Whispers from the Wreckage

The Fallen Angel mobile hangar kept flying steadily toward its destination. According to the intel, it was just an empty highland plateau. No registered corporate facilities or military forces in the area.

So when Rinne sent the first such alert, I was surprised.

Something really is there, huh.

If it was some unregistered anti-corporate faction, it made sense that the intel wouldn't have it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠listed. But if it was corporate...

Probably classified if it's not on the networks.

This was a problem. No matter what faction it was, it meant military forces were dug in along our path.

Rinne said that and adjusted the course, but honestly, I didn't think we'd make it to the destination. A corporation would block us anyway.

A few more hours passed.

Three times already, we'd spotted forces along the route and changed path. Thanks to that, we were taking a massive detour from the original plan.

We're steadily closing in, at least.

But who knew when they'd fully blockade us? If the area around the destination was crawling with troops, we'd have no choice but to abort and head back—or go full stealth infiltration.

But for stealth play...

Even aircraft take special measures for stealth. No way a Nexus wouldn't have countermeasures. In-game, most of that stuff was baked into the armor materials.

"Hm."

Countries that hadn't invested specifically in armor materials since deploying their Nexus wouldn't have it. Pointing at myself.

I was resigned to turning back if we hit a wall when—

"What?"

Fortunately, the coordinates were pretty far from their main base. Not completely isolated, but close enough to bump noses if we tripped—just outside most radar range.

I figured there were troops at the coordinates because it was a defended site... but no?

Then what were those forces guarding?

As I pondered that, Rinne spoke up again.

"Arc Angel."

The corporation Mastema had belonged to. What was this message about? Some internal leak? Trying to expose corporate secrets?

Why send it to me, though?

There had to be better options. Anti-corporate groups, or rival corps hostile to Arc Angel Europe.

Those would've been way better for stirring up trouble.

Couldn't figure out the intent. Anyway, the mobile hangar pressed on steadfastly, cutting through enemy territory toward the destination.

Whooooosh—

The highland plateau stretched out wide open in every direction. If it weren't nighttime...

And if those distant searchlights reached this far...

Arc Angel probably would've spotted us. Even if (and I hated being judged, but) I was on good terms with their upper echelons.

Expose a classified site to outsiders? They'd waste no time killing us.

Anyway.

I gazed at the sky beyond the horizon. For some reason, no clouds tonight—crystal clear weather showing a pristine sky.

Uncomfortable...

My eyes weren't great, so I was guessing from colors alone, but it was definitely brighter than the night skies I'd seen before. Something special about this plateau?

"Mm..."

I grumbled, cursing my hazy vision, then suddenly climbed into the Nexus and ordered Rinne to launch.

"It's fine. Not going to fight."

Rinne stayed silent for a bit before finally opening the hatch.

The voice echoed inside the cockpit. It controlled the mobile hangar, but at its core, it was a Nexus assist program.

Followed me just to nag.

I didn't say anything and dropped down. Since high output might get us spotted, I kept boosters minimal.

Vroooom—

I powered up the Nexus quietly, merging with it and lifting my sharpened senses to the sky.

"......"

Stars pouring down like a flood. Things my cloudy vision had missed now filled my eyes.

Last clear sky was daytime—blue expanse only. But at night...

Whoa...

A gasp slipped out unbidden. My numb body didn't leak emotions easily, but my mouth was probably hanging open like an idiot.

Twinkling brightly against the dark night sky—tiny stars.

Rinne stayed quiet too, no nagging. Making allowances for my stargazing?

Feels like real space.

Like the blue sky by day. Or maybe even more than my previous life, where city light pollution hid the star ocean longer. In this life, I'd only seen it in books borrowed from Hermann.

Come to think of it, I never got the title.

First encountered with bad eyes. Should've asked Hermann.

Thump thump.

Even this sluggish body felt my heart pounding, pulsing hard enough for my chest to notice.

Yeah.

I was excited. About the unknown, space. That vast emptiness with nothing in it.

Beyond it—no people, no corporations. None of what I knew.

For some reason, that opened up my chest, made it feel free.

I spent a good while admiring tonight's exceptionally clear night sky.

After Rinne's warning, I headed back. Nothing special happened, but it felt like a pretty enjoyable moment in this life.

Hm, but.

Back in the hangar, I lay on the stiff mattress, hand on my chest.

My mind was sated from all that sky, all that space. Should be fulfilled, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but... this nagging emptiness.

Dunno.

Felt like I'd forgotten something. Was the night sky just a fleeting vista—gone after one look?

Back then, a sight like this would've made me... a bit more... dream something dreamlike.

Like chasing a dream upon waking—fuzzy, within reach but not quite.

No need to dwell.

I felt a headache coming on, shrugged it off cleanly, and went to sleep. We'd arrive around dawn.

Autopilot blared noisily upon arrival. Soaked in cold sweat, I dragged myself up, hauled drug packs and synthetic blood bags, and boarded the Nexus.

"Same as always..."

Waking up feeble was routine. With my wrecked circulatory system and all, being healthy would be weirder.

I dropped from the hangar amid Rinne's usual nagging.

Whoosh!

No skin sensation, but Nexus sensors fed me a cool breeze feeling. Dumbly, I sucked in a big breath in the cockpit like gulping fresh air.

"Let's go."

Glancing back, a glow—likely the Arc Angel camp. Faint light hugging the horizon. Dimmer than before.

Still like stadium lights, though.

No way their scans reached here. Path was short since autopilot had already hit the spot.

Three minutes in, I reached the exact coordinates—down to decimal precision, not just rough lat-long.

"This is..."

Mastema's sent coordinates. What I found was like a small blast crater. Dead center: a familiar silhouette.

Nexus...?

No. Nexus are manned. This was unmanned. Sleek hydrodynamic shape—like a submarine or spaceship.

Watchdog...

The mystery unit I'd encountered often with Hermann. Identical.

But differences too.

Setting aside the massive damage making it inoperable forever—it felt like a prototype. Unbalanced, crude somehow. Refined yet... ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠outdated vibe.

So why's this here?

Why'd Mastema send these coords?

And if Arc Angel's around... maybe...

Impressions from the Fallen Angel. Similar to these mystery units. Maybe their camp had more, and Arc Angel was reverse-engineering them...

Vrrrrm—

"...!"

A generator whine from ahead snapped me out. I flinched.

Voice over comms. Source: no doubt the unit ahead.

And that voice shocked me more than the junker reactivating.

Because it was Mastema's voice.

The man I'd crushed with these very hands. Should've been dead and gone.