The First Battlecruiser

Having sorted my thoughts one way or another, I decided to break ground at once on the long-awaited first battlecruiser—the ship that would serve as the backbone of our fleet going forward.

Takes forever, damn it.

Beyond the command center windows, the massive shipyard cranes swung in coordinated arcs while swarms of unmanned drones inside the dock began assembling the skeletal frame of Battlecruiser No. 1 in earnest. Watching a warship that would have taken months to build in the real world take shape for completion in a mere five days, I felt a fresh wave of appreciation for just how absurdly productive this sci-fi world really was—at least when it came to manufacturing.

After ordering construction of the first battlecruiser, I found myself wondering what to do next, and set about assessing the base's internal situation. Of course, I wasn't about to do anything as undignified as wandering around inspecting everything in person.

"Jessica, what's the current status of the fleet?"

"As you instructed, most of the obsolete standard ships have entered the decommissioning process."

I sat comfortably in the command seat, listening to Jessica's calm briefing as she walked me through the holograms.

"The Overseer has dismantled and returned the majority of the equipment that had been haphazardly installed on her, and Griyanaar is currently recovering the biological components she layered onto the bridge, radar systems, and so on."

"Hmm."

"Oh—and most of the resources recovered from ship decommissioning are being reinvested into reproducing the Kraken's fighter craft that were completely wiped out last time."

"…How much is that going to cost?"

"Each fighter takes about ten minerals and one rare resource, so… considering roughly two thousand were destroyed, we're looking at at least twenty thousand minerals and two thousand rare resources?"

"*Ghk.*"

A pained sound escaped me at that heartbreaking figure. Like it or not, though, this was something I'd keep experiencing for the Kraken's leveling work going forward. I shook my head and resigned myself to accepting the sad reality.

"Alright, let's see… what's our daily resource income right now?"

"The base itself produces three thousand minerals and a hundred fifty rare resources. From resource extraction and the forced labor camps, we're getting roughly twelve thousand minerals and two thousand rare resources."

Even so, the anemic state of our resource income was something I simply couldn't stand to leave alone.

"Haa… I might have to join some clan sooner or later."

"It does seem that way, doesn't it?"

Given this game's peculiar habit of bolting management-sim elements on in the strangest places, living as a pure solo player inevitably created problems in exactly this area of resource supply. Of course, for now I still had the buffer of ships produced and resources stockpiled over the past stretch of gradual development—enough leeway to casually lay down a battlecruiser. But if I got into a fight here, my ships got wrecked, and I had to rebuild them from scratch? That was when solo players like me would be forcibly educated on what resource hell really felt like.

Personally, thanks to some absolute garbage experiences with clans back when I used to game, I had less-than-warm feelings about joining one—and had rejected every invitation so far. But as the tip post I casually found while searching the gallery for resource-income advice after hearing Jessica's report made painfully clear—

Goddamn it.

There were limits to what an individual could do, after all.

Kekeke. That guy's the weakest among our rankers. (2)

Anyway—clans were good. That was the point.

It wasn't like I didn't already know that. As I'd mentioned earlier, I'd simply refused to join because of personal trauma and old habits.

"Commander, I believe it's time you rose above the sorrows of the past…!"

"Mm… you're right."

At this point, for the sake of the future if nothing else, I figured I needed to join a proper clan whether I liked it or not.

But separate from that resolve, we had one small problem…

"So which clans can we even join?"

"Hmm… how about Humanity, the biggest one? I heard they have a forward base just across the border!"

"They only accept people from the Earth Federation, remember?"

"Ah."

A bunch of middle-aged guys trying to remodel the Earth Federation—which vaguely recalled the Federation from Galaxy Trek—into the kind of Human Federation you'd find in some 4X sci-fi game. There was no way they'd take pirate rabble or monster fanboys, so that was an automatic pass.

What about the other major clans, then?

"Commander, what about the Justice Clan? I heard they accept people from any of the four major factions."

"They had a forward base nearby, but it was destroyed during the recent inter-faction ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fighting."

The Justice Clan, which might have been the most straightforward option, had unfortunately lost its ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠forward base—meaning until they built a new one, they couldn't exercise any control over this sector of space. With their sphere of influence gone from the area, there was no way to join even if we wanted to.

And the remaining clan was…

"Hmm… the Loki Clan…"

"That one's a bit much, no matter how you look at it."

"Right?"

Even if we held blackmail video of Betelgeuse-chan—the pink, pink self-proclaimed high school girl leading that clan—if we just showed up and asked to be let in, would Betelgeuse actually take us? Or would she accept us as fellow clan members only to turn around and exploit us?

She was clearly far smarter than me, so she might use every tool at her disposal to bleed me dry—or make me suffer the same things she'd gone through. Pass.

And once we'd gone through all of that, the surprising conclusion was that the only clan we could join was…