Emerald III

S-21 model, individual name Marks, is a multi-role military doll capable of handling everything from ship operation support to close-combat combat. Equipped with an advanced thinking system, she is an autonomous doll capable of acting based on her own judgment.

As Markus herself has explained, she lacks emotions, yet Shinosuke—the master and partner she serves—has granted her human rights and consistently treats her as a person, even commenting on nonexistent expressions, such as "Markus, don't smile" or "Don't make a discontented face." Nevertheless, Markus herself has determined that serving as Shinosuke's partner, a free-minded merchant, is the most suitable role for her.

Markus, preparing to transfer to the Emerald III with Shinosuke and Milena for a shipboard investigation, was moving cautiously.

Though there should be no survivors, she was armed with a blaster assault rifle and other gear just in case, given the drone footage.

"According to the drone data, the ship's internal environment appears stable. First, I'll enter the vessel to confirm."

Marks decided to board the Emerald III, leaving Shinnosuke and the others behind on Cerberus.

"Got it. Be careful."

"Understood."

Marks recognized the irrationality in Shinnosuke's words.

Even if told to 'be careful,' Marks's thought system always chose the optimal, rational option—there was no need to 'be careful.'

Still, Marks chose to process Shinnosuke's actions and words as 'that kind of thing.'

Marks opened the hatch and entered Emerald III.

"Internal entry confirmed. No abnormalities in air quality. No issues detected with Master's activities."

Just as Marks was about to open the hatch to let Shinnosuke and the others in, the sub-camera monitoring the left and right rear detected an anomaly.

"Left side, 15.2 meters away—detected faint noise caused by weak electromagnetic interference. No danger identified."

Marks opened the hatch and called in Shinnosuke and the others.

Stepping onto Emerald III, Shinnosuke scanned the surrounding environment.

"First, let's head to the bridge."

The ship's master system should contain records of the accident's cause and subsequent events, and ultimately, those records will need to be retrieved. Checking the bridge's condition is therefore our top priority.

There were no abnormalities along the access route to the bridge, but once inside, five crew members' bodies lay scattered across the deck.

Each was found near their assigned station, just as one would expect of crew members.

"...They were trying to restore systems until the very end..."

Milena's eyes, gazing upon the corpses, seemed filled with tenderness toward them.

Meanwhile, Shinosuke and Marks checked the ship's system data.

"There are cold sleep units on board capable of supporting twenty people. Since all twenty units aren't operational, there are no survivors in cryostasis."

"The master system's data remains intact. The last biological activity ceased 74 years, 11 months, and 8 days ago. It seems, as expected, that all crew and passengers have perished."

Marks' report was understandable to both Shinosuke and Milena, yet they couldn't help but remain troubled by the shadow visible in the footage.

The captain wasn't on the bridge, so we went to the captain's quarters and found him there.

The captain lay sprawled on the floor, having fallen from the chair in front of the desk.

On the desk was a terminal, and beside it, a printed diary from the terminal was filed neatly.

Shinosuke picked up the file and began to examine its contents.

In consideration of the possibility of damage to the ship's master system, records are to be preserved not only digitally but also through printed paper documents. September 4, ××××. An anomaly occurred in the ship's navigation system, causing a significant deviation from course. However, system recovery and return to the original route are expected, so the crew is ordered to achieve early restoration and course correction.

September 8. Drifting into the asteroid belt without the system having recovered. Sending out a distress signal. Should have sent out a distress signal as soon as we deviated from course.

September 9. The ship collided with an asteroid. Unable to navigate. No system malfunctions onboard. No injuries. The fact that both crew and passengers remain calm is a relief.

September 15. The vessel ran aground on an asteroid and is being dragged along. After deliberation, it was decided not only to wait for rescue but also to dispatch a shuttlecraft. The task was entrusted to five crew members, including the second-in-command. The vessel was scheduled for a three-month voyage, and while there is enough food and drinking water onboard for six months, rationing will now begin to conserve supplies.

October 22. The rescue vessel has not returned, and there are no signs of assistance. We considered evacuating using the escape pods, but half were damaged in the asteroid collision. Evacuating everyone is impossible. Additionally, due to concerns over the escape pods' range and cargo capacity, we haven't been able to make a decision. This is the first death on board—a senior man, diagnosed by the ship's doctor as having a preexisting heart condition, which led to heart failure caused by stress.

December 1. The evacuation boat shows no sign of returning. We reconsider the option of escaping using the lifeboat. Although we solicit volunteers, far fewer than expected—only 15—step forward, suggesting many understand the risks involved. We decide to launch one lifeboat. Two crew members and 15 passengers depart the main vessel.

January 19. Five more fatalities have occurred by today—two by suicide, three due to frailty from old age. The bodies of the deceased are being stored in the ship's refrigerated hold.

January 29. A lifeboat that was supposed to have evacuated was found drifting in a non-functional state. No response to communications. Unable to provide rescue, we have no choice but to leave it to its fate.

"March 2. The number of those succumbing to weakness is increasing, yet no one is advocating escape. Order within the ship is maintained. We can only express our gratitude to the crew and the priests of the Seegull Holy Nation for their cooperation."

"March 10. My own health is deteriorating rapidly. As captain, I must summon the will to persevere. The number of suicides among the deceased is rising. Moreover, we are unable to recover the bodies, leaving corpses scattered throughout the ship. The situation is horrific."

"March 18. My condition has worsened to the point that even sitting in a chair is painful. If this continues, I will not live to see the ship's fate, leaving behind many crew members and passengers. It is a failure as a captain."

The last printed entry was from March 18, and the terminal only recorded the date March 19.

Perhaps the captain passed away on that March 19.

It's amazing that the survivors managed to stay alive for several months after the captain passed away...

Shinnosuke placed the file left by the captain back onto the desk.

Ultimately, we'll need to recover this file and the captain's terminal as well.

"Alright, we should be able to determine the general outline of the ship's accident using the master system's data and the captain's recorded logs. For now, let's set aside data recovery and focus on searching the interior of the vessel."

When Shinnosuke and Milena stepped out of the captain's cabin, ready to resume their interior search, they froze in place, both instinctively gasping in surprise.

"Wha—?"

"Impossible..."

At the end of the dimly lit corridor, a lone girl stood waiting.