“Hey, are you sure Nozomu is really in there?”
She muttered while holding the box made of alloy panels about the size of a cardboard box.
“Yes, that’s why I’d appreciate it if you didn’t handle it so roughly, Galatea.”
“I wouldn’t dare treat something you’ve given me so carelessly, my esteemed Saint.”
I am currently visiting the inner canopy of the Holy City, which is still recovering from the confusion.
Of course, since the massive Titan-2 can only fit in limited spaces, I’m here in an interim prosthetic body hastily shaped by a three-dimensional molding machine—but, well, let’s not call it a prosthetic—rather a box where I reside.
Inside this box are the bare minimum necessary for communication equipment and life-support systems, as well as devices that send out pseudo-signals so the computer doesn’t force a shutdown, claiming that “a body is present.” The cavity is filled with a cushioning fluid, where my skull rests.
Thus, right now, this box, as pathetic as it is, truly is the essence of me—Nozomu Matsumoto.
Decades of service as an integrated military officer, even degraded to a makeshift prosthetic, were not something I expected to culminate in this: a box. The first time I saw my reflection using the optical element embedded in the center, I felt so pitiful I almost cried. Even soldiers being evacuated from the battlefield get packed into something more luxurious.
Out of sheer embarrassment, I even considered asking Selene to stamp it with “PERISHABLE.”
“Thanks for trusting me, my knight. Right now, I can’t even move on my own.”
“Calling this the Guardian who protects the canopy might not get believed by anyone, huh?”
With her uttering such disrespectful words—well, carried by her, might I add—and with you, is it alright that your breasts are resting on the box because of how you’re holding it—we visited the restricted area of the Holy City.
While Aurelia uses my authority to banish those fools who dare attempt to return, we wanted to quietly explore within.
As of now, Titan-2 is remotely piloted by Selene, and our regular reconnaissance drone is fluttering ahead while in formation with us is the humanoid chassis that awkwardly trudges along.
“We’ve arrived.”
“Alright, let’s give this a try.”
I had Galatea pull the cable from the side of the main unit and connect the built-in terminal to the console of the restricted area. This place is a peripheral section of the upper portion of “Inanna 12,” chosen as an access point because it’s unlikely to attract attention.
“How’s it going?”
“Just give me a moment.”
The recognition signals were, as expected, plain binary code, simple but resilient as only the mundane structures of the Solar Republic’s OS could be, uncorrupted despite the entanglements.
However, when I attempted to input an identification code for the Integrated Military, it was rejected. After trying various protocols for emergency evacuations that didn’t require ship’s crew privileges, as well as international distress protocols, one of them finally reacted and the door opened.
“Wow…”
Nine hundred years since the last time this would be seen by believers, I presume.
However, since we’re connected near the outer hull plating—there’s an up and down on this ship, which is suited for old-humans—there are no critical items here. It’s just the temple hall, and thanks to the functioning self-maintenance system, the corridor is desolate yet immaculate with not a speck of dust.
At regular intervals, there are emergency bulkhead doors designed for air-tight seals or explosive bolts for purging damaged sections. Guided by the ship’s map we’d obtained during the earlier access, we trudged through the restricted area for about two hours.
“Ch, hey, Nozomu, can we take a break…”
“Of course, it is a big ship, after all.”
You see, with a diameter of about 120 km—about one-thirtieth the size of the moon—it’s not something you’d walk across. Depending on the distance, it could take days just to reach from one end to the other.
“Just a little more patience. There’s a cart right ahead.”
“Haah… haah… a cart?”
After walking for about five minutes, we opened a door to reveal a space about the size of a small gymnasium filled with electric carts.
Naturally, being such a large ship, transport means are provided wherever needed. That’s why the corridors are 15 meters wide, and trains even run through various parts of the hull.
Though, unfortunately, thanks to the landing impact, tracks are probably warped or fractured, so they’re unavailable this time around.
“Alright, this one looks like a regular four-wheeler. This, I can probably handle.”
“Conveniently, there’s a two-seater officer-class one over there. Place me in the passenger seat.”
Despite having been neglected for a long time, the carts are powered by what seems to be some “mysterious” contact charging from the ship’s maintenance system, allowing them to work effortlessly. Neither the battery nor the tires show any signs of wear, which feels somewhat absurdly unrealistic.
It’s appreciated that it runs, don’t get me wrong. But how does something with an expected lifespan of fifty-or-so years still function?
“The Holy City must be regularly blessed.”
“Prayers alone could make sub-planetary-class vessels remain well-maintained? Engineers would cry blood, and the supply division would die of frustration.”
“Maybe I can skip EVAs too.”
Though being a mech pilot sounds glamorous, in space it mainly revolves around work like combat engineers utilizing the flexibility of humanoid forms. Tasks like using tethers to create holes in an enemy vessel, or more often, filling holes in our own ships after collision with space debris. The majority of our jobs revolve around ship-related holes, and such is life as a mechanic for spaceships.
Imagine a day when prayer alone keeps power grids, and delicate components maintained without fail. Titles would be rewritten and, if the maintenance of ships can be replaced by just placing a shrine to a ‘Machine God’ alongside the Holy Trinity shrines and memorial tablets for fallen soldiers, my nation would definitely construct large shrines for every ship it could.
“But man, this cart is quiet… glad we’re alone where no one can see.”
“It’s equipped with collision avoidance, so that’s fine.”
“Next corner right, please.”
The speed limiter that restricts it to 40 km/h was tampered with to be lifted, and driving over 80 km/h with identical landscapes makes it hard to feel the speed.
Driving has always felt reassuring with Galatea. Despite her outwardly lively demeanor, she values safe driving, avoiding both sudden accelerations and decelerations and carefully handling turns.
“According to the map, we should be around here.”
“Ah… Driving is exhausting… if I had walked, how many days would it take? Truly, the canopy is vast.”
We took two elevators in succession and, after about another two hours of driving, reached the central part of the sealed zone.
“Alright, we’ve arrived.”
“Hey, those are ancient letters!”
Finally, we arrived near the ship’s reactor. Due to its high power consumption and importance, the control room of the “factory facilities” was located near the ship’s center.
The oddly square-shaped alphabets written there were apparently known as ancient letters, though their structure didn’t seem to differ greatly. Galatea exclaimed that she could read them while I overrode the locks to open the sealed door.
Inside was well-maintained too, with a multi-purpose cleaning drone equipped with four legs standing nearby. Meeting these autonomous operating machines about the same size as the roadways is perplexingly mysterious.
“Let’s get this done.”
Selene hopped off me, landed at the control panel, and began connecting the wiring.
Despite not being a high-tier warship, the consoles and seats here make the room lively. While practical for VR-experienced me, it’s still exciting to see how a real spaceship operates, though functionality might take precedence when in use.
“…Ah, it seems we’re good to go. Apparently, there were emergency design plans for salvaged bodies.”
“Great! Truly, Selene, hurry up, hurry up!”
“I’d still do it without being rushed. It will take roughly thirty minutes of physical time to complete the transformation.”
“Hey Nozomu, I barely know anything about legs, but what are we going to find here?”
“Hehehe, that’s a delightful surprise for later. You, go hydrate and wait.”
“But surprises aren’t really my thing…”
We each waited for what felt like an eternity for me—thirty minutes.
“Alright, Galatea, put the captain’s box in the intake.”
“Eh? Are you sure it’s okay to put it in there? W-Will it be alright?”
Galatea, who had been holding my box nervously all along—she never let go—was now being told by Selene to place it gently into the receptacle.
Reluctantly, the box was gently dropped in. As I slid down the conveyor belt into the machine, I wondered idly if this was how it felt to be cremated, before my consciousness went dark.
Then, my vision flickered as if it was a glitch on a monitor.
“Whoa, whoa, whoaa…!”
The OS initial settings scrolled by, and my favorite settings automatically reflected in my braincase, which had been in its most updated form before I fell asleep. This necessitated some driver reinstallation to older versions due to compatibility issues with Yellow Path Commonwealth’s components; but compared to the infinitely felt waiting period, this was over in an instant.
The world… it’s vast! Thanks to the nano-tube carbon optical elements nearly hidden among the hair, I could see almost 360 degrees minus directly underfoot, and my vision, boosted by the maximal telescopic feature, could read a vision chart from 2 kilometers away.
My hearing range expanded significantly, surpassing human limits many times over, with an automatic filtration system so the eardrums are never at risk of rupture. I could probably hear a coin dropping 200 meters away right now.
My sense of smell also improved drastically, with an array of olfactory elements without any need for filters, reaching a level surpassing that of military dogs. Distinguishing the contents of any food or drink would be an instant task with just a sniff.
And the heart beating in my chest—or not, since it’s actually non-moving—is a civilian fusion reactor!
No need for food or drink, no need for breathing, selective pain filtering with parts easily replaceable save for the head, creating a dream body capable of immediate repair…
“Wait, isn’t this Type-C Model 2?!”
“Waaa!?”
I shouted upon exiting the rollout exit. Galatea, perhaps missing the embrace, staggered and stumbled. The only one calmly disconnecting wires from the console was Selene.
What is this? Compared to the Class-J body, there’s a world of difference, but it’s a regular civilian prosthetic body!
“Welcome back, Captain.”
“Selene, what is this?!”
“…Well, think about it. This is a ship of the Yellow Path Commonwealth. While there might be a facility to provide temporary bodies to salvaged mechanized humans, there’s no way it can output military-grade prosthetics. I don’t even have the design blueprints for that, and besides, this is a military vessel.”
She did mention some upgrades, but when I glanced at the specs, they were abysmal.
The skeleton is just lightweight elastic alloy, subcutaneous armor with multi-scale shock absorption mechanisms exists but lacks bulletproof capabilities. It can sustain a truck collision, but even in heavy armor mode, a coil gun can scratch the surface.
Moreover, the output of all actuators is also questionable. Even if I try hard, lifting 500 kg might be the limit.
And what’s this small fusion reactor? An output of only 5 gigawatts—barely enough to recharge the ‘Holy Spear,’ and it’s worse than the reactor I had before.
And a Type-2 model… it even implements blinks, heart sounds, and the warmth of the body to cater to mechanical-phobic individuals…
“No…Zo…mu…”
“Aah, Ga…latea?! Stop!”
This isn’t a glitch in my vocal functions or a sudden malfunction in language formatting. I was slapped on the cheek, causing a strange sound to emerge.
“Th-That Ga…latea!”
Slap! She slapped me again with the back of her hand!
“Is No…zomu… really you…?”
“Don’t you think it’s better to pinch or poke instead of slapping?!?”
As she aimed for a third slap, I caught her wrist, and her eyes suddenly started to water.
“Waaaah… waaaaaa!!”
She began sobbing and clung to my chest.
Eh? What? What’s happening? What did I do?
I just wanted to surprise her by not mentioning the main reason we came here was for the prosthetic reconstruction, but this much crying?
“I-It’s alive! It’s aliveee… I can hear the heartbeat…!”
“A-Ah, that’s just a dummy… and we’ve been talking normally all this time…”
“It’s warm! It feels so soft, waaahhh… Your skin is smoother than mineee!? Why did you come out naked!?”
Amidst a mix of various emotions, her screams echoed, as she roughly touched my body. Galatea, remember, there’s something called ‘compliance’ in this world. Even if prosthetics might be considered tools, touching another human being—especially the opposite gender—without consent isn’t a commendable action.
I looked for help from Selene, and she sat on the console, turned her head, and played with a disconnected terminal cable. Ah, she’s blocking the wireless signals.
“Alright, alright, I get it, it’s my fault, I shouldn’t have surprised you, I’m sorry, Galatea…”
“It’s not that… It’s … you’re aliveeee! It’s so good to seeeee you aliveeee!”
But you’ve known I was alive from the start, even when I was inside the Titan-2, and we kept talking while I was in the box-shaped hull, right?
This is hopeless! I can’t comprehend the sensibilities of the old humans anymore…
【Planetary Exploration Note】Type-C Full Prosthetic. A popular general-purpose prosthetic designed for regular people to use. Type-1 uses non-organic materials to focus on maintenance ease and robustness, being made for space-related activities with forms slightly different from humans. On the other hand, Type-2, utilizing organic materials, mimics humans as closely as possible suitable for individuals who’ve just finished basic education and are unfamiliar with prosthetics, or those with a naturalist bent.
Currently, the Unified Military and its allied organizations adopt the Kabi Hiko D23 Type made by Great East Asia Heavy Industries.
We plan to release an update on 08/04/2024 at around 15:00.
