by Shouji Gatou
According to the engineer who looked after it, the lambda driver was comprised of three major components:
The first was a device called the TAROS, which connected to the cockpit. This was short for “transfer and response omni-sphere,” but no one knew what it meant, including the engineer herself. What she did understand, if vaguely, was that it picked up pulses from the pilot’s nervous system and converted them into special kinds of electric signals, which in turn activated certain functions in the machine.
The second was a small module, about the size of a mini-fridge, that formed the lambda driver’s core. Inside it was apparently a cylinder of laser-like rainbow light, but she had no idea what function it served. Activating it seemed to consume a massive amount of power in an instant, which was why the machine carried spare capacitors. This module was directly connected to the machine’s AI, Al, but no matter how many times she analyzed the software, she couldn’t figure out the nature of their connection.
The last was the skeleton that served as the machine’s framework. It was fundamentally identical to the M9’s, made of a titanium alloy and ceramic composite, but its core had been infused with a strange material. Delicate crystals wove together in complex patterns like nerves, changing their arrangements when hit with an electrical current. But once again, what function that served was a mystery to her.
In other words, it was a cascade of things she didn’t understand.
Whenever the AI Al was booted up, the display insisted, “Sergeant Sagara’s presence required to activate lambda driver.” It didn’t reject other operators, exactly; the lambda driver simply wouldn’t activate for them. All attempts to delete the requirement had failed; formatting Al didn’t work, either. Any other methods they’d tried to strong-arm it simply caused Al to display an error message and lock up.
“And that’s basically it. I give up,” the young chief engineer, Lieutenant Nora Lemming, said as she threw up her hands lightly. “All I can say is that this machine ‘amplifies mental energy’ or something like that... not that I’m a fan of that woo-woo sort of thing.”
“What happened to the person who made it?” Sousuke’s tight frown became tighter as he looked up at the Arbalest.
“I was told that he died,” the lieutenant said carefully. “The only one who knows more about the lambda driver than me is the captain. But even she mainly seems to know about the TAROS...”
“I see...”
“So we can’t actually build another of this thing. Thankfully, we had some spares, so we managed to fix the arm you shot off... but if you lose your left arm again, we’ll have to start subbing in M9 parts.”
“I’ll be careful,” Sousuke promised.
“But don’t worry. You’ve successfully managed to activate it twice in a real fight. I think you have a gift.”
“A... gift?”
“Yes. A wonderful gift, given by God. So have faith in yourself, Sergeant Sagara.” the lieutenant said with a smile.
27 August, 1655 Hours (Greenwich Mean Time)
Galley, Tuatha de Danaan
Despite how interesting the place was, after a day, Kaname inevitably ran out of new things to see; the boat’s scenery became monotonous, and she had nothing to occupy herself with. Sousuke and the others had vanished off to some meeting or another, and she had barely seen Tessa since that morning. She stopped by the control room, but the other girl was talking with the guy who’d led Kaname’s welcome yesterday, and she didn’t do more than glance at her and wave.
Kaname was bored and wanted to go home. Apparently the boat would finish its job and be back in base in about two days. Kaname was told that if she wanted, a helicopter could take her and Sousuke back to base earlier, and they could head back to Tokyo from there... but that, too, would have to wait until their “job”—the mission—was finished. Thus, she’d have to find some way to kill time here until tomorrow.
Left with no other option, she’d chosen to head to the galley and help the cook. She chopped furiously through a mountain of onions, followed by carrots then potatoes. The work seemed endless, which made it a perfect distraction.
“You’re good at that, you know?” the young cook (one of the few Japanese people on the ship) said, seeming genuinely impressed with her knife skills.
“Why, thank you,” Kaname agreed.
“You know how to use an oven, too,” the cook observed. “Why not quit school and join our crew? I’ll teach you the secrets of deep-sea cooking.”
“Not my bag, thanks,” she laughed.
Just then, an announcement came over the speakers. “This is your captain.” It was Tessa’s voice. “We will soon be entering the area of operations. There will be no hostile vessels on or in the water during this mission, and this vessel is not expected to engage in active combat. We will, as usual, remain in the shadows—which should not be difficult given the power of this vessel and the skill of all aboard. Be precise and cautious and do your jobs, as you always do. May God watch over us all.” She could be heard clearing her throat, and then, “Now, proceed to secondary battle stations. That is all.” The message ended. A bell telling them to take battle stations—likely electronic, though it sounded just like a real one—rang out. From the galley, Kaname could see a handful of crewmembers, who had been relaxing in the mess, quickly spring to life and run out to take their posts.
“Ahh, here we go,” the cook muttered.
With faint trepidation, Kaname asked, “Are they going to fight?”
“Yeah, but don’t worry,” the cook reassured her. “The boat itself won’t engage; just the members of the SRT.”
“SRT?” she questioned.
“The special response team. You know, like Sergeant Sagara.”
Sousuke is going to go fight, then. The thought sent a new wave of anxiety flooding over her. She’d seen him fight in the past, and they’d certainly been through a lot together... but she’d never been in quite this situation before. Going to fight—something about the future tense made it all feel more real. “Hey... I gotta go, okay?”
“Huh?”
Kaname ran out of the galley, leaving the startled cook staring after her. She fought her way past crewmen rushing to their battle stations, down the hall to the duty room where Sousuke and the others slept. It was already empty. Her next few guesses also turned up nothing, so she ran to the hangar and... “Ah...”
Sousuke was standing in front of his AS—it was already armed for bear—conversing with a jumpsuit-clad woman. He was dressed in his black AS operator’s outfit, holding a clipboard-like tablet. A little ways away, Kurz and Mao were hanging out with an East Asian combatant whose name she didn’t know.
“Kaname?” Kurz was the first to notice her. “Where’s the fire, huh? Oh... I get it, you ran all this way to bring me a good luck charm. It never fails! A locket with a girl’s pubic—glugh!” Kurz doubled over abruptly from an elbow to the solar plexus.
Mao, the guilty party, was rubbing her temples. “If only I knew why you were like this...” She redirected her attention. “So, how can we help you, Kaname?”
“Um, ah... I’m not really... I just...” Kaname dissembled. She wasn’t sure what she had come here for, either. She glanced in Sousuke’s direction and saw him still talking shop with the engineer; he hadn’t noticed Kaname’s presence at all. He looked extremely focused and probably wasn’t about to come over for a chat.
“I get it. It’s not safe for you to be here, though. The ASes will be walking around just before we deploy.”
“R-Right...”
“We’re getting ready for battle right now,” Mao finished gently. “So, sorry to ask, but... you know?” Kaname caught her meaning; she was politely telling her to leave.
Swallowing a faint feeling of alienation, she nodded. “Right... sorry to be in the way.” Kaname didn’t have any choice but to turn around and go. She got as far as the hangar door, then looked back one more time.
Mao was pressing her hands together in a
pology, while Kurz waved to her casually. Sousuke still hadn’t noticed her. So far away, his back to her... He seemed like the most distant person in the world.
I mean... it’s not like it’s the last time I’m ever going to see him... Kaname thought, and then let out a sigh.
27 August, 1750 Hours (Greenwich Mean Time)
Tuatha de Danaan, 15 Miles Northeast of Berildaob Island, Perio Archipelago
Her subordinates’ voices chorused through the control room as the deployment drew near:
“Current depth, 80. Speed, three knots. EMFC, all green.”
“Turtle-1, depth ten... five... hold.”
“Sonar, no vessels detected above.”
“Contact on ESM, US Navy cruisers. Analyzing now...”
“Current, four knots from northwest. There’s a faint breeze on the surface.”
“Uruz-1, I’ve entered the first airtight chamber.”
“Uruz-7, AS entry to second airtight chamber complete.”
“ESM analysis complete. Bearing 0-8-0, Arleigh Burke-class. Bearing 0-7-9, Ticonderoga-class. Estimate range at least 30 miles each.”
“Starboard, first ATC technician. Closure of interior hatches complete. Pressure secured.”
“Port, second ATC technician. Closure of interior hatches complete. Pressure secured. Ready to flood any time.”
The reports poured in to Tessa, who paid each of them the necessary amount of attention while swiftly dishing out orders of her own. “Good,” she said. “Flood ATCs one through six.”
“Aye, ma’am. Flood ATCs one through six,” Mardukas responded.
This time, the ASes would deploy from the water. They’d swim unnoticed to the destination island then launch a surprise attack. The submarine had three AS-sized airlocks on either side of the hangar from which the M9s and the ARX-7 could exit; they were currently housing Captain McAllen and his AS team. All she had to do now was open the hatches.
“All right...” Tessa ran her final checks then scanned the ocean surface. She took control of a turtle with a small joystick and manipulated its optical sensors. For a very brief time, she had the floating robot deploy a small periscope; as she swiveled it 360 degrees, the things it saw came through, crystal clear, on her captain’s screen.
She could see the sea at night. This far from any light pollution, the sky was clear and beautiful. All around the horizon, stars glittered in bountiful color. It was a breathtaking sight.
A foolish notion flitted through her mind. What if she canceled the operation and surfaced the boat? Then, what if they all went topside and breathed in the fresh air, while she and he gazed up at those stars together, for real? It was a wonderful thought.
“Captain?” Mardukas asked.
Then, as if nothing had happened, Tessa switched her screen to night vision mode, and checked for local ships and aircraft. All clear; now for the dispatch. She glanced at the status board on the front screen. It gave the current state of the airlocks, with corresponding diagrams and labels.
2nd ATC—■/ARX-7 (Uruz-7)
Don’t worry. He’s good at what he does. And... Mao and Kurz and the others are with him, aren’t they? Teletha Testarossa set aside her thoughts, took in a deep breath, and gave the order. “All AS hatches, open.”
“Aye, ma’am. All AS hatches, open!”
Sousuke felt a jolt and heard a muffled gurgle as the second hatch opened. Water began to pour in all around his machine; his night vision sensors showed green ocean filling in all around him.
The Arbalest was currently equipped with an underwater pack: a unit clasped around its torso which carried an oxygen tank, ballast, and high-powered pump-jets. In an emergency, it could also unfold into a hydrofoil to let the machine skate across the water’s surface at high speeds. The Arbalest and the M9s weren’t designed to be fully watertight, so their dive depth was limited to about 40 meters; for most operations, though, that was more than enough.
Okay... he thought before cranking up the output of his pump-jets to sail his machine out of the airlock. The hatch closed immediately behind him. The M9s deploying from the other hatches trailed streams of tiny bubbles as they overtook the Arbalest.
A laugh came over the radio. “Okay, bring on the resort-hopping!” It was Kurz’s voice, and Sousuke could see one of the M9s spinning around in the water.
“Don’t mess around, idiot!”
“Aw, but—”
“Don’t ‘but’ me! Darn it... Let’s go!” the call came from Captain McAllen’s M9 just before it started on the move. The Arbalest and four M9s followed after, holding watertight containers carrying their weapons in both hands. They formed a neat column—a kind of formation—and swam forward at a depth of 30 meters, picking up speed as they went. Behind them, the de Danaan’s bow began to tilt downward as it left to dive to even greater depths.
That’s right, Sousuke realized in that moment, I never said anything to Chidori...
They spent about twenty minutes swimming. The ocean was pitch black, but the sea floor below was just visible to their night vision sensors. That hadn’t been the case just a few minutes ago—the increasing shallowness signified that they were getting closer to land. They could see tropical fish swimming in and out among some scraggly rocks nearby; their colors would probably be dazzling in the light of day.
“Sousuke?” Mao asked over the radio. She wasn’t using the mission channel.
“Yes?”
“You seem a little worked up... Are you?”
The sudden question caught Sousuke off guard. It took him a moment to respond. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t have to hide it,” she said reassuringly. “Nobody else uses this channel.”
“I’m not hiding anything,” he protested. “I—”
“Oh, come on,” she scoffed. “You didn’t even notice Kaname before, did you?”
“Before? When?”
Mao made a noise of bemusement. “See? You’re not even looking at the world around you. You’re worried about what the major said, right? About that Venom thing.”
“Well... of course I am,” he said stiffly. “If I make one mistake, everyone on the team will die. It’s natural that I should keep in mind the importance of—”
“Don’t do that,” Mao said, cutting him off. “You need to not sweat that stuff.”
“What?” Sousuke was confused. “I would think you, of all people...” McAllen was heading up this particular operation, but Mao often assumed the leadership role for their smaller three-man team. She was a very responsible person, so it was strange to hear her say something like that.
“Oh, come on,” she sighed. “If I ran myself ragged over everything like you’re doing now, I’d be screwing up constantly. You can’t let yourself focus on what’s riding on your performance. You need to tell yourself ‘it’ll all work out,’ or else the pressure’s going to break you.”
“But...”
“So it’s not enough to protect Kaname; you want to protect us, too?”
Sousuke gulped and struggled for an answer.
Mao let out a small laugh in response. “The concern is appreciated, but I’ll pass. Kurz and McAllen and the others would say the same thing.”
Sousuke probably would too, in their position. They weren’t just any soldiers; they were hand-picked elites, capable of protecting themselves. He knew that. They wouldn’t take unnecessary risks, and if they were in danger, they knew how to get clear. In other words, she was right.
“You’re right,” he said eventually. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Attaboy. Talk to you later.” Mao closed her channel.
But... Sousuke found himself thinking less than a minute later. But normal ASes don’t stand a chance against that thing. It took out twelve American machines all by itself. It was an unshakable fact. If I lose, it’s all over. No matter how he tried, he just couldn’t get that thought out of his mind.
Soon after, orders came through on the mission channel:
/> “Uruz-1 to squad. We’ve just passed the third waypoint; this is where we split into our three teams. Got it?”
After passing the waypoint, the six machines would move to their respective stations: the infiltration team would disable the bombs on the chemical weapons, the suppression team would make landfall and attack the base directly, and the sniper team would back up the land team and keep an eye on the island as a whole. Thus, the counterinsurgency would kick off with attacks from three directions—from underground, from the beach, and from outside enemy shooting range.
“Uruz-2, roger.”
“Uruz-6, roger.”
“Uruz-7, roger.”
“Uruz-10, roger.”
“Uruz-12, roger.”
After each unit gave its response, they dispersed, in teams of two, to their designated areas.
The infiltration team consisted of Mao and Sergeant Dunnigan. Dunnigan was born in the American South—Louisiana—and he’d started out as a paratrooper with the US Army. There were signs of premature aging in his appearance, even though he couldn’t be much older than Mao, but he was in amazing shape, with a musculature that let him lift a 100-kilogram barbell effortlessly. Not only was he an AS operator, but he was also an expert with explosives, which was probably why he’d been chosen for this team. The first stage of their job would be to go on ahead of the other four, infiltrate the place where the chemical weapons were being held, and disable the bombs reportedly planted there.
They’d be infiltrating from underground. The western side of the island terminated in a low cliff, and there was an old tunnel under the waterline. It had been dug out over fifty years ago to serve as a secret dock and submarine port for the old Japanese Imperial Navy. The passage of time and countless earthquakes since had collapsed and submerged it, and it had proceeded to fall out of memory for everyone, including the current US Armed Forces.
The deepest part of the tunnel was separated from the storage facility by a rock wall about two meters thick. Their plan was to open a hole with a drill, use a fiberscope to look around inside the storehouse, then blow through. After that, they would bust in and take out the detonators.