by Shouji Gatou
“I took them at bases all around Japan. It was a ton of work...” Shinji trailed off. “You like that stuff too, right, Sagara-kun?”
“Well, I wouldn’t say I like it exactly...”
“I even got a picture of a Marine M6 in Okinawa.” The M6 was an AS first deployed in the early 90s. They’d had a role in the Gulf War, so they’d been frequently shown on the news, which had brought them a measure of public affinity.
“Oh?” Sousuke asked curiously. “Did you get the A2, also?”
“Yeah. Wow, you know your stuff. It had a reactive armor shield.”
“I see. How did it move, in practice?”
“Well, the base guys said the balance wasn’t great,” Shinji told him. “It’s got that Rockwell MSO-11 operating system, you know? There’s a lot of flab in the feedback architecture, so with a bilateral angle of more than 3.5, you get swung around by the weight of your gun. And the torque balance with the tip weight is already so clunky...”
Sousuke nodded over and over as he listened to the jargon-laden rant. “I see. That follows.”
“They’re best for ambushes or suicide runs, I think. The new M9’s got much better specs. And with a Bofors 40mm rifle—”
At some point, the two of them had struck up a real conversation.
Kazama Shinji’s knowledge of military matters was stunning, even to a professional soldier like Sousuke. Perhaps because he was an objective party, he had a unique, specific perspective. Sousuke entirely forgot the theft of panties, to let his geek flag fly.
“Your knowledge is impressive,” he commented. “It’s hard to believe you’re a civilian...”
“Oh, no, I still have a lot to learn... You’re very knowledgeable as well, Sagara-kun.”
“Oh, not at all...”
But the blossoming of this sad, nerdy friendship was cut short when the balcony door rattled open.
“Oh...”
Kaname was standing there, wearing nothing but a bath towel. She must not have realized they were there, because as she saw them, she went rigid. The towel exposed her shapely cleavage and long, curvy legs. Her wet black hair clung to her porcelain shoulders.
“What... are you doing?” Kaname asked at length, hand tightening on the towel’s closure.
“Ah...” It was then that Sousuke realized he’d been keeping his hands busy by playing with a pair of her panties. Nevertheless, he was able to say, with a completely straight face, “Chidori. What a coincidence.”
Kaname stormed back to her room to fetch her metal bat.
“That’s quite a mark,” Kurz said as he laid a wet compress on his friend’s arm.
“She really went after me. I tried to help Kazama escape, but he fell into the brush below.”
“From the fourth floor?”
“Yes,” Sousuke confirmed. “He hit a cherry tree first, and then the ground.”
“Were you trying to kill him?”
“I was in danger, too,” Sousuke protested. “I just barely managed to escape. But I wonder what the major would say if I was killed by my protectee?”
“Hmm... I think I can imagine,” Kurz commented.
He would sigh, then fill out documentation regarding the articles of the deceased, then move on to his next duty. Major Andrey Kalinin was not a man to be surprised by death—no matter where, how, or to whom it happened.
“I think she really hates me this time.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet.”
A little while later, they got a call from Mao in the M9. “Hey, guys. I was just in contact with the de Danaan.”
“Do we have new orders?”
“Yeah. It looks like our mission is over. The enemy has no further reason to kidnap Kaname.”
“What does that mean?”
“Apparently they blew up the base of the people who were after her... all the data and everything,” Mao explained. “So, we can rest easy for now.”
Sousuke had never quite known all the details of the matter, but it sounded like the problem had been cut off at the root. “Will we return to the submarine, then?”
“Actually, we get a week off. We’ll get our next mission after that.”
“You mean it? Yippee!” Kurz joyfully threw his hands into the air.
Sousuke’s reaction was more conflicted. “I was supposed to go on a field trip in two days. It’s a four night affair.”
“And you’ve been told to ‘Have fun,’” Mao shared with him.
“The major said that?” Sousuke asked.
“Yeah. They already paid your travel expenses, so go and get your money’s worth. Apparently that’s an order.”
“But...”
“Go on, Sousuke,” Kurz coaxed him. “We know Kaname’s out of the woods, so why not go and relax a little? Enjoy life as a normal high school student.”
Sousuke meditated on Kurz’s words. “Very well,” he decided. “It could be a valuable experience.”
28 April, 0815 Hours (Japan Standard Time)
Passenger Waiting Area, Haneda Airport, Tokyo
“Have fun,” they had said. But starting the next day, Sousuke was having anything but. He’d been freed from the constraints of his mission, and he didn’t know what to do with that freedom.
Kaname did indeed seem to hate him—Even if they made eye contact, she’d just turn away and storm out with Kyoko or her other friends. She wouldn’t even acknowledge his presence
“I guess it makes sense,” Kazama Shinji lamented, as they sat together on an airport bench. “She caught you on her veranda, chatting and messing with her panties. Who wouldn’t be mad?”
Ever since that night, Shinji never missed a chance to strike up a conversation with Sousuke. It could be an obligation to his ‘partner in crime,’ or simply an affinity for his fellow geek.
The second year students of Jindai High School were in the airport’s waiting area, getting ready to board their plane to Okinawa. Class two had already boarded, and the students from class three were passing noisily through the gate now. Sousuke and Kaname were in class four.
“C’mon, Sagara-kun,” Shinji told him. “Cheer up already.”
“Sure,” Sousuke agreed. He wished he could go back to the Tuatha de Danaan. He’d have plenty of distractions there, with preparations for his next mission. Why in the world had he agreed to go on a field trip?
“Okay, class four! It’s time, so have your boarding passes ready!” Ms. Kagurazaka, their homeroom teacher, shouted out.
“You heard her, Sagara-kun,” Shinji announced cheerfully. “Time to board.”
“Right,” Sousuke agreed, gazing at the jumbo jet’s fuselage through the windows in the hall.
The stewardess breathed a sigh of relief once all the students were settled on the plane. The flight to Okinawa would be carrying the students of Jindai High School, alongside about 80 unrelated passengers. The regular passengers were sure to complain about the rowdy students; the separation of the seating was a placebo solution. Just thinking about the hours that lay ahead brought her an early morning headache.
“Excuse me.” A question by a boarding passenger snapped the stewardess back to attention. The man held out his boarding pass. “Could you help me find my seat?”
“Of course, sir,” she said after a pause. “Let me show you.” With the will of a professional, she forced her expression into a gentle smile.
“It must be tough,” he remarked, “having so many teenagers on board.”
“Oh, not at all.”
“I couldn’t stand it, myself. I’d end up dumping them all at 8,000 meters.”
“What?”
“You know, I’d kill them. It would make things a lot quieter,” he suggested, “and then I could enjoy a peaceful journey through the skies. Right?”
“Sir...”
“Just kidding. Ah, there I am...” The passenger laughed and headed for his seat.
What an unsettling laugh, the stewardess thought.
28 April, 0958 Hours (Japan Stand
ard Time)
JAL Flight 903, Tokyo Airspace
The jumbo jet left Haneda and smoothly finished its ascent.
This was Kyoko’s first time on a plane, so she’d spent the whole time with her face pressed to the window, eyes shining. The sky was clear, allowing a full view of Tokyo stretching out beneath them. “Wow! Hey, hey, is that the Rainbow Bridge? It’s so cool!” she crowed.
“Sure,” Kaname agreed absently.
“Kana-chan, are you listening?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Look,” Kyoko pointed, “the Statue of Liberty!”
“Wow.”
“The Eiffel Tower!”
“Sure is.” Kaname, too, was in no mood for fun.
Kyoko poked at her. “Hey, what’s with you?” she asked. “You were acting weird yesterday, too. Did something happen?”
“Umm... Not really.” Kaname was mad at herself, more than anything. She’d shown Sagara Sousuke a tiny bit of interest at the train station last week, and that was her reward? He really was a freak, and a geek, and a pervert-stalker-creep. I was so stupid to trust him, she thought, and it couldn’t help but depress her.
“Is this about Sagara-kun?” Kyoko asked, cutting right to the quick.
“Wh-Where did that come from?” Kaname asked shakily. “O-Of course not. Ahahahaha.”
That was the ‘conversation over’ signal, but Kyoko persevered. “I knew it,” she said. “On Sunday, you were all ‘maybe he’s not such a bad guy after all,’ and then on Monday you had him on full cold shoulder mode. What did he do to you?”
“Nothing...”
“Hey, Kana-chan. If... If it’s you-know-what... you can tell me, okay?”
“Huh?”
Kyoko took Kaname’s hand. “You should really go to the hospital, too. I’ll go with you.”
“Hey...”
“Then after that, you gotta make him pay for it. There are lots of lawyers who specialize in this stuff,” Kyoko advised her. “You’ll be fine since you’re a girl.”
“What are you talking about?!” Kaname cried.
Just then, the plane bucked; it rocked first to the left, then to the right. Kyoko let out a shriek.
“It’s okay. This stuff is pretty normal,” Kaname said casually. Indeed, the rocking had already stopped. “It is a little weird, though, with the weather this nice...”
The students in the seats at the front were whispering about something. Finding it odd, Kaname tapped the shoulder of a friend in the row ahead of her. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not really sure,” her friend told her. “Someone said they heard a pop before the shaking started...”
“A pop?”
Just then, there was a cabin announcement: it was a man’s voice, and it sounded like the captain. “Attention, passengers. We had a little turbulence from an approaching low pressure area. There may be a little more shaking as we change course, but there’s no need to worry.” That was all.
“That’s strange,” Kaname whispered.
Kyoko looked concerned. “Why?”
“I think they usually say, ‘We appreciate your patience,’ not, ‘No need to worry.’”
Indeed, Kaname was correct.
3: Bad Trip
28 April, 1000 Hours (Japan Standard Time)
JAL Flight 903, Tokyo Airspace
The captain set down the cabin mic and looked behind him.
A man was standing before the cockpit door, holding a gun with a laser sight and smiling brightly. “Well done,” he said. “We don’t want the passengers worrying, after all.” The suit-clad man tossed his glasses aside. His face was haggard-looking and covered in stubble. He had black hair and bangs that covered his forehead, behind which a large scar could be seen.
“Are you crazy?!” the pilot asked. “Using explosives on a plane in flight?”
“It was only a little blasting powder. Just enough to blow the lock off the cockpit door.”
“You could have killed yourself, too.”
“Killed myself? Hmm, I suppose you’re right...” The suit-clad man let out a chilling laugh. Then, noticing the way the pilot’s eyes were running over the instruments, he said, “Plotting a new course?”
It was as if he had read his mind. “The blast might have fouled up the electronics,” the pilot answered. “We’ll need to make an emergency landing.”
“Ohh. You think something’s broken?” The terrorist gazed with interest at the pilot’s console, eyes narrowed.
“Yes. I’ll pass on your demands, just let me take us back to Haneda.”
“Is this what’s broken?” The man pointed the laser sight at the captain’s head and unceremoniously pulled the trigger. There was a crunch of shattered flesh and bone, and the pilot died instantly.
“Hmm, yes, it does seem broken.” The man let out a cackle, then made a sound like an emergency alarm.
“What have you done?!” the copilot cried, covered in his companion’s blood.
The man flicked the red laser to the copilot next. Laser sights weren’t much use in real combat, but perhaps he enjoyed the way it inspired fear in his targets. “Are you broken, too?”
“D-Don’t do it. You won’t have anyone to fly the plane!”
“You think? But I’ve always wanted to fly a plane like this. Is it fun? What do you think? Give me your expert’s opinion.” Grinning, he leaned in close enough that the copilot could feel his breath.
“D-Don’t kill me...”
“I asked you if it’s fun, stupid...” But just before he pulled the trigger—
“Gauron!” A new voice prevented him. Another man entered the cockpit. He was enormous—close to two meters tall. He wore a suit and glasses, and looked just like a businessman on a work trip.
“Oh... Is that you, Koh?”
“What are you doing? Why did you kill the pilot?!”
“He lied to me. The little fool was mocking me.” He made a show of poking at the corpse.
The large man, apparently named Koh, snatched Gauron’s gun away and said, “And who did you expect to fly the plane?”
“I’ll do it. I’ve flown transport craft before, after all.”
“A passenger jet isn’t like a military plane,” Koh told him. “And if you really had to kill someone, you should have used a knife!”
“A knife?” Gauron protested. “How barbaric; I’d never touch the vicious things.”
Koh grabbed the contemptuously grinning Gauron by the lapels and hoisted him upward. “If you enjoy killing people, that’s your business. But don’t forget, it’s my home country that’s giving you people this chance. Stop adding new risks to the plan.”
“Don’t be like that. If they’d do as I told them, I’d be perfectly civilized. Right?” Gauron tapped the shoulder of the copilot, who was frozen in terror. “Hey, Mr. Copilot. What’s your name?”
“M-Mori...”
“Mr. Mori. Did you hear all that, then? Out of respect for my comrade, I’m going to try not to kill you. If you do defy me, I’ll just kill someone else. How does that sound?”
“Please don’t kill anyone!” the copilot begged.
“Perfect. Then you’ll do exactly as I say, won’t you?”
“Yes. I’ll do it.”
“I didn’t tell the corpse there, but I have more of my men mixed in with the passengers... And they all carry dangerous weapons,” Gauron informed him. “So just keep that in mind.”
“How did they get the weapons—”
“We enlisted someone in the cabin cleaning agency. Wasn’t that smart of us?”
“Y-You paid him off?”
“No, we just got a little close to his family. He got them all into very hot water... Or should I say, very cold water.” Gauron laughed at his own joke. He’d kidnapped and threatened the cleaner’s family. Then when the job was done, he’d killed them all mercilessly, without a second thought.
“That’s terrible,” the copilot said. “Why would you—”
; “Because it was logical. Anyway... here. Fly along this route, would you?” Gauron took a flight map from Koh and showed it to the copilot.
The blood drained from the copilot’s face. “North from... MIMOD? Final destination... Sunan? That’s North Korea!”
“Yes, a country famous for its poverty. I’m sure you’re aware of it.”
“They’ll shoot us down,” the copilot wheezed.
“No, they won’t. They know we’re coming. If you follow my instructions to the letter, they’ll even send an escort. And they do use ILS, though it’s not the most accurate, given the state of the country... Now, listen. Once we pass this point, you’ll identify yourself as...” Gauron laid out his detailed instructions.
It took time for the various authorities to understand the scope of the problem: a passenger plane entering Naha’s FIR had suddenly turned north and flown into the FIR of Daegu, South Korea. At first, the Civil Aviation Bureau of MLIT was in chaos. Flight 903 wasn’t responding to communications, and the bureau broke out in long arguments over whether it was a hijacking or a malfunction.
While MLIT argued, the South Korean Air Force scrambled its fighters. They received a terse communication from Flight 903 telling them simply “it’s a hijack,” but that message, too, had to traverse a complicated series of channels. MLIT only received the message 20 minutes later, at which point, leadership for the issue was passed to the Cabinet Office for National Security Affairs.
While all that was going on, Flight 903 entered North Korean airspace. The ROK Air Force were forced to give up pursuit and return to base. Mysteriously, the North Korean army did not intercept them.
The Metropolitan Police Department had numerous anti-terrorism units, known as SATs. But with the plane in foreign soil—worse yet, in North Korea—they were helpless.
The Prime Minister first learned of the incident when questioned by an NHK reporter at a campaign stop. He responded, “I’ll wait for more information to comment,” and foolishly went back on the trail—The media and the opposition were happy for the new scandal. No one took responsibility for the crime.
The USFK AWACS eventually announced that Flight 903 had set down at Sunan Airfield, 20 kilometers north of Pyongyang, but the hostages themselves didn’t know that at the time.
