Episode 56: The Beginning of Leave

Space Station 'Wagoyama.' Before the general passenger boarding gate.

Dawson connected a public telephone to the orphanage where he had grown up.

"Ah, work is going smoothly. I'm not sick at all. No need to worry, Director. How about money? I can send more. Not needed? Are the children eating enough? That's good."

As Dawson spoke, the displayed payment amount on the public telephone rose steadily.

The orphanage where Dawson had grown up was not on the home planet of Amato Imperial Japan, but on a star system slightly farther away.

Interstellar communication was required, and since portable interstellar phones could not establish the connection, he had to pay high fees through fixed-line telephones like the public phone.

Dawson typically used email to communicate with contacts in other star systems, as it was less expensive.

However, to assess the current state of the orphanage from the director’s demeanor, conversation offered a clearer indication of deception through vocal inflection than written text.

At least, Dawson judged it so, and thus spoke via interstellar communication whenever possible.

“No need to worry. I’m suited to military life. I’m not doing it out of obligation. I find purpose in it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have advanced to the Officer Academy. No reason to stress. Yes. Understood. I’ll contact you again if there’s anything.”

Dawson returned the public phone receiver. The payment amount was confirmed. He narrowed his eyes at the figure.

As always, he inwardly resented the high cost.

"Military lines are paid by the military, but private calls are prohibited... "

A sense of miserliness mingled with the thought that allowing private use would make communication costs untenable.

Dawson rubbed his head to mask the sense of unease, then looked around.

Inside the space station 'Wagoyama', the space was meticulously arranged.

A wide area with white as the dominant color. Hanging from columns connecting ceiling to floor were artificial potted plants. All seating for guests had firm, resilient surfaces. Silent promotional advertisements flowed on spatial projection monitors, alternating between live-action and animated formats.

Ten or so drink varieties were available from the vending machines, half of which were extracts from natural substances like tea or coffee, diluted with water.

A cleaning robot equipped with artificial intelligence moved slowly, polishing not only the floor but also the walls and ceiling to a clean finish.

Dawson nodded, unconsciously.

"Those satellites of S.U. and T.R. are still too filthy."

He recalled the sight of the satellites on the other side—far from clean.

Cleaners were present, but without motivation. Floors and walls, dull with everyday grime, had only been wiped haphazardly. No chairs for guests. Rats scurried across the floor; insects crawled along the ceiling. The vending machine offered only a few drink varieties, all fluorescent-colored, suspicious-looking juices. The spatial projection monitor displayed only harsh, glaring text advertisements.

The memory returned with each thought—only filth.

"Such a scene... we should have discussed it in advance."

The person to speak with is the newly constructed battleship assigned to Dawson, and the military personnel accompanying it.

Some personnel are highly particular. If the individual cannot tolerate the living conditions of SUs or TRs, replacement must be suggested.

A battleship is a closed environment. If even one crew member becomes unstable, internal security deteriorates rapidly.

For this reason, those unable to adapt should be excluded in advance.

Dawson realized he did not know what kind of individual would arrive, and returned to Dock Four to ask Himena.

"Any candidates for crew members on the construction-phase battleship? There are some, but they won't be much use."

"Why?"

Initially, we planned to fill all personnel needs from the Rear Operations Office. However, an intervention occurred. We were told that if the base is a fortress改造ed from a satellite, then personnel of appropriate rank should be assigned to it—coming from above, directly.

So personnel are coming from that direction?

Rear Operations Office personnel, including Special Lieutenant Dawson, will be three. Three additional personnel from outside. That is what I have been informed.

Having personnel with different command structures is undesirable from a military standpoint.

There is nothing we can do. The argument that a high-ranking officer is necessary for the fortress commander position is valid.

...Well, with me included, there are three from the Rear Operations Office. That meets the minimum operational requirement specified in the design. There should be no issues when transferring to their side.

It sounds as though you're predicting problems will arise only after they arrive.

If you behave quietly, there will be no problems. If you do not, then it is simply not my concern.

Himenah looks unable to grasp the meaning of the statement.

"Is that a frightening statement?"

"It is of that nature. The standards of Amato Imperial Japan differ from those of SU and TR. And the name Amato Imperial Japan is not recognized by SU or TR. A person who does not understand that difference—what then?"

"...I have a bad feeling. I will not ask for an answer, nor will I speculate further."

"If you have a bad feeling, then convey to the proper party that you should send someone reasonable."

"Personnel from the rear operations room can be considered. But I have no authority over personnel from other departments, so that is difficult."

"Then, in the worst case, if they die over there, do not complain. Have them sign a statement to that effect. It is enemy territory. There is no guarantee they will return alive."

"Could manage that much, I suppose."

Himenah remained with a questioning expression as she relayed Dawson’s instructions to her superior in the rear operations room.

"Personnel are accounted for. How many battleships can be completed?"

Dawson’s question prompted Himenah to summon a spatial projection monitor and display the progress report.

"Work has only just begun, so this is only an estimate—about one month. It might take longer, though."

"Surprised it takes that long."

"We're already pushing the pace. Regular battleships often take a year to build."

"The *Mandible* was completed quickly, though?"

"It was a smaller vessel, and many major components were standard-issue, which sped things up. This time, it's a new construction, and every component is being fabricated from scratch. Naturally, that takes time."

"That's true. But a month... that's a long time."

Waiting idly for the mini battleship to be completed was nothing but boredom for Dawson.

"Is there a task for me until the ship is finished?"

"Complete freedom. A full leave."

"A leave, huh. I was thinking of doing a favor run, but that would only take a few days anyway..."

"Since it's a long leave, why not return home?"

"I just called them. Besides, a soldier returning home on long leave might cause misunderstandings."

"Ah. Long leave is usually granted for illness or injury. Or when you're being told, indirectly, to resign."

"I don't want to cause unnecessary worry through misinterpretation, so no return home."

That left Dawson with the need to fill an entire month with plans.

Training from childhood school through Officer Academy, short leave always ended in rest. What to do with free time is unclear.

Does the Special Lieutenant have no hobbies?

Hobbies? Not particularly.

Then, why not spend this month searching for a hobby? It would pass the time.

Indeed, searching for a hobby. That would work.

Dawson showed interest when, unexpectedly, Himena called a halt.

Ah, but wait a few more days at the Wago Yamah lodging facility. There is a small gift awaiting.

A few days? The exact number is not set?

There is a reason for that. Nothing bad, so just look forward to it. And even while staying at the lodging facility, one can still search for a hobby.

That is true.

Dawson looked puzzled, yet followed Himenā’s instructions and took a lodging facility room.

He lived in the hotel at a discounted rate using military privileges for several days.

The door to Dawson’s room, unvisited by guests, was knocked.

He approached the door, holding a blaster for precaution, assuming Himenā had come with a gift.

Through the fisheye lens, a girl with a princess-cut black long hair stood outside. Her expression was oddly confident. She wore a white dress with frills.

Dawson tilted his head, unfamiliar with the girl, and opened the door.

“Apologies, but you’re not mistaken about the room?”

The girl smiled brightly in response.

“I am not mistaken. I have come to see Dawson.”

Dawson’s alertness spiked at the unfamiliar girl speaking his name—but then dropped sharply upon recognizing the voice.

“That voice. You’re not seriously Oine, are you?”

“Oh? You caught me in one line. Quite the eye, Dawson.”

“Not ‘quite the eye’—what happened to your body?”

“I asked Himena to make it for me.”

Her chest puffed out, gently pushing against the inside of her dress’s neckline.

Looking at the flawless humanoid form, Dawson felt a headache coming on.

“Is this some kind of rivalry with Ida and the others?”

“Not exactly. Still, it’s strange—my juniors have bodies like this, but I don’t. So I asked for the best one.”

“The best one? What makes it the best?”

A form based on a female ideal favored by men of Amato Imperial Japan. Yet inside, it is a combat android of unparalleled fighting prowess. Combined with the intellect of this Oine, it is no exaggeration to call it a perfect being!

"You're overreaching."

Upon closer inspection, the eyes are lenses. The mouth is incapable of ingestion. The body lacks the slight tremor typical of a girl.

Yet the texture of the hair and skin is realistic. The presence of artificial intelligence lends it an almost lifelike quality.

"I see. Indeed, the craftsmanship is excellent. If silent, it would seem like a noble lady secluded in a palace."

"Silent, you say? Are you implying I lack grace when I speak!?"

"Exactly as it is. Where in Oine could grace possibly exist—"

Dawson began a familiar exchange but stopped mid-sentence.

He understood, from a calm external perspective, that the situation was extremely dangerous.

"——For now, enter. No, check out. I planned to start searching for hobbies today, so you'll be coming with me, Oine."

"Very well. Oine also wished to move, to become more accustomed to this body."

Dawson gathered his belongings and immediately left the room, walking ahead. Oine followed behind, moving with the light steps of a young girl.

The combination of a man with the stern, military presence and a girl whose beauty seemed drawn from a painting was so striking that onlookers could not help but glance twice.

Some among the onlookers hesitated, nearly reaching for a communications device, but stopped upon seeing the girl walking happily behind the man who paid her no attention. It was clear she was following of her own will.