3: Yamsk-11

The transport helicopter dropped off Sousuke and Tessa before it took off again, leaving them in eerie silence. The two Pave Mares and Kurz’s M9 would be waiting at three separate points five kilometers away, and would come the moment Tessa called for them. Gebo-6’s pilot had asked if they could wait on-site, but Tessa had denied the request, knowing that if the enemy did come, it would be easier to take countermeasures if they were hidden some ways away.

It was dusk. A cold wind whispered through the dry grass. A support in a nearby house collapsed abruptly with an unsettling scream, perhaps due to pressure created by the downdraft.

“Here,” said Tessa, manipulating a digital map on her tablet before heading northwest. She was wearing hiking boots and shorts, together with a thick sweatshirt and baggy flight jacket. A bag of explosives hung from her shoulder, but she carried no gun. She might have looked as if she was going on a picnic, had there been any scenery worth appreciating in the area.

Meanwhile, Sousuke wore a tactical vest over his black AS operator’s uniform. He had a 5.56mm carbine with six spare clips, plus two each of hand, smoke, and incendiary grenades. He’d also brought as much C4 as he could carry. On top of that, he had his usual Glock 19, which one of Lemon’s colleagues had found and returned to him after his near-death experience in Namsac. There was nothing particularly special about the pistol, but he’d been using it for close to two years and had formed an attachment to it.

“What’s our destination?” he asked.

“The plant on the north side,” Tessa answered, squinting thoughtfully down the road as she walked.

Sousuke followed after her wordlessly. It was true that there had been no sign of the enemy, but it still seemed strange to him that he was her only bodyguard. If she wants an escort in case of trouble, he thought, why not arm the helicopter crew and bring them along?

It seemed that Tessa had anticipated this question, as she now said, “Are you thinking it’s strange that you’re the only person I brought?”

“Yes.”

“The truth is, I’d have preferred to come alone... But if I had to choose one person to come with me, I thought you were the most suitable.”

Sousuke looked at her questioningly.

“This is where the secret of the Whispered lies.” Sousuke’s eyes widened in surprise at that admission, but Tessa wasn’t done. “You’re the operator of the one and only Laevatein,” she continued. “It was made by Mira-san, but it integrates Al and the basic system of the Arbalest, which were both created by a man named Bani Morauta. You also saved Mira-san in Siberia, and you’ve saved me as well, many times. Then there’s Kaname-san, whom you’re trying to save at any cost. I don’t think anyone in the world has a stronger connection to the Whispered than you.”

Tessa had a point, but her list was incomplete—while Sousuke had no real confirmation of it, he still believed that Nami, the girl he’d met in Namsac, might have been a Whispered, as well. Then there was Leonard... Sousuke wasn’t certain, but Tessa’s twin also seemed to be one. All in all, he had significant connections to six members of that supposedly rare breed. Sousuke still didn’t understand what the Whispered were, but felt it was all too much to be a coincidence; the smell of destiny hung thick over his connections with these people.

“I don’t understand it either,” Tessa admitted. “Whether it’s a coincidence, or some kind of destiny... Despite how I may seem, I do believe in God. And if it’s true that someone’s watching over us, in some form or other... Sagara-san, you are like the Messiah, sent by God to save us.”

“Oh, come on...” he scoffed. ‘Messiah’? It sounded like a joke. Maybe he did have some kind of karmic connection to the Whispered, but he was still just a soldier, a man whose only skill was being pretty good with a gun. He had failed to save Nami, and his chances of saving Kaname also seemed slim.

But then he remembered that the girl, Mira, had said something similar to him back on the ship... It hadn’t been a lengthy chat, exactly. She’d thanked him for what he’d done in Siberia, and he’d thanked her for Al and the Laevatein. Mira had explained about her recovery, and how she was now working with Hunter and other members of the intelligence division; in turn, Sousuke had given a summary of his own recent history. And when they’d parted ways, she had said with a smile, “I don’t know why, but... I think you might just save us all.”

“I’m not trying to put pressure on you,” Tessa said kindly, here in the moment. “But the things you’re capable of... They give me the most curious feeling. There’s an old Chinese saying, ‘Before God gives you a great mission, he puts you through trials to see what you can do.’ You’ve faced nothing but trials in your life, but they’ve made you extremely capable. And you have the kindness to deal with an awful woman like me,” she added. “How is it that you haven’t lost your kindness, despite a life spent in the madness of battle? I feel like it has to mean something. Perhaps it just means you’re here to bear witness to our destruction, but...”

Sousuke was surprised at Tessa’s mention of ‘an awful woman like me,’ but otherwise thought that this was a pleasant return to her old form of humor. So he didn’t try to argue, but only shared his thoughts, instead. “I’m not sure.”

“Neither am I. I just feel like... you should know everything I know, that’s all.” Tessa stopped, then looked back at him. “That’s the reason I brought you here.” While Sousuke struggled for an answer, she smiled quietly and resumed her walk.

For a while, all they could hear was the wind and their footsteps. But as they passed through the residential block, Sousuke noticed bullet holes in the side of an old car on the road. That thing didn’t just break down, he realized. Was there a battle here, once? Looking around carefully, he saw signs of explosions and more bullet holes in the road and the buildings, along with traces of old fires.

They were nearing the northern end of the abandoned secret city, primarily taken up by the remains of a large chemical plant. The rusty, intertwining structure had an eerie air to it, different from the rest of the town. Winding pipes of all kinds, smokestacks casting black shadows, lines of empty silos and storage tanks... It was like looking at the carcass of some strange megafauna that had died ages ago.

“Colonel,” he said. “This town...”

“Almost no one in the current Soviet government knows that it exists,” Tessa told him. “Nearly all records of it were lost in the coup d’état and ensuing civil war. I’ve been searching for its existence in my spare time... without any luck. But then recently, Mira-san gave me a hint. She was able to recall a name she overheard while locked away in that Siberian facility. Tracing that name back, and with Lemon and the others investigating publicly available documents in Moscow, I was able to ascertain the existence of the secret city, Yamsk-11.”

It seemed that whatever battle had taken place had made it as far as the chemical plant. Sousuke’s eyes landed on a set of silos that had fallen in an unnatural way... Several of them had been uprooted and left dangling precariously, with bits of pipes and girders scattered across the ground far in front of them.

“Please be careful, Sagara-san,” Tessa said. “This plant is ground zero, in a way. It should be physically harmless, and the passage of over seventeen years should have dulled the effects... but it can still scramble the minds of those who approach.”

“Scramble the minds...?” he questioned.

“Yes. A very special experiment took place here long ago... The facility is likely in the basement.” Tessa used her digital map again as she took in a full view of the plant.

“Please be careful, Sagara-san,” Tessa said. “This plant is ground zero, in a way. It should be physically harmless, and the passage of over seventeen years should have dulled the effects... but it can still scramble—”

“W-Wait a minute.” Sousuke cut her off, feeling unsettled for reasons he couldn’t explain.

“What is it?”

“Did you just say the same thing twice?”

“Ahh...” Showing no sign of surprise, Tessa nodded. “You experienced déjà vu just now, didn’t you? This is one of the effects I mentioned. Weber-san and the others were discussing it before we landed. Have you been feeling it, too?”

“Yes.”

“That’s part of the reason I wanted them to keep their distance,” she admitted. “I know it’s unsettling, but I hope you can endure it. As long as you keep your wits about you, you should be able to conduct yourself as normal. The déjà vu becomes more frequent the more you let your mind wander.”

Sousuke felt the sweat rising on his back. How could she be so calm about this? “Um... so you don’t mind it?”

“Yes. We experience it occasionally ourselves. We don’t tell others so as not to make a fuss, and once you get used to it, it stops bothering you. Most people experience mild déjà vu from time to time, don’t they?”

Judging from Tessa’s way of speaking, it probably wasn’t going to happen that often. Still, Sousuke doubted that he’d ever get used to it...

“Let’s go,” she said. “It should be through here.” Tessa watched her step as she entered the plant. “It might be best to keep talking as much as possible. Did you notice the bullet holes?”

“Yes,” he answered. “Rifle shots, machine gun shots, explosions from an RPG... all the signs of a fairly extensive conflict. What in the world could have happened?”

“The experiment, most likely,” Tessa said as she stepped over a fallen pipe on the ground. “I think it was a true calamity, causing everyone in the secret city to go mad. It must have been far more severe than the déjà vu we’re experiencing... Perhaps security forces, in their confusion, began shooting, and things escalated from there,” she speculated. “There are no detailed records, and no witnesses that I could find, so I don’t know for sure. But...” Tessa’s voice cracked, as if she found it difficult to describe the chaos that had taken place here.

What if people who had lost their minds began waging war on each other? It would turn the place into a living hell. Sousuke could imagine some of it, from the traces left behind. “Just what was the experiment?” he asked next.

“The vseobshchaya sfera experiment.”

“Vseobshchaya sfera?”

“In English, ‘omni-sphere.’ This will require a lengthy explanation, but please hear me out,” Tessa requested, then began to explain as she walked. “The omni-sphere is a realm created by the human mind. It’s invisible and intangible, and imperceptible to normal physical sensors. It’s on a completely different plane than the world as we know it. At the same time, the omni-sphere and the physical world mutually influence each other. This is why the human mind, which is otherwise nothing more than a complex chemical computer, can access the omni-sphere... and vice-versa.”

“I’m not sure I understand...”

Tessa couldn’t help but giggle at Sousuke’s confused expression. “I’m sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself,” she told him. “The notion of the omni-sphere goes back to ancient times, though back then, it was treated as a purely metaphysical concept. They spoke of it as the spirit world, or the Greek Theory of Forms. Jung’s collective unconscious is a similar concept, as well.”

Sousuke found himself puzzled as the topic seemed to veer into the realm of the paranormal. It didn’t seem appropriate for Tessa, commander of the world’s most cutting-edge weaponry, to be talking this way. Still, he’d heard the term ‘omni-sphere’ before... The TAROS was the man-machine interface utilized by the de Danaan, the Arbalest, and now the Laevatein, and he’d learned that it was short for “transfer and response omni-sphere.”

“This idea of the ‘world of the mind’ has been described in many forms since antiquity...” Tessa went on. “One scientist believed he could scientifically catalog and manipulate it through the use of quantum mind theory, the study of complex systems, and the development of a massive-scale ALU. His name was Dmitri Valov. For convenience, he named this world ‘omni-sphere,’ or ‘the domain that contains all.’ His writings about the omni-sphere have since been lost to time, but it appears that he was engaged in serious research regarding things like telepathy and precognition in Soviet academies of science through the early 1970s.”

“Telepathy?” asked Sousuke skeptically. “Really?”

“The Philadelphia Experiment, the Area-51 UFOs... You’ve heard those stories, haven’t you? Of course, they’re all quite suspect, but the fact remains that both the American and Soviet governments have experimented with paranormal phenomena in the past,” Tessa said. “Of course, none of these experiments yielded any tangible results, and it’s believed many were pure fabrications designed to request more intelligence or military funding. Similar to the ‘soldiers gone mad in a military experiment’ story told by Gebo-6’s pilot.”

Sousuke nodded, remembering that he’d seen stories like those while watching TV with Kaname and the others during his time in Tokyo.

“But Dr. Valov was different,” Tessa went on. “He was a serious researcher who made real contributions to the fields of nuclear energy, computer engineering, and electronics. For instance, early passive stealth technology is based on theories that he pioneered.”

The footing worsened as they got further into the plant. A staircase meant to lead a half-floor down had rotted away, so Sousuke jumped down first and offered Tessa a hand. Though slow, she was able to jump down safely into his arms.

“Thank you, Sagara-san.”

“Just watch your step,” he warned her. “There’s damage all around us, possibly due to a fire.”

“Of course,” Tessa agreed, pulling out a flashlight and moving further into the plant. “I don’t know how Dr. Valov was able to study the omni-sphere. But somehow, he was able to confirm its existence. He succeeded in a small-scale experiment, and managed to make significant headway before the end of the 1970s. Nowadays, the public documents and journals in which Dr. Valov’s name appears are so sparse that one might assume he’s just another old researcher brought to economic ruin... But he held a great deal of power in the academic world, so it’s more likely that his research was classified by the state. And so, they created this secret city to further enable his research...”

Another sense of déjà vu assaulted Sousuke, who felt like he’d heard this explanation about Dr. Valov several times. He shook his head and asked another question. “Why was his research classified?”

“Because of the omni-sphere’s sheer importance. A world not bound by time or space, through which one’s mind can move freely and access our physical world at will... can you imagine the possibilities?”

“I’m afraid not.” He couldn’t even understand half of what Tessa was talking about, let alone extrapolate from it. Even with the ‘simplified explanation’ she was giving him, this talk of ‘time, space, and mind’ was all too much for a realist like himself to handle.

“It might allow for highly precise precognition, for instance,” Tessa tried to explain. “You could anticipate with perfect accuracy a nuclear missile launch, or the death of a major enemy politician. What will the weather be on the day of an operation? Will there be earthquakes... yes, or a massive solar flare? How much would foreknowledge of impending acts of nature improve your nation’s military situation?”

“I see...”

“It could allow for telepathy, too,” she pointed out. “You could convey massive amounts of information across terrains and distances that would normally be impossible. You could peer into someone’s mind, plant suggestions there, and control them. Why bother waging war when you can just hack into the thoughts of the president of the United States, or his secretary of defense? No superpower could possibly oppose you.”

“There’s no way that’s—”

“Yes, such things are only theoretically possible. Practically speaking, they would come with countless technological hurdles... but the point is, the existence of the omni-sphere takes them out of the realm of pure fiction,” Tessa told him. “It’s only natural they’d want that classified, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“But that’s not all. One thing that proved relatively easy to create was technology that enabled the omni-sphere’s influence on the physical world: a system that converted the user’s imagination into physical power. You’ve seen this in practice.”

“The lambda driver?” Sousuke guessed.

“Yes,” Tessa agreed. “But that name was pure camouflage. ‘Lambda’ indicates repulsion, and thus it’s known as the repulsive drive system, or pseudostring repulsive field generator system... but what it creates isn’t simple repulsion. It’s actually amplifying the paraphysical phenomena that result from influence through the omni-sphere. Its original name was the ‘omni-sphere high-speed chained influence reactor.’”

“Reactor?”

“Yes. Conceptually, it’s a bit like a reactor. Any physical influence on our world from the omni-sphere would typically be extremely faint, a mere few microparticles’ worth of difference. Every day, without realizing it, we all use the omni-sphere to influence the energy and matter around us.”

“You mean... just by thinking, I can move things around me?” Sousuke asked, trying to keep up.

“Yes. Everyone’s doing that, subconsciously, all the time. In a certain sense, all humans are espers—but the effects are so minor that you can’t even measure them, let alone see them,” Tessa explained. “The shame of it is that the omni-sphere resists rigorous testing. One could potentially measure its influence on the physical world in a room completely isolated from external influences... but since humans—chemical and electrical machines that we are—are the ones doing the observation, we’ll always introduce noise into the surroundings we’re attempting to measure...”

“I’m sorry, Colonel,” Sousuke apologized. “I think you’re losing me...”

“Ah... I’m sorry. My point is that everyone is capable of minuscule levels of telekinesis.”

“I see,” Sousuke said, all while thinking that one of the greatest points in Tessa’s favor was her ability to humbly and kindly explain things to those less intellectually gifted than herself.

“The lambda driver then uses a chain reaction to amplify these highly common micro-influences. The human mind and nervous system are like an engine for generating omni-sphere influence, you see... That’s why lambda driver-mounted ASes come equipped with an artificial brain and nervous system, to mimic that function. Then by channeling quantities of electricity through them that are beyond what a human system could ever withstand, you can create exceptionally powerful levels of influence,” she said. “Do you remember when I said that the Arbalest was like an extension of you? That’s the reason I said so. The Arbalest and Laevatein can’t copy your personality wholesale, but they can reflect the way your mind works.”

“Ahh...”

“Have you ever wondered why aircraft, tanks, and warships can’t integrate lambda drivers?”

“I have,” Sousuke admitted. “It seems like it would be much more efficient. But... well... given what you’re saying...”

“That’s right,” Tessa agreed. “The lambda driver needs a simulacrum of the human body to function. Additionally, the omni-sphere’s ability to influence the physical world becomes even more dramatic when integrating a rationally-thinking human catalyst exposed to extreme circumstances. This requires the unparalleled focus of a trained soldier, and an environment that will induce the proper mental state...

“In other words,” she clarified, “combat. Thus, the eligibility requirements for a lambda driver-integrated vehicle are: a high-output engine, the specs to participate in dangerous combat situations and return alive, and a humanoid structure.”

“An AS,” Sousuke specified.

“Yes. The AS is the ideal machine in which to mount a lambda driver,” Tessa said in agreement. “Which leads me to my next question... Don’t you think the existence of the AS is quite strange? We all know that a humanoid shape is an inefficient one for combat, so why do ASes dominate the battlefield? How is it that such an ideal host just happened to already exist?”

Tessa made it sound as if the ASes had been designed and molded purely to house the lambda driver. Sousuke thought back on Kalinin’s words after the escape from North Korea: These things shouldn’t exist.

“But... ASes are very useful in combat,” he insisted. It was true that ASes had weak points that other weapons lacked: they were easy to spot on flat land, and made easy targets when standing upright. Their intricate systems made them difficult to maintain and produce, and they were inferior to tanks both in the size of the firearms they could employ and the protective value of their armor. But they had enough good points to make up for their bad. If they didn’t, nobody would use them.

“Well, it’s a bit of a chicken-and-egg question,” Tessa mused. “So I’m not sure if anyone in the world can say for sure...”

Sousuke looked at her questioningly.

“We’re here,” she announced. They had made it quite far into the plant while they were talking, having long since left behind the orange light streaming in through the girders and pipes. They now came out into an area as large as a great hall, with a gaping hole in the floor in front of them. It was close to fifteen meters in diameter and led deep into the ground, surrounded by cables and pipes and scaffolds for workers, with a sort of sturdy vertical track located across from where Sousuke and Tessa were standing.

It was like a large elevator shaft, but the pallet that would have taken them up and down was probably at the bottom. The hole itself was pitch black, so they couldn’t see how far down it went.

“We’re going down there?” he asked.

“Yes. Our destination is at the bottom of this shaft... deep underground.”

The elevator was almost surely broken, and there was no power in these ruins with which to run it anyway. There was also an unreliable-looking steel scaffolding, stairs, and a ladder, which was red with rust. They’d have to use the stairs and the ladder to get down, he speculated, but the facility had been untouched for almost eighteen years. Things had badly deteriorated in that time, and there was a chance it could all come tumbling down at the slightest touch.

“Wait a minute, Colonel. Could you wait up here?” Sousuke asked.

“What? Why would you say that?”

“It’s going to be a dangerous climb,” he insisted. “I’ll go investigate. You should stay up here and pass on orders.” He’d brought climbing gear, but scaling that hole wouldn’t be easy. He could probably make it on his own, but Tessa had no experience with rappelling, and she was always... well, incredibly clumsy.

Tessa must have been well aware of that, and yet she refused to acquiesce. “I’m sorry, but I need to go this time,” she insisted. “As difficult as it may be, will you please find a way to take me down there?”

“But...”

“I’ll try hard not to burden you too much. We’ll turn back the minute you deem it too dangerous. Please?”

“All right,” Sousuke reluctantly agreed. “But I’ll make the call. Please do as I say, when I say it.”

“I will. Thank you.”

They both put on night vision goggles, tied themselves together, and began their descent into the shaft. The stairs took them the first few floors down, but to go further than that, they’d have to climb down the ladder on the shaft’s inner wall.

“Get on my back,” Sousuke ordered.

“All right.” Tessa did as she was told, and he used the rope to affix her tightly to his own body. Her soft chest pressed against his back in a way that left him feeling a little bit flustered. “Please take care of me, Sagara-san.”

“You almost sound like you’re enjoying this...”

“Just your imagination, I’m sure. But let’s not tell Kaname-san the next time we see her.” She giggled, and the joke filled Sousuke with a sense of nostalgia. He remembered Tessa’s carefree innocence during that brief period in which she had transferred to Jindai High School. She’d teased Kaname and Mao then, and laughed just like this...

He began climbing down the ladder, with Tessa on his back. It was going to be a long trip... He managed to make it carefully down about four floors, with no sign that they were any nearer to the bottom.

That was when he heard the sound of someone calling him on his radio. It was Kurz, who was waiting outside the secret city. The structure of the building and the terrain created terrible static on the line. “Uruz-6 here. Bad news.”

“What’s up?” Sousuke replied.

“Multiple helicopters approaching from the west. Three that I can confirm... Probably hostiles.”

“Dammit,” Kurz cursed from inside his cockpit, as the three helicopters became six. “So many...” The sun was behind them, which had delayed the M9’s passive sensors in sighting them. By the time he’d finally noticed them, they’d gotten within a mere twelve kilometers. They’d be over the secret city in the next three minutes.

To preserve fuel, their two Pave Mare transport helicopters had landed in the mountain forest and shut off their engines. The pilots of the Gebo-4 and Gebo-6, upon receiving the notification from Kurz, activated their APUs and began preparations to start up their engines.

Oh no... Kurz sent out an instinctive warning. “Gebo-4 and 6, engines off!”

“Why not, Uruz-6?”

“They probably have ECS; that’s why we didn’t see them until now,” Kurz told them. “Probably ECCS too, so if you try to take off, they’ll see you right away. Stay put and keep hidden.”

If they took off now, the enemy helicopters, which were on full alert, would be very likely to detect them. The Pave Mares didn’t have much in the way of anti-air weapons, so taking off would be a death sentence.

“But what should we do, then? We can’t just sit around forever,” Gebo-4’s pilot said. But despite his argument, he kept his engine off.

“Just stand by for now,” Kurz ordered. “They’ll be open again once they land. I’ll take the first shot, and you can pick up Tessa and Sousuke while I hold them off.”

“Hmm... okay, fine,” Gebo-4’s captain agreed. “But you’re sure they’re hostiles?”

“If they were Soviet Army, we would’ve seen them much earlier. The only people who’d bring fancy equipment like that to this hole-in-the-ground are—”

“—Amalgam,” the pilot finished. “Shit...”

“They really do seem to be coming out of the woodwork lately,” Kurz agreed. “Like termites.”

Both of the pilots cursed as Kurz shifted his own ECS from radar/infrared stealth mode to pure invisibility. The M9 turned transparent, and the world outside his monitor took on a purple hue.

As the six helicopters continued to approach, Kurz called to Sousuke again. “You got that, Uruz-7? Come back right away. Move to Point Echo on the city’s northeast and hide in the old house there.”

“Uruz-7, roger. But it’ll take me some time.”

“Just hurry.”

Back in the pitch-black shaft, Sousuke tested the sturdiness of his climbing rope and began to climb back to their starting point. “Colonel,” he told Tessa, “we’re heading back.”

“Wait—” Tessa began to say, but stopped herself.

“We need to meet up with Kurz and the others,” Sousuke insisted. “It’s too dangerous here.”

“Yes, I suppose we don’t have a choice...” she said, ruefully.

Whatever lay at the bottom of this shaft was apparently very important, but it wouldn’t mean anything if they didn’t get out of there first. Enemy forces would be there soon, and Sousuke couldn’t protect Tessa by himself. Perhaps realizing that as well, she didn’t try to argue further.

The ladder was badly rusted, falling apart here and there. Some rungs seemed to have trouble holding their weight, which made it impossible for him to climb quickly.

“Hold on tight,” he told her.

“I will.”

Just as he said that, the rung of the ladder he stepped on broke away and fell, noisily. Sousuke immediately grabbed at the handhold to restore his balance, but that broke away, too.

“Eek!” Tessa shrieked as they were cast into the open air. They didn’t fall far, thanks to the rope affixed at the entrance, but they were still left dangling.

“Are you hurt?” Sousuke asked.

“I... I’m all right,” she told him. “I’m sorry.”

“Just hold on.” He pushed off the wall, then used all his might to carefully climb back up the shaft, using the rope. This isn’t good, he thought. It would probably take more than three minutes to complete the climb. They might be fully surrounded by then...

“Landing zone sighted. Shall we set down?” Kalinin asked the transport helicopter’s pilot via intercom.

“Not yet. Wait until we’re done scanning for enemies.”

“Roger.”

Kalinin’s helicopter circled leisurely over the landing spot in the secret city of Yamsk-11 with its four companions. The formation was made up of four Mi-26s and two Mi-24s in total, and he was employing a method for their landing that he’d frequently made use of during his days in Afghanistan.

Three of the transport helicopters holding ASes and infantry would stand by at a safe altitude while one hid in the distant mountains. Meanwhile, the two strong, mobile Hinds would respectively patrol at 500 meters and 1500 meters in the air. Even if guerrillas attacked with anti-air weapons, they’d only get the one in lower altitude before the fierce counterattack began. Then the hidden helicopter could deploy its ground forces instantly, putting extra pressure on their enemy.

“You really are a steady hand, Mr. Kalium,” said Wilhelm Kaspar, the German sniper, over the radio. One of the other transport helicopters was carrying his lambda driver-mounted AS, the Eligore. “But save your sightseeing for another day. I want to get in and out as soon as possible.”

“It’s not sightseeing. Be ready to move out at any time,” Kalinin replied bluntly. His plan, which utilized a combination of ASes, aircraft and attack helicopters working in tandem, was known as ‘the mousetrap’ by Kalinin’s old squadron. The minute the enemy went for the delicious cheese, the spring would go off, and the mouse would be snared. The guerrillas of Afghanistan were known for their fierce fighting, but even they were terrified of this tactic which Kalinin and his comrades had worked out.

The heavy Soviet-made helicopters, the Mi-26 Halo and Mi-24 Hind, had ECS and ECCS functions specially enhanced by Amalgam along with a litany of other sensors. It was easy for them to dazzle the sensors of any conventional military and appear from seemingly out of nowhere, but they weren’t going up against the Soviet military. They were going up against them. Though there was no sign of the enemy at the moment, one couldn’t be too careful when making a landing.

It was then that he heard Leonard Testarossa’s voice over the radio. He was on one of the Halos, accompanied by Chidori Kaname and the French spy. “I respect your caution, Mr. Kalium, but I agree with Kaspar. We should land at once.”

“Could you please tell me why?” Kalinin requested.

“Let’s see... I think we should be feeling the effects rather soon,” said Leonard, in the tone of a mischievous little boy. Kalinin felt like he’d heard him say that same thing before. When was it? Not that long ago. In fact...

“—agree with Kaspar. We should land at once.”

“Could you please tell me—”

A sense of déjà vu washed over him, and he was about to repeat the same words before snapping back to himself.

“You see? This town is unique,” Leonard said. “The aftereffects of the experiment still linger, and if you’re not careful, you’ll lose track of time. That’s fine for passengers like us, but it could be dangerous if it affected one of the pilots.”

Just as Leonard finished speaking, the lower-flying Hind began to veer to the side and came very close to crashing into the chemical plant. It just managed to straighten up and ascend with all its might, but its belly scraped against one of the large silos, sending sparks into the night air.

“You see?” Leonard asked with a sigh.

The Hind pilots began cursing at each other. “You idiot, you almost hit it!”

“I was sure I’d turned to the left... but then I was suddenly back in my original spot—”

“What? What are you talking about? You just said the same—”

They seemed to be experiencing the strange déjà vu, as well.

Kalinin ordered the Hind to gain altitude and move away from the plant, while considering the perfect place for the transport helicopters to land. Outside the city seemed best, he decided. It seemed too dangerous to come any closer...

Just then, Kaspar contacted him. “Do you see the plateau halfway up the mountain three kilometers to the southeast? Fire something there, maybe a rocket.”

“My I ask why?”

“Fire and you’ll see,” Kaspar replied with a nasty laugh.

Kalinin didn’t ask any more questions, and the helicopter pilot did as he was ordered.

Just as Kurz was informing Tessa and Sousuke about the helicopters, an alarm began blaring in the cockpit of his M9.

《Warning. Two o’clock. Multiple unguided rockets. Time to impact: three, two...》

“What the...” Kurz muttered, and made a split-second decision not to dodge. He’d decided there was no way rockets could hit him from that distance.

As he’d expected, most of the rockets exploded some distance away. But one hit a rock wall some thirty meters above his M9, and proceeded to scatter both fire and stone fragments.

Dust and sand from above rained down on the M9, popping softly as it hit. But he remained lying very still on the ground, watching the enemy’s movements through the smoke that wreathed him.

“Did they spot you?” Sousuke asked over the radio. Their two allied helicopters were lying low in the mountain forests.

“Not sure...” Kurz replied. There was no follow-up, though, which suggested that the enemy hadn’t actually seen him. That had just been a test shot; a randomly fired rocket to smoke him out if he was there.

If I just remain still, he thought, I might be able to ride it out... But no, that was wishful thinking. “They’ll find me sooner or later,” Kurz said to Sousuke. “Let’s take the initiative. Gebos 4 and 6, prepare for liftoff!”

Hiding wouldn’t do Kurz any good. In the first place, there had been no reason for the enemy to expect an AS like his to be hiding in the mountains, which meant someone on their team possessed exceptional instincts. And even with ECS invisibility mode running, the abnormalities from the dust pelting his M9 might be visible to the naked eye. It was only a matter of time until they found him.

Master arm, on. The high-precision targeting sensors on his 76mm sniper cannon let out a soft hum. Telescoping anti-air mode. Heat, humidity and wind speed data poured in, and the detailed values displayed on his ballistic calculation unit inched up and down.

“Uruz-6, about that enemy helicopter formation...” Sousuke said. They must have still been in the shaft, because the static was terrible.

“Tell me later,” Kurz replied shortly.

“No, listen,” Sousuke insisted. “It was a tactic frequently employed by the Soviets in Afghanistan. Major Kalinin must be their commander.”

“Damn. That old man...”

Select target. Establish threat priority. Kurz decided he’d start with the Hinds, and pointed his targeting box at the enemy machine designated Mike-3, the higher-circling of the two. The helicopter’s distance and movement speed values wavered in tiny increments, and the words “VALID AIM” appeared on his screen.

Liar, he thought. The calculations are off. The angle is the problem. Instinct took over, accounting for the downdraft of the helicopter blades. Two millis up. One milli left. That should do it... He fired. The muzzle flash briefly whited out his screen.

He knew that the supersonic 76mm shot would take time to hit its target: three seconds, give or take. It was a hit, and the high-caliber round pulverized the enemy Hind on impact. The machine burst impressively, which sent its rotor flying, but Kurz didn’t have time to watch the enemy machine fall. .

“Next up...!” he said jovially. Reloading immediately, he took aim at the second Hind. This one was lower and closer, so he adjusted the ballistics settings. Aim, fire— A hit! He’d blown its tail off.

Losing its torque control, the machine spun wildly, before finally plunging side-first towards a corner of the chemical plant. Having both enemy attack helicopters out of the picture would make it easier for their own helicopters to escape.

“Next up...!” Kurz said again, hoping to thin their numbers one more time. But the enemy would know his location now, and taking aim at the remaining three was proving difficult: one was obscured by the hills beyond the secret city, and another was plunging down from high altitude.

Distant, fast... He couldn’t hit that one. The other was flying low, hidden behind the plant complex, and Kurz decided that one was his best shot.

The rapidly descending helicopter skimmed across the ground and spat an AS out of its already open hatch: it was that improved entry in the Codarl line, its armor painted crimson. Kurz caught a glimpse of a large sniper cannon in its hands.

That red AS... he thought, and felt his heart start to pound. Should I shoot it while it’s landing? he wondered. No, it wasn’t possible... He knew his attacks wouldn’t work on a lambda driver-mounted machine on its guard, but he also knew it would be shooting at him soon.

In a split-second decision, Kurz took aim at the transport helicopter hiding behind the plant complex. The large Halo flitted between silos, water tanks, towers made of winding steel... He anticipated its trajectory and took aim.

Wishing he had more time, but knowing that he had to work with what he had, Kurz fired. The shot pierced the silo, but he couldn’t tell if it had hit its target.

A flash of fire came from the ruins. Here it comes, he thought, rolling over into a supine position, rifle in hand. Then, with a short snap of his machine’s back muscles, he executed a jackknife maneuver. The shot landed, kicking up a plume of dust in the space his M9 had occupied a split-second ago.

Kurz clicked his tongue, righting his posture in order to land on both feet. The next shot came immediately, and he just barely dodged it with a duck. That guy’s aim is damned accurate, he realized. Even with a long-range fire control computer, how could he make such precise shots at this distance?

Shooting like this wasn’t the result of a high-spec machine. It was the skill born of a veteran sniper’s experience and instinct. Kurz was sure now: it was him. “Kaspar...” he whispered.

Kaname was checking on Lemon in the transport helicopter’s cabin when she heard the sounds of a distant explosion. Looking out the port side window, she caught sight of the helicopter that had been circling the ruins just as it was blown to smithereens.

“An explosion?” she wondered. “Ah...!” Their helicopter banked suddenly, almost throwing her to the floor, but she grabbed her chair and managed to stay upright. Fortunately, Lemon was fixed to his stretcher.

They didn’t seem like they were shot down; the pilot must have been dropping them in response to the enemy attack. Below them, the ruins that had seemed so small were rapidly growing larger.

“There’s an enemy AS sniper out there! I’m going to hide behind the north side plant!” the pilot cried over the internal comm.

“No, don’t get close to the plant. Gain altitude,” she heard Leonard in the cargo area respond. His voice was perfectly calm.

“But it’s going to shoot us! They took one out already! From a distance like that... hell, just how good is he?!”

“Taking us up will ensure our safety,” Leonard insisted.

“How can you be so sure?!” the pilot demanded to know. Then he declared, “The hell with this, I’m hiding!” The helicopter turned. Just ahead of them was the great steel tower of the plant; he was hiding from the enemy’s aim.

“Fasten your seat belt, Kaname-san,” Lemon said, face pale, from where he lay trapped on the bed.

“I’m saying this for your own good,” Leonard repeated flatly. “Lowering altitude will put you in greater—”

There was a flash outside the window, accompanied by a strange jolt and sound. The helicopter suddenly tilted, in combination with the terrible noise of warped metals scraping together at high speed.

Kaname wasn’t quite sure what had happened. Did the “enemy” hit us through the building we were hiding behind? she wondered. Was that the sound of us losing the drive shaft on the tail rotor?

The pilot screamed over the internal comm. “But it’s going to shoot us! They took one out already! From a distance like—”

He just said that, thought Kaname. This doesn’t make any sense. The craft rocked wildly and they skidded through the skies over the plant. Their altitude was dropping further.

The pilot and the co-pilot were yelling at each other.

“What are you doing?! Take us higher—”

“The hell with this, I’m hiding!” The pilot stopped suddenly, sounding confused. “Wait, what’s going on? Where’d the damage go?”

“Pull the stick, idiot!”

“Oh God, help me. What’s going on? I thought we took a critical hit!”

“What are you talking about?!”

“How are we still airborne? I thought we crashed!” The man sounded terrified. The helicopter was shaking. The plant was drawing closer. It looked like a tangle of metal vines, looming larger and larger in the darkness.

Suddenly, the rotor snagged on something. She could hear metal tearing overhead, and the sound of something ripping through the air like a banshee’s wail. They were jolted and shaken as the cabin’s lights sparked and went out.

Then they were surrounded by darkness, and Kaname’s body went weightless. She slammed back into her chair, then hovered again. Her headset ripped away from her head, and she heard Lemon scream in pain.

The helicopter was plummeting, tangled up with the plant structure. That was the one thing she could tell for sure. How far are we going to fall? Kaname thought. There’s no guarantee that there’s solid ground so deep in these ruins...

“—ruz-6 here! Engaging enemy AS—” Kurz was reporting the status of the battle over the radio, but Sousuke was in no position to follow the back-and-forth. A helicopter was on the verge of falling right into the shaft they were still trying to climb.

“What in the...” The helicopter showered sparks as it creaked downward through the large, open space above them. It seemed to be tangled up in the pipes and girders of the plant, which acted like ropes, keeping the helicopter suspended... But they were breaking, one by one, under its weight.

Sousuke had maybe ten or twenty seconds before it plunged into the shaft. There was no time to lose.

“We’re going down! Grab on!” he told Tessa, and fixed the remaining slack of the rope to a nearby girder with the carabiner before kicking off of the wall. They didn’t have time to climb out. He’d have to drop swiftly to the bottom and flee into a cross-shaft.

Each kick took them down two floors. One kick, then another... He wished he could drop faster, but to do so was impossible while holding the weight of two people.

There was a crash from above as the helicopter collided with the entrance to the shaft. It sounded as though it had just barely caught on the edge, but was slowly tilting their way.

Shards of machine and plant showered down on them, grazing past Sousuke. A shadow loomed in his night vision scope: a metal fragment the size of a throw pillow was plunging towards them. Planting his legs hard against the wall to brace himself, he tilted his body upwards to protect Tessa and shielded his own head with his left arm.

The metal grazed his arm as it flew past. “Ngh...!” Sousuke forced himself to shake off the pain and return to his descent, kicking off the wall a third time, a fourth.

Tessa simply clung to him with laudable silence.

How far to the ground below? He looked down and saw the ring-shaped bottom approaching: there were three floors remaining. The helicopter fell at just that moment, and sparks filled the shaft as it raced towards them. Sousuke felt like he was inside the barrel of a huge gun with the ravaged machine serving as the bullet.

One more kick... he told himself. Then suddenly, the rope lost its hold; the helicopter’s fall must have dislodged its support.

Sousuke exclaimed wordlessly, and Tessa shrieked. The distance of their fall was about one story, and he just managed to twist his body to avoid crushing Tessa beneath him. Still, his right side hit the floor hard, which expelled the air from his lungs and sent his head spinning.

Sousuke sucked up the pain, removing the rope and straightening up. It’s coming. No time to look up. With Tessa still on his back, he ran for the corridor just ahead. The helicopter’s coming. Almost there. Four steps— three steps—

“Ngh...!” He hurled himself forward, with a blast of wind and an ear-splitting crunch that came from behind them. Sousuke turned back to see the remains of the helicopter blocking the entrance to the corridor.

They’d managed to survive, but they weren’t safe yet—he could smell leaking jet fuel. If the helicopter exploded in this closed-off space, they’d be roasted alive.

Picking himself up from his prone position, Sousuke continued to run through the dark passage. They had to get as far away as possible. “Tessa?!” he called out. There was no response, but he could still feel her breath; unconscious, but at least she was alive. He thought he’d attached her firmly to himself with the rope, but Tessa was starting to slide off his back. He tried to adjust her position, but his left arm—which had been injured by the metal fragment earlier during their descent—was now numb and unresponsive.

As Tessa slid limply off him and hit the floor, the entire corridor suddenly bucked. Sousuke felt the ground give way beneath him as a yawning hole opened at his feet. There’s something below even this basement facility, then... he realized. Was the helicopter’s impact the last straw for an already brittle structure?

He was reaching for Tessa behind him when the floor beneath his feet suddenly gave way, and he let out a shout. His injured arm betrayed him as he sought something to grab onto and, dragging a rusty steel panel with him, Sousuke plunged into the black hole.

When the fall stopped, he was still alive.

“Mm...” Kaname groaned into the darkness. The seat itself had been partly uprooted from the floor and was dangling precariously, causing the seatbelt to dig into her shoulders and hips.

“Is anyone there?” she shouted. “Anyone alive?!” I can smell jet fuel, and the engine is still running, she realized. We have to get out of here, fast!

“Just barely...” Lemon’s voice came from nearby. Kaname removed her seatbelt and, careful not to fall from the almost vertical floor, groped through the darkness to find him.

“Yeek!” he squealed as her hand made contact.

“Ah, sorry. Wait... Yeek!” Realizing exactly where she’d grabbed, she echoed his squeal, and wiped her hand on her clothing hurriedly.

“You don’t have to act quite so disgusted...” Lemon said weakly.

“We have to get out of here.” Kaname quickly began removing the straps that held Lemon to the stretcher.

“Agreed, but I’m not sure if I can walk.”

“You’d better try, if you don’t want to be dead!” Removing Lemon’s restraints, Kaname helped him up. His wounds must feel like torture, because he hissed and moaned through his teeth.

Tracing back her memories as she searched beside her seat, Kaname found an emergency flashlight. Turning it on brought their surroundings at last into view: they seemed to have fallen nose-down. The cabin was still intact, but the fore control room was crushed.

“Where’s the hatch?” she asked.

“Over there,” Lemon told her. “Can you make it?”

“I’ll try,” said Kaname. She could see a hatch next to the partition between the control room and the cabin, which had been warped and partly dislocated from the force of the crash. Climbing down the now vertically-aligned seats, she made it to the hatch. Lemon managed to follow after her, favoring his non-injured leg.

Kaname kicked at the hatch the second she arrived, but the door groaned in protest and refused to yield. She kicked again with all her might. She kicked it so hard her knee began to ache, but it still wouldn’t open.

“Kaname-san, it’s not working,” said Lemon. “We need to find another way out.”

Ignoring Lemon’s warning, she removed a fire extinguisher hanging on the partition. Though taken aback by its weight, Kaname quickly held it up, then smashed it down on the hatch. It still wouldn’t open... But she did feel it budge. Okay, one more time!

“I’m telling you, it’s not working. Let’s find another—”

“Graaah!” Projecting the faces of everyone she hated onto the hatch, she slammed the fire extinguisher down again. There was a clunk of warping metal, and this time it notched open, granting them just enough space for a person to squeeze through. “Okay,” she declared, “let’s go!”

“Impressive...” Lemon muttered.

Kaname peered out through the exit, and the smell of fuel stung her eyes. It could go up like a match at any minute, she realized. There was a concrete wall right in front of her, so she pointed the flashlight down and saw the floor about two meters below. They could probably just climb down from here.

“Okay, let’s go,” Lemon said, when they heard a groan from behind them. They turned and saw a man crumpled on the other side of the cabin. It was one of the soldiers who’d been monitoring Kaname. He looked injured, but he was still alive.

“Let’s go, Kaname-san,” Lemon told her ruthlessly.

“But...”

“He’s the enemy! Come on!”

“No, I can’t,” she told him. “Go down without me.”

“Ah...”

Pushing Lemon out of the helicopter, Kaname ran up to the man. “Can you move? We’re getting out of here!”

“Ugh...” The man seemed hazy, and couldn’t answer her clearly. His leg appeared broken, and he probably couldn’t stand.

“This might hurt, but try to bear it!” Kaname grabbed the man’s collar with both hands and began to pull him forcefully towards the hatch. He was incredibly heavy, but she focused all her might into walking him backwards. Her steps were unsteady and she was panting for breath in no time, but she powered through and kept pulling. “Ah... grahhhh!” Enduring the pain, she heaved the man the last of the way to the exit, then pushed him out through the slit in the hatch.

“Hurry!” Lemon was already on the ground, beckoning from below. With the man’s upper half dangling out of the helicopter, she lifted his bottom half and pushed—

“Wagh!” Lemon cried as the man landed on top of him.

“Let’s go!” shouted Kaname, quickly exiting the helicopter to clamor down the various protrusions that served as footholds. She and Lemon (who was dragging his injured leg) each supported the injured soldier on one side as they slid through the space between the helicopter and the wall. Soon enough they came to a cross-shaft, sized roughly for a single truck to pass through.

“I wonder what this tunnel’s for...” Lemon mused.

“Who cares?” said Kaname. “Let’s go!” They stumbled into the tunnel as fast as they could manage, but the walls around them were crumbling—perhaps set off by the crash—and panels in the ceiling creaked unsteadily.

Kaname and the others went a few dozen meters down the tunnel before they heard a roar behind them; the helicopter’s remains had caught fire.

“My leg...” Lemon moaned. “I can’t walk any farther.”

“No! You have to try!”

Covered in rust, an old wreck of a truck sat on one side of the tunnel, its tires rotted away. Kaname wrung out the last of her strength to pull Lemon and the man behind it.

Will we be safe enough here? she wondered, just as the explosion happened. Dual waves of heat and force burst out from the helicopter’s remains, showering the tunnel in metal fragments.

Bits of aluminum alloy stabbed into the remnants of the truck like blades as the air around them turned as hot as a sauna. All Kaname could do was hunch over, hold her breath, and try to bear it. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she could feel sweat rising up on her back.

She remained perfectly still for ten seconds or so. Then, timidly, she opened her eyes and gasped for air. Are we out of oxygen? she wondered. It feels hard to breathe... But the difficulty lasted only for a moment. There must be a source of fresh air nearby. Remaining on hands and knees so as not to breathe in the smoke, she coughed, shoulders heaving.

“Lemon-san, you okay?” she asked.

“I think so...” Lemon replied weakly. “But I think I’m starting to understand why Sousuke-kun fell for you...”

“Huh? How come?”

“You’ve got impressive drive. It’s honestly a little intimidating...” He laughed, weakly.

After finally reaching a place of comfort again, Kaname thought back on what she’d just done. None of it felt all that strange, but... “I guess it has been a while since I did this kind of thing.”

“Huh?”

“Really taking action,” she clarified. “I guess being with him was really stifling.” She spat on the ground and picked herself up.

Leonard’s Belial hung in the air as he watched the helicopter from which he’d just escaped go crashing its way down into the chemical plant’s basement. He could have kept it from falling. He could have dived into the shaft and pulled it back out. He could have also torn the cabin open in order to save Chidori Kaname alone.

But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d just used his high-resolution infrared sensors to monitor the wreck at the bottom of the shaft, looking on as she and the Frenchman escaped into the underground facility. How heartwarming! he mentally applauded. She’s even saving a wounded soldier to whom she has no obligation whatsoever...

The helicopter exploded just moments afterward, but she would be fine. Leonard was sure of that much. Yes, she was surely fine.

“The M9 that sniped at us seems to have withdrawn,” reported Wilhelm Kaspar, who had disembarked in the Eligore and traded fire with the enemy. “I found traces of the Pave Mare that brought him in, but they’ve already escaped, as well. We should remain on full alert.”

“Roger. Our infantry are disembarking now. We’ll lock down the town,” Kalinin responded.

“Then I’ll leave it in your hands,” Leonard acknowledged. “I’m going down.”

“To the plant’s underground facility? By yourself?”

“Yes. I’m going to investigate it myself. Chidori Kaname and the Frenchman have escaped underground.”

“I’m sending soldiers now,” Kalinin told him. “Is that all right?”

“As you wish,” Leonard said succinctly, and then cut off the transmission. Hovering his machine up to compare the data he’d received with the actual scene around him, he considered the spatial relationship between his current location and the underground facility. Then he dropped again, and entered the elevator shaft in the plant’s central area.

The helicopter was still burning at the bottom of the hole, like a cremation oven in full blaze. The flame and smoke bent away from the Belial as it approached. As he got closer, an invisible power pushed the air aside, crushing the burnt remains and quelling the fire before his eyes. Heat, smoke, fire, and metal... all of them yielded to Leonard’s approach.

The Belial planted its feet silently at the bottom of the shaft. “Now...” he said, squatting his machine down and opening the cockpit hatch.

Kurz and the Pave Mare crews retreated to the very edge of radio range with Tessa and Sousuke—the mountains about ten kilometers east—to discuss their next moves. They’d taken off their camouflage and distributed disposable vibration sensors around the area, so there should be no more threat from that red AS for a while.

“Any word from Sousuke?” asked Kurz, climbing down from his dust-coated M9. He walked up to the Pave Mare, which had parked in the middle of the forest, in order to speak with the pilot who came out of the back hatch.

This was an Italian man named Salvio, the pilot of the Gebo-4. “None,” he replied. “No idea if they’re even alive. If we contact them too frequently, even encrypted, we might tip the enemy off to our location.”

“What about the de Danaan?” Kurz asked.

“I got them up to speed, but they’re on the other side of the world,” said Silvio. “They’ll be slow to send reinforcements, and Mao and Clouseau are busy with jobs of their own.”

“Damn. We’re in deep, huh?”

“At least we got away,” Salvio said philosophically. “Things could be worse.”

The pilot of the Gebo-6, an American named Lieutenant Fischer, came by to toss a bottle of mineral water at Kurz. He caught it effortlessly, removing his headgear to dump the water over his head. Despite the chilly air, he felt like his head was on fire.

“The enemy doesn’t know we’ve left two of ours behind, either. And those ruins are like a maze,” Lieutenant Fischer pointed out. “If Sousuke and Tessa can hide and lay low, they won’t be found that easily. And the colonel said they only needed a few hours to do what they came to do. If those guys are after the same thing, maybe we can wait this out overnight?”

“Doubtful,” Kurz said, then drank down the rest of the bottle’s contents. Salvio and Fischer were lieutenants, but didn’t seem ready to pull rank on ‘Master Sergeant’ Kurz. They were all about the same age, and they’d been doing drop missions together for two years now. With all that plus Mithril’s hierarchy in tatters, there was no point in obsessing over rank. At times like these, they were going to respect the judgment of Kurz, who had more live combat experience.

“The enemy has probably seen signs of Sousuke and Tessa disembarking,” Kurz said thoughtfully. “Hard not to leave tracks in a deserted town like that, even if you’re careful. They’ll be able to tell that one experienced soldier and one clumsy girl entered the plant.”

“You really think so?” Fischer questioned.

“The major’s with them, remember?” The people of the de Danaan still referred to Kalinin as ‘the major.’ It wasn’t out of lingering regret; they simply hadn’t adjusted their habits. “And... he’s with them, too.”

“He? He who?”

“My old teacher,” Kurz said darkly. “You know the name Wilhelm Kaspar?”

“Yeah... sounds familiar,” said Fischer. “I think I saw a few articles about him in trade magazines a while back... German, right?”

“Yeah, from a long line of snipers. His uncle killed a ton of Allied soldiers in World War II, and earned himself the Knight’s Cross. His grandfather had a long career in Indochina and Africa,” Kurz told them. “But Wilhelm himself... between the Soviet Civil War, Lebanon, and Tajikistan, he’s killed over a hundred men. He’s former East German Army, but went mercenary after the whole reunification mess.”

“A real master, huh?” Salvio observed.

“More like a monster. You know the world record for sniping in a live combat situation? It’s 2500 meters,” Kurz told them. “A US Navy sergeant pulled it off in Tajikistan against an Iraqi officer. He did it with a .50-caliber anti-materiel rifle with a modern ballistic tracker device and almost no wind.”

“That’s pretty impressive,” said Fischer. “Olympic-class.”

“It’s good, sure, but the equipment did a lot of the work, and he had to fire a few times before one landed. Kaspar’s record is 1520 meters. That’s a thousand meters off that world record, yeah... but he did it with a wooden .30-caliber, at night, in the pouring rain, with a 33-mile-per-hour crosswind. And he did it in one shot.”

“Uh... is that harder?’

“Way harder. A .30-caliber is lighter and produces less muzzle energy than a .50. Plus, awful weather throws a monkey wrench into attempts to calculate ballistic arcs. It’s like hitting a hole-in-one in a hurricane. Most people in the business would say it’s bullshit if I told them he made that shot,” Kurz said, expression dark. “But I saw it. I was right next to him, acting as his spotter.”

The scene from that night replayed in his mind: A city in ruin. Neglected fires turning the sky the color of blood. The rain soaking through everything. The trees along the street, swaying in the wind. Artillery fire from the Israeli army sounding off in the distance...

They had been in a dilapidated Western-style mansion, and Kaspar was aiming at their target through a large hole in the wall. 1520 meters... That was the distance from the mansion on the hill—the closest place with an appropriate view—to the entrance to the city hotel where the target was staying. If they wanted to snipe him from outside the enemy’s region of control, it would have to be from here.

The target was a militia leader. His meeting would soon end, and he’d leave the hotel. He’d be in the open for only five seconds before disappearing into the bulletproof limousine waiting out front.

1520 meters. Even for a master sniper, in these conditions, it was like the other end of the universe. A completely other dimension. An area no one could reach.

Ridiculous. There’s no way he’ll hit him, Kurz had told himself. Out loud, he’d snarked, “Let’s just get back to camp and I’ll buy you a drink.”

Kaspar hadn’t responded. He didn’t even seem to have heard Kurz. Seemingly welded to his gun and wet from the rain, he was lying face-down on the floor with his right eye planted to his scope. His breath was exceedingly quiet. They weren’t far from the Mediterranean Sea, and the air was cold and humid. For some reason, the white of the man’s breath stood out in Kurz’s memory.

There was movement in the lobby, and Kurz let him know the target would be out soon. “The buck is on the way”—That’s what their squad had called their targets. Kaspar probably heard him, but didn’t respond. Answering would have forced him to move his jaw, and moving his jaw would throw off his aim.

The trees on the road were swaying as the hotel door opened. A bodyguard came out. Of course, he didn’t notice them, and the “buck”— a bearded man of just over fifty—followed soon after, with the collar on his thin coat raised.

The target walked out to his waiting car. There’s no way he’ll hit him, Kurz thought, even then.

Kaspar fired. It was hard to describe what happened in the instant in which he pulled the trigger; it would be no exaggeration to say that the air around him had seemed to warp, coalescing onto a single point. At least, that was how it seemed to Kurz. The act of acquiring infinite focus had called something invisible to him.

They referred to it as “the spirit,” although it wasn’t some kind of divine intervention. All of the parts involved—eyes, brain, finger, trigger, blaster, cartridge, barrel, rifling, muzzle, and bullet—remained subject to the laws of physics. There was no room for God or ghosts to interfere.

Throughout a sniper’s career of tens of thousands of shots, you took notes every time, learned from mistakes, packed the powder, added it to the cartridge, and shaved down the bullet yourself. Through failures in all kinds of weather, conditions, distances, and angles, you calculated and recalculated, tried again, calculated and recalculated. Through that repetition, one acquired skill. Mystical aid was irrelevant. Everything had to function like a well-oiled machine in order to send a bullet to the calculated destination.

But in that moment, something really had interfered, and Kurz didn’t know how to describe it as anything other than a spirit. In that instant, a spirit descended. He felt its presence arrive, then saw the spark at the end of the gun, and at last, heard the shot reach his ear.

1520 meters. It was unthinkable. But he’s going to make it—Kurz thought at last, in the wake of the spirit’s arrival. Of course, he hadn’t seen the bullet flying through the rain and wind. But two seconds after Kaspar fired, he saw blood misting out of the target’s head, droplets flying amidst the rain.

The shocked bodyguards screamed something, pushing the headless target’s body into the backseat before driving off.

Kaspar had patted the dumbstruck Kurz on the shoulder. “Let’s go,” he’d said plainly, with no sense of satisfaction or pride in his own skill.

They’d left the mansion and headed back to camp, and while they were walking through the rain, Kurz expressed breathless wonder about the accomplishment.

“Don’t try that one, boy,” Wilhelm Kaspar said as he stopped and turned back. There was something lonely in his eyes. “You couldn’t do it.”

And in fact, Kurz had never once tried to make that shot. A week later, certain events had caused Kurz to leave Kaspar’s squadron with bitter feelings.

“That was four years ago in Lebanon,” Kurz finished. He hadn’t told the pilots the details of the story; he’d just taken a few seconds to remember the scene for himself. “I couldn’t make a shot like that. Experience and instinct... it goes way beyond that. He’s got something... something decisive that I lack.”

“Will, determination, that kind of thing?” Salvio asked.

“I wish I knew,” Kurz answered. “I don’t understand it very well myself... Of course, it’s not like I don’t have natural talent. I only first picked up a rifle five or six years ago, see.”

“You never mentioned that before.”

“Not like I was hiding it. I started as a volunteer soldier in the Middle East, and after a few misadventures, I got recruited by Kaspar’s squad. That’s where I learned.”

“Wow,” Salvio remarked. “What was the squad?”

“It didn’t have a name. It was just ‘Kaspar’s Squad.’ We were a gang of snipers who went all around the world taking jobs, and... well, I guess it’s like a modern version of Bailey’s South African Sharpshooters,” Kurz mused.

“What’s that? Bailey’s...?”

“It was an old mercenary group. But never mind that. The point is... I don’t think I can beat that guy.”

Of course, there was more to battle than pure firing skill. If your viable range was a hundred meters less than the enemy’s, you got a hundred meters closer—simple as that. One could also employ bluffs, feints, tricks, flanking, and all kinds of tricks to land a killshot. Battle was complex. Yet even taking all that into account, Kurz was sure he couldn’t beat Kaspar.

“But we’ve left the colonel and Sousuke there,” Fischer protested. “We can’t just abandon them.”

“Yeah, I know...” Kurz was about to sigh, but stopped himself in time. It wasn’t good to sigh around allies who were already nervous. “Well, it’ll work out somehow,” he decided. “Let’s just wait for our chance.”

“What kind of chance?” Salvio asked.

“Either we re-establish contact, or we see signs they’re leaving,” Kurz explained. “Then we’ll set up a diversion and run to their rescue.”

Standing up, he returned to his M9, where he opened a small impact-resistant container for small arms under the cockpit hatch and pulled out a carefully wrapped rifle. Returning to the ground, he opened the bundle and gazed silently at the rifle within.

The AS battle will just be a prelude. Your turn might be coming soon, he thought. It was a bolt action rifle with a dull luster, old and unrefined, with wooden portions that had blackened from frequent handling. The thick barrel was blue-black, with granular white flecks from the Teflon enhancement. Attached to the top, the rifle’s 36x scope was long and thick enough to resemble a second barrel. These simple qualities gave it the beauty of a work of art.

The rifle had been made by Winchester about fifty years ago, and boasted precision equal to that of most cutting-edge sniper rifles. It had clearly been loved and cared for by every past owner. This “rifle to end all rifles” felt like too much for a young man with less than five years of experience; Wilhelm Kaspar was more worthy of a gun like this.

1520 meters, Kurz thought. With this gun, I might just be able to do it.

It was clear that the man whom Kaname had pulled from danger was injured, and badly so; this was a black man in his 30s, well-muscled, if not exceptionally tall. Had he been in perfect health, this soldier would have easily been able to restrain both Kaname and Lemon without much effort.

“His right leg is broken, and there’s a gash down his right side,” said Lemon, after a quick examination of the man’s wounds. “Also, I think he hit his head... though I don’t know how bad it is.”

“Will he pull through?” Kaname questioned.

“I’m not sure. He might, if he gets treatment right away, but... I’m afraid I don’t have a first aid kit,” Lemon said regretfully. “Probably best if we don’t move him.”

“I see...”

The man, who seemed to have regained consciousness, let out a low, hazy moan.

“Hey, talk to us,” Kaname said. “What’s your name?”

“Brown.”

“Brown-san,” she continued, “the helicopter crashed, but we saved you before it exploded. Sorry to say, the others in there are probably all dead. We want to give you first aid, but we don’t have any tools or medicine. Are you with me?”

The man nodded weakly, and breathed an affirmative.

“I think your people should be coming soon,” Kaname told him. “You understand our position, right? We’re gonna have to run away and leave you here. I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t... leave...” The injuries must have made Brown timid, as he shakily tried to grab her arm.

Enemy or not, Kaname felt guilty for having to refuse him. She gently took the man’s hand and wiped his face with a handkerchief. “I’m sorry. Here, take this and try to stay warm,” she said, removing her red down jacket to lay it across the man’s shoulders. “Good luck.” Then turning away from him, she asked, “Lemon-san, can you walk? I’ll lend you my shoulder.”

“Yeah, I’ll try... ow, ow...”

“Let’s go.”

The two of them began to stagger off, leaving the man behind. They walked straight down the passage until they hit a dead end, caused by a ceiling that had collapsed with the passage of time. They retraced their steps for a while and took a different path at a fork.

“Are you cold?” Kaname asked.

“I’m okay,” Lemon told her. “You’re the one who gave your coat to that man...”

“I’m just being self-righteous, is that it?” she said with a scowl.

“That’s not what I meant,” Lemon replied quickly. “I just... don’t understand. You seem like a smart girl, so you have to realize how dangerous that was.”

“What do you mean?”

“Saving that Brown guy means he can tell his allies we survived and got away,” Lemon pointed out. “If not for that, they’d have assumed we burned to death with the rest of the crew. There’s no way we’ll make it out now.”

“Ah...” Kaname suddenly stopped.

“What?”

“N... Nothing. Let’s just hurry.”

Lemon blinked in surprise. “Wait, did you not realize that? You did all that without even thinking?” He was right on the money. Kaname truly hadn’t thought that far. She’d basically been acting on autopilot. “Wow, I was right. You really weren’t thinking...”

“W-Was too!” she said defensively. “I was thinking, but I still just couldn’t let him die!”

“Hmm... Well, I won’t argue the point.”

“And you could’ve said something earlier if you were so worried!”

“Yeah, thought so,” Lemon said with a chuckle.

“Ugh...” Kaname did feel embarrassed, but another feeling had struck her even more deeply. Awakening as a Whispered had led her to a rapid increase in intelligence, and her knowledge of certain fields had increased to genius level, and yet...

Wow, I can’t believe how badly I screwed that up. Why did that thought bring her such a feeling of relief? It means I’m still me, she realized. I still make mistakes. I can still save people. I haven’t really changed...

But Lemon’s next words brought that euphoria crashing down. “That’s not what I meant,” he tried to explain. “I just... don’t understand. You seem like a smart girl, so you must realize how da... huh? I mean, I don’t think it’s self-righteous... huh?”

“What are you talking about?” Kaname asked in confusion.

Lemon stopped, put his fingertips to his forehead, and groaned. He looked really sick.

Kaname was also seized by a curious feeling. I’ve seen Lemon act disoriented like this several times before, she thought. Or is this the first time? Oh, of course...

“déjà vu, right?” Kaname whispered soberly. She’d been through this time and again herself. déjà vu wasn’t an uncommon phenomenon, and she’d thought she was used to it by now... but since entering these ruins, she’d felt she was experiencing it much more frequently. She hadn’t counted how often, precisely, but there was definitely something strange going on here.

What in the world is it? she wondered. Is it connected to the omni-sphere? Yes, it has to be... The déjà vu was a sign of its influence growing stronger. The harmless “reverberations” she felt from time to time in daily life were now affecting the otherwise normal Lemon, as well. She remembered the strange words of the helicopter pilot just before they crashed... That had most likely been the same thing.

Is there another Whispered nearby, she thought next, aside from me and Leonard? She was sure Leonard had boarded his AS, the Belial, in the helicopter’s cargo hold before the crash. He wasn’t about to let something like that kill him, so he was probably still somewhere in these ruins. A Whispered out there, using an amplifier like a TAROS... could he be creating these “reverberations,” like some kind of localized jamming field?

No... It’s more than that. She knew this facility contained something far more dangerous. She’d been feeling a sensation separate from the déjà vu... A feeling of someone whispering into her head, every time danger came near.

“Kaname-san?” Lemon’s voice snapped her back to reality.

She shook her head. “Ah, sorry. Everything okay?”

“Um... you mean with him?”

“Huh?”

The next thing she knew, she was in front of the black man she’d saved from the helicopter again. They were back by the wreckage of the truck they’d taken shelter behind initially. Lemon spoke, looking at the man’s injuries.

“His right leg is broken. There’s a gash down his right side. I think he hit his head... though I don’t know how bad it is.”

“Will he pull through?” she asked Lemon after tracing back the conversation in her memory. Ah, I’m so sick of this...

“I’m not sure. He might, if he gets treatment right away, but—”

She listened to the same explanation as before, explained their situation to Brown, wiped his face, gave him her down jacket, offered Lemon a shoulder and left. Lemon pointed out her mistake, she got annoyed and denied it, and he laughed in response.

“Lemon-san.”

“What is it?”

“We’re going to be experiencing a lot of déjà vu here, so try to keep your wits about you,” Kaname told him. “I think something in this facility is the cause.”

“Okay. Got it,” Lemon said, shaking his head.

“That was easy,” she observed. “You’re not going to ask how I know?”

“I already know at least a little bit about what this place was built for. Wraith and I were the ones who found it, after all.” He’d told her in the helicopter that Leonard had captured him while he was on a mission with Wraith. He’d said that Wraith had fled, and no one knew where she was now. But he hadn’t told her what they’d been investigating in Moscow, since they weren’t alone at the time.

“You found this place?”

“At Testarossa’s request,” he confirmed. “She’d been theorizing the existence of a top secret city like this, but she didn’t know where it was. This facility was built in the late 70s to do experiments on iffy stuff, like telepathy and precognition. Our research in Moscow told us it was spearheaded by Dr. Valov—a truly brilliant scientist—as a major project for the state.”

“Dr. Valov...” Kaname echoed.

“I didn’t entirely believe it, but now I think I’m starting to,” Lemon admitted. “Amalgam wouldn’t have captured and interrogated me if there was no truth to the story, and they certainly wouldn’t be here now. And... like you said, we really are experiencing this weird sense of déjà vu. I don’t know exactly how it works, of course... But this place seems dangerous as hell.”

“I don’t think we were shot down earlier, either,” Kaname informed him. “I think the pilot got disoriented.”

“Yeah. If so, whoever it was that shot at us... They almost killed us, too.”

Kaname remembered the conversation in the helicopter:

“AS sniper.”

“From a distance like that.”

Someone who’d be attacking Amalgam... Could the one shooting at us have been Kurz Weber? she wondered. He wouldn’t have had any way to know that she’d been in that helicopter. If Kurz and the others were close by, that could be their ticket out of here.

And not only that, she realized. It’s possible that Sousuke is somewhere out there as well... But to Lemon, all she said was, “For now, let’s just try to find an exit.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I’m curious about the mysteries this place holds... but now’s not really the time.”

“Right.”

Having reached that decision, they continued down the pitch-black hallway. They went on instinct at each fork in the road, first going right and then left. The occasional dead ends and closed steel doors made the place truly feel like a maze.

There were no maps of the facility on the walls, and the label plates had long since corroded and fallen uselessly to the floor. The occasional area displays they saw simply read things like, “507” and “394,” numbers that meant nothing to them. They weren’t even sure what floor they were on.

“Sheesh. We’re totally lost...” Lemon whispered, leaning up against the wall as they found another corridor blocked off by a collapsed ceiling. He hadn’t brought it up, but the wound in his leg must have been aching by now. His face, in the light of her flashlight, was paler than before.

“No, we’re not,” she told him. “We can still go back the way we came if we have to.”

“You remember it?”

“I think so. I’m drawing a map in my head.” I never would have been able to do this in the past, Kaname thought. But aloud, she just said, “Let’s try that way.”

Five minutes of wandering later, Lemon seemed to notice something. He stopped short and seized Kaname’s arm.

“What is it?” she questioned.

“Hush! Someone’s coming. Kill the light,” he hissed, drawing a pistol from his belt. She wanted to ask where he got it, but didn’t. He’d probably swiped it from Brown while assessing his injuries.

Kaname turned off the flashlight, and Lemon took it from her. They hid behind a nearby fallen locker in time to hear a single set of footsteps sounding out in the distance. Someone was approaching, slowly, past the bend of an intersection further down the corridor.

They don’t seem to have a light, Kaname observed. Do they have night vision goggles on? As the two held their breath and waited, the person stopped at the corner. They couldn’t see them in the dark, but they could tell from the sound alone.

Lemon turned on the flashlight and pointed it at the person, along with his gun. “Don’t move!”

The person covered their night-vision goggles with an arm and hunched over in surprise. It was a petite girl dressed in shorts, a flight jacket, and hiking boots far too bulky for her skinny legs. Her ash blonde hair was done up in a neat braid.

“Ah...” The girl pulled off her night vision goggles and squinted into the flashlight’s beam.

“Tessa...?” Kaname cried out. “Is that you, Tessa?!”

“That voice... Kaname-san?” asked Tessa, in surprise.

“Yes. But what are you doing—”

“Kaname-san!” Before she could finish, Tessa had made it down the hallway and thrown her arms around the other girl. She didn’t even seem to have noticed the surprised Lemon. “Oh, I’m so glad... I was so worried about you,” Tessa gushed. “Is it really you, Kaname-san?”

“O-Of course it is! Ah... Tessa, don’t cry,” Kaname begged. “C’mon...”

“I’m sorry, but I’m just so glad you’re safe. So glad...”

“Yeah. It’s good to see you, too. It’s been a while, huh...?”

Tessa cried for a while, her face buried in Kaname’s chest. Kaname really was happy to see her too, but it would be a while before she could get over her shock long enough to appreciate it.