The Rescue Operation
"If that's the case, we'll need to draw up a rescue operation. Transporting ten thousand people by air is no small feat. It will delay the barrier construction for a while, but realistically, there's no way to extract them without gunships."
"What about using ground routes?"
"Half the ground forces would be dead before we even clear a path to Sieberstadt. There were already millions of them gathered in the city before we burned it. The area outside is far larger. Besides, the city had little vegetation, so mutated plants weren't much of a problem there. But it's obvious these creatures' genes affect plants too. We might be looking at swarms of massive carnivorous flora."
"Damn it. The thought of man-eating plants crawling over the mountains is enough to make me sick. Still, we have a week. That should be enough. With that many people, the real issue will be boarding time. From what I've gathered, Sieberstadt had around 1.4 million residents. Excluding other survivors, that means at least 1.39 million monsters. Holding them off while loading that many people is going to be extremely difficult."
"On the map, the comms tower sits on the city's outskirts, on high ground, so the survivors should be able to defend it. But that's also its weakness. There's nowhere to land large numbers of helicopters. The gunships will have to circle and wait, which burns fuel fast. If there are anti-air monsters or mutated plants, we can't guarantee a full extraction."
Though called an emergency meeting, the Defense Bureau and Security Bureau dominated the discussion given the stakes, while the others offered only brief comments on how to handle the survivors once they arrived.
"So what do we do? I'll say this upfront—we can't initiate contact from our end. The radio waves from the Ark would blanket all of Sieberstadt. Over a million monsters would swarm the comms tower in an instant."
At my question, everyone fell silent. Even in the 22nd century, large-scale aerial transport over mountainous terrain remained a formidable challenge. The comms tower likely had a helipad, but moving ten thousand people would require at least a hundred helicopters. Sending them in small groups while unknown threats lurked felt far too risky.
"If only we had aerial refueling tankers..."
"Ah... you're right. With those, we could send the helicopters without worrying about fuel."
The absence of aerial refueling tankers, which would allow prolonged flight operations, was keenly felt. Fixed-wing aircraft like tankers required long runways and couldn't operate from within the Ark, but now that we could build runways freely, we could field them if we had the blueprints and materials. Unfortunately, time was not on our side. With only a week remaining, even if we managed to construct a runway, building tankers and training pilots was impossible.
"I'll leave this to Defense Bureau Director Alfonso Hayek. I know recruitment has increased your workload, but this is fundamentally a military matter."
"Understood, sir. I'll confer with my unit commanders and report back."
In the end, I chose to delegate. I was an administrative official, not a military advisor.
*
Tutata-tatata!
"Something else happening? Why's it so noisy these days?"
A sentry grumbled as he listened to the sound of rotors. Gunships had been flying over the Ark far more frequently lately, and supply runs by truck had increased in proportion.
"You still don't know? We got a distress call from Sieberstadt. Over ten thousand people, they say."
Another sentry sighed as he explained the sudden surge in gunship activity.
"Ten thousand? Does that mean we have to go there?"
The first sentry flinched at the words. He'd enlisted expecting no more large-scale battles, only to face combat again so soon. Seeing his alarm, his colleague laughed and replied.
"Nah. Word is they're using gunships for the job."
"Really? Then we won't have to fight. Good."
The soldiers relaxed once they realized their own lives weren't on the line, though as fresh recruits who had only just completed basic training, no one could blame them. They would face the monsters soon enough anyway. Strictly speaking, gunships belonged to the Army Aviation Corps, but most infantry didn't know such details—and arguing that aircraft in the sky shouldn't count as army assets was difficult anyway.
After meeting with his subordinate commanders, Commander Alfonso concluded that the best option was to send multiple gunships in sequence, forming an aerial chain. It might look like a makeshift plan, but there was no alternative. Cramming over a hundred gunships at once wouldn't allow proper landings and would only hinder a rapid withdrawal while complicating communications and movement. Sending them one by one risked total loss if any were shot down. Grouping them into manageable formations for simultaneous escort and transport was the only viable approach.
At a glance it seemed haphazard, but given that gunships were the Ark's only available air assets and that ground forces couldn't be deployed to a city 110 kilometers away surrounded by mountains, the plan was the best that could be managed.
*
Time passed. On the sixth day after the first contact, a transmission arrived from Sieberstadt. A hologram materialized, revealing a woman whose face had grown gaunt, exhaustion etched deep, her eyes filled with dread for the future.
"Controller, tomorrow is the day the rescue team is scheduled to arrive. Are your preparations complete?"
"We're ready on this end. How about you?"
She hesitated at my reply before speaking again.
"Well... more people gathered than expected. It's not exact, but around thirteen thousand have assembled. Can you transport them all?"
So three thousand more had appeared. She was asking whether we could handle the increase. They likely knew of the Ark's existence but had no real sense of its capacity, viewing it as little more than a large shelter.
"Don't worry. Ark No. 17 can house 1.6 million people. Even with thirteen thousand added, our population will still be under one hundred thousand. Focus on tomorrow. We'll need to load people onto the helicopters as quickly as possible."
"Understood. We'll be waiting. By the way... are there many monsters near the Ark as well?"
"There were. We killed them all. It's safe now."
"H-how did you kill them all?"
"We napalmed the entire city. Anything that charged through the flames was wiped out with machine guns, autocannons, and mortars. We took heavy losses too—over two thousand dead. So steel yourselves. There are no free rides in this Ark."
At my cold words, her lips began to tremble. The survivors of Sieberstadt had likely endured this harrowing journey believing safety awaited them. To me, they were simply labor. There would be children and the elderly unfit for hard work, but even they would contribute in their own ways. Under the imperative of humanity's survival, no one could receive protection without giving something in return. I had repeated this principle many times already.
The 22nd century's productivity had made universal basic income possible, and even before the catastrophe, over sixty percent of people had relied on it for most of their income. Now those without skills or education would have to shoulder the burden of labor, and their fear was understandable.
"Tomorrow will be here soon. Let's meet alive then."
"Understood, sir. I'll see you tomorrow."
But they could not hide in fear. Humanity had retreated to the Arks, but it had not yet been defeated.