The Power of Level 9 Docking

Sometimes I just shot the breeze with Jessica like that.

Other times I watched Decarabia hit level 31 under Belial's blistering, full-throttle coaching.

"Whoa. So this is the power of a level-9 dock…?"

"There's an awful lot of it, Commander. Almost sickeningly so."

I browsed through the dazzling buff suite of a level-9 stronghold—something I had never once seen even during my long-forgotten clan days, back when the only time those memories surfaced was in the occasional seizure of nostalgia.

"All right, Jessica. What's our base's resource situation looking like now?"

"I'll start with storage capacity. The warehouses that maxed out at thirty-one million five hundred thousand back at Tannhauser are now at thirty-nine million… no, effectively forty million."

"Nice."

"Considering we've only finished the base's stage-ten upgrade and haven't built the remaining auxiliary structures—especially the resource warehouses—I'm fairly sure we'll clear forty million cleanly once those are complete."

Maximum resource storage was already kissing forty million (not quite there yet). Once the stage-ten base upgrade finished, it was a near certainty we'd punch through that number for good.

Damn… I could field a million-strong mercenary army and still hold out for three full days.

Listening to the briefing, I could feel my mood climbing in real time. And that wasn't even the end of it.

"On ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠top of that, resource intake has jumped hard. Daily intake is now five hundred thousand minerals and eighty thousand rare resources."

"A little lower than I expected. What about the rest?"

"Weekly intake has risen from the old three-point-eight million to four-point-five million."

"Very good."

"And just so we're clear, that weekly figure includes both resources and minerals. Gold is printing at an absurd rate now, too."

"Aaaabsolutely excellent."

Just swallowing Daedalus had sent resources climbing on a geometric curve. How was that anything but pure, concentrated honey?

There was one small disappointment, though.

"There is one thing that stings a bit, though. If we could collect docking fees from the commanders parking at Tomsk, our resource intake would jump by a meaningful amount."

"Mm, well… given the risk profile, we needed to pull as many users in as possible even if it meant giving that up."

"That's true, of course."

Jessica had a point. Of the strongholds we'd just taken, the only level-4 base—and the sole connecting route between Tannhauser and the rest of our old territory and the Daedalus where I currently sat—was Tomsk Supply Base, and we weren't charging a single docking fee there.

Not that the regret ran deep. As I'd just told Jessica, the pieces of our domain were woven together reasonably well. At the center sat the so-called Tannhauser Zone, with the Leviathan Fleet using the Earth Federation Provisional Government as its home port. And then there was the Daedalus Zone—battered by the Grand Cross, yes, but still packing two fortress main batteries, and now with me parked on-site so the main force under Krabelos and the million-strong mercenary corps could spill out at any moment.

Tomsk, by contrast, was the only route stitching those two slightly distant zones together. On pure defense, it was a miserable position. If hostiles ever came for us, Tomsk would almost certainly take the first hit.

Under those conditions, I couldn't afford to thin the number of users docking there just to squeeze a little extra profit. It was sad, but there really was no other choice.

Aside from that minor snag, though, everything else was tight, clean, and thoroughly satisfying. I finished sizing up the situation, nodded, and let the pure satisfaction show.

Absolute jackpot.

I was still basking in that honey-sweet reality, riding a wave of happiness and something dangerously close to omnipotence, when—

Beep-beep! Beep-beep! Beep-beep!

"Commander?"

A sudden, prickling alarm tone cut through the air, followed by Jessica's puzzled voice. Right when the mood was perfect, someone had the nerve to set off an alert. I tilted my head.

"That was an extremely ominous-sounding transmission. What's going on?"

"It's communications from other commanders nearby who wish to enter your territory."

"…Ah. So that time's already here."

From Jessica's follow-up I learned the alarm wasn't a threat at all—just users hoping to settle in at Daedalus or elsewhere in my zone.

"It's been over four days since the event ended, so they must have decided Daedalus's defense forces have recovered enough by now."

"Yeah. I'd probably think the same thing in their place."

Honestly, no joke—I would've started testing the waters around now too. As Jessica said, more than four ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠days had passed since the event wrapped. That was plenty of time for Daedalus's native defenses to bounce back, which meant it was also plenty of time for people to start thinking, Why not dock at the Central Zone's one and only level-9 stronghold and soft-touch the place a little?

And the users trying to enter my territory right now shared one particular trait.

"…Man. So all of those are refugee applications."

"It's incredible. And the numbers are still creeping up, bit by bit."

"Yeah."

Whether they'd been suffering since before the event or had been ruined by it, they all shared the classic refugee profile—people coming here to start over.

Daedalus Refugee Camp, I guess.

Of course, calling them refugees was just a label. Their situations weren't identical by any stretch.

"Hmmmm. Jessica, can you get a read on the condition of these refugees on radar?"

"Yes. Gravity-particle radar, the stronghold's own radars and sensors—everything is fully operational."

"Then if anyone out there brought their own ships with their user account, their Superhumans, and the gacha system—uh, the Dimensional Causality Fixation System—let those people in first."

"Understood, Commander."

Among the flood of refugee users, I prioritized the ones who clearly looked like they'd already blown up their own bases, funneling them in first so they could start rebuilding. Then I began carefully scanning everyone else's situation through the radar.

And while I was looking, I happened to check the gallery again—and stumbled onto one more unexpected fact.