Episode 236

"Haa… haa… what happened to… the Third Wave over here?"

Taro wheezed, trying to reign in his ragged breathing. His eyes were wide open, staring blankly at nothing. He was currently submerged so deep in the ocean of BISHOP operations and high-speed data processing that actual visual information was just an annoying distraction.

"Regrettably, we only confirmed three direct hits, Mr. Teiro. However, we have successfully baited the enemy fleet’s attention. Aside from the incoming swarms of ship-borne craft, we’ve sustained no significant damage."

Koume’s voice filtered into his ears. Taro didn’t dare break the razor-sharp focus he was using to juggle enemy tracking and anti-air fire control, but he gave a vague wave to no one in particular.

"I see… Bella-san, was it? Thanks…"

He mumbled the words like a man talking in his sleep. Eventually, he felt a soft, firm squeeze on his raised hand. Someone had grabbed him.

"Don’t go pouting over ‘only’ three hits, kid. Personally, I think those three were worth their weight in gold."

The voice came from right beside him. Taro didn’t have the mental RAM left to calculate the current market value of three hits, so he just gave a weak, confused tilt of his head.

"The Second Wave from before? If things had kept going that way, every single one of those warheads would’ve been swatted out of the sky like flies," Bella said, her voice dripping with confidence.

Taro swallowed his 'So what?' and waited for the punchline.

"And that’s even though you were the one piloting those pesky warheads halfway through! The fact that three of my last-minute, makeshift shots actually connected means one thing. It means—"

She paused, her grip on his hand tightening.

"The other side is officially hitting their limit."

Her voice was a whisper, thick with relief. Deep within his hazy consciousness, Taro processed this with a dull 'I see,' and a tiny, ghostly smile tuged at the corner of his mouth.

"You’re the Generalissimo, so just focus on your job. Leave the rest to me. If they’re at a breaking point, then right now is the climax."

The warmth left his hand. Then, he heard the faint snick of a lighter. Taro managed to squeeze out one last concern: "But, your mind… they'll see…"

"So they peek inside my head? Big deal," Bella shot back. "In this business, you often find yourself in situations where you know exactly what’s coming and you’re still too screwed to do anything about it."

The bridge of the Mercenaries’ flagship was usually a quiet place, but now it was smothered in a silence so thick it was suffocating. There was no combat-induced shouting, no frantic reporting, no idle chatter. Everyone on the bridge looked utterly lost.

"Their movements… they’ve changed… Guns… she’s finally moved…"

Etta panted painfully, her eyes a roadmap of burst capillaries. She wasn’t naturally gifted at parallel processing; micro-managing a massive fleet along with its ship-borne craft was a task that was currently grinding her soul into paste.

"Guns… Bella Arzimof, was it? We’re seeing a massive HAD deployment around the vessel identified as the enemy’s Second Command Ship. Our ship-borne craft can’t get anywhere near it. It seems the rumors of her talent weren't exaggerated," Etta’s Adjutant remarked, sounding as bored as if he were discussing the weather.

Etta found his nonchalance incredibly grating. She shot him a look that could kill.

"She’s not… there… The commands… are coming from the flagship…"

How can he be so dense? she wondered, her irritation spiking into irrational fury. Of course, he didn't have her abilities, but the fact that he couldn't just know made her want to scream.

"Is that so? In that case, shall I lower the attack priority on the Second Command Ship?"

"Whatever… just do it…"

"As you wish. However, I must remind you that as I am not a tactical specialist, I cannot take responsibility for the outcome. According to company regulations, in such an event, the duty falls to a qualified officer or the highest-ranking commander present."

"I said do it!" Etta shrieked.

The nearby commander jumped, his whole body trembling. The Adjutant, however, remained perfectly aloof. Etta fumed, wondering why this man existed solely to push her buttons.

"…Tetta, a word," Etta whispered, leaning toward the girl beside her. She double-checked that the Adjutant wasn't eavesdropping on the comm frequencies and opened a Confidential Line via BISHOP.

"You can detect mass, right? Can you do it at close range? Like, specifically, a person in this room?"

[YES, BIG SISTER. ACCURACY ACTUALLY INCREASES AT CLOSE RANGE.]

"Good. Then measure the mass of that Adjutant over there. Get me his weight."

[THE ADJUTANT? I MEAN, I CAN, BUT…]

"Just do it. I don't have time to explain."

Etta waited. When Tetta finally pinged back the data, Etta let out a long, shuddering breath of relief. The Adjutant’s weight was that of a standard, squishy human male. He wasn't a Cyborg. No matter how much someone tried to fake it, a metal chassis was heavy. Etta had been terrified that the Phantom—a man capable of wearing anyone’s face—had infiltrated her bridge.

"……Hmph."

Now that she was certain he was just a naturally obnoxious jerk and not a shapeshifting assassin, she decided to have him transferred to a frontline meat-grinder infantry unit the moment the war ended.

"The EAP military… they should have… checked in by now… what’s the status…" Etta asked, her face twisted in a mask of pure loathing.

The Adjutant gave a sharp "Ha!" and tilted his head. "Nothing in the Data Bank yet… Ah, wait. My apologies. It just arrived. They say they are 'proceeding with all haste.' No departure logs yet, but that’s likely just comms lag over the distance. The ships might actually beat the data here."

Etta smirked through her exhaustion. If they could pincer the enemy now, victory was a mathematical certainty. She was at her limit, sure, but the enemy had to be worse off.

She had spent years ruling the Enzio region from the shadows, guided by the infallible Coleman's Formula. Rising Sun had been a nasty, irregular glitch in her system, but she had recovered. The EAP military was essentially the Mercenaries’ lapdog now, holding the most influence within the Alliance. Selling them high-end ships at a discount—while stuffing the cargo holds with untraceable bribes—had been a masterstroke of investment.

"Heh… hehehe… there’s no way… I can lose…"

It was messy, it was chaotic, and it wasn't going exactly to plan, but the big picture was still in her favor. The EAP military. The reinforcement fleet of One Corps tailing the advance carriers. Admiral Sod’s Advance Unit with its mountains of steel. They were divided for now, but it was only a matter of time before the trap snapped shut.

"The one who wins… is me…"

Etta flashed a smile so ghoulish it made Tetta visibly flinch.

On a galactic scale, it was a stone’s throw away. To a human, it was the ass-end of the EAP Alliance Territory, far beyond Zayed. This was the border of White Dingo Territory, a space where both sides had slammed fleets into each other more times than anyone cared to count. In this volatile patch of stars, two massive fleets sat staring each other down.

"Don't give me that! It's obviously a bluff! The Dingoes wouldn't dream of attacking us alone without Rising Sun to hold their hands! We have the superior force!"

A man was currently screaming at a boy who looked like he barely needed to shave. The man, who represented the EAP Alliance United Fleet, showed zero respect for the boy—who happened to be the Alliance Top. In fact, he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, a perfect snapshot of the EAP’s internal power struggle.

"I’m well aware of that, Mr. Toh. Really, I am. But we can’t exactly ignore them, can we?"

Rin Barkhorn, President of Little Tokyo and technically the highest-ranking official in the EAP, spoke with a calm, brave face. He didn't flinch, even though the man shouting at him was twice his size.

"This is a Dingo provocation! We shouldn't bite! It’s worse than meaningless—it’s a distraction!" Toh roared, slamming his fists onto the desk.

They were in the private office of the Cruiser Barkhorn. Rin reached out, picked up a small statue of the Hero Tiger that had been knocked over by the impact, and set it back upright.

"It’s not entirely meaningless," Rin said smoothly. "By parking our fleet here, the civilians on the nearby stations can sleep easier. Besides, this is the White Dingo we’re talking about. They don’t do 'meaningless.' They might have something nasty up their sleeves."

"If that’s the case, leave a skeleton crew! There’s no reason to keep the main force pinned down here!"

"Well, about that… it's a bit embarrassing, but Little Tokyo doesn't have the assets to do anything more than basic patrols. Sending this one small fleet was already a stretch. We really need the military to stay and hold the line."

"What about Takasaki? How long are those cowards going to stay hididng in the docks?"

"They took a beating in the Enzio Campaign, remember? Don't be unreasonable. Besides, Takasaki just scaled back their EAP operations after the spin-off. I doubt they'd come even if I begged. And I think you know exactly why they feel that way, don't you?"

"……Hmph. Those people were price-gouging and profiteering. We simply procured ships at a fair market value. If anything, we’re the ones who saved the Alliance’s bottom line."

"If you say so. Let’s just agree to disagree. Anyway, are we done? I’m a busy man."

Rin stood up and gestured toward the door. Toh looked like he wanted to spit nails, but he just let out a loud, theatrical click of his tongue and stomped out.

"……Man, I bet the Big Boss is screaming at him to hurry up and join the party," Rin muttered, his face relaxing into a boyish, innocent expression. He picked up a recording mic and clicked it on.

"Testing, one two. This is Rin Barkhorn to Ding the Dingo. Hey, the military is getting twitchy and looks ready to move. Could you give us a 'moderate' attack soon? I’ve got a few unmanned ships prepped for you to blow up. Make it look good, okay? Thanks."