Gravity Distortion Field (1)

Captain Romeo, commander of the 3rd Company in the 2nd Search Battalion of the 41st Fleet, stretched out with a luxurious groan during what felt like his first true moment of rest in ages. "Ughhh! God, I'm dying here! Seriously."

After more than forty days of relentless search operations, the unit had plunged straight into fierce combat with pirates. The ragtag collection of high-speed boats from minor pirate groups barely warranted attention, but the destroyer he'd faced belonged to the Golden Horn Pirates—one of the highest-threat outfits in the sector. These weren't the usual pushovers that could be swatted aside with minimal damage. This was on an entirely different level.

Unlike the small-time outfits making do with destroyers several generations out of date, this vessel's specs nearly matched those of the Federation's latest patrol ships. To make matters worse, the enemy captain's mana sensitivity had been formidable. The battle had seesawed back and forth, forcing both sides to trade main cannon fire like their lives depended on it. Even a full day later, Romeo could still feel the lingering strain tugging at parts of his mana circuits.

It was a blessing that command had ordered them to stand by until the salvage vessel arrived to take custody of the captured high-speed boats and pirate prisoners. Without that reprieve, he suspected he might have collapsed outright if they'd resumed the search operation immediately.

"Speaking of which, I heard the battalion commander took a full day's rest yesterday," Romeo remarked.

In reality, she had collapsed from exhaustion, but it wouldn't do for the supreme commander to be known as having fallen. So the official word passed down to the companies was simply that she'd taken a day's rest.

"A single day's rest? From what Nicholas told me, she didn't rest at all right up ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠until yesterday's engagement," First Lieutenant Jacob, the vice commander, replied.

Romeo clicked his tongue in disbelief. He'd seen her on the bridge every single day, so he'd assumed she must have been taking at least some breaks. To learn she'd been running Precision Scanning nonstop for over forty days without rest—and then fought a battle on top of it—was staggering.

When was it that I collapsed again? He thought back. It had been on the nineteenth day. He'd taken another full rest day on the forty-first. Yet this young battalion commander had gone more than forty days without any rest whatsoever, then engaged in combat against ships of equal class plus a destroyer. Even maintaining combat effectiveness in less-than-perfect condition while methodically eliminating the enemy's lesser vessels until they could seize the advantage would have been impressive enough. But to dominate the enemy with overwhelming mana sensitivity in that state? It was extraordinary.

"That's why she's a battalion commander at her age. It's a realm we ordinary people simply can't comprehend," Romeo said.

The officers gathered on the patrol ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ship's bridge were all roughly equal in talent, regardless of race. None possessed Freesia's outright exceptional qualities. They were the very definition of average—perfectly competent, neither outstanding nor inadequate. In truth, the 2nd Search Battalion's cruiser was somewhat unusual. The vast majority of Federation vessels operated with companies much like the 3rd.

At that moment, the bridge doors opened and Master Sergeant David, the 3rd Company's administrative supply officer, entered. Looking somewhat fatigued, he manipulated his terminal and transmitted the report.

"Captain, I've completed the supply verification. Everything checks out. We can submit the report as is."

"Thank you for your hard work, Supply Officer."

The after-action report should have been submitted yesterday, but the battalion command staff had been overwhelmed handling the captured high-speed boats and pirate prisoners. They'd agreed to submit today's instead. David had used the extra time to double-check the entire document for any discrepancies. Fortunately, it appeared flawless.

Just as Romeo finished his final review and prepared to forward it to the battalion operations section—

"C-Captain! Emergency!"

A man whose two-meter-tall, heavily muscled frame suggested anything but gentleness burst through the bridge doors. His unexpectedly innocent face made the urgent entrance all the more striking. Second Lieutenant Morgan, the boarding platoon leader who had distinguished himself in the recent pirate suppression operation, wore an expression that killed Romeo's welcoming smile instantly.

The captain's terminal slipped from his fingers and clattered to the deck.

"O-one of the Gravity Distortion Fields is missing."

Freesia had ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠finally returned to the bridge after a full day's rest in the infirmary, only to be greeted by an avalanche of reports. It was a small mercy that Vice Commander Dmitry had handled a fair portion using his own authority. Without that, she might have actually screamed.

Thanks to his efforts, she was now reviewing documents with eyes that seemed to swirl in dizzy spirals.

"Um... ah..."

It was complicated. Still far too complicated.

Other battalions only needed Category 1 and 3 supplies along with the detection satellites they'd scattered everywhere. The 2nd Search Battalion under Freesia's command was completely different.

There were fighters damaged during combat, missiles expended in dogfights that numbered far beyond just one or two, and several high-speed boats with partial armor breaches. Despite her lack of experience, she'd worked without pause all morning yet had only managed to clear about half the accumulated reports. To make matters worse, new reports were piling up at roughly the same pace she could process them.

Every time her terminal chimed with another alert, she shot a resentful glare toward the control stations below. The crew merely averted their eyes. No one dared stop working. If they paused now, there was no guarantee they'd get any sleep at all.

They had to finish everything before the search operation resumed.

Frederick acknowledged the silent message with a slight nod and opened the report Freesia had sent. It concerned the disposal of expended supplies. After reading through it carefully, he nodded again. This was exactly the sort of matter that would trouble her.

A company commander could simply organize the list of consumed materials, send it to the logistics officer, and follow instructions. A battalion commander, however, had to review the logistics officer's final report and make the ultimate decision.

On the surface, it seemed simple: receive replacements for what was used and dispose of what needed disposing. But the military never made anything that straightforward.

For example, completely using up one container of supply A presented no issue. But if two containers of A had each been used halfway, those remaining halves could theoretically be combined into one full, usable container.

The problem lay in determining which cases permitted this and which did not. These were matters learned through experience and accumulated wisdom. For Freesia, who had only recently reached the rank of Major after serving as a Captain, approving such things carelessly was impossible.

Watching Freesia continue to review reports with her face flushed red and eyes still swirling, Frederick offered a wry smile. He wondered if she could even properly read anything in that state. Still, the sections she'd roughly checked in the previous report had been surprisingly accurate.

No matter how much of it came down to experience, the foundation remained the manual. She'd been carrying it everywhere and studying it constantly. That diligence had enabled her to identify several areas where the logistics officer's report could be improved based on proper procedure.

She's come incredibly far compared to the beginning.

To Freesia, the endless wave of administrative tasks felt like drowning. From Frederick's perspective, however, her progress since those early days at the military port—when she'd asked about everything—was remarkably rapid.

Even in the asteroid belt, she would study the manuals and handle paperwork whenever she found a spare moment.

Thanks to that habit, even as reports flooded in at a rate incomparable to the supply loading at the resupply port, the frequency of her questions had decreased noticeably.

The brutal schedule in the asteroid belt—eight to nine hours of merciless duty—had been a desperate struggle to secure even a little sleep. Yet that very struggle had accelerated her mastery of administrative work at an astonishing pace.

Indeed, people adapt when pushed hard enough.

It was a moment that reaffirmed the military's eternal truth: no matter what, if you grind people hard enough, they will improve.

If this young battalion commander had mastered so much while simultaneously operating a warship, then the administrative staff who did nothing but paperwork all day should be able to advance even further. If they assigned workloads that could just barely be completed within duty hours through maximum effort, then offered the carrot of early rest once everything was finished...

"Battalion Commander. A report has come in from ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the 3rd Company."

Frederick's rather terrifying line of thought was cut short by the communications officer's trembling voice. The administrative staff, blissfully unaware they had been dancing on death's doorstep, continued their assigned tasks. They had to work without pause just to finish on time and get some sleep.

But the communications officer's next words froze every single person on the bridge in place.

"The 3rd Company reports that one Gravity Distortion Field has been lost."

An impossible—no, an unthinkable—statement dropped over the bridge like a blanket of silence.

What did they lose?

Freesia opened and closed her mouth several times before finally managing, with great difficulty, to speak.

"They lost... what?"

She desperately hoped she'd misheard. She prayed that her body still wasn't fully recovered from overwork, that something was wrong with her hearing.

It must be a firearm. At worst, a plasma grenade. Even a missing powered suit would be acceptable.

Anything would be better than a Gravity Distortion Field.

But the communications officer mercilessly crushed her hopes.

"The entire 3rd Company is currently searching for the Gravity Distortion Field."

"Ah..."

The reality she hadn't wanted to hear stepped right up to her. Freesia reflexively pressed a hand to her forehead as dizziness washed over her. Goddess, what exactly have I done wrong?

If it had been plasma grenades or powered suits as she'd imagined moments ago, it would have been so much better. At worst, she'd be summoned by the fleet logistics staff officer, endure hours of scolding, write a statement of explanation, and receive some disciplinary action. Those were all solvable problems.

But a Gravity Distortion Field was something else entirely.

Among the combat supplies issued to each platoon, it was the most critical item. It saw little regular use, but it had been developed by the Federation after tremendous effort to counter enemy assault forces—particularly special units that ordinary infantry could not handle.

When the Holy Nation's assault weapons known as Angels, or special forces from the higher races, successfully boarded a vessel, the Federation had no response except to deploy Knights. Well-trained infantry from the beastman races could buy some time, but that was all. Ultimately, the ship would be overrun.

Assigning Knights to every vessel was realistically impossible. So the Federation had pursued every possible avenue of research to give ordinary infantry some means of resistance. The result was the Gravity Distortion Field.

The reason ordinary infantry couldn't handle such special forces wasn't primarily their durability or destructive power. It was their speed—too fast for the eye to follow.

The Gravity Distortion Field targeted exactly that weakness, creating a localized gravity well that trapped the target and rendered movement impossible. No matter how elite the unit, once immobilized they could be bombarded with plasma grenades and every other weapon available until eliminated.

In the chaos of urgent combat, accurately identifying an enemy's position and throwing the device like a grenade was impractical. Therefore, it had been engineered with incredibly complex circuits—the pinnacle of Federation magitech—allowing activation at any desired location through the user's mana and thoughts alone.

Though only slightly larger than a human palm and strictly single-use, each Gravity Distortion Field cost a staggering seven billion krone. Furthermore, every use had to be thoroughly documented through recorded combat data.

To hear that something so vital had gone missing was so absurd that Freesia felt laughter bubbling up instead of anger.

First the unprepared promotion, then the pirate incident exploding the moment she assumed command. And now this—a missing Gravity Distortion Field.

In a situation that felt like the universe itself was deliberately imposing trials upon her, Freesia bit down hard on her lip before shouting with raw fury.