Chapter 136

"Yeah, this definitely isn't the kind of place you’d put on a tourism brochure," Teiro muttered, surveying the gloom.

In the dim, narrow alleys, people with apathy etched into their faces loitered aimlessly. There were bodies everywhere—likely the homeless—curled up on the ground behind makeshift partitions of thin, tin-like iron sheeting. Their presence turned the already cramped passage into a claustrophobic gauntlet where two adults could barely squeeze past each other without trading sweat.

This wretched atmosphere had been the constant ever since Teiro sneaked into the Living Quarters. It wasn't just one bad block; the whole sector was a sprawling monument to urban decay. Privacy was a myth here; the air was thick with the sounds of cramped lives—the drone of distant conversations, the sharp wail of infants, and the chaotic shouting of children echoing from the shadows, exactly as Bella had described.

"A word of advice, Mr. Teiro. Please prioritize your safety," Koume said from behind him, her face as expressionless as a polished countertop as she scanned their surroundings. "While I take pride in my multi-functional nature, I am afraid I won't be of much use if things turn... violent."

"I know, I know," Teiro replied curtly. He reached up and felt the reassuring weight of the handgun tucked inside his jacket.

I thought I picked out the perfect set of rags for a disguise, but compared to the locals, I still look like I’m wearing a tuxedo. I really should have hit up a flea market first.

In a place this desolate, the secondhand clothing market had to be thriving. Teiro cursed his lack of foresight. The heavy, lingering stares of the people they passed were beginning to make his skin crawl.

"Let’s wander around a bit more and then head back to the Commercial District. Koume, you got the route? Because I honestly have no idea where the hell we are."

"Rest assured, Mr. Teiro. While the terrain is an intricately messy three-dimensional maze, it is remarkably simple compared to an electronic circuit. This is child's play."

"Glad one of us is confident. Well, let’s try heading that way for now."

"Certainly, Mr. Teiro. Might I ask what is in that direction?"

"No clue. That’s exactly why we’re going."

Teiro gave a nonchalant shrug and set off with a brisk pace. Koume, dressed in a utilitarian work uniform similar to his, followed in his wake as they pushed deeper into the heart of the Living Quarters.

"An open facility... What’s this? A hospital?" Teiro stopped to peer into a building with a wide-open entrance. Inside the spartan structure, a line of people with hollow, lifeless eyes stretched back into the shadows.

"No, that seems unlikely, Mr. Teiro. This is most likely a Distribution Facility or a soup kitchen. It appears the local food situation is quite dire."

At the front of the line, a man wielding a massive ladle was serving the crowd, slopping a soup-like substance into whatever cups or bowls the residents held out.

"Is this the fallout from Enzio’s Food Policy?"

"Who can say, Mr. Teiro? The only thing Koume can say for certain is that the people here are profoundly impoverished."

"Poverty, huh..." Teiro frowned.

He watched a man shuffle out of the facility with his meager prize and caught a glimpse of the contents. "Is that porridge? Looks like it’s made from rice."

"It is likely that the Food Stations distributed by the EAP are being utilized here, Mr. Teiro. Currently, Natural Food is being consumed primarily out of sheer necessity rather than preference."

"I see. So the rich get to keep their traditional bread and steaks, while everyone else gets this... Man, I originally developed that stuff for the high-end luxury market."

Teiro felt a bitter irony twist in his gut. What was supposed to be a boutique product for the Natural Food Faction—the elite health-nuts of the galaxy—had been rebranded as survival mush for the starving. He didn't hate that it was helping people, but the gap between his intent and the reality was a jarring reminder of how unpredictable the universe could be.

"Hey, you... you lining up or what? Make up your mind!" a gruff voice snapped from behind.

Teiro turned to see a surly-looking man glaring at him. "Ah, sorry about that," Teiro said, bowing his head and stepping aside to let the man pass before making a quick exit.

"On a side note, Mr. Teiro," Koume added as they walked, "the official maps issued by the Station Management Department make no mention of that facility. It would be wise to treat their data as fiction."

"Ugh. If the maps are wrong, it means they’ve completely lost control of the situation on the ground, right?"

"That is a logical deduction. Furthermore, I highly doubt the Management Department has any accurate data on these residents. The official population counts and economic reports are likely works of pure imagination."

"Hmm. We’re going to need a strategy for the illegal residents. Maybe a temporary amnesty or some kind of exception? If we try to enforce the rules by the book, this whole place is going to explode."

"Indeed. Riots would be a certainty. Our current containment facilities wouldn't be able to hold even a fraction of the resulting arrests."

"Sigh... Well, I guess it was worth coming here just to learn that. I was all ready to charge in and 'restore order,' but it looks like I need to spend a lot more time cooking up a nuanced plan. A long-term one."

Teiro began mentally scribbling edits onto his Alliance Operations Plan. Applying rigid, bureaucratic logic to a powder keg like this was a recipe for a very loud disaster.

"Rapid change only invites chaos. Your caution is wise... By the way, Mr. Teiro. Regarding our little 'undercover' excursion, did you happen to request a security detail from Miss Bella?"

Teiro blinked, tilting his head. "What are you talking about?"

Koume didn't look at him, keeping her eyes fixed forward. "Please continue looking straight ahead. We have been under constant surveillance by multiple individuals since we left the Distribution Facility. I have attempted several random course corrections, but they remain at a fixed distance. Unless we are bound by the red strings of fate, Koume calculates the probability of this being a coincidence as zero."

"Well, that’s depressing. I’ve already decided my red strings of fate are strictly reserved for beauties. Let’s get out of here."

"I concur, Mr. Teiro. However, is there not a lingering possibility that our stalkers are, in fact, gorgeous women?"

"Koume, whenever you smile like that, it usually means something terrible is about to happen to me. They’re all dudes, aren't they?"

"Oh my, how cynical. But yes, they are indeed all men."

"Right. Time to go."

Ignoring Koume’s mischievous smirk, Teiro intentionally let his jacket fall open to reveal his gun. He drew it, gave it a casual, conspicuous flourish over his head, and then tucked it back into his holster.

If they keep coming after that, they’ve got a real objective. Assassination, kidnapping, something fun like that. If they do, I’ll call Bella and we sprint for it. If not, they’re just local thugs looking for an easy mark.

Recalling the lessons Phantom had beat into his head, Teiro began to walk away with a relaxed, easy stride. Koume watched him for a moment with a look of genuine surprise before trotting to catch up.

The shadows behind them remained empty. The tail had been cut.

"So, how was it, kid? Find anything useful?"

When they returned to the moored Plum, Bella was waiting for them, lounging comfortably in the captain's seat.

"Yeah, I learned plenty... but honestly, I don't even know how to process it yet."

"Oh? How so?"

"I have my own opinions on what I saw, but at the end of the day, I’m just an outsider looking in. I have no idea what the people actually living in that mess—the 'insiders'—really think."

"I see... Heh. You’re going to be a good leader, kid."

"Don't start with that. And stop calling me a kid, I'm not a child."

Teiro tried to duck away, but Bella reached out and messily ruffled his hair anyway.

"To me, you'll always be like a little brother. But listen... if you’ve got time to kill, why not find a local collaborator? Everything gets easier when you have someone you can trust to give you the straight talk."

"I mean, sure, but does Miss Bella have someone like that?"

"Of course I do. In the Alpha Star System, we run marginal operations—everything from sewage treatment to prostitution brokers. Basically, all the 'bottom-tier' jobs are handled by subsidiaries of the station management. It’s a secret, obviously. To those workers, I’m just a 'reliable big sister' who keeps the lights on."

"Right... so you get the raw truth from the employees. I guess you can’t fix a problem if you don't know what it actually looks like."

"Exactly. You should try a few things out. Our regular employees are all middle-class with stable paychecks; their opinions are skewed. You could send Alan or Phantom to do the digging, but you’re the type who needs to see it for yourself, right?"

"Yeah. Hearing it and feeling it are two different things."

Teiro thought back to the crushing poverty he’d witnessed on Wyoming. He had "knowledge" of the problems in the frontier, but he hadn't "understood" them. What he found was nothing like the sanitized version in his head.

He’d assumed that in a world of FTL travel and advanced robotics, poverty was a relative term. He’d imagined people complaining about having iron furniture instead of real wood, or eating synthetic algae instead of organic steak.

He hadn't imagined people wondering if they were going to eat at all.

"I realized I was rich before I even knew what money was... Hmm. What to do? I should probably build an organization like yours, Bella."

"That would take way too long."

"True. Maybe I should go undercover? Slink into the shadows?"

"Who knows? Like I said, try things out. You're young... Oh, speaking of which."

Bella looked up at the main screen, bringing up an external feed. The camera zoomed in on a small, battered Work Ship floating a short distance from the Plum.

"That’s a debris salvage vessel belonging to a tiny outfit called Todd Company. Eight employees, all of them locals living in the company dorms. Looks like it’s seen better decades, doesn't it? It’s not going to explode this second, but I bet they’d be thrilled if someone fixed it for them."

The ship was hobbling through the void, its thrusters spitting out uneven, stuttering gas. Several cables trailed behind it, with workers in pressurized suits tethered to the ends, performing manual salvage. The propulsion system was clearly malfunctioning, leaving the ship wobbling in a way that looked suicidal.

"I see... You’ve really done your homework, haven't you? Fine then. I’ll go get ready."

Teiro gave a nod of thanks for the assist and ran back down the pier toward the Commercial District market.

He needed a change of clothes—something suitable for a grease-stained, overworked maintenance tech. He’d need tools, too. And a backpack full of the various junk parts required to keep an ancient, dying ship from falling apart.