There was a maintenance door at the end of the row of stalls, probably for maintaining the pipes that ran up and down the ship. The mechanical workings that would have been exposed on a submarine were hidden behind wooden walls on this cruise ship. Sailor opened the door, stepped into the wall, and hid behind the thick pipes within. It was a close call; the men came barging in an instant later. They were checking the stalls one by one, their movements swift and sharp.
Sailor held his breath.
After making sure the stalls were empty, they finally opened the maintenance door to Sailor’s hiding place. A flashlight’s beam searched here and there around him. His breathing and heartbeat sounded deafening to his ears. But while he stood there, trying to hold his silence behind the complex network of pipes, the terrorist spoke up, reporting to someone on the radio: “Kaun-23. E10 secured. No one here. Zero casualties. Moving on to E12.”
The maintenance door slammed shut, and the footsteps departed just as quickly as they’d come. There was no idle chatter; as far as Sailor could tell, these men were very well trained.
Silence returned. After savoring a moment’s relief, Sailor came back out into the bathroom. Shoulders heaving, he put his hands on the sink and stared into the mirror. “Think!” he chided his reflection. “Think, goddamn you!”
The only reason he hadn’t fallen to pieces or started weeping from fear was because he’d been through tight scrapes before, even if they had been in a totally different setting. He’d spent half of his life in a submarine, and he’d had a few near-death experiences. And even if most of it had come about accidentally, he had combat experience, too. It wasn’t commonly known, but very few serving submarine captains had actually fired torpedoes at an enemy; maybe only ten in the whole world. Captain Sailor of the Pasadena was one of those few.
That’s right, he reminded himself. I’m a veteran. I’m an old sea dog, ready to do what needs to be done. The radio call the terrorist had put in earlier... Kaun-23, he’d called himself. He didn’t know exactly what the call sign meant, but it was worth assuming they were dealing with a large enemy force. However...!!
“Like hell I’m dying here!” he whispered to the bathroom mirror. Now, think. Remember your Hollywood movies. People who do hijackings and things on Christmas always end up stopped by some hero who happens to be there.
That’s right. A hero. Couldn’t the hero, in this case, be storied submarine captain Killy B. Sailor, coming here on a break to deal with his marital problems?! “Yeah, that’s right,” Commander Sailor told himself. “That’s what it’s gotta be!!” He could feel himself regaining his spirit.
That’s just what this is, he realized. Tonight is my night! A great adventure, full of thrilling fights to get the blood flowing! A romance with a beautiful leading lady! A showdown with a despicable enemy! My problems with my wife, Eliza, will seem trivial! This was getting better all the time, really. The big boss will probably be cold, emotionless, and handsome, probably someone out of the Navy, just like me. The girl will be a passenger on the ship, an exotic dark-haired 20-something. And XO Takenaka, who came on board with me... well, he’s probably the guy who gets shot by the terrorists in the action.
“Takenaka. Poor guy...” Commander Sailor let out a pained sigh. After convincing himself that his subordinate was as good as dead, Sailor moved into action. “But don’t worry, Takenaka. I will avenge you! I’ll let my rage over your death fuel me into a table-turning counterattack about sixty minutes in!”
First, he had to find a weapon. He’d start with a mop, clear out some weak enemies, then get a pistol, he decided. Next on the docket would be a machine gun. Sailor could almost see the medal of honor he’d get for all this. Get ready to die, you damned terrorists!2021 HoursIn front of the vault, Pacific Chrysalis
“So? What’s so special about the vault?” Kaname asked Sousuke and the others.
They were in the bowels of the ship now, a corridor tucked away in a section near the machinery room. The vault was at the end of a hallway, and Kaname and the others had stopped in front of the door, which was made of a thick special alloy. Cruise ships similar to this one were frequently home to large storage areas like this, designed to safely hold precious jewelry, valuables, and works of art that the passengers had brought on board. In a ship of this size, it was almost the size of a bank vault.
“Don’t tell me you came here to rob the place...” she muttered.
“That’s exactly what we did,” Mao said casually, then beckoned behind her. “All right, Captain. Step right up.” Sousuke prodded him in the back, and Captain Harris moved in front of the safe door. His expression was tortured. “Open it for us?”
“No,” Captain Harris protested. “There’s nothing for you terrorists here in our vault. You think you can get away with this? Touch one hair on my precious passengers’ heads and you’ll pay!”
“Uh-huh,” Mao said with a smirk, and brandished her gun. “Cut the act already.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Last October, this ship underwent a refitting at the Shin-Kurusu shipyards,” Mao said. “There’s nothing about it in the documentation, but it seems like they messed around with some things around the vault, here: adding more to the area by cutting into the space reserved for fuel tanks, making the bulkheads more durable... way beyond what a normal passenger ship could possibly need.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Captain Harris denied.
“And even though it hurt efficiency, you swapped out the workers daily,” Mao went on. “Was it so they wouldn’t realize what they were doing?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. The upgrades we ran last year were just about modernizing our fire prevention systems,”
