by Shouji Gatou
Tessa met his lecherous gaze with steel. “The facility that investigated Kaname-san in Sunan was on that ship?”
“That’s right,” Harris confirmed. “It’s a cruise ship that travels around the world, you see. Very convenient for abducting ‘candidates’—identified in the usual way—from various countries, and smuggling them past national borders.”
“Very inefficient,” Tessa said with a frown. “I would never—”
“You would never do things that way, right?” Harris asked, cutting her off. “But that’s the key; it’s exactly why you never suspected. Cruises may be more for the masses than ever before, but they’re still associated with the elite. Local customs, governments, and intelligence agencies all relax their standards for them. They think the very idea is absurd. And I know why you finally caught on, too—Mr. Iron ratted us out, didn’t he?”
Tessa made no reply, and the boat’s motor fell silent.
“Here we are,” he announced. “A luxurious flight awaits.” Through the cabin window, she could see the wing of a large aircraft, visible now that it had disengaged its ECS. Their boat slowly turned and docked on its starboard side.
“Get up.” Harris forced Tessa to her feet.
The craft they’d transferred to was the size of a jumbo jet, and large enough for several 50-ton tanks. It was far larger than the C-17 Globemaster II transports used by Mithril.
“Eyes forward! Walk!” A member of the aircraft’s armed crew prodded Tessa forward.
Soviet-made... Tessa realized. She’d seen a report about this from the intelligence division recently. It was the best plane in the world at water landings and takeoffs. A glimpse around the equipment loaded in the cargo room made it clear that it was designed for transporting smaller seacraft, too.
Once boarding was complete, the aircraft immediately picked up speed. It rocked as the waves licked the base of its hull.
The large aircraft lifted off from the ocean’s surface and rose into the night sky. There was nobody to stop them.
Pacific Chrysalis
“They got away,” Clouseau said gloomily after he turned off the radio. “The enemy... took the colonel.”
“Hey, there’s gotta be something we can do!” Kurz began, agitated. “It’s still there, right? Just use an anti-air missile, or—”
Clouseau cut him off. “You want me to shoot them? With her on board?”
“Ugh...” Kurz hesitated.
The enemy craft was already airborne. It would be easy for the de Danaan’s anti-air missiles to shoot it down, but then Tessa would die as well.
Their failure was in not noticing the aircraft parked in the water close to the Pacific Chrysalis. But what else could they have done? The de Danaan had been engaged with the enemy submarines, and Lieutenant Santos’s helicopter had been focused on the support and transport of the Arbalest. No soldier, no matter how elite, could have spotted the lurking ECS-equipped craft any earlier.
Sousuke had taken out the robots and the torpedoes; Mao nearly had the safe open. Mardukas had neutralized the undersea threat. Santos’s helicopter had apparently survived the hit, and the hostage group was nearly unharmed. The worst off among them was the American that had kidnapped Tessa... but according to the medic who’d been sent to treat him, he would pull through as well.
They’d worked their tails off, and they’d be able to withdraw safely soon. Yet Tessa was still out there, their mission’s sole casualty.
“Dammit!” one of the soldiers cursed. “How could this happen? And on her birthday, too...”
“She never mentioned that to me,” Sousuke said through the Arbalest’s external speakers, as Clouseau and the others stood by helplessly, in the tennis court, among the remains of the Alastors. “So it’s her birthday...” he mused. “There’s a lot going on today. A lot...”
“Um, Sousuke?” Kaname, who was slumping despondently with the rest of the group, looked up. “I mean... understatement, much? They took Tessa! How can you act like—”
“Oh, I recognize the seriousness of the situation,” he reassured her. “But I’ve heard it said that Christmas is a night when anything can happen.”
“Huh?” The group scowled at him, and the Arbalest’s AI spoke in Sousuke’s place.
《He is correct. My comrades, today is Christmas. According to information I have been receiving via radio broadcasts for the last few days, it is indeed a night in which anything can happen. Dedication is the key. Let us sing lovely songs. Let us celebrate God’s blessings—》
“How many dozen times do I have to tell you?!” Sousuke hissed at Al. “Shut up!”
《I beg your pardon. Please explain our proposal, Sarge.》
Sousuke clicked his tongue disapprovingly at Al’s casual tone. Then he cleared his throat and addressed the group. “Lieutenant Clouseau. Contact the de Danaan. Tell it to surface and sortie the FAV-8s. Have them buy us time. Then prepare the equipment I’m about to list off. It’s important that the maintenance crew be on top of their game. First...”
Clouseau’s eyes went wide as Sousuke listed off the equipment. “Are you mad?”
“No,” Sousuke denied. “Al ran the calculations and said that it was possible. The only question is if we can pull it off in time.”
“It’s dangerous,” Clouseau pointed out, one hand on his jaw as he weighed their chances.
“Agreed.”
“All right,” Clouseau finally said, looking up at the Arbalest. We’ll try it.” He switched on his radio, opening a channel to the de Danaan—which was already nearby and heading their way—to explain the plan in detail.
Kaname, who was quietly listening in from nearby, looked up nervously at Sousuke. “Are... Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly.
“But then...!”
“There’s something I want to talk to you about.”
“What—”
“I only realized it tonight. Don’t worry. It’s good news, I think. But I don’t want to say it while she’s still trapped out there.” The Arbalest’s eyes looked down on her. The machine’s right hand made a gesture; a thumbs up. “When I return, please hear me out.”
25 December, 0013 Hours (Japan Standard Time)
Over Pacific Ocean
She could see the moon from her window seat. Their plane seemed to be turning to the southwest... but confined as she was, Tessa could infer no more than that. What was their precise course? How fast were they going? What was their destination? She had no idea. Were her vessel and the cruise ship safe? Was the stubborn, yet kind-hearted, Sailor receiving first aid? Were Mao and the others making progress on the safe? Her mind swarmed with questions, and her own fate was the least among them.
After the plane had left the ground, Tessa had tried to resonate with Kaname again, but found that she couldn’t. For some reason, it wouldn’t work if they were too far away. Perhaps there were some kind of “mind waves” that grew weaker and more distorted as they traveled through air?
“Something to drink, honey?” Apparently having finished his conversation with the pilot, Harris returned to the cabin. “I’m sorry, we’re out of champagne... but we do have ginger ale. I don’t suppose you’d toast to our departure, would you?”
“Why don’t you toast with yourself?” Tessa suggested bitterly.
“Be nice,” Harris chided her. “I’m the reason you won’t be going down with that ship. You could show a little gratitude.”
Just then, the whole plane rocked. The roaring of turbines pierced the walls, and the ceiling of the cabin trembled.
“What?” Harris cried out, clinging to his seat.
“Mithril STOVLs in pursuit!” the captain shouted over the intercom. Tessa looked out the window and saw an FAV-8 Super Harrier, one of the fighters stocked by the de Danaan, flying startlingly close.
Harris went pale. “Impossible. The girl is on board. They would never try to—”
Outside the window, she
could see the red glow of a tracer round. It was a warning shot; this one also grazed the plane’s primary wing.
Harris cringed in his seat, and Tessa shot him a cold smile. “It’s only natural,” she said. “I possess a great deal of confidential Mithril information. They knew you might try to administer truth serum, so they’ve made the smart decision—to blow up the plane, and me with it.”
25 December, 0020 Hours (Japan Standard Time)
Flight Deck, Tuatha de Danaan
Sitting in the cockpit of the Arbalest, Sousuke adjusted his oxygen mask. Status reports from the submarine’s air traffic control officer flowed in. The large transport that took Tessa was flying at 350 knots, on course 1-9-6. Their FAV-8s’ threat had achieved the desired effect, causing it to drop altitude and speed.
“Still in range. But this is crazy, Sergeant Sagara. Just because it’s theoretically possible—”
“Not an issue,” said Sousuke, interrupting the officer. “Just support me.”
“All right. I’ll get you there safe and sound.”
“Thank you.” After having made that short response, Sousuke ran his eyes over the screen display, which was in shooting mode. He checked the rocket motors on each flight control surface. Fuel, check. Fuel pressure, check. The data link between his robot and the sub was working fine.
《Final checks complete,》 Al announced. 《Awaiting control room directives.》
The Arbalest was currently being fitted into a steam catapult on the de Danaan’s flight deck. An emergency deployment booster known as the XL-2 was strapped to its back; it was the same kind Mao and the other M9s had used during the Sunan rescue operation.
ASes were typically ground weapons, but these huge wings propelled them through the air on rockets, to send them to distant battlefields in relatively short periods of time. You were supposed to decouple before you reached your destination, so it was a one-way trip: you returned on foot, or by transport helicopter.
The roar from the booster grew louder, and pale flame began to stream from the nozzles. Superheated exhaust escaped upwards, directed by the large blast deflector behind it.
“Air traffic control room. Preparations complete.”
“Roger. Initiate final procedure. Uruz-7, you have permission to launch. Good luck.”
“Uruz-7, roger,” Sousuke responded.
《Sergeant. Final departure authorization received. Beginning countdown. Five...》 said Al’s voice, resounding through the cockpit as it shuddered with the booster’s power. 《Four. Three. Two—》
The nozzles contracted and roared with flame, and the AS began to pitch forward.
《Go.》
The locks came free. The catapult, which possessed enough power to throw a one-ton truck more than a kilometer, accelerated the Arbalest instantaneously. Powerful G-forces, ear-rending roars; Sousuke could feel his body sinking into the seat behind him as the edge of the flight deck rushed closer. The firing blocks released the Arbalest automatically, and he leaped.
The liftoff was successful. The digital altimeter’s numbers grew higher and higher. The de Danaan, seen on the Arbalest’s rear sensors, became a distant dot in the blink of an eye as he ascended to five thousand feet. In a normal firing sequence, this would be where the machine’s ascent would cease, and it would begin to cruise towards its target destination.
Yet the Arbalest’s ascent continued, higher and higher: its altitude reached seven thousand; eight thousand. The machine’s vibrating continued. The booster wings, generally meant for fine-tuning one’s course on lower altitude flights, began to feel unstable. The altimeter showed ascent, yet Sousuke felt like he was sinking. If not for the rockets running at maximum output, he would likely enter a tailspin and plummet.
Alarms and Al’s warnings blared around him.
《Boosters running abnormally hot due to prolonged max output,》 Al warned.
“Pray, then,” Sousuke said. “You knew this was a gamble.”
《I interpret that order to be a joke. But jokes are not useful at this time. What is the purpose—》
“Are you saying it’s nonsense?”
《Affirmative.》
“There’s something I’ve come to realize of late...” Sousuke whispered, nearly biting his tongue from the vibrations around him. “Jokes should only be said when they’re not useful at all.”
《A profound concept, worthy of consideration.》
“Save that for later,” Sousuke lectured sternly. “Focus on control.”
《Roger.》
Sousuke felt cold. The cockpit wasn’t pressurized for things like this. He’d done drop missions from high altitudes many times before, so he knew what his body was like in low pressure, but...
Eighteen thousand. Nineteen thousand.
Elevation: twenty thousand feet.
《Designated altitude achieved. Adjusting course based on air traffic control guidance.》 The Arbalest’s ascent stopped, and it began flying straight for its target. A few seconds later, Al announced, 《Target acquired!》
Sousuke’s night vision display showed him the exhaust heat from three aircraft: two were Mithril’s super harriers, and the other was his target. About the size of a jumbo jet, it could easily hold six M9-style ASes.
Tessa’s in there, Sousuke reminded himself. What he was about to do was exceedingly dangerous, and yet, he felt strangely confident. Not an issue, he thought again. I’ll finish this off and return straight home.
《Fuel reserves are low,》 Al reminded him.
“I know. Lower speed as we approach. From their six, altitude 15,000 feet.”
《Roger.》
The large craft drew closer and closer in his vision, as the turbulence from its wake began to rock the Arbalest violently. He wasn’t getting any closer; the wings of the emergency deployment booster weren’t designed for this.
But then, he wasn’t in a fighter jet anyway. Sousuke was in a humanoid weapon, an arm slave, and its uses were limited only by imagination. There was no need to get hung up on standard procedure.
“Let’s go!” he yelled.
《Roger.》 As they closed to a mere 50 meters behind the craft, the Arbalest thrust its arms forward.
“What are you doing?! Shake them off. Their cruising range is only—” Just as Harris ran into the cockpit, something happened; a metal scraping sound screamed out from the back of the plane. The craft bucked hard, and Harris nearly went toppling.
Alarms began blaring in the cockpit, announcing a rapid depressurization. Red lights flashed, and the pilot and copilot screamed at each other. “What happened?!” Harris cried.
“We seem to have taken several hits. Cabin pressure is dropping fast. We need to drop altitude before things get worse.”
“You’ve got to be kidding! Just shake them off!” He grabbed the captain’s shoulder, but the man knocked his hand away.
“That’s ridiculous!” the captain objected vehemently. “Get them to call off their attacks, then!”
“Just ignore them and keep flying,” Harris insisted. “You think they really have the guts to shoot us down?” That’s right, he thought. It’s all a bluff. If they wanted to shoot us down, they would have fired a missile much earlier. They just want to force us into a water landing.
By the same token, that means they can’t do much as long as we’re in the air. Plus, the enemy STOVLs have a short cruising range; if we just keep going a little while longer, they’ll have to give up the chase.
“Mr. Harris,” the captain said. “Bring the girl here. I’ll play her tortured screams over the radio; that’ll make them think twice about firing again.”
“But she’s— No, you’re right,” Harris decided. “That’s for the best. Maybe I’ll take a finger off of her.” On the pilot’s instructions, he attempted to return to the cabin to find Tessa, but...
This time, they were rocked by the biggest jolt yet. The craft plunged several meters, as if something had pushed down on it from above. Harris’s body r
ocketed into the air, slamming first against the cockpit ceiling, and then against the floor. Banishing all thought about the tremendous pain in his shoulders and back, he sat up. “Wh-What now?!”
But the captain didn’t even hear Harris’s question. His eyes were locked on the multifunctional display in the corner of the cockpit as he turned pale and moaned, “What... in the name of God... are they doing?”
The display showed a video feed from the camera affixed to the top of the plane’s tail. It looked down from its high vantage point, across the main fuselage and the wings.
There was someone standing there, on the roof just behind the wings.
No, not someone. Something. It was much larger than a person—a humanoid machine.
It’s an AS, Harris realized. A white AS.
The hostile white AS was clinging to the back of the plane. It fired off its wire gun, used it to draw closer, then stabbed its monomolecular cutter down into the roof.
“Shake it off!”
“Are you stupid?! I’d snap our wings off!” the pilot shouted, and then gasped. While the two of them were panicking, struggling to figure out what the enemy was after, the AS did something even more unbelievable: it opened its cockpit hatch.
The operator emerged, wearing a helmet and oxygen mask, and jumped from the back of the white AS onto the roof of the plane. There was a wire attached to his hips, likely anchored to the cockpit, to keep him from being blown away by the incredible air currents.
Though the AS was largely shielding him from the wind, it still seemed as though he could lose his balance and be swept off of the roof at any time. Yet the AS pilot dexterously leaped back ten meters, as if rappelling down the wall of a building, and brought something to hand.
“What is that?” The pilot asked. “What’s he planning to do?”
“That’s... a directed explosive,” Harris answered. All the color drained from his face, and he ran out towards the plane’s rear cabin. Was the AS pilot planning to blow a hole in the roof and come inside?!
