Chapter 165: Banquet

The pirates were elated after repelling the Space Navy.

This was true even at the Chicken Ball, their base of operations, upon their return.

"Learned your lesson, you S.U. government scum!"

"The Space Navy? Just a fleet of paper ships!"

In the dining district, pirates who had participated in the battle ate, drank, and celebrated.

Today was a celebration, so all food and drink were free. Alcoholic beverages, normally sold only in restricted sectors, were distributed across general areas. A true display of generosity.

The host of this banquet was Goud, the manager of the Chicken Ball.

"Good work, everyone. Help yourselves—drink and eat until your stomachs burst."

"Ah, Manager Goud, such a generous heart!"

"Let’s enjoy ourselves without restraint!"

The pirates laughed heartily, energized by the feast.

Some among them had lost acquaintances or comrades in the previous battle, yet not a single one showed it. All were enjoying the feast.

Among them, Dawson sat at a prominent table alongside Major Alma, wearing a mask.

He had been forced to attend the banquet and assigned a seat based on his role in the decisive engagement.

Dawson silently ate, adjusting his mask as he consumed food and drink. Alma sat with an air of entitlement, clearly accustomed to such praise.

The contrast between the two drew amused comments from the pirates.

"Cheers to Dawson, the reckless one who always plans impossible missions!"

"Cheers to Dawson, the brave one who rushes into danger first!"

"Cheers to Alma, fearless before the enemy fleet!"

"Cheers to Alma, merciless in placing allies in peril!"

Dawson waved his hand dismissively in reply, murmuring a vague affirmation. Major Alma motioned for more words with a gesture.

Such differing attitudes might amuse the pirates, who laughed and raised their cups, pouring the next round.

Dawson, beneath his mask, made a face of mild exasperation at the pirates’ boisterous mood.

Major Alma leaned in close, speaking in a low tone.

“Why not remove the mask? Show your true face.”

“This mask is my trademark among the pirates. No reason to take it off.”

“You’re just not ready to show your face. For the sake of future developments.”

“…If you already understand, then why ask?”

“No, no. I want to hear it from you, in your own words.”

Dawson gave Alma a half-lidded glance through the mask.

"You expected as much. You're planning to build a pirate-led state. A criminal nation, established."

"In the previous battle, pirates demonstrated the capacity to repel the Starforce. With that capability, establishing a single nation is feasible."

"Once that happens, the Orion Arm will shift from a Starforce monopoly to an era of multiple powers—Starforce, TR, pirate states, and independent enterprises competing."

"Three people form factions. With nations, the possibility increases exponentially."

"Conflicts and alliances between nations will keep the Orion Arm unstable. When that happens, Starforce will lack the capacity to expand into the Amato Arm."

"Thus, your mission is complete through such circumstances."

"Negotiate as a pirate state. Secure a permanent cessation of Starforce's abandonment of the Amato Arm. That would be perfect."

It is, at this stage, near fantasy. But achievable.

All that remains is for Dawson to carry it out.

After hearing the plan, Major Alma asks further.

"What then. What will you do after completing the mission?"

"Continue as a pirate? Or return to Starforce?"

"Exactly. State your desire."

The words amounted to a push from the position of authority. Dawson hesitated behind his mask.

"My desire? Only a salary increase. I intend to follow orders from the rear operations room."

"...What? You're serious? After succeeding so close to completion, you ask for a raise!?"

"There's nothing surprising about that. You're the type who wouldn't miss a detail. You know I'm an orphan. You know why I joined the military."

"Working for a salary to live, and sending money to the orphanage, that’s all."

"So if I get a salary sufficient to live and send money, I’m satisfied. If the salary doesn’t increase, I have no interest in rising in rank."

"You don’t dream of commanding a battleship, or having a large number of subordinates, like most soldiers?"

"Of course not. A battleship is a tool for completing missions, not an object of desire. A large number of subordinates would only complicate management."

"Hey now. Is that the kind of thing you say to a battleship captain? Well, I’ll agree that managing many subordinates is difficult."

General Alma grasped Dawson’s character roughly at this point.

A person with independent values, yet committed to reason.

"So then, you have no interest in a position within a pirate nation you’d build either?"

"No. Let whoever becomes national president handle it as they see fit."

"You're a cornerstone of the military division for pirates. Is that acceptable?"

"Hand the mask over to the full-body AI. Let that AI perform 'Dawson the pirate.' If a capable pirate emerges, they'll naturally replace me."

"You truly have no interest in status or position?"

"Frankly, I'm a military officer of the Amato Imperial Japan. Holding a high rank within the Orion Arm presents complications."

"What would you say to Colonel Goudo if you told him that?"

"...Goudo considers being the pirate leader his true calling. That's why he's fine with it."

In the Amato Stellar Navy, combat effectiveness is prioritized. Goudo's lack of battlefield talent led others to dismiss his capabilities.

Yet Goudo specializes in logistical security, base operations management, and mediating pirate disputes—support functions conducted in the rear.

The proper application of his abilities made it undeniable that a pirate syndicate’s founding chair would suit him better than the Amato Naval Force.

"Then it's settled. Goudo Lieutenant Commander will be the first chairman of the pirate state?"

"He'll manage. Better than me, by far."

"Hah. You're the one specialized in combat, aren't you? So leadership doesn't sit right with you?"

"Call no one a battle maniac. I've never used violence beyond necessity."

"Rumor has it you bit into instructors at the Officer Academy. How does that fit the image of someone who claims restraint?"

"Breaking a useless, incompetent instructor required necessary force."

Dawson spoke with a sullen tone. Alma Major let out a quiet chuckle.

Unaware or indifferent to the exchange, the pirates’ celebration continued to grow louder.