The Farming Saint in the Starry Wasteland (Elizabeth Schofield) novel Chapter 408

Chapter 408 Can We Apply?

Chapter 408 Can We Apply?

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There was something about those people. Peter couldn’t really explain what it was, but every time he saw them, he couldn’t help looking twice.

It felt like something that could protect others.

Unlike him.

From the moment he was born, he had been the one being protected by the old drifters in the junk mountain so he wouldn’t get torn apart by stray dogs, by the townsfolk in Hope Town as he grew up, by Elizabeth, who took him in and gave him a way to live.

He had never protected anyone before.

“Peter?” Tasha’s voice pulled him back from his daze. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Do you want to apply?”

She stared at his face, then suddenly laughed. “Your whole face is red.”

Peter instinctively touched his cheek. It really was burning.

“I…” He opened his mouth. “I’m not qualified…”

“Not qualified?” Tasha said bluntly. “You’re 18, and you’re in great shape. Last time when we hauled fertilizer, you carried more than anyone else. You can drive transport vehicles, and your reflexes are fast. You even handle tight turns like it’s nothing. Didn’t you even learn some combat moves from Desmond? You also knocked Aaron down twice sparring last time!”

“T–that was because Aaron was letting me win…”

“No, he didn’t! Aaron is super competitive. After losing, he secretly trained for days.” Tasha smiled. “Peter, you can do it. You’re way stronger than you think. It’s just a shame I’m not 18 yet. Once I am, I’m applying as well!”

Peter didn’t answer.

He just lowered his head, staring at the pepper seedling in his hand that had already gone slightly wilted from his grip. He sighed quietly and planted it into the soil, covering it carefully and watering it.

Across the seedling racks, older workers were chatting while continuing their work.

“I heard there’s pilot training? That’s great. My grandson is 20. He’s always messing with mechanical stuff. I’ll tell him to try.”

“Wyatt does have what it takes. He has strong hands–on skills. The escort officer role has wider requirements too. Retired soldiers preferred, but even people without experience can apply.”

“We’ve got plenty of retired soldiers here anyway. Competition is gonna be fierce.”

“So what? It’s free to apply. That’s how our farm works. If there’s a chance, we go for it. Even if we don’t make it, we don’t lose anything.”

Peter listened, absentmindedly planting seedlings, but his heart kept beating faster.

At the cafeteria, news spread even quicker.

It was afternoon snack time. A few off–shift workers sat scattered around, drinking bowls of soup.

1/3

2:26 pm P P P P

Chapter 408 Can We Apply?

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Ella was cleaning the kitchen counter when she heard people at the entrance talking about the recruitment. She immediately dropped her rag and walked over.

“Is it true? Our farm is really going to train its own spaceship pilots?”

“It’s real! It’s on the device. They want pilots, escorts, and technicians!”

Ella’s eyes lit up. “Oh my goodness! My son has been tinkering with junk parts every day, saying he wants to build spaceships someday. Isn’t this technician position perfect for him?”

“Technicians need mechanical and systems knowledge. Does Quincy know that stuff?”

“He does!” Ella said proudly. “Last time, one of our farm’s transport vehicles broke down. The repair crew couldn’t find the issue for half a day. He took one look and said it was a loose sensor line. Just tightened it, and it was fixed. He just never had the right opportunity. Now he finally does!”

Someone teased, “Ella, if your son ends up fixing spaceships in the future, you’ll be the mother of a spaceship technician.”

Ella beamed. “That sounds great! I’ll treat you all to a meal!”

Laughter drifted through the cafeteria. Near a corner table, a few of the older workers sat quietly, sipping their soup.

Zion set down his bowl and let out a long sigh. “It’s nice to be young.”

Lucian, who sat beside him, glanced over. “What, Zion? Thinking of signing up yourself?”

“Sign up for what?” Zion shook his head. “At my age? They want people between 18 and 45. I’m more than ten years past that.” His gaze drifted somewhere far away. “It just reminded me of when I was young. Back then, I’d just started working in the mines, saved up for years, and wanted to apply to a flight academy. When I finally had enough money, they told me I was too old. I had to be under 18. I was just two years older.”

He fell silent for a moment, then gave a faint smile. “So I went back to the mines for the rest of my life.”

Lucian patted his shoulder. “We didn’t have chances like this back then, Just staying alive was already good enough. These young people got lucky. They’ve been born at the right time.”

“Yeah.” Zion looked out through the cafeteria windows at the young workers passing by, his expression soft. “They really did.”

At the edge of the farm, on the other side of the labor camp’s barbed wire fence, others had also seen the announcement.

Not on a device–they didn’t have access to that.

They only heard fragments during their limited outdoor breaks, catching bits of conversations from the farm workers outside and piecing them together slowly.

“I heard that they’re recruiting spaceship pilots.”

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