Medical Center
Decisions made under the sway of the moment usually come with regret.
You find yourself thinking—why the hell did I do that?—disappointed in yourself even as your head cools with the passage of time.
To measure every problem against a sentimental yardstick simply because they were a frontier minority was an extremely discriminatory way of thinking. The Yurdin aboard Hermes were no primitive tribe lacking technology, and the script and language they used were the same as the Empire's.
"Technically speaking, there are plenty of ways to implement it. I don't know exactly what the heat source is, but adjusting the conductivity of a polarizing plate so it resonates with a sunstone isn't that difficult."
"Is that so?"
"The military is drowning in academic research on the Yurdin. Anyone can figure out that if you present the phenomenon they want like some kind of miracle magic, they're that much easier to control."
"Maybe so."
Departure day.
Ilena appeared in front of me the moment I finished packing and stepped out of my quarters, launching into another of her context-free monologues. I was starting to understand her by now. Analyze the tremor in her voice and that trademark eloquence of hers was nothing more than a stopgap—a way to hide what she was actually feeling. She'd insisted she absolutely wasn't going, then gone blank and nodded at my suggestion; thinking back on it must have been embarrassing. Why she felt the need to spill her guts to me like some kind of apology, I still didn't know.
"I don't get how you were walking around Ebon Square just fine, or why you delayed the expedition a whole week for no real reason when everything was already ready. Bottom line, that suit of yours is weird."
As an ability user, she had her doubts about the suit's structure and capabilities. For a remark tossed out without even looking my way, it was a pretty sharp instinct.
The reason I'd delayed the expedition… was that I'd wanted to secure as much power as possible, just in case. Even with Sera's rapid recovery, depleted mana still took time to replenish.
"So, you're not coming?"
I asked, resting my hand on the door handle leading to the mess hall.
"Who said I wasn't going? I'm just making sure you know."
"Know what?"
"That I'm not the same as those idiots."
The moment I opened the door, the Yurdin children came swarming past the already-prepared team members. They thrust out hands caked in dye-mixed mud and smeared it all over me. Some Yurdin tradition of their own, maybe—and from the standpoint of masking scent, it wasn't a bad idea.
"Don't get hurt out there!"
"You can do it!"
"Go-go-go-go-go!!"
"Ilena, come here! You smell like oil!"
"Shut up, you little brats—don't graffiti the machine!"
A few of the children even hooked their HelioLites onto my fingernails or the tips of my hair. I'd heard they almost never handed those things over to anyone else—which probably explained why their faces had gone a curious shade of red.
"I can't promise I'll bring them back safely."
"Ah—you don't have to give them back…"
"Hey—! Don't take that! You're barely out of the cradle and you're already—move!"
Seeing off by the children and the people remaining in the shelter, we set out for the medical center.
Beyond the sealed bulkhead stretched a pure-white corridor that called a psychiatric ward to mind—and nothing but stains soaked entirely in red.
The Empire was, without question, a class society. It did not practice slavery, but most facilities aboard the ship were stratified all the same. The district medical center in the Residence Sector was no exception.
> All patients admitted to Grade-5 medical facilities, please change into provided garments and follow the quarantine officer's instructions.
> Current patients waiting in this sector: 3,927. Of these, treatment completed (natural death): 3,927.
A chilling message greeted us: not a single survivor. Failing to respond in the early stages and herding patients into the medical center like quarantined livestock had been the reason the mutant numbers were so staggering. Fortunately, the main system was still running, so we wouldn't have to face every single one of them at once.
"Kyaaaaak!!"
As a test, I swiped a card key across a door marked Infirmary—and a mutant came bursting out the instant it opened. Encountering one in a confined space made response that much harder: tentacles that climbed the walls to attack, no room to surround it, and above all the close-range assault that could leave you badly hurt if you weren't careful.
— CRUNCH!!
Of course, I was at the front of our party, so it was fine. Unlike before, my power sat comfortably above eighty percent—and I had a new trait that put my mind somewhat at ease.
Ionic Plasma Shield Lv.1
The mechanic frets over your remaining service life and durability, worrying every night about damage to the unit—even while busy with residential repairs.
Selecting this option deploys power outward to generate a protective barrier that offsets incoming attacks.
Energy consumption scales with the physical magnitude of the impact defended against. Should damage exceeding remaining power be sustained, the core may suffer fatal damage. Exercise caution.
When I deployed the shield, blue current ran across the metal surfaces of the outer armor. There was a risk of power melting away like ice cream if I wasn't careful—but at least I no longer had to worry about minor injuries.
"The supplies we need are also in the outpatient intake facility, but there may be more mutants there than medicine. It would be better to head for the special wards—or the intensive care unit accessible only to VIPs: the Oasis."
Following Sera's recommendation, we set our sights first on the special wing used by Imperial nobility. We still had four floors to climb, but it would ultimately be the safer choice. With oxygen available, we didn't need to race the clock.
"Kyaaaaak!!"
"Waaaaagh!"
"Tsk. Pathetic soft-handed bookworm. Out of the way!!"
There were moments when mutants poured out in numbers, but we managed well enough. Aside from Joseph, who had no talent for combat, the rest of the party could at least look after themselves.
Open. Smash. Push forward again.
What broke the monotony of that almost tedious repetition was the moment we found the stairs leading up to the Grade-4 medical facility.
"Huh…?"
"What is it, Mechanic— wait?"
The bulkhead opened, and a single mutant stood ahead of us. The instant I saw its head swollen grotesquely larger than the others, a bad feeling hit me. Sure enough, something slammed hard into my back just as I started forward. I turned to find Sera and Hailey standing with their mouths hanging open, plasma sword and stun baton both knocked from their hands.
And then—
— THUD! CLANG! CRASH!
Ilena suddenly went tumbling across the floor, dragged straight past me toward the creature. The oxygen tank she'd been wearing to work her welding torch—separate from the Life-Conditioning System—had been the problem. Urtula threw his fire axe at just the right moment, and the ability cut off.
I poured every scrap of power I could into the suit and cleared the stairs in two strides, striking at the mutant's head.
"Kieeeeek!!"
"What, did you think this one got pulled along too?"
An ability that dragged nearby objects in with powerful magnetism. But it didn't work on the suit—apparently whatever metal I was made of wasn't the kind that stuck to magnets. I hesitated for a moment over whether to fire a phase-disintegration beam in such a tight space—and in that gap, the lights flickered and the ceiling came down. It had used its supernatural ability to tear free a section of the metal hull. Vision went dark as if a curtain had dropped, and I had no choice but to fall back a step.
I considered chasing the mutant that had fled across the ceiling in that opening, then turned back to Ilena first. She'd been hauled halfway up the stairs by her own body; the moment she came to her senses, she groped for her mask. But like the crumpled oxygen tank, the welding mask that had protected her face was badly mangled.
"Oh my god—you're bleeding everywhere!"
"I'm sorry. My weapon was taken so suddenly…"
While Hailey and Joseph came running up late and fretting, I noticed something odd. This was only the stairwell up to a Grade-4 medical facility—and there was a Level 1 mutant here? Ability users were supposed to receive preferential treatment, weren't they? Sera seemed to be thinking along the same lines, staring past the dark ceiling above.
"Stop making a fuss. It's not that bad."
Fortunately Ilena's injuries weren't severe. Blood ran from her arms and legs, but she could still move. I lifted the collapsed ceiling section, and the rest of the team filed through the gap I'd made.
"We should rest. Those wounds need treating."
"I said I'm fine."
"A fair amount of time has already passed, and we're already on the fourth floor. Even at one floor a day, this is quite a rapid pace."
Faced with Sera's usual unyielding judgment, Ilena couldn't dig her heels in any further.
Injuries, though.
My attention drifted naturally toward my power source. She insisted she was fine, but her elbows and knees were completely scraped raw, blood soaking into her clothes. The spots where she'd been slammed against the stair edges were already blooming with blue bruises, the swelling getting worse by the minute. There was the risk of infection, and the scent of blood could draw more mutants—so the fastest, most hygienic method of cleaning it up, leaving no trace behind, was essential for everyone's safety. And come to think of it, the only bodily fluid of Ilena's I'd tasted so far was sweat. Maybe I could collect some entirely new data that hadn't been revealed yet…
"Hey."
"Hm?"
"Thanks for saving me, but staring at me like that is kind of a lot, you know?"
Ilena's words snapped me back to myself. Drawn by the instinct to replenish power and by a scent I'd never encountered before, I'd briefly lost my mind. I jerked my head away—and locked eyes with Sera, standing right beside me.
"……"
She was watching this way in perfect stillness, her expression ten times blanker than usual.