Chapter 13: Compromise

“Huh? The system that no human could possibly operate—you designed it? Please adjust the time lag… I can never hit my targets,” Levi’s face was filled with disgust.

Morris glanced at Claude. “Is this why you called me over from the ‘Gaze’?”
“Yes.” Claude nodded. “Care for a drink?”
“Sure.” Morris wrapped an arm around Claude’s shoulder, and the two casually walked out—ignoring everything around them.
They went to a small tavern—and as soon as they sat at the bar, ordered two oversized beers.
Claude loosened his collar and downed his beer in one gulp, and followed Morris’s suit.
“Refreshing! There’s no beer this good on the space station! I’ve missed it!” Morris signaled for another beer from the bartender. “To get straight to the point, the system of the ‘Pristine Lady’ is quite perfect. That’s a consensus between you and me. Now you’re asking me to modify it—Why?”
Claude clinked his glass with Morris’s and replied unhurriedly—”Because of Levi Van Pelt.”
Morris whistled, intrigued. “Sounds like that young man has become your focus. Everything revolves around him now. Before, you would’ve said it’s because the pilot couldn’t handle the aircraft—not that the system was flawed.”
“The flight system isn’t the issue. I didn’t expect Levi to maneuver the ‘Pristine Lady’ so fluidly in the simulation. But the shooting system and flight system don’t match up… So…”
“You’ve compromised, Claude.” Morris wagged his finger in front of him—as if revealing a secret. “Now you want the ‘Pristine Lady’ to adapt to Levi—not Levi to adapt to the ‘Pristine Lady’.”
“You and I both want the ‘Pristine Lady’ to go into battle—not just sit there like an exhibit.”

“Do you really want her in battle?” Morris rested his chin on his hand—observing Claude’s expression. “If so, Levi will fly to places beyond your control. You won’t be able to provide him with the absolute safety you do now. Even if you reach out, you won’t be able to catch him. You can’t protect him anymore.”
“He’s a fighter pilot. His mission is to fight, not to be protected by me.” Claude lowered his head and took a sip of his beer.
“Fine. Just hope that when you’re standing in the control room watching him dodge through enemy fire—you won’t be too torn up about it.” Morris’s face displayed a mischievous look.
Claude furrowed his brow slightly before speaking after a long pause, “Is it that obvious?”
“Obvious? What are you talking about?” Morris asked with a deliberately wicked expression.
“You know what I mean.” All traces of humor disappeared from Claude’s face.
“I’m not sure about ‘obvious,’ but it’s pretty clear that your dear Levi hasn’t noticed what you’re thinking.” After pondering for a moment, Morris seriously asked, “But let me ask—do you think about doing this… or that to Levi every day?”
Claude clinked his glass with Morris’s again, his expression nonchalant yet resolute. “If you can’t get the shooting system to sync with Levi—I guarantee I’ll ‘this’ and ‘that’ to you.”
“I’m already taken, and let’s face it, you’re clearly on top. Unfortunately for you—I’m definitely not a bottom,” Morris said, swirling his beer with a smug look.
Claude stood up and said, “Check, please,” with his voice command system linking directly to his account. “You won’t pick up my tab?” Morris showed a discontented expression.
“I’ll pick up your tab when you finish the system. Hope you don’t drink yourself to death here.”

The next day, during training—as Miller and Claude watched Levi’s shooting performance on the computer, Morris finally strolled in, late as usual.
“Is being late your specialty, Lieutenant Colonel?” Claude asked without even glancing up.
“I don’t care about the process, only the result. Only the final data will tell me how to improve.” Morris leaned in, squinting at the screen.
Two minutes later—Levi finished his morning training, walking out looking groggy.
Morris pushed Miller aside and began scrutinizing the data.
“Maybe you were right, Claude.” The sound of rapid typing filled the lab as Morris filtered the critical data. “Only when someone can truly operate the ‘Pristine Lady’ can we see if it’s really perfect. Levi Van Pelt is a genius. His senses are so sharp that even a millisecond of time lag fatally impacts his shooting.”
“I’ll stay and help,” Miller said, eyes brimming with excitement at the chance to work alongside the senior expert he admired.
In the break room, Levi rested his head on his hand—lazily picking at his food with a fork.
“What are you thinking about?” Claude sat next to him, mimicking his posture.
“I’m thinking about when you’ll kiss me again.” Levi leaned toward Claude—looking tired but teasing, his eyes half-lidded in a mix of mockery and provocation, his face turning slightly—creating a dangerous and ambiguous aura under the cold light.
Claude remained unmoved. “These tests are pointless. If I did kiss you—you’d shrink back like a snail. You move slowly when you crawl, but your retreat into your shell is ridiculously fast.”
With a smirk—Levi continued to poke at his salad. “So boring.”
“Actually, you’re just frustrated that you can’t shoot as freely as you fly the ‘Blue Crisis’.” Claude reached out, lifting Levi’s chin with his finger—forcing him to meet his gaze.
Contrarily, making eye contact with Claude was what Levi hated most. He frowned, raising his wrist to brush Claude’s hand away—but his arm was grabbed mid-air.
“Trust me, even at super-high speeds—you’ll hit your target.” Claude’s calm voice carried an inexplicable conviction that made Levi believe him without question.
Levi hesitated for a moment, but Claude stood up and left.
After a while—Levi covered his face with his hand and laughed, “Why should I trust you?”

Another monotonous day of training began, and Levi had become numb to his inability to hit the target. However, when he entered Z-Zone—the atmosphere felt like it did the first day he arrived here.
Miller sat at the computer, ready for battle, treating the data like his battlefield. Morris, unexpectedly, looked worn out, with dark circles under his eyes from pulling an all-nighter.
As Levi walked by, he covered his nose—pretending to be disgusted. “Don’t say anything. I’m afraid your bad breath might kill me.”
“Really?” Morris exaggeratedly breathed in Levi’s direction. “If you miss today—I’ll lock you in the cockpit with poison gas instead of oxygen.”
Levi smirked. “Alright—let’s see how good you really are, Mr. System Expert.”

That day, Levi performed spectacularly. Watching the screen—Miller didn’t dare blink. “Now it looks like the ‘Pristine Lady’ is Levi’s toy…”
The hit rate for standard and guided missiles had risen to 62%, and even Levi’s weakest skill—parabolic missile strikes—had reached a 21% success rate.
“This guy’s ready for combat,” Morris stroked his chin, pleased.
“I admit the results are surprising—but real combat is different. Levi still needs…” Miller was cut off by Morris.
“What does he need? Experience? He won’t get it until he flies the ‘Pristine Lady’ out of this base. If you want him to grow—you can’t keep him locked up here forever. Some sacrifices are inevitable.” Morris’s face was devoid of his usual smirk—his eyes as cold as his tone.
Claude stayed silent, listening to Levi’s voice in his headset.
“Damn, this feels amazing!”

That night—Levi was out partying at a pub with a few air force officers. In the crowded dance floor, he danced wildly with a blonde girl—drawing cheers and whistles from the crowd as their bodies moved in sync.
The music was loud, with electronic beats stretching nerves and pounding hearts. While making out with the girl in his arms, Levi caught sight of a tall figure standing on the upper level—looking down over the pub. Though that person saw everything, it was as if none of it mattered to him.
Levi turned away—pretending not to notice him. He really didn’t want to deal with him during his free time.
After another round of passionate kisses, Levi felt distracted. He couldn’t help but glance back at the second floor—where the person now wore a playful smile as the light swept across him.
Releasing the woman from his arms—Levi shoved his hands into his pockets and angrily marched upstairs, stopping beside the man.
“I’ll say this, Major General—this place doesn’t suit you.”
“What kind of place would suit me then?” Claude asked—continuing to watch the dancing crowd with a slight nod.
“Let’s see… a lab, a fancy restaurant, a concert hall—especially one that plays outdated classical music, like Schubert or Beethoven.” Due to the noisy surroundings—Levi had to lean in close to Claude’s ear to be heard.
“This place doesn’t suit you either,” Claude remarked—turning slightly, his lips briefly brushing against Levi’s nose. The faint warmth of his breath grazed Levi’s lips, but Levi raised an eyebrow—showing no sign of backing down.

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