5: His Problem

22 October, 1138 Hours (East China Standard Time)

Mid-Levels, Hong Kong Special Ward (“People’s Committee” Side), Hong Kong

Ten minutes had passed since they’d been ushered into the vast, high-ceilinged meeting room. The space, positioned on the 30th floor of a high-rise apartment complex, belonged to the Mithril intelligence agent stationed here in Hong Kong—though the agent himself hadn’t arrived yet. Large windows overlooked the ocean far below, bathing the room in natural light.

The steep slope of Mt. Victoria was home to countless buildings, but even among those, this one was especially tall. It offered a clear view of the city far beyond: a clustering of structures, new and old, large and small—Sousuke had heard it described before, but seeing the density of the high-rises in person, it almost seemed unreal. Confusion, disorder, chaos—that was the only way to describe the sight.

“Weird... it still doesn’t look all that different now...” Mao said from behind him.

“You’ve been here before?” Sousuke questioned.

“A few times before the Handover,” Mao told him. “Mom had family in the neighborhood then. They’ve moved to New York since, but I crashed with them for about two months before I came to Mithril, just lazing around.”

“Lazing around?” he asked.

“It was after I got myself drummed out of the Marines. I couldn’t muster up the will to get a job, and I didn’t want to go home to New York... I knew my dad would be an ass to me,” she said, clicking her tongue. “Air Force bastard...”

Mao hadn’t spoken much to Sousuke about her past before, so he was a little surprised to hear her bring it up so freely now. “Your father was in the military?” he asked, curious to know more.

“Sure,” she said dismissively. “A bomber pilot, and a total halfwit, too. He’s retired now and works at a firm... acts like he’s hot shit, but he’s always been a stingy little miser. Always hatching some scheme or other...”

“Scheme?” Sousuke echoed curiously.

“Yeah. See, I was trying to get an honest job out of high school, but instead of letting me do that, he pulled a bunch of strings to marry me off to this spoiled rich Harvard jerk. It pissed me the hell off, so to spite him, I bailed on my wedding day to join the Marines.” Mao must have had fond memories of the occasion, because she turned her eyes down and grinned. “I snuck out of the church and hit up a recruiting station four blocks away—still in my wedding dress,” she continued to reminisce. “You should’ve seen the recruiter’s face. He’s all, ‘Are you serious?’ and I’m all, ‘Hell yes.’ Everyone at the station came to talk me out of it. ‘Ma’am, please reconsider. Think of how your parents will feel,’ they say. That’s when I mention that my dad’s Air Force, and I swear, the reply comes in perfect unison: ‘That changes everything. Sign right here!’”

Yang, listening from a few seats away, was unable to restrain his laughter.

“What do you think of a woman like that?” Mao wanted to know.

“I-It’s awesome...” Yang snickered. “Seriously, just great.” His shoulders were shaking as tears formed in his eyes, and he shot her a thumbs up.

Silly stories to pass the time combined with pre-mission jitters; the room’s silence combined with Yang’s stifled laughter—It was a strange atmosphere. The light streaming in from the windows cast Mao and Yang in clear silhouette, and though it seemed like a lighthearted scene at a glance, it was saturated by a strange melancholy.

Mao gazed off into the sky, her eyes nostalgic. “Awesome, huh? Yeah, I guess it was pretty awesome... The moment I made the decision, I felt like my world became limitless. Like I could do anything. I could go anywhere.”

“Anywhere...?” Sousuke asked, as if hearing the word for the first time.

She shrugged in response. “Yeah. I mean, life went on after that, and I had my share of setbacks and disappointments... but I’m still really glad I did what I did then. It made me love myself more... you know what I mean?”

Sousuke couldn’t quite wrap his mind around what Mao was talking about. He couldn’t understand why she’d brought it up all of a sudden, either.

“Ah, it’s just being back in the city that reminded me,” she said. “Don’t read into it or anything.”

“Mm... ah,” Sousuke answered, mildly befuddled.

It was then that the reception room door opened, granting entrance to a plump, middle-aged Caucasian man. “Hello,” he said. “Sorry for the wait.” Dabbing sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, he approached them. He had a big, friendly face, framed by pomade-slicked black hair and a goatee. Sousuke judged him to be around fifty, though he could easily have been younger.

This man is...? Sousuke and Mao exchanged a glance of disbelief. Mithril intelligence agent Gavin Hunter; the name had inspired images of stoic and square-jawed, but instead they got rotund and sweaty—something about it felt slightly anticlimactic.

Hunter’s public face was that of a well-to-do trader. He spoke Cantonese and Mandarin ably, and was friendly with both armies, enough that he could dine with their top brass most nights. He was as far as one could get from the popular image of a spy—but then, gathering information didn’t require grand James Bond-style adventuring. Offhand statements from military officials, minor items in a newspaper’s finance columns, the sight of unfamiliar ships in port—inferences could be drawn from all kinds of places, and that was the intelligence division’s bread and butter.

“I probably don’t have to tell you that both North and South are a little on-edge right now,” Hunter explained. “Even at a glance, it should be obvious how serious the situation has become. Between both armies, we’ve had three incidents of friendly fire and four incidents of firing on civilians. It’s basically a miracle that they aren’t in a shooting war yet—but that’s probably just a matter of time.”

“And if one starts?” Mao questioned.

“Then fire flies across Victoria Bay. Anything larger than a pistol is in range, after all—rifles, machine guns, bombs, rockets, ATMs... It’ll be a horror show,” Hunter told them. “An instant inferno. You’ve seen the way the city’s laid out.” The North and South Chinese Armies had been in a standoff across Victoria Bay since the split; the only thing keeping guns in holsters was the fact that neither wanted to see Hong Kong set ablaze. The recent AS terrorism, though, had begun to chip away at that resolve.

“What about the citizens?” she asked next.

“We started their evacuations a little while back. The South Chinese go to the New Territories, inland; the North Chinese go to Lantau, and the southern part of Hong Kong Island. That’s mainly women and children, of course... I sent my own family to my villa in Lantau,” Hunter said. “They’ve mutually locked down almost all travel between the North and South. No entries are allowed into port, and almost all flights into both Kai Tak and Chek Lap Kok Airports have been canceled. The stocks and foreign exchanges are a mess.” He sighed despairingly. “Heaven’s sake... they’d only just pulled off the separation, too. It’s really going to turn into Berlin at this rate.”

“But they did pull it off,” Mao whispered in vague astonishment.

At this, Hunter raised a cocky eyebrow. “That’s what it means to be Chinese. Clever and enthusiastic, with a spirit exhausting in its industriousness. Total mastery of internal thought and outward expression; yin and yang in perfect balance.”

“Er?”

“Eat Chinese food sometime, and you’ll begin to grasp the breadth of their culture and civilization,” he boasted. “The ideology Westerners have cultivated over a mere hundred years doesn’t compare. Brokers like me knew that the separation would represent both a crisis and opportunity—that some would go bankrupt, and some would get rich; just business as usual. And I’ll tell you, even with the split government and the occupying armies, the coming and going between North and South stayed relatively simple up until now. We could work anything out, as long as backs needed scratching.” He said it all with pride, as if he himself were a purebred Hongkonger—even though he was the only white person in the room.

“So, what do you know about the AS?” Mao asked, in an attempt to move things along.

“We haven’t been able to discern its whereabouts,” Hunter answered. “It last appeared three hours ago, in Shau Kei Won on the Hong Kong Island side. It took out two ASes and an armored car; four North Chinese Army soldiers dead, eight civilians badly wounded... just awful.”

“You’re sure it’s hiding in the city?” she pressed.

“We can’t say for certain, although it’s what our Hong Kong Branch analysts and their AI think,” Hunter confirmed. “It’s also what my gut tells me, but the layout of the city presents a challenge...” Then he spread out a map and launched into a technical explanation. His opinions were those of a seasoned professional who’d already done a lot of investigation, and his deep love for Hong Kong showed through in every word.

Mao knew everything about how invisibility ECSes worked, and combined with Sousuke’s occasional suggestion, she managed to tighten Hunter’s analysis even more. It was a truly productive session; both Mao’s team and Hunter’s were ground-level operatives, which meant the executive friction between intelligence and operations was irrelevant to them.

“Any more areas or situations we can rule out?” Hunter asked, while typing into his AI terminal.

“Any place that sees lots of activity from pigeons and crows and such,” Mao replied.

“Oh?” Hunter asked, sounding curious. “Why birds?”

“It turns out birds can see invisible ASes—probably because the ECS can’t block ultraviolet light—and crows in particular will circle around them, squawking and making trouble. The same goes for dogs, who are sensitive to the ozone smell released by an ECS.”

“Ah-ha... of course,” Hunter said thoughtfully. “Anything else?”

Mao glanced at Sousuke. “I think that’s about it. Sousuke?”

“Hm?” Sousuke said, as if snapping out of some reverie.

“Anything else?”

“Ah... no,” he told them. “I can’t think of anything.”

Mao could tell that Sousuke was distracted; he’d been that way since they’d left the Tuatha de Danaan.

Hunter, staring hard at the monitor, let out a hum of appreciation. “Very impressive. Forty-nine locations on the Hong Kong side, seventy-eight on the Kowloon side. We should be able to cover this in half a day if my men and yours split the work.”

“Hopefully,” Mao agreed. “If we do find them, let’s try to finish them off in one go.”

They’d decided to send their people on an investigation of every possible location that could house the enemy AS. There was no time to spare, so Mao’s men would also split into three teams for the search: Sousuke and Mao would cross Victoria Bay and head to the Kowloon Peninsula; Yang and Wu would search Hong Kong Island. The third team would be the transport helicopter that had brought them there in the first place; while staying invisible with its own ECS, it would scan all of Hong Kong from overhead with an ECCS. The device in question—an ECS detector—wasn’t very effective in urban areas, so they would mainly cover the suburbs and other outlying islands.

The vans they’d borrowed from Hunter had the large Chinese characters 狩人清潔有限公司 written on the side. It just meant “Hunter Cleaning Company,” with the word “Hunter” represented by its literal meaning rather than by phonetics—Sousuke, who had little experience with the Chinese language, found the writing strange and foreign despite its similarity to Japanese.

“That old man seems to have his fingers in a lot of pies...” Mao observed with folded arms in the building’s underground parking lot. The four of them had already changed into cleaning company uniforms, with Sousuke’s being the most ill-fitting. “Everyone have your licenses? Double-check your work permits and passes as well,” Mao ordered, “and make sure to keep your fake passport and credit card in separate pockets. Sidearms are limited to one apiece; discharging your weapon is strictly forbidden. Report in regularly, and remember that we’re under martial law, so be careful.”

“What if the army or police tries to take us into custody?” Yang asked. “There are some divisions Hunter doesn’t have friends in, right?”

“That’s right, so be careful,” Mao emphasized. “If you can do it, running is your best option. Whatever you do, don’t fire your weapon—we can’t afford to have you hitting innocent army personnel—but other than that, do what you have to. If you’re caught, it’ll be some time until Hunter can interfere, and you’ll probably be subject to severe interrogation in the meantime. If you are tortured, don’t talk. That’s all.”

“That’s harsh...” Yang muttered.

“The greater concern is being sighted by the enemy,” Mao said pointedly. “If you’re killed because you failed to stay in contact or get permission before acting, it’s not my concern. Got it?”

“Roger.”

“Okay, let’s go,” she said.

They split up into the two cleaning company vans, pulled out of the parking lot, then parted ways into the city. Yang and Wu’s van was headed for Victoria Peak, while the van Sousuke was driving spent a few minutes heading down a sharp, tree-lined slope, until it came out into Chung Wan, the district better known as ‘Central.’

Des Voeux Road was almost like a concrete ravine, flanked by ‘mountains’ of towering skyscrapers. Sousuke, who had grown up in the country, found the sight slightly overwhelming. Only one thin slice of the cloudy sky was visible.

Chung Wan was a commercial district on par with Tokyo’s Shinjuku or Marunouchi areas, but the area seemed almost abandoned at present—no people, and no car traffic. Double-decker trams rattled down the roads, but their drivers seemed to be the only ones aboard. The clang of metal against the rails echoed emptily in the air around them.

“So weird... I’ve never seen Central like this before,” Mao observed from the passenger seat, as she cast her gaze across the deserted city.

They made it to a large five-way intersection, where they could see North Chinese Army armored trucks and ASes on full alert. These were olive-colored Rk-92 Savages, the same popular export model used by North Korea. Sousuke and Mao proceeded east along the road, departing Wan Chai on their way to Causeway Bay.

The valley between buildings seemed to go on and on, with the famous neon Hong Kong signage growing more and more prevalent here. Shop names jutted out from their buildings in gaudy green and red, threatening to smother the sky above.

雅胎美容護膚中心, 展藝設計装飾公司, 福村東苑菜館, 華爾登影音器材有限公司, 新華中西薬行, 富瑶海鮮酒家, 佛如來素會, 釣藝琴行文化藝術中心—Sousuke caught characters he thought he recognized as a beauty shop, an interior decorator, a stereo company, a pharmacy, and a bar, but he didn’t read kanji well to start with, and had no idea how to read most of it in Japanese. Along with the neon, much of the signage was LED, and he even saw a few cutting-edge hologram signs—early efforts at integrating ECS technology in consumer spaces.

At last, they reached the undersea tunnel that would take them to Kowloon Peninsula, the side under control of the South Chinese Army. The entrance to the tunnel was under strict guard: four Savages, two armored cars, and over sixty heavily armed infantrymen. They’d piled up embankments here and there, which they’d topped with barbed wire and machine gun emplacements.

Just inside the tunnel was a checkpoint gate where a short line of a civilian vehicles sat, their drivers attempting to petition for passage. None of them were allowed to proceed, and in the end, each one was forced to turn and go back. In theory, Hunter had arranged Sousuke’s and Mao’s passage with the head of security here, but this sight had him worried.

“You really think they’ll let us through?” Sousuke wondered.

“If Hunter’s connections are good,” Mao answered. “They should.”

A soldier with an AKM rifle spread his arms in front of the gate and said, “Stop” in Cantonese. He came around to the driver’s side and started talking at Sousuke through the window. All Sousuke had managed to memorize in the helicopter was some day-to-day conversation, so he couldn’t understand the man at all.

“Mao, would you?” he asked.

“Ming baak laak,” she told the soldier. “Hoi coeng.”

Sousuke tilted his head.

“It means ‘Got it, open the window,’” Mao translated.

Sousuke silently did as he was told, and opened the van’s power window. Then he just watched while Mao launched into fluent Cantonese. She showed them their work credentials and passage permit, then seemed to explain the situation. Then the soldier said to Sousuke, “Hoji.”

Sousuke just looked on helplessly.

Mao tapped Sousuke on the shoulder, then pointed ahead of him. “Nei tai,” she said. “Ngo dei hoji zau laak.”

The gate in front of them opened with a rattle. Interpreting her words to mean, “Go,” Sousuke eased the van forward.

They’d successfully cleared the first gate, and now they raced down the tunnel beneath Victoria Bay. There were no cars around; it was just their van on the empty three-lane road.

“I really can’t believe it,” Mao said with awe. “This tunnel is usually packed.”

“You’re surprised by a lot today,” Sousuke observed neutrally.

“Of course I am,” she retorted. “Anyone who’d seen Hong Kong before this would be shocked.”

“Really?” he asked skeptically.

“Well, try to imagine it. How would you feel if you saw Tokyo looking like this?” Mao’s comment caught Sousuke unawares, and he felt an internal flinch. “What if Shinjuku and Ginza were divided, armies in standoff, one wrong move away from a shooting war?” she went on. “No more hip young people shopping and eating ice cream downtown—instead it’s swarming with armored cars and ASes. The bayside area, perfect for quiet walks, is mounted with pillboxes and bunkers. It’s like, I can’t believe this is the Hong Kong I know; that’s how weird it is. It’s like a world turned upside-down.”

Sousuke said nothing. For the first time ever, he felt like he really grasped the nature of “peace,” and how it applied to the city he’d lived in for the past six months. No tanks, no ASes, no police or soldiers hungry for bribes... streets bustling with cars and people, overflowing with cheerful music and laughter.

Tokyo at peace. School at peace. Classroom at peace. And—

“Sousuke?” Mao said, interrupting his thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Is something wrong?”

“No... it’s nothing.” Sousuke brushed away the face that had appeared in the back of his mind.

“Stay alert,” Mao instructed. “We’re coming up on the South side’s checkpoint.”

“Right,” he said. “I know.”

They weren’t out of the tunnel yet, but they could already see a chain-link fence blocking the way forward. This was the entrance to the Kowloon Peninsula, which was controlled by the South Chinese Army. Hunter must have also called in a favor with the commander here, because after a brief exchange, they were let right through.

“I can’t believe it was that easy,” Sousuke said.

“Definitely surprising...” Mao agreed.

The two were feeling a bit out of sorts over how easily they’d passed through both checkpoints. Security was so strict, after all; they’d been prepared to deal with a much chillier reception.

“Hunter must really be a powerful man here,” Sousuke observed.

“Definitely, if he can get both armies to accede to him that easily,” Mao said. “Of course, I’m sure his dealings aren’t totally above-board.”

“True.”

The most likely situation was that he sold black market goods to both armies. That would earn Hunter the gratitude of the army bigwigs—who hungered for money and status—while also giving him blackmail material on them. For an intelligence agent, that was two birds with one stone. Sousuke had known men like him in countless conflict regions.

“I think we’re almost there,” he said.

Their vehicle entered a street lined with modern-looking hotels, which was home to one of the locations on their list: a trading center under construction, perfect for hiding an AS. The construction had been commissioned by a Malaysian business not well known in Hong Kong, and the documentation behind it had its share of question marks.

“What happens if we hit paydirt on our first try?” Mao wondered idly.

“Nothing special,” said Sousuke humorlessly. “We should be ready for that at all times.”

They were currently passing a large park, which was surrounded on three sides by hotels and shopping centers. A South Chinese Army AS was standing watch over the park’s entrance. It was an early model M6 Bushnell, designed for export and lacking an ECS of its own. Next to it was an English-made generator truck, which was probably there to keep it powered on the cheap during the extended standby.

That generator truck... Sousuke thought. He knew why it looked so familiar; it was the same model as the one he’d stolen in Sunan, right after he’d saved her. She’d been yelling so much at him then that he couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Even with enemies raining fire on them, she wouldn’t believe a word he said.

Sagara-kun, calm down, she’d admonished him. You’re confused and hallucinating.

Sagara-kun?

That’s right, he remembered. That’s what she still called me back then. When was it that I became ‘Sousuke’ to her? I think it was—

“Sousuke?!” Mao screamed.

He gasped.

I just drove... through a red light... into an intersection!

Horns blared, and a taxi closed in on their left side. Brakes squealed and the van pitched forward, causing the bumper to scrape against the asphalt. There was a shriek, which was followed by sparks and an impact, as the taxi scraped off their bumper.

The van flew to the right, then skidded sideways, fragments flying. They came to a rest in the middle of the intersection. The taxi driver stopped, jumped out into the road, and started screaming at them. Four soldiers ran towards them from the park they’d just passed. The M6 remained where it was, but its head was turned towards them.

Mao just looked at Sousuke from the passenger’s seat, her face pale. She seemed too overwhelmed even to scream at him. “Ngh... Just leave this to me, okay? Not one word.”

“I—”

“It’s fine, just stay here!” she snapped, rushing out of the car. Mao turned to face the approaching soldiers, and called in a distressed voice, “Maa faan saai lei...” It was probably something like, “I’m sorry, we weren’t paying attention,” but the soldiers, seeming far from mollified, just pointed their rifles at her and shouted. They were probably telling her to shut up.

Days on high alert had left the soldiers’ nerves frayed to the breaking point, and they moved like men ready to kill. One of them grabbed Mao by the shoulders and forced her to the ground, then dragged Sousuke out of the driver’s side door. He noticed the taxi driver was being accosted in the same way; the man let out a pitiful cry and clung to the soldier, then pointed accusingly at Sousuke and Mao.

Mao, caught in a joint lock, was struggling to explain herself. She was employing a piteous tone to try to invite sympathy, but it didn’t seem like it was working.

It was the worst possible scenario. A lapse of judgment in combat was one thing, but a simple traffic accident caused by inattentiveness? It was an unbelievably foolish mistake, and even Sousuke was shocked that he’d let it happen. If they were taken into custody now, it would jeopardize the entire mission. He was racking his brain to figure out what to do—when in that moment, it happened: The M6, just thirty meters away, dropped to its knees with a crash.

Sousuke looked up in shock. The machine’s long, narrow head had been twisted off and was now floating in midair, sparking and trailing cables and pipes like a rokurokubi. Its squat form let out a metallic cry of pain as it struggled, flapped its limbs, and grasped at an unseen something.

Then, with a sudden roar, the massive M6 went flying. It skidded down the road and crashed into a hotel facing the park, where it sent up a cloud of concrete and shattered glass. Within the billowing dust and smoke, then, Sousuke could see arcs of crackling electricity. Afterimages of blue light revealed the telltale silhouette of an AS with invisibility mode engaged.

The soldiers gulped, their eyes immediately drawn to the sinister machine. It had an upper half like an inverted triangle, and a diamond-shaped head, and was painted with a gray and dark blue camouflage pattern. All that, plus the unmistakable red mono-eye... It was the Venom.

The Venom dropped the M6’s head—now just a severed cluster of sensors and machine guns—unceremoniously to the ground. It fell onto a Benz parked nearby, crushing the roof and windshield. Then the Venom pulled an assault rifle from its back, aimed it at the still-struggling M6’s body, and began unloading on full automatic at close range.

The M6’s arms and legs were helplessly blown off, and then it exploded. The deafening shockwave of heat and force even managed to reach the intersection where Sousuke and Mao were being held. Mao flew at the driver and tackled him to the ground. It was then that Sousuke realized he was standing stock still, and he opened his eyes wide in shock.

The commotion brought another M6 stationed nearby running; it immediately took cover by kneeling behind a hotel on the Venom’s other side, and pointed its rifle around the corner in its direction. Mao got up and this time, it was Sousuke that she tackled as the M6 opened fire.

The Venom raised its left arm, and the shots flew off in all directions without even making contact. That invisible wall again... Sousuke thought. The ricochets peppered the nearby buildings and signs, spreading the destruction.

“Gau meng ah!” came the cries around him.

He couldn’t even move. In the roaring exchange of gunfire, Sousuke could hear soldiers screaming; fragments rained down everywhere.

Offhandedly, the Venom shot the new M6’s rifle out of its hand, then tore down the road in Sousuke’s general direction. Someone let out a cry of despair as the gray machine dashed across the ground, coming closer and closer. Then, with an explosive bound and a pulverizing of asphalt, it was gone.

With silent effort, Sousuke waved away the dust around him and looked up. The Venom had landed on the roof of a nearby building twenty floors high. It must have gone all that way in the blink of an eye with the aid of a wire gun; if so, then it had jumping power to rival that of an M9.

The machine’s red mono-eye paid Sousuke and Mao no attention. Its gaze was more distant, perhaps checking the reaction of the South Chinese Army.

After surveying the surrounding area, the Venom whipped around and activated its ECS, disappearing past the rooftop as it faded from sight. That was the end of the battle.

Smoke rose from the intersection. One soldier, arm injured from a flying piece of shrapnel, was wailing loudly. Another was checking the wound, and speaking rapidly about nothing in particular. The most veteran-looking of the four was yelling something into a walkie-talkie, while the remaining soldier just stood in the middle of the intersection, staring blankly.

The South Chinese Army soldiers seemed to have lost interest in Mao. She called out to one, and he gave a quick response before running in a panic towards the burning M6. She then said something to the taxi driver, and jerked her thumb back at the van with Hunter’s company name written on it. The driver looked a bit disgruntled about it, but Mao said something else, and at last he returned to his vehicle with an air of acceptance.

Mao approached Sousuke and whispered into his ear: “Let’s go.”

“Will they let us?” he whispered back.

“The guy said, ‘If you hadn’t gotten into that accident, we probably would’ve been crushed when it grabbed the M6. So we’ll overlook it.’” Mao climbed swiftly into the now bumperless van—and into the driver’s seat, naturally. Sousuke was in no position to argue, and slid obediently into the passenger’s seat.

The collision at the intersection and the appearance of the Venom—the quick succession of completely unanticipated incidents had left Sousuke in a mild state of shock. It had shaken him as badly as his separation from Kaname, or his loss to Clouseau.

What in the world is wrong with me? he wondered. If the Venom hadn’t shown up just then, we would have been taken into the army’s custody, and things would only have gotten worse from there. What’s going on? It’s like everything’s coming out of nowhere... Why does reality feel so out of my control? A feeling of powerlessness spread through Sousuke’s limbs and chewed away at his heart, numbing him all over. It was like nothing made sense anymore.

Mao spoke as she started up the engine again. “You shot through a red light. You could have killed us.”

“Sorry.”

“Were you thinking about her?” Mao asked.

When Sousuke failed to respond, Mao suddenly grabbed his collar and pulled him in. “You need to forget about her for now,” she demanded. “If you can’t, you need to get out of this van. I understand how you feel, but... even a nice ‘big sister’ like me has her limits, okay? I’m not going to get killed because of you. If you can’t get it together, I’ll be safer alone!” Mao’s words were only natural; she wouldn’t be able to lay into him like this if she didn’t respect him as an equal. A show of sympathy here and now would be wrong, both as a friend and as a colleague.

But as reasonable as her words were, in his current frame of mind, Sousuke just couldn’t deal with them. At length, he said, “You’re right,” then grabbed the bag containing his radio and equipment, and opened the door.

“Sousuke?” she asked incredulously.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I just... can’t do this anymore.”

“Hey...”

“Continue the mission,” he told Mao, cutting her off. Then he got out of the car and began to walk alone down the street, which was littered with building material and brick. Of course, he didn’t know where he was going—Mao was shouting something at him from behind, but he wasn’t even listening. He didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything. Not about his Mithril mission, not about the Venom, not about the Arbalest or Al, nor about the fate of this city.

22 October, 1553 Hours (Chinese East Standard Time)

Sheung Wan, Special Ward, Hong Kong Island

In the three hours since they’d parted ways with Mao and Sousuke, Corporal Yang and Private Wu had checked out eleven possible hideout locations, but not one had borne fruit. At this particular moment, Yang was sluggishly steering their van around a high-rise apartment district in a corner of Sheung Wan. Built on the slope of Mt. Victoria, it was an area full of steep hills and sharp curves.

“I wish I could just gun it,” Yang grumbled. Roads like these got his blood racing; they reminded him of his days living outside of Daegu, where he’d spent his evenings slingshotting around the mountain passes. It got him to thinking, How’d I end up playing mercenary in a place like this? to which his mind responded, Because I was broke.

As the third son of the owner of a tiny auto repair shop, Yang was in no financial position to consider a racing career. And in some ironic twist of fate, he’d turned out to have more talent as a soldier than a driver. He was grudgingly conscripted into the army, and while grudgingly undergoing training, he’d caught the eye of an officer at the base, who then strong-armed him into their airborne forces. Then, in some kind of mistake, he’d been deployed into a conflict still treated as top secret even in his home country... and he’d been wandering aimlessly ever since. That’s how he’d ended up here, in this place, driving a van at a snail’s pace.

“No gunning it, Corporal,” Wu assured him from the passenger seat. “We need to be careful. One slip-up and we won’t have to wait for the enemy to kill us—the master sergeant will do it for them.”

“I know that,” Yang grumped. “Okay, we’re here. This is the place.” He parked the van in front of a high-rise apartment building, which was under construction. It had been financed by a foreign firm whose credentials weren’t widely known, and came with an underground parking lot just large enough to fit an AS.

“Uruz-9 to all teams,” Wu radioed in. “We’re about to investigate point 28. If there’s no contact in 15 minutes, move in.”

“Uruz-2, roger that.” Mao’s voice came across coldly on the radio. For some reason, there was no response from Sousuke. He’d heard the Venom had appeared on the Kowloon Peninsula—had they run into some trouble?

“HQ, roger. Take care.” This was Hunter’s voice.

“Here we go,” said Yang. “Keep your guard up, Wu.”

“Yeah, yeah...” They both got out of the van and began to approach the building. According to Hunter’s information, construction on the apartment had stopped three days ago. The reason given was a ‘labor dispute,’ but there were no details other than that.

Passing through the bamboo scaffolds and netting, Yang and Wu proceeded into the dark interior, where they pulled out their automatic pistols. They moved down the steps cautiously, being careful not to make a sound; even their pistols had silencers attached.

They couldn’t sense anyone’s presence. There was no door yet on the entrance to the garage, so Yang listened carefully at the empty frame, then signaled to Wu with his eyes and his hand.

They stepped silently into the underground garage. It was a vast concrete space—no cars, just mounds of construction equipment.

“It’s a dud,” Wu reported. “This makes eight—”

“Hush!” Yang had just noticed a leg peeking out from behind a cement bag, one of many piled up haphazardly in a corner of the garage. There was a person on the ground there. Wu noticed it too, and went silent. The two men approached, keeping alert in all directions.

What they found turned out to be a man’s dead body. He was in his 40s, dressed in a dingy jumpsuit, and he’d been shot through the head.

“Ugh... A worker here, you think?” Wu asked, turning away from the corpse.

“Yeah. Maybe he left something on the site, came back, saw something and got shot... Poor guy. Looks like he’s been dead about two days,” Yang said, calmly searching around the corpse. He opened the mouth with his bare hand and poked around the maggot-swarmed cavity. There didn’t seem to be an explosive planted in it.

“You can pinpoint the time, even?” Wu said, in tones of great admiration. “That’s impressive.”

“Rigor mortis is past and decomp has started,” Yang explained briefly. “Other factors are the dryness of the mucous membranes and the eyes, and the color of postmortem lividity. We won’t know the exact time of death without an autopsy, though.”

“Ah-ha... So you think this is their base?” Wu reasoned.

“I don’t know. But if they were using this as a hideout, they’ll have abandoned it by now,” Yang told him. “Our greater concern should be any ‘gifts’ they’ve left behind.”

“Gifts?”

“Traps,” Yang clarified for his partner. “Bombs to act as alarms.”

Wu looked around, feeling suddenly unnerved.

“We’ll be okay. But don’t touch anything other than what I touch,” Yang ordered. “Understand?”

“Roger that,” Wu said. “But... boy, Corporal, you really are SRT.”

Yang looked at him questioningly.

“Nothing. But hey, look at his chest...”

“Yeah.” Yang had noticed it, too; there was an unnatural-looking stain of some kind on the T-shirt visible beneath the man’s coveralls. At first he’d thought it was agglutinated blood that had become discolored, but that didn’t appear to be the case. While on the alert for traps, Yang carefully lowered the zipper. It wasn’t a stain. Someone had written something there with a black magic marker. The words were in English, and read:

To the cub of the Tiger of Badakhshan. Meet with the Hamdullah of Tsim Sha Tsui.

“You understand what that means?” Wu asked.

“Nope. Not a clue.” Yang shrugged, and turned on his radio.

22 October, 1614 Hours (East China Standard Time)

Tuatha de Danaan, South China Sea

The surface above them was a mess.

Because nothing was being allowed into port, there were tons of cargo ships waiting on Hong Kong’s doorstep, all stuck in a deadlock. The unprecedented traffic had left the sonar shack and target movement analysis system busier than they’d ever been.

Tessa knew that even rising to periscope depth could cause a collision, so she kept her vessel moving low and slow, like a whale dancing along the seafloor, one eye always on the surrounding terrain as mapped out by their high-frequency sonar. The slow progress was fraying the crew’s nerves, but with the South Chinese Army on patrol, it was better than being discovered.

《Captain. Intelligence message from the intelligence division,》 said the boat’s AI, Dana. The antenna of a surfaced ‘turtle’ had picked up the communique. Tessa yielded control to Mardukas, called Major Kalinin to the bridge via the internal phone line, then scanned quickly through the information provided:

Things had taken a turn for the worse. The North Chinese Army was starting to believe that the South was masterminding the Venom’s reign of destruction, dismissing the damage inflicted in the South’s territory as some kind of false flag. Chief Yang Xiaokun, with the Peking Government (the People’s Liberation Committee), said, “If the actors of the Cantonese puppet state continue with these provocations, we will be forced to protect the interests of the Chinese people.” Mithril’s spy satellite tracking of the movements of the North Chinese Army suggested that it wasn’t a bluff.

Secretary-General Zoeng Gou-lau of the Canton government (the Chinese Democratic Union) had also appeared before Western media to criticize the North’s statement. “Peking is attempting to exploit this disaster to seize control of the Three Gorges Dam. We, as representatives of the people, will not yield to threats from the North,” he’d said. South Chinese squadrons had gone on high alert all over the country.

The North had offered a time limit: 2200 hours today. If, by then, things in Hong Kong weren’t resolved—or if the South didn’t make some show of good faith—they could not be held responsible for their actions. In other words, the civil war was about to reignite. Countless people would die, swallowed up by the flames of conflict.

Tessa looked at her watch. It was 1631 hours—just five and a half hours to go. “This is a disaster,” she muttered. “It’s too soon...”

Yes, it was too soon. Even eight hours would be enough for them to find and finish the Venom, surely—That was what Mao and the intelligence division had assumed they would have when they’d formulated their reconnaissance plan.

What were Mithril’s top brass thinking? Why weren’t they using every connection they had to convince both armies to stand down? There was nothing her squad alone could do. Did they really intend to leave everything up to a sixteen-year-old commander and her team of two hundred?

“Put me through to operations HQ,” she commanded. “Channel G3.”

《There is a slight chance of channel G3 being intercepted,》 Dana warned.

“I don’t care,” Tessa replied tersely. “Hurry.”

《Aye, ma’am. There is also an incoming message on channel G1. It’s from Uruz-2.》

This time, it was a direct message from Hong Kong. She’d never felt so busy before. “Put it through.”

《Yes, ma’am.》

It was a report from Mao, in Hong Kong. Apparently Corporal Yang had discovered a corpse with a strange message attached. The intelligence division’s recon teams had found the same message in two other locations, as well; these ones didn’t come with corpses, but were just scrawled on the wall or the floor. Additionally, they’d found the same words printed in three local newspapers in classified ads.

“The cub of the Tiger of Badakhshan?” Tessa scowled as she heard the message.

“What could it mean? It doesn’t... sound like a distraction tactic,” Mardukas said.

Tessa had heard that name, “Badakhshan.” It had been about four months ago, but there were two people in her orbit with deep connections to that place. The ship’s AI, Dana, analyzed the message, but all of their known decryption systems turned up dry. Badakhshan was a place in northeast Afghanistan. Tsim Sha Tsui was a city center in Kowloon. Hamdullah was an extremely common Arabic name. They’d searched for Hamdullahs in Hong Kong, and found about four matches. She’d given orders for the intelligence division to investigate each of them.

Just then, Kalinin came in from the hangar. “Reporting in,” he said shortly.

“Perfect timing, Major. Look at this.” Tessa put the message on the screen, and his scowl grew a notch deeper. “Kalinin-san,” she said. “Does it register with you?”

“Some of it,” he acknowledged after a pause. “The Tiger of Badakhshan was a sobriquet of a certain legendary commander of Afghani guerrillas.”

“Afghani guerrillas?” Tessa questioned.

“Yes,” Kalinin confirmed. “I went at it with him several times, myself. At the time, the USSR sent multiple assassins to eliminate him; one was even an eight-year-old child. But all their attempts failed. He was a compassionate man, and he kept the young assassin and gave him a new name. The name was...” Kalinin fell silent for a moment, and then said, “Kashim.”

Tessa held silent for a moment. “Kashim...” She had first heard that name from the Arbalest’s mission recorder during the seajacking two months ago.

“Colonel,” Kalinin continued. “Could you put me through to Sergeant Sagara?”

“Of course...” Tessa replied. “TDD-HQ to Uruz-2. Please put Uruz-7 on.”

“Uruz-2 here. Um...” Mao hesitated through the static.

“What is it?” Tessa asked.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Mao apologized. “Uruz-7... isn’t with me.”

22 October, 1708 Hours (East China Standard Time)

Jordan, Kowloon Special Ward (“Democratic Union” Side)

Scrap paper tumbled by on the breeze.

It’s a strange place, Sousuke thought. So many signs, so many storefronts... Like everywhere else he’d been today, it was likely a madhouse of cars and shoppers when all was well. But right now, it was like a ghost town.

Sousuke had no idea where he was going next. He couldn’t muster the energy for anything. If his body was an AS, he’d give it up for someone else to pilot. He found his own existence as repellent as the white machine, right now.

He’d abandoned his mission. Mithril would never trust him again. The thought of facing his comrades’ disappointment and scorn gave him a leaden feeling in his stomach. Even if he was the only one who could pilot the Arbalest, he couldn’t imagine anyone counting on him again.

He thought for a moment about returning to Tokyo, but he was no longer a student at that school. He didn’t even have an apartment. His mission to protect Chidori Kaname was over. And... he couldn’t make a living there. There were no battles to fight, and fighting was the one thing he was good at. It was the only thing he knew.

He could go north from this city, into Mainland China. He could use the money he had to head north or west, until he arrived in some conflict zone or another. He’d served as a mercenary many times before. He’d go back to the life he’d had before joining Mithril—He’d fight, untroubled by morality or principles, and eventually die doing it. That was sounding like a pretty appealing plan right now.

What did the others he’d known do when they reached this psychological state? The mercenaries he’d known before Mithril frequently drank. They’d guzzle down alcohol, make noise, pick fights, and puke their guts out. It had never looked particularly enjoyable, but it did seem to take their minds off of things. That was what alcohol was for, wasn’t it?

“Alcohol, huh...” Sousuke mumbled to himself. Then he thought, Maybe I’ll try it. The old soldier Yaqub had taught him that drinking was a fool’s game. But right now, he didn’t care. Yaqub was dead, anyway.

The 7-Eleven was open. Feeling slightly impressed by their dedication, he entered. The shelves were nearly empty; the stock had likely been bought up by the locals in the chaos.

Sousuke grabbed a bottle of Jack Daniels and an English-language newspaper before heading towards the register. He paid with a 500 dollar bill, which earned him a raised eyebrow from the woman at the counter, but she quickly handed him his change.

He walked to a small park a block away and removed the stopper for the whiskey. Then, without hesitation, he took a swig. His reward was a burning in the back of the throat, and Sousuke quickly found himself coughing and retching. What an awful taste, he thought. How do people just guzzle this stuff down? Yaqub was right all along... He tossed the bottle into a rubbish bin and opened the newspaper.

The newspaper’s articles were all about the Venom incident—though of course, the codename “Venom” wasn’t known. There was information and speculation about the mystery AS, and loads of opinions from various military specialists. The fear of the citizens, the congestion of the evacuation routes, the effects on the economy—everything it described sounded tragic and dire.

Then his eyes fell on a small classified ad: “To the cub of the Tiger of Badakhshan. Meet with the Hamdullah of Tsim Sha Tsui.” In an instant, Sousuke knew that the message was for him, and that he was probably the only person in the world who could know what it meant.

It was a roughly ten-minute walk from Jordan to the Tsim Sha Tsui area. Sousuke was feeling a little lightheaded; his peripheral vision was growing fuzzy. That one gulp seemed to have done its job.

Upon reaching the Tsim Sha Tsui area, Sousuke looked around. He found a tourist camera shop, the only store around that was still open, and asked some questions of the workers there.

“There’s a complex of Arab-owned businesses in the neighborhood,” the employee answered him in fluent English. Sousuke offered his thanks and headed for the building in question.

A group of young men with dark skin and beards were loitering around the small entrance. They stared closely at Sousuke, but didn’t try to talk to him. The multi-purpose building was almost like a bazaar, packed tight with small shops.

It was also noisy; in stark contrast to the deserted main avenue, this building was swarming with consumers. Booths jutted into the already narrow corridor, selling clothing, food, electronics, and videos. He could hear some hit song playing over the speakers, as well as loud haggling, and bored men making small talk. The building seemed to exist in its own bubble, unaffected by the Venom’s threat.

Naturally, the men coming and going through the passageways were all Arabs, probably laborers who had traveled a long way to make a living. The most common were Iranian, but he saw quite a few dark-skinned men from Africa, as well.

“Is there an Afghani electronics seller here? Or Tajik, maybe,” Sousuke asked in Afghani-accented Persian of a bored-looking Iranian in a T-shirt. He was surprised by how rusty his pronunciation had gotten.

The man didn’t respond. He just stared at Sousuke, slack-jawed. Sousuke repeated the question, but the man still didn’t respond. He gave up and asked the owner of the CD shop next door.

“Turn right at the third corner there,” the man instructed. “You’ll see his shop sign in the back.” Rather than bothering to push his own wares, the man just pointed to a narrow passage. Then he grinned a toothless grin, and said, “Nothing personal, but when you’re finished, you should probably make yourself scarce. In these parts, you look like a pretty little girl.”

“I know,” Sousuke said indifferently. Most of the people he’d passed on the way here had looked at him in a... meaningful way. It stood to reason; he was a sixteen-year-old East Asian with a clean complexion, no facial hair, and no body odor. Back in the day, when he’d gone on joint operations with other guerrilla groups, they’d subjected him to certain “friendly” attentions. He’d been nearly assaulted in his sleep a few times, too.

Sousuke found the store he was after immediately. The old neon sign in the front declared that it was an electronics store.

To the cub of the Tiger of Badakhshan. Meet with the Hamdullah of Tsim Sha Tsui. It was a very simple code, as far as Sousuke was concerned.

The Tiger of Badakhshan—this was another name for Majeed, the storied leader of an Afghani guerrilla force. He was a master tactician in mountainous terrain, a poet, and a scholar of architecture. Through the early 90s, his guerrilla squad had been invincible, but that had all changed when the Soviets got serious about using AS squads in Afghanistan. Unlike previous ground weapons, the humanoid ASes weren’t stymied by the treacherous mountain environments, so there was basically no way for flesh-and-blood guerrillas to oppose them. Majeed’s men had fought the good fight, but within a few years they were crushed and broken, their resistance all but extinguished. Majeed himself had gone missing after that. Not even Sousuke knew if he was dead or alive.

Until three years ago, Sousuke had been one of those guerrillas. Back when things had still been going well, Majeed had even given him his name, “Kashim.” Then he’d left Kashim with the trusted old soldier, Yaqub, to learn battle tactics and mercy in combat. This meant that the “cub of the Tiger of Badakhshan” referred to Sousuke himself. Majeed had had several other sons, but the following sentence was what seemed to single Sousuke out.

Hamdullah was one of Sousuke’s dead comrades. He’d run an electronics shop in Kabul, but had joined the guerrillas after losing his business in the civil war. He was the one who had repaired that first disabled enemy AS and rigged it up for Sousuke to use. Major Kalinin had also had some interaction with Hamdullah, but he probably didn’t know his name and occupation, so he wouldn’t be able to decode the message, either. The only ones who knew Hamdullah well were Sousuke and the now-dead guerrillas.

Thus, the message likely meant: “Sagara Sousuke, find an Afghani electronics shop owner in Tsim Sha Tsui.” That was the only thing he could think of. But who’d sent it? A survivor from his old team? No, it wouldn’t be that—He had seen their bodies with his own eyes. A friend or relative of one of them, then? It was possible. But then, how would they know that he would be here, in Hong Kong? Could they be involved in the Venom incident, somehow?

Was this a friendly gesture, or a trap? Sousuke had no way of knowing, but he couldn’t just ignore the message. That was why he had come here.

The electronics shop was at the end of a dark corridor, and there was no sign of anyone there. Sousuke readied himself to draw his pistol from beneath his jumpsuit at any time, and checked to make sure he wasn’t being watched. The concern came out of pure habit, but he realized immediately how foolish he was being. Right now, he didn’t have a mission. No one would care if he died.

He peeked into the shop. An old man was sitting in the back; he didn’t look familiar. Sousuke approached and was about to address him, but the old man spoke first. “Are you Majeed’s son, Kashim?”

“Yes,” Sousuke answered simply.

“You’ve got booze on your breath... you stupid little brat. Have you no respect for the name of the Tiger of Badakhshan?” the old man demanded to know.

“Like I care,” Sousuke replied dismissively. Then he asked, “What do you want?”

Clearly displeased with his behavior, the old man offered Sousuke a small, folded scrap of paper with his left hand. “I was asked to give this to you.”

“By whom?” Sousuke asked suspiciously.

“A Hongkonger. That’s all I know,” the old man told him. “Take it and get out of my sight.”

Sousuke took the paper, thanked the man, and left. He unfolded it to find a part of a tourist map of Hong Kong. A red circle was drawn around a fountain in Kowloon Park, a few hundred meters from his current location.

22 October, 1809 Hours (East China Standard Time)

Tuatha de Danaan, South China Sea

To speed things up, Tessa’s interaction with operations headquarters was conducted over a G-channel in real time. The situation had somehow gotten worse.

“We no longer have time to conduct an investigation. Cancel the ambush plan,” Admiral Borda’s voice said from over the radio. There was a strained quality to it. “Deploy all of the TDD-1’s M9s. The next time the Venom appears, use an all-out attack to stop it. Usage of the Arbalest is forbidden, though—We don’t want to put that machine in danger.”

“W-Wait a minute,” Tessa argued, leaning forward in her captain’s chair. “My people haven’t worked out a foolproof set of Venom counter-tactics. A deployment now would put them in grave danger. Please, just get us another two hours.”

“I can’t,” Admiral Borda told her. “Lord Mallory is behind this decision, as well.”

“But—”

“Tensions between the North and South have reached a breaking point,” he interrupted. “Every appearance by the Venom adds to the death toll, and we can’t allow it to cause any more harm. Would you prefer us to sit back and wait while more people die?” The stark cruelty of the admiral’s words took the wind out of Tessa’s argument.

“I’ve heard that the Venom’s weakness is its operation time,” he continued. “You’ll have to count on that, and trust your subordinates. They’re elites for a reason, after all.”

This was nothing like their ordinary missions. She could be sending those men on a suicide mission. They had known that when they gave the order.

Tessa fell silent.

“Is it hard to face, Teletha?” Admiral Borda questioned. “But I told you that you were walking a treacherous path. You chose to stay in that seat anyway. Am I wrong?”

“No,” she admitted after a moment. “You are exactly correct.”

“Right. Then carry out your mission, Colonel Teletha Testarossa,” the admiral commanded.

“Roger.” Tessa ended the transmission and removed her headset. With eyes still on the floor, she said to Mardukas, “Take us to periscope depth. We’ll send all M9s on standby out through the water. Also, prepare an emergency deployment booster for the ARX-7. Give it a Boxer shotcannon and have it waiting in the elevator.”

“Captain,” Mardukas objected. “I believe he forbade the use of the Arbalest?”

“It can serve as a decoy, at least. I want to reduce the danger to the M9s as much as possible. And... Sagara-san might still...” she whispered.

Mardukas let out a small noise of dismay. “If I may, Captain. Sagara has clearly gone AWOL. It is a mistake to put your faith in him and his AS.”

“You don’t know that,” she said weakly.

“This is not some school club,” Mardukas told her bluntly.

“I am aware of that,” she said, her voice beginning to rise. “Kindly spare me your lectures, after everything we’ve been through.”

The voices of the captain and the executive officer were loud enough to be heard throughout the control room, and the crew stared at them in open shock. Mardukas hesitated for a second upon realizing this, then made up his mind, and continued his admonishment. “No, this time I will not be silenced,” he told Tessa flatly. “You are letting personal emotions compromise your execution of our superiors’ orders. What of hierarchy and military law? You cannot give preferential treatment to one NCO who’s abandoned his mission! It’s absurd!” His tone was severe enough to make even a veteran officer cringe, yet even then, Tessa didn’t back down.

“Very well,” she retorted. “But who was it who burdened that NCO with that unspeakable responsibility?”

“It was—”

“It was us, wasn’t it?” Tessa demanded. “By all means, tell me if I’m wrong!!”

Mardukas had no reply.

“Six months ago, in that airport full of enemies, who was it who risked his life to bring us that invaluable information?” she continued. “Four months ago, who was it who brought down an enemy unit an order of magnitude more dangerous than the Venom? Two months ago, who was it who nearly died protecting this vessel?”

“I—” Mardukas tried to interject.

“Well?” she demanded again, cutting him off mid-sentence. “Who was it?!”

Silence fell over the control room. Mardukas was struck dumb for a few seconds. Then he sighed and said, “Sergeant Sagara.”

“Precisely,” Tessa said coldly. “Yet you still feel obliged to criticize him? You still want to declare him a coward?”

“No,” he admitted at last.

“I’ll acknowledge it, if you want; I am fond of him,” Tessa went on. “But this has nothing to do with those feelings. I’ll swear it to you, if you’d like. He will return to us. He’s incapable of abandoning us. Even if he’s struggling with it now, a person’s nature doesn’t change. And his nature is... strong, and kind.”

“Strong and kind?” Mardukas asked after a lengthy silence. “Captain. Do you really expect that to convince me?”

“It’s not about convincing you,” Tessa retorted. “It’s about having your trust. After everything I’ve done leading up to today... make your decision! Do you trust me, or not?”

The XO turned his back on the captain, and removed his hat. He looked down at the item—a memento given to him a long time ago—and traced the stitching with his thumb. “You’ve grown stronger,” Richard Mardukas said, as if to himself. “Very well. I’ll have the Arbalest on standby.”

“Thank you. I simply want... everyone to come back safely.” Tessa said, her eyes pointed downward.

For some reason, the argument between Tessa and Mardukas had been broadcast sub-wide on an open channel, and the operators of the waiting M9s had been among those listening in.

“You guys get all that? And the channel opened on its own... you think someone wanted us to hear it?” Kurz said on a secure channel to the other four operators.

“I have... no idea,” Lieutenant Clouseau responded.

“The major?” Kurz guessed.

“Maybe.”

“But he really went AWOL? Sagara? I can’t believe it,” said Uruz-8, Corporal Speck.

“That’s what the lieutenant colonel said,” Kurz put in, “but that doesn’t mean you should believe it.”

“Lieutenant Clouseau, do you know anything about it?” Speck asked.

“I was given the gist, but it’s not enough to draw any conclusions,” Clouseau told them neutrally. “Major Kalinin shares my opinion. Either way, we should make our plans assuming we won’t have Sagara or the Arbalest.”

“What do you think, Roger?” Kurz asked.

Roger Sandraptor was silent before speaking. “I don’t know what’s inside Sagara’s heart. But what the colonel said seems logical to me—A hawk remains a hawk all its life.”

“A hawk, eh?”

After giving their thoughts, the men of the SRT went back to their checklists.

“But to see Tessa laying into her XO like that...” Kurz mused.

“She likes Sagara, right?” Speck said. “They’re the same age and all.”

“It’s probably more than that,” Kurz muttered in annoyance. “She said ‘I want everyone to come back safely.’ What do you think of that, boys?”

“That’s the plan, as far as I’m concerned,” said Clouseau.

“I have no intention of bringing sorrow to our princess,” said Uruz-3, Lieutenant Castello.

“I can’t believe she’s that worried about us. Not sure what to say... I’m honestly touched?” said Corporal Speck.

“She’s a good officer,” said Uruz-5, Sergeant Sandraptor.

They all sank into thought. Despite what had happened with Dunnigan and Nguyen, Tessa continued to trust them implicitly, which inspired both gratitude and skepticism in the men.

Just then, over the main line, the deploy order came through to the machines.

“Uruz-1 to all units. You heard that?” Clouseau asked over the channel. “We’ll meet up with Uruz-2 on-site and go on standby immediately. Major Kalinin will command from above. If you’re professionals, you can do this. I won’t make any mistakes. Neither will you. We’re going to execute this perfectly. Got that?”

“Roger.”

22 October, 1824 Hours (East China Standard Time)

Mithril Intelligence Hong Kong Branch, Hong Kong Special Region (“People’s Committee” Side)

Hunter was receiving the same change-of-plan orders from Intelligence Division Chief Amit. “So we’re out of time, eh?” he concluded.

“That’s right,” Amit agreed. “Leave the rest to operations.”

“Roger that.”

“Thank you.”

The minute Amit disappeared from the screen, Hunter cursed loudly. “Dammit!” He’d only just received a request from Melissa Mao’s superior, diverted a few of his valuable personnel to the task, and was on the verge of catching the enemy with their pants down. If the armies could have held off for just two more hours, Mithril could have resolved everything with minimal conflict.

“Sir,” his Hong Kong secretary said as he entered the office. When Hunter didn’t respond, he prompted him again. “Excuse me? President Hunter?”

“What is it?” Hunter asked tersely.

“You have a pair of visitors,” the secretary explained apologetically. “They’ve been here for a while, and they’re apparently in quite a hurry to see you...”

“Turn them away,” Hunter decided. “I’m in a very bad mood right now, and I don’t care how rude they might find it.”

“Y-Yes, sir...” The secretary bowed, and was just about to withdraw when two people barged past him into his office. One was an old acquaintance from the intelligence division, and the other was an East Asian girl he’d never seen before.

“Hey, old man! How the hell long were you gonna keep us waiting?!” the girl shouted, bearing down on Hunter.

22 October, 1708 Hours (East China Standard Time)

Kowloon Park, Kowloon Peninsula Special Ward (“Democratic Union” Side)

Sousuke walked through the empty park, the tourist map in one hand.

Kowloon Park was an island of green in a concrete jungle; it seemed to be to Kowloon what Central Park was to Shinjuku. The place marked on the map turned out to be a dry fountain. Sousuke plopped down carelessly on a nearby bench. He couldn’t bring himself to go through his usual perimeter checks. If someone wanted to kill him, let them do it—it would honestly make things easier on him.

The streetlamps illuminated the area well, and he could see a line of tall buildings in the distance. There were at least five perfect sniper positions in the area, by his reckoning.

Five minutes passed. No one came. Suddenly, Sousuke heard the ringing of a phone coming from a nearby trash can. He approached and looked inside. The ringing phone was wrapped up in a snack bag; he pulled it out and pressed the answer button.

“Sagara Sousuke?” an unfamiliar male voice asked.

“Yes.”

“Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

“There’s a taxi waiting at the north entrance to the park,” the unknown speaker told him. “Take that phone and get in.” That was all—the phone call cut off.

Sousuke stood up sluggishly and left the park, heading for the north entrance, where he found a taxi waiting in front of a convenience store. It was the only car there; in the distance, he could hear the wailing of an ambulance.

He got into the taxi. The driver said something, then took off. He didn’t seem to speak English, so Sousuke gave up on asking him questions. They headed north down the avenue, towards a squalid downtown area. Everywhere they went seemed deserted and desolate.

At last, the taxi stopped in front of a shuttered-up hardware store. The driver gestured for him to get out, refused payment and then drove off. The downtown area was quiet. Shop signs almost completely smothered his view of the gray sky above.

The cell phone in Sousuke’s hand rang again, echoing down the empty city streets. “Look for a yellow shop sign. Behind it is a post box. Find inside it a key for apartment 13,” a man’s voice said. On the other end of the phone, Sousuke could hear the whirring of some kind of generator. “There’s a staircase nearby. Climb up two floors and you’ll find a corridor. Open the fifth door, and go inside. He will be waiting for you there.”

“He?” Sousuke questioned. “Who?”

“Remember the name of the place you’re in.” The call cut off. That was apparently all he’d had to say.

Sousuke looked around him. There was a bus stop nearby. Written on the sign were the characters 九龍寨城, or Kowloon Walled City—It didn’t give him any clues. No, the characters in “Kowloon”—“nine dragons.”

No. It can’t be, Sousuke thought. It’s not possible. Not after everything— And yet, it explained everything.

He’d come too far to turn back now. Sousuke followed the voice’s instructions, took the key from the post box, and ascended the stairs beside the hardware store. He walked down the communal corridor and stopped in front of the fifth door.

He stood there silently, feeling tension infuse the limbs that, just moments ago, had felt limp and lifeless. He put the key in the lock and opened the door. It was a cramped living room, even smaller than the equivalent in a Tokyo apartment. There were almost no furnishings in sight.

As Sousuke quietly proceeded through the dark room, he found himself unconsciously scanning for tripwires and laser triggers. Then he realized that he had drawn his gun. You’re acting like a fool, a little voice in his head told him. You knew this was a trap, and you walked straight into it. Yet, he couldn’t stop walking.

He arrived in a sitting room. Light streamed in from the window, and in the darkness at the back of the room lay a bed. Someone was lying on top of it.

“Hey...” An electronically synthesized voice echoed through the pitch black room. It was speaking Japanese. “I’ve been waiting a long time, Kashim.” Lights from a passing car outside the window momentarily illuminated the face of the man on the bed.

Seeing the face... the pathetically decrepit face, Sousuke whispered, “Gauron...”

‘Kowloon’ was the anglicized pronunciation of the characters that meant ‘nine dragons’—but in Cantonese dialect, they sounded more like ‘Gauron.’ Nine Dragons Peninsula. Nine Dragons Park. Nine Dragons City.

Why hadn’t it occurred to him? No, why hadn’t he even thought about it, even when it was staring him in the face? They’d known his name, “Kashim.” The only person in the world who would know about him and Hamdullah, aside from Kalinin... would be him. But Sousuke had convinced himself that he had to be dead.

“Gauron...” Sousuke whispered again.

The figure that lay on the pristine sheets was smaller than expected. He appeared to be a quadruple amputee, with a right thigh and left bicep all that remained of his limbs. He was connected to a tangle of tubes and IVs; a few cords linked him back to a set of quietly humming medical devices. It was probably all that was keeping him alive.

Gauron’s face, too, was a sad sight. The skin on the left half had been scraped off, leaving masses of keloid scarring, and there was a gaping hole where his left eye should be. This remaining eye filled with mirth as it gazed at Sousuke, and his lips curled back to reveal pale gums and teeth. “I’m happy to see you, Kashim,” Gauron’s synthetic voice said artificially. “Can I offer you a drink? Though, I’m afraid you’ll have to pour it yourself...”

“How did you—” Sousuke began to ask.

“—Survive?” Gauron taunted. “This is the third time you’ve asked... But don’t worry; this will be the last time.” A rustle echoed through the room, like static; it must have been laughter. “I hope you haven’t forgotten. My Codarl had a lambda driver, remember? It can even protect its operator from a self-detonation. Of course, even then, it couldn’t stop me from ending up like this...” There was another electronic chuckle.

“How did you survive in that storm?” Sousuke asked again.

“A fishing boat happened to be passing through the area. That’s why only half of my body ended up as fish bait,” Gauron told him. “You never know with the ocean, do you? It just left me half-dead. Cruel, isn’t it?”

Sousuke turned his pistol to the man’s head. “Then I’ll be sure to finish you, this time.”

“By all means,” Gauron invited. “But you can see the state I’m in... there’s no reason to rush it, is there?”

Sousuke remained silent, seething. After a moment, he asked, “What do you want with me?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” Gauron said innocently.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“It’s true.” He chuckled again. “As you can see, I’m running out of time. I wouldn’t have gone to such lengths, otherwise... I stole a Codarl-m from the organization and sent it on a rampage in town. I knew that would bring you here—with that white AS of yours. Then I spread that message all over the city. I made sure it was everywhere; anywhere your people would look, in any media you might lay eyes on...”

The advertisement Sousuke had seen must have been part of this “campaign.” Mao, Yang, and the others might have seen the message, too, but they wouldn’t have been able to interpret it.

“And now, in the end, you’re here,” Gauron continued. “I thought you’d bring a few friends along, but... I see you’re alone. What happened there, I wonder...”

“That’s none of your business,” Sousuke told him.

He’d meant the words to sound icily indifferent, but Gauron must have noticed the slight strain behind them, because he let out a melancholy chuckle. “Hmph. Finally becoming a bad fit for you, is it?” he observed.

“What?”

“Mithril,” Gauron clarified. “Staying with those do-gooders that long would leave anyone rankled... especially a man like you.”

‘Rankled’—Sousuke couldn’t deny it. But he was determined not to discuss it, so he changed the subject forcefully. “Tell me about the organization you work for.”

“So the job does still matter to you, eh?” Gauron chuckled again, his artificial laughter low in tone.

Sousuke made no reply.

“Very well. This one’s on the house, then—It can be part of my revenge against them, anyway,” he said with an air of nonchalance, and then launched into his explanation. “‘Amalgam’ is the name of the organization that employed me. Their primary goal is to invent new weapons and test them in the field; to that end, they work to fan the flames of terrorism and regional conflict. Scratch a hawk faction in any country in the world, you’ll find a den of Amalgam sympathizers—Both East and West have their fair share of people wanting to preserve the structure and militarization of the Cold War, after all. The Fifth Arab-Israeli Conflict, the Chinese Civil War, the Soviet Civil War... Amalgam had their fingers in all of those pies.”

“This chaos in Hong Kong, too?” Sousuke guessed.

Gauron laughed again. “That one’s entirely my doing,” he admitted. “It has Amalgam in a rare state of panic, I’m sure. There’s a pair of brothers I raised in circumstances similar to yours, long ago—I gave them the order, and they raised havoc. Plus they’ve given me these clean sheets, and this first-rate medical equipment... Oh, the loyalty! It brings tears to the eye.”

“Are they still using the Venom?” Sousuke asked directly.

“If you mean the Codarl-m,” Gauron said, “then yes.”

“Where is it hiding?”

“You really think I’ll tell you that?” he asked scornfully. “What have you got in that bag? It’s a radio, isn’t it? I may be losing my mind, but I’m not quite that far gone.”

“Tell me.” Sousuke pointed the gun at Gauron, but the man merely laughed.

“Oh, please,” he choked out. “You really think death scares me now? You must be losing your mind, too.”

Sousuke found himself lowering the gun, but continued to glower at his long-time nemesis. “That organization... Amalgam, you said? Does it contain a ‘Whispered’?”

“Ah, I expected you’d ask that. The answer is yes,” Gauron confirmed. “In fact, the Whispered is one of their leading members. Quite a snot-nosed brat, but not without his amusing points.”

“Why are they after Chidori Kaname, if they have their own Whispered?” Sousuke wanted to know. “They can’t need her.”

“Because no Whispered is omnipotent; each possesses their own knowledge set,” Gauron explained. “Some individuals know more about lambda driver theory, while some can only speak to submarine technology. There are a variety of fields in play, so when a new Whispered is discovered, it’s first necessary to determine their forte. The tests we did on that girl in Sunan were to discover both if she was a Whispered—and what kind of Whispered she was.”

“What did you find?” Sousuke asked, curious despite himself.

“She was clearly a Whispered... but if they found her specialty, they never told me,” Gauron said. “Rather than kidnapping and investigating her again, though, Amalgam made the decision to wait and watch. I couldn’t tell you why.”

“Where is Amalgam’s main base?” Sousuke asked next. “What’s the hierarchy?”

Gauron chuckled. “Getting greedy now, are you? Here’s my hint: ‘badam.’”

“Badam?”

“Sorry, that’s all you get. I’m growing bored now—It’s not the talking I mind, but the topic doesn’t interest me,” Gauron told him. “It’s not what I wanted to talk about, anyway.”

Sousuke looked down silently at Gauron, whose wretched features reflected amusement. The idea of abasing himself to this man made him sick, but he forced the words out: “Tell me. Please.” He gritted his teeth and waited for the answer, expecting more grinning and taunts.

But Gauron was far from delighted; instead, his gaze at Sousuke turned scornful, yet vexed. “Did you just say ‘please’? I can’t imagine a more pathetic word, coming from you.”

“What?” Sousuke was surprised.

“I suppose you’ve completely sold out to that dubious organization,” Gauron grumbled.

“Dubious? Mithril?”

“Yes. Now, this is what I wanted to talk about.” Gauron’s spirits revived; he cleared his throat, then began. “Think about it. Mithril spends billions of dollars on a submarine, right? I hate to be the one to say it, but how many millions of the poor could that money have helped? ‘Tamping down regional conflict’? ‘Keeping the peace’? Please. They’re no different than Amalgam! Dig a few wells in impoverished villages, then talk to me. Am I right?”

“That’s a strawman argument,” Sousuke said dismissively.

“Indeed,” Gauron returned. “But it’s hard to fully buy into, isn’t it? You can see why Dunnigan and Nguyen turned.”

Sousuke was silent.

“And yet, you’ve stayed. There’s something so unnatural about who you are now, compared to the Kashim I knew. Unconcerned if he lived or died, as unemotional as a doll—that Kashim was a loyal attack dog, slaughtering his enemies without a trace of remorse.” Gauron’s words brought back to mind Sousuke’s life before Mithril. “Think back,” Gauron encouraged. “What were you doing when we first met?”

That was five years ago, now. Gauron had been an instructor at a mercenary camp in Afghanistan. Kashim had been a guerrilla fighting the Soviets in a nearby mountain range. Their first encounter had been by chance, and they weren’t enemies then—they weren’t allies, either, but their immediate interests weren’t at odds.

Kashim had first encountered Gauron while he was in the middle of cleaning up enemy bodies; he’d just taken out a Soviet AS platoon. He could still remember the man’s first words: “You’re working hard, kid. Are all these your kills?” Gauron had stopped his jeep on the roadside as he passed. At the time, he was still whole and hardy, without even the scar on his forehead.

“Yes,” Kashim had answered, as he looked over the charred remains of corpses, ASes and armored cars strewn about. His Rk-92, sitting up on one knee, towered over them.

Gauron had smiled at him, in the same unsettling way he still did to this day, and said, “Then I truly have hope for the future. What’s your name?”

“Kashim.”

“Kashim. Your people will be losing the war here soon. Do you want to come back to my camp? We’ve got food, ammunition, and AS parts.”

“No.”

“Oh, really? Take care, then.” Gauron had driven away, and Kashim had gone back to cleaning up bodies. And that was their first meeting.

“You rounded up those charred corpses without a word of complaint,” Gauron reminisced. “When I was that age, I’d been living in Cambodia, spending my days in a similar way—cleaning up after the slaughters of Pol Pot’s regime. That’s why, when I saw you, I couldn’t help but take interest.” He chuckled.

“And?” Sousuke asked.

“You just had the most wonderful look in your eyes,” Gauron recalled fondly. “No wondering, no questioning, no angst. The eyes of a wild beast—of a saint, rather. Nothing could possibly faze you. Killing as effortlessly as most men draw breath, indifferent to both life and death... it’s the definition of beauty, if you ask me. You know what I mean? You were consistent, free from complication or contradiction. Well? Philosophical, aren’t I?”

Sousuke didn’t respond to the question.

“When I saw you again in Sunan... I can’t tell you how happy I was.” Gauron laughed. “You still had that fine old look in your eyes; that same indifference to life. I thought, ‘I would love to kill you now.’ I also thought, ‘I’ll drag your corpse out of that AS and fuck it.’ Ah, I’m just joking.” Gauron chuckled at first, then burst out in wheezing laughter. “I am! I mean it!” The man, not much bigger than a large sofa cushion, was cackling so hard that he trembled on the bed. The sight—and the sound—was somehow pathetic and bone-chilling at once. “And now... look at you,” he said, his laughter halting immediately.

“What?” Sousuke was caught off-guard at this change in direction.

“You look like any other brat out there. Is that angst I see? Questioning? Where did that saint-like clarity go? It’s a disappointment,” Gauron sighed. “You’ve been dragged down by all their shitty ideas. You’re hideous now—a mess of contradictions; even uglier than I am. You’re not even worth killing.”

“Shut up.” Sousuke turned his gun to Gauron once again.

“We were of a kind, once,” Gauron mourned. “Why would you try to become normal? It’s sickening.”

“I told you to shut up,” Sousuke snarled.

“No, I’m going to keep talking,” Gauron returned defiantly. “Mithril and your little school chums have ruined you. Their spineless idealism has rubbed off on you; it’s made you boring. You admitted you were rankled before, didn’t you? It’s because of them, that so-called humanism of theirs—more accurately, the resentment of the strong by the weak. Now Kashim the murder-saint is gone, never to return again, all because you fell for their con.”

“Listen to me,” Gauron continued urgently. “The weak are like parasites. They feed off the strong, with their treacly ideas of comradeship and trust that just serve to suck the marrow from our bones.”

Sousuke didn’t want to listen—because in that moment, every word from the man’s mouth seemed to ring true. Could there be anything more terrifying than having his mortal enemy, of all people, be the one to correctly assess what had brought him to this point?

But the man was right; he had become weak. Truly weak. When did it start? he asked himself. When I joined Mithril, when I went to Jindai High School, when I met her...

“Tell me how it feels,” Gauron said encouragingly. “Do you enjoy being one of the sheep?”

Sousuke groaned. Something seemed to beckon to him from the darkness beyond the bed.

“Go on, tell me. Do you enjoy being one of the sheep? Well?!”

“I told you to shut up!” Sousuke squeezed the trigger, and the gunshot echoed through the room. The bullet hit Gauron’s pillow and let up a wisp of smoke... but that was all.

“Can’t even work up the nerve to kill an enemy now, hmm?” Gauron taunted, a thin smile on his face.

“Shut up,” was all Sousuke could say, his voice weak and fading. His face was on fire. His breathing was ragged. His back was soaked with sweat.

It was then that a large shadow passed outside the window: It was the Venom, which must have been hiding somewhere nearby. Its diamond-shaped head peered in through the square window at Sousuke and Gauron.

“Is that you, Fei-zau?” Gauron asked.

“I’m on my way out,” the Venom responded through its external speakers. It was the same voice that Sousuke had heard on the phone.

“I see. Take care.”

“Farewell, Sinsang.” The gray AS covered its right fist with its left hand in an expression of respect, then straightened up and leaped. It bounded lightly over shops and apartments, and disappeared in the direction of the city center. The wind its movement generated rattled the windows in its wake.

“Fei-zau will likely die in combat with Mithril,” Gauron said. “If he doesn’t... the Amalgam task force will kill him instead.”

“Task force?” Sousuke questioned.

“Oh, their commander is an absolute madman. Your ‘comrades’ don’t stand a chance,” Gauron chuckled. “They’ll be dead on arrival. But then, maybe that’s for the best...”

Sousuke remained silent.

“I’ll be dead soon myself,” Gauron said, looking up at the ceiling. His tone was completely matter-of-fact. “I was hoping to take a few things out with me, though. That is my style, after all... I ordered Fei-zau there to rampage until Hong Kong burned. And I ordered the other, Fei-hung... to kill the primary cancer behind your decline.”

“The... cancer?”

Gauron’s mouth widened in one final smile. There was something truly gleeful about it. “The girl, Kashim. You haven’t heard?”

Sousuke held his breath.

“He told me the whole thing,” Gauron gloated. “That cute little uniform, all rumpled and torn... Oh, but she was brave, he said; didn’t beg for her life once. Her last words were ‘I’m sorry...’ Who could she have meant that for, I wonder? Ah, tugs at the heartstrings, doesn’t it?”

“You... You’re lying,” Sousuke said shakily.

“But I’m not. I thought about sharing a picture of her corpse, to watch as despair consumed you... but I’ll exercise restraint. After all, Kashim, I can see how badly it’s hurt you already. Ah, my giiirl back in Toookyooo! It’s too late to saaave her! My poor daaarling Kaname-chaaan! She was such a sweet giiirl!”

Sousuke pointed his gun straight at Gauron. He didn’t waver this time. “Gauron!”

“That’s right, I killed her!” Gauron exclaimed gleefully. “Now, hate me!”

All Sousuke’s hesitation left him, and he fired six shots into Gauron’s chest. Each sent a spasm through the man and sprayed fresh blood across the sheets, until at last, the heart monitor settled into a flat, empty tone.

Gauron’s eye remained wide open, gazing into the middle distance, at the place where Sousuke’s gun had been. His face was locked in its twisted smile.

As Sousuke gasped for breath, he could feel his ears ringing. “It’s not true...” he choked out. Suddenly, he didn’t know where he was, or who he was, or what the corpse in front of him meant. He knew someone had died in some far-off place, but he didn’t know who.

Kaname is... dead? It finally hit him. Alone in a dark room, in a deserted city... In that instant, Sousuke really was alone in the world.

An electronic sound reached his ears. Beep...... beep... beep... bebebeep... Its tone gradually grew higher. It wasn’t the sound of the medical devices. It was something else... yes, under the bed—

Alarm bells blared from a corner of his numbed brain, and his body was moving before he even knew why. He didn’t bother to question it, he just dashed across the room and smashed through the nearby window.

A split-second later, the apartment exploded. Some high-performance explosives hidden under the bed had gone off, shaking the entire complex with the force, and sending tongues of flame out from every window. The shockwave had shattered every window in the area, and the glass fragments now littered the deserted road.

Sousuke clung to the sign he’d managed to grab onto as he leaped. He let out a groan, and then his hand slipped, and he fell onto the sidewalk in front of the hardware store.

Fire blazed high above him. Glass and rubble littered the street around him. Sousuke sat up unsteadily, and gazed at the burning debris with empty eyes.

Two men were running toward him across the glass-scattered road. They were in plain clothes, so he didn’t recognize them at first, but they were Hunter’s subordinates in the intelligence division. “You’re looking rough, Sergeant,” one agent said, looking up at the second floor of the burning apartment.

“How did you know I was here?” Sousuke asked.

“The major asked us to tail you,” admitted the agent.

“I see...”

“The museum for the old Kowloon Fort is nearby. It looks like the Venom was hiding in its courtyard,” the other agent mused. “Although... it’s irrelevant, now.”

Sousuke could hear artillery fire coming from the downtown area; the Venom must be out on its rampage. This was followed by more shots, these ones coming from the ASes of the South Chinese Army.

No... it wasn’t the South Chinese Army. Sousuke recognized the rapid-fire pattern as belonging to the Oerlikon Contraves-made GEC-B rifle, which the South Chinese Army didn’t use.

“Your comrades’ M9s are fighting,” one of the agents informed him.

“What?” Sousuke asked in shock.

“We ran out of time,” the agent told him. “Apparently, they’ll be fighting the Venom head-on.”

There was no way to describe it but reckless. How can they fight the Venom without the Arbalest? Sousuke wondered. It was suicide.

“We just contacted them on the radio,” an agent told him. “They’re sending your AS from the Tuatha de Danaan.”

“What?” Sousuke asked again.

“That’s all I know. We’re going to start searching for anything the Venom left behind in its hideout. Just wait here, okay? We need to go,” the agent said. Then the two of them ran on past Sousuke.

Alone again, Sousuke could only stand there, permeated by a sense of isolation. The Arbalest is coming here? he thought. But he couldn’t use it anymore. That AS was what had sent his destiny spinning off the rails—he didn’t even want to look at it. He wanted to call the de Danaan and say, “Don’t bother; it’s pointless,” but the bag containing his radio had been blown away with Gauron.

“Gauron...” he whispered. If my instincts had triggered one split-second later, I would’ve died in that room with him. Was that his plan? To take me out with him?

No, that’s not it, Sousuke realized. It was a test—If my senses were so atrophied that I’d failed to move in time, it would be a sign that I was better off dead. Even after losing something critical, I still try to keep on moving... was he mocking that tendency in me? Was he trying to say, “I’ll die here, but you get to go on suffering”?

That’s probably it, he concluded. By killing Chidori Kaname, Gauron has stolen my hope and my future. If he wanted to put a curse on me, he couldn’t have picked a better way to do it.

Kaname was dead. It still didn’t feel real. Yet, Sousuke could feel what little light and warmth remained in him dwindle into nothing. He’d seen so much death throughout his life; she was just another picture in that unfortunate album.

No tears fell from his eyes. All he felt was a return to that familiar old melancholy. That’s how life is, he reminded himself. Nothing’s changed. I never had a future.

Wind began to blow through the dry cracks in his heart: indifference to himself, indifference to life. No death would make a ripple in his soul ever again.

Sousuke could hear an engine roaring above; it drew his eyes to that narrow strip of sky visible beyond the shop signs. A white bird was flying in from the south. No, not a bird—the Arbalest.

It soared straight for him, riding through the night on the wings of an emergency deployment booster. The booster completed its fuel burn; the wings detached and a parachute opened. It slowed the Arbalest’s descent, but not enough. A second parachute opened, and it slowed even more.

Then suddenly, the parachutes tore free, and the white giant plunged through countless signs to land on the deserted street. It pulverized the asphalt as it slammed into the road with the broken signs bouncing its wake. But the narrowness of the streets had thrown off its landing posture, and inertia brought it toppling forward, right in Sousuke’s direction.

Sousuke watched silently as the massive white form closed in... then missed him by a hair, only to crash chest-first into the burning apartment beside him. The impact rustled Sousuke’s hair and clothes, but he didn’t even flinch as the machine finally settled, collapsing onto its right side.

Burning detritus flitted around the machine, stirred up by the crash. It was a pathetic landing, utterly humiliating. Sousuke felt embarrassment just watching it.

In the flames, the machine now lay still, its eyes gazing at him blankly.

We make a lousy team, the eyes of the Arbalest seemed to tell him. I know you hate me. I hate you, too. So walk away if you want. I’m in no mood for this, either. I don’t care what happens anymore.

What does it matter to you if someone dies? the phantom Arbalest went on in his mind. You don’t care what happens to Kurz, or to Mao, or to any of them. They’ll be gone sooner or later, eventually, just like Chidori Kaname. Just like the others, back in Afghanistan. They’ll all die, and so will you. That’s just how the world is. Give up already.

He felt mocked, ridiculed, insulted by a mere machine. And yet, he couldn’t be angry.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Sousuke whispered at last. His voice was cold and empty. “You can lie there and rot.” He didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore. But, just as he was about to turn to leave, he heard a voice—a girl’s voice.

“What the heck are you standing there mumbling about?” the voice said. The words were Japanese, and it seemed to be speaking to him.

He turned around, and... there, standing in the middle of the road, was Chidori Kaname. Her feet were firmly planted and her arms were folded in a scolding posture. He had to rub his eyes and look again.

She was dressed in her Jindai High School uniform, and there was a travel bag hanging off her right shoulder. From head to toe, she was exactly the girl he knew. But wait, no... he looked closer and saw the plasters, which were stuck here and there on her legs. There was a brace over her right knee, and a band-aid on her chin.

“What—” he started to ask.

“Don’t ‘what’ me,” the girl, who looked just like Chidori Kaname, said with a scowl.

Sousuke stared in disbelief a moment longer. “Chidori?” It wasn’t an illusion; she was alive. But why was she here? How had she known where he was? He staggered toward her with unsteady steps. “Chidori... you’re... all right?”

“Apparently,” she shrugged, scowl deepening.

“I thought... you were dead,” he stammered back. “Chido—” Suddenly, the travel bag slammed into the side of his head, knocking him off his balance. After a few stunned moments, he managed to squeak, “What?”

“I said don’t ‘what’ me!!” Kaname shouted at him. “Do you understand the shit I had to crawl through to get here?! You think I want to hear that you thought I was dead?! I’d been thinking the mushiest stuff, see? ‘The next time I see him, I’ll throw my arms around him!’ But now you’ve killed the mood! What the hell is your problem, huh?! You’d better make this one up to me!”

“Er, wait a minute,” Sousuke said, now rapidly trying to backpedal. “I don’t understand—”

“Shut the hell up!” This time, she socked him in the jaw.

“Blurgh...”

“Does it hurt?” Kaname demanded. “Does it? That’s the pain you put my heart through. And this...!” She chopped him in the neck with her hand.

“Hlugh...”

“...is the pain you put my body through! And this...!!” Kaname jumped and drove her knee into Sousuke’s solar plexus.

“Glub...”

“...is the pain! You put my soul through!!” As Sousuke fell to his knees, Kaname finished him off with a Bruce Lee-style punch.

“What in the world... is going on here?” he asked, trembling.

“Remember that agent person... you know, the one called Wraith?” she said, nostrils flaring. “I said, ‘if you don’t want me to spill the beans on how you almost got me killed, you’d better take me to Sousuke.’ Basically blackmail, right? Then when I saw that AS Gauron piloted on the news, it all made sense. I knew you’d have to be here.”

“B-But... this city is on the verge of war,” Sousuke protested. “It’s not safe here.”

“Yeah, I know,” Kaname told him pointedly. “The airport wasn’t taking flights, which is why it took us a whole day to get here. I really worked my ass off, okay?!”

“But why...?” Why are you here? Why risk the danger? Sousuke wanted to ask. He couldn’t even begin to fathom her reasons.

“Well...” He looked up in time to see Kaname avert her gaze, like a child being scolded for a prank. “I mean... letting things end like we did seemed... you know...”

“What?” he questioned.

“Seriously, it’s nothing. It’s just... it made me so mad, the way you ran off like that! I was like, ‘I’m gonna find that guy and grab him by the collar and drag him back to school! Because I’m—” Kaname clenched her fists tight, screwing up the will to say something important. “I’m—”

“You’re...?”

She smacked herself on the head a few times as if to knock the words free, and took in a deep breath... but in the end, all she said was, “I’m... your class representative.”

Sousuke stared at her, baffled.

Kaname let out a deep sigh, and muttered, “I guess a day really does sap the determination...”

He had no idea what she meant. “What does that matter?” he wanted to know.

“Shut up!” Kaname fumed at him defensively. “And... what’s your problem, anyway?! What are you sitting around here for? Don’t you know there’s a bad guy loose in the city?”

“But—”

“But what? You’re just gonna stand there and watch that AS go to town? I saw your face a minute ago!” Kaname said accusingly. “You looked like the old you!”

“What...?” Sousuke asked, now thoroughly bewildered.

“You know, back when I called you Sagara-kun! Like... you don’t care what happens to you,” she said sadly. “You looked so cold. And sad, really sad... Ah, what am I saying? The point is... um...” Kaname floundered on, stammering. “Look, I got a call on the radio from Mao earlier. She said you were kind of falling apart. You were kind of losing your... spirit, you know? Your ‘let’s do this!’ attitude.”

Sousuke said nothing.

“But, you know?” Kaname mused. “When everyone’s in trouble, you always go help. It’s part of who you are.”

“Who I am?” he questioned.

“Yeah.”

“But Chidori,” Sousuke protested. “I... I abandoned you...” You had nobody else to turn to, and yet I abandoned you, he castigated himself. Following that stupid, worthless order... And despite that, you still—

“I told you, it’s fine now,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. “Because we got to see each other again. Look, I get it... You couldn’t bring yourself to tell me, right?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Ugh... seriously, you’re such a coward.”

“Coward...”

“Yeah,” Kaname accused him. “A total coward. But you’re also strong, and you’re kind. And you honestly suck in a lot of ways, but you somehow make it work. I think... all of that is who you really are.” Kaname smiled bashfully. Her smile was like magic. “I mean... I’m right, right?”

Somehow, those awkward, halting words had caused Gauron’s curse to vanish into the ether; Sousuke couldn’t believe how quickly it left him. He felt cleansed. The hesitation that had clung to him like tar was now washed away with the tide.

‘Coward’... Gauron said I used to be strong. But... he was wrong. I’ve always been weak. A weak person, trying to be strong, he realized. I had to stop being a coward because I had to become stronger—that’s the only reason. The weight of the things I’m supposed to protect—the old me never felt it. That’s the only difference between then and now.

I’m a weak being, full of contradictions. I’m not a superhero. I can’t save the whole world. I’m just... one stupid man, who can maybe save a few of the people around him, at best. Can a man like that really be a soldier?

Yes, Sousuke decided. There are times when I can. And through some whim of fate, I’ve been given the chance to do it time and again. Now is one of those times: My comrades are waiting on the other side of those flames.

The melancholy and death that’s been so constant in my life, so much that it feels like fate... I have the tools to struggle against that, don’t I? Isn’t that what fighting is? That’s right...

He looked down and spoke, slowly and hesitantly. “Chidori. I—”

Smack! Kaname got him with an ankle sweep, and Sousuke kissed the Hong Kong pavement.

“What are you—”

“Don’t ‘Chidori, I’ me!!” Kaname shouted at him with all her strength.

“But I—”

“No more talk! There’s no time, okay? Your world history credit’s at stake! Tomorrow, fifth period! You can still make it! But for now, go over there...” she pointed straight for the city center, then towards the Arbalest lying on the ground. “...and take care of that!”

The white AS’s eyes spoke to him again. Well, what now? they seemed to say.

It was a dangerous game, like hunting a wild beast. The six M9s, including Clouseau, maintained a ring around the Venom—which had just destroyed an M6 belonging to the South Chinese Army—as they pursued.

The Venom had taken out Corporal Speck’s M9 thirty seconds into hostilities. He’d been disoriented by all the signs and winding streets, and in a moment’s lapse during a retreat, he had let the enemy get in too close. The lambda driver’s shockwave had slammed his machine, taking him immediately out of the fight. In the flurry and confusion of battle, they had no time to check if Speck was dead, or assess the severity of his machine’s damage.

“Uruz-1, it’s heading your way!” Mao warned Clouseau sharply.

“I saw it,” he told her. “I just—” A powerful explosion at close range sent him reeling; the enemy machine had thrown an anti-tank dagger.

“Uruz-1?!” called Mao.

The Venom came charging at him through the smoke. Clouseau pressed his back against a high-rise apartment and opened fire. Deflected, his rifle’s shots flew off in random directions, causing a new rain of debris.

The Venom rushed in close and struck out with a fist. Clouseau just barely ducked it, but the distortion in the air that wreathed the strike blew away the M9’s right shoulder and the building behind it simultaneously.

He felt a heavy jolt, accompanied by a high-pitched wheeze of air. For just a moment, Clouseau’s mind turned hazy. He dug down deep, skillfully righted his machine and, in the same motion, unleashed a whirlwind-like roundhouse kick. The M9’s heel struck the Venom in the head, taking it slightly off its balance. Another knee. Another elbow. Clouseau tried to draw the monomolecular cutter from his machine’s hip, but its right arm wouldn’t respond. No—it was missing from the shoulder down. Clouseau gasped. The Venom pressed in mercilessly and raised its hand flat, like a blade.

“Don’t move, Uruz-1.” It was Kurz’s voice; a long-range sniper shot tore into the Venom. The enemy machine’s body went flying, as if struck from the side. Clouseau used the distraction to leap his M9 away, getting some distance from its enemy. A more mediocre operator never would have made it.

“It deflected again,” Kurz fumed. “The thing’s a damned cockroach!”

“Thanks, Uruz-6,” Clouseau said.

“That’s two you owe me now, Lieutenant.”

“Perth-1 to Uruz-1. Damage report,” Major Kalinin requested through the radio. He was in the helicopter above, issuing commands.

“This is... Uruz-1. My right arm is non-functional,” Clouseau admitted. “I’ve lost my firearm, too. Light damage to the operator. Coolant system is malfunctioning. I won’t last much longer.” He could feel a scorching pain along his right arm. It was like the pain from a burn wound. Was this another side effect of the lambda driver?

“Understood. Withdraw three blocks to the south; you’ll find a three-way junction there. Take the southwest fork and lure it into Area 11A,” Kalinin ordered, his voice perpetually calm.

“Uruz-1, roger that.”

“Uruz-6, move south,” Kalinin went on. “I’m sending data now. Create a sniping zone at the intersection on the map and stand by. When the Venom leaps out, empty your clips at it, then retreat west.”

“Uruz-6, roger that.”

“Perth-1 to all units. I’ve gotten a report from the intelligence division. Uruz-8 is alive, and they’re working to retrieve him now. Three hundred seconds have passed since the battle began. Hold out for one hundred more. The balance is shifting in our favor.”

Clouseau judged Kalinin’s assessment to be correct; they’d taken a lot of punishment, but the Venom was definitely slowing down. Was it an energy issue, or an operator issue? There was no way to know, but in either case, the enemy was weakening.

They could do this. They weren’t out of the woods yet, but if nothing else went wrong, they would be able to surround the Venom from afar and dispatch it. Their plan was going to work—but first, he had to find a way to throw off the Venom’s pursuit.

Clouseau performed a series of small bounds with his machine, moving swiftly down the narrow road. The AI continued to warn him about power issues; he couldn’t keep moving for much longer.

“Uruz-1 here,” he radioed in. “I’m past the three-way junction. I’m almost to the intersection—” Despite knowing the Venom was hot on his heels, Clouseau stopped there, suddenly, in his tracks.

“What’s wrong, Uruz-1?” Mao asked.

“It can’t be...” he muttered.

“Uruz-1, status report,” Kalinin demanded.

“Venoms—” Clouseau had stopped just before the intersection. Across from him... on the roof of a shopping center with its neon lights extinguished, stood five figures.

Five ASes—five Venoms.

From the crimson Venoms, five red mono-eyes peered down at Clouseau. “There are... five Venoms,” he radioed again.

“What?”

“Uruz-6 here. I saw them, too. He’s right. Five of ’em.” Even Kurz’s voice was stiff and halting.

The Venom on Clouseau’s heels, too, had stopped at the entrance to the intersection. Its red sensor was no longer trained on him, but on the five new arrivals.

“You’ve been having quite a time, haven’t you, Fei-zau?” called a voice from the external speakers of one of the machines. It was high-pitched, and reminiscent of a crow. It barely seemed to notice Clouseau’s presence. “Stealing an m-type from the organization, then wreaking havoc in a region outside of the plan,” the voice continued. “I wonder. Have you lost your mind?”

“No more than you have, Mr. Kalium,” the gray Venom replied, speaking for the first time. “Amalgam was the reason my little brother and I lost our home. I can die happy, knowing that I’ve bloodied your nose.”

“Hmm... Your brother, you say?” the first voice mused. “Would you like to see him now?”

“What?”

The red Venom held its right hand out. On its fingers rested a small sphere, its scale about that of a quail egg in a human hand. It was a head—a person’s head.

“No!”

“I asked Mr. Silver to lend it to me. He wanted to give it a proper burial, but I wouldn’t hear of it; dumped on a dirty street corner is a more fitting fate for a traitor.” Then, the red Venom unceremoniously tossed the head away. It flew in an arc over the distant buildings. “Ah, poor him,” the man inside the Venom chuckled.

“Damn you...!” The gray Venom leaped into the air. It jumped over Clouseau’s M9 and charged straight for the five machines.

“And poor you, too,” the red Venom sighed mockingly.

The next instant, all five machines moved. Spears, tachis, knives... they assaulted the gray Venom en masse. The very air around them seemed to buckle, and the walls of the shopping center were smashed to powder.

Clouseau gritted his teeth and jumped his machine away, as bits of shrapnel pinged against its armor.

At last, the smoke cleared. The gray Venom remained atop the crumbled shopping center, skewered by the weapons and looking almost like a hedgehog. The five red Venoms tossed the gray one down to the street below, where it landed, smoking and sparking, and then lay still. That machine that had given them so much trouble—dispatched in an instant.

Do those five machines also have lambda drivers? Clouseau wondered.

“Ben?!” Mao’s M9 flew to Clouseau’s side and helped him up.

“Didn’t you hear me, Uruz-1? The operation is off,” Kalinin warned him. “Retreat.”

“I can’t,” Clouseau told him. “My generator is shot... I can only handle minimal movements.”

“Then abandon your machine,” Mao insisted. “We need to get out of here—”

“By the way, you two,” the central Venom said to them now. His tone suggested he hadn’t even noticed them, until just this very minute. “You’re Mithril soldiers, correct?”

Neither Mao nor Clouseau spoke.

“I was thinking I’d just let you go... but crushing that one machine hasn’t quite scratched my itch,” the Venom mused. “I think I’ll kill you, too. I can call it combat experience.”

“What...” Clouseau began. From their present location, the five machines could be on them in an instant. There was no time to open the hatch, exit the machine, and have Mao carry him to safety.

“Once more,” Kalinin said. “Perth-1 to all machines: get out of there, on the double.”

“Forget about me and run, Mao!” Clouseau shouted.

“But—”

“Just go!” he insisted. On the roof of the devastated shopping center, the five machines moved into confident battle stances. Weapons at the ready, they were getting ready to jump.

“All ready? Then, goodb—” A shell slammed into the lead machine’s right shoulder. A hunk of crimson armor went flying, trailing smoke. Something had penetrated through the lambda driver’s field, in order to deal damage to the machine.

“What...?” The Venoms turned their eyes across the intersection to another building’s roof.

“Who fired that shot?” Clouseau demanded to know. “Weber?”

“No,” Kurz denied. “I was about to, but... looks like he’s finally joining the party.”

Clouseau looked up questioningly.

Kurz sounded vaguely amused, despite their dire situation. “But I gotta say, this timing... a little over-dramatic, isn’t it, Sousuke?!”

“I suppose so,” that sergeant in question responded. A new AS was standing atop the tallest building in the area, facing down the five Venoms. Its white form stood out glaringly against the dim lights of the city.

“Uruz-7 to all units...” The Arbalest glowered at the five Venoms, trusty shotcannon in hand. “Sorry to keep you waiting. Leave the rest to me.”

His machine’s power output was rising—from cruise to military, then to max. Inside the humming cockpit, Sousuke whispered, “It activated just now, didn’t it?”

《Affirmative, Sergeant. The lambda driver did activate,》 Al confirmed.

Sousuke grumbled to himself, “It works, it doesn’t work... Not exactly reliable hardware, is it?”

《I agree.》

“I think you’re better at joking than I am,” Sousuke told Al.

《Affirmative.》

“And insults, as well.”

Just then, he received a short message from Kalinin. “Perth-1 to Uruz-7. You’re back in action?”

“Affirmative, Perth-1.”

“Then I leave it to you.”

“Roger,” Sousuke signed off tersely. He could see the Venoms looking up at him in his monitor. Five opponents... can I beat them? These aren’t like old-fashioned Savages. In the past, I’ve struggled to beat even one Venom... But I think I can do it, he thought.

This machine and I. We’re a lousy team, the worst there’s been... but we’ve held out this long, and complaining about compatibility won’t get us anywhere. It sucks, but it makes it work—that’s what this machine is. And it’s who I am, too... right, Chidori?

Sousuke took a deep breath. He adjusted his grip on the control sticks, then made a slight movement. Reflecting his input, the machine spread its arms wide. “Let’s go!” he yelled to Al.

《Roger!》

Sousuke stepped off the edge of the roof; the Arbalest dropped, tumbling through the air like a feather. From a fully upside-down position, it aimed its gun at the five machines below. Start from the right... Sousuke thought, then fired. His shotcannon’s shell trailed rainbow light as it pierced a Venom’s torso, and armor fragments blew out from its back. It had only taken one hit.

The shot’s recoil flipped the Arbalest 180 degrees, and let Sousuke land on his feet. The asphalt broke, and shock absorbent expelled from the machine’s drive system.

“Wh-What?!” Biting back his surprise at his underling’s easy dispatch, the lead machine ordered the others to fan out. The Venoms split into two teams, drew their firearms and fired.

Sousuke whirled the Arbalest lightly around in response, kicking up a whirlwind. His opponents’ fire peppered the ground around him. Then he jumped, leaping over the barrage and using a sign, hanging over the road, as a springboard. The sign didn’t even crack under his machine’s nine-ton weight, but he didn’t care to wonder why.

To the right, to the left... The Arbalest danced back and forth, dodging the Venoms’ shots. Then, when he’d reached just the right spot... he fired!

One of the enemy Venoms crossed its arms to block the shotcannon’s shell, but the rainbow shot pierced through them anyway. The red machine slammed back into the road, nearly bisected at the torso.

“That’s two!” Sousuke crowed.

《Proximity alert,》 Al warned him, blaring an alarm. 《Four o’clock.》 A Venom was approaching from the right and behind, running along the high-rise apartment’s wall. It was carrying a long, halberd-shaped monomolecular cutter, which it swung at him.

A flash, a dodge—Sousuke used his left hand to draw his monomolecular cutter and cut the weapon through its shaft. Then, on the return slash, he dealt a diagonal slice through the Venom itself. Sparks showered, and the enemy machine fell to its knees on the road. Sousuke’s machine thrust out its shotcannon with its other hand and fired. There was a dazzling blast of rainbow flame, and the Venom exploded.

《That makes three!》 Al noted.

“Don’t say it before me!” Sousuke chided him.

The fourth machine kept its rifle spraying fire as it jumped down from a building to the road below. Sousuke used that moment to roll his machine lithely forward—and as he rolled, he fired.

Perhaps due to the recklessness of the action, the shell only blasted the enemy machine’s left arm away. But with a perfectly executed jackknife maneuver, the Arbalest straightened up, planted both feet—and unleashed another shot at his target the minute it landed. This one found its mark straight in the opponent’s chest, and sent the Venom flying.

“That’s four!” Sousuke and Al cried in unison.

Next, he ran low down the abandoned avenue, smelling the wind as if were on his own face. It was a strange feeling, as if the machine had become an extension of his body.

There was a kind of perfect unity that AS operators experienced from time to time—a feeling of omnipotence, almost, a sense that overwhelming power was entirely at one’s disposal—and Sousuke felt that now. The machine was like a part of him. I hated it so much before, but now, he thought, maybe it’s not that bad. Maybe I’ve been too hard on it.

No, what he was feeling now went beyond all that. He felt weightless. He felt like he could fly forever. That’s right, Sousuke realized. I can go anywhere. Anywhere! Nobody can stop me!

As he turned the corner, the commander Venom came into sight. It was firing its large Gatling gun at him, using a South Chinese M6 that was unfortunate enough to be in the area as a shield.

Smashing through more shop signs, then, the Arbalest leaped into the air. The jump was enormous, higher and longer than Sousuke had managed from any machine before this. It carried him completely over the commander Venom.

“What?!” When the Arbalest landed behind it, the panicking machine turned its Gatling gun towards Sousuke. A flash erupted from the Arbalest’s left hand, and its monomolecular cutter split the Gatling gun in two.

“S-Stay back! Stay back!” The final Venom tossed its broken weapon aside and pressed a handgun to the cockpit of its hostage M6. “I’ll kill the operator, got it?! Stay back! Don’t come any closer!”

“H-Help me...” begged the M6’s operator. The machine’s control system seemed to have taken damage, so that he couldn’t move its arms.

What to do? No, I know... I’ll use the move that took out Mao on Berildaob Island, Sousuke decided. I think I can handle it now.

“I... I thought Mithril’s lambda driver was incomplete!” the lead Venom protested. “No, this is beyond just being completed... Who the hell are you? Who in the living hell are you?!”

“You want to know?” Sousuke taunted, tossing aside his shotcannon.

Who am I? Yes... That’s right. I am...

“Jindai High School, Class 2-4. Student ID number 41. Continuing on trash duty even in my second term...” Around his right fist, a rainbow-wreathed fire burned. It let out a strange thrumming sound. “...Sagara Sousuke!!”

“Wh-What?!” Despite it’s operator’s obvious confusion, the lead Venom turned its handgun towards him and fired.

Sousuke—the Arbalest effortlessly deflected the shot, then thrust its fist at the chest of the hostage M6. The ground shook; the street roared. A sound burst forth, like hundreds of beasts letting up a howl all at once, and the sheer power unleashed seemed to warp gravity itself. The force passed through the M6, leaving it unscathed, saving its wrath for the enemy machine behind it.

The Venom’s body simply shattered. The armor, the frame, the electromagnetic musculature—every part of it was pulverized and sent flying. Its fragments scattered across the road, mixing with glass from the surrounding buildings.

The hostage M6 remained untouched. It toppled onto its backside and stared dumbly up at the Arbalest.

“Go,” Sousuke said, and pointed down the road. The M6’s operator stammered something, then beat a swift retreat.

After a moment, Al spoke up. 《Destruction of all targets confirmed. Switch to search mode?》

“Whatever you want,” Sousuke told Al.

《Roger.》

Sousuke pressed a switch on the control stick and opened a transmission channel. “Uruz-7 to all machines. All Venoms neutralized.”

“Uruz-1 here. You... destroyed them all?”

“Affirmative. Now let’s head back to the TDD-1 for—” Sousuke began, then reconsidered. The trouble in the city was cleared up; now they’d wait for the transport helicopters to return them to the Tuatha de Danaan. That was the usual pattern.

But he didn’t want the usual pattern. Even as he realized that, though, it took him a little courage to say what he said next: “Correction. Uruz-7 speaking. I’ve neutralized all enemy machines. I am now moving on to my next mission. I’m leaving the Arbalest here, so be sure to retrieve it quickly, or the South Chinese Army will take it away.”

“I don’t understand, Uruz-7,” Clouseau said in confusion. “What is your ‘next mission’?”

“Transmission over!” Sousuke shut his radio off, knelt the Arbalest down, and pressed the switch under the stick to open the hatch. The power of compressed air slowly did its job.

《Sergeant. You are skipping standard mission aftermath procedures,》 Al prodded him.

“It’s all right,” Sousuke reassured the AI. “The mission is over.”

《Roger.》 There was a pause. 《May I ask a question?》

“What is it?”

《The battle just concluded was in every regard the best of my existence. In human terms... it was a surprising result. If possible, I would like you to explain how this happened.》

Sousuke thought a moment. “The problems were resolved. That more or less describes it.”

《Your problems, do you mean?》

“No.” Sousuke tapped at the console panel. “Our problems.”

《I do not understand this response.》

“Think about it... partner.” With that, Sousuke exited the Arbalest’s cockpit. He landed on the road, then took off at top speed, stepping through the fragments of the enemy’s burning machine. Someone was waiting for him, and he could go anywhere.

●

Teletha Testarossa’s first reaction, upon hearing that Sagara Sousuke had abandoned the Arbalest and disappeared, was... “Ah, of course.”

When she asked Gavin Hunter in the intelligence division, he told her that Chidori Kaname had been out of touch since then as well. His intelligence network did report three hours later, though, that surveillance cameras in Kai Tak Airport witnessed a boy and girl who strongly resembled them. The use of the fake passport issued during the recon mission had given them away.

The damaged M9, Corporal Speck, and the Arbalest were all safely recovered. Throughout the recovery process, Tessa’s subordinates went to great efforts to pacify the South Chinese Army, then leave without being seen. Getting back to the Tuatha de Danaan would prove quite a hassle, as well.

But, at the very least, things had been more or less wrapped up. They were able to collect a significant amount of the Venoms’ remains, and they’d managed to keep tensions between the North and South armies from boiling over just in time, and the evacuated citizens were able to return to downtown Hong Kong.

They didn’t learn of Sagara Sousuke’s whereabouts until a full day after the Tuatha de Danaan left Hong Kong’s territory. He’d sent them a transmission, which the intelligence division traced it back to a high school in Tokyo. Mardukas was furious, and ordered him to return to Merida Island at once.

Sousuke’s reply was simple, but respectful: “I cannot follow that order, sir. At least, not until tomorrow afternoon.”

“Why not?” Tessa asked.

Sousuke responded calmly. “I have a test on Saturday on the Chinese classics, and I’m in real danger of failing.”

Kalinin, who was listening in from beside them, let out a rare howl of laughter.

25 October, 1121 Hours (West Pacific Standard Time)

1st Meeting Room, Mithril Merida Island Base

Mithril executives were gathered in the first meeting room at the Merida Island base—in holographic form, as usual.

Mardukas, Kalinin, and Sousuke stood next to Tessa’s seat. Sousuke had arrived in Merida Island from Tokyo just thirty minutes before.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry,” General Amit, head of the intelligence division, said in a low voice.

“And yet, he is the only one who can control the Arbalest,” Tessa responded.

General Amit snorted. “Be quiet, Colonel. A mere sergeant—a juvenile NCO, at that—is acting in defiance of a top brass decision. And he’s done it in a way that amounts to blackmail. You expect me to tolerate this?”

“It’s not blackmail, and I’m not trying to defy you,” Sousuke said confidently. “All I’m proposing is a change in my current contract. If you don’t like my terms, I’m happy to buy it out and leave the battle group instead.”

“What about our secrets?” Amit demanded.

“Feel free to do what you have to to prevent leaks,” Sousuke said calmly. “But, be warned... I have no intention of submitting quietly to arrest or confinement.”

Amit’s hologram leaned forward to peer into Sousuke’s face. “How dare you, Sergeant,” he fumed. “Do you think you can live whatever life you want, having turned a man like me against you?”

“I’ll answer your question with a question, General. Do you think I’m not prepared for whatever you throw at me?”

“What did you say?!”

“If I may, General...” Sousuke spoke with confidence, unfazed. “I never sold my soul to Mithril. If I don’t like how you do things, I’m going to stop you however I can. That’s all this is. I’ll keep piloting the Arbalest. I’ll risk my life for my comrades. And I’ll also attend school. Things will just go back to the way they were before... except that I won’t take a salary while I’m in Tokyo. Why can’t you handle that?”

“You watch your mouth, Sergeant!”

“‘Sergeant’?” Sousuke questioned. “I’m a mercenary; a wanderer. I don’t give a damn about ranks, so don’t try to pull them on me. Keep your commands for your pet dogs.”

General Amit purpled as laughter echoed through the room. Lord Mallory, who had been listening silently to the conversation, could no longer restrain himself.

“Sir?” Amit addressed the earl, cautiously.

The man kept on laughing. “I think it’s time to admit defeat, General,” Lord Mallory advised. “‘You can’t tame the mercenaries of the SRT.’ Who made that very point, in this same room, just a few days ago?”

“I...”

“That’s right,” Lord Mallory went on. “It was you, General. Now, one of those pesky elites is agreeing to work for half the pay. I, for one, think it’s ludicrous to fight such a welcome thing. Don’t you agree, Admiral?”

The hologram Lord Mallory was addressing, Admiral Borda, made a show of thinking. Then he shrugged, and made an indifferent reply. “Well... I suppose. Though I can’t say I don’t have my reservations.”

“Dr. Panerose?” Lord Mallory turned his eyes to Dr. Panerose, head of the research division.

“I received Lemming’s report,” Dr. Panerose replied. “As far as the research division is concerned, Sergeant Sagara is indispensable for future LD research.”

“Excellent. Any further objections?” Mallory asked the other high officials sitting around the table. Silence reigned. “Then that’s that,” Lord Mallory decided. “Colonel Testarossa, I’m sorry you have to deal with so many eccentric subordinates... You have my deepest sympathies.”

“Not at all. My men and women are the best in the business,” Tessa told him confidently.

Lord Mallory smiled. “Hmm. It seems that things aren’t going as poorly as all that with the West Pacific battle group. I look forward to more fine work from you all in the future.”

“I am honored, sir.”

“Now, Sergeant... er... Sagara Sousuke, wasn’t it?” Lord Mallory turned his attention to Sousuke now.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m going to remember that name,” he warned. “This conference is now over. Take care, all of you.”

With the online conference concluded, it was Mardukas who addressed Sousuke first. “I’ll offer you my congratulations. But... Sergeant. Try not to add to my worries so much. You had us all terrified, to put it mildly!”

“Sir... I’m extremely sorry, Colonel.” Sousuke gave a proper salute, and Mardukas sighed and left the conference room.

It was Kalinin’s turn to speak up then. “Satisfied now?”

“Yes.”

“You’re looking more like a man.”

“What?” Sousuke blinked in surprise.

“I’ll treat you to a meal later,” Kalinin told him approvingly. “You can fill me in about Gauron then.”

“Thank you,” Sousuke said after a pause.

Kalinin gave Sousuke a light whack in the back with his file case—behavior that was hardly like him—and then left the conference room. This left Sousuke and Tessa alone.

“I...” Dressed in her khaki-colored uniform, Tessa opened her mouth hesitantly. “I suppose I haven’t said it yet. I’m sorry... about before.”

“Before?” Sousuke asked.

“Oh, really...” Tessa sounded exasperated. “You don’t remember our huge fight before the Hong Kong operation?”

“Ah. Right,” Sousuke responded vaguely, unsure of what to say. “I’m the one who should apologize, though.”

“Not at all,” Tessa protested. “I was simply... envious of Kaname-san, and I let it get under my skin...”

“Colonel...”

“I think I was looking for comfort, because it was you,” she rushed on. “But it wasn’t right to behave that way. I need to draw a line. But... well...” With her face pointed downward, Tessa glanced up to meet Sousuke’s gaze. “Are we still... friends?” she asked, weakly.

At last, Sousuke understood. Her tears that day, the burning anger she’d shown... he still didn’t fully understand it, but at least, he recognized the nature of his misunderstanding.

Teletha Testarossa was not a goddess. She was neither omnipotent, nor divine, nor an idol on a pedestal. She could behave unreasonably; she could also be injured by a careless word, lose her temper, and cry. She was no different than the students at his high school, or Chidori Kaname.

Now that he thought about it, these things had happened several times in the past. Why had it taken him so long to realize? And on top of that, she bore a burden heavier than anything he could conceive of.

“Of course, Colonel, ma’am.” The next thing he knew, the words had left his lips. “If... we are friends, might I speak freely for a moment?”

“What? Well... certainly.” Tessa straightened up slightly.

Now say it, Sagara Sousuke. How would you talk to a friend at school? You know this. How would a friend say it? He took in a deep breath, and then said, “Tessa... I’m sorry about everything.” These words made him much more nervous than yelling at General Amit.

“What?” It was Tessa’s turn to be surprised, now.

“I’m... always causing trouble for you,” Sousuke clarified. “You’re an amazing person. If I had to be in your place, I would have cracked from the pressure long ago. So... Tessa, I truly respect you. You’re more than just my superior. You’re a valuable comrade. If there’s ever anything I can do for you... please tell me. I’ll do all I can.”

Tessa spent an eternity staring at him in silence.

Now that the words were out of his mouth, he found himself flabbergasted at how wrong they sounded. Am I stupid? A nothing like me, speaking to her like I’m her equal... getting carried away with myself. I was definitely too informal. Ah, damn... “F-Forgive my impudence, ma’am,” he stammered into the oppressive silence, “but that is how I feel. Now... excuse me.” Unable to even look at her any longer, Sousuke fled the meeting room.

Behind him, there came a strange whooping noise, followed by the sound of high-heeled shoes jumping into the air, and then a chair crashing to the ground... but Sousuke barely heard it.