Firing Practice
Freesia’s tone carried a hint of disbelief. “You really wanted to try that?”
Daisy’s cheeks flushed, but she still puffed out her chest with pride. “Even if I look like this, my original post was communications! This is all just me trying not to forget what I learned.”
Well… the connection to the Free Seagull had been handled entirely by the communications officer. All Daisy had done was read announcements into the microphone. Still, if she was enjoying herself, maybe it was best to let her be.
“Hurk… hek… ueeegh…”
The bigger problem seemed to be First Adjutant Captain Amelia, who was currently slumped over the control console in Freesia’s place. She had seen Freesia using precise scans whenever she had a spare moment and asked to practice too. They had let her try, but…
“Ueegh…”
She looked like she was about to die. One more try and she might actually vomit everything inside her. The first few attempts had gone smoothly, but after thirty scans her breathing grew ragged. By the time she passed seventy, she had ended up like this.
If she had taken it slowly with proper intervals it might have been different, but what Freesia had demanded was to scan all ninety-three ships currently visible within five minutes.
Vice Commander Dmitry, along with First and Second Adjutants Amelia and Evans, all excelled at administrative work. However, both adjutants were new to cruiser operations and still struggled with the enormous strain it placed on their mana circuits.
Unlike the destroyers and patrol ships operated by company commanders, cruisers were true capital ships. The burden they placed on their captains was on an entirely different level.
Even Freesia had felt a heavy resistance around her chest for quite some time when she first piloted a cruiser. That said everything.
“Are you alright?”
Dmitry, unable to watch any longer, handed her a cold drink and patted her back. Amelia only shook her head, still gasping for air. Her throat felt blocked, and her stomach wasn’t just churning—it felt like it was turning inside out.
“This is too… urgh… heavy.”
The word heavy was the perfect description. If the mana flow inside ships smaller than a cruiser felt like smooth, flowing water, then a cruiser’s mana flow felt like thick, viscous oil dragging heavily through the veins.
In reality it was an illusion caused by moving a far greater volume of mana, but still.
Even so, the fact that she was only panting like this meant she had talent. If she kept working at it, she might even be able to handle a battleship someday. On the other hand, if her face went deathly pale and she felt pain in her mana circuits, it would mean that no matter how hard she tried, a cruiser was her limit.
There were only two hours left until the end of the duty day. It was probably best to let her rest for today.
“Good work. You’re done for the day—go back and rest. On your way, get a medical checkup from the military doctor.”
“Thank… huu… you for your hard work, ma’am.”
As Amelia staggered off the bridge, Freesia turned back to the forward panel and clicked her tongue at the Free Seagull’s status display. The color was even more shocking than the overload warning message.
“Is this reading accurate?”
The ship was glowing bright red. Normally even a serious overload would show up as yellow or somewhere between yellow and orange. For it to be this vividly red, just how much had they crammed inside?
“Yes, ma’am. At first we thought the scan was malfunctioning and ran it again, but the result was the same.”
“How overloaded are we talking about here?”
The logistics officer checked several figures before answering.
“That vessel was commissioned about forty years ago. It’s a small 280-meter-class cargo ship with a maximum cargo capacity of 400,000 tons. Its current cargo weight is 720,000 tons.”
That meant they were carrying nearly twice the allowed weight. No wonder the warning was blazing red. Freesia wasn’t even sure if something like that could land properly on a planet.
“Battalion Commander. The Free Seagull has moved to the designated position.”
Just as the operations officer reported, the Free Seagull was obediently following instructions without attempting to flee. Then again, with that much weight onboard, it probably couldn’t have run even if it wanted to.
“Hand the rest over to the security detachment and let’s get back to our regular duties.”
This was as far as the 2nd Search Battalion could go. They conducted inspections and searches on vessels crossing the star system, and if they found any problems, they filtered them out. Issuing fines or making arrests for illegal civilian activity was ultimately the police’s job.
The security detachment that had been waiting at the supply port had already been dispatched, so they would wrap things up properly.
“What do you mean two fighters from the 3rd Company collided and were damaged?”
Freesia tilted her head, genuinely confused. Fighter malfunctions happened all the time. No matter how well you maintained them, machines could break down anywhere, anytime. Especially since these were unmanned craft constantly being overworked on all sorts of minor missions—inspections, reconnaissance, escort duty. Small breakdowns were hardly worth mentioning.
The maintenance section’s most frequent task was repairing fighters. There was even a rumor that if you gave the maintenance soldiers enough parts, they could assemble a fighter from scratch.
But that referred to the usual wear-and-tear issues that came with frequent operation. It did not refer to two fighters smashing into each other, one losing a wing and the other losing its laser cannon.
“It started with a fighter from the 3rd Company’s 2nd Platoon. During an inspection mission, it experienced a sudden drop in engine output followed by a complete shutdown.”
“Hmm…”
That was a bit more ambiguous. Unlike minor glitches, an engine shutdown suggested that routine maintenance might not have been performed properly.
During a major war, ships were worked so hard that engines sometimes failed from exceeding their durability limits. But this wasn’t a wartime situation.
“The fighter with the stalled engine continued moving on inertia. Unfortunately, a civilian cargo ship happened to be in its path. Fortunately, a nearby fighter from the 3rd Platoon blocked it with its own body. The cargo ship sustained no damage, and the incident ended with the destruction of the two fighters.”
It was an enormous relief that the civilian ship was unharmed. Even now, this was no small incident, but it was something she could handle within her own authority. But if that engine-dead fighter had slammed directly into a civilian cargo vessel…
Just thinking about it gave her chills. How should she handle this?
“First, what did you do with the damaged fighters?”
“The fuselages have been recovered into the hangars of the respective high-speed boats. We are currently retrieving the fragments, including the broken wing.”
“The maintenance squad can’t handle this, can they?”
A maintenance squad assigned to a mere platoon was led by a staff sergeant at best, supported by a few soldiers and a single maintenance robot. They could handle minor scratches or simple repairs, but fixing fighters that had been smashed apart like this was impossible. Even the maintenance officer standing right in front of her was already shaking his head as if it were completely out of the question.
“If it’s just repairing the two damaged fighters, our battalion should be able to handle it internally. However, the engine shutdown that occurred during a routine mission is what concerns me.”
When the operations officer pointed out the exact part that had been bothering her, Freesia’s expression darkened slightly. The fighters worked day and night, but they weren’t being pushed hard enough for an engine shutdown to occur.
That meant there had to be another reason. The worst possibility was that maintenance had been neglected.
“It doesn’t appear to be a maintenance issue,” the maintenance officer quickly added, noticing Freesia’s drooping ears and wanting to ease her worry.
The engine had suddenly stopped, yet it wasn’t a maintenance problem?
“The fighters currently assigned to the 2nd Platoon are not Talum-class or Cutlass-class. They are Chris-class.”
“Ah…”
That single sentence explained everything. The Talum-class, newly deployed about three years ago, was the Federation’s latest fighter. The Cutlass-class had been introduced roughly twenty years ago and was currently the main fighter in service.
In contrast, the Chris-class was a forty-year-old relic that was now being retired in sequence—an obsolete fighter.
“Furthermore, the 2nd Platoon’s fighters were put into actual service thirty-seven years ago.”
In other words, they were time bombs that could break down at any moment. In a forward area, such scrap heaps would never have been allowed to remain, but this was the very rear of the rear lines.
The large-scale pirate raid last time had been an unusual event. Normally this was an extremely peaceful region. Naturally, fighter replacement was given the lowest priority, which was why these ancient wrecks were still flying around.
“The 3rd Platoon fighter is a Cutlass-class, correct? How bad is the laser cannon damage? Can it be repaired?”
“Fortunately the main mana circuit wasn’t severely damaged, so it looks like it can be fixed aboard the 3rd Company flagship. However, the Chris-class fighter will need to go through official retirement procedures.”
Honestly, that was for the best. Rather than keep hugging a ticking time bomb, it was better for it to quietly blow up and disappear while they could still handle it internally. This was the perfect chance to get rid of the junk.
Besides, since there were spare fighters aboard the cruiser, they could temporarily lend one out until new supplies arrived.
“Send the 3rd Platoon fighter our way, report the Chris-class to division headquarters, and begin retirement procedures.”
Frederick watched the entire process with a satisfied smile.
Not bad at all. When she had first taken command of the battalion, she couldn’t even handle simple supply issues or operation outlines and had been completely overwhelmed. Now she was responding to sudden accidents with composure.
It’s already been a month.
It had been a full month since the 2nd Search Battalion returned from the asteroid belt and resumed its original mission of defending the supply port. Although the 3rd Company flagship could handle the repairs, the 3rd Company was constantly moving between the warp gate and the supply port, operating fighters without rest. They were surely too busy maintaining their own craft.
In comparison, the cruiser was stationed at the supply port and only operated a portion of its fighters on rotation, giving the maintenance personnel more breathing room. It was far more efficient for them to handle it.
The fact that she could spot and address these small details without being told was truly impressive. The days of her screaming in the captain’s quarters during all-night overtime were long gone. Lately she had been finishing work around dinner time and was even occasionally seen at the fitness center. It was clear she had grown accustomed to the workload.
And today—
“Alright, that wraps up the fighter incident.”
Freesia’s eyes widened slightly as she moved on to the next item. There were no more pending matters on her terminal.
Why?
Was it really over? Truly finished?
She checked several times, but every item had been completed. When she looked at the clock, it was twenty minutes before the end of the duty day.
For the first time, she had successfully finished all her work within regular hours.