14. Captain's Private Residence

Having become the captain of Agirakana, there was no pressing work to attend to. I passed the time idly—surfing the net on the monitor and mouse affixed to the captain's desk, reading web novels. Very idle indeed.

Also, I was told to stop using the honorific "-san" when addressing people. I suppose that makes sense. I’ve seen movies and books where captains address subordinates as "you" (kimi), but never as "san." I accept this. Only Maria is exempt—she’s not a soldier but a civilian, so she still gets the "-san."

Once, Maria came by. I was instructed to place my hand on the scanner atop the desk and give verbal commands to unlock Agirakana’s restrictions. I did as told.

“Authorized as direct command authority over the core. Proceed with orders.”

Maria stood before him, yet the same voice came from the desk.

"Relinquishing Agirakana's combat restrictions." "Without detailed instructions, lifting all combat restrictions."

These orders may be rescinded or amended by the individual authorized to issue direct commands to the Core.

"Relief of activity and combat restrictions for Agirakana-affiliated bio-noids." "Activity and combat restrictions for bio-noids are lifted. Exception: the prohibition on combat actions against the captain remains in effect."

These orders may be rescinded or altered by the designated authority with direct command privileges over the Core, except as otherwise specified.

Thank you

You're welcome.

Maria answered, standing before him. So this was how Agirakana had become a warship. Whether that was a good thing or not remained unclear—but if everyone aboard wished it, it must surely be a good thing. After all, telling a boxer to restrain their hands and guard only, without striking back, would hardly be sufficient. Agirakana was, in a way, in the same state as some nation or other.

While idly browsing the network at the desk, I passed the time—when Ain arrived next. He was already wearing the uniform, its collar edged in red.

“Captain, if you’re free, would you care to inspect the Outer First Layer? They say the First Layer has advanced terraforming and displays a splendid natural landscape.”

“That sounds pleasant. Let’s go right away. Is this attire acceptable?”

“The captain’s uniform is perfectly suitable. However, a more casual outfit would also be acceptable. You’re welcome to change into something more relaxed.”

"Then, excuse me while I change."

"Then, we from the Secretary's Office will accompany you as well. We kindly ask for your cooperation."

When I returned to the Office in my casual clothes, Ain and the other three, along with the entire Secretary's Office staff, were waiting for me. All four wore uniforms, yet each carried something resembling a backpack—or perhaps a basket. Something mysterious, but undoubtedly necessary.

Ain led me to the Transfer Room. We all fit within the marked area on the floor, and we were transferred to the First Layer in one go.

The First Layer, seen for the first time, looked like a forest on Earth. Above, the sky peeked through gaps in the trees—blue, naturally. The sun was invisible, of course, but the sky glowed white across a wide expanse. It must be illuminated from below, as if the ground itself were the sun.

The air carries a slight dampness, yet the breeze is pleasant. It almost tastes good. Looking down, I notice a circular pattern drawn on what appears to be a square pedestal—this place, too, must be a transfer point.

“Captain, let’s head toward a more open area.”

Ain steps forward, forming a loose quadrilateral around me, and we begin ascending the gentle slope of the forest. After a while, the trees give way to grassland, and as we press on, the view suddenly opens up.

This must be the top of a hill. From here, the forest stretches to the horizon, dotted with lakes and bordered by a river nearby. Is this really inside a spaceship? Cotton-like clouds drift slowly overhead, and far off, faint white pillars rise upward, almost imperceptibly.

“Nice spot,” I breathe deeply, drawing in the air.

Then, the clerks from the secretary office began unfolding a sheet from the basket they’d brought.

“Captain, shall we have lunch a bit early?”

“Wait—is the contents of that basket lunchboxes?”

“Yes. We prepared them this morning using recipes we looked up online. It’s our first time attempting this kind of thing, but the results are quite decent, wouldn’t you say? Please, don’t hesitate to eat.”

“Ah, then let’s dig in.”

Each of them pulled out their lunchboxes and thermoses from the basket, arranging them neatly on the sheet.

Rice balls wrapped in seaweed, tamagoyaki, octopus-shaped sausages, crispy fried chicken, kinpira gobo—

“Absolutely delicious. The salt level in the rice balls is perfect. You said this was your first time, but it’s on par with a professional’s work. Impressive.”

"We’re truly delighted you’re enjoying them. As for the parts of the recipe that aren’t clear online, we’ve had our驻在員 on Earth look into it—so it should be perfectly accurate."

That was going too far.

As we chatted like that, basking in the warm sunlight and the pleasant breeze, eating our lunch in cheerful camaraderie, a slight drowsiness began to creep in.

"Man, it’d be nice if there was a house right here, somewhere like this."

"If the captain says so, shall we build the captain’s Private Residence here? Earth-style house plans are easy to come by—completion would be swift. We could just make it, and if there’s anything you don’t like, or anything you notice later, we can keep improving it."

That might be true—but isn’t it a bit excessive, having a proper place to live right on the ship already?

Ain, and the other three from the Secretariat Office, seemed to be studying various aspects of Japanese culture online, and now they were offering their opinions on my Private Residence.

“The bath should be indoors, but let’s also include an open-air bath, like a hot spring. A jacuzzi and sauna would be nice too, don’t you think?”

“Should we build a training room? Let’s import the main equipment found in Japanese fitness gyms.”

“A sunroom would be lovely. Growing all kinds of flowers in a greenhouse—it’s a dream. Of course, let’s make the garden spacious and add flower beds.”

“No, no—wouldn’t a traditional Japanese garden be better? We could build a pond and release fish into it.”

“Then a pool wouldn’t be out of the question either. Slides would be fun, wouldn’t they?”

“We absolutely need a tatami room. The tatami mats will be imported, of course.”

They’d clearly looked it up online—most of it sounded like the kind of conversation you’d hear between Japanese women in their twenties or thirties.

The conversation kept growing larger and larger.

While the four of them debated back and forth—this way, no, that way, no— I lay sprawled on the seat, gazing at the clouds drifting across the blue sky.

Apparently, the four of them had settled on building the Captain’s Private Residence. When I asked whether someone needed to give permission, I was told only the Captain’s approval was required. A terrifying thought, but apparently everything I say or do is recorded—whether verbal or otherwise—and anything the core deems non-violative of the Agirakana Charter and feasible will be executed as a command.

Well, if they’re capable of building a house inside a planet-sized spaceship, they can probably handle this.

Laid-back, as usual. Starting next chapter, work begins again on Earth.