The Musings of a Military Police Officer
My name is Shachiku, a man with a wife and one child.
I work for the Space Force, though my assignment is a bit… unusual.
You see, ever since my days at the officer academy, my current post is one that my classmates despise as if I were venomous snakes and scorpions.
That’s right—I’m a military police officer in the Space Force.
Though we belong to the same Space Force, once assigned to the military police, you can never transfer out. From that moment on, we’re set apart from ordinary soldiers.
After all, our job is to police those very soldiers, so naturally, we’re disliked.
But oddly enough, the civilians around the base respect us more than regular military personnel.
Well, the reason is simple—part of our duty involves cracking down on unruly soldiers, and that’s mostly what I do.
In fact, the reason I met my wife was because I saved her from being assaulted by some troublemaking soldiers. So, all things considered, I can’t say it’s a bad job.
Since last year, I’ve been promoted from Warrant Officer to Second Lieutenant and appointed as the squad leader of the Security Mobile Unit under the Second Fleet’s Military Police Bureau.
For a poor man’s third son, this is an unusually successful career.
Work keeps me busy, but I can honestly say I’m happy—both professionally and personally.…Though lately, things have been a bit too busy.
Just today, duty called again. It was supposed to be my first day off in ten days, but early in the morning, I got an urgent call from work.
And not just any call—it was a First-Class Emergency Summons, something so serious I’d never experienced it before.
When my wife first heard the message, she panicked. It took all my effort to calm her down before I rushed to the base.
When I arrived, not all my subordinates were there yet.
Without waiting, I ordered the ones already present to gear up while we awaited further instructions from command.
Just as we finished preparations, orders came—not from my direct superior, but from the Bureau Chief himself.
[“Arm yourselves immediately and assemble in front of the Second Fleet Headquarters.”]
I could hear the tension in his voice. Honestly, for the first time, I started imagining the worst-case scenario.
But there were no riots in the city.
If it were a space attack, the regular Space Force would handle it—no need for us.
Maybe terrorists were storming the headquarters?
All sorts of grim possibilities crossed my mind, but none felt quite right.
With a lingering unease, I hurried my slower subordinates along and headed toward the command building as ordered.
By the time we arrived, our colleagues had already formed a perimeter around the headquarters—we were the last to join.
Of course, we weren’t even on standby—we were fully off-duty—so it made sense we’d be last.
Still, I was relieved no one blamed us for the delay.
I lined up my squad and reported to the Bureau Chief, who was directing operations on-site.
“Security Mobile Unit, Third Squad—reporting for duty, excluding a few absent soldiers.”
“Ah, you made it. Sorry to drag you in on your day off. Now that you’re here, follow me.”
With that, the Bureau Chief—along with a group of armed military police investigators—entered the headquarters building, flanked by my squad for protection.
At that moment, I had no idea what was happening. I just followed orders.
But it was then that I finally understood the source of the unease I’d been feeling.
The way we had surrounded the headquarters—it wasn’t to guard against an external threat.
No, we were bracing for something inside.
The enemy was within.
There was no tension like a terrorist takeover,
nor did it seem like a faction of the military had rebelled and barricaded themselves.
Still clueless, we climbed the stairs all the way to the fifteenth floor—the top level.
Honestly, hauling full gear up fifteen flights was exhausting. I was even more surprised to see the Bureau Chief, a man of considerable age, taking the stairs too.
Of course, it was standard procedure—avoiding the risk of getting trapped in an elevator. But that very fact spoke volumes about the abnormality unfolding in this building.
With every floor, the tension grew.
Finally, we reached the top. The Bureau Chief led us straight to the office of the Second Fleet Commander-in-Chief.
(Later, I’d learn that another team had been dispatched to the Operations Command Room and the General Staff Office with investigators and a warrant.)
My wife told me she saw it on the news—
said it looked just like one of those drama scenes where special investigators storm a place with search warrants. I had to laugh at that.
The moment we entered, the lead investigator—replacing the Bureau Chief—read out an order from High Command, announcing the temporary arrest of the Fleet Admiral and the suspension of his authority.
“Fleet Admiral, you are under suspicion of conspiring against the Kingdom in an attempted rebellion. By the authority of the Military Police, your command privileges are hereby suspended pending investigation.”
“Wha—what… H-how…? What is the meaning of this?!”
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The Fleet Admiral could barely speak from shock, managing only that much.
At that point, I signaled my squad to lower their weapons.
Right before entering, we’d been ready to fire at a moment’s notice to protect the Bureau Chief if anyone inside made a move.
But aside from the Fleet Admiral, only the Chief of Staff was present.
With no immediate threat, I ordered weapons stowed—though we remained on guard to prevent any reckless actions on our side.
Still… Thank goodness.
At the very least, I wasn’t about to die today.
I stayed alert but otherwise just watched things unfold.
Attempted rebellion—those weren’t words to take lightly.
The Bureau Chief began explaining the situation to the stunned Fleet Admiral:
A supply fleet commander, dispatched for training exercises, had been arrested in the act of attempting rebellion at a distant colony.
The Fleet Admiral should have been briefed on the fleet’s deployment, but since it wasn’t a critical matter, it must’ve slipped his mind. At first, he was completely lost.
It wasn’t until the Fleet Chief of Staff beside him explained—”It’s the officer training squadron we recently dispatched”—that comprehension finally dawned.
Even I, just listening in, pieced together the situation from their exchange.
So, it was an attempted rebellion. But that just raised more questions.
The Fleet Admiral voiced them himself:
“I understand the rebellion claim. But I had no part in it! If they were going to rebel, why there of all places? No soldier in their right mind would stage a rebellion under such conditions—strategically and tactically, it’s utter nonsense!”
That’s what he’s telling
He wasn’t wrong.
Even a lowly officer like me could see the logic—or rather, the lack of it.
The location was close to the capital but isolated from major routes—good for hiding, but not for staging an outright rebellion. Any trained soldier would know that.
Everyone in the room seemed to agree. It was clear the Fleet Admiral hadn’t been involved.
Honestly, the Bureau Chief probably suspected as much from the start.
But with direct orders from High Command—and given the gravity of a rebellion charge—protocol demanded the highest level of caution.
The Fleet Admiral’s interrogation began on the spot. It took time, but by some measures, it was over in just a few hours.
For an incident this major, that was incredibly fast. Still, with movements this conspicuous, there was no hiding it from the public—by evening, it was all over the news.
My wife’s only takeaway? “Looked just like a TV drama.”
As for me, after about ten hours since the summons, I was finally released and headed home.
Before I left, the Bureau Chief apologized again:
“Sorry for calling you in on your day off. You’re dismissed now—go enjoy the rest of your time off.”
He said “the rest,” but it was already past 7 PM.
Enjoy what, exactly?
I’d been hoping to take my family to the zoo—something we hadn’t done in ages.
Yeah, no. The zoo’s long closed by now.
I grumbled internally but kept a straight face. “It’s my duty, sir. No need to apologize.”
With that, I went home. The moment I stepped inside, my daughter came running.
“Daddy! Daddy! You were on TV earlier! You looked so cool!” She threw herself into my arms.
“Oh? Your dad looked cool, huh?” I lifted her up, nuzzling her cheek as I walked over to my wife.
“Welcome home,”
she said, tears in her eyes.
I remembered how she’d looked when I left—
she must’ve been terrified.
I pulled her close, hugging her and our daughter together.
“I’m home.”
That was all I said. I truly am blessed. For a poor man’s son, there’s no greater happiness than this.
Right then, I silently vowed to protect this happiness, no matter what.
Still… lately, it’s been one major incident after another.
And every time, it’s something that requires us—the Military Police—to step in.
Not long ago, we detained a staff officer and several high-ranking fleet officers, sending them to the capital.
Come to think of it, High Command was in complete chaos back then, too.
I heard the First Fleet had even more arrests—higher-ranking officers, at that.
What in the world is happening in this Kingdom?
The thought worried me, but I tucked it away. No need to trouble my wife further.
Arm in arm, the three of us stepped inside—together.
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this dudes entire thoughts can be summed up as”while serious in the end nothing’s changed for me and can’t worry about that other stuff got no control over so gonna just enjoy being with my family”