064 Wandering Arc 4 The Future of Earth Refugee Settlements

For some reason, I ended up summoned to the executive branch with President Kamizawa.

I’m led into the representative’s office at the Anoi Fortress Command.

“Good to see you. Have a seat.”

Commander Sanders, his voice as flat as ever, gestures for me to sit.

“Actually, I’ve called you here for a specific reason. I want to discuss the future of the Earth refugees.”

Both me and President Kamizawa tilt our heads.

“I’m not even a representative of Earth. Just a businessman.”

“I’m just a high school student.”

“Hahah, really now.”

What’s with the misunderstanding?

Commander Sanders begins.

“After all this time, living off aid alone—don’t you think you’re getting tired of it?

From now on, we’ll have to fight with the possibility of reclaiming Earth in mind.”

So, how about it—ready to hit the field soon, to beef up our gear and earn some freedom money?

“Coercion?”

President Kamizawa’s eyes gleam.

“No, voluntary. If you’re content with refugee life, fine. But if anyone’s itching for real play, we’ll back them.”

Commander Sanders uses an SFo term—unexpected, given the context.

“Real play” means direct combat with enemy forces.

Conversely, simulated battles in virtual space are called “virtual play.”

“Then I’ll take you up on that. But first, send someone to brief us on this star system. I’ll give you my answer after.”

“Fair enough. Charging in blind’s worse than knowing the lay of the land. Got it. I’ll send someone.”

“Then—female, please!”

President Kamizawa gives me a discreet thumbs-up for my smooth assist.

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There are two kinds of SFO players.

The virtual players who enjoy fleet combat games in simulated space—what some call mock battles—and the real players who actually fight for real money in actual combat.

The virtual player’s battlefield is in the simulation. No injuries. No real deaths.

The real player’s battlefield is in the real world. Literally life-or-death.

I’d wandered into the battlefield casually, without realizing it, treating it like an extension of the game. No real sense of reality.

But death was there, all the same. Real and waiting.

I didn’t fully grasp that truth until I became a refugee.

Now, the Anoi government has offered me a real player job.

President Kamizawa was circulating information to our group, gathering anyone interested into the office’s main conference room.

Out of the 187 people, about forty showed up. Self-proclaimed neighborhood association? Whatever. Don’t care.

People who actually cared, people who just wanted info, one fleet representative who read the room—various types.

“Thank you all for gathering. We’ve assembled today to explain the job requested by the Anoi government, and to give a briefing on the current situation surrounding the Anoi fortress. Our instructor is an AI support unit dispatched from the Anoi government… what was your name again?”

“I am a dispatched organic terminal AI from the Anoi government. I have no name.”

“Hmm, that’s a problem. How about ‘Ai’? Like ‘love’—the ‘Ai’ from love?”

“Boss, that’s lazy. I mean, I can’t talk about others when I’m the one doing it…”

I remembered Rio’s naming choice and felt my face flush.

"Registered. Henceforth, the name 'Ai' will be recognized as your designation."

"Ah… looks like it’s been registered already…"

First to come up was the matter of work, from Miss Ai.

"In the Anoi Government, we’re recruiting vessels—ships, really—to fight alongside us, just like on Earth.

The conditions are identical to Earth’s. You’ll receive the same support, same rights to recovered materials, same tax agreements, and so on.

With that, you’ll gain free access to the restricted commercial zones. Go ahead and conduct full economic activity with your profits."

"Ooooh!"

"Also, not participating won’t mean abandonment. Whether you join or not, we’ll continue supporting everyone equally as refugees."

A cheer rose from the rowdy drunkards who’d been barred from drinking. Probably itching to head straight to the bars in the commercial zone.

They were real players, living full-time on the station.

True, old-school mercenaries, if you ask me. They’ll be the first to sign up, no doubt.

Aya continues.

"Since some of you might not know, I'll explain—this is a virtual play-centric environment.

There's an emergency teleportation system. If a ship suffers critical damage, the player's body is safely transferred away.

It's not 100% safe, but if you avoid direct damage to the CIC, survival is nearly guaranteed.

Our Empire prioritizes the player's life above all else."

"Wait... seriously? So I've been fighting without knowing...?"

Yeah, I can't tell readers things I don’t know myself.

(huh! Readers? What even are readers?)

"Next, I'll explain the positioning of this planet, Anoi.

It's a frontier world on the edge of the Empire's core territories—similar to Earth, in that sense, a so-called frontline.

Via a dimensional transfer gate, it's located in the neighboring star system to Earth."

It’s not physically adjacent. A star system we can’t even observe optically, distance-wise.

Whether it’s in the same galaxy is uncertain.

Just remember this: Dimensional Jump Gates tend to connect to certain inherent locations.

“…What’s Earth like right now?”

An older mercenary—real player, in their words—asks.

“Prince-sama’s information. So it’s unconfirmed.

The Dimensional Jump Gate is open. Recon ships attempted forced reconnaissance, but all were sunk.

They believe Earth’s orbit likely fell into enemy hands.

The Empire’s planning a counteroffensive to reclaim Earth. But it’ll take time.

You Earth-born folks—build up your forces, stockpile strength, and prepare for the operation.”

“How are the people of Earth being treated?”

The young fleet leader asks.

I thought the same. If they’re an invading force, we can’t be sure how Earthlings will be treated.

“We Empire forces aren’t exactly certain of the enemy’s intentions either.

But looking at past planets we’ve reclaimed, there’s no room for optimism.”

“Specifically?”

(Oh come on, you really asking that? You think I’m gonna spell it out?)

“People have gone missing. Whether it’s voluntary or forced, alive or dead—unknown.”

“Damn it! I’m going to fight!”

He probably left family behind on Earth. Naturally worried. Makes sense.

I get why he can’t just sit there and wait.

But charging straight into battle like this? Not exactly wise.

“How frequent are the combat engagements? Is it just a case of them attacking, and we repel?”

“The enemy’s attack frequency and fleet size seem smaller than Earth’s.”

There’s also a mission to provide support to nearby star systems being attacked.

Support operations are treated as optional quests, so whether or not you join is entirely up to you.”

“So basically, there are a few battlefields where dimensional jumps don’t take much time.”

The mercenary old-timer nods, satisfied.

They’d prefer more battlefields—more chances to earn.

“Are only Earthlings and Anoi fighting on the front lines?”

“There is no such thing as an ‘Anoi’ race. Just a few survey teams and military garrisons stationed on Anoi from the imperial territories.

The garrisons are divided into three divisions based on their home territories.

Catfolk from Caprius, Dogfolk from Graul, and a mixed force from smaller territories.

One thing to note: don’t call the chimeras ‘beasts.’ It’s a derogatory term.”

“Are the three divisions coordinated?”

"Dogs and cats don’t get along. Try not to get caught in the crossfire."

Damn. We Brush Lips are definitely dog-side, then.

Too close to Commander Sanders. Please don’t let the cats cause trouble.

Mina from the cat clan was a good person. I don’t want to fight just because of faction politics.

"Anyway, I think I’ve explained the essentials. Any questions?"

Ai scans us, prompting questions. Nothing so far.

"I’ll be stationed here permanently, so feel free to come by if you have anything to ask."

"Huh? Here? In the office?"

"Yes."

Ai moved into the office.

Revised May 24, 2018, partial update.