by Shouji Gatou
Nguyen was right; he wouldn’t let them go. And Kaname was in danger...
“Sousuke, here’s the plan,” Kurz called. Nguyen would be able to hear them, so he was speaking in Japanese. “I’ll draw this bastard’s fire. Use that opening to book it down the stairs.”
“By yourself?” Sousuke questioned. “But—”
“No arguing,” Kurz said shortly. “Kaname needs help. Go.”
Sousuke hesitated. “Got it,” he conceded, at last.
“Tell her you’re sorry, okay?” Kurz grinned. Sousuke nodded and got ready to run.
“What’re you two whispering about?” Nguyen’s footsteps came closer.
From the safety of the door, Kurz threw the pipe in their direction. “Go!”
The second he called out, Sousuke dashed into the passageway.
The large man approached, grinning, knife in hand. Kaname grabbed a folding chair and threw it at him, but Dunnigan batted it aside. She managed to climb to her feet and kept backing off, realizing for the first time that she was in the mess hall.
“Go on, keep running,” Dunnigan instructed her, coming closer. There was no mercy in his eyes. Her terror just seemed to delight him.
She ran into the galley, banged her hip on a table, and stumbled. No, it’s okay. I’m not finished yet. There are knives in the galley... rolling pins... frying pans...
Heavy footsteps followed. Behind her, the man entered the galley through the door. Kaname found a can of pepper on a shelf and threw it. It hit his chest, causing the powder within to spray everywhere, but Dunnigan just grinned and inhaled deeply through his nostrils.
Kaname was shocked. But she remembered hearing Sousuke talk about how, with enough training, a person could resist certain doses of tear gas... And of course, this man was a trained soldier.
“Sousuke...” she whispered. Where is he now? There’s no way he’ll come to save me. The cold way he looked at me. He thinks I’m a burden...
“Nowhere left to run, not anymore,” Dunnigan taunted her.
Kaname threw a bowl. It bounced off of him. She threw a spoon. It did nothing. She found a chef’s knife, and threw it with all her might. But despite what movies had taught her, it didn’t stick—it hit him handle-first and fell onto the floor.
“Stay back!” she yelled.
“No chance of that,” he chucked at her. “No chance.”
She looked into the mess through the galley window; no one was there. No help was coming.
Dunnigan charged, and it was like a tsunami bearing down on her. He drove her helplessly to the end of the long, narrow galley, then thrust her back and pinned her against the wall. She could feel the power of the man’s arm, the steel of his trained muscles, the stifling smell of his sweat.
She couldn’t breathe. She struggled. It hurt, and she fought to speak.
“You listen to me, now,” Dunnigan instructed. “I can’t stand Orientals. You Chinese, especially... you killed Nick. My Nick! You know how humiliating it was... having to salute someone like you?!”
The man was frothing with rage. Nick... who’s that? she wondered. An old battle comrade? Kaname didn’t have time to consider it any further. The man continued to grip her by the neck while he brandished his knife in his other hand. His eyes danced with madness and glee. How could an expression like that exist in this world?
“Chidori!” came a voice from the entrance to the mess. It was Sousuke.
Oh... he came, she realized. But he was so far away. Dunnigan’s knife was thirty centimeters from her face, while Sousuke was over ten meters away, with a wall separating them. It was too late. He wouldn’t make it in time.
Dunnigan seemed to share that sentiment. He showed a momentary reaction to Sousuke’s voice, but then returned his focus to her, pressing the knife to Kaname’s neck. He seemed to want to finish her off first. His arm tensed. He was about to pull. He was—
She didn’t give up hope. Even in a nosedive, a pilot would keep working the control stick and throttle to the end, and right now, Kaname was that pilot. Her hand scrambled desperately in the sink to her right—and caught hold of something. It wasn’t a knife. It wasn’t a rolling pin. It was a board—rectangular, slender, and made out of plastic. But she didn’t care what it was; she needed something, anything.
“Mmm...!” She slammed the board against his head with all the strength she had. Most men would consider it a pathetic strike, but for some reason, it caused the man’s face to freeze up in shock and surprise, and his hand to stop right on the verge of slicing her throat.
The left side of his face had completely caved in. The skin had peeled away from his temple to his jaw, exposing yellow fat and pink cheekbone. Blood began to ooze out, as if to hide the cruel wound from sight. The man’s already contorted face began to warp further as the agony reached him. Dunnigan began to roar; he released Kaname and drew back, cradling his face with his left hand and howling like a beast.
Kaname coughed, leaned against the wall, and looked over questioningly at the board she had grabbed. It was an ABS resin vegetable grater, used for cooking; its surface was sticky with what it had just sliced. She let out a shriek and tossed it away.
Dunnigan fixed a glare on her again, his blue eyes burning with fury. “W... Woman!!” The rage in his voice could have split heaven and earth.
But, powered by adrenaline, Kaname shouted back at him. “The name’s not ‘woman’! Y-You want me to fillet you next? Bring it on!”
“Dunnigan!!” Just then, Sousuke leaped into the galley.
Dunnigan reacted quickly. He drew a pistol from the holster on his hip, turned around, and fired. Sousuke rolled along the floor, scooped up the knife she’d thrown earlier, and took cover behind the refrigerator. Kaname guessed that he didn’t have a gun of his own. Past experience told her that if he did, he would have fired it into Dunnigan without hesitation.
“Dunnigan,” Sousuke said. “So you’re in on this, too?”
“You bet I am!” Dunnigan retorted.
“You killed Liang?”
“Yeah, and he deserved it!”
Sousuke made his move. He opened the refrigerator door, using it as a makeshift shield. Dunnigan fired regardless. There was a flash and a gunshot sound—at the same time, Sousuke threw the knife from the safety of the door. He’d been aiming for the enemy’s chest, but the man ducked, causing it to hit him in the shoulder instead.
Nevertheless, Dunnigan held his aim and kept shooting. “You can’t hide from me, not from me!” Catching on that Sousuke was unarmed, Dunnigan charged forward. He could finish him more easily from up close.
I have to stop him, Kaname thought, and dove out impulsively. She flew at the arm holding the gun. The wild-eyed man let out a roar and threw her against the oven, sending a crack through its heat-resistant glass.
But she’d created an opening. By the time Dunnigan had turned back around, Sousuke had abandoned his cover and begun his charge. Dunnigan cried in shock, and threw the knife in his left hand. Sousuke dodged it, but now a gun was in his face. Just before it fired, he jerked his head away from the muzzle. There was a ricochet sound; Dunnigan’s shot had missed its mark.
Sousuke grabbed his opponent’s arms and jumped; his powerful flying knee-strike caught the man in the jaw. This got a grunt out of Dunnigan as the large man reeled back and dropped his gun. But he continued to swing his knife wildly, and the blade caught Sousuke’s hair.
Sousuke rolled along the ground and picked up the dropped gun, then aimed it at the man’s head from a near impossible position. He fired—two, three, four times. He emptied the chamber.
“Gh... Chine...” Despite taking multiple .45-caliber shots to the torso, Dunnigan didn’t fall. Like the legendary Benkei, he remained standing, then took one step back, two...
“Go down.” Sousuke stood up, and unceremoniously kicked the man in the chest. The measuring cups rattled in the sink from the force with which the giant hit the ground, back-first. It was over. Eyes wide and
glaring at the ceiling, Dunnigan breathed his last.
Silently, Sousuke helped Kaname up from where she had fallen beside the oven. They were both covered in sweat. Kaname was particularly bad off; she was covered in bruises and scrapes, her hair was a mess, and her ripped tank top was covered in Dunnigan’s blood.
“Chidori?” Sousuke asked, his shoulders heaving, but Kaname just gazed at him, glassy-eyed. “Were you injured?” he tried again. “Where does it hurt?”
“Everywhere,” she answered at last, weakly. But her pride had taken a worse beating than her body. Once again, she’d been saved, and it filled her in equal measure with relief and shame. The two contradictory emotions merged together into one powerful feeling, and everything she’d been holding back all this time surged up inside her at once.
“I...” The questions she’d asked herself at that safe—Why was she still here, running around, hunting for clues instead of escaping? What was she trying to prove by putting herself in this much danger?—she finally knew the answer to.
“I’m just a burden, right?” she asked, voice trembling. “I’m just a burden on you, right? You’d be fine, just fine, on your own. Even now... even now... you weren’t afraid... even a little... not at all...” She couldn’t say anything more. She hung her head, trembling, as sobs squeezed up from her throat. Tears fell onto her thighs, thick and hot.
“Chidori...” Sousuke crouched down and touched her shoulder. After a silence that felt like forever, he spoke awkwardly, and with hesitance. “I... I’m sorry. You’re not... a burden. Not at all.”
She said nothing.
“Don’t you remember?” he asked helplessly. “You’ve helped me countless times before. I would have been dead a long time ago, if it weren’t for you. Just now, too... Dunnigan had a gun. I’m not sure if I could have beaten him by myself... I’m sure I couldn’t have, in fact. It’s because of you that I...” Sousuke hesitated a moment. “It’s because of you that I’m here right now. So don’t tell me I’d be fine on my own... please.”
Kaname looked up at him, tearfully. Their eyes met for just a second, but Sousuke immediately turned away, scratching at his temple with a finger. His expression was nervous and dejected.
“Okay,” she said at last, sniffling. “I got it. Anyway...” Just then, she realized that his leg and shoulder were stained with blood. “Sousuke, you’re hurt...”
“I’m okay,” he told her. “They’re minor injuries. I’ll tend to them later.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure; don’t worry. What about you? Can you stand?”
“Yeah...” Kaname took Sousuke’s proffered hand tightly. It was warm, and gentle, and very strong.
Just then, a high-pitched noise rang out through the submarine. It was a sound she’d never heard before, like something metal hitting the hull.
“That’s an active sonar sound...” Sousuke whispered, eyes turned to the ceiling.
“What’s going on?” Kaname asked anxiously.
“A submarine is trying to fire a torpedo at us.”
USS Pasadena
The Pasadena picked up the sound of the Toy Box diving again. It was setting a northward course, accelerating to about 30 knots, at about four miles away.
The Toy Box didn’t usually run this loud. During their close call the other day, it had moved smoothly, almost elegantly. Now, it was making a racket like a drowning whale.
Captain Sailor directed their vessel through the water, setting up an ideal attack position. Their active sonar told them the exact location of the “enemy sub.” Their SSN’s torpedoes were the latest MK 48s, also known as ADCAPs, and they could easily reach speeds in excess of 60 knots. They each carried a 300-kilogram payload, and one hit could sink any vessel with ease. They were just waiting for the right moment to fire two of them off.
“Tubes three and four are open. We’re ready to fire at any time!” said XO Takenaka. His words were brisk, but his voice remained tense with nerves. He looked at Captain Sailor, whose eyes were gleaming dangerously, and sought confirmation. “Um... are you serious about this?”
“Of course I am! If we let it get away now, it’ll be our heads on the block!” Sailor responded authoritatively, and then gave the order. “No mercy. Fire three!”
“Aye aye, sir! Fire three!” The ADCAP fired in a rush of pressured air. It sang through the water, trailing a line of tiny bubbles.
Sailor’s merciless plan was to fire just one ADCAP at first, then a second a few minutes later. The enemy sub would be forced to take evasive maneuvers to dodge the first one. Then, even if they succeeded, even if they avoided a fatal injury—the second, coming a few minutes later, would be there to finish them off.
To finish them off—that was all the Pasadena wanted. According to their calculations, the first torpedo would hit the Toy Box in six minutes.
Control Room, Tuatha de Danaan
《Contact with high-speed screw on bearing 2-9-2. Assumed to be a torpedo of some kind. It is likely approaching this vessel,》reported the infuriatingly calm voice of Dana. An experienced sonar technician would be able to name the classification, number, speed, and depth of the torpedoes, but this was another one of Dana’s limitations.
The control room’s front screen displayed a magnified view of their local area, where the mark that represented the torpedo could be seen closing in on the de Danaan. Just five minutes left—without the use of their superconductive drive, there would be no way to shake it off. It was unavoidable, and one hit would sink even something as massive as the de Danaan. The catastrophic water pressure would crush them, demolish everything on board, and leave their twisted wreckage strewn across the ocean floor for kilometers.
“You monster,” Tessa whispered, glaring at Gauron. “Give me control back at once. And untie our pilots and the sonar technician. I promise, they won’t fight you!”
“No,” Gauron said carelessly.
“They’re about to sink us!” Tessa insisted. “I’m not sure if even I can dodge that thing... but I know for a fact that you can’t!”
“We won’t know that until I try, will we?” he retorted.
“You’ll die too!” she yelled. “Are you trying to kill yourself?”
“Kill myself?” A smile appeared on Gauron’s face. It was a darkly humorous smile, like he’d just heard a particularly wicked joke. “Kill myself, eh? That would be the world’s most extravagant suicide, wouldn’t it? Taking a hundred million dollar piece of hardware with me... Not the worst thought in the world, is it?” he chuckled.
A death wish... Tessa realized it in that moment: Gauron had no attachment to life at all. This explained everything. Why he’d engaged in such reckless terrorism just to lure them there, why he’d gotten himself taken hostage despite the danger it put him in, why he’d attacked a US Navy ship unprovoked... Nobody would ever act this way if they cared about going home alive. We’ve been misreading him from the start, Tessa thought. What have I done?
“Then how about a game of chicken?” Gauron mused. “Take us to a depth of 1500.”
《Warning. This order exceeds tested depth limit.》
“So? Let’s just try it out.”
《Aye, sir.》The boat tilted further, carrying the de Danaan toward the abyss.
While the vessel around him careened toward its doom, Kurz continued to face a more personal danger. Nguyen was just down the hallway with a gun, while Kurz had no weapons. He’d have loved to have bravely faced him down, but keeping out of the line of fire was taking everything he had.
The second he left the shelter of the door, he’d be hit with a bullet, no question. He was dealing with the marksmanship of a member of the SRT, after all—There was no way to move fast enough to dodge a hit from someone like him, in a hallway with an unimpeded sight line.
Plus, they’d just gotten a ping from an active sonar. It was probably a torpedo from a US submarine; if they couldn’t stop it, they’d all end up dead. It was the worst situation imag
inable—simultaneous threats from within and without.
“It’s gonna turn us all to sea scrap, you know. Are you okay with that?” Kurz shouted.
Nguyen just laughed. “We’ll be fine. This thing can outrun a torpedo, can’t it?”
“You idiot,” Kurz screamed back. “Modern torpedoes are insanely fast. And this is the US Navy we’re dealing with!”
“So what, we’re supposed to join together for our common good? I’m not falling for that bluff,” Nguyen said. He seemed assured of his dominance in the situation. “But, actually... that’s an idea. Come out with your hands up and I’ll spare you, Kurz. I don’t have anything against you personally.”
“Go to hell,” Kurz spat back.
Nguyen laughed from across the hall. “I’m serious. Come with me to the control room. Talk to Gauron, maybe kill a member of the crew to prove you’re with us... Then he’ll cut you in, too. The pay’s good, I promise.”
“Ugh, lame.” It was Kurz’s turn to laugh now. He had just imagined getting out of this scrape by putting his hands up, walking out, and saying, “Okay, I’ll join you.” It was pathetic; so pathetic that he couldn’t help but laugh, even in a dire situation like this. “Who could ever shoot his mouth off to his girl after that? Nguyen, you’re an embarrassment.”
“Shut up.” The other man’s voice turned dangerous as he recognized the mocking tone. “Do you know how much Gauron’s organization is paying me? Five million dollars.”
“Five...” Kurz trailed off. That was close to 600 million Japanese yen; enough money to keep a man in comfort to the end of his days.
“They put two million into my bank account up front,” Nguyen said flatly. “Guess they figure it’s a small price to pay to get their hands on a billion-dollar submarine. You’re gonna laugh off five million because it’s ‘embarrassing’ and ‘lame’? Sounds like a spoiled rich-ass who’s never lived hand-to-mouth...”
With a payout like that, Kurz would never have to worry about money again. He’d be set for life. He could live in the lap of luxury on a tropical island somewhere. He could wash his hands of this whole bloody business... and transfer her to a better hospital, too.
