"So right now, there are two battleships on the ground at your location. Do you have any openings?
Dean emitted at a rate that included obvious anger toward the old man on the monitor.
"We are reporting with permission. What kind of crime is that?"
A man who is persevering, but whose trembling lips are not hidden. Dean snorted at the big guy in this media world, "Hmm," throwing up cold.
"You don't know the crime of commotion. Have you checked the station's observation cameras? Everywhere is a fuss. I can't even imagine how much wealth has been lost."
On the Alpha side, the Army First Mobile Fleet was a flagship, the aircraft carrier Risesia's bridge was quiet, but the station's internal cameras, enlarged on several monitors, showed a flock of people from right to left, silent but as if they were hearing a murmur.
The management group of the station, as well as its monitors, which are only allowed to be viewed by some media and military officials, especially His Majesty the Emperor, usually showed a degree of landscape to which calm people would come and go in a very politically colored and unanswered station.
"Of course I know. However, we have been given permission to publish it. He said he was already prepped to contain the confusion."
"I see. But I can't give you permission to do that other than us and the government. Which unit of the army gave you permission to do so? Or is it the government's discretion?
"I'm sorry, but the informant..."
"I don't know if I'm saying that. There are 220 minutes left. The dispatched troops are going to kill you all."
Put it on the other person's words and say it out loud. The timer display to be deployed on the BISHOP is decreasing the moment and its number. It was the arithmetic where permission to enter was given along with 0.
"But... then our... existential..."
"Existential, right? Then you should die proud. Along with the resentment of a large number of employees who would be caught up in it and die. Enough. I'll hit the others."
"Oh............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................... I get it! I'll talk to you!
"Just do it. I want you to realize that there is no such thing as choice. [M] I'm not free either."
Dean had no intention of negotiating with the other party in the first place. All he wants is to say what is required and listen to what is necessary. That was all. Negotiations cannot be concluded without being on the same mound.
"It was the military who talked to me. You're right, we have a record."
The media king takes one chip out of his nostalgia and lets him get closer to the camera. When the general zoomed in and confirmed it, he looked surprised for a moment, but was grinning the next moment.
"Hehe, I see. It definitely is, isn't it? That's my immediate unit."
Letters dug in fine 3D printing on the surface of a small chip were marked "Deed 1: Naval Intelligence Department". The name of a self-aware unit that has long been enrolled and is now in a position of jurisdiction.
"Huh? Oh, no. This is-"
"That would be the first deed. You need my direct permission to issue it, but I don't remember putting that out. You tried checking it out?
"Of course! I can't let this dangerous stuff out if I'm not too sure!
"Well, I guess so. But what does that mean? What's the name of the provider?
"Please wait... the deed will have Colonel Nami Arden as an intermediary"
"............ Hmm. I see, I get it. The punishment for you is a temporary suspension. Tell them everything, because I will turn to my men. That's it."
When Dean so unilaterally ended the communication, he put on his cheek cane and thought.
There is no one in the Intelligence Department named Nami Arden. I was absolutely sure of that.
Dean couldn't have been at least one soldier on the end of the intelligence team, but at least he could have named everyone more than a corporal. But it was about thousands of people, and there was no way I could go wrong with that extent.
"My lord, have they finally set you up?"
One of the staff officers, who took an upright immobility stance beside Dean, emitted in the same stance. When the general looked at the staff, he thought a little and shook his head.
"It may be natural to think so in the circumstances, but I wonder. Wouldn't that be too naive? I haven't heard anything about Marshal Cornelius being busy."
Assuming he is a marshal of the army and head of a great faction. I can't be an idiot. From Dean's point of view, this big false alarm was too simple and seemed like a crude one.
"If I were you, I'd set you up for a bigger military action. During large-scale exercises, or when punishing anywhere. It also adds credibility because it is moving a serial unit. Or maybe it's not a bad time for the Marshal to look at His Majesty. Even if you are innocent, you will be postponed. If that's the proof left, some idiots should be on it."
When I bump, I snap like a grumpy Dean. Often he did so, he stood up and said with his hands as he cut the sky to the side.
"Act cautiously on this matter. I won't tolerate frivolous imitation. Keep the bloody people quiet. I'll take care of it. Don't make any moves until you give your life. If you are asked to act, silence, or postpone sufficiently. You don't have to do what the enemy wants you to do. Don't give me a name!
Raise your voice so that everyone on the bridge can hear you. I immediately said, "Yes, my lord!" His voice returned, and Dean replied by nodding at it.
"Don't get busy. But where I want to be."
As Dean lowered his back, he had a provocative grin.
"Depth 55............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................. Yellow alert to EEG of subject 4B. Moving on to step 004 second. Depth 58……… 59……………"
Laboratory illuminated with dim, blue cold lighting. The faces of the men and women sitting in front of the monitor are illuminated and look floating with me. There were many small and large devices and computers in the room, which were narrow and unmatched by windows, and that was enough to make me breathless.
The room was too cold, everyone wore an insulated suit and the temperature was managed to be maintained by the electric heat caused by the thermobooster in the suit. The head is covered with a thin acrylic resin helmet and the voices are all brought about by speakers and microphones.
"How much longer till this guy gets better?"
A man in a suit, just like the researchers, said looking at the cylindrical device in the room. The apparatus is fitted with a peek window from which the arm or foot that appears to be part of the human body peeks. The inside of the device seemed full of liquid, but the man didn't really know what it was.
"I was in a hurry for six months, something like that. Because the Marshal is to blame."
The man who made the surface of the suit display a mark indicating the head of the research team, answered. Similarly, a man with a mark indicating Major General of the Imperial Navy shook his head, "No."
"It's late in six months. It could be too late. If that happens, we're doomed."
"Yep. So we're shortening it by 25% more than planned."
"It's not like I want to hear an excuse. Marshal Cornelius is in a hurry. Tell him to shorten it by about 20%."
"Asking for impotence…… So it's also about the success or failure of the experiment, right?
"I know a hundred things about that. Use your budget and resources as much as you like. Do something in time."
"Yep. I'll make an effort, though. What about adding a subject?
"I've just been brought in, twelve. I'm letting you sleep, so use whatever you want. On the paperwork, everyone's already dead."
"It is. Oh, dear."
When the chief researcher grinned under his helmet, he nodded with satisfaction, yeah. Neo Wan Hoshi, a general belonging to the Cornelius sect, saw how it was and gave a small groan of disgust so that no one would hear it.
"Fuck you, you bastards."
Turn off the microphone and skip the curse. The researcher in front of you is right beside you, but he won't get his voice anyway. The insulation of the helmet was the same as that of the space suit, and the room was quasi-vacuum.
"Oh, yeah, yeah. General Neo. As for the other plan, it's going pretty well. Would you look at that?
The chief asks as he looks back. The general wanted to say no on the inside, but because it was his job, he did not accept it.
"Come here, then"
The chief urged me to leave the room. Long-lasting corridors were tedious if you were to walk, but no one actually did, using fast moving lanes attached to walls.
As the general waited a while until the chief finished typing the destination by hand, he eventually grabbed the moving lane firmly with both hands and wrapped his belt around his body. It is not originally intended for use under gravity, so I will really taste a little thrill.
"We're going to dock eight. Watch the curve to the left."
Answer only "I know" the voice conveyed through the speaker. Eventually the hallway draws a steep curve, and the body floats to the side according to the laws of inertia. Nearly 200 km/h seems to be out there.
"Come on, I got it. You'll be surprised to see it."
withstand the unpleasant acceleration caused by the deceleration, eventually releasing his hand from the stationary lane. Neo thought I'd even say one of his complaints about the safety aspect, but I stopped. I can't afford to do that right now.
As they climbed the stairs leading to the dock's control room, they jumped into a truly spacious space. A large dock for spacecraft overlooks it, which, of course, is inhibited by glass bulkheads, but it makes me feel really blamey compared to earlier laboratories.
"Is this…… going so far"
There is an unexpected breath of admiration in the figure of a giant ship that looks beyond the glass.
The ship itself is a skeleton and is just a good block-moduled ship. The problem was with the propulsion system equipment attached to it, namely the engine and thrusters.
Thrusters are not conical, which is mostly the case on any ship, but in the form of a doughnut with swelling. It's huge against the hull, but it only has six on it, and I can see it without worries because I'm unfamiliar with it. There are dozens to hundreds of them on a regular ship.
"Engine output tends to be stable. You can consider it a success, at least at the laboratory level. You'll be able to put it into practice in no time."
The research chief speaks out in a confident voice. "I see," the general nodded, looking at an engine shaped like an egg visible between the frames.
"Drive engines for normal navigation, or? Then at least in this field..."
The general said so in advance.
"Finally caught up with 4500 years old technology, you mean"
Workers like moving bean grains and the various work installations they remotely operate. Moving his gaze, the general saw it like an old stink, thin dirt, wreck, placed next to a brand new framed ship.
That was too inadequate for a ship and too much was missing. All the outer shells and some kind of parts have been removed and placed around them. It was divided into more clutter, not modular ships, and it was complicated inside.
There were no residential or central control blocks that should have existed, and that was just the propulsion block. There seemed to have been some armaments, but they have not been found.
Records say it once existed, but it was lost during the attempted seizure. A researcher who did not synchronize with the insurgency tried to conserve the ship, at least in half. But then the news is, unknown.
Alster Wayne Institution. That was the name of the organization that was studying the ship at the time, and it was also the name of the organization that is still being secretly handed down.