“How is it? Tea brewed from leaves grown in this region. I sometimes have my aide procure it for me. I’m nearly addicted.”
A slightly plump white man tossed off the joke.
Slurp.
“Mmm. Ah, I can see how one could get addicted. It’s distinct from Earth tea; there’s something unique about it, and somehow it settles the mood. It’s calming.”
“Aha. As expected of a Japanese man. You know your tea.”
“Not only the Japanese; any East Asian knows the taste and fragrance of tea almost instinctively.”
The East Asian man, called Japanese, smiled and corrected him.
“I’ve put my foot in it. Forgive me. Hahaha.”
The white man laughed heartily, rose from his seat, and looked out the window.
“Just yesterday the moons shone so beautifully. What’s with this weather…? Colonel Yorimoto, how many days has it been since you were assigned to this planet?”
“Yes. This is my second month. I still get the place names mixed up. And I was impressed at first, too. Two moons! It felt different from the training videos we saw back on Earth, General.”
“Right. Which is why even at night it’s rather bright from the moonlight. It’s like early evening. Once you get used to it like I am, this kind of deep darkness actually feels stranger.”
The general, Brigadier General Polian Valenov, studied the view outside. Even in this deep dark, something was busy moving. It was roughly 800 meters from the apron to the main building, yet he could clearly see the moving lights on the apron. The darkness made them all the more visible.
“It’s truly clean here. You can drink the spring water in the mountains behind the base or the brook at the village entrance as-is. Even the rainwater.”
“That’s rare to see given Earth’s environment.”
“Of course. I hear the Federation is transporting water from here back to Earth. Earth’s water is now Grade-3 industrial, and this place’s water is drinking water…”
“There are rumors a resettlement policy will be announced soon.”
“Is that so? Well, it’s been almost ten years. If not for the war, it would already have been realized. Once the war ends… I want to bring my family and live here.”
“Then your family, General?”
“My family is on Earth. They say military families are permitted to relocate, but war is dangerous, isn’t it? Anyway, your ship. It’s splendid. Was the name ‘Pegasus’?”
“Yes. Pegasus is correct.”
“Is it a new class just launched? Its sudden appearance surprised us; at first we thought it was an enemy and were quite on edge. Command did send notice, but we didn’t know our side had a warship that large.”
“It was an operational security measure against the enemy. We’re still in training, so until we’re deployed for active service, we have to keep out of sight.”
“SBGN (Nuclear Guided-missile Space Battleship)-111 Pegasus, eh. By the way, Captain—”
“Yes, General?”
“You can see it even from here, can’t you? It’s taking up a third of the apron. Before you leave, we should charge you a hefty parking fee.”
“That would be a problem, sir. We’re broke too.”
They looked at each other and laughed.
“XO, kill confirmed.”
Sergeant Robert McKenzie, the Anti-Surface Warfare department’s leading anti-ship specialist, made his report.
“Good. End virtual training.”
At the young executive officer’s direction, Operations Officer Captain Jeong Hyun-woo relayed fresh orders.
“Current time 23:05. Anti-ship training complete. Strike Warfare, Anti-Surface, Anti-Air, and Anti-Electronic Warfare departments revert to peacetime duty posture. Tactical & Information will prepare the training evaluation.”
“Strike Warfare (SW) training complete. Reverting to peacetime posture.”
“Anti-Surface Warfare (ASUW) training complete. Reverting to peacetime posture.”
“Anti-Air Warfare (AAW) training complete. Reverting to peacetime posture.”
“…”
“?”
“…”
“Electronic Warfare.”
Captain Jeong’s gaze swung to the seats of the Anti-Electronic Warfare (AEW) department.
“An!ti! Elec!tron!ic! War!fare!”
Only when Captain Jeong shouted did the startled reply come back, as if just hearing him.
“Second Lieutenant Amy Hojo! Training complete! … No issues…”
With wide, glistening eyes that looked ready to cry, the brand-new second lieutenant left Captain Jeong momentarily at a loss for words.
“That’s fine, Lieutenant. Senior Jeong, that’s enough. Lieutenant Hojo.”
“Yessir!”
“You did well. Get some rest. Next time, be mindful.”
“Yessir! Thank you for your work.”
“XO.” (Executive Officer)
Captain Jeong’s gaze shifted to the executive officer.
“Haha, what are you looking at like that? I’m not interested in Senior Jeong…”
Dodging with a sly joke and averting his eyes, the XO drew a glare from Captain Jeong.
“Hey, Choi Young. You’re the XO; cut that out. When a mistake happens, you have to chew someone out too.”
A captain-grade department head talking down to a major-grade XO would be unimaginable insubordination in peacetime, but among them (as academy senior and junior) it was taken for granted. Of course, only in unofficial settings. (Among their jokes, it was said, “In the unofficial code, a junior who gets promoted faster than his senior is also guilty of insubordination.”)
“XO. Here’s the Tactical & Information (TAI) department’s training evaluation. I’ll forward it to your console.”
Three 20-inch LCD monitors sat side by side at Young’s XO station. The central monitor filled with the training replay.
Amid the complex terrain filling the screen, a green circular symbol for their ship skimmed perilously close to natural features, then began to climb. An enemy ship, lying in ambush, was marked by a red square and sprang a surprise attack. The enemy used missiles; they countered with anti-air missiles and blocked the strike. The enemy ship then began evasive maneuvers using the terrain; to stop it, they opened up with the twin 80 mm rapid-fire turrets and successfully hit the enemy’s upper works. In particular, the hit on the enemy bridge delivered a severe shock and soon led to a “combat incapable” ruling.
“XO, the CPU has raised a question about why the main guns weren’t used.”
At the question from Tactical & Information Officer Captain Robin Williams, every officer on the bridge turned to Young. They had all been wondering the same thing.
“TIO, what do you think?”
So questioned in return, Captain Williams thought briefly, then answered.
“I can only imagine a malfunction, or in the worst case the captain’s absence, to explain not using the main guns—the most decisive weapon.”
The ship currently tasked for training SBGN-111 Pegasus required two separate confirmations before entering combat.
First: the XO’s yellow plastic card. Inserted at the XO’s station, it verifies the officer’s service number, the activation password, and finally a fingerprint. That ties the ship’s internal power. However, this bypasses activation of the main and secondary batteries, the CIWS (Close-In Weapon System), the vertical and horizontal missile launchers, the missiles themselves, and the engines required for movement and evasion. In plain language, you can only turn on the lights. Because the card remains inserted at all times, it has never been removed since first commissioning. (In practice, you only pull this card when abandoning ship due to severe battle damage.)
Second: the captain’s red card. Identical in shape and operation, with one difference: it allows control of all weapons used in combat and all power required for movement. This card need not remain inserted at all times; when in port, it’s removed and kept by the captain.
“Yes. Something like that, but I wanted to verify the ship’s defensive strength and its quasi-offensive capability. In a real fight, if the main guns truly fail, we have to consider that scenario.”
“XO, this ship mounts six triple main guns.”
Captain Silvia Sergei, the Strike Officer, pointed it out. It implied there would never be a case where all failed—and also asked what the XO’s true intention was.
“Yes. Three forward, two aft, and one on the keel. Realistically, they won’t all fail, but there are cases where the main guns can’t be used, right?”
What Young meant was the absolute worst case: the captain’s absence—in plain words, KIA (Killed in Action).
If, before inserting the card, the captain’s personal situation makes direct input impossible, the XO, as next in line, may exercise proxy card authority. To do so, the XO, the Operations Officer, and the senior enlisted (called the Boatswain) must all be present and approve unanimously. Thereafter, the input codes, service number, and fingerprint data are switched to the proxy’s, and the ship regains normal navigational capability. However, to guard against a potential mutiny, main-gun use is prohibited in that state. Pegasus’s current loadout consists chiefly of numerous anti-air missiles, twin secondary turrets, and ammunition for the CIWS; the combined combat power of all systems except the main guns only just reaches parity with a modernized warship.
Young’s answer had touched a sensitive nerve. He had, with the polite phrase “in the captain’s absence,” effectively killed a very much alive commanding officer. Wasn’t that insubordination?
“Which is why we conducted the drill as if the captain were truly absent—like now.”
“Even so, if the captain hears about this, he won’t be pleased…”
Second Lieutenant Hojo trailed off, landing a direct hit on everyone’s worry. But Major Choi Young, the person in question, looked entirely unconcerned.
“Don’t worry, Lieutenant. In fact, the drill was at the captain’s instruction. Ah—TIO.”
“Yes, XO.”
“Store the exercise content, results, and issues in the log.”
“Aye, XO.”
Everyone, relieved, began moving back to their stations.
“Senior Jeong, turn in early. We sail at dawn, no time to rest then.”
“Yes, junior.”
Captain Jeong gave a playful salute and stepped off the bridge, and the noise died down.
“Lieutenant Hojo.”
“Yes, XO.”
“Nothing from the patrol ship?”
“No electronic signals or movement of any kind yet.”
“On top of that, the patrol orbit is just lazily circling the same spot.”
This time, Sergeant Li Kuanhui, the leading AAW specialist, answered. Given his duties, he had the patrol ship on his mind.
Under the dark night sky, aboard SPC (Space Patrol Craft)-452 Huwawa, Captain—rather, Lieutenant Colonel—Louis Spacy glanced at the clock.
“Anything to report?”
“Nothing, sir.”
“Then why send us out? It’s this quiet. And it isn’t even our fleet’s patrol window, is it?”
“There was intel that Imperial forces were stirring in the north, so the Air Force sent the early-warning aircraft up that way.”
“Maybe those aliens are provoking us out of boredom. No need to answer every little thing.”
“But that’s left this sky empty. If the enemy were to spring a surprise…”
“Captain.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re fine in every way, but you’re too serious for your own good.”
Serving under this lieutenant colonel, the captain worried he would learn only lethargy and blame. He felt he had no luck with superiors.
“I ought to be commanding a Grade-1 warship like Pegasus by now, not on this piddling patrol craft.”
Lieutenant Colonel Spacy thought of the young officer he’d greeted in the wardroom.
“That rookie was the Pegasus XO, wasn’t he?”
“Sir? Who do you mean?”
“The young East Asian man you were chatting with in the mess.”
“Yes—Choi Young. We were academy classmates. He said he was just promoted to major and assigned as XO.”
“What? Your classmate? Then he’s not even thirty. He’s still a chick. Hmph. Must have a very solid background. A major already, and XO of a Grade-1 ship.”
Holding a key billet on such a powerful ship at that age would pay off later. At the very least, it meant a strong chance at a missile frigate or destroyer command. Spacy, thinking that far, grew envious—believing only the well-connected and lucky rose. The younger captain, reading him clear as day, lamented inwardly that under this man, not only success but even promotion would be hard.
[Captain. AGW (Anti-Ground Warfare) department here.]
“Ah, the captain.”
[Bearing 2-8-3. Noise detected at range 4,300.]
“Radar return or acoustic pattern?”
[Currently masked by the mountain range’s shadow—hard to confirm on radar. The acoustic is faint; pattern identification is difficult.]
“Not our own echo?”
[Negative.]
“Come to bearing 2-8-3. Depression five degrees. Maintain speed. Alter course.”
“Bearing 2-8-3. Depression zero-five. Maintain speed. Altering course!”
The helmsman’s repetition followed at once.
“Enemy recon craft approaching our destroyer Belwhisi, Your Excellency. Range five loikretem (km)!”
“What? We’ve been spotted?”
“Your Excellency, not certain yet. Enemy speed and estimated time to contact?”
“Speed twenty ‘ton’ (equivalent to Earth’s knots). ETA four tyunim (minutes).”
Not much time left to attack. If they were discovered now, all the waiting would be for nothing. The commander made up his mind.
“Sir Renicol!”
“Yes, Your Excellency!”
“Compute the enemy’s speed and course. Order a one-shot kill. Tell the ground forces to commence attack as well.”
“Your Excellency, the ground unit hasn’t closed the encirclement yet.”
“Change the ground plan. Not complete annihilation of the enemy. Focus on fixing the enemy ship in place. The Iron Knights in particular are to do everything possible to prevent the ship from sortieing.”
“Your Excellency, Belwhisi cannot attack the enemy ship at present.”
“What?”
“The mountain slope is masking them; Belwhisi’s radar waves can’t reach.”
What had seemed the optimal ambush site now cut both ways, threatening Belwhisi’s life. At this rate, Belwhisi might be hit without ever getting a shot off.
“Then we’ll lay the solution ourselves. Transmit an attack radar pulse only once. We must succeed in that moment.”
“Yes, Your Excellency.”
“Search waves?”
[No anomalies.]
“Told you—nothing to—”
That was when a powerful alarm shrieked on the bridge.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
“What is it?”
[We’re being targeted. Bearing 2-3-1! Range eight hundred!]
“That’s the opposite side from here! Idiots!”
At that instant, from a cleft in the valley directly beneath Huwawa, a shell came screaming in.
KABOOM!
“Ah! Hit on the keel! Antigravity controller damaged! The hull is pitching!”
On the bridge’s damage board, the struck section and its status lit up; the hit compartment flipped, unerringly, to red.
“Damn it! Hard to port, emergency! Flank power! Fire anti-ship missiles!”
Huwawa swung hard to port. From the horizontal launchers in the bow, four missiles leapt away. They paired off, each pair driving toward its computer-assigned target.
“Enemy missile launch. Two on us, two on Belwhisi—ah! Belwhisi is hit! The enemy ship was too close.”
“Intercepting enemy missiles.”
Several small hatches popped open on the upper deck; jets of flame roared skyward, blossomed at preset points, and formed a curtain of fire. The penned-in anti-ship missiles couldn’t withstand the heat and blew.
“Interception successful. Enemy ship fleeing toward Mistl.”
“No—if even that—”
“Too late. It’s engaging Mistl.”
“Of the four, only one round hit.”
Desperate to live, Lieutenant Colonel Spacy barely heard the reports.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.
“Now what?”
Directly ahead of Huwawa, the beam-cannon ship Mistl rose into view. Its massive hull and imposing presence seemed to shake the surrounding air. The main gun began to traverse, as if hunting.
“Ugh! It’s… a beam!”
One beam from Mistl smashed into the bridge, killing crew and melting the bridge structure with its horrific explosive power. Another beam struck the bow, a mortal blow. Melting the outer hull and punching into the bow missile compartment, the blast set off sympathetic detonations in the remaining missiles. In an instant, the accelerating chain of explosions swallowed the 85-meter patrol craft whole.
“Urrgh.”
The commander was beside himself. Because of a single small recon craft, the fleet’s position and strength had been laid bare.
“Fleet! Full speed ahead. Annihilate the enemy!”
T/N: Uh… that was a lot. Here.
| Name | Role | Rank | Ship | Notes |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| Choi Young | Executive Officer (XO), second-in-command | Major | SBGN-111 Pegasus (Earth side) | Runs drills, de facto bridge lead when captain is “absent.” |
| Jeong Hyun-woo | Operations Officer (Ops) | Captain | Pegasus | Relays orders; manages training state changes. |
| Robin Williams | Tactical & Information Officer (TAI) | Captain | Pegasus | Questions non-use of main guns; compiles evaluation. |
| Silvia Sergei | Strike/Weapons Officer | Captain | Pegasus | Notes six triple main guns; weapons employment. |
| Amy Hojo | Electronic Warfare Officer (AEW) | 2nd Lieutenant | Pegasus | New officer; completes training checks. |
| Li Kuanhui | Anti-Air specialist (AAW lead NCO) | Sergeant | Pegasus | Tracks patrol craft behavior. |
| Robert McKenzie | Anti-Ship specialist (ASuW lead NCO) | Sergeant | Pegasus | Reports “kill confirmed” in exercise. |
| Pegasus Captain | Commanding Officer | (not stated) | Pegasus | Off-screen; authorizes XO-led drill. |
| Polian Valenov | Base commander / senior officer | Brigadier General | Earth Federation base | Discusses environment; hosts Col. Yorimoto. |
| Yorimoto | Visiting line officer | Colonel | Earth Federation | New to planet; converses with Gen. Valenov. |
| Louis Spacy | Patrol craft commander (CO) | Lt. Colonel | SPC-452 Huwawa (Earth) | On night patrol; ship later destroyed. |
| Imperial commander | Fleet commander (noble) | (not stated) | Empire | Orange-haired; directs ambush/ground encirclement. |
| Sir Renicol | Staff officer / executor | (Sir) | Empire | Receives “one-shot kill”/attack orders. |
| Viscount Siniya | Feint-operation lead | (Viscount) | Empire | Draws Earth forces north as diversion. |
Named ships mentioned:
- SBGN-111 Pegasus (Earth; capital ship)
- SPC-452 Huwawa (Earth; patrol craft)
- Belwhisi (Earth; destroyer)
- Mistl (Empire; beam-cannon ship)
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