Episode 189: The Red-Ink Raiders

“That’s one hell of a pile of data... It looks like the pirate situation is way more out of control than we ever imagined. Seriously, the economic damage here is no joke. At this rate, they’re giving WIND a run for their money.”

Alan stared at his terminal, his face twisted into a knot of frustration.

The heavy hitters of the Rising Sun leadership had gathered in the conference room of the Battleship Plum. They were all huddled around a circular table, glowing screens reflecting off their grim faces. The data displayed was a collection of intel from various regional armed groups, most of it funneled in by companies eager to sign up for the newly minted Frontier Police Union (PU).

“It’s not just the pirates,” Marl added with a heavy, soul-weary sigh. “The statistics, the economic scale—everything we had on file was a total fantasy compared to this. Sigh. We really didn’t have a clue what was going on in the boonies, did we?”

Lize shrugged helplessly. “Well, we couldn’t exactly go on a galaxy-wide sightseeing tour to check everyone’s books. We had to trust their reports to some extent. Hopefully, the Police Union will make things slightly less of a dumpster fire.”

The formation of the PU was already a done deal. Part of its mandate was to keep an eye on local administrations, which everyone hoped would provide some semblance of order. However...

“Don’t get your hopes up on the ‘slightly’ part,” Bella interjected, chomping on an unlit cigar as if she were trying to bite it in half. “Relying on them completely is a one-way ticket to a headache. Whether it’s the PU or the government, there’s always someone willing to fudge the numbers for the price of a cheap lunch.”

“The source of the lies is just moving from the bureaucrats to the space-cops,” Taro added, leaning back so far in his chair it was a miracle he didn’t flip over. He clasped his hands behind his head. “I guess we just have to set them up to watch each other and pray for the best?”

“True,” Marl said, poking at her terminal. “We’ll probably need a specialized internal affairs agency eventually, but for now, 'vague' is the best we can do. At least this data is solid. It’s raw stuff from before the corruption rot had a chance to set in.”

The group nodded in unison and went back to scrolling.

“I still can't believe how deep the drug trade goes,” Alan said, his eyebrow twitching in disbelief. “Even big-shot corporate execs are on the buyer list.”

Taro tapped his screen, bringing up the list of customers for "Heating Equipment"—the galaxy's least subtle euphemism for narcotics.

We swapped out the rulers, the economy is booming, and we’re pumping out new ways to have fun. Honestly, if the timing wasn't perfect, there’s no way we could’ve made a ban stick.

He remembered the absolute chaos when the drug laws were first proposed. The Alliance was crawling with angry corporations, and some stations had seen protests that looked more like riots. The only reason the laws passed wasn't because of some sudden burst of morality; it was because there was more money to be made elsewhere.

“The drug rehab centers are already packed to the rafters,” Marl groaned. “And since the Alliance is footing the bill, it’s going to be a buffet for embezzlers. Seriously, I’m starting to think we can’t even mock the Imperial Military anymore. We’re just as messy.”

Taro gave a sympathetic nod. “We just have to play the game—look the other way on the small stuff, make an example out of a few big fish, and keep the ship steady. On the bright side—though I don't know if it's related—pre-orders for the Uncensored Erotic Holographic Chips are through the roof. We’re going to need a dedicated heavy freighter just to haul the porn.”

Between selling micro-armor plating and raking in tax revenue, the Alliance’s balance sheet was changing. Everyone expected the old mainstays like the Transportation Department and the Adult Goods division to shrink, but the opposite had happened.

The exploding economy and the constant threat of pirates and WIND meant everyone wanted a piece of the "Alliance Top" brand—the gold standard for "this ship won't get blown up." They made up for their small fleet size by hauling high-value electronics and chips, and they’d basically secured a monopoly on adult toys by slapping massive tariffs on imports. Under the old Enzio isolationist regime, the "spice of life" industry had been stunted. Now, nothing from the Empire could touch Taro's quality. Plus, the new gear was so extreme that it made implementing age restrictions via mental scans surprisingly easy.

“I really thought we’d finally graduate from being an 'adult goods company'...” Marl lamented. “I guess men are just perverts in every corner of the galaxy.”

“Hey, it’s a biological imperative! It’s the engine of human progress!” Taro defended. “Besides, I’ve heard women are actually the bigger perverts.”

“Look at you, talking like an expert,” Marl teased. “Even though you’re a total virgin.”

“Wh—That’s a lie! I am not! I've totally... had the... things happen!”

“Didn’t you say you were the Grand Poobah of the All-Galaxy Virgin Union?”

“That is a secret society that officially does not exist!” Taro shouted. “The first rule of the Union is to publicly deny the Union! Don't talk about it! Anyway—Phantom, did you find anything useful in the 'Heating Equipment' list?”

Alan threw the lifeline to Phantom, who had been silently dissecting the data. The man let out a soft hum, then finally spoke.

“A few things are glaringly obvious. First, there’s a massive overlap with Non-Alliance Corporations—specifically ones with reputations that smell like a week-old corpse. I’d bet my life that these companies are buying in bulk specifically for smuggling.”

Phantom tapped his terminal, and four names out of a list of ten thousand turned bright red on Taro’s screen.

“...Well, that’s going to be a pain in my ass,” Taro muttered. “Those are in Dingo’s backyard.”

All four companies were based in White Dingo Territory. They couldn't investigate them, and asking Dingo to do it was like asking a fox to audit a henhouse. While the Alliance and the White Dingo were currently "work friends" because they both hated the EAP, they were still rival predators sharing a fence.

“Even if these companies are the ones funding those suicide pirates, they’ll be on their best behavior at home,” Phantom explained clinically. “To Dingo, they’re just productive citizens who pay their taxes and bring in foreign currency. Unless we have a smoking gun, he’ll protect them.”

The room collective groaned.

“The guy built his empire by recruitment from the galactic gutter,” Taro said. “If we tell him his citizens might be criminals, he’ll probably ask if they’re hiring.”

“Exactly. He’ll send a polite note saying he checked and found nothing,” Phantom said. “So... what’s the plan? You want me to go for a little stroll and investigate in person?”

He asked it like he was offering to go buy groceries. Taro gave a wry smile but shook his head.

“I know you’re a ghost, Phantom, but if you get caught in Dingo’s territory, it’s a diplomatic nightmare. Let’s hold off. Surprisingly, Dingo’s been keeping his own spies out of our hair lately, so let’s not poke the bear.”

Spy games were a constant of life, but White Dingo’s intelligence activity was weirdly low. The EAP, on the other hand, was crawling all over them, which just made Taro shake his head.

“So what? We just sit here and twiddle our thumbs?” Alan asked, crossing his arms. “Maybe we should lobby the Alliance Council to shift more of the budget into the military.”

Taro mirrored the pose, letting out a long, low groan. “I mean, yeah, we need more ships to handle things on the ground, but...”

“But you’re hesitating,” Alan noted. “What’s on your mind?”

“I’m looking at our neighbors,” Taro said, leaning his elbows on the table.

The EAP and Dingo were suffering from pirates too. Dingo’s iron-fisted rule kept his losses low, but the EAP was getting hammered. Taro’s regular chats with Rin in Little Tokyo confirmed that things were getting spicy over there—and not in the fun way.

“The EAP is stuck in an arms race with the pirates. Rin says the military is getting so bloated and arrogant that the civilian government can’t even look at them sideways. It’s gotten so bad that Sakura is planning to move her whole staff over here soon. It’s basically a corporate defection.”

“Sakura? From Takasaki?” Alan blinked. “Why would a shipbuilder flee an arms race? That should be a gold mine for them.”

“You’d think so, but the military is buying their toys from someone else. Takasaki is too close to Little Tokyo for the generals' liking.”

“Is the military really that powerful over there now?”

“That, and the Enzio Campaign made the public sour on Little Tokyo’s 'economy first' policies. They lost their mojo,” Taro explained.

“People cheer for you during the war, then treat you like a disease once the bill comes due,” Alan sighed. “Standard corporate logic, I guess, but it leaves a bad taste.”

“Exactly. That’s why I want to avoid a massive military buildup here. Most of the companies around us are already bigger than we are. The whole point of the Police Union was to stop our own corporations from turning into mini-militaries.”

“I see... Reckless expansion is just another way to lose control,” Alan mused.

Marl leaned in, staring Taro down. “Okay, but what’s the actual plan? The PU is going to take months to get up to speed. If we do nothing, these companies will start arming themselves anyway.”

Taro stared at the ceiling, thinking. Well, if we can't do it officially...

“Alright... let’s ask the one guy who doesn't give a damn about borders or rules.”

Taro looked at Lize, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as he pictured her older brother.

“If you keep asking him for favors, he’s going to demand something terrifying in return,” Marl warned. “Even you—... Wait.”

Marl froze, her eyes widening. She ignored everyone and closed her eyes, her fingers twitching as she interfaced with the BISHOP system.

“What? What’s with that look?” Taro asked. “You’re making me nervous.”

“Shut up for a second... Hmm. This is wrong. How did I not see this?”

Marl’s hands became a blur on her terminal. A moment later, a new set of data pinged onto everyone’s screens.

“This is the data on the pirate attacks involving suicide ships,” Marl said, her voice dropping an octave. “I mapped out the estimated cost of the ships they’re blowing up against the value of the cargo they’re actually stealing. Look at the balance sheet.”

Taro looked at the list. He blinked once. Then twice. The math was simple, and the conclusion was absurd.

“Wait,” Taro said, his voice flat. “Why the hell are these guys running a deficit to be pirates?”