Investigation

The Herrschers dashed out of the city at breakneck speed, the invisible Herrscher's body along with the T-1000's remains gradually turning transparent under the sunlight. At this moment, the importance of the invisibility ability became glaringly obvious—dragging a huge mass toward the dangerous outskirts like students rushing to the cafeteria after class was practically shouting to everyone: I've got something wrong, come check me out.

Martha raised her hand in a stopping gesture and reminded through the mental link: "Let's hide in the roadside shelter for a few days before moving on." The other Herrschers with her nodded in agreement.

The First Speaker said to the investigation team in the mental link: "Our comrades for support are already waiting at the shelter. Make sure to protect the spoils."

A metal skull sat on the table, its crimson electronic eyes now dim, with a cable plugged into a slot on top of its head.

"Any findings?" Martha asked.

The hacker Andre shook his head, his fingers clattering nonstop on the keyboard: "I'm still working on it. But you can take a look at its battlefield recordings—maybe you'll find something useful."

The recordings totaled a full 75 hours, which was no problem for a Herrscher; Martha's enhanced brain let her binge-watch them at double speed without issue.

But the content was completely different from what Martha had imagined. She'd assumed the recording would start with the T-800 just coming off the production line. Instead, it began in an office in some city, clearly indicating the recordings were periodically processed. She stared at the screen, her eyes meticulously searching for any clue: trivial city scenery, or the T-800's meaningless movements.

["Hello, Tabashnikov." The blond man in front extended his hand to the recording's owner.

"Hello." The T-800 extended its mechanical arm covered in flesh and skin, its voice sounding quite magnetic with a hint of an Eastern European accent.

The man handed over a document stamped with the Fire Moth emblem, titled "Environment and Production Bulletin 51.a." Below the title, in the signature line, was written: Syktyvkar City Industrial Committee.

The blond man said: "Classification level 3C. Please file it in Sector C."

"Alright." The view shook slightly as the T-800 nodded in acknowledgment.]

Time passed from evening to late night. Martha watched nearly six hours of repetitive content in a row, meaning this machine had worked for twelve consecutive hours with only a one-hour break. As a Herrscher, she began to loathe Fire Moth's wartime work schedule for the first time.

Twelve hours!

Machines don't get tired, but don't ordinary people? Doesn't Dr. Mei get tired?

Maybe Dr. Mei doesn't work at all, she thought contemptuously, then rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand, opened them, and kept staring at the screen.

[A black-haired man opened the door and handed over a document. Then he left without saying anything. The recording's owner didn't ask anything either, just put it in its proper place and clocked out.]

"That's not standard procedure." Martha rewound the recording to this suspicious part. Then she noted the document's location. In the following dozens of hours, the black-haired man appeared two more times.

Martha opened the mental link, her crisp voice entering someone's mind: "This is Martha. Comrade Orsk, please go to Syktyvkar City and investigate the municipal hall's archive information room..."

Two days later, while Martha was still studying the recording's content, a familiar voice rang in her mind: "Comrade Martha, I can sync vision now."

Martha replied in the mental link: "Begin."

The view suddenly shifted; she was sharing vision with another person. It was midnight in Syktyvkar City now. Though the curtains were drawn, moonlight still slipped through the gaps, leaving a thin silver thread on the floor.

It wasn't hard for a Herrscher to read the text on the documents in the dark. Orsk pulled the first file from the pile: "Industrial Raw Material Transport Record 12.G." It had no fluff, detailing the transport vehicles' starting points, routes, destinations, and a cargo manifest.

Next was the second file: "Report on Industrial Equipment Migration in Syktyvkar's Surrounding Areas." Unlike the first, this one was filled with useless bureaucratic jargon. But it had an appendix containing a detailed annotated map of Syktyvkar, including a thorough transport system, and most importantly, it marked areas where industrial equipment was pending migration, in migration, or not migrating.

The last file was titled "Annual Report on Population Migration of This City." Its peculiarity lay in the signature—it was signed by the mayor. And it drained Martha's energy more, as its many platitudes were mixed with solid data. Fortunately, its attachment also included an annotated map of Syktyvkar.

Syktyvkar City had been actively participating in Fire Moth's industrial and population relocation plans. There was nothing strange about these files' content.

Martha stroked her chin. Intuition told her the breakthrough was inside. She said in the mental link: "Orsk, please put the two maps together."

"Alright."

"Then please trace the transport convoy's route on the population map." The population map was simpler, and drawing it out would make things clearer for Martha.

The transport convoy's destination was Syktyvkar's heavy industrial zone. On the way, it passed through Kyshtym Town, a zone under municipal jurisdiction. The population map showed this town's people had already been relocated half a year ago, and the industrial map showed its equipment was also fully transferred. Martha struggled to think, her eyes gazing at the unchanging scenery outside the window.

Half an hour later, just as Martha was about to share these findings with everyone, she closed her eyes, rubbed her forehead, and cursed under her breath: "I'm such an idiot."

Martha had noticed the irrationality of the transport convoy's route. If she'd traced the convoy's route on the first map, she'd have spotted the problem faster. The raw material convoy had no reason to exit the main highway and detour through Kyshtym Town—there was no population there, and no factories needing raw material supply.

So why go to Kyshtym Town? That was the breakthrough.

She walked out of the door she hadn't opened in two days. Andre was sitting there bored out of his mind, one hand propping up his chin, the other occasionally tapping on his laptop. The First Speaker had ordered him to assist Martha, and Martha had told him: don't bother her unless she comes out.

Two days without being able to break something had driven this hacker crazy. Seeing Martha finally emerge from the room, Andre's joy showed on his face before he quickly composed himself.

"Your findings?" Even though they were face to face, they still communicated through the mental link.

Andre, like a kid finding a chance to show off his toy, rattled on: "I found a command code used to open some place. Also..."