by Shouji Gatou
“It was an awful town,” Wu grumbled. “Makes a man doubt the existence of God. The only decent hospital was in my base, too.”
Yang and Wu were sharing Christmas memories.
“C’mon, Wu, don’t you have any more cheerful stories? This is just depressing... Hey, Captain. Can’t you walk any faster?” Yang said leisurely to Harris, who was moving sluggishly along, hands cuffed behind him, dragging his right leg.
“I got shot in the leg, remember? You could have at least prepared a stretcher!” Harris, still worked up about the shooting, snapped back at him.
“Listen to this needy old codger...” Wu put in. “Why’d we get stuck with this guy, Corporal?”
“No idea.” Yang sighed. “Darn it. I wish I was on Kurz’s team.”
“They get to go to a party full of teenage girls...”
While Wu and Yang were grumbling to each other, the masked Kurz Weber was standing on stage in the ballroom, singing passionately into the mike as he played the guitar. “Wow! Take me out trench! A fat cat in front of Maya says that! Yeah!” The Jindai High School students were cheering, clapping their hands and swaying to the beat.
“Wow! He’s really good!”
“Eee! That masked guy is so hot!”
“He sounds a little like a foreigner I met once...” Kyoko muttered, but nobody was listening to her.
“Thank you! Come on, everybody!”
Yang and Wu just sighed as they walked down the dark corridor, as if they really could hear Kurz carrying on.
“He brought a guitar, right?”
“Yeah, he knew he was gonna do it. That guy’s nuts.”
“And easy to flatter...”
“And always ready to show off...”
Just then, a noise came from a crew cabin nearby. It sounded like a pen falling to the floor, followed by a rustling of clothes.
“Uruz-9 to Uruz-1. Any friendlies in D30?” Yang whispered into the radio after a pause. He had already turned his submachine gun towards the cabin. It was loaded with non-lethal rubber bullets, but they would still hurt when they hit—a few rounds fired into someone’s face would feel like a pounding from a pro boxer. Wu pulled Harris in closer, while keeping an eye out in the other direction.
The number of hostages their teams had reported in was a match for crew and passenger rosters. There shouldn’t be anyone else wandering around in the ship besides them.
Lieutenant Clouseau responded immediately. “Uruz-9. Negative. Report your status.”
“We just heard a sound in one of the cabins,” Yang responded. “Investigating now.”
“No, leave that to someone else. Prioritize transporting the captain,” Clouseau ordered.
Yang clicked his tongue. “C’mon, they’ll get away by then... I’ll check it myself. If you don’t hear from me in one minute, surround the block. Out.”
“Wait—”
Yang turned off the radio, then signaled for Wu to stand by, and approached the cabin in question.
There was more faint rustling.
Yang took a deep breath, then opened the door, and stepped swiftly into the cabin. The only sign of life there was a white cat on the bed. Had someone brought it on board?
“It’s a cat,” Yang said after a long pause.
“A cat? Heaven’s sake...”
Yang slumped over, then turned back in the door to face Wu and the captain. Just then, he saw a large, muscle-bound man, holding a bucket over his head, appear behind Wu and Harris. “Wu, your six—”
His warning came too late; the bucket crashed down on Wu’s head, sending him stumbling and gurgling beneath the dirty water. “What?!”
“Wu?!” Though Wu and Harris were in his firing line, Yang didn’t hesitate to unload. They were just rubber bullets, anyway—they wouldn’t kill anybody.
“Ow, ow, ow!” screamed Wu, who was now wearing the bucket, while Harris hit the floor.
The attacker used Wu as a shield, then grabbed a wire hanging from the wall. “Take this, you damned terrorist!!” the man screamed, and pulled the wire with all his might. There was a metal clinking sound.
Yang was about to shout... and then another bucket fell down from the ceiling and landed straight on the top of his head. A limp crack filled the hallway.
Yang’s last thought before losing consciousness was, “I think I’ve seen this setup before...”
After giving a full beating to the be-bucketed terrorist—Wu, it seemed his name was—with his mop, Sailor cried out, “W-Well?! How do you like that?!” He then kicked the terrorist in the butt. The action was met with faint writhing and a moan.
“Hey, you! Are you the captain?” Sailor helped up the crew member, whose hands were cuffed behind his back.
“Ugh...”
“Don’t worry. I’m a friend. Killy B. Sailor, Commander, United States Navy. I’m the famous captain of the USS Pasadena, a tough-as-nails veteran who just happened to be on board. Once I get this all under control, I want you to introduce me to the media as, ‘the true patriot and iron man, Captain Sailor.’”
“R-Right...” Captain Harris agreed shakily.
Commander Sailor picked up the enemy’s machine gun and checked the remaining ammunition. Yeah, this’ll do fine, he told himself. The bullets aren’t the same color as the ones I used in standard training, but a real sea dog doesn’t sweat the details. “First, we need to make tracks. They’ll send reinforcements soon enough. You can walk, right? Actually, you’d better run.”
“W-Wait, sir,” Captain Harris managed to interject. “Could you take off my handcuffs, first?”
“Oh, for the love of... Fine, hold out your hands.” Commander Sailor pawed around the terrorist’s body, found a bunch of keys, and unlocked the captain’s cuffs. “Better? Okay, let’s go.”
“No, I need to find a radio and contact the outside,” Captain Harris announced bravely. “You should go on without me.”
“What are you talking about? You’re not safe alone,” Commander Sailor scoffed. “If you’re going for a radio, I’m coming with you.”
“I’m grateful for the sentiment, but no.” For some reason, the captain was adamant about going it alone. “This ship is like my second home; I know all the best hiding places. And we should avoid the chance of both of us getting caught at once.”
“Hmm...”
“We can meet up later,” Captain Harris suggested. “Do you know the shopping center? It has plenty of places to hole up and hide.”
“Understood,” Commander Sailor agreed gruffly. “Take care.”
“See you later,” the captain said. Then he turned around and started running. Sailor had no way of seeing the slight smile on his face.
Tessa returned to the vault from the corridor near the elevator hall. Mao, who was working busily on the lock, said to her immediately, “Hey, Tessa, quit hovering. I’ll call you once I’m in, so go somewhere and sit tight. Sheesh, you’re clumsy enough as it is...” She was so focused on the display, she didn’t even spare Tessa a glance. None of the other subordinates present paid her any mind, either. They were all too focused on their own tasks:
“I’m sorry, Colonel. Please get out of the way.”
“Colonel, ma’am. You’re in the way, standing there.”
“Sorry, Colonel, you’re distracting me.”
That’s what they all said. It annoyed her at first, but after being treated that way again and again, Tessa eventually lost the will to protest. She really was clumsy, after all, and she didn’t know anything about picking locks. The maid outfit she’d found so charming when she’d showed it to everyone before the mission now seemed silly and childish.
She tried asking if she should make some tea, and the response was an indifferent, “Hmm, if you want.” She asked if they’d like chamomile, and the response was an indifferent, “Whatever you like.” She felt like an absolute nuisance.
With a stinging sense of loneliness running through her, Tessa slumped over and headed for the crew kitc
hen on the same floor. It was a few minutes’ walk away, and turned out to be completely bare bones. She looked around for a tea set, but all she could find were coffee mugs.
Tessa sighed in resignation as she pulled out the small tin of herbal tea she’d brought with her. She took off her sunglasses and rubbed her eyes. She wasn’t going to cry, of course, but she did feel miserable. Come on, she told herself, We’re on a mission right now. She was the one acting unreasonably, here. She needed to stop acting like they were on a picnic, and appreciate her subordinates’ focus.
Still... I just feel so invisible. Today is supposed to be my special day, yet even Sousuke... He just ran off with that girl. And then in the elevator hall, they—
As she was gloomily filling the kettle with water, she got a call through her small earpiece radio. “Uruz-1 to all units. We have a situation.” It was from Lieutenant Clouseau on the bridge. “Uruz-9 and Kaun-28 were attacked near B19. Injuries were light for both, but the captain they were escorting was kidnapped. Be on your guard. Uruz-3’s team has the area surrounded, but he may have already escaped—”
Someone had attacked Corporal Yang and taken Captain Harris. Tessa cringed as she heard the announcement. Trouble had arrived. She had to cast aside her childish woes and get a grip.
Clouseau’s announcement continued. “—The attacker appears to be a passenger. Maybe he thinks he’s being a hero. Don’t kill him, or them. I repeat: do not kill the rogue element. The man who took Captain Harris is Caucasian, six feet tall, wearing a suit, with short black hair and a muscular physique. He stole a firearm, but it only contains nonlethal rubber rounds. I repeat. The attacker is Caucasian, six feet tall, wearing a suit—”
Tessa’s attention was snatched away from Clouseau’s communication. A man had just leaped into the kitchen. He was six feet tall, wearing a suit, Caucasian, with a muscular physique, and short black hair. On top of that, she had to say, he looked a bit like Arnold Schwartzenegger when he acted in comedies.
In other words, he looked just like the man from Clouseau’s report.
The man pointed a submachine gun (probably Yang’s) at her, and barked at the top of his voice, “Okay! Don’t you move, filthy terrorist!” Then he stopped and narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Tessa: a young girl, standing frozen in front of the stove, holding a large kettle and two mugs, and dressed as a maid.
“...Ah,” she said tactfully.
“Aren’t you part of the crew? What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, whipping his gun in various directions, with strangely exaggerated sweeps.
“Er... who are you?” Tessa tried again.
“It’s okay! I’m a friend,” Commander Sailor told her reassuringly. “Just a brave passenger who happened to be aboard. I just got done finishing off two of the terrorists!”
“What?”
“I also saved the captain, but he ran off on his own,” Sailor continued. “I’m a little worried... but eh, I’m sure he’ll make it out fine.”
He’d let Captain Harris—the Amalgam collaborator—run free? “Wh-What were you thinking?” Tessa demanded to know.
“Oh, don’t be a buzzkill. I’ve got the situation under control.”
“No, I don’t mean that—”
“Anyway, it stinks that my leading lady has to be a damned kid, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers,” Sailor grumbled to himself. “It’s dangerous here. Follow me.”
“Er... I don’t understand what you’re talking abo— ow, that hurts!” Tessa exclaimed in surprise. “Let me go! Wh-Where are we—”
Sailor began to march them along swiftly. “We’re getting out of here!” he exclaimed enthusiastically. “The terrorists are nearby! Good thing I found you first, or things would’ve gotten X-rated fast!”
“I don’t think that’s true. Um, please— ow, don’t yank my arm!” Tessa begged. “Stop this! Are you listening to me? Ow, ow...”
“Toughen up! This is life or death, okay? Pain comes with the territory! Get running, sailor! Show some balls!”
“I don’t have any balls!”
Tessa didn’t even have time to grab the submachine gun or sunglasses she’d left in the back of the kitchen. Dragged unwillingly by the hand and tripping over her unfamiliar high heels, she stumbled along behind him. All she could do as they went along was continue to protest, with tears in her eyes.
Same Timeframe
Observation Deck, Pacific Chrysalis
Kaname had been hoping for a romantic atmosphere, but the observation deck turned out to be dark, cold, and desolate. The bayside lights were no longer visible, the wind was biting cold, and the sound of the waves was more haunting than enchanting. This was the Sea of Japan sung about in enka ballads.
Feels more like the setup to a lovers’ suicide... The thrill she’d felt in the elevator was long gone. The scene, which was as far away from Christmas as you could imagine, had left Kaname completely numb.
“It’s a fine night,” Sousuke said, in complete defiance of her feelings. “I find climates like this very relaxing. Moonless nights are your ally, when it comes to running night raids. What do you think, Chidori?”
“What do I think?” Kaname parroted back. Still, it was unusual for Sousuke to be the one to speak first. She wondered if he was trying to cheer her up. “Well, it’s pretty cold, right?”
“Afghani winters are colder,” Sousuke shrugged.
“And windy.”
“Strong winds are frequently our ally. They mask our footfalls from enemy infantry.”
“I wish there were some nice light displays on the deck,” said Kaname, trying to change tack.
“We’re on alert,” Sousuke countered. “Illumination would be foolish.”
Kaname fell sourly silent. She just couldn’t get the conversation rolling, even though she was usually so good at facilitating these things.
Sousuke cleared his throat. “I’m reminded. Today is Christmas.”
“Huh?”
“In accordance with the custom of giving presents on Christmas, allow me to give you this.” Sousuke pulled a fountain pen from his pocket.
Kaname looked at it in confusion.
“It appears to be an ordinary fountain pen,” he went on. “But it contains a miniature stun gun. The output is 200,000 volts, but it only has the battery capacity for one or two uses. Don’t forget that.”
“Oh. Um... thanks,” Kaname said listlessly. The initial offer had made her heart skip a beat, but its result was frankly anti-climactic. Another self-defense tool—He’d given her any number of ‘platonic’ presents like this in the past. As this was supposed to be a Christmas present... well, she appreciated the sentiment, but couldn’t help feeling let down.
Again unaware of her feelings, Sousuke was embarking on a breathless explanation of how the weapon was used, when suddenly he got a call on his radio. “Wait a minute,” he told her. Then after a brief exchange, Sousuke grimaced.
“What’s wrong?” Kaname asked.
“Trouble,” he told her shortly. “I need to get to work.”
“Ah.”
“You should return,” he suggested. “I’ll escort you back to your classmates.”
The terrorists weren’t as good as Sailor had imagined them to be. They were pretty well organized, but their aim was crap, and they seemed surprisingly timid. It wasn’t just a hesitance to open fire—they actually seemed worried that they might hurt him or the maid. They’d get him surrounded like pros, but then in some critical moment, they’d always panic or back down.
“Don’t move! Stay where you— wait, Colonel? Owwww!” A terrorist that appeared around the corner of the hall took a hit from Sailor’s gun and fled.
“Graaaah!” Sailor howled, firing the submachine gun in his right hand and dragging the maid girl along with his left. “That’ll show you, you terrorist bastards! Try your worst! I’ll take you all on!”
“Erm, I won’t object to you fighting, if you wish, but could you please release me first?” T
essa requested.
“Yeah, fight me!” Sailor yelled, completely ignoring her. “Man-to-man! Sailor’s on the job!”
“He’s not even listening...” she sighed to herself.
“You sons of bitches! Take this! And this!” Sailor couldn’t even hear the maid’s pleas as he first sent his enemies scattering, then ran past them down the corridor.
After getting shot, the terrorists typically said things like, “Dammit, we’re taking it easy on him and it’s making him cocky...” but again, he wasn’t listening.
“Ahh, Corporal Howard— let me go, let me go!” The maid girl continued struggling, trying to escape Sailor’s grasp. He ignored her, turned to face an enemy appearing behind him, and fired. Just then, he heard a dull ‘whump.’
“Well? Don’t underestimate the United States Navy! You people are— hmm?” The maid had hit her head on a nearby pillar and fallen limp against his arm. She looked like a cartoon character seeing stars. Sailor stared at her for a moment, then shook it off. “Ah, whatever. Anyway, catch me if you can! You damned terrorist bastards!!” Still propping up the unconscious maid, Sailor kept firing and escaped from the block.
Same Timeframe
Passage C, Deck 3, Pacific Chrysalis
Harris held his breath and kept moving as he listened to the gunshots ring out in the distance. He’d nearly been discovered several times already, but of course, this was his ship, and he knew it by heart. It was full of passages that wouldn’t be marked on normal maps; largely maintenance spaces, hidden behind decorative fixtures, which made it possible for him to outwit his enemies and flee.
After all that, at last, he was able to calm down and think. No, he didn’t even have to think. This is not good, Harris realized. His plan had seemed perfect, yet they’d completely outmaneuvered him. He wasn’t expecting those people to raid the ship and take all the passengers hostage. It was utterly incredible.
At this rate, they’d not only expose the contents of the vault, but steal all kinds of data, too. Even if he got away and managed to hide... there was no way Amalgam would forgive this. They’d kill him, for sure.
