2: Hira-Tora Tsubumi's Port

This is the second story of today.

Imperial Year 2587.

Hira-Tora Tsubumi System, Prime Colony.

The Prime Colony of the Hira-Tora Tsubumi System is shaped like a screw, featuring a hemispherical flat section with a cylinder attached to it.

And on that hemispherical section, a spaceport has been installed for spacecraft to enter and exit the colony, with dozens, even hundreds of vessels of various sizes and shapes lined up in their respective docks.

And right now, I was standing in one of those docks.

"Now then, how should I begin... It's been six years since my birth. One year has passed since I finished my duties at the Seiryō Colony and started my life as a freelance writer, Satā Sētekusu. Having traveled far and wide through the familiar Hira Toratsugumi star system, this is now my first official journey to another star system. I'd really like to include the entire process—how I got here—within the story..."

I pulled out my information terminal and traced my finger across the surface of the tablet-type device, bringing up several pieces of information.

One of the details was the website where I usually submit articles.

The journalist's name was Satu Common Seetekus L. Seiryō—my own name.

A young man with an unremarkable appearance—nothing out of the ordinary, except for slightly toned physique and a bandana around his neck—appeared when I hovered the cursor over the name... in other words, it was my own photo.

Moreover, even after six years since production, my appearance remains unchanged from when I was first made—still looking like a typical 20-something human of the Empire’s standard... Well, considering my name alone makes it obvious that I’m an artificial human, nobody seems to question it.

"Hmm, considering my position and how I evaluate articles, it seems like going through them one by one from the beginning would be best. That way, the goal is to create articles that even people who’ve never left their home planet or colony can enjoy, and inspire them to want to visit someday. That’s definitely the way to go."

Regardless, beneath my name are listed the articles I’ve contributed so far, along with their evaluations.

The articles I've contributed so far mainly cover restaurants and tourist attractions located in the Hira-Trapatsu Gumi star system.

In terms of evaluation, articles written in a way that would seem interesting to someone reading them without prior knowledge, or those written straightforwardly, tend to receive generally high ratings.

Conversely, articles I myself found a bit questionable... well, they're about average.

Respecting readers is a fundamental lesson I learned early on as a writer, and I still believe in it, so it seems best to continue in that direction.

"I still don't get why these kinds of articles keep getting read."

Also, while I personally think some of these pieces aren't well done, articles about times I felt truly in danger or encountered terrible restaurants have ended up doing well financially, regardless of their evaluation.

Maybe they're just interested in knowing about dangerous places beforehand, or something like that.

"Well, whatever. Anyway, I'd better start filling out this blank manuscript. A freelance writer doesn't eat unless they write. I'll stick to the plan I just mentioned..."

Also, muttering to oneself is common when living alone, with no human figures in sight for several meters around—there's no need to worry about it.

It's quite common, and as long as you're not acting suspiciously, other people usually don't pay much attention to it.

" Hmm... Since I'm here, I might as well start by examining the ship's appearance and name."

I turn my gaze toward the spaceship docked at the pier, the one I'll be boarding this time.

Then, I launch the camera app and take a photo of the spaceship.

Also, recent camera apps are quite convenient—they won't launch at all or won't allow taking photos above a certain resolution if permission hasn't been granted.

Of course, there are ways to bypass such restrictions... but that's beyond my reach.

Anyway, the name of the ship I'm boarding this time is the "Tsumebakei."

A interstellar passenger ship connecting the Hira Toratsugumi and Guro Grobeta systems, primarily designed to transport various cargoes rather than humans.

Externally, it resembles a bird that has overeaten to the point of having a distended, plump belly.

It measures about one kilometer in length, with a width and height of several hundred meters each.

Although it is that large, about three-quarters of its size is dedicated to cargo space, with the remainder allocated to living space for crew and passengers.

More specifically, the bulging belly section is used for cargo, while the rest of the ship serves as living quarters.

The coloring is mostly white.

This is naturally required by space navigation regulations, which impose limits on the proportion of dark-colored exteriors that private vessels may use.

After all, outer space is essentially a vast black backdrop, so using bright colors that blend seamlessly into that environment is perfectly natural—especially if there's nothing to feel guilty about.

There are no obvious signs of damage visible to the untrained eye on the exterior of the *Tsumebakei*, and a quick inspection around the propulsion exhaust ports reveals no abnormalities.

It seems to be a well-maintained vessel.

Well, to be honest, that's precisely why I booked a reservation this time—because I know this ship is meticulously maintained.

Still, it's important to point out in the article that boarding a clearly dangerous vessel could genuinely put your life at risk, so I should make sure to mention this basic level of assessment.

"The boarding entrance is... over there, right?"

I watched as large containers were steadily loaded one after another through the open rear cargo hatch, then headed toward the human access point of the *Tsumebakei*.

The boarding entrance for the "Tsumebakei" appears to be located toward the upper part of the living space, with a translucent tube extending from there all the way to the dock.

At the entrance of the tube stood a man resembling a crew member, another man who appeared to be a colony staff member, and an android presumably assisting the staff.

From their demeanor, it seemed they were in the middle of a casual conversation.

"Oops, looks like work time."

"Yeah, you're right."

"Then let's get serious."

"Haha, sorry. We were just chatting."

Noticing us, they turned their attention our way, and I approached the three of them with a slightly sheepish expression.