16. Diplomatic Talks with Japan 2: Return

Thank you for the typo report.

Three days after discussing the establishment of diplomatic relations between Ain and the State of Japan. A message arrived from Major General Eris, Commander of the Ground Assault Division—apparently, the H3-class assault landing ship was ready.

I stepped off the shuttle connecting the Core Interior to the First Spaceport, accompanied by Ain and the four members of the Secretary's Office, and began walking toward the first dock reserved for the Agirakana captain. The liaison shuttle had already landed there.

A landing craft from the H3-class assault landing vessel AA-0001, waiting in orbit. The craft’s hatch is wide open, facing us. Four soldiers—uniformed, presumably—stand in neat rows on either side, saluting in the customary fashion. The members of the Secretary's Office have set down their large packages and are returning the salute, so I mimic them, making a fist with my right hand and pressing it to the left shoulder, as per protocol. Does that look right, though?

The last shuttle I rode on Earth had no visible door, but apparently this model, designed for rapid troop deployment, features access hatches on both port and starboard sides. Inside, sixteen large seats were arranged in two rows of eight. According to Ain’s explanation, the seats were oversized to accommodate combat armor without requiring removal, and during operations, they would face each other for rapid egress. Currently, they were aligned forward—my seat, the very first one, had been assigned to me.

When I asked Ain, seated beside me, whether it wouldn’t be simpler to just beam straight from the dock onto the ship via the transfer apparatus, the admiral said we’d have to board through the liaison craft. I thought, well, yes—suddenly appearing from behind would certainly startle the crew, so it made sense. Oddly, I found myself nodding in agreement with the idea that this was just how things were, everywhere.

As soon as we took our seats, the liaison craft seemed to depart. We were ascending through some massive shaft, though there were no windows in the craft, so we couldn’t tell what was outside, nor did we feel any acceleration—there was no way to gauge our condition. All we had was Ain’s commentary.

After about five minutes, the door on the left slid open. The soldiers seated behind us immediately dashed out and formed two lines, waiting for the rest of us to disembark from the shuttle. I rose from my seat a moment later and stepped through the doorway into what resembled a modest airfield—shuttles of the same design as the one we’d arrived in, larger ones, smaller ones, all neatly arranged. Besides the eight迎接 personnel standing on either side of the door, ten or so soldiers in dull silver armor lined up ahead, slightly farther away, flanking three figures in the familiar dark military uniforms.

As we stepped out of the craft and began moving forward, the three figures ahead approached us and saluted—exactly as before. I returned the salute.

"Commander-in-Chief of the Space Fleet, welcome aboard the H3-class assault landing vessel AA-0001. I am Captain Bruece Tarymte, in command of this vessel."

Tall, the captain. The captain of the cruiser LC-0001 had been good-looking too, but this one is good-looking as well—some kind of standard, some rule of aesthetics, is there?

AA-0001, LC-0001—how dull. Maybe come up with a better name later, once we’ve got time.

"Likewise, I’m grateful for your hospitality."

"First Officer Martha Eginnante."

A woman in her thirties, medium build, dark short hair. No long hair in zero-gravity zones—would be a nightmare, quite literally.

"Ground Combat Commander Camden Nabayte. Pleasure to meet you."

As expected of a ground force commander—broad-shouldered, imposing.

"Then, as we walk, let’s discuss the AA-0001 en route to the central command deck."

The captain, Bruece, explains as they move.

This vessel is an H3-class assault landing ship shaped like a regular hexagonal prism, three hundred and sixty meters on each side and three thousand six hundred meters in length.

It can carry one full infantry battalion plus Alpha, totaling three thousand six hundred ground troops. Currently, however, one company is missing from the battalion, leaving three companies—two thousand four hundred infantrymen—aboard. Additionally, up to twelve unmanned support units accompany each individual infantryman.

The attack craft aboard this vessel number four hundred and eighty. Of these, four hundred and twenty are capable of atmospheric operations, sixty of which are additionally capable of underwater missions. Since the carrier aircraft are at full capacity, they carry an additional forty-eight reserve craft—ten percent of the total. Depending on the mission, up to six unmanned support craft accompany each attack craft. In addition, ninety mobile armored units equipped with supplementary unmanned combat systems for ground operations are carried. Furthermore, for support purposes—…

"...The 0001 Torpedo Squadron, flagshiped by the S2-class cruiser LC-0001 of the Aerospace Fleet, will accompany us as escort. They will generally not participate in planetary subjugation operations, confining their duties to guarding our vessel."

I'm not going to conquer Earth, so are you sure it's okay? Don't tell me I'll end up being Earth's Emperor without even realizing it.

I don’t expect enemies on the route, but the S2-class cruiser LC-0001— which previously carried me all the way to Agirakana— is apparently leading a torpedo squadron to escort us. Still, isn’t a four-digit squadron number a bit excessive?

Walking down the corridor while receiving explanations, they eventually emerged into a wider passage—more like a plaza. There, soldiers in uniform stood in neat rows, lined up in perfect formation.

"Since my subordinates insist on seeing you in person, the entire force of three infantry battalions—two thousand four hundred personnel—stands at attention."

Captain Camden of the Camden Ground Force explained it.

The ceremony passed without much sense of it, carried along as it was—yet something about it felt like it had escalated into something quite serious.

Two thousand four hundred people watched as we arrived at what was called the Central Command Room—a gymnasium repurposed for the occasion. Various patterns floated in the air, dozens of them, like some kind of operational map. When we stepped inside, everyone in the room stood at once and saluted us in unison.

I returned the salute, reluctantly, and they all sat down. A relief, really. I’d have felt worse if they’d stayed standing the whole time—would they have kept it up indefinitely if I hadn’t responded? I suppose one of the Ain group behind me must have noticed and signaled quietly.

After sitting idly for about two hours on the backmost tier of the gymnasium—perhaps two steps up, really—a red ring appeared on the screen directly ahead. It looked like a hyperlane gate. A spherical spacecraft, possibly labeled LC-0001, was being drawn into the faint crimson surface, followed in quick succession by elongated pyramid-shaped vessels, each one swallowed in turn.

"Zero-zero-zero-one Thunderbolt Squadron has cleared the hyperlane gate."

"Our vessel will now follow. Entering the hyperlane gate in twenty seconds—nineteen, eighteen, … hyperlane gate entry."

Just as the pale crimson gate vanished from the main screen, a distinctive planet—Jupiter—came into view to the left.

As if returning to the Sol system.