From University Graduate to Soldier in an Interstellar Conflict: I Got Isekaied to an Alien World at War
There is a being that I wish wasn’t here right now. The wall-deprived space of Bokel External Military Outpost One meant it can’t prevent it from not being here. It’s not one that I would want near me for its recent behaviour. I would prefer that we could do what is necessary minus its involvement, but it refuses to go.
“Why is Nosqouel here?” I wanted Telliwouf to answer.
“It is one of the key technicians of this group. We require a lifeform of this skill set for what needs to be done.”
The problematic one barged in when no one called for him, stating that it was not going away despite my hostility. Baseball is a hell of a drug, not a game. We’re well removed from the field, the bat, and the balls, but it still has the craving to be at the ball game.
“Why do you have to make threats for something as petty as baseball?”
“What threat? You are misinterpreting what I am saying.”
I am done with this organism. “Can we move on?”
“Sure. Take off your suit.
Robotic arms lay in wait as I stand on a pane of glass within a series of concentric flooring for the suit to open up its appendages and abdomen so I can exit it. What remained was my helmet; it was independent of my suit, providing my breath and a voice outside of its clear protection. Then, once it returned shut, the arms went into a frenzy, targeting the plating covering the forearms. The tools, in comparison to what they were connected to, were too big for any in-depth work to be done, even though these ‘big’ tools were the tiniest set in use. Each one was as long as the armour itself, but what most would interpret as a problem, was nothing of concern.
Opening it up is for the scanners to pass over its most private contents, which would be impossible to take apart without the Tenkep Research Squad. But, they were willing to relay how to do this with exact details to smoothen the procedure.
PLONK! CLOOK! CLING!
“Are you sure this is safe to do? That doesn’t sound like the sounds of them doing their job.”
“Don’t worry.” said a Gloup named Permilox. It wore knee pads and had several lines of reasonable size across its exterior that were much darker than the usual red that covered the usual Bokel. “The Tenkep Research Squad uploaded the complete schematics of the interiors to the robots. They’re just acting on the information of your colleagues. “Don’t you trust them? They are the ones that gave you this suit modified from the kind they have as standard-use.”
“I don’t like how you’re questioning my faith in them.”
“I’m not doubting you at all. They’re just doing what they have to do. Stay calm.”
“You mean done destroying my precious suit.”
“Precious? Are you in love with it?
“No. I just like my suit. Human beings don’t have an unhealthy obsession with inanimate objects.” As those words passed through my lips, body pillows, waifu wars, and needless shipping came to haunt me, rolling a chill up and down my spine. Well, all of that except for the body pillow part, I’m not that sick. But I did stick a picture of my favourite busty two-dimensional brunette, Camilla Catalan, from the anime, manga and light novel franchise, Devil’s Advocate, to my pillow when I was about fifteen to keep me warm during the cold Hokkaido nights. She was a Spanish viper that walked over any man that trifled her. Her power was equal to her beauty. Being a femme-fatale, she won the hearts of lonely and paired men alike.
Okay, Sato… Pull yourself back. That degeneracy was unacceptable. You should be counting your graces that you were never found out for the otaku you are. Imagine having a banner of your waifu on display at the school entrance with the words, “Come love me, dear Sato.” next to her typical dress of short-cut denim pants, cherry red heels, a cloth covering her chest, and a cowboy hat more antique than the wild west.
Oh, and the kissing… and the hugging… and the dirty talk all exaggerated to the eleventh degree, all for the most ridicule possible to destroy the image of me as a normal teen.
What I just described happened to this loser kid who wore a retainer for the whole of high school with his treasured waifu, Vanilla Vixen. He smelled and was as much of an otaku as one can be. He got bullied hard. And to exemplify that, they did acts such as placing magnets to his face while sleeping in science class to see if the wires of his retainer can be drawn to them on multiple occasions. And they were the big ones - the kind that can fit in your palm flush.
Please restrain yourself, Sato. This is not the time to reminisce. Your waifu is fake, you’re no longer in Japan, and there’s no stimulus for you to weeb out.
“Hey, metal suit. It’s a [ ] [ ] [ ]”
“Can you say that again?” My translator is becoming worse. But with Braltui, Haibul and the others arriving at any minute, it shouldn’t be long before this is sorted out.
“[ ], [ ], [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]”
“They better get here soon. I’m basically deaf at this point by not being able to pick up on entire sentences.”
“[ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]?”
TRANSLATOR NON-FUNCTIONAL. REPAIRS ARE URGENTLY NEEDED. This pop-up text was hampering my vision. Activating subtitles would be pointless as they are dependent on sound being funnelled in and interpreted to become viable.
The Bokels can’t be depended on to deal with issues regarding my translator. It’s just outside of their expertise. Unlike the suit, they cannot use their tools and machinery in an ad-hoc manner to find the decaying root and restore it. They were not suitable for the task. Their technology – at least in regards to communications - had become too distant from their Makupuu beginnings. Implants that have to operate on their bodies’ bio-chemistry versus talking through a long-range receiver - they have definitely made it their own.
I just had to wait. My problems will be over before I know it.