It had been a full day since we arrived in the Hephaestus System.
Silence had finally returned to the Sperm Whale’s cargo room.
"...It’s... done..."
Having finished the final wiring check, Mina slumped onto the deck, still clutching her tools.
The term "burned out" didn't even begin to cover it.
Her once-perky rat ears hung limp and lifeless, and her tail lay stretched out flat across the floor. She was covered in soot from head to toe, with dark circles under her eyes that looked like bruises, yet her face held the unmistakable glow of a craftsperson who had achieved the impossible.
"Good work. You did a hell of a job."
I held out a bottle of something resembling a sports drink, but Mina didn't even have the strength to reach for it. Instead, she practically liquefied as she slumped against me.
"...No more. I can't... move a finger..."
"Yeah, yeah. Rest easy."
I hefted Mina up as easily as a sack of grain.
She was light. I’d been making sure she ate properly, but she must have burned through every calorie she had during that marathon session. Not that a few days of decent meals would change her weight much, I suppose.
I carried her toward the living quarters.
"...Where are we going?"
"Your room. I’ve officially registered a private cabin for you. No more sleeping in the warehouse; this room has an actual bed."
I had assigned one of the vacant rooms specifically to Mina.
The moment I stepped into the cabin and lowered her onto the bed, she curled into a ball and began letting out rhythmic little snores.
"...Ngh, Akito... food is so good... mumble..."
I could only imagine what she was dreaming about.
I pulled a blanket over her and glanced around the cabin.
It was a spartan room, containing only the default furnishings: a bed, a locker, and a small desk. The mattress was one of those thin, industrial-grade slabs; it probably wouldn't do much to help her recover from that kind of exhaustion.
"I’ll need to buy some furniture. A real mattress, some curtains... and that precision-work desk she was asking for..."
The shopping list just kept growing.
Still, these were necessary expenses. A captain’s duty was to provide a proper environment for an excellent crew member.
I dimmed the lights and stepped out. She wouldn't be waking up anytime soon. She’d earned her rest.
◇
Now then, while Mina slept like a log, I had things to do.
I returned to the cargo room and looked up at the three ships looming there.
Though they had been recovered with minimal damage, Mina’s extraordinary rush job had completely transformed them.
Two of the three had been successfully restored to "navigable" condition.
The third ship had served as a donor for parts to fix the other two, leaving it a "hollow shell" stripped of its engine and major electronics. However, the frame wasn't warped, and the armor plating was in good shape. It still had significant value as a parts donor, and its generator was still functional.
"I should be able to get a good price for these."
"Executing recalculation of asset value... The estimated return if sold by weight as scrap is approximately 150,000 credits for all three vessels. In contrast, if sold through official channels as two used ships and one high-quality hull frame with a functioning generator, the total is estimated to be no less than 1.2 million credits."
The corner of my mouth quirked up at Lucia’s specific estimate.
Repairing them before selling was definitely the right call. It was worth the effort—even if the effort was all Mina's.
However, there was one catch.
"Now for the tricky part: finding a buyer. A local junk shop wouldn't cut it."
If these were just engine components, scraps of armor, or weapon parts, I could just sell them by weight to any scrapyard.
But these were "ships." Selling a whole vessel was a different beast entirely.
Ships were tied to a digital paper trail—basically a birth certificate—consisting of Hull Number registration, ownership records, and flight logs.
Pirate ships were usually illegal vessels with wiped registrations or "Frankenstein" ships cobbled together from scrap, but to sell them as legitimate vessels, you needed to navigate the bureaucracy.
Wait, what about the Sperm Whale's hull number? I'm pretty sure it isn't registered anywhere, yet it definitely has one. I still haven't figured that mystery out.
"Besides, the generator is a headache too."
I tapped the power reactor housed in the ship's belly.
The generator—the beating heart of any spacecraft—was at the very top of the "items requiring cautious handling" list.
A high-output plasma reactor or nuclear fusion reactor could easily become a bomb capable of leveling a city if handled incorrectly; they were also the primary power sources for heavy weaponry.
Because of that, planetary governments and the military strictly monitored their distribution. Buying or selling a reactor without an official tag was often a one-way ticket to a felony charge.
The generators on these small-scale ships weren't massive, and thanks to Mina’s tuning, their output was stable, but their origins were still murky.
"I could sell them on the black market, but..."
"I cannot recommend that route. There is a high probability of being lowballed, and the risk assessment for future legal trouble far exceeds the expected profit."
"True. We're trying to run a legitimate business here."
I folded my arms and considered my options.
It would be more of a hassle, but taking the "official route" was likely the safest bet.
"...Fine. I’ll head to the Mercenary Management Organization window."
The Guild didn't just verify pirate bounties; they had a department that handled the processing of captured ships. In my memory, it was a sleepy backwater of a department since actually capturing a ship was such a rarity. I imagined reality was much the same. I just hoped it wouldn't be too much of a pain.
They’d take a hefty commission and the paperwork would be a nightmare, but they would clear the ship's title and buy it as "legitimate spoils of war." The Guild would also act as the guarantor for the generator registration.
"Lucia, compile the flight data for all three ships. I’ll need the combat records too. We have to prove we neutralized and captured them in self-defense."
"Understood. I shall begin editing the video data. Should I... sanitize the footage? I can mask the more brutal scenes, such as the precision sniping of the cockpits, to avoid an 'excessive defense' flag."
"Don't be stupid. Leave it in. It's a testament to my skill."
I threw on my jacket.
Mina would be out for a while.
In the meantime, I’d handle the tedious bureaucracy and pick up something delicious for dinner on the way back.
With Lucia in tow, I set off toward the Mercenary Guild branch under the soot-stained sky of Hephaestus.