Prologue
The southernmost docking port 32B of the Varnas Space Station was thick with the smell of life and death.
The medical staff had cleared the corridor connecting to the treatment center and lined up the stretchers. Behind the rows of senior officers, a large number of United Space Forces-affiliated guides stood by, waiting for the return of the special forces units.
Amid the mingled scent of metal and antiseptic, the space station’s system announcement echoed through the air.
[GNS707 entering. Cloaking disengaged. 60 seconds to arrival.]
Soon, a silhouette emerged from the black void of space. The Genius Strike Force’s combat shuttle had dropped its cloak and come into view.
The craft was in shambles. Half of the recoil control system had been blown off, and something had punched deep through the kick motor, leaving a gash that ran straight through it. Even after coming to a stop, the shuttle continued to cough out irregular engine sounds — and then the docking was complete, and the door opened.
The first to appear was a blond young man of striking looks. His uniform was torn in several places, covered in debris and soot, but his frame was straight and solid. Blood ran down through his disheveled blond hair, keeping one eye from opening properly — yet the eye that was visible was a startlingly vivid sky blue.
Odin Quaid. An S-class Esper belonging to the Genius Strike Force, which scouted uncharted planets, and the youngest colonel in its ranks.
The medical staff, who had identified him by the three epaulette cords on his shoulder, hurried into the docking port.
“Colonel Quaid, are you all right? Are you injured anywhere besides your forehead?”
Cradled in Odin’s arms was a severely wounded Esper. He requested a stretcher for his unconscious subordinate first. He then quietly pressed the towel the medical staff handed him against the wound, but the blood flowing from his forehead would not stop.
It was then that Brigadier General Rockfield of the United Space Forces Command approached to account for personnel.
“Colonel Quaid, we’re one short among the returning personnel…”
Odin reached for the silver military pendant around his neck and handed it to Brigadier General Rockfield. The pendant, heavy with dried blood, had a name, a date of birth, and a last will engraved on it.
Odin’s voice cracked as he reported.
“…Warrant Officer Paulo Brie of the Genius Strike Force. Thirty-four years old. Killed in action during reconnaissance of planet SLM-499. All other personnel have returned. One critically wounded. End of report.”
Brigadier General Rockfield wiped the blood from the pendant and read the owner’s final words with his eyes.
Don’t weep. I have become a star of the Genius Strike Force.
His graying brows twitched briefly. But soon the general’s cannon-like voice rang out across the docking port.
“All personnel — a moment of silence for Warrant Officer Paulo Brie, killed in action!”
For fifteen seconds, the entire space station went still as if frozen. Everyone except the medical staff bowed their heads. A brief silence that pressed down on the whole of docking port 32B.
When the silence ended, the commotion resumed. Everyone moved quickly to tend to their respective duties. Odin, too, pressed harder on his wound since the bleeding from his forehead had not stopped. Only after the medical staff applied gauze did his vision clear.
He immediately scanned his surroundings. A few steps away, Major Liam Delfort — the A-class guide assigned to this mission — was waiting to be examined by the medical team.
Without hesitation, Odin walked toward the middle-aged man with the injured shoulder. The soldiers nearby, startled by his momentum, stepped back on their own.
Thwack —
The first blow landed without warning, and the major went rolling across the floor. Odin placed his boot on the shoulder of the man who appeared considerably older than himself and bore down with his full weight. The sensation of pressure crushing his wound made the major scream.
“Aaaagh!”
“Get up.”
The moment the major gritted his teeth and pushed himself up, Odin’s fist came in again. This time his head snapped to the side and he dropped straight to the floor.
Only then did the medical staff come running.
“Concussion! Please be careful of a concussion. Please, Colonel Quaid!”
Major Liam Delfort was an A-class guide capable of frontline deployment. Given the nature of the United Space Forces, Espers were in abundant supply — but guides were always scarce. Combat-type guides like Liam were, as a result, the kind of personnel every unit was scrambling to claim.
However, during this mission, Liam had secretly severed his synchronization with Paulo — who had been in the most dangerous position — using unstable radiation guiding as his excuse. This was not the first time he had made a choice that prioritized his own safety.
Odin grabbed Liam by the hair and yanked him upright. Their eyes met over Liam’s swollen face.
“Do you know how old Paulo’s son is?”
Liam, whose expression had curdled at the informal speech from someone so much younger than him, barely managed to open his mouth.
“…I don’t.”
“Two years old. His birthday was last week.”
The hand gripping Liam’s hair tightened.
“Then I suppose you don’t know the boy’s name either.”
“Ugh — how would I know that?”
“It’s Liam.”
“……”
“That’s also why Paulo looked out for you from the start.”
Odin frowned as the face of his subordinate — a man whose body hadn’t even been recovered — surfaced in his mind. Sensing the dangerous shift in atmosphere, the United Space Forces NCOs came running belatedly and grabbed hold of Odin.
“Colonel, please calm down! If there’s wrongdoing, it should go through a court-martial…”
“You’re going to end up in the brig again!”
Odin paid no attention and crushed Liam’s jaw in his grip. When the pressure forced the other man’s mouth open, he snatched a medicine bottle from the nearby medical staff and poured the pink liquid straight into Liam’s mouth.
“Ugh — gah — mmph, mmph!”
Odin would not release his grip on Liam’s face as the man writhed and thrashed in agony. The medical staff exchanged bewildered looks. The bottle was labeled “Internal Wound Disinfectant.” Strictly speaking, it was closer to a medical act than an act of violence.
Odin said to Liam, who was squirming on the floor, with a mocking lilt.
“You abandoned a comrade just to save yourself — you’d better at least heal up fast.”
“Son of a bitch…”
The curse from the floor made the medical staff and soldiers draw a sharp breath. Odin’s expression shifted, barely perceptibly. Liam staggered upright, a sneer curling at the corner of his mouth.
“Aren’t casualties during reconnaissance the commanding officer’s responsibility?”
“What?”
“Someone died following your orders, so why are you pinning this on me? Huh? On someone who nearly died himself!”
Throughout the nine months of combat, Liam had been exactly like this. Always splitting responsibility, drawing lines, and positioning himself to walk away clean.
Odin Quaid (S): 91%
Just then, the bio-clock fused to Odin’s clenched fist let out a sharp alert. Along with Odin’s surging emotions, the rampage meter — which had already been nearing its threshold before their return — began to spike. The medical staff gestured toward the guides waiting at a distance.
“I’ll be sure to reflect on my own share of the blame.”
“Ha! Always acting so above it all, right to the end.”
“And yet you don’t seem to feel even a shred of guilt toward Paulo.”
Guides exclusively assigned to United Space Forces special forces units could earn the rank of Lieutenant Colonel after just one year of service. A position with an unprecedented meteoric promotion and a salary higher than most A-class Espers.
That was why every guide who volunteered for the Genius Strike Force was the same kind of person as Liam — someone who just wanted to endure one year and bolt. Using their immunity as a dedicated strike force guide to refuse orders, concerned with nothing but their own safety and making it home in one piece.
Odin tore the strike force pendant from Liam’s neck and threw it to the floor. The sound of metal crunching came from his hand.
“Effective today, I am discharging Major Liam Delfort from the Genius Strike Force.”
“What? Discharge?”
“You’ll be referred to a court-martial on charges of refusal to deploy and insubordination. Be ready.”
Liam’s face twisted sharply. Discharged just three months before his promotion to Lieutenant Colonel. All the suffering through 270 days of combat had amounted to nothing.
“Damn it! Without me, you lot would’ve blown up on that planet and been dead long ago! I risked my life to keep you alive — and now, what, discharged?”
Liam snapped back at the colonel who was young enough to be his nephew.
“Fine. You’re not my superior anymore — come at me without the rank. You little punk who’s still got milk on his breath!”
Liam spat out the blunt speech he’d been holding back all this time, seething. As onlookers gathered, he added one more line with a triumphant air.
“But you know assaulting a civilian as a military officer is grounds for disciplinary action, right? You just discharged me yourself.”
Odin had faced this kind of provocation more times than he could count. A guide with the mindset of lording over Espers was nothing new — Liam was far from the first. Especially in cases like Odin’s, where his guiding compatibility had a “defect.”
Odin smiled, thin and cold.
“Twenty days in the brig.”
“What?”
“That’s about enough time to cool my head.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Odin drove his fist into Liam’s solar plexus. He didn’t even need to use his abilities as an Esper — it was an overwhelming win all the same. Liam absorbed the full force of the blow, the air knocked out of him, and crumpled to the floor again.
Just as Odin was about to land another hit, Brigadier General Rockfield stepped in.
“That’s enough.”
The general hurriedly waved for someone to take Liam away.
“We’d be in trouble too if you work an A-class guide that hard.”
Odin exhaled slowly and reined in his anger.
“…My apologies.”
“Assaulting a civilian carries enhanced penalties, so wouldn’t it be safer to hit them before you discharge them?”
It was meant as a joke to ease the tension, but Odin didn’t laugh at all. His mouth remained set in a hard line, the look of a man who had come back having lost one of his own.
Brigadier General Rockfield let out a quiet sigh.
“If you make this much of a scene every time you discharge someone, what kind of guide is ever going to volunteer for your unit?”
“……”
“Still, I heard a few applications for new guides came in this time. Apparently everyone’s been buzzing because there’s an S-class among them.”
The general was in good spirits over the news of an S-class guide applicant — the first to appear in ten years. He thought that perhaps, at last, he might be able to pair Odin with a decent guide.
Odin was an S-class Esper who wielded dominion over space and time. In combat, that was an ability as good as absolute. The reason the Genius Strike Force alone could venture out to scout unauthorized zones was entirely due to blind faith in Odin Quaid’s power.
The one drawback was that Odin’s guiding compatibility was abysmal. It took two A-class guides together just to bring his rampage meter down. And even then, it had never dropped below 50% since his ability first manifested. With his rampage meter already starting at 50%, he couldn’t even use his ability to its full extent, and he always returned in a dangerous state on the verge of going critical.
“Settle down for now and go get guided.”
The unit members who’d arrived at the space station had long since scattered to find their own dedicated guides. But since Odin had never achieved over 50% compatibility with anyone, the concept of a “dedicated guide” was meaningless for him. Instead, several guides from the United Space Forces Center rotated in shifts to handle Odin.
“…We’ll begin guiding now.”
Two B-class guides who had been waiting at a distance amid the commotion inched forward hesitantly. One took Odin’s hand first, while the other placed their hands on his shoulder and the top of his head. Guiding efficiency was highest through mucous membrane contact, but after what they’d just witnessed, no guide had the nerve to attempt kissing Odin.
The pace at which the rampage meter fell was slower than usual. Odin’s body had terrible guiding efficiency regardless of whether mucous membrane guiding was performed or not.
Odin Quaid (S): 63%
When the number stalled there, Odin let out a short breath that almost passed for a laugh. His head was still burning and unbearably loud. Even after receiving guiding, the urge to smash something to pieces refused to quiet down. It wasn’t about the subordinate he’d lost or the shameless guide. It was Odin’s own problem.
“That’s enough.”
He pulled the guides away and left. It was barely the minimum of recovery, but since further guiding made little difference, he simply wanted to rest.
On his way back to the residential block, Odin recalled the news of the S-class guide that the general had mentioned. He activated the interface of the bio-clock implanted in his wrist to pull up the application.
[Would you like to view the United Space Forces 102nd cohort new guide application files?]
“Open.”
[Restricted information. Please enter your password.]
Odin entered his password, and the applicants’ information expanded before him. There were countless applications, but most had applied exclusively to the United Space Forces Center, avoiding special forces units like the Genius Strike Force.
There was only one S-class guide, easy enough to find. And that one person was also the only applicant for the dedicated strike force guide position.
“Ahn… Do… Yun?”
Odin sounded out the unfamiliar name as he opened the application.
Genius Commandos
Identity Registered
Ahn Doyun
Basic Information
Age: 22
Grade: S-class Guide
Place of Origin: Zone 4, Earth
Affiliation: Zervia Talent Development Institute, Zone 4 Branch
Family: Younger sibling (16 years old)
Education: Zone 4 Common Education Curriculum (dropped out), Zervia Talent Development Institute Zone 4 Branch Guide Training Program (currently enrolled)
One of Odin’s eyebrows rose slowly. Twenty-two years old. Training incomplete. Zero field experience. Earth-born. And from Zone 4, at that. There was not a single reason in that record that would justify volunteering for the frontline special forces of the United Space Forces.
New recruits like this gravitated toward assignments at the United Space Forces Center — not the dedicated guide position for a special forces unit engaged in interstellar combat. And on top of that, this was a place where “five or more years of experience” was the unofficial standard — yet here was an Earth-born rookie who had never so much as passed through the atmospheric layer, putting in an application. Did he have some fantasy about living on a space station?
But when Odin scrolled down, the answer waiting for him was not what he had expected.
Genius Commandos
Application Question: Please describe your reason for applying to the Genius Strike Force (approximately 500 characters).
- Because the pay is good.
“…Hah.”
Something between a breath and a scoff escaped him involuntarily. Even Liam, whom he had just discharged, had at least gone through the motions of writing at length about “the necessity of frontline experience.” This arrogant little brat hadn’t even bothered with that bare minimum of pretense.
“Can’t tell if he’s being honest or just couldn’t be bothered.”
The other answers were even more outrageous. Most didn’t manage to exceed two sentences, and the content was brazen to the point of being provocative. The applicant’s photo was low resolution. His hair was unkempt enough to obscure his face, but even at a glance, it was clearly a young face.
Genius Commandos
Application Question: Please describe what you are most looking forward to about joining the Genius Strike Force (approximately 500 characters).
- Hazard pay, space living allowance, a green car.
This wasn’t even a sentence. Just a list of nouns — and only three of them at that. Of those, “a green car” was entirely baffling. Cars were relics of life on Earth. Space stations used wireless trams and high-speed aerial motorcycles.
After skimming through the halfhearted answers, Odin found he couldn’t quite wipe the dry smile from his face. Perhaps from the moment Brigadier General Rockfield had mentioned the S-class guide, he had been quietly hoping without realizing it.
“Looks like nothing catches his eye except money.”
Odin’s expression settled into one of disappointment. He had already had his fill of guides who wielded their guiding ability like a club to throw their weight around. This one didn’t seem any different from those before. If anything, it was plain to see that being S-class would only make him more insufferably smug. The one silver lining, if it could be called that, was that the other party was still young and inexperienced — which meant he could be molded.
“If he knew about the hazard pay and still applied anyway…”
Odin muttered as he switched off the bio-clock interface.
“I’ll make sure to compensate him handsomely.”
