Deep Space Observatory Defense
"Follow me."
As Hermann started walking, I trailed behind him. Wheeling my chair along, I took in the surroundings of the facility.
Not perched high up like an optical observatory, so the view isn't breathtaking...
Even a high-tech installation nestled in the mountains had its own charm. I could now observe up close the radio telescope I'd glimpsed from afar while battling the defense unit earlier.
"Whoa..."
Hermann glanced at my awestruck expression and kept walking. I followed, mouth agape, unable to close it.
It's huge.
Maybe I hadn't grasped its scale from inside the Nexus back then. The massive parabolic antenna, over ten meters in diameter, was overwhelming just to look at.
They use this to catch faint radio waves from space.
In its shadow, even if you stretched your arms up as high as they could go, you couldn't touch the edge. Only when the antenna's outline faded from view did I lower my gaze from the sky and look ahead again.
It's surprisingly well-maintained, though.
According to Hermann, the place had long been forgotten, slipping into the dustbin of history. Was it thanks to the mysterious force that had occupied it? The facility felt meticulously cared for.
Did those mystery folks remember there's a sky above?
If so, they were pretty idealistic. Or maybe they had no worries about basic survival.
In this world, if you're free from those concerns...
Even megacorporations struggled over their rice bowls. If true, it felt oddly detached from reality, out of place.
While admiring the pristine state of the facility, Hermann spoke up.
"You were always interested in space, weren't you? It's the one human-like spark I saw in your otherwise dry self. Even as a mercenary."
Hermann cleared his throat.
"I suppose I can give you a tour of the facility."
"A tour..."
"People need hobbies to live. Now, let's keep going."
We passed corridors and a few creaky airlocks before arriving at what looked like the central control room.
"An optical observatory would have been ideal, but sadly, no records survived. So this is the next best thing."
"Why an observatory?"
"Come on, isn't it obvious? To see the stars with your own eyes. Nothing beats that."
Hermann glanced at my bandaged right eye.
"Though it might be tough for you. Your vision..."
"The auxiliaries make it manageable now."
Only then did Hermann's gaze shift to the devices on my back. He eyed the metal fittings pressing against the wheelchair's backrest.
"Looks like Arc Angel gear."
"It has an active mode too."
"High-end stuff, huh? Makes sense for a ranked pilot..."
Hermann cleared his throat again and changed the subject.
"Anyway, I keep forgetting. No one would guess you're ranked looking like that. Whatever."
Hermann stepped into the control room, lined with all sorts of machinery. The air inside felt different somehow.
A strange warmth...
As if the equipment had been running just hours ago. Full of vitality.
"From what I've seen, the gear's in near-perfect shape—no major repairs needed. Thanks to the previous occupants' diligent maintenance. Still, paying attention to this old tech... suspicious bunch."
They hadn't just maintained it; they'd used it too. Hermann ran his hand over the dust-free consoles and turned to me.
"You can't stargaze directly, but that should be fine, right?"
"Why ask me?"
"Hm, never mind."
Hermann stroked his beard and looked away.
"These facilities need specialists anyway. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't operate it right away. Experts will arrive in two days. We'll leave it to them."
"Experts?"
For a relic lost to history—did people still learn that stuff?
As expected, Hermann shook his head.
"They'll dig up old data and gather what knowledge they can. They're top technicians; just a bit rusty in this niche. Don't worry."
Self-taught?
I had my doubts, but if Hermann said so, no big deal. I gazed out the large forward window of the control room. A valley blanketed in skeletal, frost-bitten trees stretched below.
No observatory, so this is plan B, huh.
If I were using it myself, yeah—an optical scope for actual stars would beat a radio telescope. Static in your ears versus rings of Saturn or the peanut-shaped Betelgeuse? No contest.
But this visit was just a happy accident—Hermann's goals aligning with my curiosity. No need for more. That'd be greedy. Honestly, this was plenty.
Whatever the method, it's that sensation reaching beyond the sky.
No new contracts lined up anyway. I'd stick around until I saw the radio scope in action. Experts in two days—should cover it.
I finished touring, returned to the mobile hangar, and serviced the Nexus post-battle.
Rabe, a visitor has arrived outside the hangar.
Hm...?
The next day. I'd woken early, disconnected the tubes for my sleep-cycle life-support meds, when SIF spoke in my head. I hauled myself into the wheelchair and checked the outer feed on the console.
Hermann...?
Hermann was approaching the mobile hangar, carrying something. No one else around. Rubbing sleep from my heavy eyes, I wheeled out.
"Food."
"...?"
Hermann handed me a modest bento wrapped in plain cloth. Not a huge portion.
"I have rations..."
"Energy bars and vitamins, right?"
I stayed silent, so he shoved it into my lap.
"No one stays satisfied on that crap. While you're here, even for a short time, eat real food."
"But..."
I looked up at him. No real reason to refuse, so I just nodded. No point straining my voice over nothing.
Rabe, open the bento.
Back in the hangar's living quarters, I unwrapped it: some bread, cheese-like stuff.
A feast compared to your usual fare.
My nutrition was fine. What's the difference?
Rabe, you need to learn basic human preferences. Health isn't just physical—mental matters too...
Lecture mode again. I tuned out SIF while munching the contents.
Tastes about the same.
Well-preserved warmth came through, though.
Around noon. Sitting in the Nexus cockpit, browsing old-era databases.
Prepping for the radio scope, maybe? Kept pulling up stuff like this. Felt like childhood wonder stirring—chest tingling.
Yeah, I used to love this.
Grabbing those space books from Hermann fit the pattern. Didn't realize it then, but now I got it faintly.
[......]
SIF mercifully stayed quiet during my hobby time. Pure, silent peace—haven't had this in forever.
Then—alarm blared. Hermann's urgent comm cut in.
I cracked the hangar hatch, plugged in the neural port. Flash—linked to Hermann's data, sensing the distant Nexus closing in.
"Finally caught up, huh."
In the ELYTRA's cockpit, cruising at high speed, Scarab gripped the controls white-knuckled, grinding his teeth.
"This time... for sure..."
Holed up like a shut-in, repeating simulations hundreds, thousands of times.
Today, here, it would bear fruit.