The Genius Mecha Pilot Wants to Survive - Chapter 09

Gaspaeng Defense Battle (2)

There are two main options.

Option 1: Break through the 2-C Living Quarters. It’s not a long detour, so there’s a high chance of reaching the maintenance shop quickly. The downside is that the Kilug are there. We don’t even know how many.

Option 2 is to take a long detour. It could be considered safe as it avoids combat, but it takes a significant amount of time. The Living Quarters are quite large, after all. If we do that, the Kilug might spread further, and the routes will get blocked.

Since I’m a terrible shot, I want to avoid combat until I get in a Titan. So, I have the desire to choose the slightly safer route.

However, precisely because I’m not confident in my shooting, I also think this: I want to get into a Titan as soon as possible.

“We have to push through for now.”

The detour route is by no means short. It’s far even if we push through, and it’s even farther if we go around. Also, we haven’t forcibly lowered the blast doors for each sector. Maybe after some time has passed, but right now, we can’t even confirm if the civilians and unarmed troops have gathered properly. If we force the blast doors down there, it’s obvious the situation will only get worse.

That means, even though they appeared in 2-C, we don’t know when the Kilug will come to the route we’re taking around. In the end, there’s a lot of luck involved. So, choosing the shortest distance was the right call.

“Hmm, alright. We’ll prepare that way.”

“Wait.”

“Hm?”

“Just a second…”

I map out the 2-C Living Quarters in my head. Big roads come to mind. But going on the big roads is dangerous.

Not only Keppers but also Big Eyes often appeared inside the building. As infantry, it’s a bit hard to catch them with just rifles. There’s no need to waste time catching them.

I roughly decided on a route, thinking about paths those big guys couldn’t enter.

“Let’s go this way.”

“Isn’t this faster?”

“We have to pass through the lobby connected to the shopping mall. If there’s a Big Eye there, we’re in big trouble.”

Since our guns are direct-fire weapons, wide areas are good for concentrating firepower, but there’s no need to take a dangerous path.

Once the route was decided, James gave several orders. Form two lines. We started moving in two long lines along both walls.

The pace was about a jog. A bit faster than walking, but conserving stamina.

If a side path appeared in the middle, the first person would quickly aim and check the path, and a few more people behind would secure the side path. Once the troops passed, the soldiers guarding the side would rejoin the back.

It was slower than mindless running, but it had a sense of stability.

Also, since it’s combat in a corridor, concentrating firepower is difficult. That’s something I already felt during the last Tunnel Serpent incident. Maybe that’s why, before moving and even while moving, he keeps telling us to do this if combat occurs.

“If you go straight this way, and take a left at the third intersection, that should be the 3-Living Quarters. Just head to the shooting range there first! We haven’t encountered any Kilug on our way here.”

We send any civilians or troops we encounter to the nearest armed zone. While doing so, we get information.

“Have you seen any Kilug?”

“I, I haven’t seen them. But it seemed like the people we passed earlier did. They had blood splattered on them, and some of them had wounds from Keppers…!”

“Did you hear where they were?”

“I, I didn’t hear that.”

“Where did they meet them, and where were they coming from?”

“W-well…”

Since they couldn’t explain, I unfold the map on my terminal and show them. Only then do they point out the location of the people we passed at the intersection.

“Here. They were coming from this direction.”

“Aha, thank you for the information. For now, please evacuate as I told you.”

I gather information and adjust the route little by little. Meanwhile, James looks at me with eyes that say, “Why do you have a map like that?”

“Let’s move.”

Even while moving, James’s nagging echoes softly. The reason he doesn’t speak loudly is, of course, for sound play.

‘My ears are going to get calloused.’

But the moment that nagging finally paid off arrived.

Crunch. Crunch.

Amidst the emergency siren, I hear the sound of something chewing. It’s different from gum. Even though it’s the sound of chewing meat, it’s too loud to be coming from a human mouth. I also hear the sound of bones being chewed. That sound, too, is not one that can be made by bones that a human oral structure could chew.

At James’s hand signal, everyone stops. And we walk very carefully without making a sound.

Even so, perhaps because there are so many of us, it feels noisy. I feel relieved now that the emergency alarm sound masks our footsteps.

The sound is likely coming from the path branching to the right in front of us.

The first soldier reaches the corner of the corridor. He carefully sticks his head out to check. When he turns his head back, everyone’s gaze is fixed on him. He nods carefully, as if to confirm it’s a Kilug.

Tap, tap. James taps his gun to catch the soldier’s attention and asks with his mouth movements.

“How many?”

Four fingers are raised. James and I look at each other and nod.

Four was enough to handle.

Following that, he gives orders with hand signals and mutters quietly.

“Three, two, one. Go!”

The soldiers at the very front quickly occupy the corridor. One line kneels, and the line behind is standing.

In that state, the guns spew fire.

I, who was in the center, could only watch. There was no point in everyone crowding in to catch a few in a narrow corridor.

I thought it was being resolved well, but perhaps there were many Kilug nearby, or maybe the gunfire was too loud. Reinforcements started to join the enemy.

Not from the direction our allies were shooting, but from the direction of the corridor we were advancing through.

“Fall back! You idiots! Fall back in two lines!!”

James shouted at the top of his lungs to the soldiers who were firing in front.

Meanwhile, he makes the soldiers in the center block the corridor. The soldiers who were blocking the right corridor scramble to run away, but when James fires his gun at the ceiling and tells them to move aside, only then do they stick to the wall and pull back.

“Open fire!”

As our allies stuck to the wall and visibility was secured, we were able to fire quickly.

Even though it was a standing firing line, thanks to the practice, the accuracy rate increased a little. To begin with, even if I couldn’t hit them, just creating a field of fire in a narrow place was enough. The others caught them well.

But that was only for a moment. They started popping out from the side corridor as well. It was a volume that, with a little exaggeration, filled the narrow corridor.

‘Is this a human base or a Kilug base?’

Meanwhile, a Kepper that had been biting a corpse in the corridor earlier throws the corpse away.

It hits someone next to me, making them stagger. Entrails and blood scatter. Some scream, some curse.

I, covered in blood, was the latter.

“Fucking hell…”

Meanwhile, a hole appears in our field of fire. Not missing that gap, one reaches us and bites the neck of a soldier who was kneeling and shooting.

Then, like a crocodile’s death roll, it shakes the soldier violently.

It was safe to say our line had lost its firepower. Cursing, I shout for a retreat to the back.

We run away in two lines as well.

Bullets whiz past us. In the middle of it, when one person in the opposite line falls, a Kepper latches onto them. Bullets are poured onto that Kepper, but the soldier’s leg had already been severed.

“H-help me…!”

They reach out their hand, but there was no one who could grab it. I was the same.

We run behind the soldiers who have formed a line. Catching our breath, we keep some distance and form a line ourselves.

“Haa, haa.”

Forming a line, sticking to the wall, and running away. Kiting in games wasn’t a big deal, but in reality, it drained my stamina rapidly. My gun barrel droops to the floor in my trembling arms, but I can’t let go of the gun entirely.

“Casualties…?”

“Three minor injuries. One serious injury… and three dead.”

“…Collect their dog tags.”

Even in the future, nothing beats dog tags for the most reliable identification and recovery of casualties.

“I already collected them.”

For some reason, James handed the identification tags to me. Three small tags that had fallen off the original long necklace. I gently took them and checked the names.

David, Jonathan, Raymond. Familiar names. We had spent a few days shooting guns and eating together.

There was no time to get emotional. After closing my eyes for a moment to mourn, I put them in my pocket.

Because there’s a bigger problem than the dead.

“Who’s the seriously injured one?”

“It’s Corphus. His leg was badly torn.”

They say that even in modern times, they changed the power of landmines from blowing up a whole person to just blowing off a leg.

The reason is that if you kill one person, only one person is removed from the fight, but if you blow off one person’s leg, two people are removed because they have to transport the wounded person to the rear.

This isn’t a battlefield where bullets are flying everywhere. This is a situation where I have to judge what to do with him.

‘I wish he had just died.’ Let’s not have any fucking thoughts like that. If we go down that road, it leads to, “Why did I even enter this game…”, and it’s an endless problem.

I make a quick decision. I can’t just abandon him, nor can I take him with us.

“Brellin and Bion. You two take him and return. From our current position, the 2-C Living Quarters emergency center is closer than the shooting range.”

I call the two who seemed close to Corphus, take out my phone, and show them the map. Our location, where to go, and how to get there.

“Even if it’s a bit of a detour, go towards the vehicle depot. The difference isn’t that big, but when I heard the broadcast, there might be Kilug on this route. Also, the vehicle depot is easy to hide in, and if moving is difficult, you can hide inside a vehicle. Got it?”

“Yes, sir…”

“Take care of Corphus, okay?”

“Yes…!”

That’s how 6 people left. Nearly 1/4 of our numbers were reduced. Even so, we started moving again.

After that, we encountered them two more times. One more person died, and ammunition decreased even faster.

“There are more Kilug inside than I thought. At this rate, we might not make it.”

James was right. Now that we had entered Sector 3, there was no telling how many more people would be lost while going to Sector 4.

Of course, there is a plan. A method that is a bit more dangerous but faster.

I try to open my mouth, but the words don’t come out, as if something is stuck.

It’s doubt. Doubt about whether my judgment is correct. The fact that the price of that judgment is people’s lives makes me unable to ignore that doubt.

Should I have just joined the nearest base, established a defensive line, and then made a separate request to go ride a Titan? Did I unnecessarily try to move with such a small group and end up costing many lives?

Or why didn’t I try harder to get into a Titan right away? What if I had bought a bunch of alcohol and snacks and visited the maintenance shop during off-hours? Could we have survived the raid like that? Or what if I had hidden inside the maintenance shop while pretending to go to the bathroom?

The dog tags in my pocket feel heavy.

“Mitchell…?”

“Sorry, I had some useless thoughts for a moment.”

I snapped out of it at James’s words. The various fundamental methods I thought of were actually nonsense. How was I supposed to know they would attack in a few days? To begin with, the maintenance shop manager was a picky guy, so he wouldn’t have allowed that anyway.

Even if those ideas were right, and I had judged wrongly. What’s done is done. Right now, I had to do what I had to do.

“We’re changing the route.”

When I open my mouth, everyone’s gaze gathers. I give a very slight pause to increase their focus.

“From now on, we’re going to the 3-1 Vehicle Depot. We’ll grab a vehicle there and head to our original destination.”

Even heavier words come out.

“Even if we get a vehicle… the way there won’t be easy. Unlike before, we have to go on the main road, and we might meet bigger guys like Big Eyes. But that is the fastest… way. Can everyone do it?”

I was about to say it was the fastest and most certain way, but stopped. Because I wasn’t even sure if that way was right. I realized anew why I wasn’t good at the commander route. Even the last question was an act unbecoming of a commander.

But even so.

“Yes, Sir!”

A loud, booming answer returned.

The fortunate thing was that there was no major danger until the vehicle depot. We met a few Keppers, but there were no casualties.

The vehicle we chose was a 1 1/4 ton truck. A so-called “four-five ton” truck. How is it that even in the future, the appearance of the 1 1/4 ton truck hasn’t changed that dynamically?

It was similar in that it had a high chassis for driving on various terrains, and it was the same that there were two seats in the driver’s area and space for about 10 people or cargo in the back.

The difference was that instead of the mottled frog-pattern camouflage, it had digital-pattern camouflage. And that it felt a bit clunky but angular, like a Te-x-la truck.

“Who’s driving?”

Unlike its somewhat modern design, it was a structure that could be started immediately without a key. It’s a form often seen in the military where there are many urgent situations.

“Isn’t it obviously you?”

“Hm?”

“There are a whopping three reasons for that.”

“Three?”

The first reason is that since I’m good at driving Titans, I’ll be good at driving this too. The second reason is that since I know the way best, it’s right for me to be holding the steering wheel even in urgent situations. Lastly, since it didn’t seem like I could hit enemies from a moving car with my shooting skills, I should just hold the steering wheel.

‘Now that I hear it, it makes sense. I can’t logically refute it.’

“Titans and cars are different, so I’m a bit worried…”

As such, I thought I might be able to refute the first point a little, but I just grabbed the steering wheel.

In the seat next to me was Jordoni, the marksman. In the back cargo area, right behind the driver’s seat—that is, in the innermost seat—sat James. It was to communicate back and forth by lowering the middle window.

“Everyone, hold on tight.”

Vroom, vroom, vroom, vroom, vroom. I rev the engine and then slam on the gas. Due to the sudden start, I rush toward the car parked on the opposite side. I turn the steering wheel and slam on the brakes.

Screeeech-

Then, heading toward the entrance, I try slamming the accelerator and brakes back and forth. Jordoni, the soldier who was the top ace in the shooting contest next to me, ends up swaying as if headbanging.

“Is it true that Sergeant Lee’s piloting skills are top-tier…?”

I hear that from behind. I ignore it and get a feel for it. Honestly, what could be difficult about safe driving?

However, the driving I have to do from now on is, with high probability, action movie driving. I have to brake suddenly, turn sharply, and move in ways that don’t make sense.

It won’t be perfect with just this, but I grasp the sensitivity of the steering wheel, accelerator, and brakes.

“Okay, let’s go.”

Now it was time to really step on it.