Tan Jize stood on the balcony of his third-floor apartment, a cup of strong tea in hand, watching crowds march down the street below, raising all kinds of banners and shouting slogans. His expression remained stern, even grim, as he watched them pass through the side streets, reach the main thoroughfare, and merge with the swelling tide of people.
He finished his tea, sighed, and opened his terminal, intending to make another record. In the end, though, he shook his head. He crushed the empty paper cup and tossed it into the brazier on the balcony. It was already piled high with paper documents, texts, and notes, all slowly being consumed by the flames.
After watching his cup and most of his notes turn to ash, he went back inside and briskly packed his luggage. There wasn't much: a change of clothes, emergency travel medicine, and various travel documents and tickets. As for his beloved fountain pen and notebook, he always kept them close, tucked into the inner pocket of his jacket.
By the time he had finished, Miss Chunjun had knocked gently three times and entered the room. "Sir, the ship is ready. We can board Pelican, an Alliance vessel, at South City's Pier 4 and leave directly."
She paused, then added, "I've made six copies of the materials you took and entrusted them all to private couriers. They'll be delivered within a month at the latest to the Pioneer Party headquarters on Earth and to your junior grand-uncle in the Alliance."
"Private couriers—the unofficial, shady kind, right?"
"At a time like this, wouldn't the official ones be more likely to cause trouble?" Miss Chunjun said. "These couriers are all small, workshop-style operations, and they've worked with the Spirit Research Society before. They're actually more trustworthy."
Tan Jize gratefully