“Ah, so her life isn’t in danger?”
Pri, calling in from Table of Johor on the VUI screen, was visibly relieved. Terra returned the smile.
“Yeah. I was worried earlier, but she’s already standing up and talking normally.”
“That’s a relief. I mean it, I really do. By the way, we’re discussing how to handle your situation here, so just relax and focus on her recovery.”
“You mean like, cancelling our debt? Or covering her medical expenses?”
“Ah, no, I meant an extension of your no-interest period and your housewarming once you return to Johor, that kind of thing!”
Pri cheerfully offered Terra services that wouldn’t break the bank. I’m sure she thinks she’s being totally helpful, but she’s a Trades through and through, Terra thought.
Once they finished chatting, Terra got out of the empty control pit and disembarked from the pillar boat. Inboard and outboard workers were hard at work restoring one of the heavily damaged sections of the pier. She made her way through, attracting so much attention that she hardly could have attracted any more by singing out loud. The official monitoring the exits at entry/departure control didn’t just stare at her, but tried peeking past her shoulder.
“You’re alone? Where’s your husband?”
“I’m by myself. Uh, I mentioned that when I was let in, didn’t I?”
“This is a harbor, so it’s not unusual for a party’s size to change between entering and exiting. So, what brings you here again?”
“I also said that when I... Never mind. I had an interclan communication. I couldn’t connect when I tried using my minicell in town.”
“Well, yes. Why did you think it would...?” The officer, a woman, looked up at her in confusion.
Terra was about to respond but held her tongue. The woman’s confusion made perfect sense to her.
Ships belonging to other clans came and went, disembarking rescue teams, logistics workers, administrators, and the like onto the pier, which had barely begun reconstruction. More than 500 staffers had entered Fuyō since the Tamatebako Incident ten days earlier. The beginning of the influx from outside clans seemed almost instantaneous after a long period of relative isolation.
As Terra looked out at the scene through the window of a zero-gravity corridor, she had a sudden thought—Will this really be what sets the Gendō on the path to becoming more open? Okay, no, it doesn’t work like that. Things don’t go that smoothly. Besides, in the first place, others being allowed in won’t necessarily make the people here any happier. People usually prefer the places they live to get nicer while still having a place to themselves. I’m sure this sight will be a one-off deal... She kept thinking about it as she left the pedicel port behind.
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The Tamatebako Incident, as it came to be known, had shaken every Circ, not just the Gendō clan. It was ended by a group of fishers associated with the Bow Awow. The 15 fishers and their wives, led by the ranking fishers of the D&D and Keelung clans, had first curried favor with the Gendō by making a big catch via climb fishing for koi under their supervision, then skillfully infiltrated the base ship’s core. After a tenacious fight, they subdued Clan Chief Nurude and the faction carrying out his lunatic scheme.
During the incident, a young man—a zuijin who previously followed absurd orders—turned against the Clan Chief for the greater good of the clan. Powerful outsiders had also picked up on the outcome of the conflict and quickly intervened to rescue Fuyō.
However, it was a formerly renowned man who stood out the most in the incident. He had given up his privileged position, and in his unwavering opposition to Nurude, devised an unconventional and effective plan to overthrow the Clan Chief who had barricaded himself away with hostages. He struck at the climax of the incident by manipulating Fuyō’s center of rotation, guiding the fishers to victory.
The downside of manipulating the center of rotation was that several buildings in town had collapsed and injured people. However, he rallied Gendō across social lines, and with the collaboration of the fishers, managed to contain the short-lived chaos in Fuyō. The influential and pragmatically-minded Ungaku family, which later supplanted Nurude’s Keiwaku family, set about bringing the situation under control. That man—Ozuno Ishidōrō Gendō—handed command over to the Ungaku without hesitation and declared he was returning to his research.
While it didn’t gather him any support as a candidate for the next Clan Chief, many were of the opinion that his actions were the decisive factor in the incident’s outcome.
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“...Or at least, this explainer published by the QOT went something like that. What are you playing at?” Diode, sitting in pajamafoam in her hospital bed, pointed at the minicell projection at the center of the room and demanded an explanation from Ozuno, who sat in a chair beside her. He shrugged with his hands.
“That’s a strange question. I have no say in what other clans decide to write and publish. Ask the writer or their AI.”
“I’m asking my wily, bickering father why he decided now was the time to stand out, play an active role, and get the hero treatment!”
“How would I know? I’m not some hero. I never once planned on becoming one. That article doesn’t reflect reality, for starters.”
“...Doesn’t reflect reality?”
“That’s right.” Ozuno gave her a slight smile and continued, “Once I was detained, I was asleep inside the box. I had nothing to do with manipulating the center of rotation. And even after I got tossed out, I only confirmed the obvious in a brief discussion with the fishers.”
“But I believe they used your confirmation to avoid having the situation drag out endlessly,” Terra cut in. “Because I don’t think either side would have ended this on their own if other Gendō families had barged in or the fishers recovered their pillar boats and started fighting. They also would have ignored the casualties in town.”
“You’re overestimating me. I’m sure someone else would have stepped in if things ended up that way.” Ozuno shook his head.
Before she grumpily fell quiet, Diode hummed and said, “...So that’s how it is, huh?”
It made Terra anxious, so she forced a smile to bear with it.
They were in a hospital located in the Typhoon Palace. Diode had been carried into the hospital after taking a blow to the head during the Tamatebako Incident. While she wanted to be discharged since she’d regained consciousness relatively quickly, neither the human nor machine doctors allowed it. The doctors remained unconvinced by her exam results, and even though they’d performed three full body scans in ten days, they had come to the conclusion this morning that there was an equipment malfunction.
That annoyed Diode to no end, but Terra thought her ongoing hospitalization wasn’t all bad—in the ten days of chaos that followed, Diode needed to remain hidden anyway. Terra was grateful to be in here with Ozuno’s assistance.
Ozuno had his hands full managing the mess for three full days while his daughter was hospitalized, and not being able to look after her seemed to be eating away at him. So by the time he visited on day four, he was extremely worried. Diode still couldn’t move, and his overthinking was reaching the point of him becoming a nuisance. But on the fifth day, when he realized that Terra was handling caretaking duties, he stepped back and simply observed. Today marked day ten of Diode’s hospitalization.
“Excuse me for a moment,” Ozuno said, before leaning in front of a visibly annoyed Diode. He squinted when he noticed there were no bloodstains on the wound pads covering the left side of her forehead. “Looks like all’s good now.”
“I guess so, yeah.”
“I was horrified when I first saw that injury.”
“I was just bleeding. Forehead wounds tend to be especially bloody. Not that I remember anything.”
That moment of brief calm between a daughter nodding to her smiling father quickly passed.
“I’m relieved, though. If you’d ended up with a major injury because I called you back, I couldn’t bear to show my face in public anymore.”
“I didn’t come because you called me, though.”
“But you did see that Stone State Storage I gave you, no?” Ozuno asked calmly, then looked at the two with fading confidence. “Wait. You didn’t?”
“No, I saw it...” Diode grudgingly admitted. “Then, was our coming back your goal when you gave it to us?”
“It wasn’t necessarily my goal. If anything, I wanted to make sure you understood what you were getting into, and if you two came back, all the better. But it would have been preferable for you to come back because of the Stone State Storage and not because you got dragged into all this nonsense, you know?”
“After seeing it, I wouldn’t have felt like coming back either way!” Diode’s voice rose again. “We wanted to know things about the Galactive Interactive, like which star systems would have good job prospects and be easy to live in, or planets with nice scenery, or fun stations with delicious delicacies! We didn’t want to read the specifics of that travesty of an exile plan our ancestors were put through while we were in a good mood!”
“Everyone has moments when they don’t want to do things like read through horrific documents. That’s normal. So, Kanna, you should at least be happy that you read it when you were in a state you could deal with it! Hahaha!”
“Stuff it...!”
Diode only threw a pillow at Ozuno’s face when he laughed, so Terra didn’t bother stepping in. The pillow gently rolled down to reveal a considerable curve to the boyish man’s neck. He grumbled in pain as he stretched his neck, which seemed to do the trick. Terra relaxed and picked up the pillow.
“To be honest, it does bother me a bit.”
“What does, Terra-san?”
“Knowing what we do now about the Galactive Interactive, I’m not sure if we can expect much from it anymore. Here, Die-san.” She handed the pillow back and looked at Ozuno. “Is it really that awful over there? We were told decompers are persecuted and that the clay is going wild...”
“Hrm. You still want to go, even now?”
“I mean–”
Terra casually locked eyes with Diode and nodded. Ozuno folded his arms and looked up at the ceiling.
“I’m aware I’m asking in vain, but... Kanna, Terra-san, would you be interested in having kids and raising them here in Fuyō?”
“Hah?” Diode’s mouth opened like she was ready to bite.
Intimidated, Ozuno immediately continued. “No, you see, the Ungaku family is a lot more broad-minded than what we had, so I believe things will become more permissive! You saw the news yourselves just now, beginning today access to other clans is unlocked. Is that an option?”
“We. Are. NOT. Doing. That!” Diode made sure he felt the full force of each word.
Terra agreed with her from the sidelines, but more calmly. “No, we won’t. I wouldn’t exactly call it permissive, either...”
“You think so? Have a look at this, then.”
Ozuno readily conceded and booted up his minicell to project a text and image structure into the space over Diode’s bed. It was yet another document of some kind.
“What’s that?”
“A classified document Nurude was keeping to himself. He received it from the Dàxúnniǎowhen it last visited, and us researchers finally got our hands on the reason he ended up like he did. It’s very interesting.”
“...Oh?”
Both were at full attention, and for the first time today were hearing something genuinely interesting.
“According to this document, it appears the Zugspitze star system really is being damaged by the clay. They’re having difficulty managing it, so they requested we try fishing there. There aren’t any indications they’re attempting to defraud, coerce, or discriminate against us.”
“...You’re giving us good news, right...?”
“That’s not all, either. They also put in writing that if the experimental fishing was successful, they would consider ending the Circs’ exile and allow us to come and go freely. Well? Very good, isn’t it?”
“It is! It’s so good that it’s making me anxious. You want us to take that offer?” Terra asked, although she agreed it was good.
“No, wait, before that–” Diode interrupted. “If this has nothing but upsides, then why did Nurude hide it? Couldn’t he have avoided a confrontation altogether if he’d gone public with the original document?”
“Maybe. But don’t you think keeping it a secret was so he could claim it as a fait accompli?”
“Yeah...”
“Nurude’s the type of man to place so much value in the Gendō having ancient, noble origins that it’s pathetic. He wanted our clan to lead at all costs, even if it made his own plans more difficult.”
“Good thing this all got squashed, then.”
The father and his daughter both nodded with looks of total disinterest.
“Anyway, the other interesting part was this.” Ozuno pulled up a different document. “We were actually sent two documents.”
“Two?”
“Yes. The Fángjūn sent the first one. The second one was sent by people calling themselves the Yǔnshāmén.”
“Who are they?”
“No clue.” Ozuno’s expression hovered between curiosity and anxiety. “Yǔn-shā-mén (<隕・沙・門) uses the same ancient characters as Gendō, but they’re read differently. It’s the standard reading on every planet, it seems. Apparently it’s a civilian organization, and it means... a group of micrometeorites...? I guess? I wonder what kind of people they really are.”
“And what did their letter say? It didn’thave any indications they were trying to defraud, coerce, or discriminate against us, either?”
“You can’t read it, Kanna? Oh right, you never were good with desk learning.”
“Knock it off and just read it already, oh unpleasant and annoying father!”
“I don’t think there is,” Terra said, intruding on their bickering. She had received the file on her own minicell and quickly skimmed through it. “The most likely of those options is a scam, but it doesn’t have the careless spelling or phrasing of one, and it’s not lacking for design or polish... if you want my opinion.”
“You can tell?” Diode asked, then nodded slightly to herself. “Right, you are good at that kind of thing...”
“It’s less that I’m able to determine its veracity, and more that I have a skill for identifying which era it belongs to.” Terra smiled back at her.
“Hmm...” Ozuno looked at the two, then asked, “So which of the two will you contact?”
“We have a third option—neither of them! Because, you see, we have a ship!” Diode replied, looking composed.
Terra nodded. “We want to collect more information, and if that means we have to go there to learn more first, then we want to go.”
“Seriously, you two...” Ozuno stood. “Do whatever you want.”
He left, and as Terra began picking up the small items around the bed, she asked, “Die-san, why do you think your father came today?”
“To be his usual annoying self, obviously.”
“That’s not why. He probably came to say a few final words.”
Diode blinked. She looked up at the ceiling, laid back, hummed, then slowly nodded.
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Many people saw Terra and Diode during the climax of the Tamatebako Incident. The two had gone into hiding at the hospital, but it wasn’t possible to remain completely off the radar—after nearly three days, the D&D and Keelung fishers came to visit. They wanted to know the pair’s intentions.
“We just wanted to put a stop to Nurude-san’s brazen behavior. We only disguised ourselves because we thought a pair of women showing up would confuse everyone, that’s all. We didn’t intend to trick anyone or humiliate them. We have no intention of claiming to be the ones who took Nurude down, either.”
Diode was still unconscious, so Terra handled the talking on her own. The fishers hesitantly accepted credit for the pair’s achievements, but more as a favor to her. Terra was glad they did, but there was still another question left to settle.
“But what about that new fishing method, koi climbing? You’re not attaching your name to it?”
“I think you should just treat it as the real Salinzone-san’s idea...”
“His idea? What really happened, then? Did he come up with it and you two just put it into action?”
This was an appropriately weighty question, so Terra wasn’t sure of how to answer for a little while. Salinzone had nothing to do with it, and she really wanted to revel in her own feat by proudly saying she and her partner had accomplished it together.
Still, the fishers found it easier to accept a feat by a man they were already acquainted with than something Terra and Diode had done. If, as a temporary solution, Terra confirmed it was his idea, it would embarrass him and his wife later on since there was no way he’d be able to reproduce it. But even then, giving him credit was likely the right choice. She’d hand over the victory crown without a fuss, then quietly watch and laugh from the shadows. She was leaving anyway, so it wasn’t her problem.
And so, with that in mind, Terra replied, “...No, that was a technique my partner Diode-san and I developed! We did get a hint from the Trades’ laboratory, but it was our idea beyond any shadow of a doubt!”
If Diode was here...
That was definitely what she would have made Terra say, so she proudly puffed out her ample chest and said it exactly how Diode would have said it.
The fishers looked astonished. Making things worse, the second-ranked Endeavour fishers were also present. To the Endeavours, Terra was a criminal ship jumper. They reminded her that she was wanted by the clan, and even told her they were prepared to take her into custody on the spot.
What spared her was the timely arrival of Stanley, a high-ranking Bow Awow inspector. Once he learned of the immense chaos the Tamatebako Incident had inflicted on Fuyō, he felt it was beyond his subordinate Pri’s ability to handle and he departed alone from Table of Johor on the second day. He had arrived at port not long before, and when he learned of the fishers’ whereabouts, he managed to involve himself in their discussion.
After learning of Terra and Diode’s circumstances, he intervened by disclosing the request he had made to them, which for better or worse, instantly settled the matter.
And so, with the fishers’ feat being reported through the QOT clan’s explainer article, the two were able to remain in a gray area for a few more days.
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After about half an hour, Terra finished packing two bags. She was dressed in local garb she could obtain with relative ease from the Typhoon Palace—meaning, a fletched kimono and hakama. She shook Diode, who was nodding off in bed.
“Die-san, wake up.”
“Mghya.”
“We’ve gotta go, now.”
“...Got it.”
After Diode got up, Terra tore off the foam pajamas that patients used and slipped her into a kimono that matched the one she wore. Her selection criteria appeared to have hit the mark.
“Have you grabbed everything? Is your injury bothering you? Need to use the bathroom?”
“All systems go. What about you, Terra-san? You’re okay leaving like this?”
“What? What do you mean?” She frowned, then thought about it. “Oh, do you mean the debt I owe to the Trades? I think we’re gonna have to skip out on paying the tab.”
“You didn’t strike me as the type.”
“I don’t want to, but we kinda have to, right?”
“Well, the debt’s whatever, but...” Diode restlessly worked to finish dressing herself and tie her obi. “Did you reply to that girl? The one who messaged you?”
“...Ahh, Kaly.”
The mail she had received a few days ago was text only, so it took her a while to remember the person behind the name Kalyana. The girl, the daughter of the Clan Chief’s wife Pohi, had sent a message to Terra asking if she was safe and what would happen to her, even though she had no clue as to Terra’s whereabouts. Hearing the news around Terra and Diode’s previous escape from Fuyō had prompted Kaly to message her. Kalyana imagined the worst after hearing Terra’s name mentioned in the news about the accidental explosion and couldn’t cope with the worry.
“I’m happy she messaged me, but... I don’t know...”
“What’s wrong?”
“Given our situation, I’m not sure I should be talking to a younger girl.”
“Even though you had the courage to act so smug about managing to fish with older men?”
“That’s a lot different, isn’t it? This is more like protecting a weaker friend in a fight against a stronger opponent.”
“Thinking about it that way’s questionable too, though.” Diode said, then got off the bed and started straightening her sleeves and collar. “What if you thought about it as saving a girl, then?”
“You, you mean?”
“I’m not talking about me.”
“Then...?”
Terra brought her face close to Diode’s, but the girl turned around for some reason.
“Well, whatever. If you want to tell her about how you’re doing without feeling self-satisfied, then wouldn’t ‘I’m okay, I hope you’re well too’ work just fine?”
“Really? I see.”
Terra quickly set a message to be sent with a day’s delay on her minicell, and while she was at it, cued up similarly short messages to her aunt and uncle.
“Okay, done.”
“Shall we get going, then?”
“Yeah.”
The two took one last look at the room from the door. One one side of the room, a window boldly faced into their star in accordance with Fuyō’s standard design. Since only a few days had passed, it was a hospital room neither of them had any attachment to. But, at least it was a Circ room.
When they went out into the corridor, they bumped into a human nurse.
“Oh, you’re leaving? Did you get permission from the hospital system’s doctor?”
“I didn’t get permission for anything,” Diode said, flashing a smile at her. “But we’re leaving. Thank you.”
“Wait, you can’t–”
“Giddyup!”
Diode slapped Terra’s butt and took off running. Terra shrieked and jumped, then started running, too. As she did, she bowed her head and apologized to the dumbfounded nurse.
“I’m sorryyyyy! I promise this’ll be the last time we ever cause trouble for you!”
The two fled through the Typhoon Palace’s main street and towards the central lift.
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Of course, while the timing of Stanley’s appearance had been impeccable, he wasn’t there to rescue Terra. His main objective was offering relief for Fuyō to prevent it from falling into a state of anarchy. Thankfully, Ozuno’s coordination with the Ungaku family prevented the situation from disintegrating into total chaos, but the Gendō couldn’t fully settle the situation internally—there was the question of how to handle Nurude.
Fuyō’s Council of Elders claimed Nurude Shikiriyōni’s status as Clan Chief had been revoked after his terrorist act of causing a fleet-wide power outage. Their records had been modified to say so, but in the end, whether they were lying or not wasn’t Stanley’s concern. His main business was, using the authority vested in him by the Bow Awow, to capture the main offender, bring him to justice, and settle the current incident with a view towards preventing its recurrence. Since he was following up on an already unimaginable occurrence—a group of Bow Awow fishers forcing its way into Fuyō—the Gendō clan could be held in check. It gave them the ability to outright take Nurude back with them in a day or two, without the need for any hasty decisions.
On another day, meaning once the Ungaku family and Stanley had finished making adjustments, Nurude was brought into the Circ courtroom again. His position was that up until he was deposed, he had been acting under the supervision of the Ungaku family, carefully concealed by a balance of Fuyō’s social codes and historical traditions.
His daughter, Meika, remained conspicuously free. Before attention fell on her, it was her zuijin Chūya who was in the spotlight. He was a young, skilled twister who, although having carried out the Clan Chief’s absurd orders, turned against him for the sake of his clan and suppressed the mayhem while it was still unfolding. That act alone was enough to massively boost his reputation, but information later leaked from some source or another made it widely known he had even secretly saved the Clan Chief’s daughter. Additionally, this leak—still unconfirmed—stated that at the height of the fighting with the Bow Awow fishers, it was the Clan Chief’s daughter who had destroyed the Tamatebako’s core. While there was debate over whether or not this story was mere rumor, the two grew even more popular.
It was what left Meika Shikiriyōni Keiwaku in a position where she could walk around in public. She was busy handling the Keiwaku family’s internal and external business in place of her father, who was under house arrest, and her mother, who fully dedicated herself to housekeeping work.
The Keiwaku had lost their power, however, and it was almost as if it had never had it in the first place. Even the Gendō formerly delegated to residences in other base ships had been at their service, but the Keiwaku could no longer expect that. Nearly all of the zuijin employed by the Bureau of Protocol, who were treated as personal servants, had disappeared. Not observable from the outside were the foreign residents (most of whom freeloaded off of other Gendō families) who had written letters to Meika, expressing interest in her as a potential wife. Those letters no longer arrived, their feelings having completely flipped.
The sentiments that rained down on Meika’s black hair, especially those of the Gendō clan’s families, were that even if she were to marry her zuijin of lower standing, their child would certainly return the Keiwaku family to prominence.
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The fishbone cargo ship that looked halfway to the scrapyard had been moved to a corner of the huge pressurized storage facility tucked away in a corner of the pedicel port on Fuyō’s south face.
A voice called out to two figures—one big and one small—who were attempting to open the door to its airlock.
“Where are you going, Kanna-san and Terra-san?”
The two turned around and saw a girl loosen her midnight black hair and start slowly floating towards them.
“None of your business.”
“Oh? Perhaps you should reconsider the way you’re speaking to me.”
“I know you’re the one behind this, aren’t you?” Diode pointed at a lump of clay glued tightly to the Insomnia’s outer hatch lock. “We can’t get in unless it’s taken off, and if we take it off it’ll alert you. You locked it with a stupid piece of awful clay.”
“Indeed, you are correct, but it doesn’t need to be removed. I am notified if anyone even approaches.”
“You poison blender bitch!”
“I missed your insults. They have not changed one bit... but now, I have nothing.” Meika whispered the same thing she told Diode on arrival, but this time with a much more bittersweet tone. “The Ungaku, in their gentleness, have stripped me of everything. The zuijin who used to be at my beck and call have scattered, and now I am even subject to a fishing restriction... the only thing left to me is the sight of you.”
She extended a hand, as if pleading. “Won’t you please tell me what it is you are doing?”
It made Diode frown, but still, she looked at Terra, who nodded to her.
“She’s pretty much already got it figured out, anyway.”
“...We’re going to Zugspitze, Meika,” Diode whispered. “There’s a Guāngguànhuán Drive.”
“I knew it.” Meika wore a faint smile. “I thought the outside of this ship was a clay imitation hiding an old, fast ship inside—stop this, won’t you?”
“No way, this idea of having kids we don’t want together gives me the willies.”
“But what if I said it was for the sake of our opposing this stupid, primitive system in solidarity, then?”
Diode, who was unwillingly conversing, and Terra, who was merely listening, both had their eyes shoot wide open.
Meika looked towards the plain, inconspicuous Insomnia, then around the huge base ship’s storage facility.
“Women cast nets and bear children, so even when we develop a fishing method, it goes unrecognized—and men who cast nets have to hide in shame. Would you destroy this antiquated world—this ship—at my side, Kanna-san?”
“Meika...”
“And you as well, Terra-san.” She gently floated over and placed a hand on Terra’s shoulder. “You are our ally, are you not? Won’t you lend us a hand? You seem so dependable...”
“No, I... uh...”
Meika’s proposal was bold and direct. Terra couldn’t give her a straight answer, so she averted her eyes and responded with a question of her own.
“What if it was the other way around instead... and you left together with us?”
“Terra-san?!”
“My, my, are you inviting me along?” Despite Diode’s surprise, Meika shook her head. “That is a wonderful proposal, but... are you aware of the substance of yesterday’s Bow Awow transmission, Terra-san? They were discussing the question posed by former Clan Chief Nurude. What do you believe it is that most interests the clans?”
“Bow Awow transmission? No, I didn’t really listen–”
“It was whether another Tamatebako exists. It has become a matter of urgency to determine whether a device that can be used to coerce other clans exists or not, and to that end, they are carrying out a maximum priority investigation. They are ostensibly working to reduce danger, but their true motives are plain as day—they believe there will be trouble if others have it, so they are hoping they have one, too.” Meika giggled, as if she found it all amusing, then took a breath and continued. “Is it true that we Circs are exiles? What about the nearby star system under attack by clay lifeforms? Do we have any interstellar spaceships? And more importantly, just what is decomping? Not a siiiiingle person said a word on those topics! None of those chickens have an iota of courage in addressing matters of actual importance. The Bow Awow is simply a bunch of old fogeys who believe they can solve a crisis by shoving their heads in the sand like an ostrich! Hilarious, really!”
“All but two.”
“What?”
“There were two,” Diode corrected. “Two Elders mentioned those things. A Trades and a Nuer, I think...? They suggested raising the question with the next Dàxúnniǎo, but they were simply brushed off.”
“So you did listen,” Meika’s tone softened, aware she had been caught in a lie. “But still, that means they are not very interested—Terra-san, you understand that, do you not? It is very easy to say you are going to leave, but it means bringing a bunch of foot-draggers along with you. You are aware of that, right? It would be easier to–”
“Um, sorry, but...” Terra interrupted her, even though she felt bad doing it. “That’s not what’s happening here.”
“What?”
“We’re not doing this for other people’s sake, or to act as scouts for the Circs. What we’re doing—Die-san and I—is throwing everything away and running off.”
Terra remembered Ozuno’s tone in their earlier conversation sounded somewhat like he was entrusting them to act as some sort of fact-finding team, but that wasn’t their focus—reflecting on it made her feel like kicking herself, so she did.
“Sorry to disappoint you, but... we’re really just setting out on an irresponsible journey.”
“What...? But, it’s not like you are setting out to die?” Meika asked, shaken. “Are you not going to inform your clan when you return?”
“Let me put it this way instead... what makes you think we’re coming back? Because where we’re headed—” Her next words came with no pause. “We have no idea whether it’s a good or bad place. There’s no guarantee that we’ll be welcomed by humans. Not just that, we don’t know if oxygen or water will be available. We’re taking this ship on a one-way journey into the unknown.”
“Now you’ve gone and said it...” Diode sighed.
“I sure did.” Terra smiled at her bitterly.
“You two...? A one-way trip? That’s...” Meika looked at them in disbelief.
Diode quietly cleared her throat, and pointing at Terra, told Meika, “Well, I guess you could call it that.”
“...Gh!” Meika grit her teeth, raised her hand slightly, and—
“Kanna-sama, Terra-san, run...!”
Chūya came rushing out of a corridor and pointed above Terra and Diode. Ranju had come along with him.
“Meika-sama, you mustn’t!”
Hearing him, the two looked up to see the huge crane for moving ships had already been positioned above the Insomnia and was opening its claws. Terra hastily remolded the clay blocking the outer hatch to remove it, then threw Diode and their luggage into the airlock.
“Wait! Wait, please...!”
Despite her shouting, they weren’t worried about her jumping in behind them. They waved goodbye to Meika and closed the hatch.
“...Is this ship a model with a control pit?” Diode asked.
“No, it’s an old model operated by a crew. I did secretly stow our two pits inside, though.” Terra replied, then stepped through the open interior hatch. “Eda-san, are you here?”
As she called for Eda, she climbed up to the bridge, where the radial arrangement of seats was located. They were empty. The lights of the boating system display were on, but she received no reply from it, nor from her minicell.
“Looks like she’s not here,” Diode said, following behind her.
“Your seat’s over there, Die-san.” Terra pointed to the captain’s seat in the middle, then sat down at the first-mate’s navigation seat. “I guess Eda-san is giving it her all with Fuyō.”
“Meaning, what you told me about her manually flying in place of the ship’s boating system? Was she the type to do that?”
“Yeah.” Terra felt her chest tighten thinking of the original Eda’s job 300 years ago. “And just when she’d gotten another chance, too...”
“Should we wait on her?”
Just as Diode asked that, they heard a chime. A single sentence appeared on the display.
“...A data connection to Fuyō’s fishing officer?”
Displayed were the indispensable official departure request for Insomnia, their departure permit, and a notification they were approaching the medium-sized boating airlock. Terra laughed.
“It’s like she’s telling us to get going.”
“And we can do it without blowing shit up thanks to her.”
The two saw Meika was attempting to slip away from Chūya and Ranju, who had her arms pinned behind her back, through the external cameras as they entered the airlock. Diode’s eyes restlessly scanned over control systems she was seeing for the very first time as she made adjustments to thrusters by quadrant and pulsed them gently to get a handle on their idiosyncrasies. As she practiced, the base ship seemed to have finished sucking the air back in and released the external door. The remaining air vented out into the vacuum of space alongside them.
They changed course with the low-velocity jets, passed by the uncouth port cannon, and headed beyond the anti-debris hull. The whirls of Fat Beach Ball hung over their left, while the fixed star Mother Beach Ball glowed faintly in jet black space to their right.
“How is it, Die-san? Do you think you can handle this ship?”
“Well, it’s not bad for a 300-year-old junk heap. Can you handle navigating to our destination and the procedure to activate the Guāngguànhuán drive?”
“I’ve already taken care of navigation, but apparently we just have to press a button. It is an escape ship, so...”
“I see.”
Terra floated from her seat and groaned as she gracefully stretched her tall figure. Diode, seeing that, began rolling her shoulders.
“So this is finally happening...”
“Yeah, we’ve gotten this far!”
Terra jumped towards the captain’s seat and snuggled her golden head into the silver hair, which even now had that faint, bittersweet scent. The girl wrapped her slender arms around Terra’s neck and immediately pulled herself close, then looked at the navigation details before turning to the sea of clouds they had known all their lives.
“Now, let’s make our choice. You decide—do we stay here where it somehow all might work out if we try our damndest to put up with it, or do we risk atomizing ourselves the moment we make the jump to a place we don’t know a damn thing about?”
Terra pointed at the planet’s horizon. “I thought the fried shrimp-like back at Johor was kinda tasty...”
“So off we go, then.”
“Noooo! I was kidding!”
The two pressed the absurdly conspicuous red button.
The Guāngguànhuán interstellar travel drive activated. Four protruding blades on the stern, marking the diameter of a ring, opened a hole in space and maintained it. They could only observe the hole when it passed in front of background objects, and once the gravitational potential between their present location and destination equalized, the two scenes were layered on top of one another.
The Insomnia turned into a small particle of light and disappeared into a whirling hole. Indeed, a payment of sorts was to be made when their mass ejected at their destination in two weeks’ time, but by then that payment would be beyond human sensation. When people spent a part of themselves they weren’t even aware of to navigate, they had no hesitation in doing so.
Swallowing light, the sphere’s contours glowed faintly before extinguishing completely.