Episode 24 Pirate Satellite Chicken Ball

Pirate Satellite Chicken Ball.

A spherical celestial body covered entirely in tan-colored minerals, with numerous turrets and gun emplacements scattered across its surface, as the name implies.

Inside, however, Dawson blinks rapidly upon seeing the scene beyond the airlock.

"This is a pirate base. The corridor is different from Hamano Onna's... "

The corridor, under artificial gravity, extends straight ahead, illuminated by white lights on white floors and walls.

No graffiti on the walls or floors. No pirates slumped unconscious.

The pirates Dawson encounters walking through the corridor are also different.

Talking casually among themselves, their faces showed no strain. They seemed far removed from alcohol or drugs. If not for the distinctive paint on their space suits, one might mistake them for ordinary satellite personnel.

Dawson had thought the pirate he happened to encounter was at least somewhat decent. Yet, upon boarding the Train moving through the station, he found almost no one else in the car but such pirates.

"There is still a possibility."

Dawson decided to go to the bar district—though there were no bars. Instead, there was a food street, so he went there.

Upon exiting the Train, he found a dining area so large, clean, and well-kept that it seemed unlikely to be a pirate stronghold.

While Dawson stood in stunned silence, Oine spoke through the camera feed from her helmet.

The store near the entrance is a well-known fast food chain specializing in S.U. The other establishments are similarly prominent. Alcohol service is centralized in the rear section, creating a dining area safe for children.

Is this truly a pirate stronghold?

The more he looked, the more it resembled an ordinary satellite structure—entirely unconnected to piracy.

Yet the patrons appeared anything but ordinary. Some wore space suits with intimidating designs. Others had mechanical augmentations replacing body parts.

These individuals, with their unsettling appearances, were nonetheless eating hamburgers with silver prosthetic hands, grimacing as red sauce dripped from their pizza onto elaborately designed suits, or a large-bodied man with a heavy frame hunched over, meticulously eating from a paper container.

The scene resembled a gathering of movie villains during a filming break.

"An apt observation. Indeed, that is precisely what it appears to be."

Dawson stepped into a scene utterly unlike the image one associates with pirates. He had decided, since he was already here, to eat something.

The dining area featured staff composed entirely of cyberbodies. They processed pirate orders with precision and delivered food swiftly. It was likely this speed that prevented the usually impatient pirates from developing unnecessary frustration.

Dawson moved deeper into the dining zone, past typical eateries, and entered a section that also provided alcoholic beverages.

Dawson had expected the pirates’ behavior to change with alcohol, but even here they maintained restraint in their drinking. No drunken figures sprawled on the floor, as would be common elsewhere. None were visible here.

One reason for this was the security robots lining the storefronts of the bars.

The robots were cylindrical, red like a fuel cap, with elaborate suppression equipment mounted on both sides. Likely equipped with powerful stun devices or mechanisms to fire large-caliber rubber rounds.

The robots were pointing cameras at the patrons, appearing to measure something.

‘They’re detecting alcohol levels in human breath,’

‘You can tell how drunk someone is just by looking at them?’

They’re designed to issue a warning when alcohol is detected in breath.

Still, the presence of surveillance means the pirates are drinking with restraint.

One might wonder if the pirates tolerate the existence of robots that restrict such freedoms.

Those pirates who dislike this atmosphere can go to another pirate base. That’s how only well-behaved pirates remain in Chicken Ball.

Dawson considers which atmosphere—Hamano Onna or Chicken Ball—better suits him.

Inside Hamano Onna, every corner held scenes of classic piracy. It was a place unlike any other, yet filled with dangers like illegal drugs and violence.

Inside Chicken Ball, the environment was indistinguishable from any other typical residential satellite.治安 was maintained at a consistent level, making it appear livable, yet there was no trace of novelty or stimulation.

For entertainment, Hamano Onna offered spectacle; for routine interaction, Chicken Ball offered familiarity—neither could be clearly preferred over the other.

Dawson ceased attempting to judge superiority. He located a hidden bar nestled between shops, concealed from view.

"Let’s gather information about Chicken Ball here."

Recalling a classic film scene where bars served as information hubs, Dawson opened the heavy door and stepped inside.

Upon seating himself at the bar counter, the bartender, dressed in a formal suit, looked up and offered a smile.

"First time here. How much do you enjoy your drinks?"

Honestly, I don’t drink often. Since I’m not strong, I’d prefer something light.

Light, you say. Then place your private plunder exemption card here.

The counter is wood-grained. A section near Dawson is square and darker in color. Placing the private plunder exemption card on the dark area causes the amount in Dawson’s account to appear briefly, then vanish.

In such a short time, no one can accurately judge how much money is present. So this system works—providing the customer’s funds are verified.

Then, first drink—Dajlinkooler.

A crimson cocktail in a tall glass is set before Dawson. Light from the ceiling reflects off the glass and the ice inside, giving the reddish liquid a shimmering glow.

Dawson opens the mouth of his mask and takes a sip.

Sweet fruit acidity, sharp ginger heat, carbonation pricking the tongue. The taste buds, activated by the stimulation, receive the flavor of black tea, a light astringency, and a refreshing citrus note. The sensation of alcohol is barely perceptible.

No raw ingredients exist on a pirate satellite like this one. All components must be synthetic. Yet there is no artificial quality to the taste, no sense of forced imitation.

"Good work. The way you make this drink."

"I accept your praise."

Dawson closes the mouth of his mask after drinking half the cocktail, then turns his face toward the bartender.

"This is my first day on this satellite. Tell me about this place."

"Will general knowledge suffice?"

"Affirmative. I want to know what the pirates here know."

The bartender responds in a quiet voice, answering Dawson's request.

"Then, I will briefly explain the origin of the satellite."

The bartender says the earliest phase of the pirate satellite ≪Chicken Ball≫ began when TR (True Lights) started modifying a natural satellite to serve as an invasion base.

"TR was an organization formed by intellectuals dissatisfied with SU society. They believed that even isolated within SU-controlled space, establishing a solid base would attract supporters. Once supporters gathered, they could strike SU warships from behind the front lines."

"Did SU simply watch as the satellite was改造?"

"At the time, TR and SU were engaged in fierce combat along the front lines. SU leadership and military officials apparently did not anticipate TR establishing a base within SU-controlled space."

But here, TR made a miscalculation.

Arming the satellite as a base had been effective. But the expected support did not materialize.

"Populations have inhabited this sector for one hundred and fifty years. Five or six generations have passed. People who have known only conditions of exploitation perceive that as normal. They have no inclination to resist. In effect, the mindset of subjugation has become ingrained."

"If support cannot be gained, maintaining the base deep within the target zone serves no purpose."

"The cost of modification was immense. Abandoning it was difficult. Therefore, TR issued privateering licenses. They gathered lawless elements from their own controlled space and sent them to the satellite. As custodians of the base, in exchange for retrieving valuable military personnel from the satellite."

"Given that background, this satellite is the origin point of piracy?"

Not necessarily the origin, but one of the oldest pirate strongholds is certain.

Even if it's the oldest, everywhere is clean. No sense of age at all.

The reason lies within what was mentioned earlier—the military officer from the earliest period assigned to retrofit the satellite. After leaving active duty, that officer obtained privateering authorization and became the satellite's first captain. By controlling the pirates who gathered there, the satellite maintained a degree of military discipline despite being a pirate base. That discipline persists to this day.

So the satellite is maintained with military discipline—hence the thorough cleaning of every section?

Another factor in discipline is the extensive use of impersonal processors. This pirate satellite integrates processors into various systems, allowing it to be managed and operated by a small crew. There is a rumor that one of these processors is dedicated solely to controlling cleaning robots.

Cleaning robots. That's right—there was a robot in this section earlier. Was that one a processor too?

Yes. That robot was designed to improve safety in this section. It was originally a riot suppression unit, repurposed from surplus equipment.

Dawson finished listening to the satellite's origins and drained the remainder of his cocktail. He ordered a new one.

Next, a red wine cooler. Mix the layers before tasting.

Dawson stirred it lightly and took a sip. The astringent taste of artificial wine, the scent of grapes, and the sharpness of fermented alcohol. Then, delayed, the syrupy sweetness of artificial sweetener and the intense citrus flavor of orange juice enveloped it.

Dawson frowned slightly. He stirred thoroughly and took another sip. The artificial odor of the ingredients faded. The bitterness of the wine and the grape scent remained, but the alcohol presence diminished, replaced by the crisp aroma and taste of orange juice, which now dominated the mixture.

"Mixing method changes everything."

"Some prefer a hint of chemical sharpness from a light stir. They say it feels like drinking alcohol, even though it's unhealthy."

"An inverted preference."

After another sip, Dawson requested a new situation from the bartender.

What kind of work do pirates do here? Is attacking merchant vessels allowed?

Yes. Any ship without a specific mark may be attacked. However, attacking a marked ship results in severe penalties. Light punishment: free service. Heavy punishment: ship seizure or execution by firearm.

That is frightening. I will avoid marked ships. Is it acceptable to challenge S.U. vessels?

It is not only acceptable. It is encouraged. Present proof of destruction, and credits are paid.

Just destruction. That is acceptable. My ship has no cargo capacity, so attacking merchant vessels was not worth it.

Dawson left a small amount of cocktail in the glass. He directed his final question to the bartender.

Can I purchase high-powered weaponry?

It depends on the extent.

"A weapon strong enough to take down an Orbit Patrol Cruiser."

"...That would be difficult. I've heard warships are designed so that they can only be destroyed by weapons of equal or greater caliber. The Main Cannon of the Orbit Patrol Cruiser is being used to reinforce the satellite's defenses. There is no surplus."

"I see. That's unavoidable."

Dawson finished the cocktail and picked up his privateering license from the counter. For a moment, the account balance flashed briefly—slightly less credit than before.

"Welcome back, whenever you return."

"When I feel like drinking again, I'll come back."

Dawson opened the heavy door and stepped outside, walking forward with the slight buoyancy in his step caused by the alcohol.