Chapter 471: Junktown
The yellowish-brown wall of the sandstorm rolling up on the horizon resembled a moving mountain range, sweeping up gravel and metallic debris, advancing at a steady pace toward the direction of Junktown.
Wind speed readings continued to climb. The air was thick with heavy dust and electrostatic interference.
Ryo timed it perfectly. Just as the vanguard of the sandstorm was about to hit Junktown's outer perimeter, he adjusted his motive system's output, simulating a state of low energy and unstable operation. With slightly heavy and staggering steps, he emerged from the swirling sand and dust, walking toward the tightly sealed, heavy alloy gate.
Multiple pict-casters mounted above the gate immediately swiveled, locking onto him.
A voice laden with static interference blared from a vox-caster, somewhat muffled amidst the howling of the sandstorm: "Halt! State your identity! State your business!"
Ryo stopped at a sufficient distance from the gate, raising one arm in a gesture to shield himself from the sand, simultaneously indicating that he carried no obvious weapons.
His voice transmitted through his built-in speakers, his tone adjusted to sound hoarse and exhausted from a long trek: "A traveler seeking shelter... The sandstorm is too massive... My transport is damaged..."
A small observation slit on the side of the gate slid open. A pair of vigilant eyes scanned him, lingering for a moment on his slightly battered yet still structurally complex mechanical body.
"A traveler? In a place like this? You don't look like an ordinary drifter." The guard's voice was laced with suspicion.
"I used to be a technician... later transitioning to archeological excavation work," Ryo answered, maintaining a steady tone. "My squad and I were searching for ruins in the 'Rust Canyon' to the northwest... We encountered a cave-in and... a raider attack. I was the only one who escaped, and I lost the majority of my wargear."
He turned slightly, displaying the unadorned connection ports and slight abrasion marks on his back left by the removal of his heavy equipment, which corroborated his story.
"Archeology?" The guard's tone remained full of distrust. "What could possibly be worth digging up in this hellhole besides garbage and radiation?"
"That is not the case." From the weathered-looking toolbag he carried, Ryo retrieved an object wrapped in shock-absorbent material.
He opened it carefully, revealing a palm-sized, intricately structured metallic component. Its surface bore ancient patterns, and despite being coated in dust, its extraordinary manufacturing craftsmanship was still evident.
He raised it slightly so the guard behind the observation slit could see it clearly.
"We discovered... some ancient things. Unfortunately, most of it was buried underneath the cave-in. I only had time to salvage this single sample."
The guard's gaze lingered on the "archeological discovery" for a few seconds.
The technological style of the object was entirely different from the standard-issue hive city wargear he was familiar with, carrying a certain ancient and exquisite aura. To a certain extent, this increased the credibility of Ryo's story.
A person possessing such technological expertise (even if only for identification and excavation) was indeed likely more valuable than an ordinary drifter.
"Name?" The guard's tone softened slightly, but he stuck to protocol.
"Karl." Ryo provided a pre-prepared pseudonym, common and difficult to trace.
"Wait here. We need to request authorization." The observation slit slid shut.
Ryo stood quietly in place, enduring the battering of the wind and sand. His motive systems maintained a low hum, as if on the verge of stalling at any moment.
He could feel hidden auspexes conducting a more detailed scan of him, analyzing his energy signature and checking for hazardous items.
A few minutes later, a small side door next to the main gate, just wide enough for a single person, slowly opened with the hiss of hydraulics.
A guard wearing a hazmat suit bearing the heraldry of House Van Saar stepped out, holding a handheld auspex scanner.
He signaled for Ryo to step forward. "Raise your hands."
Ryo cooperatively complied.
The guard conducted a full-body sweep with the scanner, focusing heavily on his mechanical structures and personal belongings.
The scanner emitted several chimes, primarily concentrating on the energy source and hidden weapon systems within Ryo's body.
"The reactor inside your body... its energy reading is not low. Also, what is that inside your arms?" the guard asked warily.
"Systems necessary to maintain life support and basic mobility," Ryo explained, his voice remaining steady. "Inside the arms are some integrated tools and self-defense weapons. Out in the wastes, one always needs something for protection.
"The power output is highly limited; it's just for dealing with mutated creatures and... people with malicious intent."
He deliberately caused the energy circuitry of the Arc Scourge to simulate some unstable fluctuations, making it look like a sign of damage or aging.
The guard stared at the data on the scanner for a long time, then looked at Ryo's expressionless mechanical face, and finally at the "archeological discovery" he had just displayed.
Ultimately, he seemed to have made a judgment.
A down-and-out archeologist possessing a certain degree of technical value, in poor condition, and carrying weapons that didn't seem to pose much of a threat, requesting temporary shelter during a sandstorm—this aligned with Junktown's tacit policy of occasionally absorbing external technical talents.
"Go on in." The guard stepped aside to open the passage. "Go straight to the administration office to register. Someone will tell you the rules here. Don't run around, and don't cause trouble. Once the sandstorm ends, the higher-ups will decide whether you stay or leave."
Ryo nodded, muttering a low "Thank you," before stepping into Junktown.
The small alloy door closed heavily behind him, shutting out the howling sandstorm.
Standing inside Junktown, the first thing Ryo noticed was the difference in the air.
Although it still carried the scent of recycled gas, it was far cleaner than the outside, clearly having been processed by an effective filtration system.
Illumination came from floodlights installed atop the buildings, providing the primary light source under the dim sky caused by the sandstorm.
His sensor systems initiated a multi-dimensional scan the moment he entered, while he simultaneously maintained the slightly bewildered and cautious observational posture expected of his "Karl" persona.
The layout of the town clearly exhibited a radial plan centered around that massive, twisted metallic structure—the highly recognizable wreckage of the starship's bow.
All major thoroughfares pointed toward the central sector. The closer one got to the center, the sturdier the architectural structures became, and the level of security noticeably increased.
He noted fixed sentry posts at several entrances leading to the bottom of the bow, as well as patrol squads wearing uniform attire and bearing the house heraldry, pacing back and forth along set routes.
The attire of the residents was quite uniform, mostly consisting of dense, greyish-black full-body hazmat suits. The styles were similar, but differences in rank could be seen in the details—some suits featured more interface ports and add-on modules, while others were relatively basic.
The vast majority of people wore respirator masks or sealed helmets.
However, despite the protection, the exposed facial skin of many individuals, or the complexions visible through their visors, exhibited an unhealthy pallor or ashen hue. Some had heavy, dark circles around their eyes, and suppressed coughing could occasionally be heard from passersby.
(End of Chapter)