It Was Far Too Large to Be Called a Battleship
It was far too large to be called a battleship.
“So then, Arto—you’ll take care of this one for me, won’t you?”
“Mm.”
“Handle it well. If things go smoothly, we might even get our hands on a few scraps of Dark Age technology.”
After a fair amount of back-and-forth, I finally secured Artraia’s approval for the operation. I returned straight to the Foreign Executive Ministry, rounded up the fanatics who had been holding their demented gatherings in the basement, and packed them onto a shuttle without delay.
“Please wait just a little longer!”
“…”
“If I just push a bit more, I can make them admit that our Minister is even greater than Ambassador Samiya…!”
“Can we please stop turning everything into a pride contest?”
Once those lunatics were stuffed into the shuttle, I turned to the last two boarding: Meteorn, newly appointed commander of the Purge Squad, and Gran, senior-most officer of the Prosnark Marines. I gave them a brief rundown of the situation.
“From this moment on, you are a joint special unit of the Holy Sevelian Empire and the Prosnark Coalition. Keep that firmly in mind when you carry out the mission.”
“Yes, sir! Understood!”
“At last the hour has come to fill a spirit-ship with the fighting spirit of marines!”
“When you arrive, an advance team I sent ahead will already be on site. Make contact with them, gather the latest intelligence, then move.”
“Understood, Minister.”
“Is that so? The Sevelian Empire moves faster than I expected.”
Thankfully, Marine Commander Gran already stood out as markedly more normal—and more grounded—than the zealots shouting about fighting spirit and spirit-ships. Looking at the two relatively sane men, I silently prayed they would keep the rest of the unit under control.
Gran noticed my expression and tilted his head, clearly puzzled.
“Minister Virtorius? If it isn’t too forward, may I ask one question?”
“Hm? What is it?”
I wondered if he was worried about some hitch in the operation. Gran glanced around, then spoke.
“Where has that small aide of yours disappeared to?”
“Riel? Why are you looking for her?”
“Nothing important. It’s just… when someone of your rank personally briefs us, it feels a little… odd.”
I found myself nodding at that.
“Sometimes things just work out this way. Once you link up with the advance team, report back.”
“Understood, Minister Virtorius.”
A short while later I watched every last member of the joint force vanish into the sky aboard their shuttles. Only then did I step back inside the Foreign Executive Ministry.
“Minister?”
“Sorry, Riel.”
The moment I laid eyes on her—battered between the two groups of fanatics and thoroughly blackened in mood—I offered a swift apology. It was purely out of pity for her, of course. It had absolutely nothing to do with the vicious-looking claw in one hand, the spike-studded mace in the other, or the wolf pelt she had somehow draped over herself while glaring daggers at me.
After sending the joint force on its way, life settled back into its usual rhythm.
“Still no report, yeah?”
“Common sense, Riel. They’re heading to the other side of the galaxy. It can’t possibly be here yet.”
I handled ordinary paperwork, traded leisurely banter with Riel, and occasionally conducted educational seminars involving water and fire for those who dared sell imperial secrets or commit other creative acts of stupidity.
“Gyaaaaaaah!!!”
“Next you’ll tell us the location of your organization. One… three!”
“Blub-blub-blub-blub…”
It was all so ordinary, so uneventful, that only one thought crossed my mind.
Peaceful.
Even with every Prosnark secret I’d heard, even with the Precursor Empire branding us heretics and preparing to crush us, even with chaos swirling on the far side of the galaxy and my Purge Squad–Marine combo about to deep-strike a Dark Age vessel—none of it felt immediate. It all just… sat there, ordinary.
Burnout, maybe.
Moments like this made me understand why the game let you skip days or months at a time. By game standards the current situation should have been edge-of-your-seat thrilling. Living it day by day after transmigrating, though, even the slowest game speed never dragged quite this much.
With that thought I left the “lecture hall” and returned to the Foreign Executive Ministry.
“Riel.”
“What is it, yeah?”
“Why does the world move so slowly?”
I found myself venting the inexplicable emptiness to her. Riel, for a humanoid, managed the remarkable feat of making a vein throb visibly on her temple.
“Heh. Alina and I and the rest of the office slaves are optimizing your workload, and you still manage to say something like that, yeah?”
“Ugh.”
“Isn’t that a little too brave a statement, yeah?”
“Sorry.”
She was right; the remark had been careless. I apologized quickly and threw myself back into work. Not long after, however, the need to grind through ordinary tasks and feel the burnout vanished entirely.
I was clearing the mountain of files on my terminal one by one when—
Ding♪
—the distinctive chime sounded, and the long-awaited communications report finally connected.
Crackle… static…
The moment the link established, the screen in the corner of my office filled with the characteristic noise of hyperspace transmission. Immediately afterward:
Ancient Vessel
The special unit you dispatched has successfully reached the vicinity of the Dark Age vessel.
Having linked up with the advance team and acquired intelligence on the surrounding star system, the unit is preparing to deliver its first report to you.
“….”
I hadn’t even received the report yet, and the event message had already spoiled the entire contents. The sheer absurdity left me speechless.
—“Link established!”
—“Minister, may we begin the report?”
Look at that. After so long without contact they were tense without realizing it. Meanwhile the man receiving the report had already been spoiled by the system. Still, I couldn’t exactly refuse. I gave a small nod of assent. Maybe the event message had summarized things so roughly that the actual report would differ.
—“Yes, sir. Beginning report immediately.”
—“We have successfully linked up with the advance team you dispatched earlier. We are currently constructing a base camp in the planetary system containing the target vessel.”
“Mm.”
—“Furthermore, the advance team’s operatives have already completed an interstellar chart of the system, so additional reconnaissance appears unnecessary.”
“Is that so? Any further reports?”
—“That is all, Your Grace.”
I truly had not expected them to recite the event message almost word for word. The sensation was impossible to describe. I ordered them to prioritize seizure of the vessel unless given further instructions, then cut the link, hit pause, and tried to collect my thoughts about this thoroughly bizarre situation.
Meanwhile, at the very moment Arto was busy making a fool of himself—
Inside a certain compartment of the vessel that Arto and the other empires regarded merely as a Dark Age ghost ship—
“…Power source check.”
> Ship power-source residual energy check… remaining energy: 3%
> Due to power-source depletion, majority of ship armaments offline. External shielding inoperable.
> SOS signal broadcasting to home nation. Response signals: 0
A young girl’s voice rang out, and a calm mechanical reply laced with beeps answered her.
“Haa… At this rate we really will become a ghost ship.”
The machine’s beeping guidance filled the girl’s voice with nothing but lament and sorrow.
> Beep.
> Unidentified small craft approaching this vessel.
“Again…? I’ll just drive them off moderately.”
The girl’s reply to the next mechanical tone carried a mixture of irritation and grief.
> Turret 3 commencing return fire. Hit. Hit. Evaded. Unidentified vessel evading, withdrawing.
At the subsequent report the girl let out another long sigh and muttered under her breath.
“Haaa… I really hate fighting.”