Sure, veteran pilots might find the restrictions stifling, but easier coordination with allies was a huge plus.
Of course, once you were fielding multiple units, you would end up with scenes like several four-legged mechs hopping sideways in sync. All it would take was time to refine weapons and tactics to that level of polish.
Probably.
Keita had also proposed a simpler, variant unit that replaced the lower body with tank treads. With that model, the red button would move the mech forward, blue would move it backward, and green would rotate the turret.
There would be no jumping, obviously, but it would simplify movement. Heavier guns could be mounted, and the pilot could focus entirely on aiming and timing. If you let the upper body rotate independently, it would make aiming horizontally that much easier.
The only downsides were that it would basically look like a certain Guntank, and melee combat would be treated as an afterthought.
The last Keita heard, the army was still debating whether to build that version.
In any case, the bottom line was that, thanks to the Command System, even previously immobile units could now perform crude combat maneuvers. That much was a fact.
For Keita, though, the important thing wasn’t that the mass-produced models could move—it was what that movement meant for him.
“You look worried. Something bothering you?” Takafumi asked.
“I was just wondering… Will this be enough to satisfy the Third Division?”
After all, this whole thing had started as a way to appease their jealousy. If they turned around and said, “Sure, it moves, but that’s not good enough!” this entire exercise would have been pointless for Keita.
“Oh, I think it’ll do the trick,” Takafumi replied. “The thing barely moved at all before. Now it’s jumping sideways. They’ll figure it’s just a matter of improving skills from here.”
“Let’s hope so.”
The pilots would be thrown into intensive training, and the mechanical components would need reworking. Combining the control system with other commands, reducing flexibility to boost control—there would be tons of work for pilots, engineers, and officers alike.
Amid all that chaos, who would have time to bother Keita?
That was how Takafumi saw things. But Keita couldn’t shake off a gnawing doubt.
“You’re still feeling anxious, huh?”
“…Yeah. I heard something from someone in the Third Division. The fifth- and ninth-ranked students in class, Kasahara and Obata, have apparently volunteered to pilot the mass-produced units.”
“Oh? Well, I can’t say I’m surprised.”
The Third Division was desperate to rack up military achievements, and the very people who had given them this opportunity were Keita and Takafumi. It was easy enough to guess what Kasahara and Obata had in mind.
If he could do it, maybe we can, too.
If he could take down multiple large-class monsters solo…
If he could achieve glory…
It was little wonder they would think that way. What’s more, it made sense for military commanders to let students test the mass-produced hybrid mechs. Students didn’t have ingrained habits, whereas experienced pilots already had their own units and fighting styles.
The problem was that the students in question were clearly in a rush to prove themselves.
Of course, it was unlikely they would try to interfere with Keita directly, since he was the one who’d provided the technology in the first place. And if they were to plan anything, Saori Muto would likely catch wind of it before anything got off the ground.
That wasn’t what Keita was worried about.
“…Don’t you think they’ll want to take those units into battle as they are now?”
“…Ah. So that’s what it is.”
The recent tests had proven that with the Command System, even the mass-produced models, which had previously been incapable of moving, could now be piloted.
It was obvious what the military’s next move would be—refining the operation of those units and re-creating the firepower and mobility it wanted in the first place. In other words, restoring and testing the second prototype unit.
The problem was, there was a good chance the guys piloting the mechs were thinking, If we can dodge sideways and shoot like Keita, we’re good enough for real-world combat. And if they came to that mistaken conclusion, they’d want to prove it.
If they chose to go into battle of their own free will, it was their own fault if they got themselves killed. It wasn’t Keita’s responsibility. But would the Third Division see it that way? That was the real question. And frankly, it was hard to be optimistic.
If they had that kind of self-restraint, Keita wouldn’t have had to worry about being targeted out of spite in the first place. He could have told Shoko Isotani and Saori Muto his concerns, but they likely would have just laughed at him and told him he was being paranoid.
“There’s a real chance they might do something stupid,” Takafumi answered. “And if they do, you’ll probably have to head into battle, too, as a point of comparison.”
“…I figured.”
“I’m not gonna lie, I’m curious myself. I couldn’t care less about those brats in the Third Division, but I do want to see what your mech can really do. So be ready for it.”
By now, Takafumi understood that Keita’s goal wasn’t fame or promotion but to live a quiet life with his sister. Yet even knowing that, as an engineer and company president, he couldn’t justify letting Unit 1 and its pilot sit on the sidelines.
“Yeah… Guess I’ll hop on the simulator.”
“Good man.”
At least it seemed like he’d managed to avoid the worst-case scenario: being attacked out of petty jealousy. But the next-worst case, being thrown into live combat as part of training, was looking pretty unavoidable.
Faced with that harsh reality, Keita dived back into simulator training to boost his chances of surviving the coming battles.