Airi grabbed Jackie’s hand and pulled her toward the terminal:
“Fenikkusu-kun, tell them how you found out about the radio podcast. [ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ]♡”
Rusted Phoenix’s voice filled the speakers—calm, steady, almost like a lecturer:
“Ah yes… ‘Radio Nebula.’ To be honest—I suspected it back at the concert. The crowd’s reaction to the Captain and the First Officer was… unusual. Even for fans of Butt Pimple. Even considering their… cognitive limitations.”
His voice carried on, unchanged.
“I quickly located your podcast on CosmoNet™. But… I chose to place the suspicion on the Captain instead. He was already a convenient suspect. As you’ve now learned yourselves.”
A faint, dry chuckle:
“If I’m being honest… I assessed a risk of Zeros acting irrationally and harming you. You are not dangerous. And you have shown no intent to cause harm.”
Dick swallowed, grabbed the Johnny Wanker™ bottle, rinsed his throat, and rasped:
“Hey… Rusty…
we owe you one.
Seriously… thanks.”
Phoenix registered their presence and continued:
“Oh, Mister Melody… not a problem.
Yes, we are Reapers…
but I am not a supporter of pointless deaths.
Your secret is safe.
Since then, I’ve been blocking the Captain’s access
to your sector whenever possible.
But… I am not omnipotent.
If someone tells him directly…”
Then, almost conversationally:
“Though, honestly?
The Captain would likely be pleased.
He’s a simple man. Even if trillions see him as an idiot—
he’d probably just be happy about it.”
Airi beamed, proud like a big sister:
“Fenikkusu-kun, we’ll bring Dikku-dono and Jakkīi-niyan
to meet Oniisan and Buraindi-kun. (๑>◡<๑)
We’ll come up with a reason.
You just play along, ryōkai?”
Phoenix answered instantly, tone already predicting chaos:
“Airi-chan… Zeros boarded the Iron Wraith and left the moment we docked at the spaceport.
Said:
‘Do not disturb.’ That is… his tradition.”
He continued without hesitation:
“But the Captain is still here. In his quarters. You may visit him. He will be pleased.”
Then, more serious:
“One request. Do not mention the radio broadcast.
Give me time. I will choose the moment—when I am certain it will not endanger the hosts.”
Shiori stepped forward:
“Fenikkusu-chan, watashi mo issho ni ikimasu. Karera wa M-News 24 no repōtā tte iu koto ni suru. Watashi ga intabyū o ukete, sorekara kapitanchan ni shōkai suru. Kore de… kitto ikeru wa. Ano hito… gomen ne… baka dakara.”
Dick slowly removed his Mega RayBanned™ Gen69
and carefully placed them on Jackie’s face:
“Baby… you go. I’ll stay here. Far away from sin… and potential murder.”
Airi spun around happily, already dragging Jackie with her—
but Shiori stopped her with a hand:
“Airi-chan… dame. Koko ni ite. Okusama-tachi o mamotte.”
Then, more clearly, in Cosmonglish:
“You stay here. You must protect our guests. We cannot leave them alone. I will go with Jakkī-san.”
Airi gave in, let Jackie go, and returned to the terminal.
Shiori, after a short “we’ll be back soon,” led Jackie out into the hangar of Z-P-N-E-S 2.0, leaving Airi,
Dick—now holding the Drone—and the Author inside the ship.
They stepped out into the vast spaceport hall—a place already boiling with its own, completely separate life.
Underfoot, between cargo containers and landing platforms, weaving through boots and shadows, moved the Helari—small, stocky creatures barely knee-high to a human.
Their wide bodies were covered by a natural shell, smooth and rounded, like a helmet cast from aged bronze.
Beneath that dome, dark eyes flickered constantly, scanning everything, missing nothing.
In many spaceports, the Helari were something like space dwarfs—
the kind that kept everything running and never asked to be noticed.
They rarely took part in politics, almost never left their workstations for long—but if an engine failed, an airlock jammed, or life support started choking—chances were, a group of Helari was already on its way.
Three of them darted right past Shiori, tapping their tiny tools against metal, clicking rapidly at each other.
She pulled her foot back just in time not to step on one of them, watching as they disappeared beneath a hanging cargo hull.
“Kono chiisana yakunitatsu warugaki-tachi… ki o tsukete!”
Jackie adjusted her smart glasses, still streaming everything she saw to the entire known galaxy.
For a second, she tilted her head—like she was listening to her own thoughts—then spoke softly, almost conspiratorially, in that familiar scientist-narrator voice:
“Dear gremlins… do you see these fascinating little creatures?”
She angled her head so the camera could catch the Helari clustered near a docking port.
“These are Helari. Permanent residents of nearly every major spaceport in the galaxy.
They rarely grow taller than a foot—
but if you’ve ever flown on a ship that actually made it off the ground and didn’t fall apart in orbit…
there’s a very good chance they were somewhere nearby.”
One Helari tugged a cable into place.
Another tapped a panel with a tiny wrench.
A third simply observed, tilting its shell slightly.
“Biologically, they originate from an ocean world, where their ancestors spent millions of years in shallow waters under constant threat from predators.
That’s why they developed this—” she zoomed in slightly—
“natural shell. Basically, a built-in helmet. Their brain sits deep beneath it, protected better than most intelligent species.”
The Helari suddenly clicked in unison—
a rapid sequence of sharp sounds, like miniature machinery syncing.
Jackie smiled.
“And yes—that’s their language. Clicks, vibrations, low-frequency hums. Extremely efficient. Engineers like to joke that Helari can discuss a full system schematic faster than we can even open the manual.”
One of the little creatures stopped, lifted its head—and for a brief second, looked straight into the camera.
Its dark eyes glinted beneath the smooth shell.
“They almost never work alone,” Jackie continued.
“Minimum three. Usually five. The group is both protection and function.
One checks the system, another identifies the issue, a third brings tools—by the time you blink, they’ve already disassembled half the mechanism and put it back together.”
Right on cue, one of them popped a panel out of the wall, adjusted something—and snapped it back into place.
Jackie let out a quiet amused breath.
“No one really knows how they ended up in spaceports across the galaxy.
But there’s an old saying among pilots…”
She lowered her voice slightly, like sharing a secret:
“‘If a spaceport has Helari—your ship will fly.
Eventually. Even if you’ve already given up on it.'”
The trio finished their work, clicked once more in sync—then turned and hurried off, just as efficiently, as if a thousand more small, critical tasks were already waiting for them.