86 - Volume 10 - Chapter 3.3

3

“I see. But that’s just the way it is. That’s the fate of the Eighty-Six.”

Upon hearing from Shin, the sole survivor, that the rest of his squadron had been wiped out, the chief of the maintenance crew, Touka Keisha, sighed. She was a mixed Sapphira with golden hair and sky-blue eyes. She wore coveralls that had the constant scent of machine oil on it, which clashed with the fair, beautiful features of her face.

Brushing a lock of hair back, she turned to the rear of the hangar, where containers were lined up. Every one of them was emblazoned with the Republic’s five-hued flag, which by now felt like a despicable symbol to her. She was appalled by the fact that after all the Republic had done, they still had the nerve to claim that their national policy was one of freedom, equality, brotherhood, justice, and nobility.

Those fools could never hope to embody such values while oppressing the Eighty-Six, whom they didn’t even consider human.

“It wasn’t on time for this operation, but the order for that armament finally got approved. There’s still a surplus from when they were initially produced, so they sent us plenty of spares. Use them in your next squadron.”

High-frequency blades. Touka had even forgotten they existed until the taciturn boy by her side found them in the Juggernaut’s manual and asked her about them. They were optional armaments that could be placed on the grappling arms instead of the 12.7 mm heavy machine guns.

They had enough force to even cut into the armor of the Dinosauria, the toughest and largest of all observed Legion types, like it was made of butter. But in the end, they were only swords. Anachronistic, absurd melee weapons. Utterly useless in a battlefield where heavy machine guns and tank turrets, which could fire projectiles several kilometers away, reigned supreme.

Any weapon, no matter how potent, was useless unless it hit the enemy. And so no Eighty-Six used this weapon, which required sprinting through gunfire and bombardment to close in on the enemy. They were seen as useless weight and nothing more.

As a result, Touka didn’t know of any Processors who used them, and when the Handler received the request to order them, their reaction went from mocking to outright eerie disgust. Apparently, they questioned if the one who asked for it had completely lost his mind.

Touka herself tried to talk Shin out of it, but he insisted, and she had to give in. After all, he would be the one to put his life on the line in battle with this weapon. As a member of the maintenance crew, Touka didn’t have the right to change his mind.

She could only hope that stubbornness didn’t stem from desperation. She couldn’t remember him looking her in the eye even once since he was stationed here. And so as she tried to meet his lowered gaze, she continued her words.

“Just don’t do anything reckless. You’re the only one who survived, so you should stay alive for as long as you can. In your next squadron and the one after that, too.”

“…”

Shin remained silent. He was ten years younger than Touka, and he already lacked emotion to an extent one would never imagine from a boy in his early teens. Despite Touka somehow managing to smile at him, he didn’t return the gesture. Instead, he walked away from the container of high-frequency blades to another corner of the hangar.

“…Can you fix this?” he asked in a dry voice, his gaze set on a heavily damaged, old-model Scavenger.

Its legs were in critical condition, and it could hardly move. She was shocked when he’d towed it back to base with his Juggernaut. Even if the battle was over, he’d returned with it from the depths of the contested zones, where the Legion could be hiding anywhere. And it was just a Scavenger, a burden, an unnecessary drone that wasn’t even worth protecting.

What spurred him to perform such an insane act? Everyone there had the feeling that they understood, and so neither Touka nor the rest of the maintenance crew said anything.

“Well…” Touka trailed off and shrugged.

Normally, repairing a Scavenger would be put off, but they didn’t have any Juggernauts to fix that day.

“Well, yes. If it’s just patching up its legs, it’s not a problem. Its core unit isn’t damaged, so we can probably fix it in no time. Right, we’ll have it ready today… Maybe tomorrow. That’s all thanks to you bringing it back… Good job.”

“…”

Touka herself thought her attempt at cheering him up came across as unnatural, and Shin didn’t say anything. In his place, the Scavenger sitting in the empty hangar beeped out a strange, electronic “Pi.”

The frontline bases’ power supply was operated from far behind the Republic’s fortress walls. The Republic upheld a blackout during nighttime. It was done to ensure the base wasn’t subjected to night raids from the Legion and also to avoid wasting energy on subhuman pigs.

To the Republic’s citizens, the Eighty-Six were just disposable tools used in the name of their national defense. Anything that wasn’t necessary for combat, be it for comfort or recreational purposes, or any kind of indulgence that would help keep up morale, wasn’t delivered to the Eighty-Sixth Sector.

Slightly before the lights went out, Touka patrolled the base in place of the dead captain. She stopped in the hangar, which was empty after the crew finished servicing Shin’s Juggernaut and the Scavenger.

Normally, Scavengers spent the night in a designated waiting area near the base’s automatic factory. But despite that, the Scavenger’s large, squarish form was still visible in a corner of the closed hangar. Touka didn’t really mind seeing it there. Scavengers were tools produced and used by the Republic. She didn’t know and honestly didn’t care what programming operated them or how they decided how to act. After all, even if the Eighty-Six could decide the scavengers’ work orders or the range they operated in, they didn’t have authority to assign them tasks.

But then she saw Shin huddled next to its stained body, asleep. He was there even though the maintenance crew had told him to get some rest. Looking closely, she saw he had his thin blanket from his room, so apparently, he had returned to the barracks once. But then why was he sleeping here in the hangar? It wasn’t a place one should spend the night in.

She reached out to him, thinking to shake him awake, but then she came to a realization and bit her lip.

The barracks. It was now empty of all the squad mates who’d been there until just the previous day, and he probably didn’t want to sleep there by himself. It would be going back to a place that served as a reminder that everyone but him had passed away.

So he’d gone to the hangar. A place that would always be empty at night. Or maybe…

The boy sat in place, asleep and huddled against the cold body of the Scavenger, which was now in stasis mode.

To Touka, he looked like a small child clinging to a stray puppy he’d found.