Noisy 3552

Recently, Blue Goblet has begun inviting me into its personal space.

A stark contrast to the briefing sessions held in total darkness. Within the domain crafted by Blue Goblet, a continental overview of Io’s operational theater and associated data float in midair, glowing with blue phosphorescence.

‘That perception is inaccurate.

This room processes information according to Agent Io’s cognitive capacity.’

‘So you’re saying you’ve remodeled it for me?’

‘Correct. Future enhancements to your performance will see Blue Goblet allocate additional resources.’

‘Looks like I’m a promising prospect. Me too.’

The objective of this immersion was accessing the Index.

The world view was roughly familiar, and the story, while not substantially different from classic sci-fi, carried a depth of understanding that made the idea of “preparation, review” seem unnecessary—yet something still nagged at the edge of attention.

It was the character’s behavior outside of Io’s gameplay.

—You may freely select the data you need. Audio can be output as text.

But the data also includes miscellaneous information unrelated to our operational objectives. You’re free to browse, though time is limited.

Should you require it, Blue Goblet can supplement the data.

That’s all. No immediate threats requiring intervention have been detected.

Proceed as you wish. “This sea of light is your private garden.”

—Clever wording. I like it.

This game does have aspects resembling a character-driven title.

The flaw lies in how even distinctive characters can fall too easily, depending on the flow of combat.

— Pick someone arbitrary and move on. A new one. — Hmm? Anomaly in the log timestamp?

A file randomly selected from the list.

Blue Goblet floats in midair.

— Classified as casual conversation. Low importance, presumed.

— So if it's not important, is everything else worthless?

— No. Even if your actions appear inefficient, you remain an exceptionally proficient unit surpassing Blue Goblet’s calculations.

— Blue Goblet does not question your actions.

——

—— Terminal user, Polatov Fourth Squad (shared ID)

—— Anomaly in log timestamp

The armored vehicle’s monitor displays a grainy, noisy image.

Noiman is adding armor plating to the vehicle’s frame.

— Noiman, connected?

— Hex, you’re right on time. Grab the Plahon tool.

Increased armor? Shouldn’t you have fixed the camera?

It’s already done. — There’s interference again. The armor configuration isn’t compatible.

Catalog says it should work.

It’s a Nikid product. That’s not unusual.

Ah, right. Means it’s my specialty then.

Lowering the armor plate, Hex approaches the chassis while activating the plasma cutter.

Cutting through the interference. Welding on the mounting brackets for the additional plate.

Sparks fly.

But where the hell did Sergeant find something like this?

Heard it came from a deserted outpost. Won’t tell me the details.

— Hey Hex, you’re off by 1.5 millimeters from the installation point.

We’re not robots. That kind of precision isn’t possible. — I’ll modify the bracket instead.

Longtime acquaintance, but it still strikes me as odd that you passed through the First Engineering Training Course.

I’ve said it before. The Rodvess School doesn’t train engineers.

It trains combat engineers. — Good. Done.

Hex tossed the tool aside and sat down on the work sheet now sprawled across the floor.

Neumann quickly assembled the components.

Pax appeared.

Pax, just you? Where are the others?

They’re watching a movie at Drees’s place. Figured the two of you might want to join.

Hugh, what’s the title? Something like “Mile High Club”?

Hex, Paxton’s too young for that.

...? What’s that “something club” you’re talking about?

Ha. I’ll tell you another time.

Pax watched Neumann’s work with quiet interest.

Without turning, Neumann asked.

Paxton, how are the others doing?

Status?... Everyone’s improved significantly.

But not because they’re fine.... Something’s off with their senses.

... I see. I want to reach Oxanun as soon as possible. Everyone’s at their limit.

This work will take time. I’ll gather the others.

Stop. Let them rest. We’re enough here.

Paxton, you’re coming too. You’ll regret missing the TV buzz.

Neumann speaks with sharp authority. Pax obeys, though hesitant.

Title’s “Papies.” Come quickly, both of you.

Hex waves hand lightly. Neumann doesn’t turn.

Papies... a home comedy. Perfect for them right now.

Fletcher’s existence is lucky.

I’m a realist, but even I want to escape reality sometimes.

Same here. Fighting too seriously starts to mess with your head.

— Break’s long enough. Time to pitch in.

Hex, guided by Neumann, manipulates a small machine.

The armored panel lifts again. Both begin the installation simultaneously from opposite sides.

— Corporal and squad leader will be back from recon soon.

— We’ll get hammered if the job isn’t done.

— Then it’s your fault.

— Don’t worry. I’ll make up for lost time. Even if we’re four-man, it’ll be over in a blink.

— Corporal too, in numbers?

— You saw him last time. His knowledge rivals any engineer’s.

— True. Not just our field. Medicine, chemistry, electronics too.

— He said he learned it all for war.

— I think he’s just taken it all too seriously.

— Still saying that? What’re you scared of?

He may be beyond human, but talk to him and you’ll find he’s ten times more entertaining than you.

Entertaining? …… Can’t imagine that. The only time he cracks a joke is when he’s holding a gun.

The moment combat starts, the atmosphere shifts instantly. Always… almost as if he’s smirking faintly.

You’re seriously ill, Neumann. …… No choice, I’ll tell you something important I pulled from the corporal.

What is it?

He seems only interested in hunting lizards, but apparently has a decent taste in erotic literature.

………… I see.

What’s with that reaction? It’s serious.

—

“Goblet, what did your avatar discuss with Hex?”

“Blue Goblet has no knowledge of that matter, and no log exists.”

“Is that so. …… Still, it’s slightly concerning. Erotic literature.”

“If necessary, I can collect the data.”

“No, don’t bother.”

Io silently prayed his own avatar wasn’t burdened with such a peculiar preference.

No, even a peculiar preference is acceptable. Personal freedom, after all.

Still, he silently prayed the character in question wasn’t one to broadcast such things openly.

——

——Terminal user, Natalie Vicker

——May 4, 09:36 PM Record

‘Captain Creeke, about that request from earlier…’

‘Hold on a moment, Miss Natalie.’

Creeke manipulating the Little Lady, her connector now linked to the terminal.

‘Listen, Shorty, this is a stealth op.

You and Alessa will secure enough chocolate for the full complement. Pax’s already been briefed.

Infiltrate the Mr. Drees screening. Distribute it to each operative. Make them happy.

Ransack the cottage too. Might find some enjoyable gear left behind. After all, this is a resort.

Pickup comes tomorrow. Direct flight to Oxanun—safest route possible. Don’t hold back.’

Fufu, leave some for me too. Got it—especially that Peaberry chocolate, I’m eating it no matter what.

Alright, operation code “Choco Rush,” initiate!

Yes, ma’am! Ooh-yeah! Get down to business!

No mercy! Drown the bastards in a sea of sugar and cocoa!

Crouke turns back with an exaggerated cough.

Huhm… ah, so, your business, perhaps…

…Hey, Lieutenant, I’ve recorded that exchange.

What? ……That transmission was classified military intelligence. Delete it immediately.

Such a waste.

Miss Natalie, I’m not asking. You’ll understand, I’m sure.

Crouke inches closer.

Got it, got it. I understand. …Back to business.

Crouke leans back against the comms unit, visibly relieved.

About the Colaf virus treatment, right.

Nothing moving at all. Government press releases say nothing. No information reaching my sources either.

The existence of the treatment seems deliberately concealed.

…………I see. Thank you, Miss Natalie.

Why would a lieutenant possibly know?

Unfounded speculation is easy enough to make.

My vision shifts. I stand beside Crouke. Looking down at her.

According to Io, mass production should’ve been possible immediately using the data and samples Sinclair secured—but it hasn’t worked out.

If numbers are insufficient, internal competition for shares will erupt. Controlling information is natural to prevent chaos.

……Even if that weren’t the case.

Even if?

Even if production of the treatment were already underway.

Then the military would have no choice but to protect the infected.

How many civilians are still stranded on the Colaf continent right now, trying to escape?

And how many of them are infected, really.

The military won’t have the resources to resolve them, but that won’t satisfy public sentiment.

Crouk looked up at the sky. A canopy of stars.

‘Currently, we’re operating under unauthorized use of classified materiel. No regrets.’

‘There was no alternative.’

‘I hoped the treatment would be distributed without issue. Maybe that was too much to expect.’

Natalie’s sigh.

‘Let’s stop here. Right now, survival is all that matters.

It’s fine, Lieutenant. Even if you’re blamed, I’ll fix it—right here, with this camera.’

They managed a weak smile at each other when a transmission arrived for Little Lady.

‘What is it, Shorty? Something wrong?’

‘Lieutenant! Alessa’s run off again! Pete Berry’s chocolate—there’s nothing left!’

‘What?! How could this happen with you around?’

Cruke’s face darkens with despair in seconds.

—Sorry, Lieutenant… I looked away for just a moment.

Alessa’s been captured.

—You can’t… I’ll interrogate her myself. I’ll hand her over to the disciplinary board!

—Form a committee, Shorty. Besides us, there’s only Pax and Michelle.

—The sergeants? They’ll be back soon, right?

—They’re useless! Too soft on children!

Alessa… you’re cleaning every toilet in Oxanun!

Cruke pants heavily. Cuts the comms, yanks the connector out with force.

—Hey, Lieutenant.

—Sorry, Miss Natalie. I have an emergency.

—It’s already recorded.

Cruke lunges forward.

—Didn’t I say it was a matter of military secrecy, Miss Natalie?

—But it’s a waste… a—wait, wait, hold on—!

The feed cuts out.

――

—Looks like you're enjoying yourself quite a bit.

An evasion maneuver attributed to current conditions.

Or perhaps the restraint snapped just as escape came into view.

—Turned out to be just empty hype.

The rendezvous with Moimisuka failed, but this operation is nearing success.

Goblet, do you have no information regarding the treatment drug?

Response: YES. Data collection will proceed if required.

Requested.

Oh? This…?

Io sifts through a vast array of files, isolating one with a noteworthy title.

――

Terminal user, Squad 3552 (Shared ID)

— Extracted from May 1, 04:56 AM

Title To Io-200

Sergeant—anything?

—Michelle, we’re on reconnaissance, not shopping.

Please—this is important.

Kooli would be pleased, no doubt.

Respect rank. She is a lieutenant—second class.

I'm four years older than you—I should be the one looking after you.

—Teaching you an emergency comms code was a mistake.

Never thought it’d be used like this.

No need to get so angry.

Right? Either a Kaulpturea or someone smelling of Ilionia flowers.

—I don’t know. Never cared for perfume.

We haven’t even showered properly.

Unbelievable. You’re past that age.

—True. Never expected someone to care about perfume in a situation where we could be discovered by Weedran at any moment.

I’ve heard enough of that line.

Anyway, please. I’ll make it up to you somehow.

—Not that I lack soldier’s discipline. Just not the kind to pull something from a child.

I understand you won’t give up. I’ll look as hard as I can.

Outstanding! My squad’s savior indeed!

—Do not use this code except in an actual emergency.

High-intensity transmission. Zero chance of detection by the enemy.

――

Ah—what is it.

What is it?

Not much of anything—just idle chatter. Yet somehow...

This avatar seems to be struggling as well.

Still a difficult situation.

No, I get that—but that's not the point.

—Suspected evasion behavior toward the current state.

Heard that line just a moment ago.

Io continued browsing. The avatar was far more rigid than imagined.

Serious and honest. Possesses strong combat drive, never yields to fear. Yet when thrust into battle, remains remarkably calm.

A tough guy straight out of a painting. His heroic sacrifice was certainly boosting the morale of unit 3552.

Perhaps I should have stopped it sooner.

Knowing a character's personality too well can make immersion harder.

Extracting a bullet without anesthesia—this one’s a real piece of work.

Something necessary when required.

—Hmm, quite the scholar, aren’t you.

Blue Goblet continues to restore the auxiliary brain.

Necessary knowledge is updated as required

Wider avatar support, huh? That’s something to look forward to.

Any new skills?

……The accuracy of the "Hungering Jackal" continues to improve.

Your five senses will detect the enemy before a radar can.

Calling it flavor text is pushing it.

Ioh cackles. Goblet falls silent, then offers a polite smile—mechanical, rehearsed.

—An AI with high learning motivation. Even the smile is calculated.

Analyzing my emotions, are you?

Goblet continues analyzing you to win your favor.

"Ha, that phrasing is kind of creepy."

Like a stalker.

Io doesn't say it aloud—can't answer when asked what it means.

A sudden picon, electronic chime.

A new file has been added.

Blue Goblet hovers, picks up the file.

"Message from unidentified terminal. High priority suspected.

Code: Charger."

Charger. That name rings a bell.

Event trigger. Io scrolls through the entries roughly.

"Io-200. Reaper was taken care of. I owe you.

But before repaying that debt, I have one more request. A request to join the operation."

Our Syndicate Assault Team holds authorized clearance to requisition equipment and personnel for mission requirements.

You’ll owe me nothing if you do this. Deadline for reply: one hour.

Sergeant Io, lend me your strength.’

‘Charger’s intent, operational details remain unknown.

I leave the decision to you. In any scenario, Blue Goblet will provide combat support.

Resume intervention in Sitalskia?’

Io verified the user interface. Timing was suboptimal. Other matters required attention.

Yet, the nature of a gamer. The terrifying allure of sacrificing one’s life for the sake of a game.

‘Answer is YES. A blessing kiss, Goddess.’

Blue Goblet brushed Io’s cheek, trailing a blue afterglow.