Her name, typed up neatly at the top of the paper, is the first thing he sees. Her age: six months. Parents out of the picture. He can't believe it: it's real. It's happening at last.
The other person's hand rests on his own. "Our baby girl," they say. "Our lovely girl."
"She's gonna be ours soon," he agrees. "We should get the room cleaned up for her."
"Hmm." He can hear the smile in their voice. "Okay. Let's do that today."
Her room is beautiful. The other person has painted murals on two of the walls, one of a starry sky and one of a beautiful, sunny beach. Her cot has the prettiest solar system mobile, and he's put up a few framed pictures of dolphins and other fascinating marine animals. Whatever other surfaces are available have been painted blue and pink and as many other colours as they can get a hold of; they don't clash, somehow, due to the other person's careful planning, but meld together into one bright and vibrant piece of wonderful art. It's a shame she's not old enough to enjoy it yet.
"You think I should paint her name on the door?" the other person asks. "Is that too much?"
"No," he smiles, "that's perfect."
Stroheim wakes him up just before sunrise, as they're about to pass through a gap between two smooth mountains leading down to the coast. It's just beginning to get light, and he can make out the tiny temporary camp that has been set up on the beach. Cars run back and forth out of it, and he can see some sort of military barrier a little way inland, keeping hundreds of tiny vehicles at bay.
Most importantly, however, not half a mile off the coast, he sees the thing.
It's big. As big as one of the mountains they just flew past, or bigger. Its shadow is already beginning to fall towards the beach, the long black area of shade covering the area of a small town at least. The creatures who built such a monstrosity must be… enormous, he thinks, to justify that much pure size; or maybe there's hundreds and hundreds of human-sized ones, all ready to pounce on the bipedal world. He's not sure which option is worse.
The thing is smooth, and black, and curved in an unnatural way. It reminds him of a black jelly bean, only somewhat less appetising. More… threatening. And it's floating.
At first, he thinks it's a trick of the light, that there must be something underneath the thing to support it against the waves beneath; then, he notices that the shadow doesn't touch, anywhere, and swallows. Suddenly the sea looks a whole lot further away than it did before.
In front of him, Kakyoin makes a noise halfway between a moan and a whimper; exactly how he feels. Even Stroheim, who presumably has seen this thing before, seems awestruck.
"There she is, boys. The Obelisk."
"The Obelisk…" breathes Kakyoin. "My god. I never thought it'd be…" He shakes his head quickly. "Unbelievable."
Stroheim grunts. "You better start believing it, my friend. This, until we can find out what they want from us, is the reality."
Kakyoin just nods.
He can't make a sound.
On her birthday, he gives her the bracelet that has been passed down in his family for generations, ever since what's-his-name Joestar decided that his son should be called Jonathan. It's a plain metal chain, sturdy but light, with a simple plaque in the centre.
She twists and turns the bracelet on her wrist, listening to its vague jingling. "I'm… part of the family?" she asks, almost not believing it.
"Of course you are," he says. "You're our daughter. Nothing else matters."
She looks up at him and breaks into one of those massive beaming grins that has his heart melting every time. "Th-thanks, Dad! I – I won't lose it, I promise!"
She keeps her promise.
The base is packed with military types like Stroheim; all running backwards and forwards, carrying strange instruments and boxes. He sees a few people with lab coats like his; otherwise, it's more of the same camouflage. Much good that'll do in an attack if the creatures navigate by sound or infrared, of course; he makes a mental note to let Stroheim know.
"One of the boys will show you two to your quarters," Stroheim shouts, over the clatter and crowds, "but first we need to take you both to see our resident medical man. Just give your bags to Private Nijimura over there." He gestures towards the nearest uniform, a slouchy kind of guy with two scars crossing his face.
Jotaro obeys, reluctantly, and is only slightly comforted by the wide-eyed Nijimura giving a lazy salute and half-shouting, "I'll look after your stuff, mister professor, sir!" By the looks of it, Kakyoin is equally reluctant; but what choice do they have? They're army lackeys now. They have to deal with it.
They also have to deal with the 'medical man', a pretty-boy type with an overly fancy hairdo for someone in the military. Stroheim introduces him as 'Doctor Higashita', and the guy – really he can't be any older than Jotaro, is he even out of medical school yet? – laughs: "Oh, please, it's Josuke! I can't go shovin' medicine into ya and you not call me my first name."
It's people like that that make him regret wanting a doctorate.
"Don't ya worry, Professors," announces Higashita, wielding a large array of needles, "This won't hurt a bit."
It hurts. Like a bitch.
When 'Doctor Higashita' has made sure that both Jotaro and Kakyoin are safe from any infections or diseases, Stroheim brings in another uniform: a flat-top blond that reminds him of an ugly Koichi.
"This is the other Private Nijimura. He'll show you to your quarters. You have your first contact with the creatures at oh-nine-hundred hours; be ready in your rooms by oh-eight-hundred."
He looks at his watch. It's seven o'clock in the morning. Goddammit.
"Better get used to those irregular sleep schedules, boys," smirks Stroheim. "The creatures only let us in every eighteen hours. Now… get moving!"
They get moving. They don't really have any choice.
"Papa, I swear, I'll be fine –"
He shakes his head and brushes just one more dust particle off her dress. "I just want to make sure you're ready, that's all."
She turns and smiles, showing a mouthful of colourful braces. "It's gonna be great, Pops!" she enthuses. "I've got all my lines memorised, and –"
"I know, I know," he sighs. "We'll be cheering you on, all right?"
"Yeah!" she grins. "Get ready for your socks to be blown off!"
Private Nijimura – the one with the face scars – comes to pick him up an hour later, as promised. "Mister Professor, sir?"
"Just Professor Kujo is fine."
Nijimura scrunches up his face in confusion, but nods. "Uh… ya gonna bring that big ol' notebook ya got there, Professor Kujo?"
Jotaro looks down at his (almost) new book for field notes. "Is that a problem?"
"'S just, ya can't take stuff in with ya, y'know?" Nijimura shrugs and scratches his left scar contemplatively. "'S not good for… what's that word Josuke uses? 'Dee-con-tam-i-nay-shun'."
"You expect me to go in there without any notebooks, or cameras, or anything?" he frowns.
The officer thinks about this for a while; Jotaro can see the gears turning in his head. "I guess not," he concedes, at last. "But it's gonna get blasted with anti-bacs and shit."
"That's fine." Jotaro closes the notepad securely. "These notebooks are pretty sturdy."
"Right!" Nijimura gives one of his sloppy, half-assed salutes, and grins. "Come on, then! Ya gotta make sure ya take a shit before ya get to the creatures!"
"Dad, how do I ask out a girl?"
He shrugs. "I wouldn't know. Not my area of expertise."
She frowns. "Then… how did you two get together?"
He turns toward her, leaning forward a little in his chair. "At first, we just hung out together a lot. Then we hung out all the time. And then – we decided to hang out together for the rest of our lives."
"Oh!" Her face splits into an awed, beautiful expression. "That's so romantic!"
He laughs and reaches up to adjust his hat. "Sure it is. Anyway, who's the lucky girl?"
"Uh…" She blushes. "Herm."
"Good choice." He nods. "My advice is to get out and say it while you have the chance. Just… go right up to her and ask if she wants to have coffee, or whatever."
She smiles. "Okay. Sounds good, Dad. Thanks."
The decontamination room is small and crowded for its size. Kakyoin is there, of course, and the other Private Nijimura, as well as two women he doesn't recognise – one in uniform, one out of it – and, of course, Stroheim.
"Well, people," barks Stroheim, "what are you waiting for? The officers'll help you put on your suits. We haven't got all day, let's move!"
Okuyasu nudges him, and points to the massive orange monstrosity on the rack beside him. He sighs. "All right then, show me. It can't be harder than a scuba suit."
Kakyoin looks round at him nervously. "I've never done anything like this," he frowns. "How are you so confident?"
Jotaro shrugs. "The world's going to shit, and you're worried about an orange suit?"
"Well, when you put it like that…" Kakyoin sighs and allows the other Private Nijimura – the blond one – to help him with the first of many under-layers. "It's just a little weird, you know. Aliens, and dressing like a fucking astronaut and stuff. You can't make up this shit."
He nods half-heartedly and takes off his lab coat and sweater. They aren't necessary.
"Uhh, Professor Kujo?" Scar-Nijimura taps him on the shoulder. "You gonna take the hat off?"
He takes a look at the orange monstrosity, then at the little white head-covering that lies beside it among all the other protective padding. "I guess I have to, huh?"
Nijimura nods. He takes off the hat.
Eventually, they're all dressed up like fucking orange Lego men, and he has a chance to look back at the others. The lady who wasn't in uniform looks back from her orange costume; the lady in uniform gives a smart salute.
"Ah," mutters Kakyoin, his voice barely audible through the speakers of their headsets. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure, miss –" He reaches out a hand, but tumbles forward slightly; the blond Nijimura catches him and sets him back on his feet.
"Careful, sir, takes a while to get used to these things."
The military woman raises an eyebrow; the woman beside her, surprisingly, giggles.
"Looks like we're all going to be stumbling around, then!" she says. "I'm new too. My name's Anne. Professor Anne Smith, theoretical physicist. What's your name?"
Kakyoin coughs nervously. "Ah, yes, I'm Professor Noriaki Kakyoin, linguist, and that's –"
He gestures towards Jotaro, who raises a hand in greeting. "Professor Jotaro Kujo. Marine biologist."
"Pleasure!" Anne winks. "I'm sure we'll get on like a house on fire."
The lady in military uniform salutes with a frown. "It's an honour, sirs. I'm Captain Lisa-Lisa. I see you two have already met the two Nijimuras."
"Yo!" Scar-Nijimura waves. "You c'n call me Okuyasu!"
Blond Nijimura grunts. "Keicho."
"I hate to ask," says Jotaro, "but why are we three scientists the only ones dressing up here? Seems a bit unnecessary if you ask me."
General Stroheim coughs from his corner of the room; somehow, he's managed to kit himself out in an orange costume on his own. "Hate to break it to you, gentlemen – and lady – but the creatures only allow a certain number of humans in at one time. So you won't be getting a guard detail, only me and Colonel Speedwagon, who's waiting outside. These officers are just here to help with the putting on and off, so to speak."
He sighs. Well, at least he won't have to deal with Keicho's dull-eyed stare for too long every eighteen hours.
The door slams, and suddenly he hears a little sniffle. She's there, behind him, peeking in from behind the other door, tears running down her face, and he goes from angry to heartbroken in an instant.
"…How long have you been there?"
Another sniffle, and she chokes back a little sob. "You were shouting."
He crouches down and hols his hands out to her, beckoning her into his arms. "It happens sometimes. It's not the end of the world, we still love each other."
She creeps forwards, then all at once flings herself into his chest. Her little hiccupping sobs fill the room. "You were f-f-fighting…"
"Shh, it's all right. Grown-ups fight sometimes, okay? That doesn't mean we hate each other. It doesn't mean we hate you, either. It's nothing to do with you, all right?"
"Uh-huh." She wipes her nose. "Is it g-gonna be okay, Papa?"
"It's going to be fine." He strokes her hair gently and kisses her on the cheek. "We just have to move on and say sorry to each other when we're done."
She clutches at his shoulder and nods. "O-okay."
"Do you want to come with me and help me say sorry?"
She nods.
"Come on, then." He picks her up and carries her in the direction that the other person stormed off to, holding her tight and close to his chest. "Let's go say sorry."