Sotheby: Mr. aliEn T, I'm back—
Sotheby: Huh? Mr. aliEn T?
Sotheby: Are you there?
Sotheby: Did someone call him away? What a shame! He was so looking forward to tasting my Unicorn Belly Button Honey Butter Special.
Sotheby: But it makes sense that someone so busy and sought-after can't wait around! I must have missed him because I chatted for so long with Ms. Bunny on the way over.
Sotheby: But that's alright; I have the ingredients ready! Next time I see him, he can enjoy it freshly brewed!
Ms. Sotheby is enthusiastic, friendly, and well-liked.
But, of course, not everyone sees her that way.
Some see her as a noisy, brash, terrifying nightmare.
aliEn T: ... Thank goodness, she finally left.
aliEn T, for instance.
aliEn T: It's a good thing I'm agile; otherwise, everything would've been ruined. That girl is as noisy as a nest of sparrows, no ... Worse.
aliEn T: Tomorrow it'll be Chuckling Bird Egg Liqueur and Spider Jump Juice, and the next day it'll be Chocolate Fudge With Lion's Mane Hair. Each encounter is more terrifying than the last, but she just keeps on getting happier—
aliEn T: I need to contact my home planet as soon as possible. Since that accursed "Storm," all my communications have been blocked. I have to figure out a way; I just have to ...
aliEn T: Wah—! Oh, no, it's—
aliEn T: …
aliEn T: … Hello.
T-11002.1: You don't look very happy, old friend. Does this have anything to do with the fact that your work summary has been vacant for sixteen whole interstellar weeks?
aliEn T: My machine broke. It doesn't work here. I lost communication.
T-11002.1: But I'm talking to you right now ...
aliEn T: Now—it works! Yes! It works again.
T-11002.1: Ha ... In any case, I'll buy your excuse. We don't have time for small talk right now.
aliEn T: It's not an excuse! Look what's become of my communication machine!
T-11002.1: The spacecraft and communication devices we prepared for the Interstellar Survey Program are the best available. You know that very well.
T-11002.1: They utilize the latest technology and contain the most expensive energy cores in the galaxy. They even shimmer in the night.
aliEn T: Not my machine! Not at all. You gave me a stinking antique—it's even decorated in the style of the last astrological era!
T-11002.1: Oh, alright, fine. Quit complaining, E-0, old pal.
aliEn T: I'm not your "pal." Don't call me that!
aliEn T: If you're just here to spout nonsense, find someone else to talk to. I'm hanging up.
T-11002.1: Still as emotional as ever. That's exactly why you'll never be a regional manager.
T-11002.1: Don't rush to cut me off. I bring you good news. If you do well, this will be your last mission as an envoy to the Blue Planet.
T-11002.1: Think of your wife and children. They miss you a lot.
aliEn T: I understand. Go ahead. Let's get this over with. I don't want to look at your ugly face for another second.
T-11002.1 shrugs noncommittally, if it is indeed possible to shrug without shoulders.
T-11002.1: An adult. This time, we need an adult.
T-11002.1: Of course, we could also consider a teenager, but they should at least look like an adult.
T-11002.1: The Wide Galaxy Survey Plan is going smoothly. At 2.1 solar weeks, our investigators found a planet with a 91% similarity to the Blue Planet, but there's not a single lifeform there.
T-11002.1: Or, more accurately, no humans.
T-11002.1: Sentient pizzas live there, just like the ones on the Blue Planet. They've developed a civilization, even technology and society, and they worship humans as deities.
aliEn T: ... How stupid.
T-11002.1: Indeed. They are innocent and adorable. We, on the other hand, are cunning and evil.
T-11002.1: Once you've brought back a human, we will deliver unto those little savory cheese disks a "god," a god they've never seen but devoutly believe in.
aliEn T: And then occupy their planet?
T-11002.1: And then occupy their planet.
Sotheby: Ah, Mr. aliEn T!
X: Oh, be careful, miss.
Oliver Fog: … Goodness, she has a lot of energy.
Mondlicht: So fast ... pant, pant ... She runs faster than a wolf, even.
Mondlicht: … I see.
Mondlicht: Is there something they're trying to escape?
X: Hm—perhaps there is. Like social dance lessons or private tutoring?
Oliver Fog: Or perhaps it's greedy capitalists chasing them down to work overtime.
Oliver Fog: Did you know that some factory owners even add exhilarating potions to their cafeteria meals?
Oliver Fog: I say, the Workers' Union exists precisely for this kind of thing! Someone has to stand up and stop them—!
X: Hang on. It looks like we're losing her.
Sotheby: Ah!!! Mr. aliEn T—!!!
aliEn T: Bzz, bzz bzz … Brr … Brr brr … Boom …
Mondlicht: Mr. aliEn T …?
X: Uh oh, he doesn't look so good.
X: Unicorn hoof and ... honey dirt? What did you give him?
Sotheby: It's just ... It's just this new potion I invented that makes you grow a beard ...
aliEn T: ... Bzz bzz, bzz ... Click click ...
X: He's overheating. Gosh, his temperature's high. With this much heat, you could fry a side of bacon on him.
Sotheby: D-don't worry ... I'll save you, Mr. aliEn T!
Sotheby: The formula for Lockes' Restorative Potion is vanilla root, sage ... and ... and ...
X: According to your notes, it's two vanilla roots and three bunches of sage, no more. Next, add ... six phoenix feathers and three bottles of ... unicorn tears?
Oliver Fog: I wholeheartedly agree.
Sotheby: Oh, thank you so much. Please keep reading it to me!
Sotheby: I have lots of materials on hand; they should be enough to make the potion!
aliEn T: Now is my chance ... They haven't noticed me. I'll just gently push the desk—
Sotheby: Oh—!
Sotheby: My potion! My cauldron!
Sotheby: Oh! Okay!
Mondlicht: ... I can't see through the smoke. This is dangerous.
Oliver Fog: I knew I shouldn't have stayed to watch the fun ... Whether you're looking for it or not, overtime will find you.
Oliver Fog: Let me through, everyone. I'll have this cleaned up in no time ...
X: Quiet, look.
Oliver Fog: Huh? ... What's he doing?
aliEn T: Great, it worked!
aliEn T: Tipping over the cauldron ... What a brilliant plan! No one can see me now!
aliEn T departs eagerly, full of confidence.
Clearly, he has not taken careful stock of who is at the scene. Otherwise, he would have noticed the presence of Oliver Fog, someone most adept at dealing with smoke.
Oliver Fog: ... Ha.
X: Shh.
X: We're tracking someone. Please act like a "tracker."
Oliver Fog: I knew I shouldn't have stayed ...
Oliver Fog: No one asked for your input.
X: It's too late!~
X: At least you've learned two important lessons from this—
X: One: Stay away from excitement.
X: Two: Always make sure to look behind you—haha!
X keeps his voice down but can't conceal his amusement as he leads his tracking team forward.
Behind him, Mondlicht steps out of the shadows, frowning at their backs.
Mondlicht: How odd ... Smoke, strange potions ...
Mondlicht: First Mr. aliEn T, now the lot of them. Where is everyone going?
Mondlicht: Something like this happened in the village once. Could those filthy "Wolves" have followed us here too ...?
aliEn T: Up one more level, and I should be able to get out ...
aliEn T: I'll make my way to the attic window and jump. It's that simple!
aliEn T: Although I've never been outside, the rabbit-eared girl in charge of purchasing told me that—
aliEn T: Here we are.
aliEn T: No one noticed me at all. What an ingenious plan! Haha! I'll be able to go home soon and see my dear family and friends!
After aliEn T leaves, X, who has been standing behind the attic door, pokes his head out.
X: What a surprise.
Oliver Fog: What do you mean?
X: You two were making so much noise. I'm surprised he didn't notice we were following him.
Oliver Fog: Ah, yes ... My sincerest apologies for that.
Oliver Fog: Vertin?!
X: It's true. Fog's voice was louder. I'm sorry for blaming you, Vertin.
Oliver Fog: ... You ... I ... What kind of people have I got mixed up with? It's impossible to predict what you'll do next ...
X: You have to face reality, my friend. That little metal gentleman is going to get away.
X: Enough chit-chat. Ladies and gentlemen of the tracking team, we must pick up the pace!
