Episode 184

It was a sea of humanity—or at least, things that looked like humans but acted like sharks. People, people, and more people packed the gargantuan hall. Under the light of a chandelier large enough to crush a small moon, the glitterati milled about, clutching drinks and hors d’oeuvres while engaging in the high-stakes sport of competitive small talk.

Of course, among this crowd of over a thousand, you could probably count the number of people actually enjoying themselves on one hand. These were the power players of the EAP Alliance. For them, a party wasn’t a social event; it was a battlefield with better catering.

"Perish the thought! Compared to the meteoric rise of Little Tokyo, our little operation is still in its infancy. Mr. Rin’s heroics in the last war are the very foundation of our growth, after all."

"Oh, please, I’m still a novice. Besides, we only survived because of the support from luminaries like yourself, Mr. Chan."

Rin mirrored the man’s plastered-on grin with a masterpiece of insincerity. Two can play at this game, old man.

This flavorless back-and-forth had been on a loop for two solid hours. Rin was beyond fed up. Spotting a familiar face in the swarm of suits, he offered a curt "Pardon me" and escaped the man’s orbit.

"Hey there, Sakura-san. Having the time of your life?"

Rin dodged a few more social climbers trying to snag his attention and pulled up next to Sakura, who was decked out in a formal gown.

"Hmm? Oh! If it isn't young Rin! Of course I am! This is great!"

She beamed at him with a smile so genuinely honest it made Rin—despite his own youth—feel like the cynical one. His heart did a little somersault, but he stomped the feeling down immediately. Nope. Bad Rin. She’s engaged to Teiro. Even if it was a self-proclaimed engagement to the man Rin respected most, he wasn’t about to cross that line.

"Glad one of us is. Can we talk? I’m exhausted," Rin muttered, casting a wary side-eye at the surrounding vultures. Sakura followed his gaze and gave a knowing nod.

"I don’t envy you. Being a figurehead like me is way easier. People mostly talk nonsense, so I just cycle through two responses: 'Oh, is that so?' and 'I see, I’ll look into that later.' Works every time."

"Haha, sounds about the same as my routine. But calling yourself an 'ornament' is a bit outdated, isn't it? I heard the rumors. You’re about to be named the Representative Director of a new subsidiary."

"Hmph. News travels fast. It’s true, but I also got the boot from the main board and lost my spot as Fleet Commander. No matter how you slice it, it’s a demotion."

"You think so? I heard this new subsidiary is so massive it’s basically splitting the company in half. That’s not a demotion; it’s being handed the keys to the kingdom."

"……Hmm. Can’t hide anything from you, can I? The Little Tokyo Intelligence Department is terrifyingly efficient."

"Well, we spend enough of a budget on it to buy a small planet. But if that’s the play..."

Rin reached into his pocket and clicked the switch on a pocket-sized jammer. The venue already had anti-eavesdropping tech, but Rin preferred his secrets like his coffee: dark and contained.

"...Is Takasaki seriously planning to bail on the EAP? Do they think it's that dangerous here?"

Rin’s eyes sharpened, shedding any hint of "boyishness." Sakura caught his gaze and let out a grunt.

"Yes and no. Takasaki isn't abandoning the EAP—or Little Tokyo, for that matter. But they aren't interested in going down with the ship if things hit the fan."

"Insurance, then?"

"Exactly. It’s a subsidiary in name, but we’re packing up everything from the staff to the hardware. It’s Takasaki 2.0. We aren't losing productivity; we’re just... relocating the heart. We’ll support the EAP head office as long as things are stable."

"I see. And if it all blows up, as long as the Rising Sun subsidiary is standing, Takasaki survives... Honestly, we should probably be cheering you on."

"Oh? I figured you’d call me a dirty traitor." Sakura raised an eyebrow, looking amused.

Rin puffed out his cheeks in annoyance. "Give me some credit! We trust Takasaki, and we like to think the feeling is mutual. We’re all in the same boat here... and frankly, I think the boat is currently on fire. Knowing Takasaki has a lifeboat is actually a relief."

Rin turned his head to look at a group standing a short distance away. They were a cluster of military types in formal dress, laughing loud enough to rattle the windows. They looked like they owned the galaxy and were currently debating which part to eat first. They were, without question, the stars of the party.

"Between the Enzio Campaign and the explosion of WIND units, not to mention the pirate problem, I guess it’s inevitable," Sakura muttered, watching the military-industrial types. "But those guys are getting way too big for their boots. If this keeps up, there’ll be no turning back."

Rin nodded solemnly. "Yeah. The budget is tilting so far toward the military it’s a miracle the economy hasn't tipped over. And then there's the other thing..."

Rin looked back at Sakura, his brow furrowed.

"We’re getting reports that the military has a fleet of unidentified Electronic Warfare Craft. Doesn't this feel like history repeating itself?"

Sakura’s expression darkened. "If it is, we’re headed for a disaster."

"What is this? Why is there nothing?!"

Inside a room filled with the humming towers of Quantum Computer servers, Colonel Dean of the Imperial Military was having a one-man meltdown. He was staring at a terminal linked to Big Mother—the Space Station that acted as the brain of the Galactic Empire’s secret archives. It was supposed to be the ultimate source of truth, official or otherwise.

"How can someone spend fifty years in the Special Weapons Research Institute and produce nothing? You don't stay in a cushy job that long without results!"

Dean was digging into Dan Enfo Coleman, the man Taro’s group had pegged as the ghost behind the Enzio War. He had Grand Marshal Reinhardt’s golden ticket to bypass every security firewall in the system. There was no one in the military higher than a Grand Marshal. If the info existed, he should see it.

"Did someone scrub Big Mother? No, that’s impossible..."

Big Mother was a digital hoarder. It recorded every copy, every view, every tiny little update. It didn't even have a 'Delete' key. Even typos were preserved for eternity. Dean wasn't a tech-wizard, but he knew you couldn't just "edit" the past here.

Yet, for Coleman, the logs only showed a few boring, routine check-ins. No changes. No wipes. It made zero sense.

"Ph.D.s in Bio-engineering, Mechanical Engineering, AI, Electronics, and Pure Science from the Imperial University. Two years later, a doctorate in General Science from the Defense Academy. Research in electronic guns and Biological Weapons. Published a paper on Cybernetics... The guy was a one-man R&D department. A total monster."

Dean scanned the records from ninety years ago. Coleman was the definition of a terrifying genius. Most people struggled to get one doctorate in six years; this guy was collecting them like trading cards. He even had a doctorate in General Science—a feat so rare it was one-in-a-billion territory. In Dean's world, only Coleman and a Dr. Alsimov had ever pulled it off.

"Joins the Weapon Development Department. Then, on the recommendation of General Shayal—a Cornelius Faction guy, now dead—he moves to the Special Weapons Research Institute. Climbs the ladder like a maniac, becomes the Director as a Colonel... and then just stops? Why didn't he make General?"

The guy had no records of lacking ambition; in fact, he’d signed up for every promotion exam he could find.

"No family ties. Distant noble blood... wait. He never joined a faction? He wasn't even invited? He got a job from a Cornelius General and didn't sign his soul over to the faction? There's no way the Cornelius Faction would let that slide."

Dean glared at the screen. The Cornelius Faction prioritized loyalty over everything. For them to ignore a genius like this was beyond suspicious.

"Retires, becomes a special advisor for military-linked corps. Starts WIND research in the Alpha Region Space. Fans the flames of war in Enzio, then turns up dead... Wait, wait, wait. Why was there no Intelligence Department tail on him after he left? Where are the research details? Why is this page blank?!"

Dean dived into the data streams, searching for the missing pieces. He found nothing. No breadcrumbs, no shadows.

And that absence of evidence provided the only answer possible.

"…………The Imperial Guard."

Dean whispered the words and felt his blood turn to ice. He spun around, checking the empty, silent room for ghosts.

"It’s not a hack. The records were never filed... The Imperial Guard is its own world. These records are probably a dummy, a mix of truth and lies to keep people from looking too close. Dammit, this is a nightmare. That walking catastrophe of a boy!"

He knew it wasn't Taro’s fault, but he cursed the kid anyway. Big Mother’s logs would now show that Dean had been sniffing around Coleman. If the Imperial Guard noticed, his life was going to get very complicated, very fast. Even with Reinhardt at his back, you didn't win a fight against the Emperor’s personal shadows.

"I need a cover story. Fast. Maybe I’ll file a boring report on military retirees? I have to explain why I looked at Coleman first... I don't get paid enough for this!"

Dean kicked the floor in a fit of pique and stormed toward the exit. He’d memorized everything—the gist of the papers, the dates, the details. His brain recorded data as visual images, so he could rewrite the "missing" papers from memory if he had to.

Coleman was a genius, sure. But Dean didn't think for a second that he was second-best.

In a room so sterile it felt like a coffin, the only sound was the beep of a terminal and the breathing of two people. A woman of a certain age sat in a functional, ugly chair with the posture of an empress. Across from her, a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair stood as stiff as a board.

"Hehe, looks like another win. Give Team D a fat bonus."

The woman stared at her terminal with a twisted grin. One of her pet projects was humming along nicely.

"And the Alliance?" the man asked.

Without moving her head, she cut him a look that could freeze fire. She sighed, her shoulders slumping with boredom.

"Ignore them. An alliance built on panic isn't a market; it's a circus. Though... there are a few interesting bits."

She tapped her terminal, accessing her [BISHOP] interface to pull up a file labeled 'Special Notes.'

"Live-bullet weapons that can be guided by [BISHOP]. Apparently, it requires 'special talent' to use. Do you think we can sell that?"

The man hesitated. "Unlikely. If the user base is that small, the market is negligible. However, the tech itself? That has value."

The woman snorted. "Spoken like a brochure. Boring. But, fine. Send in some spies. Let’s see what they’re hiding."

"Understood. I'll arrange it. And the Phantom?"

"That is our top priority. Find a way to bring it—and them—to our side. If we have to use force, so be it, but I’d prefer a peaceful 'merger.' After all—"

She smiled, and for a moment, she looked like a child on Christmas morning.

"It’s Coleman’s masterpiece. No one else in this vast, empty galaxy managed to turn nanomachines into a functional Biological Weapon. Imagine it: our Enhanced Infantry, on our ships, using our guns. It’s perfect. Doesn't it just give you goosebumps?"

She gave him a wide, innocent smile. The man didn't say a word, but his face twitched in a rhythmic, nervous tic.

(The Protagonist? Who? No such person appeared in this chapter.)