Chapter Text
The Astral Express glided silently through the star-strewn void, its golden rails unfurling ahead like threads of destiny. In the observation lounge, Himeko sat alone, the steam from her coffee curling into the still air. Beyond the panoramic glass, the planet Pteruges-V hung against the blackness—a fractured world shrouded in a perpetual, electric dusk.
Its atmosphere churned with a violet haze, pierced from below by the neon rivers of sprawling cities that pulsed with a rhythmic, almost organic light. From this vantage, it didn't just look inhabited; it looked alive. Feverishly so.
The soft shuffle of feet announced a companion. Pom-Pom waddled in, carefully balancing a tray of freshly oiled tools. “You’re staring at that planet like it’s going to bite you,” the conductor chirped.
A faint smirk touched Himeko’s lips, her gaze never leaving the ominous world. “It might. Stellaron contamination always leaves a scar. But this one… this one is different. The reports say the people there can’t feel fear.”
“Can’t,” Pom-Pom echoed, “or won’t?”
“Can’t. It’s been surgically erased from them. Imagine an entire civilization governed solely by raw desire and impulse, with no concept of danger. No hesitation whatsoever.”
“Sounds… messy.”
A soft, humorless laugh escaped her. “Messy, yes. But also profoundly sad. Fear isn’t pleasant, but it keeps us alive. It gives our choices weight. Without it, what remains?”
“Don’t go down there expecting to ‘fix’ them,” Pom-Pom chided gently, adjusting its grip on the tray. “You’re a Trailblazer, not a savior.”
“I know. But I still need to understand what the Stellaron stole from them. There must be something… something worth witnessing.”
A comfortable pause settled between them, filled only by the low, familiar creak of the Express’s hull. Pom-Pom fidgeted, its unease a silent language of its own.
In one smooth, deliberate motion, Himeko stood and picked up her weathered suitcase—a vessel that carried tools, memories, and the faint echoes of every world she’d walked.
“…You’re going alone again?” Pom-Pom’s voice was small.
Himeko offered a reassuring smile over her shoulder. “The crew’s not back yet. It’s just you and me. Can’t exactly send you out there, can I?”
“This train doesn’t like running empty,” Pom-Pom muttered, fiddling with a wrench. “Don’t make it lonelier than it already is.”
“I’ll come back. I always do.”
The doors hissed open. She stepped onto the docking platform, and the violet glow of Pteruges-V spilled inward, not like light, but like a tangible, synthetic mist.