Episode 78

The Alpha Station General Management Office was a room so depressingly bland it made cardboard look exciting. Surrounded by flavorless gray walls, the cavernous space held nothing but a rectangular table and a series of chairs, each equipped with its own holo-display. Since every bit of data could be piped directly into a terminal, the room lacked anything even resembling actual decor.

"Looking at it now, this place was really the definition of 'peaceful,' wasn't it?" Taro grumbled.

He was currently occupying the seat of honor at the center of the table, squinting at a list of the station’s pathetic defense assets. Seriously, this is it? A slingshot and a prayer?

"Until that Neural Network Collapse turned the galaxy upside down, this place was basically a galactic truck stop," Alan replied, his eyes glued to his own monitor. He occasionally reached out to poke a display, but for the most part, he was multitasking through BISHOP with the focused intensity of a man trying to defuse a bomb with a toothpick. "Now, Alpha is the only thing keeping the Empire connected to this side of the woods."

"It’s the bare-bones special," Koume added, standing perfectly still behind Taro’s right shoulder. A data cable snaked from Taro’s terminal into her right hand, allowing her to main-line the station’s archives. "Long-range cannons, shields, and a handful of scramblers. As Mr. Teiro observed, it was just enough to get by—until it wasn't."

"Well, nobody likes spending money on things they don't think they'll use," Marl sighed from Taro’s right. She was scrolling through the star system’s market listings, her face growing sourer by the second. She was hunting for heavy equipment for the station, but the results were underwhelming. "And now we’re the ones paying the price for their stinginess."

The hardware available was either ancient relics that belonged in a museum or modern gear priced so high you’d have to sell a kidney just to see the brochure.

"Honestly, it’ll be faster to just custom-order the stuff," Marl continued, pointing at a graph on her terminal where the 'Demand' line was pulling a vertical rocket maneuver while the 'Supply' line was crawling along the floor like a tired turtle. "The market is a mess. Everyone’s panic-buying."

"Only a few companies can even build the big stuff," Gon grunted from across the table, resting his chin on his pudgy, round hands. "Gigantech Corp is probably making more money this century than in the last three combined. Maybe we should just stop worrying about station guns and just buy more ships?"

"I mean, we’ve got the credits for the hulls," Taro said, leaning back with a groan. "But ships don't fly themselves. Finding a crew right now is a nightmare. It’s a total seller’s market for anyone who knows which end of a laser is the spicy one."

"Tell me about it," Marl agreed. "We’re offering top-tier benefits, but the applications are barely trickling in. Being at war with a massive Alliance is a bit of a deal-breaker for most people with a functioning survival instinct."

"And half the people who do apply are just opportunistic thugs looking for a quick score," Alan added. "The Personnel Department is practically weeping on my doorstep, begging for a solution."

"Hmm... well, if they're thugs..." Taro tapped his chin, a dangerous glint in his eye. "Why don't we just lean into it? We could form them into a Hoodlum Squad!"

"Denied," Alan snapped instantly. "Those idiots would do something catastrophic within twenty minutes. Are you trying to drag the Katsushika’s reputation through the dirt?"

"Yeah, fair point," Taro conceded, leaning so far back in his chair he was nearly horizontal. It was worth a shot.

Up until now, Alpha Station’s defense had been a "sit and wait" affair. Against the old WIND tactics, that worked fine—it was basically just swatting away very angry, very predictable space rocks. You did the math, you pointed the guns, and you went back to lunch.

But the new WIND? They were playing chess while the station was still playing tic-tac-toe. They split their forces, used diversions, and actually reacted to Taro's moves. As Gon said, they needed a mobile fleet that could jump to wherever the fire was hottest.

"Mr. Teiro, may I make a suggestion?" Koume asked, raising a hand with polite modesty.

Taro sat back up and gave her a nod. "Go for it."

"During the Dingo Defense Battle in the Alpha Star System, the station held out against all odds because of the Volunteer Force. While the average citizen doesn't feel the fire under their seat just yet, I suspect quite a few are starting to smell the smoke. There is a growing sense of crisis."

The table went silent as the others processed that.

"So, we stop trying to do everything under the Rising Sun banner?" Alan mused. "Teiro, she might be onto something."

"A Volunteer Force, huh?" Taro rubbed his neck. "But we can't just ask people to die for free. We’d need some kind of incentive program. Or a very fancy 'Thank You' card."

"True," Marl said. "But honestly, if someone has a ship and things get scary, the 'normal' reaction is to pack up and warp out of there as fast as possible."

"Unless they really love their home station," Gon pointed out. "But there's a bigger issue: coordination. If a bunch of randoms show up and start shooting, they'll probably hit each other more than the enemy. We're used to being Hunters, sure, but Hunters are lone wolves. We aren't exactly known for our 'teamwork' skills."

Taro let out a low hum, sinking into thought. Then, he snapped his fingers.

"What if we started a school?"

The table stared at him. The silence was thick enough to cut with a vibro-blade. The collective expression on their faces clearly said: Are you high?

"Think about it!" Taro continued, ignoring the judgmental stares. "We need mercenaries and volunteers, right? But we need them to not be a disorganized mess. So, we make them study. We teach them how to actually fight as a group."

"You want to build a Military Academy?" Marl asked, skeptical. "Taro, that takes years. We kind of need to not explode this week."

"No, no, they’ll be fighting while they learn! Practical experience! And look," Taro pointed a finger at his own temple and grinned. "Not to toot my own horn, but I’ve got enough fleet-command data in this brain to write the ultimate textbook."

I’ve literally got a cheat-sheet for galactic conquest in my skull. Might as well share the wealth.

Marl’s eyes widened as the realization hit her. "Wait... actually... that could work. We offer free tuition in exchange for mandatory defense duty. If we find any geniuses in the mix, we scout them for the Rising Sun Security Department immediately."

"It’s actually a brilliant play," Alan admitted, his tactical brain whirring. "Most companies keep their fleet tactics under lock and key. The Empire certainly isn't sharing. Everyone else just has to hire retired officers and hope for the best."

"I don't get all the technical stuff, but if the President has the goods, it sounds doable," Gon said. "But wouldn't the info leak? Other companies will definitely send spies to sit in the back of the class."

"So let them," Taro waved a hand dismissively. "If the other companies get better at killing WIND, that’s less work for me. Win-win."

"But you’re creating potential future threats," Alan countered. "What happens if they use your own tactics against us someday?"

"Man, you guys are thinking way too small," Taro laughed. "If the WIND keep evolving like this, we won't have time to fight each other. We’ll be too busy trying to stay at the top of the food chain."

"He’s got a point," Alan sighed. "Still... the knowledge you have is practically a national treasure, Taro."

"Yeah, and a treasure that sits in a chest is just a heavy rock," Taro retorted. "I'm not saying I'll put the 'How to Destroy the Empire' manual on the public net. Just enough to keep us all alive. We can't afford to bicker amongst ourselves anymore."

"I like the way you think, Mr. President," Gon said, grinning as he offered a meaty hand. "I’m not even an executive, but you’ve got my vote."

Taro shook the hand with a laugh. "Glad someone’s on board."

"Well," Alan conceded, "it’s better than doing nothing. Even if we only find a couple of 'diamonds in the rough,' it would be worth the effort. Lord knows we need the manpower."

"Oh, don't be so gloomy, Alan," Marl teased. "If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right. No failing allowed. The only real problem is..."

Everyone turned their gaze toward Taro. He felt the weight of their stares and held up his hands.

"I know, I know. When am I going to find the time to play professor? That’s the catch. Hey, Alan... you don't happen to know anyone brilliant who could act as my teaching assistant/meat-shield, do you?"

"If I knew someone like that, I would have kidnapped them for our Security Department months ago," Alan grumbled. "A fleet tactics expert who can actually teach? People like that don't just—"

Alan froze. The silence returned, but this time it was sharp.

"Leila!!" he roared, kicking his chair back so hard it nearly hit the wall. "I remembered! Leila Vitoma!"

"Who? Why are we screaming?" Taro blinked, startled by the sudden outburst.

"The man named Phantom!" Alan barked, looming over the table. "You asked me about him once. The guy who was famous for being one of the only people to tell the Empire to go shove it!"

Taro’s eyes widened as the memory clicked. Dean had mentioned him. The legendary ace who survived an encounter with the Imperial fleet.

"The assassin you ran into... that had to be Phantom," Alan continued, his voice vibrating with excitement. "They aren't blood-related, but he has a younger sister named Leila Vitoma. She’s ex-Imperial Special Forces. A total monster who survived an Imperial purge and lived to tell the tale. Dammit, I can't believe she was right here under our noses!"