Annihilation Device (4)

Of course, our friendly neighbor ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠— the core of the Annihilation Device — showed no interest whatsoever in conversation.

"Stay still."

"Urghk."

After peeling open the armored plates along its serpentine body and brandishing the countless beam cannons and missiles nested within, the core began sweeping a scanner from its head across the ship we were aboard.

"Minister, that freaky robot is trying to scan us!"

"Hmm..."

In that moment, a thought crossed my mind — what would the Annihilation Core do once it got a look at us inside the ship?

Ah. It'll ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠just open fire on the spot... or try to use us as organic batteries.

Still, I knew full well how formidable the Leviathan's performance was. No matter how many beams and missiles the Annihilation Core packed, punching straight through the Leviathan's armor plating was out of the question.

So I prepared to wait out its opening barrage, then drag the Leviathan right up to its head for a full-scale assault and bombing run —

And then.

"Ah. You are one of my kind."

A voice that made every one of us, still frantically prepping for combat, doubt our own ears came flooding indiscriminately through the ship's internal comms.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Right? Same kind of existence as itself... oh, wait — maybe it means their core specs are the same?"

At Riel's words, her antennae twitching as she spoke, Levia quietly raised a finger to her lips and called for silence.

"...!"

Immediately after, Levia worked several panels on the bridge's communications console and began transmitting in a voice tone completely different from before.

"One of your kind?"

"Do you not remember? You and I — and our masters and their civilization, destroyed by those detestable Precursors."

"...Hmm."

"Judging by the fact that your hull interior cannot be scanned, you must have come in response to the assembly signal I broadcast."

"By assembly signal, you mean the one the nanomachines were emitting?"

"Correct. It was quite the ordeal, modifying them one by one to make it."

"I see."

While Levia and the Annihilation Core talked, the rest of us had stepped well clear of the comms equipment and simply watched her work.

"A Dark Age civilization destroyed by the Precursors... this is the kind of material that would have archaeologists lighting their eyes on fire and charging in!"

"Is that so?"

Of course, we weren't just watching in silence — we were chatting and killing time in our own way. While Levia floated a dense array of communication panels in midair and kept up her exchange with the Annihilation Core, we passed the minutes listening to Minister Vermouth's impromptu history lecture.

Before long, the communication between Levia and the Annihilation Core came to an end.

"Minister, the communication has just ended."

"That was quick."

As Levia approached to report, a new event window materialized before my eyes.

Interesting.

The strongest, most terrifying boss in the game had just casually joined our side. Well — not exactly our side. More accurately, it had joined the team of the Levia standing next to us.

And that last line of the event message made it crystal clear:

⚠ WARNING! If you or any personnel inside the dreadnought are identified by the Annihilation Core, your relationship will immediately turn hostile!

The Annihilation Core's friendliness applied exclusively to Levia — a being of its own generation. The moment we got reeled in by that friendly act and so much as opened a channel ourselves...

That mechanical mass, vastly larger even than this enormous Super Dreadnought, would come down on us like a hammer.

The moment I released the pause, I shot Levia a hand signal to confirm the situation.

Is the Annihilation Device tapping our internal comms?

The second I sent it, a flicker ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of worry hit me. Levia had learned the Empire's basic hand signals and communication methods before we came here — but what if she didn't know this one, or had it wrong?

Of course, Levia was not a dementia-riddled middle-aged guy in his thirties (a teenager by human standards) plagued by gay-pedophile smear campaigns the way I was.

She shook her head from side to side the moment she understood my signal.

"Do not worry. Although the Annihilation Core has seized control of our ship's communication network, I have physically established a separate network in anticipation of exactly that."

"Oh...?"

I must have looked puzzled about what that actually meant, because Riel and Minister Vermouth — both crouched beside me — immediately supplied the answer.

"So basically, the Annihilation Core is eavesdropping right now, but it's not connected to the network we're actually using?"

"And on top of that, to further prevent interception, she's feeding fake data into the compromised network in real time."

Levia nodded at their explanation and added more.

"Correct. If the compromised network went completely silent, the Annihilation Core might grow suspicious. So I have allocated additional processing power to that channel and am synthesizing airflow patterns, vibration waves from my own movements, and similar ambient noise into the feed."

Damn.

Once I confirmed the situation was under control, Riel's voice came over the ship-wide broadcast.

"Aaaand we're clear, everyone! Come on out and get back to whatever you were doing."

While she announced the all-clear, I decided to put the real question to Levia — why the Annihilation Core was being so friendly toward her.

"Levia. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Why is that massive Annihilation Core treating you so amicably?"

"Hmm..."

But at my question, Levia — uncharacteristically — only hummed in silence and offered no real answer.

"Ohohohoho! Allow me to take a crack at that one!"

Instead, Minister Vermouth — whose screen time and contributions had been rather sparse of late — barged in with an unnecessarily theatrical tone and flourish.

"...What is it?"

"Judging by the conversation just now, aren't the two of you weapons manufactured by the same civilization?"

I shot her a look that said don't just rehash what we already heard, and Minister Vermouth grinned sheepishly.

"It can receive the assembly signal. It takes zero damage from the nanomachine swarm. And the moment a scan identifies what kind of ship this is, it turns friendly?"

"..."

"What do you suppose that means, Minister Arto?"

I glanced at Levia as she said it. Levia held her silence for a moment, then gave two small nods.

"That is correct. However — I am not in league with the Annihilation Weapon in the way the Minister over there seems to imagine."

"...?"

If it's correct, it's correct — so what was that supposed to mean?

At that rather ambiguous response, not just me but Vermouth and even Riel — who had just finished her broadcast and come back — all wore the same expression of what exactly are you trying to say?

"Hmm... this may take a while. Is that acceptable?"

The moment I heard Levia ask whether we could handle a Too-Much-Talker session —

Faced with the newly appeared event message, I hesitated for only a moment — then selected option one and released the pause.

"All right. Let's hear it, then."

"Understood."

Of course, right before that, I also asked what she planned to do if the Annihilation Core tried additional eavesdropping — or took some other action while her attention was split by the conversation.

"Do not worry. With the exception of the processing power required to maintain this biological core, I have dedicated the full computational capacity of my mainframe to countering the Annihilation Core."

"Oh."

I nodded at that, and Levia began to lay out her story without further hesitation.