Episode 10

Starting with Chapter 2, I’m aiming to post every other day.

"Waaaaagh! H-help! Gloob-urgh-ack!?"

Taro was a human pinball. Careening through the zero-gravity void, he slammed into a wall and bounced off with all the grace of a billiard ball hitting a cushion, drifting aimlessly toward the ceiling.

[MR. TEIRO. I DO NOT MIND YOU FROLICKING, BUT WE WILL NEVER REACH THE STATION AT THIS RATE.]

"Like I have a choice! Wait—stop! Agah-ooph!!"

After a series of violent collisions involving his elbows and knees, Taro managed to use his limbs as shock absorbers to stick a landing on the floor. Vowing never to perform such a pathetic, spinning display again, he stayed low, crawling toward the station’s pier. I probably look like a total creep, but hey, safety over dignity.

"Honestly, Teiro. The lock from your side is—eek! Disgusting!!"

Beyond the sliding automatic doors, a woman stood with her arms crossed, looking down at him with palpable judgment. She wore a skin-tight suit, but it wasn't the kind worn by the salarymen Taro remembered from Earth; it was a loud, garish orange design. Her head was encased in a smoked helmet, making it impossible to see her face, but Taro was certain her expression was one of pure, concentrated exasperation.

"Heh... it seems this method of locomotion was simply too advanced for humanity."

"Yeah... sure. Honestly? You’re a total turn-off."

Taro laughed off the embarrassment, shouting, "Don’t praise me too much!" as he stood up with a flourish. His momentum immediately sent him sailing back into the air. He clutched his head, anticipating the pain of another ceiling-bonk, but Marl lunged forward and grabbed his leg just in time.

"I was skeptical, but you really are a Surface Dweller... No one raised on a station would be this stupid. It’s fine here because there’s a roof, but if this were an open atrium, you’d be drifting off as space dust by now."

With Marl still firmly gripping his ankle, she grabbed a high-speed wire running along the wall. Taro was suddenly hauled toward the station proper. The wall featured several wires of varying speeds; Marl hopped between them with practiced ease, accelerating them at a dizzying pace.

"Is this a moving walkway? No, it’s a moving handrail! Wait, Miss Marl! Isn't this a bit too fast?! Between the speed and my current posture, I’m freaking out here!"

As Marl grabbed the highest-speed cable, Taro let out a panicked shriek. The acceleration was so intense he felt like his leg might actually pop out of its socket.

"Listen, do you have any idea how many dozens of kilometers it is from the pier to the main hub? If we take our sweet time, the sun will have set by the time we get there."

Taro was dragged down the corridor at a literal flying pace, staring up at the ceiling from his position on his back. He was on the verge of a fear-induced bladder failure, but at the same time, a warm sense of excitement bubbled in his chest. There was a human being here who talked back to him—and the corridor was teeming with people.

"…………Beautiful."

They finally reached the station's interior—a place where gravity actually existed. Taro, looking like something the cat dragged in, crawled to his feet and caught sight of Marl’s face as she finally removed her helmet. She had striking red hair and emerald-green eyes. Her nose was sharp, her eyes were large, and while she was on the shorter side, the body lines visible through her tight suit were... well, impressive.

"Oh? Thanks. But hearing that from an Iceman doesn't really do much for me."

"Iceman?"

"That’s what we call people like you who wake up from cold sleep. Now stay put. I’m going to handle the Ship Registration and get you a Registry Certificate. Excuse me."

Without warning, Marl reached out and plucked a single hair from Taro’s head. She inspected it with a skeptical squint before walking toward a nearby control terminal.

"Ow! A little warning next time... But I get it. DNA registration, huh? Can you really make a legal identity that easily?"

He muttered the question to nobody in particular, but the device hanging from his belt hummed to life.

[AFFIRMATIVE, MR. TEIRO. THE GALACTIC EMPIRE’S NEURAL NETWORK STORES THE DNA DATA OF EVERY REGISTERED RESIDENT. IF THE DNA FROM THAT HAIR DOES NOT MATCH ANY EXISTING RECORDS, YOUR REGISTRY WILL BE COMPLETED WITHOUT ISSUE.]

"Whoa," Taro replied blankly. He didn't quite grasp the technical nuances of a "Neural Network," but he figured it was probably just a fancy version of the internet. "But man, look at this crowd... Is this like an airport gate?"

[THAT UNDERSTANDING IS CORRECT, MR. TEIRO. UNTIL YOU PASS THE GATE IN FRONT OF US, YOU ARE NOT TECHNICALLY INSIDE THE STATION.]

"I see. So, basically, as long as you don't cross that line, it doesn't matter if you have a legal identity or not?"

[A KEEN OBSERVATION, MR. TEIRO. MANY INDIVIDUALS WITHOUT REGISTRIES CONDUCT TRADE OR BUSINESS IN THIS NEUTRAL ZONE. SINCE THE STATION STILL COLLECTS DOCKING FEES, THEY TURN A BLIND EYE. NO BUREAUCRATIC HASSLE, NO RESOURCE CONSUMPTION—YOU ARE CONSIDERED AN EXCELLENT CUSTOMER.]

Taro exhaled a sigh of admiration as he watched the bustling crowd. He didn't see any octopus-shaped aliens or pint-sized dwarves. If anything was different from Earth, it was the sheer, vibrant diversity of skin, eye, and hair colors.

"I’m a little disappointed... I was hoping for some bug-eyed monsters or something."

[INSECTOIDS, MR. TEIRO? WHILE THEY DO EXIST WITHIN IMPERIAL TERRITORY, THEY ARE NOT COMMON IN THIS PARTICULAR STAR SYSTEM.]

"They actually exist?! Seriously!?"

Despite being told they weren't common, Taro began scanning his surroundings with renewed hope. He didn't find any bugs, but he did spot people with wings and others with literal horns.

"This is insane... Whoa, Koume-san, look! Is that a robot?"

Taro pointed at a man with a gleaming metallic body. His face was sculpted with realistic human features, but his mechanical elbow and knee joints were completely exposed, moving with an eerie, fluid precision.

[YES, MR. TEIRO. IF IT UTILIZED ORGANIC MATERIAL, IT WOULD BE CLASSIFIED AS A CYBORG, BUT THAT IS LIKELY A FULLY AUTOMATED ROBOT. IT APPEARS TO BE A STATE-OF-THE-ART MODEL. I AM QUITE ENVIOUS.]

Koume spun her makeshift wheels for emphasis.

"Right... I guess you’d want a body like that too, huh? Sorry for making you look so... well, like a DIY project. I know! Once we sell the ship and the credits start rolling in, I’ll buy you a body just like that."

[……THANK YOU, MR. TEIRO. HOWEVER, THE SENTIMENT ALONE IS SUFFICIENT. SUCH MODELS ARE PROHIBITIVELY EXPENSIVE. FOR NOW, WE HAVE MANY OTHER FINANCIAL PRIORITIES.]

"No, but still—oh, she's back."

Taro spotted Marl approaching and gave her a small wave.

"Alright, here’s your Ship Registration and your Registry Certificate. You’re officially a full-fledged Imperial Citizen. Also, I’m not a fan of 'informal' deals, so sign this. It’s the Sales Agreement between us."

Taro caught the small black chip she tossed him. "What’s this? An SD card?"

"No. Seriously, how ancient are you? It’s a Pulse Chip. It’s... ugh, just give it here."

Looking thoroughly fed up, Marl snatched the chip back and slapped it directly onto Taro’s forehead. Wait, what? Following her command to "Start BISHOP," Taro felt a mental ping.

[NEW DATA DETECTED. ADDING FUNCTION GROUP: SALES CONTRACT.]

"It’s a chip that transmits data directly via brainwaves," Marl explained. "You might know this already, but BISHOP’S Function Groups aren't just for programs. Databases are treated as functions too. It’s temporary memory, though, so don't expect to suddenly 'know' a whole dictionary."

"Convenient," Taro remarked idly, browsing the contract’s contents in his mind. It was essentially a legalized version of their verbal agreement—nothing overly predatory, but nothing overly generous either.

"So how do I... oh, I see. Connect to the Signature Function and sign. Done. Hey, Koume, I’m a total amateur when it comes to legal stuff. This looks okay, right? She’s not going to come back later with a hidden bill and go, 'I've got the contract right here, sucker!' is she?"

[YOU WATCH TOO MANY MOVIES, MR. TEIRO. ALSO, A PULSE CHIP REQUIRES DIRECT PHYSICAL CONTACT TO TRANSMIT DATA. PLEASE TRANSFER THE INFORMATION TO ME.]

"Oh, right. Makes sense. Otherwise, everyone’s secrets would be leaking out everywhere. Here."

Taro peeled the chip off his forehead and slapped it onto Koume’s sensor lamp.

[……PROCESSED, MR. TEIRO. THE CONTRACT TERMS APPEAR TO BE WITHIN ACCEPTABLE PARAMETERS. IF I HAD TO BE CRITICAL, THE COMPENSATION OWED BY MISS MARL IS DEFINED VAGUELY AS 'DAILY LIVING SUPPORT.' HOWEVER, GIVEN MISS MARL’S CHARACTER, I DEEM HER SUFFICIENTLY TRUSTWORTHY. WOULDN'T YOU AGREE, MISS MARL?]

Koume’s voice was as cool and analytical as ever. Marl offered a wry smile and reached out to gently pat Koume’s spherical chassis.

"You’re way more competent than your owner, aren't you? Fine, I’ll draft an addendum later with the specific details spelled out. Sound fair?"

[YES, OF COURSE, MISS MARL. YOU ARE INDEED A PERSON OF INTEGRITY.]

Marl was smiling. Koume’s synthetic voice remained as flat as ever.

And yet, Taro could have sworn that Koume sounded like she was having the time of her life.