Chapter 183

I’m so sorry for the delay. Work has been a nightmare... Also, can someone tell me what a "year-end rush" is? Does it ever end?

---

It was a landscape carved by the relentless violence of eons—earth so rugged and jagged that a naked human could barely keep their footing. Winds howled with enough force to scour skin from bone. No matter how far one looked, the scenery never changed; endless sandstorms choked the horizon, blotting out both the sun and any hope of a decent view. The temperature hovered permanently below freezing, the oxygen was pathetically thin, and the radiation levels were high enough to make a Geiger counter scream.

Yet, to Sophia—born, bred, and bottled in the sterile confines of a Space Station—this desolate hellscape was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. Honestly, she had never dreamed that she’d actually set foot on planetary soil before she kicked the bucket.

But here she was, standing on the actual ground of Planet Nuke.

"Is the Great Outdoors really that fascinating, Miss Sophia? To Koume, the view appears to have changed exactly zero percent since three minutes ago."

The voice was mechanical, yet dripping with unmistakable sass. Sophia peeled her eyes away from the window to find a floating sphere hovering at the entrance of the staff breakroom.

"Hello, Koume-san. Well, you’re right, the scenery hasn't changed. It’s still just... a lot of sand."

The breakroom windows were originally designed to offer a panoramic view of the cosmic void. Since the Ladder Base had been cobbled together from repurposed spaceship hulls, the windows had remained—completely useless on a planet where the only thing to see was a beige wall of grit.

"But sometimes the wind shifts," Sophia said, her voice full of wonder. "The sand gets thinner, and it gets brighter, or darker. When you realize that’s all nature moving on its own... it’s just so mysterious."

Sophia walked over and gently scooped the little AI into her arms.

"Mysterious, you say? Matters of sensation and emotion are quite difficult for a logical AI like Koume to process."

The lamps on Koume’s spherical body flickered rhythmically. She gave a little wiggle in Sophia’s arms, tilting her sensors upward as if trying to simulate eye contact.

"Really? I feel like you’d understand better than most AIs, Koume-san..."

"Negative. Koume is no different, Miss Sophia. I am merely an AI that holds logical thought as the ultimate virtue. That said, I believe 'enjoying change' is a highly advanced intellectual activity reserved for higher organisms. If I were to summarize the feeling based on your data, it would be: 'Ah, the impermanence of all worldly things.'"

"The... im-perma-what? Sorry, I didn't quite catch that."

"It is quite alright, Miss Sophia. Koume knows the definition of the phrase, but I am currently using it without any understanding of its cultural weight. Even a 'Now and Young' AI like myself has her limits. The point is: a woman’s heart and the sky of Nuke are equally unstable. Therefore, one must simply enjoy the chaos."

"A-Ahaha..."

Sophia gave a strained laugh and set Koume down on the windowsill table. I knew you understood just fine, she thought about saying, but she bit her tongue. The sphere in front of her might have looked like a toy, but she was a Director of the Alliance—the powerhouse that controlled a third of the Alpha Region Space—and, more importantly, one of Sophia's bosses.

"Have you adjusted to the workload yet, Miss Sophia? I imagine it is a far cry from the scrap-heaps of the Wyoming Star System."

Koume kept her lamps pointed at the window. Sophia sat in a nearby chair, once again wondering: Is she really just an AI? This is the tenth time today I've questioned her humanity.

"Yes, I think I’m holding my own without causing too much trouble. The tools and equipment here are state-of-the-art, so there’s a lot to memorize. But I’m always with Rammy, and having a Daycare right here is a literal lifesaver."

"That is most excellent news. However, Koume feels a pang of pity that you must worry about a Daycare at your age. Though I suppose that 'young mother' aesthetic might appeal to humans with... very specific, questionable tastes."

"My brothers are NOT my children!"

"HAHAHA. I am aware, Miss Sophia. Now, shall we pivot to the actual reason for this meeting?"

Koume spun 360 degrees and locked her sensors onto Sophia.

"Koume has managed thousands of employees alongside Mr. Teiro and Miss Marl, but this is a first. To be blunt, I am at a loss. Miss Sophia, why on earth did you ask to return your wages?"

The sphere tilted to the side, mimicking human confusion perfectly.

"Why? Because it’s way too much! I can't possibly take that much money. It’s insane."

Sophia’s head spun just thinking about the number on her last paystub. Her first month’s salary as an official employee of Rising Sun was more than she’d earned in six months working for the Foreman back in Wyoming.

"While an ordinary CEO would weep tears of joy at a worker refusing pay, Koume cannot condone this. A worker has a strict obligation to receive appropriate compensation for their labor."

"An... obligation?"

"Correct. You are a member of the Salvage Department managed by Miss Marl. As a team leader, you oversee four staff members. You bear the responsibility of leadership; therefore, you are obligated to accept the commensurate reward. This is not a right, Miss Sophia. It is a duty."

Koume spun again, facing the door.

"Selling your labor for cheap is a cardinal sin. It creates a market rot that harms everyone. Workers demand more, management offers less, and through that friction, the 'fair price' of a human life—I mean, labor—is born. As a member of the working class, you must respect the gears of capitalism. Labor that is too cheap is just as dangerous as labor that is too expensive."

With a sudden CLANG, Koume hopped off the table and hit the floor. Sophia winced at the sound of metal on metal, worried the AI had dented herself, but Koume just started rolling toward the door as if nothing had happened.

"Therefore, Miss Sophia, I must decline your refusal. You will accept the wages mandated by RS Law and company policy. If the money burns a hole in your pocket, find a way to use it that satisfies your conscience. Save it, donate it, bury it in the sand—I do not care. Just remember: preparing for the future is the only way to survive the present."

"I... I see. Okay. I’ll try to think of something."

"Good. That is settled then. Koume shall take her leave. There is absolutely nothing to do in this wasteland, so please, try to enjoy the rest of your vacation."

"Oh, thank you very much... Wait. Vacation? This is a vacation?"

"......Yes. For the same reasons I mentioned, you are obligated to exhaust your paid leave. We are considering a cash-buyback program for unused days, but that’s a headache for future-Koume. You are being paid to sit here. Do not panic."

"I’m getting paid... to rest? I really don't get this company."

"Fufu. As an AI, I do not require rest, so Koume finds the concept equally baffling. However, it is Mr. Teiro’s policy."

"Teiro-san’s? Well, if he says so, there must be a genius reason behind it... But is it really okay for me to be lounging around?"

Sophia glanced out the window. Koume stopped rolling and pivoted back.

"Miss Sophia, as I said, the leave is mandatory because—"

"I mean, it’s about to get terrifyingly busy, isn't it?"

Sophia had accidentally cut the AI off. She immediately curled into a ball of social anxiety. "I-I'm sorry!"

"No, that is fine... but Koume is curious. Why do you assume we are about to become busy?"

Koume tilted her lens toward Sophia.

"Well... because of that."

Sophia pointed a timid finger toward the glass.

"The outside is literally covered in scrap metal, isn't it? I saw it on that TV drama. There were so many WIND units they practically formed a new crust on the planet, and then Teiro-san beat them all."

Koume’s swaying body went completely rigid.

"If we have to collect all of that, it’s going to be a monumental task. I can’t even begin to calculate the tonnage... but I’m pretty sure even if everyone from the Wyoming system showed up to help, we’d still be understaffed, right?"

"......"

"......Koume-san?"

"............Miss Sophia."

"Yes?"

Koume slowly rotated to look up at her.

"It appears you definitely need to figure out how to spend that money. In fact, start thinking big. Knowing Mr. Teiro, he is about to dump a bonus on your head that would make a king blush. Forget a donation; you’re going to need to start your own foundation."

Koume’s lamps began flashing like a strobe light as she started spinning in manic circles. Sophia just watched her, tilting her head in confusion. What on earth is she talking about?

---

"—And that, in a nutshell, is the blueprint for the Planet Nuke Relief Project. Are there any questions?"

A heavy, oppressive silence filled the RS Alliance Assembly hall in the Roma Star System. Taro stood at a podium surrounded by a massive ring of seats. Nearly three hundred representatives from the most powerful corporations in the Alliance were in attendance—or rather, their holograms were. Most were beamed in from distant systems, with only a few dozen actually physically present.

"Representative, if I may."

A man stood up. He was the President of a major infrastructure firm from the Former Enzio Alliance, one of the bigger fish in the RS pond.

"The floor is yours. Don't hold back," Taro replied with his best "trust me, I’m a businessman" smile.

The man cleared his throat and adjusted his suit. "Caring for the weak and protecting our brothers-in-arms is all well and good. It’s a noble sentiment for the Alliance, and I don't oppose it on principle."

He paused for dramatic effect. "However—"

"I don't see why it has to be done this way. Even if we spend the same budget, there are dozens of projects that would be more efficient and yield higher returns. My company handles infrastructure, so I’ll be blunt: there are fifty thousand space stations out there that don't even have functional life support. Why aren't we fixing them first?"

A wave of murmurs rippled through the hall. Some were genuine agreement; others were just greedy vultures hoping to steer the budget toward their own sectors.

"I hear you. I really do," Taro said, his voice ringing with absolute certainty. "But Rising Sun is convinced that the development of Nuke is the most efficient, most profitable venture we can undertake."

The crowd looked at him like he had grown a second head.

"We don't have all the data on Nuke," another younger entrepreneur shouted, "but the public files say that planet is a graveyard! There’s nothing left to develop. Is Rising Sun hiding something?"

"Raise your hand before you speak, please," Taro chided, then smiled. "I can’t reveal everything—and honestly, I don't have to. But for this specific project, I’m not even using new intel. To be honest, I feel like an idiot for not realizing it sooner."

"You’re saying the answer is in the public files?"

"Yep. We’re sure of it."

"Nonsense," the man scoffed. "I hired a team of planetary development experts to crunch the Nuke data. Their conclusion? It’s a hunk of irradiated rock with zero value. I suspect everyone else in this room got the same report."

The tone was turning provocative. Taro felt a vein throb in his temple, but he kept his cool. There was always one guy like this. Before Taro could retort, the man doubled down.

"Look, we trust Rising Sun. You’re the top of the Alliance. You’re the one who found the developable asteroids via the new Stargates. We assume Nuke has some hidden treasure, even if we can't see it. But it’s been ages since we made contact with... excuse me, with NASA. Now, suddenly, this dead rock is a gold mine? It’s a bit hard to swallow."

The room started to buzz with suspicion. Taro raised his hands to settle the noise.

"What exactly are you getting at?" he asked point-blank.

The man cleared his throat again. "Representative, we don't mind developing Nuke. But we are the ones providing the capital. We find it unacceptable for one specific company—or its favorites—to hog all the profit."

"Ah... so that’s it. You think Rising Sun is gatekeeping info to play favorites?"

"I wouldn't use those words exactly, but... well, yes. That is exactly what I'm saying."

Taro sighed, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small shard of metal. He started fiddling with it.

"RS Law applies to Rising Sun, too. How I spend my own cash is my business, but Alliance funds are handled by the book. Article 2 of the Equality Provisions, right? No private use of joint capital. I know the rules."

Taro looked up and held the metal shard high so the cameras could catch the light glinting off its surface.

"The answer has been in the public records since the war ended. Can you all see this? This is the primary resource we’ll be extracting from Planet Nuke."

Every eye in the hall—and every high-res sensor—locked onto Taro’s hand. Men leaned forward in their seats, even though they were looking at a digital projection.

"Main components: Iron, Titanium, and Tungsten. Plus a dash of Aluminum. If you want a commercial comparison, it’s almost identical to Johnny & Virgin’s TFT524 armor plating. Since it’s already processed, it’s a bit specialized, but it’s perfect for hull reinforcement."

"So... there's a massive mineral vein?" someone asked breathlessly.

"Nope. You don't have to mine it. You just pick it up."

"Representative, that makes no—"

"It’s salvage," Taro interrupted, his voice dropping an octave. "It’s the scrap from the WIND units that were glassed on the surface."

Total silence.

"The sand will bury them eventually, but right now? You can just dig them up. The sand actually helps preserve the metal. Most of it is just sitting on the surface, waiting for a hand to grab it. If you’re using it for armor, it barely needs re-processing. And the best part? The WIND units were mass-produced to a unified standard. Every piece is the exact same shape. It’s the most convenient resource in the history of the galaxy."

Taro’s voice was the only sound in the cavernous hall. The silence stretched, thick and heavy, until the skeptical President finally raised a trembling hand.

"Just... how much of it is there?" he asked, his bravado replaced by sheer awe.

"Who knows? Honestly, it’s beyond our current measurement capacity. But the official war reports weren't lying—the WIND units covered the entire planet like a second skin. Tens of billions of tons? Maybe more."

"......You’re talking about recycling the WIND... using their own bodies against them? That’s... that’s completely backwards. That’s what they do to us."

"So? Why should they have all the fun?" Taro shrugged. "Is that not allowed?"

No one said a word. Because in a room full of capitalists, no one was going to argue with billions of tons of free money.