With 2.8 million credits of seed money in my pocket, I returned to the bridge of the Sperm Whale. As I mapped out my future plans, a certain nagging detail began to bother me.
“Wait, there aren't any maintenance drones.”
The bridge crew were NPCs for hire, but the drones that handled cleaning and repairs should have been "ship equipment"—part of the system itself. In the game, they were just an effect that spontaneously appeared the moment you bought a ship.
Did I really have to buy them all again from scratch?
“...Well, it’s not like I’ve seen every inch of the ship yet.”
Relying on the ship's massive internal map, I headed toward the equipment warehouse. When I opened the doors, I found a labyrinth of shipping containers stacked all the way to the ceiling. Cardboard boxes and equipment cases of all sizes were piled against every wall like a perfectly played game of Tetris.
“Whoa... I’m glad they’re here, but do I seriously have to unbox and set all of these up myself?”
It was a daunting task. However, if I left it like this, the ship would turn into a junk heap, and eventually, the engine room would start failing.
For now, I dragged out a package sitting right at the front labeled "Cleaning Drone FC328."
That was when I heard it.
Rattle... Clatter-clatter...
“Hm?”
A dry sound echoed from the depths of the silent warehouse. Was it a rat? Space vermin existed, sure, but there was no way anything could have nested on this empty ship in such a short time.
I approached the source of the noise. Tucked in the corner of the room was an exceptionally long, coffin-sized case made of reinforced plastic. A sticker reading Precision Equipment was plastered on its side.
Clatter-clatter-clatter-clatter-clatter!
As I drew closer, the vibrations grew violent. It felt like something inside was thrashing around in a desperate panic.
“...I have a very bad feeling about this.”
Looking closer, I saw the fasteners were heavily sealed from the outside with industrial tape and electronic locks. In other words, the container was designed so that it was impossible to open from the inside.
Was this some kind of alien egg I’d picked up during an event? Then I noticed a familiar model number on the label.
Type-L003 Production Model: LUCIA
“...Lucia?”
If my memory served me correctly, that was the name of a humanoid android. She had been a reward from some ultra-high difficulty quest. Her performance stats were actually quite modest—things like Trading Market Correction +2% or Ship Weaponry Lock-on Time -5%. They were nice to have, but they didn't make you dramatically stronger.
Most companions were like that, so I had eventually just kept Lucia as my ship management companion for one simple reason: I liked the way she looked.
“Right. Companions are NPCs like the crew, but Lucia was treated as an item when I first got her.”
I tentatively brought the ship's management terminal close to the electronic lock. A green checkmark appeared on the screen, followed by the hiss of depressurization as the seal broke.
The lid opened slowly. There, buried in a sea of foam padding, sat a girl.
She had translucent silver hair and porcelain skin that looked almost artificial. Her features were so perfectly formed they were the very definition of a "beautiful girl." She was dressed in a functional bodysuit styled after a maid uniform, and she had been curled up with her knees to her chest.
Then, she slowly raised her head and looked at me.
Her eyes were a piercing, absolute-zero ice blue. And within them simmered a look of absolute-zero contempt.
“...”
“...”
Silence.
I hesitated, unsure of how to address her. Nice to meet you? Good morning?
Before I could speak, her lips moved.
“—Imperial Calendar: October 14, 3025. 16:42 hours.”
“Huh?”
It was a beautiful alto voice, but the intonation was mechanical and cold.
“That is the current time. The elapsed time from the moment you regained consciousness aboard the Sperm Whale until this moment is seventy-two hours, fourteen minutes, and thirty-two seconds.”
She—Lucia—gracefully stood up from the sea of foam and began brushing the dust off her skirt. Then, she pierced me with her icy gaze again.
“During that time, I was waiting inside this pitch-black box, pressed against polystyrene cushioning while fully conscious... For three days.”
“Ah... well...”
“Drones are one thing, but to leave me, a high-function autonomous AI, in a packaged state for three days? That can hardly be called a rational or humane judgment, Master.”
There was an unmistakable barb in the way she spat the word "Master" at the end.
“No, wait, listen! I didn't know! I didn't realize you wouldn't just come out on your own!”
“Excuses are unnecessary. I have recorded everything in the logs.”
Lucia cut me off coldly and marched right up to me. She peered into my face from point-blank range. I caught a sweet scent—not the smell of machine oil, but a fragrance like high-end perfume.
“Biological scan complete. Malnutrition, mild heavy metal contamination, and mental fatigue detected. Is this perhaps due to the psychological shock of losing the majority of your fortune?”
“Shut up.”
“Regardless, registration authentication is normal. Regrettably, I shall bring the ship's systems online as of this moment.”
Lucia performed an elegant curtsy. Her movements were perfect, the very image of a maid faithful to her master—except for her expression.
“I am the ship management companion, Lucia. Hereafter, I shall be in charge of this ship's inventory management, accounting, and combat assistance. ...Sigh.”
She just sighed. Did androids even have a sighing function?
“For now, Master, this disastrous state is unbearable to look at.”
Lucia snapped her fingers. A dry crack echoed through the warehouse.
At that exact moment, a chorus of whirring motors rose from the countless boxes stacked against the walls. Packaging tape was torn from the inside as the boxes burst open one after another.
“Whoa!?”
Spider-like multi-legged maintenance drones, disc-shaped floating cleaning drones, and self-propelled lifters for heavy cargo came pouring out. Like worker bees obeying their queen, they formed an orderly column and assembled at Lucia’s feet.
“All units, link established. Commencing cleaning process and inventory organization. Deploying sequentially, starting from the first sector.”
As Lucia spoke flatly, the drones scattered. Things that looked like high-end Roombas crawled across the floor sucking up dust, floating drones scanned the ceiling for grime, and lifters equipped with mechanical arms effortlessly picked up heavy containers and slotted them into shelves.
In the blink of an eye, the warehouse was being transformed from a cluttered mess into an organized space. The air itself changed; the stagnant ventilation normalized, and a faint aroma began to drift through the room.
“W-Wow...” I muttered, dazed.
This was it. This was the "high-tech spaceship life" I’d been looking for. I didn't need to sweat and open every single box myself.
“If you have time to be impressed, please do your job as the captain.”
Lucia shot me a sharp look. She flicked her hand, projecting a hologram window in the air to thrust the harsh reality in my face.
“Your current balance is 2.8 million credits. It seems your debts have been settled, but are you aware of the maintenance costs for a ship of this class? The docking fees alone are five thousand credits per day. Then there are the maintenance costs for the weapons systems, coolant replenishment, and—most importantly—Master’s own living expenses.”
She pulled up a graph showing a bright red downward curve.
“To maintain a vessel of this magnitude, you are short by at least two digits. Currently, you are merely heading toward a 'slow bankruptcy.'”
“I can't argue with that...”
“I am glad you understand. Now, it is time for you to work, Master. Until you make this ship's balance profitable and build up assets that my arithmetic circuits deem to be within the 'safe zone,' I, Lucia, shall manage you thoroughly.”
With that, she kicked an empty box out of her way. Her movement was elegant, yet utterly ruthless.
I was certain now—I’d brought an incredibly cold-hearted Spartan on board.
But she was right. In the game, she had just been a stat boost and a bit of window dressing, but I hadn't realized she would be this competent. This ship, which would have definitely become a trash heap if I were left alone, would be kept spotless as long as she was in charge.
“...Yeah, yeah, I get it.”
I shrugged and watched her back as she briskly organized the ship's environment while commanding her drone army.
...Wait, aren't the roles of master and servant reversed here?
If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider leaving a "★" rating! It might just help Akito afford a slightly better dinner tomorrow.