by Shouji Gatou
“Approaching land now,” Dunnigan said. “Time to cut the jets.”
“Yeah, I hear you...” Mao replied. The pump-jets on their backpacks died down, and the flow of tiny bubbles ceased. Instead, they used the AS-sized flippers attached to the M9s’ feet to proceed onward at a depth of five meters.
Dunnigan’s swimming technique was so perfect, it was hard to believe he’d come out of a land fighting force. She’d heard he had plenty of live combat experience; that he’d been through several dangerous missions during his time in the Army; that he’d earned multiple Purple Hearts and Bronze Stars. He was the polar opposite of Mao, who’d been dishonorably discharged from the Marines without a single notable accomplishment to her name.
That wasn’t the reason, but she and Dunnigan weren’t especially close. He’d come to them from Mithril’s South Atlantic Battle Group, the Neimheadh, only two months prior, and while she knew he was a skilled combatant, she still didn’t know much about him as a person.
As they got to within a mile of the island, Dunnigan began grumbling. “Such a crock of shit...”
“What is?” she asked.
“This dumbass mission. Sending us out into the back end of nowhere... Couldn’t they get someone else?”
Mao groaned. “Stop complaining. No one can handle this stuff but us.”
“Who even gives a rat’s ass? What are the bombs gonna do if they go off? I mean, other than wiping out the piss-poor locals...”
Mao couldn’t believe her ears. “Dunnigan?”
“Hey, I’m just joking around. Don’t take it so personal, Chinese,” he said with a chuckle.
Mao responded, voice firm, unwilling to just let it go. “That’s not something to joke about while we’re on a mission. And my name isn’t ‘Chinese.’ It’s Melissa Mao.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he chuckled. “Well, unclench already. I’ll do my job. You can count on it.”
“I certainly hope so...” she muttered.
Once they were in the vicinity of the island, the two machines let the current carry them to the western shore. Thanks to HF sonar and GPS data, they immediately found their destination: the sunken tunnel.
Its entrance was blocked by crumbled concrete and rocks; there wasn’t even enough space for a person to slip through. Fortunately, such an obstacle was no match for an M9, and at night, with the waves high, there was no risk of the enemy catching them at work. The greater risk, in fact, was the possibility of an enemy trap.
If it was clear the enemy already knew about this route, they’d have to call off the operation. They’d back off and withdraw, and warn their other allies to return in secret. They’d have to scrap their existing plan and figure out another way to go about it.
An outside observer might find this idea agonizing, but it was better than trying to ram an unworkable plan though—A typical special operation was a much more mundane, patient endeavor than what was typically depicted in the movies. Fortunately, it didn’t seem that would be necessary this time.
Mao used the full range of her M9’s sensors to scan for danger, slowly and carefully, but found no sign of traps or surveillance in the tunnel.
“We’re good to go?” Dunnigan asked.
“Affirmative,” Mao responded. “I’m positive we’re safe.”
“In we go, then. C’mon.”
The two machines pushed the rocks aside and entered the tunnel. They couldn’t keep up radio contact while underground, so they left a wired relay device at the tunnel entrance.
The sniper team consisted of Kurz and Corporal Nguyen. Nguyen came out of the Vietnamese Army; he had long experience in jungle warfare and considerable skills in knife combat. He also knew a lot about AS firearms, both Eastern and Western. He had a lean frame and olive skin, and despite his hollow cheeks and somewhat sickly appearance, he wasn’t someone you wanted to cross; his affinity for knives had made him as sharp-eyed as a hawk.
Nguyen, like Dunnigan, had transferred to the squad two months ago. They hadn’t run too many operations together, but he seemed like a reliable workhorse type; he also had a sense of humor.
“Uruz-6 here,” Kurz said. “We’re almost to the sniper point. Time to set depth to zero.”
“Yeah, I see it. Just make sure your ass doesn’t stick out of the water,” Nguyen responded, and adjusted his M9’s position.
The sniper team had arrived in the sea four kilometers west of Berildaob Island. It was shallow there, with a water depth of only four meters—enough that an M9 could stand with its upper torso out of the water. It was from here that they’d pick off the enemy ASes and anti-aircraft artillery around the occupied base. The American M6s couldn’t be effective at this range, but the M9s had the equipment and fire control systems to make it possible.
“Got any PFZs in mind?” Nguyen asked, inquiring about their attack targets.
“Nah, why bother?” Kurz shrugged. “I’ll shoot the guys on the right, you shoot the guys on the left. Simple, right?”
“You sure about that?” Nguyen checked again.
“Sure, I’m sure.”
The two began their preparations. Kurz’s machine staked out a position 100 meters away from Nguyen’s then opened the weapons container it had been carrying. Kurz would be using a 76mm sniper cannon; it was about as powerful as you could get, as far as stand-alone AS artillery went. It was also tops for accuracy and came with independent optical and self-diagnostic sensors, as well as a trajectory calculation computer.
Nguyen’s machine came armed with an eight-round surface-to-surface missile launcher. It fired a modified version of the Hellfire air-to-surface missiles that were frequently used by combat helicopters. They were precise, powerful, and used smokeless rocket motors that made them harder for the enemy to spot.
“Here’s hoping the infiltration team can handle this...” Kurz whispered.
Nguyen snorted on the other end of the line. “If they screw up, I’m out of here. They’re not paying me enough to have a shootout in a gas cloud.”
“No kidding,” Kurz laughed.
Nguyen continued his grumbling. “Mithril’s got great equipment and they pay well, but I hate all the niggling crap that comes with their missions. Guarding hostages, watching for chemical weapons... the whole thing gives me an ulcer. You get what I’m saying?”
“Eh, if running out guns blazing was all the job took, they wouldn’t pay us the big bucks.” The delicate demands of their missions was what justified their equipment and salaries. Even Kurz, with all his constant complaints, knew that much.
“But Kurz, we’re mercenaries. Killers for hire. Fighting our client’s enemies is one thing, but risking our lives for all this other stuff... it’s kind of a violation of contract, isn’t it?”
“Is it? I never read the contract.”
Nguyen groaned. “Are you kidding me? We might be in a rotten business, but it’s still a business, y’know?”
“I just don’t see how it’s that big a deal.”
“Fine, forget it. If I decide it’s not worth it, I’ll just find a new job.”
“Find a new job, huh?” Kurz responded absently. He was too worried about Sousuke to pay much mind to Nguyen’s idle talk. That AS... the Arbalest. He’d been wondering for a while why the operator had to be Sousuke, when both McAllen and Mao seemed like a better fit. Protecting Kaname, operating prototypes... wasn’t it a little cruel, putting all that responsibility onto one kid’s shoulders?
He’s wound up tight enough as it is... Kurz was well aware of Sousuke’s innate earnestness, and his sense of responsibility. He honestly liked that about him (though he’d never, ever admit it). But was it possible those traits could play against him in this case?
Well, no big... Kurz reassured himself. If that “Venom” thing showed its face, his sniper cannon would have some things to say about it. Even if the 76mm rounds didn’t land a decisive blow, he could at least make it easier for Sousuke to do his thing. Under the water, Kurz waited for the battle to
start.
Sousuke and Captain McAllen were serving as the strike team. The second Mao and Dunnigan disabled the bombs, Kurz and Nguyen would kick off their long-range attacks. Sousuke and McAllen would rush onto land at top speed and sweep through what was left, while Mao’s team came up from the storehouse to assist. Once the AS battle began in earnest, the de Danaan would surface; helicopters full of infantry would take off, then fly in to occupy the base. That was the plan in a nutshell.
Sousuke’s Arbalest and McAllen’s M9 were already within 600 meters of the beach. This was far closer than a gas turbine-powered M6 could get unnoticed, but even their highly advanced machines would be spotted by the enemy if the water got any shallower. While the de Danaan could use its ECS even when surfaced, the M9s and the Arbalest had to be fully out of the water to use theirs.
The Arbalest poked its head above water to get a read on the current state of the island; the night vision mode employed by its dual sensors showed Sousuke a base surrounded by a fence. Illuminated by bright lights, it was a squat structure that openly bore the scars of the battle it had just been through.
Sousuke remained silent. He could see one of the enemy’s anti-aircraft artillery: a turret with two machine cannons mounted on tank treads. The Arbalest’s AI ran an automatic analysis and displayed detailed information on the weapon.
It was a 2S6M Tunguska, a self-propelled surface-to-air cannon made in the USSR. Despite the “surface-to-air” label, it was also a tremendous threat to ASes—it would shower them with 30mm shells the minute it realized they were there.
There was also an enemy AS walking toward the beach in front of the base on patrol. It cast a searchlight over the ocean, coming and going repeatedly over certain places. The AS was one of the French-made Mistral IIs described in the briefing: a squat humanoid form with no head, and its main sensors mounted in the crotch. The Mistral IIs had superior armor to the Soviet Rk-92 Savages and greater firing precision. Mithril’s machines might be more advanced, but Mistrals were nothing to sneeze at if you encountered them in large numbers.
Sousuke knew that there had to be more than those two machines, but the buildings and terrain produced natural blind spots that prevented him from tracking their locations. He saw no sign of that AS—the Venom—either.
On the beach, he could see the abandoned husk of a burnt-out AS; it was one of the American Dark Bushnells. It stretched one arm up toward the night sky, while its body was twisted, as if in agony. It was tragic to think of those men in their second-generation M6s coming ashore, unaware that within minutes, they’d be up against an opponent that could outfight even cutting-edge M9s.
An hour passed. Dawn came. The underground infiltration team should have disabled the bombs by now, but there was no visible change in the base.
The Venom was still nowhere to be seen. Was it undergoing maintenance in the hangar? Was it hiding somewhere, cloaked with its ECS? Or... was it under the ocean, creeping toward them right now? What if it had ambushed Mao’s team? What if it was attacking Kurz’s? These unfounded questions flitted in and out of Sousuke’s mind. He felt like a nervous wreck.
“Sergeant Sagara,” came a call from the M9 beside him; McAllen’s.
“Sir?”
“I’ve been taking part in AS operations for nine years now.”
Sousuke waited curiously.
“So... you know. I’ve seen good machines and bad ones. And from what I’ve seen, that’s a pretty good machine you’re in right now. Just put in your usual effort, and you’ll be fine. This is business as usual. Got it?” Maybe McAllen was trying to show concern. He always seemed like such a nagging, stuffy man, but that, too, came from a strong sense of responsibility as a commander in the field.
“Yes, Captain, sir.” But despite his acknowledgment, Sousuke couldn’t fully purge from his mind the image of that mauled M6, lapped by the waves.
Not long after, he heard a muffled explosion from the direction of the base; it sounded like it had come from under the storehouse. For a second, he thought that the bombs attached to the chemical weapons had gone off... but that wasn’t it; it was smaller in scale. Black smoke began to rise from the building’s entrance, and the enemy soldiers on patrol began shouting to each other.
It’s begun... Sousuke flipped the voice command switch on his stick. “Al. Power level to military.”
《Roger. GPL, military. Output increasing. 20... 30...》The machine’s AI, Al, spoke to him in a deep male voice. The generator’s output, which he’d been keeping at minimum, began to slowly rise.
“Uruz-2 here! We’ve taken out the detonators! I repeat, we’ve taken out the detonators! Proceeding above ground now!” Mao’s report put an end to their communications blackout. They must have successfully disarmed the bombs.
“Uruz-6, ready to roll any time.”
“Uruz-10, what he said.” These reports came from Kurz and Nguyen of the sniper team.
《60... 70... 80...》The generator’s power surged through the body of the Arbalest. Sparks of electricity crackled from the joints with a pale blue glow. Its electromagnetic muscles creaked and its body trembled.《90... 95... 100!》
Time to go. Sousuke took in a deep breath, and then—
“Uruz-1 to all units. Hunting season is open. Attack!”
“Roger.” Sousuke pulled the throttle trigger on his left stick as hard as he could. The aquatic pack’s pump-jets burst to maximum output. A geyser erupted behind him, as if from an explosion. The force of it jolted his body. His machine burst to the surface, kicking up plumes of water as it streaked toward land.
Accelerate. Accelerate. The knots reading on his speedometer continued to rise, and the machine vibrated wildly. The Arbalest skated closer to the beach, tearing through the waves. 150 meters. 100 meters...
The patrolling Mistral II noticed and took aim with its rifle. Object on course. Straight ahead. Unable to dodge, he thought. Silently, he set the Arbalest’s head-mounted machine guns to full automatic; he poured on 12.7mm rounds at a rate of a hundred per second. They sparked off the enemy machine’s durable armor, but it still hunched over, reflexively, to shield its sensors. The act bought him a few seconds; it was more than enough.
The Arbalest hit the beach at full speed and leaped low across the ground. Sand went flying as it rolled, carried by momentum to slam straight into the opposing machine. There was a powerful crash, and the Arbalest and the Mistral II collapsed in a tangle of mechanical limbs.
The enemy machine quickly sat up and thrust its monomolecular cutter bayonet at the Arbalest, but the Arbalest had already pressed a shot cannon into its side; it fired. The point-blank 57mm shell sent the Mistral II flying back, nearly bisected at the waist. Oil sprayed from the wound for just a second before it hit the ground, spitting fire.
That’s one... That first kill reawakened Sousuke’s soldier’s instincts.
There were more explosions coming from the base—Kurz’s sniping and Nguyen’s missiles. McAllen had also successfully made landfall; he used an anti-tank dagger to take out the artillery then pulled a carbine from his back and went on the hunt.
Sousuke righted his machine immediately and ejected the aquatic pack clasped over his machine’s torso. The explosive bolts activated and broke it in two. He leaped the Arbalest at a newly-arrived Mistral II.
Aim. Fire. Dodge. Search. Aim again.
That’s right. This is my body. It’s just like always. Nothing has changed.
Fight. Defeat. Destroy.
Cut. Strike. Slice. Burn. Crush.
It’s so easy... Sousuke realized. The Venom was nothing; just another mission objective, no matter what name they gave it. His job was to destroy it by any means necessary. Forget about protecting others, he reminded himself. That’s all that matters.
He would lodge his teeth into the Venom’s windpipe until the breathing stopped. Come out and face me...
Same Timeframe, 30 Meter Depth, Central Control Room, Tuatha de Danaan
“It�
�s started. M9 ADMs are signaling that hostilities have begun!” the combat intelligence officer said, with a hint of nerves.
“All of them?” Tessa asked from the captain’s chair.
“Affirmative, ma’am.”
“Then it’s time to surface,” she decided. “Raise all ECS masts; MBT to standard blow.”
Mardukas balked at that order. It wasn’t the mention of ECS masts that gave him pause; those were the devices used to cloak the de Danaan from enemy radar while it was surfaced, so their use was entirely expected. It was the mention of “standard blow” that shocked him.
When a submarine surfaced, to gain buoyancy, it had to set the MBT—the main ballast tanks—to blow. There were several ways to do that; the de Danaan had a special method called “silent blow” that took more time, but let them maintain a lower profile to ships around them. Conversely, standard blow let them surface quickly, but the rapid expulsion of water generated noise, which made them easier to detect.
“What’s the matter, Mardukas-san?” Tessa inquired.
“Standard... blow? You’re certain, ma’am?”
“We have little time to lose.”
“Ma’am,” he said after a pause. “Forgive me. Prepare to surface!” Mardukas pressed the switch for the diving alarm, and a synthetic siren sound blared out all over the ship.
At the same time, the mother AI’s voice rang out.《Surface! Surface! Surface!》
“Standard low pressure blow!”
“Standard low pressure blow, aye. Initiate low pressure blow, all MBT!”
“Raise all ECS masts! Activate electromagnetic camouflage!”
“ECS masts, aye! First, rising! Second, rising! Third...”
《Surface! Surface! Surface!》
“Flight control room, helicopter squads. Start engines!”
“Gebo 3, 4, 5, 6! Start engines!” All at once, the transport helicopters in the hangar began to rev up their multi-thousand horsepower turboshaft engines.
Wreathed in foam, the giant boat began to raise its bow. The floor trembled with a low rumble. The submarine had had enough of holding its breath; it was now letting out a roar.