Chapter 166

"You absolute moron!"

Phantom spat the words into the dusty corner of the dark warehouse. Normally, he was the guy who kept his cool even while being shot at, but right now, the sheer level of incompetence was actually making him nauseous.

"I am so sorry... this is my responsibility," Olivia whispered.

She was slumped on the floor, staring at her knees as if they held the secrets of the universe. Phantom shot a look of pure irritation at the dejected NASA Alliance Leader. Her long, platinum-gold hair trailed across the floor like a discarded silk fan.

"No kidding it’s your responsibility," Phantom snapped, glaring at her. "Whatever your reasons were, if there was a problem, you should have opened your mouth. This whole mess was avoidable."

During the meeting with RS, Olivia had conveniently failed to mention that NASA was currently a powder keg of internal rebellion.

I get it, Phantom thought, his irritation simmering. It’s a family matter. Survival of the clan and all that. But that’s exactly why you don’t keep secrets from the people holding the guns. At this point, everything was spiraling toward a worst-case scenario for everyone involved.

"You’re right," Olivia said, her voice trembling. "It’s a pathetic excuse, but we aren't exactly experts at high-stakes diplomacy. We’ve had no one to talk to for so long that we’ve forgotten how... Um, what happens to us now?"

She looked up at him with those big, pleading eyes. Phantom ignored her entirely, crossing his arms as he ran through the variables.

"What happens? If anything happens to the President, Rising Sun and its subsidiaries will rain down a retribution so thorough your grandkids will feel it. You people seem to think that as long as you control the Ladder, you’re safe. Newsflash: the elevator is for convenience. If we just want to come down and kill you, a Planetary Descent Craft works just fine."

The Orbital Satellite Elevator was a matter of logistics and cost-cutting. Sure, it was comfortable and safe, but at its core, it was just a way to save a buck. If the President’s life was on the line, the cost of burning fuel for a direct planetary landing was a non-issue.

"Is that so...?" Olivia’s head drooped again, her shoulders shaking. "We really are just... ignorant, aren't we?"

Pitter-patter. Droplets hit the floor, forming small, dark stains in the dust.

"Quit crying and start thinking," Phantom said, his voice like ice. "If you really feel that stupid, then use this as a learning experience. Your BISHOP might be offline, but you still have a brain. The President doesn't care if you're an Outsider or a space alien, but he’s not running a charity for the incompetent."

He pulled out his portable terminal and flicked through the local maps.

"If joining RS wasn't just your personal whim, you’ve got allies. Whether we’re persuading people or shooting them, we need to regroup. Where can we find your people?"

He tossed the terminal at her feet. Olivia scrambled to grab it, wiping her face with the back of her hand as she tapped at the screen.

"Mike's combat unit... they should be near Block 6. But the Central Block is completely locked down. We can't get through. If we can find someone from the administration—"

"Forget the pencil pushers," Phantom interrupted, standing up. "Not helpful. We need guns and people brave enough to pull the triggers. Let’s move. You can explain the political drama while we run."

He’d slipped into this central warehouse after faking a getaway near the medical wing, but it was only a matter of time before the search parties doubled back.

Phantom drew his Revolver and clicked off the safety. He stared at the cylinder for a second, debating a furniture change, but decided to stick with what he had.

"Are we... are we going through the center?" Olivia asked, sounding like she was about to faint.

Phantom opened his mouth to give her a sarcastic "No, we’re going to tunnel through the floor," but he caught himself.

"Hey," he muttered, not looking at her. "Are you an Outsider too?"

"Yes," she whispered.

Phantom let out a low, weary groan and pulled spare rounds from his pocket.

"The enemies, the allies... everyone’s an Outsider. God, what a sick joke."

Once upon a time, Phantom had fought to protect the Outsiders. Now, he was about to go to war against them. He knew the NASA rebels weren't exactly the 'good guys' in this scenario, but he knew exactly what was driving them.

"These are Rubber Bullets," he said, loading the non-lethal rounds. "If I hit someone in the eye, they’re dead, but otherwise, they’ll just have a really bad day. If you can't handle seeing your friends get bruised, don't scream and give away our position."

He scooped Olivia up like a sack of potatoes and bolted. She let out a tiny, muffled shriek at the sudden G-force, but he didn't care. His Revolver made enough noise to wake the dead; they weren't exactly going for "stealth" anymore.

---

The Underground City Center was currently a stirred-up beehive.

An armed intruder was loose and heading for critical infrastructure. That report had come in fifteen minutes ago, yet the intruder was still playing tag with security.

"What are you idiots doing?!" Antonio roared at his men. "You can't even catch one damn mouse?"

The soldiers shuffled their feet, looking more confused than ashamed. Antonio stopped pacing and glared. "Well? Speak up!"

"Sir... the intruder’s movements are... not humanly possible," one soldier stammered. "We’re assuming he’s a high-end Cyborg, but..."

Antonio snorted. "So? Use the High Magnetic Bodies. Fry his circuits."

A Cyborg was just a walking pile of scrap metal. Even with an insulated synthetic skin, there were always gaps. A high-intensity magnetic field should have turned him into a very expensive paperweight.

"That’s the thing, sir. He doesn't react to magnetism. At all. Electric Guns didn't work either."

"What? Is he just a normal guy?"

"No, sir. His mass-to-size ratio is way too high for a human. We think the guys upstairs might have cooked up a new model."

"Fine," Antonio growled. "Seal the block. Cut the air conditioning. If he won't stop, we’ll just roast him alive."

"The AC, sir? But our own men are still in there."

"I don't care. Do it. It’s better than letting the casualty count keep climbing."

Antonio winced, a stabbing pain lancing through his temples. He barked a final "Just get it done!" and stormed off toward his private quarters.

He walked the halls in a daze until he reached his room, where he collapsed onto the bed and buried his face in his hands.

"What am I doing?" he groaned. "Why are we fighting RS? When did this even start?"

His memory was a blurry, foggy mess. He’d been having these headaches for weeks. He grabbed a bottle of painkillers and shook a handful into his mouth.

"Whoa there, partner. Don't go overboard on those. The side effects are a real killer."

Antonio jumped. Henry was sitting right next to him, looking concerned. When the hell had he gotten in?

"Henry... Yeah. I’m fine. Just a headache."

Antonio pulled a silver cross pendant from his shirt and pressed it to his forehead. Henry watched him, a thin, unreadable smile on his face.

"Hey, Antonio. You actually believe in God?"

---

"This isn't just creepy. We’ve officially entered 'Bad Omen' territory," Teiro grumbled.

He was staring at the Tactical Screen inside the swaying Armored Vehicle. A cluster of blue dots—the good guys—was on one side. On the other, a massive, arcing band of red dots—the WIND swarm—was maintaining a polite but terrifying distance.

"I don't like it," Marl muttered, her eyes glued to the Infrared scope. "I mean, I'm glad they aren't shooting, but if you’re going to ambush someone, this is the perfect time."

The Armored Unit was nearing the end of their trek toward the Ruins. They had been out of the bulkhead for two hours, and the WIND swarm had stayed with them the entire time, lurking like a group of stalkers who couldn't decide if they wanted an autograph or a blood sacrifice.

"If they want to let us pass, they could at least send a text," Teiro said. "A little 'Have a nice trip' would go a long way."

"Why don't you try calling out to them, Mr. Teiro?" a voice suggested. "It could be excellent practice for when you finally try to talk to a woman in a real city."

"Listen, if women in the city carry giant Beams and shoot at people, I'm staying home. Actually, even if they don't, I'm still staying home."

"Oh? So if a top-tier beauty of the Galactic Empire happened to be lugging around a Personal Beam Launcher, you're telling me you wouldn't offer to help her carry it?"

"............Well, okay, that’s a tricky one."

"Seriously?!" Marl snapped, looking back from her scope. "Could you two focus for five seconds? Honestly... Wait, Teiro, look. The view is changing."

Teiro flicked the monitor over to the external cameras.

"Is that... stone?"

The iron walls and metal floors had vanished, replaced by a massive cave carved from solid rock. The road was wide enough for a Tank, though someone (likely NASA) had reinforced parts of the floor with heavy iron plates.

"Looks like it," Marl said, her voice hushed. "This is massive. Who builds something like this out of stone? Can you imagine the labor?"

"I'm looking right at it, so yeah, I can imagine it," Teiro replied. "I mean, it's weird for space, but stone buildings used to be a thing. Though even in 21st-century Japan, you didn't see much of it outside of old temples or fancy banks."

"What about concrete?" Marl asked. "That’s just stone-flavored glue, right? Is it even strong?"

"I guess? They used to stick steel bars in it to keep it from crumbling. Though the Romans built stuff out of the pure stuff that lasted thousands of years."

"Huh. Impressive. Without anti-corrosion treatment, even high-grade iron would have turned to dust in this atmosphere by now."

"Yeah, well, I don't know the difference between 'old' and 'new' rocks, but—Whoa, check out that arch. We’ve gone full fantasy novel now."

A massive stone arch loomed over the convoy. It looked like a grand entrance to something. Teiro, overcome by curiosity, decided to hop out and take a look.

"If I call you, you get back in here immediately!" Marl yelled, thrusting a communicator into his hand. "The WIND could jump us any second!"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," Teiro said, stepping out into the cave.

"Holy—!" He winced. Inside the vehicle, the engine was a low hum. Out here in the cave, the roar of the Tank engines was deafening. He jogged over to the base of the arch, his ears ringing.

"Definitely stone... Wait, is this marble?"

He kicked at the base of a pillar, scraping away centuries of dust and grime. Beneath the filth, a beautiful, brown-marbled pattern emerged.

"Man, the budget for this place must have been insane... Hm? What’s this?"

His boot hit something metallic. He knelt down and brushed away the sand, revealing a thin metal plate about a meter long. He squinted at it, then flipped it over.

"............"

His heart stopped. Embossed letters stared back at him. With trembling hands, Teiro frantically wiped the rest of the dirt away.

"It’s... it’s English. NASA... Colony... Memorial... Museum..." He translated it into Galactic Standard in his head. "The NASA Colony Memorial Museum? Wait... is this America?"

The thought hit him like a physical blow. If this was a NASA museum, he had to be in America. And if he was in America, then this miserable, radioactive wasteland was Earth. He felt a wave of crushing disappointment.

Earth. This is Earth. I’m back home, and home is a graveyard.

"America... it’s really America. Sigh. Well, better show the others."

He looked up at the ceiling, exhaling a long, weary breath. He looked back down at the plate, tracing the familiar English letters with a bit of homesick nostalgia.

Then, his eyes caught the tiny text at the very bottom.

His eyes went wide. He snapped his head up, then turned and bolted back toward the armored car, waving the plate like a madman.

"IT'S NOT! IT'S NOT EARTH! WE DID IT! WE’RE GOOD!"

He sprinted toward his comrades, his legs nearly tangling in his excitement.

The tiny text at the bottom of the plate read:

—Established in the name of God and the United States upon this land, our glorious First Colony Planet.—