The Path to Ark No. 23 (4)
"Searchlight!" Click!Flash!
The heavy searchlight they had prepared in advance was mounted on the light machine gun. They had wanted to bring a heavy machine gun, but that would have meant splitting the ammunition, leaving them short on rifle rounds, and it would have reduced their mobility. The light machine gun, which used the same 8mm ammunition as their rifles, was better suited for this mission.
As the searchlight blazed to life, a faint spark of vitality returned to the faces of the detachment members. In this darkness, the light cast by humans held value in itself. But light always draws moths. The moment it illuminated the space, the monsters—almost as if phototactic—began shrieking and charging toward the control room.
-Kreeeeaaak!!!-
"Open fire!"
Tatatatatatatata-!
The staccato roar of the machine gun filled the underground chamber. Inside this cramped control room, sixty—no, forty-three—soldiers were gathered. The instant that narrow entrance was breached, they would be torn apart by tentacles and blades.
"Right side. Turn the valve to the right!"
"Urrgh...!"
"Damn it! The valve's rusted shut... Cyan! Give me that lubricant you were carrying!"
"...Cyan died thirty minutes ago."
"...Shit! Move! I'll do it!"
While the soldiers on the firing line held the monsters back, the others tried to operate the manual valves to control the water pipes. But a year and three months after humanity's fall, the consequences of leaving heavy iron valves untouched for so long were obvious—especially when constantly exposed to moisture. Even with powered exoskeletons, the massive valves built to sustain an enormous population had rusted beyond the soldiers' strength.
Creak... creak... creak...!
"Stop! The valve's going to snap!"
The rust also meant the valves themselves had lost structural integrity. Forcing them could break them entirely and doom the mission. After agonizing over the problem, the soldiers chose their last resort.
"Ready?"
"Yeah. Going now!"
"Covering fire! Covering fire!"
-Kreeeeeeek!!!!-
Tudududududu-!Boom!
Leaving the machine-gun fire and rocket impacts behind, the soldiers sprinted out and began searching the corpses of their fallen comrades for lubricant. The lubricant issued for weapon maintenance had other uses, and many soldiers carried extra for exactly this kind of situation.
"Found some!"
"Here's another!"
"I got one too...! Let's head back. This should be enough."
After a harrowing round trip, the detachment returned with three cans of lubricant. While the machine-gun crews swapped glowing barrels and ammunition, the rest of the soldiers poured rifle fire and grenades into the advancing monsters.
Thud! Thud-thud!Ping-!
"Grenade!"
Boom!
Just as the last grenade's echo faded, the machine gun's barrel and ammunition were replenished. It roared back to life.
Clack! Click! Thunk!
"Reload complete!"
Tudududududududu-!
"Hurry, hurry, hurry!"
"Stop rushing me!"
The sight of five or six soldiers clinging to the rusted valve and pouring lubricant over it was almost comical, yet their faces were deadly serious. If they failed to turn this valve, they would die. The mission would fail. And that would mean more of their comrades would have to die to complete it.
Creak... creak...!
"It's moving! It's turning!"
"Slowly... slowly... If the valve breaks, we're finished."
Creak... creak... creak...
Once the rust began to flake away, progress became rapid. The thunderous rush of water inside the massive pipe gradually diminished—the first small sign that the mission was succeeding.
Creak. Clunk!
"Done! All valves are shut!"
"All of them?!"
"Prepare to withdraw! Grab the machine gun, change magazines, get ready to move!"
"I hope the surface team is still holding..."
With the valves secured, the machine-gun crews dismounted their weapons. The riflemen checked their chambers and reloaded. Then, without a backward glance, they began their retreat in reverse order.
*
"Huff... huff... huff..."
Neural fatigue detected.
Adrenaline 3cc injected.
Beep!Hiss!
"Hraaaagh! Aaaaaagh!"
Thududung!
-Keeeee...-
The surface was hell. The half-ruined control center was buried in sand that had burst from the sandbags. After hours of brutal fighting, the soldiers' exhausted bodies were kept moving by combat stimulants pumped from their exoskeletons.
Thud! Thud-thud!Shuuu... Boom!
"Shen Shun! How many rockets left?!"
"Uh... twenty-three—no, twenty-two!"
"Conserve them! We don't know when the next resupply will come!"
"What am I supposed to do when those big bastards keep showing up?!"
The greatest threat to the surface team was the massive monsters capable of destroying an entire firing position in a single strike. Most died to a direct hit from an anti-tank rocket, but some survived two or three, and every wasted rocket meant less ammunition for the rest. The Carrier had already made three emergency resupply runs, and the Sweepers had napalmed the streets more than ten times to clear firing lanes. With casualties mounting past twenty dead, the remaining forty soldiers were stretched to the breaking point.
"Underground! Hey! Something's coming up from below!"
"What... what is it? Monsters?"
"No, no! The detachment! The detachment is coming back!"
"Whoa! Fuck! I can't wait to see how many they lost!"
The words were crude, but morale surged at the news that their comrades had completed the mission and survived. One uncertain wait was over. Only one detachment remained below.
*
"Make way! Watch the stretcher!"
"Stay awake, you bastard! We're on the surface now. We're going home!"
"Get the blood packs! He's bleeding out!"
"Blood type... what's his blood type?!"
"Uh... AB!"
The underground detachment had been halved. Of the original sixty, fewer than twenty were still combat-effective. The rest were wounded, more than five of them critically. In short, the company had been annihilated.
"Where's the other detachment?! Did you see them on the way?"
"No idea! We never crossed paths..."
"Shit! How bad is it down there?!"
The sergeant slammed a fist against the wall and stared at the silent radio. Breaking radio silence was dangerous, but they had no other choice. Given the state of the returning detachment, silence would not have changed anything anyway.
"Contact the other detachment. Seventh Special Forces Battalion, Alpha Company. Cease radio silence."
"...Understood."
The one-armed radioman operated the set with his remaining hand and called out to the detachment still below.
-Second Detachment! Report your position! Radio silence lifted! Report your position!-
-...Current... twenty...!-
-Signal weak! Repeat. Signal weak! Say again. Do you read me?-
-This is Second Detachment! Mission complete! Repeat, mission complete! Currently withdrawing! David! Leave the wounded behind! Leave them, damn it! ETA to surface approximately twenty minutes. Over!-
-Understood. Move as fast as you can.-
The radio crackled with gunfire, monster roars, and the desperate voices of soldiers being abandoned. The radioman looked at the sergeant, breathing hard. The sergeant clenched his jaw, selected the still-mobile soldiers to plug gaps in the line, and ordered the lightly wounded back underground to set up searchlights so the second detachment could find the entrance.
"Stay sharp! We're almost done!"
The words had barely left his mouth when a shout came from below.
"Sergeant! Second Detachment in sight!"
"Covering fire!"
"Fire!"
Tat-tat-tat!Tudududu!
Splash! Splash!
The sound of soldiers sprinting through the flooded tunnel grew louder, followed by the heavy thudding of pursuing monsters. The sergeant pulled explosives from a dead engineer's pack, slapped them onto the weakest section of the entrance, connected the detonator, and gripped the firing device.
"Move! Get out of the way!"
Moments later, the blood-soaked survivors of the second detachment poured out—ten, twenty... fewer than thirty had made it. The sergeant squeezed his eyes shut, then pressed the detonator the instant the last soldier cleared the threshold.
Click!
Boom!
Thud-thud-thud!
-Kreeeeeeeee!!!!-
Once the collapse was confirmed, the sergeant shoved the unconscious radioman aside and keyed the radio to Ark command.
-Command, this is Seventh Special Forces Battalion, Alpha Company. Mission accomplished. Request immediate extraction.-
-Mission confirmed. How long can you hold?-
The sergeant's tired gaze swept the scene: medics desperately applying tourniquets to spurting wounds, a wounded soldier who had passed out while firing his pistol, machine-gun assistants with tentacles still embedded in their throats. Tears welled in his eyes.
-The unit is destroyed.-
-Alpha Company... out of one hundred sixty personnel, one hundred KIA, seven seriously wounded, thirty lightly wounded. Remaining forces incapable of continued combat. Company annihilated. Repeat... Alpha Company... annihilated. Incapable of continued combat. Immediate extraction requested. Over.-
-...Acknowledged. Hold position.-
Survival probability: 44.52%.
When he had first heard the number, he had thought it far too low. But as exhaustion finally dragged him to the ground, the sergeant understood. 44.52% had been an absurdly optimistic estimate.