"Oh yeah, I think I saw that. Wasn't it a farce—like that Charlie Sheen movie Hot Shots?"
"You bitch."
Quickly, like a cat, Mao reached out and grabbed Kurz's cheek. He yelped.
"What did you call me?" she demanded.
"Jus' the smar'es, preddies', mos' debendable—"
"That's what I thought," she said, letting go of his face.
Quietly nibbling, Sousuke watched the whole exchange.
Mao noticed when he swallowed.
"Those things any good?"
Smiling, he nodded. "Just the right sweetness."
"Cool. Sousuke, the lieutenant commander wants to see you."
"Understood."
"You too, playboy."
"Aw, man! I thought you said we were off duty!"
"Consider this a countermand," said Mao, laughing. "I, however, am off duty. If you need me, I'll be in the bath." She cackled as she left.
"If that bitch knew what was good for her," commented Kurz, "she'd be clawing her name into my back."
As she walked away, Kurz flipped her backside the bird.
"What kind of curse is that?" wondered Sousuke.
Knock knock!
"Come in!"
Sousuke and Kurz filed into the small room filled with documents, bookshelves, and a large man clad in an olive-green combat uniform—Lieutenant Commander Kalinin. Although Kalinin had long gray hair, his beard and mustache were cropped short.
"Reporting as ordered, sir," stated Sousuke, crisply saluting.
"Yeah, here we are." Kurz submitted a halfhearted salute.
Indifferent to Kurz's attitude, Lieutenant Commander Kalinin looked up from the documents he was reading.
"There's a mission." Lieutenant Commander Kalinin didn't beat around the bush. He tossed a file folder toward Sousuke and Kurz. "Take a look at this."
"Yes, sir," replied Sousuke.
"You got it," quipped Kurz.
The documents in the file appeared to be a personal history, including a black-and-white photo of a smiling Asian girl. Roughly age twelve in the photo, the girl was nestled up against a woman, ostensibly her mother. With fair skin and clear-cut features, she was a lovely child.
Kurz whistled. "I'll bet she grows up to be hot."
"Actually, the photo is four years old," announced the lieutenant commander. "She's sixteen, now."
"So, where's the picture of her now?"
"We don't have one."
As he already was accustomed to Kurz's manner, Sousuke paid him no attention, focusing instead on reading the girl's biographical information.
According to the brief, her name was Kaname Chidori, and she lived in Tokyo, Japan. Kaname was a student in one of Tokyo's many high schools. Her father was a U.N. High Commissioner. She had one sibling: an eleven-year-old sister who lived with her father in New York City. Her mother had died three years earlier.
There was additional information: height, blood type, medical history, and more—the report spared no detail.
One sentence popped out at Sousuke: Probability of being a W******d 88% (according to Miller Statistics Act).
Sousuke knew that the word that had been censored haphazardly with black marker was the real reason Kurz and he were being assigned the mission.
"So, what happened to her?" asked Kurz.
"Nothing," responded Kalinin. "Yet."
"Huh?" Kurz grunted his confusion.
Turning slightly in his creaky chair, the lieutenant commander looked at a map of the world that was mounted on the wall. It was up to date with the latest national borders—the complexly divided Soviet bloc, the split of the northern and southern Chinese territories, and the scribble of lines that made up the Middle East.
"All you two need to know is that there are a number of enemy agencies, including the KGB, that might want to kidnap Kaname Chidori."
"Why?" inquired Kurz.
"That," Kalinin said stoutly, "is something you gentlemen do not need to know."
"Oh, right."
It all seemed pretty vague to Kurz. This girl, Kaname Chidori, was only a potential target.
"What, exactly, is our mission?" pressed Sousuke.
"You'll guard the girl, naturally. I'm giving this one to you guys because you're both fluent in Japanese."
"I guess that makes sense."
Kurz's father was a newspaper correspondent and, consequently, Kurz had lived in the Edogawa section of Tokyo until he was fourteen. Thus, he spoke the language like a pro.
"I've briefed Master Sergeant Mao already. The three of you will handle this."
That seemed like an awful lot of work to Kurz. "Whoa, just the three of us?"
"I barely can spare that many. It's decided already."
"Rough," assessed Kurz.
"That's why you're here."
Sousuke, Kurz, and Mao were more than just AS pilots, they were highly trained soldiers capable of airborne landings, reconnaissance, combat, and more. They were members of a team picked from numerous candidates. And to them, an AS was just one of the many tools of their trade.
"Upon Mao's insistence, I've granted you Class B equipment."
The two soldiers' jaws dropped open.
"We're taking an Arm Slave?" asked Sousuke.
"Yes."
"But it's in the heart of a major city!" protested Kurz.
"You'll just have to operate in ECS invisible mode," reasoned Kalinin.
Though the technology was pioneered for Arm Slaves, many modern weapons used some form of ECS—or Electromagnetic Camouflage System. Using hologram technology, the cutting-edge stealth equipment could hide very large objects from radar and infrared rays. Mithril's ECS systems were so advanced that they could nullify visible light wavelengths.
In other words, it made them invisible.
It took a lot of energy, so invisibility was not practical (or even possible) during combat, but it was no problem when the vehicle was sitting still or hiding.
"You'll take one M9 with you. Armament will be minimal, so carry two external condenser packs."
"Check," affirmed Kurz.
"It's imperative that this mission is kept top secret."
"Say what?" Kurz frowned.
"If the Japanese government finds out," Kalinin continued, "it'll get messy. So you must protect Kaname without her or anyone else knowing. But you still must be ready when trouble comes."
"That sounds very…" Kurz struggled for words.
"Difficult," concluded Sousuke. Guarding someone without her knowledge or permission was beyond absurd.
"Depending on how you operate, it shouldn't be that difficult. This girl—Kaname Chidori—spends most of her time at a co-ed public high school. Our youngest soldier is the same age as she is, and he's even Japanese."
"Oh, ho ho!" Kurz lit up and turned to Sousuke, who blinked a few times under the scrutiny.
"You don't mean—"
"We’re forging the student transfer papers right now."
And Kalinin signed the directive.
"Say cheese,' Sousuke."
Sousuke scowled at the camera and at Kurz, its operator.
"Come on, man," goaded Kurz. "Don't you want a nice picture on your student ID?"
Calling on little-used muscles, Sousuke formed an expression that looked more like a facial neuralgia than a smile.
"Close enough." Kurz snapped the picture.
Like an elastic band that is stretched and released, Sousuke's face instantly returned to its most comfortable, sullen expression.
Kurz sighed.