Chương 228: 89. Incentive for Two 1

"Take me down, and you pass." Sergeant Takenaka said it the way you'd announce there'd be an extra vegetable on tonight's menu. The problem was, his idea of a vegetable was probably the eleven of us, minced fine, stirred together, and served on one plate. The room went dead first. Not quiet — dead. Every brain in the place stalled out at once, unable to decide whether to question the man's conscience or the Security Division's hiring standards first. D came back online first.

"... Sergeant. When you say 'take down' — tactical take-down, or medical-ward take-down?" Takenaka glanced at him.

"Depends on your ability."

"We're done," Harvey said, pressing a hand to his forehead, voice so thin it sounded like his soul had already left the building.

"That sounded like both are on the table."

"Not 'sounded like,'" Lan said, flat.

"Both. Definitely." I watched Takenaka up at the lectern, and the longer I looked, the more certain I became that he knew exactly what he'd just proposed — the training equivalent of sending a room full of infants who'd just learned to hold a spoon, bare-handed, against a grizzly. The only difference was that the bear probably wouldn't lecture you first. To be fair, Takenaka clearly wasn't trying to make it look like open child abuse. Or at least not too obviously.

He set the data pad aside, and — as if he'd finally decided to extend the bare minimum of human decency — added:"You can team up." Every eye in the room lit up at once. Then he finished the sentence.

"Maximum two per team, challenging me. If one person in the team wins, both of you pass."... Right. So not an upgrade from grizzly to hunting rifle. Just an upgrade from dying alone to dying two at a time. D pressed his palms together and tilted his face toward the ceiling.

"Thank you, Federation. Thank you, Security Division. Thank you for this small, barely-there, but nonetheless present ray of humanitarian light—""Shut up," Jess said.

"You're talking like we got a pardon. We got a double-occupancy death notice."

"At least it's double-occupancy," D said, dead serious.

"There's a real psychological difference between dying alone and dying with company."

"You're genuinely built for Security Division," Aida said.

"Even your attempts at comfort come out cursed." I was about to point out that none of this qualified as comfort, when Takenaka smiled again.... Shit. Nothing good ever follows that smile. Sure enough.

"First team to beat me," Takenaka said, "gets a prize." The half-dead air in the room ignited like someone had dumped a bucket of accelerant on it. Jess's hand shot up before he'd even finished — not a question, a claim.

"What's the prize?" Takenaka put his hands behind his back, slow, as if unveiling classified intel.

"Second-class cabin." One second of silence. Then a second. By the third, I was fairly sure I could see actual fire behind ten pairs of eyes. Not a figure of speech. A very specific, very shipboard-life-calibrated kind of hunger. As if that weren't enough, Takenaka helpfully filled in the specs.

"Private bathroom. A desk. Satellite channels." Harvey sucked in a breath. D grabbed the edge of the desk in front of him, face twisting like he'd just discovered long-lost family living one deck over.

"That's not a prize," he murmured.

"That's civilization."

"No," Roy said, eyes glazing.

"That's class."

"It's heaven," Akari added.

"It's the decadent, corrupt lifestyle of the bourgeoisie," Lan said, expressionless. D spun toward her.

"So you don't want it?"

"I want it."

"Then drop the moral high ground."

"I'm not on any high ground," Lan said, even.

"I'm just being honest about wanting to be corrupted." I nearly laughed. Jess's eyes had gone sharp too — not the usual sharp that shows up when she spots something worth hitting. A different kind. The kind that shows up when she spots something worth taking. Takenaka leaned back against the lectern, radiating a level of ease that made you want to throw something at him.

"Use rights start the moment you beat me, and run until we're back on campus. That should be motivation enough." Motivation? No. This wasn't motivation. This was taking a room full of trainees who'd been mourning their impending execution at the hands of a Security Division instructor and, on the spot, converting them into hungry animals willing to bite for a private shower and a television. D's hand went up first.

"Sergeant, I don't just have motivation. I'm experiencing personal transcendence."

"Your mental state was already questionable," Harvey said.

"Don't dignify it with 'transcendence.'""You don't understand," D said, hand over his heart, dead solemn.

"What a private bathroom means to a communal species is roughly what freedom means to civilization."

"If a history instructor heard you say that," Aida said, "they'd dunk you in disinfectant." I'd been momentarily dazzled by the keywords myself — private bathroom, desk, TV, three things that meant nothing under normal circumstances and everything on a warship — but after one full rotation of the thought, I landed on the more immediate problem.

"There are eleven of us," I said.

"Doesn't that mean someone has to solo you?" The room went quiet. Good. Not just me, then. Everyone who'd been mid-fantasy about whether to shower first or lie down and turn on satellite TV snapped back to reality. No prize was sweet enough to erase the fact that we were an odd number. Takenaka wore the exact expression of a teacher who'd set a trap question hours ago and was quietly delighted someone had finally stepped in it. Infuriating.

"First team that beats me," he said, "sends one person over to team up with whoever's left alone." D blinked. Roy's brow furrowed immediately.

"Wait, that's not right." He raised a hand.

"If the first team wins, and the person they send over loses the second round with the leftover person — doesn't that person get screwed?" Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Knew it. Roy looks perfectly harmless most of the time, but the second rules and payoff structures are on the table, his brain moves faster than anyone's.

Takenaka packed the training set of heat-triggered vaporizing charges back into its case as he answered, tone dripping with why would you think I hadn't considered that.

"Relax. I'll go easy."

"..."

"If I went at you for real," he said, snapping the latches shut, "you'd all be dead before round one. How would that even work?" That sentence was — infuriating, in a way that left no room for rebuttal. Worse, it was true. Two seconds of silence, then D let out something close to grief.

"The worst thing about adults like this is that they insult you and tell the truth in the same breath."

"You're having a lot of realizations today," Lan said.

"Thank you."

"Still not a compliment."

"I know. But lately I've been learning to scavenge positive energy from the wreckage."

"You're scavenging pretty badly." Takenaka clapped once.

"Rules are done. Form your teams. Three minutes. Find your own people." He paused, one corner of his mouth ticking up.

"Whoever wants first go — that's between you." We were finished. The second he said it, I knew the room was about to blow. And it wasn't going to be dignified. If shipboard life is a long war of attrition, then a second-class cabin is exactly the kind of high-value strategic asset that turns allies on each other and drags the predator out of otherwise normal classmates. So Takenaka's "find your own people" landed with roughly the same effect as a flashbang dropped in a narrow corridor. One beat of silence.

Then detonation.

"I call first!" D slammed the desk and stood, like one second's hesitation would cost him his ticket back to the civilized world.

"Who's with me? I offer premium tactical nonsense, on-site atmosphere control, and the bonus value of being extremely funny when I get hit—""No," Lan said.

"That was fast."

"Because you listed all your flaws in the pitch." Harvey capped his pen and eased back half a step, cautious, like he was avoiding something contagious.

"I have no interest in being the first team turned into a teaching specimen. Thanks."

"Harvey," D said, wounded.

"With that attitude, you'll never live in second class."

"At least I'll be alive to queue for the shared shower."

"No ambition."

"Ambition has to negotiate with survival rate when private plumbing's on the table." Jess, meanwhile, had no patience for the dockside-auction chaos. She turned straight to Maki.

"What do you think?" Maki hadn't moved since the announcement. Not even a shoulder twitch, like none of this had anything to do with her.

"Watch how everyone else loses first."

"... You are genuinely annoying sometimes."

"Thank you." I nearly laughed. Even thank you — Maki had clearly spent too much time around D. The contamination was progressing. Jess frowned. She'd clearly meant to just claim Maki outright, but that answer left her visibly unsatisfied.

"So you're planning to go last?"

"Going first is too rushed."

"You think first is stupid?"

"I didn't say that."

"But that's what you mean." Maki looked at her and didn't deny it. Sometimes not denying it is more infuriating than admitting it outright. Jess, predictably, choked on that — then turned her gaze on me. Every alarm I had went off at once.... Don't. Don't look at me like that. Don't give me the fine, if this one won't cooperate, I'll grab the other one who can at least fight look. My entire ambition in this second-class-cabin scramble was to survive it unnoticed, not get drafted as anyone's premium combat asset.

"Hoshino," Jess said.

"You—""No." Jess stopped. D let out a delighted sound from the side.

"Wow. Rejected before she even finished the sentence. High damage."

"Shut up," Jess said through her teeth. I pressed a hand to my forehead and mounted my defense early.

"It's not personal. It's aimed at anyone trying to drag me into first before my head's finished sorting itself out."

"Oh," Jess said, eyebrow up.

"So once it's sorted, it's a yes?"

"I didn't say yes."

"You didn't say never either."

"Could you not interrogate me like a witness?"

"You refused too fast. Now I'm curious." D watched with shining eyes, like a crow that had just spotted a free buffet open up mid-battlefield.

"Told you. Second-class cabins bring out the truth."

"Then tell us yours," Aida said.

"Like who you're actually trying to recruit as a sacrifice."

"That's ugly," D said, deeply solemn.

"I call it a soul-bonded battle partner."

"Who'd want their soul linked to yours?" Harvey asked.

"You never know," D said, glancing around before landing, with total naturalness, on Roy.

"Roy. What do you say? Brains and brawn. Quiet and loud. Classic pairing." Roy blinked, then genuinely seemed to consider it.

"Will you actually follow orders once we're up there?" D put a hand over his heart.

"Team discipline is one of my core values." The room went silent as one. Then Lan said, flat:"I'd suggest apologizing to the Federal flag first." Roy sighed.

"... Fine. I'll team with you."

"Seriously?" D lit up instantly.

"Roy, you're the first person today willing to believe in me."

"Not belief," Roy said, expressionless.

"Just the thought that if a normal person isn't there to supervise you, you'll actually fold yourself inside your own shield."

"That's still a little bit like belief."

"Comfort yourself however you need to." Good. First team was half-formed — and it was exactly the kind of pairing guaranteed to spend the whole match yelling at each other. Nearby, Aida claimed Harvey fast. Her logic was simple: Harvey at least looked like the type to plan an exit before getting hit, and in a Security Division assessment, that quality outranks charisma by a wide margin.

Harvey wore the complicated expression of a man drafted specifically for looking appropriately afraid of dying — but he agreed anyway. Akari drifted naturally toward Evelyn. One fast mouth, one steady hand — not the pair most likely to hit hardest, but definitely the pair least likely to kill themselves on the opening charge. After that, the air in the room turned delicate. Fewer people meant fewer options. Fewer options meant every glance started carrying weight. Me. Jess. Maki. Lan. Isshiki. And Maki.

She'd been standing by the window-side desks the whole time, never once fighting for airtime. Most of the time she's like a metal handrail on this ship — you don't think about her under normal conditions, but the second the deck starts tilting, you find out fast how badly you need something solid to grab. Not the loudest. Not the flashiest. Not the type to chase the spotlight. But Maki has a strange kind of steadiness. Not Tobita's — the kind that presses down on an entire airspace.

Not Evelyn's — the kind cold enough to file your emotions away along with everything else. Something closer to: even if the ship's rolling, whatever this person is holding won't be the first thing to drop. That was when she finally spoke.

"To be clear," Maki said.

"If anyone here just wants to rush the first slot, go find someone willing to go crazy with you. I'm not fighting first." Calm. Reasonable. And it cut clean through everyone else's restlessness. Jess frowned.

"You think going first is a bad deal?"

"Not bad," Maki said.

"Least information." Lan added, flat, from the side:"Accurate." Jess looked at Maki, then snorted.

"You're all the exact same brand of annoying." D, from across the room, cut in immediately.

"That's a very wide net. You're going to catch me in it."

"You're not the same brand," Lan said.

"You're an entirely separate category of disaster." D went quiet for two seconds.

"I'm taking that as official Security Division certification." Then Jess turned to me.

"Hoshino. You're with me." Not a question. An order. Something twitched at my temple.

"Is that recruitment or conscription?"

"Is there a difference?"

"A big one. I can consider the first. The second makes me want to defect on the spot." Jess narrowed her eyes.

"You think I'll drag you down?"

"I think you want to win badly enough to drag me into a wall with you."

"... You've gotten braver lately."

"Can't help it," I said, spreading my hands.

"Security Division forces growth." Jess's mouth twitched, like she wanted to argue and couldn't quite find the angle. Right as things were about to spark, Maki spoke.

"Hoshino." I turned. Maki was leaning against the desk edge, tone flat as ever — but clear.

"Team with me." A short silence fell. Not because it was earth-shattering. Because she doesn't fight for airtime, and when she does speak, it lands with weight. Jess frowned first.

"You too?" Maki looked at her.

"Not 'too.' I'm only speaking now."

"Does that make a difference?"

"Yes," Maki said.

"I'm not here for the first slot. I'm here to find someone who won't spike her teammate's heart rate into the red before the match even starts." D let out a deeply uncharitable "Oooh—" I wanted to hit him with a shield. Jess clearly caught the implication. Her eyebrow went up.

"You mean me?"

"What do you think?" Jess stepped forward.

"Want to test that?" Maki didn't back down.

"On the floor. Sure." Great. We hadn't even finished sorting teams, and they were already about to fight. Takenaka watched our corner from the lectern and made no move to stop it. His expression said, clear as anything: good — emotions flowing, conflict generating, the teaching material's writing itself. Security Division adults have no conscience. Confirmed. I pinched the bridge of my nose.

If I didn't cut this off now, this was genuinely going to become a civil war over cabin rights, in the classroom, before the drill even started.

"Hold on," I said.

"I haven't agreed to anyone." Jess fixed me with a stare.

"Then answer." Maki was watching too — not pushing, just waiting. Which was somehow worse. Some people push you out in the open. Some people don't push at all, and let your own conscience do the work. I ran the math fast. Team with Jess — the pace would be brutal, the power real, but one wrong step and I'd probably spend the whole match dragged along by her forward pressure.

Team with Maki — for reasons I couldn't quite name, my instinct said that combination had a real shot at surviving to the end without backing itself into a corner in the first five seconds. More than that: the way Maki had asked didn't treat me like a spare combat part. Hard to explain. But I could feel it. Finally, I looked up.

"... I'll team with Maki." The air held for a beat. Off to the side, D wore the exact expression of a man who desperately wished he had a pen. Jess's face darkened, just slightly. Not much. Just enough to be the most visible thing in the room.

"Oh," Jess said.

"You picked her."

"Yeah."

"Reason?"

"I'd like to live a little longer." D jumped in immediately.

"That one hits hard too."

"Shut up," Jess and I said, at exactly the same time. D spread his hands, all innocence.

"I'm just an enthusiast of the spectator arts today."

"You're the ignition source," Harvey called from a safe distance. Maki, who hadn't said a word through all of it, finally spoke, mild and even.

"This works." I looked at her.

"What works?" Her gaze flicked briefly between me and Jess.

"The rhythm won't be as messy." Jess heard that, and her expression turned even less friendly.

"So teaming with me would be messy?" Maki considered it.

"Fast."

"What's wrong with fast?"

"Nothing wrong with fast," Maki said.

"Out of control is the problem." Wow. That blade was honed to a clean edge. Jess laughed on the spot. Not a happy laugh. The fine, I'm keeping score kind.

"You two are both very good with your mouths today."

"Thank you," Maki said.

"That was not a compliment!"

"I know."... We were finished. Genuinely finished. Maki wasn't just contaminated by D anymore — she'd reached the stage of reverse-weaponizing the contamination. The final teams settled out of a scramble that was undignified but stopped just short of an actual classroom brawl. D and Roy. Harvey and Aida. Akari and Evelyn. Lan and Jess. Hoshino and Maki. Isshiki — left without a team. Takenaka glanced at the roster and nodded.

"Good. First team — D, Roy." D had been playing at composure while reading the list. The second he heard his own name called for real, his face looked like it had taken a direct hit of lightning.

"... Seriously?" Roy turned his head slowly.

"Weren't you thrilled about calling first, thirty seconds ago?"

"That was theoretical enthusiasm," D said.

"Practically speaking, I currently need the bathroom."

"If you actually lose control of your bladder up there," Lan said, "I will personally see to it that it enters shipboard legend."

"Thank you for your friendship." Takenaka pointed toward the training bay.

"Up."