The Pale Blue Dot - 5. Chapter 5 The Pale Blue Dot

The makeshift courtroom reeked of urine and a certain acidic stench, like vomit left to ferment.

I suspected it came from the drunkard standing in front of me. Then again, maybe the noble always smelled like this--I wouldn't know, having never been close to one before. I glanced at the few pedigreed dogs sitting on the judge's bench, pondering the possibility.

Did they sniff each other's butts just as we mutts did, or was that something reserved for us lower breeds?

"Next," the phantom poodle judge struck the gavel and signaled to the court clerk.

"Case number 24601, theft, unlawful entry, one prior offense for theft, and one for public urination," the chihuahua clerk read out.

The Labrador bailiff beside me shoved me forward to the defendant's stand.

"Guilty." I wanted to save some time. The rigid, slow, and tedious process was punishment enough, not to mention that my defenses had never mattered anyway.

"You robbed a house..." the judge began.

"I broke a windowpane." I forced myself to meet his eyes, trying not to be distracted by the fluffy fur around his face. If I laughed, they'd probably add contempt of court to the list. "I stole a loaf of bread. My sister's child was close to death, and we were starving."

"You don't have a nephew. You stole jewelry worth a thousand credits and sold it for alcohol." The judge glanced at the case file. "Is there any error in the defendant's record?" he asked the clerk, who shook his head.

"Oh, come on." I rolled my eyes dramatically. "Seriously, 24601?" I looked around the courtroom.

The others were staring blankly at the ceiling and walls, clearly uninterested in backing me up. The drunkard who had just been hauled out by the bailiff was now vomiting by the door, too busy to help himself, let alone me.

"In light of the defendant's two prior offenses and the fact that you will turn sixteen next week," the judge seemed unwilling to indulge my antics any further, "you are subject to the three-strikes law."

"Hey, you can't do that!" The law clearly didn't work that way, but the judge just turned his head and raised an eyebrow, giving me a look that said, "I can't?"

"Considering the defendant's young age, the court offers the option to enlist in the Navy, serve the Empire, and have your record expunged," he continued, leaning his elbows on the desk, fingers interlaced. "Or twenty years of hard labor at the Bellwood Quarry." He added this last part as casually as if he were asking what I wanted for lunch. "I hear the lakes there are beautiful, though they don't quite compare to the sunsets at Toulon Shipyard."

"Enlist," I sighed, shoulders slumping, ears flattening against my head. I didn't even have the energy for sarcasm.

Sixteen-hour shifts at the quarry were basically a death sentence, just a slow and painful one. If I'd known it would come to this, I would've taken more credits and traded them for Cognac. The single-malt whiskey wasn’t nearly as good as I'd imagined.

"Next." The gavel struck again, and the bailiff seized my arm, dragging me away like just another item on a conveyor belt.


"Next." I obediently stepped onto the scanning platform, ignoring the rough shovels and unfriendly tone. The faster this humiliating process ends the better. I scratched at the spot on my right buttock where they'd just jabbed me with a vaccine cocktail.

It really itched.

"Alpha of three ears, Beta of seven eyes, Alpha of one snout, Alpha of one tail..." The dark gray terrier conducted the medical exam and grabbed the base of my tail, causing the fur on my back and tail to stand on end uncontrollably. My body went rigid, blood rushing to my ears. He whistled, jotting down notes in my file. "...Too bad the coat color is Zeta group."

I glanced down at my arm in confusion. The black base color was streaked with a few deep brown stripes, sparsely interwoven, often described as somewhat tiger-like, though the dark colors made it hard to see unless you looked closely.

"But the base color is still black, so no one should mind." He patted my rump to signal I could step down, making my ears twitch again. "Why bother enlisting in the Navy and giving yourself a hard time? Any powerful House would be more than happy to have you." He scanned the barcode on my right arm band and waved me off.

If it weren't for that damned poodle abusing his power, I wouldn't be here, would I? And don't get me started on the Navy--everyone knows it's the crappiest of all the crappy assignments, with horror stories circulating on every street corner.

Sure, the environment on Gaia is deteriorating day by day, both ecologically and socially--I get that. But that doesn't mean I want to venture into space, filled with uncertain and certain dangers alike. I can't see how any part of that makes sense. I've never understood the so-called "romance of exploring the final frontier." Solid ground under my feet is more than enough for me, as long as there's a proper balance--like the presence of alcohol.

But what did he mean by that last comment? While the phrase "have you" doesn't sound great, I've been treated like an object so much lately that I'm becoming numb to it. Curiosity is getting better of me instead. Maybe one day I'll ask the other breeds about the significance of coat colors and classifications. If the Navy is truly as "egalitarian" as the official propaganda claims, perhaps a well-informed mid-level citizen will be willing to explain it all to me.

Soon, I was at the front of the line again, being instructed to assume some kind of pose and step into a machine with an unknown function. I tried to distract myself during the empty stretch of time, avoiding thoughts of the misfortunes and the eight million ways to die I might encounter in the future.

Twenty years of service, and I'd be out, with my record cleared and citizenship in paw. I clung to these optimistic thoughts, watching the small lights inside the machine flash in different colors.

The red warning lights went off, and the others began unbuckling their seatbelts, while I still hadn't recovered from the intense forces experienced during the ship's cosmic velocity, leaving me frozen in my seat.

"First time?" A large yellow dog said to me with a grin. He had some features reminiscent of a Labrador.

"Yeah." I replied as I unsteadily stood up, activating the magnetic boots. The sudden pull and the sensation of floating stirred my brain, making me feel nauseous.

"You're lucky, getting to experience the flagship's quadrennial landing. Usually, rookies board the ship via space elevator." He continued talking, but my brain wasn't functioning well enough to direct my body. "Hey, take it slow." The big dog squatted beside me, adjusting my boots so I could plant my feet on the ground. "It's like a puppy learning to walk, but you'll get used to it." He patted my shoulder encouragingly. "No one forgets their first time; it's like learning to walk all over again." Before I realized I needed it, the yellow dog handed me a zip lock bag with some fabric inside, then turned away to attend to his own tasks.

"Private Luther, report to Alpha Section One on the port side immediately." The uncompromising voice from the personal terminal on my arm left me momentarily unsure of what to do with the bag of orange liquid in my paw. I quickly glanced at the direction indicator and the map, considering my very limited options.

"I don't need an orderly!" The gray wolf, dressed in a red uniform coat, paced back and forth in front of the communicator. His pure white fur flickered with a silver glow as he passed through the projection.

"That's not up to you." The German shepherd said in an emotionless tone, to which the gray wolf responded with a furious roar, slamming his fist onto the touch panel and cutting off the communication. He then shot me with a fierce glare.

"Private Luther reporting, captain!" I recalled the humiliating experience of basic training and quickly saluted, nearly tripping over myself due to the magnetic boots tightly clinging to the floor--something that shouldn't be possible in a zero-gravity environment.

After what felt like an eternity of tense silence, the gray wolf's bristled fur gradually settled down. He sighed, lowered his head, and closed his eyes as if accepting the arrangement of some unavoidable force.

"My orderly doesn't need to salute me." He adjusted his uniform, returning to normal stance and locking eyes with me. The pressure from his blue eyes sent a shiver down my spine. "And it's Admiral." He casually waved his paw towards a nearby live feed. "I command the entire fleet, not just a single ship."

In the projection, I could see the enormous flagship bearing the black, red, and yellow crest of the German House, surrounded by ships of various sizes. In the stillness, the fleet exuded a formidable aura, so strong that it seemed I could almost feel the heat and rumbling of the nuclear fusion reactors at work.

"I despise unnecessary formalities, so your job..." The gray wolf's words pulled my attention back, but he was immediately interrupted by a mechanical voice broadcast.

"Exiting Gaia Buffer Zone, initiating artificial gravity."

As the normal white light turned on, I felt my stomach drop. It felt great to be standing on solid ground again.

"...as I was saying, your job..." The gray wolf was interrupted again, and it took us both a moment to realize what had happened.

Orange viscous liquid was dripping down from his head, gathering at the tips of his white fur before falling onto his red coat and black boots.

I must not have thought through my decision to leave the vomit bag floating up by the ceiling.

The white wolf's nose twitched twice, clearly understanding the cause and effect from the smell.

"...Maybe we should start here." Those blue eyes seemed to burn with intensity.

"'Private Luther, where's your brain?' 'Private Luther, is there any part of you that works besides that mouth?' 'Private Luther, if you utter one more syllable of nonsense, I'll find some other use for your tongue!'..." I imitated the dumb wolf's tone, mimicking him in a sarcastic, exaggerated voice, trying to vent some frustration.

I was certain that cleaning the deck with a toothbrush was a form of punishment; cleaning robots were much more efficient. But I didn't want to test if he'd really make me clean the deck with my tongue, so I kept my mouth shut.

"Black Alert, entering Gaia Buffer Zone..."

"'Private Luther, don't you know that during a Black Alert, you're supposed to be in a shielded cabin, not wandering around outside?'" I grumbled as I passed through the hatch, feeling the floating sensation as the artificial gravity disengaged. I was about to activate my magnetic boots, but the scene before me left me so shocked that I forgot what I was about to do.

The admiral was standing in front of an observation window that, for some unknown reason, hadn't been covered with lead panels, gazing intently at something.

This was against safety procedures; cosmic rays could kill us in seconds!

But the gray wolf's expression made me hesitate. That deep gaze led me to follow his line of sight out the window.

In the vastness of deep space, only a few sparse points of light could be seen, and even they were so faint they were barely visible. In the direction we were headed, I could just make out a small, bluish-gray celestial body. So small, so lonely, drifting in the endless void.

"Is that... Gaia?" I heard myself murmuring.

"Yes." The gray wolf replied simply, but it explained everything.

For a long time after that, neither of us spoke, just staring out the window.

"I'm surprised to see a young gray wolf joining the navy." He finally broke the silence. "But which faction are you from? I don't recall seeing such stripes and fur color." The white wolf glanced at me before turning back to the view.

"Strike three. The judge gave me a choice: enlist or face a death sentence carried out over twenty years." I replied. "And I'm a mutt." I couldn't tear my gaze away from Gaia, floating so isolated in space, watching as the bluish-gray planet slowly grew larger. "I'm just a commoner."

"Oh." The admiral cleared his throat, quickly adjusting his already perfectly tailored red uniform coat, looking somewhat flustered. "But I think, in essence, we're all the same." His words were rushed, as if he was trying to find a random topic to break the awkward tension after mistaking my species. "The pedigreed House, who've overbred to the point of inbreeding, need gray wolves, or mutts who've hybridized to the extreme, to 'repair' their bloodlines."

"What?" Hearing this for the first time, I found it hard to believe.

"To preserve the traits that a House takes the most pride in, pedigreed must intermarry within closely related bloodlines so that their characteristics won't be diluted." He spoke in a somewhat detached tone, as if his thoughts had drifted far away. "But what remains isn't just the desired traits, but also the deadly flaws that were overlooked at the start." He pointed to our reflections in the window. "Noses so short they cause suffocation, skulls so malformed they damage the brain, tongues so long they block the airway..."

He listed each body part one by one, explaining.

"Most pedigreed have existed for less than a thousand years. Compared to gray wolves who've adapted through two million years of evolution, they're essentially an unstable young breed. So, it's very accurate to view dogs as a neotenous form of gray wolves."

He pointed to his own snout and ears.

"The simplest strategy to reverse the curses flowing in their blood is to 'breed back' with their ancestors--the gray wolves--restoring the defective parts to their original design." He tapped his chest twice, then slowly pointed to my reflection in the glass. "Another option, though less effective, is to hybridize with mutts who have a wide variety of backup components, using other functional structures to replace the faulty ones."

Following the Admiral's fingertip, I looked at the reflections of the two of us in the window and only then realized how similar we actually were--a pure white gray wolf and a dark-furred mutt with deep brown stripes--both with erect ears, prominent snouts, and unmistakably sharp wolf eyes.

"I never thought that marrying a mutt could have this effect too." Now I understood why I'd been told that during the enlistment examination. "I always thought that was a gray wolf thing." Honestly, I never really understood the problems pedigreed faced; it was too far removed from my world. All I knew were the rumors going around, saying pedigreed had inbred themselves into idiots, which was why the Canine Empire had so many issues.

"The policies implemented by the emperor have made purebred gray wolves increasingly rare." He muttered. "So ironically, my position could easily be yours." He continued to explain, seeing my confused expression. "Strictly speaking, this fleet belongs to my wife; I'm just in charge of commanding it." He chuckled, as if he'd thought of a funny joke. "I only got this position thanks to the title I acquired through marriage."

I didn't know how to respond to such a candid explanation. As mentioned before, there was almost no interaction between commoners and nobility, so naturally, I wouldn't know these things.

"Due to an accident, I had to perform a spacewalk within Gaia's domain to repair the ship's hull." He lightly tapped the spot on the window representing Gaia with his fingernail. "That was the first time I witnessed such a scene--floating alone in the complete silence of the void, fully realizing how limited the space I occupy in this world truly is. The sheer magnitude of it overwhelmed me to the point where I started crying and nearly choked on my own tears." I looked at the planet by his fingertip, pondering how such a tiny sphere could hold all of us. "I think no matter how many years pass, that profound impact will never fade."

I could understand what he meant. It's... an indescribable intensity, something you can't truly comprehend without seeing it with your own eyes. I also felt something stirring in my chest, lodging in my throat.

"But don't forget about cleaning the deck," the white wolf turned back to me with a playful smile, pointing to the toothbrush I had forgotten I was still holding. "Otherwise, trying to do it with your tongue would be much harder." After saying that, he gave the deck a gentle push and floated towards the hatch.

As the admiral left, the lead panel slid shut over the window, pulling me out of that indescribable view. I crouched down and continued scrubbing the deck with the toothbrush. Yet my thoughts remained deeply immersed in the void, resonating with those blue eyes that shone in unison with the silent planet.

The mess hall was incredibly noisy, a chaotic mix of laughter, shouting, and the clatter of utensils.

The food synthesizer used by the soldiers would occasionally malfunction, producing something strange. As the canines around me good-naturedly teased, I could only shrug at the pink mush on my tray.

"Hey, over here!" I looked up at the voice--a big yellow dog who had helped me adjust my magnetic boots earlier.

"Well, well, isn't this the admiral's little pup? What brings you down to dine with us common folk today?" A coyote at the table sneered, and the others laughed along with him.

"Don't bully the rookie," the big yellow dog rolled his eyes and pointed his fork at the coyote, who responded by sticking out his tongue.

"The admiral's having dinner with the captain today, doesn't want to be disturbed," I explained, while taking a bite of the pink mush.

Wow, surprisingly tasty.

"Captain Arthur?" The fox next to me asked. When I nodded in response, he let out a whistle. Some people laughed, while others looked awkward.

Come to think of it, it was strange. The admiral had never sent me away during meals with other officers before. Although, his exact words had been, "Enduring your nonsense is bad enough; subjecting Arthur to it would be downright cruel," and "I don't want to lose my temper in front of Arthur, it would make me seem uncultured."

"Did you happen to 'accidentally' overhear anything interesting?" The coyote asked, eyes sparkling with curiosity as he took a bite of his burrito.

"Are you asking for a whipping, José?" The big yellow dog sighed, prodding at his food with his fork.

"Oh, everyone knows that our noble and merciful admiral--the Empire's Heart, Archduke of Germany, the Storm Wolf--would never do something so barbaric!" José recited the admiral's titles with mock solemnity, earning chuckles from those around.

"That doesn't mean you can go around tarnishing the admiral's reputation..." The yellow dog murmured, lowering his head as he continued eating.

Being the focus of so many curious eyes made me uncomfortable.

"Other than the admiral being very particular about how coffee should be brewed," and how sugar should be added, "he's just a somewhat dull, overbearing, and quick-tempered noble," just like any other noble.

My description seemed to disappoint everyone, and I tilted my head and perked up one ear, signaling my confusion and asking for an explanation.

"Our noble and capable admiral has a rather peculiar hobby!" The coyote leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Or should I say, a rather unusual taste?"

"What?" I asked, bewildered. The fox tried to maintain a straight face, stifling a laugh, while the yellow dog kept his head down, eating.

"The Admiral likes... how should I put it?" The coyote scratched his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. The yellow dog sighed in resignation, while the fox offered an encouraging smile for the performance. "He's into being a cuckold."

"Uh... what does that mean?" Judging by the reactions of those around--some laughing so hard they were slapping the table, others awkwardly looking away--it seemed to be an open secret.

"The captain's having an affair with the German Archduchess!" José declared with a chuckle, but my confusion only deepened.

"The head of German House is made up of the Archduke and Archduchess--the Admiral and his spouse, Archduchess Maya. Captain Arthur is a baron of German House, a lower-ranked noble." The big yellow dog explained. "But the captain is highly capable and has an impressive record, which is why he rose to his current position. He's been the admiral's trusted friend and partner for many years."

"I'd say maybe a little too 'trusted' a friend!" The coyote quipped, and the fox gave up holding back his laughter, setting his utensils aside. "During a flagship landing ceremony, Arthur and Maya were caught in the act by an officer."

"Allegedly..." The yellow dog muttered.

"Oh, our dear Sergeant Ian doesn't like it when people slander his hero." José draped an arm around Ian's shoulders, whispering teasingly into his ear.

"The next time the admiral deploys the drone swarm to fend off enemy artillery, maybe you should show a bit of gratitude." Ian finished his meal and tossed his fork onto his tray. "He risked spending the rest of his life drooling in bed just to save your sorry ass."

"I have nothing but the utmost respect for our great and fierce Storm Wolf!" José protested with exaggerated gestures. "Rationalism prevails--anyone who's seen him tear a battleship apart with a drone swarm wouldn't dare think otherwise." He touched his heart and forehead, making a gesture of Rationalism's witness. "But that doesn't contradict the fact that the admiral has a thing for being cuckolded!"

Ian could only fall silent in the face of José's attempt to defend himself with logic.

"Anyway, Arthur and Maya's affair has been spotted more than once, and their level of intimacy definitely goes beyond what noble etiquette allows." I'd heard that, for nobles, a French kiss was standard social etiquette upon first meeting, so exceeding that limit wasn't easy. "Everyone felt sorry for our valiant Storm Wolf, lamenting that this might be the downside of marrying into one of the nine Archducal Houses--a purebred gray wolf, wasted." José clicked his tongue a few times, shaking his head. "Until one day, a certain destroyer captain..."

"Hoffmann," the fox interjected with a grin.

"...got 'drunk' again," José nodded in acknowledgment, appreciating the addition. "And spilled a bunch of high-society gossip, that's when we realized--the admiral has known about Arthur and Maya's affair all along, but he doesn't care and even maintains a close friendship with his flagship captain." He shivered. "So, I can only say, this friendship is either exceptionally strong, or there's a simpler explanation."

"To unusual kinks!" The fox raised his cup in a toast. "Kinks truly are the key to world peace, Rationalism be my witness." Some people nearby joined in his laughter, but more were like Ian, feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

"So, I'm quite certain the current heir of German House, that lame German shepherd, is definitely Arthur's bastard!" José laughed a few more times before picking up his tray and leaving. No one else laughed this time; it seemed he had crossed a line.

"Don't listen to that flamboyant coyote's nonsense, José is always like that." Ian also started clearing his tray, and the fox half-heartedly agreed with his assessment, although Ian clearly didn't want to delve into which part he disagreed with.

"The admiral and the captain have fought side by side for over ten years. That kind of camaraderie isn't something outsiders can understand. And don't forget the Marquis of Berlin..." Ian touched his heart and forehead. "Anyone who's seen those blue eyes knows--they're a spitting image of the admiral's. He's definitely not a bastard."

"Let's just say the admiral hasn't had the best of luck," the fox continued eating his meal. "If he doesn't produce a flawless heir soon, the Grand Duchy of German is in serious jeopardy." He bit down on his fork, his eyes taking on a distant look. "Especially since many great House are deeply dissatisfied with the admiral's ideology, like his stance on sheltering runaway serfs from other territories, which cuts into their profits." The fox seemed to be unconsciously scratching his neck, and it was then that I noticed the uneven ring of pale fur around his throat.

Though I was born a commoner from a free city, I still had the chance to encounter serfs on occasion--some lords would rent out their "property" to the city government. Even by imperial standards, the treatment of serfs in the Grand Duchy of Golden was notoriously poor, and I had occasionally overheard them whispering about their yearning for the Grand Duchy of German, though I hadn't given it much thought before.

However, Ian's earlier comments hadn't denied that the admiral's wife was indeed having... an intimate relationship with his flagship captain. But I figured I wasn't in a position to judge others, nor was there necessarily anything wrong with that intimacy. As the fox said, I welcomed any solutions that could bring peace to the world. If it took all sorts of peculiar kinks to make everyone live in harmony, then so be it.

"So... what's the deal with the drone swarm?" I had heard about it--it was related to the "Storm Wolf" title--but I hadn't realized the admiral personally operated the drones. I thought he just commanded them. Although I didn't really know what "operating" the drones entailed, I just knew it was extremely dangerous.

"I hope you never have to witness the admiral in battle," Ian said as he and the fox got up, signaling that their break was over. "But statistically, that's impossible. So, I'll just say, you'll understand when you see it."

After Ian left, the fox gave me some tips on using the food synthesizer, then introduced himself. "Just call me Abel." He gave me another smile before following Ian out of the mess hall.

I continued eating my somewhat strange looking but surprisingly delicious dinner, mulling over all the new information I had gathered.

It always felt so distant, like something I could never influence, so I never really understood the situation within the Empire. It was like some kind of castle in the clouds, unreal. But Abel's neck reminded me that the undercurrents of imperial politics were very real, affecting everyone living within the Empire--even those outside of it.

For the first time in my life, I felt as though I had stepped into murky waters with depths I could not fathom, where countless undercurrents surged, ready to sweep away anyone who couldn't find solid footing, pulling them into an immense vortex. When those insignificant and tiny beings were engulfed, they wouldn't even have time to utter a whimper before being lost forever.

 

In the transport pod heading directly to the bridge, the admiral stood with one paw clasped behind his back, his expression unreadable as he stared at the briefing information displayed on the wall, while sipping his first cup of coffee for the day.

"The admiral of the Empire's Fang Fleet reports that the rendezvous time will be delayed, with no specific timeframe confirmed. The entire fleet's fusion reactors have malfunctioned, the cause is currently unknown. They won't be able to reignite until the next Dyson Swarm supply cycle at the earliest," I read aloud from the high-priority tachyon communication.

"If there's anything those unreliable maned wolves can be certain about, I'd be grateful," the admiral sighed without taking his eyes off the wall. "Reply to Marquis Canberra that we'll proceed to the mission location and begin our search. They can join us once they're ready."

"Archduke Siberia sends his morning greetings, and he wishes to..." I was cut off by the white wolf before I could finish.

"Delete it, and block his communications," the admiral said, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. "I should have done that ages ago. You really ought to see the Ten Great House's communication group; that annoying Husky floods it with 'good morning' videos every single day." The admiral shook his head and continued reviewing the briefing information on the wall. "I'm certain the emperor's polite responses are all handled by his secretary," the white wolf muttered, sliding his fingers across the reports displayed on the wall.

"The Hermes base has confirmed that the Dyson Swarm supply progress is ready and awaiting your authorization code to proceed with the energy transfer," I informed the admiral that this was the final message, just as the transport pod arrived at its destination and the doors slid open.

"Admiral on the bridge," Arthur announced as we reached the large round table at the center of the bridge, but the crew remained focused on their tasks, suggesting that the admiral truly disliked formalities.

"Captain Leon, status report," the admiral said, taking a seat to Arthur's right, as the holographic images of the other captains appeared in the remaining empty chairs.

"Preparations are complete; we're ready to proceed at any time," said the one-eyed German shepherd, adjusting his eyepatch. "We will enter the Dyson Swarm supply window in three minutes, with a ten-minute operation window." A projection of the entire fleet and various data appeared in the center of the round table. "More than enough time," Leon concluded, and the other captains gave their green lights to indicate everything was in order.

The admiral operated his personal terminal and sent the confirmation to Hermes base.

"Confirm all ships have reached their designated positions, energy reception formation complete, and the Emerald is initiating wing deployment," Leon seemed to be gesturing to his bridge crew.

The Emerald, a propulsion ship responsible for receiving energy and distributing it to the other vessels, was equipped with a series of mirror and lens assemblies resembling the wings of some mythical creature, designed to adjust the high-energy lasers transmitted from the Hermes base.

On the projection screen, the propulsion ship unfolded and assembled its massive wings, creating a breathtaking spectacle. The perfect symmetry and numerical beauty of the formation bordered on the sacred.

As the nearby ships opened portions of their armor to reveal receivers, preparing to absorb the energy beams adjusted and transmitted by the power ship, a blue line extended from the table's edge, touching the Emerald, and linking all the ships together.

It's somewhat difficult to imagine the energy collected from the Dyson Swarm around the sun being concentrated at Hermes base and then transmitted as a laser to such a distant location. How blindingly brilliant must that searing, powerful light be when condensed into an energy beam?

Thinking this, I lifted my eyes to the window on the bridge, hoping to witness the spectacle firsthand.

I only saw a portion of the Emerald's mirror assemblies, the darkness of space still vast and unbroken.

"If the observation window didn't filter out that wavelength, we'd all be blind by now," the admiral remarked, turning off the microphone and speaking in a voice only we could hear.

Captain Arthur remained unresponsive, and although the admiral's tone was calm, I still felt a twinge of embarrassment and couldn't help scratching my ear.

At that moment, two red dots appeared on the projection screen, rapidly approaching the fleet from afar.

"Detecting fast-approaching heat signatures. Scanners suggest they're high-energy plasma," the radar officer aboard the cruiser appeared as a hologram on the round table--a fennec fox. "Judging by the energy level, it's likely a Delta-class Phantom."

The admiral grunted, glancing at the countdown for the Dyson Swarm supply window.

"All ships, initiate Level 3 Red Alert. Destroyer squadron, intensify directional radar, find the Phantom mothership," the admiral ordered, and a faint red light enveloped the bridge. He then tapped the round table twice, retrieving a silver metallic device from an open compartment and placing it on his head.

The device resembled the rib cage of some creature, with flat, disc-like structures at the ends and along portions of the ribs. It seemed to be custom-made for the admiral, fitting the white wolf's head perfectly. Several discs made contact at his temples and forehead but did not obstruct his eyes.

"We need to make this quick," he said, glancing at the ticking countdown. "Captain Schneider, you're the only battleship with a clear firing path. How long until the axial cannon system is ready?"

"I was just waiting for you to ask," the doberman's hologram grinned widely.

"Neutron Spear, target the core for direct destruction," the admiral leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. "Arthur, the rest is up to you."

"You all heard the admiral," Captain Arthur said, resting his elbows on the table and placing his chin on his interlocked fingers. "Miller, complete the calculations as quickly as possible. Schneider, fire as soon as conditions permit." Arthur quickly glanced at the admiral, and both the fennec fox and doberman acknowledged the orders.

Then, an orchestral symphony began to play.

Wait, what's going on?

Everyone else seemed unfazed, so I tried to maintain my composure, continuing to stand by the admiral's side. But then I noticed something strange--the flagship seemed to be... vibrating?

Before I could figure out what was happening, something even stranger occurred--the flagship's armor began detaching piece by piece from the hull, floating into space.

Uh, are we disassembling? Isn't the ship's armor supposed to stay in place?

Just as I had this thought, the entire flagship suddenly shuddered. The movement was subtle and brief, and it seemed that no one else noticed. But I was sure it wasn't just my imagination because I saw the admiral clench his fist at that exact moment.

Still filled with questions, I watched as more and more pieces of armor drifted past the observation window, moving as if they had a mind of their own, joining the swirling cluster of armor plates hovering not far from the bridge.

I glanced at the tactical projection on the round table and noticed that the central structure of the flagship near the bridge appeared... slimmer.

"Confirmed attack type: high-energy plasma bolt. Estimated impact in fifteen seconds," Miller reported, and a new countdown appeared on the projection.

"Can the point defense system intercept it?" Arthur asked, and the weapons officer aboard the cruiser immediately responded with a negative. "Alright," he sighed. "Switch to ablative armor mode."

The spinning armor plates reconfigured themselves into two circular planes, each with a complex, root-like structure radiating from the back. These strange new structures then flew out of sight from the bridge.

I turned my attention back to the tactical display and saw the planar structures positioning themselves in the plasma's trajectory.

"Direct hit. Vaporizing coolant being expelled," reported the armor officer on the bridge, a Belgian Malinois whose hologram appeared on the projection. "Twenty percent of the outer armor vaporized. Drones are fully operational."

I heard Arthur quietly exhaling and relaxing slightly. Only then did I realize that the admiral was controlling the drone swarm. The flagship wasn't just a carrier for fighters--the outer armor itself was composed of a massive number of drones.

"Phantom mothership located. Within the Strider's Neutron Spear kill range," Miller reported, and a red sphere appeared at the edge of the table.

"Adjusting ship angle," Schneider tapped his fingernails lightly on the table. For a moment, the only sound in the entire bridge was orchestral music. "Fire!" He slammed his fist onto the table, and the projection even captured the spittle flying from the doberman's mouth.

The bridge fell silent again, every eye fixed on the red sphere.

"Phantom mothership core destroyed. All remaining large Phantoms are retreating," Miller said, wiping his forehead, clearly relieved.

"Captain Leon, please direct me to adjust the drone angles for energy reception," the admiral suddenly spoke, still keeping his eyes closed.

"Uh... Admiral, please..." Arthur gestured to Leon and shook his head slightly. Leon sighed and finished the sentence, "Please receive the drone configuration data."

"Fischer, confirm the energy laser wavelength with Hermes base" Arthur turned back to the Belgian Malinois who had just spoken. "Switch to reflective armor mode."

I watched on the tactical display as the two previously root-attached circular structures disassembled into their basic units, each forming multiple smaller components. These components then assembled around the massive wings of the power ship, gradually rotating in sync with the Emerald's frequency.

This might sound a bit blasphemous, but the sight of the Emerald with its fully deployed wings, the ships connected below it by blue beams, and the geometric formations created by the drones, was emitting an almost religious aura of sanctity.

The hexagon at the pole of Cronus slowly rotated, majestic and vast, while violent, super high-speed storms churned beneath it, silent yet overwhelmingly oppressive. It was as if a higher-dimensional being, beyond our comprehension, was executing a plan far beyond our understanding.

Another striking feature was the massive rings of the planet. From this angle and distance, every gap between the rings was clearly visible, tracing the perfect trajectory of natural laws at work. It was an incredibly beautiful sight, difficult to imagine that it was composed of a collection of ice crystals and small fragments.

Awe--that was probably my most genuine response to the rational marvels of the universe.

I shook my head, recalling my mission.

At this hour, most people were resting, and I only encountered a group of engine crew members who had just finished their shift and were leaving their posts. They greeted me warmly. After a brief response, I turned my attention back to the personal terminal in my paw.

The Archduke of Siberia somehow found my account and sent several five-minute-long morning greeting videos, asking me to pass them on to the admiral. I must say, it was quite thoughtful of him, though I won't comment on the archduke's aesthetic taste.

Upon arriving at the admiral's quarters, I checked the panel information beside the door to confirm that the wolf didn't mind being disturbed--the signal was the usual blue light, indicating everything was normal, and the sound of some string instrument's music was coming from behind the door. But as I raised my paw to open the door, I suddenly remembered that I seemed to have... something urgent to take care of.

What? I had nothing else to handle! All my tasks revolved around this dumb wolf unless I had forgotten to complete some humiliating punishment to meet my fixed hours--but as if I would care about that.

So, I decided to ignore the strange unease and opened the door. Even more interesting, as I delved deeper into the room, the urge to turn around and deal with something grew stronger, along with the increasingly clear music. It was bizarre--I couldn't think of any reasonable explanation, so I decided to thoroughly ignore this illogical, unfounded thought.

If I had indeed forgotten something important, I would just play dumb later--just like I usually did.

Upon entering the admiral's quarters, I saw him standing with his back to me, gesturing in the air. He was still wearing that red uniform, with the coat tails gently fluttering.

Was it my imagination? Artificial gravity should be working...

Then, I noticed another sound. Previously drowned out by the music, but now that I was closer, I could hear it clearly--the sound of objects slicing through the air--several high-speed flying objects tracing elliptical trajectories around the admiral. They were moving too fast to discern their shapes or numbers.

I didn't want to get too close. Getting hit by something moving at that speed would certainly hurt. But perhaps the music was too loud--the admiral didn't respond to my call. I sighed inwardly, recalling the Canine Empire's naval insurance policy, and then took a step forward.

Some kind of... resistance blocked me, preventing me from moving forward.

What?

I raised my paw, slowly pushing it forward as if it were sinking into an invisible gel--dense and sticky. The more I advanced, the stronger the resistance became, making it almost impossible to continue moving forward, but there was no problem retreating.

Damn, what kind of strange situation was this?

A bit annoyed, I called out to the admiral again, but he still didn't respond, continuing to wave his paws in the air. Oh, I got it--he was pretending to conduct the entire symphony.

But that's not the point! Compared to this nearly supernatural situation, the admiral's taste in music was completely irrelevant. If only those damn high-speed objects would stop--maybe without the noise, the admiral would hear my voice.

No sooner had I thought that, the sharp sound of the wind slicing through the air ceased, allowing me to see each geometric solid seemingly frozen in mid-air. Flashing with a metallic sheen, thumb-sized spheres, cylinders, or cones slowly rotated in place as if weightless--was there a problem with the gravity system?

"Private Luther?" The admiral finally seemed to notice my presence, turning around and speaking in a tone of surprise, clearly unable to understand why I was in his quarters.

I was about to open my mouth to sarcastically remark on his brilliant conducting skills, or maybe question his surprise when he called me into his room to handle miscellaneous tasks all the time.

But then, the previously orbiting objects all flew straight toward me with a speed that was sure to pierce through my body, splattering bones and innards ten meters away.

What's going on? Damn it, stop!

With a near-pleading thought and the entire sequence of events flashing before my eyes, dozens of metal objects stopped in front of me, completely still. The closest one was about five centimeters from my eyeball--just a little closer, and my brains would have been splattered.

"You..." The admiral only managed to utter one word before his subsequent syllables turned into a growl, his expression one of utter disbelief.

I noticed the gel-like resistance had vanished, making me feel much more at ease. Besides that, I seemed to be able to sense the presence of every small metal object... They... were right there, within reach. No, not with my paw --more like... my consciousness. They were within the boundary of my consciousness, and I could perceive them with my mind, not my eyes.

Before I could grasp what this meant, the entire process--from my near-brutal demise to this very moment--had only taken about a second. Now, I just wanted these seemingly harmless but actually lethal objects to get away from me.

Not with my paw, but with my mind, I gently pushed them away. I could feel the metal pieces floating within my consciousness, tiny fragments moving away from me as I wanted them to.

Then they collided with a wall.

Unlike the flexible gel from earlier, this was a solid, immovable wall. All the metal objects stopped on the same plane, and my consciousness even felt a slight pain from crashing into that wall.

Consciousness... pain? One new thing after another.

Suddenly, an overwhelming force struck, with the intention of crushing me, causing me to take several steps back. Instinctively, I summoned my willpower to resist, pushing back.

I heard the admiral grunt and noticed all the metal objects between us were crushed into flat shapes.

I still couldn't comprehend what was happening, but like being sucker-punched, I instinctively wanted to protect myself, without pausing to think about the current situation.

I pushed even harder toward the admiral, because no matter how this bizarre scenario played out, I had no intention of ending up like those flattened metal pieces. The wolf stumbled, the shock evident on his face. But he quickly regained his balance, glaring at me, his blue eyes instantly turning crimson.

This sudden change distracted me, loosening my control over my consciousness. Then, as if hit by a transport ship, I was sent flying, crashing into the wall of the quarters, and then fell face-first to the floor, losing consciousness.

"I had the amplifier on, and he almost wrested control from me!" Even in my half-conscious state, that dumb wolf's voice was unmistakable. "And that mutt even bypassed the 'avoidance circle' I set up!" I wasn't sure who he was talking to, but the other party only responded with a burst of laughter.

"You curly-haired bastard! You used the conscription mechanism to bypass rules and sent him directly to me. There's no way this could have been done without cooperation from the top of the German House. I'm sure this violated the rules!" The admiral's tone was unusually angry--I had thought I was the only one who could make him sound like that. "And what are you trying to do?"

"Don't make baseless accusations. I definitely didn't break the rules." This voice sounded familiar. "After all, I wrote the revised version." The admiral responded with a string of very unrefined curses.

Wow, someone's really in a bad mood today.

"I thought the next cohort wouldn't be deployed until next year. Did the schedule change?" The admiral sighed as he asked, seemingly giving up on arguing.

"No, everything is proceeding as usual," the voice replied. "That's also why I sent him to you--he's not a member of the Council."

There was a long silence after that. I heard the admiral tapping his nails on the desk.

"You must be joking," he paused, perhaps waiting for confirmation. "I've been training my psychic abilities ever since I can remember. That mutt may lack technique, but he's nearly as strong as I am." The gray wolf spoke with some agitation, clearly dissatisfied with the answer. "And I'm the most powerful Alpha-level psychic in history--you know what that means, don't you?"

"It means we need to speed things up," the voice replied with a chuckle. "This has taken too long, and the Council is starting to get worried."

"Wasn't the next phase expected to occur only after the Canine Empire collapses?" The admiral began pacing back and forth, the sound of his magnetic boots creating a steady rhythm on the floor.

Collapse of the Canine Empire? What, is the admiral planning a rebellion? Although I have no emotional attachment to the empire and can't see anything wrong with its collapse, it still feels... odd. However, I might be overinterpreting things--passively waiting for the empire's disintegration is different from actively initiating a revolt.

"Besides the fact that predictions are just predictions for a reason, I think we should be humbler. There's still a lot we don't understand about the evolution of natural life and the laws of the universe."

The admiral snorted at this response.

"How many of us are left in this cohort?" I finally managed to pry open my heavy eyelids and saw the gray wolf standing with his back to me, slowly swaying his fluffy white tail as if feeling a bit down.

"Outside of the Canine Empire, I'm not sure. The other end of communications has been quiet for a long time," the voice came from somewhere, but there was no image. "As for within the Empire, besides that one everyone knows about, it's just us and Hunter left." Where have I heard this voice before?

"I swear, if that idiot Husky sends me another good morning video, I'll open a wormhole and disintegrate him down to the atomic level with a neutron spear!" The admiral rubbed his forehead in frustration, eliciting laughter from the other party. "Have the others... passed the torch?" The gray wolf lowered his gaze and asked in a somewhat detached tone.

"No," the response came quickly. "At least, it hasn't been updated in the Council records. It's possible someone has inherited the code but doesn't understand their meaning or intends to act in the shadows." The other party muttered something. "You know, some people prefer to make a dramatic entrance."

"So, you're... implying I should prepare to pass the torch?" The admiral's ears drooped, and his tail stopped moving.

"It wouldn't be called an implication if I said it outright," the voice teased. "And if my most dangerous opponent were absent during the final vote tally, I'd be very upset."

"Do you think he's qualified?" After a long silence, the gray wolf straightened up. "Putting aside the fact that he might become the most powerful psychic in the entire Sol."

Is he talking about me? That title sounds a bit cheesy.

"Absolutely," the voice sounded even more pleased. "Who else in this era would read books? He even played a Les Misérables gag on me."

At this point, a scent memory of urine somehow slipped into my consciousness, but I couldn't connect the smell with that voice.

The admiral's reaction to this answer was an even longer silence, filled only with the sound of his nails tapping on a hard surface.

"I'll consider it," he finally said.

"You'll at least train him, right? I don't want your last bad experience to affect your decision."

I was getting close to remembering where I'd heard that voice before.

"Of course I will," the admiral scratched his ear. "It's my responsibility." I detected a hint of regret in his tone.

"Oh, don't give me that," the voice mocked, and the admiral only responded with a grunt. "Oh, by the way, there's another good reason I sent this mutt to you."

"Hmm?" The gray wolf tilted his head and perked up his right ear.

"Let's call it... a surprise." The voice said with a laugh. "Don't thank me too much when the time comes."

The admiral muttered something under his breath, which made the other party laugh uproariously. Then that voice recited something in a language I didn't recognize, and the admiral replied in the same language before waving his paw, seemingly to cut off the communication.

"How much did you hear?" The white wolf walked over to me and asked. Even though I had shut my eyes tightly to pretend I was asleep, it was clear I hadn't fooled him.

"Uh... I'm not sure, sir," I said as I sat up, realizing I was lying in the admiral's bed. "Something about disintegrating someone down to atoms?" I think I'll hold off on mentioning the new good morning video.

"Anyway, I think I owe you some explanation," the wolf pulled up a chair and sat down beside the bed. "But first, we need to start your training." He looked at me with his piercing blue eyes. "You don't realize how dangerous what you did was, both for yourself and others."

I could only nod in response to that serious gaze. "Uh, so how should we begin?" Unable to bear direct eye contact with the white wolf, I awkwardly turned my head, focusing on the blanket covering me. "Sir?" I quickly added, not wanting to add more deck-cleaning duties due to disrespecting a superior.

"Perhaps," he said slowly, barring his white canine teeth. That made me feel a bit pressured, but I forced myself not to care. "We could start by getting to know each other. When it's just us, don't call me sir anymore. I'm Richter the gray wolf, and you are?" He extended his right paw toward me.

"Luther... the mutt," I replied, shaking the paw he offered.

"Luther," he repeated slowly, and a red flash crossed his blue eyes. "Welcome to the other side of the world."

It turns out the other side of the world has more stars.

"Quick question," I was lifted off the ground and tossed toward the ceiling. "What's the simplest way to distinguish which House an Imperial fleet belongs to?"

"Uh..." It's hard to think when your head feels like it's being crushed. "The type of flagship is different." The responsibilities of the nine Archdukes vary, and this is reflected in the flagship of each House.

"Wrong answer." The thrust disappeared, and I plummeted toward the floor. In my panic, I barely managed to gather enough focus to soften the impact. "By the time you see the flagship's function, you're already dead." I let out a pleading cry as I struggled to get up. "Ten propulsion ships, each with a gemstone embedded in the bow difference from each House." Another surge of force slammed me into the wall, and I cried out in pain. "Your reaction just now wasn't bad. Pushing 'yourself' isn't easy to control; there's a vast chasm between the laws of consciousness and the laws of physics." Richter is strict, but at least he's fair.

"How did you... master it?" I propped myself up against the wall, struggling against the pressure while mustering the will to resist.

"As I said before," he raised his paw and waved it twice as if carelessly. "I've been practicing for as long as I can remember." He suddenly shifted his stance, and the pressure holding me down vanished, sending me flying toward the opposite wall, where I slammed face-first before collapsing to the ground. "You're very strong--given time, you'll undoubtedly become an invincible psychic." I lay on my back, panting, as I heard him walk over to me. "But technique needs practice, and that's what you lack the most."

He kindly allowed me ten seconds to rest.

"Why do I need the armor officer or Arthur to help me change the drone's armor mode?" I was thrown up again, and the weightlessness at the peak made me feel a bit dizzy.

"To lighten the burden?" I guessed, steadying myself and achieving a floating state. It felt rather strange.

"Exactly. While I could handle it myself, it would consume a lot of mental energy." Once again, I was pressed towards the floor, but this time, I was prepared and successfully resisted the pressure, managing to stay upright as I landed back on the ground. "Especially with a little troublemaker like you distracting me." My right knee, left shoulder, and left cheek were suddenly struck by a barrage of blows, catching me off guard and leaving me in a twisted, ridiculous stance. "Haven't I told you before? When confronting another psychic, always maintain your consciousness domain to prevent them from directly attacking you with their consciousness?" While trying to regain my balance, I erected my consciousness domain, or "self-circle." "But you can't neglect your physical domain's 'defensive circle' either, or else even simple, brute-force punches and kicks can take down a powerful psychic." My chin was kicked from the side by the white wolf's raised leg, sending me flying and spinning several times in mid-air.

I landed face down, groaning uncontrollably, watching my nosebleed drip onto the floor. To make matters worse, I'd have to clean the floor after training was over.

"I think you're being too harsh, sir." A pair of boots stopped right in front of my nose. I hadn't even noticed when Captain Arthur had entered; it was hard to focus on anything else when you were being beaten to a pulp. "Luther clearly... needs a lot more preparation." I lifted my head to see him quickly swiping through his personal terminal with his finger, likely reviewing my dismal performance records from the training sessions.

"My mentor broke my arms to teach me how to finely control my powers. I had to wear casts for six months without relying on regenerative medical pods to heal." I was lifted up, suspended in front of Richter. Struggling, I managed to raise my head and meet his crimson eyes. "So when it comes to being too harsh..." He suddenly stopped, his expression frozen, and the room fell silent except for the sound of my nosebleed dripping onto the floor. "Heal yourself. You've been taught how to stop bleeding." The red light in white wolf's eyes faded, returning to their usual blue, and I was lowered back to the ground. "You're stronger than me in terms of raw power." I searched inward, locating the bleeding point and began applying pressure. "But practical application or combat is vastly different from a mere contest of strength." He turned his head to look at Captain Arthur, tilting his head slightly and raising his right ear.

"I happen to have some training suggestions that could assist Private Luther." The German shepherd turned to look at me, his large brown eyes appearing moist and gleaming. "Perhaps we should start... with the beginner's level." After the captain finished speaking, Richter also turned to look at me, seemingly considering the proposal.

"...Beginner's level my ass," I muttered to myself as I dragged my aching body into the mess hall, massaging my swollen eye while limping slightly. As I picked up a tray, I noticed the unusually quiet atmosphere and the sympathetic looks everyone was giving me--some even let me cut in line.

Has it really only been six months? Did they miss me that much? I didn't realize I was this popular.

After stating my request to the food synthesizer, I was presented with a green, gelatinous cube. I sighed, taking it as a sign that even it was happy to see me.

I found Ian and the others at their usual table, where the Golden Retriever* made room for me.

"If you want, you can have mine," Abel offered, pushing his tray towards me after eyeing my gelatin cube.

I shook my head, grateful for his kindness, but the sudden movement caused a wave of pain to course through my body, and I couldn't help but hiss in discomfort.

"Enough, this is too much!" José slammed the table with such force that the already quiet mess hall fell into complete silence. "This is beyond any reasonable disciplinary action. If that damn white wolf has a problem, he should come at me directly! I don't care if he's one of the top ten in the empire; I'll still knock his teeth out..." Coyote’s rant was abruptly interrupted when Ian grabbed his snout, nervously glancing towards the midshipman section, where everyone was studiously pretending not to have heard a thing, continuing to eat their meals.

"This is mutiny, it's not just a flogging you'll get!" Ian only released José after he finally calmed down, settling back into his seat. "Besides, everyone knows the admiral is the Empire's Premier Swordsman. If you try to challenge him, you're going to die in the most pathetic way possible."

Oh, our multi-talented admiral--Arthur had explained to me before that a psychic's heightened senses give them a significant advantage in combat, but I wasn't trained well enough to utilize my body's potential. I couldn't quite grasp where this conversation was headed, so I just scooped up a chunk of the gelatin and put it in my mouth, looking at José with a puzzled expression.

"The maintenance crew told us they've seen you pass out in the admiral's room multiple times, with blood all over the floor!" The Coyote clenched his fists on the table, his body trembling slightly.

"We didn't believe it at first. The admiral has a reputation, and nothing like this has ever happened before. But after you went more than six months without leave, we started noticing some odd signs," Abel said in a detached voice, twirling his fork into his noodles. "Bruises, broken bones, countless contusions... You've even maxed out the regeneration medical pod's usage limits." The Fox murmured, the fork scraping against the plate with a grating sound. "Even the Marquis of New York, known for his sadistic tendencies, wasn't this excessive." He was talking about the Grand Duchy of Golden's heir, right? I'd heard some rumors before.

"To be practical, even if by some miracle, you file a complaint and the Imperial Court rules in your favor, you can kiss your career in the Empire goodbye." Ian whispered, his head lowered. "I know some people who might be able to get you transferred to another ship or even another fleet..."

I was about to interrupt Ian to tell him I had no idea what they were talking about, but suddenly, the aftertaste of the green gelatin hit me--sharp and spicy, making my tongue and mouth go numb and swell, tears streaming down my face.

Caught off guard by this sudden development, Ian looked down, ashamed, while Abel turned towards me, pulling me into a tight hug, causing me to swallow the gelatin in my mouth. The burning sensation immediately spread from my stomach.

"I'm going to have a word with that white mutt..." José trailed off, looking a bit embarrassed. "No offense," he apologized to me. "I'm going to tell that bastard exactly what I think!" He stood up, dusting off his clothes as the others turned their gazes away.

"What exactly are you planning to say, Private First Class José?" It was during a rare break, so I was so relaxed that I had dropped my consciousness domain and hadn't noticed Captain Arthur entered the mess hall.

"Permission to speak freely, sir!" José violated mess hall etiquette by saluting the captain--a gesture with a hint of defiance. The atmosphere became even more tense, but no one seemed inclined to leave.

"Permission granted," Arthur replied, raising one eyebrow.

"The rumors about the admiral being a cuckold and the Marquis Berlin being a bastard were all spread by me. Please don't take it out on Private Luther!" José's body trembled slightly; I couldn't tell if it was from fear or anger. "I can't imagine what the admiral did to make Luther cry like this! But please understand, even us lower-class commoners have pride!"

Wait, what?

I wiped away the tears that showed no sign of stopping, wanting to prevent this farce from turning into a tragedy, but my tongue hurt too much to speak.

"I'm not sure I understand what you're talking about," Captain Arthur tilted his head slightly. "Private Luther, sign for your new terminal." He handed me a personal terminal, and I placed my finger on the screen to register it. I remembered that last week, during training, my old one had been crushed by Richter.

But why would something like this require the captain's personal attention?

Abel suddenly widened his eyes and gasped, letting me know that this wasn't just any ordinary terminal.

"If you have any concerns, you can raise them at the quarterly meeting," Captain Arthur said to José. "And I believe Private Luther is crying because of the wasabi-flavored gelatin." The German shepherd nodded to the others in acknowledgment before turning and leaving the mess hall.

After the mess hall door closed, José sat down, looking somewhat deflated, while the others started whispering among themselves, likely discussing the captain's unexpected visit.

"What's wasabi?" The Coyote asked, scooping up a piece of my gelatin and popping it into his mouth.

I wanted to stop him, but I still couldn't speak, only managing to make various inarticulate sounds.

"Oh, Rationalism above, what is this stuff?" José jumped up, tears streaming from his eyes as he bolted for the restroom.

"Well, that was awkward," Ian scratched his head. "So, what's special about that terminal? Why did the captain personally deliver it to Luther?"

The fox pursed his lips, thinking for a moment before finally deciding to answer.

"That's an Alpha-class terminal." Abel turned his gaze back to his plate, and said nothing more.

The surrounding area fell into silence again, and I could feel everyone's eyes on me once more, but this time, the air was thick with shock.

"That's a terminal given to someone of at least the captain's rank!" Ian whispered, though given the silence, I'm sure everyone heard him clearly. "Luther, what exactly is going on between you and the admiral? This isn't some kind of... deal to keep you quiet, is it?"

"Ian!" Abel scolded, causing the Golden Retriever to turn his head, looking even more ashamed than before.

I had wanted to get some water, but I wasn't sure what kind of trick the machine might play on me, so I waited a while until my tongue hurt less, and José had returned to his seat before I started to speak.

"As bad as it looks," and it really did look bad, but emphasizing that didn't seem to help the situation, "I'm not being abused. The admiral isn't the type to do that." My response visibly relieved Ian and Abel, but José still looked at me with a skeptical expression.

"To put it simply, the admiral is training me..." I began to explain what had been happening over the past few months, recounting the cover story we had agreed upon.

The panel in the admiral's living quarters displayed a red light, indicating that he didn't wish to be disturbed. However, I had already set up permission to enter, so the doors slid open as I approached.

"I heard about what happened in the mess hall..." The white wolf, his back turned to me, busied himself with something, tilting his head as if searching for the right word. "Incident," he finally said with a shrug. "Should I be worried about a mutiny on the flagship?"

"No, I think everyone bought into the story." It turned out that people had somewhat heard about how the pedigree House used marriages to absorb mutt and repair their bloodlines. "Now, everyone's just speculating on which German House's marriageable-age girl is so 'lucky.'" The memory of those mocking expressions made me roll my eyes, but Richter found it amusing and let out a chuckle.

"As I said before, if you really intend to go that route, I wouldn't oppose it," he said, finishing what he was doing and turning to face me. Several small metal cubes floated beside him. "But I advocate for the freedom to love, so go ahead and pursue that 'lucky marriageable girl' with your own abilities." He walked toward me, his gaze shifting as if recalling something. "And I know that those in the family are quite particular."

"Oh..." Become a noble? That was something I had never considered. "I don't have that thought at the moment." Richter waved off my response, not taking it seriously. "Also, it might be best to avoid letting others stumble upon a blood-soaked scene like that again--it's a bit too easily misunderstood." I caught the cubes he suddenly tossed to me with my willpower, but a few slipped, hitting my chest. The blood on the metal cubes soaked into my shirt, leaving a red stain. "And it's really hard to clean," I said with a bit of grievance.

"Not getting along with machines?" he teased, walking over to a cabinet and pressing a few buttons.

"Yeah..." I recalled various disasters. "Last time, the washing machine in the laundry room completely disintegrated my clothes." It left me with only one change of clothing.

"For some reason, machines with disassembly and reassembly functions always tend to malfunction around psychics," the cabinet slid open and rearranged itself, pushing out a white, square device. "Especially the stronger the psychic, the more pronounced it is. So I suggest you avoid these kinds of machines." He extended a paw behind his back while pressing something on the white device with his other paw. "Give me your shirt."

"So that's why you insist on boiling water to brew coffee?" I removed my shirt and handed it to Richter. He glanced at the red stain before tossing the shirt into the machine. "I thought that was just some 'commitment to taste' of yours." I tried not to sound too sarcastic.

"That's one reason, but coffee brewed with different methods really does taste different," he said as the machine started to hum. "You probably can't find these old relics anymore. Back then, I almost had to ask the Council to send one over because the washing machines kept making my pockets disappear or doing other bizarre things," Richter said, tilting his head.

"Knowing I'm not the only one with this trouble is somewhat comforting," I replied, scratching my ear.

"So..." Richter turned around, suddenly freezing in place with a raised eyebrow. "...no wonder others might think I'm abusing you." He cleared his throat, then turned back to the machine, pressing something on it. "Sorry I didn't notice earlier." He sounded a bit awkward, which was unlike him.

"Uh...what?" I didn't quite understand how he reached that conclusion.

"Anyway, let's continue last month's lesson," he said, still facing away from me. "The definition of the self." I felt him tugging at the metal cubes, and I resisted as trained. However, the ones stained with his blood were particularly difficult to control, while those with my blood were the opposite. "A part of the body is the easiest to perceive and acknowledge as 'self,' and blood is far more useful than hair." He increased the pulling force, but I managed to prevent him from taking the cubes away. "The effect of organs isn't as good as blood--please don't ask me how I know this," he said, curling his left paw and increasing the force dramatically. I barely held on. "So in battles between psychics, this is often used to disrupt or at least compress the opponent's consciousness domain." The metal cubes stained with his blood pressed closer to me, causing my consciousness domain to shrink, which in turn weakened my control over the other cubes. "Central principle--the closer an object is to the edge of the consciousness domain, the more power is required to Dominate it, so compressing the domain can effectively impact the opponent's output."

The small cubes stopped moving, no longer compressing my domain. I noticed that today Richter was either deliberately going easy on me or was very distracted, as his output was much lower than usual.

"Psychics not from the Council are unlikely to know these techniques," he said, hunching over and resting his elbows on the white machine, looking somewhat dispirited. "So, fighting against psychics isn't something you need to prioritize, but it never hurts to be prepared." He sighed, stood up straight, and turned to look at me. "I'm clearly not at my best today, so let's stop here, okay?"

"Oh...okay." I wasn't sure what was wrong with Richter, but I nodded in agreement and released my consciousness domain.

He tossed the metal cubes into the sink.

"You're bleeding from your nose again," he said, a bit exasperated. "You're really not good at this, are you?"

"Ah, sorry." I quickly searched internally, finding the bleeding point and applying pressure.

Richter leaned back against the white machine, his paws resting on top of it. I heard the rhythmic tapping of his nails against the metal surface, then he glanced at the machine's panel.

"Your clothes will take a while to finish washing," he said, as if making a big decision, taking a deep breath. "Today, I'll teach you something else."

He gestured for me to come closer, then waved his paw over the cabinet, and a large flat mirror slid out from the side.

"Average psychics, because they've mastered such unimaginable power, often overlook many important things." He stood next to me, and the mirror reflected our images.

I had been so exhausted lately that I hadn't had the energy to groom myself--not that I ever really cared--but I really hadn't looked in the mirror for a while. My swollen eye, paired with my unkempt and split-ended fur, made me look truly disheveled. And the unceasing nosebleed added a tragic element to the scene.

But I noticed something else--the sharply defined muscles, so chiseled they seemed angular, visible even through the fur. I’ve gained ten kilograms over the past year. I'd thought it was just a growth spurt or something, but clearly, Arthur's training had a significant impact.

"Knowledge is power," Richter said softly, poking my chest and ribs. I nearly yelped--it hurt! He wasn't even pressing hard, but it was so painful! "How does the defense circle determine what harmful things to block and what essential things--like air--to let through?" White wolf lightly touched a few more places, and I couldn't help but hiss in pain. "It's knowledge. The defense circle blocks what we perceive or 'consider' harmful, so knowledge is equivalent to power." His fingers brushed over the fur on my abdomen, sending a ticklish sensation that made me shiver.

"I'll give you an example: The principle of the regenerative medical chamber is to activate cells, allowing them to repair themselves, limited by the individual's own tolerance, hence the usage limit per unit time." He frowned slightly as he continued, "Dark fur can easily conceal bruises or severe subcutaneous bleeding. These minor injuries wouldn't normally be an issue, but for someone who has reached the usage limit of a regenerative medical chamber, it's a different story."

Richter moved his wrist, slowly curling his little finger, then his ring finger and middle finger. I felt a warm current pulsing through my body.

"You need to understand the structure of blood vessels, the composition of the body, even the mechanisms of chemical reactions, to efficiently control them. Psychic abilities can be used to perform more refined treatments at the cellular or even atomic level, rather than simply applying physical pressure to stop bleeding." As the warmth intensified, Richter's eyes turned red. "No, your existence circle is too strong; I can't interfere directly," he shook his head and said, his eyes turning back to blue. "Connect with me," Richter said after a moment of thought.

"Uh... what?" I wasn't quite sure what he wanted me to do.

"Open up to me, accept me," he said, almost chanting. "Reveal ourselves, our truest selves, to each other."

I couldn't fully grasp what he was trying to express, but something in those blue eyes made me swallow my doubts. It was a plea, almost desperate.

"This is the true purpose of psychic abilities," Richter continued to murmur. "Not for fighting, not for domination. It's to break down barriers, to trust and understand one another."

The air around us vibrated. I met those blue eyes and felt the intent Richter wanted to convey--an invitation, an invitation to explore an unknown world together. I could feel it, a trembling in my chest, a deep, undeniable longing.

But I had no idea how to respond to him. Richter had said that our consciousness of our physical existence--our bodies--was within our "existence circle," the most powerful and inviolable part of the conscious realm, something that other psychics couldn't typically interfere with.

So, how could I connect with Richter? Removing the boundaries of the self, the shackles of the physical body, would leave us without form, without identity. Perhaps expanding the boundaries of the self, incorporating the other into it, was the way.

Carefully, I began to extend myself bit by bit, letting my consciousness reach out like tendrils toward Richter, until I encountered a barrier. It was something, some insurmountable boundary, that I assumed was what kept individuals distinct, the basis of my own existence.

How could we cross this barrier and reach the other side? What allows us to transcend ourselves, to break through the impossible limits?

I think I found the answer in those impossibly blue eyes.

The boundary disappeared, and our conscious realms touched, merged, and became one.

The low hum of machinery ceased, and the surrounding scenery vanished, leaving only us, existing within each other's consciousness. It was boundless darkness, but within it, there was a glimmer of blue.

If I listened closely, the void wasn't entirely silent; there were two rhythmic pulses--our heartbeats. Beyond that, there were... memories? I could feel Richter's memories and thoughts within the conscious realm, right there, within reach.

Another sensation was... the physical body. It wasn't just the mind; I could clearly feel every tiny sensation in Richter's body, as if it were my own. This was probably why I could hear his heartbeat.

It was an indescribably unique experience. Our breathing, the scent in the air, even the movement of hair strands--all shared and open to each other without reservation.

And finally, there were the emotions, the most genuine, unmasked feelings of the moment.

Joy, tinged with curiosity, like proudly showing off a precious collection of pup.

"So..." I found that I could speak in this state, and my voice was quite clear. "You say this is the true purpose of psychic abilities?" I noticed my form was gradually taking shape, reflecting my current physical state--shirtless, with one swollen eye.

"Yes." Richter's voice came through, his outline starting to take the form of a white wolf, emerging from those blue eyes. "At least, that's how I understand it." He appeared as he did in the physical world, wearing that red uniform of an admiral.

"Is this real?" I patted my cheeks and hesitantly pinched Richter's face, causing him to tilt his head slightly, apparently amused.

"You could say that." His explanation was a bit vague, but I could understand because the sensation was so real. "This state has several known characteristics," he continued to explain. "Shared perception and memories, as you've probably noticed."

I nodded, glancing at Richter's memories again. I didn't think it would be polite to rummage through them, so I didn't touch anything.

"When we connect, we can't lie," he squinted, looking me up and down. "For example..." Oh no, was he going to play truth or dare? "That time you put salt in my coffee, did you really mix up the salt and sugar?"

"It... it was really a mistake!" I hadn't even finished speaking before a wave of intense shame nearly overwhelmed me. I was sure Richter felt it too, as he smiled, making me want to bury my face in my paws, but it was clear that covering my eyes wouldn't help now.

"I should clarify. It's not that we can't lie, but we can't hide anything." His smile was genuinely beautiful. "But we can remain silent," he added. "Now, you can ask me a question, to make it fair."

"You..." I was a bit afraid this would offend Richter, but the urge to tease him won out. "Do you really have a cuckolding fetish?"

"Yes," he said, his smile fading, ears drooping as he looked at the ground. "It's the only way I can get excited; I'm just that kind of depraved wolf."

Although it wasn't the first time Richter had confessed something a bit... shocking to me, I was still taken aback. Until a sense of something being off crept in, and Richter suddenly burst out laughing.

"Oh, Rationalism above, the look on your face," he laughed until tears formed at the corners of his eyes. "So, do you understand now?" Richter finally asked after catching his breath.

I shook my head, unsure of what he meant.

"We can tell when the other is lying, but we can choose to remain silent or not reveal the truth." Richter raised a finger to emphasize. "Connection only removes the barriers to communication, but the most important thing, is still our own will." He pointed to his heart. "And one more thing to note, 'connection' is only possible when all conscious barriers are removed; we've exposed our most vulnerable bellies to each other." He suddenly poked my side, making me flinch. "So, when 'connecting' with a psychic, if you sense even the slightest malicious intent from them, you must sever the connection immediately"

Does this mean that connecting with non-psychics is also possible?

"As for its practical uses--what can 'connection' be used for?" He walked up to me and said. "The most common use is sharing knowledge or skills, which I'll demonstrate in a moment." His finger slowly moved, and I felt that warm flow again. "Hopefully, you won't need to manipulate emotions or memories, but when you need to block your own memories, giving the key to someone else ensures you don't accidentally unlock them."

"Why would I need to block my own memories?" I asked curiously, but I felt the darkness rising in Richter's heart at the question.

"Let's just say--some things are better left forgotten, for everyone's sake," he sighed, shaking his head to dispel the negative thoughts. "Or it could simply be to keep a secret. This kind of memory block can only be unlocked by the keyholder, so it can be very useful in certain situations." He tilted his head as if considering something. "It's said to be similar to the feeling of blacking out from drinking too much, but that's not the focus today."

The warmth running through me grew even hotter. "Because you've opened your conscious to me, so I can..." Richter's right index finger gently traced the swollen side of my face, and the warm energy flowed through, making the swelling disappear.

"Wow." I lightly pressed the corner of my eye to check. "That's pretty convenient, comparable to a portable medical pod."

"Don't get it wrong; this is much more powerful than a medical pod." Richter huffed, sounding a bit displeased. "But if you don't have professional knowledge, definitely don't mess around." His finger traced along my collarbone, across my chest, down my ribs, and to my side. "Just the blood vessels alone have the endothelium, the muscle layer, and the blood cells within... Controlling things on a cellular level--if you get even one part wrong, the consequences would be disastrous." He continued to treat the bruises, and I felt the lumps disappear one by one, with a tingling sensation spreading through me, making me shiver. Richter chuckled. "Almost done."

I didn't want to admit it, but that smile made the blood rush to my head, and I could clearly feel my ears burning. Richter awkwardly cleared his throat, and I finally noticed the rapid, pounding heartbeat that seemed to shake the space around us. No... it wasn't just my heartbeat; it was... ours.

Not knowing how to respond to this situation, I turned my head to the side, looking into the infinitely extending darkness.

"So... um, is there any difference in how it feels to tell the truth?" I tried my best to ask casually, hoping to change the subject.

"Ah," Richter paused for a few seconds, perhaps contemplating how to proceed. "It might be easier to just show you directly." He cleared his throat again. "Your undisciplined, childish, and reckless antics always make me feel more alive than ever before."

My ears involuntarily stood up straight, and my eyes darted around. A certain... warmth blossomed in my chest, but I suspected that wasn't the usual effect of telling the truth. Or maybe it was the exact effect of speaking honestly.

By Rationalism itself! It seemed there was only one way to find out.

"I like your eyes," I resolved, taking a deep breath before turning to meet Richter's gaze. "That indescribable shade of blue is the most beautiful thing I've seen in the entire universe." Those perfect, incomparable wolf eyes.

There was no sense of discomfort or any other peculiar sensation, the kind one might expect when lying. So telling the truth doesn't produce any special effects. How fascinating.

But perhaps what was even more intriguing was the wild resonance of our hearts.

"Oh... thank you." Richter didn't look away, and we continued to stare at each other. I could clearly see my reflection in those blue eyes. "Someone else once said..."

He seemed about to say more, but by Rationalism itself, I did the only logical thing--I kissed that foolish wolf, cutting him off before he could continue rambling.

We shared our feelings, exploring each other. Everything in the boundless darkness exploded, turning into the purest light.

The sparking cake made me a bit uneasy. Fur is highly flammable, and I can't help but wonder what the inventor of fireworks as celebration tools was thinking.

"Private First Class Luther, time to cut the cake!" José said with a grin, handing me the knife.

As I sliced through the cake, I found a shoulder insignia embedded in the pudding filling.

"Oh, you guys," I said with a hint of insincerity. "You're all so thoughtful." There's a serious hygiene issue here.

"It's just a small tradition of the Empire's Heart," Ian shrugged, accepting the cake after I cut it. "New recruits officially shed their rookie status after participating in their first flagship landing ceremony."

"So, I was the only recruit boarding the ship during the last ceremony?" I guessed, given there were no other celebratory groups. I continued distributing the cake, not intending to have any myself.

"The Empire's Heart doesn't often take on new recruits," Ian explained. "There are quite a few on other ships; for example, the Vibrant has ten of your batch." The big yellow dog paused, seemingly recalling something. "Although, I suppose ranks might not mean much to you..."

"Rationalism, they grow up so quickly!" José said, hugging Abel and speaking with a mock sorrowful tone. "Next voyage, our mutt Luther will be a noble!" Abel returned the hug, patting José's back but rolling his eyes at the others, eliciting friendly laughter from those around.

"Do you think they'll accept my cake?" I tried to change the subject, glancing at the table of the midshipmen, where the atmosphere was also quite lively.

"They'll just become insufferable bureaucratic asses. Better to keep your distance," José said, sticking out his tongue, only to get a sharp look from Ian. "What? As if I said something wrong." José defended himself, mimicking a commanding officer's orders in a comically exaggerated way, causing more laughter.

"Low-ranking officers are insignificant compared to the nobility of the German House, right?" José said, lying back on the table and grabbing my collar with a pitiable look. "Don't forget us when you make it big, alright?"

I struggled to resist, trying to keep our lips from touching.

"I can shine your shoes or pour your tea. If you also have a fetish for cuckold, I'm more than willing to go through everything for you. I have a few candidates for you to consider," José suddenly became serious. "I've heard that Countess Ava from the Belgian House owns a large estate and has a sizable..."

"Ugh!" I pushed the coyote away as far as possible, but he stubbornly held onto my paw, planting a flurry of kisses on my knuckles.

"Rationalism above, José," Ian couldn't take it anymore and placed his paw on his forehead. "Even by your standards, this is too disgusting."

"Hey!" The coyote put on a serious expression. "A cuckold fetish shouldn't be discriminated against; everyone should respect each other!"

"Rationality bear witness, I'm really starting to want to see you get flogged," Abel said with a disgusted gesture, starting on his cake.

"I should start selling tickets," I shrugged as I handed out the last piece of cake.

"The protagonist has to have cake!" José said, his words muffled by a mouthful of cake. I decided to act like I didn't hear.

"Seriously, Luther," Ian turned to me. "Have you decided on someone yet?"

"Uh... I've never really known how to explain this to everyone, so I've let people assume that I'm going to marry into the German House--for the most part, it doesn't seem too far from the truth, does it?"

For some reason, this thought made my ears feel hot. Seeing my reaction, José burst into laughter, spraying cake everywhere.

"Private First Class Luther, report to Alpha Section One on the port side immediately." the terminal chimed in.

I never thought I'd want to kiss my own terminal. I also thought Alpha-class terminals would be more polite.

"Sorry, everyone," I stood up, apologizing. "Duty calls." I quickly bid farewell and accepted congratulations.

José spread his fingers wide, pretending to hold something in front of his chest with both paws, making the lip shape as if saying 'sizable'.

I sighed in resignation, ignoring him.

On my way to the command room, I felt a gentle tug at the edge of my consciousness. "Over here," Richter's soothing voice flowed through me like a warm current. I quickly looked up, scanning around to make sure no one saw me with red ears, grinning like an idiot in the corridor.

"Although I appreciate you rescuing me from that awkward situation, I really think you should stop abuse your power for personal purposes," I complained to Richter once we were in the admiral's quarters, gesturing to my personal terminal.

"Bite me," he said with a teasing tone. "Who's going to stop me? I'm the fleet admiral."

To express my dissatisfaction, as he wished, I lightly bit the white wolf's ear, causing him to emit a low groan.

"Hey, hey, hey," he laughed, pushing me away, but I could tell it took a lot of willpower. "Nobody eats the main course before the appetizers."

I followed his gesture to the table, which had a silver dome cover, two plates, and two chairs beside the dining table.

"Don't tell me you made this yourself?" Since I was responsible for Richter's meals, I knew the kitchen hadn't sent anything today, making it clear that Richter must have cooked dinner himself.

"You could say that." He smiled mysteriously.

Damn, I had no resistance to that smile.

"I didn't expect you to be into this sort of thing." I wouldn't admit it, but it was somewhat touching.

He merely smiled at my comment, pulling out my chair and sitting down. Then Richter lifted the dome cover to reveal our dinner.

"Oh, Rationalism above!" I couldn't say anything else, my nose tingling and my vision blurring.

It was a green gelatinous cube that even wobbled slightly due to the impact as we sat down. Next to the jelly was an amorphous pink substance with an undulating shape.

"Even the taste is exactly the same," I wiped away my tears and swallowed the wasabi-flavored gelatin.

"You really should see my first ten creations," Richter shivered. "The seventh one took me ten minutes to completely kill."

"Must have been a tough opponent," I said seriously, tasting the coffee set aside, only to spit it out immediately.

"Adding salt doesn't suit it, does it?" He grinned maliciously, using a napkin to absorb the small brown droplets floating in front of him.

"You really have no sense of humor," I complained, wiping my mouth.

"I thought this was a display of humor," he defended himself.

I was about to retort, but was interrupted by the mechanical voice of the announcement.

"Black alert warning, entering Gaia buffer zone in ten minutes..."

I glanced at the green jelly and the pink goo, and a thought began to form.

"You know..." I covered the dish back up, activated the magnetic feature on the table, and pushed the utensils aside. "I actually wanted to start with an appetizer." I forced myself to suppress a smile and the blood rushing to my ears, sitting at the table with my paws behind me. Richter tilted his head, giving me a questioning look with his blue eyes. "I heard... that enjoying it in zero gravity has a special flavor." My mouth betrayed me, curving upward. "If you can wait ten minutes."

Richter scratched his ear, and I could even see the blush beneath his fur. "Well..." He met my gaze, slowly tilting his head to the other side, folding his ears down. "I have an alternative." The white wolf gently placed his paw on my knee, and his eyes instantly turned bright red.

Solar prominences erupted, sending searing torrents of plasma into space, churning and roiling with relentless grandeur.

"Hey, focus!" The voice of Richter came through the speaker next to my visor, yanking me out of the breathtaking sight as he pulled on the communication line between us.

"Sorry!" I shook my head and awkwardly navigated the ship's armor using my magnetic boots. My first spacewalk was nothing like I had imagined.

"Keep your defense circle up," he reminded me again. "The particles and radiation from the flare will shred you down to the molecular level."

"Then why are we out here..." I complained, silently praying that the flickering lights along the edge of my defense circle, like static electricity, were just my imagination.

"The comm relay had some issues," he said, gesturing to an open panel on the ship's hull. Richter crouched down to work on it. "It's crucial for tachyon communications and drone command. We need it to be operational." Richter checked the parameters, muttering to himself. "Especially since we're so close to the Gaia Buffer Zone. I don't want the crew taking any risks." So you decided to let us take risks. What kind of risks? "And this thing is made of adamantine... it shouldn't..."

"Adamantine?" I didn't think I'd heard that material before. Though speaking of tachyon communications, I'd received countless good morning videos from the Archduke Siberian this morning. It was quite an extraordinary display of persistence over the past five years.

"Oh, sorry." Richter chuckled a bit. "Adamanium alloy." He restored the panel and stood up. "There was a bit of a feud between the Fantasia and Anime factions over it, but I'll explain it to you later."

Richter occasionally brought up things only "Council members" would understand, and I had gotten used to it. I extended consciousness send him an image I shrug.

"No!" He staggered, turning to shout at me. "Seal off immediately..." Everything vanished in that instant. "...Luther!"

In the boundless darkness, I could not perceive my own existence--no form, no sensation. Yet I knew it wasn't the loss of existence itself but the overwhelming insignificance in comparison to another "existence."

What is this...?

I could sense, even from a staggering distance, beyond the detectable universe, an entity of immense magnitude.

How had I not noticed this before? Or how could anyone has missed it?

Resonance. The other presence detected me. That colossal entity, with a hint of... curiosity, instantaneously understood everything about me, from my organs to the particles at the tips of my hair.

With a sense of reverence and fear, I reached out to it, only to encounter resistance and a faint trace of amusement.

"Don't rush." The presence communicated in a way I could comprehend, gently pushing me back. "The time is not yet right."

The presence withdrew, and the disturbances it left behind plunged me deeper into chaos. Without direction, space lost its meaning; void became everything, and all returned to oblivion.

"Luther!"

Amidst the absolute darkness, a streak of blue guided me.

I jerked upright, emerging from the indescribable vision, gasping for air. Once I recovered, I looked around.

The airlock had been pressurized, and Richter removed my visor, sitting beside me and using a small flashlight to examine my pupils.

"I should have warned you beforehand," he said, turning off the flashlight. "But congratulations, you've confirmed that you're the first Omega-level psychic discovered in the Sol." Richter sighed, gently cradling my head and meeting my gaze. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, the overwhelming shock still made me feel a bit unsettled, though it was mostly psychological.

"I need to inform the Council, but..." He turned away, scratching his ear, looking quite hesitant.

"What was that?" I finally managed to ask, and the white wolf's expression indicated he knew exactly what I meant.

"To manage the scope of memory compression if needed..." Richter looked down at the floor, resting his elbows on his knees, his tail and ears drooping without movement. "I can only tell you that it's an intelligence far beyond our understanding. We're currently confined within the Sol, and the Phantom are the gatekeepers." His tone became somewhat detached. "The only condition for lifting the blockade is passing the trial." He looked up at the airlock's observation window. "But the rules aren't ours to set, and we don't even know what the trial entails."

"Oh..." I shifted closer, leaning against the white wolf, savoring the sensation of our fur brushing together. I didn't quite understand what he was trying to convey, but seeing Richter so vulnerable made me want to offer some support.

"Do you know that the expansion of the universe is accelerating?" he said slowly, etching a blue aura in physical space with his mind. "The longer we remain confined to our star system, the smaller the cosmic range we can reach will become." The aura expanded, growing faster and faster. "The exotic matter needed to open a wormhole can only be gathered from high-level Phantom entities at this stage. And it's also quite rare in the universe." The aura suddenly stopped expanding, gradually dimming until it disappeared. "Who knows, maybe Homo sapiens won't even qualify to reach broader worlds before the heat death."

"Homo sapiens?" I rested my head on the white wolf's shoulder and asked.

"Sorry, I'm really tired today and keep blurting things out." He sighed and responded, gently nuzzling the top of my head with his chin, making my ears flop down. "It's more or less from about two thousand years ago..."

He slowly recounted the buried history, and I listened attentively, tenderly holding Richter, placing my paw on the white wolf's, and gently stroking it. Richter flipped his paw over, lightly touching my palm with his fingertips in response.

In my palm, it was wet and still a bit warm. Dark red liquid droplets floated around, reflecting the still-blazing firelight. The artificial gravity hadn't been fixed, and I couldn't even feel his weight. It was as if we could float eternally in the void.

"L'existence précède l'essence." His once blue eyes were now cloudy and white, his pristine white fur stained completely red, matching the color of the admiral's uniform coat. "Luther..." he called me, as if using up all his remaining strength. "The rest... I leave it to you." The white wolf coughed a few more times, breathing out his last breath beside my ear.

"No..." I shouted desperately. "No, Richter, you bastard!"

In the emptiness of space, I cried out, but there was no echo.

The touch of silk was truly soothing.

I continued to force myself to feel the sheets beneath me, futilely seeking some comfort--an expected failure.

"Maybe we should take off our clothes first." The light brown German shepherd--Maya--my spouse said.

This concept still confused me, and I couldn't quite grasp the reality.

"Uh... okay." I figured she had more experience in this area. Even though I was reluctant, nothing could be more awkward than staring at each other like this.

I folded my removed clothes and placed them aside, glanced at Maya, and immediately realized how serious a mistake it was, instinctively looking away.

"Am I repulsive to you?" She moved a bit closer and spoke, at least not sounding insulted.

"No, ma'am." I felt myself shaking and clenching my fists tightly. "You're perfect." I tried with all my might to turn my head back, but it was impossible.

"Hey, don't be so formal with me." Maya actually smiled. "Richter had the same expression back then, almost identical." She gently patted my cheek. "And then he vomited on me."

"What, really?" The vivid image made me laugh.

"That dinner had a lot of seafood, and he drank a lot to get drunk. So that smell... it was like a mix of all three major logical fallacies." Maya laughed as she continued to gently caress my cheek.

"I remember our first meeting was pretty similar," the image of orange liquid dripping from his pure white fur came to mind. "I still occasionally think about it." For some reason, this memory made my nose feel a bit sour.

"Richter sacrificed so much for me and Arthur, but we rarely had heart-to-heart conversations, so I always felt I didn't understand this wolf, didn't understand my spouse." Maya wiped away a tear from my eye. "Maybe you'd be willing to share more?"

"There's nothing too special," I said slowly, reviewing my memories. "An outstanding leader, the Empire's Premier Swordsman, a brilliant tactician--oh, you should see how he commands drone swarms." It was like directing turbulent waves, commanding storms. "Very spectacular."

"No," she lightly tapped my cheek a few times. "Not the image others talk about. I mean, his real self."

Something in her tone touched me, making me turn to Maya, meeting her gaze. I saw my reflection looking back from those amber irises.

Taking a deep breath, I sifted through my memories. Those blue eyes would occasionally show a lonely expression when we were alone. I noticed many gaps in the memories that weren't originally there, but the feelings remained unchanged.

"Like I said earlier, our first meeting wasn't smooth." Although, to be honest, neither were the following ones. "At the time, I thought Richter was a nitpicking, neurotic noble, so I used to play little pranks on him to vent my dissatisfaction with the upper class." Just ruining his coffee and messing up the amount of sugar was enough to make Richter angry all day. "He would continually come up with creative punishments, but I wasn't the kind of mutt who would obey easily, so the pranks just kept escalating. The time I ruined his treasured civet coffee beans, I'm sure he really meant to throw me into the air lock and eject me into space, if it weren't for Captain Arthur intervening in time."

Thinking about it, Arthur seemed to have saved my life many times.

"He always said, 'Private Luther, I should really find something else for your tongue to do, like cleaning the deck.'" I quoted Richter directly. "I think it's because he couldn't stand my 'arrogant, slick, and glib mouth.' However, during our all-night talks where he claimed he couldn't sleep because of too much coffee, Richter rarely complained." That moment seemed to stretch indefinitely. "But apparently, he eventually found another area where my tongue excelled." I shrugged, and Maya softly laughed.

"What exactly is that?" she asked with curiosity.

"Well..." It was quite embarrassing to talk about these things with someone not very familiar. I scratched my ear, trying to ease the heat. "If I wasn't trying to annoy or tease him, and if time permitted," I closed my eyes, trying to recall the details. "I liked to slowly lick his nose first. That always seemed to quickly pique his interest."

I felt Maya's movement coming closer, and the unexpected wet, ticklish sensation on my nose made me shiver.

"And then..." The colors in the memory seemed less vivid, but the scent remained. "He would usually respond by sniffing my face a few times, maybe a gesture only a gray wolf would understand." The wet sensation lightly brushed against my lips.

"Richter would never admit it, but I know he loved having his right ear scratched. It always made him so comfortable that his ear twitched continuously." The warmth of his embrace, the gentle caress on my head, moving slowly to scratch behind my ear. It was so ticklish. "His adorable ear-flapping always made me want to keep teasing him. Licking the tips of his ears had especially noticeable effects. When stimulated so much, he would usually bite me."

The sharp pain of his canine teeth sinking into my shoulder made me shudder.

"But I know that's just his way of being reserved or maybe an invitation." Some signals from the gray wolf are hard to understand, but others are easy to read. "Because of Richter's bushy tail, it could create its own little whirlwind with its back-and-forth motion." I seemed to hear the rustling sound of fur on his tail rubbing against the bed sheet.

"During these moments, if I could touch the fur near the base of his tail, he would go wild and make adorable noises." The warm sensation moved down my spine, gently pressing at the base of his tail, like an electric shock spreading through my body. "Sometimes even making the helpless whimpering sounds of a pup, which gave me a sense of accomplishment."

This kind of contrasting cuteness was hard to resist.

"But the real key is his eyes." Amid uncontrollable shivering, I reached out, exploring the fine white fur, feeling his warmth. "Those incredibly beautiful eyes."

I noticed the wetness sliding off my cheek, turned my head, and gently rubbed the tears on his fur.

Gently, he cupped my chin, wiping a few times at the corner of my eye with his thumb.

Sniffling, I slowly opened my eyes, meeting those deep eyes. In this weightless void, I saw my most genuine self, seeing the infinite blue that could encompass everything.

I heard Maya tiptoeing as she dressed and left the bed.

"What? Are you here to supervise or inspect something? Should I take off my pants and spread my legs for you to check?"

Perhaps thinking I was still asleep and separated by a door, she didn't lower her voice too much. The ensuing silence made me curious about who Maya was talking to.

"Are you okay?" Captain Arthur's voice was recognizable, filled with helplessness.

"Oh, I'm as good as I can be." Maya sounded very angry. "I basically just raped a pup, let alone he's my spouse's..." She stopped, not finishing her sentence, clearly unsure of what words to use. "...and then you ask me if I'm okay? Thank you for your concern, truly charitable of you."

I'm twenty-one already, you know. But her tone of crying made me feel a bit guilty.

This seemed a bit strange, but perhaps it was what's called my male chauvinistic part?

I carefully reviewed the touch of the sheets, the smooth fibers clearly defined under my fingertips.

"Okay, I understand."

The muffled sound of crying came from behind the door; it must have been Maya burying her head in Arthur's embrace.

"You know nothing!" Maya shouted intermittently, sounding like she was hitting Arthur's chest.

"Yes, I know nothing." Arthur's deep voice said, while Maya sobbed quietly. "It's okay, it will be okay."

For the rest of the time, the captain continued to comfort Maya, while I remained lying on the bed, feeling the residual warmth on the sheets. Among the silk and down, I sensed that very faint but distinct familiar scent, making me wet the pillow again.

I stood up and went to the wardrobe, finding the admiral's red uniform coat. From its worn areas, I recognized it as the one Richter had worn--the one without pockets.

They had thoroughly cleaned it, so clean that it seemed as if it had never been stained with blood, and naturally, no scent remained.

I tightly grasped the large collar of the red coat, burying my head in it to comfort myself, continually trying in vain until my whole body shook with unbearable pain.

I adjusted a few buttons on the collar to ease the tight discomfort. This red uniform always made a certain part of me itch.

"Black alert, entering Gaia Buffer Zone..."

After the artificial gravity was deactivated, I did not activate my magnetic boots but instead relaxed my body and allowed myself to float aimlessly. The terminal displayed an order issued personally by the emperor, instructing the Empire's Heart fleet to proceed to the Lunar Starport. The mission was absurd, but I wasn't in the mood to care; I let the terminal slowly drift away.

I float before the malfunctioning glass window, gazing at our home planet.

The fine sand of deserts or the droplets of oceans are not adequate to describe this scene. Between the grains of sand, there are more grains; between the droplets of water, there are more droplets. This, however, seems more like a speck of dust in space.

Emerald green lands, azure seas, pure white poles, and swirling, ever-changing clouds. Even at this distance, everything is still clearly visible. It contains all living beings, embracing everything. And Gaia itself floats in the vast void.

In the void, we are each isolated, infinitely distant; in the void, we are one, so close.

Floating in the endless void, it's not loneliness that fills me but the lingering warmth with a slightly damp touch from the palm.

I tapped the spot on the window where Gaia floated, watching the crystalline tears in my reflection's eyes grow larger, mirroring the pale planet. It is the most beautiful blue dot in our eyes.