Episode 140

"How do I even put this... it’s certainly… something," Sophia said, her voice caught in a weird limbo between genuine admiration and total exasperation.

She was staring at the dormitory entrance. Beside her, her sister Rammy and their three younger brothers stood in various states of slack-jawed shock.

"You’re telling me," Taro agreed, nodding as he gave the newly installed door a tentative rap with his knuckles. The metal let out a low, ominous thud. Thick. Really thick. "But this isn't just 'over-spec' anymore. The damn wall’s gonna crumble before this door even gets a scratch."

Marl, currently clutching a wrench and sporting a look of immense professional satisfaction, shot them a bright, refreshed smile.

"The warehouse was fresh out of anything else," she chirped. "I really wanted to fix the old one, but it’s such an ancient model that parts are basically artifacts at this point. It’s cheaper to just scrap it than custom-order a hinge, so I figured, why not just replace the whole thing?"

Taro squinted at the massive slab of metal. "So you just... grabbed an Internal Bulkhead Door from the Plum and slapped it on? Well, I guess it’s definitely high-grade in the 'hard to break' department."

"Right? Peace of mind is priceless! Plus, it’s compatible with Information Security Level 4. Honestly, I bet it could take a direct hit from a Frigate-class cannon. Once, anyway."

With that casual bit of terrifying trivia, Marl skipped over to Sophia. She held up the old key she’d just received from the girl and flashed a grin. "Hey, can I keep this?"

"I mean, sure... but the old door is scrap metal, isn't it? What would you even do with it?"

"Oh, it’s a vintage curiosity! I thought I’d turn it into an accessory or something. Actually, I’ll make some for everyone!"

The kids’ eyes lit up instantly. Marl gave them a thumbs-up—"One for everyone, then!"—and stuffed the jangling keys into her pocket before marching off.

"Uh... Maru?" Taro called out to her retreating back.

She was probably heading to the office, but she didn't seem to hear him. She just kept walking without so much as a glance over her shoulder.

...Okay, that’s weird. Is she sick?

Taro let out a low groan as he replayed her smile in his head. To Sophia and the kids, it probably looked like her usual cheery self, but to him, it felt just a little bit brittle. A little bit... off.

"Is something wrong with Maru-san?" Sophia asked, noticing Taro’s confusion. "She seemed fine to me."

"Yeah, hopefully that’s all it is... Anyway, you guys were heading to the Daycare, right? Lead the way."

Taro forced a burst of energy into his voice and gestured for the three brothers—who were currently vibrating with excitement over their promised "gifts"—to move out.

After dropping off Sophia’s brothers (ages ten, nine, and seven) at the Daycare, Taro headed for the Temporary Office to catch up with Marl. The space they’d rented to handle communications with the Rising Sun was so cramped it was practically a closet, but compared to the dormitory, it was a five-star resort.

The place was stark—just the BISHOP control rig and a few essential terminals—but as a makeshift base, it did the job. It’s gonna be a disaster if clients or employees actually start showing up here, Taro thought, but neither of them were the type to care about optics, so they let it slide.

"I’ve got the final notes on the post-war settlement here," Marl said, tossing a terminal at him. Taro caught it mid-air. "Looks like the EAP wants to establish several Demilitarized Zones in Enzio territory."

"Are they high?" Taro blurted out. "Seriously? With the way the WIND population has been exploding lately? That’s insane."

While they’d been busy on the Anti-Enzio Front, the WIND hadn't exactly taken a vacation. Attacks were popping up everywhere. There hadn't been any total planetary genocides yet, luckily, but the "minor" damage was stacking up. Shipping costs were skyrocketing because every freighter needed a private army just to cross the street, and the economy was taking a nosedive. Inflation was basically aiming for the moon.

"I get where they're coming from—they want to respect the victims and their families," Marl said, shrugging with a look of pure defeat. "But we need defense platforms and at least a skeleton crew garrisoned there. Problem is, nobody can agree on what 'minimum force' even means."

Taro grimaced. She’s right.

On a planet, you could at least station enough troops to buy time for a localized evacuation. But on a space station? You either have enough firepower to vaporize the entire attacking force, or you’re a sitting duck. A single WIND drone could tear a station apart if left to its own devices. They didn't care about time. They were patient little monsters.

"And if we deploy a full task force, it’s not exactly 'demilitarized' anymore, is it?" Taro muttered. "Even if they allow defense platforms, those things are basically useless without a fleet to back them up. A static gun is just a target."

"Exactly. We can’t exactly turn every outpost into a Fortress-class hub. And the WIND are getting smarter. Simple fixed batteries won't cut it anymore."

"Hmm... What if we built armored Floating Batteries?" Taro suggested, his mind spinning. "Stick some engines on a turret so it can move, and link the sensors to the station’s main grid? Hey, if we made them small enough to fit in a cargo bay, that’d be incredibly handy, wouldn't it?"

Marl stared at him. "...You just described a drone, Taro."

"...Oh. Yeah. I guess I did."

Taro swiped his finger across the terminal, dragging the entire "Defense" folder into the "Later/Probably Never" pile.

"Well, if push comes to shove, I do have one idea..."

Taro crossed his arms and stared at the ceiling. Marl looked up, surprised. "Really?"

"Yeah. Though... it’s a bit diabolical. Okay, it’s really diabolical." He glanced sideways, catching Marl’s eye. "If we can't protect the place where they live, we just move the people to a place we can protect."

The two of them spent the next few hours hashing out the specifics before calling it a day. Marl headed back to Sophia’s Work Ship to "continue repairs." In reality, Marl could have finished the job in two hours flat, but she was intentionally dragging it out over several days for her own reasons.

"Yo, runts! You still alive?"

Taro picked up the high-energy trio from the Daycare and spent the walk home playing tag and giving shoulder rides. The kids had taken to him with terrifying speed, and Taro found himself actually enjoying the company of the little monsters.

Kids are the same whether they’re on Earth or some rust-bucket station in space. All they care about is having fun right this second. God, I’m jealous.

He navigated the cramped Residential District, trying to remember if he’d ever been that carefree. The memories were so faint they were practically ghosts. I wonder if the day will come when even this tiny lingering scent of 'normalcy' vanishes, he thought, glancing up at the distant, metallic "sky" of the station.

"Welcome back, Taro-san! Dinner’s ready!"

Sophia greeted them at the door, and soon all seven of them were packed into the room for a meal. The menu: fried rice—a culinary gift to this world from Taro himself!!—and some watery, tasteless soup. Throw in a side of nutrient paste, and you had a feast.

Taro realized he was genuinely having a good time. There was no Security Squad hovering over his shoulder to prevent assassinations, and no corporate vipers waiting for him to slip up during a deal. Sure, Bella’s Security Department was crawling all over the surrounding modules, and any anomaly within a hundred meters would be intercepted instantly, but for this one moment, Taro felt like he could just... breathe.

"Please, try not to fall out," Sophia said, looking worriedly at the hammock.

"I’m on the bottom bunk, I'll be fine," Taro laughed.

He hopped into his wall-mounted hammock, and a few moments later, the lights flicked off. Usually, they dimmed gradually, so the sudden darkness was a bit of a shock, but it felt strangely nostalgic.

There’s a real sense of connection here... I wonder which life is actually the 'happy' one.

In the heart of the Galactic Empire, you had everything. You never lacked for anything, and you didn't even have to leave your house to work. But the human element was paper-thin. Most people only knew others as faces on a screen.

But here? You couldn't do anything without someone else. The guy at the Daycare was covered in grime and didn't even own a terminal, yet he knew every single kid’s name and every parent’s face by heart. In the Empire, that job had been automated into oblivion centuries ago.

It was filthy here. It was poor. Everyone was exhausted. But they were still laughing. Maybe it was just because they weren't alone.

"...I’m getting soft," Taro muttered, his brain turning to mush as sleep finally started to claw at him.

He could hear the soft breathing of the brothers above him, and the gentle rhythm of Sophia’s breath told him she was out, too.

"Right. Soft about what?"

A whisper. Barely audible.

Taro craned his neck and saw a silhouette standing right next to him. Marl.

"Nothing... Anyway, what’s up? Can’t sleep?"

Taro pushed himself up on his elbows to see her face, but the room was too dark to read her expression.

"Yeah... something like that. Hey... scoot over."

Before he could process the request, Marl was shove-shoving him toward the wall. Taro’s brain short-circuited. What? What is happening? He obediently plastered himself against the cold bulkhead.

"...Wait, huh? Marl? What are you—?"

"Shhh!! You'll wake everyone up!"

Marl wiggled her way into the tiny, one-person hammock. Their bodies were pressed together, and Taro was approximately three seconds away from a total system-wide panic attack. He tried to summon every ounce of his "Expert Professional Space Mercenary" calm.

"This—this isn't the toilet, you know! I mean, I’m not saying that kind of thing is off the table, but isn't this a bit fast? Or is it not? Look, I am absolutely, one-hundred-percent willing to try and understand your logic here, but—"

"...Sorry," she whispered, her voice small and heavy. "Just let me sleep here tonight. Just for tonight."

Taro’s frantic rambling died in his throat. The sheer weight of her voice acted like a bucket of cold water on his racing heart. His internal "Oh God, it’s happening" sirens fell silent.

"............Well, it’s not like I own the bed. Do whatever you want."

Taro muttered the words toward the wall. He knew there was zero chance he was getting any sleep now, but he closed his eyes anyway. He thought he heard a tiny "Thank you" from behind him, but he didn't say a word.