The next morning.
Anis and Neon were sleeping in. They were clearly exhausted from the previous day's mission at the sawmill and the subsequent work of organizing the outpost. Seeing how hard they had worked, Noah decided to let them rest.
He and Rapi were in the common area, finalizing the reports they had written together the night before. One detailed the mission to secure the construction equipment, and the other covered the operation at the sawmill. Both had to be submitted to the Central Government Office in the Ark.
"Alright, they're ready. Let's go turn these in," Noah said.
"I will accompany you," Rapi stated. "What about Anis and Neon?"
"Just let them be. They said they wanted to do some more organizing around the outpost anyway."
"Understood."
And with that, Noah and Rapi headed for the Ark's Central Government Office.
.
.
.
The Ark, outside the Central Government Office.
When they arrived, they found the area bustling with activity. Other commanders were milling about, some waiting impatiently, others sighing in frustration.
"Okay, I'm heading in to submit the reports. You're not coming with?" Noah asked.
"As I mentioned before, Commander, Nikkes are not permitted entry unless under special circumstances," Rapi reminded him.
"Oh, right. Okay. I'll be quick."
This was the second time Noah had come here to file a report. The first time, being new to the process, he'd had Rapi accompany him and help with the paperwork. She had waited outside then, too, explaining that it was better if she didn't see the "unbecoming side" of a Commander's duties. Noah hadn't understood what she meant at the time, but on this second visit, he was beginning to get the picture.
The inside of the office was just as chaotic as the scene outside. Office clerks stood by looking helpless or offered strained smiles as they tried to placate enraged commanders. Noah got in line and waited. The commander in front of him was pleading his case, his voice thick with injustice.
"How are we supposed to live on a salary this small?" the commander demanded.
"It was a simple transport operation, and you were paid the standard rate for that contract," the clerk replied dispassionately.
"What am I supposed to do with this?! I went to the surface, lost two Nikkes, and nearly died myself!"
"Commander, casualties and accidents during an operation are a reflection of the commander's own capabilities," the clerk stated coldly.
"This is unbelievable!"
"Furthermore, your pay is calculated based on the mission's difficulty rating."
Defeated, the commander snatched his meager payment and stormed out. It was Noah's turn. He sat down at the desk.
"Good morning. How can I help you?" the clerk asked, her tone shifting to one of professional courtesy.
"I'm here to submit these mission reports," Noah said, sliding the two data slates across the desk.
The clerk examined the reports, her eyes flicking between them and her monitor.
"Ah, you must be Commander Noah. We've heard about you," she said, her expression softening slightly.
"Heard about me?"
"The word is that you're a commander with extensive combat experience. The missions you've undertaken have been high-difficulty, and we've been told they were a great help to the Ark."
"I see."
"Last time, you requested a direct deposit to your account. Would you like to do the same this time?"
"Split it, please," Noah said. "Half to my account, and the other half as a Mission Completion Certificate."
"Very well," the clerk said.
She processed the transaction, depositing half of his earnings. A moment later, a printer whirred to life, and she handed him a single sheet of paper.
"Here is your Mission Completion Certificate."
"Thank you."
Noah took the certificate. Even with half his pay already in the bank, the amount printed on the paper was enough for four people to live on comfortably for some time.
"We look forward to your continued service for the sake of humanity," the clerk said with a polite smile.
Stepping back outside, Noah now understood why Rapi preferred to wait. The scene was filled with despair. Commanders sighed heavily, leaning against walls or staring blankly at the sky. It was a far cry from the heroic image the Ark projected.
"Are you finished, Commander?"
Noah turned to find Rapi standing beside him, her arrival as silent as ever.
"Uh… yeah. All done."
"Shall we return to the outpost, then?"
"No, let's head to the supply store first. There are a few things we need to pick up."
"Understood."
The Ark had numerous supply stores, but Noah was a practical man, always looking for the best value and buying only what was essential. Of course, he would occasionally indulge Anis or Neon if they wanted something, but he never spent extravagantly.
Inside the store, Noah pushed a cart while looking over a list on his device. Rapi walked alongside him, looking at the same list and helping to find the items.
"I took a look at your shower room last night," Noah said. "The problem is the boiler. The one for my quarters and the main facilities works fine, but it seems like it's not connected to the Nikke barracks."
"You do not need to concern yourself with such things for our sake, Commander."
"Rapi," Noah said, stopping the cart and turning to face her. "Do you honestly think I can rest easy knowing my own squadmates are taking cold showers?"
Rapi had no response to that. Noah looked back at his list and steered the cart toward the food aisle.
"Rapi, how are we on rations?"
"If it is just for you, Commander, our current supply will last at least two weeks."
"Then let's buy some more."
After picking up some additional foodstuffs and other necessities, including a few items Rapi recommended, Noah surveyed their haul.
"This should be enough," he said.
"Is there anything you require for yourself, Commander?" Rapi asked.
"No, I'm good. Let's check out."
As they waited in the checkout line, a question that had been nagging at Noah finally surfaced.
"Rapi."
"Yes?"
"I know I'm still getting used to things, but… is the life of a commander really this hard?"
Rapi was silent for a long moment before she finally spoke.
"It is," she began. "Publicly, commanders are portrayed as elites who have received a formal education at the Officer's Academy, heroes who will reclaim the surface alongside their Nikkes. The reality, however, is that this 'formal education' lasts less than a year."