Asteroid Belt Search (2)
"Hurry up! Move it!"
The military port of Sagunto on Planet Nord was busier than it had ever been. The Garion System wasn't on the front lines—it was deep in the rear echelons—so while the civilian ports handling countless merchant vessels were always bustling, the military harbor usually remained relatively quiet.
It only got hectic about once a year during the rotation of dispatched units. Otherwise, it was considered one of the cushiest assignments in the entire military. Today, however, was an exception. The docking bays were packed with Behemoth-class heavy cruisers and Carnelian-class light cruisers leading the way, followed by numerous destroyers, patrol ships, high-speed boats, and supply vessels, all busily loading supplies in an endless stream.
"Just my luck. I finally get sent to the rear, and this is what happens," grumbled Romeo, captain of the 3rd Company in the 2nd Search Battalion.
Elmin, captain of the 2nd Company, nodded in shared sympathy. "Tell me about it. I barely survived last year, and now it looks like I'll die from overwork this time."
"By the way, where did the 1st Company commander go?"
Among the three company commanders, Jayden—the most senior and by far the most diligent—wasn't chatting with them. Instead, he was out on the field personally overseeing every detail of the supply loading process.
"Ugh. Does he really have to be that picky?"
Romeo had been exactly like that when he was a fresh second lieutenant, but after years of getting knocked around in the service, that kind of diligence had long since drained out of him.
What had taken its place was know-how and flexibility.
Of course, once loading was mostly finished, he'd go check for anything missing or see if more needed to be added. But starting from the very beginning like that was just a waste of energy. The military had divided up the chain of command and departments for a reason.
"He's got a promotion review next year."
"Ah..."
That made sense.
Even Romeo, whose diligence had gradually faded after making first lieutenant, had lived with almost religious devotion when his own captaincy review was approaching. He'd double-checked everything, terrified of getting caught on even the smallest detail, and actively hunted for extra work in case it might affect his evaluation.
And since this wasn't just a regular officer promotion but a field-grade one, it was no wonder Jayden was burning the midnight oil and taking personal command.
"The 1st Company guys are gonna drop dead at this rate."
"Doesn't seem like it, from what I saw. I glanced over earlier—he's not the type to chew people out. Looked like he was just supervising to make sure the troops weren't missing anything."
Elmin shrugged, recalling the 1st Company's work site he'd passed by earlier. Jayden might have gotten stricter because of the promotion, but he didn't seem like the kind of person who'd harass his subordinates without cause like some lieutenant colonels they'd dealt with in the past. That was a relief.
As the most senior of the three company commanders, Jayden was likely to take command on any small-scale operation that didn't require the battalion commander to deploy personally. It would be exhausting if someone like that went crazy over promotions.
"We'll have to see for ourselves, but he didn't seem like the unreasonable type. So let's just play along nicely."
They might eventually be reassigned to different units, but they were still in the same military. Unless they were planning to quit and get discharged, it was better to keep things friendly.
Besides, based on seniority, barring any major incidents, Jayden would almost certainly end up above them. Making a good impression on superiors was always the smart move.
The two captains were killing time with idle chatter when a loud, crisp salute rang out from the other side of the dock.
Wondering what was going on, they turned to see Freesia walking toward them alongside the master chief petty officer. Both men jumped to their feet in surprise.
The "chairs" they'd been using moments ago were supply crates. A quick glance confirmed they contained uniforms. They weren't hazardous materials or food, so sitting on a few uniform crates shouldn't have been a problem. Still, some sticklers loved to nitpick even minor things like that. No need to invite trouble.
The two captains snapped to attention with perfect salutes. Freesia returned a light smile and a nod before continuing on her way. She was deep in conversation with the master chief, flipping through various documents without pause. Clearly swamped.
With the uniform-crate incident seemingly forgotten, the two men breathed sighs of relief, found some empty crates, and sat down again.
"Holy crap, I thought my heart was gonna fall out."
"By the way, the battalion commander is really young, isn't she?"
"Probably around the same age as the 1st Company commander. This year she'd be thirty... three? Or four?"
Romeo's jaw dropped at Elmin's murmur. Thirty-three or thirty-four years old and already a lieutenant colonel? What exactly did someone have to do to achieve such an absurd rank? She'd looked young, but he'd assumed she was in her late thirties at least.
Normally, officers were commissioned as second lieutenants around twenty-three or twenty-four, then promoted to first lieutenant after one or two years. From there, it usually took another four or five years to reach captain.
Another five years from captain to major put you at around thirty-four or five. Then another seven or eight years after that usually meant making lieutenant colonel in your early forties. But this young battalion commander had shaved off nearly a decade.
"She's definitely on the fast track to becoming a general."
Making lieutenant colonel in your early forties was normal, but that was just the average. There were always a few exceptional talents who accelerated their promotions through outstanding performance and results, staying several steps ahead of their peers.
The young battalion commander who'd just passed by was one. So was Francia, currently serving as commander of the 1st Battalion in the 3rd Flotilla. From what he'd heard, Francia was forty-two and already first in line for promotion to colonel next year. Truly outstanding talents like them—barring any major mistakes—would eventually rise to general rank and become key leaders guiding the Federation military.
No doubt their own young battalion commander would be wearing stars someday in the distant future.
"Someone that talented must be good at everything, right? I get motion sickness just looking at paperwork."
"Probably. You saw her walking with the master chief earlier. I bet they're talking about things we wouldn't even understand."
Completely unaware that the two captains were rapidly developing a case of hero worship toward her, Freesia was doing her best to maintain a calm expression while her eyes spun in dizzying circles.
But she didn't understand. No matter how many times she read it, she just didn't get it. She could understand the individual sentences, but the overall meaning completely escaped her.
Over the past few days, she'd come to truly appreciate just how clearly and simply her subordinate officers had been writing their reports. Seeing the documents flying in without any editing while everyone was frantically busy was enough to drive her insane.
"Master Chief, what about this one?"
And she had no idea how many times she'd asked that question by now. They kept explaining that this became that and that became this, but she still couldn't figure out why.
I don't know. I don't know. I don't know.
In this military port where everyone was rushing around busily, Freesia was—in a sense—one of the people with the most free time. The reason was simple: she lacked the ability to properly command the current situation.
Freesia was thirty-four years old this year. Only ten years had passed since she'd been commissioned as a second lieutenant. In some ways, she was still at the age where she should have been a fresh-faced company-grade officer just about to eye a promotion to major.
Thanks to her exceptional mana sensitivity and control, she'd earned numerous military merits, received medals, and enjoyed an unprecedentedly rapid series of promotions to reach battalion command. However, the actual length of her military career wasn't much different from other junior officers.
After making major, she'd spent two years as the executive officer of a cruiser. Normally, that experience should have taught her how to run a battalion's administration. But during the war with the Holy Nation of Narcis two years ago, she'd received another medal that shot her promotion ranking sky-high. Before she knew it, she was a battalion commander.
She'd skipped the crucial phase where she should have been a company commander, directly facing her troops and learning command from above. Now she was suddenly in charge of an entire battalion. It was only natural that everything felt difficult.
Her unprecedentedly fast promotions had caused quite a headache for the military brass as well. They couldn't very well send someone to command a battalion if she didn't know anything.
Sending her as executive officer of a flotilla would have created the absurd situation of her learning battalion command under a flotilla commander, while simultaneously displacing whoever was supposed to be learning flotilla command from that same commander.
In the end, the military headquarters had assigned Freesia as commander of the search battalion while simultaneously forming a new fleet and filling her subordinate officers and non-commissioned officers with the most experienced personnel possible. This way, even if the novice battalion commander made mistakes, the unit could still function.
On top of that, they'd assigned her to the notoriously quiet Garion System to wrap things up more or less neatly... or so it should have been. But those damn pirates had thrown everything into chaos.
Originally, she should have been able to stay at the supply port, focus on learning battalion administration with help from her capable subordinates, and not worry about anything else. Instead, a sudden emergency had thrust the clueless rookie battalion commander into an indefinite long-term operation inside the asteroid belt.
A novice company commander would already be overwhelmed just following orders from above. Now a novice battalion commander had to make every final decision. It was enough to drive both Freesia and headquarters crazy.
Whether Freesia and headquarters went mad or not, Master Chief Fredrick answered each question one by one with a gentle laugh. Even for him, who'd served so long that retirement was right around the corner, this situation was a first.
A commander who'd achieved unprecedentedly rapid promotions but hadn't properly learned the necessary skills, supported by an elite staff packed with maximum experience. Of course, given how fast she'd risen, this new battalion commander's capabilities couldn't be dismissed. Still, the skills required of a ship captain and a ground commander were fundamentally different.
"Hmm? Master Chief, this part seems a bit strange."
"Which part, ma'am?"
"Here, in the Type 1 supplies, the food section. The supply plan is set for a month and a half, right? But in actual operations, we increase meal portions, so we really need two months' worth of food. On top of that, we load 1.5 times the supplies to prepare for emergencies, which means we should actually be loading enough for three months. Yet it looks like our battalion is only loading two months' worth?"
If supply lines were truly cut off and they had to rely on preserved rations while digging in, they could last up to nine months. But if they actually did that, no one would blame the troops for starting a mutiny.
Still, while that might be understandable on the front lines against enemy nations where real wars broke out, there was no reason supply issues should arise during a simple pirate search-and-destroy operation. Therefore, the preserved rations were purely for worst-case scenarios, and meals were supposed to be eaten as normal.
Reducing the food supply like this was naturally concerning.
There was even a saying that one of the reasons regular soldiers enlisted in the space forces was because they served the best food in the entire military.
Fredrick checked the section Freesia had pointed out and burst into hearty laughter.
"Did I misunderstand something?"
"No, ma'am. You're correct. We should indeed be loading about three months of food."
"Then we should correct it right now."
Fredrick stopped Freesia as she hurriedly reached for her military terminal. Stroking his beard for a moment under her questioning gaze, he wondered how to explain this.
Fredrick was a soldier with so much "seasoning" that retirement was right in front of him. He wasn't incompetent either—he'd served as fleet master chief before taking long-term leave, and one of his close contemporaries was currently the master chief at Space Force Headquarters.
He was, in vulgar terms, the King of Seasoning!
Even Flotilla Commander Lavair and the commander of the 9th Fleet, which oversaw the 41st Flotilla, would find it difficult to order Fredrick around.
After his long leave ended, he'd been looking for a final posting before retirement when the head of personnel and his old friend asked him to help Freesia. That's why he'd taken the position of master chief for the 2nd Search Battalion.
As such, during this operation, Fredrick was unleashing the full power of his accumulated experience without holding back.
The military rations were strictly two months' worth. In the space allocated for the remaining month's rations, however, he'd loaded every kind of side dish and snack he could get his hands on.
The cargo fleet had donated so many different types of snacks that they were practically overflowing.
In a mentally exhausting operation like this, the most important things were eating until full and eating delicious food. In that sense, snacks instead of standard military meals were incredibly useful.
When the troops were exhausted and dragging, giving them even a single bite of ice cream could make them energetic again for at least an hour.
What he'd learned over decades of military service was that soldiers didn't run on regular meals—they ran on snacks.
"B-but if we run out of actual food, none of that matters. We can't just pull supplies only for ourselves..."
"Heh heh. They'll send it if I ask."
"Pardon?"
"If I submit a supply request in my name, they'll provide it without a word."
The King of Seasoning, holder of the highest "seasoning" in the entire Space Force, was thoroughly teaching the novice commander—who would rise to high places in the future—the true power of experience and rank.