5: Black Technology

28 April, 2332 Hours (Japan/North Korea Standard Time)

Tuatha de Danaan, Surface, West Korea Bay, Yellow Sea

The second his helicopter hit the flight deck, Kalinin was on his way to the control room. Muffled sounds of machinery roared around him as the vessel’s double hull began its closure. As he strode down the second deck passage, Melissa Mao caught up to him, still in her operator’s uniform. “Sergeant Mao. You’re supposed to be on standby in the hangar,” Kalinin said, not slowing his pace.

Ignoring his comment, Mao fumed, “Are we just going to pull out now?”

“Yes.”

“Abandoning Sousuke the way you did Kurz?”

“This was in their contract.”

Nevertheless, Mao persisted. “They’re my subordinates. My responsibility. Let me go. I only need two... no, just one hour. I’ll find them and bring them back. Please.”

“Do you think I’d expose a five billion dollar sub and its crew of 250 to danger for an hour over ‘please’?” Kalinin scoffed.

“I know it’s reckless,” Mao pleaded. “But the ECS’s invisibility mode...”

“The weather team’s report says it’s going to rain soon,” he answered, “and that it will last for two days.”

Although it was an incredible stealth device in many ways, the ECS still had a few weak points. One was that it emitted a faint smell of ozone. Another was that exposure to large amounts of water—rain, for instance—caused it to spark, taking it from “invisible” to “lit up like a Christmas tree.” It was one reason why Kalinin had wanted to hurry the rescue operation along.

“It’s just a forecast, isn’t it?” Mao insisted. “Those things are never right.”

As they reached a sturdy watertight door, Kalinin stopped and turned back. “This compartment is for control room authorized personnel only.”

“You’re always like this,” she accused him. “How can you be so calm?”

“Because I need to be.” Kalinin turned away from Mao. He passed through several doors before arriving at the control room, where Teletha Testarossa, in the captain’s chair, had just finished issuing their course.

Without a glance to Kalinin, she said, as if it were obvious, “You’ve come to ask how long we can wait?”

She really is good, Kalinin thought, and meant it. “We don’t even have a minute to wait, right now. The enemy has three armed patrol boats loaded with mines heading our way, and we’re in a shallow area with nowhere to hide. We need to get over 50 kilometers away as quickly as possible.”

“Of course,” Tessa answered. She gripped the braid on her left shoulder and pressed it to her mouth. The tip of it tickled her nose as she glared at the screen in front of her. It was a bad habit of hers in times of stress, similar to chewing on one’s nails. “But I do want to save the girl and Sagara-san.”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s possible that Sergeant Weber is still alive, as well.” If Kurz were the kind of man to die that easily, Kalinin wouldn’t have put him on the SRT.

“If I can buy us a few minutes before dawn, on the surface near the coast... can you think of something?” Tessa brought a sea chart up on her personal display. Her plan was to get far enough away, brush up against the Chinese navy in their territorial waters, then change course and return here at top speed.

Kalinin was a novice when it came to submarine tactics, but even he could see that this was an outrageous plan. “Is it possible?” he questioned.

“Not for a normal submarine,” she replied. She was smiling confidently, like a mother bragging about her son.

It was possible, then. He decided to trust his captain. “I’m concerned about the fact that Weber’s M9 was disabled,” Kalinin added. “If my thinking is right, we might have to use that.”

“‘That’?” Tessa asked politely. “To what do you refer?”

“The ARX-7. The Arbalest.” The moment the word left Kalinin’s mouth, he thought he heard the mad beast tied down deep in the vessel release a cry of joy.

29 April, 0226 Hours (Japan/North Korea Standard Time)

Mountains of Taedong County, South Pyongan Province, People’s Democratic Republic of Korea

An attack helicopter roared across the skies above. A blinding light brushed by Sousuke’s head. The pilot didn’t seem to have noticed him, though, because the craft kept going, clearing the summit and disappearing into the southern sky.

The silence returned. A gentle rain had begun to fall, and wind rustled the branches around them.

“Is it gone?” Kaname asked. They were hiding in a hollow at the base of a low tree.

“I think so.” Sousuke responded, then pulled Kurz out of the hollow.

Kurz had passed out from a morphine injection. His right arm was broken, and there were deep lacerations along his femur and left arm. Most people wouldn’t have made it even this far, with wounds like that. The bleeding had stopped, but the treatment alone seemed to have exhausted him.

“Chidori, can you still walk?” Sousuke asked.

“We won’t get anywhere if I can’t, right?” Her response was determined, but she looked exhausted as well.

Sousuke and Kaname were on either side of Kurz, practically dragging him along the mountain road.

“Could you guys walk a little more carefully? You’ve got an injured man, here...” Kurz whispered through a wince, apparently having woken up at some point.

“I’m impressed you managed to walk as far as you did,” Sousuke told him.

“The river carried me. It also erased my scent,” Kurz replied. “Guh... The major’s such a bastard. If I’d gotten out of my machine just thirty seconds later, I’d have been blown to bits.” Kurz smiled a masochistic smile. “Well, I guess that would’ve been easier than this.”

“Did the silver AS take you out?” Sousuke asked.

“Yeah.” Kurz let out a frustrated noise. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“What happened?”

“I lured it into close range, then slammed it with a 57mm. I felt sure I’d gotten it, but... next thing I knew, I was the one in pieces.”

“A directional mine?” Sousuke wondered.

“No... I don’t think so. It felt more like... an invisible hammer.” Kurz whimpered again in pain.

“It’s all right. You don’t have to talk.”

Eventually, they made it over the ridge. Beneath a tree that could have easily been a thousand years old, Sousuke spoke up. “I think that’s the last of our climbing.”

At the bottom of the slope before them was all open space: a farm settlement, beyond which were rice paddies. Beneath the starless sky, here and there, they could see the headlights of military trucks as they drove between the fields.

Kaname narrowed her eyes. “It’s wide open. If we walk out into that...”

“Yes,” Sousuke confirmed. “It’s very likely that the enemy will spot us.”

As Sousuke eased Kurz’s body to the ground, the man let out a moan and a barely audible stream of curses. Kaname crouched beside them with a stifled cough; she hadn’t complained, but she didn’t seem to be feeling well at all. Kurz’s breathing slowed to the rhythms of sleep as the morphine seemed to take effect again.

They’d spent three hours walking down awful roads in the middle of the night. To be sure, it was an impressive effort, but... There’s no way we’ll make it to the shoreline like this, Sousuke concluded.

Even trained soldiers in perfect condition would be hard-pressed to cross that open field unsighted. For the three of them, in their present condition, it was impossible. Even if the de Danaan was trying to save them, there was no way to contact them from here; the range of Kurz’s mini-transmitter topped out at a few kilometers, and they were still twenty from the coast.

Also, Sousuke was tired. His mind was cloudy and the pain from his wounds was getting worse. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t contact anyone. The enemy was closing in. No way out, I guess... He felt the familiar hand of death tapping him on the shoulder. “Chidori,” he said.

“Yes?”

“Listen to me.” Sousuke explained their situation: how they couldn’t contact their allies, how the enemy was drawing near, the weather, Kurz’s condition, his own condition...

She listened quietly through it all. “I see...”

“So... here’s what I propose,” he told her. “Kurz and I will stay here, make a lot of noise, and draw the enemy’s attention. We’ll buy you as much time as we can while you run west.”

Kaname was stunned. “What did you say?”

“Run west,” he said firmly. “Take this transmitter and head for the shore. If our allies have come for us, they’ll be calling on that channel.” There was no guarantee that she could make it that far unseen; no guarantee their allies would come for them. But it was better than nothing.

“But then won’t you guys—”

“That doesn’t matter. Protecting you is our job. And it’s better for one to make it out than for all three of us to get captured.”

“But...”

Don’t worry about me, Sousuke thought. I’ve accepted my fate. I knew this is how I’d go out eventually, and so did Kurz. His dog’s death will be the result of the choices he made. But you... “You deserve to live,” he insisted. “Go.”

My duty. My mission. They don’t matter—I just want to get her back safely, he realized. Even if she’s afraid of me, even if she hates me, I want to send her back to that joyful school building. Yes. If she didn’t make it back, I think I’d feel... sad.

“Go... without you?” There was a long silence. Kaname looked at Sousuke, then at Kurz. She seemed genuinely uncertain, even though she had nothing to be uncertain about.

If there was a way to save any one of them, they should take it—that logic was universal. No one would blame her for leaving the wounded behind, Sousuke thought. Running away was the natural choice.

The silence lasted for about a minute. Then, at last, Kaname answered: “No.”

“What?” Sousuke asked incredulously.

“I said no. I’m not going to run away and leave you here. There’s got to be another way out of this, so let’s put our heads together and figure out what it is.” Her voice was different now than it had been before. It was quiet and cool, backed by a deeper, resonating strength.

But Sousuke persisted. “Listen, Chidori; I’m a specialist. There’s no way all three of us will escape under these circumstances. Just getting you to safety will be difficult enough. Those are the facts.”

“The facts? You don’t get to decide what ‘the facts’ are.” Her voice had a slight anger behind it.

“But—”

“Shut up!”

Sousuke stared in disbelief at her bracing rebuke.

“The entire time we’ve been walking through this mountain, I’ve been thinking... and I’ve finally worked out how I feel.” She took in a deep breath, then proclaimed her diagnosis: “Sagara-kun, you are a huge idiot.” She continued, “I’m grateful that you wanted to save me, but don’t you see that you’re forgetting something? Something really, really, really important? I bet you don’t, because you’re a pathological downer and a fool... and there’s nothing nice about being saved by someone like that.”

“Hey...” he protested.

This was no longer the frightened girl of moments before. This was the Chidori Kaname from that school bursting with life, the one constantly blowing her top at Sousuke’s every transgression. She was standing before him now, feet planted and brimming with confidence.

“You want to know why?” she demanded. “I’ll tell you: it’s because you don’t care if you die. And that’s stupid! You don’t care about how I feel; you’re forcing this on me so that you can feel virtuous. Did I ask you to pine for me? Did I ask you to die for me? No, but I guess you think it makes you super cool, when it really just makes you a stupid downer jerk.

“Giving your life for someone only means something if you value that life. This is just a death wish! If you valued yourself, you’d at least try to fight this, but you don’t even care enough to do that! Think about it, okay? Who are you saving me for? Don’t you dare say ‘the mission’... and if you say it’s for me, I’ll kill you right here!”

The force of her rant sent Sousuke’s head swimming. He felt indignant, shocked, embarrassed, incredulous, confused... He had no idea what she was talking about. The one thing he understood, if vaguely, was that she was pointing out some flaw of his... and that she was right.

While his mouth flapped helplessly, Kaname just waved in annoyance. “Oh well, forget it. I’ll save us.”

“Wh-What?” he stammered.

“You said your idea was ‘the only way,’ right? That means you’ve thrown in the towel, and that means it’s all up to me. You got a lighter?”

“Yes,” he replied helplessly, “but what do you intend to do with it?”

“Oh, you know, set the mountain on fire,” she said. “It’ll draw loads of attention. In the chaos, we’ll steal one of the fire trucks or jeeps and beat it to the airport. Then in the chaos there, we’ll steal a plane. Don’t worry; I’ll fly it.”

“You, fly a plane? Do you have experience—”

“Of course not! But I’ve played flight simulators in arcades, so I’ll work something out. Once we have our plane, we’ll make for South Korea or Japan... anywhere south of here, really. Simple, right? So just shut up and follow my lead.”

Kaname’s proposal went beyond absurd into incoherent, yet her tone was completely serious. What might sound at first blush like a rant born of ignorance was something she clearly understood the full weight of. Flickers of tragic heroism passed across her face.

“I’m not giving up,” she said defiantly, and put a hand to her chest. “No way. You say there’s no way to save everyone? Well, I don’t accept that. I’m going to make it happen. You and Kurz-kun are coming with me. We’ll get out of here together, and make it back to Kyoko and the others. And then we’re going to live long, long lives. That’s my decision. You got a problem with it?!”

“Will and determination aren’t enough to make this happen,” Sousuke pleaded. “You need to listen to me.”

“How many times do I have to say it?! No!”

At last, Sousuke pointed his submachine gun at Kaname. “You have to go,” he told her flatly. “Leave us here and go.”

She tensed for a second, but then immediately relaxed, and looked straight at him. Her harsh tone from before was replaced by soothing calm. “If I don’t go, you’ll shoot me?” For some reason, there was pity in her voice.

“Yes,” he managed. “You’d be better off dead than captured and broken.”

“Oh, please... Talk about your tortured logic.” Kaname smiled and took a step toward him.

Why isn’t she afraid? Sousuke was starting to panic. His dawning realization that she was never going to obey him sent him plunging backward into despair.

“You’re wondering why I’m not afraid, right?”

“Um...”

“It’s simple,” she said kindly, pushed the gun away, and slowly pulled Sousuke into an embrace. She held him softly, with no trace of forcefulness. Her arms twined behind his back, and her cheek rested against his bloodstained shoulder. “I’m not afraid because I decided to trust you, just like you asked me to before...”

Sousuke could feel her heat against his chest. The pain of his wounds seemed far away, and his mind went blank. The blood pounded through him and all of his muscles tensed. He didn’t even noticed that he’d dropped his gun.

“So... So I don’t want to abandon you.” Her wet bangs tickled Sousuke’s nose.

“Chidori...” he choked out.

“It’s true... I was scared of you before. I felt like one of my classmates had turned into a completely different person. You were so strong, and so...” She balked for a moment, and then, as if to cast off her hesitation, continued, “But... you told me to trust you, right? So I told myself: ‘He’s doing everything he can to save me. So instead of being afraid, I’m going to trust him.’ Pretty noble of me, huh?”

“Yes,” he said at last. “Very noble.”

“Right?” she coaxed. “This is a major meet-in-the-middle thing for a teenager, okay? So you need to put in your effort, too. Don’t think things like, ‘I don’t mind dying.’ It’s too sad... Come back with me.”

Go back... with her? The thought was certainly appealing. If there were any way to do it, he’d try it in a heartbeat. How wonderful would she look in the morning light?

Why was he trying to save her? Who was he trying to save her for? Sousuke knew the answer. For myself, he admitted. I want to go back with her. I want to be with her. I want to live.

He realized he had never wanted anything more in his life. With that realization, his tired, battered body began to well with new power. “Chidori...”

“Sagara-kun...”

Just as their eyes met, awkwardly—

“Er... Mm. Ahem.” Kurz, who was lying beside them, cleared his throat apologetically. Sousuke and Kaname gasped and sprung away from each other.

“You... You’re awake?” Sousuke asked.

“’Course I am...” Kurz said. “Pretty hard to sleep through all that shouting...”

“You jerk!” Kaname yelled. “Why didn’t you say something?!”

“It wasn’t an easy thing to interrupt...” Kurz grumbled, scratching at his temple. Then, teasingly, he added, “Or maybe I should’ve laid low a little longer? I feel kinda like I ruined a good thing. I mean... whew. You two. Man, oh man...”

Kaname’s face went red. “It’s not like that!” she shouted. “I just got carried away in the moment. I don’t have any feelings for him! None at all! I... I mean it!”

She... doesn’t? Sousuke was stunned by her desperate denial.

All through this, Kurz couldn’t stop himself from chortling; he only stopped when he began to wince. “Ugh, even laughing hurts... But you lose this round, Sousuke. The girl says your plan’s a no, so it’s a no. Besides, I think hers is better anyway.”

Sousuke furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“Y’know, a mountain fire. It’s a good idea,” Kurz opined. “Way better than just dying here, at least. Of course, there’s no way it’d get going in rain like this. Think we could scare up some gasoline? But it still wouldn’t get far...”

“Right,” Sousuke agreed, “We’d just be giving the enemy our location.”

“You don’t know that,” Kaname interrupted. “An allied plane could fly overhead and see us from the sky.”

“We’re in enemy airspace. There won’t be any friendlies overhead.”

Kaname thought. “What about higher up, then? I saw it in a Harrison Ford movie, once... Spy satellites can see things from space. Do you guys have one of those?”

Sousuke had a moment’s hesitation about the thought of telling an outsider about Mithril’s recon satellite, Sting. But he quickly reconsidered, and said, “Yes. But it’s not as if it simply hovers over us. The orbits of recon satellites are highly classified; grunts like us aren’t told about them.”

“Actually,” Kurz whispered after a moment, “at the briefing before I shipped out, they showed us a satellite photo. It was of the airfield, taken yesterday at 1530 hours... What time is it now?”

Sousuke, eyes wide, looked at his watch. “0248 hours. Almost twelve hours since. Which means...”

Typically, a recon satellite took 90 minutes to complete one revolution. Given the rotation of the Earth, this meant they typically ended up above the same place once every twelve hours. If Sting had been over this area at 1530 hours yesterday, then it might make another pass very soon! And since they knew almost the exact time it would be here, why couldn’t they send a message in fire revealing their location?

Sousuke and Kurz looked at each other. “Heat signals” and “recon satellite”—these two key phrases, which might just snatch them from the jaws of death, had come to them from the mouth of a total amateur.

“What is it?” Kaname asked.

“I can’t believe we missed it...” Sousuke sighed.

“Kaname-chan,” Kurz said jubilantly, “you’re a genius!”

“Where did that come from?” she wondered.

Even so, the odds of the plan’s success weren’t great; lighting a fire would signal their enemies, as well as their allies. There was no guarantee that the satellite would see them, and even if it did, who knew if rescue would come in time? Letting Kaname run off on her own remained the better gamble.

Nevertheless, this was what she wanted: for them to go back together, or not at all. It was worth a try.

Sousuke stood up and shouldered his submachine gun. “I’d better go and do it,” he decided. “You stay here.”

“Okay,” Kurz said. “Don’t be... or, y’know what, do be reckless. If not now, when?”

“True.”

“Sagara-kun...” Kaname worried. “Are you going by yourself? You’re wounded...”

“I should be able to handle a little sneaking around. And...” Sousuke patted Kaname’s shoulder to ease her worries. “I don’t know why, but I feel re-energized.” And then, he vanished into the darkness.

With Sousuke gone, Kaname used a few extra scraps of cloth to wipe the dirt off Kurz’s face.

“Whew... thanks, Kaname-chan.”

“You’re welcome. By the way... did they tell you? The reason... they’re after me?”

“I can’t say I know much,” he admitted. “I got ordered to protect you, and I followed those orders. That’s pretty much it for me.”

“I see...” Kaname hung her head, then coughed. Her head had been feeling heavy for a while. It wasn’t so bad when she was talking to Sousuke, but an unpleasant feeling had begun to assert itself, washing over her and receding, like waves on the shore.

She felt vaguely like she was floating. Her mysterious dream from the medical trailer was coming back in fits and starts. Or was it even a dream? She couldn’t be sure.

Kurz seemed to have noticed Kaname’s state. “Not feeling well, huh? Did they drug you while you were in their custody?”

“Yeah... I don’t know what it was,” she told him. “They said it was a nutrient shot. It didn’t really do anything, but... my head’s been feeling strange ever since...”

“What else did they do?” Kurz asked.

“They... made me watch a movie.”

“A movie?”

“It was weird. All these words... they kept flashing in and out. I shouldn’t have known them,” she said wonderingly, “but I did... Basic elements for intervertebral disc dampers and palladium reactor reagents and such. The ECS’s invisibility mode is imperfect because excessive burden on the laser screen’s oscillation system creates an ozone smell—”

Kurz’s eyes went wide. “How did you know those words?”

“Um... Huh? What was I just saying right now?”

“You mentioned intervertebral disc dampers,” Kurz told her.

“Interver... what?” Kaname asked, feeling perplexed. “What does that mean?”

“It’s an AS part. You were speaking in jargon just now. And the flaws in the ECS... that’s something only military personnel should know.”

“W... Wait...” Kaname pressed her hands to her temples and shut her eyes tightly.

Kurz seemed agitated. “There’s no way a normal high school student could know that stuff. Where the hell did you learn about it?”

“I d-don’t know...” Was there some kind of secret stored in her brain? She thought back to the conversation she’d had with the doctor in the trailer. “Actually... one of them said something strange to me... She said I’d known those words since before I was born... She said I had something called black technology, and that... gradually, the knowledge... the knowledge...” As she spoke, Kaname felt the sensation returning. For the first time, she was consciously aware of what she knew.

“Knowledge... know... le... lelele... ah...” Nothing was rising in her mind, but something was sinking. She felt a vague of revulsion. There was also a sensation like déjà vu—the feeling when you come to a place for the first time, yet you feel like you’ve been there before. This was like that, but stranger, darker, heavier... So vague, yet so ever-present... “Can’t reme... mbe... r-r-r? Ber-r-rer...”

There was a monster hiding deep in her mind, and she couldn’t view it head-on. The more she tried, the more something in her soul revolted. It felt like her world was going to turn upside-down, and now it was all she could think about. I can’t do it. Can’t do it. Can’t. Can’t. Cacacacan’t can’t can’t... “Can’t... can’t-t-t... wha-what’s... going on?” It took everything she had to keep from shouting out hysterically.

“Hey, cut it out. Look at me... Hey, Kaname!” Kurz’s voice pulled her back to reality.

She realized that at some point, she’d begun ripping at the chest of her hospital gown. “Ah... what was I... I’m... I’m acting pretty crazy, huh?” Kaname laughed weakly, trying to sound self-effacing as she moved to hide her partly exposed chest. Instead, she just sounded half-dead.

“Listen, Kaname. Maybe you shouldn’t think about that stuff right now,” Kurz urged her. “Put it out of your mind. Don’t even... ugh.” His face contorted suddenly as if he was in pain.

“Are... Are you all right?” she asked.

“Of course not.” Kurz tried to lift his head, but it took all the strength he had. “Ahh, it’s frustrating. Dammit. Of all the times to be totally immobile...” He looked so helpless. Tears even began to form in his blue eyes.

Kaname leaned over a little more to blot away Kurz’s tears. “It’s not your fault,” she told him soothingly. “You’re really badly hurt...”

“But I just... I hate it so much,” he cried. “If I were feeling... just a little bit better, I’d have the perfect view...”

“Of what?” she asked him.

“Your cleavage.”

As Sousuke made it to the bottom of the mountain, the farm settlement came into sight again; he sneaked in and siphoned the oil out of an old tractor’s engine. He would have rather had gasoline, but all the tanks were empty—the economic crisis at work, perhaps, though the mere presence of a tractor signaled that the area was still fairly prosperous.

He ran out with the container of oil to one of the fallow fields. The wound in his side continued to throb, but it wasn’t so bad that he couldn’t bear it. Sousuke began splattering the oil over the ground there. He looked at the time: 0328 hours.

All right... He pulled his survival kit out of his pocket and crushed up the permanganate pills, which were used as disinfectant. He sprinkled the powder on the oil and lit his lighter. The oil soon caught fire, and the flames began to spread.

Sting captured images at extremely high resolutions; on a cloudless day with the sun shining, it could even read the print on a newspaper. It was the rain and the dark that would make them indistinguishable from the local soldiers, which was why he would write his message in fire: “A67ALIVE.” The A referred to Kaname’s code name, Angel; the six was Kurz, Uruz-6; the seven was Sousuke, Uruz-7. The message would convey that Chidori Kaname, Kurz Weber, and Sagara Sousuke were all safe and sound. Being careful not to leave footprints, Sousuke made it back to where Kaname and Kurz were waiting.

He didn’t need to tell them where they were. If Sting could see those burning letters, then all they had to do was track the movements of Sousuke, the one who set them, from space.

The oil fire went out in just a few minutes. Had the enemy noticed it? Had their allies? All he could do was hope.

29 April, 0345 Hours (Japan/North Korea Standard Time)

Sunan Airfield, People’s Democratic Republic of Korea

“An unexplained fire?” Gauron’s brow knit as he received his subordinate’s report. He was sitting by the maintenance trailer in a corner of the airfield, watching the Codarl’s repairs proceed.

“Yes. They say someone set a fire in a farm settlement fifteen kilometers west of here.”

“Hmm...” A diversion? No, some little bit of arson wouldn’t do for that. But it was surely Kashim who set the fire, either way... Gauron didn’t know what he was after, but he must be hiding nearby.

“The military is tightening the search ring,” his subordinate continued. “It’s only a matter of time before we find the runaways.”

“The man is expendable,” Gauron told him. “As for the girl... they’re free to break some bones or rape her if they want, but warn them not to kill her.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’ll be joining them soon.”

“In the Codarl?”

Gauron glared at his subordinate. “Do you have a problem with that? Hmm?”

“C-Certainly not, sir... But Dr. Kaneyama warned us to avoid using it in front of the locals...”

“A warning isn’t a prohibition,” Gauron said. “Besides, we’re dealing with Mithril... with Kalinin. Things could still get messy.” The navy had reported that Mithril’s submarine was far from their shores by now, having retreated to the outskirts of Chinese territorial waters. Even with emergency deployment boosters, it should be impossible for them to stage a rescue, but... “Let’s just be cautious,” he decided, “for safety’s sake.”

An engineer shut the maintenance hatch, and called out that the repairs were finished.

29 April, 0355 Hours (Japan/North Korea Standard Time)

Mountains of Taedong County, South Pyongan Province, People’s Democratic Republic of Korea

When Sousuke returned, Kaname came to meet him, relief in her eyes. For some reason, she was hiding her exposed chest with both hands. Kurz seemed to be asleep.

“How is Kurz doing?” Sousuke asked.

“Pretty well, I think?” Kaname mused. “People like him never seem to die, anyway.”

Sousuke looked at her questioningly, but sat down on a tree root without prying.

“Well? Do you think it’ll work out?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged. “Our odds aren’t great. You still would have a better chance running off on your own.”

“Well, too late for that. I’m not changing my mind.”

“I know. I won’t be giving you any more orders.”

“Thank you,” she said simply.

They could hear the sound of rotors in the distance. They didn’t seem to be getting closer, and in fact, about ten seconds later, they started moving away.

The dark forest was gloomy and cold, like a maze with no way out. “Hey. If... If we do make it back home, what will you do then, Sagara-kun?” Kaname asked, apparently finding the silence unbearable.

“Take on my next mission,” he replied absently.

“You’ll be going somewhere else, then?” she wanted to know. “You won’t come back to school?”

“Likely not. My assignment as a student there was merely temporary; to remain would compromise my other missions. I likely won’t ever see you again.”

“I see...”

Just then, Sousuke heard footsteps; he looked around. They weren’t human—They were faster and softer. There was panting. Animals? Dogs.

And then, even further away, he could hear human footsteps. Three, four... no, more. He held his breath. The sound of cracking branches grew closer and closer. There was a mad barking now.

“What—”

“They’re coming,” Sousuke hissed. “Get down.”

Almost just as he said it, two dogs jumped out from behind a rock. They were large and they were black, but the dark made it hard to say anything more. They rocketed toward them like a shot.

Sousuke did not hesitate to start firing. There was a whimper from the army dogs; one was moving so fast that it slammed into Kaname’s body before letting out its death rattle. Kaname shrieked.

The pursuing team had heard the shots, and began firing at them from deeper in the pine forest. Rifle fire bounced around, breaking rocks and snapping withered branches.

“You were followed? You idiot!” Kurz, awake again, scolded him.

Sousuke traded fire while he responded. “Time was of the essence. I didn’t have a choice.” Injured and with limited equipment, he’d had no way of covering the smell of his blood.

He caught sight of an enemy soldier peeking out from behind a big tree. He shot at his leg: a hit. When the man toppled, Sousuke intentionally fired a few more shots into the area around him. The soldier screamed and called to his comrades for aid. Another soldier—a friend of his, perhaps—risked his life to run out into the open and pull the soldier back behind the tree.

“That takes two out,” Sousuke noted calmly.

“Just kill them, dammit...” Kurz growled.

The enemy gunfire was getting more severe; reinforcements were probably coming from all directions. “At this rate,” Sousuke observed, “enemy ASes will be here soon, too.”

“Time to face the music, huh?” Kurz let out a dry laugh. Sousuke’s gun only had about ten bullets remaining, as well.

“I guess it’s over...” Kaname whispered.

“It does seem that way. I’m sorry,” Sousuke said while returning fire.

Kaname tried to force a cheerful tone. “But, no regrets here.”

“I see.”

“I’m glad I met you, Sagara-kun.”

“Right,” he responded gloomily, just as his bullets ran out. His only weapon now was the butt of his gun.

Kurz moaned, “Is it over?”

“No...” Sousuke said, looking up. “Salvation from heaven.”

A hundred meters above them was a parachuted capsule. Explosive bolts sparked, breaking the capsule open and dropping a white AS down from the dark sky. Its arms were raised over its head, as if to let it maintain balance as it descended.

“Here it comes...”

The AS landed on the slope about five meters away. There was a grinding mechanical noise as mud and pebbles went flying. The impact absorbent released steam from its joints, leaving the machine wreathed in a faint haze. They stared, stunned, at the snow-white AS.

“What is that thing?” Kurz wondered. It was a model the men had never seen before. Its frame resembled an M9, but the plating was different.

ASes’ forms were aerodynamic by nature, but it was even more striking in the case of this machine: sharp and powerful, the silhouette brought to mind a vicious bird of prey. Its countenance was knife-like, full of honed tension, and there was cold savagery there—once spotted, its prey would never escape. It felt less like a land weapon and more like the world’s most dangerous work of art. Fixed on its hip pylon—the armament storage—was a short-barreled shotcannon, and its armpit pylon held spare magazines and a monomolecular cutter.

“Who’s in there?” Sousuke asked, “Mao?” And where were their other allies? Was it just the one machine?

As if to address his questions, the white AS knelt. The cockpit hatch behind its head opened, but nobody came out. They waited a few seconds, but nothing changed—The white AS remained kneeling in place, unfazed even as enemy gunfire struck its armor.

“Hey, you don’t think...”

Without waiting for Kurz’s words, Sousuke flew toward the white AS. He climbed up to the cockpit. Enemy fire grazed him, but he couldn’t worry about that now. He looked inside and... “Unmanned?” There was nobody inside the machine. The cockpit had the same structure as the M9 and ASes like it, with only enough room inside to snugly fit the pilot. He slid inside; the multipurpose screen in front of him blinked, ready to activate at any time.

《Initiating voice print check. State name, rank, and identification code,》 the machine’s AI requested in a deep male voice.

“Sergeant Sagara Sousuke. B-3128.”

《Confirmation complete. SGT Sagara Sousuke recognized. Please issue orders.》

“Close the hatch. Begin adjustments to mode four. Bilateral angle: 3.5.”

《Roger. Running mode four. BMSA: 3.5. Procedure complete,》 it echoed. The cockpit hatch closed and the semi-Master/Slave control system activated. The machine was now like an extension of Sousuke’s body.

This thing works just like an M9, Sousuke realized. I can do this. He stood the machine up. “Chain guns, crowd control.”

《Roger.》

The two head-mounted machine guns roared, hissing out 100 powerful shots per second. They shredded the pine forest before his eyes.

Trees toppled; soldiers fled. The tide of battle had turned on a dime. From below, Kaname and Kurz stared up at the machine Sousuke was piloting.

Then Sousuke noticed red letters in the corner of the screen:

[Data recorder files | Review A-I—High priority.]

Sousuke ordered the AI to play the data, and Major Kalinin’s voice echoed around the cockpit. “Sergeant Sagara. If this message is playing, then I’m going to assume the AS has reached you. When our recon satellite, Sting, noticed you, the de Danaan was sixty kilometers from the coast. That was too far away to mount a standard rescue, so we fired this AS off in a modified ballistic missile, which is why it’s unmanned.”

“I see...” Sousuke mused. A ballistic missile could bridge the gap in minutes, but you couldn’t put a person inside one. The initial G-forces would be too much for the human body to handle.

“The de Danaan is currently on radio silence, speeding to the coast of the West Korea Bay. The plan is to brush by, pick you up, then escape with all speed,” Major Kalinin’s voice continued. “For one minute starting at 0430 hours, the de Danaan will surface at the shoreline—Find a way to reach the pick-up point by then.”

Said point was displayed on the digital map. It was on the coast, south of a village called “Hasanbuk,” which Sousuke didn’t know how to pronounce. It was about 20 kilometers from their current location.

The time was 0413 hours—only 17 minutes until their allies arrived on the shore.

“In addition, this AS is known as ARX-7 Arbalest. The AI’s callsign is ‘Al.’ It’s an extremely valuable test type, so make sure you bring it back,” Kalinin’s voice concluded. “That is all. Good luck.”

ARX-7 Arbalest. So that was the machine’s name... Sousuke tested the feel of it. Strength pulsed into his electromagnetic muscles from a palladium reactor. His every slight movement conveyed to him this AS’s superlative power.

《Approximately five enemy ASes approaching,》 Al reported. One window in the screen displayed their estimated locations and distances: straight ahead, a bit to the right, and to the left. They were approaching swiftly in formation to surround the Arbalest.

The auditory sensors picked up the roar of the enemy machines, gas turbine engines like a deep growl of warning. The optical sensors pierced the darkness to catch the shape of the coming enemy: khaki-colored armor plating, with two red eyes—Rk-92 Savages. They seemed to ski down the midnight slopes, rifles ready. They wouldn’t let him go without a fight, it seemed. It was five against one. And yet...

His fate was in his hands now, and his choice was to go home, with her. Finding the pain of his wounds strangely pleasant now, Sousuke whispered, “Al, you said your name was?”

《Yes, Sergeant.》

“Let’s finish these guys off in one minute.”

《Roger.》

The next instant, the Arbalest jumped.

“Wah!” The mud it kicked up splattered over Kaname and Kurz. They looked up and saw Sousuke’s AS land on the other side of the mountain, charging the approaching enemy.

He went that far in an instant? Even Kaname could tell that the machine’s jumping power was incredible. It was cutting-edge technology in the truest sense—The AS he’d piloted at the airfield couldn’t compare.

“Amazing.” She could make out about two enemy machines; they were khaki-colored ASes, which leaped off the dark slope toward Sousuke’s machine. They readied their rifles and fired.

“Ah...” she whispered. The next moment, one of the enemies went flying. She didn’t even have time to work out what had happened before the white AS was tearing at the next machine, sailing forward like a swallow in flight. It released a flash as it passed by—probably Sousuke firing a shot—and the enemy machine was sent spinning upward before it slammed into the ground and exploded. That was the last she could see with the naked eye.

The white AS cut through the valley, streaked through the air. It collided with an enemy, then seemed to bounce away. Wherever the white figure went, fireballs scorched the night sky. It was like watching a spark in the darkness, dancing and leaping every which way.

“It’s like a ninja manga...” Kaname said in awe. She couldn’t tell how many enemies there were; probably four or more. Each was promptly shot, smashed, or torn apart by Sousuke. There was a flash as the white AS bore down on the last machine, and it fired twice from its shotcannon.

“That’s five,” Sousuke whispered, breathing heavily. The enemy machine hit the ground, spewing smoke, and didn’t move again. It had taken exactly 58 seconds to silence the pursuing AS squad. With the caution of a cat, he remained alert for more attackers, but even ten seconds later, no more enemy machines revealed themselves.

Okay, now’s our chance... Sousuke started moving back to where Kaname and Kurz were. His plan was to pick them up and run.

Just then—suddenly, from behind the mountain to his left, that silver AS showed itself. It was extremely close and firing bursts from its carbine, its frenzied hostility on full display.

Sousuke strained with effort as he rolled his machine forward, barely dodging the shots before returning them with his shotcannon. The enemy seemed to anticipate this maneuver, and ducked before springing up again. It fired three more three-round bursts from above, but the Arbalest kept rolling forward, managing to dodge each one.

The silver AS landed with a shrieking laugh. For some reason, it had its external speakers turned on. “Nice dodging, Kashim!” Leaving no room for response, Gauron immediately resumed firing. Sousuke responded in kind. Every single shot missed, tearing trees out of the ground.

Normally, a battle between ASes was decided in a handful of shots: you made your choice between remaining still and sniping, laying out cover fire on the go, or focusing on evasion. You had to make those choices quickly and flexibly, based on the needs of the moment. Whoever made the wrong decision first would pay for it immediately with a fatal blow.

But battle between these two was different: neither one gave any ground. They ran, jumped, ducked, rolled, fired and fired, unceasingly. Every single shell missed, yet no matter how fiercely they moved, the machines wouldn’t grow tired. Until one machine fell—or until its operator had a breakdown—the battle would go on. It was almost like a dogfight on the ground.

“That silver one... that’s the one from before,” Kaname found herself whispering, as she watched from the mountaintop. The white and silver figures rose out of the darkness and disappeared again. One moment they’d gone over the ridge; the next, they rushed out from the rocks on the opposite side, bursting with fire. They danced through the air, toppled trees, and scorched the dark valley in red.

“Stay low. A fragment from a stray shot could kill you,” Kurz advised.

Kaname ignored his warning, and stood up to watch the distant fireworks. “Who’s got the advantage?” she asked.

“In a normal battle, they’d be evenly matched,” he replied. “But...”

“But?”

“That silver AS isn’t normal. It’s got some weird secret weapon...”

“The one that took you out?” she asked, her eyes locked on the battle like a woman hypnotized.

“Yeah. It just deflected my shells in midair, you know? Hell of a magic trick...”

“Magic trick? No... That’s not what it is.” Her head felt heavy. That strange sense of floating had enveloped her again.

A voice was there, whispering to her. It echoed around vaguely in her mind: That’s not what it is... it’s not what Kurz is saying... What that AS has... that’s not what it is...

“It’s not... a magic trick,” Kaname managed to say. “It’s a technology.” The enemy had it. But he... he also... “He’ll lose,” she declared at last.

“Huh?” Kurz blinked.

“He’ll lose at this rate,” Kaname said again.

A grenade thrown by Gauron burst in close proximity. The Arbalest dropped its weight to endure the blast and the shrapnel. Then, as it stood up, it grabbed a fallen tree and threw it. The tree fell between the two machines, allowing each to hide from the other’s sight. Then without taking proper aim, they simultaneously opened fire.

The pine was quickly shot to splinters. The Arbalest took a hit to the upper right portion of its head, which set off his machine gun ammo and took out half of his main sensors. At the same time, Gauron’s AS had taken a hit to its rifle; the tank of binary fluid explosives had cracked, rendering it unusable.

In terms of damage to the machine, the Arbalest was worse off. But...

I’ve won, Sousuke thought. His weapon still worked, and he was too close to miss. He fired his shotcannon at Gauron’s machine, which was still reeling from the blow. The eight-fragment DPICM launched from his gun barrel right at the enemy AS, and then—

Something unbelievable happened. The shot that should have hit its upper torso seemed instead to collide with an invisible wall, blowing it into sparking pieces in midair.

Sousuke didn’t even have time to cry out before a powerful shockwave hit the Arbalest. He felt jerked forward at great speed, then whipped back. His machine arced through the air, then spun into the mountainside. Gauron’s laughter echoed through the valley.

“Damn, that’s it!” Kurz growled.

What had happened? It was impossible to comprehend, even from this distance. It wasn’t a Claymore mine, or reactive armor. It was an invisible wall. Some kind of shockwave... that was the only way to express it.

The white AS didn’t move. It was hard to see from their current position, but it was probably trashed. If a hit from that had scrapped a sturdy M9, there was no way some dicey prototype machine would survive it.

Kaname just stood there, perfectly still. In a lifeless tone, she breathed, “What in the world...”

Silently, Sousuke sat up and shook his head. The world around him looked crimson; the gravitational acceleration from the fall had caused a redout. Numbness spread from his head to his toes. It took all he had just to move his fingers. His side felt wet and sticky; the wound he’d patched had torn back open, and the dizzying pain had returned.

He remembered Kurz’s words: Like an invisible hammer. That’s what this was.

He had also said it had torn his machine apart, and Sousuke’s had likely suffered the same fate. There was no way it could survive an impact like that. Now, without his AS, Gauron would kill him, and—

Over at last, eh? he thought. Then his red-tinted vision returned to normal, and his eyes regained their focus on the screen display. Blue letters? But that meant—

[Damage Minor: No reduction of battle capacity]

This time, it was Gauron who couldn’t believe his eyes. The white AS was slowly rising to its feet. Its head was half gone, but the rest appeared nearly pristine. He’d blasted that last Mithril AS to pieces, so...

“Hmm, why didn’t it work?” Gauron shook off his adrenaline high and checked his engine output. This time, he had a little extra latitude with the lambda driver—he’d charged the dedicated capacitor—so he didn’t lack for fuel supply. “A misfire?” he mused. “Most likely...” The device was still in the testing stages, after all; malfunctions were to be expected.

Gauron had the machine switch to one of the new, dedicated disposable capacitors mounted in its back. The cylinder rotated, like the barrel of a revolver, bringing a fresh capacitor into contact. “All right...” he chuckled. He’d use the lambda driver’s repulsor field once more time. This time, it would finish the job.

“What in the world...” Sousuke whispered, staring at the damage report. Other than the head injury from earlier, his machine was practically unscathed. What was going on here?

He heard the sound of a mechanical process taking place in the Arbalest’s back—the rotation of a cylinder?—followed by a sharp snap of contact being made. “What did you do?” he asked the AI. “What just activated?”

Rather than answering his question, the AI merely said: 《Lambda driver initialization complete.》

“What? What are you talking about?”

《Unable to respond. Please resume battle.》

“Answer me, Al.”

《Unable to respond.》

Though his screen, Sousuke saw Gauron’s AS unsheathe its knife-like monomolecular cutter.

Kurz was stunned. “He’s alive. How in the world...”

Was Sousuke safe? How could this be, when his own machine had been torn to pieces?

“I see...” Kaname whispered sluggishly, right hand pressed to her temple. “I... I think I... understand.”

“Kaname?” Kurz asked. “Hey, you okay?”

She slumped against a tree trunk and coughed, then spoke again, gaze fixed on the distant AS. “Feel sick. TAROS... He... He doesn’t know how to use it. P-P-Powerful defensive i-instinct, enough to of-off-offse... offset? The opponent’s...” Kaname’s shoulders heaved; her voice died to a mumble. It looked similar to her symptoms from earlier. Her eyes had lost the glint of sanity.

“Cut it out, Kaname,” Kurz begged her. “Come back to reality.”

“I... can’t. I want... to give... a hint...”

“A hint? What are you—”

“You’re always... saving me. This time... a hint...”

At last, Kurz understood: Kaname knew something, some valuable information that would help Sousuke win. Was she fighting some kind of internal battle, to wrench it out from the back of her mind?

“A-Artif-ficial n-no... s-s-s... interfere-rence w-w... TAR... ROS... No... N-No... Can’t...” She breathed out the words, mixed with sobs and moans. There was something almost carnal about it, as she arched her back and clutched her disheveled hair.

The mad display sent a chill up Kurz’s spine. “Hey!!”

Kaname spoke again, but not to him. “You won’t... beat me!!” she cried, then rushed for a tree and hit her head hard against the trunk. The recoil sent her pitching back; she did an end-over-end tumble. Curled into fetal position, she continued her ranting, incomprehensible, her voice breaking with tears.

“K-Kaname!” Kurz was starting to feel crazy, too. What am I doing here? he wondered. I’m a soldier, not a mental health worker! What am I supposed to do about this?!

“Ahh... ahh... mm... nngh?” While Kurz lay there at wits’ end, Kaname sat up again. She looked like she wanted to say something, but her tongue was too heavy to move. With a bloodcurdling look in her eyes, she took in a deep breath, and said, “Kur... Kurz-kun. Give... me... the transmitter!” Her manner had done a 180, and now her tone was urgent.

“Okay, but what—”

“I need to tell him!”

“Tell him what?!”

“Just do it!”

Sousuke kept asking, but the Arbalest’s AI wouldn’t answer. He didn’t have time to press the issue further; the enemy was coming. Having dropped his shotcannon in the earlier shockwave, Sousuke drew his monomolecular cutter from the machine’s underarm holster. But if he hits me with that thing again... The machine might be fine, but he wouldn’t. The mere thought of it put him in a full-body sweat.

Just then, a new voice intervened over a short-range communicator. “Sagara-kun, can you hear me?!”

“Chidori?” he asked, bewildered.

“Listen to me! Your opponent’s machine has a special device in it! It converts the pilot’s offensive instincts into physical force! And this i... is the important par... part...”

She seemed to be fighting for every word. Was she hurt? Was she all right? “Chido—” he began.

“L... Listen to... me!” she demanded. “N... Now... I don’t know why, but your AS also has one... a lambda driver! That’s why you’re okay!”

He had the same device? In the Arbalest?

Gauron’s AS had closed to a few dozen meters away.

“You were thinking about protecting yourself earlier, right? It reacted to that,” Kaname said quickly. “Whatever you imagine, it puts into practice!”

“Whatever I imagine?” Sousuke argued. “There’s no weapon that can—”

Gauron’s AS was in front of the Arbalest now, its red monoeye staring into his soul. With no prior warning, the air around them warped. A powerful wind kicked up, sending trees, grass, mud, and rocks flying. It was that shockwave from before—Sousuke was helpless. In the blink of an eye, the Arbalest was at its mercy.

“Whoa!” Sousuke cried out. The machine pitched back. But this time, he was prepared. The Arbalest merely stepped back a few paces and righted itself immediately. “Was that...?!” he called in shock.

“Yes,” Kaname confirmed. “He tried to tear you to pieces just now, but he couldn’t. You can fight back, too! Wish hard!”

“Wish?” Sousuke asked. “For what?”

“To beat your opponent! Focus all your spirit in an instant! Pretend it’s a kamehameha!”

“A kamehawhat?”

《Proximity alert!》

The silver AS bridged the gap between them, thrusting with its knife. The Arbalest just barely managed to dodge. Laughter poured from Gauron’s machine. “I see! That explains it!” he cackled as he sliced, launching into a dizzying display of melee proficiency. “Of course you’d have one! You’ve been harboring a Whispered! Right?!”

“What are you—” Sousuke started to ask.

“Oh, and did you know what my specialty happens to be? That’s right, it’s knives!” Gauron stabbed, swept, sliced, and thrust. He baited Sousuke for strikes and then dodged them. Each time the monomolecular cutter grazed his armor, it let out a peal of white light. “Well, what’s the matter? No time for delay!”

Gauron’s skills were incredible. A typical AS operator wouldn’t last three seconds against an assault like this, and with half of his main sensors destroyed, Sousuke was gradually getting overwhelmed.

“Do you remember, Kashim? I diced up everyone in the village, too! Just like this!” Gauron’s knife sliced through the Arbalest’s chest armor.

“What are you doing? Channel your spirit!” Kaname screamed over the radio.

“I’m trying!” Sousuke yelled back. “The force field won’t activate!”

“Here’s how you use it!” Gauron screamed, and hit Sousuke with another shockwave.

The Arbalest tumbled back over the ground. Sousuke’s vision went dark; he saw stars in his mind. But he got up immediately, readying himself for the continuing assault.

More sadistic laughter rang out. Sousuke’s enemy seemed to enjoy his struggle. “Isn’t this a stupid fight?” he cackled. “Two grown men trying to kill each other in toys they barely know how to use! Right?!”

Sousuke saw the shotcannon he’d dropped before lying on the ground about three meters away. He ran his machine low to the ground and scooped it up.

“Oh? And what will you do with that?” Gauron taunted. “Shoot me?”

“Ngh...”

“You realize it’s futile, don’t you? And you barely know how to use that device...”

He was right. Even if Sousuke fired the shotcannon, the enemy would use its force fields to deflect the shells. Gauron seemed to know a little how the system worked, and he had some practice with using it. But Sousuke... Even if he managed to avoid his enemies’ attacks, he had no way to fight back.

The silver AS gave its knife a skillful twirl as it strode slowly toward the Arbalest. Gauron wouldn’t pull his punch this time; he’d stab right into the cockpit and kill him.

“Listen, Sagara-kun. It’s all about a moment’s focus!” Kaname shouted desperately. “Breathe in slowly, then let it out all at once. In that moment, imagine pouring your will into the shot!”

“But...” He couldn’t do it. He just didn’t understand what she was saying.

“Okay, let’s try this,” she said. “You lose: I’m captured, stripped naked, poked and prodded, then killed. Imagine that sight!”

“What?”

“Just imagine it!”

Sousuke went silent. He didn’t have to try for long for the horrific image to come to him.

“You don’t like that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“It makes you mad?”

“It does...”

“That’s what he’s trying to make happen, okay? So, are you going to let him do it?!”

A simmering anger began to displace the desperation that had been fueling him moments ago. “I’m not.”

“Of course not! Now, point your gun at him!”

Sousuke aimed the shotcannon at his enemy. He stopped telling himself it was futile. He stopped caring about where this was leading, or about how she knew what she knew. She trusted me. This time, I’ll trust her.

“A last-ditch effort? How disappointing... Ah, well. Time to die.” Gauron swung back his knife and charged straight for the Arbalest. It seemed he was ready to finish things at last.

“Don’t worry. Close your eyes,” Kaname said, her voice perfectly calm. “Imagine punching him with your bare fist.”

To close one’s eyes before the enemy was the height of recklessness, yet Sousuke did as she said. His machine’s AI continued to blare proximity alerts, but he blocked them out. He was visualizing himself punching that AS.

“Now, open your eyes...”

He saw the image on the screen. The raging enemy machine entering close range; his shotcannon pointed at it.

“Die!” Gauron screamed ferociously.

Meanwhile, Kaname spoke quietly, “Breathe in...”

Sousuke took a deep breath.

“Imagine it...”

He imagined his will filling the shell.

“Now!!”

“Hgn!” The shot fired off at close range. Gauron’s machine launched its shockwave to block it, but at the same time, the Arbalest’s mysterious device activated, giving form to Sousuke’s own image.

What happened next, Sousuke wasn’t exactly sure. Two somethings collided, warped the air around them, twisted, and shrieked. Gravity seemed to lose all meaning as he felt himself pulled one way and then the other. And then, at last, the shotcannon’s blast collided with the silver AS.

“What...”

The eight-splinter HESH blasted Gauron’s AS back, tearing off its arms. It exploded before it could even hit the ground.

The force of the blast sent the Arbalest tumbling head-over-heels before stopping on its back. Sousuke heard metal shards clink against his armor; he held silent, for a few moments, then sat his machine up amidst the rain and fire and wind.

Gauron’s AS was in ruins. Its arms and head were gone, and most of the chest was blown off. What had moments before been a giant roaring with savage life was now a twisted heap of scrap. Gauron must have died instantly.

“Sagara-kun,” Kaname cried out. “Are you all right?!”

“Affirmative,” he managed after a moment. Sousuke turned his back on the wreckage and ran back to where the others were waiting. “I’m on my way. We’re getting out of here.”

They’d have to hurry. He’d lost close to five minutes on that battle.

Sousuke returned to where Kaname and Kurz were and knelt his machine down. “Are you feeling all right, Chidori?”

“Yeah... better than before. I forgot... almost everything I said, though...”

She must have pushed herself so hard to give him that advice. If not for her strength, what would have become of him? He could hear rotors pounding from the eastern sky: helicopters, to reinforce the pursuer squad.

“Let’s go,” he said shortly. “We don’t have time.” He snapped the shotcannon to the Arbalest’s back, freeing up its hands, then picked up Kurz and Kaname and started running. 20 kilometers in ten minutes—With a machine like this, he could make it in time. The Arbalest crossed the slope in an instant, one person in each hand. Kicking up gravel, smashing through low trees, it burst out onto the open farmland.

“Ngh...” A groan leaked from Kurz’s throat. The pain must have been agonizing.

Sousuke tried to be gentle, keeping his speed at just about 120 kilometers per hour. But there was no way to make them completely comfortable—an AS was more or less the world’s worst vehicle for transporting the injured.

Crushing fertile rice paddies beneath its feet, the Arbalest continued west. Sousuke ran into armored cars here and there, but he ignored them all; even if they fired, he could just outrun them.

But as they got within a few kilometers of the shore... 《Enemy helicopter approaching. Relative bearing: 7 o’clock. Distance: Eight,》 the AI warned. His rear alarm sensors displayed a heat source: an attack helicopter was after him. “Here we go!” he yelled.

《Rocket warning! Two, one...》

Emergency maneuvers. Sousuke swung his machine hard to the right, dodging the air-to-surface rocket launched at him. Kurz let out a scream, but it was swallowed by the explosion.

《Enemy helicopter approaching at matching speed: 130. Necessity of counterattack: High.》

“I know, but... dammit...”

The helicopter launched another rocket at him. He managed to dodge this one, barely, but avoidance would become impossible if it came any closer.

What now? he wondered. With his machine moving at a mere 120 kilometers per hour, the helicopter would catch up shortly. He couldn’t use his shotcannon; his machine’s hands were full. In his right hand was Kaname, in his left hand, Kurz. He didn’t have time to set them down, and the helicopter was right on his tail. What now?!

“Kaname!” he said urgently.

“Wh-What?”

“Sorry!”

The Arbalest tossed Kaname into the air, mid-run. Kaname’s mouth opened wordlessly.

Now Sousuke’s right hand was free. He drew his gun, whipped around, and fired two shots. Then he cast the gun aside, turned forward again, and charged with all his might.

Kaname’s silence broke into a prolonged scream as she hit the peak of her arc and began to plummet. Pitching his machine forward, Sousuke managed to catch her. He nearly toppled completely, but he strained and managed to maintain control. At almost the same instant, the now-trashed attack helicopter plunged into the field and exploded.

Sousuke, meanwhile, just kept running. “Kaname?!” he called. There was no response.

“Mm...” She seemed to have lost consciousness, but at least she was breathing. He’d offer treatment and apologies later; for now, he just had to move. They had only one minute left.

At last, the shore came into sight. “There it is!” he breathed. The sea beneath the ink-black sky was darker than the night itself. To their right was a beach. To their left, a cape. Sousuke steered his machine toward the latter.

《Two AS sighted. Relative bearing: 11 o’clock. Distance: Six.》

There were two Savages in front of him, blocking his way to the cape. They must have sent them to guard the shore; there was an enemy force coming from the beach side as well. Four machines, five—no, more. He was surrounded.

These were ASes, too; they were more difficult opponents than the attack helicopter from before, and on top of that, he had no way of fighting them. He couldn’t count on that strange force field, either. He muttered a curse.

The enemy machines just ahead were pointing their rifles at him. Just then—

“Uruz-7, keep running,” a woman’s voice said over his radio.

“M—” Before he could finish her name, the two machines ahead of him took hits and collapsed.

The shots had come from the sea; he turned. In the gaps between waves 300 meters away, he could make out an AS holding a massive rifle. It was Mao’s M9, kneeling on the ocean’s surface. No, it was on a boat—The Tuatha de Danaan was surfacing. Cutting through the pitch black sea, parallel to the coastline, the massive vessel revealed its back.

“Hey, Sousuke?” Mao called. “We only get one chance at this. Jump right off the cape!” The M9 beckoned him from the back of the enormous submarine.

The Arbalest ran, moving from sand to rocky ground as the two enemy AS squads pursued from behind. Sousuke climbed up the rocky slope. The cape was shaped like a ski jumper’s hill.

He dashed over rocks and grass, as his pursuers fired from behind. A pine tree to his right exploded into splinters. Still, he picked up speed. He couldn’t turn back.

He quickly came to the tip of the cape. Just beyond was the cliff and the sea. Casting off all hesitation, holding his two charges carefully in either hand... He jumped.

The ground below disappeared. Sousuke felt weightless. There were only dark waves below him now.

The de Danaan drew nearer. Mao’s AS spread its arms and...

“Okay!” It caught the Arbalest neatly.

“Uruz-7 retrieved! Admission via hatch four... complete!” Mao’s report echoed through the control room.

“Initiate closure of hatch four. Two seconds remain. Closure complete,” the officer in charge reported. The front screen displayed the words, “Pressure Secured.”

Teletha Testarossa nodded. “Hard to starboard, heading 2-0-5, flank speed. Be careful not to ground us.”

“Aye aye, ma’am. Hard to starboard, heading 2-0-5, flank speed,” the navigator repeated. The submarine banked right as enemy shells roiled the sea around it. Each wave that slammed into them sent a vibration through the hull.

The speed display on the screen quickly rose over 50 knots—close to 92 kilometers per hour. Even the fastest submarines usually topped out at 40 knots, yet the de Danaan broke that easily. The speed display continued to rise.

“Current speed, 65 knots,” the navigator said. 120 kilometers per hour. It was this incredible propulsion system that had brought the de Danaan back so quickly from distant waters. The Tuatha de Danaan pulled away from the shore. “Taking sub to depth 50. Flooding main ballast tank. Dive angle, five degrees. Maintain current speed.”

“Aye. Initiating dive.” The helm officer executed the orders given. Tessa and her XO, Mardukas, monitored the submarine’s dive process closely.

“We’ve never worked it so hard before,” Mardukas muttered.

“The superconductive propulsion system?” Tessa asked.

He nodded. “Yes. It’s tougher than I expected. It seemed so delicate when we were first testing it...”

“It surprised me as well. Which feels strange to say, as the one who designed it...” Tessa smiled and turned back to the screen. The task of breaking through the patrol boats remained.

Kaname and Kurz were still asleep in the sickbay, but after a quick patch-up, Sousuke returned to the hangar. It was quiet there; with the boat running on silent, not even the maintenance crew were present.

He was wrapped in bandages as he looked up at the kneeling ARX-7 Arbalest. Its once-pristine white armor was covered in mud and grass stains. Its plating was scarred, with the right upper half of the head missing. In this light, it looked like a normal AS—your run-of-the-mill test weapon based on the M9 Gernsback. But what in the world...

“I see you’ve been through hell.” Sousuke turned toward the voice and saw Major Kalinin walking up to him. “What happened to Gauron?” the major asked.

“He’s dead,” Sousuke answered. “This time, I’m sure of it.”

“I see. I wish I could have been there to see it,” Kalinin said with rare sincerity. “You look like there’s something else on your mind.”

“There is, sir. Just what is the lambda driver?”

It was a blunt question, but one Kalinin seemed to be expecting. “Gauron really did have one, then?”

“He did. And this AS does, too... Doesn’t it?”

“Yes,” Kalinin confirmed. “When I heard about the way Weber’s M9 was destroyed, I had an uneasy feeling about it... That’s why we sent the Arbalest: an AS equipped with that device can only be opposed by another like-equipped AS.”

That explained why they’d sent such a valuable test-type unmanned into hostile enemy territory. But... “You haven’t answered my first question,” Sousuke said. “What is the lambda driver?”

“You don’t need to know that,” Kalinin replied. “Not yet, anyway.”

“Major. I know how basic physics works. I’ve never heard of a device producing power like that.”

“Of course not. Its conception is beyond anyone in this world.”

Sousuke was confused. “What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure how this comes off to your generation, but...” The major’s voice was heavy. “The weapons technology we currently employ is unnatural. It went off the rails around the time ASes came on the scene. The lambda driver is one extreme example, but the ECS, this vessel’s propulsion system, its computers and sensors... they’re all too advanced. It’s all wrong. Robot weapons, once the purview of science fiction, now dominate the battlefield. Haven’t you ever found it unnatural?”

It was a surprise to hear those words from Kalinin, a man who regularly commanded and coordinated missions with those very weapons. “I never thought about it... until today,” Sousuke admitted.

“I’ve harbored these doubts for a long time, myself. I’m not the only one who feels that way, either... Many people feel these things should not exist,” Kalinin told him. “Yet, they do. I don’t know who came up with them, but the theory and the technology exist, and society has accepted them.”

Sousuke remained silent.

“But I’ll say it again, for good measure: these things shouldn’t exist.” The major indicated the Arbalest with his gaze; what seemed minutes ago like a trustworthy ally was suddenly grotesque to Sousuke’s eyes. “The technology that produces ASes and other modern weapons—black technology—who came up with it?” Kalinin continued. “More importantly, where did it come from? You have an idea now, don’t you?”

“People like Chidori, sir?” Sousuke hazarded a guess. “The ones they call ‘Whispered’?”

“You didn’t hear that from me, but keep it in mind.” Kalinin walked up to the Arbalest and appraised the battle damage. “As for Chidori, we’ll likely leak a false report through our intelligence department.”

“A false report?”

“We’ll say that Gauron’s men investigated her and determined that she wasn’t a Whispered,” Kalinin told him. “If someone happens to try to abduct her anyway, they’ll reap the consequences: we’ll crush their hideouts and retrieve her as many times as it takes.”

Things were going to go back to normal for her. Sousuke was glad, but at the same time, he felt a powerful sense of loss. He’d have his next mission coming up; there was no place left for him in Kaname’s life. That school, that town, those people... all those things he’d found so bewildering were receding further and further by the moment.

“However,” Kalinin added, interrupting his thoughts, “given this latest incident, I think insurance will be necessary.”

“Huh?”

“You did well today. Get some rest.” Putting an end to the questioning, the major left.