Episode 173

"I’m incredibly sorry. This was entirely my fault."

In a meeting room buried deep beneath Ladder Base, Philip hung his head with the gravity of a man facing a firing squad. Teiro and the rest of the gang, huddled around the table, traded glances that screamed, So, what do we do with this guy?

"I’m the superior who gave you the green light to act," Phantom declared, rising to his feet to shield his subordinate. "If we’re playing the blame game, point the finger at me."

Teiro and the others exchanged another look before shaking their heads in a synchronized "no-go" gesture.

"Look, no matter how you slice it, the situation was a mess. Besides," Teiro added, "if we’re chasing the trail of responsibility, it eventually stops at my desk. I’m the chief executive, after all."

"Exactly," Marl chimed in. "And if we’re talking about responsibility, I’m right there with you. Honestly, you managed to shut down the chaos at NASA without the whole place exploding. You should be getting a gold star, not a lecture."

"I’m with them," Alan said. "That WIND entity lurking in the network… Henry, right? Given the nightmare fuel he could have unleashed later, the fact that you clipped his wings now is a massive win."

With Teiro, Marl, and Alan all backing them up, the two finally sat back down. Philip still looked like he wanted to apologize to the floorboards, but after Phantom gave him a stiff nod of approval, he finally settled into his chair.

"Still, while we were busy finding literal treasures over here, things were going absolutely sideways on your end. I mean, we figured things would be bad, but a WIND living inside the network? That’s some Grade-A nightmare fuel right there," Teiro said.

What kind of hell could a digital WIND actually unleash? Teiro shuddered as a dozen apocalyptic scenarios played out in his head.

"Koume believes there is a vast chasm between theoretical existence and actual reality," Koume stated with her trademark lack of any discernible human emotion. "My word, WIND may be a far more sophisticated lifeform than our puny imaginations allowed for."

Everyone nodded in grim agreement. Alan’s face looked like it had been carved out of a particularly grumpy piece of granite. "We need to overhaul our strategy."

"It’s not like we were taking them lightly before, but it’s time to double-down," Alan continued. "Is Henry a one-off, or is he just one of many? Is there another version of him up in orbit? What’s his actual ceiling? We’re swimming in unknowns, so we have to assume the worst-case scenario is already knocking on the door."

"True enough… but hey, just knowing they’re in the wires is a huge step, right?" Teiro asked.

"Spot on, Boss. You can’t build a bug zapper if you don’t know there are bugs. The Intelligence Department is going to spearhead some countermeasures, but since there’s zero precedent for 'digital ghost aliens,' we’re winging it. If anyone has a bright idea, spit it out… though for now, we’ve got bigger fish to fry."

Alan gestured toward the massive screen on the wall. It displayed a high-res topo map of the area surrounding Ladder Base, currently running a combat simulation. It looked less like a battle and more like a slaughter; a tsunami of red dots surged forward, completely erasing the Base from the map.

"…Are they really going to hit us that hard?" Marl whispered, swallowing a lump of dry nerves.

Teiro gave a lopsided, self-deprecating shrug. "I don’t know for sure, but..."

He looked at the screen. Based on the data snatched from NASA, the [TACTICAL COMPUTER] had crunched the numbers and spat out a result that was nothing short of insulting.

[COMBAT POWER RATIO — 35 : 1]

"With our current firepower, we aren't even in the conversation. Honestly, we’re at the 'burn the place down and move to a different neighborhood' level of screwed," Teiro admitted.

"If that were an option, I’d be the first one packing the bags," Alan said. "But realistically, how many other spots can even support a Base?"

Koume raised her hand like a diligent student. "Based on my projections, there are two potential candidates. However, one is on the literal opposite side of the planet, and the other is at the pole. If we move there, any hope of interacting with NASA is DOA due to the distance."

With a flick of her hand, Koume swapped the display to a planetary view. Earth’s nastiest typhoons looked like gentle summer breezes compared to the hyper-storms raking this planet. The only "calm" spots were the two locations Koume mentioned and the ground they were currently standing on.

"…I’d really like to avoid the 'leave 'em to die' option," Teiro said.

The room went quiet as everyone turned to look at him.

"Look, nobody wants to be the guy who abandons millions of people," Alan said, his tone uncharacteristically soft. "But those people have been surviving on their own for centuries. If we’re playing the long game, do we really need to die on this hill right now? We could come back when we’re actually packing some real heat."

Teiro nodded slowly. "I hear you. I do. But…"

He crossed his arms and stared at the ceiling. "I don’t think they have that kind of time. Even if we ignore the fact that they’re running out of BISHOP parts, the clock is ticking."

"Why?" Marl asked, her brow furrowed.

Teiro let the silence hang for a moment as he gathered his thoughts. Then, he spat it out: "Chum."

"Chum? Wait… you’re joking, right?" Marl gasped as the realization hit her like a freight train.

Alan tilted his head, looking lost. "Care to let the rest of the class in on the secret?"

"It’s the only reason NASA still exists," Teiro explained. "My bet? The WIND have been keeping them alive as bait, waiting for someone like us to drop down from the sky to 'save' them. It’s the only thing that makes the pieces fit. They want our tech. They want to know how to get back up into space."

It clicked. The WIND Marl had been fighting when they first met had been doing the exact same thing—dangling a lure to see what kind of ships would bite.

"Good grief…" Alan closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. "Phantom. That 'Henry' guy you met. Was he smart enough to pull off a multi-century long-con?"

"He was trying to wear a human face," Phantom replied, his voice grim. "In terms of raw intelligence, he’s at least on par with us. Probably higher. He was even trying to manipulate Antonio using emotional leverage. He understands how we tick, probably better than we do."

Phantom leaned back, his hand on his chin. "If the President is right, then the moment we leave, NASA’s 'shelf life' expires. If the WIND decide the bait isn't catching anything else, they’ll just clear the board. To them, those people are just annoying, low-tech kinslayers."

"Exactly," Teiro said, tapping his finger irritably on the table. "And the kicker? If that happens, it’s on us. If we hadn't shown up, the status quo would’ve held. We can’t just walk away and say 'oops, our bad' when a few million people get deleted."

Alan let out a string of curses. "That explains everything. The crappy NASA gear, the raids that always seem to stop just before they win… they’ve got endless machines that don't get tired, yet they attack in shifts? They could’ve steamrolled NASA years ago. Dammit… they’ve been keeping those people like livestock for centuries!"

Disgust was the only word for the look on Alan's face. In fact, it was the only word for everyone in the room.

"…I won't allow it," Marl said, her fists white-knuckled.

"Yeah. Me neither," Teiro said, slamming his hand onto the table. "Running away now? That’s some sub-human behavior right there. Sure, from a 'corporate strategy' perspective, a tactical retreat makes sense. Save the VIPs, live to fight another day. Even a moron like me gets the logic. But we’re the Rising Sun Alliance. We don't do that crap."

Teiro stood up, cutting the air with a wide sweep of his hand.

"If we’re going to order people to go out there and die, we’d better be standing in the trenches right next to them. We did it with the Dingoes, we did it with Enzio, and we’ve done it every step of the way. I’m not changing the rules now. Even if the odds are trash, we do the job. That’s what people expect from us—and it’s what we expect from ourselves, right?"

He looked around the room, his eyes burning with a silent challenge: Am I wrong?

Seeing the fire reflected in their eyes, he grinned, satisfied. "Koume. Give us the kicker, like you always do."

Koume nodded and stood up. "Understood, Mr. Teiro."

"As an AI, the concept of 'human emotion' remains a bit of a localized mystery to me. However, I fully grasp the tactical and moral weight of not abandoning one's comrades. If even the WIND can weaponize that sentiment, then I would be a very poor AI indeed if I failed to understand it."

She puffed out her chest, looking quite pleased with herself, earning a few small smiles from the group.

"Furthermore, per Mr. Teiro’s request, I shall present a single, undeniable fact. Listen closely, everyone. A valid Merger Treaty has already been executed between the Rising Sun Alliance and NASA. This means NASA is no longer a separate entity; they are full-fledged members of the RSA. As such, we have a legal and binding obligation to provide them with maximum protection. To put it simply—"

The expressionless AI let a tiny, triumphant smile tug at the corner of her mouth.

"They are already our comrades."

Author's Note: You can now read a preview of the printed version of "Antiques of the Galactic War Chronicles" on the Overlap Bunko official page! You can see the character spreads and everything!

Koume is so cute. Marl is... well, she’s got curves for days. Bella’s bust is frankly terrifying, and Liza’s armpits are surprisingly erotic... It just occurred to me: are all the main women in this series incredibly strong-willed?