by Shouji Gatou
Mardukas was in the control room, dishing out commands from a standing position next to the empty captain’s chair. He was worried about the cruise ship enough as it was. He’d been told that the captain had gone missing, that a mysterious enemy had attacked, and that things were looking grim. He was further concerned about a set of Japanese patrol boats passing just four miles away. And now, here was the sonar technician with more bad news.
“Make your reports clear and concise,” Mardukas ordered with a frown. “You—”
“Quiet! You’re distracting me!” Dejirani snapped. “There’s more than one. Underwater, over the thermal layer. And... moving fast. Over 50 knots?!”
“A torpedo?” Mardukas said with alarm. “Battle stations!” A shot of fear ran through the control room. The officer of the deck hit the alarm, and the order was broadcast shipwide. A yellow marker displaying the contact appeared on the nautical map on the front screen.
“No! I’d have noticed a torpedo way sooner! The shape’s all wrong!” Dejirani objected. “They’re submarines! Damn, now two more! Designate Mike-14 and Mike-15! All about ten miles away and closing!”
Impossible, Mardukas thought. The de Danaan was the only submarine in the world capable of speeds faster than 50 knots. But he’d never known Dejirani’s analyses to be wrong, and so he believed it. Enemies? he wondered. A foolish question; of course they’re enemies.
Mardukas took a deep breath. “Contact the ground team,” he ordered. “Sever the communications cable. Helm, course 1-0-5, speed to 30 knots! Twenty degrees down bubble; make your depth 300! Prepare for anti-submarine warfare!”
24 December, 2325 Hours (Japan Standard Time)
Underwater, 16 Kilometers East of Tuatha de Danaan
The sound of superconductive drives and rushing water rang out as three Leviathans cruised forward, piercing through the black ocean. Their speed was far beyond what any conventional vessel could hope to match.
“Shark-1 to all. The TDD seems to have noticed us. It’s stopped running parallel with the Pacific Chrysalis and changed to course 1-0-5,” announced the pilot of one of the Leviathans, Shark-1.
Most submarines, when moving at top speed, would find it impossible to scan for enemies due to the noise they were producing themselves, but their machines were different. They were pulling information from the sonobuoys they’d dispersed in advance, which could tell them precisely where the enemy was, regardless of their own speeds.
“Shark-2, roger. Textbook navigation there, eh?”
“Shark-3, roger. What a mediocre captain. They don’t seem to realize how outmatched they are.”
The responses came from Shark-1’s “wingmen” as they trailed a few hundred yards behind. Their machines, revolutionized takes on the concept of the submarine, used fighter pilot jargon to describe their maneuvers. In fact, the concept of “Plan 0601,” the Leviathan, was that of “undersea fighter jet.”
With a crew of two each, these brand new weapons platforms made use of arm slave control technology, which allowed them to approach a target swiftly and execute strikes that couldn’t be dodged. They were capable of close-combat tactics, too, and their general purpose was to use their exceptional maneuverability to quickly dispose of slow-moving vessels carrying crews of several hundred.
Their bodies were streamlined, like throwing knives, and somewhat resembled scaled-down Tuatha de Danaans. Each was affixed with a pair of arms for close-range combat, which enabled the Leviathans to grapple a target and breach its hull with their monomolecular cutters.
These machines, which applied the versatility of ASes to undersea combat, were untouchable by all conventional ships. They’d already had live combat tests sinking Russian and Indian naval submarines, as well as several commercial vessels. All were written off as accidents, and the crews that had died at their hands probably didn’t even know what had hit them.
The Shark team that operated the Leviathans had found these early targets pathetically easy to dispose of, and this went doubly so for the captain of the Shark-1; he had once been an elite submariner in the British Navy, but the whims of a tyrannical superior had sealed him off from a path to captaincy. Yet now here he was, master of the world’s greatest underwater vessel—and he was deeply grateful to Amalgam, who had given him this chance.
The Tuatha de Danaan would be the ultimate prey. According to reports, its formidable female captain was not currently aboard, so the hunt wouldn’t even prove especially difficult. The vessel was probably currently under command of that man—that incompetent, neurotic officer who had ruined his life. It was finally time for revenge.
“I’ll teach you a lesson...” In the stuffy cockpit, he smiled cruelly to himself. “As usual, we’ll attack from three directions. Break!”
The three machines, sailing in a reverse V-formation through the dark water, split apart at his word, each going in a different direction. They turned with the precise ferocity of a raptor in flight; by comparison, their prey seemed especially slow and pathetic.
24 December, 2327 Hours (Japan Standard Time)
Casino, Pacific Chrysalis
“Not yet?” Sousuke whispered into the radio from a corner of the casino, as he readied his Belgian-made submachine gun. The sprinklers were still raining down on them.
“Not yet,” the soaked Kaname responded in a trembling voice, standing next to the roulette table a few dozen meters away. An Alastor was standing right in front of her, close enough to grab her with just one leap. “Keep holding,” she told him. “Once it realizes that I’m the one it’s after, it definitely won’t hurt me. Don’t worry.”
“But what if you’re wrong?” Sousuke fretted. “You’ve done enough, haven’t you? Get away from it, Chidori.”
“I haven’t done enough!” Kaname’s voice cracked. Sousuke, who had his sight trained on the Alastor from afar, could hear her even without the radio.
The robot approached her, slowly. As it stared straight at Kaname, the robot’s hooded sensor glowed. With one or two more steps, it would be close enough to tear her in half with one swing of its arm.
Sousuke had plenty of experience with decoy plans, but he’d never had to fight so hard against the urge to pull the trigger. I feel like a new recruit... he thought. What if that metal mountain just swats off her head? What if it shoots through her with its arm rifle? What if it grabs her throat with its hand, and twists... He was shocked by where his own imagination was taking him.
How many times has Kaname faced an imminent threat like this now? Sousuke wondered. Why do I always get this way? I lose all my cool the minute she’s in danger. My emotions race and my blood runs hot. I don’t feel this way about my other comrades... Why is that?
He narrowed his eyes. Kaname held stock-still before the Alastor, wreathed in light mist from the pouring rain. She was standing in the one faint beam of light in the room, which illuminated her droplet-covered face and her trembling shoulders. As she stood there, almost symbolically, he finally understood. The understanding was sudden, and inappropriate, and unforeseen. There was no logic to it at all. She was just special.
She’s strong. She’s beautiful. I want to protect her. Comfort, hope, inspiration—she is the symbol of all those things, Sousuke realized. I want her all to myself. I can’t stand the idea of anyone having her; especially not an enemy. That’s how I feel right now. Knowing that is all I need. I finally understand—
But as he was about to come upon the final answer, Sousuke’s ruminations were interrupted by the sound of Kaname’s voice. “Ah... wait. Er... Tessa? I’m a little occupied right now...”
“What is it, Chidori?” he asked, staring at her in confusion.
Kaname’s tone abruptly changed, and her voice came through the radio in a whisper. “I’m sorry, Kaname-san. This situation is... oh, my goodness. Very dangerous. But ah... I see. I’ll leave it to you...”
What is she talking about? Sousuke wondered. It was bizarre, just like that day in the depths of the de D
anaan, in the Lady Chapel. She’d been talking to someone, as if she was a different person—specifically, as if she was Tessa.
But Sousuke didn’t have any more time to think it over, because Kaname was herself again, and shouting, “All right... do it!” In his sight, he could see the robot reaching for Kaname, and he opened fire without hesitation.
The stricken enemy turned to face him as Kurz bathed it in fire from the other direction. “Run!” Sousuke cried, pulling the safety off of a flash grenade.
Clouseau was at all ends trying to deal with everything at once: getting hostages to safety; organizing his subordinates; fighting off the encroaching enemy; the condition of the mothership they were no longer in touch with; the progress of the safecracking. It never rains, but it pours... he thought gloomily.
“Team Golf, move back from E13 to E15,” he ordered. “As slowly as you can. Don’t let them through to E14. Gebo-9, how’s Santa Claus coming? Kaun-6, prioritize the hostages—” Clouseau continued to shoot while dishing out his orders. Empty shell casings littered the floor around him, and the smell of smoke filled the hallway. On the other side of the corridor, a dark silhouette flew back and hid around the bend. Dammit... The stupid robot. Was it intentionally making him waste ammunition?
It was learning.
Just then, he got the call he’d been waiting for. It was Tessa; she was calling from the phone in the women’s bathroom, routed through the radio on the bridge. “Uruz-1, Ansuz here. Status?”
“Colonel?” Clouseau responded. “Where are you? Is that passenger—”
Tessa interrupted him in a whisper. “I’m still with him. I managed to sneak away to speak with you. He hasn’t done anything to me. But it sounds like those robots have appeared?”
“Yes. About a dozen, I think.”
“Follow Angel’s plan,” Tessa ordered.
How does she know about that? She should have only just now gotten in contact with us... But Clouseau didn’t have time to think about it any longer.
“Have Team Golf on standby in G10, as well,” Tessa continued. “That will be the one gap in the net, and Corporal Yang is better cut out for that. And I’m sure the robots are craftier than you were expecting.”
Hearing Tessa sounding clear and confident for the first time that day, Clouseau decided to set all questions aside. He could think about all of that later; she was his commanding officer, and worth trusting in situations like these.
Tessa launched into a series of rapid-fire questions next: “How’s the hostage evacuation?”
“Almost completely finished,” he told her.
“Captain Harris?”
“Haven’t found him yet.”
“The vault?”
“Not through yet.”
“The de Danaan?”
Clouseau hesitated for a second. That was right—that was the next most urgent matter after the robots. “‘Three high-tech submarines approaching at fifty knots. They probably mean to sink us. Taking countermeasures now,’ they said. The XO is still in command.”
Like most of the members of the ground team, Clouseau didn’t know much about submarine combat, but it was obvious that the de Danaan was in danger. Besides that, it was three-on-one—this might be the greatest threat the mighty sub had ever faced. And in the past, the one who’d always gotten them out of trouble was the wunderkind, Teletha Testarossa. But she wasn’t aboard right now. She couldn’t issue orders or give advice.
It’s probably hopeless... Clouseau didn’t want to admit it, but with that unimpressive-looking XO in command, there was no way—
“We’ll just have to leave it to him,” Tessa said, with utmost calm.
“Yes, ma’am. But Colonel—”
“Clouseau-san,” she said, cutting him off. “Do you know what Lieutenant Colonel Mardukas was known as in his Royal Navy days?”
“No...”
“‘The Duke.’ His navigation was serene. His strategies were clear-headed. He’s a top-notch submariner and an unbeatable chess player. He was awarded countless medals for top-secret live combat missions,” Tessa told him. “There is no one in the field of underwater combat who doesn’t know the name ‘the Duke.’”
“Him?” Clouseau questioned incredulously. “The lieutenant colonel?”
“Did you think he was merely a fussy technician?” Tessa asked, her voice betraying some amusement despite the seriousness of their situation. “When he’s about to show his true skill, ‘the Duke’ has a certain habit... I’m afraid I’ve never witnessed it myself, but our crew might be seeing it at this very moment.”
Same Timeframe, Tuatha de Danaan
Richard Mardukas was indeed displaying his “habit” for the first time in six years. He pinched his hat brim with the fingers of his right hand and put his left hand on the back of his head. Then he slowly reversed the positions of his hands, rotating the cap 180 degrees.
He pressed a button. “Gentlemen. We are entering battle,” Richard Mardukas said, running his narrowed eyes over the screen. “The enemy believes that they are hunting us. We may be large and slow, indeed, but we will show them that it is they who are the prey. Our lady’s vessel is the true queen of death, and she reigns over these seas.” He paused a moment, and then called out, “FCO, report.”
“FCO! Loading of first and second ADSLMMs complete!”
“Load MAGROCs onto all MVLSes.”
“Aye, sir. Loading MAGROCs onto all MVLSes.”
“Maneuvering. New course, 2-0-5.”
“Aye, sir. Coming to course 2-0-5.”
“FCO. On my signal, open tubes one and two.”
“Aye, sir. Ready.”
“Maneuvering. Halt EMFC and reduce forward speed. Sonar, tell me when we’re cavitating.”
“Aye, sir.”
It felt like an esoteric chant that only they knew; a pre-battle ritual, performed by ancient priests. With their words, the sleeping giant around them began to hum with power.
A report came in from the sonar shack. “Con, sonar. I’ve got it. Estimating five seconds. Two, one... cavitating!”
“Open one and two.”
“Aye. Opening one and two.”
“XO. We’ll be in plain sight,” said the officer of the deck, Captain Goddard, nervously.
“We already were,” Mardukas told him dismissively. “Swim out one and two.”
“Aye. ADSLMM, fire one. Fire two.”
Mobile mines spat out from the de Danaan’s torpedo tubes. These were weapons designed to sail silently to pre-input coordinates and wait for the enemy there... but their speed was only twenty knots, one-third the speed of the enemy.
It was a good thing that the noise of the de Danaan’s high-speed cruising, caused by the stoppage of its electromagnetic flow control function, covered the sound of the smart mines’ launch... but their effective range was in the opposite direction of the route the enemies were taking.
“Hold course. In twenty seconds, activate the EMFC on Captain Dinh’s mark. Then decrease to one-third speed. Slow to twenty knots.”
“XO. But then the enemy could attack—” the navigation officer said.
“Hurry, Captain Dinh,” said Mardukas, cutting his subordinate off.
“Ah... aye, sir. EMFC, on my mark. 5, 4, 3... contact.”
“Contact. EMFC, activate,” the AMC officer replied. The electromagnetic flow control silenced the noise generated by the massive submarine’s passage through the water.
“Well done,” Mardukas commended him. “But the enemy can still see us. Sonar, keep an ear out.”
“Aye, sir.”
“New course 2-9-5. Make your depth 120. Twenty degrees up bubble.”
“Aye, sir. Course now 2-9-5. Make my depth 120. Twenty degrees up bubble.”
Mardukas gave orders, and his subordinates repeated them.
As he listened to the reports coming in, Mardukas spoke quietly, without so much as a smile. “Excellent. Gentlemen, don’t be overwhelmed by the enemy’s speed. Impat
ience leads to unforced errors. Enjoy this moment.”
Pacific Chrysalis
Tessa finished her instructions to Clouseau and came out of the girls’ bathroom, when she found Sailor standing right there.
“Took you a while,” he said. She had expected him to lay into her, but his manner was strangely subdued.
They were currently on the lower deck in the ship’s fore, so there was no one else around. Ever since that first explosion, she’d been hearing the sound of intense gunfire in the distance. Sailor had gotten excited by the noise. “The Navy SEALS are here!” he’d exulted.
“But it’s too early,” he’d concluded directly afterwards. “We’re still only sixty minutes into a two-hour movie. They’re gonna get wiped out. I have to save them!”
It would be too dangerous to let this stubborn soldier throw himself into the danger zone, which was why Tessa was finding every excuse she could to buy time. She could sense his irritation rising every time she did so, but... “S-Sorry for the wait. Shall we, then?” Tessa asked as if nothing had happened, but Sailor’s response surprised her.
“We can go later.”
“Er? Is there some problem?” Tessa asked.
He’d been raring to go just minutes ago, but now Sailor’s manner was entirely subdued. His square jaw was twisted in a scowl, and he stared carefully at Tessa. “You might not think it from looking at me, but I’ve got pretty good hearing. I couldn’t make out everything, but I heard a lot. Who were you talking to?”
Tessa gasped.
Sailor, holding his submachine gun in one hand, walked swiftly up to her. “I heard you say something about ‘the Duke.’ You knew his real name, too. How does a maid like you know Mr. Mardukas?”
“Ah, er—”
“When I was an officer of the deck, he saved the ship I was serving on. And me,” Sailor admitted. “We were on maneuvers in the Barents Sea, and started taking on water from an accident and Soviet attacks. It was the British nuclear sub, the Turbulent, that saved us; the Duke was its captain. After things quieted down, my captain—Commander Testarossa—partly out of gratitude, partly out of respect, and partly as a joke, sent him an American-style Turbulent cap.”