Star Ship Girl Era: My Shipgirls Are Too Overpowered-Chapter 31: We Can Actually Hold, Merrick... We Can Keep Them Out Of Here!!

Chapter 31: We Can Actually Hold, Merrick... We Can Keep Them Out Of Here!!

Governor Halden Rourke, who had been a wreck about losing the planet under his watch, was baffled when he got the good news before Black Crown even crossed the last traffic ring.

It came in as a priority update from the planetary defense network, stamped with Commander Merrick’s authorization, and it was so blunt that Halden reread it twice just to make sure it wasn’t some clerical mistake.

Omnic Vanguard destroyed. Two Tier III Foundry Cores confirmed eliminated. Route corridor temporarily cleared. The unknown main force is still unconfirmed. First-year Polaris commander inbound for possible resupply and coordination.

Halden’s hands actually shook a little as he lowered the screen.

But this was not from fear this time, but from that sudden rush of joy you got when a problem you were sure would crush you finally cracked, even if it hadn’t fully gone away yet.

"A shipgirl commander," he said out loud, and the words came out like he was tasting them. "An actual one."

A staffer near the doorway looked confused, like they didn’t understand why the governor sounded so relieved when the message still said ’main force unknown’.

Halden didn’t bother explaining because if you hadn’t lived in the alliance system long enough, you didn’t understand what that phrase really meant.

A shipgirl commander showing up was not the same as another patrol fleet showing up.

One strong flagship could swing a whole engagement, and if the report was real, the ship that was coming wasn’t just strong; it was the kind of ship that made or broke situations like these, where any wrong move could mean death.

He snapped out of it and turned sharply.

"Get Merrick back here," he ordered. "Now, not later. And prep the war room, I want live feeds on every orbital lane, every outpost relay, and I want the port authority ready to clear a dock the second they ask."

"Yes, Governor," the staffer said, already moving.

Halden paced again, but the pacing had changed. It wasn’t panic anymore, it was momentum. He was thinking ahead, already rewriting the next few hours in his head.

Cinderleaf Star had declared a state of war minutes ago. Mobilization notices had gone out, and shelters that had been rarely mentioned before started opening as they took in as many people as it can.

The population was scared, confused, and angry, and now he had to do the hard part: tell them they weren’t safe yet, but they weren’t abandoned either.

He couldn’t help the thought that slipped in, sharp and personal.

If this really holds, if the battle line stays outside the system, Cinderleaf won’t become another cautionary story people mention in academy lectures.

His wrist screen chimed again, another packet, this one from the regional command office, filtered through the alliance systems as if it were just another routine message.

It was polite and official, but the message it had was also brutal in its own quiet way.

Cinderleaf Star: Maintain war posture. Local fleet is to delay and survive. Reinforcements are being assembled. The probability of holding orbit depends on the contact timeline.

Halden stared at it and almost laughed because from this message alone, he could see what the alliance was planning to do.

They were not prepared for the omnics so deep inside, and this would lead them to arrive later than the enemies.

He couldn’t blame them. Cinderleaf was a mid-tier inhabited world on a corridor that most high command only remembered when it appeared in shipping reports.

If they had to choose where to make a stand, they would choose a richer world behind it, the kind that mattered more on the balance sheet.

And Halden knew that for a while now, his gut feeling had been right. Something bad was coming. He just didn’t expect it to have a machine face.

His thoughts drifted, and not in a proud way.

Back when he was younger, he’d also wanted the commander’s life. He’d done the studies, the training, even taken the qualification route seriously, and he’d scored well enough to be allowed to try.

He just didn’t get chosen.

No response.

No bond.

No shipgirl.

After that, his family did what many families did when a kid failed the commander path. They pushed him into management, made him useful in a different way, and he climbed the ladder until he ended up here, in charge of a planet, making sure other people’s kids got fed and housed and educated so they could go try that same test.

He’d spent thirty years watching ships leave and come back, watching recruitment cycles, watching the academy take the best and brightest and turn most of them into normal officers, because commanders were rare.

Cinderleaf had produced plenty of naval talent, but no one who became the kind of commander who changed a war by showing up.

Until now, apparently.

Halden’s mood lifted again, then immediately tightened, because Merrick walked back into the room.

The old defense commander didn’t look rushed, but his jaw was set like he’d been clenching it for an hour straight.

"It’s confirmed," Merrick said before Halden could speak. "The vanguard is gone. I spoke to him directly."

Halden exhaled so hard it almost hurt.

"How strong is the ship?" he asked, because he needed to hear it from someone who understood ships better than politics.

Merrick gave him a look that was half disbelief, half respect.

"It’s definitely not a low-level shipgirl," he said. "It’s a powerful one, far more powerful than even many veteran commanders."

Halden’s eyes widened.

"Tier III," he guessed.

Merrick shook his head once, slowly.

"Higher," he said. "And it’s his first ship."

Halden just stared at him, because his brain refused to accept that sentence on the first try.

"A first-year Polaris student," Merrick added, like he was still trying to wrap his own head around it, "and he’s flying a ship that makes my whole defense fleet look like a parade escort."

Halden’s mouth opened and closed once.

Then he did what people always did when reality felt too big.

He latched onto optimism.

"If that’s true," he said, voice rising, "then even if the main force comes, we can fight them. We can actually hold, Merrick. We can keep them out here."