My apologies for the wait as always.

Chapter 2

Many Meetings

Steve Martin breathed a sigh of simultaneous exhaustion and relief as he stepped out of the warm, stuffy air of the airplane and into the pleasantly cool interior of Tokyo International Airport.

Normally, he liked flying. He had since he was a kid. Why, he had no idea, but it was a definite benefit when one's career involved taking flights to wherever United World News decided to ship you off to – especially when, more often than not, that place easily took over twelve hours to reach (and it wasn't uncommon, particularly when the numerous stops at other locations along the way were concerned, for it to be longer). Even with that, there was also something about airports themselves that he generally liked as well. The reason for that he couldn't be sure of either.

And as for airplanes themselves, just the experience of riding in one was exhilarating. He had to take whatever seat his ticket assigned him, of course, but he always privately gave God a small thanks whenever he received a window seat – though naturally he couldn't very well eagerly stick his face right up to the glass as they were taking off like he had whenever the rare opportunity of flight presented itself to him in his younger days. Even the jolts up and down that happened when the plane hit some turbulence, which made most people cringe, were his equivalent of a roller coaster. In fact, had he possessed the nerve or reflexes for the job, he could have made a successful fighter pilot. If the concept of war had had any appeal to him, that is.

The flight had started out well enough. After watching out the window with as much dignity as possible as they took off and the earth disappeared beneath them and into the clouds, he eased back into his chair and started and opened up the latest British bestseller, a strange little book with the fittingly strange title of The Fellowship of the Ring. He was shortly served a small cup of coffee and a package of peanuts, both of which he found much higher in quality than on American flights.

But then, a few hours into the trip, as they flew across the Pacific Ocean, he began to feel… uneasy. There was no feasible reason why; he was still getting a surprisingly high level of enjoyment from the book and there was nothing wrong with his concessions or service from the flight crew. Yet he felt distantly as if something was wrong. He had no idea how to explain why he felt that way, but something within him told him that all was not right in the world. Just like it had on August 6, almost ten years ago. Then he had seen the news… and then the same thing came again three days later…

But don't think about that, he told himself. Shaking his head, as if that could clear both the feeling and the memory, he tried to concentrate on the book. But even as he read the pages, he found that it suddenly didn't seem to have much appeal. Closing it, he inclined his chair slightly and closed his eyes in an attempt to sleep. But it seemed to take an eternity for sleep to take him, and even then it was uneasy, haunted constantly by some great, dark, amorphous shape so that when he awoke to find that they had landed, he felt anything but rested.

Now free of the disturbing feeling, he cheerfully dismissed the whole thing as his imagination and set off to collect his baggage.

The airport looked different from when he had last seen it. Since then, it had been taken over by US occupation forces and, though it still continued to function as a public airport to a certain extent, was renamed Haneda Army Air Base. It had probably been the most troublesome flight experience of Steve's life when he had visited Japan during that period; it kept getting delayed because of the base's constant aircraft scheduling. Because of similar reoccurring problems, part of it had been given back to Japan two years ago - the part he was currently standing in - but sure signs of its former ownership were clearly visible. Even as he looked out the window he could see some kind of American fighter jet - an F-86 Sabre, if he was correct - taking off from the other half of the airport on some unknown errand.

Yes, perhaps half-buried but still constantly present, despite the fact that they were now technically allies, tensions still existed between Japan and the States. The fact that most of the airport was still occupied by the American Air Force, and the tell-tale signs inside the very building that Japan's repossession of what they did have was rather recent, showed that quite clearly. Even when he had been on the flight, he had once or twice caught someone looking at him as though blaming him personally for something, though they had sharply looked away when he turned to them. He supposed this was better than any amount of open hostility - everyone seemed polite enough when he talked to them, though it was admittedly hard to tell with what little Japanese he knew - but it still made him uneasy.

Pushing the thoughts aside, he made his way to the baggage claim and searched for his luggage. He had just found his suitcase when he felt someone tap his shoulder. He turned to see a young Japanese man, perhaps somewhere around Steve's age - or he could have been five years younger; it was a bit hard to tell precisely. His face was handsomely sculpted, with a head of jet-black hair collected in a respectable fashion on his head that looked like it never required the assistance of a comb to tidy. His clothes were semi-casual: a pair of khaki pants and a white collared shirt with a tie, but rolled up at the sleeves and without a jacket. He smiled at him warmly and spoke to him in English: "Steve Martin?"

"Yes?" Steve answered, curious.

"Hideto Ogata," the young man introduced himself, extending his hand. "I am a friend of Dr. Serizawa."

"Ah yes," Steve nodded with a returning smile, shaking Ogata's hand firmly. "I remember you. I met you once on my last visit, right?"

Ogata smiled again. "Serizawa told me you had a good memory."

"And how is he?"

"He's fine, though he was disappointed that he wasn't able to meet you here himself."

Steve cocked his head and frowned slightly. "Why, is there something wrong?"

"Well, no, nothing really wrong," replied Ogata. "He just had to go inland for a few days for some field experiments. They only told him last-minute. He tried to have them delayed, but they were much too important. He'll be back before you have to leave, though, but he still hopes you understand."

"Of course." Steve would never dream of trying to separate the scientist from his work; he knew how important it was to him, and he well understood how unexpected things could suddenly pop up in your career.

"Excuse me, sir?" Steve turned to the source of the voice to find yet another person talking to him, this time a slightly overweight security guard. "You were a passenger on the 11:30 flight from LAX, yes?"

"That's right."

"Then you are needed in the security office for questioning, please."

So much for no open hostility, Steve thought inwardly. But he was careful to keep all traces of it out of his tone and expression as he said politely, "Is this a polite way of telling me I'm under arrest, sir?"

"No, no arrest," answered the officer. "We are questioning everyone on the flight. But it is most imperative that you come, please."

Steve shared a slightly confused look with Ogata, then shrugged and nodded to the security guard. "I'll hold your bags. I'll be waiting in the lobby," he said as Steve followed the officer.

The security office was a small, slightly crowded room, lit only by the dim sunlight streaming in from between the window blinds. Roughly half of it was taken up by a blocky wooden desk, behind which sat who Steve guessed was the head of the airport's security. The name on the desk said Koichi Hunaga.

"Hello, sir," the man said, reaching over the desk to shake Steve's hand.

"Steve Martin, United World News," Steve introduced himself.

Mr. Hunaga's eyebrows raised slightly. "What news is important enough for you to travel all the way to Japan?"

"Actually, I'm here on layover while I wait for a flight to Cairo. I'm just stopping here for a few days to visit an old college friend of mine, Dr. Serizawa."

Hunaga nodded and gestured to the front area of the desk. "Please, take a seat." The chair was uncomfortable, and after so long on the airplane Steve was eager to stand up and walk around as much as he could, but he complied.

Hunaga apparently decided not to waste any time with small talk. "During the flight, did you happen to notice anything strange or unusual, particularly out your window?"

Steve frowned, trying to remember something. Anything - whatever they were trying to find out must be pretty important if they were questioning everyone on the flight. Of course, now that he thought about it, there had been that eerie sense of foreboding, but that could hardly be of any use. "Well... I didn't notice anything," he said finally. "I spent some time reading... writing a little... and the rest of the time I was sleeping."

Hunaga seemed visibly disappointed, and Steve decided to press forward. "I understand you're questioning everyone that was on the plane. What is it you're trying to find out?"

The officer was silent for a moment, then rose from the desk and gazed out the window with a faraway look in his eye. "...Well... it's not as if the news won't spread eventually. I might as well tell a reporter."

Steve got up and walked up beside him. Normally he might have been excited about what was looking increasingly like a big exclusive, but something about the grave way talked told him that this was something that would be greatly improved to Steve if he never heard about it. Nevertheless, he looked at Hunaga expectantly, waiting for him to continue.

"You see, we don't know exactly what we're dealing with. During the span of your flight, at about 3:30 this morning, a Japanese fishing ship, the Eiko-Maru, was capsized due to an unknown cause. They only had enough time to send in a partial telegraphic message before they were cut off."

"What did the message say?"

"It said that the whole ocean exploded. A flash of light and a terrible sound."

"Hmm... could have been a stray mine. Maybe a collision."

"Then why did they not simply report a mine or a collision?" As Steve mulled this over, went on. "Besides, that's not all the message said. The last sentence only managed to get partway through before the ship sank. It says, 'It's a hu-' then cuts off."

Steve wrinkled his brow, trying to think of any possibilities of what the word could be. "Hurricane?" he guessed. "Huge? Hundred?"

Hunaga shrugged hopelessly. "Who can tell for sure, without the rest of the message? But since we can decidedly rule out hurricane, someone or something attacked the ship, Mr. Martin. Whatever this was, it is was no accident."

"Are there any plans to send a rescue ship to look for survivors?"

Another shrug. "This is over my head. Our orders to question your flight came directly from the government."

Which told Steve one thing: This was something big. He wasn't even at Cairo yet, and here was what was surely a major story right in front of him. But this did little to comfort him - the bigger a story that involved people dying, the more people were dead, and the more people ended up dying later.

"Well, I'm sorry I couldn't be of more assistance, sir."

"Not at all," Hunaga said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Enjoy your stay in Japan."

"Thank you." With that, Steve left the room. Privately, though, he wondered how much he would be able to do that if this was how his trip started.

Ogata spotted Steve through the crowd of people coming and going from the lobby and waved as he walked up to him. He noticed as he got closer and fell into step alongside him that the man looked somewhat troubled.

"What did they want?" he asked. "Or are you not allowed to tell me?"

"No, I'm allowed," Steve said absently. He waited a moment before he spoke. "They wanted to know if I saw anything unusual on my flight. A ship was apparently sunk near the area we flew over."

"The Eiko-Maru?"

Steve looked at him in surprise.

"I work for Southern Sea Salvage," Ogata explained. "I got a call shortly before I left to come here that said it capsized somewhere off the coast, near Odo Island. Actually-" his expression suddenly turned a bit sheepish, "I don't have time to drop you off anywhere before I have to go there. They said it was urgent, and it was risky enough delaying to come here first. You don't mind, do you?"

"No, of course not," replied Steve easily. "Actually, I'm rather interested in the situation."

"I can imagine."

The rest of the walk to Ogata's car was spent in silence, which Ogata spent dwelling on his own private thoughts and suspecting that Steve was doing the same.

Friend of Dr. Serizawa, he had said. Maybe that would have been true had he declared it a few months ago - maybe. He had once been his friend, certainly. But now he wasn't sure that Serizawa being friends with anybody nowadays was an accurate statement. He had grown so... distant. It was like he was on one side of a thin, yet unmistakably tangible veil, while the rest of the world remained on the other side. Part of Ogata just told him that Serizawa was just absorbed with his work - he remembered that he had mentioned something about coming close to a breakthrough - but he had detected that haunted look behind the scientist's one remaining eye on more than one occasion. No, there was definitely something else going on here. He just wish he knew what.

He gave a hopeful mental shrug. Perhaps this Steve Martin could snap him out of it. The two went back much further than Ogata and him did; maybe a visit from an old friend was just what Serizawa needed. He hoped so. He had enough to think about, especially with the present situation involving the Eiko-Maru.

And Emiko.

"As you all know, at 19:05 hours this morning, the Southern Sea Steamship Company fishing vessel Eiko-Maru was reported lost at approximately 24 degrees latitude north, 141.02 degrees longitude east," the head of Sector 3 was saying just as Ogata entered, Steve keeping pace directly behind him.

The room was rather large, yet also managed to be, or at least seem, somewhat crowded. A large number of technical-looking instruments - telegraphs, sonar readings, and other such things useful for the kind of work Southern Sea Salvage performed - were gathered in clusters along the walls. One wall was covered almost entirely by a detailed map of the oceans surrounding Japan, while a lengthy table covered with new reports about the lost ship took up most of the space in the center of the room, not to mention the eighteen or so people sitting behind it and moving about the room. Placed at just about every other space that could be spared was something more unique, like a globe or telephone.

Ogata gave a short nod to the man standing in front of the map as he sat down. Steve, meanwhile, leaned against the opposite wall nonchalantly in an apparent effort to make him as inconspicuous as possible. Several of the people at the table frowned at the American, just standing there and seemingly listening to a private conversation, but Ogata said quickly in Japanese, "It's alright, he's with me. He doesn't speak Japanese." He was careful not to look at Steve as he said it, lest the man think that he was saying something negative about him. "Continue freely."

The man nodded and moved on. "All units in Sectors 3 and 4 are to stand by for immediate action."

Akume Yamasaki, the President of Southern Sea Salvage, stood up to speak. He was somewhat old, perhaps in his late 60s or early 70s, with a head of mostly white hair. He had abandoned exercising when his brittle bones grew weary of it, and now even his finely tailored suit could not completely mask his large gut. Ogata was surprised to see him here; his appearances down in these lowly catacombs of his company were only taken on rare, urgent occasions that always alluded to some form of bad news. "Do you have any lead on what may have happened to it? Why it sunk?"

"...There was... apparently some kind of explosion. We lost contact shortly after their SOS, but they did manage to get in that there was a blinding flash of light and some sort of extremely loud sound, as well as another fragmented word we have not yet been able to identify."

Yamasaki nodded somberly and sat back down as a man who Ogata recognized as the head of Section 4 rose. "Well," he said, gesturing to a marker representing a ship that had been stuck on the map of Japan's coastal areas, "we have just dispatched a rescue vessel, the Bingo-Maru, to the area to find any survivors or evidence for the cause of this incident. It should arrive at the site in a few hours' time."

The ship was technically going at a normal pace. Yet, if one were there to observe its progress, it would seem that the Bingo-Maru crept abnormally slowly through the waters, as if unwilling to keep traveling ahead. The sky was obscured by a blanket of thick, grey clouds that made it seem almost like night and gave the air a stifling quality. The waves reflected the clouds, giving them a sludgy black color and preventing visibility to anything more than a foot underneath the surface.

And then, it happened so quickly that there was no time to react; a patch of water suddenly began to froth and boil as a light as intense as the absent sun flared outward. The center section of the ship was engulfed by a fiery explosion, blasting shrapnel and flaming bodies into the ocean. The two opposite ends of the ship began to tilt inward toward each other as their interiors filled up with water.

Whatever man on the bridge was still alive desperately honked the Bingo-Maru's horn, as if anything could possibly come of it. It sounded like a wounded animal crying futilely for help from its separated herd. Then it, along with the burning remains of the ship, was swallowed up forever by the sea.