The World We Built - Part 3

Holland stood motionless on the decrepit wooden pier, the cigarette between his fingers burned dangerously close to the filter. Yet, he was too lost in thought to notice the heat licking at his fingertips.

Behind him, Esther shifted nervously, her anxious movements betraying her unease, while Rain stood as impassive as ever. The three of them occupied a precarious expanse of rotting planks. With no words exchanged between them, the only sounds were the groaning of the wood beneath their feet and the gentle lapping of waves below.

As Holland flicked the remnants of his cigarette into the water and reached for another, he spotted three silhouettes approaching.

Under the dim glow of the firefly lanterns, the figures resolved into three men. Leading them was Hector, flanked by two others—tall and broad-shouldered. One appeared to be in his late twenties, his close-cropped brown hair paired with wire-rimmed glasses. The other was older, likely in his fifties, his weathered face lined with age and scars. A captain's hat sat atop his head, obscuring the graying strands of his hair, while both wore faded yellow camouflage uniforms.

"I did what you asked," Hector murmured to Holland before stepping back to join Esther and Rain.

"It's an honor to see you again, Holland—or should I say, Captain Holland now?" The older man extended a firm hand. Holland grasped it in return, meeting the strength with his own.

"It's good to see you again, Captain Sayid—or should I say, Commander Sayid?" Holland responded with a polite smile.

Sayid let out a low growl, a sound almost like a chuckle. "The Sunless Seas are where I belong, Captain. Not behind a desk piled high with papers."

"And yet, a man of your stature in the Egyptian military finds himself here?" Holland probed.

"Is that why you wanted to meet me?" Sayid's tone remained guarded, as unreadable as ever.

Holland decided to cut straight to the point. "I've heard whispers." He glanced at the bustling marketplace, its lights twinkling even in the dead of night. "They say you're having issues with the eastern stations."

"And?" Sayid's curt response carried an edge.

"I want to know what you know," Holland said plainly. "An invasion? Who would dare challenge the Nile, the lifeline of the Sunless World? If the river shuts down, the economy halts. A monster in the waters, as the rumors claim? That seems unlikely—no beast could wipe out entire stations without leaving survivors to raise the alarm."

He lit another cigarette, the glow briefly illuminating his face. "I suspect you don't know the source of the problem either. But if you share what you do know, I might be able to help. You know I'm the only captain to have circumnavigated the Sunless World. You know my old submarine. I might know what it is."

Sayid stood silent as stone, then turned to the man with glasses beside him. In clipped tones, he began speaking in the Egyptian military's hieroglyphic code.

When the man with glasses shook his head, Sayid sighed and turned back to Holland. "I didn't bring my own. Do you have another cigarette?"

Holland handed him a cigarette and the lighter.

Exhaling a stream of smoke, Sayid cleared his throat and began to speak.

"It started with a small port town at the mouth of the Nile in New Morocco. Our intel division reported that daily updates from the station there had stopped coming in. At first, we thought the officer there was being negligent—it happens sometimes in remote outposts with only one person in charge. They might have forgotten to report before bed, gotten drunk, or fallen ill. But when it happened again with Rabat, the capital city, the backup station in Casablanca couldn't contact the main government station either. They waited three days before declaring the capital lost. The president, along with most government officials, were confirmed dead. That's when they reached out to the Confederation, explaining the entire situation and asking for help." Sayid took another drag from the cigarette. "That's when I first learned about it, but by the time it reached the council for discussion, we had already lost contact with Nigeria. Predictably, mobilizing the allied forces took even longer. By the time we lost Giza, the Egyptian government decided to act and sent me in."

"I assume you declared a state of emergency?" Holland asked.

"No," Sayid replied with a growl. "The capitals of those nations are all on the Nile. No one knows what's happening, and no one dares to send anyone to investigate. No one volunteers for these things." He let out a bitter chuckle. "And we'll likely do nothing until it happens to New Cairo. By then, there won't be anyone left to report it."

The two men fell silent, wisps of smoke curling upward into the night air.

"What do you think, Captain? Any ideas?" Sayid's eyes bore into him with expectation.

Holland fell into deep thought before finally speaking. "The most plausible explanation is a plague."

"But…"

"But we would've seen symptoms among the refugees by now if it were a disease capable of wiping out entire cities so quickly." Holland finished, cutting off any hope that the answer was so straightforward.

Silence reclaimed the pier once more. Holland stood, exhaling smoke into the damp air, surrounded by an infinite expanse of black water. The dim circle of light from a firefly lantern perched atop a wooden post illuminated his immediate surroundings, but beyond that radius, the darkness was impenetrable. Waves lapped against the wooden planks beneath his boots, and for a fleeting moment, he imagined he saw something twisting and writhing within the frothy crests. A sudden gust of wind chilled him to the bone, a sensation he oddly savored.

Fear.

"Before we discuss this 'something,' I have another question," Holland said abruptly, shattering the quiet. "The dam—someone's lowered the water level, haven't they?"

Sayid flicked the butt of his cigarette into the water. "I suspect it's one of those separatist groups stirring up chaos. Yes, the situation has left us stranded here."

"What's your plan?" Holland pressed.

"They've drained the river before the dam down to less than a hundred meters—some areas might barely be twenty meters deep. We can't risk sending a submarine through and running it aground. I think a ground assault is our only option. Small boats might get us close, but I expect the dam to be heavily fortified. It's a perfect defensive position, and our men would be easy targets." Sayid shook his head. "No, we'll need to flank them. There are cliffs nearby that could lead us to the top of the dam. If we deploy agile strike teams with snipers, we might clear the area and regain control."

"I know that dam," Holland interjected. "The cliffs are too steep for a safe ascent. Wouldn't it be simpler to use rocket artillery and blow the dam open? The result's the same, and you wouldn't be risking lives."

"My orders are to reclaim the dam, Captain Holland. That dam is still Egyptian property, and without it, the river will dry up come summer." Sayid's tone was as cold and unyielding as the steel of the dam itself.

"The people holding it are your countrymen, Captain. Do you even know who your enemy is?" Holland pressed further.

"That's irrelevant. I don't have time to play protector to a handful of misguided civilians."

"Then let me handle the dam my way," Holland offered, stepping forward. "In exchange, I'll help you deal with the 'something' at Giza."

"So you know what it is, then?" Sayid asked, his voice low and weighted with curiosity.

"We can't be certain, but we have some clues to narrow it down. First, all the towns that have gone silent are located along the Nile. Whatever it is, it's tied to the river. I believe it's using the Nile as its path of travel."

Sayid's face paled visibly as he absorbed this information.

"Whatever it is, it's currently stopped at Giza. I'm willing to help you address that issue." Holland's voice was firm as he met the other man's light brown eyes.

Sayid remained silent for a moment, his expression inscrutable. "You're offering to help us deal with the problem at the dam—and with this... 'thing'? What's your price, Holland?"

Holland glanced across the dock. The soft glow of the firefly lanterns illuminated four submarines docked in a neat row. "I noticed you've brought four submarines with you. I'd like to request one of them—to evacuate the people here at the station back to the capital."

Sayid didn't respond immediately. Instead, he extended his hand.

"Thank you," Holland said, gripping the offered hand firmly with a strength that matched Sayid's.

"No, Captain Holland. It's I who should be thanking you." Sayid smiled—a rare and fleeting expression of gratitude.

…

"What madness are you planning to pull this time?" Hector glared at him with a face that screamed, This is all your fault.

Matthew's expression was grim. "Do you even truly know what this 'something' really is?"

"I told you—I'm just guessing." Holland sighed heavily.

"But if it's moving along the river, doesn't that make it a creature from the Sunless Seas?" Esther blurted out. Holland hadn't even noticed when she'd slipped into the control room.

"What kind of sea creature could wipe out an entire city?" Hector turned to glare at the girl instead.

"That's a problem for later. Right now, what's your plan for blowing up the dam? We don't even have a rocket launcher." Matthew looked at him with growing unease, his mustache twitching nervously.

"Two-person team. I'll go with Rain. We'll scale the cliff beside the dam to reach the top. From there, I'll provide cover with my sniper rifle while Rain sets the plastic explosives. Once the dam's blown, we'll retreat the way we came and climb back down." Holland laid out his meticulously crafted plan with a confidence that left no room for doubt. "Any questions?"

It was the most unlikely person who spoke up to challenge him, breaking their usual silence.

"Yes." Rain's voice was calm. Holland had forgotten he was even there, leaning casually against the control panel in the corner of the room. "I'll go alone."

The room fell into a stunned silence. Holland turned sharply to face Rain, caught off guard. Rain had never challenged his plans before.

"May I ask why?"

Rain met his gaze directly. "I'm the only one who can infiltrate the dam."

"Then what's the problem with me providing cover from a distance?"

Rain's stare didn't waver. "The odds of success are higher if you're not involved." His voice was as steady as ever.

No backup in an emergency, yet he dared to claim better odds without it. Holland was dumbfounded. The kid just lied to me. Rain had never lied before, not once.

Holland turned to look at Esther. Was it because of her?

"Are you afraid I'll have to kill the kids at the dam?" he asked.

"But they're just children!" Esther exclaimed, her voice rising.

"If killing them means you make it back alive, I wouldn't hesitate." Holland's tone was firm. "Can you really do this alone?"

"Of course." Rain nodded.

Holland let out a long sigh. If this kid had learned to lie, it would be truly terrifying. He couldn't tell whether that impassive face meant he was lying or telling the truth. "I don't just mean you succeeding in blowing up the dam. I mean making it back alive as well."

Rain nodded again, his face betraying no emotion about the suicide mission he had proposed and volunteered for.

"Then it's settled. But since there'll be no cover for your entry or exit, we'll need to use mortar fire to create a diversion during your infiltration. We'll also need to change the pickup point to the crest of the dam." Holland clapped his hands together as he spoke, signaling the finality of the decision.

"You're going to park the sub under the dam?!" Hector exclaimed.

"Isn't that a bit too shallow, Holland? The operational depth of a submarine is three hundred meters." Matthew stroked his beard thoughtfully as he spoke.

"Not to mention the return fire!" Hector added with urgency.

"I'll pilot the sub myself at that point," Holland replied. "I know the underwater routes there. I should be able to navigate and extract Rain safely."

No one said another word, though Hector's eyes bombarded him with unspoken questions. "So it's settled, then."

When everyone else had left the control room to rest, Holland noticed Hector lingering by the door.

"What is it, Commander?" Holland asked, sinking wearily into the captain's chair.

"Why not let me send a sniper instead?"

Holland wasn't in the mood to explain. "Trust my decision. That's all I can say."

"I trusted you when you brought the kid aboard, but now you're sending him on a suicide mission?" Hector's tone was sharp, his expression unwavering.

"If Rain says he can do it, then he can."

"I don't know where you get that confidence, but you're not just too soft to kill a kid, are you?" Hector's piercing gaze searched him for the truth.

Holland stared back unflinchingly. "I'm ready to kill anyone—even you—if it means keeping that kid alive."

"Is he your son?"

Holland laughed. "No, he's just a kid I found on my last submarine."

Hector stared at him for a moment longer. "I thought as much. I wouldn't send my own kid to die."

…

When Hector had left, Holland remained seated, listening to the sound of water outside the submarine's hull. It was a peculiar sound, one born from the immense pressure against the submarine's steel frame. A faint, elongated creak, almost like the breath of some immense, unseen creature. He liked listening to it when he was alone.

About ten minutes later, the faint metallic groan was interrupted by the sound of a steel door opening and closing.

"Did she ask you to do it?" Holland asked without opening his eyes or swiveling his chair. His ears remained attuned to the low moan of the submarine.

"We met their leader at the station. They're just abandoned kids trying to protect themselves. I think it's something I want to do," Rain replied.

"Since when did you care about things like this? Old folks, kids, women—we've killed them all, you and I. Why does it bother you now?" Holland wanted to know, though he suspected he already understood the reason for Rain's change.

Still, he wanted to hear it from Rain himself, even if the answer was as obvious as the ocean pressing in on their fragile steel shell.

"You're right. I don't care how old the enemy in front of me is, as long as it gets the mission done. I just thought I could do what she wanted, so I volunteered." Rain confessed without hesitation.

Holland turned his chair to face Rain. Sometimes, he forgot the boy standing before him was still just a child. "Then that's that," he said with a faint smile.

"That's it?" Rain looked genuinely surprised, a rare occurrence.

"I'm not the kind of adult who tells you what you can or can't do. If that's your decision, I trust you." Holland stretched his legs out, resting them on Matthew's chair. "It's an adult's duty to support and guide the reasonable decisions of the young, isn't it?"

Rain continued to eye him warily.

Holland sighed. "Listen, I'm allowing this because I believe you can infiltrate successfully. Their forces are just kids like you, after all. But have you planned for what happens if the mission goes off course? When you're forced to fight?"

Rain nodded. "If it comes to that, I'll kill them without hesitation." His usual calm tone oddly reassured Holland.

"She's really changed you." Holland remarked.

Rain's expression remained impassive. "So have you."

…

Holland sat in Matthew's seat, his hands gripping the submarine's control stick firmly.

"Twenty meters to the right, there's a cluster of stalagmites," Matthew reported from his new station, monitoring the sonar readings.

Holland nudged the submarine slightly to the left.

"There's a narrow passage up ahead, about thirty meters wide. It's a tight squeeze, Holland," Matthew added, his voice tinged with unease.

Holland smiled. "Piece of cake."

He glanced at the sonar display on the side monitor and adjusted the control stick ever so slightly.

"Twenty more meters..." Matthew's voice softened as tension filled the air.

When the countdown reached five meters, the collision warning system blared, red lights flashing on both sides of the control panel.

Matthew swallowed hard and glanced nervously at Holland.

Holland steadied his hands, keeping the submarine's trajectory precise. Only when the alarms ceased did he hear a collective sigh of relief from the crew in the control room.

"You lot, have a little more faith in your captain, will you?" Holland muttered.

"Good to see you've still got it, Holland," Matthew said, clapping him on the shoulder.

"How far are we?" Holland asked, adjusting the controls once more to level the submarine.

"Roughly a kilometer from the dam. The tunnel's straight, no obstructions," Hector reported irritably as he peered through the periscope. "Hurry up and get it done already."

Holland rose from the pilot's seat and called out commands. "Prepare to surface! Notify the crew to mount the mortars on the deck the moment we break the surface!"

…

Holland stood amidst the thunderous explosions of mortar fire. In one hand, he held a pair of binoculars; in the other, a radio gripped tightly in his palm.

Through the lens, he watched Rain complete the first phase of the plan. The boy had managed to reach the outpost beside the dam undetected.

Holland waited until Rain had been inside the dam for a while before raising his hand to signal a ceasefire.

He picked up the military-issued radio. "This is Washington. Report your status."

"I'm heading to the rendezvous point," came Rain's slightly breathless voice, crackling with the faint static of the radio.

Holland exhaled, a faint sense of relief settling in. Perhaps this wouldn't be as difficult as he'd imagined. Rain might actually manage to plant the explosives and escape unnoticed.

"Um..." a hesitant voice beside him broke his thoughts. Turning, he saw Esther, her binoculars pressed firmly to her eyes. "Rain has to come out at the top of the dam, through the right outpost, correct?"

"Yes," Holland replied, puzzled. "Why? What is it?"

When Esther didn't immediately respond, Holland raised his binoculars and trained them on the right outpost of the dam.

"Damn it."

He saw a line of soldiers, perfectly positioned and ready, their rifles aimed directly at the entryway of the right outpost—the very door Rain was supposed to emerge from according to the escape plan.

"Mister Arthur!" Holland called out sharply to Esther's father, who was standing nearby.

"Yes?" Arthur stammered, clearly startled by the sudden command—or perhaps still queasy from the motion of the ship.

"Go down to the control room and tell Matthew to abort the retrieval plan. Cancel the dive. Order him to move the ship forward."

"But… but that'll make us a target for the soldiers on the dam!" Arthur's face was pale, his fear palpable.

Holland's patience snapped. He shot the man a glare so cold it could cut steel. "Follow my orders. Now."

Arthur didn't argue further. He bolted toward the ship's entrance, disappearing into its depths.

"Captain… it looks like they're talking," Esther's voice broke through the tense air, pulling Holland's attention back. He quickly raised his binoculars again.

She was right. Rain stood on the other side of half a dozen rifles pointed directly at him, seemingly engaged in conversation with the opposing commander, who had boldly stepped out in front of his own firing line.

Then, Holland saw it. Rain tossed his satchel high into the air.

The explosion was deafening, even from their distant vantage point. The force of the blast sent debris and dust cascading from the ceiling into the water below.

And onto their own heads.

Holland rushed forward, pulling Esther down and using his own body to shield her from the falling debris.

When the shockwave of the explosion subsided, Holland looked around the ship's deck, now shrouded in a thick haze of dust and smoke. The mortar crew lay sprawled on the ground, clutching their heads, but none appeared seriously injured. Turning back to the girl in front of him, he asked, "Are you okay?"

The girl nodded and murmured a soft word of thanks, still visibly shaken. But as soon as Holland stood up, Esther sprang to her feet, quickly raising her binoculars to her eyes once more.

Almost immediately, she lowered the binoculars and dashed toward Holland, snatching the radio from his hand before he could react.

"Hey!" Holland began to protest, but Esther ignored him completely.

"Rain! Watch your back!" she yelled into the radio, her voice loud and urgent.

Holland immediately lifted his binoculars again and saw Rain standing precariously close to the edge of the dam. A soldier stood behind him, a gun aimed at Rain's head.

Regret surged through him like a tidal wave. His decision to let Rain infiltrate alone suddenly felt like a catastrophic mistake. He wished desperately that the binoculars in his hands were a sniper rifle instead. But even if they were, the angle from here made it impossible to take a clean shot.

Come on, you can do this.

Since the day they met, Holland had never known anyone who could best Rain in close combat. The boy was a master, his unorthodox fighting style both unpredictable and devastating. More often than not, Holland had watched him allow an opponent to strike first, only to counterattack in the blink of an eye. Rain's reflexes and instincts were nothing short of superhuman.

In every battle, Rain was the spearhead, leading the charge, while Holland provided cover from behind. And many times, Holland felt that the boy didn't even need his support. Rain could have handled the enemies entirely on his own.

It happened so often that sometimes Holland forgot Rain was still just a kid.

The vibration of the engine beneath his feet snapped him back to the present, followed by the lurch of the ship as it began to move forward.

At this point, they were improvising. The plan to blow up the dam had succeeded, but the escape plan had fallen apart spectacularly. Holland was pouring all his focus into devising one contingency plan after another in his mind.

Sail to the original extraction point?

The odds of Rain being killed before he could make it off the dam were dangerously high. Worse, they'd likely be sunk before they could even get beneath the structure.

Holland couldn't see a single way to get Rain out safely. Not one.

"Captain."

He felt a tug on his sleeve and turned to find Esther staring at him with fierce determination in her eyes.

"I have a plan," she said.

…

"Listen up, you maggots! In a hundred meters, we'll enter the enemy's searchlight range. When that happens, every single one of you is to wait until the ship completes its turn, facing back the way we came. Only then do we begin the plan." Hector stood amidst the group of soldiers, barking out instructions while Holland kept his binoculars fixed on the dam ahead.

Holland could hardly believe Rain had survived being held at gunpoint. Now, the boy stood on a maintenance platform, facing the enemy leader—the man who had been speaking to him from the top of the dam.

"That's Kyle, isn't it? The one who declared war on adults?" Holland asked, turning to Esther, who was peering through her binoculars beside him.

Holland felt a rare moment of ease. This was a one-on-one duel. He was confident Rain could handle himself until they completed the extraction.

"He says the world is the way it is because adults made it this way," Esther said, her own tension easing.

Holland let out a sharp laugh. Kyle had stepped closer to Rain, preparing to engage. Both wielded ice axes, the air between them charged with anticipation.

"The world just is the way it is. We're the ones who made ourselves this way," Holland muttered.

Kyle swung his ice axe, the sharp arc cutting through the air. Rain met the attack with calm precision, blocking effortlessly.

"Do you think we can change it?" Esther's voice was soft, almost introspective.

Kyle overextended, his stance faltering as Rain's counterstrike threw him off balance. But Rain didn't press the attack; instead, he maintained his distance. Cautious—perhaps too cautious.

"Human beings are always changing—shaped by the events they encounter, the obstacles they overcome, or the people they meet along the way." He glanced at Esther and saw her watching Rain's fight with unwavering focus. She, too, had already changed many people.

Holland felt the ship begin to arc into a turn. He turned toward Esther just as Hector shouted at the top of his lungs, ordering the soldiers to form ranks.

"Even at the edge of their firing range, there's still a risk from rockets. Please, go back to the control room with your father." Holland tried to sound as persuasive as he could manage.

The attempt was predictably futile. Esther fixed him with her determined gaze, unwavering as ever. Still, she turned and walked toward the entrance to the pressure chamber.

"You're using the rope length I calculated, based on the area of a triangle using the Pythagorean theorem, right?"

"I double-checked. It's over six hundred meters, guaranteed."

"Don't forget the cover angles during retrieval."

"You need to put more trust in the crew of Washington."

"You have to save him," she said as they crossed paths.

"You made the plan. Leave making it work to me," Holland replied, flashing her a grin and thumping his chest in mock bravado.

As soon as Esther disappeared into the pressure chamber, the ship's turn came to a halt. Holland raised his binoculars once more.

The scene before him remained the same.

Kyle attacked. Rain blocked. But Rain refused to strike back.

Didn't you say you'd kill without hesitation?

Holland gripped his binoculars so tightly he heard the faint crack of the casing and forced himself to stop. That little liar. He really had learned how to lie.

Lowering the binoculars, Holland strode toward the multi-purpose gun mount, where the harpoon launcher was still installed. He climbed into the gunner's seat and raised the binoculars again.

From his vantage point, he could see soldiers moving atop the dam. Lowering his view, he focused back on Rain, who now stood behind Kyle, the enemy leader on his knees, crawling across the ground. Rain made no move to finish him off. Instead, it seemed like they were talking.

"Ten seconds to firing range!" Hector's voice boomed from the ship's bow.

Hang in there. Just Stall for more time, you little brat. Holland muttered internally, but even as the thought formed, he noticed something chilling. Kyle was crawling toward a handgun on the ground. The same one he'd used to hold Rain at gunpoint earlier.

Holland wasn't sure if Rain had noticed it yet. The boy didn't react, didn't move, didn't make any attempt to stop Kyle.

Just kill him already.

"Five seconds!" Hector called again.

Holland saw Kyle grip the handgun, saw him gather strength to pivot and take aim.

Holland fired the harpoon in that moment.

The deafening explosion of the extra gunpowder-loaded harpoon fired mere inches from his ear left Holland's hearing on that side completely dead. A shrill ringing echoed through his head as the harpoon launched forward.

The winch groaned loudly, the rope unwinding at a blinding speed.

Holland watched as Kyle spun around, handgun in hand.

Two seconds.

Kyle aimed the gun at Rain's head.

One second.

Time seemed to freeze. The two figures stood locked in place, staring at one another. Rain's face remained impassive, calm as always, even with a gun trained on him.

Then, time snapped back into motion. The harpoon struck the ground between them, perfectly splitting the space. The rope stretched taut, connecting the winch to the harpoon, just as Esther had calculated. It was tight enough for Rain to use it as a zipline to return to the ship.

A blinding spotlight illuminated the ship's deck, and Holland realized they'd been spotted. Even so, he paid no attention to Hector's shouts to raise shields. His focus remained entirely on the unfolding scene nearly half a kilometer away.

Kyle seemed startled, but he didn't fire the gun.

Rain, on the other hand, acted as if the harpoon didn't exist at all.

He stood there, staring at Kyle with his unchanging, serene expression. Then, he appeared to say something, his lips moving in the faint light, before turning away. Raising his ice axe, Rain hooked it onto the rope and swung himself onto the zipline.

Gunfire erupted all around them, but most of the bullets ricocheted harmlessly off the bulletproof shields raised by the soldiers, forming an impenetrable barrier.

Holland watched as Kyle stood motionless, his gaze fixed on Rain as the boy slid away on the zipline. Slowly, Kyle lowered the handgun in his grip.

Then Kyle shouted orders to a masked sniper standing nearby. Moments later, the gunfire ceased entirely.

Rain landed safely on the safety padding set up behind the shield wall.

"Move forward, Matthew!" Holland barked into the radio.

The engine roared to life as the Washington began pulling away from the dam, now transformed into a twin waterfall cascading from its shattered structure.

It seemed the shield wall had been unnecessary. No further shots were fired, prompting Hector to grudgingly order the men to lower the shields. "So much for all that practice," he muttered.

"Just be glad we didn't take a stray rocket to the face," Matthew's voice crackled through the radio, eliciting a wave of nervous chuckles from the shield crew.

Holland turned to Rain, who was now standing and methodically removing his gear.

"The harpoon gun as a makeshift zipline—creative" Rain admitted, his voice as calm and detached as ever.

"I didn't come up with the plan," Holland replied from his seat at the harpoon launcher, a cigarette clamped loosely between his lips. Slumping back in exhaustion, he added, "By the way, didn't you say you'd kill without hesitation?"

Rain regarded him with his usual impassive expression. "I said if it was necessary, I wouldn't hesitate. I think I managed to convince him."

"You? Convincing someone? A socially inept kid like you?" Holland snorted.

"I told him there were ten more bombs planted in their camp and barracks. If they shot me, you'd detonate them all."

Holland flicked his cigarette away, straightening up in his seat. "That's absurd. Our remote detonators barely have any range. No way we could trigger them from a submarine a kilometer out. Who'd believe that?"

"Of course they did." Rain started walking toward the entrance to the pressure chamber.

"They're just kids."