The Villainess Takes the Cockpit

"...One hundred thousand credits?"

Syn-Fibra's offices in the Seldia Administration Bureau. Letaria Adeniam found herself covering her mouth at the number hovering on the holographic display.

Several times what a standard freelance mission paid. And it would come from a few hours of "shooting."

"That's right. The company's upper management wants to showcase Syn-Fibra's technical capabilities, and they'd like to use a 'young, beautiful, enigmatic freelancer who pilots a special-class machine' to do it."

Milea Ichinose took a sip of coffee with a mildly sour expression.

The coffee wasn't the problem.

Her actual feelings ran in the opposite direction entirely. The reason Letaria had been kept in the ambiguous position of freelancer was precisely to keep her at a distance from military and political interference. The more visible she became, the more the intelligence services and military recruiters would circle.

"...Milea. You're making a rather frightening face. Surely one hundred thousand credits would cover Makina spare parts, and also a lifetime supply of those wonderful sweets Steshia-san introduced me to?"

"It wouldn't. A lifetime supply of sweets that expensive would give you diabetes."

Milea set her cup down and leaned forward, fixing Letaria with a direct look.

"Listen, Letaria. Don't say anything unnecessary to the crew. Understood?"

"I know, I know. You do worry so. Once they see my perfect ladylike bearing, they'll be too overawed to ask anything further!"

(That is precisely what worries me...)

Milea pressed a hand to her forehead.

◆

The shoot took place at one of Seldia's largest all-environment training centers.

When the assembled crew saw Letaria walk in, a hush moved through all of them at once.

"...You're serious. I thought it was some kind of costume thing, but..."

"That posture, that walk. Is this CG?"

Standing in the light of the camera rigs, Letaria wore a custom pilot suit--produced to her personal specifications, incorporating frills and ribbons at every conceivable point, bearing little resemblance to anything intended for actual combat--and took her position in front of the promotional display Makina, model Rude.

"...The lights are rather bright."

At first, presented with an array of camera lenses, she had been faintly flushed, fidgeting with the reflexive habit of a fan she wasn't holding. Then the director called out:

"Magnificent! That look--that 'looking down on everything'! Perfect, Letaria-san! Now--boarding the machine!"

"...Very well. Watch closely."

Letaria ascended the Rude's ramp.

She was not, technically, a naturally nimble person. But a lady's maid had spent years drilling her in the fundamentals of movement and poise, and the results showed--every step was unhurried, precise, effortless.

"...Did you see that? She moves like she's in a film."

"No--that's not performance training. That's been carved in from the bone. That's real."

The crew's excitement climbed.

They didn't know. What they were watching was the baseline deportment of a duke's daughter--a girl educated in a world where the direction of her eyes at a social function was subject to correction, second by second.

"Next--activation demonstration! Trace Mode, on!"

At the director's instruction, Letaria engaged the system.

Rude came to life--quietly, but with unmistakable power--drive tone rising as it rose to its feet. Letaria moved her arm. The machine's arm followed.

"Ohoho! You see? Even a mass of iron moves with elegance when I am the one guiding it!"

The staff at the monitors were practically vibrating.

"The Trace Mode capability was real--"

"This is excellent promotional material. Demonstrating this level of control will appeal far beyond the military market--"

Letaria, now entirely in her element, took every direction the crew threw at her.

The initial flush of self-consciousness had vanished completely. She was winking at the cameras.

◆

A small group watched from the observation area off to one side.

"...Wow. Letaria-san really does look like a princess."

Steshia clapped with shining eyes.

"She's going to be famous. I should get an autograph now, while I still can. Might be worth something someday."

Merry laughed, only half-joking.

"...I'd be happier if she weren't quite this visible."

Ethan frowned and looked to Grain, who was standing beside him with his arms crossed.

"Grain. That girl is getting more and more exposed. Administration Bureau is watching closely."

"...I know."

Grain's expression was set. So was Milea's, beside him.

Every time Letaria struck another artless pose for the cameras, both of them felt the same thing: the knowledge that what the cameras were capturing was being translated, somewhere, into military assessment.

"Milea--once that footage goes into the Alliance's promotional channels, there will be factions moving to identify her. That gets beyond our ability to manage."

"I know. I'll submit falsified output data to upper management--list the machine's performance as a promotional-use special configuration. ...And I need to start building new walls. Keep the interference away from her."

At that moment, the promotional division director from Syn-Fibra came over with a very satisfied expression.

"Ichinose-hakase! Extraordinary! She's perfect! We'd love to discuss an exclusive contract--Syn-Fibra's primary promotional face, going forward--"

Milea's smile arrived before he finished the sentence. Polished. Cool.

"I'm afraid not. She is a freelance cooperator--a private individual who places a great deal of value on her privacy. Today was a special arrangement. ...I'm sure you understand."

The phrasing had something of Letaria's register in it--impeccably courteous and entirely immovable.

The director tried again: "Surely we could find a way to--"

"If there are future opportunities, please bring them through me first. As she is cooperating with this branch on a personal basis, there are certain considerations involved..."

"...Ah--of course, of course. In that case, we look forward to any future occasion..."

The promotional division retreated.

Letaria came striding back, flushed with success.

"Milea! Did you see?! My perfect performance?! Several of the crew were moved to tears by the end, I'll have you know!"

"Yes, yes. Well done. ...Don't get too pleased with yourself."

Milea placed a hand briefly on Letaria's head.

Letaria puffed up with mild indignation--then spotted Steshia and Merry waving broadly from across the room, and immediately broke into her full laugh and ran toward them.

"Ohohohoho--!"

"...That girl, honestly."

Milea shook her head with a sigh that wasn't quite exasperated.

"...She looks happy, though. I think that counts for something."

Grain let the corner of his mouth rise, just slightly.

The sense of a storm coming was real. He could feel it.

But not yet.

For now--the girl laughing in the lights was someone worth protecting.