Episode 72

Countless ship silhouettes flickered across the Radar Screen.

Taro had spared no expense, using the company’s newly overflowing coffers to spring for a top-of-the-line Radar Holograph Screen. Miniature enemy ships hovered in the air, drifting lazily alongside a stream of data: identification numbers, size classes, and threat levels.

"Plum to all ships. Shift formation to Backslash. I’m taking point," Taro commanded.

"Bird One, roger."

"Bird Two, roger."

Following Taro's lead, the fleet fanned out, their left wing protruding aggressively. Two destroyers led the charge, flanked by three frigates each. A total of six ships peeled away from the Plum’s right side to take their positions.

Alan was at the helm of Bird One, while a veteran pilot from the company’s growing roster captained Bird Two. Both were elite professionals who executed their orders with surgical precision.

"Output at sixty percent. Open the Beam Turrets."

"Roger," Marl chirped. "Activating Beam Jamming now."

"Thanks, Marl. Koume, any sign of reinforcements?"

"None, Mr. Teiro. Based on the Drive Particle density, I estimate a direct jump is currently impossible."

"Perfect. Alright, boys—let 'em have it!"

At Taro's signal, eight searing lances of light erupted from the Plum’s Turrets. The Consort Ships followed suit, unleashing a torrential barrage of Beams toward their target: the WIND.

"Initial volley impact: fifteen percent damage. A decent start, wouldn't you say, Mr. Teiro?"

"Not bad at all. I guess those drills actually paid off."

Landing the opening shot of a space battle was notoriously difficult. While subsequent shots could be calibrated using data from the first strike, the opener was always a gamble. Scoring fifteen percent damage right out of the gate was a testament to their relentless training.

"Ready the next volley. Open the Railgun Turrets."

"Copy that," Marl grumbled. "But try not to go overboard. Those slugs represent a massive chunk of our combat budget, you know."

Despite her complaining, Marl opened the Turrets exactly as ordered. Taro let out a cheeky "Heh-heh" and locked his sights onto the next target.

"Mr. Teiro, the enemy has split into two groups. Orders?"

"Eh? Dammit, again? All ships, focus Jamming on the group to the right. Concentrated fire on the left!"

Why can't they just stay in a nice, easy line and die? Taro clicked his tongue, firing off a fresh set of instructions. The fleet’s combined firepower slammed into the left-hand group, swatting down the ships attempting to flank them.

"Group One: eighty percent damage. Group Two has reached Engagement Range. Commencing Shield Control."

Koume’s voice remained unnervingly calm. Just as she predicted, the enemy began their counter-barrage. Thin lines of light crisscrossed the Radar Holograph. The incoming fire from the mix of destroyers and frigates wasn't particularly heavy on an individual level, but the sheer volume was overwhelming. On the radar, it looked like a swarm of angry hornets—or the static on a prehistoric television.

"Whoa, that’s messier than I expected. Are the shields gonna hold?"

Koume tilted her head thoughtfully. "It should be fine, Mr. Teiro. At least for this ship. The new Shield Booster is performing spectacularly."

"It cost a fortune, so it better work," Marl added. "More importantly, Taro, some of those Beams aren't curving. They might be using stabilizers."

"Seriously? Talk about a pain in the ass..."

Taro pulled up the Scan Function, cross-referencing the incoming fire with the known hull data. Amidst the hundreds of Beams lashing across the vacuum, he hunted for the straight ones Marl had spotted, quickly pinpointing their source.

"Bird Two reporting minor damage to ship number two. Ship number three has sustained moderate damage and is withdrawing from the line."

"They're concentrating their fire. Textbook tactics," Taro muttered. "Plum to all units. Bird Two, fall back. Bird One, move up and cover their sector."

"Bird Two, roger. Sorry for the trouble, we're pulling out."

"Bird One, acknowledged. Should I focus purely on defense?"

"This is Plum. Yeah, stay defensive. We’ll handle the big fish here. If you've got the breathing room, pick off the small fry."

Taro shifted his focus back to the offensive, hyper-focusing on his kinetic warheads. He pulled data from BISHOP—future-tech information provided by Alan—and used it to predict the enemy’s optimal movement patterns.

"...And... gotcha! Marl, distance to the enemy?"

"Closing in on the second engagement threshold."

"Roger that. Gon-san, you’re up!"

Taro watched his Railgun round punch straight through an enemy destroyer before shouting into the comms. A gruff "Leave it to us" crackled back, accompanied by the video feed of a literal cat strapped into a cockpit.

This is so surreal, Taro thought, staring at the screen.

"Oh?" Marl chimed in, catching his expression. "I think it’s adorable."

[DRONE BAY: OPEN]

[CATAPULT SYSTEM: STATUS GREEN]

[DRONES: DEPLOYED]

The BISHOP interface flashed through a series of rapid-fire status reports. The sheer speed of the cycle-through spoke volumes about the skill of the fighter squadron.

"Bombing Formation is on the designated intercept course, Mr. Teiro. Estimated time to payload drop: five minutes, thirty seconds."

"Copy. Link their Directional Beacons to our fleet. It won’t be funny if we accidentally vaporize our own guys."

"Relax, Taro," Marl said, checking her monitors. "The Data Link Coefficient is holding steady at over ninety-four percent."

Taro gave a satisfied nod, watching eight circular icons advance across the radar.

Four were the "Cats" in their Bombers, and the other four were their Support Fighters. The Support Fighters were unmanned drones, primarily designed to jam enemy Beams. Unlike the massive HADs, these small fighters couldn't carry much gear, so their roles were highly specialized.

"I wish we could carry more of these guys. I’m always nervous without a few Shield Support Units in the air."

"Are you planning to build a Carrier, Mr. Teiro?" Koume asked. "We could convert the Turret Bays for more drone space, but it’s debatable whether that would actually improve our combat efficiency."

"Yeah, I know. But honestly, fighters are just so damn convenient. Look."

Taro pointed at the screen. The Cats had already begun their bombing run on an enemy ship that was currently in the Plum’s blind spot.

"They can just hop right over the enemy Shield Ships and hit the backline... and they don't care how much Jamming the enemy throws out. No wonder Carriers are the kings of the battlefield."

Taro's mind drifted to the Imperial Military’s super-carriers—behemoths that deployed hundreds of combat drones at once.

"Hardly any company can afford to maintain those," Marl pointed out. "The purchase price and the operating costs are astronomical. I doubt even the EAP could keep one running for long."

"Hmm. The Alliance did mention they were looking into one as a shared resource. If they ever build it, maybe I can convince them to let me take the wheel."

"Mr. Teiro, the strike team is returning. Prepare for recovery."

"Oops, right!" Taro hurriedly rotated the ship. During launch and recovery, a ship couldn't perform evasive maneuvers, so he had to position the bay doors in the enemy’s blind spot.

"Time is money, Boss-man. Open the damn bay already!" Taiki’s voice barked over the comms.

"My bad, my bad..." Taro muttered, scratching his head as he triggered the Drone Bay Door.

---

After the skirmish near the Katsushika Star System concluded, the crew returned to the station. They gathered at a downtown pub for a post-op debrief and a round of drinks. The place was a favorite among Rising Sun employees—a perfect spot to blow off steam after a shift.

The pub didn't have tatami mats, but it was covered in a thick, plush carpet, allowing patrons to sit directly on the floor around low tables.

"Listen, Boss-man. That performance today? Unacceptable," Gon said, perched on a stack of cushions next to Taro. The Cats all wore small robotic arms synced to their BISHOP interfaces, allowing them to handle knives and forks with uncanny dexterity. "You cost us a twenty-second delay. That’s a five percent drop in efficiency."

"Yeah, yeah, my mistake. Maybe I should let you guys remote-trigger the doors from the outside?"

"Don't even think about it," Alan cut in. "Giving external access to the hull’s systems is a massive security risk. People have tried it; it always ends in a spectacular disaster."

Taro crossed his arms, humming in thought. Marl walked over with a cup in hand and slid into the spot next to him.

"I get where he’s coming from, though," she said. "The bay cycle is a pain. There are so many security handshakes involved."

"That’s the point, Vice Prez," Taiki grunted, using his robotic arm to lift a glass of whiskey. Taro watched him with a mix of awe and discomfort as the cat tilted the glass back to drink like a human. In my world, cats lap milk out of bowls. This is just... wrong.

"Why not just install proper Carrier-grade recovery systems?" Yuki, the white-furred pilot, asked sleepily. "You’ve got the credits, don't you?"

"We do not have 'extra' credits," Marl snapped.

"Besides," Alan added, clinking the ice in his glass, "Carrier gear is way too big for the Plum. You’re lucky we squeezed in the HAD drone bays. But honestly, Taro, why are you so obsessed with aircraft?"

Taro stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. "I don't know. I guess back on Earth, the 'Carrier Task Force' was always the symbol of ultimate power. It just sounds cool, you know?"

"It sounds cool? That’s your reason? You—wait." Alan’s face suddenly went pale as a realization hit him. "Taro... you don't mean..."

Taro flashed a wicked grin, his eyes drifting toward the Cats as they lounged around the table.

"I’ve been told I can process dozens of tasks at once. If I pilot a whole swarm of fighters myself... wouldn't that be a hell of a show?"