061 Drift Arc 2 Planet Anoi

We were briefly ranked #1 on the Interstellar SF Rankings.

All thanks to your support. Thank you.

Traveling through the sub-space was boring—couldn't even see outside.

We, the Brush Lips members, had gathered at the office (SFO outpost) after exiting our Personal Ships.

Not the time for mock battles, obviously.

Luckily, the internal transfer ports were still functional—allowed us to assemble.

The wristband teleportation function was down.

Then again, Earth’s light-years away in another dimension.

Better not have it working—would’ve been a nightmare if we’d gotten stranded between dimensions. Actually, convenient that it failed.

Fleet-wide comms are back online. Sub-space doesn’t seem to be affecting it.

So it was definitely the station messing with communications. What’s their game, anyway?

We’re seven—me, the Brush Lips crew, President Kamizawa, and Manager Isshii.

We’re gathered in the president’s office.

“Since we don’t know what’s on the other side of the Dimensional Jump Gate, it’s best we stick together.”

“Yeah.” “That’s right.” “Totally.” “Mm.” “True.” “Yes.”

I say it, and everyone nods along.

“Likely the station’s heading to the imperial capital for repairs. We’ll probably be dropped off somewhere along the way.”

“I think so too. Better pack whatever we can carry into the ship’s storage. Big stuff? Just move it to my Personal Ship’s Dimensional Storage Vault. I’ve already moved everything in there.”

President Kamizawa speaks next, then Isshii, her voice tight with worry.

"Supposedly the food supply's secure, but I think it'd be safer to stock up a bit."

"True. Maybe we shouldn't trust the Government entirely. Let's secure some just in case."

Food supplies were requisitioned under the CEO's orders.

If it turns out we were overcautious, well, that's fine too.

Just don't overdo it—too much hoarding could spark panic. That part’s important.

Between all the tasks, time just slipped away.

After wrapping up, we lounged in the office when suddenly, that familiar wrongness hit—dimensional jump disorientation.

Seems we've just exited the Dimensional Jump Gate.

The station’s sealed tight—no outside intel at all.

The storage bay hatch won’t open. We’re stuck relying only on Government updates.

"Prince of the Government speaking."

The ship-wide broadcast started.

We weren’t on board, so the voice came through our wristbands.

"Ah, a virtual screen popped up from the wristband."

I looked at the wristband as the screen rose into view, showing the Prince in white military uniform.

『Arrived at Planet Anoi. All passengers are to transfer to the Anoi Fortress.

Though it's called a fortress, it's actually a station-class vessel of the same design.

The Earthling sector will be established on that Anoi Fortress.

You will all be moving there.

Planet Anoi is an imperial direct-controlled planet, with only a few colonists from the Empire residing on the surface.

Practically speaking, the personnel of the Anoi Fortress are the only residents in this entire star system.』

『We'll connect the Earthling sector on the Anoi Fortress directly to this station, so please begin moving.

The relocation period is scheduled for one week.』

The station won’t be moving until the relocation is complete, so please rest easy.

We’ll be grouping housing and storage by fleet units for convenience—please let us know if you have any requests.

I’ve transferred the wristband data to the Anoi Fortress’s mainframe, so all applications and functions via wristband should now be operational.

Unfortunately, transfer isn’t available, but all relevant information has been uploaded—feel free to browse.

‘The Earthlings will be considered refugees, in the strict sense of the term. The Empire won’t stint on aid.

After the move is done, the station and its administrative personnel will be relocated to the imperial homeworld for repairs.

We’ll return. When we do, we’ll retake Earth—together.’

The Prince clenched his fist tight. The broadcast ended.

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We secured housing and a hangar with the Brush Lips Fleet and Office.

We got a decent-sized plot from the Kanzawa Promotion Anoi Branch and our residence.

If we get an address at Anoi Fortress, the space black cat will deliver the rest of the cargo.

I didn’t expect to find a space-black cat here… of all places.

What really blew my mind was that the maintenance worker was a cat-eared alien.

The Anoi Fortress seems to have a high concentration of kemonomimi.

By the way, I tried asking Cosmos Jungle too—got it delivered the same day.

...or maybe just space pizza. Went too far. Didn’t come.

The move had gone smoothly, and now it was time to transfer each of our Personal Ships to Anoi Fortress.

I headed to the station’s Personal Ship hangar, slipped into the Personal Ship’s CIC, and dropped into the pilot seat.

Contacting the control tower, external comms came back online—clearance for launch.

I opened the hatch and eased the Personal Ship forward.

Then, I linked up with RIO via the Tactical Weapon Integration Control System, took control, and initiated launch.

The controller gave me precise course instructions. Tone was sharp.

‘Once you’re off, turn around immediately. Pass beneath the station and head for Anoi Fortress.’

Seems like they don’t want to show the station’s damage.

I quietly pulled Fanell out of the Dimensional Storage Vault and moved it stealthily.

Let me take a look at the station through Fanell’s eyes.

Maybe it’s just playful mischief—targeting a suspicious prince.

I moved the Personal Ship slowly, just as the controller instructed.

I guided Fanell out through the station’s upper deck.

“Huh? Where’d it get damaged? You serious? You can actually pull off a repair this flawless?”

I didn’t believe it—still, I’d seen enough. I sent Fanell back.

As soon as Fanell entered the interference zone, I stowed it in the Dimensional Storage Vault.

Then I walked into Anoi Fortress’s hangar like nothing happened.

“Aliens, right? They probably have some tech to fix up the exterior in a flash.

They say advanced science is indistinguishable from magic, after all.”

I forced myself to accept the doubt. Met up with the others.

That regret—should’ve consulted the crew earlier—came much later.

This hangar was massive, built for fleet-scale storage.

Our office crew had eight ships total: the Personal Ships of the individuals, plus RIO.

The hangar was cylindrical, with the port side facing the wall—ships docked with their sides against it.

Tubes connected to it, allowing boarding and disembarking.

But even using the entire circumference of the wall wasn’t enough space.

So a pier extended from the center like a pillar, and ships docked there too.

The CEO’s pocket battleship was assigned to that pier.

The space was big enough to fit a kilometer-class battleship in each berth.

Even if our ships grew into massive dreadnoughts later, there’d still be room.

Perfect living quarters, really. Except for the whole “can’t go back to Earth” thing…

Added and revised on May 24, 2018.