Chapter 113

Four people and one... thing trudged away from the Mayor’s Office, heading back toward the pier. Each was likely chewing on the intel they’d just squeezed out of the Station Master—the self-proclaimed leader of the local Resistance. The silence was thick enough to trip over as they marched onward, lost in thought.

"You lot look like you’ve just been told Christmas is canceled," Phantom said, his voice slicing through the city’s industrial hum and the rhythm of their boots. "Is the pressure getting to you?"

"Well, yeah, a bit," Taro admitted, breaking his stride. "I was all geared up for a Total War, making big plans, probably getting way too ahead of myself. Now it feels like I’ve gotta scrap the whole lot. I mean, we can’t exactly go around nuking civilian stations. That’s just... not happening."

Is my brain going soft? Taro wondered, his thoughts drifting toward the ethics of mass destruction. Before he could spiral too deep into self-doubt, Marl stepped in to rescue him.

"If the entire population of the Enzio Star System isn’t actually the enemy, I’d really rather not spend my weekends fighting them," Marl said, her mouth twisting into a worried little frown. "I get the whole 'Total War' concept, but treating everyone like a target just because they live under the wrong flag feels wrong. I mean, obviously, within reason."

Taro nodded fervently. He was on exactly the same page. He started recalibrating his mental GPS, trying to find a new destination for this mess.

"Winning a war is just about hitting strategic goals, right?" Taro muttered to himself, his internal monologue leaking out. "Sure, we’ll kick teeth in if we have to, but victory doesn't always have to look like a head-on collision."

He paced faster, the gears in his head spinning at a dangerous velocity.

"Goal number one: Katsushika survives. By extension, EAP survives. That doesn't necessarily mean every enemy ship has to explode. Mutual destruction is a total fail—we’re not in this for a grudge match. Hell, technically, even losing is fine as long as we survive. Though, realistically, that's a pipe dream."

Taro thought back to his days dealing with the Dingo. He’d never believed peace could thrive under a bootheel, but honestly? He was starting to think Enzio’s brand of politics was even nastier than the White Dingo’s. The Dingo were thugs, sure—dictatorial, high-handed, and prone to killing people because they woke up on the wrong side of the bed—but at least they treated their territory like an actual asset to be developed. They were tyrants, but they weren't just looting the place.

Even the Non-Aggression treaty between Rising Sun and the White Dingo was proof of that. Sure, it forced trade within Dingo space, and some of those Credits effectively trickled back to the top, but it wasn’t a direct bribe to the boss. It was an economic stimulus package with a side of extortion.

"Well, it’s a sticky situation," Phantom said, his tone sounding suspiciously like he was enjoying himself. "So, do we have to 'do something' about Enzio, then?"

Taro scowled at Phantom’s amusement, but his brain didn't stop whirring.

"That’s the million-credit question. How do we 'do something'?" Taro asked. "We either dismantle the Alliance entirely or make the cost of invading EAP so high they just give up. Even if EAP gets swallowed, if the Inter-Imperial Passage from Katsushika to the Alpha Star System stays open, is that a win?"

He kept digging, looking for a third option hidden under the floorboards.

"Oh! Wait. What if we get the Empire to officially recognize Enzio as a legitimate nation? The odds are basically zero, but if they got what they wanted, they might stop obsessing over EAP and Alpha."

"A lovely thought," Phantom replied, sounding like a professor patting a student on the head for a particularly stupid answer. "But unfortunately, it’s impossible."

"If the Empire allowed that, Independence Movements would pop up across the galaxy like weeds. Well, they’re probably already popping up, but that would be like throwing high-octane fuel on the fire. The Empire is lazy, yes, but the moment you threaten their bottom line, the sleeping giant wakes up—and it usually wakes up cranky."

Phantom’s indifferent gaze made Taro let out a frustrated "Gunuuu!" as he plunged back into his sea of thoughts.

"Then... no, that won't work. EAP... no. Enzio... if there’s a Resistance, we could hit them from the inside... but they don't even have armed ships..."

Taro kept mumbling, his focus so intense he nearly tripped over his own feet several times. Each time he wobbled, Marl was there to catch his arm and keep him upright.

"............Oh."

They were just coming into view of the pier where the Camouflaged Work Ship was docked when Taro stopped dead, staring at nothing. Everyone else stopped too, all eyes on him.

"That’s it... That’s freaking it!! We don't need to dismantle them, and we don't need some epic final showdown!" Taro shouted, his voice echoing off the pier.

Marl blinked. "Okay, so what do we do?"

Taro pointed a dramatic finger at her. "We just have to make the Alliance so worthless that nobody cares if it exists or not!"

Travel restrictions—the standard "lockdown" procedure for any emergency. Yet, during the recent chaos, those restrictions hadn't been applied for "some reason." The reports about bomb threats and suspicious intruders should have hit the Station Master’s desk instantly, but the Mayor had been curiously slow to act. Since he was the "owner" of the star system rather than an elected official, he wasn't going to get fired, but his reputation had definitely taken a massive hit.

"Well, it made for a great smoke screen for our escape, but... seriously, if the Mayor hadn't been there to ignore the alarms, how were we supposed to get out?"

Taro asked the question while staring out at the receding station from the common room of the Plum II. The ship was currently wrapped in Pseudo-Stealth via Optical Jamming, making them invisible to the naked eye. The Control Tower’s logs would eventually show a Work Ship vanishing into thin air, but that was a "future them" problem.

"I had plenty of plans," Phantom said with a shrug. "Stealing a patrol ship, frying the control systems... and with that Star System Map you made, we only needed to get a few miles away before we were essentially ghosts. The safest bet would have been to hide inside a merchant ship’s cargo hold. This ship can fold into a neat little box with the press of a button, you know."

Phantom gave a small, "too bad I didn't get to use it" laugh. Taro sighed in admiration.

"Remind me to never get on your bad side. I’m counting on you, man."

"Hey, Teiro," Marl interrupted, leaning over the conference table with her cheeks puffed out. "Are you going to let us in on the secret or what?"

"Right, okay," Taro said, holding up a single finger. Alan, Phantom, Sakura, and Marl all leaned in. Silence filled the room.

"Point one: The vast majority of the people involved here are general corporations. And point two: They aren't actually fans of Enzio."

The intel they’d gathered all pointed to the same thing: the corporations followed Enzio because they felt they had no choice. It was a classic "it is what it is" situation.

"Enzio has three collars on these companies: food, resources, and the network. The big three lifelines. They hold the leash, so they get to bark the orders. So, logically... if we fix those three things, the corporations have zero reason to keep listening to Enzio, right?"

"Impossible," Sakura said flatly.

"I see where you're going," she continued. "Without corporate support, EAP would definitely win. But realistically, how do you solve those three problems? You're talking about a population of hundreds of millions."

"I’m with her," Alan added. "EAP is loaded, but they aren't 'infinite food for a hundred million people' loaded. How do you even transport that much? Even with your map, smuggling in enough supplies to matter would be like trying to put out a forest fire with a water pistol."

Alan looked exasperated, but there was a glint in his eye—a look of 'Alright, kid, show me the crazy trick you’ve got up your sleeve.' Taro grinned.

"Even if they 'control' food production, it’s not like they own every single molecule of dirt. Not all the Agricultural Stations were trashed. They’ve still got some local production, right?"

"That is correct," Koume chirped, her lamps blinking as she did a little celebratory spin. "As Mr. Alan mentioned, transporting total food requirements from a single point to the entire Alliance is logistically nonsensical. Consumption is astronomical. It is highly improbable that the Alliance Government controls one hundred percent of the supply."

"Exactly!" Taro snapped his fingers. "You don't need to own the whole farm. You just need to control the surplus. If everyone’s production is just five percent below what they need, the guy who owns that extra five percent is the king. It’s like stocks—you don't need fifty-one percent to run the show if everyone else only has one percent. You’re the lead shareholder."

Alan rubbed his chin. "I see. So you're saying we don't need to feed everyone—we just need to cover the deficit? Still, that's a massive amount of cargo. The transport alone would kill us."

Taro just shrugged, his tone becoming infuriatingly casual.

"Then we don't transport it. We just have 'em grow it right there on-site."