2: Heat

Sydney was especially hot that morning.

Admiral Jerome Borda, head of Mithril’s operations division, was dressed in his usual suit as he left his home to get into the sedan. It was being driven by a special escort dispatched from headquarters, and for security purposes, they randomly changed their departure time and route every day. The sedan was equipped with the latest bulletproofing, yet it was made to withstand even a blast from an anti-tank rocket. On the way, he had to ask the driver to turn up the air conditioning.

While he looked over his usual reports in the car, Admiral Borda’s sedan entered one of the buildings in the central metropolis. Publicly, it was the headquarters of a security company called Argyros, but it was in fact Mithril’s operations headquarters. It housed all the communication and information-gathering facilities they required to properly manage and support their battle groups all over the world.

Of course, that meant security was appropriately tight. If anyone got it into their head to try and storm the building—even with a full company of infantry—they’d have to endure over thirty minutes of being held up in front of the gate, exposed to high-caliber rifle fire, anti-personnel mines, and various other countermeasures.

Once it had completed the laborious process of entry into the garage, Borda exited the car. There, he ran into one of Mithril’s executives, Colonel Wagner, who had also just arrived.

“Good morning, sir,” the colonel greeted him politely. He was an American just under fifty with an eyepatch like a pirate captain’s, and had a distinct way of walking, dragging his right leg. Borda had heard he’d lost both in his military days.

“Morning, Colonel,” Borda returned. “Hot enough for you?”

“Sir,” Wagner replied with a salute. “I’ll run a thorough inspection of the air conditioning.”

“I was just making small talk. By the way... how’s Jackson?”

“We submitted the results of the interrogation three weeks ago.”

“I mean, how is he personally?”

“He’ll need more time in the hospital yet. They apparently used cruel and unusual methods.”

Wagner and Borda got into the elevator and rode it to the top floor. Once they were alone together, Borda whispered, “We got most of the information we needed. I can’t be sure yet, but... Geotron might be compromised, too.”

“Ahh...” Wagner must have caught his meaning, because a slight tension ran through his body.

“Amit’s acting strangely, too. Just something to keep in mind when you’re reading intelligence division reports.”

“You don’t think the general—”

“I don’t know,” Borda said, cutting Wagner off. “Lord Mallory is acting the same as ever, and we might have to relocate soon as well. But things should be fine for now. There’s a reason we run ourselves through that security wringer every day, after all.”

“Yes, sir. There’s no way they can touch us, short of sending a bomber.”

The elevator arrived on the 26th floor.

A dozen or so people were already at work in the command center, which took up two floors on its own. The space was dimly lit and windowless, with the only real light coming from the twinkling glow of a massive display. It was like a blown-up version of the combat information center on an Aegis ship.

“We’re about to be very busy, Colonel,” Borda said to Wagner, returning each subordinate’s salute as he walked past them. “The enemy’s chain of command is different from anything we’ve ever seen. If it wasn’t, they wouldn’t have had us on the ropes for so long. Standard information networks and weapons systems are powerless against them. Or perhaps, as Teletha said—”

His statement was interrupted by a jolt through the room.

Some kind of explosion had occurred. The wall blasted inward, screens and machinery were shredded, flames spread, familiar subordinates were torn to pieces before his eyes—the wave of death bore down on him in an instant.

That was all Jerome Borda knew about the situation.

Morning came, but he hadn’t slept a wink. Sousuke sat huddled in the driver’s seat of his van, his faithful submachine gun clutched to his chest. They were in a parking lot next to a large botanical garden on the north side of Chofu. It was deserted, except for a smattering of parked cars. The engine was off, so it was very cold inside the vehicle.

After having allowed an intruder into the apartment last night, Sousuke didn’t have the nerve to remain there. Kalinin was right in that Sousuke had, on his own time, come up with various preparations of his own in case of emergency. After his communique to Merida Island, he’d gathered up a few things, gotten into a car he’d prepared in advance, and driven Kaname far away. They’d used the Shuto Expressway and others to eliminate any chance of pursuit, and changed vehicles twice.

We should be safe for now, he thought.

They hadn’t been able to get in touch with Kaname’s other bodyguard from Mithril’s intelligence division—codename Wraith—since last night. There was no way Wraith wouldn’t know about Leonard’s ingress... but it was possible he’d been “neutralized” in advance. Not that Sousuke had any intention of relying on the agent; the last few months, when he’d had to leave Tokyo for extended periods, he’d always had a member of the Tuatha de Danaan squad’s PRT take his place instead.

“Mm...” He sensed Kaname stirring. She was in the back seat, curled up in an outdoor blanket. “What time is it?”

“Just before eight,” he answered. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Yeah...” Kaname rubbed her eyes groggily and sat up. She was still in her school uniform. “Wish I could get a bath, though...”

“You can’t.”

“What’s for breakfast?”

“This.” Sousuke pulled a CalorieMate out of his pocket and tossed it to her unceremoniously.

“Hey...” she protested.

“I left you a milk and a vegetable juice, too. Drink it. You may need your stamina very shortly.”

“I thought there was a helicopter coming to get us,” Kaname grumbled.

“There is,” he told her. “But... just in case.”

The transport helicopter Mithril had sent was supposed to land directly in this parking lot. They’d decided to avoid using their usual rendezvous points, such as the Chofu Airfield, various schoolyards, or the bank of the Tama River.

He’d gotten a transmission several hours ago that said the Arbalest would be on board the helicopter; Tessa had arranged for it. He was assured that it was just in case of a worst-case scenario, and that they probably wouldn’t have to use it. He certainly hoped they wouldn’t.

“Hey... I’m gonna get changed,” Kaname announced. “Eyes forward, okay?”

“Understood,” Sousuke said, twisting the rear view mirror away. He could hear the rustling of cloth behind him.

“It’s kind of a problem, though. I didn’t bring too many changes of clothes. I don’t know who’s going to feed my hamster... and I can’t remember if I turned the heat off.” She was talking as if this were one of their usual expeditions, and they’d be back in a few days.

Sousuke said nothing.

“We are coming back, right?” Kaname asked, Sousuke’s silence prompting her to worry.

“Well...”

“What?”

“Er...” He didn’t have the courage to tell her the truth, thinking back on his conversation with Hayashimizu Atsunobu yesterday. Sousuke was well aware that the status quo was unsustainable.

Over these last nine months, Mithril had bent over backwards to preserve Kaname’s standing in society. Using careful information control, bribes, and exploitation of the press’s self-restraint on matters of ethics, they’d managed to keep the media quiet. The same went for the local government.

Mithril’s AI system continued to spread false information on the internet as well. If anyone, based on the facts, showed signs of suspecting a conspiracy, it would call them, “the tinfoil hat brigade;” then, through a different sockpuppet, it would forward an even more radical viewpoint. Through this combination of exhausting arguments and slander, it could confuse real points of interest and debate. Some people would never lose sight of the real issue regardless, but these were one in a hundred. If that intelligent someone continued to express suspicions, the AI would repeat its tactics in a subtly different pattern. A human might get tired, but an AI wouldn’t.

Then, with the commenters unable to reach any particular conclusion, the girl in question would fade away behind a veil of vague speculation. Most people’s conception of the incidents would remain on the level of, “Oh, I think I heard about that somewhere.”

This was a method of information warfare used not just by Mithril, but by intelligence agencies and mega-corporations all around the world. It wasn’t hard to do, provided you had the cash to get the right people and equipment.

Still, even that had its limits. Kaname could certainly remain anonymous in society as a whole. But in the 1,200-person microcosm of a school, even pressure, bribes, and information manipulation couldn’t be reliably effective. Hayashimizu was right that they were depending on the students’ inherent naivete. His diagnosis was formed by the instinct of someone who’d been watching the people of the school for a long time.

Was there any way to turn Kaname back into the person she’d been before, someone without any value to the enemy? That was the only way Sousuke could imagine ever sending her back to her life after this. He had been thinking it over for a while.

For instance...

After the Hong Kong incident, Sousuke had proposed an idea to Tessa. What if they collected everything Kaname knew in a report and published it, anonymously, all over the world? After all, it wasn’t she herself they wanted, but the technological information she possessed.

In response, she’d given him a very sad, but enigmatic smile. Then she’d said, “Sagara-san, do you think no one’s ever tried that?” Tessa didn’t explain how she knew, but she could tell him with certainty that it wouldn’t work. If people were crowding around a gold mine, and you gathered up a few nuggets, offered them up, and said, “That’s all there is,” they wouldn’t just pack up their shovels and go.

And the Whispered weren’t the lucky people who found the mine. They were essentially the mine itself.

It wasn’t a gift. It was a curse. There was no way to escape their fate.

How in the world could Sousuke tell Kaname that terrible truth? He felt his hands tense on the steering wheel. “Chidori...” He struggled to tell her the words he’d failed to say yesterday, just before he’d offered to hold hands on the way home: Let’s throw it all away and run away together.

I don’t care about anything anymore. Let’s go somewhere nobody knows us, change our names and live in secret. I don’t care if we’re poor. We don’t need money. We can steal food when we get hungry. Let’s shut our eyes and ears to what’s going on in the world and live on. Maybe someday, things really will calm down. Then you and I can live in peace... together...

Just then, Leonard’s words played back in his mind: You’ve killed over three times that many... A man who’s killed over a hundred people... It doesn’t seem fair... And worse, he was right.

Not everyone Sousuke had killed had been on the battlefield. He’d shot weeping, fleeing enemies in the back, blown up trucks full of nervous new recruits. To cover their group’s tracks, he’d even shot hostages begging for their lives. He hadn’t done any of it because he enjoyed it. He’d just seen it as necessary. But still, it was the truth.

Not everything he’d experienced in Tokyo during these last nine months had been positive. He’d also been forced to confront how blood-soaked and dirty his life had once been. Can anyone really love me? Sousuke found himself wondering. Do I even have the right to run away with her? Do I deserve to be at peace? She really must think of me as a monster.

“What is it?” Kaname asked.

“Nothing,” Sousuke replied and, in the end, didn’t say anything. He felt a chasm between them, deep and wide. Nothing had changed since then. They were still where they had been nine months ago, wandering lost in the darkness and rain of the North Korean mountains.

“All right...” Kaname finished changing. She gave permission, and he righted the rear-view mirror. She was now dressed in her street clothes, turning the vegetable juice bottle over in her hands. “It’s too quiet... can we put on the radio?”

“Good idea.” He turned the FM on, with the volume low. A sad and lonely duet was playing. She didn’t ask him to change the station, but just silently chewed on her CalorieMate until the song ended.

“There we are. Wasn’t that nice? That was Peter Gabriel’s Mercy Street,” said the male DJ’s soothing voice. “We were going to play you another song, but we’ve just received an urgent bulletin. We’re going live to Miss Kobayashi in the broadcast center.”

A female newscaster took over. “Kobayashi here. We’ve just received word of a massive explosion in metropolitan Sydney, Australia. According to the AP report, at 7:30 Japan Time today, a blast was heard in downtown Sydney, with flames sighted somewhere near a building’s 25th floor. We have no information about possible casualties. The building in question was... ah, it says it was the headquarters of a security company called Argyros. We don’t yet know if it was an accident or an act of terrorism. We also have no information about whether any Japanese citizens were on the company payroll—”

The Argyros Building... Mithril’s operations headquarters? Sousuke quickly pulled out his pocket terminal and called up the screen for the terrestrial TV line.

The image showed an office quarter in the early morning light. The feed seemed to be taken from the roof of a building, showing smoke pouring out of one of the buildings nearby. At a glance, he could tell that it had been hit by an explosive from the outside—probably a bomb in the 1000-pound class. In fact, it had been hit with several of them.

No matter how good their security systems were, the operations headquarters hadn’t stood a chance. Had they managed to drop a GPS-guided bomb from extremely long range?

“What happened?” Kaname’s voice was trembling as she leaned over his shoulder to peer at the screen.

Sousuke used his satellite transceiver to contact the Merida Island base. “What’s your status?” he asked.

The response came from a female NCO in the command center. “I don’t know,” she told him, sounding nervous. “All we know is that operations HQ was bombed, and we haven’t heard from them since.” They must have already heard about Sydney. “But there’s more,” she went on. “We can’t reach the Mediterranean or South Atlantic Battle Groups... and the Indian Ocean Battle Group just sent us a warning. Five minutes ago, several cruise missiles were spotted approaching their base, and—”

Static washed over the transmission for a second, but it recovered immediately. “...spond. Uruz-7... Ah, it’s back. They seem to be jamming us somehow. E and D channels... Ah, what’s going on?”

“Are you all right?” Sousuke asked. “Shinohara?”

“I’m sorry,” Shinohara replied. “The major and colonel are too busy to talk. I’ll give you Captain Clouseau.”

He heard another rush of static, and then a man’s voice came on. “I’m on. It’s me, Sergeant.” This was the SRT’s commander, Ben Clouseau.

“Captain,” Sousuke acknowledged succinctly.

“We still don’t know the full situation,” Clouseau told him. “The other battle groups’ bases appear to be under attack. Merida Island is on high alert. It’s hard to imagine, but this is an all-out offensive. Anything could happen now.”

“An all-out offensive?” Sousuke replied, sounding shocked.

“I know, it looks bad. But we’ll stop them. Meet up with Gebo-9 as scheduled, then return here swiftly. No...” Clouseau stopped on the other side of the line. “Cancel that order. You won’t make it in time. Stand by. After your RV with the helicopter, head to Romeo-13 and wait for my contact.”

They wouldn’t make it in time. Right now, events were being measured in minutes, and even at top speed, their trip would take six hours. There was no point in trying. It would be smarter to secure the Arbalest and Sagara Sousuke at the midpoint, Romeo-13—a small private island in the Ogasawara Islands—to be used as necessary at a later time.

“Got that, Sergeant?” Clouseau demanded. “Keep the Arbalest safe. Angel, too.”

“Roger that,” said Sousuke. “And Captain... I told Major Kalinin last night, they’re getting serious. Be careful.”

The static grew louder. “You told the major what?”

“They’re—”

“Can’t hear you, Uruz-7! Repeat—” The static grew louder and louder, until the line went dead.

Quiet reigned in the van, and Sousuke fell silent. Kaname watched nervously as the scowl deepened on his face.

An all-out offensive? he wondered. Are they mad? Then it wasn’t just the operations division HQ in the city; they were attacking the other Mithril bases, too? Those impregnable fortresses? A few bombs wouldn’t make a dent in them—assuming a bomber could even get within range. In addition, the bases had military force, equipment, training, and radar. Taking Merida Island would require manpower on the scale of an entire marine regiment. And if they had mobilized a force of that size, Mithril would surely know about it already.

Although... With enough lambda driver-mounted ASes, and advanced enough technology... Think about it, Sousuke told himself. The enemy is even jamming Mithril’s communications, right? Do they really have the power for that?

“What happened?” Kaname asked hesitantly. Her tone was deeply cautious.

“We’re not going to Merida Island,” he told her.

“What?”

“We don’t know what could happen there. It’s too dangerous.”

“Dangerous... Why?”

Sousuke didn’t have time to answer Kaname’s question, as another call came through on his other FM transceiver. It was from the West Pacific Battle Group’s utility helicopter, the MH-67 Pave Mare, call sign Gebo-9. It was here to pick them up.

The signal was digital, so it came through clearly, though it was quite weak. No... that wasn’t it. The image on the TV was scrambled, as well. There was static everywhere. Is someone jamming all radio waves locally, Sousuke wondered, or is there wider-scale EM interference going on?

“Uruz-7 here,” he told the Pave Mare. “The LZ is secured.”

“Uruz-7. Gebo-9 here. We just passed the outskirts of Atsugi. ETA, five minutes. Please continue to secure the LZ,” said a woman’s voice through the static. It was First Lieutenant Eva Santos, of their aerial unit. He couldn’t count the number of times she’d saved them. Her voice was like the song of angels to ‘passengers’ like him and Kaname.

“Uruz-7, roger. Sitrep at the LZ is—” He stopped. A chill ran up his spine. “Sitrep is—” He cast a cautious glance out his window, and tightened his grip on his machine gun. Using his left hand, which was still clutching the radio, Sousuke gestured for Kaname to get down.

“What is it, Uruz-7?” Lieutenant Santos asked.

“Gebo-9,” he responded. “We’re currently surrounded. There’s at least five of those Alastor-types, plus infantry armed with assault rifles. Four... five... six... No, eight at least. They’re about eighty meters away, hiding in the brush to the northeast.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Santos replied incredulously. “They’re not just after Merida Island?”

“Hurry,” he said. “Please.”

“Gebo-9, roger. Hang in there, Sousuke!”

“I’ll try.” As the call ended, he removed his submachine gun’s safety. It would be one-on-thirteen, at the very least. Tactical fundamentals demanded that he assume there were more.

Can I do this? he asked himself. The odds of winning were impossible, but he didn’t have any choice but to try.

“Sousuke?” Kaname asked.

“Sorry, Chidori,” he whispered. “It’s going to be a long five minutes.”

In the parking lot, enemies were moving to surround the vehicle. He could identify at least thirteen, and about half of them were those robots. Based on the last time he’d tangled with them, Sousuke knew that he didn’t have the firepower to face that many Alastor-types.

“Lie down in the backseat. Do not sit up for any reason,” Sousuke said to Kaname.

She looked back at him nervously. “What are you—”

“Weren’t you listening?” he demanded. “The enemy is here. We need to escape.”

The second he turned the key in the engine, Sousuke threw himself down into the passenger seat. The shot landed a second later. Cracks webbed across the van’s windshield as a bullet tore through the reinforced glass with the pop. It tore off the headrest; moments later and it would have been Sousuke’s head. It was a move he’d expected. The enemy wasn’t stupid, so of course they’d have a sniper with eyes on the driver’s seat.

Kaname let out a short cry as the backseat where she lay was bathed in a mess of padding and synthetic leather.

“Stay down!” Sousuke slammed his foot down on the accelerator, still ducking his head, and the van took off at full throttle. The tires smoked and skidded a little on the pavement, but he’d been warming up the engine every hour or so overnight, so it wasn’t that hard to get going.

A few more shots came from a different direction, peppering the driver’s side door and the hood. Again and again, their vehicle was assaulted by metal scraping sounds. Sousuke sat up, gave the steering wheel a turn, and took them away from the parking lot’s exit—he knew there would be an ambush set up there—heading for the opposite end of the lot, instead.

A round of machine gun fire riddled the van’s right side, focused on the undercarriage. From the sound alone, he could tell that they were 5.56mm shots from a German-made machine gun. No matter, then, Sousuke decided. My bulletproof tires can resist shots of that caliber. He kept accelerating, and then slammed into the chain link fence on the parking lot’s far side.

Three shadows appeared ahead of him, hulking figures in black trench coats, pointing their arm-mounted rifles at him. Alastors, he registered grimly.

Sousuke switched to his high beams, and kept plowing forward. The enemy didn’t flinch—their behavior wasn’t human. Their precisely-aimed shots pounded the driver’s side again and again, leaving the windshield white with cracks.

In response, Sousuke ducked to avoid the shots and stepped harder on the gas, rushing straight for the three robotic enemies. A crash. Kaname shrieked and bounced in the backseat behind him. He’d knocked one of the Alastors to the side, but the other two had latched on to the van, clinging to it with monstrous endurance. One was on the hood and the other on the passenger-side door—in other words, right in front of him.

Sousuke couldn’t afford to stop. If he stopped, even for an instant, he’d be dead. The wheel tried to spin out of control, but he held it tightly, letting momentum carry him into the fence. There was an ear-piercing screech and a shower of sparks as the van rocked wildly up and down. The Alastors held on. The van skidded sideways, dragging broken fencing along in its wake.

Without even time to breathe, Sousuke drove straight down the city road he’d come out onto. His vehicle began to pick up speed again, and the Alastor on the passenger side showered the bulletproof glass with close-range rifle fire. Fragments flew, and the glass grew more and more pulverized. The enemy on the hood pulled back its fist, then slammed it down into the windshield with incredible power. Once it broke through, the next thing it hit would be the driver.

Sousuke, still accelerating, jerked the wheel to the left to slam the van into the block wall of a civilian residence. This ground the Alastor on the passenger side against the concrete. Yet the enemy held tight to the window frame, refusing to let go. Cold and emotionless, it reached out to attack Sousuke again.

Sousuke wrenched the van away from the wall, then slammed against it once more, harder this time. The Alastor fell to the pavement at last, its grip popping free like a snapped rubber band.

“Sousuke, ahead of you!!”

He didn’t have time for a sigh of relief. Kaname’s cry pulled his attention forward in time to see the remaining Alastor break through the windshield and reach out for his collar. No, he realized. It wasn’t trying to grab him—it was pointing its arm-mounted rifle at his head.

Sousuke gritted his teeth and slammed the brakes as hard as he could. The van pitched forward, which threw the enemy’s aim off. The muzzle flash was blinding, and the bullet just missed his head.

He’d managed to close his eyes, but his proximity to the shot meant the sound hit him like a shockwave, rendering his right ear useless. All Sousuke could hear from it now was a loud ringing sound, and his sense of balance became hazy. There was also smoke in his eyes, and for a second, he couldn’t see. His head was swimming.

“It’s still there!” Kaname’s voice was all he had to rely on. He groped around, found the submachine gun in the passenger seat, and unloaded in the enemy’s direction on full automatic. The Alastor jerked back again, but didn’t let go. Sousuke aimed for where he thought the enemy’s wrist was, and emptied his clip.

Some kind of shrapnel pinged around the van’s interior, and he felt a pain run up his own left arm as the enemy’s wrist snapped. Wiping at his tearing eyes, Sousuke turned his gaze forward, and saw that the Alastor was still hanging to the van’s hood by a thread. He jerked the steering wheel, first to the right, then to the left. At last, unable to keep its balance any longer, the robot tumbled off onto the street.

Sousuke accelerated immediately. The vehicle’s suspension and transmission let out dual whines of protest. He tried to check behind him, but the rear-view mirror was gone.

“Chidori, were you hurt?!” Sousuke screamed, trying to be heard over the rushing wind. He could barely hear anything in his right ear.

“I’m... okay,” she answered cautiously.

There was a black sedan after them now, so he didn’t have time to check on her. As he tried to turn right at an intersection, Sousuke’s hand slipped on the wheel, which had become slick with something. Blood, he realized. My blood. A piece of shrapnel the size of a postage stamp had embedded itself in his arm, which was now soaked from the elbow down. He felt no shock at the realization. His experience told him, coldly, that he could still function. There would be time to treat his arm later.

Sousuke swapped the clip in his submachine gun and plowed through a red light, and in doing so, just managed to avoid killing an office worker on her way to work.

“Sousuke?!” Kaname cried out in alarm.

“They’ll kill us if we stop!”

“But—”

“Didn’t you hear me?” he yelled. “Stay down!”

Another shot hit them. This one came from the pursuing car, whose drivers didn’t seem to care at all about the fact that they were in an urban area.

“C-Can I try shooting?” Kaname asked.

“No,” Sousuke denied flatly. “Don’t.”

“But... why—”

“Don’t touch the gun!” He couldn’t count on someone untrained to provide cover fire. And... besides that, she shouldn’t be holding a gun. He simply couldn’t allow it.

Communications to the Indian Ocean Battle Group had been completely cut off. The officer in charge had tried various methods; she even tried using civilian telephone lines as an intermediary, but none of it had worked.

“This isn’t just jamming. Even the commercial satellite channels are down... what’s going on?” Tessa whispered to herself. She was currently seated in the commander’s chair in the command center of Merida Island Base. She hadn’t changed since the night before, having remained on standby the entire time, aside from brief naps here and there. As a result, though she was dressed in her usual trim uniform, she looked a little more rumpled than usual.

She was worried about Admiral Borda, whom she thought of as an uncle. She was worried for Sousuke and Kaname, too. But she couldn’t afford to voice these fears.

“It’s a global phenomenon, Colonel,” communications officer Shinohara said, tapping busily at her panel. “Our spy satellites are down, too... including Sting. And it isn’t just ours. Commercial satellites, plus American military satellites like Navstar, Comstar, and the Keyhole series, all seem to be in even worse shape than ours. The updates we were getting from various departments about Sydney have also dried up.”

Tessa gritted her teeth. “A solar wind. An incredibly massive instance.” Solar winds were electromagnetic storms that originated from the Sun. During sunspot-active periods, they would shower Earth with intense electromagnetic activity from time to time. Nowadays, authorities could predict high and low sunspot periods, and put out daily risk reports. Defensive measures had gotten rather good as well, so most of the time, they pulled through high-risk periods with only minor interference in satellites and delicate terrestrial electronics.

Solar winds were sort of like earthquakes; most of them were minor, but occasionally, a major one occurred. These “major earthquakes” were impossible to predict with any degree of certainty. Even if you’d identified the possibility and worked to mitigate risk, you never knew exactly when they might happen. It was like a stock market crash, or a pandemic.

If a powerful solar wind like that hit Earth, the damage would be on the scale of an EMP from a nuclear bomb. Even if the impact to humans themselves was minor, the event would do serious damage to electronics—including, of course, wired communications. Of course, it could be restored; the interference and breakdowns would recover in a very short time.

But it would still take time.

“At present, long-range communication methods that rely on satellite channels or ionosphere reflection are unusable, whether military or commercial,” Shinohara reported. “VHF and ELF are working, but... Also, Internet servers everywhere are down, and we’re in a vicious cycle of panic and overloads. There’s massive air traffic control confusion in both commercial and military sectors in the area ranging from the American West Coast to the Indian Ocean. They’ll probably get back up eventually, but with unprecedented solar activity like this—”

“The problem isn’t the solar winds themselves,” said Tessa’s executive officer, Lieutenant Colonel Richard Mardukas. He’d always been a moody man, but now he seemed even more tense than usual. “I’ve experienced similar issues in the past. During disasters like these, typically, both sides call a truce. But in this case, the enemy has decided to exploit it. That’s the issue.”

Somehow, the enemy had timed their all-out offensive on Mithril’s bases to correspond with an unpredictable “electromagnetic earthquake.”

“Even if the enemy did have some idea it was coming... it seems like the odds of successful coordination would be poor. What do you think, Major?” Mardukas asked Major Kalinin, who was currently discussing the base’s security measures with Captain Clouseau of the SRT.

“Ah...” Kalinin turned back, fell silent for a moment, and then shook his head blankly. “Right now... all we can do is be on our guard.”

“I am aware of that,” Mardukas said tartly. “What is your opinion?”

“I don’t know. I—”

Tessa scowled at his indecision, which was unusual for him. “Major?”

“Well... if the enemy does come, it will be soon,” Kalinin finally said. “I’ve put out an order for all usable utility helicopters to go on patrol. We’ll need anti-air defenses, too. Five FAV-8s, equipped with AMRAAMs...”

Just then, the officer in charge of the anti-air alert system screamed, “They’re here! Ultrafast cruise missiles. Eight of them. Area D4. Distance, seventy miles. Speed, Mach 6.3. Time to impact—”

“—Sixty-five seconds. Intercept. Red alert. Evacuate all staff stationed at above-ground observation posts,” Tessa ordered immediately. The air raid sirens, which they’d never used outside of drills, began to ring with a chilling sound. The command center’s lighting changed to red, and the words “RED ALERT 1” began to scroll across the screen. “Air traffic control. Have Gebo-6 on the runway leave their helicopter and evacuate. Same to all nearby ground personnel.”

“R-Roger. Should Gebo-5 on the runway—”

“Emergency takeoff,” Tessa said. “Have them get as high as they can.”

“Roger.” As Tessa gave the orders, points of light on the screen—the missiles—were inching closer to Merida Island. These were cutting-edge Fast Hawks, the next generation in the family of subsonic Tomahawks, approaching from high altitude at ultrafast speeds—speeds that would make them hard to intercept. The base’s anti-ballistic missiles probably couldn’t stop them. If their warning radar hadn’t been functioning at less than half capability, maybe they could have done something, but...

Tessa’s shock at learning that the enemy had such equipment at their disposal was so great that she didn’t even have time to complain about their handicap. Her only options now were to save as many people and prevent as much damage as possible.

《—Alert. Multiple ultrafast missiles currently approaching base. All ground personnel, cease working and evacuate underground. This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill—》 the AI’s voice announced unconcernedly. Most Merida Island facilities, including the command center, were underground. It was a structure similar to the Gremikha Naval Base on the Kola Peninsula, where the Soviets moored their Typhoon-class submarines.

While Tessa gave specific orders, Merida Island’s anti-air missiles activated and moved to intercept the incoming hostiles. There was no video, no sound—just green points of light on a screen that approached the enemy missiles at admirable speed.

The communications officer gave her reports with impressive calm. “Interception successful on No. 3. The rest are approaching unimpeded.”

Another officer chimed in. “Second enemy wave detected. Area E4. Between nine and twelve missiles. Distance 85—”

“Send all missiles to intercept.”

“Roger. Firing six through nine with BOL.” The island’s various missile launchers fired the last of their remaining payloads. There was no point in holding back now; most, if not all, of their above-ground anti-air systems were likely to be destroyed when the first wave hit.

“F-First wave... five seconds to impact.”

“Remain calm.”

They’d done everything they could.

Tessa leaned back in her chair and let out a soft sigh, emanating a dignity that would escape even the most veteran of commanders. “If they’re nuclear,” she said simply, “we’ll be dead in an instant.”

The points of light on the screen reached Merida Island.

For the first time... For the very first time, the command center felt the impact of combat.

The black sedan pulled up beside Kaname and Sousuke’s van, and rammed them so hard they nearly went into a spin. Sousuke clamped down on the rebelling steering wheel with one hand, then thrust his submachine gun out the window and fired.

The armor-piercing rounds rained into the driver’s side of the pursuers’ car and filled the bulletproof glass with holes. The enemy fired back. Sousuke dodged the attack with a sudden brake, then unloaded the rest of his clip at them.

A blood splatter popped inside the enemy car—the driver. The sedan veered away, receding in his vision. But just before hitting the shoulder, the vehicle squealed back in the other direction and slammed into them again. This time, it hit them from behind and to the right. Their van’s rear bumper lifted into the air, throwing it completely off-balance.

Kaname screamed at the top of her lungs. Sousuke calmly tried a countersteer in an attempt to regain control of the vehicle, but it failed. It had been like a hit from a sledgehammer, and this time, they went completely out of control. There was a truck driving along at normal speed right ahead of them, and there was no way for Sousuke to avoid it.

The view of the early-morning highway outside the windows began to tilt in his vision, and at some point, everything turned upside-down. The roof of their van hit the asphalt, then went screaming along the pavement. The van’s slide continued into the road and, eventually, it came to a stop in the center of the intersection.

Sousuke felt a stinging pain in his head and his shoulder. The smell of burning metal stung his nostrils. “Chidori?” he croaked out, but Kaname didn’t respond. “Chidori?!”

The driver’s side door had collapsed and wouldn’t open. After gathering up all the equipment he could find, Sousuke crawled out of the window. The pursuer’s car was also on its side, about sixty meters behind them, and spitting steam from its rear. Beyond it was the truck he’d hit.

“H-Hey... are you okay?!” The driver of a car that had stopped nearby asked, approaching with a concerned expression. Then he noticed Sousuke—battered, bloody, and carrying a submachine gun—and the van full of bullet holes, and the man’s jaw dropped in shock.

“Out of the way,” Sousuke ordered, pushing past the man with his submachine gun in both hands. He let out a series of three-round bursts at his enemy, who was crawling out of the pursuing car. The enemy fell, and lay motionless.

The onlooker gasped, his knees buckling in shock. Rubberneckers watching from afar began to scream and run. Ignoring the chaos his rampage had inspired, Sousuke knelt down and peeked into the back seat of his van, where Kaname was lying on the now upside-down roof. She had no injuries that he could see.

“Chido—” He was about to shout her name, but stopped himself. The man behind him might hear. He knew that preserving her anonymity wouldn’t help her return to her normal life now, but... Sousuke still found himself pointlessly concerned about it.

He thrust his upper torso through the broken window and dragged Kaname out. “Hang in there,” he told her urgently.

“How many times is this now?” she breathed back wearily. “I’m never getting... in a car with you again...”

“Sorry,” he apologized, “but you’ll need to do it many more times if I’m going to protect you.” There was a squeal of tires in the distance, as two more vans approached the site of the accident. “Can you get up?” he asked her.

“I think so...”

“Can you run?” he asked next.

“Guess I’d better, huh?”

“Affirmative.” Sousuke shouldered Kaname’s bag, grabbed her arm, and took off. She followed after him shakily, her slender legs seemingly about to give out at any moment.

They entered an alley and headed west. Sousuke knew they would try to surround him, so they had to move westward as quickly as possible. Just a little more running would bring them to a large nature park; the helicopter would be able to land there.

Sousuke worked his radio as he ran, and finally got in touch with Lieutenant Santos. “Uruz-7 to Gebo-9. Can you read me?”

“Gebo-9 here,” Lieutenant Santos radioed back immediately. “You’re breaking up. Report your present location. Repeat, report your present—”

“Change of LZ. Pick me up in the park three kilometers west. I repeat, pick me up in—” There was a hiss of static, a beep, and then silence. It was no use. Sousuke wasn’t sure why—maybe shrapnel, or trauma from the crash—but his transceiver was no longer working. Its screen was a mess of meaningless code.

“Dammit,” Sousuke cursed, and tossed the transceiver away. He didn’t even have time to worry about protecting its encrypted data.

They’d reached a set of intertwining residential streets, but kept on running. He could hear a dog barking nearby. A local housewife turning a corner screamed and dropped her trash bags.

“Wait... my ankle!” Kaname stumbled, and let out a pitiful cry.

“No stopping,” he yelled back.

“It hurts!”

“Endure it.” Sousuke continued to yank her along by the wrist, his gun pointed behind him.

An Alastor appeared, silently vaulting a private fence. He shot at its head, and while it was crossing its arms to protect its sensors, Sousuke pulled out a hand grenade and yanked the pin with his mouth. He tossed it, underhand, at the robot, then spun around and pulled Kaname away. They hid behind a nearby electric pole as the grenade rolled under the Alastor’s feet and exploded with a blast and a shockwave.

Shrapnel from the bursting grenade ricocheted off the electric pole and block fence, and Sousuke hissed quietly. The street was a mess of billowing smoke. Without time to check the enemy’s status, he just dashed out immediately, dragging Kaname in his wake. Even if the blast had hit, he knew that it wouldn’t do much more than slow the Alastor down.

“Ahhh! Wahhh!” On the street, a boy of elementary school age was clutching his right leg and wailing. He’d been on his way to school when shrapnel from the distant blast had hit him. Sousuke felt bad for him, but he didn’t have time to help. He pulled Kaname past the boy, whose hands were stained red.

“What are you doing?!” Kaname’s voice was aghast. “Didn’t you see that you hurt that kid?!”

“Would you rather have died back there?!” Sousuke demanded.

“I—”

“Don’t think, just run!” Ignoring her pale face and trembling hands, Sousuke picked up the pace. The enemy’s encirclement was nearly complete, he knew, and they could be attacked from any direction now. Their enemy wasn’t stupid—the next time they came at him, he’d be finished. West was the only way out, and even that window was gradually closing.

He could hear the wail of an ambulance in the distance as they shot out from the residential district and cut across the street, jumping over the azalea bushes to enter the nature park. Branches of cherry trees hung bare beneath the cold winter sky.

From above, Sousuke could hear the sound of a helicopter’s rotors. Our helicopter, he realized with relief. It was the Pave Mare, being piloted by Lieutenant Santos. It sounded like the beating of an angel’s wings. She managed to track us down after all.

But the Alastor he’d hit with a grenade earlier was still chasing them, its movements awkward. Behind him, at 7 o’clock, was a human pursuer holding a rifle. “Great,” he muttered.

“I can’t do it,” Kaname said, gasping for breath. “I can’t run anymore.”

“Help is on the way,” he urged her, lending her a shoulder. “Hang in there.” He began to dish out cover fire as they ran. The enemy fired back. Bullets peppered the area around them, sending fragments flying from nearby trees and branches.

Sousuke felt a strange sense of déjà vu: the pain of his wounds and the feel of her weight; the pounding of his heart and his struggle for breath. The drifting of the scenery slowed around him. He’d been through this scenario before, many times, with someone else leaning on him. Someone, in some jungle—some despairing ruin, far away. But right now, he was in Tokyo, the place he’d known for nine months.

No, it wasn’t—this was his world now, the battlefield.

Through a gap in the trees he could see a bleak clearing, and they cut across a tree-lined path. Sousuke threw a smoke bomb toward the center of the space to let their allies know where they were. Yellow smoke billowed out of the canister. He immediately spun around and used a large tree as a shield to return fire.

A shot hit nearby. It came from his right.

Sousuke pulled Kaname to the ground and returned fire. Their attacker fell, holding his side, crying and screaming. A shot to the head finished him off. Without missing a beat, Sousuke started firing at enemies in the other direction, swapping out his magazine with a bloodstained hand.

Above them, about a hundred meters away, he could see pale blue electric sparks dancing against the sky. A helicopter shutting off its ECS—a Mithril MH-67 Pave Mare—appeared, and began to circle heavily above.

The helicopter turned its starboard side to the enemy, and a machine gun with a revolving barrel opened fire on their pursuers. It was a weapon known as a minigun, and bullets rained down on the enemy at a rate of six thousand shots per minute—in other words, a hundred shots per second.

“Great,” Sousuke sighed in relief. Indeed, the cavalry had arrived.

The powerful support fire from the skies above tore the Alastor to pieces. Several human infantry, too, were reduced to red mist by the rain of bullets. Fragments of human bodies, which had been shredded along with their equipment, were scattered across the dawn-drenched park.

Kaname averted her eyes from the tragedy with a moan, shaking her head as if to wake herself from a nightmare. She was as white as a sheet, and trembling so hard that it looked physically painful.

Santos’s voice came back out over the external speakers. “Get around to the north side! We’ll take you on in the back!” The Pave Mare was descending into the smoke bomb’s location. The gale kicked up by the rotors caused the undergrowth in the park to sway and the remaining smoke to swirl and spiral as it rose. Through it all, the allied machine gun continued to rain down fire.

“Get up,” said Sousuke, tugging on Kaname’s arm.

Just then, he saw an orange flash in the corner of his vision. He knew immediately that it was a high-caliber shoulder-fired missile; an enemy. It wasn’t aimed at them, but at the descending helicopter, which it hit right in its center mass. Sousuke felt the shockwave pass through his body, just before he saw the explosion.

There was a white flash followed by red flame as the Pave Mare, which had been hovering thirty meters above, pitched over and hit the ground back-first. The tail smashed inward. The body buckled. The rotors went flying in random directions, like massive throwing knives. One stuck into the ground, one went flying into the distance, one cut a nearby tree in half...

Sousuke sucked in a breath. Its tank of jet fuel had caught fire, and flames consumed the Pave Mare. Burning parts of all sizes drew trails of smoke from the body of the helicopter as they scattered across the area. It had all happened too fast, but he had to accept it: Santos and the others must have died on impact.

He remembered the casual conversations he’d exchanged with the crew of the Gebo-9. Their confident smiles flashed through the back of his mind. The family photos, treasured by one member of the crew. The scene at the party where Santos had teased Tessa...

All of them, in an instant...

With a single rocket strike...

Kaname let out a groan of despair, but Sousuke didn’t have time to stare numbly at the sight. The one who’d fired the missile, launcher still on his shoulder, was trying to retreat behind the underbrush.

Sousuke took aim. He fired. Instant kill.

Where’s the next one? Where’s my next enemy? Turning his back on the helicopter’s burning wreckage, Sousuke continued firing his machine gun.

“No!” Kaname shrieked. “Stop it!”

“Get down!!” he yelled back.

“No!”

Forcing the frantically screaming and weeping Kaname down to the ground, Sousuke continued to fire at his enemies.

His ammo was running low. He had no grenades, and there was no backup coming. Nowhere left to run. Game over.

No—

《Activating emergency evacuation mode based on special order contained in File X1-01. Executing override on lock of external speaker voice.》

The voice was coming from somewhere nearby. No, it was coming from the burning wreckage behind him. It was a low voice: calm, male, and synthetic.

《This is serial number C-002, ARX-7. Codename: Arbalest. If anyone associated with this machine is within a radius of one hundred meters, please provide oral confirmation.》

“Al,” Sousuke yelled back. “Are you alive?”

《Checking. Sergeant Sagara Sousuke confirmed. Affirmative, Uruz-7.》 The arm slave stored in the Pave Mare’s cargo hold, the Arbalest, had survived. 《I am being exposed to temperatures that exceed what this machine can endure. Permission to evacuate?》

“Granted. Come here right now.”

《Roger.》

The ugly wreckage of the cargo hold burst open from the inside, and a dark silhouette rose to its feet. Parting the superheated metal and flame around it, the eight-meter-tall form began to emerge from the Pave Mare’s wreckage.

Fortunately, the strikes hadn’t been nuclear. But their aim had been extremely precise.

A third wave of enemy missiles had come as well, and in total, the base had probably taken eighteen hits of 500-pound explosives. The anti-air radar system, the communications system, the anti-ballistics systems, the runways, watch towers, and multiple ammunition storage facilities—all had been destroyed. The damage had also extended underground in significant ways. The work of putting out fires had only begun, and there was no knowing how long it would take—or if it would ultimately even matter.

Tessa looked silently at the now-worthless data on the screen, and said, “Personnel losses?”

“Twenty-eight lightly injured, eleven heavily injured...” After a pause, the security officer said, “Five dead. The crew of the second observation post didn’t get out in time.”

“I see,” she acknowledged, as calmly as if he’d given her the weather report. She knew the names and faces of those who had died. She even knew their favorite musical genres.

“Captain...”

“This is only the start,” Tessa said, stopping Mardukas before he could offer words of comfort. In what was a surprise even to herself, the trembling in her hands was mild. “The enemy will send more bombs,” she continued. “Ground troops, too, most likely. They’ll use aircraft, this time... Air traffic control. What’s the status of our runways?”

“They’re in bad shape.” The air traffic control officer projected the structural damage onto their screen. “So are the elevators and the dome. Minimum of six hours to get airborne.”

“We won’t make it in time,” Tessa said. The base had lost nearly all of its anti-air capabilities. The only way to drive back the enemy planes approaching Merida Island now would be to deploy Super Harriers equipped with the latest mid-range missiles, but even the massive elevator used to convey those craft from the hangar to the surface had been destroyed. Just cleaning up all the rubble would take longer than a day. The air traffic control officer’s ETA was based on the assumption that the ASes could help.

“Message from Gebo-5. Ten large aircraft approaching from Sector F8. Transports and bombers.” With the base’s radar destroyed, they had to rely on that of the helicopter squadron that had taken off earlier.

“They really are serious...” Tessa realized.

“Indeed,” Mardukas agreed.

The enemy was serious about taking the island. Was it possible to oppose them? Or should they simply run? No... we don’t even have that choice. Tessa knew that very well.

The de Danaan was undergoing maintenance. They’d been hurrying the work along since yesterday, but it still wasn’t something they could rush to instant completion. In other words, the enemy had sealed all routes off the island—both by sky and by sea—for at least a few hours.

It was a brilliant ambush, she had to admit. Exploiting the confusion in their communications and radar networks, then stealing their eyes and legs away from them. Now they were free to pound on them at will.

But Tessa wasn’t about to simply let the enemy have their way with her. If they want a fight, I’ll give them one, she decided. Let’s give them a bloody nose—

“Major Kalinin,” Tessa ordered crisply, “get all ASes warmed up. Equip them all with Loadout A, including the training M6s. Have six of them out on the north shore.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Colonel. Report from Gebo-3 on patrol!” one of the officers said nervously. “Sector G2. Approaching... ships? Not sure what they are exactly, but they’re coming in over the ocean. Infrared’s picking up three of them.”

“Clarify, please. What are they sending at us?”

“Sorry. They don’t fit into known designation categories... Gebo-3 is having trouble describing them, too. No, wait, we have video. Sending it to you now.”

“Hurry,” Tessa told him.

The command center’s map of the grounds minimized, to be replaced by a feed from Gebo-3’s optical sensors, being taken at extremely high magnification.

Sector G2 was a section of ocean thirty miles to the northwest of Merida Island. It was home to a coral reef that had sunk decades ago, so the area was very shallow. Three “somethings” were there, moving southeast through the green sea. At first, it just looked like three fat men striding solemnly through the waves, up to their waists in the seawater, and holding what looked like long clothes-hanger poles in their hands.

But that wasn’t what they were. The three “men” were huge—towering would be an appropriate term—and they were dressed in clunky blue armor. Their chests were like inverted triangles covered in old-fashioned plates, with enormous shoulders the size of gas holders.

“Behemoths?!” Tessa exclaimed. It was those massive ASes—Behemoths—the same model as the one that had wreaked havoc six months ago in Ariake. Now there were three of them, and they were heading for Merida Island. They appeared to be moving slowly, but that was a matter of scale; in fact, they must have been traveling at over thirty knots. In other words, they’d reach the base in an hour.

Three Behemoths: superweapons mounted with lambda drivers that could repel any and all enemy shots. What looked like clothes-hanger poles were actually massive rifles, cannons of such tremendous caliber that they looked like they could take out a fortress in one hit. Terrifying enemies that could only be opposed by the Arbalest—that was what was currently approaching the base.

Sousuke had boarded the Arbalest and was carrying Kaname out of the nature park, an act which only took two or three jumps for the third-generation AS. He’d had no choice but to abandon the remains of the crashed Pave Mare.

Next, he called up his digital map.

It was rush hour, so the north—south highway was jammed with traffic. Sousuke used this as a cover to take his machine north, using his ECS where necessary; activating invisibility mode made it even harder for the enemy to track them. Normally, the sight of his machine would cause spectators’ hearts to leap into their throats, but with invisibility mode engaged, they only looked around suspiciously at the nearby sound of an engine and the smell of ozone.

Still, the city was in chaos as sirens blared, and police helicopters roamed the skies.

He cut through Mitaka into Kichijoji, where the roads were packed with cars. Sousuke began to leap from building to building. The Arbalest vaulted a JR track and landed on top of a tenement, all while remaining totally invisible.

Sousuke set Kaname down on the roof and opened the hatch. “Mode 4, alert standby,” he said to his AI. “Don’t use active sensor, no matter what.”

《Learning message: Please explain meaning of, ‘No matter what.’》 Sousuke opened his mouth to yell, and, as if realizing it was coming, the Arbalest’s AI, Al, continued, 《Just joking. Did that help to calm your nerves?》

“You saved our lives today, so I’m going to pretend this never happened.”

《Thank you, Sergeant.》

Sousuke slid out of the cockpit, climbed down the arm and then ran up to Kaname. The Arbalest’s use of its ECS meant the air around them was crackling with electricity. As long as they were inside the invisibility field, none of them could be seen from the outside; not even her, sitting slumped in the machine’s hand.

Kaname spoke up, sounding completely exhausted. “Can we... rest now?”

“Yes,” Sousuke told her. “For a while, at least.”

“Okay...”

“Feeling better?”

“Superficially,” Kaname sighed. Her voice was gloomy. She rubbed her injured ankle, then placed a hand on the Arbalest’s finger. “It’s always there when we need it, huh?”

《Are you praising my specs, Ms. Chidori?》 Al’s words brought an awkward smile to Kaname’s face.

“Maybe. But...” She hesitated. “Santos-san was in that helicopter, wasn’t she?” Kaname knew Santos, too. They’d met several times since last autumn.

“Yes,” Sousuke said shortly.

“She... didn’t make it, did she?”

“No... I’m afraid not.”

Kaname clenched her hands into fists. “She died trying to save me, didn’t she?”

“No. It was for her mission.”

“But that’s what it comes down to, right?”

Sousuke fell silent.

“I’ve gotten so many people hurt...” Kaname hugged herself and looked down at her knees. “I haven’t even done anything... I’m sorry. But I... don’t think I can keep pretending to be strong.” Her voice was trembling. So was she.

“Chidori...”

“I’m scared,” said Kaname, cutting him off. “Of myself. Of them. And... I’m really sorry, but...” Her bangs had fallen to obscure her eyes, but he could see the tears dripping down her cheeks. “I’m scared of you, too.”

Sousuke had nothing to say to that.

“I don’t understand anything anymore,” she continued. “I want to be with you, but I’m scared. I want to be with you so much I can barely stand it, but I’m scared. I’m freaking out so much, I don’t know what to do...”

It was his first time ever hearing her voice so timid, but it all made sense. How stubborn has she made herself act, through all this, he wondered. How mature? How bold, how daring? But at the end of the day, Kaname was still a seventeen-year-old girl. No human being could keep calm forever in the face of such unthinkable violence.

Just then, she heard an electronic chirp from her jacket pocket. It was from her PHS; she’d gotten an email. Questioningly, eyes still pointed down, she pulled out her phone. He forced himself not to think about the fact that answering it would give their location away to the enemy.

After reading the email, Kaname cried as if she’d been struck. “No... no!”

“What is it?” Sousuke demanded to know.

“Kyoko’s... everyone’s...!” Kaname held up her PHS. The email had an image attached. It was of a roof—the roof of Jindai High School. The picture showed a female student—their classmate, Tokiwa Kyoko—with her hands tied behind her back. A brick of C4 explosive had been strapped to her body, and she looked as white as a sheet. She didn’t seem to understand what was happening to her.

The email read: “We’ve placed similar bombs throughout the school. If you want to save your friends, abandon your AS and come here. If you refuse, we’ll detonate them all.”