Chapter 177

Sorry for the unstable posting schedule lately. Life has been a bit of a whirlwind.

"Man, if we could just rain hellfire from the Plum, this would be over in a heartbeat... This is a total pain in the ass."

Taro grumbled as he glared into the heart of a sandstorm that had likely been raging for several hundred years without a coffee break. This wall of grit didn't just block out the sun and keep the planet at a cozy sub-zero temperature; it scrambled their radar and turned their vision into a blurry mess. It was, in every conceivable way, a giant middle finger to their tactical situation.

["A sandstorm, huh? Imperial society really wasn't built to handle this brand of environmental garbage,"] Alan agreed, his voice echoing through the comms with a heavy, digital sigh.

Technically, the Plum’s railguns could lob physical rounds onto the planet's surface, but they had one minor problem: they couldn't see what the hell they were shooting at. Attempting to report coordinates by sight at this range was basically playing a suicidal game of orbital darts. Given the sheer destructive force of a Large-caliber Warhead screaming down from high altitude, one "whoopsie" would turn Ladder Base into a very expensive crater.

["Sure, we can't use the Plum, but thank God for good old-fashioned kinetic slugs. It’s not all bad news, I’m sure! Anyway, the next shot is ready to go!"]

Marl sounded like she’d just avoided a heart attack. Taro nodded, watching the tanks in the distance continue their relentless bombardment. She had a point. Even a Ship-borne Beam Weapon pushed to its absolute limit would see its energy bleed away as heat within a few kilometers of thick atmosphere. A beam fired from space would never even tickle the dirt, whereas a Tank Cannon could reach out and touch someone nearly a hundred kilometers away.

"Besides, figuring out that ECM works on those bastards was a game-changer. I owe Koume one."

When they’d been debating which Cruiser parts to scavenge, it was Koume who had bet on the Ground-type WIND being vulnerable to electronic warfare.

Outer space was a constant nightmare of natural ECM like solar flares, but on a planet, the magnetic field acted like a giant safety blanket. Koume figured the planetary WIND variants would have zero evolution-based reasons to defend against electronic interference—or at the very least, they’d only have the bare minimum of protection.

["IT IS NOT OVER YET, AND AS YOU CAN PLAINLY SEE, THE ENEMY REMAINS EXTREMELY ENTHUSIASTIC. IS IT PERHAPS A BIT PREMATURE TO LET YOUR GUARD DOWN, MR. TEIRO?"]

Koume’s voice was as cold and logical as ever. Taro flashed a wry grin, acknowledging the point, and turned his focus back to the swarm. The WIND were surging forward, literally climbing over the scrap metal of their fallen comrades. He had no idea how far that black line of machines stretched into the storm.

"Yeah, yeah, I hear you. Well, let's kick things off with another bang, shall we?"

Taro jumped into the BISHOP’s controls, prepping the main gun and sounding the base-wide alarm. Around him, the crew hit the deck, engaging the magnetic locks on their suits so they wouldn't get tossed around like ragdolls.

"Here we go! Marl Cannon, fire!!"

["I TOLD YOU TO STOP CALLING IT THAT!!"]

A Large-caliber Beam tore into the wriggling convoy in the distance. The energy, diffused by the thick air, unleashed a localized firestorm and a shockwave that scoured the roof of the base clean of every last grain of sand.

"Whoa, that never gets old... Still, seriously, how many are there? It’s like they’re being printed on the spot."

As the remains of the WIND and chunks of the landscape rained down around them, Taro listened to the grit pinging off his helmet. The gap he’d just blasted into the convoy lasted all of a few seconds before the black line reformed as if nothing had happened. He’d hoped to trigger another landslide to block the slope, but fate was a cruel mistress—the collapsing canyon wall had actually formed a new, more convenient ramp for the machines.

["They've been stockpiling for four hundred years,"] Alan said, his voice sounding a bit ragged. ["The inventory isn't going to run out just because you're having fun."]

Taro nodded. That tracks. He glanced back at the group of Panther Tanks raining shells onto the enemy. If things got any worse, those tanks were their only tickets out of here.

"I need to draw them in as close as possible before we pop the next ECM... Alright, let's do this!"

No time to think about running yet, Taro thought, slapping his helmet to get his head in the game.

["Um, Teiro? About that..."]

Marl’s voice had gone suspiciously flat. Taro’s internal alarm bells went off instantly. He looked toward the turret. "What’s up?"

["The ECM Generator is... well, it’s not doing anything. I think firing a high-output burst inside the atmosphere fried it. I can't even get a diagnostic."]

She sounded utterly defeated. Taro wanted to comfort her, but the situation was moving way too fast for head-pats.

"It’s dead? Like, completely bricked?"

["Yeah, it won't even boot. The signal probably reflected off the atmosphere and cooked its own circuits. It’s a total loss."]

"I see... Damn."

Taro grimaced behind his visor. Okay, stay cool. This is fine. Everything is fine. Operation Aurora: Phase Two was supposed to be triggered by that second ECM pulse, but it looked like he’d have to pivot to Plan B.

"Alright, don't sweat it. Marl, stay on the main gun and keep the base from falling apart. We'll handle the surface."

["Got it... Hey, can we actually hold out until the timer hits zero without that ECM?"]

"Who knows? But I do know one thing..." Taro watched the endless wave of WIND crawling closer. "If we don't, we're dead."

Far above Planet Nuke, near the Space Station at Ladder Top, the Rising Sun’s Main Fleet was locked, loaded, and ready for the main event.

"Boss, the observation team just flagged a massive electromagnetic spike. It’s starting."

On the bridge of the Battleship Plum, the usual trio of Taro, Marl, and Koume was missing. In their place sat Bella and her inner circle, the air thick enough to choke a horse.

"You’re sure about that? Because 'oops' isn't an option here," Bella said, a cold, unlit cigar clamped between her teeth.

Her subordinate didn't flinch. "Confirmed, Ma'am. No mistake."

"Good. Then let's get to work."

Bella lit her cigar with a specialized capsule and took a massive drag, pulling the smoke deep into her lungs. Normally, she just puffed for the flavor, but when the stakes were this high, she needed the full hit. It was her version of a prayer.

"Phew... Nothing beats an expensive cigar. I’ll have to ask the boy to grow some for me later. If he can do rice and Natural Food, he can do tobacco... Operation Aurora: Final Phase, standby! Get your heads in the game, boys!"

She started out casual, but by the end, her voice carried the terrifying weight of a Space Mafia Leader. A chorus of "Yes, Ma’am!" rang out as the order swept through the fleet.

"Timer's live. We’re on schedule."

"YES, MA'AM! TIMER ACTIVE! COUNTING DOWN FROM 1,800 SECONDS!"

"Power up the turrets. Load the warheads. Prime the torpedoes."

"YES, MA'AM! TURRETS LIVE, TORPEDOES LOADED!"

"Tell the Weather Observation Team I want those ballistic calcs again. Tell them to run random samples until they get the same result a hundred times in a row. Maybe then they’ll be half as accurate as the boy."

Bella exhaled a long, slow cloud of smoke.

The Second Phase was supposed to trigger the moment they saw the second ECM pulse. If that pulse never came, the system was hard-wired to go hot automatically after thirty minutes.

"You all know the deal. No aborts. We drop the package exactly where it needs to go. Think of it like a pizza delivery."

She held up her cigar, her eyes turning into flint.

"Except if we miss, the boy and his friends get vaporized. And we won't be far behind. So, let’s do this like our lives depend on it—because they literally do."

Bella took another deep drag. To her, the numbers on the countdown clock seemed to be ticking backward.