Chapter 254: Survival Report

Survival Report: Look, I’m sorry. I’m busy enough to die, but I’m still breathing.

The massive Battleship Plum had more than enough living space to go around.

However, since the ship relied on the BISHOP—a brainwave-based remote steering system—as its primary control method, it required an absurdly small number of personnel compared to your average old-school vessel.

In fact, the ship was specifically tuned for a three-person skeleton crew: Taro, who possessed the Multitasking (Parallel Processing) Gift; Koume, a super-high-performance AI; and Marl, the greatest mechanic in the galaxy (at least in Taro’s somewhat biased opinion). In terms of "low-manpower operations," they were in a league of their own.

Naturally, this meant the ship had an obscene amount of spare room.

It takes a surprising amount of space to keep a single human being alive and comfortable. When you consider that the several thousand crew members who would normally be aboard a standard Battleship were entirely absent, you end up with a lot of empty real estate.

The Battleship Plum diverted most of that surplus space and energy into combat functions—think thicker armor plating, bigger turrets, and enough ammunition to level a moon—but even then, there was still far too much room left over. The members of Rising Sun, who treated the ship as their personal home, used that space however they damn well pleased.

"Industrial Module? Wait, isn't this Phantom-san’s room?"

Taro paused in the hallway, tilting his head at the data his BISHOP interface had just pulled from the module block in front of him. [MODULE TYPE: INDUSTRIAL]. Normally, these areas were Residential Modules or, at the very least, Composite Modules.

"It’s the right place. And it's not that weird," Marl said, shrugging. "My room is based on an Industrial Module too, you know?"

"Okay, I get it for you, Marl. You’re a machine-tinkering nut. You probably wanted to be able to perform ship maintenance without getting out of bed."

"Well, yeah. The Bridge and the Factory Block are a hike... Hey, are you sure I can't move my room closer to the Bridge?"

"Like hell I’m putting a dangerous module next to the command center. I’ll think about it if you can swear on your life that you won’t perform any 'unstable experiments' in your quarters."

"Then never mind."

"Wow, zero hesitation. Seriously, what kind of person lives in a room classified as a 'hazard'? Where’s your sense of maidenly decorum?"

"Shut up. It’s a badge of honor," Marl muttered, brushing her red hair out of her eyes with a practiced, cool expression. "Besides, 'maidenly' isn't really my brand."

Taro sighed, baffled by her logic. He decided to let it go for now and simply raised an eyebrow.

"Phantom-san! We’re here to visit! ...Oh, it's unlocked."

The Locking Function display read [OPEN]. For a split second, the word careless crossed Taro’s mind, but then he remembered that there were no strangers aboard the Plum. Given that the resident in question was Phantom, "dangerous" was a relative term.

"Is it cool if we just barge in? What if he’s watching some lewd holo-clips?"

"He’s not you or Alan, Taro."

"Hey! You don't know that! Besides, guys like us are the normal ones! We are the literal lynchpin of human survival!"

"Yes, yes. Good boy. You’re the 'Hope of Humanity,' we get it."

"Damn it! That’s so patronizing! ...But I kind of love it!"

Writhed in a brief fit of humiliating pleasure, Taro stepped through the sliding door into Phantom’s private quarters.

"Oh, it's just like the room back in Katsushika. He must have moved the whole thing over."

The cozy room was exactly as Taro remembered—filled with a hodgepodge of Antique furniture that radiated a warmth Taro found incredibly nostalgic.

"It’s my first time actually coming inside," Marl whispered, stepping in tentatively. "Whoa, look at this. Is that leather? Real leather?"

She hovered over a brown leather sofa—worn and aged, but impeccably clean—as if she were examining an exhibit in a Museum. When Taro told her it was the real deal, she scrambled back a few steps.

"How much does something like that cost? Surely it isn't from Earth, right?"

"Not a chance. Leather wouldn't last five thousand years."

"I figured... but still, it's a massive luxury. I could probably afford it, but I’d be too terrified to actually sit on it. Especially for everyday use."

"I think if cows were sold as meat instead of being kept as pets, leather would be a lot cheaper," Taro mused.

"True. But that’s years—maybe decades—away."

"Probably. We’ll have to figure out the leather-processing tech before then... Phantom-san? You in the back?"

Unlike Marl, who was treating the floor like a minefield, Taro stomped through the living space. He checked a few rooms that looked like living quarters, but they were empty. He kept pushing further in.

"Why can't I see his location on BISHOP? This module is huge," Marl said, poking at a Coffee Mill that was definitely an Earth-original antique. Taro glanced back, smiling when he noticed a hand-crafted wooden base with a little drawer had been added to the mill.

"The guy's a fast worker... Oh, right. I think his BISHOP setup is customized. It’s not tuned like ours."

"Oh, I see. Maybe I’ll see if I can make them compatible later."

"Yeah, it’s kind of a pain for us right now. If something goes wrong, we wouldn't even know where to start looking... but he should definitely be here."

They couldn't see his exact coordinates, but Taro knew he was home. He’d checked with Phantom before they’d even left their own quarters.

"Well, if he’s not in the front, he’s gotta be here. This looks... intense."

Taro stopped at the very end of the internal hallway, staring dubiously at a final, unopened door. It was a heavy, rugged slab of metal that looked more like a spaceship’s airlock than a bedroom door.

"Wow. That’s basically a bulkhead," Marl said, catching up. "How do you even open this? Is it purely mechanical? BISHOP isn't responding."

"It’s just a manual handle," Taro said with a sigh. He gripped the lever, put his weight into it, and heaved the door open.

"...Whoa. Okay, wasn't expecting this."

Beyond the steel door lay a cavernous room packed with rows of machinery.

The sight reminded Taro of the Plum’s cryostasis chamber, but this place was much cleaner and better organized. The equipment looked relatively new, and the floor was clear of the usual mess of cables—they were likely tucked away beneath the floorboards.

"Is this a Cooling Room for a Parallel Computer? What on earth is he doing with all this processing power?" Marl asked, rubbing her arms against the sudden chill in the air. Taro shrugged and huddled his shoulders as they walked toward the back. At the far end, an open doorway led to another room.

"What about this... Uh, I don't know. I think I saw something like this at Makina Corp. What are these?"

The narrow back room was lined with tall, boxy devices that towered over Taro, forming a narrow aisle down the center.

"These are printers," Marl said, leaning around the back of one to inspect the wiring. "Though they’ve been heavily modified. I’m not sure they’re being used for their original purpose."

"Is he printing flyers or something?" Taro asked. Marl tilted her head in confusion.

"Flyers? You mean the paper advertisements? What does a printer have to do with those?"

"What do you mean 'what'? You print the ads on the paper. To sell stuff. ...Wait, do you guys even have paper? I saw 'flyers' listed as an expense in the ad budget once."

"Of course we have flyers. You upload the data to an Advertising Chip. ...Hold on, did they actually hand out physical paper on Earth? That’s such a waste of resources. Wouldn't people just find it annoying?"

"Well, they’d shove them in your mailbox, mostly. And we recycled them! Do you have any idea how much masterpiece art was created on the back of blank flyers?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Also, sending things directly to someone's house? That's terrifying. Did corporations back then have that much control over personal data?"

"Eh? Oh, uh... no, it's not like that. They didn't target specific people. They just blasted them out to everyone indiscriminately, hoping someone would bite."

"That is shockingly inefficient. What a waste... Also, just to be clear, when I say 'printer,' I don’t mean ink. These are for printing electronic circuit boards."

"Oh. Well, that makes more sense... and also makes me even more confused about what he’s doing. This is way too much gear for a hobby."

"Really? I have something similar in my module," Marl noted.

"Marl, you are the exception, not the rule."

Shivering, the two pushed deeper into the room. Phantom was nowhere to be seen, and the massive machines blocked their line of sight, making it hard to see if there was another exit.

"Did we miss him? But he said he was bedridden. It’s not like he’s out for a jog. Maybe there’s a hidden door?"

Taro sat down on the spiral stairs that wrapped around a large cylindrical device at the very back of the room. Marl sat on the opposite side of the stairs and shot him a look. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Besides, why would he hide? He's not like you, Taro. He doesn't do things just for a laugh."

"Hey, what kind of person do you think I am? I’m offended."

"You know exactly what kind of person you are. If Etta came over to visit, you’d absolutely hide just to mess with her."

"I mean... yeah. I've done that."

"Stop doing that! ...Anyway, let's go back. I’d rather wait in the living room. It’s freezing in here."

Marl stood up, rubbing her arms. Taro had no reason to stay in the cold, so he stood up as well.

"Hello, Teiro. Hello, Marl. Thank you for coming."

The voice was right next to them. Taro jumped, spinning around, but there was no one there. The cylindrical device looked like nothing more than a giant, unadorned metal tub. When Taro peered inside, all he saw was his own reflection in the polished metal. Marl looked just as confused on the other side.

"I had my sensory organs closed. My apologies for the delay."

The voice definitely came from the device. Then, the flat surface of the metal lid began to ripple. Taro recoiled in horror, his face twisting as the impossible unfolded before his eyes.

From the perfectly flat metal lid, a human eye, a mouth, and an ear began to bulge outward, sprouting from the steel like a grotesque, living relief sculpture.

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Author's Note: When I sat down to write for the first time in a while, I found myself thinking, "Wait... was this novel always like this?" I feel like I used to be much more concise.