'Yeah, they've got all three of them together, in our radio room, Bleveans said. 'Pretending everything's normal, you know; like they're all on their own ships.
'How is Mr Janney? Hisako whispered.
Bleveans shrugged. 'I think he's concussed. I'd get him to hospital, normally.
'Men tell you, Endo said, 'why this?
'No, Bleveans frowned. 'But… they seemed, ah… annoyed… unsettled over something they heard on the news. He rubbed the back of his neck again. 'We were in my cabin with the door open… and we could hear they had CNN… maybe Channel 8, on in the bridge; that's their command centre, far as I can make out. Logical, I guess. Anyway; sounded like the news, and about halfway through… it was like being in a bar and the local team gets shut out, you know? Endo looked blank; Philippe frowned. Hisako translated for Endo while Bleveans rephrased for Philippe. 'Like they got some bad news, Bleveans went on. 'And something else… He stretched back, flexing his shoulders but at the same time getting to glance back at the guard behind the bar. 'They're talking to somebody else. They're using their own radios to talk to each other… there's some of them on the Nakodo, I guess, but… you reckon they all came off Le Cercle? Bleveans looked at Philippe, who nodded.
'I count them when they were together; and also two of my crew see them in the boat, and there were six. All the six come over with us to the Nadia.
'So that's two groups… and their high command, or next military level; on shore, I guess. They seem to talk different to them.
'In what way different? Philippe said.
'I don't know; slower, I guess.
'Perhaps the venceristas have suffered a defeat, Hisako said, not looking at them.
'What's that, ma'am'? Bleveans said.
'Oh. When they sounded upset hearing the news. Maybe the venceristas lost a battle, or somebody high up was captured or killed.
'Could be, Bleveans agreed.
'What of… congressmen'? Endo said, struggling with the word a little.
'How's tha- Bleveans had sat forward to hear Endo better, then stopped, and just nodded. 'Hmm.
'Yes, Hisako said, looking at Philippe. 'They were to fly over tomorrow. She looked at her watch, to see if it was past midnight, but of course they'd taken her watch. At least that had not been a dream. 'Today, if it's past midnight. She looked round the others. 'Is it?
'Yes, Philippe nodded. 'Near four and a half in the morning; I think they change guards on four-hour watches, and the last change was not long ago.
'So it's today, Bleveans said, tapping the carpet with one finger. 'The plane's meant to fly over today. He looked at Philippe and Endo. 'What d'you think, guys; SAMs?
'Pardon?
'Wakarimasen.
Hisako translated Surface to Air Missiles for Endo; Bleveans used the words rather than their acronym for Philippe. Both nodded and looked worried.
'I no see any… samus, Endo told Bleveans.
'No, Philippe agreed. 'Their weapons I see are… guns; grenades.
'Same here, Bleveans said. He glanced at Hisako. 'Just a thought. But if that is what they're up to I guess they would keep the heavy weaponry away, out of our sight.
'On the Nakodo? Hisako ventured.
'Mm-hmm, Bleveans yawned, nodding. 'Yeah, the Nakodo rather than the Le Cercle. Safer loosing off rockets from that than a tanker full of fuel.
'You think they shoot plane? Endo said quietly.
'Maybe, Bleveans said.
'Is very dangerous, I think, Philippe said, frowning.
'Might just start World War Three, Mr Ligny, Bleveans said, nodding in agreement. 'Yeah, I'd call that dangerous. If that's what they intend doing. He rubbed his eyes, sniffed. 'Anybody thought of any escape plans yet?
'No, Philippe said.
'Hmm. I guess they got this bit thought out fairly well. He stretched again, looking back for a moment. 'Leaving us free is a kindness; gives us something to lose. Keeping those stools in front of the bar is gonna make rushing the guy next to impossible… unless we want to take serious casualties. We could try a diversion, but… I have a feeling that's always looked a lot more easy in the movies than it really is.
'Doesn't everything? Hisako blurted, then put her hand to her mouth.
'I guess so, ma'am. He started to get up. 'They letting us use the heads?
'Yes, Hisako said, when the two men looked blank. Philippe understood. He shook his head. 'I check in there Captain; I do not think is way out there.
Bleveans smiled as he got to his feet. 'I guessed that much, Philippe; I just want to take a leak before I crash, you know? Excuse me. He nodded to them and walked off, swinging his arms slowly, holding each shoulder alternately. He gave a sort of half-salute to the vencerista behind the bar, who waved the Coke bottle in return.
Todai is not to be taken lightly; it is The Place, the Harvard, the Ox bridge of Japan; virtual guarantor of a job in the diplomatic service, the government or the fast track of a zaibatsu. In a country more obsessed with education than any other in history, Tokyo University is the very summit. Still, she sailed through it. She had grown; shot up in height at the last moment, becoming briefly gangly, her aboriginal, Ainu heritage catching up with her again. Still smaller than most gaijin, she became used to looking down on the average Japanese man. She swam, she hiked, she went gliding a few times and sailing occasionally. She kept up her Japanese sports too; the way of gentleness; the open hand; archery; kendo. These activities were financed with the money she got from the string quartet she helped form; they were popular, always raising their fees to keep demand down. She knew she didn't practise enough, and she scraped through numerous exams, because no matter how smart and how energetic you were there was still only so much time in each day. She still thought of it as sailing through, then and afterwards, and never lost a night's or even an hour's sleep over an exam, while her friends and the other people around her got far better grades and worried themselves sick.
She knew she didn't have to worry; she would float through everything, she'd be found regardless, and at her finale mountains would tremble. So she thought of it sometimes, in her wildest moments, when she'd had too much beer with her friends. She would survive; she would always survive. She was smart and strong after all, and with gaijin words or a gaijin music box, she'd get by.
For a while she had just three problems. Two were solved in one night. After a great deal of thought, having decided she didn't need love the way everybody else said they did, or thought they did, at least not the sort that you couldn't get from a mother or a few close friends, or feel towards a piece of music, or your homeland, she decided to be seduced, and to let a gaijin do the seducing.
He was called Bertil and he was from Malmo in Sweden; two years older than her, spending a year at a language college in Tokyo. He was blond which she loved and oddly funny, once you got past a layer of half-hearted Scandinavian gloom. She was still plucking her eyebrows and shaving her legs and arms, thinking them hairy and horrible, but when they got to the Love Hotel in Senzoku, and he undressed her — she'd told him she was a virgin, she hoped he wouldn't be put off by the way she trembled — he stroked her pubic hair (so that suddenly she thought, Oh no! The one place I didn't shave! — and it's a forest down there!) and said… well, she was too flustered to remember the exact words, but they were delighted, admiring words… and the one word she didn't forget, the one that a quarter of a century later she still could not hear without shivering; the word which had become almost synonymous with that feeling of a soft, sensual stroking, was the English word — how pleased he had sounded to think of it — luxuriant…