15 The Day of Final Battle 2

The greatest obstacle to forming a united front between the Third Fleet and the people of Terminus was the matter of command structure.

Basic communication had been established; both sides recognized that the other possessed at least some degree of intelligence and shared a common understanding.

Yet mutual comprehension remained elusive. There was no time for it.

Under such conditions, one side attempting to command the other was untenable.

After all, the people of Terminus revered strength above all.

Among them, only a select few—such as Jin and Kou—were acknowledged, and even Jin, the highest-ranking, was limited to the rank of Captain—essentially, command of a single unit.

They would never accept orders from officers with broader strategic vision.

But even that solution presented issues.

They were all fighters who operated at the front lines.

Assigning messenger duties in the middle of combat would inevitably lower performance on the front lines.

A downed pilot would deal a severe blow to command structure and morale alike.

Then the opposite. The Black Knight, Edelweiss, leader of the Terminus forces, takes command of the entire operation.

The resistance from the convoy side was strong as well.

Even if they managed to overcome it, their methods of combat were fundamentally incompatible from the start.

Attempting to break through the enemy lines with the same instinctive sense of individual combat effectiveness as the Terminas people—whether for good or ill—was never going to succeed.

From their perspective, regular soldiers differed too greatly from themselves to know how best to deploy them.

In the end, neither choice seemed likely to result in a proper fight.

Thus, it became necessary to reference the sole existing example.

That is to say.

Incoming, Edelweiss! Flank from nine o’clock! We’ll hit them head-on!

Understood.

Operational separation of both forces.

A pincer maneuver, thus.

How to secure communications remained an issue—yet the Terminus people resolved it effortlessly.

They were, after all, beings accustomed to digital code-based dialogue.

They had even remarked that transmitting through communication channels was easier than vocalizing themselves.

Thanks to this, humanity’s side could continue conversing as before, without change.

In the hangar, moments before launch, Jin conducted final checks on the unit while confirming last details with Edelweiss.

This time, they had remained attached to the defensive fleet until the very last moment—but now, separate operations began.

In some cases, communications might be disrupted.

It was necessary to confirm basic movements in advance.

‘Confirming: once we break through, we take back the child directly. That is acceptable?’

‘Yes. Retrieving Mio comes first.’

Stopping the Laitera Project.

That is the fundamental premise of the operation.

Even if the Harold Fleet is completely destroyed, the entire effort would be undone should the Laitera Project succeed.

Ideally, one would know which ship serves as the project’s core.

It would have been better to learn this from Chi, but she remains unconscious and critically injured.

Ironically, her cybernetic enhancements prevent the nanomachine treatments dominant in the Third Fleet from being administered.

Moreover, no one possesses knowledge of cybernetics sufficient to provide effective treatment.

Currently, she remains alive only through the mechanical integration she now embodies.

A cybernetics specialist from the Second Fleet is scheduled to be summoned for treatment, but waiting for that would allow the Laitera Project to be completed.

Thus, it was expected that the battle would unfold while simultaneously investigating which ship Mio is aboard.

‘Likely, the vessel is that one.’

With the words, Edelweiss uploaded information to the data link.

The presence of a critical target was disseminated to all units.

‘It’s faint—barely perceptible—but I sense her presence.’

‘...And they’re clearly fortifying it.’

Multiple unfamiliar, satellite-like units were deployed in formation.

‘Additional defense… or perhaps interception.’

‘We will breach the enemy lines and secure that vessel.’

‘Ah, that’s what I’m counting on.’

For Jin, that was the most expedient plan.

If the Third Fleet reached it first, he could not guarantee they would not destroy the ship and all aboard.

This battle was nominally an operation to rescue the next queen of the Terminas people, abducted by the Second Fleet and forced to participate in brutal experiments.

Yet the higher command already knew the general outline of the Laitera Project.

If stopping it is the top priority, sinking the ship Mio is on would be the shortest path.

Of course, doing so would inevitably trigger war with the Terminus people.

Jin does not believe anyone would resort to such a measure, abandoning all the favorable conditions presented.

Yet without stopping the Laitera Project, the agreement means nothing.

He might choose to prioritize stopping it, even at the cost of total ruin.

Most importantly, the timing of the deadline remains unknown to them.

They will know when it ends.

When the Reactor—taken from the original Queen—begins operation.

The enemy will not count down the time for them, so its arrival remains uncertain. Fear of it might drive someone to act prematurely.

Considering that possibility, the Third Fleet would be better off staying at a distance, keeping the enemy separated.

At first glance, they appear to share the same objective, yet the difference is subtle—this is the crux of the matter.

After finalizing minor operational details, communication with Edelweiss concluded.

In the quiet cockpit, Jin reflects alone.

This might be his final sortie.

The thought triggered an odd laugh.

He recalls thinking the same thing before battling the super-sized variant.

And yet—here he is, still fighting.

And even after this battle ends, it will not truly end.

Perhaps he will remain on the battlefield until he can no longer move, Jin thinks.

"…Familiarization flight: ten hours… I’d have preferred a bit more, but…"

The craft Jin currently occupies is not the Raven.

It is a transport variant Griffon, modified using components from Chi’s Griffon, currently under review by the Third Fleet.

Nearly identical specs to Second Fleet standard—specifically designed for cyborgs.

"...Well, in any case, the nanomachines are nearly depleted. Can't be used that many times."

Jin chose doping to endure the机体's performance, which only a cyborg could withstand.

Physical enhancement using illegal nanomachines previously prescribed to May.

Only confiscated nanomachines from the past incident remained, leading to the conclusion that sustained operation was impossible.

Original spare parts were already scarce. The unit would become inoperable after just a few combat engagements.

That is acceptable.

Still, it is true that more time should be allocated for transition training.

The aircraft is already difficult to handle, and now with the reactor reload mechanism and overlight unit installed at Shirley's request—balance is exceptionally poor.

There are concerns, but now there is nothing to do but manage during the actual operation.

Nano-machines have already been injected prior to deployment.

The prescribed dosage is said to maintain effectiveness for thirty-six hours.

In exchange, telomeres sustain damage, potentially shortening lifespan by approximately one month.

One never knows at what age they will die, anyway. It might be better to consider this a minor cost.

It is said that injecting a larger quantity would reduce the impact on lifespan relative to duration of effect, but such a quantity does not exist.

"Captain. How is the aircraft?"

"...Hard to say. No abnormalities detected, but I'm not fully accustomed to the Griffin either."

"I feel the same. Honestly, I cannot send it out with complete confidence."

Just as Jin had not had sufficient time to acclimate to the Griffin, Shirley had not had sufficient time to understand it either.

Even she, who claimed to understand every line of the program governing the Raven’s systems, found the Griffin to be a different matter entirely.

This might be the first time they’d both launched with such mutual uncertainty.

“…Hey, Jin. Have you reached a decision?”

Mio or Shirley.

Right now, her body moved to save Mio.

But was that truly what she wanted from the heart?

Wasn’t she just letting herself be carried by circumstance?

At the final moment—what choice would she make?

That answer, Jin—

“Don’t know.”

Still hasn’t come.

Of course not.

Those two were never meant to be weighed against one another. Never meant to be weighed at all.

Yet the technology of Laitera—god or demon—forces the scales to tilt.

“…I don’t think I’ll feel settled until I’ve spoken with both of them.”

“Jin…”

That, he knew, was impossible.

A faint, silent smile touched his lips at the unspoken words.

I understand. You're saying something foolish.

That was why he entrusted the assault on Edelweiss to her.

Jin fears making decisions himself.

He wants someone else to decide for him.

Because that is only natural.

To cut off the possibility of survival for one person—by his own hand.

He still could not bear that, no matter what.