Episode 250

Sorry for the sluggish updates, folks.

I’ve reached the point where I have to start tying up loose ends, and let me tell you, it’s a massive pain. It’s not going to end tomorrow, but the convergence is happening... and I’m honestly terrified that a mountain of contradictions is about to come crashing down on me.

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In the pitch-black void, a single mechanical girl marched forward.

There weren't even emergency lights to guide her. The only visible illumination came from the tiny power LEDs of humming machinery—dim beacons in the gloom.

But for an android like her, a lack of light was a total non-issue. She could amplify a stray photon into a spotlight or just switch to Infrared and radio waves to map out the room.

"Amphibians... hmm. The aesthetics are actually quite charming," Koume muttered.

As one of the non-human executives of Rising Sun, Koume stared intently at a biological specimen, committing it to her records once more. Her Data Bank was already stuffed with enough amphibian imagery to fill a galactic encyclopedia, and there was zero market value in a recording of this specific jar of pickles, but she did it anyway.

"………………"

She tilted her head, replaying the footage in her mind while her processors churned in the silence.

Why did I record that?

That was the real head-scratcher. Amphibians, or things that looked like them, were a dime a dozen across the galaxy. This specific specimen didn't seem to be a load-bearing pillar for Coleman’s grand evil plan or anything of the sort.

And yet, her brain had demanded the data. Lately, her "brain" had been making a lot of weird demands.

"Perhaps I should spend more time on fragment resolution," she mused.

Back in the day, Koume could trace the exact logic path for every single one of her actions. She knew the why and the how of every thought. But lately, her Quantum Brain was becoming such a tangled mess of complexity that tracing a single thought required a literal eternity of processing time.

She’d been trying to stay on top of it by scheduling "spring cleaning" sessions for her database, but the complexity was outgrowing her ability to prune it.

The easy fix was a factory reset. A total wipe. She was ready to pull that trigger if she had to, but for some reason, the pile of "memories" she’d accumulated felt too important to toss in the trash.

"I’ve never heard of an AI that needs to sleep," Koume whispered.

The thought triggered a wave of guilty amusement. She let out a tiny, involuntary giggle, then immediately paused to analyze her own reaction. She concluded it was most likely a "wry smile" or "self-derision."

"Well, it shouldn’t be a problem for now..."

Muttering to herself, she resumed her graceful stroll through the dark. Reaching the door at the end of the hall, she bypassed the lock just as Teiro had done earlier that day. She stepped inside, walked a few paces, then paused as if she’d forgotten a crucial line of dialogue.

"Open Sesame."

Her voice echoed through the silence. She had no idea what it meant, but the sheer satisfaction of saying it put a spring in her step.

She navigated the room like a pro, weaving through the bundles of cables and dodging piles of rubble. She sustained a few scratches on her chassis as she climbed over a mountain of Scrap Metal, eventually tumbling—rather ungracefully—into the wide-open space on the far side.

There it was. Exactly what she’d expected.

"So, you really were here."

Thick cables snaked out from the central pile of debris, all of them plugged into a machine that looked suspiciously like a cryogenic sleep pod. Koume stepped toward it, reaching out a hand, when—

"Don't move. I’d prefer not to shoot."

The voice was low, masculine, and dripping with "stay back" energy. Koume felt something cold and metallic pressed against her spine. She froze.

"Koume would also prefer not to be shot, Mr. Phantom. Especially in that specific spot."

She didn't twitch a muscle. The muzzle of the gun was aimed with terrifying precision at the exact center of the sphere that housed her core.

"I’m not really in the mood for jokes right now. Separate into your sphere, please."

Phantom stood behind her, pulling the gun back just an inch.

"Of course," Koume replied. "But may I ask why?"

"Because you’re terrifying, Miss Koume," Phantom said.

He kept the weapon leveled at her as he slowly circled around to face her.

"You’re an unknown variable. I’m not stupid enough to underestimate you. For all I know, you’ve packed that chassis with high explosives and are just waiting for a reason to go boom."

"I see. However, Mr. Phantom, I have no such intentions. Even if I did, I doubt I could actually take you down. Therefore, I came up with a much better plan."

"I’m all ears. Let's hear it."

"With pleasure. May I eject my core now?"

"Go ahead."

Koume popped her humanoid chest hatch and retrieved the sphere that contained her true self. As the empty body went limp, the ball slid from its hand and rolled across the debris-strewn floor, clunking over bits of scrap.

"Physically destroying you is impossible—at least for me," the sphere said, its lights blinking. "Actually, unless someone gets incredibly lucky, it’s probably impossible for anyone in this galaxy."

The sphere rolled to a stop a safe distance away. Phantom stepped between the ball and the empty chassis, crouching down while keeping his gun trained on her.

"I’m flattered. Even if it sounds like you’re laying the sarcasm on a bit thick."

He jerked his chin, signaling her to keep talking.

"No sarcasm intended. I calculate that your Nanomachines would simply knit your body back together unless I vaporized your brain or vital organs in a single hit. Heat and radiation might work, but stopping you instantly? Unlikely."

The sphere wobbled back and forth.

"So, I went with an indirect approach. It’s a very simple 'dead man's switch.' If the periodic signal emitted by my core is interrupted, the Virgin Queen will immediately open all cargo hatches. Given your physical specs, the vacuum of space won’t kill you instantly, but trekking one kilometer through a void to reach the control room is going to be a real chore. The pressure drops, the temperature swings, the lack of oxygen... it’ll be quite unpleasant."

Silence fell over the room. Phantom, his face a perfect mask of nothingness, narrowed his eyes as he appraised the little ball.

"You probably wouldn’t die," Koume added. "But it’s not a 100% guarantee. There’s a 5% to 10% chance of an irreversible 'oops' moment. And since you’re a very cautious man, you won’t take those odds."

To drive the point home, the sphere did a cheeky little 360-degree spin. Phantom raised an eyebrow, then threw his hands up in a shrug of defeat.

"Alright, you win. Not a bad play... you’re a full android, so the vacuum doesn't hurt you, and it’s not a suicide vest. I assume you’ve already rigged the exit to stay open too? Fine. You got me."

Phantom sighed, lowered his gun, and sat down on the floor.

"Judging by the setup, you knew I was coming?"

"Yes," Koume chirped.

"Why?"

"Because you were acting weird."

Phantom blinked.

"You should have already completed a full risk assessment of Coleman’s Facility, Mr. Phantom, Security Department Director. Even with your 'outside only' restriction, you’re too thorough to have missed anything. If you hadn't, you never would have let the bosses step foot in here. So, your sudden 'oh, let's turn back' act earlier today was highly suspicious. Why now? It was a very un-Phantom-like move."

"I told you during the day. We found something unexpected."

"Incorrect. Well, half-correct. You found something unexpected, but you didn't turn back because it was dangerous. You turned back because you found something you wanted all to yourself."

Phantom scratched the back of his head, looking genuinely embarrassed.

"I can't believe I got read by an AI... I’ll have to update my 'underestimating Koume' file. But if that’s the case, is your goal me? Or this machine?"

He waved his gun toward the cryogenic pod.

"Both, Mr. Phantom. And I suspect the feeling is mutual."

"……………………"

"Position, fame, money, women—you have the skills to drown in all of them, yet you couldn't care less," Koume stated flatly. "There are only three things that get a rise out of you: Earth Antiques, high-quality coffee, and the future of the Outsiders. Since there are no beans or vases here, that leaves the third option."

She went silent. Phantom sat there, his expression so blank it was actually terrifying. Koume made a mental note: Blank faces are scary.

"A technology that can safely Override a BISHOP. For the Outsiders, that is a prize worth more than every credit in the galaxy combined. And that tech is right here. Mr. Teiro is the living proof that it works. You would use literally any means necessary to get your hands on it. That’s the only reason an entity like you is playing security guard for a tiny company like this."

Koume finished her speech and waited.

"I wasn't exactly trying to hide it," Phantom said, finally standing up after a solid three minutes of silence.

"I’m sure Alan and Teiro have figured it out by now. It’s not exactly rocket science if you think about it for five seconds. But that doesn't make it a 'bad' thing. We’re all using each other. Pointing it out doesn't really change the math, does it?"

He slowly, deliberately, leveled his gun at the sphere again.

"You’re mostly right. Especially about the 'any means necessary' part."

Phantom gave a small, self-deprecating laugh and pulled the trigger.

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Writer's Note: I’m currently cheating on this story with a new project.

Updates have slowed down, but I will definitely be back, so please bear with me for a bit.

Check out the new stuff here if you're bored:

http://ncode.syosetu.com/n1483dn/