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Searching For Andromeda 12 Towards Andromeda

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Made several revisions at the end of chapter 11.

"Ephraim . . ." She mutters, and then browsed her phone. She opened her Facebook and then scanned through Raim Hughes' timeline. She stared intently as she scanned the contents. There was a gut feeling she had that she couldn't put her finger into.

"Leader. . ."

And it wasn't something pleasant.

**

"Your mistake, Lancelot," Andromeda says. "Is that—you're wrong to trust me."

Ephraim woke up in the middle of the night with the tic of the clock seemingly getting hauntingly louder. He sat straight as he catches his breath. He couldn't quite remember his dream—but he saw something. Someone.

A girl with silver locks glistening against the moonlight. Her blade radiant from the moon rays as its sharp end pointed to the man holding a corpse—

Andromeda.

Ephraim couldn't quite remember very well how he fell to sleep after the meeting. He had browsed through Webnovel to read the book he accidentally found a few days ago. He was engrossed in an interesting book. He lost track of the time he had fallen asleep, yet he was more than certain he slept past 12 AM. The last memory he could recall is that he was scrolling through the pages, about the eleventh chapter.

His gaze fell to his phone. It was already 3 in the morning. Ephraim shut his eyes for several seconds, listening to the tick of the clock. It was louder than the ones in their house. He always hated that sound—even as he thinks, or even when he tries to shallow his breaths, time doesn't seem to stop. He disliked the fact that no matter how many times humans tend to slow down; time was always going forward ceaselessly. n.o.body could turn back the time. For Ephraim, time was the real enemy. No human could defeat it.

Ephraim stood up to the balcony doors, which were made of gla.s.s, and was covered in an almost-transparent curtain. He opened the doors as he welcomed the cold ocean breeze. The scent of sand and cold seawater.

He had a view of the deep—the moon illuminating the seemingly perpetual array of ocean water. The sea was blue in the day, but it was grey at night. Ephraim ambled to the cold terrace, leaning to the porch. He stared at the full, bright moon. Ephraim, for a long time, didn't really have the time to admire the sceneries laid before him. He was fixated with the past.

But now, in the odd time of 3 AM—

He learned to admire the present.

He eyed the ocean—and then he narrowed his eyes as he tried to look at the distance. It was a bit blurry now. He wasn't wearing his gla.s.ses, after all. Ephraim turned to come back to his room and take a long bath. It was useless to go back to sleep when he himself didn't want to let slumber take the better of him.

He must think.

Not about his existential crisis; no.

He must strategize.

Strategize how to win. Strategize how he would be able to get the most-desired "important object" in ANDROMEDA.


If the former graduates with failing grades cannot do it—

Then, he, a scholar and a young man with a keen mind must be able to.

**

Peru's climate is known to be similar to the countries in the tropics. It was already a several degree Celsius hot in Lima. The team left the penthouse exactly 8 in the morning and decided to shop for some supplies in Lima. It seemed the president did provide their gear, amongst many other things. Ephraim told them the president missed a few types of equipment they would need.

"Rope . . . really?" Samuel says. "Are you serious?"

"Well, Samuel," Ephraim answers. "We're going to the ruins. Underground. We will need ropes."

"This isn't really what I signed up for," Samuel says, and then c.o.c.ked a grinning smirk. "I like it."

"are you sure, Team Leader?" Asks Esmeralda. ". . . I-it's not like I'm . . . against it. It's just that . . . aren't we deviating from the task at hand, as Hiroaki-san had said?"

"Well, you're right," Berthold says, agreeing with Esmeralda. "Ephraim?"

"Hm," Ephraim smiles as he nods. "I understand your sentiments. Esmeralda,"

"Y-yes!"

"Don't worry. We will be checking ANDROMEDA first,"

"R-really?"

"Aw, lame!" Samuel says from a distance.

"Yes, and when we don't find anything, we will go to Machu Picchu," Ephraim says. "Don't worry."

"Well, isn't it more useful to divide the team so it'd be faster?" Samuel asks. "I think it'll be a waste of time for us to go to ANDROMEDA first, and then in the citadel."

"Actually, I think Sam's right." Says Berthold. "But I disagree with him,"

"Huh? Whaaattt?" Samuel frowns.

"For starters, we're not searching the premises in just a day, so it would be more of a waste if we divide," says Berthold. "Right, Leader?"

"Yes," Ephraim answers. "Excavating is done in several days, or weeks, depending on the archeological site. It will be wiser to go to ANDROMEDA first and see if we could find anything or otherwise."

"So we're really going to spend several days in a boring, isolated lab?" Samuel grunts. "I would die! Literally!"

"How?" Esmeralda asks.

"Boredom, Hag!" Samuel exclaims. "I didn't sign up for this,"

Esmeralda giggles. "Have you been listening, Shorty? That's why Team Leader decided to head to Machu Picchu in case we fail to find things."

"Ooh," Samuel exclaims. "Stupid, I'm listening! I'm just not sure how we would know we're NOT actually finding anything out there. Like . . . we don't even know what's the research supposed to be."

"You got a point," says Berthold. "We don't actually know what we're searching for. It could be a serum for a virus or a cure. Or it could be a monster lurking."

"That's creepy," Samuel says. "But I ain't a fan of fiction! I need friggin' facts to support a claim. That's why there's RESEARCH,"

"Well, it's the purpose of 'searching.'" Says Ephraim as he flashed a smile. "We're searching for ANDROMEDA's hidden treasure, Samuel."—says Ephraim, as he pats Samuel's head, and then walks with the team towards the cruiser that'll pick them up, leaving Samuel touching his ruffled hair.

"Sometimes, I wonder if you really have an exceptional mind," Esmeralda says bluntly as Samuel catches up to them bantering. "Or you're just good at storing information."

**

After shopping to Lima, and (somewhat) exploring and touring to its magnificent sceneries and admiring the vicinity (by taking pictures and eating Lima's specialties and delicious street food), the task force decided to head to the lab as per the plan. Peru's temperature was already hot at noon when they had arrived through their destination. Ephraim and the others had gone through the pillars and had talked to tourists as well as guides regarding Machu Picchu before they decided to head to ANDROMEDA.

The original plan was that they would head to ANDROMEDA first, which had an established road and was situated in a place where even a car could pa.s.s through (although it is abandoned now, meaning scattered debris could be found everywhere). The abandoned forensics lab wasn't situated in Machu Picchu, after all. It was kilometers away from the ancient ruins. It was shawled beyond trees with towering heights and was in a seemingly post-modern design.

Following the original plan, they had a few hours' ride before they arrived in ANDROMEDA. It was indeed shawled with moss, covered in trees and branches scattered across its paths. It didn't look like a s.p.a.ce station at all—it had a worn-out iron gate with intricate patterns, and a mossy, unused fountain with dead algae inside the premises. The 'abandoned laboratory' itself didn't look much like a science lab. It looked like a mansion. An abandoned mansion.

"This is . . . ANDROMEDA?"

"Its lab, to be precise." Samuel answers. "It doesn't look like a lab to me, personally."

"I don't think you're alone with that sentiment, Sam . . ." Says Ephraim, as he walks forward to the 'laboratory'—its doors were closed, shut tight.

"Aha, you can't lock pick, right?" Samuel asks, stifling his laugher. "Don't worry, Lame Leader, I'll—"

CLICK.

Before Ephraim could hear the other end of Samuel's sentence, the double doors opened, creaking eerily, as if it was from a scene or an excerpt from a book or horror film.

The one who unlocked the doors was Hiroaki, an unusual-looking key in his hand. He appeared out of nowhere once again, and he was, as usual, had pa.s.sed undetected by anyone.

"Wha—you're here!" Samuel exclaims. "Ninja guy!"

"That's rude, Sam!" Esmeralda whispers.

"But the guy's basically a ninja!" Samuel excitedly says. "Look, no one noticed him!"

"Aha . . . even I cannot believe it, but I really can't detect his presence." Berthold says.

Ephraim eyed Hiroaki, who took a step back.

"That key," Ephraim says. "May I have it?"

Hiroaki stares blankly at Ephraim for a second, as if to a.n.a.lyze what Ephraim had said, and then after a minute, he hands him the key.

"Thank you," Ephraim says politely, and then proceeds to put the key to his pocket.

"Now, everyone," he says. "Please remember your jobs, and above all, be careful. This is a building that had stood since the 1980s. It would be possible the building may collapse anytime."

"So be careful. Your gears are equipped for such scenarios. Be sure to click the beeper attached to your hands. It'll send your location to me. If I'm the one trapped, then it would send my location to all of you. But if it's all of us, then it'll be sent to the HR."

The team nodded.

"d.a.m.n, it's like I'm really goin' to a quest," says Samuel. "It kinda feels like a quest or something."

"Always remember your posts." Says Ephraim. "Whatever data you think is relevant—little or not. Consider that 0.01 percent."

Ephraim flashed his smile. "Now, scatter. Let's go, team!"

"Osu!"

**

George Denmark smiles as he stares at the spectacle. The room was filled with screens covering different angles of the vicinity. The scope was too perfect and was colorized. It was one of the top quality cameras you could buy in the market—it had a colorized night vision and can cover the entirety of a room with just a single lens.

He leaned to his chair and then caressed his beard as he sees each of the team scatter one by one. Each of them heading towards different parts of the 'lab'. George Denmark—UHE's president—sipped his 1947 Cheval Blanc, a bottle with a $304,375 price. He eyed them one by one, and then afterwards, his gaze was only set to one.

Ephraim Ignacio Hughes.

He smirks as he sips through the gla.s.s. He sees him in every angle he could possibly want. He switched the screen to Esmeralda briefly, and then to Samuel, Berthold, and then, to Hiroaki.

Until he went back to Ephraim. Ephraim Ignacio Hughes, who was examining every corner ever so eagerly, with his journal on his other hand. He was taking note of details and was scribbling every unusual thing he could find. But even this eager and keen-eyed child couldn't possibly see the small lenses of the cameras on every corner of ANDROMEDA's lab. It was far from possible.

George Denmark smiles, as he sees Ephraim getting more and more serious.

It amused him.

"President,"

George Denmark stopped drinking his wine as his gaze drifted to his butler, Alphonse. He smiles at him, and then drank once more. He was inside a room exclusive only for him and only Alphonse, out of any servants in the manor, was allowed to go inside.

"What is it, Alphonse?"

"Your wife is here." The butler says. "She's bringing someone else with her,"

"Ah, she's here. . ." George smiles. "Who's with her?"

"It's a woman named Joana Hughes, I believe."

The president flashed a smile to his butler. His smile was charming, and an indication of a pleasant surprise. George had a soft spot over unexpected visitors.

"Let them in." He says. "It seems the show will have to be delayed a little bit."


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Searching For Andromeda 12 Towards Andromeda summary

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