“Do you mean to say you will do something me and my whole team couldn’t?”

“Exactly. And right now.”

Max answered, looking at the board, marked with handmade diagrams, and a question, “How does the fuel carry?”, in big words.

“What are the processes of sustainment?”

“None.”

The woman answered.

“You mean there is no way to sustain 01? Then how does it run throughout the planet?”

Max flashed a clear look of mistrust to the young researcher. As she worsened her disgruntled expressions, but spoke out of courtesy of his position.

“Of course there are. But none of them are applicable for that far of a journey.”

Max turned back to the board, swivelling away from the research team, as the two captains following him nervously witnessed the unnecessary dominance of their young leader from the other corner of the small room.

“I want the processes of sustenance.”

He drew his right hand, gradually, silently, to a small space model of the new S-27 spacecraft, as the head of the research department, retorts from behind.

“Please don’t touch that, sir.”

Max turned his neck around, giving a side glance, though his small, cat mask covered his left eye.

“I can’t?”

“No, sir. Only the research team, and Miss. Minerva are allowed. This is not your base.”

“Hm? That’s unfair.”

Max swiveled back to the team, headed by the fair women in white robes.

He leaned his body at the board, giving a direct look to the team, as he squinted at the women’s batch.

“Clair,” he read the name, and looked back at her face, “isn’t the purpose of the research team to foster brilliant ideas?”

“Even your lights are dim,” He points out at one small, light bulb hanging over the small table, before him, “No wonder you can’t come up with ideas.”

Phu. Clair took a small breath. She tried to hide it, but Max’s lips curled to a very small smile.

“I would request again, sir, to leave the room and wait for Miss. Minerva in her office.”

She pointed at the light.

“You can address this issue yourself. To someone who is your equal in standing.” She continued.

Hearing this, Max retorted in a small phrase, letting out an audible whisper.

“Not so much by the numbersss…”

Clair watched Max in shock, as she had seen none, even amongst the Ghost-6s who would challenge the power amongst themselves or acted this unreasonably.

The soldiers subconsciously tightened their mouths, and stoned their stances. They were scared they might become the first witness of a fight amongst Ghost-6s which hadn’t happened in centuries.

Catching the tense environment, hiding his smile under the guise of his teeth-bitten lips, he spoke, addressing the soldiers, “Yeah, Let’s go.”

He formed a subtle expression of oopsies, as one of the captains opened the door, waiting for Max to pass, and they left the research room under relaxed breaths.

They all left the room, as one of the soldiers guarding the Research base approached and saluted.

“Yes.” Max responded.

“Sir, Miss Minerva is waiting for you at her office.”

Giving a subtle, hidden glance of the slightest turn of head to the closed gate of the research team, through which, though, he couldn’t see anything. As his small, burnt mask covered his left-eye like a patch. He answered.

“Lead us there.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Their feet kept tapping on the base’s first floor’s polished tiles which connected — in a short distance — the large, hall of the base, bustling with researchers and soldiers, laden with loads and loads of hanging and grounded models.

They circumambulated the grills watching the zero floor, as they were walking over an oval structure. They soon reached the elevator, which led them to the fifth floor, as the soldiers respectfully bowed, and led him to the office, and the two captains waited outside.

“Good evening, Miss Minerva, you are really looking much dazzling up close.”

Max entered the long room which was filled with dark, and beautiful wooden tiles. Inherently the base was of metal, so the spacious room, rolled with a posh, red carpet, brimming bookshelf was fitted with wood later.

Minerva, shifted her eyes, looking out of the window, sitting on her desk, to Max.

“You can just call me Minerva. We are of the same position, Max.”

She said after holding the gaze of her deep eyes for a moment.

“Thanks. And I can’t help but say, your earrings look very aesthetically pleasing. Even though, as a boy, I'm not into it.”

He addressed her, seating himself on the sofa, sticking to the wall, just a certain distance from her desk.

“Oh!” She exclaimed in subtle excitement, perhaps just caught off-guard, “I li— I mean, I think so, too. These are very aesthetically pleasing.” She rolled a hand, under her earring.

“We can’t talk about our likes, and dislikes can we?”

She spoke, looking straight, to Max’s both eyes— hidden and visible.

“Yeah,” He spoke, pausing for a moment, as if heaving an internal sigh of emotional acceptance, “Definitely can’t speak that. We can’t afford any Ghost-6s bursting.”

He leaned forward, and gave a smile back to Minerva. It was subtle, a bit too much for Max, as if he couldn’t muster his lips up to form them.

“What is up with the mask, Max? Some form of rare artefact?”

“This?”

He asked, pointing at his left-eyepatch mask. Burnt to charcoal black, yet still carrying that very familiar ears, and silhouette of the old baby cat masks.

“Yeah.”

Minerva spoke, as she picked up a glass, lying at the corner of her desk, closed, and filled with water.

“Oh, this is nothing. Just something… personal. It was given by someone very important to me.”

Minerva halted the glass midair, with a quiet look of contemplation.

“Hmm. Perhaps…”

“Ah, no. I don’t have a lover.”

“That’s… not what I, ahh, forget it.”

The glass floating by her powers, began to move forwards in a graceful flight, as she went on to seamlessly drink the water.

“Actually, I came here because of the communication, and 01 problems. How many days till you guys can sort it out, Minerva.”

“One minute,” she said, pointing her index finger, as she proceeded to gulp down all the water, in a hurried rush.

“Phuf,” she took a breath, and said, “It’s a real problem, Max. Carrying 01 as it is now, is definitely very dangerous. I can’t guarantee that, even you, will be able to handle it.”

“Hmm,” he leaned his body to the right on the hand rest, “is it the sanitation? Or perhaps some kind of chemical reaction?”

“I would say both, and more.”

“Actually, I would love a briefing.”

“Of course.”

She lifted herself off the table, as she moved before the bookshelf — standing in front of max, on the opposite wall.

She produced a board, filled with diagrams. Spaceships were dissected in the diagrams into their smallest parts, and on a certain corner of the board, bullet points were listed.

“Communication is factually impossible to connect, after your spaceships pass through the solar veil. That veil doesn’t allow any kind of frequency to pass through. Only after you pass through it, will we be able to connect.”

“That’s tough.” Max responded, listening intently.

“Yeah. But the major problem is 01. It is impossible to carry this journey without 01. And, there are major problems regarding this.”

“Sanitization can be dealt with if we work with perfect technical maintenance, and separate the 01 transportation system to everything else.” Max spoke, as he had crashed his forehead, over his left hand, perhaps in deep contemplation.

“And what if we transport 01 with water's use.” He lifted his head, looking at Minerva.

“That’s an interesting idea. But that will need perfect water. Perhaps you creating it would be the only method.”

He leaned on his left hand again. His eyes restlessly wandered, which he would sometimes rub, with the tips of his fingers.

“I will do that then.”

“But that’s…”

“There’s no other way though. And I think I would be able to handle it.”

Max said, looking straight back to Minerva. Their eyes watching in a silent accompaniment for contemplation.

“And I have a solution.” Max added.

“For 01?”

“For a lot of problems.”

He flicked his hand, as the diagrams of the board shifted to form a large ship, S-27, and said, “What if I take an elite team, instead of a bigger one? Taking a small team will solve a lot of our problems.”

“You are brave, Max,” Minerva said, ”But we don’t know what’s out there. There are very high chances of powerful monsters being there. Perhaps on our level.”

“Yeah, but I guess this is the only way. I'll perhaps have to look for the Ghost-6s. Retired, or probably the ones not wanting to work.”