BATTLE FOR STARS

Pierre's residence wasn't located in the most luxurious floating districts, but it was still situated in a scenic, sparsely populated Natural Scenic Zone.

More specifically, it was in the mountain sector—an area considered premium housing.

After all, the Hill Empire had an enormous population.

Many planets housed hundreds of millions, even billions, of residents.

As a result, countless people were crowded into small standardized apartments assigned by the state, waiting until they earned enough money to purchase something more comfortable.

Even many soldiers lived that way, though military housing tended to be larger and more convenient.

The Hill Empire didn't particularly encourage private business.

It was, first and foremost, a military empire.

Its banking sector was relatively weak as well.

Yet the volume of trade—both domestic and international—remained enormous.

As a result, numerous trading corporations still existed.

To fund expansion or raise capital, major companies issued financial certificates.

Of course, not just any company could do so.

Only large corporations approved by the government qualified.

Most of the underlying business involved international trade, which meant profits were generally reliable.

More importantly, these certificates weren't available to everyone.

There was a minimum qualification threshold.

Being able to purchase financial certificates was itself proof that someone possessed substantial wealth.

In other words, it marked a person as rich.

Like most citizens of the Hill Empire, Pierre had never developed the habit of saving money.

In the past, that was because he earned too little.

Whatever he made was spent almost immediately.

Now, he had a different reason.

As a fighter pilot, there was no guarantee he'd still be alive tomorrow.

If anything, that made him even more willing to spend.

Naturally, he'd sent a considerable amount of money home as well.

But apart from his parents, he rarely supported his siblings.

The reason was simple.

Most of them were either decades—or even centuries—older than him.

The younger ones were often decades younger.

Very few of them had actually grown up together.

There was little emotional attachment.

And without that connection, Pierre saw no reason to spend money on them.

The financial certificates were effectively his only savings.

Although losses were extremely rare, official propaganda still classified them as investments.

And investment implied risk.

Of course, in the Hill Empire, those allowed to participate in such risks were generally not ordinary citizens.

At the very least, they were wealthy enough to absorb potential losses.

"And when do I get to stay at your place for a few days?" Evonie asked openly.

She never felt the need to be shy around Pierre.

The chance to experience a rich person's lifestyle was something she genuinely looked forward to.

"No problem. Once we're off deployment, you can come with me."

Pierre agreed immediately.

He rarely turned down women who showed interest.

In fact, during this most recent leave alone, he'd invited several women home simply by virtue of wearing his Four-Elephant Junior Officer uniform.

In the Hill Empire, officers—especially high-ranking ones—were admired and desired by many women.

Pierre gave the female messenger's backside a firm squeeze.

The tight undergarments beneath her Imperial Army uniform prevented his hand from wandering any further, forcing him to settle for teasing through the fabric.

"Come to my room tonight," he said with a suggestive smile. "It's been a while since we've caught up."

Elephant-rank officers were entitled to private quarters.

"Mhm."

To Pierre's surprise, Evonie actually blushed.

She knew perfectly well what he meant by "catching up."

Still, Pierre was known for being generous.

Every time they spent time together, he always gave her plenty of "financial assistance."

To be fair, the Imperial military didn't oppose relationships between male and female personnel.

Human nature was what it was.

This was especially true for soldiers deployed far from home for extended periods.

Attempting to suppress such desires completely would only create problems.

Some starships even carried a limited number of humanoid companion units to help personnel relieve stress.

Unfortunately, compared to the highly advanced androids produced by the Kramic Kingdom, the Empire's models felt noticeably artificial.

Their appearances were less convincing.

Their intelligence was less sophisticated.

And their intimate interaction programs offered barely a dozen preset modes.

As a result, many soldiers still preferred the company of real people.

Neither Pierre nor Evonie saw any reason to be embarrassed about it.

Naturally, such relationships were only acceptable when both parties consented.

Coercion was treated very seriously.

Any verified case could result in severe punishment.

Minor offenses led to disciplinary action.

Serious ones ended in military court.

Both Pierre and Evonie looked forward to their evening together.

What neither expected was that circumstances would separate them long before nightfall.

After escorting Pierre to the captain's office, Evonie departed.

Pierre entered alone.

"Reporting, Captain!"

The moment he stepped through the door, he snapped a salute.

The carrier's captain was a tall, middle-aged man who appeared to be in his forties.

He wore the standard military buzz cut.

Combined with his lean, weathered face, he looked every bit like a veteran hardened by more than a century of warfare.

A small mustache sat beneath his nose.

It was remarkably noticeable.

Many people claimed such mustaches were the trademark of members of Samert, the Empire's secret police organization.

Pierre was convinced that rumor couldn't possibly be true.

If they were secret police, why would they wear an obvious identifying mark?

Originally, "Samert" had referred to the descendants of the Children of God.

But after centuries of war and the loss of countless birth records, the term had gradually come to mean the Empire's indigenous population.

Despite the Hill Empire's population exceeding one hundred billion, genuinely pure-blooded natives were actually quite rare.

Generations of warfare had resulted in the conquest of numerous territories belonging to the Confederation.

Trade had further encouraged intermarriage.

Over the centuries, bloodlines had become heavily mixed.

To qualify as a true Samert, every branch of one's ancestry had to remain free of foreign blood.

That standard eliminated most citizens.

Joining the secret police required one essential qualification above all else:

Pure Samert ancestry.

Over time, "Samert" became synonymous with the Empire's Intelligence and Special Operations Bureau.

The organization had originally served as the Emperor's personal guard.

Later, it was expanded by General Sim, the Empire's second most powerful figure.

Its mission was to monitor and eliminate anything considered harmful to the Empire.

Rumors claimed Samert maintained hundreds of thousands of full-time and part-time agents embedded throughout every profession and industry.

Its special operations teams were even said to possess the authority to act first and justify their actions later.

Pierre himself was a pure-blooded Samert.

He had never been given the opportunity to join the organization, but that did nothing to diminish his admiration for it.

To him, Samert represented mystery, authority, and unquestioned power.

The identities of its members were closely guarded secrets.

Which was exactly why Pierre privately suspected that the man standing before him—the captain—might very well be one of them.

Captain Brick smiled as he looked at his ace pilot.

"How was your leave? Enjoy yourself?"

"Reporting, Captain—very much so!"

Pierre answered loudly.

"Good."

The captain nodded.

"Once this campaign is over, it may be time for you to move into a position like mine."

Pierre's heart skipped a beat.

That single statement confirmed what everyone had been whispering.

A new round of major military operations was about to begin.