Episode 197: The Antiquated Ball

"This is CAT1, beginning approach."

The voice of Gon, one of the Kato Tribe, crackled through the Plum’s bridge. Taro stared at the radar screen, watching four points of light drift away from the Plum. He glared at the destination marker, which was currently helpfully labeled as [IDENTIFICATION UNKNOWN].

"Plum here, roger that," Marl said, her voice tight with tension as she adjusted her headset. "But watch your tails. We still haven't nailed down the exact distance."

Like Taro, Marl was geared up with an intercom, looking every bit the stressed-out operator. They knew the structure Etta’s radar had snagged was definitely there, but its exact shape and distance remained a total mystery. As for what it actually was? Not a clue.

[WIDE-AREA SCAN... COMPLETE. CELESTIAL BODY: STANDARD ROCKY PLANET]

[DETAILED SCAN... COMPLETE. CELESTIAL BODY: SMALL ASTEROID]

The scan results from the Plum flickered across Taro’s BISHOP interface. He let out a long, weary sigh. "Same crap as before, huh?"

"Celestial camouflage and stealth tech," he muttered. "Is there even a point to going this hard in the middle of nowhere?"

They were way off the usual EAP flight paths. Even if the place was blasting high-intensity beacons like a disco ball, Taro doubted anyone would notice. Koume pivoted her head toward him, her expression as unreadable as ever.

"In point of fact, we have encountered it, and we are currently quite confused, Mr. Teiro," she said in her usual "I’m-smarter-than-you" tone.

"Fair point," Taro grunted with a wry smile.

He tweaked the orientation of the secondary beam turrets, aligning them with the fresh coordinate data sent from the Cats' patrol ships. If the target was stationary, he didn't need a perfect range—he just had to aim for the center and blast away.

"This is CAT3. We’ve got a visual... It’s smaller than I thought," Cha’s voice chirped over the comms. "About half the size of the Katsushika."

A video feed flickered to life. Taro grabbed the noisy, static-filled data and ran it through his parallel processing, scrubbing it until the image was crystal clear.

"...It’s a ball," Taro said.

"...It’s a very round ball," Marl added.

The screen showed a spherical structure painted entirely in matte black. Taro spotted several small, boxy units floating around the perimeter—likely the stealth projectors. They were positioned perfectly to exploit the linked radiation effects of drive particles.

"Plum to CAT2. Taiki-san, any luck with the hailing frequencies?"

"CAT2 here. If anyone was home, they’d have started screaming for their mamas by now," Taiki barked.

"Roger. No response at this range usually means they're hostile. Stay sharp."

"Hey, who do you think you’re talking to? We’re the Bombing Squadron! At this dist— Wait! Watch out! It’s moving!"

Taiki’s sharp yell sent the comms channel into a frenzy. The Cats began shouting over one another, calling out cover patterns as they banked hard. Taro leaned in close to the monitor, squinting at the feed as it bucked and rolled with the patrol ships' evasive maneuvers.

"Alan, prep the secondary guns. If things look hairy, you're clear to fire at will. Marl, tell the fleet to go to maximum alert and scatter! Koume, handle the jamming and shield control!"

Taro snapped out orders with practiced ease. Confirmations flooded back as everyone jumped to their posts.

"Looks like a docking gate, but it’s tiny... Is it a WIND structure?"

A section of the sphere slid open like double doors, spilling a sliver of light into the void.

"Something's coming out! Permission to blow it up yet?!" Yuki shouted, sounding frantic.

Taro reached for the fire-control permissions, bumping the threat level up a notch. Self-defense mode engaged.

"Wait, it has windows... It’s not a WIND. All hands, do NOT fire first! Wait for them to make a move!"

The fleet was already training its massive guns on the structure, but Taro held them back. He watched the camera feed, eyes wide, as a small vessel emerged. It was tiny—smaller than a frigate, looking more like a standard commuter shuttle.

"Wait... is that a Susboat?" Marl muttered, rubbing her chin.

"Is that some kind of famous brand?" Taro asked, his eyes glued to the screen.

"I mean, if you take Engineering 101, you have to study it. It’s the SUS4-type. It was the first ship to use a modular design for all its parts—revolutionary stuff. It’s the great-grandfather of every modern spaceship... but..."

Marl frowned, her eyebrows knitting together.

"I’ve never seen a real one actually moving. It’s a thousand-year-old antique. It belongs in a museum, not out here in the black."

On most large vessels, certain areas are kept strictly independent—self-contained bubbles with their own air, food, medicine, and even light weaponry. It’s a safety thing for when the rest of the ship goes to hell. Usually, this means the escape pods or the bridge.

But sometimes, you keep a room isolated for the opposite reason: to keep the rest of the ship safe from whatever’s inside it. The Gate Cargo module was exactly that—a glorified airlock disconnected from the main systems to ensure that if a salvage haul turned out to be radioactive, toxic, or explosive, the whole ship wouldn't go up in smoke.

"You can come in, Teiro. He's unarmed."

Alan’s voice rumbled from the other side of the heavy bulkhead. Taro let out a breath and manually tripped the lock.

"He doesn't seem like a bad guy, right? Is all this security really necessary?"

Taro tried to scratch his neck, only to remember he was encased in a suit of high-tech metal. The biggest flaw of an Armed Suit, he thought bitterly, is that you can’t scratch an itch.

"Don't be an idiot," Alan said, looking utterly done with the world as he stepped through the opening. "Phantom isn't here. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn't even let you in the same room as this guy."

"Easy now," Taro said, reaching out to give Alan a friendly pat on the shoulder. Alan dodged the hand with the grace of a caffeinated ninja.

"Hey! I hope your power boost is off. If you hit me in that suit while I’m just wearing skin, I’ll die. Like, 'splat' die."

"......Of course it's off. Totally. Anyway, let's go. Our guest is waiting."

"I’m going to ignore that suspicious silence of yours for now," Alan sighed. "Just listen while we walk."

They headed toward the Gate Cargo area.

"The target's name is Santol. No family name. He’s about seventy years old. Seems healthy enough, but here’s the kicker: he’s carrying infectious pathogens. We’re going to have to bleach the entire cargo bay once he leaves."

"Pathogens? Like, a biohazard? I am not dying in a space-plague, Alan."

"Koume says the fatality rate is basically zero, but it’s creepy. Apparently, it causes 'fever' and 'spontaneous coughing.' We'll probably all catch it if we're not careful, though the old man seems fine."

"......Wait. Have you 'future people' seriously never had a common cold?"

"A cold? You mean an epidemic influenza? Our personal systems usually delete those before we even notice. Is that what happens if you let them run wild? Coughing?"

Man, the future is weird, Taro thought. Humans haven't changed that much, but their tech has turned them into biological snowflakes. "Anyway, what about the kids?"

Alan patted the back of Taro’s suit. "Miss Eileen is hovering over them. They’re fine. They probably don’t even realize what’s happening... which is for the best."

They passed through the final bulkhead and reached the Gate Cargo. Through the observation window, Taro saw the "Susboat." It looked like a hunk of junk—battered, weary, and held together by prayers and patches.

"It’s got a certain... rustic charm," Alan said, pointing at the ship. "I wouldn't set foot on it, obviously. The station it came from has a population of 4,226. That stealth jamming gear they’re using? Apparently provided by an 'outside source.' They’ve got six fixed guns for defense against the WIND, but the tech level is all over the place."

Taro nodded. An ancient rust-bucket paired with stealth tech that could fool the Plum’s sensors? It was a weird mix.

"Well, they don't look like they’re going to try and board us, at least."

Taro stopped at the door to the cargo bay. He toggled the transparent mode on his suit’s faceplate, revealing his face to the world, and looked at Alan.

"Alright, let's go meet the human trafficker. If I lose my temper and start swinging, try to stop me."

Taro slid the door open and marched in. Alan watched the back of the armored suit for a second and whispered, "How exactly am I supposed to do that?"