Episode 265

“Yeah, yeah. No, no, it’s fine! Coups are totally out of style these days anyway. It’s just a superstition, I swear. Huh? No, no, no, not a chance! There is zero way my company is mixed up in that!”

Taro was pleading his case for dear life to a business associate on his handheld monitor. He was currently speed-walking toward the reception room of the Battleship Plum, flanked by Marl and Koume, who were both lugging stacks of documents.

After repeating variations of that same frantic script three more times, Taro finally disconnected the call with a heavy, soul-weary sigh.

“Again?” Marl asked.

“Again,” Taro groaned. “I know the foundation for anti-Imperial sentiment is already there, but isn’t this a bit much, even for them?”

Ever since the news regarding that alleged coup had broken, inquiries had been flooding into Rising Sun. Everyone wanted to know just how deep the company’s "special relationship" with the rebels went.

Sure, Taro had a friendship with Dean and didn’t exactly go out of his way to hide it, but he wasn't exactly shouting it from the rooftops either. While he leaned heavily on his connections to the Imperial Military for clout, he had never publicly disclosed his ties to the General as an individual or the specifics of his faction.

Furthermore, while Dean was a shareholder of Rising Sun, the company’s stock was private. It was hard to imagine that information leaking to the public. Aside from the absolute top brass, most of the employees didn't even know.

In other words, for the time being, there was practically nothing that could legally link the military faction to Taro’s crew.

“They’re probably just the type of losers who were pinning their hopes on an Enzio rebellion,” Marl said, her voice ice-cold. “Just ignore them. It turned out to be a false report in the end anyway.”

“It may not be quite that simple, Miss Marl,” Koume’s voice chimed in.

“There is a possibility that a data leak has occurred. Furthermore, navigation by large vessels within Old Enzio Territory has become generally more active. While we have a slight margin before reaching a danger threshold, that won't last if the situation is left unattended.”

For reasons known only to herself, Koume was currently using the slightly clunky, robot-like girl-type body that Taro had given her as his first gift. She gave her arm a stiff little raise, and data related to Taro’s [BISHOP] system flickered onto his screen.

“Feels like the eve of war everywhere you look,” Taro muttered. He scanned the graph showing the surge of Warship activity within the region. The notes regarding the skyrocketing price of foodstuffs and ammunition only drove the point home.

“I’m so over war,” Marl sighed. “If they want to kill each other, they can go right ahead. The companies in our Alliance are staying in line, right?”

“Affirmative,” Koume replied. Then she added, “For the time being.”

“I’ve been drilling it into their heads, so I don’t think they’ll move yet. The council agreed to just sit back and watch for now anyway… All we can do is support the companies inside our territory,” Taro said, looking off into the distance.

They had originally planned to handle everything at the regular meeting in a few days, but the Great False Report of the Century had forced them to move it forward. The heads of the major corporations in the Alliance were all too aware of Taro’s link to Dean, and they’d needed some serious soothing.

“I will state that it was a boring lie. However, the background of how that lie was born remains unknown for now.”

Those were the words Dean had sent him. Taking that cue, Taro had proposed a region-wide alert to ensure no one was led astray by rumors. A few council members had clicked their tongues, but most had looked like they were on the verge of tears of relief.

He’d also managed to push through the proposal for the Zayed Hinterlands Development, despite some sour faces. In exchange, he’d had to promise more aggressive protection for subsidiary companies—a move clearly fueled by their fear of Imperial Center Corporations encroaching on the fringes.

In reality, even in the Alpha Region Space (including the RS Alliance Territory), plenty of groups from the Imperial Center were moving in. Friction was constant. No one was stupid enough to pick a fight with the Alliance itself yet, but the independent companies were fair game.

RS Law was based on Imperial Law; if a formal declaration of war was issued, the Alliance was legally obligated to recognize it. If they started bending those rules, they couldn't exactly call themselves a Mafian Corp anymore.

“Still, we’ve got it pretty good compared to most. Scary stuff. Let’s ask our guest how the rest of the galaxy is doing. Good work on the guard duty!”

Reaching their destination, Taro waved at Phantom, who was standing like a stone statue in front of the door. Phantom gave a sharp nod and pulled open the door to the reception room.

“Yo! You’ve been hanging around here a lot lately. Did you finally get kicked out of your own place?”

Taro tossed out the lighthearted jab as he plopped himself down in the chair opposite his guest.

“I’ll kill you, you shitty brat,” the man replied.

It was Mr. Dingo. It was their usual greeting. Marl, looking profoundly over it, sat next to Taro, while Koume perched herself daintily on a chair behind them.

“Hey, if you did get fired, I could always hire you. We’re short on low-level manual laborers.”

Taro kept the needle moving. It wasn't that he had some deep, festering grudge; he just found that his fundamental human values didn't align with Mr. Dingo's at all.

“Hmph. If it comes to that, I’ll just climb the ladder and take over your Alliance. All I’ve got to do is win a vote, right? Sounds easy enough.”

“...Wait, sorry. Just kidding. Please stop. You’re the one guy who’d actually do it.”

An image of Dingo winning the election flashed through Taro’s mind. For some reason, in the vision, Dingo was wearing a military cap and had grown a tiny, square mustache. Taro apologized with a twitching smile.

“So, what do you want? Whenever you show up, it’s for something annoying, so I’m not exactly dying to hear it,” Taro said, making no effort to hide his irritation.

Wait. He paused. Maybe I should try to see Dean more often even when there isn't any business. He vaguely remembered Dean saying something very similar to him once.

“I don’t want to be here either. Smells like breast milk in this place...” Dingo growled. “This is about business. Nothing major.”

“Like hell it is. You could’ve sent a deputy for ‘nothing major.’ Why are you here in person?”

“Hmph. It seems you still don’t understand your own position. Why don’t you try rubbing those two brain cells of yours together? Or do they only work when you’re sleeping?”

“God, he’s annoying. He’s so annoying!”

The veins were practically throbbing in Taro’s forehead as he maintained a strained, twitching grin. If Marl hadn't kicked his shin under the table, he might have lunged across the desk.

“Every eye in the sector is on your territory, for better or worse. Every move you make is being scrutinized, ‘Mr. Celebrity.’ Now, imagine the boss of the influential neighboring Alliance pays a direct visit. How does that look to the neighbors?”

Dingo paused, letting the implication sink in.

Marl tapped her chin. “Not bad.”

“Even if it really is just for business, the public won't see it that way,” she continued fluently. “Since we fought together in the last war, they’ll just assume we’re consulting on a new alliance or a massive joint project. It’s a fantastic deterrent.”

Dingo let out a dry “Heh” of admiration.

“The woman gets it. Just by me sitting here, the riff-raff will settle down. Anyone thinking of invading us might have second thoughts if they think we're joined at the hip. There’s no reason not to come. The travel is practically free.”

Dingo then proceeded to rudely kick both his feet up onto the empty chair next to him. Taro’s eye twitched, but he refused to give the man the satisfaction of a reaction.

“So you’re using us as a prop. Fine, whatever... but won’t that be a problem for you? Since you’re the one who traveled to see us, won’t people think we’re the ones in charge?”

The social optics of visiting versus being visited were worlds apart. Dingo just gave a derisive snort.

“Let them think what they want. It gives me a great opportunity to flush out the people planning to rebel... My organization is going to have its hands full internally for a while. I need those types to ‘disappear.’”

“‘Disappear,’ huh? Not very peaceful. Well, I’m not going to start nitpicking your management style now. But seriously, what is with you? You’re acting weird.”

Hands full internally. That was a huge admission. It meant Dingo wouldn't be interfering with outside affairs—including Rising Sun. Taro couldn't imagine Dingo leaking such vital intel for free. It didn't make sense.

“I’ve got a feeling trouble is brewing. I want to settle my affairs while I still can. Call it a hunch,” Dingo said, his eyes drifting toward the ceiling as if lost in thought.

Taro let out a skeptical grunt. Before he could push further, Koume cut in.

“Mr. Dingo.”

“You mentioned business earlier. Might I ask for the details? A man as shrewd as yourself would surely not bring up a proposal that is unrelated to the ‘hunch’ you just mentioned.”

Dingo turned a sharp, predatory gaze toward her.

“...I’ve seen it before, but seriously, what kind of AI is this thing?”

The room went dead silent. Taro opened his mouth to pivot the conversation, but Dingo waved him off.

“Fine, whatever. The business is real. It’s a bit big, though. I hear you’re doing something pretty interesting over here lately.”

Dingo reached into the breast of his jacket and pulled out a copy of the Broadside—the newspaper sheet used in Rising Sun. He flicked it around before slamming it onto the table.

“I want to spread this in my territory too. As wide as possible. As long as the price is within the realm of sanity, I’ll pay whatever you ask. I hear your expansion is stalled because the WIND is too thick. I’m willing to shift the borders of our territories to help you out. I’ll give you development rights—hell, maybe even sovereignty over the border zones. What do you say?”

At Dingo’s proposal, Taro and his team could only stare at each other in stunned silence.