Chapter 144

I’m incredibly sorry that the updates have become so irregular. I’m hoping to return to a normal schedule once my day job settles down! m( )m

[AIMING CORRECTION: MANUAL]

[BISHOP REDIRECT: ON DEMAND]

[RAILGUN TURRET: SALVO]

Lumps of steel screamed into the void, buried deep into other lumps of steel. The surrounding space flickered with the strobe-light violence of crossing beam fire, and every so often, a blinding flash would illuminate a graveyard of shattered hulls.

"Second Fleet, haul ass and evacuate! There is absolutely zero reason to play martyr today!"

Taro rapidly deployed the BISHOP Function Group for fleet command, barking retreat orders to the ships holding the front line. He wasn't just telling them to run for their lives; he coordinated a tactical withdrawal, forcing units to cover each other in an orderly, if frantic, retreat.

"Mr. Teiro, new enemy reinforcements confirmed. That brings the total count to 1,214 units."

Taro flicked his gaze toward the Tactical Screen, where a fresh swarm of light points was screaming in from the distance.

Another failure... dammit! Just how many of these things are there?! It’s a never-ending swarm!

Frustration boiled over, and Taro slammed his fist onto the armrest of his command seat. He bit his lip in silence for a long moment before finally broadcasting the order to the entire fleet: "Full retreat. Get us out of here."

---

"Rare to see you like this, General. That’s some seriously heavy stuff you’re knocking back."

"As if I could handle this sober... That was the third time, Alan. The third!"

They were at a bar in Wyoming’s Commercial District, a favorite haunt for Rising Sun employees. It was a spot for the relatively well-to-do, and Taro was currently nursing a glass of Fireball 925, sipping the liquid fire with a miserable expression.

"On the bright side, we didn't take any major losses. And if you think about the carnage those things would’ve caused if they wandered off, well, you could call it a productive skirmish, right?"

"I guess. If I squint hard enough, maybe I can pretend it wasn't a total disaster..."

Taro’s grand plan to clear out the WIND units nesting on the path to Planet Nuke had gone up in smoke three times now. The system housing Nuke was shielded by a natural corridor of fluctuating Drive Particle density. Unless they punched through that bottleneck, they couldn't even get close enough to wave at the planet.

"Besides, the bounties for WIND kills are nothing to sneeze at. With the numbers you’ve been bagging, the company’s coffers should be overflowing."

"Yeah about that... Dean says it’s probably a temporary gold rush. There are so many of them now that the Empire is planning to scale the rewards based on distance from the capital. WIND units out here in the Frontier are going to be worth pocket change soon."

"That’s just... insulting."

The two of them downed their drinks in sync and let out a simultaneous, heavy-duty sigh.

"The costs are already a nightmare. If every hunter in the galaxy flocks to the Frontier, the central government will lose their minds," Alan mused. "Even the stuff that seems 'unavoidable' when you're in the capital feels like a personal slap in the face once you're out here in the boonies. Their selfishness is breathtaking."

"Tell me about it. Honestly, I’m starting to see why people want to declare independence."

"Whoa, easy there. Don’t go saying things like that out loud. I’d really rather not have the center breathing down our necks."

Alan lowered his voice, arching a worried eyebrow. Taro gave a blunt "I know, I know," before sliding his empty glass across the table and pinging BISHOP to order another round.

"So, Teiro, when’s the new ship supposed to be ready? You’ve already broken ground on it, haven't you?"

Alan caught his own fresh drink from the AI waiter as he spoke.

"It’s a total custom job, so they’re saying another month or so. I’ve currently got one of Takasaki’s entire factories booked out."

"You didn't go with a local firm?"

"I’m sourcing parts and modules locally, but I wanted the core design and the hull structure handled by people I trust. They took care of me during the war, so consider it a bit of a kickback—I mean, a 'thank you' for their service."

"Fair enough... And how are the girls? Rin and Sakura still the same?"

"Oh, yeah. Nothing’s changed there. Sakura is still... well, Sakura. She’s as pushy as ever. And Rin looked like she was going to faint when she heard about our expansion into the Empire. Thinking about it, every time I see Rin, the galaxy is on fire. Dingo, Enzio, the Empire... it’s a pattern."

"Ahahaha! You’re right. People are going to start calling you the Reaper soon."

"Hey, I’m the one putting the fires out! Give me a break."

They shared a laugh and lapsed into a companionable silence, letting the jazz-like music of the bar wash over them. After a while, Taro spoke up, his eyes fixed on the tabletop. "Hey, Alan."

"Yeah?"

"To be honest, I don’t really know what the right move is here. But I don’t think you’re my enemy. Can we just... keep things the way they are?"

Taro was thinking back to his encounter with the old man who started the Enzio War—specifically, the things Alan had blurted out. It was pretty clear Alan still had some sort of back-channel connection to the military.

Alan paused with his glass halfway to his lips, then slowly set it back down.

"As a manager, I have to tell you that’s a terrible idea. Leaving a suspicious element alone is a recipe for disaster."

"Spoken like a true manager... So, whose perspective is that?"

"Your subordinate’s. Specifically, your Head of Information."

"And what about your personal perspective?"

"...Sorry, Teiro. But yeah. If you can keep things as they are, it would be a huge help."

Alan looked down, his face a mask of conflict. Taro caught a glimpse of that pained expression and made his choice. He’d bet on Alan.

"Right, let's do that then. If the top two of the All-Galaxy Virgin Union split up, the only winners would be the normies."

Taro let out a mischievous nihihi and raised his glass. But Alan didn't join in the teasing. His expression remained dead serious.

"Listen, General. I don't know if you'll believe me, but no matter what happens, I will always prioritize this company. If it ever gets to the point where you can't stand the sight of me, you have my permission to cut me loose."

Alan drained his fresh drink in a single, desperate gulp.

"But Teiro... if you’re willing to wait for me, I promise I’ll tell you everything one day. I’m sorry, but that’s all I can give you for now."

With that, Alan stood up, gave a stiff bow, and walked out. Taro sat alone, staring at the amber liquid in his glass, thinking of another man who had said something very similar.

Phantom said the same thing. My guys sure love their secrets... but then again, I guess I’m no different to them.

He felt a pang of self-deprecation. A guy from an ancient world, playing CEO in space. He tried to mimic Alan by slamming his drink in one go. He ended up coughing his lungs out, but strangely, he felt a little better.

---

"I suppose I should say 'as expected of the Doctor.' It was a steep price to pay, but it seems it was worth every credit."

They were in the massive office of the Rising Sun’s Roma branch. In a partitioned corner, Phantom sat across from Taro, leafing through the research data sent over by Dr. Aljimov.

"Apparently, he took a Stealth Ship out and got into some serious scrap. I like an active researcher, but a combat-ready Doctor is a bit much even for me," Taro joked, skim-reading his own copy of the report.

"Estimated WIND count is about 2,000 units. They’re using some kind of automated production to replenish their ranks—whenever we scrap a few, they’re back to full strength in days. Their base is an Asteroid Belt deep in the Ancient Area... which means they have an infinite supply of raw materials. We have to wipe them out in one go or not at all."

Phantom looked grim. "Perhaps."

"Perhaps?"

"I don't know the scale of their factory, but it’s clearly massive. We should ask ourselves why there are only 2,000. Is there a bottleneck?"

"A bottleneck?"

"If they have infinite materials, why stop at 2,000? Why not 20,000? Or 200,000? The fact that they stay at a fixed number suggests a limiting factor."

"I see... Do those scrap heaps care about maintenance costs?"

"Probably not in the economic sense. Maybe a rare resource? Or a limit to their command-and-control capacity? It’s even possible their AI is just hard-coded with that limit... though that might be wishful thinking."

"Well, it's not like we can just go in and ask. We need a way to kill 2,000 of them in one sitting. I’ve got nothing."

"It would be much simpler if the Imperial Military got off their collective asses. Not that they will."

"Definitely not. They’re busy with the network collapse, and this is way out in the sticks."

Taro sighed, thinking of the Galactic Imperial Navy. Between the corruption and the internal power struggles, they were about as reliable as a chocolate radiator.

"So, what’s the move? To maintain a decent Kill Rate against those numbers, we’d need a fleet of nearly 500 ships. Even if we liquidated everything, we could only squeeze out 200 at most," Phantom said, stroking his chin.

"I want to avoid a massive fleet expansion anyway. The EAP would freak out, and it would kill the economic momentum we’ve finally built up. Same goes for hiring mercs. It’s too messy."

"I see... Then we’re at a total impasse. What now? Surely you aren't suggesting we give up?"

"Ihihi! Not a chance."

Taro gave a sly grin. "Listen to this... what if we tried this?"

Taro laid out his plan. Phantom listened with growing intrigue, but eventually shook his head.

"It would be a low-quality rabble of a fleet. And that 500-ship estimate was the minimum for a suicide charge. Without being able to explain the significance of Earth to them, you can't justify that kind of sacrifice. It’s a creative idea, but it needs one more 'oomph' to work."

"Ugh," Taro groaned. "I wish we had some kind of secret weapon. You know, like a Colony Laser or a Black Hole Bomb... something with a bit of 'oomph'..."

Suddenly, a commotion erupted outside the office. Taro craned his neck, trying to see over the partitions. Shouts that sounded suspiciously like screams echoed through the hall, followed by a frantic pounding on their door.

"President! Excuse me! We just received an emergency transmission! You have to see this!"

An employee burst in and shoved a data chip toward Taro. Seeing the man’s panicked state, Taro snatched the chip and pressed it against his forehead. Their current sector was disconnected from BISHOP for security, meaning all direct comms had to be hand-delivered.

"......Oh no."

Taro’s face went pale as the data flooded his mind. He looked at Phantom, his eyes vacant with shock.

"Wyoming is under attack... a massive WIND fleet... We have to go... Marl and the others are there..."

Taro began to mutter like a man in a trance. Worst-case scenarios flashed before his eyes like a macabre slideshow, and his limbs felt like lead.