The more non-combat jobs she completes, the faster she can clean up her job board recommendations.
That’s what she’d decided, and now Chihaya is looking for jobs that take her to the Wakagawa Upper Mountain Range — and one catches her eye.
A Unison Human-Machine Technology posting: Transport compressed hydrogen cylinders for hydrogen engines and deliver them to the base.
Apparently they need the cylinders delivered to power the construction machinery being used at the rare metal deposit in the Wakagawa Upper Mountain Range.
In the aftermath of the previous attack, a simple defensive perimeter has been set up near the deposit with Actanoids stationed there permanently. Deliver the cylinders to those Actanoids and the job is done.
The compressed hydrogen cylinders weigh around sixty kilograms each. Well within what an Actanoid can carry.
On top of that, the job is listed as a standing order — apparently because they’re on ambush watch. Keeping the timing of when an Actanoid will arrive with cylinders unpredictable is the plan — wear down anyone lying in wait.
“……yeah, but I don’t want to get ambushed”
The payout is four hundred thousand yen. Plus it looks like they cover a portion of operating expenses.
Expenses being covered is significant. If they’re paying for battery and ammunition costs, avoiding a loss becomes much more likely.
It’s a genuinely attractive job, honestly.
Which is exactly why Chihaya isn’t the only one taking it.
She checks the current loss rate for this job. Just over twelve percent — out of eight accepted runs, one resulted in destruction. And even that one was a Fernleg Scorpion, not a bandit Actor.
This seems safe enough to take.
Under normal circumstances, even these odds would be too much for Chihaya and she’d pass.
But circumstances are a little different right now. She really wants to push combat jobs down on her recommendation list.
Cargo delivery is a standard job type — completing it properly should help dilute the combat weighting.
“o-okay, let’s go……”
※
The representative of Yakugi Technology, Yakugi, was rattled.
His was originally a small-to-medium enterprise, and Yakugi Technology was already in a tight financial position from expenses like establishing a factory in the New Frontier Development Zone.
And now the Actanoids that were his hands and feet in the New Frontier were being destroyed and captured one after another. To a degree that was starting to affect his operations there.
Yakugi — in an unfamiliar suit — steps out of a taxi.
Before him stands an enormous building. A privately owned building on prime land near the New Frontier Development Zone’s city hall.
He swallows, steels himself, and goes in.
“I’m here to see Diet Member Kadohara Tameyuki.”
He states his business at the building’s reception desk, and the woman there smiles pleasantly and presents a card.
The building’s owner, Kadohara Tameyuki, is the representative of one of several factions operating in the New Frontier Development Zone — the one known as the Kadohara Group.
The Kadohara Group is led by Kadohara Tameyuki himself, with revolving-door bureaucrats and their operational staff from ministries including the New Frontier Resource Agency, along with small and medium enterprises like Yakugi Technology.
In other words, Kadohara Tameyuki was Yakugi’s boss — the group chairman, a figure so far above him they might as well have been in different clouds.
Kadohara’s room is in one corner of a large floor on the building’s seventh floor. Yakugi knocks and announces himself.
“Yakugi, representative of Yakugi Technology.”
“Ah, you. Come in.”
A voice with a soft quality and a pressure that somehow pushes down from above invites him in.
Yakugi enters to find two people in the room.
Sitting in a fine leather chair looking at a computer screen is Kadohara Tameyuki — a lean man with sharp eyes and thin-framed glasses. A glimpse of the screen shows a crossword puzzle, about half-filled.
“Do you know this one? It’s a proverb — something something shines for something.”
Kadohara points at part of the screen and addresses the man at his side.
Broad-shouldered and slightly heavyset. He grins with an unpleasant edge and flicks a glance at Yakugi.
Kadohara Tameyuki’s bodyguard, Banba Suita.
Banba shrugs and jerks his chin toward Yakugi.
“Couldn’t say. Why not ask him?”
“Yakugi, do you know it?”
Kadohara finally looks at Yakugi.
Pointed question, Yakugi thinks, pressing down the irritation and answering.
“……Even Amida shines with money.”
“Ah yes, that’s it. You’re quite learned, aren’t you?”
Kadohara feigns admiration and fixes Yakugi with a stare.
“There really are a lot of proverbs about money. I suppose that’s how important it is — in life, in society, throughout history. By the way, what does it mean?”
“That even the Buddha’s blessings grow greater with larger offerings.”
“Banba, you’ve learned something today.”
Kadohara turns to his man, who grins and nods.
“Sure have.”
“Now then, Yakugi. What brings you here?”
He knows full well — Kadohara asks with a blank expression.
Even so, Yakugi has no choice but to ask.
“I’m requesting reinforcement Actanoids to eliminate a hostile Actor.”
Eliminating the Actor known as the Bomber — the one who had been destroying Yakugi Technology Actanoids one after another in such a short span. That was the purpose of this visit, swallowing his pride and coming to Kadohara.
Kadohara studies Yakugi with a look of tired contempt.
“Reinforcements, you say. Yakugi. Actanoids are expensive. Handing command of them to you — a man on a losing streak — is something of a problem, wouldn’t you say?”
The implication is clear enough. Yakugi Technology had been beaten repeatedly by a loaner Allrounder — the kind of unit people mock as an antique, and probably degraded from all that cannibalization to boot.
Berlet. Leaf Sprinter. Conductor. All capable units.
But he can’t leave now.
“The enemy is abnormal! Someone who blew up a Kukumerka grove without hesitation — someone who will do anything to win. If we don’t deal with them now——”
Yakugi trails off. Kadohara’s face goes cold and he presses.
“Deal with them now, or?”
“……they’ll become a threat to us.”
Kadohara snorts derisively and turns back to his crossword.
“The subject is a bit broad, isn’t it? A threat to you — not to us. You have one Actanoid left between you, and you’ve lost the Kukumerka grove. You’re not of any use to us anymore.”
And then, as if remembering, Kadohara glances sideways at Yakugi.
“Your last remaining unit is an Order-series, wasn’t it? I’d be willing to buy it at fair market value. Should be enough to cover your employees’ severance and moving costs.”
“Please wait. I have a card to play. I could expose the smuggling operation with that country, you know.”
He plays what he’d meant as a desperation card — and Kadohara looks at him with an expression of genuine contempt.
“Smuggling? Trading New Frontier flora, fauna, and Actanoid-related technology with foreign nations violates international treaty. Yakugi Technology has been involved in that kind of activity? A serious matter indeed. Should I contact the police?”
The message is implicit and unmistakable — he’s going to be cut loose as a scapegoat. Yakugi had sensed it from the crossword exchange, but the preparations to sever ties with Yakugi Technology were apparently already complete.
Even knowing his trump card is useless, Yakugi pushes.
“Please, wait! The Bomber is a blood-hungry beast! After us, they’ll come for——”
“——Don’t get smart.”
Banba cuts in with a cold snarl, and Yakugi shuts up.
Kadohara, seemingly no longer interested, is entering an answer into his crossword.
Negotiation failed.
“……excuse me.”
Yakugi leaves the room, jaw clenched, and pulls out his phone.
He looks at the Bomber’s account, and steels himself.
“A public acceptance? Trying to bait me, Bomber? ……Your little fireworks show is done.”