Asteroid Belt Search (4)
People sometimes harbor vain hopes. They buy a lottery ticket and imagine hitting the jackpot, or they wake up wishing all their troubles had merely been a bad dream. The seven battalion commanders suddenly thrust into scouring an asteroid belt because of some pirates' rampage were no different.
They hadn't expected to find anything on the very first day of the search. But they had hoped that after roughly a week—no, maybe ten days—of sweeping the area, they would discover the hidden pirates. Then they could deliver a proper punishment for all this suffering and finally return to port. Yet the seven battalion commanders were now learning, in the most bone-deep way possible, why such vain hopes are called delusions: because they never, ever come true.
"No enemy readings in the designated sector."
"Proceed to the next area."
It had been three weeks since the search began. Life on the bridge had fallen into a relentless cycle, like a hamster on a wheel. They followed the pre-set search routes while maintaining Precision Scanning. They stared fixedly at the empty radar, deployed the detection satellites they'd been pre-supplied with at each designated point, then moved on to the next location.
Whenever they periodically exchanged data with the other units, the wide tactical map slowly filled with satellites in a game of territorial expansion. But looking at their overall progress, the only thing that came out was a sigh.
The endless repetition of the same tasks. The daily routine that offered no real rest because they were still on active operations. Little by little, the search battalion was growing exhausted.
Freesia in particular, who had to maintain Precision Scanning while the ship traveled at full speed, was beginning to show dark circles under her eyes despite her resilient constitution. Based on her experience in actual combat and operating a heavy cruiser, she had calculated that maintaining six hours of Precision Scanning per day would be perfectly manageable. She was now painfully aware of just how arrogant that assumption had been.
It didn't carry the same burden as suddenly channeling massive power into the main battery, but sustaining a constant low-output draw was no small feat either. It was only thanks to the Medical Command's directives—regular checkups and various supportive measures—that she was holding on. Without them, even her strong body might have collapsed at some point. The commander of the 3rd Company had completely burned out two days ago, handed command over to his vice commander, and slept for a full twenty-four hours.
There were moments when she thought she might actually die. But whenever she communicated with the other battalion commanders and saw their increasingly haggard faces, changing by the day, she felt both relief that she wasn't the only one and a creeping anxiety at the glimpse of her own future. It made her shiver.
Another week passed.
When news arrived that one of the pirates' high-speed corvettes had been subdued, Freesia jolted awake and rushed to the bridge. The time was 1 a.m. She had only been asleep for about three hours.
When she arrived on the bridge, the face of the 4th Battalion Commander under the 3rd Fleet was prominently displayed on the main panel. From the context, it seemed the 4th Battalion had been the one to neutralize the corvette. As the other battalion commanders joined the call one by one, the 4th Battalion Commander began his briefing.
If there had been nothing unusual, a simple situation report could have waited until the battalion commanders woke up. The fact that he had roused everyone in the dead of night suggested the information was anything but ordinary.
With an expression heavy with exhaustion, the 4th Battalion Commander brought up a summarized data screen.
A heavy silence fell over every bridge at the 4th Battalion Commander's bombshell announcement.
The enemy strength they had previously confirmed was twenty high-speed corvettes and two destroyer-class ships. But the forces now revealed consisted of fourteen corvettes, four destroyers, and one unidentified vessel nearly at cruiser level. Even excluding the unknown ship, the rest alone represented firepower equivalent to four search companies. If they estimated the unidentified vessel's capabilities at eighty percent of a standard cruiser, the total enemy strength was nearly on par with an entire search battalion.
Lieutenant Colonel Fransia frowned, clearly unable to comprehend the numbers.
"We haven't been able to get a clear reading on the enemy inside the asteroid belt, but Fleet Headquarters had no intelligence about additional enemy reinforcements entering the area. Isn't it possible this is a deception by the pirates?"
While modern mana radars couldn't scan the entire universe like the primitive optical radars of the distant past, they had still advanced by leaps and bounds. Depending on the ship's class, the difference varied, but a dedicated space carrier—the flagship of most star systems—could cover a radius of roughly thirty billion kilometers when operating at full capacity. That was more than enough to blanket an entire star system.
It might be one thing if they had slipped in among civilian vessels during peacetime, but infiltrating from outside the system while the Federation maintained such sharp vigilance was nearly impossible.
"Given the circumstances, I gave the corvette's captain a light squeeze. The probability of deception is extremely low. According to the information they possess, the unidentified class vessel is capable of precise spatial jumps."
"Hmm…"
"You've been through a lot."
The term "squeeze" was slang for using mental magic on the subject. It was common parlance among commanders at the rank of lieutenant colonel or higher who directly handled prisoners. Forcing a confession through mental magic during interrogation was usually an absolute last resort. Officially carrying it out required an extremely rigorous approval process. Skipping all the intermediate steps and jumping straight to mental magic left one with no defense against disciplinary action. That was why people euphemistically said they had "given someone a squeeze" instead of admitting to using mental magic directly.
The other battalion commanders were about to reach a silent agreement to pretend they hadn't heard the words "gave him a squeeze" at all—out of consideration for the 4th Battalion Commander's determination to end this wretched search operation even a little sooner—when a voice cut in.
"Um, I'm sorry, but what does 'gave him a squeeze' mean?"
Unfortunately, there was a brand-new lieutenant colonel in their midst—a novice battalion commander whose accumulated experience was barely different from that of a mere captain. It was the kind of slang one naturally picked up after serving for a while as a vice commander on a cruiser or an adjutant on a battleship. But for Freesia, who had rocketed to lieutenant colonel in just two years, it was completely unfamiliar.
Since he couldn't exactly explain it over a video conference, Lieutenant Colonel Fransia simply said she would tell her privately later and added a gentle reminder not to ask anyone else. It was a small, trivial incident.
Separate from that, the battalion commanders' expressions remained grim. If there was a ship capable of spatial jumps, it meant they would need to add wide-area mana flow detection on top of their Precision Scanning. Still, they thought, surely they wouldn't force the people already running Precision Scanning all day to take on something so cruel.
Lieutenant Colonel Fransia decided she would request that Fleet Headquarters expand the range of mana flow detection to cover the entire asteroid belt. Somewhere in the distance, she could almost hear the scream of a space carrier captain.
According to the information uncovered by the 4th Battalion Commander, the unidentified vessel and the destroyer-class ships belonged to the Golden Horn Pirates—contrary to Fleet Headquarters' expectations.
In contrast, the high-speed corvettes were not directly affiliated with the Golden Horns but rather a loose coalition of various ragtag pirate groups they had gathered. Among them, six of the corvettes had broken away from Golden Horn control and were operating independently. One of those had been the ship caught by the 4th Battalion.
The realization that a pirate group of the highest danger rating—one whose name struck fear across the entire universe rather than just the Federation, like the Orca or Great White—had appeared left the battalion commanders' faces unable to relax.
In the end, excluding the six independent corvettes, the assembled force led by the unidentified vessel consisted of that ship itself, four destroyers, and eight corvettes. It fell short of the search battalion's full strength, but it was certainly not a force to be taken lightly. Depending on the unidentified vessel's output, it could very nearly match the search battalion.
Still, now that the pirates knew one of their subordinate corvettes had been captured, it was highly likely they would refrain from bold spatial jump infiltrations and simply stay hidden, holding their breath.
If discovered by the Federation forces, they would retreat quickly. If the Federation withdrew without finding them, they would clearly bide their time and look for another opportunity.
"The combat battalion commanders probably won't worry too much, but…"
The 4th Battalion Commander's gaze shifted to one side of the screen. He was likely looking at Freesia's video feed.
As a newly appointed battalion commander—and a young one with far too little experience at that—she was naturally a source of concern. However, no matter how much of a junior she was, openly expressing worry toward someone of equal rank would be rude. Besides, Freesia had achieved her rapid promotion through outstanding military accomplishments rather than mere experience. The 4th Battalion Commander said nothing further.
"I only hope the search battalion commanders will handle any encounter with the enemy with extra caution." He added only that small piece of advice.
After the video conference ended, Freesia rubbed her tired eyes. Captain Evans, the second adjutant on duty today, carefully suggested she return to bed.
"I'll organize the meeting records into a report for you, Commander."
Vice Commander Dmitry and the first and second adjutants only maintained a standard watch rotation that included four-directional vigilance without Precision Scanning. Even then, they rotated shifts daily. Compared to Freesia, who had to maintain six hours of Precision Scanning every single day without weekends, they still had plenty of energy to spare.
They did their best to extend her lunch and dinner breaks as much as possible to give her some rest, but even that was like offering a single sip of water to someone dying of severe thirst. Freesia blinked her sleep-heavy eyes several times, instructed them to maintain even stricter vigilance, then nodded.
"Please do. Take care."
Once back in her captain's quarters, Freesia carelessly stripped off her uniform jacket and collapsed onto the bed without even bothering to tidy up.
"I hate this… I'm going to die…"
Her pitiful groan lasted only a moment. Within minutes, the sound of quiet, even breathing filled the captain's quarters.