4: Damage Report

Noises blared through the violently shaking cockpit: Mao’s voice, the voice of the AI, and alarms of all kinds.

《Damage report. Class B damage to right thigh block. Automatic damage control and activity motion limiter systems activated.》

“Cancel AML,” she ordered.

《Roger. AML off. No mitigation measures will be applied to damaged portion.》

“How long will it hold out?”

《Inquiry. Specify location—》

“The damaged portion.”

《Estimate: 45 to 160 seconds. Temporary cessation of combat maneuvers recommended.》

“We don’t have time for that.”

A 30mm round had hit Mao’s right leg, where it dealt damage to the thigh muscle package and part of the shock absorption system. As the name suggested, the muscle packages comprised the AS’s muscular system. Formed from a conductive shaped memory polymer, these bundles of thin fibers could expand and contract to move the machine’s joints just like a human body.

Damage and stress had torn through part of these “muscles” in the right leg, which meant the remaining delicate fibers were going to start fraying, one by one, until their connections were completely severed. Once that happened, the machine wouldn’t even be able to walk. With the enemy still attacking, that gradually thinning bundle in the thigh was literally Mao’s lifeline.

The AI had recommended maneuvers that would preserve the damaged portion, but Mao had rejected that plan. There was no way to avoid the enemy’s attacks without abusing her rapidly disintegrating right thigh.

《Immediate withdrawal from combat zone recommended.》

“Run?!” she exclaimed. “But where—”

《Missile alert. Three shots, four o’clock, distance four.》

An even louder alarm rang out. Behemoth A, which was now nearing the shore, had fired three smokeless missiles at her.

“Urk!!” Mao choked, slamming the brakes on her barreling machine by planting the M9’s left leg onto the scorched ground. Kicking up dirt and dust, the move sent a powerful shockwave slamming through Mao’s organs; she felt as though her guts were going to blow out of her body.

The missiles’ course changed slightly. Mao turned her face toward them, and fired her head-mounted machine guns on full automatic. It was a force-feeder rig, so it ejected no shell casings as she fired off a wall of depleted uranium rounds. One of the missiles, hit by the shots, popped and scattered. Another lost its guidance function when its seeker portion was blown away.

The last one was right under her nose, and Mao’s only option was to dodge. She took a sharp step to the right, then leaped in the other direction as hard as she could. Her damaged right leg screamed under the stress, but the missile narrowly missed her and slammed into the ground.

Mao’s M9 didn’t get much hangtime as it arced through the smoke towards the burning jungle beyond. She wanted to land feet-first, but she was worried about the damage, so she twisted her machine to land arm-first in a roll. The ten-ton machine tumbled end-over-end, tearing down trees in its wake, and Mao was left lightheaded from the merciless jolting and g-forces.

But she didn’t have time to collect her bearings before the alarm was blaring in her ears again: 《Missile alert. Eleven o’clock. Distance: two. Number: three.》

Behemoth A had sent another three missiles her way, while unleashing its machine cannons to boot. It wasn’t going to give her time to stop and return fire. Mao rolled along the ground, sprang up, and then launched back into a dash, all while knowing that the “muscles” of her right thigh could snap any second. She opted for a direct showdown with the enemy’s predictive programming, letting her computer carry her machine in a chaotically randomized series of maneuvers. Shot and shell landed and exploded around her, upping the pressure on the fleeing M9.

Another three missiles were on their way. Mao decided not to stop as she countered this time; this fouled her aim, and she just barely managed to take one of them out. Jumping back, Mao cranked her ECS to full output. A veil of pale blue light trailed her machine as the electromagnetic camouflage system put it into stealth mode, causing the two remaining missiles to miss their target.

The missiles exploded. She’d managed to avoid a direct hit, but the force still blew her M9 flat onto the ground. “Ngh...” she moaned.

She wasn’t out of danger yet. Behemoth A was still after her. It would fill her with holes if she didn’t move fast. Mao tried to right herself with a jackknife maneuver, then jump again—

She couldn’t do it. Her machine was out of power.

The ECS consumed massive amounts of electricity, and using it in tandem with violent combat maneuvers had resulted in a near-instant drain on her capacitor, which would need ten seconds to charge up again. Furthermore, the muscle package in her right thigh had snapped through. She couldn’t even stand up now. Mao’s M9, pushed to its limit, could do nothing but back away, face-up, through the mud.

Dammit, she spat, knowing that she was out of options. She’d used up all of the ITCC-5’s remote controllable weapons. The automatic mines couldn’t help her now that the Behemoth was making landfall. The explosives buried on the beach had all been detonated in the original bombing.

Mao turned her one remaining weapon, the 40mm rifle in her right hand, to full automatic, and fired at the Behemoth’s head. It didn’t work; no effect at all. Every single shot was deflected effortlessly.

The mountain-like bulk of the Behemoth approached. It was like a force of nature, blocking her view of the sky as ocean water came sheeting off of it in waterfalls. It briefly pointed its huge cannon at Mao, then seemed to realize that she was a waste of ammunition. It just stepped forward at a leisurely pace instead, then raised its right foot high over the struggling M9.

It was going to step on her, just as a standard AS might step on human infantry.

Is this the end? she wondered. Dammit...

With death staring her in the face, Mao found herself strangely relieved that she was frustrated rather than afraid; that her last stand had been about willfulness to the end, rather than powerlessness. She felt proud that she wasn’t going to face death screaming like a fool. From the Marines up to now, my life as a soldier hasn’t all been in vain, she found herself thinking. At the very least, I’m not the “spoiled princess” the men mocked me about being behind my back. I’ve proven that now.

A foot the size of a tennis court, sticky with mud and dripping with seawater, began to descend towards Mao’s M9. She couldn’t see the sky anymore. She couldn’t run away. Her entire world, now, was that sledgehammer-like foot.

She felt a jolt of contact.

In an instant, her armor would break, her cockpit would rupture, and she would be mashed into pulp within. She wouldn’t even have time to feel pain.

But that wasn’t what happened.

Mao closed her eyes tightly, bracing herself, but the moment she was waiting for never arrived. Her M9 had been picked up by another M9, which was dashing with her along the ground. She realized immediately that it was Lieutenant Castello’s machine. He’d scooped her out from beneath the Behemoth’s foot just in the nick of time. At the same time, several shots had struck the Behemoth’s head; it had to be Kurz’s sniping, but she couldn’t see where he was firing from.

Kurz and the others must have come running after taking out the first Behemoth.

“Still alive in there, Mao?” came Castello’s voice over the radio. She looked at her screen and saw that his M9 was in awful shape. Its head was caved in, its shoulder armor blown away; its left arm ended in a stump at the wrist. Carrying Mao’s nearly immobilized M9 had drastically lowered its movement speed.

“Lieutenant, you have to—”

Despite Kurz’s support, the enraged Behemoth bathed Mao and Castello in machine cannon fire. They tried evasive maneuvers, but couldn’t dodge all of it. Several 30mm rounds hit their targets, blowing off pieces of M9 armor.

“Guh!” Mao choked out as Castello’s machine lost its balance, sending their two machines tumbling in a heap.

Behemoth A tried to finish them off, and Kurz continued to shoot at it. Though he was far from dealing it a fatal blow, he did seem to be getting on the enemy’s nerves. The Behemoth let out a roar, and turned the massive cannon in its hands towards Kurz.

Then, with incredible needle-threading aim, Kurz fired a shot right up the Behemoth’s barrel.

There was a spark. The barrel of the “clothes-hanger pole” warped as the ammunition loaded deep within caught fire, igniting a massive explosion near the Behemoth’s hand. It staggered and dropped its cannon. The “clothes-hanger pole” fell with a crash to the ground of Merida Island, crushing trees beneath it.

“Hah, got you again. Simpleton...” Kurz’s voice, over the radio, seethed with malice.

But despite having lost its primary weapon, Behemoth A still had its powerful machine cannons. There was little more that Kurz could do to support them.

Apparently still mobile, Castello’s machine used all its power to throw Mao behind a nearby rock, before turning around to jump. “I’ll be the decoy,” he declared. “Abandon your machine and run back to base.”

“I can’t,” she argued. “And—”

“That’s an order, Lieutenant!” Refusing to let her argue, the battered Castello turned to confront the Behemoth alone.

We should have switched opponents... Clouseau thought with gritted teeth as he piloted his M9 this way and that to draw the attention of Behemoth C. The rocky area that served as his battleground had more hiding places than the north shore, where Mao was. He had more power and more ammo, and more time to focus.

He wanted to go help Mao and the others, but he couldn’t afford to do that, either—he had his hands full with the enemy in front of him. Additionally, the enemy seemed to be catching on to the fact that he was alone. His diversion wouldn’t last much longer.

On the other end of the island, from the west shore, Clouseau could see a dozen or so large helicopters beginning to make their descent, one by one. With all of the base’s intercept systems destroyed, there was no way to stop them now.

Clouseau gripped his stick. “Operate ZA-3, parallel. Unload everything on Behemoth C.”

《Roger.》 The unpiloted M6 standing on the rocky shore eight hundred meters away, his final machine, launched a barrage of ultrafast missiles at the Behemoth. While the enemy was distracted, Clouseau’s M9 Falke dove out from cover, and fired its rifle while moving at top speed.

Just then, Clouseau got a message from Major Kalinin in the command center. “HQ to Uruz-1. How much longer can you hold off Behemoth C?”

“Five minutes at most,” he replied tersely.

“Understood. If you reach your limit, return. Dive into a trench and fight them man-to-man.”

“They might employ bioweapons,” Clouseau pointed out. A dispersal of biological weapons like sarin or tabun through the underground base would kill their entire command structure effortlessly, and there was no reason to expect mercy from the enemy at this point.

“Understood,” Kalinin said, acknowledging the point. “If they take the air conditioning facility in sector C, it’s over. We’re mustering our forces. Focus on your target for now.”

“Roger.”

Shot down. Crushed. Crashed. Disabled. On fire.

Light injuries. Severe injuries. Critical condition. Dead. Missing. Incommunicado.

The carpet bombing of reports hit Tessa from all sides. With each new arrival, she responded with an order, and then calmly remapped the situation in her mind. Even the report about Speck’s death simply translated to “one M9 and one veteran operator lost,” and based on that, she revised her ideas about their forces available, and altered her conception of their plans.

That was all the thought she spared for his death. The massive collateral losses it represented—his sarcasm, his crooked smile, his earnestly-felt salute at the end—she kept completely sealed off from her mind.

“Colonel.” Kalinin gave a report.

He was telling her that an enemy drop squad had landed on the west side of the island—ten minutes later than she had expected, thanks to the destruction of the Behemoth B. Even though it was only one of three, it was a massive blow to the enemy forces. Those ten minutes, and the psychological damage they represented, were unspeakably precious to them in their current situation.

It would be a dozen or so minutes until the drop forces infiltrated the base. Maybe thirty, if the traps slowed them down. And if the ground forces in the base fought well... how long could they hold out then? And how many more losses would they suffer in the meantime?

“Captain,” said Mardukas, who was supervising maintenance in the underground dock. He gave his report as well: there were two and a half hours left until the amphibious assault submarine, Tuatha de Danaan, was ready to leave port. Their main problem was the replenishment of the fuel pellets in the palladium reactor that served as its power source. They didn’t strictly need it, but... without it, the de Danaan would be left adrift just a few weeks after leaving port. Sooner, if things went badly.

Unlike the standard shipboard nuclear reactors that had been phased out over ten years prior, palladium reactors could run out of fuel. A fully-charged de Danaan could remain in a dive for over eight months (ignoring the crew’s need for provisions, of course).

The palladium reactor wasn’t the only problem. The repairs to the high-pressure air compressor, indispensable for sailing, weren’t finished, and if they left port with it in its current state, it could end up producing fatal noise. The loading of provisions and other supplies was only at about 40% complete, as well.

Two and a half hours to get the de Danaan up to basic functionality... This was Mardukas’s report, so she knew there was no margin for error. Two and a half hours. Could they hold out that long?

There’s no way, Tessa realized with dismay. But a drowning man couldn’t choose what shore they crawled up onto, and she gave her orders to Mardukas immediately. “Suspend the charging of the reactor. Suspend repairs to the compressor, as well. Put all personnel on watertightness inspection.”

“I suppose that’s the only way,” Mardukas said after a moment. “Yes, ma’am.” His voice sounded pained, but he made no signs of objection.

Kalinin must have overheard the order. He turned to look at her. “Colonel?”

“We won’t hold out for two and a half hours, will we?”

“No, ma’am. I’m afraid not,” Kalinin said hesitantly, after a pause.

It was strange. Most people wouldn’t notice it, but there had been something off about Kalinin’s behavior today. There was nothing unusual in his orders or instructions; anyone could see that his precision and speed was as determined as ever.

But something was off.

Is he rattled? Tessa wondered. Perhaps so...

But as a former Spetsnaz officer, he’d surely been through worse than this. Their current situation was bad, but it wouldn’t explain why he seemed so shaken. After facing hundreds of battles with exceptional nerves of steel and careful thinking, surely this wouldn’t be his breaking point?

From Tessa’s point of view, his behavior seemed... how to put it? Indecisive? Yes, indecisive—Kalinin was distracted by some kind of greater dilemma, some deeper issue at play. Something beyond the immediate matter at their base. It was like he was reflecting on the distant past, and at the same time, gazing at an uncertain future ahead.

“Major?” she asked.

“Forgive me, Colonel,” Kalinin apologized. “I’m doing everything I can, but—”

Just then, they received a message from Kurz, who was still on the battlefield. “Uruz-6 to HQ. I’m still fighting Behemoth A—” There was none of the tension or enthusiasm she would have expected to hear in his voice. “I’ve disabled most of its main weaponry, taken out its clothes-hanger pole and its 30mm machine cannons. As far as I can tell, its missile stock is down to zero, too. But...” It should have been good news, and yet he sounded despondent and powerless.

Before Tessa could ask about it, Kurz offered the information freely. “We lost Uruz-3,” he said next. “Old man Castello’s dead. He took a bath of 30mm shells at close range, and then that thing ripped him apart with its hands. I saw it go down myself.”

“HQ, roger. Well done. Return to base,” Kalinin said.

“No,” Kurz protested. “I can see the enemy drop squad. I don’t have much ammo left, but I’ll hold them off as long as I can first.”

“You don’t have to,” Tessa told him. “Return at once.”

“Thanks, Tessa. But I want to hang in there a little while longer. If I didn’t...” Kurz’s sigh crackled through on the radio. “If I didn’t, I’d feel like I was letting them down. I don’t know what happened to Big Sis, either... Anyway, later.”

“Weber-san?!” Kurz cut off the call before she could stop him.

A helicopter cut through the cold Tokyo sky. Data picked up by the Arbalest’s dual sensors told Sousuke that it was a police helicopter. Four kilometers west of it was a news helicopter, and he could also hear a distant police siren. His infrared sensors, which had greater range than the naked eye, told him about a JSDF AS transport helicopter traveling along a fixed route, on standby.

The ongoing unknown battle had Western Tokyo in a state of shock and chaos, completely brought about by him and his enemy. Yet the city appeared so laid-back... This wasn’t like Kabul or Beirut; most of the people here seemed to be going about their lives, if somewhat nervously.

But that was still wrong. Things weren’t okay.

The school wasn’t safe.

Sousuke leaped the Arbalest from building to building, making his way to Jindai High as carefully as possible. He had no intention of abandoning his machine.

At 1100 hours, I’ll take the Arbalest to the old factory in Sengawa and open the hatch. That was the deal he’d made with the enemy on the phone, but he’d never intended to keep that promise. The enemy was probably the same way; they were going to do everything in their power to neutralize him and learn her location—torture, drugs, lie detectors. They’d find a way.

What that negotiation had bought him was time.

He’d ensured a ceasefire until 1100 hours. That was what mattered. Of course, the enemy was aware of that, too. It wasn’t just a sense of obligation that kept them from pressing the detonator switch; they wanted time to make the preparations needed to get him into custody. Having police and the media on the scene was making it harder for them to act than before. Maybe they could take out two or three police cars, but not fifty.

The one problem he faced was figuring out a new way, outside of the Arbalest, of locating the bombs. He’d run some recon from a distance, and as Kaname had predicted, they had a surveillance network set up around the school. Optical sensors, infrared sensors, ultra-wideband radar—there were likely to be human watchmen, as well. Even if he used ECS, they’d detect him if he got too close. That meant he couldn’t use the Arbalest to find the bombs.

In that case... After moving to the roof of an office building a kilometer north of the school, he ran a passive sensor scan around the area, then said, “Al.”

《Yes, Sergeant?》

“If I switch you to autonomous mode, what’s the fastest you could get to Jindai High School from here?”

《Approximately 40 seconds.》

“Upon arrival, how many seconds could you keep your anti-air ECM going at maximum output?”

《It depends on the conditions, but about 150 seconds.》

Sousuke fell silent, doing some simple math in his head. Then, he pressed the button to open the cockpit hatch. He pulled a submachine gun, pocket transceiver, and digital map from the rack on the underside of the hatch before climbing swiftly out of the machine. “Maintain ECS,” he ordered. “Stand by, alert mode 4. Come immediately when I call. The coordinates will be...” He looked at the digital map display, then punched them in.

《Roger. Closing hatch now.》

The Arbalest’s chest panel slid back into place, and the hatch closed with a thunk. Sousuke turned his back on the still-invisible machine. He was about to head for the roof’s exit, when Al stopped him.

《Sergeant.》

“What?”

《Please don’t leave me behind.》

Sousuke furrowed his brow at Al’s oddly-timed words. “I told you I’d call for you soon. I won’t leave you behind. Remain on standby.”

《Roger.》

“Why did you say that to me?”

《I have a feeling.》

“A feeling?”

《A feeling that we’ll be parted soon.》

Having abandoned her machine, Mao ran through the burning jungle. She had a submachine gun in one hand, and no way of knowing who was dead and alive. She was soaked from head to toe and covered in mud.

Though isolated in the ocean, Merida Island was rather large. It was about the size of metropolitan Tokyo, and the terrain wasn’t exactly accommodating to a wounded operator. Nevertheless, she had to keep running. She had to make it to the base, somehow. It was her only option.

Mao climbed over tree roots, leaped across streams, swam through muddy water and choked her way through smoke. Above her, jet helicopters roared. These weren’t their Pave Mares, but enemy transport helicopters—from the sound of it, likely Super Stallions.

Were they searching for her?

No, not possible. They were here to take the base; they weren’t going to bother with stragglers like her. Mao climbed from the stream to the cliff, cut through the grass, and then, pushing through dangling vines, she made her way southeast. She hated to admit it, but she couldn’t be sure of her direction; even in the jungle that was basically her backyard, she could barely navigate without a compass.

And then there was the fire, which made it hard to breathe. Her body ached all over. The environment was a greater threat to her than the enemy right now.

Her knee was bothering her, too, in ways beyond what her old injury would account for. She must have wrenched it again when she was escaping her damaged machine. Every step felt like torture.

Where’s the base? she wondered. I just need ammo and I can still fight...

As Mao continued down the animal trail, stumbling, her consciousness hazy, she ran into a white tiger. Its body was supple, and its markings were beautiful, like India ink drawn on Japanese paper. The image hung there, barely visible through the smoke that wreathed the forest.

A hallucination? She rubbed her eyes, assuming that to be the case. Just then, the tiger made a light jump and disappeared upwind. It seemed to be saying to Mao, “Follow me.”

“Dammit...” She gritted her teeth and, clinging to nearby trees for support, began to follow after the hallucination.

He could get extremely close, but the enemy’s tight surveillance made it impossible for him to get inside the school. It would be one thing if class was out for the day, but it was currently in session. With the school as quiet as it was, his approach would stick out like a sore thumb.

The minute he was seen, it would all be over.

How, then, was he supposed to locate all of the enemy’s bombs? They would be all over the school. He could think of any number of suitable sites—and he’d have to make sure he found every one of them, despite not even knowing how many there were.

It was impossible. Even with infinite time, Sousuke could only disarm one bomb by himself, at the most. There was no way to disarm them all simultaneously. Which meant...

Sousuke ran to a telephone booth at the corner of the shopping street a few hundred meters from the school. He opened Kaname’s cell phone, located the appropriate number in her directory, and quickly punched it into the public phone.

An electronic voice picked up promptly. “The phone you have dialed is currently off, or not being answered. Please call back later.”

Well, of course. He’s in class. Yet Sousuke did the same thing again.

“The phone you have dialed is currently—” The same. He hung up immediately and tried again. The electronic voice repeated itself stubbornly; it was starting to get on its nerves.

“The phone you have dialed is—”

“Yes?” The person he was calling finally picked up. The voice was calm, and low, and male.

“Senpai. I need a favor.”

Hearing Sousuke skip the pleasantries, the other person—Hayashimizu—said after a pause, “Trouble?”

“Yes.”

“Understood. What should I do?” he asked, without seeking details.

Sousuke gulped, then explained his request.

“I’m not sure,” Hayashimizu told him. “I could be suspended.”

“It’s necessary.”

“I was only kidding. I’d gladly do it.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. But...” Sousuke heard a small sigh from the other end of the phone. “This is goodbye, isn’t it?”

“Most likely,” Sousuke admitted.

“I see. Take care, then. I enjoyed our ten months together. I really did.”

“So did I. It’s been fun.”

“Give her my best. I’ll help as much as I can.”

“Right.”

“Good luck.” The man hung up, and a simple dial tone sound rang in Sousuke’s ear.

Kurama didn’t feel any particular obligation to blow up the high school, nor any personal inclination to see it happen. He was a big man, with short-clipped hair, gray stubble, and small, round glasses. He was also a mercenary. He was ruthless when it came to executing his missions, but that didn’t mean he was particularly prone to cruelty—or, conversely, particularly given to compassion. He’d do what was necessary, no more and no less.

And right now, Kurama’s copious experience was telling him, unanimously: No need for mercy. Blow it all up. The slightest hint of compromise now would lead to major pain later. Every word a man said was like a contract; a threat meant nothing if you couldn’t carry it out.

There was more to it, as well. Kurama had lost several subordinates to Sousuke’s resistance, and he had the right to avenge them. At least, that was how he saw it.

What this all added up to was a complete lack of compunctions about the idea of pushing the detonator switch. It wouldn’t hurt anything, and the man deserved to suffer: This was the sum total of Kurama’s thoughts on the subject.

“Any sign of the white AS?” he asked his subordinate, who was on standby in the abandoned factory.

The subordinate replied with a grumble. “No, not yet.”

“Understood,” said Kurama, calmly removing the safety from the detonator in his hand. When its encrypted signal was unleashed, bombs set at eight places in the school would blow up, all at once. One flick of his thumb would be all it took, and then the rest of the chips would fall where they may. He’d fight, he’d kill. The usual. And he’d do it all without hesitation.

Just then, he received a message from the surveillance team. “The fire alarm in the school has gone off,” it said. Sagara Sousuke must have done it. He’d called someone in the school and gotten them to set off the alarm.

But what good would the evacuation do? It might take thirty minutes for a high school of over one thousand students, who only did evacuation training once a year, to completely clear out of the building. Meanwhile, all he had to do was press a button.

His directional microphone picked up the cacophony. The bells blared, and the following announcement rang out through the school: “Testing, testing. This is the student council,” said a voice, clear and calm. “We’ve had a major disaster in the north school building. One of our aides—yes, the one you’re thinking of—brought a chemical weapon to school, which, due to unfortunate circumstances, has sprung a leak. Please evacuate the building in the next one hundred seconds. Any delay will lead to your death. Please hurry.”

A chemical weapon? Nonsense. No school would take that warning seriously. Just shouting “fire” would be more logical.

“Sagara Sousuke,” Kurama muttered. “Is this all your plan amounts to?” With a faint sense of disappointment, he adjusted his grip on the detonator switch. His hesitation lasted five seconds at most. He let out a small sigh, then pressed the button.

The bombs he’d placed should have exploded instantly, yet no detonation occurred. He pressed again, and again, but got no reaction. The signal wasn’t getting through.

While Kurama struggled with the detonator, the school’s students continued their evacuation. Their speed was beyond anything he could have expected; it was like they were all in a mad dash to be the first one out. He watched through the binoculars and saw the students rushing, as if in a race for their lives. It wasn’t at all what he’d expected.

“What’s going on?!” he fumed.

“Extremely powerful EM jamming. Origin: Point D,” a subordinate reported.

Point D referred to the roof of an apartment building to the north, a surveillance point he’d set up to watch for AS approach. Shockingly, the white AS had set up camp there itself, crouching down on one knee. It had made the bold decision to shut off its ECS, making no effort to hide itself. But why hadn’t the surveillance there—likely neutralized by now—noticed its approach?

Nevermind; he could figure that out later. The white AS had shut down its ECS to focus all its power on the jamming. It couldn’t last long—probably only two minutes or so.

“Attack at once,” Kurama ordered his subordinate. “It’s a sitting duck.”

Protecting twelve hundred people with one person and one machine: this was the unspeakably difficult scenario that defined what was likely to be Sousuke’s final operation in Tokyo. After parting ways with the Arbalest, he’d invaded the enemy’s surveillance point on foot, and silently neutralized the three men there who were on the lookout for an approaching AS. He’d shut off their monitoring equipment, opening a hole in their surveillance network, and then called the Arbalest to infiltrate the blind spot. Though Sousuke wasn’t there to operate it, Al had managed to guide the machine through, swiftly and cleanly.

After that, Sousuke had ordered the Arbalest to stand by at the nullified monitoring point. He’d left the apartment building behind, to sneak in as close to the school as he could get. There he’d waited, until the predetermined time, when he’d kicked his plan into motion.

The Arbalest unleashed its jamming at full power. At the same time, Sousuke hurried into the school building. His ally inside, Hayashimizu Atsunobu, had ordered the evacuation via loudspeaker in advance.

There was only so much time the Arbalest could perform maximum jamming; two or three minutes, at most. No school could complete an evacuation in such a short time. No school... except this one. This was the one school in Japan where it was possible.

Sousuke couldn’t believe that this was the solution: an almost absurd state of affairs that he had unintentionally laid the groundwork for over the course of ten months. He was worried he might end up like “the boy who cried wolf,” but his reliable comrade Hayashimizu had sold it brilliantly. The entire school had rushed to evacuate as if their very lives depended on it, just the way he’d hoped.

Are they that afraid of the things I do? When he thought it over objectively, it did seem slightly disturbing, but Sousuke was also grateful for their reaction. If he could get them all out onto the school grounds, then even if the school exploded, the students would all be safe.

All except for one, that was, and that was who Sousuke was currently running at full dash to save. He had so little time, and the time he did have was ticking down quickly.

The jammer function used by the Arbalest and M9s was the polar opposite of what happened in a stealth mode like ECS; it emitted powerful EM waves over a wide area, serving to block an enemy’s radar detection and communications. In a way, it was like blasting a siren over a loudspeaker to drown out a conversation.

Yet Sousuke and the others rarely used this function. Why?

Because it made your location crystal clear to the enemy, like a searchlight beamed into a moonless night sky. The jammer function would keep the enemy from detonating the bombs in the school, but it was basically suicide for the Arbalest.

An emotionless male voice echoed through the area around Jindai High. “Warning. Heavily armed infantry: twelve. Range: one. Vectors: 3-0-5, 2-2-7, 1-6-4.” It was coming from the Arbalest’s external speakers, broadcasting from the roof of the apartment building to the north of the school.

Sousuke and the Arbalest couldn’t communicate via wireless transceiver with the wideband EM jamming in place, but he could hear Al’s broadcast even at this distance. Al was using specialist jargon, speaking in English, so that locals and students wouldn’t understand it... although the enemy would. Still, Sousuke needed to know the situation, even as he dashed up the emergency stairway behind the north school building.

The enemy was on the way to the Arbalest. They knew the machine would be locked down.

I have to hurry... Sousuke had figured out where Kyoko was being held. At this point, he knew the ins and outs of school facilities better than anyone, and the only places where students and teachers wouldn’t venture at this time of day were the water tower area on the roof and the gym storehouse. Radio waves wouldn’t reach the underground storehouse, which meant it had to be the water tower.

Only one hundred seconds left.

Holding his submachine gun at the ready, Sousuke came out onto the north building’s roof. No sign of the enemy. After throwing out a smoke bomb to minimize the chance of being sniped, he rushed out. Due to the presence of the water tower, about a quarter of the space on the roof’s east side was blocked off by a fence. Sousuke ran up to the fence and bashed the cheap padlock off the gate with his submachine gun’s grip.

There she is, he thought. Beyond the fence, he could see Tokiwa Kyoko, bound to one of the steel legs of the water tank. Her hands were cuffed behind her, she was gagged, and over her mussed uniform jacket, just over her solar plexus, there was a pound of C4 explosives.

Her face was haggard from fear and exhaustion. The childlike eyes behind her glasses were red and puffy from crying. The minute she recognized Sousuke, a pleading sound squeaked from her throat.

“Just wait, Tokiwa.” He started to come toward her, then stopped. He’d noticed it—a laser sensor rig, designed to detect approach. He didn’t have the time to disable it. He stepped carefully over the knee-level beam, before running up to Kyoko.

“I’m here to save you,” he told her, cutting her gag off with his combat knife. “Hold still.”

Kyoko spoke up fearfully. “S-Some strange men came... they said they knew Kana-chan...”

“They were lying,” Sousuke said, and gave the bomb she was strapped to a quick once-over. I thought so, he thought. Nothing particularly complicated here. The remote detonation circuit itself is simple, but there are a few traps in place. Cutting the wire wrapped around her waist will activate the detonator. Pulling out the exposed fuze is a no-go, too... there’s a sensor on the fuze itself. I’d need time to bypass it, and I have less than a minute...

Kyoko spoke again in a pitiful voice, “I don’t understand. It all happened so fast. Is... is Kana-chan okay?”

“She’s fine. She’s in a safe—”

A sharp blast came from the apartments to the north. The Arbalest was under attack. The sound was probably from an RPG, a handheld rocket launcher. The Arbalest’s composite armor could probably tank the hit, but Sousuke knew they wouldn’t stop with one. He heard a second, a third, and more, all coming in a steady stream.

“I am currently under attack. ECM still active. Thirty seconds remain,” Al’s voice boomed across the yard. Sousuke couldn’t see him from his current location, so he didn’t know the extent of the damage. Either way, he had to focus on this. Twenty-five seconds left.

“S-Sagara-kun, Tokiwa stammered. “What was—”

“It’s all right,” he told her. “Just close your eyes.”

He couldn’t disarm the detonator in time. He couldn’t bypass the traps. That left one option: fooling the remote signal receiver. Sousuke pulled out some tools and a multimeter, exposed the circuit and looked it over. He recognized the model; he’d learned about it from Speck in the SRT, and he remembered the blueprints. He attached a cord to bypass the amplifier. One wrong move could set it off, but he didn’t have time to be choosy.

Fifteen seconds left.

He hadn’t triggered an explosion, but it wasn’t over yet. Sousuke read the number on the circuit’s capacitor and recalled its model and volume. He snapped the multimeter’s clip over the terminal, and adjusted the IO equally. The digital meter wavered slightly, then stabilized.

Ten seconds left.

He’d seen some police drama once; a scene where the hero had to choose whether to cut a red wire or a blue wire. This wasn’t like that. He wished this could be a one-in-two shot. The bet he was making had even worse odds: Sixteen leads extended from the circuit, fifteen of which were dummies.

Five seconds left.

He’d have to get into the head of whoever made the bomb. Given the makeup of the circuit, the maker was probably about as skilled as he was. The dummy circuits had a special smell to them, one that only an experienced bomb-maker could sense. Likes and dislikes, personal interests that guided their logic... Which wire would the maker mark for disarmament? What would I do, if it were me?

His hand on the nippers began to sweat.

Three seconds.

Which one?

Two seconds.

Which one is it?

One second.

If it were me, I’d choose...

With an almost ice-cold certainty, he cut one of the lines.

The instant felt like eternity.

“ECM stalled. This machine will—” An explosion drowned out Al’s voice. But it hadn’t come from here on the roof; it was the sound of another shell hitting the Arbalest.

He’d made the right choice. And Al had held out, too.

One hurdle down; he’d disabled the remote trigger. Sousuke let out a deep sigh, and shook out his tense right arm.

“Sagara-kun... Sagara-kun...” Tokiwa said.

“Don’t move yet,” he ordered. “I’ve only fooled the remote detonator. I need to remove the other traps now.” They weren’t out of the woods yet. None of the other bombs had gone off, which meant the enemy must have realized it was pointless—the other hostages had evacuated, after all.

The voice of the Arbalest had gone silent. Was it disabled, or had it simply withdrawn from the combat zone?

“I don’t understand. What’s going on?” Kyoko asked in a trembling voice.

With no better idea of how to respond, Sousuke just whispered, “I’m sorry,” and hurried along with his remaining work.

“Sagara-kun.”

“Yeah?”

“Is it the man from the hijacking? The, um... the bad man who took Kana-chan then?”

“No, he’s dead. He’s no longer a threat.” Remembering Gauron’s actions on the passenger plane, Sousuke continued his swift work on the detonator.

“Then why are they doing this? I...” Her voice was trembling. When she spoke next, it was as if the dam had burst on all of her pent-up anxiety. “Someone’s after Kana-chan, aren’t they? And they’re using us to get her? We’re all in danger, aren’t we? Why—”

“It isn’t Chidori’s fault,” Sousuke said, cutting her off.

“But then, why didn’t Kana-chan talk to me about it?” Kyoko asked. “I knew. I knew that she was carrying some awful secret burden. I asked her to talk to me again and again, and she never did. I thought I was her best friend. And...” Her chest began to heave. “You knew, didn’t you? You were the only ones who knew. I thought we were your friends.”

“Tokiwa.” He felt a pain in his chest, like a knife, grinding deeper.

“I don’t want to die without knowing anything. I don’t want to die... Maybe you guys don’t care if I do. But what am I to you? Am I just some outsider? I don’t like that. I can’t stand it. I’m not stupid.”

“Tokiwa.”

“Everyone else, too,” she went on. “We were all in danger, right? Why didn’t you tell us what was going on? It started when you got here. Something went off the rails. I don’t understand...”

“It’s—”

“Who are you?”

“Nn...”

“Just... who are you?” There was a powerful sense of accusation in Tokiwa’s voice, which had only ever been kind and gentle. And yet, there was no malice in her expression or her tone. She was just pleading with him, desperate tears streaming from her eyes. It was the pure and honest reaction of a person exposed, without warning, to concepts beyond her comprehension—the cruelest reaction imaginable.

Who are you?

“I am...” He paused in the middle of putting a clip on the detonator circuit. “I am...”

“A killer,” said a man’s voice from behind him.

Kyoko’s eyes widened, and she gasped.

Sousuke wanted to stop and reach for his submachine gun, but the nature of the disarmament process made that impossible. Pulling away now would activate the detonator. So instead, he just slowly turned his head back.

Three enemies were walking up to the water tank at a leisurely pace. Their guns were pointed straight at Sousuke. They had probably timed their approach for a moment when they knew he’d be locked down.

The man in the center appeared to be their leader. He was a large man, hair clipped short. He had five o’clock shadow and wore a black trenchcoat, and Sousuke couldn’t help but notice his fingers, which seemed especially long and delicate. His unassuming posture—a quiet, philosophical stance unique to hunters and snipers—suggested composure, backed by a hidden power ready to be unleashed at any time.

I see... Sousuke thought. If this was the man leading his pursuers, it explained everything that had happened since his flight began last night. Sousuke knew himself to be an exceptional soldier; yet this man had driven him to desperation, tightened the noose, and shaken him to his core. It was possible that the only reason Sousuke had managed to turn things around to this degree was his greater familiarity with the local terrain.

The man spoke. “It’s impressive that you made it this far all by yourself.”

“Not that impressive. Your incompetence helped,” Sousuke said, brazenly continuing his disarmament work.

“You’re not bad at trash talk, Sagara Sousuke... No. He called you Kashim-kun, didn’t he?”

“You seem to know a lot about me.”

“Some, not much.”

“Were you working with Gauron, Kurama?” Sousuke whispered.

The man raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You know me? I’m honored.”

“I saw a picture during my days in Lebanon.”

“It’s a small world in our business,” Kurama commented, “so that’s not too surprising. I was a little less than subtle in those days. But like you, I’ve changed occupations.”

“A mercenary who once killed five SAS members, now taking innocent high school students hostage?”

“I hope you’re not trying to accuse me of cowardice.”

Sousuke didn’t respond.

Kurama turned his attention to Kyoko, who just stood there, trembling with incomprehension. He snorted. “All right, honey,” he began. “Let me tell you, since he won’t; the man standing in front of you is a professional killer. He’s a member of a mercenary squad, well-versed in all kinds of weapons and tactics. He lied to you about being a high school student, and entered this school with forged documentation.”

“Wh-What are you talking about?” Kyoko asked shakily.

“When the mood strikes him, he can kill as easily as someone like you draws breath,” Kurama told her. “He and I are the same. Just minutes ago, he killed three of my subordinates without batting an eye. That’s no mean feat.”

“Sagara-kun...?” Kyoko’s trembling eyes flitted questioningly between Sousuke’s chest, his cheeks, and the backs of his hands. She was recognizing the half-dried blood on his shirt and skin—ruddy black stains that gave credence to Kurama’s claim.

“Of course,” Kurama went on, “that squad of his... Mithril should be extinct by now.”

“What did you say?” Sousuke demanded.

“Your base is on its last gasp, and sorry to say, the order was ‘take no hostages.’ So even if you run, you’ll never see reinforcements. That white AS won’t last long either... Our ASes will be coming here soon, after all.”

Sousuke said nothing.

“You fought a good match, but you have limits,” Kurama said. “It’s time to give up. Give me Chidori Kaname, and I’ll guarantee that girl’s safety.”

Kyoko gasped. “Give him Kana-chan? What does he mean?”

Sousuke was helpless. By the time he got far enough to take his hands off the circuit, they’d have shot him in the head right before her eyes.

Just then...

Someone else had arrived on the roof. He could hear the unsteady clacking of high heels, accompanied by panicked breathing.

“Tokiwa-san? Where are you? Everyone’s evacuated! Say something if you’re here!” The voice was female. A woman appeared on the other side of the fence. She was in her mid-20s, slender, wearing a suit. Her hair was in a bob. Her shoulders were heaving; she must have been running all around the school.

Kurama gave the order. “Grab her.”

“Yes, sir.” One of his subordinates spun around and ran back past the fence.

“Wh-Who are you?! Only school officials are allowed— eek!” The woman screamed and tried to run, but the man caught and restrained her almost effortlessly. “That hurts! Let me go!” He grabbed her wrist and dragged her back to the water tower side. Her face was pale and her lips were trembling in fear. “T-Tokiwa-san? And Sagara-kun? What’s going on? Who are these people? Why do you have a gun—”

“Looks like she’s a teacher here,” the subordinate said.

“Perfect,” Kurama replied. “Get her on her knees.”

“Ah!” The man did as he was told, shoving the teacher roughly to the ground by her shoulders. She showed no signs of resisting as Kurama’s subordinate put a gun to the back of her head. “P-Please don’t—”

“I doubt you’ll give up Chidori Kaname’s location that easily, so we’ll have to show you we’re serious,” Kurama told Sousuke. “Too bad for this teacher...”

“D-Don’t worry, Tokiwa-san. I’m your homeroom teacher; I can talk them down. Don’t be afraid, all right?”

Kyoko was afraid, of course—but as she peered at the teacher, her expression seemed to be more one of confusion than fear. At last, she whispered, “Who are you?”

“What—” Kurama began to ask, but was quickly cut off.

The woman moved like lightning. She knocked away the gun being pointed at her, twisted the man’s wrist, and then leaned forward to throw him. She had a small pistol drawn from under her skirt before he even hit the ground, which she pressed to the man’s head, then fired. He died instantly.

Sousuke moved at the same time. Having reached a safe stopping place, he released the detonator circuit and pulled out a knife, which flashed through the air in Kurama’s direction. The big man raised his left hand to protect his throat, and got a knife through the palm for his trouble. He hissed with pain.

The other subordinate fired at the woman, but he was too late. Using the man she’d just eliminated as a shield, she returned fire. Sousuke pulled his own pistol from his belt and fired at the man as well; the man took both shots to the head and collapsed to the ground.

Kurama took off, shielding his head with his knife-skewered left hand, spraying fire from the submachine gun in his right. Sousuke and the woman both ducked, letting the bullets spark harmlessly against the water tank. They returned fire moments later, and managed to land a few hits on Kurama’s body, but it barely slowed him down.

They kept firing until they’d exhausted their clips, but he must have been wearing a bulletproof vest, because they didn’t seem to have done any decisive damage. With a litheness belied by his appearance, Kurama escaped past the fence and was gone.

If I can catch and interrogate him—Sousuke changed his clip and attempted to follow, but the woman stopped him. “Wait, Sergeant.” Her voice was entirely calm, a total change from the fearful act she’d been putting on before. “You won’t catch him now. Focus on the bomb.”

Sousuke growled in frustration.

“Am I wrong?” The woman cast aside her bob cut wig and stared straight into his eyes. He looked her over once more. From a distance, she’d looked like Kagurazaka Eri, their homeroom teacher, but he could see now that she wasn’t. She had emotionless, almond-shaped deadpan eyes, and a tapered chin. Her skin was pale and her features delicate, reminiscent of a Japanese doll.

“Is that your true face?” Sousuke wondered.

“Unfortunately.”

“I never imagined you’d be a woman...”

“Is that all you have to say?” the woman—Wraith, of Mithril’s intelligence division—said dourly. “I didn’t have time for a proper disguise. You know I’d never show my face to you voluntarily.”

Sousuke knelt down by Kyoko, who had fallen to her knees in a daze, and resumed the last stages of disarming the detonator. Finally, he asked, “Where have you been?”

“Searching for you two,” Wraith told him. “Last night, while you were heading home from school, I’d moved to my usual monitoring point near Angel’s home...”

“Hold down that circuit board,” Sousuke said absently. “Do you have a light? Shine it in there.”

“Fine.”

“I appreciate it.”

“Liar.”

“It’s true,” he protested. “What then?”

While she helped Sousuke with his work, Wraith continued with her story. “Then they got me again—that silver-haired man and his robot lackeys. They crept up behind me... I don’t know why they didn’t kill me. Next thing I knew, it was two o’clock in the morning. I’ve been searching for you ever since.”

Sousuke disabled the sensor in the fuze, stabilized the circuit, then slowly removed it from the plastic explosives.

“Is it over?”

“Hold on.” He cut the lead wrapped around Kyoko’s body. The multimeter’s needle jumped, and the detonator circuit activated... but nothing happened, because the fuze had been removed.

“It’s over,” he announced.

“Good grief...” She must not have been accustomed to dealing with bombs, because Wraith let out a relieved sigh and wiped the sweat from her brow. “So, what are you going to do now, Sergeant?”

“You want to know where she is, don’t you?” He was being sarcastic, but as he said it, a shadow fell over Wraith’s previously expressionless face. There was no anger or irritation in it. It was almost like sadness.

Sousuke scowled at her questioningly, but Wraith averted her eyes, turning her gaze past the steel girders to the fence. “The man is gone, but we’re still surrounded. They’ll regroup and come again. The students are safe, but we’re still in the fire.”

“I know.”

“I’m saying that escape will be difficult.”

“Not that difficult,” he disagreed. The agent didn’t know about the Arbalest’s autonomous functions. If Al was still alive out there... “Al, do you read me?” he called over the radio.

《Affirmative, Sergeant.》

“Damage report.”

《Class B damage to right thigh and right forearm. Class C damage to left shoulder and left hip. ADC active. I have disabled AML to prioritize continuation of combat maneuvers.》

“Location?”

《Nearby. Approximately 800 meters north of the school. There are three enemy ASes with ECS capabilities approaching.》

“Can you shake them off and find us?”

《I will try.》

From the roof, Sousuke could see explosions in the city to the north. He could make out rising white smoke, and hear the voices of confused students from the southern schoolyard.

The city he’d made his home was in pandemonium. He wished it hadn’t come to this.

“You mean to fight to the end, Sergeant?” Wraith inquired.

“Yes,” Sousuke said, as he helped Kyoko up. “Defeat the enemy and escape. Return to Chidori and take her to safety. I don’t know what exactly that will entail, but I’ll go as far as I need to.”

“And if she refuses?”

“She won’t.”

“What makes you so sure?”

Sousuke clenched his fists. “Surety is irrelevant. Protecting her is the only thing I can do right now.”

“You—”

“I will protect her,” he declared fiercely. “I will.” The Arbalest was on its way, jumping from roof to roof, building to building, trailing white smoke. “I’ll use the Arbalest to take you and Tokiwa to safety. You can do what you like after that.”

“But—”

“I won’t give you Chidori. Don’t ask again.”

The agent said nothing in response.

Then, Sousuke put his hand on the shoulder of the puzzled Kyoko, doing everything he could to keep his voice calm. “I’m sorry I put you through all this, Tokiwa.”

“Sagara-kun...”

“I’m... exactly who he said I was. I don’t think I’ll be able to come back to school like before. This will be goodbye.”

“What? But—” Kyoko started, baffled.

Sousuke answered by handing her a key, the key to Kaname’s apartment. “When things settle down, go to her apartment. Take care of her hamster. Chidori’s been worried.”

“Ah...”

A gale swept over the roof, followed by a mechanical shrill and a crack of concrete as the Arbalest landed on the roof nearby. It was in bad shape; the white exterior was dingy, and damaged in spots. Its cutting-edge composite armor was the only thing that had let it survive so many hits from HEAT warheads.

《The enemy is approaching. Please hurry,》 Al urged over the radio.

The Arbalest crouched down and its hatch opened. Sousuke began to run toward it, stopped, and cried out to Kyoko. “Tokiwa!”

“What?”

“I had fun spending time with you. Thank you.” He didn’t have time to wait for a response. Instead, Sousuke leaped and slid into the Arbalest’s cockpit. “Close hatch,” he told Al. “Mode 4. Power to max.”

《Roger.》

The master suit in the cockpit adjusted to him immediately, and the generator revved up to maximum output. The ECCS picked up a signal: three enemy ASes were closing in. Bearing, north-northwest. Distance, 300 meters.

The Arbalest ran to the water tower area and scooped up Kyoko and Wraith. He could hear Kyoko’s scream through his external microphone.

《Lock-on detected. Two, one...》

Sousuke gritted his teeth, and leaped. The enemy fire rained down a split-second later, blowing holes in the roof and the water tank. The shots were exponentially more powerful than those of human-sized firearms. Steel and concrete went flying. Shrapnel struck his armor. The Arbalest cut across the road before the school gate and landed in a local factory’s parking lot, then placed its two passengers behind a truck.

That was when he realized it: Kyoko was doubled over in pain. It was immediately obvious that she was bleeding from the head and the arm, but the side of her white uniform had a growing bloodstain as well. She’d been hit by the shrapnel while he was dodging their attacks.

“What...” Like a new soldier just realizing a bomb had taken off his limb, Sousuke stared at her, dumbfounded. Damn it. It had finally happened. Why her? He wondered. Why her, after everything? What should I do?

Someone was shouting. “—gent! Sergeant!!” It was Wraith. Despite being battered and bleeding herself, she lay Kyoko on the ground and quickly began stripping off her blood-stained clothing. “I’ll treat her! You go!”

“Ah...”

“What’s wrong with you?!” she demanded, and that was all he needed to rebound from the shock. He could think about it later. His soldier’s instincts returned immediately.

Sousuke turned around. The enemy machines were already there.

《Enemies have deployed. Designating priority target: Mike-2.》

“Mike-1.”

《Roger.》

He sent his machine into a run.

The three enemy ASes cut across the leaden sky to nimbly surround the Arbalest, and then disabled their ECSes. Gray urban camouflage, massive silhouettes made up of curving lines: Sousuke knew them well. These machines were Venom-types—Codarls, the enemy called them.

How dare you... Sousuke fumed. He couldn’t use his shotcannon. He didn’t want to do any more damage to the city. Gripping the stick in his right hand, he drew the monomolecular cutter stored in his machine’s weapons rack.