Mandat de l'impératrice des Cieux - Imperial Princess Troubleshooter Space Opera Quest

[Whiskey Golf]

"Johnny. Be a dear, and turn that racket down."

Oh wow, you think. Look who's here at nine on the dot.

The front buzzer had foretold their coming, of course, as had the chime of an opened door sans knock or ring their place in your circle of trust. Not lightly did Fleet Admiral Yonatan Chew give out the keys to his private kingdom. But it was the careless double-whump of tails hitting soft leather before your guest's body that gave them away.

"Welcome back, Maggie." you say.

"I'm back," comes the reply. "Still don't want to hear that holo."

"It's relaxing."

And you need relaxing noises in your life right now. Farewell drone-on reports, bad news and the tick-tock, tick-tock of your lifespan melting off from the stress, hello flowing cooking oil, whisked cream and tap, crack, omelette. What do the cool kids call that nowadays?

Eh. Whatever. You can't recall. Nice sounds are nice, and chase away the memory of shitty ones. Good for you, good for me. Oorah, carry on, Fleet Admiral Yonatan Chew - so you do.

"...Johnny."

You glance up past the top of your open kitchen into the living room beyond.

Lo and behold, to the surprise of no one (not that there are people around to be surprised anyway), there lies Amagi Ri-Sumeragi, draped across on your couch, luxurious dark-honey fur panoply of war shifting from side to side. She hooks one long leg into the air, bare but for her definitely-not-Navy-issue black pantyhose, her two long ears tapered just slightly downward as two long lashed royal blue eyes burn through you with her family's patented 'I-do-not-ask-I-demand' look.

And even so, you would have things to say about this, but for the long, plaintive growl that fills the room at that precise moment, somehow managing to drown the blender-whirring sounds coming from your kitchen holodeck.

Somehow, her face doesn't shift an inch.

Bah. Now that wasn't fair. At all. Which demon did these foxes sell their souls to in order to get timing this fortuitous?

You pause the video momentarily.

Also, had you mentioned that she was Sumeragi yet? Sorry, Great House Sumeragi. Not like they ever let anyone forget it, of course. Thank the Founder that ostentation bled out of the gene line if you fell far enough from the main tree. Well, almost: the haori Maggie wore over her navy uniform was still House crimson with black and gold trim. Not the most discrete.

But you'd seen worse from some court peacocks. Way worse.

Back to the delicate task of cutting up enough New Kobe short-rib, sirloin and Black Armand brisket for two, then. And best to check where you had been with that holo. See, ground could be given, but a man couldn't simply surrender the entire battle altogether. Something something, mile and lightyear.

So yes, rewind about thirty seconds back to- ah yes, here.

Beautiful. The sounds of sunflower seeds cracking on a tray as tinkling muzak plays. There could be no better accompaniment to your own work.

"You've listened to the 'Halva Marathon, No Talking' episode of Binging with Babushka a hundred times, Johnny."

Not really. More like seventeen - eighteen if you count this latest time.

She rolls her eyes.

"Ugh. You and your semantics." It doesn't surprise you at this point, but it never fails to make you a bit queasy that they probably get taught to read a thousand words into the least of expressions over on Kagutsuchi. That has to be the only explanation; you can't be that transparent, right? "I mean, this isn't even related to what you're making."

"It's relaxing. And pray tell, Maggie, what am I making?"

The fox doesn't even skip a beat.

"Oh, I don't know. Is it Ramly Burger or Ramly Burger?" Maggie glances at the 'loin, a sly smile forming. "Non-kosher too. You apostate."

In fairness, you probably should've left the apple cider vinegar and ground cinnamon in the cupboard for a while more. Right now all they did was take up space, not to mention give the game away.

"I'm at least two hundred light-years from my nearest blood kin." So saying, you pull the aforementioned section of ex-cow open, cutting out the silver skin; good, good. "God alone is my judge."

"Well, at least this one doesn't have narration."

You can practically hear the shudder in that last word.

"It's called a Slav affect," you insist.

"It's called the sound of Tsuugo dying the death of a thousand mutilated consonants," Maggie scoffs back, having shifted languidly from the couch such that she now has to arch her long, pearl-white neck just to see you. "The 13th Fleet's passing would sound more dignified, even coming from you.

"Hmmm. Wait, it's not being scrapped, is it?" She continues, flicking a hand out as though to banish the idea. "Just reduced. Pun not intended."

You look down at your meat slices, ready to cart off to the fridge for firming. Yeah, no, that was a real bad joke, even coming from someone who-

-hang on just a moment. Where the devil had that one come from? What Sumeragi Sorcery was this? The proposals for that were still sitting in your office holodeck, having come in late this afternoon, waiting for your approval. How in earth had she-

"I got it from you."

"I'm sorry?"

Swinging both legs off the sofa in an arc, Maggie begins to pace around the room in...oh, shit on a cheesecake, you know where this is going.

"Now, I know you're disappointed, ah girl."

Oh, Lord preserve us, she even has the accent down.

"And in your position, I would be too. But we can find a compromise: we'll need most of the larger ships, but you can pick a pared down command to keep...and in other news, I should back your father up a bit. So, are you still keeping every third noble boy in the realm hanging, or have you decided on one to torment for a while?"

Maggie gives you a beatific smile as she finishes her recitation. No, you're not cringing inside as you close the freezer door.

"A wonderful script. If you could ever stick to them...and listen to this: Have you looked at me? No looks, no riches. Hell, even I don't want me, so I totally get why I'm unmarried." The fox-lady sashays over, placing both elbows on your tabletop, her eyes shining expectant. "Ah, what would little Yui think? Her second father, in naught but a loose bathrobe, rehearsing his lines so he doesn't get caught lying to her through his teeth!"

Okay. That was too far. Time to lay the law -and the accoutrements- down on the table.

After you start heating up the oil fryer and frying pan, of course.

"First," you begin, tomato in hand, "stop with the 'little'. You're barely five years her senior. Second, we were in private, and that was my best bathrobe." You put extra emphasis on the word private. That means much, in lieu of what you- well, that's complicated. Complicated bad, simple good, simple with open-ended reading best. "Third, your silks are getting dirty."

"Please. We all get our hands dirty." Never mind, you take that one back. Turnabout sucks ass so serious that even the most effortlessly graceful of brow-arches can't make you feel better about it. "And please. You could never do any of your subordinates dirty. Much less that hatchling Masatada-san dropped on your doorstep for you to forge into a model soldier. You were always going to compromise with Yui, Johnny, early morning speech therapy or not."

"Oh come on," you groan. "Seriously, who told me that mystique comes with the rank?"

"Not I, honored lord." Taking her hands off the table, Maggie glides around the table and past you. Going for the snack cabinet, no doubt. You'd never say this out loud, but hot damn Great House genetics always made you jealous. "And tell me, is this how you bribed the poor, hungry girl after a miserable day at court? With food?"

"We reminisced over MREs."

There is a rummaging sound from behind you.

"Good heavens, and I didn't think things could get worse for Yui."

"Newsflash, Captain, 'Yui' outranks you," you point out.

Something is dunked onto the far end of the table, as if in reply. Whatever. You have accoutrements to slice up, and a good military diet to be on, one that most certainly does not include a reliance on the privilege of your birth to not balloon from the excess of your...excess.

You're three quarters through the onions by the time she says anything else.

"And does the Vice Admiral, the Royal Princess, the former Vicerine-Elect Yui Akasha get to eat at your table, o chef mine?"

"She used to help when her family came over," you retort. Unlike some layabout. You won't mention names of course. Officer and a gentleman and everything. "Now if you want to be helpful, you could help with the-"

The board that enters your field of view is a legitimate miracle. And you're not just talking about the way the Pallas Pipers are perfectly skinned, or sliced to thickness you'd need to put under a microscope to prove they weren't equal. No, it's the dainty hand -you could barely tell that they were a soldier's hands, though they most certainly were- that holds the board, and the golden sticks of starch laid out luxuriantly upon them.

Also, oh shit, had you even heard her cutting? Fucking Sumeragis.

"You know, you don't have to bring your work home," you say, quietly.

That earns you a huff.

"Nonsense, Johnny. You love having me as your 'everything officer'."

"That's not al-"

Maggie leans forward, putting a finger to your lips. You don't miss how her other hand reaches for the holo volume control, but damn if that isn't even the last thing going through your head right now.

...Fucking Sumeragis.

"Now don't be droll. I have naught but many talents, and I shall use them at my pleasure."

Yes she does, you think, and she does.

"Thanks," you say at last.

"You're welcome," she replies, "though I must warn you, my skills in this section of 'everything' are not House-approved."

"I...respectfully disagree with their assessment."

"Wonderful. So do I. I'll get the Worcestershire and the Biryani masala ready."

So saying, the woman who's shared your home for almost a year now removes to your side, a little further than elbow distance away, and continues her work.

The two of you settle in to a comfortable rhythm, in equally comfortable silence. You look Maggie's way from time to time. Progress checks, of course. Not to mention making sure the side effects of whatever she's hopped up on aren't triggering yet.

It's a real shame, you think. You could get used to this. Really.

But you won't - because if things comes down to a head someday; you know, just if…?

You're going to have to make sure you can still shoot first.

 

[Whiskey Golf]

Your name is Ayako Tomioka, and you are having a bad day..

You curse at the workload you have been given, managing the required paperwork to maintain the permits needed to obtain and keep the huge stockpiles of military hardware. As much as you remember, the Imperial government has already moved to doing their administrative work on electronic systems, but whoever it was you were communicating with in Fleet Activities Comberth keeps insisting that the paperwork be done on actual paper and sent by courier as opposed to submitting electronic copies. Normally, this would have be a waste of everybody's time, but all of the papers have had tamper proof verification seals attached to them, typically only used to verify highly sensitive documents, usually of the top secret variety.


You don't know why, but at this point in time all you could care about is how much trouble this was.


You sigh at the thought of more paperwork, and think about the new clerks that VSS hired at about the same time as you. While in theory, they were intelligent and qualified, you can't help but feel that they just might not be putting in their best efforts.


Which leads to your other problem: the low whine of your assistant's grumbling. While Xian has really been a great help, he seems to find everything in existence to be a problem and refuses to keep quiet about anything. He even grumbles when you assign him tasks to complete. While the work gets done, sometimes you wish he would just keep quiet.


"Those bloody fuckers in the archives, I keep telling them that we need the goddamned permission hard copies on hand and easy to find, but they kao pei and tell me the soft copies should be enough for any audit by the Imperial authorities-"


You tune him out. The past hour has been nothing but an infinitely repeating broadcast about how the rest of your staff should die in a fire, their families beaten to death by rabid cows... And several other things in several languages that you barely understand. Perhaps maybe at this point you should probably report to Lee Bashkan about the… diligence of the administration department.


Speaking of the boss, he hasn't reported in for more than a day, which is odd, given the fact that he would usually call every 12 hours or so for a quick check in while he was on the planet.


Either way, you are interrupted in your thoughts as the alarm klaxon goes off. The normal lighting shuts off and the red emergency lights kick in. The office goes dead silent as the ventilation stops. You instinctively put on your helmet and engage the life support systems on your space suit. You make a quick glance to check on your assistant, Xian, who has already done the same and is now unfolding the stock on his rifle. Wait, rifle? Why does he have a rifle under his desk?


Nevermind. You have more pressing issues to deal with.


You stand up and walk out of the office, making your way to the depot CIC. On your way there, you notice far more activity than normal, as the normally sluggish mercenaries move with purpose, carrying boxes of infantry smart explosives and handing them out to everyone they could see, while others are taping the same explosives to the walls and bulkheads before activating the proximity fuses. You even see a few of them dragging heavy weapons into position and setting them up, creating killzones in the corridors.


Entering the CIC, you see that several of the tables have been kicked over to face the doors with some of the staff in powered armor taking cover behind them, pointing heavy weapons at the entrance.


Looking around the room, you try to figure out just what exactly has gotten everybody in such an atypical state of activity. The console for sensor readouts catches your eye, as it shows several contacts on the screen. While it has been a while since you had to interpret sensor data, you can make a educated guess that there are several big contacts making way towards the depot at combat speed, four of which are, at the very least, cruiser sized.


The CIC supervisor, one Jane Tsai, notices you walking in and greets you with a quick dip of her head, as she continues to watch over the rest of the staff while they attempt to break through the jamming.


"I heard the alarm and came here as quick as possible. What's the situation so far?" you ask, trying to keep calm amidst all the excitement.


"Multiple contacts on long ranged sensors, a screening element of light cruisers and several capital ships, five probable battleships. They're claiming to be Imperial Navy on a freedom of navigation exercise," the CIC supervisor replies in the typical slow drawl of hers as if nothing was wrong.


You tilt your head in confusion and question her, "But why are we preparing to repel boarders?"


"All of the larger contacts are on full burn towards us." She snorts derisively. "The last time something like this happened back when we were in Eisenwald space, it was some kind of 'arms inspection'." She air quotes at the mention of arms inspection.


"Long story short, it was a ruse. We saw through it, killed them all and spaced the bodies. So rather than wasting time with playing nice, we are going to skip the ruse part and just kill them all." You can hear the veritable blood lust coursing through her voice and a quick glance shows her tail is, quite concerningly, flicking side to side, with a bit of force behind each swing.


Just as you decide to ask about what they are going to do if the inspection turns out to be legitimate, the comms operator calls both you and Jane over, as he plays the incoming transmission coming from one of the contacts.


"Veritas Security Services Depot Foxtrot Charlie Two Papa Papa Victor Eight Eight Zero Six Five Two. This is HIMS Kongou, Imperial Navy, flagship of Task Force Soyeon. This is a inspection under the auspices of the Mercenaries Armaments Control Act by the authority of Rear Admiral Constance Vickers. You are ordered to power down all defense systems and receive our boarding teams. We are authorised to open fire if you refuse to comply. Reply back on Channel 16 to signal your compliance. This message will be repeated three, say again, three times. Failure to respond after the third repetition will be deemed as non-compliance and will be responded to accordingly. I say again. Veritas Security Services Depot Foxtrot Charlie..."


You look at Jane and state the obvious. "I think we should give them a response."


She nods, "Yeah, it will give us more time to dig in-"


You shake your head at that response. "This is probably a legitimate inspection by the Imperial Navy. Not to mention that we are severely outgunned by multiple cap-"


"You know those could be decoys right?"


Turning to the sensor operator, you ask, "Are those decoys?"


"They aren't decoys, ma'am," the man on the console replies. "The contacts are radiating a lot of drive emissions, so either they used capital ship engines to build those decoys or they are capital ships. The second is more likely."


You turn back to Tsai and she shrugs. "We die either way if they aren't an arms inspection? Lee left you in charge, so I guess you can choose how we die?"


You sigh and reach for the phone attachment on the communications console. The comms operator gives you a thumbs up to signal that you can speak whenever.


"HIMS Kongou." You glance at the helpful post-it note stuck on the console. If anything you took some pleasure of forcing other parties to use the full designation of the depot on comms. Though, at some point perhaps it would be easier to get it renamed. You dare not bring it up with management, lest they stick the depot with another stupid overly pretentious name. "This is VSS Depot Foxtrot Charlie Two Papa Papa Victor Eight Eight Zero Six Five Two. We are currently unable to accept boarders until we have cleared the depot of armed explosives. Over."


You did not expect a immediate reply, but it came in loud, angry and overbearing. "What bullshit are you trying to feed us? Is this some attempt to delay the Imperial Navy while you destroy all the evidence? Need I remind you I have a baker's dozen warships watching you like a hawk? Would you like to complay, or shall I have my task force use your rock for gunnery practice? Over."


"They are pointing fire control radars at us Ma'am, they have at least one battleship radar on their side," shouts one of the operators.


You sigh at the thought of having to deal with another overly aggressive hotshot when you already have a entire asteroid filled with them. "Jane, how long would it take for the team to take down all the mines?"


She takes a moment to ponder before she speaks into her suit radio and waits for a reply. After a minute or so, you can feel the room start to quiver and rumble through your boots.


That probably was not a bad feeling, nor was it your nerves making themselves known


"We just took all of the explosives down," you hear your CIC supervisor report.


If not for the fact that your helmet was in the way, you would have been rubbing your forehead in frustration. Instead, you settle for just sighing very audibly. You reach for the comms set once more to send a reply.


"HIMS Kongou, we will comply. Over."


Replacing the comms set, you start to make your way to the main hangar. You hope that the maintenance crews were good enough to clean off the scorch marks and remove the shrapnel before the inspection team arrives.


About an hour or so later, the depot staff have managed to take down the heavy weapon emplacements and cleared up all the shrapnel from the corridors. The scorch marks, however,are there to stay. At the moment, you have decided to take over the depot wardroom to host the inspectors, given that it's probably the least questionable looking part of the place.


There was much grumbling and glaring as you politely ask the staff to leave the cupboard stocked with assorted expensive beverages and the comfortable lounge chairs. However, they quickly evacuate the room when they heard the swishing tail and growls of the tiny fox girl following you. You sit down and set aside a huge stack of fodders and several tablet displays. While the new admin staff is still working hard digging through the archive strongroom for the required hard copy documentation, you have very little confidence that they will be able to find the papers required before it was time. You sigh at the thought of having to come up with something to placate the inspectors.


Jane pats you on the back in some misguided attempt to console you. "At the very least the depot looks like it belongs to proper mercenaries?"


You stare at her with a flat look. At this point, there are no words to express your displeasure at your current situation. Her ears press flat against her head and she somehow manages to look even smaller than she really is, from your silent, vitriol-filled stare.


Walking over to the cupboards, a quick inspection revealed that the containers containing the good tea leaves are missing and you will have to make do with the bottles of pre-brewed tea. The disgusting, overly sugared, factory mass-produced for the lowest bidder kind of tea. Grabbing three bottles, you take a seat at the table right next to Jane. While the rest of the Imperial Navy investigation team combs through the depot, their leader will be interviewing you.


You really wanted that nice hot cup of tea before your day got worse. Again. As you open your bottle and take a sip, you feel the deck underneath you start to shake and tremble, the telltale signs of sombodies in powered armor approaching the room. The shaking stops and the door opens, revealing a pair of troopers decked in full powered armor carrying heavy weapons. You would have ignored their attempts at intimidation, were it not for the fact that you would recognise those colours anywhere.


After all, there is nobody in the Golden Orchid Empire who would not recognise the black and blue warplate of the Imperial Royal Guard.


The man walking behind the two slabs of metal and guns is unremarkable. Regulation navy space suit, with Captain's insignia on his shoulders. He walks in, his back straight, full of confidence. Both you and Jane stand up and walk over to introduce yourself.


The Captain notices Jane and looks at her quizzically; she returns the gesture. It appears that both parties were somewhat acquainted with each other. You interrupt their moment by clearing your throat and introducing yourself.


"Good day, Captain. My name is Ayako Tomioka. I am the administrator of this depot and in the absence of our commander, the person in charge of this outfit."


This breaks both Jane and the Captain's weird staring match and he replies to you, looking you right in the eyes, his voice strong and his pronunciation clear. "Captain Daniel O'Farrell, Imperial Navy."


He gestures towards the table. "We've got a lot of ground to cover, so why not we get started?" He looks at Jane. "I'm sorry, but I would like to speak to your administrator. Alone."


Jane nods in response and grabs her bottle of tea before leaving the room.


Both you and Captain O'Farrell take a seat. He speaks first. "So. Do you know what is the purpose of this inspection?"


You shake your head. Honestly you did not know what's the point of all of this. You were careful with your paperwork and permits and there shouldn't be any problems. "I am not sure myself."


He takes out his own tablet and scrolls down through it. "There are some discrepancies in your expenditure of munitions for a PMC unit of this size. Furthermore, your unit has put in a lot of requests for high end military equipment. We want to make sure that it hasn't end up on the black market.


"There are two things I need from you. Firstly, I need access to your mission logs-"


"I'm afraid I can't comply with your request," you say, summoning all your confidence and bureaucratic intransigence. "Our mission logs are privileged information, and I cannot release them to you without the express authorisation of Crossbone Vanguard commander, Lee Bashkan."

Captain O'Farrell gives you a mild look. "I was under the impression that you worked for Veritas Security Solutions."

You wince upon hearing that name. "Crossbone Vanguard is the Egon system force's callsign."


An awkward silence settles between you two. Captain O'Farrell is the first to break out of it. "So, call him."


"We can't. He hasn't checked in for more than a day and we have been trying to get a hold of him since before your task force arrived in system."


He raises his eyebrow. "Are you sure he's still in the system? Because it sounds like he ran away."


You roll your eyes at the accusation. Lee Bashkan is many things, but he isn't a coward. Nor has anyone in your company done anything illegal. "We haven't heard from him in two days and given that he checks in every twelve hours, this is highly unusual. We were planning on investigating but something troublesome and annoying came up and we had to deal with that first."


You don't know if the captain noticed the implication that his inspection was troublesome and annoying, but if he did, he wasn't showing it, as he tapped on his tablet and continued on.


"Moving on, I need to check on your permits. Hard and soft copies."


You hand him a tablet and he goes through the summary data. He has a full team going through your computer systems and equipment anyway. You take a quick look at his face in some attempt to divine what he was thinking. He reveals nothing.


"Well, your soft copy permissions are in order, but you know those can be easily forged. We would like to take a look at the hard copies."


At this point, given that Xian has been radio silent the past hour, you figure that he hasn't found the paper permits yet. So you decide to bite the bullet and tell the truth. "We…" You try to think of words that did not make anyone sound incompetent. "Misfiled the permits."


Captain O'Farrell gives you a flat look. "You misfiled the permits." He pauses to process what you just said. "You misfiled the paperwork for enough military equipment to wage a small sector wide war." He rubs his forehead. "Either your administration staff is grossly incompetent or you must think that I and by extension, the Navy, would be stupid enough to accept such a excuse."


He stands up. "If you excuse me, I must make a report to my superior. Have a good day, Miss Tomioka."


He walks right out of the room and the two suits of powered armor follow him.


Right after that, a bunch of VSS staff floods right back into the room, taking over the rest of the empty couches. It seems that they were quite literally camping outside the doors and waiting for the chance to be reunited with their comfy couches. You sigh at their lack of professionalism.


Several hours later, you get word from one of the Imperial Marines walking around the depot that the captain was looking for you in the shuttle bay, and so you make your way to there to have a word with him.


It seems that he has finished touring the rest of the depot. You notice the Imperial Marines have started to clear out from the corridors and the VSS staff were cleaning up, putting back the things taken out during the inspection.


You meet up with the captain in the shuttle bay. He stands there waiting. When you approach him, he speaks. "The commander of our task force is willing to give you two days to cough up the paperwork, both the mission logs and the hard copy permits. If you do not turn up with the required items, we will confiscate all your weapons and equipment. Once you have everything in order, you may contact Kongou on Channel 14 and we will send people over to finish the inspection."


He turns around and walks towards his shuttle without saying anything else. How rude. You get the feeling that he does not like you or has something against you.


Not that you have time to care about such things. You need to organise a search party for your boss and get Xian to unfuck the paperwork.


Hopefully, the next two days will be better.

 

[Whiskey Golf]

Your name is Ayako Tomioka, and you are still trying to unfuck your bad day.

About eight hours later, despite the fire lit underneath the entire depot, the staff have yet to find a copy of the permits. Neither has the team sent to search for Lee gotten in contact with the depot command center with any significant news. Jane assures you that they will be fine.

So here you are, along with Xian and Jane, searching Lee's personal office. You would have tasked some other random staff in the admin department to do it, but Jane and Xian insisted that Lee would be less upset if his command staff turned over his office as opposed to having less trusted personnel go through his things.

Not to mention that Xian would have an easier time spotting and disarming the traps that Lee is rumored to have rigged his office with and that having lesser people moving around Lee's office means lesser people to set off the traps.

Silently, you thank the Empress that Lee wasn't insane or paranoid enough to set up lethal defensive measures. A loud bang echoes through the corridor as a bright flash and the intruder alarms ring out. Jane curses and radios the command center to cancel the alarm. This was the third trap that he has triggered so far. On the other hand, you are very optimistic that Lee has probably ran out of places to rig traps in, given the giant pile of flash bangs and tear gas grenades piled up in the middle of the room.

While Xian is still working on making sure that the office isn't going to be a deathtrap, Jane and yourself have been a bit busy, eating a leisurely working lunch which Xian has been complaining about while he has been working on the office. It's not all fun and games though, You've been watching the security cam footage for the archive room, in an effort to track down the physical copies of the permits. Once again, you thank the Empress that the Comberth staff responsible for issuing the permits were so anally paranoid and had tamper proof verification seals tagged on to them, at the very least it made the papers visually distinct on the camera footage.

You take a glance at Jane, who so far has been a bit of a bother with her tablet, playing some weird mobile game whilst eating lunch. Supposedly, she was in contact with the ground team, monitoring their current status. You don't see the point of such an action, given that a full section of powered armored marines would have the situation under control. At the very least, when it comes to combat operations, you are pretty satisfied that the staff are rather competent and are rather cautious about things. Curiously over the course of two hours, apparently she had been giving them what appeared to be etiquette lessons and what appeared to be instructions on what to buy as a gift when visiting a person's house.

You wish that the company had the budget to install a surveillance and tracking AI for the monitoring systems so that you didn't have to suffer such tedium. Or at the very least, for Jane to provide you with another pair of eyes. Sighing at that thought, you take off your glasses and rub your eyes.

She glances at you and tilts her head to the side. As if reading your mind, she replies to your rather non-verbal wish for assistance. "What? I need to keep watch over those knuckleheads, else that purple haired bitch tries to kill them again over some weird offense. And I would rather not explain to the boss why we had to man handle his wife in front of their daughter." She pauses dramatically. "Again." She scarfs down another rice ball as she continues to tap on her tablet and make flashy lights go off on the screen. "Even though she totally deserved it."

You pause the video footage and stare at Jane. That was something new. "I wasn't aware that Lee was married with children."

Jane looks at you and taps on her chin, trying to remember something. "Oh yea, you joined us a year ago, a few months after they decided to live on the planet." Jane grimaces. "You should be thankful you didn't have to deal with Mrs. Lee. On the other hand, You missed out on seeing his daughter. Cute girl, very sweet."

"Well, what are their names?"

Jane shrugs. "They never really gave us their names. Lee just shrugs and says it's up to them to tell us. The bitch just straight up told us that she doesn't have to give their names to their lessers."

Wow, how rude. It's probably safe to assume that Mrs. Lee is probably some kind of noble. Though you wonder how did the boss attract and hold the affections of what appears to be a really spoiled noble lady. After all, you can probably assume that he's a commoner, given how his speech and mannerisms are rather plebeian, more so with how the man is usually extremely vulgar and uncaring about his appearance. This is before considering how much of a penny pincher he is, often being very anal about spending money even on essential items like life support. Really, the completely opposite of a stereotypical noble. The kind of person that someone like the current Mrs. Lee would think of as beneath her.

You try to press Jane on what details she can actually provide on your boss. After several minutes of shrugging and I don't knows from Jane, you both realise that none of you actually knows anything about the person who has theoretical control over your lives and wallets. You start to feel more doubts about this naval arms inspection, given the fact that despite being in the middle of some backwater system in the middle of nowhere, the company you worked warranted the response of a battle group, as opposed to the usual cruiser patrol for an investigation.

Looking at the apprehensive look on her face, you realise that Jane has the same doubts as well. Just then, Xian walks out of the Lee's private office, cursing up a storm. He looks at Jane's tablet and the empty plate of rice balls and rolls his eyes. "The office is clear enough for you to do actual work. I'm going to go get some food and rest. Have fun." Your assistant walks out grumbling about worthless fox girls that do no work and eat all the food. Jane pretends to not hear your assistant's grumbling and puts down the tablet. "Well, the permits aren't going to find themselves. Let's get this over and done with."

As much as a slob Lee is usually, his belongings in the drawer of his desk are rather neatly arranged. You noticed that the guns, ammo and the explosives were some of the most accessible items in his office. Curiously, the only drawer in his desk that wasn't trapped, whose handle was rather worn, contained a sheathed dagger and a photo frame.

The dagger has a very worn handle, with the grooves of the handle faintly stained brown closer to the blade, while the sheath itself was extremely ornate and bright yellow, featuring engravings of foxes and orchids surrounding the crest of the Imperial Royal Guards. Looking at it, it's pretty obvious that the dagger is some kind of ceremonial weapon. A quick glance to the weapons rack in his office reveals a curved longsword on display, the scabbard being matte black and vastly bigger than what a sword of that size would require.

You pick up the photo and examine it. Sure enough, it's a picture of Lee and his wife. Judging from the elaborate outfits they're wearing, it seems to be their wedding photo. Curiously enough, the woman is holding a rather swollen belly.

You hear a click behind you and a quick flicker of a lighter igniting, followed by a big exhale; you turn around just in time to have a thick cloud of smoke hit you in the face.


"You know, you shitheads should have realised that I wouldn't keep the permits that we need to show at a moment's notice inside drawers that have flash bangs and tear gas grenades taped to them," a very nasally congested voice says, punctuating his statement with a pointed sniff. Lee Bashkan sits on his chair leaning forward, a cigarette between his lips, looking at both you and Jane. "I'm not feeling so good right now, so give me a sitrep and do it properly, before you give me more excuses to make you scrub down every single fucking surface of this asteroid with your personal toothbrushes."

This wasn't the first time you've had to explain yourself to command, and you weren't the slightest bit intimidated by his demeanor, not helped by the fact that the boss looked like he should probably be resting in the sick bay.

You keep the report short and curt, bringing him up to speed on the details. The battle group parked outside of the depot. The seemingly hostile rear admiral leading the task force spearheading this naval arms inspection. The Imperial Royal Guards being part of the inspection team.

The missing permits and the ultimatum. How you had no authorisation to give them what they wanted.

He squints at you and Jane, examining your faces in seemingly great detail, before he raises an eyebrow. A sneeze interrupts his reply; he wipes his nose, looks you in the eye, and drawls, "You know, as much as we have a client confidentiality policy, I don't think obstructing the people with battleships parked outside is a good idea.

"On one hand I applaud your loyalty, but I would rather you not be responsible for losing our licence to operate, yes?"


He looks pointedly at Jane, "or you know. Dying in a blaze of glory for no reason, yes?"

Jane wilts from the sheer vitriol directed at her from your boss' levelled gaze. She shakes her head a bit to build back some of her confidence and fights back.

"That's not important. Is there any reason why the Imperial Royal Guards need a battleship task force for a mere arms inspection?"

Just for a second, you see the boss clench his teeth tight. Seeing his apprehension at such a question, you support Jane. "Is there something we need to be aware of where we are getting our weapons and what are we using them for?"

Lee rolls his eyes. "If you are implying that I am under investigation for arming or planning some kind of insurrection against the throne, I am not. Because if Guard Command thought that some random upstart mercenaries decided they wanted to play empress maker? It's not going to be an arms inspection. It's going to be an accidental munitions cook off with no survivors."

He waves his arms around. "As far as I know, quite a lot of our current stock comes from Comberth Harbor stockpile clearance. They are throwing out soon to expired stock and outdated equipment to make space for new munitions and new equipment." He pauses to cough, a very wet hacking sound rather than the usual dry cough. "One of the reasons why they are so anal about the paperwork. Given the fact that it's their arses on the line if we start off loading all of this bang bang to the black market or if we go pirate."

Jane's tail starts to swish around in that obviously agitated fox girl way. "This still doesn't explain how you obtained all of those permits and why the navy even sent such a big task force in the first place."

Sensing trouble, you keep your mouth shut and let Jane draw the heat from the boss. The fact that he has literally inhaled an entire cigarette in the span of a second is a ill omen, the fag turning into white ash almost instantly with a sudden flash of fire. Surprisingly, Lee does not explode like you expect him to. Instead he calmly scoots over using the wheels on his chair to his desk and snubs the cigarette butt onto an ashtray. He glances at you and waves you away from the table.

Placing his elbows on the desk once you vacate the desk, he clasps his hands close to his face. "What," he pronounces each word slowly, "are you trying to imply?"

"You are obviously hiding something that is going to get us all killed," Jane replies, leaning forward as if about to pounce, flight or fight reflex in effect.

Lee rolls his eyes and sighs. "Look, all of us have our own secrets. But I can assure you that I am not wanted for whatever the hell you can think of right now by the Golden Orchid Empire, nor am I marked for death by Guard Command. I am asking you to trust me and not to randomly pry into my past because we had some random fox bitch come flying in spreading her tails in some kind of show of dominance."

He bares his teeth. "Unless, of course, you would like me to inform your mother of your current whereabouts, Miss Tsai?"

With the mention of her mother, Jane promptly ceases any display of hostility.

"Look. We can clear this up in a few hours and we can laugh about it, okay? The very worst that can happen is that we have to explain to Xavier about why we need another extra allotment of equipment from HQ. "

That would have been somewhat reassuring were it not for the fact that Lee looks to be on the verge of fainting. Regardless, he still manages to keep that businesslike air around as he gives his instructions.

"Ayako, go grab Xian and get him to task a powered armor platoon to search for the permits. The verification tags should be giving off a faint electromagnetic signature, so suit's sensors should be able to pick them up. After that, get all the bloody documentation that you think that navy dickbag wants and then just give it to him. Arrange a meeting with him in… say 12 hours?"

You nod.

"Jane. Grab the CIC team and run through all the intel and that model of that pirate base we found. Recall the Baronche, Carrion Feeder, Deathstrike and the Lacerator. Get them rearmed as soon as possible and have them briefed on that operation we planned."

"You mean the one I said was suicide because they had cruiser grade guns guarding the place?"

"Well yes. Now that the navy is here, I want to ask if they are willing to conduct joint operations."

Jane grins sadistically at that thought. She leaves the room before Lee can say anything else.

You look back at the boss. "I'm going to the sick bay, get something for this flu. I'll get someone to muster the marines before I take a nap."


He walks out of the room, before anything else could be said. Still you have to wonder what kind of knowledge would one have in order to shrug off a battleship task force investigating them as not an issue.

There's also the fact that he refers to the Imperial Royal Guards as Guard Command, as opposed to the more commonly used IRG. You brace yourself to deal with another round of Xian's complaining as you make your way to the mess hall.

-=-

In the time it takes to make arrangements for the audit to continue, the Imperial task force in system goes down in size by a single capital ship and several escorts. It seems that the commander of the task force has left the system for some other reason, given that it was the biggest warship of the five battlewagons in system.

Oddly though, the person in charge is still Rear Admiral Constance Vickers. When you bring it up to Lee, he shrugs and says, "It's not any of our business and four battlecruisers would still kill us all dead anyway." He speculates that Vickers might not have been the person in charge until that ship left, though for what reason he does not know.

At the very least, this time you had the paperwork prepared and the authorisation to give them whatever else they asked for. The best part of all was that you had Lee to do all the talking for you. So all you needed to do was to just sit down and take notes.

Sure enough, the door opens and in steps Captain O'Farrell. Behind him, flanked by a pair of heavily armed Guardsmen in power armor, is a fox of average height. Unlike everyone else in the room, who's wearing some form of vacuum-sealed skinsuit, she's wearing the black on blue dress uniform of a Major in the Imperial Royal Guards, a curved longsword secured to the white belt at her waist. You feel a momentary flash of jealousy as you take in the façade she presents - the expertly tailored uniform that flatters her curves, the red noble stripe on her pencil skirt, her long silky black hair, her soft, well-groomed tails – she's everything you're not, the sort of girl destined for greater things, who never had to struggle the way you did to climb the ladder.

Lee stands up and motions for the rest of the party to sit down.

Just for a moment, as soon as Captain O'Farrell moved out of the way, the Guardswoman's amber eyes narrow as she locks eyes with your boss. In response, Lee merely tilts his head to the side slightly, a wide grin growing across his face. You catch a slight twitch on the lips of the Guardswoman as she makes her way to the side of the table, taking her seat opposite you, between Lee and Captain O'Farrell. She takes up a tablet and nonchalantly starts to read from it.

The two armored behemoths, however, stand right behind the Captain. Silent and unmoving, as they were the previous day.

As the chairman of the meeting, and the host, Lee begins. "Good day to you all. I have to apologise for not being available the previous time you were here. So let's just all get down to business, so I think you can all probably enjoy a side of shore leave instead of being stuck with us, yes?"

He pointed to the pile of papers, the electronic tags making them even more obvious. "The permits all signed and tagged by Fleet Activities Comberth." Both of the investigators take the papers and begin to scan through them. The Guardswoman reaches into one of her pockets to pull out a seal reader and plugs it into one of the tags. The paper flashes and glows slightly as the papers display another layer of information. She nods to the Captain on the other end of the table.

O'Farrell then clears his throat. "So summarize it for me. Why would you need military ordnance against a bunch of yokels with ramshackle civilian ships?"

Lee looks at you, then looks at the Guardswoman. You shrug your shoulders, while the Guardswoman just blinks. You can swear that was a pattern to how she blinked. Lee just sighs and replies, "Well, unless you want to accuse me of forging sensor data next. The last year's worth of readouts show that we have been dealing with at least four destroyer sized vessels. At the very least, they have military grade radars and countermeasures, not to mention that the drive outputs are putting out vastly more energy than anything we can see from crash converted civilian freighters."

He pulls out a specific file. "This is after they tried to orbitally bombard Egon with a heavy cruiser. Which we drove off using civilian grade weaponry." He throws it at the Captain and the report lands with a thud right in front of him. Both men lock eyes and stare at each other, wordlessly trying to kill each other using their eyes, it seems.

"Let us assume that you can tell the difference between a cruiser and a big freighter and that the cruiser actually existed. You want us to believe that you somehow managed to drive away a naval heavy cruiser, using low yield explosives, steel core rods and low yield energy weapons?"

Lee rolls his eyes. "If you actually read the report. The Earl feigned surrender and we made a Eisenwald schnitzel delivery. The IED went off inside the cruiser. We took advantage of the confusion that caused and used a pair of pre-prepared freighters to ram the cruiser. While they managed to jump out, they will never be able to fix it without a proper shipyard. The last we know, they stripped it of anything useful and used the weapons to up gun their hideout."

"Why aren't the pirates dead, given your expenditure of munitions?"

"They are pirates, they don't stand and fight. The moment I jump in a destroyer and have them fire off everything, they jump out almost immediately."

"Why didn't you pursue the pirates?"

Lee scoffs at the question. "Do you enjoy sticking your dick into random holes in the middle of nowhere? Because the first time we tried, we jumped into a pre-prepared mine field."

Lee and O'Farrell spend the next two hours gunning for each other verbally while reviewing your data. Thankfully, it hasn't gotten to the point whereby either side was going to literally gun for each other. The captain excuses himself and leaves the room to confer with his superior, one of the troopers following him.

A few minutes later, he comes back in and sits down. "We can conclude the audit here, there's nothing else we need to check or ask."

Lee claps his hands together, the sound drawing the attention of the entire room; one of the troopers raises his weapon slightly, before lowering it. "So with that out of the way. Why not we discuss business?" He activates the projectors to display a space station. "We know where these pirates are and for a negotiable fee and a bit of gunnery practice on your end, we can seize the station for you, intact."

The captain raises his eyebrows. "What do you mean, gunnery practice?"

Lee points out several structures on the station. "Anyway, like I was saying before, they had a hideout that they bolted a bunch of cruiser guns to and we know exactly where it is. It's just that none of our ships can handle that kind of firepower."

He gestures wildly with both hands. "But given that you brought several battlecruisers here, I'm thinking that you can shoot out their guns, then I can have a troopship deliver a company of my guys to seize the station."

"And how do we know that this station belongs to these…." Captain O'Farrel takes a slow pause here. "Pirates?"

"The Egon PDF managed to milk the prisoners we brought back. Combined with a bit of analysis work based off their raid targets and sightings. On a hunch we sent in a few sensor drones and captured a glimpse of the station. So over a period of a few months or so we jumped in a few times to get a better picture of the thing, coupled with the fact that we have caught several known pirate vessels docked in that station a few times."

"How can I trust that this isn't some kind of plot for you to knock off some person or another for your gain?"

Lee rolls his eyes. If it was possible, they would have rolled a full 360 degrees. "Look, at the end of the day, I sort of would rather not have to deal with pirates armed with military grade anything. And I'll bet neither does the Imperial Navy want to let a bunch of pirates do anything but choke to death. So I'll be willing to just sell you all the information I have on hand, including the coordinates for that base. I say sell and not give because it wasn't free to obtain in the first place and I'm trying to run a business here. On the condition that you take my words seriously and actually treat this pirate problem as an actual problem. And if you still want our help in boarding the station, because the 13th Fleet's marines don't exactly look like they are particularly blooded, you can come back and we can discuss further business."

The captain cooly fires back. "Like I said: how can I trust that your information is worth the money you are asking for?"

You see the boss bite his lips. "For someone talking a lot about trust. I don't see why I should trust you to do anything right. Clearly the Imperial Royal Guards have so little trust in whoever the fuck is in charge of you. Given that Foxhound has decided to stick their noses into whatever mess this is."

A soft cough interrupts whatever else Lee has to say. Captain O'Farrell, Lee and yourself glance over at the Guardswomen, sipping daintily at the bottle of tea placed in front of her. She looks up and meets all of your gazes in turn. "We would be derelict in our duties to the Empire if we were not ever vigilant, watching everyone and everything. None are above suspicion." Soft spoken as it was, you could tell there was weight behind those words. "Such as how certain words, interpreted in certain ways, can be deemed as betrayal." She shoots a look at Lee and you see that he's pale as a sheet, his confidence shaken. "Of which you should know the price." She smiles toothily, her fangs visible against her lips. "Of course, I am only joking, much as our mercenary commander is."

Lee just laughs nervously. "Yes, I was only joking."

The Guardswoman turns towards the Captain. "Captain, I believe that you should bring Mr. Bashkan's proposal back to the Rear Admiral. As much as he is a commoner mercenary, I think that given how his company has been nothing but accommodating to us, we should extend VSS some trust in these matters. Though, if you still have concerns, I am willing to personally verify Mr. Bashkan's information, while you discuss matters with Rear Admiral Vickers."

Captain O'Farrell nods and stands up. "I'll leave that to you then, Major." He walks out, escorted by one of the troopers.

Lee turns to you. "Ayako, I need you to check up on Jane. Could you go to CIC and see how she's doing?"

You feel that something is not right with this situation, but seeing as Lee was the one waving you out, you comply and leave the room room, leaving Lee with the Guardswoman and her remaining trooper.

-=-

Eventually, the meeting concludes with a deal in the company's favor. While you can tell that Lee is extremely unhappy about only getting enough money to cover the estimated costs for this operation, he isn't entirely upset given that the company gets full salvage rights for whatever hardware you manage to take, so as long as the imperial investigation team gets to examine it to their heart's content.

About an hour later, Lee calls you to his office. As you open the door, you are greeted by a huge cloud of thick smoke, the ventilation systems failing to keep up with Lee's substance abuse. You gag at the smell of whatever it is that your boss smokes. The pile of less lethal ordnance still in the middle of the room. And the previously empty ashtray on his desk is filled with cigarette butts.

You resist the urge to put your helmet on; politeness dictates that you talk to him face to face. "Boss, you called for me?"

Lee stubs another cigarette into the already filled tray and sighs. "Yea. I did. Remember how that you are second in charge? In the next six months or so, you will be learning to do what I'm doing, just in case, you know, if I get promoted to customer or something."

That's rather strange coming from Lee, since he owns part of the company anyway. From what you can tell he has never been dissatisfied with the job, not to mention that he gets along with the staff most of the time. Given how he has literally been smoking away the past hour, this has to be something relatively recent.

"Might I ask why, sir?"

He sighs. "Well, as I said previously in the last performance review, you might not be as experienced as the rest of the command staff, but at the very least you seem to be less overtly aggressive. This is in fact a very good thing given how the rest of them are bloodthirsty and trigger happy."

You shake your head. "No not that, I would like to know the reason why you think you would be leaving the company soon. Given that you plan on giving me more responsibility and work, it would be nice to know why."

He sighs. "Yea, I suppose that's only fair, no? So first of all, some disclaimers. I can only tell you vague things. Most of it will be true. But do not try and dig into things, lest you draw the wrong kind of attention. Swear this to me."

You nod and reply to him. "I swear to you that what you say will stay in this room."

Lee takes off his gloves and places them on the table.

He pulls the dagger out of his drawer and draws it from the sheath and slits his right palm with but a touch of the blade. Flipping the dagger, he catches it by the blade and holds the handle out to you. Wait. Is he expecting you to swear a blood oath? This was the kind of thing you'd expect from some corny vid series about the nobility. You decide to humor him at least.

You mimic his actions and shake his bloodied hand with yours. As soon as the handshake is complete, he sprays down both your hands with disinfectant and puts his gloves back on.

"Yea, I know what you are thinking. Weird right? But this was how it was for me back in the Guards. Quite a lot of ritual and tradition in the way we do things."

"So if you probably haven't figured things out by now, I used to be a Guardsman. Our friend the pretty Guardswoman basically passed me a message from my mom. With the current situation as it is, she would be more comfortable if she had people she could trust on hand."

You tilt your head to the side in confusion. "What does your mother have anything to do with the current situation?"

"Eh, I come from a Guards family. My ancestors have been in what is now known as the Imperial Royal Guard since before there was an empire. Empress Hagoromo's retainers basically. So, mom is somewhere up there in hierarchy, I never really asked, but odds are she's above Kazusa, the one that I was talking to."

Your jaw drops in disbelief. You think he is lying, though given the past day or so, you are willing to give him the benefit of the doubt. More so since he somehow managed to obtain all those permits without much obstruction. "Why would you be out here running a mercenary outfit if you really are some important noble officer?"

He snorts. "Office politics."

You echo his words in disbelief. "Office Politics?"

He takes it as a sign to continue. "Yea, Office politics. Look as much as the Guards like to portray themselves as selfless Guardians of the Throne, at the end of the day, they are only people. I can seriously say as a whole, they are fanatical. When you mix fanaticism and politicking, you get assassination and ritual suicide."

You try to speak but he interrupts. "The Guards as a whole agree that we exist to protect the legacy of Empress Hagoromo. But we sort of disagree what that legacy is."

"That doesn't really answer my question."

He pulls out his wedding photo. "Yea let me finish. You can obviously figure out that yes, I shotgunned my wife. But can you guess her family affiliation?"

"She's a noblewoman?"

He smiles sadly. "If only. If she was just some random noblewoman, none of this would have happened. She's the heiress of a Sumeragi cadet branch. Now you probably want to know who is involved but for the safety of my family, there will be no names mentioned. Hell, if you want to sell me out, please do so to House Sumeragi. At the very least, they have no plans to kill me."

He laughs. "Because, I quote my wife, 'the wolves of Hagoromo make great pets when properly house broken, my family is not one to squander such a precious gift.' She means I'd make a very good trophy husband."

He grimaces. "On the other hand, parts of the Guard would just kill us all. My wife for being related to a Sumeragi, my daughter for the same and myself for bedding the enemy." He pauses. "Though at this point those same parts of the Guard are probably more unhappy over the fact that I killed five of them as my resignation."

Did he just casually admit to murdering five officers of the IRG? "Wait, wouldn't they have hunted you down for doing such a thing?"

He shrugs. "Office politics. Like I said, leadership disagrees on how best should we protect the legacy of the empress. Sometimes part of the Guard thinks that other parts of the Guard needs to cut themselves shaving. Fatally. It just so happened that someone way higher up on the food chain decided that those five needed to go, that I was in the perfect position to do something about it and they had the ability to make a better offer than what I was going to get in that room."

He takes out a fag and put its between his lips. "As for why I could trust those other people. Let's just say that they had the Mandate of Heaven on their side. Basically, they had a list of targets for me to dispose of. They slipped me a pistol and some other stuff. Told me where the targets were and how security was compromised in certain very specific ways, so I can get to them."

At this point, you just had more questions than answers every time Lee makes a statement. "So what happened that required the assassination of five members of the Imperial Royal Guards?"

He snorts. "Basically, my team fucked up an ops really bad, got killed and then to top it off, it just so happened that only myself and said Sumeragi were the only survivors, yes? Kind of suspicious, don't you think? Especially since you know." He makes a hole with his fingers on one hand and inserts and pulls out a finger on the other hand through the hole. "And yes, they caught me in the act, so there was literally no way I can deny that I wasn't having sex with her."

You can't believe what you're hearing.

"So, as much as there was an investigation clearing us both of any wrongdoing. A bunch of the more senior officers were either convinced that the Sumeragi that I was fucking planned everything or saw an opportunity to advance their standing by shaming my family, so to speak. So one of them decided to drag me into an office, blah blah blah. Make me a pariah. Crap assignments in eisenwald for any other members of my family still in the service."

He fingers the dagger. "She gave an ultimatum. Two ways I can avoid such a terrible mess, she said. Gut myself like a fish or finger my then uhh…. baby mother as the person responsible for everything that went wrong, they disappear her and everything is hush hush."

He mimes having a pistol on a free hand. "I drew the pistol that I was given and shot that bitch. I then proceeded to fulfill my part of the deal."

"Well. As much as my patron had the reach to cover up quite a fair bit of things. I still killed five noble officers. So I was given instructions to disappear." He scoffs. "My patron was very surprised that I actually manage to survive and contact her." He shrugs. "At that point, I was thinking she would have asked me to space myself or something. She anticipated that and told me that she would have disappointed her prime ancestor if she asked me to kill myself after all that I've done, given how her prime ancestor help forged the empire out of love. So she said I was free to go."

You shake your head at how unbelievable all of this. Taking your actions as disbelief, Lee continues, "Fucking unbelievable, isn't it? You can choose what to believe. Just don't dig deeper."

"This doesn't explain why you are out here, working for a mercenary company." You would one would expect that such an action would be rewarded handsomely.

He scratches his head, a uncharacteristically sheepish look on his face. "We are kinda bad with money. Lost quite a lot of it on stocks. So both of us have to find work. She works at home as some kind of freelance consultant slash designer for some engineering firm. And well, I do mercenary work, mostly because there isn't really much else I'm good for."

You still had one question on your mind. "And the permits and weapons? How did you obtain them so fast."

He shrugs. "No idea. I applied for the permits through the proper channels, they got approved a week later, then somebody called me and asked if I was looking for legally obtained cheap military hardware. I figured that this was too good to be true, did my own checks, had Rafiz check her side for me as a favor and turns out, yes. This is totally legal. Just extremely skeevy in the… insider trading sort of way."

"So when will you be leaving?"

"When you can kill me in honourable one on one combat with swords," Lee says, with a serious look on his face. You know that he's probably joking but at this point you don't really want to know any more. Seeing the sour look on your face, he laughs.

"Well to be more serious, I don't know myself. The message passed onto me was worded as a favor that I can refuse. But it's kind of bad to refuse a favor to your own mother, yes?" You nod to agree. "But I have my family to think of and I need to consult my wife as tradition dictates." He sighs. "But I'm also kind of worried about why my mom wants a wet works guy on hand, especially since the ascension of the previous empress."

You tilt your head. Seeing your confusion, Lee sighs and explains further. "Nobody expected someone as powerful and well liked as the previous empress to choke on her food and die. Add on the fact that the consort was a fucking coward and took the easy way out, means there's some wet behind the ears princess sitting on the orchid throne with no one to teach her the ways and means without ulterior motives."

He once against fingers the dagger he has on the table. "So besides the rest of the empire wanting a piece of the pie. The Guards will probably start killing one another over who they think should be the empress… Again. Oh and I suppose, a few of them will take the opportunity to fuck up Sumeragi space, I guess?"

He puts the dagger back into the drawer. "Anyway. That's not really any of your problem is it? We've got to show up that anal little fuck in the navy in a few days time. So if you don't have any more questions, let's get back to work." He taps his desk. "Oh and do me a favor, if you see Jane, tell her that if she's done with operations preparation, that I'll be waiting for her in my office for her. I am honestly sick and tired of the bitch war that she has with my wife. And would like to ask her what the fuck."

Once again, you look at the picture. It is no question that Lee's wife is extremely pretty, in possession of soft features and well groomed fur and hair, but then you look at Lee's face and back to the picture. While he has seemed to have put on a bit of weight, he wasn't exactly a looker back then either. He basically looked like one of those stereotypical gang enforcers in a cheap gangster flick. Now he looks like a fat stereotypical enforcer. "Forgive me for satisfying my curiosity, but the two of you don't really seem to have much in common, what drew the both of you together?"

He laughs at the question. "What you meant to say is, that I look like shit and that she's too good for me,yes?"


You nod at his statement, unsure of how to reply to his statement. He smiles. "Yea, I get that a lot. Most people are kind of surprised that I'm married to her. The less I say about the in-laws' opinions of me, the better. If you want to know how I managed to get my foot in the door so to speak, the details are classified, but rescuing someone from terrorists and the like is a really good suit remover."

He shrugs. "We got stuck in one of those life pods for a few days, so there wasn't really much to do but talk if we wanted to entertain ourselves. So we did and turned out we had a lot in common. But mostly neither of us really liked being nobles."

You wait for him to elaborate. "I didn't like Guard politics and she didn't like having to put up airs and having to watch everything she said and did as part of her extended family. We decided that we didn't want any of that for our daughter, so we decided to just find somewhere else to live, rather than deal with our families."

He shrugs. "Though odds are, with how things are, we probably might have to move back in with either of our families for protection, but that's something for her to decide." He takes out his tablet. "If there's nothing else, I have my own things to prepare for the upcoming raid. Once again, you are not to speak to anyone else about anything I told you here. Dismissed." He waves you off and you take it as your cue to leave.

You've got a lot to do, and even more to think about.

 

[Whiskey Golf]

Not bad, you think, admiring yourself in the mirror. For a man pushing 60, who's commanding a desk, you're in fairly good shape. You can wear your plate carrier and not see belly fat pooling out from under the armor plate, even when you're relaxing and not sucking your gut in. Gennermen, very good, I like. At least you won't look out of place at the course this weekend. Having the right gear is key to looking cool, but you can't look cool if you're out of shape either.

Your phone rings and you glance at the screen. You roll your eyes at the caller ID, pause from where you're adjusting your kit and pick up the call. "Hello."

"Hey Johnny, it's me," announces His Imperial Highness the Prince of Akasha.

"Hey bro. Sup?"

On one hand, it's terribly indecorous for you, a mere commoner, to be talking so familiarly to an Imperial prince. On the other hand, you've known each other for decades, you were young officers together, you were his mentor, you were best man at his wedding, and in many ways, you're the big brother Prince Masatada never had.

"I'm in town and it's a long weekend this week, wanna hang?"

"I think the sentence you're looking for is, 'Hello Yonatan, would you like to have dinner with my lovely wife and daughter and I, my most cherished loved ones whom I haven't seen in months,' or maybe 'hey Hyung do you wanna spend time with your other family on a weekend away,'" you say dryly, reaching for your earplugs and slipping them in. "This also I gotta teach you some more isit? Walau. Seriously. What la you this. Some prince you are."

"My mother-in-law's spending the month with my wife, doing some more mentoring," says Masatada bleakly, and you snort. "I heard that Johnny, don't laugh at me."

"Look, it's been thirty years already, surely you've made some inroads into getting your mother-in-law to like you. You can't be scared of her for the rest of your life, you're a grown-ass man, a Navy Admiral, an Imperial Prince. Besides, Tengku Fauziah isn't that bad."

"You only say that because she likes you more than me."

"What can I say, it must be my natural boyish charm." You grin cheekily, as Masa exhales tiredly.

"Look, anyhow, thing is I really don't wanna spend the weekend around her, can I come hang at your pad? We can do stuff, hang, I dunno maybe visit your mom?"

"I think it says something when every time you suggest activities for us to do, eventually it always ends up with visiting my mom."

"Aunty Naomi is the only source of maternal love I have ever experienced in my life."

You roll your eyes and give yourself a critical once-over. "Well, this weekend's not really a good time for me. I'm going outstation for a course."

"...you. Attending a course. On the weekend. It's not one of those weird hobbies you and Sasha share, is it?"

"Nah. It's a tactical carbine course, with some handgun training tossed in, it's being run by those guys on the insta, you know, the ones I linked you: Phuc Long is organising, Mojo and Thumb are instructing. Gotta get them autographs, and be able to protect myself, y'know."

"...Johnny, you're a Fleet Admiral. You don't need to protect yourself. If you need protection, the Navy can get that for you. Hell, I can get you private security - and before you say anything, no I don't care how you feel about money, I'm perfectly fine with getting you the best security my money can buy."

"Masa, I wouldn't be a responsible citizen if I didn't know how to take care of myself. Besides, after what we've been through, I thought you'd understand."

"Bullshit, you're being a mall ninja, we're not JOs doing boarding party anymore," Masa retorts, and you roll your eyes. "Also like have you thought this through at all? You're going to a course with dudes with guns. You're going to be surrounded by dudes with guns. Like damnit Johnny, are you trying to get yourself killed?"

"I think you're going to have to unpack that for me," you say mildly, adjusting your straps and tugging the plate carrier into a more comfortable position on your chest, and patting down your pouches. There's a reason minimalist JPC-style plate carriers have endured for centuries; millions of users, yourself included, consider the somewhat reduced protection a worthwhile tradeoff for lighter weight, ease of wear, reduced fatigue, and greater comfort.

"You're going to a class with dozens of dudes around you, all of whom have guns! This is the easiest way for someone to "accidentally" assassinate you! All someone needs to do is just trip in just the right way for plausible deniability - or even get some idiot who doesn't know gun safety and just put him next to you, and BANG! No more Third Star Lord!"

"Eh, I don't think that'll be a problem. Sumeragi's got a vested interest in keeping me alive: if I die, their investment goes down the drain. They can't turn me into an asset if I'm dead."

"I don't even… It's bad enough you're shacking up with that Sumeragi honeypot, now you're deliberately putting yourself in danger. Hyung, surely you can't be this stupid," says Masa disgustedly.

"She's Ri-Sumeragi," you stress. "Cadet branch, y'know, not the main house."

"That doesn't make it any better at all!"

"I think you're overreacting," you say calmly. "Nothing's going to happen. Sumeragi needs me alive so they won't assassinate me, and they'll cockblock anybody trying to assassinate me. I'm going low profile, I'm not making a big deal of attending, and anyway Mojo and Thumb are servicemen, it'll look real bad for their careers if a Fleet Admiral dies at a course they're running."

"Johnny, I need you here for a minute," calls an imperious voice from her bedroom, and you sigh internally. You've been doing that a lot when she calls your name; maybe you need to rethink the life choices that have led you to this point.

"Coming, Maggie!" you call back.

"My ears," says Masa flatly, and you roll your eyes.

"Yeah anyway I can't make it, I'm heading to that course. Sorry bro. Maybe next week? You've still got time before you ship out to Salsu, right?"

"Yeah, I guess we can do next week. Or I could drop in at your office," says your brother, with no small amount of resignation in his voice. "You'll have to make it up to me for abandoning me in my hour of need."

"Goodbye, Masa," you say, chuckling. "Well I gotta go, I gotta go layan my girl. Reconfirm with me later ya."

"Wait what? Your girl? Nani the fuck? Yoyo goddamnit are you falling for the Sumeragi honeypot?! Yoyo! Yoyo you fuck get back on the phone! Damnit Yoyo stop doing stupid things-"

"Bye Mustard, I love you too," you laugh, and you disconnect the call. You slip your phone into your pocket and head to Maggie's room. When you first bought your house, you'd initially decorated this room as a simple if large guest room. When Maggie moved in, she turned it into a gigantic walk in closet. You still can't believe the amount of clothes she has. A woman should not need a hundred different bikinis, and that's not even getting into her uniforms, dresses, lingerie, and Lord knows what else that inhabits her budoir.

"In here, Johnny," she says, poking her head out your bedroom door, crooking a finger at you in a "come-hither" gesture, one that comes off as more demanding than sensual. You make your way unhurriedly to your room: this is your house, your castle, you are lord and master of this abode, you won't surrender all your dignity and pride to an inhumanly beautiful fox with many gloriously fluffy tails-

"I borrowed your shirt. I was wondering how well it suited me, I'd like a second opinion, Darling. I was thinking of wearing it to follow you to your course."

- an inhumanly beautiful fox who's wearing your newest combat shirt, and only your newest combat shirt. She arches her back, posing before the mirror, and looks at you over her shoulder, her dark blue eyes locking onto your own brown eyes, like a laser designator painting a target.

It's not like it's the first time you've seen her naked. But your mouth goes dry and you feel an instant flash of desire. You try to school your expression, but you're pretty sure she can read you, and she knows exactly what she's doing and the effect she has on you. That combat shirt she's wearing is brand new; you've only worn it once. On you, the stretchy fabric of the torso section is clingy. On Maggie, it moulds itself to her body, skin-tight against the outline of her nipples, her breasts straining against the fabric like an obscenely tight tent. She pulls the hem down, and you watch as the fabric stretches down toward her crotch.

"I think you'd pull all the focus from the trainers to you," you say, mentally commending yourself for managing to keep your voice level. Maggie turns a pleased expression your way.

"I was thinking that it would be a good thing to come along with you on your course," she continues. "Couples who do activities together, who share common interests, have healthier relationships. I was thinking I'd try step a little into your sphere of interest. I didn't have the right clothes, so I thought I'd borrow one of your shirts. And, well, I've heard that going commando is de rigueur for this sort of thing." She smiles innocently at you, accidentally-on-purpose letting the hem of the combat shirt slip through her grasp, riding up. You keep your eyes locked onto hers and mentally start calculating the throw weight of destroyer Fubuki's railguns per one hour of sustained firing, factoring in reload and cooldown times.

"I thought knives were more your speed," you say, and then you realise what you said and mentally kick yourself. You're supposed to be pretending that you're the harmless admiral who thinks with his dick who's been seduced by the Sumeragi honeypot. Some smooth operator you are, Fleet Admiral Chew.

If Maggie's realised the significance of that remark, she doesn't let on; she just raises one beautiful eyebrow at you. "Darling. I am rated Expert for both pistol and rifle marksmanship," she points out seriously. "You do realise who you're talking to, yes? A Sumeragi simply does not place herself in a situation where she may not excel. Your gun, please."

You give her a raised eyebrow and a sceptical look of your own, and move to your side of the bed, to your gun safe in the nightstand. You punch in the combination and remove your pistol from the safe. You eject the full magazine, clear the chamber, and insert an empty magazine into your gun, then flip it around to hold it by the barrel and extend it to Maggie, grip first. She takes it from your hand, ejects the empty magazine and inspects it, clears the chamber and verifies it's empty. She sets the empty mag on your bed and kneels beside it, ignoring how your combat shirt rides further up her frame. Her movements are smooth and precise; she carefully, deliberately disassembles your pistol. When she is done, there is now a collection of parts neatly laid out on your bed. As she works, your eyes are fixed on her, on her slender beautiful hands. She looks at the parts, nods satisfiedly to herself, picks up the frame, and is about to reassemble your pistol, when she looks up to you.

"Darling," she says, mock-chidingly, "you're looking at the wrong thing. There are better things for you to focus on." Her finger rests outside the trigger guard, pointing down. Your eyes track down, following the direction she points, before you wrench them back to look at her. Her smile is coy and amused, and you feel cornered. There's only one thing you can do.

"Your hands are beautiful," you say sincerely. "I think they're your best feature."

Maggie doesn't blush. "A Sumeragi is above such plebian displays of emotion," she'd once loftily told you. But her smile takes on a softer tinge, and her tails shift behind her, the way they do when she's happy.

You're pretty sure you're smiling like an idiot, but well. Some battles are worth losing.

So long as you win the war.

 

[Whiskey Golf]

--------------

SYSTEM LOG - ENTRY RECORD
Comberth Harbor, Deck 4, Central Ring
Spinal Office 4-01, Admiral's Office

0600 BEGIN LOG 0134718
0737 - ENTRY - LCP Tan, SGT Kohl
0738 - CONVERSATION - Archived/SGT Miller - Local ID 0134718-001, Comment: HOTO
0749 - EXIT - CPL Sakai, SGT Miller
0809 - ENTRY - ADM Kanda
0812 - ENTRY - CDRE von Zeppelin
0813:0821 - CONVERSATION - Expunged/CDRE von Zeppelin - Reason: Personal
0831:0848 - CONVERSATION - Archived/ADM Kanda - Local ID 0134718-002, Comment: Patrol Auth
0855 - BROADCAST/ADM Kanda - Fleet Patrol Authorization
0911 - ENTRY - CAPT Ketmanee
0913 - EXIT - LCP Tan, SGT Kohl
0914:0955 - CONVERSATION - Expunged/ADM Kanda - Reason: Personal
0930 - ENTRY - CDRE Muryoutou
0934 - EXIT - CDRE Muryoutou
0957 - EXIT - CAPT Ketmanee, CDRE von Zeppelin
0958 - ENTRY - LCP Tan, SGT Kohl
1000 END LOG 0134718
ADVANCE LOG 0134719

------------

23 May
4th Fleet HQ
Fleet Activities Comberth Harbor

Admiral Kanda Shiki stares at the frozen holographic map in front of him. In all his years as a serving naval officer, and as Commander 4th Fleet, he has never seen something as ridiculous as this. An invasion fleet, jumping in from multiple systems, entering the Egon system with a screening arrival. Almost as if it had deliberately broken itself up to avoid detection during transit.

Captain Mulia Ketmanee, the Siam-Astra scion, leans on one of the office tables as he types on his datapad. "That's a big fleet. No destroyers, though." His tanned fingers pause their typing for a moment to adjust the holographic projection. "Not that it matters, with what they're packing. If we take too long to respond, House Sumeragi will."

"Or House Fenghuang." Commodore Hildegarde von Zeppelin, Kanda's Eisenwalder adjutant, regards the map with detached interest as she paces around the room, her long white hair gently swishing behind her greatcoat. "Perhaps one of those snakes has finally made their move?"

The door chimes. Mulia reaches behind him with his free hand and hits a button, disabling the lock on the office door.

"Drop formalities, priority order. Top secret." Kanda pushes aside the datapad on his table as a voluptuous redhead enters his office, her silver and gold commodore's aiguillette glinting in the office's bright lighting. Commodore Muryoutou Himeno's light expression immediately vanishes upon hearing Kanda's words, the 4th fleet's ace turning to look at the holo-map as she walks into the room. "We just got this from the Egon system- so you can assume this data is already one day out of date. Arkbird, rewind."

The jump point begins filling with jump wakes again. First, light cruisers. (Of course they're light cruisers, no bloody merchant convoy would have the discipline to jump in such tight formation.) Then, heavy cruisers. (Definitely not a merchant convoy now.) Then battlecruisers and finally a battleship, all from different directions. Kanda and Mulia stare at the map, as if trying to will the fleet out of existence with their eyes. Hildegarde merely adjusts her hair and continues her pacing.

"Oh, you will certainly owe me a drink for this." Himeno slowly begins massaging her forehead with her right hand as she stares intently at holomap. "Admiral, your orders?"

"The Brutus, Sparta, Avalanche and Angelwing were getting ready to head out for patrol, so I'm temporarily reassigning them to your command. The Hyperion will take too long to get there, so take your crew with you to Anea and sortie with the Hyperion-A instead. Take this task force to Egon as soon as humanly possible and monitor what the hell that mystery fleet is doing. If you can head them off, do so by all means. Send back regular reports, daily intervals. From composition alone it looks like Princess Yui Akasha's 13th Fleet, but I need to know what I'm seeing."

"Aye sir," Himeno nods, typing rapidly into her datapad. "Anything else?"

"We'll bounce you mission updates as more information becomes available. You're free to commandeer any nearby patrols if necessary, but if our uninvited guests start shooting I want you to get as many ships out there intact as possible and raise the alarm."

"Understood. Is that all?" Himeno's fingers finally stop their typing as she lowers the datapad.

"Yes. Don't take any unnecessary risks and stay alive. We'll uncork the Sauterne when you get back," Kanda nods.

"Will do." And with that, the fiery woman is gone, her vermillion capelet swishing as the doors slam shut behind her.

"That's another ship out of dock. Aren't you afraid they'll find out?" The Siam-Astra scion lazily directs the question towards the Admiral, as he begins falsifying maintenance records for the battlecruiser. "According to our records, the actual Hyperion has been in dock for a month. If we sortie her now-"

"You told her to rush to Egon. Anybody with two brain cells to rub together will notice if they're paying attention." Commodore Hildegarde von Zeppelin interrupts Mulia, waving her hand at the holographic representation of the station's VI: a little white-haired girl in a white and black outfit, riding a colored cube. "Arkbird, strategic map. Imperial-Sumeragi border up to Comberth. Simulate the Hyperion's trip. Maximum speed. Do the same for the Hyperion-A."

"Yes, Commodore," the VI chirps. A holographic representation of Imperial, Sumeragi and Ho'ou territories slowly forms above a projection dish on the floor, systems fading into being as the map pans out from Comberth Harbor. A blue line extends out from Comberth towards Egon, stopping to rest at jump points as a chronometer begins counting up. A second red line, far faster, simply blitzes its way through Sumeragi territory, making only brief stops to recharge its drives.

"Estimate accurate to 5% error margin," the simulated voice chirps, the tiny girl avatar directing a pointer towards the chronometer.

"ETA 1st June. Two days faster, huh." Kanda mutters, staring at the hologram. "We'll naturally be setting off several red flags. Mulia, can you do anything about this?"

"Sure. But I don't know if they'll buy that we managed to crash-overhaul her jump drives." Mulia nods, typing into his personal datapad.

"If I were you, I'd get the Hyperion spaceworthy and send it to Anea to complete its maintenance cycle. Whoever's responsible for that fleet arriving in Egon would want to know how we got a battlecruiser over there so fast." The white-haired Eisenwalder chips in, staring intensely at the holographic representation of the Egon system and folding her hands over her chest. "There is the possibility that we're looking at AVALANCHE EXIT-"

"No. AVALANCHE EXIT is impossible. Not for another six months, at least. It's Princess Yui making a move."

"If you're right about who it is, we probably can't kick them out. So what will you do, o conquering hero?"

"There is definitely a good chance that TOTAL ECLIPSE may be imminent or has occurred. Even if it hasn't, the arrival of such a large fleet may provoke SHATTERED SKIES." The Admiral steeples his hands in front of his face as he leans forward into the table, the bright lighting of the office somewhat diminishing the dramatic effect of the action. "This, of course, depends on if Sumeragi detects the fleet movement. As of now, we have received no prior warning, nor have there been any rumors of such a large scale deployment. I'm hoping that Himeno can head this off before we end up with JUDGEMENT BY DAWN, although this assumes TOTAL ECLIPSE has not already begun."

"Ever the optimist." Zeppelin lowers her right arm and draws out her datapad. "So, what if it has begun? Will you pull the trigger, then? Assuming scenario FLORID SAKURA doesn't happen, we certainly would be able to eliminate her, the strategic situation afterwards notwithstanding."

"TOTAL ECLIPSE is unlikely to happen giv-" Kanda opens his mouth to speak, but gets cut off by Zeppelin. "And what if she's managed to convince the girl? It's not that hard."

"Unlikely. Akagi's at Jinko-sei. The odds of JUDGEMENT BY DAWN occurring from SHATTERED SKIES firing should TOTAL ECLIPSE have happened are close to 100%. Given that we've seen no Sumeragi fleet movements, I'll give it good odds that we're looking at an isolated incident."

"Fair point, but you'll need to wait for Commodore Muryoutou to return to be proven correct. None of this changes the fact that five capital ships just jumped into the Egon system."

"Alright. Then if we are in TOTAL ECLIPSE, what's our current status on implementing the op plan?" The admiral leans back on his chair and folds his arms. "Mulia?"

"Current active duty and auxiliary forces put us at approximately 140% strength, most of which can be relied on. Ramping up to full strength would take us several months and put us at 170%, with a maximum probable combined infiltration percentage of 15%. This number will decrease in practice, however. " The tanned Imperial replies, his fingers darting around a holographic keyboard. "Bringing up strategic map now. Arkbird. Simulate TOTAL ECLIPSE. Eden Star luminosity at 100%."

"Authorization confirmed." The VI intones, wiping the travel simulation from the map. Icons representing active navy patrols and the known positions of other fleets wink into existence, with a particularly large red blob representing Yui's fleet hovering maliciously over Egon. "Running prediction engine. Please hold."

The three watch in silence as icons begin emerging from Comberth and St. Hewlett, heading to their muster points. Two particularly large blue blobs spontaneously form from the active patrol squadrons, before pushing Yui's fleet off Egon. More fleets and task forces gather, engaging stray 13th Fleet elements and fighting off a series of attacks along the Sumeragi border. Eventually, the simulation freezes, leaving two massive warfleets staring each other down at the Sumeragi-Imperial border with Sumeragi elements still attempting to muster. "Four weeks." Kanda supports his chin with his fist, elbow braced against the armrest. "We could be in hell in two months."

"Or we could be dead. Should we activate LIGHTHOUSE KEEPER? You seem to be confident that we aren't looking at GUARDED OASIS." Hildegarde idly adjusts her greatcoat as she paces around the holographic projection. "Suppose it happens- Arkbird. Simulate GUARDED OASIS. Moderate severity. Skip to current time."

The icons reshuffle. The 13th Fleet penetrates a fair distance into Sumeragi territory, as a single cruiser task force desperately attempts to hold Comberth from a heavy cruiser force led by a Ho'ou battleship. Kanda watches with mild interest, his right brow raising a little as the map finishes rearranging itself.

"Do you see that, Kanda? If she wanted us dead, the only thing between us and your dear Taihou's claws is that sword of light that Ketmanee has built," Hildegarde hisses as she brings her right palm down on the Admiral's desk.

"Yes, but - Arkbird, end simulation - that's not possible." Kanda waves his left hand, as if chasing away an imaginary fly. "She's not insane enough to throw the entirety of her military strength at us. House Eisenwald exists and so do the other fleets."

"And how many of them are loyal to the throne? We've been preparing ever since the Empress died, Shiki. We cannot afford to be caught off guard." Zeppelin's hands grip the surface of the plasteel table as she leans in.

"I know that woman as well as I know you, Hildegarde." The Admiral draws himself up to his full height, easily matching the relatively tall Eisenwalder woman. "Sumeragi might be a problem for the throne, but Taihou won't be the one to force LIGHTHOUSE KEEPER. I understand your concern, but we cannot afford to waste our limited energy jumping at ghosts. "

"He's right, you know." Mulia rubs his chin. "Frankly, we can't afford to fight more than one Great House or navy fleet at once. Not with our current strength. We're almost guaranteed to defeat even the 13th Fleet, but anything beyond that is wishful thinking. Excalibur's powerful, but I don't think we want to put too much faith in a prototype."

"No doubt what we're looking at is highly irregular, but an actual mass invasion would have hit multiple systems at once. Yui has access to the capital's records, she would have hit the garrison ports first."

Hildegarde gives Kanda a skeptical look. "Or she's capturing Egon to use as a staging system for her attack."

"Why Egon? Capturing a system equidistant between Sumeragi and Fenghuang space just triggers them both to attack you. It'd make more sense to use a system in Takama-ga-Hara for that." Kanda shakes his head. "We're just jumping at ghosts right now. We'll wait for Himeno to report back first. This is final. Return to your duties. Dismissed."

"By your will." Zeppelin straightens her back, adjusting her greatcoat as she does so. "Before I depart, I will ask you again, sir. How will you respond to AVALANCE EXIT?"

"You are dismissed, Commmodore."

"Sir."

Kanda sits back into his chair, leaning as far back as it will allow, closing his eyes as his officers leave.

The Empire is in chaos. The death of the Empress has left the Empire wanting for strong leadership, strong leadership that her coddled child and her questionably loyal regency council cannot provide. The civil service plods along through sheer inertia, desperate to retain some sense of normalcy, either oblivious to - or deliberately ignoring - the increasingly unstable political situation.

Yet where some see danger, others see opportunity. The decentralization of power and the constant weakening of the once-mighty Imperial Navy has left the Empire teetering on the edge of chaos. Already the flames of rebellion smoulder, throwing smoke on the wall for those in the know to see. With those fleets loyal to the Throne stretched to their limits, relying on local forces and mercenaries to carry out even simple anti-piracy patrols, great power could be had...

...and all one had to do was light the spark and seize their own pretty kingdom for themselves, as the Empire collapses into infighting.

"Arkbird, expunge conversational log. Article 5701. Personal conversation."

"Of course, Admiral. Expunging."

 

[Whiskey Golf]

Login: SAC/bluejay17
Password: **********

Welcome home Ajay

Loading your newsfeed for 28th May ...

-/- Collapse

Imperial Senate votes in favour of improving local militia training and equipment​

Sector defence forces are to be allowed to purchase navy assets directly, Senate declares.

It added that warships of the Imperial Navy such as the Natsumi class destroyer escorts and Beluran-class light cruisers would be among those cleared for purchase.

According to Senator Alexis Talos, "combating the long standing increase in piracy across Imperial space is vital in ensuring a safe and prosperous future for the Empire."

Public watchdogs have protested the declaration, warning that further deregulation of weapon sales would make it easier for pirates to acquire military grade equipment.

This decision comes after the Senate had previously voted to amend the Outreach Charter on Mercenary Employment to create provisions for local governments, permitting them to empower private security companies under their employment to exceed limits on warships operated by paramilitary forces.

-/- Collapse

SA-Caledfwlch revenue jumps 40 percent amidst high demand for military refit​

Amidst increasing intensity of pirate raids, SA-Caledfwlch reports increase in demand for refurbished system defence craft.

Though demand for system defence craft has risen steadily over these past few years, the recent spike in pirate activity has resulted in higher than expected demand for SA-Caledfwlch's services throughout the sector.

To cope with the increase demand for refurbished naval designs SA-Caledfwlch is constructing new docks and facilities in the Vaizen system, SA-Caledfwlch spokesperson Rena Ziess added.

Analysts are bullish on SA-Caledfwlch's future earnings, especially with the recent amendments to the Outreach Charter on Mercenary Employment and the loosening of class and tonnage restrictions on system defense forces.

-/- Expand

Hit holovid series Aces at War season 8 draws to a close with a confusing final episode​

-/- Expand

New Vegas Cola recalled due higher than expected Rad count​

-/- Expand

Auditing firm SAPG denies allegations of overvaluation of Yeron stocks​

-/- Expand

Lower than expected yield in resource extracting operations around Sistema dampens growth expectations for region​

-/- Expand

Rising insurance cost forces smaller trade groups to enact cost cutting measures​

-/- Collapse

Imperial Navy looking into increase in pirate activities around Asaga region​

Local militia overwhelmed by pirate attack, say freighter captains.

Striking without warning, the warships of the pirate fleet Harley's Marauders struck the world of Kystein and, despite the best efforts of the Kystein SDF, made away with trade goods valued at over 50 million crowns on the 25th of May.

This marks the third time this month that the Asaga region has been hit by such massive pirate attacks.

Despite increased Imperial Naval presence in the region, pirate activities have continued to rise with many trade convoys bypassing the sector for fear of piracy.

In a press statement, Kystein Senator Shima Sanchez lambasted the lackluster response from the Imperial Navy in the region, citing heavy civilian casualties from the pirate raids - joining fellow Senators from Kenzhing and Kunlon who were hit earlier this month by the same pirate fleet in protesting "a concerning lack of commitment to the continued safety of Imperial territories".

"This escalation in pirate attacks," concluded Senator Sanchez, who declined any questions from the press, "demonstrates plainly for all to see the necessity of empowering local defence forces."

-/- Expand

Silent Killer: 7 Reasons why SA-Eisenwald's latest destroyer will be the ultimate game changer in naval engagement​

-/- Expand

Lady Akagi Sumeragi's new bikini line! Hot or Thot?​

-/- Collapse

SA-Sumeragi posts higher than expected profit amidst economic uncertainty​

Earnings driven by Hibiscus Energy, says analyst.

Amidst recent economic uncertainty, SA-Sumeragi posted higher than expected earnings thanks to their subsidiary Hibiscus Energy's Ultra Compact E-Battery, their first foray into the energy commodities market.

Some market analysts have gone so far as to say that the entrance of SA-Sumeragi into the energy commodities market has "turned the industry on its head. Hibiscus Energy offers a better product at a lower price point that their competition. This combination is simply unbeatable."

However, others are skeptical of SA-Sumeragi's ability to sustain growth into next year, citing a shrinking market for high power capacitors in the region and Hibiscus Energy's plan to open additional production lines throughout the sector.

SA-Sumeragi and Hibiscus Energy representatives were not available for comment at press time.

-/-

...

End of newsfeed

End Session Y/N?

>Y

Logging out. Goodbye.

 

[Whiskey Golf]

An infernal vibrating clatter sounds, and you reluctantly force your eyes open. You reach for your phone, silence the alarm, and glare at the display. Why the fuckspiders do you have to wake up so goddamn early again? Right, you promised Yui you'd cook breakfast for her. Up and at it, Johnny-boy.

You sigh and lower your phone, staring at the ceiling for a moment. There's a stirring beside you and you turn your head. Curled up next to you, wrapped around your other arm, lies your better half. In bed, wearing one of your old shirts, hair tousled by sleep, her face peaceful in slumber, Maggie looks a far cry from her usual self. A smile makes its way to your lips; you don't think you'll ever get tired of waking up beside her. You sigh again, and extract your arm from her grasp; Maggie makes a displeased sound as your warmth leaves your bed.

"Johnny?" she mumbles sleepily.

"Go back to sleep, Maggie," you say gently, planting a kiss to her temple. You sigh again as you disrobe and enter the shower, and step into the full blast of the spray. You stand there for a while, longer than your usual custom. Not as prompt as you were expected to shower, back when you were enlisted, but you haven't been enlisted for a long time now. Sometimes, like right now, on the cusp between sleep and wakefulness, a full spray of hot water in your face, you wonder why you still affect enlisted sensibilities. Finally, after a relative eternity, you step out of the shower, towel off, and return to your bedroom, where you notice two things: First, your suit, which you'd laid out last night, is missing its jacket. Second, your bed is empty.

You dress quickly, and take a moment to admire yourself in the mirror. You do look quite dapper in this suit. Given what it'd cost your wife, it should damn well make you look good.

You make your way to the kitchen, and come to a stop in the doorway, watching the scene unfold. Maggie stands at the counter, wearing naught but your suit jacket. Her usual swift and sure movements are slowed by her recent wakefulness, and she stifles a yawn as she assembles slices of ham and cheese on crackers, topped with a stuffed olive. She brings out another plate and slices pickled cucumbers into long cuts, arranging them on the plate and pouring salt into a tiny soy sauce dish. She steps back, gives the plate a critical glare, and fiddles with her plating.

Her bed hair is still an unkempt mess, barely tamed by the fingers she uses as a comb. There are bags under her eyes, she's still bleary-eyed, with no makeup at all, a far cry from the elegant facade that Captain Amagi Ri-Sumeragi presents to the world. And yet despite all that, a smile makes its way to your face. You don't think you've ever seen her look more alluring than she does right now. My wife is the most beautiful woman in the world, you think.

You open your mouth to greet her, as she looks up and catches your eye. "Good morning, Johnny. Be a dear and go get me a mug."

"Yes, Maggie," you reply. You set aside your indignation at how she's lording over you in your own house; when your sleepy wife makes you a breakfast snack, the correct response is to be grateful and do for her what she wants. You grab her mug, fill it with the blessed coffee, and bring it to her: she takes it, drops in three sugars, just the way you like it, and pours milk into the mug, tilting it this way and that, presenting you with the finished product: a cappuchino, with an intricate cappuchino art decoration of flowers and hearts.

"Oh," you say dumbly. "I thought you wanted me to get you a coffee."

Maggie merely exhales and gives you a flat look; you take the hint and take a sip of the cappuchino, then another, then another. Damn, that's good. This cappuchino looks and tastes like it came out of a high end coffee shop, the kind that Maggie favors. You set the mug down and reach for the snack plate; Maggie reclaims her mug and takes a sip, with a pointed look at you.

You ignore the voice in your head that's making juvenile noises about indirect kisses, you're not a teenager anymore, and an indirect kiss is pretty smalltime, given that you're both living together. Instead, you remember where those lips have been, and what they've done, and how they felt, and you smile.

Maggie's mental defenses must be still downlined, because she smiles at you in return as she cradles her mug, holding it at chest height; your eyes scan the curve and swell of her cleavage against your jacket, while tracking the mug of life-sustaining coffee, locking on to her slim, beautiful fingers. You could spend an eternity just gazing at her fingers, but alas, you have places to be this morning. You take a seat at the kitchen island and help yourself to the plate, and internally marvel at Maggie's plating. You're a fair home cook yourself, and you'd like to think you can plate nicely, but Maggie's plating just blows yours out of the water: she manages to make zakuski look more elevated than Slavic snacks have a right to be. Maggie places her elbows on the table, and cups her chin in one dainty hand, watching you as you eat, a pleased look in her sleepy eyes. You don't say anything, you just smile, and offer her a piece of butterbrot. "You should have some."

"Thank you, but no," she demurrs. "I won't be able to go back to bed afterward. Finish this up, you shouldn't visit the Palace on an empty stomach." She takes another sip of her cappuchino and leans forward across the island, offering the mug to you; you accept her mug, sip, and offer the mug to her.

"Thanks, Maggie. You didn't have to do this."

Maggie takes the proffered mug, even as she sniffs scornfully, expressing some of her early morning crankiness. "Darling, please. Someone has to take care of you. You obviously can't do it for yourself."

"I took care of myself long before I met you," you counter, as you reach across the table to take her hand, intertwining your fingers with hers. Lord, but she has the most beautiful fingers in the world. You would never let her hand go, ever, not if you didn't have to.

"I beg to differ." She shakes her head smugly. "You're hopeless without me, Johnny."

"I think my mom might want to have words with you on who gets to be the most important woman in my life," you say. Maggie's smug look doesn't shift an inch, but the way her tails shift behind her… yes, definitely in a good mood, ass o'clock crankiness notwithstanding. On a whim you lean forward and bring her hand to your lips. Her face softens into a genuine, unguarded smile, one you feel yourself mirroring. I could never tire of looking at my wife, you think, as you both sit at the table and share that mug of coffee.

Alas, your moment of domestic bliss comes to its inevitable end. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you reluctantly release Maggie's hand to check the message: your IRG pickup is 15 minutes out. You sigh and stand up reluctantly. Maggie rises as well, coming to stand before you. She brushes off stray crumbs real and imagined from your shirt, and smiles at you. "I told you this was a good look on you. You're missing a certain something, though. Your outfit's incomplete." She places an elegant finger on your lips, even as she unbuttons your jacket. The silk garment slides down her shoulders; Maggie displays nary a care that she's displaying all her naked glory to you. She leans in, raising your arms, pressing herself against you as she helps you into your jacket, her scent filling your nostrils. Instinctively you draw your arms around your wife and bury your face in her hair; her hands find their way around your back, and she leans her head on your chest.

"Thank you, for everything," you say simply. Eloquence escapes you. "You didn't have to."

"Nonsense. My man should have the clothes he deserves."

That's not what you meant, and she knows it, but right now, winning the argument, winning anything, doesn't seem important. You tilt your head to meet hers, and kiss her. Nothing earth shattering, nothing passionate. Just tender, intimate warmth. Your lips part, Maggie sighs "oh Johnny," and she kisses you back.

Your phone buzzes insistently; Maggie presses a raised leg against your pocket in a futile attempt to stifle the noise. Your phone continues buzzing, and reluctantly you both break your kiss.

"Just go back to bed, Maggie," you tell her. "I'll take care of the dishes when I get home. We only need to be in the office at ten, so you can still go and nap some more. I'll find my own transport to Admiralty House." You plant a finger to her lips, inordinately happy that she's letting you shush her. "Fleet Admiral's orders."

"Yes Sir, very good Sir," she drawls, rolling her eyes. You sigh and release her; Maggie turns away from you, bends over, and picks up your old shirt from its heap on the floor. She shrugs into that well-worn shirt, the aged fabric flattering her curves: you have to admit that shirt looks a hell of a lot better on her than it ever did on you. She buttons the shirt at her navel, and gives you a look. "You have something on your mind, Darling. Say it."

"I distinctly remember your stated reason for getting rid of my shirts was that they weren't fit to be worn," you say dryly.

"They weren't fit to be worn in public," corrects Maggie smugly, her dainty finger tracing a line from collar to navel, pointedly drawing attention to that old shirt's missing buttons and how the fabric has been worn thin with age. "But then, this is hardly a public space, is it? Carry on, danna-sama. It wouldn't do to keep your escort waiting." She smirks at you and turns away, returning to the bedroom, an extra sway in her walk.

"Bye Maggie. See you at work."

"Bye Johnny," she calls, her royal blue eyes looking at you over her shoulder. "Please don't embarrass yourself in front of Her Majesty."

"You know me, Maggie."

"I know you, that's why I have to warn you."

You roll your eyes at Maggie, and turn away to head out. You pause in the doorway, sniff at your jacket, and frown. You can smell Maggie's perfume, and hidden under that scent, lingering in your senses, you can smell her scent. You choose not to be concerned. It's fine, you decide. If nobody has noticed your adjutant's scent on you, after all this time, they're not going to notice it today. Your careers aren't at risk.

You inhale deeply, reinforcing your memory of her scent, and settle in to wait for your IRG escort, your emotions and thoughts churning as the caffeine works its way through your system.

I want us to be happy.

I want to hold her hand till the end of days.

I love her so much.

 

[Whiskey Golf]

[13F/TF-SOYEON/COM/NAV/SNSR/]
[0700: LOG ROLLOVER 01 JUN - JINKO-SEI TIME]

[0815: COM/13F/CA CHAO PHRAYA/A] Tongod adjust vector CRP 022/174. Hold outside [FC2-PPV-880652].

[0816: COM/13F/CL TONGOD] Tongod complying.

[0822: COM/13F/CL TONGOD] Holding position.

[0835: COM/13F/CL BELURAN/A] Tongod Actual, this is Beluran Actual. My board is clear. Yours?

[0835: COM/13F/CL TONGOD/A] Beluran Actual, Tongod Actual, my board is also clear. As it's been for the last six days. I rather we went along to capture the pirate base.

[0836: COM/13F/CA CHAO PHRAYA/A] Tongod Actual, Beluran Actual, this is Chao Phraya Actual. Clear this net and stop grumbling. The Rear Admiral ordered us to guard this system, and by the Divine Founder's will we will guard this system, and we will do so cheerfully and enthusiastically, in the finest traditions of the Imperial Navy.

[0836: COM/13F/CL TONGOD/A] Acknowledged. Tongod Actual out.

[0837: COM/13F/CL BELURAN/A] Acknowledged. Beluran Actual out.

[0941: SNSR/JMP] JUMP SIGNATURE: CLASS 4/2

[0941: SNSR/JMP] JUMP SIGNATURE: CLASS 6/1

[0941: SNSR/JMP] JUMP SIGNATURE: CLASS 8/1

[0941: COM/13F/CA CHAO PHRAYA/A] Incoming jump signature. Not civilian. Looks like 2 destroyers and 2 cruisers.

[0942: COM/13F/CA CHAO PHRAYA/A] No planned fleet movements on record. Those are 4th Fleet ships. All vessels assume defensive positions.

[0942: COM/13F/CL BELURAN] Acknowledged.

[0942: COM/13F/CA BENGAWAN SOLO] Acknowledged.

[0943: COM/13F/CL TONGOD] Acknowledged.

[0944: SNSR/JMP] JUMP TRANSLATION COMPLETE: CLASS 4/2

[0944: SNSR/JMP] JUMP TRANSLATION COMPLETE: CLASS 6/1

[0945: SNSR/JMP] JUMP TRANSLATION COMPLETE: CLASS 8/1

[0945: SNSR/COM] UNKNOWN-1 TO 4 IFF AUTHENTICATED: 4TH FLEET: (CL ANGELWING) (CA AVALANCHE) (DD BRUTUS) (DD SPARTA). ALERT: (CL ANGELWING) (CA AVALANCHE) (DD BRUTUS) (DD SPARTA) DRIVE SIGNATURES DO NOT MATCH RECORDED CONFIGURATION.

[0945: COM] ENCRYPTION HANDSHAKE RECEIVED FROM (CA AVALANCHE). INTERFLEET CHANNEL AVAILABLE.

[0946: COM/13F/CL BELURAN] Beluran in position.

[0948: COM/13F/CL TONGOD] Tongod ready.

[0949: COM/13F/CA BENGAWAN SOLO] Standing by. What's our ROE?

[0950: COM/13F/CA CHAO PHRAYA/A] Standard ROE applies. Do not fire unless fired upon. The Princess wouldn't be happy if we shot up other Navy ships.

[0950: COM-IF/04F/CL ANGELWING/A] Attention 13th Fleet vessels. This is Captain Cromwell of the cruiser Angelwing, 4th fleet. You have entered our area of operations with a significant force without informing Comberth Harbor in advance. What is your purpose here?

[0951: COM-IF/13F/CA CHAO PHRAYA/A] This is Captain Chimtaum of cruiser Chao Phraya, 13th Fleet. We are on a long distance navigation training and showing the flag cruise, making a temporary stop in this system for R&R.

[0951: COM-IF/04F/CL ANGELWING/A] Understood. We will remain on standby in system to act as local liaison and security. We've had pirate problems recently and the local security contractor has missed a check-in cycle.

[0952: SNSR/COM] ENCRYPTED COM BURST INTERCEPTED. DECRYPTION FAILED. SOURCE: (CL ANGELWING)

[0952: SNSR/COM] ENCRYPTED COM BURST INTERCEPTED. DECRYPTION FAILED. SOURCE: (FC2-PPV-880652)

[0956: SNSR/COM] ENCRYPTED COM BURST INTERCEPTED. DECRYPTION FAILED. SOURCE: (CL ANGELWING)

[0957: COM/13F/CA BENGAWAN SOLO/A] Bengawan Solo Actual to Chao Phraya Actual. How sure are we that those encrypted comms aren't about to bite us in the ass?

[0959: SNSR/COM] ENCRYPTED SUPERLUMINAL COM BURST INTERCEPTED. DECRYPTION FAILED. SOURCE: (CL ANGELWING)

[0959: COM/13F/CA CHAO PHRAYA/A] Mind your language and decorum, Captain Loke.

[1000: COM/13F/CA BENGAWAN SOLO/A] Captain Chimtaum, I believe you have more pressing considerations than my decorum. What are you going to say to 4th Fleet?

[1002: COM/13F/CA CHAO PHRAYA/A] That is none of your concern, Captain. Clear this channel.

[1003: COM/13F/CA BENGAWAN SOLO/A] I want this on the record, Captain Chimtaum: I advised you that your cover story idea was ill-advised and should not have been pursued. You choose to proceed. This is on you. Bengawan Solo Actual, out.

[1005: COM/13F/CA CHAO PHRAYA/A] All units, weapons tight. Be ready for anything. ROE remains in effect.

[1013: COM-IF/04F/CL ANGELWING/A] 13th Fleet vessels please hold position and standby.

[1013: SNSR/JMP] JUMP SIGNATURE: CLASS 10/1

[1017: SNSR/JMP] JUMP TRANSLATION COMPLETE: CLASS 10/1

[1019: SNSR/COM] UNKNOWN-1 IFF AUTHENTICATED: 4TH FLEET: (BC HYPERION) ALERT: DRIVE SIGNATURE AND SENSOR PROFILE DO NOT MATCH RECORDED CONFIGURATION.

[1019: COM/13F/CL TONGOD/A] Oh shit, Cronus-class.

[1019: COM/13F/CL BELURAN/A] This could go bad very quickly.

[1020: COM/13F/CA BENGAWAN SOLO/A] Chao Phraya Actual, this is Bengawan Solo Actual. I bloody well told you so.

[1019: COM/13F/CL TONGOD/A] That battlecruiser's one of 4th Fleet's ace ships. Whatever's happening, it's above our paygrades.

[1019: COM/13F/CL BELURAN/A] Agreed, Tongod Actual. Chao Phraya Actual, this is Beluran Actual, suggest we disengage immediately and inform the Rear Admiral.

[1020: COM/13F/CA CHAO PHRAYA/A] Commander Dompok, Commander Sukam, control yourselves, we are operating under the orders of Her Highness Princess Yui and fear nothing, I will- wait one, incoming.

[1021: COM-IF/04F/BC HYPERION/A] Attention 13th Fleet vessels. This is Commodore Muryoutou of the 4th Fleet. You have conducted hostile actions against an authorised 4th Fleet security contractor, within 4th Fleet's Area of Operations. Stand down and power down your engines. Your violation has been logged and your vessels are now hereby detained until I speak to your commanding officer. Attempt to jump and your violation will immediately be reported to HighCom.

[1022: COM-IF/13F/CA CHAO PHRAYA/A] This is Captain Chimtaum of the 13th Fleet. Acknowledged, our ships will hold position until our commanding officer arrives.

[1031: SNSR/COM] ENCRYPTED SUPERLUMINAL COM BURST INTERCEPTED. DECRYPTION FAILED. SOURCE: (BC HYPERION)

 

[Whiskey Golf]

[13F/TF-SOYEON/COM/NAV/SNSR/]
[1900: LOG ROLLOVER 04 JUN - JINKO-SEI TIME]

[2038: NAV/JMP] JUMP TRANSLATION COMPLETE. SYSTEMS NOMINAL.

[2038: SNSR/COM] BATCH IFF AUTHENTICATED: 13TH FLEET: TF-SOYEON[A].

[2039: SNSR] UNIDENTIFIED VESSELS DETECTED: CLASS 4/2, CLASS 6/1, CLASS 8/1, CLASS 10/1

[2039: SNSR/COM] ENCRYPTED SUPERLUMINAL COM BURST INTERCEPTED. DECRYPTION FAILED. SOURCE: (BC UNKNOWN)

[2039: SNSR/COM] BATCH IFF AUTHENTICATED: 4TH FLEET: TF-THALES/M: (BC HYPERION) (CA AVALANCHE) (CL ANGELWING) (DD BRUTUS) (DD SPARTA). ALERT: (BC HYPERION) (CA AVALANCHE) (CL ANGELWING) (DD BRUTUS) (DD SPARTA) DRIVE SIGNATURES DO NOT MATCH RECORDED CONFIGURATION.

[2039: COM] ENCRYPTION HANDSHAKE RECEIVED FROM (BC HYPERION). INTERFLEET CHANNEL AVAILABLE.

[2039: COM-IF/04F/BC HYPERION/A] Attention 13 Fleet vessels, this is Commodore Muryoutou, 4th Fleet. You have entered the AO of the 4th Fleet with a significant force and without notifying Comberth Harbor. You have also carried out hostile actions against an authorized PMC. Please provide me with an explanation.

[2041: COM/13F/BC KONGO/A] 4th Fleet, this is Task Force Soyeon of 13th Fleet, Rear Admiral Vickers commanding. We were on a training cruise and saw an opportunity to assist the local PMC provider with a piracy suppression mission, which we have just concluded. How may I assist you further?

[2042: COM-IF/04F/BC HYPERION/A] Firstly, how did your training cruise mission creep into a pirate cleanup? Does the 13th Fleet depart for navigational training cruises with a full combat load?

[2043: COM/13F/BC KONGO/A] We were doing a long range navigation training exercise, and since we were in the neighbourhood, I decided to audit the local PMC provider, as is allowed for under the Mercenaries Armaments Control Act. 13th Fleet's purpose is to conduct presence patrols, show the flag missions, and to serve as a mobile reserve for the Navy as a whole, so it's our fleet TTP to travel with half combat load at all times.

[2044: COM-IF/04F/BC HYPERION/A] Wait. Are you telling me that the 13th Fleet's Standard MO is to just randomly enter other fleets' AO without warning to audit their PMC auxiliaries? Because you jammed our PMC on arrival. If you wanted to conduct an audit of our PMC you should have escalated this to us first.

[2045: COM/13F/BC KONGO/A] Respectfully, Commodore, I fail to see the problem with our fleet movements. This is not 4th Fleet's space, this is Her Majesty's space. We are all serving officers of the Imperial Navy, operating in Imperial space. We have never needed to file flight plans and seek approval before entering Imperial space. Your request is not standard practice.

[2047: COM-IF/04F/BC HYPERION/A] [audible exhalation] Normally, nobody bats an eye when small cruiser groups move between House territory. You just deployed a warfleet without our knowledge. Do you understand how this will look on the news?

[2049: COM/13F/BC KONGO/A] No harm, no foul, Commodore. It's just a training exercise for 13th Fleet, practicing for scaling up to a full fleetwide movement. Is there anything else I might help clarify for you?

[2050: COM-IF/04F/BC HYPERION/A] No harm no foul? Do you understand how your fleet's behavior affects the Navy's image when the right arm doesn't know what the left is doing? Tch. Putting that aside, why did you jam our PMC provider on approach? That is also not standard practice for an audit.

[2051: COM/13F/BC KONGO/A] It was for training purposes. I wanted my subordinates to put in some EW practice, since we were already approaching the depot.

[2051: COM-IF/04F/BC HYPERION/A] Please allow me to understand. You blinded friendly forces and disrupted local lines of communication, putting local shipping at risk of pirate attacks, just for EW training, without informing them beforehand and so making them think you were a potentially hostile force and risking a friendly fire incident. Is that an accurate summation?

[2053: COM/13F/BC KONGO/A] Our jamming was a lot more localised than you're implying. That said, you're quite right, that was a valid issue that you raised. There may have been an error of judgement that was made. We will take note of this for further improvement.

[2052: COM-IF/04F/BC HYPERION/A] Alright then, who approved this sortie?

[2053: COM/13F/BC KONGO/A] Commodore, I am a Rear Admiral, commanding a component task force of the 13th Fleet. I am well within my rights and authority to approve this sortie.

[2058: COM-IF/04F/BC HYPERION/A] Very well. I shall inform Fleet Command. My task force will remain in-system to act as local liaison until your fleet leaves.

[2058: COM/13F/BC KONGO/A] Of course, Commodore. Would you like to meet me over at the VSS base to go over the intel and results from the pirate base?

[2059: COM-IF/04F/BC HYPERION/A] Very well, Rear Admiral. I shall meet you there momentarily. Thales Actual, out.

[2100: SNSR/COM] ENCRYPTED SUPERLUMINAL COM BURST INTERCEPTED. DECRYPTION FAILED. SOURCE: (BC HYPERION)

 

[Whiskey Golf]

06 June
Imperial Navy 4th Fleet HQ
Fleet Activities Comberth Harbor

"This makes no sense." Kanda sips his tea as he thumbs through Himeno's report. "They brought a battlefleet to audit our local security PMC, then jam them on arrival. It's like they were trying to provoke an incident."

"Then it is most fortunate that your hired killers didn't shoot at them, then." Hildegarde leans back into her chair, scrolling through her copy with her index finger. "They complied with Muryoutou's demands. I'm willing to bet that Princess Akasha has gone temporarily insane and this entire incident is indicative of absolutely nothing."

"A training cruise into a pirate cleanup, with enough ships to break a garrison port. No matter how you look at it, something's up." Kanda glares at his datapad as he slides his left index finger across the screen. "Here. 'Fleet commander evasive.' Factoring in that Vice Admiral Akasha isn't with the fleet… sounds like she's doing something. But we don't know what it is, exactly."

Hildegarde's finger stops moving. "Your point?"

"I'm going to have to go to Jinko-sei to get this cleared up. Prepare a recon destroyer." Kanda sets the pad down and leans forward into his desk, facing Hildegarde's chair.

Hildegarde spins her chair around to face Kanda, her expression stony. "Men who get away with taking too many risks start to believe they're invincible. I'll bet you do too. If she is planning something, you might meet an unfortunate accident en route."

"Then I expect you and Vice Admiral Anderson to enact the appropriate response to that contingency. I'll check in regularly. You'll know if anything happens to me. I'll brief him later." Kanda begins pouring himself more tea from the pot on his table. "I'll take a few people with me as insurance and keep a low profile."

"I see. Stardock reports the Beowulf as having completed her refit and test trials. I'll have her made ready." Hildegarde spins her chair away slightly as she speaks. "I still object to this reckless course of action, however."

"So, are we going to discuss the pirates?" Mulia interjects, preempting Kanda's response. "The 13th Fleet did most of the heavy lifting for us, but we still need to root out any holdouts that might remain. Not to mention find out how they got that cruiser."

"Firstly, objection noted. Secondly, I'll leave the pirates to you. I need to arrange the journey to Jinko-sei." Kanda finally leans back and begins sipping his tea again. "My recommendation is to dispatch a light cruiser group with auxiliaries to investigate and then proceed from there. Try to capture some and squeeze intel out of them if possible, and contact the 13th Fleet to see if we can get them to transfer their prisoners to us for interrogation. Is that all? If so, the two of you can return to your duties."

Hildegarde stands up, pushing her chair back slightly as she does so. Her long hair sways as she turns to face Kanda again. "One last thing before you go to Jinko-sei. AVALANCHE EXIT. We cannot delay this question any longer."

Kanda sighs, placing his teacup back on his desk. "The most probable scenario, then. If his cause is just and the rot has truly set in..." Kanda's right foot begins tapping the floor unconsciously as he exhales. "Then we will stand with him. Arkbird. Process context and update preliminary predictive model. Is this enough for you, Hildegarde? We'll update the planner models when I return."

"Yes sir." The VI chimes in, its holographic avatar appearing in a gentle shower of light.

"Enough for any contingencies." Hildegarde adjusts her uniform as she presses her thumb against the door scanner. "But if your stunt goes badly, know that the call will devolve to Anderson."

With that last parting shot, she is gone, leaving Kanda and Mulia poring over their datapads in the room's cold silence.