Chapter Text
Himeko
Repairing the damaged parts of the Express took about two system hours, leaving us about fifteen hours of travel before we reached the planet of the elites .
Divitae is located in an isolated corner of the galaxy, but this has only proved beneficial in its development over the ages. Being the only place with life in an inhospitable space, new space trade routes were designed around the planet, making travel through this part of the galaxy hundreds of times safer and less costly for the coffers of large corporations.
While Welt lost himself in his own thoughts and studies, I spent the next few hours locked in my room, studying the city of Vectigalia and preparing some equipment that might come in handy during the trip.
First, I unrolled the note I had taken from the guest book a few hours ago, a piece of paper containing a gift from the brilliant minds of Belobog — Pelageya Sergeyevna and Serval Landau.
This is an old gift that I've never given much thought to, but now it seemed useful to put a little effort into putting it to good use.
“Himeko, we'll be making the jump in a few minutes!”
I hear Pom-Pom on the other side of the door, which startles me a little.
Looking away from the complex tools and diagrams on my desk, I reach for the digital clock I've left on the bedside table — seven hours have passed since I started my preparation.
Maybe it was the caffeine from several cups of coffee, but my body was far from showing any signs of tiredness.
Stop exaggerating and rest, reality won't cease to exist overnight, Himeko .
The old phrase comes back to me like a shot from an old revolver, piercing my brain and giving me glimpses of my adolescence in small, unforgettable fragments.
I've always been that tireless person who sacrifices her own health in exchange for a slightly better result at the end of a project, which isn't always a healthy trade-off for the human body. During my teenage years, my study nights were almost endless, something that was only corrected when I met someone who made me a little more... rebellious , so to speak.
“Ah... get out of here,” I whispered to myself, shaking my head. Those memories should have faded by now.
Years have passed, but the memories of my youth are still as vivid as the most beautiful sunset. At first I thought that only the knowledge acquired at that time would remain burning in the confines of my memory, but I can remember everything about that damn girl — her purple hair, her eyes that were always calm but full of passion for art, her soft skin or the strong mint flavor her mouth had in a failed attempt to hide the sour taste of smoke that cigarettes left behind.
At least these memories serve as a good mechanism to make me tired and force a rest. It's better to sleep than spend a few minutes remembering how someone gradually discarded me.
I put away everything that could be affected by the thud of the space jump before throwing myself on my bed, settling down between the blankets. By now I was used to the discomfort of jumping, which made me an expert at ignoring the common symptoms related to it.
As the Express ventures between the stars and glides through gaps in outer space, my eyes close so that my brain can have its well-deserved rest, freeing me from the pain of reliving the past.
Hours later, fully awake, I walked over to the parlor car, where Welt and Pom-Pom seemed to be talking about something extremely important.
Without even noticing me, the conductor ran back to his cabin when he seemed to have given Welt all the details he wanted. The sight of his cute little legs moving fast managed to get a slight chuckle out of my throat.
“New look?” Welt asked, glancing in my direction as he probably heard me giggle. The watchful eyes and serious features from when he was talking to Pom-Pom now gave way to a relaxed, calm countenance.
“Vectigalia is halfway through its rainy season,” I say, justifying my sudden change of style.
Diverging from the usual dress, my choice of clothes for our stay in Divitae came down to high-waisted pants, long-sleeved shirt and boots. An ideal choice of clothing for work, along with excellent protection from the cold.
“Leaving that aside, what were you and the conductor talking about?”
“The same as in Penacony,” he says, crossing his arms in front of his body. “Vectigalia seems to have access to a huge wave of information about the Express's past, this time more than just Trailblazers.”
“Akivili,” I say, a little intrigued.
Welt nods, equally interested in what the capital has to offer us about the life of the Aeons. “Pom-Pom asked me to explore ancient places, do research, that sort of thing again. Luckily the Express isn't due to attend any festivals or anything like that, so I'll have the time and freedom to explore everything at my leisure.”
“Does that mean that the mission of looking after the fossils until Madame Ruan Mei arrives is under my care?” I narrow my eyes, looking at Welt in a tone that is more comical than threatening. For me, it wouldn't be a problem to handle the job alone.
“Sorry, sorry,” he laughs, joining in the joke. “But if there are any problems, don't hesitate to get in touch. Pom-Pom and I will join you in no time.”
“I'll remember that.”
The loudspeakers around the wagon have the ambient music overlaid by the conductor's voice, which warns of the arrival on the planet of the elites.
Welt and I almost instantly turned to the window next to us, witnessing the entire passage of the Express through Divitae's atmosphere. After a few seconds of clouds in the night sky, the city of Vectigalia finally shone in the background.
It appeared to be early evening, which made our first sight of the capital even more impressive. It also made my decision to have slept a few hours before our arrival a terrible one, as my body would be facing a long time zone conflict for the next few days.
“To be honest, I expected more...”
Next to me, Welt stared indifferently at the tall buildings and the strong urban lighting. I remembered what he used to say about his homeland, where urban centers were as common as water in an ocean. To him, a big city like Vectigalia seemed like just another one of the many he had lived in for most of his life.
For me, it was nothing impressive either. The capital was almost three times the size of Belobog, but all the architecture seemed so simple and artificial that I didn't feel like looking at it — it was as if all the houses and buildings had been taken out of a canned IPC product.
Pom-Pom stopped the Astral Express at the end of the Silver Highway, located in what appeared to be a large center for the entry and exit of spaceships. Apart from us, several people were moving around, looking after their ships and cargo.
The Express attracted some attention from other passers-by, as our space train certainly didn't look like a conventional cargo ship. Luckily for us, no one seemed to care enough to ask us questions and consume any amount of our time.
“I'll be heading straight to the hotel,” I say, checking the information sent by Asta on my smartphone. “Ms. Asta made a reservation at a hotel close to where the big event will be held. Unfortunately it wasn't possible to get reservations at the main hotel. Most of the rooms were reserved for guests and those that were left were quickly snapped up by IPC members and some other companies.”
“This auction seems to be quite important,” said Welt as he wiped the lenses of his glasses with a soft cloth.
“The auction itself is far from being really important. The people who have been invited are the main attraction,” I say, checking one last time that the high-tech handcuff around my wrist is correctly allocated. “High-ranking members of the IPC, important merchants on an intergalactic scale, famous figures in the entertainment world, all sorts of very wealthy people with great reputations.”
“In short: a great place to create a new line of business across the known galaxy,” Welt concludes. “Sometimes I'm grateful that our network of contacts is built up naturally wherever we go.”
“I don't think taking on great antagonists and preventing evil plans from coming to fruition is a natural way to create new alliances.”
Welt shrugged, cracking a smile as he went his own way. He knew that he was, in some very strange and unusual way, right about this topic.
For now, it was impossible to say where my friend would go, although he seemed cultured and calm, his mind was as erratic as the animations about giant robots he watched from time to time.
Whenever Welt splits from the group, he disappears for a few days. Perhaps the nature of his solitary research keeps him in a hypnotic trance state worthy of an avid scholar, or perhaps he just likes to be alone for a while. That's another impossible thing to discover about my mysterious friend.
For me, solitude is more like a tool — a moment to reflect on everything around me.
Whenever I walk down the street, listening to nothing but my thoughts, I find myself thinking about my past.
Should I have changed something in my last project?
Did I forget something important before I got off the Express?
Could I have said something different?
“What?”
My body slams on the brakes between walking, the volume around me becoming a rhythmless mess. At first I thought I was sinking into my memories, reaching a traumatic corner of my memories, but something else was happening. A natural phenomenon that had nothing to do with my existence — the sudden change in the weather.
And then I finally found the answer to one of my many questions. I really had forgotten something on the Express: my umbrella.
The sound of water hitting buildings and the street gradually increased at an alarming rate. Most people were unconcerned, only getting wet for a few seconds as they opened their umbrellas to protect them. The other part of the graph, on the other hand, was made up of people like me, running to the nearest place to escape the rain and avoid taking an unplanned shower.
I ran for a few meters, placing the white suitcase above my head to protect what I could of my clothes. Luckily, or ironically, an open-air café lay at the end of the street, positioned just below a sturdy wooden structure that prevented the tables and the trailer where the coffee was brewed from being devastated by the rain.
I sat down at the nearest empty table, getting the chair and table a little wet with clumsy movements. My lungs burned a little, I had never run so much in my life, not even when being chased by some creature from the Fragmentum .
“Can I get you anything, miss?”
One of the attendants approaches me, pen and paper in hand.
“Ah... of course!”
I reply, without even reading the menu.
I'd feel awful sitting there for dozens of minutes without ordering anything, just taking the place of a potential customer.
“I'll have...”
My eyes ran over the plasticized menu, startled to notice the amounts of numbers placed in front of each of the options. Thousands of credits for a simple coffee, something unthinkable even on a planet ruled by the dictatorial monarchy of a terrible sovereign.
“Coffee... black?” I say, my voice failing me as I utter the simplest option available.
“Right. Your order will be here in a moment!” the young man says, giving me a welcoming smile before walking away.
And it really only took a moment... well, three minutes to be precise. Even with a moderate amount of customers, the orders were delivered at alarming speeds — perhaps this is the result of applying great salaries, fast and quality service.
I dried what I could of the case before placing it on my lap to create a comfortable and safe position for tasting my order. The coffee was really delicious, with perfectly balanced bitter tones in the brewing, but nothing incredible that was worth the exaggerated price charged by the establishment.
One, two, three sips. Nothing different. Maybe I just wanted to find something to fool myself into accepting that I'd spent so much on something so simple.
And then, on the fourth sip, my mouth was hit by a distinct bitterness that twisted my countenance.
It wasn't acidic or sweet, it was far from caffeine. It was more pungent, silvery, metallic. As if I had run my tongue along the metal connections of a video game cartridge.
How is something like this sold in such a rich place? It's something so contrasting that it seems unreal, modified.
Modified.
Edited.
“Hey, where are you going?!”
The attendant shouted, but I was already far away. My legs were running even faster than minutes ago, pushing through the rain and shoving occasional pedestrians with a certain aggression.
I was able to hear the beginning of what sounded like a horrible curse coupled with a threat to call the authorities to arrest me, but the person who uttered it was unable to complete the sentence.
Something shut her up.
The frightened sight of something fast and threatening.
The danger on my back seemed to be moving at an intense speed, but my feet were able to get away from the large crowds before the dangerous part burst out.
I turned as quickly as I could, raising my left arm to position Herta's briefcase in front of my body. I only caught a glimpse of the stylized projectile — a small blue spaceship made of glowing pixels — before it hit the surface of the case and was dismantled into tiny energy cubes that now decorate the asphalt beneath my feet.
“ Aether edition ,” I say, letting out an unpleasant sigh for the health of my own lungs. “Shit...”
I had little time to catch my breath, as there wasn't just a single danger to be avoided. A hooded figure appeared in front of me, his full form only forming moments before the sword in his hand drew an aggressive arc in the air.
By reflex, my body arched backwards, preventing my chest from suffering horrible bruises.
Blow after blow and step after step, a series of deflections took place before I could raise my arms, positioning the case against the blade's new trajectory. After the sparks and a horrible sound of metal clashing against metal, I could see them through our weapons — the eyes of a wanted criminal.
“Blade,” I recite his name as I press my briefcase against his shattered sword, preventing the immortal swordsman from attacking again. “ Kafka's puppy .”
As usual, he didn't utter a word or show any irritation.
Freeing his blade from direct confrontation, he retreated a few steps, leaving me with a clearer view of my current situation.
Ordinary people surrounded us on all sides, several of them with their smartphones in hand recording what was happening.
In front of me, a few meters away, two figures dressed in raincoats stared at me in deep silence.
Blade maintained his disciplined combat stance, while his companion popped a gum balloon between her lips.
“Silver Wolf,” I say.
“Himeko,” she replies, flashing a smile. “How are you after Penacony?”
“I've been better.”
“Yeah... sorry about that,” she scratches the back of her head, slightly dragging the hood of the raincoat that concealed their identities. “Nothing personal.”
“It's never personal with you guys, is it?”
We sucked the last bit of peaceful air out of our lungs before getting moving again.
Fighting them both was suicide, complete madness. I needed a way to avoid them, a way to turn an unequal fight in my favor.
When Blade advanced again, eyes glowing in sick calm, his blade sliced through nothing but air.
Quickly materializing in my free hand, my trusty briefcase unfolded into a sturdy drone, clinging to my right arm abruptly.
The small turbines spat out flames provided by the heat core, accelerating and generating a strong thrust, launching me into a dangerous flight.
A long vertical distance was created between me and the duo, making Silver Wolf's shots a more complex task to execute in the heavy rain.
Despite the complex and glamorous nature of my escape, the situation was far from being resolved. Silver Wolf used her reality-altering abilities to create countless floating purplish platforms that traced a perfect path to me.
I landed on top of the nearest building, my combat drone wasn't designed for long-distance transportation or carrying someone through the rain. Blade and Silver Wolf were right behind, jumping from platform to platform.
Forty seconds was all I had available. More time than I needed to be prepared .
“No way out,” Blade said in his usual melancholy tone as he landed on the same floor, his knees cracking from the aggressive fall.
“Come on, Himeko,” unlike her crazy companion, Silver Wolf made the platform lower so that she had a softer landing. “Hand over the suitcase.”
“Please, it's clear that you don't care about the suitcase,” I say, avoiding showing my irritation. “You could have already ripped my arm off or removed the chains with your strange abilities, what you want is standing right in front of you, am I right?”
Silver Wolf lowers the hood of her raincoat, letting the water soak her glasses and hair. “Clever as always. So, how do we do it?”
“The good way, or the bad way?” Blade asks, the tip of his sword pointed in my direction.
“Let’s fight...”
My trusty drone swooped through the air, spinning and gaining enough momentum to become an attacker that couldn't be ignored.
Silver Wolf took the lead from her partner, stretching out her arm to direct her Punklordian skills in the path of the attack — from her fingertips, pixels forged a physical shield, similar to an armor icon from some game.
With the attack avoided, Blade glided forward like a shadow, aiming to end the battle in a single blow.
“ Enemy data secured! ”
The pair are startled by the sudden, unfamiliar mechanical voice.
“Time for a good old counterattack...” I complete the activation phrase, smiling victoriously.
From one moment to the next, a debilitating sound wave covers a limited area, powerful enough to generate visual effects in the form of energy beams. Inside the sphere of action, Silver Wolf and Blade were thrown to the ground, their brains suffering profound effects of confusion and nausea.
“Belobog technology...” I say, gloating a little at the situation.
I looked up at the sky for a quick moment, the small floating robots that generate the concussive wave appeared to be working properly. At first I thought it would just be an exaggerated measure to add them to my suitcase, but it turned out that all the care and hours put into making the drone's mechanism spit them out safely had earned me an important victory.
“I need to warn Welt and the conductor as soon as possible...”
I reach for my smartphone in my pants pocket, scrolling through the list of contacts as fast as my thumb can manage. At the bottom of the list, Welt's number was waiting to be pressed.
“ Sorry ...”
I hear. Before my smartphone is snapped in half.
Quickly and precisely, the cut split the device into two perfectly symmetrical parts, taking a large chunk of my palm with it.
Hot, almost electric, the wound tingled for a few moments before the pain hit it full force.
It hurt like hell. Any movement of my palm threw me into a sea of punishment.
“Hello, Himeko.”
The cursed woman said as she sheathed the purple blade that had wounded me.
“ Hello, Kafka... ”