Chapter 4: Damage Assessment
Inside the violently shaking cockpit, the voices of Mao and the AI, as well as the sounds of numerous alarms, were flying around in disarray.
<Damage report. Class B damage to right thigh area. Activated ADC (Automated Damage Control System) and AML (Active Motion Limitation System)>
“Cancel AML.”
<Roger. AML off. Waiving protection of the damaged area>
“How much longer will it last?”
<Question. The specific area has->
“I meant the damaged area.”
<Estimated between 45 and 160 seconds. Recommend immediate suspension of battle maneuvers>
“There’s no time.”
The 30mm bullets that the enemy had shot into the right leg of Mao’s AS had damaged the muscle package of the thigh and part of the shock absorption system. The muscle package, just as the name implied, was the muscles of the AS. With conductive shape memory plastic twisted into coils of fiber, the joints could be maneuvered with the flexibility of the human body.
The “muscle” of the right leg was starting to tear due to the damage and the load it had to carry. The micro fibers were being torn off one by one, and eventually the entire thing would fracture all at once. If that happened, this machine wouldn’t even be able to walk in front of the enemy. The bundle of muscle that the right femur was gradually losing- this was Mao’s only lifeline right now.
The machine’s AI was suggesting prioritizing protecting the damaged area, but Mao turned it down. Other than abusing the almost-broken right femur, there was no other way of hiding from the enemy’s attacks.
<I recommend immediate withdrawal from the battle area>
“Run away? Hah, where in the world would I go-”
<Missile alert. Four o’clock, distance four, three missiles>
A remarkably loud alarm rang out. Three smokeless missiles were approaching from Behemoth A, which was nearing the beach.
“Kuh!!”
The M9 stopped suddenly from a full-out sprint, throwing up a cloud of earth and dust as it skidded across the scorched earth on its left foot. There was a violent impact. She felt as if her internal organs were about to rush out of her body. The missiles altered their course a little; they were headed straight for the M9’s head. She fired the head-mounted machine gun at full-auto.
Because they were caseless rounds, there wasn’t a cartridge. She issued forth a barrage of depleted uranium bullets. One missile blew up. The seeker portion of another missile was blown off, and it lost its guidance system.
The last missile had made it that far, so she had no choice but to evade. After a sharp step to the right, the machine, using all of its power, jumped in the opposite direction. The damaged right leg gave out a scream as it was further burdened. The missile barely damaged Mao’s machine as it hit the surface.
The duration of the flight was short. Mao’s M9 plunged into smoke, tracing a low parabola, and leapt towards the burning jungle. She wanted to land on her legs, but she was worried about the damaged area. Twisting the AS, she landed by rolling forward on the left arm. The 10-ton machine mowed down all kinds of trees
as it rolled over, and Mao blacked out from the merciless shock and gyration.
But there wasn’t any time to rest. The same alarm hit her ears again.
<Missile alert. Eleven o’clock. Distance three, three missiles>
Three more missiles were approaching. And Behemoth A was also firing its machine gun.
And the crisis continues. Behemoth fires three missiles. The violent shock runs at Mao's machine.
It wasn’t even giving her any time to stop and attack. She jumped up as she rolled along the ground, setting off again, exchanging fire with the enemy. The “muscles” in the right thigh, despite the fact that they were already tearing, had gone strange. She left the irregular, random maneuvers to the computer. It was a flat contest between it and the enemy’s motion prediction
programs. It kept after the running M9, barraging the AS’s surroundings with countless shells.
The three missiles drew nearer. She attacked as she ran, which messed up her alignment, and she barely managed to destroy one of them. While her ECS was functioning at its highest capacity, she jumped back. The veil of pale light left a trail. She changed the electromagnetic camouflage system to stealth, and the two remaining missiles lost their target.
The missiles exploded. It was a narrow escape. Looking as if it were falling on its backside, Mao’s M9 sank down to the earth.
“Uh...”
But the crisis wasn’t over. Behemoth A was aiming at her even now. If she didn’t move soon, she would end up like a beehive. She got up using the jackknife maneuver, and tried to jump yet again.
But she couldn’t. Her AS didn’t have the power.
Using the power-hungry ECS and performing battle maneuvers at the same time had momentarily emptied the condenser power. It would need ten seconds to charge back up.
Also, the muscle package in the right thigh had finally broken. She could no longer even stand up.
Damn it.
She cursed as she crawled. Mao’s cornered M9 could only move away on its back through the mud.
She had nothing left. She had used up all of the weapons she could control remotely by using the ITCC-5. Now that the Behemoth had reached land, the self-propulsion mines were useless. The land mines buried along the beach had long ago been blown up by the persistent bombing.
Raising the only weapon she had left- a 40mm rifle, over her head, she shot on full auto. It was no good. It just wasn’t effective. Everything was deflected.
The giant Behemoth loomed closer like a mountain.
The enormous silhouette blotted out the sky. Its armor was dripping large amounts of ocean water. It was an overwhelming, completely overwhelming, violent image.
The Behemoth pointed its huge gun at Mao’s machine, and was soon dissuaded. It probably perceived it as a waste of ammunition. It calmly proceeded on without change, raising its right foot over the struggling M9.
It was planning to crush the M9 all at once. Slaughter the AS like a human soldier.
This is it, huh? Shit.
Facing a hopeless death, Mao was curiously relieved to find awakening within her more chagrin than dread, more of an inexhaustible fighting spirit than desperation. She was proud that she didn’t let out a shameful scream of terror. The life she had led from the Marines to her current one as a soldier wasn’t a waste- so she believed. At the very least, she thought, I wasn’t the kind of “girl” the guys would laugh at behind my back. I was able to prove it.
Viscid mud and ocean water rained down incessantly from the sole of the foot, which was almost the size of a tennis court, all over Mao’s M9. She couldn’t see the sky at all. There was no escape. Just the sole of the enemy’s foot, which had now become an enormous press machine, was all that filled her vision.
Impact.
In a moment, the M9’s armor would be crushed, flattening the cockpit, turning the pilot into mush. Would there even be time to feel any pain-
No.
She shut her eyes tight, but the moment she prepared for never came.
Her AS was being carried by another M9, riding fast across the ground. She soon understood. It was Lieutenant Castero’s AS. He had rescued her machine at the last moment from the Behemoth’s foot, which had been coming down like a hammer. At the same time, shots had been fired in the vicinity of the Behemoth’s head, and had scattered in all directions. It was Kurz’s AS sniping at it. It couldn’t see where he was shooting from.
Kurz and the rest of them had taken care of one Behemoth, and had somehow come to her rescue-
“Are you alive, Mao?” Castero’s voice rang out over the radio. His M9, which was reflected on her screen, was in terrible shape. The head was half-destroyed, the shoulder armor had been blown off, and the left arm was missing below the wrist. Their speed of movement was discouraging, due to him carrying Mao’s mostly immobile M9.
“No Lieutenant, any second now-”
Despite Kurz’s support, the angry Behemoth started to spray them with its machine gun. He took evasive maneuvers, but couldn’t avoid it. A number of 30mm bullets scored direct hits, knocking off pieces of armor plating. Castero’s AS lost its balance, and the two machines tangled up as they went tumbling.
“U...!”
Kurz persistently fired as Behemoth A moved in for the kill. He was far from mortally wounding it, but to the enemy, it was probably a fairly annoying attack. The Behemoth let out a roar, and pointed the howitzer it was holding at Kurz.
The barrel of that huge gun-
The bullets fired from Kurz’s gun plunged into it.
It was a miraculous shot, exactly like threading a needle. Sparks flew. The barrel warped, the shell deep within the mechanism detonated, and there was a large explosion in the Behemoth’s hand. It staggered around, dropping the gun. Numerous trees were crushed as the howitzer landed on the ground of Merida Island, along with a thunderous crash.
“Heh, I got ‘em again. Damn simpletons...” Kurz said, his voice full of contempt.
But despite being deprived of its main weapon, Behemoth A still had a very powerful machine gun. Kurz was at his limit for covering the others.
Castero’s machine could still move, so using all of his power, he tossed Mao’s AS behind a nearby rock, then jumped away as soon as he turned around.
“I’ll lure him off. Abandon your unit and run to the base.”
“Don’t do it or-”
“That’s an order, Lieutenant!”*1
And without leaving any room for argument, Castero’s battered AS went to face the Behemoth alone.
♦ ♦ ♦
They should have assigned us to our enemies the other way around-
Clouseau gritted his teeth as he moved his M9 left and right in his attempt to draw in Behemoth C. This rocky area had considerably more places to hide than the area on the north coast where Mao had fought. His machine still had power, ammunition, and he still had the ability to think.
He was fit to give aid to Mao and the others, but he would be no help. He had his hands full with this enemy, who was
noticing that Clouseau was by himself. The bluff was almost at an end.
Far off in the distance, he could see ten-odd large enemy helicopters landing one by one on the western shore of the island. Now that the defense systems were destroyed, there was no chance of stopping them.
Clouseau adjusted his grip on his controller.
“Move ZA-3 into parallel position. Fire-at-will at Behemoth C.”
<Roger>
An unmanned M6 waiting on standby in a rocky area 800 meters away- his last one, began firing super-high speed missiles at the Behemoth. The enemy’s attention was diverted, and
Clouseau’s M9, Falke, quickly jumped from its hiding place, firing its rifle as it ran at full speed.
He then received a transmission from Lieutenant Commander Kalinin at the command center.
“This is Headquarters to Uruz 1. About how much longer can you distract Behemoth C?”
“Five minutes at the most.”
“...Understood. When you can no longer hold him off, return to base. There is hand-to-hand combat going through the cellars.”
“They might use BC weapons.”
If they pumped chemical weapons like Sarin or Tabun into the underground base, they would have no trouble gaining total control of all of the officers. This enemy hadn’t shown any compassion for humanity with anything they had done up to now.
“I know. If they take away the air-conditioning facilities in area C3, it’s all over. We are gathering all of our fighting potential. Concentrate on your opponent for now.”
“Roger.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Destroyed. Shot down. Emergency landing. Serious damage. Fires breaking out. Minor injuries. Serious injuries. Critical condition. Dead. MIA. Contact impossible.
Tessa, as the commanding officer, was carpet bombed by such reports as these. Whenever she received a report, she would give instructions without any change in expression, then rearrange everything around in her head.
Even when she heard that Spake was dead, she quickly assessed the loss of “one M9” and “one skilled pilot”, revised the fighting power they still had, then, based on that, reworked the situation and counter-measures she expected from then on.
That was really all she thought about when it came to his death.
The much bigger loss that went along with that, though- his spiteful talk, cynical smiling face, the way he had been standing to attention with all his heart in the end- the reality that he wouldn’t be coming back again was something that she kept completely locked from her face.
“Captain-” Kalinin reported.
The enemy’s landing force had arrived on the island’s west coast ten minutes later than she had anticipated, thanks to the destruction of Behemoth B. Although it was one out of three, it must have been very detrimental to the enemy. Those ten minutes, along with the emotional damage, were very precious resources in the current situation.
It would be another ten minutes before the landing force could penetrate underground; thirty minutes at most if they were
held up by traps. The base’s ground troops could put up a good fight, but how long could they hold out? And how much loss would come of it?
“Captain-” reported Mardukas, who was supervising the maintenance in the underground dock.
He said that it would be two and a half hours until the attack submarine Tuatha De Danaan would be completely ready to put out to sea.
The biggest problem was the reloading work on the palladium reactor’s fuel pellet, which was the power source of the ship. It was possible to give up on this, but- if they did leave without finishing, the ship would only last a few weeks until it would no longer be able to move. If they got caught in a bad situation, then it might be even less. The palladium reactor was different from the usual nuclear reactors used in warships, which could operate without supplies for more than ten years, in that it had “run out of fuel”. If they completed the reloading work that was taking place right now, the de Danaan would be able to stay submerged for up to eight months (if you left out the food for the crew, that is).
But the palladium reactor wasn’t the only problem. If they went out to sea without completing repairs to the compressors which controlled the compressed air essential to the ship’s controls, they would make potentially lethal noise under certain conditions. And there was still about a 40 percent chance of loading all sorts of supplies, including food.
It would be two and a half hours until the de Danaan was at least in proper condition.
That’s what Mardukas was telling her. If they finished normal operations, they definitely wouldn’t be able to shorten it anymore than that.
Two and a half hours.
Could they hold out that long?
It’s impossible.
Drowning men have no time to worry about the coast they crawl up on. She quickly gave Mardukas instructions.
“Stop reloading the reactor, and stop repairs on the compressor. Transfer the remaining crew to inspecting for water leaks.”
“...so that’s all we can do. Understood.”
There was a bitter edge in Mardukas’ voice over the phone, but it didn’t seem that he had any objections.
Probably overhearing the orders Tessa had given, Kalinin looked at her.
“Captain?”
“We won’t last that long, will we? For two and a half hours, I mean.”
Kalinin was silent for a moment, then said “Unfortunately, no.”
It was strange.
Most people probably wouldn’t have noticed, but Kalinin was acting differently than usual today. It wasn’t that his orders or directions were strange. No matter how you looked at it, his command was nothing more than quick and accurate.
But something wasn’t right.
Was it shock?
It might be. But a veteran officer formerly of the Russian Special Forces like him had probably passed through many scenes of even more horrific carnage. The situation right now was also pretty horrific, but she didn’t believe that was the reason he was disturbed. This man, someone who had been schooled in adversity, was possessed of a cool-head as well as a steel will that separated
him from ordinary people- he especially shouldn’t have been upset at a time like this.
When Tessa looked at him, he appeared to be-
Hesitant.
Yes, hesitant. For Kalinin, there appeared to be something, an even bigger dilemma, an even bigger proposition that was weighing on his mind. Something beyond even the problems currently confronting this base.
It was as if he were watching something in the distant past, while staring into an ashen future at the same time.
“Lieutenant Commander...?”
“Excuse me, Captain. We must do what we can, but-”
Just then, they received a communication from Kurz, who was in the middle of battle.
“Uruz 6 to Headquarters. I’m currently fighting Behemoth A-” There was no trace of the energy or vitality that was usually in his voice. “Behemoth A’s main weapons are just about useless. The Howitzer’s been destroyed, and it seems the Avenger*2 is just about out. As for other missiles and stuff, as far as I can confirm, there doesn’t seem to be any left. However...”
This should have been good news, but his voice sounded stricken and destitute. Before they could ask why, Kurz said, “However, Uruz 3 was destroyed. That old fart Castero is dead. He took a lot of 30mm bullets from point-blank range, and was smashed to pieces in the hands of the Behemoth. I can confirm it.”
“...Headquarters, roger that. Good work, and return to base,” Kalinin said.
“No. I can see the enemy landing party. I don’t have much ammunition left, but- after I’ve stopped them the best I can, I’ll return to base.”
“That won’t be necessary. Hurry back.”
“Thank you, Tessa. But, well, I want to try and hold out a little longer. If I don’t, then...”
Kurz gave a sigh over the radio.
“If I don’t, then I won’t be able to face them, you see? I also don’t know what’s happened to Mao, so... well, take care.”
“Weber!?”
And before Tessa could stop him, Kurz cut the transmission.
♦ ♦ ♦
A helicopter traversed the chilly Tokyo skies.
The information captured by the Arbalest’s dual sensors showed that the helicopter belonged to the police department. Four kilometers west there was a helicopter belonging to a newspaper. He could hear the sirens of police cars in the distance. Also- infrared sensors, which could see long distances that couldn’t be seen with the naked eye, told him that transport helicopters carrying the ASes of the ground self-defense forces were on standby while they flew their normal routes.
Right now western Tokyo was in a grand scale panic, shaken by unidentified fighting.
Everything was because of the mess he and the enemy had created. But the city appeared to be carefree despite all of this. It was different from Kabul or Beirut. Most people, despite their anxiety, were going on with life as usual.
But that wasn’t right. That wasn’t it.
The school was different.
Sousuke piloted the Arbalest, jumping from building to building, cautiously taking a route that led to Jindai High School. Even more than before, he had no intention of giving up this machine.
He moved the Arbalest to the closed factory in Sengawa at eleven o’clock, then put in on standby with the hatch open-
That was the agreement he had made with the enemy over the phone, but Sousuke had no intention of honoring his promise. The other side probably wouldn’t, either. They probably would use every means available to be sure to overpower him. Torture, drugs, lie detectors. After that, who knew what.
What Sousuke had gained with that agreement was time.
He had at least been able to stop the enemy’s reckless violence until eleven o’clock. That much was very important. Of course, they were probably aware of that, too. It wasn’t a sense of honor keeping them from pressing the button to blow everything up. They wanted the time to make preparations to seize that one person. Now that the police and media were all over the place, it had become even harder to move around than before. Sousuke had the power to take out two or three patrol cars, but not enough to take out fifty.
He had to quickly give up on the idea of having the Arbalest try to find the bombs. When he had tried some reconnaissance from a distance, just as Kaname had bitterly remarked, it seemed the enemy had cast a heavy net. Optical sensors, infrared sensors, ultra-broadband radars. And of course, human surveillance.
Even though he was using ECS, if Sousuke had come near, he would have been detected.
He couldn’t use the Arbalest to find the bombs.
The AS.
What if...
After he had moved to the roof of an office building one kilometer north of the school and carefully scanned his surroundings with the passive sensors, Sousuke said, “Al.”
<Yes, Sergeant>
“If you were on full autopilot mode, what’s the shortest amount of time it would take you to get from here to Jindai High School?”
<About 40 seconds>
“And after you had gotten there, how long could you run the anti-aircraft ECM (Electronic Counter Measures) at full-power?”
<This is approximating depending on the situation, but around 150 seconds>
“...”
After Sousuke did some simple calculations in his head, he pressed the button to open the cockpit hatch. He took a submachine gun, handheld radio, and digital map from the rack on the other side, then nimbly got out of the AS.
“Maintain ECS. Keep watch on standby in Mode 4. Come as soon as I call you. The coordinates are-”
He read off the display of the digital map, denoting coordinates and several establishments.
<Roger. Closing hatch>
The Arbalest’s chest area slid, and the hatch closed with a “clang”. When Sousuke started to turn his back on the still transparent machine and make his way toward the roof’s exit, Al called after him.
<Sergeant>
“What is it?”
<Please don’t leave me here like this>
Sousuke raised an eyebrow at Al’s strange words.
“I said ‘I’ll call you later’, didn’t I? I’m not leaving you. You’re on standby.”
<Roger>
“Why did you say such a thing?”
<Because I have a feeling>
“A feeling?”
<A feeling that we will be parted>
♦ ♦ ♦
Mao, who had abandoned her machine and escaped carrying a submachine gun in one hand as she ran through the burning jungle, knew nothing of the loss of her ally.
Her entire body was soaking wet, as well as caked in mud.
But she ran. Somehow she would make it to the base. That was the only thing she could do right now.
Although it was a solitary island in the distant seas, Merida Island was quite vast, about as wide as the heart of Tokyo. And there was little terrain that an injured pilot could pass through unhindered.
She jumped over the roots of a huge tree, then plunged into a small river. Choking on the thick smoke, she plowed through the muddy water.
Overhead there were the sounds of jet helicopters. They were not the Pave Mares of her allies. They were transport helicopters; more than likely, it was the sound of Super Stallions.
Were they looking for her?
No, they weren’t. The enemy’s objective was to take control of the base. They didn’t have the time to worry about a single person like her. She climbed up the bank of the river, cut through the grass, and trying to brush aside ivy that wrapped around her, tried to aim for southeast.
But she didn’t even know that direction. It was a pitiful thing, but she couldn’t get her bearings without a compass in this jungle, which was almost like a backyard to her.
And there was also this bushfire.
It was hard to breathe. Her entire body hurt. If she encountered the enemy in this state, she would die.
Spraining her knee had become a habit ever since she injured it long ago- and escaping from the damaged AS earlier had done it again. Every step she took was torture.
Where’s the base? I need ammunition.
I can still fight.
In a daze, she stumbled along an animal trail, where she met a white tiger.
It had a very supple body. The design was beautiful, as if it had been drawn with India ink on rice paper, without leaving a single spot or stain. The figure floated there dimly from across the smoke-filled forest.
Is this a hallucination?
She thought as she rubbed her eyes. But when she did, the tiger jumped easily, disappearing into the windward direction. The retreating figure seemed to be saying “Follow me” to Mao.
“Damn...”
She gritted her teeth, and clinging to the nearby brush, set off after the phantom.
♦ ♦ ♦
He would probably not be able to get close until the last moment.
However, it would be almost impossible to sneak into the school under the strict surveillance by the enemy. Maybe if it were
before or after school, but right now everyone was in class. A person approaching the hushed school building would be conspicuous to anyone.
So trying that step was out.
So, how would he find all of the explosives that the enemy had hidden? Bombs arranged here and there all over the school. There were a number of valid locations. He didn’t know how many in all, or how to accurately find them.
And it wasn’t as if there was such a way to do it in the first place.
No matter how much time he had, he would only be able to disable one bomb by himself.
He wouldn’t be able to dismantle all of them at once.
Unless-
Sousuke, who had made it to the corner of the shopping district several hundred meters from the school, ran to a telephone booth. He opened Kaname’s cell phone, found the appropriate number in her address book, then quickly dialed it on the pay phone.
“The number you have dialed is temporarily unavailable. Please try again later.”
That’s right. They were in the middle of class over there. Even so, Sousuke tried again.
“The number you have dialed is temporarily-”
It was the same. He hung up and tried again. The electronic voice patiently repeated its message. The tone of it was almost irritating.
“The number you have dialed is-”
“...hello?”
Finally, he had reached him. It was the calm, deep voice of a man.
“Sir, I have a favor to ask,” Sousuke said without any sort of greeting, and after just a short moment, the other person- Hayashimizu, said, “There’s trouble, isn’t there?”
“Yes.”
“Understood. What do you want me to do?” he replied without asking for details of any kind. Sousuke swallowed once, then explained what he wanted.
“That’s a lot to ask. I could get suspended.”
“It’s necessary.”
“It’s okay, I was just joking. I’d be glad to.”
“Thank you.”
“It’s not a problem. But-”
Hayashimizu gave a small sigh.
“-this means goodbye, doesn’t it?”
“...more than likely.”
“I see. Take care, then. ...I enjoyed these past ten months with you. I really did.”
“So did I. It was fun.”
“Please go ahead and tell her to take care for me. And that I will help in any way I can.”
“I will.”
“Good luck.”
He hung up, leaving the monotonous sound of the dial tone ringing in the receiver.
♦ ♦ ♦
That man- Kurama, didn’t find any considerable meaning or significance in blowing up one ordinary school.
He was a large man. He had short-cropped hair, grey stubble, and was wearing small, round glasses.
Kurama was a mercenary. He wasn’t particular about battle tactics, but that didn’t mean he went in for easy-going cruelty, or swung the other way towards humanism.
He would do anything that needed to be done.
That was all.
And Kurama’s experience, along with his own feelings, said unanimously:
There’s no need for mercy. Blow it up.
Dealing with vague correspondence was, in and of itself, inviting trouble later on. Any kind of word could function as an agreement. Beyond intimidation, if you couldn’t practice it, there was no point.
But that wasn’t all. For Kurama, who had lost a number of his subordinates due to Sousuke’s resistance, there was a right to retribution. No- at the very least, that’s what he himself thought.
After considering everything like that...
Kurama felt no concern at all with pushing to button to blow it up.
That was fine.
That man should suffer more.
That was the extent of Kurama’s feelings.
“Has the white AS shown up?” he asked one of his subordinates, who was waiting at the closed factory, over the radio. The man gave a little groan.
“No, not yet.”
“Understood.”
He quietly took the safety off of the detonator switch he held in his hand. Once they received the electromagnetic waves that corresponded to the code oscillating from this device, the bombs hidden in eight areas around the school would blow up at the same time.
Just a push of the thumb. Then it would be finished.
After that, he didn’t know.
Fight, kill. Just like always. There was no hesitation.
Just then, a member of the surveillance team entered. “The fire alarms are going off in the school,” he said.
That was probably Sousuke Sagara’s handiwork. He had recruited someone inside the school to sound the alarm.
But- if he did, how could this kind of evacuation be useful? How long did he think that more than a thousand high school students, who only practiced fire drills once a year, would take until they were completely evacuated from the building? Even though this was the only switch.
A microphone stopped the commotion. Shrill bells reverberated throughout the area. Then there was a broadcast inside the school, to further pound the issue.
“Testing, testing. This is the student council,” the person said in a calm voice. “A serious situation has broken out in the north school building. The current student council aide- yes, just as you thought, him- some chemical weapons that he had brought with him have leaked due to an unfortunate accident. Please evacuate to the schoolyard within 100 seconds. If you are even a little bit late, you will die. Please hurry.”
Chemical weapons? That was ridiculous. A story like that wouldn’t work in a normal high school, would it? Saying “There’s a fire” would be much more rational.
Sousuke Sagara. Was this your strategy?
Kurama redoubled his grip on the detonator switch along with his disappointment. The indecision had probably lasted about five seconds. After a small sigh, he pressed the button. The bombs should have blown up immediately.
But they didn’t.
Two times, three times. There was no response.
It was because the wireless signal that should have reached the bombs did not.
Meanwhile, the students continued the evacuation, and not at a normal speed. It was a mad dash like there was no tomorrow. Every one of the students he could see from his binoculars had a look of desperation. This was strange.
“What’s going on!?”
“There’s an extremely powerful electromagnetic disturbance coming from point D.”
The surveillance point up on the roof of an apartment building in the north side was watching for the AS’s approach. That white AS, outrageously, was kneeling there. It had cancelled its ECS, exposing its magnificent figure. Why hadn’t the guards- although, they had probably been overpowered by now- noticed the AS approaching?
No, that could wait. That white AS had suspended its ECS, and was pouring all of its power into creating the electromagnetic disturbance. It shouldn’t be able to hold out for long, though. Probably two minutes at the most.
“Attack immediately,” Kurama ordered his subordinate. “That AS shouldn’t be able to move at all right now.”
♦ ♦ ♦
One man and one machine to protect 1200 people.
The last operation that Sousuke faced here in Tokyo, more than likely, was going to be the most difficult.
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