FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

Since the string of incidents following the landing ceremony, nearly a year had passed.

But our little adventure showed no signs of cooling down; it continued to attract a large crowd of curious listeners. Even though, strictly speaking, we hadn’t contributed much, that didn’t stop the fleet crew members from wanting to hear the first-hand story.

And, to be fair, I’d never truly realized how many people were aboard the Empire’s Heart.

“Alright, alright, I’ll tell it again from the start. It all began with... hic…” José stood unsteadily on one of the square tables in the middle of the mess hall, shouting loudly. He still held a large mug, which some officer had bribed him with, but his slightly tipsy expression made it clear he had already had too much to drink.

“Hey,” I whispered, nudging Ian lightly in the waist with my elbow. “Are you alright?”

Even though the big golden retriever seemed back to his usual self, joking around with us, there were moments when his laughter would suddenly disappear and his expression would turn distant. I suspected that Ian hadn’t really recovered yet.

“I’m fine.” He shook his head and gave me a reassuring smile. “I just need a little more time.”

I nodded in response, fully understanding that sometimes, only time can help us pick ourselves back up again.

In the mess hall, all the pricked-up ears were listening intently as José recounted the story, which always seemed to have slightly different details each time. But clearly, everyone was more focused on the excitement of the tale itself.

If Luther had heard how the courageous coyote had heroically charged into the Praetorian Guards all alone to save him, I’m sure he would’ve found it amusing. Unfortunately, today he had been "called away by duty" again.

Rumors about the special relationship between the Admiral and his orderly had grown louder, and more and more people were piecing together the truth. But so far, most had kept quiet and refrained from expressing their opinions. I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. However, I believed that, no matter what, Luther and the Admiral could handle it.

A burst of laughter erupted from the crowd, followed by generous applause. José awkwardly bowed, teetering on the edge of either falling asleep standing or tumbling off the table.

“Isn’t this our hero?” I teased, mocking the coyote who was slumped in the seat to my right.

“Fox, mind your... your... your own...” Whatever José wanted me to mind, I’d never know. With a loud thud, he faceplanted onto the table. Amid his muttering and snoring, a contented smile occasionally crossed his face.

I noticed that in every version of the story, José always left out his own performance in the courtroom. Maybe it was to maintain some sort of image? Or perhaps, like Ian, he just needed more time.

I touched the bare patch of skin around my neck, where no fur grew, while contemplating.

But in any case, I think we all had the right to feel, at least for a moment, content with this simple, ordinary time.

So, amidst the friendly and slightly drunken conversations around us, we laughed and sincerely responded to every hand that patted our shoulders, and every gesture of support. Each of these simple moments felt like the distant sight we finally reached after enduring untold hardships, crossing mountains and rivers with heavy burdens on our backs.

I glanced out the observation window. In the endless expanse of darkness, there weren’t even many stars. Yet, I could clearly see a red fox looking back at me. He knew full well how to breathe because freedom, like air, was something so familiar.

As usual, I checked the terminal at the workstation, maintaining programs and reviewing data. Ian and José were beside me, playing some kind of tabletop ball game they’d invented using various spare parts.

“Make yourselves useful, will you?” I grumbled, knowing full well they’d just mess things up, but I couldn’t help complaining anyway.

“Eat, my, dick, fox!” José hadn’t heard a word I said and was just trying to show off how crude he could be. So, I couldn’t be bothered to respond, continuing with my tasks.

After a loud clash of metal, the coyote raised his hands in victory, while Ian clicked his tongue in annoyance and scratched his head.

Sometimes, I wondered whether the version of José I saw in court had just been an illusion.

But in any case, I was happy to know that they both seemed to be recovering well.

Watching the coyote and the crossbreed immerse themselves in another round of their game made me feel an urge to rush over and hug them. But I figured I’d probably used up too much of my quota for that in the palace recently. Best not to test their limits any further for now.

I resumed the work I’d left unfinished, unable to stop the smile creeping onto my face.

“Level 1 Red Alert! Level 1 Red Alert!” The mechanical voice blared through the speakers, and the cabin was suddenly illuminated by flashing red lights.

Before I could even look away from the terminal, a violent jolt knocked me to the ground.

“Level 1 Red Alert! Omega-class Phantom!” The broadcast repeated, the piercing sound stabbing at my eardrums.

“Have we ever had a Level 1 Red Alert situation before?” I asked as I clumsily got to my feet.

“No.” Ian helped the still-seated coyote to his feet. “We haven’t even encountered an Alpha-class Phantom in... well, in all of Imperial history.”

“Attention, all crew: evacuate the following zones!” The Admiral’s voice came over the terminals, showing the detailed evacuation orders and restricted areas. “If you are in one of these zones, evacuate immediately and avoid any confrontation! Luther will assist with the evacuation, and I repeat, do not attempt to support him! Those outside the affected zones, stay clear of them!”

A few explosions echoed, followed by a string of static noises from the terminal. It didn’t sound very reassuring.

“This seems...” José glanced between the two of us, his expression a bit nervous, his tail tucked between his legs. “...pretty bad.”

I had to agree with José— the Admiral had never sounded so panicked before. That lean white wolf wasn’t good at hiding his emotions, but I thought that sincerity was one of his strengths as a leader, though I knew many would disagree.

“The Admiral will handle it,” Ian said, checking the terminal. “We’re in an evacuation zone. We should move immediately.”

I couldn’t see any reason to object, so I followed the crossbreed out of the cabin and into the corridor.

The order was to prioritize evacuation, just like every time Empire’s Heart encountered the Phantom. So instead of looking for weapons, we followed the shortest path out of the evacuation zone, making sure no one was left behind. Because of this, basically no one in the entire fleet had ever seen what the Phantom actually looked like.

Ian once said that Empire’s Heart was the only fleet that did this. Other House’s crews, if they were unlucky enough, had to fight that thing.

I’ve heard rumors that the Phantom is some kind of bizarre machine, killing in ways we can’t comprehend, highly efficient and dangerous—a terrifying enemy.

But those who have truly encountered the Phantom, in their occasional moments of breaking their usual silence, would deny that it’s that kind of thing.

Either way, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know what the Phantom really is.

However, my opinion probably doesn’t matter much.

I never considered myself a soldier. Every battle I’ve been part of involved long-range button-pushing at the ship level. But that doesn’t mean I haven’t experienced those life-and-death moments. Still, I never expected that I would freeze in a situation like this.

Perhaps it was that indescribable form that triggered some kind of physiological reaction.

Its shell, flickering with countless red dots, looked like some monster from the deepest depths of a nightmare. When that twisted shape lunged at me, its tendrils waving with sharp claws, I felt as if I had been paralyzed, unable to move.

It was the most primal instinct that took control of my body. Knowing there was no chance of escape, I could only hope that if I stayed silent and still, maybe—just maybe—it wouldn’t notice me.

The cold gleam of its blade swung directly at me, and I could even see each intricate metallic joint linked together.

I heard Ian yelling loudly, pulling at my clothes. But my feet were as if they had taken root, refusing to move an inch. How ironic. Is this how it ends for me?

It wasn’t until the nightmarish figure disintegrated, breaking into countless tiny pieces clattering onto the deck, that I finally snapped out of it.

I lifted my gaze and barely caught a glimpse of the figure disappearing around the corner. I saw him—Luther. He sprinted along the wall in a way that defied the laws of physics, his sword dancing so fluidly it was as if time itself couldn’t touch him.

That mutt didn’t slow down for us or make any gesture—Empire’s Heart was a massive ship, and he still had plenty of places to go.

Ian grabbed my collar, shaking me vigorously, shouting something again, spraying my face with spit, successfully snapping my attention back.

I shook my head hard, placing a hand on his wrist to signal that I was alert again and that I had just been too shocked to react. Ian furrowed his brows, staring into my eyes for a long moment, before finally nodding, deciding to let go of me and continue moving.

We managed to safely leave the evacuation zone and encountered a fully armed team behind a sliding door. Ian stepped forward, quickly exchanging tactical hand signals. I think I felt a faint tremor through Empire’s Heart, though I wasn’t sure if it was just my imagination. Then, the ship’s broadcast echoed again, and everyone’s terminals simultaneously received the same command.

“This is Arthur von Deutsche,” the captain’s image appeared on the screen. He looked a bit disheveled, with several tears in his uniform and some blood staining his cuff. “Directive code: 000.”

I felt the hair on my body stand on end, and others around me reacted similarly.

“I’ll repeat,” Arthur said again, as if to erase any doubts, though this time he couldn’t hide the exhaustion in his voice. “Abandon ship.”

The Empire’s Heart was a massive central hub mothership. Although the real firepower came from the billions of drones, it was still equipped with enough carrier ships to accommodate all the crew members.

Most of the carrier ships were non-combat models, such as shuttles equipped with precision instruments or ones specialized in speed.

When the abandon ship order was activated, we followed the procedure we had rehearsed and headed to our assigned carrier ship. Once it was confirmed to be fully loaded, we immediately detached from the mothership.

Only then did I realize how chaotic the situation outside had become.

All of The Empire’s Heart's drones had been deployed, making what should have been an empty space look like a silent metal storm. I could see a few drones following us, slowly circling around the ship.

“Cruiser group, deploy the Shield of German, and load the Adamantine projectile.” Arthur’s avatar appeared on the squad leaders' terminals. Ian, looking grim, stared at his screen. “Don't hold back, use everything!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the cruiser fleet deploy all its sentinels, forming a defensive perimeter around The Empire’s Heart. This was what was commonly referred to as The German Shield—each sentinel was a columnar structure equipped with machine guns and laser turrets, capable of continuous, all-round fire. It was the most efficient point-defense system in the entire sol. But I didn’t quite understand—why were they surrounding the flagship?

Once the machine gun turrets and lasers began spraying their dense firepower like rain, I got my answer.

There were two Empire’s Heart.

What on earth?

Earlier, I hadn’t noticed because of the swarms of drones, but two massive ships were colliding. I could only suspect that one was some sort of replica. The bow of the replica had brutally rammed into the bridge of The Empire’s Heart.

And around us, countless drones were viciously tearing each other apart.

This scene made me realize—the replica also had its own drones.

Sharp, jagged shards of metal and twisted fragments were flying everywhere. The drones hovering around us somehow created an invisible field that shielded us from these massive incoming threats. But occasionally, the field was breached, resulting in the destruction of one of the drones.

At this rate, before we could escape this meat grinder, all of the drones protecting us would be shot down.

“I wonder how Luther’s doing…” I murmured, recalling the fleeting image of that mutt.

“He’s probably doing a lot better than us, right?” José tried to break the tension with a sarcastic tone, gesturing at the chaos outside. But the nervousness in his voice was too obvious, so it didn’t quite have the desired effect. Still, I appreciated his effort.

“He’s with the Admiral, so there’s nothing to worry about,” Ian said, reviewing the reports from other squad leaders on his terminal.

“Ian…” I softly called his name, glancing at José, hoping for some support. But the coyote lowered his ears, embarrassed, and looked away. I sighed quietly, knowing I had to handle this myself. “You saw it when the captain gave the order, didn’t you?”

I knew he saw it; he was just refusing to admit it. Ian remained silent, tapping something into his terminal.

I could see the image of Captain Arthur on the screen. And that bright red coat he was wearing—it was as red as blood, trimmed with yellow lines—a long coat, not the flagship captain’s uniform, a black coat lined with bright red.

Now, he was Admiral Arthur.

“The Admiral is still alive,” Ian said, raising his head to look out the window. “He’s still fighting.”

I followed the yellow dog’s gaze and looked at the metal storm that filled the entire view, along with the drones still circling us.

Yes, without a doubt, the Admiral was still fighting.

Being engulfed by this furious swarm of drones at such close proximity felt completely different from watching the transmissions from the Battle of Midway from afar.

This was the way the Storm Wolf fought.

Ruthless and powerful, so much so that no one could come close. But at the same time, the gentle blue sky at its core was unmistakably present.

The drones circling us deflected so many fragments that the outline of the force field became clearly visible.

Occasionally, we would catch glimpses of the point-defense system’s bullet trails entering our field of view, creating flashes of light, and as they pierced through the drones’ armor, they would ignite even brighter sparks.

It was such a breathtaking scene, yet there was no sound at all. It felt strange.

In the next instant, we were caught in the midst of two storms crashing into each other, able to see nothing but the countless pieces of metal colliding, merging, and eventually separating. Thanks to the protection of the force field, our transport shuttle seemed unharmed. But after we finally broke free from the drone sea, I realized that all the drones that had been following us were now gone.

We no longer had any protection. We didn’t need to be hit by any weapons—just a slightly larger fragment would be enough to turn our vessel into a coffin.

“Attention, passengers aboard this flight, this is Captain Hudson speaking. We will now be flying at high speed through—oops, let me correct myself—through a deadly metal storm of drones, and there might be some turbulence ahead. Please make sure your seat belts are fastened!” The voice of our transport pilot crackled through the speakers. Maybe he was trying to ease the tension, or maybe the rumors were true—pilots' brains did get a little scrambled from too much time spent under high G-forces. “Please stow your trays, return your seatbacks to the upright position, and enjoy the ride!”

Contrary to the pilot’s instructions, my seat tilted back, restraining me even further, and a compartment on the armrest popped open, revealing a large oxygen shot. Then, my boots activated their magnetic lock, anchoring me to the floor as the boot shafts tightened, squeezing my calves.

Hudson had taken control of our boots.

“Rationalism witness, I hate this part!” Ian spat, stowing his terminal back on his arm and grabbing the oxygen shot, injecting it into his thigh.

I barely had time to process what he meant before I, too, grabbed my oxygen shot and injected myself. I had always thought this would be similar to escape velocity. But I quickly realized I was dead wrong—completely wrong.

People say that escape velocity feels like being crushed. I’d say that high-speed flight in space feels like being crushed, then scooped up and rolled into a ball, and finally smacked around for fun.