Chapter 52

Having successfully snagged the data chip at the coordinate known as Point 01, Taro was currently enjoying a lazy cruise toward the remaining two recovery points.

A thick, awkward tension had hung over the control room for a while after their last scrap, but a week later, things had finally snapped back to normal. They were young, after all, and they had each other to lean on.

"We’ll be exiting White Dingo’s territory with the next jump, Mr. Teiro. Finally, we can say goodbye to that mangy mutt."

Koume turned toward Taro and flashed a sweet, beaming smile. Taro muttered a "Finally," and let out a long, weary sigh.

"Because of that guy, we’ve been treated like pariahs everywhere we go. I’m just ready to finally get some damn supplies."

Dingo, the big boss of the White Dingo, had actually kept his word. He hadn’t tried to jump them again after the battle. But while he’d watched Taro’s crew depart in silence, he hadn't exactly offered an apology, either. Taro had been fuming at the time, but he’d been too exhausted to summon the energy to lodge a formal complaint.

After leaving the combat zone, the crew had tried to stop at the nearest stations for supplies and repairs. However, no matter how hard they negotiated, docking permission was flatly denied. They tried several other stations along their flight path, but the answer was always the same: Access Denied. It took them a while to realize the truth—every single rock in this sector was under Dingo’s iron-fisted control.

"Ugh, talk about a sore loser! We might not have lost anyone, but the ship is a wreck and everyone’s banged up. If he ever shows his face in Imperial Territory, I’m going to fleece him until he’s bankrupt!"

Marl vented her fury, punctuating her words by drumming her fingers against the flexible material of the monitor’s frame. Taro offered a distracted "There, there," to soothe her as he initiated the final Overdrive sequence. The ship was hurting, and he wanted it in a dry dock yesterday.

"Live ammo, repairs, replacement parts... just thinking about the bill gives me a migraine. I hope our trade profits can cover it..."

As Marl groaned and clutched her head, Taro shot her a look of detached sympathy. Unless it involved a truly astronomical sum of money, he remained blissfully indifferent to financial matters.

[OVERDRIVE: TERMINATED]

Accompanied by the usual sensation of mild, reality-warping intoxication, Taro brought the ship out of the long jump. He began running through the routine post-jump checks like a bored assembly-line worker, nearly missing a critical signal in his autopilot haze.

"Wait... we’ve got company. Please don't tell me I have to deal with another pointless shootout."

Three points of light sat mockingly on the radar screen. Taro glared at them, tilting his head as he weighed his options. Marl looked over his shoulder.

"At this range, we could probably hide with the scan scrambler, but wouldn’t that just make them more suspicious if they do spot us?"

"Indeed, Miss Marl. However, that logic usually only applies within Imperial Territory. In Outer Space, running silent is a standard operating procedure."

"Ho, look at you, Koume-chan. So knowledgeable. Where’d you get that? From Bella-san?"

"Negative, Mr. Teiro. That is 'field data'."

Both Taro and Marl tilted their heads in confusion. Ignoring them, Koume tapped at her console and pointed to the radar screen on the main display.

"...Are you for real?" Taro muttered, his jaw dropping.

The radar screen, now updated by Koume, was lit up like a Christmas tree. Dozens of light points indicated a massive formation of ships arranged in perfect intervals. Taro frantically ran a wide-area scan and compared it to the results.

"The scan isn't picking up a thing... Are you sure it’s not just a bunch of space debris?"

"Negative, Mr. Teiro. The probability that these are vessels is extremely high."

"Okay, I’ll bite. What’s the catch?"

"This, Miss Marl."

Koume held up a black, palm-sized chip, waving it at eye level.

"Observation data?" Marl guessed.

"Precisely. This is Dr. Arjimov’s observation data. It contains detailed records of every celestial body in this sector. Aside from transient debris, there are no exceptions. It even accounts for time-axis variations, including orbital periods. Calculating the exact position of every star and planet for the current timestamp is trivial."

The large screen filled with a projection of stars, looking like a high-tech planetarium. Koume looked up at it and overlaid a semi-transparent image. "And this is our current scan result."

"Wow. Suddenly there are a lot of stars I don’t recognize," Taro said, his voice dripping with dread. He dredged up his old Military Academy lessons and remembered a specific brand of electronic warfare: Celestial Camouflage.

"There are twenty-two 'celestial bodies' observed by the scanner that shouldn't exist. Some might be stations, but certainly not all of them."

"I see... Hey, Teiro? I’m getting a really, really bad feeling about this," Marl said, her brow furrowing.

"You and me both," Taro agreed. "If they’re just sitting there, they’re waiting for us. Those three ships out front are probably bait... but I can’t think of anyone who’d want us dead besides Dingo. Did he finally decide to settle the score?"

Taro didn't know what had happened to Dingo after their fight, nor did he care. All he knew was that the man had blacklisted the Rising Sun from every station in the area.

It wasn't a stretch to think Dingo wanted them weakened for an ambush, but according to the veterans, Alan and Bella, that was unlikely. Their consensus was that if Dingo actually wanted them dead, he’d have brought a fleet of over a hundred ships. Based on the local economy and station traffic, they’d estimated his total strength was massive.

"If we flip and burn right now, we can hit a jump-capable zone in under five minutes, Mr. Teiro."

"Right. Let’s run."

"I agree, but wow, you made that call fast."

Taro squirmed in his seat, giving his hips a little wiggle. "Well, you see~" he said in a sickeningly sweet voice. "Teiro-chan is a total cat person, not a dog person~. If I have to see that puppy again, I think I’ll lose my cool~!"

"...You are truly revolting sometimes," Marl deadpanned.

"Hey! I was going for 'adorable'!"

Taro shot Marl a wounded look before sending the reversal command through BISHOP. As the ship swung around, he felt the familiar tug of centrifugal force and glued his eyes to the monitor, waiting for the enemy to make their move.

"Full speed ahead. Jump the second the particle concentration hits the threshold."

Marl and Koume voiced their acknowledgment. Taro focused every nerve on the scanner.

[IDENTIFICATION SIGNAL RECEIVED: CL-8292] [COMMUNICATION REQUEST: CL-8292]

A notification blinked onto Taro’s HUD.

"Oh? Did the puppy learn some manners? Is he actually calling before he bites?"

"Who can say?" Koume replied. "Regardless, if a dog is going to bite, it requires discipline. Mr. Teiro, please... let me handle this."

Taro blinked, surprised by her request. He figured Koume was probably nursing some pent-up frustration of her own; during the last fight, the sheer number of hits they’d taken had kept her working the shields until she was practically cross-eyed.

"Go for it. Give that mutt a piece of our mind."

Koume flashed him a thumbs-up and a wicked grin. "I’ve been practicing my etiquette with Miss Bella," she said, narrowing her eyes at the monitor. Taro was about to egg her on, but Koume raised a hand to silence him. The line was open.

"I hope you can hear me, you sub-fecal, চার-legged failure of a biological organism. If you have something to say, make sure you attach a 'woof' to the beginning and end of every load of shit you spew. It might actually give a hint of personality to your character, which currently has less value than the space debris clogging up a docking bay."

A deafening silence fell over the control room. Koume looked triumphant. Taro looked like he was trying to figure out which part of that to apologize for first.

"...Uh, wo-woof. Is this the Rising Sun vessel, Plum II? Woof?"

A confused, youthful male voice crackled over the speakers. Koume blinked and tilted her head toward Taro, looking genuinely puzzled. A moment later, the main display flickered to life, revealing a handsome young man with light, dark-green hair and a friendly, if currently bewildered, face.

"Oops. Mr. Teiro, who is this?"

"Okay, Koume. I have no idea who that is. We’re apologizing. We are apologizing right now."

"Don't be so weak, Mr. Teiro! He's clearly playing along, we should keep going—"

Taro wordlessly hijacked the comm line, rerouting it to his own terminal. Experience told him that if he let Koume keep talking, things would go south fast.

"Uh, hey. Sorry about that. We’ve had... a lot of stuff going on. Very stressful. High-tension environment, you know how it is. It’s a whole thing."

Taro bowed repeatedly toward the screen.

"I-I see... I’m not entirely sure what’s happening, but we have no hostile intentions. Woof."

"Stop! You can stop with the woofing now! Please!"

Taro nearly slid out of his chair in embarrassment. He scrambled back into position and cleared his throat. "So, uh... who are you exactly?"

"My apologies for the late introduction. This is the EAP Alliance Expeditionary Fleet. I am the representative of Little Tokyo—Lin Barkhorn. Am I speaking with Mr. Teiro of the Rising Sun?"

The man’s voice was clear and poised. Taro blinked once, then twice, wondering if his translator was glitching.

"Little... Tokyo?" Taro whispered.

The voice from the speaker gave a concise, firm reply. "Yes."