Muv-Luv TDA-00 “Epilogue” : Daryl A. McManus Short Story Translation

Muv-Luv TDA-00 "Epilogue" : Daryl A. McManus Short Story Translation

This work is a reprint of the “bonus book” published in the winter of 2010 as a photocopy, over 10 years ago, and a part of Muv-Luv Alternative stories done by the original author of TDA: Wei Luxin.

A “possible epilogue” for Episode 0 of Muv-Luv Unlimited the Day After (TDA). Please note that it is assumed that you have played the main story.

I hope you will enjoy the last life of Lt. Daryl McManus, commander of the 318th TSF Squadron “Black Knives” of the United States Marine Corps.

The original story script can be found on the author’s pixiv account: here.

Muv-Luv TDA-00 “Epilogue” : Daryl A. McManus


One possibility – “Daryl A. McManus”.

2004.06.01 12:04

“Good grief. Never keep a woman waiting.”

There was a side shock.

She was so distracted by the enemy below that she failed to notice the first blow of the grappler class that had finally reached the deck.

“Tsk…”

The spinal cord of the battle-hardened surface pilot stomped the foot pedal faster than thought. The control system of the F-18E (Super Hornet), which has already lost its rocket propellant, chose to leap back, and her beloved TSF kicked off the flight deck a moment after the direct hit.

“Ugh…!”

The impact and the leap occurred simultaneously, and the 18-meter giant danced through the air with ease. The TSF, which had avoided a fatal wound, bent backward and was blown over the deck in inverted flight.

— It was only a few seconds.

The endless blue sky filled her surround monitor.

The next moment, with the screaming of titanium and composite carbon echoing from the back, everything was closed to darkness.

The main engine noise stopped and a brief silence took over her ears.

— The distance was a little over 100 meters.

That was the remainder of the life given to this TSF surface pilot.

(Rebooting… Tsk, it’s not working.)

After coming back to her senses for a second, she immediately tapped the console and tried to restart the TSF, but almost at the same time, she realized the futility of doing so.

“Hmph — Oh dear, That’s it, isn’t it.?”

In the darkness of the control unit, she muttered aloud. The edges of her mouth twisted in a dare. It was as if she was convincing herself of a reality she didn’t want to acknowledge by having her own shrill voice reach her ears.

(There’s no way we’re getting out of here. — That’s right, that’s it.)

— She was scared. As a matter of fact, she was so scared she was almost going to piss herself. She could cry, scream, and spray lead bullets all over the place with her escape fortified suit.

However, the pride of hers – Darryl A. McManus – did not allow her to be distraught until the last moment.

She felt around for the kit under the seat, and removed the latch with trembling hands.

The touch of the soft cylinder and the small metal box that fit in one hand in the darkness that her eyes were still adjusting to brought her a strange sense of relief.

(Oh, there it is. I can finally take you out.)

She had made up her mind. Since that moment when she had foreseen that this fate would come one day, she had decided that if she was fortunate enough to be given the time to face her death, she would face it with him.

The earth rumbled closer. The familiar hooves of the devils pounded the deck.

She bit off one end of the cylinder. With a trembling hand, she lit a fire from a small metal box. The cockpit was briefly illuminated, and then only a small red dot of light floated quietly in the darkness.

— This is the last one I took from the United States.

The heavy smoke of the cigar stung her mouth, which was dry from the long battle, but her body, unaffected, squeezed out the last of the saliva and let her taste the aromatic scent. Her hardened heart loosened slightly.

Something hit the plane. The first hoof hanged on the armor.

(Well, we have paid our dues, haven’t we? I’m sure Captain Skipper will forgive us if we are relieved of our duties at this point.)

She looked up to the purple smoked sky. There was nothing to see but the ceiling of the dark unit. But in the black haze, her memories cast a dim shadow.

(Willboy… you’ve done well.)

The face of the subordinate who stayed with her until the end. As things are now, she doesn’t even know which one of them will be the first to go, but that’s okay, she laughed, and accepted both of their deaths as per the rules.

(Lilia… she was a hard-nosed girl, but she wasn’t bad.)

The face of an impromptu subordinate who had given her hope. They had only known each other for a week, but she was already convinced that if she survived this, she would be able to pave her own way.

(Graham… In the end, it seems that this ship is my coffin, too)

Graham Rosenberg, disappeared in the great ocean collapse. The face that was to one day be her man. She intended to make every effort to bring this guy’s name back home alive.

(Same coffin, same gravestone. Ha, you’re making me laugh.)

The ironic reality of the situation was, nevertheless, extremely gratifying to her at the moment. The pride of the United States, the Big Kennedy, is not a bad tombstone. That thought still loomed in her mind.

The coffin shook vigorously. Something struck the front of the body violently.

She slowly exhaled the purple smoke again, oblivious to the roars that surrounded her. The same white haze disappears into the darkness, and her thoughts also disappeared with it in a thousand pieces.

(Graham… I fulfilled my promise to you to the end. Until the last moment, I was still immature (a chick), but I kept pushing forward as Daryl A. McManus.)

The shock jolted her brain as well. Ashes crumbled from the cigar in her hand, spilling and scattering in her lap.

(So… this is okay, right?)

The steel shell was dented, distorted, and pried open.

The moment her eyes were pierced by the dazzling light, she forced a satisfied smile and raised her voice as if she has been tired of waiting.

“Good grief. Never keep a woman waiting.”

Shock. Her thoughts were interrupted there.

Fin

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