Full Metal Panic! - Volume SS05 - Unquenchable Five-Alarm Fire? - Chapter 6

The Relatively Uneventful Days of a Battle Group Commander

[0736: Woke up. Inspected TDD-1 control room. No issues found. Exchanged thoughts with NCO in sonar shack.]

—Excerpt from personal log of Colonel T. Testarossa.

She’d dreamt of her beloved submarine sinking. They were cruising along at a super-fast sixty knots, when a sudden underwater gust—a phenomenon known as an internal wave—had forced them down fast. She should have ordered an emergency blow but misread the situation and tried to use standard piloting to correct their depth instead. But because they were moving at super-fast speeds, her mere ten seconds of hesitation had ended up dropping them a full two hundred meters. Before she could even issue her next command, they were below their collapse depth.

The ship buckled under the pressure and came apart. Their ammunition stores detonated. Water flooded in.

Her precious subordinates had been swept to the bottom of the sea. As if she were doing a jigsaw puzzle, she tried desperately to piece their scattered limbs back together on the ocean floor. She tried and tried, but nothing seemed to fit. If she could just work fast enough, some of them might still be saved. But no matter how she thought, no matter how she tried, they just wouldn’t come together.

She was frustrated, on the verge of tears, like a child struggling with a task. She lamented her own stupidity and despaired at her own incompetence.

Then, after much tossing and turning, Teletha Testarossa awoke, crying. She’d had the same nightmare dozens of times, so she recovered from it this time quickly enough. The only thought that went through her hazy mind was, Ah, this again.

The on-board physician and acting counselor, Captain Goldberry, had said that nightmares served a healthy psychological function, as a way of processing emotions for people in high-stress jobs. Insomnia would be the real danger sign, so as long as she could sleep soundly when she was tired, things weren’t especially serious. Tessa still slept well and ate even better (to a degree that left her slightly disappointed in herself). There was no issue there.

“Mmgh...” she murmured unhappily, and cast her blurry vision across her surroundings. She saw her simple desk and the familiar walls of her cramped little captain’s stateroom of the amphibious assault submarine, Tuatha de Danaan. Tessa was curled up in the stark white sheets, perilously close to falling off the pull-down bed.

She tried to sit herself up but got her foot caught in a sheet and went tumbling. As she heroically managed to right herself, a corner of her still-hazy brain reminded her, That’s right. I have to take command...

I’ve apparently been fast asleep, but for how long? What sector of ocean are we in right now? I can’t remember... Tracing back events in her sleep-addled mind, she picked up the internal phone on her desk and called up the control room.

Nobody answered... even though normally, the officer on duty would pick up within seconds. It was too strange. Too quiet.

Tessa threw off her sheets and stumbled out of her quarters, heading for the control room. The corridors were dark and hushed, with no sign of the crew anywhere. Her blurry gaze swayed back and forth, up and down. After nearly tripping several times, she finally arrived at her destination.

It was pitch black here as well. Abandoned. There was nobody at all to be found here in the brain of the submarine. The front screen was off. The various displays and consoles, large and small, were silent.

“Dana?” she called to the ship’s AI, but not even that responded to her call. She stood in the center of the control room, her head in a whirl. Uncertain about what to do next, she grabbed the microphone for the ship’s PA system. “Um...” she started, then paused to yawn. “This is your captain speaking. Is anyone there? I want all departments... to report in at once. All officers... please come to the control room.”

There was no response. The ship’s PA system was down.

“Mmgh...” What’s going on? Where has everyone gone? Someone, please answer me... she begged internally. Or is this... ah, of course. Probably still the dream.

Just then, a voice called to her, its tone suspicious. “Colonel?” An NCO from their ground forces poked his head out of the sonar shack at the back of the control room. He was East Asian, with a sullen face and tight frown, dressed in olive-colored fatigues. This was Sergeant Sagara Sousuke of the Special Response Team.

When he saw Tessa, for some reason, his eyes opened wide, and he looked quickly away. “C-Colonel... Is there some kind of issue?”

“Sagara-san?” she asked in confusion. Sousuke of the ground forces, here in the empty control room? It was definitely an unusual state of affairs. And what was he doing in the sonar shack? Someone of his station would normally never have business here. It had to be part of the dream.

“Sagara-san...” Tessa approached him, then without hesitation threw her arms around him.

“C-Colonel?!” he said in confusion. She could feel his breath on her bangs and the faint warmth of his body. “Colonel. What’s going on? I need an explanation of the situation.”

“Situation? I don’t want to admit it, but I was having the most frightful dream earlier... so when I saw you, it made me so happy...”

“Oh? Well...”

“And... I was thinking I might just ask you a little favor... hee hee. Sagara-san, would you call me Tessa, like you did that time before? This is just more of the dream, so I don’t need to hold back, do I? I want to have... a nice dream... for once.” She spoke with all the sweetness she had, rubbing her cheek against him. She’d never do anything so bold in real life, of course, and certainly never here in the control room, a symbol of the burden and authority that came with her captaincy.

“A d-dream?” he stammered. “I’m sorry, Colonel, I don’t fully understand...”

“Oh, don’t be so mean, Sagara-san,” she pouted. “What can I do to get you to call me Tessa? Just say the word and I’ll do anything you like... Hee hee hee...”

“Th-Then... Tessa... please return to your senses. If you don’t, I’ll have to call the base physician. It’s all right. If you just stop now, I won’t tell anyone about this. So please...”

Tessa paused. It was around this point that her mind, which had so far been chugging along at one-ten-thousandth of its usual speed, suddenly started turning at a normal rate. Her thoughts, which had been as jumbled as mushy tofu, regained their usual clarity. Had she been a computer, her hard disk would currently be spinning like wild. Force-closing all applications. Rebooting OS. Scanning disk. Checking for errors. Checking for viruses. Icons appeared on the taskbar one after another. Her senses of sight, hearing, touch, smell... they all recognized the situation. It was far too detailed to be a dream.

Which meant it wasn’t a dream, and she was currently leaning on the real Sagara Sousuke.

“Eek?!” Tessa shrieked as she pushed him away.

“Erk...” Sousuke grunted in response.

“Oh, what was I... It’s n-n-not like that... I honestly didn’t mean—” Panicking, she ran through a new mental checklist. Was she really out on the open seas right now? No, the Tuatha de Danaan was docked at the Merida Island base. They’d finished maintenance yesterday and were now awaiting their next mission. The crew had disembarked, which was why nobody had answered her call. How could they, when none of them were on board?

But if that was the case, what was Sagara Sousuke doing in the sonar shack? She remembered this as well. He’d been checking the M9 Gernsback’s underwater sound production with the sonar technician, Sergeant Dejirani. They’d asked her for permission to use it yesterday, and she’d granted it. They’d probably spent all night poring over the data. If she listened hard, she could hear Sergeant Dejirani’s snoring from the back.

Yet in her sleep-addled haze, she’d thrown her arms around Sousuke... said those ridiculous things... and made that foolish come-on?!

“Colonel,” he started to say. “How are you—”

“L-Listen, I’m utterly fine! I didn’t mean it, and I’m not crazy, and I didn’t intend any abuse or sexual harassment, although that’s not to say I don’t want you to call me that,” Tessa babbled, “but I certainly didn’t intend to say that to you, and I assure you there are special circumstances for why I said that in my sleepy haze, as I do have extremely low blood pressure, which as you know can often lead to difficulty waking up properly, and I know that I’d never make a mistake like this while we’re at sea but I always feel so uncertain on land so that explains why I’d be sleeping in my captain’s quarters even when we’re docked, and I know that making this clear isn’t a good thing for a commander to do but it’s true! So I really... er, Sagara-san?”

Her speech spoke more of her impressive lung capacity than her lucidity, but as she made it, Tessa realized that Sousuke was looking much more flustered than one would reasonably assume.

Why? Why is he staring off into the distance with his face covered in sweat? Why won’t he look at me— Her stomach dipped, and she looked down at herself... Yes, she was dressed only in her lace underwear with her unbuttoned uniform blouse pulled on over it, revealing her slender form beneath. The braid her ash blond hair was done into was also disheveled. She must have forgotten to actually dress herself before coming to the control room.

“Oh, oh no... What was I thinking?!” Tessa pulled the sheet up around her and took a few steps back before tripping over a step. “Ah...” She fell clean over and, just as her bottom smacked into the floor, the back of her head hit an armrest. The world briefly went dark and stars flashed around her.

Sousuke ran up to her in panic. “Colonel. Speak to me, Colonel!”

“I... I’m fine. It’s all fine...” Tessa stood up quickly without needing his help, her head still spinning. Unable to think of what to say to excuse herself, she just insisted, “I’m fine, I’m fine,” over and over again as she ran out of the control room...

All Sousuke could do was stare after her.

[0941 hours: Inspected AS hangar. Received explanation from project head about joint project between SRT and crucial members of 11th AS maintenance platoon. Malfunctions identified in E-005 and E-008. Assigned project head to deal with it.]

“I know you can be pretty out of it when you first wake up, but that’s a new low even for you,” Master Sergeant Melissa Mao said as she banged away at her keyboard in the base’s hangar. A Mithril arm slave, one of the M9 Gernsbacks, was crouched nearby in its landing posture.

Behind Mao stood Tessa, who had finally gotten her appearance in order. Over her usual khaki-colored uniform she now wore a flight jacket and hat with TDD-1 stitched onto it. Those few small changes gave her a very dynamic air, so this served as her usual outfit when she had to do a lot of walking around the base.

Mao went on, “So, what then? After acting like a total weirdo and making a pass at your subordinate, you just fell over? That’s nuts. You’re like an old man with early-stage dementia.”

“An old man...?” Tessa echoed hollowly.

“Or a cat in heat, if you prefer. Anyway, there’s no coming back from that one. Maybe you should tell him you’re sick in the head and apologize your brains out?” Mao’s carefree comment caused Tessa to pout.

“I am not sick in the head!” she protested. “I’m just not a morning person. I do better when we’re on maneuvers.”

“Okay, but that only accounts for so much,” Mao pointed out. “Even if you’re just waking up, who walks around a submarine half-naked?”

“You did the same thing once, Melissa.”

“Sure, but I was pretty doped up at the time. You should be fine, though, right? The rest of the crew didn’t see and Sousuke’s not the type to gossip.”

“But he’s the one whose opinion I care about...” Tessa flushed red, tugging her the brim of her hat even lower over her eyes. She sighed and went on. “If I was going to try to get him to dote on me while half-asleep, I could have at least done it in a more dignified fashion... It was too pathetic. I wasn’t even alluring. He probably just thinks I’m awful.”

Mao clicked around a CG design on her LCD display with her mouse and let out a hum. “I’m sure it’s fine. Maybe it’ll help him realize you’re a normal girl.”

“But I was acting extremely sub-normal!” wailed Tessa.

“Hmm, fair enough,” Mao replied indifferently, cigarette in mouth.

“Er... Please don’t agree so easily.”

“Hmm. Y’know, you don’t seem to have much to do today.”

“I don’t, unfortunately...” Having some tasks to attend to would have been a good distraction, but Tessa was indeed relatively unoccupied today. In fact she’d worked hard yesterday to open this time in her schedule; Sagara Sousuke had arrived back on Merida Island last night and she’d hoped to contrive ways to spend time with him. Unfortunately, that morning’s experience had soured those inclinations. She’d be too humiliated to even show her face to him now.

Tessa was a battle group commander, with the wisdom and judgment to exploit any opportunity to its fullest in the fight against terrorists. But when it came to matters of the heart, she was like an indecisive rookie lieutenant.

Not good, she told herself. It’s so not good...

While she was spending all her time here, he was spending his far away in Tokyo, getting closer and closer to Chidori Kaname. Kaname, in turn, was always feigning indifference and insisting that she found Sousuke annoying... but then she would turn around, make dinner and brazenly invite him to join her! Sousuke’s decision during the recent incident in Hong Kong had filled Tessa with despair at the time, but even now, Sousuke remained as dense as a rock and Kaname still refused to be honest with herself—according to intelligence she’d received from Mao and Kurz, things hadn’t actually advanced between them at all.

Tessa liked Kaname, but that didn’t mean she was going to step aside for her. Be as honest with your feelings as the situation will allow—this was the precious training she’d received in her short life so far. That’s right, she told herself. The battle isn’t over yet! Mustering up her willpower and acting decisively had been more her usual attitude lately.

And yet, this morning, she’d made a complete fool of herself, and now she was stuck crying on her own, lamenting the loss of what could have been. Her thoughts spiraled in on themselves. Love really was a constant battle, and she’d wanted someone to listen to her as she opened up about her pain. That was why she’d come to see Mao... but Mao seemed lost in her own work, and wasn’t engaging with her earnestly.

“Why were you sleeping on the sub anyway?” Mao asked. “You were in your room in the base last night, weren’t you?”

“Yes. That’s what I’d thought, but...” Tessa had taken care of a lot of paperwork last night, hoping to free up her schedule today all the more. Afterwards, she’d returned to her room in the base while sleepily rubbing her eyes, and found Mao there as usual, gulping down her beer. On her recommendation, Tessa had taken a canned drink from her, and... It was more or less a blank after that. “I’m not entirely sure. My uniform was in my stateroom with me, so I don’t think I was wandering around the base naked. And...” Tessa hesitated.

“And?”

“When I got back to my room on the base, she was missing.”

“She?” Mao echoed.

“My stuffed animal,” Tessa clarified. “The one I always keep next to my bed.”

“Oh, the little puppy.”

“She’s very important to me. I wonder if I went out in some sort of fugue state and left her somewhere. When did you leave last night, Melissa?”

“Right after you got back. I offered you a canned highball to see what would happen, and you chugged it. Then you fell asleep in your clothes, and I got bored so I left. You don’t remember?”

“I’m afraid not,” Tessa admitted. “Might I ask what a canned highball is?”

“It’s a Japanese cocktail. A hard drink, shochu cut with juice.”

“I see. I didn’t know that... Wait, a hard drink?! You made me drink alcohol?!” Tessa asked with a start. That explained why she’d woken up with a headache and vague feeling of nausea.

“So what?” Mao asked carelessly. “It’s fine in moderation.”

“No! Alcohol kills brain cells! If I want to do this job for as long as possible—”

“Yeah, fine, whatever. Quit being a stick in the mud.” Mao waved her hand in annoyance, pressed the enter key on her keyboard, and shouted at the maintenance man standing on the M9’s shoulder next to the cockpit hatch. “It’s done! Boot it up!”

“Right!” The maintenance man unplugged a tablet hooked up to the machine’s cockpit and closed the hatch. With practiced motions he descended to the ground and jogged away from the machine.

“May I ask a question?” Tessa asked, her gaze slightly pleading. “What exactly have you been working on?”

“I sent you the proposal, didn’t I? The one about studying the M9’s movement algorithms to make them capable of doing more varied and advanced maneuvers without a pilot,” Mao reminded her.

“But our current generation of AIs can’t perform combat maneuvers on complex terrain without a pilot,” said Tessa. “They might be able to make split-second decisions faster than a human, but the ability to evaluate a situation and make difficult decisions based on all factors is something that only human instinct—”

“Right, yeah. That proposal was just an excuse.”

“Eh?”

“Just watch,” Mao told her as the M9 stood up, executing the program she’d installed. Another M9 waiting across from it stood up at the same time. For some reason, this one was wrapped, from the waist down, in a waterproof tarp.

“Why does it have a skirt?” Tessa asked skeptically.

“Flavor.”

“Er?”

The hangar was large, even relative to the rest of the underground base, with a space reserved for performing simple movement tests. The two unpiloted M9s stomped up to the test space and faced each other down. Neither carried weapons, but stood across from each other like gladiators at the coliseum.

Are they about to wrestle? Tessa wondered. Even in such a vast testing space, the M9 was a powerful machine. It was against squad regulations to hold mock battles with them anywhere except the practice grounds on the surface.

Just before Tessa could remind them of this, Mao shouted, “Okay, let’s get started!”

“Right! Now... start!” The member of the maintenance staff pressed a button on a CD player, and an old-fashioned song began to play. A sad melody by an instrument that sounded like an organ rang out... It was a tango.

The M9s began stepping in time to the grandiose intro. One had masculine movements. The other, with the skirt, had feminine movements.

Guitars joined the organ, and the song grew more intense and passionate. Dun! Dundun, dun dun! The machines clasped each other in an embrace with perfect timing, sensor gazing into sensor. Then they took hands, turned their faces to the side and, still embracing, began walking to the left and right. The two M9s continued their brisk dance, their feet making a terrible ruckus on the floor.

“Yes, yes, yes! It’s totally working this time!” Mao said as she and the maintenance men watched excitedly from a distance. The back of the “female” M9 arched back in the arms of the “male” M9. “He” yanked “her” up, and then “she” spun away and then back into “his” arms, skirt flaring.

“Heh heh heh,” Mao chuckled. “Amazing, ain’t it?”

“It’s bizarre,” said Tessa. “This is your research project?”

“Yeah. Since they’ve got humanoid forms, I figured I’d play around a bit.”

“I wish you wouldn’t play around with cutting-edge weapons that cost tens of millions of dollars! I’m your commander. What am I supposed to say?!” Tessa jabbed her colonel rank insignia as she stared up at the other woman.

“Here it comes!” Mao crowed, completely ignoring her. “Right there... yes! Perfect!”

“Excuse me,” Tessa tried again. “Are you listening?!”

“Now the turn... yes! I’m totally winning the Christmas party talent show!” said Mao, who clearly wasn’t listening.

The M9s danced. The maintenance personnel cheered. And then it happened—the hands of the two machines, entwined as they whipped around in a circle like figure skaters, slipped. As a result, the “female” M9, spinning around the “male,” went flying with tremendous centripetal force.

“Ah...”

The M9 plowed through empty containers and crashed into the wall with an eardrum-splitting ruckus, snapping exposed pipes and girders in its wake. Water and steam began gushing from the severed pipes, and warning alarms began to blare.

Even now, in the middle of the practice ground and with its partner missing, the “male” M9 continued its strange dance moves. The maintenance men ran every which way, shouting and issuing orders:

“Dammit, what happened?!”

“Stop! Stop!”

“Close the valve! No, stop, you’ll be electrocuted!”

“Shut off that alarm, dammit!”

Watching the chaos unfold before her, Mao slumped over dejectedly. “Another failure,” she sighed. “I was so sure it was gonna work this time.”

Tessa patted her lightly on the back. “Don’t be so down. Cheer up, Melissa.”

“Thanks, Tessa.”

“I don’t need your thanks,” Tessa told her brightly. “I’ll bring the hammer down personally. Our battle group is poorer than it seems, you know.”

After freezing for a moment, Mao asked, “Um, I guess you’re cutting my pay?”

“Reports and damage estimates from all involved... Could you have them ready by tomorrow?” Tessa asked with a beatific smile.

 [In office until 1056 hours. Spoke with head of operations division on the phone. Received a commendable invitation but politely declined.]

Tessa left the hangar, which was in a flurry to clean up after the accident, and arrived at her office. She’d told her secretary the night before that she’d be in late the next day, so this wasn’t an issue. She replied to a few emails and did a little more light busywork before getting a call from the operations division headquarters in Sydney. It was Admiral Borda, head of the division.

They made a little small talk, and then the admiral said, “By the way, Teletha. Are you free over the weekend two weeks from now?”

“I could make myself free if need be,” Tessa answered. “What is it?”

“Oh, just a little get-together with some friends from my Navy days. I brought you to see them once before, remember? They really seemed to like you. I was hoping—”

“No,” she said flatly.

“But why?” Borda protested. “They’re all respectable men of the sea.”

“I know that, but...” She’d attended this get-together about a year ago and found it exhausting. Everyone in attendance was the admiral’s age or older, veterans of the major wars of the latter half of the 20th century—Korea, Vietnam, the Gulf. Besides this, they were exhausting to deal with: all of them were macho, belligerent old men, puffing on their cigars and cigarettes, throwing F-bombs willy-nilly. They acted like a bunch of children, but as they were all her respected elders, she didn’t feel comfortable voicing her discomfort.

On top of that, they were so delighted to meet a teenage girl able to keep up with their talk of naval battles and geopolitics that they never let her get a moment’s peace. And when she told them about her cutting-edge weapons systems, they did nothing but find fault. “What in the world?” they’d scoffed, “Can’t modern sailors read a sea chart without relying on machines?” She didn’t want to participate in something so nerve-racking again.

“Tell me why,” Borda pleaded. “Was it Kevin’s talk of his female conquests?”

“Not just that.”

“Roy’s talk about the STD he caught in Saigon?”

“I thought I might faint.”

“Thomas showing the tattoo he got on his you-know-what?”

“Of course!” Tessa exploded. “I’ve been traumatized for life! I’d admired him as a fine submariner before then. Can you imagine my disillusionment?!’

Borda’s friends were old-fashioned types for whom sexual harassment was a foreign concept; they all seemed to think that hitting on a beautiful girl was how you showed her respect. Some of them were even legends on a global scale, but the impression they’d made on Tessa was that of a bunch of nasty old men who thought with their private parts more than their brains.

“Don’t be like that,” Borda told her. “They’re all good men.”

“They’re more like a group of delinquents in heat!” Tessa replied tartly.

“Fine, fine. I’ll remind them to be on their best behavior. Can’t you make time?”

“I don’t trust you.”

“It’s educational, isn’t it? And despite how they look, they’ve been through a lot in their lives,” he reminded her. “I think it’s all right to give them a party, surrounding a beautiful girl as comfort in their empty retirement years.”

“Liar,” Tessa said flatly. “You just enjoy tormenting me.”

“Hmm... well, there is that, but... No, Teletha! Don’t hang up! I’m joking!”

Tessa was about to hang up but stopped. “We have nothing more to talk about, do we? I’m sure you have business to attend to.”

“Don’t be so stubborn,” Borda tried again. “It’s an honor to be invited to a gathering like this, you know. Only men of Mardukas’s standing or higher get invites.”

“Then why don’t you invite him?”

“Dick is boring. He’ll probably spend the entire time in a corner with a calculator in one hand, tallying up the party expenditures.”

Tessa’s eyelids began to droop as she imagined this very plausible scene. Incidentally, the American Mithril veterans all called Richard Mardukas “Dick,” though the English Mardukas himself hated the name.

“Regardless, I’m not going,” she told him. “And the venue is on the East Coast, isn’t it? I certainly don’t have time to travel that far.”

“All right. So if it was nearby, you’d make time? Hawaii or Guam, maybe?”

“Stop it. I’m not going.”

“Just think it over,” Borda wheedled. “John G’s organizing this year, and I’m sure he’ll be flexible. I’ll check back in later. See you.”

“Wait a minute. Uncle? Oh, for...” After he’d hung up, Tessa gazed at the phone for a few moments and let out a sigh. She’d have to send him an email reiterating her position. If they changed the venue to accommodate her, she wouldn’t be able to refuse. They might be a band of bad-news brats, but they were also storied veterans. Some had experience as flag officers, and some were admired even within Mithril.

“Colonel.” Likely having waited for her call to be over, Tessa’s secretary, Jacqueline Villain, poked her head in the office door. Villain was in her mid-twenties, a striking woman with blonde hair and tanned skin. Though she seemed like the athletic type, she had the aura of a head librarian.

“What is it?”

“Message from MM regarding the upgrades to the MH-67 Pave Mare. They’re going to send us the sound-dampening system specifications.”

“I see,” said Tessa. “Any other messages?”

“No, ma’am,” the secretary responded briskly before leaving.

Villain was always blunt like that. She felt like the kind of person who’d never had a private conversation in her life. Initially, Tessa had wondered if Villain perhaps disliked her, but that seemed not to be the case either. She would kindly refill her tea and occasionally brought her homemade chiffon cake. Last Christmas, she’d given her a lovely music box as a present. She’s probably just the no-nonsense type, Tessa had realized then.

She booted up her email and looked through the plans sent by Martin Marietta. She made a list of problematic elements and replied. It took less than five minutes.

“Now...” Tessa adjusted her position in her office chair. She’d found herself in the unexpected position of having absolutely nothing to do. What an awful prospect! Unable to withstand the thought of being alone with her thoughts, she rose to her feet.

Yes, that stuffed animal... She had the idea of looking for the missing stuffed animal under the pretense of wandering around and observing her subordinates. She was certainly hesitant to ask Villain to lead a search for a missing item.

For instance...

‘Lieutenant. Contact all squads in the base and tell them to search for my stuffed animal. Make it a priority.’

‘Yes, at once, ma’am.’

‘It’s a brown puppy. I can’t sleep a wink without it. Is that understood?’

‘Understood, Colonel.’

Such a conversation would surely lower the morale of all the officers. So instead, Tessa pulled her flight jacket on over her uniform, put on her Tuatha de Danaan hat, and swapped her pumps for sneakers.

The base’s effective lost and found was located in the base’s engineer corps office. She told Villain she was heading out and left her office.

[1144 hours: Paid a visit to the engineer corps and observed their systems in action. Met with SRT lieutenant and learned more about his personality and interests.]

“C-Colonel, you really didn’t have to come all this way. If you’d just called us, we could have searched for you,” the private in charge of the lost and found office, which happened to be part of the engineer corps, said nervously.

His behavior was understandable; she was the lofty commander of a battle group that included old, respected hands like Colonel Mardukas and Major Kalinin, after all. To a rank-and-file soldier like this one, Teletha Testarossa would possess a powerful mystique. Although Tessa herself didn’t realize it, the private’s expression as he stared at her was one of awe.

A gentle smile appeared on Tessa’s face as she responded, “Well, it’s a very personal item. And I happened to be in the neighborhood anyway.”

“Oh, really?” he asked. “What are you looking for?”

“Well... er...” She was hesitant to admit she was looking for a stuffed animal.

It was then that a uniformed NCO appeared in the office, a handsome man with blond hair and blue eyes: Sergeant Kurz Weber of the SRT. “Well, well, if it isn’t Tessa. What brings you here?”

“Weber-san? Oh, I just...”

“Lost something?” he suggested. “Lunch box, gym clothes, textbook, pencil case?”

“I’m not a child... It’s just a personal item,” Tessa grumbled in protest.

“Oh? All right. Anyway, you the lost and found guy?” Kurz asked, turning to the private.

“Yes, Sergeant. I’m usually the storekeeper, but this week I’m on desk duty.”

“Oh, yeah? Anyway, I found these,” said Kurz, placing a large paper bag on top of the desk.

The private searched through it and pulled out a few VHS tapes. “What are these?” They were all animated movies, Disney films like Beauty and the Beast and Hercules, as well as Japanese films like My Neighbor Totoro and Kiki’s Delivery Service.

“Found ’em in the locker room,” Kurz said. “I figured someone’s gonna come looking for ’em, so hand it over when they do.”

“Yes, sir. Now, if I could have your signature in the log—”

“Oh, sorry. I’m in a hurry right now.”

“Wait, Sergeant! Your signature—”

“Just fill in whatever. See ya.” Kurz took off without a second glance.

The private turned back to Tessa, who’d been watching quietly the whole time, and whispered pleadingly, “I don’t know what to do. The rules say they need to be signed in.”

Tessa giggled. “I’ll cover for you. None of it is especially valuable, after all.”

“Th-Thank you, Colonel...”

“You’re welcome. Now, regarding my lost item...”

“Oh, of course. Sorry, ma’am.” The private opened up the log and looked through it. “Four lost items have been brought here over the last two days other than the videos. A watch, a sketchbook, a makeup kit, and a hardcover book. Is it any of those?”

“Oh, is that all you have?”

“Yes.”

Tessa let out a quiet sigh. “I suppose not, then. I’ll have to look elsewhere.”

“What went missing? I can call you if it shows up.”

“N-No, it’s all right. I’ll try again later.” Tessa forced a smile to her face and was about to leave when Lieutenant Belfangan Clouseau entered.

Clouseau was a tall African-Canadian man with an extremely trim appearance. He’d been appointed SRT team leader back in October, and he tended to keep a very busy schedule.

“Oh, Clouseau-san.”

“Greetings, Colonel,” Clouseau responded with a salute.

Just then, Tessa realized that he looked rather tired. Clouseau’s skin color made it hard for her to read changes in his complexion, but she could tell that his eyes were bloodshot. His tapered jaw was darkened with five o’clock shadow and his usually pristine battledress was rumpled. “Did you lose something as well? And I must say, you look rather tired,” Tessa mentioned, looking worried.

Clouseau responded abashedly, “Well, I’ve had a lot of all-nighters lately. It’s about the new equipment. Now that I received the summary, I’ve been reevaluating our tactics from square one.”

Tessa knew just what he was referring to: new equipment for the M9 they were developing with the help of an external agency. It wasn’t exactly a weapon, but it could be quite useful if employed the right way. “I see,” she replied. “But it won’t be complete for a while yet, and she still may change the final plans on a whim. If you work yourself too hard, you’ll have a breakdown.”

Clouseau gave her a sheepish smile. “I appreciate the concern, but I can handle what I’m doing. I’m still capable of executing any mission in top condition.” Though he said that, there was no real confidence in Clouseau’s manner. Tessa was just wondering if he was really all right when, seeming to notice that, he added, “Of course, I do plan to take it easy today. I was hoping to have a nice cup of tea in my room while watching some movies, but the tapes themselves have gone missing.”

“Tapes?” she echoed.

“Yes. Some videos I’d left at my last posting arrived here yesterday. They were left in the locker room, but...”

“Oh, I think those just arrived. Right?” she prompted, turning back to the private.

“Yes. Right here.”

Clouseau took the paper bag full of videos from the private and checked the contents.

“Is that it, Lieutenant?”

“Hmm? Ah... hmm, yes. These are mine. Sorry for the trouble.” Clouseau thanked the private, then drew in close and whispered something into his ear.

The private’s eyes opened wide, and he responded with an earnest, “Yes, sir!”

Next, he walked up to Tessa. “Colonel,” he said with an odd tone in his voice.

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry to ask this,” Clouseau said, “but... did you see what was in this bag?”

“Yes. Is that a problem?”

“Well, er... I don’t know exactly how to put this, but I was hoping you could not mention to the others that I watch these kinds of movies.”

“Why is that?” she asked out of innocent curiosity.

Clouseau responded abashedly, “I’m the leader of the SRT.”

“Yes?”

“I’m next in rank to Major Kalinin in the ground unit. In order to maintain unity among experienced officers, I must present myself as the model soldier,” he explained. “I’m not so foolish as to try to insist that I come off as macho, but I don’t want them thinking of me as a sentimental man. An officer like me should be watching more serious movies. Socially conscious documentaries and such.”

“R-Really?”

“Absolutely,” Clouseau declared firmly. “And so... If the men beneath me knew that the way I unwind after a tense mission is to watch these sorts of movies, that I read hobbyist magazines to learn more about upcoming works in the genre, and that I’m a regular on certain internet review sites... it would be extremely bad for squad morale.” He rattled off the explanation, greasy sweat appearing on his forehead.

It made Tessa wonder how others would feel if they knew she was searching for a stuffed animal. “Enjoying animation isn’t such a big deal,” she told him.

“Yes, it absolutely is!” Clouseau said in irritation. “Colonel, please consider what I’ve asked. Keeping my proclivities secret is a necessity to preserve the ground unit’s battle readiness. It’s not my own standing that I’m worried about. I’m asking you this in the name of maintaining unity among the squad—”

“If you’re that worried, why don’t you stop watching them?” Tessa asked.

Clouseau froze up as if he’d been struck by lightning. After a very... very long pause, he responded, as if squeezing the words from his throat. “Well... I-If that’s your order, I’ll certainly follow it.” His reply was a pained one, as if she’d ordered him to shoot an innocent civilian.

“I’m joking,” she said kindly. “Don’t worry, Clouseau-san. I won’t ask you to drop the small pleasures from your life, and I won’t tell anyone about them, either.”

Clouseau let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Colonel. Forgive me for my rudeness. Now, if you’ll excuse me...” He gave her a polite salute, then strode out of the room.

Well, of all people... He’d come out of the super-elite SAS and was a skilled AS operator who had even beaten Sousuke easily in battle. I would have never thought he had that side to him. Tessa meditated on these thoughts for some time.

[1303 hours: Did some investigation regarding matter of import from this morning (content classified). Shared lunch and conversation with ground unit operations commander. Came to understand him more deeply.]

Where could I have left it? While trying to figure out where her stuffed animal could be, Tessa walked along through the base’s main artery, Corridor No. 0, by herself. It was wide enough to easily accommodate the base’s electric transport vehicles, and each side had a slightly elevated pedestrian sidewalk.

Most of the Merida Island Base, which stretched to two kilometers in length, had been built underground. Because most of their funding had gone into the amphibious assault submarine, the facility itself was as bare-bones as could be. Even the passage she was walking through now was extremely Spartan—all concrete, girders, and exposed plumbing and wiring. It was just like an underground tunnel under construction, and once every few days the roof began leaking. When part of the base’s drainage system had broken down, the entire base staff had been forced to mobilize into a bucket chain.

Had they built the same base on the surface, they could’ve made something much better for the same amount of money, but there were reasons not to have done so. Mithril was a top-secret mercenary organization, and the best way to keep their plans and operations secret from empires like the United States and the USSR was to build the base underground. It kept them hidden from various spy satellites, particularly the USA’s Keyhole series.

Most modern spy satellites were equipped with infrared sensors with a resolution in mere centimeters. Building a base on the surface and using the jungle above it as camouflage wouldn’t be enough to fool them. Just by analyzing various heat sources—personnel and active vehicles—a specialist would be able to estimate the exact scale and status of their organization.

But all that aside...

While she walked down Corridor No. 0, fragments of memories replayed themselves in Tessa’s mind. Let’s think a bit more about last night, she reasoned. I drank Mao’s spiked drink, then what? I went to my bedroom, I’m sure. I didn’t take off my uniform, just dove into my big bed, hugged my stuffed animal tight... and then what? She couldn’t remember. Logically, she should have gone right to sleep and woken up the next morning. Why did I leave my room? she wondered next. Why would I get out of my bed after falling asleep?

“The phone...” she murmured. Yes. The phone had rung. The phone in her room.

But who called me? That she couldn’t recall. She pressed her fingers to her temples and hummed as she attempted to trace her memory back, but failed to do so. Left with no other choice, she caught a ride on a passing base vehicle and returned to the living quarters.

She messed with the phone beside her bed to check her call history. The most recent number had come in last night at 2 am.

0148 KALININ. A (MAJ)

This would have been Major Andrey Kalinin, commander of the ground unit.

Eh? 0148 hours... What could he have wanted from her at that time of night? The major would never call on personal business so late. It had to be work-related, but then...

She called his office, but his secretary, a corporal, answered and told her the major was off today. Tessa recalled that, at one of their regular meetings a few days ago, she’d asked the major to take a few of his saved-up vacation days. He must have done just as she’d asked.

She could have called him in his room, but as the officers’ block was nearby, Tessa decided to go there herself.

She knocked on Major Kalinin’s door, which opened a moment later to reveal a large, gray-haired Russian. He was tall, roughly 190 centimeters, and for some reason wore a red checkered apron over his fatigues that frankly looked a bit silly.

“Colonel? What is it?” Kalinin asked, looking surprised to see her. He held a large wooden ladle in his right hand, while in his left there was a bottle of wine.

“Oh... Kalinin-san. I’m sorry to disturb you,” said Tessa. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“No, of course you aren’t.”

“I wanted to consult with you on some minor business.”

“I see. By all means, come in.” Kalinin stepped to the side in order to let Tessa into the room.

She’d never been into Kalinin’s private quarters before, and now discovered they had a staid color scheme. There was dark oak furniture he’d brought in from somewhere, and the bookshelves that took up two whole walls gave it a sense of maturity.

Tessa looked at the books on the shelves. Unlike his cabin on the Tuatha de Danaan, which was stocked with technical manuals, most of these were literature. Many were in Cyrillic, but there were exceptions, like a collection by William Blake, the English poet, which was sitting at the edge of his desk.

“Colonel. Have you had lunch yet?” Kalinin asked as he led her to the dining area and indicated a seat.

“Oh. I haven’t yet, actually.”

“Would you like to join me?” he suggested. “I was making my special borscht.”

Tessa could smell a delicious aroma wafting up from the kitchen in the back of the dining area. Needless to say, borscht was a famous Russian dish, a soup filled with beef and vegetables that took its dazzling red color from beets.

Kalinin cooks? she thought in surprise, then answered with a smile, “You’re certain? I’d be delighted.”

“I would be honored,” he replied. “Shall I invite Sergeant Sagara as well, as long as we’re making it an event?”

“Oh...”

Without waiting for Tessa’s response, Kalinin picked up his room phone. He punched in the number, waited, and... “It’s me. I’m making that borscht again. Yes, I see. Understood.” With that bare-bones exchange, he hung up the phone. “What a shame. He says he has other plans and can’t come.”

“I see,” Tessa whispered. Her feelings on the matter were fairly complicated: she was anxious about the idea of seeing Sagara again, so she was genuinely relieved to hear he wouldn’t be coming... Yet in the same thought, she was sad about his absence.

Kalinin, whether or not he was aware of her emotional turmoil, continued on easily. “It’s strange how often he’s busy when I call him. Bad luck, I suppose.”

“It does seem that way,” Tessa agreed neutrally.

“Now, wait just a moment. I think it should be finished in...” Kalinin checked the clock on the wall. “...245 seconds.”

“What?”

“241 seconds. Excuse me.” With that, he withdrew to the kitchen.

She could hear the sound of bubbling soup and the repeated sound of the ladle splashing in and stirring. It seemed like an extremely precise ritual, performed every fifteen seconds exactly.

He’s... cooking? Tessa decided not to think about it too deeply and simply do what she’d come here to do. She called to the kitchen from the dining room, “Kalinin-san.”

“Yes?”

“Did you call me last night?”

“Affirmative.”

“And... this is hard to ask, but what did we talk about?” she asked hesitantly. “I was very tired, and my memory is hazy.”

“You don’t remember?”

“I’m sorry. I’ll be sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“There’s no issue there,” he said easily. “But it wasn’t anything particularly important. I was simply seeking permission to run a basic test on the base’s early warning system.”

The moment he’d said it, she remembered. Kalinin had informed her of the test over the phone, and Tessa had replied groggily, “Yes, that’s fine. Do whatever you like.”

“You said you’d come to watch the test yourself, and I told you not to trouble yourself and to go back to sleep. Nevertheless, you insisted you were coming. But you said you might be a bit late and that we were free to start without you.”

“D-Did I say that?” She couldn’t quite remember that part.

“Since I had your permission, I conducted the test. Then Colonel Mardukas contacted me to say you wouldn’t be there. I assumed that you’d demurred due to exhaustion from your daily duties.”

It wasn’t an important test, but Tessa still felt embarrassed about having entirely forgotten it. And... “Mardukas-san told you I wasn’t coming?”

“Yes,” Kalinin affirmed. “Around 0300 hours.”

“...”

Which meant... Had she run into Mardukas after the phone call? Had he seen the condition she was in, declared her unfit for duty, and called Kalinin to let him know? In other words, had the finicky Mardukas seen her falling-down drunk? Oh, of all the awful blunders... she thought. Tessa, now deeply depressed, slumped over the table.

“Colonel. Is there some issue?”

“No... It’s fine. I’m repenting a hundred times over in my mind,” said Tessa.

Kalinin made no more than a small sound of inquiry, but soon after, the sound of the burner turned off. It had been exactly 245 seconds since Kalinin’s initial declaration. “It’s done,” he said, returning to the dining room. He laid out dishes and bread on the table before placing a pot stand in the center. He went once more into the kitchen and returned with a copper pot. Here he conducted himself with extreme caution, as if handling a live bomb. “I hope you enjoy it,” Kalinin said as he dealt the borscht out into the white china bowls. Once again, his motions were as if he were handling explosive nitroglycerin.

“It’s rather mysterious, but it smells wonderful,” Tessa said as she sniffed.

“Yes. I believe that as far as the smell goes, this is the most successful test batch I’ve created,” Kalinin told her modestly.

“T-Test batch?”

“I’ve only recently begun experimenting with home cooking.”

Tessa gulped silently.

“This dish was my late wife’s specialty. During my time in the Soviet army, when I returned home after a mission, my beloved Irina would always serve me borscht.” Kalinin’s gaze briefly became distant. “It was apparently a special recipe. She added some kind of extra seasoning to the usual borscht ingredients... but I couldn’t tell what it was. The illness took her before I could ever ask.”

“I see,” Tessa whispered mournfully.

“I’ve been running experiments to try to replicate the flavor of my wife’s special borscht. I add various ingredients and take detailed notes each time, then run careful analyses when I have a free moment.”

“Aha...”

“My hard work seems to be paying off, as my recreation of her special borscht has been nearing completion. And today I arrived at my definitive conclusion: the ingredients missing from my previous borscht attempts were cocoa powder and miso paste,” Kalinin proclaimed with confidence.

Tessa just stared at him a moment before asking, “Excuse me?”

“Cocoa powder and miso paste,” he repeated. “You’re familiar with miso paste, aren’t you? It’s an ingredient in Japanese miso soup.”

“But aren’t you making borscht?”

“Yes, but it requires cocoa and miso.”

Tessa fell silent as she looked down at the borscht—rather, the borscht-like substance—and felt a slight chill run up her spine. It was a red soup filled with thoroughly boiled ingredients, with a dab of white cream in the center. It looked perfectly normal from here... Or was the soup a little too brown to properly be called “crimson”? In fact, was it perhaps a bit cloudy?

“Help yourself, Colonel,” Kalinin invited. “I’m honored to have you be the first to taste my successful recreation of my late wife’s special borscht.”

“Th-Thank you...” She gave him an awkward smile and picked up the spoon. She swallowed hard, not from anticipation, but from fear. Timidly, she scooped up some soup with the spoon and brought it to her lips. After a moment’s hesitation, she delicately placed it into her mouth.

A sweetness immediately spread through it, difficult to quantify. It was a truly indescribable flavor. If forced to compare it to something, she would say it was a bit like the Dr. Pepper she’d had at Chidori Kaname’s house once before. Warm Dr. Pepper, at that. If nothing else, it didn’t taste like borscht in the slightest. “Mm? Mmgh?!”

Kalinin sat down opposite Tessa and carefully watched her reaction. He was always so businesslike and no-nonsense; this was the first time she’d ever seen him relaxed at all. He was the picture of a man finding a fleeting moment of peace in the middle of bloody days spent fighting terrorism. Could she really afford to spoil this precious time with a subordinate she relied upon so thoroughly?

“It’s... delicious,” she proclaimed confidently, her face pale and her body trembling. Had Mao been there, she likely would have patted her on the back and praised her for her benevolence.

“I’m glad.” Kalinin poured some of the mystery soup into his own bowl and promptly ate a spoonful.

Tessa held her breath as she watched for his reaction.

He let out a small sigh. “Yes, this is it,” he whispered. “Whenever I was due to leave from Moscow on military business for an extended period of time, Irina would always take me to task. She’d call me a rotten, inconsiderate louse. Yet when I would return after the mission was over, she’d silently serve me this borscht. I’d say it was delicious, and she’d always say, ‘You really mean that?’ And even now, I... No. Enough sentimentality.” Kalinin truly seemed to be enjoying the strange soup.

“Um, I think...”

“What is it?”

“Oh, nothing.” Tessa was about to say that it sounded like his wife had been trying to get back at him, but she stopped herself. She couldn’t help but feel sympathy for a man who ran the kind of missions that would make even this meal seem delicious.

“Now, Colonel, please help yourself,” he invited her again. “There’s enough soup for five, after all.”

“Y-Yes...” Feeling something close to despair, Tessa’s trembling hand brought a second spoonful to her mouth. She felt keenly aware of why Sousuke had said something about previous plans and begged off.

[1421 hours: Witnessed a serious incident between an SRT officer and NCO in Block D3 of Corridor No. 0. Attempted to mediate as battle group commander, then received advice from battle group vice commander.]

Tessa commended herself for making it through exactly half a bowl of borscht, but begged off the rest, using her diet as an excuse. Then, conveying all the regrets in the world, she finally left Kalinin’s room. She wanted to get back to her original objective of figuring out what she’d done the night before.

Last night, in a daze, she’d left her room with her stuffed animal, then interacted with Mardukas somehow. That meant her next stop had to be Mardukas’s office. She could have just called him but knew he could be even more prickly on the phone than he was in their normal daily interactions. She’d probably end up awkwardly stumbling over her words and getting nowhere.

So instead, she left the residential block for the office block once more. This time, though, she didn’t take a car, instead opting for the slow walk down Corridor No. 0 by herself. It wasn’t as if she had anything to do today, and this would let her put off the conversation with Mardukas for as long as possible.

As she was walking, Tessa heard a commotion and the sound of angry shouting in the distance. She’d stopped to listen when suddenly, Kurz came running out from around the corner. He didn’t even acknowledge her presence as he slipped in between two stacks of small containers in a parking area nearby.

“Excuse me, Weber-san?”

“Shh! Tell him I ran that way! Got it? Thanks!”

“What in the—”

Without responding, Kurz lifted up a waterproof tarp and hid underneath it. Then, before Tessa could even begin to figure out what was going on, Clouseau arrived. His shoulders heaved with breath, his bloodshot eyes scanned the area desperately, and he held a mop in his hands.

“What’s the matter?” she asked dazedly.

“Colonel. Have you seen Weber?!” Clouseau asked, whipping his head around. His lack of salute suggested that he must be completely beside himself—while their squadron wasn’t particularly hung up on such formalities, Clouseau himself usually was.

“Well... I do believe he ran that way...” Tessa responded hesitantly, pointing in the direction Kurz had asked her to.

“Thank you. Goodbye.” Clouseau was about to run off when she called after him.

“Wait a moment, Clouseau-san. What happened?”

“I...” he stopped, hesitated, then said, “It’s about... those videos. I’d just taken them back to my room to watch them, when... at the climactic moment...” He turned his eyes down, shoulders trembling, as if desperately trying to repress the aura of rage rising up within him. But, failing to find the right words to explain, he began to sum up the situation in a low, dark hiss. “Extraordinarily effective psychological warfare. Completely ruined the atmosphere. I know who did it. I’m going to find him and make him pay for defiling a masterpiece. Goodbye.”

“Wait—”

But Clouseau was gone before she could say another word.

“And off he goes,” Kurz said as he rustled off the tarp and revealed himself behind Tessa. “I didn’t think it’d get to him that bad. What a laugh. Now I’ve gotten him back for beating us up at the pub. Heh heh heh...”

“What in the world did you do to those videos?” Tessa asked.

Kurz grinned. “Oh, nothing much. Just messed with them a little before turning them over to lost and found. I doubled some shocking images over the movies’ climaxes—scenes from a meat processing plant, hardcore gay porn, underground shockumentary stuff...”

“That’s awful.” It was like taking the stuffing out of someone’s favorite stuffed animal and replacing it with worms and garbage. It must have been extremely traumatic for Clouseau, who she’d learned was quite sentimental beneath his hard-nosed exterior. “Weber-san, you went too far.”

“Really?”

“Really,” she said firmly. “I would have used more subtle and clever subject matter. Like an awful Roger Corman movie or a closeup of Saddam Hussein’s face.”

“You call that subtle?”

“The point is, what you did is unacceptable. Everyone has things they value. Apologize to him later,” Tessa told him. “That’s an order.”

“Okay, but I don’t think the lieutenant is gonna—”

“Weber! There you are!” barked a voice. Tessa turned back and saw Clouseau, mop still in hand, striding over to where they stood.

“Heh heh. So you finally caught on. I was getting tired of running and hiding anyway.” With a cocky smile, Kurz pulled a hefty ball shooter seemingly from out of nowhere.

“Wait, Weber-san!” Tessa cried to no avail.

“Take this!” Kurz declared. There was a whump! as a rubber ball the size of a fist flew straight at its target.

Clouseau showed no sign of surprise or panic; instead, he just thrust the tip of his mop into the ball, shattering it into pieces on impact. It was a nearly superhuman move.

“Not bad, Lieutenant,” Kurz said with admiration.

“Very precise shooting, Sergeant,” Clouseau replied. “But too easy to see coming.”

“Um... Clouseau-san? Weber-san?” Tessa panicked.

The two elite soldiers faced each other down, sparks flying between them. “I hope you’re prepared for what’s to come, Sergeant...” Clouseau said darkly.

“Oh, and what’s that?”

“The crime you’ve committed is deeper than the sea. Kiki was... Kiki was... She was working so hard to save Tombo from the airship... and you spliced in footage of the Hindenberg?! There are some things that simply aren’t done...”

“I don’t remember doing that,” Kurz commented neutrally, “but let’s say I did. What’ll you do about it?”

“I’ll close that smart mouth of yours forever.”

They both moved at the same instant. Kurz firing his gun with practiced movements, Clouseau swinging the mop fast enough to cause a sonic boom. They collided and separated, struck and dodged, evaded... then collided again. Clouseau was by far the better melee combatant, but Kurz’s skills as a soldier were nothing to sneeze at. He slid with great precision through his opponent’s attacks and tried to fire a rubber ball into his abdomen.

“Sheesh, you’re a grown man!” said Kurz. “Have a little grace!”

“Shut up!” Clouseau bellowed in reply. “I’ll never forgive you for this!”

“Take this, and this, and this!”

“All pointless!”

Tessa was at a loss for what to do. Ridiculous origins aside, this was a titanic match she almost wished the other soldiers could witness. “Please stop this already,” she implored them. “Do you hear me, you two?!”

“Enough already! Both of you!” came a sudden rebuke.

Clouseau and Kurz both froze in place.

Tessa turned in surprise and saw Lieutenant Colonel Richard Mardukas, her vice commander, standing there. “Heaven’s sake... I thought I’d heard a commotion over here. Didn’t you hear your captain’s order?! Explain yourselves!” Mardukas shouted, hands behind his back.

This must have snapped him out of his furor, because Clouseau suddenly came to attention. “Forgive me, Colonel! I’ve been acting in an unbecoming manner.”

“Clouseau. You are the SRT’s team leader, are you not? What kind of behavior is this for a role model? For shame!” lectured Mardukas.

“Yes, sir. I don’t know what to say. I lost my head.”

“You’re damn straight you lost your head,” Kurz said.

Immediately, Mardukas whapped Kurz across the head with the documents in his hand, full-force.

“Ow! What was that for?!”

“Quiet! Show some respect to your superior officer! Do you want another pay cut?” Mardukas threatened.

“Uh? I’d rather not...”

“Then fix that attitude of yours!” The vice commander shouted at him, the vein in his forehead throbbing. His shoulders were heaving, and he had a hand over his solar plexus as if to staunch a stinging pain.

“Ah... Are you all right, Colonel?” Kurz asked.

“Y-Yes, I’m fine... Ah, but stop worrying about me and fix your posture!” As Mardukas began to jab at his back and knees, Kurz came to attention. “At any rate. I don’t know what’s come up between you two, but I can’t have you fighting over personal business out here. I simply won’t tolerate it. The next time you do something like this, I’m transferring you to sewage processing duty, permanently! I mean it,” Mardukas told them. “Understood?!”

“Sir,” Clouseau confirmed.

“Sure,” Kurz answered.

“Besides, don’t you realize that your current actions are a waste of your talents? Can’t you channel your excess energy in a more productive manner? Youth is a treasure,” Markdukas continued. “Time can’t be turned back, but you want to spend yours on these silly little fights? When I was your age, I channeled all my efforts into mastering advanced knowledge and skills. I didn’t have time to quarrel with anyone else. Call it a boring youth if you wish, but as time passes, such efforts are always rewarded. In fact, twenty years ago, I competed with a man my age serving on the same ship and beat him in skill to be assigned to day duty. Do you know why that is? Because while he was spending his spare time on fun and games, I was poring over technical manuals and essays. Do you hear me? It always pays off. In other words, the most important thing here is—”

Mardukas’s lecture went on in this manner for five more minutes. He’d gotten so far off the subject that even the quick-witted Tessa had completely lost the thread. He finished with, “...and that’s what the Persian Gulf taught me: a superior soldier beats superior weaponry every time. So that’s what I’m telling you! Do you understand?!”

“Yes, sir...” Kurz, Clouseau—and for some reason Tessa—all replied weakly. None of them really understood what they were supposed to take from it, but also knew that admission would just prolong the encounter.

“Yes, good. Dismissed.”

Kurz and Clouseau’s first reaction was to turn and look at each other guardedly.

“Didn’t you hear me?!” Mardukas repeated. “I said, dismissed!”

The SRT personnel reluctantly began moving in different directions. Each was muttering resentfully to themselves, but Mardukas was still glaring at them, so they didn’t fight any further.

Once the two men were gone, Mardukas cleared his throat. “Goodness, what a troublesome bunch they are.”

“Oh? Ah... yes. They certainly are,” Tessa replied, forcing an awkward smile onto her face.

She then remembered why she’d been walking down this hall in the first place, which was because Kalinin’s testimony had suggested she’d left her room last night while half asleep and half drunk to wander around the base. He’d also said it was Mardukas who’d informed him that she wouldn’t be showing up for the drill, which suggested Mardukas had seen her in some kind of compromised position... That fussy Mardukas, of all people! And of course, it being entirely her own fault, she wouldn’t have a leg to stand on if he chose to take her to task for her behavior...

How... How should I ask him about it? she wondered uneasily.

There were two people in the battle group who could strip Tessa of her authority. One was Captain Goldberry, their doctor, and the other was Mardukas.

Captain Goldberry, a kind woman, could strip her of command for health-related reasons. Mardukas could do likewise, with the agreement of three or more senior officers, if he felt her judgment had become compromised. It was appropriate, given the cutting-edge submarine and ASes under her command, to give watchdog power to the battle group’s second in command and its doctor.

While Tessa trusted and relied on Mardukas, she was always worried about whether he truly had faith in her abilities. Her worst fear was about to come true.

“What’s the matter, Captain? Is something troubling you?” he asked.

“Well...” Tessa said meekly. “Er... about last night.”

“Yes? What about it?”

“I really am sorry. Very sorry. It was behavior unbecoming for someone upon whose judgment so many lives rest. I’m going to make sure it never happens again... so could you please overlook it just this once?” Tessa hadn’t meant to sound so needy, but she couldn’t help it.

Mardukas, in turn, simply adjusted his silver-rimmed glasses and scowled. “I’m sorry; I don’t fully understand. Is choosing to watch the submarine’s sonar test rather than the base’s early warning system test really that grievous an error?”

“Er...?”

“I received a call that said ‘Colonel Testarossa is needed for discussion in the sonar shack, so she won’t be able to make it to the base’s command center. Please tell Major Kalinin,’” he explained. “I passed the message on.”

Tessa fell silent. Someone else had told Mardukas she wouldn’t be there, and then he’d passed the message on to Kalinin? Which meant Mardukas hadn’t personally seen her walking around the halls holding a stuffed animal? “Er...”

“Tell me, Captain, did something inappropriate occur?”

“No, of course not! Just a misunderstanding. Forget everything I said,” Tessa responded reflexively while thinking, I don’t have to tell him. Just make sure he never learns about it!

Mardukas regarded her silently for a minute, then, looking slightly unsatisfied, said, “I see. That’s fine, then.” He cleared his throat. “Regardless, it’s good to have Kalinin in charge of the SRT. They truly do seem to be a band of ruffians. It’s understandable that you would struggle with them. Now, farewell.”

“Ah... wait, Mardukas-san.”

“Yes?” Mardukas stopped and turned around.

“Er... who was it that told you I wouldn’t be coming last night?”

“Ma’am. It was...” His expression clouded over slightly. “...Sergeant Sagara.”

“Sagara-san?” Tessa repeated with surprise.

“Yes. Speaking of which, it’s about time for him to be returning to Tokyo, I believe.”

Tessa ran, shoulders heaving, through the commotion that surrounded her.

The Merida Island Base’s airfield consisted of one two-thousand-meter runway and an underground hangar. The surface airstrip was covered in a canopy camouflaged to look like broad-leafed trees, and only when aircraft were given clearance to take off or land did the control room give permission to retract it. It was a two-thousand-meter-long canopy, after all—130,000 square meters in terms of simple area, many times larger than any baseball stadium with a retractable roof.

The noise it made while it moved was also so intense that it could be heard even from underneath the base.

“Hahh... hahh...” Tessa ran willy-nilly through the large hangar directly beneath the runway. It was several times larger than the hangar deck of the Tuatha de Danaan and bustling with the work of maintaining and refueling the various C-130 and C-17 transports, as well as the other aircraft that lined it. On one side of the hangar sat a massive elevator, sized to ferry transports back and forth from the surface. Alarms indicating elevator’s ascension were currently blaring through the hangar.

The various base staff hard at work around her watched Tessa’s passage curiously, but she just kept running, ignoring them all.

She’d finally remembered. When she’d left her room in the middle of the night to wander around the base, the person she’d run into was Sousuke. She’d said all kinds of self-serving things to him—telling him that she hated him, that he clearly didn’t care about her. Nevertheless, he’d looked after her with great care, urging her to keep her voice down and promising to look after her. After much sturm und drang, she’d said she was going home. But when he’d attempted to escort her to her room on the base, she’d insisted he take her to her captain’s quarters aboard the Tuatha de Danaan instead.

The large elevator carrying the small turboprop craft had slowly begun to rise. Tessa just barely managed to climb onto it, earning wide-eyed stares from the base personnel as they went through their final takeoff checklists beside the plane.

“Sagara-san!” Tessa shouted, trying to be heard over the engine’s roar.

Sagara Sousuke, wearing a large backpack, had just begun ascending the ramp. He turned to her, eyes wide in disbelief, then tossed his backpack into the plane and walked back down the ramp to approach her.

Tessa doubled over, hands on her knees, struggling to catch her breath. She then walked up to him and said, “I... last night... I know I made a lot of trouble for you... and I wanted to apologize...”

Sousuke just stared at her.

“Sagara-san, I’m sorry,” Tessa said with more confidence now than when she’d spoken to Mardukas. She was covered in sweat, her braid in disarray, her shoulders heaving. “I just... I love...” she gasped the last word out with all the feeling she had, struggling to be heard over the roar. “So please... don’t hate me.”

Sousuke regarded her with a confounded expression. Then, after making sure no one else was watching, he leaned in toward Tessa and said, “I’m sorry, Colonel.”

“What?”

“I’m aware of how you feel, but I don’t feel the same way. Please understand. It disgusts me.”

Tessa gasped and stared at him, frozen in place.

He then continued, “And, if I may be so bold, I don’t believe that ‘I love booze’ is an appropriate thing to say to anyone. Alcohol destroys brain cells. If you want to continue doing this job for a long time, you should moderate your intake. I did attempt to drink a little bit during the Hong Kong incident, and it was truly disgusting. I never want to drink again.”

“Er...?”

“At least now I know the rumors spread by the chef’s wife were true.”

“E-Excuse me?!” she spluttered.

Sousuke spoke again, more seriously and forcefully than ever before. “Please take this as a warning from a friend. Tessa, please. Stop drinking. Don’t become like Mao and Kurz. Nobody has to know about this.”

“No, that’s not what I was—”

“Sarge! Time for takeoff!” the soldier with the air group shouted.

“Understood! On my way! Goodbye. I left your stuffed animal with Mao. Take care.” Sousuke gave her a hard pat on the shoulder, then ran back to the plane as the roar of its engine grew louder.

Tessa tried to shout back, “No! Listen to me! Oh, this is ridiculous!” But he couldn’t hear her now. The elevator had arrived at its destination. The plane’s hatch closed, and it began to accelerate.

As Tessa sank to her knees and watched, dumbstruck, the turboprop plane carrying Sousuke took off from the runway and disappeared into the northern sky.

 [2258 hours: Met with SRT senior NCO. Exchanged ideas about future strategy, then went to sleep.]

That night, in her room on the base...

“I just can’t take it!” Tessa, dressed in her pajamas, slammed her can of oshiruko drink onto the table, wailing. “He’s just the worst, mishearing my confession like that. After all I did to work up my courage...”

“Hmm. Well, you might have to make a harder sell with a clueless lunkhead like that,” Mao said, tapping away at her laptop with an indifferent air.

“As if it doesn’t concern you at all...” Tessa muttered irritably.

“Hmm. Yeah, guess it doesn’t.”

“You know it was you making me drink that alcohol that got me into this!”

“Hmm,” Mao replied carelessly, “sorry about that.”

“By the way, what are you up to?”

“Hmm. Just, I thought maybe if the tango won’t work, maybe the lambada will.”

“...I’m going to bed.” Tessa stood up, her eyes wet with tears. As she shuffled her way to the bedroom, she heard Mao call to her from behind.

“Tessa.”

“What is it?”

“How was your day?”

Tessa thought for a moment. The faces of all the subordinates she’d interacted with that day rose up in her mind. “Utterly awful.”

“Yeah?”

“But at the same time... I wish they could all be days like this one.”

“Yeah, I feel the same.” Mao finally took her eyes off her computer and smiled back at Tessa.

“Well, good night.”

“Night, Tessa.” As her friend wished her goodnight, Tessa sank into her bed while hugging her stuffed puppy, and fell into a deep sleep.

The nightmares would probably come again. But she wasn’t alone.