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'Still... what the hell...'

Maybe he should not have been surprised. Professor Obel was indeed a distinguished scientist who had made great contributions to humanity, but the Antarctic Center was the administrative center of the whole Quadrant. With two hundred million people concentrated in Falcon Scott, there must have been a whole lot of distinguished people waiting for their turn to be evacuated.

Beth led him to the kitchen and put a kettle on the stove. Now that they were not busy trying to keep the caravan from falling apart, Sunny noticed that the young woman looked a bit haggard in comparison to how she had been at LO49.

There were dark circles under her eyes, a slight uncertainty to her movements, and a grim slant to her brow. Beth's temper, however, had not changed one bit.

"Tell me straight... is the wall going to hold?"

Sunny lingered for a bit, stumped by the frank question.

"How should I know? Sure, it is going to hold... until it doesn't."

Beth scoffed, pouring synthetic tea into three cheap alloy cups.

"And yet you seem to be terribly calm."

Sunny scratched the back of his head in confusion.

"Do I seem calm? Well, I guess I am. I mean, what's the worst that can happen?"

The young woman stared at him with outrage.

"Death! You can die!"

He thought about it for a few moments.

"I'd rather not die, of course. But death is definitely way better than some other things. Believe me."

Sunny had lived through several ghastly experiences himself, and still remembered a few of the harrowing nightmares he had been subjected to by his shadowy steed. It seemed that he had developed an abnormally high tolerance to pain and fear somewhere along the way, without even noticing.

Of course, his aloofness would look strange to a mundane person.

Sunny opened his mouth, thinking that he should probably try to console Beth, somehow, but at that moment, Professor Obel finally appeared - sparing them both a moment of awkwardness.

"Ah, Major Sunless! How nice of you to spare time for this old man."

The three of them settled behind a small dining table, enjoying tea. At first, Sunny was the one doing most of the speaking.

"...so, city defenses are in good condition for now. Ah, but we expect a big assault tomorrow. Make sure to remain inside, and don't go to the surface levels of the building, no matter what happens."

Beth and Professor Obel shared a glance. For some reason, the young woman seemed to be unhappy with her mentor.

"Yes, everyone received instructions on how to behave when an air attack alert is activated. Thank you for reminding us, young man."

Sunny nodded, then hesitated for a while. Eventually, he asked in a cautious tone:

"I am sorry to ask, Professor... but why are you still here? I would think that you would be put on the priority list for the evacuation."

Every civilian in the city was designated as a member of a certain group, each having a different... value.

The high-value citizens were meant to be ferried across the strait first, with all the rest placed in a long queue by a randomized algorithm. Various factors could affect one's "weight" in the algorithm, though - families with young children had a much better chance of being placed higher, for example, while people with genetic defects would be placed lower.

Citizenship level also affected the algorithm, which meant that non-citizens from the local version of the outskirts would be evacuated last.

'Figures...1

However, none of it had anything to do with Professor Obel. By all accounts, he should have been on one of the first ships out of the harbor. The giant vessels had been coursing between Falcon Scott and Eastern Antarctica for several days now, bringing many millions of people away.

Beth gave the old man a scathing glance.

"Yes, Professor. Why are you still here?"

Before he could say anything, the young woman turned to Sunny and said with indignation:

"Believe it or not, the old f... the Professor gave up his position on the priority list, saying that he wouldn't leave without his assistant. And since I have nothing to do with the high-value group, we are both stuck in the standard selection group now. Gods only know when we'll be assigned a placement in the queue, let alone get to leave!"

Sunny blinked a couple of times.

"Is that true, Professor?"

The old man looked down in embarrassment.

"Oh... you kids don't understand. I am an old man, you know? My bones still hurt from the long weeks spent on the road. Can't I rest a little before jumping on a ship?"

Beth scoffed, and this time, Sunny was inclined to agree.

'What kind of bullcrap reason is that?'

There was obviously something deeper going on. Hopefully, the Professor simply did not want to leave Beth behind... which was already stupid... if he was on some self-sacrificial mission, though, Sunny had to set him straight.

He opened his mouth to say something, but at that moment, the kid he had heard earlier barged into the kitchen, holding a makeshift toy in her hands.

"Grandpa Obel! Grandpa Obel! It broke!"

Professor Obel gave Sunny an apologetic look, then smiled at the child and picked up the toy.

"What? It broke all by itself, huh? Well, don't worry... I'll fix it up again. Your friend is going to be as good as new in no time..."

Sunny stared at the two of them, then said in a subdued tone.

"Professor, there's a difference between being brave and being suicidal. You have to get on a ship as soon as possible. The wall is not going to hold back the enemy much longer. Not everyone will..."

The old man patted the child on the head, then simply looked at Sunny and smiled.

"All the more reason for the army to make sure that it holds for as long as possible, then."

'It's not as if we're not trying! Wait... isn't that what I said myself?'

Sunny winced, then finished his tea in one gulp and stood up.

"I guess you are right. I'll be going, then."

He glanced at Beth.

"Contact me if you need anything."

With that, Sunny left the small apartment and returned to the surface.

Picking up the devil's needle, he grunted and put it back on his shoulder.

'Damned Professor... as if I don't have enough headaches, already...'

Grumbling quietly, Sunny carried the heavy needle as he headed toward the distant barracks.