The Madman Strategy Works Sometimes—and Sometimes It Doesn't (2)

Unfortunately, the users of Base B554—who had overnight become our community's latest celebrity punchline—were far too deep in chaos to answer every jab thrown their way.

And no one was panicking harder than Palm Tree, clan leader of the Date Palm Clan, the same man who had charged into open revolt on nothing more than the baseless rumor that of course everyone would rise up with them.

Of course, no matter how frantically Palm Tree spammed the chat, the Central Base Alliance answered with total silence. For a group that supposedly lived and died by political maneuvering—and for whom trust was supposed to be the bare minimum—it was an almost incomprehensible response.

Palm Tree, already in freefall, and the rest of Base B554's users plunged into full-blown pandemonium as the realization hit: the Alliance had abandoned them.

And then the Date Palm Clan went and did something so brazenly insane that it rewrote everyone's expectations. Faced with a display of genuine, unfiltered madness, the Central Base Alliance scrambled to cut its losses and throw them under the bus.

Granted, ditching an ally this cleanly was the kind of move that could come back to haunt the Alliance the next time it tried to play politics… but that was a problem for later.

Individually, every base in the Alliance was weaker than Icarus. Combined, they were effectively the strongest force in the entire Central Zone. So when the man himself chose not to go head-to-head and instead extended a civil offer to negotiate, the Alliance users put their heads together, thought it over, and reached a conclusion: cutting a deal with Icarus and each taking one step back was vastly preferable to backing the Date Palm Clan, who ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had somehow turned a WWE match into a UFC bloodbath.

They accepted Icarus's offer—the kind you simply couldn't refuse.

And as if to prove just how skilled they really were at political games…

They casually slipped Icarus an indirect bribe, broadcasting a cheerful little "let's all be friends going forward ^^" with perfect deniability.

And perhaps it was because every string he'd been clutching had just snapped at once. On the command-center screen, I watched Base B554—home of the Date Palm Clan, whose collective mental state was visibly in free fall—and recalled the pressure fleets I'd scattered across every base and main force for intimidation purposes, pulling them all back to Tannhauser.

"Just send the Leviathan Fleet over and have them dump a full barrage. That should clean it up."

"That would be spectacular."

"Over two hundred Yormungand-class and Ouroboros-class ships firing in unison… I can only imagine the sight."

I meant to call in the Leviathan Fleet—the same one that had been leaning on a settlement cluster—and turn our Date Palm friends into thoroughly dried-out dates.

But right then—

"Commander, do we really have to use the Leviathan Fleet for this?"

"Hm?"

Every other superhuman present—including Belial and Tiamat, both of them experts when it came to fleet operations—had already nodded along. So when my adjutant Jessica suddenly floated a completely different opinion, I couldn't help wondering ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠what she was getting at.

That question didn't last long.

"Commander, if you let the Leviathan Fleet wrap this up as usual… other commanders might start calling you a 'Leviathan Fleet one-trick pony,' you know?"

"…All right. Let's hear the full version."

I listened with a complicated look on my face—and the more she talked, the more I had to admit she had a point.

The Madman Strategy Works Sometimes—and Sometimes It Doesn't (2)

Hmm. She might actually be onto something.

And as if the universe itself wanted to drive the nail home, it wasn't long after Jessica spoke that posts of almost exactly the same flavor started crawling up the gallery.

…Anyway. Watching posts like that—and plenty more in the same vein—start to surface, I realized that even if the opinion was still small-scale for now, if I slipped up…

I could easily end up like Monalisa: a ranker whose skill was never actually in doubt, who still got endlessly roasted as a ship one-trick pony.

On top of that, my own reputation among the other rankers had always been a little… awkward. And as Jessica had pointed out, it was true that I'd been quietly leaning on the Leviathan Fleet as a blunt instrument more and more lately.

One wrong move, and both inside and outside the community I'd be hearing, Without the Leviathan you're just trash, scrub—and not from one or two people. Dozens. Hundreds.

No—thousands of gleeful little trolls would absolutely lose their minds over it. That was the only conclusion the math would spit out.

And while I was turning that over, Jessica—still standing right in front of me—added one more thing.

"Besides, Commander… your mental fortitude isn't exactly legendary."