Prologue — Privateer vessel ≪Big Jaw≫

Milky Way Galaxy, Orion Arm. The stellar arm where the solar system of Earth, the ancestral home of humanity, is located. It remains a primary site of human activity after humanity expanded into space.

Numerous stars currently exist within the Orion Arm. Many people have settled across these stars. Habitable planets, terraformed planets, artificial satellites (colonies), and artificial planets (biotopes) alike.

The stars are connected by the Star Arm Nebula (main route), created through interstellar travel technology, and the Interstellar Side Route (sub route), formed through local residents' travel experience.

Of course, since these routes exist in space, they do not have physical paths like those on planetary surfaces. They exist only as data routes.

One vessel was navigating the Star Arm Nebula.

Transport vessel Hapen Whale. Maximum crew capacity: 30,000. Minimum operational crew: 2,000. Cargo capacity: approximately 20 million OCU—500 million metric tons. Internal welfare facilities fully equipped.

It lacks speed but can carry vast quantities of cargo—comparable to an ultra-large container ship from Earth's era.

Hapen Whale operates with 3,000 crew, slightly above the minimum required, due to staff reductions implemented by its owning corporation for cost-cutting reasons. Two thousand crew members perform tasks while one thousand rest, with shifts rotating every five hundred crew members—operationally inefficient, but better than the absolute minimum.

The reason Hapen Whale operates with such reduced staffing is clear.

First, vessels traveling through the Star Arm Nebula must pay operating fees to the Space Union, the nation that oversees humanity’s expansion into space. The fee is substantial and places significant strain on operations.

The route justifies the high cost.

Navigation charts use certified data and are marked with frequent beacons, so there is no risk of getting lost while on the route. The SU (Space Union) military conducts regular patrols, ensuring the route remains free from space pirates. Rest stations, including artificial satellites, are widely available. If a ship breaks down and becomes unable to proceed, crews can evacuate and repair the vessel at one of these stations.

The Star Arm Nebula is the preferred route for cargo vessels—safe and on schedule, worth the high cost of operation despite the financial strain.

Because it is a safe route, the crew of the transport vessel *Harpun Whale* had nothing to do.

Engines were operating within specifications. The engineer had no reason to monitor performance. Security personnel had no one to regulate—passengers were all company employees, known by sight. Inspections of the cargo pods—large containers resembling those from the Earth era—would not be required for some time.

Just as the crew were idle, so too were the bridge crew.

No debris posing a threat to the hull. Navigating as scheduled—ah, monitoring the screens is getting dull.

"There’s something worth watching over there, so it’s not pointless. Here, we’re bound by regulation to hold the wheel, but there’s no reason to do it manually when automatic navigation would suffice."

"Having a wheel at all is better than nothing. Compared to the others, I’m just monitoring engine status on the twin propulsion units. The engineer is watching it directly—so what’s the point of this, I don’t understand."

On the bridge, conversation flared over who performed the most meaningless task.

But such talk gradually faded. Idle time wasn’t new—this vessel had been cruising without incident since departure. The subject had run dry.

"Hah. I know the company wants safe, secure space travel. But a route this uneventful drains all motivation."

Let’s stop at the satellite for rest. A little diversion—no, a stimulating break is needed.

Don’t be ridiculous. The schedule is tight. No time to detour to a satellite.

The man at the helm waved his hand. A spatial projection monitor appeared before the man who had requested rest. The display showed the transport vessel *Harpen Whale*'s navigation plan and the current surplus time.

Focusing only on the surplus time revealed oscillation between plus one minute and minus one minute.

In short, it indicated the need to proceed without interruption to the delivery point, on schedule.

Ah… Even though the artificial satellites in the Star Arm Nebula have alcohol and women, we’re only allowed to pass by.

Even if you stopped at a satellite, your savings balance wouldn’t get you decent liquor or a decent woman.

Thinking about places you cannot go only makes you miserable. Let’s stop.

Would this endless, idle time be spent on trivial conversation?

The thought arose immediately, when the bridge monitor sounded an alert.

At that moment, the crew members panicked.

“What kind of alarm is this?”

“Engines are nominal.”

“Alarm is here—high-energy alert! It’s a projectile!”

Immediately after the monitor operator shouted, the external display showed a thick, bright beam passing just below the bow. A moment later, the hull vibrated. The ship rocked from the impact of a nearby projectile.

“Where is the fire coming from? That beam was unusually wide! Was it a misfire from the Space Force!?!”

“Space Force doesn’t fire without warning! This is definitely the work of space pirates.”

"Damn it, enemy ships aren’t showing on the monitor. Either active radar stealth or long-range artillery!"

The bridge crew, caught off guard, abandoned their rest and entered the command deck. They activated auxiliary systems, attempting to locate the source of the incoming fire.

Before their efforts bore fruit, the bridge monitor switched displays on its own.

The image had shifted from the void of space to a figure wearing a mask. The upper half of the mask was smooth and entirely white. The lower half was black and shaped like the massive mandibles of an insect.

The sudden appearance of the strange figure left the bridge crew stunned.

The figure ignored their reactions and began speaking.

This vessel is the privateer starship *Mandible*. You are ordered to release two cocoons. Comply, and we will allow you to proceed. Refuse, and we will destroy you by fire. You have three minutes.

After the unilateral declaration, the monitor displayed '3:00', and the countdown began immediately: '2:59'.

The captain, among the bridge crew, shouted at the suspicious figure.

"Three minutes is too short! Give us more time to decide!"

"You forgot to mention. Even in the Star Arm Nebula, emergency calls to the military are useless. It will take ten minutes for a military vessel to arrive. We will have ample time to escape after sinking you in three minutes. In fact, we are already past the two-minute mark."

The transport captain gritted his teeth, recognizing the declaration as a refusal to negotiate.

"Damn it. They’ve already accounted for our response..."

The bridge crew offered opinions to the captain, who hesitated.

"Captain. The demand is only two cocoons. Release them immediately. That will let this ship escape."

"That's right. Only two out of twenty million. The company will accept it as necessary loss."

"Release the ones with pirate insurance. The ones with pirate clause coverage!"

Almost all bridge crew urged acceptance of the pirates' demand.

For a moment the captain wondered if these crew members were allies of the pirates. He dismissed the thought as impossible.

He saw the monitor count change to '0:59'. He made his decision.

"Release two cocoons. Emergency purge. Use the insured ones!"

"Selection already completed. Captain, authorization required!"

The space projection monitor before the captain displayed the words 'Authorize?' The captain pressed 'YES' without hesitation.

Two cocoons were immediately ejected from the transport vessel <>, drifting into the void of space.

The pirate in the strange mask spoke, as if seeing the scene.

'Wise decision. Proceed as planned. Wishing you safe passage.'

The screen switched to a projection of the space environment.

Relief filled the bridge, but the alert sounded again.

'What now?'

'Short-range jump detection. They've arrived to retrieve the cocoons. The pirate vessel is here.'

As the crew member on the surveillance monitor stated, a ship emerged from a jump directly beside the transport vessel <>.

The vessel was small—small enough that it seemed improbable it had fired the earlier barrage—positioned just above the legal minimum for interstellar travel under standard regulations.

Its hull, yellow in color, with an abnormal bulge at the bow and lower section, gave it a resemblance to a tropical fish.

If that vessel was a tropical fish, then the anchor protruding from what would be its fin had latched onto the drifting cocoon in space. The anchor cable wound around, securing the cocoon to both ends of the yellow hull.

With that configuration, the yellow vessel performed another spatial jump. A second jump immediately after the first, without pause. That alone revealed the vessel was not ordinary. Standard vessels required at least ten minutes of recharge after any short-range jump.

"Could that yellow vessel be the one the pirates called the <>?"

"Impossible. You saw that barrage. That was destroyer-level Main Cannon fire. It couldn't have carried something like that."

The yellow vessel aside, they had paid a high price for safety and still been attacked by pirates.

This was a matter demanding protest against the SU Space Fleet, which guaranteed safety in the Star Arm Nebula.

"Even now and going forward, I suppose I'll have plenty of time to waste, but I didn't want this kind of disturbance."

The captain released a voice tinged with fatigue and leaned back into the chair. Returning to the captain's quarters, he felt so exhausted he wanted to shut off artificial gravity and experience weightlessness.

After seizing two cocoons from the transport vessel <>, the yellow privateer jumped into a slightly distant course.

On the bridge of that ship, a man sat in a chair.

More accurately described, a single person could barely fit in the bridge—no longer a space resembling a humanoid weapon or high-speed craft cockpit—where a single individual sat alone.

"Surroundings scanned—no other vessels detected. Resume filling long-range jump drive and Main Cannon. Engine output stable. No issues."

In the confined space, a young man with short brown hair and slightly upward-slanting black eyes performed checks and tasks one after another, touching physical monitors with his hands.

On the wall surface, a white-and-black two-tone mask, identical to the one worn by the figure seen on the transport vessel <>, was mounted.

Yes. This young man was the captain of the privateer vessel <>.

The youth was working when suddenly a third party's voice came through. No one else was in the room.

『First victory at a new post. No significant damage to the ship. This is a major success!』

The overly bright voice of a woman came from the speaker mounted in the small room.

The youth exhaled dramatically upon hearing the voice.

『Hah... You've said that before. Lower the volume at least. Your anime voice hurts my ears.』

『How cruel! The AI determined this voice is necessary for Dawson. That's the setting! Tyranny! Oppression!』

The youth's face showed irritation as he was addressed by name, the loud protest clearly intentional.

"Communication AI? I didn't need that. So why was it preinstalled on this ship?"

"Heh. Because it's the law. When operating a spacecraft independently, the law requires that a conversational AI be onboard."

"That's Amato Imperial Japan's law, not ours—the Human Unified State Space Union's. And SU doesn't recognize sentient AIs anyway."

Dawson voiced his complaint. The female-sounding voice, resembling an AI, stiffened in tone.

"What are you saying, Dawson Eida, Special Lieutenant? This operation is a military mission under our nation's authority. Therefore, the law that applies is not Union law, but Amato Imperial Japan's."

I understand. I know my role, and I know you're the one keeping watch. You're supposed to be a communication AI—shouldn't you grasp a little banter? And if you're monitoring me, shouldn't you know why I won't betray you?

……Eh-hee, fakey-fakey~? How about that? Scared yet? Scared a little?

Listen. That was too much of an excuse. What you just said was clearly serious tone.

Muu! A small mistake is unavoidable! I'm not even a year old, after all, and I'm on a different star system—so I can't stay constantly connected to the original source!

The AI, sulking, prompted Dawson to scratch the back of his head.

Growth takes time, even for an AI—Oine. Report the hull status verbally.

The AI, addressed by name, responded with a cheerful, animated female voice.

Reporting! Main Cannon and jump drive systems at full charge. No hull damage detected. Ready for immediate jump. Also, the contents of the cocoon—both are artworks. One is a painting, the other a vehicle.

Understood—wait, a vehicle? Isn’t that just a vehicle?

Antique cars are considered artworks. Didn’t you know?

Bad luck, I didn’t. I was raised in an orphanage. Joined military school as a child. Don’t know much about civilian vehicles beyond military models.

What a tragic upbringing. And being trained for military service from childhood explains why Dawson is so competent. Promoted to special duty lieutenant, after all.

Rank-wise, perhaps. But being sent alone into enemy territory aboard a privateer? That’s more like exile.

Dawson would return, that’s what this promotion means. Go with confidence!

“Always talking big, aren’t you?”

Dawson smiled faintly, shifting the *Mandible* into long-range spatial jump.

Destination: one of the pirate stronghold’s outposts, a hub for small-scale trade. There, he would sell the contents of the cocoon.

As the ship entered the jump space from normal space, the system took over automatically until exit. Dawson closed his eyes on the bridge.

Recalling why he had become the captain of a privateer.

Never wrote about space before. Thought I’d try it.

No safety net, but I’ll do my best.

Will keep updating!