Interlude: Andersen
Andersen sat on a black sofa inside his personal quarters, his white shirt unbuttoned, revealing a physique that would put most fresh academy graduates to shame. His work table is meticulously organized, with a half-empty cup of coffee on it. Behind him sat an unknown machine connected to his left stomach through a black cable. It lets out a beeping sound once in a while, though it looks like he isn't bothered by it in the slightest.
Instead, his focus remained on the holographic report in his hands, its stark white light reflecting in his weary blue eyes. A slow sigh escaped him as he skimmed through the document, something that he wouldn't have been aware of had Ingrid not notified him last night.
"Damn it, Sam," he muttered, covering his eyes with his fingers. A wry smirk appears on his lips. "Why did you have to be involved with her?"
It's a report about Sam's Mandatory Mission parameter. More accurately, Syuen's latest attempt was to put a relatively unknown commander under her command. She has been getting bolder recently, having pressured five now-missing commanders to do a mission for her on the surface this quarter alone. The number might not seem large, but it represents the confirmed cases the informant linked to her. It's a disturbing trend, but it's nothing that new if Andersen were to compare it to the usual Missilis shady practice.
After all, a CEO represents the company's value.
If it wasn't for her interest in Sam, which luckily resulted in a rather noticeable heavy-handed approach, he might not have been able to connect enough evidence to link each case to Syuen. It wasn't every day that a CEO went to the Outpost right at dawn, after all.
His holopad suddenly announced a notification with a ringing tone. His brow furrowed as he pressed it.
It is a research paper sent to him by an anonymous source from Missilis's whistleblower, detailing an experiment on the subject's memory through repeated mindwipes. He notes how important her notebook is and how easily it can be manipulated, resulting in a minor NIMPH reaction. The more he reads it, the more he notices the parallel between N102's experience and Sam's own amnesiac beginning. However, the former is easily more cruel, in his personal opinion.
"So that's why…" He mutters, staring at the murky blue eyes of subject N102. "I think I need to call in a favor." He stated that his fingers were already hovering above the contact Blabla account of a Nikke that belonged to the Central Office of Strategic Services.
Sam's POV
Unlike the Black Smith, Storm Bringer is one of the rarer Tyrant-class Rapture types to encounter on the surface. In the past, one of them appeared when a large transport aircraft made by the Ark was doing a flight test. It only left when it had utterly annihilated said large transport aircraft, which heavily discouraged the Ark from trying to research that tech tree. Not that the Ark learned that lesson without a few more appearances during said tests, several nameless victims, and tons of wasted resources.
It is also the only type of Rapture that can detach and reattach their body parts freely, controlling them even when they are not connected to their body. That ability, however, is tied to a specific machinery. Located above SB's core is an electro-atmospheric controller device (mostly known as the part that controls its electricity and magnetic properties) that Snow White's shot broke through. So, to make sure Storm Bringer survives, we (Anis, Rapi, and I) need to repair that part.
But merely fixing it is not enough. Since SB's core is disconnected from Rapture's network (or something akin to that), it is not under their control anymore. I have the unprecedented opportunity to usurp that connection to myself. A reverse corruption (Or is it purification? Or perhaps an absolution?), in essence.
Of course, it is not as easy as I might have implied. I need to turn the electro-atmospheric controller device into something that can supply its basketball-sized core with enough power to stabilize its function while also acting as its sub-core, effectively collaring it. This is a safety measure I have to implement, even if some part of me finds it detestable. After all, I must be able to bind its loyalty to me even when I'm not using [Technomancy].
Stepping into [Strategy Trance] in mid-motion, I search inside my mindscape for any blueprints and related knowledge that could fit my desired goal. Upon finding the blueprint of a Supreme Mystic Code supplemented by magical mercury from [Item Construction EX, a bold idea comes to my mind. I will turn the electro-atmospheric controller into a technological golem magical reactor, similar to the Trimmau, but using Rapture parts as the base instead of mercury and the core as the energy source instead of fairy parts. It is just too bad that I would need a whole afternoon and ten more helpers to implement all beneficial features in the planned device. I have to be content with inserting minimal features focused on its main uses.
After contemplating all the steps I have to take, I step out of the trance. I continue to maintain the effect of [To Do Today] by singing. Tools in my hand shifted their form to suit whatever we currently needed in the process. Once, it even turned into a bastardized Magic Gauntlet from [Alchemy] for me to wear, allowing me to perform more advanced [Alchemy] to synthesize needed materials faster and easier. Other times, it changed into a magic-powered saw for Anis to cut a stubborn cable that couldn't be plugged out.
Thanks to [To Do Today]'s influence, anyone I recognize as allies can use [World's Maker] tools. However, that leniency seems only available if I [To Do Today] was triggered.
My fingers glided over the complex machinery with the precision of an experienced mystic code maker, each motion guided by the foundation of my other self-reinforced through countless repetitions. A faint light shines beneath my palms as electricity is slowly generated from the newly altered shell, which at first is fueled with my blood bullet. Each electrical pulse was transformed into purple magical energy through a newly crafted galvanism converter.
Anis and Rapi assisted me heartfully during the whole process. Their bodies acted as an extension of my will. And I do mean it literally in this case. It is as if I hijacked their bodies and directed them to help me modify that device into a Magical Energy Reactor modeled after a golem's core. [To Do Today] violently disagrees with my train of thought, reminding me that for them to count as helpers, they must be acting of their own free will to help me. There's no oppressive pressure. No forced subservience. Just pure trust. And a fiat-backed effect of what is approximately telepathy focused on a singular goal of making stuff.
Sometimes, I wonder what kind of entity I had made an agreement with for me to have all of this power for the low prices of trauma-induced amnesia.
Anyway, aside from turning it into a functional shell/sub-core, I have to make sure that any magical enhancement I did remains hidden and black-boxed. It's because there's a risk of exposing magi to Missilis when they take apart SB for study. That means it does not need an obvious telltale of its magical origin.
Instead, I rely on engineering, drawing from [Change the World]'s and [Seed of the Singularity]'s knowledge, [Item Construction EX]'s experience, [Technomancy]'s crafting magic, covering it with multiple thin blessed and enhanced covers using [Inner Lining]'s principle, and synthesized products made using [Alchemy] and [Compounding Alchemy]. To further disguise its true nature, I imbue the Magical Energy Reactor—now disguised as its core-shell—with a series of curses from [World Maker, condemning any scientists who examine it to dismiss any sign of magic.
Thanks to Anis and Rapi, who joined in despite my warning, I managed to integrate more features than I had hoped. This includes a permanent portal half the size of my thumb inside the sub-core that leads directly to my room. I specifically made it so only specific radio waves can go through it. It makes me able to monitor the sub-core remotely, just in case.
Finally, the shell sub-core is completed. I look at the orb-like case as big as five adult heads glowing with purple light proudly. It takes seven more minutes than Silver Watch had predicted to complete this item, which is still within the expected timeframe. The ethereal tools we use slowly return to pure magical energy before vanishing from the visible spectrum, indicating [World Maker] returning to its dormant state.
I inserted SB's core into the shell/sub-core, re-establishing their connection. With my Aura sight, I watched as the purple energy provided by the sub-core stabilized the red core. This was indicated by the core's red light getting a shade darker while also pulsing steadily instead of frantically. With the shell and the core now being one, the purple light slowly grew dimmer as it retreated back into the shell,donedoing its job.
A sigh escaped my mouth, my shoulders loosening their tension. Now I don't have to worry about it dying on the way back to the Ark.
Suddenly, a hand landed on my left shoulder. Turning my head, I see a pair of yellow eyes staring at mine, "Was that [To Do Today] at work, Commander Sam?" Anis waggled her eyebrow. A cheeky grin adorned her face. "Because if so, that was one of the weirdest experiences I ever had. It felt like we had been working for weeks in that short time," she added, wiping a nonexistent sweat from her brow with her left hand while retracting the hand on my shoulder and using it as a fake fan.
Pivoting my body, I look at her and Rapi, noticing their shortbreath and theirdrained faces. "It was," I said, a flicker of warmth stirring inside my chest. Lowering my head slightly, I give them a bow,"On that note, thank you for trusting me, Anis,Rapi.I didn't expect [To do Today] to form a pseudo-telepathic network."
It should be obvious in hindsight, as it makes anyone involved know what to do at the correct time despite not having any knowledge about it. Said network has been dissolved, but I still feel a shadow of comfort from their links.
A gentle tone responded. "It's alright, Commander Sam." I raise my head, only to see Rapi shaking her head with a faint curve on her lips. "Please don't make it sound worse than it actually was."
"I agree. We could get out of its effect anytime we wanted to, so it's not like assisting you cost us anything noteworthy." Anis chimed in, shrugging her shoulders.
"Besides, I get more perplexed by your song than the mental network. I think you could be a decent songwriter at Tetra Line, Commander Sam." She added, this time as if a fire was burning inside her eyes. "Even if your vocalization was amateurish at best, it kinda has this upbeat vibes, you know?" She gestured with her hands.
"I'll take that as a compliment," I said, letting out a short chuckle.
With an all too amused smirk, she replies. "You should, Commander."
Focusing more on the immediate matter, Rapi addresses our situation. "What should we do next, Commander? Should we contact Syuen right now?"
I shake my head in response. "I want to check on the Wardress first. Hopefully, their condition is better than I feared."
"Understood, Commander." Replied Rapi, "Then Anis and I will deploy as many decoys as needed to secure the perimeter." She added, asking for permission as my second in command. Meanwhile, Anis is just gazing at Rapi exasperatedly.
The tips of my mouth twitched, feeling the weight in my heart getting lighter. "Please be careful, and also thank you. I know that I can always rely on both of you."
With a playful salute by Anis and a much more formal one by Rapi, they move to safeguard this location.
Glancing again at the core gleaming in a shade of crimson, I smiled. After the self-repair sub-core function had done its job, the purified (name's pending) Storm Bringer should be operational enough to fool Syuen, thus Missilis by proxy. If they are foolish enough to connect the Core directly to their computer, I can have remote access to the facility where it will be held.
I look at Neon plus the Wardress's squad in front of me with a growing concern. Mihara is still lying on a stretcher made of an old hastily repurposed bed sheet. Meanwhile, Yuni and Neon sit beside her, radiating with a tense atmosphere. Neon is uncharacteristically subdued, whispering words of comfort to Yuni. Looking at the somber pink-haired Nikke's gloomy aura, I can assume that Mihara hasn't woken up yet.
Before I can ask Neon for a situation update, Yuni lifts her head, as if only now registering my footsteps.
It was a sight that caught my breath in my throat, not in a good way at all. Her violet eyes, normally shining cheerfully with a hint of mischief, are brimming with unshed tears. They shimmer in the dim afternoon sunlight, betraying the emotion she tries so hard to contain. Her lips parted, but it was as if her voice was drowned in sadness. Instead, she drops her head again, as though the weight of her own thoughts is too much to bear.
"...I'm sorry, Commander."
The words barely escaped her mouth, weak and brittle, as if a tiny flick could shatter her completely.
"It wasn't your fault, Yuni," Neon immediately jumps in, shifting closer to place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "You did everything you could. Not even Mentor expected Chatterbox to be able to locate both of you."
Despite Neon's words, Yuni remains still. The soft tremor in her fingers is the only indication she hears Neon at all.
"I was useless back then." She continued, ignoring Neon's reasoning.
My hand clenched before I even realized it. The sight of Yuni blaming herself left a sour taste in my mouth, turning my good mood upside-down. Especially because I also contribute to her guilt, by not being someone with a better head on their shoulder. I should have come up with a better plan, or at least realized that my enemy would have more hidden trump cards up to their sleeves to be that assured of their victory.
After all, [Strategy Trance] is only as useful as how much data I can gather and interpolate.
I breathe steadily before speaking, keeping my voice calm and firm. "You're wrong, Yuni."
Stepping forward, I lower myself to one knee so she can't avoid me. My hand reaches out, fingers brushing against the damp trail of tears on her cheek, gently wiping them away. Shestillrefuses to meet my gaze, but I don't back down.
"You were crucial in suppressing Chatterbox. Without you, I would've been outplayed early on. Thank you for your hard work."
And that's the truth. Without Yuni's power to take away its vision, leading Chatterbox into traps would have been significantly harder. I don't even want to imagine what kind of schemes it could have pulled off if we hadn't disoriented it with the Wardress power at work.
Even so, she doesn't react. Her gaze remains downcast, as if unwilling to acknowledge my words.
Refusing to let this go, Neon's grip on Yuni's shoulder shakes, trying to snap her out of her sorrow. "Listen to Mentor, Yuni! You have done everything you could've! Stop beating yourself up over this!"
Yuni's breath hitches, a tremor runs through her hand where she clutches Mihara's. Her eyes flicker toward Mihara's still form, and her lips press into a thin line. "But Mihara… she—"
"She's still alive, isn't she?" I interrupted in a smaller yet also kinder voice. She's still breathing because of you. You didn't fail her, Yuni. By asking for our help, you saved her," I assured her.
Yuni finally lifted her head, and tearful eyes greeted me. But there was something else behind it, a glimmering silver of hope. Our words finally broke through her defense, reaching the depth of her worry. Her trembling hands, which had been clinging to Mihara's like a lifeline, slowly began to relax.
A few minutes pass in silence, with us sittingnext toeach other watching over Mihara's sleeping face. It is a fragile moment, one that is needed for Yuni to finally pull herself together.
Naturally, such fragile silence is easily broken.
The notification sound coming from Mihara's phone out of the blue causes me to stare at the offending device rather intensely. But before I could reach it to shut it off, a sudden groan threw my thoughts out the window. The vibration has fused her consciousness back together.
Seriously, it makes me want to step into [Strategy Ttrance]. What is the chance of someone, most likely Syuen considering what we have been doing since yesterday, sending multiple messages and calls just after things had calmed down? On a side note, I held myself back from stepping into it since I feel assessing Mihara's condition right now is more important than responding to Syuen's call.
"Uhh…" Another groan escapes from the laid-down masochistic Nikke.
Yuni sat frozen, her purple eyes opened wide. With a barely audible voice, she whispers, "Mihara?"
A moment of tense silence stretches betweenall ofus, where only the sound of winds occupies. Hoping that my hunch is correct, I watch her eyelids patiently.
Then, Mihara's eyes snap open. Bright violet irises dartaroundin confusion, flickering between Yuni, Neon, and me before finally settling on Yuni's trembling face. Her pupils dilate in panic, her breath hitchingas thoughshe's been ripped from a nightmare.
"...Yuni? What happened?" Her voice is hoarse, cracked with exhaustion.
Yuni lets out a choked sob, her fingers gripping Mihara's hand so tightly it's as if she's afraid letting go will make her disappear. "Mihara!" She cries out. "You're okay!"
Without wasting any second, Yuni jumps into Mihara's arms, crying inside the latter's reflexive embrace. The black-haired Nikke winces slightly from the noise, but she still tries her best to pat her other half-head. Besides them, Neon exhales as tension leaves her body, confident that her job is done.
Ignoring the notification sound coming from the still-vibrating phone, I slowly sit beside them. "Welcome back Mihara." I began, "How are you? Are you still hurt somewhere?"
Mihara's posture shifted slightly, looking at me with a weak lopsided smile. "I don't think so, Commander." She said while shaking her head. "But what happened? Last I remember, we were winning against Chatterbox. Then…" She trailed off, looking at our surroundings. Her face changes as she seems to come to a realization. "...We lost to Chatterbox, didn't we?"
An image of a certain silver-haired Heretic flashed in my head unprompted, causing me to grimace. "...More like it escaped," I said, letting out a sigh. "We could've captured Chatterbox if the other hadn't come to rescue it."
"Huh… that's surprising," Mihara said, shaking her head. Her hand reached inside her oversized white coat, rummaging for something. "But I don't think Syuen will be satisfied with just that. We still failed to capture it in the end." She pulled out her phone, and the screen flashed exactly what I had expected: several unopened messages and missed calls from Syuen.
"Don't worry about it, Mihara." With a confident smile, I extend my hand. "Let me handle it. I think I can convince Syuen to drop any charges if it comes to that."
Mihara studies me for a moment before nodding to herself. "...Fair enough, Commander. Yuni and I trust you." She said, handing me her vibrating phone.
"Thank you for that," I say, pushing myself to my feet. "I'll prove to both of you that I earned it." With that, I step away from them, putting several meters between us. The last thing they need is to hear Syuen's inevitable tantrum.
Once I'm certain the noise won't disturb them, I swipe to accept the call, bracing myself for whatever rant Syuen is about to rain down on me.
A voice slithers through its speaker like an angry rattlesnake. "Finally! How long do you intend to make me wait, Mihara?! It has been 5 five minutes!"
Withoutevenflinching, I answer, "Hello to you too, Syuen. It's a nice day we're having, am I right?"
There's a sharp inhale on the other end. "Y-you?!" She sounds like she just swallowed her own spit. "A-ahem. Sam Sam, what are you doing with my squad's phone?!"
Leaning back on one of the leftover rubble, I answer, "Right now? Answering your call in Mihara's stead. She's not exactly in the best condition to deal with you after what happened during our fight with Chatterbox earlier today."
"WHAT?! You fought Chatterbox?! Explain that to me!" I can hear the underlying disbelief mixed with fascination in her tone. "W-wait, you only went to the surface yesterday, right?!"
I bite back the urge to comment on her goldfish-like memory. Engaging in a petty banter with her wouldn't help my situation right now.
"Yep. We managed to damage it pretty badly, but Chatterbox teleported away with the help of a Heretic before we could secure it." I explained slowly.
"Hold on, Heretic?! Teleport!? What the Actual Fuck!" Her voice rises into a screech, her frustration growing by the second. "Haaahh… You know what, you better write a report for it when you return back to the Ark." Sounding so done with the world, she let out a sigh. "I take it, you failed my task, then?"
"Define failure, because if your task was to capture a Tyrant-class Rapture,thenwe captured one." I give a carefully composed response, projecting the air of an aloof commander. This should be enough to fluster her, thus improving my leverage should negotiation happen.
"...YOU SHOULD'VE STARTED WITH THAT, BASTARD!" A loud crash echoes through the speaker, followed by what sounds like a fist slamming onto a desk and a string of colorful curses. I hold the phone slightly away from my ear, letting her tantrum play out. It seems that my ruse worked a little too well.
Seconds pass with nothing but her ragged breathing coming through the connection. Then, with a voice still raw from screaming, she continues, "You're telling me you have defeated Chatterbox, but it escaped with the help of a freaking Heretic?! And instead of coming back empty-handed, you just happened to pass by another Tyrant-class Rapture, so you captured it instead?"
"Well, the Tyrant-class Rapture happens to be a Storm Bringer. And it was called by the Heretic as a diversion, so she and Chatterbox could get away," I explained calmly.
Once again, I distanced Mihara's phone away from my ear, just in time for it to release a howl of frustration courtesy of Missilis's CEO. After sheis done withthat, she addresses me with a hoarse voice, "...We will talk more about this when you return. For now, give me your coordinates. I will send three transport aircraft alongside my Matis squad to extract you."
"Understood. Coordinates sent. Awaiting extraction." I responded methodically. "Thank you for that, Syuen. " For the first time, I said that to her with actual sincerity behind my intent.
Unfazedby it, she replies, "Don't get the wrong idea, Sam Sam! It's not like I can leave a golden opportunity like this up to chance!"
A while later, the connection is terminated. Lowering the phone, I stare at the blank screenfor a momentbefore exhaling my stress away. Bringing my hand to cover my face, I close my eyes.
Talking with Syuen is always mentally draining. Butat leastfor now, I've secured our tickets back to the Ark.
Through my heightened senses, I see three transport aircraft approach first before hearing the sound of their rotors. Their silhouettes appeared against the clouded afternoon sky. Each unitis spreadinga distant rhythmic thrum that grows louder and higher each passing second.
Stretching her arms above her head, Anis remarks, "Finally, I thought they would never arrive!"
"Mentor did mention earlier that they might have shown up late because of how sudden their dispatch order was, Anis." Reminded Neon, free from being Yuni's impromptu counselor now that Mihara had woken up.
Despite the approaching transport, my instinct suddenly roused up. Trusting it, I reinspect our surroundings to get to the bottom of be honest,even with the decoys deployed by Anis and Rapi earlier, I think it is ridiculous that we were able to avoid Rapture's attention up to this rate of rapture encounters rises the longer we stay on the surface, more so if we stay in one place for too long.
Either we are that lucky, not that outrageous considering my status as a Campione, or the Raptures are planning something.
Glancing toward Rapi, I see her standing a few meters from me, weapons in arms, and her eyes flicking between our perimeter and the descending aircraft. Meeting my eyes, she gives me a subtle nod. She most likely also thinks our situation is suspicious, so she affirms her readiness to me should it suddenly change.
Mihara and Yuni sit close together, the latter sitting on the former lap to recover from her turmoil. I believe that both of them had been thankful that I handled Syuen's call. The occasional soft glances in my direction are proof of that.
The wind from the front transport's rotors kicks up a storm of dust and loose debris as they descend. I raise a hand to shield my eyes, standing still as they start their landing procedure on the cracked road. The main hatch of the front aircraft hisses open in the sky, slowly revealing what must be the Matis squad if their unique sense of clothing is any indication.
Not waiting for the hatch to be fully opened, or for it to landfor that matter, one twin-tailed blonde Nikke wearing black skin-tight spandex and a puffy winter coat jumps out of the aircraft. It is followed by a scream of "You idioooot!" in frustration straight out of the flying vessel's hatch. The blue accent in her belt and solar panel tied on her coat's arms matched her blue eyes.
With a loud thump, the cheerful Nikke descended on the sinless rather soft ground, with an obvious outcome. She landed in a posethat iscommonly referred to as the superhero landing, with a bent knee, a wide stance, and a right fist holding her up. Then, with a boisterous voice filled with so much optimism and passion, she says, "Have no fear, commander of the Ark. Why? Of course it's because I, The Hero Laplace of Matis, have arrived!"
I make my opinion of her action known, by clapping my hands enthusiastically. Seemingly happy that her stunt is appreciated, she stands up with an innocent smug smile, giving the impression of someone with too much gremlin energy.
That didn't last long, as the leading aircraft quickly landed behind her. Then an orange-haired Nikke swiftly appeared behind Laplace. "How many times do I have to tell you NOT to jump out of a ship mid-flight?!" the former scolded, handalreadypulling on Laplace's ear like a mother would to a disobedient child.
The Nikke herself seems to be an oddity. Her legs look more mechanical than most as if she forgone from covering them with Goddesium skin. A railgun sniper (that on the surface looks similar to one of Snow White's Seven Dwarves) as tall as her attached to her back hip through a power cable, with two special ammunition dispensers tied around her hip and a canine-like mask hanging on her right dispenser. Green is placed strategically in her get-up to match her eye color, especially on her white shearling jacket with two sizable logos of Matis and Missilis. On her hair is a pair of metallic hair clips that seem to have a hidden functionor two, but still look cute on her.
"HA HA HA! That's what Hero gets when they rush ahead of the Greatest Villain that Ever Lived, Drake!" Another high-pitched voice declared, just as grandeur as Laplace but with a more theatrical feel and rapid pace than the former.
The source of that boast steps off the front aircraft carefully. Turns out, she is a white-haired Nikke with a broad smileon her face. She has red eyes that thankfully are a different shade than corruption. It's important to note that the smile on her face doesn't look like it's a malicious one, but more of an easygoing grin. She is also the one wearing the most armor, which is necessary if I take into account that her main weapon is essentially a super shotgun. A mini-cape drapes over her shoulder, with inner white and outer red that lean more toward goofiness than intimidation. Of course, she also has a small banner of her squad logo hanging above where her heart should be.
Between Laplace's heroism, the orange-haired sniper's clear exasperation, and the self-proclaimed villain's antics, I get the feeling thattryingto manage Matis' squad is a monumental task itself. But thankfully, they aren't the only squad sent to assist us. From the corner of my eyes, I see the other two aircraft also opening their hatches to drop off a squad of mass-produced Nikke each.