Chapter 229: The Silent Killer

“Two... no, wait. Three. They’re moving in different directions.”

Etta murmured the words vacantly, her eyes still squeezed shut.

“Three, huh?” Taro muttered back. A bitter taste filled his mouth. Great. Just what we needed.

“One of them is taking the shortest detour toward us,” Marl noted, leaning over to peer at the display in Taro’s hands. “But where is the other one going?”

Taro glared at the map on his handheld terminal. “Hell if I know.”

Marl puffed out her cheeks in annoyance. “Ugh, you’re so useless! Think for once!”

“Hey, it’s not that! Didn't you hear Etta? She hesitated before saying three.”

“So what if she—wait. You mean Stealth Ships?”

“Most likely. They’ve got a small army of Sonarmen over there, so their coordination is probably top-tier. It’s what I’d do in their shoes.”

“If they catch us at night, we’re screwed,” Marl said, her voice dropping an octave. “Without Etta’s constant monitoring, a Surprise Attack would be a total disaster.”

“Exactly. We need to pivot. Fast.”

Taro rolled up his sleeves and began dragging icons across the Tactical Screen, mapping out a new flight path for the fleet. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Etta stifling a massive yawn. A cold shiver ran down his spine.

“We don't know exactly how much they’ve figured out about Etta’s range, so let’s plan for the worst-case scenario. Initially, we were going to take this Route and engage in hit-and-run tactics while retreating, but...”

Taro drew a sharp line toward the coordinates of The Facility. It was the most logical path to ensure they hit the perfect window of time and space needed for their "Delta Jungle" operation.

“We have to scrap that Route,” Marl agreed, her fingers dancing through the air to project a giant red [X] over Taro’s line. “If we’re avoiding combat at night, we’re going to hit Delta Point way too early.”

She glanced at Taro. “What’s the buffer? Five percent?”

“Make it five,” Taro confirmed.

Marl tapped the screen, and suddenly a dozen new potential Routes bloomed across the map, all leading to the same destination but taking various scenic detours.

“I’d love to get Bella’s input on this, but she’s probably up to her neck in it right now...” Taro rubbed his chin. “Man, this is a mess.”

Currently, the Rising Sun Main Fleet was locked in a desperate rearguard action against the enemy pursuit force. Bella didn't even have time to blink, let alone consult on navigation. For the enemy, chasing a fleeing target was child's play; for RS, the job was to be as annoying as possible without actually getting caught. It was a high-stakes game of keep-away where they had to buy time without taking any major losses.

“She’s going to scream at us that we’re supposed to be the operations headquarters,” Marl sighed. “Mathematically, this Route here is the best fit, but I don’t know. I’m not feeling it.”

“You think I am? I’m flying blind here. But someone has to make the call.”

“True... The biggest risk is arriving too late. If we prioritize safety, this Route is the winner.”

“...No,” Taro countered after a long silence. “It’s the opposite. If we’re late, we can figure something out. But if we get there early, the whole operation is a bust.”

Marl’s eyes went wide. “Are you... are you saying you’d abandon Alan? We can’t just cancel the plan now!”

Taro flinched under her accusatory stare. “I’ll do everything in my power to make sure it doesn't come to that,” he said defensively. “But look at the situation. Alan helped write this plan. He knew the risks when he signed up. He knows there’s a chance we won't make the window.”

“Alan knew? Wait! Nobody told me that! I thought the plan was to prioritize rescue in the worst-case scenario!”

“Ugh, that idiot was probably just acting cool for you. Realistically? Rescue is impossible during that operation. If he has to run for it, we’re all in trouble anyway. The plan is to aim for the bullseye, and if we miss, we miss on the side of being late. We’ll take this Route.”

“What a jerk...” Marl grumbled, though her eyes looked a little watery. “I actually thought he was a decent guy for an idiot. His company was finally getting off the ground, too... I wonder if he has a family? If he dies, does his stuff go to the government? Or do we inherit the company?”

“Hey, he’s not dead yet! Stop talking like his funeral is tomorrow! You’re creeping me out!”

Taro kept one eye on his notifications for any SOS from Bella while he finalized the new Route. The Assault force, spearheaded by the Battleship Plum, was currently being held in reserve. They were the "Final Boss" that would only turn around to strike if the enemy got close enough to smell their exhaust.

“Still, I can’t believe those guys are actually pulling their weight...”

Taro watched the tactical feed with a look of pure disbelief. Every few minutes, a colossal Beam of light lanced through the vacuum. It was the "Techno Boy"—essentially the Battleship Techno Break strapped onto the Battleship Cherry Boy—and it was sniping the pursuing enemy from extreme range with terrifying precision. Aside from Bella’s occasional harassing fire, almost all the damage dealt to the enemy fleet was coming from the Techno Boy and the Battleship Samasa.

“I called them a bunch of disgusting creeps earlier,” Marl admitted, looking slightly pained. “I guess I owe them an apology. They’re basically our MVPs right now.”

She was likely remembering the recruitment disaster from a few hours prior.

The Black Hawk Corp—a group of losers whose ships, the Techno Break and Cherry Boy, were named after internet slang for "dying while masturbating" and "virginity"—had nearly dissolved after the fight with Admiral Sod. Most of them were amateurs who had realized that space combat was actually quite terrifying.

The Rising Sun negotiators had tried everything: more money, hazard pay, post-war pensions, medals of honor. Nothing worked. In fact, when the negotiators offered to find them "real jobs" after the war, the crew had nearly rioted in protest of the idea of actual labor.

That’s when Koume had stepped in. “Perhaps we should leave this to Mr. Teiro. I believe he is the only one who truly speaks their language.”

Taro had been pushed into the room with the weeping negotiators and sat down with the Black Hawk crew.

“‘Unwanted meddling’ my ass,” Taro had told them. “You guys just don’t want to work. It’s okay. Neither do I. But listen—I’ve got a lead on a job. You watch raw, high-end adult videos from the Central systems and write detailed reviews. You can do it all from home. I can even get you tours of the filming sets. The pay is crap, but it’s a 'socially recognized' career... What? Yeah, don't worry, there's plenty of 2D stuff too.”

The professional negotiators had watched, mouths agape, as Taro spoke to the mercenaries like long-lost brothers.

“If you’re feeling brave, you can join our Security Department,” Taro continued. “The instructor is a hard-ass, but we’ve got a school. If you tell them you’re a combat veteran, you’ll be living the [MMK] life. You know? Motete Motete Komacchau—so popular with the ladies it’s actually a problem. We’re short-staffed everywhere. Unlike other companies, we actually have to see people face-to-face, so you’ll have to get used to that... unless you take the work-from-home review job. Criminal records? We can talk about it. We’re all friends here.”

An hour later, Taro had walked out with a smug grin.

“It’s handled,” he told Marl. “A few of them were holdouts, but they folded when I promised Koume’s old gym clothes as a tournament prize. We’re still negotiating on the AI-generated adult video imports, though. Apparently, android fetishes are a big thing in their circle. Oh, and we’re all going on a giant group blind date after the war. Just... try to be nice to them.”

“That is disgusting! They agreed because of gym clothes? And Koume only has one set!”

“Yeah, they’re going to shred them into palm-sized squares for the whole crew. They were already fist-fighting over who gets the piece with her name tag on it. It’ll be fine.”

“What is wrong with those people?” Marl had shrieked. “And what is wrong with you for being so casual about it?!”

That was then. Now, the Black Hawk Corp was fighting with the ferocity of lions under the command of the Suga Siblings.

“You think they’ll run out of Drive Particles if they keep jumping like this?” Taro asked, his voice dripping with exhaustion.

“You’re kidding, right?” Marl snapped. “They calculated that stockpile perfectly. At this rate, the final showdown is going to be something like 200 against 400. Can you even win against those odds?”

“No way. Not unless we take out that super-dreadnought. But it’s probably crawling with Sonarmen; no torpedo is ever going to touch it.”

“I figured... Sigh. I guess we have to go through with that plan then. God, I hate this.”

A heavy silence settled over the Bridge, broken only by the soft, rhythmic snoring of the sleeping Etta.

“Excuse me, Mr. Teiro. I have prepared the items you requested. However, I cannot verify if these are considered ‘complete’ by your standards.”

Koume appeared at the entrance carrying a silver tray. Taro perked up and joined Marl in approaching the android.

“What is this? Hot jelly?” Marl poked the white blobs on the tray and made a face. “I’ll pass. Looks slimy.”

“Actually, it’s a traditional dish from my homeland for celebrating the New Year,” Taro explained. “It’s... uh... I forget the name. Basically, it’s pounded rice. It’s also a notorious Silent Killer. Every year, it claims several lives back home. But man, it’s addictive.”

Taro picked up a piece, dipped it in a soy-based sauce, and popped it into his mouth. It wasn't as stretchy as the real deal and the texture was a bit grainy, but it was close enough to hit the nostalgia button.

“A celebration food that kills people?” Marl asked, horrified. “And why are you celebrating the New Year anyway? Just because the calendar number goes up?”

“I mean... I don't know? Because we survived the winter, I guess?”

“Winter? That makes no sense. Planets have different seasons depending on where you are. Somewhere out there, it’s the middle of summer right now. Why would they celebrate a New Year then?”

Taro paused, a blob of white dough halfway to his mouth. “Huh. Now that you mention it... that is weird.”

In the middle of a star system filled with lethal beam fire, they stood there having the most trivial conversation imaginable. They knew the destination was close. They knew they would soon have to put their lives on the line. But that was exactly why they needed this—a moment of normalcy to keep their sanity intact.

“We are approaching the fourth checkpoint, Mr. Teiro,” Koume announced. “Time to Delta Point is approximately 32 hours and 20 minutes. We are currently four hours ahead of schedule, so we will need to decelerate or find a distraction... Also, may I try one?”

Koume reached out and snatched a piece of the white dough. Before Taro or Marl could protest, she popped it into her mouth.

“I see. So this is the flavor. Oh? Why are you two staring? I cannot digest organic matter, but I can simulate the act of eating. If I simply adjust my internal...”

Koume stopped. Her hands went to her throat. She began jerking her neck back and forth, side to side.

“...Mmmph! It appears a piece of ‘Mochi’ has become lodged in my primary intake valve. This is... problematic.”

Taro watched her struggle to swallow the "Silent Killer" and felt a strange sense of pride. She was definitely becoming more human every day.

And because he was so distracted by her evolution, he didn't even notice that she had correctly identified the food as Mochi.

Happy New Year!