I had not left the facility for an extended period even once on this planet. Why? What had happened when I left the facility on previous assignments? Leaving the facility didn't translate into a bonus on my paycheck. No one cared what the resource collector was doing as long as the resources kept coming in.
My previous facility was set up on a desert planet. Thankfully, the Space Archaeology & Heritage Preservation Agency and the Galactic Environmental Protection & Resource Management Agency had granted me limitless authority on that planet. Neither the planet's nature nor its creatures held any significance. So, I would sit in the cockpit of my starship, which had been converted into a facility, occasionally monitoring the excavation area with the drones I flew. Whenever a creature dared to attack the excavation area, I would dispatch missiles from my facility and shred them to pieces. I had made staying within the facility a habit ever since.
But today, I had to abandon the facility to bring back an alien woman I'd probably kicked out months ago: Alora. The location Alora had indicated wasn't far; in fact, it would only take a few hours to get there with a vehicle. But this planet's goddamned chaotic nature prevented us from using any means of transport. "Well, what happened to your flying vehicles, Aldo?" I hear you ask. Using flying vehicles generally required authorization from HQ. Fabricating a believable scenario for HQ felt harder right now than walking to the location. That's because they loved to inspect everything in minute detail. By "they," I mean my brother Lucius and his team.
I decided not to call my brother Lucius until I had a good bargaining chip. Ah… Ilya, she really had told the truth. My brother Lucius had found out about my alien lady friends. I was attached to them, and if I didn't want to lose them, I either had to make my brother forget about them—which seemed unlikely—or make him accept them. My current plan was this: I would manage the facility so well that my brother would be utterly stunned. When he asked how I pulled it off, I would tell him it was all thanks to my alien companions.
Before embarking on a long journey, Velsil had prepared my backpack with the help of her robot friends. I had persuaded Ilya to look after the facility while I was gone. After all, I was leaving to fulfill her request, so Ilya had accepted. I had given Ilya a holographic communicator. Through that device, she would contact me via satellite, no matter where I was. But the most crucial task before leaving was convincing Goma to come with me.
Goma's room was the large chamber one floor below mine, formerly used as an artificial field. I had visited Goma's room many times. Why? Because the room was spacious and had excellent ventilation, making it perfect for a great barbecue. Goma and I had gotten drunk and grilled meat there many times.
As the door to the room opened, cool air hit my face. I shielded my eyes from the artificial sun and put on my hat. Before me lay a vast field. One section was a tomato field, another lettuce, another potatoes, and another wheat. Many other fruits and vegetables were cultivated in that gigantic field.
I stepped onto the artificial soil and walked toward the field. I wondered where Goma might be. I raised my hands and yelled: "Goma!"
Pocket-sized robots, flying with propellers above their heads, constantly zipped over the field. They were always monitoring the crops, harvesting those that were ready and dropping them through a small opening in the wall. Conveyors inside those openings transported the harvest to the chef's storage downstairs. The robots continued to hover around, seemingly deaf to my shouts. I entered deeper into the field and yelled one more time: "Goma, where are you?"
Just then, a scarecrow-like robot in the wheat section looked at me. It had a metal hat resembling a straw hat on its head. It had long, knife-like hands and stood on a single wooden stake. Its upper body resembled a scarecrow, but it had no lower body.
The moment I took another step into the field, the Scarecrow raised its hands and shouted, "Hey!" to get my attention. At that moment, a small hole opened in the metal ceiling painted like the sky, and hooks launched from it, grabbing the Scarecrow and lifting it into the air. The Scarecrow flew over to me using the metal hooks and stopped. I, however, continued walking into the field, unconcerned.
"Master Weisshafen, what a sublime surprise," it said, yet its voice held more weariness than gratitude. "I see you've once again violated the rules by entering the field and are crushing potential harvest with your feet. How delightful..."
"Is something wrong, Scarecrow?"
"Absolutely nothing is wrong, Sir," the Scarecrow replied. "If you wished to have a barbecue, we've moved our grilling area outside the field. All you had to do was turn left upon entering the door."
"I'm looking for Goma, Scarecrow."
"Goma?" The Scarecrow suddenly ascended into the air: "Did that accursed woman enter the field again?" It hovered for a while, scanning the surroundings. Then, it suddenly flew down and landed abruptly at a spot in the field, pulling one of the fence boards along with it as it descended.
What I saw was the Scarecrow repeatedly slamming the wooden stick in its hand, shouting, "That blasted woman!" The sound of the wood hitting something echoed as the Scarecrow continued to curse: "How many times have I told you not to enter this field! Rule-breaking, barbarian woman!"
"Hey! Don't hit me!"
"Get out of here!" the Scarecrow yelled, continuing to slam the wooden stick repeatedly. "Go away, you filthy barbarian! Filthy looter! Filthy woman!"
Just then, my eyes caught Goma straightening up amidst the crops. Goma stood and punched the Scarecrow's stick. The wood shattered from the blow, but the Scarecrow didn't seem bothered about hitting her with what remained. Goma stood with her fists up in a guard position, but the Scarecrow, using the power of the hooks on its back, instantly moved behind her. It slammed a piece of wood into Goma's back. Before Goma could swing a punch backward, the Scarecrow moved to the other side and struck her with another piece of wood.
"Are you going, or aren't you going?" the Scarecrow yelled.
"Fine, already!" Goma finally shouted, breathless. "How can I leave if you keep hitting me, you damned robot!"
I knew Goma wouldn't take serious damage from the Scarecrow, but the robot's angry demeanor made me so tense that I had already stepped out of the field before it could say another word. Thankfully, Goma's living space was just a small section to the right of the main entrance.
A leather couch, a refrigerator, and a television were haphazardly tossed into the corner of the room. This was indeed where Goma lived. The weights Goma used for bodybuilding were placed in front of the television. There was a poster on the wall of a 2240s pop singer woman. Goma didn't know much about music. She only constantly watched old American sports movies and, from what she'd seen in those films, athletes hung posters on their bedroom walls. Usually, those were athlete posters, but the only poster in our facility was that pop singer woman's.
I sat down on Goma's couch and waited for her to arrive from the field. Since Goma had dark pink skin, you couldn't see her blush or redden. But judging by how she clutched her left arm, I guessed the Scarecrow had been working it over repeatedly.
Goma usually wore sportswear. She had a tank top on and loose sweatpants underneath. She walked around in slippers, one of which was currently missing because she'd forgotten it in the field, making her hobble in on one bare foot. Her gray sweatpants hadn't been washed for so long that they had lost their gray color, stained with numerous shades of brown, black, and green. Her tank top was full of tears.
Goma's body was as flexible as that of a serpent. I had seen proof of it many times before, though there's little need to elaborate on how. As I mentioned earlier, traces of snake DNA had been found within her. Parts of her dark skin were marked with narrow white streaks, almost like pale bands.Despite her strength, her physique was balanced and graceful. Her arms were about the same size as mine, yet while I could barely lift a chair with both hands, she could carry one effortlessly with a single arm. Her lips were small, almost delicate. Her pupils resembled those of a crocodile — slit and a soft shade of green. Long eyelashes curved gently toward her forehead, framing her gaze. Her hair was a pale black streaked with gray, always tied neatly backward.
I may have mentioned that Goma had two tongues — a detail that never ceased to unsettle me. She also possessed a small, furred tail, barely noticeable beneath her clothing; much like that of a rabbit.
As Goma walked toward me, I could see her muttering curses at the Scarecrow. Then, seeing me sitting on her couch, she straightened her bent back and stood tall, as if she hadn't just been beaten. When she reached me, she suddenly began stretching:
"Ah," she said, holding the elbow of her right arm with her left hand as she stretched her neck, "what a wonderful morning workout we had, didn't we?" As she stretched upward, her tank top rose, exposing her abdominal muscles. Then she bent down and reached for her toes. It was as if she only just realized that one of her slippers was missing. Just as she began to stretch her neck and turn her head, the Scarecrow yelled from behind.
"Here, you forgot your slipper, you cursed woman!" the Scarecrow yelled, hurling Goma's slipper toward her. When the thrown slipper struck Goma's bent backside, it made a sharp "Thwack" sound. Goma straightened up in pain, clenching her fist and preparing to curse, but she noticed me and quickly spread her hands:
"Thank you, Mr. Scarecrow," she called out, her face a mask of furious pain. "Shall we do this again tomorrow? It's genuinely a very beneficial workout."
The Scarecrow was heading back to its post in the field, but it turned to Goma and gave her the finger: "Go f yourself, you crazy woman!" he yelled.
"I love you too, Mr. Scarecrow!"
"Are you done?" I asked, sitting at the edge of the couch.
"Done," she replied, and Goma first went to the refrigerator. The fridge was packed with raw meat. She grabbed a chunk of raw meat the size of her hand and threw herself onto the couch. I was sitting at one end of the couch, while Goma was sprawled out on the other, extending her feet onto my lap. She rested her arm on the couch, occasionally biting the meat in her hand, stretching it out with her mouth, then ripping it off and swallowing it whole.
"Did you fall asleep in the field?"
"No."
"Goma, you are terrible at lying, aren't you?"
"You know, I really like the damp soil. Especially when there are bushes on the ground, I feel much more comfortable. Napping there is good sometimes."
"Well, aren't you going to ask why I'm here?" I asked.
"If you were here to grill, you wouldn't be wearing those formal clothes."
"Yes... I came to convince you to come on a journey with me, Goma."
"A journey? Absolutely not."
"Why not?"
"Because," she said, clearly searching for an excuse by looking around, "well... I'm really behind on my workout schedule."
"Schedule? Where are you learning these words, Goma? From Ilya?"
"Also, I haven't been able to progress much in my sport for a long time. The raw meat is running out, and..."
"And what?"
"I've started to get sick of eating the same raw meat... Yes, cooked food is nice, but raw meat has a different taste. How can I improve if I can't even get good raw meat?"
"What if I told you we'd encounter lots of raw meat throughout our journey?"
Her eyes widened instantly, and she almost dropped the meat from her mouth. Then she said, "I'd tell you you're lying, of course... Raw meat doesn't just appear out in nature."
"But we'll encounter tons of animals on our journey. Imagine... Dozens of meats you've never tasted! Dozens of meats you've never even touched!" I could see drool forming at the corner of her mouth.
"No way!"
"And I need you on this journey, Goma. I need an athletic and powerful friend along the way. Plus, Alora got along with you best in this facility, didn't she?"
"We're going to get Alora?" she asked, astonished.
"Yes."
"Will there be raw meat?"
"Absolutely!"
She instantly shot up. The meat dangled from her mouth as she clenched her fists and shouted: "Then I'm in!" she managed to say, barely understandably. "Let's go get Alora back!"
"Fantastic!" I said, standing up. "Now, go visit Velsil to put on some clothes; we're heading out on a long trip."