Chapter 80

After leaving the park and walking for a bit, Taro and the gang were ushered into a High-speed Vehicle. They glided toward parts unknown in a silence so thick you could cut it with a vibro-blade. Taro, noting that no one had actually forbidden him from using his terminal, checked their current location. He let out a yelp of surprise when he realized the car was currently phased through a section of the station that was supposed to be solid vacuum.

"We’ve got our ways," the man said, pressing an index finger to his lips. "All sorts of little tricks. I’d appreciate it if you kept this between us."

Taro could only manage a strained, awkward chuckle. "Yeah, sure. Mum’s the word."

Eventually, the linear-drive vehicle began to decelerate as they reached their destination. The group hopped out and followed the two siblings in silence until they reached a small, unassuming room.

"It doesn’t officially exist on the station’s schematics, but this is 'home.' Make yourselves comfortable. Consider this a gesture of trust."

It looked like a standard reception room. Sofas and tables were lined up with military precision, accompanied by a few pieces of minimalist furniture. To the untrained eye, it was just a boring office—but Alan and the others looked like they’d just stepped into an alien museum.

"So this is what they call 'barrier-free'?" Alan muttered, staring at the entrance. "What was that word again... door... right, a doorknob."

Alan poked at the doorknob with the intensity of a scientist discovering a new species. Taro watched him for a second, wondering if his friend had finally lost his mind, before the realization hit him.

Oh, right. Manual doors. I guess those are a bit of a relic out here.

"Now that you mention it, seeing a door you actually have to grab and twist is pretty rare," Taro noted. "Actually, I think this is the first one I’ve seen in the Empire."

Standard doors were all handled by BISHOP. At most, you’d find a handle on a manual sliding door, but even those were few and far between.

"It’s a first for me, too," Alan said. "I’ve seen them in historical archives, but... is this the kind of thing that’s common 'over there'?"

"Well, they don't have BISHOP 'over there,' so yeah. Anyway, what are you doing?"

While chatting with Taro, Alan was frantically tapping away at his terminal. He glanced at the man and threw out a blunt question. "Mind if I scan the place?"

"If you're looking for bugs or explosives, be my guest," the man replied smoothly. "Hmph. You’ve clearly had military training. You’re far too efficient at that."

Alan met the man’s gaze with a stony silence. The man shrugged. "I guess I’m not winning any popularity contests today."

"Ah, well, we’ve had a long day," Taro interjected, trying to smooth things over. "Anyway, you probably already know, but let’s do introductions again. I’m Teiro Ichijo, representative of Rising Sun. And you’re... Phantom, right?"

The man gave a curt nod and gestured toward the sofa. As Taro sat down, Alan and the others moved to stand behind him like a wall of grim-faced bodyguards.

"That’s right. Phantom. I can’t prove it’s my real name since I don't technically have a family register, but that’s what everyone calls me. It’s as good a name as any."

His voice was calm, steady, and utterly relaxed. Alan spoke up again. "Can I ask one thing?"

"Go ahead."

"Seven years ago. Adela system, Adela Station 5. You spoke to an enemy soldier there. Do you remember what you said?"

Phantom tilted his head, looking thoughtful. After a moment of silence, he spoke.

"Was it... 'What on earth are you people doing here?' It was a long time ago. I don't recall the exact wording."

He looked genuinely unsure. Alan closed his eyes and nodded slowly, seemingly satisfied.

"Actually, it was: 'What on earth do you want to achieve, coming all the way out to a place like this?' Teiro, he’s the real deal. I had my doubts, but there’s no mistaking it now."

Phantom’s eyebrows shot up. "Wait. You were one of the ones from back then?"

"Yeah," Alan replied shortly.

"I see..." Phantom sighed. "That was a tragedy for everyone involved. I don't intend to apologize for it, but I don't expect an apology from you either. Can we leave it at that?"

Alan hesitated for a long moment before nodding firmly.

"Yeah. Let’s do that. It’s better this way. Sorry for the interruption. Please, continue."

Alan stepped back and lapsed into silence. Taro took a deep breath, straightened his posture, and looked Phantom in the eye.

"Right. So, uh, where to start? Basically, it’s about the offer I sent you. What do you think? See any potential in it?"

Taro was basically winging it at this point. Phantom watched him for a beat, then let out a soft huff.

"Teaching and commanding at a military academy, hm? It’s an amusing pitch. But I have to ask: even if I were inclined to cooperate, why should I do it for you? Not to sound arrogant, but I could walk into Gigantech Corp tomorrow and they’d make me a military advisor on the spot."

There it was. The giant, elephant-sized hole in Taro’s plan. Taro froze, his brain momentarily short-circuiting.

"Ugh, yeah... you hit the nail on the head. That is the problem... Uh, what do you think I should do?"

The entire room—Phantom included—stared at Taro with a collective look of Are you actually serious right now? Taro didn't blink. He just shrugged and leaned back.

"I mean, honestly, I thought about it. But you’re the kind of guy who picks a fight with the Galactic Empire and wins. There’s no point in me trying to out-negotiate you. I could beg, but that seems tacky. At the end of the day, I figured it was best just to ask what you wanted."

Taro looked at him expectantly, as if this was the most logical thing in the world. While Alan and the others looked like they wanted to crawl into a hole and die of embarrassment, Phantom actually let out a dry chuckle.

"You’re an interesting one. I’ll give you that. It’s a bizarre way of thinking... but not entirely unwelcome."

Phantom nodded to himself, seemingly amused by Taro’s sheer lack of guile. "I’ll get us some drinks," he said, snapping his fingers.

A moment later, Leila emerged from a back door carrying a tray. She began pouring a fragrant, dark liquid into their cups.

"...Wait, is this coffee?" Taro blurted out, his nose twitching. "Seriously? This stuff still exists?"

The nostalgic scent hit him like a freight train. Phantom gave him a sharp, calculating look, while Alan and the rest just looked confused.

"You're quite the scholar," Phantom noted. "This isn't exactly a common beverage."

Crap, I might have sounded too excited. Taro ignored the probing gaze and took a sip. The bitter, complex aroma filled his mouth. It was heaven.

"Mmm... this is Mocha, isn't it? It tastes like a blend, though. Is the other half... Mandheling?"

Taro tossed the question out like a lure. Phantom’s expression shifted into a predatory, challenging grin.

"You're right about the Mocha. As for Mandheling... it’s called Madery these ages. Hmph. I see. You’re hiding some very interesting secrets, aren't you? 'Mandheling' is an ancient name. So old that practically no one alive should know it."

Taro felt a bead of sweat roll down his neck. He’d messed up. He tried to laugh it off with a fake, corporate grin. "Oh, I don't have any secrets! But if you're that curious, you could always come work for us and find out?"

"Heh. Appealing to my intellectual curiosity is a step in the right direction, but it's not quite enough to close the deal... Tell me, do you know what this is?"

Phantom reached behind his back and pulled something out. When Taro saw it, his heart nearly leaped out of his throat.

"Wait, wait, wait! No! I'm sorry! Whatever I said, I take it back! Don't shoot!"

Taro threw his hands up and tried to merge with the sofa. Alan and the others jumped, looking utterly baffled by his over-the-top reaction.

"...My apologies. It isn't loaded," Phantom said, though his eyes were gleaming. "But that confirms it. You—"

He tucked the hunk of iron back into his waistband.

"—have some connection to Earth. I’m trying to narrow down the possibilities... Are you an archaeology fanatic? Or maybe an Iceman? There’s a chance you’re from the same place as Leila, but the fact that you don't speak the language is a sticking point."

Taro’s jaw hit the floor. He’d been in the Galactic Empire for a while now, but this was the first time he’d ever heard anyone else say the word "Earth."

"Wait... how... what?"

Taro was stammering like a broken record. Phantom pointed toward the small of his back.

"Hardly anyone looks at this and immediately recognizes it as a weapon. Even Alan here—forgive me for the familiarity—didn't react. This design has been obsolete for centuries. A gunpowder-based, kinetic projectile weapon. A literal antique."

The hunk of iron—a Revolver—was something Taro hadn't seen a single trace of in the Empire until this moment.

"The Empire occasionally turns up some staggeringly old relics. This one is a replica, but the originals exist. There’s a niche group of collectors in the galaxy who hunt for things that pre-date even the Early Imperial Era. Though 'niche' is an understatement; there are very few of them."

Phantom gestured toward the door. "That doorknob is another one."

"But based on your reaction, you're not a collector. Which leaves 'Iceman.' Just how far back did you come from? Most Icemen from the older eras are logged on the Imperial checklists... but I don't recognize you. Did you only wake up recently?"

Phantom’s deductions were hitting him like a series of rapid-fire jabs. Taro threw his hands up in the air, closed his eyes, and sighed.

"Fine! I give up! You win!"