Episode 200: The Middle of Nowhere

"Crap! That ship is way too fast. Our destroyers can't even touch it!"

"Stop trying to chase it! It’s just a Small High-speed Ship. Send the frigates into a flanking maneuver via Micro Overdrive!"

"He’s breached the RS-44 perimeter! No mere businessman pulls moves like that!"

The chaotic chatter of the fleet's internal comms blared through the bridge. Taro sat there, glaring at the Radar Screen, his brain working in tandem with BISHOP to assist with Coordinate Calculations and a dozen other variables. When it came to a short-range sprint, his massive, lumbering Battleships were at a distinct disadvantage.

"Hey, hey, what is this? My guys are getting played like a cheap fiddle. The only ones actually cornering him are Bella’s squad..."

A bead of cold sweat rolled down Taro’s neck. They hadn't taken any actual damage, and it was hard to imagine what a single tiny ship could do against an entire fleet. But the fact that the pilot was this good meant they were dealing with a seriously veteran organization.

"Hmm. This is most precarious, Mr. Teiro."

Koume waved her hand across the large screen. A point arrow flickered into existence, pointing toward a sector of space incredibly far from Star Garuda.

"If this continues, they will escape into the interstellar void. If that vessel possesses even a basic Stealth Function, finding them again will be like looking for a needle in a dark room."

If they’re running, they’ve definitely got stealth, Taro thought. "Even with Etta on the job, we’re screwed?"

"It would move from 'difficult' to 'technically not impossible,'" Koume replied. "If they kill the engines entirely, there’s almost no radiation to track. And that thing is microscopic compared to the scale we're searching."

"You’ve got to be kidding me. If they’d just jump, the perimeter squads would snag them, but... they won't. They know a jump is an instant 'Gotcha' moment."

Taro clicked his tongue in irritation, his mind racing for a solution.

Now that the target knew they were there, he couldn't just let them walk away. But he also couldn't spend weeks playing hide-and-seek until the guy ran out of snacks and oxygen. He had a schedule to keep; the Alliance couldn't stay empty forever.

"Hey, why don't we just ask them to surrender?" Marl suggested. "They obviously know they’re up to no good. They probably think we’re going to execute them the second we catch them."

"Fair point," Taro muttered. He opened a channel and sent a formal communication request. If they didn't answer, he was just going to spam them with one-sided threats.

"Not that I expect a guy like this to pick up the phone, but—"

Taro’s thought was cut short as the connection light blinked green. It had connected instantly.

"Wait, it worked? Uh... Ahem. Attention, tiny ship! You’re completely surrounded, so quit with the pointless heroics! If you give up now, we might actually be able to negotiate?"

Taro fumbled through the demand, his voice trailing off into a question. Marl poked him in the ribs from the side. "Why did you say that like you weren't sure?!" she hissed.

"Stop your engines right now and—hey, are you even listening?"

「"......Yeah, I’m listening. But I’ve gotta say, I’m surprised. Is that you, Teiro?"」

"Don't you 'Teiro' me! If you don't—wait, WHAAAAA!?"

Taro let out a sound that was less 'commander' and more 'startled poodle.' He recognized that voice. He scrambled to fire off an Identification Signal, and a familiar return ping came back a split second later.

"Ph-Phantom?! What the hell are you doing out here?!"

「"That’s my line. This wasn't exactly on your itinerary. Anyway, I’m heading your way."」

The signal representing the small ship pulled a sharp 180 and began casually cruising back toward the fleet. Taro looked around at his bridge crew, but everyone looked just as baffled as he was.

"Man, I’m glad I didn't try to run toward Bella’s fleet. That coordination was like watching a single, giant predator. I don't think I could've broken through that."

Phantom strolled into the Plum’s lobby, laughing as if he hadn't just been playing tag with a dozen warships. He gave the group a casual salute and sank into a sofa, looking a little worse for wear.

"My Gift is Collective Control, remember?" Bella replied, puffing on a cigar. "It’s not 'like' a single organism—it basically is one."

I really need to install a heavy-duty ventilation system in here, Taro thought, waving away the smoke. "Forget that! What the hell is going on? This place is the backwater of backwaters. It’s not even on the map! Why are you here?"

Phantom shrugged. "I got a tip about some potentially useful info and came to verify it. Can't exactly trust everything you hear these days. But man... I guess I outran the mail transmission. This era is so inconvenient."

He leaned back and gave a massive stretch.

"I think I get the gist of why you’re here," Taro said, thumbing toward the hangar where the Small High-speed Ship was now parked. "But did we even have a ship like that in the fleet?"

"That’s my personal ride," Phantom clarified. "But enough about me. I came here with a mission. What about you? Please don't tell me this was 'coincidence.'"

"Total coincidence. We were just passing by when Etta spotted something, and one thing led to another."

「"............"」

Phantom just sat there, jaw dropped. Taro enjoyed the rare sight of the cool-headed Phantom looking utterly stunned for a moment before launching into the full explanation of their detour.

"—And, well, that’s the long and short of it. You okay?"

Taro looked concerned. Phantom was currently rubbing the bridge of his nose like he was nursing a massive migraine. He eventually waved a hand dismissively, a defeated, wry smile on his face.

"I’m just realizing the God of Probability that dwells in this galaxy must have a massive crush on you. I’d love to tell you exactly how much effort and time it took me to pinpoint this location, but I don't think my heart can take it."

"Ah... hahaha..."

"Anyway, whatever. Regarding that contractor you found... don't bother investigating. I already know who they are."

The lobby went silent. Everyone leaned in.

"The contractor belongs to the Imperial Land Survey Institute. Originally, they just did celestial observations within Imperial Territory, but lately, they’ve been poking their noses everywhere. I’m sure they show up in RS territory for 'surveys' every now and then, right?"

Phantom looked at Koume. She gave a crisp nod. "Confirmed. They send an observation request once every three months. Since they are technically an arm of the Imperial Military, we can’t refuse, though they never actually set foot on our stations."

"Why not?" Taro asked.

"Because my old man already did the work for them, kid," Bella answered. "The Professor accumulated incredibly precise data while he was hunting for Earth. We just send those guys his old files—the 'sanitized' versions, of course. We scrub the locations of important bases and fudge the precision a bit."

Bella mimicked the Professor’s iconic messy hair with her hands. Taro went to ask another question, but Alan beat him to the punch.

"It’s a win-win, Boss. They don't actually care about being accurate. They just need paper proof that they did their jobs. They’ll schedule twenty days for a survey, we hand them the 'completed' data on day one, and they spend the next nineteen days on a paid vacation. We keep our secrets, they get a tan. Everyone’s happy."

Alan said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. Marl groaned, "Corruption as far as the eye can see," and Taro couldn't help but agree.

"But wait... if they’re Military, aren't we screwed? Can we even fight back?"

Phantom shook his head. "Like Koume said, they’re 'Military,' but they’re an external agency. The Military just rents them the name for a fee. It’s convenient for the contractors to throw around an Imperial rank when they need to enter private space, but in reality, it’s a private company with external capital."

Phantom leaned forward, his shadow stretching across the table.

"The money comes from a paper company, but if you follow the trail, it leads straight back to a firm we all know. They needed people who were completely anonymous—people whose deaths or arrests for capital crimes wouldn't raise a single eyebrow. People who could never be traced back to the source."

His voice was laced with a quiet, sharp anger. The air in the room turned heavy.

"Whether you’re in Outer Space or a slum, everyone has a connection to someone. If you trace the threads, they always lead somewhere, usually further than you’d think. But the people here? They have nothing. No records. No connections. No one to miss them."

Phantom looked down. Bella broke the silence. "The Imperial Citizens..."

"The average Citizen thinks that whatever happens to an Outer Spacer is their own damn fault," Bella said. "They don't care if we kill each other. But that’s only as long as it’s happening 'over there.' If you asked a Citizen to personally murder an Outer Spacer for a little extra profit, they’d say no. They’ve still got ethics; they don't necessarily devalue life."

Marl nodded. "Everyone's just ignorant of what’s happening on the fringes. Almost everyone here is an Imperial Citizen except for Etta and Koume, and none of us treat life like it's cheap. Our employees are the same. So—"

Marl's face twisted with frustration. "The Mercenaries operating in the Center are terrified of being linked to anything dirty. They’re a massive corporation; they live and die by public opinion."

Marl turned her gaze toward Taro. He met her eyes and gave a firm, resolute nod.

"Change of plans," Taro announced. "The people of Garuda might be a 'weapon' for these guys, but they’re also a massive, fatal weakness. If we hit them where it hurts, we can do more than just defend the Alliance. We can actually do something about this."

Taro slammed his palm onto the desk, looking at his crew.

"Let's show these suits what’s what. Let's show them exactly why you don't underestimate an Outer Spacer."

Author's Note: Somehow, we've hit 200 episodes. I'm working hard. Yeah, I'm really working hard.