Dancing Very Merry Christmas

by Shouji Gatou

  “Aw, c’mon...” the girl giggled noncommittally.

  “Hey, new blood! Don’t hit on the passengers!”

  “Ah... fine, fine,” the young bartender muttered, the veteran crew member’s scolding returning him to the work at hand.

  As she watched him walk away, Kyoko whispered, “There’s something weirdly familiar about that guy...”

  “R-Really?” Kaname asked, her tone growing more and more awkward. “You’re sure you’re not imagining it? Most foreigners look alike, anyway. N-Now, let’s go somewhere else...” They walked for a while and peeked into a casino hall. They’d only just left port, but the passengers with a mind to gamble were already gathered around the roulette wheel.

  The dealer was a beautiful East Asian woman. She looked to be in her mid-20s, with a slender face and short black hair. She was wearing glasses, too.

  “Okay, place your bets! Place your bets and no regrets!” she sang out. “Place ’em fast or your time has passed!” It felt less like roulette and more like a period drama’s game of odds-and-evens, but most of the customers were laughing and placing their chips on the board nonetheless.

  “I feel like I’ve seen her before, too...” Kyoko said.

  Paralyzed, Kaname just responded, “L-Let’s go.” She didn’t know what else to say. What’s going on on this ship? she wondered. Maybe after she and Kyoko parted ways, she’d pull one of them aside and give them a full grilling. Yeah, that’s what I’ll have to do...

  But just as they left the casino and she’d made up her mind, their homeroom teacher, Kagurazaka Eri, came running up to them. “Hey, you two! Didn’t you hear the announcement? It’s time for dinner! All Jindai students, meet up in the grand ballroom!”

  Kaname suddenly realized that the students and passengers who’d previously been swarming the ship’s halls were now nowhere to be seen. “R-Right...” No choice, she decided, following after Kyoko and Eri, to head for the grand ballroom where the banquet would be held. The grilling would have to wait.

  After his personal greeting to Kaname, Captain Harris spent a little time looking around, making sure everything was ship-shape. It was, of course; this was his ship, and he was very scrupulous about safety.

  He didn’t want any problems or malfunctions happening here... especially tonight, with such an important event coming up...

  “Captain.” The engine room chief caught up with Harris in the hallway. He was Colombian, just past forty, with a black beard. “Señor, that Japanese girl you spoke with; was that her?”

  “Yes,” Captain Harris confirmed.

  “When do we take her to the vault?” the engineer wanted to know.

  “Late at night, I think. Wait until all the children are asleep.”

  “You think she’ll come quietly?”

  “Of course she will. We’ll have all her school friends hostage, after all.” The corners of Captain Harris’s mouth turned up. “We’ll throw her four-eyed friend off the side first, to make a point. That should bring her into line.”

  “The ocean’s very cold in December, yes,” the engineer observed.

  “It’s such a tragedy when people fall overboard,” Captain Harris continued. “On Christmas Eve, Chidori Kaname and her friend will go missing.”

  “What about those people—Mithril?”

  “We’ve already left port. They can’t touch us,” Captain Harris predicted. “This will make Mr. Gold happy, and I’ll regain my standing with the organization.”

  It had reached the time for him to give his speech at the banquet—an annoying ritual, but it was part of his job. Harris straightened his tie and began walking towards the grand ballroom.

  The grand ballroom, where the Jindai High students were gathered, was about the size of a school gymnasium. Lines of huge tables filled the cavernous space, covered in a feast stacked high on silver platters. Fragrantly spiced meat; mountains of seafood in wide varieties; whole roast turkey and roast beef that sparkled like amber; lobster halves glistening with juice. The dinner was buffet-style, and every bit of it was all-you-can-eat. The other passengers were apparently eating in other halls, with this space reserved for those related to and serving the students of Jindai High. Most of the students’ dining-out experiences were limited to hamburgers, gyudon, ramen, and soba, so naturally, the anticipation had them on the verge of tears.

  “Not yet!” the principal rebuked them, as the drooling students prepared to leap at the food. She was standing on the ballroom stage, gripping the microphone and glaring at them. “We must hear the captain’s opening remarks first! Listen to me, everyone. I told you before we boarded: Do not embarrass Jindai High School! There are other passengers on board, you know. Be discreet, and do not cause any trouble. Remember how you all spent the hijacking playing card games and bothering the stewardesses, and it was in all the magazines later?! I mean, your ideas about appropriate behavior are simply—” Principal Tsuboi continued to lecture them for what turned out to be a little over three minutes. “...That is all. Do I make myself clear?!”

  The hundreds of students responded with an unusually forceful, “Yes, ma’am!” Their eyes glinted as if to say, “We get it, so let us eat!”

  “Good,” Principal Tsuboi finished grimly. “Then let’s have a few words from the captain of the Pacific Chrysalis. Give him a round of applause, everyone!”

  The bearded captain strode up onto the stage. The students gave him a rockstar welcome, clapping and whistling.

  “Students of Jindai High. Thank you for your great patience. I’m the ship’s captain, Steven Harris,” he said into the microphone. The students were impressed by his fluent Japanese. “Welcome to the Pacific Chrysalis. I’m so honored that you all accepted my invitation. I understand your last field trip turned out to be quite an ordeal...” He cleared his throat once for effect. “But don’t worry. I promise, there are no terrorists on board my ship.”

  The students laughed.

  “Better not be!” one of them called out.

  “Appreciate it, Captain!”

  “Not like that would happen to us twice, right?”

  After allowing the students to settle down, Harris continued. “I appreciate the confidence, but I want you to know that I’m serious. Bringing smiles to my passengers is my number one priority. I take pride in guaranteeing you a perfectly safe and pleasant voyage, so please know that my crew will do everything in their power to... hm?”

  Harris paused in confusion as one of the servers climbed up onto the stage. He was dressed in the standard black-vest-and-bow-tie uniform, but for some reason, he was also wearing a face-covering balaclava, and carrying a shotgun.

  “Er...?” Captain Harris ventured, unsure of what was going on. With several hundred people watching, the man pointed the shotgun at the ceiling, and fired off a shot. With exclamations of surprise, Harris, the principal, and all of the students froze.

  “Nobody move!” the man proclaimed. He had some kind of device attached to his throat that made his voice low and raspy. A familiar, tight frown was visible beneath his face-covering mask. “Second-year students of Jindai High School,” he continued. “Listen to me closely. We are a ruthless terrorist organization known as the Determined Revolutionaries. This symbol of the imperialistic exploitation class, the Pacific Chrysalis, is now under our control!”

  His statement was followed by a long, long silence. Then...

  “Again?!” The students shouted in unison.

  The masked man responded indifferently to their shared heartfelt groan. “Unfortunately, yes. Control of this ship is now in the hands of...” The man looked up at the ceiling. “Ahh... Control of this ship is now in the hands of...” He then looked to the foot of the stage, as if seeking assistance.

  A bartender, who had arrived at some point holding a rifle, whispered something back to the man. He was similarly masked, but bits of blond hair could be seen sticking out here and there from his hood.

  “Ah... that’s right,” the first terr
orist continued uncertainly. “Control of the ship is now in the hands of, er, the Discriminating Red Army.”

  “That’s not the name he gave before...” someone observed.

  “Hey, I think he’s struggling a little...”

  “I’m not sure he knows what he’s doing...”

  While students whispered to each other, the terrorist looked down, and took another deep breath. “The point is, we’re cold-hearted terrorists who will gladly kill anyone, even women or children. Resistance means death! I’m sorry to say that my shotgun only contains rubber bullets, but anyone who resists will be shot until they cry uncle and—”

  “No! Real bullets!” the masked blond man hissed to him.

  “That’s right,” the first man agreed, without skipping a beat. “Deadly slugs. One hit will prove lethal; I’m not lying.” Then, he pointed to the doors. “Naturally, you won’t be allowed to leave this ballroom. Look!”

  The students turned around and, as expected, saw an array of armed, masked terrorists blocking the ways to the corridor and the kitchen. Most of them were men dressed as cleaning staff and servers, but for some reason, there was a petite woman among them. She had ash blonde hair, and was dressed in a maid’s uniform, carrying a submachine gun. The lower half of her face was hidden by a scarf, the top half by RayBan sunglasses.

  “Those people are all highly skilled, trained in Libyan terrorist camps,” the first terrorist told them. “Don’t even think about trying to fight them unarmed.” The terrorists blocking the exits all took an imposing step forward. The masked maid attempted to do the same, but she tripped over her high heels and face planted on the spot.

  “Colonel?!” the first terrorist shouted in alarm.

  The masked maid picked herself up unsteadily, then proudly but weakly hefted up her submachine gun as if to say, “I’m fine.” An awkward silence followed.

  The terrorist cleared his throat, then continued. “Anyway, that’s the situation. Now, Captain Harris, please come with us. As murderous terrorists, we have some negotiations to run down with you. Hmm? What is it?”

  Harris was staring, dumbfounded, and the terrorist followed his gaze. Chidori Kaname was stalking up the stairs towards the podium.

  “Stop, woman. Stop, or I’ll shoot.” The terrorist pointed his shotgun at Kaname.

  She didn’t stop.

  “I told you to stop,” he tried again.

  Kaname still didn’t stop.

  “Your foolhardiness will be your undoing. Obey, or see your friends and teachers blasted into—”

  Wham! A right straight punch from Kaname sent the terrorist slamming to the floor. The microphone went flying, and crashed to the stage with a deafening screech of feedback.

  “You know, Sousuke, you are really something else...” For better or worse, the mike didn’t pick up her voice. Kaname lifted the ‘terrorist’ up by the lapels. “Now, come with me,” she finished ominously.

  “Wait... Chidori! I can explain—”

  “Just come with me!”

  “Listen to me!” Sousuke begged.

  “What part of ‘come with me’ don’t you understand?!” Kaname snarled, stalking off the stage, half-dragging the terrorist with her. For some reason, his allies didn’t try to stop it. They actually looked a bit abashed about the situation, which is why the terrorist guarding the ballroom doors simply withered beneath her glare and stepped aside. The door slammed closed behind them, and silence returned.

  A buzz of whispers started among the Jindai High students.

  “K-Kaname-chan...”

  “Not even terrorists scare her...”

  “She’s so brave...”

  “I’m so impressed, Chidori-san!”

  “I think she’s just touchy because she’s hungry.”

  “But there was something familiar about that dynamic...”

  As the conversations continued, another terrorist took to the stage. This time it was a tall woman, dressed as a casino dealer with a checkered vest, a bowtie, and a tight, knee-length skirt. She was wearing large sunglasses, and carrying a famous German-made submachine gun on a strap over her shoulder. “Sorry about that,” she said with an awkward laugh. “Um, so, anyway, you’re all going to stay here in this hall. That girl had gotten pretty worked up, so our colleague escorted her to the infirmary.” It looked a lot more like it was Kaname who had dragged the terrorist away, but the woman sounded confident in her version of events.

  “Fortunately, you’ve all had experience as hostages, so I won’t waste time with all the dos and don’ts,” she continued. “Just find ways to kill time like you did last time—You’ll be back home safe tomorrow.”

  “I feel like I’ve heard that voice somewhere before...” Kyoko muttered to herself.

  “So, um... any requests?” the terrorist asked. “We’re happy to indulge, within reason.”

  “Excuse me, but we’re really hungry!” one of the students ended up shouting.

  “Ah, that’s right. Sorry about that—Go ahead and eat,” she told them. “I’ll check back in later.” While the students rushed for the mountains of food, the terrorists walked off the stage with the pale-faced captain in tow.

  1930 Hours

  Bridge, Pacific Chrysalis

  Those Mithril squad members who had infiltrated the ship as employees, and those who had landed in the ECS-camouflaged helicopter—a little over thirty in all—had broken into teams of three or four to swiftly lock down the ship. The machinery room and the crew cabins, the entertainment facilities, the communications infrastructure and temperature control systems, the storage rooms and the pantries... The simple presence of guns was enough to intimidate most of the crew and passengers into total submission. Each team precisely reported the number of hostages they’d taken, then gave an overview of their current status to their commander, Lieutenant Clouseau.

  Clouseau was currently on the bridge of the Pacific Chrysalis; he’d entered with two other PRT (primary response team) members a few minutes earlier. The navigator, pilot, and other on-duty crew surrendered immediately in the face of their rubber bullet guns. Clouseau wasn’t happy about putting innocent people at gunpoint, but those were his orders; he’d had no say in the matter.

  “Uruz-8 here. Area D4 secured, 32 hostages. Zero casualties.”

  “Uruz-5. Area A8 secured, 18 hostages, zero casualties. No resistance.”

  “Uruz-8. C-1 secured, uninhabited, zero casualties. Heading for C3 next.”

  Zero casualties, zero casualties, zero casualties... One of the PRT soldiers plugged the information into a nearby laptop as the reports came in. Most of the passengers and crew on the ship were already secured.

  “Uruz-9 here. D13 secured, three hostages taken. Zero casualties. We did meet slight resistance.”

  Clouseau heard the report of Uruz-9, Corporal Yang, over the radio. “Uruz-1 to Uruz-9. What constitutes ‘slight resistance’? Explain.”

  “A cleaning lady threw a mop at me,” Corporal Yang replied. “Now, she’s giving me an earful.”

  Clouseau said nothing. When he listened closely, he could just hear a middle-aged woman’s voice through the receiver, shouting things like “for shame!” and “get a real job!” He closed his eyes, a vein throbbing in his forehead. “We’re terrorists,” he reminded his subordinate. “You don’t have to listen to her.”

  “But she’s right,” Corporal Yang said guiltily. “It’s not right to threaten people with guns, even if we do have a good reason. She’s saying, ‘remember the faces of your family back home, remember Christmas as a kid,’ talking about home-cooked meals around the family table... She’s got my team all tearing up and questioning their life choices.” Yang’s voice was cracking a bit too.

  “Well, don’t start bawling, now,” Clouseau ordered. “I’m unhappy about this as it is.”

  “Sorry, Lieutenant. But it just doesn’t feel right, doing terrorism on Christmas... It’s a day when the whole world should be happy, you know? I’m missing my mom�
��s cheesecake.”

  “Just secure your other assigned areas as quickly as you can,” Clouseau told him. “Got it?!”

  “Uruz-9, roger...”

  “Heaven’s sake,” Clouseau muttered after turning off the radio. “I know why we’re doing it, but this plan is still absurd...”

  But why were they doing it?

  If not for Gauron giving them the keyword “badame,” they’d have never suspected this cruise ship. Mithril’s intelligence division had investigated it in advance and given it the green light, but it seemed they’d been wrong to do so. There was something more to this ship, and the invitation extended to Jindai High School had simply been a trap set by Amalgam, or by someone involved with them. This operation was their squad’s way of getting the drop on them.

  The mission was to be carried out almost entirely independently. They hadn’t told the intelligence division, naturally, but they also hadn’t told most of the operations HQ staff that the Tuatha de Danaan was going to take control of the cruise ship. They leaked different information to different departments, so by watching how Amalgam responded, they might also expose any moles in their ranks.

  They still didn’t know exactly what the ship was hiding; that’s what they were here to find out. This plan would let them ensure the safety of the students and Chidori Kaname, while also letting them investigate a suspicious section of the ship. As a way to strike back at the enemy when they least expected it, the plan made perfect sense.

  Clouseau hadn’t initially been much in favor of the plan that Sagara Sousuke and Kurz Weber had concocted. He and the de Danaan’s XO, Lieutenant Colonel Mardukas, were against the seajacking from start to finish, finding it “ludicrous” and “irrational.” But in the end, Colonel Testarossa and Major Kalinin steamrolled them by way of passive assent.

  I’m a first lieutenant, after all. I’m close to being promoted to captain. It’s about time I started learning to play politics, he’d decided. After all, they trained daily for dealing with this kind of terrorism, so they knew how to play the other side of it, but...