Though I authorized the troops to fire at their discretion, I never expected them to go this far.
My view is filled with a weapons control system linked by IFF, showing hazard radii. Apart from a narrow corridor leading from my position to the edge of the forest, everything else is marked in glaring red.
Without mercy, gun turrets from the aircraft and vehicle-mounted guns are unleashing chaos, desperately trying to suppress enemy attacks by firing coil guns into the forest.
As if to increase the pressure, the vehicles that had been holding back begin to advance.
Simultaneously, the counterattack from the forest starts.
“Whoa, we’ve been hit!”
“Are you okay!? It hit the shield!”
“Protect your head and chest!!”
While the infantry, who were disembarking and spreading out, were starting to get hit by counterattacks, arrows ricocheted even from APCs and tanks in motion. Oh, come on, Galatea, this is really going too far. Even now, any path to reconciliation is effectively cut off.
The forest has suffered greatly. This situation is heading directly towards an all-out war.
“Nozomu! Fall back!!”
“I understand!! But really, Galatea, this is overkill!!”
“It’s your life on the line, remember!?”
“Even if a few of those things pierce me, it won’t kill me!!”
Did she not hear my words? Galatea is yelling complaints like a cry, and then fires a fragmentation grenade into the forest to deter the enemy. The impact site explodes violently, and the bullets, having lost their energy, rain down like hail.
I understand her intention to keep the enemy away from me, but it’s disconcerting how close she’s pushing it. Even if the power supply to the main cannon isn’t at its peak because of insufficient equipment, it’s still more than enough to destroy the structure of the target.
“H-Heck, this is insane…”
While crouching and retreating, I suddenly sense something. Though my sensors don’t pick it up, a combination of experience and intuition drives me to move. I just manage to grab a wrist that’s wielding a blade moving dangerously close to my neck.
“Rgh!!”
With my right hand holding the blade steady, I take a half-step back with my left and deliver an elbow strike from behind. It solidly lands, though the impact is incredibly hard—definitely not human. Still, the sensation is odd, a combination of hardness and softness that’s hard to explain.
It isn’t flesh. And yet, it’s not like armor either. Before I can ponder this further, the enemy’s strength wanes after hitting me in the stomach. I seize the moment and execute an unconventional throw. Using their body as leverage, I twist and slam them to the ground with enough force to prevent them from executing a breakfall.
As they hit the ground, a clearer view of their profile is finally revealed.
“H-It’s a humanoid drone?!”
It was an autonomous humanoid machine. Although its silhouette is identical to a human’s, its joints are driven by magnetic-coated magnet servos in spherical forms. The body has grooves from segmented panels, and it’s obvious at first glance that it’s not human.
It’s almost human-like but still distinct enough that one immediately knows it’s not human. This design isn’t something the Higher Union would use; instead, it reminds me of a style preferred by an older faction of humans.
Moreover, this appears to be more suited for domestic services or entertainment rather than combat.
Throwing techniques don’t work effectively on machines, but for a moment, their balancer seemed to malfunction, and they momentarily lost awareness of up and down. However, with an agility impossible for a human, she—her silhouette was slim and feminine—kicks out with incredible force.
I deflect the kick by swinging around the captured wrist and smash down the left arm with an elbow. However, the jaw’s damper absorbs much of the impact, leaving only small cracks on the surface of the armor.
I’m dealing with a simulated soft-armor plating—a situation unprecedented enough to strain even mental processing.
The Yellow Republic typically opposes using drones this similar to humans. Their multi-purpose drones are not fixated on being humanoid; rather, the design avoids being mistaken for humans with box-like frames and multi-legged locomotion. They are equipped with multi-jointed arms for household tasks.
In contrast, the panels, camera lenses, and bamboo-like auditory sensors make it clear that this isn’t human, yet this design is perilously close to violating the Old Solar System Treaty.
The sensation of hitting her feels soft yet extremely hard, hinting at an organic composition beneath.
This resembles the “self-walking landmine,” which was just one step short of an assassin-style humanoid drone, leaving me utterly perplexed.
Using the recoil of her attempted rise, I intercept the momentum. I then proceed with a standard combat technique for fighting cybernetic opponents—joint locks.
I twist her wrist, elbow, and shoulder in succession until I break the connection. At the same time, a kick disables the elbow joint of her free left arm.
It’s like handling a crab; you twist the joint in a direction it’s not meant to go.
“!!”
…Did she feel pain? Did this drone just display signs of pain?!
I’m seized by astonishment. Such weapons typically aren’t equipped with nociception; they usually just register damage numerically through sensors.
Because it’s more reasonable not to. Both fear and pain perception are unnecessary for a weapon, as they could only hinder movement.
Yet this humanoid drone, whose silhouette looks strikingly similar to that of an elf, appeared to exhibit a sign of pain.
Curious, I seize the relatively heavy body.
I hoist it onto my shoulder, grab both feet, restrain her movements, and press onward through the protective fire while aiming for the forest’s exterior.
What on earth is happening here?
“Huh…!?”
Just as we were about to leave the woods, my body reacted even before the flying projectile warning.
It was due to the arrow, but its target was the head of the drone being carried in my arms.
I intercept the arrow with my left hand, deflecting it with a tightened fist. The surface layer of my skin is gouged, revealing multi-scale type subcutaneous armor, but this is insignificant. I let out a grunt at the realization of how seriously they value information secrecy.
No prisoners, they seem to insist on thorough erasure.
Still, how did this unit slip past my rear visual sensors to approach undetected? If I hadn’t relied on my warrior’s intuition, I wouldn’t have been able to counteract the headhunting strike—not that there were any vital parts except wiring in comparison to a human, but it still left me uneasy.
Is this also “magic”?
“Captain! What are you bringing back?!”
“A valuable source of information! It could be leverage for negotiations!”
After sprinting with all my might and dodging supporting firepower, I finally make it to our lines. Despite that, hypersonic arrows keep flying at us, leaving no room for complacence.
“Get behind me!”
“Ridelberdy! You’re like a porcupine out here!”
The warrior chief, who appeared from behind the Decotmus-4 as my shield, looked rather formidable. The two sub-arms were holding shields riddled with arrows, and even the exoskeleton had a few arrows sticking out.
Like us, Tech Gobs value commanders leading from the front, but for them to persevere to this degree shows just how much guts they’ve got.
“All stopped by the armor! Now, move!”
“Lord Nozum! Hurry!”
As Peter called out while firing the coil gun from the APC’s hatch, I followed his instructions and jumped in. The hatch closes simultaneously, and the vehicle’s retreat begins.
“Retreating! We don’t expect pursuit past this ridge, so falling back to the initial position!”
“Damn, arrow density has increased!”
“More shields! We need new shields!”
A chaotic retreat begins. While the Decotmus-4 and Sashigame units retreat at a slow pace suitable for the exoskeleton troops to keep up, they continue firing in retreat. The intensity of the enemy’s attack escalates to the point where it’s impossible to gauge their numbers by sound alone.
While the armored surface reverberates with the impact of arrows, I can’t help but wonder if everyone is okay, raising my head slightly. That’s when another kick comes flying.
The “Elf-like Creature,” which had been writhing in apparent pain, now seems accustomed to the discomfort. From her fallen position, she aligns both legs and kicks out with the force of a pro-wrestler launching counterattacks from the mat.
I dodge by swiveling my head, and at the same time, catch her leg that whizzes past the side of my head. With this, I break her knee joint and render her powerless.
“AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!”
Now this is surely enough to subdue her. Her emerald-colored camera eyes glower with intense hostility, but I’m more amazed at how much it resembles a human being.
…No, wait.
When I flip her over, examining the still-movable parts of her body, there’s something amiss.
There are no terminals. No terminal jacks where they should be—on the wrist, at the shoulder joint, nowhere.
What’s going on here? Drones of this type usually have direct input mechanisms for commands. Furthermore, given the risk of remote hacking, these advanced models mostly isolate their vital systems from the communication network, necessitating direct connection methods.
Thereby, without such direct-connect equipment, it would be impossible to input commands or recognize the master.
But this “Elf-like Creature” lacked those.
There’s no sign of them hidden underneath false skin. They’ve just been absent from the start.
“Captain, sorry to interrupt, but…”
“Let’s skip the ambiguous phrasing!!”
“That compressed wave message your capture is emitting is a hybrid of ternary and base-15 number codes. Due to its danger, I recommend destruction.”
Dammit, that’s why communication didn’t work.
But the warning was transmitted in binary code, so it’s not entirely outside comprehension.
“This is a valuable source of information. We’ll capture it alive.”
“I have no equipment to disassemble her, though…”
“You’re always so extreme! Worst-case scenario, we’ll work with what we can in the open air. First, though, let’s try to communicate.”
My partner, as usual, tends to say some truly terrifying things.
After binding the wriggling “Elf-like Creature” with the spare wires intended for three-dimensional mobility operations to immobilize her, I advance through the interior of the APC and enter the commander’s room.
“Companion of the god!”
“Slightly moving the controls, please step aside.”
Sliding into the space between the Sylvanian operating the control panel and the Decotmus-4’s body, I connect directly via a cable from my neck, accessing the tactical link. The status across all vehicles becomes clear.
We’re not purely moving in a horizontal line; the army has formed a pincer formation, carefully retreating while anticipating the enemy’s potential thrust from the forest.
Clever and stable—it’s exactly Galatea’s style.
“Galatea, I’m taking command from here on.”
“Understood, Nozomu. Should we continue the retreat?”
“Yes, fall back until we’re out of attack range. Stop the firing, everyone back inside the vehicles immediately to increase our speed.”
The enemy’s attacks can’t penetrate the APC’s armor, but the fact that they can pierce through handheld shields suggests that it’s safer to have soldiers inside.
Even as we retreat, I regret my heightened tension earlier.
Even then, I understood how low the probability of encountering a real elf was.
Still, the acquisition of a living source of information is significant.
Having encountered a minor risk, I remind myself of the achievements while commanding the line of vehicles…
…
[Exploratory Record] Humanoid Drones. These machines have outward forms resembling humans, but many states hold treaties that mandate “clearly distinguishable drone designs.” Some groups of mechanized humans are labeled as drones, but they identify as human, often raising objections on a case-by-case basis.
Scheduled update on 2024/08/26 around 18:00.
