Previously on this heartwarming family comedy, every single character was a miserable, weeping sack of resentment and melodrama. Well, except KOS-MOS. She seems fine. Ironically, the only remotely uplifting moment came after MOMO’s brain went to DEFCON 1 and Dr. Mizrahi remembered, too late, how to be a good mother. Really glad I volunteered to recap This Is Us, in Space. It’s been so breezy and entertaining!

We pick up with Shion leaving her office at First Division over the complaints of Corey and her other employees that she’s going to get herself in trouble again. As she reaches the elevator, Corey catches up with her. “I went ahead and ordered the equipment from Third Division,” he tells her. “They asked what we intended to do with it, so I explained it to them.” Shion is, of course, angry that he did something so reckless as be honest with their colleagues about work that is only clandestine because Shion wants to get the credit for doing it. But Corey assures her that by the time Third Division swoops in to steal her kill, “our work should be complete.” Why is Corey taking it as a given that the equipment they need will arrive before the Third Division personnel do? And why am I worried about this not making sense, when this is basically the last time anyone will care about this dangling end of a plot thread? The larger point here is that Corey said “our work,” because he’s coming too. To her credit, Shion just accepts his help and spares Corey the need to say she doesn’t own the exclusive rights to caring about their friends.

Patricia must be new here.

Out in the Second Miltia sunlight and terrible town music, Shion says, “I have to hurry! I’ll be right there, MOMO!” Am I going to have Shion dawdle with Godawful Sidequest Campaign tasks just to make her look like an uncaring liar? You bet your ass I am. Shion’s first stop is Jin’s house, where she kicks apart a section of his bamboo fence to uncover a Segment Address door and destroys every single one of his dozen bonsai in order to pilfer a single bio sphere. Shion, I’m going to try and be even-handed and say it’s cool if you’re mad at your brother, but THAT WAS YEARS OF WORK. All that careful pruning! Gone! For a fucking tent! Girl.

I’m sure to Shion’s great relief, she does not find him inside, only an assistant of his in the back of the bookshelves. The teenage boy, weirdly named Jun like he’s Jin’s clone son, confesses to Shion, “I’m in hot water now! I done messed up the Master’s bookshelves. I wanna put them back proper, but I don’t know how they go together! Could you do it for me?” Is this some kind of hillbilly outreach project of Jin’s? Where did he even find this kid who probably still says “book learnin”? Did he put another person on the payroll just to annoy Shion? When Shion reluctantly says she will help, probably sighing about dusty relics and the deadbeats who love them, the GS Campaign musical sting queues up, just so we’re crystal clear this is a mini-game. “Lemme tell you about the bookshelves!” Jun says. “These bookshelves got both vertical and horizontal patterns! Use the left analog stick or the directional buttons to move the bookshelves and line up the vertical and horizontal patterns!” So, not only is this a mini-game (that Jun seems to have more of a handle on than he indicated earlier), but it’s my absolute favorite type in the whole wide world, a motherfucking slider puzzle.

This bookshelf of Jin’s is divided into nine sections, labeled 1 through 3 horizontally and color-coded vertically. But somehow they’ve all been moved out of order! Why a bookshelf would be set up to have discrete sections of shelf slide around like this is beyond me, but I am not about to have Shion tell Jin how to set up his bookstore. Anyway, this sounds simple, and in fact is the simplest a slider puzzle could possibly be, but I am such a hopeless idiot when it comes to these things. I start out with a plan to work one corner of the puzzle at a time, which has worked for me before (on this very puzzle on a previous playthrough, no less), but I quickly become frustrated, like an infant trying to open an aspirin bottle. After three tries at this, I decide Shion’s wasted enough time making both of us look stupid. And now I hate Jin’s books as much as she does. Great.

That feeling when you worry you might have an undiagnosed learning disability

Unfucking Jin’s Dewey Decimal system is somehow the only sidequest open to me at the moment, so that leaves MOMO and her comparatively mild problems. As soon as Shion enters the U.M.N. Control Center, I’m whisked away from her and into a black screen where an angry male voice is shouting, “What are you talking about?” This is Xenosaga, so this could be directed at literally any character. He clarifies, “What reason could there possibly be for the Immigrant Fleet to deploy ships to Second Miltia?” Yeah, why would anyone invade or attack Second Miltia? It’s not like a rogue space station almost crashed into the planet and wiped out its population two days ago. A second voice calls for withholding judgment until hearing what “they” have to say, presumably the Immigrant Fleet themselves.

The veil of darkness finally lifts, revealing the unchanged Federation Parliament chamber. On cue, Pope Exposition pops into the video conference, and for his super illuminating account, we jump through the monitor to his Tree of Life altar room. “Once, in this region of space, there existed the great land of Miltia,” he opens. Dude, it was 14 years ago. They remember! It’s been longer than that since 9/11! He at least acknowledges that they should all remember that when Miltia was deleted or whatever, “that land, along with mankind’s greatest treasure, was sealed away like a cursed past.” His simile game is lacking. How exactly is something sealed like a cursed past? Like, it’s on LiveJournal, but friends-locked?

As for the other tidbit he just dropped: “That greatest of treasures originally belonged to all of mankind, and we of the Immigrant Fleet had been its caretakers from time immemorial.” Oh, I thought he might actually tell us what it is. I must also be new around here. Thank God one of the senators is here to make the obvious explicit: “Now wait just a minute. All [Golden Penis Plate] activity currently falls under the jurisdiction of the Federation. You aren’t trying to monopolize that great treasure for yourselves, now, are you?” I really hope everybody is sterilizing the GPP before letting the next person use it. Safety and hygiene are important. Pope Exposition replies, “All I am saying is, there are those who would claim it as their own.” Yeah, SOME OTHER jerks are hogging it! When it was custom-molded for us! A senator asks if he’s accusing the Miltian government, and by extension the Kukai Foundation, of dildo-hoarding. This is clearly a rhetorical question, but the Pope answers anyway, “They have clearly used the events of fourteen years ago to justify their mobilization.” Sure. But here comes the swerve: “To demonstrate that, they have summoned the great evil, Proto Merkabah, in an attempt to reignite the flames of conflict across the galaxy. They intend to take advantage of the chaos of war to use the relic in Old Miltia for their own self-interests.” Proto Merkabah was a false flag! The Kukai Foundation is coming for your guns penises great treasures of mankind! WAKE UP, SHEEPLE!

I was just about to complain about U-GEE, or the Immigrant Fleet, or whoever the fuck these people are really, already trying this on the Kukai Foundation, when they framed them for blowing up the Hoglinde. But the beauty of this, I realize now, is that they’ve already gone there. If 2016 has taught me anything, it’s that accusations and conspiracy theories pile up even when, and sometimes especially if, they’re completely discredited. Why, the Kukai Foundation must be crooked! Why else would they be accused of treason twice without any credible evidence?! Follow the money!

“In response to these usurpers, the Miltian government,” Pope Exposition goes on, feebly shaking his old man fist, “we propose to reclaim our long-standing traditional rights to be the caretakers of the relic.” It’s not like anybody’s doing that great a job taking care of it now, given that it’s beyond everyone’s reach in a black hole. A senator tries to tell the Pope that the Benghazi Proto Merkabah Investigation Committee cleared Second Miltia of any suspicion thanks to the contents of KOS-MOS’s box. But Pope Exposition is ready for that. “Yes,” he says. “But there are also rumors that Vector is supporting the Miltian government. I wonder just how trustworthy Vector’s data really is.” I feel like I’m transcribing a Facebook post. All that’s missing is a rant about the importance of the Pledge of Allegiance. Someone asks what Mace Windu has to say about all this, and everyone suddenly realizes he’s not even here to defend himself from these accusations. But what could he possibly be doing right now that’s more important than listening to Grandpa call him an usurping terrorist? WHERE ARE THE DELETED EMAILS, MACE?!

A black screen later, we see exactly what he’s up to, and it’s “boning Jin.” Or talking to him at his house, if you’re some kind of prescriptivist. “It’s been a long time, Lieutenant General,” Jin says, not turning around. (Because they’re fucking, remember!) “Or do you prefer Representative [Windu], of the Second Miltian Parliament?” We’re supposed to take from this that Mace and Jin have not kept in touch, despite Jin living across town and having a giant sign on the city map pointing to his bedroom. But I’m taking it as, “What do you want me to call you, daddy?” Shut up. Mace prefers the former, and calls Jin “Captain” to go along with it. Ooh, are they going to get out their old uniforms? Nice.

I can’t even enjoy a Jin/Mace blowjob screencap without those fucking bookshelves ruining my good time.

Jin says he’s got a “fairly good idea” why Mace is here, but doesn’t actually let us in on what that is, making Mace come out with it. (Putting aside that we know why. Wink.) Mace, of course, wants Jin to re-enlist. “The data you entrusted to Canaan…I want to find out the truth it holds,” Mace says. How is Jin supposed to help with that? He’s not a hacker, and Mace and Canaan have already been working on this shit for over a decade. But Jin replies, “That evidence was obtained illegally. It won’t stand up in court.” Just a guess, but if the game that’s actually about the legal system can’t figure out evidence law, I don’t think this game has much of a chance of doing better. But in that same spirit, Mace doesn’t care about the law, only THE TRUTH. “If I can just find out who our real enemy is,” he says, “that’ll be more than enough.” That’s probably for the best–knowing how bananas this story already was before this game even started, let alone how much more bananas it’s going to get by the series’ end, makes the idea of any of its “criminals” being tried in court tremendously funny. And now I’ve pictured Shion as April May, thrusting her rack at the peanut gallery. Why do I do this to myself?

Much better.

Mace begs Jin in his huskiest voice to REACH OUT FOR THE TRUTH with him, but Jin says he’s “but a lowly used bookseller” now. Don’t let Shion neg your career, man. You do you. “I’m not sure I’m capable of meeting your expectations,” Jin admits. Mace probably is a complete size queen, but Mace has faith Jin will perform fine, and hands him half of a gray Dualshock, or some kind of Boomstick device. “The truth will surely be of great benefit to you as well,” Mace says. Jin powers up the device and reads through some scrolling holo-text, fingering his chin. Finally, he mutters, “Lieutenant General, you must realize that in order to unravel the data that I passed to Canaan, we have to go back there.” To Miltia, of course, and Mace is “well aware, and I’m ready.” He has not lifted his skirts yet, somehow. And since nobody is fucking getting naked here, I am forced to confront the fact that Jin apparently knew the entire time that decoding Canaan’s brain would require a trip to Miltia–for reasons!–yet didn’t bother bringing that up with Canaan or the poor lab techs who have spent their entire careers on this task. And apparently Mace knew that too, and fucking commissioned that work! What is wrong with all of these people?

Ugh. I don’t even want them to fuck anymore.

We transition from Jin’s house to the U.M.N. Control Center and its horrible background music. Jailbait is pacing, and Ziggy and CHAOS!!! are standing there staring at MOMO’s coma bubble in the other room, when Shion and Corey enter. “Shion!” Jailbait says. The exclamation point is in the subtitles, but he does not sound that excited. “I thought we were getting someone from the Third Division. This is outside of First Division’s jurisdiction, isn’t it?” And now it occurs to me that Shion is keeping people from this whose actual job it is to work with Realians, so she can hog the glory. Yeah, everyone talks about her like she’s the fucking Realian Whisperer, but her resume doesn’t back it up. “Normally the Third Division would have sent someone, but we were closer,” Shion TOTALLY LIES. “It’s just easier for me to take care of it.” If she can’t tell the truth to the people in this room about the why of it, then who can she be honest with? Corey, I guess, though to her that’s probably like not holding in your farts around your dog.

“Besides,” she bullrushes on, like she’s trying to spackle over her own hubris until we can’t see it anymore, “I’ve already had everything we need transported over. Don’t worry, we’ve got the technical side covered. You can relax.” Ziggy, CHAOS!!!, and Jailbait are all staring at her like she has a booger hanging out. They can relax! Everything is cool and fine because SUPER SHION IS HERE. “Honestly, Chief, you’re so stubborn,” Corey says. “You know, you’re gonna have a hard time with the Third Division later.” I could kiss Corey for blowing up her spot. I won’t, because he’s fictional and also sad and unattractive, but still. CHAOS!!! butts in to say, “Yet, in spite of that, [Corey], you’re still right here helping.” Because she’ll fuck it up on her own and then who suffers, Wangaskhan? MOMO does. Be quiet. Corey says as much, and somehow Shion doesn’t take offense, probably because she’s not listening to him in the first place. “[Jailbait],” she pleads, “we want to save MOMO, too. Or, do you think [Corey] and I aren’t reliable enough?” DING. DING. Of course Jailbait is not going to say that, especially after he watched her dissolve emotionally last night at her brother’s house. So he says, “No, no. Well, I don’t know about [Corey], but I’m glad you’re here, Shion.” Dang. Corey needs to find a new job. And a girlfriend. And self-respect. He’s got a long to-do list. Jailbait cuts off Corey’s protests by saying they’re short on time and should get moving. Yeah, so short on time you could have the rest of this conversation! Child, you are fooling no one.

I let Shion get her DNA all over the save point before proceeding. Of course, Corey gives her an entire spiel about being prepared for this dangerous mission before commencing the dive, so I guess I should have talked to him before leaving the room. “The dive subjects for this operation will be the Chief, [Jailbait], [CHAOS!!!] and Ziggy,” Corey says, as those four stand around MOMO’s reconstituted bubble. “I’ve also arranged for KOS-MOS’ data to be simultaneously transmitted from Second Division into the Encephalon. I’m sure having her around will be reassuring.” Reassuring in the sense that it tips the game’s hand that KOS-MOS is not going anywhere. Shion’s bosom is, like, heaving as she says, “That’s good thinking, [Corey].” Yeah, she sounds almost surprised by the words coming out of her mouth, but this is still an unfettered compliment. One he receives because he makes sure his crush has access to her girlfriend. But still. Take that win!

Corey goes on that their dive target is “MOMO Mizrahi’s subconscious domain, which is modeled after Sakura Mizrahi’s memories.” I think this is the first time anyone has given MOMO a last name, possibly because Dr. Yuri just un-disowned her in the last few hours. Not having any idea if this will come up, Corey also explains, “Like the dive into KOS-MOS’ Encephalon, there is a possibility of resonant memory playbacks with those who’ve closely shared time and space with her.” This is odd way to remember it, because if I recall, almost nothing in that dive was out of KOS-MOS’s own memories, but rather Shion’s memories of Old Miltia that conveniently served as a tableau for Jailbait’s as well. KOS-MOS didn’t even exist yet in those flashbacks! Despite this, Jailbait says, “This time, that’d be me.” It was last time, too! Guys, I remember this stuff, and it was years, not days, ago for me.

But this is just so Jailbait can set the scene for what they’re all about to experience. Ziggy mentions Sakura’s “central nervous system disorder,” giving Jailbait a jumping-off point. “The going theory was that Sakura’s symptoms were somehow connected to unusual wave pulses within the U.M.N.,” he explains, as the camera pulls in tight on MOMO’s eyes-open, dead face. “She was being attended to at the Yuriev Institute, where her treatment was also a part of the U.R.T.V.s’ U.M.N. link training.” That’s way too many acronym letters in a row. Shion demonstrates how closely she’s been paying attention: “Sakura, the girl MOMO was modeled after?” Jesus Christ.

‘How long you got?’

Ziggy, meanwhile, actually puts some prior knowledge to work and asks Jailbait what the hell U-DO even is and how Jailbait and his brothers were supposed to deal with it. Great question! “U-DO is the Unus-Mundus Drive Operation System,” Jailbait explains. That acronym is a lie by omission, but I guess “UMNNNNNNNNNNNNN-DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOS” wouldn’t be as fun to say. “From the name, it might sound like some U.M.N. control A.I., but that thing was not created by human hands.” Shion, who knows nothing about anything and less than nothing about this thing, agrees by repetition as usual, “Yes. That thing…that’s no A.I. Nothing that simple could have created a space-time anomaly.” If I can impose on you readers, please put a mental pin in this single statement of Shion’s, because I’m going to have a punchline for it in several years, and it might end up being the most gratifying moment of my life. But not now. It’s not time.

Anyway, Jailbait agrees. “They just picked the name because it sounded good. At first, they tried to make us believe it, too,” he says. What? That the name sounded good? “They said it was an artificial consciousness within the U.M.N. that was carrying some kind of dangerous waves. But that was a total lie. Our father, Dmitri Yuriev, knew about it from the start.” There’s a lot to absorb here already–Jailbait has a daddy, and therefore (even more) daddy issues!–but we’re not done. Saying his father’s name brings to Jailbait’s mind an event we’ve witnessed vestigially several times: the failed U.R.T.V. mission 14 years ago on Old Miltia.