Once we finished our break at the cafe, we went our separate ways outside the shopping mall's exit.
Mina’s haul of tools and gadgets was so massive it took several drones to carry it all back to the ship. More importantly, I had some unrefined business of my own that I couldn't let the women overhear.
I sent the two of them off with a vague excuse about "checking out the market" and headed down to the colony’s lowest level.
◇
Deep within the Transaction Hub's lowest sector, tucked away in the back of a dimly lit bar, I found my contact.
An information broker sat across from me, a hood pulled low over their eyes.
"...I see. Implementing a sense of taste for a high-performance android and an organic conversion system, is it?"
The broker muttered the words while swirling the amber liquid I’d ordered for them.
"That's a tall order in this part of the galaxy. You can find plenty of hacks around here, but if they touch a machine that sophisticated—Lucia, was it?—the only result will be a dead hunk of metal."
"I know. That's why I'm looking for a place that can definitely do it. I don't care if it's a long haul."
As I spoke, the broker pulled out a terminal and projected a holographic map into the air. They pointed to a star system two gateways away.
"The technical colony 'Techne Prime.' It's a research city with some of the best cybernetics tech in the galaxy. A legitimate lab there could handle the surgery perfectly."
"...A legitimate lab, huh. That sounds like it'll be quite expensive."
I furrowed my brows. The fifty million credit figure mentioned by the repairman at Hephaestus flashed through my mind. If this was a top-tier research city, there was a very high possibility it would cost even more.
"No doubt about it. But their work is guaranteed. Besides, as far as I know, there isn't another place in existence that can perform that kind of procedure correctly."
The broker spoke with absolute certainty.
Information transfer in this universe is surprisingly primitive. While FTL communication exists, it has to be routed through the massive Gateway Network, and the bandwidth is strictly limited. The lines are constantly choked with government bulletins and corporate trade data. In the end, niche personal information or black market rumors move faster and more reliably when someone carries them in person.
That was precisely why information brokers who earned their keep with their feet were still so highly valued.
"Techne Prime, then... I have no choice but to go, but I need the funds first."
I drained my glass and grumbled. I had eight million on hand, but between the full-scale kitchen renovation and opening up supply routes for real ingredients, I had a mountain of goals and was growing impatient. I’d be here forever if I just earned money bit by bit.
"Are you hurting for credits?"
"I'm not exactly hurting, but I have a major expense coming up."
When I shrugged, the broker grinned and slid a different data chip across the table.
"Then I have a lead for you, Captain of the Sperm Whale."
"...You know who I am?"
"You're a bit of a rumor among my peers. A skilled transporter who repels space pirates with a single ship and then captures their vessels to sell for scrap."
The broker lowered their voice.
"A man with your kind of nerve might be interested in this. It's the coordinates for a 'Battlefield Site'."
"A Battlefield Site?"
"Yeah. Near the border with the neighboring sector. There was a large-scale fleet battle between the Regular Army and the Rebel Army a month ago. Since both sides retreated, the area has been left completely untouched."
I picked up the chip.
A large-scale battle one month ago. Judging by the timing and location, that was likely the main event of the skirmish where I’d delivered emergency ammunition for the Regular Army. Back then, I’d had my hands full just supplying the fringes, but in the center of the sector, the main fleets had been slugging it out. That meant there was an iron graveyard drifting in the void, filled with sunken warships and abandoned equipment.
"Why has it been left alone? Usually, the scavengers would be swarming a place like that."
Salvaging a Battlefield Site was high-risk, high-reward business. Normally, junk shops and freelancers would have rushed in within hours of the final shot.
"Normal contractors can't get anywhere near it. The battle is over, but the area has been turned into a 'Minefield'."
"Mines?"
"Exactly. Both sides seeded the area with a massive amount of autonomous space mines during their retreat. Mines are mindless weapons, but their ability to neutralize a ship's shields is terrifying. They'll strip a hull bare in an instant and blow holes in the armor. Plus, rumors say plenty of unmanned combat drones are still wandering around after losing their command signals. If you approach carelessly, you'll just be more scrap for the pile."
I see. It was being ignored because the danger outweighed the potential profit for most.
However, from another perspective, that meant a mountain of treasure lay there, ripe for the taking. These were military vessels. There was a high possibility that a Cruiser Class hull—the kind of big score I was itching for—was out there waiting.
"...Sounds interesting."
"Doesn't it? The coordinate data is on there. But good information isn't cheap."
"I'll pay. Call it an investment."
I made the decision on the spot and transferred the fee. It wasn't a small amount, but if this opened the path to fifty million, it was a bargain.
"Pleasure doing business. Don't die out there, Captain."
The broker gave a casual wave and vanished into the shadows of the bar. I gripped the chip tightly and followed them out.
◇
Back on the ship, I shared the news with Mina and Lucia.
"...Techne Prime. If we can make it there, we can get Lucia her surgery."
"Destination set. Star system coordinates confirmed. We are two Gateway Jumps from our current location. Estimated travel time is approximately ten days, including sub-light navigation."
Lucia answered in her usual monotone, yet her voice carried an unmistakable lilt of excitement.
"However, Master, using the gateways is expensive. After deducting the round-trip tolls and travel expenses, our current capital will be significantly depleted. Our cash flow might become precarious, to say nothing of the surgery costs."
"I know. That's why I've got a job lined up."
I brought up the coordinates of the Battlefield Site on the main monitor. A swarm of debris and red warning icons—mine signatures—flickered across the screen.
"We’re going to take a detour and earn some war funds."
"Eek... we're going there? Do you have a death wish?" Mina grimaced. "Mines and automatic defense drones... nobody in their right mind goes near those. If we hit a mine, the Sperm Whale's shields will evaporate instantly!"
"Mines are a pain, but their logic is simple. Besides, the Sperm Whale's shields can take a few hits if it comes to that. With Lucia's targeting assistance and my marksmanship, we'll pick them off before they even sense us."
I spoke with total confidence. This was the benefit of my experience from the game; breaking through a minefield was a walk in the park.
"The real problem is the drones. They’ll be numerous and small, making them hard to hit. We’ll need a specific countermeasure for them."
I pulled up the ship's weapon catalog. I usually stuck to energy weapons to save on ammo costs, but this was a job for kinetic weapons.
"We should have buckshot rounds for the Gauss Cannon in stock. Lucia, order a batch immediately. I want them tuned for close-range defense."
"Understood. Which warhead type?"
"Split the order: half flechette rounds for a wide spread, and half EMP warheads. We'll fry their circuits and leave them dead in the water."
I grinned. Unlike in the game, real kinetic weapons had a variety of specialized munitions. They were expensive and a hassle to resupply, but the flexibility to choose my ammo based on the situation was worth it. My love for gimmick crafts hadn't steered me wrong after all.
"...Ugh. Fine, I'm in! But if we find any rare parts, you'd better increase my share of the loot!"
"Deal."
The three of us laughed. Our destination was set. First, we’d make a killing at the Battlefield Site, then we’d take that mountain of credits and head for Techne Prime. It was a perfect plan.
"Alright, let's move out! Target: the iron graveyard!"
The Sperm Whale detached from the dock and turned its bow toward the sea of stars.
Just you wait, fifty million credits.