Chapter 154
Chapter 154
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 154
Chapter Title: The Shipyard Fortress
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To fend off the Aliens, the Alliance had tried countless approaches over the years.
The space fortress was one of them.
This massive structure, perpetually orbiting a planet on constant vigil for threats, had shown real promise when it first appeared.
Unlike ships limited in armament by their cargo capacity, a space fortress could stockpile an enormous array of weapons.
It could also hold the line at the forefront during aerial assaults, absorbing Alien drops while providing orbital bombardment support to the surface.
And that was just scratching the surface—its potential uses seemed endless, making it look like a solid plan.
But when it came time to actually implement it, harsh realities reared their heads.
To make a space fortress viable, you first had to position the necessary structures in orbit.
Then, to power all those defensive installations, you'd need matching propulsion systems.
And with all the other preparations, construction alone would take ages.
Fine, let's brush those issues aside.
Even if everything went perfectly and the fortress was completed, a fundamental flaw remained.
It lacked self-propulsion.
A space fortress was tethered to its planet's orbit.
You could make minor adjustments as needed, but it couldn't cross to another planet's orbit, let alone break free entirely.
So what happens if a rift opens on the opposite side of the orbit?
It depends on the specifics, but responding would take at least an hour.
That led to comments like this:
"The upkeep costs are brutal anyway—why not just build a few more battleships?"
Everyone nodded in agreement, and the space fortress project was scrapped.
'This time it's different.'
Even so, the reason I was advising the construction of a space fortress lay in Black Yack's shipyard.
"That approach... brilliant."
The commander clapped his hands first.
He seemed to have already grasped half my intent.
Anthrozia already housed a massive space structure perfect as a space fortress foundation.
A place where millions had once worked.
Its resident population fluctuated, but at minimum, a million people had always lived and worked there.
In sheer size, it could stand toe-to-toe with the hive nest we'd faced just days ago—ideal for the job.
"There'll be backlash from Black Yack, though..."
"I'll handle that."
He replied with resolute conviction.
The commander's face lit up like he'd hooked a prize fish.
"No, as commander, it's my duty—no need to frame it as 'handling' anything."
"Even so, public opinion... Ah, I see." I probed lightly, and his expression hardened further.
"In a situation this hard to control, this is the better option. The issue is whether the civilians left in the shipyard will cooperate..."
"No need to worry about that."
Smiling, I relayed Meister Han's message.
He and most of the others had agreed to convert the shipyard into a fortress.
And that wasn't all.
They'd declared their intent to participate directly in the fortification work.
They couldn't help with combat, but technicians who'd built battleships were a godsend.
"Is that true?"
"Yes. They harbor serious resentment toward Black Yack. I barely had to suggest it—no persuasion required."
"Hah! Who knew we'd get a gift like this? I always knew those bastards would pay for their sins someday."
The commander's mood fully lifted, a broad smile spreading across his face.
He was thrilled at the chance to legally stick it to Black Yack, who'd obstructed him at every turn.
I laughed along with him.
'We're gaining plenty from this too.'
I'd pitched the idea to the commander partly to bolster the planet's defenses, but also to swiftly diminish Black Yack's influence over Anthrozia.
Leaving the shipyard intact would keep Black Yack's attention fixed here for the foreseeable future.
They'd already stripped the top-tier equipment, but what remained was far from cheap.
Once the shipyard became a "conscripted" asset, though, Black Yack couldn't touch it.
With the technicians committing to cooperate with the military, any countermeasures would be off the table.
If a proper executive had stuck it out to the end, maybe—but prioritizing their own safety and abandoning control was a massive blunder.
"If you need anything, just say the word. I'll help however I can."
"Actually, there's something I'd like to ask for."
Exactly what I wanted.
I didn't mince words.
I requested permission for a few transport ships to shuttle back and forth to Anthrozia, ferrying supplies.
Registering them under the Golden Fleet anyway, with our mission to support superhumans, meant no major scrutiny.
Still, securing approval upfront would make operations far smoother.
The commander agreed readily, of course.
"By all means."
His smiling face suggested he saw right through me.
He even proposed something else.
"If you take responsibility for Alliance supplies too, I'll grant you 'conveniences' directly."
"Much appreciated. As members of the Alliance, it's only right."
I extended my hand, and he grasped it firmly.
Our handshake carried real weight.
*
About 15 days later, Anthrozia airspace.
A mystery capital ship appeared beside the comet that orbited Anthrozia every 12 years or so.
No markings hinted at its affiliation.
The ship approached the comet cautiously and began scanning.
Soon after, work machines and technicians poured out—scans complete.
"It's real."
Veil Monarch sighed in admiration from the bridge.
He watched as workers carefully loaded high-end shipbuilding equipment onto the vessel.
"Couldn't believe it, huh? Uncle's something else."
Naphael Monarch teased with a sly grin.
"Brother's remarkable. And he has divine luck too. Makes me wonder why you'd think he'd lie."
"He's not attached enough to the family... But I agree he's impressive."
To Veil, the premium gear before his eyes held immense significance.
The signal flare for the family's revival.
It fell short of their prime facilities, but combined with tech they'd developed since, it could match—or exceed—that era's capabilities.
Not just Behemoth-class superbattleships, but even grander vessels, given enough resources.
Perhaps even the dream ships shelved due to Aliens.
"No clue what to offer in return."
"Better not half-ass it."
"This is your headache, really."
Naphael smirked under Veil's gaze.
"Uncle issued the quest, didn't he? His mess to sort."
"Mind your wording as heir apparent." Veil turned away from Naphael, who just grinned despite hearing every word.
He knew pointing it out was futile.
It was just a tic—he'd given up long ago.
"Stock shares would be most fitting. Cull the blood kin just occupying seats like idiots, and we can scrape together about 5%."
"Wow, Uncle's thinking that far ahead."
Naphael feigned surprise, clapping dramatically.
The shares in question were for Monarchru Dock Station.
The true heart and soul of House Monarch.
The family held majority control under its name, so individuals couldn't sway big decisions.
But add Veil's proposed 5% to Leonard's existing stake, and it hit 10%.
Practically the largest individual shareholder.
Leonard could stir up real chaos if he wanted.
"It's only right to reward devotion to the family."
"But it's not Brother's favorite kind of gift."
"Precisely." They pierced Leonard's preferences dead-on.
He'd prefer tangible assets over shares, no matter their value.
Without controlling interest, they meant nothing.
Unsellable stock—5% or 10%, same difference.
"Nothing better to bind an Irregular to the family."
"Pfft, an Irregular leading the revival—pure comedy."
"Stay on good terms with Leonard. That's why I yielded the heir's seat to you."
"Yielded? It was mine from the start."
Their gazes clashed sharply for a moment.
But Naphael soon curved his lips playfully, as if nothing happened.
"And I really do like Brother. No pretense."
"Sure you do."
"Aw, you doubt the heir?"
"Earn my trust by acting like one. At this rate, you'll never."
They turned their eyes outside the bridge.
Technicians swarmed the scene.
The comet hid more than just premium gear—rare ores, Black Yack proprietary data boxes, the works.
A comprehensive gift set for House Monarch.
"Brother Yuri must be thrilled."
"Not my problem."
The comet stayed noisy until every last item left by the uninvited guest was claimed.
*
Oceanus Star System.
The heart of the Styx Front, plagued by the most frequent Alien raids.
Its planets—Acheron, Phlegethon, and Lethe—were all habitable worlds of decent 2- to 3-star quality.
Not a bad setup, aside from the outer-edge location.
Just two months ago, the system's total population topped 100 million and was still growing.
But peace shattered with the Aliens' arrival.
Like every rear sector, Oceanus lacked proper military forces.
Just a token fleet the Alliance had parked to flex its dominance.
The price for such skimpy prep was steep.
In two short months, the population halved, and most infrastructure lay in ruins.
Survivors hunkered underground until Major General Rivel arrived with his legion to save them.
The situation remained dire, though.
Food was scarce; essentials, scarcer still.
Wholly reliant on resupply, people mobbed any incoming transport like vultures.
At least they'd held onto their water sources—small mercy.
Without that, they'd have witnessed hell on earth firsthand.
Even amid this, Major General Rivel's steady leadership shone.
He repelled near-weekly raids, holding the Oceanus Star System together.
"Not as busy as I thought."
"Yeah. Figured we'd be scrambling from the moment we arrived."
Two weeks had passed since the Golden Fleet entered Oceanus.
They'd made the primary planet Acheron their base, keeping the flagship docked there while dispatching superhumans and hatchery strike teams via escorts.
But things stayed quiet.
Only two months into the invasion, so discovered hatcheries topped out at 4th grade.
Few 3rds, mostly 2nd-grade or lower low-threat sites.
No need to assist with raid defense either.
Regular fleets always stood ready for assaults, handling them thoroughly—leaving the Golden Fleet to just mop up ground-dropped Aliens.
Time hung heavy as a result.
"...Gah! Th-that was a close one!"
"You won't die! Next!"
Roze bellowed at the superhumans.
The next one's face drained to blue.
Muttering reached me as he stepped up.
"Wish we were busier..."
The sentiment of every superhuman waiting their turn.
The arena rang with desperate cries to survive for a good while.
"Here."
I handed the water jug to Roze after her round.
She downed nearly three liters, her face brightening like she'd cheated death.
"Fwaah. Refreshing."
"Good work. How're they doing?"
"Better than at first. Picking it up quick?"
The superhumans would scoff at that.
This wasn't "picking it up"—to them, it was a fight for life.
Roze sniffed out any sloppiness like a ghost and cranked the intensity.
No one dared slack.
"Keep it up. You're the only one I trust."
"I'll whip 'em all into shape!"
Sorry, superhumans, but no stopping now.
Her talent showed—progress was visible.
All same batch, still in growth phase, helped too.
Training peaked effectiveness during these gains.
'Eats well.'
I watched Roze stuff her cheeks full, then shovel in more.
Eyes wide with greed, she looked just like a hamster.