4: The Venom Spreads

28 August, 0411 (Local Time)

Berildaob Island, Perio Archipelago

“Time to get this party started... Dance for me!” Gauron laughed in a voice that crackled with madness. From the roof of the building, his AS fired its Gatling gun wildly. A Gatling gun was like a wheel of six connected gun barrels; it rotated at high speed to fire each in rapid succession, letting it rain shells down on them faster than any rifle.

“Uruz-1 to Uruz-6!” McAllen called. “Can you snipe him?”

“Negative,” Kurz responded. “I can’t get a shot from my current position. I’m on the move now.”

“How about a Hellfire, Uruz-10?!”

“Out of ammo, sir,” Nguyen replied tersely.

“Piece of shit!”

The 35mm shells shredded buildings and asphalt like confetti and sent the ground-locked machines scattering. Blinded by fragments and white smoke, the M9s continued to run at full speed.

“Uruz-7, advance! The rest of you, fall back! Give him cover!” McAllen called over the radio.

“7, roger,” Sousuke responded shortly, running the Arbalest forward in a crouch. Gauron... He didn’t even bother telling himself he was supposed to be dead. All he could feel was bitterness and exhaustion.

He was so sure he’d finished him back then, in the mountains of North Korea. But he’d been wrong. He didn’t know what kind of devil’s luck had kept the man alive—but regardless, here he was. He was inside that machine—the Venom—that stood between Sousuke and his goal.

In a situation where every second counted, he’d had no time to check if the enemy was dead. Perhaps his assumption had been mere wishful thinking?

Gauron. What are you doing here? he wondered. Was this a trap after all? The man was talking like he’d expected them. But if so, why would he show himself so readily? None of it made any sense.

Sousuke’s feeling before the charge began—that fear—began to well up again from deep inside him. He felt an itchy sensation at the top of his head. His breathing became labored, and he felt panic rising. He urged his nerves to return to their finely honed state, but they wouldn’t budge.

This wasn’t good. He couldn’t stay like this. He remembered that destroyed Dark Bushnell he’d seen, and imagined it as one of his allies’ M9s. If he messed up... If he failed... If he lost...

There would be no going back.

It’s Gauron I’m facing. I made it out of Sunan, but he... he’s come here to kill my allies again. Just like the last time. Three years ago, in Afghanistan...

“Uruz-7!”

McAllen’s voice snapped him back to reality. He realized with a gasp that he must have slowed down.

“Look alive over there!” McAllen ordered.

Gauron was firing grenades from a launcher attached to the Gatling gun. Small bombs rained down on them, bringing calamity in their wake. Explosions burst and popped like bubbles. Sousuke propelled his machine in a zig-zag motion, managing to weave it through the grenades.

“Uruz-7! What are you doing?!” The M9s of McAllen, Mao, and Dunnigan, which had pulled back, all fired their rifles at Gauron. Their indiscriminate barrage rained down on the Venom; 40mm armor-piercing rounds peppered its head, its chest, its shoulders, its legs... no, it only looked like they did. In fact, each round sparked and exploded inches away from the machine. There would be a warp in the air around it, and then a radial fracture would run through the building’s wall nearby—but the Venom itself remained uninjured.

“Is that the magic trick you mentioned?” Dunnigan growled.

“Affirmative. Keep away from it,” Sousuke responded, diving to the side to dodge a Gatling strafe. The immense enemy firepower made it impossible for him to close in. The data they had suggested that the effective range of the Arbalest’s lambda driver was a few dozen meters. He had to get into that range, then use that technique—“pour your will into the shot, then fire.”

“Not that we could get close like this anyway... Dammit!” McAllen cursed, hiding behind the wall of a warehouse, which was looking like a tattered old rag. It was only the M9s’ remarkable maneuverability that had kept them safe from the curtain of fire so far. If this went on much longer, none of their machines would be safe.

“Uruz-2 to all units. Don’t aim at the machine, aim at the weapon! The ammo belt for the Gatling—ah!”

“What is it?”

“I’m okay. Minor damage. Hurry!”

Without even a “roger,” McAllen and the others opened fire. Some leaped, others crouched. They were aiming at the Venom’s right side. Most of the shots were blocked by the usual forcefields, but—

Gauron cackled. “You know it’s pointless... hmm?”

A flash. An explosion. A shot had managed to hit the Gatling gun’s ammo reserves, igniting the gunpowder. This started a chain reaction through several hundred 35mm rounds, sending shrapnel bursting all around.

The force of it pulverized the building, and wreathed the area in swelling flames and black smoke. Gauron’s AS was nowhere to be seen. Had he been blown to bits, or had it simply flown clear?

“Did we do it?”

“Well...”

“Be careful!”

Just then—

The Venom seemed clothed in flame as it tore through the smoke from above. It appeared completely undamaged from the point-blank blast.

“Well, well!” Gauron remarked casually. “Not bad at all!” He landed with a crunch, then bolted into a charge, kicking up concrete like sand. The Venom’s spontaneous power was equal to—no, greater than the M9’s.

“The hell is that thing?!” Dunnigan shouted.

“12, fall back!” Sousuke ordered as he faced down the machine’s charge. Now was the time to use the lambda driver; he fixed the shotcannon at his mechanical hip and took aim. He could see the Venom in his targeting box, holding a large monomolecular cutter in each hand.

“Kaaashiiim!” Gauron laughed, prolonging every syllable. It was exactly like that moment four months ago.

“It’s time...” Sousuke whispered. I can do this, he reminded himself. I’ve done it before. I will make it work. If I don’t... if I fail... he swallowed hard.

Calm your mind—You have to stay calm. Focus your will—You have to focus. Imagine the shot—Imagine it. The image is important. It’s absolutely crucial.

Sousuke pulled the trigger. The shotcannon blasted out a 57mm shell. His aim was perfect. The winged armor-piercing shot flew right into Gauron’s AS—No. It exploded into sparks just in front of the Venom, as every previous shot had done.

Sousuke’s jaw dropped. Nothing had happened. He’d just fired a normal shot; the lambda driver hadn’t activated. He gritted his teeth. The Venom was already flying at him. Its knife-wielding hands were spread wide, as if to take the Arbalest in an embrace—

“Sousuke!”

Before Gauron’s knives could tear into the Arbalest’s cockpit, another M9 came flying from the side and tackled Sousuke out of the way. The two machines fell together in a tangle; the knife’s point sliced through the air where he’d been a second earlier.

Sousuke sat his machine up. “Mao?” he questioned.

“Get it together! Are you even paying—” That was as far as Mao got.

Gauron had stopped on a dime and turned to face them. He thrust out his right hand, and with his index finger pointed at Mao’s M9, he whispered, “Bang.” There was a sudden warping along a line of empty space between the Venom and her machine. Something ran along that line, an invisible power that slammed into the M9 and—

The noise that followed was unsettling: a low, dull thunk; cracking and screaming of the machine’s metal frame; fluid bursting out of something elastic...

An internal explosion of some kind caused the M9’s head to fly out of its socket—it dangled limply against its back like a rokurokubi, trailing various broken cables and pipes. Shock absorbent bled from the pipes and pooled on the ground below.

“Mao?” Sousuke called out nervously. There was no response. The M9 lay limp and motionless in the Arbalest’s arms, with no sign of movement at all. He didn’t even have time to check on the pilot’s safety; Gauron had already turned his “finger gun” to the Arbalest. Instinctively sensing the danger he was in, Sousuke had his machine pick up the M9 and beat a swift retreat.

Gauron released a low chuckle. “Come on, why so scared? I just pointed at you, that’s all.”

Sousuke bared his teeth, and glared ahead of him as he laid Mao’s machine on the ground.

“Uruz-7, what happened?!” McAllen’s and Dunnigan’s M9s took up his flanks and fired their rifles at Gauron from several hundred meters away.

Gauron, who appeared to regard their attack as no more than a light drizzle, hunched over, as if gathering power. “All right,” he said, “let’s try this again.” Gauron brandished his monomolecular cutters and went back on the offensive.

Sousuke flew back again, releasing a blast from his shotcannon. “Uruz-7 here. 2 is... down. I don’t know her status. Check on her while I draw the Venom’s fire.”

“What? Say that a—”

“I said Mao’s down! Check in on her already!” He fired and fired, but Gauron was relentless. Each shell from the shotcannon was deflected; he didn’t even leave a dent.

This isn’t... like before! Sousuke realized. The last time they’d fought, his opponent’s use of the lambda driver had also appeared limited. But now it was different; there was nothing holding Gauron back. Even total surprise shots weren’t fazing him.

On top of that, Sousuke couldn’t use the device he needed to fight back. No matter how he focused, he couldn’t get the lambda driver to work. He was panicking too much to use it, and his inability to use it increased his panic. It was a terrible spiral.

Just then, he received a communication: “Sousuke. It’s me.”

“Kurz?” Sousuke asked with surprise.

“Lure the Venom to the east side of the island,” Kurz told him. “Get it back to building D1.” Building D1 was the one Gauron had appeared on earlier.

“What’s the plan?”

“Don’t ask; just keep cool and get going. Leave this to me.”

“All right,” he eventually agreed. As instructed, Sousuke raced his machine to the northeast building. Kurz’s voice seemed awfully composed for someone who must have heard what happened to Mao—but Sousuke knew that was no reason to take him lightly. The mask he usually wore—of the perpetually laid-back, shallow man who irritated his comrades—there in the cockpit, hidden from the eyes of others, he had let it fall away.

Gauron pursued the Arbalest. They were a match in agility and explosive power, so it was hard to completely shake him.

“Are you just going to run away forever?” Gauron jeered. “Why won’t you play along?”

Sousuke had managed to get close to the building. It was 10 stories tall, five or six times an AS’s height—but the floors from the sixth up had been ravaged by the Gatling gun’s explosion.

“All right. Get in front of it and hold there,” Kurz told him.

The Arbalest stopped near the entrance on the building’s east side, which was littered with the remains of cars and concrete, and turned to face his pursuer. That’s when Sousuke realized: the place he’d arrived at was in the direct line of sight from Kurz and Nguyen’s sniper point. He increased his sensors’ magnification and saw an M9 readying a large rifle far off in the ocean. Right ahead of him, Gauron’s AS was drawing close. Sousuke turned his shotcannon toward the red machine and fired off a few shots. Each one was deflected.

“I’m disappointed, Kashim,” Gauron commented lightly. “I was hoping you’d have grown a little more skilled...” His knife flashed through the air. Sousuke blocked it with the shotcannon, which Gauron sliced in two. There was another flash, and part of his machine’s shoulder armor fell away.

A sharp thrust came at him from either side. Sousuke launched his machine forward hard, and managed to grab his opponent’s wrists. A normal operator would be dead before he’d reached this stage.

“Fighting hard, I see. But...!” The hands holding the knives continued to push forward. The Arbalest’s electromagnetic muscles creaked from the force as they tried to push back, pitting mechanical strength against strength. But the power of the enemy machine was incredible, and it had gravity on its side.

The Arbalest was forced back one step, two steps—until its back hit the wall of the building. Its frame creaked. The tip of the swiftly rotating, vibrating monomolecular cutter inched its way toward the Arbalest’s chest. “Ngh...” Sousuke groaned.

“Well, what now?! You’re about to die!” Gauron screamed. “And that girl you love so very much—”

“Uruz-7,” Kurz said calmly, “stay put.” The next instant, Gauron’s machine took a hit from the side. Shards of shredded metal went flying, and the enemy machine’s head snapped back. Even from four kilometers away, Kurz’s shot had flown true.

But—could it even guard against surprise attacks from that distance?—the 76mm shell still wasn’t enough to pierce the enemy’s force field. Fortunately, the sheer force of the hit did set the red AS off-balance, and that was enough to create a crucial opening. Immediately, Kurz poured on more shots: a second, a third, a fourth, a fifth. These shots were not aimed at Gauron; they were aimed at the half-demolished building behind him—each precisely-aimed blast took out one pillar or support. With the building’s upper half already holding on by a thread, the removal of these braces caused the whole structure to snap.

No, “snap” failed to capture the gravity of the situation—it was a cacophony of steel supports being wrenched apart, of concrete imploding, of every piece of glass in the building shattering immediately to powder. Hundreds of tons of building material were collapsing down from above in an earth-shaking, ear-splitting tumult... all headed straight for the Arbalest and its enemy.

“Get out of the way!” came Kurz’s warning, but it wasn’t needed. Sousuke dropped his machine down to sweep Gauron’s legs out from under him. Its balance lost, the red AS fell to its knees. Without even a glance back at the enemy, the Arbalest then leapt away, low and fast, like a bat out of hell.

An instant later, the collapsing building hit the ground, crushing the red AS beneath. The ground shook and roared. Pulverized building material, walls, floor, pipes, and furniture were scattered everywhere. There was so much dust in the air that the whole world seemed to go white.

“Sousuke,” Kurz asked, “are you alive?”

“I think so...” he replied. The Arbalest, which had thrown itself to the ground in its escape, slowly picked itself up. That was a reckless move on Kurz’s part, Sousuke thought. One wrong move and Sousuke would have died with Gauron. But he also had to admire his marksmanship—from a distance of four kilometers away, the pillars of the building must have looked like needles, yet he’d gone four for four, taking them all out in seconds. “Your skill is impressive,” Sousuke said in tones of great admiration.

“Bet your ass it is,” Kurz grumbled.

Just then, Dunnigan’s M9 came running. “You get him?”

“I’m not sure... Give me your gun,” Sousuke ordered, “and then stand back.” The Arbalest took the 40mm rifle from Dunnigan’s M9. He checked the remaining rounds, then kept the rifle carefully pointed forward, held in both hands, as he approached the mountain of rubble. He had no confirmation yet if Gauron was dead or alive. Surely, not even the lambda driver could hold up against a destructive force like that... right? But what if he was lying under the rubble, waiting for an opportunity to burst out and fly at them? Then he’d have to use the lambda driver to finish the enemy off once and for all.

But... can I do it? Sousuke wondered. His hands were soaked with sweat. Just then, there was movement in the rubble. Sousuke was startled; it wasn’t a sudden movement, just chunks of reinforced concrete slowly swelling upward and falling away.

The red machine appeared. It wasn’t holding a weapon. Its hands were both raised, and it spewed steam from its joints as it straightened up awkwardly.

Uncertain of his opponent’s intentions, Sousuke’s finger hesitated on the trigger. He hadn’t let his guard down, but he also wasn’t certain that shooting him would work.

“I guess you win this one... I overheated again,” Gauron said at last. There was a sound of depressurization. The red machine’s chest trembled then slowly split in half. He’d opened the hatch. For any AS operator, opening a hatch in front of the enemy was a sign of surrender. ASes were modeled after the human body, and given their skeletal structure, it was nearly impossible to move with the torso split like that. As far as Sousuke could tell, the Venom was no exception.

“It seems our positions are reversed from the last time,” Gauron chuckled. “I surrender; do with me as you will.”

Sousuke quietly seethed. “Get down from there.” He was struggling to keep his voice soft and calm.

“You’re not going to shoot me? You may find yourself regretting that...” That was the last word from the external speakers. A few seconds later, a man’s figure emerged. He was wearing a dark red operator’s uniform. There was a vertical scar on his forehead and a burn scar along his neck. He looked thinner than he had four months earlier, but it was Gauron, no question.

“So? What will you do with me?” asked the terrorist with a rueful smile.

28 August, 0440 Hours (Local Time)

Berildaob Island, Perio Archipelago

Within a mere thirty seconds after the battle with Gauron ended, the transport helicopters from the Tuatha de Danaan arrived. The members of the PRT—primary response team—disembarked and scattered throughout the base, while the M9s hung behind them for support. There were a few sporadic shootouts with the remaining enemy infantry, but they managed to secure the base without any serious injuries.

They took seventeen hostages from the terrorist group. Most of them were struggling mercenaries, who had been crowded out of various worldwide conflict zones. The American base personnel, 48 in total, were also liberated from the barracks where they’d been held. Normally, there would have been more men on base, but since it was summer vacation season, over half had been away.

As for Mithril’s own losses... Melissa Mao had survived. Gauron’s “finger gun” shot had passed just above the cockpit block, so it hadn’t actually hurt its operator. She’d just been knocked out by a concussion caused by the force of the impact.

The best news of all was that they had recovered Gauron and the Venom virtually unharmed; investigating man and machine would let them learn some things about the organization backing them. On paper, the mission was a roaring success...

But only on paper. To Sousuke, what happened back there felt like the furthest thing from success there could be. His failure to use the Arbalest’s lambda driver had almost gotten Mao killed, and they’d only survived thanks to Kurz’s quick thinking and Gauron’s stall-out. In other words, he himself had contributed nothing. He’d gotten lucky, no more.

McAllen had said, “Don’t sweat it. You did well.”

Kurz had said, “Hey, sometimes shit happens.”

Dunnigan and Nguyen had nothing to say at all.

The base was in a clamor with the counterinsurgency complete. Sousuke was in his Arbalest, standing in a pockmarked heliport on the base’s west side, protecting the landed helicopters. Nearby lay Mao’s damaged M9 and the red machine, the Venom.

Sousuke turned his eyes to a small transport helicopter. Next to it stood Major Kalinin, who had come with the PRT, as well as Captain McAllen and the tightly-restrained Gauron.

“Hey there, Ivan. How many years has it been, now?” Gauron seemed perfectly at ease, even in the presence of the large, burly Russian with eyes like ice.

Kalinin stared closely at the terrorist, his gaze one of murderous intent. It was a look that would cause a normal person’s heart to leap from their chest in terror. “What are you planning?” the Russian asked at length.

“Planning? Whatever do you mean?” Gauron chuckled.

Kalinin watched him a moment longer. “If you insist,” he allowed. “Just a warning—don’t expect the smallest hint of mercy. There won’t be any deals made, here. I’ll make you confess everything, and then I’ll erase you from this earth. Remember that.”

“I’m trembling already,” Gauron mocked.

Kalinin turned and addressed to the soldier next to him. “Take him away.” With a shove from the PRT member, Gauron boarded the helicopter. Kalinin and Captain McAllen took their distance as the machine began to lift off. “Get your men out of here within five minutes. I’m going to stay on the base, as planned.”

“Sir,” Captain McAllen acknowledged.

Kalinin still had some petty politicking to deal with: contacting the incoming US military forces and negotiating with them about the aftermath. Except for a few of his subordinates, all other staff and equipment—AS and transport helicopters—would be withdrawing at once. Gauron and the Venom would be moved to the de Danaan, while the other hostages would be remanded to United States custody. Kalinin really did believe he should have shot the man dead on the spot, but headquarters had ordered that Gauron be taken in. This “stealing” of the terrorists’ leader would surely earn blowback from the Americans.

While walking with McAllen, he sank into dark thoughts. That man clearly has something up his sleeve. A lifeline, at the very least... The Gauron that Kalinin knew would never engage in such reckless terrorism. He might act self-destructive and hedonistic, but he was still a professional; he’d construct his plans carefully, with achievable goals and a guarantee of his own safety in mind.

Gauron wasn’t suicidal. He’d put his own life over that of the whole planet; Kalinin knew that for sure. By contrast, the seizure of that base, the absurd demands, the easy surrender... none of it fit his usual modus operandi. It was no wonder Tessa was concerned; the base attack could well have been a diversion for Gauron’s allies to attack some other critical facility elsewhere.

Mithril’s top brass, having already acknowledged that possibility, were keeping an ear to the ground, and issuing warnings to the security forces of various nations. There was no sign of any such activity at the moment, but... if the enemy had made the right preparations, they’d effectively have no way to guard against it.

It was just like what had happened here; they were always stuck reacting. It was a fundamental problem with Mithril. Deterrence was their goal, and they called themselves invincible, but everyone in the organization knew that that was a lie. It wasn’t a problem limited to Mithril, of course; all anti-terror entities faced a similar dilemma. The initiative in a battle always lay with the attackers.

Mithril’s lone advantage was their advanced equipment and elite personnel—but that, in turn, meant their expansion was limited. A power to crush evil that was extremely potent, but rare—this was the reason the anti-terrorist mercenary organization had named itself after “mithril,” after the fictional metal from the works of J.R.R. Tolkien.

Kalinin broke out of his musings. “Ask Colonel Testarossa for instructions regarding the Venom,” he said. “I’ll leave the treatment of that man... Gauron, to you.”

“Sir,” McAllen responded.

“Keep at least two men on him at all times,” Kalinin cautioned. “Who they are is up to you. Following his physical examination, keep him under strict lock and key, and do not remove his restraints under any circumstances. Keep him completely isolated until quarantine is over. Once he’s received his bill of health, ignore any further requests for medical aid.”

“You mean, any sudden turns for the worse?” McAllen grinned. He was talking about feigned illness.

“Yes. I don’t care if he dies as a result; there’s no need to afford him any respect,” Kalinin said. “Treat him like an extremely intelligent, exceedingly savage animal.”

“Understood. Sir.” McAllen saluted, then ran back to his own M9.

The Mithril transport helicopters receded into the distance. Some were large with ASes dangling beneath; others were small, for personnel transport. They must have engaged their ECSes in flight, because they all suddenly disappeared in the morning sun. Plumes of smoke were still rising here and there around the base, and the barracks, communications center, administration building, and hangar were all riddled with holes.

Kurama crawled out from under the remains of the Dark Bushnell left on the shore. He’d determined there was no more need to stay in hiding. “Hmm...” He gazed at the last vestiges of the helicopters, a pale purple band hanging in the air, and his round nose let out a snort. There goes Gauron, he thought.

Luck would determine what happened to him next—and that man’s devil’s luck was not to be underestimated. No... perhaps the pancreatic cancer was a balancing of the books for all of the undeserved good fortune in his past. He was a dead man walking now; a man with nothing left to fear.

Kurama put the chance of the plan’s success at about 50-50. Bad odds; they both must be mad.

He pulled out a satellite communicator module, extended the antenna and swiftly manipulated the panel. Soon, he’d opened an encrypted channel.

“Yes?” came the voice on the other end. It was the languid voice of a young man; he sounded sleepy.

“It’s me.”

“Oh... Kurama? How’d it go?” There was a sound of hair being brushed back, and a faint sound of rustling cloth. He could hear a woman’s nasal moaning in the background.

“Gauron’s been taken to the Toy Box,” Kuruma said.

“Hmm... Sounds like I won the bet. Mr. Gold owes me three Leviathans and five dollars. Next time I see Gauron, I’ll have to treat him to dinner...”

This gave Kurama pause. “You think we’ll see him again?” he asked doubtfully.

“I certainly hope so,” the boy said, and then yawned. “It took me three days to create that special program, after all. And Mr. Zinc laid all that groundwork... Well, I want that rotten little sister of mine to learn a lesson.”

“Really, sir?”

“Yes. At the very least, it should get her attention,” the boy reasoned. “I’ll wait for good news, but I won’t get my hopes up... So, are you heading back now?”

“Yes.”

“Be careful, then.”

“Thank you.” The transmission concluded, Kurama closed up the transceiver and threw it into the ocean. He checked his clothing; it was your basic American military uniform. His rank was corporal, and his dogtag read J. Rock. He had an ID card, too.

A dozen or so US military helicopters were approaching from the northern skies. “Let’s see...” Which should I ride back? Kurama wondered.

27 August, 2015 Hours (Greenwich Mean Time)

Main Hangar, Tuatha de Danaan

Once all the helicopters had landed in the hangar, the ship’s hull—a.k.a., the flight hatch—slowly closed with a muffled roar.

The ASes detached from the helicopters. Then, each walked to their designated spots and knelt down. The helicopters stopped their engines, folded up their rotors, and were locked down. Deck crew and maintenance personnel ran busily around the hangar, securing machinery and disarming weapons.

Kaname stood at the hangar’s entrance, fidgeting. Combatants from the earlier battle kept passing by. They mostly looked tired, but at the same time, relieved. A few even winked to Kaname. It looks like everyone’s okay, then... she was thinking, when just then, Mao was carried past on a stretcher. She looked like she’d been wounded.

Kaname tried to call out to her in concern, but the middle-aged ship’s doctor, Peggy, who was standing next to her, said, “Don’t worry. She just took a tumble, is all.” Mao was taken to the sick bay. Kaname watched the stretcher go, turned around, and found Sousuke standing there. He must have been seeing Mao off, too.

He was safe. Relief flooded over her, but as she opened her mouth to speak, she realized it. “Sousuke?” It was clear that he was depressed about something. His face was its usual sullen one with its usual tight frown... but his eyes were scanning the floor listlessly. He had none of his usual vigor. “Um... Welcome back,” she said hesitantly.

Sousuke didn’t respond. He just sat down on a small electric tractor parked nearby and didn’t even seem to notice that Kaname was there. She had come all this way to make sure Sousuke was all right... but of course, he didn’t seem to realize that.

An alarm rang out from the submarine’s speakers, and a synthetic voice called “Dive! Dive!” The floor tilted a bit, vibrating. At some point, the hangar had come to be nearly deserted, and a hush had fallen over it.

“Y-You don’t have to get back to the duty room?” she asked.

“No,” he muttered.

“Why not?”

“I made a mistake. I can’t face my comrades,” he said coldly, before starting to remove his operator’s uniform. He took off the cast-like neck brace designed to prevent whiplash, then the thin body armor, and then unzipped the chest, which acted a bit like a biker’s coveralls. He tied the sleeves around the hips of his still-covered lower half, but on top, he was just wearing a tank top.

“Did... someone die?” Kaname asked cautiously.

“No.”

“It’s all good then, right? Mao-san didn’t seem that bad off, either...”

“Don’t trivialize it.” Sousuke raised his voice.

“I’m not... trying to trivialize it...” Kaname stammered.

“She could just as easily have died... because of me and that AS.”

“Huh?”

Eyes still averted, Sousuke began to speak, the words flowing from his lips as if a dam had burst. “I couldn’t use that device—the lambda driver—properly. ‘Pour your will into it,’ ‘imagine the shot’... none of it makes any sense to me. I’m sick of it. It’s too vague and random to serve as a weapon. It’s just like magic; they should get a shaman to pilot it, not a soldier. I...” He looked at the Arbalest parked on the other side of the hangar. “I don’t like that machine,” he went on bitterly. “I hate it. It lets its operator down at the most crucial times. It’s not a tool for a professional. Whoever made it is the worst engineer ever.”

Kaname had never seen Sousuke complain about anything like this. Fighting back her numb surprise, she clutched the hem of her apron and said, quietly, “Hey, why don’t you get some rest? You must be tired...”

“I’m not,” he said shortly.

“But, like... this isn’t like you.” Kaname genuinely believed that. This wasn’t like him. This wasn’t Sousuke at all. She didn’t know what had happened, but to say all these vicious things... Usually he was much more forward-driven; he never stooped to criticizing the people or things around him.

“What would you know about me?” he said in a harsh whisper, restraining a shout.

“Huh?” she blinked.

“You talk about what’s ‘like me,’ as if you knew. Do you realize what they’ve pushed on me? I’m a mercenary,” he went on. “I was doing fine on normal missions with normal equipment. But ever since that mission four months ago, all I get is criticism. Gauron, that AS, being your bodyguard... none of it’s what I’m cut out for. It’s all a nuisance.”

“You...” Kaname felt like she’d been smacked in the back of her head. A nuisance. Being her bodyguard was... She’d never realized that was how he felt about her. “You... You know...” she managed to squeeze out. “It’s not like I asked you to do that. You’re the one who forced his way into my life, so... so quit, if that’s what you want...”

“I can’t,” he said tiredly. “I’m the only one who can execute this mission.”

“Oh, please... Mission? You can’t...”

Sousuke looked up at Kaname. His eyes were exhausted, indifferent, hollow. “It sounds like you’re the one who’s tired.”

“I’m not tired,” she told him. “I’m worried about you, okay? But you just...”

“I know,” Sousuke said, cutting her off. “I get it, so go back to your room.”

Kaname didn’t say anything else; she just turned around and left. She passed Kurz and an East Asian soldier at the door, and without even a word of greeting, dragged herself listlessly into the hall.

Even after Kaname had left, Sousuke remained, blackly glaring at the floor. The fact that Gauron was alive. The fact that he was on board with them. The Arbalest, Mao, the lambda driver... His mind was seething with fear and regret, and he couldn’t see a way forward. He’d hit a wall. His head felt heavy.

“Sousuke.” He heard a voice. Kurz had come up to him at some point, with Corporal Yang trailing behind him.

Sousuke looked up curiously. “Kur—” Kurz’s fist slammed into his left cheek. With no way to stop a sucker punch, Sousuke tumbled off the electric trailer and crashed into the floor. It must have cut his cheek open, because he could taste blood. He grunted, and after some stirring, looked up. Kurz was clearly trying to hit Sousuke again, while Yang was doing everything he could to restrain him.

“Don’t do it, Kurz!” Yang pleaded.

“Shut up!” Kurz snarled back as they struggled against each other.

Sousuke wiped some blood from a corner of his mouth. “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked curiously.

“Sorry for eavesdropping, but I couldn’t stand another minute of your damned hero act,” Kurz told him sarcastically. “That’s all!”

“Hero act? I—”

“Shut up,” Kurz said coldly. “You couldn’t be the big man out there, so you wanna sulk like a child and take it out on a girl. You’re like a wife-beating bastard who gets his neighbors calling the cops on him every night. You get it?!”

“I’m not taking it out on anyone!” Sousuke cried, confused.

“Yeah right, asshole! You made a nice girl cry!” Kurz yelled back. “You’re a piece of shit, and the only way you’ll learn is if I beat your face in!”

“What...” Kaname was crying? When? Why? Sousuke had been so focused on his own problems that he hadn’t given any thought to her at all. I... made her cry?

Yang managed to talk Kurz down into some semblance of calm. His shoulders heaving, Kurz turned his eyes away from Sousuke. “I get why you’re on edge, okay?” he said brusquely. “Look... I’m not mad about what happened on the mission. That Arbalest is a weird AS. We all knew it might crap out on you; that’s why me and Mao and McAllen were there. But we captured the Venom and we took back the base. That means the job went well! Am I wrong?”

“But Mao—” Sousuke started.

“Are you kidding me? She goes through that shit all the time,” Kurz objected scornfully. “You’re not some damned rookie! You know that!”

Sousuke said nothing.

“You think you’re the only one fighting out there? Get your head out of your ass...” Kurz spat, then strode out of the hangar.

Yang remained behind, hands on his hips, and let out a long sigh. “Sousuke. Are you okay?”

“Yeah...” he mumbled.

“Earlier, Kurz said he wanted to tease you because you looked so depressed. I think it was his way of trying to cheer you up. But when he heard what you said to her, he just lost it...”

“I see,” Sousuke responded, and then stood up. He wiped the corner of his mouth again. The taste of blood. The pain. He knew the sensations well, yet there was something unfamiliar about them. He thought it over, and realized he’d never actually been hit like that before.

Of course, that wasn’t about to cheer him up.

28 August, 0115 Hours (Greenwich Mean Time)

Central Control Room, Tuatha de Danaan

After diving to 300 meters, they set a course north-northeast at a speed of 30 knots. There was a US Navy submarine hiding beneath the thermal layer, the veil of ocean water that cut off sound waves. Of course, they knew the de Danaan—which they called the “Toy Box”—would be in the vicinity of Berildaob Island right now. On top of that, it seemed that they’d acquired data on the de Danaan’s acoustic signature. Anti-submarine patrol planes, anti-submarine helicopters, and frigates were all on the move.

Tessa used their SCD and EMFC to skillfully slip through their blockades. It was the usual game, and they won in the usual way.

She looked at the nautical chart on her screen. According to the weather team’s report, there was a low pressure system approaching from the west, and they’d have storms up above for about a day. This was a good thing for them; it would keep the American anti-submarine helicopters at bay, and they might have to give up on tracking them entirely. If everything went well, they could be back at Merida Island Base by tomorrow night.

Tessa wanted to check in on Mao and talk things over with Sousuke, but she didn’t have time for that yet. She had to stay in the control room and be on the lookout for the smallest abnormality. She was worried about their prisoner, Gauron... Not only was he alive, but he’d appeared with a new lambda driver-mounted machine in tow.

Kalinin, who had remained behind on Berildaob Island, had radioed to tell her to watch out for him. “He’s probably planning something,” he’d added. Tessa had had a bad feeling about things ever since she had first heard the island was occupied, but this had proven even worse than she’d thought. A smell of danger seemed to waft from the first briefing room, the place where the man was being held.

Still, Sousuke and the others had done well; the fact that they had taken the Venom in without a scratch was nothing short of a miracle. Or perhaps I should say, it’s everything I expect from Sagara-san... she thought. Despite her occupation with the command of the vessel, and having not yet heard the details of the Venom’s capture, she allowed herself a private moment of heart-fluttering indulgence.

“Colonel.” Second Lieutenant Lemming, an engineering officer, entered the control room. She had been ordered to do a quick examination of the Venom, which now sat in the hold.

“What is it?” Tessa responded.

“Well, I still haven’t done a full analysis yet, but its LD seems fundamentally identical to the one in the ARX-7. Though there are a few minor differences... One thing that’s for sure is that it’s from the same line as the one in the Behemoth.”

“I see...”

“But there’s something else that concerns me,” Lieutenant Lemming went on. “That AS... they said it overheated and surrendered, but...”

“What?” Tessa asked with some alarm.

“It still seems perfectly functional. It had some armor snapped off here and there, and the ECS lenses in the shoulders took damage, but...”

Images of the AS snapping to life and running rampant in their hangar raced suddenly through Tessa’s mind. “There’s no danger of it starting up on its own, is there?” she asked.

Lemming gave her a quiet smile. “No, ma’am. We’ve unhooked its generator. No matter what its AI has been programmed to do, it can’t move without a power source. It also has a self-destruct device, but that won’t go off unless someone sets it off.”

“I’m glad to hear that, but...” In that case, why wasn’t the AS nonfunctional? More to the point... why had Gauron given up when he could have kept fighting? Did he get himself taken hostage on purpose? she wondered.

Impossible. Out of the question. The man had undergone a full body search, had been put under the strictest restraints, and was under round-the-clock surveillance from SRT staff. He’d cleared quarantine as well, so there was no chance he’d brought some virus on board. That terrorist would have no opportunities to escape or to try anything on them. And yet...

“Well, thank you for all your hard work,” Tessa finally said. “We’ll give the Venom a more thorough analysis back at base.”

“Yes, Colonel.” Lieutenant Lemming saluted her, then left the control room.

“Mardukas-san.” Tessa addressed her XO once she was gone.

“Yes, Captain?”

“I want to talk to you about something...”

28 August, 0110 Hours (Greenwich Mean Time)

US Navy Submarine Pasadena, West Pacific Ocean

It had been a while since they’d received orders from fleet command, but they came in as follows: Some time in the next twelve hours, the Toy Box might pass through your area. Run quiet; if you find it, tail it, and take in as much data as you can.

Commander Killy B. Sailor, captain of the USS Pasadena, crushed the paper they were printed on into a ball, and groaned in displeasure. “And how the hell are we supposed to find it? Dammit...” They had to search for a machine they’d lost sight of at point blank range in an area with a radius of 100 kilometers. It would be like finding a needle in a haystack.

“I’m sure command isn’t expecting that much from us,” offered his XO, Lieutenant Takenaka. Other ships of the Pacific Fleet were apparently further south, hunting for the Toy Box. The Pasadena was somewhat isolated by comparison.

“Probably not,” Commander Sailor agreed. “You know, missions like these always make me think of Nobby.”

“Who?” Lieutenant Takenaka blinked.

“Ah, when I was a kid, I led this peewee baseball team, see?”

“Oh?”

“We called ourselves the Oklahoma Sailors,” the commander reminisced. “One of the kids was this loser named Nobby. I put him in right field, batting eighth, and otherwise hung him out to dry. Any time he made an error, I pulled his pants down in front of Kathy.”

“Who’s Kathy?” Lieutenant Takenaka asked.

Sailor didn’t answer, but his gaze turned distant. “Times like these, I think about how Nobby must have felt, stuck out there in the cold of right field...”

“Did the story need to be that long?”

“What? Are you mocking my beautiful boyhood memories?”

“You mean that blathering on about your days as a bumpkinville bully?” Takenaka retorted.

“Why, you...!”

For the next three minutes, Sailor and Takenaka laid into each other. The officer of the deck finally said “that’s enough” and separated them, and the two panted for breath. After a minute of rest and five minutes of arguing, they decided to lay the sub low just under the thermal layer and wait for the Toy Box—the untrackable Toy Box—to pass.

In other words, they had a dull twelve hours of picking their noses and waiting ahead. Or so he thought...

28 August, 0431 Hours (Greenwich Mean Time)

Galley, Tuatha de Danaan

Tucked in between the new microwave and the oven, there was a space. It was dark, no more than shoulder-width wide; the perfect place for someone to crawl into her shell when she was feeling low.

Kaname was curled up in that space, wallowing in her depression. She hugged her knees, gazed gloomily at the floor, and radiated isolation. All she could think about was Sousuke. She’d feel angry, then disappointed, then sad, and then pitiful. Whenever her thoughts reached a standstill, her eyes would fill with tears. Then she’d realize how pathetic she was being and go back to anger.

Tomorrow, she thought, I’ll ask Tessa to take him off my bodyguard duty. Maybe they could get someone else to take over, or remove the requirement altogether. Whichever; it didn’t matter. He hated being around her and thought of her as a nuisance. She didn’t want to be a burden anymore; that’s all it was.

The cook, Private First Class Kasuya Hiroshi, let her have her space. Sousuke had come to the mess a few hours before to ask Kasuya if he’d seen Chidori Kaname, but he’d covered for her and said no. There was something strange about watching two Japanese men speak to each other in English.

When Kaname got tired, she dozed off. Then she woke up from her shallow dream and went back to her circling thoughts. Eventually, she got tired and fell asleep again. The cycle repeated over and over.

Finally, as if unable to watch her self-torment any longer, Kasuya spoke up. He bookmarked the book about oceanography that he’d been reading and walked up to her. “Um, hey... Kaname-chan,” he tried cautiously. “You can stay here if you want, but you should probably eat something.”

After a long pause, she croaked out, “No thanks.”

“And if you’re going to sleep, you should probably go back to the captain’s quarters,” he advised.

“Don’t want to,” she managed again. She couldn’t stand to see or talk to anyone right now.

“Don’t be like that,” Kasuya said soothingly. “A shower and a nice rest might help you feel better.”

Kaname looked up at him, emptily. “Am I a nuisance to you?”

“What? No, I wouldn’t say that...” he said with a strained smile.

She’d become a burden here, too, it seemed. With a sense of resignation, Kaname stood up and dragged herself out of the galley.

Same Timeframe, 1st Briefing Room, Tuatha de Danaan

Guard over the terrorist was being handled in snappy one-hour shifts. The de Danaan had no brig facilities, as they were rarely needed, and space was at a premium on a submarine. Therefore, on the rare occasion they ended up with a prisoner on board, they just used a currently unoccupied room. In this case, it was the first briefing room.

Private Liang of the PRT was taking his second turn on watch. He and the SRT’s Sergeant Dunnigan sat near the room’s entrance, watching over the terrorist. Watching was all the job consisted of; the terrorist in question—Liang didn’t know his name—had been placed in a straitjacket, gagged, handcuffed and chained to the chair. His prosthetic leg had been removed and was being stored in another room with his other equipment. There was no way he could possibly free himself from restraints like that.

Liang was bored, even though he was only ten minutes into a shift. His attempt at smothering a yawn earned him a glare from Sergeant Dunnigan. “Sorry.”

“You’d never make it as a sniper,” Dunnigan told him acerbically. A sniper needed discipline to hold a single position for hours at a time... Basically, he was telling Liang he lacked that discipline. Dunnigan was a big, burly man, with a round, shaved head and a thick scar over his right eye. His eyes were a pale blue. They hadn’t talked much before, but as far as Liang had seen, the man was always in a bad mood.

Liang sniffed. “Maybe not, but not even a Shanghai acrobat could slip out of those restraints. So...”

“Part of our job is to be prepared for any danger that might come,” Dunnigan told him. “Don’t forget that.”

“Danger?” Liang scoffed. “What kind of danger could there be?”

Dunnigan’s brow furrowed, and he assumed a posture of careful deliberation. He checked his watch, then responded, gazing at the terrorist. “Let’s see... How about this?” Dunnigan took a silencer out of his pocket and screwed it into the muzzle of his pistol.

Liang watched him in confusion.

“Let’s say, just for an example... What if I did this?” Dunnigan turned the gun toward Liang.

The man’s jaw dropped. “Wh-What are you doing? That’s not fair...”

“Sure, it’s fair. This is one possible danger. That’s why you can’t let your guard down.” His blue eyes stared right into Liang’s. They were serious, like a teacher offering a grave life lesson.

The gun remained trained on him. The private gulped, and nodded. “I... I’m very... sorry. Sergeant, sir.”

“Glad you get the point.” Dunnigan smiled broadly. As Liang relaxed, the sergeant, still grinning, added this. “But you learned it too late.” He pulled the trigger. Private Liang died instantly from a bullet to the brain. The shot was extremely quiet.

The chains, handcuffs, straitjacket and gag were removed, and Gauron could finally find a measure of comfort. He rubbed at his joints, stiff from their long confinement, and rolled out his neck. As his prosthetic leg was still missing, he remained seated in the chair.

“Hmm... I thought for a minute you were going to leave me out to dry,” Gauron said. He was all smiles, but Dunnigan was stone-faced.

“I can’t say I didn’t think about it, but that last mission made up my mind for me,” Dunnigan admitted. “I can’t stay here. They’re all a bunch of spoiled babies.”

“Are they?” In fact, Gauron was meeting this man for the first time. It was only recently that Mr. Zinc, their spy in the upper echelons of Mithril, had begun to take action. The man who was freeing Gauron now was one who had been won over by Mr. Zinc. Most people at Mithril were extremely content with their lot there, so finding potential traitors was a job that apparently came with great difficulty and danger. Of course, that was none of Gauron’s concern. His job was to take their submarine in unharmed—or to destroy it. “Anyway, welcome to Amalgam. Mister, ah...”

“Dunnigan. John Dunnigan.”

“A pleasure, John.” Gauron held out his right hand.

Dunnigan ignored it and said, with cold fire, “Watch your mouth, Chinese. I don’t let just anyone call me John.”

“Ah-ha...” Gauron lifted an eyebrow.

“We’re just partners in a business arrangement,” Dunnigan reminded him. “Don’t forget that.”

Gauron withdrew his hand and scratched at his temple. Then, gauging the other man’s expression, he said, “So, just to be sure... I assume you ‘don’t take orders’ from me too?”

“Yeah. I’m glad you understand, Chi—” Without even standing up out of his chair, Gauron had grabbed Dunnigan’s wrist, and before the other man could react, he twisted it and threw him off-balance. Then he spun him by the arm, turned him, pushed him down, pulled—and like magic, Dunnigan’s massive body went flying, flipped, and ended up on the ground. Dunnigan gasped in shock.

Gauron dropped onto his fallen opponent. At some point, a knife that Dunnigan had smuggled in had ended up in Gauron’s hand. “Goodness me... Was that you letting your guard down, Jooohn?” He pressed the knife to his opponent’s neck. “Incidentally, that’s jiu-jitsu—from my home country, Japan. Jooohn.”

“Why... you...” Dunnigan struggled for words and breath.

“‘Watch your mouth’? ‘I don’t take orders from you’?” Gauron scoffed. “That’s not how this works, Jooohn...” The knife’s tip began to inch into Dunnigan’s flesh.

Dunnigan hissed and began to cry out.

“You see, Jooohn... even in business, one must pay respect to his predecessors. You know that, don’t you? Jooohn?!”

Dunnigan’s body trembled with agony; sweat rose on his brow. Then at last, as if unable to bear it any longer, “F-Fine... I’m... I’m sorry...” he hissed.

“Are you, really?” Gauron wanted to know.

“I am, really. I won’t make any more trouble for you.”

“Good. Then let’s shake and make up.” With the knife held to his neck, Gauron reached out with his right hand. Still forced to the ground, Dunnigan tremblingly took it. “Now... where might my leg have ended up? We can’t do anything without the disc I hid in there...”

“I brought it with me. It’s in there.” An olive-green bag was stowed beneath the chair Dunnigan had been sitting in.

Gauron put on the uniform previously worn by the dead Private Liang, stole his submachine gun, and left the briefing room with Dunnigan. It was already late at night; the lights were dim, and there was no one to be seen.

Dunnigan led him down the corridors to a stairway to the upper deck. “The control room is up here,” he said. “It’s where you’ll find the captain.”

“Excellent.” As Gauron put his foot on the step, he heard a voice behind him.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

They turned around and saw a man standing there, his pistol already drawn.

It was an officer: a short, Caucasian man who was leaning out from behind the corner with his gun pointed squarely at them.

“Oh, hey, Captain McAllen. Let me explain—”

“Shut up, Dunnigan.” McAllen interrupted sharply. “So this was the game, eh? Good thing the major warned me about the chance of a traitor in our midst. But what I never thought it would come from our own SRT...”

With a rueful smile, Dunnigan dropped his attempt at smooth talk. He let out a chuckle and a shrug without the slightest sign of shame. “Never liked that little girl from the start,” he confessed. “Never, from the start.”

“You can explain yourself later,” Captain McAllen told him grimly. “Both of you, drop your guns.”

The corners of Gauron’s mouth curled upward. “And if we refuse?”

“You die.” McAllen was keeping his left side carefully hidden behind the corner, and he was probably a first-rate marksman. He’d kill them both in a split-second, before they could even raise their guns.

It was then that another member of the crew appeared, from around the opposite corner. It was a Southeast Asian man in a combat uniform.

“That you, Nguyen?” Captain McAllen asked cautiously.

“Captain,” Nguyen asked, “what’s going on here?”

“Just what it looks like. Dunnigan’s betrayed us; call Weber and the others,” McAllen said, his gun steady.

Nguyen took stock of everybody present, then drew a small pistol from his pocket: a 9mm with a silencer. With a silencer—

“What’s wrong with you, Nguyen?! Hurry up and—”

“Sorry, Captain.” Nguyen pointed the gun at McAllen and pulled the trigger. There were three swift shots; each released a spray of fresh blood from his chest.

Like a marionette with its strings cut, Captain McAllen collapsed onto the floor. He didn’t even have time for a scream, a curse, or an insult.

“Nice shot!” Gauron breathed. “So, would this make you my other partner-in-crime?”

Nguyen nodded. “Looks that way. I’m Nguyen Bien Bo. Do I get a bonus for that?”

Gauron laughed with a wince. “I’ll see what we can negotiate.”

“Counting on it, Gauron-san.” Nguyen made an “OK” sign with his fingers. Just then, there was a faint sound. The three men, with their finely honed senses, turned their eyes toward it at the same time.

A girl was standing just beyond the fallen McAllen. She was dressed in a way that seemed out of place on a warship—a pale green parka and yellow shorts—and her long black hair swayed in the dim light.

The girl looked down at the blood at her feet, then slowly raised her eyes to Gauron and the others. Her delicate features were clenched up with uncertainty, and her lips were trembling. She seemed to lack any idea of what was going on and any comprehension of the situation she’d walked into.

She opened her mouth wordlessly, snapping out of her daze. But before she could turn to run away, Nguyen leaped at her. There was no way that an ordinary girl, already shaken, could compete with the speed of a trained soldier. He wrapped an arm around her from behind and held a black combat knife to her chest. She let out a cry of distress.

“Scream if you like, dearie. But here’s what it’ll get you...” Nguyen put his mouth close to her ear as he pressed the knife harder against her breast through her clothes. “Lots of painful memories and a body no guy’ll ever want.”

She just barely managed to stifle herself.

“That’s the civilian the captain invited on board. Let’s finish her off,” Dunnigan said.

But Gauron shook his head gravely. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Various reasons... We just need to try to avoid killing her,” Gauron told him. “Emphasis on try.” As Nguyen walked the girl up to them, he peered into her face. She was holding her breath, her eyes filled with tears... yet she was mustering up all the courage she had to glare back at Gauron. Fortunately, that seemed to be the limit of her resistance.

“It’s been a while, Kaname-chan,” Gauron said pleasantly. “How’s everyone at school?”

It’s like a horror movie, Kaname thought. Sousuke beat this guy... this terrorist, in the mountains of North Korea. He’s supposed to be dead. Yet he had survived, and now, he was here on this submarine. Out of nowhere he’d appeared, in this place where someone like him should never be...

What is going on here? she wondered. What... Kaname racked her brains—but of course, there was no way she could figure it out on her own. The only thing she could tell for sure was that she was in trouble again, and that this time, it was especially bad.

They’re probably even better than Sousuke, something in her mind told her, vaguely and without basis. This man—Gauron, his name was—and his two highly skilled henchmen weren’t like the terrorists working with Takuma two months ago. The way they walked, the way they carried themselves, the quiet aura of death that wreathed them—these were men who reeked of violence, professionals who could kill a man as effortlessly as they took a breath. That much was clear, even to an amateur like Kaname.

The group began to travel through the deserted passageways. The bald-headed giant led the way, followed by Gauron and Kaname, with the lean knife-wielder bringing up the rear. They climbed a stairway, passed through several doors, and came out into the heart of the Tuatha de Danaan, the control room.

Tessa was sitting in the captain’s chair in the control room, reviewing the battle record from Berildaob Island. There were only nine crewmen on duty there with her; nearly half the seats of the lecture hall-like space were empty. Even her executive officer, Mardukas, was currently absent.

The crewman nearest to the door was the first one to notice the new arrivals. He was barely even on his feet before Dunnigan socked him in the nose, sending him toppling over his seat. The sound of his cry and fall drew all eyes to the entrance at once.

Tessa looked over a second later than the rest. She started in shock at what she saw: Sergeant Dunnigan of the SRT; Chidori Kaname, being dragged along by Corporal Nguyen; and... Gauron, with a submachine gun in hand. Tessa could feel all the hair on her body stand up. The sight of these four people together told her immediately what had happened, and who it was that had betrayed her.

Most of her crew began to rise from their seats, preparing to fall on Gauron and his accomplices. But before they could begin, Tessa shouted, “No!” The crew froze. “Don’t do it. That’s an order!”

They probably thought they could neutralize the intruders, even if a few of them died in the process. But Tessa knew too well what a member of the SRT could do. Sousuke, Mao, Kurz, McAllen, Yang—all were good people, but they also possessed a nearly superhuman aptitude for killing, and Dunnigan and Nguyen were no exceptions. The two of them alone could probably kill everyone here with just their bare hands—and to make things worse, they were armed.

Tessa’s rule was for her crew not to carry weapons on board unless absolutely necessary; firearms and blades were especially forbidden in the control room. She had actually broken that rule herself and smuggled in a small automatic pistol... but one gun wouldn’t save them against these three.

“There’s the judgment I expect from a captain. Know when to avoid a fight,” Gauron said languidly. Then, he turned his gun to Tessa. “Did you hear that, everyone?” he went on. “No funny business, now—and that includes sounding the alarm. Any attempt at resistance I see will bring terrible consequences for your pretty little captain. How terrible, you ask? Let’s just say ‘X-rated’—things you shouldn’t show to minors. Understand?”

The crew slowly returned to their seats, expressions grim.

“Do your worst. You won’t leave this vessel alive,” Tessa said with a note of challenge.

But Gauron’s reaction was pure delight. “Oh, she’s adorable! You know, I feel like I’ve done you two wrong somehow, tearing you from this wonderful work environment...” He looked at Dunnigan and Nguyen, but they both smiled ruefully.

“Yeah, like we care,” Dunnigan said with a snort.

“It’s not like she’d let us do anything anyway,” Nguyen agreed.

“I see,” Gauron said neutrally. “Ah... by the way, you should go join her, Kana-chan. You’re both going to be my precious hostages.” Gauron yanked Kaname by the arm to stand her next to Tessa.

“Kaname-san,” Tessa whispered urgently, “were you hurt?”

“I’m okay... But one of your soldiers... um...” Kaname stammered, face pale.

She’s probably trying to tell me that someone’s dead, Tessa realized. But who? She felt a pang in her chest, but managed to drive it from her mind for the time being.

“Now, let’s move on to the main event,” Gauron was saying. “Captain, put us on a northwest course... 3-0-0 should do it.”

“I will not,” Tessa answered.

“Oh, won’t you?” Gauron pointed his submachine gun at the closest member of the crew.

“No!” Kaname shouted.

The crew member being targeted—OOD Goddard, who held the army rank of captain—gulped, but braced himself for what was coming. “Don’t do it, Captain,” the man said to Tessa, looking straight at her.

Tessa said nothing.

“I won’t hold it against you,” the OOD went on. “Neither will anyone else. Just please—”

“Die, then,” Gauron said. But just before he pulled the trigger—

“Wait,” Tessa interrupted. She couldn’t take it; she just couldn’t.

Gauron’s finger paused. “Oh? Is that a crack in resolve I see?” The terrorist chuckled wickedly and nodded a few times, as if enjoying her capitulation.

“Turn to port,” she whispered weakly, after a desperately long pause. “Course 3-3-0.”

“Captain!” the OOD objected.

“It’s all right! A simple change of course won’t do any harm. Didn’t you hear me? Port, course 3-0-0!”

The OOD nodded weakly and repeated her order. The pilots began to steer. The de Danaan, which had been heading almost due north, slowly began to veer westward.

There’s no harm done yet, Tessa told herself. If he asked to take them past a depth their hull could withstand, or to fire any of the weapons, or to tamper with the output of the palladium reactor—if he made any dangerous requests, in other words, that’s when she’d turn him down... even if it meant he killed every person there.

Her only choice was to buy time. Soon enough—if they hadn’t already—the crew outside the control room would realize something was wrong, and then the tables would turn. The enemy probably only consisted of Gauron, Nguyen, and Dunnigan—if Mardukas and McAllen put their heads together, they could work something out. Leaving Major Kalinin on the island had proved to be a crucial mistake. She’d be so much more confident if he were on board with them now...

“Let me guess... you’re thinking you can work something out if you buy enough time?” Gauron said.

Tessa froze.

“I should probably let you know: that last little exchange was for my own personal amusement. I have a backup in place for your inevitable refusal.” Gauron chuckled again, and pulled out a floppy disk. He took a few minutes to examine the captain’s chair display and its connected computer module. This was one of the few terminals directly connected to the mother AI, Dana, which oversaw all the functions of the vessel.

It can’t be... A shiver went up Tessa’s spine as she considered the possibility.

After checking the throttle, Gauron slipped in the disk he’d brought. “Hmm... I think I need to do... this, and this... What a confusing interface,” he grumbled. “Honestly...” He used the track ball to move the cursor around the screen, and then hit a few keystrokes. “There we go.” He pressed enter and a window appeared; the terminal was reading the disk’s data right before their eyes.

Preparing COC | Remaining time 00:00:05

This was followed by another display:

Warning | Execution of COC requ dx ‰s approval of T. TeA?t rossa or operati‰i?s division Input passwoA?a?Ord or voiR?I?てD ‰i?d?μ?U?･? commaB ‰ e!!!!!!!

...............

Then her personal screen went black, as did the control room’s front screen.

“No... no...” Tessa eked out the words, her face pale. Kaname and the crew just watched her nervously; they had no idea what was happening.

But everything became crystal clear when the screen recovered, and displayed the following message:

Welcome, Captain Gauron | Orders, please | I will do anything you ask

Gauron let out a whistle and placed a hand on Tessa’s shoulder. “Well, would you look at that? Machines are fickle things, aren’t they?”

Tessa was dumbstruck. “COC” was short for “change of command.” Usually, only Tessa could change who was registered as captain. But Gauron had done it, using only a single virus-loaded disk. Only a few people in the world knew the de Danaan’s programming language, BAda... and she could think of only one capable of doing something like this. “It was him, wasn’t it?” she breathed at last. “Do you... know him?”

Gauron chuckled. “I do. He sends his regards, by the way... Although, if things go smoothly here, you’ll see him yourself soon enough.”

Suddenly, it all fell into place for Tessa. This was his twisted way of saying hello. He was working with Gauron, and Gauron was going to take her, and her submarine, and hand them both over to him.

“Now, AI-kun?” Gauron said languidly.

《Yes, Captain?》The response was delivered in a female voice with just a hint of sensuality—the voice of the mother AI, Dana. The immediate reaction suggested that she had already been implanted with Gauron’s voice print data.

“I think we should run a little evacuation drill,” Gauron decided. “Please sound the fire and reactor accident alarms. Get everyone into the main hangar!”

《Aye, sir.》

A chilling siren began to blare through the boat.