by Shouji Gatou
28 April, 1155 Hours (Japan Standard Time)
Sunan Airfield (Pyongyang International Airport), Democratic People’s Republic of Korea
Something wasn’t right here; most of the passengers had picked up on that by now. They should be getting close to Okinawa, but the scenery down below was all mountains.
They tried asking the stewardesses, but that got them nowhere. All they offered was, “Don’t worry” and, “We’ll be landing soon” and, “It’s because of the weather.”
Eventually, the plane started landing procedures. An urban region was visible to the right of the runway. It looked deserted and dingy, though; there were lines of old factories, pouring black smoke into the sky. It seemed like a city rife with pollution sickness. It was like they’d traveled forty years into Japan’s past.
“I knew something wasn’t right,” Kazama Shinji said, looking out the window. “This isn’t Okinawa. It’s not even Japan.”
“I believe you’re right,” Sousuke responded.
The two of them had been the first ones to realize something was wrong. When they were still over the ocean, they’d caught sight of an ROK Air Force F-16 out the window. What would a South Korean fighter be doing over the Pacific, en route to Okinawa?
Soon, the jumbo jet landed. A few dozen meters away stood rows of warehouses, in front of which old-fashioned military aircraft could be seen—silver-bodied tubes, like carp streamers with wings.
“Sagara-kun,” Shinji observed, “those are MiG-21s... no wait, J-7s.” There were tanks, too—two of them with strangely old-fashioned makes. “Look at that!” he cried. “Are those T-34s? Those hunks of junk from 50 years ago?” Then, at the same time, there were arm slaves. They could see at least three from where they were sitting. “And then all of a sudden, cutting-edge Rk-92s. Talk about a tech gap...”
The long-limbed Soviet ASes with khaki-colored armor carried a brand of AS rifles that were common in the East. Western armies codenamed them “Savage,” and they were often seen in countries supplied by the USSR. Sousuke knew those ASes very well too. He’d piloted them—and he’d fought them.
Seeing the weapons scattered across the runway, Sousuke now knew for sure: they were in a North Korean airfield.
What’s going on here? he wondered. Mao had said that Kaname was in the clear, yet their plane had been hijacked. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Some unknown enemy had chosen this method of kidnapping her. It was flawless—With several hundred hostages to worry about, even Mithril would be hard-pressed to intervene.
To make matters worse, they’d landed in North Korea. The interests of Japan, the ROK, the USA, the USSR, and China all tangled together in such a complicated way that any rescue operation would wind up bogged down in red tape. To use that old-fashioned terrorist method, hijacking, in such a perfect way—
“It’s brilliant,” Sousuke muttered.
“Huh?” Shinji asked.
“Nothing,” Sousuke responded shortly. There was nothing he could do. He didn’t have a gun at the moment—and even if he did, it wouldn’t help him much.
Around the time that the passengers began stirring uneasily, there came another cabin announcement: “Attention, passengers. Thank you for flying with us today.” It was a man’s voice again, but it was different from the one who had spoken to them after takeoff. “I’ll be taking over for the captain of this plane. Now, as many of you will have already realized, we are not at Naha Airport. We’ve been forced to land at Sunan Airfield in the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea.”
“What did you say?!” their homeroom teacher Kagurazaka shouted out loud.
“Catch on a little earlier, ma’am...” Shinji clutched his head.
“As you may know, the armed forces of the imperialist United States and their puppet state, the ROK, will be holding joint maneuvers next week. Their twisted intent is, as ever, to intimidate the glorious People’s Army. In order to crush the American Empire’s ambitions, I’ve brought this little show of solidarity to my comrades in the People’s Army... et cetera, et cetera, even I’m embarrassed by that spiel. The point is that you’re hostages; please look out the window.”
They looked and saw the plane surrounded by armored cars, arm slaves, and uniformed soldiers.
“You’re welcome guests here, but you must do as you’re told. If you try to escape or show any signs of resistance, we will shoot you all without hesitation.”
Another stir ran through the cabin.
“In addition,” the man resumed, “there are no appropriate facilities in this airport to hold you. Please wait inside the plane until your release can be arranged. We appreciate your patience.”
28 April, 0405 Hours (Greenwich Mean Time)
Central Control Room, Tuatha de Danaan, Periscope Depth, Tsushima Strait
Dizzying arrays of data swirled on the control room’s central screen. As militaries across the globe began to mobilize, there was a swift increase in communications available to tap; words in red, green, and yellow danced and overlapped in complex patterns.
“They completely outwitted us. I should never have put my faith in the intelligence department.” Tessa—Teletha Testarossa—said to Kalinin. Her eyes darted back and forth among the dozens of map layouts, which were visible on her personal screen. “It’s as if we’re always one step behind,” she lamented. “It’s shameful.”
“It’s like whack-a-mole, what we do. There’s no way to guard against all possibilities,” Kalinin answered. Perhaps he had known this was a possibility. Perhaps that’s why he’d sent Sousuke on the trip... but even he was caught off guard, it seemed, by the audacity of the method they’d employed. “And it doesn’t seem as if the KGB are behind this.”
“North Korea, then?” she mused. “Unlikely...”
“Indeed. Both have been exploited by another entity.”
They thought they had destroyed all of the KGB’s research data, yet someone must have smuggled it out. That someone must have powerful connections in the North Korean military, as well as a facility for Chidori Kaname—for the Whispered.
“Any speculation on who this ‘Mister X’ and his friends might be?” Tessa asked.
“None at all,” Kalinin told her. “At least, not yet.”
“The North Korean government is denying responsibility,” Tessa said, after some thought. “They claim the hijackers just showed up at their door. But they also won’t agree to return the hostages—They want concessions on the upcoming US-Korea joint exercises.” All the while she was speaking, she was flipping through diplomatic papers that had arrived, by way of Sweden, on her screen. To read at a pace close to speedreading, while speaking so smoothly on a completely different topic—it was the act of an extraordinary mind. “Now, Major. How long do you think it will take for the hostages to be safely returned?”
“Chidori excepted, I assume?”
Tessa nodded immediately. “That’s right. If we interfere too soon, we might complicate the return of the 400 others.”
Kalinin thought. “I doubt the North Korean government is eager to escalate tensions. They had a bumper crop last year, they are bringing their palladium reactors online, and their failing economy is beginning an upturn. The needless deaths of hundreds of Japanese citizens would not be to their benefit.”
“Exactly. We should follow their lead for now,” Tessa said. “Once the hostages are freed via standard diplomacy, we can locate and rescue Chidori.” She knew full well, though, what kind of treatment Chidori would face in the meantime—assuming their rescue was even successful.
Kalinin caught the glimpse of self-loathing that crossed the girl’s face in that moment, but he pretended that he hadn’t. “Entirely logical. However—”
“For now, we’ll wait, watch, and see,” Tessa declared, interrupting him.
“Very well,” he agreed. “We do still have time. How shall we prepare in the meantime?”
“Let’s have transports on standby at Merida Island Base—Three C-1
7s,” she decided. “And within the next two hours, get a KC-10 refuel tanker in the air. I’ll send it its flight plan later.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the officer in charge of communications replied, and went to work, forwarding her orders.
“Major, order Mao and Weber back here,” Tessa continued. “Get six M9s and three FAV-8s warmed up by 0700. And... prepare the Arbalest for usage.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“We can kick ourselves another day,” she said. “We are fully prepared for situations like these.”
Kalinin nodded. “And the enemy has already ingested poison.”
Poison—Yes, he really was like poison, in a situation like this...
“That’s true. Let’s wait until we hear from him first.”
Tessa decided to keep her vessel at periscope depth.
28 April, 1718 Hours (Japan/North Korea Standard Time)
JAL Flight 903, Sunan Airfield, People’s Democratic Republic of Korea
Inside the plane, you would hardly know there was a hijack in progress.
About a quarter of the passengers sat nervously in their seats, as one might expect. But the rest—the students of Jindai High School—had been driven by boredom to begin acting out. Some were playing cards, hanafuda, and mahjong, while some had board games, like Life and Monopoly, spread out here and there among the seats. Some sang on portable karaoke machines, some kicked off the classic field trip “late night chats” early, some ran Mini 4WDs down the aisles. The stewardesses were at their wits’ end—they could scold them all they liked, but the play resumed the moment they looked away. Even the teachers had given up on trying to restrain them.
“Hey, Kana-chan. Are you getting hungry?” Kyoko asked.
They were playing old maid. Kaname responded while plucking a card from another friend’s hand. “Huh? Yeah, I guess... I wonder how we can get food.”
“You think there’s convenience stores around? Maybe we can pay someone to buy us some stuff...”
“Yeah, for real! Though, if they do have convenience stores, I bet they’re crap... Instead of ‘Seven Eleven,’ I bet they have ‘Seven Il-Sung,’ right?” she snickered.
“I don’t get it.”
“You don’t? Sheesh, kids these days! By the way...” Kaname glanced over her shoulder. Sagara Sousuke was sitting nearby, gazing out the window with an air of nonchalance. Even at a time like this? What the heck is he thinking about? With a feeling of vague disgust, she plucked a card from Kyoko’s hand. It was the Joker. “Oh, dammit!”
“Yes!” her friend cackled. “Sucks to be you!”
Suddenly, a hush fell over the plane. To be more precise, it fell across each row of students in turn, like a shockwave that emanated from the entrance.
Three men, armed with submachine guns, had entered the cabin. They were led by a man who was unarmed, but smiling brightly. This man wore an expensive suit—probably Italian—and adjusted his lapels before spreading his arms magnanimously. “Now, we didn’t come to stop the fun. Continue.”
But except for a few, who were just that brazen, the kids didn’t feel much like going back to their games now. The leader whispered something to one of his men, then pointed in Kaname’s direction.
“What’s all this about?” Kyoko looked nervous. The other students had started whispering among themselves, as well.
The man in the suit took a few steps in their direction, then stopped. “You there,” he said evenly. He was close enough now that she could pin him as the man who had made the cabin announcement earlier. But who was the ‘You there’ he was referring to? “Didn’t you hear me?” he said. “You, the pretty one, with the long hair.”
Kaname just stared dumbly.
“I’m talking to you.” The man walked even closer and loomed over Kaname. He had a vertical scar on his forehead, and there was something doll-like about his gaze. It gave her the creeps.
“What do you want?” she asked him at last.
“We want to make a video for the press,” he told her, “and we need someone to star in it.”
“Oh, yeah?” she said. “Good luck with that.”
“We want you to be that star,” he insisted. “We think you’d be perfect.”
Kaname waved them off. “Oh, no way. Well, um... you can probably tell, I’m not exactly nation’s sweetheart material. I’ll turn the viewers off, for sure.”
“No need to be modest. Come on, now.”
“Um, hey, I...” The man’s subordinates flanked Kaname and began to drag her away. “I just really think it’s a bad idea, I’m... Hey, let me go! I said no! Why do you want me?!”
“Kaname-chan!” Kyoko’s voice was close to a scream.
Kagurazaka Eri ran up and confronted the man. “Excuse me! Where are you taking my student?”
“She’s going to help us out a bit, that’s all,” the man said. “I’ll return her right away.”
“No! Absolutely not!” the teacher protested. “If you’re going to take someone, take me!”
“You’re not what we’re looking for. The press—”
“That won’t work with me, you coward!” The man’s face twisted into a sneer, but Eri ignored him and persisted. “You people are monsters! First you hijack our plane, now you’re using our children? I don’t give a damn about what you want! There’s no justification on God’s earth for—”
“Goodness...” The man shot his subordinates a conspiratorial smile. Then, as Kaname watched, he pulled a gun from his suit. It was an automatic pistol with a laser sight, which he pointed straight at Eri’s head. “You are annoying.”
Eri’s eyes widened. “What are you—” A point of red light fixed itself on her forehead. The terrorist’s finger tensed on the trigger—
A bang echoed through the cabin, and Kaname trembled. Then she realized: the sound wasn’t a gunshot; it was a clang. Everyone turned to look at the source.
A boy was casually picking up a cup he had dropped in the aisle. “Sorry,” he muttered as he noticed the attention. The boy—Sagara Sousuke—then slouched back to his aisle seat as if nothing had happened.
The man fixed his eyes on Sousuke. His gaze was careful, penetrating. Sousuke remained silent, eyes focused on the cup in his hands.
The students looked back and forth between the two.
At last, the man let out a sniff and returned the gun to his coat. It was as if, robbed of his thunder, he had lost all interest in the execution. “Let’s go,” he said shortly. “We have no further business with these people.”
The terrorist headed for the exit with his subordinates and Kaname in tow. Kagurazaka Eri stayed behind, standing limply in place. When the realization hit her of how close she’d come to dying, she fainted away dead on the spot.
While the other students called for a doctor, Sousuke strode through the cabin indifferently. It was only when he made it to the unoccupied galley that he let himself breathe. He leaned over the sink and let out a groan. Just how stupid am I? Even he knew it was madness to intentionally draw your enemy’s attention. But he also knew it had been the only way to save Eri.
In that split second just before he’d acted, there were two choices battling it out in his mind: the first had been, “Let her go; she’s not part of your mission.” The second had been, “Save her; there’s no reason to, but save her.” He had ended up choosing the latter—He still didn’t know why.
After he’d dropped the cup, then, the enemy had spent a few seconds staring at him. Those seconds had been an eternity. Don’t project any malice, he’d thought. Act oblivious and calm, yet slightly anxious... Even for Sousuke, a paragon of willpower and self-control, those few seconds of performance had been exhausting.
That was close; incredibly close. It’s a miracle he didn’t recognize me... Sousuke spent about a minute lost in thought, then took in a deep breath and straightened up. I can’t stand around here forever, he told himself. Chidori Kaname has been taken. I need to act.
There was no one moni
toring the cabin itself; as long as they didn’t leave, the hostages were free to do as they pleased. The plane was out of fuel, so it couldn’t take off. The terrorists had likely destroyed the long-distance radio equipment, so they couldn’t contact the outside. It was a perfect prison. And yet, Sousuke needed to escape it.
First, he’d get his things from the cargo hold. Then he’d do some recon and contact his allies. After that, he’d have to find Kaname.
Once he’d confirmed that no one was watching, he crawled into the galley’s elevator and took it down to the cargo hold. The hold was pitch black, lined neatly with containers—a few dozen of them, each as tall as a person. Sousuke pulled a penlight from his pocket and began to go through them, one after the other, searching through the luggage inside. In the thirteenth one, he finally found his bag. He didn’t need the clothes or the toiletries. He needed...
There we are...
A satellite communicator with a powerful encryption function; a 200,000-volt stun gun, powerful enough to knock out most men in one hit; a medical kit and a survival tin, which he jammed into his pockets. It was too bad he hadn’t packed a gun or a knife.
He’d gotten it all in order and was about to close the container when a loud whirring sound filled the hold. The cargo doors were opening! Hurriedly, Sousuke closed the container. He tried to sneak away, but had to settle for jumping behind a pile of bulk bags.
With the cargo doors now open, a group of men filed in. Sousuke wasn’t sure if he was fully hidden or not, but he couldn’t afford to move now. All he could do was lie behind the bags and hold his breath.
The men were heading right for him. Their footsteps sounded purposeful; firearms clinked against the metal in their belts. He counted one, two... three of them. They moved as if they’d had combat training. If they found him, he’d have to fight. But unarmed? And without knowing how many more were outside?
A jeep had brought Kaname to another part of the airfield. It looked like an apron, but instead of parked planes, it was home—at the moment—to two large trailers and a truck. The truck was emitting a noisy hum; maybe it was serving as a generator. The area was illuminated by blinding mercury-vapor lamps, while three or four men in suits with machine guns seemed to be standing guard over the trailers. The trailers themselves looked like OB vans, but she couldn’t find any sign of an antenna.
