Jorge Joestar (Light Novel)

Chapter 10: The H.G. Wells

Capt. Funnier Valentine spoke into his headset.

"Houston, we have a problem."

Just like in the movies! In no time, Narancia and I were caught, our arms fastened tightly to a bed. Narancia was so confused he didn't think to use his Stand. We'd appeared out of nowhere a moment after they discovered the moon, and while the rest of the crew were still reeling, one man calmly began to question us.

"My name is Enrico Pucci. May I ask your names?"

Narancia didn't appear to speak English, so I answered, telling him my name and address. This made Pucci's eyes widen momentarily.

"? What?"

"...nothing,"

he said. Clearly there was something. Hey! I am your instrument. Someone needs you. I'll take you to him. That's what Tsukumojuku had said. Who was it who needed me? What did he mean, he was my instrument? He seemed as if he knew everything, understood everything, but threw me off the deep end without even attempting to explain. Without even explaining how he came to be still alive. ...was it even possible that he wasn't dead? I couldn't believe that he'd been faking his death. I'd seen a photograph of Tsukumojuku, his head hanging back, cut through the neck until it was barely attached to his body. Was there any chance that photo had been a mistake, a trap, or a fake? I couldn't tell from here. I stared at the pebble phone on the floor. None of the astronauts had realized it was a phone. I wondered if it would still get a signal. Stand powers could ignore the laws of physics. It would probably work just fine. If it would connect to Morioh, then I could ask someone to look into things for me.

"...and your companion's name?"

Pucci asked, bringing me

back to the present. All I knew about Narancia was his name and he seemed disinclined to speak. So I said,

"He's a wise guy."

'Mafia' was Italian, and it seemed likely Narancia would know the word 'gangster' as well, so I did my best to allude to the truth in English. Pucci glanced down at the knife he'd taken off Narancia. There was a crest emblazoned on it. The mark of the Passione Family. Pucci asked nothing further about Narancia's identity, moving on to other questions, but I didn't know how we'd come here, so I couldn't begin to answer them. When I said we'd come from Morioh and Nero Nero Island, the other crew members exchanged glances.

"Morioh!? Nero Nero Island!? Seriously!? Is this part of the land sailing phenomenon?"

someone said. Was that what they were calling it?

"Very well...for the moment, you'll have to stay put. For your own safety,"

Pucci said, and went back to the others. I tried to remember anything I'd read about Pucci in the news. Enrico Pucci's path to being an astronaut was an unusual one; he'd started out in Seminary School, and had served as the priest at a prison before making an dramatic career change that had been the talk of the country at the time. When he told a reporter he was searching for a way to get to Heaven, it caused quite a stir.

"Hey, dickhead! What the fuck is going? What did your Stand do to us?"

Narancia snarled, kicking my leg repeatedly. I ignored him. The astronauts on this spaceship were all scientists, and they'd begun talking to Houston about our sudden appearance, the discovery of the third moon, and any connection there might be to the two mysteriously moving land masses back on Earth. I kept one ear on their conversation, stared at the view out the window, and thought. From the window I could see the third moon, hidden on the