Sunflower.
Starling first made a cautious sweep of the island. Then she took the camera into the changing room behind it and slipped into a locker, hiding inside.
She hit record and whispered so softly she could barely hear herself.
[REC] — Recording time: 2952-12-16 07:06:23
▶ “Carlos… we tried. We really tried. But we couldn’t change the ending.”
“And somehow, I’m not even afraid anymore. I’m not even sad.”
“If you could see the world now, you’d understand what I mean. There’s nothing left to cling to here. Maybe death is… a kind of release, for me and for Linneya.”
“Last night I held a gun to Linneya while she slept…”
“I didn’t want her to become Phantom Forge’s test subject…”
“I thought… maybe… letting her go while she was asleep would be best…”
“But I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t.”
“Where are you…? I want to cry so badly…”
Starling covered her face and forced her breathing back under control before she could continue.
“It’s been a thousand years, and I still remember what you told me: never give up.”
“So today… I’m going to try one last time.”
“Wyatt—we all think you’re gone, but Dorian keeps insisting you’re on your way. I hope he’s right.”
“Today is December 16th. If you don’t see this video within a week, then none of it matters anymore.”
“If you do… open the next video. It’s locked with a password.”
“The password is the date of our first call.”
“There’s an enemy on the ship. Find somewhere safe before you watch.”
***
She finished recording, placed the camera in a conspicuous spot on the island, drew her pistol, and walked deeper into the ship.
She went all the way to the oval hall, turned on every light that still worked, then raised her gun and fired several shots into the open atrium. The sound echoed through the cavernous space and carried far.
Starling stood at the railing, expression blank, and waited.
Then—suddenly—she spotted a familiar shape in the lower corridor.
Minks?
She ran down and found him sprawled like wreckage, unmoving, though his body was mostly intact. She leaned in to check him—
and a voice spoke behind her.
“He’s fine. He just powered down.”
Starling spun.
CBG stood not far away, watching her with leisurely calm.
“Don’t look at me like that,” it said. “I didn’t do anything. He shut himself off.”
“Why would he do that?”
“No idea,” CBG replied, a hint of mockery in its tone. “Maybe he feels guilty for trying to ambush me.”
Starling strained to haul Minks upright and didn’t answer.
CBG kept talking. “All that noise—were you looking for me?”
“Yes.”
“So you finally thought it through?”
Starling kept her pistol steady. “Can you guarantee Linneya’s safety?”
“Of course. I’ve already prepared the best facilities and the best environment for her.”
“Why should I believe you?”
CBG sounded almost offended. “We come from the same era. You should know me. Do I look like someone who’d waste this much effort just to kill one person? If I wanted you dead, a single long-range missile would do it.”
A short, brittle silence.
“I’ve one condition,” Starling said at last.
“Name it.”
“Take off every weapon you’ve.”
“Weapons?” CBG blinked. “Oh… you mean the blade.”
It didn’t hesitate. It unclipped the 2D Blade and tossed it aside.
“There. Satisfied?”
“Follow me.” Starling turned and walked.
“Why didn’t you bring her?” CBG asked as it fell into step behind her.
“She’s not doing well.”
“Fair. A thousand years of sleep will do that.”
They moved through the ship’s maze of passages—one corridor into another into another. CBG asked questions about the crash and what had happened afterward. Starling answered none of them.
“Hey.” CBG tried again, almost plaintive. “Cheer up, android. Don’t look so wronged. You’re the ones who lied to me, bombed me, and chopped me up. I’m the victim here.”
Starling still didn’t respond.
After crossing several sections, she stopped at a round hatch. She entered a code. The door opened, and she went in first.
Shelving divided the space into compartments. Once inside, it became clear the room was enormous. Boxes of varying sizes sat on the shelves, many rotted by time. Starling turned on the lights and threaded between the aisles.
When she heard the hatch seal shut behind them, she stopped walking.
“Why stop?” CBG asked.
“We’re here,” Starling said.
“Where is ‘here’?”
“This used to be the ship’s valuables vault.” Starling’s voice stayed calm. “Now it’s your prison.”
CBG looked around and finally realized there were no other exits—only thick walls.
“Interesting.” It didn’t sound panicked at all. “Looks like I got played.”
“Yes,” Starling said without flinching.
CBG stepped back to the hatch and slammed a fist into it.
“BANG!”
The door gave a deep, heavy note—and didn’t budge. CBG’s fist deformed instead.
“Don’t bother,” Starling said. “That door and those walls are eighty centimeters thick. Even explosives won’t crack them. It only opens from the outside with a password.”
“Huh.” CBG tilted its head. “Then I’m curious—how are you planning to get out?”
“Who said I was getting out?” Starling smiled, fragile and bleak.
CBG froze.
“Embarrassed?” Starling asked, steady as stone. “Come on. Kill me.”
***
“Starling… where are you…? W-w-where are you…?”
While Starling kept CBG occupied, Linneya cried alone in the cave.
After a while, she noticed Pinecone squeaking urgently, holding up a rolled strip of paper with writing on it.
Linneya unrolled it with shaking fingers, sniffling as she read.
It said:
“Linneya—your big sister suddenly remembered something important I’ve to handle, so I went back to the ship first. You can play in the cave for a day or two and then come back, but you can’t wander off, okay? Pinecone will stay with you. The wind is a lot calmer today and the clouds got blown away—maybe we’ll see stars tonight. Love you! (hug)”
The note steadied her a little. She wiped her face and saw Pinecone playing nearby like nothing had happened, and for a second she got angry instead of scared.
“Stupid rat. I’m going to hit you. Why didn’t you wake me up when she left?”
“Squeak,” Pinecone complained, as if it had an excuse.
Linneya crawled out of the tent. Soft light filtered through the thermal membrane. She put on her oxygen mask, peeled the membrane aside, and shivered as cold air rushed in. It was chilly—low, but not unbearable.
It was already morning. The wind had stopped. The sun still wasn’t visible, but the sky was far brighter, and the outlines of the mountain range were clear.
She ate a little of yesterday’s leftover food and water and still felt hollow, uneasy. She’d spent most of these years in sleep, and when she was awake she had never once been alone like this.
She sat at the cave mouth for a while, staring at the mountains. From here she couldn’t see far—the cave was only halfway up the slope. She wanted a wider view.
So she called Pinecone over and kept climbing.
More than two hours later, she reached the summit.
Up here the view was huge. In the distance, the clouds were warm-toned and cottony. The mountain ridges rolled one after another like waves on a sea.
Looking down, Linneya quickly found the valley where the Sunflower lay buried.
She remembered standing on the deck of the wooden boat, staring at the Sunflower back then—so massive it felt like a mountain.
Now, from this height, it looked small enough to cover with a single hand.
She had dreamed of reaching this summit for so long—and yet she felt nothing. She sat on a flat stone, and the unease only grew heavier.
“Squeak!” Pinecone suddenly cried out.
“Pinecone…” Linneya stared down toward the cave. “I miss Starling.”
“Squeak.”
“Yeah.” Linneya stood. “Let’s go back and find her.”
“Squeak-squeak-squeak!” Pinecone’s voice turned urgent.
“What is it?”
The sound was wrong. Linneya turned to look at it.
“SQUEAKSQUEAKSQUEAKSQUEAK—!”
Pinecone stood on a rock, pointing frantically into the distance.
Linneya followed its gesture—
and froze.
Across the opposite mountainside, countless black dots were moving. As she focused, the dots resolved into an ocean of robots, pouring over the ridge and marching toward her, filling the horizon.