Pale Blue Dot - volume 5 - The Pale Blue Dot 5.7
Imported from SF2 with no description.
The panel in the Admiral's living quarters displayed a red light, indicating that he didn't wish to be disturbed. However, I had already set up permission to enter, so the doors slid open as I approached.
“I heard about what happened just now at the soldiers' mess…” White Wolf, his back to me, was busy with something, tilting his head as if searching for the right word. “Incident,” he finally said with a shrug. “Do I need to worry about a mutiny on the flagship?”
“No, I think everyone bought into the story.” It turned out that people had somewhat heard about how the purebred dog House used marriages to absorb mutt and repair their bloodlines. “Now, everyone’s just speculating on which German House's marriageable-age girl is so ‘lucky.’” The memory of those mocking expressions made me roll my eyes, but Richter found it amusing and let out a chuckle.
“As I said before, if you really intend to go that route, I wouldn’t oppose it,” he said, finishing what he was doing and turning to face me. Several small metal cubes floated beside him. “But I advocate for the freedom to love, so go ahead and pursue that ‘lucky marriageable girl’ with your own abilities.” He walked toward me, his gaze shifting as if recalling something. “And I know that those in the family are quite particular.”
“Oh…” Become a noble? That was something I had never considered. “I don’t have that thought at the moment.” Richter waved off my response, not taking it seriously. “Also, it might be best to avoid letting others stumble upon a blood-soaked scene like that again—it’s a bit too easily misunderstood.” I caught the cubes he suddenly tossed to me with my willpower, but a few slipped, hitting my chest. The blood on the metal cubes soaked into my shirt, leaving a red stain. “And it’s really hard to clean,” I said with a bit of a grievance.
“Not getting along with machines?” he teased, walking over to a cabinet and pressing a few buttons.
“Yeah…” I recalled various disasters. “Last time, the washing machine in the laundry room completely disintegrated my clothes.” It left me with only one change of clothing.
“For some reason, machines with disassembly and reassembly functions always tend to malfunction around psychics,” the cabinet slid open and rearranged itself, pushing out a white, square device. “Especially the stronger the psychic, the more pronounced it is. So I suggest you avoid these kinds of machines.” He extended a hand behind his back while pressing something on the white device with his other hand. “Give me your shirt.”
“So that’s why you insist on boiling water to brew coffee?” I removed my shirt and handed it to Richter. He glanced at the red stain before tossing the shirt into the machine. “I thought that was just some ‘commitment to taste’ of yours.” I tried not to sound too sarcastic.
“That’s one reason, but coffee brewed with different methods really does taste different,” he said as the machine started to hum. “You probably can’t find these old relics anymore. Back then, I almost had to ask the council to send one over because the washing machines kept making my pockets disappear or doing other bizarre things,” Richter said, tilting his head.
“Knowing I’m not the only one with this trouble is somewhat comforting,” I replied, scratching my ear.
“So…” Richter turned around, suddenly freezing in place with a raised eyebrow. “...no wonder others might think I’m abusing you.” He cleared his throat, then turned back to the machine, pressing something on it. “Sorry I didn’t notice earlier.” He sounded a bit awkward, which was unlike him.
“Uh…what?” I didn’t quite understand how he reached that conclusion.
“Anyway, let’s continue last month’s lesson,” he said, still facing away from me. “The definition of the self.” I felt him tugging at the metal cubes, and I resisted as trained. However, the ones stained with his blood were particularly difficult to control, while those with my blood were the opposite. “A part of the body is the easiest to perceive and acknowledge as ‘self,’ and blood is far more useful than hair.” He increased the pulling force, but I managed to prevent him from taking the cubes away.
“The effect of organs isn’t as good as blood—please don’t ask me how I know this,” he said, curling his left hand and increasing the force dramatically. I barely held on. “So in battles between psychics, this is often used to disrupt or at least compress the opponent’s consciousness field.” The metal cubes stained with his blood pressed closer to me, causing my consciousness field to shrink, which in turn weakened my control over the other cubes. “Central principle—the closer an object is to the edge of the consciousness field, the more power is required to dominate it, so compressing the field can effectively impact the opponent’s output.”
The small cubes stopped moving, no longer compressing my field. I noticed that today Richter was either deliberately going easy on me or was very distracted, as his output was much lower than usual.
“Psychics not from the council are unlikely to know these techniques,” he said, hunching over and resting his elbows on the white machine, looking somewhat dispirited. “So fighting against psychics isn’t something you need to prioritize, but it never hurts to be prepared.” He sighed, stood up straight, and turned to look at me. “I’m clearly not at my best today, so let’s stop here, okay?”
“Oh…okay.” I wasn’t sure what was wrong with Richter, but I nodded in agreement and released my consciousness field. He tossed the metal cubes into the sink.
“You’re bleeding from your nose again,” he said, a bit exasperated. “You’re really not good at this, are you?”
“Ah, sorry.” I quickly searched internally, finding the bleeding point and applying pressure.
Richter leaned back against the white machine, his hands resting on top of it. I heard the rhythmic tapping of his nails against the metal surface, then he glanced at the machine’s panel.
“Your clothes will take a while to finish washing,” he said, as if making a big decision, taking a deep breath. “Today, I’ll teach you something else.”
He gestured for me to come closer, then waved his hand over the cabinet, and a large flat mirror slid out from the side.
“Average psychics, because they’ve mastered such unimaginable power, often overlook many important things.” He stood next to me, and the mirror reflected our images.
I had been so exhausted lately that I hadn’t had the energy to groom myself—not that I ever really cared—but I really hadn’t looked in the mirror for a while. My swollen eye, paired with my unkempt and split-ended fur, made me look truly disheveled. And the unceasing nosebleed added a tragic element to the scene.
But I noticed something else—the sharply defined muscles, so chiseled they seemed angular, visible even through the fur. I’d gained ten kilograms over the past year. I’d thought it was just a growth spurt or something, but clearly, Arthur’s training had a significant impact.
“Knowledge is power,” Richter said softly, poking my chest and ribs. I nearly yelped—it hurt! He wasn’t even pressing hard, but it was so painful! “How does the defense field determine what harmful things to block and what essential things—like air—to let through?” White wolf lightly touched a few more places, and I couldn’t help but hiss in pain. “It’s knowledge. The defense field blocks what we perceive or ‘consider’ harmful, so knowledge is equivalent to power.” His fingers brushed over the fur on my abdomen, sending a ticklish sensation that made me shiver.
“I’ll give you an example: The principle of the regenerative medical chamber is to activate cells, allowing them to repair themselves, limited by the individual’s own tolerance, hence the usage limit per unit time.” He frowned slightly as he continued, “Dark fur can easily conceal bruises or severe subcutaneous bleeding. These minor injuries wouldn’t normally be an issue, but for someone who has reached the usage limit of a regenerative medical chamber, it’s a different story.”
Richter moved his wrist, slowly curling his little finger, then his ring finger and middle finger. I felt a warm current pulsing through my body.
“You need to understand the structure of blood vessels, the composition of the body, even the mechanisms of chemical reactions, to efficiently control them. Psychic abilities can be used to perform more refined treatments at the cellular or even atomic level, rather than simply applying physical pressure to stop bleeding.” As the warmth intensified, Richter’s eyes turned red.
"No, your existence circle is too strong; I can't interfere directly," he shook his head and said, his eyes turning back to blue. "Connect with me," Richter said after a moment of thought.
"Uh… what?" I wasn't quite sure what he wanted me to do.
"Open up to me, accept me," he said, almost chanting. "Reveal ourselves, our truest selves, to each other."
I couldn't fully grasp what he was trying to express, but something in those blue eyes made me swallow my doubts. It was a plea, almost desperate.
"This is the true purpose of psychic abilities," Richter continued to murmur. "Not for fighting, not for domination. It's to break down barriers, to trust and understand one another."
The air around us vibrated. I met those deep blue eyes and felt the intent Richter wanted to convey—an invitation, an invitation to explore an unknown world together. I could feel it, a trembling in my chest, a deep, undeniable longing.
But I had no idea how to respond to him. Richter had said that our consciousness of our physical existence—our bodies—was within our "existence circle," the most powerful and inviolable part of the conscious realm, something that other psychics couldn't typically interfere with.
So, how could I connect with Richter? Removing the boundaries of the self, the shackles of the physical body, would leave us without form, without identity. Perhaps expanding the boundaries of the self, incorporating the other into it, was the way.
Carefully, I began to extend myself bit by bit, letting my consciousness reach out like tendrils toward Richter, until I encountered a barrier. It was something, some insurmountable boundary, that I assumed was what kept individuals distinct, the basis of my own existence.
How could we cross this barrier and reach the other side? What allows us to transcend ourselves, to break through the impossible limits? I think I found the answer in those impossibly blue eyes.
The boundary disappeared, and our conscious realms touched, merged, and became one.
The low hum of machinery ceased, and the surrounding scenery vanished, leaving only us, existing within each other's consciousness. It was a boundless darkness, but within it, there was a glimmer of deep blue.
If I listened closely, the void wasn't entirely silent; there were two rhythmic pulses—our heartbeats. Beyond that, there were… memories? I could feel Richter's memories and thoughts within the conscious realm, right there, within reach.
Another sensation was… the physical body. It wasn't just the mind; I could clearly feel every tiny sensation in Richter's body, as if it were my own. This was probably why I could hear his heartbeat.
It was an indescribably unique experience. Our breathing, the scent in the air, even the movement of hair strands—all shared and open to each other without reservation.
And finally, there were the emotions, the most genuine, unmasked feelings of the moment.
Joy, tinged with curiosity, like proudly showing off a precious collection of pup.
"So…" I found that I could speak in this state, and my voice was quite clear. "You say this is the true purpose of psychic abilities?" I noticed my form was gradually taking shape, reflecting my current physical state—shirtless, with one swollen eye.
"Yes." Richter's voice came through, his outline starting to take the form of a white wolf, emerging from those deep blue eyes. "At least, that's how I understand it." He appeared as he did in the physical world, wearing that red uniform of a Admiral.
"Is this real?" I patted my cheeks and hesitantly pinched Richter's face, causing him to tilt his head slightly, apparently amused.
"You could say that." His explanation was a bit vague, but I could understand because the sensation was so real. "This state has several known characteristics," he continued to explain. "Shared perception and memories, as you've probably noticed."
I nodded, glancing at Richter's memories again. I didn't think it would be polite to rummage through them, so I didn't touch anything.
"When we connect, we can't lie," he squinted, looking me up and down. "For example…" Oh no, was he going to play truth or dare? "That time you put salt in my coffee, did you really mix up the salt and sugar?"
"It… it was really a mistake!" I hadn't even finished speaking before a wave of intense shame nearly overwhelmed me. I was sure Richter felt it too, as he smiled, making me want to bury my face in my hands, but it was clear that covering my eyes wouldn't help now.
"I should clarify. It's not that we can't lie, but we can't hide anything." His smile was genuinely beautiful. "But we can remain silent," he added. "Now, you can ask me a question, to make it fair."
"You…" I was a bit afraid this would offend Richter, but the urge to tease him won out. "Do you really have a cuckolding fetish?"
"Yes," he said, his smile fading, ears drooping as he looked at the ground. "It's the only way I can get excited; I'm just that kind of depraved wolf."
Although it wasn't the first time Richter had confessed something a bit… shocking to me, I was still taken aback. Until a sense of something being off crept in, and Richter suddenly burst out laughing.
"Oh, Rationalism above, the look on your face," he laughed until tears formed at the corners of his eyes. "So, do you understand now?" Richter finally asked after catching his breath. I shook my head, unsure of what he meant.
"We can tell when the other is lying, but we can choose to remain silent or not reveal the truth." Richter raised a finger to emphasize. "Connection only removes the barriers to communication, but the most important thing…" He pointed to his heart. "Is still our own will."
"And one more thing to note, 'connection' is only possible when all conscious barriers are removed; we've exposed our most vulnerable bellies to each other." He suddenly poked my side, making me flinch. "At this point, if the other party shows any malicious intent, you must immediately disconnect." Does this mean that connecting with non-psychics is also possible?
"As for its practical uses—what can 'connection' be used for?" He walked up to me and said. "The most common use is sharing knowledge or skills, which I'll demonstrate in a moment." His finger slowly moved, and I felt that warm flow again. "Hopefully, you won't need to manipulate emotions or memories, but when you need to block your own memories, giving the key to someone else ensures you don't accidentally unlock them."
"Why would I need to block my own memories?" I asked curiously, but I felt the darkness rising in Richter's heart at the question.
"Let's just say—some things are better left forgotten, for everyone's sake," he sighed, shaking his head to dispel the negative thoughts. "Or it could simply be to keep a secret. This kind of memory block can only be unlocked by the keyholder, so it can be very useful in certain situations." He tilted his head as if considering something. "It's said to be similar to the feeling of blacking out from drinking too much, but that's not the focus today."
The warmth running through me grew even hotter. "Because you've opened your conscious circle to me, I can…" Richter's right index finger gently traced the swollen side of my face, and the warm energy flowed through, making the swelling disappear.
"Wow." I lightly pressed the corner of my eye to check. "That's pretty convenient, comparable to a portable medical pod."
"Don't get it wrong; this is much more powerful than a medical pod." Richter huffed, sounding a bit displeased. "But if you don't have professional knowledge, definitely don't mess around." His finger traced along my collarbone, across my chest, down my ribs, and to my side. "Just the blood vessels alone have the endothelium, the muscle layer, and the blood cells within… Controlling things on a cellular level—if you get even one part wrong, the consequences would be disastrous." He continued to treat the bruises, and I felt the lumps disappear one by one, with a tingling sensation spreading through me, making me shiver. Richter chuckled. "Almost done."
I didn't want to admit it, but that smile made the blood rush to my head, and I could clearly feel my ears burning. Richter awkwardly cleared his throat, and I finally noticed the rapid, pounding heartbeat that seemed to shake the space around us. No… it wasn't just my heartbeat; it was… ours.
Not knowing how to respond to this situation, I turned my head to the side, looking into the infinitely extending darkness.
"So… um, is there any difference in how it feels to tell the truth?" I tried my best to ask casually, hoping to change the subject.
"Ah," Richter paused for a few seconds, perhaps contemplating how to proceed. "It might be easier to just show you directly." He cleared his throat again. "Your undisciplined, childish, and reckless antics always make me feel more alive than ever before."
My ears involuntarily stood up straight, and my eyes darted around. A certain... warmth blossomed in my chest, but I suspected that wasn’t the usual effect of telling the truth. Or maybe it was the exact effect of speaking honestly.
By Rationalism itself! It seemed there was only one way to find out.
"I like your eyes," I resolved, taking a deep breath before turning to meet Richter’s gaze. "That indescribable shade of blue is the most beautiful thing I've seen in the entire universe." Those perfect, incomparable wolf eyes.
There was no sense of discomfort or any other peculiar sensation, the kind one might expect when lying. So telling the truth doesn’t produce any special effects. How fascinating.
But perhaps what was even more intriguing was the wild resonance of our hearts.
"Oh... thank you." Richter didn’t look away, and we continued to stare at each other. I could clearly see my reflection in those deep blue eyes. "Someone else once said..."
He seemed about to say more, but by Rationalism itself, I did the only logical thing—I kissed that foolish wolf, cutting him off before he could continue rambling.
We shared our feelings, exploring each other. Everything in the boundless darkness exploded, turning into the purest light.