08. Going to See the Received Spaceship 1 Arrival

And finally, the morning of departure—nine o’clock.

I was seated on the bench in the first-floor lobby of my apartment building. Naturally, empty-handed.

Ain arrived at the building at nine-five. She wore her usual outfit, though she wasn’t carrying that bag today.

We entered the elevator together, as before, and boarded the shuttle from the rooftop of the apartment complex.

The Japanese archipelago shrank beneath us. Earth grew smaller still. No strange vibrations. No sound. No sensation of acceleration pressing us into our seats—so it was hard to believe we were moving at all, though we must have been going quite fast.

Ain sat beside me, eyes closed. Was she asleep?

There was nothing to say, and after thirty minutes of staring at the starfield, even that had grown tiresome. So I closed my eyes too.

This was the second time I’d been in space, and already I was bored of the starfield. Even I, as a bystander, thought the sense of wonder was rather thin. If I were an astronaut, I suppose the emotion would have been far more profound—after years of grueling training, finally breaking free into the void.

I must have dozed off, drifting in and out, while my eyes remained shut.

Checking my wristwatch, I’d apparently slept for about ten hours. I had no memory of being that tired, so the fact that I’d slept that long was more surprising than anything. I still felt like I’d only been asleep for an hour or so.

Jupiter loomed large in my right eye. A faint ring around it was visible. Ah, so Jupiter has rings too. The Great Red Spot, though, is invisible from this angle.

“Jupiter flight was scheduled for eleven hours real-time, but due to the underdeveloped communication skiff, we’ve adjusted Mr. Yamada’s perception to make the journey feel closer to two hours.”

Right, I must’ve slept for ten hours. Or, really, just one in my own mind?

“Front and center is the mother ship of this liaison vessel—the construction vessel SII-001. The disc to its left is the hyperlane gate. The S2-class cruiser that will be delivering Mr. Yamada to Agirakana lies just before the gate. The six smaller vessels surrounding it are P2-class destroyers.”

“The white circle on the right and the one on the left look identical. So, the red disc and the white triangle—those are different?”

“Both the construction vessel and the cruiser use S2-class hulls, so their appearances are nearly indistinguishable. Also, the active hyperlane gate surface appears red, it seems.”

The "S" in S2-class denotes a spherical shape; the "P" in P2-class signifies a pyramid form. The "2" indicates it is the second-largest size in that configuration. For ease of understanding, Yamada-san, it's presented in Earth-approximate terms. The six destroyers here—each equipped with torpedo weaponry—form a single torpedo squadron, consisting of one light cruiser as flagship and six accompanying destroyers.

Of course, "torpedo" here doesn't mean conventional torpedoes or missiles like those used on Earth. The primary armament of a torpedo squadron is a large-scale annihilation bomb, containing confined antimatter. A direct hit from such a weapon can destroy a ship's hull outright, rendering even large vessels with hulls vulnerable to a single strike. That said, hitting directly isn't exactly easy.

Needless to say, annihilation rounds are effective against planets as well. A planet the size of Earth, with no defenses, would see its surface life—save for certain specialized microbes—wiped out by a single large annihilation round mounted on a destroyer. Well then, I suppose we’ll dock with the cruiser as planned.”

A person who speaks of such horrors with such casual ease.

The spherical light cruiser—whatever it is—measures about seven hundred and twenty meters in diameter. As it draws near, its sheer scale becomes overwhelming. Skytree is roughly six hundred and thirty meters tall. This isn’t some slender pole; it’s a perfect sphere. Massive. Judging from the way she speaks, this light cruiser isn’t a large vessel. Just how big are large vessels, anyway? And that red disc—some sort of hyperlane gate, apparently—has a diameter of three kilometers.

A sphere, 720 meters in diameter, loomed ahead—its equator split open by a slit. Closing in at what felt like a collision course. Whoa! Honestly, I nearly panicked. The shuttle dove into the slit.

Inside, apparently, was a landing deck. Quite spacious. Around thirty meters high, maybe. Dozens of disc-shaped spacecraft, slightly larger than the shuttle they were riding, were parked in neat rows. As the shuttle settled, a boarding bridge—just like the kind seen at orbital airfields—extended outward, stopping short of actually connecting to the shuttle’s hull.

“Please, this way,”

The view wavered, and there he stood—inside the boarding bridge. It was unnecessary, technically speaking; short-range transference allowed direct access to the shuttle, but tradition dictated its use. In cases where the shuttle’s transfer array malfunctioned, the bridge could be used to force entry, enabling rapid emergency response. Additionally, quarantine procedures were conducted while walking the bridge, preventing the intrusion of unexpected microorganisms—so they said.

Following behind Ain, they moved through the cruiser’s interior.

Lighting embedded in the corridor floor flowed sequentially from beneath their feet forward, indicating direction. As they approached what seemed to be a dead end, the wall—apparently a door—opened silently. After walking for a while and passing through several such doors, they emerged into a space resembling an elevator lobby. It was, in fact, an elevator lobby, and they stepped inside without waiting. No crew members had been encountered so far.

As always, no sensation of acceleration or deceleration. Stepping out of the silent-opened elevator door, they found themselves in the cruiser’s heart—its central command chamber.

In front and to both sides, instead of walls, there were views of outer space. Likely giant screens projecting the external scenery.

Ain, who had been walking ahead, stepped back a single pace.

“Welcome to S2-class cruiser LC-0001,”

A handsome man stood there. Beside him, a slender woman. Three people on each side, each holding a gun aloft—security personnel? A marine unit, perhaps, if this is a ship.

“Captain of the LC-0001, Kabra Hyannante.”

The handsome man looked unmistakably Japanese—mid-thirties, perhaps. His black bodysuit collar was stiff, resembling a stand-up collar, with two silver buttons aligned on one side—likely an insignia of rank. No hat, just a sporty haircut. Later, it would be explained: helmets were worn, but hats weren’t. Some starship captains did wear them, but inside a vessel, there was no need for sun protection, and wearing a hat meant sweat would trap heat, leading to premature baldness.

“Pleased to meet you—Yamada.”

"Second Officer Arthur Nabaito, at your service."

Another beautiful woman with a distinctly Japanese appearance. Appears to be in her mid-twenties. One silver button. Again, looks like a rank insignia. Upon closer inspection, the collar is edged in black, made from a different fabric. The captain has black hair, but this one is a light chestnut, and also cut very short.

"Yamada. Pleased to meet you."

Their black bodysuits, upon closer examination, are actually a deep navy—nearly black—and treated to prevent sheen, revealing a pattern reminiscent of fish scales. At this moment, the two security guards lowered their rifles, holding the slender side up and the thick side down onto the floor.

“This chamber is the ship’s central command center. Most internal operations can be conducted here. Please, take a seat at the squadron command chair. A seat is provided by convention—though typically, no commander is assigned to a torpedo squadron. As such, I am currently兼任ing the role of squadron commander, as the ship’s captain.

For the brief time until the Agirakana arrives, please make yourself comfortable.”

From a level lower than where we stand, operators clad in form-fitting, dark bodysuits rise from their chairs and look toward us. Each raises a clenched fist to the left shoulder—saluting, perhaps. Hii-fu-mii… ten people in total, five on each side.

I return the gesture, raising my right fist to my left shoulder, and everyone settles back into their seats.

I take my seat in the squadron command chair, elevated slightly above the others, as instructed. Ain stands to my left.

The captain takes her seat in the position a moment ago. The first officer and the security personnel have exited the room. The first officer is said to have a station in the secondary command center. The security personnel will probably be patrolling the vicinity. Details are unclear.

“Hyperlane gate fully operational! No escort vessels detected.”

“Entering hyperlane gate. Squadron launching!”

“Undocking beam disengaged! Squadron, launch!”

“Undocking beam disengaged! Squadron, forward at minimum velocity!”

“Entering hyperlane gate: thirty seconds remaining… twenty-nine, twenty-eight… three, two, entering hyperlane gate.”

The hyperlane gate, faintly crimson and spilling beyond the forward screen, vanished the moment the word “entry” was spoken. Jupiter, reflected on the wall to the right, disappeared as well. Had the other stars changed? That was a subtle matter.

The stars themselves seemed scarcely altered. Likely, the fleet emerged from the gate facing the same direction as before entering.

“All ships have successfully passed through the hyperlane gate.”

“Squadron, all ships normal.”

“Squadron will now proceed toward Agirakana First Spaceport. Accelerate to squadron cruising speed. Course: Agirakana First Spaceport!”

“Accelerate to squadron cruising speed. Course: Agirakana First Spaceport!”

The captain turned back toward me,

"Arriving at Agirakana First Spaceport’s First Dock in approximately two hours. The First Dock at Agirakana First Spaceport is designated exclusively for the Agirakana fleet commander—no vessel has ever docked there before. This will be our first time!"

The commander seems, from a distance, genuinely pleased—almost giddy with anticipation.

Apparently, the Agirakana commander holds a unique position, with special privileges. Well, given that the Agirakana is a vessel the size of a planet, one might expect as much.

Still, with privilege comes obligation? And then there’s the matter of where exactly this Agirakana is supposed to end up—assuming it’s even going to end up anywhere at all. In the old days, battleships would sink with their crews, but that kind of dramatic finality… well, probably not applicable here.

Now that I think about it, why does everyone speak Japanese anyway? I asked Ain about it later, and apparently they’d all installed Japanese just for me. Even the units were converted to Japanese standards. The time’s synchronized with Japan’s Akashi Standard Time, apparently, and there’s no issue at all. For concepts that don’t exist on Earth, they just made up words on the fly—but Japanese, they say, is simple and convenient that way. Lucky I’m Japanese.

This work updates slowly, so if you’re bored, feel free to pass the time with

Aoi Horiguchi’s short story series

https://ncode.syosetu.com/s3330f/ Please do check it out.