Fated to Die to the Player, I'll Live Freely with My SSS-Class Ship! Chapter 34: Regroup

After returning to the bridge, we managed to take control of the ship and began the tedious process of decelerating. With only the sub-thrusters operational, it took over five grueling hours to bring the Range Falcon to a full stop. Considering the breakneck speed we were traveling at earlier while being dragged by the solar sail, I suppose that was inevitable.

"Phillips screwdriver..."

{Here.}

"... 10 mm chuck."

{Here...}

By my calculations, we still had roughly 60 hours before Eva’s ship ran out of fuel. Of course, now that Major Terrence’s fleet should be out there, they could probably extend the fuel reserves, giving us more ti. Still, this narrow margin wasn’t exactly comforting.

"We don’t need solder thanks to cold welding, so... pliers."

{Here...}

"And a hug."

{He—... go fuck yourself.}

At present, my top priority is fixing the main thruster. I’d initially planned to handle it alone, but Eva, apparently bored out of her mind, decided to tag along. Since she’d already committed herself to loitering, I pressed her into service as an assistant, handing tools made of special materials designed to avoid accidental cold welding.

It wasn’t the worst arrangent—having soone to banter with helped stave off boredom. That said, repairing this colossal main thruster mostly on my own was proving to be a herculean task.

’The damage is severe. Whoever fired that beam knew exactly where to aim to screw us over.’

For the past several hours, I had painstakingly worked through the electrical systems along the thruster nozzle. Of the twelve relays, five were completely fried, all of which needed to be replaced. Four were already done; this last one was all that remained.

"Hmm... Alright, that should do it." I exhaled deeply, although unable to wipe the sweat from my brow beneath the helt. I quickly turned to Eva. "Let’s test the thrusters for now. Fix your anchor away from the nozzle."

{... Roger.}

I backed away from the thruster myself. Even at minimal power, activating sothing this big wasn’t exactly safe to be around. Once we were both cleared, I switched the comms back to the bridge and issued the command.

"Percy, test the main thruster. Set it to the lowest power output."

[Command received. Activating the main thruster at 1% output.]

As soon as Percy confird, a brilliant blue glow illuminated the area as the main thruster roared to life. Through the visor of my powered suit, I monitored the energy distribution. To my relief, everything was finally balanced and functioning properly.

"Good. Percy, that’s enough. Shut it down."

[Thruster deactivated.]

The power distribution issue was solved, but the next hurdle lood: repairing the damaged nozzle and thrust chamber. That ant fabricating new tal panels to replace the destroyed sections.

"Looks like we’ll have to use that chaotically mixed alloy for this one..."

The only viable source of tal was the stockpile we salvaged earlier along with the black box. Unfortunately, the material wasn’t exactly in pristine condition—it was a chaotic mixture of different tals, requiring extensive processing. I’d need to separate the components, harden them, mix so into alloys, and finally shape them into usable panels.

I did so quick ntal math. Even if I worked at top efficiency, the whole process would take no less than ten hours.

"Looks like we’ll barely make it before the clock runs out," I muttered, leaning against the railing and gazing into the endless void of space.

The far reaches of this dinsion stretched out before , dark and silent, a constant reminder of just how precarious our situation remained.

---

{I suggest we enter this other dinsion again and rescue the Major!}

{It’s been 60 hours since we left them... Could it be, that the Major is—?}

{Officer Fardin, please permit us to scout the entrance, at least!}

"No ans no."

Outside the tear in space, at the blackhole’s proximity, only the Leviathan-class ship—Del Pravvio—remained. The rest of the fleet, with a variety of damaged systems, had been forced to retreat to a safer distance.

They floated idly about 0.1 AU away, far enough to escape the black hole’s relentless gravitational pull, yet close enough to respond when necessary.

Fardin paced across the bridge, his unease mounting. He was no stranger to dire situations, but the fate of the Range Falcon lood over him like a specter. He knew the state of its thrusters when they entered hyperspace travel—crippled. With those thrusters and being against the massive Detonid that relentlessly pursued them, survival seed nearly impossible.

Still, Fardin clenched his jaw, forcing himself to maintain discipline. Losing hope wouldn’t help anyone. As much as he admired Gerard Astoria’s determination to face against odds, reality rarely bent to optimism.

’That Gerard… He’s reckless enough to make us move. But…’ He pushed the thought away. He couldn’t afford distractions.

"S-Spatial fluctuations detected in the crack!" an officer suddenly shouted, their voice laced with alarm.

"Is it another Detonid?" Fardin asked, his tone resigned. It was a question he’d asked far too often since arriving here.

But the officer’s response wiped the calm from his face. "N-No, sir! This energy reading is... significantly larger than usual!"

"… Don’t tell —"

Fardin’s breath caught. His mind imdiately raced to the worst-case scenario: the massive Detonid they had narrowly escaped returning, this ti fully unleashed!

"Take distance from the portal!" he barked. "Maintain a 50-kiloter clearance! If it’s that thing again, we can’t risk getting caught off guard!"

"It’s too late!" the officer cried out. "Brace for impact!"

"All hands, brace for impact!" Fardin echoed, gripping the armrest of Major Terrence’s seat as the deck quaked beneath him.

The spatial tear convulsed violently, releasing a shockwave that rippled through the void. Even the Del Pravvio, a ship of considerable size and resilience, groaned under the force, its systems flickering montarily as though it had collided with another Leviathan!

The turbulence subsided quickly, but the silence that followed was thick with tension.

"Damage report!" Fardin barked, breaking the stillness.

"Checking radars…!" an officer replied, their voice trembling. "One object confird exiting the portal!"

"Don’t tell …" Fardin turned to the main visor, his breath halting as the data stread in. When the object finally appeared on the screen, his eyes widened.

"No way…"

There it was: a familiar, elongated trident-shaped ship, its hull riddled with holes but miraculously intact. Fardin froze for a mont, disbelief washing over him before a wave of relief surged through his chest.

"The… Range Falcon! They made it back!"

His voice, unrestrained and jubilant, rang out across the bridge. The words traveled through the comms, spreading to the other ships like wildfire. Cheers erupted from every corner of the fleet, shattering the gloom that had hung over them for hours.

{Agh! Why did you bring us back so soon? There’s still tons of radioactive loot out there! What a waste…!}

{Shut up! Didn’t you see that damn guardian? It’s firing gamma radiation like it’s nothing!}

{We could’ve outmaneuvered it again! Do you know how much uranium-235 was in those asteroids? Worth billions, at least!}

{Then go back yourself. We’re already out here, anyway. Look—there’s your precious ship. See?}

But the banter crackling over the comms silenced the cheers as quickly as they’d begun. It didn’t take long for the officers aboard the fleet to piece together the truth: the Range Falcon had been leisurely scavenging resources during the dozens of hours of their absence!

"They were looting asteroids while we were losing sleep worrying over them…" Fardin muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The emotional toll of imagining the Major dying and the Range Falcon lost forever was suddenly replaced by a simring frustration.

Just as he was about to voice his irritation, a familiar voice broke through the comms, imdiately capturing everyone’s attention.

{Excuse for a mont... Ahem. Ah, everyone… Great work.} He started. {Although we lost many allies and comrades, we must honor their bravery and pray for their souls.}

The deep baritone voice of Major Terrence was unmistakable, its warmth and authority soothing the fleet’s frayed nerves.

{But whether we celebrate or mourn, that can co later. First, let’s return ho and deal with the traitors!}

His words, concise and resolute, sparked a surge of unity among the fleet. Across every ship, boots snapped together and salutes were given.

"SIR, YES SIR!"

The affirmation echoed like a single voice, carrying the unyielding resolve of those who had endured and survived.

{You talk big now, but wasn’t it your idea to stick around and explore longer? Don’t forget that.}

Eva’s irritated voice sliced through the comms like a cold blade, stripping the good vibes from the mont.

{W-Well, exploring that place was the fleet’s main objective, wasn’t it? I an... we couldn’t just leave empty-handed...} Major Terrence stamred, his awkward tone sparking confusion among the listeners.

{Huh? That’s not really our problem, is it?!}

{I-It’s as you said, Ma’am!}

{Man, don’t sweat it... Everyone has a weakness or two...}

Why Major Terrence seed so rattled by Eva, and unusually submissive to her, was a tale best left buried behind the wall of forgetfulness—a secret the fleet was better off not knowing.

For now, what truly mattered was that the Range Falcon was back. But whether their return marked the end of their troubles... that was a question without an answer.