Chapter 111
Chapter 111
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 111
Chapter Title: Reinforcing the Metal Gear Mercenaries
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# 111
The crew members busily compiled the situation reports.
Aliens were popping up sporadically across such a vast region that the defense troops dispatched by the Self-Defense Forces and the Allied Forces couldn't mount a proper response.
At best, they'd managed to form front lines centered on the cities.
"A request for our participation has come in from the military."
"No word on what exactly they want us to do?"
"It's all garbled."
"They're probably losing it."
What struck me as I pieced together the situation was that this wasn't the work of just one or two hatcheries.
Multiple hatcheries had been lurking underground, and it was highly likely they'd kicked off operations simultaneously due to some trigger.
'The cause can wait.'
If the defense forces were this disorganized, it was proof the crisis was dire—but it wasn't all bad, since it meant we got to pick our battlefield.
"Looks like our maiden voyage gets a first engagement to boot."
"We're lucky."
"Not even a little tense?"
"We judge the enemy's anti-air capabilities as absent or negligible. No need for tension."
Frederic scanned the crew as he spoke.
It felt like he was addressing them.
'As long as we don't strike the hatchery directly, we shouldn't be in immediate danger.'
There was only one presumed location for the active hatchery.
But charging straight in to wipe it out right now would be idiotic.
Given the scale of the aliens on the prowl, the hatchery itself was no doubt massive—and a single Shilla-class ship probably couldn't do squat against it.
Our job was to protect civilians until reinforcements arrived and thin out the aliens rampaging outside as much as possible.
"Checked the area around the destination coordinates?"
"Yes! Rescue signals are coming in from there too."
"Defensive forces?"
"There are some, but not nearly enough."
The Metal Gear Mercenaries' base was under attack as well.
They were defending a city of about 200,000 people, but the military was too far off to provide aid.
Their skills might hold for now, but leaving them be would inevitably rack up casualties.
"Head there."
"Yes!"
The ship accelerated toward its set destination.
There were other fierce battlegrounds where we could've been useful, but I ignored them outright.
You can't plug every hole with one hand.
Better to safeguard my own people for sure.
"Rapid atmospheric entry!"
The engines roared to life, enveloping the ship in a barrier.
Friction heat set the air ablaze, trailing red flames.
But inside the bridge, aside from a faint vibration, there was nothing to feel.
That spoke to the ship's stellar performance.
"Visuals incoming shortly."
"Enemy count?"
"Just the ones within 5km of the city—around 100,000."
"Not much."
"What's the plan?"
"Sweep 'em. Open secondary batteries!"
"Secondary batteries fully deployed!"
Ten high-output energy turrets emerged from the bow and the upper and lower hulls.
Fueled by the engines' immense power, they could unleash over six rounds per minute—the battleship's go-to firepower.
Each shot leveled a 20-meter radius and reliably hammered anything up to Danger Level 2.
"In range."
"What're you waiting for? Fire!"
"All batteries fire!"
Coalesced orbs of light blasted from the ten turrets, one per second without pause.
After a brief flight, the shells slammed into the aliens and detonated spectacularly.
"Don't stop till we've erased them all."
"Yes!"
The aliens took the barrage like lightning strikes, detonating in swarms.
The zoomed feed showed some baring their teeth at us, but at our lofty altitude, the battleship was beyond their reach—they just milled helplessly.
'Takes a while.'
Battleships couldn't vaporize everything in one go.
The main guns could've inflicted massive casualties, but against these low-tier aliens, it'd be a waste.
I checked the engine status and reviewed the ship's armament again.
Beyond the standard energy weapons, we only had basic armaments aboard.
Prep would've been nice, but we'd planned to board the full combat crew, return to base, and draw supplies there.
The ship's built-in energy weapons were handy—no extra space needed.
But they stressed the engines.
That was why ships typically carried supplementary kinetics to bolster firepower.
'Hope the defense forces have enough stockpiles.'
The Self-Defense Forces' arsenal was bound to be pathetic.
Their main gig was planetary policing, not full-scale war, so most of it was light stuff.
Sure, they'd ramped up lately with the alien threat looming, but I wasn't holding my breath.
It all came down to the defense forces—and whether they'd have enough was anyone's guess.
"Captain. Incoming comm request."
"ID confirmed?"
"City representative."
"Hm. Patch it through."
It wasn't what I wanted to see.
I considered refusing, but figured a quick chat wouldn't hurt, so we exchanged a few words and cut it short.
"Pretty deferential."
"If we leave, they're done for."
To the city folk, we were saviors.
Ditch them after saving their skins? They'd cling to our legs—no surprise.
"Still no line to the mercenary leader?"
"Trying the code you gave, but no dice. Routing through locals now."
"Patch him the second we connect."
From mopping up the aliens, it was clear the Metal Gear Mercenaries were handling the city's defense.
The local militia existed, but they were useless.
The wait dragged on, making me wonder if something was wrong, when the mercenary leader's face finally popped up.
-Who knew seeing my employer's face would feel this good.
"Skip the pleasantries. What's the situation?"
-Total mess. Isolated—if you hadn't come, we'd be goners.
The leader wasted no time expressing his relief.
Steam still rising from his body told me he'd been in the thick of it moments ago.
"City's defensive capabilities?"
-No weapons. Plenty of veterans though—with arms, things'd be better.
"We'll hand over the personal firearms earmarked for your crew. Distribute to reliable hands."
-That'll make a huge difference.
The leader's face lit up.
Veterans were perfect for emergencies, so it checked out.
"Captain. Looks like we've cleared most of the visible ones."
"Good. Descend. We'll handle the stragglers at leisure."
It took about 40 minutes of sustained fire before the area was mostly sanitized.
Longer than expected, thanks to fresh waves of aliens drawn by the bombardment.
Looked like steady defense was on the menu for a while.
"Engine status?"
"Green-Yellow. She's healthy."
Engine checks used color codes for overload levels.
Green, Yellow, Orange, Red, Black—from good to worst. Black meant explosive overload, so really just the four main stages got used.
"We could add more secondaries for a short-term firepower spike."
I nodded at Frederic's suggestion.
Nominal 3,000 tons displacement, but those engines could've powered a 10,000-tonner.
No wonder they boasted premium grade.
The battleship neared the surface.
We touched down in a wide clearing in the park—crowds already gathering to gawk.
"Hold the bridge. I'll be right back."
"Take these five. We can spare 'em here."
Frederic beckoned one senior crewman and four regulars, sending them my way.
I took them without protest.
No deckhands for grunt work right now—even a cat's paw would do.
"Open the bay with the personal arms. Hand 'em over when the leader arrives. Grab all the medical supplies too."
I barked orders on the move to the aft deck.
The stern was built for big cargo—fully openable. Had to crack it anyway for the guns.
The deck hissed open, and the mercenary leader's face was first to appear.
"Employer!"
He strode forward like he might hug me.
After his stone-faced demeanor last time, his glee was contagious—I couldn't help grinning.
"Call me Captain now."
"Titles are nothing. You saved our hides."
"Couldn't lose my crew to aliens."
I gripped his cold metal hand and shook firmly.
His mercs piled aboard in the meantime, snapping salutes before hustling inside.
The leader bellowed at them.
"Move it! West team's first!"
"Got it!"
I watched them go, then asked.
"Any wounded mercs?"
"A few banged up saving civilians. Reckless bastards..."
"Getting medical?"
"Hospitals are slammed. Too many injured—even triage is a nightmare."
"Bring the critical cases aboard then. Our med gear'll help."
The leader blinked in surprise, then summoned another merc and issued orders.
Boarding civilians willy-nilly was bad form, but lives first.
We were mid-chat when someone else clambered aboard.
Not merc gear—odd. I stared, and he spotted me, rushing over yelling.
"Oh, superhuman sir!"
"Who're you?"
"The mayor of this humble city, sir."
Short guy, voice like thunder—echoed through the ship.
He launched into a rambling torrent of thanks, piling on the flowery phrases.
'He pull this on comms too?'
I'd cut him off quick last time, claiming I was busy—missed the motormouth bit.
Looked like it'd go forever, so I raised a hand to shut him down.
"Thanks noted. Why're you here?"
"Ah! You saved our city—only right to thank you face-to-face. Plus..."
"Defense talks? The mercenary leader here's plenty."
"But even so..."
The mayor clocked my drift, eyes darting with regret.
Then he spotted the mercs hauling weapons.
"Superhuman sir! Those weapons the mercs are carrying?"
"Yeah. Supplying for city defense."
"Then our militia deserves some too, right? Our guys are dying with peashooters. Give 'em those, and aliens are toast!"
I glanced sidelong at the leader.
His face was thunder.
"And the mercs? They'll hit us for cash later. 'Pay for protecting the city,' they'll say. Superhuman, don't let those hyena-like..."
Clang!
"...Guh!"
The leader smashed his fists together.
The metallic crash jolted the mayor—he clapped hands over his ears and doubled over.
'Watch your mouth next time.'
How'd a loose cannon like this snag mayor?
Desperate times made eyes glaze over at weapons, sure—but think when the man's right there.
"...Wh-what."
"Guess the leader didn't like that. Neither did I."
"Huh?"
"I'm not consulting you on defense. City stands thanks to the mercs' efforts—deal with them."
"But..."
"You'd best head back to your office and handle other business."