17. Battle
The colossal spider descended slowly from the air, gliding along its silver threads. Among its numerous, eerily long legs, one suddenly shot toward us with the sharp force of a javelin hurled by an expert. Its speed seemed to warp time itself for a fleeting moment.
Kana and I instinctively leapt in opposite directions, dodging the attack. The spider's leg pierced the ground where we had stood moments before, stabbing into the lunar surface like a syringe. A faint pink cloud bloomed at the impact, dissipating fleetingly into the gray terrain.
"Neo!"
Kana's voice called out from not too far away.
"You okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine!" I shouted back. "What about you, Kana?"
"I'm good!"
The leg, once embedded, retracted to the spider's body with a slithering, almost serpentine motion, smooth yet unsettling. We maneuvered around the pink haze and drew closer to each other. Fortunately, neither of us was injured. But in our haste to dodge, we had thrown ourselves to the ground, and our uniforms were now caked with lunar dust.
"What do we do?" Kana said, her face almost tearful. "Where are we supposed to wash these?"
"Once we get to Earth, we'll find a washing machine. There's bound to be a laundromat somewhere."
"Then we'd better get to Earth fast!"
"Yeah, but first…"
I looked up at the spider's main body. A humanoid silhouette clad in an outdated spacesuit sat at its core, gazing down at us with the air of a ruler lounging on a throne.
"We've got to deal with that thing."
Kana, still fighting back her distressed expression, glared at the spider.
But we weren't given time to think. The spider's attacks came relentlessly, like thunderclaps before a storm. As soon as one leg pulled back from the ground, another lunged forward. We scrambled to dodge, caught in a barrage of strikes that left no room for pause.
The assault was like a sudden downpour, ceaseless and overwhelming. Though the massive legs moved at a speed we could track with our eyes, the sheer frequency of the attacks was dizzying. It felt as if the spider was deliberately trying to drive us apart, each strike pushing Kana and me farther from one another, like lovers torn apart by fate.
"Neo!"
"Kana!"
We called out to each other, but our voices grew fainter with distance. A sudden premonition hit me—that we might be separated forever. Strangely, this thought didn't stir deep sadness or dread. I noticed this with a quiet surprise.
So, if we part ways here, I'll be alone again.
While dodging the spider's 36th leg strike, I let my mind wander to this idea. I liked being alone. Kana had burst into my life out of nowhere, and without her, I never would've dreamed up something as wild as going to Earth. I wouldn't be facing this kind of danger, either. I could've lived out my days on the moon's quiet surface, discharging slowly like a discarded machine, savoring an eternity of deep, silent years.
And above all, I wouldn't have had to lie.
As I sidestepped the spider's 107th attack, I reflected on lying. In all my countless years—too many to recall clearly—I had never lied until I met Kana. I had always believed lying was akin to death, something I'd never do until my final moment. On the moon, lying was the most alien concept of all. I had never even heard another humanoid robot utter the word "lie."
We weren't taught about lying in school. It was simply a given that we wouldn't lie, an instinct etched into our CPUs.
I recalled the moment I told my first lie—claiming to Kana that I was human, a bold and absurd falsehood. As I dodged the spider's 108th attack, I sank into that memory, feeling as if it belonged to a distant past, a thousand years ago. A strange exhilaration washed over me, pulling me into a far-off place.
Perhaps because of that distraction, I failed to dodge the 108th strike. A sharp leg struck my left arm, and the impact sent me crashing to the ground. It was just one arm lost, but the cumulative software damage from lying had been eroding my system since meeting Kana. The weight of those lies made me collapse, fragile and fleeting.
My fall must have looked dramatic, because the spider ceased attacking me. It likely assumed I was already done for. Instead, its focus shifted to Kana, doubling the intensity of its assault on her. Her figure had vanished from my sight, though I could faintly hear her calling my name from far away. We were probably more than a kilometer apart by now. Even with her speed, reaching me would take time. More than that, I was worried about the barrage now concentrated on her.
Losing an arm left me immobile, and a vague fear crept in that my CPU might shut down permanently if this continued. Yet, strangely, my energy began to recover bit by bit. In a crater devoid of sunlight or generators, where was this energy coming from?
Glancing to my side, I noticed a heavily damaged lunar rover lying nearby. A 2-meter-square solar panel, discarded like an abandoned sign, lay next to it. My crisis detection system had activated instinctively, extending thin copper wires from my spine-like core to connect with the rover's panel. The question was, where was the light coming from for the solar panel to function?
Looking up, I saw countless spotlights, packed like pomegranate seeds, casting intense beams across the crater. Their light powered the panel, gradually restoring my body. Feeling the energy flow, I prepared to stand again.