Chapter 58: Back to the Grind

No sooner had Taro and his crew reached Alpha Station than their brief respite was unceremoniously cut short. They dove headfirst into the logistics of their new navigation Route, a grueling process of weighing absolute safety against the crushing pressure of time, all based on the data they’d gathered during their field survey.

Creating a Route wasn't just about drawing a line through space; it required seeding beacons in zones devoid of Drive Particles and mapping out emergency bolt-holes. It was more like building a highway than taking a stroll.

Fortunately, the EAP Alliance was practically made of Credits. Within a few days, they’d finished ordering enough materials to choke a star system. They dispatched a high-speed courier to the Imperial Central Area and brought it all back stuffed inside a super-large transport vessel rented from Gigantech Corp. The rental fee for just a few days was high enough to buy a brand-new ship outright, but at this stage, time was the one currency they couldn't afford to waste.

"It’s big… I mean, it’s always big, but that thing is stupidly huge," Taro groaned.

On their way back from the Alpha Research Station, a massive hull drifted past them. Taro watched it go with a weary sigh. It was a giant, egg-shaped hunk of iron spanning several kilometers.

"Well, there probably isn't a larger ship in the entire galaxy," Marl noted. "But more importantly, the Professor was thrilled. I want to get the remaining two data sets to him as soon as we can."

When the Professor had received the observation data back at the station, he’d beamed like a man whose ten-year-old dream had finally come true. Back when he’d first gone out to repair the sensors, the WIND hadn't been nearly so active, and the relationship between the Dingoes and the EAP Alliance hadn't been a total dumpster fire. Taro and the others had shown up just as he was preparing to give up, making them a very welcome—and very profitable—calculation error.

"Man, I hope our company can fly junk like that around someday," Taro said.

He eased the ship away, mindful of the massive gravitational wake generated by the transport, and opened a comms channel to the receding behemoth.

"Yoo-hoo! Rin-chaaan! How’s it hangin’?"

Taro began to wiggle in his seat, his body undulating in a bizarre, comical dance. Finally, Rin’s face flickered onto the monitor.

"H-H-Hello. I am feeling… incredibly cool. Probably. Um, Teiro-san? Can we please stop doing this? It’s embarrassing. I have a lot of subordinates watching me right now."

Rin was fidgeting with a total lack of masculine grace. Taro wagged a finger at the screen. "You’re too soft! Cast aside that useless sense of shame!"

"But—"

"We decided this would be our official greeting! It’s a man-to-man Yabuhokuuuuu—!"

Thwack!

A physical impact from the side sent Taro tumbling out of his seat. "Not the kidneys, please…" he moaned from the floor. Marl stood over him like an indignant goddess of war, her gaze cold enough to freeze nitrogen.

"Stop trying to lead Rin down a path of deviancy," Marl snapped. She leaned over the console, looking into the monitor with a pleasant smile. "Hey, Rin. I don't know what kind of idiocy he made you promise, but you can forget it. I’m officially authorizing your amnesia."

Marl’s tone shifted back to business-cool. "Stay safe out there. Give those Dingoes a thorough thrashing. Teach those puppies that war is won with economic power, not just teeth."

"Yes, ma'am! Once the war is over, I’ll definitely come back. I look forward to seeing you all again!"

"Ow, ow, ow… Hey, Rin!" Taro shouted, scrambling back up. "I might be out of ways to help for now, but I’m rooting for you. If you lose, I’m never letting you hear the end of it!"

"Ahaha, understood. Please teach me more of your secrets when I return, Teiro-san."

Rin’s eyes were brimming with tears, and Taro felt a lump forming in his own throat.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry!

"What are you leaking for? Save the waterworks for the victory party! I’m heading out. Good luck!"

Taro forcibly suppressed his emotions and slammed the throttle, making the Plum II’s engine roar. No one would have blamed a guy for getting misty-eyed during a farewell, but Taro’s petty teenage pride wouldn't allow it.

"Yes! Let's meet again! I'll send emails!"

The space around the giant ship began to glow with a pale blue aura as it stretched toward the newly mapped trade Route. In a flash, it transformed into an arrow of light and vanished, and Rin’s image blinked off the screen.

"…And there he goes," Marl sighed, staring at the empty patch of space on the monitor. "I wonder if he’ll be okay."

"Of course he will," Taro said, though his bravado felt a little thin. "I told him not to pick any fair fights until the fleet is finished, and I gave him the 'Guerrilla Warfare for Dummies' crash course. He’ll manage. The real question is whether the people around him will actually cooperate."

During their time mapping the Route, Taro had picked up some juicy gossip about the EAP Alliance’s internal politics. Rin hadn't gone into the gritty details, but his expressions had spoken volumes.

The EAP was a massive Alliance—at least by Taro’s standards—which meant it was far from a monolith. Every Union and Corp was out for their own profit. While no one was likely to stage a coup right now, that could change the moment the war turned sour.

"Well, I asked the trade fleet on the new Route to lug news data back and forth, so we can check in on him. But honestly? We’ve got our own problems."

Taro stared with mounting horror at a mountain of Data Chips packed into boxes. He had no idea where to start. This digital Everest was three months' worth of Rising Sun reports. He’d cleared the "Life or Death" stuff in the first few days after their return, but the fine print was enough to make his brain melt.

"We’ll just have to chew through it bit by bit," Marl said, looking just as fed-up as he felt. "We also need to talk to Liza about the Dingo situation. Let’s head back to the Delta headquarters."

Taro nodded fervently and immediately hailed the Stargate Administration Bureau to book a slot.

"President, here is the budget proposal for the next term’s capital investment."

Taro was back in his office at Delta Station for the first time in an age. Surrounded by a swarm of employees in the President’s office, he felt a sudden, violent urge to travel back in time and punch his past self for not doing a proper handover.

"Right, budget. Who wrote this? The General Manager? Approved. Next!"

"Regarding the new hire requirements, do we need to clarify the military service regulations for the war?"

"Ugh, that. Consult with the Union's policy and get back to me."

"Look at this, President. Based on price trends, we should consolidate our general supply procurement to improve efficiency."

"Supplies go to Marl. But don't you dare touch the combat gear budget. That’s a life-and-death thing."

"President, there’s a growing opinion that our trade Route allocation is biased. For risk diversification, shouldn't we expand toward the Beta Star System?"

"Beta? As in, toward the Imperial Center? No way. We’d get eaten alive. There are companies out there that move in one trip what we move in ten. Forget it."

"President Teiro, the estimates for the employee dorms are ready. Both for Delta and Alpha."

"Oh, thanks… wait. Delta’s rent is a nightmare. This is impossible. Run a survey and see if people are okay with 'Plan B'—the communal bunkhouses."

"President, the representatives from Space Cowboy Corp and INF Corp have requested a summit."

"Blech… I hate those guys. Wait, no, I’m a professional. I shouldn't judge based on personal loathing. I’ll be here for a bit, so put it on the calendar."

Swamped by a sea of suits, Taro actually started making a dent in the work. However, three months of backlog was a literal mountain. For every employee who left the office, another walked in. Sometimes they traveled in pairs, like a bureaucratic hydra.

"Aha! Look! It’s twelve o'clock!" Taro shouted, jumping at the sound of his alarm. "Lunch! It’s lunch time!"

A nearby employee offered him a terrifyingly professional smile. "Indeed it is, President. However, since we operate on discretionary labor hours, break times are purely optional. That includes you, sir. We have several urgent matters requiring your seal, so please review these."

A fresh stack of Data Chips landed on Taro’s desk. He glared at them with soul-deep weariness until a label on one of the chips caught his eye.

"This is… Railgun shell test results? And practical application trials? Holy crap, did Makina actually pull it off?!"

Taro bolted upright, clutching the chip. He couldn't sit still for another second. He lunged for the exit. Panicked employees tried to form a human wall, but Taro slipped through their ranks like a greased eel.

"Sorry, gotta go! I’ll be back… probably!"

He tore out the door without even closing it. The left-behind employees stared at the empty doorway, then at each other. Finally, they shared a collective, tired smirk.

"…Well, that’s just how he is."

The rest of the room nodded in grim, silent agreement.