Reconnaissance (1)
Yesterday had been eventful. Perhaps I had been too oblivious to my surroundings. The moment I learned the military was slowly crumbling, my vision went dark, and I could no longer spare attention for anything else. Even if I tried, I would have collapsed midway through. The soldiers' exhaustion was the inevitable result of my ruthless pruning of every side issue in my single-minded drive to gather as many refugees as quickly as possible. In hindsight, it was only natural. By pushing my subordinates too hard to fulfill the Controller's objectives, the side effects had arrived swiftly. Thanks to that, my mind had snapped, and I had fallen asleep without even answering the lab's call that came in the evening. Only this morning did I finally receive another transmission from the research facility.
"Ah, Your Excellency. Did something happen yesterday?"
"There was a bit of trouble with the military. Anyway, is the simulation complete?"
Having risen early and finished breakfast in a hurry, I now had the leisure to speak with the researchers.
"Yes. Fortunately, the compound can be handled with our current facilities and resources."
"Hmm. That's a silver lining. Precisely how can it be applied?"
"If we spray a special coating on the gunship's external armor, the coating will vaporize in place of the armor upon impact and detonation, minimizing damage. It's essentially an aerosol-type reactive armor."
Reactive armor—applying tank armor technology to a gunship was a rather novel idea. Similar to the Zimmerit coating from the Second World War, perhaps? Regardless, it was something that would improve gunship survivability, so I welcomed it wholeheartedly.
"Excellent. Upload the research data to the mainframe immediately. That way the aviation battalion's maintenance crews can begin work right away."
"Understood. Is there anything else...?"
"You may rest for now. Reinforcements will arrive soon, so it would be good to tidy up the lab in advance."
"Ah. Understood. Communication terminated."
> The newly developed special coating has been designated "Blast-Proof Coating." Originally it was simply called special coating, but when one of the maintenance crew members working on it used that name, its indescribable aptness led everyone else to adopt it as well. Before long, even the artificial intelligence began referring to the special coating as blast-proof coating.
> [Your Excellency. This is a rendering of the gunship coated with blast-proof paint.]
"Hmm."
The gunship, once a sleek metallic color, now gleamed in a deep bluish hue. The shade, best described as navy blue, resembled the camouflage of a submarine.
"Good. Now we must conduct a test. Contact the commander."
> [Connecting communication.]
"Ah, Controller. What can I do for you?"
"You are aware that the gunships have received the new blast-proof coating, correct? This time, I intend to conduct a large-scale forced reconnaissance using the gunships."
"Is that so? The location...?"
"All directions—north, south, east, and west. If there are survivors, I plan to rescue them."
"A full-directional forced reconnaissance... I will consult with the 3rd Battalion Commander and report back."
"Very well."
> [Communication terminated.]
This reconnaissance had two primary objectives: a live combat test of the blast-proof coating, and a comprehensive assessment of monster movements combined with survivor rescue through full-directional forced reconnaissance. In particular, there might still be survivors in the south, which we had already swept through once. The north and east were obvious, but even the west might harbor a handful of survivors. The south, having been subjected to the army's overwhelming firepower during its advance, would likely have a relatively lower monster density. I held considerable expectations that additional survivors would emerge from that direction.
"If we continue rescuing survivors like this... someday we might be able to cleanse this entire city."
The Ark was currently positioned at the center of a doughnut-shaped urban area surrounding it. Normally, emergency shelters of this kind were built far from city centers, but the Ark was too large a facility to conceal, and it had been constructed under the design philosophy that even in extreme situations where roads were destroyed and large-scale civilian movement became impossible, people must still be able to reach it. That choice had proven correct, and we were reaping its benefits now. Had the Ark been built in some remote mountain region, we would never have been able to extract survivors from the city in such a short time, nor could we have accommodated 7,400 refugees in the first place. Moreover, once we had driven every monster from the city, we could construct walls encircling the entire urban area with the Ark at its center, creating a livable space for humanity even on the surface. That grand plan had already been stored in the Ark's mainframe from the beginning.
To realize that vision, however, people were needed above all else. The Ark's current population numbered roughly 27,000. That might suffice if we intended only to survive within its confines, but it was woefully inadequate for rebuilding a fallen nation and civilization. Every Ark had been designed with the survival and revival of human civilization in mind, including technologies to restore barren land and methods for producing suitable seeds. We could even synthesize livestock—pigs, cattle, chickens, sheep—whose genomes had all been mapped, though they were lesser than humans. Of course, many of those functions required a population large enough to consume their output, which was why even the cultured meat facilities remained inactive while we satisfied our carnivorous cravings with fish.
After finishing today's bland, unremarkable meal and just as the robot was clearing the dishes, a transmission arrived from the commander.
"Controller, is now a good time to speak?"
"Ah, it is."
I quickly wiped my mouth with a handkerchief.
"After consulting with Lieutenant Colonel Keller, we have determined that the operation cannot begin any sooner than two days from now."
"Two days?"
"Yes. The painting work is not yet fully complete, and since this is our first large-scale operation, time is needed for training and coordination."
"Well, that is only to be expected. I will grant you three days. Make sure the operation can be executed by then."
"Understood. Also, regarding the non-commissioned officer promotion list you mentioned last time... I believe you will need to review it, Your Excellency."
"Understood. I will examine it."
"Yes. Then..."
> [Communication terminated. The non-commissioned officer promotion list has arrived from the Defense Bureau.]
I displayed the list on the hologram and scrolled through it, examining each face one by one. Some looked docile, others sharp. A few appeared dull. In total, there were two hundred names. Considering the total combat personnel numbered around 6,400, this was a substantial number of promotions. After reviewing the entire list and finding no obvious disqualifications, I affixed my electronic signature and returned the data to the Defense Bureau. With this, military discipline could be considered more or less restored... or so I wanted to believe. I knew people's minds did not change in an instant, but the situation left no room to account for every individual reaction.
.....
"'No room,' huh..."
Suddenly, the phrase grated on me. It was the same excuse politicians trotted out whenever they broke their promises. No resources. No money. No time. No space. No manpower. No technology. The words "no room" carried a multitude of meanings. And among those many meanings, "I will do it later" was never one of them. After all, it was a phrase typically used as a shield. How long would the Ark's citizens continue to accept "no room" as an excuse? I did not believe everyone would think rationally. Being able to speak did not guarantee communication, after all. Once we had rescued all the survivors from the north and east, would the situation improve? No, it would not. That would mark the true beginning. Since we could no longer easily replenish manpower, gathering more people would require breaking through the city, which in turn demanded eliminating the enormous number of monsters swarming within it. With over one hundred million confirmed entities, how could we possibly deal with those mad creatures without casualties? And from that point onward, the truly messy political struggles within the Ark would begin in earnest. Those who wanted to slaughter every last monster and restore humanity to greatness. Those who believed we could never defeat the monsters and should simply live safely inside the Ark. And the cherry-pickers who contributed no voice of their own yet despised being dragged into the fight while desperately craving the spoils of victory. Just imagining those people raising their voices already made my head feel ready to burst.