Chapter 134: Dog Summit

Let us talk about dogs.

That said, I do not mean actual dogs.

I mean people like us, the ones affiliated with Doggy House and called Dogs.

This system, which took advantage of the difficulty of long-distance communication caused by Tree Crystals, was rather well made.

Once a Dog achieved results and spread his name, even if that Dog died in some unfortunate accident, the company could make it look as though its strength had not changed by having someone capable of doing the same work inherit that same Dog name.

So what you needed to inherit a Dog’s name was the skill to perform that Dog’s role.

For example, the Lapdog.

This Dog was often assigned as a guard to the wealthy. What it needed, in addition to defensive ability, was knowledge of upper-class manners and a beautiful appearance.

In the Hound’s case, the job was to find, pursue, and kill.

Those were the skills required.

In other words, sniper did not automatically equal Hound. Master was a sniper, and I was a sniper, for one very simple reason:

Master was the genius type.

He was not suited to teaching, so he could only pass his skills on to someone similar to himself. That compromise was how we ended up with two generations in a row of sniper Hounds.

Which meant I had aptitude for other Dog names too.

In the sense of pursuing enemies, Sheepdog.

In the sense of searching for enemies, Police Dog.

And, different in flavor from those first two, because I was a sniper: Bear Dog.

We do not fight bears.

The Bear Dog took its name from the dogs that barked and drove away bears when they approached vacation homes. Put simply, this Dog’s job was camping-sniper work: a sniper who committed fully to waiting. In an FPS, people might flame you for it, but in terms of base defense, there was no problem.

Apparently, that Bear Dog had recently changed generations as well. Since we were both snipers, he came over to introduce himself and suggest we get along.

Now then.

The reason I suddenly started talking about Dogs was that there was an event where all the Dogs gathered in one place.

Not a cat meeting, but a dog meeting.

A Dog Summit, so to speak.

The host was Search Dog. Naturally, we gathered at Doggy House—

except no.

We gathered at a tavern in town. A beer-garden-style tavern, the kind that seemed designed to enjoy the heat. There was, of course, a reason for that.

It was a cartel meeting.

With the Insectum moving strangely, the current anti-Insectum defensive line had become a fierce combat zone. Naturally, Doggy House wanted to send Dogs there, but Search Dog judged that the request fees will still go higher.

That was where the trouble began.

Under Search Dog’s call, we Dogs opened a cartel meeting and agreed not to take any anti-Insectum war jobs until the go-ahead was given.

The timing for lifting the ban would be when the fees had risen to a certain point, but before our employer, Doggy House, lost patience and forced work onto us.

Apparently, that moment was finally near.

“…”

That was fine.

The problem was that I had been placed at the center table, where the six or so central figures among the Dogs had been gathered.

Search Dog, Komainu, Loyal Dog, Wolfdog, Underdog—and for some reason, Hound.

Me.

It was not very comfortable. I would have preferred to move to a corner, but apparently, in terms of ability, I was treated as the representative of the younger generation, so that was not allowed.

Terrible.

Incidentally, the other young Dogs besides me were Sheepdog Shinzo, Watchdog, Monkey Dog, and Bear Dog.

Even if this was purely an evaluation of combat ability, they should properly lament the current state of affairs, where I had to be made the leader.

Well, Shinzo would probably listen properly.

Deciding that, I clicked the tongs.

On the grill, I grabbed something like a shrimp as it changed color and flipped it over.

It was huge. Or rather, thick. Apparently, it was a fake shrimp genetically modified for more edible meat and faster growth, but basically, it could be handled like shrimp.

When it had first been taken out of the tank filled with shocking pink culture fluid, it had inspired almost no appetite whatsoever. But the smell of shellfish grilling blew all of that away.

“…Hey, Hound.”

“What is it, Search Dog?”

Do you want shrimp?

Don’t worry. I’m raising enough for everyone.

“That’s not it! I’m saying I regret putting you in that seat!”

“Would you like me to switch with Shinzo?”

As I spoke, fully aware of my place as a junior, I first sent some cabbage, which cooked quickly, onto the plates of my seniors. Search Dog barked at me.

“Brother, grill me some shellfish. Shellfish.”

“I don’t mind, but I’m just doing this by feel, so it’ll be rough. Please don’t expect much from the doneness or anything.”

That aside, long time no see, I said, greeting Mr. Koma—Komainu.

“Ah… right. Brother, you were relatively closer to my side of things… Under, please.”

“Of course.”

The gentlemanly old man, Under—Mr. Underdog—smiled and took the tongs from me.

“Please participate in the discussion, young man.”

When he said it with that gentle smile, I somehow felt inclined to obey.

“…”

I turned back to Search Dog and prepared to listen.

“You younger lot! Hurry up and get stronger so one of you can replace this guy!”

Apparently, Search Dog did not like that attitude of mine either.

And so, since the host’s mood had been ruined, it took a little while to get things back on track.

Well, the topic was exactly as expected: lifting the ban on accepting anti-Insectum war jobs.

If we teased them any longer, apparently, we were likely to be forced into the war regardless. So once I finished the jobs I had on hand, I would head over too.

“…”

War was beginning.

***

Before any of that, I had to finish the jobs I already had.

If it were bounty hunting, I could do as I pleased on my own authority. But the job currently on my plate was one Potato Man had sent specifically to me.

I could not treat it that way.

“…S1 to S2. Any movement at the back door?”

Response: None. Target remains inside Point B1.

“Understood. Continue observation, please.”

It was deep into the night.

S2—Snake Unit’s team, watching the opposite side from me, answered while I looked down over a dead city.

From the mountain beside the city, near the road leading down into it, I watched through my binoculars: a single building glowing in a city sunk in night.

…They were fairly careless.

Did they understand they were involved in illegal trade?

In this era, where corporations held real power, industrial spies were treated rather harshly.

The people I had marked were a group of industrial spies using the craftsmen’s guild as their base, stealing technology from Arawn and Tatara Heavy Industries.

Naturally, the client was Arawn and Tatara Heavy Industries—except no.

It was the craftsmen’s guild.

More than that, it was apparently a company that had been profiting by using these people until now.

Not funny.

If you entrusted someone with shady work, they ended up holding your weakness.

The spies had tried to make pocket change with the weakness they held, threatening their employer while raising the price.

That was where their luck ran out.

The client had decided to express, in an easy-to-understand way, their anger at having their hand bitten.

“…Tomorrow it could be me, I suppose.”

I muttered that.

Well, to prevent that, Potato Man had stepped in between us. I did not know who the other party was, and they did not know me. Even so, the sad thing was that if you looked into the stolen technology, you could more or less guess the company from there. During the information gathering to pin down the hideout, I had gotten a vague sense of, maybe this one?

“…”

I wanted to finish the job while I could still pretend I had not noticed.

As I was thinking that, I saw a sporty car driving along a still-living road toward the city.

On that route—

“S1 to A3. A car is coming. Confirm passengers. It may be the final target.”

Response: Understood.

Rooster Unit answered.

This time, I had placed the search-capable units—Dog Unit, Rabbit Unit, and Rooster Unit—on the major roads as A1, A2, and A3, while Snake Unit, with stealth, had been sent into the city as S2.

The distance was significant, so I had assumed Rat Unit would be having a rough time securing communication precision…

or so I had thought, but this time it seemed to have some room to spare.

“…You’re subtly clever, aren’t you?”

Correction requested: Not subtly.

“Yes, yes. Correction. You are clever, Rat Unit.”

Smug: smug.

That smug face, despite its expression never changing, was convincing enough.

If communication is difficult, simply build a communication facility.

The ones capable of executing such a brute-force solution were the Monos.

With the wages I had given it, Rat Unit had purchased a blueprint on its own: a simple communication support facility. It required rare metals and pre-prepared circuit boards, so Ox Unit’s load had increased slightly, but once assembled, it performed quite well.

Rat Unit was fitted into the center of a metal box with antennas extending in four directions. The drawback was that it did not look as if it could move right away, but at my distance, that was not much of a drawback.

A good move.

Report: Target confirmed. Issue → non-target passengers confirmed.

A message from Rooster Unit.

What did that mean?

Image data was attached, so I opened it.

That was rather risky. Apparently, it had taken the shot from the front. I confirmed the target in the driver’s seat and another in the middle of the back seat.

The problem was the two women whose shoulders the target in the back seat was happily holding.

“…”

My head hurt.

Apparently, while shopping in another town, they had decided to be stylish and get some takeout too.

“…Set them to Yellow.”

Confirmation: Not Green?

Sheep Unit asked on behalf of all the Monoz.

For this operation, Red meant targets to kill. Green meant targets to protect.

And Yellow meant targets it was acceptable to kill.

Even I thought that might be a little rough.

But sorry, they were not people worth going out of my way to save. The hard part was that S2 consisted only of Snake Unit and Rudo, a small infiltration pair. There were five targets. Assuming each had contracted the average number of ten Monoz, we could temporarily end up with fifty-five against two.

That was as far as I could tolerate while raising the operation’s difficulty and increasing the risk.

“S1 to all units. We go with Plan A.

“A1 through A3, secure S2’s retreat route. Ten minutes.

“S2, prepare aerosol tear gas rounds and wide-area electromagnetic pulse. Drop them through the entrance eight minutes from now.

“Drop order is pulse, then tear gas. Rudo, don’t get caught in it.

“Ah, and Snake Unit, don’t forget to show yourself and lure them.”

A confirming electronic beep came back, followed by a low little growl that sounded almost like a bark.

“Okay. Then let’s do this the usual way. Win at all costs. Order to win. That is all.”

***

Rudo was a dog, so his growth was faster than a human’s.

His body had filled out, and now that he could be called an adult dog, he had become much more flexible in what he could do.

Standing at the entrance, Rudo raised his head and howled once, loud enough for even us, some distance away, to hear.

The long note stretched through the city.

The instant it ended, he released, all at once, the electricity he had been storing since around noon.

The discharge alone looked as if it could serve as a stun grenade. It lifted the city out of the darkness for a moment, white and violent.

Once I confirmed it had faded, I looked through the scope.

The entrance.

There was Rudo, just starting to run, and Snake Unit taking his place, showing itself to the enemy at the doorway.

We had set the escape route upwind, so the chance of the gas drifting into Rudo and harming him was low. That meant we could use tear gas without holding back.

Throw it in.

Flush them out.

Hunt them down.

Not a fox hunt.

A badger hunt.

Smoke the den and drive the prey out.

That was the plan this time.

Like Rudo, Snake Unit had been preparing tear gas rounds in its internal lab since around noon. It threw them inside. The colorless, transparent smoke could not be seen in the night, but it was certainly cornering them.

We had not had time to block the rear exit.

But would the enemy use it?

Unlikely.

Rudo’s display just before this was too strong in their minds for them to think of it. Some of them would be armed with Centipedes, and there would be Monos inside as well.

Tear gas would not work on them, and Rudo’s electromagnetic pulse would only buy about five minutes.

So for the ones who would not be shaken by smoke, Rudo howled, and Snake Unit showed itself to lure them.

“Snake Unit?”

But Snake Unit did not move.

It was supposed to retreat immediately after throwing the rounds, yet…

It should have been protected against the electromagnetic pulse, but was it caught in it anyway?

That thought came.

Recovery plans for the worst case raced through my mind.

Rudo could not retrieve it.

Turning around and fighting was rejected too, considering the tear gas.

A forced assault by Dog Unit, Tiger Unit, Monkey Unit, and Boar Unit. Add Ox Unit—no, Horse Unit, faster on its feet, for recovery.

That would be better.

I would buy time from here until they arrived.

Could I do it?

Could I?

I was uneasy.

Snake Unit being stopped near the entrance was painful. The area I could shoot into was narrow.

But I would do it.

I made that decision and cracked my neck once, and then Snake Unit started running as if nothing had happened.

What?

As if answering the question, a message appeared in my headset.

Report: Thirty Monoz, two Centipede users, three unarmored humans. Escape order: four Reds first, then one Yellow, then the final Red, followed by the Yellows.

“…I am not going to praise you.”

Response: nyoron(´・ω・`)

“…”

Not nearly enough remorse.

Still, just knowing the number of Centipedes was enough.

I would absolutely never say it out loud, but well done.

One breath.

With that, I placed the world inside my scope.

Just as Snake Unit had reported after staying behind to observe, first came the two wearing Centipedes. Then, unarmored, two targets. After one non-target came the last.

Rapid Snipe.

There was no need to go that far.

I carefully dealt with the first two, then handled the unarmored ones as they came out of the entrance.

“Rat Unit. S2 status.”

Without taking my eye from the scope, I asked Rat Unit while changing magazines. The answer danced across my headset.

Response: Rudo complete. Snake Unit fleeing.

“Of course.”

That was what happened when it waited.

If it withdrew as far as the position team A had built, we could clean things up with my support while fighting them off.

That had been the plan.

Well, I would never say this out loud, and I would scold it later, but thanks to him, we avoided unnecessary killing.

To help Snake Unit escape from the thirty Monos whose contractors had been killed—

“No pursuit?”

How very cold of them.

I felt a slight wrongness.

For Monoz, who loved humans, that behavior was strange.

I probably should have thought a little harder there.

Unfortunately, I was a rough creature, closer to Mr. Koma’s side of things.

Since the situation happened to be convenient for me, I ended the job without paying it any particular attention.