BATTLE FOR STARS

As for having children, Pierre wasn't in a hurry.

Still, after so many years, not a single woman had been willing to have a child with him. That had dealt a considerable blow to his pride.

Fortunately, everything changed three years ago.

Pierre hadn't been in the military long, but he'd chosen the right branch.

The pay was excellent.

Promotions came quickly.

And luck had certainly been on his side.

Over the past two years, he'd participated in several battles without being killed—or even wounded.

As a result, he had already risen to the rank of Four-Elephant Junior Officer.

One more promotion and he'd become a Bear-rank Field Officer, a rank typically held by positions equivalent to an executive officer aboard a starship.

People reacted to war differently.

Some feared it.

Some enjoyed it.

Some found it exhilarating.

For Pierre, war had completely transformed his life.

He no longer had to endure the dull existence of driving transport vehicles all day.

More importantly, for the first time in his life, he felt like he'd truly become somebody.

After all, he was now one of the ace pilots of the Eighth Fleet.

He commanded dozens of fighter pilots aboard a carrier.

Wherever he went, people noticed him.

His brief leave had just ended, and he had returned to his carrier to begin yet another campaign.

"Hey, Pierre! How was your vacation? Was the beauty the government assigned you any good?"

After passing through a thorough inspection that removed all unauthorized equipment—including communication devices—Pierre had barely stepped back aboard the carrier when a familiar sergeant nicknamed Ergou greeted him with a grin.

"Yeah. It was pretty good."

A satisfied smile appeared on Pierre's face.

Following the previous campaign, the Empire had captured a heavily populated planet belonging to the Duir Republic.

Under the revised military merit system, Pierre had been granted permission to select one "prisoner" to serve as his personal servant as part of their so-called ideological reeducation.

Because he was a decorated officer—and a fighter pilot—he received his opportunity after the fleet's senior officers had made their selections.

Pierre had chosen a beautiful and capable woman.

She cooked for him.

Prepared his meals.

Managed household chores.

And generally took care of his daily needs.

The past month had been extraordinarily comfortable.

Never in his life had anyone served him so attentively.

Of course, the servant dared not resist.

All such prisoners wore restraint collars similar in concept to the Resk Empire's psychic-wave control devices.

The Hill Empire, however, called theirs Punishment Wave Collars.

The two systems differed in design.

One was implanted in the head.

The other was worn around the neck.

But their purpose was essentially the same.

They ensured complete control over the wearer.

The collar offered an additional advantage as well.

Anyone wearing one was immediately identifiable as a foreign prisoner.

There was no hiding it.

Some people might ask what was so frightening about a Punishment Wave Collar.

Anyone who had never experienced one could dismiss it easily.

Those who had endured it knew better.

When activated, it felt as though countless needles were piercing every inch of the body.

The pain intensified with each successive pulse.

Victims could do little except collapse to the ground and writhe in agony.

Even the strongest-willed individuals eventually broke under prolonged exposure.

Over time, the most rebellious person could be reduced to a docile pet.

The crew around Pierre bombarded him with questions.

The practice of assigning "Reeducation Subjects"—the official term—had only been introduced a few years earlier.

Only soldiers with distinguished records qualified.

For most servicemen, it remained a fascinating novelty.

Pierre brushed off their questions with vague answers.

The real benefits of the arrangement weren't something he intended to discuss openly.

He understood human nature well enough.

Talking too much about such privileges was a good way to make people jealous.

The crowd, however, wasn't satisfied by his evasive responses.

Several soldiers continued surrounding him until a female messenger forced her way through.

"Four-Elephant Junior Officer Pierre. The captain requests your presence."

The female messenger maintained a serious expression, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice.

In an era of highly automated information systems, messenger soldiers were technically unnecessary.

Even routine meetings could be conducted through holographic communication.

Yet the military still retained the role.

Partly for security reasons.

Any information transmitted through networks could potentially be intercepted or cracked.

But the more important reason was tradition.

After all, which felt more significant?

Receiving a notification from your Personal AI Assistant?

Or having an actual messenger deliver the captain's summons in person?

Most people preferred the latter.

In truth, Pierre had already received the captain's order earlier.

There was still plenty of time before he was required to report, so he hadn't rushed over.

The fact that the captain had sent a messenger anyway suggested something important was happening.

Sure enough, the messenger's arrival immediately shifted everyone's attention.

"Looks like a major operation is coming."

"Definitely. Look around. Even people whose leave wasn't over yet have been recalled."

"No kidding. Look outside. The Sixth Fleet has arrived too. This is a joint operation."

"We haven't seen anything this large before."

"Good. Time to earn some military merit. Let's hope we're hitting a wealthy Confederation world."

"Oh, come on. How many wealthy worlds are left on the border? I've heard most Confederation civilians have already migrated deeper into their territory."

The soldiers continued arguing among themselves.

The atmosphere of an approaching major war was unmistakable.

Pierre and the messenger boarded a two-person Marble Car bound for the captain's quarters.

Like the Confederation's Bullet Cars, Marble Cars were internal transportation vehicles used aboard starships.

The difference was their shape.

Bullet Cars resembled bullets.

Marble Cars were perfectly spherical.

They traveled through enclosed tube-like routes, meaning passengers rarely saw anyone during the journey.

Nor could anyone observe them.

The vehicle featured two seats arranged front and back.

However, after traveling only a short distance, the messenger suddenly climbed out of the front seat and squeezed into the rear compartment beside Pierre.

"Pierre, did you miss me?"

The beautiful messenger, Evonie, immediately abandoned her formal demeanor and revealed a flirtatious smile.

"Of course I did."

Pierre's hands were already wandering as he grinned at her.

"Then why didn't you contact me during your leave?"

"What? Were you on leave too?" Pierre asked, pretending not to know.

"Of course I was. I sent you messages."

"And you never replied."

"I must've missed them."

"Who are you trying to fool?" Evonie immediately exposed the lie. "I sent so many messages. You're telling me you didn't see a single one?"

Pierre sighed dramatically.

"Fine. The truth is I barely had time to check them. You know the government gave me a pretty substantial bonus. I've been busy setting up some investments."

"Investments?"

Evonie's eyes instantly lit up.

"I moved to a new place. Out in the suburbs now. Bought new furniture, a new flier, and even put in a swimming pool."

With his military bonuses and newly elevated status, Pierre had decided it was time for a larger home.

"A swimming pool? Then it's a villa?" Evonie asked in surprise. "One of the floating ones?"

"No. It's in the mountain district of the Natural Scenic Zone."

Pierre sounded rather pleased with himself.

"I also bought some financial certificates from Anmei Corporation. You know me—I don't understand business. This seemed like the safest option."