“Wow! He’s really good!”
“Eee! That masked guy is so hot!”
“He sounds a little like a foreigner I met once...” Kyoko muttered, but nobody was listening to her.
“Thank you! Come on, everybody!”
Yang and Wu just sighed as they walked down the dark corridor, as if they really could hear Kurz carrying on.
“He brought a guitar, right?”
“Yeah, he knew he was gonna do it. That guy’s nuts.”
“And easy to flatter...”
“And always ready to show off...”
Just then, a noise came from a crew cabin nearby. It sounded like a pen falling to the floor, followed by a rustling of clothes.
“Uruz-9 to Uruz-1. Any friendlies in D30?” Yang whispered into the radio after a pause. He had already turned his submachine gun towards the cabin. It was loaded with non-lethal rubber bullets, but they would still hurt when they hit—a few rounds fired into someone’s face would feel like a pounding from a pro boxer. Wu pulled Harris in closer, while keeping an eye out in the other direction.
The number of hostages their teams had reported in was a match for crew and passenger rosters. There shouldn’t be anyone else wandering around in the ship besides them.
Lieutenant Clouseau responded immediately. “Uruz-9. Negative. Report your status.”
“We just heard a sound in one of the cabins,” Yang responded. “Investigating now.”
“No, leave that to someone else. Prioritize transporting the captain,” Clouseau ordered.
Yang clicked his tongue. “C’mon, they’ll get away by then... I’ll check it myself. If you don’t hear from me in one minute, surround the block. Out.”
“Wait—”
Yang turned off the radio, then signaled for Wu to stand by, and approached the cabin in question.
There was more faint rustling.
Yang took a deep breath, then opened the door, and stepped swiftly into the cabin. The only sign of life there was a white cat on the bed. Had someone brought it on board?
“It’s a cat,” Yang said after a long pause.
“A cat? Heaven’s sake...”
Yang slumped over, then turned back in the door to face Wu and the captain. Just then, he saw a large, muscle-bound man, holding a bucket over his head, appear behind Wu and Harris. “Wu, your six—”
His warning came too late; the bucket crashed down on Wu’s head, sending him stumbling and gurgling beneath the dirty water. “What?!”
“Wu?!” Though Wu and Harris were in his firing line, Yang didn’t hesitate to unload. They were just rubber bullets, anyway—they wouldn’t kill anybody.
“Ow, ow, ow!” screamed Wu, who was now wearing the bucket, while Harris hit the floor.
The attacker used Wu as a shield, then grabbed a wire hanging from the wall. “Take this, you damned terrorist!!” the man screamed, and pulled the wire with all his might. There was a metal clinking sound.
Yang was about to shout... and then another bucket fell down from the ceiling and landed straight on the top of his head. A limp crack filled the hallway.
Yang’s last thought before losing consciousness was, “I think I’ve seen this setup before...”
After giving a full beating to the be-bucketed terrorist—Wu, it seemed his name was—with his mop, Sailor cried out, “W-Well?! How do you like that?!” He then kicked the terrorist in the butt. The action was met with faint writhing and a moan.
“Hey, you! Are you the captain?” Sailor helped up the crew member, whose hands were cuffed behind his back.
“Ugh...”
“Don’t worry. I’m a friend. Killy B. Sailor, Commander, United States Navy. I’m the famous captain of the USS Pasadena, a tough-as-nails veteran who just happened to be on board. Once I get this all under control, I want you to introduce me to the media as, ‘the true patriot and iron man, Captain Sailor.’”
“R-Right...” Captain Harris agreed shakily.
Commander Sailor picked up the enemy’s machine gun and checked the remaining ammunition. Yeah, this’ll do fine, he told himself. The bullets aren’t the same color as the ones I used in standard training, but a real sea dog doesn’t sweat the details. “First, we need to make tracks. They’ll send reinforcements soon enough. You can walk, right? Actually, you’d better run.”
“W-Wait, sir,” Captain Harris managed to interject. “Could you take off my handcuffs, first?”
“Oh, for the love of... Fine, hold out your hands.” Commander Sailor pawed around the terrorist’s body, found a bunch of keys, and unlocked the captain’s cuffs. “Better? Okay, let’s go.”
“No, I need to find a radio and contact the outside,” Captain Harris announced bravely. “You should go on without me.”
“What are you talking about? You’re not safe alone,” Commander Sailor scoffed. “If you’re going for a radio, I’m coming with you.”
“I’m grateful for the sentiment, but no.” For some reason, the captain was adamant about going it alone. “This ship is like my second home; I know all the best hiding places. And we should avoid the chance of both of us getting caught at once.”
“Hmm...”
“We can meet up later,” Captain Harris suggested. “Do you know the shopping center? It has plenty of places to hole up and hide.”
“Understood,” Commander Sailor agreed gruffly. “Take care.”
“See you later,” the captain said. Then he turned around and started running. Sailor had no way of seeing the slight smile on his face.
Tessa returned to the vault from the corridor near the elevator hall. Mao, who was working busily on the lock, said to her immediately, “Hey, Tessa, quit hovering. I’ll call you once I’m in, so go somewhere and sit tight. Sheesh, you’re clumsy enough as it is...” She was so focused on the display, she didn’t even spare Tessa a glance. None of the other subordinates present paid her any mind, either. They were all too focused on their own tasks:
“I’m sorry, Colonel. Please get out of the way.”
“Colonel, ma’am. You’re in the way, standing there.”
“Sorry, Colonel, you’re distracting me.”
That’s what they all said. It annoyed her at first, but
