Prologue: Idol of the Empire
“Captain, regarding the schedule following our routine patrol mission toward the lunar surface…”
Van-Varvarossa, the Executive Officer of the destroyer Seneca, was forty-seven years old. However, due to a career spent almost entirely on space duty—mostly piloting patrol boats near the suns of colonial sectors—the effects of ultraviolet radiation and other cosmic factors made him look somewhat older than his actual age.
His thick, snow-white beard seemed to merge seamlessly into his sideburns, and the deep wrinkles accentuating his eyes had earned him the nickname “The Yeti.”
“Hah… how depressing. I truly hate this.”
Captain Lillian-Luzor, captain of the destroyer Seneca, sat in her command chair with her cheek resting in her hand, leaning on one elbow as she spat out her complaints.
Through a series of exceptional circumstances, Lillian had been granted the rank of Major.
As a result, she had been given command of her own ship, the Seneca. Yet, her actual duties consisted of nothing but patrolling fixed routes
and performing the “job” of flashing a pointless, charming smile at the public.
“I sympathize with your feelings, Major. However, this is also part of the job.”
“Flashing a stupid, charming smile is a ‘job’? Don’t make me laugh.”
This exchange was a daily occurrence on the bridge of the Seneca. The crew mostly tuned it out, offering nothing but silent pity for their young captain.
“First, there is the television filming at the Lunar City. The usual routine. After that, a photoshoot—oh, and a commercial shoot has been added as well. Yes, and then…”
“Enough. That’s enough. I don’t want to hear it. Don’t make me listen. I feel like I’m going to get sick.”
Lillian melodramatically covered her ears with both hands and shook her head.
It had been six months since the Tiberius returned to Earth. The impact of the incident had been staggering. At first, it was hailed as a “Miraculous Return,” and the survivors were put on pedestals as “The Miracle Children.” This was followed by narratives claiming they survived thanks to the education of the Dawn Blaze Academy, thanks to battleship technology, or thanks to their pride as Imperial Soldiers. The talents of the primary crew members were praised to high heaven. For a while, Weltall—who had served as captain—and the four “Young Lions” including him were, naturally, devoured by the media.
Simultaneously, student interviews and subsequent investigations revealed that Lillian had also been a central member. They slapped labels on her like “The Joan of Arc” or “The Goddess of the Battlefield,” churning out one catchphrase after another to hype her up.
The prominent crew members received similar treatment, and the group of girls, in particular, was treated like a pop-idol unit.
In other words, Lillian was trapped right in the middle of the storm.
(This never happened before, though…)
In her previous life, the students aboard the Tiberius had indeed been praised as a miracle and briefly celebrated, but in the end, only Weltall and his group remained topics of conversation. Neither Lillian nor the rest of the crew had ever been featured so prominently.
While she had been granted a decent position and continued her military service, she had never once been called upon for photoshoots or television appearances.
(Ah, I stood out too much… I overdid it. Oh, good grief, I’m such an idiot.)
Since becoming a Captain, Lillian found herself holding her head in her hands more and more often.
She absolutely loathed the idol-like work. The person inside here is an old woman over seventy, for heaven’s sake!
When she was asked for a swimsuit shoot, she had relied on her father’s influence—something she had intended never to use—to have the request wiped clean. Yet, she wondered what on earth someone had whispered into her father’s ear afterward.
The proposal of “just a photoshoot in military uniform for recruitment PR” was somehow officially requested as a military duty.
Just thinking about it made her skin crawl. On top of that, she was asked to release a song, or appear in a drama—she was being treated exactly like a professional idol, which she rejected at every turn.
Even so, the job offers never stopped. Thinking it would be fine if it was just a TV interview or explaining the details of the incident, she had compromised and given her permission—and that had been her undoing.
Every station began swarming her, and things naturally spiraled into more idol-work.
She couldn’t help but feel her father’s shadow looming in the background.
She was his “precious, darling daughter,” born to him later in life, who had recently been involved in a drifting accident that nearly cost her life.
His logic was likely: If sending the famous Lillian to the battlefield means she might die again, I’d rather she just became an idol or an actress.
Persuading her father had become a matter of utmost urgency.
“I wonder if an alien will attack somewhere. I’d love to rush to the scene and cancel all my afternoon plans.”
The return of the Tiberius hadn’t just affected how the students were treated.
The fact that they had confirmed the existence of intelligent life-forms different from humanity in the far reaches of space—and that they possessed space-faring warships and had engaged them in combat—was a truth that could not be hidden.
In a sense, humanity had achieved the contact with extraterrestrial life it had long desired. However, the encounter was the worst possible kind. The fact that it escalated into battle didn’t just cause fear; it served to further incite public interest in deep space.
Moreover, the fact that a battleship manned by students had successfully defeated them and returned safely to Earth made the situation even more complicated.
“What’s there to fear from aliens!”
The sentiment that “aliens who can be kicked around by students aren’t worth worrying about”
was thick in the air.
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That said, the Imperial Army had at least strengthened its patrols and was proceeding with the deployment of more cruisers to various colonial planets.
While these were relatively positive steps, the groundless confidence spreading through the Empire only fueled Lillian’s anxiety.
Though, it seemed those who actually knew the reality of the front lines didn’t share that optimism.
“Ah… Captain-shousa.”
Debonair was the communications officer on the Seneca. Having heard somewhere that Lillian was becoming a destroyer captain, she had practically barged into Lillian’s home. Apparently, Debonair also hated her own idol-like work and had come hoping Lillian could do something about it.
That same Debonair now wore an expression that suggested she found her current news very difficult to deliver.
“I don’t want to hear it, but tell me.”
Lillian understood that when Debonair made that face, the communication was never good news.
“Well, a tourist ship bound for Lunar City has overlapped with our ship’s route. Because of that… Major General Zenon from the Moon Base sent word asking us to provide some ‘fan service’…”
“…Does he want me to perform acrobatics in a destroyer? Is he an idiot?”
“Speaking of tourist ships, aren’t those your ‘clients,’ Captain?”
As he spoke, Van-XO was already issuing instructions to change course so they could pull alongside the tourist vessel.
Lillian noted with a mix of admiration and annoyance how efficient he was.
Lillian had anticipated the XO’s comment about “clients,” so she could only nod with a sense of heavy reluctance.
“I’m sure it’s loaded with high nobles and media celebrities. Knowing His Excellency Zenon, this probably doubles as an order to act as their escort.”
“A bit of steady lobbying to stay in their good graces, then?”
“Most likely. I know it’s necessary, but it’s such a pain for the one doing it. Why do I have to play-act as an idol?”
That phrase had become something of a catchphrase for her.
If this was how things were going to be, she would have to use some aggressive measures to get promoted—at the very least, she needed to become the captain of a cruiser.
She was the daughter of the Chief of Staff, after all. As long as she did her job quietly, it shouldn’t be difficult.
The real problem was the excessive idol-treatment. She had a feeling she was being intentionally kept away from missions in dangerous sectors because of it.
“Set course for the tourist ship. Navigate alongside them. No acrobatics. Relay that to the tourist ship’s captain as well.”
Lillian felt another sigh brewing at the thought that these tedious missions would likely continue for a while.
With no other choice, she operated the console at the captain’s seat to fill out the logbook.
She filled in the details of the patrol route, the status of the crew and the ship—mostly using templates for the necessary parts—and ended with her usual closing line:
“The universe is peaceful today. That is all.”
(A peace that won’t last long anyway,) she added in her head.
“Captain-shousa, incoming transmission from the destroyer Chousei of the Moon Base. Putting it on the main monitor.”
Upon hearing Debonair’s report, Lillian signed her name in the log and closed the console.
Simultaneously, a familiar face appeared on the monitor.
[This is Captain Ares, captain of the destroyer Chousei. Major Lillian, I have received notification to join you in escorting the tourist ship. I will be moving to join you.]
On the screen was Ares, looking every bit the professional soldier with a sharp salute and a formal military tone.
Currently assigned to the Moon Base Defense Fleet, he was a destroyer captain just like Lillian.
“We both have it rough, don’t we?”
[It is our duty. Please keep that in mind, Major Lillian.]
He’s so serious…
Lillian felt that Ares’s straightforwardness was something that should be commended.
Following that, flanked by the two destroyers, the tourist ship entered the spaceport of the Lunar City without incident.
The only annoying part was the additional order to remain on standby at the spaceport for a while—essentially putting the destroyers on display for further “fan service.”
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