3: Damage Control

Sergeant Kurz Weber was running through Corridor No. 0, which passed straight through Merida Island Base, helping with fire suppression.

The raid had hit while he was on his morning jog, so he was still dressed in his sweats. He’d put on one of the regularly posted oxygen masks, used a hatchet to get past obstacles, and pulled an injured man out from under a steel girder. He’d taken a blast of seawater from a fireman’s hose, which meant he’d done the whole thing while soaked from head to toe.

Bellows and rebukes flew back and forth around him. The lights had gone out, so the corridor was dark. Steam was billowing everywhere. Water was raining down from above. Kurz could barely see five meters ahead of him as he carried the injured man to safety, then passed him off to the medical staff. “Second degree burns on his right arm! No smoke inhalation, and he’s conscious! He said his right ankle hurts!”

“Thanks, Sarge!” The injured man was carried off on a stretcher.

Kurz removed his mask. He took in a deep breath, and coughed a few times. “Dammit,” he grumbled. “Hell of a way to wake up in the morning...”

Then he tried using his base-internal portable phone. Fortunately, the channels were still online. He called the SRT’s commander, Clouseau, and found the line busy. Then he tried their sub-commander, Lieutenant Melissa Mao; this time, he got through.

“You’re all right?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“There are three Behemoths out there. Third hangar, ASAP.”

“Roger,” he replied, hanging up.

Mao wanted the crew assembled as soon as possible in the third hangar, which held their main ASes, the M9 Gernsbacks. She and Kurz were both professionals; they didn’t need to check up on each other, or share expressions of joy at the other’s safety. He could get an in-depth explanation later, too.

But...

“Did she say Behemoths?” he wondered out loud. Then he thought, Three of those freaking huge ASes? How the hell are we going to deal with that? Not even missiles or 76mm rounds work on those brutes...

Kurz flashed back to the scene in Ariake, Tokyo, six months ago. The ASes of the JSDF had been helpless before the Behemoth. The only reason they’d been able to stop it was because of Sousuke’s lambda driver-mounted AS, but even then, it had been a tough fight.

And they didn’t have Sousuke or the Arbalest on hand, at the moment.

When Kurz arrived in the third hangar, he found it already in a flurry of activity with preparations for the upcoming battle. First Lieutenant Sachs, head of the maintenance division, was shouting at his subordinates. Though the hangar had avoided taking damage from the air raid, it had switched to emergency lighting like the rest of the base. In the dim red glow, the M9 Gernsbacks, still connected to their power cables, released a low mechanical hum.

“Have you finished the parts swap on No. 3?!” Sachs yelled.

“Not yet!”

“The minute it’s done, move to prep! Skip everything up to Procedure C if you have to!”

“Roger!”

“You idiot! There!” Sachs barked, turning on someone else. “The 40mm rounds go that way!”

“What? But—”

“Ah, dammit, didn’t you hear me?! GECs should all be loaded in spot two!”

The AS operators had assembled in a corner of the hangar. There were eighteen of them in total, including operators for the old-model M6s. They were standing in front of a whiteboard, which was dotted with old ink marks.

“Sorry I’m late!” Kurz said to the others. Like him, they’d all come dressed in whatever they’d been wearing when they’d gotten the call. Clad in her officer’s uniform, Melissa Mao was no exception—she was wearing the same khaki skirt as Tessa, with a blouse—and looking troubled. These weren’t her usual fatigues, so she’d probably been preparing to do some desk work. Since her promotion to lieutenant, she’d been more frequently seen in the female officers’ uniform, the same one that Tessa wore.

“Everyone here?! Atten-SHUN!” Mao shouted, though she looked far from commanding at the moment.

Then Captain Clouseau, wearing beat-up fatigues that made it look as if he’d just pulled an all-nighter, stepped out in front of the dingy whiteboard. “We’re well past speculation at this point,” the African-Canadian captain said. “Amalgam is mounting an all-out offensive, and their power is greater than we imagined. They have three Behemoths, all approaching from Sector G2. They’ll enter firing range of our base in forty minutes.”

Kurz just refrained from clicking his tongue. Forty minutes? That’s no time at all, he thought. How’d we not see them until they got this close?

“As you know, the Behemoth was designed as an anti-AS gunboat,” Clouseau continued. “They’re probably here to wipe out our ASes, which comprise the last of our primary force. We won’t have CAS, but we’re still going to fight back.”

“Hey, hang on a minute,” Kurz said, raising his hand. “Those hulks have lambda drivers, right? There’s no way we could fight one, let alone three!”

“And yet we will,” Clouseau said quietly. “This base was designed to take a beating from above, but even that has its limits. If those Behemoths make landfall, they’ll destroy everything—including the de Danaan, which is currently undergoing maintenance in the dock.”

“But—”

“That’s our only way out of here,” Clouseau pointed out.

Kurz fell silent.

“This is an isolated island,” the captain continued. “No aid is coming, and I doubt our enemies are in the mood to take hostages. If we lose the de Danaan, the only option left will be death in this foxhole, along with everyone else in the battle group. Defeating the Behemoths is the only way to survive.”

A bitter silence consumed the hangar. The AS operators had all heard about the battle with the Behemoth in Ariake; they’d read the in-depth reports written by Sousuke, Kurz, and Tessa. They all knew there was no way to win. Clouseau and Mao did, too.

“Or, how about this?” It was Corporal Speck of the SRT who broke the silence. He was an American in his mid-20s, who had come out of the Navy SEALs. “We skip the suicide mission. We grab whatever rifles are handy and storm the command center.”

Mao, realizing what Speck was getting at, spoke up in a hiss. “Stop it, Speck.”

He ignored her and continued. “If we offer them Tessa and the de Danaan without a fight, they might let us go. They know Combat 101, right? They know that a losing force will fight tooth and nail in the clutch. They know they’ll suffer some pretty serious losses if they press this. A negotiated outcome benefits everyone.”

“Not one more word. This is desertion under fire and insubordination,” Clouseau said.

“Oh c’mon, man, we’re mercenaries,” Speck scoffed. “Operations HQ is up in flames, remember? Who’s even paying us now, Captain? You?”

“You son of a—”

“What, I’m supposed to just smile and die for the squad? This isn’t some schlocky Hollywood war flick, and I’m not some simpleminded do-gooder. Why the hell should I stay here and die like a dog?” Anger was coming out in his voice. If he’d thought there was any chance at all for them to survive, Speck wouldn’t be saying this. He’d never acted this way before.

But this situation was different. Their handicaps were too severe.

Speck wasn’t a bad person. He loved Tessa, and he’d said a few times over drinks at the pub before that he’d do anything for her. That just didn’t include dying for nothing, apparently—and Speck didn’t seem to be the only one who felt that way.

The atmosphere was stretched razor-thin, and tension ran through every person there.

That was when a new voice broke in.

“Sell me out, hmm? It’s not a bad plan.” It was Tessa. She was walking in from the hangar entrance, flanked by two PRT soldiers with automatic rifles slung over their shoulders.

“Colonel...”

“I thought this might happen,” she continued, “so I came to check on you.”

“You heard that?” Speck whispered dejectedly.

“Yes. At least part of it.”

“It’s nothing personal, I swear. I’m a businessman, okay?”

“I see.” Tessa nodded, then said to one of the soldiers by her side, “Let me borrow your pistol.”

The soldier hesitated for a moment before pulling the Swiss-made automatic pistol from his hip holster and handing it to Tessa.

“Thank you,” she said politely, while removing the gun’s safety and cocking the hammer. Her movements were slow but deliberate; the calm girl and the shining black gun. The muzzle remained pointed at the floor, but that action alone was enough to bring even more tension to the room.

“Some others here may feel the same way Speck-san does. But I cannot allow that. If I find anyone here plotting insurrection, I will shoot you to death, right here, right now.” With those words, a mechanical smile appeared on Tessa’s face.

Speck stared at her in disbelief for a second, and then he let out a small sigh and slumped his shoulders. “Look, don’t be crazy. I think you’re a nice girl—”

The shot resounded through the hangar. She’d fired without warning at Speck’s feet, and the ricochet scraped the concrete and embedded itself in the wall a long ways behind them.

“Remember your place, Corporal,” Tessa said, looking straight at Speck, who was understandably cowed. “Did you think I walked all the way here to weep and beg you to help me? That I would rely solely on your better nature, and request your loyalty based on pity?”

Speck held his breath.

“You’re here because you chose the path of a soldier,” Tessa reminded them ruthlessly. “It was your own decisions that led you into this predicament. Am I wrong?”

“Well—”

“Did you think I was nothing but a figurehead princess?”

Speck didn’t answer.

“Say it,” Tessa told him. “Who am I? My rank and title.” Her tone was gentle, as always. There was no threat in her quiet words, yet there was a strange weight behind them.

Speck remained silent for a while, then gulped, and said, “Colonel Teletha Testarossa. Commander-in-chief of the Tuatha de Danaan.”

“Correct,” she said. “Now, take back what you said and apologize. Immediately.”

He spoke, hesitantly. “I take it back. It was a joke that went too far. I’m sorry, ma’am.”

“You’re forgiven.” Tessa lowered the gun’s hammer and returned the weapon to her bodyguard’s hand. “I’m afraid that our enemies’ current intent is to wipe Mithril from the map. Negotiations based on logic are unlikely to work.”

Speck fell silent.

“Corporal Speck, the squad requires your skill. If we all survive this, I’ll wipe your attempted treason from the books. That will be your payment.” With that, their commander turned on her heel and began to walk away. The sound of her shoes clicking on the floor seemed somehow amplified.

Speck, eyes turned down, squeezed out a whisper. “But how can we hope to survive this?”

“If no hope exists, create it. That’s our only option.” Tessa stopped. “Read my report one more time. Use your heads and work something out. If you have any questions, ask Lemming, or me, for help. Or are you all too stupid for that?”

Speck didn’t respond.

“You appear to be under a misapprehension. I never once ordered you to die for me. I never have, and I never will.” In that instant, Tessa’s voice seemed to radiate indomitable strength and decisiveness—a decisiveness that could bend anyone to her will. The one person who hadn’t given up, the one person determined to get her people out of this at any cost—that person was a seventeen-year-old girl.

Oh, God, Kurz thought. In this place, where even veteran soldiers had been brought to their knees, the little girl who had said those words seemed to tower over them all.

Everyone snapped back to attention, including Clouseau, Mao, and Speck, and all the other officers. Even Kurz found himself going ramrod-straight.

Tessa turned back one last time and said, “Survive. That’s an order.”

They all responded in chorus, “Yes, ma’am!!”

“Good luck.” She gave them another smile, this one from the bottom of her heart. Even the clamor of the maintenance crew had died down as she left the hangar behind.

The remaining soldiers looked over at Speck.

“Ah, fine.” He looked annoyed at first... and then, as if to get it all out, said, “I’m sorry, dammit. It got on my nerves, is all. But you were all thinking the same thing, right? Don’t look at me like that.” Speck was probably right; most of the others smiled in self-reproach.

Then they looked at Clouseau, who returned their smiles, his tension relaxing, “Dammit,” he said, “she showed us. She’s absolutely right. Let’s stop wallowing in our tragedy, and use our brains a little. We’ll say our payment for this mission is our lives.”

“I can think of worse paychecks.”

“Besides, it might still work out.”

“Ah, I can’t stand it. I wanna marry her so bad.”

That last line came from Speck, and Clouseau shrugged in response. “Sorry, but there’s a queue for that.”

This time, the whole group laughed. The most important resource in a dire situation, the one thing you couldn’t go without in tough times—humor—had returned to them. Laughter could make your thoughts more flexible, broaden your horizons, and stimulate your creativity. That was where they’d find their “in.”

“Now... let’s get back to talking countermeasures,” Clouseau was saying. “Who was it that had the most experience fighting Behemoths, again?” Then everyone, including Clouseau, turned their eyes to Kurz.

“Huh? Me?” he asked, pointing at himself in disbelief.

After she’d received the PHS message, they’d had to move on from Kichijoji to Ogikubo to avoid being traced.

They arrived on the roof of a tenement building not yet open for the day. Sousuke put his machine in standby mode and disembarked once again. He had been using invisibility mode to leap the Arbalest from building to building, and Kaname, sitting in the machine’s hands, had been unresponsive the entire time. She still was.

“Chidori,” he said.

Kaname didn’t respond. She just sat there, leaning against the AS’s finger, gazing limply into space. She didn’t even bother fixing her long, rumpled hair.

“I understand that you’re in shock,” he tried again. “But—”

“I knew it. I really did,” she whispered. “I knew I couldn’t live this way forever. I knew the enemy would come, and ruin everything, and take me away.”

“Chidori...”

“I knew it all six months ago,” she went on. “I knew that I wouldn’t be able to stay. But I pretended that I didn’t, and... this is my punishment. Her eyes were pointed down, her shoulders trembling. “It’s just like he... like Tessa’s brother said. I should have just gone with him. And because I got stubborn, lots of people are going to be hurt. It’s all my fault. I caused all of this.”

“You didn’t,” Sousuke argued back. “It’s the enemy that—”

“If I’d gone with him yesterday, this wouldn’t have happened, would it? But I thought, ‘Things will work out, because they always do. I’ll be back in just a few days.’ And because of that, Kyoko’s... everyone’s going to...”

“They’re still all right. Don’t lose your head.”

“But there’s no way to save them!” she yelled.

“We don’t know that for sure.”

Kaname glared right at him with bloodshot eyes. He’d never seen her look at him so reproachfully before. “We don’t?” she asked incredulously. “Are you stupid? They have everyone at our school as a hostage, remember? It’s not just Kyoko; there’s bombs everywhere. You know how hard it is to locate bombs disguised by professionals, don’t you?”

“If we use the Arbalest’s electronics to track sources of radio waves—”

“You can’t,” she told him. “They have equipment powerful enough to code-protect their signals. And they’ll have eyes on the building from all directions, too. Just getting an AS close will be next to impossible.”

“You know why they were able to take the helicopter down, right?” she continued. “Did you forget that it was using ECS, too? It’s because they have miniaturized, portable guided missiles that use ultra-wideband radar. They probably have wide-view molecular spectrum sensors and interference-triangulating microphones and high-sensitivity electromagnetic sensors, too.

“Get it? So even if your AS could locate the explosives, you couldn’t disable them,” Kaname finished explaining. “You couldn’t even get inside to check. They could set as many traps triggered by nuclear magnetic resonance as they wanted. Can’t you even recognize something that simple?”

For a while, Sousuke was too stunned to speak. He could only understand about half of the words that the girl in front of him rattled off so easily.

“I guess you can’t, huh?”

“I...”

“Of course you can’t. You’re just like the rest of them,” Kaname spat, growling with annoyance.

“Chidori...” Sousuke said soothingly, even as he felt like a drop of ice water had just gone down his back.

“Why are you looking at me that way?” she demanded aggressively. “You think I’ve gone crazy?”

“I didn’t say that,” he protested. “But you—”

“Yeah, I know. He was right. It annoys me,” Kaname grumbled. “When you look at me with your jaw hanging open, it makes me feel like I’m being mocked. Why can’t any of you understand these simple concepts? Are you just stupid or something?”

“Chidori. That perception is an optical illusion, based on your own superlative intelligence. You shouldn’t look down on others,” he reminded her. “Acknowledge your own condition. Remember how you always—”

“See what I mean? You think acting all worried about me will give you the moral high ground.” She sighed. “You think you can undermine me with the fake concern act? Simpleton.”

“Chidori!” Sousuke grabbed her slender wrist and pulled her toward him. He was too strong for her to resist, and she was pulled into his arms. “You told me earlier that you were scared of me. That you want to be with me, but that you were scared.” They were gazing at each other, close enough that she could probably feel his breath.

“I feel the same way,” he went on. “I want to be with you, but I’m scared. I don’t understand you, but I’m drawn to you. It’s always one, then the other, since the day we first met. I’ve never felt anything like this before. You’ve changed my entire world.”

Kaname stayed silent.

“Until this morning, I was thinking... maybe we could just forget school, forget Mithril, forget everything,” he found himself admitting. “Maybe I could take you and run away, just you and me. But something stopped me. I didn’t have the courage, for one, but that wasn’t the only reason—I knew that it wouldn’t mean anything if it was just you and me. Tokiwa, everyone at school, Mithril... I need to see you as a part of a group, laughing and losing your temper. That’s why I—”

Although surprised by his own sudden loquaciousness, Sousuke forced himself to continue. “That’s why I will protect it all. Not just you. I will protect the world you belong to. All of it. If I can’t do that, my mission will never be complete. Don’t give in to despair. We can save Tokiwa, and everyone at your school, and you. So please, come back to your senses. I know I may seem like a simpleton to you... but I do know how to fight. I’ve done a lot of it, remember? I just need a hint.

“Don’t give up,” he pleaded. “Help me.”

She gazed at him for a while, expressionless. There wasn’t so much as a glint of emotion in her eyes. “You really think you can save it all?”

“Affirmative,” he said. “As long as we’re together.”

There was a long silence. But at last, Kaname chose to speak. “If this were some cheap paperback, this is where we’d have an emotional kiss. But...” Speaking in a voice like that of a ragged old woman, she pulled away from his arms. “I still think it’s impossible. The best strategy would still be to turn ourselves in...”

The base was rocked by another round of explosions as the M6s, loaded with anti-air missiles, scattered into the jungle. They’d managed to shoot down half of the enemy bombers, but the remaining ones continued to rain bunker busters and fuel-air explosives down on the base.

“Uruz-2 to HQ. Damage report.” The M9s had already deployed from the base, where they stood on the outer edges of the practice grounds, hidden in the jungle on the north side of Merida Island. Mao was among them, watching the smoke rise from the base.

“HQ here. They’re beating the crap out of us. The upper floors of the base are all but disabled, but the de Danaan’s dock is unharmed. We managed to evacuate those floors, so casualties are light. The main large elevator was destroyed, so when withdrawing, use undamaged Corridor No. 3.” Corridor No. 3 was a tunnel, currently under construction, that led from the practice grounds on the surface to the base underground. The enemy didn’t seem to know it existed.

“Gebo-3 to all units. The Behemoths are splitting up. Behemoth A, heading to Sector E1. Behemoth B, heading to Sector H1. Behemoth C, holding at Sector G1. They’re probably going to surround the island. I’ll send you the data.” The helicopter, still bravely scanning the skies above, was compressing the latest information on the enemies in the area and sending it to allies on close-range frequencies.

“Uruz-1 here. Thanks, Gebo-3. You’ve done enough. Withdraw.”

“Gebo-3, roger. Behemoth C just fired. Moving to Sector X0 for standb—”

Static washed over the connection, and Mao heard an explosion from the south.

“Gebo-3 here. Our engine’s taken a hit. I’m going to try an emergency landing. I repeat. Going to try an emergency landing. The enemy’s fired anti-air missiles—” The helicopter’s transmission cut off there. Mao had no way of knowing if the crew was safe or not. But given their skill, they’d be fine—she hoped.

“Uruz-1 to Kaun-13. Head for the crash site.”

“Kaun-13, roger.”

“Everyone else, stand by. Did you get the data? Behemoth B is your target. Ignore A and C. Uruz-1 and 2 will handle each of them. Uruz-2, your opponent is A. I’ll play with C.”

“Uruz-2, roger. Hell of an ugly dance partner, though.”

Clouseau snorted at her through the radio. “I feel the same way. Uruz-2, you have permission for limitless ITCC-5.”

“Uruz-2, roger that. I’ll do the best I can.”

Now, then...

Sitting in her machine with ECS fully activated, Mao took in a deep breath. She already had her opponent, Behemoth A, in her sights. It was about four miles from the island’s north shore: right on top of them. The Behemoth was up to its waist in the water, its massive cannon pointed right at her.

She was about to go mano-a-mano with that hulking brute. She had no intention of being shot down. She had to use every trick in the book, and buy as much time as she could—that was all.

Similarly, Clouseau would be handling Behemoth C. Mao’s and Clouseau’s M9s, unlike the other machines, came mounted with an ITCC-5—an integrated tactical communication control system. It was a powerful datalink device that came mounted on front-line command machines. It collected and sorted through all kinds of battlefield data, and let them instantly give orders to various allied machines. Not just ASes, either; it could control any weapon with an ITCC-5-compatible control system.

A tank, for instance. Or a SPAAG.

Or... an AS.

“Okay,” Mao announced, “let’s do this. Friday!”

《Yes, Lieutenant?》

“Switch my controls to XA-1. We’re taking on Behemoth A.”

《Roger. Switching controls to XA-1. Designate priority target: Behemoth A.》

Mao clicked the final confirmation button on the screen. The word “Executing” appeared, and she prepared to take remote control of the XA-1. This was an uninhabited AS, an M6 Bushnell, standing by in the underbrush 800 meters away from her M9.

The M6 fired anti-tank missiles from its shoulder-mounted launchers at the Behemoth, then immediately began to move. Two minimum-signature rocket motors fired, carrying the missiles toward the enemy.

The Behemoth, detecting the source of the missiles, immediately turned its cannon toward the uninhabited M6 and fired without hesitation.

There was a massive muzzle flash.

The machine guns on its head also spat flame, showering the M6 in 30mm rounds. The M6 was slower than the M9, and it couldn’t take evasive maneuvers well. So after being knocked around by the nearby shell impact and the 30mm bullet spray, the second cannon shot blew it to smithereens.

“Okay...” The first-person view on her display made it look as if her own machine had been destroyed, but Mao herself was unharmed. The signal dropped, and the control system switched back to her own machine.

The missiles the M6 had fired were approaching the enemy.

“Detonate XM-3,” she ordered.

《Roger.》

A second later, a geyser erupted near the Behemoth’s right leg. She had detonated one of the autonomous mines they’d rigged up near the base, and the unexpected attack caused the giant to stagger, just a tiny bit. Then the anti-tank missiles hit: one blast to the right shoulder, another to the waist.

“Now, how about that?” While keeping her own machine concealed, Mao zoomed in with the optical sensors of another unmanned M6, the XA-2. The ITCC-5 let her control other machines as if they were her own, to a certain degree.

“Dammit...” She carefully examined the Behemoth’s right shoulder where the first shot had landed, only to find that it was completely unharmed. The lambda driver, which could be used for both offense and defense, must have activated.

They really are invincible, Mao realized, and a numbing sense of powerlessness filled her body. But as she was about to report her findings to her allied machines, she realized something—there was a small plume of white smoke rising from the Behemoth’s right leg, where the mine had hit it. The armor was slightly warped, and some paint was scraped off.

“Did it... work?” Mao wondered. She thought back to Ariake, six months ago. Kurz’s puny rifle had dealt damage to that machine... That’s right, she realized. If you can catch it unawares... If you can strike it in a moment it’s not expecting a hit...

They still had a chance.

It’s too early to despair!

“Uruz-2 to all units! It was only a scratch, but I managed to damage that giant AS!” Mao said, trying not to get ahead of herself. “We can do this. Just be careful; they’ve got a hell of a lot of firepower.”

She heard a “roger” from each machine. They sounded excited. There was an electricity in the air, and it told Mao that her report had been just what her allies were hoping for.

Just then, she got a message from Kalinin, who was in the command center. “Perth-1 here,” he said. “Sorry to give bad news on the heels of the good, but there’s an enemy drop team approaching from the southeast. Likely to be multiple ASes and infantry squads. They’re going to try to take the base.”

Here they come. Sons of bitches... Mao cursed inwardly, while fiddling with her electronic equipment.

“We’ll likely enter hand-to-hand combat within fifteen minutes. Clear up as many Behemoths as you can before then. If you don’t—” Kalinin hesitated a moment, “—this battle group will be wiped out. The de Danaan won’t be able to leave port; they’ll snipe it on its way out of the underwater dock.”

His words were perfectly reasonable, yet Mao still found herself annoyed. Just ten minutes to take out three Behemoths? she thought incredulously. This is ridiculous. “But we just have to do it, right?” she asked out loud.

“Affirmative,” Kalinin answered.

She sighed. “You make it sound so easy...”

Just then, Behemoth A turned its head toward her; it had probably detected Mao’s machine via ECCS, and now pointed its cannon in her direction. She switched her machine to Master Mode, shut off her ECS and sat up, switching to combat maneuvers.

Mao jumped in the wake of the enemy’s fire, which shook her M9 with its shockwave and roar. The resulting explosion could have easily come from the main gun of a battleship. “Gonna be a rough fifteen minutes...” she whispered. Then she twisted her machine in midair, fixing her eyes on the landing point on her screen.

The Behemoths were armed with more than just the high-caliber cannons—the “clothes-hanger poles” that recon had spotted earlier—and they peppered Merida Island from afar with napalm from their shoulder-mounted launchers. The saturation attacks from these multi-purpose missiles inevitably took out several M6s. One explosion hit Twin Rock—a unique rock formation, frequently used as a landmark during training—and rendered it unrecognizable. The above-ground facilities had also been blasted beyond recognition. The tropical forest was a charred mess, welling with black smoke that smothered the sky above. Someone far across the sea who looked in the island’s direction might think they were watching a sinking battleship bathed in flames.

Then, after dropping this storm of destruction, the Behemoths began making landfall from three directions.

“Not holding back, are they?” Kurz muttered to himself. “Dammit...” While powerful blasts from their cannons exploded all around him, his M9 waited patiently in a trench on the base’s south side. He could feel the periodic rumbles in his cockpit, but all he could see on his screen was the darkness of the trench, with the occasional stream of dust dancing in the dim light available.

《Behemoth B entering Sector H0. Estimated 60 seconds to C-Line—》

The enemy machine closest to the base was entering firing range. Clouseau’s and Mao’s machines were employing distraction tactics on the other two—buying time was the order of the day, and they were using their powerful datalink functions to control the base’s spare ASes remotely, and to trigger autonomous mines. Meanwhile, the remaining M9s of the Tuatha de Danaan continued to lie in wait for the single Behemoth B.

“Let’s see...” Kurz whispered to himself.

Two M9s, one operated by Corporal Speck and the other by another SRT member, were hidden under the water to the south of Merida Island. M9s had independent amphibious capabilities, so they could move without support in up to thirty meters of water.

From what they could see on the video Gebo-3 had taken from a distance, these Behemoths didn’t have much in the way of anti-underwater combat gear. Lieutenant Sachs of the maintenance team, and Lieutenant Viran of the research division, had agreed with that opinion.

During the planning meeting, the large bearded Sachs had commented with a scowl, “We can assume they have lots of ground-to-ground equipment, but no capacity to drop depth charges. They do have a spherical passive sonar array in their chests, though, and given their size, they probably have towed sonar arrays, too.” He was talking about sensors typically found in attack submarines. “But once they’re in the shallows, they won’t be able to use those, because their top half will be out of the water.

“So... if I were the designer, I’d have an HF sonar for close-range detection attached to the knees or the shins. If amphibious combat is their main function, they wouldn’t want undersea terrain slowing them down, after all. They’d want a compact high-frequency sonar to map out the terrain of the seafloor and scan for mines.”

“How sensitive do you think the high-frequency sonar is?” Clouseau asked.

Sachs shrugged. “Don’t know. But I doubt we’re dealing with superlative tech in that respect. Those clothes-hanger poles, for instance—it’s not like they’re railguns or anything. They’re adaptations of the big guns you see on battleships like the Missouri. If they had time to waste developing new ones, it would’ve been better spent equipping them with ultrafast kinetic energy missiles... and even testing something like that would require one hell of a target range. I doubt they could scare up the space, even from behind the Iron Curtain, without Mithril catching wind of it. So I doubt they bothered.”

“And you think that applies to the giants’ sonar, too?”

“I can’t be sure,” Sachs replied, “but the shins are probably about the size of a sail on an 8000-ton submarine. Considering the effort it would take to develop a new sonar, if it were me, I’d just jury-rig an existing model to fit onto it. Nothing beats reliability, you know?”

“Okay, so... assuming the enemy is using cutting-edge high-frequency sonar, do you think autonomous mines and M9s can hide from it?” Clouseau asked, hazarding a guess.

“Not sure,” Sachs told him. “The colonel would probably know more than I would.”

At the time, Mao was already conversing with Tessa in the command center about something via her portable phone. Tessa was likely giving brief responses while working in other areas at incredible speed, because her exchanges with Mao sounded extremely concise. “Just asked her,” she said after a momentary pause. “She says, ‘They can. I’ll send Sergeant Dejirani, so confer with him.’”

“Okay. Now, assuming we can set up a perfect ambush in the water, do we have a way to deal a meaningful blow to that giant?” The whole group frowned at Clouseau’s words. If size was all the enemy had going for them, the Tuatha de Danaan squad might be able to find a way through. But that wasn’t the case with the Behemoths. They also had lambda drivers, which would shield them from most forms of attack.

“I’ve said this before, but the lambda driver isn’t invincible.” This time it was Second Lieutenant Viran who spoke. Blonde hair, intelligent brown eyes, mid-twenties; as a transfer from the research division, she was the most knowledgeable person on staff when it came to the lambda driver. “First, you’ll see limits in barrier execution based on the operator’s ability to concentrate,” she predicted. “And the degree of focus can affect the barrier’s strength, as well. It’s possible to deal damage if you can catch them off guard. Sergeant Weber proved that for us.”

During Kurz’s fight with the Behemoth in Ariake, he’d successfully dealt damage with one shot from a sniper rifle. He’d managed that because the operator had let his guard down. If they could just create a similar opportunity...

“Well, it’s true that it worked then, but...” Kurz agreed reluctantly. “There’s no way you could do enough damage to completely disable it that way. You’d probably only get one chance. If you need to finish it in one hit... well, it had better be a blow to the cockpit.”

“What about hitting the slit in the back, like Sagara did?” Speck asked.

Mao hummed in response. “It’s possible. But that’s only assuming the enemy didn’t learn from the failure at Ariake and didn’t alter the construction at all.”

“Yeah, that seems unlikely.”

“Let’s assume the enemy has accounted for that.”

“So it’s gotta be a cockpit shot,” Speck said.

“It’s an easy target, in a way... The giant’s cockpit is in the head,” Kurz put in. “But it’s got serious armor protection. Dual-layer composite armor, plus the pilot is a few meters down. There’s no artillery or missile that could break through in one hit.”

But one hit was all they’d get. And on top of that, they had to do it three times.

“Still, we can make it happen somehow,” Clouseau insisted. “All we need to do is buy time for an evacuation. Just taking three down to two would give us hope. And while it might be hard, if we can get two down to one... that would dramatically increase our chances.”

“That’s asking a little much,” Kurz argued. “But still, we might be able to get rid of one. If I can thread the needle, at least.”

“Do you have a plan?”

“Yeah.”

“Hit us with it.”

And so Kurz had explained...

The underwater alarm net and few remaining base sensors conveyed information to Kurz’s M9: Behemoth B had crossed the designated line. “Activate ECS invisibility mode,” he ordered.

《Yes, Sergeant. ECS on.》

His machine’s ECS activated. Multiple laser beams created phase-shifting holograms that cloaked his machine from the visible light spectrum, rendering it invisible. With careful movements, Kurz’s M9 climbed out of the bomb shelter trench it was hiding in.

The bombing had turned their training area into a wasteland. Buildings and trees had been flattened, and black smoke hung in the air all around him. Still, the most important thing now was caution. The M9 crept forward, holding its sniper cannon, to avoid enemy detection. Kurz moved slowly and carefully to a low hill about 200 meters away. Skillfully using the terrain hollowed out by the blasts, he got himself a good sniping spot.

“Uruz-6 here,” he said. “I’m in position. Status, Team Red?”

“Uruz-5. Ready any time,” said Sandraptor.

“Uruz-10. Twenty seconds,” said Mandela.

One by one, his allies responded. Effectively, Kurz was in command of the current operation: the attack on Behemoth B.

“Uruz-8, ready to go?” Kurz asked Speck.

“Uruz-8. Guess I’d better be,” he joked. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Okay... In that case, let’s sock a giant in the nose.”

“Try to be more professional, Sergeant,” Speck chided. “You’re supposed to be our leader.”

“Let’s stick to things that are possible for now,” Kurz joked back, and then turned his sniper cannon toward the enemy machine. Beyond the drifting black smoke, even beyond the island’s shores, he could see the Behemoth. “Activate fairy eye,” he instructed.

《Roger. Activating fairy eye.》

The new sensor installed on Kurz’s machine activated. The Behemoth was suddenly covered in a green projection, similar to the view through a night vision scope. It was showing the effective area covered by the enemy’s lambda driver. The new device had been invented in December, and he didn’t know who’d developed it, but it was what had let Kurz see the lambda driver activate in Sousuke’s Arbalest during the mission with the pirates on Badam Island.

He could see the giant’s “barrier” projected thinly all over its body. The richness of the green on the display would tell him how strong the barrier was in various locations. Right now, it was clear that, although it was on guard, the enemy was very confident and ready to move on to the final landfall stage.

Kurz switched his view to optical sensors and saw the Behemoth slowly moving through the sunlight-sparkling ocean surface.

Distance: 2500 meters.

Wind: West-southwest at about twelve meters per second.

Temperature: 22 degrees Celsius.

Humidity: 83 percent.

This and various other data flashed onto the bottom right corner of his targeting mode screen. Kurz flicked his communicator switch off for just a second to click his tongue. “Dammit...”

Visibility was bad. There was too much light behind the thing. Then there was the wind, the flow of the air—they’d be completely different over the sea. If he fired from here, the trajectory would be off. The enemy was moving, too—left, then right, in an unpredictable rhythm. Too unpredictable.

Change fire control mode. Move to fully manual aim. Bilateral angle to minimum. The only way to do this was through instinct, with his own hands.

Dammit... dammit, dammit! The shot was too hard. No one could make it. At this distance and under these conditions, to hit the target about to appear... the task outstripped his talents, but he still had to do it.

“What’s wrong, Kurz?” Speck asked in a mocking tone. His M9 was closer to the Behemoth, hiding under the ocean’s surface. “Don’t tell me you’re chickening out.”

“Pfft,” Kurz scoffed. “Whatever.”

“If you make this work, I’ll cut you in on a big deal later.”

“More stock?”

“Yeah. This whole thing gave me some inspiration earlier,” Speck told him. “Starting next week, the potato market’s gonna soar. If we put five grand in, I can pay you back times twenty.”

At a time like this? Kurz thought incredulously. The freaking idiot... “What the hell does fighting these hulks have to do with potatoes?” he wanted to know.

“No time to explain now,” Speck told him. “Gotta fuck this guy up first.”

“Yeah, yeah...”

“Counting on you, okay? There’s a payday on the line. Remember what I told you before? Florida. It’s the land of luxury mansions, Lotuses, and bikini babes.”

“I’m not into Lotuses,” Kurz snarked.

“Ferraris, then.”

“Sold.”

The enemy had almost reached the designated line, but Speck’s nonsense had helped Kurz to calm his frazzled nerves. He took in a slow, deep breath. “Uruz-6 to Team Red members,” he said. “The enemy has crossed Line D. Everybody ready?”

The unanimous response was, “Ready any time.”

“Count five.” He looked at the Behemoth on the screen again. It was larger than before. “Four... three...” He relaxed his shoulders, and moved the control stick with great care. Gently, gently... like stroking a baby’s cheek. “Two... one...” A short whisper. “Alpha, go!”

Speck’s M9, hidden in the sea near the Behemoth, moved first. It activated the jets on its underwater pack to first jump out of the water, then skip like a stone toward the Behemoth. The giant reacted immediately, turning its upper half down to face Speck’s machine.

“Let’s go,” Kurz ordered.

Even as it danced along the ocean surface, Speck’s M9 fired a cluster of rockets from its shoulder launchers. One after another, the rushing arrows of flame slammed into the Behemoth— no, they exploded just before impact, releasing a shower of pale blue sparks.

The lambda driver... it really had blocked them. But then again, they were expecting that. The fairy eye’s imaging, too, made it very clear; the lambda driver’s force field was “strong” in Speck’s direction.

“Beta, go!” Kurz ordered again.

“Beta, roger,” said the team member in control of the autonomous mines. At almost the same time, a geyser exploded from the water on the side of the Behemoth opposite Speck.

It was an autonomous mine attack. Mao had done the same thing before with a certain degree of success, but Kurz knew this wouldn’t be a fatal blow. It had force fields activated at crucial points around its legs. Even if there was some slight damage, it would be only a scratch to the Behemoth.

But the image captured by Kurz’s fairy eye told him just where the force fields—in other words, the enemy pilot’s attention—were directed. It had been attacking Speck’s machine when the mine had caught it from behind unawares. That meant the enemy was now entirely focused on its lower half, concentrating its defenses around the water line. The greens on Kurz’s display turned deeper around the giant’s lower half, and lighter around its upper one.

And around its head—

I can do this. Kurz instantly switched to optical targeting mode, and shouted, “Gamma, go!”

At his signal, three allied M9s hiding around points on Merida Island’s south side fired their Javelin missile launchers.

This was the main offensive.

An infrared guidance laser sight was projected from Kurz’s M9’s head onto the Behemoth. The three missiles bore down on its location, right on the side of Behemoth B’s head. These weren’t old-fashioned missiles flying at subsonic speeds, but large missiles that would hit the enemy with ultrafast kinetic energy.

That tenth of a second felt like eternity.

At last, the three missiles slammed the Behemoth’s head, all hitting simultaneously. Fragments of armor went flying, releasing white smoke and a shockwave. The giant staggered a little bit. It was so far away that the sound of the explosion hadn’t reached him yet.

No... by the time the sound reached him, it would be too late. These milliseconds were all the time Kurz had. With his target masked behind walls of smoke, he’d be forced to guess how far the shots had penetrated. The angle and location, too. Gut instinct was all he had to go on.

Nevertheless, Kurz pulled the trigger.

Silently, almost automatically, at the spot the three missiles had hit... aiming for a hole a few dozen centimeters wide, 2500 meters away, through the smoke and the wind...

He fired.

The hunkered-down M9’s sniper rifle fired a dart-shaped piercing round. The muzzle flash exploded before his eyes, and the black smoke hovering around him burst outward in swirls. The sound of the distant missile strike reached him that same instant.

The sniper cannon’s shot made contact, and he could see the Behemoth on his screen tremble once more. But he couldn’t tell if it had hit what he’d been aiming for.

“Did we do it...?” The Behemoth remained still for some time, white smoke trailing from its head. It didn’t move. Its body slowly began to tilt... but didn’t fall. The Behemoth was still active. Its head, half slag now, twisted. It turned its glinting black cannon to Kurz. It fired.

“Dammit!” he cursed, scrambling to his feet with a jump. They’d failed. They’d done serious damage to the Behemoth’s head, but it hadn’t been enough to kill the pilot. A split-second later, a huge explosion burst out at the feet of Kurz’s M9, sending it tumbling, end-over-end.

The monster’s shoulder-mounted missile launchers opened next, ejecting a barrage of anti-ground missiles at his other allies. Sandraptor and the others tried to use their M9s to intercept and dodge. Explosion after explosion erupted on the south beach. Kurz didn’t know what had happened to his allies—maybe half of them had been destroyed.

Kurz’s machine managed to get its balance and land, just before another enemy attack hit him. There was a massive muzzle flash in the distance. A shell was flying towards him. This one, too, he managed to dodge—just barely. The impact from the explosion rattled his brain in his skull. A normal operator would have lost consciousness.

We’re all dead. The words floated up into the back of his mind. Had their struggles been pointless after all? Would they all be completely overwhelmed by the enemy’s firepower? The enemy fixed its cannon on Kurz’s machine a third time. He fell to his knees, trembling, amidst the dust cloud raised around his M9. It’s no good, he realized. I can’t dodge it...

“Uruz-6, you’re not done yet! Hang in there!” barked the voice of Speck through his radio receiver. His screen showed the Behemoth in the ocean—and right next to it, Speck’s M9, darting around over the water, kicking up sea spray.

You idiot, Kurz thought. Why don’t you dive already? You’re gonna be fodder for those 30mm cannons...

Speck’s M9 discharged the last of its rockets. The Behemoth turned its focus away from Kurz, back to Speck’s machine. It raised its barrier, and the entire barrage exploded fruitlessly against it.

Yet Speck—who must have known that this would happen—didn’t let it stop him. He continued his charge against the giant. He ejected his M9’s underwater unit. His machine rode on the inertia, hung in the air for a second, then grabbed the left leg of the Behemoth that was five times larger than it.

Kurz couldn’t hear the sound. It was too far away. And right now, his ears were still ringing from that second cannon shot.

“I’m gonna make you an opening,” Speck told him. “Try it one more time.” Then his machine drew its close-combat monomolecular cutter, stuck it into the enemy armor, and scurried up the machine in a flash. It was an act that took amazing skill; only a handful of AS pilots in the world could do the same.

“Stop it, Speck,” Kurz said urgently.

Once he’d latched onto the Behemoth’s shoulder, Speck readied his short-barreled carbine rifle, then unloaded on full automatic at the side of the enemy’s head—where the four consecutive hits from before had damaged it. Each and every shot was deflected by the lambda driver’s barrier. The pale blue light and red sparks raced, casting the machine’s shadow strongly against the Behemoth’s right shoulder.

“I’m not cut out for this kinda thing,” Speck joked. “I know, but...”

“You’ve done enough!” Kurz yelled back. “Get out of there!”

The Behemoth roared. It was the first time Kurz had seen something like emotion from it—it felt almost like rage.

“Apologize to the colonel for me,” Speck said. “I wasn’t serious about—”

In the image captured by the fairy eye, the enemy’s barrier shone brightly. No, it wasn’t a barrier—it was a burst of directed pressure that smashed into Speck’s stubbornly dug-in M9.

“Speck!!”

Speck’s machine flew away from the Behemoth’s shoulder. Its arms lost, its legs broken, its torso fractured—the shot had smashed it, literally, to pieces. The detritus slowly scattered as it fell into the sea. The pilot had died on impact: that much was crystal clear.

The Behemoth began to unload its still-working head-mounted 30mm machine gun into the ocean where the parts had fallen. Foolish insect. Know your place, the giant seemed to spit, derisively.

And then, for just a second...

In the fairy eye’s view, Kurz could see that the enemy’s attention was completely focused on the remains of Speck’s machine. The barrier was gone around the head—around the side of the head. Kurz’s mind parsed the screen’s targeting data in an instant. The wind, the light, the heat, the humidity: they were all giving him the go-ahead for the kill.

He fired. This time, his shot caught the Behemoth in the head. The piercing round tore through the hole in the armor, and went deeper—down into the faceless, anonymous operator in the cockpit.

The Behemoth stopped. White smoke rose up. Then at last, just as Kurz had seen in Ariake once before, its massive form began to tremble. Its arms snapped down, and its enormous cannon plunged into the water below. Pieces of its armor began to plummet from its body. As if dragged down by its own weight, its entire structure began to warp, then buckle.

One target destroyed.

Still, they had suffered severe losses getting there. Two of the machines that had launched missiles from the ground had suffered serious damage in the counterattack. Sandraptor was badly injured. And also...

“Speck. You damned idiot...” It took Kurz all of his strength just to whisper that. If my first shot had hit. If I hadn’t screwed up... But he didn’t have time now, even for self-loathing. He received a transmission from Mao.

“Uruz-2 here,” she said. “Took a hit to my right leg. I can still dodge, but I won’t last much longer. I’m gonna try to stop it somehow.”

“Big Sis!” At the same time, he received a report from his machine’s AI.

The enemy drop squad was on their doorstep.

If he thought about it rationally, Chidori Kaname was right. Completely right. Refusing to surrender, while also saving Tokiwa Kyoko and everyone else at the school, went beyond the level of simply being “difficult.” It was practically impossible.

The chances of success in this foolish gamble were insanely low. In a Hollywood movie, this would be when the cavalry showed up unexpectedly to lend a hand, and they’d make that one percent a possibility... Miracles like that were guaranteed to movie heroes. It was what let them make utterly unreasonable yet “beautiful” decisions.

Sousuke was different. As an assassin, as a guerrilla, and as a mercenary, he’d been raised to know that you couldn’t count on such things. For instance, which of the two was the more logical choice: A ninety-nine percent chance of sacrificing one person to save ninety-nine, or a one percent chance of saving the one and the ninety-nine together?

Which was wiser? There was no question.

Kaname was right. Completely right.

But that wasn’t the only problem Sousuke faced. What if the value of the one to be sacrificed far outstripped the value of the other ninety-nine? What if he’d rather let the whole world burn than give that one person up? In that case, what should he do?

Of course, the ninety-nine mattered. They were irreplaceable.

But so was that one.

Think it over, he told himself. Do I wave the white flag and give her to them? I can’t do it. I don’t have the courage. If you can even call such a thing courage... It was a problem that math couldn’t solve, a calculation that the man he used to be wouldn’t have given a second thought. But now, the dilemma consumed him.

Let’s bet on that 1% chance.

It was a terrifying temptation. How could anyone resist it? The old him would have scoffed at the idea, but he couldn’t just write it off now. It occurred to Sousuke, vaguely in that moment, that this was what it meant to love something. All of the seemingly stupid, illogical actions he’d witnessed from others up until now... he now understood exactly how those people felt.

The girls who went so mad with jealousy that they wrote smear notes on the bathroom walls. The basketball players who sent threatening faxes out of fear of losing a match. The teachers who cared so much about their colleagues that they engaged in unbecoming behavior.

Who could blame me?

That was how people acted when they loved something. When they were afraid.

Yes. Who could blame me?

At that time, Sousuke didn’t realize that the behavior he was engaging in was known as “self-justification.” And as a result, he gave in to the temptation. He decided to bet on the 1% chance.

“We don’t have much time. Let’s go,” Kaname whispered limply, then began heading towards the area the enemy had designated. Sousuke caught up to her from behind, and pulled out his stun gun. Holding her from behind, he pressed the taser’s prongs to her stomach, and turned it on.

An electric current. A light numbness.

Kaname immediately fell still.

Sousuke held her in his arms, and then carefully laid her down. He chose a tranquilizer from his medical kit and injected it into her; it would keep her out for several hours. He carried her to the top of the tenant building’s water tower, and lay his uniform jacket, stained in blood and dirt, on top of her. He searched through her pockets and pulled out her PHS.

Resisting the urge to stroke her pale cheek, he stood up, and turned away. “Let’s go, Al.”

《Roger,》 Al responded from the Arbalest, which was kneeling beside him on standby. Sousuke climbed swiftly up its armor plates, then slid into the cockpit.

《Sergeant. A question.》

“Yes?”

《Are we leaving Ms. Chidori here?》

“Yes. Forget her,” Sousuke said coldly. “We’re heading to Jindai High School. We’re going to find and disarm all the bombs inside.”

《I do not know all of the terms of your plan, but your decision is incorrect.》

“Maybe.”

《It is clearly irrational. Some might call it shoddy. I suggest you reconsider.》

“Suggestion denied.”

《Even if you do disable the explosives, they will reuse the same strategy as many times as is needed.》

“And I’ll stop them every time.”

《Impossible.》

“I’ll make it possible.”

《Impossible.》

Impossible. Irrational. Pointless. A shoddy decision. Will she ever forgive me for this? Sousuke wondered. Probably not. Even so... “What choice do I have?” he asked grimly, grabbing the Arbalest’s control stick and bringing the machine to its feet. It took a starting run through the empty parking lot and leaped, leaving the sleeping Kaname behind.

Sousuke moved through the city with the same method he’d used before, and after getting his machine a few kilometers away, he stopped and opened the cockpit just halfway. Then he manipulated Kaname’s PHS with his now-free arm. He was unaccustomed to sending emails with such a small number of keys, and he struggled a little.

Your threat worked on Chidori Kaname, but it’s meaningless to me. No matter how many people you kill at Jindai High School, it won’t disrupt my mission. There are no terms under which I will agree to hand over a top-secret AS.

Additionally, I was ordered to kill Chidori Kaname if I determined it likely she would fall into enemy hands. Call this phone. If you do not call within three minutes, I will carry out that order.

Send.

Now all he could do was wait. In less than a minute, the PHS chimed with an incoming call.

“What are your terms?” It was an electronically altered voice. Male.

“I want a guarantee of my own life, plus an escape route. I can’t ensure my safety under a time and place you designate.”

“You don’t seem to understand your situation,” the enemy’s voice mused. “Maybe I’ll detonate one of the bombs in the school.”

Sousuke felt a chill run up his spine. It took him superhuman self-restraint, but he managed to keep his tone indifferent when he replied, “Then negotiations are over. Do as you will.” Then he casually hung up the phone.

He waited, gazing at the LCD screen. If the enemy were acting in good faith, they’d be willing to negotiate. He wasn’t the only one at the end of his rope. The enemy, too... they were clearly deeply fearful that Sousuke and Kaname might just run off somewhere. Taking Tokiwa Kyoko and the school hostage was an act of desperation.

It was a seemingly endless ten-seconds-and-change before the phone rang again. Resisting the urge to push the button immediately, Sousuke gave it a few rings before answering.

“All we want is Chidori Kaname,” the enemy said immediately.

“That’s what I thought.”

“We have no interest in the AS,” his opponent went on, “but it is a threat. If you can guarantee that your AS will be temporarily disabled, we can guarantee your safety.”

“Very well,” Sousuke agreed. “Then I’ll move my AS to the old factory in the second district in Sengawa at 1100 hours. I’ll be waiting there, then, hatch open. Send one of your allies to monitor me, if you wish. I’ll send Chidori Kaname alone to Sengawa Station, two kilometers away. When the exchange is complete, I’ll disappear.”

A short silence followed. After carefully considering these conditions, the enemy replied, “Very well. But if anything goes less than completely according to plan, I detonate all the bombs in the school.”

“As I’ve said many times,” Sousuke rebutted coldly, “I don’t consider that a threat.”

“We’ll see.” The man on the phone chuckled deeply. “You’ve killed close to ten of our own. We’re all professionals, of course, but it still makes me want to see you suffer, badly.”

“I don’t care,” Sousuke said calmly, even as the sweat rose on his back.

“Mr. Iron was right. You’re an interesting kid.”

“If you’re just going to prolong the conversation,” Sousuke said, “then I’m hanging up.” He turned the PHS off. The enemy already knew where he was, and were probably speeding their forces his way. “Let’s move, Al.”

《Roger.》

Sousuke closed the hatch and re-engaged operator mode, then sent the invisible Arbalest running through the dull, gray town. He’d regained some degree of the initiative, even if it was all based on a bluff. But now, the gamble was about to get real. The enemy hadn’t been bluffing when they said that they would kill Kyoko and the others; that threat was serious.

He had to do something.

All by himself.