Wastes of Despair

 

Combat in the desert is unforgiving.

Three Ever I tanks spearheaded the assault, accompanied by a contingent of Silhouettes. Most of them were Armadillos, but among them, the silhouette of a Bison—the successor to the Bear—could be seen as well. These were weapons supplied by the Argonautai.

「Don’t let them advance another step!」

A tall, dark-skinned man shouted from inside his MCS, issuing orders.

He was piloting a Bear—an older combat-type Silhouette now mostly outdated.

「Don’t let them close in! Keep your distance!」

The silhouettes behind him were little more than repurposed work machines with bolted-on armor. Compared to the Armadillos—Silhouettes developed after Asia’s first technology liberation—they were hopelessly inferior.

Most of their support vehicles were half-tracked, equipped with mortars. They had no tank-destroyer models.

「Their armor’s too thick! We can’t touch them!」

A boy on the verge of tears snapped back.

His Silhouette was armed with an outdated 60mm autocannon. The 90mm cannons that had become standard during the Asia War were out of reach for them. Not just due to rarity—but price. They simply couldn’t afford the ammunition.

「Damn it! What the hell is this so-called ‘occupation policy’!?」

「Who cares! All that matters now is protecting the Defense Dome!」

They were stationed on the Pyrochlore continent, defenders of the L451 Defense Dome—fighting to protect their homes.

Their enemy was Greisen, an expanding military organization currently receiving weapons from the Argonautai.

「Gyaaaah!」

「I can’t hold on!」

One by one, the defenders inside their converted Workers were struck down. Most wouldn’t survive. Even a half-track piloted by the Familia had been blown apart.

Armadillos were equipped with shoulder-mounted smoothbore cannons.  The Armadillos were too overwhelming in long-range engagements, they were doomed to be whittled away.

「They just keep poking at us from a distance… Damn it, it’s time.」

「Yeah!」

The tanks advanced, pushing the front line forward—

—and then the sands erupted.

「Wh-What the hell!?」

From beneath the swirling dust, a single Silhouette burst forth.

A lone ambusher in a wilderness of despair where allies fell one after another.

It was an old, battered, scarred Silhouette. In its hands was a prototype greatsword, chipped and dulled with age.

With a single powerful swing, it severed a tank turret clean off and leapt high. The shell fired at where it had stood moments before zipped through empty air.

「A tank’s frontal armor can’t be pierced… So—」

The pilot murmured in a breath barely audible. A woman’s voice.

Landing behind the tank, she raised her massive sword and brought it down on the rear chassis.

「She’s here!」

A cheer erupted from the defense force.

In the same moment, the prototype sword smashed through the Ever I’s reactor. Without even confirming the kill, the Silhouette sprang back and away.

「We’ve got a shot—charge!!」

With just one tank neutralized, the defenders rallied and launched their counterattack.

「I’ve seen that one before—that’s one of TAKABA’s old units!」

A pilot from an Armadillo shouted.

The unit was an old Silhouette created before the technology liberation: the TSW-R1 Lanius.

「…!」

The pilot said nothing. Running low, crouched like a beast, she sliced through the treads of another Ever I.

When the Bison tried to intercept, she spun mid-motion, severing its arm, then drove her prototype blade into its chest armor.

The MCS inside was skewered, the pilot coughing blood and dying instantly.

With feral grace, the Lanius danced through enemy fire, dodging the shells shot by the Armadillos, striking its enemies down one by one.

「That unit’s too nimble—fall back!」

The enemy commander gave the order.

The Armadillo was a super-heavy armor model. The Bison wasn’t a nimble unit either. Neither were suited for close-quarters combat, and the commander had realized that too late.

The moment he gave the order, the enemy began pulling back. This Lanius was too dangerous up close.

Then, the Lanius pilot ripped the MCS from one of the disabled tanks and hurled it at the retreating force. In a panic, they scrambled to recover it and began their full withdrawal.

◆　　◆　　◆　　◆　　◆

The defense team returned the captured weapons to the Defense Dome.

「Get that MCS open, now! Triage the wounded first!」

「The MCS is bent—if we don’t open it fast…!」

「Bruno! No—Bruno!!」

「Get a hold of yourself. We’ll get him out of that coffin, just hang in there!」

The chaos after battle was always worse than the battlefield itself.

Cries of pain echoed through the hangar.

It was the same every time—a scene you wanted to plug your ears against. But the man in charge barked orders with clarity and purpose.

The Lanius had also returned. Acting as rearguard, its armor had taken hits—riddled with bullet holes.

「You did good, Fran. That’s the first tank we’ve ever captured. It’ll help bolster our defense.」

A tall, dark-skinned man called out as the Lanius pilot dismounted.

「…Good work, Nate. Though I only managed one. Couldn’t afford to risk going for more.」

The pilot—Fran—was still a young girl, her fiery red hair cropped short.

「Yeah. Can’t even get artificial muscle around here… Meanwhile on the Scheelite continent, they’re already using next-gen armored musculature.」

「People blessed by Asia wouldn’t understand what it’s like to be in our position. We were abandoned.」

The girl said this with a quiet bitterness.

「Every day we don’t know when we’ll run out of ammo. We have no support to count on. Every other Defense Dome talks about ‘forming a nation’ first. The Stones’ Argo Army, Greisen… We’re at our limit fighting alone.」

Nate could only offer a wry smile in response.

「If only we could get in touch with Trireme.」

「You’re too naive. We’ve been abandoned by Asia.」

「Don’t say that. She’s been sealed away for so long—She probably has her reasons.」

「…Maybe. But Trireme’s a corporation, right? We’re broke. They’d never back us.」

Nate shrugged at her cold retort.

「We’ve got some 60mm shells. And a few Worker Silhouettes. But that’s it. We can’t afford to buy anything. Luckily, we still receive food supply, but we have no future—what company would help us?」

「Yeah. We just have to make do with what little income we have.」

「If we’d had money, my brother wouldn’t have died… We could’ve fixed this Lanius if we had armored muscles…」

Fran bit her lip.

「I told you—I’ll pilot the Lanius next time.」

「No. That’s mine. I’m going to fight with my brother.」

「That’s not your brother anymore. Don’t go back out there, Fran. If something happens to you—how could I face him… face Galfried in the afterlife?」

「…We agreed not to talk about that anymore.」

Without another word, she walked away.

「Sorry.」

Nate could only call after her, watching her retreat in silence.

They’d been close siblings. Fran’s brother Galfried was a renowned mercenary, one of the first to take interest in the Lanius when TAKABA released it.

But one day, before he could even launch, he was killed in a surprise attack by Greisen.

Since then, Fran had joined the defense team. Always on the front line, always volunteering for the most reckless missions.

Today’s ambush had been inspired by tactics used by the famous Fairy Blue during the Asia War—keep the reactor on minimal output, bury the unit in sand, and strike from close range as enemies pass by.

They couldn’t risk closing from afar, so this suicidal tactic was all they had.

「Still, thanks to Fran, we’ve got supplies. Let’s break down the tanks. Two of the three are good for parts.」

An older man in work overalls arrived to start disassembly.

「Right. Still no luck finding armor plating for the Lanius?」

「Sorry. No can do. I don’t want to force Fran to fight in patched-up junk like this either…」

Emergency repairs were all they could do—filling bullet holes with scrap metal. It wasn’t even a temporary fix.

TAKABA’s Silhouette armor was rare on the used market. The TSW-R1A1—Trireme’s current mainstay—never made it this far from their base in the Scheelite continent. They were effectively the standard military units of Metal Iris, so sales were heavily regulated.

「Nah, it’s okay. These Defense Domes out here are all on the brink.」

「Damn right. Murder attacks. The Argo Army conquering left and right. Hardly any allies left. If we ran all the way to the edge of the continent, we might be able to seek help from Misumaru Heavy Industries. But can’t abandon the dome we were born in.」

「Yeah.」

Nate sighed.

He’d been born and raised in the L451 Dome. He had nowhere else to go.

When Trireme was established, most of the Artifact Consciousness population vanished. Mostly Familias, along with a few Nereids and Therianthropes, left them to join Trireme.

Roughly 800 Familias stayed. Only 200 Nereids and Therianthropes remained. Of those, only a few volunteered for the defense team.

「Use the workers to recover tank shells. Familias, help with transport.」

Humans could only handle shells up to about 120mm safely. Anything heavier needed two people.

In theory, Workers could handle the recovery task on their own and could even disassemble tanks. But without facility access rights or money to hire even an E-rank Development Engineer, the automated functions were inaccessible to them

「Two Bears, one Worker, and a pile of APCs lost… all for one tank. We’re dragging Fran down.」

Nate muttered to himself.

A fellow worker overheard and replied.

「We don’t have Asia’s support. So we do what we can to protect the land we were born in.」

「Yeah. I wanted to capture an Armadillo too, but that was wishful thinking. Casualties were low this time, but still…」

The other worker frowned in thought. This couldn’t go on. Attrition would eat them alive. The burden on Nate was too great.

He voiced a desperate idea.

「Maybe we should reach out to Trireme affiliates… or at least the Mercenary Association.」

「We’ve tried. But they’re on another continent. Too far. No transport, no funds. We’ll run out of money just keeping the infrastructure going… We might have no choice but to go for broke.」

「Fran will lose it. Don’t.」

The worker barked, veins bulging. What Nate had suggested was a desperate gamble.

「…Yeah. Sorry. That was just a passing thought.」

「You’re the commander. Get it together.」

「I know.」

And with that, the man left.

Nate returned to his quarters, scowling like he’d swallowed bitter poison.

「No money. No shells. No fuel. Goddamn it… What was that quote from that revolutionary on Earth again? ‘Be realistic—demand the impossible’?」

He remembered it from when he first found himself in command. A quote from one of Earth’s infamous resistance leaders.

「There was another one… ‘Rather than be nailed to a cross, I’ll fight with every weapon I can get.’ That one suits me better.」

He hadn’t chosen to be a commander.

He simply chose to defend the Defense Dome he was born in—by any means necessary.

Even if that meant sending his best friend’s little sister straight into hell.