Dancing Very Merry Christmas
Page 11
“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 thr
ough 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.