Regulus: Achoo! Ugh, the dust in here! What, are we inside some kind of vacuum cleaner?
Regulus: Is that why you always wear that fish tank on your head?
Familiar with Regulus's quirks, Ulrich opts for the most efficient form of communication: none.
Ulrich: ...
Regulus: What's got you so quiet? Pulling the "strong and silent" act now?
Ulrich: Here we are.
The site has been utterly neglected. Dust and debris litter every corner of it.
Regulus: Here, as in ...?
Ulrich: The Laplace launch site in Sydney. We've collaborated with the Foundation and the space agency for various projects here.
Regulus: Thanks for the heads-up. I almost thought we'd just barged into some rock star's house.
Ulrich: It will actually take another two years before this place becomes an official launch site.
Regulus: Oh! Yeah, right, we're basically living in the past.
Ulrich: I visited various launch sites to verify the photos—Guiana Space Centre, Plesetsk Cosmodrome—then, I found this place.
Ulrich: Most of its archives were lost in the "Storm," but a small portion of the early records survived.
Ulrich: I left them here with the rest of the files I compiled.
Papers scatter into the air as he rummages through the files.
Ulrich: Damn it! Where did they go?!
The ferrofluid tremors in his tank.
Regulus: Huh?!
Regulus: So, does this mean we can all go home now?
Ulrich: Absolutely not!
Ulrich: Alright, new task: Stay put and don't touch anything. I need to find those files.
Regulus: Ugh, fine.
As Ulrich makes his exit, Regulus scans the room, a glint growing behind her eyes.
Regulus: Oh! Amazing!
Regulus: An old military base, mysterious photos ... Oh, this is going to be juicy!
Regulus: No chance Ulrich is stopping this rockin' pirate from going after treasure, I mean, very, very important files.
Regulus: The hunt is on!
Regulus: Haha! Let's start with what's on this table!
The clinking and clattering of rummaging fills the air, like a string of cheerful musical notes.
Regulus: ♪ ... ♫ ... ♬
Regulus: Oh, I almost forgot! Can't go treasure hunting without some music to rock out to!
123: Turning the knob, she powers up the amplifier.
The world belongs to rock!
The vibrations reach Ulrich, causing the ferrofluid to ripple.
Even the desk is trembling.
Ulrich: Damn it! I forgot to tell her to keep quiet!
???: Squawk!
The screech of a bird pierces through the pumping music.
Ulrich: What's happening? Is this an earthquake?
A few agile black shadows leap around the upper parts of the observation deck.
The tremors free a note pinned to the wall, and it flutters down to the ground.
The handwriting is all too familiar:
"Investigator's Report: Multiple Tripodero attacks on humans have occurred
in the area."
"They seem to regard this abandoned facility as their territory, attacking
any intruders."
"Remember: Keep your movements quiet!!!"
Ulrich
Ulrich: Ah, crap! This is the note I wrote last time I was here!
The ferrofluid ripples violently.
Ulrich: Regulus! Turn off that speaker! Now!
Regulus: ♪ ... ♫ ...
Regulus is too immersed in her treasure-seeking to hear him.
Tripodero: Squawk!
A glob of dark green sludge shoots down from above. Ulrich darts aside, narrowly avoiding the attack.
Ulrich: For flux's sake!
Ulrich: I knew I should have upgraded my memo module!
He looks to the observation deck. There is Regulus, gleefully twisting to the music.
Ulrich: Calm down, Ulrich. You're a leader. It's part of your job to clean up after your team.
He looks over the priceless equipment around him and sighs before ducking through the emergency exit.
The Tripoderos follow in hot pursuit.
COMBAT
Ulrich sends a current through the electronic components around him, creating a cacophony of sounds that sends the Tripoderos scattering.
Tripodero: Squawk!
Ulrich: Flux! FLUX! Finally, it's over!
Ulrich stuffs the last piece of damaged equipment into the recovery bin.
Then, he climbs back through the window. He is visibly drained.
Ulrich: Relax. Don't overheat. You'll have to get used to this if you wanna be a good leader.
Regulus bounces lightly into the room.
Regulus: Ulrich!
Regulus: Look what I found!
She waves her treasure—a hefty stack of documents, signed in bold by Ulrich himself.
Regulus: Ahem. Where's my round of applause?
Regulus: If you're even half a leader, you'll fight your hardest to get a decent salary for such an outstanding employee as myself!
She shoots him a triumphant wink.
Ulrich: Sure.
Regulus: Just one more thing, scientist to scientist—
Regulus gestures toward the still-sparking machines beside Ulrich.
Regulus: You made some pretty cool "electronic music" in that battle. Didn't know you had it in you!
Ulrich: ...
Ulrich lets out a deep sigh, deciding to avoid any further arguments with his team member.
Ulrich: Here are all the files related to the satellite.
Ulrich: Look them over, Regulus.
Regulus: Do we have to go through all this right now?
Regulus: Why? Is there some even more juicy stuff in them?
Ulrich: For you, it might be.
Ulrich: The satellite carries a variety of arcane items. Space seeds, dragon tree resin compasses, obsidian crystals, WFPCs, astronomical spectrometers ...
Ulrich: Even its power source is an arcane record player.
Ulrich: We've made a list of everything that was on it so we can test them against the "Artificial Storm."
Ulrich: The satellite is an archive of the wisdom of the entire human race. It's somehow survived multiple "Storms."
Regulus: What are you going to do with it?
Ulrich: Sadly, a lack of maintenance caused it to plummet to the Earth.
Ulrich: It crashed in your time, 1966.
Regulus: ...!
Regulus's sunglasses slide off her face, but she doesn't even notice.
She grabs the stack of documents and flips to the last page.
"The telescope officially crashed in 2007 in Aldeburgh, England. All onboard instruments were destroyed ... Recovery failed."
"'Regulus Space Telescope' project report: as above."
Ulrich: The telescope project was named after a record that was on the satellite, which also happens to share your name.
Regulus: Regulus!
Regulus holds her backpack tightly to her chest, its pockets full of treasures.
She flips through a series of records, her hands trembling.
Finally, she finds the treasure she is looking for—a record identical to the one depicted in the documents.
It's from the 1966 Aldeburgh "Crater" Music Festival, an accident from the past.
And her all-time favorite.
Regulus: My "little thing"—it was the record on the satellite?
Ulrich: ...!
Ulrich: Yes, that's the one! Wow, you've kept it in great shape!
Regulus: So, this is the key to braving the "Storm"?
Ulrich: It might be. Among several other options.
Regulus: I get it. That's why you wanted me on the "Storm" research team.
Ulrich: Not just that.
Ulrich: I've read the Apeiron Island reports. You demonstrated some serious talent with the Ceres puzzle in that cave, and you've faced more "Storms" than the majority of the Laplace staff.
Ulrich: We're not working together for a couple of research papers. This is about the survival of everything on Earth.
Ulrich: We need all the help we can get, including yours.
Regulus: ...
Regulus falls into an uncharacteristic silence.
Ulrich: Ahem. In fact, Laplace even held a meeting with the Foundation to discuss borrowing your record.
Ulrich: The Foundation suggested we apply for an item transfer order under the "Artificial Storm" project and let the Timekeeper take over the matter.
Ulrich: Some of my colleagues told me that, according to LSCC regulations, lending assets to the Center is mandatory for all staff.
Ulrich: ...
The frequency of the ferrofluid's vibrations is chaotic, like some kind of unsolvable cipher.
Ulrich: But ... alright.
Ulrich: Let me be honest with you. I'm not comfortable with taking your record by force. It's yours, after all. It's your choice what you do with it.
Ulrich: So, here I am, not as your leader, but as myself, hoping we can find a solution that works for both of us.
Regulus: ...
Regulus: Has anyone ever told you that you're terrible at negotiations?
Ulrich: Ah, damn it. I knew it wouldn't be easy.
He angrily knocks his tank with his fist. He is so close to the record he's been searching for.
The ferrofluid ripples into a subtle arc.
Regulus: ...
Regulus: Go ahead, Mr. Ulrich. Take it.
Regulus: Before I change my mind.
Regulus's expression has never been so serious.
Ulrich: Y-You're willingly giving it over to the "Artificial Storm" project?
His carefully prepared arguments vanish in a moment.
Regulus: For a cause even greater than rock music? Absolutely!
Regulus: But just to be clear: I'm only lending it to Laplace. You have to give it back when you're done!
Regulus: It's the only copy in the world and the future centerpiece of the Regulus Museum!
Ulrich: Thank you, Researcher Regulus. Thank you so much!
Ulrich: I was gearing up for a much tougher talk. I even applied for additional funding and a month's leave to offer you as leverage. Well, I suppose I won't have to use it after all.
Regulus freezes.
Regulus: AH! WHAT?!
The suitcase is in its usual harmony.
Its occupants go about their business, each busying themselves in their own little worlds.
???: Timekeeper?
Vertin: Sonetto? What's the rush?
Sonetto: I just wanted to remind you that our vacation in Australia is over.
Sonetto: If you need any help packing, please let me know.
She wipes the sweat from her forehead. Then, she remembers something.
Sonetto: Oh, and I have something for you.
She hands her a colorful piece of paper.
Vertin: Huh?
Sonetto: Regulus asked me to pass these out. She won them at a sailaway party.
Sonetto: She said they're "highly valuable, the finest choice for any collection," if I recall correctly.
Vertin: Looks like an ordinary flyer to me.
Sonetto: I've already inspected them.
Sonetto: They're just advertisements with a handwritten signature in the corner and some completely over-the-top promises.
Sonetto: Regulus told me it's a trick that advertisers use. They use fancy words to catch people's eyes and make it seem more grand.
Sonetto: Phrases like "an opulent odyssey upon the boundless sea," "tour the illustrious Pacific coast," "a veritable feast of harmonic reverie," "rare and fortuitous seasonal discount," and "facilities unimaginable in their splendor" ...
Sonetto: Hmm. What's this on the back?
Sonetto: Nor happiness, nor harmony, nor fame,
Sonetto: Nor pride, nor strength, nor skill in arms or arts.
Vertin: ...!
Those familiar words hit like a tidal wave.
123
Vertin: Before a cruel whip ...
Man who man would be,
Must rule the empire of himself; in it must be supreme, establishing his throne ...
On vanquished will; quelling the challenges of hopes and fears ...
Being himself alone.
She recoils in shock.
The flyer falls to the ground.
Sonetto: ...!
Sonetto: Is everything alright, Timekeeper?
This is a poem she once knew intimately.
One that had been held by countless young hands and flowed gently through equally young voices.
In the tree hollow, in the square, in the outdoors.
Vertin: ...
Vertin: Sonetto, change of plan.
Vertin: We need to contact the Foundation. Now.