Golden light slowly gathered inside the cockpit.
"Prometheus, my Prometheus."
Caelus hugged Prometheus and rubbed against it furiously.
"You're messing up my hair."
Prometheus's red eyes looked helpless, yet her tone carried unmistakable delight.
"Right, Prometheus, I want to try this today."
"?" Prometheus's gaze fell on the garish plastic pouch Caelus had produced.
"…What are you planning?" Prometheus finally couldn't stand it; she raised a hand to press against his forehead and push his too-close face a little farther away.
"Planning to, definitely planning to."
"That's not what I meant!" Prometheus shot him a reproachful glare, yet her body docilely leaned into his arms without the slightest struggle.
After the preparations were done, Prometheus really couldn't hold it in and burst out laughing.
…So that afternoon, March 7th pointed at Caelus's trousers and exclaimed in shock.
"Captain! Why are you so… colorful? Your pants are glowing!"
Caelus's silence was deafening. He glanced down at his neon-builtin trousers, feeling that in this life and the last two he had never been this dazzling.
"You wouldn't understand—this is called resplendent light illuminating the earth."
"Amazing."
March 7th nodded, impressed though not quite sure why.
"Does it use power, Captain? Does it need charging? Can you adjust the brightness and colors?"
March 7th's barrage of questions made Caelus's temples throb.
How should I know…!
He tried to muster the dignity of a captain to ignore March 7th's curiosity-filled gaze and Dan Heng's barely perceptible lip twitch.
Just then the comm station chimed an urgent alert, rescuing Caelus from the center of embarrassment.
"Hmm? A new customer inquiry?" He seized the lifeline and lunged for the console.
The message came through an ultra-encrypted anonymous channel, terse yet unmistakably urgent:
Commission: urgently need a device or technique that can completely conceal one's tracks and evade every form of pursuit. Cost no object."
Evade every form of pursuit?
"Client, I know you're in a hurry, but please stay calm."
Caelus raised an eyebrow.
"Dan Heng, fetch me those black-rimmed glasses."
"On it."
"These specs will meet your needs; once you put them on, no one will doubt whether your identity is fake—even if you stroll right past an Emanator."
[Superman's Glasses]
[Lets you change your face; your hidden identity will never be discovered]
"But this piece of junk has big limitations—depends on luck. Someone might suddenly remember who you are."
"Depends on luck?" the anonymous channel asked, puzzled. "What's the price?"
"Fifty thousand credits, client, and this isn't your first-time discount."
"Deal."
The reply came startlingly fast, without haggling. For an item with such a vague description and luck-based results, the price was outrageous; the other party clearly cared nothing for credits, only results.
If even Erudition can be fooled… "Repeat customers sure are enthusiastic—look, another one already."
Caelus rubbed his hands together.
The client left no traceable delivery address, instead designating an abandoned auto-freight hub in a remote system. Caelus had Small Robot place the plainly wrapped glasses case in the designated locker; within ten minutes the system showed the goods collected and the credits paid in full.
"After those glasses were repaired…"
"Relax, they can't be fixed. No matter how capable, no one can remove the flaws in these items—just like you couldn't fix the leaky tub in your room after a whole day. Imperfection is the norm of the universe."
Dan Heng: …Where does he get this confidence… no, this point of confidence is way too weird… "To celebrate our growing team and the successful completion of two big orders, I've decided—our company's first official team-building event!" Caelus put hands on hips. "Let's go check out this fringe planet in the Talia Star System—our last stop there."
scrap iron roared deafeningly along the star-orbit, then burst into unimaginable speed.
Dan Heng silently checked the ship's readouts; though every indicator danced on the edge of danger, the vessel—like its captain—always stabilized at the brink of collapse.
The voyage was anything but smooth; near the target planet they ran into a small band of space pirates.
"Yo, space pirates."
Caelus's eyes lit up.
March 7th stared slack-jawed as Caelus, clutching a pair of garish shorts, solemnly pitched to the pirates that these shorts were actually a hood—pull them over your head and no one would recognize you.
Dan Heng: …Technically true.
Because anyone who knows you wouldn't dare admit they know this idiot.
"…So, friend, just pull this treasure over your head," Caelus's voice crackled through the communicator with infuriating sincerity, "and I guarantee no one in the galaxy will dare look you straight in the eye! Maximum deterrence! Fire-sale price—only five hundred credits!"
"Hmm? Really?"
"He's messing with you, boss!"
"What? You dare mess with me?!" The pirate chief's fury detonated like a powder keg; his fan-sized hand slammed the console, making the screen flicker wildly. "You think I'm an idiot?! Five hundred credits for a lousy pair of shorts?!"
March 7th scratched her head and whispered to Dan Heng, "He only just realized? I thought he was actually going to buy it…"
This pirate chief doesn't seem very bright.
Dan Heng didn't even lift an eyelid, silently scoring the pirate's IQ.
"The captain's amazing—he can sell the dead as living."
"Looks like reasoning won't work." Caelus sighed regretfully, tossed the supposedly identity-concealing shorts back into the corner pile as if he hadn't just hawked them enthusiastically. "Then we'll have to… execute Plan B."
"We have a Plan B?" March 7th asked.
"Of course—how can you roam the galaxy without Plans ABCDEFG?"
Caelus tapped a few commands, then thrust his hand into scrap iron's energy input port.
"imaginary energy cannon, fire!"
Still visually overwhelming, still a waste of energy, still devastatingly effective.
Still, raw numbers crush everything.
"So many ships have flown past—why didn't you rob any of them?"
"We only hit merchants, not passers-by."
The man who looked like a staff officer stepped forward with a helpless shrug.
"You're trying to rob the Cosmic Junk Company? Must've eaten too many red beans." Caelus glared. "Fine—I'll ship you all to Jarilo-VI to grow potatoes!"
"Hold it!"
"Hold what? The boss already crashed."
Caelus reached out and pulled the huge cleaver from its rack.
Hiss—
—and sliced a piece of fruit.
"Dan Heng, want a bite?"
The captives exhaled in relief.
Then Caelus drew another razor-sharp blade.
Instantly their hearts leapt back into their throats.
He rammed the long sabre into the wall and hung his coat on it.
Phew… scared me to death.
"Hmm? Who owns that big ship outside?"
Caelus frowned.
It was a vessel totally out of sync with scrap iron's aesthetic. If scrap iron looked like a science-freak cobbled from garbage, this newcomer was a battle-scarred, muscle-bound heavy trooper.
Its hull was pitch-black, its lines brutish, the bow and flanks bristling with jagged rams and turrets. Patches and retrofits showed here and there, yet the pressure it exuded dwarfed the petty pirate skiffs.
The bound pirate staff officer's eyes flickered, a fleeting mix of joy and dread crossing his face.
Big brother's ship… Lancelot is here!
The public channel crackled with rough static before a deep, commanding male voice forced its way in.
"Scrap heap ahead—stop at once! Release my men, hand over your cargo, and scram!"
Caelus blinked, not a trace of fear on his face—only the look of someone who'd finally found decent entertainment.
"That's a star-pirate… We'd better jettison them; our speed can leave them far behind."
Dan Heng spoke calmly.
Jettison?
Into vacuum?
The captives panicked.
"No-no-no, good sirs! Let's talk!" The pirate officer's hands shook. "That's our big brother Lancelot out there! He's—he's reasonable! Let us go and I'll put in a word for you!"
"Reasonable?" Caelus stroked his chin, gaze swinging between the oppressive warship and the trembling pirates, a playful curve on his lips. "Reasonable people open with 'scram' and 'surrender everything'?"
"We'll give you temporary suits," Dan Heng added.
Temporary—temporary suits… "Wait—what did you say your big brother's name is?"
Caelus's voice stayed level, but a razor-sharp glint flashed through his usually teasing eyes. He stepped closer, crouched, and met the bound staff officer eye-to-eye.
The pirate broke into a cold sweat under that stare. "L-Lancelot… our big brother, Lancelot!"
"Lancelot…" Caelus murmured.
Wait.
Guinaifen's big brother… seemed to be called Lancelot.
"What's your name?"
"…Kay."
Caelus gave a slight nod.
"Prometheus, activate ν-mode."
"ν-mode initiating."
"Start it—Galactic Ultra-Hot-Blooded Junk-Scrap Machine, Crack-Bang Garbage King!!"
What kind of absurd, childish name was that?
Yet this ridiculous ship transformed into a form utterly unsuited for space combat.
scrap iron ν-Gundam (iconic scene: the ν isn't just for show!)
Humanoid robots are normally inferior to starships in space; this one looked like a walking trash mountain crudely kneaded into human shape, ready to fall apart.
But this so-called scrap iron, after transforming, tore Lancelot's warship apart with its bare hands.
The metallic shriek seemed to echo in the vacuum; leaking gas and debris sprayed like blood, forming a short-lived cloud around the robot.
scrap iron clutched the enemy ship—engines and turrets mangled—in one hand and headed for the nearest planet.
The comms channel fell dead silent.
Gigantic metal feet slammed onto the barren surface, raising a ring of dust.
"Brothers from the porridge bar, dig in first."
"Tough hull—didn't fall apart. Solid workmanship."
Reverting to ship form, Caelus herded the bound pirates down the ramp with a little whip while Dan Heng kept watch, long spear in hand.
The pirates who'd stayed aboard had tried to resist; within moments Caelus tossed them out one by one.
"Which planet are you from? Answer straight."
Lounging in a broken chair, legs crossed, Caelus flanked by March 7th and Dan Heng like twin guardian deities.
The captives, having seen his monstrous strength, behaved.
Against a man who could shrug off lasers, bullets, blades—even snap a guillotine with his skull—honest answers seemed the wiser choice.
"Camelot…" the pirate chief rasped, voice hoarse with exhaustion and reluctance. "We… we're from Camelot."
Figures.
Still lounging, Caelus said, "Camelot… I've heard of it—a world crushed by the Antimatter Legion. Didn't expect survivors to turn space-pirate."
"…"
"All of you from Camelot?"
"Most of us. A few aren't."
Oh, so that dim-witted first mate wasn't.
"Hmm… how many credits do you pull in a month?"
"…Depends on luck. If a rich merchant passes, we score big."
Caelus nodded slightly; Prometheus pulled up the pirate ship's ledgers.
Day-to-day raids barely kept the crews fed.
After all, no one liked travelling through the Talia Star System.
"You're oddly kind, leaving them travel money. Aren't you afraid the Interstellar Peace Corporation will send someone to wipe you out?"
Their weapons were mostly outdated, some homemade. Rather than vicious pirates, they were lightly armed refugees.
"Kill or cut us, but make it quick. Don't harass them—they're only tagging along to survive."
"Big brother!" Several younger pirates stirred, but Lancelot silenced them with a sharp look.
"Oho, noble bandits."
Caelus clicked his tongue.
"True, raiding in the Talia Star System is common; even reporting it to the Company would be more trouble than it's worth. Looks like you did your homework."
"Not really—we're low on fuel, can't leave the system," Kay sighed.
"…All right."
Caelus rose from the broken chair, tapping the little whip idly against his palm as he circled the downcast pirates, finally stopping in front of Lancelot.
"After all, I'm not some vicious devil."
March 7th muttered, "Captain, five minutes ago you were shipping them off to grow potatoes…"
"Tch—quit undercutting me."