Reconnaissance

Another week had passed since then.

I had finally managed to wrestle the domestic and foreign public opinion back under control after the whole mess had blown up, and was just about to let out a long-overdue sigh of relief—when it happened.

"Your Excellency, the experiment was a success."

The report landed with all the oily flattery of a sycophant informing a dictator that his secret nuclear test had gone off without a hitch. And right on the heels of that, a brand-new event message slammed into existence and completely blocked my vision.

—Ding♪

The familiar chime rang out. I shoved the event message that had been shoved right up against my face out of the way and began reading the new one carefully, line by line.

Another choice event, huh.

And of course it had to be one of those mixed with a "random" event. A quiet sigh escaped me. Random events were the kind of thing that never let you guess what was about to jump out and bite you.

Fortunately, this time there was a safe-looking option. I went with Choice 2.

I released the pause.

"Understood. We'll deploy the research drones first, then."

Through the live comms link I watched the survey team start feeding the drones through, and a thought suddenly struck me.

Wait… isn't this the kind of thing the survey team should just handle on their own without turning it into an event?

If an event was going to land on my desk, shouldn't it at least be asking me what to do after the drones went in, not whether to send drones or people in the first place?

The thought filled my head for a moment, but I forced myself to stop dwelling on it.

Most of these events dump every single decision on the player anyway. It's a little late to start expecting anything different…

Of course, once this was over I fully intended to fire every last member of that survey team. If they had to ask me one by one whether to send drones, they weren't a survey team—they were organic drones themselves.

With that cheerful thought, I watched the feed from the cameras mounted on the drones…

—"Gate breach commencing."

The moment the survey team finished speaking, the drone feed cut out completely.

Granted, every form of communication and radar went dead during a gate transit or hyperspace jump, so the screen should have come back online soon enough…

One minute. Two minutes.

Five minutes passed, and the screen never lit up again.

—"P-please wait just a moment."

The survey team, their flustered panic audible even over the comms, started frantically working their consoles. Not long after, they reappeared looking like a rain-soaked Chihuahua, trembling from head to toe, and immediately bowed their heads toward me.

—"Our deepest apologies, Minister! All of the drones we sent into the gate have lost contact!"

"…"

—"We have wasted Imperial assets for nothing. There is nothing we can say in our defense!"

—Tremble, tremble.

A middle-aged man who looked reasonably imposing was bowing and shaking in front of someone who barely looked twenty. If an outsider had seen the scene, they might have thought a parachute-dropped chaebol third-generation heir was bullying some poor, innocent middle-aged family man.

Riel, standing nearby, seemed to think much the same thing; from a blind spot outside the camera's view she shot me a look and a subtle gesture that said it all.

I let out a long sigh and spoke again.

"It's not that big a deal. Happens all the time. Don't worry about it too much."

—"…!"

"Before you start apologizing, how about sending more drones and gathering some actual data…?"

—"As you command, Minister! We will follow your orders to the letter!"

—Communication terminated.

The moment the link closed I called Riel over from her blind spot.

"Riel, is that guy a noble?"

I pointed at the survey team leader who had just been on screen. Riel thought for a second, then nodded.

"Yes, digging through the database shows he's a classic aristocratic parachute appointment, yeah… But he's younger than you, Minister?"

"…?"

"That look of his is because of a genetic disease in his noble house that accelerates aging, so he looks older. Actually he's a full ten years younger than you, yeah."

Interesting…

With that single piece of information I finally understood why the man who had somehow risen to lead a survey team had needed to ask me about something as basic as deploying drones.

He really was a complete newbie.

Realizing that, I felt a twinge of pity for the middle-aged ahjussi—no, the kid who had just aged way too fast. Thanks to that, I quietly shelved my plan to fire the entire survey team… or rather, to "reassign" them.

Still, I made a mental note to find out exactly who had parachuted this guy into the position and have a nice, deep conversation with them sometime soon.

But a moment later I learned, via another incoming transmission, that I no longer had the luxury of thinking about any of that.

—"M-Minister Arto! Just now we tried to send thirty-five drones through simultaneously for a proper search, but… for some reason the moment they entered the gate they all vanished!"

"…All thirty-five?"

—"Yes, sir! Every last one!"

One or two I could have understood. Maintenance failure, bad luck with spatial distortion, operator error—any of those would have been perfectly reasonable explanations for a few units going dark.

But thirty-five?

Thirty-five top-of-the-line research drones, built with the Empire's absolute best technology and designed to function under any conditions imaginable, all failing at the exact same instant?

The odds of that happening were roughly the same as Riel's growth plates suddenly waking up and making her taller.

Faced with something that absurd, I was about to order the survey leader to dig deeper into the situation when—

—Ding♪

The new choice event floated up in front of my eyes. I didn't even hesitate before slamming Choice 2.

Choice 1 is an obvious trap. No way I'm throwing a research vessel and a bunch of scientists into a meat grinder.

Whatever was waiting on the other side, anything that could simultaneously wreck thirty-five ultra-high-end drones was not something to take ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠lightly. Or maybe the space beyond the gate simply couldn't maintain a communications link with this universe…

Either way, I re-requisitioned the research battleship that had been dumped on the local planetary defense force and was currently serving as their flagship.

"Aigoo, no, please no! If you take our flagship, what are we supposed to do?!"

"It was never your ship in the first place."

…I decided to pretend I hadn't seen the planetary defense force wailing like street vendors being forcibly cleared out.

I sent the ship straight toward the Kardian Black Hole so it could finally return to its original purpose after far too long.

—"At last the day has come for this vessel to fulfill its true role."

"That's right. I'm counting on you."

—"Have no fear. With this ship's performance, we could survive even against a dragon."

"Don't go looking for dragons. Just find out what it's like on the other side of the gate and come back."

I watched the heavily armed, absurdly durable research battleship—far too well-armed for a research vessel—slip through the hole in the gate. Then, trusting that it would bring back useful information, I went to bed and waited for morning.

But the next morning, the first thing that greeted my eyes the moment I woke up was…

…What the hell.

A disgustingly expensive research battleship, built with mountains of resources, capital, and time, had been reduced to less than scrap in a single day. What a delightfully refreshing piece of news to wake up to.