The Jeager Project

ANOTHER SIDE "A3"

"Good morning, A3." The moment I opened my eyes, I was baffled by the greeting from the rectangular box. I thought I was still dreaming. But I've seen this talking box before. When I met No. 2 and No. 9 at the forest castle, this box was floating next to them. It had transmitted that revolting voice. That woman that said whatever she wanted, about how I was a traitor and that I was a dangerous android. Just thinking about it made me annoyed, so I was planning on ignoring the box. "I am support unit Pod 042. I will assist JeaGer android A3 with artillery support." "I didn't ask for that." "Affirmative: I did not receive an order from A3. This action was directed by the previous user, 3R, as a final directive." "Don't worry about it." "JeaGer android A3 does not have the right to decline." Eventually I got tired of resisting and let the box do whatever it wanted. But it was really a useless box in terms of its so-called "support." When I asked it about the identity of the strange fissure-inducing structure, the only thing it said was, "Unclear, but speculated to be the Machines' doing." Even when I asked it about the whereabouts of 3R's corpse or 8S, it echoed "Unable to answer." If anything, its artillery function was useful. Since I didn't have the means to perform long-range attacks, it conveniently diversified my attack maneuvers, though I was fed up with it trying to act like it was doing me a favor, saying things like, "Recommendation: Gratitude to this support unit for providing the user with long-range attack capabilities." 

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e38391e382b9e382abe383abe381a8e381aee587bae4bc9ae38184 I was furious. I was perpetually enraged at the Machines that killed my comrades. So much so that I was unable to restrain myself from killing them. That's why, when I met this one, I had planned on killing it immediately. I declared, "I'll have you pay for the sin of killing my comrades." "Is that right? Then it cannot be helped, if doing so will appease you." Despite being a Machine, that's how it answered, with surprisingly sophisticated diction. It was slightly bowing its head, waiting patiently for my sword to be swung down. A somewhat unsettled feeling overcame me. "You are not going to kill me?" it asked in a bewildered voice. "Shut up," I told it, shooing it away. It informed me that its name was Pascal, and after saying, "Thank you very much," it flew off. Thank you? A Machine using words of gratitude? A lowly Machine? It upset me even more...that I spared a Machine.

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"No. 3... You're alive." Anemone's reaction to our reunion was just how I imagined—that Anemone would make the same face I did when I first discovered Anemone was still alive. I had been living with the guilt that I was the only one who survived out of my comrades. Anemone had most likely felt the same way. Anemone and I had carried out a mission together. It was during the enemy server destruction plan, on Oahu, in the Pacific. It was a battle also known as the Pearl Harbor Descent Attack. There, both Anemone and I lost allies. We sent what seemed like an endless number of rescue requests to Command. But none were acknowledged, and our comrades fell one by one. Eventually I had lost all my comrades in the JeaGer squadron, and Anemone had lost all her comrades in the resistance. At that point Anemone and I had been operating separately, and we must have both assumed that we were the last one standing. Then I uncovered the truth, and fled the battlefield. Command had been planning on abandoning us from the start. We were an experimental fleet with the purpose of providing battle data until the last member died. It seemed Anemone was not aware of this fact. That was better for her. If she found out, she would not be able to forgive. She would not be able to forgive Command, which ruthlessly abandoned its troops on the front lines. "That's right, NO. 3. There's a JeaGer that's identical to you. Her name is 3R, and..." "She died." "What?" "I killed her. She was infected by a logic virus." "I see." Anemone fell silent. She was being considerate, and I was grateful. Anemone and I had both executed comrades that were infected by logic viruses. To minimize their misery and allow them to die while they were in control of their consciousness...that was why we killed them. There were no words that could console us. Sensing that it was probably better to wrap up conversations about the past, I decided to cut straight to the point. I asked her if she could spare me a fuel filter. My filter was clogged from fighting in the desert. Until now, I had been foraging parts off of the corpses of my pursuers when I needed repairs or replacements. The parts weren't specific to my chassis, so I looked shoddy, but functionally there was no problem. But now all the JeaGer androids were infected by the virus. If I used an infected part, I would be infected as well. That's why I decided to ask my longtime acquaintance for a favor. But the resistance camp was out of stock. If I wasn't able to procure the part here, there was nowhere else I could go. As I debated on what to do, Anemone suggested something unbelievable. "Pascal's village makes fuel filters, so you should go get one from him." "Pascal..." "Ah, you know him." "An enemy!" "His village is an exception. They won't harm us." "But...still..." "We formed an alliance with them, and exchange resources when necessary. If you need something, you don't have many options. And..." "And?" "We're not so heartless as to kill enemies who meet us under white flags."