The Man Who Received a Spaceship: It Turned Out to Be a Star!? - chapter 101 The End

Episode 101: The Final Chapter

“Captain, it’s time.”

The soft morning light streamed through the curtains as Maria, now my wife, gently woke me. Even after marriage, she still calls me “Captain.” Maria had stepped down from her role as the Core’s avatar, passing it on to her successor, and had retired from the Space Force.

I now hold titles such as Honorary Captain of Aguilacana, Marshal of the Aguilacana Space Force, and Marquis of the Arsenian United Kingdom. While these titles are mostly ceremonial, everyone treats me with respect, making my life pleasantly comfortable. Additionally, I am an honorary citizen of New Tokyo City.

Maria, following Earthly traditions, was promoted one rank upon retirement and now holds the honorary title of Colonel, retired from the Space Force.

The current captain of Aguilacana is our daughter, Asuka Yamada, a general in the Space Force. She is our pride and joy.

My days are usually unhurried, but today is an exception. Maria and I will travel from our home, formerly the captain’s private residence, to the captain’s official residence, and then board the Crane—now my daughter’s personal ship—en route to the testing grounds of a groundbreaking long-range mass transfer device developed by the Advanced Technology Research Institute at New Tokyo University.

Asuka, who resides in the official residence, had already departed ahead of us. She plans to observe the experiment from the BC-0001 Citadel, an S6-class battleship and the flagship of the Aguilacana Space Force. The Citadel, having undergone numerous refits, is expected to undergo further upgrades following this experiment’s anticipated success.

The testing grounds are located in an interstellar space region slightly removed from Aguilacana’s usual position. This area is densely populated with interstellar floating micro-objects, ranging from tens of thousands of tons to small celestial bodies weighing several million tons.

On the Crane, I sat in a special seat installed next to the fleet commander’s chair occupied by Maria, watching the main screen in the central command room.

“Marshal, the experiment will commence in ten minutes. The countdown has started,” the Crane’s captain informed me.

The screen displayed an overview of the testing grounds, a starry background devoid of noticeable activity. Even after the experiment, this scene was unlikely to show any visible change.

The experiment aimed to transfer all objects within a spherical area 10 AU in diameter and weighing over 10,000 tons into hyperspace—a void beyond observation. The total mass displayed in the corner of the screen was approximately 300 billion tons. If the experiment succeeded, this number would drop to nearly zero in an instant.

“Three minutes to experiment start. 177, 176… 123.”

“Two minutes to experiment start. 117, 116… 63.”

“Sixty seconds to experiment start. 57, 56… 3, 2, 1. Experiment start.”

In the blink of an eye, the screen’s bottom-right display changed from 300 billion tons to 0.02 tons. The experiment’s external impact was this simple, yet tears unknowingly welled in my eyes. Maria handed me a handkerchief, and I quickly wiped them away.

“Marshal, the experiment was a success. The complete annihilation—no, complete erasure—of Xeno is now achievable. Congratulations!”

“Thank you. With this, Earth and the solar system are safe. Captain, relay the experiment results to the embassy in Japan. They’ll handle things from there.”

“Understood.”

The experimental transfer of 300 billion tons was equivalent to eliminating 100,000 Zeno, based on their average mass of 3 million tons.

During operations, the long-range mass transfer device is expected to function at 1,000 times its current experimental capacity, capable of transferring all mass within a spherical area 100 AU in diameter into hyperspace. While the system has a mass transfer limit, this constraint poses no obstacle in anti-Xeno operations.

In a single moment, hyperspace will absorb these masses, effectively acting as a universal vacuum cleaner. The developers called it the “Disruptor,” but to me, it’s a Xeno Cleaner. While it may be used against other targets in the future, I’ll keep that thought to myself.

With the experiment a success, Maria and I returned home, sharing a delightful dinner.

“Tonight’s drink is from Halmaine, delivered recently by the Alze faction. I know it’s one of your favorites,” Maria said.

“Oh, that sounds perfect. I’ve been drinking mostly New Japan’s sake lately, so this is a nice change.”

The next morning, after getting ready, I sat on the veranda, gazing at the garden’s cherry blossoms in full bloom.

The delicate pink petals danced gracefully in the gentle breeze, a sight both calming and mesmerizing.

In the center stood the grand Somei Yoshino cherry tree planted in Maria’s honor, flanked by two smaller trees on each side. I wondered—when my time comes, should my tree stand to the right, the left, or perhaps in front?

(The End)