The Ancient Ship (4)

The Prosnark marines had gone and beheaded a Precursor soldier on the spot, but that changed nothing about the situation.

If we failed to respond, they might well blow the ship and our troops to pieces together. To avoid ending up like that, we had no choice but to hunt them down and crush them, whether we liked it or not.

Of course, the severed head had only been a hologram, yet having something fly straight through my body still hadn't been a pleasant experience. At the time, it had given me a modest jolt.

But honestly? After lecturing spy bastards on the chemical composition of water and fire, turning crustacean aliens into live lobsters, and assembling a symphony orchestra out of cat-like aliens—after seeing every unspeakable sight imaginable as Minister of the Executive Ministry, head of the secret police—I suppose I'd grown numb. When I woke up, the emotions from yesterday had melted away like snow. All that remained was the flat indifference of another day spent living the joyful life of an office slave.

"Are you all right, Minister?"

Naturally, humanity's best friend—Riel the humanoid—greeted me the moment I rose with a look of genuine concern.

"Don't worry, Riel. My mental state isn't so rotten that I'd make a fuss over something that small."

Feeling I'd caused unnecessary worry, I answered with exaggerated bravado and brushed her concern aside.

"I figured you'd say that. So here's the work that needs handling this time."

"…"

And the instant I responded, she dumped a mountain of tasks on me. I felt a surge of pure rage welling up inside.

Evil, vicious, hate-inducing intelligence of the highest order.

As expected, the level of hate-inducing intelligence never dropped. I grumbled endlessly under my breath even as I started working through the pile as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"See? No matter how much you complain about hating it, Minister, your body's honest."

"…"

I wanted to deny it, but there was no way to, and that only made me angrier.

Anyway, I cheerfully worked through another day, even loaning Alina out to the Ministry of Technology and Science.

"Give us back! Miss Alina!"

"Go do your jobs."

After suppressing the rebellion of the office slaves who seemed patched to spawn the moment Alina vanished, I watched the sun sink low and began wrapping up the day's work.

While clearing the last of it, I glanced at the terminal that had stayed quiet all day and sank into thought.

Looks like no special reports today. Good.

Yesterday had ended like a spectacular action movie while we were thrashing the Precursors, but if every single day went like that, the troops' fatigue would be no joke—never mind mine. In this game I'd transmigrated into, even a single event took an absurdly long time to resolve.

Let's see… a basic investigation event used to take at least a hundred eighty days—half a year, right?

Given that, expecting major progress when not even two months had passed was unrealistic.

I finished sorting my thoughts, approved the final piece of work, and—

Crack!

"Nngh…"

"Good work today."

—stretched my stiff body. A grotesque sound came from my lower back as my spine realigned with a satisfying pop.

This refreshing feeling… is today actually an early-out day?

How long had it been since a day with no reports and no incidents? Eager to savor the happiness, I stood at once and headed for the break room behind the office.

"No one can stop me—no one…!"

"Ah, right."

But the moment I reached for the break-room doorknob—

Ding♪

—a clear, familiar chime from my terminal froze every muscle in my body. Only my head managed to turn, creaking like rusted machinery.

And at the end of that gaze…

"What are you doing? Stop dodging reality and come get the report."

…stood Riel, looking thoroughly annoyed as she pointed at the terminal I'd left behind.

After once again driving the etiquette-injection rod into the top of Riel's head, I sat down with a sigh and immediately opened a channel through the terminal.

"Minister, I have a new report. Would it be all right to deliver it now?"

"Anytime. Go ahead."

At my words, Meteorn—the one making the report—gave a short nod and launched straight into the situation briefing.

"First, regarding the Precursor forces currently remaining. We estimate fewer than five hostiles left inside the ship. Of those, one has been captured alive, and one was killed while resisting."

"…There's a captive?"

"Yes, Minister."

Those prideful Precursors, taken prisoner by a lesser species? It was surprising enough that I decided to hear the details once Meteorn finished.

"Pursuit of the remaining Precursors is underway, and coordination with the Prosnark marines is proceeding better than expected."

The moment the Prosnark marines came ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠up, I felt my expression tighten slightly before I could stop it. I corrected it as fast as I could, but a superhuman soldier like Meteorn would never miss such a tiny shift with those eyes of his.

"My apologies. That was a careless remark."

Seeing him bow hastily, I waved a hand lightly.

"No need to worry about it. Keep going."

"Understood."

Nothing else in Meteorn's ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠subsequent report particularly stuck with me.

"…And that concludes the report."

As soon as he finished, I brought up the topic I'd been waiting for.

"I see. All right. Then let's have a talk with that Precursor you captured."

"Yes. I'll bring them at once."

Meteorn vanished from the screen. I leaned back against the sofa, fingers laced, and killed time.

But time kept flowing. One minute, two, three. When five minutes had passed, Riel—who had been forced into overtime right in front of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me—let out a sigh.

"Minister, if you're that bored, shall I make you a cup of coffee?"

"…Yeah. Please."

Riel brought iced coffee with floating ice cubes and some snacks. We shared them, finished the coffee, and I even stepped out to take care of business—yet the channel still hadn't reconnected.

"Riel, how long has it been since Meteorn said he'd bring the prisoner?"

"Hmm, just hit thirty minutes."

I drummed my fingers on the table, trying to soothe the rising irritation, when—

Beep-beep!

—the channel finally connected. I accepted at once.

"Sorry for the delay. There was a small problem while bringing the prisoner…"

"…Hmm."

I couldn't exactly chew him out for a late call when the faces of Meteorn and the Purge Squad members on the screen looked like that—deep dark circles, hollow eyes, cheeks sunken to the bone. They were so thoroughly exhausted that worry came before anger.

"Is something wrong?"

Meteorn shook his head on the screen.

"No, nothing like that…"

"Hmm?"

"The prisoner is so loud and annoying that everyone's mental state is… fraying."

I wondered just how bad it could be to leave them that irritated—

A moment later.

"IfyoureleasemerightnowIwilldoeverythinginmypowertoseethatyourpitifulempireescapesthewratofmyhomelandunscathed."

I saw the "prisoner" rattling off words at machine-gun speed without a single pause for breath. Even a glance made it crystal clear why Meteorn and company looked so wrecked.

"…Has he been talking like that from the start?"

"Hard as it may be to believe… yes."

How could anyone even speak in that manner? I couldn't chalk it up to him being a Precursor. The woman the Prosnark marines had beheaded might have been full of chosen-race arrogance, but at least she'd spoken like a person.

"YouhavenorighttoclaimthisshipbutifyoubehaveIcouldcontactmyhomelandandgrantyoupartialownershiprights."

"…"

"Soreleasemeatonceyoulesserspecies!"

The moment I saw that spacing-be-damned speech style and felt pure disbelief—

Looking at the event message that offered no choices whatsoever, I felt a sigh escape on its own.