Chương 338: 144.Folding Chair Meeting 2

"Good," Hedwig said.

"Then, from here on: I ask, you answer." Hearing that, my first reaction wasn't tension. It was wanting to laugh. Not because it was funny. Because this Third Princess of the Empire was currently sitting on a folding chair in a Federal warship's warehouse, and yet she still managed to make it sound like she was the proctor of the exam. If someone exiled her to a barren rock, she'd probably draw a line in the sand and tell everyone they were standing in the wrong place. Maki didn't laugh.

She just looked at Hedwig, as if waiting for her to flip the next card.

"Your Highness," Maki said.

"You may ask. But we're changing the order." Hedwig raised her eyes slightly.

"Oh?"

"It is not 'you ask, we answer.'" Maki's tone was flat.

"It is you proving first that every word out of your mouth is worth the Yukikaze listening to." Hedwig didn't answer right away. She just rested her index finger lightly on the edge of her chair, as if weighing the mass of Maki's sentence.

"Executive Officer," she said mildly.

"You seem very accustomed to holding the initiative."

"It's a better habit than dereliction of duty," Maki shot back.

"Even when dealing with an Imperial Princess?"

"Even when dealing with an Imperial Princess." Oh. That was hard. Sitting next to them, I suddenly felt the urge to hold a moment of silence for that folding chair. Because it was no longer just supporting human weight. It was bearing the backbone of a Federal officer, the arrogance of an Imperial Princess, and the sheer bad luck of an entire warehouse about to be crushed by the invisible pressure radiating from these two. The lady's maid beside Hedwig still hadn't spoken. Her silence was terrifying.

But not a background character kind of silence. It was the kind of silence that said: If Hedwig lifts a single finger, I will execute all four phases of "protect, extract, silence, and clean up" within one second. I glanced at her, then looked away.... Never mind. Best to treat people of that caliber as furniture for now. Maki continued.

"Your Highness, you said earlier that those three destroyers weren't a standard border inspection. They were confirming whether you would die in transit."

"Correct."

"Then let me ask it differently." Maki interlaced her fingers, leaning forward slightly.

"Who wants you dead?" For the first time, Hedwig's gaze truly darkened. Not a change obvious enough for anyone to see. It was the kind of change where, if you looked very closely, you'd notice a crack forming beneath the almost inorganic calm in her eyes.

"That," she said, "you are not cleared to know." Third time. No, wait, counting the ones before, that had to be the fifth or sixth time. I was ready to applaud Maki's patience. The corner of Maki's eye twitched again. Great. Third time for that, too. At this rate, I suspected the first Federal casualty of the night wouldn't be anyone's physical body. It would be Maki Kushima's ability to control her facial expressions.

Jess sat beside us, looking as delighted as if she were watching two master swordsmen trying to hack each other apart using official paperwork formats. I honestly suspected she was already drafting titles for this conversation in her head. Something like The Empire and the Federation on Folding Chairs. Maki wasn't forced back by the not cleared to know. If anything, she grew even calmer. Which meant she was entering a very dangerous state — the steadier the surface, the sharper the blade underneath.

"Then," Maki said, "let me ask something you might be willing to answer."

"Please."

"What do you want the Yukikaze to do?" Hedwig looked at her, and this time, she didn't immediately refuse.

"Secrecy."

"And?"

"Escort."

"And?"

"Provide me with a place to speak, when necessary." Maki didn't even blink.

"You're already sitting in one."

"No, Executive Officer," Hedwig corrected her mildly.

"I am currently sitting in a warehouse, across from an officer, a fighter pilot, and a tactical officer who has spectator written all over her face. This is not a 'place to speak.'" Jess protested immediately.

"Hey, am I that obvious?" I turned to look at her.

"Yes." Maki didn't even turn her head.

"Yes." Hedwig even added a very polite stab of her own:"Extremely obvious." Jess actually nodded.

"Well, at least we have a consensus on honesty."... This ship is doomed. Just as Maki prepared to speak again, someone knocked twice on the warehouse door. Not a frantic, hurried knock. Not the perfectly measured, ruler-straight rhythm of the security guards. It was a steady, decisive knock — the kind of knock that says: I'm not here to ask permission, I'm here to take over a piece of the board. I blinked. Maki looked up.

"Come in." The door opened. Aida Rosen walked in. She came in carrying a datapad, her pace unhurried, her uniform pressed to a degree that made you want to stand up and straighten your own collar out of pure reflex. Compared to the rest of us — people who'd just rolled out of combat and a chain of back-to-back emergencies — Aida looked like she'd stepped in from a different, higher-grade order of reality. The kind that didn't believe in wasting expressions.

And the most inconvenient part was— The moment she walked in, the pressure Maki and Hedwig had been building against each other in the room actually shifted. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Not because anyone got overpowered. A new layer had been added. Like there'd been two rulers laid out on the table, and now a third one had been set down beside them — the kind you could tell at a glance wasn't standard Academy issue.

I sat up a little straighter without thinking. Not out of fear. Just that when an upperclassman walks into the room, a first-year's spine remembers what to do on its own. Aida swept her eyes across the room. At Maki. At me. At Jess. Finally, at Hedwig. When she spoke, her voice was level, carrying a steadiness that felt no need to prove itself.

"Sorry to interrupt," Aida said.

"But there are a few things I think you'll want to hear." Maki stepped half a pace aside. That half-step wasn't a retreat. It was a handoff. I understood immediately. Maki had carried things this far — the interrogation, the tempo of the room. But past this point, it wasn't something the title of Executive Officer alone could absorb. Because Aida Rosen wasn't just our second-year upperclassman from the Academy's Upper House. Her surname was Rosen.

And in the Federation, that name carried weight — heavy enough that anyone with even a passing grasp of politics wouldn't mistake her for just a classmate, or a cadet officer in training. Hedwig was clearly the type with rather more than a passing grasp of politics. No — more accurately, she was probably the type who read other people's family trees as bedtime material. So the instant she saw Aida, her eyes changed. Very slightly. But I caught it. It wasn't the amused, appraising look she'd used on Maki and me.

This was more direct. Colder. Closer to rebuilding an entire model from scratch.

"Aida Rosen," Hedwig repeated softly. Aida didn't bother introducing who her father was. She didn't need to. She simply set the datapad on the table and said, calmly:"Preliminary cross-reference is complete — the shuttle, the Fujimaru's residual data, the escorts' gear, the encrypted handshake. Your protection sequence is genuine. The emergency transfer authorization is genuine. As for the pursuing ships—" Aida looked at Hedwig.

"Their fire-control logic and target selection didn't read like an arrest operation. It read like elimination." The room went quiet for a beat. Then I saw Hedwig blink. Very lightly. Like some judgment she'd already written out in her head had just been quietly revised up a level. Then she smiled — thin, and sharp.

"This ship," she said, "is full of hidden talents." Here it comes. And she wasn't just being polite. She was genuinely reassessing the Yukikaze. First Maki. Then Aida. And then the one who'd called it in the hangar first — if they were going to ambush you, you'd already be dead — me. She'd probably finally worked out that this wasn't the border destroyer she'd first imagined, the kind that had hauled her aboard on nothing but firepower and luck. Everyone on this ship carried their own particular flavor of trouble.

Maki glanced at Aida. The meaning was clear: You didn't walk in here just to drop one line and leave. Aida understood. She pulled out a folding chair and sat down. The motion was small, but the second she settled into it, the chair somehow took on the weight of a parliamentary hearing seat.

"Your Highness," Aida said.

"From here, I'll be the one asking the questions." Hedwig watched her, that cold thread of a smile not quite gone.

"Please." Aida nudged the datapad forward an inch.

"First — I won't ask for your mission's name, and I won't ask what the mediation involves. Because if I asked either right now, you still wouldn't answer." She set the datapad flat. Her voice didn't rise. It didn't press down, either. But her kind of flat wasn't Maki's kind of flat. Maki's flat was a saber sheathed — everyone in the room already knew that once it came out, it drew blood. Aida's flat was more like a surgical light. The moment it switches on, you know what comes next isn't an argument.

It's a dissection.

"I only have one question." Aida raised her eyes to Hedwig.

"The people hunting you — are they close enough to the Imperial core that the moment you say the name out loud, even the Yukikaze would have to change course?" The room went still. Not the whoever speaks first loses stillness from Maki and Hedwig's earlier back-and-forth. This one ran deeper. Like a door had actually been knocked on. I watched Hedwig. And for the first time, on that coldly expensive, expensively dangerous face, I saw a very slight pause. Not a crack. Not being caught off guard. A direct hit.

Hedwig didn't answer right away. She only let her gaze shift slowly onto Aida, as if re-confirming whether this upperclassman who'd just walked in — creases pressed so sharp they looked like they'd refused to negotiate with the universe — was merely an upperclassman, or something else entirely. I knew that look. It was recalibration. And not the these two are mildly interesting kind she'd run on me and Maki. This time, Hedwig was rebuilding the whole model. About two seconds passed. Yes. Just two seconds.

But in this room, two seconds was enough time to run a political assessment through three full revisions. Hedwig finally spoke.

"Closer than you think." Her voice was still steady. But the second that line landed, I felt the air in the warehouse drop a notch. Aida didn't blink.

"That's not an answer." The line of Hedwig's mouth tightened, just slightly.

"Close enough that if it were said out loud, a great many people on this ship wouldn't sleep well tonight."

"That's a consequence. Still not an answer." Oh. I quietly straightened my back a little more. Not because I'd suddenly grown diligent. It was because this conversation had climbed well past my usual pay grade. This wasn't an Academy classroom. This was someone taking the machinery of state apart and letting you watch the gears grind against each other. Hedwig went silent for half a beat. More visibly, this time. Then she let out a very soft breath. It didn't even qualify as tired. It was closer to: Fine.

Since you've pushed this far, I'll at least admit you're cleared for the weight of this sentence.

"Close enough that—" Hedwig looked at Aida and finished it slowly, "—if your father heard it, he'd demand the Yukikaze's mission priorities be rewritten for the next twenty-four hours." Right. I didn't want to admit it. But that landed hard. Because even now, Hedwig still hadn't said the name. But taking it as far as your father was already an admission — Aida Rosen wasn't just someone who happened to be able to walk in and take over.

The line running behind her was straight enough, deep enough, and close enough to the places that gave the Federation headaches. I stole a glance at Aida. Her expression hadn't moved. Not even her eyelashes. Sometimes this woman really did look like she'd outsourced her whole emotional range to military discipline and family upbringing — like she was a document that only got clearance to show feeling after it had already been stamped. But I could tell. Aida had caught it. And caught it in full.

"Understood," Aida said. Just one word. But the moment it landed, it tasted different. It wasn't I get it. It was closer to: The clearance level of this line has been formally logged. Jess finally couldn't hold it — she let out a tiny, breathy whistle, then immediately pretended she'd just been breathing through her nose before Maki could look over. Hedwig glanced at Jess, apparently deciding this particular model of Federal officer wasn't worth commenting on, and turned back to Aida.

"So, Miss Rosen. What do you intend to do with me now?" Aida folded her fingers lightly together, posture perfectly correct. Not etiquette-class correct. The kind of correct that comes from knowing every word out of your mouth might get recorded, relayed, misread, and amplified — so you fold every sharp edge into standard format from the very start. Aida didn't accept the word do with. She corrected her, calmly.

"Not handling you, Your Highness." A pause.

"Custody." I nearly choked on a mouthful of tea that didn't exist. Beautiful. Too beautiful. Beautiful enough that for a second I couldn't tell if that sentence counted as gentle, or as pinning someone flat to the table and slapping a label on their forehead. Hedwig's eyes shifted slightly. Not offense. Closer to: Good. Someone's finally speaking plainly. Aida didn't leave her much room to cut in. She kept going, her tone as steady as a massive ship turning in very deep water.

"Allow me to restate the current situation. If I get anything wrong, Your Highness may correct me at any point." Hedwig neither nodded nor refused. Aida took that as consent.

"First: the Fujimaru has been scuttled. The original transfer vessel no longer exists. Second: the Imperial ships pursuing you showed clear hostile intent, and their objective wasn't standard apprehension. Third: the Yukikaze now has an irreversible contact record with you, your escorts, your maid, and this entire incident. Fourth: until your identity and the source of the pursuit are fully clarified, treating you as a diplomatic visitor with freedom of movement is an unacceptable risk to the Federation."

Aida let her gaze settle on Hedwig, level.

"On those four grounds — effective immediately, and until higher command issues further instructions — Your Highness will be under the Yukikaze's temporary protection, isolation, information control, and movement management, acting on the Federation's behalf." Hedwig listened without interrupting. No rebuttal. Only her eyes, narrowing a fraction further. I knew that look. It meant Hedwig was hearing what was underneath the wrapping. And what was underneath was very simple — You belong to us for now.

But Aida clearly wasn't the type to phrase things like a notice from Facilities Management. So she continued, naturally, in a tone that could almost pass for courteous:"In other words — during the Yukikaze's period of temporary custody, should Your Highness wish to receive accommodations suited to your station, efficient transmission of information, and the fullest degree of diplomatic courtesy—" Aida closed the datapad with a soft click.

"—then I'd personally and sincerely recommend that, from this moment forward, you treat the title of Princess as one more personal item currently in temporary storage." The room went quiet for a full second. Sitting off to the side, I had exactly one thought. —Good god, that was wrapped beautifully. What did treat as one more personal item in temporary storage even mean? Translated into plain language: Put the Princess act away right now, or the rest of this is going to be uncomfortable.

The problem was that Aida genuinely had the skill to make that sentence sound like the elegant final footnote of a diplomatic etiquette manual — with just enough this is for your own good polish on top. I spent the next few seconds tearing it apart in my head while also being forced to admit — This was the Rosen family blade. Usually kept in a velvet case. Still draws blood when it comes out. Hedwig looked at Aida for a long moment without speaking. The lady's maid lifted her eyes, just once, just barely.

Even that terrifying woman seemed to know this wasn't the moment to interject. Maki sat off to the side, neither backing Aida up nor softening the blow. She was just waiting. Waiting for Hedwig to decide whether she was actually going to take this round. Finally, Hedwig laughed. This laugh was different from all the others before it. Not professional. Not cutting. Not that high-ground you're all mildly entertaining kind of amusement.

This one was closer to — she'd finally met someone with standing enough to say this to her, and skilled enough to say it without leaving a single cheap opening.

"Miss Rosen," Hedwig said slowly.

"If the Federation were made entirely of people like you, the Empire really should have learned to be nervous a good deal sooner." Aida's expression didn't change.

"Your Highness is too kind."

"No. That wasn't a compliment." Hedwig glanced at Maki, then back to Aida.

"That was a revised assessment."... Wonderful. These two had evolved to the point where even a compliment sounded like a strategic reconnaissance report. I'd just started to lower my head and rub my temples when the comm light outside the warehouse door lit up. Not alarm-red. The blue-white flash of a high-priority internal call. Maki looked up first. Jess dropped her spectator face and turned toward the intercom panel by the door. A second later, Ash's voice cut through.

"Sounds like you've all managed to talk this into something halfway respectable." His voice wasn't loud. But the second I heard it, my spine straightened on its own. Here it comes. The one who actually closes things out was finally stepping onto the stage. Hedwig looked up too, toward the direction of the voice. Looked like folding-chair time was over.