《No, I mean Lieutenant Sachs.》
“What?”
《Earlier, you suggested that he was lax in his safety protocols because he was so eager to get me working.》
“Well...” Sousuke didn’t know what to say. Does Al feel responsible for Sachs’s death? he wondered. Even if Al knew how to interact with humans, he was still a machine. It was one thing for him to ask questions about things that would matter on the battlefield, but Sousuke didn’t understand the purpose of this one. “Why would you ask that?” he finally replied. “Is there something else he was supposed to get around to but didn’t?”
《No. I booted up successfully, so there was no role left for the maintenance crew. Lieutenant Sachs’s loss is only a minor diminishment to our battle capacity. There is nothing to worry about there.》
It was an extremely machine-like response. Sousuke felt a slight irritation and almost told him to shut up.
But before he could, Al said, 《But I feel a greater sense of loss somehow. Sachs has been tending to me since my Arbalest days. He knows my body better than anyone. He won’t run checks on me or talk to me ever again. This is a loss that exceeds mere strategic value.》
Is he sad? Sousuke wondered. Over Sachs’s death?
《In addition, I worry that my body’s lack of flexibility... my maintenance inefficiency has led to his death. That is what I mean when I say it’s my fault.》
The core unit that made up Al was special; Sousuke had heard that it was made from liquid metal particles that simulated a human nervous system. His technology was completely different from a normal M9’s AI. Yet Sousuke had up until now assumed that Al was just carefully mimicking human behavior. And so he’d interacted with him as though he were a beloved gun or car, without thinking more deeply about it.
But he couldn’t think that way anymore. Al felt responsible for Sachs’s death; this was far beyond the realm of just imitating emotion, wasn’t it? “It isn’t your fault. It was necessary, that’s all,” Sousuke told him, brushing off his own doubts about the matter. “And with his last words, Sachs said that he didn’t blame anyone.”
《This is valuable information for me.》
“Good. Now focus on work.”
《Roger.》 Al silently continued retrying the checks.
Sousuke suddenly remembered the memory chip in Kudan Mira’s letter. She’d written that she’d found it on the internet and for him to watch it if he had free time, but it probably wasn’t important information to the Laevatein or the mission. He wouldn’t have time to look it over now. He’d look it over after he got back.
If he ever got back...
“Uruz-7! Are you ready to deploy?!” the combat controller asked over the radio. The boat was oscillating violently, and he could hear the roar of compressed air forcibly expelling water from the ballast tank.
“Affirmative,” Sousuke replied. “On standby in Elevator Zero.”
“We’re doing an emergency blow,” the controller told him. “We’ll open the flight deck the minute we surface. After we launch you, we’ll submerge again and resume aquatic combat. Please handle the cleanup on the island as discussed.”
“Roger,” Sousuke replied succinctly. Then he checked the Laevatein’s status, only to find that the control line giving them errors still hadn’t resolved. He gave up and ended the tests. It was just an issue with a sub-system, after all; he’d just have to pray that the main system stayed untouched so that the error never came up.
The boat tilted hard upwards and let out a scream, streaking for the surface like a rocket. More machines and clutter rolled around the hangar deck. He was glad that Captain Goldberry had thought to fix Sachs’s body in place.
“I’m heading out now... Ed ‘Bruiser’ Sachs,” Sousuke said, switching his control mode to move his right leg lightly. The Laevatein’s right leg moved in time with it, going down to one knee to pay respects. At the same time, the elevator began to rise.
We don’t need sentimental words between us, thought Sousuke. This is enough. Isn’t that right, Lieutenant?
The elevator’s warning lamps began to spin, flashing and blaring with ear-splitting alarms. Sousuke felt one big tremor rock his machine, which suggested that the Tuatha de Danaan had burst from the surface. The Laevatein was nearly thrown out of the elevator from the force, but it just managed to keep its balance and ride out the shaking.
“Opening flight hatch! Uruz-7, to the catapult! ASAP!” said the combat control officer, barking out his orders. The elevator continued to rise until Sousuke and the Laevatein arrived on the flight deck. The massive hatch overhead split open, revealing the pre-dawn sky above; it was a mixture of dark purple and gray, and rain was pouring down. The wind wasn’t particularly strong, but Sousuke still couldn’t believe he was being launched out into a maelstrom like this with no rehearsal.
A large wave rocked the de Danaan. Aware that any submarine was at its most vulnerable when surfacing, Sousuke knew that he had to keep their time here as short as possible. The Laevatein proceeded from the elevator to the flight deck and swiftly fixed itself to the catapult, assuming a posture like a sprinter in a crouching start.
Connection complete, the screen soon read. Set XL-3 rocket motors to standby. Elongate flight control surfaces automatically. Flaps at maximum length.
《Launch preparations complete,》 said Al. 《Shall I transmit TLS?》
“Go on,” Sousuke told him.
《Transmitting.》
The combat control officer responded immediately. “Control to Uruz-7! TLS received! See you on the beach!” It was the typical phrase said before a mission launch began.