by Shouji Gatou
“Kurz!” Sousuke cried.
Kaname furrowed her brow. “Kurz? Wait, is that...”
“Yeah, it’s me,” Kurz answered cheerfully. “How’s it hanging, Kaname-chan?”
“What in the hell?!” Kaname screamed.
Sousuke remembered: Kurz and Kaname had met before. Last Sunday, he had pretended to be a tourist to go around town with the girls.
Kurz Weber’s haughty voice called out, “Sousuke! Can you move?”
“I think so...” he answered. Biting back the pain, Sousuke pushed the twisted frame aside and pulled himself out of the cockpit.
Up in the sky, there were fireworks going off; these were MRLs, fired by the Tuatha de Danaan, that peppered the area with small bombs. Parts of the base caught fire, a prelude to a chorus of explosions.
Kurz’s wasn’t the only AS descending on them, either; five other M9s had detached their boosters to dive into the night-cloaked airfield. They were followed by the sound of rotors shaking the air; attack and transport helicopters appeared over the ridge, following the M9s’ path in the skies high above.
The de Danaan’s squad had arrived. They’d made it; the rescue was on.
“Listen up, Sousuke. Take Kaname and run for the airfield. The south side of the runway!” Kurz swapped the magazine in his high-caliber rifle and turned to face the AS fleeing up the hill.
“The airfield?” Sousuke questioned.
“We’ll have C-17s touching down soon. They’ll only wait five minutes,” Kurz told him. “Leave this to me—I’ll pick you up later.”
“What about the bomb on the plane?” Sousuke asked.
“Mao and Roger are on it,” Kurz told him.
“Understood. Watch out for the silver AS; its operator is a cut above.”
“No worries. I’ll blast his ass into next week.” Kurz’s M9 crouched to focus its power, then leaped.
“What’s going on?” Kazama Shinji whispered, his eyes on the ceiling of the shaking plane. He could hear a series of explosions outside. Sporadic conflicts had been breaking out for a while now, but whatever it was seemed to be kicking into high gear. What was going on out there?
A massive figure strode by his window. The students on that side of the cabin launched into an uproar. As he made out the shape of the creature, illuminated by the airfield lights and the surrounding fires, Shinji’s jaw dropped. “A... An M9?!” he squeaked.
It wasn’t just a Western AS, but a cutting-edge M9 Gernsback! Not even the US Armed Forces were deploying those in combat. Yet here it was, right out of the blue! On top of that, it had an unusual head design; the bulge must be from a cutting-edge ECCS and EHF radar...
“Everyone, get away from the windows!” came a voice from the machine’s external speakers. It was hard to hear inside the plane, but the words were Japanese, and the voice was a woman’s.
The M9 drew from its back a katana with a six-meter blade. The monomolecular cutter was a standard AS melee weapon; it employed an ultra-thin chainsaw blade that could slice through most armor like a boxcutter through cardboard. They were normally sized more like a combat knife, but this one was custom-made with proportions like a Japanese sword.
“What’s it gonna do?” Shinji wondered out loud. While he and the others watched, the M9 activated its mechanical katana and unceremoniously stabbed the jumbo jet in its flank. There was an ear-splitting metallic wail, followed by a vibration. The passengers screamed and clung to their seats and the walls.
It wasn’t the passenger cabin the M9 was tearing into, but the cargo hold beneath. It screeched its katana through the fuselage, jerked it around, then mercilessly tore off the bulkhead.
“There it is!” The M9 plunged its hand into the cargo hold, yanked out a yellow container, and passed it to another M9 waiting in the wings. The second machine immediately turned, got a running start toward the apron area across the airfield—and threw the container with all of its might.
Shinji watched in confusion, not understanding the purpose of their actions. But everything was made clear when the container exploded on impact, releasing a shockwave that rocked their plane even from over 500 meters away. The girls of the class continued to scream. Some of them clung to nearby boys, who managed to enjoy it despite the situation.
“Uruz-2 here! The bomb is disposed of, and we’re commencing combat—oh, whoops.” The M9’s external speakers suddenly fell silent.
The door clanked open, and a dozen or so black-clad soldiers poured in. They were armed with large handguns, wore blue berets, and ran around the cabin, shouting in accented Japanese. “Please remain calm! We’re a UN rescue squadron! We’ve laid out yellow tape leading from the exit! Please follow it to the awaiting transport planes! Remain calm and do not panic! We will not leave anyone behind! I repeat, we are a UN—”
Now that Mao was past her first hurdle, she could focus on her next one: guarding the transport craft. “Friday!”
《Yes, Master Sergeant?》 the machine’s AI replied to her audio order.
“Cut the ECS! Activate EHF radar! Give me active IR and strobe lights!”
《Such actions will increase the chance of an enemy preemptive strike.》
“Perfect. I’m going to be the decoy!” She had to soak enemy fire by drawing as much attention as possible.
《Roger. ECS off. Active sensors on.》
Mithril’s transports had already landed, and they were starting their turnaround near the jumbo jet. Their other M9s were nearby, wreaking havoc, as their attack helicopters stalked the skies above.
Mao dashed her M9 away from the plane and began to dance it around on the taxiway. An enemy tank soon appeared from behind a building 500 meters away, and fired at Mao’s machine. Its blast just missed, opening a hole in the building behind her.
“Why, you...” Mao pulled an ultrafast missile from her back and pointed it at the tank. It was a large tube, resembling a human-sized disposable rocket launcher, and it was known as a Javelin. Target locked, Mao thought. Fire.
Moving 1,500 meters per second, the missile hit its target and blasted it to pieces. Mao cast aside the now-empty tube, readied another Javelin, and went in search of new prey. The area around the runway was littered with the smoking remnants of enemy ASes and tanks. “Less resistance than I expected...” she observed. It had been unintentional, but before their arrival, Sousuke’s little rampage had divided the enemy forces between the north and south sides of the airfield.
Behind her, the hostage group had formed a line and was hurrying to the two transports. She cast a glance at the clock at the edge of her screen. “120 seconds left...” Things were looking dicey. Kurz had broken off before the drop; had he managed to get Sousuke clear?
Kaname supported Sousuke as they dashed down the runway. “Hang in there,” she said.
“I’m fine,” Sousuke responded mechanically, his expression as blank as a Noh mask. The cut on his forehead wasn’t especially deep, but the wound on his side was throbbing with pain.
“Will we make it?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I thought Kurz would be by to pick us up soon...”
“So he’s one of you, too?”
“Yes. He’s a member of my team... a sergeant.”
A stray shot landed about thirty meters behind them, pelting them with concrete fragments. Kaname screamed.
“Ignore it,” Sousuke advised. “Keep running.”
The transports were still three kilometers away; there was no way they’d make the takeoff time on foot. If Kurz’s M9 hadn’t caught up with them, that meant he must be struggling. The enemy would want to come after Kaname, so it was probably taking everything Kurz had just to hold him off.
If only Sousuke had a communicator, he thought, he could contact one of the transport helicopters above...
“Gotcha!” Kurz fired his massive rifle. The recoil caused his machine’s frame to creak and the nearby trees to bow.
The silver AS threw itself to the ground, d
isappearing behind the bushes. Both events seemed to happen simultaneously, but in fact, its pilot had changed course just before Kurz fired.
“Slippery little bastard...” Kurz clicked his tongue and changed his magazine. Several minutes had passed since the battle began, but his silver foe hadn’t fired a single shot. Kurz had blown away its rifle when he first arrived, so it was probably stuck with close-range weapons. “Heh... You’re crazy if you think I’d let you close in on me, though...” He fired two shots: blam, blam. Both seemed to just barely miss. “Hey, is my targeting off or something?” Kurz asked skeptically.
《Negative,》 his M9’s AI replied. 《Ballistic margin of error is within specified levels.》
That’s what he’d thought. Kurz always personally tuned his targeting system settings before a deployment, and this time had been no exception. “Which means...” The enemy’s agility—its maneuvering, technically—was just on another level. It was rare to see anything capable of dodging for this long without either running away or fighting back. The specs of the enemy AS might, then, be equal to or greater than his own. But greater than the weapons of Mithril, which were ten years ahead of the rest of the world?
“There’s no way,” Kurz muttered. The enemy AS seemed to enjoy dodging his shots. It ran right, and then left, seeming to anticipate his every move. “Shit. Damned thing’s mocking me...” He was running out of time. He had to finish the enemy off and pick up Sousuke and Kaname.
“Maybe we’ll try a little performance, then...” Kurz worked out a plan. He made a show of putting more distance between them, popping off a few shots as he went, as if he was shaken by the enemy’s capabilities. Once he’d gotten his distance, he knelt down and readied his gun again. He didn’t fire, though; he just lowered the gun and manually pumped the bolt a few times. He took aim again—and again, didn’t shoot.
The enemy seemed to realize that something was wrong. Kurz dropped the rifle and pulled a monomolecular cutter from his belt. It was a close-combat weapon, shaped like a combat knife. The enemy machine drew its own monomolecular cutter and began its charge.
“Gotcha!” Kurz had planned to make it seem like his rifle had broken down. He braced his M9 in position. Then, as the enemy closed in, he suddenly threw the knife. Caught by surprise, the enemy knocked it aside, but the act threw off its balance. By the time it had righted itself, Kurz already had his rifle back in hand. His movements were swift, fast, and smooth. At this range, he couldn’t miss. There was no dodging this one.
“Die!” Kurz fired. The 57mm shot burst out of the barrel, streaked for the enemy AS’s torso, and—
“Run, run, run!” the soldiers in charge of guiding the hostages shouted, as the group poured into the idling transports.
Mao’s M9 was nearby, kneeling to protect them. There were no enemies in sight; the area appeared to be secure. With their armored cars and ASes gone, the airfield’s soldiers had fled the scene in terror.
“One of my students was taken!” A hostage broke out of the line to shout at a guide soldier. It was a woman in a suit who seemed about Mao’s age. “Please, let me find her! She’s the vice president of our student council—”
Mao interrupted on the speaker. “Kaname will come back on a different flight, ma’am.”
“A... A different flight?” the teacher asked in confusion. “And how did you know her name?”
“Never mind,” Mao yelled at her. “Just get on the plane!”
The teacher looked flustered, but did as she was told. Mao had meant to reassure her, but time-wise, things were looking dicey; Sousuke and Kaname hadn’t shown, and Kurz was still locked in combat. Just thirty seconds ago, he’d contacted her to say he was “having a little trouble,” but...
“Uruz-6, you still out there?” Mao called on the radio. There was no response. Once the hostage group and the guides were all on board, the transports’ back doors began to close.
“Uruz-6, bring Sousuke and the girl here, quickly!” Mao demanded. Once again, there was no response.
She tried again. “Uruz-6, respond. Uruz-6.” No response.
“Quit screwing around, Kurz!” she exploded. “Are you trying to piss me off?” Still, Kurz did not respond.
On the runway, Sousuke looked back; Kurz wasn’t behind them. Meanwhile, the transports were starting their takeoff runs. There was no way they could get on board, now; they’d have to get one of the AS transport helicopters to pick them up on their way out. But would they even realize they were there?
There’s no way... he realized. Visibility was poor from all the smoke and fire around them. There was no way they would be seen from the air.
Just then, from the east, a dozen or so shells came flying. They landed here and there around the airfield, unleashing massive explosions. One fell about 50 meters from where Sousuke and Kaname were standing.
“What... what’s going on?” she cried.
“It’s... enemy reinforcements,” Sousuke said, wiping the sweat off his forehead. They crouched down low and hid behind a building. Now that enemy reinforcements had arrived, not even the transport helicopters could afford to wait for them. They had to find some way to meet up... But Sousuke couldn’t think of anything. While he racked his brain, the jet transports roared past them.
“Ahh... There they go,” Kaname observed.
“They didn’t have a choice,” he told her.
A dark reality was sinking down on them; Sousuke and Kaname had lost their chance to rendezvous with their allies.
The two C-17 transports gained speed down the pocked runway surface. There was a lot of shaking. Small rocks battered the fuselage. The engine roared; the wings shook. An explosion came about thirty meters ahead of the right wing, and the passengers screamed.
“Stay seated! Remain calm!” one of the soldiers shouted. Most of the students simply sat there, paralyzed, but Shinji alone had tears pouring from his eyes.
“Are you afraid, Kazama-kun?” Kyoko, who had ended up next to him, asked.
“No... I’m overjoyed,” he wept. “I got to see an M9 in live combat, and now I’m riding in a C-17. I can die a happy man...”
With almost shocking speed, the transport reached Vr—the speed at which the nose could pitch up—and then rose into the skies. The second transport followed right after, and liftoff was soon achieved.
The enemy infantry fired MPADS missiles at the second craft, but the transport had engaged its ECS. The surface-to-air missiles failed to get a lock, and ended up exploding on the airfield’s northern half.
The transports flew away toward the western sky. The VTOL fighter escorts kept a tight formation, protecting them.
Mao watched them go. “The trickiest part is over, I guess,” she muttered.
“Party’s over,” said the pilot of a large AS transport helicopter as it descended toward her. “There’s an enemy battalion on the way.”
“Wait,” she protested. “We haven’t heard from Uruz-6, or Sousuke or the girl...”
“This is Teiwaz-12,” came a communication from an attack helicopter on watch overhead. “I just found the remains of an M9. I think it’s Uruz-6’s... It’s in a river, north of the airfield.”
Mao went pale. “What did you say?”
“It’s in pieces,” Teiwaz-12 clarified. “The torso’s been cut in half.”
What was he saying? The torso... in other words, the cockpit? It couldn’t be... “Is the operator safe?!” Mao demanded to know.
“Unable to confirm. There’s too much smoke...”
“Find the operator! Find Uruz-6!” she shrilled. “Is there any sign of Sousuke?”
Over the radio, she heard the pilot gulp. “Mao. I want to find Kurz and Sousuke too, but we don’t have time.”
“We just need a minute,” she argued back. “I’ll help—”
A new voice interrupted them. “I forbid you from searching. Withdraw immediately.” It was an order from Major Kalinin, who was leading the operation from a small recon helicopter
.
“Major!” Mao cried in protest.
“Their reinforcements have crossed the bridge and interceptors are heading this way. In one minute, we could all be dead.” His tone made it clear that there was no room for argument. Then he said, “Teiwaz-12. Fire everything you have into the M9’s remains. Don’t let one screw fall into enemy hands.”
After a moment of hesitation came, “Teiwaz-12, will comply.”
“No...” Mao said weakly. The attack helicopter fired a rocket at the northern river. She saw the distant explosion as Kurz Weber’s AS was blown to flaming bits.
“Uruz-2, hurry up and dock with your transport chopper.” The major’s unwavering calm made Mao so angry that for a minute, she almost lost her mind. The word ‘murderer’ rose in her throat like bile. With a struggle, she managed to swallow it down, but it took all her strength to do so.
Eventually, she managed, “Uruz-2, will comply.” The major was right. The enemy was on their doorstep.
Gauron slid out of his non-functioning machine and landed with a grunt on the damp ground below. He looked up at the silver AS collapsed on the hillside. The chest armor was crushed, leaving the interior exposed. Stabilizer fluid dripped from the actuators like blood, and smoke rose here and there from the joints. The AS—the Codarl—had overheated. His sudden activation of the incomplete lambda driver had shorted out its power system, such that he’d only just made it to the forest to hide before the enemy attack helicopter arrived.
The lambda driver was a system that produced a power unprecedented in the history of human invention. It amplified the operator’s offensive and defensive instincts, channeled their will into forces that defied the laws of nature. Specialists called it the Pseudostring Repulsor Field Generator System; if it got out into the world at large, it would transform modern warfare. But that day was still a long way off—They lacked too much data and know-how. A wellspring of knowledge was needed. That was why they had to kidnap that Whispered, but...
