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Prologue

THREE MOBILE KNIGHTS STREAKED ACROSS a planet’s sky. Thick clouds rumbling with thunder covered that sky; rain seemed likely to start coming down at any moment.

Leading the knights was the Atalanta; the two following were both Raccoons. One Raccoon had a large gatling gun fixed to its left arm and a magazine container strapped to its back. A missile container was attached to its shoulder too; it was quite heavily armed.

“Craft Two here. Objective spotted!” Doug Walsh of the Third Platoon shouted in a spirited tone.

Then came Larry Cramer’s panicked reply: “The enemy base is preparing to intercept!”

Larry’s Raccoon had a large rifle equipped, and a submachine gun hung from one of its hardpoints in case an enemy got too close. Otherwise, though, the unit carried no equipment but rifle ammo.

The Third Platoon’s objective was an enemy ground base protected by tall walls. The base released weapons to intercept them; these weapons locked on to the mobile knights and began to rain bullets and optical attacks down on the Third Platoon.

The Atalanta charged through these attacks, heading straight for the base. Its pilot, Emma Rodman, gripped her craft’s control sticks and stamped on the foot pedals. The Atalanta surged forward, pulling ahead of the two Raccoons that trailed it, and enemy fire converged on it.

Charging through the rain of attacks, Emma issued an order to her allies. “I’ll lead the way. Cover me!”

At one point, Emma had always spoken to her subordinates as though she was asking them to do her a favor. She’d grown during their mission to deliver supplies to the Union, though; she seemed much more like a commander now. Doug and Larry had ignored her back then, but now that she acted like their commanding officer, they diligently obeyed her orders.

“Just don’t finish things before we get the chance to back you up, Commander!”

Doug opened the hatch of the missile container on his Raccoon’s shoulder and opened fire. The enemy base’s interception system shot his missiles down, but the explosions filled the air with smoke, impeding their optical weapons’ aim. Doug had fired anti-optical missiles specifically to support Emma.

Larry raised his voice as well, holding his rifle. “Charging is so stupid! Can’t you fight them in a more strategic way?” Though he complained, he still backed Emma up as ordered, sniping a turret that was taking aim at her.

“I charged because I knew you two had my back, Warrant Officer,” Emma told him.

“Like you give us a choice.”

Emma didn’t respond to that.

Instead, Doug raised his voice. “Quit grousing mid-battle, Larry! You can take out more turrets, can’t you? Or was that all your sniping could do?”

Larry seemed skeptical of Doug’s scolding. “Haven’t you changed your tune a little too much?!” But although he was still complaining, he’d done his job, and Emma had infiltrated the enemy base smoothly.

“Base infiltrated!” she confirmed. “Switching to neutralizing enemy infrastructure!”

Soaring over the base’s tall walls, the Atalanta opened fire with its multipurpose rifle, targeting critical facilities. The base kept on firing on Emma, but the Atalanta continued to fly through the air and attack, dodging the enemy fire.

Hostile mobile knights launched, but Emma didn’t let their attacks bother her. A faint sheen of sweat beaded her brow, but she concentrated exclusively on the success of her mission.

“Almost there—!”

Just when victory was in sight, a message was displayed in the Atalanta’s cockpit. One of her allies had been shot down; it was Larry.

Before Emma could speak, Doug snapped, “You idiot! You draw fire because you don’t move around while you’re sniping!”

Emma refocused on finishing the mission. “I just need to take out their command center…!”

The Atalanta’s rifle locked on to the command center the enemy mobile knights were protecting.

***

“Ending simulation. Thank you for playing.”

Once that electronic voice had piped up, the Atalanta’s cockpit hatch opened. Emma stepped out, wiping sweat from her brow.

The waiting Molly Burrell embraced her. “Emma, you got B rank! B rank! On a high-difficulty mission!”

Molly, a mechanic, was wearing work clothes. Her top was half tied around her waist, her plentiful chest covered only by a single cloth strip; she had a lot of skin exposed. Her pigtails bounced back and forth wildly as she hugged Emma.

Emma sighed. It wasn’t that the hug upset her. She was sighing at Larry, who’d just emerged from the third craft in their squad, his Raccoon.

Larry scratched his head, looking both apologetic and sulky. “You expect me to dodge that crap?” he grumbled.

Doug emerged from the second Raccoon and went over to shake Larry by the shoulders. “I told you so many times beforehand—keep moving! So why’d you stay still?! We were seconds from finishing that mission with all craft airborne!” he cried, obviously frustrated.

“But B rank’s not bad, is it?” Larry shot back. “If C is average, then we did well!”

“I wanted to finish with everyone still alive!” Doug dragged Larry into a headlock as Emma smiled wryly.

Next to her, Molly pulled their results up on her tablet. “Yeah—you might’ve just barely made A if Larry stayed alive. If you think about it that way, getting killed is a pretty heavy responsibility to bear,” she noted, joining in the criticism.

Larry protested even as Doug kept hold of him. “You should be happy that we got B rank! That’s impressive, isn’t it?! Not long ago, we couldn’t even have wrangled a C!”

He had a point. Just a little while back, the Third Platoon wouldn’t have scored a C on a mission like this—they would’ve been stuck at D or E. In light of that that, this was an impressive improvement.

But Emma had this to say: “If we all gave our best, we could’ve made A rank. Still, I understand where you’re coming from, Warrant Officer Cramer. You should be commended on your improvement.”

“Huh?!” Doug cried, gobsmacked. “You’re not mad at Larry, Commander? We almost got A rank!”

Emma sighed. “I won’t reprimand him, considering how quickly he’s started putting in a solid effort. That goes for you too, Warrant Officer Walsh. It’s impressive that you survived such a difficult mission after such a short period of time.”

Doug had more battlefield expertise than anyone else in the platoon. However, the compliment made him put his hands on his hips and frown. “I still haven’t shaken off all the rust.”

Finally free from Doug’s grip, Larry loosened his pilot suit’s collar and grinned. “Then put some more work in yourself instead of taking it all out on me.”

“I can’t believe you…” Doug raised a clenched fist, ready to smack him.

At that point, Emma clapped her hands for the Third Platoon’s attention. “That’s enough. If we’ve improved this much in such a short time, then forget A rank—we should be able to aim for S rank next time. Right, Warrant Officer Cramer?” She smiled.

That gave Larry a foreboding feeling. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“That you’ll be training with me right now so that we’re guaranteed A rank next time.”

Larry’s shoulders slumped. “You’ve got to be kidding…”

Doug crossed his arms and guffawed. “Oh, come on. I’ll join you. Let’s give it our all, Larry!”

“It’s so different from before,” Molly murmured happily as she watched the three. “Mm—hmm! It’s nice. Huh…? Wait, didn’t Colonel Baker want you for something, Emma?”

When Molly brought up her schedule, Emma gasped. “Right! I have a meeting with him at the spaceport.” Larry perked up—until she added, “We’ll have to train when I get back, then. And we’ll go for double the time if you try to skip out, okay?” She issued the warning with a sunny smile.

Larry grimaced in despair. “…Roger that, Commander.”

***

The planet Pytho lay within House Banfield’s territory. It was the second planet they’d developed after their home planet, Hydra—the first pioneer planet developed and settled in Liam’s generation.

Per House Banfield’s policies, Pytho had been developed into a planet where humanity lived in harmony with nature, just like Hydra. Thanks to its level of cultivation, Pytho alone would have constituted an impressive domain for a count; at this point, it was almost as important to House Banfield as its home planet. Some even called it House Banfield’s Second Planet, a title that reflected its status as the territory’s most vital holding after Hydra.

There was a space fortress outside Pytho to defend it. That huge fortress built into an asteroid housed over ten thousand ships, and the fleet could sortie anytime to defend the planet. The fortress also serviced and resupplied other ships belonging to House Banfield.

The light carrier Emma served with, the Melea, had been moored in that fortress for maintenance and resupply before its next mission—which would be an engineering experiment. The Melea had recently undergone upgrades to serve as an experimental engineering ship. Tests of Emma’s experimental prototype craft, the Atalanta, had already been completed, so the Melea was at Pytho to receive new experimental units. The new craft were currently being loaded aboard the ship in the spot where it was docked.

Colonel Tim Baker, the Melea’s commander, observed the operation from the corner of his eye. Despite his rank of colonel and his status as commander of a ship, he didn’t look like anything more than an unmotivated soldier. His hair was slicked back, a mustache shadowing his upper lip, and a wrinkled uniform covered his body. He appeared to be in his mid-forties, but given the universe’s antiaging technology, that likely meant he was of quite advanced years. He slouched, and his expression was devoid of spirit, as if his apathy permeated his entire being.

He yawned. “I don’t see why we couldn’t have this meeting remotely,” he grumbled. “To call us here in person, the base commander must be pretty old-fashioned.”

Next to the very un-soldierly colonel was Captain Emma Rodman—the only knight assigned to the experimental engineering ship, and an A-rank knight at that. She’d been sent to the Melea as a rookie sub-lieutenant, but she’d since become a splendid knight, rising to the position of commander of the Melea’s mobile knight contingent.

At this point, Emma had largely shaken off the timidity she’d shown when first assigned to the Melea, and she was frank with the colonel too. “We were told that the briefing would include classified data,” she pointed out. “That’s why it needs to be in person, right?”

Tim looked away from Emma’s frown, a sour expression on his own face. Before, Emma had been incompetent—she hadn’t known left from right. Now she was no less than an admirable knight. The maturity she’d developed—both outward and inward—had become a thorn in his side.

What made Emma especially troublesome was that she now had both real ability and real accomplishments to her name. Tim could threaten to charge her with insubordination, but in truth, Emma was the one with the real authority between the two of them.

Colonels like Tim generally held a higher rank than knights according to military hierarchy, but that system entailed an exception. Tim outranked her as long as things were peaceful, but if Emma judged a situation to be an emergency, she could seize command from him, and he’d be required to answer to her.

Emma had already insisted on taking command in his place once, so Tim knew just how much trouble she could cause him if she wanted to. He decided to apologize to her for now, if only for appearances. “Right. Sorry about that.”

In contrast to the colonel’s sulkiness, Emma wore a no-nonsense frown. “We’re bringing on a lot of new soldiers for our next mission, and the commander’s taking the time to see us personally for this briefing, so that’s hardly the attitude to have.”

A significant portion of the Melea’s crew had retired after their latest mission, taking the opportunity to start a new chapter of their lives, so new personnel would board the Melea here at the base. The commander was going out of his way to meet with them in person about it, which Emma saw as a gesture of good faith.

Tim had a different way of looking at it, though. “Probably just wanted to get a look at us, since we’ve had so much going on lately. No need to be grateful for that.”

“I think you have a seriously warped way of seeing things.”

“I’ve always been this way. And the Melea’s always been a goon squad. There are more Goody Two-shoes now—thanks to you, Miss Captain—but most of the crew’s always been as warped as me.”

He was referring to the holdovers from before House Banfield’s military restructuring—soldiers who’d served in the old army, not just the modern force. Back then, Tim had been highly motivated, often fighting on the front lines, but that hadn’t made him a diligent or well-mannered soldier. The Melea had been a gathering of firecrackers back in the day. It was hard for Tim to get along with Emma, since she was the overly serious type.

Emma tilted her head, putting a hand to her chin. “Colonel… What exactly is a ‘goon squad’?”

Tim hid his eyes under his hat. “How sheltered can you be?”

“Are you making fun of me? I just want to know what kind of unit a goon squad is.”

“Don’t worry about it. You don’t need to know.”

“But I’m curious!”

As the pair walked through the docking bay toward the Melea, a transport vehicle passed them, loaded with experimental mobile knights. Those were the experimental units that would soon be loaded onto the Melea, and Emma gazed at them, intrigued.

“One looks like a Nemain, but with heavier armor. The other’s… Huh? Is that a current-gen craft?”

The Atalanta and Raccoon were both classified as next-gen mobile knights. Emma hadn’t actually seen many current-gen units.

Tim was fed up with it all. Current-gen craft are outdated now, huh? Things really have changed… Before, it went without saying that we’d all use old models. No one even had current-gen machines. When he thought about the past, he couldn’t help feeling like things were way too cushy these days.

The colonel eyed the two mobile knight varieties as well. There was a set that did look like Nemains, but their bulky armor distinguished them, since the Nemain model was known for its sleek frame. If not for its distinctive head design, he’d have mistaken these for a different model.

The other craft also resembled Nemains, but they lacked the characteristic winglike components on that model’s back. They were also slimmer than Nemains, giving them a fragile appearance. Only one of them had a skirtlike component. There were three of these current-gen craft—enough to form a platoon.

“Not counting the fat ones, all mobile knights kind of look the same,” Tim mused. “Is it ’cause they all have similar designs?”

Emma apparently couldn’t let that slide—not with her passion for mobile knights. Frowning, she objected, “They’re completely different. These models do closely resemble Nemains, though. I’d guess that they came from the Third Weapons Factory.”

That made sense to Tim. “So they look similar because they were built in the same place. But why’re we getting older craft when everything else we’ve got is next-gen? Shouldn’t these engineering experiments be conducted with new stuff?” What kind of experiments could they run on current-gen units?

Emma couldn’t answer that question. “Well… I haven’t heard anything about that myself. We’ll only get documents with the details once the units are aboard, after all. But I imagine there’s a lot of classified information attached to all these units.”

Tim sighed, visibly annoyed. “More classified information means more trouble. What a pain.”

“There you go, looking annoyed again…”

As they spoke, they reached the Melea and stepped into the hangar. Mechanics bustled around inside, shouting to one another as they loaded the mobile knights.

“Clear space for the next unit before you handle that one!”

“We’ve just got to move the Raccoons first! Hurry up!”

“Keep coming, keep coming…”

The hangar was loud, but the atmosphere wasn’t tense. As he watched the mechanics, Tim reflected on the past. These guys are pretty lively now. Never thought the little lady would motivate everyone like this.

Over 40 percent of the Melea’s crew had retired, so nearly half the ship’s personnel would soon be new faces. The atmosphere aboard would inevitably change. But there were still a lot of faces among the mechanics that were familiar to Tim.

As he and Emma walked through the bay, the mechanics offered sloppy salutes. Tim couldn’t decide how he felt about the way they went right back to work afterward. Not long ago, they wouldn’t have spared him a glance, so seeing the way they acted now made him feel like he was dreaming. “Things have really changed around here… Up until a little while ago, they just sent us problem children. But now we’re like a real part of the army.”

Emma sighed quietly. “You were part of the army back then too.”

“Right… Guess we were.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but just then, Doug’s head popped out of a Raccoon’s cockpit.

The Raccoons had taken damage during their last mission; they were now being repaired with upgraded parts from the Seventh Weapons Factory. Those enhancements rendered their previous rounded appearance more jagged.

The craft’s pilots were also customizing their units to an extent, strengthening them after the bitter experience they’d suffered on their recent mission. Many had chosen to add weapon containers to their craft’s backs to broaden their potential in battle. The Raccoons lined up next to one another were the same model, but the customizations made them all look a little unique.

Doug had loaded his Raccoon with heavy armaments and fitted its head with strengthened sensors that made it look like a different mobile knight model entirely.

“Done with your meeting, Captain?” he called. “If you don’t mind, can we work on squad coordination later?”

Emma turned and saluted Tim. “If you’ll excuse me, Colonel.”

“Yeah. Good work and all that.”

She kicked off from the hangar floor, using zero gravity to drift toward Doug’s cockpit. “What’s up?”

Doug flashed Tim a grin and a salute, then turned back to Emma with a more serious expression. “That formation with us following the Atalanta never seems to work out in the simulator. Our ability to accelerate is completely different, so the standard formation’s pretty useless.” He’d been checking their squad’s coordination on the Raccoon’s simulator.

Doug had reverted to speaking casually with Emma, but it was clear that he had some respect for her now; he’d acknowledged her as his commander. Emma’s attitude toward her subordinates had changed too.

“Let’s confirm that in a live drill,” she told him. “When you actually try something out, you always learn trying something that you couldn’t in a simulation. I’d like us all to get a sense for everything in person.”

You could drill knowledge into people via education capsules, but that didn’t translate to real experience. They only mastered such knowledge when they consciously put it into practice. Unused, it faded quickly.

When Emma told him that he’d need to keep memorizing formations that might never even be useful, Doug scratched his head and sighed. At a glance, he looked annoyed—but he actually seemed a bit happy to Tim.

“Guess that’s the only way,” Doug said, then called out to the Raccoon beside him. “Hear that, Larry? You better improve enough to at least give the captain an excuse next time we train together.”

The other Raccoon’s cockpit hatch opened, and Larry poked his head out. He was drenched in enough sweat that even his hair was wet. “How many hours a day do you think I’m training now? There’s nothing more I can do!”

Doug frowned. “We’ve got time before our next drills, don’t we?”

Larry gave Doug a disgusted look. “Listen, I’m exhausted! Why aren’t you tired, anyway?”

“You don’t exactly have an abundance of stamina.”

As the three of them discussed plans for the squad, the Third Platoon’s dedicated mechanic appeared. Molly wore the same pigtails and revealing clothes as always. She was the only squad member who hadn’t changed much since their last mission.

“Do you two think you’re working a little too hard?” she asked. “If you wear yourselves out before our next mission, you’ll only get in Emma’s way.”

Doug flexed a bicep for Molly. “I’m good. I trained during my break to get the rust off. Not like Larry.”

Larry looked away. “Did you have a reason to throw me under the bus there? You just wanted to brag, right?”

“You spent your whole vacation gaming at home, didn’t you?”

“I can do whatever I want during my time off, can’t I?! I hardly ever get to go home!”

After the Atalanta’s development, and the supply mission to the Union, the Melea’s crew had been granted extended leave. Now they were back in action, and training had resumed. Everyone had been tossed into education capsules for refreshers, simply because they hadn’t done any proper training for ages. There was also the fact that over 40 percent of the crew had retired; the top brass had taken the opportunity to retrain the remaining crew as the new recruits came on.

Their last mission had sort of been a while ago; nonetheless, the Melea was finally almost prepared to get back into the field for real.

Now that they’re back from their break, they’re all hard workers, eh? Don’t like that one bit…

Tim didn’t look amused by the changes the Melea was undergoing. He was the only one who’d remained aboard the ship during his vacation. He had no home to return to—or, rather, he didn’t have a home he could return to.

Wonder what my family’s up to these days…? Think it’s been over a century since I fell out of touch with them. Pretty sure I had three grandkids… Hope they’re all still alive.

At some point, Tim had become incapable of returning home, and he’d lost contact with his family. He knew that his children had become independent and had children of their own—beyond that, he now had no idea. He didn’t even know what he’d say to his family if he tried to contact them.

Bit late now. But it’s not like me to worry about them anyway.

Tim adjusted his hat and headed for the bridge.

Chapter 1: A Bunch of Eccentrics

Chapter 1:
A Bunch of Eccentrics

THE MELEA WAS OUTFITTED with all kinds of facilities to help its crew endure long missions. One was a bar. It had been closed off while they prepared for departure, but Tim had used his authority as commanding officer to open the bar for today only.

Inside the bar, three guests sat at a table in the back: Tim, Doug, and Warrant Officer Jessica Cortes. These three representatives of the Melea’s old guard nursed their drinks together.

“Can’t believe the little lady turned you both into Goody Two-shoes like her,” Tim told the other two, sipping a strong, amber-colored liquor.

When Tim called them Goody Two-shoes, Doug and Jessica exchanged dubious glances. They must have been aware that Emma had influenced them—but they also seemed exasperated that Tim hadn’t changed.

“What are you sulking about?” Jessica asked her commander, with none of the respect his position should’ve demanded.

“I’m not sulking.” Tim looked away.

“It used to be you going around motivating us by kicking all our butts,” Doug reminisced. His expression was awkward. “Things really have changed.”

Jessica’s thoughts moved to the past as well. “That takes me back. Yeah—we used to call you ‘the demon.’ You were really fired up back then… There’s no trace of that left in you now.”

Although she was mulling over the past, Jessica looked straight at the current pathetic Tim as she spoke. She was referring to their service in the old army—at that point, the Melea’s crew had fought on the front lines, giving it their all, and Tim had been feared as a demonically passionate commander.

“Trying to get a bunch of cheeky brats to listen to me was hell,” he replied. “I don’t even have the energy to get mad these days.”

Doug and Jessica were both worried about their listless commander.

Doug scratched his head. “We might be betraying you, but…we don’t want to feel pathetic anymore, Colonel. And that captain… I kind of get the feeling she can do it, you know?”

Earlier, Doug had never shown Emma any respect, but now he didn’t even use a disparaging nickname for her behind her back.

Jessica laughed at him. “Big talk for a guy who didn’t expect anything just a little while ago.”

Doug cleared his throat affectedly before turning to look Tim straight in the eyes. “Colonel, I won’t tell you to follow her orders or anything, but could you remember your old attitude, at least a little? The Melea’s started trying to go back to the way it was. The way things were back then.”

Tim had been sipping his drink, but at that, he gulped down the rest of it. He slammed the empty glass down on the table, and Doug and Jessica fell silent.

“The way it was? The Melea’s nothing like that now. The crew back then was a bunch of hoodlums, idiots who never listened to a thing. Still, I went around kicking their asses, screaming at them to get in line…”

Jessica guessed what he was trying to say. Pouring him another drink, she interjected, “It doesn’t all have to be the same. We’re just saying that everyone’s motivated now, so you could try following their example at least a bit.”

Tim looked down at his now-full glass. “Like I could get along with all these model soldiers. I…don’t intend to acknowledge that young woman. I’m sure she’s the same as every other soldier. She can spout all the pretty words she wants, but she’d never challenge her superiors. She’s just a girl without the guts to stand up for anything.”

Tim didn’t like soldiers who acted like soldiers. Back in the days of the old army, he’d had to watch soldiers stoically carry out their superiors’ completely unreasonable orders countless times.

Tim had fought vicious battles and taken space pirates prisoner—but his superiors, and the knights in the army, had released those pirates “on the lord’s orders.” That sort of thing had happened any number of times.

He’d been disgusted with the higher-ups who shrugged off the damage the pirates would do after being freed. That was why he’d gotten rebellious—he’d been determined to do what was right, even if only he did it. He’d been called a “demon” for that; he’d fought and fought…and eventually, his spirit had broken. Tim knew that he was pathetic now, but he couldn’t imagine that fire igniting in his heart once more.

“I…hate people with no principles,” he added. “However much that girl talks about justice, I’m sure she’s just another diligent knight who’ll do whatever her superiors command. I can’t put my life in the hands of someone like that.” And a burnt-out cinder like me can’t drum up the heat you two possess now. He knew he was pathetic, but Emma couldn’t sway him into burning bright again like everyone else.

The alcohol was starting to get to him in a bad way, and he let out the true feelings he’d tried to keep hidden: “A burnt-out cinder like me should’ve been space trash or laser ash on some battlefield long ago.”

***

Now that the Melea had been reborn as an experimental engineering vessel, it had a smaller hangar. Its old layout had been full of wasted space, but new equipment and facilities for engineering experiments were installed when the ship was remodeled, eliminating those unused areas.

The empty hangar space that remained was mostly occupied by Raccoons from the Seventh Weapons Factory. These next-gen craft had a rounded and heavily armored design. They were kind of cute, so they weren’t very popular with knights; still, they were dependable, with solid specs. They were the experimental engineering ship’s reliable firepower, and the dear partners of its pilots.

At the back of the hangar was a dedicated area just for the Atalanta, which pointed to the somewhat preferential treatment the craft received. But it did deserve its spot, given that its pilot, Emma, commanded the Melea’s mobile knights.

Two new mobile knight models had now been brought into the Melea’s hangar. They were for different projects and were accompanied by personnel who would get the engineering experiments started properly aboard the Melea. These two models would be their next projects after the Atalanta. During those experiments, Emma would watch over the craft as their commander.

Emma eyed the test pilots lined up before her. “I’m Captain Emma Rodman. From this point forward, you’ll be under my command. To begin, could you please introduce yourselves?”

Behind her, the Melea’s original pilots watched, sizing up the new soldiers.

The flashiest pilot stepped forward and introduced himself. The young man spoke boldly—no, cheerily—paying no mind to the other soldiers’ appraising gazes. “Sub-Lieutenant Rick Martin, reporting! I’ll be piloting the Armored Nemain! Good to be workin’ with ya, Boss Lady!”

Emma was taken aback by Rick’s carefree introduction. “B-Boss Lady? Is that me?” she asked after a beat.

“’Course! Oh, and—despite my looks—I’m a knight myself. Graduated from the same academy as you. Guess that makes me your junior, Captain Rodman!”

Rick, who had named himself Emma’s junior, was indeed a knight, and he was tall and well-built. Still, his frivolous attitude was a far cry from what one expected of a knight.

Although the knights Emma had met up until now had definitely varied, they’d all seemed formidable. Rick was nothing of the sort, though. He even looked frivolous. His hair was dyed pink and styled in a mohawk, and he wore sunglasses too. His clothes had all sorts of non-regulation alterations as well. Was he being so lax in front of his unit commander because he was bold, or was he just an idiot?

Emma looked up at the craft he’d pilot, her head aching faintly. “Well…I’d like to say all sorts of things, but first, let’s go over the mobile knight you’re in charge of. It can be general, but give me an introduction to it, if you would.”

She was requesting this so that the Melea’s pilots and mechanics could hear the introduction too. She wanted everyone to know why these people were here on the Melea.

With a sloppy salute, Rick answered, “Roger! The Armored Nemain I’m piloting is a joint-development project between House Banfield and the Third Weapons Factory. We’re not testing the craft itself, though—just the added armor.”

Normal Nemains were sleek; Rick’s Armored Nemain had a much bulkier silhouette.

“The added armor? My documents say the craft as a whole is in development.”

Rick shook his head. “I guess they wanted to test this armor with a standard Nemain originally, but they had to modify some of the internal structure as well, so they only used the frame of a Nemain to build this.”

Emma looked up at the Armored Nemain. At a glance, she could more or less tell what the craft was like. Well, this isn’t the same thing detailed in those documents I received in advance… Is that okay? It seems like there’s a real rush to develop this. That does make me curious…

She turned to the next group of pilots—three individuals wearing matching pilot suits. This was a platoon who currently flew craft from the generation prior to the Nemain.

Emma’s gaze prompted the individual who must’ve been the platoon’s leader to step forward. The man had side-parted black hair and oval glasses. His narrow eyes gave him a permanently stern expression. He came off as strict about regulations—the polar opposite of Rick.

The man gave a salute that Emma could find no fault in. The sight was a bit of a relief. Thank goodness. This next one looks decent.

“Lieutenant Ein Kimura, commanding the Valrhona unit,” the man introduced himself.

His introduction was just as proper as Emma expected, and she nodded slightly, then asked for the details on his unit. “Lieutenant Kimura. Okay. Could you give me a quick overview of the Valrhon—”

Before she even finished, he replied, “Our squad is investigating the potential pros and cons of shifting House Banfield’s main operating units from next-gen to current-gen craft.”

He looked just as serious as before, but Emma wasn’t sure what to make of his hasty reply. Is he nervous? She cleared her throat. “Th-thank you, Lieutenant. I have some personal questions too. House Banfield’s main mobile knight is the Nemain—a next-gen craft, correct? Could you tell me why we might go back to current-gen—”

Again he interrupted. “House Banfield had their eye on the Nemain before anyone else, adopting the craft immediately as the house’s main mobile-knight model. As a result, however, they’ve had to deal with the Nemain’s high maintenance costs. This unit was formed in an effort to determine whether the house’s military expenditure could be significantly reduced with minimal detriment to its ability.”

“…I see.” Having been cut off twice, Emma understood that the serious-looking Ein was just as much of a problem child as Rick.

All eyes shifted to Molly as she waved her hand in the air excitedly, evidently curious about Ein’s explanation. She loved mobile knights, and she looked a bit giddy as she asked, “But it’s been a while since they started producing the Nemain, so it’ll be current-gen soon, don’t you think? Valrhonas will be considered outdated before long. Will it be okay to adopt them now?”

Ein’s glasses glinted at Molly’s question. He answered her with an enthusiasm that said he’d just been waiting for her to ask. “Your concerns are reasonable. However, switches between mobile-knight generations don’t take place over the span of only a few years. Plenty of noble houses’ knights still use outdated models to this day. It could take over a century for a next-gen model like the Nemain to become widespread. The question is how many nobles could put together a force that even matches the Valrhona’s abilities in a century. Even House Banfield used Moheives from who knows how many generations ago as their main force a hundred years back. In other words, even current-gen Valrhonas could still be well worth their price for another several centuries. That’s the conclusion our unit reached, anyway.”

After Ein’s explanation, Molly seemed to regret asking her question so blithely. Her excitement had completely vanished. “S-sorry, I guess.”

Despite her apology, Ein pressed on even further. “Don’t worry. I imagine others may have questions as well, so I’ll explain in more depth. Many people must be concerned that the Valrhona’s specs are inferior to the Nemain’s. That’s true, but the Valrhona is nonetheless a fantastic model. As far as current-gen craft go, it’s basically flawless. A Valrhona is easier to build and maintain than a Nemain, and it leaves nothing to be desired in terms of customization options. If modified, it can operate on an even playing field with current-gen models. In short, they’re extremely economical. Furthermore—”

Emma held up her hand to stop Ein, since it didn’t seem like the end was in sight. “That’s enough, Lieutenant Ki—”

“—we are working toward the official adoption of Valrhonas within House Banfield’s military. We appreciate your assistance. That is all,” he concluded shortly after Emma tried to stop him.

Next to Emma—who was frozen, her hand outstretched toward Ein—Rick slouched with his hands in his pockets as though disgruntled. “Guy’s a bit of a pain, huh, Boss Lady?”

Why are my new subordinates so quirky?! Emma asked herself.

“Oh—could you help out with the Armored’s simulator?” Rick asked, as if he’d just remembered. “The folks from the Third want data from multiple knights. The sooner they get it, the better, apparently.”

Mention that to us in advance, then! Emma barely kept the words to herself. Her cheek twitched as Rick scratched the back of his head with no guilt whatsoever. “You’re more than enough of a pain yourself, Sub-Lieutenant Martin!”

***

After their simulator training, the Third Platoon entered the pilots’ lounge. Emma loosened her flight suit’s collar and exhaled deeply, wiping sweat from her brow. Doug and Larry followed behind her. Larry was drenched in sweat and barely on his feet.

“You all right, Larry?” Doug sighed at him. The older man looked just as exhausted after so long in the simulator.

Larry plopped down on a couch in the lounge, reclining against its back. “Do I look all right? I was stuck in that cockpit for dozens of hours… I don’t even want to move my fingers right now.”

Doug sat down on the couch as well, sipping the drink he held through a straw. The beverage wasn’t just for hydration; it provided all the nutrients required in a day as well. It didn’t taste good, but at this point, Doug was exhausted enough to prefer it to food.

It’s strawberry flavor, Emma noted, observing the drink in Doug’s hand. She couldn’t picture the grizzled man choosing that, but he could easily have been so fatigued that he didn’t even see what he was purchasing. Based on the way he quaffed the bottle, then looked down at it and squinted, that seemed to be the case. He crushed the empty container in his fist with a wry smile, as though he’d made a mistake.

Emma watched the two men relax on the couch. She was about to address them when someone else came in.

“Nice work today, Boss Lady! And I’m really grateful for all that help in the simulator, guys! The devs say they’ll be thanking you sometime too!” It was Rick. He’d been running tests in the Armored Nemain’s simulator, but he still seemed to have plenty of energy.

Helping developers was part of the experimental engineering ship’s duties, and since this request had come from their new partners, they couldn’t exactly refuse. Emma wanted to complain a little about not having received more details beforehand, but she bottled it up. “Well, it’s part of our mission. You seem energetic, Sub-Lieutenant Martin.”

Rick was a knight like Emma, and having energy to spare—as he seemingly did—was a perk of knighthood. “Call me Rick, Boss Lady.”

Emma decided to half accept his request. “I’ll call you Sub-Lieutenant Rick. And if I may add one thing… I suggest you try to act a bit more professionally.”

To her, that seemed a natural thing to say, but Rick scratched his mohawked head at the comment. “I’m not really good at all that stuff,” he said. “’S why I’m an eternal sub-lieutenant. But I like things how they are, so I’m in no rush to move up or anything.”

When Rick said—right to her face—that he wouldn’t change his attitude, Emma sighed quietly. “That’s a shame, considering that you have the skill to serve as a test pilot.”

Rick must’ve been chosen for that role because he was capable of drawing out his craft’s full potential. With that kind of talent, he should’ve risen through the ranks.

Lifting his head, Doug agreed with what Emma had just told Rick. He must’ve been thinking about the training they’d just done in the simulator. “You really were skilled. Someone with your abilities should be going places, Sub-Lieutenant.”

Once Doug spoke up, Larry must’ve figured that he didn’t need to keep quiet either. “You were stuck in the simulator that long, and you’ve still got energy to spare? Knights really are something else. I’m jealous—us regular soldiers are zonked. You’ve got to be a first-rate knight or something, right?”

That was Larry’s evaluation after witnessing Rick’s skills in the simulator, and Emma agreed. She was curious about something else too. “It was remarkable that you pushed the Atalanta so hard,” she remarked. “Your skills really are impressive, Sub-Lieutenant…but isn’t your knight rank rather low?”

“Huh?” When Larry heard that, his eyes widened. How could such a skilled pilot be stuck at a low rank?

Listening to them, Rick smiled; he looked carefree. “It’s only natural. I’m an ace pilot, but I barely passed any of my other courses. Hmm…I wouldn’t say I’m on your level, Cap, but I think I could put up a good fight against you as a pilot. ’Course, if we just fought in person, that’d be over in a flash! Oh—I mean, I’d lose!”

As a knight, Rick Martin was good at one thing, and one thing only: piloting a mobile-knight unit. Emma peered dubiously at the cheerful man, who reminded her of how she’d been when she’d just started out. Come to think of it, I failed my piloting classes…and the rest of my grades were average.

When she looked at Rick, she couldn’t help thinking about all the areas in which she’d initially fallen short. Yet Rick himself didn’t seem to have any qualms with his shortcomings.

“Man, the Melea rocks!” he went on. “I’ve got no shortage of training partners here. And I can ask you all kinds of stuff about developing a special unit, since you’ve got experience in that, Boss Lady. This is like the perfect environment!”

The Third Platoon responded by giving him dumbfounded stares.

Just when Emma decided she should go and get changed, she got an emergency message on her tablet. When she opened it, a video began to play. She, Doug, Larry, and Rick looked up at the hologram displayed above her tablet, but it hadn’t only appeared on hers. It was on all their devices.

“A mass message?” Emma muttered as the holographic image resolved.

The woman in the hologram had gleaming blonde hair, long and straight, and gemlike green eyes. Her skin didn’t have a single blemish, and she radiated elegance. Her expression was initially listless, but it quickly hardened into a look of firm resolve.

This was Christiana Sera Rosebreia, a knight representing House Banfield and a core member of its order of knights. She was also a high-ranking member of House Banfield’s military. Emma couldn’t imagine that a mass message from her would be about anything good.

The holographic Christiana’s mouth opened slowly. “This message is for House Banfield’s entire army. The Algrand Empire is entering a large-scale conflict with the United Kingdom of Oxys.”

The beautiful woman’s sad announcement was of war.

Doug rose from his seat. “War with the United Kingdom…?” he muttered.

This wouldn’t be one of the small-scale squabbles between nobles that sometimes occurred within the Empire. Large conflicts between intergalactic nations could involve millions of ships and take decades—even centuries—to resolve. It wasn’t rare for the repercussions to influence the entire nation.

That was why House Banfield wasn’t unaffected by this news. It wasn’t all that Christiana had to say, however. “House Banfield will participate in this conflict. Central will reorganize the entire army to prepare for the war. All troops are to swiftly execute any orders received from Central… That’s all from me.”

The clip ended, and there was about half a minute of silence.

Emma was the first person to speak. “…All of a sudden, we’re at war.”

Their work as an experimental engineering ship was just about to begin, but now House Banfield’s entire army would go to war with another intergalactic nation.

Chapter 2: War

Chapter 2:
War

WARS BETWEEN MASSIVE intergalactic nations mobilized hundreds of millions of people. Millions of ships fought in such disputes. The scale of that kind of conflict was so vast that even the commanding generals couldn’t possibly grasp the full extent of things—let alone an average soldier.

In comparison, noble feuds within a single nation were smaller and easier to resolve through negotiation. Conflicts between countries were much more difficult to bring to a conclusion. They could drag on for centuries, draining both sides until they collapsed from within. And, more than once, the original cause of the war was forgotten. In those cases, it was lucky if the conflict even had a clear victor. More often than not, both nations simply ended up less powerful.

That was why, whenever possible, intergalactic powers limited their conflicts to a few skirmishes and nothing more. This particular conflict was the epitome of an exception.

The Melea’s pilots had gathered in the briefing room for the ship’s mobile-knight force. In front of a screen stood Emma, relaying the orders Central had given the pilots for the foreseeable future.

Central—that was House Banfield’s military command group back on their home planet of Hydra. They oversaw the house’s ever-expanding military. Central was composed of extremely talented personnel. Just being appointed to Central marked someone as an elite member of the military.

Now that those folks at Central had ordered her to go to war, Emma was incredibly nervous. She was in front of her subordinates, however, so she did her best to feign calm, calmly explaining their orders. “As an experimental engineering ship, the Melea will join one of House Banfield’s strike squads. We’ll be part of a fleet of a few hundred vessels, but we won’t know the unit’s full scale until we arrive on-site.”

The vagueness of this information made Lieutenant Kimura cross his arms. His expression remained blank, as usual, but Emma thought she detected a bit of irritation in it.

“Those orders are awfully nonspecific,” he said. “Can I take this to mean that Central is as confused as we are?”

Ein assumed that Central was unprepared to be sent into war like this and was scrambling to put together the army. A worried hum went through the other gathered pilots. If they were a force being scraped together just to reach a certain number, then there was no telling how they’d be treated on the battlefield.

In the face of her troops’ anxiety, Emma took a deliberately cold tone. “I couldn’t say. Please refrain from speculation, Lieutenant Kimura.”

Ein pushed his glasses up with his middle finger, giving Emma an appraising look. “My apologies, Captain,” he said after a beat.

Next to Ein, Rick leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped behind his head. He tilted the chair, balancing it deftly at a diagonal slant. “More to the point,” he piped up, “we’re an experimental unit—not an actual fighting force. Right? Can’t believe they’re throwing us into real battle like this.” That was a rather pessimistic take—but he had a point.

Emma gave Rick a sharp look. “The Melea is fully capable of participating in a real conflict if that’s judged to be necessary. I believe the Armored Nemain’s development team agrees about that as well, don’t they?” The development team assigned to the Melea had been informed of the ship’s combat readiness before they signed on.

Rick scratched his cheek awkwardly. “I imagine they were anticipating small-scale tiffs with space pirates, not all-out war. No one could’ve planned for this.”

Emma agreed with him, even if she couldn’t say that. I wasn’t expecting this either! Now that we’ve been ordered to fight, though, it’s not like we can refuse. She maintained her harsh attitude, keeping her true thoughts to herself. “If we could always see what was coming in the future, no one would have any trouble.”

Rick clapped vigorously, as though he’d really enjoyed Emma’s comeback. “You got that right, Boss Lady! You got me there!”

His cheerful attitude seemed to exasperate the other pilots. Larry, who already had a bone to pick with him—or rather, with knights—raised his hand, requesting permission to speak. “Can I ask something, Commander?”

“Yes, Warrant Officer Cramer?”

“I get that we’re joining a strike squad,” he said, “but who will actually be commanding it? I’d like to look into that a little…since I don’t want to die and all.”

All of the pilots in the briefing room turned to look at Emma. They must have all been wondering the same thing.

Emma took several seconds to answer the question, and the reason for that was simple. “…I don’t know.” They hadn’t yet received any command details from Central.

Ein leaped on her answer. “Another unknown. It’s like they’re just throwing us onto the battlefield with no information at all.”

Emma raised her voice, abandoning her calm to state clearly to her subordinates, “We were ordered to show up, and given no other details, okay?! Do you think I didn’t ask for more information?! All Central told me was to await further orders on-site!”

When she lost her cool, the Melea’s pilots raised their voices to match her.

“Are you kidding?! You’re the commander, aren’t you?! Can’t you do better than that?!”

“I knew it was too soon for you to take this position, kid!”

“Can’t say I’m all that confident under our current commander…”

They were saying whatever they wanted about her.

“Quiet!” Emma barked at them. “All we can do for now is carry out Central’s orders. Everyone make sure that your mobile knights are ready to deploy. That’s all!”

When she shut down the meeting, Ein’s Valrhona team all stood. Ein was giving Emma a harsh look. “I heard that you were a talented knight who’d produced results, but it seems that the real thing never lives up to the rumors.”

Another of the Valrhona team’s pilots turned to Ein, his commander. “We’re still in the middle of testing, Commander. Could we refuse to participate?”

“If we sink with this ship, all our precious data will go to waste,” another pilot added.

Ein shook his head. “Even if we could refuse to participate, we can’t leave the ship. And if we’re on the battlefield, we can’t just sit there and watch.” He seemingly possessed at least some sense of responsibility as a soldier. The gaze he directed at Emma didn’t grow any less sharp, though. “That said, we’ll make our own judgments on the battlefield. As you are now, Captain, I don’t think we could bring ourselves to fight under your command.”

The Valrhona team left the briefing room, making sure they told Emma all their complaints before exiting. The Melea’s pilots didn’t look much happier.

“They’re pretty cocky for newbies.”

“Who’d even want their outdated units on the field?”

“Their excuses certainly pass muster, if nothing else.”

Ein’s unit had evidently rubbed them the wrong way.

Then Rick stood. “Uh…sorry, Boss Lady. My Armored Nemain is mid-tune-up right now. I’m not sure I can deploy right away, so if it’s okay with you…I’ll just get going too!”

He left the briefing room as if fleeing. The pilots originally assigned to the Melea could only watch him go, exasperated by his poor excuse.

The attitude of the new recruits she’d been assigned made Emma’s cheek twitch. They would’ve been a big problem in a normal unit, and hers was an experimental engineering ship. Since the mobile knights they piloted were only here for testing, the chain of command was somewhat complicated; she couldn’t just order them around.

The Third Weapons Factory had dispatched staff members to the Melea to work on the Armored Nemain. They weren’t part of House Banfield’s army, so Emma couldn’t order them into battle. Even if they’d already accepted the fact that the Melea might be facing combat, Emma would still have to contact the Third Weapons Factory about involving their personnel in something like this. And even if the Third Weapons Factory granted their permission, they’d probably instruct Emma to make their employees’ safety her top priority.

All in all, the nature of their unit put Emma in a rather complex position.

After the briefing finished, Doug sighed, resting his chin on his hand. “Not many people around here have wartime experience. It’s only natural those guys would find Central’s orders suspicious, but it’s just what happens with a conflict of this scale.”

Since the briefing had wrapped up, Emma cocked her head and asked Doug, “Do you have that experience?”

“It was a long time ago, but yeah,” said Doug. “We were ordered to deploy, but luckily, we managed to avoid battle.”

The veterans nearby nodded nostalgically at Doug’s words, presumably thinking back to that time.

“There was crazy fighting really close to us,” one said. “But nobody touched us.”

“Who knows why they even sent us there?”

“The scale of the conflict was so massive that the top brass couldn’t even keep track of everything. Actually, I remember both our allies’ and our enemies’ commanders being amateurs, so that war was total chaos.”

Larry pressed a hand to his forehead. “What the heck? Is war really that haphazard?”

Doug stood and put his hands on his hips, stretching. “Well, it depends who’s in charge. But when the scale’s big enough, there’s no way to keep track of everything. If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to come back without even seeing combat.”

When Larry heard that, he relaxed a bit. He must’ve found some hope in what Doug was saying. “What—so I was nervous for nothing?”

“No, you idiot.” Doug and the other veterans scowled at Larry for letting his guard down. “If we’re unlucky, we’ll be sent straight into the fighting, and everyone here will go to their death. On top of that, this war will last anywhere from years to decades, depending on the scale. War’s a huge pain. Are you confident your luck could last decades, Larry?”

There wasn’t a good chance that they’d all be lucky enough to survive that long, and Larry shook his head as his face paled with fear again.

All Emma could do was worry about their future as they were sent off to war. It’s my first time experiencing a conflict this size. I’ll have to do my best to ensure all my men make it out alive.

***

In space, ships lined up in front of a long-distance warp gate. They were House Banfield’s forces, en route to the war with the United Kingdom of Oxys. Among them, the Melea floated, waiting its turn.

On the bridge, Colonel Tim Baker yawned. “Our lord’s sure a warmonger, huh? Makes me sick. If he stayed in the rear, I could at least call him a coward. And I guess it’s a problem that he goes where he doesn’t belong too.”

Unfortunately, House Banfield’s current lord was a powerful warrior—one who’d already produced results on the battlefield many times over.

With a wan smile, Tim reflected, Guess that little lady couldn’t do anything but listen to Central’s orders… Well, it’d be pointless to hope for any more than that. What’d I expect from a Goody Two-shoes like her?

An operator turned to glance at Tim, confused. “Colonel, a small vessel is requesting permission to board the Melea.”

“What idiot wants to board now?” He pushed off from his seat on the zero-gravity bridge, using the momentum to drift over to the operator. “Have we got a lost child out there looking for help?”

After a short exchange with the small vessel, the operator’s eyes widened. “We’re apparently supposed to receive someone dispatched by Central Command.”

“Central Command?” Tim checked the order himself to verify the operator’s claim. “How come they’re suddenly sending us someone new now?”

The operator couldn’t answer that, of course. “I’d like to know too.”

With no choice but to accept an order from Central Command, Tim had the hangar prepare to receive the small vessel. “Well, let the ship in. And be sure to tell our guys not to be rude to our visitor. Now, just who have they saddled us w—”

Tim checked the name of their guest and saw that it was “Alison Baker.” Her rank was captain. The colonel wouldn’t have been so surprised if she had just shared his last name, but in her picture, she looked exactly like his wife. Checking the data he had on Alison Baker, he saw that her father’s name was the same as his grandson’s.

“No way… There’s no way… Right?”

Yet he was sure of it. He took off his hat and mopped his brow.

Captain Alison Baker…was his great-granddaughter.

Chapter 3: Alison Baker

Chapter 3:
Alison Baker

“I’M CAPTAIN ALISON BAKER. Central Command dispatched me to the Melea. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Alison executed a textbook-perfect salute.

All the Melea’s important crew members had gathered on the bridge, including Emma, since she commanded the ship’s mobile-knight unit.

Alison had apparently been assigned to the Melea’s bridge, though her exact responsibilities were somewhat vague. Central Command had given her the role of “inspector,” but many of the crew members were unsure exactly what that entailed.

Deciding that someone ought to ask, Emma stepped forward. “Um, may I ask a question?” She raised her hand timidly.

Alison’s gaze flicked over to her. “Captain Emma Rodman, right? Feel free.” She nodded.

The woman’s tone was light and friendly, but Emma couldn’t help feeling that there was a wall around Alison, and that she wouldn’t be letting anyone through it.

“What exactly will you be ‘inspecting,’ ma’am?” Emma asked. “The mobile-knight unit?”

Alison smiled. The expression was mocking, as though she was looking down on their ignorance. “Everything, Captain. Everything.”

“Everything?”

“This unit,” Alison continued, “once belonged to the border region security force, where the military sent people it had no other use for, didn’t it? Its crew has low morale and lacks training, and was reportedly rather passive during the Melea’s last operation. Yet it’s favored with special mobile knights and cutting-edge craft. Central Command has determined that that can no longer be ignored, so they sent me.”

At that point, Emma realized why Alison was there. “You’re a watchdog.” Her eyes widened as she recognized that Alison’s presence stemmed from the fact that Central Command didn’t trust them.

As she answered Emma’s question, Alison also made her position clear to everyone else aboard the Melea. “Observing you is part of my mission, but my real role is to ensure that you follow Central Command’s orders. You could say I’m your provisional commander.”

A buzz went through the crowd at that. Everyone’s eyes turned to Tim, who hadn’t yet said anything.

Alison raised her voice as she continued, looking a bit annoyed. “My orders are Central Command’s orders. I will not allow you to disobey them. Forget rank—you’ll be under my command from now on.”

She glared at everyone, giving Emma the sense that Alison felt they were her inferiors. That didn’t sit right with Emma, so she brought up Alison’s rank. “But a captain can’t command an entire ship. You aren’t even a knight, are you, Captain Baker?”

Unless a captain possessed a knight’s special privileges, it would be impossible for them to command a vessel like the Melea.

Alison sighed and gave Emma a pitying look. “I knew that you were ignorant of military matters out here, but I didn’t think it would be this bad.”

“Huh? But at your rank, you can’t have enough experience to command a ship, can you?” Emma wasn’t backing down.

Alison looked down her nose at her. “Captain Rodman… Unlike the rest of you, I’m in the running for a top position at Central. And my rank in the Imperial Army was lieutenant.”

When she said that, another buzz went through the crowd.

Molly didn’t know what that meant, though. “Hey, is that a big deal?” she asked Doug.

“Well, it means she’s a genuine elite, I guess,” Doug replied. “A lieutenant in the Imperial Army is roughly equivalent to a major in a private army.”

Although Alison could clearly hear their conversation, her eyes were still locked on Emma. “You’re right, Captain Rodman. I’m the same rank as you right now. But my promotion to major is guaranteed—and, unlike you, I’m stationed at Central. I got where I am through more than mere luck, which is more than you can say.”

“St-still, I don’t think that qualifies you…”

“The military holds a different level of trust for the captain of a crew of rejects than for one serving Central Command. I’ve explained things very thoroughly now, so I do hope you’re starting to understand.”

At that point, Emma recognized the nature of the wall around Alison. It’s the pride of an elite soldier stationed at Central.

Being dispatched to the Melea on her path to promotion must not have sat right with Alison. At the same time, if she’d received a personal assignment like this, that proved that they expected a lot from her. So she seemed motivated in terms of her mission—yet simultaneously looked down on the Melea and its crew.

As the atmosphere grew more and more strained, Doug broached the question on everyone’s mind. “We’ve got another troublesome elite to deal with, eh? Anyway, if your name’s Baker…”

At these words, everyone focused on Tim once more. They looked between the colonel and Alison, who appeared equally uncomfortable.

Alison spoke first. “I see no reason to hide it: The colonel is my great-grandfather.”

The whole room looked shocked now.

“You have a family, Colonel?!” Emma asked Tim.

“…Yeah.”

The crew was fascinated by this news.

“They sent us your great-granddaughter?”

“You could’ve said something, Colonel. That’s cold of you!”

“Looks like your great-granddaughter’s a real bigshot, Colonel!”

The prickly mood earlier disappeared; the bridge shifted to welcoming Alison with open arms. Alison herself, however, evidently had no intention of opening up to anyone here. She wasn’t just being professional; she looked down on the Melea as a unit and wanted nothing to do with them.

“He and I may share blood, but we’re strangers,” she said. “I’ve never even met the colonel before. So please don’t consider our relationship one that extends beyond paperwork, and don’t harp on matters of lineage during the mission.”

She had no fondness for Tim as a relative; right now, Alison was still nothing more than a troublesome guest Central Command had dispatched. Tim must have had his own complicated feelings on the matter; he hadn’t objected once, regardless of what Alison said.

Emma spoke up instead. “Don’t you think that’s a little rude to the colonel, Captain Baker? You’re the one harping on a matter of lineage, aren’t you?”

Now Alison looked openly hostile. “It’s ludicrous that you think you can bring up propriety, considering how your unit has acted. During this mission, you ought to take the time to carefully consider why I was assigned here. Don’t think for a second that I wanted to be sent to this joke of a unit.”

Everyone grimaced at Alison’s attitude, and Emma couldn’t remain silent. “You can’t talk about us that way. We’re—”

Alison cut her off, obviously not intending to listen. “For whatever reason, Captain Rodman, Central seems to have an eye on you. Our regular offensive units are what really matters to them, though. There’s a reason you’re only joining a strike squad, not the army’s main force.”

Having boarded the Melea alone,Alison was thrusting the reality of the situation at its crew.

***

When Alison, Emma, and most of the crew had left the bridge, Doug remained to speak with Tim.

“Looks like you’ve got quite a great-granddaughter,” he said. “The rank she’s held at her age is one thing, but her being stationed at Central makes her an elite among elites.”

Alison was evidently a genius heading straight down a rarefied track, and despite her young age, she was already a captain.

Tim put a hand to his forehead, thinking back to the attitude she had just displayed. “My great-granddaughter is some puffed-up snob? Must be some kind of joke…” He would never have imagined that his descendant would be a VIP who ended up dispatched to the Melea of all places.

Doug was giving him a complicated look. “What’s the story with your family, Colonel?”

“…I haven’t been home in centuries. Haven’t received divorce papers yet, though, since I kept sending my pay their way.”

Tim’s tone was joking; still, Doug was concerned. “If you’ve got family, you should probably go back to see them at least once.”

“After all this time, what would I even say to them? It’s like the kid said; we’re strangers who share blood, that’s all. A guy like me going back to them now would just cause them problems.”

Tim pulled his hat down over his eyes. He clearly didn’t want to continue the conversation further.

Chapter 4: The Dahlia Mercenaries’ Enhanced Soldier

Chapter 4:
The Dahlia Mercenaries’ Enhanced Soldier

THE WOMAN AWOKE SUSPENDED in a capsule full of liquid. She wasn’t in distress; the oxygen in that fluid filled her lungs, and she found that, if she tried, she could move her arms and legs effortlessly.

As the woman—Nathan—realized that she was alive, tepid despair filled her. I couldn’t die this time either…

She thought back to her fight with the Imperial knight. That glowing mobile knight wielding dual pistols had been so strange. When she lost to the unit, Nathan’s craft had self-destructed with her aboard; she should’ve been reduced to space dust. She had no idea how she’d survived.

At the moment Nathan regained consciousness, someone entered the room containing her capsule, medical staff in tow. It was a woman with silver hair; she gave an order, and the fluid in the capsule began to drain.

Inside the capsule, Nathan sank to a sitting position and lifted her head, looking up into green eyes much like her own. The capsule’s hatch opened, and the silver-haired woman addressed her.

“Theta YA 0891…” The woman smirked. “The Union gives you boring names, huh?”

Since the silver-haired woman knew her ID number, she might be Nathan’s superior. From the way that she spoke, though, she certainly didn’t seem like one of the Union’s troops.

Naked inside the capsule, Nathan felt wary of the woman. “You aren’t a Union soldier, are you? What exactly are you after, capturing and resuscitating me like this?”

To go to the trouble of reviving Nathan after an explosion that should’ve killed her, the woman must have had some goal in mind. Instead of answering Nathan’s question, however, the woman tossed her a terrycloth bathrobe.

“I’m Sirena, Miss Enhanced Soldier,” she said. “Commander of the Dahlia Mercenaries.”

Nathan pulled on the bathrobe, still leery. “Why did you save me? I wanted to rest.”

“I wouldn’t call dying very restful. It’s better to enjoy your life while you have it, don’t you think?”

Nathan had no idea how to respond to that. “What do you want from me?”

“I was flying back from a job, and I just happened to spot you in your sorry state, so I helped you out.”

When she heard that she’d been rescued from floating wreckage, Nathan wasn’t sure what to think. Most people would consider that lucky, but not me… Being rescued from the depths of space was practically a miracle—yet it was only a burden to Nathan. Still, she supposed she should at least thank her rescuer. “I apologize for my rudeness, since you went out of your way to save me.”

“No worries. I was interested in rescuing an ace pilot from the Union, you see.”

When Nathan heard “ace pilot,” she knew that this woman had detailed information about her. “Does saving me have something to do with your work?” Sirena had said that she commanded mercenaries, Nathan remembered, surmising that the woman wanted Nathan to do something for her.

Sirena smiled. “Looks like your brain’s awake now too.”

Nathan connected the dots. Mercenaries don’t rescue people out of philanthropy. They probably wanted to salvage my humanoid weapon and sell it for parts. They might’ve been looking for usable parts in the wreckage of her craft, then found her; she assumed that was what had happened.

Sirena held out her hand to Nathan. “The Dahlia Mercenaries took a pretty serious beating recently, so I’m short on manpower right now. How about joining my group?”

Nathan didn’t take her hand. “In other words, you want me to work off my medical fees?”

“Well, there’s that. But you don’t exactly have a home to return to now either. The Union Army apparently believes you’re dead. Even if you went back to them, you’d only end up fighting for them until you really were killed.”

“Serving as a mercenary wouldn’t be any different.” Nathan figured Sirena was aiming to get as much use out of her as she could—just like the Union.

“Not so.” Sirena said. “Mercenaries fight for themselves. It’s stupid to be bound by things like loyalty and patriotism, don’t you think?”

When Sirena urged her to fight for her own sake, Nathan didn’t know how to react. Still, just as Sirena said, it wasn’t like she had a home to return to. She took the woman’s hand.

“I’m a pilot,” she said. “Don’t expect me to do anything beyond that.”

“I’ll expect a lot of your piloting, then. Oh…and we don’t call each other by numbers around here. Don’t you have a name?”

Climbing out of the capsule with her back to Sirena, Nathan replied, “Nathan… That’s what my comrades called me.”

***

Some time after Sirena and Nathan met, the mercenaries and arms dealers who would profit from the Empire’s war with the United Kingdom gathered in the star system that would serve as the nations’ battleground. Under Sirena’s command, the Dahlia Mercenaries would participate in this conflict as well.

Huge sums of money were spent in large-scale conflicts between intergalactic nations. And although the people of this universe made use of helpful AI, they disliked the technology, so most of that money ended up in human hands. It went not just to mercenaries and arms dealers but even to organizations that entertained soldiers.

Rather than sitting in her captain’s chair, Sirena stood on the bridge of the Dahlia Mercenaries’ flagship. She grinned at the display on the monitor before her.

“The profits from a war this big will last us a decade at least,” she told a bored-looking woman standing beside her. The woman wore an oversized jacket over a pilot suit as if that were a casual outfit, her hands plunged into her pockets.

To Sirena, Nathan looked annoyed by everything. Still, she was fond of the girl, and she’d made Nathan her adjutant.

“This is peak season for us, then.” Although she sounded uninterested, Nathan nevertheless responded to Sirena in order to show that she was listening.

“Thanks to those stupid nobles and intergalactic nations,” Sirena said. “Who do you think will win this one?”

She was enjoying talking to Nathan. She hadn’t just made Nathan her adjutant because she liked her; it was also because she had the skills to assume the role. After all, Nathan was one of the Union’s enhanced soldiers—and even among them, she was talented enough to have become an ace.

Nathan pondered the question for a few seconds before responding readily, “The Empire has numerical superiority, but the United Kingdom’s morale is higher. And then there’s the fact that the Empire’s supreme commander, the third prince, is locked in a succession battle with the first. We have intel that the third prince possesses hardly any battlefield experience. On the other hand, the United Kingdom’s supreme commander is talented enough to have become the youngest general in the nation’s history… Considering all that, there’s a good chance the United Kingdom will win.”

Sirena applauded Nathan’s display of logic. “Excellent. I reached the same conclusion. Taking all that into account, who should we side with?”

“The winning side,” Nathan responded, sounding confused. “The United Kingdom.”

Sirena shrugged. “Wrong. In a conflict this size, we’d never pick just one side. We’re mercenaries, so we’ll support whoever pays us a big sum, then just skip the losing battles.”

Nathan nodded slightly as she digested Sirena’s response. “You presented it as a choice between two options, but there was a third choice. That wasn’t very nice.”

“Mercenaries can’t be nice.”

Nathan was talented, but she’d spent so long in the military that she had trouble thinking like a mercenary. Another reason Sirena kept her by her side was to keep showing her the ropes. She didn’t just enjoy conversation with her.

Just as they finished talking, one of the operators on the bridge turned around, looking tense. “Commander Sirena, we’ve figured out who will really command the Empire’s forces.”

Third Prince Cleo was only nominally the supreme commander. A general or knight serving as his “aide” would really lead their forces on the battlefield. There had been plenty of rumors and unsubstantiated intel about who that might be, but they hadn’t yet gotten to the bottom of it.

Sirena had to act confident in front of her subordinates, but the operator’s apparently anxious reaction made her curious. “Who is it?”

“A knight from House Banfield—Claus Sera Mont!”

The crew on the bridge reacted in one of two ways to hearing that. Some looked astonished, while others cocked their heads, not recognizing the name. A famous knight or general usually served as the supreme commander’s “aide” in wars like these, so they couldn’t believe that an unknown knight was serving as Cleo’s aide. Sirena had the former reaction. Her eyes went wide, if only for a second; then she scowled.

Nathan sensed something personal in that reaction. “From your expression, I’m guessing that you know this commander. Is he strong…?”

Sirena answered bitterly, “I told you that we got badly beaten a little while ago, right?”

“Yeah. You said you were having trouble getting this group back to its former strength.”

“It was Claus Sera Mont who beat us.”

“…I see.”

“I did some investigating after the fact and found out that he was responsible. He commanded a much smaller force back then, but… I gather he’s climbed all this way in the short time since then.”

When Sirena’s mercenaries attacked the Seventh Weapons Factory, they’d taken heavy losses fighting Claus. His enemies, even his allies, might underestimate the unknown knight, but Sirena knew how dangerous he was.

“He’s not just some incompetent, at the bare minimum. That said, who knows whether he’ll have any skill commanding a force this large?”

To command a fleet of millions of ships, neither talent, experience, nor luck alone was enough. Only with all three, and the right environment, could a mere handful of people pull off such a thing. Plenty of knights and generals could command thousands of ships easily but couldn’t handle millions.

Sirena had no idea whether Claus was one of the few who could manage that feat, but she didn’t consider him someone she could shrug off.

“Just don’t underestimate him. Act on the assumption that the Empire has a talented commander at the helm.”

“Understood.” Nathan nodded. “Since you’re this emphatic, I’m sure he warrants some caution.”

Chapter 5: The Strike Squad

Chapter 5:
The Strike Squad

THE PAROS STAR SYSTEM—Imperial territory—had been chosen as the battlefield for the war between the Algrand Empire and the United Kingdom of Oxys. A battlefield on which millions of ships would fight was vast. It was difficult even to locate other ships, enemy or ally, if you didn’t know where to look.

Forces from both the Empire and the United Kingdom had already entered the system, and fighting could begin at any moment.

The Empire’s supreme commander was on the bridge of the enormous vessel that had been designated the force’s flagship. This ship was the Vár, a three-thousand-meter superdreadnought that belonged to House Banfield. Naturally, the vessel was in part selected because it was suitable for commanding such a grand force; however, it was also chosen as a nod to House Banfield’s support of the third prince.

The ship was a superdreadnought, and the Third Weapons Factory had crafted it with their pride on the line. Even compared to similar vessels elsewhere in the Empire, it boasted superior specs, so no one criticized its selection as flagship.

On the Vár’s bridge, Cleo Noah Albareto—the Empire’s third prince, and the supreme commander of its force against the United Kingdom—sat in a luxurious seat. It wasn’t merely a chair, but a sophisticated piece of equipment designed to turn into a small escape vessel if necessary to protect the prince’s life.

Cleo had red hair, a delicate frame, and androgynous looks. It was obvious at a glance how important he was, since he was surrounded by top-tier knights dispatched from House Banfield, as well as soldiers serving as his aides-de-camp. Even if Cleo did have a natural charisma, though, he exhibited none of the zeal or gravitas of a skilled military leader. He was the commander in name only—a figurehead and nothing more.

Cleo had only brought a single knight with him: Lysithea Noah Albareto. She was his sister, born of the same mother, and the two had been raised together from a young age. Lysithea belonged to the royal bloodline herself, yet she’d given up her right to the throne and become a knight to protect the brother who’d been saddled with the role of third prince. Her abilities as a knight weren’t impressive, but she desired from the bottom of her heart to protect Cleo. Cleo saw her not only as his sister, but also as the one knight he could truly trust.

Lysithea was airing her grievances against the knights and military officers on the Vár’s bridge. “We can’t even get Sir Claus, the supreme commander’s proxy, to brief us. And issuing commands without your input is a complete breach of etiquette! I understand that it’s just ceremonial, but you’re the actual supreme commander.”

Lysithea’s complaints stemmed from how Cleo had been treated. Though her brother was only a figurehead commander, she at least wanted him to sign off on the strategies the army would implement.

Cleo himself didn’t seem particularly bothered by any of this. “Rather than making the real commander worry over my mood, I’d rather let him focus on performing his duty. Besides, Sister, even if we do hear their plans, it’s not as though our opinions will be worth anything.”

Neither Cleo nor Lysithea had ever experienced a war of this magnitude before. They had none of the knowledge required to give any real input on their army’s strategies, so Cleo felt that they should simply stay quiet.

“But there’s your position to consider, isn’t there?” Lysithea insisted. “Even rumors that our army doesn’t take you seriously would serve as ammunition for our opposition.”

She was overreacting, but Cleo’s blasé attitude could have been just as problematic. In these particular circumstances, of course, staying quiet was likely the better choice.

Christiana—Claus’s appointed adjutant—listened to this conversation, her own aides beside her. She shrugged her shoulders.

One of her aides, Claudia Beltran, reacted with a small sigh. “Princess Lysithea seemingly wants her brother to somehow make his mark on this war, but unnecessary meddling will only render our jobs harder. Should I ask them to leave?”

Claudia was the female knight who’d been Emma’s instructor. She was talented enough to serve as Christiana’s right-hand woman, and she would participate in this war as well, taking a support position. Lysithea’s complaints were nothing but an annoyance to her. The other aides appeared to feel largely the same way: Even knowing that Lysithea was a princess, they didn’t want her interference to affect the outcome of the war.

Christiana smiled at her aides’ reactions.

“This much is harmless,” she replied. “And this is a good opportunity for those two to gain wartime experience. We’re the ones who will really have to focus here.”

She was gazing intently at this operation’s real commander, Claus, who sat behind them in a spot they had to look up to see.

The head of House Banfield had named Claus the acting supreme commander, entrusting him with everything. Now Claus sat there expressionlessly, not looking at all nervous about the thought of such a huge conflict.

Claudia and the other aides looked up at him bitterly. The fact that Liam had appointed Claus personally to this position meant that, in Liam’s mind, Claus was House Banfield’s most talented knight.

Christiana looked away from Claus, toward the bow of the Vár. “This war is complicated, since it involves the succession dispute.”

While this was a conflict with the United Kingdom of Oxys, it was also a contest that could affect Imperial succession. Thus, one couldn’t have described the Empire’s forces as completely united. Those belonging to House Banfield were almost certain that the opposing faction would try to impede them somehow as they fought. They’d have to be wary not just of their enemies but of allies as well, so they’d be waging a harrowing fight.

“I’m going to need all your help,” Christiana told her aides.

As she spoke, a cylinder of light emerged from the floor and enveloped her. Information flowed through the light, and Christiana read it instantaneously; as soon as she did so, she began making decisions and issuing orders. To an ordinary person, it might’ve looked like Christiana was glowing with light as she cast some kind of spell; however, she was simply processing information at an extremely rapid pace.

Around her, her aides stood in their own pillars of light, processing their own data, although none could handle the quantity of information Christiana could. Claudia and the other aides weren’t doing anything more than supporting her. All they could do was support her.

Her processing speed is astronomical, as always, Claudia mused. She’s better at this than an AI would be. Among those people who obtained superhuman power through knight training, a rare few outshone the already-outstanding pack. Christiana was one of them.

These knights were skillfully managing data on millions of ships—a feat only AI should have been capable of.

In the pillar of light, Christiana smiled. “Now, let’s get started…”

***

Meanwhile, the Melea rendezvoused with the strike squad.

Emma was in a remote meeting with commanders of the fleet’s other mobile-knight units. As she spoke to their three-dimensional torsos in the communications room, however, she wasn’t sure what to do with the information she received.

“We’re the only knights in the fleet? That’s far too few.”

This was a temporary force, so the highest-ranked individual—the one who’d oversee all the mobile-knight units—was a lieutenant colonel. “I understand where you’re coming from, but it’s lucky if there’s even one A-rank knight in a scraped-together squad like this. I asked my higher-ups about it myself, but they said we’d be fine, since we had you.” The lieutenant colonel smiled wryly, evidently somewhat doubtful that Emma had that much value. “I’d feel a bit more at ease if we had at least one company of knight pilots… But they just said I was asking for too much, since I’d already have a medaled knight in my squad.”

“You can’t expect me to do the work of a whole company…”

Emma had earned that medal for her accomplishments on their mission to the Union. During one sortie, she’d taken out twenty enemy units piloted by knights. That meant she was capable of doing the work of an entire company all on her own, so Central Command had told the strike squad commander to make do with her.

“Well, the higher-ups don’t feel that way. Seems they expect a lot of you.”

“I’m honored…”

“I look forward to seeing what you can do.”

The meeting and call ended, and Emma sighed to herself. “I heard that we were short on knights, but I didn’t think things were this bad,” she groaned. “I’m not equal to a whole company on my own…” She was happy to hear that they had expectations for her, but those expectations seemed excessive. “If we could at least have a company…no, at least a platoon…I’d feel a lot better.”

She knew that would be asking a lot, but she couldn’t help voicing the wish. After all, it wasn’t just her own life on the line, but her subordinates’ lives as well. They could implement a lot more strategies with a platoon of knights.

Even if Emma was theoretically capable of performing on par with a whole company, she was still only one person, and the Atalanta was only one machine. If she couldn’t sortie for some reason, it would reduce the force’s strength significantly.

Emma ran over the situation once more to herself. “A fleet of three hundred ships, and the only knights are me and Sub-Lieutenant Rick…and that basically means only me, right? This is too much to handle all on my own…”

After whining to herself all alone in the communications room, Emma took a deep breath to calm down, then left the room. When she did, she saw Alison emerge from a different communications room. Since Central had dispatched her as an inspector, maybe she’d been speaking to her direct superior.

When she saw Emma, Alison gave her a goading smile. “It doesn’t look like you had a very good meeting.”

She was acting as though she found Emma’s feelings glaringly obvious, and she was right on the money. Emma could only nod in affirmation. “Sub-Lieutenant Rick and I are the only knights in this fleet. That’s too few, even if it’s just a temporary arrangement. The lieutenant colonel commanding the mobile knight force agrees, but it doesn’t seem like we can expect additional forces.”

Alison wasn’t surprised to hear this. In fact, she shrugged as if ridiculing Emma. “For a medaled knight, you’re terrible at negotiating.”

“…The lieutenant colonel commands the force. I’m not in a position to negotiate with Central Command.” Figuring that the conversation was over, Emma started walking away.

Alison kept pace beside her, though. “That’s your problem,” she said. “If you don’t reach out for things you want when you have a chance, do you think they’ll just fall into your lap?”

“What are you trying to say?” Emma stopped.

Alison stopped alongside her. Irritated, she replied, “In your shoes, I would’ve left this unit of screwups. I’d be a major in a proper fleet by now.”

“Screwups?” Emma’s eyes blazed. “Are you mocking us?”

Alison didn’t back down. “Your morale seems high, considering that you serve somewhere troublemakers get sent, but you’re still not part of the core military. No one here is trying to get anywhere. You don’t even understand the position you’re in.”

“I’m doing the best I ca—”

Before Emma could finish her rebuttal, Alison added, “I petitioned to have three mobile knight platoons sent to our squad.”

“Huh?”

“All with knight pilots, of course.” She grinned as if to say, “Even if you couldn’t do it, I could.”

“B-but the lieutenant colonel said that his request for more knights got turned down.”

“That just means he didn’t have what it takes—unlike me. I got three platoons sent to this squad. And what is it that you’re doing, exactly?”

“I-I…”

Alison put a hand on her hip and frowned. “This is a war zone now—a place where people who prioritize ‘what’s right,’ without making what moves they can, will just become space junk. If you ask me, you’re not putting in any effort at all—although I bet, if you tried, you could get a company of knights out here yourself.” She’d said everything she had to say, and she turned around and began to walk off.

Emma couldn’t believe what she’d heard. “I-I don’t have that kind of authority, okay?!”

Alison just strode away, saying nothing in return.

***

On the Melea’s bridge, Tim was speaking to the strike squad’s commander. “You’re putting our ship in the vanguard? Sounds like you don’t understand that we’re an experimental engineering ship.”

Despite Tim’s protests over the Melea’s position, the commander wasn’t changing his mind. “The Melea was upgraded recently, and now it has better specs than most of the regular army’s battleships. Plus, you’ve got that A-rank knight, don’t you?”

When Tim realized that Emma was the reason they’d be placed in the vanguard, he cursed her internally. That girl’s getting us sent somewhere dangerous again? She’s one hell of a bad-luck charm.

The commander gave the aggravated Tim a harsh look. “You seem displeased. If you refuse to comply with my orders, then—”

At that point, Alison returned to the bridge and took over for Tim; she’d grasped what was unfolding as soon as she arrived. “Sorry I’m late, sir. I understand the situation. Commander, the Melea will carry out your orders, so there won’t be an issue.”

The commander gave Alison a dubious look, but his adjutant whispered to him, explaining what he needed to know about her. After that, he seemed to accept her words. And although she’d barged into the conversation without warning, he was more cordial with her than he had been with Tim. The reason for that was exactly what had made Alison arrive late.

“It looks like Central Command’s feeling generous,” he remarked. “I’m told that, thanks to you, they’re sending us three platoons of knights.”

Alison gave the commander a friendly smile; the expression certainly wasn’t in keeping with how she interacted with those aboard the Melea. “If I was able to help you out at all, I’m honored, sir. I’ll leave positioning the platoons to you.”

The commander’s harsh look softened. “I appreciate this, Captain. I’m more hopeful already.” He saluted and ended the call.

Wiping the smile off her face, Alison turned around and glared at Tim. “That was no way to speak to the commander of your fleet.”

Tim was receiving a rather nasty look from his great-granddaughter, but if there was one thing he didn’t want to compromise about, it was safeguarding the Melea. “We can’t take point on this thing just because we’ve got one knight. People who say ‘yes, sir’ to anything and everything, not considering the consequences, just become space junk.” He issued the warning with a distinct air of “You wouldn’t understand, little girl.”

Alison picked up on that clearly, and her expression turned even harsher. “It’s laughable to see you try so desperately to protect this ship when you abandoned my great-grandmother and grandfather.”

Tim couldn’t say anything to that. Alison nursed a grudge against him, evidently.

“Just as your family meant nothing to you, I don’t see this ship as anything but a stopping point on my way somewhere that actually matters,” she added. “From now on, I do hope you’ll follow my orders, Colonel.” She crossed her arms and fell silent.

Her words had stabbed like thorns into Tim’s chest. This is worse than war.

Chapter 6: The Imperial Army

Chapter 6:
The Imperial Army

THERE WERE JUST THREE HUNDRED ships in the strike squad the Melea had rendezvoused with. That wasn’t a very comforting number in a conflict that involved over nine million ships total. On the other hand, such a small force wouldn’t likely be sent where the fighting was fiercest.

Despite the term “strike squad,” units like this ended up doing busywork on the battlefield more than anything else. They didn’t have the numbers to go up against the enemy directly, which granted them a relatively safe position.

As proof of that, the Melea had been in the war zone for more than a month now, and it had yet to get caught up in a single battle. It had only received tasks such as escorting supply ships, and it hadn’t encountered a single space pirate. Such pirates had likely fled when this location became a battleground for two major powers.

In the Melea’s hangar, Larry was dressed in his pilot suit, drinking something. “I was nervous when I heard that we were going to war,” he told Molly, “but it’s been pretty quiet since the whole thing started.”

Molly was running a check on the Third Weapons Factory’s Raccoons, and she faced her tablet as she replied. Since Doug and Larry had both customized their units, the two machines were different, even if they looked the same. That made them tricky for the mechanics to work on. Even with that difficult task in front of her, however, she was relaxed enough to keep up with Larry’s chitchat. “Doug was saying that it might’ve been dangerous if we’d been thrown into one of the big forces to pad their numbers. I’m fine with it being quiet if it means these babies won’t get wrecked. Thanks to all this customization, they’re finally getting to show off their uniqueness. If they got destroyed now, it’d be too sad.”

“Are they really that different…? They all look the same.” It didn’t seem to Larry like there was much distinction between any of the Raccoon units.

Molly clearly didn’t agree. “Completely different! You can’t tell? Doug’s Raccoon is a power-type, but I made yours a technique-type to bolster its accuracy. I’m honestly amazed that we can customize these machines so thoroughly. If you ask me, they’re masterpieces. I bet I could talk all night long with whoever developed these babies.”

“Uh-huh…” Larry flipped upside down, floating in the zero-gravity hangar. He was bored, so he was starting to fool around, but he didn’t take out his gaming console. He must’ve thought better of it after their last mission. Even he was changing his attitude little by little.

Of course, he was as unmotivated as ever. “Well, if nothing happens, and we make it home safe, that’s perfectly fine with me.”

Molly sighed and glared at him. “If you keep talking like that, Emma will get after you again. Did you forget how she doubled your training schedule last time?”

Emma was always scolding Larry for his lazy remarks, and the last time he’d mouthed off, she doubled his training regimen. He still remembered how his whole body had ached. “Sorry, okay? Sorry… Ugh. Our commander’s too serious for her own good.” At this point, he at least acknowledged Emma enough to call her his commander.

Molly was so happy about that she couldn’t hide her smile. “Lately, Emma’s gotten stronger in a few ways, huh?”

“Guess so,” Larry admitted. “She doesn’t seem as unreliable as before, that’s for sure.” When she’d been made the Third Platoon’s leader as a rookie, he’d worried, but now he didn’t doubt her skill.

Molly grinned. “You should put some effort in, like she does, Larry.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Just then, Emma flew into the hangar alongside Doug. Both looking tense, they kicked off the wall and sped toward Larry and Molly. For a moment, Larry worried that they’d heard the conversation, but the situation ended up being much worse than that.

“Get ready to deploy,” Emma ordered Larry and Doug. “Stand by in your cockpits.”

The command stunned Larry. “But there was no ship-wide alert.”

Doug grabbed his arm and led him to his Raccoon. “There are allied ships nearby.”

“Huh? Now I’m more confused.”

“Just get in your cockpit and stand by. And don’t start playing your little games just ’cause you’re bored.”

Doug practically threw Larry into his cockpit, and Larry decided to ask Emma what was going on from his pilot seat. He could see her face on his monitor; she seemed to be discussing something with Molly, though.

Although it made him feel a little guilty, he used his external microphone to call out to her. “Commander, what’s going on? Isn’t standing by in the cockpit like this pretty unusual?”

Outside, Emma looked up at Larry’s Raccoon. “Allies are approaching without any advance warning. We’re not going into full alert—we don’t want to provoke them. But the fleet commander ordered us to be on our guard.”

“But they’re allies, right?” Why did they need to be on guard against their allies?

Emma frowned awkwardly at the question. “They appear to be part of the Empire’s regular army.”

“Huh…?” Larry still didn’t understand.

Emma was already heading for her cockpit, though. It seemed she had nothing more to say.

“I thought I could take it easy,” Larry said to himself, “but now I’m getting nervous again.”

***

In the Atalanta’s cockpit, Emma fixed her eyes on her monitor. Actually, the whole wall of her spherical cockpit was a monitor; on it, she watched their strike squad’s commander speak on an open channel with the commander of the regular army fleet that had approached.

The latter commander appeared to be a noble. His uniform featured flashy alterations, and his hairstyle wasn’t regulation. Only nobles were typically allowed to take such liberties.

In the Empire, nobles were afforded an even higher status than knights. They received special treatment from birth, so many looked down upon non-nobles. The man on the monitor came off as a typical noble soldier.

“I heard that House Banfield had a little fleet out here, so I came to see it myself. A mere three hundred ships? Not very reassuring, is it?” Not only had the haughty man arrived unannounced, he was now mocking them.

The strike-squad commander answered him, though he was clearly irritated. “We didn’t receive word that we were to meet up with your fleet. What might your business with our squad be?”

The noble likewise looked annoyed, probably because the strike-squad commander was a peasant rather than a fellow blue blood. He was definitely the type to look down on non-nobles. “Our fleet will soon retake a captured fortress. We need additional firepower, so we went out of our way to come meet you.”

“…If you’re after reinforcements, I suggest you petition Central Command. We haven’t received any orders to join your fleet.”

The squad commander had attempted to turn him down firmly, but at that, the noble grew visibly enraged. “Shut your mouth, you filthy commoner! I came to request your aid personally, so the only reasonable thing for you to do is help us retake the fortress, and cheerfully too! How dare you speak to me like that?! You’re from a mere private army!”

The other fleet began to prepare for bombardment, and the strike-squad commander grimaced. The noble’s fleet numbered three thousand—ten times the strike squad’s size. A fight would likely annihilate the strike squad.

I learned that allies sometimes clash in the confusion on the battlefield, but I didn’t think I’d see something like this firsthand. Emma waited nervously, ready to sortie in the Atalanta at any moment if she was commanded to.

The strike-squad commander conferred with his adjutant, and his eyes widened. “…We just received authorization from Central Command,” he said. “Our orders are to join you in retaking the fortress.” He looked as though he’d eaten something sour.

On the other hand, the noble was delighted. “How gracious of House Banfield’s fleet to cooperate. Let’s head for the fortress, then. You’ll be the vanguard.”

He hung up on the strike-squad commander, who scowled for a moment before quickly schooling his expression. “Message to all ships… We will now rendezvous with an allied fleet to recapture a fortress.” He likewise ended his transmission.

Emma sighed with relief. Still, she couldn’t exactly relax yet. “I don’t want to believe the whole Imperial regular army is like that.” And we’re going to be the vanguard in an operation to retake a fortress… I’m not looking forward to this.

***

When Emma exited the Atalanta’s cockpit, she was approached by Ein and the rest of the Valrhona team. They must’ve been listening to the commander’s transmission as well; they knew what the situation was.

They assumed that Emma was on the same page and asked her about it directly. “If we’ll be serving as vanguard, we’d like to know whether we have any chance of winning this fight.”

The vanguard position offered lots of opportunities for glory, but it entailed a lot of loss as well—that was the very reason there was a chance for glory. Ein didn’t seem like the type to try to make a name for himself on the battlefield, though. Plus, this particular battle didn’t seem very glorious. The nobles didn’t want to lose any of their forces, so they’d grabbed House Banfield’s strike squad to use as a shield. It was hard to say that there was glory in that.

Emma wasn’t particularly enthusiastic about participating in this battle, but they’d been ordered to, so she had no choice. “Well, I plan to switch all units to their equipment for fortress occupation.”

When Ein heard that, he raised his voice. “That won’t be enough! Have you even got experience capturing a fortress, Captain?”

The reason for his desperate tone was simple: Storming a fortress was dangerous. In ancient times, it was said that you’d require three times the defending force’s numbers to take an enemy castle. The defenders’ advantage was that significant.

“I attacked a ground base once,” Emma replied.

“So you’ve got no experience taking a space fortress. I can’t imagine we’ll function as a competent vanguard, then.”

The entire strike squad would serve as the vanguard, but since Emma was a knight, her unit would likely be where the fighting was fiercest. Ein probably anticipated that, leading him to ask what Emma’s strategy would be.

“Please prepare your Valrhona to sortie as well, Lieutenant Kimura,” Emma ordered. “If you have it, fortress-assault equipment is preferred.”

“Captain, I can’t fight under your command,” Ein replied swiftly. “We’ll participate in this battle independently.”

He took his subordinates and left just like that.

Rick appeared next. “Boss Lady…er…my machine’s acting up a bit, so I think I’ll pass on the fortress-storming thing. That cool with you…?” he asked with a smile.

Emma sighed. “If you aren’t going to sortie, I’m not allowing you to enter your cockpit.”

The Melea’s safety couldn’t be guaranteed while they were storming a fortress, and there was a chance the ship would be shot down. So, if he couldn’t stand by inside his mobile knight, Rick would leave his fate in the hands of others.

Rick either disliked that idea, or had some pride as a pilot. He sighed. “Guess I’ve got no choice but to sortie this time.”

He walked off to prepare for battle, and Emma watched him go.

Once they were finally alone, she turned to Molly, who was busily working on this and that nearby. “Molly, load the Atalanta with as many weapons as it can carry.”

“Well, sure—but what about Larry and Doug’s Raccoons? Are you going to decide on their weapons?”

“They can pick their own weapons. Just tell them to bring as many as possible. I’ll instruct them both to equip large shields too.”

Those orders made Molly look a little worried. “Are you sure? You’ll move slower, so you’ll run the risk of getting shot down before you can use them all. Wouldn’t focusing on mobility be better?”

Enhancing their mobility was an alternate tactic that could get them close to the fortress as quickly as possible. And given Doug and Larry’s high simulator scores, they could probably avoid the enemy’s attacks and reach the fortress.

But Emma had picked a strategy with a better chance of victory. “It’ll be okay. I’ll make sure that everyone gets to the fortress.” It’s do or die now. The question is whether I’ll be able to do it… No, I will do it. I’m a selfish knight of justice, after all. Inside, she was fainthearted and anxious, but she’d spoken with confidence to try to shake off her own doubts. There’s no going back now, she told herself.

She convinced Molly, at least. “You seem more reliable than before, Emma. Okay—gotcha. I’ll load up the mobile knights with as many weapons as possible, just like you said.”

“Thanks, Molly.”

***

On the vast bridge of the Vár—the flagship of the Empire’s forces—Christiana stood within a pillar of light, running her eyes over data detailing the state of the battlefield as a whole. She had a handle on every battle, large and small, and accurately deployed craft wherever they were needed. However…

“This is getting us nowhere. It doesn’t matter whether I place units perfectly if the people on-site can’t make good use of them.”

If reinforcements weren’t expertly utilized by the commanders in the field, they were wasted, however meticulously Christiana and her aides positioned them. And forces dispatched by the Imperial Army, in particular, weren’t likely to listen to House Banfield’s instructions.

Returning from a break, Claudia went to Christiana’s side. “Please take a break soon too, Lady Christiana,” she urged. “You haven’t rested in three days. You’ll wear yourself out at this rate.”

Christiana was pushing herself to an extent that worried Claudia; that was why the adjutant was trying to persuade her to rest. Christiana didn’t want to step back yet, though. She hadn’t reached a stopping point that satisfied her. “I’ll rest in another three days… No, two. But I won’t be able to relax until our position is a little more advantageous.”

Dismissing Claudia’s suggestion, Christiana focused on the placement of their vessels—until a voice called out to her from behind.

“You should take a break, Lady Christiana.”

Christiana turned around and saw Claus looking down at her from his seat. “I can keep going,” the frustrated Christiana replied to the acting supreme commander—her superior, now.

Christiana had once been House Banfield’s head knight, in charge of all the family’s forces, but Claus had pulled ahead of her in that race. Christiana was as prideful as she was capable, so she couldn’t stand that. She was magnanimous enough to accept reality, though, so she did her best to show Claus the respect he required as her boss.

That boss now ordered her to stand down. “The fighting won’t be done anytime soon. I don’t think it’s wise to push yourself now. Besides, your subordinates tend to push themselves when they see you do so.”

When he pointed this out, Christiana glanced at her aides and noticed that Claudia looked slightly pale. If her adjutant still looked tired even after her break, she’d likely cut it short to return to work. Evidently Christiana’s assistants hadn’t been able to rest as much as they needed to; she was pushing herself, and they were concerned with helping her.

My focus was too narrow… It’s been a while. I suppose I developed tunnel vision. Sighing quietly, she stepped from the pillar of light. “If I can’t even keep tabs on my subordinates’ health, I suppose I’d better rest. I’ll do as you suggest, Sir Claus.”

Claudia was relieved to hear that Christiana would take a break.

As she left, Christiana remarked, “Claudia, that knight you have your eye on is in one of the strike squads.”

“Captain Rodman, ma’am?” Emma’s name was the first to come to mind when Claudia heard “that knight you have your eye on.” It was proof that she was thinking about the girl.

“Unfortunately,” Christiana continued, “that strike squad just got roped into retaking a fortress with a force of scrounged-up patrol fleets. I didn’t want our forces to spend too much time on useless operations like that. Oh, well.”

Although it was indeed part of the Empire’s regular army, the force the noble commanded consisted of some patrol fleets that had been scraped together. A patrol fleet was a convenient place to send a problematic noble, and the Imperial Army had quite a few such fleets commanded by nobles, since that kept them far away from the regular army. Most noble commanders were either useless or outright impediments, after all. And, although it was a bit pathetic, such noble commanders were a big problem for the Imperial Army.

Claudia knew this, and her expression was sour. “I’ll order them not to involve themselves.”

“Too late now. If we try to pull the strike squad back, we’ll just piss off the Imperial Army commander and start a firefight between the groups. It’ll be better if they just recapture the fortress for us.”

“But with their numbers…they could be wiped out.”

“They’ll be fine. There aren’t many of them, but I sent them some useful reinforcements. And…” Christiana smiled, looking at Claudia’s face. “…I think she can do it. Your student has grown; you should believe in her a little more.”

Claudia smiled back at Christiana, who left the bridge to go take her break.

Chapter 7: To Capture a Fortress

Chapter 7:
To Capture a Fortress

THE MELEA RECEIVED SUPPLIES from Central Command ahead of the assault on the fortress. The supply ship had positioned itself along the strike squad’s anticipated course, allowing them to meet up smoothly.

Molly stared at the new supplies in the hangar, surprised. “It feels weird to resupply en route to a mission.” Meeting the supply ship so easily seemed a little too effortless to her.

Emma understood why that had been possible, so she explained it to Molly, although she didn’t have all the details—it was difficult for a single knight to know everything unfolding on such a vast battlefield. “We’ve got allies all over the place. I bet these supplies were actually on their way somewhere else, and they redirected them to us.”

Their allies were spread throughout the star system that served as this war’s battlefield, so Central Command could send supply units wherever they were needed.

Hearing that, Molly was concerned that they’d stolen supplies destined elsewhere. “That’s pretty reckless… Won’t the people the supplies were meant for be mad?”

They probably would be. “Yeah. Maybe. But I think Central Command sent us the supplies because they realize how hard they’re pushing us.”

They’d gotten roped into a mission they weren’t supposed to be on, so Central Command had thrown them a bone with these supplies, Emma decided. Of course, she couldn’t know what they were really thinking; all she could do was guess.

She glanced around the hangar. The Raccoons were loaded with as many weapons as they could carry. The arsenal was clearly excessive. Doug and Larry’s units were also equipped with large shields; they were so loaded down that Emma questioned whether they could even perform as they were supposed to.

When they saw their craft, Larry and Doug exploded at each other; they were one step away from physically fighting.

“Storming a fortress with our craft weighed down like this is way too reckless! We need to equip them to enhance their mobility!”

“Being a little more agile won’t keep us from getting shot down! We’ve just got to do this, so man up!”

“No way! We’re gonna die, I’m telling you!”

Emma rolled her eyes at the pair. Kicking off of the ground, she flew toward them. “It’ll be all right, Warrant Officer Cramer.”

“Captain? Well, you seem sure, but will it really?”

“I’ll carve a path. As long as you follow the Atalanta, you’ll make it to the fortress.”

Larry was speechless for a second. “And after we get there?!”

“Well, from there…” Emma began.

A member of a squad that had arrived alongside the supplies took over for her. “From there, it’s on us. It’s been a long time, Captain. You look nothing like you did when I last saw you.”

The woman who’d spoken wore the powered suit typical of landing forces. She took off her helmet, saluting. Looking at her black suit, Larry realized whom she was affiliated with: The garment’s shoulder bore several identical marks that resembled old-fashioned knight’s helmets with Xs over them. This was a unit they were familiar with.

“The Knight Killers… They’re from Treasure? We fought alongside them on Alias…” Larry looked ready to bolt.

The woman just smiled wryly, as though she was used to people fearing her. “Wherever we go, people call us Treasure. ‘The Special Landing Force’ is our official name, but… Well, at any rate, we’ll accompany you on this mission. If you can get us to the fortress, we’ll take it down, no problem.”

Emma was thrilled that special forces had arrived with their supplies. Treasure’s members were better than anyone at occupying an enemy stronghold, after all. The last time they’d worked together, their abilities had shocked Emma. “This’ll really help. Actually…given that you were sent here, is the fortress we’re supposed to capture important?”

“No,” the woman said. “I hear this mission is related to the succession conflict, if anything. A fortress the Imperial Army was defending got captured easily, so they’re desperate to get it back. Central Command was perfectly fine with ignoring it.”

Doug crossed his arms, obviously displeased that the fortress they’d be risking their lives for wasn’t even important. “So this is just some nobles trying not to look bad.”

The woman agreed. Like Doug, she was irritated, but she didn’t seem too upset. Her attitude suggested this was something she was used to. “Yep. That’s not rare. We’ve cleaned up after them a few times during this war. Whoops—said a little too much there. Well, I’ll expect a lot from you, Melea.”

After the woman from the landing force left, Emma turned to Larry and Doug. “Well, we don’t have to worry about what will happen after we reach the fortress now, do we?”

“As long as we can get there.” Larry scratched his head with a complicated expression.

Doug, on the other hand, laughed loudly. He’d gotten back to being his old self. “At this point, we’ve just got to man up.”

Larry didn’t look satisfied, but he gave up anyway; he didn’t want to argue with Doug either.

***

The Valrhona team was customizing their craft for the mission.

“If we could, I’d want us to equip bigger boosters,” Ein said. “With the parts we have now, though, I think this is the best we can do.”

He’d made the exact opposite decision from Emma and had prepped the units to ensure high maneuverability. The commander’s unit he piloted was already very agile, but he’d also added boosters to his subordinates’ Valrhonas.

The team’s mechanic approached Ein. “Lieutenant, I calibrated the machines for maximum maneuverability, but are you sure that’ll be all right? To keep their weight as low as possible, we only equipped them with the bare-minimum weaponry.”

But Ein did prefer to reduce the craft’s weaponry in order to lighten them. “Once we reach the fortress, it’ll be the landing force’s job,” he assured the mechanic. “Our job is just to destroy the external interception system. We don’t need many weapons; we just need to be light.”

He’d chosen this strategy because he and his subordinates were skilled; while he wasn’t a knight, he had confidence in his piloting. To be chosen as a test pilot, he had to be skillful, and the same went for his subordinates.

Removing his glasses, Ein looked up at his Valrhona. “Using valuable test pilots in a situation like this…? House Banfield’s gotten sloppy, now that it’s so big.” It was only natural that he thought that; after all, an experimental engineering ship shouldn’t have been sent to a battlefield. Another possibility occurred to Ein as well, however. “Or did those who want Nemains used exert pressure to bring this about…?”

A lot of people were reluctant to see House Banfield switch to current-gen machines. Some within the Third Weapons Factory would prefer the house use Nemains, not Valrhonas. On top of that, lots of knights were attached to the Nemain design, which they felt had supported House Banfield up until now. There were also definitely people at the Third who wanted data on next-gen craft, rather than current-gen ones, in order to sell more of them. Many of those people opposed the adoption of the Valrhona.

The mechanic smiled wryly. “We can think about that when we come back alive.”

“Yeah. Now’s not the time to mull it over. Survival comes first.”

Ein looked at the heavily armed Raccoons. He couldn’t begin to understand why Emma chose the approach she did.

“Well, let’s see what the knight they call Lightning Bolt can do.”

***

Meanwhile, the Armored Nemain team was struggling under the apathetic Rick.

“This is the perfect opportunity to show off what the Armored Nemain can do, Sub-Lieutenant Martin,” the head developer tried to explain. “Capturing a fortress would be the perfect display of the craft’s capabilities.”

The Armored Nemain had extra plating atop its already thick armor, and added boosters compensated for any potential loss of speed, so the unit was uniquely suited to this mission. It wouldn’t even need additional equipment—just a motivated pilot.

“Uh-huh… Roger,” Rick replied. “I’ll just do what I always do.”

This lackadaisical response appalled the head developer. “We didn’t want to participate in a battle either, you know. But if you show everyone the Armored Nemain’s capabilities here, that’ll be another step toward getting it adopted for use. Please survive and come back with valuable data for us, okay, Sub-Lieutenant Martin?”

“If you really want to motivate me, you probably shouldn’t be so practical. But I mean, I’ll do what I can—I don’t want to die or anything.” Rick was prepared to fight so that he wouldn’t perish. Still, he had to complain. “Man… I get assigned to an experimental engineering ship and everything, and now I have to go fight in a war? Give me a break…”

The head developer gave him a skeptical look. “House Banfield’s current head is known to be a war hawk. Serving as a House Banfield knight, I think you’ll get caught up in a lot more wars, whether you like it or not.”

“And I became a test pilot because I didn’t want to go to war. Man, life’s hard, ain’t it?”

Rick kept complaining right up until the last minute.

***

On the bridge of the Melea, Alison had grown nervous in the lead-up to the operation. She had crossed her arms to feign calm, but her fingers tapped her biceps restlessly.

Noticing her state, Tim called out to her. “Looks like we’ll lead the charge in this operation, Inspector.”

Alison didn’t turn to face him. “A rational decision,” she responded. “The Melea is this fleet’s best-equipped vessel.” Despite claiming that it was “rational,” she didn’t seem accepting of the situation.

The strike squad had been designated this operation’s vanguard, and the Melea would be at the front of the fleet. It was being forced to lead the charge because its mobile knight squadron consisted entirely of top-of-the-line units. The Melea itself had been upgraded recently too, so it had been judged suitable for the vanguard.

They couldn’t do anything about their prescribed position, but the vanguard would bear the heaviest burden within the fleet. No doubt Alison wanted to get through this war safely and felt frustrated that things weren’t going according to plan.

Gazing at her back, Tim smiled faintly. “Everything in moderation, Inspector. Aim too high, and you’ll get pulled into trouble like this. If you survive, this’ll be a good life lesson.”

Tim wasn’t saying anything untrue: They were only facing this danger because of their cutting-edge mobile knights. Still, Alison rounded on him in anger. Brow furrowed, she snapped, “Sounds just like what you’d say if you were a colonel living off the military like a parasite, never achieving anything.”

Tim said nothing in response.

“Anyway,” Alison continued, “you can’t get anything without taking risks, you know. If you’re scared to die and want to stay somewhere safe, you should leave the military already. You cling pathetically to the army just to collect a paycheck. You have no right to lecture me.”

Tim remained quiet.

Alison turned back around, again uninterested. “Fortunately, this ship has an ace knight, as well as the count’s very own landing force. This isn’t an opportunity that’ll come again soon—I’ll grasp victory here and climb even higher.”

Alison evidently hadn’t needed Tim’s consolation. The bridge crew looked at the colonel pityingly after his sound verbal defeat.

Tim pulled his hat low over his eyes. “Do what you want.”

Chapter 8: The Lightning-Bolt Knight

Chapter 8:
The Lightning-Bolt Knight

THE IMPERIAL ARMY was preparing to launch its assault on the fortress.

They’d added a strike squad from House Banfield to their numbers; still, most of their force consisted of scrounged-up patrol fleets.

They’d been sent to the Paros star system to shore up the defenses of one of the Empire’s bases. The location wasn’t particularly vital, but vessels could be resupplied and maintained there, which made it worth defending.

When the United Kingdom had attacked, however, the patrol fleets had fled, abandoning the base. If the war ended now, they’d have done nothing but fail at their one mission. That was why they were fixated on retaking this base, even though the mission had no particular strategic merit.

Commanding this scraped-together force was a major general with a handlebar mustache he was quite proud of. Stroking his mustache, he declared, “House Banfield’s bumpkin army will be the perfect opening act for us.” He could see the strike squad flying in front of them on his monitor.

Next to the major general stood the beautiful female officer serving as both his secretary and his adjutant. She was talented, but she’d used her looks as a weapon to climb to her current position. Her eyes were cold as she watched the strike squad. “It’s exactly as you say, Your Excellency,” she responded. “House Banfield really does put a lot of money into their military, though—don’t they, sir?”

The secretary’s assessment of House Banfield’s fleet visibly irritated the major general. “Hmph! That suits Banfield—he got where he is through military prowess. And it’s useful in a situation like this. Since ours is a temporary force put together in haste, our weapons are outdated.”

In fact, his force mostly consisted of fleets problematic nobles could be sent to in order to keep them out of the way, so there was no reason to keep their gear updated. A lot of it was outdated junk compared to what House Banfield wielded. The ships could only beat House Banfield’s in terms of appearance, if anything; after all, lots of nobles cared about optics. House Banfield’s ships, on the other hand, were designed solely to win battles. Their performance had been prioritized over their appearance, so their quality was vastly superior to that of the major general’s forces.

The major general didn’t like that, but he decided to think of the Banfield vessels as a reliable shield for his own ships.

His secretary smiled maliciously. “You’re going to wear down House Banfield’s fighting strength as a present for Prince Calvin, aren’t you? Your family belongs to his faction, doesn’t it?”

When she brought up the conflict between factions, a slimy smile appeared on the major general’s face. “It’ll all be for the crown prince’s victory. This war isn’t worth much compared to the succession conflict; if Prince Cleo is defeated here, that won’t hurt me one bit. It’ll mean much more if I can reduce House Banfield’s firepower and make up for my own mistakes in the process.”

All the forces involved in this war were fighting for the Empire, but the major general was dragging the faction war into it, endeavoring to impede his own side’s political enemies. That was a consequence of the succession conflict taking place on the Capital Planet: The crown prince, Calvin, and the third prince, Cleo, were competing over who would become the next emperor. The nobles in those two factions didn’t see this war with the United Kingdom as anything but an extension of that succession conflict. After all, if the Empire lost, it would only give up the Paros star system—a tiny portion of its total territory.

To the major general, who prioritized his own gain above all else, contributing to Calvin’s cause mattered more than an Imperial victory. He’d gone out of his way to recruit a strike squad from House Banfield’s army just to kill two birds with one stone by whittling down their fighting strength.

“A fantastic strategy, Your Excellency.”

“Thank you, thank you. I do hope we can recapture the fortress, though. Calvin’s faction was defending it originally, so if it remains in enemy hands, that’ll be a point against us.”

Calvin’s faction didn’t want any territory they’d been defending to be seized. If they failed to retake it, that would be ammunition against them for Cleo’s faction. They were once again more concerned with points in the faction war than with victory.

“I don’t doubt that you’ll recover the fortress and, in the process, deal a fierce blow to House Banfield’s forces, Your Excellency.”

The secretary’s flattery made the major general curious about something. “You’re awfully fawning today, aren’t you?”

The secretary smiled darkly. “House Banfield actually recruited a junior of mine whom I wasn’t very fond of,” she explained. “She took every opportunity to brag about her fulfilling private life. If this operation ends up causing her a little strife, I’ll get some personal satisfaction.”

“Oh? A junior, you say?” The major general seemed somewhat interested.

“She was one of those people who was so good at everything that it was annoying,” the secretary went on, still smiling.

The major general guffawed. “A feud between women, eh? No wonder you’re getting riled up.”

A staff officer nearby interrupted their conversation. “Your Excellency, it’s almost time to begin the operation.”

“Right. Is our trump card ready?” he asked.

The officer nodded. “The cutting-edge knight squadron can sortie anytime.”

“Good. They’re our ace in the hole. We’ll have them recapture the fortress after House Banfield’s forces are sufficiently weakened. Now…let’s see whether the rumors about House Banfield are true.”

As the operation began, the fleet started to advance. When the strike squad entered range of the fortress, it attacked.

The major general stroked his chin as he watched the strike squad take enemy fire. “Put on a good show for me, would you? Deal some damage and make things easier for us before they wear you down.”

As the major general watched the battle, smiling, an operator on the bridge piped up in shock. “Y-Your Excellency?!”

“What is it?”

“A mobile-knight squadron deployed from the strike squad! They’re heading for the fortress!”

“They deployed at this range…?” the major general asked, confused. It was surely too early to deploy mobile knights, wasn’t it?

He doubted it was a simple misjudgment. Still, he had no idea what House Banfield’s strike squad could be planning.

***

Just after the beginning of the mission, Alison—rather than Tim—was giving commands on the bridge of the Melea. The ship was shaking under the enemy’s attacks, but its defense fields held.

Alison raised her voice at the bridge crew. “Get us close enough to deploy the mobile-knight squadron at all costs! Concentrate your fire on the enemy fortress’s defensive facilities!”

Hearing her orders, the gunners complained. “You think we can hit them from here?! We’re not even in effective range yet!”

“The guns can hit from this distance,” Alison insisted. “Don’t hide behind your incompetence—just attack!”

“Gh… Yes, ma’am.” Although they didn’t seem convinced, the gunners acknowledged her order.

Watching Alison from behind, Tim could tell how little practical experience she had. She’s a total rookie going off her textbook. Has she even commanded a ship before?

He was right on the money. The Melea didn’t have the range to adequately counterattack from its current position. It was true that its crew had regained their motivation, and that the ship itself was much more capable than before, but—given all the fierce fighting he had experienced in the days of the old army—Tim could tell that the crew hadn’t shaken all the rust off yet.

It’ll still take a few more years before we master this souped-up Melea.

The crew couldn’t yet make full use of the Melea’s upgraded specs. On top of that, they’d just replaced some 40 percent of their crew. Alison knew the vessel’s specs, but she didn’t fully understand its circumstances—she didn’t know what the crew was capable of in practice.

I don’t want to die someplace like this with my great-granddaughter. Tim adjusted his hat. “Redirect all energy to our defensive field. And ready the mobile knight squadron for deployment.”

As he took command, the bridge crew moved to follow his orders without complaint.

“Defense field at maximum output!”

As the field strengthened, the shaking of the Melea calmed to a degree.

“Readying mobile-knight squadron for deployment!”

As the operators repeated Tim’s commands, Alison shouted, “If you deploy mobile knights at this distance, they’ll just be shot down! Shut up and listen to my—”

That was when Tim turned the full force of his glare on Alison. He may have gotten stale, but he hadn’t made it through all those harsh battles for nothing. His eyes were more than fierce enough to stop Alison in her tracks.

“Could you pipe down, Miss Inspector? I think you’ll find that I have more experience here than you. I don’t want you to write my troops off either. That annoying little knight who got us this far won’t be shot down at this distance.”

“How can you be—”

Before Alison could finish the question, an operator cut in. “Launching the Atalanta!”

***

From her cockpit, Emma had sensed something off about the Melea’s movements. She was relieved when everything went back to normal. The ship feels like itself again… Up until a moment ago, everything felt a little strange. If it’s back to normal now, though, I guess it’s fine.

Over the comms, Molly informed Emma that it was time to deploy: “We just got authorization to launch the mobile knights, Emma.”

“Finally. I thought we’d get out there a little sooner.” Gripping her control sticks, Emma gave the company a command. “We’ve received authorization to launch. The Atalanta will lead the way—everyone follow me!”

“Yes, ma’am,” answered everyone but Ein and Rick.

“As I told you earlier, Captain, the Valrhona team will do our own thing.”

“I’m gonna do my own thing too, if that’s cool.”

Inside, Emma had plenty to say to these two self-centered pilots. Still, she’d always known that they were troublemakers, and she also knew that forcing them to obey wouldn’t lead anywhere good. “That’s fine. Act according to your own judgment.”

When she gave them permission, one of the platoon commanders—Jessica—complained, miffed that Emma was letting the pair do as they liked. “Hey, they can’t do that! They’re your subordinates, aren’t they?! Think about our reputation if our commander lets units do whatever they want!”

She wasn’t using a tone she should have taken with her commander; it was clear that she wanted Emma to act more authoritatively, so Emma added, “It won’t be a problem. We can retake the fortress with or without them.” It was essentially a declaration that she didn’t expect anything of Ein or Rick.

Jessica was silent for a second, then burst out laughing. “That’s what makes you our boss!”

Ein’s and Rick’s expressions had soured on Emma’s monitor, which she ignored, continuing with her launch preparations. “Please take your time launching. I’m sure you couldn’t keep up with the Atalanta anyway,” she ribbed them, smiling.

Ein’s glasses glinted darkly. “Big talk, Captain.”

Rick looked the same as always, but he had a rejoinder too. “Yeah, I doubt I could keep up with the Atalanta, considering its speed… I don’t think we lose in terms of overall specs, though.”

The locks holding the Atalanta in place released, and the arm fixed to the craft’s back manually ejected it from the hangar. Next, arms pushed Larry’s and Doug’s Raccoons out into space.

“Requesting exit through defense field, Melea,” Emma said.

At one time, the bridge operators would’ve dragged their heels, but their response was immediate now.

“We’ll open a hole on your course as you approach. You can deploy anytime.”

“Roger… Atalanta, deploying!”

The twin boosters on the Atalanta’s back lit up, and the craft separated from the arm, launching into space. Its acceleration pushed Emma back, but she could withstand the force without being pressed into the chair behind her.

When she shot out of the Melea, the fortress’s defense system began targeting her. Emma equipped the Atalanta’s multipurpose rifle and started shooting as she moved. The rifle had a long barrel, and it was difficult to use; still, it was perfect for the Atalanta, which made use of both optical and physical ammunition. The rifle was a fantastic weapon capable of both sniping and continuous fire. At the moment, it was indicating that it was out of range of the fortress. However…

“There!”

Light shot from the multipurpose rifle, and a few seconds later, one of the interception weapons aiming at Emma exploded.

Even as this went on, Emma pushed the Atalanta into a reckless trajectory, dodging the attacks the fortress sent at her as she destroyed its interception system. As she kept destroying all the weapons focused on the Atalanta, the curtain fire from the fortress thinned in her path.

Once a number of turrets on the enemy fortress’s surface had been destroyed, the fortress finally began deploying mobile knights. These were equipped with large optical weapons attached to the stronghold by cables. Since the fortress supplied the weapons’ energy, they were more powerful than a typical mobile knight’s weapon. The pilot wielding them didn’t have to worry about running out of ammo either.

The enemy mobile knights targeted the Atalanta, which was leading the Imperial fleet’s charge. They were slow, though: Maybe they were panicking now that so much of the interception system had been destroyed.

That response gave Emma a sense of their skill level. “They’re not knights! In that case…”

She continued to destroy the mobile knights who’d emerged to intercept her, picking them off from beyond her effective range. And it didn’t take the speedy Atalanta long to reach the effective range for her multipurpose rifle. Moving evasively, Emma used it to destroy the turrets hidden behind rocks. When the rifle was out of ammo, she mounted it on her back and switched weapons.

“I’ve bought them enough distance. From here on…”

Both her hands now wielded assault rifles—a large machine gun with physical ammo in her right hand and a beam rifle in her left. This two-gun style incorporated both an optical and a physical weapon.

Fire converged on the Atalanta as the foe tried to shoot it down, but Emma dodged the attacks with her inborn reaction speed. The Atalanta’s sensitivity had made all its previous test pilots cry, but it was the only machine that could keep pace with Emma’s reaction time. And the enemy interception system couldn’t keep up with Emma’s or the Atalanta’s speed.

Reaching the fortress, Emma announced, “The Atalanta’s the first to arrive! Melea, this is Emma! I’ve made it to the fortress!”

She used the twin boosters on her back to slow down but couldn’t completely kill her momentum. Reaching the fortress, she slid slightly, rolling and shooting the rest of her ammo. The turrets and missile containers positioned around her blew up one by one. Mobile knights were still emerging from the fortress as well, but Emma shot them down without mercy. Opening the hatches on the missile containers attached to the Atalanta’s legs, she shot all the missiles inside out into the area around her.

Finishing off the turrets and mobile knights nearby, Emma tossed aside her assault rifles and purged the emptied missile containers. Now much lighter, the Atalanta took out Emma’s specialty: dual handguns.

Not long after, Emma received a response, but not from the Melea. Missiles rained down on the faraway turrets targeting her; concealed mobile knights and newly emerged turrets were blown away all at once.

“It’s finally our turn now.” Doug’s Raccoon descended on the fortress, holding a large gatling gun in one hand and a huge shield in the other.

Then Larry’s Raccoon—which was guarding a small vessel like an armored car—made a shaky landing outside the fortress. He tossed away the shield he held, his other hand gripping the armored vessel rather than a weapon.

Inside the vessel were Special Landing Force soldiers. Laughing, they griped to Larry about the ride.

“You won’t be popular unless you escort dates a little more courteously, kid.”

“Well, we did make it in one piece. I’ll at least treat you to some juice, lad.”

“Easy on the landing, kid.”

“That’s the thanks I get for guarding you with my life?!” Larry shouted back from his cockpit. “Hurry up and capture the damn fortress!”

Now that they’d reached the fortress, the Special Landing Force exited the transport vessel and assailed the base; in their wake, more Raccoons touched down outside the fortress. Emma counted them; she was relieved to find that all the mobile knights were present.

Her next command, however, was stern. “We’ll now protect the landing force and eliminate the fortress’s exterior defenses. The enemy has deployed mobile knights, so everyone keep your guard up!”

Chapter 9: The Power of the Experimental Engineering Ship

Chapter 9:
The Power of the Experimental Engineering Ship

A‌FTER THE ATALANTA REACHED the fortress, things moved fast.

With a hole opened in the stronghold’s interception system, the strike squad approached, sending in more and more mobile knights. The squad took less damage than expected during that assault, managing to establish a foothold without help.

Watching all this from the bridge, Alison was speechless.

Behind her, in the commander’s seat, Tim said, “Once we’ve made it there, all we’ve got to do is take them down… The problem will be the enemy knights. What happens now will depend on how many they’ve got.”

Reaching the fortress was one thing, but the deployment of enemy mobile knights would change things quickly. If there were a lot of them, the fleet vessels surrounding the fortress would just make good targets. And if knights were lurking inside the fortress, it could slow down the process of capturing it, giving the foe time to call reinforcements.

Alison spun and glared at Tim. “So, now that you’ve wrested command from me, this mission is a success. I applaud your skills. You must feel good about yourself.”

Tim looked annoyed that Alison had brought her personal grievance into this. “Sure. Won’t be happy until it’s all over and I’ve survived, though. There’s no joy or regret if you don’t make it out alive.”

Alison hung her head and clenched her fists, frustrated, and Tim said nothing more.

***

Ein had reached the fortress with the Valrhona team. From his cockpit, he watched the Atalanta fight. The way it used a peculiar dual-handgun style to smoothly crush every mobile knight that emerged from the fortress made it seem incredibly formidable.

“Guess she does deserve that nickname,” Ein mused.

The Valrhona team was destroying the fortress’s exterior turrets, but not as successfully as the Raccoons, given the arsenal the latter had been loaded with.

“Lieutenant, I’m almost out of ammo.”

“Same here.”

Those reports indicated that the second and third Valrhona craft couldn’t fight much longer, and the same went for Ein. He only had a few energy packs left for his rifle.

“…We’ll equip melee weapons and shift to backing up the rest of the force,” Ein declared.

When he ordered them to protect the Raccoons, his subordinates’ eyes widened.

“Are you sure, sir? I don’t think there’s any need for us to push ourselves here.”

“We’ll need to cooperate with our allies to make it through this battle. Besides, if we left the fortress to return to our mothership now, there’s a good chance we’d be shot down.”

“Understood.”

The subordinate Valrhonas switched to melee weapons.

Watching the Atalanta, Ein smiled faintly. “Lightning Bolt… No lie in that name.”

***

The Armored Nemain had been moving around destroying the fortress’s surface turrets, but after running out of ammo, it switched to taking cover where it could. Rick figured that he’d done enough work; now, he focused on surviving the battle.

Through the eye camera on the Armored Nemain’s reinforced head, he scanned the battlefield, then whistled, impressed. “Boss Lady really opened a hole in that thing.”

The Atalanta had destroyed the fortress’s defense system on its way in, weakening the enemy’s attack power considerably along the path it had taken. The foe had deployed mobile knights to cover the gap Emma had opened, but Emma and her Raccoons were hindering those efforts. The rest of the strike squad was approaching along the same course Emma had taken, and if they got to the fortress, things would shift in the Imperial Army’s favor.

“Ha ha! Seems like I’ll make it through if I can just stay hidden now.” Rick was relieved that his chances had apparently risen. Then he suddenly felt the ground shift under the Armored Nemain’s feet. “Huh…?”

A hole opened beneath him, revealing a passageway from which mobile knights streamed.

“Come on! A hidden passage isn’t fair!”

The Armored Nemain took off, climbing rapidly, and three enemy mobile knights followed it. Rick tried to use his boosters to shake them, but the pursuers seemed to be high-performance units piloted by knights.

“Aw… Even if I get away, these guys’ll kill somebody, won’t they? Mmf… Guess I’ve got to take care of ’em.”

The Armored Nemain turned back to face the approaching United Kingdom knights. A section of its armor opened up, revealing several lenses capable of shooting lasers. He aimed at the enemy craft and fired.

The thin beams that shot at the enemy weren’t powerful enough to pierce their armor. Seeing this, the enemy decided the Armored Nemain wasn’t a threat and began to attack. One aimed a rifle at Rick.

He whistled. “Bad move.”

His lasers focused on the enemy’s magazine and blew it up; the explosion also tore off the target’s arm. At that point, the enemy gave up on long-range attacks and switched to close combat.

“Quick on the uptake, huh? That won’t help either.”

The Armored Nemain surged forward, getting some distance from the three craft as it fired the missiles attached to its legs. Those missiles zeroed in on the enemy craft, blowing all three of them up.

Purging the missile packs from his mobile knight, Rick sighed. “Well, there goes my trump card. Can’t do much else now other than avoid getting hit.”

He glanced at the corner of his monitor where he could see the Atalanta fighting hard.

“Well…with Boss Lady out here, I should be fine. She’s way more ruthless than she looks, huh? Makes me pity the enemy.”

***

When he saw how his new adversaries were moving, Doug shouted “These are knights!” as his gatling gun spewed bullets.

The way the enemy mobile knights avoided the Raccoons’ attacks probably meant that they were piloted by knights from the United Kingdom.

“I’ll handle them!” Emma responded immediately, heading toward the foe in the Atalanta.

“Countin’ on ya, Captain!”

Doug and the other Raccoons fell back. Assuming their place, the Atalanta opened fire with its dual handguns. Though the weapons were shaped like pistols, their fire was fully automatic.

The distance between the two sides closed as they shot; as they passed one another, Emma kicked the head off one of the enemy mobile knights, destroying it. The defeated craft tumbled toward the fortress, and the surviving two craft turned to approach the Atalanta again. All three craft flew in a figure eight until they were about to meet once more.

“I’ll finish it here!”

Emma accelerated, using the blades attached to her two handguns to bisect the second craft and kicking the third as she went by. The kick slammed the craft to the fortress’s grounds.

When the Atalanta pulled its leg away from the other craft, a comms line had opened between them.

“Why’s there an Empire ace on a meaningless battlefield like this…?” The pilot, apparently injured, soon lost consciousness in their cockpit.

Emma confirmed that she’d taken down all three mobile knights and soon received a call from an ally—the Melea. “Good work. The way you fight is reckless as always.”

“The Melea!” The Atalanta looked up; the vessel was directly above it.

“The strike squad has arrived, and more landing forces are entering the base. This is really a big win for you, Captain.”

Just as the operator said, small vessels were streaming from the strike squad into the fortress, occupying it.

“How’s the Special Landing Force?”

“Treasure? They already disabled the base’s self-destruct devices. It’s just a matter of time now.”

“Fast as always.”

“Yep. And another company’s ready to relieve you. You can head back to the Melea.”

Since their allies were being kind enough to replace them out on the field, Emma decided to return to the ship. “Understood.” The call ended, and she issued orders to her company. “Everybody hear that? All craft, return to base!”

Although some of the craft had taken fire, they’d accomplished their mission without a single unit being downed.

***

When a little more than four-fifths of the fortress had been captured, a cheer erupted on the Melea’s bridge. There was still 20 percent of the base to take, but the command center was in the 80 percent they’d already covered. They’d also captured the individual responsible for the fortress’s defense, who was calling on his allies to surrender.

“That knight really did it!”

“I can’t believe we pulled that off!”

“How many times have we been surprised like this now?”

For the Melea, this was a grand victory: They hadn’t lost a single soldier.

On the bridge monitor, Alison watched the mobile-knight company return to the Melea. “I can’t believe it… They pulled off the mission with no casualties?”

She’d known that Emma was skilled, but the knight had surpassed all her expectations.

Behind the stunned Alison, Tim grumbled over Emma’s accomplishments. “If she can do all this, she should hurry up and join a different unit. Think you can take this knight off our hands, Miss Inspector?”

She really is impressive, he mused. I bet if she was ordered to, she’d charge into any mission with a smile, no matter how dangerous. I can’t understand it myself.

Alison ground her teeth in rage. At some point, the bridge had fallen silent; Tim’s comment had likely thrown cold water on things, although everyone there probably agreed that Emma wasn’t meant to be tied down on the Melea forever.

But Alison objected to what Tim said for a different reason. “The army’s always fighting over talented knights. I’m sure plenty of units would do anything to have a talent like Captain Rodman among their ranks.”

“That’s why I want her transferred out of here as soon as possible,” Tim replied. “She’s too much for us to handle.” I just can’t stand soldiers who follow orders like machines.

He did acknowledge Emma’s skill, but he disliked the way she’d charge into danger without a second thought if commanded to. To Tim, it was like she didn’t even have her own will; she just carried out orders. What she did had nothing to do with “fighting for justice.”

I don’t need a so-called ally of justice who’s all talk aboard my ship. To Tim, she was still no more than a girl who was trouble.

“Skilled soldiers decide the very fate of the ship they’re on.” Alison’s voice grew angrier and angrier. “Especially knights. As this vessel’s commander, shouldn’t you refrain from comments implying that you’d easily give up such a talented subordinate?” She turned back to Tim, who just scratched his head. Alison couldn’t stand his attitude. “You’re truly dripping with the spirit of failure, aren’t you?”

Tim didn’t take the bait. He lowered his hat over his eyes, keeping mum as he faced her provocation.

***

When the enemy fortress had been occupied, the major general trembled, face red. “House Banfield’s forces captured the fortress all on their own, you say…?”

“Our forces did participate, Your Excellency,” his secretary clarified. “So it isn’t accurate to say that House Banfield secured this victory all on their own.”

Of course, the Imperial Army had joined the battle only after House Banfield’s strike squad arrived at the fortress. Then, seeing that their vanguard had accomplished more than they’d expected, the imperial ranks had charged in hurriedly. In turn, they’d taken unnecessary damage, which made the major general’s blood boil.

“It’s almost entirely thanks to House Banfield!” he replied. “If we’d managed to exhaust them, I could accept that—but they took hardly any damage!”

The secretary did what she could to calm the major general, but he was incensed by his plan’s failure. That was when an aide made a report—not to the enraged major general, but to the secretary.

“Madam Secretary, we’re being contacted by a mercenary group.”

“A mercenary group?” the secretary replied coldly, picking up on the aide’s attempt to go through her to the major general. “Awfully late of them to contact us now. Which…” When she looked over the data and saw who had contacted them, her eyes widened. “The Dahlia Mercenaries? That’s an awfully well-known outfit.”

Why would such a significant mercenary group contact them? The secretary had no idea, but she took the report to the major general regardless.

Chapter 10: Those Known as Mercenaries

Chapter 10:
Those Known as Mercenaries

SIRENA SAT ON THE BRIDGE of the Dahlia Mercenaries’ flagship, staring at the fortress that had just been captured.

“We showed up to help thinking that they’d have a hard time. But it’s already over… Too bad.” Hearing that a fortress was about to be stormed, they’d swung by, but they’d missed their chance to turn a profit. She was disappointed.

Nathan, on the other hand, looked unconvinced. “We’re already making enough, aren’t we?” They’d fought several battles on the way there, fattening their wallets each time.

To Sirena, of course, Nathan’s words were naive. The former soldier lacked much as a mercenary. That was why Sirena went out of her way to explain things to Nathan anytime something like this happened. “You aren’t thinking like a merchant. If we’d helped take the fortress, they would’ve accepted us into their group way more easily. If we try to buddy up with them now and ask whether we can rent space in their fortress, they’ll be a lot harder to work with.”

It was good that they’d made money on a few battles, but they’d sustained damage as well. Their fighters were worn out, their ships and mobile knights battered. Sirena had wanted to take this opportunity to resupply and have some maintenance done.

Nathan absorbed all that. “I guess it’s tough being a mercenary. Isn’t it better that we didn’t help take the fortress, though? If we had, they’d probably have made us the vanguard and used us as shields.”

Having spent a long time in the military, Nathan knew how militaries tended to use mercenaries on the battlefield.

But Sirena smiled. “That would’ve depended on our negotiations.”

“Commander,” an operator called to Sirena. “A major general from the Imperial Army wants to talk to us.”

“Put him through.” Sirena stood, straightening up in front of the monitor. When she realized that this man was a noble, she made sure to be extra polite. “I’m honored to be dealing with a major general like yourself personally, Your Excellency. We’re the Dahlia Mercenaries, part of the mercenaries’ guild. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Her obsequious attitude didn’t seem to charm the man immediately. Despite her fawning, he seemed to be in a bad mood, if anything. “I just wanted to hear what you had to say, since you contacted us after we took the fortress. Showing up beforehand would’ve been a lot more useful.”

Regardless of his haughtiness, Sirena kept smiling. “I’m terribly sorry that we didn’t arrive in time. What would you say to hiring us until you get the fortress’s defense infrastructure back up and running? Rebuilding the interception system will take a while, won’t it?”

Just because the Empire had captured the fortress didn’t mean they could use it right away. They’d need time to ensure that the enemy hadn’t booby-trapped it, as well as to restore the defenses they’d rapidly destroyed. During that time, they couldn’t drop their guard, and Sirena knew that.

“How shrewd of you.” The major general wore a sour expression—exactly as Sirena had expected.

“We didn’t get here in time to help take the fortress, so we’ll pitch in and defend it for cheap,” she went on. “In exchange, could we use the fortress’s docks? We won’t ask for anything beyond supplies and maintenance.”

The major general didn’t seem surprised by any of what she proposed. He figured that she was looking to resupply and maintain her group’s craft. But since the Empire had only just managed to take the fortress, he was also anxious, so he desired as much fighting strength as he could get his hands on. “…You can discuss the details with my subordinate. I hope you’re prepared to be worked to the bone.”

“Thank you very much, Your Excellency. The Dahlia Mercenaries are at your service.”

Once Sirena had spoken those hollow words, the call ended. A nasty smile on her face, she turned to Nathan beside her. “What did you think? You’re only a real mercenary once you can negotiate something like that.”

“…I’ll remember that.”

Nathan seemed to take her words to heart, so Sirena was satisfied. “Very good.”

At that point, the Imperial Army escorted the Dahlia Mercenaries into the fortress.

***

After hiring the Dahlia Mercenaries, the major general did some work in an office inside the fortress, assisted by his secretary.

“Do you really plan to use those mercenaries?” she asked him.

“We only just retook this fortress,” he replied. “Getting it up and running again will take time; it’ll help to have as much firepower as we can get defending it. I plan to find a reason to keep House Banfield’s fleet here a little longer too.”

Even if the strike squad had finished retaking the fortress, he didn’t intend to let them leave. They’d stolen his glory, so he did want them gone as soon as possible, but he couldn’t deny the possibility that the United Kingdom would try to take the fortress again.

Just as the Empire had recaptured it for political reasons, it was possible that the United Kingdom had their own reasons to want this fortress too. And the last time the Empire alone had been defending it, the United Kingdom had taken it from them. The major general understood that.

His secretary didn’t approve, though. “I’m not sure that we can handle the Dahlia Mercenaries. They’re a rather sizable group, you know.”

“What’s the problem?”

“There was a report that the fortress contains fewer supplies than expected. Even if we don’t give House Banfield anything, I’m not sure we can resupply the Dahlia Mercenaries as we promised.”

The major general looked nervous at that. “We already let them into the fortress… And if we make enemies of them it’ll be even more trouble.”

The mercenaries had requested to resupply and maintain their craft, so if the Imperial Army couldn’t provide supplies and maintenance, that would be seen as breach of contract. In that case, the mercenaries could turn on them if the enemy came to take back the fortress. Now that the mercenaries had been let into the fortress, they could give the enemy intel as revenge if they wanted to.

“Could any inhabited planets or colonies in this sector provide supplies?” the major general asked his secretary.

“Let me see…”

As they tried to figure out a source for supplies, someone dropped by the room.

The major general allowed the visitor—one of his knights—inside. “What is it? It’s late.”

“Don’t be so cold. I’ll be quick.”

This knight had somewhat dark skin and long black hair in a peculiar style. Her clothes exposed a lot of skin. She wasn’t wearing the uniform of an Imperial Army knight, as she should have been, but no one criticized her choice of clothing—and not because they feared her family’s influence. This woman’s family had disowned her for her behavior, so she was no more than a knight. Her skills, however, were first-class.

She was the major general’s strongest close-combat fighter, wielding a thin longsword. She was a better-than-average mobile knight pilot too, and commanded the state-of-the-art mobile knight squadron that was the major general’s ace in the hole.

The woman’s name was Sylas. Since getting kicked out of her family, she’d gone only by her first name.

“You see, my men are complaining that they have nothing to do,” she informed the major general. “We’ve got these next-gen craft to play with, but we haven’t had a chance yet, right? I just want permission to leave the fortress so we can do some damage with them.”

“Do some damage…” If she’d meant against the United Kingdom, that would’ve been fine, but she likely wanted to wreak havoc on the Imperial residents of the area. She was probably planning to use the fact that it was wartime as an excuse to pillage.

“You’re our trump card. You can’t just leave the fortress,” the secretary objected. “It would help if you understood that.” Although she wore her disgust on her sleeve, she only brought up Sylas’s utility; she didn’t address the woman’s plan to loot. They already intended to seize supplies, which wasn’t much different.

The major general seemed to feel otherwise. “Can you promise you’ll bring back supplies, Sylas…?” he asked.

Sylas smiled crudely. “Of course, Your Excellency. I work for you, don’t I?”

“It’s fine, then. If you need backup, take whoever you deem appropriate.”

For a moment, the secretary was astonished that the major general had approved this; however, she quickly accepted his decision.

Before leaving, Sylas made one more request. “Oh yeah—we have mercenaries here now, right? Would you lend ’em to me for a bit? Mercenaries have a better nose for this sort of thing, you know.”

***

In the docks of the fortress they’d just retaken, Emma raised her voice. “What do you mean you can’t resupply us?! We helped take this fortress! It’s ridiculous that we can’t even get our craft maintained now!”

They’d requested supplies and maintenance, but no one had come to the docks for them, so Emma had gone to see what the holdup was.

The person in charge was chilly toward her. “Members of a count’s private army have no right to pester us for supplies! We have to prioritize supplying and maintaining the regular Imperial forces. Just be quiet and wait your turn.” The man was dressed in work clothes, and he was seemingly so busy that he didn’t even want to waste time talking to Emma.

Emma wasn’t backing down, though. “We only participated in this battle at your request, and now that it’s over, you’re just abandoning us? Central Command’s already given us our next mission! We can’t stay here forever.”

“And we’re desperate to ensure that we can defend this fortress! If you’re going to keep complaining, maybe you should just leave!”

Doug and Larry stood behind Emma as she shouted at the man, and Doug was impressed that she didn’t back down. “The captain’s really gotten to be something, hasn’t she? In this kind of situation, it’s important to assert yourself.”

Larry thought back to how Emma had acted when she’d first started. “I think I preferred her when she was nicer.”

“You say that now, but you sure didn’t make things easy for her back then.”

“Like you can talk!”

They each had their own reaction to how reliable Emma had gotten.

Just then, a woman appeared alongside a group of people who must’ve been her subordinates. She leaped down and landed gracefully, her silver hair swaying behind her, then approached the man Emma was arguing with.

“Do you have a moment? We’re still waiting for supplies and maintenance. Could you tell us what’s going on?”

Hearing the woman’s voice, Emma froze. Huh…?

The silver-haired woman had used a gentle tone, but the man she’d spoken to jumped when he saw her and her muscular subordinates. Her burly companions probably didn’t help, but it seemed like what shocked him was the status of the woman herself. His response was meek, unlike the one he’d given Emma. “If it isn’t the commander of the Dahlia Mercenaries! We’re preparing to supply and maintain your craft with all haste, so if you could just wait a bit longer…”

“Yeah, I heard that earlier… Oh, hey. It’s been a long time!” Sirena, the commander of the Dahlia Mercenaries, waved cheerfully at Emma.

Until that point, Emma had been too shocked to react, but she was suddenly furious. “You!”

She kicked off the ground and flew at Sirena. As she took off, Doug and Larry yelled after her.

“Stop, Captain!”

“Reckless as always, aren’t you…?”

Even when they called after her, Emma couldn’t stop herself. Sirena’s subordinates surrounded her and pinned her to the floor, but she began to throw them off one by one.

Sirena clapped, impressed. “You’re stronger than you were when I last saw you. You were so sweet back then, but I see you’ve gotten quite brutal.”

As Sirena needled her, Emma—still restrained by her followers—shouted, “What are you doing here?! You’re our enemy!”

Sirena put her hands on her hips and walked over to Emma, grabbing her hair and pulling her closer. “I’m a mercenary, so I can be your ally as soon as your enemy. You don’t even know the rules of a battlefield, do you? I gather you’re still ignorant—the same as back then, although you may be stronger now. What a pathetic knight…or, what was it, ‘knight of justice’?”

That was about all Emma could take. She threw the rest of Sirena’s brawny subordinates off herself. “Don’t you make fun of my dream!”

Just as she was about to grab Sirena by the hair, another hand reached out from beside her and seized her wrist. Someone had appeared out of nowhere, pulling Emma toward her and putting her in a joint lock. She’d taken Emma off guard and managed to restrain her.

“L-let go!”

However much Emma struggled, she couldn’t shake this other person off. In fact, the woman’s hold just seemed to grow tighter. The woman was behind Emma, so she couldn’t see her face, but she said into Emma’s ear, “How about you settle down?”

Sirena crossed her arms and watched as Emma floated in the joint lock in zero gravity. “Don’t let go of her, Nathan. If you do, she’ll probably pull a weapon—and if that happens, we’ll have no choice but to kill her, which’ll be such a pain.”

Sirena never stopped acting like she had all the power in this situation. Emma was stronger, but she still couldn’t compete with Sirena—nor with this other woman who’d jumped in from beside her.

Sirena looked back at Doug and Larry. “The fortress commander hired me, so I can’t really get into it with you guys. And you don’t want your commander getting in trouble either, do you?” She was telling them, “Don’t just stand there—help me out.”

Doug stepped forward. “Rein it in, Captain.”

“Doug?! But she’s—”

“Yeah, she’s our enemy, but the fortress commander brought her in. If you pick a fight with her, it’ll kick up a fuss.”

If the Imperial Army hired a mercenary group and Emma and her subordinates picked a fight with those mercenaries over a grudge, Emma would get in trouble as the instigator.

Emma stopped resisting, and Sirena’s lips curled into a nasty smile. “Do it, Nathan.”

“…Yes, ma’am.”

A second later, everyone heard the unpleasant sound of a bone breaking.

“Ugh!” Emma managed to keep herself from screaming, but sweat poured from her body.

Sirena approached her and whispered, “Now I’ll forgive you for harming my forces. We’ll be sharing this fortress for a while, so let’s try to get along, Miss Knight of Justice.”

She kicked Emma away, then left with her subordinates.

Emma spun in the air, cradling her broken right arm with her left. Now released, she could finally see the blue-haired woman who’d been restraining her. She simply glanced at Emma once before turning her back and leaving.

She’s strong… A knight? She didn’t seem like it, though…

As Emma thought about the woman, Doug and Larry grabbed her to check her injury.

“It’s a clean break,” Doug said; he was relieved.

Larry, on the other hand, was shocked. “Of a knight’s bone, though. Do they really break that easily…? Was that other girl a knight too?”

As she bore the pain, Emma watched Sirena’s group leave. “She’s right here, and I can’t even get revenge against her…” she groaned, frustrated.

“It’s basically a long shot that you’d meet her again at all,” Doug responded, then warned, “But you know, if you keep dwelling on this, it’ll only lead you in a bad direction… You’ll end up just like we were a little while ago.”

Emma’s broken arm throbbed. Maybe I’d have a chance in a mobile knight—but in person, I couldn’t even win against that Nathan woman, never mind Sirena. But next time I see her… Well, if another long shot happens, it’ll be me finally taking Sirena down.

She accepted the pain in her arm as a sign of her own weakness…and swore in her heart that she’d beat Sirena when they next met.

Chapter 11: Pillaging

Chapter 11:
Pillaging

“I CAME BECAUSE I HEARD that something was going on. What exactly have you been up to…?”

Emma was sitting in the infirmary with a cast on her arm. In front of her and her broken arm stood Alison, her expression exasperated.

The fortress had issued Emma a harsh warning over what she’d done, Alison informed her. “The commander is taking this incident very seriously. He’s informed us that, as punishment, not just the Melea but the entire strike squad will have to wait for their supplies and maintenance now.”

When Emma heard that her behavior had led to consequences for the squad as a whole, she paled. “What?!” she couldn’t stop herself from shouting in surprise—then, realizing the fault was entirely with her, she apologized. “I mean…I’m terribly sorry…”

Alison didn’t even acknowledge her apology. “I assume the fortress is low on supplies, and that they’re buying time until they can procure some.”

“Really…?” Emma looked relieved for a moment.

Alison scowled at her. “Regardless of their circumstances, you gave them an excuse. I hope you reflect on that.”

“I-I’m sorry.”

Seeing how despondent Emma looked, Alison explained the exact nature of the trouble she was in. The strike squad had anticipated that the fortress would be low on supplies, but they’d nevertheless decided that blame lay with Emma for giving the fortress an excuse to deny them. Some were demanding that Emma take responsibility for depriving them of supplies and maintenance. Consequently, the Melea had been given a mission.

“The Melea will assist with local recon. The fortress’s defenders would normally carry that out, but they’re short on numbers. Your mobile-knight company is to be ready to deploy as soon as possible.”

This wasn’t work they ought to be tasked with, but the fortress had requested the strike squad’s assistance with reconnaissance, and since Emma had caused trouble, the Melea had been saddled with the mission.

“…Understood,” Emma said, bitterly aware that her mistake had brought this on them.

Having said what she needed to, Alison left.

They’d normally have some time to rest in the fortress now, but Emma’s little stunt had given the Melea more work to do.

Emma sighed. “What was I doing…?”

She was ashamed to have lost her cool in front of Sirena. She felt all too clearly that she had yet to become the ideal knight she was striving to be.

***

The Melea—which had suffered little damage in the attack on the fortress—left on its recon mission to make up for Emma’s mistake.

On the bridge, Tim was grumbling about it. “Knights really are nothing but trouble. I thought we’d finally get a break, but now we’ve been roped into recon.”

Most of the bridge crew agreed with Tim…but they kept quiet about it. They understood Emma’s feelings too, so they couldn’t really complain.

“Even if she’s stronger now, that part of her hasn’t changed, huh?” laughed one operator. “’Course, we only heard the one side of it. Let’s just go easy on her, eh?”

Everyone knew that the fortress was only using Emma’s actions as an excuse. Tim realized that as well, of course. Still, when he’d heard that Emma was the culprit, he couldn’t help grousing.

“She should have just kept quiet,” he griped. “But she’s so full of herself lately that she just had to go complain about how long maintenance was taking.”

His complaints that she’d made a fuss to the fortress personnel out of conceit caused Alison to turn a sharp glare on him. “That’s something that should’ve been your job as the ship’s commander, you know.” She was fed up with Tim’s complaints.

Still, Tim had a point—this time, at least. “She should’ve come to me first, then,” he insisted. “Instead, she went to complain to the fortress personnel without going through me.”

“She must’ve decided that you couldn’t be relied upon, right?”

“…Guess you’ve got a point.” Tim pulled his hat down over his eyes.

The bridge crew groaned, wondering how long the awkward atmosphere would fester. Then…

“An SOS…?”

“It’s not the Empire. Not the United Kingdom either.”

“Comparing signal… The Federation? What’s their signal doing here? And ‘Mysteria’? What country is that…?”

They were picking up a distress signal, but the signature wasn’t from their own nation, nor the enemy United Kingdom; it was from an intergalactic nation called the Federation. Was another nation getting involved in this war? If so, why send an SOS?

The operator had no idea what it meant, but he reported it to Tim. “Commander, we’ve detected a distress signal coming from an occupied planet not registered with the Empire. They’re under attack and requesting aid.”

When the other crew members present heard that the SOS hadn’t come from Imperial territory, they all pulled faces, annoyed.

Tim, on the other hand, frowned sternly. “An unregistered planet? So, they set up shop in Imperial territory, flying under the radar, and now they want help?”

“Looks like it.”

The people requesting aid from them had likely settled a habitable planet within the Empire’s bounds without Imperial permission, and Alison didn’t even try to hide her disdain. “Awfully self-serving.”

They weren’t paying taxes to the Empire, so they weren’t under its protection. Yet now that they needed it, they were requesting the Empire’s aid. In Alison’s opinion, though, this planet wasn’t worth saving. “If they’re unregistered, there’s no reason we have to go to their aid. Just ignore the signal.”

But Tim disagreed with Alison’s direction. He couldn’t help wondering about the SOS. “I’m curious… Who’s attacking them? What’s the enemy’s scale?”

The operator checked the information included in the distress signal. “It says they’re facing a single company of mobile knights. They don’t have any more details than that, though. And it seems like this was sent hastily—who knows whether it’s even accurate.”

Tim made his decision. “We’ll respond to the SOS. Set course for the planet.”

“They aren’t our allies,” Alison protested. “And rescuing an unregistered planet is—”

Even as Alison voiced logical objections, Tim raised his voice—more than he usually did. “And if they’re under attack by the United Kingdom? The space pirates have already fled the area. The only groups present here capable of military force are—”

“Aren’t the attackers most likely to be mercenaries, then? It’s still fine to ignore it.” Alison didn’t want to waste what few supplies they had rescuing an unregistered planet.

Tim doubled down, however. “There’s no problem with just assessing the situation. If they’re facing more enemies than we can handle, we’ll retreat. Our mission is recon anyway, Inspector.”

It surprised Alison that he was so insistent. Eventually, she relented; she had to admit that she was curious about the situation herself. “We’ll send the mobile-knight company first.”

***

“We’re deploying? Maintenance on the Raccoons isn’t even finished!”

In the hangar, Molly held her head in her hands.

The mobile-knight company had just received orders to go do recon, but a number of the Raccoons had been scraped up in their last battle and needed repairs. Some looked fine on the outside, but had nonetheless sustained internal damage that would have to be fixed after pushing themselves in the reckless battle they’d just fought.

Hearing that the Raccoons couldn’t sortie, Emma looked up at her own craft, which hadn’t been damaged especially badly. “Good thing the Atalanta’s so sturdy. If I have to, I can go out there on my own for recon.”

Molly crossed her arms, trying to figure out whether she could finish the Raccoons’ maintenance in time. “If I disassemble a few craft for parts, I should be able to get two platoons in working order… That’ll mean fewer units overall are even operable, though.”

She considered her options, but she was having a hard time deciding whether she could get any of the Raccoons out on the field. Going too far now would only make things harder for her later.

“You don’t have to do all that,” Emma assured her. “You might not be able to reassemble the ones you took apart. We wouldn’t want to reduce our fighting power.”

“Sorry, Emma. Are you really going to go out there, though? Even if the Atalanta’s fine, your arm’s still healing, right?”

Molly looked down at Emma’s arm. The cast had already been removed, but it still hurt.

Emma smiled so that Molly wouldn’t worry. “This is nothing. I’m just as sturdy as the Atalanta. That’s what we’ve both got going for us!”

“I think the Atalanta has a bit of an edge, personally…”

As the pair talked, Ein approached them. Ein latched on to a nearby pillar, coming to a stop, and Emma turned around. “Lieutenant Kimura?”

“The Valrhona platoon’s maintenance is finished. We’ve equipped everything needed for reconnaissance and can deploy anytime.”

“You’re going to help—” Emma smiled.

Before she could thank him, however, Ein continued, “Of course. Though partly to make a statement about how current-gen models are perfect for a situation like this, since they’re so easy to maintain. The Raccoon isn’t a bad model, but when it comes to serviceability, I do think it has some flaws. If they were used more widely, I’m sure that there’d be more data, and things would improve. But I’m guessing that, at this point, they’re stuck fixing problems that didn’t come up in development. That’s not the case with the Valrhonas, though. They’ve been perfected through countless battles and are highly reliable craft—vastly superior when it comes to serviceability and consistency.”

Emma’s face twitched a bit when Ein interrupted her to deliver his long spiel. Still, she gladly accepted his unit’s help. “Th-thank you. I appreciate this.”

“You’re welcome. There’s one more thing…” Ein stood up straight in midair and saluted. “I apologize for my conduct during the fortress operation. And I prefer to be called by my first name. Now, please excuse me, Captain.”

As Lieutenant Kimura—Ein—floated away, Molly elbowed Emma lightly. “Nice, Emma. Looks like you got another one.”

Emma smiled as she watched Ein go. “I hope so.”

***

Rick watched the Atalanta and the Valrhona team prep for launch in the hangar.

“They’re going on a recon mission? They could find some excuse to skip it, couldn’t they? What hard workers.”

The Armored Nemain’s additional plating had been stripped, and its internal structure was being examined. They needed data on exactly which components had been strained in what ways during the fortress attack.

A mechanic from the development team gave Rick a nasty look. “Why not try to follow their example a little better, Sub-Lieutenant Martin?”

Completely unaffected by the mechanic’s words, Rick smiled flippantly in response. “Nothing doing—I can’t go out there without a craft to pilot anyway. I mean, my personal unit’s buck naked right now, right?”

Although the Armored Nemain performed well, it required complex maintenance after every battle. That was only natural, since it had been designed without any consideration for ease of maintenance.

The mechanic didn’t stop working but sighed. “That’s a shame. If you worked a little harder, you’d have been promoted by now, Sub-Lieutenant.”

Others pitied Rick for his low rank, but that didn’t change how he did things.

“All I care about is piloting a mobile knight anyway,” he insisted. “I’m not interested in anything else. If I were promoted, it would just mean more crap I had to deal with. Those guys really put up with a lot, don’t they?”

Rick couldn’t understand ambitious people like Emma and Ein, who just had to deal with more trouble the higher they rose in the ranks.

***

Once Emma had led the Valrhona team to their destination, she was shocked by the sight that greeted them. “What’s a ship from the Imperial Army doing out here?!”

Arriving at the besieged planet that had requested aid, they found that an Imperial ship had entered the atmosphere and descended to the surface. They’d deployed mobile knights and a landing force, and they now appeared to be attacking a small city.

Confirming the situation from space, Emma protested directly to the Imperial Army. “This is Captain Emma Rodman of the strike-squad light carrier Melea. Are you insane, pillaging a planet in Imperial territory?!”

She got a response from the Imperial Army, but the poor connection didn’t let her see whom she was talking to. She only heard a woman’s voice. “Are you? This is a battlefield. The military is allowed to seize supplies in wartime. Besides, these aren’t even Imperial citizens. They settled here without the Empire’s permission. If their supplies strengthen the fortress, what’s the problem?”

The response rendered Emma speechless. The Valrhona team was capturing footage that displayed on her monitor, so she could see the mobile knights on the planet destroying any resistance they met. That resistance mostly consisted of people in construction equipment putting up what fight they could. A landing force was carrying supplies away and loading them onto the Imperial Army ship.

This is no better than what space pirates do. Emma gripped her control sticks and gritted her teeth.

Noticing the frustration on her face, Ein attempted to persuade her not to intervene. “Captain, as revolting as it is to use the excuse, this is war. If the people living here can’t defend themselves, they’re bound to be crushed eventually. All we can do is accept this.”

The planet’s inhabitants weren’t part of the Empire, so the Empire couldn’t protect them. Even if they had belonged to the Empire, there was always a chance that they’d be attacked, so they’d be destroyed one way or another if they couldn’t protect themselves.

Ein didn’t look like he approved of this either, but he didn’t seem to believe that they could argue with the Imperial Army.

Emma hung her head, her right arm throbbing. “I’m a knight of justice,” she told herself. “I decided I’d be a knight of justice.”

“Captain?”

Emma lifted her head. “Valrhona team, you’re no longer under my command. Please return to the Melea. You tried to stop me—there’s video evidence. So you shouldn’t get in trouble, Lieutenant Ein.”

As Ein realized what Emma planned to do, his eyes widened. “Stop, Captain! You’re throwing it all away just for this? You really want to start something with the Imperial Army? It’s the United Kingdom we’re at war with! And this isn’t the only battlefield. If you cause a problem here, it could affect the whole war—”

It could affect the entire war if it became widely known that House Banfield had attacked the Imperial Army, regardless of the details. It could also destroy House Banfield’s relationship with the army. That was why Emma was trying to keep Ein and his squad out of it.

“This is my own personal decision,” she insisted. “But I can’t just…stand by and let this happen. If I do, I’ll never be proud of myself again!”

The Atalanta accelerated, entering the planet’s atmosphere and speeding toward its surface.

Chapter 12: Paragon

Chapter 12:
Paragon

ON THE BRIDGE of the flagship Vár, Christiana’s eyes stopped on one report.

When the waterfall of information spilling from the ceiling suddenly stopped, it naturally drew everyone’s attention. Just what had happened? Had some fatal wartime issue reared its head?

Paying no heed to the anxiety around her, Christiana reached toward the report. When she touched it, the information it contained—initially summarized on one page—split into detailed sections.

Christiana’s hand trembled. Her eyes filled with tears. “A distress signal from civilians unaffiliated with the Empire… A signal from the Federation…” She smiled for a moment, nostalgic, before quickly remembering that her homeland had been destroyed. “I see… So there were survivors.” Allowing a single tear to slide down her cheek, she clenched her fist over her heart.

Noticing that something was wrong, her waiting aides gathered around her. They were on standby, ready to take over if someone took a break or collapsed. Claudia was among them.

“Lady Tia? Is it an emergency?!”

Shaking her head, Christiana flipped the digital data around so that her aides could read it.

As soon as she saw the data, Claudia realized what had happened. “A distress signal from Mysteria? But why now…?”

Another aide cocked her head. “Um…what’s Mysteria?” she asked Claudia.

“…It’s Lady Tia’s homeland.”

“Huh? But wasn’t it destroyed?”

“That’s no doubt why she’s struggling to make a judgment call now.”

Reading the report, Christiana more or less understood what had happened. “Those who escaped Mysteria must be living on that planet that was just attacked. They must’ve fled to that world because it was basically habitable, despite the harsh environment…”

The people of her destroyed homeland had fled, and they now lived in hiding on a barely habitable planet. That was all there was to it, and Christiana could imagine from this report alone just how much her onetime compatriots had suffered.

Knowing that the survivors she should have protected were still suffering made Christiana’s heart seize with pain. At the same time, she was full of joy and hope at the knowledge that they’d survived. Still…

“I’ve wasted some time,” Christiana said after a pause.

She couldn’t save the people suffering as the Imperial Army pillaged. Giving up on the people of Mysteria, she went back to processing information on the war.

Claudia realized what Christiana had decided. “Are you certain about this, Lady Tia?” she exclaimed, eyes wide.

Only Christiana’s head turned back to look at Claudia. “What do you mean?” she asked coldly. “I’m commanding this army as a knight of House Banfield right now. I don’t have time to interfere with one tiny section of the battlefield.”

Christiana was stifling her own feelings. The truth was that she wanted to go help as soon as she could—and, if she couldn’t do it herself, she wanted to dispatch a force to do so. But her position didn’t allow that.

All she should care about was winning victory for the Imperial Army—for House Banfield. She wasn’t the Princess Knight anymore; she was no more than a single knight who’d pledged absolute loyalty to House Banfield’s head. She couldn’t mobilize the army for her own selfish reasons.

But her aides—including Claudia—felt completely differently.

“You have the strength and the influence to help them now, Lady Tia,” Claudia insisted. “All you need do is order someone to intervene, and you can save them.”

The other aides chimed in.

“That’s right.”

“If no one else can go, we’ll take a squad.”

“Please give us the order!”

They wanted to soothe Christiana’s regrets.

But Christiana couldn’t accept their perspective. Her pride as a commander didn’t let her. “That would waste reserve strength, hindering one battlefield or another—it would only give the United Kingdom an opening. I can’t let my personal feelings get in the way of my duties.”

She had to look at the big picture, not make decisions shortsightedly. And, as commander of the entire army, there were certain things she had to prioritize.

Still, Claudia could tell how Christiana felt. She knew that if she didn’t intervene here, she’d eventually regret it, and she dug her heels in. “You should help them regardless. If you act now, you could make it.”

“I’m here to win—to give him his victory. I’m not going to prioritize my own wishes over that.”

In the end, Christiana didn’t relent. Instead, a male knight descended from his seat and approached her. Since everyone was focused on Christiana, they didn’t notice the knight until he spoke. “In that case, I have a suggestion.”

Christiana turned around. When she saw who had intervened in her conversation with Claudia, her eyes widened. “Sir Claus…?”

The aides watched in surprise as Claus proposed a strategy.

***

On the Melea’s bridge, Alison exploded over Emma’s unauthorized actions. “She went down to the planet and engaged the Imperial Army in battle?!”

The report even shocked the bridge crew.

“Our little knight is really that reckless?”

“She’s up against the regular army.”

“This one’s going to be real trouble…”

Only Tim’s reaction contrasted with the rest of the commotion on the bridge. He normally did nothing but slouch in his commander’s seat, but now he’d stood, trembling.

“She picked a fight with the regular army…?”

When he noticed how different Tim was acting, an operator turned, confused. “What is it, Colonel?”

Tim didn’t even seem to hear the operator’s voice. He was just peering at the monitor in front of him, laughing. “Ha ha…! She really did it. That knight really did it…!” He’d only called her “knight” to ridicule her before, but now that she’d started a fight with the Imperial regular army, he felt differently. “She really started a fight with the pillaging army. What an idiot. She’s a real goddamn idiot!”

Backing down would have been the smart course of action—everyone knew that. But Tim alone was impressed by Emma’s determination to carry out her will.

While he was elated, Alison was furious. “Deploy every mobile knight you can and stop Captain Rodman!” she ordered. “If you have to, shoot her down.”

Alison was making what she judged to be the best call in the situation, but Tim just looked at her coldly. “You’d overlook pillaging, Inspector?”

Alison gazed back as if to say, “What are you even asking? Do you understand what’s going on?” She laid things out for him—speaking quickly, since she was starting to panic. “She’s up against the Imperial Army! Do you even know how much of the regular army is engaged in this war? House Banfield may be in command, but not every force out here will listen to them. And letting our forces splinter will only make things harder for everyone out here!”

What did Tim think would happen if they created schisms in the Imperial forces while fighting the United Kingdom? That would obviously make their victory much more difficult. On top of that, saving people in no way connected to the Empire wouldn’t benefit House Banfield. It would only harm them, in fact.

As Alison listed facts that were nothing but logical, Tim fixed his hat. “Restrain the inspector,” he ordered. “I’ll take command from here.”

“Wha—?!”

Before Alison could say any more, Tim gave his next order. Unlike his usual orders, he barked this one from the pit of his stomach. “Deploy any mobile knights we can, and have them support Captain Rodman! Just to reiterate, that’s my order. Don’t forget to relay that.”

Watching his actions, Alison realized what he was doing. “Why are you behaving so foolishly…? There’s no reason for you to shoulder responsibility for this.” She couldn’t understand why he’d take the blame.

Tim threw his hat away. “Given your proper discipline, I’m sure you can’t understand this, but in the days of the old military, we fought because we were proud of what we did—not because of the useless top brass’s orders. We did what we thought was right. I haven’t really thought about that in ages.”

Taking some gel out of his pocket, Tim slicked his hair back with a practiced hand. When he finished styling it, even his face looked somehow different. He’d gone from resembling a worn-out old man to looking like an old-fashioned delinquent. His hair was in a pompadour—the same way he’d worn it in his old army days. Just the sight of that thrilled the bridge crew.

“The Melea’s charging too, boys!” Tim barked.

***

Having breached the atmosphere, the Atalanta raised its multipurpose rifle and issued a warning. “This is Captain Emma Rodman speaking. Cease pillaging immediately and withdraw. I repeat, this is Captain—”

Before her warning finished, the Imperial Army ship on the planet’s surface attacked her. They evidently didn’t intend to cease pillaging.

“Teach this paragon of justice the rules of the battlefield!” The commander she’d conversed with before must have issued the order, which prompted the ship’s attacks to intensify.

“If that’s the way you want to play it…!”

Taking the safety off her multipurpose rifle, Emma began to fire, evading the Imperial ship’s attacks. She targeted its cannons and antiair machine guns until the Imperial Army’s mobile knights emerged to engage her. Most of the units looked to be Moheives.

“Moheives? Even though they’re in the regular army?” Emma was surprised to see the outdated models; she’d thought that the regular army could afford newer units. Regardless, she pulled the grip of a laser sword from the Atalanta’s side skirt and brandished it, swinging the sword down at the Moheive squad that rose to meet her.

“They’re slow!”

Since the Moheives were ostensibly allies, they were on the same comms channel as Emma, and she could hear the enemy pilots in the craft.

“That hick noble’s using all new models? Damn Banfield upstarts!”

The Atalanta used its superior speed to toy with the Moheives. Speeding past them, Emma cut off their arms and legs; they lost their balance and toppled to the ground. They could probably still have fought, but they slowly descended anyway, making a show of being taken out. It angered Emma to see them flee just because they knew they couldn’t win.

“If you’re from the regular army, take this a little more seriously!” Emma kicked the head off the Moheive that appeared to belong to the unit’s commander.

Its pilot grinned wryly in return. “We may be from the regular army, but we’re just a patrol fleet. What do you expect from us?”

Their unenthusiastic attitudes reminded her of the crew of the Melea not long ago. But despite their poor morale, there were a lot of them.

“Now that you’ve come after us, you’re done for.”

“You’re acting like a damn hero, but this happens every day on the battlefield!”

“What, you’re saying that House Banfield doesn’t pillage? Liar!”

And not only were there a lot of them, the Imperial Army pilots had gotten at least some training. On top of that, Emma’s recently healed arm kept her from going all out as usual. Every time she moved her arm, pain shot through her, and she had broken into an unpleasant sweat.

“There must’ve been other ways to procure supplies!”

As she slashed a Moheive, beams rained down from above, shooting through the other enemy Moheives. Looking up, Emma saw the Valrhona team.

“Lieutenant Ein?! What’re you doing?!”

Ein should’ve picked up on the fact that Emma didn’t want him to get involved in this fight. If he joined in himself, he couldn’t claim that he’d tried to stop her. He and his subordinates seemed to have accepted that, though.

“I’m not a fan of pillaging either,” Ein said. “And watching this undisciplined group is making me nauseous, so… Well, I’m just here because I feel like it, I suppose.”

“Because you feel like it?!” Emma would never have predicted Ein saying something like that. Even as they spoke, she was dodging attacks and kicking the Moheives.

As Ein fought as well, he explained more about why he was helping. “My father’s a soldier too, you see. He’s stubborn and hates wrongdoing. I picked this path for myself out of respect for him.”

Imitating Emma, Ein destroyed a Moheive’s head with his rifle. She was glad that he was also trying not to kill anyone.

When she realized how determined Ein was, Emma stopped arguing with him. “…Thank you. Now, let’s stop these pillaging soldiers!”

“I’m impressed that you’d issue that order when you’re only leading four units. The Valrhona team is yours to command.”

The Atalanta accelerated, and the Valrhonas followed. Passing the Moheive squad, they encountered a group of mobile knights that was seemingly just returning from pillaging.

Ein swiftly identified the craft. “These appear to be new models. The model name is…Wilder. They’re all-purpose mobile knights produced by the First Weapons Factory.”

“No wonder they look so different from Nemains.”

The Wilders’ only standout feature was their heads, which looked like overturned buckets. Their knightlike appearance identified them as characteristically Imperial weapons, and their simple, practical design came off as reliable enough for any battlefield. Here, however, they were the enemy.

The enemy pilot Emma had spoken with on the comms controlled a red Wilder, apparently a commander’s unit. Her face appeared on Emma’s monitor. “The Third Weapons Factory’s Nemain type, eh? Nice. If I beat you and prove that the Wilder performs better, I bet the First’ll reward me.”

“You’re the one from before…”

“I hate people who play at being heroes of justice, kid. Still, it feels like fate that I get to fight someone from House Banfield in this Wilder. The higher-ups at the First will probably be thrilled if I clobber you.”

“What a thing to say on the battlefield!”

“I said it because this is a battlefield!”

“Wha—?!”

“If you’re a knight too, you should understand. The battlefield has everything. Wealth, fame… If you make a name for yourself on the battlefield, you can get anything you want! A crazy place where the number of people you kill becomes the number of medals you receive is perfect for knights like us!”

“I can’t believe you!” This other knight seemed to enjoy being on the battlefield.

The Atalanta and the red Wilder sped past each other, metal longsword and laser blade sparking as they clashed. After crossing blades with her opponent just once, Emma could tell how strong she was.

“I’ll take this one!” she declared. “Focus on the others, please, Valrhonas!”

She’s strong. The Valrhona team wouldn’t be able to pin her down.

Ein must likewise have realized that the enemy commander’s strength surpassed his platoon’s. He left dealing with her to Emma. “Understood. These guys will be a pain, though. Careful, Captain.”

“Right!”

The Valrhonas flew away, and the red Wilder launched a kick at the Atalanta. Emma fell back, defending herself with the shield on her left arm. By that point, the rest of the Wilders had caught up to them. These Wilders were painted purple, and they moved in a manner that suggested to Emma that all the pilots were knights.

The red Wilder rushed toward the Atalanta. “Did you tell your allies to flee to protect them? It was pointless. After I take you down, I’ll kill them slowly.”

As they fought an aerial rifle-and-sword battle, Emma kept trying to reason with the other knight. “If you’re this skilled, how come you’re—”

“Because it’s fun!”

The red Wilder tossed its rifle aside, switching to a laser sword. Seizing the opening, Emma charged forward, but the female knight’s subordinates blocked her—and by the time Emma noticed them, the Atalanta was surrounded.

The red Wilder pointed the tip of her metal blade at the Atalanta. “Abusing the weak is the privilege of the strong! And it’s knights with a stupid sense of justice—like you—who make things hard for us!”

“The privilege? What’re you even saying?” Inside the Atalanta’s cockpit, Emma trembled.

“I’m describing this world’s laws. The strong get away with anything—even oppressing innocent civilians!” The knight laughed loudly, certain of her victory.

The subordinates around her must have been laughing too. Emma could hear several mirthful voices inside her cockpit. She hung her head and took a deep breath, then looked up once more. Her expression fervent, she exclaimed, “I don’t accept that. Knights protect civilians.”

“If you can say the same when you’re dying, I’ll be impressed. Make her wish she was dead, men!”

At the commander’s order, the purple Wilders brandished their weapons. Emma released the Atalanta’s limiters, shifting into the craft’s overload state.

“I don’t need to impress you…” she said quietly. “Come on, Atalanta.”

Electricity sparked from the mobile knight’s joints, and the magic stones contained in its clear components turned from green to yellow. The Atalanta’s output soared, the propulsion of the rocket boosters on its back redoubling, and Emma avoided all the Wilders’ attacks.

It happened so quickly that the Wilders seemed to have no idea what had happened.

“She disappeared! No, wait—she’s behind us!” the commander yelled, but by then, the Atalanta had already switched weapons. Emma had tossed aside its rifle and laser sword for her specialty—the dual handguns.

“Too slow.”

The Atalanta got behind a Wilder and slashed it with the blades on its handguns. Emma avoided the cockpit, but the Wilder still lost flight capability and plummeted to the ground.

“Insolent brat!”

The commander’s unit turned to face the Atalanta, but Emma was focused on the purple Wilders around it. Confirming the position of each mobile knight, she rapidly accelerated, taking one down at a time. She shot, slashed, and kicked off heads, and the knight’s subordinates went down unit by unit around her.

“Y-you’re crazy! What are you?!”

The female knight, clearly terrified, spurred her red Wilder into action to shake off her fear. But Emma could read all her moves.

The red Wilder swung its longsword down at Emma, who blocked the blow with the gun in her right hand. Then the enemy unit swung its laser blade sideways, but the Atalanta’s right leg kicked it. As the red Wilder lost its balance, Emma aimed her dual handguns at it.

“Let me just say one thing: No one is so strong that it’s okay for them to trample the weak.”

“Y-you’re a monst—”

Before the knight even finished the sentence, Emma shot the red Wilder’s limbs off. The Atalanta remained in place as the red Wilder dropped to the ground.

***

After besting the Moheive unit, Ein watched with wide eyes as the Atalanta entered overload mode.

“So this is the Lighting Bolt. She took down a whole Wilder squadron piloted by knights. They weren’t kidding when they said that she’s worth a whole company on her own.”

Ein had heard that Emma had earned a medal, but he’d thought that the thing about her being equivalent to an entire company on the battlefield was just an overblown rumor. Seeing this with his own eyes forced him to believe it, though.

He was even more disappointed now. “She’s not someone who should be ruined by entering a battlefield like this. If I’d tried harder to stop her, maybe she’d—hm?”

As he rued not having stopped Emma for her own sake, he noticed a new presence approaching the battlefield. For the recon mission, Ein had equipped his Valrhona with optional parts to expand his enemy-detection range. Those gave him a broader range than the Atalanta, so he noticed the interloper before Emma did.

“Captain! Incoming!”

Looking up at the sky, Ein saw a new group of enemy ships descending to the planet. They entered the atmosphere and began to deploy mobile knights.

***

In her cockpit, Emma gripped her trembling right arm with her left. “Overloading right now might’ve been a mistake…”

The strain had broken her still-healing arm once more. Emma ended the overload state, clammy from pain.

That was when Ein’s voice rang out in her cockpit. “Captain! Incoming!”

“Huh?”

She looked up and saw new ships enter the planet’s atmosphere. Mobile knights spilled out of them as they descended.

When the red Wilder’s pilot noticed them, she laughed. Her unit had fallen to the ground, but the Wilder must’ve had a superior cockpit: It had protected its pilot.

“Too bad for you, Miss Softy!” she taunted Emma. “Did you think we came here all on our own?”

“Those ships are…”

“The Dahlia Mercenaries. They’re famous! If you beat them, it’d be a sight to see!” She laughed at Emma’s predicament.

The Dahlia Mercenaries appeared to pick up their chatter as well.

“You make us your lookouts, then request our help to boot… We’ll charge you a steep bonus fee for that,” said a female mercenary’s voice.

At that, the knight laughed. “Bill the fortress. Anyway, can you hurry up and take care of these guys, Commander Sirena?”

When she heard who’d just shown up, Emma felt her hair stand on end. In her cockpit, she furrowed her brow and screeched, “Sirenaaa!”

Forgetting her pain for a moment, she gripped her control sticks with both hands. The Atalanta accelerated; Emma was, of course, headed for the mobile knight Sirena piloted.

The golden, distinctly rotund mobile knight had new arms to replace the ones Emma had destroyed. The sinister arms didn’t match the unit’s body; they had long claws at the fingertips, as well as a beam cannon and a beam gatling gun on either side.

This unit was a mobile knight Sirena had stolen from House Banfield—the Gold Raccoon.

The sound of Emma’s enraged voice seemingly delighted Sirena. “I’m thrilled that our rematch is taking place so soon! I’ll crush you into little bits this time, Miss Ally of Justice!”

The just-overloaded Atalanta and the Gold Raccoon with its swapped-out arms clashed in midair.

Chapter 13: Humiliation

Chapter 13:
Humiliation

IN THE ATALANTA’S COCKPIT, cold sweat ran down Emma’s back as she faced the Gold Raccoon and its new arms.

The timing couldn’t be worse.

Her broken arm hindered her piloting; on top of that, the Atalanta had just exited its overload state, so it couldn’t utilize its full potential. If Emma had known that Sirena was lying in wait, she wouldn’t have burned up the Atalanta’s trump card so soon.

The right arm the blue-haired woman had broken trembled as it gripped the control stick. If it were just pain, I could handle it. The problem is that I can’t exert as much strength as usual…

The Atalanta was a sensitive craft that reacted to the control sticks’ slightest tremble, and she couldn’t operate it like she typically did. Her broken right arm could only manipulate the sensitive controls up to a point. Against an average knight, that wouldn’t have been a problem, but it was a major disadvantage against a foe like Sirena—especially since Sirena knew that Emma’s arm was injured. Naturally, she began in a way that exploited that weakness.

“Oh—looks like you’re having some trouble with your right arm!”

The Atalanta’s right side was moving sluggishly, and Sirena swung her great claws at it.

As her cockpit shook, Emma leveled the gun in the Atalanta’s right hand at the Gold Raccoon and fired it on full auto.

“You’re still the one person I can’t let myself lose to!” she cried.

The Gold Raccoon used its thick, specialized armor to deflect Emma’s bullets as it approached. Sirena was taking ample precautions against the Atalanta’s hit-and-run tactics.

“I have to gain some distance…” Emma told herself.

Her low output after coming out of the overload state was still worrying her, but she tried to speed up and get away from the Gold Raccoon.

Sirena moved first, though. “Nice try!”

A wire with an attached counterweight shot from the Gold Raccoon’s sinister left arm. The counterweight adhered tightly to the Atalanta’s armor, and Emma’s cockpit shook.

“She caught me?!”

“How long did you think the same tactics would work, kiddo?!”

Now captured by the Gold Raccoon, the Atalanta couldn’t get away. The Gold Raccoon pressed the five claws on its right hand together, and their tips began to glow with heat. Then Sirena thrust the claws at the Atalanta, which couldn’t evade, forcing the unit to take the hit. The craft’s armor endured two strikes from the claws, but cracks began to form.

“Ngh!” Emma shot at the Gold Raccoon.

“That won’t work!” It ignored the damage and kept attacking.

Then the Gold Raccoon clenched its right fist, which began to spin, and struck the Atalanta. Emma’s mobile knight went flying—but since the wire still attached it to the Gold Raccoon, the other craft just reeled it back in.

“Serves you right, kid!”

Sirena went for a second hit. This time, the Gold Raccoon’s fist broke through the Atalanta’s armor, and the cockpit shook violently.

“Kah!” Emma choked on a glob of saliva as her cockpit shook. For a second, her consciousness faded.

Sirena didn’t miss that opportunity. “Ah ha ha ha! Die with your head in the clouds, kid!”

The Gold Raccoon opened its fist and thrust its sharp claws at the Atalanta’s cockpit. Emma sacrificed the Atalanta’s right arm, hastily using it as a shield. The Gold Raccoon’s claws sliced through the arm like butter.

“Took your right arm! Next, I’ll take your left!”

Sirena had evidently decided to destroy her arms, as if taking revenge for what Emma did to her before. The spitefulness she displayed was so intense that Emma found it almost strange, considering Sirena’s previous behavior. She had no time to concern herself with that, though.

“Don’t get…greedy!” On that last word, the Atalanta swiftly kicked the Gold Raccoon in the groin. Emma thought she could hear all the male pilots watching the battle hiss in response, but she ignored that and followed through on the attack.

The kick from directly below shook Sirena’s cockpit and seemed to deal at least a bit of damage to her unit.

“Ugh! Nasty move from a naive girl who calls herself a knight of justice!”

“I won’t lose to someone who only knows how to sneer at people, like you!”

Emma swiftly assessed the Atalanta’s state and found that her left leg had become unusable, like her right arm. The kick had ruined it.

At this rate, I’ll lose… But she’s the one person I don’t want to lose to! I want to win against her! Just her, at least!

***

In the Gold Raccoon’s cockpit, blood trickled from the corner of Sirena’s lips. She’d cut the inside of her mouth when the cockpit shook a moment earlier.

“It’s hilarious that you think you can beat me. Did you forget that Nathan broke your arm?” Sirena taunted Emma, wiping her mouth. Inside, however, she felt a mix of emotions. Why can’t I beat a rookie like her?! How much time and money have I put into this? I even upgraded this damn craft! I made a plan specifically to beat her! So why won’t she go down?!

She attacked the Atalanta with the Gold Raccoon’s new arms, but her foe stubbornly resisted her strikes. There was no knightly elegance to Sirena’s attacks; they were just brutish and ugly. As the two mobile knights struck at each other at point-blank range, the Atalanta displayed Emma’s powerful determination not to lose. Even being driven into a corner like this hadn’t broken Emma’s spirit.

“I might lose against you in person, but I have no intention of losing a mobile knight battle. I’ll…best you!”

“It’s wonderful that you’re so confident—but, at a point, it just gets pathetic.”

“Still, you haven’t beaten me yet.”

“Don’t mock me, you third-rate small fry!” Sirena cried.

Until now, she’d looked down on this knight, but at this point the girl had lit a fire under her. Irritation over that fact swelled inside Sirena’s heart. At the same time, she felt instinctively that, though she’d mocked Emma as a small fry, the girl had exceptional talent and would one day best her.

If I don’t finish her now, she’ll really reach my level. It’d be too dangerous to let her leave here alive.

Every time they met, Emma was tougher, as though she was still growing as a knight. She was improving far faster than any normal knight, though, her strength building rapidly; furthermore, her momentum wasn’t waning in the least. The average knight eventually hit a wall and learned some moderation. Even talented knights tended to try less hard eventually, curbing their growth to a degree. Yet however strong Emma grew, she coveted further growth. It terrified Sirena.

“Don’t be so cocky, you little gi—”

Emma cut her off. “Sorry, but I’m not young enough to call a little girl anymore.”

As they traded barbs, their mobile knights scraped at one another, compounding the damage to each.

When it comes to piloting, I still have the advantage, Sirena recognized. But the difference in our craft’s specs… She scowled at her own realization.

It was true that Emma was a talented pilot, and that she was progressing quickly enough to astound Sirena. Still, there was a difference in their experience levels. Sirena was confident that, in that respect, she was superior to Emma.

The abilities of their respective mobile knights were the problem. The Gold Raccoon wasn’t a bad model by any means, but it was undeniably the Atalanta’s inferior. No matter how Sirena improved the Gold Raccoon, the craft Emma piloted had basically been made specifically for her. House Banfield had developed and adjusted the machine for her exclusive use; it had financial and technological support the Dahlia Mercenaries couldn’t match. Sirena could only accept that, in terms of their mobile knights’ specs, she had lost.

“You’ve only gotten this far on the specs of that machine you’re in…”

“I’ll rely on whatever I have to in order to beat you.”

Sirena couldn’t help hesitating for just a moment at how ferociously Emma desired victory. She’d had the image of the old, fainthearted Emma somewhere in the back of her mind all this time, but it was totally gone now.

When did she get this strong? Damn it!

Sirena had only dropped her guard for a moment, but in the split second that she faltered, Emma pressed forward and thrust her handgun’s blade into the Gold Raccoon’s abdomen, just below its cockpit. She pulled the trigger mercilessly, ripping through the Gold Raccoon with knife and bullets alike.

“You monster!” Sirena shrieked.

“It’s over.”

Once the Atalanta severed its bottom half, the Gold Raccoon was just barely still flying, and it had lost its balance completely.

The Atalanta’s blade pressed against Sirena’s cockpit. If Emma pushed forward a bit, the fight would be over.

Sirena had lost.

“A little girl with her head in the clouds beat me? It can’t be… This can’t be!”

She couldn’t accept the outcome of the fight. If she’d lost to anyone else, she could have wrapped her head around it—but Emma, the girl who proclaimed herself a knight of justice, was the one person Sirena couldn’t bear losing to.

“No,” Emma replied. “It’s my win. And now my grudge against you is finally—”

But then the scales of victory abruptly tilted Sirena’s way. Warning shots rained down on the Atalanta from above. Looking up, Sirena saw the Gladiator—the humanoid weapon from the Union Army that her ally piloted.

“That’s enough, pilot of the Atalanta,” Nathan called down. “Your allies’ lives are in our hands.”

Sirena had been so caught up in the battle that she hadn’t noticed Nathan approach. Before she even knew it, the Dahlia Mercenaries’ mobile knight had surrounded the Valrhona team.

Emma was just as surprised. “How?! I didn’t hear any alerts!”

“The Dahlia Mercenaries are on the Imperial Army’s side at present,” Nathan responded. “Thus, we’re identified as allied units.”

“No…”

As Emma debated pulling the trigger on Sirena, the Valrhona team’s leader spoke up.

“Don’t worry about us, Captain!”

“I…have to.”

The Atalanta lowered its weapon, then tossed it away, showing that it would no longer resist. Thanks to Emma’s unfamiliarity with mercenaries, Sirena had survived.

She couldn’t honestly say she was happy about that, though. She felt relieved for a brief second, but then slammed her fist down on her controls, sick with self-loathing.

“I’m relieved to survive? Why am I so pathetic in front of this damn girl…?”

Even as Sirena wallowed in self-hatred, things were still moving. The Imperial Army raised a cheer at their newly superior position.

“Good work, Dahlia! We’ll take things from here! Hand over those House Banfield traitors to us!”

Moheives that had been hiding up until now sped toward Emma and the Valrhonas. Sirena was annoyed that the Imperial Army was swooping in and stealing her prey. If she protested, though, it would likely start another fight—with them this time. So she just watched bitterly.

“Is that okay, Commander?” Nathan asked her.

“If we get in their way, we could have a fight with the Imperial Army on our hands. We don’t fight battles we’re not paid for.”

“…You seem awfully fixated on the Atalanta and its pilot, though.”

“Just retreat already. Can you pick me up while you’re at it?”

“All right.”

As the Gladiator collected what was left of the Gold Raccoon, Sirena could do nothing but watch the regular army apprehend Emma and her teammates.

“I wanted to finish her off myself…” Alone in her depowered cockpit, Sirena shed tears of frustration.

***

“Get over here already!”

When Emma alighted from the Atalanta, Imperial Army soldiers surrounded and restrained her. One armed soldier kicked her; she tumbled to the ground.

Then the knight she’d fought earlier appeared. The woman knelt in front of Emma and sneered at her. “Don’t think that a knight in a lord’s private service will get away with defying the Imperial Army. Given what you’re about to go through, you’ll wish you were only experiencing hell. But at least you’ll have plenty of time to reflect on your mistakes.”

To the Imperial Army’s members, knights in the private service of a lord weren’t true knights at all. They only called Emma a knight because that was technically what House Banfield called her.

On the ground, Emma gritted her teeth in frustration. I didn’t have the strength to carry out my own will in the end. My dream ends here.

She felt the doors to her future closing in front of her. House Banfield would never make the effort to protect one knight—especially not one who’d indisputably been at fault, and especially not while they were at war with the United Kingdom. Having been apprehended by the Imperial Army, there was no chance of her going back to House Banfield. It would be to House Banfield’s benefit to leave her in army custody.

Just when Imperial Army soldiers started taking Emma away, Tim suddenly appeared. He must’ve raced there in the Melea.

“I’m the one who ordered her here,” he declared. “If you’re taking anyone, it should be me.”

“Commander? Wh-why…?”

Although Tim had tried to protect Emma, the female knight sneered at him. “Are you some kind of idiot? We can just take you both. If the person who did the damage wasn’t punished herself, the nobles wouldn’t be satisfied. Besides, it’d reflect badly on me.”

“Knights are always big on appearances, huh?”

“Yep. Good on you, vermin, figuring that out right before you die.”

Tim scowled bitterly.

Just then, something seemed to block the sunlight. Emma looked up and recognized it. “Is that…the Vár?”

It wasn’t just Emma who was surprised by the flagship Vár’s appearance. The Imperial Army soldiers were just as astonished. Mobile knights spilled from the Vár; as they descended to the planet, they surrounded the Imperial Army’s ship and mobile knights.

“What are you doing?!” the female knight shouted at the sky. “We’re your allies, idiots!”

A hologram appeared in the sky to reply to her—one of Claus, the force’s acting head. “This is Acting Supreme Commander Claus, relaying Prince Cleo’s words to you: ‘Your actions are unconscionable.’ As such, we’re taking you into custody.”

At the mention of Third Prince Cleo’s name, the female knight and Imperial Army soldiers all panicked.

“A-are you crazy? We’re part of the Empire’s regular army,” the female knight protested.

Claus just went on indifferently, “That’s irrelevant. Besides, your unit has been behaving suspiciously since before your recent operation to retake the fortress. We’ve decided to leave the matter to be taken care of on the Capital Planet.”

“Taken care of on the Capital Planet”—that meant “court-martialed.”

As the female knight sank to her knees, a small vessel from the Vár landed on the planet. Tim looked over and recognized right away that a VIP was inside.

“The flagship came all the way to a tiny battlefield like this?” he said incredulously. “What’s someone so important doing down here?” Everything about this was unprecedented.

Emma glanced over at the small vessel as well, curious. “How come the flagship came all the way here?”

“How should I know?” Tim scratched his temple. “Actually, it looks like they’ve got business with you, Captain.”

“Huh…?” For a moment, Emma was shocked to hear Tim call her “Captain.”

Meanwhile, landing force soldiers alighted from the small vessel and helped Emma up. Finally, Claudia emerged from the vessel. Spotting Emma, she jogged over.

“What a disaster this was, Captain Rodman.”

“Instructor Claudia… Oh—I mean, Brigadier General…” Standing, Emma tried to salute before realizing that she was still restrained and couldn’t.

“You’re the same as ever, aren’t you?” Claudia smiled wryly. “At any rate, we have things to discuss with this planet’s inhabitants. You should come along, Captain Rodman.”

“Huh?”

Chapter 14: The Aftermath

Chapter 14:
The Aftermath

A‌WAITING SYLAS and the supplies she’d bring back, the major general and his secretary took care of paperwork in his office.

“Do I really need to do grunt work like this myself?” The major general sighed. “Couldn’t I leave it to someone else? What do you think?”

As he signed off on paperwork at his desk, his secretary made him tea. He preferred a variety in a bag that took a little extra work to make.

“These documents all need your personal approval, so leaving them to someone else to do would be pointless.”

“I know. This just feels like such a waste of my time. Everyone’s time in this world is limited, you know.”

“You’re unusually philosophical today.”

“Don’t you think that it’s wrong for people to spend so much of life doing tedious things like this when they only live a few hundred years?”

“You’ll have to give me some time to think about that. Meanwhile, I do ask that you finish that paperwork.”

“…Life never goes the way you want.”

The major general gave up. As he got back to his paperwork, though, there was a commotion outside his office. The secretary noticed it as well. She drew a handgun and raised it toward the door, which soon swung open without the major general’s approval.

An armed group spilled into the room.

“Wh-who are you?! Identify your unit!”

The major general rose fearfully from his chair, identifying this as an internal insurrection. The invaders were, after all, outfitted in the powered suits that the Imperial Army tended to issue to its landing forces.

The secretary suspected otherwise, however. From the insignia on their uniforms, she realized at a glance whom the intruders worked for. “House Banfield…?”

A woman stepped forward from the pack of armed soldiers. She appeared to be a knight; she was clad in the knight’s uniform issued by House Banfield. The woman had long black hair, sharp eyes, and a slender frame. On top of that, she carried herself in a way that suggested that she was moments from thrusting a blade into whoever stood in front of her.

She stared down at the major general scornfully with light blue eyes behind red-rimmed glasses. “We’ve come on Prince Cleo’s orders to apprehend you.”

Hearing this flabbergasted the major general, who’d been trying to hide behind his chair. “Wh-why? Where is Prince Cleo’s name coming from? We’re your allies, aren’t we?! Why apprehend us when we’ve done nothing wrong?!” The major general had acted in order to disadvantage Cleo in the faction war. Still, he was an Imperial soldier, so nothing that he’d said was objectively false.

The female knight responded with a faint smile. “Do you really think you can get away now? You can’t plead ignorance to what was going on around here. Well, at any rate…you’re going to be court-martialed on the Capital Planet. You understand what that means, don’t you?”

The major general and secretary realized that they’d been beaten. The secretary dropped her gun on the floor, and two landing force members took her arms and walked her out between them.

The female knight approached the major general. “It seems that you treated our strike squad in a very unfriendly manner. I hope you’re prepared for the flight to the Capital Planet.”

The major general hung his head. For a moment, he considered resisting, but he figured that any female knight sent to a place like this had to be worth her salt. He gave up when he realized that if he made this hard for them, they might just decide to take care of him here.

Since he didn’t resist, the female knight ordered her men, “Take him away.”

“Yes, ma’am! Colonel Ethel…regarding the strike squad…”

“The main force is handling it.”

The major general was dragged from his office, just like that.

What happened? he wondered. Where did I mess up? I never thought something like this would happen…

***

Sylas and her mobile-knight unit were resisting; they were unwilling to be apprehended so easily. After all, if they were put on a ship heading to the Capital Planet, there’d be nothing they could do to avoid a court-martial.

Thus, they’d briefly feigned compliance—but just as they were about to board a small vessel, they’d used the heightened physical prowess they possessed as knights to escape.

“Everybody here?” Sylas asked. “We’re going to make it through this, no matter what.”

Her subordinates weren’t sure what to do.

“But Commander, if we run now, we can’t go back to the Imperial Army,” one said. “We should attend the court-martial and prove ourselves innocent. We haven’t done anything wrong.”

“You should tattoo the word ‘idiot’ on your head.”

“Huh?”

Sylas ignored the knight she’d insulted. She knew exactly how much danger they were in. “If the alternative is to be court-martialed, we’d be better off clinging to life by becoming space pirates,” she told them. “People on the Capital Planet live in their own little world. They don’t know anything about what it’s like out here.”

Their excuses about “wartime” wouldn’t fly with people who’d never been to war. They’d be found guilty one way or another.

“They’ll ignore the rules of the battlefield and judge things by their own rules,” Sylas continued. “And if House Banfield says they prohibited pillaging before the war started, those idiots will believe them and claim that we were in the wrong.”

Her subordinate still argued, however. “But we belong to Crown Prince Calvin’s faction. If he intervenes—”

Sylas pitied the knight clinging to the faint hope that Calvin would save them. “Do you seriously think the crown prince will help us? You’re one naive bastard.”

She considered their situation calmly. They were knights who belonged to a patrol fleet, nothing more. She knew that Calvin wouldn’t go out of his way to help them; nor would any other powerful noble in his faction. In peacetime, simply belonging to Calvin’s faction might’ve saved them, but now the faction was in the midst of a harsh conflict with Cleo’s. So, if anything, they’d be swiftly discarded for being court-martialed over something so stupid.

Having stolen weapons from House Banfield’s soldiers, Sylas hid in the shadows of some large containers, coming up with a plan of escape.

“If you want to live, you’ll do as I say,” she declared. “We’re going to steal a ship and get off this planet. I’d like to take some mobile knights if we can get ’em too, but…”

Sylas was determined to survive. She wasn’t going to give up yet. Not until several of her subordinates collapsed at once.

“Hey, be quiet, you…idiots…”

Spinning around, Sylas spotted a black-haired woman in a peculiar outfit. The woman’s long hair was in pigtails, and a red liquid had splashed all over her red clothing. She was pale and smiling, but her eyes were dark as mud, without a trace of light in them. This woman was a dual wielder; she held simple metal blades in both hands.

Although Sylas’s eyes widened, she wasn’t surprised that the woman had appeared behind her out of nowhere, nor that she’d managed to cut down Sylas’s subordinates. That was because Sylas’s instincts as a decently talented knight told her that the woman in front of her was dangerous.

The woman’s mouth opened. “I was ordered to go after the people who fled…and I was told that if they resisted, I could kill them.” She held her two blades up gleefully.

Sylas raised her hands in response. “S-sorry. I won’t resist. You can go ahead and—”

“I don’t think so. That would be boring.”

She’d tried to have herself captured to stay alive, but this woman wasn’t having it. A moment later, she cut down another two of Sylas’s subordinates.

The survivors all went pale, realizing that they were up against a monster. Some froze, while others faced the woman with their weapons drawn—she cut all of them to pieces, though.

Watching her, Sylas remembered the name of a knight who belonged to House Banfield.

“The Bloody Devil…”

Chengsi Sera Tohrei. She was a knight famous in the Empire for her love of battle—a different kind from Sylas’s. While Sylas enjoyed tormenting the weak, Chengsi preferred to face the strong. She was a nuisance of a knight who would fight and kill not just enemies but even allies if she decided that they were strong enough to challenge her.

When she heard her nickname, Chengsi studied Sylas’s face seriously for the first time. By that point, all Sylas’s subordinates were already dead.

Sylas’s legs gave out under her; she fell to the ground as Chengsi strolled up to her, arm outstretched. She looked down at Sylas, smiling. “I know about you. I heard from Claus. He said you were having fun tormenting the weak.”

“I-I’m sorry. I apologize! I’ll turn over a new leaf. Please don’t kill me!”

Sylas was desperate. Before this terrifying champion she could never hold a candle to, she realized just how small her existence really was; she apologized from the bottom of her heart.

But she was apologizing to Chengsi. “Oh, you don’t need to do that. I mean, you think bugs are annoying, right? I know exactly how you feel.”

For a moment, Sylas was relieved that Chengsi seemed to sympathize with her. Maybe she’d make it out alive after all.

But this was Chengsi. House Banfield’s bloodiest knight. “I get wanting to just squish them sometimes,” she continued. “So you’ll understand why I’m going to kill you, right?”

“Huh…?”

In the next moment, Sylas’s vision flipped upside down.

Watching her, Chengsi laughed delightedly. “Ah ha ha! I’ll report to Claus that you resisted, so I had no choice but to slaughter you.”

Chapter 15: The Princess Knight

Chapter 15:
The Princess Knight

CLAUDIA LED EMMA into a small city that had been reduced to little more than a pile of rubble. Black smoke rose from the ground in several spots, and some fires were still burning. House Banfield soldiers had come to provide aid; they were setting up shelters here and there.

“…This is terrible.” Emma wanted to cry as she walked behind Claudia.

Her former instructor wouldn’t let her, though. “Hold your head high. This much wound up intact because you kept the worst from happening.”

“I wanted to keep even this from happening.”

“Do you understand what you’re saying?” Claudia asked. She stopped and turned, her eyes harsh. She must have thought that her student had matured and been disappointed to hear her still sound so naive.

But Emma looked straight into her eyes and answered, “I do.”

Claudia smiled wryly. Emma’s answer had been brief but full of determination. It seemed she really wasn’t the same naive girl she’d once been.

“You’ve really gotten willful,” she told Emma. “I must say, I preferred you a little humbler. Is it their bad influence?”

By “their,” she likely meant Marie Sera Marian and her men. Since Claudia was fiercely loyal to Christiana, she had issues with Marie. Still, though she’d said “bad influence,” Claudia’s expression wasn’t critical.

“I was only with them briefly, but I’m grateful for all they taught me,” Emma replied. “Their training made me a stronger knight.”

Under Marie’s tutelage, she’d gained confidence. After all, Marie hadn’t laughed at her goal to be a knight of justice; rather, she’d told Emma to be more selfish.

When Emma said that she was grateful to Marie, Claudia looked as though she wanted to say something but held it in. “Don’t let them influence you too much,” she said instead. She left it at that.

Walking through the ruined city, they eventually reached an open area. There, House Banfield’s knights were speaking with the city’s representatives. House Banfield’s suggestions seemed to bewilder the city’s residents.

“You want us to abandon this planet?!” someone shouted.

House Banfield had indeed suggested that they evacuate the planet. “Suggested” might have been an understatement, in fact.

“This planet is Imperial territory,” a serious-looking knight in glasses explained flatly to the representatives. “While it has no ruling lord or magistrate, it is under direct Imperial rule. Thus, you are illegally occupying land under Imperial administration.”

The representatives were enraged to be told that they lived there illegally. And, just as House Banfield’s position was logical, the representatives themselves had a point.

“You can’t be serious! We made this planet habitable ourselves!”

They’d fled their destroyed homeland and settled a planet no one else had any interest in. Now that they’d finally rendered it habitable, they were being told to leave. There was no way they could simply accept that without getting emotional.

Still, the knight didn’t vacillate. “That doesn’t change the fact that it’s Imperial territory.”

Another representative spoke up with tears spilling from her eyes. “We can’t go back to wandering space. We only just got settled on this planet. Couldn’t you just let us join the Empire?”

The representatives joined her in asking for the Empire’s protection, saying that they’d accept Imperial rule.

“We can’t.”

Emma couldn’t stand watching how cold the knight was being toward them. “This is too much. Let me go talk to him.” She moved to protest to the knight.

Claudia stopped her. “If you want to interfere simply because you sympathize with them, don’t,” she warned. “This planet is too harsh for them to survive on anyway. If they came under Imperial rule, the Empire would have to send either a lord or a magistrate to govern them, but they couldn’t turn a profit on a planet like this. In the worst-case scenario, the Empire might just burn things to the ground here and forget the planet ever existed.”

The Empire had ignored this planet because, even if it could be rendered habitable, its environment was too harsh for humans to thrive. No noble would want to rule over this planet, nor serve as its magistrate. The place was merely a nuisance to the Empire. Yet they couldn’t simply ignore it either. If they made a special exception because of the planet’s harsh environment, allowing people to live here ungoverned, others would attempt to settle planets with comparable environments. The Empire didn’t want to set a precedent that would cause them more trouble down the line. There was a good chance that they’d simply destroy this planet and say that it was attacked by space pirates.

“What?! That’s just awful!” Emma exclaimed, but she closed her mouth when Claudia shot the representatives a pitying look.

“It’s just how things are in the Empire right now. People’s lives are treated very lightly… Although it’s hard to watch.”

Emma felt as though she understood what Claudia was trying to show her. She must have wanted to show Emma the consequences of her actions. “Is this what you wanted me to see, Brigadier General? Because I did something I shouldn’t have…?” She hung her head and clenched her fists. “Was what I did wrong?” Had this all just been for her own self-satisfaction?

Giving her an awkward look, Claudia hedged, “I haven’t given up enough of my humanity to tell you that it was a mistake. But I can say that it was rash. As your superior officer, I believe you should be harshly reprimanded for your actions.” In short, she wasn’t personally criticizing what Emma had done—but as a soldier, she felt the young knight had to be punished.

Emma could accept that. “…Yes, ma’am.”

“As a person and a knight, though…I respect what you did,” Claudia added. That conversation over, Claudia asked something of Emma. “In any event, we need to transport the people living on this planet elsewhere. We’re counting on your mothership, the Melea, to assist with transport, Captain Rodman.”

Emma was surprised by the sudden order. “Huh? Is this okay? I mean, I…” She was confused to be receiving a mission, rather than being placed under arrest.

Claudia smiled. “Our army’s too short-staffed to let you sit around doing nothing,” she told Emma.

***

Tim returned to the Melea’s bridge with his old pompadour, and the crew’s veterans were waiting there to tease him.

“Pretty stylin’ look you’ve got there, Colonel,” Doug said. “Kind of seems like you’ve got less hair than you used to, though.” He tossed Tim some gel.

Catching it, Tim fixed his hair. “You’re hardly one to talk.”

Jessica—another veteran—gave him a suspicious look, her arms crossed. “How come you suddenly got all motivated, though? Recklessly going to save the captain and all…? I could never picture you doing something like that normally.”

Tim explained his change of heart. “There was still a rebel’s spirit somewhere deep inside me. The knight…the captain, rather…helped me remember.”

Emma was the reason Tim had returned to his former self. She’d ignored orders to get her way in the past, but this time the circumstances had been different. She’d stayed true to her principles in a situation where whatever she did—if she did anything at all—was bound to be punished severely.

I thought she was just a kid who would follow her bosses’ orders. But she has the guts to carry out her own brand of justice even if she has to rebel. How could I not be excited about that…?

Back in the day, Tim had been the same. In the old army, he’d risked his life on the front lines despite receiving orders to the contrary from the useless people on top.

“The captain, you know… I thought that she was just a prissy knight, but she’s got guts,” Tim said. “I couldn’t be a coward forever with her right there.”

Doug and Jessica exchanged glances and shook their heads.

“You’re a contrarian as always, Colonel.”

“You said it.”

Tim blushed and slouched into his commander’s seat. “Anyway, hurry up and get the civilians on board,” he ordered. “We’ve got to transport ’em safely. And where’s the inspector…?”

Alison was nowhere to be seen on the bridge.

***

“I know the Melea’s a light carrier, but do we really have the space to transport refugees? The top brass just does whatever they want…”

Grumbling, Larry headed for the hangar with his things. Crew members were removing their belongings from their rooms and temporarily storing them in the hangar to make room for the refugees.

Reaching the hangar, Larry was walking along one wall when he spotted a knight he didn’t recognize looking down at the space. “Who’s that?”

The knight must’ve noticed Larry. She turned around, her long, straight blonde hair fanning out around her like a cape and her green eyes shimmering like jewels. Her skin was so completely flawless that Larry doubted for a moment whether she really was a knight. She looked like a princess. She wore a knight’s uniform, though, and she was armed with a sword, so she must’ve been a knight.

Larry wasn’t fond of knights, but the beautiful woman smiled at him, and his bashfulness won out over his prejudice.

“You’re a crew member on the Melea, yes?” she asked him.

“Er, um…yes, ma’am…” He was certain that she outranked him, so he considered what to do with the items he was carrying.

The knight smiled kindly at him. “No need to salute. Do you know when the refugees will begin boarding?”

“It should be soon. This is all a bit rushed, so I’m not sure of the exact time.” That’s why we’re so busy here. Man… She sticks out even more than the captain does. She’s like a lady knight straight out of a piece of art. The woman’s overwhelming presence kept Larry from using his usual foul language.

Out of the corner of his eye, Larry spotted some refugees entering the Melea. “Looks like they’re here now,” he said.

The knight spun around and clutched the railing, then leaned out over it. Her face held joy and relief—but they slowly changed to melancholy. Eventually, tears streamed down her cheeks.

Larry began to panic. “Huh? Uh…is someone you know down there or something?”

The knight wiped away her tears. She looked as though she’d just remembered that Larry was there and felt a little embarrassed. “I don’t think so—not someone I know personally. But I feel somewhat redeemed to know that people from my homeland managed to survive. No—that’s just an excuse. I resolved to abandon them once, so I have no right to feel any happiness over them now.”

Larry wasn’t sure what she was trying to say, but he felt like he should speak up anyway. “I don’t know your situation, but don’t you think you should go see them while you have the chance?”

He wasn’t trying to be a busybody. It just seemed obvious to him. Belonging to the military meant that if you didn’t see people when you had the opportunity, you ended up feeling a lot of regret. It was a career that involved any number of potentially final partings.

The knight understood that as well. Still, she hesitated. “…It’s enough just to see them from here.”

The knight remained there for some time, watching the refugees board, but eventually, Larry had to leave for work. At that point, he decided to be a busybody—and get a little revenge on one of the knights he so despised.

She’s really annoying me. Just hurry up and go see them.

Down on the ground level of the hangar, Larry decided to approach the refugees. In his mind, it would just be a harmless prank. If the knight got upset with him later, he could claim that he’d been trying to help her out. He’d probably get to see her look all flustered too. To Larry, he’d be killing two birds with one stone; it was nothing more than that.

He headed to the entrance the refugees were using and called out to someone at random. “Hey! There’s a knight here who says she’s from your homeland. Anyone know her?”

Those people in earshot looked up to where Larry was pointing.

“A knight from Mysteria? Could…could it be…?”

When someone noticed her, a buzz went through them. An old woman in the group began to weep. “Lady Christiana…”

The knight must’ve been famous. All the refugees were murmuring her name. When she realized what Larry had done, the woman’s eyes went wide, and she fled the hangar into the ship.

Larry watched her go with a smirk. Serves you right. He could easily imagine what she’d do next. She seemed pretty important, he reflected. Wonder whether she came in on one of those little ships. If so… “If you take that hallway, you can get to where her ship’s parked before she does,” Larry told the refugees, who were disappointed that the knight had run away. “If you want to go after her, you should hurry.”

“Thank you!”

As he watched them run off, Larry was satisfied with his little prank. However, that was when he remembered something.

“Wait. Isn’t Christiana…?”

He finally remembered that he’d actually seen this knight several times on camera.

***

Christiana attempted to return to her ship, but found that the refugees from Mysteria had reached it ahead of her.

An old woman stepped out as if to represent them. “Lady Christiana!”

When the woman called her name, Christiana hung her head, unable to look them in the eye. “…You haven’t yet forgotten me.”

The old woman approached her. “You’re safe… I’m so glad you’re safe.” She’d curled up in front of Christiana, sobbing, like she was bowing to her.

She hurriedly pulled the old woman up again. “What are you doing?!”

Christiana had always regretted her inability to save her people. Before she served House Banfield, she’d been called the Princess Knight of her planet. She was royalty, but she had chosen the path of the knight, and she’d protected her home planet of Mysteria countless times. Yet her allies had betrayed her, and she’d been captured by the Goaz Pirate Gang.

Until the head of House Banfield had saved her, Christiana had lived a cruel existence as Goaz’s plaything. Not once in those days had she forgotten the people of her homeland. They’d revered her as the Princess Knight, yet she’d been unable to protect them—although that had been her duty.

“You have no reason to cry on my behalf,” she told the old woman. “If anything, you should cast blame on me. That’s why I just wanted to get a look at you before I left…”

But a man with a mustache gripped his hat as tears streamed down his face. “I’ve been so worried about you ever since I heard that Goaz captured you,” he told Christiana. “Just seeing that you’re safe, I…”

The refugees’ still-young children looked up in confusion as this grown man wept openly.

Crying herself now, Christiana embraced the old woman. “I swear on my name, Christiana Leta Rosebreia, that I will bring you to a place where you can really live in peace. Please, let me atone… Please believe in me just once more…”

Although Christiana wasn’t able to protect her homeland, she’d now been given an opportunity to help Mysteria’s survivors. She’d even spoken her old middle name—the one she no longer used—as part of her penance.

“From now on…this time…I swear I’ll protect you,” she wept.

As Christiana cried, the refugees’ anxiety faded.

“If you tell us so, we believe you, Lady Christiana.”

“Thank you. Thank you!”

***

After parting with Claudia, Emma returned to the Melea to find Alison waiting for her. “You’ve done it now, Captain Rodman.”

Alison’s eyes were awfully cold, but Emma knew that she’d done enough to deserve it. She accepted the blame. “I’m sorry, Inspector.”

Emma saluted, but Alison walked right up to her, lifted her hand, and brought it down to slap Emma across the face. A crisp sound rang out, and nearby Melea crew members looked over. Some started to run over, but Emma’s gaze stopped them.

Emma looked Alison in the eye. “I’m ready to accept my punishment.”

“You should be! You only got out of this because the flagship showed up when it did! If this went sideways, we could’ve ended up fighting the regular army and getting completely wiped out!”

Emma had dragged the Melea’s entire crew into trouble, so Alison’s anger was only natural. “I’m fully responsible.”

“Yes. And I’ll be sure to write that in my report. Really, why are you so—”

As Alison fretted over the report she’d have to compose for her superiors, Claudia appeared, Christiana following. To Emma and Alison, Christiana might as well have been royalty. She should have been commanding the army from aboard the Vár right now. It wasn’t strange that she’d be in this area—they were technically within the war zone—but there was no reason for her to descend to this planet in person. What was someone of Christiana’s standing doing here?

Despite their confusion, Emma and Alison hurriedly saluted.

Christiana, whose eyes were a bit red, waved sunnily at Emma. “You’re Captain Emma Rodman? I’ve heard all about you from Claudia.”

“Lieutenant General Christiana… I-I’m terribly sorry about all this!” Emma blurted.

Though Alison was equally surprised to see Christiana here, she handled herself a little more calmly than Emma did, thanking Christiana for her help. “We would’ve been in trouble without your intervention, ma’am. Thank you for saving us.”

Claudia remained silent, but Christiana turned to Alison. “It’s only natural that we’d help, since you discovered a fleet engaged in prohibited activities. You seemed to be reprimanding Captain Rodman just now. May I ask what for?”

By “reprimanding,” she meant the slap; she was asking why Alison had slapped Emma.

Both Emma and Alison found this strange. Emma had done something incredibly dangerous, so it made sense that she’d be reprimanded.

“Ma’am, Captain Rodman engaged the Imperial Army in combat without prior approval,” Alison answered without hesitation. “It was a grievous mistake that could’ve endangered the Empire’s very—”

As Alison stated what she thought went without saying, Claudia looked at her sharply from behind Christiana. “Captain Rodman did nothing more than correct a serious misdeed. She was in no need of a reprimand.”

“Huh…? B-but we’re—” They were in the middle of a war with the United Kingdom. Emma’s actions could have divided their forces.

Claudia didn’t seem to think that it had been dangerous at all, though—and Christiana evidently felt the same way. “You were a candidate for Lord Liam’s adjutant at one point, weren’t you? I hear that you’ve been very active aboard the Melea as well.”

Emma hadn’t realized that Alison had been in the running to assist Liam. She was that important?! Any potential adjutant for the head of House Banfield would be an elite among elites. Emma recognized that Alison was of high standing, but she hadn’t thought that she was that impressive.

Alison looked proud at Christiana’s compliment. “Thank you, ma’am. I’m currently acting as an inspector aboard this ship.”

But Christiana stopped smiling and added, “You seem a bit narrow-minded, though.”

“Huh…?” For a moment, Alison seemed unable to process what Christiana had said.

Thus, Christiana offered a hint. “You’ve got the wrong idea about this war,” she told Alison. “What you said to me would have been correct if you only needed to take this one battlefield into account—but, in this case, Captain Rodman was in the right.”

“But—she didn’t do anything praiseworthy! What she did certainly can’t be called right!”

Since Alison was confused, Christiana explained the matter further to her. “You’re keeping a close eye on things. I acknowledge that you’re talented. But you lack a good grasp of the full picture. That’s all.”

“The full picture…?”

Neither Christiana nor Claudia seemed to intend to say any more.

As for Emma, she understood even less than Alison. She’d been perplexed from the very start of this exchange. “Huh? Wh-what I did was right? But… Huh?!” She had thought that she’d acted wrongly, but now the top brass was telling her otherwise to her face. How could she be anything but bewildered?

Claudia was exasperated with her, but Christiana giggled, amused. “Just in this one instance. Don’t think that you’d get away with it next time.”

“N-no, ma’am.”

Seeing that Emma was still confused, Christiana gave her a gentle look. “I’ve kept an eye on you since Alias,” she told her. “I didn’t think you’d come this far in such a brief time.”

Alias was the first planet Emma had been dispatched to. “Do you mean…?”

As Christiana left, she called back to Emma, “Keep up the good work, Major Rodman.”

After she and Claudia had gone, it took Emma about thirty seconds to realize that she’d received a new rank. “Huh?” she said belatedly. “Was I just promoted?! It wasn’t some kind of mistake or joke?!”

“It wasn’t a mistake, and it wasn’t a joke,” Alison told her. It irritated her just how slow on the uptake Emma was. “I knew you had connections in high places, but this is too much. Why are you still on this experimental engineering ship?” Her voice was louder than usual—she must’ve been that upset.

Emma frowned. “Because the Melea has a good crew!”

“Like you know any other ones! And how come you got promoted to major before me when you caused this mess in the first place?! You’re so irritating!” Alison didn’t mince words as she criticized Emma.

But Emma now had much thicker skin than when she’d first started out. She put her hand to her mouth in an affected, mocking way. “Well, I’m so sorry that I got promoted before you, Captain Alison!” she said, placing heavy emphasis on Alison’s rank.

Alison’s fists trembled before Emma, who was now the inspector’s superior. “…You’re nastier than I thought you were. I think you should work on being more likable.”

“This coming from you?” Emma deadpanned.

Bonus Story: Alison’s Bragging

Bonus Story:
Alison’s Bragging

HOUSE BANFIELD’S DAMAGED SHIPS were returning to their home planet of Hydra under escort. They headed for a warp gate that would take them on a long-distance jump, leaving the Paros star system to lick their wounds back on Hydra. Among these vessels was the Melea, transporting survivors from the destroyed planet of Mysteria.

The convoy had already left the Paros star system, so at this point, the mood on the bridge was relaxed. After all, they were under other ships’ guard for once.

“Man—not only did she avoid arrest or execution, she got promoted. Captain Rodman’s a lucky gal. No, wait—I guess it’s Major Rodman now.” Tim, who was now sporting his old pompadour again, checked his hair in a hand mirror. Although he’d brought up Emma’s promotion, he hadn’t done so in the sarcastic way he might have before.

“We’re still on duty, Commander,” Alison huffed, her demeanor contrasting visibly with his good mood.

“Oh. Sorry about that, Inspector.” Tim put his mirror back in his pocket. He sat down in his commander’s chair again, his back straight. Then he resumed talking about Emma. “I guess politics were involved in the situation, so it was complicated. Still, it was pretty generous of them to promote her, don’t you think?”

Alison kept her back turned to Tim as she remarked, “…She’s rather well-liked, isn’t she?”

“I’m not sure how I feel about a knight stationed under me having the top brass’s eyes on her, you know? Are they keeping tabs on her ’cause of what happened on Alias?” Had Emma risen this high thanks to her performance there?

Alison still despised Tim—but this subject interested her, so she took the bait. “I was curious at one point, so I looked into that.”

“Oh?”

“Back when she was a sub-lieutenant, Major Emma Rodman held the lowest knight rank—D. I thought it stood to reason that she was sent somewhere less-than-promising soldiers went. But…”

“Yeah.” With some nostalgia, Tim thought back to when Emma first joined them. “When they said they were sending me a knight, I wondered what kind of problem child I’d get.”

Uninterested in Tim’s musings, Alison went on, “It’s true that Major Rodman accomplished much on that first mission, but what bothered me was that they sent her the Atalanta even before that happened. At the time, it had been deemed a failed prototype, but it was still quite an expensive piece of technology. It would never normally have been sent somewhere like Alias.”

“Yeah…we were curious about that too. Weird that she’d have had connections up top even back then.”

If Emma didn’t have any special connections, there was no way to explain that situation. But if she was well-connected, then why had she been sent out to the middle of nowhere? Just what was going on there?

“After that, she contributed to the Atalanta’s development, as well as achieving quite a bit on various other missions,” Alison went on. “During those missions, she established personal connections with high-ranking people, so it’s not strange that she’d been promoted to major by now. Still…”

“Something bother you about it?”

“One of her connections, Lieutenant General Marie, is a rather significant figure among our knights. The same is true of Lieutenant General Christiana, who helped her this time.”

“So what? She’s just got a personality that attracts bigwigs? Jeez. I’m jealous,” Tim quipped. Despite his words, his expression made it clear that he didn’t think highly of people with well-situated connections.

Alison turned around to emphasize her next point. “Those two women are in fierce competition for the head knight role in House Banfield. It’s hard to imagine that they’d both support the same knight—both give her preferential treatment. In fact, if she cozied up to both of them at once, she could lose her standing within the entire order of knights.”

“It’s hard to picture the major as an opportunist like that. But that does make things even more strange.” Tim sighed. It seemed that Emma was an exception among exceptions. “Come to think of it, on a mission earlier, the actual head knight seemed to like her too. She might just be special like that.”

Alison turned her back to Tim again. “It really is enviable. If I were Major Rodman, I’d probably be a lieutenant colonel or colonel at this point. She’s so thickheaded not to realize how blessed she is.”

Emma couldn’t understand her own value, and Alison couldn’t stand that.

“Well, everyone’s got their own priorities. It seems that Major Rodman was envious of you.”

“Me?”

“There’s a guy in the major’s platoon—Doug—who’s an old friend of mine, you see. I guess he heard her say something about being jealous that you were almost picked as the count’s adjutant. She’s pretty devoted to the count, that one.”

Alison turned around, looking happy to hear that. “Now that’s good info.”

***

“Lord Liam served in the military at the same time I did. And the army assigns adjutants to counts to handle their personal needs, right? So they gathered army officials from House Banfield who were studying abroad—like me—for that role.”

Emma and her squad had been eating in the pilots’ lounge, since the Melea’s mess hall had been given up to the refugees. Then, out of nowhere, Alison had shown up and started bragging over things no one had even asked about. Everyone listened with little more than confusion—except Emma, who wore a strained smile.

“O-oh, really?” she said, the words sounding forced.

“A noble’s adjutant gets so involved in that noble’s personal business during their military service that a lot of them are pulled from the military afterward to keep serving the noble that way. It’s not rare for them to become concubines either. In that case, someone from somewhere else entering House Banfield could cause trouble. That’s why talented people who were originally from House Banfield, like me and the others, were chosen.” She emphasized the word “talented” heavily.

Doug and Larry started to whisper to each other.

“Is she harassing the major, Larry?”

“Could be. The major doesn’t exactly hide her obsession with the count.”

Emma must’ve heard them, because she turned red and objected, “I-I’m not obsessed! I just said that he’s my ideal! He’s a really impressive person, okay?! What’s wrong with admiring him, huh?!” The way she protested made it blatantly obvious that she was downplaying things.

“Right, right.” Doug sighed.

Amused by Emma’s reaction, Alison launched another attack. “I was selected as a candidate for that prestigious post. In short, House Banfield judged me talented enough to serve directly at the count’s side. Do you understand what that means, Major Rodman?”

Alison could have been assisting the count with personal business—which, in the Empire, included certain relations between men and women. That meant that House Banfield had explicitly approved the possibility of such a relationship between Alison and Liam.

Emma clenched her fists, clearly overcome with jealousy. “B-but you weren’t chosen as adjutant in the end, right?!” she demanded insistently.

The truth was that she was jealous that Alison had even been picked as a candidate. Admitting that would only delight Alison, though, so she kept it to herself.

Alison conceded Emma’s point with some disappointment. “There was nothing I could do. They ended up choosing someone the count was already connected to. And I admit that she was the more capable individual, but… Well, what I’m trying to say is that I’m better than you, Major Rodman.” She smiled victoriously.

Meanwhile, Emma trembled, her eyes wide. She must’ve been beside herself with frustration. “Aren’t you embarrassed to brag about your accomplishments like that?”

“It’s not bragging. It’s just the truth.”

Watching the pair, Doug sighed again. “The colonel’s great-granddaughter sure has a strong personality.”

Larry, meanwhile, couldn’t get over the way Tim came off now. “Speaking of the colonel, what’s with that pompadour? Was that his style before?”

“He used to shave his hairline to make it even more intense. He doesn’t need to do that anymore, though—it’s receding on its own now.”

“The march of time is sad indeed. You should watch out for that too, Doug.”

“Larry…you know you’ll be on the same path one day yourself, right?”

As the two men conducted their own unique conversation, Emma continued to bicker with Alison beside them.

“I outrank you, you know, Inspector! Show your superior officer some respect, would you?! I thought you cared about the rules!”

“You think you’ve won? I report to Central, and you’re just some outlaw! What a laugh! I’ll surpass you in no time, and then you’ll work for me!”

Their conversation was getting so heated that it was starting to scorch each woman’s very image.

Bonus Story: Emma Rodman Rises Through the Ranks

Bonus Story:
Emma Rodman Rises Through the Ranks

EMMA RODMAN’S RANK WAS CAPTAIN. In a mobile-knight unit, that meant that she could command a company comprising several platoons, and that was exactly what she did aboard the light carrier Melea.

In other words, Emma had many subordinates.

The small office she’d received when she was made a company commander contained only a desk and chair. The room was just meant for paperwork; nonetheless, Emma now found herself at the desk with her head in her hands.

“There’s too much paperwork…”

The previous company commander had retired, so she’d taken over his paperwork along with his position. The Melea did have a department that handled most of the vessel’s paperwork, but Emma still had to do a certain amount as the mobile-knight company’s commander.

When she started up her tablet, a mess of documents requiring her approval spilled from it, blocking the wall behind them from view.

“Eep! This much again today?! I still need to make the training and testing schedules!”

On top of the usual paperwork, Emma had to manage the testing of new craft, since the Melea was an experimental engineering ship. Development teams who came to the Melea requested as much practical training time with other mobile knights as they could get. On the other hand, Emma’s subordinates complained to her that they had no time for their own training when they had to accommodate all this testing. Managing this conflict’s two sides was part of Emma’s job.

“This is crazy! It’s crazy! I’m a captain, you know? Aren’t they asking a little too much of me?!”

Emma wished there was a superior officer to foist all this onto, but she was already in pretty much the highest position there was aboard the Melea that was connected to its mobile knights. If a field-officer-ranked knight had been aboard, Emma wouldn’t be buried under quite so much paperwork, but there were no plans to add anyone like that to the crew.

“I’d rather do backbreaking training than this!”

Emma groaned to herself as a new message arrived on her tablet. It contained a request from one of the Melea’s development teams. Thanks for all your hard work. Sorry for the short notice, but could we move up the scheduled testing a bit? HQ requested that we try a new part ASAP, so we’d like to get that done as soon as possible.

The long message boiled down to an unreasonable request to test as soon as the next day. By the time she’d finished reading it, she was receiving another message from her subordinates—or rather, from Doug, who was acting as their representative. Captain, it feels like simulator runs are all we do lately. What would you say to some practical training? Everyone’s getting on my case about it. Help me out, would you?

Emma let out a hollow laugh over the conflicting messages. “Ah ha…ah ha ha ha!”

***

The next day, Emma was in the Atalanta, chasing down both prototype units and her subordinates’ more standard mobile knights.

“If you can stay away from the Atalanta, your training will be complete!” she declared. “And if you’re shot down, you’ll get some special training after this!”

Emma chased her allies around gleefully, her eyes wide in her cockpit, as if venting some day-to-day stress.

“Once I shoot you down, let’s all sweat together in training! Don’t worry—I’ll participate, too! We’ll sweat until we pass out from exhaustion!”

From the cockpit of his Raccoon, Doug watched Emma shoot down his allies mercilessly. “The captain’s lost it!” he shouted. “Everybody run!”

Afterword

THE EXPERIMENTAL ENGINEERING SHIP got to carry out its true mission at last in Volume Four! Man, it took a while to get here. Plus, Emma finally managed to whip the unit into shape after being stationed on the Melea! I’ve heard that some readers start with the afterword, so I’ll leave the spoilers at that.

Here’s the important part: There’s a ton I’d like to write about, like how this version of the series introduces more antagonists than the web novel, or how cool the new Raccoons are. But although I’d like to go into that stuff, I really need to focus on something else this time:

The main story behind this spin-off, I’m the Evil Lord of an Intergalactic Empire!, is getting an anime adaptation! It’s all thanks to you, the readers, who supported both the spin-off and the main series. Thank you so much.