Chapter 15
Chapter 15
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Translator: uly
Chapter: 15
Chapter Title: Real-Time Tactics
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"RTA Tactics is a relatively new course, only in its seventh year. But it's shown unprecedented educational results. That's why, starting this semester, it's become a mandatory requirement for all cadets."
The instructor carried on with the lesson, ignoring the chaotic atmosphere in the room.
"And the format has changed a bit too."
A large panel lit up on each desk.
It was a tactical table using augmented reality, just like the ones real frontline commanders used.
Displayed on the tactical table was comprehensive information about a certain squad.
"We'll start with small units. Decide on action guidelines for the squad members in front of you. All available information can be accessed through your tactical table."
"The first one? So later we'll handle larger units?"
"Yes. It won't jump straight up. Make tactical decisions for as many scenarios as possible. The more positively your tactics influence future developments, the higher your score. If you hit a certain score threshold, your commander level rises, and you'll get examples with larger units."
Got it.
The better you do, the faster you promote.
"Also, your grades here will count directly toward your final semester score."
"No tests?"
"Nope. No separate tests."
I examined the tactical table closely.
It held far more precise and detailed info than expected.
Switching to VR mode made it feel even more real.
I could experience all five senses—minus touch—like being right there with the soldiers on the battlefield.
"During class, you're free to act as you like. Discuss with other cadets, ask me for help, or work solo as long as you don't bother anyone."
"What about leaving?"
"Of course not allowed. Oh, and you can reconnect to this tactical table anytime, even outside class hours. The info keeps updating."
More systematic than I thought.
This would be the talk of the cadets all semester.
I started by checking the first squad scenario provided.
Target: a standard recon squad of ten, per regulations.
A quick glance around showed everyone nearby had the same scenario.
'Recon Squad 22?'
The mission was basic: scout the forward ridgeline and return.
The squad members were ordinary grunts, nothing special.
Seemed like nothing to worry about.
'But that's what makes it tricky.'
RTA Tactics aimed to build situational judgment, tactical skills for commanders, and battlefield familiarity.
But underneath, it baited competition with grades.
Competition meant gaining an edge over others.
In a setup like this, could you really just issue a bland order like 'maintain radio silence and scout thoroughly' when there's seemingly nothing to do?
Most would struggle.
'This is...'
Obvious intent in starting with this scenario.
Just to get used to the tactical table and experience a standard commander situation.
Given RTA's nature, no setups or traps possible. It had to be straightforward.
'Still, better check it out.'
I pored over every bit of info provided.
From the first scenario to the daily limit of ten, none had any real room for intervention.
'Guess I'll have to wait and see.'
After reviewing everything, I wrapped up the rest with standard tactical reports faithful to the missions.
The one I left out? Surprisingly, the very first one.
The recon zone for Squad 22 was a former hatchery colony wiped out in a scorched-earth op, but a few suspicious things stood out.
'Claw secretions... right?'
Even in VR mode, the traces were so faint they were iffy.
On a hunch, I added an investigation of those traces to the directives.
No guarantee the real squad would follow my orders exactly, but if something related popped up, I'd score extra points.
Finally, I added the scenario to my watchlist and logged out of the tactical table.
For some reason, I looked forward to the next update.
*
Squad 22's situation kept evolving.
What should've been a quick recon turned messy when a pack of Claws ambushed them, causing three casualties.
'Definitely the ones that left those secretions.'
I recalled what I knew about Claws.
They were the basic combat unit in strategy games, basically.
First to show up on most planets once Alien contamination started, fast and versatile too.
Could pop up anywhere, anytime on a contaminated world.
So why were they getting under my skin?
'Need more intel. Can't request reinforcements?'
Squad 22's casualty rate hit 30%.
Normally, that'd ground the op.
No reinforcements coming either.
The military had moved on after the clean scorched-earth sweep, already forming new frontlines farther ahead in fierce fights.
'No way they'd detect anything in a precision scan of the area, so of course they'd pull back.'
Most cadets probably chose casualty recovery and retreat here.
'Time to revisit the tactical map.'
Especially the terrain around.
Magnetic storms and quakes from worsening Alien contamination.
Alien corpses, hatchery debris, metallic ground from constant battles—all jamming precision scans.
'And when you factor this in...'
I scrutinized the combat footage of the Claws.
They were newborns, no doubt.
Couldn't say why exactly.
Call it a gut feeling.
On the map, all live or recently active hatcheries were far from the zone. So these Claws had to hatch right there in the scorched area.
'Miraculously surviving eggs? Slim chance. Their behavior doesn't match.'
After mulling it over, I concluded a hatchery had survived the scorched-earth op.
Rare, usually.
Scorched-earth meant total annihilation.
Overkill firepower targeted everything hostile—surface, subsurface.
Hatcheries, and worse, shouldn't survive.
'Need grounds to keep them from pulling back.'
RTA Tactics let you make real-time calls on battlefield info, but cadets' tactics weren't actually applied.
Just observe how situations evolved and think about your tactics' outcomes.
So I hunted for evidence to convince higher-ups.
To make those troops on my table move as I wanted, for real.
'...Found it!'
Only after digging through the map and all appendices.
I submitted a report based on my find.
'If I'm wrong, oh well.'
I prepped for dawn training with Sahim, chill as could be.
No clue what that report would unleash.
***
"Lemon, you taking this course too?"
"Yeah. Mandatory, right?"
"Then check this out. What should I do?"
Roze peeked at her tactical table while asking.
A glance showed she was still stuck on the first day's ten scenarios.
Her tactic history was all over the place—she was clearly stumped.
"What does Barton say?"
"Just leave it to the squad leader's judgment? Says it'll only get worse if you mess up."
Roze answered, sounding bummed.
Barton had spilled the 'right' answer, huh.
But her approach wasn't wrong.
Tough to seriously tackle a field that didn't fit you.
"Not bad advice."
"Ugh, really?"
"Yeah, try it his way. Only write tactics for scenarios you're confident in. Sound good?"
"That work?"
It would.
I'd figured out the program's logic after a week.
Initial scenarios were the same for everyone.
As classes went on, poor-fit scenarios dwindled for each cadet, while good-fit ones ramped up.
Extra points came automatically.
'The better you get, the more hooked you'll be.'
Well-designed course.
Roze might even find her commander niche this way.
"Huh."
"...Hmm."
"No need to overthink. Nailing your strengths is plenty, right?"
"Right! You're spot on. Lemon's the best."
Roze laughed heartily and patted my wing bone.
I flinched at the sudden touch, then snapped out of it.
Thought I was used to it, but nope.
"...And with effort like yours, you'll shine someday."
"Right?"
We arrived at the RTA Tactics classroom.
For once, a full-class announcement switched everyone to joint session, landing Roze in my slot.
"Leonard."
"Oh, Sahim."
"Sit here? Let's discuss this time."
Sahim and Barton were already seated.
Wait, where was Merdi?
Figured she'd glue to Roze or Barton.
"Hi?"
"...Uh. Yeah. Hi?"
Jeez.
How'd she sneak up from behind every time?
I eyed Merdi warily as she smiled, passed me, and sat. Stuck Roze next to me, skipped a seat, and settled in.
"Hmm~"
Can't see her.
Can't hear her.
No Merdi here.
I ignored her gaze hard and opened the tactical table.
No update since my report, even after the first scenario's progress.
Said to contact admin—no reply.
"Why the sudden joint class? Something up?"
"Updates stalled on some battlefields. Probably related."
"How's that link to joint class?"
This was Roze's dessert time post-meal.
No wonder she griped about missing a life highlight.
"Oh, they're coming."
The instructors entered.
No words—just queued a video and hit play.
It showed a fierce battlefield slugfest.
"What is it?"
"Hurnshia Planet."
Barton clocked it first.
The weird yellow sky, red and white glowing satellites—it was the backdrop for tons of our scenarios.
'...That's Squad 22?'
I spotted familiar faces among the troops.
Members of Squad 22, the one I'd watched closest.
"Those guys...?"
"Know something?"
"Faces ring a bell?"
Not just Squad 22.
Multiple squads from nearby scenarios in ours were all here.
The fight intensified.
Not just Hazard Levels 1 and 2 Aliens—3s and 4s joined, wreaking havoc.
Enough firepower to flatten a city in seconds.
But the military's response was fiercer.
They'd committed hard: overwhelming the Aliens' firepower, supers taking out high-threats efficiently.
"Whoa... awesome!"
"They're crushing it!!"
Cheers erupted.
Cadets scarred by gruesome scenes before now thrilled at the firepower porn.
'No way... this is...?'
I glanced at the instructors' huddle.
Like we'd planned it, every eye met mine.