Getting a Technology System in Modern Day

624 Debriefing and Demerits

Joon-ho felt a thrill pass through him at the question. It was a question he had been waiting for, seemingly for his entire life. He didn’t know many people from the task force, having spent the entire journey out either practicing his mana manipulation skills or in his private VR space, but he firmly believed that he was the leading expert in the Proxima Centauri system on all things fantasy, sci-fi, and anime.

He began lecturing the trees on all things elven, all the way from the mythological alfar and dokkalfar to present, including the races’ representation in novels, video games, and movies. He provided every detail he could think of, and as he spoke, he saw them in his memories, including his emotions and thoughts as he first discovered the rich body of entertainment through humanity’s history. He recalled heroes and villains, epic tales of adventures, and the struggles and challenges that each individual went through in each story he recounted to the trees.

As he spoke, the trees asked questions. Questions about other races he mentioned seemed popular, and Joon-ho figured that there was something about them that spoke to a primal facet of each individual tree around the meadow he was in. The oak, for example, seemed very interested in tales of giants, particularly those of hill giants from a popular tabletop role-

playing game that Joon-ho played in his personal VR space.

The longer Joon-ho spoke, the more memories flashed in his mind and the more questions the trees asked him. And he basked in the attention; for most of his life he had been ignored, overlooked, or bullied due to his introverted personality and neurodivergent behaviors. So having an enthusiastic audience that not only respected his knowledge, but thirsted for it, satisfied a deep drive that he never knew he had possessed.

Then came a rather unexpected statement. The trees actually apologized for the attack on the lander and the later destruction of the rover with all hands aboard it. They had thought that humanity was like them, and losing individuals of the species would be much like trees shedding leaves, or perhaps twigs. But along with the realization that each human being was an individual came sorrow, sorrow that they had cut short a life with all that that entailed.

……

While Joon-ho was giving the lecture of his dreams, perhaps quite literally, Ayaka was busy dealing with the many tasks that a Commander in the exploration fleet and executive officer of an exploration cruiser had to deal with. It wasn’t made any easier by the emergency evacuation from the planet’s surface, either. It took her two days to untangle the personnel issue alone and ensure everyone was returned to their proper places after the “ad hoc temporary personnel reassignments”, as someone had jokingly referred to the post-

evacuation chaos.

The work helped some, at least. It kept her mind off her responsibility in Joon-ho’s disappearance, but every time she recalled that he was listed as missing, presumed killed in action, she felt a stabbing pain in her chest and a burning sensation in her eyes. He wasn’t the only person she knew in the doomed mission to the surface, but he was the one she had worked the closest with, and one that she’d personally ordered to go into harm’s way.

After she finished sorting out the personnel tasks and the resulting paperwork, she stretched and leaned back in her chair, rubbing her tired eyes with the heels of her hands. A soft chime sounded in her office, announcing that she had a visitor. She blinked away some of the tiredness from her eyes and said, “Enter.”

A young, red-haired Ordinary Crewman with a sprinkle of freckles across his cheeks, wearing a steward’s uniform, entered the office and said, “Ma’am, Captain Marinakis’ compliments and he’ll see you in his ready room at 1400 hours.”

“Thank you, crewman,” Ayaka replied, a touch more formality in her tone. Having the captain’s steward deliver the captain’s order—and an order it definitely was—didn’t portend well for her upcoming debrief; perhaps the admiral had been put out more than she thought by her questioning his order a few days ago.

The steward saluted, then smartly turned on his heel and walked out of her office. She sighed and pulled up her report on the doomed rover and awakener, reading it again to ensure it was fresh in her memory. She checked the time; it was 1345, just enough time to straighten out her uniform and make it to the captain’s ready room.

She schooled her face into a pleasant expression, then walked out of her office.

......

Captain’s ready room, TES Farsight.

At precisely 1400 hours, holograms of Fleet Admiral Bianchi and his chief of staff flickered into existence. Ayaka and Captain Marinakis stood and saluted.

“Sit down, you two,” the admiral sighed. “What a clusterfuck this mission is shaping up to be.”

He turned to Ayaka. “Commander Takahashi, walk me through what happened on the surface. Your report was thorough, but there are still questions.”

Ayaka nodded, then stood. “Yes, Sir. When we were notified of the supercell, we began preparing to weather the storm. Then the evacuation order came down....”

She narrated the events of the evacuation and its aftermath up to the present, after she had straightened out the inadvertent chaos caused by the emergency order. Once she was finished with her presentation, the questioning began.

“Why did you send your awakener, Warrant Officer...” the admiral began, then his chief of staff leaned in to whisper something in his ear. “Yes, Warrant Officer Lee. Why did you send him out for the rescue instead of a lander? And without escort, at that?”

“There was only one lander at the research base at the time, and it would’ve taken longer to reach the rover and the science team, Sir,” Ayaka began. “Also, I felt that we should reserve the lander we had for any emergencies that arose during the storm. Warrant Lee couldn’t bring a team of marines with him, not and travel as fast as he could alone, and I judged that speed was of the essence in rescuing the seismology team.”

“Why did it take you so long to realize he had failed in his mission?” The admiral’s face appeared to have been carved from granite, giving away no clue as to what he was thinking.

“By the time we got the report that we’d lost connection with him and the team in the rover, the emergency evacuation was in full swing. The base VI judged it as a low priority issue and didn’t report it until the evacuation was well underway. By that point, the base’s quantum supercluster was in power-

saving mode and couldn’t be brought back up to full power before the evacuation was complete. So I made the call to divert the lander I was assigned to go and pick up the stranded personnel, but by that time the evacuation order had been made nondiscretionary and I couldn’t divert the lander.”

“What is your impression, Commander? Do you think there are survivors down there?” the admiral asked.

“I believe so, Sir.”

“Do you have any evidence or is it just wishful thinking?”

“A bit of both, Sir. Warrant Lee is a concept-level awakener, and a strong one at that. I have to believe that he could survive the attack seen in the video we recovered.”

“Very good, Commander. And I happen to agree with you. A conceptualist wouldn’t die so easily. We will continue monitoring the planet as best we can and send a rescue mission at the soonest opportunity.”

The admiral turned to Captain Marinakis and continued, “Enter a disciplinary note into Commander Takahashi’s file regarding her breaking the chain of command. She’s to be docked a month’s pay and confined to quarters for a week, pending the needs of the fleet. VR access will be denied for the duration of the confinement.”

“Yes, Sir,” the captain replied.

Fleet Admiral Bianchi looked at Ayaka again. “I trust you’ll do better in the future, Commander Takahashi.”

“I will, Sir,” she said, and saluted him.

“Very well. See that you do. Bianchi clear.”