A loud, painful clang echoed through the air.
It was the sound of Falken being knocked down to the ground along with his exoskeleton, groaning in pain under the combined weight of his own body and armor.
“That’s enough for today!”
“Ah, thank you very… much…”
With that, he seemed to faint, becoming completely motionless.
“What the hell, what a wimp! He passes out after just being thrown around two or three times. That’s basic anti-armor technique you know!”
“Captain, antique human bodies aren’t designed to withstand instantaneous 7G impacts,” remarked Selene.
“True, Selene, but even old combat aircraft could handle 9Gs, and pros would add impact by slamming them into the ground. If he can’t handle the G-forces from a simple throw while wearing an exoskeleton, he won’t survive actual combat.”
“First of all, this Type C-II prosthetic body wasn’t designed for combat. The Type A models can crush empty cans like they’re nothing. We need him to refine his swordsmanship so he isn’t so easily grabbed.”
“Damn, that was brutal… How many times did he endure?”
“Three times. Much better than on the first day though.”
In the fresh morning air, Ridelberdy approached, also wearing an exoskeleton and sweating profusely. Having trained extensively, mud stains on his armor indicated they had been practicing close combat.
“But wow, you’re incredibly brutish. You’re throwing around people with gear armor like rag dolls, even against a fellow soldier!”
“Can you really become a soldier if you flinch at something like this? Our job was to dodge under a barrage of bullets and destroy enemy anti-aircraft installations.”
“What the hell kind of insane operation is that? That’s basically called suicide normally, isn’t it?”
“It’s standard doctrine in the Unified Army. Deploying tactical weapons at high altitudes and supersonic speeds to evade interception, then overrunning anti-aircraft positions. It’s been a golden go-to plan for securing air superiority before transitioning to mop-up operations.”
“The ones we truly fear are the transport ship pilots who carry us. Known as ‘Special Attack Men,’ they’re revered for their reckless avoidance maneuvers and approach vectors. Their mortality rates were high – though technically, since their skulls are recovered later, they aren’t really dead”
“In comparison, we, who are protected by sturdy armor or carried aboard such ships, even if they explode, have it much safer relative to them.”
“Captain, with all due respect, the upgrade in the factory section is complete; we’re ready for your inspection.”
“Ah, good work, Selene. Let’s go once this is done.”
Without breaking a sweat, he flipped over the unconscious guards, roughly stripping off their helmets and dousing them with water to restart them.
“Hmm, you guys are improving, but you’re still too stiff. You’re overexerting with the gear armor, letting it dominate you. Swing the sword more compactly, anticipating enemy counterattacks.”
“Yes…Saint.”
Though still somewhat dazed, scanning inside Falken’s eyes confirmed his vitals and brainwaves were normal. It’s really convenient now that I have an eye capable of conducting biological scans without relying on Selene alone.
It’s crucial in live combat training not to kill but also not to leave them too alive. In VR training, a soldier could be killed hundreds of times literally. With the pain of death included.
Compared to that, I’m softer than the simulator instructors. These guys try to genuinely stab you sometimes.
“Be sure to stretch and rest well. I’m going to see the Great Mother.”
“Understood…wait, wake up, don’t die! Didn’t I endure the Saint’s personal training for you to brag about?”
With a light gait, leaving the guards behind who were trying to wake their friends, he entered the great mother’s domain. Compared to the time of intrusion, the ship had been thoroughly cleaned, and the stakes were re-planted neatly. Climbing it was smooth and easy.
Upon entering the section of the factory designated for his use, it was clear that it had been significantly renovated. The material input port had been automated, and the output port had been expanded to handle more complex and larger items. This must be thanks to the spare parts manufactured in the factory district of the Holy Capital, allowing the repairs of certain disablement measures implemented by Navy Lieutenant Terada, the previous captain of the Tiamat 25, for information security reasons.
A side of construction machinery lined up beside it showed that after rough assembly here, the complete line would move out through the transport exit to finish completion outside the ship.
I rarely got too deeply involved myself, but my synchronized partner went crazy for factory simulation VR. I still remember his manic eyes when he was on solo planetary terraforming or the time he was preparing equipment A to produce equipment B and C while planning for materials D, E, and F to be produced for that.
Come to it, he eventually went into the logistics department due to his passion. They say it’s a hellish division where calculations consume one’s life arranging complex trade routes, but I wonder if he’s still out there happily delivering supplies to all the collection points.
“Whoa, it’s gotten bigger!”
“Officially, we can at least produce mid-sized equipment based on Unified Army plans. But we’re still short of characters to fight the Giant Dragons.”
The three-dimensional molding machine let out a loud alert as its ejector port opened and a conveyor belt extended, moving a large quantity of bullets out.
The newly designed small-caliber bullets for coil rifles, modest in power at 2,500 joules, but with their compact size allowed fifty rounds to be packed in the magazine. The rifles themselves had already been packed by a container on the side, ready to be transported.
“But for you, that’s quite a quirky weapon…”
“There’s no time for fancy touches when prioritizing suppressive firepower. Besides, I’ve never had any whimsical designs introduced anyway?”
While saying so, the “submachine gun” type coil rifle retrieved from the container was somewhat… yes, somewhat tasteful in form.
The main body extended forward in front of the pistol grip, taking on a familiar T-shaped form, but turned out to be quite top-heavy due to cooling and impact absorption mechanisms embedded around the gun barrel.
Furthermore, the gun’s front didn’t feature a familiar banana-shaped magazine but adopted a cylindrical magazine akin to a soda bottle—a helical magazine.
This design concept, aimed at compact size despite packing more ammunition in a cylindrical body by helically storing bullets, originated from the literature of the so-called “former communist bloc.”
It was said these didn’t become widespread due to the manufacturing costs incurred by complicated structural designs and interference from action springs, making installation troublesome, but appeared to be quite practical for the coil gun with a distinct feeding method, as personally chosen by Selene.
She remarked that the lifeblood of submachine guns was suppressive power, so accuracy could be covered by firing plenty of bullets.
“Ahhh!!”
Another peculiar sound came about, which upon matching voice patterns, turned out to be Galatea. Investigating the adjacent area revealed her growling while wielding the submachine gun in front of a holotarget at the makeshift shooting range.
“It’s not hitting! This is infuriating!!”
That’s right, I remember, Galatea was heavily trained in close combat by her previous commanding officer, and this morning’s training rotated to shooting.
And now she’s using the helical-mag coil gun on full automatic, missing wildly.
“Take a look at it.”
“Wh-what?! Nozomu?!”
The gun with the empty magazine was snatched from the side and reloaded. Ah, I see, this top-heavy design is adjusted for Sylvanians or Tech Gobs’ posture. They tend to run leaning forward, so this was considered less obstructive when running.
“First, extend the stock.”
The skeleton-style stock, which folded neatly along the main body, was extended and positioned to the shoulder. As it lacked a control system, aiming had to be done with spirit, but it seemed feasible enough.
“Steady the shoulder and use the elbow as a support… shoot.”
The green portion of the holotarget indicating the head turned red indicating a hit when it was struck. Three shots fired in a controlled manner but, thanks to the gun’s weight, the recoil was surprisingly mild. The design considered the weaker skeletons of Sylvanians.
“Ammo should be spread in short bursts, not all at once.”
Three shots were carefully fired for each trigger pull, piercing the head, chest, abdomen, both shoulders, elbows, and hands in sequence. Finally, the aim was adjusted to the groin area, and the trigger was held down utilizing the recoil to conclude the firing upwards.
“And for bursts, aim low and let it rip.”
A loud sound, “Beeep”, rang out as the holotarget, turning completely red, returned to its idle green state.
Hmm, something like that. If the fire control mechanism was installed, this body could hit pinholes with ease, but with spirit aiming, there are naturally some misses.
“Amazing, Nozomu.”
“Eh, you don’t get to become a soldier for fun.”
After confirming there were no remaining bullets in the chamber upon detaching the magazine, the coil rifle was returned to Galatea, who opted for the revolver coil rifle saying it suited her better now, although she couldn’t manage while riding.
“That’s because of vehicle sway, speed…”
During offering advice, I suddenly noticed.
We have the means here to produce prosthetic parts, and Galatea has an embedded second brain.
Shouldn’t she take this opportunity to formally connect and become more mechanized?
“Hey Galatea, how about coming together with me?”
“Huh?”
Grasping her hand and gazing deeply into her eyes, I proposed.
It seems a crucial decision in life for old humans, so I must seriously woo her.
“That’s quite good. There’ll be no fussing, just glance at the ceiling and it’ll be over…”
“Captain!!”
“What the…?!”
Getting smacked on the back of my head, I turned around to see Selene’s humanoid frame holding the empty magazine. Her distorted facial expression and furious tapping of her free hand indicated her significant anger…
“Isn’t that going a bit too far?!?”
“You’re using language that toys with a maiden’s heart! Can’t you normally just ask her to consider mechanization?”
“Huh? E? What… m-me, mechanization?”
So why beat me up for real? A human’s skull could easily crack with such force…
“There’s equipment here that can safely mechanize, so I just thought…”
“Galatea, how about utilizing your secondary brain to install some shooting software? I imagine that’ll drastically improve your accuracy.”
“Oh, w-w-what, m-m-mechanization… You mean me, be like the Gear Priests?”
“That’s not a great deal. Just injecting a swarm of micro-machines to connect your nervous system, then maybe adding a retinal monitor or two.”
“B-but… What a strange invitation this early in the morning…”
I picked up the barely audible muttering thanks to the high-sensitivity auditory sensors, but what’s wrong with promoting mechanization? Time of day isn’t relevant, it’s about necessity.
“But, is it alright? In the Magius Geanaite, it’s only permitted for high-ranked knights to have terminal openings?”
“Nobody will complain if it’s to protect the Saints, right?”
“…If it means I can better protect you…”
After closing her eyes for a moment, as if reflecting on something, she spoke.
“I’ll open the terminal. I never, ever, want to hold your severed head again!”
Ah, whatever it is, quite a resolve.
Look, it’s a rather easy procedure in some places, akin to getting an ear pierced. Just a single needleless injection, and you’ll be resting for half a day.
“How about mechanizing joints or even the skeleton? With expandable titanium alloys, you won’t worry about breaking bones even if run over by Gear Caliber.”
“Captain, even if the bones survive, your insides will go insane.”
“Are the internal organs still beyond our equipment capabilities?”
“I-I don’t have the resolve to discard so many parts yet!?”
Oh, waste not, want not. I’ve been thinking this all along – not using software on a secondary brain is like having a luxury gaming computer and only playing solitaire.
Besides, they’re already partially mechanized. Having photons embedded in the body counts as moderate alteration. Installing software via additional terminals is the light modification.
“Really, you should trust me! I’m appointing you, placing my trust in you!”
“I know, I know. Your right hand won’t turn into a drill when you wake up. So, rest assured.”
“Drill?! Why a drill?!”
As I escorted her while patting her shoulder, Galatea kept yelling throughout but honestly, it’s not like I’ll do something that absurd.
If only boys were piling bunkers…!
[Planetary Exploration Notes] Considering the insertion of things that typically don’t appear on the body is considered high-ranking in public institutions, one could argue that Galatea is already mechanized under normal human standards.
The next update is planned around 15:00 on 2024/08/11.
