Evolve (21)
'... The spaceport?'
I questioned the message Licorice had sent me. It wasn't that I didn't know about the spaceport—but I couldn't understand why she had chosen that place.
While I furrowed my brow and got lost in thought for a moment, Roxy stood up from his seat. He said that his story ended there, adding that he was just feeling a bit unsettled—nothing more, nothing less.
"Friend, go get a bit of shut-eye."
"What about you?"
"They said the situation's over, so I have to get back to work. Ah, I won't touch the shuttle, so don't worry about that."
Roxy's gaze turned to the rail cannon lying next to the shuttle. The cannon was barely a skeleton, its complex circuitry and wires exposed. He must've been exhausted from piloting outside all this time, but here he was, eager to make some progress, however small.
Roxy waved as he walked away. I knew this was his way of being considerate. He didn't want to linger on heavy topics, and since he saw I got a message from Licorice, he gave me space.
'He doesn't ever ask for help.'
We had often asked Roxy for help, but he had never asked us. I could chalk it up to my own lack of technical knowledge, but he never asked Nadia or Kyle, either.
I watched Roxy ambling along. He always acted sly,-nimbly navigating the boundaries between people with his uniquely light demeanor.
But he never truly got deeply involved with others. More accurately, he didn't want to. Like a passing breeze—try to grab him and he would slip away or simply pass by.
Today was the first time. The first time he hinted at his real feelings, even a little.
I had learned about both Kyle's and Roxy's origins for the first time, but there was no joy in this new knowledge. I could only sigh. I knew there was more left unsaid than was revealed.
I had no intention of probing further. I didn't push Nadia to reveal such secrets even between us, so I certainly wouldn't do that to Roxy.
'What really bothers me is...'
The Immortality Experiment incident on Mars, which happened seventy-five years ago. There was still no definitive proof, but I personally believed that the main culprits were the pureblood supremacist group.
After all, the zombie-like monsters—creatures that wouldn't die even with their hearts blown out—shared many similarities with the current ghouls.
Even though it was revealed that a run-amok nanomachine technology was the cause, there were still many suspicious aspects. Maybe it was to keep society from descending into chaos, or maybe there was just information that had to be concealed—besides the 'runaway nanomachine' keyword, nothing else was ever disclosed.
Because so many people felt there was a cover-up, conspiracy theories ran rampant, though they didn't last. Either they weren't allowed to persist, or perhaps the tendency for people's curiosity to grow when suppressed was curbed by the Earth government's tight information control; people would just get scared and settle down.
It was similar to when Myosotis fell. Back then, too, all sorts of control stifled rowdy rumors, muffling them step by step.
'War refugees...'
Seventy-five years was certainly not a short period. No matter how savage and catastrophic the Immortality Experiment had been, that was enough time for its aftereffects to be erased.
Mars was the first successfully terraformed planet and held symbolic importance, so it received generous support—which made it even more so. It had to be that way—or so I thought. But it wasn't.
'What was there to gain?'
There had been an official announcement that all data relating to nanomachines was recovered or destroyed by the Earth government. Still, either people didn't believe it, or the statement was a lie. I didn't know why mercenaries were still rummaging around.
Decades had passed—or actually, even before Roxy left Mars, it had already been ongoing, so I couldn't say for sure that these things wouldn't happen even now.
Given that pureblood supremacists were almost guaranteed to take over Mars, perhaps things had quieted down or they'd made a temporary alliance with the Earth government. Or maybe it went the other way, with Mars succumbing to the supremacist faction. Considering betrayal was rampant, it wasn't an impossibility.
'It's not something I should be thinking about right now.'
I glanced over at Roxy, who had resumed work without asking anyone for help. Roxy risked his life while piloting the shuttle. Sometimes he flew so dangerously it was like he wanted to die. He enjoyed speed and danger far beyond a normal thrill.
As if wanting to break free of something—as if yearning for freedom. If he weren't so skilled a pilot, Roxy wouldn't even be here now.
I couldn't guess his real feelings. I hesitated to ask Kyle, too. Everyone had their circumstances; what was trivial to one person could steer another's entire life.
I looked to the side. Even after the announcement that the situation was over, Nadia and Kyle were still talking about how to improve the power loader. It seemed they were trying not to sleep any more.
I wasn't planning on sleeping either. The timing felt off for another nap, and more than sleep, I wanted to know how the decision to head for the spaceport was reached.
Licorice would be on the bridge. I thought about going to her, but decided to stay here. We could talk by real-time video call anyway.
— Licorice, I want to ask what you mean by going to the spaceport. Do you have a minute?
— Yes. Come to the bridge.
— I'd rather stay in the storage bay. Can we talk by video? Just in case.
— Hmm. All right, then.
After Licorice's text settled at the bottom of the hologram screen, a new display opened. Then, Licorice appeared. Soon, her voice reached my ears.
— What do you want to ask?
"Pretty much everything."
— Then ask your biggest question first. We don't have time to go from beginning to end.
Licorice's eyes darted around slightly. I could see the gem-like eyes flicker with holographic light, indicating that she was working on something mid-conversation. Probably planning the operation.
"Why the spaceport? No—was there even anything left of it?"
That was my biggest question. I knew there was a spaceport. Shuttles or ships for space navigation that descended through the atmosphere almost always had to land at a spaceport, unless under special circumstances.
Even if you could reach orbit directly from the residential area or mining base Heaven, that didn't change anything. Either way, you had to use the Garden Catapult or pass through the spaceport before ascending to orbit.
This was to stop stowaways and make traffic management easier. Those who attempted to stow away would be caught by the military base radars all over Titan and punished.
Unlike other places, the ice moon Titan had abundant blue crystal deposits, so security was extremely strict. In short, the spaceport was the gathering place for all means of transportation to and from Titan.
A high influx of people meant more security staff, and that inevitably meant a large garrison.
That's why I assumed the spaceport was demolished on the first day of the incident. The pureblood supremacists, who had blockaded Titan, would surely not leave such a transportation hub unscathed.
— I thought it was destroyed, too. I was sure of it.
"Then does that mean the facilities survived?"
— Not exactly. Facility-wise, it's probably too damaged for us to repair. We can't observe it right now, but I expect the damage is extreme. The tourist shuttles that landed the day before the disaster supposedly belonged to pureblood supremacists in disguise.
Even if those tourist shuttles weren't infiltrators, a terror attack would still have happened. Even without new arrivals the day before, those monsters were already here in Titan, lying in wait.
Having taken the mining base Heaven, the residential areas, and even the military bases in one stroke, they would have had no trouble seizing the spaceport. Didn't they also seize high-security robot factories and refineries through internal betrayal?
Each one on their own may be weak, but combined, they're not to be taken lightly. Their available forces dwarf ours.
"... If everything's ruined, why go? Is the reactor there?"
— It is. It'll be quicker to show you this than to explain. Hold on a sec.
When I said that even if it was there, it was likely destroyed, Licorice frowned faintly. She touched a floating hologram. A file was sent to me.
— Got it?
"Yes."
I squinted at the data on the screen, trying to understand. Countless lines crisscrossed the screen, and in the center, a line suddenly cut off—no, it bent subtly, like it was warped.
"What is this?"
— It's a map I made from traces of my attempts at establishing communication links. Don't you sense anything odd? Communication goes through everywhere else, but at a certain point, errors suddenly occur, sometimes making connection impossible.
"Don't tell me..."
— Yeah, that's where the spaceport is.
Licorice clucked her tongue, chastising herself for not noticing sooner. She lamented that it showed her lack of skill—but honestly, it would have been odd if she noticed right away.
Normally, if you can't connect, you just assume the facility is destroyed. It made sense to think it was blown up by terrorists, and with the supremacists jamming communications, people would assume the problem was on their own end. I thought the same.
I'd never even heard of mapping a place out by probing every point like this.
— I think it's because the ECM chaff dispersal system is operating. It's blanketing the spaceport, creating even heavier jamming.
As expected of military tech, it was so deviously implemented that it took ages for Licorice to track it down. She said the ECM chaff dispersal system was one of the spaceport's own defense protocols to repel outside intrusion.
— So I suspect the spaceport wasn't completely wiped out. Even if the facility's badly damaged, its power source survived. The reactor couldn't have been destroyed; otherwise this wouldn't be happening. Especially since the ECM chaff dispersal system isn't just running, it's going berserk.
"The reactor is still active, then..."
The reactor.
A special generator capable of supplying the energy needed to activate the Purification Protocol.
I didn't know if the energy sent into orbit was meant to activate something in Titan's orbit, or routed through some step to awaken something underground.
What was certain was that unless we overloaded the reactor and prevented energy emission to orbit, we couldn't move to the next stage of the protocol.
If we could manufacture a reactor ourselves, this wouldn't be an issue. But that was impossible. Even digging through military base databases yielded no schematics; besides, the reactors on Titan and other planets and moons were only ever supplied from Earth—only from Earth.
All technical origins led back to our cradle, earth. I'd never heard of successful production or licensing outside of Earth. That's why Kyle and Licorice were racking their brains.
"If there are still a lot of pureblood supremacists at the spaceport, that's a problem."
— For now, there shouldn't be any. The chaff isn't just standard, it's also highly toxic, so they wouldn't survive inside for long. Even with respirators, their filters would clog up in a few minutes.
"... Isn't that the same for us? Even if there are no supremacists, there'll be tons of mutants."
That could be solved by wearing full-seal helmets and pumping in oxygen from tanks.
— Probably. I'm still looking for other routes, but of all the reactors I found, the one at the spaceport is the most accessible. The others are in military bases, but those will be crawling with both mutants and the enemy. For sure. Can we handle that?
We can't. Even if Licorice hacked the base defenses, it wouldn't be enough to handle those numbers.
True, the situation at the spaceport wasn't all that different, but at least there's a strong chance there are fewer supremacists there. Since the chaff is toxic, there might even be fewer mutants, too.
Besides, with Nadia and Kyle working together, the power loader had been properly upgraded, so infiltration would be easier than when we hit military base Keter.
Even if a dreadnought like the one we saw on the Reformist ship, or a deathworm like the one at military base Keter appeared, we'd have enough muscle to fight back now.
Licorice stopped her graceful dance across the hologram keyboard, turned to me, and asked, with uncharacteristic caution:
— You really don't like it?
"It's not that."
If Licorice herself had decided this, then it had to be the best course given the circumstances. What weigh on my mind were two things: Cystus and Lobelia.
"I understand why we have to go to the spaceport. I was only curious about the reasoning in detail. What bothers me are Cystus and Lobelia—they've been too quiet."
— ... Yeah. Who knows what trick they're plotting.
If they were silent, they were biding their time—which meant they had some hidden agenda. Even Cystus alone, as an enemy pureblood supremacists, would be enough of a headache, but then there was Lobelia, presumed to be a third party. I couldn't help but worry.
One likely needed to be attacked with a rail cannon rather than a linear rifle, and the other was a woman whose range of movement was as unpredictable as a warp-gate composed of biological tissue.
On top of that, she traveled with special entities called Blackout and Whiteout. None of them could be taken lightly.
"We've managed to prepare a few things thanks to this lull, but we're still not fully ready. After all, they have the advantage in force, so however much we prepare, they're definitely planning something bigger—even more than us."
If not for Licorice, we'd have been at a huge disadvantage information-wise. Unable to find anything out, we'd have been tossed about, caught in the enemy's hands, and never escape Titan—our lives just ended, right there.
— That's what the Purification Protocol is for. It's our only remaining path. And we're not going to the spaceport directly. We'll scan and recon the area first, enter only after assessing ground conditions. If it's an obvious trap, we'll pull out immediately. Trust me and wait on this, all right?
"That's always how it is."
— ....
Licorice stared at me. As she opened her mouth to say something, I suddenly remembered—
"Oh, right. Sorry about what happened yesterday morning. That was a mistake."
— Morning? What— ... Oh.
Licorice realized belatedly, her mouth dropping slightly. As her face flushed bright red, the hologram abruptly cut off. She was the one who ended the call.
Soon after, I heard a small, muttering sound:
— ... Don't do that again. If you do, I really won't let it slide.
"I understand. I'll be super careful from now on."
I quickly nodded. Part of me wondered if I should have just pretended not to notice, but having cleared things up, I felt a weight off my chest.
— We're taking off in two hours. It'll take time to reach the spaceport, and we have to avoid enemy scans. Rest up until we arrive. You know you're the most important—key to my entire plan, right?
"I know. I'm just not sleepy, so I thought I'd help Nadia a bit."
— Rest.
"... Okay."
Her icy tone left no room to refuse.
Some time passed, and the Albatross finally lifted its massive hull out from the ice canyon where it had been hiding for days. It was the first liftoff in what felt like forever.