3: Two Captains

24 December, 2052 Hours (Japan Standard Time)

In front of the vault, Pacific Chrysalis

The safecracking looked like it would take some time, so on Mao’s suggestion, Kaname decided to go back to her schoolmates. Sousuke hurried to accompany her.

“It’s fine,” Kaname told him stiffly. “I can get back by myself.”

“No,” he insisted. “I’ll walk you.”

Just then, Kaname realized that Tessa, who’d been sulking over Mao’s patronizing treatment, was now glancing over at her. She couldn’t explain why, but it made her feel guilty. The treatment she got from Sousuke really did feel special, by comparison. He was biased in her favor, and that wasn’t fair at all. With that feeling nagging at her, she repeated, “I said it’s fine.”

“No, I’ll walk you.”

Sousuke refused to give in, so Kaname decided to give up on arguing and just start walking. Sousuke quietly accompanied her. The two walked away from the vault, then headed for the elevator that would return them to the upper deck.

I’m a pretty awful person, Kaname found herself thinking. Just an hour ago, she’d been saying all sorts of unfair things to Kyoko. “I don’t care about that jerk,” and, “He doesn’t really like me at all.” But now that she was seeing the bigger picture, she was realizing that she was the real jerk in this situation. And yet, she hadn’t apologized even once. She’d been attacking him every step of the way, and she’d even behaved cruelly to Tessa.

She had been angry and sarcastic, and even though Tessa was in a much more difficult position than she was, Kaname had actually been jealous of her. I really don’t get it, she thought in bewilderment. Why am I always like this?

“Maybe I’m just spoiled...” Kaname muttered to herself. That could be it. It could also be that today’s a special day. Or maybe I just don’t feel right when he’s not with me...

Still, she rationalized. I can’t let things stay like this forever. Isn’t that what I learned on that rainy day two months ago? Besides, I’m not sixteen anymore. With all that in mind, Kaname decided to speak up.

“Hey,” she said.

“Yes?” Sousuke inquired.

“Mm... nothing,” Kaname mumbled, chickening out.

“I see.”

Another long silence followed. They stopped in front of the elevator, pressed the call button to go up... and once more, Kaname forced herself to speak. “Hey,” she tried again.

“Yes?”

“Everything’s kind of turned into a mess, but...”

“Yeah.”

“I think I was... happy that you came, Sousuke,” she managed, then gently took his sleeve. She wasn’t yet ready to hold his hand.

A longer silence followed.

“Is... that weird?” Kaname asked. “Coming out of nowhere?”

“No... I don’t think it’s weird.” This time, it was Sousuke’s turn to stumble over his words. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“R-Really?”

“Yeah... hmm?” Sousuke cast a glance at the corner that joined the elevator hall to the corridor.

“What is it?” Kaname wanted to know.

“Nothing... Not an issue.”

Kaname tilted her head at him.

“It’s all right, I think,” Sousuke said reassuringly.

The elevator door opened with a ding. Once they were inside, Kaname got a second wind. “Um, say. You want to hit up the observation deck?” she asked, in an energetic voice. “There’s no hurry to get back to the others, right?” She held her finger over the topmost button, then waited to see his reaction.

“It’s true that there likely won’t be any more violence tonight, so it’s probably not an issue...” Sousuke pondered for a moment. “It will be cold outside, though.”

“That’s okay,” Kaname told him. “We won’t stay out too long.”

“I see. Wait just one minute.” Sousuke flipped his radio on and started a conversation with someone. It was all code names and jargon, and Kaname had no idea what any of it meant. At last, he said, “Uruz-7, roger. Thank you.” Then he shut off his radio and said to her, “Let’s go.”

Kaname broke out in a smile.

Corporal Yang of the SRT and Private Wu of the PRT walked along towards the crew quarters block, dragging Captain Harris along with them. It was a bare-bones corridor that went on and on. Since the area wasn’t used by passengers, it was full of exposed pipes and girders. There were no high-class furnishings to be found here, not even carpet.

“So, Corporal,” Wu was saying, “I told this little girl, ‘Listen, just because it’s Christmas, doesn’t mean you can go wandering around town at this hour. You never know what kind of scum might try to pick you up.’”

“Right,” Corporal Yang agreed.

“And, well... she was just eleven or twelve years old, you know? And she grins at me like Master Sergeant Mao...”

“She’s a lieutenant now, actually.”

“...And she pulls this huge revolver out of her bag. It’s a .38-caliber, five-inch barrel. She says, ‘Get lost, soldier boy. You’re getting in the way of my business.’”

“Wow...”

“It was an awful town,” Wu grumbled. “Makes a man doubt the existence of God. The only decent hospital was in my base, too.”

Yang and Wu were sharing Christmas memories.

“C’mon, Wu, don’t you have any more cheerful stories? This is just depressing... Hey, Captain. Can’t you walk any faster?” Yang said leisurely to Harris, who was moving sluggishly along, hands cuffed behind him, dragging his right leg.

“I got shot in the leg, remember? You could have at least prepared a stretcher!” Harris, still worked up about the shooting, snapped back at him.

“Listen to this needy old codger...” Wu put in. “Why’d we get stuck with this guy, Corporal?”

“No idea.” Yang sighed. “Darn it. I wish I was on Kurz’s team.”

“They get to go to a party full of teenage girls...”

While Wu and Yang were grumbling to each other, the masked Kurz Weber was standing on stage in the ballroom, singing passionately into the mike as he played the guitar. “Wow! Take me out trench! A fat cat in front of Maya says that! Yeah!” The Jindai High School students were cheering, clapping their hands and swaying to the beat.

“Wow! He’s really good!”

“Eee! That masked guy is so hot!”

“He sounds a little like a foreigner I met once...” Kyoko muttered, but nobody was listening to her.

“Thank you! Come on, everybody!”

Yang and Wu just sighed as they walked down the dark corridor, as if they really could hear Kurz carrying on.

“He brought a guitar, right?”

“Yeah, he knew he was gonna do it. That guy’s nuts.”

“And easy to flatter...”

“And always ready to show off...”

Just then, a noise came from a crew cabin nearby. It sounded like a pen falling to the floor, followed by a rustling of clothes.

“Uruz-9 to Uruz-1. Any friendlies in D30?” Yang whispered into the radio after a pause. He had already turned his submachine gun towards the cabin. It was loaded with non-lethal rubber bullets, but they would still hurt when they hit—a few rounds fired into someone’s face would feel like a pounding from a pro boxer. Wu pulled Harris in closer, while keeping an eye out in the other direction.

The number of hostages their teams had reported in was a match for crew and passenger rosters. There shouldn’t be anyone else wandering around in the ship besides them.

Lieutenant Clouseau responded immediately. “Uruz-9. Negative. Report your status.”

“We just heard a sound in one of the cabins,” Yang responded. “Investigating now.”

“No, leave that to someone else. Prioritize transporting the captain,” Clouseau ordered.

Yang clicked his tongue. “C’mon, they’ll get away by then... I’ll check it myself. If you don’t hear from me in one minute, surround the block. Out.”

“Wait—”

Yang turned off the radio, then signaled for Wu to stand by, and approached the cabin in question.

There was more faint rustling.

Yang took a deep breath, then opened the door, and stepped swiftly into the cabin. The only sign of life there was a white cat on the bed. Had someone brought it on board?

“It’s a cat,” Yang said after a long pause.

“A cat? Heaven’s sake...”

Yang slumped over, then turned back in the door to face Wu and the captain. Just then, he saw a large, muscle-bound man, holding a bucket over his head, appear behind Wu and Harris. “Wu, your six—”

His warning came too late; the bucket crashed down on Wu’s head, sending him stumbling and gurgling beneath the dirty water. “What?!”

“Wu?!” Though Wu and Harris were in his firing line, Yang didn’t hesitate to unload. They were just rubber bullets, anyway—they wouldn’t kill anybody.

“Ow, ow, ow!” screamed Wu, who was now wearing the bucket, while Harris hit the floor.

The attacker used Wu as a shield, then grabbed a wire hanging from the wall. “Take this, you damned terrorist!!” the man screamed, and pulled the wire with all his might. There was a metal clinking sound.

Yang was about to shout... and then another bucket fell down from the ceiling and landed straight on the top of his head. A limp crack filled the hallway.

Yang’s last thought before losing consciousness was, “I think I’ve seen this setup before...”

After giving a full beating to the be-bucketed terrorist—Wu, it seemed his name was—with his mop, Sailor cried out, “W-Well?! How do you like that?!” He then kicked the terrorist in the butt. The action was met with faint writhing and a moan.

“Hey, you! Are you the captain?” Sailor helped up the crew member, whose hands were cuffed behind his back.

“Ugh...”

“Don’t worry. I’m a friend. Killy B. Sailor, Commander, United States Navy. I’m the famous captain of the USS Pasadena, a tough-as-nails veteran who just happened to be on board. Once I get this all under control, I want you to introduce me to the media as, ‘the true patriot and iron man, Captain Sailor.’”

“R-Right...” Captain Harris agreed shakily.

Commander Sailor picked up the enemy’s machine gun and checked the remaining ammunition. Yeah, this’ll do fine, he told himself. The bullets aren’t the same color as the ones I used in standard training, but a real sea dog doesn’t sweat the details. “First, we need to make tracks. They’ll send reinforcements soon enough. You can walk, right? Actually, you’d better run.”

“W-Wait, sir,” Captain Harris managed to interject. “Could you take off my handcuffs, first?”

“Oh, for the love of... Fine, hold out your hands.” Commander Sailor pawed around the terrorist’s body, found a bunch of keys, and unlocked the captain’s cuffs. “Better? Okay, let’s go.”

“No, I need to find a radio and contact the outside,” Captain Harris announced bravely. “You should go on without me.”

“What are you talking about? You’re not safe alone,” Commander Sailor scoffed. “If you’re going for a radio, I’m coming with you.”

“I’m grateful for the sentiment, but no.” For some reason, the captain was adamant about going it alone. “This ship is like my second home; I know all the best hiding places. And we should avoid the chance of both of us getting caught at once.”

“Hmm...”

“We can meet up later,” Captain Harris suggested. “Do you know the shopping center? It has plenty of places to hole up and hide.”

“Understood,” Commander Sailor agreed gruffly. “Take care.”

“See you later,” the captain said. Then he turned around and started running. Sailor had no way of seeing the slight smile on his face.

Tessa returned to the vault from the corridor near the elevator hall. Mao, who was working busily on the lock, said to her immediately, “Hey, Tessa, quit hovering. I’ll call you once I’m in, so go somewhere and sit tight. Sheesh, you’re clumsy enough as it is...” She was so focused on the display, she didn’t even spare Tessa a glance. None of the other subordinates present paid her any mind, either. They were all too focused on their own tasks:

“I’m sorry, Colonel. Please get out of the way.”

“Colonel, ma’am. You’re in the way, standing there.”

“Sorry, Colonel, you’re distracting me.”

That’s what they all said. It annoyed her at first, but after being treated that way again and again, Tessa eventually lost the will to protest. She really was clumsy, after all, and she didn’t know anything about picking locks. The maid outfit she’d found so charming when she’d showed it to everyone before the mission now seemed silly and childish.

She tried asking if she should make some tea, and the response was an indifferent, “Hmm, if you want.” She asked if they’d like chamomile, and the response was an indifferent, “Whatever you like.” She felt like an absolute nuisance.

With a stinging sense of loneliness running through her, Tessa slumped over and headed for the crew kitchen on the same floor. It was a few minutes’ walk away, and turned out to be completely bare bones. She looked around for a tea set, but all she could find were coffee mugs.

Tessa sighed in resignation as she pulled out the small tin of herbal tea she’d brought with her. She took off her sunglasses and rubbed her eyes. She wasn’t going to cry, of course, but she did feel miserable. Come on, she told herself, We’re on a mission right now. She was the one acting unreasonably, here. She needed to stop acting like they were on a picnic, and appreciate her subordinates’ focus.

Still... I just feel so invisible. Today is supposed to be my special day, yet even Sousuke... He just ran off with that girl. And then in the elevator hall, they—

As she was gloomily filling the kettle with water, she got a call through her small earpiece radio. “Uruz-1 to all units. We have a situation.” It was from Lieutenant Clouseau on the bridge. “Uruz-9 and Kaun-28 were attacked near B19. Injuries were light for both, but the captain they were escorting was kidnapped. Be on your guard. Uruz-3’s team has the area surrounded, but he may have already escaped—”

Someone had attacked Corporal Yang and taken Captain Harris. Tessa cringed as she heard the announcement. Trouble had arrived. She had to cast aside her childish woes and get a grip.

Clouseau’s announcement continued. “—The attacker appears to be a passenger. Maybe he thinks he’s being a hero. Don’t kill him, or them. I repeat: do not kill the rogue element. The man who took Captain Harris is Caucasian, six feet tall, wearing a suit, with short black hair and a muscular physique. He stole a firearm, but it only contains nonlethal rubber rounds. I repeat. The attacker is Caucasian, six feet tall, wearing a suit—”

Tessa’s attention was snatched away from Clouseau’s communication. A man had just leaped into the kitchen. He was six feet tall, wearing a suit, Caucasian, with a muscular physique, and short black hair. On top of that, she had to say, he looked a bit like Arnold Schwartzenegger when he acted in comedies.

In other words, he looked just like the man from Clouseau’s report.

The man pointed a submachine gun (probably Yang’s) at her, and barked at the top of his voice, “Okay! Don’t you move, filthy terrorist!” Then he stopped and narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Tessa: a young girl, standing frozen in front of the stove, holding a large kettle and two mugs, and dressed as a maid.

“...Ah,” she said tactfully.

“Aren’t you part of the crew? What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, whipping his gun in various directions, with strangely exaggerated sweeps.

“Er... who are you?” Tessa tried again.

“It’s okay! I’m a friend,” Commander Sailor told her reassuringly. “Just a brave passenger who happened to be aboard. I just got done finishing off two of the terrorists!”

“What?”

“I also saved the captain, but he ran off on his own,” Sailor continued. “I’m a little worried... but eh, I’m sure he’ll make it out fine.”

He’d let Captain Harris—the Amalgam collaborator—run free? “Wh-What were you thinking?” Tessa demanded to know.

“Oh, don’t be a buzzkill. I’ve got the situation under control.”

“No, I don’t mean that—”

“Anyway, it stinks that my leading lady has to be a damned kid, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers,” Sailor grumbled to himself. “It’s dangerous here. Follow me.”

“Er... I don’t understand what you’re talking abo— ow, that hurts!” Tessa exclaimed in surprise. “Let me go! Wh-Where are we—”

Sailor began to march them along swiftly. “We’re getting out of here!” he exclaimed enthusiastically. “The terrorists are nearby! Good thing I found you first, or things would’ve gotten X-rated fast!”

“I don’t think that’s true. Um, please— ow, don’t yank my arm!” Tessa begged. “Stop this! Are you listening to me? Ow, ow...”

“Toughen up! This is life or death, okay? Pain comes with the territory! Get running, sailor! Show some balls!”

“I don’t have any balls!”

Tessa didn’t even have time to grab the submachine gun or sunglasses she’d left in the back of the kitchen. Dragged unwillingly by the hand and tripping over her unfamiliar high heels, she stumbled along behind him. All she could do as they went along was continue to protest, with tears in her eyes.

Same Timeframe

Observation Deck, Pacific Chrysalis

Kaname had been hoping for a romantic atmosphere, but the observation deck turned out to be dark, cold, and desolate. The bayside lights were no longer visible, the wind was biting cold, and the sound of the waves was more haunting than enchanting. This was the Sea of Japan sung about in enka ballads.

Feels more like the setup to a lovers’ suicide... The thrill she’d felt in the elevator was long gone. The scene, which was as far away from Christmas as you could imagine, had left Kaname completely numb.

“It’s a fine night,” Sousuke said, in complete defiance of her feelings. “I find climates like this very relaxing. Moonless nights are your ally, when it comes to running night raids. What do you think, Chidori?”

“What do I think?” Kaname parroted back. Still, it was unusual for Sousuke to be the one to speak first. She wondered if he was trying to cheer her up. “Well, it’s pretty cold, right?”

“Afghani winters are colder,” Sousuke shrugged.

“And windy.”

“Strong winds are frequently our ally. They mask our footfalls from enemy infantry.”

“I wish there were some nice light displays on the deck,” said Kaname, trying to change tack.

“We’re on alert,” Sousuke countered. “Illumination would be foolish.”

Kaname fell sourly silent. She just couldn’t get the conversation rolling, even though she was usually so good at facilitating these things.

Sousuke cleared his throat. “I’m reminded. Today is Christmas.”

“Huh?”

“In accordance with the custom of giving presents on Christmas, allow me to give you this.” Sousuke pulled a fountain pen from his pocket.

Kaname looked at it in confusion.

“It appears to be an ordinary fountain pen,” he went on. “But it contains a miniature stun gun. The output is 200,000 volts, but it only has the battery capacity for one or two uses. Don’t forget that.”

“Oh. Um... thanks,” Kaname said listlessly. The initial offer had made her heart skip a beat, but its result was frankly anti-climactic. Another self-defense tool—He’d given her any number of ‘platonic’ presents like this in the past. As this was supposed to be a Christmas present... well, she appreciated the sentiment, but couldn’t help feeling let down.

Again unaware of her feelings, Sousuke was embarking on a breathless explanation of how the weapon was used, when suddenly he got a call on his radio. “Wait a minute,” he told her. Then after a brief exchange, Sousuke grimaced.

“What’s wrong?” Kaname asked.

“Trouble,” he told her shortly. “I need to get to work.”

“Ah.”

“You should return,” he suggested. “I’ll escort you back to your classmates.”

The terrorists weren’t as good as Sailor had imagined them to be. They were pretty well organized, but their aim was crap, and they seemed surprisingly timid. It wasn’t just a hesitance to open fire—they actually seemed worried that they might hurt him or the maid. They’d get him surrounded like pros, but then in some critical moment, they’d always panic or back down.

“Don’t move! Stay where you— wait, Colonel? Owwww!” A terrorist that appeared around the corner of the hall took a hit from Sailor’s gun and fled.

“Graaaah!” Sailor howled, firing the submachine gun in his right hand and dragging the maid girl along with his left. “That’ll show you, you terrorist bastards! Try your worst! I’ll take you all on!”

“Erm, I won’t object to you fighting, if you wish, but could you please release me first?” Tessa requested.

“Yeah, fight me!” Sailor yelled, completely ignoring her. “Man-to-man! Sailor’s on the job!”

“He’s not even listening...” she sighed to herself.

“You sons of bitches! Take this! And this!” Sailor couldn’t even hear the maid’s pleas as he first sent his enemies scattering, then ran past them down the corridor.

After getting shot, the terrorists typically said things like, “Dammit, we’re taking it easy on him and it’s making him cocky...” but again, he wasn’t listening.

“Ahh, Corporal Howard— let me go, let me go!” The maid girl continued struggling, trying to escape Sailor’s grasp. He ignored her, turned to face an enemy appearing behind him, and fired. Just then, he heard a dull ‘whump.’

“Well? Don’t underestimate the United States Navy! You people are— hmm?” The maid had hit her head on a nearby pillar and fallen limp against his arm. She looked like a cartoon character seeing stars. Sailor stared at her for a moment, then shook it off. “Ah, whatever. Anyway, catch me if you can! You damned terrorist bastards!!” Still propping up the unconscious maid, Sailor kept firing and escaped from the block.

Same Timeframe

Passage C, Deck 3, Pacific Chrysalis

Harris held his breath and kept moving as he listened to the gunshots ring out in the distance. He’d nearly been discovered several times already, but of course, this was his ship, and he knew it by heart. It was full of passages that wouldn’t be marked on normal maps; largely maintenance spaces, hidden behind decorative fixtures, which made it possible for him to outwit his enemies and flee.

After all that, at last, he was able to calm down and think. No, he didn’t even have to think. This is not good, Harris realized. His plan had seemed perfect, yet they’d completely outmaneuvered him. He wasn’t expecting those people to raid the ship and take all the passengers hostage. It was utterly incredible.

At this rate, they’d not only expose the contents of the vault, but steal all kinds of data, too. Even if he got away and managed to hide... there was no way Amalgam would forgive this. They’d kill him, for sure.

So, what do I do now? Harris asked himself. Let them have their way, then go into hiding once he returned to port? No, that wouldn’t work... It would be difficult for a man acting alone to escape their grasp.

He’d have to make an unquestioned show of loyalty, while bringing them a present important enough to protect him from further sanction. To do that, first, he’d need to make contact. Then, he’d need to activate “them.”

As Harris moved through the cramped space above the ceiling, several times, he heard cautious footsteps approaching from close by; the enemy must be searching for him. When he finally reached the lifeboats, he couldn’t believe that he’d made it without being seen.

Truly, a Christmas miracle. God is watching over me! Harris thought cheerfully. He climbed into a lifeboat on the port-side observation deck, then groped around in the dark until he found its survival kit. Inside the sturdy case was a satellite transceiver. He didn’t have an exclusive secret channel, but he remembered the emergency frequency and code. He manipulated the radio uncertainly, until he got in touch with an Amalgam-backed relay station.

“Emergency message. It’s top priority. Hurry!” Harris hissed.

His direct superior responded shortly. “What is it?” came the executive’s electronically modified voice.

“Mr. Gold, I’m in trouble. Mithril got the drop on me. They took over my ship, and now they’re trying to break into the vault.”

The man on the radio hummed thoughtfully, as if carefully considering this information. Then he said, “So, what’s your plan?”

“W-Well—”

“You’re about to expose important tech and information to an enemy,” Mr. Gold said, cutting Harris off. “You used a dangerous channel to contact me, and you’re wasting my time to report it. Spit it out.”

“T-To capture the girl and escape,” Harris rushed to say. “If you’ll come and retrieve me. Please.”

“Can you do it?” Mr. Gold questioned.

“Yes,” Harris replied. There was no other answer he could give. “I’d also like permission to use the machines we loaded into the pantry the other day. If I can use those to distract the enemy, it will increase my chances of success.” A brief silence followed. To Harris, it felt like forever.

“Very well,” Mr. Gold finally allowed. “This kind of situation is exactly the reason we included them. As for the vault’s contents... there’s nothing to be done. I’ll explain things to the other executives; you focus on your job. I’ll inform you of the process for retrieval later.”

“Th-Thank you. I’ll make it work, I promise. Please know you have my undying loyalty—”

“I know. Hang up already.” The channel was closed before Harris could even respond.

Same Timeframe

Somewhere in East Asia

After Harris’s transmission ended, the various executive holograms attending the conference voiced their disapproval.

“What an absolute fool.”

“Doesn’t he realize the situation he’s put us in?”

“We can safely assume that the message was intercepted.”

“What a useful subordinate he’s been.”

Each of these statements was rife with sarcasm.

Mr. Gold just snorted, his expression unchanging. “I won’t deny that Harris is a fool,” he admitted. “But we can’t be certain that it was the plan that was flawed.”

“Nonsense. It’s clear we should have just abducted her while she was going about her daily life. It’s this roundabout nonsense that—”

“I agree. This has entered the realm of the absurd.”

“Why didn’t you report this plan to us, anyway? This could be taken as a breach of trust, you know.”

“If I’d told you, you’d have been against it,” Mr. Gold said with feigned innocence. “Leaving the girl at large gains us nothing. Don’t you think that the recent incident with Mr. Iron proved that?”

“Iron, eh? That damned traitor...”

“He basically killed Mr. Kalium.”

“That’s right. And there’s something else about this that doesn’t add up: why is it that out of everyone in Mithril, only the West Pacific Battle Group had such strong suspicions about that ship? Even Mithril’s intelligence division, led by General Amit, judged the Pacific Chrysalis a safe haven. Yet the Tuatha de Danaan managed to gain confirmation through their own solo investigation—with sufficient confidence to get them to greenlight a plan as bold as this. How did this happen? The most plausible explanation would be that someone leaked the information directly to them.”

One of them clicked his tongue. “Iron, I bet. Sounds like something he’d do.”

“He did try to burn down Hong Kong for the fun of it,” someone agreed.

The executives all shifted restlessly in their seats, perhaps imagining the thin, mocking smile of the dead man, Gauron. In retrospect, his Amalgam executive codename had taken on a bitterly ironic twist. Iron couldn’t mix with mercury—in other words, it couldn’t be part of an amalgam.

“So? What do we do now? Those Mithril bandits are going to get away with every scrap of information on that ship.”

“True. The facility doesn’t have much value to us anymore, but... I don’t like the idea of just letting them have their way.”

“You make it sound like you’ve already taken measures.”

“I’ve dispatched three flying craft to the area. Each has a Leviathan inside. They should arrive soon.”

“Going to sink the ship?”

“Of course.”

“What about Chidori Kaname? It’s all for nothing if she dies,” one said, and then they heard a chuckle. The hologram executives that ringed the round table all turned to look at one seat. All the seat contained were white letters that read “audio only.”

“What’s so funny, Mr. Silver?”

“She won’t die,” came the cool, elegant voice of a young man.

“How can you be so sure? Because she’s a Whispered, like you?”

“I’m afraid that’s not one of our powers, no. Let’s just call it... yes, a gut feeling,” Mr. Silver replied.

“Hmm...”

“Still... we do have those machines stored away in the ship’s pantry. Letting Harris activate them will make his job much easier.”

“The anti-personnel autonomous weapons?”

“Yes, twelve Alastors. They’ve been programmed to find, protect, and escape with Chidori Kaname.”

“You think those killer dolls are capable of such high-level judgments?”

“I wouldn’t call it high-level,” Mr. Silver denied. “Their ROEs are excessively simple.”

“What are their ROEs?”

“Why don’t you ask Mr. Gold?” The young man’s voice had a teasing tone, though there was a sliver of ice behind it.

The group turned back to Mr. Gold, who responded, indifferently, “‘Eliminate all obstacles. Kill anyone who gets in your way.’ That’s all.”

24 December, 2136 Hours (Japan Standard Time)

Pacific Chrysalis, Sea near Izu Archipelago

By the time Tessa had regained consciousness, the shooting had stopped. They must have completely shaken them off. She felt a little woozy from the blow to the head, but insisted she could walk on her own, and continued on, pulled along by the ‘rogue element.’ Unfortunately, she seemed to have dropped her radio in the earlier tumult.

While stumbling along, she managed to inquire as to the man’s identity. His name was Sailor, he was an American, and he had come here with one of his subordinates for Christmas break.

“So, honey, what’s your name?” Sailor asked, looking both ways cautiously before turning a dark corner.

“Er... Mantissa. Teletha Mantissa,” she said, giving him a fake name she used from time to time.

“I see. Well, honey, stay close behind me. Don’t worry, I’m a veteran. Those terrorists don’t— hey, where are you going?” Tessa had begun striding in the other direction, but Sailor grabbed her by the back of the collar.

“W-Well, we had made our introductions, so I thought we might part ways here...” Tessa found it impossible to pry the large man off of her. She thought about calling out, but for some reason, this was one time when there were no allied footsteps drawing near. What she needed to do was get away and report the man’s location to their teams.

“Don’t be stupid!” Sailor growled at her. “Now, come on.”

“Ahh, but... but I don’t think we should go that way...” Tessa protested. Sailor was heading for the shipboard shopping center; it was the block they’d designated as being the most difficult to secure in their pre-mission discussion. The shopping center was large, with a complicated layout that compromised visibility. It had a lot of exits, too, so it would be easy to escape from, and it was loaded with resources that could be used to make traps.

“Why don’t we go that way instead? I think it would be better for both of us...” She pointed towards the gym one deck up. That one was a dead end; her allies would be able to corral Sailor and capture him quickly.

“That’s a dead end,” he told her. “We’d be trapped like rats.”

“Ohh... I see. Then why don’t you simply throw down your weapon and surrender? I don’t think they’re as villainous as you think they are, Sailor-san,” Tessa suggested.

Sailor’s response was a condescending snort. “You’re naive. They’re like the Devil himself, same as all terrorists. Some civilian maid couldn’t understand. Or what? Have you fought terrorists before?”

“Yes, I’m afraid I have. More times than I’d like to— ow!” Tessa let out a small cry as he bopped her on the head. “What are you doing?!” she challenged him, tears in her eyes.

“Don’t make fun of me, stupid!”

“I’m not!”

“I can tell you’re out of your depth, so just shut up and follow me,” Sailor told her. “Got that?! If you try to run, I’ll shoot you!”

“This is absurd...” Tessa grumbled, while considering her options. Perhaps, at this stage, it would be wiser to stay with him and try to keep the situation under control. She couldn’t get in touch with her allies just yet, but she might still get a chance to use a shipboard telephone.

From what she’d seen, the ground teams had been caught off-guard by the amateur’s rampage. But they weren’t incompetent, and they wouldn’t keep losing forever. Besides, they probably weren’t particularly worried about her, anyway...

“Ah, very well,” Tessa capitulated. “Let’s hide somewhere and wait for our chance.”

“Good, glad you see things my way. Now, let’s go.” Sailor started moving, finally, dragging the stalling Tessa along.

Once he had the despondent Yang and Wu in front of him, Lieutenant Clouseau found he’d lost the will to yell.

“There’s no excuse for how badly we’ve failed...”

“We’ll take any punishment you dish out...”

They were still in the place where the ambush had happened, a corridor in the crew block. Despite standing at full attention like proper soldiers, they seemed terrifyingly deflated.

“Your punishment can wait until after this is over. Go run security on the cargo hold.” At Clouseau’s order, Yang and Wu offered a salute, then ran off.

“He might not be cut out for it after all,” First Lieutenant Castello, who’d accompanied Clouseau, said after they were gone. He was the PRT’s commander, and had the call sign Uruz-3. He was in his mid-30s, of Latin descent, and lanky, with a goatee.

“Yang, you mean?” Clouseau clarified.

“Yeah. Any other SRT member would’ve neutralized that guy, even at the risk of killing him. But he couldn’t do it. It’s more than just a matter of being caught off-guard.”

“I did forbid them from causing casualties,” Clouseau said. “Maybe that’s why.”

“That’s no excuse,” Castello scoffed. “Being part of the SRT means ignoring orders if necessary, even if that gets you a reprimand. Though obviously, we can’t just tell them that...”

Clouseau said nothing in response.

“Yang has skill and experience, but he lacks the mindset needed,” Costello continued to argue. “We should drop him back to the PRT.”

“We’ll need Major Kalinin’s input to decide,” Clouseau told him. “When this operation is over—” Just then, he received a transmission. It was from Sousuke’s team, which was searching for the rogue element.

“Uruz-7 here. Sorry I’m late. Someone’s emptied out a lifeboat. They took a satellite transceiver. Be careful.” The line was staticky, due to an allied helicopter jamming satellite transmissions above.

“Uruz-1, roger. The de Danaan intercepted their message, and we’ve got a Pave Mare jamming appropriate frequencies now. Don’t worry about communications; expand the dragnet and get searching.”

“Roger.”

After Sousuke signed off, Clouseau clicked his tongue. “That’s not good. In hide-and-seek, Harris has the advantage.”

If this had been a normal ship, they’d probably be able to find Harris without much effort. But the Pacific Chrysalis was extremely large; it was effectively a floating city. They didn’t have enough people to cover it all. And until the ship was secured, they’d need to spare most of their forces monitoring “hostages.”

“Don’t panic. From what I can see, the aggressor is a total amateur. He can’t cause too much trouble,” Castello was saying, but just then, they got a call from Mao.

“Uruz-2 here. More trouble. We’ve lost Ansuz. We found her things left in the crew kitchen. I think that wannabe John McClane took her.”

Mao was referencing the protagonist of the movie Die Hard, which had been a big hit a while back. It was about a one-man army who fought his way through a building occupied by terrorists.

“We already know she’s with the McClane-wannabe,” Clouseau retorted sharply. “That’s part of our trouble. Why did you let her out of your sight, anyway?”

“Well... ah, I screwed up!” Mao admitted. “The vault was giving me more trouble than I’d anticipated, and I got so tied up working on it...”

This reminder of their other problem prompted Clouseau to ask, “How much longer will it take?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “It might all go as scheduled, or we might be three hours late.”

“Fantastic,” Clouseau grumbled. “By that time, the Japanese Coast Guard will have us surrounded.”

“I told you, I’m hurrying. I’m worried about Tessa, though... She really is clumsy and useless on land. Find her quick, okay?” Mao was apparently still working on the vault as they spoke. Her words were brisk... but she also seemed distracted. She probably wanted to join the search herself.

“I know,” Clouseau told her. “Don’t worry about the colonel. Leave it to me and focus.”

“Thank you.”

With the transmission over, Clouseau groaned. His stomach was churning. This had never happened before. “If it’s not one thing, it’s another...”

“That’s just how things are.” Castello shrugged. “I’ve never seen an operation go entirely according to plan.”

Then Clouseau got another call. This time, it was from Kurz Weber. “Uruz-6 here. We’ve got trouble!”

“What is it now?” Clouseau demanded.

“The kids polished off all the food,” Kurz reported. “They’re demanding more to eat. Can I let the cooks into the kitchen?”

“I don’t care, you idiot!” Clouseau shouted, then turned off the radio.

After they entered the shopping center, Sailor made a beeline for the indulgence item section.

“Er, Sailor-san. What are you looking for?” Tessa asked.

The response was immediate. “Booze,” he told her. “Vodka, if they’ve got it.”

“You can’t mean—”

“Yeah, I’m making Molotovs. I’m way under-armed, here.”

“Don’t do that!” Tessa protested. “You could really hurt someone!”

“You bet your ass,” Sailor told her. “I’m fighting bad guys, remember? Terrorists screaming and burning and falling into the ocean... yeah, it’ll be a beautiful sight. You get searching too! Go on!”

They ended up finding about ten bottles of Spyritus, a rectified spirit that was about 96% alcohol. They could stick a rag in, light it, and throw it, and end up with a Molotov cocktail.

Sailor got some handkerchiefs and towels from other stalls and started about his work. Tessa didn’t like it, but she eventually decided to help him out.

After finishing three Molotovs, Sailor cursed. “Dammit. I can’t open the stopper. Hand keeps slipping...”

Curious, Tessa peered at the man’s hand in the darkness and was surprised by what she saw; Sailor’s right hand was covered in blood. “That’s awful!” she said. “When did you hurt yourself?”

“During the fight,” he admitted. “Guess I just caught it on something...”

“Why didn’t you say something earlier?!” Tessa scolded. “We need to get you to the infirmary!”

“Are you nuts?” Sailor asked incredulously. “They’ve got a dragnet out! Besides, this is nothing!”

“Then take your jacket off,” she demanded. “I want to see the wound.” Tessa had some basic knowledge of first aid, and she’d even sat in on some surgeries to try to build up her nerve.

“It’s none of your business,” Sailor told her. “Besides, you’re a maid, not a nurse. So be a maid, shut up and make Molotov cocktails!”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Tessa argued back. “Just let me see it!”

“H-Hey!”

Tessa forced Sailor’s suit jacket off, then grabbed his burly right arm in her hands. The inside of his dress shirt—mainly the lower half, up to his elbow—was wet with blood. There were about five or six other interlocking cuts there.

“Do you know the place to press to stop the bleeding?” Tessa lectured at him. “It’s here. Press down on it, hard.”

“R-Right...” Sailor agreed uneasily.

“Harder,” she ordered. “Until you feel the bone.”

When Tessa touched the inside of his upper arm, Sailor looked slightly distressed. “I... I know that!”

“For heaven’s sake... I don’t know how you managed to run around bellowing with a wound like that...” Was he stubborn, or just slow on the uptake? Tessa sighed as she tore up a nearby towel.

“How do you think?” Sailor replied stiffly. “I’m a Navy man, remember? I can’t cry over one little cut.”

“The Navy? Are you with the United States military?”

“That’s right. I’m on leave. In fact, I’m— gwah!” Sailor screamed as she pressed a vodka-soaked rag to the wound.

Tessa giggled. “I thought a true sea dog never cried.”

“Why, you little—”

So he was with the US Navy. Judging by his behavior, he had to be an NCO, perhaps around warrant officer level—an old man barking orders at sailors in an old-fashioned vessel, or in the base, managing shipments... something like that. Though, he didn’t seem quite tan enough for that...

Is he a desk jockey? Tessa wondered as she tore a towel into strips to serve as bandages.

“I can’t figure you out,” Sailor said suspiciously. “You’re more clear-headed than I’d expect from a maid.”

“Am I?” she wondered.

“Most people would be scared shitless by all this. But here you are, barely batting an eye... You remind me of one of my men,” Sailor told her.

“He must be a very fine man,” Tessa said, and Sailor scowled.

“Yeah, right. He’s awful.”

“Oh?”

“He argues with me about every little decision,” Sailor grumbled. “He doesn’t respect me as his superior. It’s unspeakable! He doesn’t pay me one mite of respect.”

“I see. Even without knowing all the details, I think I understand how you feel.” Tessa let out a deep sigh.

“Ohh, I see. You understand?”

“Yes,” Tessa admitted. “It’s awful when your underlings don’t respect you.”

“No kidding,” Sailor agreed forcefully. “It’s horrible, and Takenaka just doesn’t understand!”

It was just around the same time that the XO of the US Navy nuclear attack submarine Pasadena, Lieutenant Marcy Takenaka, was enjoying a pleasant chat with a beautiful woman across a dinner table. “You know,” he said, “this is a lot more laid-back than I would have expected from a seajacking.”

“Yes, I agree,” the woman nodded. She was dressed in a black evening gown and wearing fashionable glasses. “The terrorists have been so accommodating,” she went on. “‘Let us know if you get bored,’ and such. It’s such a relief... although I’m still going to file a massive complaint with the operations division when it’s all over.” That last sentence was muttered, barely audible. A vein in her forehead twitched slightly as she said it.

“Huh?”

“Oh, nothing. By the way, where is the man you were with earlier, Takenaka-san?”

“I couldn’t say,” Takenaka said, as he savored another bite of thick, juicy steak. “He’s probably in one of the phone corners, sorting out finances with the wife who ran off on him.”

“Oh, the poor thing.”

But Takenaka wagged his finger at the woman’s show of sympathy. “Oh, no, he completely deserves it. He’s a stubborn ass who never listens to anyone. I’m sure she was just at her wits’ end.”

“Really?”

“Really. It’s hard enough working with the man. I can’t imagine being married to him.”

“Oh, dear...” the woman said.

“He’s my superior, but he finds fault with every single thing I do,” Takenaka went on. “He treats his subordinates like we’re incompetent. It’s horrible. We don’t get any respect.”

“That certainly does sound hard...” she said cautiously.

“Tell me about it. It’s awful! But he doesn’t understand that.” Takenaka stopped himself and shook his head. “Anyway, enough of that. Let’s enjoy our dinner.”

“Good idea. It seems that contrary to expectations, I’m not going to have anything to do tonight, so I might as well take it easy,” the woman agreed.

“Huh?”

“Oh, nothing. Now, do tell me more, Takenaka-san,” the woman said with an enchanting smile.

“The truth is, I face a similar matter in my own workplace,” Tessa admitted, after listening to Sailor’s story.

“Oh?” he questioned.

“As you can see, I’m quite young, and my elders frequently treat me like an incompetent. I believe they consider me unsuited to my position...”

“Huh. The maid business is more complicated than I thought.”

“I’m perpetually unappreciated, no matter how many times I prove myself,” Tessa continued. “I’m treated as a nuisance in all situations. It’s truly frustrating to me...”

Sailor nodded in hearty agreement. “Ah, I hear you,” he said sagely. “I worked my way up from seaman, too. It was a hell of a fight to get where I am today. The Annapolis guys under my command treat me like some know-nothing novice.”

“Er?” Tessa’s jaw dropped as she heard Sailor’s words. “Y-You’re an officer?”

“That’s right. Surprise, I’m a commander. And this might not mean anything to a civvie like you, but... I’m captain of one of those upgraded Los Angeles-class nuclear subs.”

“What?!” Tessa asked. He serves on a submarine... and he’s its captain? But it was Sailor’s next words that really threw Tessa for a loop:

“By the way, the sub’s name is the Pasadena,” he nattered on. “It’s part of SUBPAC...” He stopped, noticing her reaction. “What’s with you? Did your whole face just have a spasm? And you’re looking queasy, too...” Sailor peered at Tessa with a scowl. She was pale and sweating.

How can this man be captain of the Pasadena? Tessa wondered. The United States nuclear submarine that tried to sink us during the Perio incident in August... “Y-You mean, you’re...” she began to ask.

“Am I what?”

“You’re... the captain?” she managed, and Sailor took offense.

“Oh, what, you don’t believe me?” he demanded. “As a matter of fact, I’m one of a damn few submarine captains with live combat experience! Just a few months ago, I wound up in an engagement with this dirty, cheating hulk of an enemy sub. I sent that sucker in a rout and saved one of our boys above! Got me a Silver Star for that one. Really something, eh?” He stopped himself. “Ah, crap. Forget I told you that. It’s supposed to be classified.”

Now it was Tessa’s turn to take offense. “Wait a minute. What do you mean, ‘dirty, cheating’ sub? And you did not rout me! I dodged both of your torpedoes! How dare you trivialize my skills! Besides, there were other factors at play at the time!”

Sailor just looked confused. “What the hell are you talking about?” He seemed baffled by her interruption.

Tessa snapped out of her indignation and stammered, “Oh. Er. Well...”

“Well?” he pushed.

“Er, that’s classified,” Tessa apologized. “Please forget I said it.”

Sailor just shook his head. “Okay, whatever you say.” He didn’t really seem like the detail-oriented type; Tessa wondered how a man like him had ever made it to command.

Well, life was complicated, of course. Despite its overwhelming presence on the world stage, the US military could be surprisingly inefficient and bureaucratic. Not everything it did was necessarily logical, and perhaps certain fates had conspired to allow a short-fused man like him rise up in the ranks. Still, there was one thing that didn’t quite add up.

“But Sailor-san,” Tessa asked. “What is an American like you doing on this cruise? Wouldn’t it have been easier and safer for you to take a trip around the Caribbean than to come all the way to Japan?”

Tessa’s question brought a scowl to Sailor’s face. “Hmm... well, there’s a few reasons for that,” he admitted reluctantly.

“What kind of reasons?”

“Well, back in the day, I was stationed at Yokosuka,” Sailor reminisced.

“Ahh.”

“It was years ago, now, but the first sight I ever officially saw through a periscope as a captain was Hachijojima in the distance,” he continued. “The weather was shit, and there wasn’t much to see... but it really got to me. Made me realize how far all my hard work had brought me. I can still remember that sight; those flickering lights from the civilian houses.”

Tessa could imagine how he felt: looking through a control room periscope wasn’t something just anyone was allowed to do. For someone who had clawed his way up from seaman to command, it must have been an unspeakably moving sight.

“I wanted my wife to see what I’d seen,” Sailor told her. “It’s a common tale for submariners, but I’m on the verge of divorce. It’s been a real deep freeze for a while now, and for lack of any better ideas, I thought I could maybe give her a sense of how important my work was to me. That must sound like something a dumb kid would do, I guess.”

It was indeed a childish thought. But if she were in his place, Tessa thought, she might have done something similar. “Then, your wife is on board with you?” she asked.

“No...” Sailor let out a small sigh. “I got back from work the morning we were supposed to head out, and found her bedroom cleaned out.”

Tessa fell silent.

“Looking back now, I can see that she was never gonna come along at all. I tried to call her earlier, but... all we did was scream at each other. Don’t know why I bothered; I know she’s got another guy.” His words were hollow and desolate. Sailor’s expression, previously so animated, had seemed to age decades in a matter of minutes. “Just your nice, basic landlubber. Sets my teeth on edge, but there’s nothing to be done.”

“Nothing at all?” Tessa asked, breathlessly.

“Yeah,” Sailor sighed. “Fighting it’s no good.”

For some reason, a song began playing in Tessa’s mind. It was a sad blues melody she’d heard a long time ago—Sho Nuf I Do, by Elmore James.

I love her even if she doesn’t love me. Even if it’s hopeless, I still love her. That was what the lyrics meant. Remembering that tune, so out-of-place on Christmas, she turned her eyes downward.

“I’m in a similar situation,” she found herself saying again. I’m just like Commander Sailor. We’re both haunted by the same demons...

Sailor cast a glance at Tessa. “Got a guy you like, huh?”

“Yes. But he...” It had fallen out of her mind in all the chaos, but now Tessa remembered. After they’d parted ways at the vault, she’d followed after Kaname, hoping to chat with her. As a result, she’d overheard their conversation in front of the elevator.

That awkward conversation between Sousuke and Kaname... Even the world’s most oblivious person would have been able to pick up the special vibe between them, and it had driven home to Tessa that she had no place there.

He really doesn’t see me at all, she’d realized. He only sees her... That was right. “I think I’ve lost him entirely,” she lamented.

“Ah. Well... if it’s your gut telling you that, it means you probably have,” Sailor agreed sadly.

“Yes...”

Sailor thumbed subtly at the tears forming in his eyes, then hesitated a moment, and said, “I’m not exactly Mr. Romantic Experience here, but... you’re young, and you’re really nice. You’ll find a better guy in no time.” It was the most heartfelt thing he’d said yet.

“Do you really think so?” Tessa asked quietly.

“Yeah. Just make sure he’s a proper sea dog,” Sailor advised. “Landlubbers can’t be trusted.”

Tessa giggled, and smiled teasingly, at last. “Perhaps I’ll consider you, then, Sailor-san.”

But Sailor just waved dismissively. “Not gonna happen. One, I don’t go for kids. Two, I like brunettes with big tits.” He cackled.

Tessa scowled at him. “Are you completely unaware of social graces?” she grumbled, but Sailor just kept laughing.

One of the cooks in the back of the kitchen called out, “Hey, you, guitar-playing terrorist guy. Yeah, you. I need some cans of whole tomatoes. Can you bring me as many as you can find in the back?”

“Sure. Whole tomatoes, huh?” Kurz, still wearing his mask and his rifle on a strap over his shoulder while he packed in some leftover canapes, clapped his hands together, then went searching around the kitchen shelves. “Huh... I only see two left.”

The cook, standing in front of the bubbling, steaming pot, let out a moan. “Are you kidding me? Ugh, dammit. That’s right. It’s not our usual crowd. Can’t believe how fast those high school kids can pack it in, though...”

“That’s puberty for you,” Kurz said sympathetically.

“Sorry, but could you fetch some from the hold below?” the cook begged. “I need about two boxes’ worth. This stew’s no good without tomatoes.”

“You got it,” Kurz promised. “Whereabouts would I find them?”

“It should be obvious enough once you’re down there,” the cook told him. “They’ve got signs posted around with dates and contents.”

“Roger that.” Kurz asked the PRT soldier in the kitchen with him to hold down the fort, then headed for the cargo hold alone. He passed through a dim passage, then down some stairs. He’d heard about the attack on Yang and Wu, so he had to stay vigilant.

The ship was full of storage rooms. The one right below the kitchen was filled with shelf-safe ingredients for the grand ballroom, furniture of various sizes, and stage equipment. He expected Yang and Wu would be on patrol in the area right about now.

Kurz turned his radio on. “Uruz-6 to Uruz-9. I’m heading your way. Don’t shoot me by accident.” There was no response.

“Yang-kun,” he tried again. “Where’s that reply? Teacher’s gonna mark you absent...” No response. It was strange. Normally, Yang’d have responded ‘Uruz-9, roger’ immediately.

“Uruz-9, respond. Uruz-9.” Kurz decided to stop playing around and call him one more time, but there was still no response. He had no more luck with attempts to contact Wu, who should have been with him.

He then called in to operations HQ on the bridge. “Uruz-6 to HQ. Code 11. Area C3. Tighten the ring.”

“HQ, roger. Be careful,” Clouseau responded.

Did that amateur get you again? C’mon, guys... Tightening his hold on his rifle’s grip, Kurz approached the hold. The gun’s long barrel made the corridor feel especially narrow.

Tonight, Kurz’s weapon of choice was an assault rifle with an automatic function; a German-made one with a 7.62mm barrel. It had been modified to increase its accuracy, but it wasn’t a sniper rifle—long-range guns were useless in an enclosed space like this.

He approached the door to the cargo hold and listened. He could hear a low whirring sound—almost, but not quite, like the buzz of fluorescent lights—and the faint splash of footsteps in water.

No... whatever that was, it was more viscous than water. There was something almost sticky about it. He couldn’t explain why, but the presence didn’t feel human. Strange. Well, wondering about it won’t do any good, he told himself. Kurz took in a deep breath, opened the door wide, and stepped into the hold.

The cargo hold, illuminated dimly, was larger than he’d expected. It was a high-ceilinged room, full of neat lines of small cargo containers, palettes stacked high with cardboard boxes, and furniture, some with glass and mirrors.

Too many blind spots... Kurz moved further into the hold, readying his rifle carefully.

One of the containers on his left side was open. He looked over, curiously. No, it wasn’t simply open—the door was bent and twisted, as if it had been torn off of its hinges. Something inside the container had forced its way out. Something terribly strong.

He had a bad feeling about this. It was a sensation one couldn’t acquire through training alone. It wasn’t a sense of the civilian, Harris, hiding somewhere and watching him. It was something much worse.

Kurz made it to the back of the hold, where the dim light picked up something glimmering on the floor. Some kind of viscous red fluid had been scattered forcefully across several meters. It hung on the walls, the girders, and even the containers across from him.

Is that... blood? Intestines...? Then, even further in, behind a crushed cardboard box, he could see the leg of someone standing there. Was that what had made the squishing sound before? “...Yang?”

It was almost as if a person had exploded—

Suddenly, Kurz found himself leaping to the side. A high-caliber bullet tore through the place he’d been standing a moment before, and hit the floor. It kicked up a cloud of dust as the low, muffled gunshot reached his ears.

He came out of a roll, then pointed his rifle in the direction of the shot. The mysterious attacker leaped at him immediately and swiped his gun aside. The power on display was incredible—it bent Kurz’s rifle in the middle and sent it flying into the wall. Kurz’s hand was stinging, with a dull pain running down his index finger.

He caught a glimpse of the attacker, a large man in a coat. Was this the passenger Yang had mentioned? No... this wasn’t a passenger. It wasn’t even human!

Kurz let out a grunt as he dodged. The fist scraped by him and hit the container beyond with an ear-rending screech. The burly figure’s blows had the power of a sledgehammer. There was nowhere left to run, and the man’s other hand seized Kurz by the neck.

“Gn...” Kurz gurgled. The man then began to lift, and Kurz’s feet left the floor. The stranger’s strength was overpowering, unrelenting and brutal. Kurz’s vision clouded. His struggles were in vain. He couldn’t breathe, and he could feel his spine creaking.

All Kurz could see in his blurring vision was the face of his enemy. It was a simple, blank mask, with a horizontal slit glowing red where the eyes should be. No mouth, no nose. Expressionless. Completely expressionless.

It could kill him and not feel a thing.