They wouldn't live here. They would hunt for a home on their own.
Even though that was what they decided on, there was still cruel reality. The next day, they learned their movements were restricted to their lodgings, the town district and fishing center, and a handful of other public venues. The taste of freedom they felt that first day was simply that granted to ordinary citizens, so gates mercilessly snapped shut on them when they tried to leave the designated zones. They were completely locked out of crucial districts like the space port, communication center, power stations, factories, and so on.
“How about we take a little peek, then?”
“Wha, Die-san?!”
By the time Terra understood what she meant, Diode was already doing her own thing again—darting up the arcade’s decorative awning—but when she returned a few hours later, she shared her findings with disappointment.
“I couldn’t find any breaches in the wall or ductwork that I could crawl into. Looks like they already had a sense of what I’d try to do.”
“So that’s what you were up to...?”
It was likely that they would only be able to access those areas once Pri and the others made progress in their work. Luckily for the two of them, they had one other thing they could do. Once they returned to their lodgings and got changed, Terra pulled out the golden cube she left in the pocket of the duct dress.
“You know, we really should have taken a look at this earlier!”
“What’s that...? Ah, right, the thing you got from my weird, pigheaded father.”
“They’re the documents about the Galactive Interactive your father gave us! We should have waited to look through them before we started arguing, now that I think about it.”
“We’re always getting ahead of ourselves, I guess...”
They set the Stone State Storage on a table that had been dragged to the middle of the room for better visibility. Diode sat down on a bed pushed into a corner and asked Terra if she minded whether she laid down before sprawling out.
“This might be junk, since this is my father we’re talking about.”
“Aw, don’t say that. It might be a treasure map, you know?”
“He’s not the type to share articles about planets with pretty landscapes or stations with delicious cuisines. He’s the kind of guy who will start rambling about elemental concentrations while he has a meal with you.”
“...Well, if it's the planet's elemental concentrations, it could come in handy when we go fishing, I guess.”
It would’ve been an awkward situation to navigate if that’s what he really did, though.
That man, Ozuno-san, what did he say again...? Terra thought back to their meeting. He said it was a mix of stuff... but I think it was about the Circs’ history and our relationship with the GI? So, I wonder if it’s an interstellar map or trade records or something like that.
The projector booted up and an index appeared. Terra, both hopeful and somewhat anxious, started reading the index out loud. “What? ...Wǎngláiquān Fángjūn Strategic Operation Manual, 8526 AD?”
The documents weren’t interstellar maps or trade records, nor were they VR tours of famous historical landmarks or presentations on hometown delicacies. The document that appeared displayed an ancient-looking crest—a nebula, a grain stalk, and a shield—belonging to the Galactive Interactive Interrupt, and it only took one glance to see that it was an official document with rigid adherence to formal language. For just a short moment, she wondered if there was some kind of mistake. Even just skimming the first page, she understood the document contained something unthinkable.
“Die-san, this is...”
“Yeah.” Diode sat up from the bed and took a careful look at the document. “It’s from Astro Duodenum 8526, the same year the Circs arrived here.”
“Yeah, but... what? This doesn’t have anything to do with us, right?” Terra felt a faint chill, and insisted, “We migrated to this planet 300 years ago. Families and neighbors, 500,000 people in 24 clans, joined together to come here with hopes and dreams of living large in a new land—right?! That’s common knowledge to every one of us, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is.” Diode replied with a small nod. Then she shook her head, “Or rather, I should say that was made into common knowledge.”
“...Was it?”
“Well, duh? If we assume this part is true.” Diode took Terra’s hand and used her long finger to trace the document’s title. “Here, read this.”
“Decompressor Deportation Program.”
“It’s like we’re a people who were banned from the rest of the galaxy, don’t you think?” Diode opened her eyes for dramatic effect and laughed gently, like she found it to be pretty amusing.
The document’s contents were exactly what the title described. A peculiar ability, decompression, has been discovered within the Galactive Interactive. Those persons found to possess this ability, decompressors, are to be collected and expelled from the Interactive. They shall be relocated to a distant planet in spacecraft containing the minimum necessary survival equipment, accompanied by a surveillance unit. Once stationed in a reasonably survivable orbit on-site, the surveillance unit is to withdraw. A long list of vessels and personnel followed the brief explanation.
Terra murmured through the document, astonished. “Why did your father have this...?”
“You want to know how he obtained the information? Or his reason for giving it to us?”
“Woah, you really are related.”
“We’re not alike at all, I was just joking—we aren’t alike, right...?”
I think the tone you take is.
“Well, no. You really aren’t that alike. As for how he obtained it... there aren’t that many different ways, are there? It must have been because he’s a Gendō. He might have had access to old records, maybe even top secret ones that only the Great Chief could see. So, the reason he gave it to us...” Terra hadn’t quite gotten that far yet. “...It was to get the information away from Fuyō, wasn’t it?”
“And the reason he didn’t turn it over to Pri-san was...” Diode also looked at the ceiling for a bit, then made a guess of her own. “Because he didn’t want the Trades using it, maybe?”
“No, it’s gotta be because this would be a huge shock to the Trades. Imagine it for a moment. Our ancestors left the GI through their own free will, proud and confident... at least, that’s how it was supposed to have been. So wouldn’t the truth that we were actually exiled here bring a huge amount of shame on us?”
“But assuming we are exiles, it explains why we were sent to a planet that is this much trouble.”
“Guh...”
“Besides, the title itself already says that people were being expelled if they could decomp, right? Wouldn’t you say it’s consistent, then? I mean, consistent with why we’re the only ones who can export AMC Clay and how we’re able to fish for besshu at FBB.”
“Urgh...!”
“And if it’s true that we were exiled, that wouldn’t just explain why the Dàxúnniǎo only comes every other year, it also explains why everyone who leaves starts behaving so unnaturally distant. It has to be hard to return or stay in contact after you find out that everyone back home is a prisoner. It all comes together perfectly!”
“Urrrgh... w-when you put it like that...”
Their mysterious past was elegantly and lamentably revealed. Terra groaned, both surprised and disappointed, but had a sudden realization.
“But Die-san, that’s odd.”
“What’s odd?”
“Decomping isn’t a human ability. It’s the besshu that decomp. The phenomenon we call decompression is the besshu borrowing a human’s imagination to change form, and that’s so the Iron Ball can escape from the depths of our planet.”
“...Uhh, that’s what Eda-san told you, right? Anyway, tell me more.”
“Of course! So basically, the besshu were created by Eda-san after we migrated here. My point being, they didn’t exist before that. And yet, the document here says that the Fángjūn was rounding up decompers before the emigration. That’s a contradiction, isn’t it?”
“Yeah.”
“So why is this document lying?”
“Both might be true, don’t you think? As in, Eda-san was a member of the Fángjūn and had the ability to decomp.”
Caught by surprise, Terra replied, “That... would be a little...”
“Am I wrong? We’ve talked about this before. How should I put it... it took Eda and Magiri leading a rebellion and becoming Great Chiefs to fix our society because the people in charge of the fleet early on were totally useless.” Diode gave Terra a small shrug. “If we assume one of them was a member of the surveillance unit mentioned in the document, it makes perfect sense, right? It even explains why the rebellion was so successful.”
“I see...”
The Galactive Interactive could be described as a galactic republic, and the Wǎngláiquān Fángjūn, or the Galactive Interactive Interrupt as it was known in various languages, was the space force that operated for the sake of maintaining its safety. The GI’s military barely interacted with their livelihoods, but even Terra and Diode knew at least what it was called.
Terra wondered if Professor Lucid was really a member of the Wǎngláiquān Fángjūn. She searched through the document’s list of targeted individuals, and while Magiri turned up, Eda didn’t. Terra tried to imagine her in a dark-toned military uniform and thought the look suited her.
She looked down at the girl by her side, impressed. “That’s gotta be it. You’re amazing, Die-san!”
“Well, we have nothing but indirect evidence, though,” Diode replied bluntly, crossing her arms. “Still, the fact that decomping was purged from the Interactive because the Circs were run out like pests is humiliating. The reason my father trusted us with these records was that he assumed we were the type of people who wouldn’t care about it—we don’t, right?”
“It... doesn’t matter, yeah. We’re us, and whether our ancestors were good or bad has no bearing on us.”
“But this information would shock everyone who believes our ancestors were marvelously charming, virtuous, noble, and heroic. If this was made public, the anger would be targeted at the inflexible, ancestor-loving Gendō clan.”
“So maybe this could be used to keep the plans for Helm in check where they currently are. I wonder if this has data on how it’s used...” Terra tried to think about it but couldn’t help a bitter smile. “Even if it did, it wasn’t the kind of information we were looking for.”
“Not surprising that it’s off the mark, considering it came from my weirdo father. We needed information, something about the state of affairs and currency on nearby planetary harbors at the very least...”
“Ah, but! Since your father was secretly holding onto a document this valuable, we might find the information we were looking for if we look through it properly!”
“Well, yes, it is possible. But that said...” Diode replied indifferently. She shut off the projector and looked up at Terra. “How about we clarify something? Since we’ve been carelessly dragging it out.”
“What do you mean?”
“Eda.” She stared at Terra. “This so-called Eda-san woman... you’ve actually been in contact with her a few times, haven’t you?”
“What?” Startled, Terra backed away. “W-what makes you think that?”
“Because you trust her way too much. You said that you spoke with her at the bottom of the cloud sea, did you not? If that was the only time, I wasn’t going to say anything because I wanted to give you moral support, I really did. But you outwitted everyone back at Idaho, got your hands on a real escape ship, and made it all the way to Fuyō by following her advice, didn’t you? That’s not something you can plan with a single meeting, is it.” Diode firmly set her dark blue eyes on Terra and kept pressing without hesitation. “You talked to her a few times. Set me up with her too, I want to talk.”
“...Are you jealous?”
“Are you seriously asking me that?” Diode’s stare went cold. “When we set out, we’ll be following the advice of that woman. Our lives might be at stake. Besides, she’s not human, right? It’s only natural that I’d want to know just what she is, wouldn’t you think?”
“I... guess so, yeah.”
“Then please, let me talk to her.” Diode forcefully poked at Terra’s minicell.
Terra responded with a wry smile. “Erm, you’re not wrong about that. Eda-san became the escape ship’s AI, so I could talk to her normally on the way from Idaho to Fuyō—but, since we had to leave the ship behind, I can’t talk to her right now.”
“She became the escape ship’s AI?” Diode frowned. “Why would something from the bottom of the cloud sea do that?”
“It’s a long story. Um, let me think...” Terra could finally talk, starting from the old robot horse in the archives and continuing through her exchanges with Eda after the horse guided her to the escape ship. “I don’t know how she managed to make it all the way to Idaho from the bottom of the cloud sea, but I’m certain she’s inside the Insomnia’s machinery. There wasn’t any time lag like you’d get with a transmission.”
“Hmm... Then it seems to me that someone, alive, was tailing you and tricked you with a skillfully crafted transmission from another ship somewhere.”
“You think?”
“Yes. Anything is more realistic than having a near-death experience where you talked to someone at the bottom of the cloud sea.”
“But it really happened! You’ll understand if you talk to her too!”
“So I guess my only option is to find out for myself, huh. It would be great if I could talk to her somehow.”
Terra made an effort to call Eda, but naturally, there was no response. Her small minicell wasn’t capable of direct communication with distant base ships, so it needed to go through a relay satellite. However, that routing was only possible through a base ship’s communication center, which the two couldn’t use at the moment.
“Then we can’t expect any time for a deeper investigation of the Insomnia once we get there. I wonder if a smash-and-grab—barging into Fuyō and immediately running off with the boat—is even doable.”
“You’re being really cautious.”
“I don’t want to fly into outer space inside a scrap heap that’s only marginally better than a shipping container, assuming it is an escape ship,” Diode said coolly. Then, she rolled onto the bed and looked back at Terra for a moment. “Do you understand me? This isn’t jealousy.”
Terra had the feeling that Diode was doing her best to find fault with everything this evening, but that one look back at her made her feel like she could forgive anything. She pushed the table through the air and put it back into the wall, then followed Diode’s lead by wrapping around her.
“These are turtles from the Anno Domini era.”
“Tuddles.”
“Yep! Pond turtles, sea turtles, tortoises, and gamera. That's their fighting form—EEP!”
“Now I'm your shell.”
“Heheh, I guess you are. And this here's a termite–”
“That? Ew!!”
“Wai—don't slap me!—Okay, okay, I get it, that's an animal you don’t want to see right now.”
“Can’t we save the reference books for later?”
“But you were the one who suggested we take a break, weren’t you?”
“I was, but that's not the kind of break I was talking about.”
“...Hm, you sure know a lot about these ‘kinds of breaks.’ Think fast!”
“Woah?!”
Terra, who was laying on her stomach, forcefully lifted her right shoulder from the bed. It caused Diode, glued to her back, to roll off the side. Diode voiced her displeasure.
“Could you not get so weirdly sulky? Isn’t that just common knowledge...? Or are you still worried about things of the past?”
“Who knows?”
“‘Who knows’...? If that’s all you’re going to say, then I’m the one who should be worried.”
“About what?”
“Everything. You’ve been to marriage interviews, and you also don’t seem interested in anyone but me.”
Terra had her back to Diode but rolled over and exchanged glances. “Is it bad that I’m not interested in anyone else?”
“Aren’t you asking too much from me, then? I insulted that bitch and ran away from her twice. What more do you want from me?”
They glared at one another—and then couldn’t help but burst into laughter.
“Yeah, you’re right. I was making a fuss over something small.”
“You were. It’s awesome that you’re not interested in anyone but me.”
“Isn’t this where you’re supposed to apologize for what you said instead...?”
A pair of lips that had kept nitpicking the smallest things interrupted another pair doing the same. Diode clung to Terra’s neck like a turtle shell again, but this time facing Terra. Terra caught her and embraced the warm, thin, narrow-shouldered figure.
She understood where Diode’s worries came from. Terra did say that she didn’t want to get married to a man, but even then, Diode worried she might have a change of heart if the right guy came along. It didn’t strike Terra as anything to worry about anymore, though. Nothing compared to how much she loved the small curves she could fit in one hand, the scents she took in, and the kisses. Until not so long ago, her only desires were to simply be close to Diode and pet her, and she was surprised how smoothly they had deepened to the point of wanting to melt into the girl.
On the other hand, though, that was why she didn’t feel totally confident that just telling Diode everything would be okay could soothe her worries. She hadn’t felt attraction to any other woman so far, but that might be because another woman hadn’t tried wooing her. If it ever happens, how should I react? I mean, am I supposed to respond by telling them I already have a partner? Or that I’m not interested?
“Die-san... this might be a weird thing to ask, but...”
“What is it?”
“If someone else... like us... tries to ask me out, how do I turn her down?”
“Wouldn’t just saying ‘no, sorry’ be enough?”
“Well, yeah, but that wouldn’t let her know that we’re at least like-minded, right?”
Terra was aware that she wouldn’t see others in a relationship like hers walking around in the streets, even if it completely slipped her mind when the two of them were alone.
“Huh? Well, sure, but... you really don’t need to hold back on that account. Just say ‘I already have a partner’ or something.”
“How would you say it?”
“‘Sorry, you’re not my type.’ That way it gets both meanings across.”
“Woah, scary.” It was a sentiment she had often felt but was never able to voice.
The way Diode touched her was joyful; careful and strong, the same feeling Terra got from her handling of the pillar boat. Being treated the same way as the boat wasn't the least bit unpleasant; if anything, getting to experience what she liked seeing Diode do the most through her own body made her happy.
“Um, Terra-san... Nevermind, maybe it’s better if I don’t ask.”
“What was it?”
“There doesn’t seem to be anything that’s been off-limits for you anymore, but are you really not forcing yourself to do certain things?”
“No, not at all.” Diode touched her everywhere, as she pleased, but it was the same way she operated the attitude control. “It’s fun, and it’s a fresh feeling.”
“...You’re pretty adaptable, huh?”
“It’s also really embarrassing, of course... I had no idea I was able to show you those places.”
“...Oh, is it okay if we try something different, then?”
Strangely enough, she wasn’t scared to be touched by Diode when she had that sparkle in her eye. Being pecked, looked over, squeezed, and lifted by the girl sent all sorts of signals—calming, churning, numbing, throbbing—running through her body. Never once in her twenty-four years had she felt the majority of those sensations. So my body was able to do this? It’s like it’s not even my own body. Over and over, she was happy to be surprised by them.
Terra wondered whether it was because it was her first time, but when she interrogated that thought, she was surprised to discover that wasn’t the reason.
“Die-san, does it feel good for you?”
“Yeah... yeah. It feels good to touch you. When you touch me, when you’re on top of me, it feels so good that it’s like I’m not me any... nnh!”
“I’m glad.”
We both had our complaints while we were looking through the reference books... but we do seem to be pretty compatible.
Good things happened on the fifth day of their stay, and again on the sixth. The seventh day took a turn for the worse.
On day five, they received news that the scientists had figured out the nishikigoi’s mysterious organ. It was comparable to the rete mirabile found in some animals from Earth, but even stranger in its workings. On day six, they were informed the Insomnia was safe and sound by a spy still working undercover in Fuyō.
On day seven, the entire fleet experienced a power outage. Fifteen of the sixteen base ships simultaneously experienced a sudden blackout that lasted six minutes. Afterwards, they received a message originating from the lone unaffected vessel, Fuyō. It was from Clan Chief Nurude, inviting the Circs to make their return to the Galactive Interactive after 304 years.