Macross Delta: Pale Shooting Star Sings on the Battlefield - Coordinates of Betrayal

The ceiling of the supply warehouse was high, and the exposed steel beams cast dim shadows. Souma Kakeru woke up on a thin mat. He had barely slept the night before. Freyja's trembling voice echoed repeatedly in his head. *If it means saving my sister, I'll do anything.* The weight of those words had sunk cold and deep into his chest. The old scar on his neck throbbed in the damp air. When he stepped outside the hangar, the morning sea breeze carried the scent of salt. The Chaos Ragna branch base was noisier than usual. On the runway, the maintenance crew bustled about, loading armaments onto the VF-31 Siegfrieds. The massive form of the Macross Elysion, floating on the distant sea, gleamed dully in the morning haze. "[serious]Souma Kakeru." A low voice came from behind him. He turned to find Arad Mölders, commander of Delta Flight, standing there. Close-cropped black hair, sharp eyes. A tablet terminal in his hand. "[serious]You're sortieing today. A formation from the Vindermeer Aerial Knights is targeting a transport convoy off the coast of Ragna. You'll be joining the interception mission." Souma's chest tightened. His first real battle. His palms grew damp. "[firm]Yes, sir." "[cold]You're in the rear, on rearguard watch. Don't push forward." With just those words, Arad walked off toward the briefing room. Souma hurried to the hangar. He spotted the chief mechanic, Makina Nakajima, inspecting the landing gear of a VF-31. "[surprised]Oh, Souma-kun. Finally your first real fight?" "[serious]Yes. Though I'm in the rear." "[gentle]You'll be fine. With those eyes of yours, I'm sure you'll be useful." Makina's words eased the tension in his shoulders, just a little. Deep in the hangar, a figure moved. It emerged from beneath the main wing of a VF-31. Spiky, bluish-silver hair. Ice-blue eyes that gave off a cold light. A small, cross-shaped scar on the left cheek. Delta Flight's ace, Hayate Immelmann. Hayate glanced at Souma. There was no emotion in his eyes. Just a coldness, like he was looking at a pest. "[cold]Commander." Ignoring Souma, Hayate walked toward Arad. Arad stopped. "[cold]You're sending an irregular amateur into real combat?" His voice was flat. He wasn't shouting. He was merely stating a rational opinion. But the coldness that seeped from the edges of his words showed he didn't see Souma as a person at all. "[serious]Rear support. He won't be joining the fight." "[cold]We don't need dead weight. He'll be in the way." For the first time, Hayate turned his face toward Souma. Those icy eyes stared fixedly at him. His lips twisted into a thin sneer. "[cold]The sky is my domain. Amateurs stay out." With that, he turned on his heel. His back grew distant. Staring at that back, Souma gritted his teeth. The regular pilots who had lost to him in simulated battles had looked at him the same way at first. But Hayate's eyes were different. It wasn't jealousy. There was a deeper, calculated hostility there. (*This guy is dangerous.*) His instincts were sounding an alarm. ―――――――――――――――――――― Fifteen minutes after sortie. The sky was filled with the roar of steel. Above the coast of Ragna, five VF-31 Siegfrieds of Delta Flight and six Sv-262 Draken IIIs of the Vindermeer Aerial Knights were locked in fierce combat. Missile exhaust drew countless white lines across the sky, and Vulcan tracer rounds streaked orange trails of light. Waiting in the rear, Souma surveyed the entire battlefield. His kinetic vision captured every movement in slow motion. Missile trajectories, enemy movements, friendly evasion patterns—he could see it all clearly. That was when. He saw three enemy missiles closing in on one of their own, callsign Delta 2. An attack from an angle a normal pilot wouldn't notice. "[serious]Delta 2, three missiles from your left rear! Evade right, now!" He shouted into the comms. A beat later, Delta 2 banked sharply to the right. The missiles passed right beside the craft. "[surprised]...You saved me. Kakeru, good eyes." A brief thanks came from the pilot of Delta 2. Souma let out a small breath. That was his second successful warning since the battle began. He was preventing friendly fire. For the first time, he felt like he was functioning as a member of Delta Flight. From the distance, a singing voice began to reach him. Freyja Wion's song. Walküre's fold waves stimulated Souma's brain through the comm lines. His vision became even clearer. He could read the missile trajectories as if they were in the palm of his hand. This exhilaration—clouded his judgment. Twenty minutes into the engagement. Hayate's voice came over the comms. "[cold]Souma Kakeru. Fall back to rear defense line coordinates Bravo-7 immediately. Friendly forces will provide cover." Souma's hand stopped. Something flickered through his mind for just a moment. The reason he couldn't sleep the night before. The words Freyja had said in the comms room—*If it means saving my sister, I'll do anything.* And the cold look in Hayate's eyes before the sortie. (*Isn't he trying to eliminate me?*) His instincts sounded an alarm. His distrust of Hayate blared a warning in his head. Don't trust him. He's dangerous. But— The voice of Delta 2's pilot thanking him lingered in his ears. The feeling that he had finally been able to function as an ally remained warm in his chest. (*Rather than being paralyzed by doubt, moving while trusting someone will let me protect others.*) Souma convinced himself of that. Maybe he wanted to be convinced. He didn't want to deny the version of himself that, for the first time in this world, had felt "useful." "[firm]Roger. Heading to coordinates Bravo-7." That was his fatal mistake. ―――――――――――――――――――― Coordinates Bravo-7 was above the sea of Ragna. There was nothing around. No friendly silhouettes, no cover comms. Just the vast expanse of gray clouds and the white-capped sea below. Souma realized it. *This is wrong. This isn't a defense line.* In that moment. Shadows appeared from three directions. Sv-262 Draken IIIs. Black and purple airframes. Through the cockpits, he could see the glowing runes of the Windermerean pilots. Three craft, in a perfect encirclement formation. "[cold]Eliminate." That single, short word came over the comms. A simultaneous volley. Six missiles launched at once. Souma's kinetic vision caught each trajectory in slow motion. First one, evade right. Second, dive sharply to dodge. Third—bank left. But. He couldn't fully read a saturation attack from three craft at once. The fourth missile hit the left wing directly. A roar. The impact slammed his body against the seat. The left wing exploded, and the craft began to spin violently. Cockpit warning alarms blared. Red lights flashed at the edge of his vision. Two more hits. The central fuselage was struck. He heard the sound of armor tearing. Sharp metal fragments flew into the cockpit. The first grazed his right shoulder. The second tore into his left flank. The third—stabbed deep into his thigh. "[pain]Gah—" A voiceless scream escaped him. Blood stained the seat red. The pain blurred his vision white. The craft spiraled down toward the sea surface. All the instruments were destroyed. The altimeter needle spun wildly, and the horizon tumbled over and over. Macross Delta Isekai Transfer — Souma Kakeru's Battlefield A voice mixed into the comms. Hayate's voice. He wasn't angry. He wasn't scolding. He was just quietly sending a situation report to someone on a different frequency. "[cold]Elimination complete. Confirming coordinates Bravo-7. Craft has crashed into Ragna waters." Souma understood the meaning of those words. This wasn't an order. It was a trap. From the very beginning, Hayate had designated these coordinates with the intent to kill him. He had arranged an ambush, disguised himself as an ally, and driven Souma to his death. (*Why—*) His breathing grew ragged. Blood clogged his throat, making it hard to breathe. The shard embedded in his thigh gouged his flesh with every movement. Cold sweat ran down his forehead and into his eyes. The sea surface rushed up before him. Seconds until impact. (*Am I going to die here?*) Coming to another world, achieving nothing, with no one to witness his end, rotting at the bottom of the sea. It was just like when he was alone in the real world. In the end, was he going to be alone until the very last? His consciousness faded. What surfaced in his mind wasn't Hayate's face. It was Freyja Wion's profile. Her silver hair, swaying in the wind as she gazed at the Ragna sea from the terrace seats of Café Nova. (*Was that smile... real?*) No answer came. The craft slammed into the sea surface. A roar. Impact. Spray covered the cockpit. Cold seawater rushed in through the gaps in the torn armor. His vision went dark. In the moment his consciousness cut out—he thought he heard a singing voice, far away. Freyja's song. But he couldn't hear it anymore. ―――――――――――――――――――― The sea of Ragna silently swallowed the fallen craft. Only oil stains and a few metal fragments floated on the surface. Above, the battle still raged on. No one noticed that a single VF-31 had vanished. Over Delta Flight's comm lines, Hayate's voice rang out. "[cold]Enemy craft retreating. No need to pursue. All units, return to base." There was no hesitation in his voice. Beneath the blue sky, inside the cockpit sinking to the seabed, Souma Kakeru did not move. His blood dissolved into the seawater, spreading red. The remnants of fold waves faintly traveled through the water, enveloping his body. Softly—the fingers of his right hand moved, just slightly. He was still alive. For just a brief moment, consciousness returned. The water pressure kept the door from opening. There was no more oxygen. The shard in his leg had reached the bone. (*It's fine... I can still... keep going...*) In his heart, he muttered his usual mantra. But those words were now just a lie he told to deceive himself. His strength drained away. The cold numbed his fingertips. (*Freyja...*) The last thing that surfaced was, after all, her face. The darkness of the deep sea slowly covered his vision.

日本語

Episode 4

Name: Macross Delta: Pale Shooting Star Sings on the Battlefield
Author: Novelia

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