063 Nomad Arc 3 NPC?

Today’s second installment.

Last time was the glossary and spaceship equipment section.

Reading it will clear up a few uncertainties.

Twenty days since I arrived at Anoi Fortress.

Living day to day on rations from the Empire, but something changed in the Terran sector.

Seems like the meddling types started their own自治 organization.

Left to their own devices, they really did just go ahead and do whatever they wanted.

Acting as the Earthling representative on a whim, helping with food distribution on a whim.

The system’s been running smoothly until some unnecessary interference showed up—now rations are late every single time.

They seem to call themselves an NPO.

'Ping pong♪'

We’re gathered at the office when, suddenly, the intercom buzzes.

Yes, what is it?

Ichimaru peers into the intercom camera and replies.

We're from the neighborhood association. We've come to discuss something urgent.

Yes? Go ahead.

Ichimaru lets himself in, claiming to be a member of the self-governing association, and lets the others into the office too.

A man in his late thirties just strolled into the president’s office where we’d gathered.

I shoved past the person whose face appeared on the intercom—friendly-looking, but still, I shoved past.

"Satō, head of the community council. Everyone's worn out from the evacuation. I came here to arrange a visit from entertainers to cheer you all up."

Something about the way they're talking down to me is seriously annoying.

"Is this about a work contract, then?"

"Huh? It's gotta be volunteer work for everyone, right? Just sing one song on stage."

When President Kamizawa narrowed his brows in question, Sato spat out, as if it were obvious.

We're professionals. We don't take on jobs that don't come with payment—and we don't do them.

"Hey! Don't mess with us refugees!"

(Here we go again! The Refugees' Supreme!)

Refugee Supreme refers to those who, upon attaining refugee status, delude themselves into thinking they're above everyone else—demanding anything they want, utterly beyond reason.

You don’t get to extort everything just because you’re a refugee. Not even close.

They’re a disgrace to everyone else, ruining things for the decent people.

"We’re refugees too, you know. If that’s the kind of talk, please leave."

President Kamizawa activates her intimidation skill.

(Whoa? Can the boss actually do that?)

"Ugh... remember this."

The self-proclaimed chairperson delivers the standard dramatic exit line, then vanishes with her crew.

"What was that about?"

"Dunno. But we definitely shouldn’t get involved."

We might’ve even cooperated, depending on how it was said.

After that, rations stopped coming to us.

Never thought those food reserves would actually come in handy at a time like this.

"Alright, you can't back down from a fight you've already started, can you?"

"Obviously not! Stopping rations? That’s the Empire’s doing. We’re storming the Anoi garrison’s administration tower!"

President Kamizawa was furious.

I followed the president as he headed toward the administration building.

"We’ve come to investigate. Our rations are being stolen. I want to speak with the top administrator—face to face."

When we arrived at the Anoi administration tower, President Kamizawa demanded an audience with the head of the government.

"Please wait a moment!"

The receptionist with dog ears called her superior.

"They’ll see you. A guide will arrive shortly—please wait."

The receptionist cowered, ears flat against her head, intimidated by President Kamizawa’s glare.

Waiting felt like sitting on needles.

After a while, a soldier in uniform appeared.

I braced myself, expecting to be restrained by President Kamizawa.

But he wasn’t carrying a weapon—nothing at all—and simply led me straight to the representative’s office.

The soldier knocked on the office door.

“Enter!”

A voice, rough and close to a growl, invited us in.

“Two visitors, sir.”

“Hm. Good work.”

The soldier stood at attention, reported, pivoted sharply, and left.

Behind the desk sat a high-ranking officer in military uniform.

He stood and extended a hand.

“This is Commander Sanders, commander of the Anoi Fortress. What’s going on?”

Commander Sanders was a bulldog-type alien, all sharp angles and thick fur.

(Almost had it—should’ve been Colonel instead of Major… w.)

“Sit over there for now.”

We were offered seats on the lounge set.

“We’re here to find out why our rations were cut off.”

“Rations stopped for Earth-born humans?”

“Probably not everyone—just a select few.”

“A local council, then.”

Commander Sanders seems to have a hunch too.

“Right after our interests clashed… likely that’s it…”

“Huh. Always thought it was fishy. Guess I was right.”

“Frankly, we’ve never approved affiliation with the council. We don’t recognize them as representatives.”

“What? That means the application had false information! Unacceptable!”

Commander Sanders begins drafting the statement.

He asks for our review, then demands signatures.

It stated: we never declared affiliation with the council, we have no record of approving Mr. Sato’s appointment as representative, and this is accurate.

I glance at President Kamizawa—she nods in agreement.

A signal that it’s okay to sign.

President Kamizawa, please continue—sign the statement with me.

“Hmm, no mistake here.”

Commander Sanders had somehow produced the application documents.

They were the official forms declaring our approval of Mr. Sato’s appointment as representative.

Commander Sanders was comparing the signature on those documents with the one in the statement before us.

That’s when it became clear—definitively, a forged document.

“Apologies. Earth signatures are unfamiliar to us, and our judgment on authenticity was… negligent.”

Commander Sanders bowed deeply.

But his eyes burned with a furious flame.

Naturally, the target was the council.

In the blink of an eye, military police had assembled and stormed the council hall.

Ten key figures, including the council chairmen, were arrested and their other crimes investigated.

Sato forged consent forms from every Earthling, appointed himself Earth’s representative without authorization.

He’d also been siphoning rations under the guise of “handling fees” for his own benefit.

A non-profit organization charging handling fees?

Think about how many genuine efforts these frauds must be sabotaging.

Please, just stop pretending to be a non-profit if you’re too lazy to actually care.

When people found out, they got furious. Earth’s sector split in two.

Total Earthlings: 256. 187 left.

Or rather, they didn’t even know they were part of it to begin with, so they just went back.

Oddly enough, some still want to stay in the community council. Maybe they were getting special treatment?

Naturally, we’re the anti-council faction.

We reclaimed the rations from their hands and handed them over to the government agency that’s actually on the ball.

For now, we’ve got our normal life back—and a few solid connections to boot.

The ten Sato group members were given strict warnings due to minor offenses, and were barred from assuming any responsible positions.

Sixty-nine so-called autonomous organizations—useless, uninvolved, and entirely irrelevant—remained.

This would later lead to a situation so incomprehensible it defied explanation.

Added a note clarifying that Commander Sanders’ home search wasn’t launched too hastily, but only after evidence was secured.

Added a line emphasizing that these self-proclaimed autonomous groups were, in fact, fake NGOs, in light of recent hate speech concerns.

This is explicitly stated: no intention to attack the genuine individuals involved.