010 Training Arc 10: Cyberwarfare
Continuing from Midnight. R15.
The cybernetic interface of rental ship 10 hacks into the enemy ship's lower-tier cybernetic core.
The scene unfolds on the virtual screen directly in front of me.
It's the kind of visualization you'd expect from a cyber-space interface.
Within the space, data streams appear as flowing lines, data clusters as solid masses, and defensive barriers as geometric constructs.
Rental ship 10’s avatar soars through this environment.
The avatar appears as a silver metallic robot girl—left arm equipped with a drill, laser cannon mounted on the outer right forearm.
A small shield adorns the upper left arm, and a backpack thruster unit rests on her back.
Using thrust from the backpack, she accelerates, and with precise maneuvers from the thrusters on the outer legs, she dodges incoming threats.
"This is what they mean by armed girl,"
The avatar’s movements are synced to my body control.
It’s like the neural interface of rental ship ten is handling automatic control, with my input overriding it as a higher command.
I focus on guiding the R10 avatar toward the enemy’s barrier.
Thrusters fire—R10 avatar closes in.
I raise my right arm, aim the leather at the barrier, and fire.
The enemy barrier resists for a moment—then cracks open with a sharp *ping*, like glass.
Some kind of programmed counterattack probably happened, but visually it just looks like a neat little explosion.
Break through the barrier, follow the line.
Repeat—until, on the other side, a brain-like object, presumably the enemy’s neural core, appears.
Neural combat is a one-sided slaughter. R10 avatar is utterly dominant. If this continues, I’ll break the enemy’s mind without trouble.
That’s when it happened.
A detonation. Countless impacts shake the hull of Rental Ship Ten.
Sound means one of two things: either something exploded directly on our hull, or the enemy vessel connected to us blew up.
Otherwise, sound doesn’t travel in the vacuum of space.
From the shockwave after the blast, it was probably the latter.
“Self-destructed, huh!”
I scramble to order damage reports and perimeter scans from Rental Ship Ten. Hacking’s on hold.
The ship took no real harm—just hull damage and partial sensor failure from colliding with countless rock fragments. Navigation still fine.
Precision scanning is out, and there are gaps in perimeter monitoring, but luckily the radar’s still alive. External cameras still locked onto the enemy vessel.
Looks like the enemy just blew apart the rocks they were hiding behind. (Purge confirmed.)
The rock fragment seemed to have shattered in all directions, smashing through the Stasis Field of Rental Ship 10 and hitting the hull.
I grabbed my head. Remembered the rental agreement—damages to the ship were my responsibility.
Order damage control priority for rental vessel ten.
But this order backfired. The pilot's command took absolute priority. Had to halt everything else to comply.
At that moment, a jolt slammed into my brain.
Looking at the virtual space before me, the R10 avatar was restrained, entangled in thorny vines.
And the enemy’s aggressive barrier—represented by insect-like graphics—was attacking the graphic of my brain.
Yeah, Rental Ship 10 was still directly connected to the enemy vessel via network cable.
The neural link between the rental ship ten and my brain is active.
I’d gone and shut down R10’s avatar—my own damn self—in the neural net, all because of some damn damage control.
That’s the current situation—enemy’s exploiting the opening with a reverse hack.
I ended up facing the biggest crisis of my life over a tiny mistake.
The enemy ship should've had the edge in cybernetic performance, to begin with.
The other one’s around two hundred meters—confirmed after the rocks scattered. Ours is a thirty-meter skiff.
The only hope is that the main brain’s been destroyed—now we’re up against a subordinate brain. But we’re stuck with the R10 avatar, and can’t get neural support.
This had turned into a battle of my brain versus the enemy’s lower-tier neural core.
Can this really win?
"Well, I don’t wanna die either, so… guess we’re just gonna have to do it, huh?"
I don’t have any defense programs or attack programs in my brain.
So I can’t think of any other way than to shove images at the enemy.
First, I send images at the enemy’s aggressive defense barrier, which is hammering my mind.
“Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy”
“Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy”
“Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy”
“Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy” — “Destroy”
“Destroy” “Destroy” “Destroy” “Destroy” “Destroy” “Destroy” “Destroy” “Destroy” “Destroy” “Destroy”
The insect graphic representing the enemy’s offensive barrier crumpled and collapsed. Not bad, actually.
Step in front of the R10 avatar, still restrained.
“Huh? This is my avatar?”
There it was — a girl’s avatar displayed on screen.
Not a girly man. A proper girl. Doesn’t matter. No time to dwell on it. Move on.
“Intimidate” “Destroy” “Intimidate” “Destroy” “Intimidate” “Destroy” “Intimidate” “Destroy” “Intimidate” “Destroy”
“Intimidate” “Destroy” “Intimidate” “Destroy” “Intimidate” “Destroy” “Intimidate” “Destroy” “Intimidate” “Destroy”
“Intimidate” “Destroy” “Intimidate” “Destroy” “Intimidate” “Destroy” “Intimidate” “Destroy” “Intimidate” “Destroy”
“Intimidate” “Destroy” “Intimidate” “Destroy” “Intimidate” “Destroy” “Intimidate” “Destroy” “Intimidate” “Destroy”
“Intimidate” “Destroy” “Intimidate” “Destroy” “Intimidate” “Destroy” “Intimidate” “Destroy” “Intimidate” “Destroy”
Intimidation increased the pace of progress.
Guess you can do anything if you just try.
After moving for a while, I reached the brain object of the enemy sub-cyber I’d encountered earlier.
Better to subjugate than destroy, I imagined.
“Intimidate” “Infiltrate” “Subjugate!” “Intimidate” “Infiltrate” “Subjugate!” “Intimidate” “Infiltrate” “Subjugate!”
“Intimidate” “Infiltrate” “Subjugate!” “Intimidate” “Infiltrate” “Subjugate!” “Intimidate” “Infiltrate” “Subjugate!”
“Intimidate” “Infiltrate” “Subjugate!” “Intimidate” “Infiltrate” “Subjugate!” “Intimidate” “Infiltrate” “Subjugate!”
“Intimidate” “Infiltrate” “Submit!” “Intimidate” “Infiltrate” “Submit!” “Intimidate” “Infiltrate” “Submit!”
“Intimidate” “Infiltrate” “Submit!” “Intimidate” “Infiltrate” “Submit!” “Intimidate” “Infiltrate” “Submit!”
“Intimidate” “Infiltrate” “Submit!” “Intimidate” “Infiltrate” “Submit!” “Intimidate” “Infiltrate” “Submit!”
At that moment, an R10 avatar appeared beside me. The thorn vines restraining the R10 avatar seemed to vanish. A transmission comes through.
‘Admiral Command is available. Activate?’
I don’t hesitate. I imagine activating the Admiral Command—whatever it is, it looks useful.
And I scream the phrase that flashes in my mind.
“Admiral Command. Top-tier order. Nerve Crack, absolute submission!”
At the same instant, a surge of light pierces the enemy’s subordinate brain-objet.
The enemy’s subordinate brain-objet trembles… and submits.
At last, the enemy vessel has been captured.
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