Macross The Ride - #3: Spiral Blue
The Earth Unification War. The final conflict between Earthlings came to an abrupt end when an alien race known as the Zentradi intervened. Mankind was unified under the New United Nations Government, and an age of hope and galactic exploration had dawned. There was a terribly long ceasefire, so long that everyone forgot that there had ever been a war. But, the past suddenly awoke from the depths of darkness.
After the qualifiers, the VF-19ACTIVE Nothung was brought to a maintenance hangar on Island Reno. It was rich with the smell of machine oil and burning metal, along with the distinctive scent of a place filled with the hustle and bustle of people.
âYou sure put on a show.â
One of Hakunaâs investors, a woman with chocolate-colored skin named Katori Brown Robbins, looked at the Nothung and let out a sigh.
With that as her first remark, Chelsea thought:
Ah, she must be pretty strict.
âDoesnât look broken to me, Colonel.â
Chelsea had shrunk back, but Hakuna was tilting his head. The Nothungâs chassis was still in pristine condition, there was no sign that it had been damaged in their recent race whatsoever.
âAh, no⊠umâŠâ
âWhat is it, Chelsea?â
âIt is broken. You just canât see it, Hakuna. Any decent mechanic would be able to tell, even if they were twelve years old.â
She looked like she was in her early thirties. A strikingly rugged woman with a rhythmic gait. Her arms were muscular, giving her an appearance like a wild beast.
âYouâre right, little lady.â
Katori stared into Chelseaâs eyes with intent.
Her eyes were sharp. They werenât the eyes of a killer or a soldier. There was a different quality to them, like she had the sternness of an astronaut, but could lose her composure at even the slightest misstep.
âWhen I evaded Hakuna in the flag zone, there was a small irregularity in the noises the right-side engine was making. Putting it in tempo terms, it was a quarter of a beat off. Just a small staccato.â
âOhh.â
Katoriâs eyes narrowed slightly.
âOne of the thermonuclear burst turbines on the right fin is starting to warp from the heat.â
âSo itâs this thing?â
Hakuna peered into the engine nozzle on the Valkyrieâs leg.
âI swear on a coyoteâs front paws, it just didnât seem that way.â
âThen youâd better apologize to that coyote. By my estimate, itâs bent by 0.5 degrees. If you went for another reckless maneuver, I wouldnât be shocked if itâd snapped off. Hakuna, youâre gonna keep being called the Uncrowned Emperor forever if you canât pick up on things like these.â
Oddly, Hakuna didnât argue with her. There seemed to be a deep bond of trust between them.
ââBut, youâve got a good eye, little lady.â
âChelsea. First Lieutenant Chelsea Scarlett.â
âYou can drop the rank. This isnât the military.â
The woman, who had already been addressed as âColonel,â made a sour face. But her voice was still gentle. In her tone, Chelsea could sense her love for technology and aircraft.
âAllow me to properly introduce myself. Iâm Katori Brown Robbins, president and field manager of the civilian maintenance company, Robbins Family.â
âAre you ex-military?â
âYes. From a survey fleet even more run-down than this one. Been flying since I was thirteen. Though, I was eight the first time I took a Valkyrieâs engine apart.â
âIf you went fifty lightyears in any direction, youâd probably struggle to find more than five civilian mechanics better than you, Colonel.â
Saying that, Hakuna looked at the whole line-up of Valkyries in the Robbins Familyâs massive hangar. It wasnât just Hakunaâs VF-1 and Chelseaâs VF-19. There was a mix of older civilian models like the VF-3000 Crusader and the VF-5000 Star Mirage, as well as active-duty models like the VF-14 Vampire and the VF-17 Nightmare.
âIâve worked on all of these. That VF-3000 over there, for example, has already outlived its usual active service life by over twenty years, but its owner is ready to die with it. Those are the kinds of machines we repair here.â
â...Thatâs⊠beautiful.â
That was Chelseaâs honest reaction.
It wasnât a shiny, state-of-the-art factory by any means.
It was more like a warehouse, little more than an open space with nothing but a roof to shelter it from the elements. A world apart from the high-end, shimmering modules she was used to back at the S.M.S. The mechanics coming and going were much more rustic, to the point that itâd be more fitting to call them technicians than experts.
But even if it wasn't polished to mechanical perfection, there was a different kind of beauty to it. It was warm, like a concert performed by people who brought their own instruments and played together as they pleased.
âItâs stupid, really.â
Katori broke eye-contact with Chelsea and gave a wry smile. A smile that made her seem more embarrassed than uncomfortable.
âStupid?â
âYeah. If you just watch TV, you see that the latest and greatest in technology gets updated every week without fail. Complete with new commercial jingles. You can buy basically anything from the Galactic Network. Sure, you need money for it, but maintaining a vintage Valkyrie isnât about the money. It takes effort, too. This good-for-nothingâsââ
The chief mechanic pointed her tanned finger at Hakuna, who was fiddling with the VF-1âs exposed engine block with a completely oblivious expression.
ââHakunaâs VF-1 stopped being officially produced by its manufacturer over 40 years ago now. Of course, there are plenty of parts in circulation since they made so many to begin with, but if any parts are missing or donât fit right, we have to make them by hand. Sometimes it even takes a year or two to find a replacement once it breaks.â
Katori laughed, alluding to an extreme example where they had to hire an explorer to dig up blueprints from pre-war ruins.
âSo⊠theyâre important?â
âThatâs right. Itâs about our passion. Just like art, once a technology becomes lost, it canât be revived by ordinary means. For exampleâŠâ
Maybe sheâd taken a liking to Chelsea. Katori waved her over to a grease-stained, apparently handmade, titanium bench.
If she insisted. Chelsea was a bit out of her element in such an unfamiliar situation, but the soundscape of the place was soothing.
Glancing at the now-seated Chelsea with a look of slight satisfaction, Katori took a seat next to her and snapped her fingers. Like magic, one of the mechanics appeared to hand her a freshly brewed cup of coffee.
âFor example, this knife.â
Katori drew a large knife with a blade over 30 centimeters long from its sheath, still holding her coffee in her other hand.
The blade had a pattern which shimmered and sparkled in different, equally non-uniform ways depending on how the light hit it. One could say it was like a marble pattern, but that wasnât quite true. The bladeâs mysterious beauty alone seemed capable of cutting through you.
âWhatâs this?â
âA Damascus blade. Itâs made of steel forged over three hundred years ago, in an Earth nation called India. To be precise, itâs made of wootz steel.â
As she moved the knifeâs blade ever so slightly, ripples of light shimmered from it and then faded away.
âItâs a specially forged steel with a rippled surface that they say doesnât break, bend or rust. Whether thatâs true or not, we donât know how humans from all those centuries ago managed to create steel like this, with carbon nanotubes lining it at a molecular level. This baby is a rare survivor; it cost me quite a modest sum.â
âBecause of Space War I?â
Chelseaâs voice got a little stiff.
Long ago, Chelseaâs ancestors had slaughtered many of Katori and Hakunaâs ancestors, reducing the Earthâs population to somewhere between one-sixtieth or one-hundredth of what it once was. Even now, there were pure-blooded Earthlings who brought the topic forward whenever they met a Zentran.
But Katori wasnât like that.
â...No.â
âHuh?â
âThe method for forging Damascus steel was lost over three hundred years ago. Some say that it was because they stopped producing the raw materials necessary, but others say itâs because the specific techniques were lost in the turmoil. The truth is lost in the shadows of history.â
Chelsea took a sip of her coffee and, somehow seemed to be carrying an extra weight on her shoulders.
Katori took a sip too. It was incredibly rich and stickily sweet, probably because it was the kind of coffee that manual laborers drank.
Just like her.
Chelsea thought.
The flavor seemed to have the weight and depth of life within it.
âThatâs just how culture is. Once itâs lost, it canât be recovered. Noâmaybe thatâs not quite true.â
ââ?â
âItâs probably that same inability to recover it that makes people work so hard to get as close to it as they can. Even today, somewhere in the galaxy, there must be people who strive to recreate Damascus steel.â
With a swift, proud motion, the mechanic stood.
ââThatâs the kind of place this is. Welcome, Chelsea Scarlett. Weâre happy to have you.â
The hand extended toward her was large.
She hurried to shake it.
âSame here! Iâm looking forward to working with you!â
âYeah. Since weâll be doing your maintenance for the foreseeable future, try not to break your plane too much⊠though, if you have to, feel free to wreck it in a spectacular fashion.â
âIf I have to?â
âA Valkyrie is a tool. People shouldnât die for tools. Donât worry. Thereâs no machine that we canât repair. Humans canât come back from the dead, but machines can be made as good as new.â
Baring her white teeth, Katori showed Chelsea a genuine smile for the first time.
It was a nice smile.
A smile that inspired confidence that this mechanic was worth trusting with her life.
So Chelsea decided that sheâd put her faith in her.
â„â„â„
The streets of Island Reno were bustling, as if a circus had spilled out onto them.
A clown handing out balloons here, a juggler tossing flaming swords there.
A dancer projected a holographic dragon onto her body, skillfully hiding her true form as she danced. Nearby, a band dressed in star costumes played cheerful tunes.
Every building was lined with dazzling neon signs. Even the trees were illuminated by fiber optics or genetically engineered bioluminescence, casting their light onto the Reno streets like shining stars.
Everyone had smiles on their faces.
They were cheery and joyful. Wholeheartedly so.
The festive atmosphere drew in everyone present and spread outward. No matter where you were, the Reno festivities inevitably engulfed you and kept spreading from there.
And then there was the sky.
The vast desert surrounding the town wasnât Renoâs only attraction; its sky was another.
There was always something in the sky.
Sometimes there were fireworks. Others, there were airships gliding leisurely through the air. But, most importantly, the heroes of Vanquish performed demonstration flights, even when nobody asked them to do so.
At times, when a Valkyrie flew just above the rooftops, it felt like one could reach out and grab it. Even though the entire city was covered by a repulsive fieldâa spatial distortion field designed to prevent collisionsâthe festivities had the power to transform fear into joyous excitement.
âItâs amazing, Hakuna.â
Chelsea was like a country bumpkin. She couldnât begin to imagine how many times sheâd have to push through this crowd, this wave of people larger than the Babylonian exile itself, before reaching the straight line that would take her back to Hakunaâs place from the Robbins Family factory.
So, despite her frustration, Chelsea had to rely on the man named Hakuna Aoba, who swam through the crowd as if he were Moses himself.
âIs it always like this?â
âYou could say thatâwell, I guess you could say otherwise, too.â
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
âLemme put it this way. Thereâs always a festival going on here in Reno. Sometimes itâs a sporting event. Sometimes a rock band comes to do a show. Sometimes a politician comes to hold a fundraising rally. Of course, there are plenty of times where itâs just packed with people here to gamble and see the sights. The reasons for it may vary, but itâs always a festival.â
Hakuna turned around and gave a wry smile.
AgainâŠ
Chelsea thought.
She didnât recognize the smile.
There was no flattery in it. No calculation. No ulterior motive whatsoever. He was just smiling. And yet, it didnât seem foolish to her either.
It was a kind of smile that didnât exist in the world she once lived in.
So thereâs a world like this out there tooâ
âPardon me, are you Miss Chelsea!?â
Her train of thought was interrupted by a voice from behind.
âWha? Oh, yes. I am.â
Even she thought that the reply sounded pretty dazed.
Either way, she turned around.
Standing there was a decidedly rugged-looking young man who smelled like machine oil. From his flight jacket and the numerous platoon patches sewn into it, she could tell that he had some affiliation with Vanquish.
Judging from his well-proportioned muscles and his stance, she could tell that he was a pilot. His faintly freckled face was flushed, and there was a mix of awe and admiration in his gaze.
âIâm a fan of yours!â
âA fan?â
It was Hakuna who tilted his head in confusion. When he turned around with a lumbering motion a beat later, he looked less like a pilot and more like a bear.
âYep! Iâm the 12,025th member of the Chelsea Scarlett Fan Club, Ricardo Bloomberg!â
âOh, uh, wellâŠâ
A fan⊠of me!?
She shouldâve seen it coming. Sheâd spent far too long living a life where it was rare to step foot outside of an aircraft carrier, let alone into a crowd. This wasnât an ordinary lapse in judgment.
R-right⊠When I was in showbiz, I always had my manager with me when I went out, so⊠uh⊠what am I actually supposed to do in a situation like this?
Her brain started to overheat like a burst engine. The roaring of missiles and machine guns echoed through her mind.
âYour hiatus started three years ago! I never thought Iâd see you again! And I never couldâve imagined this! That youâd compete in Vanquish!? And your flying was so beautiful! Iâm so moved! So touched! It brought a tear to my eye! Please! Could I please get your autograph!?â
âUhh, well, IâŠâ
She was in trouble.
A real pinch.
She could feel everyoneâs gaze turning toward her.
Iâm becoming the center of attention.
Her body went stiff.
Her throat was dry. Her voice cracked.
Her heart pounded wildly.
âAhh, sorry, pal. Sheâd like her privacy today.â
âHakuna!â
Hakunaâs broad back slid smoothly between Chelsea and the young man.
âIâm sure sheâd like to thank you for the support, but sheâs brand new to this whole Vanquish thingâsheâs nervous, is all. Surely you realize how mentally grueling racing can be, right, Bloomberg?â
âHakuna Aoba! The Uncrowned Emperor! Are you her teammate!?â
What laced Bloombergâs voice wasnât jealousy, but rather an innocent admiration. A joy in seeing a man he admired standing side-by-side with a woman he admired. The jarring dissonance of that innocent gaze pierced Chelseaâs heart even more.
âWelp, thatâs just how it is. You understand, donâtcha? The preliminaries arenât even over yet, yâknow.â
âYeah! Theyâre just getting started!â
âThen, if you can make it through the prelims, we can talk again. Does that work for you?â
His tone left no room for argument, but wasnât overbearing either. Chelsea was only in this situation because she herself had already been swept up by his words, so she knew good and well how powerful they were.
âRight! Um, if that happens⊠Iâd be honored to get your autograph!â
Instinctively, the young man whoâd introduced himself as Bloomberg gave a deep, ninety-degree bow.
âYouâll fall over if you stiffen up like that, Bloomberg.â
With a thump, Hakuna patted Chelsea on the shoulder and urged her to keep walking.
When eyes turned toward her, he stood like a shield, protecting her as if it was the most natural course of action.
Chelsea gave a light nod of acknowledgment, then deliberately looked away. She forcefully pushed the sight of Bloomberg, watching her leave with tears in his eyes, out from view.
I⊠just did something badâŠ
â„â„â„
Walking aimlessly, they found themselves in a secluded spot. A rooftop garden attached to a hotel.
She didnât have much memory of staying in hotels, but when the clerk bowed and ushered them both in as soon as he saw Hakuna, she realized that Vanquish had become the main power on the Island.
Leaning against the fence at the edge of the garden, exhaustion washed over her.
It wasnât the fatigue that flying or fighting gave her.
It was a weariness born from a mixture of fear and regret, the type that makes you feel like your brain is eating away at itself.
âHere.â
âYeep!â
Something cold touched her cheek, and Chelsea let out a cute yelp as she recoiled in surprise.
âWh-whatâŠ?â
âItâs a sports drink. Do you not like those?â
âNo, itâs not thatâŠâ
She was scared.
For no discernable reason, she was scared of everything, including Hakuna.
The only reason she was still with Hakuna was that being alone would scare her even more.
âThen drink up. Most of the troubles in this world can be fixed by replenishing your fluids and sugar intake.â
Hakuna flashed his teeth, thrusting the can out in front of him. She realized that the coldness on her cheek was the metal tube of the can, which seemed to appear next to her like magic.
â...Thanks.â
She pulled the tab, letting the slightly sweet, lemony liquid slide down her throat. The coldness of the cheap isotonic beverage seeped into the dried lining of her throat like rain in a drought.
âWas that guy from the S.M.S. or somethingâŠ? Never seen him before.â
âââ
Hakuna wouldnât force her to open up to him.
There was no way that he really thought he was from the S.M.S. He was just playing stupid in the hopes that she would talk about it herself.
She didnât dislike the gentle feeling enveloping her, and the lingering chill on her cheek helped to calm her down a little.
âFirst, you should look up.â
â...?â
âUp in the sky, Chelsea. Always look at the sky. Lift your head up. If you keep looking down, your moodâll just get darker and darker. Thereâs nothing down by your feet. You donât lower your head because you feel bad. You feel down because thatâs where youâre looking. Thatâs just how it works.â
With that, Hakuna downed his amber-colored can. Chelsea wondered if it was alcoholic, but had no intention of pulling on the threads of that suspicion.
âThe skyâŠâ
Her neck felt terribly heavy.
Chelsea thought that looking down from the balcony and watching the people below in their revelry would have suited her better.
âLook at the sky, Chelsea. When a falcon flies, it starts by tilting up its head.â
â...!â
She looked up at the sky.
âEven just yearning for it is okay. Even if you donât have wings, just look at the sky.â
It felt like the words were pushing her forward.
Sheâd only spent a short time with him, but she could tell that Hakuna embodied the sensation of flight, just as the sky itself did. Otherwise, he wouldnât have been able to fly his VF-1 the way he did.
âThe skyâŠâ
She looked up.
That was all it took.
All she had to do was shift her line of sight by ten centimeters or so.
But that simple choice transformed the world before her from a dull chaos to a deep blue sky.
A pure white Valkyrie soared across the boundless blue expanse.
Beyond it, a world of shimmering stars came into view.
She took a deep breath.
âA long time agoâŠâ
The fact that she began to speak shocked even her.
But she thought that saying it out loud might make her feel a little better.
Hakuna poured more of the amber-colored liquid down his throat and wordlessly settled into a listening posture.
âI used to be a singer. Until three years ago, when I was on a galactic tour.â
âSo it seems.â
âHave you heard of Nekki Basara?â
It had been a while since sheâd said his name.
âI looked up to him. To the soul of a man who stared down the Protodeviln, who sought to absorb the spiritia of the entire universe, alone. A man who kept singing with his life on the line.â
Nekki Basara. Fire Bomber. There was no one in the galaxy who could say theyâd never heard of them.
He was a legendary rock star.
Hailed as the greatest band of the 21st century, they were a legendary group whose songs used to play everywhere you went.
And Nekki Basaraâs way of life, to seek nothing but songs, became a legend in its own right.
âI wanted to be a singer like he was. Someone who believed that the power of song could move mountains, move peopleâs hearts, and move the galaxy itself.â
It wasnât actually that long ago, but it felt like a terribly distant past.
Why am I telling him this? I never even told my S.M.S. teammates.
âBut then, one day, I just couldnât sing anymore.â
â...Why?â
Hakunaâs question wasnât curiosity, nor was it cheap sympathy. It was something much deeper, something that seemed to come from the deepest depths of his heart.
â...I donât remember.â
âHm?â
âNo, I donât know. Or, maybe I do.â
Chelsea tried to make sense of words that she just couldnât get in order.
Deep inside of her, she was struggling to untangle and rearrange the frayed, knotted threads of her memories.
âThe more I sang, it was like more and more peopleâs emotions were flowing into me⊠thatâs how it felt.â
âBeing in the spotlight, you mean?â
âI was getting scared of the spotlight, but that wasnât all of it. It felt like more and more of their emotions were being poured into me every time I sang, and I got scared of what that would do to me. I got further and further away from the reason I started singing. Even though Iâm Meltrandi.â
âI donât think that matters, though. Itâs not your genes that make you who you are.â
â...That isnât what my parents told me. They said that ever since the Zentrans and our culture became a part of the New United Nations Government, weâve lived for the sake of Earth culture. Thatâs why they gave me singing lessons, dance lessons, and even the Earth name Chelsea⊠My mom and dad⊠said they didnât need me⊠that I wasnât human, just a combat weapon, just one of Satanâs Dolls⊠and⊠ever since⊠whenever I go out in front of an audience, I freeze up and canât think straight⊠even though Iâm supposed to sing.â
âââ
âEven though I know fans like him are supporting me, I stillââ
âYou should wipe your tears.â
â!!â
When he handed her a handkerchief, she realized that sheâd been crying.
Hot tears had been streaming down her cheeks, soaking her collar, and she just hadnât noticed.
â...Thanks.â
âEven if youâre looking up, tears can still fall.â
â...In the end, I couldnât be like Nekki Basara. But I never even went to school; singing was all I could do⊠I ended up at S.M.S. because I had a Valkyrie pilotâs license for event promotions. And thatâs how it happened, how we got here, even though IâŠâ
âEven though you canât shoot a gun anymore?â
Hakuna crushed the aluminum can in his hand.
âI ran away. From the stage, from the spotlight. And now Iâm running away from being a pilot, and IâŠâ
âWhatâs wrong with running away?â
He said it like it was nothing.
As casually as tossing a crushed can into the trash.
âB-ButâŠâ
âThis world isnât about forward or backward. Thereâs also up and down. You donât have to fly on some predetermined course. Even if you feel like youâre flying in a totally different direction, you might just end up at the finish line anyway. Doesnât that work just as fine?â
â...I canât see it that way.â
âYouâll get it eventually. Eventually.â
He gazed into the distance.
He kept gazing into the distance.
It was the kind of gaze that made you wonder if there was something out there, far out on the horizon.
âNot just forward or backwardâŠâ
âRight. Think of a Valkyrie, even. They can take more forms than just an airplane, right? If a morning comes when you can live like Nekki Basara again, then you should just go ahead and live that way.â
â...Right.â
Somehow, the weight she felt in her chest started to feel lighter.
â„â„â„
Every restaurant they tried to get lunch at was packed. By the time they finally found somewhere with an open table, it was already late into the afternoon.
She decided to watch the broadcast of the qualifiers partly because her buffalo chicken wings were taking forever and partly because Bloomberg was taking part in it.
She didnât dislike her fans.
If anything, she felt a pang of grief that she couldnât respond to their cheers. That was who she was.
On the screen, Bloombergâs white VF-11C Thunderbolt charged toward the flag in GERWALK Mode.
Watching the people in the restaurant leap with excitement at the heroic sight, Chelsea realized just how popular Vanquish was.
âItâs him⊠heâs fast.â
âYeah, heâs got skill.â
Hakuna laughed with a grin. Heâd already begun drinking in broad daylight, arguing that since there was no night or day in outer space, it didnât matter when he drank.
But, a shadow was cast over the Thunderbolt.
A birdâŠ!?
A craft sheâd never seen before.
It was huge.
A deep crimson machine an order of magnitude larger than the Thunderbolt in both length and wingspan.
A Variable Fighter with strange wings like a birdâs.
âTheyâve got him!â
Its legs gripped the VF-11âs fuselage like a bird of prey seizing a swan.
By skillfully alternating its aerodynamics and nozzle thrust to apply pressure, the red Valkyrie pinned the VF-11 down, preventing it from either climbing or breaking away.
Bloombergâs unit raised the gunpod on its right arm.
But the strange Valkyrie was faster.
A torrent of shock rounds pierced the VF-11âs right arm. Sparks flew. The now-disabled arm hung limply.
The battle was over.
ButâŠ
âNo!â
Chelsea cried out.
She didnât know why.
But she knew what was about to happen.
The red Valkyrieâs wings shifted to generate downforce.
That was all.
That was enough to disrupt the vector of kinetic energy, sending the VF-11 slamming down into the ground in a spectacular tumble.
No matter how thick its energy-conversion armor was, it wouldnât matter. The sheer force generated by the combination of kinetic energy and mass shattered it.
The VF-11âs cockpit was crushed, its canopy scattered into the air with a blinding flash. It all played out in slow motion.
A horrible sound rang out.
The sound of a human life being shattered. The sound of a Valkyrie so carefully nurtured by its engineers being torn apart. The screech of metal against metal. The roar of an explosion. And finally, a wail of grief. Each sound brought excruciating sorrow.
â...How awful.â
Chelsea was probably the only one who thought so. Hakuna didnât bat an eye. The people inside the shop, including the staff, all went wild watching the extravagant crash. Right. That was the kind of show this was. A spectacle.
But, she couldnât forgive it.
She couldnât forgive this attitude of trampling over someone just for the sake of some spectacle.
âHey, Chelsea!â
She stood up.
She was standing.
There was no logic behind it.
Before she knew it, she was running.
Not long ago, she probably wouldnât have done something like this.
But she ran.
Once she started, she couldnât stop.
â„â„â„
A deep crimson Valkyrie landed on the tarmac.
Its massive form was unmistakable.
âYou!â
When Chelsea spoke, the pilot turned around and removed her helmet.
303 KoĆciuszkoâŠ?
Engraved with these unfamiliar words, an emblem that was presumably a unit insignia adorned her chest. The design, with crossed sickles and a military cap, was so classic that it seemed terribly anachronistic.
Her luxurious hair, the same color as her Valkyrie, fluttered in the hot breeze of evening.
A woman.
Even as a woman herself, Chelsea thought she was a beautiful Earthling woman.
She didnât worry much about gender or species at this point, but still, sheâd imagined someone far rougher from the way she flew, so she couldnât help being surprised.
âAnd who are you?â
With an icy gaze and tone, the pilot cut Chelsea down. It was the kind of voice that dismissed everyone but herself as inferior, refusing to even offer a second glance.
âChelsea Scarlettââ
After a brief pause to shake off her hesitation, Chelsea went on.
âA Vanquish pilot.â
âNever heard that name before. I make it a rule not to remember the names of pilots who place any lower than second.â
âThatâs not what matters right now!â
Chelsea thrust her finger into the pilotâs haughty face.
âWhat was that back there!?â
âIâm afraid I donât quite understand what you mean. It was a great performance, wasnât it? The audience seemed delighted, at least. I donât remember doing anything that would warrant a complaint from a child like you.â
âThat downforce!â
âDownforce⊠ahhâŠâ
The pilot gave a faint smile. It was an expression like she was being scolded for something as small as a light wrinkle in her collar.
âWhat is your problem?â
âYou didnât have to do something like that! When you destroyed the VF-11âs right arm, youâd already won!â
âI was curious about what you had to say, and itâs something this trivial? Couldnât you come up with something a little more clever than that?â
âTrivial!? You seriously think itâs alright to hurt the other pilots that badly!?â
âOf course.â
She puffed out her chest, which was as voluptuous as her hair.
âThis is Vanquish, the most extreme race in the galaxy. We all know the risks when we enter a race like this. Itâd be unbelievable if we didnât.â
âThereâs still a difference between risks and hurting other people for no reason!â
âThere is a reason.â
âWhat?â
âWeâre pilots. We combine our expertise with our peopleâs traditions to take flight. Demonstrating the meaning of battle is proof of our nobility and a testament to our culture. We arenât like the Zentradi.â
âYouâre calling one-sided violence like that culture!?â
âEarthâs history is a history of war. Conflict is the force that drove mankind to evolve and propelled us out into the sea of stars. Vanquish embodies that chivalrous warrior spirit! Itâs only natural for the strong to stomp out the weak.â
âThatâs just a phony justification for your sadism!â
ââThatâs how you describe my noble fighting style? I wonât let that comment pass, Zentra Girl.â
âWhat? What does being Zentradi have to do with this!?â
ââ!â
They got so close that their noses were almost touching, their shadows overlapped.
Invisible sparks flew from their gazes, a tension akin to bloodlust that left no room for intervention.
And yet, a man with a chicken wing in his hand pulled the two apart.
âAlright. Thatâs enough, you two.â
ââHakuna!?ââ
Their voices echoed out in unison, entirely by accident.
â„â„â„
Hakuna was a mysterious man. It was like his very presence made the atmosphere of imminent conflict in a room shift into something more peaceful somehow. It was no different that day on the tarmac.
âWh-What!? Th-Th-This Zentra Girl is living with you!?â
Her eyes widened in shock, her face turning beet red all the way to her ears. The red-haired girl jumped to her feet.
âDonât say it like that, Lena. Itâs a complicated situation. Iâm just letting her stay at my place.â
âDonât common folk call that âliving togetherâ!?â
The red-haired pilot, whom Hakuna had called âLena,â clung to his chest and shouted at him.
âN-No, itâs not like that! Iâve taken her in out of necessity!â
She was still angry at her rough play earlier, but there was another kind of anger toward this woman swirling within Chelsea. She wasnât entirely sure what it was, but it was anger nonetheless.
Itâs bad enough that I have to live with an incomprehensible man like him, but now I have to sit and watch it get treated like some kind of scandal!?
ââHonestly, I canât believe it.â
Lena stared at Chelsea with the kind of look one might give a stray dog on the side of the road.
âI just canât accept that a little girl like you whoâd never even heard of Vanquish before now gets to stand next to Hakuna, the Uncrowned Emperor, as his teammate!â
âWhy is this still about Hakuna!?â
âIâve been trying to recruit Hakuna as my own teammate and partner for a long time now. For meâno, for every Vanquish Racerâheâs the man we need to surpass. The legendary racer who has skills on par with the fastest man in the galaxy, Nicolas Berthier, but still canât take his crown because he doesnât have a team. I simply cannot agree to this. For Hakuna to suddenly welcome some random woman as his teammate out of nowhere! Thereâs just no way I can accept that!â
âPartner, you say?â
Hakuna scratched his head with a look of confusion.
âYeah. If you joined up with me, Iâd have better maintenance and staff waiting for you. For someone after Berthierâs crown like youââ
âI appreciate the offer, but youâre moving too fast for me, Lena Zielonaska.â
â!? Then how do you explain parading around with Zentra Girl over here!? You know full well how I feel about you, and stillâŠ!â
Irritated, Lena took off her glove and threw it right at Chelsea.
âWhaâŠ?â
âLetâs duel, Zentra Girl!â
âDuel!?â
âIn the next race, weâll settle if Iâm right or you are! I am Magdalena Zielonaska, noblewoman of the Republic of Poland, and I wonât take no for an answer!â
Proclaiming the name of a country that no longer existed, the girl stood proud against the setting sun.
Chelsea had no national history to claim. So, in her eyes Magdalena seemed like the ghost of Earth-borne mankind.
â„â„â„
The morning of their duel arrived; frenzied enthusiasm engulfed Island Reno.
The two participating Valkyries were gathered on the scorching runway.
Based on her score and time in the qualifier, Chelseaâs starting position was ninth. It wasnât the worst, but it certainly wasnât the best.
Her AI system, BrĂŒnhilde, was in excellent condition. A wonderful harmony emanated from her. Robbins Family seemed to have done a perfect job.
âI should ask⊠are you really doing this duel with Lena?â
A transmission from Hakuna, who was in sixth.
âSheâs not your only enemy. Thereâs still Shinseiâs Brauhitsch and the other races to worry about. If you get yourself into trouble for no good reason, youâll just be her next victim.â
âI know.â
âLena Zielonaska is a Valkyrie killer. She makes absolutely sure to destroy other Variable Fighters. Some rumors even say that she hates Valkyries. If youâre wondering about her skills, theyâre really something else.â
More than that, Lenaâs starting position was an impressive first. She had torn that VF-11 to pieces and still managed to rack up the highest score. From where Chelsea sat, her deep crimson machine seemed impossibly far away.
And then there was her plane. The SV-52Îł was practically one-of-a-kind, a lost model developed for an old war that sheâd restored using her own money. It was a red Valkyrie with unknown performance and techniques.
âBut the way she flies brings nothing but dissonance to the sky. I canât stand the noise of it.â
Chelsea checked her instruments meticulously.
She hadnât been so focused on a flight since her first.
âI get it. From a teamwork perspective, if you just mark and hold her down in pole position, thatâll make it easier for me to win, so I appreciate that. But, ChelseaâŠâ
ââ?â
âNah⊠you donât need my unsolicited advice. Itâd be strange for a coyote to tell a wren how to sing its song as it leaves the nest. Iâll just pray that the White Maize Woman grants you the insight you need.â
âŠHe was a strange man.
But she didnât find him unpleasant. It was clear that he was looking out for her. So, at the very least, this did put her a little more at ease.
â„â„â„
The Vanquish racers took off from Island Reno and broke out into space one after the next.
Until they cleared the Reno section, restrictions were placed on their course and transformations, so there werenât any major changes in their placements. That was what made the starting position so important. The order there directly translated to an advantage in the flag area.
Brauhitschâs VF-1 took the lead, with âCannonballâ Angeloniâs VF-171 and Hakunaâs VF-1 close behind.
Hm⊠itâs that one!
Lenaâs red plane, the SV-52, had broken away from the leading group and was now gliding gracefully through space.
â...I can hear you, Chelsea.â
âLena!â
Communication during a race was divided between dedicated channels for each team and an open channel for the wider network as a whole. The open channel existed as a measure to allow pilots to request rescue from other pilots as quickly as possible in case of any emergency. Though, in practice, it was standard for teammates to use their own dedicated channel to coordinate with one another.
In other words, using the open channel to deliberately broadcast your planeâs status to members of the other teams was completely foolish.
And yet, Lena Zielonaska, the Crimson Rose, was enough of a fool to do just that.
âIâve been waiting for you. Now, our duel can begin! With the rose emblem on my Oryol and the pride of my clan by my side, Iâll send you sinking into the sea of stars!â
â...Itâll be my pleasure!â
Not because sheâd been challenged.
Not because sheâd been insulted.
Purely because this deep crimson Valkyrie made a sound that disturbed the song within her.
The two Variable Fighters plunged themselves down toward Island Reno. The Vanquish race was a battle that circled this island and the space around it.
â„â„â„
The skies around the Environment Ship were cramped.
At the altitude of two thousand metersâsix thousand feetâtheyâd have nowhere left to go.
âThis thingâitâs so fast!!â
Lena Zielonaskaâs SV-52. Its crimson wings blocked Chelseaâs VF-19âs path like a phoenix's wingspan covering the sky.
If they kept accelerating this way, a collision was inevitable. The Nothung had a pinpoint barrier, so it might survive, but the worst-case scenario would destroy the SV-52.
She had no choice. She banked, then dipped slightly downward. Above her, she saw the emblem of a rose. The plane was just as gaudy as its pilot.
âI knew you were a coward!â
âWhat!?â
Lenaâs mocking voice echoed over the radio, sending Chelsea into a rage. She was being looked down upon.
âWith a plane like thatâno, with skills like yours, you still let a chance to take me down pass you by! Do you seriously think you can beat me like this!?â
Taunting her, the SV-52 banked sharply.
It accelerated even further. It was high-risk flying, navigating the tight space just beneath the canopy. Its crimson wings had a glow, trailing streaks of clouds behind them.
âBut, IâŠ!â
âI suppose a Zentradi like you just canât understand sportsmanship! You win by doing everything you can within the rules, a tradition that has been carried on since the tourneys of medieval knights!â
âEven so, I wonât accept that kind of fighting!â
Sheâd heard that Bloomberg had been seriously wounded by that downburst. Even if his life wasnât at risk, she couldnât forgive her for stripping someone of their wings.
âYou couldâve won without doing something like that! Is this really something to take pride in!?â
âItâs only natural that I won! Itâs in how you win, how spectacularly you do it! That is what makes a knight a knight!â
âThen thereâs no way I can forgive a stunt like that!!â
She pressed the point.
The Nothungâs fuselage, blending into Island Renoâs blue sky, left a trail of water vapor as it closed in on Lenaâs SV-52.
âOkay, then⊠what are you going to do about it!?â
The SV-52 moved its nose upward, as if it was standing upright against the ground. It applied all of its air brakes at once.
Pugachevâs Cobra!?
An aerial combat maneuver devised by Viktor Pugachev of the former Soviet Union: a planeâs pitch is raised to ninety degrees in mid-flight. By forcibly bringing the plane to a halt in the stall zone, the enemy plane is forced to overshoot, allowing a pilot to position themselves behind them.
LenaâŠ! Is she trying to shoot me down!?
She shouldnât have been equipped with any machine guns, but they were all authorized to carry a comms laser. If she aimed it directly at her cockpit at full power, she could take Chelsea down in a single shot. Lena had the skill to pull it off, too.
âGrhâŠ!â
She never expected it, but the chances werenât zero. It was unforgivable for an S.M.S. pilot to underestimate the possibility of it and let her enemy get behind her.
She raised her nose. Moving the EX Gearâs legs in sync with the two-dimensional vector nozzles, the Nothung did a Cobra maneuver as well, rising up to prevent Lena from getting behind her.
âHeh⊠following my lead, are you?â
âOf course⊠I am!â
Trailing water vapor behind them, the two Valkyries stared each other down, both still in the Cobra maneuver.
The time that passed felt like an eternity.
âBut the Vanquish is just getting started, Chelsea Scarlett!â
The SV-52 began rotating itself 270 degrees backward to return to its original flight position.
Kulbit!!
The Nothung followed suit.
Their restored flight positions were nearly identical.
Entangled with one another, the azure and crimson Valkyries plunged toward the pinpoint barrier gate.
â„â„â„
âWowie, theyâre really going at it.â
Hakuna narrowed his eyes as he watched Chelsea and Lena hurtling through the void of space on his rear-view monitor.
Of course, he hadnât given up on the race, either. On the contrary, he was using each of his senses to the fullest, coaxing his finicky engine into behaving, despite the fact that it could explode at any moment. Banking at his planeâs absolute limit, keeping an eye on his remaining fuel.
His ability to perform all of these tasks and keep his awareness spread across his surroundings was like an ancient swordsman feeling every single strand of his sword hiltâs cord while keeping focused on the enemies around him.
In terms of pure aircraft performance, Chelsea had the upper hand.
The latest L.A.I. model built from a brand-new frame would inevitably come out on top against an anachronistic machine restored from fifty years ago.
As for piloting skill, Hakuna estimated that the two women were basically evenly matched. No, he might have even said that Chelsea held a slight advantage, given that she had better reaction times and was more genetically suited to tolerate G-force than her Earthling opponent.
But Vanquish was another story. Lenaâs skill and nerve, her ability to fly on the designated course, her mastery of the terrain and the course itself far surpassed Chelseaâs. Above all, her fighting style that never feared going too rough or making contact would put constant pressure on Chelsea and stop her from using her true abilities.
âAlrightâitâs about time, Brauhitsch! Thanks to the goddess, victory is within our grasp!â
Hakuna sent his VF-1 accelerating forward, closing in on Brauhitschâs VF-19.
â„â„â„
That GERWALK⊠her moves are incredible!
Back in the Reno desert for the third time, Chelsea was breathless.
The VF-19 was designed as a stealth combat attack plane equipped with Fold Boosters, intended to carry out pinpoint strikes against enemy command centers and the cores of fleets in outer space. Consequently, its GERWALK Mode was designed for rapid deceleration and directional changes during aerial combat, and for high-speed movement across the surface of enemy ships. So, the GERWALKâs typical fine maneuverability wasnât prioritized to the same extent as its Battroid and Fighter Modes.
But the SV-52 was different.
Its massive wings, drawn like a seagullâs, caught the wind with precision. The combination of lift jets mounted on its underside and thermonuclear jets in its legs gave it truly smooth, three-dimensional maneuvering up and down in all directions.
A bird, yet not a bird. A human, yet not a human.
By the time they left the GERWALK area, a gap of at least thirty seconds had opened up between Lena and Chelsea.
And there was only one reason that she didnât attack in GERWALK Mode.
Here it is!
The moment she entered the flag zone and transformation was authorized, Chelsea transformed the Nothung into Battroid Mode. The sky-blue wings of the GERWALK folded like a sword entering its sheath, and the azure colossus revealed itself. Gunfire from the SV-52 burst out from behind a rock, exploding the exact same instant that she concentrated a pinpoint barrier on her left armâs shield.
I knew itâsheâs not hesitating to shoot right at my cockpit!
Even if they were just riot control stun rounds, a direct hit on the cockpit of a Valkyrie moving at high-speed would almost unavoidably cause a life-threatening accident. Blocking the gunfire with its barrier, the Nothung leaped into the air.
âThe Nothung, was it?â
âYeahâpretty good machine, isnât she?â
âYes. Nothung, sword of Siegfried. Its roots are in Norse mythology, the holy sword Gram that Sigurd drew from the stone. The legend shares the same roots as Excalibur, or Caliburn, that was passed down by the people of England, whose bloodline comes from the same Norman source.â
Even in the heat of battle, Lenaâs voice was calm, as if reciting a poem. Or maybe, for her, battle itself was the song of her soul. Her voice had an air of ignorance, but it was unclouded.
âSo then⊠Do you understand the meaning of the name?â
More gunfire. Reaching the flag area first and picking up the scattered gunpods was immensely important. At the peak of her ascent, she transformed into Fighter Mode, flipped back in Battroid mode just as it reached the minimum altitude, and then took cover behind the rocks once more.
â...The meaning of it?â
ââYou arenât an Earthling, but were given the name Chelsea Scarlett, a name forced upon you! Now, you stand before someone of noble blood like myself, brandishing a mythical sword which your blood holds no connection to! I cannot forgive such selfishness!â
âTch! Youâre so arrogant!â
âIf you really are Zentradi, you should fight like one!â
The SV-52 charged headfirst toward the unarmed Nothung. Of course, even if she wasnât unarmed, Chelsea likely wouldnât have fired.
Unable to hold back the gunfire any longer, her pinpoint barrier vanished. Even with the immense energy generated by its thermonuclear burst engine, the Nothung couldn't maintain the barrier indefinitely. Its arm, struck by a shock round, splayed out and then slumped.
Before her eyes, the massive red SV-52 transformed into Battroid Mode, looming closer. It was huge! It was a head or two taller than even the VF-19. Chelsea knew that there was an absolute difference between them in terms of power and weight during close combat.
âSo the rumors are true! Youâre a Zentran who canât even fire her gun!â
An open-palmed chop from the SV-52 struck her left side, where sheâd dropped her guard.
The intense shock of it was transmitted through the energy-conversion armor and shook her cockpit.
âYou canât wage war! You canât imitate our culture! Screw letting you stand by Hakunaâs side! I wonât even let a half-baked failure like you pilot a Valkyrie!â
âWho are you to talk!?â
Her plane shook violently.
The SV-52 had seized the VF-19âs shoulder and arm. Chelsea realized that she was trying to slam her entire craft, cockpit and all, into the rocky shore.
If I could⊠just shoot herâŠ!
Her finger reached for the trigger.
The anti-aircraft laser on its head was reserved for laser communication. If she smashed it into her face to destroy the sensors, or fired it into her wing to damage her transforming mechanism, then maybeâŠ
But, no matter what she tried, her finger simply wouldnât move that final millimeter.
She just couldnât play that note.
âThis is the end for you, Zentra Girl! Crawl through the Reno desert to repent for stepping foot onto a stage you never belonged on!â
Itâs the same.
Just like when sheâd lost her voice.
Just like when sheâd felt abandoned by culture itself.
She could feel it. The unwavering pride and resolve of the girl standing before her. Even with all of her prejudice, she had a nobility, a love for tradition, and a steadfast soul that believed in the person that she was. That soul, the sound of her heart, was resonating through her armor. Chelsea didnât have anything of the sort.
Iâm⊠nothing.
An empty shell, clad in hollow armor, could never stand up to a steadfast soul like hers. The thought bound her like chains.
Her shoulder armor had shattered. The linear actuators in her joints wailed from the overload.
That was when it happened.
âChelsea!â
A voice.
A rough, crude voice without any musical quality whatsoever.
But a beautiful voice nonetheless.
The wings of the VF-1 passed overhead as it engaged in a fierce dogfight with Brauhitschâs VF-19.
Chelsea surely heard the message that those wings carried.
âDonât forget! In the sky, thereâs not just forward or backward!â
It wasnât a call for backup. He may not have even spoken at allâthey were simply the words she wished for, spoken in the face of defeat.
Even so, the sound was certainly there. It resonated.
And the sky was even more certainly there.
That was whyâŠ
âLook up at the sky. Lift your head. Toward this sky!!â
â!?â
Full-throttle thrust. The VF-19ACTIVEâs full thrust propelled it upward.
âWh-whatâŠ! Zentra GirlâŠ!?â
âHrrryaaahh!â
An emergency full-throttle thrust from the thermonuclear burst engine was capable of propelling a ten-ton craft out of a planetâs gravitational field in under three minutes. Even with the SV-52âs weight added to it, lifting the weight was a breeze. Through the EX Gear, she manipulated the variable winglets on the Nothungâs hips. Manipulating the aerodynamics, cutting through the wind, flipping her planeâs orientation.
She converged the pinpoint barrier onto her shoulders. Using the sweeping motion of transforming into GERWALK Mode, she shattered the SV-52âs fingers and put strain on its joints.
The VF-19 had forcibly broken free from the SV-52âs grip.
âNo way! My Oryol wasâŠ!?â
âIâm not finished yet!!â
Her fuselage buckled, exposing the VF-19âs cockpit block. The process was simple to describe, but to execute a transformation with several tons of metal crashing into her required a level of boldness that surprised even Chelsea herself.
Her right shoulder was unable to withstand the strain and was blown off along with its armor. But what did it matter? At this range, she could still maneuver without it.
Reverse! She transformed into Fighter Mode and accelerated with all engines at full throttle.
As they passed each other, she reshaped the Nothungâs wings into a form optimized for cutting. It was only possible because of OTM variable materials, support from her control AI BrĂŒnhilde, and the godlike speed at which Chelsea could input data. Her intense training at the S.M.S. had made it possible.
âIf I have to! I can wreck it in spectacular fashion!â
A sword.
Indeed, it was the single swing of a sword.
It was in the genealogy of holy swords that had shone in the hands of hero kings since time immemorial.
Like a bolt of lightning, like a descendant revelation, the Nothungâs wing sliced through the crimson wing opposing it.
The slash, which channeled the machineâs entire output into the wingâs energy conversion armor and pinpoint barrier, was far too sharp. The SV-52âs energy conversion armor was sliced through like butter.
She watched as the SV-52 spiralled out of control and slammed into the ground.
As Chelsea went into a steep dive, she saw the ground looming beneath her. But, a Valkyrie was not an airplane. It was not bound by a single form. She extended her legs and performed an emergency stop in GERWALK Mode.
Her knees were unable to withstand the impact of the land and shattered.
That was the price for redirecting power to her conversion armor and barriers. No, she was lucky that she landed at all, even if it cost her her knees. One wrong move and she couldâve just as easily been impaled through the cockpit and buried at the bottom of the Environment Ship.
The Nothung spun wildly and came to a halt. It had ended in a draw.
In other words, both had retired.
But as she looked up at the sky, Chelsea saw Hakunaâs VF-1 overtaking Brauhitschâs VF-19.
That was enough for her.
Oddly enough, the cheers directed at her didnât make her feel uncomfortable, either.
â„â„â„
âYou put on quite the show out there.â
âHuh?â
It came as a surprise to Chelsea that it was Lena whoâd extended her white hand toward her as she watched Hakuna at the podium.
âD-donât get the wrong idea. Iâm not saying that I acknowledge you as a worthy teammate for Hakuna. Itâs justâŠâ
âItâs justâŠ?â
âItâs just that Iâve acknowledged that you have the qualities necessary to be a worthy rival. Only the strong have the right to uphold their pride. With that belief in mind, itâs irrelevant whether youâre pure or Zentra.â
â...â
Chelsea was taken aback for a moment. Her words were surprisingly straightforward.
âI saw that you have enough pride to be a Vanquish competitor. Earning Hakunaâs acknowledgement by fighting you should be entertaining⊠Er, wh-what? Rejoice! Iâm saying that I recognize you as an equal rival!â
â...Okay.â
After a moment of hesitation, Chelsea took her hand. It was surprisingly soft and warm.
âOkay, okayâBut I wonât lose to you, Lena Zielonaska!â
âGo ahead and try, Chelsea Scarlett!â
The two women tightened their grips on each otherâs hands.
Indeed, since this wasnât a fight to the death, there would be a next time. Just as the sky stretches on without end.
NEXT RIDE Translated by TrafalgarLog Edited by PixelatedShinobi and Melos Catcher













