Chapter 44

At Dean’s bizarre question, Teiro simply tilted his head, his face a perfect picture of "I have no idea what you’re talking about."

"Rest assured. As you can see, there is no one else here, and there is no need to worry about eavesdropping. I’ve even killed the power to the recorders. Would you like to verify that?"

Teiro shook his head. He figured "recorder" probably meant the Hull Recording Device, but he wouldn't have the first clue how to actually check the damn thing. When Dean asked, "Does that mean you have no intention of speaking?" Teiro went for the honest approach.

"To be blunt, I have zero clue what we're even talking about."

"I don't think I’m asking for the meaning of life here, Master Teiro. I am merely asking which branch of the Imperial Military you belong to. I have the authority to ask, and you have the obligation to fess up."

Dean’s voice dropped into a low, threatening rumble. Teiro felt the pressure, sure, but compared to the likes of Bella or Squall, this guy was a walk in the park.

"Look, I don't remember ever signing up for the military. The only army guys I’ve ever dealt with are you and Alan. Oh, is this about my lack of records? I’m not exactly trying to hide anything, but I doubt you’d believe the truth even if I told you."

Teiro answered with as much sincerity as he could muster—which wasn't a ton, but he was trying his best. Unfortunately, the vibe didn't quite translate. Dean crossed his arms, let out a dismissive "Hmph," and pressed on.

"Then how do you explain that little stunt from earlier? I highly doubt a civilian could pull that off without some serious inside knowledge of military protocol."

"Ahaha..." Teiro let out a weak, strained laugh.

While trekking over to the meeting point near Delta Station, Teiro had decided to pull a little prank on the fleet. It was a bit of petty payback for that time back in the Alba Star System when the military had hijacked his ship’s systems in the blink of an eye. He just wanted to see if he could actually put up a fight this time.

"No, well, it was just a joke... a little prank? Was it really that big of a deal?"

"Of course it was! You think that was funny? I was seconds away from issuing a Sinking Order!"

At the mention of being blown out of the sky, Teiro finally broke out in a cold sweat.

His "prank" had consisted of swatting away every jamming and hacking attempt the Imperial Fleet threw at him like they were annoying gnats, and then—just for a split second—locking his weapons onto the ship that looked like the flagship.

"Sinking order...? Yikes, let’s not get carried away. Let’s keep things peaceful, yeah? I mean, when you get hit with that much jamming, a guy naturally wants to push back a little."

Teiro had learned from his previous run-in that the jamming coming from twenty ships at once was, individually, only slightly stronger than a standard signal. He’d figured that if he just crunched all the incoming interference at once, the total "noise" wouldn't be any louder than a single ship’s worth of static. For Teiro, who was basically a human supercomputer when it came to parallel processing, it was easy as pie once he locked in.

"You’re asking the military for leniency? That’s a bold move. Given the circumstances, I’ll let it slide this time without a penalty, but don't expect a second pass."

Teiro flashed another nervous grin. He’d only intended to take the Imperial Military down a peg or two, but it seemed he’d accidentally landed a haymaker.

The reason he’d felt so bold—aside from the thirst for revenge—was that the Imperial Fleet always started their engagements with a scan jam. When the jamming hit, Teiro had played along and accepted it without resistance. This meant Plum couldn't identify the fleet members, causing every Identification Signal to be replaced by a simple, generic string of text: [TARGET: UNKNOWN].

The beauty of it was that his little stunt was technically perfectly legal. Sure, Teiro knew he was messing with the Imperial Fleet, but in court, physical evidence is king. Since his ship’s records showed the fleet as nothing but "Unknowns," there was no legal proof he’d knowingly targeted the military. It was a classic move he’d pinched from the Mafian Corp’s playbook via Koume.

"Anyway, I’m definitely never doing it again, so please have mercy. I just learned a few tricks last time and wanted a bit of payback. That’s all... haha..."

Following his prank, Teiro had been met with a localized sun’s worth of lock-on pings and warning signals. He’d felt like he was knocking on heaven’s door, and Marl had chewed him out so hard he’d nearly gone deaf. He’d gotten his moment of satisfaction, but he’d sworn to himself that he was retired from the prank business.

"Just from that one encounter? Unbelievable... though I suppose it served as a wake-up call. Right now, my Staff Officers are likely prepping for an all-nighter just to rewrite our Electronic Warfare protocols."

Dean still looked suspicious, but he seemed to have cooled off. "Some kind of genius... Come to think of it, Lyza mentioned something about that..." he muttered, staring at the ceiling as he drifted into thought.

"Hmm... Fine. We’re done for today. Sorry for dragging you out here when you're busy."

Dean flashed a pleasant, albeit completely hollow, smile. Teiro felt a prickle of annoyance at the fake gesture but stood up to leave anyway.

"I thought we were here to talk about WIND, but I guess we're playing power games instead. Who’s got the bigger ego, right?" Teiro tossed the comment over his shoulder as he headed for the door.

Dean’s eyebrow twitched with irritation.

"The contract stands as it was, Master Teiro. Our business is finished."

Teiro shrugged at the obvious anger in the man’s voice. Ooh, scary.

Teiro exited the reception room of the Battleship Gray Arrow. Left alone, Dean crossed his arms over his chest, kicked his feet up on the table, and stared at the ceiling to organize his thoughts.

"He didn't act like he had Intelligence training... but then again, even that could be a front."

Dean reached for a switch on the side of the table with a look of pure boredom. "Get in here," he barked. A section of the flat, featureless wall began to rotate, and a woman stepped out from the hidden compartment.

"Good day, Mr. Dean. How did the meeting go?"

The woman gave a slow, creepy bow, fixing her fully dilated, Cyborg eyes on him. Her artificial white hair was cut to a bob, and her skin was so pathologically pale it looked like it was glowing under the lights.

"Don't waste my time with pleasantries. What did you think of the kid?"

"He seemed like just another young man," the woman replied to his blunt query. "His gait is nothing like a soldier's, and his responses didn't strike me as particularly intellectual. His heart rate fluctuated naturally based on your words. It’s safe to assume he hasn't had any mental conditioning."

Dean nodded once. "A dull answer." He glanced at the still-open hidden door, a nagging worry biting at him that Teiro might have seen right through the ruse.

"No... impossible. That’s just ridiculous."

This absurdly primitive hidden door had, as far as Dean knew, worked perfectly every time.

In an age where Intelligence usually meant digital snooping, things like recorders and wiretaps were easily sniffed out by scanners. Intentionally cutting the electronics and using a low-tech hiding spot was a great way to get people to loosen their tongues. Almost nobody ever suspected a Cyborg was physically eavesdropping from the shadows.

"Either he’s truly incompetent, or you are. You’d better hope it’s the former. Now, get out."

Dean waved her away dismissively, not even bothering to watch her leave. He couldn't stand Cyborgs; he loathed them, really. It wasn't because of some deep-seated trauma; they just grossed him out on a physiological level. He’d tried to figure out why once, but eventually decided he didn't care. It had nothing to do with his career advancement, and that was all that mattered.

"Just a normal guy, huh...? Damn it all. If he’s just a regular joe, then what does that make the rest of us who got played for fools by him?"

He slammed his fist onto the desk, thinking of the Staff Officers who were likely sweating over a new Contact Manual as he sat there. It was a mess born from the laziness of a peaceful era, but the military couldn't use that as an excuse. He’d work them until they collapsed, but at least he’d paid them enough Credits and medals to make it worth their while.

"Teiro Ichijo... Just how deep are you involved in this?"

He pulled a single photograph from his pocket and glared at it with pure spite.

The photo, taken by Plum's camera, showed the massive WIND factory—and right next to it was a giant, ominous structure that looked exactly like its twin.