New Weaponry (1)

After the honey-sweet holiday ended, people returned to their workplaces. They had to keep the Ark's economy circulating and raise their children. Though it was the morning commute, the week-long rest had clearly not been wasted—their faces showed no trace of fatigue. That was a good sign for me. It meant the citizens of Ark No. 17 had fully regained their vitality. Times like these were perfect for launching difficult operations; they would finish more smoothly that way.

"Then it's time to move the military," I muttered, projecting a holographic map of Ark No. 17. At last, the moment had come to head toward Ark No. 23, still shrouded in mystery and uncertainty.

I couldn't tell ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠whether the survivors in Sieberstadt had simply been unaware of the other Arks or had chosen to ignore them. But once a Controller entered an ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Ark, they should have made every effort to locate nearby survivors. The complete absence of such efforts was strange. The Sieberstadt survivors had given me the frequencies of the other Arks, yet without knowing Ark No. 23's situation, I couldn't risk attempting contact. There was always the danger of drawing monsters to them. If they were already surrounded, any attempt to reach them would only make things worse.

That meant I would have to deploy the gunship unit once again—the most effective asset I had.

"In that case, the gunship unit will have to take the lead again. Connect me to the Defense Bureau Command."

Ark No. 23 was the closest to Ark No. 17. Whether it was still operating normally or whether its Controller and everyone else had failed to evacuate, I had no way of knowing. If no one had escaped, Ark No. 23 would remain dormant for a very long time.

"Ah, Commander Alphonso. The time has finally come. Prepare to move on Ark No. 23."

"Good."

Once word spread that Ark No. 23 existed and was relatively close, people began to wonder if their relatives might have taken shelter there. It wasn't mere wishful thinking—the Arks had been built for exactly that purpose. If friends and family thought long dead were still alive, the joy would be immense. The distance made travel between Arks difficult due to labor shortages and other constraints, but the difference between alive and dead was literally heaven and earth.

"I hope they're still alive..."

Whether Ark No. 23 was functioning normally would greatly affect civilian morale. The gap between "this one seems to have collapsed too" and "this one appears to still be operating" was too large to ignore. Getting the first button right mattered. The problem was that the hand buttoning it wouldn't be ours.

"Remember—do not engage the monsters unnecessarily. If you find survivors, prioritize their rescue. If you determine that continuing the mission is impossible due to fuel, ammunition, or aircraft damage, return to the Ark immediately. Understood?"

"""Yes, sir!"""

The pilots were highly trained personnel. Coldly speaking, bringing more people into Ark No. 17 was more important than confirming Ark No. 23's status. Risking lives on an adventure was brave, but in the current situation it bordered on recklessness.

"The distance between Ark No. 23 and Ark No. 17 is approximately 200 kilometers. A single mistake and you won't make it back. Train thoroughly!"

"""Yes, sir!"""

Flying straight to Ark No. 23 would have been madness, so the pilots participating in the operation began training for ultra-long-range flights exceeding 200 kilometers—something without precedent. It wasn't just the fuel burden; they had to endure the extreme fatigue of a round trip exceeding 400 kilometers while also dealing with monsters and survivors along the way. Naturally, the existing gunships couldn't handle such distances, so engineers modified them by expanding fuel tanks and replacing the fuel with a specially compressed variant to reduce volume. Only then did the aircraft meet operational requirements.

"Ugh... my eyes... are closing..."

"Gyaaah!"

Training was proving difficult. No pilot could withstand the sheer distance of 400 kilometers, no matter how hard they tried. Especially since they weren't just flying—they also had to handle monsters attacking midway and rescue survivors. The farthest any pilot had managed was around 330–340 kilometers. There was, however, one solution: put two pilots in each gunship. Though the craft were single-seaters, carrying one extra person was trivial. That the Defense Bureau leadership hadn't considered such a simple fix showed how rigid their thinking had become.

In any case, the problem was solved. Now all that remained was to head for Ark No. 23... or so it seemed.

Even with gunships, reaching Ark No. 23, 200 kilometers southeast of Ark No. 17, was dangerous and required prior reconnaissance. If an anti-air monster burst from the building ruins, the consequences would be catastrophic.

The chain gun of the lead aircraft swept across the area, but the monsters showed no sign of decreasing. If this many creatures ever reached the wall under construction, the result would be horrific. Even now, monsters drawn by the Ark's and gunships' communications were racing along roads and rooftops, trying to catch up.

Boom! Boom!

Explosions from the anti-air monsters' shells detonated near Aircraft 33 as if fitted with delay fuses, but the damage was minimal. Its nose chain gun soon tore the creatures apart. The blast-resistant coating had done its job once again.

The path to Ark No. 23 was far too long, and Ark No. 17's military strength was far too weak to clear it. The biggest problem was opening the route. As the engagement with anti-air monsters by Squadron 2 showed, such creatures infested the path. With expanded fuel tanks making the modified gunships heavier and survivors to carry as well, their maneuverability would drop to a snail's pace.

"Is there no other way?"

While speaking with Commander Alphonso of the Defense Bureau, I realized something. Simply fielding more gunships would no longer let us dominate the skies. The time had come when new weaponry was necessary.

"...Understood. It seems we need new aircraft. The gunship is called a gunship, but it's really closer to a transport plane."

"Even if it slows wall construction further, we'll have to build at least a small airfield and produce aerial refueling aircraft somehow. We'll also develop a new type of gunship that minimizes transport capacity and emphasizes mobility and firepower. That should open a path eventually."

"The Ark won't collapse so easily. You can trust me. We won't be able to contact Ark No. 23 this year, but we must avoid small gains that lead to large losses. The longer the journey, the more we must take the roundabout route."

"Haa..."

I let out a short sigh, then drew in another breath. The air was plain and clean. What taste and scent did the air outside the Ark carry? I didn't know. The soldiers all wore gas masks, so perhaps no one did. Still, compared to the vibrant, life-filled days of the past, it must feel far more stifling and heavy.

What must the pilots flying through that sky be feeling? To soar while seeing skyscrapers that once rose dozens of kilometers high reduced to concrete tombs, and streets once lit by electricity now burning with napalm... ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠They truly were elites.

"Artificial intelligence."

"Begin design of the airfield and the attack-type gunship."