Using the onomatopoeia that Chidori Kaname was once so fond of, this is when she’d say, ‘Vroom, splat!’
The silence after the sound of her fall... It was quiet. Painfully quiet. The crew must have been terribly rattled; they’d been ordered to attention, so they couldn’t actually move. How many seconds did she spend just lying there on the floor?
Mardukas was the first to speak. “Captain?”
“I... I’m fine,” she responded at last. Her mind continued to work at top speed, searching for a way to navigate the situation. She’d completely lost her cool.
What to do? I’ve ruined everything, and at the worst possible time... This was supposed to be my final briefing, Tessa thought hysterically. I’ve never tripped during one of these before, have I? I’m usually so careful... but I let my guard down. It was that unsteady ramp. Yes, it’s the ramp’s fault... I should execute it immediately. Wait, what am I thinking? Calm down. Steady. Regain your dignity. Don’t show them you’re shaken. Be calm; act like you meant to do that... Oh, but who means to fall?! It’s hopeless! There’s no way to excuse it! Ah, it’s all ruined. Hurry, hurry... Do something!
A way to restore my dignity. A way to restore my dignity. A way to restore my dignity—
There was nothing she could do. It was time to just accept it. Tessa picked herself up despondently, and turned back to face her subordinates with slumped shoulders. They were all still at attention, their faces expressionless. They’re probably disgusted, she thought, staring blankly into thin air...
No... When she looked at the people in the front row, she saw a few shoulders trembling. Others’ neck muscles were pulsing rapidly. Their lips were drawn into sharp lines and their nostrils were flaring. Soldiers, when told to stand at attention, absolutely couldn’t move. Yet it was clear to her, now, that they were all trying desperately not to laugh.
What in the world? I’m standing in front of a group of perfectly mature adults lined up like mannequins, trying desperately not to laugh, waiting politely for words from a little girl who can’t even walk without tripping. And they all believe that doing that is absolutely righteous and praiseworthy.
They’re all so stupid. And so am I.
The grim show of pride and grand speech she’d been prepared to put on just moments ago from that platform suddenly seemed utterly absurd.
How absurd am I? Did I think I was a saint? What’s a clumsy person like me acting so high and mighty for?
I just need to tell them the truth.
“Um...” Tessa cleared her throat and looked around. “You’re all officially fired. Thank you for your service.” With that, she walked back down off of the makeshift stage.
Mardukas’s eyes widened, but he snapped back to attention and raised his voice to say, “Dismissed!”
A ripple shot through the crowd. There were a few stifled laughs, a few murmurs of confusion, and a few knowing chuckles. Mysteriously, she heard no sounds of censure. Not that it mattered now.
Ah, of course... I’ve been so afraid all this time of disappointing them. That battle is over now, too. I can just do whatever I want. Whatever I want...
Tessa caught sight of Mao, who was standing in the crowd of chatting soldiers. Their eyes met for just a second. Tessa shrugged and smiled at her, but Mao just looked very sad.
Then, without a word exchanged with anyone, Tessa left the flight deck.
The five Pave Mare transport helicopters left the flight deck and retreated into the western sky with Mao, Clouseau, and the rest of the ground forces on board. The Bernie Worrell’s engines roared out as it pulled away from the de Danaan. Having received their notice from Tessa, most of the departing crew were lined up on the deck, shouting and waving their hats.
Sousuke, who remained on the de Danaan, just raised his fist in response. Beside him, Ed Sachs was much more emotional, and made a bigger show of waving his burly arms. He was the only member of the maintenance team remaining on board. Technical officer Nora Lemming had boarded the supply ship with the rest of his crew, and she was leaning listlessly on the railing, staring back at him.
The Bernie Worrell eventually left their sight and the flight deck began to close. Alarms rang out as the massive hatch slid into its closed position, and the patch of sunset sky above them grew thinner and thinner.
“Why did you stay?” Sousuke asked.
Sachs stroked his beard thoughtfully. “I had a little unfinished work to do.”
Sousuke watched him quietly.
Sachs shrugged. “Okay, right, I’m just trying to sound cool. The truth is, Tessa ordered me to stay. Pretty cruel of her; I’ve got two kids and a potential new mother for them.” Despite his complaints, though, Sachs didn’t seem especially upset about it. He actually seemed a little relieved, in a self-deprecating kind of way. “I might have stayed even if she hadn’t ordered me, though. So, you know... I’m grateful for the excuse to gripe about it. Anyway, let’s get back to work.”
Sachs headed for the stairs that led to the hangar deck below. It was around that moment that the large hatch above closed with a clang. Locking mechanisms slid into place to ensure the hatch remained watertight, and the hum of motors came over the deck here and there.
“I’ll help, too,” Sousuke offered.
“Don’t be stupid. We don’t need you poking around, do we, Al?” Sachs asked into the headset hanging on his neck.
《The lieutenant is correct, Sarge. Please focus on your psychological preparation.》 Sousuke heard Al’s voice in his own headset.
The work of attaching the emergency deployment booster to the Laevatein on the hangar deck below them still wasn’t done. The rest of the maintenance crew had disembarked, so Sachs would have to do it all by himself.
“You heard him,” said Sachs. “Now, quit nagging like an old lady and do as you’re told.”
“All right, then,” Sousuke said after a pause, leaving Sachs behind and heading for the living quarters in the rear. None of the regulars passed him on the way. With the place running on a skeleton crew, the de Danaan was almost like a ghost ship.
Sousuke decided to stop by the galley in the mess hall. Kasuya, the regular cook, had disembarked with the rest, so he thought he might cook something for those who’d remained aboard.
This turned out not to be necessary, either. Sousuke wasn’t sure when he’d had the time to prepare it, but Kasuya had left plenty of food in the galley to keep them fed for at least a few days. There was a giant pot of curry, portions of frozen white rice, and a variety of breads, salads, vegetable soups and pasta sauces. He’d left a note on the wall politely explaining how to heat it all up and serve it, and where the plates and cooking tools could be found. The last words on the note were, “Good luck.”
That’s right, Sousuke remembered. I fought that traitor Dunnigan here in the galley. Kaname was huddled up next to that refrigerator, crying, while I apologized to her again and again...
“It’s ironic,” Sousuke muttered. It was always in situations like those when Kaname and I could share our real feelings with each other. Danger, emergencies, crises... It was always at the times you’d say, “Now’s not the time,” that we’ve been able to speak most openly.
In a sense, we always hoped for danger. If we ever get another chance to speak, will it have to be in another such situation?
He had no idea.
She’s not in her right mind now, anyway, he reminded himself. She seems to believe she’s acting rationally, but she’s actually being controlled by some other consciousness. Not even Tessa knows how to bring her back. Is it possible that it’s too late? Will the girl I knew never return? Is all of this utterly futile?
“This isn’t good...” Sousuke took a deep breath and began to massage his temples. He was about to enter a difficult battle, yet he couldn’t concentrate at all. The way ahead felt so murky that he had no confidence in his footing, and he felt like he couldn’t take one step forward.
Do I really agree with what Tessa is doing? he questioned suddenly. Why won’t she even ask me? Hasn’t she considered that I might sympathize with our enemy? Mira’s letter hung in the back of his mind. Why not simply do nothing and let Leonard and the others have their way?
Sousuke left the mess hall and headed for the SRT duty room. Once there, he retrieved his faithful Glock 19 from his weapons locker and loaded it with 9mm bullets. He didn’t use a holster, but just hid it behind his back, under his battledress shirt, so no one would know it was there unless they touched him.
With his gun hidden away, Sousuke headed for the control room. He reached the area that only authorized personnel were supposed to enter while the submarine was on maneuvers. As a sergeant with the ground forces, Sousuke didn’t have that clearance, and it was forbidden to carry guns there unless it was an emergency.
Who cares? he told himself defiantly, and then entered the control room.
Tessa, Mardukas, and the other control room staff turned to look at him questioningly. “Sagara-san...?”
Sousuke didn’t respond immediately. With his usual sullen expression, he looked around the room, and tried to envision it—Pulling out his gun, walking up to Mardukas, pushing him into the officer of the deck... then pressing the gun to Tessa’s temple and telling her, “Don’t move.” It seemed easy enough.
“Sergeant Sagara. Who authorized you to be here?” Mardukas asked. His voice wasn’t critical, but it was cautious. The man wasn’t stupid. He was probably considering the possibility of what Sousuke was about to do.
No... Sousuke knew that his plan for taking over the control room was a foolish daydream. Forcing them to call off the raid and just sit here at the bottom of the ocean until the time came—he wasn’t that kind of man.