Chapter 39

A metal warhead screamed through the void. In the vacuum of space, where gravity and atmosphere were non-existent, a bullet’s trajectory was a perfectly straight line of pure, unadulterated violence. Six of these rounds eventually collided with a clumsy, hodgepodge excuse for a ship, tearing into its hull. Had anyone been watching closely, they might have noticed something impossible: the warheads performed a series of complex, jagged evasive maneuvers just microseconds before impact.

"Ten grand per shot... sixty grand a volley... ugh, kill me now, Marl. Life over credits, life over credits. It’s a business expense, just a business expense... but God, it hurts!"

Marl was currently hunched over her monitor, muttering to herself through clenched teeth like a miser watching their life savings go up in smoke. Teiro felt a pang of guilt as he watched her, though it didn’t stop him from slamming the next set of rounds into the turret’s breach.

"E24 is silent. E31 has sustained moderate damage. Detecting a faint Physical Shield response from the target. It appears 'one-shot, one-kill' remains a lofty dream for now," Koume reported with her usual clinical detachment.

"Still, it’s a hell of a lot more effective than trading beam fire," Teiro shot back. "At least we’re dropping one ship per volley. Launch all drones! Alan, they’re all yours."

"Stardust here. Roger that," Alan’s voice crackled over the comms. "Just remember, I’m holding the leashes on a pack of rabid hounds. If they slip the collar, don’t come crying to me."

Teiro flicked his display over to the exterior cameras, watching the hangar bay.

"Blue Comet Team, heading out!"

"Black Meteor Team, launching!"

"Hey! You two, wait—... dammit! Stardust, launching!!"

Six Humanoid Weapon HADs surged out of the dock bay, followed by their high-speed tender. The units belonging to the team leads, Bella and Squall, were painted a loud, obnoxious red.

Teiro had originally questioned if painting them bright red was essentially an invitation for the enemy to shoot them, but Bella had laughed him off. Between the sheer efficiency of modern electronic warfare and the fact that visual spotting was a relic of the past, hiding was impossible anyway. If you were going to be seen, you might as well look good doing it. Plus, it made it a lot easier for allies to avoid crashing into you.

"They certainly seem to be having a grand old time... Koume, how are our shields holding up?"

Koume turned to look at him, her hands still dancing across her consoles with a speed that defied human biology. Teiro assumed she was manually overriding whatever BISHOP’s automated systems couldn't handle.

"Currently within projected parameters, Mr. Teiro. At the current rate of bombardment, the shields can hold for approximately thirty minutes. However, the ablation on the armor plates is becoming critical. I recommend rotating the ship shortly."

"Thirty minutes is plenty. Got it. I guess we have been taking everything on the chin so far."

Even with the shields diffusing the incoming beams, the residual energy was literally cooking the ship, melting and scraping away at the outer layers. The Plum II’s armor was thick enough to make a cruiser jealous, but everything had a breaking point. And when you sat in a microwave of beam fire long enough, other things started to go wrong.

"Teiro! The temperature on the forward exterior is spiking!" Marl shrieked. "Local average is hitting 1050 degrees. If we hit 2000, we’re going to start melting from the inside out!"

"Gah, that’s too hot! Kill the rotation thrusters! Divert all power to the cooling systems!"

[ATTITUDE CONTROL: POWER SAVING MODE ACTIVATED]

[BYPASS CIRCUIT: ONLINE]

[CIRCULATION COOLING: BOOSTING]

BISHOP executed the commands instantly. Power that had been fueling the thrusters was rerouted into the cooling grid. Conduits pulsed throughout the Plum II like glowing blue veins as coolant began to circulate with violent intensity. Giant radiators—one of the few ship components actually exposed to the vacuum—began to glow. These mist-type radiators sprayed heated fluid into space to flash-cool it before sucking it back in.

"E26 sunk. E29 silent. Shield capacity at 75%. Forward hull temperature stabilized at 600 degrees. It appears Miss Marl’s custom wiring is paying dividends already," Koume noted.

Under normal circumstances, ship systems weren't meant to be tinkered with this much. Most ships were built with "common sense" circuits that prevented you from doing things like turning off your steering to boost your fridge. The fact that the Plum II could do it at all was a testament to Marl’s obsessive, borderline-insane modifications.

"So, the heat really has nowhere to go in a vacuum... I finally get why those radiators are so ridiculously huge," Teiro muttered.

"Technically, some heat escapes via radiation, but compared to the thermal energy of a beam, it is a drop in the ocean," Koume said. She then paused, tilting her head. "A hot, flushed body does not cool down easily, after all."

"Stop! Koume-san, please! Stop saying it like that!"

By the time the Plum II had hammered its fourth destroyer into scrap, the kill reports from Alan and the Arzimof siblings began to flood the logs. Alan’s Stardust was busy jamming the WIND engine signatures into oblivion; as the enemy slowed to a crawl, Squall’s Black Meteor Team descended on them like vultures. Bella hung back, picking off targets with her sniper rifle wherever a shield flickered out.

"That’s six! Alright, kid, we’ve got the small fry. You focus on the big ones!"

"Copy that!" Teiro shouted. He immediately slaved the four beam turrets he'd been using for point defense back to the main anti-ship targeting array.

"This might actually work... but they’re getting too close. Cut the bypass! Bring us ninety degrees right, forty-five up! All engines to full!"

Teiro dumped the power back into the thrusters, and the Plum II groaned as it pivoted hard to the right. He was exposing the ship’s flank, forcing the enemy to focus their fire on fresh, un-melted armor.

"Dammit, the nose is all dented and scorched... the repair bill for those plates is going to be astronomical," Teiro grumbled.

"Who cares!?" Marl yelled, her eyes looking a little wild. "It’s cheaper than the railgun rounds! Just keep shooting! Blow them all to hell! I don't care if they're destroyers or gods—make them pay!"

Teiro gave a dry, hollow laugh. Best not to think about Marl right now. He focused everything on the next railgun volley. He thought he heard a tiny, high-pitched scream from the pilot’s seat next to him, but he decided to pretend he hadn't.

"E22 sunk. E30 silent. Shields at 50%. At this rate, our probability of total victory exceeds 90%."

"Ugh, Koume, don't say that! You're going to trip a narrative flag and send us into a crisis!"

Teiro made a sour face, imagining the tropes of every movie and novel he’d ever read. Composure always came right before the "But Suddenly" moment.

"Then again, reality isn't a story... miracle turnabouts don't happen that often in the real world. Sorry, Mr. WIND, but this is the end."

Teiro unleashed another railgun volley, pouring his entire focus into the trajectory control.

There was no grand reversal. No secret weapon. The battle simply... concluded. The WIND, lacking anything resembling tactics or teamwork, had no answer for the Plum II's overwhelming, expensive force. Any small units that tried to swarm the ship were picked off by Bella and Squall, while the distant destroyers were systematically devoured by Teiro’s railguns. When the ninth volley finally cleared the tubes, silence returned to the sector.

"They're huge... that one must be nearly 200 meters long," Marl whispered, her face pressed against the monitor. She was breathing heavily, her eyes gleaming with the predatory light of a woman determined to salvage enough scrap to cover her ammunition costs.

"They’re big, sure," Teiro said, looking up at the main screen. "But compared to that thing, they’re nothing."

Marl and Koume both went quiet. The excitement of the victory evaporated, replaced by the cold, heavy dread of looking at something that shouldn't exist.

"That... isn't a battleship-class WIND, is it?" Teiro asked.

"Negative, Mr. Teiro. The target possesses no engines and no turrets."

"But it’s definitely not harmless," Marl added. "That's the source of the massive jamming field."

"Right... Hey, Alan? You seeing this? Any idea what this scrap-metal monster is?"

Teiro opened the channel to the dock. On the screen, he could see the pilots and crew huddled around their own displays.

"Yeah, Teiro. We’re looking at it. Honestly? No clue. Never saw anything like it in the military reports, though my service was a decade ago."

"I see... Bella? Squall?"

"Not a chance, kid," Bella’s voice came through. "If the Doctor knew about something this juicy, he’d have been here with a screwdriver and a grin years ago."

"The Doctor? Oh, are you an acquaintance of Dr. Arzimof?"

"Hmm? Well, yeah. Didn't you check the roster, boy?"

Teiro blinked. The roster? He pulled up the Union member list on BISHOP and scrolled until he hit the 'A's.

"Bella Arzimof... Wait, what?! You’re his kids?!"

"How rude," Bella teased. "We’re his grandchildren. Do I really look that old to you?"

"Grandchildren? Wait, 'we'?"

Before Teiro could scroll further, Squall’s gravelly voice cut in. "Squall Arzimof. We’re siblings. If you’re going to act like the hotshot leader of the Union, maybe learn the backgrounds of your primary staff? Do you even give a damn, or are you just playing pilot?"

Teiro withered under Squall’s disdain, unable to find a comeback.

"Mr. Teiro is young and lacks experience. Perhaps you could find it in yourself to be lenient, Mr. Squall?" Koume’s voice was flat, but it carried a sudden, razor-sharp weight. Teiro and Marl stared at her in shock. "When you were his age, were you capable of this? Were you already a fully-realized leader?"

There was a long, awkward silence over the comms.

"...Fine. That was a bit harsh, I’ll give you that. My bad, kid. Take it as a piece of advice and move on."

"Ah, no, it’s fine. Sorry," Teiro managed. He wasn't actually mad at Squall, but Koume's uncharacteristic burst of emotion was making him sweat.

He was about to say something to her when Marl let out a strangled, "Ah!"

"Teiro, look at the screen... do you see that?"

Marl pointed at the bizarre, massive structure on the main display. Teiro squinted, and as the image resolved, he felt his heart drop into his stomach. His fingers began to tremble.

"Oh... oh no. This is..."

The comms filled with the stunned gasps of Alan and the others. Teiro took a few steps toward the screen, his face pale as he stared at the monstrosity.

"It's not a ship," he whispered. "It's a factory..."