Trembling Into the Blue

by Shouji Gatou

  Doctor Goldberry handed her something. “Keep this on you, if you would.” It was a plastic stick the size of a piece of chewing gum.

  “What is this?” Kaname asked.

  “It’s a bit like litmus paper; it changes colors in the presence of high concentrations of neutrons.”

  “N-Neutrons?”

  “If it turns orange, that’s a danger sign,” Doctor Goldberry explained. “You’ll want to get away from the engine room as quickly as possible.”

  “And make sure to give it back to me before you disembark,” Tessa came in to explain. “My submarine runs on a P/S-type Palladium Reactor. That device is a safety measure in the event of a disaster, but you shouldn’t need to worry about it.”

  Kaname just tilted her head in confusion.

  “Now, come with me. We wouldn’t want to get separated,” Tessa said, and then left the sick bay.

  The halls of the Tuatha de Danaan were just wide enough to accommodate Kaname and Tessa walking side by side, and the ceiling was very low; they were far more cramped than the corridors at school. Kaname’s first thought about these halls when she’d initially come on board were that they were surprisingly chaotic: the walls and ceiling were crammed with thick pipes and cables; valves, levers, switches and fire hoses... The sturdy, watertight doors they passed at regular intervals were fixed with enormous handles. In other words, it was just like any submarine. This was a bit of a letdown for Kaname, who had been led by the boat’s outer appearance to expect the flat walls and ceilings of a space battleship from a sci-fi anime.

  “You think it’s stuffy in here, don’t you?” Tessa said to Kaname, turning back even as she walked. “The corridors are quite wide as submarines go, though. We did it to ensure the safety of the crew when they need to run during an emergency. It means that foolish people are inclined to trip and fall—eek!” She really should have watched where she was going. Tessa banged her shoulder against a protruding pipe; the force caused her to spin before she fell, back-first, onto the floor.

  “Hey, you okay?” Kaname asked, with concern.

  “I’m... I’m fine. It’s nothing, really...” Tessa said with tears in her eyes, as Kaname helped her up.

  “That was a close call... Are you sure you’re the captain of this thing?”

  “It hurts to hear you say that, but this boat... it’s like my home,” Tessa explained. “There’s nothing I don’t know about it, outside of things related to my crew’s personal lives. For instance, that pipe I just hit was a number 28 B8 service pipe. During the design phase, I was forced to leave it protruding from the wall, to accommodate the placement of other modules,” she said, deftly switching the subject at hand as she resumed leading her down the hall. They passed through several doors and then descended a staircase.

  Kaname’s second main impression of the Tuatha de Danaan was that it was quiet. She was pretty sure that the boat was moving, but there was no sound of machinery, and the floor wasn’t vibrating, either. It was as quiet as a shinkansen car.

  “I made it to be that way,” Tessa responded when Kaname asked about it. “Stealth is vital for a submarine, so noise is our greatest enemy. A loud ship can be easily detected, even at distances where it couldn’t be made out with the naked eye, and modern-day warfare frequently begins at such distances. Of course... the spread of ECS means that is becoming less and less true in ground and aerial combat.”

  “Ah-hah...” Kaname only understood about half of that, but she decided to nod along anyway. What she couldn’t understand was why she had seen so few of the submarine’s crew so far; the corridors were silent, and there was almost no sign of human life. She’d once caught sight of a scowling young crewman, but he disappeared down the hallway without so much as a nod, as if he was avoiding her.

  I don’t think they like having me here, Kaname thought uneasily. She had reason to be here, but she was still just a civilian. It was understandable that they wouldn’t be happy to see an outsider like her on their boat. “How many people are on board?” she asked out loud.

  “A little over 240, at the moment,” Tessa answered. “And we can accommodate more as needed.”

  “So why haven’t I seen many of them?”

  “Well, because...” Standing at a dead end in front of a closed watertight door, Tessa stopped and cleared her throat. “Kaname-san, you speak English, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, pretty well,” Kaname answered. She’d lived in New York until three years ago, after all. She was a little rusty, but she could handle day-to-day conversation, at least.

  “Let’s switch over to that now,” Tessa suggested.

  “Um, sure.”

  “All right, then follow me. Kaname-san, I’m not sure if you like this kind of thing, but...” Tessa prefaced, then pushed open the thick door and stepped into the room beyond.

  Kaname narrowed her eyes suspiciously but walked through. The stagnant air of the passageway gave way to a gentle breeze; the smell of oil stung her nose, and strong light greeted her eyes. “Ah...”

  She was standing in an enormous room, which was lit up as bright as day. The ceiling was a little lower than her school gym, but it was deep. Cranes dangled from the ceiling, large screens lined the upper walls, and fuel tanks for helicopters and AS-sized rocket launchers were secured to metal frameworks. They were in a hangar, and along that hangar’s port side stood about 200 crewmen in three neat lines. They spanned from about where Kaname was standing to the back wall: all different ages and races, dressed in a variety of uniform styles. There were khaki suits like Tessa’s, olive green fatigues, orange and blue work jumpsuits, helicopter pilot uniforms, lab coats, cook’s whites, and so on.

  There were also six arm slaves—those eight-meter-tall humanoid weapons—lined up behind them, just as neatly as the people. Their heads were inches from the ceiling. Kaname knew them; five were the model known as the M9, while the furthest one back was the white one Sousuke had piloted before. It wasn’t just ASes, either; she could see helicopters and fighter craft lined up neatly beyond them, as well. The sight of the soldiers and weapons of the de Danaan all assembled in the hangar proved a truly impressive view.

  What are they doing? Kaname wondered.

  The middle-aged man standing next to them caught Tessa’s gaze and nodded. He was a skinny man with glasses and a dour way about him. But despite his appearance, he managed such volume when he called out that Kaname found herself cringing in shock. “Atten-SHUN!!” All present went from rest to attention—two hundred people and six machines, all moving in unison.

  “Huh? Huh?” Should I go to “attention” too? Kaname found herself stepping back, flustered.

  The man spoke again. “Chidori Kaname, for repeated displays of exceptional courage, decisiveness, and kindness in the face of dangers to Colonel Testarossa and our squad mates, we extend our most heartfelt gratitude.” The man took a deep breath and cried, “Salute!” At his command, all assembled raised their right hand in a salute in the style of the military of their origin.

  All of their eyes were on her. Some were utterly serious, some were smiling, some looked appraising; some even seemed to be holding back tears... At the end of the line, Kaname could see Major Kalinin in his olive fatigues. His injuries seemed to have healed, and he held his large body straight and tall as he saluted Kaname respectfully. The six ASes were also saluting, looking down at her. The earnest arch of the white one’s back suggested to her that the pilot was Sousuke; even reflected by a mechanical marionette, she could still recognize his mannerisms.

  The M9 second from the end brushed its robotic temple with two fingers, then waved to her with its right hand; that humanoid weapon was hitting on her, which meant its operator was probably Kurz. That meant the next M9 over, nudging it in its mechanical ribs, must be piloted by Mao.

  “I realize it’s a bit much, but...” Tessa said with a smile as Kaname stood there, gaping silently. “When they heard you were coming, they all said they wanted to honor you, someh
ow.”

  “Huh... what? M-Me? Um...” she stuttered. The realization that she was the center of attention sent Kaname into an even worse panic.

  The hijacking incident four months ago; the giant AS incident two months ago... Kaname had played an important role in both. She’d been thrown into these situations against her will and thus had simply been doing what was necessary to survive. But the end result was still that she had saved many lives—including those of Sousuke and Tessa. This welcome was the best way for the people of the de Danaan to pay respect to the bravery of this ordinary citizen.

  “Um, I... I’m honored. But I... I didn’t do anything all that great...” Kaname mumbled, her ears going red. When Tessa conveyed her sentiments to the group, the soldiers burst out in laughter, applause, and cheers.

  “Hey, look! She’s blushing!”

  “Oh man, she’s cute!”

  “Show some respect, guys...”

  “Hey, hey! She’s just like I said, right?”

  “Kaname! Can I hook you up with my son?”

  “Damn that Sagara, I’m gonna shoot him in the back...”

  The crew’s discipline was gone in a flash, replaced by noise and rowdiness. It felt strange to Kaname to have so many complete strangers making such a fuss over her.

  “Quiet down, you lot!” the old man giving the orders scolded, a vein rising on his forehead.

  Tessa watched with a slightly pained smile. “I’m afraid this version is closer to how they really are... But they really are all grateful to you. I hope you’ll recognize that.”

  “B-But... I really didn’t do anything, you know? It’s not like I saved everyone here...” Kaname genuinely didn’t know how to react to this. She hadn’t saved the submarine itself, she’d just helped out a few people present from the sidelines. The “hero’s welcome” felt a little misdirected.

  “Untrue, Miss Chidori,” said the gentleman who’d given the orders, turning to face her. “It is not the end result that matters most, but your conduct when danger stares you in the face; the difficulty of the actions you took. We all know that very well.”

  “Ah,” Kaname said meekly.

  “The things you did wouldn’t be easy even for trained soldiers. You deserve to be proud.” His voice was easy and nonchalant, completely different from when he was giving commands. Kaname remained hesitant to accept the compliment.

  “Colonel Mardukas is correct, Kaname-san. Anyway, the ritual is over... We were planning to hold a little party,” Tessa suggested, “if you’d like to join us.”

  “A party?” Kaname blushed. “Um, that might be crossing a line, as welcomes go...” Besides, wasn’t this a military vessel? Even a layman like her had to wonder if it was all right for them to drop everything and have a party.

  “Don’t worry. It will be a full day before we arrive at our destination,” Tessa said reassuringly. “And the party was planned from the start, for a different reason.”

  “Huh,” Kaname said. “What reason is that?”

  “Well, the truth is...” Tessa looked up at the hangar’s ceiling with a small, happy smile. “Today is her first birthday.”

  26 August, 1335 Hours (Greenwich Mean Time)

  Main Hangar, Tuatha de Danaan

  It had been a year to the day since the Tuatha de Danaan first left port. The original plan had been to celebrate in grand fashion at Merida Island Base, but the sudden mission order had forced them to shift gears; they would be holding a small on-board party, instead. A corner of the hangar served as an impromptu party venue. Tablecloths were spread over empty ammo cases, and food was brought out from the galley. An M9 decorated with ribbons and tarps sat on one knee, holding out a banner in its hands: “Happy Birthday, Dear Tuatha de Danaan!” The menu was the usual stuff, and there was no alcohol allowed, but it was still more festive than a standard meal in the boring old mess.

  The party started in a natural way. Crew came and went from the venue as they went on and off duty, enjoying food and conversation at their leisure. The ground forces were currently unoccupied, so there were relatively more of them present.

  After a short but memorable speech from Tessa, Sergeant Kurz Weber played host to a bingo tournament. Kurz was a member of the ground forces’ elite special response team; a blond-haired, blue-eyed, attractive young man, he seemed like the kind of person who was always up for a party. “Okay, let’s get this rolling,” Kurz said to the crowd, holding a magic marker like a microphone. “We’ve got three prizes today. Third prize: the tip of the radar mast that broke off the first time the Tuatha de Danaan left port. It was our first accident; an event worthy of commemoration. It bears the signature of both the captain and the supervising officer, and makes a fine souvenir to decorate your cabin.”

  The crowd booed. “We don’t want that hunk of junk!”

  Kurz ignored their complaints, and continued. “Next! In the Merida Island Base officers’ residences, there’s a cushy set of accommodations that’s currently unoccupied. Second prize is, you get to live in those quarters, even if you’re rank-and-file!”

  The NCOs and rank-and-file soldiers clearly loved the idea and affirmed their excitement amongst themselves, but the officers already living in that area seemed unimpressed.

  A second lieutenant who served in the engine room raised his hand. “Sarge, I live next to those quarters. What happens if I win it?”

  “What do I care?” Kurz scoffed. “Cry and deal with it.”

  The lieutenant sank into annoyed silence.

  “Last but not least,” Kurz continued, “our marvelous first prize! This one’s really something. It’s a truly rare item, not easy to come by—I admit, I kinda wanted it too. The first prize is...” Kurz tossed away his notes and declared, “...a kiss from Captain Teletha Testarossa!”

  “Whoooooa!” Most of the male soldiers present erupted. Some pumped fists in the air, others began to hyperventilate, while still others did backflips in excitement.

  Tessa, who was standing next to Kurz, just stared into space for a while. Then she snapped back to reality. “W-Weber-san?! I never agreed to this!”

  “Huh?” Kurz blinked. “But you said you’d help in any way you could...”

  “W-Well... I did say that, true...”

  “If you don’t like it, you could donate some well-used underwear,” he suggested.

  “That’s worse!”

  “All right, then it’s a kiss!” Kurz insisted, and the tournament proceeded.

  Kurz spun the cage and read the number from the first ball that came out. Participants mumbled among themselves and punched holes in the cards they’d been given in advance. The rule was that whoever got five in a row first won the grand prize. While things proceeded, Tessa sat, shoulders slumped and distressed, in a corner of the stage.

  When it was about time to read the fifth number, Kurz addressed the audience: “Anybody close? Not yet?” A sullen-faced participant raised his hand. It was Sousuke.

  “What...” Tessa felt a thump in her chest, and put a hand to her now-racing heart. Kaname, who was standing next to Sousuke, tensed up and looked nervous. The other men participating clicked their tongues in frustration.

  Sousuke just looked around blankly (if with a trace of suspicion) at the reactions of those around him. He seemed to be the only one present who didn’t comprehend the meaning of the prize. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked in confusion.

  “Lucky bastard...” Kurz groaned, then continued the game.

  Tessa suddenly found it hard to sit still. What if Sousuke wins? she wondered. That would be an excellent result, wouldn’t it? It would be a rare chance to get closer to him, given my position. I could just...! Oh, but the idea of kissing him in front of a hundred of my crew... It would be too embarrassing. What to do? What to do? her thoughts continued to race.

  “Almost there!” one of the ground force officers shouted. It was Captain Gail McAllen, of the SRT. His callsign was Uruz-1, and he was Major Kalinin’s aide; he was a
little man in his mid-30s, with a black mustache.

  “I’ve almost got it too,” said First Lieutenant Eva Santos, of the transport helicopter team, raising her hand. Though she was a woman, she seemed rather amused by the idea.

  “Ah, Sagara-san... Please...” Tessa whispered to herself. Please get it. I’m begging you. I’m waiting for you... She knew that it wouldn’t change the result, but she just couldn’t help wishing. Apparently ignorant of her feelings, Sousuke remained scowling down at his bingo card, deep in thought.

  “This is getting exciting!” Kurz crowed. “Will it be Sagara, McAllen, or Santos? Let’s keep things going!” The cage spun; the ball came out. Everyone gulped. Tessa was on tenterhooks as Kurz read the number. “B... 29.”

  “Sorry, fellas! That’s bingo!” McAllen declared with a smile. Groans and sighs echoed throughout the hangar. Some slumped to their knees and gripped their heads; others threw their cards on the floor.

  “There we have it! First prize goes to Captain McAllen! Condolences to everyone who missed out.” Kurz turned. “Tessa?”

  Slumping in disappointment, Tessa turned her eyes limply to Kurz. “Yes?” she said at length.

  “You heard the man. Up and at ’em!” Kurz replied while the group, recovering their fire, egged him on.

  McAllen walked up to the podium, grinning. He was usually seen scolding and berating the ground forces, but right now he seemed quite relaxed. “Captain,” he said. “Lay one on me, if you please!”