Farming the Weak Is the Right Civilization (1)
I was, in all honesty, rather pleased that what had turned up wasn't some massive free-for-all where explosive leveling was on the table — just a scrap with a small-time pirate outfit.
And why wouldn't I be? Think about what the situation actually was.
It wasn't one of those fights where the enemy fleet was so absurdly numerous that our side got steamrolled before the Kraken-class could even show what it could do. Nor was it a clash with some major power, the kind where you had to keep a capital ship like a Kraken-class locked down for fear of enemy reinforcements or a flanking maneuver.
This was a cleanup job against a small pirate band that had no reinforcements coming. Period.
In other words, it was the absolute ideal set of conditions for my Kraken to operate — exactly the scenario those "user reviews(?)" had been talking about.
"Jessica, how many ships can we actually field right now?"
"One moment… three heavy cruisers including the Overseer, plus two destroyers that had to return to base for repairs after the damage they took fighting those wild beasts last time."
The rest of the fleet, Jessica explained, was all out on resource-zone defense duty. That gave me a moment's pause — but then I decided there was no point fretting over it. The Kraken was going to smash everything anyway.
I stood up and ordered Jessica to put together a new task force on the spot.
"All right. Take that Kraken over there, one heavy cruiser, and the two destroyers, and form them into a single fleet."
"Got it. And who will you appoint as commander?"
At Jessica's question, a commander-selection window for small-scale auto-combat popped up. I swiped it away and declared, without a shred of hesitation:
"This time I'm running it myself! Might as well double as a live-fire test of the Kraken!"
"…Commander, you're taking the field in person?"
"Oppa is going out to fight himself? How exciting!"
Around the same time Icarus was assembling a mixed fleet for the Kraken's maiden combat sortie as a Big Fucking Ship—
"Captain, one of the mining ships is making a run for it."
"Leave it. What's left is already enough to fill our holds to bursting."
Coltar, captain of the Blue Fang Pirates — a Zenobia Empire privateer outfit that had slipped into Icarus's Sixth Resource Zone for a little looting — found himself suddenly gripped by a cold, creeping sense of dread.
"Hmm?"
"Something wrong, Cap?"
"Just got a bad feeling, is all. Any word from the lookouts?"
"No, sir. Nothing so far…"
Of course, Coltar had no idea what that bad feeling was actually about.
"Hmm. That so?"
"Probably just 'cause the place is sitting wide open with no real defense fleet or fortifications. You're overthinking it, Cap."
"Yeah, I figure the same, Captain."
Hearing his men — thoroughly absorbed in the business of plunder — put it that way, Coltar had to admit it sounded reasonable. He nodded, then shook his head hard, trying to rattle the unease out of his skull.
But not long after…
"C-Captain! We're fucked! We're so fucking fucked!"
"What?"
"There's a goddamn enormous ship up ahead, coming this way with a bunch of smaller ones!"
"Ah, hell."
Cursing himself for not trusting his instincts, Coltar immediately ordered every ship to scramble. The plan, of course, was purely contingency: fight if they had to, and bolt the second things looked dicey.
"Hold on — how many escort ships are we talking that you just said 'a bunch'?"
"Uh… less than ten!"
"…Son of a bitch. They've already got us surrounded."
Once he grasped the situation, Coltar understood that survival for himself and his crew wouldn't come from simply running. Their only real options were to smash through that unidentified capital ship and its escorts head-on, or slip past them somehow and break free.
In Coltar's mind, that "goddamn enormous ship" was at most a cruiser or battlecruiser. Ram through hard and fast, he figured, and they could punch out the other side of the enemy's fire and escape.
But the moment the pirate ships — still mid-loot — pulled out of the resource extraction zone and into open space…
"Wha—?!"
"What the fuck is that thing?!"
A super-capital ship far beyond anything Coltar had imagined was sitting right there waiting for them. He and his entire pirate band felt pure, crushing despair settle over them.
"You've gotta be shitting me — that thing's battleship-class at the very least!"
At the sudden appearance of the capital ship, Coltar's Blue Fang Pirates plunged into full-blown panic.
If they'd been ordinary, brainless freebooters, the sight of a giant warship escorted by nothing more than a single cruiser and two destroyers might have convinced them the enemy was underestimating them — just trying to shoo them off on the cheap. In that case they would have turned tail without a second glance and run for their lives at full burn.
But they weren't.
"Captain, what do we do?"
"What the hell do you think we do?! All hands, battle stations — now!"
Just as Icarus's command staff had speculated, and just as Marianne had guessed, they only looked like crude pirates on the surface. In reality they were proper privateers operating under orders from the Zenobia Empire.
Unlike the usual pack of idiot raiders, they understood exactly what it meant that this capital ship had shown up with a mere three escorts in tow. It meant the surrounding space was already locked down by a fleet, and that this monster had been dropped into the pocket to crush them through sheer weight of class. It meant a force that would deploy something like that considered ships like theirs nothing more than scrap waiting to be broken.
It meant they were not getting out of this alive.
"We punch through that fucking capital ship and its escorts no matter what!"
"Take those bastards out and the encirclement falls apart!"
"Wooo!"
"Ooooh!"
"Kill 'em all!"
It wasn't what Coltar himself had intended, but the pirates — effectively backed into a last stand whether they liked it or not — began burning with fighting spirit at the thought of overpowering the enemy fleet and breaking free.
That said, fighting spirit was one thing.
"Ah, fuck. What now."
"We use the chaos of a brawl and slip out somehow, Captain."
Coltar and his officers were already privately resolved to surrender if it came to that — anything to keep breathing.
And roughly a few minutes before all of that…
While our friend Coltar-or-whatever, some no-name pirate, was drowning in shock and awe—
"Pirate fleet has cleared the resource zone."
"Good, good."
I was admiring the large and beautiful rear end of the Kraken when the other superhumans, having nothing better to do, wandered over. Everyone had gritted their teeth and flatly refused to let me take the front line myself, so Belial had boarded the ship in my place. Together with her, and with Jessica feeding me real-time briefings from the command post, I settled into directing the mixed fleet.
But even faced with my magnificent composure, Jessica came back at me with a look of genuine concern.
"Commander, are you really all right with just four ships?"
"Hmm?"
"And your only real answer to small craft is those two destroyers. They're not even the Azkran-class we bought from the event shop — just standard models."
"Mm. Fair point."
Our Jessica, who once hadn't known the first thing about military matters, had grown so much. I felt a swell of genuine pride — and still, I waggled a finger at her to signal that it was fine.
Think about it for a second. The biggest, "strongest" ships this pirate band had were three light cruisers. Against that, we were fielding a Kraken-class — a ship built to mount battleship-grade main guns, more than five times the length of even an Overseer-class heavy cruiser (itself one of the five largest hulls in the heavy-cruiser weight class), with hundreds upon thousands of fighters, missiles, and assault pods hanging off its insides. There was simply no universe in which it lost.
Watching the enemy fleet dig in to fight rather than run, I nodded, then prepared to open every one of the Kraken's organic hangars and send a fighter strike wing out first.
And right at that moment—
The Blue Fang Pirate Band has been granted the trait [Last Stand]!
Attack Power +10%
Rate of Fire +10%
Evasion +5%
Surrender Chance −95%
Oh, come on. Why me.
Watching the game start throwing pure bullshit at me from a completely unexpected angle, I abandoned any notion of a smooth, easy run and settled in for some serious focus time.
"Launch every fighter the Kraken has. First strike wing, to positions."
"Understood. Commencing full fighter launch."
At Belial's order, relayed from my command, the Kraken peeled open organic structures that looked for all the world like the abdominal spiracles of some colossal insect—