86 Eighty-Six
CHAPTER 1
A BATTLEFIELD WITH ZERO CASUALTIES
There were no casualties on that battlefield.
“—And now, we have an update regarding the war.
“A group of the unmanned Imperial weapons known as the Legion have invaded the seventeenth ward today. The force was intercepted, severely crippled, and forced to retreat by the might of our unmanned drones, the Juggernauts, pride and joy of the Republic of San Magnolia. Damage to equipment was light, and no loss of life was reported on our side today yet again.”
The main street of the Republic of San Magnolia’s capital, Liberté et Égalité, was so peaceful and beautiful one would be hard pressed to believe the country had been at war for the past nine years.
Carved white marble graced the facades of the city’s high-rise buildings. The greenery of the roadside trees and the black cast-iron lampposts mingled to create a picturesque contrast with the spring sunlight and the clear blue sky. The cafés on the street corners were populated by students and couples, their naturally silver hair glittering as they laughed loudly.
The city hall’s blue roof was adorned with a flag bearing the visage of the saint of the revolution, Saint Magnolia, and the Republic’s five-colored national flag. Its five colors stood for freedom, equality, brotherhood, justice, and nobility. The main street was paved with vast, delicately carved stones, the result of meticulous urban planning.
A young boy passed by Lena, his silver hair shining like the moon as he laughed, holding his parents’ hands. Dressed so neatly, they were probably going out somewhere. Sparing a final glance at the backs of the happy family, she turned her silver eyes to the street-side television’s holo-screen, the smile fading from her lips.
She was clad in the Republic military’s dark-blue collared uniform for female officers. The sixteen-year-old girl had a snow-white beauty and a certain glasswork delicacy that fit her age—and an elegant demeanor that reflected her upbringing and pedigree. Her softly flowing, silken hair and long eyelashes were a striking silver, and her large, equally silver eyes served as proof of her being not only an Alba, a descendant of the race native to this land since ages past, but also a pureblood Celena, who were considered to be of noble birth.
“Under the capable command of our skilled Handlers, these highly efficient drones allow us to defend the nation while eliminating the need to dispatch precious lives to the front lines. There can be no doubting the usefulness of the Republic’s humane and advanced combat system. The day when the Republic’s righteous ways defeat the fallen Empire’s evil relics will surely come even before the entire Legion shuts down in two years’ time. Hail the Republic of Magnolia. Glory to the five-hued flag.”
Lena’s expression darkened at the sight of the snowy-haired, silver-eyed alabaster newscaster’s brilliant smile. This optimistic, or rather unrealistic, news report had been repeated countless times since the war began, and the majority of civilians didn’t doubt its authenticity. They believed it in spite of the fact that after being driven out of more than half its territory less than a month into the war, the Republic had failed to regain any of it in nine years of fighting.
And all it took was one cursory look around this picturesque main street to notice a certain fact. It was evident in the newscaster, the couples and students in the café, the people passing by, and of course, even Lena herself. The Republic prided itself on being the first modern democracy in the world and proactively welcomed immigrants from other countries. The Republic had been the native land of the Alba since ages past, while other countries were home to people of different colors. All people
of color, Colorata, were welcomed equally, be they the dark-as-night Aquila; the golden Aurata, who shone like the sun; the Rubela with their brilliant crimson hair; or the blue-eyed Caerulea.
But right now, if one was to scour the capital’s main street—no, even the city in its entirety—all one would find in the Republic’s eighty-five administrative Sectors would be silver-haired, silver-eyed Alba.
Yes, formally speaking, there were no soldiers considered human or counted among the dead on the battlefield. However…
“…That’s not to say no one died.”
One corner of Palace Blancneige, once home to the royal court in days past, now served as the military’s luxurious headquarters. This palace, and the fortification wall that encircled the administrative Sector, the Gran Mule, was Lena’s destination and the center of command for the entirety of the Republic’s military.
There were no soldiers outside the Gran Mule, on the front lines one hundred kilometers away from the fortress walls. Only drones—Juggernauts—fought on the battlefield, and they were commanded from control rooms in the military’s headquarters. Their line of defense, which consisted of over one hundred thousand Juggernauts, with antipersonnel, anti-tank minefields at their back and a surface-to-surface interception artillery cannon, had never been breached. And of course, the forces stationed at the Gran Mule had never seen live combat. Other professions in the military included communications, transport, analysis, tactical planning, and assorted bureaucracy. In other words, not a single soldier in the Republic military had ever known true combat.
Lena frowned, catching the conspicuous stench of alcohol coming from a group of officers that passed her by. They had probably used the control room’s large screen to watch sports or something again. As she aimed a reproachful look at them, her gaze was met with sneering eyes.
“Gentlemen, it looks like our little doll-loving princess has something to say.”
“Whoa, scary, scary. She’s better off shutting herself in her room and playing with her precious drones.”
She wheeled around to look at them, unable to contain her irritation.
“Listen, you—”
“Morning, Lena.”
A voice called out to her from her side, and she turned to find Annette, who had joined the army the same year she had, greeting her. She was a technical lieutenant affiliated with the lab division and a friend of Lena’s since secondary school. As they had both skipped a grade, she was currently Lena’s only friend who was the same age.
“…Good morning, Annette. You’re certainly here early. Don’t you usually oversleep?”
“I’m on my way back from work. Pulled an all-nighter yesterday… Please don’t lump me together with those idiots, okay? You know I’m a workaholic. An issue that could only be resolved by certified genius Technical Lieutenant Henrietta Penrose popped up.”
Annette gave a long, catlike yawn. Her short hair was an Alba’s silver, and her large, hanging eyes were a similar silvery hue. Annette shrugged, sparing a glance in the direction of the group of drunkards that had retreated during the pair’s exchange, as if to say that trying to discipline idiots like them was a waste of time. Lena blushed, realizing from the look in her friend’s elegant eyes that she was trying to stop her from doing just that.
“Oh, right. The alert on your information terminal was on. You should probably take care of that.”
“Oh no… Sorry. Thanks, Annette.”
“Don’t mention it. Just try to not get too caught up with the drones, okay?”
Lena turned on her heel, a frown on her face, and after shaking her head once, made her way to her designated command room.
The command room was small, half filled by an artificial, mechanical command console, and was an otherwise dark, chilly, and cold space. The silvery walls and floor were dimly lit by the console’s standby-mode hologram.
Taking a seat on the armchair, Lena shifted her argent locks aside and placed a resplendent metal ring—the RAID Device—around her neck with a cold, dignified gaze. Now that the battlefronts were far beyond the walls of the Gran Mule, this cramped room was the sole battlefield one could find in the Republic’s eighty-five Sectors.
“Commence authentication. Major Vladilena Milizé, commanding control officer for the eastern front’s ninth ward, third defensive squadron.”
Having completed its retinal and voice authentication, the control system turned on. Holographic screens flickered on one after another, displaying a dizzying amount of information from countless pieces of observation equipment set across the distant battlefield. The main screen was a digital map that displayed the Republic’s and the enemy’s mobile weapons as blips. The friendly units—in other words, the Juggernauts—were displayed as blue blips, numbering seventy. The third squadron, which was under Lena’s command, had twenty-four units, while the second and fourth squadron had twenty-three each. The red blips that symbolized the enemy units, the Legion, were far too many to count.
“Activate Para-RAID. Set Resonance target, information-processing unit Pleiades.”
The blue-crystal portion of the RAID Device, which was set against the nape of Lena’s neck, suddenly prickled with heat. It wasn’t actual, physical heat but an illusory heat felt by her nerve cells as they were stimulated by the Sensory Resonance. The activated pseudo-nerve-cell crystal served as an information-processing unit and stimulated a certain part of the brain. Perhaps that part held potential to be unlocked by humanity’s evolution, or perhaps it was an unused section, left behind and forgotten by humankind as it evolved ages ago. Whatever the case, using it unlocked a deep, nigh-vestigial function of the brain known as the Night Head.
Lena passed through a “path,” diving into a place far deeper than her consciousness and even her subconscious. The “collective unconscious” of humankind, shared by every member of the human race. Lena linked her consciousness with the third squadron’s captain, the Processor operating Personal Name unit Pleiades via the sea of the unconscious. Pleiades’s and Lena’s sensory information was linked and shared.