Chapter 31: Conditioned Reflex

Yuki sat upright, his posture formal, while on the small table before him, a cup of fragrant coffee rested in a circular indentation.

He hadn’t even had the chance to decline when the officer, wearing a salesman’s “just try this” kind of expression, presented him with a cup of coffee that had clearly been brewed even before Yuki entered the room.

Yuki had a vague suspicion about what had happened during those two minutes of darkness inside the elevator.

In the end, he couldn’t utter a single word of refusal. All he could do was accept the slightly hot coffee cup and nod in thanks.

As he lowered his head for a polite sip, the officer picked up his own cup from the desk, sat down directly to Yuki’s right, and placed his coffee carefully into the round holder on the small table as well.

An invisible pressure immediately enveloped Yuki in its entirety.

He had no recollection of how the coffee tasted; his mind was buzzing with static. It was as if it had awakened some memory, triggered a psychological shadow.

Although Yuki had no idea where this emotion came from.

“You said you had something important to discuss with me in person. You can say it now.”

He looked so affable, his voice and tone so gentle, yet… Yuki could only scream inwardly, Comrades! I’ve met the real person! Whoever cast this role did an amazing job!

“Yes.”

Forcing himself to withstand the inexplicable pressure rising from the depths of his heart, Yuki nodded and carefully chose his words: “The president of the Institute for Space Technology is launching a celebratory rocket, but there’s a manipulator behind the scenes. They’re using certain space technology as bait to get the Institute to cooperate with the launch.”

As he spoke, Yuki observed the officer’s expression.

Unmoved and steady.

The officer asked calmly, “Do you have evidence?”

Yuki answered immediately, “I’m a witness. I overheard a conversation between the president and his assistant—the content was exactly as I described. As for physical evidence, there’s a paper contract kept in a safe in the president’s office, third floor of the Institute.”

The officer nodded, then said, “Since you’re following this matter, you must know they’ve decided to suspend the launch, right?”

“They will launch, and they’ll pin the blame on a temporary worker.”

Yuki’s tone was resolute: “No one at the launch site knows anything about the outside situation. Before the launch, they begin a twenty-day lockdown; all staff are forbidden to leave or make contact with the outside, and the base’s network is isolated. Once something goes wrong and blame is assigned, it’ll only trace back to some staff member responsible for data synchronization who ‘failed to update the information in time.’”

The officer lowered his head and pondered for a few seconds. “Is this your speculation?”

Yuki hesitated a moment, but nodded. “One must never hesitate to suspect the worst in people.”

This, after all, was a truth not just for humans, but for any sentient being.

The officer nodded as well, but Yuki could tell he neither agreed nor disagreed.

“So, you went to all this trouble to come here and tell me this. Are you hoping the police will assemble a team and take control of the launch site?” The officer shook his head regretfully. “Unfortunately, mobilizing more than a single squad exceeds my authority in emergencies—let alone authorizing the use of force.”

“I know.”

Yuki had already understood this. It was one of the reasons he hadn’t planned to drag Officer Sakura into this mess—this far exceeded her jurisdiction.

As for the officer before him, perhaps he could request an administrative order from higher up or apply for police deployment, but there simply wasn’t enough time.

In an emergency, only a bare handful of people could be dispatched without approval.

Given the launch site’s security arrangements, if just a few of them went, they’d simply be stopped outside. The guards could form a human wall to keep them out.

“So, I have a plan, and I’d like your advice.”

Yuki glanced at his watch—it was already 11:20—so he decided to make it brief.

The officer across from him shifted his posture, signaling his full attention and readiness to listen.

“Although the rocket launch site has cut off its network from the outside, there’s still a data channel. The complete data route runs from the rocket to the site’s computing center, then to the Institute for Space Technology’s data center, and finally to the police headquarters’ data center.

“Although the data transfer is one-way—always pushing data downstream—wherever there’s data transfer, there’s a handshake. I can ride that handshake upstream, infiltrate the chain from the police headquarters, and ultimately sabotage the rocket launch.”

Yuki finished in one breath, his gaze fixed on the officer, waiting for his response.

“You’re… a hacker?”

The officer was clearly surprised, caught off guard.

Yuki had noticed that the officer’s familiarity, the way he’d invited Yuki here, indicated he’d done his homework. He’d probably already read Yuki’s file and résumé, which contained no information pointing to any hacking expertise.

So Yuki shook his head and decided not to keep him guessing. “No, I don’t really know much about hacking. I intend to sabotage the launch physically. Once the rocket lifts off, it’ll begin transmitting data—the link will be established. I can digitize my body, enter the rocket via the data link, and rematerialize inside. The rocket’s communications and control modules are integrated, located roughly in the lower central section of the body.”

He’d gleaned this intelligence from the large screens during his tour of the launch center.

“I’ll try to damage the connection structure between the rocket’s stages, causing the booster to detach prematurely from the main body. As long as I do this before the rocket reaches escape velocity, Earth’s gravity will recapture it and it’ll fall back.”

Yuki pulled out his tablet, opening the calculations that Melika had just sent him, and showed the officer.

“If the rocket loses speed and falls between five and eight minutes after launch—before it crosses the Kármán line—the debris will land in the Pacific, in international waters. These are the predicted impact points.”

Yuki pointed to the map on the tablet, highlighting several spots in red.

“This is where it would fall if it stalls at five minutes, here at six, here at seven, and so on. Any later and it gets tricky. Though most of the rocket will burn up during reentry, some debris could survive and fall on the Americas.”

The officer from the Foreign Affairs Unusual Cases Division rested his elbow on the armrest, chin in hand, studying the blinking red dots on the tablet, then suddenly asked a completely unrelated question.

“Digitizing your body and traveling through the network—is that your superpower?”

Yuki fell silent, unsure how to answer. If anyone else had asked, he had a contingency plan, but this man…

“No. To my knowledge, it’s Grimud’s power.”

Yuki kept his eyes on the tablet as he spoke, but he could feel the officer’s gaze sharpen the moment he mentioned Grimud.

The officer took a pen from the inside pocket and held it against his chin, as if deep in thought. “Did Tregear do this?”

“It’s possible, but I can’t be sure.”

In the end, Yuki hadn’t asked, and Tregear hadn’t admitted it either. It wouldn’t do to pin the blame on someone without proof—though Tregear probably wouldn’t care.

“So, what is your relationship with Tregear?”

“We just… ‘know’ each other.”

Yuki thought for a moment, then added, “He probably discovered my connection to Taiga, and then…”

Perhaps that was why he’d become a target.

If an uninformed third party were present, listening to these two talk, they would be utterly confused by the cascade of unfamiliar names and their mysterious connections.

The officer showed no surprise, only furrowed his brow. “Don’t divulge this to anyone else.”

Once an Ultraman’s identity is revealed, they must leave Earth—a rule clearly intended to protect them. Otherwise, they’d be “fortunate” enough to witness humanity’s lowest and ugliest behaviors up close.

Fear, hostility, suspicion, moral coercion…

Yuki, as a human and a viewer, knew this better than anyone.

If things reached that point, the show would be nearly over.

“I—I’m sorry!”

Yuki immediately bowed his head in apology.

…??

After apologizing, Yuki came back to himself in confusion—wait, this wasn’t his fault! Neither he, nor “Yuki,” nor Taiga had ever recklessly revealed their identity.

Of course, the fact he’d been tracked down, whatever the excuse, still came down to his own lack of caution…

But this reflexive apology—where on earth had that come from!