If he had not been quick-witted enough back then to notice someone lying in wait and replace himself with a self-destructing robot he had made, he would probably have been captured by humans that time.
Soon after, another incomprehensible smear video began circulating across Earth's Data Network. In it, Ord saw many fake compatriots disembark from a wrecked spaceship, speaking grating Earth languages and telling a fabricated story.
It was ridiculously fake. What Carbon-based Lifeform lived by eating dirt? Did they have no common sense at all?
Yet Earthlings believed that story more readily. He could not step forward and say it was fake, and the plan those impostors described was bizarrely identical to his own.
It was practically an indirect exposure of his identity. He could only lie low for now, hiding by the sea to devise a new plan.
But he had no ideas in the short term. His mind was a tangled mess, filled with questions that would not go away.
How did Earthlings know what he looked like? Where had they gotten a spaceship? Why would Earthlings believe such an obvious lie?
Before he found answers to those mysteries, he did not dare make any rash moves.
He was deep in enemy territory, all alone. One wrong move would cost him everything. It was like dancing on a knife's edge, where not even the slightest mistake was permissible.
But Earth's air had too much moisture. After making several high-intensity trips, his Flying Motorcycle had to undergo repairs and maintenance. The best place he could find was this deserted seaside cave.
"Ding! A blogger you follow has posted an update!"
A notification sound and pop-up suddenly appeared on the laptop beside him, dragging Ord out of his memories.
This human portable information terminal was not portable at