Episode 41

Author’s Note: Regarding Chapter 40—I accidentally set a draft intended for storage to auto-post, which is why it was such an awkward length. But hey, it ended on a decent cliffhanger, so I’m just going to leave it be.

Alpha Star System, Alpha Station. Despite being labeled a "research station," it wasn’t just a sterile cluster of labs. It was a sprawling mess of Living Quarters and commercial districts built for the researchers' families. The main difference between this place and a normal residential hub was the casual availability of experimental hardware that would be illegal anywhere else. We’re talking toxic gas, lethal radiation, particle accelerators—the kind of stuff that could cause a localized apocalypse if someone tripped over a power cord. Naturally, all of it was perfectly legal here.

The station’s management committee practically threw themselves at Taro’s crew, sobbing and clutching at them as if they were the Second Coming. They were hailed as heroes, saviors, and probably the best thing since sliced bread. Taro didn't exactly mind the ego stroke, but he couldn't help but feel that the people who actually sat through the siege were the real badasses.

Apparently, the locals had spent the entire ordeal revving up prototype engines to create heat signatures, firing research Beams at the intruders, and weaponizing literally everything in the station to keep from being eaten. If they’d stayed at the original beacon coordinates, that WIND factory would have slurped them up like a noodle, Taro thought. He wasn't sure if the WIND actually "ate" people, but he was fairly certain the outcome wouldn't have involved a complimentary gift basket.

"Dr. Alzimov’s research facility is this way. Your escort has arrived," a representative of the committee said, gesturing toward one of the countless doors lining the gate.

A man in a sharp suit stood there, watching them with an unblinking intensity. When he caught Taro’s eye, he gave a bow that was far more dignified than his cluttered surroundings suggested.

The Alpha Star System boasted a history that reached back across the 6,000-year lifespan of the Galactic Empire. Most of the Empire’s early history and messy origins had been lost to the various "upheavals" of the era, but bits and pieces of data survived on physical storage media—the kind of ancient chips and disks that most modern people only saw in museums.

"Dr. Alzimov must be allergic to cleaning," Marl whispered.

Taro and the crew navigated a corridor where mountains of physical media threatened to bury them. It was a literal obstacle course of ancient data.

"My sincerest apologies, Miss Marl," said the man, who had introduced himself as the doctor’s assistant, Daniil. "We simply don’t have enough storage space for our materials. It results in... this."

The members of the TRB Union—a name cobbled together from the initials of the three leaders—finally reached a reception room where they could actually breathe. The room was aggressively minimalist: two modest sofas, a table, and a massive, clunky, old-model screen mounted on the wall.

Five minutes later, Dr. Alzimov shuffled in with a standard-issue "Sorry for the wait" greeting.

"It’s a bit of a dump for a hero’s welcome, but forgive me," the doctor said. "Color and decor aren't exactly high priorities on a research station."

Dr. Alzimov looked like he hadn't slept since the Empire's founding. He had a face etched with the exhaustion of someone who had been under siege for way too long. Taro stood up and offered a handshake.

"Total honor to meet you, Doc. I guess we can skip the 'who's who' bit, yeah?"

Taro glanced back at Bella. She gave him a small nod. She’d been in constant comm-link contact with her grandfather since they docked.

"Mhm, mhm. I’ve heard the gist from my granddaughter," Alzimov said, sounding a little too excited for a man on the brink of collapse. "Something about you being interested in the origins of humanity?"

"That’s the one," Taro said, taking a seat. "Do you know a planet called Earth?"

"Earth? Can’t say I’ve heard the name," the doctor replied. "But I assume that’s the planet you're claiming is the cradle of humanity? Unless you’re just taking the scenic route to explain your mission."

"No, that’s exactly it, Doctor. That’s where I was born and raised. It’s where humanity started."

Taro laid out his story while the doctor listened in silence, puffing on a cigar he’d lit with a casual "do you mind?" gesture. Alzimov’s face was a mask of skepticism, clearly suspecting some elaborate prank, but then Koume presented Taro’s DNA Information.

The doctor’s face turned white.

"This is... bizarre. Completely unbelievable," Alzimov muttered. "I’ve dealt with countless lunatics claiming to be from the 'homeworld,' but you’re the first ones to show me data this fascinating. Yes, yes... incredibly interesting."

The doctor asked to take a copy of the data. Taro gave the okay, provided the doctor didn't go plastering it all over the galactic network.

"So, Doctor, I’m 100% certain that the Human Single-Planet Origin Theory is the real deal. But as a practical matter, do you have any idea where it actually is?"

"Hmm. That is the ten-million-Credit question, Mr. Teiro. I’ll be honest: my research hasn't progressed far enough to pinpoint a single rock in the void."

"Nothing? No leads? Not even a general 'turn left at the nebula' direction?"

The doctor’s brow furrowed. "Of course I know that much," he snapped, hitting a button. A map of the galaxy flared to life on the old screen.

"DNA Information. Historical literature. Geographical factors. We can track the migration patterns of early humans through various data points. The roughly accurate historical territory of the early Empire is this area here."

A section about one-tenth the size of the current Empire turned red.

"And based on circumstantial evidence," the doctor continued, "it narrows down to this."

The red area shrank to a tenth of its previous size.

"You can take this as a near-certainty. Even the most stubborn scholars in the galaxy wouldn't argue with me up to this point. The problem is what comes next."

The red spot on the map shrank again, becoming a tiny dot.

"This is what I claim to be the Empire’s absolute earliest sphere of influence. The mainstream academics say multiple civilizations just happened to bump into each other and decided to form an Empire. Personally, I think that’s a load of steaming garbage. Politics is the real culprit here."

"Politics?" Taro asked.

"Exactly, Mr. Teiro. The Galactic Empire is home to multiple species, and they all have their own agendas. We humans make up about seventy percent of the population, but the other species have far more 'ethnic pride.' It’s one of the reasons I’m out here in the middle of nowhere."

"Wait, back up. Other species? You mean the people with the wings and the horns?" Taro thought back to the people he’d seen at the gates and in the trading stalls.

The doctor chuckled. "You have a... unique way of putting things. But I’d avoid saying that to their faces if you value your health. The common terms are Horn and Wing."

"Right. Noted. I’ll keep the 'horns and wings' comments to myself," Taro promised.

"They believe they are entirely separate from humanity," the doctor continued, his tone turning serious. "Their holy scriptures say they came from different stars entirely. My research, however, proves that their bibles are wrong. I’m essentially calling their gods liars."

Taro’s gears started turning. So that’s why this guy is hiding out in a junk-filled station.

"I get it. Your Human Single-Planet Origin Theory... it includes them too, doesn't it?"

The doctor beamed as if Taro had just won a prize.

"Precisely, Mr. Teiro! There are massive DNA differences, obviously. We’re different enough that crossbreeding is effectively impossible. But I am convinced we all share the same ancestor. Needless to say, I’m not very popular at their dinner parties."

Taro gave a weak laugh. "I bet. Sounds like you’re dealing with some top-tier harassment. You said that was 'one' of the reasons you were out here. What’s the other? This?" He gestured to the map.

"Correct," the doctor said. "The cradle of humanity should be somewhere in the sector beyond Alpha Station, at the very edge of the galaxy. It’s only logical to research near the source. As for the harassment... it’s a bit more than just 'mean comments.' Why don't you check the public mission list?"

Confused, Taro pulled up the network’s bounty list and searched for the name "Alzimov."

"...Wow. Dr. Isaac Alzimov. Assassination contract: 10,000,000 Credits. That is... really not funny."

The bounty had several organizations listed as "investors." Taro didn't recognize the names, but he could take a wild guess that they were Horn and Wing extremist groups.

"It’s a massive headache," the doctor sighed, looking irritable. "I’m forced to rely on a handful of trusted colleagues and my grandchildren’s muscle just to stay alive. My funding is drying up because my investors keep getting threatened. It’s a mess."

"That’s messed up," Taro agreed. He didn't care about the politics or the specifics of the genetics, but he knew a raw deal when he saw one.

Taro spent the next two hours grilling the doctor about Earth. He didn't walk away with a set of GPS coordinates, but he was more than satisfied. The doctor was absolutely certain his theory was right, and the funding issue was about to disappear. Taro, representing the TRB Union, formally proposed a massive financial sponsorship for the doctor’s research. It passed.

Liza had been hesitant at first—she didn't really care about Earth—but Taro pointed out that Dr. Alzimov was a legend in the Alpha Star System. Having him on the payroll was a massive trade advantage. She eventually caved. Even though the combined votes of Rising Sun and Guns and Rule meant Taro could do whatever he wanted, he preferred to keep things unanimous when possible.

"Well, that’s one small step toward Earth," Marl said as they walked back through the corridors of the Plum II.

"Tell me about it," Taro agreed. "And Marl? You were right about starting the company. There’s no way we could have funded the Doc just as freelance pilots."

"I told you so," Marl said with a smug grin. "We’ll need to talk to him again tomorrow about that WIND factory. It’s Union business now, so it’s going to dictate our whole roadmap."

"Yeah. He said he wanted to use the ship for some field tests, too. I bet he’s got some crazy ideas lined up."

Taro walked down the inorganic hallway, feeling more optimistic than he had in weeks. It was a long road. It might take years. But they had finally taken that first step.

It was a small step, sure. But it was the first real step he’d taken in a long, long time.