Chapter 2
Boom!!!
Though outdated, the Razangriff, one of the Earth Empire's prototype ships, boasted an incredibly attractive set of specifications.
Over time, the Federation had made numerous improvements to it.
Its force field was powerful enough to withstand even a carrier's plasma cannon a couple of times over.
And yet something had punched through its force field and damaged the ship.
"Control room, report."
-Control room here. Multiple unidentified signals suddenly appeared behind the ship.
"……The knife-ears?"
-It's a double strike meant to shatter the force field. The only ones who'd attack in such a crude manner are...
"Huh? Those Smegma pirate bastards?"
He was taken aback by the completely unexpected enemy, but only for a moment.
Brigadier General Ramirez reached out to Rubedo.
"Come with me. You haven't had your body modified, so you won't be able to withstand the shock of combat or a jump."
"That's probably true. Before I turned into a girl, I could've handled it even without any modifications... Huh? Without any modifications...?"
…….
Ramirez looked as if he'd heard something he wasn't supposed to.
He gave her a pitying look, as if she were insane.
"We have no idea who you were before you became a girl. Still, that kind of boasting seems a bit... no, a lot far-fetched."
"I wasn't bragging... Ah, shit, what was I again?"
"Sure, sure, you little grunt. Take your time getting your memory back. Now get in."
Ramirez had brought Rubedo to the Gladiators' hibernation room.
Gladiators were combat AIs.
The Federation's standard combat dolls usually slept in hibernation chambers, where the wear and tear on their artificial personalities could heal. In wartime, they were the first to be deployed, engaging in close-quarters combat.
There were twice as many hibernation pods as Gladiators, and the empty ones were mostly used for emergency treatment of Task Force 42 members.
"The pods are designed to meet Federation military standards, but... well, it'll be fine."
"There's so much extra room."
"Well, who's the one who told you to turn into that? A silver-haired, red-eyed little girl—were you trying to trigger the soldiers' Lolita complex? Couldn't you have turned into a gallant Earth warrior? Or is that your thing?"
Rubedo waved her hands in denial.
"If I'd turned into a human weapon on par with an aircraft carrier, I'd have been forcibly enlisted. A frail little girl is perfect for lowering people's guard and easing their suspicions."
Ramirez lifted her as she strained to climb into the pod and tossed her inside.
"Besides, once was enough for that kind of life."
"Oh, did you remember something?"
"……No. What? What am I saying?"
Through the narrowing gap in the pod's lid, she heard Ramirez sigh.
"Is it really worth making an enemy of the Senate for an idiot like that?"
She wanted to say something, but...
Rubedo quietly closed her eyes.
She felt a chill wrap around her body.
…….
…….
…….
Space Pirate Sigma.
It began with the audacious theft of a destroyer amid the chaos of Taygeta being glassed.
More specifically, it began with soldiers and researchers deeply dissatisfied with the times and the system.
Researcher Lambda was incredibly bright. People kept saying that humanity would enter a second golden age of technology thanks to her.
She had memorized the entire star map on the operations table after only glancing over it once.
After leaving the Bureau of Technological Development, she took the destroyer around various war points where small-scale conflicts had taken place, gathering space refugees and damaged machines along the way.
"Boss, no response?"
Uninhabited war points were rich in machinery, while war points short on machinery had people who'd somehow survived by making do with what they had.
Soldier Epsilon took in the war refugees and used the strength he'd gained from military body-modification surgery to put himself above them.
He picked out the adult men and trained them to use weapons, while Lambda helped turn the women, children, and elderly into technicians.
"That's the infamous Task Force 42. They won't just sit back, if only out of pride."
By the time they'd made it halfway around the war points, their numbers had grown too large for them to be called mere space refugees.
One cruiser, unmistakably a cruiser, though it rattled a bit after being repaired from a half-destroyed state.
Three destroyers.
Sixteen Tokens carried aboard the cruiser.
Several powered suits, and even assault pods.
By the time they'd finished making their rounds of all the war points, the refugees had grown numerous enough to come to a consensus and share their views with Epsilon and Lambda.
"Hahaha, really? I can't wait to see what you can do with one outdated cruiser."
They proposed putting lead into the knife-ears who'd offered a ceasefire before invading small planets on the Federation's frontier.
And into the Martian Senate, which knew about it but did nothing.
The refugees chose Epsilon and Lambda as their leaders, and the two respected their wishes.
And so Sigma was born: a multi-species band of space pirates who launched indiscriminate raids against both the Human Federation and the space elves.
"……"
"……?"
"What the hell? There's really no response. Is this right, Boss?"
Of course, even lawless space pirates knew how to assess the risks.
Attacking Task Force 42, which was so close to a jump gate that reinforcements could arrive at any moment...
A special military unit directly under the Human Security Bureau, no less.
A Task Force 42 packed with killing machines, each one exceptional even among Federation soldiers.
Under normal circumstances, that was unthinkable.
The pirates hadn't undergone official military body-modification surgery, after all.
They were back-alley amateurs who'd struggle to take on even a Gladiator, let alone a Federation soldier.
That is, under normal circumstances.
"Something's off."
"If you ask me, the weird thing is your head, Boss."
"Shut up."
"Well, we'd better run like hell."
But this time, the situation was unusual.
John Doe.
An unidentified person had approached Epsilon.
-Traitor Epsilon, you need to head to the First Sindalot Multistar System immediately.
'Calling me that, you're a Federation dog, are you?'
-My identity doesn't matter. What matters is that I have a way to wake Lambda.
'……!'
Epsilon, the former soldier they called Boss, recalled a communication he'd had just an hour earlier.
'What do you want from a pirate like me? What do I have to do?'
-The Razangriff should be there.
'The Razangriff? Isn't that... the ship of those dirty back-alley bastards?'
-Shoot down the Razangriff. No, I don't expect you to shoot it down. Just destroy its jump engine so it can't jump.
Attack Task Force 42's ship and destroy its jump engine.
In exchange, I'd help awaken Lambda from her coma.
'First.'
-Pardon?
'Wake Lambda first.'
-I see...
'You're asking me to attack Task Force 42 before they attack me, and near the Sindalot Multistar System at that. That's as good as telling me to die. If you hadn't put Lambda's life on the line, your offer wouldn't even be worth listening to. I'm a space pirate, not some idiot soldier. Whether you're a government dog or someone else, shouldn't you show some good faith before you expect someone to lift a finger for you?'
-That would be... difficult.
'Then we're done.'
Silence came from the other end of the communication.
'Prepare your last words. I'm going to trace your signal now. You'll pay for trying to talk us into a pointless death with that glib tongue of yours.'
-That's impossible. With your equipment, you won't be able to catch my signal while fighting through the torrential flood of data.
'You must have resources to burn.'
Being able to use such a brute-force method meant the man was certainly a high-ranking Federation official.
Epsilon narrowed down the identity of the person on the other end in his mind.
If he really was a high-ranking Federation official, he'd never have to pay for it.
He could be a Martian senator.
Or a member of the Security Bureau, or some bigwig in the military.
He could even be the president of a Federation autonomous territory.
The range of possibilities was still far too broad to pin down his identity.
And even if Epsilon could figure it out, as a space pirate, he couldn't get anywhere near the man.
Just then...
-Ah, can you hear me? Epsilon?
A completely different voice came through the communication.
-This is why you can't put an idiot in charge. He just went and spilled all the information.
'Heh, interesting. You killed him?'
-Yeah. I can't stand incompetent subordinates. And I'm changing the terms. You don't need to destroy the jump engine. A successful attack will be enough.
…….
This was...
'I'll make sure they're completely wrecked.'
-Good. I'll send you the exact coordinates, so make an emergency jump right away.
It was certainly something he could do.
"One more shot."
"Okay!"
Sigma's destroyer, Corsair 2, turned its guns.
A double-strike force-field breaker.
An anti-force-field kinetic weapon that used its first shot as bait before landing a powerful follow-up strike.
It couldn't compare to a particle accelerator, but even this was an excellent weapon—more than the pirates deserved.
Boom!!!
The cannon fire streaked through space and struck the Razangriff's force field, its trajectory thrown off course, but...
In the instant after the first shot missed and the force field reactivated, the follow-up shot struck the ship.
…….
"Still no response, Boss?"
"Close the distance. Prepare the harpoon."
"Aye, bringing the harpoon up!"
The Matador, Sigma's cruiser carrying Epsilon, slowly closed the distance.
Until the Razangriff was within range of its ship-salvaging harpoon.
"But Boss, I don't mean to question your orders or anything..."
"What?"
"You know you're being a real idiot right now, right? Picking a fight with Task Force 42 near the Sindalot Multistar System. I don't mind, since it's fun, though."
That was true.
Sigma was already taking enough of a risk.
And now, on top of a follow-up attack, they were closing the distance?
John Doe had only asked them to land a valid attack on the Razangriff.
They could retreat now.
"Hahaha, fire the harpoon!"
The harpoon flew fast enough to pierce the ship, but slower than cannon fire—slow enough that the force field wouldn't activate.
It struck the Razangriff's hatch.
The harpoon slowly reeled back in, drawing the Razangriff closer to the Matador.
"An idiot, huh...? If my guess is right, that guy's a snake who'll say one thing and do another. If we do more than he asked, he'll have to keep his promise, right?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about. Is this related to you locking yourself in your room just before the emergency jump? I thought you were jerking off behind our backs."
"……"
Just as Epsilon considered smacking his subordinate upside the head, the Razangriff's hatch opened.