Episode 172

Much like the cluster of underground bunkers that had miraculously survived the nuclear fire raining from the sky, the Museum had long ago lost its intended purpose. Yet, even including its golden age as a functional institution, it had likely never left such a traumatizingly intense impression on its visitors as it did today.

“………………”

The four of them stood there in a stunned, heavy silence. They remained like statues for a long while until finally, Marl shook her head as if trying to rattle her brain back into gear.

“……There’s too much to process. I don’t even know where to start. Honestly, this isn't the kind of thing we can even begin to debate in a place like this.”

Wearing a pained expression, Marl reached out and took the Ancient Plates from Teiro’s hands. She pulled out a mobile terminal and began gingerly photographing them one by one.

“Koume concurs. This is a matter requiring exhaustive scrutiny, and it is certainly not a topic for a group of people currently backed into a corner. In Koume’s humble opinion, we require a proper symposium involving Dr. Arjimov, our foremost expert on the ancient era.”

Koume finished her declaration with a stiff, formal bow. Teiro offered a distracted “True that,” before throwing his arms wide and spinning around to take in the room.

“Look, there’s a chance we’re never coming back here. Let’s just photograph every single thing from floor to ceiling. And we’re definitely taking whatever we can carry. If it’s too big to shove onto the Tank, take extra pictures of it.”

Teiro looked around for approval, and a chorus of agreement rose from the surrounding employees.

For the next twenty-four hours, the small army of corporate employees threw themselves into a frantic data-harvesting mission. For the most part, they recorded video and dictated quick notes, but for the massive replicas that were impossible to haul away, they actually began disassembling them to photograph the internal components. Marl personally supervised every teardown, ensuring that everything was meticulously reconstructed and returned to its original spot afterward. They intended to seal this sector tight, just in case they ever found a reason to return to this madness.

“President, what about this one? Should we bag it as a sample?”

An employee approached with a face as serious as a funeral, holding up a 5,000-year-old Electric Kokeshi. Teiro gave him a firm thumbs-up.

“Totally,” Teiro said, before reverently accepting the device that had likely provided comfort to someone in a bygone age. “We should display this in the front window of the Katsushika Headquarters as a prayer for our company to last five thousand years, too. Right by the main entrance… Hehe. Yes. Let it be the symbol of our corporate philosophy.”

“Absolutely not,” Marl snapped. “I don't care if it’s our flagship product, we have plenty of other business divisions now! Besides, I refuse—absolutely refuse—to stand there and give a straight-faced explanation of our ‘philosophy’ to a client while they're staring at that.”

“……Hmm. A total babe giving a lecture on a lewd artifact. My imagination is really running wild here. That’s pretty spicy.”

“Shut up!! If you want it done so badly, do it yourself!!”

“No way. Who’d even want to see that? Tey-low is, like, so confused.”

“Ugh, another one? Where do you keep finding these annoying ways of talking…?”

Eventually, they reached the limit of what they could physically cram into their vehicles. The team rotated through short sleep shifts, huddled together as they waited for word from the rescue party.

“……Hey, Teiro. You asleep?”

Marl, lounging in the passenger seat of the Armored Vehicle, spoke in a hushed tone. It was cramped, but with the seat kicked back, it was cozy enough. Koume was currently outside acting as the taskmaster for the employees, leaving the two of them alone in the cabin.

“Nah, still awake. What’s up?”

Teiro shifted his weight in the driver’s seat, staring at the dash.

“Nothing specific. I just can’t sleep…… Hey. What do you really think about that diary?”

Marl rolled onto her side to face him, her voice a mere whisper. Teiro mirrored her movement, letting out a low hum of thought.

“You’re going wide with the questions tonight, huh? Well, for one, it’s definitely not the kind of stuff you just leak to the public. That much is for damn sure.”

“Yeah, I figured. The content is so wild that most people wouldn’t believe it anyway, but there will always be those who do. It would cause total chaos…… The religious world alone would probably self-destruct.”

“I mean, it basically says a real-deal God is kicking around somewhere. I smell a new religion coming on. Maybe a cult?”

“It’s a possibility……” Marl let out a tiny, melodic laugh. “Maybe you should just become the cult leader? You could probably make a killing.”

Teiro looked at Marl’s refined features illuminated by the dim dashboard lights. Suddenly, his chest felt tight, a strange ache blooming behind his ribs.

“No thanks. Hard pass. I want to stay as far away from that scene as possible. Those religious types are terrifyingly serious, for better or worse.”

Teiro rolled over to hide his sudden palpitations, staring up at the low, metallic ceiling of the Armored Vehicle.

“Even Dr. Arjimov had hits put out on him just for publishing a hypothesis about it,” Marl mused. She turned her gaze upward as well, and they lapsed into silence. The faint sounds of the camp reached them—the clanking of metal as Alan worked to fortify their defensive perimeter even further.

“……Hey, Teiro.”

Marl’s voice was heavy now, hesitant. Teiro turned his head toward her; she was already looking at him.

“You said…… that the missing fleet was mentioned on those plates. Do you think…… you were actually part of that fleet?”

Her expression was dead serious. Teiro held her gaze for a moment before looking away.

“Who knows?” he replied bluntly. “The ghost ship I was on got scrapped ages ago, and I dumped the bodies into a star. Looking back, maybe I should’ve kept some souvenirs…… though I doubt I would’ve understood what I was looking at anyway.”

Teiro laced his fingers behind his head and propped his feet up on the steering wheel.

“And honestly,” he continued, picturing the text of the Stone Tablet in his mind, “I’m still not even sure if those ancient people really came from Earth. I mean, the American flags and the NASA Logo were identical, but does that automatically mean they’re from the same Earth? I’ve got my doubts.”

“I suppose…… Eden, was it? What could it even be? A satellite? A Space Station?”

“Your guess is as good as mine. Maybe one of the Antiques we’re hauling back has a clue…… But hey, let’s drop it. We need to sleep. WIND could jump us any second, and thinking about this won't give us any answers.”

Teiro pulled a towel over his eyes like a makeshift mask and let out a long, weary sigh. Marl murmured a soft “You’re right,” and after a few minutes of restless tossing and turning, she finally drifted off into a light sleep.

I wonder who the hell I actually am.

The thought went unspoken, a quiet vibration in the air.

Teiro didn't get a wink of sleep for the rest of the night.

“Morning, President. I’m here to take you home. Philip, Security Department Special Task Section.”

The man standing there was a towering wall of muscle with a bright, friendly grin. Teiro rubbed his bleary eyes with the back of his hand and gave a non-committal “Hnh.”

“Special Task Section? So you’re one of Phantom’s guys. How’d you get in here? What about the bulkheads?”

The man simply pointed a finger toward the ceiling.

“From above? Seriously? What about WIND?”

“Nowhere to be found. Well, to be precise, they might be lurking, but we didn’t see a soul. I’m just the scout; the Reinforcement Unit should be dropping in about fifteen minutes. We’re sealing the junctions as we go, so we can hold them off if they try to crash the party.”

“Whoa, for real? Nice work…… Ah, crap! We gotta move!”

Because they didn't want extra weight during a potential firefight, a massive pile of artifacts had been left sitting on the ground. Teiro began barking orders to the staff to load everything up, rolling up his sleeves to help.

“Allow me. I’m not quite on the Captain’s level, but I’ve got plenty of torque to spare,” Philip offered.

With the cyborg’s help, the loading was finished in under an hour. A cyborg’s raw power was worth more than a dozen pieces of heavy machinery; while an excavator was limited to digging or lifting, a humanoid machine like Philip could adapt to any task on the fly.

“Alright, listen up, people! Make sure you didn't leave your toothbrushes behind! The trip isn't over until we’re back at the Base!”

Teiro popped his head out of the top hatch of the Armored Vehicle and shouted to the crowd. A wave of laughter rippled through the employees, followed by chirps of, “If this is a school trip, I want a refund!” and “We appreciate the sentiment, but you’re the youngest one here, President!”

The reinforcements from the surface had arrived, and the convoy was ready to roll.

“Teiro, we’re all set on this end. Detonation in one hour!”

A sweat-drenched Alan shouted as he ran past, leaping onto his Tank. Teiro nodded and glanced back at the entrance to the Museum’s basement. They were sealing the elevator shaft just to be safe, and the area was already bristling with Directional Explosives.

Well, we did the math a thousand times. Should be fine.

Teiro muttered the thought to himself and gave the order to move out. The roar of engines filled the tunnel as the long line of vehicles began to crawl toward the exit.

“That was one hell of a camping trip. But hey, it was kind of fun, right?” Teiro mused, reclining in his usual spot in the back seat.

“Are you insane?” Marl grumbled, brushing dust off her sleeve. “Look at me. I’m covered in sweat and sand. It’s disgusting. I am never doing this again. Next time, you’re on your own.”

“Koume must also respectfully decline a second excursion, Mr. Teiro. Fine particulates have infiltrated my joints and actuators. The sensation is deeply unpleasant.”

“Ehhh?! Don’t be like that! I’ll die of loneliness!”

The three of them bickered and joked as they wound through the dark tunnels of enemy territory. It was a coping mechanism for the crushing tension of a potential WIND ambush, but the attack never came. They reached the surface without a scratch.

“I feel like an idiot for being so worried. There’s nothing out here,” someone muttered in exasperation as the convoy reached the open air. They didn't lower their guard, however, pushing the engines to the limit as they raced back toward the Ladder Base. After all the nightmare scenarios they’d imagined while trapped behind those bulkheads, the fact that they hadn't seen a single combat encounter felt like a bizarre anti-climax.

That eerie peace held all the way until they reached the gates of the Ladder Base.

Nobody noticed the periscope-like object poking out of the dirt, watching them go.