Episode 88

It had been a few days since Taro’s inspection of the Rising Sun Battle School. He was currently tearing across the planet Katsushika, desperately hunting for corporate partners to handle the mass production and deployment of the massive Railguns. The project was finally moving, but Taro was feeling the burn.

While he’d managed to sign a few factories, the numbers were pathetic. They had enough juice to churn out defenses for the Katsushika Star System, but if he wanted to look toward the future, the current output just wasn't going to cut it.

"The place we just left is a total bust. Their neighbors think they’re scum," Taro grumbled.

His portable terminal was currently a scrolling list of nasty rumors and workplace grievances regarding the last factory. It wasn't quite a Dickensian nightmare, but the company clearly didn't give a damn about its workers.

"Looks like they have a regular rhythm of 'accidents,'" Marl added, glancing over his shoulder. "They had a big one just two months ago. Several employees were seriously injured... but they settled out of court to keep the inspectors away."

"Oof. Where’d you dig that up? Wait—don't tell me, was it Alan?"

"Who else?"

"Then it’s the gospel truth. Forget them. Into the trash they go."

When it came to digging up dirt, nobody in the Rising Sun could touch Alan. Taro promptly dragged the factory's name from his "Candidates" list to his "Semi-Blacklist."

"That leaves us with Yoshida Heavy Industries and Silverman Material Corp," Taro mused, nodding to himself as he visualized his short-list. "S Narrow Publishing is handling the PR blitz, so all we have to do is actually deliver the goods."

Silverman Material Corp was, as the name implied, the long-standing baby of Mayor Silverman. Its reputation in Katsushika was gold-plated. Yoshida Heavy Industries, on the other hand, was a corporate titan that spanned multiple star systems.

Crucially, both companies leaned heavily on outsourcing. Taro wasn't interested in a corporate vacuum that sucked up all the work; his philosophy was "let’s all get rich together." If he went with the big guys who played nice with subcontractors, the wealth would actually trickle down to the smaller shops.

"It would be nice to see the little guys get a piece of the pie for once," Marl said. She paused, her expression shifting to something more mischievous. "By the way, Teiro, did you hear the news? You’ve officially become a Bounty. Two hundred thousand Credits."

"Whoa, it finally happened! My big break!" Taro’s face lit up for a split second before it soured. "Wait... only two hundred thousand? That’s it? My life is that cheap!?"

To a normal citizen, two hundred thousand was a fortune. To Taro—who was currently raking in hundreds of millions—it felt like a personal insult. Sure, a lower bounty meant fewer professional assassins breathing down his neck, but his ego was taking a massive hit. He felt undervalued.

"Dead or alive, or kidnapped—they aren't picky," Marl said, shrugging with an exasperated sigh. "Alan and Phantom think you’ll be fine as long as you stop being a total space-cadet and watch your back. Just like before, don't go out without a bodyguard. Fortunately, we have plenty of 'violent types' on the payroll."

Taro did a mental roll call. He had the military duo, Alan and Phantom. He had the four hunters of the Cats. He even had the Mafia connections through Bella and Squall, even if he hadn't seen them lately. Heck, even Dean was basically part of the inner circle now.

"...I didn't really think about it until now, but my social circle is terrifying," Taro muttered. If I were a normal guy, I wouldn't come within ten light-years of this group.

"Don't worry," Marl deadpanned. "The general public feels the same way. About all of you. Including you."

"Yeah, I guess... Wait, what? Me too? No way! I’m the nice guy! I’m the protagonist!"

Marl just sighed, looking at him like he was a particularly slow child.

"Teiro, look at the facts. You’re the boss of a heavily armed private fleet and a weapons development conglomerate. You’re backed by legendary hunters and ex-military spooks. You’re in bed with a notorious Mafian Corp. You fund your empire with, among other things, adult goods. Oh, and you have a high-ranking Imperial Military relative in your Union, and they call you 'Commander' at your private Warship training facility. If you heard that description, what would you think?"

Taro went pale. "I... I sound like the leader of an evil secret society."

The image Marl painted was practically a checklist for a late-night anime villain or a classic movie antagonist.

"Damn it! I’m not suspicious, I’m incriminating!" Taro wailed. "Where did I go wrong? I was aiming for that 'refreshing, cool-guy hero' vibe. You know, like the guy with the gun for an arm, or the guys who use the Force!"

"A gun for an arm? Is that some kind of Cyborg thing?"

"No, no! You’re supposed to whistle and say 'Hyu!' like a space pirate! Ugh, Koume would’ve gotten the reference... oh, here’s our ride."

Taro checked his terminal as the High-speed Vehicle arrived. The electromagnetic car glided soundlessly into the station through its metal tube, and the duo hopped in.

The ancient layout of Katsushika Station was a mess of sharp curves, meaning the cars couldn't hit top speed, but it beat walking. In ten minutes, you could be anywhere. The cars lacked windows, but the interior walls were plastered with monitors screaming advertisements. Every company in the system was engaged in a desperate arms race to see who could make the least annoying commercial to keep the passengers from losing their minds.

"Still no big moves in the war, huh? I don't get it. What is the Enzio Alliance even playing at?"

Taro scrolled through a report from Clark. The front lines were stagnant.

"Who knows?" Marl looked bored. "But given their original motive, maybe they’ve just lost their mojo."

"I mean, it was basically just a giant economic stimulus package for them, right?" Taro said. "Maybe they’re just camping out until their new toys are finished."

The war between Enzio and the EAP had devolved into a series of pathetic skirmishes. The EAP had zero interest in an offensive, but the fact that the Enzio Alliance—the ones who actually declared the war—were sitting on their hands felt incredibly eerie.

"I’ve got a bad feeling about this. I wish we could get some eyes on the other side, but the communications blackout is a nightmare."

The collapse of the Old Neural Network had left the EAP and the Enzio Alliance Territory in total digital isolation. With the war on, the only people crossing the border were the occasional desperate defector or a merchant with a death wish. And neither group was talking. One side was hiding for their lives; the other was keeping their mouth shut to protect their profit margins.

"Maybe you should lean on Lin," Marl suggested. "She’s bound to have some intel, and she’s not going to just ignore you. Besides, the WIND situation is getting weirder by the day. It’s bothering me."

Taro nodded. The TRB Union hadn't officially folded into the EAP, so they were technically on equal footing—on paper, anyway. Even if the EAP was a galactic titan compared to Taro’s group, Lin wouldn't keep him in the dark about something critical.

"I’ll call her when I can. It’s not like we’re drowning in work today. And yeah, the WINDs... it’s too quiet. It’s creepy."

"Exactly," Marl said. "Only three sightings this entire month. Last month, it was one every three days. I’m worried they’re massing somewhere."

"I don't think so. We’re scanning every Overdrive-capable zone in range. If they were grouping up, we’d see the heat signature."

Space looked like a wide-open highway, but that was a lie. The concentration of Drive Particles was patchy, creating specific "lanes" for jumping. You could try to fly the long way for a few thousand—or million—years, but nobody was that patient.

[INCOMING CALL / SENDER: SECRET (ENCRYPTED)]

Taro’s BISHOP flashed a notification. He blinked, decoded the message, and scanned the text.

"It’s from Dr. Arshimov... Whoa. Seriously? No way, Doc. You can't be serious." Taro started muttering to himself, staring into the middle distance with a look of pure exasperation.

"What? Tell me!" Marl demanded, leaning in.

"It’s Earth. You know how the Doctor was crunching the observation data? He got a hit."

"Wait, really!? That’s incredible! Where is it? ...Actually, looking at your face, it’s in a terrible spot, isn't it?"

"Bingo. He’s ninety percent sure it’s deep in Enzio territory. Somewhere within a five-hundred-light-year radius of Star B424. The area is massive... and apparently, the Doctor tried to hijack a ship to go there himself. His assistants had to tackle him before he could launch. God, I love that man."

Marl sighed, clearly able to visualize the elderly scientist being dragged away from a cockpit by his lab coats. "He never changes. But that’s a huge lead. We’ve gone from searching ten thousand light-years to just five hundred. That’s massive progress. Then again, we spent ninety million Credits on those six terminals, so he’d better produce results."

Taro let out a weak, nervous laugh. He’d been the one to back the Doctor on that absurdly expensive purchase. If it had been a dud, Marl would have had his head.

"Still... Earth, man. I’ve been so busy I almost forgot, but now that I know where it is... I really want to go home. I want to just lay in the grass and look at a blue sky. And man, I would kill for some miso soup."

His mouth practically watered as he thought of home. The Empire had plenty of food, but it all felt... corporate. Uniform. It lacked the soul of Earth’s messy, vibrant culinary cultures.

"Miso soup?" Marl asked, tilting her head. "Is it actually good?"

"Good? It’s life-changing," Taro said wistfully.

Marl looked at him for a moment, then offered a solution so simple Taro felt like an idiot for not thinking of it.

"Well, if you miss it that much, why don't you just make it?"