Chapter 178

The moment one of the WIND squirming across the dirt started glowing blue, Taro knew the party was officially starting.

"Here comes the mosh pit! Everyone, get your shields up!" Taro bellowed, hauling a massive rectangular slab of metal out of a container.

Blue streaks began to zip through the air, and despite the frantic hammering of his heart, Taro managed to fumbled the shield’s cable into a ground plug.

"Praise be to the holy Razor Metal," he grunted. "I’m glad we didn't skimp on the materials."

The shield, essentially a hunk of armor plate hacked off a dismantled Cruiser, was an ergonomic nightmare thanks to the thick cable dangling from its base. However, the connection allowed it to tap into the Ladder Base’s Beam Shield. Because the Rising Sun Makina development department refined the stuff in-house, their proprietary plating was packed with far more Razor Metal than your average ship—giving it top-tier Shield Traversal Performance.

[THEIR EFFECTIVE RANGE IS LONGER THAN ADVERTISED,] Phantom’s voice crackled through the comms, piping a zoomed-in feed of the WIND directly into Taro's BISHOP. [AND IF YOU LOOK CLOSELY, THEY’VE HAD A BIT OF A MAKEOVER.]

The things on the screen looked like scarab beetles with elongated, spindly limbs. They definitely weren't the same models Taro had seen in the NASA archives.

"New model? Old-type? Or did they just specialize for this?" Taro grumbled, squinting at the feed. "Actually, who cares? All I know is they look like a total gorefest. My eyes are bleeding just looking at them."

He winced, typed a quick warning into the database’s emergency log, and blasted a "High Alert" notification to the rest of the Base.

[SENTRY GUNS 19, 22, AND 128 ARE TRASHED. 88 AND 104 ARE TOTALED. IT SEEMS THE ENEMY IS QUITE PICKY ABOUT THEIR TARGETS, MR. TEIRO. OOPS, ADD 188 TO THE SCRAP HEAP.]

"Gah! Divert the ammo from the broken guns to the survivors! Since when can these bugs pull off precision sniping?!"

[TEIRO, MOVE IT! ONCE THEY HIT CLOSE-QUARTERS, THE TANKS CAN’T PROVIDE COVER FIRE. THEY’LL BE ON US IN SECONDS!]

"I’m going, I’m going!"

Taro scooped up the shield—a massive hunk of iron he shouldn’t have been able to lift under normal circumstances—along with his heavy weaponry and bolted for the edge of the roof alongside the other employees.

[HEY, MR. PRESIDENT! KEEP YOUR HEAD DOWN OR YOU’RE GOING TO LOSE IT!]

The moment Taro caught sight of the enemy swarm surrounding the base, he felt himself being tackled into the dirt. A split second later, a volley of blue beams whistled through the space where his head had just been.

"Ow, ow, ow... Sorry, thanks for the save. You’re Hogan, right? One of Phantom’s guys?"

Taro offered his thanks to the burly man lying prone next to him before frantically setting up his Machine Gun.

"It’s an honor to be remembered by the President himself," Hogan replied, his voice terrifyingly calm. "But listen, this kind of grunt work is our bread and butter. Shouldn't you be back at the command console?"

"No way. Me, commanding Land Combat? I’d kill us all in five minutes. It’s a hundred times better with Alan running the show. My specialty is strictly orbital."

Taro gave an exaggerated shrug and clumsily finished assembling his Shielded Machine Gun. He braced it so only the barrel poked over the edge. He didn't even need to peek; the camera mounted on the muzzle sent a perfectly clear—and perfectly terrifying—view straight to his HUD.

"You’re not exactly a ‘long life expectancy’ kind of President, are you? I like your spirit, though," Hogan chuckled. He plucked a Hand Grenade from a nearby crate and tossed it with the casual flick of a man throwing a crumpled paper ball.

"Whoa... as expected of a Cyborg," Taro gawked. "Just how far did that thing go?"

The grenade soared through the air like it had been launched from a catapult. It detonated in the distance, showering the area in shrapnel and neatly dismantling the limbs of several WIND.

"Doing stuff like this is how I justify my paycheck," Hogan said. "I’m not a big-brain leader like the Captain, and I don’t have her raw output, but I can throw things."

He continued to rain down Hand Grenades. In his hands, the improvised explosives—barely more than blasting caps and powder—might as well have been a battery of mortars.

"Wait, didn't you say your body was eighty percent machine? Is Phantom just a newer model or something?"

Taro started laying down fire as he talked. His Heavy Machine Gun didn't have the fire rate of a Sentry Gun, but the sheer caliber was enough to punch through WIND armor. Every hit sent chunks of metal flying, and a lucky burst could sever a limb entirely.

"Nah, it’s not like that. The Captain is... different. She’s not motor-driven. Her whole body is—Whoops, that’s a bad one!"

SMACK.

Taro’s face met the floor again. His suit absorbed the brunt of it, but the suddenness of the impact left him seeing stars.

"What was that—"

Before Taro could finish his complaint, his entire world turned white. A violent shockwave rattled his bones, and a muffled scream escaped his lips inside the helmet.

"Damn, those bugs are packing some serious heat," Hogan spat, already back to chucking grenades.

Taro blinked, trying to clear his vision, and realized the armor plating around their position was warped and blackened.

"Did I... get hit? Hands? Check. Feet? Check. Head? Still attached. Am I leaking?"

He began frantically patting himself down in a daze. Hogan gave Taro’s helmet a playful thwack. "The suit can handle it as long as it isn't a direct hit," he laughed.

"Well, depending on the range, anyway. See that big bastard over there? That’s the one sniping us. He's out of my throwing range... CAPTAIN! Take that oversized cockroach out!"

The moment Hogan shouted, the head of a WIND—one significantly bulkier than the rest—exploded as if it had been struck by a divine hammer. Taro looked back toward the watchtower and saw a silhouette braced behind a massive rifle. It was likely Phantom; she was swaying with a rhythmic, ghostly motion, dancing between the incoming beams.

"...You could gather two thousand Imperial Land Combat Soldiers and they still wouldn't stand a chance against her."

"Hey now, the Imperial boys were plenty good. Even the Captain said she never wants to fight them again."

Taro crawled back to his Machine Gun, checked the vitals, and resumed spraying lead at the advancing swarm. Alan’s voice periodically barked orders into his ear, designating priority targets and sectors, which Taro tried to balance alongside the automated Sentry Gun fire.

"The vanguard is toast!" Taro yelled.

[GOOD WORK. THE SOUTH SIDE IS ABOUT TO BE COMPLETELY ENCIRCLED. REDIRECT ALL SENTRY FIRE THERE.]

"On it. I'm running low on ammo, so I'm going dark on the north side, okay?"

[UNDERSTOOD. MOVE WITH HOGAN TO THE NORTH-NORTHWEST. WE’RE LOSING INTEL FROM THAT SECTOR, LIKELY DUE TO CASUALTIES.]

"Roger that! Man, it feels weird having our roles reversed!"

"Haha! A little field work is good for the soul. Now move, move, move!"

"Yeah, yeah. You know, being a slave-driver is a great way to make your subordinates hate—BUFO!?"

Taro had tried to stand up while pulling his gun back and was promptly tackled into the dirt for the third time. He gave a sheepish "my bad" gesture to Hogan, who was slowly shaking his head, and decided to stay low. He began a clumsy, ungraceful belly-crawl away from the ledge. It was a pathetic sight, but in this chaos, nobody was laughing.

"Mr. President, you really aren't built for this. Just stay glued to my ass and follow me."

Hogan sounded genuinely exasperated. Taro gave a weak, wry smile. "I’m starting to agree with you," he whispered, tailing the cyborg.

The rooftop was a masterpiece of pure, unadulterated carnage. Beams crisscrossed overhead in a lethal light show. People were screaming, ammo was being lugged, and medics were dragging the wounded. The Rising Sun Temporary Land Combat Unit—a ragtag mix of Phantom’s pros and Bella’s Security Department—was throwing everything they had into the meat grinder.

"........."

Taro passed an Armed Suit lying motionless on the floor. The helmet was crushed inward like a soda can. He didn't want to think about what the person inside looked like now. He just kept moving.

Why am I...

Why am I doing this? The thought started to form, but he bit it back. He couldn't go there. Not now.

"They're the lucky ones, Mr. President," Hogan said, his voice devoid of doubt. "There are people who die for no reason at all, just starving in the dark. If you go out fighting for your comrades, that’s about as good a death as you can hope for, right?"

Taro glanced at him and gave a small shrug as they ran. "Maybe. You’re probably right. But as the guy who actually sent them here to die, it’s a bit more complicated for me."

"Hmph. I wouldn't know. I’ve never been the one at the top. But guys like you have to do the math on lives, don't you? Sacrificing the few to save the many. You just gotta make your peace with it."

"......Yeah. A certain dog bastard told me the exact same thing once."

"Dog bastard?"

"Nothing. Forget I said anything."

They reached their destination. Taro, determined not to fail a third time, stayed flat on his stomach as he neared the edge.

"We’re here to provide cover! Give us a sitrep! We heard the intel was—"

Taro set up his gun next to a man already stationed at the perimeter. When he didn't get a reply, he turned his head.

"......GYAHH!?"

He recoiled, a primal scream tearing from his throat. The soldier’s head had been impaled through the helmet by something incredibly sharp, leaving the armor twisted and mangled. Bright red blood was geysering out of the puncture wound.

"PRESIDENT!! WATCH OUT!!"

Taro felt a massive hand grab him and hurl him backward. He skidded ten meters across the roof, sparks flying from his suit, stopping just inches away from a lethal plunge over the far edge.

"Whoa—I’m gonna fall! I’m gonna die! C-Could you be a little more gentle next ti—eh?"

Standing over Hogan was a three-meter-tall mechanical nightmare. It looked like a four-legged praying mantis made of cold steel. It raised needle-like talons, swaying them with a fluid, organic grace that no machine should possess.

"......N-No way. No way, no way, no way. The enemy is still hundreds of yards out. How did it—"

Taro crawled back to the edge and looked down. He stopped breathing. His jaw hit the floor.

"......Are you kidding me?"

Right next to the Ladder Base, the ground had been torn open by an unnaturally large hole. And from that darkness, an endless stream of WIND was pouring out, leaping directly onto the base walls.

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Author's Note: Updates might be a little slow for a bit, please bear with me!