Episode 270

(Note: This serialized novel has remained incomplete for over a week without an update—omitted below)

The Titan-class: a monstrous behemoth of a transport ship manufactured by Gigantech Corp. Two of these vessels, the Virgin Queen and the Dicker Max, already belonged to Rising Sun and were currently cruising through the Delta Star System. Trailing them at a respectful distance was their latest acquisition, a third Titan-class ship christened the Porno Star.

“…………”

“…………”

On the bridge of the newly minted Porno Star, a heavy, oppressive silence had reigned since the moment they broke dock. Aside from the occasional exchange of technical necessities, not a soul had spoken. Though the bridge of a Titan-class ship was not a combat station—meaning it was palatial, plush, and stocked with every luxury imaginable—no one felt particularly inclined to enjoy the amenities.

“...I mean. Seriously? This?”

Teiro finally muttered the words from the depths of a pilot’s seat designed exclusively for maximum ergonomic bliss. At the sound of his voice, Marl, who had been aggressively tapping away at a handheld terminal, snapped her head up and shot him a look that could have melted hull plating.

“Don’t finish that sentence. I don’t want to hear it.”

Her voice was as sharp as a monomolecular blade. Teiro snapped his mouth shut and hung his head in shame. Desperate for any kind of moral support, he scanned the room for Koume, eventually spotting her staring out a massive observation window. He shuffled over to join her.

“…………”

“…………”

Standing beside the android, Teiro stared in silence at the cavernous cargo hold visible through the reinforced glass. The quasi-vacuum-sealed interior stretched four kilometers into the distance, though currently, the sheer scale was impossible to perceive. The hold was stuffed to the gills. Every square inch was packed with crates, shipping containers, or massive components bolted directly to the structural pillars and floorboards.

Teiro shifted his gaze to a nearby holographic display showing their two sister ships. They’re in the exact same state, he thought with a heavy, internal sigh.

“There is no need to be so distressed, Mr. Teiro, Miss Marl,” Koume said, her voice a perfect, expressionless monotone. “There is no person in this universe who is entirely free of sin.”

Teiro wasn’t sure if he should agree or argue, so he opted for more silence. She’s right, he tried to convince himself, ruminating on her words like a mantra. We’re just... flexible. Across the bridge, Marl stopped her frantic tapping and slumped back, staring at the ceiling with a theatrical groan.

“I know that! I never claimed to be some paragon of virtue... but isn’t this just a bit much!?”

She slammed her terminal onto the table and marched over to them, her boots thumping against the deck. She shoved herself between Teiro and Koume, pressing her face against the glass until her forehead was practically vibrating against it.

“...I know, right? I just never thought...” Teiro mumbled, carefully avoiding her gaze to escape the fallout of her intensity. When she didn't immediately bite his head off, he gathered his courage to finish the thought. “I never imagined we’d actually end up as smugglers.”

The word hung in the air, echoing through the bridge before dying a lonely death. The resulting silence lasted several agonizing seconds. Teiro shifted his weight, feeling the prickle of a guilty conscience.

“It’s not just smuggling,” Marl finally whispered, her eyes wide. “It’s a violation of Imperial Law, Station Ordinances, and the Region Space Treaty—all at once. If we get caught, ‘guilty’ won’t even begin to cover it. Koume, what do the judicial precedents say for something like this?”

“Do you truly wish for me to investigate that, Miss Marl?” Koume asked.

Marl let out a breath that sounded like a tire leaking air. “Right. Don’t bother. If it’s unauthorized... it’s the death penalty.”

Marl stared blankly into the hold. Teiro tried to find a glimmer of hope by thinking of Dean—the man who had orchestrated this entire mess—but the logic didn't hold up. The Alpha Sector, where Dean’s word was law, was still far away. This was the Delta Star System, the very heart of the Galactic Empire. Teiro sighed, echoing Marl, and pulled a small data chip from his pocket. It contained the forged Transit Permits they’d prepared. He flicked it back and forth between his fingers.

“I went through all that trouble to get Dingo to make these, but he said the odds of them actually working were fifty-fifty at best... I mean, it’s not like we had a choice, right? If we just explain the situation, maybe they’ll give us some clemency?”

“Hah! Fat chance. Maybe if this was all over, but right now? We’d be executed as co-conspirators. I bet they’d even haul the senior management of Rising Sun to the gallows.”

“Yikes. Seriously? Damn, I’ve been thinking this a lot lately, but isn’t the Empire a bit too barbaric? A bit... sloppy? No wonder everyone is talking about independence.”

“True...” Marl admitted. “A few months ago, I would’ve told you this was just how things are. But after living in the Alpha Sector, I’ve realized the Empire is definitely not the ‘best’ way to run a galaxy.”

“Second-best, maybe,” Teiro shrugged. “The galaxy is just too damn big. I don’t even know what a better way would look like.”

“I know! We’re tearing our hair out just managing a few hundred million people, and the Empire has 120 trillion... but still! Argh! Why us!? Why here!? Honestly, what kind of excuse can we even give if they find all this!?”

Marl screamed in frustration and thudded her fist against the glass. Teiro leaned over her shoulder to take another look at the cargo.

“...Maybe we’re a film crew? Shooting an adult video?”

“In what universe would that work!? How many videos would we even be making!?”

“Well, I heard sixty percent of the crew is male, so... sixty percent of fifty thousand is thirty thousand? So, thirty thousand videos?”

“I’m not talking about the volume of the footage!” she yelled, pointing a finger at a massive object that dominated the center of the hold. It was boxed in by modular walls and draped in heavy sheeting, a desperate and ultimately pathetic attempt to hide its true nature. “What about that? Are you going to tell them that’s a movie set!?”

Scattered around the "movie set" were thousands of men and women in military uniforms. From this height, they looked like tiny ants, but they were clearly busy: some were exercising, some were holding briefings, and others were just lounging around. In one corner, a unit was apparently practicing CQC in an elaborate survival-game-style arena, trading shots with laser-tag rifles. Magnetic Vehicles zipped back and forth across the deck like a colony of hyperactive insects.

“Well, the Titan-class is marketed on the slogan ‘We can move a whole town,’” Teiro noted. “Besides, it’s mostly disassembled. Maybe they won’t recognize it at a glance? We could call it an ‘artistic architectural installation.’ A design building?”

“There is no way they won’t recognize it! I don't care how many pieces it’s in—a Fleet Carrier is a Fleet Carrier!”

“I guess you’re right. Not many Inspection Officers are dumb enough to miss a strategic superweapon... Look, at this point, all we can do is pray we make it back to Alpha in one piece. It’s out of our hands.”

“I know! I KNOW!”

Marl began to pound the glass rhythmically in a fit of half-crazed despair. Teiro watched her with genuine concern before his eyes drifted back to a structural component poking out from behind a modular wall. Only a few days ago, it had borne the crest of the Imperial Family. Now, it featured a massive, gaudy RS logo.

On paper, these were "dispatched employees" and "loaned equipment" from Princess Minerva. In reality, it was a fully armed, combat-ready army. When Teiro had first seen the paperwork where a Fleet Carrier was listed under the same category as an office desk, he’d actually suffered a brief dizzy spell.

“Mr. Teiro, Miss Marl. I apologize for interrupting your... spirited discussion, but there is a development,” Koume said, staring into the middle distance.

“The advance team reports that a checkpoint has been established at the Stargate two sectors ahead. If we attempt to turn back now, it will likely maximize their suspicion. How shall we proceed?”

Koume tilted her head with mechanical innocence. Teiro felt the blood drain from his face with a physical whoosh. A pathetic, strangled groan escaped his throat.

“I TOLD YOU SO!” Marl shrieked, her voice reaching the registers of pure despair.

Suddenly, a notification blinked in Teiro’s mind.

[NOTIFICATION: EXTERNAL LINE DETECTED]

“‘Yo, General. Judging by the lady’s screaming, you guys are having a rough time. It’s been a while—how’s life?’”

A familiar voice crackled over the bridge speakers. Teiro felt like a drowning man being thrown a life vest. “Alan!” he shouted, immediately launching into a panicked, mile-a-minute explanation of their predicament.

“‘Yeah, I’ve heard the rumors. Sounds like you’re in a real bind. Two stops ahead... that’d be Lizzie’s Stargate. You’ve got maybe a few hours before you hit the wall, right?’”

“Y-yeah! Exactly! Koume just told us. What do we do? Should we take the long way around through Alba? Can you get a message to Dean?”

“‘Taking a detour to avoid a checkpoint is the fastest way to get a Warship up your exhaust port, General. Don't do anything stupid. Dean has his hands full right now, and the guys running that checkpoint are... well, they’re a pain. Even he might have trouble pulling strings with this specific crowd.’”

“Guh... seriously? Isn't there anything we can do!? If they scan us, we’re going to end up in a shooting war with the Empire!”

“‘Normally, I’d say you’re screwed. But lucky for you, General, I think I can handle this one. Don't ask me how—I’ll tell you the story later. Just keep your cool. By the time you reach that Stargate, there won’t be a soul left to stop you... more importantly, hey, General.’”

Alan’s tone shifted. The casual, breezy air vanished, replaced by a sudden, heavy gravity.

“What is it?” Teiro asked.

“‘...Ah, never mind,’” Alan replied. “‘You’ve had a hard run, and I have a feeling things are only going to get tougher from here on out. So... hang in there, okay?’”

The voice wasn’t just kind; it sounded burdened, as if carrying a weight Teiro couldn't see. Teiro felt a prickle of awkwardness at the sudden sentimentality. He shook it off with a shrug.

“I’m just gonna keep doing what I always do. Same as everyone else, right? More importantly, you better be right about that Stargate! I’m counting on you!”

“‘...Yeah. Leave it to me. I’ve never failed a job yet, have I? If I say I can do it, it’s done. Just relax and enjoy the ride. You’re on a big ship, after all—even if yours is way bigger than mine.’”

With a final “‘See ya,’” the line went dead. Teiro felt a lingering trace of anxiety—Alan was always so laid back it was hard to tell when he was serious—but he chose to trust his oldest ally.

As it turned out, his faith was rewarded. When they finally reached the Stargate, they didn't find so much as a single patrol boat. The path was wide open. Despite the nagging guilt of their blatant criminal activity, the crew of the Porno Star allowed themselves a long, deep sigh of relief.

“Well, you’ve racked up quite the tab over the years,” Bella said with a boisterous laugh when she met them at the destination with her own fleet in tow. “When the bill finally comes due, it usually hits all at once. If you want to keep playing with the big boys, you’d better get used to it. The guy’s a shareholder now, and it’s not like you had much of a choice anyway. Besides, you didn't kill or burn anyone, right? A little light smuggling is no big deal in the grand scheme of things.”

Teiro could only manage a pained, twitching smile as he accepted the "comforting" advice of the Space Mafia boss. He did a quick mental scan of his to-do list, and, as was the case every time he realized how deep he was in, he had to fight a very strong urge to just abandon ship and run for the hills.