The Pirate's Cunning Escape
The flash that struck the enemy was a far deeper hue than the previous main cannon barrage. The unidentified hostile vessel visibly shuddered under the impact. This time, with both sides timing their main guns in unison, the cruiser rocked harder than before, yet it was nothing compared to the brutal shaking the enemy endured.
Freesia allowed herself a small, inward smile at the results. Unless the opponent was deliberately concealing their true skill, this was a decisive victory in her favor. She had diverted a substantial portion of power to the shields in case the enemy had been holding energy in reserve for their main cannon.
With an additional fifty percent output allocated to both the main gun and shields, the Carnelian-class light cruiser’s real specifications now stood at 7.5 million onyx for the cannon and 15 million onyx for the shields. The enemy’s previous barrage, which had struck shields already running at 110 percent capacity, had totaled roughly six million onyx. Judging by the latest shield loss figures, the opponent had focused their output and poured an extra two million onyx into the attack.
In exchange, however, the unidentified vessel’s shields had plummeted from twelve million to roughly eight million onyx. Given the standard 1:2 output ratio between main gun and shields, the drop in shield strength exactly matched the increase in cannon power.
Unless the enemy was intentionally throttling their systems, that output level had to be the captain’s limit. Or the ship’s limit. Against a superior vessel, half-heartedly conserving energy was tantamount to suicide, so the chance that this was mere deception seemed low. If the destroyer had provided main-gun support, or if they had faced a heavy cruiser instead of a light one, the enemy’s shields would have collapsed instantly. Regretful sighs rose from every corner of the bridge.
The bridge crew had grown visibly excited at the sight of the enemy’s badly faded shields. Frederick’s thunderous rebuke cut through the rising tension like a whip. Freesia gave him a grateful nod for restoring order in her stead, then increased output once more while studying the enemy’s reaction. With their shields in such tatters, the opponent faced two realistic choices.
The first was for a truly exceptional captain to minimize main-gun fire, focus entirely on shield recovery, and reset the battle. The second was to abandon the fight and withdraw. The first option required the enemy captain to vastly outclass her in ability, so she dismissed it.
From their earlier cannon exchange, it was clear the opposing captain was not deliberately hiding superior skill; he was simply outmatched. That left retreat, but Freesia had no intention of letting them slip away so easily. Come to think of it, the allied encirclement would be complete in four hours. Yet why wait four hours when she could pulverize them right now? Besides, seeing the very culprit responsible for more than forty days of brutal hardship floating before her eyes, rage rose in her chest instead of exhaustion.
"What the hell kind of fucked-up situation is this!"
The man with striking dark-blue scales covering much of his skin slammed his fist against the command console, spewing every curse he knew.
"To think I’m being pushed around by a mere battalion commander, a worthless insect!"
Insults and occasional blows rained down, but the bridge crew remained deathly silent, heads bowed. One word from any of them and Karamir—one of the Golden Horn Pirates’ executives—would inflict at least serious injury. In the worst case, death on the spot. Still, he had not risen through the brutal lawless society on luck alone. Soon enough he swallowed his rage and refocused on shield recovery.
"The problem with those Federation bastards is you can never gauge their captains’ real ability."
The Drakan Empire, Karamir’s original home, maintained a strict division between commanders and ship captains, unlike the Federation. High-born nobles commanded fleets while the captains they personally chose—those with exceptional mana sensitivity—piloted the vessels. Naturally, the higher the vessel’s class, the more talented the captain. A mere battalion-level ship would be commanded by someone of obviously limited skill.
Before his disgraceful expulsion from the Empire, Karamir had been a battleship captain. With just a few more distinguished achievements he might even have been selected to command a space carrier. In contrast, the Federation operated a rigid promotion system. That was why cases like the 2nd Search Battalion occasionally produced cruiser captains with absurdly high capabilities. Of course, the reverse happened too.
"Lord Karamir, what are your orders?"
When his closest aide, Durek—the only man who could somewhat evade Karamir’s fury—asked for further instructions, Karamir glared at the enemy ship beyond the viewport with blazing eyes and spat out his decision.
"We retreat."
Durek’s eyes widened in surprise. Five years had passed since Karamir joined the Golden Horn Pirates. In that time he had devoured opponents even when outgunned. To order retreat after only three or four cannon exchanges was unprecedented.
"Understood. Issuing full retreat order to the—"
"Wait!"
Durek turned back, puzzled, as Karamir stopped him.
"At this rate we won’t escape anyway. They’re not idiots; they’ll have an encirclement forming. If we’d withdrawn from the start it might be different, but we’re already caught. We’ll use the spatial leap. Tell the destroyer to block the enemy cruiser’s main gun once—only once."
"Lord Karamir, that’s—!"
Karamir fixed Durek with a murderous stare.
"Can’t you read the situation? Or are you volunteering to block that damned cannon yourself? It’s a one-use item and it pains me to waste it, but if we hold back now we all die. We’ve already taken plenty. We’re pulling out."
The killing intent in his eyes made it clear any further argument would be fatal. Durek swallowed his objections and began issuing orders across the bridge. Watching the crew scramble, Karamir clicked his tongue. His arrogance had cost them dearly. The knowledge that he had to burn a one-use lifeline because of mere pride left a far more bitter taste than the loss of any material gains.
The destroyer that had been cowering behind the unidentified ship’s thick shields and sniping with its cannon now crept forward. Freesia’s eyes narrowed.
So they do have a plan.
Reports flooded in from every station. Freesia frowned deeply. She had expected to overpower the enemy shortly after the initial cannon exchange, but the opposing captain’s skill was far greater than anticipated.
His shield control is masterful.
At first he had desperately restored his shields. When Freesia adjusted her cannon output to attempt capture rather than destruction, he began pacing his recovery with expert timing. One misstep could lead to total shield collapse and immediate sinking, yet he handled the shields with surprising boldness. As a result the battle had stalled; Freesia dared not raise output recklessly.
"We have no idea what the enemy is preparing. All hands, stand by for further developments!"
To counter the completely unknown threat, Freesia poured more power into her own shields and fired. A heavy boom reverberated through the hull.
Energy signatures suddenly spiked on the unidentified vessel. The pattern was different from a main-gun charge.
Freesia hesitated only a moment before canceling her own cannon charge. She ordered the subordinate fleet to prioritize shields, then maxed out her own defensive output. A green radiance began at the cruiser’s bow, spreading until it completely enveloped the unidentified ship. In a brilliant flash the light coalesced into a colossal magic circle hovering before the enemy vessel.
"Magic circle formed forward! Not a Federation pattern. Analysis beginning!"
Here it comes?
Freesia drove her mana circuits harder than ever and slowly advanced the cruiser.
It was optimistic, but the enemy’s main gun was clearly inferior to a cruiser’s. Whatever this unknown technique was, it might prove lethal to a destroyer yet remain survivable for a cruiser. She prayed that was the case.
ANALYSIS COMPLETE! SPA—CE JUMP?
BATTALION COMMANDER!!
IT’S A SPATIAL JUMP!! SPATIAL JUMP MAGIC CIRCLE CONFIRMED!!!
The technical officer’s panicked shout finally registered. Horror flashed across Freesia’s face as she frantically poured every available ounce of power into the main cannon. She fired at the last possible moment, but after the magic circle flared with blinding light, only six high-speed boats and a handful of fighters remained.
The enemy’s hidden trump card had been a tail-cut maneuver.
Freesia and her bridge crew stared at the empty forward display in stunned silence. The pirates’ spatial jump array had selectively transported only their main assets—the unidentified vessel and the destroyer—leaving the smaller ships behind as decoys.
"Can we track the coordinates?"
"Further analysis is required, but it appears unlikely. The jump occurred amid the chaotic mana turbulence of active combat."
The technical officer shook his head bitterly and delivered the plain truth.
"The previous spatial jump cannot be analyzed from our ship."