《Saga of the Cosmic Heroes》 Volume 1 Chapter 0: Tragedy:Remedy | Shattered Innocence
206 UC
Somewhere in the vast stars, a ship lies stranded with no means to escape¡­
¡°¡ªMomma¡­! ¡­Momma!¡ª¡± I put all my strength into shaking her, but it comes to no avail. There is no response. Just a moment ago, the two of us were hurrying along the dimly lit corridor. The next thing I know, she collapses to the floor behind me, on her side. ¡°Momma¡­! Please¡­! Get up!¡­¡± The words trail off on their own, replaced by trembling tears rolling down my cheeks and panic. I feel overcome by panic. With each jerk comes no response. No reaction. By now momma would¡¯ve woken up and chastised me for being so noisy. She would¡¯ve reassured me that everything will be okay. But her cold, empty eyes do not blink even once. No words come out of her lips. ¡°Momma¡­pl¡ª¡± ¡ªA sinister sound from behind us leaves me frozen in complete terror. Continuous ear-piercing metal being dragged against metal. With each passing second, the harsh scraping only serves to heighten the anxiety. Unable to budge, the nightmare only gets louder. But then it stops. Down the narrow corridor, the figure emerges between flickering lights. In his hand is a¡ª A chill runs down my spine. A small axe. The head drips with red. The same red that momma smeared across the wall. The same color that trails to us. The very same pool of red that momma lies in. It¡¯s the man from before. The one who did this to momma. Between the flickering lights, the man inches closer in total silence. ¡°Well, well, what do we have here?¡± The cackle of his high pitched voice breaks the eerily silence. Before long, Axe stands towering over us. His axe wielding arm sways from side to side. Axe¡¯s gaze looks past me, at the body of momma. ¡°Hm? What happened to her? Dead already?¡± Without a shred of hesitation, the evil man kicks me to the side. A single moment of shock occurs¡ªthen sharp pain as I hit the ground and tumble. My entire body aches as I struggle to steady my mind. The blurriness passes, and I regain vision in time to witness Axe kneeling down next to momma. He jerks her by the shoulder and exposes her bloodied torso. ¡°Tch¡­ what use is a dead whore?¡± Axe lets go and moves away from the lifeless body. His gaze falls onto me. ¡°She¡¯s a young one, but¡­¡± Axe cracks a grin with such evil intent it only sends a sincere shiver down my spine. But I still couldn¡¯t budge, there is no use trying to escape. My body is still numb with fear. Axe reaches out to grab a handful of my hair. ¡°No¡­no!¡± I scream with everything I have, trying to tear myself away, but it is no use. The resistance only causes more pain from the hair pull. ¡°Quiet!¡± He bellows in response. As he stretches out in preparation to strike, I hear rattling footsteps from behind us. ¡°Over here! I heard it this way!¡± ¡°Tch¡­!¡± Axe releases his cruel hold and pushes me back down. He sprints down the opposite end of the hallway in rhythm of the flickering lights and finally vanishes from view. With Axe no longer present, I break down into soul-shattering sobs. The rattling of boots against the iron grate floor become deafening until they shudder to a halt behind me¡ªheaving sighs momentarily fill the weeping air. I sense one of them moving towards momma. With tears still obstructing my vision, I can only make out the outline of a tall cloaked figure examining the red-ridden wall, slowly, before he kneels down next to momma. ¡°I don¡¯t believe it¡­¡± His deep coarse voice fills the silence between my gasping hiccups. Using the wall as support, Giant heaves himself up with a grunt and slowly walks over to me. With each step closer, the trembling only gets worse. ¡°Shhh, it¡¯s okay now.¡± Giant kneels down next to me and rests his enormous hands on my tiny shoulders. It helps to steady the shakiness. ¡°It¡¯s okay now. You¡¯re in¡­ safe company.¡± With a single thumb, Giant gently wipes away the tears from my eyes. I try to speak, but the shock leaves me speechless. ¡°The woman¡­¡± Giant utters in my stead. He turns to face momma, who has now been carefully wrapped up by one of the other member¡¯s cloak. ¡°¡ªI¡¯m sorry little one, but¡­¡± Giant shakes his head rather sorrowfully. I refuse to believe it. ¡°Momma¡­!¡± I scramble to get up. I want to be by her side, just as I¡¯ve always been. I wanted to embrace her, even if it was for the last time. ¡°Momma..!¡± I cry out once more. My vision is once more blurred by tears. But Giant¡¯s grip stops me in my tracks. ¡°Let go! Let go! I want to be with momma¡­!¡± I shriek out at Giant. Giant reels me back toward him. ¡°¡ªShe¡¯s dead! Your mother is dead!¡± That word, dead. The concept of death. When a person no longer moves or does anything that a living person might do. I first experienced it with my baby brother¡¯s death a couple years ago. Then my brother. Then papa. And now momma. My vision is shrouded once more, a torrent of tears roll down my cheeks. Giant slowly gives me an embrace. ¡°I¡¯m¡­¡± Giant struggles to maintain his composure, ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m sorry little one¡­ ¡°¡ªI will punish the one who did this. But you must help me point him out.¡± Feeling nothing but emptiness, I could only offer a weak nod. ¡°Pick her up, carefully.¡± Giant orders to one of the chubby members. Fatty does as he is told and gently lifts up momma. ¡°Come, we will converge with the others in the docking bay. It will not be long before the rest of the raiding party returns.¡± Giant says in his coarse tone. The docking bay¡­ that was where papa and brother were to greet the intruders, but that was before we knew what they were going after. Before the meeting turned violent¡­ We make our way back the way we came. Back towards the carnage that had unfolded not too long ago. Giant pushes me closer towards him. He buries my head into his leg, blocking my vision. ¡°Do not look, young one. It will not do you any good.¡±
Eventually, we finally come to a stop. Giant releases his hold on me, and I step away out of caution. There are many men going about their business. Some stop to glance at us, but otherwise say nothing and continue about. The nearby boarding bridge is busy with people carrying things or otherwise coming back from the other ship. But like a slow tidal wave, the men all proceed to line the walls at attention. I look up at Giant out of curiosity. He gulps and remains silent, but notices my stare and provides a sly smile. ¡°¡­You might want to look away, little one. My boss has a face that¡­ uh, gives lasses nightmares.¡± A man with a large build emerges out of the boarding bridge. As he approaches us, I could make out his face more clearly¡ª It was horribly disfigured on one side. I immediately feel my stomach churn. I catch only a glimpse of rough purplish flesh before I jump back out of reflex and cling face-first into Giant¡¯s leg once more. Giant only musters a chuckle in response to my discovery. ¡°What is funny, Simon?¡± The monotonous question was directed at Giant. ¡°Humor me. I love jokes.¡± A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Simon clears his throat loudly. ¡°¡­Your¡­ facial condition has started this child.¡± ¡°¡­A child?¡± There are murmurs in the room, ¡°¡­ I see.¡± ¡°Dong. We have a problem at hand.¡± I tighten my grip on Simon¡¯s leg as I hear the one named Dong step closer. I peek from Simon¡¯s leg to catch a glimpse of momma¡¯s corpse being presented to Dong. ¡°Mom¡ª!¡± Simon firmly reaches down and seals my mouth shut with his hand. Dong lifts up a part of the cloak and inspects her for a moment. ¡°¡­.Mmmmm.¡± He drops the cover and walks to the center of the room, where he continues humming while stroking his fuzzy beard. Dong returns to the wrapped up corpse and forcibly pulls off most of the cloak, exposing momma¡¯s corpse to the room. I attempt to cry out in protest, but Simon¡¯s hand forbids it. ¡°There is an individual among us who has violated the creed,¡± he shouts in a forceful manner ¡°and violation calls for punishment. ¡°If you do not present yourself, I will have everyone executed!¡± There is complete silence. Simon and I both meet eyes, and he kneels down to me. ¡°Little one, do you see the one who did this your mother?¡± He asks with a tone more serious than before. I step back and glance all around the room, but my vision turns into a spinning daze. All the faces become distorted and blend into one, it¡¯s hard to distinguish them from one another. But out of the flurry confusion, I notice him. Axe. Although he had a terrified expression, it was all too recognizable. It was burned into memory at this point. He is in the far back, slowly inching the way to the boarding bridge. Although Axe was partially obscured by a half raised hood, it was the worried glance that gave him away. With a trembling arm, I point in the direction of Axe. The room¡¯s gaze shifts to my indicator¡ªsome even scurry out of the way so they do not get mistaken. Soon enough there is a clear line of sight between Axe and I. Simon flashes me a grin before he promptly heaves himself up. ¡°Well, Dong, it seems we have our culprit. ¡°Hold him down!¡± ¡°No! No! You got it all wrong!¡± Axe cries out as men nearby pin him down by the limbs. Dong lets out a scoff as he makes his way to Axe. He clicks his tongue and Axe lets out childish whimpers. Dong gently strokes Axe¡¯s lightly bearded chin.¡°Karwoski¡­ Karwoski¡­ you are¡ªwere¡ªone of my best men.¡± The stroke turns into an intense grip. Karwoski lets out a pained grunt and grits his teeth. With his free hand, Dong reaches into Karwoski¡¯s cloak and brandishes his axe, now caked dry with blood. The very sight of the axe was more sickening than Dong¡¯s disfigurement. ¡°No women,¡± he sways Karwoski¡¯s head to one side, ¡°no children,¡± Karwoski¡¯s head sways to the other side, ¡°no sick or elderly¡ªsimple as!¡± Karwoski, amid a stream of tears, lets out an agonized grunt as Dong¡¯s grip tightens. Dong raises the axe above his head, but stops. ¡°What is it, Dong? Let¡¯s get this over with al¡ª¡± ¡°Hand this to the girl.¡± Dong dryly cuts off Simon from saying any more. Simon and I return glances of puzzlement. ¡°Dong¡­ you don¡¯t mean¡ª¡± ¡°Keep him pinned down.¡± Dong lets go of his grip on Karwoski and storms over to grab me by the arm. ¡°Ah¡­!¡± Dong practically drags me back across the room to Karwoski, where he thrusts the axe into my hands. For such a small axe, it is surprisingly heavy. The impact from being thrown into my hands nearly causes me to fall over, but Dong extends an arm and stops me from falling face flat onto the iron grated floor. The crowd can¡¯t help but chuckle at my misfortune. ¡°Come on, give it all you got.¡± Dong props me back up, and returns behind Karwoski. He takes one hand and grabs the frightened man by the hair¡ªand pulls back with all his strength. Karwoski lets out another anguish cry. ¡°D-Dong¡­ please¡­ don¡¯t do this, I¡¯m sorry¡­ I¡¯ll¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªHave you ever swung something like that before, little one?¡± Ignoring the plea for forgiveness, Dong stares me down with vicious intent as Karwoski squirms around in place. The pressure from his gaze alone is more than enough to make me freeze in place. Trembling, I can only offer a slight shake of my head. Dong smiles, an expression that becomes even more menacing from the disfigurement. He jabs a thumb into Karwoski¡¯s throat, who struggles to gag and gasp for air. Dong proceeds to make motion across his throat, as if to indicate a slicing gesture. ¡°Swing it right across here. Like this.¡± ¡°Captain, this is outrageous.¡± Simon warns from behind us. I hear him take a few steps closer. ¡°You¡¯re going to traumatize the poor¡ª¡± ¡°Not another word.¡± Not once does Dong break his frightening gaze with me. The eyes of a monster peers into me. ¡°Doesn¡¯t it feel satisfying to see the one who hurt your loved¡­ in pain?¡± As Karwoski wrings in complete pain, an instinct I never felt before surges throughout my tiny body. ¡°Don¡¯t you feel the desire to inflict pain on him¡­ yourself?¡± The axe doesn¡¯t feel as heavy anymore. In fact, it starts to feel weightless, almost like a feather. ¡°¡ªAs he had done to her?¡ªwouldn¡¯t it be satisfying to hear his blood-curdling screams?¡± ¡°NO! NO!¡ª¡± A step forward. Time itself feels as though it stops. A few more steps forward feels like seconds¡ªminutes¡ªhours have passed. The fear in Karwoski¡¯s eyes grows larger with each step I take. His mouth wide in terror. The same fear I have gone through. But nothing comes out. No screams. I couldn¡¯t hear anything at all. Dong and the others let go at the last possible second. Karwoski attempts to shield himself, but it makes no difference. With every fiber of my body I swing the head of the axe straight across into Karwoski¡¯s neck. His eyes are so wide it almost seems like they would pop out any second. Soon after contact, the same familiar red fluid spews from where my axe slices like butter. At this point, I don¡¯t feel in control anymore. Soon after the first strike, the axe raises itself above my head as if possessed. But before another blow can be delivered, I feel someone grab the axe. Somebody pulls me back before the burst of fluid can reach me. The rush disappears. Before long, time comes back as quick as it had gone. My senses come back. The first thing that registers for me is the incredible weight of the axe, and I let it fall with a clatter to the floor beside me. A year ago or so, I remember when papa had reeled in a fish when he and my older brother were fishing. The poor thing flailed around as if gasping for air, but it¡¯s violent flips and turns eventually stopped, and it no longer moved from that moment on. Before me, it almost feels like Karwoski is mimicking the fish. If this were a game of charades, I bet he would lose right away. He gurgles and gasps, spitting out what fluid did not escape through his gaping neck. Pleading for Dong to help him. But nobody comes to his aid. No one steps forward and attempts to stall his injury. I feel a hand block my vision, despite my attempts to break away. Simon reels me around and shoves me into his legs. ¡°That¡¯s well enough!¡± The coarse voice belonging to the giant Simon fills my ears. I feel Simon strip off his cloak and place it on my tiny shoulders. ¡°What the hell is wrong with you captain?¡± The one he calls captain¡ªDong presumingly¡ªignores the question. ¡°Take care of business here, Simon. And decide for yourself what you will do with the girl, rather or not you take her into your care is your decision¡­ I will be in my chambers.¡± Dong roars with laughter as he walks away. A disturbing mixture of gurgling and the echoes of Dong fills the large room. Simon twists around to address the crowd. ¡°The lot of you! Hustle! I do not want to be caught by patrol ships. I want all of you back on ship in 10.¡± I couldn¡¯t see it, but there was a rumble of boots stomping away into the direction of the boarding bridge. After most of it settles down, I sense Simon kneeling down to face me. ¡°Are you okay, little one?¡± I want to respond, but still can¡¯t bring myself to form any words. So instead, I give a nod. Simon gives an exasperated sigh as he looks past me at Karwoski¡ªwho has now gone eerily silent. I try to look behind me but Simon is quick to grab my chin, forcing me to look at him. ¡ªBut lessens his grip to avoid hurting me too much. ¡°A child like you shouldn¡¯t be exposed to that. You have seen enough already, come.¡± Simon adjusts the cloak more around me and pushes me in the direction of the bridgeport. He walks on the side where Karwoski¡¯s body is, possibly to prevent me from seeing it. We enter the long tube leading to the other end of the bridge. Once we reach the end, we are briefly stopped by the Dong man. He has his arms crossed, staring intently first at me, then Simon. ¡°¡ªYou¡¯ve made up your mind about this?¡± ¡°We don¡¯t have much of a choice now, do we?¡± Was Simon¡¯s remark. Dong lets his arms drop and activates the blast door¡ªand before entering he turns back to point at me. ¡°The moment she becomes a burden, Simon¡ªI am releasing her in an escape shuttle... even so, I will not guarantee her protection if someone so happens come exact revenge for Karwoski.¡± ¡°¡­I understand, thank you, captain.¡± Simon bows his head as the blast door slides shut after Dong. Outside in deep space, the hum of engines turn on¡ªnot from my ship, but Simon¡¯s. ¡°Come, the ship is preparing to leave.¡± ¡°Mm¡­¡± ¡°What is your name little one?¡± ¡°Li¡­ ¡°¡ªLi Chou.¡± Simon only gives me a weak smile. ¡°Well Li¡­ it¡¯s not the best way to meet someone¡­ but, it¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, I¡¯m Simon Oliver. Everything will be okay now. You have my word.¡± For the first time in what feels like forever, I feel a sense of ease. Chapter 1: Tragedy:Remedy | The Changing Times
SOMETIME IN 213 UC
SOMEWHERE IN MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA
¡°Victoria! Victoria! Ah¡­geez¡­ Victoria!¡± I sprint as fast as my pair of legs permit, maybe even faster. Behind me, I could hear Friederika¡¯s pleas and exhaustive pants growing distant. Her cries were drowned out by my own heavy breathing and the sound of my heart beating in my eardrums. It¡¯s not often that I run like this. There''s only a few memories I can recall; most of which being new game or magazine releases. But this is something different. Something larger in scale than any little cool new hip game or whatever. Of course, I am talking about the first ever launch of the new Metropolitan Space Navy. There¡¯s never been any talk of this before in the history of, like, ever. Just thinking about the planned launch gets me all excited and giddy. This is history in the making, and I¡¯m not about to miss it. I¡¯ve been looking forward to it so much that I almost didn¡¯t go to classes today. And even though I did, I wanted to ditch before the bell even rang! I first found out about it from a friend of mine a couple months ago over a lunch break, I''ve been hyped for this moment since then. I still remember the scene like it was only yesterday.
A FEW MONTHS EARLIER
When I entered the class, there was quite a buzz. A number of students were crowded around a desk trying to get a closer look at something. I ignored it at first, and headed over to my desk at the back of the classroom to set down my bag. But curiosity is a finnickly thing. There were some ooohs and aaahs. And feeling left out I attempted to wade through the wall of people to get a closer look. My gaze singled out one of the people I knew all too well: my best friend, Friederika Trachenberg. ¡°What¡¯s going on, Kiki? That was the nickname I gave her. Even long after I met her, attempting to pronounce Fred-e-kuh properly is too much of a hassle sometimes. But that¡¯s a funny thing to say when my last name is even more ridiculous; Happ-Schwarzenberger. I never liked telling people my last name since they always give me a tease, calling me names like Happ-Shortsburger instead. Friederika turned to face me with the most uninterested expression. ¡°Oh? Ah¡­ some stream for an announcement.¡± ¡°Eh? An announcement of what?¡± Friederika wiggled her way out of the human mosh pit, and shrugged with a sigh. ¡°Beats me, I¡¯m going back to my class to watch a M-drama*. I¡¯ll catch you later, mmkay?¡± I waved to her as she departed, and turned my attention back to the stream. I noticed one of my other friends, Paul Plotte, a guy with big swirly glasses and an equally big bush of hair trying to contain his excitement and. I gave Paul a tap on the shoulder. ¡°Hey, what¡¯s all the ruckus for?¡± Paul pushed his big nerdy glasses up his nose. ¡°Why, we¡¯re about to hear the official announcement of a new military branch!¡± I tilted my head in confusion ¡°A what now?¡± ¡°A new branch of the military! They¡¯re calling it the¡­ ¡°Shhh! Shhh!¡± He waved at everyone to quiet down ¡°it¡¯s starting! It¡¯s starting!¡± Before I could ask what, I tried to get a closer look at the tablet the stream was one. On stream an important looking man wearing a blue business form took to the podium. There were flickers of lights and the sounds of camera shutters as he gave a wrinkly smile and waved his hand. ¡°Good evening ladies and gentlemen of Terra, and many salutations to those throughout the Federation of Sol tuning in. I hope you are all having an excellent day. Today, we have an important announcement to make. As I¡¯m sure many of you may know by now¡­ chaos reigns throughout our beloved Orion Arm. The cries of our people in the outer colonies have gone on in vain for far too long. ¡°Our people on capitol hill have worked tirelessly over the years to bring forth a package to restore order to many star systems wrought with devastation. Devestation on a scale we have not experienced since the days of our great forefathers centuries ago, during the days of the Great Resource Wars. ¡°But no longer! Today, I am pleased to announce not only the formation of the Federation Space Force, but also it¡¯s imminent construction at several naval yards across our beloved Australia. In time, this great and mighty navy will answer the cries of the bereaved. We will bring an end to this age of piracy together, for the betterment of the Federation and her people!¡± The figure finished with a raised pumped fist. The blinding flickers of light and camera shutters that followed were drowned out by the roar of applause from the audience. In our classroom, the silence was broken by a round of applause of our own. I found myself joining in before I even noticed. ¡°A new naval branch!¡± ¡°Wow!¡± ¡°This is history in the making!¡± I had goosebumps all over. I wasn¡¯t too sure what this is about exactly, but it was oddly exciting. I usually don¡¯t care too much for grown up stuff. Much less stuff that happens pretty far away. Though, that did remind me¡­ my father did do his time serving in the Federation¡¯s coastal defense force in the past. And I guess he recently talked to my mother about his enlistment being reactivated for a special occasion. Could the two be related somehow? I tapped swirly-glasses on the shoulder again. ¡°Hey Paul, what was the date of the launches? Could you check for me?¡± Paul reached into his back pocket and tapped away at his phone. ¡°Ah¡­ it¡¯s supposed to be about five months from now.¡± ¡°Five months?! That sounds awfully fast!¡± My father did mention being posted sometime over the next coming months. I guess it is related then. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. ¡°Well, maybe. I did a little bit of reading during the stream and I guess, like, the prime minister guy used some super old clause that lets him do¡­what was the word they used Emergency? Yeah¡­ I think that was it. Emergency wartime production.¡± ¡°I uh¡­ I¡­ see, I¡­ think I understand.¡± ¡°Ho-ho! A mere plebeian like you wouldn¡¯t understand!¡± He said with a smirk while adjusting his big bulky glasses. I took a step back from him and let out a sigh. Sometimes I wonder how we got to know each other, let alone become friends. But that aside¡­ ¡°Where are all the sites at? We should totally go sometime!¡± ¡°Hmmm¡­ I think there was one near our school¡­ I¡¯d have to check again.¡± He did some more web searching on his phone and let out an aha! ¡°Yup! Just as I thought. There¡¯s a few expected that¡¯ll happen near our school. Well, I say close but¡­ ¡°They¡¯re actually kinda far¡­¡± ¡°How far, exactly?¡± ¡°Uhhh¡­like¡­ over 21 kilometers* away.¡± ¡°21 kilometers! Thats far! Is it on the weekend or¡­?¡± ¡°Well, I can¡¯t find a set date anywhere. I¡¯ll let you now when the date is closer, okay?¡± Before I had the chance to answer, I heard the door from before us slide open with such force it sent a chill down my spine. I didn¡¯t even have to turn to confirm it couldn¡¯t be anyone but¡ª ¡°Oi! Settle down you runts!¡± With a sneer, our teacher made his way to the front of the class and whacked his podium with his signature wooden sword. ¡°Did none of you hear the bell?! Lunch period is over. So that doesn¡¯t mean you can continue being a loud circus! Get back to your seats!¡±
BACK IN THE PRESENT
All the excitement of running is beginning to take its toll. Before long, a nasty shortness of breath wracks my lungs and my legs turn into jello. I slowed down and used the nearby railing as support. What was it that Paul said? 21 kilometers? 21 kilometers! I should have taken a cab or something. There would be no way I could make it in time. I didn¡¯t want to ask my father if he could take me. I wanted it to be a surprise for him, after all. From behind, I could hear heavy panting as Friederika struggles to catch up. I turn to her with an exhausted grin, wiping away a bit of sweat from my brow. ¡°Ha¡­ ha¡­ you know¡­ha¡­ you should¡­. Exercise more often. I heard girls with toned abs are all the rage with boys these days.¡± I utter to Friederika through gasps of air. ¡°You¡­ how does running make you have abs?¡± Friederika asks while she leans on the railing. ¡°I¡¯m not saying that. I¡¯m saying you should exercise in general. Guys don¡¯t like lazy girls, you know?¡± ¡°Why¡­ you¡­ do you want an early death?¡± Friederika pushes up one of her sleeves, gearing up for a punch. She takes a step, but freezes in her tracks. She looks around, and then I notice the rumbling. ¡°Hey¡­ whats that?¡± My gaze shifted over the railing into the distance. ¡°Waaaa¡­..wwooooow!¡± Lost in excitement, I throw myself on the railing. The resulting force makes me wobble a fair bit over it. ¡°H-hey! Be careful! I was kidding about the early death! Hey! Vicky!¡± Startled, Friederika smacks me on the back. The unexpected impact leaves me more winded than before. ¡°Woaaahh!¡± My knees go haywire and my heart thumps even harder in my chest as I almost flip over the railing. I catch a glimpse of the roaring current down below¡ªjust she grabs my shirt in an iron grip. ¡°Ah, jeez!¡± Friederika yanks me back up. My gaze is once again greeted by superficially large vessels taking off from smoke clouds that dominate the landscape. ¡°Look! Friederika!¡± ¡°Yeah¡­ yeah¡­ I know!¡± Beneath us the rumbling gets progressively stronger. Even then, strong gusts of wind push me back on the railing. ¡°Woah¡­ that must be some power.¡± I put one foot down on the ground to keep myself stable and shield my eyes from the wind. ¡°You mean the, uh, shock waves?¡± Friederika holds onto the rail and covers her face just like me. ¡°Yeah, crazy, We¡¯re so far away and the delay still reaches us!¡± She shouts over the howling wind and rumbling. Down below I see traffic slow to an halt. Some were exiting their vehicles to get an eyeful of the Federation ships rocketing into the clear blue sky. Car alarms begin going off and the occasional cries of pets can be heard all about. Boy, maybe the shock wave was a little bit too strong? Elsewhere in the sky, similar dark blips charge into the endless blue sky. ¡°Hey, I wonder how many launch sites there are?¡± Friederika gives me a casual shrug. ¡°Beats me. Why don¡¯t you ask your boyfriend Paul?¡± ¡°He¡¯s NOT my boyfriend.¡± Speaking of which, where was that nerd? I didn¡¯t see him at school either. I wonder if he got a ride to one of the launch pads beforehand? Oh, the nerves of that boy to not have the decency to give me a ride! Friederika must have taken a notice because she leaned into my face. ¡°What¡¯s wrong, Vicky? Worried you got stood up by little Paul?~¡± I push her away with what strength I still have. ¡°I¡¯m telling you. He¡¯s. Not. My. BOYFRIEND.¡± With an angry pout I storm off in the opposite direction. All I can hear is Friederika laughing uncontrollably. ¡°I never took you the violent type until now!¡± she calls after me. Before I can storm back and deliver a knuckle sandwich to Friederika¡¯s pretty little face, I look down at the ground. The rumbling and harsh winds have come to pass. I want to say the peace and quietness has returned, but not quite. There are still disturbed crowds of people on the other side of the bridge. Peering at the freeway below, the traffic is still under a confusion spell brought about by the shock wave made by the Federation ships. When I think about it now, I wonder if it¡¯s a good idea to get a car ride to the launch pad. I would probably get stuck in traffic either way, but, more on the way back home. Speaking of home¡­ ¡°Hey, Friederika, you wanna come over to my place today?¡± ¡°Hmm? Oh, sure, we can watch that one M-drama together. It has a special two episode premise tonight!¡± Friederika pumps her fist energetically. Nothing gets her more excited than her M-dramas. That, and possibly the latest rumors on guys she likes. ¡°Well¡­. Maybe. There¡¯s a documentary I wanna watch when we get home. I want to watch that first. But I have no idea how long it will be.¡± The enthusiasm fades from Friederika¡¯s face faster than I expect. Friederika faces the other way and folds her arms. Now it¡¯s her turn to be pouty. ¡°Hmph! Why don¡¯t you just go find your boyfriend and watch it with him then?¡± I roll my eyes, then lower my head into one of my hands in irritation. I¡¯m not sure what Friederika¡¯s beef is with Paul half the time, or, if it is just genuine tease. It¡¯s hard to tell with Friederika. Maybe she likes him too? ¡°Well¡­ that aside. How are we going to get home?¡± I ask out of curiosity. ¡°Getting a ride home would be difficult right now with all the ruckus going on right now.¡± I peer over my shoulder back at the traffic. Sure enough, it¡¯s still at a standstill. But, it¡¯s beginning to clear up, if only a little bit. ¡°We don¡¯t have much of a choice right now, do we? I guess we¡¯ll just walk home.¡± Friederika replied. ¡°I better not miss it.¡± ¡°I better not miss my M-drama.¡± I strike Friederika with a grin as I get into a running stance. ¡°We¡¯ll make it in time if we jog. My house is not too far from here anyway. You¡¯ll live.¡± Friederika only lets out an agonized groan. ¡°I think you and our P.E coach share something in common.¡± ¡°And what¡¯s that?¡± I said in the most oblivious tone I could muster. ¡°Making me suffer.¡± Chapter 2: Tragedy:Remedy | The Ones That Came Before It was getting rather dark. As we enter the front porch, the buzz of streetlights flicker on from behind us, basking the concrete with an orange hue. The light on the front porch isn¡¯t on. My mother must not be home, either working late or gone to see our father off. I take out my phone and tap its light so I can fumble around my pockets for my keychain. As if reading my thoughts, Friederika speaks up from behind me, ¡°Oh yeah, you didn¡¯t think to call your mom or anything, did you?¡± ¡°Uh¡­ it never crossed my mind. It would¡¯ve probably taken too long for her to come pick us up though¡­ I think we would have been better off just walking home.¡± Friederika gives a sheepish nod. ¡°Right.¡± ¡°Ah, here it is.¡± After enough rummaging, I finally find the key, and slide it into the keyhole to unlock the door. We both walk into the hallway and slip off our shoes. ¡°Sorry for the intrusion!¡± We say in unison at nobody in particular. ¡°Oh, are you hungry by any chance?¡± Friederika asks as she heads for my kitchen. Of course she would head for the kitchen first and foremost. ¡°Kiki¡­ you didn¡¯t just agree to come by for our food, did you? I know you love my mom¡¯s cooking, but¡­¡± Friederika let out the most annoying cackle I¡¯ve ever heard. ¡°Now what makes you say that? When are you going to learn your mom¡¯s cooking so you can make me packed lunches for school?¡± If I didn¡¯t know any better, I would figure I was being taken advantage of. ¡°Right¡­ well, yes, Kiki, you can cook some food for yourself. I think we have some leftover porridge.¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªThe gloopy rice one with soggy looking meat?¡± I hear the opening of our refrigerator and the immediate sound of pillaging. Friederika is like this when mom isn''t around, but turns into a perfect angel when she is. ¡°You know, if my mom heard you say that, she would probably kick you out right away.¡± I said satisfied. ¡°That¡¯s cold. You¡¯re cold.¡± I could almost hear the sarcasm in her voice. ¡°Being cold would be asking you to leave, wouldn''t it? Anyway, could you at least make me some too?¡± I ask, and Friederika complies. In the meantime, I make my way to the living room and plop down on our big white couch and sink into the soothing leather. Bliss flows through my body¡ªit almost feels like I could forget about Friederika¡¯s impoliteness! Now, where is the remote? I lazily swing my arms around on the couch for the remote, but nothing comes up. ¡°Oh, right, it was under the pillow, maybe?¡± I ask out loud to myself. From the direction of the kitchen I hear the sound of some beeps followed by a humming noise, which I¡¯m guessing is Friederika using the microwave. Friederika pokes her head out of the kitchen. ¡°Sorry, did you say something?¡± ¡°Ah, no, I was¡ª¡± Friederika slipped back into the kitchen before I could finish. Sigh. I scratch my head and an idea comes to mind. ¡°Vivi! Wake up!¡± In another room I hear the familiar pattern of something booting up. Not long afterwards a small jet black circular device scurries towards me. Vivi is so swift that it bumps into one of my outstretched feet. ¡°Hey! Vivi! Watch it!¡± Vivi, is, of course, the affectionate name I gave to our family roomba. She¡¯s a floor height house cleaner that was a birthday present to me some years ago. Beside her main function as a cleaner, Vivi is also a nice friend that keeps track of the things you tell it. A far more suitable companion than Friederika can only dream of. ¡°Victoria, hellooo¡± Vivi said in a cutesy feminine voice. I give it a gentle pat on her metallic head. ¡°There there, I bet you were all lonely waiting for your masters to come home, huh? Who''s a cute roomba? Oh yes you aree!¡± I scoop up Vivi with both hands and hug her gently against my chest. ¡°Wow¡­ you¡¯re kinda sad, Vicky.¡±¡ªwas a somber comment from the kitchen. I forget Friederika is still here. And although I can¡¯t see her, I can picture the disdainful look on her face. Ignoring Friederika¡¯s comment, I stare into Vivi¡¯s front sensors. ¡°Hey Vivi, where was the TV remote last seen?¡± I ask the roomba in a calm authoritative tone. Vivi¡¯s sensors blink for a few times as it scrambles to calculate an answer. Or at least I¡¯d like to think it does. Eventually, it speaks in its typical robotic tone. ¡°The TV remote was last seen in the back of the couch.¡± I set Vivi down next to me and plunge my hand into the sofa''s cushions. After some blind digging my hand bumps into something hard. Sure enough, it was the remote I was looking for. As though to celebrate, Vivi makes some excited beeping noises and spins around in circles. ¡°Good girl, Vivi.¡± I give her a congratulatory pat. I hit the power button on the remote. The television flicks on to a channel of what I believe is one of Friederika¡¯s dramas. ¡°Oh? What¡¯s that I hear?¡± Friederika plops down next to me with both of our bowls of rice porridge. ¡°Is this ¡®Carnival Crown¡¯? ¡°Uh¡­ I think so? We already saw this episode, right?¡± Friederika sighs. ¡°Yes, you¡¯re in luck. I think they¡¯re showing some marathon before the new cliffhanger episode?¡± ¡°Oh, goodie! That means we have enough time for the documentary.¡± Friederika sighs and grabs her phone from her skirt''s pocket. She¡¯s clearly not interested in it. ¡°Hey, was your sofa always this hard?¡± I turn to her with a perplexed look. ¡°What do you mean¡ª¡± It hits me. Of course I know what she means. I can hear it just faintly. The very low hum of a roomba¡¯s cry for help. ¡°Kiki, you¡¯re sitting on Vivi.¡± ¡°What? Oh!¡± Friederika carefully stands up so as to not spill her porridge. She looks down and realizes she is, in fact, sitting on top of the roomba, which has now sunk halfway into the cushion. ¡°Oh, you poor thing!¡± I set my bowl on the coffee table in front of us and lifted Vivi onto my lap. ¡°There there, it¡¯s all right now.¡± I coo as I stroke Vivi with reassurance. ¡°Seriously, Vicky,¡± Friederika says,¡± I think you¡¯re starting to lose your marbles. My papa knows some good therapists if you ever need help.¡± ¡°Are you sure he¡¯s not seeing therapists because of you?¡± ¡°You know, this bowl looks like it would make a good hat for that big head of yours.¡± Friederika retorts. ¡°Haha, right.¡± Turning my attention back to the TV, I flip to the channel that the documentary is on. It seems we made it in time for the intro. The sound of thunderous drumming gives away to a beautiful assembly of trumpets. The camera gradually pans out to reveal more and more of a planet¡ªTerra. As it continues to do so, the logo slides into view from behind Terra and both eventually come into full view, UNIVERSAL. ¡°Wow, this intro is cool,¡± Friederika says, surprised. She shifts around in her seat and leans in. She¡¯s right. The song they used gives off such thunderous vibes that it gives me goosebumps. You know it will be a good one when the tune is epic. ¡°Say, Vicky, what exactly is this documentary about? I¡¯m surprised they got all these big name companies in the opening credits¡­¡± ¡°I found out about it from our history professor, he could never stop talking about it. Said it was about the end of the¡­uh¡­ what did he call it?¡±I tilt my head racking my brain for the name of the calendar that was used back then. ¡°After Death? Anno¡­ something.¡± ¡°Wasn¡¯t that stuff like, over 500 years ago? What¡¯s the big deal then?¡± ¡°Well¡­ no, it was like 300 years ago, or something.¡± There¡¯s a smooth transition to starry space following the intro. Numerous marble busts seemingly fall from view one at a time and crumble as they descend further into the background. And as this happens, a deep emotionless voice begins narrating. But at least it is balanced out by some classical music. ¡°¡­If one were to argue that the road of war leads to progress, few would dare disagree. Indeed, if there was ever such a concept of ¡®progress¡¯ for humanity, it would be birthed by war. In times of such, great amounts of bloodshed leads to the crumbling of millions of hopes and dreams¡­¡± As the busts continue to fall and crumble to dust, the background of outer space switches to several sequences of medieval combat. ¡°Wait, I thought this was about the Great War or whatever?¡± Friederika asks, rather puzzled. I shrug in response. ¡°You gotta start the narration somewhere, I suppose.¡± ¡°¡ªIn any age, some individuals wish to make a difference in the world. The ambitions of such people can only be evaluated by those living in the same period, as the values of society change with time as do the interpretations of historians.¡± The sequence changes to various historical leaders. There are some I recognize, while others are more obscure. Some are mere paintings of famous people while later ones are real photos or archival footage. ¡°¡ªThen there are, of course, the few who forge their destiny. Those with such dreams did enough to accomplish great deeds and forever leave their mark into the annals of history.¡± There are several scenes of important looking figures looking onward at parading legions of soldiers in perfection unison, with the sound of marching overlapping with the classical background music still playing. The music, also, has a more somber tone to it from now on. There are more action sequences ¡ª more modern stuff featuring archival footage. These footage depict assault troops storming a position, to a tank on fire, and a sky darkened by a whole fleet of antique looking bomber craft. The statues of dictators being toppled amid a cheering crowd. It then cuts to the panning of a ruinous landscape as far as the eye can see. All that is left was a single wailing child. ¡°How tragic,¡± Friederika says. Not all of them are action sequences, though. There are a few panning stills of assassinations by gunmen in there somewhere. In one particular case, a politician was getting stabbed by a long-bladed weapon. I suppose there¡¯s more than one way that individuals leave their mark on history. ¡°¡ªThe closure of the twenty-second century Anno Domini¡ª¡± ¡°Anno Domini! That¡¯s it! That¡¯s what the era was called¡± I jump in my seat. ¡°Hush!¡± Is Friederika¡¯s response. I won¡¯t deny it¡¯s surprising seeing her invested in this all of a sudden, considering the only thing that will ever hold her interest is M-dramas. ¡°¡ªushered in a period of the concept known as ¡®global peace¡¯. Born not from violence, not from war, but from the willingness of cooperation and mutual trust.¡± There is both authentic footage and reenactments of people partying, and more mundane day to day life stuff. The music begins shifting to something more uplifting. The crumbling marble busts from before no longer appear. ¡°I gotta hand it to them. The choice of music is nice. It fits it well, don¡¯t you think?¡± I ask Friederika, who is staring intently at the television. ¡°Yeah, but they could do with less of the classical stuff. People aren¡¯t interested in that stuff nowadays, you know?¡± ¡°I suppose¡­ But I hear there¡¯s a¡­what did dad say it was? A resurgence of interest¡¯ in the classic genre I think?¡± It¡¯s Friederika¡¯s turn to shrug. ¡°Cashing in on the fad, maybe?¡± The unenthusiastic dialog continues ¡°¡­one could look forward to the future believing that the cycle of destruction was a thing of the past. That it was not an integral part of human nature. The tragic bloodshed over killing one another was not all in vain. ¡°However¡­ much like a certain deterministic pest, the ambitions of man persists throughout the ages.¡± As if on cue, the classic arrangement changes to a darker tone. And maybe I jinxed myself from earlier, but the sequence of marble busts falling from view and crumbling one by one resume. ¡°In the middle of the 26th century Anno Domini, the energy crisis predicted by past generations had come to inevitable fruition. The consumption of resources has long become eclipsed by population growth, which by this point had peaked at one trillion souls on Terra.¡± ¡°One trillion! That¡¯s insane.¡± Friederika and I both cried out in unison. ¡°By the year 2520, Terra was hot¡ªpolitically and climate-wise. Most countries had grown distrustful of one another¡­ alliances are broken off, and military bases historically operated by the Unified States of Amerigo had been dismantled and the troops withdrew home. Thus leaving many of her former allies to fend for themselves.¡± Amerigo? I tilt my head in ponder, trying to remember where I heard that word from¡­ oh, right. I remember it being mentioned in some of our history books. A really big economical superpower that boasted itself the ¡°modern Roma Empire¡±, whatever that means. ¡°As the 20s¡¯ progressed, so did the death toll from famine, civil unrest, and local conflicts between nations.¡± There¡¯s a wide array of footage you would come to expect; heavily armed soldiers pushing back protesters, soldiers running around in trench lines, and jets flying in perfect formation. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°¡ªDuring this period of global upheaval, various politicians took advantage of the chaos occurring in their countries and solidified their particular nations as authoritative dystopias.¡± The follow up footage was reminiscent of the ones we saw before. Endless waves of tanks, trucks carrying huge rockets, and legions of foot soldiers saluting their leaders as they parade by. ¡°History certainly repeats itself, huh?¡± I ask Friederika, although we both already knew the answer. The view shifts to a 3D model of Terra, and the camera pans to the Indian continent, where a few photos of some people are focused on. ¡°Around the year 2537, the prime minister of India, while inspecting a border village hit by an suspected Pakistan artillery attack, was assassinated by a Pakistani sympathizer. Although he was immediately detained, his actions caused an irreversible domino effect through the Middle East. Eventually, the actions of this one individual caused localized conflicts throughout the globe to transition into a world war.¡± ¡°Wow. All of that because of one dude.¡± I remark offhandedly. ¡°Yeah, you could say that again.¡± ¡°¡ªThe Great Resource Wars, as contemporary historians now call it, was anything but. What were justifications for fighting over depleted industrial assets was an excuse to wage total war and rekindle the cycle of destruction. It would wage on for seven and a half years. For a world war in the post nuclear age, it comes as a surprise that it was not until the very end that nuclear arsenals were deployed.¡± One last marble bust falls into the depths of the 3D globe of Terra. Instead of crumbling slowly, it shatters all at once. To our sudden surprise, the musical score gets bombastic as streak lines depicting nuclear missile launches occur all across the globe. It feels like time goes by so much slower as the missiles reach their destinations. Eventually, mushroom clouds cover the surface of most of the planet, except for seemingly Southeast Asia. Even the music trails off after a while, leaving only silence. ¡°¡­The Great War claims the lives of billions of innocent people. Billions more will die in the years to come. ¡°In the summer days of 2544, the surviving international leaders ordered a cease fire. Afterwards, they convene in New Zealand¡ªone of the few places on Terra not devastated by war. It is at a modest hotel in the city of Dunedin where they negotiate for an end to the war.¡± It shows a lot of old dudes in business suits shaking hands with one another while posing for the camera, grinning from ear to ear. ¡°¡ªTheir efforts go on for only a few months. It finally culminates in the Treaty of Balaclava, named after a nearby suburb. But some contemporary historians believe it is one of symbolism. A name that serves to hide their collective crimes against humanity¡ªor what remains of it.¡± Photographs and archival footage of desolate landscapes, vicious tsunamis, and tornado thunderstorms running rampant. Not a living soul in sight. The narrator¡¯s wording is a bit chilling. When I glance over at Friederika she looks just as shaken as I am. ¡°With most of the former superpowers, including the Unified States of Amerigo, wiped out, the emerging superpower over the next century becomes Australia. Together with most of Southeast Asia, she revived the 20th-century defense treaty, SEATO, that served as a political-economical union. Unlike its ancestor organization, it enjoyed far more success addressing crucial economical and environmental issues within the member states. ¡°Years after the Great War ended, SEATO revitalizes a space program on a scale never before seen, under the scope of Operation SLINGSHOT.¡± Footage is shown of giant spaceships being constructed in enormous factories, with such a busy scenery it would be impossible for me to pick out any specific detail. Additional segments show orbital construction of partially completed structures. ¡°Aren¡¯t those¡­?¡± I started, but Friederika told me to shush. ¡°¡ªAmong the crowning achievements of this technological leap forward in the field of interstellar travel was the discovery of the jump drive sometime in the early 2600s¡¯. Utilizing SEATO¡¯s pooled budget, Australia poured an exceptional amount of manpower and capital into SLINGSHOT to see it through. ¡°However, in the words of a leading engineer of the project¡­¡± It shows a rather dated photo of a scrawny man with withered hair, oversized glasses, and a look so stricken you could only wonder if he was a strung-up corpse. A voice-over of who I can assume is the man begins his own narration ¡°with the budget we received¡­ from the governments of SEATO ¡­ it was enough to solve world hunger several times over¡­ however, it was only moderate for our goals¡­ [a brief pause of silence] for SLINGSHOT¡­ it was whopping great, but still not enough.¡± The next set of footage shows ships in trial tests usually done in Terra¡¯s orbit. Some of these were successful, while the majority were tragic disasters. In one case, a spaceship attempted to warp out to space, but the narrator goes on to explain that the gravitational field causes the ship to spontaneously explode during its jump, and its destroyed remains drift in the space it was intended to warp to. ¡°Could you imagine being a test pilot for those back then? You could die at any given moment¡­¡± Friederika muses as she gives Vivi a few kind strokes. The narrator¡¯s dry tone continues ¡°after years of obstruction and continuous protests by the rest of SEATO, it would be another fifty years before the jump drive was deemed ¡®exceptionally perfect¡¯. The fruitions of SLINGSHOT were seen as an enormous success, and SEATO¡¯s skepticism of the project vanished almost overnight.¡± A photo of a large assembly of scientists and engineers is shown. Behind them is some large control room with lots of monitors. There was a date scribbled in the bottom right, 2659. ¡°However, humanity¡¯s reach for the stars was only beginning¡­¡± Segments of the orbital space structures we saw before flash across the screen. ¡°Another core aspect of interstellar travel was the concept of space colonies. Construction of these began in the middle of the 2550s¡¯, but saw an acceleration of development following the completion of the jump drive in 2659. ¡°With the full economical backing of SEATO, the first functioning prototypes were completed by 2669¡­ ¡°In honor of the leading engineer who made revolutionary breakthroughs of this new class of space colonies, they were coined as O¡¯Vertame Cylinders, from which they also deprive the name of their general shapes. Although this was more of a colloquial term for them at first. As time progressed, each O¡¯Vertame Cylinder is referred to as a Side with unique names for suffixes. A group of Side colonies is categorized as a Cluster. The first to be completed was Side Mesopotamia.¡± A distant shot of Terra amid the blanket of outer space. Then the camera pans to the side of a slowly spinning Side colony that gradually takes up more of the screen. ¡°No longer would humanity remain shackled on a tiny rock in the sea of stars¡ª¡± The camera pans out to reveal a large Cluster. ¡°They used some real footage for this. Not anything computer-generated. Fancy stuff, isn¡¯t it?¡± Friederika notes, apparently looking up trivia on her phone. ¡°Right.¡± Next, it shows a fancy looking generator placed behind glass in what looks like some museum. It looks familiar now that I think about it. ¡°Hey, wait a minute. We¡¯ve been there before haven¡¯t we?¡± I ask, facing Friederika. ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°That museum, I mean. We went there for a school field trip, right?¡± Friederika ponders in silence, then gives a nod. ¡°Oh, yeah, you¡¯re right! That¡¯s the original¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªOne interesting byproduct of the jump drive was the discovery of a terraforming device that would, in theory, allow for further colonization of alien worlds and free humanity from increasingly overpopulated Side colonies.¡± ¡°¡ªYeah, that¡¯s what it was,¡± I confirm for Friederika. ¡°Although Operation SLINGSHOT was declared over, a follow-up project was conducted to oversee the funding and development of this device, codenamed Operation MARKET GARDEN. SEATO¡¯s leading scientific communities debated whether or not the device should be used to terraform the wastelands of Terra or the Australian Outback. Even candidate worlds were considered for the process. ¡°It was decided that the vast desolate Outback would be prioritized as a testing ground above all else. The tests would last for a few years before production was approved for mass-produced use¡­¡± The television shows imagery of a reddish planet. Through some flashy aftereffects, it transformed into a more vibrant green. Friederika lets out a surprised yelp that startles me ¡°Wow! Marsol looked like that? Unbelievable!¡± ¡°¡­With no further obstruction, the stage was set for humanity to march onto a better future¡­¡± The focus changes to archival footage of a handsome young man wearing business clothes so casual you wouldn¡¯t think he was a politician or anything. ¡°He looks quite cute, don¡¯t you think? Makes you wish you were born in his time.¡± Friederika commented with a giggle as though she read my mind. ¡°¡ªThe 2672 general elections saw the sensational victory of Horatio Galland. The youngest to assume office at the age of 34¡ª¡± 34! What the heck, he looks like he¡¯s in his early 20s¡¯! ¡°¡ªHe resonated quite well across most demographics, remaining as the only prime minister since then to receive the totality of electoral votes. He became something of a celebrity idol for the everyday man¡­¡± Horatio is seen mixed in with large crowds of cheering people, with not a glimpse of security in site, in some cases he was even drinking and dancing with them. The smile on Horatio¡¯s face was so sincere it¡¯d make any little girl¡¯s heart flutter with excitement. ¡°Horatio¡¯s tenure as prime minister came at a time when the foundations of SEATO came into question regarding the future autonomy of interstellar territories, and even the continued purpose of SEATO itself. Horatio, who was recognized as a space reformist, answered with a strong push to reform SEATO as an all-encompassing Federation with equal rights for all. ¡°Twelve years after his inauguration, in 2684, Horatio ordered a mandatory week-long public referendum in all SEATO member countries. Included in the referendum were selected Cluster colonies. The purpose of the referendum was to decide rather or not to reform SEATO anew as one political entity. The results were overwhelmingly unanimous; aye for reformation.¡± Horatio, who has now visibly aged from his prime ministry and was slightly less handsome as before, is seen proudly holding a newspaper article celebrating the announcement of the new Federation. ¡°Horatio¡¯s strong leadership under the new Federation saw great new strides, including the framework of a constitution and a new calendar. The ancient Gregorian calendar was formally abolished in 2688. In its place, rising from the ashes it was reborn as the Universal calendar as year 1. "Despite his strong character, strong presence, and overwhelming love for democracy, Horatio was said to have been tired of the public political life he had so lavished over the last decade. More importantly, Horatio believed that the longer he was in office, the more he felt that he was trampling on the ideals of historic republicanism. The aging Galland feared that if he were to die while holding office, it would set the precedent for the office of prime minister to be a lifelong appointment¡ªan dictatorship. ¡°Horatio had expressed hopes of holding elections following the creation of the Federation entity. Believing that it was the right thing to maintain the process of republicanism and pass on power peacefully to a new generation of statesmen. With this in mind, the old Galland held elections with compulsory voting in year 1 of the Universal Calendar, or 2688 AD. The old prime minister expected to lose ¡ª but was pleasantly shocked when he won another term as prime minister. ¡°Ultimately, Horatio remained in office for another four years as public approval remained at record highs. Near the end of his second term in 5 UC, Galland decided not to run for a third term as he knew he would reinforce the ideas of dictatorships. This term as the first minister of the Federation totaled two consecutive terms. Altogether, including his tenure as prime minister of SEATO, Horatio was in office for twenty-one cumulative years.¡± ¡°Twenty-one years. That¡¯s a long time, it kind of is a¡­ what did the narrator guy call it? A dictatorship? Or whatever at that point, isn¡¯t it?¡± I ask Friederika rather curiously. ¡°Yeah, it kind of is. But if he held that much influence and he didn¡¯t do anything evil, then it¡¯s not necessarily a bad thing, right?¡± In history class, I don¡¯t think there¡¯s anything bad mentioned about Mr. Galland. I remember one history teacher we had beat into us that if Horatio considered it, we would be living under an imperial dynasty or something by now. But what happens next felt something out of this world. A newsreel shows Mr. Galland stepping out of his car just outside of what looks like the senate building in Australia. In front of him is a crowd that¡¯s as big as ever. There are only a few aides in view around him in the duration of the video. ¡°Before entering the senate building, Mr. Galland stopped to meet and greet an excited crowd¡­¡± I noticed right away something was off. A shady looking figure in the background making his way through the crowd. BANG! It was so sudden I jump in my¡ª BANG! Cries of terror throughout the crowd, as the old Galland is obstructed by the rapid arrival of several armed men. The cameraman is equally shocked as the point of view throws the viewer to the concrete floor. BANG! The panic screams continue as a rush of more men swarm the area in some sort of parameter. There were cries of ¡°he¡¯s dead!¡± and angry screams of ¡°kill him!¡± which I guess is referring to Galland and the assassinator guy. But they were drowned out by the bellow of the man thought dead, ¡°Do not hurt him! Bring him here, to me. I want to see him.¡± A young man is dragged in restraints to a staggered Galland clutching his stomach. The exchange between them is drowned out by the loud ruckus, and Galland gestures for him to be taken away. ¡°He lets him go?!¡± I cry in surprise ¡°He nearly kills him, and he lets him go?!¡± Friederika only shrugs, unable to think of a proper response. ¡°¡ªStanding before the senate, the old and sincere Galland, still gripping onto his bloody shirt, reads out loud his now famous Farewell Address which was also broadcasted live. It stands as a statement of his principles of democracy. The Farewell Address warns of the dangers of autocracy and the growing concerns of representation of citizens throughout the Orion Arm.¡± The rest of the documentary cuts to an enormous statue of Mr. Galland. In the foreground, an opening scrawl of text by Galland narrates it. After what seems like forever, the last excerpt is said by both the unenthusiastic documentary narrator and Horatio simultaneously. ¡°[¡­] A Federation of humanity. For the people, by the people¡ªnot a Federation by Terra, for Terra by Terrans. Lest this grand Federation of Sol be trodden, warped, and torn apart by tyranny¡­ the tyranny that becomes law.¡± And with one last shot of the Galland statue against the setting sun, an unnarrated epilogue depicts the events after the Farewell Address, accompanied only by a somber musical tone. ¡°Galland kept true to his word and did not run for a third term. The assassination attempt, according to his assailer years later¡ªa self-proclaimed ¡®ultra republican¡¯¡ªwas not on ¡®the citizen Galland¡¯, but rather ¡®Galland, the third-termer¡¯. He claimed the attempt was as a warning to future ¡®third-termers¡¯. Conversely, the assaulter was declared delusional and committed to a hospital for the criminally insane, where he died of natural causes in 42 UC. ¡°¡­Galland retired from the public life entirely, to a small island off of New Zealand. There he enjoyed fishing and declined nominations to run for local mayor. He died of heart failure in 20 UC." Afterwards, the documentary ends with a fade to credit roll. ¡°Wow¡­ that was¡­¡± My words trail off into nothingness. Friederika on the other hand claps wholeheartedly. ¡°It wasn¡¯t anything like an M-drama, but it was good!¡± She smiles and snatches the controller from my lap. ¡°Uh, hey!¡ª¡± ¡°Speaking of which¡­¡± She flips the channel back to the one from before. ¡°Agh, whatever, help yourself.¡± I throw my arms up in defeat ¡°by the way, I¡¯m going to make some tea, did you want some?¡± ¡°Oh, yeah sure, I¡¯d appreciate that a lot.¡± I grab both of our plates and make my way to the kitchen to wash them. ¡°By the way, Vick¡­¡± ¡°Hmm?¡± I briefly flip on the power for the kettle and peak out of the doorway at Friederika. Friederika is holding a pamphlet in her hands. ¡°What¡¯s that, Kiki? Oh¡­¡± ¡°¡ªThese are the navy pamphlets they handed us from school, right? You¡¯re not thinking about¡­?¡± Friederika looked a bit worried, and understandably so. I let out a sigh. I push away from the wall I was latching onto to join Friederika in the living room. ¡°¡­There¡¯s a lot of military tradition in my family, you know? Even before my father was recalled for deployment, they held some high expectations of me joining the military after graduation.¡± ¡°Oh, yeah, right.¡± There is a hint of sadness in Friederika¡¯s eyes, but she quickly smiles to mask it. She gets up and pumps a fist to her chest. ¡°Wherever you go, I¡¯ll follow too! Plus, you probably get free meals and education stuff from joining the military, right?¡± She shows me her typical toothy grin. ¡°Er¡­ yeah, I think so¡ªah!¡± Friederika wraps an arm around my shoulder and gets uncomfortably close. ¡°Not to mention I have to keep an eye on you so you don¡¯t do anything reckless, right? Like, hook up with a bad boy or something.¡± ¡°Er¡­ are you sure it¡¯s not the other way around?¡± We both give each other smug looks then laugh the rest of the night away. The times were changing, but the two of us were only living in the moment. Chapter 3: ~Military Boots Reminiscence~ | And Life Goes On And so, life went on. The rest of primary school went by me before I even knew it. The rush of the moment watching the infant Metropolitan naval force came to pass. In time we¡¯ve come to learn that the campaign my father partook in was a ruinous disaster for the Federation. When he returned, briefly, for a year or two, something about him was different¡ªand even my mother picked up on it. He got skinnier to the alarm of mom. He let his goatee grow out, his hair seemed to gray faster than before. And¡­ he became reclusive. Whenever people asked him about the ill-fated maiden expedition, his eyes would get narrow, often averting gazes; the somber attempt to change the subject. He made attempts at drinking more but that¡¯s where mom put her foot down. He felt alienated to us; and at the same time, it felt like he was trying to be overprotective of me. He made attempts to get more involved in my life, something that invoked criticism from my mom; ¡°you¡¯re becoming a bloody helicopter parent, you know kids don¡¯t appreciate that¡± she would object with things like that. But even still, in the few years after he retired from the military, my father kept giving me chances to tag along with him whenever I was on school break; rather that be fishing, gaming, or simply camping out in the rural wilderness of say, Indonesia. But dad would say only if I wanted to say since mom otherwise would nag him for¡®bothering me too much.¡¯ But honestly, I enjoyed it. I see Friederika pretty much any other day. Plus, if I have to sleepover at her house one more time and hear an endless chorus of snoring Trachenbergs I think I would lose my sanity quicker. I needed the escape just as much as my father did. In the last summer break before primary school ended, the two of us invited the senior Trachenberg and Friederika out on a camp out to an area in south Indo-China. The place we decided on for our trip is of the few regions of continental Asia that, according to my father, hadn¡¯t been reduced to scarred reminders of the Great Resource Wars. And boy, did the two of us quickly regret the decision to bring them along. In the first few days of our camping trip, Friederika and I slept together in the same tent, but it was silently agreed to have both Trachenbergs and Schwarzenbergers contained to their own. I wounded up having mine to myself since I wasn¡¯t comfortable sleeping with dad. In the end, though, Friederika would sometimes sleepwalk to my tent and collapse on top of my cot. The Trachenberg bloodline works in mysterious ways. On one particular day, the old man and I decided to go out hunting¡ªmore of an impromptu thing than anything though my father did pack with us some a few rifles and ammo ¡®just in case I get the itch¡¯. One thing about my dad did not change; he loved to hunt. It was his one and only passion, but not so much as mom¡¯s. But back home in Australia dad always expressed facing difficulty dabbling in his hobby whenever he wanted to. Especially true when he was younger¡ªbefore he enlisted in SEATO and met mom. When dad was around my age or older, wildlife was unsustainable for a long time and it was only a few generations ago or so that most animal habitats were back to pre-Horatio levels of growth. Even now the Indo-China locals seem to be fussy about their recreational hunting laws here since their wildlife suffered a great deal and possibly dozens of species went extinct as a result. There was a bit of a fuss at first as dad had to get hunting permits, but at the end of the day, he told me not to sweat the small details¡ªwe were good to go. Neither Trachenberg had the stomach to join us, so we left them at camp where they admired the breathtaking scenery¡ªa wilderness that, despite its animal residents, was left nearly untouched by nuclear infernos that had been unleashed further inland. They say even with the success of terraforming alien worlds, scarred wastelands proved to be even more difficult. It¡¯s only now that the feeble fruits of labor across the vast Eurasian continent and Amerigo, whose north continent suffered the most. With more recent events recorded in our history books, it could be several more centuries before the rest of Terra regains pre-Horatio levels of habitation. We eventually wound up in a lightly wooded area, the tall grass that we slowly trudge through is almost up at chest height. But it doesn¡¯t block my vision too much, and it¡¯s also thanks in part to the bright orange vests we wear where it¡¯s easy to keep track of one another in case we get lost. This is also just in case either Trachenberg decides to join us and doesn¡¯t accidentally nail us in the back lethally. ¡°Come to think of it¡ª¡± Father¡¯s deep voice breaks the silence, ¡°this is the first time I¡¯ve ever actually taken you hunting like this, isn¡¯t it?¡± He¡¯s in front of us, no less than a few yards away. ¡°Your gun isn¡¯t too heavy for you, is it?¡± ¡°Mm¡­ I think it weighs fine, it¡¯s easy to pull up when I need to. I think it weighs less than throwing Kiki around.¡± I reply. This is the first time I¡¯ve more or less held a gun on my own; usually, I would just trail dad and confirm any downed game for him with binoculars. ¡°I think your mum would kill me if she knew I was letting you shoot guns like this.¡± He says trudging slowly through the blades of grass. ¡°She never liked guns¡ªor my collection for that matter. ¡­ Did I ever tell you the time when she got engaged, she told me it was either her or¡ª¡± ¡°Dad, there¡¯s a deer in front of us. You see it?¡± I cut him off, frankly not too enthusiastic about hearing dad¡¯s poorly constructed memories. I¡¯m too trained on the polka-dotted animal that was maybe about 20 meters away from us, but it¡¯s hard to say. Dad stops in his tracks without another word. He hasn¡¯t turned back once to face me and always keeps forward. ¡°Good eye. I was wondering when you would notice it.¡± He says. A smooth recovery, but he was clearly about to head deep into memory lane and not care for much else. If Friederika was out here with us she¡¯d no doubt say her thoughts about her¡ªand thankfully she isn¡¯t. I imagine she¡¯d cause an accident if dad even dared think about giving her a gun to use. Dad brandishes his gun, and after a few seconds of anticipating a deafening sound¡ªhe lowers it midway. ¡°You know¡­ I think it would be better to shoot.¡± He says, not once turning back to address me. ¡°You know how to shoot, right?¡± ¡°Er¡­m¡­ I think¡­ so.¡± I kneel, keeping a mental note of where I saw the deer because of the tall-grass obstructing view. I raise my gun and push it against my shoulder, and get ready to take aim¡ª ¡°You remembered to take off the safety?¡± ¡°Yeah, I think so.¡± I lie through my teeth, quietly fixing my error. ¡°You remembered to feed cartridges into the loading chamber and¡­¡± He dragged this on for a few more minutes. After everything is finally said and done, I firmly steady the rifle against my shoulder and rest my cheek on the stock, looking down the iron sights. Taking deep breaths, I gently proceed to squeeze the trigger¡ª The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°A little to the right,¡± Dad points off to the side, ¡°just a little more. It moved after we were making adjustments.¡± I¡¯m not sure adjustments is the right word here, but I don¡¯t complain about it. I slowly adjust my aim again, and¡­ A flat CRACK ¡ªfollowed by another flat CRACK. Startled birds take for the clear blue sky afterward.
Our way back is more of the usual silence. We confirmed the kill and proceeded to tie it up so we could bring it with us. Dad has to do it though, since it¡¯s too heavy, like several Friederikas¡¯ worths. This time I lead the way, and I glance back at dad. He looks reasonably happy¡ªand it¡¯s rather rare to see him not frowning. ¡°By the way,¡± dad suddenly asks, and I resume looking ahead to make sure we¡¯re going in the right direction, ¡°how was it?¡± ¡°How was what?¡± ¡°Taking the life of another living thing.¡± He answers dryly. I happen to be drinking from my canteen at the moment and do a spit take. ¡°Hey! That¡¯s good water¡± He says slightly irritated. ¡°Well¡­I mean, don¡¯t ask¡­er¡­ weird questions like that!¡± I sputter as I put the lid back on. I guess it¡¯d be more reasonable to say it was good water¡ªbut now it¡¯s quenched the hungry soil. ¡°I think¡­ I felt a little accomplished¡ªyou looked happy afterward with the result, so I figured I made you proud.¡± Dad doesn¡¯t say anything in response for a while, but it¡¯s not before long that he does. ¡°You know¡­ if you do plan on joining the military, you can expect a lot more of doing that.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°Taking another person¡¯s life.¡± This has suddenly gotten a bit too dark. Is that what he was hoping to get to after all this was said and done? Frankly, it leaves me so bewildered that I don¡¯t even know what to say in response. ¡°Sorry¡ªthat was a bit too grown-up for you. I¡­ I¡¯m¡­ sorry.¡± He sounds awfully genuine about it, but I don¡¯t want to look behind and see him sulking now. ¡°Victoria¡­¡± I don¡¯t hear his boots crunching on the grass anymore, and I stop to turn around and face him at last. His ever-aging tired eyes gaze at the ground before me. ¡°Are you still interested in joining¡­ the Federation¡¯s navy? You know I can secure you a position in SEA¡ª¡± ¡°Of course I am. You always said our family¡¯s tradition was in the military. Gramps was enlisted, great gramps was enlisted, great-great gram¡ª¡± ¡°Victoria, that¡¯s our family tradition. Is that what you truly want?¡± He cuts me off before I can say any more, ¡°space¡­ space is no laughing matter¡ª war is no laughing matter. If something happens to you, I can¡¯t just¡­¡± He stops, he looks up with sorrowful eyes into mine, ¡°¡­ I can¡¯t¡ªI won¡¯t be there to help you out. I won¡¯t be mad at you if you don¡¯t¡­ want to pursue that career. It¡¯s your choice; I didn¡¯t have a choice. My father¡ªyour granddad,¡ªand his father insisted I enlist in SEATO. I don¡¯t¡­ want to have you make you do something you don¡¯t want to. If your mom was here¡­¡± ¡°I think she¡¯d be upset you¡¯re ruining the moment,¡± I reply honestly. ¡°Do you think I¡¯m ruining the moment, Victoria?¡± He says, a bit hurt. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so,¡± I again reply honestly. ¡°You know I¡¯ll¡­ support whatever it is you do. It might hurt me, but¡­¡± ¡°Pops¡­ let¡¯s talk about this some other time, OK?¡± I gesture for us to continue walking to camp. He tries to say something but ultimately agrees in silence. Thus, we make our way back without another word.
When we came back to camp both Trachenbergs were practically dying from starvation. Like, father, like daughter I suppose. They were rather delighted when they saw us arrive, but shared less enthusiasm with the realization that we still needed to clean the kill and properly cook it. My old man was more than happy to do all of it, so in the meantime, we were free to do other things, which usually involved stargazing and being homesick. ¡°By the way, Vicky, did you have fun with your papa?¡± Friederika asks as the two of us lay in the grass gazing at the moonlit sky, as the pale blue light clashes with the bright campfire¡¯s orange glow. ¡°Yeah¡­ I did. It was fun, I kinda wish you were there.¡± ¡°Only kinda?¡± Friederika asks as she rolls next to me directly into my face. Talk about personal space. ¡°Yeah, who knows what you might do with a rifle¡ªyou might mistake me for a bright deer and shoot me,¡± I say as Friederika can¡¯t help but scoff. ¡°Hey! That kinda hurts,¡± She gives me a friendly pinch, ¡°you now I¡¯m good at shooting in those gun games at the arcade!¡± She pouts, ¡°probably one of the best in Canberra!¡± ¡°You know, I wanna say that¡¯s not a high bar, but¡­¡± I want to say more, but the friendly pinch hurts more the longer she is irritated. ¡°Oh shut it already!¡± Friederika whines as she finally let¡¯s go. ¡°I wanted to shoot some animals too! I¡¯m a bit bummed you didn¡¯t invite me.¡± ¡°I know, I¡¯m sorry, but it is you who looked squeamish when my dad presented a gun to you. Holding and firing a gun is a lot different than those intense gun arcade machines, you know.¡± ¡°You think so? I wouldn¡¯t know since you didn¡¯t invite me!¡± She says with one last pouting face. ¡°Yeah yeah, I heard you the first time around¡­¡± Bringing up all this gun talk reminds me of the talk about killing with my dad earlier, and that sorta dampens the mood a bit. Friederika takes notice and lays next to me again. ¡°Is something bothering you, Vicky?¡± She asks a bit worried, ¡°did something happen between you and your papa after all?¡± ¡°Yeah¡­ well, er¡­ no¡­ we just kinda¡­¡± man, I was in such high spirits that thinking about it again is putting me in a bad mood, ¡°Kiki¡­ were you still thinking about enlisting in the academy with me?¡± A slight beat around the bush. ¡°Huh? Yeah, I mean¡­ of course, I wasn¡¯t joking when I said I have to keep an eye on ya.¡± She tilts her head, ¡°why? What¡¯s up?¡± I don¡¯t feel like I should confront her about it. Friederika is¡­ well, she¡¯s Friederika. I don¡¯t want to make her sad or anything. I think it¡¯s best if we just confront that kind of stuff when the time comes. There¡¯s no point in discussing it and ruining the mood of the trip so far. ¡°No, it¡¯s nothing. Let¡¯s get back to the camp and eat. I¡¯m starving.¡± I say getting back up, Friederika gives me an odd look, but shrugs and joins me in walking back to our camp.
The next few days went by without anything interesting happening. Although I did let Friederika fire off my lever-action gun, and she wasn¡¯t lying ¡ª she is good with shooting after all, even better than I am, in fact. But that¡¯s just how it is. I don¡¯t know whether or not I should be impressed or worried that a goofball like her can handle a gun so easily. But that said, with the start of the new academic year less than a few weeks away, it meant we had to break down camp and head home in preparation for the life that lies ahead for Friederika and I at the Canberra Naval Institute. Chapter 4: ~Military Boots Reminiscence~ | The Morning to a New Tomorrow
A FEW WEEKS LATER, SOMETIME IN FEBRUARY 215 UC
I wanted to sleep in a little longer¡­ Mom had barged into my room and tried to shake me awake. Rather violently¡­ I should say. When that didn¡¯t work, she ripped the blanket off me. ¡°Vicky! Vick! Wake up ! Jeez¡­ you¡¯re developing bad habits from pops.¡± She says scornfully as she tiptoes around the bombastic mess that is my ¡®room¡¯ to pry the body-sized pillow from me, but my greater strength prevails in the end. Not willing to be defeated that early, mom stomps her way over to the curtains and rips them open, showering my room with a light that bleeds through my eyelids. ¡°Vick! Get up! You¡¯re going to be late for the entrance ceremony!¡± She says¡ªsays, but in reality, it¡¯s more like an angry growl. It¡¯d be an understatement to say it was aggressive. She tries again to grab the nice and comfy pillow away from me, and after a great struggle she pulls it away from me¡ªbut in the process causes me to fall face-first into the carpet. I hear the jingle tune of a certain semi-sentient floor appliance booting up from underneath my bed. And the first thing I see and hear is a jet-black rumba rushing forward to slam right onto my upside-down forehead. ¡°Gaahhh!¡± I cry out as I collapse fully onto my back. Vivi lets out a robotic cry ¡ªdo robots even feel pain?¡ª as it scurries around me. ¡°Vicky! Vicky! Wake up! Vicky!!!¡± The circular little device echos the growls of mom in a fashion that¡¯s a lot more feminine and cutesy, albeit with robotic pronunciation. Vivi¡¯s front sensors spin around in perfect tandem with it¡¯s maneuvering. ¡°Alright¡­ alright! I¡¯m out of bed! I¡¯m up!¡± I moan as I get to my feet, ¡°you win! I surrender! Now get out of my room so I can change.¡± Mom only lets out a deep exhale, and leaves me alone with Vivi. ¡°Okay¡­ but if you so much as jump in bed again¡­¡± She shoots me one intimidating glare, and closes the door behind her. And with her gone¡­ I jump straight back into bed. Maybe the pomf it made was a bit too loud. Of course, mom¡¯s motherly senses immediately slams the door open again. ¡°What did I SAY?!¡± Vivi and I scream in human and robotic terror.
It finally took some time, but I finally got out of bed¡ª for real this time, under unnerving supervision¡ªand proceed to put on the military uniform they gave us a few days ago in-class orientation. This is actually the first time I decided to wear it, though. I wanted to save it for the occasion. Dad spent a lot of time ironing it out for this moment. Maybe a bit too long, mom would get worried he was going to burn it too much if he didn¡¯t stop¡ª and he didn¡¯t, so she had to force him to stop. Mom waited outside my room to give me some privacy, and also eavesdrop in case she heard me try and sleep again¡ªand there was no way I was going to attempt that again. It¡¯s a nice fit, if a little tight around the chest area¡ªwhich is probably because of the tie or belt. But before I can consider messing with those more, the door opens and I see mom in the background. ¡°Well? What do you think?¡± I turn around to face her, and just out of the doorway I also see the old man peaking in briefly before disappearing. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s¡­¡± Mom stammers, she takes a few steps towards me and pats me on the shoulders. Her lower lip is slightly quivering. ¡°¡­You look so bloody good in it, love¡­ it makes me feel nostalgic of pops.¡± She clears her throat and her nose gets a bit rosy. ¡°It reminds me of the time when he offered me a dance in uniform, and then afterward¡ª¡± Uh oh, she¡¯s heading down memory lane of gross romantic stuff with dad. I guess they have a knack for that thing, the two of them. ¡°Mum, um¡­ I gotta go see if Kiki came by yet. We told each other we¡¯ll meet over at my place this morning.¡± She flutters her eyes and nods, wiping away some premature tears and stepping out of the way so I can leave.
Kiki had just made her way to my front porch and hardly got the chance to knock before I opened the door on her. ¡°Oh, good morning Vicky! You look lovely.¡± She says with a beaming smile. ¡°Likewise,¡± I eye her from head to toe, ¡°you know, you don¡¯t look half bad wearing the uniform yourself. In fact, I think it compliments your hair color quite well! If I were a guy, I¡¯d pick you up and give you a kiss!¡± Friederika leans forward and puckers her lips, eyes shut tight. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t hurt to give me a little kiss right here!~ Chuuuu~¡± I resist the urge to sucker punch her, but I think my mom would get mad if I get Friederika¡¯s uniform bloodied up. So instead, I just jab an index finger into her pursed lips and wiggle it around her tongue. This emits an amusing Friederika sound from the dark-haired girl. Gross, wet, and slimy¡ªbut worth it. ¡°What the bloody hell was that for?!¡± Friederika stammers with a warm blush, spit-taking with her tongue out. ¡°Sorry I just had to tease you¡ªwould you rather I actually kiss you?¡± Before Friederika can reply, I hear footsteps from behind us to find my parents curiously seeing what the commotion was. ¡°Ah! If it isn¡¯t the little Trachenberg!¡± Mom cooes as she gives Friederika a warm embrace¡ªpoor Friederika looks embarrassed. ¡°I take it your parents are outside?¡± She asks while messing with Friederika¡¯s lips. Poor Friederika, I know your pain all too. Friederika can only afford to give a weak nod in between mod tormenting her with shaking her violently. Man, and I thought I was terrible to Friederika. ¡°G¡¯day, Sophie! G¡¯day, Vincent!¡± Mr. Trachenberg says cheerfully, oblivious to the trauma his daughter had just gone through. But rather or not he takes notice of it, it¡¯s enough for my mom to let go of a ghastly Friederika and give a proper exchange of greetings with the two Trachenberg parents. From the doorway, my old man casually waves to the Trachenberg guests. ¡°It¡¯s so nice to see you two again! I love when your daughter comes to drop by to visit us; it makes me happy knowing Victoria and your Kiki get along so well.¡± I don¡¯t know if getting along well is anywhere NEAR close to what I would describe our relationship, but¡­ parental ignorance is a blissful thing for better or worst. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. ¡°I could very well say the same, Sophie¡ªour poor little girl is always sulky when she gets and sometimes cries when she doesn¡¯t get to see Victoria.¡± Miss Trachenberg says, ¡°I suppose it¡¯s a miracle they managed to befriend each other, and even so far as to enlist with her¡­¡± ¡°You get lonely and cry without me, huh?¡± I sneer at Friederika, hooking my index fingers on either inside of her mouth and pulling¡ªbut only gently. ¡°Waaah, dwon¡¯t bwully me, they¡¯we twlling lwies!¡± Is the only thing I can make out from Friederika¡¯s stretched mouth. Yeah, sure they are. ¡°By the way, have you finished packing for Victoria yet? We already have Friederika¡¯s belongings packed in the trunk¡ªwe¡¯re ready to leave whenever you are.¡± Mister Trachenberg says while pointing behind at his teal-colored car. ¡°Ah!¡± He then exclaims in surprise, looking past us at the doorway. My father was on the steps, with wheeled pieces of baggage in tow. He had changed from his pajamas into his old tan-colored SEATO uniform¡ªit¡¯s a rare sight to see. He makes his way past me without saying a word and both hands preoccupied with the wheeled baggage. ¡°Rear admiral Happ-Schwarzenberger!¡± Mister Trachenberg addresses stiffly, he raises his right hand to the side of his cap, where the tips of his fingers barely touch the cap¡¯s brim. ¡°You don¡¯t have to call me that anymore, I¡¯m retired,¡± Father grumbles. He peers into the back window of the trunk and looks back at mister Trachenberg. ¡°You want me to put it in the back, or?¡± He asks the two Trachenbergs. ¡°Well, Lion of SEATO, I think there should enough room in the backseats.¡± Mister Trachenberg says with a straight-face. ¡°That¡¯s enough, commodore, you don¡¯t have to call me that either,¡± Father growls, ¡°just call me Vincent¡­ anyway, I¡¯ll try squeezing her things in the back.¡± ¡°Oh Victoria! I almost forgot!¡± Mom runs back into the house and returns with a robotically squealing Vivi pressed against her chest. ¡°You¡¯re going to take her, aren¡¯t you?¡± Mom asks, holding the roomba out to me; Vivi¡¯s front sensors give me such an adorable look that if I tried imagining it hard enough, it would probably give me pup eyes. ¡°Mum¡­ you know I can¡¯t do that, they probably won¡¯t allow things like¡­ er¡­ Vivi.¡± I say a little apologetically, ¡°there¡¯s no telling if they might demand me to send her back.¡± Vivi makes a tune so depressing that it makes my heart sink a little. ¡°Yeah¡­I suppose you¡¯re right,¡± Mom¡¯s eyes lower a bit, somewhat taken back, ¡°¡ªwell I was hoping you would say no, anyway! Vivi would be handy around the house, won¡¯t you Vivi?¡± She asks like a deranged person to the roomba, who only offers a tune weaker than before, and I felt it once again tug a little at my heartstrings. I offer to take Vivi from her for one last time. Vivi¡¯s lightweight is easy to handle, and I press her against my chest as tight as I can, much to the delight of Vivi. ¡°I¡¯ll be back for you one day, Vivi¡ªso be good for mum in the meantime, won¡¯t you?¡± I say with a heavy lump in my throat, and Vivi¡¯s sensors blink for a few seconds, but finally gives acknowledgments with a somewhat more cheerful tune. ¡°You¡¯re a good girl, Vivi,¡± I utter as I hand her back to mom who then returns it to the household, and returns after locking the front door. With everything said and gone, we helped out our dads with putting baggage away and proceeded for our fateful destination; the Canberra Defense Institute.
The car ride under the canopy of trees is a quiet one. But soon enough the green scenery gives away to a fiery red compound that covers an enormous acre of land which is just as large as the fleet of parked cars near its vicinity. Friederika and I¡¯s pops grumble about the time wasted needed to find a spot and the trek that to the academy¡¯s entrance. After what feels like forever we finally find a spot that wasn¡¯t too far of a walk, and proceed to get our baggage out in earnest where we then join the flow of people walking to the front gates of the Institution. It also isn¡¯t long before bands of important-looking military blokes take notice of my father and converge around him like some kind of pop-star decades past his prime. He looks tired of the attention but gestures for us to continue on as he catches up with his old friends.
The five of us make our way into a closed-roof stadium just off to the side of the main compound of buildings, where it¡¯s rather nice and cool despite the summer heat. Inside is a vast open field with an assortment of chairs in the middle and places for the parents and guests to stay and watch. Friederika and I depart from our parents, who wave us off as they head for their seats. ¡°Vicky¡­ I know you¡¯re kinda tense about this, but you¡¯re squeezing my hand too hard.¡± Friederika says offhandedly after they leave. I wasn¡¯t even aware I was clasping her hand in the first place, and gradually let go. ¡°Right¡­ sorry, I guess I kind of am, huh? Also, youre hand is awfully sweaty.¡± I remark, and Friederika pouts looking the other way. ¡°It¡¯s not like I can help it! It¡¯s too hot outside and these uniforms are stuffy!¡± Friederika whines as she tugs at her white collar. With her other hand, she fans her day in a dramatic matter. Some of our nearby mates look at us with curious brows, and I can¡¯t resist but nudge Friederika between the ribs, ¡°that¡¯s no way for a fine future officer to behave, don¡¯t you think? They say first impressions are important¡­¡± ¡°¡ªOh, quiet you!¡± She quips, and points to the podium on top of the stage, ¡°seems like the ceremony is starting now.¡± A middle-aged man in fancy military attire exchanges seldom salutes with some other middle-aged blokes, who presents himself as Commodore Ramsay DeRyck. ¡°Ladies and gentlemen¡­ thank you for coming out to visit our humble institution despite the intense Aussie heat. We hope the lodgings are to suitable to your liking,¡± he says in a clear and authoritative voice, yet calm and soothing, ¡°to both the cadet initiatives and junior cadets¡ªthe staff here at Canberra Academy look forward to another wonderful academic year and are thrilled to have an excellent crop of students to teach and drill. And to the senior cadet officers hanging on¡ªwe hope to produce many wonderful alumni who will, no doubt, after this coming December, will go on to achieve phenomenal accomplishments to make us proud¡­¡± DeRyck¡¯s speech goes on about further remarks about what to expect at life in the academy and describes the hard, but enjoyable and rewarding experience we can expect. DeRyck then introduces some of the instructors and teachers, followed by a welcoming address by some of the senior cadets and guest alumni. A military band then plays for us, signifying the end of the ceremony, and DeRyck delivers his closing statements amid a standing ovation. With that everyone gets up to leave the stadium. ¡°That was nice, wasn¡¯t it?¡± Friederika says wiping away a single tear. We¡¯re leaving to see our parents off since we stay behind to spend life on-campus. It¡¯s a bit hectic to find them since there are so many people scrambling about. ¡°You¡¯re not crying, are you? I never took you for being emotional.¡± I ask her as we link up with our parents at last. ¡°You¡¯re the one to talk¡ªwho was it exactly that got overly emotional over leaving a little roomba behind? Here, I¡¯ll give you hint, she¡¯s dumb, blonde, and has big¡ª¡± I jab Friederika between the ribs again, and she lets out a whine in typical Friederika fashion. ¡°What the bloody hell was that for?¡± ¡°You could probably ask that for a lot of things,¡± I say rather dryly.
Our parents were leading the way to the gate where our father was. My dad, waiting along with some of his friends waves them off when he takes notice of our group. ¡°Over already? Sorry I missed it, Vic¡­ I had an irritatingly bloody time playing catchup and they wouldn¡¯t let me go for even one second.¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine, dad.¡± He looks uncomfortable, averting eyes with me. I might think it¡¯s fine, but he seems somewhat upset by the fact that he missed the ceremony. ¡°Just the fact that you came with us means a lot to me, anyway.¡± ¡°Well¡­ as long as you¡¯re not mad at your old man¡­¡± Dad says trying to hold back tears. It¡¯s not long after that we all went around to give each other deep embraces and comforting words. Friederika is the first to break down crying, and it causes a ripple in the rest of us to cry¡ªwell, aside from me and my mom. ¡°Vic, you better make sure you keep your room clean¡ªmaybe I should¡¯ve brought Vivi after all¡­¡± My mom says in her typical lecturing at first, with a hint of worry. ¡°It¡¯s fine, mum¡ªI¡¯ll manage.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t forget to brush your teeth and keep a healthy diet.¡± ¡°Thanks, mum, I¡¯ll do what I can,¡± I say, struggling to get the words out. ¡°Don¡¯t forget to wash and keep me¡­¡± She loses the ¡®don¡¯t cry¡¯ contest first, and I bury my face into her chest for reconciliation. With our goodbyes out of the way, we finally see our parents off for good. Friederika and I tearfully wave frantically them off as their car¡ªalong with the endless motorcade departing the grounds of the academy. Friederika is trying without avail to stop the tears from flowing with the heel of her palms. ¡°I¡¯m sure we can visit them every so often,¡± I say with reassure to both myself and Friederika, ¡°it¡¯s not like this will be the last time we¡¯ll ever see them.¡± Friederika nods in agreement, and we both turn around to confront our new future¡ªour morning to a new tomorrow. Chapter 5: ~Military Boots Reminiscence~ | Academic Life The first two years of our academic life came and went by rather dryly. The first year and much of the second year was spent with general academics not necessarily related to military topics, and that meant things like science, history of the world, and so on. Some of it we knew already from that documentary we watched years ago; others was new material to us. Most of our curriculum in the first year was just an endless dump of knowledge that continued on from primary school. I would say it wasn¡¯t all that much different from primary school other than the fact that we had only one day off of the week, and we were expected to get out of bed hours before the usual time I would give up at¡ªand that was hard on me and Friederika. Friederika especially got into a lot of disciplinary trouble, and, much like the painful memories of headmistresses in primary school I stuck my neck out for her. There were a few months where I risked getting expelled and I guess there was sometimes behind-the-scenes politics between my dad and the school directors to, erm¡­ overlook some of the incidents. Regardless, though, that did make me lag behind in our ranks. Though interestingly Friederika still worked hard to gain hers quicker by merit. I have to hand it to her, she does have a good head on her shoulders, somehow. Meanwhile, I never managed to be promoted past the first few cadet ranks, but it doesn¡¯t really matter too much at the end of the day. Regarding the history of humanity, it was more geared about Federation efforts to colonize the Orion Arm¡ªwhat is now referred to as the New-Age Manifest Destiny.Under the guidance of Horatio he staunchly believed that in order to ¡®avoid another catastrophe on a extinction-level scale, it is humanity¡¯s divine right to preserve what remains of our sacred homeland, and settle and spread out throughout the known galaxy to ensure that Terra is no longer our one and only egg basket¡¯. I still remember it being mentioned that before the Great War ravaged Terra, our beloved planet was beyond the means of overpopulation¡ªhovering over a trillion or so. A century before Horatio was born, that number was estimated to be around seven hundred billion. Even then, that gradually fell to one hundred billion by the time Horatio took office and transformed SEATO into the Federation. But they say humanity will never be capable of reaching pre-war population levels during and after his time. In textbooks and more recent documentaries¡ªthe one Friederika and I watched years ago was at the very least produced at the end of the first century¡ªearly modern censuses lead us to believe that there are at least four hundred billion lives that inhabit life in our part of the Orion Arm, those are usually categorized as followed:
The Metropolitan region, including Terra and her planetary and Side colonies Ten percent
The vast Ruthenia region, including Greater, Central, and Lower Ruthenia Forty percent
The equally great Frankish Domains Thirty percent
Other minor colonial regions, combined Twenty percent
Other than population we learned a great deal about modern attempts at exploring further into the Orion Arm, which were organized between 160-170 under Project SONG and Project SONG-II. These were attempts at sending both manned and unmanned expeditions which turned out to be futile¡ªthe differences in light-years between our furthest colonized region and the rest of the Milky Way proved to be too much. In the end both were shelved, and the ambitious followup project, Project MIRACLE¡ªto send colony ships with deep-sleep passengers light-years away in the vain hope they can extend the reach of the Federation was quietly shelved and it¡¯s resources put elsewhere. We learned the inner workings of government, along with a slew of other boring stuff. The only part that stood out to me the most was how there seemed to be a growing concern of how representation should be done for our interstellar senate, but it leaves me with such head scratching that I don¡¯t worry about it too much. Politics is beyond me sometimes. Beside our normal courses we also had the odd day where we had basic physical education and sometimes ones more elaborate like learning to drill and doing saluting stuff. I excelled at those which I like to think where my saving throw for staying at the institution rather than the meddling done by my father. Unfortunately for Friederika, her poor physique made her suffer. And some of the instructors were sadistic enough to have her run laps with some gear on as punishment. But the two of us persevered for each other¡¯s sake: there was no way in bloody hell we were going to leave the other behind. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. At the end of the first year we had a general inspection done by Commodore DeRyck on behalf of the Admiralty, which was more or less us standing around in rank and file and getting personally reviewed by him and some of his old blokes. It was incredibly stressful, and at one point Friederika almost fainted when it was her turn. With that our first year came to a close, and our summer break was over before we even knew it. Things began to shift gears. Our sophomore cadet year had more of a mixed curriculum which included more technical courses¡ªwhich included how to operate a ship¡¯s communication systems or operating a radar. It was also in our sophomore year that we began getting sprinkles of military lessons here and there. We were gradually introduced to the Academy¡¯s simulation systems¡ªmock bridges that they claim are almost a near replica of the ones found on actual Metropolitan spaceships. They were made so that you could get the feel that you were actually there directing a battle firsthand and made it feel so much more personal. They were fun and exciting¡ªbut I sucked at them. The junior and senior cadet officers were far too good and I could never win no matter how hard I try. The only one I could maybe reliably beat was probably Friederika on a good day¡ªbut when I lost it made me bitter, and I would end up ghosting her for a couple days at a time, but I¡¯d always get over it eventually. It was also through simulation games that I first met the beautiful redheaded cadet named Alexandra Dolz¡ªsome foreigner from the Ruthenia colonies that I¡¯m surprised I never knew of sooner. She was so proficient at the simulation games that I always sought her out to practice against. Unlike most of our other sophomore or even junior year cadets she played fair¡ªshe didn¡¯t use gamey tactics that were frowned upon by some junior cadets and even outright banned by senior cadets altogether. These gamey tactics usually included the concept of ¡®spawn-camping¡¯ your enemies reinforcements warping in and was such a game breaker that it shocked me that complaints of it fell on the developer¡¯s deaf ears. Simulations and Alexandra aside, it was also this year that they started instructing us about a gun¡¯s handling, assembly and disassembly. This was something that Friederika and I were relatively good at, and there were even cases where our instructors allowed us to use the firing range at times. Though I was never too fond of shooting, Friederika was more than thrilled to be able to let loose every once and awhile. My second year at Canberra also saw Paul Plotte enroll at the academy. But because we were a year apart it was rather difficult to see him at any given time¡ªthe only time we could converse was usually contained to the precious half hour of meal time we had. Even then, since the Mess Hall is so chaotically big it would be nigh impossible to exchange some words with him. Not that I particularly cared about ever talking with him, though.
Our sophomore cadet year was hectic. But even more hectic was the outside world¡ªor, er, the Orion Arm rather. From the snippets of news we got here and there, the senate in Sydney authorized another expedition of anti-piracy, which was headed by Commodores DeRyck and his mate Garofano. Since Commodore DeRyck had served as director for most of the first academic year and a portion of our second year, he had to resign to assume his active military post. Throughout the sophomore year of 216 my platoon would frequently huddle around tellys or radios during our off hours to tune in to broadcasts of DeRyck and colonial successes at routing pirate forces in Greater Ruthenia and elsewhere. It wasn¡¯t all positive news, however. There was a fair amount of somber news about the growing influence of a warlord named Dong Zhui. Under his leadership was the Madame Scarface, a ruthless pirate who strikes fear into Federation and colonial survivors. Some even say she¡¯s an amazon with short blonde hair and dead fish eyes, others claim she¡¯s not a woman at all¡ªtheScarface is either a giant toned man or a grizzly-looking man with cold eyes. But whatever or whoever the Scarface is, they¡¯re a monster that makes the Federation military tremble. But that¡¯s just what the news says, so who knows what¡¯s really going on out there? As the year 216 came to a close, I could only wonder how life for me and Friederika will turn out once we graduate from the academy. Will we too find ourselves deployed to fight the Dong warlord and his Scarface protege? Maybe by the time we deploy there won¡¯t be a need for officers like us to fight. Chapter 6: ~Military Boots Reminiscence~ | A Truth in Lies
SOMETIME IN 217 UC, JUNIOR YEAR AT CANBERRA ACADEMY
¡®FORCES LED BY THE MADAME SCARFACE DEFEATED NEAR THE ABASSAI SYSTEM!; The Metropolitan Naval Force under Captain Rubenfield suffer only light losses as they¡­¡¯ the opening words of a particular front-page newspaper jumps out at me as I scan the rack for something interesting to read. It¡¯s still early in the morning before our lessons start for the day so I figured I¡¯d read something to kill time. Intrigued, I reach out for it but get stopped by the familiar sight of red-mane hair that appears next to my side.¡°Hooo? Your eccentric Trachenberg friend isn¡¯t tagging along with you today?¡± Alexandra inquires as she peers at me and the newspaper. ¡°Oh, good morning, Alexandra, uhm¡­ yeah, Friederika was kinda busy today,¡± I cheerfully say as I skim the contents of the newspaper article. It¡¯s the middle of June or so, but this one is dated from a few months ago. Word must be awfully slow, I suppose. ¡°What¡¯s up? You wanted to do a quick simulation battle?¡± It¡¯s rare for her to approach me for one, it¡¯s usually the other way around. Speaking of which, I don¡¯t see that brown-haired girl that was a part of her little posse¡ªbut her name kind of escapes me. ¡°Oh yeah, where¡¯s that little shy gal that follows you around? She sticks to you like a well-used gum¡­¡± ¡°Like a well-used gum¡­? Oh¡ª HA¡üHA¡ýWA¡ü¡± I can¡¯t exactly put my finger on it, but her laugh reminds me of one of those seagulls when they see unattended food, ¡°¡ª you mean my sweet little Vinnie. Yes, she found herself preoccupied with stuff as well¡­¡± her squinting eyes gravitates more to the newspaper, ¡°Hooo¡­ only light losses?¡± Alex muses, leaving my question hanging entirely. It seems she is captivated by the headline much like I was. But then Alexandra cocks her head once the question finally gets through to her. ¡°Oh, hmmm¡­ yes, I did want to use you as a warm-up for the upcoming league with the seniors. You don¡¯t mind, do you?¡± She asks with a grin revealing her unusually sharp teeth. ¡°Uh¡­ yeah, sure. I think we have an hour or two to spare.¡± I close up the newspaper and put it back on the rack.
After we sign in to the booth, we make our way to one of the stadium-sized rooms assigned to us. Inside are two near-identical bridge-sized podiums¡ªthe only difference between them is one is red, and the other is lime-green. The red one has the serial number 007 stamped on the side and the lime one has 009. The flat area between the two is occupied by a black surface with railings separating it from the room¡¯s passageways. ¡°Which one do you want to use, Victoria?¡± Alexandra asks while leaning on the railing, ¡°it doesn¡¯t matter either way, though.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll take the green one,¡± I respond as I make my way up the tiny steps to the podium. She nods and also takes her place at the red one. With both of us now situated, I turn the knob that activates the system. Almost at once the black surface luminescences with a blue glow¡ªbut nothing shows up yet. Glancing down at my monitor a company logo named TECHNIVORM INDUSTRIES accompanied by a rainbow and star flash across the screen momentarily, then it is followed by the boot-up sequence.
Initializing¡­
Loading all modules¡­
Computing scripts¡­
Syncing with the mainframe system¡­
After a minute or two of that, the menu finally appears with a set of options.
MOCK BATTLES
SETUP TOURNAMENT
OPTIONS
SETUP TOURNAMENT is grayed out, so I select MOCK BATTLES instead. The new lobby menu that shows up displays a varying amount of sliders ranging from how many ships you want in a battle as well as several game rules from casual play to tournament competitive stuff. These can range from allowing a set number of reinforcements to warp in if you have enough points available, to setting the level of realism for ship morales¡ªit can be acradey or make a ship ai retreat at the drop of a hat. Ship composition is also determined on this screen before a match starts. There are several ways to win a simulated match. One way is to land a direct hit on the enemy¡¯s flagship, another is to wipe out the logistic auxiliary ships, or either annihilate or rout all enemy forces. Morale is an important thing to consider for the kind of game you want. ¡°Shall we do equal-sized fleets?¡± Alexandra shouts from across the room, ¡°or¡­¡± she over her podium with a crooked smile revealing sharp teeth, ¡°¡­I could lower my numbers to give you an advan¡ª¡± ? ¡°No.¡± I reply sharply, ¡°fight like you mean it!¡± The fiery-haired Ruthenian¡¯s menacing row of teeth disappeared, and I thought I even heard the click of a tongue from here. ¡°Hooo¡­ suit yourself, then¡­ how many warships shall we do? Five hundred? A thousand each?¡± The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. There¡¯s no limit to how many ships the systems can handle¡­ though it does start to cap out at around forty thousand each. Not that I can ever imagine the Metropolitan Space Navy ever having that much or facing an enemy numbering that many. ¡°Let¡¯s stick small¡ªso we don¡¯t miss our lessons later. We should do around four hundred each. You can do as many auxiliary ships as you want though.¡± Auxiliary ships don¡¯t particularly matter gameplay-wise¡ªsometimes you move them around to resupply ships. Sometimes you can even repair damaged ships but it¡¯s usually not worth it. Most of the time you use them as bait to make kill-zones. Alexandra shrugs then taps her screen to input in her ship numbers, and likewise, I do the same. We both press the CONFIRM button on our screens. Soon enough there is a hum as I am encapsulated by a virtual environment¡ªand I find myself on a proper ship bridge in outer space. Hundreds of titan-sized ships drift outside the digitized cockpit windows in columns that seemingly go on forever and disappear as blips to the naked eye. No matter how many times I go through this I find it amazing all the same. The podium¡¯s console shows a bird-eyes view of the battlefield, though my field of vision is obstructed by the fog of war which makes it difficult to make out where Alexandra¡¯s fleet is. ¡°Are you ready?¡± I hear Alexandra shout from across the room through the digitized environment. Where she would be in front of me is instead rows of my fleet in space¡ªa little immersive breaking when she shouts out like that, but what can you do about it? ¡°Yeah, I think I¡¯m done with the preparation phase, we can begin now.¡± ¡°Lovely¡­ I won¡¯t be going easy on you, you know that, right?¡± Was the response from the endless starry void. ¡°Yeah¡­ it¡¯s just a learning experience, let¡¯s go.¡±
The virtual environment disintegrated and the blue hue turned a blinking red signifying that I have lost the game. Again. Alexandra is just too good at what she does. I can practice all I want, but her full-frontal assaults are just too much to bear. Not even Friederika is often this aggressive. Despite my efforts to make several lines of defense, she pushed through despite surmounting losses and annihilated my capital ship directly. ¡°HA¡üHA¡ýWA¡ü¡± It¡¯s that cackle of annoying bird laughter again, ¡°that was quite the splendid show!¡± Alexandra exclaims as we both exited our podiums and met halfway in the middle of the room to lean against the railing divider. ¡°You put up a good fight this time around, Happ! I suffered quite a bit of casualties there.¡± She smiles like a fool revealing her rows of shark teeth. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you didn¡¯t pull back despite getting nearly annihilated. I think I still have about one hundred ships left compared to the thirty or so that made it to my capital ship.¡± I reply dryly, looking on at the game-over screen and the small polygonal ships drifting around the projected map knowing I¡¯ve let down my polygonal mini-men for the nth time. ¡°I don¡¯t even understand the logic of how that is a win when I still have the numerical superiority.¡± ¡°That¡¯s right, by all accounts, given the losses that should¡¯ve been a defeat for me, but you know¡­¡± Alexandra looks behind us and then tugs on my shoulder to get my attention. ¡°Something similar did happen in real life.¡± I squint at her with curious eyes,huh? ¡°You know that article you read about the Scarface being defeated at Abassai?¡± I nod my head, and Alexandra turns around to have her back against the railing, arms crossed ¡°¡ªthe Federation didn¡¯t actually win against her.¡± I break my glance at Alexandra and look back at the drifting polygonal ships, ¡°¡ªin fact, we didn¡¯t even suffer light losses¡ªwell, there was a contingent of accompanying Ruthenian and Merican ships that suffered the brunt of the action instead.¡± My grip on the railing tightens with each word, ¡°the Scarface got away with minimal losses¡ª and yet¡­¡± Alexandra¡¯s voice trails off bitterly, ¡° and yet the home-front is deceived into believing it¡¯s a victory!¡± ¡°Just how¡­ exactly do you know all of this, Alex?¡± I look back at her, and she looks reasonably upset. She straightens herself with a sigh and crosses her arms again, ¡°Back home¡ªI first learned about it when I went home during our last holiday break¡­ it was front-page headlines for a couple of weeks. There were lots of resentment against the Federation, and even though I¡¯m Ruthenian-born¡ªneither Vinnie nor I were allowed to wear our Academy uniforms for fear of getting jumped, or at least my father thinks so¡­ it¡¯s crazy back home¡­¡± She pushes herself away from the railing and turns around to lean over it ¡°the news we get here isn¡¯t as bad, not the newspapers, anyways. Our newspapers¡ªwhat you may call ¡®colonial¡¯ ¡ªare a lot more¡­¡± Alexandra stops to think of the appropriate wording, ¡°¡ªa lot more willing to lash out. They¡¯re very critical. I heard there were even attempts at suppressing freedom of speech in the press¡­ or something.¡± ¡°I had no idea¡­¡± ¡°But who knows who¡¯s telling the truth? The Ruthenians, or the Federation?¡± Alexandra says with a deflated sigh, ¡°maybe the Ruthenians are trying to downplay the success of pirate operations?¡± ¡°Why would they do that?¡± ? Alexandra only shrugs, ¡°adults are beyond me. In either case¡ªwe drove the Scarfacepirate out, and isn¡¯t that enough? Regardless of who faced the brunt of the force¡ªwe achieved the goal¡ªeven if it meant a¡­ er¡­ disproportionate amount of lives on our part.¡± ¡°Maybe a few losses by our definition counts as heavy for them? The Madame Scarface, I mean. I think what I¡¯m trying to get at¡­ is maybe both parties are overestimating the pirate¡¯s total strength?¡± I ponderously add as the blue-aura projection switches off from inactivity. ¡°It¡¯s a possibility¡­ we may never know for sure. Maybe people hundreds of years from now laugh at us for getting hung up over this, ¡± Alexandra comments on the way out of the room, ¡°you coming? Lessons are starting too¡ªand our poor little Vinnie and Friederika will be worried sick as dogs looking for us, HA¡üHA¡ýWA¡ü¡± And with that annoying seagull laugh, the red-haired Ruthenian leaves the room. I continue to stare at the sleek black surface in silence, pondering about our discussion before leaving the room to join Alexandra. Chapter 6.5: ~Military Boots Reminiscence~ | The Legacys Longest Night The rest of 217 went by before we knew it and the rivalry between Alexandra and I continued to grow¡ªat least in a good way, I would think. Not a day would pass when we would compete in some way or another¡ªrather that be in sports, test scores, or other activities like simulation battles. But never was I able to beat her at anything¡ªif this was some third-rate M-Drama she¡¯d almost be the perfect main character in every way. I like to think we had an interesting bond unlike that I have with Friederika. Friederika is Friederika to me, of course, but Alexandra¡­ When our summer break started in December, we wished each other goodbye and I hoped to see her in one piece the coming February¡ªif there was one truth about our discussion earlier in the year, it was that there was certain unrest in her colonial systems. And things over there in the Ruthenian continued to get more heated by the day. Not a day goes by when the old wrinkly blokes on the telly would get into tomato-red arguments about the issues regarding colonial divisions having autonomous naval squadrons of their own¡ªand supposedly that spooks the bloody hell out of Capitol Hill. ¡®It¡¯s a threat to the stability of the Federation¡¯ ¡ª ¡®if a policy of appeasement failed, they very well orbit Terra in a week¡¯ ¡ª ¡®Colonial navies are a direct infringement of the constitution!¡¯ ¡ª ¡®Horatio would be rolling in his grave if he saw us now! Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. It was not only the Ruthenians that old wrinkly politicians were spooked by¡ªbut also the Frankish Domain. ¡°¡ªThe Franks have for the longest time bowed to the insufferable demands of the Senate. But they have been too quiet¡ª and total silence is often a greater sign of trouble than the cries of resentment towards Sydney. ¡®For you know not if the commoners are merely sharpening their tools in the shadows, out of sight and out of mind.¡¯ ¡­Some of you now mirror the very same distrust¡ªbordering cautious sentiment¡ªtowards the humble Franks¡­ the very same people who supply us with material for our navy and bread for the hungry populaces of Sol. Even though they have done no wrong¡­ a seed of unease that bloomed all too quickly¡ªall because of the situation unfolding with their Ruthenian brothers¡­¡± It¡¯s those kinds of debates and addresses in Sydney that father would spend the days watching, or so mom says¡ªbut whenever he took notice of me he¡¯d turn it off and we¡¯d hang out. Father was never much for politics¡ªit was never up his alley. But mom laments the recent developments with Ruthenia flipped a switch in him. He definitely became more tuned in, and perhaps I was his one and only break from those kinds of things. Whenever I visited we¡¯d always do the same thing as always¡ªhunting, grilling, and so on.
The coming February means the full force of Aussie summer¡ªand the return back to Canberra Institution. I can only wonder what the academic year has in store for us. Chapter 7: ~Military Boots Reminiscence~ | Brave New World
SOMETIME IN MID 218 UC
CANBERRA ACADEMY
¡°¡­We¡¯re taking a trip to space?¡± Friederika eyes the pamphlet with scrunched eyebrows, ¡°I wonder if we¡¯re going to a Cluster colony or something?¡± I can only offer a shrug. ¡°Seems like it changes every year or so. Sometimes it¡¯s a planetary settlement, other times we get stuck on a ship entirely, and if we¡¯re lucky we get to visit a Side colony.¡± ¡°Have you ever been to space, Vicky?¡± Friederika rolls up the pamphlet and hands it over to me¡ªwell, more like slapping me in the face with it. Annoyed, I take it from her and unroll it to read.
NOTICE FROM THE DIRECTOR¡¯S OFFICE OF CANBERRA MILITARY ACADEMY
DIRECTOR INSPECTOR COMMODORE RAMSAY DERYCK
TO ALL CURRENT YEAR 4 CADETS
MUSTER IN STADIUM 2D FOR ORIENTATION REGARDING FUTURE FIELD EXERCISES BY 14:00
There are a few more tidbits at the bottom regarding details about shuttles and stuff, but that¡¯s the gist of it. I roll up the pamphlet and toss it in the bin next to me. ¡°Can¡¯t say I have. I¡¯ve only ever really been out to see and not much else. I think you went to space once or twice before, right, Kiki?¡± She nods, ¡°yeah, but that was years ago, I was like¡­ maybe five or so still. My great-uncle took my brothers and me out on a spin in his little dinky vessel and all I remember was we vomited a lot.¡± I couldn¡¯t help but laugh, ¡°you vomited ? Friederika nods with a rare serious face, ¡°yeah, we didn¡¯t actually spend too much time in space I think. It was kinda traumatizing for me and my brothers. I think we cried a lot and my great-uncle found it hilarious.¡± ¡°Talk about sadism¡­¡± Friederika rolls her eyes, ¡°yeah, you could probably say that¡ªthough we did get another chance when we were older. It wasn¡¯t nearly as bad the second time. I didn¡¯t nearly puke as much¡ªbut it was a little nauseating still. You get used to it eventually.¡± Friederika shoots me a toothy grin, ¡°just imagining the sight of you puking makes me¡­¡± ¡°Alright, you can leave my room now, bye.¡± Reaching over for the discarded pamphlet I toss it as hard as I can to Friederika, who easily dodges it. ¡°Okay, okay¡ªfine, see you at the assembly.¡± Friederika waves to me as she leaves my room, leaving me alone to gaze at the bedroom ceiling. Outer space, huh? This could be fun.
A FEW WEEKS LATER
SYDNEY MILITARY SPACEPORT
A flat concrete area that stretches as far as the eye can see, interrupted by the sights of distant cityscapes. Blips of ships dot the spaceport¡¯s vast area that appears gargantuan when we enter the spaceport premises and exit our busses. There are armies of technicians going around their day in land cruisers or small technician craft attending to some battered-looking ships that are almost as imposing as skyscrapers when you stand underneath them. ¡°Beautiful, isn¡¯t it?¡± The warm voice of a middle-aged bloke makes me spin around in surprise. Technically we weren¡¯t supposed to wander off, so I figured I was in trouble. ¡°¡ªMy apologies, I didn¡¯t mean to startle you,¡± he says with eyes fixated on the battered brown ship standing before us. ¡°I take it you¡¯re a cadet from Canberra Institution?¡± He asks, dropping his gaze to me, and I freeze up yet again. ¡°U¡ª¡­uh¡ªyhm¡­ er, yes. Yes¡ª that¡¯s correct!¡± I stammer trying to salute the man, he certainly has a fair share of ribbons on his chest. ¡°I¡ªI¡¯m Victoria Happ-chees¡ª¡± The man only scoffs and waves off my awkwardness. ¡°You don¡¯t have to be scared of little old me. I¡¯m merely a lieutenant¡ªLieutenant Viktor Mazzareli, that is. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you.¡± He returns the favor with a salute, and crosses his arms while looking up back at the ship again. ¡°¡ªIf you¡¯re from Canberra then that means it¡¯s that time of year where they send junior-level cadets up to space for training¡ªsometimes it¡¯s Side Mesopotamia¡­ other times it¡¯s on-hands training on a decommissioned destroyer or cruiser,¡± he looks back at me, and I can¡¯t help but stiffen up again. Suddenly, he seems a lot bigger than before, ¡°but relax¡­ they let us know in advance your lot was coming. So don¡¯t get the wrong impression that I¡¯m apprehending you for trouble. You should hurry back to your mates, though, if Commander Buttermilch sees some little cadet running around the vicinity of his ship, he might complain.¡± And with that, I nod and scurry back to the host of Canberra cadets.
¡°Sir! All year four cadets, totaling three hundred and eighty-nine in all, are present and accounted for¡± An assistant to Director DeRyck reports in a loud and crystal voice, and he gives a nod. A little while ago we were called back to formation and were given a thorough inspection by some of the director¡¯s staff, which also included reciting some rules or regulations which aren¡¯t too different from what we do in past inspections¡ªthere isn¡¯t really a point to it either. It¡¯s just to give us one last hard time. ¡°Very well, have all the cadets enter the designated shuttle crafts in single-file lines,¡± DeRyck says addressing both us and the Canberra staff. We are then ordered into two groups, one heading for two separate shuttles, and march to our crafts. It takes a while to get us on board since we have to wait in turns to hop on the escalators that take us up to the shuttle doors. When it¡¯s finally my turn, I take a few steps on the steps as I am slowly lifted upward. The experience kind of reminds me of escalators that you might come to expect at a mall or something. The only difference is there¡¯s no air conditioning and it¡¯s hot and stuffy from the mild Aussie heat. I take one last look back at the harbor and the dwindling groups of people still down below. It¡¯s a beautiful view from up here. I can only imagine how it is from outer space. ¡°Find a seat and get yourself situated on safety regulations. Then proceed to buckle yourself in¡ªhelp out your boys if they need any assistance,¡± a gruff-looking guy in army uniform barks to us as he walks down the passenger lane. I didn¡¯t notice it, but he was also handing out brown bags to everyone. ¡°What¡¯re these for?¡± I ask as I take one, and peek inside¡ªnothing. It has a label on it that has the word SPEIBSACKERL plastered on it. But my question falls on deaf ears as the man had already made his way further down the lane. Eventually, I do find Friederika, who happily sits down in the empty seat next to me. She gets herself buckled in, and helps me to also buckle in since it¡¯s a bit of a pain. After that¡¯s said and done, I notice I don¡¯t see her with a bag, though. ¡°Say¡­ you don¡¯t have a bag on you?¡± Friederika eyes my SPEIBSACKERL bag and only smiles at me. ¡°Nope! I don¡¯t need one. Do you even know what it¡¯s for?¡± ¡°Er¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s a puke bag, you puke in¡ª¡± ¡°OK, thanks, I think I know now.¡± Some time passes, and the gruff-looking officer accompanied by some of his colleagues makes his way toward the front to confirm that everyone is buckled in¡ªand offer any bags to anyone that needs them. After that is said and done, he grabs the receiver off the wall and dials a few numbers, ¡°this is Lieutenant Putsch: all passengers in sections B to F are ready for liftoff! We are ready to go whenever the pilots are,¡± Lieutenant Putsch man says into the phone. ¡°Affirmative, engines are warm and we will take off in t-minus two minutes. Hang in tight.¡± And with that Putsch hooks the phone back in place, he turns to face the rows of eyes piercing through him, to relay what the pilot told him. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, we will hardly notice a thing,¡± Friederika says cheerfully. Before I can even ask what she means, there is a faint hum as I find myself suddenly pressed into my seat, which I take to be the shuttle¡¯s engines roar to life as we are launched forward. My stomach churns continuously as there is an abrupt jerk upward¡ªfollowed by an increase in acceleration that only serves to make me sick. If I listen closely I can make out creaks and moans of the shuttle frame. Then, after what feels like forever¡ªthere is nothing. It¡¯s impossible to tell what¡¯s happening outside since all the windows are sealed tight, and Putsch forbade anyone from opening them. I grip my bag tighter, feeling a little woozy still. I glance over at Friederika for some reassurance, and she only shows me a beaming smile. ¡°Well? What¡¯d you think so far?¡± And again, before I can even process a response, I am interrupted by startled cries by other passengers somewhere behind us. I peek over my seat to see some cadets carelessly floating in various directions, clumsily trying to stabilize themselves to no avail. Various small articles like cans or paper also drift without a care in the world. Friederika suddenly gets excited and unbuckles herself, and she too starts gravitating above her seat. ¡°C¡¯mon! Enjoy it while it lasts, before they finalize the artificial stuff!¡± Friederika says excitingly, reaching for my belt system and undoing it. ¡°OI! You¡ªGah! Get back in your seats you wankers!¡± Lieutenant Putsch had made his way to our passenger cabin and sounded understandably very upset since he also didn¡¯t permit anyone to unbuckle until we were cleared to do so. ¡°C¡¯mon, Vicky!¡± She yanks me up and gently spins me around¡ªand it¡¯s not helping my stomach at all. Something begins to form in my throat, and I don¡¯t like it. Where did my barf bag go? ¡°I won¡¯t repeat myself again!¡± Putsch, seemingly unaccustomed to the lack of gravity, pulls himself to our part of the cabin while trying to hold down all the cadets in vain. Friederika, being ever so ignorant of our impending doom, finally opens the window covering, ¡°look! Isn¡¯t it a beautiful sight?¡± I can only spare to turn my head slightly to get a breathtaking view of a wonderfully blue planet; Terra. Just peeking off its rim are cylinder-shaped space habitats¡ªSide colonies, practically minuscule to our wonderful blue pearl. Even further is a gray dot¡ªthe Moon. The fascination is cut short. A big burly hand rips me from the window, and the sight of the stubby Putsch with his hazel-eyes is right in my face. ¡°Cadet Happ! Cadet Trachenberg! That goes for you as well!¡± It¡¯s no good, my stomach can¡¯t handle all this jerking around¡­ ¡°Blllaaaagggrrhhhhhhhhhhh¡ª¡±
¡°I¡±m shocked you threw up on the lieutenant, Vicky. If you had to puke that badly, you should¡¯ve told me sooner.¡± We were unloading our baggage from the rear of the shuttle when Friederika breaks the silence with a remark. Yeah, that would be a very Friederika thing to say. ¡°Okay, that¡¯s enough talk about¡­ agh, let¡¯s just get this stuff out of the way already,¡± I remark bitterly trying to suppress the memory as best as I can. I¡¯m probably never going to hear the end of it for the rest of my life; the blonde that threw up on big ol¡¯ mean Putsch. Never mind my future if we take in Putsch though. Poor guy, he¡¯snever going to hear the end of it for the rest of his career. Our shuttles landed within one of the harbors within Side Lepanto, which is a newer member of the Cluster governed by the capital of Mesopotamia. There are lots of vessels not unlike the homogeneous military warships we saw before. The civilians¡¯ ones docked here all unique and no two ships are alike¡ªI¡¯d say our lot of people stand out like a sore thumb¡ª ¡°Cadet Puke! Get moving!¡± I snap back to reality once I hear that terrifying voice of the lieutenant barking at me and redoubled my efforts to move the line of bags along to be loaded onto our new buses. Cadet Puke¡­ that¡¯s in pretty poor taste, Lieutenant Puke-face McGee.
Once everything was organized and ready, we boarded our buses and were driven to one of the tremendous metal-blue gates that lead into the first block of Lepanto.There¡¯s a brief lull as things are sorted out before we are let through the checkpoint into Lepanto. And there is a tidal of emotional gasps throughout our bus once we are finally given a chance to take in the scenery. From the point we¡¯re at, I can make out sprawling lush vegetation, occasional rolling hills, and eye-catching architecture that goes on forever ¡ªand white mist lingers in the air and materializes more in the distance which obscures what I can make out entirely. The landscape is broken up by slithering artificial rivers that divide the area of the Lepanto perfectly. The sides of the Lepanto are open glass windows that are as wide as they are long which stretch uninterrupted into the pure-white mist. The windows expose a glimpse of the deep blue sea¡ªyou can just barely make out Terra nestled in the stars¡ªso small, so insignificant in the grand scheme of things. The windows also serve to divide the other part of the landscape that¡¯s directly above us. Squinting hard enough I can make out just about as many buildings and lush environments that equally go on into the deep white mist in the far distance. Running straight down the middle is a system of rail-lines that connect the two landscapes at various points, which are likely stops that connect to elevators to bring passengers or cargo down. ¡°Beautiful, isn¡¯t it?¡± The somber voice of Friederika brings me out of my ogling monologue. I turn to see tears streaming down her face. ¡°Yeah, it is¡ª wait, why are you crying?!¡± I ask in both amusement and surprise, ¡°it¡¯s a breathing-taking sight, but it¡¯s not THAT¡­¡± ¡°I-I¡¯m just so taken in by it!¡± She says in between chokes of sobs, ¡°I¡¯ve never actually been inside a Side before¡­¡± It feels a bit awkward having some eyes gravitate towards us, but there are some similar sentiments of people getting emotional over the sight. I don¡¯t blame any of them though, it is rather moving. To think that generations of humanity lived in these gigantic capsules to avoid extinction¡­ Eventually, we reached our destination which is one of the train terminals with several trains in the station. We are ordered to disembark our buses in an orderly fashion which is anything but. We are allowed a moment of fresh air¡ªin this case artificial¡ªthat gives my lungs a slight tingle. Our brief rest is followed by unpacking and then transferring over to one of the trains, which we then board in an orderly fashion. After far too much rowdiness the trains depart the station and move at a moderate speed through the Lepanto. We are treated to a splendid birds-eye view of people going about their life. Ant-sized people on foot, small riverboats, and the occasional vehicle scooting around on slightly paved roads. But soon enough that passes by us, and our field of view is obstructed almost entirely by the thick fog that the train pierces without hesitation. When we emerge through the heavy mist we are greeted by a largely rural landscape. Many take to crowding the windows, often shoving others without a second thought, often shoving others like me and Friederika out of the way. There are dense forests that remind me of Indo-China, and plenty of hills and a few mountain points that dominate this part of the Lepanto. ¡°You think this is where we might be training?¡± Friederika utters as she squeezes free of the eccentric mosh-pit. ¡°Seems like it,¡± I reply with a nod while staring ahead at the next terminal station.
The next first few weeks were spent familiarizing ourselves with the rural district. This was followed by a rotation of activities ranging from simple physical education to grueling morning jogs while wearing light gear¡ªand later forcing us to haul around loaded guns and layers of ammo belts. It was sadistic, to say, and we were given little downtime¡ªquiet time was regularly enforced. Any poor soul who violated it would result in their entire company being collectively punished¡ªit was common for the first few nights of men doing laps in full gear at night, keeping the rest of the cadet body awake at times with their pants and groans. After the last week we were then subject to field exercises¡ªeither practicing with loading and firing dummy missiles into missile pods, or actual mini mock-battles between blue and opposing red force using paint pellets in place of live-ammunition. This part of our training lasted for about a week. ¡°Haaa¡­ I can¡¯t believe that¡¯s finally over¡ªthat¡¯s a bit too intense for me¡­¡± Friederika moans as I enter the makeshift tent she put up sometime earlier. She had a pretty terrible streak in all our mock-battles; she struck several times early on and was forced to sit it out on the sidelines almost every time. Lucky for her¡ªor so I¡¯d like to think, not so much for personal evaluation. ¡°Yeah¡­ you could say that again,¡± I reply, undoing my helmet¡¯s straps and tossing it to the side¡ªalmost the entire area is covered in a splatter of pink paint. Similarly, one of my thighs is completely doused in it and it sticks to my leg as a result. Washing this out will be a pain later¡ªthankfully, I packed extra pants. It turns out participating in a bonafide bayonet¡ªwhich are rubber¡ªcharge against an entrenched infantry force is not a very good idea. Alexandra was the one who suggested it in the heat of the moment, and she accused me of being a coward when I suggested a more tactful approach. Of course, the hotheaded one wins out in the end¡­ ¡°Hooo? Cadet Puke didn¡¯t make it through the entrenched line?¡± The aggravating voice of Alexandra makes me reel around. Her torso is dotted with pink blots of pain, and there¡¯s a tiny bit on her right cheek. ¡°You made it through?¡± I ask in mild surprise. She nods her head with that dangerously beaming grin. ¡°Barely¡ªwe took the first two trenches¡ªbut we were driven back pretty hard by a counter bayonet charge¡­¡± She deflates with a heavy sigh, ¡°I tried to protect my men¡ªI went down trying to shield Vinnie so she could escape¡­ but, well¡­¡± She looks behind her at Vinnie, whose back is against us. She seems to be trying to figure out where the paint shots on her back are located. When Vinnie sees us all looking at her she gets flustered and looks away. ¡°¡­All¡¯s well in mock-battle war. As exciting as that was though¡­¡± Alexandra suddenly looks serious, and she folds her arms while staring into the distance. ¡°¡­I hope we never have to do this for real.¡± None of us say anything afterward. It is a sentiment we all share in solemn silence. Chapter 7.5: ~Military Boots Reminiscence~ | The Tomorrow to a Better Future Later that day after everyone got situated our instructors informed us we would get a few days of rest. In the coming days, we would undergo the last part of our training: a loaded march exercise through a designated course through the mountains. ¡°Over thirty kilograms[modern_footnote]roughly over 66 pounds[/modern_footnote]?!¡± Friederika groans as we all proceed to pack our field-packs with a variety of junk and tools. ¡°And thirty kilometers by sundown¡­ are they trying to kill us?!¡± Friederika laments once more, ¡°¡ªI¡¯m a dead woman!¡± ¡°HA¡üHA¡ýWA¡ü¡ª¡± the annoying seagull laugh of Alexandra nearly deafens my right ear, ¡°your friend is quite the drama queen, isn¡¯t she?¡± ¡°Yeah, and I¡¯m her king consort,¡± I reply rather wryly, making sure my backpack met the required weight for the march. I look over at Vinnie, who is next to Friederika and trying to console her¡ªif I have to guess, Vinnie is also likely not physically active. The poor things. Who knows if I¡¯ll manage to be Friederika¡¯s side for the march. She¡¯s no doubt going to have a whopping bad time.
¡°On your marks¡­ ¡± The instructor points a flare gun to the air, and it discharges with a pop, ¡°get going!¡± Right on cue, the column of cadets marches into the starting mountain trail. Thirty-something kilograms backpacks, a few ammo belts around our necks, and lugging around a fully-loaded rifle. And eighteen kilometers before sunset. ¡°¡­This is bloody hell,¡± I agonize under my breath as I make my way past the first checkpoint set up by some instructors, which consists of an open tent, some unoccupied foldable chairs that make my mouth water and knees scream for mercy, and both a portable radio and laptop. One of them, an unshaven man with sleazy eyes, raises his head to me with squinting eyes, ¡°name?¡± ¡°Victoria¡­ ha¡­ Hap¡­ Schwarzenberger.¡± I reply in between breaths, making no attempts to stop my fast walking. ¡°Vicktory Happy-Shortsenurger¡­ gotcha.¡± His partner, a fat-chinned baldy, inputs it into his computer, ¡°Vicktory Happy-Shortensburger has reached the first checkpoint,¡± he says into the microphone next to him. He¡¯s not worth the energy to get mad at. Instead, I can only afford to place a curse on the fat-chin officer¡ªif I¡¯m lucky, some despicable deity might bless his descendants with triple-chin for several generations. Similarly, I curse my ancestors for sticking to such an outrageous surname and the deities that existed throughout history for allowing them to come up with such ideas. ¡°Name?¡± The second checkpoint is occupied by one guy. This time there¡¯s no tent, only a radio placed on a table with a clipboard. ¡°Victoria¡­ er, Happ,¡± I say bitterly, trudging past the checkpoint. If I have to hear one more person mess up my surname¡­ blimey, is this how Paul feels when I subconsciously flub his? ¡°Name?¡± I¡¯ve only gotten some meters away past the second checkpoint when he asks the next cadet. ¡°Alexandra Descartes-Dolz¡­¡± I hear that walking freckled seagull say cheerfully. I can feel a shiver head down my spine as I realize she managed to catch me in the lead. Leave it to the bonafide M-Drama all-perfect seagull to close the distance between us.¡°Yoo! If it isn¡¯t Cadet Puke! Or¡­ what did that one instructor say¡ª Happy-Shorts? HA¡üHA¡ýWA¡ü!!¡± Her grating laughter rings in my ears like none other. ¡°You know¡­ I¡¯ve always wondered¡­¡± I mutter in between pants for air. Alexandra has nearly caught up to me¡ªthat¡¯s kind of terrifying! Unlike Friederika I¡¯ve always prided myself in my running stamina. Never mind academics, other sports, or even war-game simulation¡ªa running race is the one thing I do not want to lose to her! ¡°¡ªHas anyone ever told you you laugh like a deranged animal?¡± I don¡¯t even have to look behind me to hear a bewildering scoff that was also¡­ a partially deranged laugh of the sort. ¡°A¡ª deranged animal? Haw¡­ I¡¯m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not!¡± ¡°To be more specific¡ªyou sound like a broken, deranged seagull!¡± ¡°HA¡üHA¡ýWA¡üHA¡üHA¡ýWA¡ü!! A SEAGULL !? HA¡üHA¡üWA¡ýWA¡üHA¡üWA¡ý¡­ and you¡ª and you ¡ªYOU¡ª YOU have a god awful accent with the worst slang I¡¯ve ever heard!¡± She says it in such a mocking Australian dialect that it compels me to stop dead in my tracks and reel around right as Alexandra bumps into me¡ªand we both fall on each other. We¡¯re both panting from lack of breath¡ªwe were so caught up in our barrages that we lost track of what we were doing and were practically jogging while fully geared. ¡°You know¡­¡± I say after a few deep breaths, ¡°¡­that¡¯s less of a personal thing and more of an insult to Aussies everywhere, y¡¯know?¡± ¡°Even compared to the other natives here¡ªyour accent stands out a lot more to me.¡± ¡°Er¡­ I don¡¯t think¡­ that¡¯s particularly true¡­¡± Alexandra, who¡¯s still on top of me, shoots me a beaming smile consisting of rows of sharp teeth. ¡°Doesn¡¯t that er¡­ kinda mean¡­¡± I can¡¯t even bring myself to register what I want to say. ¡°Er¡­ that you like my voice compared to others?¡± Her smile quickly disappears. Her eyes are averted as there¡¯s a slight red luminescence on her freckled cheeks, a lighter shade compared to her hair. ¡°No,¡± she replies a bit too quickly, ¡°I think¡­ you¡¯re getting the wrong idea¡­ maybe?¡± We lay as we are, unsure of how to make the situation¡ªwhen there¡¯s a sudden downpour of rain. ¡°Oh blimey¡­¡± She says¡­ which I¡¯m pretty sure is a jab at me¡ªor maybe I¡¯ve been rubbing off on her? ¡°You think this part of the exercise? Oh, our uniforms are going to get drenched! ¡± Alexandra gets off me and makes her way to a part of the wall with a decent haven from the harsh downpour, and I get up and make my way to plop down next to her. Maybe decent was a rather strong word¡ªwe¡¯re practically hugging each other in our little shell. ¡°I guess this should¡¯ve been expected, huh¡­¡± I muse observing the rather fierce downpour, and Alexandra only nods in response. ¡°They must want to¡­ uh¡­ drag out the whole ordeal if I had to guess? We¡¯ve already passed the second point¡­ there¡¯s two more, right? So the mud will slow people down. Trying to continue traversing in this mud will be bloody hell for sure.¡± ¡°You think they¡¯ll give us collectively failed grades if the slowest doesn¡¯t make it by sunrise?¡± Alexandra asks while reaching into her backpack to get out a rain jacket, ¡°here, let me hold your pack so you can get your rain jacket out too.¡± ¡°Thanks¡­ and, no, I don¡¯t think so. Our poor little Kiki and Vinnie would be scorned by the whole body of cadets if that were the case,¡± I slip on mine carefully, since we are squished in a tiny area and all. ¡°Ki¡­ki?¡± Alexander echoes, frowning, and not sure what to make of it, ¡°Friederika?¡± ¡°Haha¡­ it¡¯s just a nickname I gave her. Pronouncing her actual name is hard.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t pronounce free-de-re-ka?¡± ¡°Fred-ee-kuh¡­¡± I say trying to contain my embarrassment. She tries to correct me a few more times, but all it does is waste our energies more. ¡°WA¡üHA¡üWA¡ý, maybe you should just stick to calling her Kiki then. It¡¯s a lot cuter.¡± We spend the rest of the downpour in silence as it begins to drown out our voices and makes conversations exceedingly difficult. Eventually, exhaustion gets the best of us and we both fall asleep.
I jolt awake to the sounds of rocks falling and find myself alone in the small den. ¡°A-Alex?!¡± I utter groggily, getting up and peeking out to look around¡ªnot a soul in sight. It seems like we¡¯re rather still ahead of the others. I call out to Alexandra again with no response. The ground is still a little slippery from the mud, so I have to be careful in walking along the mountainous wall. I peer ahead at the narrow mountain path and don¡¯t see the redhead in the vicinity. Did she get a head-start on me? That¡¯s rather scummy of her to do¡­ is she that bent on winning this race as much as I am? Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. But looking down the side of the trail, it could be possible the rock-slide I heard earlier was her falling? In that case¡­ I feel a sense of numbness. Do I go on ahead for the sake of saying I won, or do I head down and rescue her? It could be just a coincidence¡­ maybe she could be enjoying a brisk walk to the finish line by now. ¡°A-Alex?!¡± I shout, a little louder this time down the side of the mountain. The slope is not particularly steep so it¡¯s possible to make my down to investigate. But if I¡¯m not careful, it could be lethal with the ground still wet, and I¡¯m not sure what¡¯s at the bottom because of mist and forestry obscure vision. Do I chance it? Should I chance it? I could just be overthinking what I heard earlier. I make a glance at my wristwatch; it¡¯s still a little before midday. All this would do is set me back a few hours at most. I can catch up without a sweat before the time-limit¡ª probably. This detour may set me back to the beginning depending on where this heads. Even with my stamina, there¡¯s likely no chance I could make it back before sunset. It might just have been a wild animal or something. I don¡¯t think Alexandra would be that much of a dolt to succumb to a slip that easily, but still¡­ With deep exhales, I slowly lower myself down the slope and carefully make my way down the rocky slide past the uncertainty that awaits underneath the canopy of misty trees. After enough maneuvering through the green shrubbery, I eventually catch sight of a familiar red-headed seagull in blue uniform and green jacket sprawled out on her back on what seems to be parts of a rockslide. ¡°Alex¡­?¡± I call out worried since she doesn¡¯t seem to be conscious¡ªbut thankfully, my fears were cut short when she wearily opens her eyes and shoots me a bleak razor smile. ¡°Ha¡ý¡­Ha¡ý¡­Haaa, oh¡­¡± Alexandra mumbles after a dry laugh, ¡°deary me indeed.¡± ¡°Are you hurt at all?¡± I crouch down next to her, giving her a brief inspection of injuries. I don¡¯t see any broken bones or anything. She should probably be fine. ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t think so. My right ankle might be a bit sprained, but I¡¯ll live,¡± she deflates with an exhausted sigh, ¡°laugh all you want, I deserve it. I got a bit greedy and paid for it.¡± She mutters rather bitterly. ¡°Don¡¯t say that, it could be worse, you could¡¯ve suffered a concussion and died. Maybe spend the rest of your life in a coma¡­¡± I reply hoping to be upbeat, but I might¡¯ve dampened the mood further. Alexandra doesn¡¯t say anything in response, and we spend a little in silence as the rain finally seems to peter off to light sprinkles. ¡°You know¡­¡± Alexandra breaks the silence somberly, ¡°¡ªI expected you to leave me behind.¡± I set down my stuff and gave Alexandra a gentle kick in the shin. ¡°I¡¯ll also be frank¡ªI thought about it¡ª¡± Alexandra¡¯s only response is a small scoff ¡°I wasn¡¯t even too sure you fell in the first place¡­ I risked the chance of failing the march for your stake. And if I didn¡¯t find you, who knows who would? It could be hours before a rescue party might even find you.¡± ¡°And you did it anyway, why?¡± ¡°That¡¯s¡­ the right thing to do, isn¡¯t it? Sure, I might win, but it doesn¡¯t matter one bit if you¡¯re in danger, right? I¡¯m the king¡¯s consort and you¡¯re the bloody damsel queen in distress,¡± I reach over and give Alexandra a nasty rustle of her hair, ¡°that¡¯s what friends are for, right? To help each other out of trouble.¡± I give her another rustle of her hair, ¡°besides, as long as we make it to the end regardless of the goal, that¡¯s what counts, right?¡± ¡°¡­Friends, huh,¡± Alexandra muses, looking up at the sky¡ªor rather the mist dividing us from the Lepanto¡¯s other land surface. ¡°We¡¯re friends, huh?¡± ¡°¡­Why does it sound like you¡¯re surprised at the revelation?¡± ¡°Ha¡ý¡­Ha¡ý I always figured we were¡­ rivals, I suppose?¡± Alexandra looks a little happier now, at least. ¡°You know, if Kiki and Vinnie saw us now, you think they¡¯d die of jealousy?¡± And the two of us break out in regular and seagull laughter.
After some time had passed I gathered a tent and a pole out of my backpack and proceeded to set it up for Alexandra. Since we are at an odd slope still, it is rather difficult to get it pitched by myself so I have to use some rocks and makeshift gear to hold it down in place. It¡¯s not easy when Alexandra can¡¯t risk moving around in light of her ankle. We weren¡¯t sure if the rain was going to intensify again, so it¡¯s a simple precaution not to get too wet. ¡°Say¡­ Victoria¡­¡± ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± After inspecting that the tent is indeed sturdy enough in the event we need to huddle in it, I crouch down next to Alexandra who manages to sit upright. I reach behind me for my canteen¡ªlargely untouched until now¡ª and flip off the lid for a quick drink¡ªbut then stop, ¡°say, you want a drink from my canteen? Since you lost yours, I mean¡­ I imagine you must be thirsty.¡± Alexandra looks a little bewildered but scoffs ¡°hoo¡­~ if you don¡¯t mind sharing your first kiss with me then I¡¯ll take you on your kind offer,¡± before I realize what she means Alexandra reaches out for it and purses her lips around the head of the bottle and chugs from it. After finishing Alexandra licks her lips and hands the canteen back to me. It weighs a whole lot less now. ¡°Your hospitality is greatly appreciated,¡± she says delightfully. I only roll my eyes in response and drink the remainder of it myself. ¡°But getting back on point¡­¡± she starts again, ¡°do you think¡­ there will come a day when we have to fight?¡± ¡°Fight? Fight whom?¡± I hang the canteen over my mouth to get the last dribbles of water out¡ªmaybe we should¡¯ve saved it for the way back? Oh well. I look back at Alexandra expecting clarification, but she remains silent for a while, looking into the distance at the hilly trees further down the mountain. ¡°¡­Why does the Federation go to such lengths to develop and train a military¡­¡± she squints and trails off, ¡°¡­why do we go to such efforts after supposedly several generations of peace and prosperity? Why now of all times?¡± Sitting the canteen down I scoot myself closer to Alexandra and rest my head against hers. The gerbils in my head spin frantically to spit out the best idea they can muster, ¡°¡­it¡¯s for the stake of suppressing pirate havens throughout the colonial regions, no? To keep the lanes safe and clear and¡­ maintain that peace¡ªso that¡­¡± I trail off with a weak sigh. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever been the one to sound all wise all of a sudden. ¡°One day, those pirates will be gone, and then what? We demobilize and live out the rest of our lives in harmony?¡± Alexandra sounds a bit angrier, she clenches her leggings as she continues, ¡°one day my brethren ¡ªthe Ruthenians¡ªwill¡­¡± she shakes her head, ¡°one day there will be a conflict to divide the Federation. One day I will have to return home, and¡­¡± ¡°Alex, do you resent the Federation? Do you resent people¡­ like me?¡± I ask quietly while clasping her hand. She shakes her head, ¡°I could never bring myself to hate you, Vick. You¡¯re a good person¡ªI like you¡ªit¡¯s just¡­¡± she moves her head a bit resulting in our foreheads touching, ¡°Vick, what compelled you to enlist in the Metropolitan Force?¡± ¡°Well¡­ it¡¯s nothing romantic¡­ I just wanted to follow in my father¡¯s footsteps¡ªand his pops and so on¡­ after my old man served in the Space Navy he was rather adamant against it before he gave in to my wishes¡­ what about you?¡± Alexandra closes her eyes for a few seconds before staring into my eyes again. ¡°Do the two of you get along?¡± I give a gentle nod, ¡°that¡¯s good¡­ I¡­ don¡¯t particularly get along with mine. He always wanted a son but had me instead, and that kinda stings as an only child¡­ haha¡­ ¡°Just being here in Terra gives him the impression that I¡¯m a hostage. He¡­ doesn¡¯t particularly like the Federation¡ªdoesn¡¯t like how they conduct things and trample all over colonial autonomy or some bullshit like that¡­¡± ¡°Do you feel like a prisoner here, Alex?¡± She pauses for a second before shaking her head, ¡°I felt like an alien at first¡ªeveryone here speaks a funny accent and I had no friends except timid little Vinnie by my side. But it felt different with you, I felt something I never did with my friendship with Vinnie.¡± Feeling my face burn up I shift myself just a wee bit away from Alex¡¯s face, ¡°hoo¡­~ you getting a little flustered?¡± ¡°S-speak for yourself, you¡¯re as red as your hair,¡± I reply rather embarrassingly, trying to cover myself with my poncho. ¡°¡­I came here to experience life in the mother world¡ªto see a glimpse into another reality¡ªthere¡¯s a lot of tension back home, Vick, trust me¡ªit¡¯s practically night and day in the colonies compared to the heartland.¡± I rest my head back on Alexandra¡¯s shoulder, ¡°why not apply for citizenship here when you graduate if it¡¯s so dangerous in the Ruthenian colonies?¡± She looks a bit sad. ¡°I want to¡­ but I don¡¯t think it¡¯s right. I want to do whatever I can to make life better in the colonies. Rather that be politically or through peacekeeping missions¡­ I want to¡ª I have to return home and prevent bloodshed from ever happening¡­ to keep Horatio¡¯s legacy a reality.¡± The legacy of a Federation in strength and unity. Indeed, if Horatio was still alive¡­ Our Federation is a far cry from his time. ¡°I¡­ I want to do what it takes to protect and preserve the ideals of the Federation too,¡± I quietly add to her sentiment, ¡°but if it were up to me¡­ I hope to never have to fire a shot in anger. A navy serving democracy should do for its people what it¡¯s people should do for it.¡± Alexandra nods, and we enjoy a few moments of our intimacy before the rain gets worse again, forcing us to take shelter in our tent that¡¯s even tighter than the small cave we were in before. A part of me is relieved I¡¯m not claustrophobic. ¡°When this rain settles down, I think we should get moving, you think you can move around now?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Alexandra says laconically but then quickly adds, ¡°by the way, your tent sucks. Never make tents ever again.¡±
When the rain settled I packed up what I could and helped Alexandra with walking. Since it was nearing dusk already, we both decided to just head for the first checkpoint and let them know what happened. The instructors were understandably worried since we didn¡¯t show up at the next checkpoint and sent a search party for us, but luckily we didn¡¯t get into too much trouble. They were relieved more than anything that the daughter of Vincent and the daughter of a renowned colonial officer were safe and sound and were willing to keep it off record to avoid any trouble. Both Vinnie and Friederika volunteered for the search parties and were greatly relieved we were safe. Friederika got a little emotional as I expected, but she calmed down and returned to her cheerful self. And with that, our time at Side Lepanto had more or less ended. We boarded our shuttle transports and returned home, taking with us fond memories and experiences to remember. Chapter 8: ~Military Boots Reminiscence~ | The Songs of Distant Terra And so, the rest of 218 went by in the blink of an eye. From what I saw over summer break, there were a series of startling developments unfolding in Sydney. Unbeknownst to the public at the time, there were a lot of deliberations in Capitol Hill on materializing a grand campaign to ¡®rid the Orion Arm of pirate havens once and for all¡¯. I tuned in to news snippets of Ramsay DeRyck being promoted to rear admiral and pushing for the senate to approve of this major campaign. ¡°Once more the Orion Arm will be free of piracy¡ªonce more the people of the Federation will rejoice in a new golden age for humanity!¡± Sappy stuff like that was exclaimed by wrinkly old men. In the mail, we received a notice that the class of 219 would be accelerated to graduate in June, rather than the expected December date. This deeply worried my parents, and similarly sent chills down my spine. This could only potentially mean one thing: I was going to get drafted into being part of the military campaign. My father was more deathly stricken by the possibility even more than my mum was, he had gotten so worked up for it that he remained bedridden even after I left home for Canberra Institution once summer vacation was over. When we returned, our fears were more or less confirmed: as per the directive set forth by the Admiralty, all military academies with graduations for the current year will be expected to contribute all bodies to positions they see fit. There was also a draft aimed at civilian college graduates and the general public, or so I heard from rumors, although generally not in commissioned officer capacities. With this in mind, they crammed down as much of a curriculum as we could. Most holidays we were expected to have for the year were canceled to make more room in our schedules. Even describing it as acceleration would be a complete understatement to the crash-courses we experienced. It was all so hectic I never got the chance to see Alexandra at all, let alone even Paul or Friederika half the time.
Our anticipated graduation ceremony was still a little way off, but when I checked my mailbox located outside our dormitory I was pleasantly surprised to see we received mail about our future posting. Quickly scurrying to my room I rip open the contents to find a few slips of paper informing us of the ship we were to report to and a list of superior officers we were expected to remember as well.
CC014 MSN YILAN
COMMANDER KENNETH BUTTERMILCH
LIEUTENANT-COMMANDER VIKTOR MAZZARELI
I can at least sleep a little better at night knowing there are people with even weirder names than Schwarzenberger. I could not even imagine growing up and being the butt end of jokes regarding buttermilk or mozzarella sticks¡­ well, I kind of don¡¯t need to with a name that my schoolmates called me Shorts-burger. There were also two small patches we were given; one for the Metropolitan Space Navy insignia, and another for the ship we were posted to. The Yilan¡¯s coat of arms looked like a swan and for some reason reminds me of Alexandra. I wonder what ships she and Friederika were posted to, anyway? I didn¡¯t have to wait long to find out for Friederika, though. There are several knocks at my door, and before I even get the chance to tell them to come in before it was busted open by none other than my eccentric green-haired friend Friederika. ¡°Vick!, Vick! Did you get your posted notice yet?!¡± She beams at me happily and plops herself on my desk that I¡¯m sitting at with such force that I¡¯m shocked it didn¡¯t just break under her fat bum. She snatches up my papers and gives them a quick skim, she hands them back to me with an even bigger toothy grin. ¡°We¡¯re on the same ship, huh¡ªfancy that!¡± But then she frowns again, ¡°wait¡­ why are you a rank of ensign and I get sub-lieutenant?¡± I look over mine again and sure enough, it says I am posted with a rank of ENSIGN. I can only offer a sigh and toss the paper on the table, ¡°we must live in a crazy world if you get commissioned with a rank above me. If there was ever a deity out there, I¡¯d say this is the work of a cruel one that wants to see me suffer.¡± ¡°Heh¡ªheh¡ªheh¡­¡± Friederika¡¯s grin is so menacing that it scares me a little. ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡± The words slip out before I know it; I feel I have created a tactical blunder. ¡°This means I¡¯m your direct superior!¡± She says rubbing her hands together. ¡°Well¡ªI don¡¯t know about that. You can be supreme commander of the whole fleet and I¡¯d probably still ignore you.¡± ¡°Way to ruin the moment¡­¡± Friederika says rolling her eyes, ¡°it does seem kind of arbitrary though.¡± ¡°Ah well¡­ what can you do about it? That aside¡ªI think the graduation ceremony should be starting soon. We should probably head down to the stadium and get ready before they start screaming down our necks to hurry up. Friederika nods in acknowledgment and we both leave to head down the flight of stairs. It¡¯s not long before we are stopped by a man carrying a camera with a comically sized lens. His assistant carries with him a collapsible bipedal stand for it, and the man carrying it is¡ª ¡°P-Paul?¡± Friederika and I stammer in unison. He looks beleaguered from probably humping the thing all morning, but doesn¡¯t say a word¡ªonly an exhausted grin and a nod as acknowledgment. ¡°Hey there, sweet cakes! I¡¯m going around and taking commemorative photos of all the Canberra graduates!¡± He exclaims, ¡°could you two stand there, look pretty and smile for the camera?¡± ¡°U-uhm¡­ sure?¡± I respond bemused, and Friederika and I do as they say. The duo quickly gets to work as Paul sets down the bipod and assists the colleague with setting it in place. Then¡­ nothing. ¡°Um¡­ are you done yet?¡± Friederika asks while striking a pose, ¡°maintaining this pose is kinda¡ª¡± ¡°Oh! Yes! Yes! Just like that! Yes!¡± The photographer exclaims ignoring the question, ¡°alright Cadet Plotte, help me remove the camera.¡± The two of them take the camera off, and Paul gruelingly trails his master as he zips past us, ¡°thank you, ladies! Have a wonderful ceremony!~¡± He left us hanging, just like that. ¡°I¡¯ll be honest, this place has it¡¯s fair share of weirdos. I won¡¯t be missing it.¡± Friederika says dryly after he left. ¡°But Friederika, you¡¯re one of the weirdos too,¡± I reply, and she rolls her eyes with an exasperated sigh.
The ceremony is conducted with such sincerity that it feels different from the previous years, and I don¡¯t even need to do a quick head-count to know that there area lot of visitors this time around. Everyone hushes as Rear Admiral DeRyck takes center stage at the podium, ¡°G¡¯day ladies and gentlemen¡­ thank you for coming down to visit this grand Institution once more. I had hoped to see you all in December under better weather conditions¡ªunder better circumstances¡­ but sadly, fate is a whimsical thing, and the Defense Ministry has mandated that all military colleagues and academies speed up their graduations for the current year. Many complained, and those complaints did not fall upon deaf ears¡­ however, the cadet officer draft was seen as a necessity to supplement our meager volunteer force. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. ¡°But let us be not sentimental or discontent of the decisions put forward by Capitol Hill¡ªthese very cadets are soon to be officers, and will be part of a historical force to restore Federation authority to systems befell by pirate warlords that continue to haunt our colonial brothers. Others will serve in more auxiliary roles in the Metropolitan Navy, to maintain the peace and security envisioned by Galland Horatio all these years ago. Our very children are fighting for a better future for their children, and future generations to come. We should all be proud of our cadets, and hold our chins high knowing we have taught them, helped them grow, and matured them into fine officers and characters¡­¡± DeRyck concludes his closing statements and lets other graduating cadets, as well as past Canberra alumni and teachers, share their thoughts. Then, a military band parades for us signifies the end of the ceremony. ¡°Your parents didn¡¯t come, Vicky?¡± Friederika asks as everyone around us gets up to leave. We¡¯re waiting for things to slow down so we don¡¯t get trampled by the mosh pit heading outside. ¡°No, mum had to stay home to care for dad. He hasn¡¯t been feeling too well.¡± ¡°That¡¯s unfortunate¡­ you think he¡¯ll be fit enough to see us depart?¡± I shake my head, remembering that ridiculous shock wave the two of us experienced years ago, ¡°I don¡¯t think they allow guests, do they?¡± Friederika is confused for a second but then nods, ¡°at the very least not so close to the naval dockyard.¡± ¡°Er¡­ yeah you¡¯re right, I¡¯m suddenly remembering the time you almost drowned over the bridge railing.¡± ¡°You mean when you smacked me and caused me to fall over?¡± ¡°I-I meant to grab on!¡± She protests, ¡°well¡­ anyway, I think my mom is waiting outside for me, so we drive you home if you want.¡± ¡°Yeah, sounds like a plan. I¡¯ll join up with you later, I want to go see if I can find Alexandra first.¡± The two of us go our separate ways for the time being. I search everywhere for Alexandra but come short of the seagull redhead, and I wound up unable to locate Vinnie either. Feeling a little sad, I head back to the parking lot and leave with the Trachenberg family for home.
AUGUST 219
SYDNEY MILITARY SPACEPORT
There is a sea of civilians looking eagerly on at the fleet of Metropolitan transport ships numbering in the hundreds, all lined up across the vast concrete plains of the spaceport. Despite what I thought a few months ago, most of the Federation armada is already in orbit; so civilians were allowed closer to the launchpads without fear of being blasted to oblivion by the propulsion rockets or aftershocks. Many military parades were held throughout the morning, and blaring music by the spaceport band was played. After the parades were completed, we were called back into formation by Rear Admiral DeRyck, Commodore Chal Hugo, and Commodore Cicero Garofano. We were told that the ships under Commodore Chal Hugo would be formed as a peacekeeping mission to the Frankish Domain and that the rest of the armada under DeRyck and Garofano would commence the anti-pirate campaign through the Ruthenia region and beyond. After DeRyck finished his speech, we were allowed a moment of downtime. Some of us went to say our goodbyes to our loved ones watching from a distance. ¡°Victoria¡­¡± My mother says gripping the divider between us, ¡°it¡¯s a shame your father can¡¯t be seeing you off¡­¡± ¡°It hurts a bit¡­ but if it¡¯s for his health he should stay in bed,¡± I say scrounging up what reassurance I could offer, ¡°just the fact that you managed to come by is more enough to give me strength,¡± I say trying not to get too emotional. All around us were people sobbing and embracing each other. ¡°W¡­will you be alright by yourself, Victoria?¡± Mom was already starting to tear up, ¡°should I rush back home and give you Vivi?¡± ¡°Mom¡­¡± ¡°You better keep your space nice and tidy, you hear?¡± ¡°Mum¡­¡± ¡°You better eat a healthy diet and get a bloody good exercise!¡± She says unable to stifle her tears. ¡°Mo¡­¡± This time I lose the no-crying contest, we give each other a warm embrace and cry into each other¡¯s shoulders. But like all good things, it has to come to an end. The sound of a whistle blows, signaling for us to return to formation. ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ I¡¯ll be¡­ I¡¯ll be back in one piece, mum! Wait for me! I¡¯ll get you lots of souvenirs!¡± I wipe away my tears as I wave to her as I run back towards the formations¡­ But then I stop dead in my tracks. A few meters from me is Alexander Descartes Dolz. The redheaded freckled Ruthenian that laughs like a seagull. She looks surprised to see me, and my gaze falls to her ship patch
TRINIDAD
I felt my very heart sink and break in two. She must have done the same and looked equally distressed at the revelation. To think we would not be on the same ship¡­ or the same fleet for that matter, as the Trinidad is the flagship of Rear Admiral DeRyck, and the Yilan is under the Hugo fleet. Why is God so cruel? Why must he make me suffer like this? After all we went through¡­ we don¡¯t even get to be posted in the same fleet. ¡°Vick¡ª¡± she utters, already trying to suppress tears from forming. Without even thinking, I walk¡ªthen rush¡ª toward Alexandra and promptly throw myself into her arms. I bury my head into her chest and open the floodgates, ¡°¡ªtoria!¡± She stammers, unable to contain her tears any longer, and we embrace each other even tighter than mom and I did. It¡¯s suffocating for sure, the pain of not being with Alexandra hurts even more. I raise my head and rest it against Alexandra¡¯s forehead. ¡°Alex¡­¡± ¡°¡ªDon¡¯t say anything.¡± She says trying not to choke her words, ¡°don¡¯t¡ª¡± I kiss her wet cheek, and likewise she does the same. ¡°¡­Be safe, Alex. Just¡­ promise me you won¡¯t die.¡± ¡°¡­HA¡ýHA¡ý¡­¡± she struggles to laugh in between her chokes of sobs, ¡°¡­I could very well ask you the same¡­ if you die I¡¯ll never forgive you in the afterlife.¡± We spend the next few moments in silence before another round of the whistle makes us recollect ourselves. ¡°I¡¯ve never been one to say good-byes¡­¡± I say after clearing my throat, I rub her cheeks with my thumbs to wipe away her tears. ¡°It¡¯s not a good-bye if we¡¯ll see each other again. We definitely will.¡± She reaches in for another kiss on the cheek, then we take a few steps back from each other ¡°I¡¯ll see you later¡­ Victoria.¡± And with a salute to each other, we about-face and head to our respective formations.
¡°You and Alexandra are awfully touchy-feely,¡± Friederika says rather bitterly. We¡¯re strapped into our seats, ready for the shuttle to take off. Looking out the window some of the other shuttles have already done their take-offs and are proceeding for space. ¡°Are you jealous?¡± Friederika only gives me a hmph! and shuts me down at further attempts at conversion. Ah well. She¡¯ll get over it eventually. After a while, it¡¯s our shuttle¡¯s turn to take off, and we are ordered to seal the windows tight until further orders. There¡¯s the usual hum of engines and the odd feeling of breakfast churning in my stomach but at least I¡¯m more accustomed to it now. But I clutch the nearby SPEIBSACKERL bag just in case, anyway¡ªmy other choices are puking on the window, the seat in front of me, or Friederika. I¡¯d rather let the puke moniker die quietly, so SPEIBSACKERL it is. Our commanding officer permits us to unseal the windows, and a legion of people crowd around the window to get a sight of the assembled armada¡ªhundreds¡ª thousands as far as the naked eye can see. To think that Alexandra is in one of many makes me feel a little more assured about her safety. DeRyck is a model admiral, and Alexandra is a strong girl. There¡¯s no way the Federation can be defeated that easily. ¡°See you later, Terra¡ªsee you later, Alexandra.¡± Characters and Glossary (updated October 13th 22)
CHARACTERS
PROTAGONISTS
Victoria Happ-Schwarzenberger | Vicky Born in Canberra, Australia in 203 UC as the only child of a retired military couple. From a early age, her parent''s expectations were for her to enlist in Australia''s naval task force that patrols the dangerous seas of former SEATO nations, but with the emergence of the Metropolitan Space Naval Force, Victoria had other plans, and eagerly hopes to enlist in the space navy instead. Why partake in the old world¡¯s ways when she could be part of something bigger than her or anyone else? If Victoria were to describe how her youth is, she would describe it as ¡°whopping extraordinarily ordinary. Dull, yet full of youthful blissfulness.¡± The closet Victoria has to a eccentric, exciting life are wild escapades with Friederika here and there.. To say Victoria had a well-off, unassuming upbringing detached from the troubles of the galaxy would be one thing, but to say it was calm and boring with a chaotic wild card like Friederika in her life would be lying. She and Friederika have known eachother since early childhood. Victoria affectionately calls Friederika ''Kiki'' if only because pronouncing her name is a pain. She is a cheery gal who is into ungirly nerd things. One could say they were stuck at the hip of eachother with how much they were together. During and before her time at Canberra academy, Victoria developed a fascination with humanity¡¯s rich but strained history; it''s cultural roots and it''s dark and muddled conflicts. However, Canberra¡¯s department for history studies was abolished as part of budgetary cuts to her chagrin, leaving Victoria to focus on the grueling studies of the academy that she had little interest in outside of tactical simulations with her peers. Victoria¡¯s evaluation by the time she graduates the academy.
Sports, physical fitness 25/100
Tactical theory 70/100
Strategic theory 80/100
Small arms handling 5/100
Leadership talent 51/100
Academic studies 49.9/100
War/Social History (before abolished) 90/100
Victoria art is by 711pan
Alexandra Descartes Dolz Born in 203 UC at the Vardini colony of Side Pella. Alexandra grew up in a period of increased civil unrest in the Ruthenia realms, particularly in Side Pella. Peace and stability is not something Alexandra is familiar with as it became a part of her early childhood and teenage years to hear of violent clashes between protesters and security forces. By 214-215, Alex came to accept there is injustice in the world¡ªsomething that was instilled into her by her disillusioned father, Tory. Having felt that she has lived under the shadow of her father for far too long¡ªthe ¡®Mad Dog of Ruthenia¡¯ as Tory would later be known as¡ªand hoping to get away from the instability at her home Side, Alex decided on an exchange program to a military school institute in the heart of Metropolitan Sol¡ªTerra. To experience what it is to live as a Eartnoid and open her eyes to a whole new world, and use her experience to shape the world into a better tomorrow. Personality-wise, Alex is brash, and prefers straightforward tactics; she is the kind of person to achieve her goals and sees any methods as a justification to her means. She has a rather peculiar laugh, as Victoria would later describe as ¡®a seagull off its rockers¡¯. Alexandra by 711pan
Li Chou??| The Madame Scarface Most likely born in 200 UC, of either Chinese or Korean ancestery, to a civilian merchant family. Chou was a curious child who questioned everything around her. She had one other brother, and a younger sister who died in birth when Li was 3. Li looked up to her older brother¡ªquite literally, as he was taller than the norm, even moreso than their parents. She enjoyed following him around and helping him with chores when it came to unpacking trade goods and such. Li Chou was quite energtic and enjoyed playing with other kids while the adults did busines. For education, she was largely homeschooled by her mother and older brother. When Li was 6, her ship came under attack by a company of pirates under Dong Zhui. His gang ruthlessy cut down her eldery father and her brother. Li and her mother''s attempt at escape was in vain, with the latter''s eventual death. Li came to resent both Dong and the pirates, but eventually warmed up to the pirates that took her in, like Simon Oliver and eventually thought of them as a extended family (beside Dong). Some, like Simon, would even help continute her education in some way or another. Li''s relationship with Dong had become increasingly violent at times, in one particular case, Dong had gotten so furious he lost control and struck at Li with a sharp dagger¡ªof which he never pulled out unless for most serious offenders, leaving a grievously deep wound. Li''s obedience to her foster father gained the respect of the men throughout the years, a fact that Dong worried would undermine his authority. During Dong''s campaigning in the Merica-Rouen regions, she found herself thrust into command of a squadron of heavy cruisers, where she won a string of skirmishes against rather large squadrons of Federation destroyers. In the aftermath of one such fight, Li had a whole squadron of cruisers surrender after only suffering minor losses. Her experience growing up in the shadow of a harsh father has left her with little faith in spineless people. She ordered the execution of most prisoners, which would become her magnus operandi for years to come. This reputation had garnered her the nickname of Madame Scarface. Dong''s worry grew to such an extent that he forbade her from leading any major formation on her own, and delegated her to administrator roles in his regime. Li Chou by 711pan
THE FEDERATION (OF SOL)
Horatio Galland The last prime minster of SEATO and first prime minster of the Federation. Born in 2638 AD to a poor family of goat herders in the sticks of New Zealand. Horatio had an uneventful childhood. Both of his parents died when he was seven years old, leaving him to support and feed his family well under his young adolescence. He saved up enough money to go to university and graduated with a political sciences major in 2662. He spent the next decade politically active, until his eventual landslide victory as prime minister of SEATO in 2672. Galland enacted sweeping reforms that gradually transformed it into a ¡°zealous welfare state¡±, giving him unprecedented popularity as prime minister never seen before even seen with future PMs¡¯. Galland was also a visionary space reformist, he passed dozens of charters that granted universal rights for spacenoids and strive for equal representation in parliament. Galland was less successful with campaigning for autonomy of spacenoids, however, a obstacle that persisted long after his death. After 2 tenures as prime minister Galland reformed the obstructive SEATO union as a all-encompassing Federation¡ªwhich he proudly called the pinnacle of his career. Being a strong advocate for democracy Galland was tempted several times to forcibly retire from the prime ministry¡ªbut the conditions just wouldn¡¯t allow it. Galland hoped to retire for good after twenty-one years as prime ministry¡ª¡±a dictatorship if there bloody ever was one¡±¡ª he would later write in his memoirs. After the assassination attempt of his life by a jaded ¡°ultra republican¡± in 5 UC he was steadfast determined to retire after PM elections. His lasting legacy was his Farewell Address that outlined the threats of political disunity and ambitious dictators. He died of natural causes in 42 UC.
Ramsay DeRyck Ramsay was born in a quiet New Zealand suburb in year 189 of the Universal calendar. The oldest of 3, he was regularly a sickly child and was jealous of his siblings for being able to spend time outside in the photogenic New Zealandic countryside. His siblings recall that they were never close growing up, but after the death of their single mother in 206 he went to great lengths to bond with his siblings. Even after his enlistment, he continued to keep in touch with his family members and sent some of his wages to them when necessitated. He attended the historical Australian Defence College in 209 and was described in the memoirs of his colleagues as an "aloof chap who did not care much for study and was only interested in some particular subjects such as history. His grades outside of that subject were lackluster but his history professor appreciated him very much." When he was threatened with expulsion, he straightened himself and became quite diligent, which improved when he also befriended the older Cicero Garofano. In 212, Ramsay graduated with the rank of commander(as a result of networking) and was attached to the then-ceremonial space force stationed in Terra''s orbit. By the next year, through further political connections, he was promoted to commodore of the newly minted Metropolitan Space Navy. Conservative and calm when things get tough, with an eye for tactics. In his prime, he was a bit of a womanizer and drinker.
Cicero Garofano Born in 179 in one of the Galactic Far East colonies, of Eurasian descent. His family, which includes 4 older sisters and 3 brothers, moved to the Metropolitan Side colonies in search of new prospects when he was 9 years old. In his early adulthood, he was a prolific player of the modern Polo sport but declined to make a career of it. In 205 he moved to Australia and later attended the same college as DeRyck, where they became acquainted in Garofano''s last year of attendance. He graduated as a lieutenant commander and posted to various Side defense installations in the Caldonia corridor. Eventually, through merit, he was promoted to the rank of commodore. Cicero could be described as a level-minded and a down to earth person. He was regularly the mediator between Dolz and DeRyck during their 216-218 campaign period, who each preferred doing things their separate ways. At around the same time, he had taken a liking to liquor, with speculation that this was to cope with the bickering of the two.
Chal Hugo Born in a Yefren Side colony to a family of 5 in 193 UC, the youngest and also the only male member in the household. He was often teased by his male friends "for scoring the jackpot" and was often used as a bonafide wingman to keep other guys from dating his sisters. In his early adulthood, Hugo had a reputation for being reckless which often landed him in trouble at times. He devoted his time to sports and was on track to earning an athletic scholarship. In 209, he attended a military academy in the capital Side of his Cluster at the age of 16, where he continued his love for sports (and scholarship money). He graduated in 212 as an ensign and continued his officer education at the military university affiliated with the academy, where he graduated as a lieutenant in 216. Chal held several posts over the years and eventually reached the rank of commodore by early 219.
Viktor Mazzarelli Born in 192 UC in the Australian outback, Viktor had a keen eye for taking things apart but not exactly putting them together. As he got older, Viktor continued his love for engineering in his high school years. After graduating, he spent a few years of soul searching around the country and later on decided to attend a military institute in 211 that offered military engineering. Upon graduating the institute in 214, Viktor was posted as a sub-lieutenant in Terra''s land construction yards and contributed to the construction of the reconstructed Metropolitan flotilla there. Upon the fleet''s completion, he was promoted to lieutenant and served under Buttermilch during DeRyck''s 216-218 anti-piracy campaign and saw some action, where he was promoted by merit to lieutenant commander but largely owing to Sydney''s anticipation of the upcoming 219 campaign. A logical person at heart, it was often said that Viktor''s prowess as a lowly officer was being squandered and deserved much more.
Kenneth Buttermilch Born in a Kongriega corridor colony sometime in the 180s'', Kenneth''s youth was a rocky one. His father passed away when he was 10, leaving him to care for his mother until she followed suit some years later when he was 16. Despite this, Buttermilch studied diligently to attend a prestigious university in the Perdenes system but lacked the tuition fees to attend there. This lead Buttermilch to continue his education at an officer academy that had the curriculum he was interested in, which promised to waive tuition fees if he entered military service. Upon graduation in 215, he received the rank of lieutenant and served with distiniction in the 216-218 campaign, where he achieved the rank of commander through merit.
G?tz von Putsch Born in 188 UC at Side Dulap at Marsol. Hazel-eyed and stubbles. He became a commissioned officer in 216 UC upon completion of military training and became a lieutenant by 218 UC, and spent some time as a instructor for Canberra Academy. By 220, he went through an unusual fast promotional record and became a Major in the MSF marine corp, and is part of Commodore Chal''s military mission to the Frankish Domains.
Lisa Margot Born in 187 in New Zealand, Lisa grew up fascinated with cuisine and fitness. She took studies in culinary and graduated with a degree in 207 UC, where Lisa spent some years managing her family¡¯s bakery at a Terran side until it closed due to bankrupcy in 211. In 213, Lisa found herself drafted into the Metropolitan Space Navy and was commissioned as a culinary Petter Officer aboard the Yilan. She disliked the ship at first, but came to realize she had far better access to food than she ever dreamed of compared to back home. She continued her tours of duty with the Yilan until her last one ended in 217. She had a brief stint of wandering around at odd-jobs throughout Terran clusters, but found herself deployed once again on the Yilan for the upcoming mission to the Frankish Realms in 219/220.
Lucas Perat Born in 161 in the outer hinges of Lombardia, Lucas has spent his whole career in the military in some form or another. Lucas was a drifter who bummed around until he cleaned up and was conscripted into NOSPS at the age of 16 around 177. He served as a inspector for NOSPS, and was reassigned to several naval vessels on Terra¡¯s Pacifica Surface fleet upon NOSPS¡¯s dissolution in the early 180s. Lucas has continously denied promoitions through his absurdly-long career. By all means, he has enough merit to become even, arguably, a lietueant-commander or even a commodore in SEATO or even the MSN. Nonetheless, Lucas has retained the rank of Petty Officer Second Class by 220. In the ''Good Morning Toscana!'' chapter, he is the ''Old Man'' from Victoria''s perspective.
Poe Kippard A young female lieutenant who serves above the Yilan. Kippard was born on Side Mesopotamia on December 203. Her youth is described as one of quietness and curiosity. The Poe family has moderate prestige in the unsanctioned armed merchant business that thrived for a while before the 200s¡¯. But at her parent¡¯s behest she pursued a future as a military officer and thus enrolled at Canberra Defense Institute because of it¡¯s favorable attitude with waiving tuition fees and studied diligentl. It is said that Poe grew out of her shell somewwhat, becoming a more outwardly personality while living in-house at the Academy, hoping to become the best of her class and year. Those that knew her would remark she became a lot more competitive in contrast to those she decided on rivals; those being Alexandra and Victoria. Interestingly, it appears that despite her outward nature her small obsession with both has gone largely unnoticed. Though usually reserved, she was observed as having a temperamental problem, and were it not for the mobilization of cadet officers it¡¯s likely she would¡¯ve been discharged favorably. Along with the rest of the cadet officers, Poe would be speedily graduated and assigned to the Yilan as a lieutenant. Though they are the same rank, she serves as a junior adjutant to her senior-age Prince.
Bernie Yamazaki A young female Legionnaire stationed aboard the Trinidad. Born sometime in 204, Bernie was originally from side Ishtar-Terra but was forced to take refugee as Johnathon¡¯s 19th Corps mutinied and seized control of the cluster. After her family fled to a nearby starzone, her and her family disappeared off the records. Years later, she resurfaces official records as a inductee within the Frankish Legion.
MacKenize Cadenza Former NOSP agent, and the first and formal commander of the Yilan. In the late 170s'' and 180s'', MacKenzie served her time as a NOSP agent in the Metropolitan Sol star zone and surrounding vicinities. At some point during NOSP¡¯s involvement during the battle of Al-Bawa Qu, she supported the men on the ground with supply and retrieving wounded. However, she disobeyed orders and saved as many soldiers as she could before the Al-Bawa Qu garrison would be wiped out along with their enemies. Despite a heroic media coverage and being hailed as a hero, Mackenzie would be quietly court-martialled sometime later and reassigned to a divison outside of Perdenes. At a later date in time, Mackenize would be discharged from NOSP¡ªbefore it too as a organization would be dissolved in the late 180s¡¯. MacKenzie would later return to active service in the Metropolitan Space navy in 214. In 215 she was given command of the newly-constructed CC014 MSN Yilan, becoming Kenneth Buttermilch¡¯s direct superior. Her time with the navy would come to a abrupt end sometime in 217, and she disappeared from records after her second honorable discharge from the navy.
RUTHENIA TERRITORIES
Tory Dolz??| The Mad Dog of Ruthenia Born in Dundaes in 171 UC to a humble merchant couple as an only child. Tory often accompanied his parents on their space-faring journeys. During lull trading periods, Tory was enrolled in the local schools for chances of education. Growing up, Tory was described by his peers and schoolteachers as a quiet child who was a bit of a loner, in other accounts, he was willful and presented himself as a forceful person. In 187, Tory did not accompany his father on one such business trip due to a fever his mother had developed, forcing him to stay at their residence and care for her. This would prove to be a change of events for the young Tory, as his father''s merchant ship was raided during its fateful voyage. His father refused to cooperate with his assailers and was murdered after the scuffle had gone violent. When Tory learned of his father''s fate, he became outraged, not only at the pirates but at the authorities for not taking measures to prevent such atrocities. This childish grudge would later mature into a genuine distrust of the Federal government during his time in the Vistol War College. In the years that followed, against his ailing mother''s wishes¡ªwho hoped her troubled son would "forgive and forget" and pursue a more peaceful life¡ªTory eventually attended Vistol War College at the regional Vardini capitol in 207. During his time there, he became politically active and radicalized by similar anti-Federation sentiments. After graduation in 211, he was assigned as a lieutenant in a senior officer capacity to several L?nsobdian Side colonies, but saw minimal combat, if any. He received news of his mother''s death in early 212, which left him with much grief. After the unlawful formation of colonial naval forces in 213, he was given command of a minor section of destroyers in the L?nsobdian Naval Flotilla as a lieutenant commander. Tory continued to prove himself by merit and achieved the rank of captain by 215 and was chosen to be the commander of Central Ruthenia¡¯s task force. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Tory''s youth as a willful person translated into being an audacious fellow; a trait that sometimes worked against him when it initially came to getting promotions as it often a source of chagrin for his superiors.
THE YEAR 217 MAFIA
Dong Zhui??| The Don Born in the 170s'' UC, somewhere in the Lombardia region. he was said to have a modest upbringing. Dong was described by early records of his peers as a bright lad who was quite chivalrous and an understanding person. He took a liking to horseback liking and enjoyed hunting. As he got older, however, something in him changed. The crippling debt from his father''s businesses broke his father in more ways than once, and he took his anger out on his children. The abuse from his father made Dong himself turn to juvenile crime. Sometime in the 190s'', he murdered his father after the latter struck his mother, who collapsed and didn''t recover. Afterwhich, he ran away from home and found refugee in a pirate ship disguised as a merchant ship. After a bit of ruffling, he joined the crew and began his career as a pirate for much of the decade, eventually murdering the pirate boss who took him in and took over the small pirate company he controlled. At the turn of the 3rd century, Dong had taken in a young child named Dong Che, with some speculation that the young Dong was kidnapped and his parents murdered. Nonetheless, Dong treated him like he was his flesh and blood. Similarly, seven years later, he would again kidnap another child¡ªLi Chou¡ªafter her parents had suffered the same fate as well. The two of them did not get along very well, which at one point reached a point where Dong slashed the young Li''s face with a sharp dagger, leaving a permanent scar that came to symbolize the relationship between the two. Dong''s pirate company kept a low profile for most of the 200s''. As the 210s'' was underway, Federation efforts at undermining piracy activity reached its peak with the 216-218 campaign, forcing Dong to strategically relocate to Merica-Rouen, where he found much support from demoralized pirate thugs who looked for a strong leader. Owing to his fearsome charisma was an unlikely facial feature¡ªa birthmark had grown out of control on the left side of his neck, covering his face with an overgrown purplish tumor on his left face and upper body. This gave him a distinctive dimidiating look¡ªone that ultimately caused him much pain and historians attribute to his frequent sudden outbursts of anger.
Dong Che Born in the 190s'' to a humble family from the Lombardia region, presumably of Chinese ancestry. There is little historical documentation of his early life before Che''s adoption by the older Dong in 200 UC. In the 217 Mafia''s official records dated 225, Dong "was a man of great build with a large belly and a mightly beard that rivaled that of his adopted father." Che was quite possibly the only person the senior Dong Zhui had ever shown any kindness to throughout his life, with very little records of violent outbursts in comparison to his half-sister. Dong Che and Li Chou had gotten along well growing up. As it became evident, however, that the senior Dong Zhui was placing much faith and trust into Che and more accepting of him as a foster son, it would cause the relationship between the two siblings to drift apart.
Simon Oliver Possiblyborn in the early 170s, an sage lieutenant who has faithfully served Dong Zhui since his younger days. Oliver¡¯s parents were Zonal-based merchants who expected him to inherit the business. After their untimely death however, Simon was left with a business that was impossible to turn around, and inevitably it went belly up. Broke and with no purpose in life, Simon turned to the dark world of piracy, and offered his services to various pirate captains who operated out of Zonal. In the mid 190s¡¯, he met a young and disturbed Dong Zhui, and the two of them became good friends. Later, Simon agreed to the plot to overthrow the pirate boss they served under, and Simon helped to solidify Zhui¡¯s power. Oliver helped to establish the code of conduct that would later form the basis of rule for Dong¡¯s later mafia. By 206, Simon¡¯s lackeys had boarded a merchant ship belonging to the Chou family and murdered everyone aboard with the sole exception of a child¡ªLi Chou. After the incident. Simon was entrusted with the care of the child he rescued and helped her grow as a person. Simon and Li¡¯s relationship is one of teacher and mentor, as Simon grew¡ªso did Li. Everything he learned from leadership and ship combat¡ªhe passed on to Li Chou. As such, he became something of a father figure despite Dong proclaiming her his (estranged) daughter. With the 210s¡¯ underway, Simon advised Dong Zhui to strategically relocate to the Merican-Rouen region, and later the Toscana region where local development was low enough for Dong Zhui to establish a informal government ¡ª the year 217 Mafia. Simon would more or less become the adminstirator of Dong¡¯s domain, along with Li and Che.
Darcy Cassetta Born in 196 UC, a female officer who serves under Dong Che. A native from the Perdenes system, most likely from one of the many sprawling planetary settlements itself. She has been described as a quiet child, but went through a rebellious phrase in her early adolescence. Her sopranos voice is remarked as beautiful, and she was groomed to be a singer in her youth. However, she came under scrutiny for refusing naval impressment by pressured colonial authorities sometime in the early 210s¡¯, and resorted to a life on the run. In a strange twist of fate she joined a pirate crew of her own will some years later¡ªthat being the Dong fleet.
Sergi Thalhauser Born in 181 UC, a adjutant to Li Chou aboard the Castelforte. One of the few veterans still alive who have served with the Dong fleet more or less since its conception, or at least after Simon and Zhui murdered their pirate captain. He has at various points been captain of Zhui¡¯s bodyguards and bore witnessed to its highs and lows. Sergi later found a stable position as a adjutant to first Simon when he commanded the Castelforte, then later Li when the former passed it down to her. Sergi¡¯s relationship with Li was rocky at first, whereas Sergi believed she was a helpless pawn of nepotism. As time went on, he grew to respect her commandship and her iron attitude toward her father.
Kamon Hwang From 211 to 215 she was the last governor of Side Brunsb¨¹ttel before a battered Dong fleet crossed into the Toscana region. Rather than resist the fleet, she negotiated a transfer of power over to Simon and Zhui, and has since helped them behind the scenes with intelligence on Federation affairs. Kamon and Zhui took a liking to eachother, which ensured that Kamon could still maintain a government figure and manipulate thing from behind the scenes.
Jargon Leson A lieutenant whom acts as the spirtual leader of the Wulfhere in the absence of Jung Lee. Jargon is a charismatic fellow who never fails to whip the men into a frenzy. He looks up to Jung and thinks very highly of him.
Jean Picot A former lieutenant of the Year 217 Mafia and long-time confidante to Jung Lee. Jean joined the Zhui fleet sometime in the late 200s¡¯, and soon after became affiliated with Jung Lee¡¯s Wulfhere. She eventually grew attached to the man and her youthful puppy love matured into genuine affection for Jung.
Dontae Kleyman A crewmember aboard the Kafraiya, commanded by Captain Emmanuel.
Jung Lee | Wulf Der Ruthenia A famed ex-captain in the Year 217 Mafia, born in the 170s UC. Jung was born in the Hunan region, mostly likely at an Bespo Cluster. His childhood was rater dull and imagination of advnenture was never far from his mind. His father, Jung-won Lee, was the chief ship designer of a major company in the Hunan region. When that company went up in 184, the young Jung noticed his father became reclusive after he was laid off. Owing to the depression in the Ruthenian-Hunan regions, Jung-won was unable to find work and be the bread-winner in his family. Thus leaving the teenaged Jung to work mundane jobs in order to support his family. Jung-won later divorced his mother for a mistress. Jung continued to see his father for a while, but when his mistress also left him, it took a major toll on Jung-won¡¯s mental health and he left the Lee family for Perdenes as a Frankish Legionnaire sometime in 183. Jung never saw his father ever again and he continued to support his mother and younger brother as best as he could. However, the economical depression in the Hunan region continued to worsen and anti-Terran sentiments were growing as a result. In 190, a pirate fleet led by Captain Araki seized control of a Side at Yefren and caused further strain in the Hunan region. Jung, down on his luck and unable to support his sick mother, used this as an opportunity to join the this new pirate fleet with hopes of seeking the money needed to buy the medicine for his mother. However, Jung came to realize this would be in fruitation, when he returned a year later he discovered she had died and his sister was nowhere to be found. While returning to the pirate fleet, a grieving Jung met a Fa Yuriy, and the two quickly became close despite his association with piracy. In the years that followed, Jung rose through the ranks and became one of the top-men along with Simon and Dong Che under the aging Araki. Jung was loyal to Araki, and although he was great friends with Simon he wasn¡¯t fond of Che and initially disapproved of Che and Simon¡¯s plans to mutiny against Araki. Jung was fearful that if Araki was murdered, Fa might get hurt in retatlion by those loyal to him¡ªhe did not have the support of the foot soldiers as Simon and Che did, but if he opposed him it would mean a civil war. Thus, he agreed to support their mutiny if it meant avoiding needless conflict. Jung¡¯s fears were realized when the middle echelons of lieutenants conspired to assassinate all three men after the incident unfolded. A few went to Jung¡¯s residence not knowing he was away, and after brutally murdering Fa Yuriy, proceeded to burn down his home. This act devastated Jung and Simon who both loved her. Jung demanded to execute those that were involved, which Simon sanctioned out of spite and partially as a way to purge Araki¡¯s most diehard followers. In all, it¡¯s likely that over 50 people died or became maimed in a incident known in Hunan as Black Friday. From then on, with nothing else holding him back Jung dedicated his life to the pirate cause and achieved great notoriety as a fleet captain. By the 210s¡¯, the Dong pirate fleet caught the attention of the Metropolitan-Ruthenian eyes and sought to eliminate them. Jung reached the height of his notoriety at the battle of Abassi in 216, where he defended against a Federation assault that was 2:1 and suffered only moderate losses. This battle cemented his infamy across the galaxy as a brillant tactican, along with the emerging Madame Scarface. In reality, Jung would continuously regard Abassi as his greatest failure. He failed to capitalize on a crucial maneuver and squandered many lives and ships. It was through the efforts of Li Chou did the Che fleet manage to annilhate most of the Ruthenian task-force and execute a orderly withdrawal to the Merican region. Jung fell into a depression and became secluded from the others, often speaking only to Simon or Jean. Not long after the fleet crossed into Toscana in 217 did Jung more or less retire from the public and politics of the nascent pirate republic. He met a woman by the name of Frau Moskvina, and she helped him become reinvigorated with newfound purpose. They quietly married after several months of dating, and settled on L¨¹beck at a quiet farmstead.
Emmanuel Leone Born in 158 UC, Emmanuel was a die-hard supporter of captain Shin Araki even in the early days when they were both mere sailors. Emmanuel had been pressed into service by the precursor to the MSN, the Near Orbital Semi-militarized Police (NOSP) task-force commissioned to oversee the escalating Kongriega protests in the 170s. By 181, Emmanuel defected to a pirate ship delivering contraband and weapons to Perdenes colonies. Sometime in 183, Emmanuel met and became acquainted with Shin Araki, who used his growing influence to stage a violent mutiny. Emmanuel¡¯s knowledge of the largely corrupted NOSP helped the Araki ship gain prestige and money before Bloody Perdenes deescalated some years later, and both the Frankish Legionnaires and NOSP were demobilized almost entirely in the wake of their atrocities becoming public knowledge. In the decade that followed, the Araki ship faded into relative obscurity. Emmanuel eventually fell out of Araki¡¯s favor over future privateer prospects, but still held strong loyalty to the man he called boss. Around the time Zhui and Simon came to prominence, Emmanuel became greatly acquinted with fellow crewmember Richter. Emmanuel, for some reason or another, stood largely on the sidelines as Zhui seized power and the eventual murdering of Araki. After Zhui became the new captain, Emmanuel was placed under brief suspicion of orchestrating the Black Friday reprisals, but Richter¡¯s alibi dropped all scrutiny and eventually he was reinstated in the burgeoning fleet as captain of the Kafraiya.
Clyde Patel Born in 194, Clyde served under Simon for some years when he joined the Mafia in 213. Simon was very impressed with his extensive knowledge of radar technologies and entrusted him to serve Li as the Castelforte¡¯s radar technican, along with Bowen.
Bowen Palol Born in 190, Bown was considered an odd, eccentric fellow by his schoolmates growing up. By 211, Bowen, rather accidentally or intentional, stumbled his way onto a Mafia ship that Simon was operating, and some way or another took over a recently vacant spot as radar operator. Simon was incredibly impressed with his handling and had him transferred to Li¡¯s Castelforte at her annoyance.
Richter Wright Richter was born sometime in 161 or 162 at a Satursol Cluster. He was raised by his family with expectations of becoming a pianist, a hobby in which the young Richter particularly enjoyed and had aspirations for. Having never been enrolled in school, he was instead homeschooled by his grandfather. Richter also enjoyed robotic model kits partly in due to his grandfather¡¯s influence. By 179, both his father and grandfather were selected for the NOSP draft in order to combat early forms of piracy in the era. Richter never saw them again, leaving him to be care for his mother until she died of a pandemic running rampant through Satursol, brought about by traveling merchants from the far hinges of the galaxy. After quarantine ended in 180, Richter packed up his belongings and set sail for Terra, in order to enlist in the Legionnaires. He didn¡¯t make it far, however, as his vessel was stopped and imprisoned by Araki¡¯s ship, a rarity in a cutthroat pirate world. Eventually, Richter joined out of his own free will, but had a negative view of captain Araki for most of the decade. Eventually, Richter met Emmanuel and the two became close friends. As time went on, Richter became increasingly disapproval of Araki¡¯s ruthlessness and silently sanctioned Zhui and Simon¡¯s mutiny from the sidelines. After Fa¡¯s tragic death by reprisal, Richter remained adamant that Emmanuel was innocence. After Black Friday, he was one of the replacement captains after the previous pro-Araki officers were purged. Although he had promising talent, Richter chose to remain on the sidelines in the coming years, but had participated at Abassi where he made a name for himself¡ªthough still overshadowed by the exploits of Li and Jung.
OTHER CHARACTERS
Friederika Trachenberg | Kiki Born on the island of Okinawa in 204 UC. She is the middle child of 3 and the only girl of the bunch. Her family later moved to the Australia Continent, where she met and befriended Victoria. She is more or less the older sister type to Victoria and helps herself to teasing her at any given opporunity, ranging from her boyish hobbies to teasing her about relationship stuff. Friederika by 711pan
Paul Plotte Younger brother of Prince Plotte born in 203 UC in some part of Australia. Complete dork, probably even more of a dork compared to Victoria. He wears thick rimmed glasses and has frizzy afro hair thats pretty out of style. As if following in Victoria¡¯s footsteps he enlisted in the Metropolitan Space Navy and was assigned to the MSN Hualian as part of Commodore Hugo¡¯s mission to the Frankish domains. For reasons unknown, he has by some way or another upset Victoria enough to completely flub his last name every time she pronounces it.
Prince Plotte The eldest Plotte and Paul¡¯s older brother, born in 197 UC to Australian parents. Prince is a Lleutenant aboard the MSN Yilan. He previously saw some limited action in the 216-218 pirate expedtions to Zonal under DeRyck.
Olga Kaiser | de Keyser A member of the Year 217 Mafia and Li Chou¡¯s one and only friend. Born circa 198-199 UC in an Merican Side colony. She lived an orphaned life; never knowing who her parents were or her heritage. She joined the fledging mafia under Dong Zhui sometime in the mid 210s¡¯ and was regarded as peculiar by her peers. Blessed with a spectacle height of over 190 cm (6¡¯0¡±) she towers over just about everyone around her with the exception of perhaps Simon Oliver. As such, she is often nicknamed ¡®Orca¡¯ and, because she never knew her last name, was even given the surname ¡®de Keyser¡¯ or ¡®Kaiser¡¯ meaning emperor in some Eurasian languages. She is strangely overly protective of Li and answers to almost nobody but her. Character sketch of Olga by Vertutame
Vinnie Kuenstler Born in 204 UC in the Valcolis system though she grew up in Side Pella when her family immigrated. Vinnie can be best described as a shy little girl who was taken in by the flamboyance of Alexandra, and it wasn''t long before the two quickly became close friends. Vinnie followed in the footsteps of Alexanda and participated in the exchange program to Terra. She has a big crush on Alexandra.
Nia Spiegal A warrant officer aboard the Federation destroyer Bataan. She is is in her late 20s'' and has red flowing hair. Nia is of either Irish or Scottish descent. She likes to tease Lessau a lot. On that note, her attitude puts off a lot of guys from wanting to date her.
Philipp Lessau | Four-eyes Philipp serves aboard the Federation Destroyer the Bataan as a lowly leading sailor, and mostly attends to the the radar station. He has a bit of history with his superior Nia.
Leon Casavant A warrant officer serving in a bridge staff role aboard the Yilan. Leon has short, dark curly hair and is always seemingly tired. Although he has an eye for detail Leon is usually incredibly lazy outside of duty. Leon has a cat named Garfiel that he smuggled into his YIlan quarters.
Brutus Dubray A confidant to Li Chou and part of the Castelforte. A oversized oaf according to Li, despite his barbaric appearance he is a good-natured person if a little critical at times.
Rocco Burtz The wise guy and self-proclaimed leader of Simon¡¯s three stooges. He is the eldest of three brothers. Born in the 180s, Rocco always looked after his two brothers given they had nothing but each other. They were initially a acting troupe in Merica but turned to a life of petty crime. Eventually, he butted heads with Simon, and Simon was so fond of them that he took them in.
Rami Burtz The middle brother of the Burtz stooges. A year younger than Rocco. When he¡¯s in the presence of a group, he¡¯s more energtic and bubbly. When left by himself or in a hot spot, he tends to start his sentences with stutters. He is slightly more competent than Mark and sometimes acts as the meddler when the two butt heads.
Mark Burtz The youngest Burtz child. The knucklehead of the three stooges. He¡¯s something of a foil to Rocco in that regard, and immature in nature. He is something of a heavy drinker and usually spends his times in pubs across Brunsb¨¹ttel.
Jonathan Churchill | ¡®Il Magnifico¡¯ The legendary Frankish Legionnaire known as ¡®Il Magnifico¡¯, leader of the rogue League Militaire. Jonathan was a career soldier in the Frankish Legion as early as 16 years old. His first few tours of duty were in Bloody Perdenes, where he saw action at some of its most notorious battlegrounds, such as Al-Bawa Qu. After his third tour of duty ended in 186, Jonathan returned to a society shocked and alienated. The young Churchill returned to the Legionnaires and worked his way up the ranks, becoming increasingly disillusioned with the Metropolitan government as time went by. At some point in the 200s¡¯, colonel Jonathan Churchill staged a rebellion with his hardened 19th Corps at Ishtar-Terra, the rebellion spread rapidly to the rest of the Cluster until it and the Lagrange point disappeared off systems.
Terminology, brief lore, and technical details
WARP DRIVE
It was still impossible to travel directly from one planetary system to another. Meaning, one would have to use excessive amounts of energy multiple times to shorten the light-year distance between destinations, and never directly above a system or near its gravitational well. Archival documents imply that warping directly on top of a large body or its gravitational field would cause entrapment possibly followed by vessel destruction (certain demise) if there was no contraption for atmospheric reentry. As such, even with the ¡°perfected¡± system, it was only possible to warp finitely from point to point. The nominal means of travel was by propulsion systems, so warping was seen as a necessary supplement.
NAVIGATIONAL ROUTES
In addition, to properly utilize these new forms of interstellar travel, there was a communal effort of establishing an ever-so-evolving library of navigational routes mapped out between star systems. This was a necessary step. Warping at the right points of space in particular was a good measure in order to not have your vessel be graced with a terrible fate.
SPACE-FARING ENGINES
Most space-faring engines were powered by fusion reactors, which were fed helium-3 ¨C a kind of gas that was depleted by mid 27th-century Terra. As such, before deep space colonization could take off without issue, a constant supply of it was a pressing matter. A mining colony would be established on Luna, where helium-3 was still untapped. Over time, a stream of helium-3 would be shuttled back to the home world for further use.
DETAILS ON O''VERTAME CYLINDERS
Following a grander program to construct the first of many orbital satellites ¨C colloquially referred to as O¡¯Vertame Cylinders ¨C which would become the dwellings for an indefinite amount of the pioneering space-faring generations. These cylinder-shaped stations, usually 6 km in diameter and 28 km long, were capable of becoming almost self-sufficient in agricultural industries and other means of habitual survival. These were colloquially called Clusters with each individual station called a Side with either a unique name or number to distinguish it from others. Their initial shortcomings, however, were the constant obligation of raw materials required to be self-sustainable in other forms of goods that they couldn¡¯t artificially reproduce otherwise. Side colonies are capable of opening or closing parts of their panels to give a view of the stars, or close them as needed in the event of a meteor shower or something similar to avoid damage to the window sections/the Side interior.
SOME DETAILS ON THE TERRAFORMING DEVICE
Humanity would not be shackled in these Sides forever. In later periods of time, a certain device would be conceived to terraform uninhabitable parts of alien worlds into hospitable, fertile lands. These would help solve food crises that would plague older, overcrowded O¡¯Vertame Cylinder communities and also be a source of food for both of them, notwithstanding the terrestrial lovers and their forsaken descendants that chose to remain behind on Terra.
LAGRANGE POINTS
Points in a system (usually two-point systems, think our Moon-Earth or Earth-Sun) where objects can remain indefintely. In real life they are usually desginated L1 through L5. In SotCH, these points are the basis at where Cluster colonies are because of the stability they offer.
SEATO AFTER THE FORMATION OF THE FEDERATION
After the political entity of SEATO was reformed in 2684 AD, the namesake organization saw itself redrawn as the de jure military of Metropolitan Terra until the establishment of the Metropolitan Space Force in c. 213 UC (although a de facto orbital fleet did exist prior). In the pre-Galland era, SEATO was comprised of several surface fleets that patrolled the ruthless Southeast Asia seas, as well as the Indian Ocean, and the eastward Pacific. Before escalation against Amerigo and Asiatic/Indo marauders, this version of SEATO was a volunteer force, but by the time of Galland there was a push for conscription. Before 170 UC, the practice of two-year-long conscriptions was dropped in favor of the return to an all-volunteer force. This historical clause of conscription was enacted in the various anti-piracy campaigns undertaken by the MSF throughout the 210s''. And again to a broader degree in the years 218-219. There was a similar case undertaken by the Ruthenia colonies for their de facto naval forces in the same period.
THE FRANKISH LEGIONNAIRES
Sometime in the early to mid 2nd century UC, there was a growing discontent throughout the Orion Arm¡ªan issue of economical disparity and disproportional representation in Sydney parliament. In some cases, lack of resources and famines paralyzed some Side and planetary settlements. This reached its catalyst peak with colonists in the Greater Sol region¡ªnamely, at Marsol, in the 140s''. There was an outlying fear that this could erupt into an open revolt of Greater Sol, so out of desperate cooperation the historically divided Metropolitan parliament united in a brief coalition to authorize and fund the creation of an interstellar, ground-based paramilitary. As the unrest unrivaled throughout the 140s'', many people from walks of life flocked to the region to fight. Many of these that fought for the Federation journeyed from the Frankish Realms, whose numbers counted for more than 80% of the paramilitary units based in Marsol. Eventually, and because of their tenaciously, this would coin the paramilitary as the Frankish Legionnaires. The Marsol uprising had been quelled by the 150s. Once peace agreements were reached, the service of the young Legionnaire force continued until it was disbanded by the mid 160s. It would later be revived a decade later when social unrest reached its zenith in the Kongriega corridor, specifically in Perdenes, where the upheaval had boiled to a point the conflict was dubbed as Bloody Perdenes. The Legionnaires were reactivated for a second time to keep the situation under control. Bloody Perdenes would last for several years but eventually concluded with a bitter peace between authorities and rebel leaders. It was in Bloody Perdenes that the Legionnaire atrocities were more documented than before. Out of fear of public protests and the increasing influence of Legionnaire commanders, it was again disbanded. Some Frankish veterans moved on to be mercenaries for Ruthenian naval flotillas in the inter years but were reactivated by Metropolitan authorities by the 210s for ship-marine duties.
MAP OF THE GALAXY IMMEDIATELY PRIOR TO THE START OF MEMORIES OF TOSCANA ARC
Chapter 9: Memories of Toscana | For Fame and Glory (1,000 views milestone!)
NEAR THE PLANET OF GASSON, THE FRANKISH DOMAIN
EARLY AUGUST, 220 UC
Our stay near the Clusters at Gasson is spent undergoing many grueling sessions of on-site training. These are done in the form of simulations and strategical planning. At first, these were intended to keep us preoccupied and further accelerate our academic training. To echo the words of those that came before ¡°a bored occupying army with nothing to do is a scary army¡±. These are pre-determined scenarios ranging from suppressing a Frankish destroyer unit gone rogue to being caught in the middle of a full-fledged Frankish revolution, and an invasion from the Kongriega corridor, and so on. At one point, we are given simulation prompts such as joining forces with the Franks in a hypothetical war with Metropolitan Sol. Some of the details around these ranged from being rather simple to elaborate war games. Eventually, these become dull. What was novel at first would become increasingly mundane once results yield predictable results. Among the Yilan¡¯s cadet officers is a yearning for something new, something that gives meaning to our deployment. We start to miss our loved ones back home¡­ everyone is miserable and wants to go home. It becomes a consensus among us that there is no point in being here¡­ if the Franks are not going to revolt, then where is the precious taxpayer money going to? Why would we not join the armada as it undergoes its pirate campaign? Though, for that question, I guess we have a side objective of observing the pirate nests in the Brenaco star zone.
August 10th, 0600 hours, it¡¯s the usual call to muster. Of course, when you¡¯re in a ship drifting in space, it¡¯s kind of hard to distinguish what¡¯s day or night when you¡¯re not looking at your wristwatch. A lot of folks show up grumpy, and for good reason. We have no idea why there happens to be muster when it is supposed to be an R&R day. As we board the shuttles leaving commander Buttermilch¡¯s MSN Yilan we can only wonder what Hugo has in store for us. After we arrive, we drag our feet into the officer''s strategic planning room. After a while, commodore Hugo arrives, and after we salute and come to attention, the Commodore orders us at ease. Hugo takes his seat and begins smoking a cigar, ¡°I imagine you¡¯re all curious why I ordered a summon without prior notice,¡± he pauses, partly to suck on the cigar and probably to confirm our silent acknowledgments before continuing, ¡°I will get this out of the way now. This has nothing to do with amateur war games or any drills for that matter,¡± Hugo says after puffing a few rings of smoke, much to the disgust of some of the younger officers who weren¡¯t broken in by the excessive fumes yet. ¡°No. This is something far more important than any theoretical training,¡± Hugo gives us a smirk ¡°believe me, if I had my way, I wouldn¡¯t force you guys through it but it was necessary. Between you guys and me, I hated that bullshit in my time at the academy. I valued my time in sports,¡± as Hugo continues, I notice some of the senior officers twitching their eyes in unison when Hugo makes that remark ¡°as many of you may not be aware, our liaison officers operating in the south have forwarded us intelligence regarding a developing situation there.¡± ¡°And that is?¡± It is my Yilan CO, Buttermilch, that asks the question. The Commodore shifts in his seat, turning to face the Yilan commander before giving his reply. ¡°A fleet is assembling down there. Our guys weren¡¯t sure at first what they were¡ªpirates, vigilantes¡­ but as more intelligence was squeezed out of the local Frankish garrison, they finally made an important discovery. "They were Toscana pirates. Specifically, the warlord Dong Zhui¡¯s Mafia regime.¡± Toscana pirates? Mafia regime? From what I remember, we have very little knowledge of them. We were sometimes given snippets on them during our planning exercises: vicious barbarians who terrorized the Merican regions and are led by the larger-than-life figure, Dong Zhui, along with the fearsome Madame Scarface that serves under him. But they are never a big factor during the simulations¡ªthe fear of hypothetical war came from across the Kongriega corridor, never the Toscana region, I believe. And yet, still, a chill runs down my spine. Somehow, I know where this is going. There is an unsettling aura in the room as Hugo continues with his briefing and the purple haze of tobacco suffocates us. ¡°Naturally, this makes our Frankish friends feel a bit uneasy¡ªuncomfortable, even,¡± Hugo says with a wave of his hand ¡°I¡¯m sure where I¡¯m getting at is making some of you nervous as well. We don¡¯t want to repeat the troubles our friends are having with the Ruthenia folk by ignoring them in their time of need.¡± Out of the corner of my eye, I notice my Yilan XO, Mazzareli, leaning over to Buttermilch to murmur something. I can¡¯t hear what they exchange, but deep down I suppose all three of us arrived at the same sentiment. Commodore Hugo continues, ¡°¡­Indeed, the liaison officers believe this movement is the springboard for an invasion of the Frankish domain. Naturally, we do not want that to happen,¡± Hugo gestures to a lanky fellow standing at attention at the entrance, ¡°secretary, if you may,¡± Hugo says. With a salute only a mother would love, I watch in total silence as the secretary passes by each attendee to hand out slips of paper. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! When he gets to me, I hold out my hand expecting a copy. But with a stern, scary gaze, he hands it to the girl sitting beside me¡ªa sub-lieutenant and my best friend, Friederika Trachenberg. ¡°Sorry, miss, there is not enough for everyone. Please observe from other¡¯s papers,¡± the secretary says in a condescending tone. I give a nod, but it still kinda stings. It was definitely one of the more thick Francien accents I heard during my time in the Frankish domain, but I understood what he is saying, if barely. ¡°Well then, what¡¯s this all about then, hm?¡± Peeking over Friederika¡¯s shoulder, I skim through the contents since I want to get out of her hair as quickly as I can.
OPERATION LUCKY ALPHONSE
...
SORTIE to VALSPON,
...
INTERCEPT MAFIA FLEET
...
and OCCUPY TOSCANA CLUSTERS¡­
¡­AHEAD of DERYCK¡¯S ARMADA
¡­For FAME and GLORY
¡°Right, sorry about that, Kiki.¡± I scoot back into my seat to give Friederika back personal space. An operation aimed at venturing into the 217 Mafia? It doesn¡¯t seem like a bad plan¡­ but was that last bit, ¡®For fame and glory¡¯ really necessary? Wait a minute¡­ Brenaco. Come to think of it, I didn¡¯t see any mention of it in there. Did I skim too fast? I turn to invade Friederika¡¯s personal space again. But before I can, I look up in time to catch a glimpse of Buttermilch clearing his throat, and standing before his peers. ¡°Commodore Hugo, if I may.¡± Hugo met eyes with his vocal subordinate. ¡°Yes, I noticed something about this situation was bothering you and your lieutenant. What is it, commander Buttermilch?¡± Buttermilch puts the slip of brochure down and turns to present a 3D map of the Frankish domains for the room to see, and points to one of the systems we were all too familiar with in simulation sessions. With another clear of his throat, Buttermilch begins to speak, ¡°regardless of the developing situation with the Mafia fleet, lieutenant Mazzareli and I believe it is imperative to subdue the Brenaco pirate haven first. If we are forced to take initiative against the Toscana mafia, they may take advantage of our absence and raid nearby Frankish settlements. "There is also the issue of them siding with Zhui and striking at us from behind. I also noticed¡ªas many of us did¡ªthere is a distinct lack of the pirate haven in the operation file." There is a murmur of agreements after he concludes. Hugo takes a puff from his cigar and exhales more of the fumes that remind me of the forecast back home. ¡°Commander Buttermilch, is that all you are concerned with? Well then, if nobody else wishes to add anything else. Then allow me to explain some things. ¡°Simply put, there is no reason we will need to worry about Brenaco. Why? Even before our arrival, I was informed by senior government officials they have been surprisingly dormant. As I¡¯m sure many of you have experienced firsthand, the Franks have state-of-the-art anti-ship weaponry installed in their Clusters. I would dare say it is better than the ones installed above our beloved Terra!¡± Hugo lets out a scoff akin to a chuckle before continuing, ¡°if the Brenaco brigands dared sally out they would most certainly be unable to harass their neighbors. ¡°Regarding their possible allegiance with Dong Zhui, I do not believe it is feasible. The liaison officers operating from out of Bordeaux suggested there is no evidence that the 217 Mafia has ever set their eyes beyond their Northern borders. It seems from their theories that the Don has been more interested in consolidating his authority in Toscana than outward expansion. ¡°Furthermore, the Brenaco fleet is estimated to be fairly larger than our size. It would indeed be unfortunate if they dared attack us from behind, but that operates on the assumption they will be aware and are willing to face attrition from Frankish Clusters to challenge us. Not once have they dared to engage us in pitched battle since our time here, either. ¡°That is why I decided to order a preemptive strike against the Mafia forces. I had personally examined the files procured by the liaison officers and determined that their strength is favorable for us to strike at. If we stood by and allowed them to enter the Frankish realms, it would put us more at odds with either force if the Brenaco brigands sided with them¡ªwhich Dong Zhui would certainly want to do, no?¡± Hugo finishes by sucking on his cigar once more. It sounds like a solid counter-argument¡­ but something was nagging at me still. Something wasn¡¯t right and it was making my stomach turn. With another glance at Buttermilch and Mazzareli, it would seem like two of them feel the same way. ¡°Victoria, are you okay?¡± Friederika whispers, glancing over at me out of concern. Being the wonderful friend I am, I lie, of course, and nod. There is a moment of silence before Buttermilch sighs and sits down in his seat. Hugo blows fumes before addressing us, ¡°if that''s satisfactory for you lot, then please return to your flagships to relay the operation plans to your crews. I want the fleet to depart for Valspoon by the 13th.¡± With a final puff of his cigar, he exclaims, ¡°for fame and glory, gentlemen. Dismissed!¡± In the shuttle back to the MSN Yilan, I sit with Friederika in the cramped passenger area. Some of the officers are mildly excited for the things to come. Glancing around, it¡¯s evident others had quietly gone over the facts in their heads too. When I look at my watch again, it was a little past 0900. Maybe it¡¯s not obvious to us now, but I am left to wonder if the assembly of a few lasting a few hours has dictated the flow of history and the fates of thousands. ¡°For fame and glory, huh?¡± I muse, rolling a few of my lockets of hair, Friederika looks at me puzzled. Chapter 10: Memories of Toscana | On Operation Lucky Alphonse
AUGUST 12TH, 220 OF THE UNIVERSAL CALENDAR
ABOARD THE MSN YILAN
The days before the expected departure take a toll on my mental health. Is it eagerness? Uneasiness? Whatever it is, Hugo¡¯s Lucky Alphonse weighed heavily on my mind. From the moment I first got off the shuttle, I headed straight to my living quarters and sacrificed one tree too many to intangible thoughts. But I know I couldn¡¯t coop up in my room forever. Eventually, like Friederika will start to worry about me. And worry leads to being checked in on, and that would mean Friederika stumbling around in my minefield of a room, and I would hate for poor little Friederika to become a lost causality in this mess. So sparing her the trouble, I depart from the messy cabin and make my way for to mess hall in order to recover some energy. To my surprise, the mess hall is at its peak today, more than it usually is. Thankfully, the line isn¡¯t slow: nothing makes a starving serviceman more grumpy than slow food service. I managed to retrieve my food and drink quickly and stake out a nice and quiet seat away from the noisy rank and file. I look down at the contents on the yellow plastic tray before me. A chunk of a nicely cooked fillet, some clumps of green vegetables, and a soft biscuit with cheese and ham stuffed into it. Aside from that, I have some soup for the biscuit and a cup of coffee. Honestly, I never cared much for our selection of meat. I¡¯ve heard from others before that it¡¯s a better selection than what civilians might get but I¡¯ve begged to differ. What I always loved was the biscuits and coffee, premium imports from local Frankish settlements. Just as I am about to down the coffee, I hear a familiar, annoying, high-pitched voice from behind. ¡°Well well, if it isn¡¯t the ensign Victoria crawling out of her room!¡± Friederika plops down in the seat next to me and gives me that annoying, but friendly grin. With a glance at her tray, she has several biscuits and a slice of bread accompanying a large bowl of soup. On both sides of her tray are two cups of creamy coffee. I didn¡¯t realize it much until now, but Friederika really likes her coffee. She has a little too much dependency on it, I would think. ¡°You were about to drink pitch-black coffee I take it? Look at you, being all grown up without me. How very mature of you. Here, have some of my creams,¡± Friederika pretends to wipe a tear from her eye and proceeds with handing me a few creamer packets. I take them and help myself with dumping a few into my cup of coffee. As one would expect, the texture changes from pitch black to a more colorful light shade of brown, following a bit of stirring. ¡°Thanks, Kiki, I appreciate it,¡± I say. ¡°My pleasure, that aside¡­¡± Friederika rests her chin on her hands and gives me an uncharacteristically stern look. It occurs to me that Friederika is probably a lot more worried about me than I initially thought. After savoring a bit of coffee, I set the cup down and clasp my hands together. ¡°What is it, Kiki?¡± I ask, hoping she would stop with the piercing gaze, ¡°it¡¯s rare for you to get serious. Are you having boyfriend problems or something?¡± Friederika, trying her best, tries not to crack a smirk. ¡°And it¡¯s pretty cute of you to make humorous jabs. What¡¯s been on your mind? If you overthink things like that all the time with such a frowning face then it will be hard for you to get a man when your face gets all wrinkly, you know,¡± she muses, taking a sip from one of her coffee cups. And in Friederika terminology, it¡¯s more like a giant gulp. Not your usual, everyday sip. I let out a sigh and poke one of the nicely cut fillet slices with a fork. Honestly, I¡¯m not sure how to answer. Or rather, I don¡¯t know how to express it properly. ¡°It¡¯s about the operation tomorrow,¡± I finally say ¡°I¡¯ve been feeling anxious about it. If I have to be frank with you, it¡¯s about all I¡¯ve been thinking about the last couple of days.¡± As I spoke, Friederika wraps her hands around one of the cups of coffee, giving it subtle rubs. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. I suppose she has been nervous about it too, which would be understandable. No person in their right mind wouldn¡¯t be nervous about the upcoming operation. Unless you were a war nut, then you would finally have something to look forward to. Some action to get you excited, even the implication of such action involved ending the life of another human. ¡°Something about this whole situation seems off. I can¡¯t get the shaking feeling that we¡¯re playing into a trap,¡± I remark. Friederika looks up at me with a curious brow. ¡°A trap? What do you mean?¡± Friederika inquires. ¡°If it¡¯s true what commodore Hugo said,¡± I answer ¡°isn¡¯t it odd that the Mafia would only just now organize a fleet sometime after we arrived? And smaller than our own at that. It wouldn¡¯t make sense for them to launch an offense, right?¡± I finish by stuffing one of the sticky clumps of cheese broccoli into my mouth. Friederika seems to ponder the question for a bit while munching on one of the biscuits and washing it down with a cup of coffee. She glances around the mess hall to see if anyone has happened to overhear us. ¡°What you''re basically getting at is,¡± Friederika says, waggling her fork at me ¡°you believe the Mafia''s fleet activity in the Valspon system is not the preface to an act of aggression, but rather an act of defense?" I give a nod as affirmation. She continues, "have you shared this with commander Buttermilch? Or Mazzareli for that matter?¡± I shake my head in response. There¡¯s no way either of them would listen to some petty ensign about this. Even if they did, the possibility of it reaching Chal¡¯s ears was next to none, and zero chance of him deliberating on it. The planned operation is tomorrow, of course. It would cause a commotion among the eager troops if he, at most, postponed it indefinitely. Though, that wouldn''t exactly be a bad thing, right? It wouldn¡¯t hurt to postpone Lucky Alphonse until we could secure more manpower from Metropolitan Sol. But then, an even better idea crosses my mind. ¡°There¡¯s no way commodore Chal would change his mind about it in time,¡± I reply ¡°but that got me thinking. It was mentioned in the operations file that he wanted to secure his side of Toscana ahead of rear admiral DeRyck, right?¡± We both took a few bites out of our meals, and after I clear it down with some coffee, I continue bouncing my thoughts off Friederika with my thoughts. ¡°But he¡¯s on the other side of the Orion Arm¡ª¡± ¡°And it would take some time before we can communicate with him, yes?¡± Friederika finishes the sentence for me. Well, it was mostly what I was getting at. I have no idea if Chal even notified DeRyck or Garofano but given the circumstances, it¡¯s reasonable to believe he didn¡¯t. This does make me wonder if any of them had established a plan to synchronize an attack on Toscana when we were still on Terra, but I doubt it. ¡°What did you want to do, then?¡± I dip the biscuit sandwich into what remains of the soup and take a few bites out of it before I answer. It is a bit impolite to talk while you eat, after all. ¡°I was interested in doing a little war game for Lucky Alphonse,¡± mimicking Friederika, I point my fork at the dark-haired sub-lieutenant, ¡°and you¡¯re going to help me with it, Kiki.¡± Chapter 11: Memories of Toscana | Wargames
THE MSN YILAN¡¯S TACTICAL OPERATIONS ROOM
Friederika and I face each other at opposite ends of the room. A table fills up the space between us, leaving just enough room to allow for the flow of traffic on either side. At first glance, it looks like a normal, black table¡ªbut when I reach out and give it a touch, it flashes a pale blue, projecting a holographic overlay into the air. Oh, how wonderful science is! ¡°Ensign Happ, here is your tablet. And yours as well, sub-lieutenant Trachenberg,¡± the officer accompanying us states. Coming back to my senses, I take the gray tablet from the man and power it on.
Initializing¡­
Loading all modules¡­
Computing scripts¡­
Syncing with the mainframe system¡­
When it is finishes doing its thing, the familiar blue light glows on my face. I am presented with several options.MOCK BATTLES
MOCK BATTLES
IMPORT LIVE FEED
OPTIONS
I select the first option, MOCK BATTLES, then the screen refreshes with a new set of options.
QUICK MOCK BATTLE
ADVANCED MOCK BATTLE
DYNAMIC SANDBOX CAMPAIGN
During the period where we were tasked with academic war games, we found ourselves familiarizing ourselves with this system. There¡¯s a lot of junior officers aboard the Yilan, so we took turns for one-on-one sessions while the rest watched. Our instructors encouraged us to take notes and observe how others did certain things. But I just liked the cool polygonal ships shooting at each other. Come to think of it, this is more or less the same system that they used back at Canberra academy. Though I¡¯d say the only difference between the two is the presentation. The system here allows you to be more mobile and look at formations from different angles. Whereas the academy has a life-size model ship bridge that you command your fleet from with the use of a control panel installed into its podiums. The only downside to that was you couldn¡¯t move around too much while in it, which I suppose is much like being on a real bridge in the heat of battle. QUICK MOCK BATTLE has a limited scope of options tailored for quicker simulations. ADVANCED MOCK BATTLES I think it allowed for a wider array of options that you could customize to your heart¡¯s content but was still only limited to one engagement. The DYNAMIC SANDBOX CAMPAIGN was more of the same. What set it apart, however, was you could have persistent battles so it was more or less designed to imitate a real military operation. For some of the more elaborate war game scenarios, we went with the sandbox campaign one. ¡°Victoria, which one are we doing again?¡± Friederika asks from across the room ¡°I take it we¡¯re doing the Dynamic Sandbox option?¡± ¡°No, actually,¡± I remark ¡°I want to do a few advanced mock battles for now.¡± We both select ADVANCED MOCK BATTLE and are presented with a cluttered menu of overwhelming presets, among other options. For all of humanity¡¯s progressiveness, streamlining certain features was apparently not on our agenda. ¡°So how are we doing this?¡± Friederika asks again ¡°you want to be the Federation forces, or¡­?¡± For factions, there aren¡¯t any to speak of. You can choose between the all-mightily Federation of Sol or the all-encompassing OPFOR. ¡°I¡¯ll be taking the role of OPFOR¡ªrather, the Toscana Mafia,¡± I answer. I then look over the settings and select OPFOR. The rest of the settings, as numerous as they were, were related namely to fleet composition and numbers. ¡°Oh, uh, lieutenant¡­?¡± My voice trails off. Frankly, I forgot his name. I¡¯ve never been good at getting acquainted with anyone but Friederika. The lieutenant is with Friederika assisting her with the tablet. He looks up at me with a look of annoyance. ¡°Plotte,¡± the lieutenant says, calmly. ¡°Right. Pluto,¡± I say, ¡°once the two of you are done flirting, I would like it if you could set Kiki¡¯s flotilla composition to something that reflects commodore Chal¡¯s naval strength. With that said, I would like the intelligence we have on hand regarding the Mafia¡¯s force at Valspon.¡± Despite a grunt, lieutenant Plotte excuses himself from the room to retrieve the files, leaving us alone. Friederika comes over to give me a friendly hip bump. ¡°Someone has gotten a little jealous I¡¯m mingling with someone else, hmm?¡± Friederika muses, grinning. ¡°Someone has to keep you in check. You¡¯re almost a lieutenant, it embarrasses me when I¡¯m around you and you¡¯re hitting on guys,¡± I remark matter-of-factly. ¡°Loosen up a little,¡± Friederika sneers back ¡°you¡¯re never going to score a boyfriend if you¡¯re so stiff like that.¡± Before I can say anything in protest, Plotte returns with a folder of files. Kiki lets out a sigh and winks at me as she returns to her side of the table. I thank the Lieutenant and open the file to examine the documents. After giving it an initial flip-through I am thankful it¡¯s not too thick because otherwise ,I would be here forever. Since the operation is tomorrow we don¡¯t exactly have the leisure of time.
HEADQUARTERS at SIDE BRENA, PREBUAN SYSTEM
G-1 REPORT on SPECULATIVE STRENGTH of VALSPON PIRATES
I skim through the first couple pages and find a lot of statistics and scribbled notes by the liaison officers on top of statements written in a local Frankish language. From the gist of it, both seemed to believe the total strength numbered a little under two hundred vessels. ¡°So¡­ I¡¯m not working with much, huh?¡± I say, dryly. I look up upon hearing a notification that Friederika has finished setting up her force, and my gaze shifts to her naval strength.
''FEDERATION'' FORCE
412 WARSHIPS
20 AUXILIARY VESSELS
From the difference in numbers, it¡¯s easy to tell why commodore Chal would want to make a move into Valspon. It¡¯s more or less set in stone how predictable the simulations¡ªand the upcoming operation¡ªwill go. However, that is why I am here, and why I dragged Friederika into this last-minute war game. I hope that we can catch the attention of the senior officers¡ªand prove to them about the shortcomings of Lucky Alphonse. From there, I can only hope it will trickle up the chain of command and convince Chal to withdraw out of Toscana with minimal casualties. I can hear Kiki tapping her foot from across the room. Right, I need to get back to the subject at hand. I swiftly input approximate naval numbers into the system and tap on the READY button once I finish. After a single jingle, I look up to reaffirm my choices.
¡®OPFOR¡¯ FORCE
180 WARSHIPS
40 AUXILIARY VESSELS
Under any other circumstances, these ratios are a little unfair. But in a real-life scenario, it¡¯s favorable for us. ¡°Alright, Kiki,¡± I say ¡°are you ready?¡± With an affirmative reply, the two of us tap BEGIN. We wait for the system to materialize the numerous polygons that represent individual ships. After it finishes, we begin conducting our little wargame. Given my strength, it would be impossible to provide a solid defense of any kind. In a real-life situation, it would be ideal to harass the enemy as you execute a withdrawal to a friendly system, preferably with allied troops in it, and either counterattack with those reinforcements or assault a less defended system. At least, that¡¯s always how I¡¯ve done things in mock bottles. This is only a singular battle mode, however, so it would only be doable in the sandbox campaign. As such, you have to more or less fight to the death¡ªthough, in any game mode there¡¯s an annoying mechanic where units have morale. If your ships see too many losses in their sector then they tend to retreat unless you try to balance it out by inflicting losses on the enemy. I should have discretely turned it off in the options, but I didn¡¯t think to do it until now. There¡¯s also the optional objective of eliminating all of the enemy¡¯s auxiliary ships. Without supplies, a fleet can¡¯t operate at full capacity in enemy territory, and thus will automatically fail based on the idea that the fleet will starve and run out of ammunition. There¡¯s probably an argument to be made about the inability to loot enemy ships or settlements for supplies but I¡¯m not the one who designed the mechanics of the system. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. ¡°¡­Vicky¡­ earth to Vick¡­¡± ¡°Wha¡­? Huh?¡± I utter, blinking. I¡¯m so lost in my train of thought that I am only partly following the flow of the war game. Kiki¡¯s Federation forces have engaged the bulk of my force and my poor pirates were in the process of being half enveloped by her other squadron. While keeping my cool, I order the ships not yet engaged to retreat to the nearest polygonal cylinder representing Side colonies and hope to wear down her Federation force there. I would use the Side batteries as a clutch and tip this around¡ª ¡±Hmm? Trying to run away? I don¡¯t think so!¡± Friederika says rather confidently. Alas, it wasn¡¯t meant to be. Nearly all the auxiliary ships scrambling to the safety of the Side colony dissipate into pixel dust. With so many inflicted casualties, this triggers a chain reaction of my beloved little pirates disengaging and then retreating to the edges of the holographic map. The holographic blue aura changed to a red hue, signaling that the simulation is over and that I have lost. I shrug, accepting it has happened. They should retreat to fight another virtual day rather than face the prospect of utter virtual destruction. ¡°You¡¯re about a thousand years too early to beat me, Vic!¡± Frierderika pumps out her chest in triumph in typical Friederika bragging fashion. ¡°It¡¯s only been one battle,¡± I say cooly, ¡°you¡¯re celebrating too early. Save it for when you win a few dozen or so.¡± ¡°Ohh?¡± Friederika sneers ¡°do you want to challenge me some more? Fine, feed into my ego!¡± We go for a few more rounds. In between each one, I did small adjustments to my navy strength but each time my efforts are rebuked. There is, however, one scenario where I did win. In that one, I committed only a single destroyer squadron and a handful of auxiliary ships in tow to engage the fleet of the overly confident Friederika. To my surprise, she zealously takes the bait by committing half her fleet to chase it to the ends of the holographic map. This left her auxiliary ships guarded by only two squadrons worth of warships, around one hundred and sixty in total. The rest of my fleet is near the Side present on the map. ¡°Bwaha!¡± I say scornfully ¡°you fell for such a cheap trick!¡± ¡°Eh??¡± Friederika utters in confusion. Capitalizing on her shock, I move in with my fleet and reduce hers to meager polygon space debris. The resulting hue changes to red. From across the room, Friederika lets out a hearty laugh. ¡°Wow! You got me. I got too ahead of myself there, good job.¡± her grin turns to a frown and she crosses her arms under her breasts, ¡°so what¡¯s the plan now? It seems we¡¯re attracting quite a crowd.¡± I¡¯m so engrossed in the mock battles that I finally glance around. Sure enough, there is a small but growing crowd of officers and enlisted personnel watching two amateurs duke it out over fictional Valspon. In the back, I can see our XO¡ªlieutenant commander Mazzareli¡ªwith his arms crossed and piercing eyes. This was my chance to get my point across for Lucky Alphonse. ¡°Ahem!¡± I pat my chest ¡°I think we should do a sandbox campaign now,¡± I turned to lieutenant Plotte, ¡°ah, Lieutenant...ah¡­ Pluto, do we have any records of the combat capacity of the 217 Mafia from back when they were still in the Merica region?¡± Although irritated I slipped on his name, Plotte has to think a bit, but nods and disappears into the crowd. While he is gone, we back out of the ADVANCED MOCK BATTLE lobby and select DYNAMIC SANDBOX CAMPAIGN. Friederika goes ahead and inputs the same information as before for her Federation faction. The purpose of getting the Merican records is to get enough data to model a Valspon relief force scrambling from central Toscana¡ªL¨¹beck, most likely. Although the records will be a few years old, it would still give me a good grasp of what to work with. ¡°Ensign Happ-Schwarzenberger, your requested files,¡± lietueant Plotte states, presenting me the files. ¡°Thank you, lieutenant Pluto, I greatly appreciate it,¡± I take the folder and give the contents a quick run-through. ¡­Interesting, piecing together all the separate skirmishes the Merican authorities encountered, the total strength would total out to around¡­ five hundred? No, that can¡¯t be right. With a force that size, the 217 Mafia presence in Merica would have persisted. Heck, their sphere of influence in the Merica region could have lasted longer against an allied coalition of Ruthenian-Merican forces¡­ or even incursions by Metropolitan Sol. This is all hypothetical of course. On the other hand, I think it would make sense for the Don to withdraw and consolidate his power in Toscana. Argh, I¡¯m getting too off track! If we factor in the relative strength of the Valspon flotilla, I think it¡¯d be realistic to say there are around four hundred warships. Furthermore, if I assume that the Don is keeping tabs on vice admiral DeRyck while he¡¯s maneuvering through southern Ruthenia, he¡¯d want to maintain an active defensive stance along the Rouen corridor too. I imagine the Don is in a precarious situation right now. His best bet would likely be having a strategic reserve that could respond quickly to the first signs of trouble. I believe that the strength of it could be between two hundred to three hundred ships. Unless¡­ It¡¯s also possible there is no strategic reserve, right? It would be rather risky for the Don to divide his already small manpower and leave only token forces at the front lines. In the chance scenario that DeRyck and Chal attacked simultaneously, the Don would have to sacrifice one front for the other and ultimately crumble under the Federation¡¯s wrath. The sound of Friederika¡¯s voice once again reeled me back to reality. ¡°Oi, Victoria, how big should we make the campaign?¡± ¡°Oh, right yeah.¡± The length of a campaign is determined by how many systems you wish to include. It can range from as few as two systems to most of the Orion Arm. In the latter¡¯s case, the primary motives behind these are to occupy the enemy¡¯s political capital and force them to capitulate in a reasonable timetable. I think I only ever saw one instance of a mega campaign back at the academy between senior students. ¡°Let¡¯s keep it short and simple,¡± I remark ¡°we¡¯ll only do L¨¹beck, Valspon, and possibly Ides.¡± ¡°Why Ides?¡± Friederika asks, cocking her head. I give her a coy wink. ¡°What was it that you said before, a woman never reveals her secrets?¡± The crowd chuckles. I don¡¯t think I ever saw Friederika so flustered before. It¡¯s a pretty rare sight indeed. If I had a camera on me I would¡¯ve treasured it forever. ¡°That aside¡­ shouldn¡¯t we also include the Velksland system?¡± Friederika asks, but I only shake my head. ¡°I believe we should leave it out of the equation,¡± I say ¡°it would be rather difficult to stimulate two fronts at once¡ªthis is just assuming that DeRyck is even staked out in the Rouen corridor at all. Even if he is,¡± I pause, uncertain, rubbing my chin, ¡°I don¡¯t think either of us can manage a fight over there as well when we don¡¯t know DeRyck¡¯s total strength.¡± From the corner of my eye, I could see my XO and CO conversing about something.¡ª Wait, my XO and CO? I continuously blinked to reprocess that process. Commander Buttermilch is here? Oh, it¡¯s my turn to be put on the spot. The blood rushes to my cheeks as I suddenly realize just how embarrassing it is to have so many eyes on us at once. I kept waiting for this moment but now that it¡¯s here I feel like a helpless lamb. ¡°That sounds fair to me,¡± Friederika says ¡°it would be pretty time-consuming, wouldn¡¯t it? If only we could flip the hourglass!¡± Good god. Friederika could not make a more lame jab even if her life depended on it. But at least she eased the mood for a bit, I knew I could always count on her. With trembling hands, I input all the required information into my tablet regarding the Mafia¡¯s naval strength.
VALSPON SYSTEM STRENGTH
195 WARSHIPS
40 AUXILIARY SHIPS
I finish with a single tap and the information reflects on the holographic table. And as for my strategic reserves¡­
L¨¹BECK SYSTEM STRENGTH
330 WARSHIPS
120 AUXILIARY SHIPS
The screen above, however, would show the fields as interrogation marks. This is meant to indicate that Friederika¡¯s Federation force does not have the intelligence to know what my reserve strength is and is thus fog of war so to speak. ¡°Alrighty then,¡± Friederika declares, rather triumphantly ¡°are you ready, ensign Happ-Schwarzenberger?¡± I give a firm smirk. ¡°Ready to put you in your place, sub-lieutenant Trachenberg.¡± With my hands still trembling, I press the READY button as firmly as I can. No matter what it takes, I¡¯ll convince you all operation Lucky Alphonse is doomed to fail! Chapter 12: Memories of Toscana | Wargames part 2
A FEW HOURS EARLIER IN THE MESS HALL
¡°Eh? You want to do a war game?¡± Friederika asks in surprise ¡°right before the beginning of the operation? Commander Buttermilch might want us to be in general quarters at a given notice.¡± ¡°I¡¯m aware,¡± I say, running my finger on the rim of my coffee cup, ¡°but I doubt they would announce general quarters this early. We still have at least half a day¡¯s worth after all. Besides,¡± I finished the remainder of my food and stood up for a much-needed stretch, ¡°it¡¯s not just one war game. We¡¯ll be doing a few rounds at least.¡± ¡°And what do you hope to accomplish with this?¡± Friederika asks, finishing the rest of her biscuits. ¡°If we get a big enough crowd,¡± I start ¡°we¡¯ll get our superiors'' attention. Then, we can convince commander Buttermilch that this operation is doomed to fail.¡± Fredericka gives me a look of uncertainty. Well, it¡¯s less uncertain and more like she is gazing at a crazy person. She crosses her arms with a sigh. ¡°And how is that going to change anything?¡± She asks, frowning. ¡°You¡¯re starting to irritate me with all these questions. Who was it that said guys don¡¯t like persistence?¡± We both let out a laugh, ¡°no, but seriously, Kiki,¡± I put a hand on her shoulder ¡°I need you to give it your best. Don¡¯t go easy on me. As much as I would want you to let me win, we need to actually convince Buttermilch with our best effort.¡± ¡°Okay¡­¡± she mutters ¡°but don¡¯t get mad at me later for crushing your spirits. I don¡¯t want you down in the dumps for when the operation actually starts.¡±
BACK AT THE PRESENT IN THE MSN YILAN¡¯S TACTICAL OPERATIONS ROOM
Perhaps it is because of uneasiness. Or maybe it¡¯s stress from the piercing gaze of the crowd, but the two of us¡ªFriederika and me¡ªplayed our opening moves rather safely. Maybe we played it a bit too safe. But that isn¡¯t what I¡¯m aiming for. If we play too safe, we would be wasting all this time for nothing. Buttermilch wouldn¡¯t be convinced that this operation will be in vain. Luckily, once our forces make contact and engage, the simulation becomes less predictable and takes on a more fluid form. Or at least mine does I break concentration and look up from my tablet at the holographic display. The units representing Friederika¡¯s forces advance at a slower pace than usual. I shift my attention to Friederika. She¡¯s gripping her tablet intensely and looks deep in thought. What is she doing? Is she hesitating? Waiting for me to make some moves perhaps? It¡¯s uncharacteristic for Friederika to not be more aggressive. Usually, she would try for an encirclement by now¡­ Wait, maybe she¡¯s expecting me to predict that? Is she tripped up on how to progress because of that? Our battle lines are still in the early stages. Well, I say battle lines, but¡­ Considering I¡¯m still dwarfed in numbers, it¡¯s more like the ¡°battle lines¡± are my few squadrons fighting a defensive skirmish against two individual Federation squadrons. The rest of her flotilla is shadowing the vanguards in combat, possibly waiting to envelop me. For that reason, I wouldn¡¯t be able to maintain it for much longer. Even if I did manage to knock out the squadrons I¡¯m engaging, the rest of Friederika¡¯s flotilla will finish me off. I need to at least preserve my force in Valspon so I can get the upper hand in numbers. But I also need to make a move on Friederika, or this will end prematurely through attrition. Something to make her react to and get the ball rolling. Currently, any potential reinforcements from L¨¹beck are on a cooldown timer. What this means is, I have a set amount of time before I can call in a relief force if I so desire. Even if Friederika keeps this passive play up, I won¡¯t last long from attrition. I could abandon Valspon itself and force Friederika to decide between either dividing her Federation force or continue to the capital as one entity. But that¡¯s all for later. For now, I need to give Friederika a little encouraging push. ¡°What was it that you told me before¡­ hmm,¡± I tap my lip and squint at Friederika ¡°¡¯a man doesn¡¯t like a woman who doesn¡¯t know what she wants¡¯?¡± ¡°Why you¡­¡± Friederika grits her teeth, ¡°I¡¯ll make you eat those words!¡± Well, it¡¯s not exactly what she said in the past. There might have been a few liberties there. The battle lines, for what they are, began to gradually shift. Friederika begins to utilize her reserves for pincer attacks which cause my losses to mount, and it becomes increasingly hard to plug in holes in the line. Hmm, did the taunt work a little too well? I admit it was a little lame. But I didn¡¯t think she would overreact this much. It¡¯s like I flipped a switch on a killer robot hell-bent on destruction. Friederika¡¯s newfound aggression forces me to repeat the woes of our past games. I¡¯m forced to undertake the cowardly process of retreat. ¡°All bark and no bite, aren¡¯t we?¡± I heard that dreaded sneer from across the table. I¡¯m sure if our superiors weren¡¯t here, things would certainly get more heated. Typically, I would¡¯ve holed up in the Side colony and waited it out with my whole force. Then it would simply be a matter of waiting until I can call in the relief force and force Friederika into a two-front battle. But as I order my units to garrison inside the colony, an even better idea comes to mind. One of Friederika¡¯s rear squadrons, isolated from the rest of the flotilla, is merrily making its way to my side of the holographic map. If I have to guess, she¡¯s planning on securing the hyper lane to L¨¹beck. Back at the academy, I remember ¡°spawn camping¡± was considered a scummy move that was frowned upon. On the other hand, in a real-life scenario, warping into an active combat zone is tantamount to disaster. So you were better off advancing along a hyper lane with traditional engines. But unlike real life, those games don¡¯t have the luxury of being manned by humans. What would often happen is when you warp in reinforcements to the outskirts of the battlefield, your crooked opponent would have at least one squadron docked at the warp entrance. This results in them(the reinforcements) getting shredded because it takes the ai a couple of seconds to realize yes, we are getting turned into swiss cheese. Because of its high rate of success, the practice was nominally banned by the senior students at the academy. But it ran rampant in the freshmen and sophomore classes. In the hundreds of years of technological breakthroughs, game artificial intelligence is another thing to add to the list of not being on humanity¡¯s agenda. I couldn¡¯t allow that to happen, of course. Although realistically, it is something that commodore Hugo would think about doing to establish a warning line, given a scenario where Valspon does not fall immediately. Selecting the furthest squadron, I try to discreetly avoid the Federation squadron hot on its tail, praying that Friederika isn''t paying attention to that particular unit. See, the downside of having too few units is also my plus. I don¡¯t have to focus on as many units as Friederika does. Since I can easily focus on two units alone, Friederika has to divide her attention all along the front. But I¡¯d say it¡¯s a double-edged sword for me at least. One wrong move can mean the elimination of one squadron and it¡¯ll be over for me, even if I gain the reinforcements in time. Hmm, it seems Friederika is making the biggest rookie mistake of forgetting to utilize the attack move stance. A unit in attack move stance will attempt to fight any units found in their line of sight as they make their way to their destination. I don¡¯t blame her though. For some reason, the geniuses who designed this system never thought to put them as a default stance, so it often gets overlooked by most junior officers. Good for me. Bad for the future of our Navy¡¯s leadership. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Both of the Federation squadrons sandwiching my outward squadron don¡¯t seem to be in this stance. When all three have briefly intersected, neither of Friederika¡¯s squadrons have engaged in combat. Thankfully, because of my forgetfulness, mine aren¡¯t in attack move stance either. So what plays out is three squadrons hostile to each other moving in peace. Such beautiful harmony. I have to wait for the one heading for the Side colony to be out of relative combat range before I can pounce on the other squadron heading for the L¨¹beck hyper-lane point. Oh, yeah, the Side colony sector. I kind of put it off to focus on the Federation rear squadron maneuver. Before shadowing the rear squadron, I have the squadron heading for the Side colony hide behind it rather than garrison inside it. Unlike the other two squadrons, the rest of Friederika¡¯s flotilla is, in fact, in attack move formation, and it begins to show. Technically, I used to have two and a half squadrons. But after the initial beatings from Friederika¡¯s force, I am left with basically two and some more. So I end up being forced to merge the remnants of the third squadron into the Side-centric one. If I decide to garrison inside the colony, then it means having virtually no flexible defensible options. Mainly, if I risk breaking out of the siege then the squadron will suffer enormous casualties and possibly cause a shattered rout. No, not possibly. That¡¯s what will happen. There is no doubt about it. I can¡¯t afford to lose this squadron¡ªnever mind the importance of the other one shadowing the sleazy rear Federation squadron. Losing my fighting capacity at the Side colony means losing the linchpin for a two-front battle line. On the opposite end of the Side colony is, so far, a single idle Federation squadron. I take it Friederika is waiting for the rest of her flotilla to complete an encirclement? There is still some distance that the rest of her fleet needs to cover before she can do it. I could circle and attack it from the side for some real damage. But that¡¯s a bit risky since she can return the favor when my squadron finishes the loop to the Side¡¯s backside. I scratch my head and feel a lot of wetness between my fingers. Naturally, I give my hand a look over and¡­ wow, I didn¡¯t realize I am sweating this much! I hear a few guys behind me try to stifle some chuckles, and my gaze turns to Friederika who is resisting the temptation of throwing out yet another one of her verbal insults. ¡°Getting all hot and bothered over there taking in my beauty, are we?¡± Friederika lets out a hearty chuckle, ¡°don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll end this so swiftly you¡¯ll be in the showers having a shower thought before you know it!¡± Friederika¡­ I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m going to do with you sometimes. Your jokes are so lame it makes even ugly ducks cry. Like an overconfident gambler carelessly pushing in all of his chips, Friederika advances her squadrons to the Side colony. Friederika is finally aiming to encircle it. If I don¡¯t act fast, I¡¯ll be doomed once my squadron there has no place to run to. ¡°Ngh¡­!¡± At the same time, neither of us are keeping any attention on the rearguard squadron. ¡­Hm? Oh. My puny little squadron has obliterated the rear squadron there. I didn¡¯t intend on destroying it, though, it has more uses to me alive rather than dead. I was hoping to call out Friederika on it and split her force up, but this kinda changes up things now. Oh well, there¡¯s always room for improvising. ¡°Oi¡­ Kiki, are you maybe¡­,¡± I pause to crack a grin, ¡°forgetting about something?¡± ¡°Hmm? What do you mean?¡± Friederika asks, rather innocently. Perfect. ¡°I don¡¯t mean to lead you on, but¡­¡± Friederika looks confused, but finally realizes what I am getting at. She curses in silence and diverts three of the nearest squadrons to confront it. Which means¡­ Only two are still facing the Side, and the rest have their backs turned to it. Friederika is so caught up on the rear that she didn¡¯t even reposition either of them to cover the latter¡¯s departure. This isn¡¯t exactly the opportunity I had in mind, but it¡¯s as good an opportunity as any. It¡¯s now or never! The squadron still hiding behind the Side colony sallied out and unleashes a fiery polygonal barrage on the departing squadrons, then presses forward to flank the other two. From across the room comes a distressed groan, and small applause from the room follows suit. My cheeks flush with red again. ¡°But that¡¯s not all! I think it¡¯s time for the grand finale¡ª¡± I strike the most pretentious pose I could think of, just to rub it in Friederika¡¯s face, ¡°and with it, the downfall to your overconfidence!¡± I couldn¡¯t let Friederika steal all the glory of being a lame duck after all. It¡¯s okay for me to act silly too, right? I firmly press the button that lets me call in the reinforcements from L¨¹beck, and after a few more taps, place their predicted deployment down on the map. Now, it¡¯s only a matter of time before I win. Though with all my eggs now in one basket, there¡¯s always a possibility of error and Friederika turning this situation around. As long as there¡¯s a will, there will always be a way. I admit, I probably am getting a little too overconfident myself. It would be tragic if I got hoist by my own petard, and I would forever live with Friederika teasing me over this until we grow old and die. That is, if we even survive this campaign¡­ Friederika frantically tries to regroup her flotilla. If she manages to do that, then it will be game over for me. I¡¯m only getting three additional squadrons, which would put my strength just a little over three hundred strong. It¡¯s still a hundred or so less than what Friederika has. Luckily, my squadrons are doing a good enough job of harassing her that she is unable to successfully link up. Just in time too, since my virtual squadrons finally come into the fray. ¡°How the tides have turned, hmm?¡± Now it¡¯s my turn to give her a sneer. I receive only a cold scoff in true Friederika fashion. Soon enough, I trap three of Friederika¡¯s squadrons in a textbook example of encirclement. To my added surprise, there are a handful of auxiliary ships in it, too¡­ unless that¡¯s all of it? No, that couldn¡¯t be. Friederika wouldn¡¯t be that foolish to put herself in a corner like that. Should I be merciful and widen the width so Friederika can break out? It would be disheartening to end it like this, but¡­ I met eyes with Buttermilich, if only for a split second. I need to prove my point. All this would be for waste otherwise. The pocket grows gradually smaller. Friederika becomes increasingly desperate. In a nearby sector, she has fallen for my bait of diverting manpower against the lone squadron that had successfully broken out of its partial Side siege from earlier. She commits two squadrons initially, but it proves fruitless with the cat and mouse chase that unfolds. Friederika proceeds to disengage one¡ªusing the other as its cover so she wouldn¡¯t make the same mistake twice¡ªand attempts to relieve the pocket. It¡¯s too little and too late. A couple of her squadrons begin flashing, a telltale sign of a unit¡¯s morale being shattered. By the time the relief squadron arrives, it¡¯s a doomed outcome. It¡¯s rebuffed by several of mine, until its models too, begin slowly flashing. Despite my expectations, though, I¡¯m unable to deliver the killing blow on the auxiliary units. Friederika¡¯s desperateness pays off there, at least. Using both the remaining pocket squadron and the relief one, she¡¯s able to sacrifice a few of her ships so that they could get through to the other side. In the other sector, my squadron puts up its white flag and disappears into the polygonal abyss... or what remains of it anyway. The glimpse I have of it before it goes into the void numbers only several or so left. I give it a brief salute; they did their best against the odds. But it will not be vain! ¡°Now then, Kiki¡­¡± I mutter. The tables are more or less flipped now. She has two squadrons¡ªonly one of which can operate at full firepower¡ªand not much else to go on, besides her battered auxiliary corps anyway. She can¡¯t exactly call in any more reinforcements, either. To be honest, I feel bad for her. I¡¯m basically humiliating her in front of the entire general staff right now. But if I look at it as payback for all the time she teased me in the past, then it makes me feel less guilty. ¡°I think you should concede defeat here,¡± I say, flatly. ¡°As if,¡± Friederika says rather bitterly. Is she being stubborn? ¡°Kiki, there¡¯s no way you can come back from this,¡± I remark ¡°I think the rest of the war game is settled,¡± she doesn¡¯t respond. But it¡¯s clear she is deep in thought about how she could salvage this situation. Well, to be fair, I did say to give it our all. She¡¯s just doing what I asked her to do earlier. But sometimes you just have to know when to throw in the towel. Friederika slowly retreats to her initial spawn area, where she gradually orders what remained of her flotilla to retreat. But do I let her peacefully go, or do I attempt to destroy her force here and now? Do pirates even have any honor? Do they even know what honor is? I heard old war stories that the so-called Madame Scarface was harsh on Federation officers during the Don¡¯s reign of terror in the Merican region. I suppose it wouldn¡¯t be too unreasonable for me to attack, right? I let out a sigh. I suppose it wouldn¡¯t hurt. Just as I was about to order an attack on her remaining force, the holographic display changed to a red hue, signaling the end of the stimulation. It¡¯s over. Chapter 13: Memories of Toscana | Victoria and Mazzareli The room fills with a round of applause. Some of the officers nearby give their congratulations on my impressive comeback. ¡°Ahh¡­ thanks, but it was just pure luck, honestly!¡± I say all giddily. It was more than just luck, honestly. I think it¡¯s more appropriate to say it was beginner¡¯s luck. I mean, I do have some experience with these war games. I think I entered a tournament once back at the academy. But I only got through some brackets before I got knocked out into the loser¡¯s brackets. We have some amazing tacticians in the navy, which I¡¯m proud of and is good for the future of the Federation. But it still kinda stings when you lose to any. I excuse myself and head over to where Friederika is. I present myself before her and extend my arm for a handshake. But Friederika doesn¡¯t recuperate at first. She hangs her head low and avoids looking me in the eyes. ¡°Kiki¡­¡± I mumble. It¡¯s a little disheartening to see her behave like this. The next moment, though, she¡¯s lively again. She tries to laugh it off. ¡°Right! I¡¯m sorry. That was a bit ugly of me, wasn¡¯t it?¡± She takes my hand and gives it a firm shake, ¡°you did good, Vicky. Sometimes I think it should be you to be promoted to sub-lieutenant instead of me.¡± ¡°Well¡­ I wouldn¡¯t go that far¡­,¡± I remark ¡°you¡¯re smarter than me when it comes to being an officer, you know.¡± ¡°Oh please,¡± she gushes, ¡°you¡¯re just flattering me right at this point.¡± I couldn¡¯t help but pout in turn. ¡°But it¡¯s true though!¡± We both let out a laugh.
The room empties a few minutes later. Leaving only me, Friederika, and¡­ The XO and CO? They aren¡¯t looking at us though. They seem to be discussing something between the two of them. But soon enough Buttermilch gives us¡ªor rather me¡ªone last glance as he departs the room, leaving only the three of us alone. Mazzareli turns his frowning gaze to us. Friederika and I snap to attention with such imperfections on our salutes that only our mums could love. They drilled us so thoroughly back at the academy, but it never quite stuck with us. With Friederika in particular, you would think she would get it right on the first try. Mazzareli lets out a collective sigh, ¡°at ease, you two.¡± The two of us release our breaths and return to a resting position. The Lieutenant Commander walks over to the table, in front of him are the intelligence documents. The ones that Pluto had retrieved for me from earlier. He gathers them up and proceeds to flip through them for a bit. Afterward, he executes a perfect about-face, turning to us directly. ¡°Well¡­¡± Mazzareli starts. Friederika and I can¡¯t help but stiffen up a bit. ¡°Relax, you two. It¡¯s nothing too major. First of all, commander Buttermilch commented that he was irked when he saw the intelligence documents sitting here.¡± He waves the documents folder in front of us. ¡°I¡¯m not too bothered by it,¡± he continues ¡°you wanted to do your homework and keep the stimulation as accurate as possible. However,¡± Mazzareli began pacing back and forth, albeit slowly, ¡°Buttermilch is¡­ a bit of a hardass when it comes to regulations. As I¡¯m sure you are aware by now,¡± Mazzareli remarks. He stops and presents the documents to us again. I could feel a single bead of sweat racing down my face. Mazzareli said to relax, but it¡¯s a bit hard when you¡¯re being lectured! Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. ¡°¡­This is unauthorized use of the general staff¡¯s property. And Buttermilch nor his aide was not informed of these documents being taken.¡± ¡°¡ªDid lieutenant Pluto not tell him?¡± Those words blurt out from my mouth, without thinking. Mazzareli¡¯s frown only worsens. ¡°Who?¡± He asks, Friederika rolls her eyes. ¡°Lieutenant Plotte. She means lieutenant Plotte,¡± Friederika interjects. ¡°Oops, sorry,¡± I say, lying as naturally as I breathe, ¡°my tongue slips when I pronounce his surname,¡± Mazzareli, unamused, also rolls his eyes. ¡°¡­Right,¡± he begins ¡°no, lieutenant Plotte was not given the authorization to use these documents. However¡­¡± I feel like every time he says that we start getting tense ¡°¡­Buttermilch was willing to let it slide. He wanted the two of you¡­¡± a pause as he seems to consider his words, then he frowns again ¡°¡ªwell, I suppose the three of you¡ªthrown into the brig on the grounds of a potential security breach. However, with a bit of convincing, I managed to persuade him to change his mind,¡± if I didn¡¯t know any better, I would have thought Mazzareli enjoys waving the bloody documents around, ¡°please don¡¯t let such an inconvenience happen again.¡± Mazzareli is about to leave, but before he does, he stops to face us one last time. ¡°Oh, before I forget. commander Buttermilch wanted you summoned to his office, ensign Happ-Schwarzenberger.¡± ¡°Eh? Just me?¡± I ask, baffled. Not the others? His gaze shifts to Friederika. ¡°Yes, he did not request the presence of sub-lieutenant Trachenberg. Although if you ask me, it would be necessary for all three of you to be present.¡± ¡°You mean lieutenant Pluto?¡± Friederika chimes in, stealing my gimmick. I¡¯m impressed it took her this long to rub off on her. ¡°Er¡­ yes,¡± Mazzareli sighs, ¡°I mean him as well. But he asked specifically for you. Please remember to drop by his office as soon as you are ready, as general quarters begin at 1800 hours.¡± ¡°Understood, thank you, sir.¡± Friederika and I state as we give another amateur salute. Lieutenant commander Mazzareli then departs the room. ¡°Well¡­ Kiki, what now?¡­¡± I ask, before looking at Friederika with concern, ¡°hey, are you doing alright?¡± Friederika looks increasingly pale and particularly distraught. Like a zombie, she looks at me sheepishly. ¡°It¡¯s a good thing I wasn¡¯t required to come with you,¡± she says rather dryly, ¡°I think I¡¯m going through a coffee crash right now. Going through that war game exercise and our XO was draining.¡± I couldn¡¯t help but laugh at her misery. ¡°You think or you know?¡± I slap her on the back, and she nearly topples over from the force, ¡°maybe that¡¯ll be a lesson to you not to overdo it on the caffeine, eh?¡± Friederika could only offer a weak smile in response ¡°aw, what¡¯s wrong, you want me to princess carry you to your room? Kiss you on the forehead for a good night¡¯s sleep before general quarters?¡± Okay, maybe I was rubbing it in a little too much. Feeling guilty, I pat Friederika on the head. ¡°Sorry, I was overdoing it a bit too much. Get some rest Kiki, you¡¯ll need it for later.¡± Friederika nods and trudges her way out of the room. I can feel my breakfast churn around in my stomach. Even my hands begin trembling more. ¡°A meeting with commander Buttermilch, huh?¡± I muse as I head out of the room. Chapter 14: Memories of Toscana | Victoria and Buttermilch
OUTSIDE THE CAPTAIN¡¯S OFFICE
My trembling hand hovers over the steel door. A sense of dread as I find myself unable to bring about knocking on it. This hesitation materializes itself as a lump in the back of my throat. In frustration, I let my arm fall freely to my side. Now that I¡¯m here, everything about this¡ªthe meeting with Buttermilch¡ªis making me feel sick. Maybe breakfast is finally going for a full-blown mutiny in my stomach. Then, should I head to the sickbay and ask a nurse to tell commander Buttermilch I¡¯m not feeling too well? In response to my answer, I shake my head. No, I was summoned by a superior officer and I am obliged to come, lest it becomes insubordination. If I don¡¯t, then Friederika and Pluto will land in trouble too, and I would hate to cause any more trouble for Friederika. Somehow, I¡¯m getting bad memories of heading to the headmistress¡¯s office one time too many times in primary school. In those days, I wasn¡¯t the trouble maker¡ªI was Friederika¡¯s scapegoat since she was always such a rebellious student. Aren¡¯t I just a good friend? As a wake-up call, I slap myself on the cheeks. Focus, Victoria, focus! With a deep inhale and exhale, I clench my fist and give the metallic door a few good taps. Then I wait. Wait, is this the point where I¡¯m supposed to follow it up with an ¡®ensign Happ-Schwarzenberger, please excuse the intrusion!¡¯ Or do I wait for Buttermilch to acknowledge me? Ah¡­ I feel kinda embarrassed standing outside here. If there were others around, they would think I¡¯m way too awkward. I clear my throat a couple of times and close my eyes, in search of some courage. ¡°U¡­Um!¡­. En-ensign Schapp-Shortsburger¡­!¡± It is all I can muster. My mouth goes numb, and when the senses come back my tingling nerves remind me that I bit my tongue somewhere in there. Jeez, if Friederika was here I would never hear the end of it from her. I need her right now. On the other side of the door, I thought I could hear a head scratch and a confused murmur, but it must¡¯ve been my imagination. ¡°Ah, yes¡­ ensign Happ-Schwarzenberger, was it? Please, come in.¡± The voice is a bit muffled as a result of the thick door. But I can still recognize that masculine voice as none other than the CO, commander Buttermilch. Without even thinking I immediately bolt to a salute, ¡°yes, sir!¡±
The inside of Buttermilch¡¯s office is surprisingly huge. I have never actually been here before. If I have to guess, it¡¯s probably slightly smaller than your average civilian living room. Compared to the hallway, it¡¯s a luxurious cabin. The cherry-red carpet and gorgeous wood paneling make this cabin look like I had stepped through a portal into another world. Though, one thing for sure, I have to hand it to Buttermilch for having good taste in matching decorations as well. However, I don¡¯t know why but it clashes with our blue uniforms too much. Seriously! I feel out of place with all of this red. Now, if we had brown or red uniforms then it¡ª ¡°¡­Happ?¡± I snapped back to attention, ¡°yes sir!¡± I state, rather timidly. Buttermilch carries with him a glass of some alcohol, I would assume, though I never took him for being the drinking type given how much of a hardass he is. He gestures towards the chair in front of his desk. ¡°Please, have a seat,¡± Buttermilch says, a little too friendly than what I¡¯m used to. ¡°Thank you, sir, but¡­¡± I have a sense of hesitation to decline. My legs feel like they are starting to give out from keeping them straight for the whole morning. As much as I want to desperately just sit down and relax, I have to contain myself. It¡¯s necessary to give off the impression that I¡¯m a strong and disciplined person. I mean, I am a strong and disciplined person, if you can look past the fact that my bedrooms historically tend to be completely and utterly chaotic. Buttermilch only shrugs, ¡°it¡¯s your choice, Ensign. Now, back to the matter at hand¡­¡± Buttermilch runs a finger along the rim of his glass, ¡°what was your intent for not only breaching security protocols regarding the intelligence documents but also an unauthorized use of the planning center on such short notice before general quarters? Do you have any idea how much trouble we could be in if we were attacked?¡± Eh? The gerbils in my head churned trying to think of an answer, and without thinking, I reply with the first thing that comes to mind. ¡°It was a necessity,¡± I blurt out. ¡°A necessity?¡± Buttermilch echoes the words. He gets up from the chair and paces around the desk. ¡°A necessity that risks being thrown into the brig, and a risk that entails a court-martial and dishonorable discharge?¡± Those words have weight to them for sure. But I give my answer in the form of a nod. ¡°I believe these¡­ consequences¡­¡± I struggle to get the words out, ¡°relies on the success of the operation. Rather, uh¡­ i-if we all make it out alive, rather.¡± The Commander stops. He turns to face me with a raised brow ¡°what do you mean by that, Ensign?¡± ¡°I believe Operation Alphonse is doomed to fail, and I¡­¡± I¡¯m trembling too much. Well, more than trembling, I trail off because I can¡¯t find the words to finish the sentence. Buttermilch¡¯s brow furrows, and he takes a shot from his glass before he paces around the table again. ¡°And¡­ what?¡± Buttermilch inquires, ¡°ensign Happ? Please continue.¡± Buttermilch¡¯s pacing made me increasingly nervous, but I bite my lower lip to hide my insecurity. I take a deep breath and scramble to organize my thoughts into words. ¡°I believe commodore Hugo should not initiate this operation,¡± I say, taking a deep breath, ¡°I¡­uh, concluded that the mafia flotilla at the Valspon system is not preparing for an offensive. ¡°Rather, as I have told my friend Friederika, I believe it is rather the opposite. They are simply there to deter an invasion. Or¡­¡± I have to pause. I¡¯m beginning to feel a little lightheaded from talking without a break. ¡°Or¡­ it could be a trap.¡± Buttermilch washes down the rest of his glass. He stops pacing and gently sets down the empty glass before he turns to face me. ¡°¡­A trap, you said?¡± Buttermilch asks, clearly intrigued. A brow raised. ¡°Y-yes, I believe it could be a trap,¡± I say, with a bit of hesitance. ¡°Could you give me your reasonings, sub-lieutenant Happ?¡± This is starting to feel more and more like I¡¯m being interrogated. I suppose I kind of am though, huh? ¡°I believe¡­¡± a clear of my throat, ¡°I believe it makes no sense that the Don would only now muster a naval force this late. I mean, long after our expedition was already present in the area, and for a supposed offense. And if the intelligence officers based in the Bordeaux region are confident in their findings, then the mafia strength is truly smaller than the one at Brenaco. Smaller than ours. ¡°They wouldn¡¯t do so without some reconnaissance of their own, right?¡± Wait¡­ ¡°Hold on a second,¡± I say after the brief pause. ¡°What is it, Ensign?¡± Buttermilch asks. I stroke the surface of the red oak desk. This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it ¡°I wasn¡¯t able to give the documents a thorough read. But did you?¡± I give Buttermilch a curious look. Buttermilch looks on with his usual frown, deep in thought. ¡°I believe I did. Yes, what are you getting at?¡± ¡°Did the liaison officers make any mentions of Mafia scout activity?¡± ¡°Hmmm,¡± Buttermilch strokes his chin, ¡°I do not recall anything that would indicate they have commenced any.¡± I snap my fingers. ¡°Thus,¡± I begin ¡°there¡¯s the possibility they are baiting us to attack so they can catch us off guard with their reserve force.¡± ¡°How can you be so sure?¡± Buttermilch muses. ¡°Frankly I am not,¡± I couldn¡¯t help but let out a small chuckle. But Buttermilch doesn¡¯t seem to read the atmosphere and continues to pierce me with a serious gaze. ¡°B-but it¡¯s entirely possible they aren¡¯t preparing for one. This could just be a simple measure and they are committing the bulk of their fleet in the Rouen corridor.¡± Buttermilch stops pacing in front of his chair. He sinks, slowly, into its leather cushion. I notice the tightness around his eyes as he bites his lower lip. ¡°The real threat, from the perspective of the Don, is from the Rouen corridor?¡± Buttermilch surmises, ¡°then you believe admiral DeRyck has already relieved Ruthenia and Merica of pirate havens?¡± ¡°¡­It¡¯s very well possible,¡± I remark ¡°but because of the lack of coordination with admiral DeRyck, it¡¯s difficult to say. But because of these recent developments, DeRyck may be about to strike at the Don from the Rouen corridor.¡± ¡°So then, would it not make sense for commodore Hugo to seize the initiative by attacking the least concentrated front and force the 217 Mafia to crumble?¡± Buttermilch asks a good question, or point, or whatever you want to call it. At a glance, Operation Lucky Alphonse does seem like an operation that could be hugely successful. But it has several underlying factors, such as¡­ ¡°¡­It all comes back to admiral DeRyck¡± I utter without a second thought. Buttermilch, who leans back slightly in his chair, leans forward with his staple furrowed brow. ¡°Pardon?¡± ¡°Oh! Er, uh¡­¡° I slip my cap off and run my hand through silky hair, ¡°our whole¡­ uh, the opportunity for anything relies on DeRyck¡¯s current situation. I believe it is necessary to convince commodore Chal to reconsider this preemptive strike until we can establish communications with DeRyck. ¡°That does mean¡­ that the preemptive strike would no longer be preemptive. And in that time-frame¡ª¡± Buttermilch interrupts my train of thoughts ¡°you believe the Don will make his move into Bordeaux, and potentially even seek an alliance with the Brenaco pirate haven?¡± I give the most frustrating audible exhale I could produce. ¡°I believe that is another possibility. If commodore Hugo doesn¡¯t postpone the operation, there is another option on the table.¡± Buttermilch crosses his arms and swivels the chair back and forth. ¡°I suppose you are getting at a defensive deterrence of our own?¡± I begin feeling a little excited that Buttermilch is on the same page as me. ¡°Yes! Imagine it as sort of a¡­¡± I trail off, tilting my head. In the olden days, they referred to it as some sort of standoff named after an ancient ethnic group. It¡¯s not a term you particularly hear nowadays but I hear it¡¯s quite hip with the older generations. ¡°S-sort of like a¡­ M-Mexican standoff?¡± I utter with an excitedly confusing question. Buttermilch gave an affirmative grunt. ¡°I see¡­ I see.¡± ¡°But..¡± ¡°But?¡± Buttermilch stops swiveling his chair to hear what I have to say. ¡°Rather than do it from the get-go,¡± I stroke my cap as I continue, ¡°I believe the most reasonable way to avoid a total disaster is to maintain the defensive stance at Valspon, itself.¡± Buttermilch looks at his empty oak table with perplex, ¡°do you believe we should execute the first phase of Lucky Alphonse but not march towards L¨¹beck?¡± ¡°Yes, I believe we would put ourselves at too much risk to pursue the operation after Valspon falls. If it falls in a timely manner.¡± ¡°Before they can get additional reinforcements?¡± Buttermilch taps the desk, ¡°and I suppose you believe splitting up our force will have only negative consequences.¡± ¡°That is exactly right!¡± I almost shout it in excitement, and I have to grip my chest to contain myself. Buttermilch did not seem to pay any attention to my youthfulness. I tidy my necktie and clear my throat. ¡°I believe one way or another DeRyck will confront the 217 Mafia in the Rouen corridor¡ªwhich may or may not be happening as we speak. Commodore Hugo may not get his¡­ what did he call it?¡± ¡°Fame and glory,¡± Buttermilch replies in a rather dry tone. ¡°Right, he will not get his ¡®fame and glory¡¯ that way, but¡­ ¡°It will save lives, without a doubt. And as you have seen from the last campaign I did with sub-lieutenant Kiki¡ªer, Trachenberg, it is essential to keep our flotilla as one force. No matter the course of action commodore Hugo may take, I earnestly believe that is the most thing to keep in mind,¡± after I finish, I suddenly have an idea regarding the simulated war games, ¡°ah, if I may add one more thing, sir.¡± Buttermilch gets up from his seat and makes his way over to a trolley nearby to pour himself another drink. He turns to gesture me a go-ahead, so I do. ¡°Regarding the last wargame sub-lieutenant Trachenberg and I have done. If you show it to Commodore Hugo, I am positive the results will leave an impression on him to avoid commencing any¡­ unfavorable maneuvers that may¡­ uh, result in the destruction of our flotilla, or something else of that nature..¡± Buttermilch pours a conservative amount of liquid into his glass and gives it the gentlest of shakes. As the ice in it shakes and splashes against each other, he turns to me once more. ¡°And you have full confidence that when he learns two junior officers were the ones behind it, he would take it to heart when deliberating on the operation?¡± Those words punch me in the gut. It is true, but it also stings a bit. It¡¯s not something I thought about. I¡¯m only an ensign after all¡ªwould it make sense for the highest-ranking officer to even consider the advice of the lowest ranking staff officer for the benefit of the entire flotilla? Ideally¡­ no, it wouldn¡¯t. If I was an aide to Hugo, it would make more sense, but I¡¯m not. I¡¯m not even an assistant to Mazzareli. Before I knew it, I subconsciously sink into the chair that Buttermilch had offered to me before. I deliberate for it for what feels like forever. I can see Buttermilch just out of eyesight adding some spices to his drink and promptly downing it in one shot. ¡°Ensign Happ, is something the matter?¡± ¡°No, I¡¯m¡­¡± I sit up straight. I grip my leggings as tightly as I can. There¡¯s no need to falter now. I came this far, didn¡¯t I? Is it all for nothing then? I have to be confident. ¡°Er¡­ I believe he will. I-if¡­ I managed to impress you and lieutenant commander Mazzareli, then I think it will¡­ work for a third charm.¡± For a moment, Buttermilch slips me a smirk before returning to his cold stare, or are my eyes deceiving me? Buttermilch lets the words sink in and gives me a warm nod. ¡°If that is what you believe, then I will do my best to persuade commodore Hugo,¡± when he finishes, I stand up and salute him. ¡°Thank you, sir, that means a lot to me,¡± I announced in the most steadfast tone I can muster. The commander raised his empty glass to me. ¡°I appreciate your efforts, but¡­¡± Buttermilch clears his throat, he opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out at first. He pinches his nose ridge and clicks his tongue. With a grievous sigh, Buttermilch continues, ¡°it does pain me to say this, but once this operation is finished and we return to Sydney, I will still have to adhere to regulations and give you a court-martial for your actions regarding the breach of security. Lieutenant Plotte will also have to stand trial as well, and possibly even sub-lieutenant Trachenberg. ¡°But for now, please return to your cabin and rest until general quarters begin. And don¡¯t give me that look, Ensign. I¡¯ll spare you the comfort of the cold and lonely brig. You should be relieved I am letting it slide,¡± Buttermilch says it with such a pained expression that I am led to believe it¡¯s not something he wants to actually go through with. But I say nothing, and I give a feeble salute and excuse myself from the room.
Outside in the dull and metallic hallway, I feel dizzy. It gets to the point that I need to drag myself along the railing to my room. Luckily, there is no one around to see me in such a sorry state. But I didn¡¯t head to my cabin compartment. Rather, I headed for Friederika¡¯s. Thankfully, hers isn¡¯t too far off. When I reach her door, I lean against it with a thud, raising one fist to give a gentle knock. As I tap the door, I realize I made a fatal mistake. The tap ended up being more than just a knock. I must have been unaware of my strength because I do not hear a plop. I hear the loudest of metallic BANGS. ¡°Eh? Who¡¯s out there? I¡¯m kind of busy right now¡ª¡± I feel like I¡¯m on autopilot at this point or something like a dream state. Without hesitation, I open her door and fumble in. I hear only a shriek that rings my eardrum. The last thing I see is a half-naked dark-haired lady chucking a boot in my direction. Immense pain reverberates through my body, then nothing. Chapter 15: Memories of Toscana | Heart to Heart ¡°Seriously¡­¡± Friederika grumbles ¡°you could¡¯ve at least announced it was you.¡± When I come to, I find myself left upright on her bed. Friederika stands a little off from me at her dresser. She¡¯s busy tidying up her uniform while looking in the mirror. Given her hair is unkempt and still looks wet, I must¡¯ve barged in right as she got out of the shower. Not to mention she looks ugly without her makeup applied. ¡°Sorry, I¡­ was exhausted,¡± I say, rubbing the place where the boot did a number on me. ¡°Does that mean it didn¡¯t go well?¡± Friederika asks, dabbing one of her cheeks with an orange powderpuff, ¡°did the big mean Buttermilk give you traumatic memories of that granny headmistress from primary school?¡± Now, of all times! I don¡¯t want to open old, repressed memories of that horrible hag. That headmistress made commander Buttermilch look nice, I¡¯ll say that much. ¡°I think it went well,¡± I say, ¡°he reassured me he would do his part to convince commodore Chal. I think that¡¯s as good a victory as any.¡± Friederika slips on her jacket and reaches for the belt that was hanging on the chair nearby. ¡°Oh? That¡¯s reassuring,¡± Friederika says, before frowning ¡°but that doesn¡¯t explain why you came onto me like a hungry zombie.¡± Piercing a gaze through her back, I retort, ¡°you never had to grow up being thrown under the bus consistently. You wouldn¡¯t understand. It was kind of stressful, you know?¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure it was,¡± it sounds a bit sarcastic when Friederika puts it like that. But at the same time, it sounded like genuine empathy. She lets out a long exhale. After she finishes putting on her over-shirt, Friederika comes over to the edge of the bed to cast a shadow over me. ¡°Well, that aside¡­ general quarters is only a few hours away, I take it?¡± Thinking on it, I give a weak nod. Just a few more hours, huh? ¡°You look pretty tired,¡± she says in the most obvious way possible, ¡°if you want, you can use my shower. You can have one of my caffeine pills to keep you awake, too, if you want,¡± Friederika turns to put away some old clothes, but turns back to give me a winking grin, ¡°but you owe me.¡± ¡°Owe you?¡± I scoff, ¡°do I owe anything to someone that wears black panties? I took you for someone that would wear pink¡­¡± ¡°Do you want another boot to the head?¡± Friederika sneers ¡°actually, should I report you as MIA while I¡¯m at it? It would be a shame if the Federation lost such a young and bright maiden to¡­¡± ¡°Okay, okay I get it,¡± I throw my hands up ¡°thanks, Kiki,¡± I say in defeat. I get up from the bed and head into the shower compartment, leaving behind Friederika snickering at her pathetic joke. She can be an honest handful a lot, but that¡¯s why I cherish her. As I start undressing, I double-check to make sure I have the door locked. And at that moment, I hear the rattling of the doorknob on the other side. ¡°Ehh? Ah¡­¡± It¡¯s the sound of genuine disappointment. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m just learning from your mistakes,¡± I say laconically ¡°you¡¯re ten thousand years too early to see my underwear. You won¡¯t get any weird scenarios like in those Martian dramas you always used to watch.¡± There¡¯s the sound of a click of the tongue. She¡¯s annoyed and I can¡¯t help but chuckle.
After I finish the nice and refreshing freezing shower I get dressed. I unlock the door and find Friederika laying on her bed watching something. ¡°We get reception out here?¡± I muse, ¡°I¡¯m surprised. What are you watching?¡± I drop down next to her. Frankly, I feel like I already know the answer before she can open her flaps. There¡¯s only one thing she would watch at any given time. Stolen novel; please report. ¡°Some Frankish drama,¡± Friederika answers without looking at me. Well, it¡¯s not exactly an M-drama, I guess. ¡°You know what they¡¯re saying?¡± I ask. Friederika turns her head and gives me a puzzling look. ¡°Well¡­ er¡­ kind of. They have subtitles. See? Look.¡± She points to the large flat display screen, and I squint while peering closer. Sure enough, there are indeed some familiar-looking words translating the dialog of whatever Francien language the actors were speaking. ¡°But for the record, I kind of do know what they are saying from watching these. Kinda.¡± ¡°Kinda?¡± I repeat with a scoff ¡°we¡¯ve been stationed here for quite some time and you only kinda know what our Frankish friends are saying? What would happen if some kinda situation happened where you were forced to kinda communicate with a Frank?¡± ¡°Save your anger for the pirates,¡± Friederika rebukes ¡°I bet you don¡¯t even know any Francien languages, either,¡± Friederika replies nonchalantly as she watches her show. Well, I suppose I am a hypocrite. I¡¯ve been sorely lacking in learning Francien stuff. Before we departed from Terra, they handed out pamphlets encouraging us to learn some of the southern Francien languages. But since it isn¡¯t mandated, I never bothered. ¡°Er¡­ sorry.¡± ¡°For what?¡± Friederika asks, ¡°barging into my room to catch a glimpse of this gorgeous figure, or not learning any Francien dialects?¡± ¡°Well, first of all, you¡¯re not that gorgeous¡ªeek!¡± Friederika, while still focused on the Frankish drama, gives me a lousy punch on the shoulder. I rub the spot she hit, light or not, it¡¯s sore regardless. ¡°Hey! Watch it, I¡¯m a fragile maiden.¡± ¡°At least be glad you aren¡¯t a guy,¡± Friederika remarks ¡°I would¡¯ve tossed you out into space. ¡®In space, no one can hear you scream¡¯, was it?¡± She turns to give me a toothy grin ¡°at least it wasn¡¯t to the face, I¡¯m sure that would put a dent in your popularity.¡± ¡°Ugh¡­ if you took a career in stand-up comedy I don¡¯t think you would last a single minute.¡± ¡°Shhh!¡± She waved her hand in my face ¡°this is getting good!¡± We watch the rest of the episode in silence. When the credits begin rolling, I sit up and look out the cabin window at the starry abyss. ¡°Kiki¡­ if you had to watch one last drama before you died, what would it be?¡± I glance over my shoulder to see Friederika¡¯s reaction. I can best describe her as being visibly rattled. ¡°Ahhh, jeez¡­ that¡¯s a tough one¡­¡± Friederika rolls onto her back and rests her hands on her stomach, ¡°where¡¯s this even coming from anyway?¡± ¡°Um¡­ no particular reason,¡± I say. It¡¯s a lie, of course. Friederika frowns and then sits up straight. ¡°You can¡¯t just pretend to go all philosophical on me out of the blue, you know?¡± Friederika says ¡°I mean¡­ I know this operation has given you a lot of anxiety, but don¡¯t worry!¡± She gives me an energetic thumbs up ¡°there is no way that I, the drop-dead gorgeous Friederika, can die in some backwater region like Toscana!¡± She lets out a chuckle with enthusiasm and without any reservation. I don¡¯t know how she can remain cheerful in this kind of situation. But at least it never fails to put a smile on my face. Maybe that¡¯s why she¡¯s behaving happily, for my sake. ¡°Oh yeah, before I forget.¡± ¡°Hm?¡± Friederika reaches into the pocket of her dress shirt and pulls out a small white rectangular tin box. She opens the hinges and reveals many brown-tinted pills. ¡°The caffeine pills, yeah?¡± I give her my thanks and then reach for one to consume. From the direction of the hallway, I can hear the sound of the familiar gong tune indicating general quarters. When the tune ends, a female announcer replaces it: ¡°attention, attention, all personnel, please head to your stations for general quarters for further instructions by your commanding officer,¡± I bite down on my lip after the announcement ends. Friederika must¡¯ve taken notice because she tugs on my sleeve as reassurance. ¡°It¡¯ll all be fine,¡± Friederika says matter of factly ¡°come on, let¡¯s get going before Buttermilk complains,¡± and so, we head to our stations. Chapter 16: Memories of Toscana | Before the Jump Friederika and I are on our way to the main bridge¡ªwhen I decide to step off the slow-moving conveyor. Just off to my side is the glass window between us and the twinkling blanket of stars. Not only are there stars, but also the rest of commodore Hugo¡¯s fleet. It¡¯s a beautiful moment I can¡¯t possibly give up. ¡°Say, Kiki,¡± I utter to the green-haired Sub-Lieutenant. ¡°Hmm? What is it?¡± Friederika has gotten a little further ahead and has to look behind with a surprised look, ¡°is something the matter?¡± She steps off the moving walkway as well. ¡°No¡­¡± I shake my head, ¡°mothing like that. Doesn¡¯t this scene remind you of something?¡± ¡°What do you mean, ¡®this scene¡¯?¡± Friederika asks as she approaches me. I point to the window panel. ¡°All the Federation ships assembling,¡± I answer. Our sister battlecruiser the Hualian is next to ours, just a little distance off. It¡¯s close enough that I could probably jump out with a suit, fly to it and touchdown, then fly back and still have enough fuel in the suit to do some fancy maneuvers. If you squint carefully, with good enough eyesight you can see movements in the yellow dotted lines across her port¡ªpeople moving to and from their destinations. Behind that ship, there are what feels like endless rows of gray blimps¡­ and further even, columns of dots behind us. I feel so excited that I forget to breathe. Before Friederika can say anything, I inhale the beauty as deep as I can and let out a big long exhale that startles Friederika when I stretch out my arms. ¡°Isn¡¯t it wonderful?!¡± I begin cheerfully ¡°I feel like I could watch this again and again and it will make me feel hyped up every time! Ever since that day back home, when we saw the ships launch into orbit, I¡¯ve been obsessed with the navy,¡± out of excitement I hug myself as tight as I can. When I glance over at Friederika¡¯s reaction, she can only let out a sigh and facepalm. ¡°I feel like the longer I¡¯m with you, Vicky,¡± Friederika laments ¡°the less chance I have of getting a date.¡± ¡°Let¡¯s be real Kiki. Even if you did, by some bizarre miracle, get a date, I¡¯m sure they would immediately dump you when they see the real rotten you.¡± Friederika is so outraged that for a split second it almost seems like she was going to pop a vein. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I should be more upset that you¡¯re stealing my line or spouting serious bullshit right now.¡± ¡°Come at me, sister!¡± I say, tauntingly. But before we can tear lunge at each other, there is another gong tune followed by the repeated announcement for general quarters. We get side glances from seamen as they pass by on the moving conveyor. One of them leans into his friend to murmur something. But it¡¯s quiet enough that I can¡¯t make out what they say. After they are out of earshot, Friederika is the first to break the silence, ¡°you know. It is kinda pretty when you think about it. All the ships assembling, I mean.¡± I can¡¯t help but break into a smile. ¡°I¡¯m glad you came to your senses,¡± I remark. We take in the moment before stepping back onto the moving walkway leading to the command bridge. ¡°¡­Oh, before I forget. How are things between you and Paul?¡± Friederika says, glancing at me ¡°do you even talk to him much?¡± Paul? I twirl some strands of hair in ponder. Paul¡­ Paul¡­ I feel like I should know who she is talking about. The name sounds familiar, I¡¯ll give it that much. The fact that I have to think this hard about it makes me think that it must be repressed memories. Friederika stares daggers at me. I feel like she is way too curious about this Paul guy and me. I suppose it doesn¡¯t hurt to ask for a refresher on who Paul is. ¡°Forgive me for asking, but who?¡± Friederika gives me a look like I¡¯m an alien from another part of the galaxy. ¡°Are you serious?¡± She gawks ¡°how could you forget about Paul? It¡¯s only been like, a year at most since we saw him at Canberra academy. Weren¡¯t you guys like, super close back at the academy?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know what you mean? I wasn¡¯t even close to anyone but you¡ª¡± Ah, wait a minute. Paul. Paul¡­ Pluto? Plato? Putty? No, I honestly can¡¯t remember his last name. ¡°What was his last name? I think that might help me recall who Paul is.¡± ¡°Paul Plotte?¡± Friederika retorts almost immediately. Like a strike of lightning, it feels like I have a eureka moment. Plotte¡­ wait a minute. I feel the memories coming back to me now. A scrawny guy with thick rim glasses that he annoyingly adjusts after every little action. Big, poofy hair so out of style that I sometimes wonder if he was just woken up from deep cryosleep. But it couldn¡¯t be the same Plotte that I encountered earlier. That Plotte in particular has better fitness. I bet if he slipped off his shirt he¡¯d be ripped. It couldn¡¯t possibly be the same guy unless Paul went ham at our recreation center. But just to make sure, it never helps to ask. ¡°Are you talking about the lieutenant guy from earlier?¡± I ask, twirling one of my locks of hair, ¡°the one who gave us the documents and landed us in trouble? The buff-looking one? There¡¯s no way that can be him¡­¡± Friederika waves her hand. ¡°No, no. This is a different Plotte. Though I think they are related. The Plotte on our ship is his older brother. I think?¡± ¡°What do you mean, ¡®the Pluto on our ship¡¯? Is there like a Pluto on each ship or something?¡± ¡°Seriously¡­ are you incapable of pronouncing Plotte or something?¡± Friederika asks, folding her arms. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you mean. I¡¯m just pronouncing it like normal.¡± ¡°No, but anyway¡­ I take it you haven¡¯t talked to him at all?¡± I drum my thoughts to think of an appropriate answer. But if I¡¯m being totally honest I kind of forgot about Paul. ¡°¡­I¡¯ve been so absorbed in our training that I never have the time to keep in touch. So I think the last time we talked was¡­¡± ¡°¡ªBefore we departed from the academy?¡± Friederika finishes for me. Before we left the academy, huh? Thinking harder about it, I remember our graduation saw our class deployed to different posts. Thankfully, Friederika and I were given the same assignment. But as for Paul¡­ ¡°Paul was in our class, right?¡± I ask for clarification. ¡°Uh, no,¡± Friederika interjects, ¡°he was actually in the class before us. He was assigned to that ship over there,¡± Friederika points back at the Hualian, ¡°I remember Paul seemed upset when he found out we would not all be in the same ship.¡± I can¡¯t help but break into a grin and give Friederika a nudge. ¡°You two seem close if you know this much,¡± I say wryly. Friederika breaks off eye contact. I can see the tips of her ears turn a bright shade of red. ¡°N-no. I don¡¯t think we were that compatible. Besides, he is more interested in you. Whenever we did hang out together, you were all he ever talked about. It was irritating!¡± Oh yeah. Come to think of it, I remember Friederika would sometimes hang out with other classmates in our recess periods. So it was with Paul after all? The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°If you didn¡¯t like hanging out with Paul so much, why didn¡¯t you just¡­¡± I shrug my shoulders before continuing, ¡°I don¡¯t know, not hang out with him?¡± Friederika only lets out a scoff. She mumbles something under her breath low enough for me not to make it out. ¡°Well, that aside¡­ why would you bring up Paul all of a sudden?¡± I ask. ¡°Well¡­ You did get all sentimental in my room earlier. So I figured¡­¡± Friederika trails off. So that is what this is all about. She¡¯s worried I won¡¯t survive the operation or something, huh? I give Friederika another playful nudge. ¡°Oh ho? Does the thought of Paul being in distraught over you or me¡ª¡± Friederika looks me straight in the eyes again. There¡¯s no sign of her breaking into a toothy grin like she usually does. ¡°I wish you would take this a bit more seriously. We might not be able to do it now. But after we come back¡­ I want you to contact Paul¡­¡± her eyebrows quiver as she tries to finish the sentence ¡°¡ªif he even lives through this, as well.¡± ¡°Kiki¡­¡± Before I say any more, the conveyor comes to a sudden end. The two of us briefly shift our attention to carefully step onto the static floor. The auto door ahead of us slides open, and we proceed through it. It would be an understatement to say the bridge room is huge. Rows of computer screens line most of the area. Lots of technicians scurrying around on the raised platforms like an army of rats. The walls consist of slanted windows exposing most of outer space and the occasional Federation ships cruising forward all around us. Friederika leans in to whisper to me ¡°Seems we made it just in time.¡± Standing in the middle of the room was our CO of the ship, Buttermilch. After examining a tablet presented to him, he clears his throat. Everyone, including me and Friederika, freezes in unison at attention. ¡°I have just received word from commodore Hugo that the fleet is preparing to warp to the Valspon system. Our section will warp after the others. In the meantime please review all systems and standby for further orders,¡± Buttermilch states dutifully. With a thunderous aye-aye from the crowd, the crew resumed its hustling. ¡°So, what exactly are we supposed to do, then?¡± I ask Friederika. ¡°Look busy and hope Buttermilch doesn¡¯t chew you out anymore, I suppose?¡± She suggests with a shrug. It seems Friederika jinxed it somehow. The lieutenant with a large build from before stands before us with tablets in either hand. ¡°Ensign Happ. Sub-lieutenant Trachenberg. Please, take these,¡± Plotte orders dryly. We both take them without saying a word. But Friederika glances at me expecting me to say something. As Plotte moves away, I reach out for him without thinking. ¡°Ah¡­! Lieutenant Pluto!¡± Plotte stops and turns around with an irritated brow. ¡°Ensign? Is something the matter?¡± ¡°Ah¡­ no, I was just curious¡­ y-you have a brother named P-Paul on the Hueylint, right?¡± He fully turns to face me with a confused look. ¡°The Hueylint? You mean the Hualian?¡± I instinctively give a nod, while silently cursing myself for flubbing the ship¡¯s name. ¡°Well¡­ yes. Paul Plotte, an ensign assigned to one of the missile loading teams, I believe. We keep in regular touch whenever we can,¡± he gives me a warm smile, ¡°he talks about you a lot,¡± his gaze shifts to Friederika, ¡°and the Trachenberg miss as well,¡± Friederika is pretending to be busy. While the two of us are talking, Friederika is off to the side and seems to be messing around on the tablet. I know Friederika too well to know she is minding her own bloody business. She clearly is listening in, since the mention makes her jump a bit in place. ¡°Ha ha ha¡­ is that so?¡± Friederika laughs it off anxiously. ¡°Please, when this is all over¡­ continue to look over him, if you can,¡± and with that Plotte turns to leave us alone. ¡°¡­What a supportive brother,¡± I say offhandedly. Friederika only attempts to nod in agreement. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Mazzareli entering the bridge. He scans the room and heads in the direction of Buttermilch, where the two of them converse for a few minutes. Buttermilch orders the bridge crew to fall into formation, where Friederika and I find our place along the lining of the windows. Outside, ships like the Hualian accelerate ahead of us and fall into a box formation with other ships. ¡°Right turn!¡± Buttermilch orders. I slam my heel in unison with the deafening of a hundred boots doing the very same. In near perfect rhythm, our troops all proceed to face the windows¡ªtowards the Federation fleet advancing. Buttermilch orders arms raised and a salute. I obediently do as I was told: I raise my right hand sharply, fingers extended and joined, palm facing down, and place the tip of my thumb right on the rim of my cap. The Hualian passes us at moderate speed, and I can make out the ants-sized people giving us return salutes. Buttermilch orders us into an attention stance, and I change back into an assertive posture with arms at the side. I turn my gaze to my side, toward the ships ahead. Violent cackling of lightning strikes gives form into whirlpools of distorted space in front of some of the ships ¡ª vortexes that twist and wring the fabrics of space itself at unimaginable speeds. The warp portals open wider, bigger, and the lightning strikes seem to get out of control. The very sight of them sends continuous chills down my spine. I¡¯ve never actually seen the entrance of a warp hole myself¡ªour fleet has spent its whole journey mostly cruising with the use of regular engines. But still, it is terrifying. To think that just a shy over two hundred years ago humans were struggling to get these warp jumps usable for interstellar flight ¡ª I¡¯m suddenly reminded of the documentary Friederika and I watched back home a few years ago. The imagery of crushed ships and ill-fated tests flash across my mind. ¡°Worried?¡± Friederika whispers, smiling. It¡¯s just quiet enough for me to hear. The last of the vanguard disappear into their warp holes. Slowly but surely the numerous vortexes dissipate into regular space. Buttermilch relieves the company of the attentive stance and orders us to prepare for the warp jump. After the order is given, everyone breaks ranks, and the crowd hustles around the bridge. Ah¡ªbut wait, how do you prepare for a warp jump? As I ask myself in puzzlement, I notice the familiar electrical coils of lightning lashes out as a violent whirlpool takes form once more¡ªthis time directly in front of our ship. Trembling I look around again in a panic and I feel a cold hand brush against mine. I turn to see who it is and find Friederika with her toothy grin. ¡°You look like a lost child in a supermarket, you know? ¡°You never actually been through a warp jump, have you, Vicky?¡± I shake my head. ¡°No, can¡¯t say I have. This is probably my first time, and you?¡± Friederika¡¯s goofy grin reaches from ear to ear, ¡°to tell you the truth, this is my first time as well. But fret not! Friederika the breathtaking beauty will comfort you as we make our way through the scary torrent of whatever the hell that is!¡± She expresses it in such a triumphant manner that I can only admire her for it. Onlookers stop what they are doing and give us strange looks. ¡°But if I¡¯m telling the truth, I think you just grab onto something sturdy or whatever. I¡¯m sure it doesn¡¯t matter too much though. The boots they issued us¡­¡± she taps one boot against the floor ¡°have some gravity doohickey in them right?¡± Friederika is talking about how the boots can keep you on the floor if the vacuum of space tries to pull you out. It sounds kinda convenient, since, you know, being sucked into outer space is not exactly something any sane person would not want to experience. ¡°I mean¡­ sure¡­ but¡­ how exactly does that help with the warp jump?¡± I ask, innocently. ¡°Well¡­ you know, in case the windows shatter or¡­ something,¡± Friederika says with a tone that¡¯s not particularly convincing. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t think so, I think they close them during the jumps. See?¡± I point at some of the windows in front of us. ¡°Huh?¡± Friederika utters, as industrial shutters slowly roll down to cover the windows with a quiet hum, and the process is sealed with a soft hiss. For a moment we find ourselves in darkness before the flicker of lights restores vision in the bridge. The ship suddenly gives a slight shake that nearly throws me off balance. Friederika and I reach out for the railing in front of us. ¡°All hands¡­¡± I grip the metal railing as hard as I can, and my body trembles. Friederika extends a hand that she rests on mine ¡ª and gives it a gentle squeeze. There is another shake ¡ª this time a bit rougher. And it only tends to get more rocky. I feel a weird sensation in my feet as the sole of the boots clamps onto the floor. ¡°See? There¡¯s nothing to worry about,¡± Friederika says with reassurance. Friederika¡¯s hand is still resting on the back of mine when she intertwines the two, and I can¡¯t help but feel my ears fuming red. The ship is rocking progressively harder, but with the gravity boots activated it¡¯s not as noticeable. ¡°Everything is going to be ok, Vicky. We¡¯ll get through this together.¡± Friederika whispers into my ear. ¡°Brace for warp jumps!¡± Buttermilch¡¯s voice bellows throughout the bridge. It is the last thing I hear before the concept of space and time as I know it becomes no more. My vision becomes increasingly blurred, and I can no longer make out distinguishable colors of anything. The world around me is frozen in place¡ªMazzareli¡ªButtermilch¡ªthe buff Plotte¡ªFriederika¡ªall utterly static. It feels like those moments of sleep paralysis where you want to scream or move around¡ªbut can¡¯t. My grip on the railing feels weightless but it was still clear I am clinging tight onto it. I turn to face Friederika one last time¡ªjust to see that reassuring smile one more time. Before long my vision becomes completely clouded and I can no longer make out anything at all. Chapter 17: Memories of Toscana | Dong Ches Bad Day
AROUND THE SAME TIME
ABOARD DONG CHE''S FLAGSHIP THE PATTANI
Dong Che is having a bad day. Just for once¡ªfor just a single split second¡ªChe wants peace. But the thugs that make up his pathetic excuse for an ¡°observer fleet¡± just won¡¯t stop being rowdy. They have been here for only hardly a month and already the bunch wishes to return to the main fleet. All it gives Che is one big migraine after another. Day in and day out, just constant whining. ¡°The bulk of the Federation lap dogs are staring at us from the Rouen corridor.¡± The reassuring remarks of his father echo through Che¡¯s mind, ¡°there is very little chance¡ªnone at all!¡ªof an attack through Bordeaux. None at all! You can sleep like a baby knowing this much.¡± Those were the words of his father, Dong Zhui, before Che departed from the Velksland system near the june of July. Sleep like a baby my ass. I can¡¯t even get good shuteye because the lowly grunts can¡¯t stop getting into fights with each other. God! Che just wants to tear his hair out in rage. But it doesn¡¯t make any sense. Che just can¡¯t make any sense of it. It only makes him want to grab his scalp and rip it all out. If their father wasn¡¯t so concerned about an advance through the Frankish realm then why even send him and not her? It¡¯s no secret among the officers that Li doesn¡¯t get along with their father at all. Honestly, it would do him good if the Federation attacked while she was in command of this fleet. That way, Li would be dead, and there would be no more family feuds, in father¡¯s own words he could finally sleep like a baby. But sadly, that¡¯s just not how it was meant to be. Father has other ideas in mind for Li, Che supposes. Che heaves an arrogant sigh and takes a long relaxed drag from the cigar he is enjoying. Che is so deep in thought that he almost fails to realize he is gripping the blunt hard enough to snap it in two. But never mind that, Che thinks, the view is a pleasant one. The Pattani and a handful of companion ships are drifting outside of Side Malabo¡¯s docking area, in tandem with the enormous cylinder colony. Che originally wished to be at the Cluster¡¯s capital Side Baltit, but his stubborn officers insisted on Malabo instead. ¡°It¡¯s the closest colony we have to observe Bordeaux!¡± They would plea to him something like that. ¡°Any farther and we risk not containing a Federation assault!¡± But to Che, it didn¡¯t matter either way. How could any of it matter? He has barely enough ships scrapped together to form a decent fighting force. He just wanted the complaints and ruckus to stop, so he gave into whatever they suggested. If Che had his way ¡ªand he should, by all means ¡ª he wants nothing more than to retire inside the colony. As it is, having to wait for supply barges to deliver him goods is such a pain. And that¡¯s part of the problem with all the crew getting antsy. They aren¡¯t even allowed to leave the ship because the staff believes the Federation will attack at any given moment. Honestly, Che scoffs, he ought to have them executed on the grounds of insubordination. If it weren¡¯t for them he wouldn¡¯t be having all these headaches ¡ª the painful migraines that rack his head day in and day out for weeks on end. It¡¯s something his father would do ¡ª like father like son, no? Che, while blowing puffs of suffocating vapor, can only wonder just how many ships the giant Federation has at its disposal. Even so, Che recalls Li once rambling on about some bogus like ¡°diminishing ability to bear forth their military power the further any given threat is from Terra¡± or some mumbo jumbo bullshit like that. If they have an enormous fleet at the Rouen corridor, then it stands to believe they wouldn¡¯t have any strategic capability in this part of the Orion Arm left for a separate operation elsewhere. ¡­Right? They would still need ships elsewhere in the Federation to maintain stability, right? A state across the stars wouldn¡¯t be so reckless to throw everything it has at a humble pirate haven, right? A rapid tap of the foot. Che puffs so many fumes into the pristine air that vision is soon clouded ¡ª the young Dong soon finds himself forced to wave some of the clouds away so he can see outside the window. By now the length of the cigar was short enough that Che can only pinch it with his thumb and index finger. ¡°¡­I¡¯m going to need another one,¡± Che mumbles as he discards the cigar butt into a tray. ¡°¡­Do I even have any left?¡± Che heads over to his desk and rips open one of the drawers. He takes the oak cigar box and flips it open ¡ª and just as he feared, he does not. Resisting the urge to toss the disappointing container across the room, Che sets it down. He then reaches over for the intercom on his desk. ¡°Darcy, send someone up to fetch me another cigar container.¡± Che pauses in ponder. I suppose I should get some more, no? I have no idea if I will run out by the next few hours ¡ª such thoughts crossed Che¡¯s mind in succession. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Darcy¡ªscratch that. Get me several if you will. I don¡¯t care who you send, just do it!¡± Before he can get a response back, Che promptly shuts off the transmission. Not even a moment later, there is a buzz. ¡°Tch¡­ this better be good news.¡± Che grumbles as he flicks on the intercom again. ¡°What is it, Darcy?¡± The soprano voice begins timidly speaking, ¡°Erm¡­ well, captain, I have grave news¡­¡± The back of Che¡¯s hair stands up. Without even thinking he hears a quivering voice that is none other than his own. ¡°W-what is it, Darcy?¡± ¡°Our ship¡¯s stocks of cigars are all depleted¡­ we do however have regular cigarettes. I can ask Malabo if they can procure some for us¡ª¡± Darcy is cut short by the pained groaning of Che. ¡°Darcy¡­ the next time you say something so ominous I will have you thrown into space.¡± Che pauses and shakes his head, ¡°No¡­ forgive me, I didn¡¯t mean that. But, for the record¡­ yes, do please ship more from Malabo. Pay them whatever they want ¡ª oh! Before I forget, throw in some liquor too. I want their strongest stuff.¡± With a dry affirmative, Darcy ends transmission from her side. Left with nothing to satisfy his anxiety, Che resorts to biting his nails ¡ª or what remains of them. ¡°Cigarettes¡­ bah!¡± Che paces around his office. You can¡¯t replace the soothing texture of a burning cigar with something as lousy as a cigarette! ¡°All I want is something to take my mind off for at least the next few days¡­¡± The nail-biting continues. Che stops and unleashes timid taps on the poor floor. ¡°For now, I should get something to eat. I think that will keep me cool for the time being.¡± Yes, Che thought. At the end of the day, nothing beats anxiety better than gorging out on food. That¡¯s all that he needs right now. If nothing else, food is man¡¯s greatest form of comfort. There¡¯s sure to be plenty of quality food sent by Side Malabo. Che wipes away the forming drool with his sleeve and heads for the door. But just as he is about to head out, the intercom begins ringing again. ¡°Bah! The fools. Can¡¯t they wait until I¡¯m down there¡­?¡± Che mumbles as he heads and turns on the intercom. ¡°This better be good. What is it this time?! If Malabo doesn¡¯t even have cigars¡ª¡± Rather than be greeted by the soprano voice of Darcy, there is an interruption in the signal, as the voice crackles to get through. The back of Che¡¯s hair stands up once again. ¡°Darcy! Your signal is weak. This better not be a joke¡ª¡± Finally, the signal gets through long enough to make out Darcy¡¯s voice ¡ª but it wasn¡¯t the calm pitched voice he was used to. It is weighed by despair. ¡°Captain! Captain Che! I¡¯m getting hurried reports from our forward patrols! They¡­ They¡ª!¡± The hairs on his back and arms stood up in perfect unison. ¡°What?¡± ¡°¡ªNumerous reports are flooding in about warp points from the Bordeaux systems!!!¡± Che does not believe what he is hearing for even a second. The signal must still be terrible. ¡°Sorry, Darcy, can you run that through one more time? I think the¡­ signal is still hazy.¡± Darcy repeats it once more in a panicky voice. There¡¯s no mistake about it. Che asks again. And again. And again for confirmation. With each request, Darcy gets more desperate in the confirmations. Che grinds his teeth. No, no, this must be a mistake. There must be an error. Could it be a returning patrol from Bordeaux? No¡­ Che shakes his head. There was no authorization of patrols being sent to the Bordeaux region. Unless¡­ Che takes a side glance at the bin overflowing with empty bottles. But Che shakes his head. The lumbering Dong would surely remember issuing orders if that were the case. ¡°Darcy, is it possible I forgot about sending out sorties to the Franks¡­?¡± It¡¯s a bit embarrassing to ask, but there is always a possibility. It¡¯s a slimmer of reassurance there is some miscommunication on his part. There is a brief silence as Darcy is likely beating her subordinates for answers. ¡°¡ªThere is no indication over the past month of¡ª¡± Che is having a bad day. His attempts at simmering his rage boil over into making a dent in the desk. Although he and Zhui are not blood-related, rage is something that seems to run in the family. ¡°Check the logs! Make a head-count of any missing men or ships! There¡¯s no way¡ª¡± There¡¯s no way. It must be some thugs trying to be heroically stupid!! There¡¯s no way! There¡¯s simply no way there could be Federation ships in Bordeaux! All their ships are at Rouen! Through the intercom noise, Che can make out the sounds of keyboard clicking as Darcy barks to her men. A few moments later, Darcy presents news that makes Che¡¯s equally big heart sink further into the abyss. ¡°Regrettably we have come up with nothing sir. All men are accounted for and records are clean.¡± Che can just barely make out Darcy clearing her throat expecting the worst. ¡°Tell the forward crew to reconfirm it! There must be a mistake! It has to be some thugs¡ª¡± There is a moment of silence. ¡°M-maybe those fools falsely reported warp points? Maybe it¡¯s just a natural occurrence¡­¡± Che bites his nails to keep his increasing trembling in check. Seconds pass by. Seconds turn into minutes. Che expects the intercom to turn on at any given moment. But it doesn¡¯t. The beating in his chest intensifies. Finally, the intercom crackles on as Darcy speaks. ¡°S-sir, I can no longer make contact with the¡ª¡± But Che tunes it out. He can¡¯t be bothered to listen to the rest. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. At that moment, Che hears it. It¡¯s very faint. It is so faint that Che doesn¡¯t want to believe his ears. The stress causes every hair in his body to stand up. No. With heaving breaths, Che turns his gaze towards the window. A part of him doesn¡¯t want to see it. He doesn¡¯t want to be deceived by his eyes, too. Che just wants to wake up from this terrible, godawful dream. Maybe he drank too much after all. Glimmering lights. Hundreds of them. Thousands of them. Endless blimps of light that blanket the heavenly stars. This can¡¯t be happening. None of this should be possible. Was his father deceived? Was Li¡¯s theory of power projection wrong? No¡­ A miscalculation? An underestimation of Federation strength? The commander of the overall observer force in Valspon trembles. One of the top lieutenants of the year 217 Mafia under Dong Zhui¡ªshakes in his boots. A humble servant of his father¡¯s regime¡ªopens his eyes to reality. Dong Che is having a bad day. Any chance ¡ªeven just the smallest chance¡ªof peace single-handedly shatters in the blink of an eye. ¡°M-multiple signatures of missile launches detected! Che!¡± The soprano voice belonging to his subordinate shrieks over the intercom. And boy, is it ever one. Chapter 18: Memories of Toscana | Hello Toscana! The beach I¡¯m trudging on feels like it just goes on forever. The crashing waves and sand are beautiful and all, I get it, but there¡¯s not even other things you would find on a beach ¡ª no lodgings, no rock formations, nothing. Ah, I just want somewhere to sit down and rest. What¡¯s even worse is I don¡¯t see anything to rest on ¡ª seriously, there is no blanket or even an umbrella to cool off under. Seriously, it¡¯s so humid even though I¡¯m only wearing a bikini. Just fanning with my hands to cool off can only do so much. In frustration, I let out a long hopeless sigh. I stop in my tracks for a moment to take in the ambient air. ¡°Well, regardless of my feet hurting and this heat¡­ it¡¯s a beautiful sight nonetheless¡­ I wonder if I¡¯ll ever come across anyone?¡± That¡¯s another thing, I¡¯ve been walking for who knows how long and I have yet to come across anyone ¡ª or anything¡ª not even a little cute crab! Seriously, just where am I? Speaking of which¡­ I look all around me. It kinda feels like I¡¯ve been walking on this beach forever. I¡¯m not sure where my starting point is or even how I got here. There are no real landmarks to speak of. If you exclude the bushes and hill that leads to a road that also trails on forever, that is. I crook my head to the side. Let¡¯s see, one moment I¡¯m on the Yilan and¡­ wait, the Yilan? Wait, what¡¯s that I hear? It sounds like someone is yelling after me. I turn around, and sure enough, I see someone in the distance running towards me. A skinny guy with hair fluttering against the breezing air. Now that I think about it he does look familiar, but I can¡¯t exactly put my finger on it. Peering closer, the realization hits me like a truck. No, more like a bullet train. But the moment hits me nonetheless. ¡°P-Paul?!¡± I cried out in surprise and found myself sprinting for him. As I get closer, it strikes me that he wasn¡¯t any skinnier than what I remember ¡ª he¡¯s toned as hell! And he has a cute little goatee too! ¡°P-Paul? P-Paul Pluto?! Is that you? No way.¡± I exclaim in shock ¡ª the Paul that I know was like a complete shrimp! Paul¡¯s grin is wider than I thought is humanly possible, but I noticed a wince when I said his last name ¡ª if only for a second. ¡°P-Paul, I¡ªhow¡ª¡± I wanted to say a million things at once. But Paul makes an imitative sound with his tongue and crooks a finger back and forth. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you too, miss.¡± He does the most outrageous bow I¡¯ve ever seen, but it¡¯s enough to make me giggle. He finishes the bow with a twirl towards the vast sea, ¡°My! This beach sure is beautiful, eh?¡± He crooks a side glance at me, ¡°but not as beautiful as you, eh?¡± ¡°P-Paul, I¡­oh¡­gosh¡± As if by instinct I try to cover my embarrassment by holding my twinned locks of hair in front of my mouth, but I can¡¯t help but feel like my blush is giving me away. Paul lets out a cackle as he shifts through the sandy shore towards me. ¡°You¡¯re too much of a treasure, Vicky. But that¡¯s why I love you so much.¡± ¡°Eh¡ª Eh? This is so¡ª???¡± I can just feel the puffs of steam erupting from my ears. Everything about this feels like a bizarre dream! Paul stops in front of me and his toned abs are only more apparent this close up. He holds me by the shoulders and stares intently into my eyes without a word. ¡°W-what are you staring at me so hard for? H-haha¡­" I can only stammer as I attempt to dodge his gaze. ¡°I¡¯m just thinking about how I¡¯m the luckiest guy in the world, to spend my life with you.¡± ¡°Oh, stop it~,¡± I say rather giddily. But like a flash of suspension, I return his gaze. Wait, what? ¡°W-what exactly do you mean by that? We were never really together, or that¡­¡± Paul looks a bit hurt. ¡°What¡¯s gotten into you? We¡¯ve been together for the past seven years, remember?¡± He looks at the sunset with a glowing smile. ¡°We gave up our dreams to join the academy and start a life together. Just the two of us.¡± I can only look at Paul with perplex. No¡­ this doesn¡¯t sound right. Everything about this sounds wrong. First this beach, and now me missing out on a love life fantasy with Paul. Fantasy¡­ is that what this is? Am I dead? The possibility comes crashing down like a piano. I stumble away from Paul, who doesn¡¯t break his gaze. ¡°Paul¡­ what¡¯s going on? Why aren¡¯t you on the Hualian? Why are we even here?¡± Paul sighs, and looks back at me again. His glowing smile flips upside down. In the blink of an eye, the beautiful beach scenery becomes a raging inferno. ¡°Ah¡­! Paul!¡± I call out as I attempt to reach out for him, but the scorching hot flames make me ground to a halt. ¡°Paul¡­!¡± I cry out again, but Paul shakes his head again and mutters something under his breath. To my horror, the figure before me starts decomposing at a rapid pace. It gets so ugly that I can no longer bear to look and recoil back out of reflex. ¡°PAUL!!!¡± I scream out in terror again, but there is no more of Paul¡ªthere remain only his skeletal remains¡ªbut what remains of his grotesque face continues to stare me down. A large flame flickers between us and Paul is suddenly in front of me once more. The sudden reappearance causes me to collapse to the floor. I try to scramble back but my legs start to give out. My body becomes frozen under a spell. ¡°P-Paul..?¡± At this point, I can only blurt out a whisper. Paul¡¯s frame kneels and places a hand on my shoulder. ¡°Victoria¡­¡± Flakes of skin trail off from his face with each jaw movement. ¡°Victoria¡­ you have to wake up.¡± ¡°H-huh?!¡± ¡°Y¡­ou¡­¡ª¡± The flames around us become more intense. Soon, even I become engulfed. ¡°¡­ha¡­ u¡­p¡­¡± It¡¯s no use. I can¡¯t make out what he¡¯s saying. His jaw¡ªand soon his skull¡ªburns to nothing more than ash. The remains of his corpse slump to the side as it too becomes ash. Soon, I let out anguish cries of wails as the flames blanket me¡­ No! It can¡¯t end like this! I can¡¯t die here in nothingness¡­! In the distance, I can hear a voice calling out to me¡­ Paul? Paul? Paul! Where are you?! Paul¡­! ¡°¡­ak¡­e up!¡± I see a light. Like a light at the end of the tunnel. Without thinking, I run towards it¡ªI run faster than what I think is possible. There is nothing like out of being out of breath or leg pain to stop me¡ª I just run. As I get closer, I can make out the voice more¡­ ¡°Vic¡­¡± ¡ªA woman¡¯s voice, but¡­ Paul¡­ I look behind me into the void, but there are no signs of Paul¡ª ¡°WAKE UP!!!¡± I¡¯m jolted awake to the sensation of stinging pain on the cheek. ¡°Hey! What¡¯s the big id¡ª¡± I stop mid-sentence and look around to get my bearings. But not long afterwards I feel dizzy, and boy, does it come in fast. Thankfully, there is a railing in front of me, and I cling onto it like it is the only thing that matters in life. ¡°Wuh¡­woa¡­.woah¡­¡± The words fight their way out of my mouth with mild success. My entire legs abruptly give out. From what I can tell, most of my body is hugging the railing like it¡¯s my destined partner in life. ¡°V-Vicky?!¡± Stammers the dark-haired girl standing over me. I look up, but sadly my sight is still largely hazy. But I can still barely make out this poor girl is deeply concerned about something. Wait, is she worried about me? Oh my, I¡¯m so sorry miss, I hate making people worry about me. It always makes me feel so ¡ª SMACK! There¡¯s that painful sensation again. But I think it¡¯s possible to make out things now¡­ Yes¡­ my eyes dart around the surroundings. It seems we are in some kind of fancy bridge control room. Yes¡­ it¡¯s all slowly coming back to me. Not as fast as I would like, but¡ª SMACK! I recoil away from this abusive girl and nearly fall in the process. Thankfully one of my arms is still latching on to the railing. Slowly, I feel like all my senses are coming back now. I look up in time to notice the girl raising her arm again, but I shield myself with my free arm. ¡°What the hell is your problem?!¡± I cry out in pain. She looks at me puzzled but laughs afterward. ¡°Sorry sleeping beauty! I thought I lost you to the warp!¡± The warp? I think this gal¡ªFriederika¡ª smacked some actual sense into me since now my memories are coming back to me. Before¡­ whatever nightmare fuel that was, I was aboard the Yilan, and we were warping to the Valspon system. Then that means¡­ I widened my eyes, ¡°does that mean the operation already started?!¡± Friederika nods in response, although with a bit of confusion. ¡°Don¡¯t you hear the warning siren?¡± She asks curiously. With that said, I realize my ears are still ringing since I could barely hear Friederika as it is¡ªwere they ringing this whole time? Soon enough, however, the ringing does stop and I can hear the siren that repeats every couple minutes, with a deep male voice announcing all hands to battle stations. Before I can add another question, Lieutenant Plotte approaches us with a concerned look amid annoyed eyes of bridge operators. ¡°If the two of you are done making a lovely scene, I would like for you two to head for the missile launch bay.¡± Friederika and I give our salute and proceed to head out, but I decide to hang back while Friederika jogs ahead. ¡°Ah¡­ Lieutenant Pluto, I¡¯ve been curious¡­¡± I feel a bit reluctant to ask, almost childish even. I¡¯m sure Paul is safe and sound, but¡­ ¡°Hmm? What is it, ensign?¡± Plotte is staring at a holographic overlay of a Side colony while conversing. Mini ships circle the cylinder-shaped space habitat. ¡°Ah, um, I was just curious if¡­ there were any ship casualties so far.¡± Is that a good way to word it? ¡°Basically, uh¡ªI was curious if there were any reports of something like¡­¡± ¡°The Haulian? You can be at ease Happ. There have been no reports of the Hualian being hit, much less casualties. As a matter of fact,¡± the elder Plotte rubs his chin in confusion ¡°the pirate fleet has hardly initiated counter barrages¡­ only a single missile boat has sustained damage.¡± With those words, I feel more at ease. ¡°If that is all, ensign Happ, please get going now. I¡¯m not operating a daycare here.¡± He gives me a dismissive wave as he turns to pick up a nearby transceiver. With another salute, I run off to join Friederika. I mean, it was just a dream after all. What am I getting worked up over I wonder? The Hualian is a tough ship. It would take more than a few punches to knock it out¡ªand it has escape shuttles too. Paul will be fine¡­ All of the Yilan¡¯s missile loading stations are on the upper decks of the ship, usually preoccupying the whole top space of the ship, as is general Federation design. Though, at the academy, I have heard rumors that Ruthenia warships are gun battery-oriented, which is something to do about different naval doctrines. I¡¯ve never been on one myself, though, or seen any real photographs of one. I take an elevator up to the top deck. As I wait, I watch the battle unfold through the open-glass window¡ªas expected, Lieutenant Plotte is correct on his assumption about the pirate ships. From what I can see, barrages go one way and not the other¡ªwhich is a good thing of course. But that does make me wonder¡­ why aren¡¯t the pirates returning much fire at all? Generally, when you get shot at, you kind of want to relieve the pressure and return the favor, no? The elevator comes to a halt, and the doors open. To my surprise, my annoying dark-haired sub-lieutenant friend is standing in front of the door with an open mouth. ¡°Ah¡­ Kiki, why aren¡¯t you at your station?¡± She smirks, ¡°I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t realize you ditched me for the lieutenant?¡± I give her a roll of the eyes, ¡°please, he¡¯s not particularly my type, and he¡¯s probably, like, ten years older than me at least.¡± ¡°Older guys are better, you know? Being experienced and all¡ª¡± I slap Friederika on the shoulder. ¡°Alright, whatever, were you coming back for me then?¡± She nods ¡°I figured you didn¡¯t know where to go. ¡°Knowing you, you will get lost like a child in a supermarket.¡± She can¡¯t help but give me an annoying smug that I resist punching in. But as much as I do, I already am in trouble with Buttermilch and don¡¯t want to risk more once this operation concludes. ¡°Anyways, right this way. We¡¯re over in compartment 1-Y.¡± Freiderika finishes by grabbing me by the hand and running down the hallway. ¡°Ah¡­!¡± The door slides open with a woosh and Friederika shoves me in. ¡°Hey, what¡¯s the big idea¡­!?¡± Ignoring me, Friederika salutes a fat man in uniform examining documents just off to our side. ¡°Sub-lieutenant Trachenberg, reporting in!¡± Oh! Right. I need to address him too. I clamp my boots together with a clack and give Meatloaf a textbook salute. ¡°Ensign Happ-Schwarzenberger, reporting for duty!¡± I exclaim dutifully. Without even bothering to look up, officer Meatloaf scratches his triple chin. ¡°Mmm¡­ yes¡­ yes¡­¡± With a smack of his lips, he points behind him at the loading station. ¡°Do whatever my team tells you and avoid getting in their way too much.¡± The words rolling out of his fat neck bring such pain to my ears makes me immediately wish he would stop talking. Honestly, just from that, it makes me wonder how this porkchop even became an officer? Friederika and I clack our boots one last time and fall in with the rest of the group. An enormous missile battery stood in plain view, half-obscured by the floor cutout it was positioned in. Its bulk is held by two hulking, steel supports that connect to two platforms on the ceiling; each surface is sprinkled with rivets and welds. Two dozen missiles lay in wait behind its industrial gray caps, each as thick as my thigh and several times my height. I¡¯ve seen models of this missile launcher before, but not exactly like this. At the academy, they have ones where they are more square in dimension and have lesser cell slots. Judging from the height, I could probably guess the Yilan ones are longer to accommodate for a bigger missile length. ¡°You two,¡± one of the other operators calls out to Friederika and me, ¡°do you have any experience with loading missile tubes?¡± ¡°Yes, at the academy they gave us hands-on experience with dummy launches.¡± I reply for both of us, ¡°but sadly it was rather limited due to budget constraints or something. So don¡¯t worry! We¡¯re not that new¡± I finish by puffing out my chest. A wall-mounted phone begins ringing. Officer Meatloaf rubs his nose and wipes it off on his neck¡ªgross!¡ª and amazingly uses his lower limbs to walk over to it with ease. He brings the receiver to his ear and addresses the speaker in a mumbling voice. Officer Meatloaf turns to us, ¡°begin loading the missiles!¡± He barks in a voice that I couldn¡¯t even possibly think was intimidating. But regardless of how the others felt about his nasal voice. We do as we are told, and through the use of a small crane slide one missile out of the rack onto our grouped up shoulders. ¡°Heave-ho! Heave-ho!¡± The operators shout in unison. The weight of the missile is shared by everyone, but it still feels heavy! ¡°Hah¡ªhah¡ªwhy don¡¯t they¡ªhah!¡ªautomate this kind of stuff!¡± I cry out in between our exact chants. One of the older gentlemen responds in a dry tone. ¡°Our Yilan is an older model¡ªspecifically¡ªhm¡ªone of the first built in ¡®14. Some of the newer ones are¡­ more streamlined. But we are not as lucky, upgrading takes time and effort. Lotta bolks on capitol hill are hell bent on making more and leaving the older ones to rot¡ªkinda like the veterans like me.¡± I nod and continue ¡°ah¡ªhah¡ªwhat is this ¡ªhah!¡ªmissile anyway?¡± I ask in-between the grunting pants. ¡°W14 Standard issue anti-ship nuclear fusion missiles.¡± Old Geezer says with apathy. ¡°Ah¡­ I see¡± I nod my head before the words sink in¡ª¡±EH???¡± I almost want to stop in shock but since I¡¯m in the middle I have to keep pace. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Nuclear what now missiles? ¡°A-are all of these nuclear weapons?¡± I ask more morbidly. As we carefully slide the deadly ammunition into one of the cells the old geezer shakes his head. ¡°I thought you said you have experience with missiles. They didn¡¯t teach you what you would be loading, did they?¡± I shake my head. No, they merely tell you it¡¯s missiles and nothing else. Missiles could be any kind of warheads, really. But nuclear ones I would have never guessed! I¡¯m suddenly reminded again of the documentary I watched years ago. The segment where the nukes are launched all across the globe. And here we are almost three hundred years later, tossing these monstrosities at other ships. What a bizarre world we live in. Old Man face-palms to suppress his disapproving sigh. ¡°They¡¯re sending us pups and babes without any idea of what they¡¯re heading into¡­¡± Through patience and precision, we place the missile on top of one of the entry cell points. From there we then painstakingly lower it in with a hand crane until only the tip of the warhead is visible in the launcher. We repeat the rest of this mundane process with the rest of the missile stock until the launcher is at full capacity. ¡°And I believe next is¡­¡± My words trail off as I look at the open ceiling hatch that looms over the missile battery. ¡°Is this part automatic, at least?¡± I ask. Old Man nods, ¡°yes, they managed to upgrade that much before deployment.¡± A seaman stands over a command console and inputs something. When he finishes, a click¡ªthen hydraulic humming as the steel supports lifts the launcher into the open hatch. The launcher is only halfway when we hear the sound of another click from inside the hatch. Then the steel supports disconnect from the bulk as the rest of it disappears into the hatch. ¡°Close the hatch!¡± Officer Meatloaf barks and a taller seaman sets up a small ladder to step on. With a continued grunt, the lanky seaman uses all his upper strength to slam the steel hatch shut, rolls the wheel, and steps off to dust himself. I feel so impressed that I whistle a tune. The beauty of technology! I can¡¯t imagine breaking my back over lifting that bad-boy in. With that thought I can¡¯t help but shudder, I can¡¯t even begin to imagine what could happen if the container was dropped, or for that matter, if a single one fell while we carried it to the missile launcher. And now¡­ Officer Meatloaf is still on the receiver, and aside from the occasional jiggle from nodding there is silence in the room. Then he lifts it from his over-sized ear to rest it on his mountain chin. ¡°Well gentlemen,¡± he does a deep throat clearing that causes his folds to rumble¡ªgod, gross!¡ª¡±and ladies¡­ standby for firing. Fire control team¡­ please look over the¡­ uh, attack coordinates, and affirm when you are ready. ¡± Friederika and I along with the rest of the crew shuffle off to the side, but a couple stays behind at command consoles. As the seamen operate at the computers I hear mechanical rattling from behind us. Curiously, I look behind at the source of the noise and find that a conveyor belt is rolling in racks of more missiles with secured straps to ensure they do not fall over. ¡°Ah¡­ in the meantime, please take the racks off the conveyor and prepare them for rapid loading.¡± As we lift the racks one by one and set them down for unfastening Officer Meatloaf says briskly as he looks over one of the seamen at the console. ¡°I believe we are ready for launch on our end now?¡± The two seamen give one last prep and give him a thumbs up for approval. ¡°Right then, ahem,¡± with another of that shudder-worthy throat clear, Meatloaf speaks calmly into his receiver ¡°commander, our section is ready for the firing line.¡± Meatloaf nods at the feedback from the other end. Once again, he rests the phone on his neck as he looks up at the hatch. Similarly, others also follow his gaze. There is a sudden jerk of the ship. Not long after, a continuous siren breaks the room¡¯s silence. ¡°W-what¡¯s that sound for?¡± I yell over it at Old Geezer amid another jerk of the ship. ¡°The Yilan¡¯s section is rapidly moving into the next firing line! It¡¯s standard Federation doctrine for God¡¯s sake. They haven¡¯t even told you that much?!¡± He yells over the wail of the siren. Before I can argue back, Meatloaf clears his throat louder than usual. ¡°Enough you two!¡± Officer Meatloaf yells over the alarm and swiftly brings the receiver back to his elephant ear. ¡°Yes, sir¡ªunderstood!¡ª¡± Cupping the ear of the receiver with his other giant hand, Meatloaf barks at us again, ¡°Missile barrage will begin momentarily!¡± He lets go of the hand covering the microphone and grabs onto the railing attached to the wall. ¡°Fireteam! We have a go¡ªfire when ready! Everyone else, brace for impact!¡± Everyone grabs hold of the wall railings and either shields their face or looks away. The obnoxious siren fades to the sound of metallic thuds from above. With each resonating impact, a puff of smoke escapes the sealed hatch, making the room somewhat hazy with each successive leak of smoke. This must be the missile salvo, I think to myself. One of the operators looks up from his monitor ¡°All missiles launch¡ª¡± The ship violently shakes¡ª Just as the wonderful cries of the whooping siren graces my ears again, the perspective of the room begins to rotate to the side. Wait, rotate? The bright yellow hue that lights up the room flickers off to bask the compartment in a red hue. The poor gerbils in my head have to sprint faster in their wheel to register the contents of that thought. I look around and blink my eyes like a camera shutter. We¡¯re rotating¡­? ¡°Ah¡­!¡± I hold on for dear life as some objects begin sliding toward one end of the room. ¡°The Yilan¡­!¡± One of the seamen shouts in terror. The vibration from the soles of my boot is all that it takes for me to register what is going on exactly. Some of the other seamen boots fail to activate in time and bodies of flesh slide across the floor¡ªnow the wall¡ª to the wall¡ªnow the floor¡ª in cries of surprise. Amazingly, even officer Meatloaf¡¯s boots activate in time. Yet, he clings on to his wall mount just in case, given his weight, I imagine he wouldn¡¯t need the boots in the first place. ¡°S-secure the missile rackets! S-strap them back up!¡± He yells out trying to maintain composure. Those that can rush to the racks sliding at a snail¡¯s pace as they professionally strap it back into place. Officer Meatloaf confirms with his phone buddy and gives us what I believe is supposed to be a look of reassurance. ¡°The pirates have begun firing back. One projectile only scraped the side and failed to explode on impact. ¡°¡­Engineers believe it malfunctioned. If any of you still believe in celestial beings, now is the time to thank them!¡± There are collective sighs of relief in the room. To think just a few moments ago, we would all be space debris¡­ Actually, I wonder what their missile payloads consist of? Nuclear ones too I assume? It¡¯s a thought I don¡¯t want to think too much about. The Yilan manages to stabilize its gravity soon after, and the state of the room returns to normal. The siren ceases, and the yellow saturated light is restored. The unfortunate bunch who were unlucky enough to get their turn on mumble as they restore items to their original places. ¡°Ahem, just because the worst is over doesn¡¯t mean you can relax. Reload the missile launcher at once!¡± Officer Meatloaf barks in his not so scary voice. Mr. Lanky makes his way towards the hatch and with some exhaustive grunts, opens the hatch door. He motions for the operator to lower the launcher. After some hydraulic humming, the bottom of the launcher slips into view, and it¡¯s steel support latches onto it once more and brings it into the cut-out floor. ¡°¡­And just like that, the progress starts all over?¡± I ask Old Man who kneels and helps unfasten the strap. He gives a nod, ¡°right about now, the section behind us will move into the next firing lane to unleash their salvo¡­ and so on.¡± He replies matter of factly. As we load missiles into the cells, officer Meatloaf calls out to me, ¡°Oi! You¡­ uh¡­ what was it again¡­¡± Meatloaf rubs his Mount Fuji of a neck¡ªseriously it makes my stomach turn just looking at it! ¡±¡ªEnsign Happy and sub-lieutenant Trackerberg! Yes¡­ yes. The bridge wants you two back down there.¡± Ignoring the fact that he completely flubbed our names, Friederika and I salute and head for the elevator. I turn to the Old Man one last time and exchange nods. He gives me a casual salute and a wink. After the door slides shut behind us, Friederika breaks the silence with a rumbling sigh. ¡°That was too much work! I don¡¯t even think our coaches made us work that hard!¡± We step inside the elevator and press a button to take us down. ¡°You¡¯re as lazy as always, eh?¡± ¡°Oh quiet you!¡± Friederika playfully slaps on the shoulder. While waiting for the time to pass, we both watch the ensuing battle in silence. A few rows ahead of the Yilan, there is a line of Federation ships unleashing a well-disciplined salvo of missiles, just as Old Man had said. Their destination was the Side colony in the distance; the enormous industrial gray cylinder dwarfs the miniature-sized ships of various designs maneuvering around it. ¡°Hit¡­hit¡­ hit¡­ Come on¡­ hit!¡± Friederika says under her breath. She¡¯s getting a bit into this, isn¡¯t she? On occasion, brief flashes of fiery balls could be seen among their ranks. Sometimes a projectile would zip by towards us from the enemy, but it often happens so fast it never registers until after the fact. After one line finished, a row behind them would advance and keep up the pressure, while the spent Federation ships retired to the rear undercover. It¡¯s a sight to behold, but something about it just says¡­ rigid. I suppose it¡¯s a good thing we¡¯re facing what¡¯s basically a mob force¡ªif you can even call it that¡ªbut how would it do against a more organized force? If this Madame Scarface was at the helm, would she let something like this happen? No, I shake my head. This pirate fleet feels a bit too¡­ sloppy. Too amateur; this clearly must be a novice commander, no doubt. Which is a good thing but¡­ I think I¡¯m getting ahead of myself, but it feels like this doctrine only works against a certain enemy, right? Against an organized defense¡­ it doesn¡¯t seem like it would do well. I wonder what the doctrine calls for on the defense¡­? I wonder if Buttermilch¡ªor even Hugo¡ªis wondering the same thing?¡­ The train of thought trails off until the elevator reaches the destination. We jog alongside the slow-moving conveyor and enter the ship bridge soon enough, where lieutenant Plotte is waiting for us with several men and women in astro suits. We promptly give our salutes to Plotte and the others. ¡°Ensign Happ, reporting in!¡± ¡°Sub-lieutenant Trachenberg, reporting in, sir!¡± Lieutenant Plotte returns the salute and gestures towards the astronauts, ¡°I¡¯m handing you over this team of engineers. We need some able-bodied personnel to locate and remove the missile lodged into the ship¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªI¡¯m sorry, I think the siren made me deaf. Did you say lodged into the ship?¡± I blurt out without thinking. Plotte sighs before continuing, ¡°not exactly lodged into the ship, but it dug in a little into the side and remained stuck from what we observed. ¡°So we need to get a shuttle out as soon as possible, locate it, confirm it can be removed, and discard it.¡± ¡°Discard it, how, exactly?¡± Friederika says in my place, even she looks confused. ¡°Are you¡­ saying that we still have a live missile or whatever that could go off any given second?¡± I add out of curiosity. It¡¯s terrifying. One of the astronauts flips their visor up. ¡°It¡¯s possible, but we don¡¯t know for sure.¡± Yeah, that is a bit terrifying! ¡°So please put on space suits and sortie out as soon as you can with them.¡± ¡°Pluto¡­ you aren¡¯t just like, making us suffer from all these errands, are you?¡± I again blurt out without rationally considering what I just said. ¡°Well, first of all, no. Second of all that is lieutenant Plotte to you, ensign Happ-Schwarzenberger.¡± Plotte retorts as he sees us off. Talk about attitude.
ON THE YILAN''S STARBOARD SIDE
IN SMALL UTILITY SHUTTLE
¡°This suit is too big!¡± Friederika whines. ¡°Are you sure? It seemed to fit you like a glove.¡± I reply sarcastically. ¡°Why you, are you calling me fat?¡± ¡°You mean to tell me you aren¡¯t?¡± I ask with sarcasm. ¡°If it weren¡¯t for these suits I would strangle you by¡ª¡± ¡°Quiet you two!¡± One of the astronauts piloting the shuttle turns to her partner, ¡°Prince must be out of his mind to ask us to baby some kids for him¡­ anyway,¡± the astronaut turns to us again, ¡°do either of you know how to operate a crane?¡± My arm indistinctly shoots up, ¡°yes ma¡¯am! I played a lot of them at arcades back home.¡± Out of the corner of my eye, I see Friederika giving me a look of disapproval. ¡°Well¡­er¡­ I suppose that¡¯s close enough, yeah?¡± She looks to her co-pilot for confirmation, ¡°yeah?¡± She turns back to face us, ¡°Yeah, I suppose that works. Just be careful. Because instead of little plush toys you¡¯re dealing with something that can kill us all. ¡°And you,¡± she points at Friederika, ¡°use the camera monitor to help guide her.¡± With a nod, we both get to our stations. The crane control panel is rather simple. Maybe a little too simple. ¡°A few knobs and some buttons¡­ this kind of is a crane machine, isn¡¯t it?¡± I ask offhandedly to Friederika. ¡°Uh-huh.¡± Was the only reply back. A transmitter cackles on. ¡°Happ, we have located the warhead. Please proceed with grabbing it with the crane claw¡ªcarefully.¡± The voice of the woman from before instructs us. Well, that¡¯s easy for you to say. Carefully, I guide the crane using the screen in front of me as a reference. Although Friederika had a better view, mine was more limited. ¡°A little more to the right¡­ down¡­ down some more¡­ hm¡­¡± ¡°Hurry up back there, the Yilan needs to speed up to the firing line.¡± Boy, I wish I could wipe the sweat off my brow, but this visor is in the way! With enough patience, I¡¯m finally able to get the missile within the crane''s grasp. ¡°Nice, Vicky! Now just carefully grab it with the claw!¡± Friederika says trying to contain her excitement from jumping up and down. What else would you expect from the regional crane champion? Now let¡¯s see¡­ I press one of the buttons aptly labeled GRAB. The immediate result is the claw fastening its grip on the colorful-tipped shell. ¡°¡­Good one back there! Now take it out¡­¡± ¡°¡­And just like this, right?¡± I pull down on one of the knobs, and the minuscule delay in the crane pulls the grabbed shell back to our shuttle. With some more knob movement, I position the crane just underneath the shuttle at Friederika¡¯s instructions. Now that the Yilan becomes free of the warhead, it accelerates forward to the next firing lane. From a nearby window, I watch as a platoon of astronauts with jet-packs flies underneath towards the warhead. Some carry with them toolboxes. ¡°Hm? They¡¯re going to disable it?¡± I ask in confusion. ¡°Well¡­ It¡¯s the only thing left to do, right? So it doesn¡¯t explode and sends¡­ what¡¯s that stuff called?¡ªshrap¡­nel?¡ªyeah, that stuff everywhere at nearby ships.¡± I shrug, I suppose it makes sense. ¡°Say you ever think about what happens when stuff doesn¡¯t hit their target? Like, do they just go on forever, or¡­?¡± It was Friederika¡¯s turn to shrug. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Do I look like some kind of physicist to you? I imagine they run out of fuel and drift around for gods know when¡ªor maybe they just explode after a while is just my guess.¡±
BACK ON THE YILAN??
IN THE BRIDGE ROOM
By the time we return to the Yilan, the front-line has shifted to the vicinity of the Side colony¡ªwhich some of the bridge staff identified as Side Malabo. Well, I say front-line, but the missile salvos stopped, and from what I can tell, the pirates are nowhere in sight. Looking out, I can see columns of Federation ships advancing behind the Malabo. Are they ensuring there are no pirate ships behind it? Searching for the anti-ship batteries, maybe? ¡°The fighting has more or less stopped, why is that?¡± I ask lieutenant Prince, who''s leaning over a bridge operator¡¯s computer screen. ¡°Commodore Hugo ordered the fleet to avoid wasting any more ammunition.¡± We both glance up at Buttermilch and Mazzareli having an exchange over something ¡°commander Buttermilch believes we risk killing innocent civilians if we fire warheads at the Malabo¡­¡± Well, it wouldn¡¯t be good publicity if we threw some warheads in and killed half the populace, that¡¯s for sure. I¡¯m thankful we have level-headed commanders, otherwise, historians might think of us as ill-intent bad guys. ¡°¡ªThat aside, he believes Hugo is planning to send in a few marine companies¡ª¡± ¡°Huh? Marine companies? That¡¯s a lot of risks, isn¡¯t it? Won¡¯t they just shoot the boarding ships?¡± I ask in complete surprise. Regardless, a Side colony has well over a million inhabitants in them! That and the fact the pirates can just blend in with the populace makes it all the more complicated. Prince can only offer a shake of his head. ¡°Back then, that was how we did things. But the safer, lengthier way is to wait them out¡­ generally, the crew would mutiny against their captains¡± The lieutenant adjusts his cap. ¡°But who knows if time is on our side?¡± ¡°What do you mean by that, Prince?¡± ¡°Well, ensign Happ,¡± he shoots a menacing glare while trying to keep composure ¡°there is the possibility of reinforcements, no? I heard about the results of the little war-game you did with sub-lieutenant Trachenberg. But I share the sentiment that if we stay as one force¡­ we still have a chance of restoring Federation order in Toscana for good.¡± If we stay as one force¡­ I¡¯m glad I managed to convince at least some of the officers. ¡°So what now? I suppose we are waiting for resupply?¡± Prince nods his head, ¡°after that, it¡¯s most likely we will send the marines in¡­¡± But something from the Malabo caught my eye. Similarly, there were murmurs on the bridge as the focus changed to the Malabo¡¯s entrance. A path of traffic beams flickers on. A single flat-roofed shuttle emerges along the path set by the traffic beams. An officer holding a phone approaches commander Buttermilch. ¡°Sir! Permission to fire on the shuttle?¡± But Buttermilch only grunts. ¡°They¡¯re too trigger happy up there¡­ no! Do not fire. It could be¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªSir!?¡± A radio operator stands up from his desk. ¡°It¡¯s a civilian shuttle! They¡¯re asking for a safe escort through the fleet!¡± ¡°Put it on speaker.¡± Buttermilch orders to the operator. The silence of the bridge room is filled with harsh static as a voice pleads for safe passage through the fleet. A knot in my stomach tells me something is off. Such a small shuttle, you would think more people will want to escape the ensuing mayhem. Mazzareli looks concerned as well, and he passes on information to the CO. ¡°Wait! Ask the shuttle how many are on on-board and if any more refugees are waiting for transit!¡± The radio operator does as he is told, but it seems he is getting increasingly frustrated communicating with the shuttle. ¡°I-it¡¯s no use, sir! Their signal is getting worse.¡± Why would it get worse¡­? Buttermilch rushes over to the radio operator and pushes him aside, ¡°This is commander Buttermilch of the MSN Yilan! Do you have more refugees on the way?¡± It seems Buttermilch is getting no luck as well. In frustration, he slams the receiver down on the desk. ¡°Damn it all! Ask the rest of the fleet to lessen any radio jamming signals, we can¡¯t get through to the refugees!¡± The radio operator reluctantly picks up the receiver again and does as he is told. His expression changes to confusion. ¡°S-sir, there is very little to no transmission jamming in place. It¡¯s not coming from our fleet.¡± The flat shuttle approaches the first line of Federation ships ever closer. I just can¡¯t make any sense of it, if it¡¯s getting closer, why is the signal still bad¡­? Wait a minute. The realization comes like a piano drop. A piano drop I should have avoided. A piano drop we should have all avoided. I want to reach out to Buttermilch, but I feel frozen in place. Friederika, Prince, and nearby officers look at me in confusion, but their expressions shift to the same realization. ¡°Sir! Incoming video feed!¡± Another console operator shouts. The oblivious Buttermilch barks for it to be turned on. After some technical difficulties getting the feed through, the large display shows a haggard old man with a bandaged head and an arm in a makeshift sling. There is no one else around him. ¡°What is the meaning of this? Where is the rest of the evacuating civilians?¡± Buttermilch demands, but the old man only lets out a roaring laugh. ¡°It seems the Federation lap-dogs nose is losing its sense of smell!¡± He gives us a wide toothless grin. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t notice a trap if it was dangling in front of you!¡± Confusion leads to horror. Horror leads to fear. Fear leads to... Mazzareli, as if struck by slow motion, reels around and extends out a hand toward us, eyes wide. Words come out of his mouth, but I can¡¯t make out what he¡¯s saying. Next to him, the color drains from Buttermilch¡¯s body. The old invalid gives us a triumphant salute. The terrifying expression¡ªthe eyes bulging out of their sockets, the grin of a nightmarish crook¡ªmakes him look like am ugly demon straight out of folklore of yore. ¡°¡­BURN IN HELL¡­. ¡°FEDERATION SCUM!¡± And with that, the old invalid is engulfed by vicious flames as the feed cuts out. ¡°CLOSE THE WINDOWS! CLOSE THE¡ª¡± Mazzareli¡¯s scream is cut short by an enormous explosion from the shuttle. The siren alarm lets loose a continuous wail as the lights flicker red. The shutters creak and moan as they roll down; some had frantically tried to force them down faster. ¡°IT¡¯S TOO LATE!¡± ¡°TAKE COVER!¡± ¡°HIT THE DECK!¡± ¡°MULTIPLE SIGNATURES EMERGING FROM THE MALABO!¡± ¡°VICTORIA! GET DOWN!¡± The last thing I see before Prince tackles me down to the floor are volleys of pellets indiscriminately shredding through flesh and metal like hot butter. The crash to the floor robs me of all my energy. My head is nothing but sharp, excruciating stinging. My surroundings become indistinguishable. Blobs of bright colors crash next to me or run across my vision. The ship shakes violently for what feels like forever. The long continuous wails of howling beasts fill my ringing ears as consciousness fades. Chapter 19: Memories of Toscana | Times of Sacrifice
IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE FIRE-SHIP DETONATION
IN THE MALABO¡¯S DOCKING BAY ABOARD THE PATTANI
Godspeed you magnificent bastard. ¡°Now!¡± Che springs forward from his command chair. ¡°Do not let his sacrifice be in vain!¡± His thunderous voice resonates throughout the station. In response the roar of dozens of ships causes a rumbling quake throughout the vast bay¡ª some have taken the initiative and launched out of the docking bay at record speed. The Pattani joins the flock of ships taking flight, and the ensuing physics throws Che back into his chair as the Pattani accelerates out of the Malabo entrance. ¡°Do not falter! Push through! They would not dare attack this close range!¡± There are no signs of hesitation in his manly voice¡ªonly resolve. But deep down, Che is scared shit-less. There hasn¡¯t been a single point in life where he did not want to empty his bowels as much as he has now¡ªexcept for the time that his father¡¯s crew first found him when he was a child. But he needed to be strong¡ªhe needed to be strong for his men. That is what a commander does, after all. But rather or not Che will admit it, he is not a commander. He never had the martial skill that Li or Simon had. His expertise¡ªif you want to call it that¡ªwas being a governor. This prowess was made up for with his adjuncts, of course, but they can only do so much. But who is it to blame for this disaster? The master or the subordinate? ¡°Brace for impact! They¡¯re trying to block our¡ª¡± ¡°Show your resolve!¡± Che nearly breaks one of his armchairs in retaliation, ¡°Ram them if you have to!¡± The Pattani narrowly avoids contact with Federation ships that attempt to steer into their way, but the Pattani prevails. There is a sharp turn of the ship as it rips through the rest of the blockage to freedom. ¡°We are not out of the woods yet! Maximize speed outputs to keep the distance!¡± Che barks¡ªhis throat is getting increasingly sore from playing pretend commander. The Federation ships still need to turn around to pursue them¡ªbut that thought is interrupted by the reflections of brightness originating from the Malabo. Turning around, Che is caught off guard; did one of his fire that? Nonetheless, the resulting chain reaction should be enough to delay them for a little while longer. ¡°Contact Darcy if you can, I need reports of who broke through. Also¡­ ¡°Broadcast to any remaining informing them we will regroup at the Baltit.¡± He commands one of the young operators, who salutes and tends to the radio station. But before Che can relax and enjoy a bottle of rum, his fantasies are cut short when a nearby subordinate suddenly yanks him by the collar. ¡°¡ªTo the Baltit?¡± The man gives him a look of bewilderment¡ªhis lips pursed in anger. ¡°Are you out of your mind?!¡± Before Che can react, he points to the startled radio officer. ¡°No, cancel that order. Transmit a signal that we are withdrawing from the Valspon system¡­¡± Abandoning Valspon? No. Father would not approve of such actions. ¡°We¡¯ll regroup at the L¨¹beck system and send a request for support to¡ª¡± The anger at this insubordination makes Che brush off the adjunct and grab him by the collar¡ªand yanks him to Che¡¯s face. ¡°You want ME to abandon the people of Valspon to the enemy? Are YOU out of your mind? Do you know what that will ENTAIL?! The wrath of the Don! Certain death! Not for just me¡­¡± Che shoves the subordinate away and extends an arm towards the bridge crew. ¡°But for ALL of you. ¡°Do I make myself CLEAR? If you wish to avoid an uneventful fate by being a tiger meal¡­¡± Che¡¯s unfazed eyes turn to the terrified radio operator who seems like he is about to wet himself, ¡±you will cancel that last order and broadcast the previous one. We will reorganize at Baltit.¡± It seems the adjunct does not know when to back down, ¡°and how exactly do you expect to send word to the Don in time, and hold out long enough for reinforcements to arrive, Che?¡± ¡°It is simple, we will send a messenger to the Don.¡± ¡°Not a transmission?¡± The inquiry is predictable, but it rouses murmurs in the room. This subordinate is trying hard to make Che look like a fool¡ªbut a fool Che is not. The radio operator quips in ¡°Sir! If I may¡­ the Federation jamming is still strong¡­¡± ¡ªAt this distance? Che looks out the bridge window behind him. The Federation fleet was still scrambling to reorganize for pursuit. But Che is not the one to argue¡ªhe isn¡¯t the specialist after all. ¡°¡­Even just giving in contact with the scattered fleet is difficult. The signal will be too faint to reach the Don.¡± The subordinate rubs his temples. ¡°And contacting L¨¹beck is out of the question too?¡± Che gives his beard a stroke. True¡­ even just reaching L¨¹beck will be difficult given the situation the fleet is in. ¡°On second thought, it will be more logical sending the messenger to the nearest Side in L¨¹beck, no?¡± Che paces around the room, all eyes following his every move, ¡°if the messenger goes straight from here to the Don in the Velksland system it will possibly incapacitate him before he can deliver the message.¡± Rapid warping across a long distance has shown to have life-threatening strains on the human body. It can lead to exhaustion much quicker and even cause the warper to slip into a coma. But drastic times do call for drastic measures. The sacrifice of one can be beneficial for the many as they have witnessed firsthand not too long ago. Oh, how regrettable it is to waste life in such an awful manner. Ah, how badly Che wants to just relax and wash his sadness in booze. No, that can come later. After they get this headache done with. ¡°¡­Then the messenger can either pass on the intel to authorities, who will then send a transmission to the Don, or send the next runner to relay the rest.¡± ¡°Then what?¡± ¡°Then¡­¡± Che stops. ¡°Then how will the Don respond?¡± ¡°¡­¡± ¡°Che?¡± ¡°¡­¡± ¡°How do you think the fleet will make it in time to relieve the siege?¡± Che looks him straight in the eyes with determination. ¡°He will come¡­ or she will.¡± He delivers those words with full reassurance. In truth, it is a white lie. Che doesn¡¯t believe their father will allow Li control of a fleet¡ªmuch less a seizable formation. It¡¯s a dangerous variable in the grand scheme of things for the Don. The problematic discord between father and daughter is not something that is fully understood by most¡ªmany are not aware of Dong¡¯s paranoia of Li overthrowing him in some way. But the matter is a white elephant in the room. From Che¡¯s point of view, the Don will be left in a precarious situation. If he excuses himself from Velksland amid watchful Federation eyes, Li could collaborate with the Federation leaving the pirate republic to fall immediately. If he sends Li¡­ Well, whatever Li may do while passing the capital can go in several ways. Rather or not the Oliver fellow resists or joins her cause is another matter entirely. Li certainly is an unpredictable element, isn¡¯t she? Hell, Che will even go as far as to say she¡¯s a bigger threat than even the Federation. Che scrunches his brow, well, perhaps that might be a little exaggerating, because who knows what the Federation will do with her despite her collaboration. Che now sees how Li makes the Don experience sleepless nights. Regardless, its a risk they¡ªeveryone¡ªwill need to take. Even if the relief fleet fails to arrive in time, Che can hope to deliver a big enough dent in Federation numbers so that either the Don or Li can drive them off. But that aside¡­ ¡°If that is all, let¡¯s get things moving along. Find someone willing to volunteer for the mission and send them off on a shuttle.¡± ¡°A shuttle, sir?¡± ¡°If we do anything bigger than such, the Federation will send ships to intercept it. It¡¯s risky, but nobody has ever achieved success by not taking such ventures. I wager the Federation will pass it in favor of securing the Cluster¡­¡± In theory, though, they would not need to go that far for all the Sides in the Cluster. If Baltit falls, then its only natural that the adjutant Sides will too. ¡°The shuttle has the benefit of traversing faster given its size¡­¡± Che strokes his beard. Oh, how he yearns for some tobacco! ¡°It might help to strip it to the bare minimum¡­ ¡°If the pilot can wear a suit, we can strip away some needless weight like a life support system to guarantee it can out-pace any potential pursers.¡± When Che finishes, the subordinate asks him with a stare that says what now? to which Che heaves a mountainous sigh, ¡°haah¡­ if that is all, then get moving!¡± These people are giving him bigger and nastier headaches¡ªnever mind the Federation juggernaut hot on their tail. Oh, how Che wishes he had it easy with drones that did what they are told! But sadly, Che received the short end of the stick. Che sees off the subordinate then slumps down into his chair, one arm holding up his head. The throbbing just does not want to stop. In fact, it has gotten even worse. Just what will it take to make it stop?! If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. Che looks to the side of his chair¡ªand low and behold there is a large bottle of rum! In an attempt to quench his thirst, Che reaches out for it and¡­ ¡°Captain!¡ª¡± ¡°What! What is it?!¡± Che barks without even knowing, the arm freezes in place. The operator flinches from the yelling but regains composure. ¡°I¡¯ve received a good enough transmission from Darcy, She made a head-count of ships that made it through¡­¡± ¡°Good¡­ good. How much of them can we count on for defense?¡± ¡°The whole formation is still intact. There were only several ships lost.¡± Several ships lost¡­ Che would prefer if the number equaled zero, but the number of sacrifices is necessary. That is, if it was any worse he could be left with tatters. ¡°Good, have you informed her to reorganize at the Baltit?¡± ¡°Darcy reports she is already on the way.¡± Che knew he could always count on Darcy. She knows when to be obedient and shut up, something that he wished the others would take a page out of. With that aside¡­ Che turns his attention back to the bottle he has a longing for. He reaches for it and pops off the cap. The worst is over at least. The thought casually crosses Che¡¯s mind as the inside of the rum bottle he consumes is drained of the bitter fluid. But to him, being able to finally dive in is enough to consider it sweet in of itself. Given the circumstances, it is a godsend that somebody managed to procure some beverages in a timely manner. But now that he has some spirits to lighten up him, the migraines seemingly dissipate. Che can tackle the issue at hand¡ªor at least damn try. The space habitat Che¡¯s Pattani journeys to draws near. Already some shuttles are rushing ahead of ships to enter its naval docks. ¡°If the communication permits it, tell the Baltit military officials to activate the anti-ship batteries.¡± A rejuvenated Che orders one of the communication staff. ¡°Sir?¡± ¡°If we hope to buy time for a relief fleet, it is best we use them as the first line of defense.¡± The truth of the matter is, the anti-ship systems will be the first to be destroyed, there¡¯s no question about it. It¡¯s better to use them when they have the chance because Che¡¯s options will dwindle to nothing when they are disabled. In the past, a pirate haven¡¯s best form of defense was a Side¡¯s anti-ship capabilities. If those were gone, a fate of mutiny or insurgency from the civilians was a pirate¡¯s two choices against a Federation siege. From what Che remembered, there were even cases of pirate crews disappearing deeper into a Side, or blending in with refugees. But that is all in the past. What separates the pirates of old and Zhui¡¯s mafia regime is consolidation: before Simon¡¯s pirate code there was very little cooperation between pirate captains if at all. Che grumbles as he swigs down the remainder of the bottle. Back in those days, it was a real dog eat dog world; Zhui¡¯s company was squabbling with other pirates and Federation-colonial might. Even so, back in those days, if push came to shove, the Dong fleet would always be mobile¡ªthere was always another system to fall back to. There would be cheering crowds of sailors celebrating their having escaped Federation grasp to fight another day. Che looks out the window as the Pattani aligns with the Baltit¡¯s runaway lights. With a shake of his bottle indicating its emptiness, Che heaves a long exhale and asks for a box of cigars to be delivered to him. The delivery was a quick one. Despite his rowdy crew, they can certainly be quick on his orders as it should be. In those days¡­ life was simple, all things considered. The Dong family was less frigid to one another. Li¡¯s military prowess was still immature, and Zhuui could sleep like a baby. But like with all things in life, the times change. The Orion Arm is becoming less of a place for the likes of pirate life. Che takes a long drag from the cigar. ¡­But once you grasp the forbidden fruit of piracy, is there such a thing as ever giving it up? Can a pirate ever truly forgo his nature and resettle as a hard-working citizen of the Federation? A dark thought brought about by the bitter rum enters his thoughts, could I surrender to the Federation, therefore saving the lives of my men and collaborating with the Federation lapdogs to save face? No¡­ Che grimaces and perishes the thought. No! Che is in too deep now to even consider that. It would make the sacrifices of the brave few in vain, would it not? When Che¡¯s time comes, could he look his subordinate in the eyes after all that? ¡°Captain, I hate to bother you, but¡­¡± One of his adjutants¡¯ steps into view. ¡°Has someone volunteered for the shuttle mission?¡± Che asks. ¡°Yes, sir¡ªthe maintenance crews has also completed stripping off most components of the shuttle as well. They calculate it should reach the capital in L¨¹beck within hours.¡± ¡°Hours, huh?¡± Che takes another long drag from his tobacco. ¡°I suppose it can¡¯t be helped to cut down the travel time?¡± The officer shakes his head, ¡°any more and we are putting the skeleton crew at greater risk than they already are.¡± ¡°Fair enough, where is the volunteer at now?¡± ¡°At the moment he is preparing to leave in the shuttle, but has to put on the astro suit first.¡± ¡°I see¡­¡± Che casually blows a swathe of toxic fumes. ¡°I will be down to see him off in a moment. I want to enjoy this cigar a little bit longer.¡± Is Che making the right call? Would it be in the fleet¡¯s best interest to withdrawal to L¨¹beck, after all? No, regardless if they win or not. The outcome will only spell death for Che¡ªregardless if the mafia etched out a victory or not¡­ But Che has to wonder¡­ what does victory even entail in this case? Unlike in the past, the 217 Mafia has nowhere left to hide. There will be no celebration even if by a miracle they managed to win through attrition and force Federation commanders to call off the expedition. What¡¯s to stop them from coming back the next year, raring to go? What would the Mafia¡¯s strength look like after this fight? There are so many questions swirling in Che¡¯s head that he wonders if he should lay off the alcohol for a while. It certainly is not something to consume when you¡¯re more or less down in the dumps. ¡°Maybe I should stick to cigars, after all,¡± Che mumbles as he squashes the cigar butt into the tray next to him. It would be wise to save the thoughts for after the battle. ¡°It¡¯s something for Li to worry about, after all.¡±
SOME THIRTY MINUTES LATER
ONE OF THE BALTIT¡¯S NAVAL DOCKYARD
The dock is rather busy, as it ought to be. There were maintenance vehicles all around, and ships of all sizes at various docking stations. An innumerable amount of people were running around or speeding in utility vehicles to and from destinations. The slow escalator that Che rode on allowed him to observe the scene before him. But more importantly enjoy the lovely artificial oxygen, free of deadly fumes, that flowed into his lungs. At the foot of the escalator is Darcy along with a company of her men. ¡°Darcy!¡± Che exclaims with open arms ¡°I am relieved that you can join me in these wonderful times.¡± Darcy ignores his open invitation for a hug and gestures for the utility vehicle behind her. ¡°I¡¯ve heard say you¡¯re sending a messenger to the capital? Mind telling me what that is about?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have to be so cold, Darcy¡­¡± Frankly, Che does deserve it with all the barking he did when the Federation showed up uninvited. It¡¯s only natural, is it not? With everyone seated or otherwise holding on the side, the cart cruises among the traffic of people. ¡°A transmission won¡¯t get through the Federation jamming, so we found it necessary to relay it through a messenger instead.¡± Darcy tilts her head, ¡°relay?¡± Che nods in confirmation. ¡°If we can at the very least get the information to Simon, he can pass the transmission safely onto the Don at Velksland.¡± ¡°Che, this plan is outrageous. Is there any reason why we can¡¯t just send a ship outside of the range of the Federation jammer systems?¡± Darcy¡¯s retort is a surprising one, but Che is not deterred by her opposition to it. ¡°If we pass off the courier in a shuttle it will not rouse Federation suspicions. Besides¡­¡± The cart comes to a stop in front of a modestly sized shuttlecraft. Most of it was indeed stripped down to the bare minimum needed for space travel¡ªthere were only the metal frames and the inner shell of the shuttle still left. That is if you can still call this a shuttle. ¡°It so happens we don¡¯t have long-range communication systems on most ships¡ªand even if we did it will take time to install it on the shuttle, no? Time that we don¡¯t have, mind you.¡± ¡°So why not send satellites to relay it instead?¡± Che turns to face her¡ªa look of genuine perplex across her face. Did Che jinx himself when he said Darcy is a good subordinate that knows when to shut up? In the annals of the Anno Domini, there was some medieval famous saying regarding a lady that dost protest too much. ¡°Darcy¡­ do you see a satellite laying around anywhere?¡± Che turns his head to face one direction. ¡°Hmmm¡­ I do not see one this way.¡± Che cranes his neck in the opposite direction. ¡°I dare say I don¡¯t see a satellite in tow anywhere, hm?¡± Darcy lets out a frustrated sigh, ¡°I think I do get your point, captain, but¡­¡± Does she still have questions? Darcy¡­ ¡°How do you expect the relief to come¡ªassuming the Don makes a good judgment call¡ªin the first place? The Federation will just strike at him from behind, no?¡± Che wonders how many more times he will have to repeat this conversation and refrains the urge to facepalm. It¡¯s almost beginning to feel like he¡¯s experiencing groundhog day. ¡°It¡¯s too much in the realm of speculation¡­¡± ¡°Captain, you¡¯re going to gamble the lives of your men on whimsical speculation?¡± Darcy is struggling to maintain her composure, and some of her men look uneasy. ¡°It gives the men hope.¡± ¡°Huuh?¡± Che can¡¯t help but crack a smile. ¡°Hope¡ªthe basis for a false sense of security. If the fleet believes it will save them from certain doom, then just maybe it will become reality.¡± But Darcy is right, it is more or less a complete gamble. In the olden days, they called it Russan roulette; a foolish game of luck with a chance of death. Rather or not a fleet returns to oppose the Federation lies only in the feeble belief of optimism. ¡°Do you have any other ideas, Darcy? I¡¯ve been racking my brain all day thinking of a solution to get out of this one.¡± Che can tell Darcy wants to say something, but can¡¯t bring herself to argue; she resigns to her superior¡¯s plan. ¡°Good!¡± Che exclaims with a clap of his hands ¡°Then it is settled then.¡± He scans the crowd in front of the shuttle for his future savior. ¡°Where is that brave volunteer?¡± The astronaut in question breaks away from some technicians that were finishing last-minute checks on him. He presents himself to Che with an energetic chest salute. ¡°Captain! I am honored to be able to undertake this mission!¡± Che lets loose a sly grin. Amid all his cynical adjutants, it is a good sign that the common thugs are more than eager to leap at the low hanging fruit without hesitation. That¡¯s good. Che is sometimes graceful his rowdy gang is composed of utter fools¡ªbut even fools have their usefulness. ¡°My child¡­¡± Che grabs him by the shoulders and squeezes. ¡°You are the bravest of us all. You will go down in history¡­ as the savior of the pirate republic.¡± Che peers into longingly the industrious young man¡¯s visor at his reflection. ¡°When this is all over¡ªI will make sure you are awarded riches beyond your wildest dreams.¡± The man, taken in by Che¡¯s words, huffs for air. ¡°J-just doing my part to secure my comrade¡¯s futures is the only award I would die for, captain!¡± Perfect, Che thinks to himself. It is whispering sweet nothings into this lad¡¯s ear. But Che doesn¡¯t feel too guilty about it for it is merely a white lie of some sort. He turns the young man around and gives him a gentle push toward the shuttle escalator. ¡°Then go! Go as fast as the heavens.¡± Che and the ground crew give the shuttle some room for takeoff. And with one last thunderous clap of boots clacking against each other the men and women of the Baltit send off their hopes and dreams with a salute. After the shuttle¡¯s departure, the business of the dockyard resumed. ¡°The easy part is done,¡± Che says after a long involuntary exhale. He turns to the critic subordinate from before. ¡°Are the anti-ship batteries up and operational by now?¡± The subordinate nods his head. ¡°Yes, and if you give the order, we can station a few ships as a defense line as well.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll permit it¡ªbut don¡¯t over commit too many of our ships. It will only serve as target practice for the Federation and we won¡¯t be able to withstand attrition. But that aside¡­¡± Che examines the long corridors leading out of the Baltit. ¡°¡ªWe should look at barricading the dockyards, no? The Federation will inevitably launch a surface assault one way or another.¡± Che clears his throat with anxiety. The migraine from before feels as though it is ready to pounce on his head again. ¡°I¡¯ll relay the order. Is there anything else, captain¡ª" ¡°Cigars. Lots of cigars.¡± The subordinate scratches his head. ¡°Okay¡­ I take it you will want some rum as well?¡± Che gives a shake of his head. ¡°I¡¯m beginning to find I get too philosophical if I drink. Cigars are a better alternative for me.¡± Che waves as he moves away from the adjutant, who soon found himself drowned out by the ambiance of the dockyard. ¡°Send the boxes to my quarters!¡± Che shouts back as he heaves himself on the utility vehicle. ¡°Take me back to the Pattani.¡± Che and his chauffeur ride back in silence. After thanking him, Che begins boarding the Pattani¡¯s escalator. ¡°It¡¯s going to be a long night,¡± Che mumbles as he looks back one last time at the ever-busy dockyard. Che, never being one for religion. Decided to pray. Pray that God may have mercy on their souls. Chapter 20: Memories of Toscana | Passing Time
NEAR THE MAIN L¨¹BECK CLUSTER
THE L¨¹BECK MISSION CONTROL SATELLITE
¡°Aaah, they make these shifts too long!¡± A young operator whines out-loud. He leans back into his back of his chair and rubs his hair in frustration. ¡°What numbskull thought it is a good idea to have them for over 9 hours?! I¡¯ll beat him to death!¡± A nearby colleague rolls his eyes. He clicks his tongue in annoyance. ¡°What is the rush Dickie? It is not like you have anything better to do,¡± The annoyed colleague takes a glance at his radar before continuing ¡°and it¡¯s not like there is anything to do while we¡¯re here.¡± Dickie shrugs because he has nothing to argue with. It¡¯s true, there are practically no recreational activities here. The station consists of their radar control room, the small cafeteria, and their housing barracks. Designed for work in mind, not so much what you do after work. ¡°After a shift like these, all you need is just a nap, no?¡± Dicky asks as he messes with the knobs and buttons at his station. ¡°Or, like, I dunno, when off schedule hit it off at the casino at Side Blanco. Shit dude, I don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°You gamble, Dickie?¡± The annoyed one asks in surprise. Dickie grins, ¡°Oh you know it. There is nothing more of a thrill than spending money to make more money.¡± ¡°With the wages they give us, I think it will be a wise option to invest in crypto.¡± The annoyed colleague surmises. But Dicky scoffs, ¡°are you serious? Crypto is like¡­ several times more dangerous than traditional gambling¡ª¡± ¡°Traditional gambling?¡± The colleague interrupts with sharp curiosity. ¡°Well, yeah, I mean, like, slots and whatnot, no? crypto is like, you invest in one Crypto and the next day¡­¡± Dickie throws his hands in the air and coos an explosion sound with his mouth ¡°¡ªand the next thing you know the crypto you invested in goes belly up! There goes junior¡¯s university funds, eh?¡± But his colleague only gives him a dumbfounded look. ¡°And literally how is that any different from when regular gambling? That¡¯s why you do your research on the legitimate ones, no?¡± Dickie sighs with contempt. ¡°It¡¯s the thrill of making big bucks or losing more than what you originally invested in.¡± Dickie flashes a wicked smile, ¡°crypto is the risk with none of the fun, you know? At least you know you will probably lose money, but you also know you might make some bank. Besides¡­¡± Dickie takes a glance at his radar before his eyes dart back at his annoyed colleague ¡°I know when to stop gambling! Rather if I make some losses or make some gains, I stop then and there.¡± Dickie said with total confidence. ¡°Yeah right, and I¡¯m the king of Angland.¡± ¡°Angland?¡± Dickie asks while he leans back into his chair to stare at the ceiling. ¡°Er¡­ you never heard that saying? When someone says something completely and utterly bullshit, someone else says ¡®and I¡¯m the king of Angland¡¯¡± ¡°¡­Right, wait, you¡¯re calling me a liar? I¡¯m being honest!¡± The colleague laughs it off, ¡°right, you know that¡¯s what a lot of gambler addicts say. ¡®Oh, I know when to quit! I can quit when I¡¯m still ahead!¡¯¡± He says in a high pitched mocking voice. Dickie only forcibly exhales, ¡°it¡¯s the truth I tell you!¡± But after the colleague ignores him Dickie raises his shoulder in resignation. ¡°But that aside¡­ what do you do in your time off?¡± He eyes his radar console for a brief moment before he leans back into staring at the ceiling. ¡°You know that really tiny compartment for smokers? The dinky lil¡¯ one in the corridor leading to our barracks? Yeah, I smoke in there. ¡± He exhales with a puff, ¡°what I would do for a smoke break right now. Dealing with your bullshit makes my hair turn gray.¡± He pulls back his sleeve to reveal a silver wristwatch that he inspects. ¡°Hmm, I believe I have one more hour or so until I can get just that, what about you?¡± He looks at Dickie, who lets out another agonized moan ¡°I still have like, another two hours! ¡° The colleague lets out a whistle, ¡°wow, you must have done something to anger the higher-ups, eh?¡± ¡°Haaah¡­ what did I do, indeed?¡± Dickie whines while blowing out air. Dickie drops his gaze at his radar screen¡ª But Dickie freezes. ¡°Say, were there any flights scheduled today?¡± Dickie asks without breaking eye contact with the radar. ¡°Hmm?¡± The colleague reaches for a clipboard that is next to him and proceeds to give it a review. ¡°Hmmm¡­ it doesn¡¯t seem like there is today¡ªbut there is one tomorrow heading for the Velksland system.¡± You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. ¡°Hmm, that¡¯s a problem then.¡± Dickie says with a worrisome look. ¡°¡­Why?¡± The colleague asks with a frown. ¡°¡­There¡¯s a single ship rapidly approaching the Cluster.¡± ¡°Huh? From where?¡± Dickie finally breaks eye contact with the radar and exchanges looks with the colleague. ¡°¡­It¡¯s coming from the Valspon system.¡± The colleague sets up in his chair and turns on the intercom. ¡°This is L¨¹beck mission control to the unknown shuttle! Please come in!¡± The colleague inquiries in an authoritative tone. With each passing second, he gets increasingly anxious. ¡°¡­This is L¨¹beck mission control, do you read me? I urge you to please respond and identify yourself.¡± Dickie looks back at his radar, and the dot¡¯s location on the screen inches closer to the Cluster colonies without breaking speed. The two of them fail to get a response from the bogey; there is only static. The colleague clears his throat. He then leans closer to the intercom and raises his voice, ¡°This is L¨¹beck mission control, please slow down your craft and identify yourself and your navigational route.¡± But it is only fruitless; he is continued to be greeted by static. ¡°What is the commotion over here?!¡± Their superior jog to their side of the room, and grabs the colleague by the shoulder. ¡°You¡¯re scaring the new guys. This better be a good reason.¡± Dicky and his colleague look at their superior before Dicky speaks up ¡°It¡¯s an abnormality, a shuttle or something is coming at a high speed and ignoring our communication efforts.¡± The old manager rubs his chin. ¡°Abnormality, you say¡­¡± He checks with the intercom to make sure for himself. Sure enough, he arrives with the same fruition. ¡°You are sure it is a shuttle and not something like an asteroid?¡± Before Dickie or his coworker can reply, the source of their problems become visible to the naked eye. Murmurs in the control room turn into panic and cries of fear as it gets closer to the mission control satellite. Some brace for impact, while others dive to the ground while uttering prayers. The shuttle rapidly passes the satellite at daunting speed, and before long disappears into the starry abyss. There are collective sighs of relief within the control room. ¡°Holy shit!¡± ¡°We have a rogue shuttle heading for the Cluster!¡± ¡°Contact Side Blanco!¡± ¡°Shit! We won¡¯t be able to scramble any shuttles to divert it!¡± The sighs of relief turned to panic and uproar. Dickie slumps back into his chair in defeat. The manager storms off to another part of the control room. ¡°What the hell is going on? Do we have any reports from the Valspon system?¡± He demands from one of the staff. After a couple of minutes, the one the manager questioned shakes his head. ¡°It¡¯s no good, we are unable to make contact with Side Malabo or the rest of the Cluster.¡± A quiet air of uneasiness fills the room for a brief moment. ¡°Just what the hell is that Che fool doing in Valspon¡­?¡± The manager trails off, but the interruption by an operator snaps him to reality, ¡°The shuttle¡¯s trajectory is shifting towards the capital Side of Brunsb¨¹ttel!¡± Murmurers fill the room once more as the manager orders everyone to hush. ¡°Send a radio transmission to Brunsb¨¹ttel! Quickly!¡± He runs a hand through his hair and mumbles under his breath, ¡°¡­although I¡¯m not sure they can stop it in time.¡± ¡°T-the shuttle is entering the Brunsb¨¹ttel gravitational field and shows no signs of stopping!!!¡± The same operator yells out in panic. ¡°What the hell are the idiots over there doing?! They haven¡¯t even closed the Side¡¯s panel shields?! At this rate¡ª¡± If the Brunsb¨¹ttel authorities don¡¯t close the panels in time it could risk ramming into the Side¡¯s windows and cause a leak¡ªit won¡¯t necessarily destroy the colony, but¡­ ¡°The Brunsb¨¹ttel is sortying shuttles to intercept it, but¡­ but¡­!¡± The radio operator¡¯s commentary is cut off by the manager rushing over to the commentating operator. The old manager slips off the man¡¯s headset and pushes him aside. ¡°What the hell is happening over there?!¡± He yells into the headset¡¯s microphone piece. ¡°Report! Were the interceptors able to divert it away from the Side in time?!¡± There is a moment of silence, and with each passing second, the manager¡¯s patience slips on increasingly thin ice. ¡°Mission control to Side Brunsbuttel, I ask again¡ªwere the interceptors able to force the shuttle to divert course?!¡° The other end is noisy as people shout over one another. It seems their situation was equally as bad, and who could blame them? Finally, there is a response from Brunsb¨¹ttel¡ªbut it is not the one the manager wants to hear. Before the manager even knows it, his already pale skin is further drained of color. ¡°Side Brunsb¨¹ttel to L¨¹beck mission control¡­¡± The manager can feel the headset slipping through his grasp. The crew of the control room crowd around him anxiously. Dickly is among the closest to the manager, who leans as close as he can to the earpiece. ¡°The defense fleet of shuttles has failed to stop the shuttle¡­¡± Dickie, too, feels a lot more drained of energy at the words uttered from the microphone. The ghastly manager works up the strength to ask the followup question everyone in the vicinity dreads to hear. The manager clears his throat with a loud hawking noise. ¡°A-and¡­ the panel shields¡­?¡± The anticipation makes everyone¡¯s stomachs churn as they eagerly await the news¡ªbut everyone knew all too well what happened next rather they wanted to believe it or not. ¡°The panel shields¡­¡± Both the manager and Dickie share tinges of queasiness. ¡°Have failed to close in time¡­¡± The trembling of the manager nearly causes the headset to slip out of his hand. ¡°Resulting in the shuttle ramming through a section of the Side¡­ ¡°This concludes the feed forwarded to us from the commander of the interceptor squadron.¡± The crew of the L¨¹beck satellite all gazes at Side Brunsb¨¹ttel in the distance, as the headset drops to the floor with a metallic clatter. Chapter 21: Memories of Toscana | Greetings and Farewells
IN SIDE BRUNSB¨¹TTEL
AT A HOTEL SOMEWHERE IN A RESIDENTIAL DISTRICT
Simon sacrifices yet another butt to the chopping block that is the ashtray. He¡¯s lost count of how many cartons of tobacco that makes. Five? Ten? It doesn¡¯t matter at this point anymore. His hotel room is now full of thick mist. But there is only the presence of complete silence. There isn¡¯t even the humming of the air conditioning unit that obstructed his inner thoughts since his visit began weeks ago. At some point, Simon stopped caring about its breakdown. The temperature didn¡¯t exactly bother him, and likewise, he can¡¯t be bothered complaining to the staff about it. Speaking of which, they have been eerily avoiding him and Simon is not quite sure why. Sure, he is one of the most feared lieutenants of the Year 217 Mafia, but at the end of the day, he¡¯s as human as anyone else. The first day when he started smoking, though, was likely the last human interaction he had with them. Simon¡¯s memory of the incident is a little fuzzy thanks in no due part to becoming a living fossil with each creeping year.
¡°Sir, you are not allowed to smoke in the lounge, you will set off the fire alarm.¡± A young staff had chided him not long after his first check-in, after seeing the senior Oliver flip a lighter for a cigarette.
Reflecting on it, Simon had to commend the industrious lad for scolding a powerful figure on what he can or can¡¯t do. Simon stares out his window¡ªnot that it matters much, the smog lingering around him makes it hard to make out anything. Thinking back on it, the young hotel staff member most likely did not know better. To Simon¡¯s knowledge, his supposed fearsome reputation does not extend to those of the everyday folk. Or rather, his heyday of publicly is long over. Because if the young man knew who Simon was, the whole incident could have been avoided.
¡°Hmm? Is that addressed to me, young one?¡± Simon politely asks, flipping the lighter shut. ¡°Yes air, our hotel policy is no smoking outside of the designated smoking areas. There are rooms you may smoke located at the end of each floor¡­¡± Simon, who was sitting down in the lounge rose to his feet and dusted himself off. He invokes a forced cough and crosses his arms while scanning the room. All the while, he avoids eye contact with the hotel staff man. ¡°¡ªI take it we are not allowed to smoke in our rooms, either?¡± ¡°Yes sir, that is correct.¡± The young man says attentively, ¡°it is against company policy for customers to smoke anywhere on the premises ¡ªwith the sole exception of designated smoking rooms. Otherwise, the staff and I will be forced to bill you for the smoking fee.¡± He finishes in a calm recital manner.
Thinking back on it, Simon regrets not walking out then and there in immediate search of a new one. If it had come to it, he could¡¯ve just resided at Dong¡¯s palace. But he wished for something a little less grandeur¡ª but at his age, having such an enormous compound to himself makes loneliness a nagging mistress.
Simon shakes his head and tries to contain his laughter. ¡°Young one, do you have any idea who I am?¡± The two of them finally make eye contact. The staff member shows no signs of being intimidated by Simon¡¯s imposing height. ¡°I do not care who you are outside of this hotel¡¯s establishment. As it stands, you are a patron of our beloved hotel first and foremost.¡± Just the fact that the fool had the gall to say something so outrageous would be good enough to make this equally old fool chuckle. If this poor individual had to confront anyone else from the Mafia ¡ª even someone like Li ¡ª Simon is sure this poor soul would be found at the bottom of Brunsb¨¹ttel¡¯s artificial lake with cement boots and the place mysteriously burned down. No, that can¡¯t be right. Certainly he ¡ª or the management ¡ª has butted heads with the Mafia by now. You can¡¯t be part of a hotel chain with good customer reviews and expect the Mafia not to drop by every once in a while as potential guests. Civilians sure are a one of a kind. ¡°With all due respect¡­¡± Simon twirls a cigarette between his fingers, a useless skill he is proud of. The hotel employee raises an eyebrow questionably. Simon paces around the hotel staffer. ¡°¡­In this case, I believe it is important you know I am from an organization that is¡­¡± Simon slides a hand on the man¡¯s shoulders. ¡°¡­No laughing matter.¡± With a free hand, Simon comfortably slips the cigarette into one end of his mouth. ¡°That is¡­¡± Simon doesn¡¯t like to harass civilians. It was never his thing. He believes that a humble pirate should keep their matters between each other, not the innocent commoners. But he wants to smoke a goddamn cigarette in peace. So it¡¯s something that Simon is willing to do out of character, if only for this occasion. ¡°¡­A state official¡­¡± It¡¯s only slight, but the staffer stiffens up for a brief second, ¡°¡­who reports directly to the Don.¡± Although the poor man remained a concrete composure Simon notices his face begins losing some color, ¡°¡­and although the Don is currently away from Side Brunsb¨¹ttel¡­ it would be a shame if I told him of my disaffection I have here at this nice establishment, no?¡± Simon stops pacing around the man, and leans into his ear, and with a deep voice utters ¡°I imagine you have a roof to keep and some mouths to feed¡­¡± And with a final blow of air into the man¡¯s ear, Simon moves away from the staffer towards the receptionist desk, where he picks up his key and heads for the hallway lined with elevators. As he heads into the elevator, a voice calls out from behind him. ¡°A technician will be up to your room and disable the fire alarm¡ªhave a good day sir.¡±
It¡¯s been a rough few weeks. Having to do paperwork related to the everyday activities of a bonafide pirate republic is taking its toll on this old man. Simon never considered himself much of a magistrate despite his golden touch for it. He always preferred pushing it onto the younger Che instead if it was something truly mundane. Mundane. Yes. That is what it was. It¡¯s truly boring work. There is no satisfaction to be found tackling stacks of paper that his underlings occasionally show carting up to his room every so often. It¡¯s like dealing with Federation reinforcements ¡ª except the documents he gets literally grows up trees. If this was a battle he would¡¯ve surrendered at the onset. Simon rummages through one of the last remaining tobacco cartons for any stray cigarettes, but he comes up short ¡ª Coming up with only an exasperated utterance. And speaking of the Federation¡­ It baffles him why Zhui decided to draft Che and not him. It¡¯s no secret Che is a total buffoon at being a marshal. The younger Dong has about as experience leading troops as a babe does leading a herd of sheep. But Zhui¡¯s word is final and Simon has no chance but to abide by it. Who knows, maybe it will help Che grow a little bit more ¡ª not that it will matter since the Federation assault will not be coming through the Valspon system, both Simon and Li are confident in that. And Li¡­ Simon slumps into his chair, tossing the empty carton across the room. The haze is still going strong, due in no thanks to the lack of ventilation. What a bother, Simon thinks as his eyes feel increasingly strained from glossing over petty stacks of documents. It¡¯s all so bothersome¡­
A MONTH EARLIER, AT THE END OF JULY
ONE OF THE SIDE BRUNSB¨¹TTEL¡¯S NAVAL YARDS
¡°Zhui, surely you jest.¡± Simon shrugs. The fleet under Dong Zhui was finishing preparations for a long term stay at the Valspon system. From the brief report given to him by an adjutant Simon received during the flight from his home retreat, Simon became aware of a reconnaissance report on a Federation formation across the Rounen corridor; the biggest contingent of Federation ships not seen since the mid 210s¡¯. Just the approximate numbers gave him chills. Simon had dropped everything he was doing and made way for the naval yard that Zhui was at. Although surprised he was not in any way summoned by the Don or any of his servants, Sim was going to rise to the occasion once more and ward off the Federation threat, heaven or hell. But once he had met with Zhui, the Don had other things in mind. ¡°You¡¯re not given me command? Why?¡± Zhui did not immediately respond. He was busy looking at documents that his servants were presenting him, and thus, Simon¡¯s words were not reaching him. Finally, after some time, Zhui nodded at them and gave them a dismiss. With the two of them left alone, Zhui turned around and headed for his ship. Surprised, Simon jogged to catch up with him. For a man of Zhui¡¯s physique, it is a surprise he is a quick walker. ¡°¡ªZhui.¡± The man stops in his tracks. Simon walks past him without realizing the fact and stops to face him. ¡°¡ªSimon, I apologize for not notifying you sooner about these developments.¡± Zhui replies in a dry manner, ¡°these are troubling times indeed¡­¡± He strokes his beard whilst observing some of the pirate ships that are cruising out of the naval yard. ¡°But now that you are here, I will brief you on your role for the time being.¡± ¡°And that is?¡± ¡°Please do not cut me off, Oliver.¡± ¡°Right, my apologies. Please continue.¡± Zhui resumes walking, but it is slower this time. Simon is quick to accompany him with his pace. ¡°Originally, I did toy with the idea of giving you command of some ships. I did. I truly did.¡± Zhui shakes his head in such a manner that Simon can¡¯t take it seriously, but that is aside from the point. ¡°I agonized on who should lead a formation, and I agonized even more on who shouldn¡¯t. It was a tough choice, it really is! Believe me. Being in my shoes, there is not enough booze for me to relieve the pain of making tough decisions.¡± ¡°Get on with it, will you?¡± Zhui shoots him a glare but brushes the interruption aside. ¡°Having such a big family means some sacrifices will be made¡­ ¡°Between you¡­ and her¡­ and Che¡­¡± With the mention of Li, Simon squints at Zhui as he continues, ¡°I¡¯ve decided that, given the circumstances, you will be given the short end of the stick.¡± Simon stops in his tracks, but Zhui pays it no mind at first. ¡°I¡¯m getting the short end of the stick? What the hell does that mean?¡± Though, in truth, he has a nagging feeling that this means¡­ Zhui notices that Simon is no longer trailing him, and unleashes another forced sigh. He crosses his arms. ¡°I think you¡¯re getting more senile than I am, Simon¡­ what I mean is¡­ you will be staying here, at Brunsb¨¹ttel¡ª and someone has to¡­ for lack of a better wording, uh¡­ hold the fort down. Maintain the front that everything is going swell. Reassure the civilians that everything is alright. That¡¯s the real battle¡ªnever mind the Federation dogs barking up our tree. If the civilians got wind of it¡ªwe will be done in from the inside.¡± Zhui says matter of factly. ¡°And you chose me over Che, why?¡± Simon is trying not to sound agitated over it. ¡°The boy is an administrator, for sure. He has demonstrated that time and again, and I appreciate him for that. But in the event of a Federation-aroused uprising¡­ I don¡¯t think he will stand much of a chance in the way of an open revolt. You are more than capable of martial law than he is, and I¡¯ll be lending you a fair amount of my best men to install order. I trust they will do their job well¡ªthey kind of have to, yes?¡± ¡°And where are you sending Che?¡± Simon asks. ¡°He will be at Valspon. As much as I detest that runt, she makes a valid point of there being very little chances of an assault through there. She said something else also, but I wasn¡¯t paying any attention to her ramblings. You know how much she rambles on about bogus stuff. But that aside, I have to be cautious¡ªthere¡¯s no telling if some daring fool will try to advance there on his initiative. ¡°With that in mind, my beloved boy will have a small force to play around in Valspon ¡ªit¡¯s good practice for him, no? And we will assemble at Velksland until the Federation backs off.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t say I appreciate you being so dismissive of your daughter, let alone calling her an insulting name,¡± Simon replies bitterly. ¡°What do you plan to do with Li, anyway?¡± Zhui procures a bottle of liquid from his jacket. ¡°She¡¯s less of my daughter and more of a¡­ strategic asset. There is a reason I did not bestow the name of Dong on her, you know. But that¡¯s beside the point¡ªyou ask what I planned to do with her, no? Well¡­¡± Zhui takes a long swig from the bottle, for what seemed like an eternal second. After the last gulp, Zhui lets out a cheery cry. ¡°Aah! That hits the spot! ¡­Mmm, the runt¡­ yes, she is going to accompany me in the fleet. I cannot trust her with any other matters while I am away on the front lines. If she did not have such skill in combat, I wanted to place her under strict house arrest¡­ in the wilderness too, perhaps. She is too dangerous, Oliver. Her influence is too much for me to ignore.¡± Zhui¡¯s eyes widened for a second, ¡°I cannot afford to have the runt lead her own. Or rule unchecked from the Brunsb¨¹ttel. It¡¯s too risky to my¡ªour¡ª beloved Mafia. She could sell us out to the Federation without hesitation!¡± Zhui takes deep breaths after another gulp from the bottle. ¡°But enough of that. She will serve as an adviser to me and nothing more. It will be business as usual after this blows over.¡± Simon squints again. Li alone with Zhui can only spell trouble¡ªbloodshed, even, if he is not there to mediate between the two. But Simon has no choice but to respect the choices of the Don. His personal feelings have to be suppressed for the betterment of the Mafia. If it is what his good friend Zhui wishes, then it is as he says. Simon begrudgingly suppresses a sigh and gives a short bow to Zhui. ¡°If that¡¯s what you wish, Zhui, then I have no qualms with it.¡± He repeats his thoughts out loud. ¡°Good, good, that¡¯s all good then. Good. If you excuse me, now, I must head for my ship. I cannot afford to waste any more time.¡± Zhui briskly walks off out of sight. Unable to contain the sigh any longer, Simon unleashes the exhausted exhale for all to hear. Now then, where was Li? Simon scans the proximity of the naval yard but does not make her out anywhere. Which is a given, Li is good at that kind of thing, she tends to blend in quite well with the crowd. After some sight searching, Simon finally does recognize the familiar poncho¡ªthe cloak that was once his many years ago¡ªstanding in front of a shuttle away from the business of the harbor. Next to the cloaked individual was a figure that was statuesque in comparison. Simon takes long, quiet strides toward the two, being careful not to announce his presence. When he gets close enough, Simon plants his burly hands on the petite one¡¯s shoulders. ¡°¡ªHello, Li.¡± Simon utters in a warm voice. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Truth be told, he knows better than to do this. Li doesn¡¯t like it when someone sneaks up on her¡ª and in the past, she had flat-out given a careless character much larger than her a mighty suplex. Simon kind of wishes he had written a will before coming today¡ªif Li did that on him, well¡­ Although the young maiden does emit a split second body twitch, there is no subsequent maneuver that sees Simon slammed in front of Li, much to the relief of Simon. Li and her companion turn around to greet the old Oliver with radiant smiles. ¡°It is so nice to see you join us before departure, Simon.¡± Li says in a soothing voice. ¡°I concur, master Oliver.¡± The towering woman says. Simon responds with a beaming smile and his gaze shifts to the tall woman. ¡°Ol¡­ga¡­ was it? I apologize for being selfish, but can you leave the two of us alone for the time being? I will return her to your care in a few minutes.¡± Olga subverts his expectations and does not budge. She peers into his eyes with soulless eyes and a grin that¡¯s ever so light. ¡°Olga, if you may, could you leave me and Li alone for the time being? I wish to discuss with her in silence.¡± Simon asks the question again, refraining from a tone of annoyance. Once again the towering beauty does not move a muscle. Her empty eyes stare him down, her smile is frozen at a perfect angle. ¡°Olga, if it is not an issue, I wish for you to give us some alone time. ¡ªjust me and Li here. It won¡¯t be long.¡± Simon asks, once again, trying to avoid sounding agitated. ¡°¡­¡± Olga stands there with the resolve of a die-hard guard dog. To Simon, the aura around them gives off a sense of tenseness. The creepiness of Olga certainly does not help, this almost feels like it could go on like a broken loop if Simon doesn¡¯t try a different method. He briefly exchanges eye contact with Li, who breathes a delicate sigh and cranes her neck to Olga. ¡°¡­Olga.¡± Li begins in a warm, soothing voice. As if on cue, the spell is broken, and Olga snaps to attention. ¡°Yes, Madame.¡± ¡°¡­Please stop calling me that.¡± Li mumbles under her breath in slight annoyance. ¡°As you say, Madame.¡± There is a slight twitch of an eyebrow from Li in response. ¡°As Simon suggested, please give the two of us some alone time¡­ I will join you later.¡± Li finishes with a warm tone. Olga nods then moves away before turning back to face us. She gives us a courteous bow and resumes with embarking on Zhui¡¯s ship. ¡°The woman can be a bit troublesome sometimes, can she?¡± Simon says offhandedly once he is sure she is out of earshot. Li responds with silence, but her averted gaze only tells Simon she agrees. ¡°¡­But I suppose that can be a good thing. She has served you well all these years.¡± Li only nods as a response. ¡°She can be there in situations where I can¡¯t¡­¡± Li gives another nod, with an affirmative murmur. ¡°¡ªmuch like the predicament I am in now.¡± Li breaks off her averted eyes and returns Simon¡¯s gaze. Even with the ugly, intimidating scar strewn across her face, she looks distressed. ¡°¡ªYou¡¯re not joining the fleet?¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t know?¡± Simon asks in surprise. ¡°I figured Zhui told you by now.¡± Li only shakes her head. ¡°As shocking as it may be¡­ we did speak¡­ but he made no mention of you¡­ I figured you were going to accompany us in some way or another.¡± Simon frowns, annoyed at the lack of communication between the two, and rubs his temple. ¡°Ah¡­ that does complicate things a bit¡­ No, Zhui has informed me I am to maintain all matters of governance from Brunsb¨¹ttel. It¡¯s frustrating for me too, but the Don¡¯s word is final.¡± ¡°Ksch¡­!¡± Li averts her eyes in anger and clenches her fists. ¡°It doesn¡¯t make any sense¡­!¡± ¡°It¡¯s unfortunate, but I have faith in you. Li¡­¡± Simon takes a step forward and places rough hands on her shoulders, being careful not to grip her too hard. ¡°I may not be by your side, but I have faith in Olga, as peculiar as she is¡­ I have no doubt Olga will protect you¡ªfrom them¡ªand him.¡± Li quivers, subsequently, Simon wraps her in a comforting embrace. With a gentle stroke of her head, Simon manages to calm the young maiden. Her body heaves a sigh that brushes against his clothes. ¡°Everything will work itself out. I have faith you will find a way to achieve victory¡­ Li, have faith in yourself and your comrades, Li.¡° In truth, not even Simon is confident in those words. There¡¯s truly no telling if victory is certain this time¡ªbut for Li¡¯s sake, Simon forces himself to believe it, too. It¡¯s a white lie to both of them. Li slowly raises her head. ¡°¡­You truly believe so?¡± Simon, forgoing hesitation, nods. ¡°I am completely sure of it.¡± It¡¯s a lie. But it¡¯s a necessity. ¡°Now¡­ I think it¡¯s about time you join the fleet, Li.¡± Simon lets go of Li and takes a few steps back. There¡¯s a sign of hurtness in Li¡¯s eyes that makes Simon¡¯s heart ache, and his gaze averts to the ship that Li will depart on, the Castelforte; what was once his he had relinquished over to her some years ago. ¡°¡­¡± Li hesitates to leave, and Simon looks at her again, eyes still full of sorrow. ¡°Li?¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m just¡­ Farewell, Simon.¡± She gives a brief chest salute and turns to leave. ¡°Li.¡± She stops in her tracks but doesn¡¯t turn around. ¡°It¡¯s not ¡®farewell¡¯, because that implies we won¡¯t meet again¡­ try that again.¡± Li turns to face the old Oliver. With a veil of determination, she gives a more serious chest salute. ¡°Goodbye, Simon¡ªuntil we meet again.¡± She says in a soothing voice and turns once more to leave. ¡°Goodbye¡­ Li, come back to me in one piece.¡±
BACK IN THE PRESENT
¡ªKnock knock knock ¡°Aaaaggh¡­¡± ¡ªKnock knock knock ¡°Aggghh¡­.brrrrnghh¡­¡± ¡ªKnock knock knock ¡°Auuughhh¡­¡± ¡ªKNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOC¡ª The gradual pattern of knocks turns into flat-out inconsistent bangs on the door. It¡¯s enough for Simon to raise from the armchair he was previously resting on. ¡°For Pete¡¯s sake!!! Were my threats of burning this place down not enough for you!?!¡± The banging on the door doesn¡¯t cease¡ªthere are some muffled sounds mixed in, but it¡¯s impossible to make them out. The haze of misty fumes still obstructs the now groggy Simon as he coughs and flails arms around. Which way was the door again? Perhaps Simon did smoke too much after all¡­ even in the far future of now, there¡¯s always a surgeon general that sprouts some hogwash like ¡®please avoid the use of excessive smoking as it can lead to¡­ yada yada¡¯. ¡°Wait! Wait¡­ I am making myself to the door. Hold on, damnit!!!¡± Wait¡­ but there are fire alarms out in the hallway? Is there not? Maybe he should clear out the smoke¡­ open the window maybe. That way the sprinklers don¡¯t go off. ¡°Er¡­ hold on a second, I need to open the window!¡± Simon shouts out amid the banging¡ª sooner or later that wooden door will break. Simon shifts directions and tries to heave the door open with all his strength¡ª or what remains of it after all these years, anyway. The window is sealed shut, and Simon fears the chain-smoking might be his undoing. Maybe he should stick to the advice of the pesky surgeon generals after all. The banging stops¡­ and now it sounds like the perpetrator is slamming his weight against the door! ¡°Oh for god¡¯s sake¡­¡± Simon moans burying his head into one hand. ¡°Can you wait for one. Goddamn. Second. Before you¡­!¡± Each slam against the door wears away at the frame. The wood creaks and moans underneath the strain. But then it stops. What follows next is inaudible murmuring from the other side. ¡°Give me one second! One second so I can clear out the smoke! The smoke!¡± He repeats, raising his voice again¡ªbut it falls on deaf ears. But ignoring that for now, Simon turns his attention back to the window and positions his body in a way to utilize all of its strength. And pushes up, to no avail. And again. And again. And again. The results are all the same. ¡°Yikes¡­ they really keep these things secured tight.¡± Simon mumbles as he slumps against the wall. Ah well, if they go off¡­ THUDD-DUD! The door swings open¡ª smacks against the wall, and falls clean off its hinges to the floor with a thump. As a result of the crash, the fumes are cleared, whilst the opening allows some to ventilate outside. ¡°¡­Captain Oliver!¡± ¡°Oliver!¡± ¡°¡ªCap¡¯n!!!¡± Some thugs rush into the room, covering their faces in light of the toxic fumes. Not like it will matter in a bit. ¡®Capt¡¯n! We¡ª¡± Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiisssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss The sound of mechanical sprinklers. Soon enough, the entire room¡ªSimon, the thugs, everything¡ªis doused in water. From the hallway and adjacent rooms, fire alarms join the company of hisses. Neighboring occupants exit their rooms in a combined chorus of confusion. ¡°¡ªNow you guys have gone and done it! Come, let¡¯s exit the building now¡­¡±
A bunch of stooges exit a building, soaking wet from head to toe. And they are a bunch of thugs belonging to the Year 217 Mafia. It¡¯s a sight to behold, no less, might even make headlines later. Simon pinches his nose bridge, maybe a bit too tightly. The doctor once advised him to watch his blood level, but in cases like these, it¡¯s hard not to get his blood boiling. ¡°You know, a millennia ago they invented these things called phones¡ªthey never went out of style either.¡± Simon stresses while trying to quell a headache from forming. The troupe of fools gives one side glances too many at another, speechless. Simon tries to refrain from smacking each buffoon across the useless things they call ¡®heads¡¯. ¡°There better be a goddamn good reason why you had to go and make a scene in front of the entire block.¡± Simon stands over the troupe, who whimpers in unison and grovel, but Simon waves it off. ¡°Oh, knock it off¡ªget back on your feet¡­ that aside, did you lot come by in a car or something? Explain it on the way to the Don¡¯s palace.¡± The group hop into a sleek black car and speed off from the hotel¡¯s premises. ¡°For Pete¡¯s sake¡­ did your excuse for brains accumulate an extra dose of space radiation? Seriously, what were you thinking?¡± Simon rummages through his cloak in search of a spare cigarette carton that might have been spared, but he comes up short. How frustrating. This is all very frustrating. And he¡¯s still soaking wet. ¡°It was an emergency, cap¡¯n¡­ we couldn¡¯t wait around for the staff guys to call you¡ªthey seemed kinda timid when we showed up¡ªwe didn¡¯t even come to bruise them up or anything, either!¡± The stooges do their comical side glances supplemented with grunts of agreement, and Simon rolls his eyes. ¡°Hmm? This isn¡¯t the route to the palace¡­¡± Simon trails off, and one of the idiots speaks up, ¡°t-the e-emergency requires your immediate at-t-tention, we¡¯re heading there now.¡± Simon peers at them. ¡°What kind of emergency are we talking about?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a bit hard to put into words¡­erm¡­¡± One of the idiots does some fumbling with his hands, ¡°we are not too sure about it ourselves¡­ the higher-ups only told us to fetch you immediately.¡± ¡°And I¡¯m sure that¡¯s also meant ruining a hotel¡¯s business¡­¡± Simon slumps into the seat and groans. He¡¯s going to hear some complaints from the hotel company¡¯s shareholders about it later. The next few days are going to be frustrating¡­ He might have to compensate them in some way, and that¡¯s always a headache to do. Ahh, why is it always his underlinings that causes these commotions? ¡°¡­I believe we are at the crash site now, cap¡¯n.¡± With those words, Simon springs back to life. Crash site? Simon doesn¡¯t even have the chance to roll down the window before the car skids to a halt. Alarmed, Simon hurriedly messes with the door controls. ¡°Tch! This stupid door! This stupid car designer! They make shit too complicated for old folk!¡± The door swings open after enough brute force¡ªand Simon leaps out straight onto the gravel road. ¡°Agh!¡± Simon groans, shielding his vision. The sunlight is nearly blinding¡ªbut it doesn¡¯t take long for his eyes to adapt to the new sensitivity change. What in the world? ¡°What¡­ is this?¡± A wide impact trail extends without limitless into the distance. Billowing smoke clouds trail encompass the landscape. Shuttles hover in the air, either projecting searchlights or putting out local fires. The trench crater had cut through as if with ill intent through a civilian district¡ªthere are herds of people shuffling away from the carnage. Simon squints¡ª he can just barely make out hastily set up relief stations on the outskirts of the suburban area. Looking up, a gaping hole where the shuttle had crashed through, already mostly patched up from the inside by repair crews and covered by the exterior. Simon¡¯s gaze falls to the cause of this monstrosity. A single shuttle¡ªor what remains of it¡¯s crushed and burnt remains, burns with such fierceness that squads of firemen struggle to put it out. It must have only occurred just recently in that case. His legs move on their own¡ªa brisk walk¡ªfirst a jog¡ªthen a sprint. It¡¯s been years since he¡¯s been on the run like this. Much of the shuttle wreckage has already been sealed off¡ªthe civilian workforce is quick as always. As he approaches the roadblock, he is stopped by a middle-aged police sergeant. ¡°Halt! There is no trespassing past this¡ª agh!¡± Simon shoves past him but briefly stops to address the downed sergeant. ¡°¡ªMy apologies, officer!¡ªBut good work, keep it up.¡± Moving on, Simon approaches the makeshift medical tents next to the vicinity of the crash site. Personnel hustle between them. ¡°Excuse me¡ªpardon me¡­¡± Simon calls out to those that speed walks past him. ¡°Do you know the location of the one that was in the shuttle?¡± He asks one young woman in particular. She stares at him as though he was an alien, and quietly points to the largest one that has various medical devices lining its exterior. Simon thanks her shortly before he enters the tent. A line of beds with numerous patients with varying degrees of injuries. Troops of nurses and doctors are tending to them. Singling out the one that looks like the chief doctor, he taps him on the shoulder. ¡°Yes? What is it? Er¡­ are you even authorized to be in he¡ª¡± ¡°That¡¯s not important right now. Doctor, do you know the patient that was on the shuttle?¡± ¡°Hmm¡­¡± The feeble doctor scans the room for a few minutes. He points to the bed at the far end of the end. ¡°Thank you, doctor, I will make sure you are rewarded for your endeavors later.¡± Simon leaves the doctor hanging and makes way for the man responsible for all of this mess. ¡°You there¡­ can you hear me?¡± Simon kneels beside the man¡¯s bed, next to a bulky pile of burnt astronaut gear. The man is partially mummified, and there is an assortment of medical instruments poked into him. ¡°Excuse me, sir¡­¡± A nurse approaches Simon, clearly concerned for the wellbeing of the patient. ¡°¡­We currently do not allow guests¡ª¡± ¡°Quiet! This is important business!¡± Simon exclaims with an outstretched arm. ¡°Er¡­ please excuse the behavior. But this is urgent.¡± The startled nurse backs off amid the room¡¯s eyes. ¡°Hah¡­Hah¡­..Sim¡­on?¡± The mummy struggles to pronounce each word. ¡°Captain¡­¡± ¡°Yes¡ªyes, it is me¡­ don¡¯t strain yourself too hard. My apologies if I disturbed you after all¡­¡± ¡°No¡­no! Captain, it is¡­ argkk!!¡± The man sits up too quickly and coughs a splatter of blood. ¡°Ah¡­ young man!¡­¡± The nurse lets out a startled cry and tries to rush past Simon to assist, but Simon pushes himself up to face her. ¡°Please stay back! You can treat them after I am done conversing with him. And young man¡ª please relax.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry sir¡­ I¡¯m just¡­ finally excited¡­ to finally get the chance¡­to meet the legendary Oliver himself¡­But, if I¡¯m telling the truth¡­¡± He flashes a bloody grin, ¡°I wish it was the beautiful Madame instead comforting me¡­ m-maybe with some nice¡­soup¡­haaa¡­¡± Although the mental image of a beautiful Li in classical maid wear flashes across Simon¡¯s mind, he suppresses the thought for the time being. Now is not the time for that; Simon eggs him for more answers. ¡°What brought this about? Why did you crash through the Brunsb¨¹ttel?¡± For one reason or another, Simon has a nagging feeling he knows why. Normally, he could write this off as a drunkard missing the harbor by a long shot¡ªthe local superior of this man could be held responsible, and Sim could go about his day as normal. But there is something about this that makes him concerned, why else would his presence be needed? ¡°Hnngg, my apologies¡­ about the forced landing, I was too unconscious to ¡ªA¡­ message¡­¡± The man¡¯s raspy voice gets weaker. Simon leans in closer to the mummy. ¡°Message? From whom?¡± This wasn¡¯t making any sense. If someone wanted to send a long-distance message¡­ ¡°From¡­ hngg!¡­ Annnnnnnnnnnnngghh! ¡­¡± Simon instinctively raises his arm to block the panicking nurse from doing her business. The man¡¯s torso heaves up and down in rapid pants. ¡°From¡­ Che.¡± Simon¡¯s ear is nearly pressed to the man¡¯s mouth. ¡°¡ªChe? Did you say, Che? But Che is at Valspon¡­¡± A part of Simon doesn¡¯t want to connect the dots. If Che has to send a shuttle of all things to Side Brunsb¨¹ttel¡­ ¡°Fe¡­.¡± ¡°What?¡± ¡°¡­Deder¡­¡± Simon impatiently grabs the patient by the collar. ¡°For Pete¡¯s sake! What are you saying, lad?!¡± Gasps from across the room, but Simon ignores them. ¡°¡ªFed¡­¡± A splutter of blood. Simon wipes it away without a second thought. ¡°¡ªEr¡­¡± The machine monitoring his heart rate enters a series of rapid beeps. ¡°¡ªation¡­¡­. ¡°¡ªassault¡­¡± Federation assault. A Federation assault into Valspon? Is fate a cruel mistress? Is this what it means to rack up bad karma and dump it on him all at once? Did he and Li make a fatal error? Did fate twist around Dong¡¯s words of an ambitious commander? ¡°¡ªFederation assault? Oi, young man¡­¡± The annoying machine enters a long, continuous ear-shattering beep. Simon sends crashing to it to the floor with a blunt smack. ¡°Don¡¯t you fucking die on me kid! You said Federation assault?!¡± The shaking brings no reaction from the mummified man¡ª his pupils now diluted. He feels hands grabbing him from behind. ¡°That¡¯s enough now sir! I ask that you please leave! Come! Make way¡­¡± Simon has a sudden urge to clock the one trying to restrain him, but he begrudgingly lets the medical staff do their work. One brings along a defibrillator device and attempts to revive the mummified man. CHUNK! Then, the process of CPR follows suit. There isn¡¯t much for Simon to do here now. He has to make his move. Simon gives the man one last glance as he departs the tent.
Simon joins off with the idiots, who have been frolicking around the sleek car in the time being. When one of them spots Simon approaching, they smack each other in poor taste and give Simon chest salutes. Simon returns the salute and slides into the passenger seat. ¡°Did y..y-ya finish your b-b-business, boss?¡± The stuttering one asks, moving aside hair that was covering one of his sunken eyes. Simon nods, and for several minutes remains silent. A Federation assault from an unexpected area. Truth be told, Simon was a fool after all. Both he and Li were too naive¡­ But there is no use agonizing over it now. What¡¯s done is done. The Federation has launched an invasion through the rear of the Mafia and it is only a matter of time before the regime crumbles. This is a fact that he cannot change. Unless¡­ Unless Li can come to the rescue somehow. Rescue? Rescue¡­ that would entitle Dong having to permit her control of a fleet¡ªand the young man didn¡¯t specify the strength of the fleet. But¡­ it is telling that Che had to send a shuttle to get the information through, which means it is big enough to cause Che trouble¡ªon top of him not being a capable commander¡­ Simon searches inside his pockets for a dry cigarette carton to no avail. It¡¯s frustrating. This is completely frustrating. It singlehandedly feels like the stress is aging him at a pace he never thought was even feasible. It doesn¡¯t help the stooges gaze at him unflinchingly. He really should invest in better retinue. ¡°¡­The communications center.¡± ¡°Eh?¡± ¡°Take me to the communications center.¡± ¡°Right away boss!¡± If Simon is to relay a message to the Don, he has to word it carefully on suggesting who should go¡ªbut that matter is, ultimately, up to Zhui. It might just be better to leave the point omitted entirely¡ªthinking on it some more, Simon believes that no matter what, Li will likely rise to the case with or without her estranged father¡¯s support. In the end, Zhui won¡¯t have a choice¡­ Li is as beautiful as she is a skillful tactician. The car drives up to the gated entrance of the compound, and after some inspection with the guard lets Simon¡¯s vehicle through. The chauffeur pulls up into the circular driveway, and Simon¡¯s door is graciously opened by a valet. ¡°Ah, there is no need to park the car. My men here will take it from here.¡± Simon says to the valet, then he addresses his stooges ¡°take the car back to my residence. I will call you if I need anything.¡± Simon sees them off. All that is left now is to send a relay to the Velksland system. Regardless of who receives it, the fate of the Mafia more or less rests on her shoulders. Chapter 22: Memories of Toscana | The Everlasting Resentful Dream
CIRCA 215-216 UC
SOMEWHERE IN THE LESSER RUTHENIA REGION
¡°¡ªIt¡¯s a Federation battleship!¡± The bridge is fright with excitement and terror. The skirmish against the Federation force has¡­ to my surprise, been going in our favor. It¡¯s a light force, so it¡¯s to be expected. But the sudden news of a battleship is something else. A single one of those is enough to cause panic among the ranks. It¡¯s no secret these men are a bunch of spineless cowards, ready to drop what they¡¯re doing at the first signs of trouble. As Simon would say; when push comes to shove, father is keen on capitalizing on this panic and running for the hills. ¡®Take what you can and rig the rest for a nasty surprise!¡¯ is something that father says. There¡¯s no honor in that. It¡¯s pathetic. What enjoyment is there in fighting an enemy, only to retreat when we have the high ground? Time and again, the moment a new fleet warps into the fray, the order is given to break off the engagement and flee. Would it not be better to stand our ground and take advantage of the situation? Would it not be in the best interest to make us seem like a scourge of the Federation? To make the Federation think twice about sending men to their certain demise? The times are changing. Maybe a bit too fast. Our influence over the stars shrinks as a result¡­ because of spineless captains not willing to take risks. With greater risks comes greater reward, and we forfeit much of it for a fleeting moment of comfort. Comfort in the fact that we have evaded the enemy once¡ªand for what? Is this the way to go about it? Should we not fight for the brethren that fell? ¡°Captain Li! Please give the order to evacuate the system.¡± The adjutant assigned to me by father asks in a demanding manner. The monitor projecting the ongoing battle clearly shows the odds are in our favor¡­ and yet we have to withdrawal? It¡¯s a single battleship. A Federation battleship. Clearly whoever sent it is underestimating us. They don¡¯t view us as a threat. Even those ships from the Ruthenian colonies are scarier. They actually pose a threat. They don¡¯t shy away from scrambling their entire strength at the first sign of a few scrawny wolves sniffing for scraps. ¡°I do not believe that will be necessary.¡± ¡°¡­What did you say, captain?¡± He asks, surprised. ¡°Given the circumstances, I believe we will stand our stand here. We will maintain the firefight and confront the battleship.¡± ¡°This is no laughing matter, Li, if that battleship reaches the battle, it will be all over¡ª¡± ¡°I do not find a single thing about this funny. Rather, I would laugh it off at you even consider the thought of retreating.¡± For a split second, it seems like the adjutant is grinding his teeth, ¡°But regardless, do you honestly believe that for yourself? It¡¯s one ship. It¡¯s not invincible.¡± The adjutant is certainly fuming, ¡°I don¡¯t deny that this is a great amount of risk. But we have a numerical advantage¡ªwhat do you believe the commander of that battleship hopes to accomplish with his presence?¡± I extend an arm to the projected map. With each update tick, the battleship blip closes the distance to the frontlines. It is only a matter of time before it can unleash a salvo. ¡°If we retreat, we only confirm their doctrine. ¡®Bring even one big gun, and the pirates will flee¡¯. We aren¡¯t dealing with the overbearing Ruthenians¡­ rather¡­ what were they called?¡± I cock my head trying to rack my brain over what the Federation military called itself, Simon told me once, and yet¡­ ¡°Metro¡ªMetropol Space Force. Mm. We¡¯re dealing with an enemy that doesn¡¯t care much for the outer colonial systems. This is proof of that.¡± I stand closer to the map projector and tap the blip. It¡¯s near enough now that some men are barking orders about evasive maneuvers into receivers. ¡°If this were the Ruthenian force, they would mobilize everything they had in this part of the system. Luckily for us, it seems even the Central Ruthenian governments don¡¯t care about the Southerners.¡± ¡°But even so¡­!¡± The adjutant averts his eyes and grits teeth. His fists are clenched. I can¡¯t help but crack a smile. ¡°If you think about it this way, if we can avert their expectations and succeed at taking down the battleship, there is no doubt the Federation will take us more seriously¡ª¡± ¡°With all due respect, Li, I still have authority over the Castelforte. An authority that overrides you. Even if it is a gift to you by captain Simon, and even if you are the daughter of Zhui, I do not wish to squander the lives of my men for your fortune.¡± ¡°Ah¡­¡± ¡­For my fortune, huh? ¡°Is that how you view this, as me trying to make a name for myself? Aren¡¯t you tired of running all the time? Don¡¯t you want to turn the tide¡­ To make a stand, and revenge those who fell?! If we continue to run¡­ there won¡¯t be anywhere else to go! Do you want to live the rest of your life as a coward?!¡± ¡°Captain Li! Your orders, please! The Federation dogs are grouping around the battleship!¡± It was the words of a communications operator that cut us off. Quickly scanning my cone of vision, it seems like most have their eyes trained on us. ¡°Use your head, Li! This is no time for fantasies. We aren¡¯t living in a world where you can live with no repercussions.¡± The adjutant grips me tightly by the shoulders. His tone becomes as harsh as his piercing eyes. ¡°The adult world is no place for children to carelessly throw away the lives of others! A brutal reality where kids like you are cut down without remorse. Don¡¯t think you have the respect of me or the men just because you are Simon¡¯s shadow.¡± A careless child¡­? A position of leadership without respect¡­? Would the men even listen to me by now, if I ordered them to fight a battle that we could lose? If the Federation force broke off and regrouped, then there is a chance we could lose, no? It could spell total annihilation if the Federation commanders execute good maneuvers. And look at us, literally at each other¡¯s throats. Maybe the Federation is right after all. Maybe we aren¡¯t a threat. If the crew sees a split leadership, then it means they have to choose sides. That¡¯s fundamentally a splintered bunch. Teamwork collapses, cooperation gives way to every man for himself. Is it all fruitless¡­? If all of this is caused by a meager battleship, then what would it mean to face an even bigger foe¡ªto face the onslaught of a colonial force? Is this the life I want to live¡­? A life on the run, where the only outcome is¡­ No. I don¡¯t want that. I push the adjutant away. ¡°¡ªWe have to try If we can get close enough, the Federation will be unable to efficiently fire salvos, yes? I believe everyone here knows that the Federation does use the same arsenal as their colonial underlings¡­¡± ¡°Huh¡­?!¡± ¡°¡ªCut off their escape, and they¡¯re essentially¡­ what is that saying? Sitting birds¡­ducks? They would kill everyone with their missiles, us and them.¡± The adjutant says nothing. He stares at me with a gaping mouth, is he having a difficult time processing what I said? ¡°¡ªAnd what do you hope to accomplish doing this?¡± He finally says after a moment of silence. ¡°We assault the battleship¡­ and after that concludes, pray that the remnants of the fleet surrender. The less actual damage we do to the Federation ships, the better. It means additional ships for our arsenal.¡± Ships with long-range missiles will be beneficial for us. And even if we deplete their ammo, we can always retrofit it to fit one of ours. Things like that can take time, though. Time is always against us, but at least there are always crowds of wicked individuals willing to join our cause. ¡°¡­Very well, Li. I put my faith that you can pull it off.¡± There is still a cast of doubt on the adjutant¡¯s face as he utters those words. ¡°That is what I like to hear, now then¡­¡± If the men under me resent or care for my actions matters not. ¡°All hands¡ª ¡°Prepare for combat!¡± What matters is fighting against the changing times!
¡°Report from Duran!¡± A communication operator reads off a slip of paper, ¡°¡¯We have secured the Federation rear after advancing through the missile salvo. Minimal losses. We have managed to keep a good distance to prevent them from continuing bombardment and breaking out. The distance permits us to fire without suffering from an exploding radius. We await further orders on how to proceed.¡¯ This concludes Duran¡¯s report.¡± ¡°Excellent¡± I rest my head on clasped hands, ¡°Tell Duran to keep his current formation.¡± ¡°Right awa¡ª huh?¡± Both the communication officer and the nearby adjutant crane their heads. ¡°We¡ªWe aren¡¯t¡­ going to finish them off?¡± Huh? ¡°I''m not sure I understand how you¡¯re confused? I already mentioned we are going to assault the battleship. The battleship is the icon of their relief force. Take out the symbol of relief, and the Federation¡¯s morale will plummet. If they do something stupid and try to breakthrough¡­ then that is that. On the other hand, we take them all prisoner¡­ and we get the ships. And what use is destroyed ships?¡± ¡°How do you plan to go about and assault it? You don¡¯t mean to¡­?¡± I can¡¯t help but heave a sigh. How can these idiots accept what I say earlier but only now question it? But¡­ announcing it this way feels a bit embarrassing. ¡°I¡ªI will lead boarding parties and take it by force.¡± The two of them give me only surprised glares. They don¡¯t even need to say it¡ªit¡¯s ridiculous. Who knows how many soldiers are stationed on that thing? It¡¯s no small merchant marine. There¡¯s not going to be a handful of men on it. ¡°Captain Li¡ªwith all due respect¡ª!¡± ¡°I¡¯m¡ªI¡¯m aware it is a dangerous undertaking. There¡¯s¡­¡± ¡°Hundreds, if not a thousand are aboard that battleship.¡± The adjutant cuts me off with an agitated tone. ¡°I don¡¯t think I can stand by and let you do this¡­ never mind the fact I let slide prolonging this pointless battle.¡± Pointless? ¡°Open communications with the Federation battleship and give them an ultimatum for surrender.¡± The adjutant walks past me and gives the order. ¡°Right away sir!¡± What about this is a pointless battle¡­? ¡°Un¡ªunidentified ships from our rear!!¡± A shout from another subordinate. Huh¡­?! ¡°A new Federation force¡­?!¡± I utter with a gasp. The radio operator scrambles to demand the identity of this new fleet that has entered the fray. Seconds pass. Minutes. The whole bridge is filled with a tense silence. Finally, the operator heaves a sigh and collapses in his chair. Another operator has to check his screen and turns to face the rest of us. ¡°It¡¯s Dong Zhui¡¯s fleet !¡± I didn¡¯t realize I was holding my breath in this whole time, and breath in the fresh air. Talk about a sense of disbelief. But maybe my adjutant is right after all. Maybe it is a better idea to conclude this battle with the surrender ultimatum and disperse while we still can? A Ruthenian or another Federation task could arrive at any given second¡­ But will the battleship accept an ultimatum in the first place¡­? ¡°Has the battleship commander responded to the ultimatum?¡± ¡°Yes sir! Let¡¯s see here¡­ hm? It¡¯s a fairly short message¡­¡± The communications operator peers closer to the decoded message he received, but he only looks confused. ¡°Well? What does it say?¡± My adjutant asks, and he snatches the paper from the operator. But it only takes a second for him to come to the same confusion; confusion. ¡°¡­I¡¯m not sure what this implies.¡± He hands it over to me. The message is a lot shorter than I imagined. In fact, it¡¯s only one word. But it¡¯s not the kind of word I would come to expect. Nuts ! ¡­Nuts? What is that supposed to mean? ¡°Could it be some slang for ¡®no¡¯? Those Metropol guys are odd... I believe you should transmit another message to ask for clarification.¡± I ask the communication operator, and he nods. But again, it is the same message as before. Not so much in the way of what ¡®nuts¡¯ entails, either. The battleship commander is either idiotic or simply acting brave for the sake of his men. But is he willing to die in the face of overwhelming odds? Is their unity that strong that they would forsake walking away to live another day¡ªeven if it meant as a prisoner¡ªrather than face certain death? ¡°Zhui¡¯s ship requests a communication channel!¡± ¡°Very well. Open it on a secure channel.¡±¡ªNot that it matters much given our jamming efforts. I wonder what he will think of my decision to assault the battleship? A sense of worry washes over me. It¡¯s not long before a video display of father comes on the screen. He looks rather impatient¡ªagitated even. But maybe that¡¯s just because of his deformed face. My eyes dart all over the place. The very thought of having to stare at the hideousness is enough for me to lose appetite several times over. It¡¯s a shock factor I can just never get over. But with the growing waves of fellow pirates and civilians flocking to this monster¡¯s banner, it¡¯s no wonder how effective the intimidation is. But what use is intimidation if we do not capitalize on it more¡­? What use if we are taken more seriously by government officials¡­? ¡°There better be a good, wonderful reason why you have not annihilated the Federation lapdogs yet.¡± I straightened my back and sigh. ¡°I¡ªI wish to storm the battleship, seize it, and force the rest of the fleet to surrender.¡± Father peers closer at me and looks at the adjutant next to me. ¡°Hmmm, I believe my hearing has gone bad since I cannot fathom what was uttered by my wonderful daughter¡¯s lips. I happen to take it you heard her loud and clear, Sergi?¡± As if mimicking me, Sergi¡ªmy adjutant¡ªstraightens up attentively. He gives me an eyeful out the corner of his eye¡ªif only for a fraction of a second¡ªas he addresses father. ¡°Sir¡ªsir, er¡­ captain Li has expressed interest in boarding the battleship and taking it by force, it may look to be our only option because¡ª¡± ¡º BA¡ªHA¡ªHA¡ªHA! ¡» Eh?! The roar of laughter from father catches me off guard¡ªindeed, the bridge collectively shivers. ¡°Oh, oh! I¡¯m sorry, please! Please. Continue. Continue ! I implore you to. That was awfully rude of me to interrupt, no?¡± ¡°R¡ªright, er¡­¡± Sergi loudly clears his throat and hesitantly speaks, ¡°the Federation battleship has twice refused our demand to surrender. At your daughter¡¯s suggestion, she has suggested¡ªsuggested¡­ boarding it, to force them to¡­ comply.¡± There is a moment of silence after Sergi concludes. Father stares at the bridge with a blank expression¡ªbut then he flashes an eerily smile. ¡°And, oh! Where do you intend on finding the manpower for such an endeavor, sweet daughter of mine?~¡± Breaking free of my spell, I answer with meager confidence. ¡°I will gather volunteers myself. If I may, I would like to also send the guards you have given me.¡± The eerily smile snaps to a frown, and father leans into his monitor¡ªand parts of me wishes he didn¡¯t. I can¡¯t bear to get a snapshot of his rotting flesh. ¡°You intend to lead my best men into a suicidal assault? And all because a commander shrugged off a surrender offer? Do you take me for a fool?¡± Of course not, but¡­ ¡°I believe¡­ if we can capture the¡­ capture the battleship intact, we can use it to bolster our strength. Not only will we capture it, but the rest of the fleet without a fight as well. I value the lives of your men just as much as you do, father, with their help I can take on a thousand soldiers!¡± Father lets out an impatient sigh and buries his head in his palm. ¡°Oh to hell with it! Do not fail me, Li¡­ I entrust my men with your very life. If any number of them fall in battle¡­¡± Father doesn¡¯t finish the sentence. He gestures for someone to cut the transmission, and the last thing is a dubious glare. ¡°Well, the easy part is over. Now let¡¯s assemble boarding parties. In the meantime position the Castelforte close enough to launch assault shuttles from.¡± ¡°Right away, captain Li!¡±
All in all, I¡¯ve been told we could scrap together some six hundred men. If we include the personal retinue that father bestowed upon me, that¡¯s an additional sixty men. Although there was originally a fraction of that, Simon persuaded I am given more, and father reluctantly complied. Simon¡­ if you were here, would you agree with my plan? There wouldn¡¯t be any other reason if you didn¡¯t predict me to come up with a plan like this, would it? ¡°Captain Li! Report from the bridge; ¡®The Castelforte and other mother ships have gathered at the vantage point and await the order to release their crafts¡¯ This concludes the report.¡± ¡°Good, thank you, Sergi, what of Duran and the rear?¡± ¡°No reports from Duran. It is safe to believe the Federation has not attempted a breakout yet.¡± ¡°Naturally, they have no means of doing so besides ramming through. At that range, missile impacts would only result in mutual destruction.¡± ¡°Captain Li¡­¡± ¡°Yes, what is it, Sergi?¡± The shuttle airlock shuts behind us with a sealing hiss. The shuttle has a gentle rock as our transport is loaded into launchers. All around us, troops double-check equipment. ¡°¡­Are you having second thoughts about this, Li?¡± Second thoughts? ¡°Well¡­ I am naturally nervous. I¡¯m sure everyone is. This is my first time, after all.¡± ¡°¡­Captain, please do not word it that way, with a maiden such as yourself, it sounds¡­¡± ¡°¡­How do you mean, Sergi?¡± If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Sergi blinks at the inquiry and clears his throat. ¡°Ahem ! If you have no further doubts, then I suppose it is time to launch the assault, yes?¡± ¡°Indeed. I suppose it would not hurt to soften up the battleship with some of the smaller armaments¡­¡± ¡°Soften up?¡± Although the armored visor obscures his expression, it¡¯s safe to say he¡¯s confused. ¡°Just enough to cause some casualties. But not enough to obliterate the ship. I believe some of our ships were equipped with¡­ what were they¡­¡± ¡°¡ªminiguns?¡± ¡°Yes! Those should be enough to shred them at least a little bit. It might be dangerous though. If we¡¯re not careful it could rip through most of the shred and decimate their engines or something.¡± And that would be an uneventful explosion to be caught in. ¡°I see¡­ captain, should I give the order?¡± ¡°If you could so please.¡± Sergi relays the order, and after some time has passed, he signals to me the task is complete. ¡°Now then¡­ give the order for the shuttles to launch¡ªall hands! Brace for impact!¡±
A faint roar of engines. Rapid acceleration. ¡°Gh¡­!¡± Even though I¡¯m holding on to a handrail, the resulting g-force feels as the very bones of my body will be ripped through the armored suit. ¡°G¡­.hhh!¡± There are collective grunts in the cramped passenger compartment. I feel extra weight on my shoulder¡ªand turning to see Sergi is trying to reassure me. He mouths some words, but it¡¯s impossible to make them out. But if I have to guess, it¡¯s something along the lines of ¡®are you alright?¡¯, and impulsively I give a nod. Then suddenly¡ª The shuttle shakes violently. Everyone in the shuttle lurches forward. Did we penetrate the battleship?! From the very front, I can make out someone bark, ¡°Go! Go!¡± Nobody stops. The lurch forward caused by the ramming continues into a full-fledge rush into the interior the shuttle opened up to. Some have already fallen. Some weren¡¯t able to remain in sync and were trampled to death by their brethren. As tragic as it is, there are more pressing matters at hand. The deafening small arms fire on top of howls of death drowns out any possibility of thinking straight. Every hallway we enter is strewn with corpses or dying¡ªfriend and foe alike. Every group we encounter¡ªmercilessly cut down without a second thought. Their small-caliber handguns ricochet off our suit¡¯s plating. If they¡¯re lucky, there might be a marine with a submachine gun or rifle, but they are rare. The terrified looks in our foe¡¯s eyes as they are slashed apart without a way to fend for themselves is oddly satisfying. Satisfying?¡­ The image of that man¡­ that man from years ago¡ªthe one who killed momma. Papa. My older brother. ¡°Kar¡­woski¡­¡± With each Federation soldier downed, the blood-curdling screams of that devil conform into one¡ªthat of Karwoski¡¯s. The imagery of Karwoski imposes itself on each victim. Their face twists and morphs into his dreaded features. It doesn¡¯t matter anymore. I feel like I¡¯m on autopilot. My movements and slashing motions no longer feel like my own. A spell, much like then¡ªwhen that man¡ªZhui¡ªprovoked me into killing Karwoski... A sense of possession, as if I am being manipulated¡ªcontrolled by an otherworldly force. It all feels like a dream¡­ an experience so surreal like none other. Is this¡­ what it means to lose your humanity? To be lost in bloodlust? To be consumed by hatred? Is this¡­ the culmination of my desires after all these years? Was Karwoski¡¯s death itself not enough to satiate my anger? A form of cope¡­ anger at my younger self for being unable to prevent it? To kill Karwoski over again. And over. And over. And over. And over And over, and over¡­ But does it make a difference? The man is dead. He has been dead for the better part of a decade. I killed him with my own two hands. He bled out and choked to death on a wound I caused. So then¡­ why¡­? ¡°CAPTAIN LI!!!¡± The screams of Sergi brings me back to reality. PANG A bullet ricochets off my visor. PANG Another bullet ricochets¡ªthe force causes a large crack in the visor this time. ¡°Ug¡­h!¡± The shock causes me to crash into the adjacent wall. Dozens of my men rush by, ignoring me as they keep the momentum. Everything feels so hazy. I hear something muffled¡ªfollowed by a presence next to me. The figure flicks off the hinges of my helmet and tosses it aside. After my eyes adjust to the room¡¯s lighting, I realize the figure is Sergi¡­ And he looks so worried. My vision is completely hazy¡ªnot to mention a tingly feeling throughout my body, as if numb. I feel Sergi giving me a quick inspection before giving me gentle slaps on the cheek. He¡¯s mouthing something, but it¡¯s impossible to make out what he¡¯s saying. Sergi looks increasingly distressed, or so I think. He grits his teeth and utters one last thing before he rushes to join the others. Does Sergi intend for me to stay here¡­? ¡°N¡­.ghh!¡± I rise to my feet and prop myself against the wall for support. It doesn¡¯t seem like I was hurt anywhere, thankfully. But just to be safe, I brush a hand against my face¡ªno signs of injuries. But¡­ I could¡¯ve died. I should¡¯ve died. I reach down to slip on the helmet. Then, limping over to the slain soldier, I notice a small handgun next to him. ¡°Hmmpph¡­!¡± Leaning over in a pained grunt, I snatch it up for inspection. ¡°Heh¡­ ¡°Hahahahahhahahah¡­¡± To think this little thing could have ended my life right then and there. Devices like these can deliver a killing blow to another human being in a matter of seconds. In eons past, humanity had evolved to a point where even a single bomb can wipe out a major city, and indeed¡­ the people of Terra had done such that, or so Simon says. Simon¡­ What would Simon¡¯s reaction be if I had died here on this battleship? Would he be devastated? Distraught? Relieved that he no longer has to look after a young woman? Anger at father? Would my death cause a rift between the two men; a rift that could see our fleet splinter? If I saw Simon in the afterlife, would he demand I prostrate myself repeatedly? ¡°Haah¡­¡± Holstering the gun, I pass through the battled corridors. With each hallway I pass, the amount of corpses is limitless. The sounds of gunfire seem so distant now¡­ but the cries for loved ones are all around. Some are sprawled out on the floor, others writhing about; many more slumped against the walls clutching their wounds in vain. But the sight of one particular individual catches my eye. A rather lanky one. If I wasn¡¯t so careful shuffling along, I would have tripped over his legs. But the man pays no notice. Huh? He¡¯s one of ours. The blood splatters made it hard at first to distinguish him from others. His right arm looks completely drenched in blood¡ªbut the soldier makes no effort to stop the bleeding. ¡°You¡ªyou there,¡± I utter. Through the partially shattered visor, soulless, beady black eyes shift their gaze to me. With his other arm, he reaches for a soldier¡¯s pistol in an attempt to brandish it. ¡°It¡¯s¡ªit¡¯s¡ªit¡¯s okay, I¡¯m a¡­ friendly.¡± I raise my arms to signal I¡¯m unarmed. The soldier continues to point it at me, but lowers it¡ªand it promptly clatters to the floor. ¡°That injury¡­you need to¡­ ng..h,¡± I slump to his side. Looking around, I lean over to a nearby Federation soldier and rip fabric from his uniform as a makeshift bandage. ¡°Hold¡­still..!¡± The soldier squirms and stifles cries as I attempt to stabilize the wound. It¡¯s a sloppy job, but¡­ ¡°Just¡­ let me¡­ die.¡± The man whispers. His empty pupils squints at me in pain¡ªpleading for me to spare saving him. ¡°You know¡­ I can¡¯t do that¡­ I need you alive¡­ I need all my men alive¡­Keeping everyone alive is my responsibility. If I¡­ just¡­ willingly¡­ let you die¡ªcould I say¡­ could I say I have any humanity left?¡± For a moment, it seemed as if a spark of life rejuvenated in those eyes of his. ¡°What¡¯s¡ªwhat¡¯s your name?¡± I ask, patting the bandaged shoulder. He lets out a small grunt but averts his eyes. He mutters something, but it¡¯s impossible to make it out. ¡°Come again?¡± ¡°Or¡­.¡± ¡°Or?¡± ¡°Or¡ªca.¡± ¡°Orca¡­? That sounds like a nickname if anything¡­ what¡¯s your real name?¡± Orca winces. His eyes dart around before we finally make eye contact. ¡°Do you mind if I take this off? It¡¯s¡­ hard to make out what you¡¯re saying.¡± Undoing the restraints, I slowly slide off his helmet¡ª ¡°¡­!¡± ¡°¡­¡± A woman?! To make sure the cracked visor isn¡¯t deceiving me, I yank off my mask and toss it aside. Orca looks at me with wide eyes. Sure enough, Orca is a woman. With such pale skin, bobcat-like hair, and feminine facial features¡ªthere¡¯s no mistaking it. ¡°Orca¡­¡± I began. ¡°Olga¡­ ¡°You can call me¡­. Olga.¡± Her voice trembles. ¡°Olga¡­ it¡¯s a beautiful name.¡± I reply with a weak smile. Olga¡¯s dull eyes shine once more, and she even begins to tear up. ¡°Can you stand? We should get moving. There¡¯s no telling if any Federation soldiers are still roaming around.¡± I wipe away Olga¡¯s tears and offer her a hand. Wincing, she steadies herself and stands up¡ªand it only dawned on me just how tall Olga is! ¡°Hah¡­ so much for the idea of shouldering you around¡­ are you sure you can walk¡­ Olga?¡± Olga nods. ¡°Then¡­ let us get going.¡±
It feels like hours have passed. I wonder how our assault parties are doing? Did we succeed? Did we fail? Are we alone in a mammoth ship, surrounded by overwhelming enemy forces? Truth be told, I don¡¯t know how to fire a gun. Olga is too injured to even consider a reliable defense, so who knows what will happen to us. I¡¯m not even sure which way I am going any more in this labyrinth. Federation troops could pop out any angle¡ª ¡°Hold it right there!¡± A voice from behind us¡ªOlga and I freeze in place. It came from the other end of the hallway. There¡¯s no way I can brandish the pistol in time¡ª ¡°Turn around! Slowly, with your hands up!¡± We do as we are told. It is a single Federation soldier with a rifle. The intent in his eyes is that of determination. ¡°You there! The blonde. Raise your right arm!¡± I failed to notice Olga¡¯s injured arm is still at her side. ¡°Do as I say, or I will shoot!¡± It¡¯s impossible to tell Olga¡¯s expression since I¡¯m behind her¡­ ¡°She can¡¯t raise her arm above her head, it was shot to pieces¡ª¡± ¡°I do not care! You will raise your arm or I will shoot!¡± The soldier shouts, keenly intent on brandishing his weapon. Olga extends her arms to the side. ¡°Then shoot! If you wish to kill an unarmed, injured combatant!¡± ¡°Olga¡­!¡± But just as the soldier is about to squeeze the trigger, a continuous alarm goes off. ¡°Attention¡ªAttention¡­ ¡°All personnel¡­ the acting lieutenant commander has issued all personnel to stand down and surrender.¡± ¡°What the¡­!¡± The soldier aims at us again, and Olga and I brace for our fate. But just then, a rumble of footsteps forces the soldiers to panicky turnaround, and after an exchange of words with his new opponents opens fire. A second later, the foolish man crumbles to the floor, dead. Olga and I collectively sigh and collapse to the wall next to us. ¡°Captain! Orca! It¡¯s good to see you two well¡ªhm?¡± ¡°Please¡­ get Olga a stretcher if you can! She needs immediate medical attention.¡± ¡°Right away, captain! Oh¡­ before I forget, your presence is requested at the bridge.¡± I ¡°The bridge?¡± ¡°Yes, captain! Simon and Zhui boarded some time ago and made their way there already. You know the way, yes?¡± He asks, and I shake my head in compliance. He hands me a map outlining the interior of the ship. ¡°Now, then. We¡¯ll be off to retrieve a stretcher for Orca here.¡± With nothing more to say the honcho departs from view. Olga and I are left alone among the dead. ¡°I suppose it can¡¯t be helped¡­ I will see you later¡­ Olga.¡± I stand up and proceed to leave. But the faint voice of Olga stops me in my tracks. ¡°I¡­ never got your name, cap¡¯n.¡± I see. I suppose there are still those in the fleet that aren¡¯t aware of who I am. That¡¯s a given, no? I don¡¯t expect a lowly grunt to know the names or faces of everyone above him. If memory serves me right, I don¡¯t believe I¡¯ve ever seen a lanky woman like Olga in the fleet before. She must be fairly new then, I take it? ¡°Li¡­ Li Chou.¡± ¡°Li¡­ I will remember it. Thank you, cap¡¯n Li.¡± ¡°Please¡­ just call me Li. ¡°¡­Take care, Olga.¡± And with that, I make leave.
Compared to the rest of the battleship, the bridge room is devoid of corpses. Perhaps it was tidied up before the arrival of father and Simon? There are hardly any Federation soldiers left here. Along the way here I witnessed herds of prisoners being escorted to the shuttle areas. The only ones left here are a few important looking staff officers and who I believe is the acting lieutenant commander of the battleship. If he¡¯s ¡®acting¡¯, then I suppose that means the previous commander must have perished in the struggle sometime before. There are a few squads of father¡¯s retinue standing at attention before the man in question. He seems¡­ disturbed. But when his gazes shift to me, it vanishes with a wide grin. ¡°Oh! If it isn¡¯t the star of the show¡ªmy beautiful and everloving daughter!¡± He roars with each approach, arms outstretched. ¡°It is good to see you t¡ªNGHH!¡± Father gives me a shattering bear hug¡ªand I hear what I fear are a few pops. ¡°Did my sweet little princess enjoy her sunshine adventure?¡± ¡°¡ªGhhhhhh!¡± The questionable sounds of more pops. ¡°That¡¯s enough, Zhui!¡± Father releases grip, and I collapse to the floor in a confused daze. The gasps of air leave my chest heaving at a rapid pace. ¡°Tch¡­ for the daughter bearing the Dong name, she¡¯s pathetic.¡± Pathetic? ¡°¡­I wish you wouldn¡¯t say that about your daughter, Zhui.¡± It was that same voice again. There¡¯s only one person who would dare address father like that¡ªSimon? The shuffles of father¡¯s footsteps grow distant. I feel too light headed to make out anything¡ªreality shifts in and out of focus. ¡°Daughter? Hmph¡­ for someone under the Dong name, she sure is a worthless daughter. She can¡¯t even keep a promise¡ªa simple promise!¡ªa promise! How hard is that to do?!¡± The flutter of arms as father continues¡ª¡±I said to keep losses to a minimum! MIN¡ªI¡ªMUM! WHAT PART OF THIS IS MINIMUM! Count for me, Simon, if you may! Please! I beg you. What part of this is minimum?¡± There is silence from Simon. ¡°Oh, oh! I forgot, my deepest apologies! There were originally sixty, were there not, Simon? Were there not originally sixty of my best men assigned to her? At your discretion? Sixty. Hm? IS THIS SIXTY FUCKING MEN, SIMON? Oh! Pardon me¡ªpardon the language!¡ªgo ahead, Simon¡ªwith that refresher, go ahead! Count for me. A head-count of each and every one. Count your chickens! Or your eggs¡ªor would the corpses be the eggs, hm? Do you want to count the corpses and the chickens, Simon? Should I get my beautiful daughter to count the ones she sent to their deaths without question?!¡± ¡°Thirty¡­¡± Simon mutters. I can¡¯t see it, but I feel his gaze pierce through me. ¡°Hmm?¡± The shuffle of feet again. ¡°I¡¯m oh so sorry, Simon! Did you say something? Repeat that again, for the whole class! You said¡­?¡± ¡°Thirty-two, there are thirty-two men here accounted for¡­ but, Zhui¡­¡± ¡°Thirty-two, wow! Thirty-two! I wonder where the other thirty-something went, eh? Do you think they just gave up and ran, Simon? You know, funny thing¡­ ¡°When I merrily came here, do you know what I saw, Simon? What did I see on my merry way to the bridge, Simon, please, take a guess for me. An educated guess!¡± Gathering what strength I have, I sit up straight to witness father standing behind Simon¡ªfrustration, a bite of the lip¡ªclear across his face. I could even make out blood. Simon¡­ ¡°¡ªAll missing members belonging to the retinue, in some way or another.¡± ¡°¡­Tell me, Simon, those were some of our best men. The best! Through heaven and hell and all the way back. I believe some of them¡ª¡± Father turns to face his guards ¡°were even with us when we were little babes¡ªno older than my beloved daughter. Tell me, Simon¡­ ¡°¡ªDo you think they regret their actions? Do you think they died believing they accomplished much? Did they kneel over thinking the capture of this battleship was worth the tradeoff?¡± ¡°Zhui, that is enough.¡± ¡°¡ªSimon, do you think the men resent her for killing Karwoski?¡± Tgh¡­! Just the utterance of the name is enough for me to¡ª ¡°Do you think if Karwoski was still alive¡­ any of this would happen? Would we be in this same exact predicament we are now?¡± A heavy feeling resonates from my chest, the same feeling from before¡­ as if someone is gripping my very heart. ¡°If you ask me¡­ Simon¡­¡± Father¡¯s hulking back faces me. I can¡¯t stop this frenzy sensation¡ªit feels like a stronger agitation than before. Gradually, I rise to my feet. Simon hasn¡¯t caught on yet¡ªand neither have the guards. ¡°I think you should have left little babe Li for dead, eh? It was a mistake to let her live¡ªand let Karwoski die. I made a bad judgment call¡ªyou think so too, right, Simon?¡± This was enough. I couldn¡¯t bear to hear any more out of my father¡¯s mouth¡ªno, this monster¡¯s mouth. A rapid unsheathe of my bloodied axe¡­ A step forward. The exploding instinct I haven¡¯t felt in years¡ªnot since that moment I killed that terrified man. Nothing like the experience cutting down Federation soldiers. The untold amount of Karwoski''s¡¯ I cut down, time and again cannot compare to this very moment. A moment that feels like an eternity. Each step an interval that lasts for seconds¡ªminutes¡ªhours. The slow-motion reactions of the others. The guards fail to register what is happening before it is too late. Fathe¡ªthe monster, turns to me with a started look¡ªbut no fear¡ªand twists into anger. Not fear. Anger. As he unsheathes his weapon. Our wide eyes lock onto each other. The ugly monstrosity of the one I considered a father twists and morphs into an ogre. A demon. A distorted face that resembles Karwoski. But it¡¯s not fear. Anger. ¡°AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!¡± ¡°LI, WHAT ARE YOU¡ª¡± The sight of cold steel obscures my vision¡ªand then red. Red. That dark shade I¡¯m all too familiar with. The same color as the pool of liquid that momma lied in, all those years ago. I¡¯m¡­ sorry¡­ momma¡­ I¡¯m¡­ sorry¡­ Simon¡­ ¡­ Chapter 23: Memories of Toscana | The Madames Gambit ¡­! My eyes shoot open, and the recognizable pale white ceiling greets me¡ªmuch different from the glass ceiling of the battleship I previously found myself in. The room is poorly illuminated, unlike that of the Federation vessel. Slowly raising to straighten my posture, I give the room a slow scan, this certainly isn¡¯t a medical bay either. identical like my cabin on the Castelforte. ¡°¡­¡± That experience¡­ was it a dream? I sit up straight and give myself a quick pat over. The rough fabric of the cloak that once belonged to Simon, and my comfortable old clothes. If I were injured, they would¡¯ve certainly stripped me down into a medical gown¡­ and no armor plating in sight. No traces of blood splatters anywhere, no signs of bruises¡ªnothing. It¡¯s almost like it never happened¡ªor my caretakers were careful to keep things tidy. My hand makes its way up my neck¡ªthe familiar cold touch of gold jewelry given to me as gifts by some of my men. I remember receiving those after that fateful day¡ªso then, that must mean¡­ Cautiously, I brush a hand against my face¡­ ¡°Kgh¡­!¡± The texture of a mature scar issue resonates with a hurtful sting¡ªif only a little. A few careful knocks at the door. A tall, slender figure with golden bobcat hair enters the main cabin room. ¡°Madame? Is everything alright?¡± She asks. Olga. Leave it to her to check on me out of even the slightest concern. I¡¯m thankful for it, but I wish she would stop calling me by that dreadful pseudonym. She hasn¡¯t even addressed me by my proper name in years. ¡°¡ªMy apologies, Olga, did I cause you to worry?¡± Where was she anyway, to hear me let out a small wince? Olga doesn¡¯t shy away from guarding my door¡ªsomething I never understood why. It¡¯s not like anyone would ever try and assassinate me. No one would be idiotic enough for that. ¡°With you, Madame, even the smallest amount of worry causes me no trouble. But that aside¡­ I have been informed you are summoned to the Don¡¯s ship.¡± She says with that warm smile of hers. ¡°The Don, hm¡­ it¡¯s most unusual for my presence to be requested. I wonder if the Federation has made their move already?¡± No, wait, if that were the case, there¡¯d be more urgency in Olga¡¯s words, and she seems particularly calm. Indeed, Olga shakes her head. ¡°I was not given the specifics, but supposedly, it is a pressing matter from L¨¹beck.¡± ¡°L¨¹beck? You said L¨¹beck?¡± I ask for clarification, and Olga nods. ¡°That¡¯s even more concerning. I wonder if Simon is facing unrest or some sort. Even so¡­ it would make sense for Simon to send notice to Che instead¡ªthat way father doesn¡¯t become stressed from two sides. ¡°But regardless, let us make haste for father¡¯s ship.¡± ¡°Aye, Madame.¡± ¡°¡ªAnd stop calling me that already, will you?¡± ¡°¡­My apologies, Madame.¡±
A rather quiet ride aboard the shuttle. Notwithstanding the shuttle operators, there is only Olga accompanying me. She takes a seat across from me, enjoying a moment of rest. Is she dozing off, I wonder? I never took Olga for being physically active or taking on bureaucratic tasks; she must have nothing better to do than monitor the hallway my room resides in. For as long as I¡¯ve known Olga¡­ the common thugs always murmur rather¡­ envious things behind her back, but they generally retract those statements when I make my presence known. From what I¡¯ve surmised, Olga generally pays them no heed¡ªnor does she get angry with them. It almost seems like¡­ she accepts them in a way. I don¡¯t appreciate the way the men speak of her, but Olga brushes it off like they are nothing¡ªand that always causes a sense of worry for me. She¡¯s always been like that¡ªso say the ones who knew her in the time before Olga and I became acquainted. I always wondered if she does it for my sake¡ªOlga wouldn¡¯t wish to cause trouble by sending a few knuckleheads to the medical ward. But¡­ a part of me wishes she would be more open about her feelings about the way she is treated. ? ¡° Mm¡­h¡­¡± Olga stirs in her sleep. Her head sways gently to the sides. Oh, my. She must be more than tired; perhaps exhausted. The poor thing. ¡°No¡­ not there, Madame ¡­¡± For some reason, I can¡¯t resist an eye twitch. Even in slumber, Olga clings to that dreaded¡­ name. That¡¯s right. The alias that I earned after that resentful dream. I always hear of papers calling me that throughout the years and it leaves more to be desired¡ª I have trouble reading Metropolitan linguistics, so Simon has read reports to me on occasion. The Federation soldiers I spare refer to me as the ¡®Madame Scarface¡¯ that ¡®ruthlessly leaves no quarters upon surrender of allied ships.¡¯ The insolent fools know not of the fact that life as a prisoner of war only ends in death. That the Don relishes in a spectator blood sport involving them¡ªthe captives¡ªand large canines who are deliberately starved before being unleashed on their human victims. It¡¯s a nasty practice¡ªone I detest but powerless to lift a finger to stop. The only thing I can do is spare them that gruesome fate by taking no prisoners. Just thinking about the whole ordeal makes me grip my leggings. ¡°Please¡­ Madame¡­ let me¡­¡± Olga¡¯s sleepish whispers bring me back into the moment. Putting aside the questionable circumstances of Olga¡¯s dreams, seeing her relaxed like this brings me comfort. Notwithstanding the fact, she says that name so carelessly. She must do it with the intent of annoyance, but¡­ well, I can¡¯t exactly bring myself to hate her for it. Olga means a lot to me after all¡­ perhaps that is why she is the subject of scorn? The shuttle stops. On both sides, hydraulic clamps latch onto our craft and begin pulling us upwards¡ªoutside the windows, I watch as the endless ocean of stars gives way to the utilitarian interior of the mother ship¡¯s hangar bay. ¡°Olga¡­ wake up, we¡¯ve entered the hanger now.¡± Leaning over, I give Olga a gentle shake on one knee, and her reaction is rather sluggish. ¡°Hm?¡­¡± Olga stands up to stretch. But given her height is an amusing sight as she struggles to avoid smacking arms against the ceiling. ¡°My apologies, I did not intend to fall asleep. I hope my shameful exposure was not too unsightly, Madame.¡± ¡°You looked at ease¡ªand that felt like a reassurance to me, so think nothing of it,¡± Olga fidgets and obstructs her embarrassment with an arm stretch ¡°but the continued use of that ridiculous alias is more bothersome.¡± Before Olga can deliver her signature response, the shuttle doors behind her open with a reverberating hum. Several men stand before us bearing chest salutes. The one leading them steps forward, a tough man with unruly dark hair and claw marks across his upper face; Sergi. ¡°It¡¯s nice of you two to join us at last.¡± Sergi remarks with piercing eyes. ¡°Likewise, Sergi. I appreciate the warm welcome.¡± I reply as energetically as I can¡ªbut Sergi only raises a brow, ¡°my, is that the Madame¡¯s attempt at sarcasm?¡± Sarcasm? ¡°Humor aside, we need you in the bridge as soon as possible.¡± ¡°What is this urgent matter that I am badly needed in person?¡± I ask as we stroll impatiently through the hanger. ¡°Is it so fundamental that you could not address me firsthand through a secured channel?¡± Secured or not, there¡¯s always a possibility of the Federation intercepting our communications if the situation is that bad in L¨¹beck. They might capitalize on the situation in some capacity or another¡ªwhatever it may be in the first place. Neither Sergi nor his company responds. We enter through a doorway that leads into more corridors and stairs. As we pass by crew members, they give me the typical chest salutes before going on their business. Sergi gives them shifty eyes as if waiting for a good opportunity for something. It didn¡¯t dawn on me until now, but he may be merely waiting for a chance to explain things to me. Whatever the problem is, it must be too risky to expose to the crew and risk getting intercepted by Federation code breakers. We take a flight of stairs upward to the next level. Here it seems there are few people on this deck, so Sergi clears his throat. ¡°¡ªI was going to wait until you found out for yourself once we reached the bridge, but I¡¯ll ruin the surprise for you.¡± Sergi begins, there¡¯s an air of tension as Sergi and his men shift their eyes for signs of personnel as we make our way down the industrious corridor. ¡°Out with it, Sergi. I¡¯m starting to understand that these are not words meant for the lowly rabble, but this is starting to feel slightly unnecessary. What is unfolding in Side Brunsb¨¹ttel that you must be so secretive of? Is Simon experiencing some sort of dissent from the populace there?¡± Sergi makes eyes with his men as he clears his throat again. ¡°Very well, Madame¡­ the news from Simon in Brunsb¨¹ttel¡­ ¡°It has nothing to do with the capital ¡ª per se. It has nothing to do with L¨¹beck at all. No, the message from Simon¡­ ¡°¡ª is actually a forwarded message from Side Malabo ¡ª from Che himself.¡± I stop dead in my tracks; Olga nearly bumps into me. With those words, I experience goosebumps all over and tightly grip the side of my leggings. From behind, I feel Olga¡¯s exhaling brush the back of my hair. Sergi must have picked up on the footsteps ceasing because he turns part way. The expression facing me tells me ¡®no, Madame, this is no laughing matter¡¯. Yet, a part of me doesn¡¯t want to conclude the possibility I didn¡¯t think is feasibly possible. A gnawing feeling that I know where this conversation is going. I don¡¯t want to doubt my subordinate. But there¡¯s no telling Sergi could be playing an unusually cruel joke on me¡ªthe kind of humor that under normal circumstances could have him face trouble if I so desire it. ¡°¡­Sergi, just so I have some clarification¡­¡± ¡°Yes, Madame?¡± I need to confirm it. ¡°¡ªYou are not¡­ erm¡­ what is the saying? You are not¡­¡± My voice trails off, and Olga leans into my side and whispers, ¡°¡ª pulling your leg, Madame.¡± Yes, that¡¯s the saying; thank you, Olga. ¡°¡ªYou are not¡­ ¡®pulling my leg¡¯ ¡ª or anything like that. Are you, Sergi?¡± I ask with the warmness of my heart. Sergi only stares at me. In situations like these, he would throw back his head and let loose a chuckle, and exclaim something like ¡®you¡¯re an odd one, Madame¡¯ and offer a weak smile. But Sergi does no such thing. He only stares unflinchingly, unlike his men who averts eyes. I don¡¯t need a verbal confirmation at this point. The look in his eyes is the only reply I need. This is indeed no laughing matter¡ªand without question no leg-pulling involved. ¡°¡­Very well, Sergi¡ªplease continue, if you may.¡± Sergi straightens himself. The corridor¡¯s temperature suddenly feels as though it has abruptly dropped, and despite the warmth of my poncho I begin shivering, if only slightly. ¡°A lone messenger crash-landed into side Brunsb¨¹ttel¡­¡± Crash-landed? ¡°¡ªand told Simon of an impending threat that caught Che and his fleet completely off-guard. That threat is a Federation invasion from Bordeaux.¡± ¡°¡­?!¡± The shock makes me and Olga recoil from the impact of those words. Federation forces¡­ in the Frankish realm? It would be an understatement to say that my perception of reality is shattered like a relentless wrecking ball. But that can¡¯t be possible¡­ we¡¯re facing down an enormous Federation fleet as-is¡ªthe largest fleet in being I¡¯ve ever seen yet. This isn¡¯t like their expeditions we¡¯ve come to face in the past, they completely pale in comparison. From the satellite imagery we gathered, their fleet is inexplicably Metropol¡ªthere is an extremely low chance of its composition being Ruthenian or even those from the Merican regions. Just the fact that the Federation showed up on our doorstep with such a large host challenges my theory of loss of strength gradient¡ªsuch a force of power so far away from their capital region would no doubt mean their military capabilities elsewhere suffers greatly. By focusing their whole force here, they increase the chance of harassment from pirates in regions elsewhere and less chance of maintaining civilian stability in others. Through this concept that Simon and I conceived together, we believed it was the sole reason why the Year 217 Mafia came to fruition and managed to strive, at least until now. This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. So then, what is this other fleet composed of? It is nigh impossible it could be a Metropol fleet¡ªno less a Frankish one. That would only confirm the notion that the Federation is letting other pirate factions run amok. From the snippets of news we receive, those Franks are largely obedient, and so far no standing navies that they operate on their own¡­ Did the Federation, under these circumstances, allow the Frankish people to raise fleets of their own? If so, are they cooperating with the Federation fleet staring us down across the Rouen corridor, or are they acting on their own? No¡­ if this Bordeaux-based force is cooperating with their Rouen counterparts, surely the Federation would begin an assault phrase by now. This could mean they don¡¯t have a timetable to synchronize a two-way assault¡­ or perhaps they intend to wait for Valspon and L¨¹beck to fall and initiate an encirclement behind us? Madame? There is a chance the Valspon assault force is acting on its own, and that gives us a window of opportunity to¡­ Madame? Are you alright? It could take a few days at most to send a communication relay to the Rouen corridor, lest they attempt to send an encrypted message through Toscana itself. It¡¯s risky, but it cuts time in half¡­ ¡°Madame¡­?¡± The hoarse voice of Sergi, followed by a cough. ¡°Madame? I apologize for the bombshell, I did not intend to throw you into a panic.¡± Panic? I must have looked stricken at the least. ¡°Think nothing of it, Sergi¡ªI was merely recollecting my thoughts. Now then, who else have you told about this?¡± ? ¡°For fear of causing mass panic, as you may know, I have not informed anyone but¡ª¡± The roars of a monster accompanied by what sounds like the smash of wood a few floors above us cut Sergi off. ¡°¡ªI have not informed anyone, including the Don yet.¡±
When we arrive in the command center, I can only watch in disdain as our crew runs around like pathetic cowards. It seems that the presence of father alone is not enough to stop this fever pandemic. The man in question stands behind a crushed desk¡ªnow reduced to nothing more than a pile of scrap. If I had to guess, father must have gotten frustrated with his subordinates and took his anger out on it to grab their attention¡ªbut it only partially worked. Father¡¯s face is a dark hue of red¡ªhis ogre flabs of rotten flesh has an even darker shade of purple than usual. His chest heaves and beads of sweat roll down both sides of his face. Beneath the veil of sweat, his eyes twitch and flicker around the room¡ªshortly before his eyes fall on me. ¡°Ah! Oh! If it isn¡¯t my beloved and most treasured daughter!¡± Father bellows and stomps over his desk towards me. As if on cue, the pandemic dies down almost virtually after¡ªcries of relief and chants of my name follow suit. Father slams a hand down on one of my shoulders¡ªbehind me, Olga stiffens and digs her nails into crossed arms. ¡°I am most delighted, oh I could cry!¡± Father exaggeratedly kisses his fingers. ¡°Our beloved maiden disguised as a knight in shining armor has finally made her breathtaking debut on the stage!¡± He cries out enthusiastically¡ªbut his trained pupils and twitching brow tell me a different story. Father¡¯s arm wraps around me, and his physique obstructs me from seeing Olga¡ªwho is no doubt exercising a titans amount of self-control right about now. ¡°Oh, my sweet Li¡ªthe wonderful¡­ what is it that the men call you? Hm?¡± He gazes around but nobody answers¡ªthe chants have long died down to silence. ¡°Hmm¡­ oh! Yes, that¡¯s what it was¡ª¡± He brings me closer to him¡ª¡±my well-intentioned Madame Scarface.¡± His breath completely reeks of booze, I try to refrain from visibly gagging¡ªfor the sake of the men. ¡° I¡¯m sure you are certainly well-aware by now, but¡­ allow me to give you a little refresher!¡± He releases his grip on me and walks towards another table that activates a pale blue holographic projection. It is taken up by imagery of polygonal blips representing our adversary across the Rouen corridor. ¡°Say, my dear beloved Madame Scarface, what was that complicated concept you spoke of¡­ of something about military projection and¡­ something about gradience. Give me a little lesson for me! For them! I implore you.¡± This passive-aggressiveness is giving me a migraine¡ªnever mind the fact about the Federation assault underway in Valspon. We don¡¯t have time for this nonsense or a lecture about a concept that the Federation shattered in the blink of an eye. ¡°I do not believe there is any need for that, father. I¡¯m about as surprised as you are about the Federation incursion into our rear¡ªand the ramifications of a two-front battle if Che fails to hold his ground.¡± The words cause a few worried murmurs among our onlookers. From the corner of my eye, I notice some are stricken at the confirmation that this is reality. Father clasps his hands together, ¡°Ah! Now you went and done it! You had to go and drop the bombshell on our poor men, again! Though, the first is on me. Very well, then¡­ my wonderful Li, how do you intend for our beloved pirate republic to claw its way out of this wonderful change of events? I have a rather simple plan¡­ ¡°I will withdrawal as discreetly¡ªlike a mouse, if you will!¡ªwith some of our best men¡ªnot all of them! No no no, not at all,¡± father wags a finger at me, clicking his tongue in rhythm ¡°no my wonderful Li, I will only take a token amount¡ªthe cream of the top¡ªand leave you with the rest here. You will stand watch and stare down the Federation lapdogs.¡± ¡°With all due respect, father¡­ ¡° I can¡¯t afford to hesitate, not now. ¡°I have a better plan¡ªone that will guarantee us victory.¡± Father raises a brow and combs the crowd with his gaze. ¡°Oh? A better plan than yours truly? Go on, I am truly all ears . Let me hear firsthand what the famed Madame Scarface has up her sleeve!¡± I¡¯m not sure I can¡ªor want to¡ªgo through with this after all. It¡¯s beyond risky¡ªI will be putting myself in jeopardy. Not only myself but the men too¡ªand Simon and the rest of the Year 217 Mafia. But there is no other way to go about it. There is objectively no way that father can shoulder the responsibility by himself. It would be foolish to believe that this man has the martial capability to withdrawal amid the eyes of the Federation and reach Valspon in time to turn the tide. It would only end in disaster on my mend, and father would be forced into two battles at once anyway. Father is incapable of actually fighting¡ªfor all the time that I¡¯ve known her, all he¡¯s ever been good at is running from reality. Our shrinking influence across this part of the Orion Arm can all be contributed to father alone¡ªand the buffoons that enable his cowardliness. For all I know, he just wants to turn tail and leave me to perish. For him, it¡¯s one less thorn to worry about. The flotilla under Che is small but formidable¡ªand if he¡¯s having trouble, an elite force will stand no chance given numerical superiority¡ªall it will lead to is an unnecessary loss of lives and material. If father and his elite force die in battle without achieving much, the rest of the republic will crumble no doubt. ¡°Rather than a small elite force, I propose scrambling most of our fleet to the Valspon system instead.¡± Walking over to the holographic display I select a large portion of the fleet and swipe most of it towards the direction of the L¨¹beck hyper-lane. There are some gasps of realization and murmurs from the crowd¡ªand if I have to guess, father must be fuming red. ¡°Not only that but to accomplish this feat, what we need is to deceive the Federation force across the corridor into believing our entire force is present¡ªand I will accomplish that by deploying decoy ship balloons¡­ and stripping down transponders to attach to them. This way we can keep up the facade for a little while. Since I believe we do not have decoy balloons, we will have to supplement them with shuttle crafts and attach any remainder transponders onto those. ¡°I also want to note that a meteor shower is set to occur in this star-zone¡ªthat can help to mask my departure, and even disrupt radio signals, at least for a while. Nonetheless, the layers of deception will be able to fool the Federation for several hours at most.¡± Taking a deep breath, I turn away from the holographic display to face the awed crowd¡ªand father, who remains expressionless. ¡°This method is the only possible way for me to neutralize the threat in Valspon without worrying about my rear¡ªand return in time before the Federation realizes what is going on and launch an assault of their own. ¡°On top of it all, I have an accumulation of experience fighting Federation forces¡ªunlike you¡ªand can reliably produce results of eliminating them without so much of a dent in our own losses.¡± Though, to be frank, I can expect to suffer considerable losses¡ªbut it all depends on how the battle is unfolding by the time I force march to Valspon. That part is too variable to make any grounded guesses in. It¡¯s a gamble¡ªa necessary gamble. When it is clear I have finished, my father claps with thunderous applause. ¡°My! My! Bravo! As expected of the tactful Madame Scarface¡ªmy very own not-so-flesh-and-blood daughter! Truly, your resolve has blown me away. Honestly! I am astonished. It¡¯s like your rebellious phase bloomed one too many years late. My beloved regime would not be here if it were not for your and Simon¡¯s fruits of labor. Truly, I owe a lot to you, Li.¡± Even though it sounded so forced, hearing those words mean a lot to me. Father claps a few more times. ¡°Well then! If nobody objects, then I suppose it is time we empty out this room to kick the plan into full gear, no? OUT! The lot of you.¡± Like a current, the men leave us three¡ªOlga, me, and father¡ªalone. Nobody speaks, but I can feel Olga stare down father as she tugs at the back of my poncho, as if to say something about this isn¡¯t right, I¡¯m not leaving you alone with him. Leave it to no one but Olga to sense hostility from another person. ¡°I believe I asked EVERYONE to leave the room, miss Kaiser, ¡± father sniffs at the air, ¡°that includes YOU.¡± ¡°Olga¡­ I¡¯ll be okay, please do as he says.¡± ¡°Do as who says? I believe I did not hear anyone speak but you, Madame.¡± Olga says in a sharp tone. That¡¯s sure to ruffle some feathers, but father doesn¡¯t react in any way. His eyes are trained on me alone. I suppose I have no choice but to conform to my father¡¯s wishes¡­ I¡¯m sorry, Simon. ¡°Olga¡ªif you may¡­¡± Please stay with me. Please. ¡°¡­Leave the two of us alone.¡± It takes a bit of effort to get the words out. Olga¡¯s soulless, black eyes give a harsh squint at father¡ªnonetheless, she yields and storms out of the room. ¡°Li¡­. Li, Li, Li, Li, Li¡­¡± Father circles around me. ¡°I¡¯ll give you one thing. Your plan¡­ it¡¯s brilliant, there¡¯s no doubt about it. I truly, truly expect no less from you¡­¡± He stops in front of me. His unsightly, over-sized tumor that encompasses half his face and neck never fails to make my stomach churn. I¡¯ve seen it countless times before and will continue to see it for times to come. There¡¯s no doubt ¡°However¡­¡± In the blink of an eye, he grabs me by the mantle¡ª ¡°LI CHOU! IF YOU SO MUCH AS BETRAY ME ¡ª OR ATTEMPT TO STAGE A COUP IN L¨¹BECK¡­ MARK MY WORDS, YOU CAN BE SURE THAT YOU WILL NEVER LIVE TO SEE THE NEXT DAY. PRAY THE NEXT TIME WE MEET, IT IS NOT IN HELL.¡° Sensing that he has softened his grip, I push the panting Zhui away. ¡°¡­I am not so spineless that I would depose you through cowardly means. I have no hidden agenda along the way to Valspon; you can relax well knowing that much. If you worry I am letting the Federation lapdog strike you down at your weakest; fear not, since that is reserved for me alone¡ªjust not under these circumstances. We are suffering in this together, father. I have no intention of splitting ourselves into a civil war when enemies are at the gates. ¡°Now, if you excuse me¡ªI must take my leave to oversee the illusion¡­ to let the Federation see what they want to see. Farewell.¡± Father sees me off with a simple hmph.
The next time I see Olga, she can barely contain her resentment. ¡°I take it everything went well, Madame?¡± She asks impatiently ¡°just give me the word¡ªand I¡¯ll make sure to silence him for good.¡± ¡°Yes, Olga, everything is fine¡ªand keep your voice down. I don¡¯t want anyone to get misconceptions. How is the process with the decoys going?¡± ¡°Very smoothly, Madame. We are still working to retrofit all our transponders onto them and any spare shuttles we can scrape together.¡± ¡°Excellent¡­ but one thing.¡± ¡°Yes, Madame?¡± ¡°¡­I believe we should strip all of them except the Castelforte. This serves two purposes¡ªone is to maintain the face here, of course¡­¡± Olga rubs her chin. ¡°What is the second one, Madame?¡­¡± I can¡¯t help but crack a smile. ¡°It will theoretically conceal our total number strength when we warp into Valspon¡ªdepending on how the Federation deploys after Che¡¯s force falls, we may even catch them off-guard as they embark to the L¨¹beck star-zone.¡± ¡°¡­An intriguing idea, Madame!¡± ¡°Let us hope it is one, Olga. Let us hope so.¡± Chapter 24: Memories of Toscana | A Fatherly Love With preparations complete, the fleet under Li Chou begins it¡¯s first of many warp jumps to L¨¹beck. They leave behind them a token force of authentic pirate ships under Dong¡ªbut also a large array of balloon decoy ships, that, to the naked eye, is bona fide enough that even it¡¯s conceiver could believe it if she was a Federation officer twiddling her thumbs across the Rouen corridor. To let the Federation see what they want to see. Bah. I¡¯ll strike you down myself¡ªthat right is reserved for me. Bah. A sustained chug from the green-tinted bottle, then a hard chuck across the room. Upon impact, it smashes into thousands of shattered pieces. Zhui should know better than to believe her lies. But regardless of the truth in Li¡¯s words, Zhui is in no position to risk having her imprisoned. Li is utterly confident of her plan¡ªand so are the men. If his men were all for it he has no choice to approve it¡ªit¡¯s all for their sake. They can¡¯t afford to lose a small fleet, no matter how small it may be. The men Zhui sent to Che were seasoned veterans, but Che¡­ Zhui groans. Che is a bit of a dimwit when it comes to naval warfare. Perhaps he should have sent his good friend Simon to keep watch in Valspon instead¡­ Hindsight is a wonderful, delightful thing. See, in the then you think you have anything sorted out. Then lo and behold! The future rears it¡¯s ugly head and turns out the choices you made were painfully awful¡ªand boy does it come to fruition. Getting how close Simon is to Li¡­ that could spell disaster in Side Brunsb¨¹ttel. If, by chance, just a minuscule chance Li has second thoughts and decides to initiate acoup¡¯d''etat against Zhui¡­ The elder Dong grits his teeth at an uneasy rate. Simon has sworn undying loyalty to him, the Don. The two of them have known each other for decades¡ªsince their youthful days as confused lasses finding their footing in an ever-changing galaxy. If Zhui told him to drop off a bridge¡ªSimon would unquestionably¡ª maybe a bit begrudgingly ¡ªdo it. After all, they foster a friendship that¡¯s so unshakable that even someone like Li¡­ wouldn¡¯t¡­ Simon and Li are close. Simon would also do anything for Li if she so much as asked. If you were to put two and two together¡­ Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. The future of the Year 217 Mafia is at stake! Never mind whatever action Li may do while passing through L¨¹beck¡ªSimon is just as unpredictable as she is. Zhui doesn¡¯t want to doubt his good friend. He really, truly doesn¡¯t. But desperate times call for desperate measures! And Zhui believes that Simon, in wonderful hindsight, will come to understand what he, the magnificent Don is about to do. Simon¡¯s feathers might be a little ruffled at first, but it¡¯s a price to pay to guarantee the survivability of the Dong-lead pirate regime. I do not wish to divide the Year 217 Mafia into civil war, not under these circumstances¡ªnot when the enemy is at our very gates. Bah! It¡¯s all a bunch of bogus. Zhui should have strangled her when he had the chance. Get rid of the problem. It¡¯s as simple as! Oh, hindsight is a beautiful thing! ¡°Get me the communications operator! We are to send a message to SideBrunsb¨¹ttel ahead of the Li Chou fleet. ¡° There is visible confusion from an adjutant. ¡°To¡­ Brunsb¨¹ttel, Don? Not theMadame?¡± Zhui heaves a sigh, ¡°I didn¡¯t stutter, did I?¡± He looks around the room, ¡°No ? Good little boys and girls do not ask questions, my good boy! They do as they are told. Now then, fetch me that communications operator¡± My poor friend Simon. I wish I didn¡¯t have to involve you like this, I really didn¡¯t! But in the end, it seems paranoia will get the best of me. The communications operator stands before Zhui and gives him a salute. ¡°Don! It is an honor to be summoned by you¡­¡± ¡°Yes, yes, you are welcome,¡± he hand-waves the eagerness of the man away. ¡°Come closer, this message¡­ ¡°It¡¯s a bit of a doozy as you kids say these days, haha! It would¡­ certainly cause a ruckus if the contents were overheard. Here, closer¡ªcloser. Don¡¯t be afraid! I do not bite too hard, haha!¡± It truly is a shame, isn¡¯t it Simon? Chapter 25: Memories of Toscana | Deliberations at L眉beck In between each jump the words of father echo through my mind. Don¡¯t double-cross me, lest the next time we meet it will be in hell! A part of me is shocked he would consider the possibility that I might betray the Year 217 Mafia¡ªnow of all times! If all that man is capable of is paranoia about others double-crossing them then perhaps the regime is better off collapsing. Maybe a change of power is needed after all. Father has grown too spineless to effectively defend the Mafia from the Federation or even colonial incursions. If the Mafia hopes to survive and adapt through these challenging times it needs leadership that can mediate with the Federation incursion and mitigate the loss of life. ¡­And yet, with each passing jump, I began realizing that this form of thinking is precisely why father is so paranoid about a military coup. It should only be a given theDon would have such a hostile attitude towards anyone who steadily gains influence. Rather said influence is in the form of politics or military prowess¡ªeither are capable of challenging his authority. Of course, at present, there are no real candidates other than Simon and myself. Even narrowing it down further, I stand at the helm of the majority of our fleet. Even if I stood alone against all the other parties¡ªnotwithstanding the presence of the Federation¡ªthe odds are still in my favor. Even if there were more ambitious leadership¡ªeven one who shared a similar unlikable relationship with father, would jump at the opportunity to seize power and establish his or her Year 220 Mafia. Father should be glad that no such character has volunteered for this task. I might be the most concerning thorn for him, but there are wolves behind his back that would, without hesitation, be more than willing to throw him under the bus and declare themselves the Don of a new mafia. From there, I expect we would see lieutenants from even the Ides and Modon star zones throwing up mafia regimes of their own¡­ or collaborate with the Federation to save their hides. Of course, this is very well a scenario that could happen rather it is me or another individual that attempts a coup at side Brunsb¨¹ttel . But even if they decided to oppose me in some capacity, I would still have the initial edge. Stretched out for sure, but subduing them would only be a migraine at most. And as for Che¡­ It¡¯s hard to contemplate what Che¡¯s angle could be in all of this, notwithstanding his current besiegement. He¡¯s not the sort to have any particular political ambition. Che is already favored by our father and is more likely to succeed when the Don dies. That¡¯s something not even I could doubt. Che has virtually no reason to turn on our father, lest the Don decides to pass on power to Simon of all people¡ªwhich could sow the seeds of civil war in any case¡ªor Simon sees him as inept and acts on his initiative. If either Simon or I try to assume power, Che would most likely stand against us¡­ well, by us, I mean¡­ Simon¡­ What would Simon do if I attempt to seize power? Would he stand with or against me? If Simon were to¡ªby some chance¡ªever rouse the idea of sparing unnecessary losses, he could attempt to negotiate with Federation forces for amenity. I would be all for it. ¡­But for Simon that would require betraying his oath brother. I do no doubt it¡¯s a choice he couldn¡¯t bring himself to do, much less one he could consider lightly. If I were in Simon¡¯s shoes it¡¯s not something I could see myself doing, either, if it was the case with Olga and I. But surely Simon would see that there is an alternative to shedding bloodshed? I have no doubt that under Simon¡¯s leadership we could strive for coexistence with the Federation¡ªand even see Toscana as a reincorporated state in the Federation. In fact¡­ What would Simon do? Each jump brings us ever closer to L¨¹beck. Each time I regain consciousness the same scene plays out in my mind. The same memory of father warning me of what happens if I betray him. Surely it was not an empty threat. I could not put it past my father to give confidential orders to Simon to reprimand anyone that attempted to capitalize on father¡¯s absence¡ªeven if that someone was me. To be Simon and be placed between a rock and a hard place like that would be haunting for anyone else. To choose between the one you have a lifelong oath to and the one you hold dear. The very thought makes my stomach turn. My sustained train of thoughts is interrupted by the buzzing of the intercom across from me on my oak desk. Ignoring the whining intercom, for now, I make my way to the nearest circular porthole and peer into it. The imposing sight of the O¡¯Vertame Cylinder Cluster is one to behold. Several of them rotate in unison at a slow rate. Underneath the Cluster, there is the gigantic pale blue planet of L¨¹beck that encompasses most of the background. In the far distance, one could make out Cluster colonies at L¨¹beck¡¯s various Lagrange points. The nearest Cluster must be the capital one. From this distance, I can make out a blanket of debris composed of an uneven mix of steel and soil that seems to have spewed from what I can only imagine is the capital; Side Brunsb¨¹ttel. Dotted around it is the odd number of shuttles attempting to either collect the rubble or patch upBrunsb¨¹ttel¡¯s exterior. So, what Sergi mentioned is correct after all. From the looks of it, Che¡¯s hurried messenger did punch through an exposed side of the Brunsb¨¹ttel. Honestly, I¡¯m impressed the messenger even lived through the impact to tell Simon of the ongoing calamity at the Valspon system¡­ assuming he did perish, anyway. Either way, it shows that he has unyielding resolve in the task given him, and I greatly appreciate his contribution. If I were to ever see him after this debacle ends, I will make sure to thank him when that time comes. The intercom, with it¡¯s grating one tune buzz, has never once let up. Goodness! Whoever is calling is persistent. They should know I do not like being disrupted by such devices. I make my way towards the oak desk and lean over to activate the intercom. ¡°Speak.¡± ¡°Ah, Madame! Sergi wishes to inform you your presence is needed on the¡ª¡± It¡¯s the voice of Olga. But I can¡¯t be bothered to listen to what she has to say right now. ¡°¡ªSorry, Olga, but I want to be left alone, at least for a little longer, but¡­¡± ¡°¡­ Madame ?¡± She sounds a bit hurt. That makes me a bit hurt. I stare down at the intercom as if to look through it at Olga herself. Maybe what I need right now is another head to throw my thoughts to. I¡¯m sure Olga would only agree with me with whatever I may say, but¡­ Or maybe I should ask for Sergi¡¯s company. Knowing Olga she would, without hesitation, jump the gun on a coup led by me after I share my thoughts with her. Who knows what she is capable of doing to ensure that my will is imposed on the people of L¨¹beck. On the other hand, Sergi would be a more cautious candidate. He is not the one to criticize me for my actions these days, but at least having another like-minded individual will give me insight on how a coup might benefit us. No offense to you, Olga. But¡­ Initiating a coup would probably lead to a firefight in some way or another if Simon does indeed stage a resistance. I would not want to put Olga in danger¡ªeven if I didinstruct her to stay with the fleet wh¡ª ¡°Madame? Are you still there?¡± Oh, goodness. I left poor Olga hanging. I suppose it doesn¡¯t hurt to invite her over, at least for a little while. ¡°¡ªMy apologies, Olga, if you could¡­ pick up a bottle of alcohol and entertain me for a little while.¡± ¡°¡­Right away, Madame. Do you have any preferences? I believe Sergi stocked up on a wide variety before we originally departed from Brunsb¨¹ttel a month ago.¡± Preference?¡­ I¡¯ve never been the one to partake in such poisonous liquid. I tried it once at Sergi¡¯s suggestion some years ago, and the taste was bitter. Since then I¡¯ve stuck to the likes of tea. ¡°¡­Pick out what you like, Olga.¡± ¡°W-what I like? If you wish, Madame¡­¡± Olga sounds a bit surprised but ends transmission soon after. Maybe a talk with Olga over some alcohol is what I need right now. The consumption of such when it comes to important decision making dates back to the ancient bustling days of Terra, or so Simon says. There were even cases where I witnessed my father and Simon discuss tactics over a bottle or thrice. I¡¯m just continuing the human tradition of such. Many years ago, a wise man once said that alcohol is man¡¯s best friend. A knock at the door. ¡°Olga? Come in.¡± With a whoosh, the door slides open. The amazon blonde steps into the cabin holding a faded brown tray with a bucket of ice in it, and two palm-sized glass cups. Sticking out of the container was a single white bottle with a clear liquid. ¡°Where do you want me to set it down, Madame?¡± Olga asks with those rare lively brown eyes of hers. ¡°Ah¡­ yes, you can set it down on the coffee table over there.¡± I point to a small table situated between two red leather sofas. As Olga sets it down in the middle of the table, I seat myself on one of them; Olga sits down on the one facing me. ¡°Hmm? This drink¡­¡± I peer closer to give the tall bottle a closer look. It was so transparent and unlike the dark muddily ones I¡¯ve seen before. ¡°It¡¯s Ruthenian vodka, Madame. Have you tried it before?¡± ¡°Vod¡ªka?¡± I scrunch my eyebrows in puzzlement. ¡°I cannot say I have, or heard of it before for that matter. What about you, Olga? Have you consumed this sort before?¡± Olga shakes her head. ¡°Only partially. I¡¯ve never been the one to drink with the others¡­ and consuming it alone only makes loneliness more bitter. But if it¡¯s with you I wouldn¡¯t mind consuming a fair bit.¡± Olga removes the cap of the bottle and fills each of our cups halfway. ¡°Would you like some ice in yours, Madame?¡± ¡°A few would not hurt.¡± Olga takes two icy cubes from the bucket and carefully drops them into my glass. She slides it across the table towards me, the cubes swivel around as she does so. I give it a gentle stroke all over. It¡¯s freezing to the touch as one would expect. I pick it up but do not drink from the glass yet. Looking over at Olga, she takes a few sips from her cup, and although my eyes were possibly deceiving me, she winces at the taste. I bring the glass to my lips to sample a taste from mine. But before drinking, I try to smell the contents but pick up no odor. Ah, well¡­ Still not too sure about drinking too much, I only sample a few sips from the glass. And surprisingly¡­ I experience no taste, at least not at first. But oddly enough there is, for lack of a better word, an unpleasant aftertaste that I can only describe as slimy. ¡°¡­Just what is this exactly?¡± I ask out loud. ¡°How can Simon and others drink this rubbish?¡± Olga can¡¯t help but chuckle. ¡°I suppose there is a reason why the men, even master Simon, avoid this kind of brand. It¡¯s the one drink that is a regulator in our fridges.¡± With each sip, I feel like the tasteless taste only becomes more evident. But I have to pause after only a few gulps¡ªmy head feels slightly empty. I still have to maintain composure if I am to strike at the Federation in Valspon. I can¡¯t risk getting too drunk and embarrassing myself in front of my men. Should I be addressing Olga with a drunken mindset, or would it be better to make a rational decision while I¡¯m still under a clear mind? I don¡¯t believe I could ever understand the mentality of drinking before pivotal moments of history. Although I suppose there is the charm of loosening yourself in mind and body. ¡°Olga¡­¡± Exercising some self-control while I still, I promptly set down the still yet half-filled glass on a coaster. Should I permit Olga to drink any more? I need her as sober as I am for the pending campaign. Yet¡­ Maybe it wouldn¡¯t hurt for her and the men to relax while they still can. We are, more or less, crossing the point of no return. There is no telling that this engagement could be the last time to enjoy a period of recreation. From this moment onward, I will need to push the men to their breaking point. Perhaps it¡¯s not a bad idea to let them enjoy themselves while they still can. That way we can march on without regret. ¡°Ma~dame? What is it?¡± Olga sounds a bit slurred. Her face looks a bit blemish already. I never took Olga for being a lightweight. She always seemed like the one to hold her own in a drinking contest. From the looks of it, her glass is already down to a few spits worth of vodka. I suppose it¡¯s too late now to ask Olga not to drink anymore¡­ and I suppose it wouldn¡¯t hurt to let the men enjoy a break before I force march them to Valspon and back. ¡­If I was to initiate a coup d¡¯etat now, though, it might work against my favor to have a band of drunkards against Simon¡¯s elite force. Olga glares at me with her colorful eyes as I slide the bucket containing the bottle out of her reach¡ªeven so far as putting it on the cushion next to me. She is tall after all, so she could easily reach out to grab the bottle if it remains on the table. ¡° My, my¡­ are you going to hog the bottle all to yourself, Ma~dame? ¡± Olga carelessly groans. ¡°How humorous of you, Olga¡ªI think that¡¯s possibly enough for now. You can consume more of it later. ¡°For now, I need to talk to you about something important.¡± Olga winces, and she sits up with a straight face. Was she merely feigning being drunk? ¡°Yes, Madame, I¡¯m all ears. But is there any reason why you have not summoned Sergi as well?¡± She makes a point. It would be beneficial to have Sergi here, as well¡­ but it might be better to leave him in the dark until the very last moment. It could be risky if Sergi sells me out to Simon in the time being. Giving my cabin a quick scan, I doubt he or anyone else would have the nerve to wiretap my room, either. But in the case that he was tasked by my father to¡­ No, I can¡¯t begin doubting my men, not now. Sergi is faithful to me, I sincerely doubt he would go through with such an intriguing plot. I eye my glass of vodka¡ªand the melting ice cubes on top of each other. The top collapses as its supporting cube is unable to sustain its brethren any longer. Am Ibuying into the very same paranoia that I believe is plaguing my father? I can¡¯t help but scoff. Even though we aren¡¯t related by blood in the slightest, one could say the apple doesn¡¯t go too far from the tree. ¡°Madame?¡± I ought to break that habit of falling into my consciousness. I have to hand it to Olga for putting up with me monologuing so much. Perhaps I should drink a little bit more¡ª But before I can reach for my cup, Olga leans over and snatches it out of my grasp. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. ¡°If this is a serious matter, then I believe you shouldn¡¯t drink, either, Madame.¡± ¡°¡­!¡± I try to suppress a gasp, but a burrowed brow escapes the attempt to maintain a stoic expression. ¡°¡­It¡¯s uncharacteristic of you to resort to drinking your problems away, no? I¡¯m sort of getting the picture that you¡¯re getting too anxious about the march to relieve master Che, is that it, Madame ? Are you having¡­ second thoughts about something?¡± Do I tell Olga? Can I trust her after all? I¡¯ve known Olga for years¡­ I hate to make the comparison again¡­ but she is my blood sister, so to speak; she is to me what Simon is to father . My upper chest feels a bit heavy. Even my arms begin to feel weak and shiver despite clasping my hands. Is my body strained from all the jumps? The lack of energy from not eating in what feels like forever? I¡¯m not sure I know what the best course of action is anymore¡­ To needlessly throw away lives at Valspon¡­ or underhand the Year 217 Mafia and overthrow both father and Simon¡ªassuming of course he stands against me. Even that equates a fair amount of bloodshed. The doubt of his stance is too big to ignore at this point. The longer I have the fleet staying here would only raise suspicion on Simon¡¯s part. But one fact remains; at this moment, Olga is the only one I can trust. I have to leave the rest of the fleet in the dark until the moment is right. There¡¯s no going back now. I trust Sergi too, of course, but there¡¯s always a chance he will expose me before the time comes. ¡°Olga¡­ ¡°Hypothetically¡­ if I were to¡­¡± I bite my lower lip and tighten my clasped hands. How would one even go about admitting their interest in pursuing a goal that involves the lesser of bloodshed but betraying your fellow lieutenants? I suppose I could beat around the bush for a while, so to speak. I sit up straight and look Olga right in the eyes. ¡°Do you believe¡­ there is an alternative to this bloodshed?¡± Olga looks at me with surprise. ¡°A¡­ alternative, Madame? I am not sure¡­ ¡°Hmmm¡­¡± She strokes her chin and squints. ¡°An alternative¡­ to avoiding wasteful losses? You mention this while we are outside the gates of the Brunsb¨¹ttel¡­¡± She casually takes a short sip from the glass of vodka she took from me. The little rascal, she just wanted more to drink, and from my glass to boot¡­ Olga sets it down and leans back into the sofa, her gaze shifts to the porthole where the Cluster takes up much of the view by now. She remains silent for what feels like a long time. Before long, Olga¡¯s eyes widen. Shooting up from her relaxed posture and making eye contact with shaking pupils, Olga only asks in a lowered voice. ¡°Madame¡­ you aren¡¯t thinking about¡­?!¡± A nervous glance at the cabin doorway leading outside. A moment of hesitation on my part. With a throat clear, I can only afford to nod. Olga is speechless, but soon she bursts out laughing. She laughs for so long that it makes me feel a bit unsettled. ¡°Is there something amusing about this, Olga?¡± I ask as warmly as I can. ¡°No! No¡­ I¡¯m sorry Madame, please forgive me¡­¡± She has cried so hard that she has teared up a little. I suppose if I blamed the alcohol, then I have no reason to direct any anger at Olga. ¡°I was¡­ surprised.¡± Surprised? ¡°¡­I never could have imagined you would even consider an option like that. It¡¯s unthinkable.¡± ¡°¡­Unthinkable, huh¡± I muse. ¡°But as for what I would do¡­ that is a tough question, indeed. I¡¯m not sure I could shoulder that sort of responsibility, Madame. I suppose that is why you are a lieutenant and why I am but your servant.¡± Olga chuckles a bit at the end, and I can¡¯t help but sense there is some sadness in that. ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous, Olga¡ªif I did not have you by my side, I would have never garnered¡­ this pretentious pseudonym. Do you really think I deserve this name after what you just saw? I am even less worthy than I am of the family name.¡± That being the Dong surname, of course. Olga shakes her head, ¡°Nonsense¡­ even without me, there will always be someone there with even better skills than I could ever possess. You overestimate what I am capable of.¡± ¡°I dislike how you belittle yourself like that so casually, Olga. I truly detest that part about you.¡± ¡°My apologies¡­ Madame ¡­ I appreciate that you think so highly of me. You speak of not being worthy of the Madame Scarface name, but I am even more undeserving of your praise.¡± Olga shifts around in her seat. ¡°But back to the point¡­ if I was in your position, I believe¡­¡± Olga remains silent for a while. ¡°I believe¡­ the best choice is to seize power and seek an audience with our Federation adversary. It may save lives¡­ but we may be held accountable for our actions. I believe you came to the same conclusion, Madame ?¡± I can only nod. ¡°It is something along those lines¡­ though you fail to factor in if Simon would confront us about it, and who knows if a conflict that breaks out between us would be worth the loss of lives. I do not believe there is any way to achieve an exit strategy that does not involve the loss of lives in some way or another¡­ I¡¯m worried that even our men will turn on us, Sergi no less also. But even so, a coup atBrunsb¨¹ttel should, I believe, be the greater outcome compared to fighting at Valspon¡ªjust speaking for the sake of our men. I¡¯ve¡­ come to accept that me, you¡­ and all the other lieutenants will be indeed be forced to take responsibility for all our collective actions. ¡°¡­I feel the only person I can trust at the moment¡ªis you, Olga.¡± For just a second Olga looked moved by my words. But perhaps the effects of alcohol is making me see things. ¡°¡­I¡¯m grateful¡­ that you think that way, Madame, ¡± Olga replies weakly ¡°you know I¡¯ve always been grateful for you, ever since that day you stubbornly let me live. And I owe a lot to you¡ªa debt that could possibly never be repaid in this life.¡± Olga abruptly gets up from her seat and sits down next to me. She clasps one of my hands. ¡°Madame¡­ no matter what you may do¡ªI will, without hesitation, follow you wherever you go, whatever that may entail. Even if the entire galaxy turned against us, I will unwaveringly stand by your side¡­¡± What is this? Why does my chest feel so tight? Before I even know it, I feel like choking up from tears. ¡°¡­I would lie down my very life if it means you must achieve whatever your goal may be. My life is your tool, Madame. ¡°¡­But please don¡¯t cry. You¡¯re a strong woman, and no one, not even me, should ever bear witness to you shedding tears.¡± I bury myself into Olga¡¯s chest. ¡°Olga¡­ hck¡­ thank you. Thank you so much. I always knew from the bottom of my heart that I could trust you.¡± Olga wraps her arms around me and softly strokes my hair. ¡°If you intend to take over the government, I will do whatever I can¡ªwhatever in my power¡ªto support you in any way I can. Whatever your word is, I will do it, Madame.¡± ¡°If I may share my opinion, Madame¡­¡± ¡°And what is that, Olga?¡± I utter trying to wipe away the tears. ¡°I do not think crying suits you at all.¡± She says with a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. ¡°If that¡¯s an attempt at humor then I order you to shut up now.¡± I blurt out as she proceeds in assisting wiping away the tears. The palm of her hand is rough but cold to the touch. She rubs more of my face. ¡°Madame¡­¡± Olga says quietly. She brings her face closer to mine, and each hot breath brushes my lips. Her cheeks are a bit reddish, and her drowsy pupils stare into mine. ¡° I¡­¡± ¡ªThe intercom interrupts the moment with the one tune buzz. Indistinctly, I get up and make my way towards it. What am I doing? ? ? I press down on the button to activate the transmission. ¡°Speak.¡± I say in a tone that startles even myself; am I really that angry right now? ¡°Uh¡­ sorry Madame! Sergi urges you to come down to the bridge at once.¡± Sigh¡­ I suppose there¡¯s no turning back now. The time has come. ¡°Very well. I will be down momentarily.¡± After I finish, I terminate the transmission. ¡°Olga?¡± She sits as she was; her head hung low. ¡°Will you be joining us on the bridge? I imagine this will be important for you too.¡± ¡°¡­¡± Olga doesn¡¯t budge at all. Is she¡­ mad at me? Can I blame her? ¡°Hahaha¡­ I¡¯m sorry, Madame. I¡¯m just¡­ a bit upset at myself is all. You need not worry about me. Yes. I will join you momentarily if you do not depart by then.¡± She gets up and faces me with a weak smile. It¡¯s hard to tell if there¡¯s a hint of hurt in those beady eyes of her. ¡°Very well¡­ I hope to see you soon, Olga. In the event you come back and I¡¯m already at the Brunsb¨¹ttel, I will inform the men that I am placing you in direct command of the fleet. Please¡­ do not do anything too rashly, I¡­ Olga, I trust you understand?¡± Olga gives a meekly nod. ¡°I will refrain from anything that will put the men at risk,Madame . I swear by your name¡ªby Li Chou¡¯s name.¡± ¡°¡­Even if I were to¡­ not come back alive?¡± Olga grimaces. ¡°I do not want to think about that possibility. I trust Simon would not go that far¡­¡± ¡°I suppose you are right, well then¡­ I shall be off.¡± I proceed to step through the sliding door¡ª But stop. With one foot in the doorway, I turn to look back at Olga, who still has her eyes trained on me. ¡°Olga¡­erm¡­ thank you. Thank you for everything. For the confidence¡ªand always being by my side. I hope you will continue to be by my side when this is all over.¡± Olga looks at me with a slight surprise but maintains her composure by the end. She cracks a smile. ¡°Don¡¯t say stuff like that, you might just make me cry.¡± ¡°¡ªI don¡¯t think crying suits you either, Olga.¡± I echo the words to her. And without further ado, I head for the bridge.
Sergi taps his foot impatiently. ¡°Do you know how long I have waited for you to show up? Do you know how much trouble Mission Control has been giving me? For the love of¡­¡± Sergi lets loose a sigh and briefly buries a hand into his face. I give Sergi a gracious bow. ¡°My condolences, Sergi. I am greatly appreciative of your hard work.¡± ¡°Hard work¡­ hard work, yeah. So are we proceeding to Valspon or what?¡± ¡°No, as a matter of fact, I believe it will be beneficial to let the men rest for a while.¡± I reply warmly. Sergi and some of the nearby men in earshot give me glances. ¡°Rest?¡± Sergi sneers. ¡°Rest, and let Valspon fall? Look, we wasted enough time as is¡ª¡± ¡°Listen to me, Sergi. This is the only window we have to let the men recuperate. After this point, we will have to viciously assault the Federation forces without letting them have a chance to breathe. And after we push them out of Valspon¡­ we will need to keep the momentum and rapid march back to the Velksland system. Che could very well be on his death¡¯s throes by now. But it is necessary for him to suffer for the time being so we can conserve our energy for the coming tactical redeployments. ¡°The men under Che are not as much of a buffoon as their commander is. The anti-ship capabilities at Malabo are also sufficient enough for at least several more hours¡ªand even then they must storm the Side which could last another few hours on top of that. Che would not be idiotic enough to retreat without a fight. He faces execution by the Federation or by father either way. ¡°So yes, Sergi. I will intend for the men to let the men enjoy the only chance they have. After this¡­ I fully intend to push them past their limits¡ªwe have no chance covering two fronts otherwise.¡± I pull Sergi closer to me, ignoring his surprised grunt. ¡°Listen to me Sergi, I believe I have another alternative to this upcoming bloodbath.¡± ¡°What did you say¡ª¡± ¡°Assemble a few companies of your best men. I¡¯ll give you about thirty minutes. We won¡¯t have much time after that. While we¡¯re at it dispatch a few barges for supplies. ¡± I say in a low voice, out of earshot of the others. The time for relaxation will have to come until after our potential coup. It would be too detrimental to allow anyone to relax just yet. ¡°Excuse the following¡­ erm¡­ bombshell¡­¡± I clear my throat and pull Sergi away from the others ¡°I was going to inform you earlier but lacked the chance¡­¡± Sergi looks bewildered. His eyes dart around the bridge, and certainly by now more eyes are trained on us. At this point, it doesn¡¯t matter anymore. If L¨¹beck¡¯s Mission Control is complaining about a stealth fleet arriving from a system where there¡¯s an enormous Federation armada at the doorstep, I¡¯d be a little antsy in Simon¡¯s shoes too. Simon knows we are here already. It matters not if my plans leak out. ¡°I believe the only way to avoid unnecessary loss of life and material is to seize the capital and negotiate for peace with the Federation¡ªand Simon will help us. I¡¯m confident he will keep his head cool and join us. This will not be a bloody coup, I hope¡­ but they might need some convincing.¡± Sergi turns pale. ¡°You intend¡­ to betray your father?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t paint me the villain here, Sergi. You and I both know that there is no way we can avoid the clutches of the Federation forever. Use your head! If we can surrender to the Federation, we can even be granted amnesty and walk as free men!¡± Well¡­ for some of us, anyway. At this point, you could say it¡¯s delusional of me to believe any top lieutenant will be spared. If we¡¯re really lucky. Only my father and I will be executed for our crimes. But if that¡¯s what it takes to save lives, then I will do it, no hesitation. ¡°You cannot be serious, Madame.¡± ¡°There is no other way. This is our only chance, Sergi! Do you intend to make me beg for your cooperation?!¡± Sergi shakes his head. ¡°Madame¡­ if that is your wish, I do see some¡­¡± he clears his throat, "rational thinking in your plan¡­ but are you sure you are not intoxicated?¡± ¡°I am completely sober and therefore fully aware of my actions and its consequences, Sergi. I would not even think about throwing away lives at a drunken whim.¡± Although I did come close to it¡­ but thankfully Olga did drink my glass before I could even consider it. ¡°So what say you, Sergi? I understand this is in fact an awkward crossroads for you¡­ but will you lend me you and your men to assist in a seizure of power?¡± Sergi remains silent for a bit, his scrunched brow twitches on occasion. ¡°Madame¡­ if I could express my opinion.¡± ¡°No need to be so formal, Sergi.¡± ¡°Right¡­ I think this has to be the most idiotic plan you have ever devised¡­ but truthfully, your father¡¯s plan to intercept the Federation force at Valspon is all the more so idiotic on a grand scale. Everything about this is idiotic!¡± ¡°Keep your voice down,¡± I say with a stern warning. ¡°¡ªRight, my apologies. But that aside¡­ I suppose we don¡¯t have much of a choice, do we? At best if it fails we¡ªyou can deal with the political fallout¡ªif we make it through this in one piece, anyway.¡± ¡°I will worry about that when the time comes¡­ but do you think you can assemble a few companies in the time I gave you?¡± Sergi nods, ¡°Of course, I will muster as many as I can and meet up with you in the hanger bay.¡± ¡°Very well¡± I salute Sergi and see him leave the bridge room. ¡°¡­¡± With a sigh of relief, I turn my attention to the bridge staff. Their worried eyes are still trained on me. ¡°¡­You there!¡± I point to the radio operator, who nearly jumps in place. ¡°Send a wired transmission to the fleet informing all crew to enjoy as much recreation as we can¡ªbut under no circumstances will anybody head for either the L¨¹beck settlements or the Cluster colonies. Do I make myself clear? ¡°I will also let all of you¡ªhere¡ªtake shifts to rest, no more than an hour or two at most. Enjoy it while you can, because I will not permit any breaks once we march into Valspon. ¡°Sergi and I will depart for the capital, and Olga Kaiser will be acting commander of the fleet in the meantime. Do I make myself clear?¡± The bridge declares they confirm the order in unison. ¡°Good. I will be in the hanger room if anybody needs me¡­ Oh, inform L¨¹beck¡¯s Mission Control we will be requesting supplies and a meeting with Simon by the next hour.¡± Once more a universal grunt from the men. With no more business to be had here, I depart the bridge in silence. All the pieces are falling into place, slowly but surely... there¡¯s definitely no turning back¡ªI¡¯ve made up my mind. All there is to do now is wait. Chapter 26: Memories of Toscana | Deliberations at L眉beck Part 2 It¡¯s unusual for Sergi to be late. Although the man himself is not present yet, many of his men have already mustered by now. At least one full company has assembled by now. The rest are either pouring in from our barracks or arriving from transport shuttles from the rest of the fleet. Thirty minutes have ticked by and yet there is still no sign of the gruff looking man. I don¡¯t need to say that we¡¯re falling slightly behind schedule. Is Sergi experiencing difficulties with getting the last of his men? Or did he get pulled aside to get an earful by the Mission Control transmission? ¡°Madame!¡± I turn around to see the man who has been causing me a migraine. ¡°Sorry, I had some issues to matter to. Some men were not willing to cooperate.¡± That¡¯s a bit concerning, I cross my arms. ¡°This isn¡¯t going to become an issue, will it? You did not think to bring this to my attention earlier?¡± Sergi shakes his head. ¡°It will not cause us any problems now, it just means we will be a few men short¡ªI decided to throw them in the brig for a while. Let them cool their heads. ¡°¡­I don¡¯t believe we need this many men anyway.¡± Sergi finishes with a muse. ¡°You could be right about that¡± I gaze through the stern, emotionless expressions of the men who line before Sergi and I, ¡°if we bring too little we can¡¯t put up a fight. If we bring too many it will complicate things. I suppose this is quite the predicament, no?¡± Sergi seems a bit disturbed that I would say that out loud for the others to hear. He steps closer to me, obscuring me from the others. He leans in real close, it seems he doesn¡¯t want to have the men hear this; has he not told them our intentions yet? Well, regardless if he has or not the case of needing to suppress some dissent suggests some of them have connected the dots before. If most of them weren¡¯t aware of it then, they had to be aware of the revelation now. ¡°¡ªWith all due respect, Madame, it¡¯s not too late to call this off¡ªAs idiotic as the plan is, we should just get the supply barges and let the men enjoy a moment of recreation while we still can. No good can come out of this. This will have dire consequences for you later if it fails, never mind the fact if Simon and his men do not execute you.¡± But I can¡¯t back out of this now. The die has¡ªmore or less by now¡ªbeen cast. A similar saying credited to ambitious dictators would be this is the point of passing the Rubicon . I can¡¯t help but crack a smirk, ¡°Sergi¡­ are you getting cold feet?¡± ¡°I¡­uh¡­ Madame?¡± He takes a step back¡ªstill obstructing the men behind us, and looks at me with puzzlement. ¡°If that is how it goes down then I have no qualms with my fate. You are more than free to stay here on the sidelines with Olga if you are feeling cowardly.¡± I reply with a bigger grin than before. ¡°Accusing me of being a coward¡­¡± He scoffs and rolls his eyes. ¡°Why is it you want me to come with you, and not Olga in any case?¡± I¡¯m surprised he would only ask me now, but I suppose it¡¯s a fair point regardless. ¡°I feel that¡­ Olga might put my plans at stake¡ªand¡­¡± trailing off, I can¡¯t help but lightly clasp my hands together. ¡°¡ªI¡­ don¡¯t want to imagine if things escalated, I don¡¯t want her to get hurt¡­ or worst yet¡­¡± ¡°And you decided to take me with you, because¡­¡± ¡°Don¡¯t get the wrong idea, Sergi, I am not suggesting you are¡­ expendable or anything of the sort. You are valuable to me almost as much as Olga¡ª¡± I pause at the moment when Sergi scoffs with amusement, ¡°¡ªI¡¯ve just decided you are far less likely to do anything that would cause provocation. If things come to worst¡­ I¡¯m sure you can maintain a clear head and maintain discipline in your men. Olga on the other hand¡­¡± Sergi nods with each word, and even after I finish speaking he continues to nod in acknowledgment. ¡°¡­I feel as though you are putting too much faith in me, Madame.But it is not too wrongly placed.¡± Sergi turns to address our men and orders them to load onto the shuttles. The next moment my ears are violated by the rumbling of hundreds of boots as our company of shabby men herd themselves into the shuttles¡¯ passenger cabins. The rumbling of footsteps dies down, and the two of us are left alone with the calming atmosphere of engineers toiling away at their craft. ¡°¡ªDo you think, if it comes to it, you are willing to give the order to neutralize Simon if he poses an obstacle to your goal?¡± Sergi asks, breaking the quiet melody of machinery hisses. ¡°Do you have what it takes to pull the trigger yourself? To become a devil greater than your father, and bloody your hands with the corpse of the one you held dear?¡± ¡°¡­¡± Sergi is caught off-guard when I walk past him without a word. I stop halfway on the ramp leading into one of the shuttles¡¯ side doors. ¡°Sergi.¡± ¡°Yes, Madame!¡± Sergi snaps to attention with a chest salute. ¡°There¡¯s no more room for hesitation now¡ªand you can cut out the formalness, Sergi, I¡¯m not angry at you¡­ we can spend all day speculating about the ifs and wontsof this scheme. But I¡¯d rather not. I¡¯ve had enough of this back and forth dialog. It¡¯s starting to get a little tiring discussing this to death. ¡± ¡°¡ªBut it is necessary, no?¡± I reel to face Sergi. ¡°Necessary? While I did say it is necessary to let Che suffer for a little while, I didn¡¯t mean to let his men suffer in vain. This is the time for action, Sergi.¡± Sergi looked like he wanted to make another argument, but he seemed resigned to let me have the last say in the matter. His shoulders relax at last ¡ª he must¡¯ve been unusually tense, was he expecting me to back out of this after all? ¡ª and joins me in the passenger cabin with the others.
? ¡°MAPPA-1 to Side Brunsb¨¹ttel Mission Control, requesting navigational entry into the harbor.¡± I could make out one of the shuttle pilots speaking into his intercom. Dozens of us were strapped into our seats¡ªsome looked nervous, and I don¡¯t blame them. Others look terrified, stricken, darting eyes between their peers and averting mine when we make eye contact. An odd few were leaning forward to vomit their breakfasts. I suppose these reactions are only natural. We are, after all, confronting the legendary pirate Simon Oliver himself. The man that many could say is the founding father of the Year 217 Mafia. While my father is the head of state¡ªthe Don¡ª the lieutenants, like Simon, are the ones who manage the actual handling of government affairs. It was Simon who even proposed the code of laws that we pirates must abide by, as well as putting to use basic Federation laws for the civilian populace, to ensure a peaceful transition of power. Putting aside my father, we are essentially going against the very foundation of the Mafia itself. With my permission, Sergi has spent a good amount of time discussing the true purpose of our mission to the capital Side. Sergi informed the men back then he had them assembled and readied with the intent to assist hauling supplies to the barges that will then be ferried to the rest of the fleet. It¡¯s not too far from the truth, since we will need to help out with moving equipment around. But their real purpose, in his words, is to assist the Madame Scarface for a coup d¡¯etat in any way she sees fit. Some of the more¡­ intellectual thugs were more than capable of connecting the dots when Sergi instructed them to also bring along their weapons. You don¡¯t go into your capital under the pretense of moving around supplies while carrying fully loaded guns. I suppose these were the ones Sergi had to snip in the bud before it could jeopardize the plan. Scanning the faces¡ªa good mix of old elites and young men¡ªmany of the mature ones seem relaxed. As if deep-down, they have quietly accepted that this would happen, I imagine the older gentlemen knew that this day would eventually come to fruition. It¡¯s only human nature that a ruthless adoptive daughter of an even more ruthless pirate dictator would make a move to overthrow him. Even if it was all done for a noble cause. For a noble cause¡­ ¡°¡­This is Side Brunsb¨¹ttel Mission Control¡ª MAPPA-1, MAPPA-2, and MAPPA-3 you are clear for landing.¡± The intercom from the cockpit pops with a bit of static. ¡°Roger that, Mission Control, MAPPA-1 is synchronizing with runaway lane GPT-1.¡± How has aspiring conspirators of eons past championed that their seizure of power is a noble cause? Is it even possible to do so? The values of society change with time, and so too do the interpretations of historians. The means to a coup d''etat can be recognized as a justification for positive change, and it is often the end-result of coups that is the subject of scrutiny. After the purpose of one is said and done, is there any point in remaining in power lest they get deposed of themselves? In my case, would it make more sense to negotiate directly with the Federation at Valspon rather than attempt a coup at Brunsb¨¹ttel? Will history remember me as the one who is pursuing to oust my father for my agenda, rather my actual interest in preserving the overall integrity of the Year 217 Mafia and its members? If I were to step down and let the Federation install governors, would history still be unkind to me, or hold me in praise? The smooth ride of the shuttle is cut short by a heavy jolt. If it were not for the harness I¡ªand the others¡ªwould¡¯ve splattered against the ceiling. Some of the men, mostly the greenhorns, give startled cries. The elite gentlemen either ignore them or give them a few encouraging ones to settle them down. One of the pilots emerges from the cockpit. ¡°Touchdown! We have landed at GPT-1. Madame, the other MAPPA radioed to me informing me they have also landed. They await further orders.¡± All eyes in the passenger cabin turn to me. Despite the daunting gazes, I calmly unfasten the belts holding me in place. Some of the men are already fastening and getting up as well, but I gesture for them to stop. I walk past the endless rows of curious eyes and stop in front of the mechanical box that manages the passenger ramp door. With a clenched fist, I press the top green one. There¡¯s a whining buzz from the door as it lowers into a proper ramp. It¡¯s hard to see outside¡ªthe white mist produced from the shuttle¡¯s engines obstruct anything past a few meters past the ramp door. It does not seem like Simon has sent anyone to greet us yet. Turning to face my band of brothers I gesture for Sergi, who unlocked his harness and stands attentively next to his seat, to come to my side. ¡°Madame?¡± He inquiries, looking over his shoulder at the others. ¡°I know this will sound strange, Sergi, but¡­¡± the smoke was starting to dissipate, and the two of us could make out a dock devoid of anything but the occasional large pallet with fastened goods, the nearby control tower, and a lone figure standing behind an automobile, but from this distance, it is hard to make out who it is as they are not facing us. From my perspective, I can surmise that Simon did not put together any forces of his own. This can either be a good thing or perhaps he has them set up out of sight for an ambush. Unless¡­ ¡°Sergi.¡± ¡°M-Madame?¡± There he is, getting unusually nervous for no reason. I suppose even this tension is getting to him as well. ¡°This may sound strange, but please stay back for the time being.¡± Sergi glares at me with a crooked eyebrow and a partially open mouth that says, what? ¡°I do not want to alarm Simon just yet. I think it will be better to talk it over and if I bring along them in a standoff, it will only result in some of the scared ones getting startled and firing a trigger¡ªand a trigger is all it will take for this coup to produce nothing more than a pile of needless corpses.¡± ¡°I understand, Madame, but at the very least take me with¡ª¡± The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°No.¡± ¡°¡­¡¯ Sergi clears his throat in frustration. ¡°I need you to ensure not a single soul goes out¡­¡± I frown, trying to think of the expression I thought I heard somewhere before, ¡°¡ªguns blazing." Sergi tries to suppress a scoff, but he quickly nods in acknowledgment. ¡°Very well, but what about the men in the other MAPPA crafts?¡± ¡°Leave that to me, but I¡¯ll have you know I have good faith they will not pull anything too stupid.¡± Maybe bringing along Olga would have been a good idea after all¡­ or maybe not. The other companies are being led by some of the¡­ intellectual officers that dared not speak out against Sergi regarding the true context of our Brunsb¨¹ttel escapade. If they can keep the others in check, then all is good. Heaving a sigh, I turned back through the aisle of curious faces towards the cockpit door where the two pilots were still waiting for my order. ¡°Madame?¡± The two of them give me casual chest salutes. ¡°Your orders?¡± ¡°Inform the company commanders to be on standby until further orders. They are not to leave their craft under any circumstances.¡± The one operating the radio gives me a conflicting look but doesn¡¯t question the order. ¡°MAPPA-1 to MAPPA-2 and MAPPA-3¡­¡± The voice trails off as I reel around to head out the craft. All I can hope now is the company officers will stay put. At the end of the day, this is merely a deterrence. So does that mean Simon is doing the same?
The automobile is parked quite a distance from the landing pads. I look behind me to confirm that no one, lest Sergi, went against orders to follow me. Indeed, the shuttle is devoid of any activity. An uneasy tightness in my chest as I get closer to the figure and the dark-blue vehicle. The figure is almost entirely obscured by a leathery tan poncho and hat, making it impossible to tell who it exactly is. But given the person¡¯s excessive height, and an ashtray next to him on the car¡¯s trunk overflowing with one cigarette butt too many, I can only assume it is none other than my aging mentor himself. I stop at the rear of the car, opposite of where the fellow is. My breathing has become increasingly strained, and I find it necessary to inhale deeply in short bursts. I don¡¯t have to hold my chest to know that it is beating fast. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Instead, it is the cloaked figure who breaks the silence. ¡°So you finally came, Li.¡± That all too familiar voice confirms for me it is none other than Simon Oliver. ¡°Si¡­mon¡± I utter, and even I catch myself off-guard at the timidness of my voice. I clench my chest in a futile attempt to calm myself, to no avail. I suddenly feel a little lightheaded, and numbness works its way up from my legs. Is it exhaustion from all the warp jumps? Come to think of it I did not eat much either. I suppose my body could not handle the stress for much longer. I take a few more careful steps toward the trunk and lead against it, just to use as a stabilizer and avoid collapsing to the floor. I look out at the vast naval yard cluttered with pallets and containers. No men have emerged from the MAPPA transports yet. But some of the Brunsb¨¹ttel engineers have arrived in this section of the naval yard and begun the process of moving them to the shuttles. ¡°Li¡­¡± Simon trails off. The pause is joined by lengthy inhales from his cigarette and heaves hazy fumes into the air. To this day I still do not understand why Simon smokes so much of this disgusting substance. From what I know, he has been abusing this nefarious tobacco stuff for decades. It certainly is a popular recreation among the elite guards, as well. Is he as stressed out about this as I am? Looking again at his ashtray, it is more than the usual amount that he consumes¡ªseveral piles are simply thrown on top of each other giving off the sight of a tiny pyramid. ¡°Where are your men?¡± Simon asks after flicking the tiny remains of a cigarette butt onto the tray¡ªwhich proceeds to bounce off it and falls to the floor next to me, instead. ¡°¡­¡± I lift one of my feet and gently crush the remains of the butt under my heel. Not once do the two of us make eye contact. ¡°I feel that you already know the answer to that, Simon¡ªwhy I decided to come out from the fleet when I could have sent an envoy instead¡ªlike Olga, or Sergi.¡± The two of us watch as the supplies are carefully lifted from the pallets and carted up the ramps ofMAPPA-2 and MAPPA-3. Dozen of my men step off the ramps to assist Simon¡¯s engineers. Even on the cusp of a coup, there¡¯s still cooperation between the two parties. I can only silently appeal to merciful celestial beings that nothing ill comes out of it. Simon rummages through his inner breast pockets for something. If I have to guess he is trying to find another carton of cigarettes. Glancing at his feet I can see several crumpled boxes that Simon carelessly disposed of. ¡°That¡¯s a possibility.¡± ¡°You seem¡­ awfully casual about this.¡± Simon gleefully pulls out a half beaten carton of cigarettes and slips out one to light. ¡°Mmm, You could say that.¡± Though, with the subtle jitter Simon has in his other free hand, it¡¯s clear that he is trying to hide his anxiety. Now that it has come to this¡­ how do I reveal Simon my real intentions? Even my arms begin to shake from the lack of energy. Will I even last long enough to see this through? ¡°Before you came here, Li, I did receive an interesting message from your father, and the contents of it were rather¡­¡± So father sent an order to Simon ahead of time, I¡¯m surprised our communications array did not pick up the message. It must have been encrypted in any case. ¡°¡ªI am under the impression that you are not merely stopping by to expect a warm reunion so soon. After all, as you may very well be aware, there is a Federation assault underway just a star system away¡ª¡± ¡°Simon.¡± I can¡¯t bear it any longer. This may not be the best way to go about it, but if we continue to beat around the bush like this then all of Che and his men¡¯s suffering will be for naught. There will be no point to this coup if we drag this out any longer. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to believe it myself, Li. It was a shock for me¡ªI even had a heart attack!¡± The old badger lets out a hearty laugh, but wounds up hoarsely coughing because of the smoke. ¡°And as you can see¡­ I drove here without notifying anyone else¡­¡± He gestures over to the engineers taking the last contents from one of the pallets up the shuttle ramp. ¡°It was pure chance that none of my underlings were around, or it would have caused a nightmarish revolt. Those guys over there¡ªthey don¡¯t know what you¡¯re up to Li. That¡¯s why they can work without a care in the world. ¡°But Li¡­¡± He doesn¡¯t flick the cigarette into the ashtray. Instead, he flicks it outward, and it lands a few meters from us. A faint trail of smoke rises from its remains. ¡°If you were not so lucky¡­ you are aware of what might occur otherwise?¡± Simon pushes himself away from the automobile and walks in front of me. ¡°There are those who view you as a threat to their rising influence¡ªand if shecaught wind of your detour here, they would¡¯ve whipped up quite a mobilization to see to it that you are eliminated. This whole place here¡ªempty, is it not? Had she been informed, it would¡¯ve been quite a fortress. Armored cars, elite infantry, you name it. You can bet that you would have experienced difficulties even entering the landing zone, well, no¡­ I wouldn¡¯t go that far, but I imagine you would be immediately detained the moment those ramps dropped. ¡°Li¡­ ¡°You signed your death warrant with this maneuver.¡± I¡¯m speechless. Utterly speechless. He places hands on my shoulders. ¡°¡­Or it would suffice to say you almost signed your warrant. For the time being. I do not know what the future entails; she will want to know why I suddenly shipped away a load of supplies to the dockyard.¡± ¡°By her, you mean¡­?¡± ¡°The other madame¡­ ¡°Kamon Hwang.¡± ¡°¡­!¡± My father¡¯s legal wife. She was the original governor of Brunsb¨¹ttel before our occupation of the region. She is more or less responsible for the peaceful transfer of power to Simon and father back then, and entered an intimate relationship with theDon¡ª I will not understand what she sees in that monstrosity¡­ ¡°Kamon, huh¡­ I take it she has been at her post at the¡­ what was it called again¡­ the intelligence agency?¡± Even before the departure from L¨¹beck I never see the woman most days; and the few times we do interact is a brief exchange of words at father¡¯s banquets. She is almost always cooped up in that compound of hers, always spewing some mature proverbs about keeping mindful ears on Federation activity. ¡°As fate would have it, she happened to be¡­ off the clock when Zhui¡¯s message came. But don¡¯t think you¡¯re off the hook just yet. Once she does catch wind of the message¡ª and she will, no relayed messages will ever get past her¡ªyou will be at grave danger, Li. I will do what I can when that time comes, and I¡¯ll no doubt be interrogated about what transpired here. Nothing gets past her.¡± ¡°Then, it is all the more reason to¡ª!¡± I start, but Simon tightens his grip on me. ¡°For your own sake, do not finish that sentence, Li. What exactly do you expect to happen if you went through with¡­ seizing the government for yourself? Did you intend to be romantic and sue for peace with the Federation, before the fighting brings the republic to collapse? Do you think Kamon will simply sit by and let you undo years of hard work? How do you intend to hold off the men loyal to her while you wait for the Federation to come to the rescue? How do you know if they will even assist you at all? ¡°Li¡­¡± Frankly, I never factored in Kamon at all. I¡¯ve been so focused on Simon that I forgot all about the older madame. Considering she is always spying on Federation intelligence, I never imagined she''d have the influence to mobilize father''s men as Simon described. I look down at my trembling legs. Was this all for vain? Did I cross the threshold without realizing what my consequences were? Did I get too¡­ ambitious? Even if I did eliminate Simon¡ªor I persuaded Simon to join me, I¡ªor we¡ªwould still have to confront Kamon¡­ which means blood being spilled for what? ¡°We¡¯re criminals, Li. We¡¯re thugs on the wrong side of history. Do you truly think in your best interest anybody will be able to walk free out of this? There doesn¡¯t exist a peaceful life for us, Li! It will always be a death sentence¡ªand I would not want that to happen to you¡ªbut I¡¯ve come to accept the sins I¡¯ve committed throughout the years.¡± I look back up at Simon. He¡¯s not angry with me, but rather¡­ sad. ¡°I suppose¡­ at the end of the day, I have no choice but to fight the Federation,¡± I say emptily. I feel so drained I could just faint into Simon¡¯s arms. ¡°You had a noble cause, Li¡­ but¡­¡± Simon trails off. He brings me closer to him in an embrace¡ªbut to my surprise, his clothes feel a little less than dry. ¡°Simon¡­ you¡¯re awfully¡­¡± ¡°¡ªWet? Yes¡­ some of my dimwit hooligans set off fire alarms earlier. I never had the chance to even change clothes.¡± ¡°I could tell from the mountainous ashtray.¡± The two of us laugh weakly. ¡°Li¡­ for what it¡¯s worth, I would¡¯ve tried the same thing in your shoes. If I was still your age and had that flamboyance from back then. I would¡¯ve taken the chances and headbutt with Kamon¡¯s forces. But once you get to my age, you start to become adullard.¡± ? ¡°Simon¡­ I just want to know¡­ even not factoring in Kamon¡­ would you still join me in a coup?¡± Simon is silent for a very long time. He looks into the distance at the MAPPA shuttles behind me. ¡°Li¡­ I think it¡¯s time for you to head back to the fleet. You have no choice but to fight.¡± ¡°But, Simon¡­!¡± ¡°There are no buts, Li. I want you out as soon as you can. I can¡¯t guarantee your safety if you stay any longer. There¡¯s really no telling if Kamon will send men after you. I have a hard time ever reading her most of the time.¡± ¡°Simon¡­ please, won¡¯t you come with me?¡± ¡°You know I can¡¯t do that, Li. I have to stay here. And besides, at my age it would be detrimental to my health to go through consecutive jumps¡ªyou need to quickly get to Valspon and back to Velksland, correct? Just look at you¡ªyou look paler than a ghost. You must be completely exhausted.¡± ¡°So you could tell, huh¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s all the more reason not to go through with this. I imagine your men are no better condition than you are. And you expect to take on a battalion¡¯s worth of Zhui¡¯s best men plus armored support? Li, by the time fighting even ends, the Federation would be knocking at our doorstep!¡± ¡°That¡¯s true, but¡­¡± I trail off unable to think of anything. My mind wants to argue and yet I can¡¯t come to terms that I¡¯m simply in the wrong. ¡°Return to the fleet and get a few hours of rest, Li¡­ the coming battle and force march will surely take a greater toll on your health¡ªand your men.¡± Simon places a hand on my back and gently guides me in the direction of theMAPPA-1. My feet move on their own, and the pressed hand on my back disappears. I almost feel wobbly now. ¡°¡­Do you think you will be okay, Li?¡± ¡°I think¡­ I will be fine. I just need to lie down and rest for a while, as you suggested¡­ and I¡¯ve already allowed the men to rest in shifts.¡± ? Simon nods in acknowledgment. ¡°Goodbye, Li, until we meet again. Take care, come back to me in one piece. It wouldn¡¯t do my heart good if I was informed of your passing.¡± ? ¡°Fare we¡ªGoodbye¡­ Simon.¡± I try with all my strength to not choke on the words. A part of me wants to leap forward and give him one last embrace before I depart. But I must use what energy I have to make my way back to the MAPPA-1. ? I glance back at Simon one last time. He has opened his car door and waves back at me with a meager smile. ? Sergi meets me partway on the ramp and looks back at Simon proceeding to back up and drive away. ¡°Madame¡­?¡± ? ¡°It can¡¯t be helped, Sergi. We have no choice but to fight the Federation.¡± I say weakly and cling to him with what remains of my strength. ¡°It was all for¡­¡± ? ¡°Don¡¯t say that, Madame, in the worst case you could be dead by now. If there¡¯s nothing else to do here then let¡¯s head back to the fleet.¡± ? ¡°I¡­¡± ¡°¡ªDon¡¯t say any more, Li¡­ I¡¯ll strap you into your seat, so just relax. I¡¯ll give the order to return to the fleet.¡± I find myself increasingly in a haze, unable to make out most movements of others. Sergi sets me down, and I feel the harnesses fasten me into the seat. There are a few murmurers and collective sighs as Sergi makes his way to the cockpit to relay orders to the pilots. It can¡¯t be helped¡­ those words echo in my mind repeatedly. Chapter 27: Memories of Toscana | Deliberations at L眉beck Part 3 When I regain consciousness, I feel gentle slaps on my cheek. Each paddling of the cheek stings a bit from the scar tissue. The sensation of low-intensity pain gradually gives me life. Whoever is doing this must be exceptionally bold, or incredibly stupid. ¡°Madame¡­¡ªMadame¡­..¡ªMadame¡­!¡± The sound of someone calling out to me. I open my eyes and see a distorted figure standing over me. ¡°Nghh¡­!¡± I shield my scarred face to prevent any more of these unnecessary slaps, and the figure sighs in relief. ¡°Oh¡­!¡± They gasp in surprise. My hearing has gradually come back, and it seems as though it was rather feminine. Olga? Craning my neck up, I could tell that this colossal being is indeed Olga. She looks surprised all right. If I had to guess, she must still be intoxicated. ¡°Did I hurt you, Madame?¡± She asks worryingly. ¡°No¡­ I am fine. The pain jolted me awake. Are we back on the Castelforte?¡± Looking around, Olga and I are the only ones present in the MAPPA-1. It seems even the pilots are gone. ¡°Yes, you arrived not too long ago. I stopped by as soon as I was notified. Sergi informed me you had passed out from exhaustion, then went on ahead to the bridge.¡± ¡°I¡­ see.¡± ¡°¡­Are you all right, Madame? To pass out right after a coup¡­ ¡°What exactly happened at the Brunsb¨¹ttel?¡± I take a few minutes explaining to Olga my discussions with Simon, and how I failed to take into consideration the influence of Kamon Hwang, the legal wife of Dong Zhui. More importantly, how we narrowly avoided a bloodbath had Simon not been the right person at the right time. ¡°Madame Hwang, huh¡­¡± Olga muses as she slides into the seat next to me and shifts into a thinking posture, ¡°I never would have considered the possibility that she is a threat, myself. Leave it to no one but master Simon to showcase brilliant intrigue. I suppose this coup d''etat was doomed from the start¡­¡± Olga chuckles lightly. ¡°I am grateful to Simon for releasing you without sparking an incident, I don¡¯t know what I would¡¯ve done, Madame¡­¡± Olga leans into me and rests her head on my shoulder. ¡°Simon remarked there will be unforeseen consequences once this Federation threat is over. I fear this is the beginning of the end for me, Olga.¡± Olga places a hand on top of my own and gives it a squeeze. ¡°Whatever happens, I will be with you to the very end, Madame.¡± Olga remarks sheepishly¡ªis she still intoxicated after all this time?! ¡°Don¡¯t make me emotional, Olga¡­¡± ¡°I could very well say the same to you.¡± She replies with a small chuckle. We sit there, alone, in silent bliss for what seems like forever. But we are soon interrupted by a knock at the ramp door. Turning my head, I can make out the gruff-looking Sergi. ¡°I see you have woken up, Madame. The men on the bridge are inquiring when you want the fleet to set out for Valspon.¡± I can¡¯t help but heave a sigh. ¡°They are that eager to be let loose on the Federation, I take it¡­¡± Having a bloodthirsty crew can be rather troublesome. I suppose I understand their sentiment; our flesh and blood are being cut down without remorse as we speak, and here I am thinking I can take the easy way out; that is to spare any more bloodshed being spilled. At the end of the day, there is no choice but to give in their warmongering instincts. Fate just has more things in mind for me. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Inform the fleet I will permit two more hours of rest¡­ perhaps three. After that, prepare all hands for battle stations and proceed to the Valspon hyper lane at cruise speed.¡± ¡°Yes, Madame¡ª Oh, before I forget¡­¡± ¡°Hmm?¡± ¡°It seems Simon has sent a gift to you¡­ the possession of the Taiga battleship and a few of its escorts.¡± The name makes me wince. How many years has it been since Sergi and I have stormed that dreaded thing? The source of those everlasting resentful dreams? ¡°Do you wish to transfer your command over to the Taiga? Unless you had someone else in mind.¡± ¡°I believe either you or Olga can take command of it. I will stay here on theCastelforte.¡± ¡°Actually, I will take command of my ship, the Hugh. So¡­¡± Sergi adds quickly. ¡°Then I suppose it is settled, Olga¡ªI don¡¯t mean to cut our reunion short, but could you make your way to the Taiga as soon as you can?¡± Olga grumbles under her breath but does not otherwise protest her assignment. ¡°If that is what you wish, Madame, then I¡¯ll hurry over to it.¡± If I believed my ears just now, it sounded like Olga was a little bitter. Olga gets up and exits the shuttle¡ªbut not before bumping shoulders with Sergi, nearly knocking him over. ¡°¡­I never imagined you would upset Olga, you, of all people.¡± ¡°What do you mean, Sergi?¡± He only gives me a blank look and laughs it off. ¡°Think nothing of it, Li, you¡¯re still an innocent maiden at heart.¡± And before I can even think about asking¡ªthe man departs, leaving me alone in the darkly lit passenger cabin. With a moment to myself I think about everything that has transpired up until now. The coup has backfired, and the only thing left to do now is fight. I suppose it is better than an armed struggle, and Simon was right; even if by chance I did seize the capital and fight off Kamon¡¯s forces, there¡¯s no telling I would be able to even get amnesty from the Federation forces. Simon truly is a force to be reckoned with. ¡°Well then¡­¡± I heave myself up and dust off my poncho in the process, and use one of the chairs as support in light of the sudden lightheartedness. It wouldn¡¯t hurt to see Olga off and apologize for whatever it is that I did to upset her. Maybe ordering her to go on the Taiga was a bad idea after all? Olga was standing outside of a nearby shuttle, getting a few of her adjutants to go along with her. ¡°Olga!¡± I call out to her, and she turns with a rather serious face¡ªbut it softens when she notices me. ¡°Ah, Madame¡­ah?!¡± I throw myself at Olga into a tight embrace. Her arms wrap around me as well. ¡°¡­I didn¡¯t upset you earlier, did I?¡± I mumble after a few moments of silence. ¡°Perish the thought, Madame¡ª I was just slightly upset that I wasn¡¯t sober enough to cherish the moment.¡± ¡°You make up the wildest of excuses¡­¡± But deep down, I¡¯m relieved it wasn¡¯t directed at me. I can¡¯t stand the thought of Olga being upset with me. She strokes the back of my hair, ¡°it is no excuse, Madame, I have no reason to hide anything from you.¡± Olga beams with a smile as she steps onto the shuttle¡¯s ramp door away from me. ¡°Don¡¯t give me that look, it¡¯s not like this is the last time we¡¯ll ever see each other¡ªwe¡¯ll still have to keep in touch¡­ how else are you going to give orders to the fleet?¡± She says with a laugh. Keep in touch¡­ a little bit of relief from those words. I catch one last glimpse of the blonde amazon as the shuttle door seals tight behind her. I take a few steps back as the shuttle fires up its engines and departs the hanger for the Taiga. ¡°Take care, Olga¡­¡± And with that, I spin around and head for the bridge. Our deliberations here at L¨¹beck have finally come to pass. No more hesitations; in a few hours¡¯ our fleet will set sail for the relief of Valspon¡ªand with it, the confrontation with the Federation force. Chapter 28: Memories of Toscana | Sleeping Beauty It was that dream again. The dream with the beach¡ªthe wildly handsome, not-so-nerdy looking Paul running up to me. That goofy over-dramatic bow and the unusually fancy speech Paul gave¡ªit was all near identical as the first experience. Only this time, it felt more realistic¡ªFriederika would chalk it up to being surreal ¡ªno, not surreal¡­ uncanny, I would say is more appropriate. When the inferno engulfed the two of us¡­ the fiery sensation of a thousand degrees were melting my flesh¡ªthe pain was real. But unlike before, something else happened; rather than crumble to bone and ashes, Paul horrifically shifted into that haggard pirate guy¡ªthe one who killed himself at the entrance of Side Malabo¡­ bulging eyes and that fearsome perked mouth¡ªthe man¡¯s physique gradually deforms into a demonic being born of nightmare fuel that defies any description possible in the realms of reality. Its ugly lips of which is the only humane part left, twists and turns with the bellowing of each syllable it produces that which resonates into the great deep void¡ª ¡°BURN IN HELL, FEDERATION SCUM!¡± The utterance turns into a cascade of voices that morph and screech on top of each other¡ªa chorus of indistinguishable languages capable of shattering eardrums. But even if I were to hypothetically cover my ears, it would not stop. The continuous loop of demonic screaming would go on for infinity. And then pitch darkness envelops me. There are no longer any sandy beaches, or Paul, or the creepy old man, or anything. There was just¡­ nothing. The nothing that encompasses me is entirely pitch black. There is no such thing as turning my head to get my bearing¡ªeven the inability to even look around from my eye sockets. Just¡­nothing. I always heard that our brains tend to play cruel tricks on us in near-death experiences¡­ but this, this is¡­ Near-death experience¡­ I couldn¡¯t be dead this time, could I? If that were the case, I would be incapable of thought, is that how it is? Maybe¡­ perhaps, I am in a coma? But the idea of being a burden to my family at such a young tender age¡­ to have my parents and Friederika visit me daily, tearfully telling me about their mundane lives, how much they miss me¡­ even Friederika nonchalantly talking about a breakup with her umpteenth boyfriend¡­ various forms of cope. The powerless ability¡ªthe inability of the hospital staff to work magic¡­ to help your loved one, and the inability to let me pass on. The very thought is depressing. I would never want to be dead weight to them. The hospital bills required to¡ª Hmmm? For some reason, I hear vibrant sounds. If I listen closely, the sounds resemble that of a vicious feral rodent. It¡¯s like trying to pet a cute wild animal and it snarls at you like the rabid beast it is. But something about this is different. Usually, the animal in question would run away most likely, and you would never have to hear that dreadful sound ever again. The snarls are nearly constant; there¡¯s a lapse of silence, and then it starts again for at least a few seconds. It¡¯s almost as if the vile beast refuses to give up its territory. Well¡­ to be fair, it¡¯s not all that uncommon for feral rodents to stand their ground. ¡­Honesty, it¡¯s getting kind of grating. It is starting to induce a headache. And there¡¯s nothing worse than getting a banging migraine. Wait a minute, headache-inducing? Come to think of it, I never felt like I, well, felt anything either. The next thing I know I¡¯m staring at pure whiteness¡­ Heaven? No¡­ it¡¯d be more sunshine and stuff, right? Clouds and angelic beings with harps¡­ At first, I was seeing cross-eyed. My field of vision is so hazy that I was starting to see double lines of the ti¡ª Wait a minute, I¡¯m not dead. And this isn¡¯t heaven either. That¡¯s a ceiling. That¡¯s the tiled ceiling of the medical bay! I would know since I was a frequent patient from getting space sickness adapting to life aboard the Yilan. And if we¡¯re on the Yilan, then that probably means we didn¡¯t suffer too much damage. But that aside, I must have been placed in one of the beds since I am snugly secured under one blanket too many. And using my lower body as a makeshift pillow is a certain dark-haired woman who I have the unfortunate luck of spending almost my entire life with. She has one of those snot bubbles you often see in cartoons that inflates and deflates in perfect rhythm with her breathing. Is that drool, too? For the love of¡­ SNUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH¡ª Well, at least now I know it wasn¡¯t a feral rodent challenging me to a life and death situation. SNUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHH¡ª Not that I¡¯m the one to wonder why a feral animal would think an unconscious person is threatening it in the first place. It was merely Friederika snoring out the wazoo. I¡¯m surprised I didn¡¯t recognize her utterly obnoxious snoring sooner; I never liked sleeping over at Friederika¡¯s because she and her dad make it completely impossible to get a night¡¯s sleep. I¡¯ll never understand how her mom and her siblings can sleep through that. And whenever she sleeps over at our place, my dad always gets held back by mom when he gets fed up and tries to throw the still-snoozing Friederika out into middle the cold unforgiving pavement. Did I mention she¡¯s a completely heavy sleeper? Seriously though, this snoring is giving me a migraine that pounds repeatedly on my temples. ¡°Oi, Kiki¡­¡± I give her a gentle shake. SNUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH¡ª For crying out loud, Friederika¡­ ¡°Oi, KIKI!¡± It¡¯s a more violent shake this time¡ªand finally, the snoring is cut short by confused Friederika noises. ¡°A¡­wuh¡­ oh!¡± The snot bubble pops. Friederika¡¯s eyes widen in surprise and her mouth makes an O shape. She lets out an annoying, exaggerated yawn reminiscent of a dying cat, and rubs of her eyes. ¡°Sleeping beauty is finally awake, huh? Maybe You didn¡¯t need my prince charming kiss after all. Mwuahhh~¡± She leans in, eyes closed and puckered lips, but I only give her a faceful of my palm¡ªand feel the grossest thing ever. Snot, ugh. ¡°Maybe in the next life, sweetheart¡ªactually, no maybe in about ten thousand years from now after you cultivate the souls of enough boyfriends.¡± Friederika looks at me with a bewildered look and a cocked head. ¡°Excuse me?¡± ¡°Sorry, maybe if you read enough books you might know what that might mean,¡± I say pushing up the nonexistent glasses that do not reside on my nose, briefly ignoring the fact that I kinda just smudged some of Friederika¡¯s wet snot on myself. Ugh. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. We share a few chuckles, but it feels a bit forced this time, not at all like our usual cackles of laughter. Friederika is probably still groggy to get into her usual routine, and me, well¡­ ¡°So give it to me straight, Kiki¡­ how long was I out for? What even happened?¡± I pull the blanket off to the side and shift my legs to the sides of the bed. They were numb at first no thanks to Friederika¡¯s fatness, but I can wiggle my toes at least. ¡°Welllll¡­ ummm¡­?¡± Friederika shrugs her shoulders while playfully twiddling with her thumbs. ¡°Well, it was like, a little after 1900 hours, and now it¡¯s kinda¡­ uhhh¡­0700?¡± Putting the dots together that¡¯s about¡­ ¡°Eleven hours?! What?! ¡± I nearly scream in surprise. And without letting Friederika have a chance a speak, I quickly rollback my undershirt¡¯s right sleeve to confirm the time for myself with the silver watch my father gav¡ª It¡¯s not there. ¡°Huh?¡± I roll back my left arm¡¯s sleeve; no dice. There is only my milky skin. ¡°My dad¡¯s watch¡­¡± I trail off with a cracked voice. Someone must¡¯ve slipped it off when they gathered the dead and injured after that suicide fire ship. I¡¯ll have to keep a mental note of sending a formal complaint to the military police about this when Lucky Alphonse ends¡ªthat was a gift from my father, dammit! Unbelievable. I never bought into the belief that medics might steal belongings off the dead or unconscious, at least not until now. So much for comradeship. ¡°Ah¡­ if you¡¯re looking for your wristwatch, I think Lieutenant Plotte took it for safekeeping?¡± Friederika hands me my blue jacket and belt and watches as I put them on in silence. If Pluto has the wristwatch, then that¡¯s not too bad. I¡¯ll just have to pry it from him later. Speaking of our superiors¡­ Since so much time has passed I imagine the Malabo has long fallen by now. Or perhaps the pirate fleet withdrew? ¡°Thanks for waiting, Kiki, let¡¯s get going¡ªyou mind filling me in on what happened while I was busy having nightmare fuel confronting a demon?¡± Friederika looks a bit perturbed and I can¡¯t say I blame her¡ªshe doesn¡¯t know the half of it of that bizarre fever dream that I went through. And frankly, it¡¯s better that way, wouldn¡¯t want Friederika to wet her bed now, would I? ¡°¡­Are you sure you don¡¯t want to rest a little more? You bumped your head pretty hard when the lieutenant tackled you down. I¡­ was even worried sick that you would never wake up. He was worried sick too, you know. If Paul ever found out what happened to you¡­¡± ¡°Kiki¡­ were you there with me¡­ the whole time?¡± I rub the back of my head for some confirmation¡ªand sure enough, I feel a small bump sticking out. If I press down even lightly on the bump it resonates sharp pain. That must have been one rough tackle. I wouldn¡¯t blame Friederika for thinking the concussion would be severe, or I guess it was severe when you think about it. Eleven hours is a pretty long time if you ask me. ¡°Well¡­ yes, but no¡­ I mean¡­ I had to use the restroom and grab some snacks in between the lieutenant dragging me out every so often for some duties, but eventually, he gave up on dragging me away from your bedside and didn¡¯t send anyone to fetch me anymore¡­ just so he can grant my wish¡ªto¡­ remain by your side.¡± Friederika says in a voice that gets quieter with each word, she rubs her neck rather anxiously with averted eyes. I¡­ wait, what? For some reason, it doesn¡¯t click for me at first. But after the blood rushes into my cheeks, and the sensation of my chest tightening with embarrassment, it¡¯s just like, oh. When we were younger Paul used to read those gross romance comic books and a lot of the time the protagonists in those are completely oblivious to others like how can you be this dumb and still live? kind of unawareness. And for some reason, it¡¯s like I¡¯m in one of those situations even now. ¡°Wow, Kiki¡­ if I was a dude, I¡¯d propose marriage right here and now.¡± I muse with such casualness that it¡¯s hard to believe those words even came out from my mouth. ¡°Ahh ¡ªhahhaaa, right, um¡­ anyway!¡± Friederika nonchalantly slaps me on the shoulder and tries to cover her glowing red face. We were already out in the hallway standing on the floor conveyors, and thankfully there did not seem to be a person at sight; which seems like a given¡ªI imagine we are still on either general stations or battle stations right now. Nobody can afford to be casually about right now. ¡°¡ªAfter that shuttle exploded, the pirate fleet broke out and headed for the Cluster capital, Side¡­ Baltit I think it was called¡­ and then the commodore had to waste time and secure Side Malabo with marine battalions we scrounged together. Um¡­ ¡°That ended up costing us too much time or so. From what Lieutenant Plotte told me some of Commander Buttermilch¡¯s adjutants were getting real impatient about the whole ordeal. When I was on the way back from the restroom one time, I happened to overhear some of the same general staff voicing their concerns that seizing Side Baltitwill take up even more time, which means¡­¡± I think I¡¯ve heard enough to know where this is going. ¡°Who did they voice their concerns to, do you know?¡± I inquire while cutting off Friederika, though she doesn¡¯t pay it any mind. If I had to guess, though, either our XO or CO were the ones receiving the complaints. ¡°I don¡¯t think this will come to much surprise to you, but they talked to Buttermil¡ª¡± ¡°Do you know the last time you saw Commander Buttermilch or heard where he might be now?¡± I cut off Friederika again, this time with a more forceful tone. I can¡¯t risk Buttermilch putting our plan in jeopardy. He told me he¡¯d do whatever he can to influence commodore Chal¡¯s plans. But if that influence is in turn influenced by others¡­ I can¡¯t let everything go to vain ¡ªour war games, everything¡ª like this. ¡°Ummm¡­ hmmm, good question, actually. He should be at the bridge, and if he isn¡¯t there¡­ hmmm, I think he and the XO were heading off to commodore Chal¡¯s¡ª Victoria?!¡± That¡¯s it. That¡¯s all I need to know. I jump off the conveyor onto the still surface and sprint at full speed. The surprised Friederika noises grow too faint to be grating my ears anymore. I can¡¯t afford to have Buttermilch be swayed by fools who want to rush things. So what if the operation takes a slow pace? Even if a relief force¡ªeven if thatMadame Scarface enters the fray¡ªwe need to stay as one, and ensure that OperationLucky Alphonse doesn¡¯t go down in the history books as Unlucky Alphonse! I don¡¯t care if I get thrown in the brig for insubordination anymore¡ª it won¡¯t matter if we¡¯re all dead! For fame and glory, my ass¡­ Buttermilch!!! Don¡¯t lose sight now! Chapter 29: Memories of Toscana | Where in the World is Buttermilch? I search everywhere with no avail. Places where I would expect him to be¡ªlike planning rooms¡ªcome up short with the man. Whoever might be unlikely to be in my vicinity I nearly grab by the collar, regardless of their rank, and beg to know where the XO or CO is. Yes, this could land me in trouble, and I¡¯ve had my fair share of officers giving me piercing eyes and annoyed grunts. ¡°No, ensign, I do not know where Commander Buttermilch is now.¡± Everyone I came across would wound up getting agitated by my careless actions, and it wouldn¡¯t surprise me if someone got fed up and ordered military police to toss me in a cell and toss the key somewhere. Technically, I should be in a brig by now¡ªbut it¡¯s because of Buttermilch letting it slide that I¡¯m running around amok. The adrenaline rush can only get me so far. I¡¯ve torn this side of the Yilan inside out looking for him, like a young child frantically searching for something important at the last second before they leave the house, and then they end up missing the bus and cry themselves to sleep because of their own mistake. Yeah, I¡¯ve had that happen to me before, it¡¯s not fun being made fun of by Friederika the day after. There were times where she said she got too lonely without me being at school with her. Friederika is the kind of gal that will literally just shrivel up and die if I¡¯m not around to entertain her¡ªperhaps that¡¯s why she joined the force with me so we wouldn¡¯t be separated. The entrance to restrooms¡ªnope¡ªthe Buttermilch isn¡¯t there. Even coming up panting to the bridge-room, I frantically look around for him with no avail. I did decide not to annoy the engineers, though, who were toiling away repairing the spots where the shrapnel ripped through the vulnerable windows and walls¡­ The scent of decaying bodies still lingers, and memories of dying cries fill my head¡­ and I shake my head as hard as I could to wash away the thoughts. Just then a large hand weighs on my shoulder. ¡°Wuhh¡­.!¡± I cry out and spin around to see who it was¡ªit¡¯s none other than the lieutenant; Paul¡¯s older brother Prince. His meek smile tells me he is relieved I managed to wake up from my sleeping beauty nap. Well, I say nap, but¡­ ¡°Good morning princess. I keep getting complaints from some of my colleagues that you¡¯re being too insubordinate¡­¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah, I¡¯m sorry Pluto, do you know where the commander or the XO is?¡± I ask cutting him off¡­ not exactly something you want to do against a superior officer,but I don¡¯t care. I¡¯ll suffer the consequences later¡ª if there ever is one! One of Prince¡¯s eyes twitches violently, and he tightens his grip. ¡°Why, yes, ensign Happ-Schwarzen berger , I do happen to know where they both went. They were all here a while ago, getting ready to assemble before departing for the shuttle bay.¡± Prince heaves a sigh as he produces a shiny silver wristwatch from his back pocket, which I delightfully snatch away from him and back on my right wrist. ¡°You¡¯re welcome¡ªanyway if you hope to catch him you better hurry. Though I wouldn¡¯t have the slightest clue what you would want from him that would warrant giving all our staff officers suplexes across the rooms and making everyone curse your family name. Do you know have any idea how much trouble you¡¯ll be causing your father back hom¡ª¡± ¡°Okay, bye!¡± With newfound adrenaline, I give a halfhearted wave to Prince as I tactfully withdrawal from the bridge room amid his disapproving expression. When I think about it, though, Prince might be expressing the truth¡­ maybe I am overreacting about this? I have faith Buttermilch will not be undeterred by idiots wanting to change course for the worst¡ªdid they learn nothing from the war game campaign Friederika and I did? I mean¡­ I did only win a few out of the bunch that we did, but still¡­ My sprint slows into a jog¡ªthen a fast walk and then baby steps. Looking out the window I take in the sight of several shuttle crafts already leaving the entrances of the shuttle hub silos. I can feel my heart sink in discouragement, and the floodgates of negative thoughts pour into my mind¡ªwhich causes my head to also ring with pain from the bump injury. What would I even do if I caught up to Commander Buttermilch? What would I even say? Don¡¯t be discouraged by the naysayers and remember what I begged you to do, for the sake of thousands of men and women? At the end of the day¡­ I¡¯m hardly above the ranks of cadet, fresh out of academy with no practical experience, only theoretical stuff from armchair admirals of years past. There are way better officers in our chain of command¡­ and if they gave Buttermilch a piece of their advice it wouldn¡¯t be too logical to think he would agree with them. Maybe it was foolish to think that some literal-who officer like me is capable of¡ª ¡°Ensign Happ-Schwarzenberger?¡± The questioning tone of a middle-aged man from behind nearly gives me a heart attack. Reeling around¡­ it was none other than Commander Buttermilch. ¡°C-C¡ªCommander Buttermilch? You aren¡¯t on the s-shutt-shuttle yet?¡± My brain is so scrambled that it¡¯s impossible to get coherent sentences out. He¡¯s by himself, and looking past him can guess that his immediate staff group probably went on ahead without him along with Mazzareli. ¡°I was retired to my office to recollect my thoughts for the time being¡­ before long I heard a lot of ruckus about a blonde cadet officer tossing men around and surmised you had woken up by now. So I left to investigate, and your friend Sub-Lieutenant Trachenberg told me you were rampaging looking for me.¡± Uh, oh, shit. I¡¯m in trouble, aren¡¯t I? I mean, I don¡¯t think I was doing that much collateral damage searching for Buttermilch¡­ it¡¯s kinda funny that we went in circles looking for each other, though. He doesn¡¯t show a hint of hostility; in fact, he seems relieved. ¡°It feels like a weight was lifted from my shoulders knowing you are fine and well.¡± Huh? What¡¯s this? Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. ¡°If anything had happened to you your father would never let me live another day¡ªfiguratively, of course.¡± Huh???? ¡°You¡­ are friends with my father?¡± I ask the old commander. Honestly, once my father came back from active duty he never talked too much about his experiences in the Metropolitan Naval Force and became rather reluctant to let me enlist in it too. It was only thanks to the stubbornness of my mother that he allowed me to enlist in the Metropolitan Navy. He waved his hand and chuckled light-heartily. ¡°No, no¡­ nothing like that. Well¡­ I suppose he did look out for me. Sure, we butted heads over decision making, but compared to you and¡­ your Trachenberg friend, we weren¡¯t that particularly close. However¡­¡± ¡°However¡­?¡± I echo the question to him. ¡°However¡­ when he discovered that your assignment was under me he paid me a friendly visit sometime before the Yilan launched from its land harbor in Australia. We certainly did reminiscence about the good times¡­ but he soon revealed his real intent for the visit.¡± Ah, I know where this is going now. But I can¡¯t risk cutting him off like I usually do. ¡°¡ª¡¯I may not be able to join now, but so god help you if anything happens to my daughter. You will see to me that she comes home safely.¡¯¡± Buttermilch¡¯s speech pattern is monotone and with a mimicking pronunciation that certainly does remind me of my father¡¯s amusing accent¡ªI mean, I kind of have it too, but¡­ ¡°That¡¯s kind of an eerily thought, don¡¯t you think? I mean, I know my father was fiercely protective of me around guys my age, but¡­¡± I muse nonchalantly all the while rubbing the back of my head in embarrassment. First Prince and now Buttermilch. Does everyone think I am a liability to this operation or something? I don¡¯t think my father is THAT big of a deal in the military¡­ ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯ve gotten a bit off track, and I¡¯m sure Commodore Chal is wondering why I am not in his presence yet¡­¡± ¡°Commander Buttermilch, if I may have permission to speak,¡± I said I wouldn¡¯t cut off Buttermilch of all people, but I did it anyway. I don¡¯t care if he personally chucks me into space at this point. But I¡¯m still a little tense about it, though. Just a bit. A tiny bit. Buttermilch gives me a slightly disapproving look at the fact that I rudely cut him off and gestures for me to speak. ¡°Frieder¡ªSub-Lieutenant Trachenberg told me some of your adjutants were giving you an earful of the duration it might take to seize Side Baltit. And that got me a little antsy about the talk we had before the operation started¡­¡± I clench my fists as tightly as I could ¡°¡ªI was honestly worried sick that you were going to betray my trust and¡­ give in to their suggestions instead, and encourage Commander Chal to split off the besieging fleet and head for the L¨¹beck star zone instead¡­ therefore exposing us to a counterattack by¡­ the Madame Scarface, or something of that nature¡­ er¡­¡± my words trails off just as fast as my confidence does. ¡ªButtermilch just roars with laughter. ¡°H-huh¡­?¡± I stammer in confusion. ¡°Is that what this wanton rampage is all about, Ensign Happ? My¡­ you truly are Vincent¡¯s daughter!¡± He pats me on the shoulder with such enthusiasm that it feels like my shoulder blade will shatter any moment. I¡¯m a fragile girl, you know! Bloody hell this guy¡­ ¡°I believe our miss sub-lieutenant friend must have heard wrong, Happ¡ªthe adjutants complaining to me were whining about not seeing any action for themselves and were quite envious of the marines subjugating Side Malabo¡­ well, she is partially right in that they complained that our reaction time to chasing after the pirate fleet was a lost potential, though. There was a decent amount of damage¡ªas I¡¯m sure you saw the bridge by now. It was a mess after the Malabo fire ship detonated¡­¡± So it was all mostly a misunderstanding, huh¡­ I gotta tell Friederika to get the ear wax out next time. Or beat it out of her for making me cause so much trouble for Buttermilch and Prince. But still, it¡¯s a relief. ¡­Oh, wait, that actually reminds me. I never did ask about Paul at all, did I? ¡°The Hualian¡ª er¡­pardon me for interrupting, did you get any damage reports from the other ship commanders? My friend is aboard the Hualian¡­ did she get hit by it too?¡± I ask while trying to suppress my trembling. I mean, it¡¯s just Paul. It¡¯s not like I carethat much about him or anything. He won¡¯t go down so easily¡­ and neither would theHualian¡ª right?? ¡°The Hualian, huh? Hm¡­¡± he strokes his chin. ¡°Rest assured, I am positive I recall there being no significant damage reported by the Hualian. Now then, Ensign Happ, I must make my way to the shuttle.¡± We give each other perfectly synchronized salutes. He brushes past me afterward¡ªbut I tug on his wrist collar at the last second. He looks at me in surprise. ¡°Ensign¡­?¡± ¡°Commander Buttermilch¡­ please¡­ do whatever it takes to make sure we can all go home safely¡­¡± I grip tighter on his sleeve ¡°¡ªdon¡¯t let this go down in history as¡­Unlucky Alphonse.¡± The words come out as pleaful as I try to make them be. Buttermilch only gives me a sly smile. ¡°I¡¯ll do whatever I can to ensure it is not a catastrophe. Just as an extra measure I planned on showing your war-games against Friederika for Chal and his staff to see and they will think twice about any rash decision to split the fleet¡­ I want you¡ªme¡ªeveryone out of this alive just as much as you do, Happ. We¡¯ll all get through this together.¡± He reaches out with his other arm and gives me a gentle pat on the shoulder. And with that, I let go of Buttermilch¡¯s sleeve and watch him walk briskly down the hallway towards the shuttle bay. Not long after, I watch as his shuttle cruises out of the Yilanand toward Chal¡¯s flagship some distance away. My knees buckle beneath me, leaving me to collaspe against the glass window... Was it best to leave it in Buttermilch¡¯s hands? Or did I just commit the worst mistake in my life? Chapter 30: Memories of Toscana | The Decision at Baltit... Lieutenant Commander Mazzareli and Commander Buttermilch, along with the rest of the high ranking officers shuffle their way out of the docked transports in an orderly fashion. If the junior officers tagged along it would be a bit more lively, or at least Mazzareli thinks so. Aside from the aforementioned already part of Chal¡¯s ship personnel, there are almost no junior officers from any of the other ships present. This isn¡¯t necessarily a bad thing, since for Mazzareli it means not having to look after the younger folk. And that includes that rowdy ensign as well, Victoria Happ-Schwarzenberger. Though, on the other hand, part of Mazzareli wished that she had come along as well. She¡¯s a troublesome lass, and he¡¯s willing to look past her past carelessness, but she could¡¯ve been crucial to this important war council¡ªeven the others who had bore witness to her war games with the sub-lieutenant would likely think so. And speaking of which¡­ ¡°By the way, Commander Buttermilch, I take it you managed to meet up with the ensign before we left?¡± Mazzareli inquires of his superior, Buttermilch. The two of them are standing in line with the other officers, waiting for the arrival of the commodore. One of the commodore¡¯s acting commanders orders the brass to be at ease for the time being¡ªa bit too much of formality there. It¡¯s not like they are cadets anymore. Around them are officers taking smokes, enjoying a small read from their books, or conversing with one another on the impending mission briefing. Chal¡¯s ship is behind the battle lines, and there¡¯s a lull in fighting that lets them enjoy a brief moment of peacefulness. ¡°I heard she caused quite a ruckus. Was it wise to leave her at the mercy of the military police? I imagine she must be enjoying a game of cat and mouse with them right now.¡± ¡°Hmmmm¡­¡± The commander strokes his chin. ¡°She will be fine. As you know if it were up to me I would have her detained, but after you defended her regarding the security breach, it made me contemplate it some more. In the end, I told some of the police officers to be lenient with her. So she shouldn¡¯t be curled up in a ball covered in a pool of tears when we come back. It wouldn¡¯t do good for publicity if she got that kind of treatment.¡± ¡°Sounds like you¡¯re getting too soft, Kenneth. I never took you for one caring what others think of you, rather ill or not.¡± Mazzareli¡¯s small jab made Buttermilch crack a rare chuckle. ¡°You don¡¯t know Vincent as much as I do¡ªwell, not that we kept in touch after our deployments ended. He¡¯d have my head paraded around on a stick like a certain mob of revolutionaries did in ancient Eurasia if the young lass ever complained about how she was treated¡­ not that I don¡¯t think she will either way. She doesn¡¯t strike me as the kind of person who cries daddy over mundane military procedures.¡± Mazzareli¡¯s relationship with the senior Happ-Schwarzenberger is not worth bringing up, either. The two of them neither talked much beyond meetings or the odd moment of musing over alcohol or tobacco. All Mazzareli knows about Vincent is he was a bit of a maverick and he had eccentric chemistry with Buttermilch on how to get things done. ¡°Fall into formation! Face forward! Address Commodore Chal!¡± The acting officer ordered in a strict tone. At once the men snapped to attention and gave the commodore formal salutes. ¡°Thank you, commander,¡± Hugo says and proceeds to relieve him of acting duty. ¡°Do we have everyone here and accounted for?¡­ Very well then. Let¡¯s hustle on over to the strategic planning room, shall we?¡±
The room is a lot more quieter and a lot less cramped without all the junior officers. But without all the innocent cadet officers around it just means there¡¯s no need for courtesy when it comes to pulling out the cigars and similar substances. ¡°Care for a smoke?¡± A nearby officer offers one to Mazzareli, but he declines. ¡°I¡¯m far too young to partake in such. I¡¯ll wait until I¡¯m older before I start considering killing my lungs and body again.¡± Mazzareli replies dryly. He¡¯s only twenty-eight years old, but yet he has abstained from such after entering military service years back. In his early adolescence, he had spent one time too many under bridges or near gas stations poisoning his body with harmful substances for the sake of ¡®soul searching¡¯. But Mazzareli decided to clean himself up for the sake of his surviving family members and new-found purpose in life with the military. ¡°Suit yourself, then.¡± The officer withdrawals his roll of cigar from Mazzareli. Coincidentally, Mazzareli is not very popular at parties. Not that he was ever taken up offers to go to them in the first place. Lines of people were still pouring in, and the atmosphere was becoming a bit less professional like before. If everyone weren¡¯t wearing uniforms and had casual attire instead, Mazzareli would be none the wiser to know this was a military council about to take place. Perhaps the battle situation is a bit too relaxed at the moment? Before Mazzareli can wonder about it any longer, Chal claps his hands to gain everyone¡¯s attention. ¡°Now now, I know that many of you are annoyed by this sudden summon for a war council. I know. It¡¯s annoying. Believe me¡ªI don¡¯t want you all stealing my supplies of food and tobacco either. It¡¯s a few hours away from the nearest Federation depot, you know. Ahem¡­ ¡°As I¡¯m sure many of you are aware, the purpose of this meeting is to decide on how to proceed with the siege of Side Baltit. As the situation is now, an augmented battalion under Major von Putsch is holding down a parameter Side¡¯s harbor entrance and facing unusually stiff resistance.¡± The middle of the room lights up with a pale blue holographic display of the interior of the Side¡¯s harbor entrance. Several infantry symbols are in close proximity to each other, and their immediate rear consist of tiny polygonal ships representing their assault shuttles. Mazzareli finds it a bit grim because they are so close to the entrance that you could barely call this holding down the entrance parameter. Their backs are, hypothetically, to the sea. Mazzarelli has the holographic display zoom out to the Baltit as a whole, showing the fleet encircling half of the enormous cylinder space habitat. ¡°The unusual amount of time it took just to subjugate Side Malabo was a setback to operation Lucky Alphonse¡¯sinitial timetable. What was supposed to last a few hours at most cost us several hours. Indeed, many of my staff officers were openly complaining that we have lost the momentum needed for an element of surprise. ¡°My staff officers here continue to believe that by maintaining our body as one as one here, we will squander the window of opportunity needed to occupy the L¨¹beck star zone, and force the Mafia navy to stand down¡ªif not be the hammer to Admiral DeRyck¡¯s anvil at Rouen¡ªif he is even there at the moment.¡± Murmurs and quiet objections fill the room afterward. ¡°¡ªSo much time has passed and there have been no signs of a Mafia relief force, no?¡± One inquires thoughtfully. ¡°¡ªIs it safe to say that there would be no counterattack from L¨¹beck?¡± Another quip from the peanut gallery. Gradually, Chal attempts to answer them as best as he can, but he gets constantly interrupted by other subordinates. Some of them were even confronting Chal¡¯s staff officers about their opinions. Amid the chaos, a junior officer enters the room with a cart tray containing various snacks, and Mazzarelli is distracted enough for a moment to grab a small bag of synthetic jerky. Sampling a few from the finely crafted bag, Mazzareli finds the jerky to be inexplicably tough to chew and has virtually no texture to speak of, but it adds to the tasteless enjoyment of a war council practicing freedom of speech at it¡¯s finest. ¡°¡ªCommodore Chal, are we reasoned to believe you are inclined to send detachments ahead from the main body to L¨¹beck?¡± It was Lieutenant Commander Buttermilch this time throwing his hat into the ring. ¡°By doing so, we reduce our total firepower capacity and subscribe to the idea of divide and conquer, lest a relief force comes¡ªno matter its size. ¡°Although dividing our force may be beneficial at first, there is no telling that the L¨¹beck colonies will surrender without a fight. And by that point our supply lines will be stretched to the limit¡ªwe may not be able to ferry supplies to L¨¹beck in the event of a counter-attack.¡± A round of agreement fills the room. ¡°A few hours before the operation started, I had two of my¡­¡± Buttermilch trails off for a split second, ¡°talented junior officers express a¡­¡± another pause again as Buttermilch frowns in deep thought ¡° discontent view of the operation, and showcased a war game simulation modeled afterLucky Alphonse.¡± Mazzareli was a bit surprised that the commander omitted details about it being a breach of security since it was done without either of their authorizations, but surmised it would work against his favor. ¡°And the results of it were?¡± Chal leans into his chair with hands clasped under his chin. Buttermilch produces a disk from his chest pouch and gestures for an adjutant to insert it into the table¡¯s holographic system. ¡°See for yourself.¡± After the adjutant selects the appropriate options, the men in the strategic planning room all observe in silence as a play-by-play of Victoria¡¯s defiant stance against the looming threat of Friederika begins.
After the end of the war game simulation, the audience breaks out into murmurs. Chal looks impressed, and he stands up from his seat. Buttermilch also stands up and retrieves the disk from the adjutant. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. ¡°Impressive, most impressive Commander Buttermilch. I had no idea you had such capable officers under your leadership¡ªperhaps one day we can retire without worry knowing they are leading fleets of their own, though I detest the day the Federation will need to mobilize for war.¡± ¡°Thank you, commodore. I will let them know that you complimented them, I¡¯m sure they will be happy to hear it.¡± Buttermilch says with a little bit of relief. ¡°May I ask who they were? The ones that participated in this simulation.¡± Chal asks as he reaches for the cart tray for a box of cigars to light. When Mazzarelli gazes back at Buttermilch, he notices Buttermilch seems a bit reluctant to answer. If he reveals their ranks, it could cause Chal to take the simulation less seriously, or so Mazzareli thinks. ¡°En¡­¡± Buttermilch bites on his tongue. ¡°En?¡± Chal echos as he flicks his lighter, and the tip of the cigar burns red. ¡°Ensign Victoria Happ-Schwarzenberger was playing as the pirate force, and Sub-Lieutenant Friederika Trachenberg was commanding the simulated Federation force.¡± Buttermilch says with a heave of a sigh. Both Mazzareli and Buttermilch make eye contact; was this the right thing to do? ¡°Oh-ho!¡± Hugo exclaims with a whistle, ¡°the daughter of SEATO¡¯s very own lion, Vincent Happ-Schwarzenberger? I believe she¡­ was the blonde right, correct? I remember her from the Lucky Alphonse briefing back on the 10th. Smart gal. She seems to take after her father in some respects if that simulation is anything to by. ¡°I should give her a commendation too when this is all over. I¡¯m sure her pops would like that too, eh?¡± Chal says after puffing a few rings from his fat roll of tobacco.If Victoria was here, Mazzareli thought, she would be red as a tomato from embarrassment¡ªand even let it get to her head. But given Hugo¡¯s praise of Victoria, he failed to read the room at that particular moment. The other officers¡ªspecifically Hugo¡¯s own staff¡ªwere murmuring to one another in a secretive matter. One of them catches Mazzareli¡¯s eye¡ªa man with pale features, thin hair, sunken cheeks, and tiny glasses that hung low on his nose bridge. He clears his throat to get the attention of the others. ¡°Commodore Hugo, you can not seriously be impressed by some lowly officers playing around¡­ some amateur¡¯s so-called simulation of a real campaign that involves real lives at stake!¡± To Mazzareli¡¯s ears, his voice was completely and utterly grating. ¡°We have waited around far too long wasting precious time! The operation¡¯s timetable is several hours behind schedule. The Year 217 Mafia is completely unaware of an assault through Valspon! That can only mean they are likely held down by the Federation in the Velksland system¡ªor already at L¨¹beck for all we know! There will be no fame and glory to be had here¡ªno glory if the fleet continues to twiddle its thumbs! We need to capitalize on advancing¡ª it¡¯s now or never! ¡± There are cries of hear hear! From the crowd, as his twisted face relaxes from the one moment of validation he gets. What a bunch of imbeciles! Mazzareli can feel his blood pressure rising just thinking about this buffoon putting the wrong idea into people¡¯s heads. It¡¯s completely sickening! ¡°¡ªOur Federation firepower is powerful enough that even a single squadron can handle any incoming relief force, and you saw how the cowards ran from a well-disciplined missile barrage! There¡¯s no way that they can break through our defenses so easily.¡± Mazzareli is sick of hearing the ugly words come out of this monstrosity. If you want to die that badly, then go ahead, don¡¯t drag our men into your insane schemes!Mazzareli¡¯s gaze turns to the commodore, who is deeply in thought with hands clasped under his chin again. ¡°A sound argument¡­¡± Chal muses, and it only causes Mazzareli to be even angrier. What the hell is sound about that?! Why are there even junior officers in here?! If that Happ-Schwarzenberger was here¡­ would she beat the shit out of this guy? Honestly,Mazzareli scoffs, I would let it slide if she did. ¡°From the looks of things, it seems the lot of you are torn about this. If it helps, I believe we should hold a vote. A democratic vote.¡± Chal motions for an adjutant to bring him a closed box with a single opening in it, and in the adjutant¡¯s other hand is a small basket with small scraps of folded paper. The adjutant goes around and hands everyone an accompanying marker and a paper piece. ¡°Write down yay for splitting the fleet, or nay to maintain formation until the fall of Side Baltit, from there we will move on to the L¨¹beck and Ides systems with a more cohesive force.¡± Mazzareli scans the room, it¡¯s clear that the scrawny man¡¯s posse outnumbers the guest ship commanders. It¡¯s more than clear on what the outcome will be already, and that pisses Mazzareli off. ¡°Once you write down your answer, fold it tightly and drop it in the box, and we will tally the votes thereafter.¡± Mazzareli takes one of the markers and takes off the cap. His answer is just as obvious as the outcome itself.
NAY
He had pressed down on the paper so hard with the marker that it almost bleeds onto the other side. But it won¡¯t matter¡ªunless fate is in a good mood today, there¡¯s no way in hell the fleet will remain as a single host. Mazzareli looks over at Buttermilch¡ªbut the main has a composed poker face. After everyone drops their vote into the box, Chal has an adjutant take them out and slowly count the tallies. The anticipation is killing Mazzareli¡ªbut judging from one pile becoming bigger than the other, the reality of this being a NAY slips further away. The adjutant finishes, pauses, looks at the room in mild disgust, then leans into Chal to inform him of the impending news. Chal looks at him with disappointment¡ªbut it¡¯s only for a split second, and stands up from his chair to announce the vote results. ¡°Gentlemen, democracy has spoken¡­ and history has been made¡­¡± For what seems like forever, the men in the strategic planning room hold their breaths in anticipation. ¡°The final decision will be made to split the fleet; one will remain to continue the siege of Side Baltit.¡± A clear of throats and angry murmurs in the room, ¡°the other will be detachments to L¨¹beck, and perhaps the Ides star zone as well. It¡¯s clear to me there will be no Mafia counterattack. ¡°When the time comes, I will forward additional orders regarding which ships will stay, and which ones will be part of forward detachments.¡± Hugo¡¯s voice cracks at some points with disappointment but finishes with a salute. ¡°Dismissed! Return to your ships at once and relay the order to the rest of your staff for the time being.¡± Buttermilch, who has been awfully quiet for most of the time, addresses Hugo with a return salute. ¡°Sir, before my XO and I leave¡ªI would like for it to go on record that the two of us were vehemently opposed to this decision. My after-action report¡­ when we return to Sydney, I will make sure to criticize the decision making and implementation of operation Lucky Alphonse against the betterment of the directory provided by Naval Command.¡± After one last exchange of salutes, Buttermilch and Mazzareli proceed out of the room accordingly. On the way out, however, they pass by the glum-faced officer who is quite pleased with the results. To Mazzareli¡¯s surprise, Buttermilch grabs the man¡¯s shoulder and punches him in the stomach. ¡°Oooffaaaaaaaa¡­.!¡± The man with the sunken cheeks cries out in pain and collapses to his knees shaking. ¡°That¡¯s on behalf of Happ-Schwarzenberger, scum. If she were here, she would have to be held back by a battalion of military police just to you from getting mauled. The fame and glory you so seek better be worth the sacrifice.¡± Buttermilch coldly tells the downed man. And with that Buttermilch and Mazzareli leave before the others can register what just happened¡ªthough to be fair, it¡¯s likely they silently supported the unprovoked assault. ¡°Was that necessary, Kenneth?¡± Mazzareli groans as he looks over his shoulder to make sure no MP is coming after them. ¡°I¡¯m just doing what no one else has the guts to deliver justice. It¡¯s the least I can do to make up to Happ.¡± Mazzareli answers as he leads the way up the shuttle ramp door. Mazzarelli looks at him puzzled, ¡°what exactly did the two of you talk about before you departed?¡± Buttermilch and Mazzareli take their seats with the other Yilan officers and strap in. The doors steadily hum to a close, and the faint roar of engines give the shuttle a gentle shake as it takes off from the ship¡¯s dock bay. ¡°I made a promise¡­ a promise, Viktor, to do whatever I can to prevent a fictional war game from becoming reality. And I failed to keep it.¡± Buttermilch says rather apologetically. He angrily clenches his hands into shaking fists. ¡°Democracy my ass¡­ for fame and glory my ass¡­ there¡¯s going to be nothing Luckyabout this Alphonse, Viktor.¡± Chapter 31: Memories of Toscana | ...Two Maidens... Clack. Clack. The standard-issue gray plastic eating utensil resembling the likes of a spoon and fork taps against the dark interior of the tan-colored bowl. But I make no attempts at taking a jab at the few nutritionists left in it. The bowl has a remainder of a dozen small greenish-blue peas and small blobs of rice dripped in a black condiment that adds such a questionable taste that I would have been better off not asking for any at all. But the cafeteria lady is so proud of the contents that she likes to rag on about how they¡¯re organic produce from the nearest Frankish settlement and how it will help me grow¡­ though haven¡¯t I grown enough already? Following Buttermilch¡¯s departure I was still left feeling down and decided to head to the cafeteria to cheer up with some comfort food, and though she gave me a pat on the back¡ªwhich hurt, by the way, what¡¯s with everyone giving me such rough slaps on the back?¡ªshe offered to give me some leftover selection of tofu that was probably not synthesized in a Metropolitan factory somewhere. Her most recent inventory of food for the day, she claims, is actually the real authentic stuff; real food grown with no fancy nasty stuff that usually goes over my head. The main exports from the planetary settlements located in the Frankish Domain mostly consist of agriculture commodities, with the Ruthenia colonies following in close behind. In the olden days, the terraformed Australian Outback was the breadbasket for the first pioneers of space colonization. But the Outback was soon overtaken in later decades by the strong fertile lands that alien planets in what was then, the ever-growing Frankish Domain had to offer. It¡¯s kind of funny when I think about it. Back home the food is actually worse than what they have to offer here. My mom is¡­ not exactly a world-class chef, but I admire her and dad for doing their best with what they make do with. I started to take this food for granted because it was just better. The food from the Franks have taste and quality that I never realized was even feasible growing up back home in Australia. But yet¡­ a part of me is homesick for mom¡¯s terrible cooking on top of the terrible processed food manufactured without soul for the en mass. Even if it was crappy, it was still food. I grew up on it and knew no better. And I miss it. Clack. Clack. Clack. Still more unenthusiastic taps with the spork against the surface of the bowl, and even fewer attempts at impaling the globs of rice or lonely peas. But, right, the tofu, getting back on point she had an unusual amount leftover from shelf life and offered to dump it all on me. It¡¯s tasty! She had exclaimed wrapping her arms around my neck in a deadly lock. This is not your ordinary lunch lady, mind you. She¡¯s unlike the typical overweight cafeteria ladies from my childhood¡ªshe¡¯s a bit on the lean side, with some hints of toned muscle if you didn¡¯t have the luxury of being in a bonafide headlock by her. I guess when you have to deal with hundreds of grumpy sailors who might want to get into a shouting match with you, I guess it makes sense to toughen up a bit when push comes to shove. Just because it¡¯s nearing its expiration date doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s necessarily bad! Or so she said and ended up giving me an unflattering heap of the blimey stuff without taking a word of protest. I never stuck around in the cafeteria, however. I took my yellow plastic tray straight to my room and sat down at my desk to eat. To get away from the rather bustling cafeteria. There¡¯s a lull in combat right now, I guess, and the military police have failed to maintain discipline order when the hard-ass Buttermilch departed with Mazzareli to the commodore¡¯s flagship. It¡¯s so casual that it reminds me of life back at the academy. It¡¯s only been a few months at best since our sped-up graduation and deployment to the Metropolitan Space Navy, but life aboard the Yilan makes it feel like a whole year has passed at least. So little has been done when we were idling waiting around in the Frankish Domain, with endless assignments and tactical war games against one another. And then Operation Lucky Alphonse happened¡­ Clack. Clack. I deflate with a sigh. Even though I hoped to eat some food for comfort, in the end, I never had much of an appetite. I haven¡¯t even taken one bite out of the pile of tofu yet. And yet¡­ The television across the room plays such a tremendous sound that it makes me nearly jump in my seat. Oh, right. I forgot Friederika barged her way into here earlier. And just as I had always thought, she nearly fell face flat on the light blue carpet after stepping on some random accessory. I never like it when she comes to my room because it¡¯s such a chaos that she complains about it in the end. But anyway, she came by to cheer me up, you know, like a good friend is supposed to do. Or, at least that was my original impression. But in reality, she just wanted to escape the military police since she¡¯s technically an accessory in my crime of insubordination across the Yilan. I don¡¯t blame her though, I don¡¯t think she even did anything when I left her hanging in my quest for Buttermilch. Interestingly, when I did walk past an MP, he only gave me a gentle slap on the wrist¡ªmetaphorically speaking, of course. None of that usual ¡®let¡¯s-hurt-Victoria-with-a-strong-slap-on-the-shoulder-blade¡¯ kinda deal. And when I say original impression¡­ She didn¡¯t even try to comfort me at all. In fact, after her much-deserved-in-hindsight comical crash, she pouted and went straight to my bed to watch the telly. But that loud noise makes me think it¡¯s not like her usual M-dramas. ¡°Sorry, did I startle you, Vicky?¡± She rolls over on my bed to look over at me. I think she¡¯s gotten too comfortable in that thing. It¡¯s going to smell like Friederika later¡ªand then I¡¯m going to sound like Friederika later. I can¡¯t even remember the last time I even washed my covers¡­ ¡°Oh, uhm¡­ yeah, you kinda did. Whatcha watching? It¡¯s pretty rare for your M-dramas to have violent action scenes don¡¯t you think?¡± ¡°Actually it¡¯s not an M-drama this time! It¡¯s some fantasy drama from a well-renowned studio in the Perdenes system¡ªbut it does have a few Martian actors that I liked, and I heard some marines talk about it so I figured it was worth checking out.¡± I let out a whistle. Friederika is not watching an M-drama for once? Well, it still has some actors from Marsol, so I guess it technically counts as one. ¡°What¡¯s it about, exactly?¡± I ask, ignoring my food for now and sliding my chair towards the telly. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. ¡°It¡¯s set in a fictional Perdenes where the realm was once unified by an empire but became shattered by a civil war that lasted for ages¡­ I didn''t get the chance to watch from the beginning, though, this is a dozen episodes in already. Anyway¡­¡± The setting certainly seemed medieval. Indeed, there are large iron looking cannons blasting away at once, which is probably what I was hearing before. The characters speak, and although they speak in a language that¡¯s awfully like angry-toned gibberish, the subtitles let me follow along; a siege is underway at the last bastion of resistance against the larger empire faction. Some important looking guy in elaborate looking bearskin armor is discussing with servants about the best course of action for the siege. A hole is shown to be blown in the wall, but the servants are cautious. The bearskin armor king wants to take advantage and storm the breach with infantry, but his men urge him to wait until they can blow another hole in the wall and spread the defense of the fortress city thin. Some of the servants go on to explain that if they channel most of their army into that single breach, then they will not suffer the initiative but also lose numerical superiority. The camera pans out to the camp¡ªand gosh! It is HUGE ! There¡¯s at least a thousand guys or so! ¡°Shocking, ain¡¯t it?¡± Friederika asks giddily. ¡°This show had an enormous budget for its time. I think this was made sometime in the 50s¡¯ or so? The studio borrowed a lot of actual active-service military guys from Marsol, so they were able to get away with a lot of big battle scenes without using¡­ what is it called? CG? Or whatever.¡± ¡°Oddly specific to move around that much manpower across the Orion Arm.¡± I muse in response, ¡°why didn¡¯t they just ask for some dudes from Ruthenia or even the Frankish Realm?¡± ¡°That¡¯s a good question as any,¡± Friederika hops to her feet and walks over to my table. Without occurring to me what Friederika is doing she quickly pinches some of the globs of rice from my bowl and with a free hand grabs the depressing black bowl containing the brown crispy tofu and hurries back to the bed. I decide not to protest about it, though. I wasn¡¯t too keen on eating the tofu anyway. Sorry, cafeteria lady, your delicious inventory of hard-earned tofu is a victim to Friederika¡¯s bottomless stomach. ¡°But I read that after suppressing a minor Martian revolt lasting some years earlier, they were transferred to the Perdenes system to act as a security force there, too.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure I still understand the logic, but I guess they wanted some experienced soldiers who knew what they were doing. It still baffles me why¡ª¡± ¡°Shhh! The commercial break is over!¡± ¡°Right¡­¡± I roll my eyes. This is a pretty fun watch, though. In the end, the bearskin armor king orders one last bombardment and leads the charge into one of the breaches where a cinematic battle scene unfolds against intense drumming and trumpets. Several of his foes fall but he takes many grave injuries, and someone that I guess is his best friend holds him in his arms. The dying bearskin armor king begs his friend to reassure him(the king) that the fight¡ªand the war as a whole¡ªwas well worth fighting for. In the king¡¯s dying breath, he orders his friend to keep the announcement of his death secret until the last moment¡ªas the battle lines were pushed back, and only a few on-screen are somberly witnessing the moment¡ªand in a rather emotional scene that even moves me a fair bit, the king closes his eyes one last time, just as the flag of his army is raised at one of the castle gates. And with that, the credits for the episode roll. ¡°That was kinda cool, but isn¡¯t it kinda spoiling yourself to not watch it from the beginning?¡± I ask Friederika, shortly before I finally jab one of the remaining resistance of dried together rice with the spork. Friederika only shoots me a funny look. ¡°You crazy? This series is like 50 episodes long and like 40 minutes each! And that¡¯s not even including the opening or credits, either. It¡¯s not like we have that much time that I can play catchup, and it¡¯s kinda plot-heavy¡ªthe M-dramas I watch are more or less self-contained¡­sorta.¡± After downing most of the tofu, Friederika pats her stomach and turns off the telly. ¡°But that aside, Vicky¡­ are you doing alright? Has your head bump gotten any better?¡± ¡°Oh¡­ yeah, it has. I barely even feel it anymore.¡± I gesture for Friederika to hand me the tofu bowl so I can put it back on the tray and send it to the cafeteria later for waste disposal. Technically we¡¯re not supposed to eat in our rooms, but since discipline has broken down and the Yilan has seemingly become a playground I just kinda took advantage of the situation. I needed to cool my head and not deal with the loud mess hall. ¡°Thanks for checking in on me¡ªeven though you didn¡¯t actually¡­¡± ¡°Ohhh, think nothing of it!¡± Friederika says while gushing for whatever reason. ¡°I just wanted to hang out with you while I still can. I couldn¡¯t exactly wheel in a TV to watch anything while I was with you in the medical bay, you know? I was bored out of my mind!¡± Well, I was going to ask why she even came to my room just to use me for my telly, but I guess that answers it. She¡¯s as much of a social creature as anyone else. Watching stuff with friends is several times more fun than being alone cooped up in her room. Friederika might be a bit of a dimwit but I¡¯m glad I have a friend like her. ¡°But that aside¡­ I never got to ask you about Buttermilch, did I? Did you manage to catch him before he left for the commodore¡¯s ship? Were you able to give him a piece of your mind before he left?¡± She asks with such concern that it makes me feel bad for calling her a dimwit just now. ¡°Yeah, I did, thankfully¡­ and I think I got everything off my chest¡ªI can only hope he can convince Commodore Chal along with the other officers. I feel like¡­ my only regret is not forcing myself to tag along with him. I think if I came along, I could help convince everyone not to do anything irrational¡­ and I didn¡¯t. And it makes me want to kick myself.¡± I got up from my desk to sit next to Friederika on the bed, ¡°the whole thing you said about people complaining we¡¯re wasting time and fears of splitting the fleet kinda did get to me¡­¡ªand by the way!¡± I karate chop an unsuspecting Friederika on the forehead and she cries out in typical Friederika noises, ¡°Buttermilch said you need to get your hearing checked¡ªbecause the guys you overheard weren¡¯t actually talking about that at all. They were more or less crying about not being part of theMalabo marine force, or whatever.¡± ¡°Tee-hee~¡± Friederika playfully knocks on the side of her head, ¡°I guess I am the source of many great woes!~¡± ¡°I think if there was ever a goddess of misinformation and woes, it¡¯d probably be you.¡± I say, failing to hide a grin. ¡°You don¡¯t like to mince your words, do you?¡± Friederika shoots back but she can¡¯t refrain from cracking a smile, too. ¡°Well, hurt words aside, I did my job of cheering you up, didn¡¯t I? It wasn¡¯t all in vain to risk dying in here to a catastrophe of a room. Look at you, no longer bummed as a ghost! Lemme pinch those cheeks!~¡± But before Friederika can tease me any more, a siren wail from outside catches our attention which is followed by a female announcer calling all personnel to the strategic planning room. ¡°I suppose it¡¯s about time, huh¡­¡± Friederika says offhandedly. ¡°Commander Buttermilch must be back from his little trip.¡± The anxiety spike makes my stomach churn. Honestly, I¡¯m kind of worried sick about seeing Buttermilch now. Who knows what news he may bring back with him? If it¡¯s anything other than what I¡¯m hoping¡­ ¡°The planning room, right? Well then, let¡¯s get going?¡ªOh, and I¡¯ll leave the food here for now. The cafeteria is in the opposite direction so I¡¯ll come back for it later, I don¡¯t want the two of us to be written up for missing muster.¡± I tell Friederika, and she gives me a nod in reply. And with that, the two of us leave my room in tense silence. Chapter 32: Memories of Toscana | ...And Distraught in the Yilan (Top 50 Trending!!!!!) With the Yilan echelon more or less back from their short field trip, it was high time for the MP to strike from the shadows and smite all the evil-doers¡­ really though, the atmosphere of the hallways and the strategic planning room was no longer casual. The MP only sometimes smacked people upside the head and told them to behave. If Commander Buttermilch certainly got wind of what was going on behind his back I imagine the brig would be at overcapacity. ¡°Fall in!¡± One of Buttermilch¡¯s adjutants, once powerless with the support of the MP, barked. No one dared disobeyed, and before long officers, both junior and senior muster into double lioness around the room. ¡°Remain at attention!¡± The adjutant barked again with the meanest of glares. I suppose this must be collective punishment in retaliation for us running amok, but isn¡¯t this stance a bit too unfair? It¡¯s not likeeveryone was chilling out ignoring regulations, you know! Talk about sadism. I haven¡¯t even been standing around for long and already my knees are beginning to hurt a bit. The adjutant and his gang of grumpy MP are going around giving everyone brief inspections of their uniforms. There¡¯s the occasional loud back and forth interrogation between the adjutant and whatever unfortunate officer is at his mercy. Which is followed either by a ¡®very well! Carry on!¡¯ or a smack across the head. Seriously, just because you¡¯re Buttermilch¡¯s teacher¡¯s pet doesn¡¯t mean you should abuse your power like that! But, boy, this sure isn¡¯t helping the atmosphere. Instead of casualness it¡¯s just really stressed out, and come to think of it¡­ the adjutant isn¡¯t at me yet, so risking a quick inspection of my uniform¡­ they¡¯re a bit wrinkly. Plus, if I squint real hard enough there¡¯s a tintsy-wintsy splotch of dark purple that stands out far too well just around my waist. Oops. Well, I¡¯m sure he probably won¡¯t notice i¡ªwhy is there suddenly a shadow cast over me? ¡°Ensign Happ-Schwarzenbergerrr!¡± The shrieking voice of the adjutant makes me shudder. The collective gulps from the other officers add to the goosebumps. ¡°Y¡ªyes, sir!¡± I salute him rather feebly, ¡°Ensign Happ- sh¡ªshortsenburger present and accounted for!¡± Oh blimey, now I¡¯ve done and flubbed it. The adjutant steps in real close ¡ªtoo close!¡ª I can, involuntarily, smell his stench breath¡­ dude, learn to brush your teeth, or take breath mints, or something. He proceeds to eye me from top to bottom. ¡°Ensign, you forgot to address me with sir after presenting yourself. On top of that, your uniform is unusually poorly maintained!¡± He shrieks in my face again¡ªthe closeness means some loose spit gets on my face too. Gross. For some reason, this suddenly brings back repressed memories of headmistresses being witches and doing cruel and unusual punishments to us kids. The only difference is¡­ that was her job. She had to do that to make us ¡®better members of society¡¯.Though her methods were a bit too extreme sometimes, maybe a bit too extreme for poor little kids like us back then. In hindsight, I guess you say her efforts were kind of in vain, though. But this guy¡­ ¡°Ensign¡­ there is a dirty splotch on your jacket!¡± He nearly screams with bloodshot eyes. Good lord, this guy is just being an asshole for the kicks of it. This adjutant is even more of an asshole than Commander Buttermilch. And that¡¯s quite the feat to accomplish. Buttermilch, in Mazzareli¡¯s words, is a hard-ass, but this guy is just a plain and simple asshole. If the likes of this guy climb up the ranks of the Metropolitan Space Navy then I fear for the future, and for the future crop of youth who have to endure the likes of this adjutant. ¡°What do you have to say for yourself, ensign?!¡± The adjutant is so in my face now, that if either one of us even leaned forward even slightly, we could press lips together, and I¡¯m not about to lose my first kiss to the likes of this guy! ¡°I think you¡¯re a piec¡ª¡± I utter without thinking, but before I can even finish the sentence, the sounds of boots clacking against each other cuts off a potential punch in retaliation. ¡°Parade rest!¡± One of the soldiers nearby orders. The spell cast upon by the red apple-fuming adjutant is undone, with some collective sighs of relief throughout the room. The adjutant clicks his tongue and does an about-face away from me to resume his former position next to other adjutants and his gang of MP. The relief is only temporary. Almost at once, a new spell of cold tension fills the room once the familiar sight of our CO and XO¡ªButtermilch and Mazzareli¡ªwith their tow of general staff shuffling close behind. Each officer and soldier he passes is a wave of well-executed salutes. They all look tired. A bit glum even. Neither Buttermilch nor Mazzareli makes any attempts to look in my direction¡ªin fact, they seem to be staring lifelessly at the floor, avoiding eye contact with everyone altogether. Once they reach officer Asshole, Buttermilch informs him he is relieved of acting commander, and gestures for him to fall in line with the others. I watch with trained eyes as rows upon rows of eyes give him bloodthirsty gazes as he takes his place in line. It would not surprise me if something nasty happened to him later¡ªkarma for treating others like trash. An Eye for an eye and whatever. This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. Buttermilch and Mazzareli do not say a word to us the whole time. It¡¯s eerily quiet, and my heart thumps faster against my chest. Only a cough breaks the silence here and there. There¡¯s no reason that our CO and XO returned in such poor spirits, is there? Of course, there is the possibility of a worst-case scenario¡ªbut I shake my head. No¡­ Buttermilch could not have failed, could he? He would have fought tooth and nail to persuade the commodore to change his mind. He has to! The fate of a thousand sailors rests upon his shoulders¡ªChal¡¯s shoulders. He even went as far as to take a copy of the simulation with him just to show what happens if you take the wrong turn of events¡ªif he was impressed by our play, then there¡¯s no doubt Chal and his general staff would be, too! So then¡­ Buttermilch clearing his throat brings me back to reality. ¡°¡ªWell then, without further ado, I will now provide a briefing on the next phase of Operation Lucky Alphonse,¡± Buttermilch activates the over-head blue holographic projection of the SideBaltit and the Chal fleet, which I assume is a live feed of our current situation. ¡°Due to the delayed actions of our situation at Side Malabo, the timetables for Lucky Alphonsesuffered considerably in the eyes of many. Some expressed fear we have missed our window of opportunity for a speedy occupation of the Cluster colonies and the immediate push for L¨¹beck. ¡°Then there are those who believe that, given the lack of response from L¨¹beck, that there is, in fact, no relief force coming¡ªthat L¨¹beck is, in all probability, not even aware of a Federation force in their sphere of influence¡ªor perhaps bogged down by Rear Admiral DeRyck at Rouen. Given the latter, as well as an analysis of the simulation provided by Ensign Happ and Sub-Lieutenant Trachenberg¡­¡± All eyes shifted to us very briefly, and I felt an unnerving swell of embarrassment in my chest from all the gazes giving me validation. A part of me feels relieved, though, that my actions mattered somewhat. It wasn¡¯t all in vain, but even still¡­ this doesn¡¯t explain why the XO and CO are so¡­ ¡°¡ªCommodore Chal was impressed by the results of the simulation brought on by splitting the fleet and informed us that we will maintain a single host until after the Cluster capital fell. However¡­¡± However¡­ what? Don¡¯t just leave us hanging you dolt! My poor heart can¡¯t handle this cruel anticipation! Don¡¯t you know better than to leave a girl hanging?! My chest is going numb from the rapid beating, and it¡¯s hard to maintain proper breathing. ¡°¡­There was some criticism of Commodore Chal¡¯s decision to maintain a cohesive force. In light of there being no counterattack from the Mafia, one camp viewed the lack of pirate reinforcements as a benefit and tried to convince the commodore to split one force to act as a vanguard to L¨¹beck.¡± There were some murmurs of objection to this from the others. I feel a cold hand clasp mine that nearly makes me jump from being startled, and I turn halfway to find Friederika looking worried sick in her eyes. She¡¯s biting down on her lip in distress, as if to tell me this isn¡¯t looking too good, Vicky. Mazzareli gestures for the crowd to quiet down and Buttermilch continues, ¡°¡­Commodore Chal attempted to appease both camps by holding a democratic vote; to split the fleet, or stay as one: yay or nay.¡± There is a brief pause from Buttermilch, whose gaze lowers to the floor. Friederika¡¯s gradual warming hand squeezes down tighter on mine. ¡°The results of the democratic vote¡­¡± The voice of the CO trails off after a few more moments. His gaze shifts to the officers¡­ then to his XO, then to officer Asshole¡­ the holographic projection¡­ and then right at me. The look of sadness in his pupils is enough to make my heart sink. I feel lightheaded. My knees get weak and my arms shake from lack of energy. ¡°Were a yay for splitting the fleet.¡± Buttermilch¡¯s words are just loud enough for the room to hear. But at the same time, it doesn¡¯t feel like the words reach me at all. His words make me feel like I¡¯m in a fever dream. This is all a dream, and I¡¯m going to wake up any minute now in the medical bay, with a dozing off Friederika at my side. Any minute now I will turn back time and relive those experiences leading up to meeting with Buttermilch again. Any minute now¡­ I will beg Buttermilch to let me go with him. Any minute now¡­ any minute now¡­ I will beat the shit out of whoever maniac objected to an inch of their life. Any minute¡­ any minute now¡­ Any¡­ minute now, I will prevent a catastrophe from unfolding. We¡¯ll all go home. Together. Nobody will have to die. Lucky Alphonse will go home as a brilliant victory of Commodore Chal. Any¡­ But that moment never comes. This fever dream doesn¡¯t end¡ªit¡¯s gotten hazy, but it doesn¡¯t end. I¡¯m stuck in my coma for just a little longer. This hallucination just goes on and on. That¡¯s it, this is just one elaborate hallucination. There¡¯s no way there would be an overwhelming vote for yay. There¡¯s no logical explanation that it wouldn¡¯t be a nay.This isn¡¯t reality anymore¡ªit never was after that explosion knocked me unconscious. It¡¯s one long, big, lucid dream. Just like the one with Paul and the terrifying inferno. I can do whatever I want and wake up from this coma without consequences. I¡¯ll be right back in the medical bay¡­ My legs move on their own, straight for Buttermilch. ¡°V-Vicky?!¡± Someone calls out to me in complete surprise, but I don¡¯t know who. Friederika? Paul? Officer Asshole? It doesn¡¯t matter anymore. None of this is real. This is just some prophetic dream that I have to prevent. The look in Buttermilch¡¯s eyes. He¡¯s surprised, for sure, but at the same time¡­ he looked relaxed¡ªperhaps he expected this. Maybe he was anticipating me to act out of line. Is it characteristic of me to be such a lousy subordinate by now? But none of this matters. I just want to do this before I wake up from this terrible dream. I want to give Buttermilch a piece of my mind so I don¡¯t have to do it for real. Even if this wasn¡¯t a hallucination¡­ none of it will matter if we¡¯re dead. I¡¯ve said it a dozen times already, but the fact still remains. And it¡¯s all the more true now¡­ but it doesn¡¯t have to be true. I lift one of my arms, palm outstretched and with great strength¡­ SMAACK! Chapter 33: Memories of Toscana | Harsh Reality The next moment, I opened my eyes to a ceiling that, just a few hours earlier, I mused to be in heaven. That familiar-looking white tiled ceiling. But it wasn¡¯t. It¡¯s more of a faint hint of green, and it¡¯s not tiled either. If this isn¡¯t heaven then¡­ would this be purgatory? The bedding underneath me isn¡¯t uncomfortable either. It¡¯s not like the comfy mattress in the medical bay. This is a lot rougher, honestly, calling it a mattress would be an insult to actual mattresses everywhere, so I think that warrants a formal apology in the future. The room isn¡¯t a huge area with dozens of patient beds, either. This is certainly a small room¡ªand even that is generous¡ªthat¡¯s probably less than the size of my cabin room restroom. The door ¡ªor lack thereof¡ª is a set of bars¡ª Oh. I¡¯m in the brig. Making my way to the cell door, I grasp the opening in the bars and tug at it. Yup, that¡¯s metallic alright. There¡¯s a bunch of other sailors in other cells that whistle out to me calling me insulting names and stuff. Rude. And gross. That whistle, I mean. So it wasn¡¯t a fever dream, huh. I look up and down the corridor to take in reality. And boy, does harsh reality hit hard. That wasn¡¯t a lucid dream¡ªI guess I did step out of line, literally, and slap the CO. ¡°Haha¡­ hahaha¡ªHAHAHAHAHAHHA¡­¡± Some of the other detainees scream at me to shut up, but I don¡¯t pay them any mind. ¡°¡­I just caused my father a whopping heap of trouble¡­ didn¡¯t I?¡± I muse as my grip on the bars tighten. What was I thinking? What now? ¡°That you did, ensign.¡± I almost nod in agreement but jump back to my senses. Several men approach my cell, one them with an MP armband. And the other two are¡­ ¡°Commander Buttermilch and Lieutenant Pluto?¡± I ask disparagingly, and Prince winces at my subconscious flubbing of his surname. The MP moves in front of the two and proceeds to unlock my cell amid jealous hollers from the other detainees. Prince shoots them glares and the whines subside thereafter. The MP heaves the sliding door open and gestures for me to leave the cell. ¡°¡­Is it really okay for me to leave?¡± I ask both the MP and Buttermilch¡ªwho has a large red palm mark on the right side of his cheek. Yeah¡­ I guess I was really angry. Buttermilch nods his head, and gestures for Prince and the MP to leave, when they do so. With the two of us alone amid curious detainee eyes, I can¡¯t help but break the odd silence between us. ¡°¡­Commander, um¡­about earlier¡­¡± ¡°I should apologize,¡± the two of us say simultaneously, and I look at Buttermilch in surprise. ¡°Er¡­ if I¡¯m free from the cell, then, uh¡­ I think we should head out to someone more, er¡­ private?¡±
We ended up heading for Buttermilch¡¯s office. On our way there we were¡ªor ratherI was¡ª given odd glances from the people we passed. But not once did I ever encounter Friederika along the way. She must have shriveled up and moped around somewhere since they were probably not allowing guests in the brig. The thought of Friederika getting whistled at by sailors is both amusing and disgusting, though. So I¡¯m glad she didn¡¯t stop by¡ªFriederika would probably do a lot of things for me, but I think bearing through that for me would be sad, but it is a very Friederika-y thing to do. ¡°Please, take a seat, ensign.¡± Buttermilch motions for me to sit at his desk, which I don¡¯t refuse, unlike before. Back then¡­ I was going off about how strong I had to look in front of my superiors, or something nonsensical like that. I mean, it¡¯s only been like, a little over half a day ago at this point, but it still feels like an eternity. I can¡¯t help but scoff at my immaturity. And speaking of self-reflection¡ªeven now after all this time I still think the aesthetics of his cherry-red room clashes a bit too much with our blue uniforms. I wouldn¡¯t say it to his face, of course, but I reckon Buttermilch grew up with a poor sense of fashion. ¡°Ensign?¡± The commander calls me from that one tray of alcohol from before. ¡°S-sir?¡± Instinctively I stand up from the chair at attention, but Buttermilch raises his shoulders in a shrug and pours himself a glass. ¡°You can be at ease, ensign¡­¡± ¡°Sir¡­ I¡ªI¡¯m sorry about my insubordination earlier, I don¡¯t¡ª¡± Buttermilch lifts a hand as he takes a sip from his glass with the other. ¡°With all due respect¡ªsir, you should¡ª¡± But my words continue to fall on deaf ears. ¡°You know, after that happened, the MP jumped on you and Mazzareli was fuming. It was an odd scene. Usually, I would be the mad one¡ªI was mentally preparing myself for something like that happening¡­¡± He expected it? Oh¡­ ¡°Mazzareli gave Lieutenant Prince quite the earful about the ordeal. And when he tried to reprimand Friederika for it¡­ the poor thing couldn¡¯t handle the pressure. I told them she had nothing to do with it, and she got emotional and ran off.¡± I felt my heart actually ache there. Friederika! I¡¯m so sorry! I can only afford to grieve in silence as Buttermilch washes down the rest of the glass and proceeds to pour himself another. ¡°And yet, you weren¡¯t¡­¡± ¡°Mad? No, not at all. Well, yes¡ªI was mad at myself.¡± Huh? ¡°¡­I was powerless to veto the decision to split the fleet. I couldn¡¯t do anything at all. I regretted my decision not to invite more of our staff to Commodore Chal¡¯s ship. It is my fault alone that the die was tossed against our favor. A lot of Chal¡¯s men were idiotic enough to believe that, despite outstretching the supply lines and exposing ourselves dangerously, their logic was¡­ if we could capture L¨¹beck in time, we can negotiate the rest of the pirate force¡ªif there remains one¡ªto stand down. That way, we get our fame and glory¡­ the fame and glory that only exists in delusions. ¡°In Chal¡¯s words¡­ democracy has spoken¡­ and history has been made¡­¡±Buttermilch slams down his empty glass on the tray and sighs heavily. ¡°The majority of idiots truly believe they have done the right thing, and for what, Happ?¡± He turns to face me with outstretched arms and an expression that bores defeat. ¡°¡ªIf I had just taken more of my staff¡­ if I had more like-minded individuals who saw the fruits of your simulation¡ªif I had YOU on board Chal¡¯s ship¡­¡± Buttermilch grits his teeth in anger. ¡°Things can go down differently¡ªas it stands now I¡ªwe have no idea who is even staying and who is going. If our section goes¡­¡± He makes his way to his desk and slumps down into his chair, then buries his face into his hands. Honestly, I¡¯m speechless. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen this side of the commander before. If our section goes¡­ what would happen? ¡°Do you think¡­ there¡¯s still the chance of a counterattack by the Year 217 Mafia? By¡­ the Madame Scarface?¡± I ask after a moment of silence, and Buttermilch lifts his head. His face has gotten a little red around the eyes¡ªprobably from the alcohol, no less. ¡°Ah¡­ yes, the Madame¡­ the very scourge of the Federation, or so they say. A brilliant tactician that single handedly captured a prized Federation battleship; the MSN Jaguar¡­ I wasn¡¯t there myself¡ªat the fateful skirmish it was captured in¡­ but I knew some comrades who were stationed in it. I remember¡­ when news came back of its capture, I was disturbed. Everyone I knew was either dead or taken prisoner. And the worst part is¡ªcommand at the time was stubborn about sending any more reinforcements¡­ the same exact problem we had then is an issue now!¡± He angrily jabs at the oak desk with his index finger. ¡°The same problem of fools refusing to do what¡¯s right. And it cost us a battleship and thousands of sailors and marines as a result of poor decision-making. It disgusts me¡ªand just like then¡­ I was powerless, unable to do anything. I figured¡­¡± Buttermilch abruptly gets up to pour himself another drink from the alcohol tray. ¡°I figured¡­ if I could get enough promotions, I could be the change that the Navy needed¡­ I could¡­ prevent any more maniacs from dictating orders that could save lives¡­ that I could prevent another MSN Jaguar from ever happening. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. ¡°¡­But perhaps I was naive¡ªI am naive. I spent the last good four or five years slaving away to get promoted¡­ and with the rank of commander, I believed¡­ I was fully capable of accomplishing what I wanted to do. And yet¡­ ¡°And yet¡­ I failed all the same. Democracy has spoken¡­ for fame and glory¡­ my ass!¡± Buttermilch finishes with such a raised voice that it makes me flinch. ¡°Ah¡­ my apologies, Happ. If only your father could see me now ¡ªIf Vincent was here¡­¡± He shakes his head and slumps again into his chair, head resting on one arm, ¡°¡­if Vincent was here, he would¡¯ve raised hell at the meeting, I¡¯d reckon¡­¡± Buttermilch scoffs. ¡°¡ªhistory tends to do interesting stuff when a certain actor is on stage or not. It must be painful for Vincent¡ªyour father, to be languishing away in Sydney, wondering daily if he¡¯ll ever see his daughter again¡ªin the flesh, or as an empty casket being lowered into the soil¡­ ¡°Ensign Happ-Schwarzenberger.¡± I didn¡¯t even realize it, but I was actually standing up this entire time, still, despite Buttermilch¡¯s order to be at ease¡ªI stiffened up, regardless. ¡°Y-Yes, sir!¡± ¡°I appreciate you listening to my rambling¡ªnot that you had a say in the matter. Originally¡­ I just wanted to let you know that the slap was just karma¡­ I actually punched one of the shit-faces that argued against keeping the fleet as one¡ªI told him if you were present, you¡¯d do a lot more damage¡­ karma works in strange ways, I suppose,¡± Frankly I¡¯m not even sure what to say or think of that, flattery? Embarrassment? Buttermilch can¡¯t help but crack me a weak smile. ¡°Now if you excuse me, ensign, I need to get writing a report on the operation so far. I suggest you remain on standby or look for your sub-lieutenant friend¡­ she could probably need some comforting right now I¡¯d imagine.¡± Buttermilch remarks as he absentmindedly looks down to open one of his drawers. And with that, I give one last salute and depart the room.
I didn¡¯t even bother to scour the Yilan for Friederika as I did with Buttermilch. There¡¯s only one place she¡¯s likely to be at, and that¡¯s her room. I stand before her front door and give it a few taps, but I get no answer. ¡°Kiki¡­ it¡¯s me. Are you in there?¡± I ask and get no reply. I knock again, and again. The same question but no answer. I take a step back from her door in ponder. Did the MP apprehend her after all? If they did¡­ Friederika would only hate me more. But before I can even think about leaving¡­ Click, creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek¡­ I turn around to face the door again¡ªand there¡¯s an opening big enough to catch a glimpse of a teary-eyed, bedroom-haired Friederika peeking through at me. ¡°What do you want, Vicky?¡± She utters after a moment of silence, it¡¯s more like a sad croak. Poor thing. ¡°Hey, hey now¡­ is that how you talk to your one and only friend?¡± I ask with a cracked voice. ¡°I heard from Buttermilch what happened after, uh¡­ I got dog-piled by the MP¡­ Kiki¡­ I didn¡¯t¡­I didn¡¯t mean for my actions to¡­¡± Friederika slams the door in my face before I get the chance to even finish, ¡°¡ªget you involved¡­¡± I trail off with a lump in my throat. Yeah, I think she¡¯s kinda upset. Come to think of it I don¡¯t think either of us has actually gotten mad at each other before, I wonder if this is a first for us? I couldn¡¯t imagine what she went through in that ordeal to make her behave like this, but if Buttermilch said it was true it must¡¯ve been really emotional for her. I swear I¡¯ll give the MP a piece of my mind¡­! Before I can even think about leaving, though. I hear the metallic moan of the doo¡ª ¡°WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! VICKY!!!!!!!!!!!¡± ¡ªTHUMP ¡ªI¡¯m nearly tackled to the floor and practically pinned in the process¡­ was Friederika always this fat? The only words that manage to escape my lips are oofbecause of the wind getting knocked straight out of me. I can hardly even wiggle under this pressed weight. Did she literally crash on-top of me? ¡°Oi, get off me, you fat oaf!¡± I say after a few gasps of air, ¡°no more tofu for you!¡± ¡°WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!¡± Friederika isn¡¯t even listening to me. She¡¯s hugging me with a hydraulic grip. At this rate, I probably will arrive back home in a coffin. I manage to wrestle my arms free from underneath Friederika and pinch her cheeks as hard as I can. ¡°Kiki, you bloody lard! Get off me already!¡± I cry out again as I protest by stretching her cheeks. Finally, she does heave herself off me and positions herself in a sitting position. ¡°Kiki¡­ I¡¯m¡ª¡± ¡°It¡¯s okay, Vicky! Don¡¯t think about it too much,¡± Friederika says nonchalantly, she rubs her eyes with the heel of her palm, ¡°a lot just went on at the time and¡­ I just got overwhelmed, that¡¯s all! I¡¯m fine!¡± She shoots me a weak smile, ¡°there¡¯s no way I could get mad at you¡ªwhy would I get mad at you?¡± ¡°Sorry¡­ I just got worried sick about you is all,¡± And Friederika just bursts out laughing. ¡°W-what¡¯s so funny, huh?¡± I ask, trying to hide sudden irritation. ¡°It¡¯s nothing¡­ I¡¯m just trying to laugh so I don¡¯t break down in tears again. It¡¯s not like you to care for me at all, you know¡­ usually, it¡¯s the other way around¡­ I¡¯m just not used to being on the defensive.¡± She gives me that wonderful Friederika smile that I love her for. ¡°That just means you love me a whole lot, doesn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Wuh¡ª! Who¡¯d want to love a dumb broad like you?¡± I retort while trying to stifle a grin. ¡°Even if I was the last guy in the galaxy I wouldn¡¯t marry the likes of you!¡± ¡°If the two of you are done being lovebirds, I¡¯d like it if you two could stop dilly dallying and get back to your posts.¡± The familiar voice of a certain older Plotte snaps us out of our little banter-infused reunion. Friederika and I turn to face the lieutenant, who towers over us with an unamused squint and crossed arms. ¡°Oh, hello Prince, you just love to stop by and parade on other people¡¯s fun, don¡¯t you?¡± Toying with Prince is worth the fun. A vein nearly pops above Prince¡¯s eyes. ¡°EnSIGN Happ-SCHWARZENBERGER,¡± yeah, he¡¯s mad alright, ¡°I need to knock some sense into your inappropriate addressing one of these days. Perhaps the two of you want to spend some intimate time together in the brig?¡± Friederika and I exchange funny looks and quickly shake our heads when we look back at Prince, ¡°right¡­ if you have free time out of your ever-busy schedule, then make yourself useful and head to the bridge for further orders. ¡°Lieutenant Commander Mazzareli has received the order to prepare the Yilan and her section to advance to L¨¹beck ahead of the main fleet. Until then, make yourselves useful¡ªand try not to cause me any more trouble than you already have.¡± Prince gives me a salute before he leaves¡ªbut not before shooting us one last annoyed glare as he disappears around the corner. ¡°¡­So the time has finally come, huh?¡± I say breaking the tense air. It¡¯s been far too tense lately I¡¯ve noticed. ¡°Buttermilch said everyone believes there will be no counterattack, right? I mean¡­ there¡¯s probably nothing to worry about, right? So much time has passed¡­ and not so much a single ship from Loo-beck or whatever it¡¯s called.¡± She pats me on the shoulder; a gentle pat this time, not like the ¡®bruise-up-Victoria¡¯ kind. A smile of meager reassurance. ¡°I¡¯m sure Chal¡¯s fleet will pull through either way. You saw what our barrages are capable of, right? So don¡¯t stress about it too much, okay? It¡¯s out of our control now¡ªI don¡¯t want you to start turning into a worrywart on me just yet. That would be too much for me to handle.¡± Friederika gets up before I do and extends a hand out to me. ¡°Come on, let¡¯s get going.¡± Friederika is right. What¡¯s done is done, and no amount of moping can change that. Maybe I was worrying all this time for nothing? If there¡¯s no counterattack, and if thatMadame Scarface is indeed still at Velksland¡­ then L¨¹beck is ripe for the taking. And if we take the Cluster colonies at L¨¹beck off guard, then maybe they can¡¯t signal for help from any pirate force in Rouen¡ªand once the Baltit falls, then we don¡¯t have to worry too much about this headache in the first place. Maybe it wasn¡¯t all for nothing¡ªthe simulations, I mean. Chal was impressed by it and did want to maintain his formation because of it. Maybe Buttermilch is wrong? Maybe not every person holding in the upper echelon are bumbling idiots¡ªthere¡¯s still hope for our future. Buttermilch doesn¡¯t want another MSN Jaguar, and I don¡¯t want this to go down in history as Unlucky Alphonse. We¡¯ve done all that we can. With that in mind, I grab Friederika¡¯s offered hand and pull myself up to an optimistic future. Chapter 34: Memories of Toscana | Dong Ches Miserable Day
THE BALTIT¡¯S HARBOR
Things were not looking good for Dong Che. Despite his orders for limited sorties out of the safety of the Baltit harbor, a lot of men disobeyed his order and tried to make a name for themselves¡ªbut it was all vain. Their futileness accomplished virtually nothing that could work in Che¡¯s favor¡ªperhaps they were intending to break out for L¨¹beck and avoid a drawn-out siege. Che will never know. In the end, they were pointless sacrifices, unlike that of the brave old man at the Malabo. It resulted in useless lots of lives and material. And now they have suffered for it. After the first few sorties out of the harbor, Che was faced with a reserve that numbered around one hundred and twenty ships left, including the likes of auxiliary vessels. With each passing hour, Che helped for news of a relief fleet. With each tick of the clock, Che hoped that either his father or Li would come. But it never does. There is no hope, Che laments looking down the empty bottle of rum he just now finished, but I can¡¯t tell that to the men. The men and women under his command are putting their lives on the line for a relief that will never come. The harbor entrances leading outside became the battleground of close-quarters ship combat. Although in the Federation¡¯s case, it was one-sided. The bottleneck helped to prolong the inevitable. Inevitably, though, Che¡¯s force would not be able to maintain attrition. They had time, but not the resources to maintain the bottleneck for much longer. And who knows what the common pirate makes of this situation? Che can only preach lies of hope for so long. How many pirate warlords found themselves in this exact situation? Enemies in front and potentially enemies behind them, somewhere near the cusp of mutiny or death. Already, dozens of ship debris¡ªmostly Federation¡ªlitter the floor of the humongous entryway. Their armaments were not meant for inner-Side combat. According to Li, the Metropolitan naval doctrine is nuclear-missiles and that would spell disaster if even so much as one missed its target and detonated in the harbor. In her words, it would spell the deaths of millions of innocent civilians¡ªcivilians that they seek to ¡®liberate¡¯, and genocide would certainly not help in their champion of quashing pirate scum like them. This Federation fleet in particular may have missiles with far less lethal yields, Che surmises, or at least warheads with no nuclear payloads. Che doesn¡¯t need to look out of his makeshift tent to know that dozens of missiles missed their mark and exploded somewhere in the harbor. Che was originally in his Pattani, but after exiting it one time for an inspection of damage done to a nearby depot, a missile landed some yards away from the ship, and shrapnel shredded the rear end of the Pattani. Miraculously, the ship did not explode. But it spooked Che enough that he decided to make a temporary command post somewhere else¡ªsomewhere that was safe and less prone to getting annihilated compared to sitting in a big metal box that may as well be his coffin. And that temporary command post was a tan linen tent. Simple, and not too big. Sure, Che thought, it offered virtually no protection whatsoever. But the harbor is big,and he chose a spot that wasn¡¯t too far from the front-lines and wasn¡¯t in the smack middle of the area where it was far more probable of a missile landing. It provided an exquisite view of the depressing situation. Che hated it, he wanted to be in his air-conditioned office. Or, even better, inside the safely of the block that the harbor leads into. Since the Federation can¡¯t be willing to use nuclear warheads lest they desire collateral damage. Thankfully, this isn¡¯t a Ruthenian force under that terrifying Dolz¡ª the Mad Dog of Ruthenia. But his subordinates said no. Che hates them so much. All they do is give him headaches that this alcohol is continuing to fail to drown out. We can¡¯t afford a fraction of a second in communication delays, we need you here where we can reach you easier. Or so they said. And they had the gall to call him a coward¡­ while the brave volunteers of the Year 217 Mafia are risking their very lives on the surface of the entranceway, Che wants to live a quiet life in the safety of the Side interior. From what Che knows, much of the actual ship-to-ship fighting has subsided over the last couple hours. This has been followed by the Federation commencing several amphibious assaults onto the cluttered surface of the harbor entranceway. And so far, due to the varying degree of ship carcasses left around it has been hell for defenders and attackers alike. Across from Che¡¯s tent is a hastily-made hospital ward. It¡¯s practically at over-capacity, and the transportation logistics needed to send them to actual hospitals inside the colony is completely overwhelmed. The brave pirates who need critical attention die left unattended due to a lack of medical supplies or available hands. The various volunteer nurses can only afford to cover them up with blankets and move on to other wounded. These men and women die with hope on their mind¡ªthat their brethren will live on to be relieved by the Madame. Regret that they couldn¡¯t do more to stop the Federation juggernaut. They die, knowing they have been freed from this hellish nightmare. And for that, Che can¡¯t help but envy them. The honk of a vehicle horn brings back Che from the depths of his hazy monologue. His wonderful assistant, Darcy, pulls up just short of the entrance to the tent. She hops out of the passenger side, ¡°captain, we have a bit of a problem upfront.¡± She says with a somber tone. When is it ever good news? The young Dong thought to himself as he struggles to get on his feet from the purple cushion he sat on. Several empty bottles clatter around like bowling ball pins because of his carelessness. The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Go on, Darcy, entertain me. I could use some humor right about now.¡± Che replies sluggishly. It¡¯s possible he may have had a bit too much to drink for his liver to handle. Darcy only scoffs at his degeneracy in the face of immediate danger. But being the good saint that she is, she says nothing, and Che is graceful that she is a good subordinate that knows what and what not to say. ¡°The Federation assaults are getting more and more aggressive. The first few defensive lines have collapsed, in no time our local officers regret that we will need to fall back into the harbor itself. I¡¯ve already ordered some squads to cover the withdrawal, they just need time.¡± Che groans, and steps outside of the tent past Darcy. Indeed, there has been a lot of progress in setting up improvised barricades. Several lines of defense consisting of rundown vehicles, slabs of metal taken from nonoperational ships, small organized piles of sandbags, and blocks of pavements on small wagons. The dockyards have basically been turned into a fortress. But if the Federation so much as gets even a small cruiser in here, then it¡¯s all over. ¡°Darcy¡­ do we have any artillery pieces or the like in the colony somewhere?¡± Che asks but does not look back at her, ¡°even just uninstalling guns on some of the ships that have been put out of action can be useful for anti-ship batteries. If we add them to the defenses, we can give the Federation a hell of a time if they dare send any ships into the entrance.¡± ¡°I will see what I can do, captain, if that is all, I will be on my way.¡± And with that, Darcy walks past Che, but with one leg on the vehicle¡¯s footstool, she looks back at Che. ¡°¡­By the way, I almost forgot to mention. The most forward unit reports an interesting discovery; a good number of the Federation fleet has moved on to the direction of L¨¹beck. Should we attempt a breakout?¡± Che should not find it surprising that they would split the fleet. In fact, he is moresurprised they stuck around for so long rather than secure L¨¹beck¡ªwhich is more or less ripe for the taking. If Simon sees an enormous fleet then he would have no choice but to surrender¡ªand then the Don and Li would be even more backed into a corner than they likely are now. Not even Li¡¯s majestic tactile could get them out of that situation. The Year 217 Mafia would be dismantled. But even if they attempted a breakout now¡­ it would only end up in vain. They might be able to successfully break out through the siege, but they would not be able to break through the fleet heading for L¨¹beck. It would be tantamount to slaughter once the sailing fleet turns around and finishes them off with ease,since they won¡¯t be holding civilians essentially hostage. And there¡¯s no use in fooling the Federation twice¡ªthey have total dominance of the entrance now, it would not justify the enormous losses if they attempted it in the first first-place. Darcy looks at him questionably, awaiting an answer. But before long Che deflates with an annoyed sigh, ¡°no, we will not. It is too risky. We will keep the fight here¡ªI still have hope that Li or the Don will come for us. They have to. I am fully confident the messenger accomplished his mission. It¡¯s not worth the risk of sacrificing more and more lives for a pointless endeavor.¡± Darcy sighs in resignation, then hops on the passenger cart and orders the driver full speed in the direction of the crumbling battle-lines, leaving Che alone at the tent with empty bottles of rum rolling past his feet. If Li was here¡­ what would she do? Stand her ground and fight in the harbor, or retreat into the colony to fight a guerrilla war? No¡­ Che ponders, by that point the civilians would rise in support of the Federation. Che¡¯s migraine only pounds harder, it¡¯s getting way too out of control for him to handle. Rather than sulk around in a tent devoid of things to ease the pain, Che walks over to the bustling hospital ward devoid of life and full of misery. Rows upon rows of makeshift beds or bedrolls, each with bandaged patients¡ªsome with poorly amputated limbs. Cries of their mothers and deathbed confessions fill the lingering air, and Che can¡¯t help but feel sorry for them. It is because of his actions¡ªor lack thereof¡ªthat they suffer¡­ and yet they fight on. They fight on because he instilled into them hope that help will arrive. He gave them suffering and he gave them hope. Hope that theMadame Scarface or the Don will come any moment now¡ªthat there will be much rejoice and celebration when the time comes¡ªif it comes. But it doesn¡¯t. Someone grabs Che¡¯s leg. A little startled, he recoils slightly but relaxes when it was the grab of a scrawny fellow heavily bandaged, except for one of his eyes and stomach. A nurse that was attending to him tries to pry the arm off, but the bandaged man resists him. ¡°Tell me, captain¡­ Dong Che.¡± The man croaks, staring with such tension with his beady eye that makes Che uncomfortable, ¡°will we¡­ will the Madame ever come? Will our efforts be in vain? I don¡¯t want to¡­ I don¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t want to¡­¡± He trails off with tears forming in his eyes. Sweat soaks his bandaged head. ¡°I don¡¯t want to die¡­ I don¡¯t want my friends to die¡­I want to¡­want to live for the Madame¡­¡± The man¡¯s grip tightens as he chokes on words¡ªor blood. Che knees next to him, and after exchanging glances with the nurse, Che turns his attention back to the patient. ¡°Li¡ªthe Madame will come. I¡¯m sure of it. I am absolutely sure of it. So don¡¯t go dying on us now, you hear me? Live for our sake¡ªlive for her sake.¡± Che utters trying to avoid being moved to tears. Che clasps the man¡¯s bandaged hand, ¡°I won¡¯t forgive you if you die so easily¡­ you have to survive, whatever it takes!¡± Che can just barely see it, but through the lining of the bandages he can make out the injured men forming a subtle smile. ¡°You¡¯re a¡­ bad liar, Che¡­ but¡­ it¡¯s that kind of thinking¡­ that¡­ gives us hope.¡± The man¡¯s clasped hand goes limp, and his eye gently closes, his head rolls to the other side. Che gets up and steps back to let the nurse revive the man, but it seems to be in vain. There¡¯s nothing to do now for him. There¡¯s nothing to do for any of them now. Che has gotten them into this mess, and he is unable to get them out of it without needless sacrifices. Che looks up at the various barricades being assembled¡ªand the ever-shrinking front-lines in the dock¡¯s vast entranceway. It¡¯s all up to Li now. Chapter 35: Memories of Toscana | The Bataans Luck...
NEAR THE HYPERLANE POINT TO L¨¹BECK
THE BRIDGE OF THE DESTROYER MSN BATAAN
The leading sailor¡¯s big opaque glasses gently slides down the young man¡¯s nose as he struggles to keep his head up. Each time he jolts straight up, his eyelids feel heavier by the minute. Just for a little bit, he thinks as he diligently pretends to keep a watchful eye on the dark green radar monitor, I¡¯ll close my eyes for just a little bit, nothing could possibly happen anyway, right? The commencement of operation Lucky Alphonse meant that their destroyer, along with the rest of the sections, transitioned from general quarters to battle stations. The initial skirmish leading to Side Malabo, along with the physical strain stemming from the warp jumps from the Frankish Domain meant that the opaque glasses leading sailor and his comrades were tired. After some complaints openly done in earshot of superior officers, they were granted brief rotating shifts between bridge operators. Where the opaque-glasses leading sailor and his comrades were allowed to take timed naps in some of the sleep pods provided for them. There weren¡¯t a lot of the pods, maybe about twenty or so total for a destroyer that had a crew of around sixty or less. Ah, how the opaque-glasses sailor wishes he was stationed on a battlecruiser or even a battleship. Those ones, especially the newer models have luxurious sleep pods that knock you out real good, or so one of his friends on the Hualian said. The leading sailor is a bit jealous. His ship, the Bataan, was one of the hastily constructed ones from way back when the Metropolitan Navy made it¡¯s ill-fated journey maiden expedition to the Zonal region in 214. Or at least that¡¯s always what some of the veteran officers say. For some reason or another, the Bataan was always in the thick of the fighting in subsequent campaigns. There was always a stigma for ships that participated in the Zonal campaign, and the Bataan was no exception. Even so, it always emerged unscratched and victorious¡ªbut it usually received no recognition for such. He always heard stories about how it received its one and only damage from a direct hit to the ammo compartment¡ªand yet, amazingly, still survived. But the details of it are rather muddle¡ªsome say it shredded its way into the engine compartment, others say that the ordinance practically made a nestled home in the CO¡¯s quarters. Whatever the details may be, the missile was a dud and did not obliterate the ship. Oddly, it is one of the few ships commissioned in the original composition of the destroyer squadron that still sees service to this day. Her sister destroyers have all been out of commission and spend the rest of their lives as sad civilian vessels or have been outright destroyed in combat. The Bataan has gained the reputation of a cursed ship. It¡¯s a cursed ship that to this day has never once suffered even a minor hit. It¡¯s because of this odd curse that the Admiralty simply never bothered to find the time or effort to reward the officers and sailors of this ship with modernization despite all that she has done for the Federation. Even some of the veteran crew muse that this curse is a blessing in disguise, and the spectacled leading sailor And the leading sailor, as he groggily still struggles to keep his eyes trained on the green radar screen, is not one to disagree with them. He fades in and out of consciousness as he finds it a blessing that he will likely come home to a loving family in one piece. When this is all over, the sleepy leading sailor thinks as his head tilts forward one last time, his oversized glasses nearly falling off his face, I should take the Bataan¡¯s curse for granted, and find a girl to spend my life with. ¡°Four-eyes! What do ¡®ya think you¡¯re doing?!¡± The near monotonous voice of a certain always-snappy woman with red-mane hair snaps him back to reality. Quickly pushing his glasses upward, he turns partway in his cushioned seat to face her; sure enough, it is the freckled angry warrant officer that always breathes down his neck. Officer Freckles crosses her arms and gives him a sharp squint that unnerves the speechless Four-eyes. ¡°Well?¡± She leans in uncomfortably close to the young leading officer ¡°it¡¯s rude to stare and not respond to your superior, is it not?¡± ¡°Er, sorry ma¡¯am, I¡¯m still a bit sleepy from being pulled out of my sleep pod so soon, haha¡­¡± He replies a bit nervously. It was only an hour or two ago since his nap-turned-slumber was deactivated and he was pulled out by this red-maned warrant officer. Why is it always her? He can¡¯t help but wonder. Four-eyes probably won¡¯t ever admit it, of course, but he does have a bit of a crush on her. Well, perhaps that¡¯s pushing it too far. She¡¯s more akin to a mother away from his own. Maybe a concerned older sister? Well, she certainly is a few years older than him, most likely in her early thirties at the least. But Four-eyes knows better than to ask a woman her age. She continues to give him a mean stare. ¡°Perhaps I should throw you back into your sleeping pod and prime it for eternity?¡± She sneers, as she moves back from his face giving some breathing room. Maybe the term concerned older sister is pushing it. Maybe always slightly irritated aunt would be more appropriate. In any case, Four-eyes finds her cute despite her mean demeanor. It¡¯s also possible she¡¯s not engaged at all either, since he never saw a ring or anything. ¡°Haha¡ª I think I will pass. I can manage until my next scheduled break starts. I¡¯m sorry for troubling you, ma¡¯am.¡± Four-eyes answers as he does an adjustment of his glasses. Officer Freckles only lets loose a sigh, relaxes her angry brow, and similarly readjusts her folded arms. ¡°If you fancy yourself some coffee, I would not mind bringing you a cup of coffee. Just don¡¯t spill it on the console or I will prime ¡®ya in a sleep pod for eternity.¡± She says, but Four-eyes only shakes his head. ¡°Sorry ma¡¯am, but coffee isn¡¯t exactly my thing. It leaves a more bitter taste in my mouth than your insults do.¡± He says without a second thought and realizing what he said bites his tongue at the last moment. Officer Freckles nods but gives him another razor-sharp glare. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°What was that last part you said?¡± She suddenly demands, leaning in a little closer to him. Uh-oh. ¡°Er, it was nothing. Um¡­ do you happen to have any caffeine pills on you? I can stomach those easier than your insul ¡ªthe coffee.¡± Another bite of the tongue. Although the food inventory on the Bataan is generally decent¡ª since the logistics crew procured them from the Frankish planetary settlements¡ªthe Bataan ran out of the good coffee¡­ which is actually ersatz. And the Franks¡­ well¡­ let¡¯s just say their food is good, but when it comes to beverages their coffee beans are remarkably worse than even Metropolitan coffee substitute. And Four-eyes doesn¡¯t like creamer, either, which is equally bad in Metropolitan and Frankish supplies¡ªthe Frankish ones taste like they¡¯re always gone bad, and it¡¯s disgusting. With a sigh, the warrant officer scratches the back of her head and looks behind her at the business of the bridge. ¡°Unfortunately for you, I do not have some. Come to think of it, leaving ¡®ya alone with a cup of coffee near electronics will probably give me an earful of the commander until the end of days. I can always bug some off some other guy, but¡­¡± Freckles leans in again and grabs a nice handful of the leading sailor¡¯s cheek¡ªwhich she proceeds to brutally pinch, ¡°¡¯ya will owe me one,¡± after the sailor cries for mercy she lets go and wipes off her hand. Ignoring the man¡¯s silent whimper she continues, ¡°hopefully that will keep ¡®ya awake until your next break¡ªbut that aside¡­ now that I¡¯m here, has there been anything to report?¡± She asks about anything that might potentially come from L¨¹beck. As per its ugly tradition, the Bataan is in the vanguard of the contingent destined for L¨¹beck. Meaning that the destroyers in Bataan¡¯s squadron are, more or less, the early warning line for the rest of the unit. And the radar operators like Leading sailor Four-eyes are the first line of defense for the Bataan, who reports it to squadron capital ships, and so on. Even before Four-eyes took his nap, there were worries about a pirate relief force coming from L¨¹beck, or even the Ides star zone. But it seems between the time that the Malabo occupation succeeded, and the time he was rudely thrown out of his sleep pod¡ªthere hasn¡¯t been any new reinforcements from the Year 217 Mafia, let alone any response from the Madame Scarface. Many are relieved that it¡¯s pure chance she happened not to be at the Valspon system in the first place. And yet there¡¯s still grumbling that the pirates might send at least something, no matter how delayed their response may be. Some are worried about what the Madame Scarface or the Don are even planning¡ªthough it may simply be that they do not know. They could be waiting to lay an ambush in L¨¹beck in some way or another¡ªthey could even be pinned down along the Rouen corridor by other Federation forces. But Four-eyes thinks there¡¯s no possibility of a relief force materializing. Almost a full standard day has passed, and there has seemingly been no probing by the Year 217 Mafia. While quite a few get antsy over it, there are plenty of others among the Bataan¡¯s veteran officers and even those aboard the Yilan battlecruiser that share the sentiment. It seems some blonde junior officer from that ship demonstrated what would happen in the worst-case scenario if you split your fleet¡ªand there was a lot of grumbling that Chal made the wrong choices. But even so¡­ ¡°Erm¡­¡± Looking at the green radar screen again with tired eyes, there are only the familiar light green blips in staggered lines. There haven¡¯t been any chances whatsoever in the positions. No sudden appearance of a light red blip¡ªnothing. Why would anything happen now? Even if an enemy force foolishly warped in front of them¡ªboth the Bataan and the Federation detachment would make quick work of them. Even if that Madame Scarface warped in now, it wouldn¡¯t change a thing. There is nothing to worry about. ¡°No warrant officer, I have nothing new to report.¡± The freckled warrant officer gives a nod and tries to depart, ¡°but ma¡¯am¡­¡± she stops to look back at him questionably. ¡°¡ªThanks for checking in on me. I appreciate that you would go out of your way to always give me a scolding.¡± Warrant Officer Freckles turns a shade of red¡ªalmost as red as her auburn mane, but regains her composure. It seems she wanted to say something but the comment threw her off so much she only salutes and about-faces away. Huh, so even the always-snappy warrant gets a little flustered at times. Maybe she¡¯s just nervous that the other bridge crew might get the wrong idea about us, he ponders. The wrong idea about us¡­ Four-eyes leans back into his chair, eyes at the dull gray ceiling. His glasses gently slide up off his nose to his brow. The two of us, huh?¡­ Maybe it wouldn¡¯t hurt for Four-eyes to ask her out. The worst she can probably do is get a commanding officer to throw him in the brig for harassment, or god forbid actually follow through on her threat to put him in deep hibernation. But that¡¯s something to think about when this operation ends¡­ when they can finally go home and put this all behind them. As he continues to stare at the ceiling, Four-eyes hoped that the pinch he received would keep him awake, but the relaxed posture he was in¡ªwith his hands resting underneath his head¡ªwas making him increasingly tired again. There¡¯s no need for him to be on alert, anyway. The Bataan can manage. There¡¯s simply no chance that there could be a relief force now of all times. It¡¯s simply illogical. Even so, Four-eyes resists his stubborn eyelids from closing shut, but he can only hold out for so long. Eventually, his eyelids close for good. Just a little nap, Four-eyes thinks, it won¡¯t hurt the Bataan¡­ Chapter 36: Memories of Toscana | ...And the Bataans Curse ¡°¡ªOi, what¡¯s that? Is that¡­?¡± The concerned voice of someone makes Four-eyes jolt awake. Did someone glance at his station and call him out? Quickly looking around, it was obvious they weren¡¯t looking at him all¡ªthey were looking out the front cockpit. Four-eyes didn¡¯t believe what he was seeing at first¡ªhe sluggishly raises his arms to rub his eyes, and blinks several times¡ªbefore quickly shielding his eyes with an outstretched hand. Before now, the room was poorly lit. There was only the backlight of monitors and the occasional dimly lit ceiling lamps for lighting. But now the bridge was flooded with light. In fact, the illumination is so intense it stings even without looking at the direction of the light. When it subsides, and after his eyes finally adjust to the shining afterglow, Four-eyes freezes up when he realizes what was unfolding before his very eyes. There was a vibrant circular ripple of real-space that expands with each passing moment. At the center of the distorted space is an equally fast circular black hole that consumes the area left behind by the ripples. Strokes of lightning occasionally lash out indiscriminately. Both the Bataan and the rest of the destroyer section are so close that they could risk being caught whipped by them. Indeed, some destroyers must¡¯ve been hit by the lightning strikes already, causing some to seemingly lose control and drift out of the disciplined destroyer line. At first, Four-eyes didn¡¯t know what to make of it. But, much like the lightning lashing out before him, it soon struck him with realization. A warp exit point. This was a warp exit point. From the middle of the ever-expanding black-hole comes forth a single large ship¡ªpartially covered in ice¡ªbut whose encasing gives way as the ship emerges from warp-space. Even from the naked eye, it was easy to tell from the design that it was a¡­ ¡°A-A Federation battleship?! From L¨¹beck ?¡± Someone cries out in complete surprise. ¡°H-how could this be? Radio operator! What does your system say?!¡± It was the bridge officer barking the order to Four-eyes, who frantically adjusts his glasses and nearly throws himself on the console surface. The single blip in front of the near-collapsed line¡­ ¡­Was light green . There¡¯s no mistaking it. A light green blip with a small subtitle identification bearing MSNBB49. ¡°There¡¯s no doubt about it, sir, that is a Federation ship!¡± Four-eyes cries out to the bridge officer. There is loud confusion in the room as nobody can make any sense of it. ¡°A Federation battleship¡ª emerging from L¨¹beck ?¡± The bridge officer repeats in horror, confirming the fact that it is, indeed, a Federation battleship, ¡°this doesn¡¯t make any sense¡­ perhaps¡­ they expected to mop up resistance from Valspon?!¡± Unsure of what to make of the situation, the bridge officer paces around, before stopping to point at one of the other bridge staff. ¡°See if you can patch us through that battleship! I will go and see where the CO and XO ar¡ª¡± ¡°There is no need for that, we came as soon as we saw a blinding light,¡± the voice of the long-bearded ginger-haired commander cuts off the alarmed bridge officer, ¡°what is going on?¡± He inquires in a harsh tone with a sharp gaze fixated on the lone Federation battleship. Generally, this would be the time for formal salutes; but there is none of it. The bridge officer clears his throat and presents himself before the commander. ¡°Sir! A single ship we identified as a Federation battleship has emerged from a warp exit point without prior warning or so much as a hail yet¡­¡± Commander Ginger nods and strokes his beard. ¡°What are your orders?¡± The bridge officer asks diligently although still visibly shaken by the warp jump. Commander Ginger crosses his arms, and shifts his eyes between the Federation battleship and his men, ¡°I take it we have yet to establish communications with the battleship?¡­¡± The bearded commander asks, and the bridge officer looks back at the communication operator who also shakes his head. ¡°¡ªDo we know if any of the other ships have been able to contact the battleship?¡± The communications operator again shakes his head no. Commander Ginger once again strokes his beard in ponder, ¡°¡­perhaps it¡¯s communication systems have malfunctioned? And the warp exit point¡­ it¡¯s still active?¡± All eyes trained on the now herculean-sized rift that existed just behind the Federation battleship. The occasional strike of lighting manifests around it. Could more ships be coming? Four-eyes finds it rather odd that this ship only arrived by itself. They were taught in intermediate classes that it was a part of Federation doctrine to have destroyer screens in front of the main battle-line¡ªeven during warp jumps¡ªto ensure that a bridgehead could be established ahead of the host that yet to reinforce the position ¡ªif the circumstances permitted it. A battleship arriving by itselfahead of the accompanying screen is rather concerning. It could be that there were an awkward scramble and inexperienced officers at play. But whatever the case¡­ ¡°Has there been any incoming transmissions from L¨¹beck? If the Federation has already taken it¡­¡± The commander trails off. He stops stroking his beard and burrows his thick brow. His squinting eyes darted to Four-eyes, ¡°you are sure that it is identified as a Federation battleship?¡± The commander asks, to which Four-eyes bobbles his head, after which Commander Ginger directs another question to the bridge officer, ¡°see if you bring up an enhanced visual of the Federation and display it on the mainframe screen.¡± The bridge officer barks the order to one of his subordinates, who then swiftly showcases a zoomed-in image of the lone Federation battleship. Four-eyes cranes his neck to get a glimpse of it¡ªand then confusion sets in. It is, sure enough, a Federation battleship through and through. But the battleship looks like a much older model judging from its design. The ones Four-eyes has seen are, without a doubt, more modern. But there¡¯s something about it that feels off¡­ but Four-eyes can¡¯t place his finger on it. ¡°That hull coating¡­ it looks rather¡­ decayed, does it not?¡± The musing voice of Warrant Officer Freckles echoes the thoughts of the bridge. Indeed, for the most part, the coating looks undeniably deteriorated. Just thinking about it makes Four-eyes shudder at the thought of Freckles or another superior breathing down their necks for poor maintenance duties if that happened to be theBataan. The Admiralty may not care about this dinky little destroyer, but the Bataan¡¯s staff certainly do! But it was the stripes of darker, clean looking coating that made Four-eyes confused. It¡¯s baffling why the crew of this battleship would have a bizarre design of black lines over the lighter coating, which looks deliberate and not just half-assed. Something about it makes the hair on Four-eye¡¯s neck stand up. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. The somewhat composed voice of the ginger commander breaks the eerily spell. ¡°¡ªWhat is that battleship¡¯s identification bearing?¡± Four-eyes breaks free from his trained sight on the battleship and looks down at his green radar screen. MSNBB49. Metropolitan Space Navy Battleship number forty-nine. With a clear of his throat, Four-eyes repeats the bearing out-loud for the bridge to hear but it proves to be too difficult¡ªhis mouth is suddenly inexplicably dry ¡°S-sir!¡­um¡­ the hull bearing¡­ i-is¡­ ¡ªMetropolitan¡ªSpace¡ªNavy¡ªB¡­ b-battleship nu¡ªnumber forty-nine.¡± Four-eyes utters in-between constant clearing of his throat, and when Four-eyes turns to look back at Commander Ginger¡­ the color has completelydrained from his face. His mouth is left ajar, and his deep-blue eyes are wide in terror. Looking around, most of the veteran officers are similarly in deep shock. ¡°BB49¡­¡± The ginger commander utters, ¡°the¡ª Jaguar¡­ it cannot¡ª it cannot be! ¡±His pupils twitch with each word. Suddenly he breaks free of the paralyzed spell and extends an arm toward the bridge, ¡°ALL HANDS! LEVEL ONE BATTLE STATIONS! CLOSE THE SHUTTERS AND¡ª¡± ¡°S-SIR! Another ship is emerging from the warp point!¡± Someone cries out, and once again, all eyes are trained toward the black hole. A slim, jet-black ship emerges next to the BB49, which seems to be of near-equal size. The gaze of the spectacled leading sailor falls once again to the green order, and his breath comes in short bursts. A bright red blip. The bearing merely says MF-000; Mafia-Force number Zero. This is a bearing Four-eyes knows is more familiar with unlike that of the battleship. His red-mane warrant officer leans into the screen next to him and gasps in terror. ¡°S-sir!¡± She nearly cries out as she pulls herself back and reels around to face the other bridge crew, ¡°Th¡ªthat ship!¡ªIt¡ªit¡¯s the¡ª¡± ¡°The Madame¡­ Scarface¡­¡± Commander Ginger finishes for her in a defeated tone, having already resigned to sink into his captain¡¯s chair, his arms visibly shaking on the chair¡¯s armrests. His eyes have gotten so sunken it almost looks like he is completely sleep-deprived. Per the commander¡¯s order, a deafening siren goes off as a masculine voice announces ¡®all hands to battle-stations¡¯. It is soon accompanied by the wailing of the metal rollers as they descend to cover the open windows. ¡°M¡ªmore ships are emerging from the warp points!¡± Someone screams pointing ahead, and Four-eyes looks on as dozens¡­ hundreds, perhaps even a thousand ships partially encased in ice emerge from various points across the herculean black hole. Some of the lightning whips seem to get even more ferocious. Some of the lightning has gotten so intense that it coils around the Bataan. But the radar... it didn''t show any new blips. It was still the same two... ¡°Four-eyes! You imbecile! Get away from the control panels!¡± Officer Freckles screams as Four-eyes suddenly finds himself thrown from his chair¡ªright before his station is overloaded from electrically and nearly blows up. Before he knows it, Freckles has him pinned down underneath her. Her locks of hair nearly block his vision. The Bataan nearly rocks around as it seems to spiral out of control, causing both Freckles and Four-eyes to roll around on the floor like rag dolls. The siren and announcer are cut short by near darkness and cries of wounded men unlucky to escape the electric shock caused by the warp¡¯s whips. Four-eyes can make out someone barking orders¡ªbut he can¡¯t decipher what they¡¯re saying. The throw from Freckles makes it impossible to regain any of his senses back. And speaking of which¡­ His glasses must have been thrown off since it¡¯s hard to even look around¡ªeverything is a borderline blur. He can barely make out the red-maned warrant officer still clenching him closely, and even registers the fact that she is slapping his cheek repeatedly. ¡°Four¡­ eyes¡­. Oi! Four-eyes¡­ ¡®ya can¡¯t die yet¡­ ¡®ya can¡¯t¡­¡± From what Four-eyes can tell, she¡¯s probably tearing up. Huh, he ponders at the back of his mind, so even this always-snappy irritated aunt figure can cry, fancy that. Using what strength he can muster the leading sailor blindly searches his immediate surroundings for his glasses¡ªand finally manages to slip them on after enough effort of trying. He feels droplets of wet tears splash his cheek and glasses. Officer Freckle looks hopelessly sad all right. She has her mouth puckered in an effort to stop the tears but it is useless. They have flowed down her beautiful light cheeks down onto him. Finding that his strength was slowly coming back to him he clasps the hand that was slapping him, and Freckles tries her best to halt the tears. There were still others barking others to others on top of men screaming, but Four-eyes didn¡¯t particularly care anymore. The Bataan¡¯s curse is going to get the best of them in the end. Likely, he will never return home and find someone to settle down with. What a waste. ¡°Warrant Officer¡ªNo¡­¡± Four-eyes blinks several times to reprocess what he wants to say; a lot of crazy thoughts were swirling around in his head owing to the fact that they will die any second now. ¡±¡ªNia Spiegel¡­ this might sound strange, but¡­ I like you. I¡¯ve¡­ always¡ªliked you, like, a lot. Even if we die right now, I just wanted to know¡­ did you like me too?¡± Four-eyes ask with a quivering voice. Nia makes a lot of funny faces¡ªa brow that raises and falls. Eyes that dart around like in those pong games Four-eyes played when he was younger¡ªand her entire face is graced by a luminescent blush almost as red as her flowing hair. ¡°Yes¡­ yes, I do, ¡®ya dolt.¡± ¡°Would you like me enough that¡­ if the Bataan survives and we make it home, you¡¯d want to marry me and bug me for the rest of our lives?¡± He asks with nothing to lose. There¡¯s no way the Bataan will survive through the likes of the Madame Scarface. It¡¯s those words that cause Nia unable to contain the floodgates of tears anymore. She lowers her face onto his chest and squeezes his hand. ¡°Yes¡­ I¡¯d be happy to tak¡ª¡± Her words are drowned out by sobbing, and Four-eyes places his arms around her. Even if he and Nia were going to perish any moment now, Four-eyes is relieved he got to spend his final moments with the one he loves. Chapter 37: Memories of Toscana | The Toscana Reception
¡°Numerous enemy signals confirmed in front of us!¡± A rather excited subordinate announces to the rest of the bridge. ¡°We caught the Feddies with their pants down!¡± Gradually, discipline begins to break down. There are a lot of excited yells and hollering as the men get far too excited over this revelation. But¡­ I don¡¯t blame them. They have had no outlet up until now¡ªand to catch this many Federation ships off guard¡­ not even I can help but sneak a smirk. If I have to be truthful, I never intended to counter the Federation in such a sad state. There are either divine powers at play, or the Federation military is in no short supply of ambitious idiots and shortsighted buffoons. If I was facing a Federation commander with a cool head on his shoulders, I do no doubt that in a situation like this I would be obliterated¡ªand despite Olga¡¯s genius plan, we pulled through. I never quite believed in the phenomenon of coincidences, but to repeat what a fellow said¡ªwe certainly did ¡®catch them with their pants down¡¯. But still. The crew is getting far too rowdy. I glance over them for a split second which is all it takes for them to settle down and get back to work. It¡¯s good for them to want to release some stress, but I¡¯d much prefer it if we stipend as much as we can. Said energy will need to be preserved for the forthcoming force march back to the Velksland system. In some ways, my men are no different¡ªit seems there is an equal distribution of idiocy throughout the Orion Arm¡ªthe Mafia is no exception. Some things just can¡¯t be helped. It was Olga who pitched the idea of warping in first. I objected to it, of course¡ªit was too dangerous. I figured it was obvious that the Taiga¡¯s old-fashioned transponder would be seen through¡ªand to my actual shock, the Federation was fooled by it. And they were fooled long enough for my fleet to reinforce the Taiga¡ª I expected a bitter counterattack, but it seemed the destroyer squadrons directly in front of us crumbled rather easily. Even now, it seems the Federation is attempting a defensive retreat to give some distance between us for their optimal missile barrages, but some fired off prematurely¡ªthough they were done so in a panic, so thankfully we have not suffered any real damage. I stroll to the communications operator who looks up from his monitor in surprise and stumbles to give me a chest salute, to which he asks, ¡°Y-you wish to transmit orders to the fleet, Madame?¡± It will be a little difficult, of course. Except for the Castelforte, the Taiga, and Sergi¡¯s Hugh all our transponders are more or less left behind in Velksland, we will need to do wired transmissions¡ªwhich can leave us slowed down a fair bit. I can only pray that Olga and Sergi¡ªas well as the other ship captains, are capable of their own decision making. They will need to have orders in advance and decide from there on the best course of action. We have to keep momentum, no matter what. ¡°Transit a wired signal to the other ships to stick close to those destroyer screens¡ªand then advance through to the cruisers and those battlecruisers. We have the advantage in close range weaponry.¡± I inform the operator. I glance over at the holographic map and it¡¯s obvious that the latter two formations are not yet aware of the carnage at the vanguard. Who knows if the formation commander will risk the collateral damage and fire on his men¡ªI can only imagine they would have the justification if it means to take me down¡ªand if they take me down¡­ then Simon and the others are finished. But this is a Federation armada. They¡¯re humane in their methods¡ªnot a colonial armada like the Ruthenians, who would surely take the chances. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. The operator picks up the receiver, but frowns and looks back at me questionably, ¡°¡ªis that all, Madame? Surely you have more in mind¡­¡± ¡°Now that you mention it, I almost did forget something.¡± I cross my arms and glance over again at the display. It seems some hot-headed captains arrived at the same conclusion and leisurely helped themselves to serve justice onto their Federation intruders¡ªwhich included ramming straight into them. Typical. And that makes me frown. ¡°Actually, yes, if the captains can help it, I want to empathize that ramming tactics should be kept to a minimum. Use close-range weaponry when available. And under no circumstances¡­¡± I turn my gaze back to the operator who shrinks under my glare, ¡°should we ever do boarding parties. Those will slow us down. I can¡¯t risk us missing even a second of this momentum gained by the battleship deception.¡± With an affirmative nod, the operator relays the order into his receiver, and soon after shuttles are dispatched to the other ships to relay orders with their wired connections. ¡°While we¡¯re at it,¡± I turn to some of the other operators, ¡°open a channel to Sergi and Olga. I need to ensure they are aware of these plans as well. It will be easier to relay orders that way.¡± Moments later, a dual display of Olga and Sergi show up on the bridge¡¯s mainframe computers, who both give the customary chest salutes. ¡°Madame?¡± The two asked in unison. ¡°I¡¯ve already sent out messengers informing the fleet. Actually¡­ it¡¯s embarrassing to admit as it didn¡¯t occur to me to do this earlier¡­ I will need your cooperation to keep communication open with your squadrons. Push as close to the Metropol lines and penetrate as deep as you can¡ªthe deeper the better,¡± I pause as the two of them make faces but regain their composure when they realized I take notice, ¡°¡­our cannons should be more than enough to make quick work of the ships we pass through to the battlecruisers. I stressed this to the other captains¡ªbut do not ram the Federations if you can help it¡­ or initiate any boarding parties¡ªthat is all. It is likely I will be unable to maintain communication with the two of you as this battle develops, so I trust the two of you will be able to make autonomous decisions.¡± And with that, we end transmissions. Making my way to the radar staff, they give me cool glances and even more casual salutes. ¡°Were you able to gather any information on where the other Metropol fleets are?¡± I ask, and the two of them exchange relaxed looks. ¡°There¡¯s a lone detachment¡­ smaller than this one¡­ at the Ides hyper-line point. They¡­ haven¡¯t made any moves towards us yet. There does¡­ seem to be a fleet¡­ as large as this one¡­ camped outside Baltit¡­ that still hasn¡¯t sent¡­ a relief¡­¡± One of them says slowly and clearly. For some reason I find it oddly aggravating that he speaks this way, but he¡¯s one of the best technicians I have and Simon has vouched for him, so it can¡¯t be helped. ¡°Thank you, you may carry on.¡± But, regardless, it is good news. If we overrun the Federation lines then this skirmish will be over before we know it¡ªand even if the fleet slips away, it will have suffered enough damage so that it won¡¯t be a problem even if we ambush the Ides formation next. ¡°Get our ship to the front-lines as close as possible¡ªI don¡¯t want a single ship cowering in the rear. We either devote everything we have or the cowards will get picked off by range!¡± The men grunt affirmatively, and I retire to my comforting chair at the top deck of the bridge. So long as either Olga or Sergi don¡¯t do anything too reckless, we will get through this without trouble. Chapter 38: Memories of Toscana | Into the Dark
THE YILAN
There is still time before general quarters starts, so the Yilan crew are given the chance to relax before our contingent force makes the jump to L¨¹beck. Or so I want to believe. Friederika and I were summoned before Lieutenant Prince Plotte, who crosses his arms and stares us down with a furrowed brow. ¡°Alright you two, I¡¯m not going to let you guys just diddle-daddle any longer,¡± he begins ¡°I need you two to keep yourselves preoccupied before GQ starts.¡± ¡°Sure¡­¡± I respond laconically, ¡°but what did you have in mind, Prince?¡±Friederika doesn¡¯t say anything herself but only looks at me out of the corner of her eye. Prince steps forward and places a hand on my shoulder. ¡°Ensign¡­¡± he utters while suppressing an agitated sigh ¡°I wish you would drop that habit already. I do not wish to have to waste my energy disciplining you over this.¡± ¡°Discipline me over what, Pluto?¡± I ask feigning ignorance. Friederika can¡¯t help but scoff a little and Prince withdrawals his hand and proceeds to slap himself on the face. ¡°Oh, brother¡­¡± Prince complains, taking a step back and turning around to get two tablets from a table. The personnel nearby glance in amusement trying to make sense of the shenanigans. ¡°Forget it, Ensign Happ¡ªfor now, I want the two of you to take note of our inventories and submit a report to me by 1700,¡± Prince thrusts the tablets into my open hands and hands the other one to Friederika, ¡°as accurately as you can, divide the responsibilities if you need to. I better not check in on you and find you two slacking off,¡± he says shooting me a glare. Talk about attitude. Ignoring Prince giving me a hard time, I turn the tablet on and wait for it to do a bootup sequence. ¡°Is there anything in particular you want us to inspect?¡± I ask Prince. ¡°Food, munitions like small arms and missiles¡­ hmmm, energy reserves¡­¡± Prince lists off wryly, ¡°Commander Buttermilch wants to keep track of what we have a surplus of and what we may need to request from our supply ships¡ªoh, it might be beneficial to get a personnel head-count from department heads¡­now then I¡¯ll dismiss you for now: remember, 1700.¡± Prince gives us a salute and sees Friederika and me off. Friederika and I step off the conveyor at a four-way intersection. ¡°Kiki, you want to handle the missile munitions and missile department heads, and I¡¯ll handle the food storage and armory?¡± I ask Friederika. She nods, ¡°yup! Sounds like a plan to me,¡± she says but then pauses to rub her neck ¡°hmmm¡­ what about the engines?¡± ¡°Oh¡ªyeah good point, umm¡­¡± I cock my head to the side ¡°wouldn¡¯t hurt to meet back here and check it together? I¡¯m sure the lieutenant wouldn¡¯t mind too much.¡± Friederika cracks a smile, ¡°I can see it now¡ª¡± she puffs out her chest, hands-on-hips, and purses her lips in an attempt to imitate Prince ¡°¡¯what I tell you! It shouldn¡¯t take two numb skulls to check something so simple like the engines!¡¯¡± She says mockingly, and we laugh it off. ¡°That should be fine though¡ªbut it¡¯s your funeral, not mine,¡± Friederika replies and with that, we go our separate ways for the time being.
First up is the mess hall. It¡¯s mostly devoid of people save for the odd person or two having a hearty discussion. I scoot my way past the tables and the other patrons for the serving counter where I hope to meet the lunch lady. Peering over the counter, though, I come up short with the well-toned lady. Did she take a break or something? I turn back to approach the sailors. When they see me they stop and give me unnerving stares, ¡°h-hey, uh¡­sorry to interrupt you guys¡ª¡± I clear my throat and try not to be deterred by their stares ¡°have you seen the cafeteria lady at all? I need to talk to her about our food inventory,¡± I ask the two of them while I brandish my tablet. ¡°Ah¡­ the petty officer? Petty Officer Margot I believe¡­¡± the light-haired one with a stubble beard says as he exchanges glances with his friend ¡°I believe she went off a while ago to take care of some errands. No idea when she might get back.¡± Well, that complicates things a little. Usually, non-culinary personnel aren¡¯t allowed in the kitchen but I can always just tell her later that it was to keep track of inventory. And with that, I thank them and head off back to the serving counter area for the door leading into the kitchen area. I place a hand on the doorknob and gently turn it expecting it to be locked¡ªbut to my surprise, it isn¡¯t. ¡°Well¡­ it¡¯s not like I¡¯m breaking in or anything¡­¡± I muse before walking into the kitchen. ¡°Breaking into exactly what, hun?¡± An overbearing voice from behind makes me tense up straight. I spin around to find the muscular-build Margot standing in the doorway, arms crossed and frowning. ¡°Heee¡­¡± I utter shielding myself with the tablet, ¡°I-I¡¯m sorry petty officer, I-I was ordered by Lieutenant Pluto to inspect our inventories of various stuff, please don¡¯t hurt me¡­!¡± ¡°Lieutenant¡­. Pluto? ¡± Margot asks in an unsure way, scratching her chin ¡°I don¡¯t remember there being a¡­¡± ¡°Lieutenant Prince Pl¡­te,¡± I say, hoping she would get the hint. I peak over the tablet to see her rolling her eyes with a smile. ¡°Ahhh, that Plotte! Haha¡­ I see, I see¡­ and I guess little Plotte was giving you lasses a hard time,¡± well, I¡¯m not exactly sure how she arrived at that conclusion¡­ ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to give him a hard time later,¡± Margot says cracking her knuckles with such pops that it sends a shiver down my spine, ¡°but never mind that! Did you want to give my store a quick eye? No prob!¡± She says and grabs the tablet out of my hands, ¡°let¡¯s see if I can remember how to¡­ hmmm¡­¡± she walks past me and glances over all the serving trays, then she jabs at the tablet a little too hard and walks out of view. A few moments pass and she returns with a beaming smile. ¡°There ya go, Happ! I think it should all be up to date now,¡± she says and thrusts it into my hands¡ªthen spins me towards the door and pushes me along, ¡°come by later and get some more of my tofu, will ya?¡± She says with that grin of her. Oh, right, I didn¡¯t break the bad news to her that Friederika consumed it all for herself. ¡°Er¡­¡± I start and spill the bad news to her. The smile disappears and I swear I hear her click her tongue. ¡°That Trachenberg¡­ ah well, her hunger can be impossible to satisfy, but no matter! If she enjoyed it and didn¡¯t completely go to waste then that¡¯s fine and dandy!¡± She cheerfully exclaims, giving me yet another abusive pat on the shoulder. One of these days I¡¯m going to visit the doctor and find out I have a fractured shoulder or something. ¡°Sub-Lieutenant Trachenberg¡­ she¡¯s a keeper, y¡¯know? I could cook the lousiest dish and she will still eat it all with a big dumb grin!¡± Margot says chuckling at her joke. ¡°Make sure to tell the lieutenant, and the CO and XO, that we¡¯ll probably be good in our food stores for a few more days! Even then I can always contact the other culinary chefs in the fleet, so worry not! No sailor will starve on my watch¡ªI¡¯ll have you know I am quite efficient at being frugal. If it comes to it I can make you all suffer canned food!¡± She finishes with a roar of laughter.¡± Margot sees me off as I exit the cafeteria. ¡°Listen, Ensign Happ¡­ when this is all over, I¡¯ll give you and your friend the biggest servings I can feasibly put together¡ªenough to stuff Trachenberg to prevent her from stealing any of yours! I still have plenty of tofu leftover for the two of you to savor!¡± ¡°Thanks¡­ Petty Officer Margot, I appreciate the thought!¡± ¡°There¡¯s no need for formalities, Happ¡­ just calling me Margot will do.¡± She pats me on the shoulder this time¡ªa gentle one this time. ¡°Sorry if I¡¯m a little rough with you¡ªseems like I don¡¯t know my own strength sometimes, haha!¡± She gives me a gentle stroke.
While on my way to the first armory I pass by a group of people peering out the windows, all with confused expressions. ¡°What the bloody hell is going on out there?¡± One asks perplexedly. ¡°You think there was an accident?¡± Another one with an extraordinarilythick Francien accent asks his colleagues. Several murmurs follow suit, but I don¡¯t step off the conveyor to investigate for myself. But it¡¯s after a few moments of deciphering the accent did it occur to me what he said. The mental gerbils, after enough exhaustive running on their mental wheels, finally bring forth a conclusion: an accident? I step off the conveyor and trace my steps to the crowd of confused sailors. One of them takes notice of me and gives me some room to pass by, and I squeeze in to hug the glass so I can get a better view. In the distance somewhere ahead of our Yilan, I can barely make out dozens of ships that have passed through our destroyer lines¡ªor¡­ Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. What¡­ remains of it? It¡¯s such a confusing scene unfolding¡ªa mixture of ships I can¡¯t identify from here, and several squadrons-worth of allied vessels race towards us at unbelievable speeds, which is led by an oddly marked Federation battleship. Behind those ships are¡­ A lump forms in my throat. A lump so big it gets difficult to try and clear it. Behind the advancing ships are several drifting in place. But these are not just any kind of ordinary ships. Federation ships. Destroyed Federation ships. The tablet I have pressed against my chest shakes from trembling. I take a few steps back from the glass and the confused crow. Just what is going on? ¡°There¡­ there has to be a mistake. This can¡¯t possibly be¡­¡± I utter after a moment of silence. ¡°¡ªAn enemy force? Impossible¡­ our destroyer screen¡­¡± One of them trails off nervously. There has to be a mistake. There¡¯s no way¡­ how? If they happened to warp in, they would have been obliterated, and even then¡­even then, we would¡¯ve been sent to battle stations right away. And even assuming they didn¡¯t warp in¡­ they would¡¯ve been picked off advancing through the hyper lane. It would¡¯ve gone full circle to alerting the continent and scrambling to battle stations. And the Federation battleship¡­ it sends a shiver down my spine. Just what is going on?! Why would a Federation battleship come from the direction of L¨¹beck?! I tear away from the group and sprint for the bridge¡­ but slowing down another thought crosses my mind ¡ª should I find Commander Buttermilch instead? No¡­ I shouldn¡¯t go around looking for him this time. He¡¯ll definitely be at the bridge.
Along the way to the bridge are familiar sights of personnel falling under this spell that spreads like wildfire. Many are frozen in place, huddled around the windows looking in horror, shock, or surprise. But none say anything¡­ for there is nothing to say about this peculiar situation. When I finally arrive at the bridge out of breath and with weak knees, it is much the same. Commander Buttermilch is nowhere in sight, yet, but there is Lieutenant Plotte and Mazzareli¡ªboth are standing next to a technician who handles communications between ships, and all three look confused. ¡°Pl¡­Pluto! Mazzareli!¡± I limp over to them exasperated, and both turn worried gazes to me. ¡°Just¡­ just what is¡ª¡± ¡°A distress signal¡­¡± Mazzareli mumbles, placing a hand on his cap, ¡°the battleship is sending a distress signal¡­ but¡­¡± I tug on Mazzareli¡¯s sleeve as hard as I can, dying to know what he means. A distress signal? From the battleship? ¡°But¡ªbut what!?¡± I egg him in between breaths. Mazzareli shakes his head, unable to deliver an answer. ¡°¡­I can¡¯t make any sense of it¡­¡± Mazzareli mumbles ¡°there are no signals from those other ships¡­ other than the battleship¡­ MSNBB49¡­ where have I heard that before?¡± Mazzareli places a hand on the communications technician, ¡°have you been able to reestablish communications with theBataan, or any of the destroyers for that matter?¡± The young man shakes his head. ¡°There¡¯s still a signal disruption from that sector, I haven¡¯t been able to patch through. That MSNBB49 is just sending a one-way mayday signal.¡± ¡°I¡­ see, have you been able to pinpoint the ship that is scrambling communications?¡± The technician shakes his head again. Mazzareli only lets out a sigh. ¡°Keep trying, and let me know as soon as possible. Since Commander Buttermilch isn¡¯t here¡­¡± ¡°¡ªSay no more, lieutenant commander,¡± the stern voice of Buttermilch momentarily snaps everyone out of the spell and into stiff salutes. ¡°At ease everyone.¡± Buttermilch comes up from behind me and places a hand on my shoulder. It makes me feel somewhat relieved. ¡°What¡¯s going on that¡¯s turning all my men into stiff statues? Is there a cosmic Medusa turning everyone to stone?¡± If that was the commander¡¯s attempt at humor, it was just so bad that some men can¡¯t help but scoff at the lack of his comedic skills. ¡°It would seem¡­ that some force has swept through our destroyer section,¡± the lieutenant commander begins ¡°and that battleship is sending a distress signal,¡± I look up to Buttermilch¡¯s assessing expression change to worry. He makes his way over to the radar operator and likewise, we follow the CO there. ¡°Have we been able to identify the ships following it?¡± Buttermilch asks the man, and the technician glances over at his green radar screen and then back at Buttermilch. ¡°No sir! None of the ships within range seem to have any signatures. Only the battleship in particular has one: MSNBB49,¡± the operator says in a concise voice. Suddenly, it feels like the room has gotten colder. Moments pass by and we glance at Buttermilch, who stands there in total silence. Some more time passes by, and he blinks¡ªrapid blinks. ¡°¡­Can you repeat that ship¡¯s identification?¡± He says in a voice devoid of emoticons or warmth. ¡°Sir!¡± He glances over at the radar screen one more time as if to double-check it himself. I can only imagine he must be feeling uneasy having the commander doubt him. ¡°It is MSN¡ªB¡ªB¡ª4¡ª9,¡± the radar operator repeats while making eye contact with the commander¡ªa little louder and more pronounced this time. I look over again at Buttermilch¡­ and the hair on my body stands up straight. Never in my life have I ever seen someone so pale¡ªso devoid of color¡ªso much as Commander Buttermilch is now. A single bead of sweat inching down his face is slightly more colorful than his drained face. ¡°Commander¡­ Butter¡ª?¡± I ask nervously, but it does nothing to break his shock. ¡°The BB¡­.49¡­¡± he whisperers, his pupils have shrunk in size, and he shakes his head. A few steps back from us. He practically breaks into a cold sweat. ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± ¡°Sir!¡± Someone cries from the direction of the communications console, grabbing everyone¡¯s attention, ¡°I managed to get a transmission from theBataan! It reads: enemy force warped in front of us¡ªdestroyer section retreating. Recommended course of action: commence rearguard retreat to Commodore Chal Hugo¡¯s fleet. The enemy is lead by¡ª¡± ¡°S-S-SIR!!¡± The communications technician is interrupted by the radar operator, ¡°I-I¡¯m picking up another ship¡¯s signature! It¡¯s¡­it¡¯s¡­¡± ¡°The Madame Scarface!¡± Both console technicians shout in unison. ¡°Oh my god!¡± ¡°The Mafia?!¡± ¡°How can this be?!¡± The startled cries of the bridge crew make it impossible to think straight. My head starts spinning. The stiff spell is broken by a new hex of panic-induced terror. There¡¯s no way¡­ there¡¯s no way¡ª ¡°T-the Federation battleship is changing its trajectory! It¡¯s¡ªit¡¯s speeding right towards us!!¡± The radar technician cries out in terror. But nobody moves. Nobody says a thing. ¡°That¡¯s not a Federation ship¡­¡± Buttermilch utters ¡°that¡¯s a captured pirate ship¡ªthe Jaguar.¡± The Jaguar. The one that the Madame Scarface captured years ago. The very one that Buttermilch laments over not being to save. The one that compelled him to rise through the ranks in determination to be the change he wanted to be¡ªto be a commander that doesn¡¯t idiotic decisions that could cost the lives of the men under him. The very same ship that accelerates towards us. With each passing second, the sight of the Jaguar gets closer in view. With each passing second, the bridge crew is caught under a spell so intense that nobody can break free of it. With each passing second, my heart beats harder against my chest. It¡¯s not until it¡¯s less than a kilometer away from the Yilan does the bridge crew break free of the cruel hex. Many scramble for the doors. Others cling on for dear life on either railings or console surfaces away from the windows. Some shout to close the window shutters. But it is all in vain. A violent shake of the bridge nearly throws me off balance. The sound of screeching metal and glass shattering pierces my ears to such an extent it almost feels like they were blown out. ¡°ENSIGN!!!¡± A woman who was standing near me grabs hold of me and shields me from the windows¡ªfollowed by her shrieking out in pain as glass shards penetrate her from behind. And then¡­ Screaming. So much screaming. Oh my god; the screams. So much screaming and cries of terror. Screams and shrieks that drown out each other before they immediately become faint¡ªand then nothing. The woman uses all her strength to heave me toward the railing that was behind us. I find myself clinging on intently with all my upper body strength¡ªbut the woman is unable to do the same. The vacuum of space was pushing her away from me and the railing, and she could only afford to hug one of my legs. I can only afford to look back for a few seconds¡ªan expression of pain, fear, and shock¡­ and resignation to her fate. She tries to climb her way to the railing, and despite my efforts to lend her a hand, she slips¡ªand is sucked through the opening to space in tandem with the others who were not so lucky¡ªthose with legs ripped off, or legs bent inward from gravity boots not activating on time. It doesn¡¯t take long before I realize I can¡¯t breathe. My gasps for air are in vain. My throat becomes incredibly dry, my very skin and clothes become so cold¡ªcolder than the fiercest Aussie winters. Colder than the SideLepanto I visited on that academic trip a few years ago¡ªcolder than anything I¡¯ve ever experienced before. My lungs and heart burn with such excruciating pain it¡¯s almost unimaginable. I¡¯m going to die. I couldn¡¯t keep my promise to mom¡­ to father, or Alexandra¡­ I¡¯m going to die any moment now. I¡¯m going to die never to return home. I¡¯m going to die leaving behind a tombstone with no body to lay to rest. If I even do get a tombstone at all. I¡¯m going to die leaving my parents, Friederika, and Alexandra behind for decades to come. I can¡¯t bear to imagine how my parents would handle the news. It would devastate my father for sure. Oh blimey¡­ Friederika¡­ I¡¯m so sorry. My hugging grip on the railing lessens, and my consciousness begins to fade. There are still people yelling things, but I can¡¯t make it out anymore. I can just faintly hear the creaks and moans of shutters rolling down¡ªbut what difference does it make? The last thing I register before blacking out entirely is letting go entirely¡ªand then nothing. Chapter 39: Memories of Toscana | Taste of Death ¡ºAwaken.¡» A river of yellowish-green glitter illuminates the eternal darkness below me, which seems to be shallow and not too wide. The vein of light flows on, and on, forever and curves ever so slightly into the void. Hundreds of tiny orbs of light, akin in color to the flowing river, emit from the light vein upward. There is pure silence¡ªnot a sound of waves. Not a sound emits from the orbs floating upward. There is only the abyss and the contrasting yellow river that ebbs and flows through this strange place¡­ Just what is this place? Where am I? Who am I? Come to think of it, I am unable to move¡ªand it seems I do not possess a physical body in the first place. A physical body¡­ yes, it would seem I did have one, but it feels like a distant memory. Memory? Hm, no, that can¡¯t be right. Perhaps what I thought constituted as memory is merely a dream. Yes¡ªI was merely dreaming until now. A dream that dragged on and on with no apparent end. This place is all too familiar, as though I have been here for an eternity. A comforting place, a place devoid of fear or anxiety. A home devoid of pain and suffering. Yes¡ªhome. It feels like home. I¡¯m home and always have been. ¡ºRemember¡ªremember thyself.¡» Hm? That voice¡­ it sounds familiar¡ªand yet so alien. Was it a voice? What even is a voice? ¡ºRemember the past, lest you forget thyself.¡» It sounds warm, yet angry, yet childish¡ªit sounds like a million things at once. An old woman¡ªa young reassuring man¡ªa squeaky child and the coddling tone of a beautiful mother. It is a lot of things, and yet¡­ ¡ºDo not let go, Victoria. It is not thy time.¡» Victoria? Is that supposed to be me? There must be a mistake. It¡¯s an awful name. I am unworthy of such an eloquent name. Where have I even heard that name before? A part of me believes I am not this ¡®Victoria¡¯. I am me, and I do not have any possessions to let go of in the first place. I am content with where I am. ¡ºYou do not belong here. This is not thy home.¡» The voice of many is uttered all around me. The many voices echo and reverberate in this dark space. Behind me, in front of me, beneath and above me. In the distance, and a whisper in my ear. What a persistent and troublesome person. This is most certainly my home. Where else would I belong? There is nowhere else to go, don¡¯t you see? Maybe you should mindthy business and leave me alone! ¡ºBear witness to thy past.¡» Before I can even react¡ªbefore I can even protest, I am bombarded with a million imagery. It begins with a young babe with short golden hair. A youthful lass who experiences fun, pain, suffering, and everything else in between. A beautiful mother and father that takes care of her and tends to her bumbling injuries. Is this Victoria? Is this me? That¡¯s impossible¡ªI am me. I cannot be in two places at once. This Victoria is herself; I am me. This Victoria grows and experiences hardships of her own¡ªand friendship. Another lass enters her life, and the two of them share their pain and excitement. More and more people enter her life, and she experiences more and more emoticons. But eventually¡­ it stops. The imagery vanishes. This Victoria¡­ I can¡¯t deny it. But I feel like I know her. I¡¯m inclined to believe I know some of these people. Some of these events I am familiar with. Some of these hardships and obstacles in life I know for a fact I am acquainted with. They almost feel¡­ like fond memories. Was I mistaken, then? Were these supposed dreams¡­ real memories? Am I Victoria ? Then¡­ who am I now? What is my purpose here? What happened to me? ¡ºBear witness to the future that was. The future that could be. The future that will be¡ªand the future you have forsaken.¡» Another relentless barrage of imagery flashes before me. Familiar sights of large ships and the people that inhabit them. A familiar woman sobbing, collapsed, on top of¡­ Victoria? Hundreds of warships that are obliterated by a flashing beam of light that hurts my eyes. Unspeakably large objects that fall to imposing continents. A young woman that lies bleeding in a cockpit of sorts, a faint smile on her face as she peers into me. It¡¯s too much to take in. The horrors of these events leave me shocked¡­ but it never stops. They just keep going on and on. Is all of this¡­ is all of this because of me? Incomprehensible war machines that zig-zag across the eternal stars, leaving behind blazes of rays. Battles fought for meaningless grudges and purposes. People that die, and the people that send them to war. A cloaked woman that cradles another and questions why she had to die. A red-haired woman that collapses on a stairway of steps and bleeds out amid a crowd of panicked onlookers. ¡°Victoria¡­ I am sorry¡­ I could not¡­¡± The red-maned woman croaks with tears in her eyes, as she reaches out with an outstretched hand. Instinctively I reach out for her with an arm composed of mist. But before we can touch, the imagery vanishes once more. Why¡­ why did I reach out to that woman? Who was she? There is a nagging feeling that I knew her, but nothing comes to mind. The mist expands to encompass everything, masking even the river of yellow glitter and orbs. To my surprise, I seem to have materialized a body as well, with clothing that I know I recognize, but feels alien at the same time. My skin is pale, and I grab at bangs yellow in color. Am I¡­ am I?¡ª ¡ºBear witness to the future you have departed¡ªthe future of those you have abandoned.¡» Abandoned? My future? What do you mean¡ª The next thing I know, the mist dissipates, and I find myself in an unfamiliar world. Neatly organized rows and columns of headstones¡ª some obsidian, others marble white, many tall and others short but no two alike. It¡¯s still hazy so I cannot make out what any of them say. I seem to stand in front of one that resembles an obelisk, standing a few meters tall, blackish-green in color, but with no apparent design. There are several withered flowers at its base with a few food offerings. For some odd reason, I¡¯m familiar with it, but before I can step closer to it, a mature voice from behind stops me dead in my tracks. ¡°It¡¯s been a while¡­ Vicky¡­¡± The voice of a woman¡ªand it¡¯s far too familiar¡ªsuch so that a tingling sensation runs down my spine. I recoil and look at the speaker, and I feel a stinging sensation resonating from my chest. A woman with shoulder-length dark hair and signs of graying. Green eyes with overbearing sadness¡ªand yet she tries to maintain a stern face. She has pudgy cheeks and an even plumper body. She stares straight at me in silence that does not last long. ¡°I¡­ hope¡­ I hope you¡¯ll find it in you to forgive me for not visiting these past couple¡­ years,¡± The dark-haired woman says with a somber tone. With each word spoken, a lump forms in my throat and gradually gets bigger, and I simply cannot find it in me to reply. There¡¯s something about this woman that tugs at my heartstrings. But¡­ I can¡¯t process who she reminds me of. But then it hits me, and it hits hard. She¡¯s the one from those memories I saw. The one that stood by Victoria¡¯s side as she grew up. The one Victoria bonded with and the one Victoria shared her intimacy with. The one that caused Victoria pain but also gave her happiness. ¡°Friederika¡­ Friederika Trachenberg,¡± a voice that I barely recognize croaks, but Friederika remains undeterred, unresponsive to the utterance¡ª to my cry. She remains silent for a few moments but then shuffles forward. Without hesitation, I reach out to her. I reach out for Friederika wanting to relieve Friederika of her sorrow¡­ But I freeze once I see a small child behind her¡ªa little girl. A curious one with dark hair that resembles Friederika in many ways, and also reminds me of another¡ªbut I can¡¯t figure out who. ¡°Momma¡­? I¡¯m right here!¡± The curious little child, Vicky, says with perplex. The question stops the elder Friederika in her tracks briefly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Vicky¡­ I meant¡­ an old friend of mine. You can think of her as¡­¡± Friederika pauses to clear her throat ¡°you can think of her¡­ as your aunt.¡± ¡°My aunt?¡± Vicky tilts her head in ponder, trying to process what Friederika said, ¡°I have an aunt?¡± Friederika sighs, and phases through me toward the obelisk tombstone, and her daughter likewise ignores me as she follows Friederika. Dumbstruck by this, I turn around to Friederika and her daughter looking over the obelisk. ¡°Not by blood, but¡­¡± Friederika says trying to keep her voice clear ¡°she was like a sister to me. I named you after her¡­ well, her full name was Victoria. ¡°I loved Victoria so much¡­ I cherished her, Vicky¡ªas much as I cherish you. She meant the world to me¡ªso much more so than I love your father. Victoria¡­¡± Friederika kneels next to the headstone, and there¡¯s an increasing hint of sadness in her tone of voice. It almost cracks here and there. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°What happened to aunty Vicky?¡± The innocent child asks, tugging on her mom¡¯s sleeve. Friederika¡¯s head hangs low, and she places a hand on the sleek black surface. Curious, I take a few steps closer. ¡°Aunt Victoria¡­ she¡­ she¡­¡± Fredericka can¡¯t keep up the facade for much longer. Her tone gets heavier and heavier ¡°aunt Victoria¡­ aunty¡­ when the two of us enlisted in the space navy so many years ago¡­ so many years before I had you and married your father¡­ Vick and I were assigned on the same ship. Bad people¡­¡± Her voice is borderline trembling now, and I step closer to hear her broken voice ¡°bad people¡­ rammed into our ship¡­ and your aunt¡­ was killed as a result, and I couldn¡¯t¡­¡± Friederika¡¯s whole body shakes, as droplets of tears fall to the base of the tombstone. ¡°I couldn¡¯t be by her side in her last moments¡­ by the time¡­ I found out¡­ she was¡­ she was already gone, I never got to say goodbye¡­ I never¡­ I didn¡¯t realize¡­ I was devastated¡ªlike my world collapsed around me¡ªshe was gone, just like that. I¡­¡± she struggles to formulate any more senses over the tears, and I hear loud sobs coming from her ¡°I should¡¯ve stopped her. I should¡¯ve never left to do my own thing. It haunted me for the rest of my life¡ªa nightmare that never ends, a nightmare I live with every day. ¡°I always thought to myself; ¡®I should¡¯ve ignored orders and stuck by her side to prevent this¡­ I should¡¯ve done this or that instead, it should¡¯ve been me that died¡¯ and I lived with that for many years, Vicky¡­ but I fooled myself into accepting her death when I had you. I¡­ had to be strong for your sake, and daddy. Daddy¡­ daddy handled it his way, and it was much, much worse¡­ but we pulled through, because we wanted to be happy again¡ªand having you was our gateway to happiness¡­¡± Friederika embraces the tombstone amid tearful gasps. ¡°I miss her so much, Vicky¡­ I still long to be by her side¡­ things would¡¯ve been so different if¡­ if she lived. I miss her so, so much¡­ I always used to think¡­ if I had to choose between the Federation and Victoria¡­ I would¡¯ve chosen the Federation to die. Nothing mattered to me after she died¡­ until I had you.¡± As Fredericka weeps and Vicky hugs her mom in a half embrace, I could finally make out what the tombstone said and I take a step back in deep-struck horror. VICTORIA HAPP-SCHWARZENBERGER 203 - 220 A GOOD OFFICER MY BEST FRIEND I want to step forward and hug Friederika. I want to squeeze her tightly and reassure her everything will be okay. I want to bury my head into her back and tell her I¡¯ll never leave her¡ªand I¡¯ll always be her side, now and forever. But I can¡¯t. I am frozen in place. The little Vicky looks back at me. Her beady eyes stare into my very soul¡ªmy very spirit itself. From behind, a heavy weight presses down on my shoulder. I can¡¯t move my head or neck and thus cannot make out anything other than what appears to be a decomposed hand. ¡ºVictoria, it is not your time. Live. Live, and reject this false future.¡» It is unlike the mesmerizing voice of a legion speaking in tandem¡­ but rather a monotonous one, and one I recognize all too well. The voice of the Yilan commanding officer, Commander Buttermilch. ¡ºReturn to thy world.¡» Powerless to face Buttermilch directly, I can only focus on Vicky and the sobbing Friederika. Soon the world becomes enveloped in a dark purplish mist and the sight of the two vanish. The hand resting on my shoulder sinks into my body, painlessly but a little ticklish, and is thrust deeper into my chest¡ªand I feel a sharp pain as his hand wraps around where my heart would be. I can feel more hands sink into my back in what feels like two more hands caressing my lungs¡ª And then all three organs are squeezed. At the same time, it¡¯s as though they are getting clawed into. The intense burning pain makes me clench my eyes shut and cry out in pain¡ªbut I cannot move an inch of my body in self-defense. ¡ºLive.¡»
A noise that resembles a siren wailing continuously jerks me awake. It is hard to distinguish my surroundings at first due to it being pitch black. A brief, but intense red light illuminates the room every couple seconds, which is likely from the overhead emergency light. A million intangible thoughts are being processed all at once as I blink rapidly. Am I¡­ am I back on the Yilan?Still stuck in a paralyzed spell, I can only afford to process my limited line of sight. No, I never left. Unless¡­? I can make out the cold, metallic floor that I face down on. Ahead of me is the line of metal shutters that cover the windows¡ªthe furthest one from me has a few cracks on it. Yes¡­ that¡¯s right, if I remember correctly, theYilan was rammed¡­ rammed by the¡­ ¡ªIt abruptly occurs to me that I have not been breathing. I immediately flip myself onto my back using my shoulders and force myself to manually breath. My chest rises and falls with each intense gasp for air and I clutch my chest and neck in a vain attempt to keep my breathing stabilized. Live. Live and reject this false future. The words of the bizarre voice echoes at the back of my mind. Just¡­ what was that phenomenon? That river of glitter, an older Friederika, and her daughter, and¡­ Buttermilch. Although I did not see him, I somehow knew that was Buttermilch right away. Buttermilch¡­ I use all my strength to prop myself up with my arms. I¡¯ve been lightheaded this whole time, but it wasn¡¯t truly apparent until now. I groan as I give my head a massage. The siren certainly does not help, either. And speaking of which, what happened while I was unconscious? Or whatever it was that happened to me for that matter¡­ ¡°All hands to battle¡­stations¡­ this is¡­ NOT ¡­ A DRILL!¡± Over and over a masculine announcer blares over the speakers. But it¡¯s difficult to make out because of the overbearing siren drowning it out. The Jaguar. Almost at once, a wave of fear washes over me like a fierce tidal wave. The Madame Scarface caught us off by complete surprise. And now we¡¯re going to pay the price of ignorance. We¡¯re all going to die because of incompetent leadership. But¡­ I survived where others have died¡ªif only momentarily. But it will make no difference¡­ soon enough, the Scarface¡¯sforces will board the Yilan and either kill us all or take us prisoner. And people taken captive by the Madame are said to never be seen again¡ªin the rare cases they are given the chance to surrender without a fear of no quarters. But there¡¯s still a chance. We can get through this¡ªwe can still salvage this operation and save lives! We will get home alive! Although my body is still horribly trembling, I attempt to lift myself¡ª And get thrown back, landing on my back. A loud, metallic moan can be heard outside the Yilan¡ª but it¡¯s not against our ship. Could another ship have rammed against the Jaguar? Whatever the case, I just need to find Buttermilch so we can formulate a plan¡­ Buttermilch¡ªdid he get thrown out? I didn¡¯t see him after the bridge windows were shattered¡­ did he manage to brace himself? Did he die from oxygen deprivation? No¡­ it would take a lot more to take out an old guard like Buttermilch. There¡¯s no way he would have perished. It would be a cruel world if he lived and I died. He¡¯s the only one capable of getting us out of this mess. I try to call out to others, but I can¡¯t materialize anything. Only a tiny whisper that I can barely hear over the screaming siren. I try a couple more times¡ªand nothing. I¡¯m trembling too hard to even muster a voice. It¡¯s just not feasible. Each time I try to call out¡ªthe siren and announcer only exemplify. Left with no other choice, I push myself up and am greeted by a curtain of darkness. If I can¡¯t call out to others, then I will look for survivors myself. Right as I attempt to get on my feet, the emergency light basks the room with a bright red luminance. And my mind goes blank. Buttermilch can¡¯t die. There¡¯s no way Buttermilch can die. Buttermilch promised me we would all make it out alive. Karma works in strange ways. The voice of Buttermilch rings violently in my mind. History tends to play out peculiar when a certain actor is on stage. And yet I am left to wonder: is this, too, karma? Or is this simply fate? A long, blue rod with red substance dripping from a sharp end protrudes from the upper chest of a certain senior officer, A certain man who I, and hundreds of others, have put our trust into. The officer that was a by-the-book hard-ass. A man with intent to prevent any more catastrophe¡ªa man who spent years toiling away to avoid another Jaguar from happening. A man who, in his eyes, was naive, and wholeheartedly believed he could put an end to incompetence in the Admiralty. A man who looked over me at the behest of my ailing father. The man I hoped would get us out of this mess, one way or another. The one man capable of preventing Operation Lucky Alphonse from turning Unlucky. ¡°Commander¡­ Buttermilch?¡± I utter with horror. Chapter 40: Memories of Toscana | Cruel Thesis
Numbness. Nothing but sheer numbness. My world spins rapidly¡ªfaster, and faster still. A lump of despair forms in my throat. A blanket of hopelessness wraps around me¡ªconsumes me in a cold spell. The pounding of my heart is so resonating is nearly as loud as the siren itself. The half-open lackluster eyes of the former Yilan commander gaze at me. Out of the corner of his half-gape mouth, a drool of blood oozes out and paints his jaw red¡ªa darker shade of the flashing illumination. He must¡¯ve withered around in his dying moments as his posture is rather awkward; one leg lays straight as the other remains bent. One hand remains fixated on the base of the steel rod that had penetrated his chest as if attempting to pry it out. And his other hand¡­ The other hand reaches out for me. As if in his last minutes, Buttermilch wanted to make sure I was safe and sound. To make sure I lived¡­ to make sure he kept his promise to my father. And yet despite his eccentric pose, Buttermilch looks so calm. And yet it gives me dread. There is something about Buttermilch¡¯s calm demeanor that is unsettling. I try to rise, but my legs give out, and I collapse to my knees. Unable to get up, I can only afford to crawl slowly to the lifeless commander. Is it because Buttermilch is calm that I find it disturbing? Perhaps because despite knowing he was at death¡¯s door, he was still able to accomplish one last good deed¡ªone final karma to tip the scale? ¡®Karma works in mysterious ways,¡¯ the unsettling voice of Buttermilch¡ªthe voice I will no longer hear for as long as I walk among the living¡ªlingers in the back of my mind. ¡°Buttermilch¡­¡± with a lift of my arms I tug lightly at the collar of the man I once put my faith into, ¡°wake up¡­ won¡¯t you?¡± A bit more force into the roughing of his collar, ¡°Buttermilch¡­ you can¡¯t just¡­ you can¡¯t just die so easily¡­!¡± I raise my voice a little louder amid the deafening cry of the siren. His emotionless husk is briefly exposed by the illuminating emergency light. I expect a groggy response from the hard-ass leader¡ªa coarse demand to make me stop. But there is only silence and a dull expression. I stop shaking the man, and his head gently rolls to the side. ¡°What¡­¡± my grip on Buttermilch¡¯s collar loosen ¡°What part of this¡­ is karma?¡± I ask the husk while choking on my words, staring into the blank eyes of my former superior, ¡°what point¡­ is karma if you¡¯re¡­? Why¡­¡± I lower my head next to the rod penetrating his chest, ¡°what use is me living if you can¡¯t see it to the end?¡± I tighten my grip on the collar in between each sob of choke. ¡°Was it worth dying to achieve your last stroke of karma? To let me live at the cost of your own?¡± I utter¡ªbut the wail of the siren drowns out my proclamation. The lifeless commander only stares at me with empty eyes as to mock me with affirming my questions. He¡¯s dead, and there¡¯s nothing I can change about it. No amount of yelling or yanking him by the collar will change that. This is no dream¡ªthis is happening. This is all happening, and Buttermilch is dead. Is it my fault? Did I not go far enough to change the commodore¡¯s mind? Are these series of events a consequence of the actions I took¡­ or lack thereof? A chill runs down my back¡ªhave I already steered us into a forsaken future? Is the death of Buttermilch merely the catalyst? If he had lived, and I died¡­ No¡ªI did all I could. We did all we could. Regardless of how I or Buttermilch did things, the same thing would¡¯ve happened. The fault lies with Commodore Chal and his staff. If I had been there¡­ Buttermilch, why didn¡¯t you ask me to go?! Why didn¡¯t you offer to take me along?! I should¡¯ve been insistent, I should¡¯ve demanded to go. I put all my eggs in one bloody basket and now Buttermilch has paid for it. And not just him, but the rest of the detachments being sent to L¨¹beck and Ides¡ªand possibly even Commodore Chal¡¯s fleet besieging Side Baltit. This would¡¯ve never happened¡­ we would¡¯ve been far better prepared! But the corpse gives no reply¡ªonly it¡¯s dreading empty gaze. ¡°What use are you dying if the rest of us will follow suit?¡± I cried weakly, ¡°why have you kept your promise to my father¡ªbut forsaken the rest of us ? Me?¡± But then I pause. ¡®¡ªHistory tends to do interesting stuff when a certain actor takes center stage.¡¯ With a glimpse into those dull pupils of Buttermilch, it¡¯s as though his spirit speaks to me directly. Perhaps¡­ there is still a chance we can turn our situation around. It doesn¡¯t sound like the Yilan has been boarded yet¡ªand if we haven¡¯t been boarded yet, then it means that whatever rammed the Jaguar has managed to somewhat resist the Madame Scarface¡¯s force. We can still claw our way out of the predicament¡ªbut what do we do? Who is this certain actor that shall rally our fleet? What do we even do? Despite the wail of the siren, I can make out several people groaning in my vicinity. I let go of Buttermilch and drag myself over to a console to balance myself with¡ªand the sight is not pretty. Dozens of servicemen and officers lay unconscious¡ªor possibly dead, it can be hard to differentiate the two. A couple here and there manages to balance themselves on nearby command consoles or chairs. And¡­ There are remains of upright legs and shins torn from their bodies. Grim reminders that nobody¡ªnot even with the advancements of science¡ªis safe enough from the merciless vacuum of space. The sight of disembodied limbs makes me recoil more than the impaled corpse of Buttermilch. My stomach is left in knots reveling in this depressing sight. The siren is cut short and the blinking illumination follows suit. There is a second of pitch darkness before the bridge¡¯s regular lighting is restored. ¡°Is¡­ is everyone alright? How¡­ how many are uninjured?¡± I work the courage to call out to them. A few inspect their surroundings¡ªas well as the horrific ripped limbs. After examining the others still lying unconscious on the floor or dead, I am given the reassuring acknowledgment that most are simply unconscious. ¡°Do¡­ do we have¡­ any officers present that are not injured?¡± My feeble voice utters. They search around to locate Prince and Mazzareli. The two of them are quickly relocated, and I am informed they are still alive¡ªbut unconscious with no luck at revival. The highest surviving ranks are some warrant officers¡ªa rank lower than me. A few are young like me, others are old as my father. Officers other than Prince and Mazzareli, that are either an ensign or higher ranked have either been not found, are incapacitated, or most likely died from oxygen deprivation. I take a few deep breaths and look behind me at the corpse of the Yilan commander, still clutching at the rod pierced through his torso. The anxiety in my chest tightens and nearly leaves me choked for air. That just leaves me, a meager ensign, as the highest-ranking uninjured officer in the bridge¡ªand so far, it does not seem anyone has rushed to the bridge yet. Who knows if anyone will even come in the first place? What even is happening in the rest of the Yilan? A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. With all curious eyes trained on me, only one thought manages to cross my mind: Should I¡­ assume command? History plays out accordingly when certain individuals take the stage¡­ that certain individual couldn¡¯t possibly be me¡ªnot in this kind of situation. I¡¯m only an ensign¡ªthis is way beyond my responsibility. Leading a formation of virtual ships in war-games is one thing, leading actual people during a time of crisis is another. Looking around, nobody has volunteered for the undertaking. There¡¯s no telling if an able-bodied officer will rush in any minute now and assume command. Every moment wasted is one step closer to death¡ªone step closer to joining the commander in death. And I definitely do not want to look forward to that haunting near-death experience¡ªor whatever the bloody hell that was. I have no other choice. I will take center stage and prove my tactical prowess. I turn to address my bridge crew who hold their breaths with anticipation. ¡°With all able officers out of commission, I will¡­ hereby be taking temporary command until a proper chain of command¡­ can be established. ¡°With that said¡ªif you can, investigate all damage done, and activate our internal camera sensors so we can re-establish our eyes and ears of the unfolding battle,¡± I expect some objections but surprisingly I am barraged with acknowledged grunts and the bridge crew is quick to work. I can¡¯t risk them knowing about the death of the commander. His corpse and the rod are obscured from their view¡ªa little white lie won¡¯t hurt. They can find out about it when this is all over ¡ªif we make it through alive. It would certainly cause a panic if anyone discovered his body now. I limp over to the communications console and pick up the receiver that dangles off the side of the table, and turn the dial to only broadcast a message to the Yilan. A message to the rest of the fleet can come later. ¡°Much of our officers on the bridge are wounded or out of action, including Commander Buttermilch and Lieutenant Commander Mazzareli. Please¡­ send any doctors and nurses available to the bridge at once,¡± and with that, I turn the receiver off briefly. I turn to face the crew again, who attentively stop to await further instructions, ¡°were any of you able to assess our damage from the bridge? I will order the engineering departments to assess it on their own, but in the meantime¡­¡± "Ma''am! For the most part, I was able to identify that most damage suffered was to the bow. The Yilan has had minor damage as a result of the shock-wave, but if you wish to get more information, it would be best to consult with the other departments," one of them, most likely a junior petty officer judging by his shoulder insignia report. ¡°If most damage is in the bow, that just leaves us as somewhat of a severed ship, huh¡­¡± I remark but nod in acknowledgment. Soon after, another officer reports we can get our external sensors online, and there are a few projected windows of the outside. To our immediate view is the Jaguar, albeit it looks closer than it seems because of the sensors. It seems to have been dislodged from its initial ram position because of the other ship that had rammed into it¡ª ¡°The Hualian?!¡± I nearly gasp. Those fools! But why? Another thought occurs¡ªis Paul alright? There¡¯s no telling where he was on the ship or if he and his crew were prepared at all. No! I shake my head; I can¡¯t dwell on those things right now! The Hualian must have had a less successful ram into the port side of the Jaguar; the Hualian faces away from the bow of the Jaguar and away from us. This gives me the impression that it¡¯s ramming merely scrapped against the side rather than into the plating itself. This leads me to believe that this is what pushed the Jaguar away from our bow. There doesn¡¯t seem to be an indicator that assault shuttles were deployed from either party¡ªso perhaps I was imagining a boarding party after all? ¡°This is going to be troublesome¡­¡± I say laconically, running a hand through golden bangs. Aside from our immediate vicinity, I can tell most of the pirate ships have managed to reach the minimum range of the battlecruiser lines. If I have to estimate¡ªless than a hundred kilometers of distance. ¡°Acting Ensign Happ, what is your order?¡± A subordinate controlling the navigator system asks, ¡°should we instruct the fleet to initiate a defensive withdrawal?¡± But before I can answer, there are several gasps from behind me. I turn to see a few deep-struck nurses and doctors. Without thinking, I rush to the nearest one and grab him by the collar. ¡°Quiet!¡± I utter, ¡°do not let the bridge know that the commander is dead¡ªtake out the rod and cover the body in a stretcher¡ªtend to the others as well,¡± I whisper with urgency, letting go of the terrified nurse and resuming my spot at the communications console. ¡°Quickly, get some stretchers! And somebody help me with the commander!¡± One of the doctors barks to his assistants and they quickly get to work. I turn to face the ship¡¯s navigator again who, along with the rest of the crew, looks at me with perplex. ¡°Right¡ªsorry,¡± I begin breaking the silence ¡°a defensive retreat? Hmmm¡­¡± I stroke my chin in ponder. ¡°I don¡¯t believe a backward withdrawal would be¡­ ideal, at this rate the ships are advancing they would¡­ I think, be past our minimum range. There¡¯s no way we can keep our distance from the Madame¡ª traveling backward has slower knots than forward, and I imagine the Scarface will want to get as close to our position as possible.¡± Whoever the Scarface is, they certainly are a force to be reckoned with. I can¡¯t help but wonder if it¡¯s possible to get through this perfectly unscratched. It gives me a chill even to think about it, but I might have to accept that we might lose a few ships¡­ a few hundred servicemen. Another knot forms in my stomach. How many casualties will we take to return to Commodore Chal¡¯s fleet? Would it be better to assume a defensive position, fire off what we can, and pray that the Scarface halts his fleet to reorganize his force and count his losses? No, this is the Scarface we¡¯re talking about; it would be a fantasy to assume they would not want to capitalize on the ambush. If they don¡¯t, we will be able to unleash the full might of concentrated Federation fire on them. They have to close the distance; the pirates have no other choice. I didn¡¯t notice it, but I was biting down on my thumb, and it took me the tingling pain to make it realize it. What would Buttermilch or Mazzareli do¡ªwhat would Alexandra or Prince do? Buttermilch and Prince would possibly attempt to play it safe¡ªinitiate an immediate missile barrage to slow down the aggressors, and withdrawal accordingly. Then proceed to link up with Ides and perform a counterattack¡­ but that¡¯s something that would be effective against any other enemy pirate commander, right? There¡¯s no way they would be able to paralyze the Scarface in our current situation. And as for Alexandra¡­ Even in this bleak situation we¡¯re in, I can¡¯t help but scoff. She seems like the kind of commander that would rush full speed through the enemy formation¡ªcasualties be damned. And just like that, I get an idea. Chapter 41: Memories of Toscana | And Consequences ¡°Rushing through the enemy position¡­¡± I whisper offhandedly. The navigator¡¯s perplexed expression turns to confusion. ¡°Sorry, ma¡¯am?¡± The navigator asks hoping he had in fact heard me correctly. It¡¯s too lunatic to even consider¡ªbut what other choice do I have? It could very well fail¡ªin complete and utter destruction. But regardless of the outcome, if we rush through the Scarface it will flip the tables. They expect us to either be sitting ducks or retreat. They don¡¯t expect us to retreatthrough them. ¡°Plot a route straight through the Scarface¡¯s fleet,¡± the navigator¡ªand the crew¡ªlooks at me with a mixture of confusion and horror, as if to imply I have finally gone and lost it ¡°full speed ahead through the bloody thing! I¡­ believe they expect us to do one of two things; obliterate us as sitting ducks, or cut us down as we withdrawal. We¡¯ll catch them off guard and change trajectory towards the commodore¡¯s fleet.¡± ¡°Ma¡¯am¡­ what about the Ides¡¯ contingent?¡± A nearby warrant officer interjects. ¡°It could take too long to withdrawal towards our Ides formation,¡± I remark, wincing in the process, ¡°the most we can do is send a transmission to their flagship and hope¡­ they can put up a defense long enough to be relieved. ¡°There¡¯s no telling how the Scarface will even react in the first place¡ªI think¡­ if they chase after us, they would leave their rear exposed, and they can¡¯t afford a two-front battle. Their only option would be to cut off the Ides formation before they continue on the commodore¡¯s fleet,¡± I pause after finishing. Most of the bridge staff continue to stare at me in silence as they process what I said. A swelling of uneasiness forms in my chest as even I begin to doubt myself. Is there a better way to go about this? ¡°Um¡­ u-unless someone has a better plan in mind¡­¡± I say with little confidence, my voice trails off as I return the gaze of the bridge. Nobody says a thing amid the doctors carting away with the patients. On the projectors, I can make out a few ships suffering direct hits from the pirate force and exploding on impact. The nerve of the Scarface to fire when one of their own is directly next to me¡­ we have to do something, it¡¯s now or never! The moment of silence continues. It doesn¡¯t seem like anybody stands to object. With a deep breath, I pick up the dangling receiver and set the dial to the engineering department, then flip on the receiver. ¡°This is Ensign Happ-Schwarzenberger acting as commander of the Yilan, is¡­ is there any sustainable damage to the engine compartments?¡± After a moment of silence, an old man¡¯s voice gives a response, ¡°I can report there have been no major problems with the engines. We had some issues at first but they have been sorted out¡­ acting ensign, what are your orders?¡± I let out a deep sigh of relief, and clear my throat loudly, ¡°as acting commander, please¡­ put engine output at full power. Other than that, continue maintaining engines until further orders¡ªand hang on tight,¡± following the engine officer¡¯s acknowledgment I flip the receiver off and turn the dial to address the whole fleet. I raise my head to the bridge personnel one last time as if expecting any number of them to suddenly object to this plan¡ªbut none do. With a trembling clear of my throat, I turn on the receiver. A split second of hesitation as a thought races through my mind: Buttermilch¡­ Friederika, Alexandra¡­ is this the right thing to do? ¡°Announcement to the whole fleet¡­ ¡°I am a staff officer under Commander Buttermilch, Ensign Happ-Schwarzenberger. As it stands now I am the highest-ranking among the uninjured officers¡ªall others are out of¡­ commission or died. ¡°¡ªThe Yilan has suffered considerable damage to her bow but we are still capable of action, and Commander Buttermilch himself is in critical condition,¡± I say after a wince. The receiver trembles in my hand, and I clasp it with my other hand to hold steady. ¡°As per¡­ his request¡­ I will take temporary command of the L¨¹beck contingent until a proper chain of command can be established, or until we reach the commodore¡¯s fleet. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°Everyone! I ask that you please be calm and understand that even though we are on the brink of¡­ annihilation, this¡­ does not mean it¡¯s unavoidable. Until I give new orders, please unleash a single volley of missiles, and then synchronize your flight path coordination with the Yilan¡ª we will mask our escape through the enemy and change trajectory to regroup with the commodore. ¡°I will permit the use of short-range weaponry when we pass through theScarface¡¯s force, but only out of necessity as there might be friendly fire: we are cutting through the enemy, not destroying them¡ªthat is all.¡± And with that, I flick the receiver off and let it freely dangle to the sides. Every inch of my body feels numb. I collapse to my knees in exhaustion, and some of the others attempt to help me up. I look up at the camera sensors and watch as our ships unleash a concentration fire of missiles¡ªthen, we start moving forward. Slow at first, then I can hear the faint roar of engines as the Yilan and the fleet accelerate to top speeds. The scrape of metal as both the Yilan and Hualian push the pirate¡¯s Jaguar aside. Will it work? Will the Scarface be caught off guard? Will it all be in vain? I can only hold my breath in anticipation as we drive towards the pirate force¡ªa few retaliatory attacks from the pirate fleet, but nothing concentrated like ours, but even so, some ships take direct hits and perish. Clouds of smoke obstruct our sensors momentarily, both from the enemy¡¯s firing and our own. But it¡¯s not long before I let out a gasp as dozens of pirate ships emerge from clouds undeterred. Some of them falter and sway off course as if caught off guard by our abrupt advance. Others ram directly into Federation ships resulting in a daisy chain of explosions. I clutch my chest tightly, letting out a distressed sigh. These people died believing I have led them to safety. I have only let them and their families down. I wanted everyone to arrive home safely, and yet¡­ I failed them. I failed them and Buttermilch. ¡°Acting Ensign!¡± Someone calls out to me, but I can barely concentrate now. Everything is so distorted. ¡°Acting Ensign! We have passed through the enemy force and are now proceeding along the projected trajectory to Commodore Chal¡¯s fleet¡ªno indications from the Jaguar or the Castelforte ship that either have given pursuit!¡± I can only weakly nod in acknowledgment. My head feels so heavy. My heart aches with such intensity that I¡­ I just want to¡­ ¡°VICTORIA!!!¡± A familiar voice cries out to me¡ªone all too familiar, one I remember fondly from that dream¡ªbut unlike that dream, it sounds less mature and noticeably younger. Almost ear-piercing squeaky even. I raise my eyes to someone skidding to a halt in front of me and rapidly kneeling¡ªalmost throwing themselves onto me. I would have practically been knocked to the floor if it weren¡¯t for the console desk behind me. ¡°Vicky¡ªare you alright?¡± The dark-haired person says, her voice trembling with sadness. She doesn¡¯t have pudgy cheeks or looks particularly fat¡ªbut sure enough, that is the one and only Friederika. The Friederika Iknow. The one in the present and not saddled by a life full of regret. ¡°Vicky?!¡± She utters again, a little more tearful this time. ¡°Vick¡­ I should¡¯ve never left you¡­ I should¡¯ve¡­ I should¡¯ve stuck with you¡ªwhat was I thinking? Oh my god¡­ if something were to happen to you¡­ if you had¡­ if you died¡­¡± she wraps her arms around me, practically unable to control herself from sobbing, ¡°oh god¡­ when I heard your voice; I was so relieved. I was so happy you didn¡¯t¡­¡± Friederika trails off as she buries her head into my chest, I get squeezed tighter in her embrace. ¡°I was in a panic when I couldn¡¯t find you after we got rammed, I figured¡ªI figured something terrible happened to you. I couldn¡¯t find you no matter where I went, and that filled me with fear,¡± she looks up at me with overflowing tears, ¡°I think¡­ I started to believe I actually lost you. And that terrified me¡­ I¡¯ve never been so terrified in my life. Terrified of losing you.¡± Friederika breaks down crying, and she can¡¯t form any more coherent sentences. I wiggle my arms free of Friederika¡¯s grasp to wrap my arms around her and press our foreheads together. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for causing you so much worry, Kiki¡­ I was scared too, scared bloody shitless¡­¡± after seeing that vision of Friederika, I just wanted to tell her how much she meant to me¡ªhow much I cherish her and her annoying quirks. Friederika truly is more of a friend to me¡ªshe¡¯s my sister, a part of me that I would never dream of letting go. Buttermilch died so I could cherish my life with Friederika, and the thought of losing Friederika in all of this hurts me more¡ªbut we¡¯re safe, and that¡¯s what matters. ¡°Thank you, Kiki¡­ thank you for always being my friend¡ªbeing by my side,¡± I whisper as I stroke the back of her hair, only occurring to me how much the two of us were still trembling. The worst may have past, but the nightmare is not over. Chapter 42: Memories of Toscana | An Agitated Madame Unbelievable. I hunch over in my chair in dismay, staring down at my boots and the cold metallic floor. Everything about this is utterlyunbelievable. It started when Olga¡¯s Taiga raced ahead of the fleet and rammed into an enemy ship. When I found out about it, I was livid; and being livid means my scar tissue burns with aggravation. I specifically said not to ram into enemy ships if one can help it¡ª that can slow us down. And yet¡­ I clench my fits in anger¡ªOlga went and did it already. Olga is too reckless¡ªshe''s far too reckless being in command of a ship of her own. I should¡¯ve given command of the Taiga to someone else who¡¯s more conservative¡ªa less reckless dolt that wouldn¡¯t have to think twice of disobeying a direct order from me. What was Olga thinking? With a hoarse sigh, I heave myself up and pace around the deck. This stinging makes it hard to clear my head¡ªand it can take a good hour or two before it calms down. It gets hard to think, and in a time like this, it¡¯s hard to keep a clear head commanding these battle-hungry dolts. Regardless of Olga ramming into the enemy ship¡ªit seemed to be beneficial at least at first. It must¡¯ve been the flagship of this task force since the other Metropol ships didn¡¯t take the initiative of anything. And that just makes me even more frustrated¡ªand as I grit my teeth, my scar tissue stings with pain. What would Olga have done if she got boarded? What would she have done if her boarding party failed and she was captured? What did she hope to accomplish by ramming into the ship? The rest of the ships under me and Sergi were too far away to capitalize on it. If she failed, it would have doomed us all. If we lose the Taiga we lose our trump card. And yet¡­ the Federation didn¡¯t do anything at first, but once we intercepted a transmission from a low ranking officer saying she would get them through this perilous situation, I remained cautious. I thought it was a bluff. Nothing more than an amateur move to hide their true intent¡ªand when they fired off the volley as instructed, I expected them to withdrawal in typical Metropol fashion¡ªthe further they are from us the easier it will be to pick us off and whittle us down. Sooner or later they would be able to regroup at Ides and launch a counter-attack, and then the force besieging my brother would envelop us. I would have no choice but to concede defeat. But¡­ that¡¯s not how it went down, and I stop pacing to look at the map overlay of the Federation formation slipping further and further from us. It was not a feeble attempt at deception. That was the officer¡¯s genuine purpose¡ªand I was none the wiser. What caught me even more off-guard is the Federation force didn¡¯t turn around and assault us from behind. Similarly, my men circulated fears that they were trying to divert attention to themselves and head for L¨¹beck. But the radar operator made no mistake: the Metropol force wasn¡¯t intending to do either. The Federation is, in fact, heading to regroup with their allies at Side Baltit. I¡¯ll hand it to that officer; it wasn¡¯t predictable¡ªthey had two ways of doing things¡ªstay and resist until Federation reinforcements arrived or withdrawal. Both would¡¯ve been costly¡ªbut more importantly, it would have cost me precious time. Regardless I doubt they would have the maneuverability needed to turn around and attack from behind. The ships I have under my command aren¡¯t particularly mammoth-sized like the Federation¡¯s ships, it would be no issue adapting to the situation. There is no doubt they would have the edge at first¡ªI would¡¯ve suffered serious losses while my ships turned around, but it would¡¯ve been acceptable¡ªlosing time is not. I sit back into my chair and sink in, reverting to the hunched over-posture I was in, trying to rub my scar tissue to relax it. I can¡¯t give chase to that retreating force. And I can¡¯t split my force either¡ªI have to march to the formation heading to Ides before it¡¯s too late. I say that, but; a feeling still nags at me: Olga¡­ what am I going to do with her? If she had just kept pace with her escort ships, we would have been able to cut through the battlecruiser line without fear of firing on her. The Metropol ship¡¯s short-range flak guns would¡¯ve only been a minor hindrance, we would have no issue outperforming their slow-firing armaments. I give my nose bridge a small pinch, wincing from the part of the damaged tissue that runs through it. Before I can deliberate any more on the matters with Olga and Federation maneuvers, I hear a subordinate from a deck below informing me of incoming transmissions from Olga and Sergi. I stand up from my chair and make my way to the railing, which I lean on. Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°Very well, put them on display,¡± I reply wryly, not knowing how I should address Olga between the three of us. A dual projection of Sergi and an enthusiastic Olga are shown on the bridge¡¯s monitors. There is an exchange of chest salutes between the two and my subordinates. ¡°Madame?¡± Olga is the first to speak. My grip on the railings tighten, and Sergi seems to pick up on my hesitation; he closes his eyes and makes a slight huff through his nose. ¡°Olga,¡± I start, and my tone must have made Olga wince if only slightly, ¡°before I issue you two orders, I want you, Olga, to know that your decision to ram the Federation ship is an act of disobedience. ¡°You disobeyed a direct order¡ª my order¡ª of avoiding ramming Metropol ships if you can help it. You put yourself and your men in danger¡ª¡± Olga is dumbfounded, eyes wide in puzzlement, ¡°I will not¡­ I do not wish to punish you, and I hate to do this in front of the men, but please, avoid squandering the Taiga with such reckless behavior. We need to act fast and can¡¯t be doing such risky endeavors. ¡°You left me unable to fire on the Federation fleet, and as a result, it gave them ample time to organize themselves and catch us off-guard,¡± I clench my chest and ball my gripping hand into a fist, ¡°but enough of that now. As for what¡¯s next, I want the fleet to move the battlefield to the Metropol detachment heading for Ides¡ªand cut them off from the main force.¡± ¡°Should we let the men rest first, Li?¡± Sergi says a moment after I finish speaking, averting his eyes from Olga all the while. Olga looks a lot less enthusiastic now. Her eyes are similarly averted from us, ¡°also¡ªI believe we should send a detachment to chase after the fleeing Metropol squadron. We might be able to catch up and eliminate them before they can supplement their numbers at Baltit.¡± I only shake my head. ¡°No, it¡¯s too risky,¡± I begin ¡°we will remain as one contingent and strike at the Ides formation. Although I have played with your idea of sending a forward squadron to engage the fleeing formation, it could potentially end in disaster if our forward squadron is unable to finish it off in time. "In any case, I''ve been outplayed by the junior Federation officer. It was rather bold of the woman despite her ship getting rammed by Olga,¡± Olga winces a bit. Just off-screen I can tell she is rubbing her shoulder at what she did, ¡°if things had gone differently, I have no doubt the whole fleet would¡¯ve been annihilated. But there¡¯s no helping it now. As long as we get the Ides formation neutralized, our rear will be secure, and we can fight the Federation fleet on equal footing. ¡°If we¡¯re particularly lucky, my brother will sally out from the Baltit ¡ªassuming he even has a fleet to speak of¡ªand from there, we should either be successful at compelling a withdrawal of the Metropolitan forces or swiftly annihilate them¡­ ¡°Oh, before I forget¡­ how long until we can begin engaging the Ides formation?¡± ¡°Madame!¡± An adjutant on the deck below me presents himself to me, ¡°I approximated the distance between the Taiga and the nearest Federation unit heading for Ides, and I believe we can bring the whole fleet to bearing down on them in about two hours!¡± I rub my chin in ponder, and a part of the scar tissue that I brush against evokes a stinging sensation, ¡°two hours, you say?¡± He reaffirms what he said, and I look back at Sergi and the rather quiet Olga. I let out a slight huff through my nose, ¡°Sergi, you asked me if I should let the men rest? Normally, I would say no¡ªbut, I will permit about an hour of the fleet to relax¡ª but no more. After that, I am forbidding anyone from taking breaks. The moment we finish off the Metropol squadrons we are moving the battlefield straight to relieve my brother at Baltit. ¡°Also, Olga,¡± I turn my attention back to Olga, who flinches a bit but otherwise maintains composure, ¡°you will continue your distress signal tactic. The enemy may be aware now, but it should still confuse their ranks. ¡°¡­And I do not wish to reprimand you again, but please refrain from doing anything that will put you and your men in grave risk. You may not survive this time, and I do not want to bear the thought of losing you. Much less letting the enemy slip away and getting overwhelmed by a massed Federation force,¡± I finish with a chest salute, and Olga is the first to sign off with a look of dejection. I turn my attention to Sergi, who looks at me with a disapproving frown. ¡°Li, let me ask you a question,¡± he begins, ¡°do you think you are being too harsh on Olga?¡± ¡°Harsh, you say? Well, perhaps¡­¡± I turn my back to Sergi and lean against the railing, looking down at my command seat in front of me. ¡°¡ªI was rather surprised you lashed out at Olga¡ªin front of everyone, no less. Even if it wasn¡¯t a particularly good maneuver on her part, Olga still managed to paralyze the formation¡¯s flagship and thus gave us enough time to buy us enough time to prevent the Federation from unleashing a devastating artillery barrage. I believe you should apologize to her later, she may have prevented us from suffering even greater losses. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t be too harsh on those who genuinely care for you¡ªeven more than genuine, I would say.¡± And with that, Sergi salutes me and ends the transmission. ¡°Don¡¯t be too harsh¡­¡± I echo the words wryly, before pushing myself away from the railing and seat myself. I cross one leg over the other and prop my head up with an arm. ¡°I suppose¡­ the man is right.¡± Chapter 43: Memories of Toscana | The Second Detachment The time had come to commence operations against the Federation formation heading for the Ides star zone. Interestingly, a squadron or two part of the original L¨¹beck force had broken off from its retreat to Side Baltit and linked up with the Ides fleet. This proved to give us a difficult time at first, as the enemy put up an admirable fight¡ªbut it was only for a brief moment. About twenty minutes after the battle began, the dastard L¨¹beck squadron defense gave way and was unable to buy enough time for the rest of the fleet to put up a formidable defense. Their only appropriate course of action was a retreat to Side Baltit, which is promptly cut off by a section led by Sergi¡¯s Hugh. ¡°Is Sergi able to maintain his position?¡± I ask while looking at a holographic map of the ongoing battle. The unit led by Sergi shrinks in the face of an enemy unit that sees it get larger as adjacent enemy ships gravitate towards the potential breakout. The possibility of having more ships slip through our grasp again causes a headache; and a headache equates a resonance from scar tissue. I let out an exasperated sigh and look at the map again¡ªit does seem like Sergi is more prepared for it unlike before. The more he backs away from the Federation, the more the Federation stretches their lines thin, and it seems the enemy commander is being too careless in not protecting the flanks of his breakout. ¡°Madame! As it would have it, I received a transmission from the Hughrequesting additional ships. The Federation dogs are putting too much pressure on him and he expresses getting encircled.¡± ¡°Nonsense,¡± I wave the fantasy scenario away, ¡°the Federation is in no condition for such a maneuver. However, order a few of my reserves to assault the flanks. The cowards will dissolve under combined pressure eventually; so long as Sergi can draw the Metropol ships out, we can insert a wedge between the two Federation lines and encircle them both.¡± ¡°Madame! A ship belonging to Olga¡¯s squadron says the Taigaspearheaded through the main enemy force and successfully managed to encircle them¡­¡± the adjutant trails off. He leans into his headset and puts it down a moment later with excitement, ¡°and now I¡¯m getting reports that the Federation ships pushing Sergi back are attempting to regroup with the main fleet after reinforcements threatened the Federation flanks!" ¡°Excellent,¡± I reply with a short nod. The Federation certainly lacks resolve. If someone like that junior officer was in charge, would she have done something more tactile? Would she have instilled courage in her fleet and attempted a bigger breakthrough through Sergi? I look on as the Federation movements on the holographic map lose its momentum and rapidly diminish in the face of Sergi and Olga¡¯s efforts. The Federation commanders should be well aware of who they are fighting¡ªand yet they willingly expose themselves and their men to a greater risk of annihilation. The Federation leadership is unwilling to attempt a bold break-out, and similarly make no effort to put up a dogging resistance. Their sailors and officers are led by cowards, and I can¡¯t help but feel sorry for them. It¡¯s not long before the two distinct Metropol formations merge into one. As a result of this, the enemy fleet finds itself encircled. Perhaps I should order a small corridor to be open to give the Federation a chance to breakthrough? On the other hand, if I give them no hope of escape, they might take up a more determined demeanor and fight to the bitter end. Only then might I¡ª I am so fixated on the map that I did not take notice of the radio adjutant looking up to me from his station with caution and confusion. ¡°Is something the matter?¡± I abruptly ask the man, and he frowns after setting down his headphones. ¡°It seems the leading Federation vessel is signaling for surrender, and they are requesting a channel for terms of surrender.¡± ¡°Surrender, you say? They wish to surrender?¡± I ask with mild surprise, and the adjutant only silently nods, ¡°They want to surrender without even putting up a fight? Do they have no shame?¡± I sigh angrily, and order for them to be put on display. A moment later and I see a middle-aged officer salute me on display. Part of his head, including an eye, is bandaged, and his right arm is in a makeshift sling. He winces a little when he takes notice of me; perhaps shocked at my youthfulness. ¡°Greetings, Madame,¡± he begins, ¡°I am Lieutenant Commander Kolacz of the Lakiri. To iterate my offer with your subordinate, I am offering to stand down¡ª¡± ¡°I am not sure I will facilitate a surrender with a coward at the helm of a seizable flotilla that could act out of bad faith at any given moment. I have no desire to waste precious manpower needed to keep such an enormous amount of prisoners and ships under check when I have more immediate pressing matters at hand.¡± Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Kolacz winces again, his teeth grit. A single bead of sweat runs down his stubble face, ¡°your men are brave¡ªunlike you¡ªbut you wasted opportunities to exploit their dutiful courage to join your comrades at Baltit. I fear an enemy thick with dastardliness more than I fear a bold one; you might do this because the situation calls for it, but what is to say you won¡¯t break your promise of good faith and attack me when I least expect it? ¡°What¡¯s to say this isn¡¯t merely a deception, and you are going to attack me off-guard and rush to join your Baltit allies? You still have the means to resist me, and if you surrendered now you would not even dream of the fate that awaits you when this conflict is over¡ªand if you did knew what awaits your captured men, they would fight bitterly to the end, or kill themselves to resist such cruelty, ¡°Cut the transmission! I have nothing more to say to this despicable coward.¡± ¡°You pirate WHORE!¡± The lieutenant commander shrieks as the transmission is cut short. There¡¯s some commotion from another part of the bridge, compelling me to rush over to assess the situation. A terrified subordinate throws himself onto me and clenches me tightly by the collar. ¡°M-Madame! The enemy force is attempting another breakout¡ªthe¡­ the Lakiri and several of her escort ships are accelerating toward us at an unprecedented speed! We¡¯re going to get rammed!¡± He gasps. ¡°Rammed?!¡± I knock the man away, ¡°quickly! Evasive maneuvers!¡± ¡°W-we can¡¯t get out of its trajectory! IT¡¯S TOO LATE!¡± As everyone dived to the floor or clung to desks, I can only look in horror as the Lakiri and several other ships steer towards us with such speed that it¡¯s not long before it is less than a kilometer away from us. I clench my fists and close my eyes¡ªif this is how I meet my end, then so be it. I expect death, but I receive nothing. When I open my eyes the next moment, I let out a small gasp. Several of our own had intercepted the Lakiri and the Federation ships that tagged along, resulting in an enormous explosion that engulfed all involved. The Lakiri, although heavily damaged, continued its course and steered off from the Castelforte ¡ªas my gaze follows it, the Lakiri explodes in a fiery ball of destruction not far from us but does not take any other ship down with it. Despicable, I clench my fist in anger. How despicable! If they want to die that badly, then I will give them a swift and painless death¡ªthe only other alternative is an arena fight with tigers! I stomp over to the adjutant in possession of the headphones and rip it from his terrified grasp, ¡°this is the Madame! All ships; cut down the Federation dogs! Don¡¯t let a single one escape¡ªthere will be no quarters!¡±
I had retired to my command chair when a subordinate ran up to my deck and presented himself before me. ¡°Madame! Report from Olga and Sergi; ¡® all enemy ships encountered were destroyed, we can proceed to relieve the siege of Baltit whenever you are rea¡ª¡± ¡°M-Madame!¡± A shout from the deck below. I quickly rise and rush to the railing, ¡°I-I¡¯m receiving new reports that a few stragglers slipped through Sergi¡¯s wing and are accelerating rapidly to the Baltit!¡± I slam the cold railing with a balled fist¡ªif those ships get through and manage to alert the enemy, then we may be at a disadvantage, ¡°all ships are to immediately give chase! Fire on the enemy as soon as they enter maximum firing range!¡± After a shout of acknowledgments from the crowd, I pace back to my seat and slump into it. We may have gotten lucky so far¡ªbut if the enemy commander at Baltit is made of tougher skin, then I may have a far more difficult time than I may have imagined. Che! Just a little while longer¡­ and I must still face the Metropol juggernaut at the Rouen corridor. Who knows if they have seen through my deception yet? As it is now, they could very well be in L¨¹beck by now. I prop my head up with my arm in distress. Simon¡­ is this really the best way to go about things? Chapter 44: Memories of Toscana | Regrets
AROUND THE SAME TIME AS THE IDES FORMATION IS DESTROYED
THE YILAN
Friederika did not stick around on the bridge for long. The scene of so many¡­ limbs and injured is too much for her. She gently tugs me on the shoulder to get my attention. ¡°Vicky¡­ I¡¯ll go on ahead to see if Mazzareli and the others are up yet,¡± Friederika says quietly. She tightens her grip on my sleeve, ¡°¡ªbe safe, okay? I won¡¯t¡­ be long. I¡¯ll come back as soon as I can,¡± with my eyes still trained on the floor I only give her a slight nod. ¡°See you, then Kiki,¡± I reply wryly. I look up for a second to exchange sad eyes with Friederika, who sees herself off with a brief salute and dragging her feet out of the bridge. Although Friederika is a rank above me, normally she should be the one to remain on bridge as the highest-ranking officer. But for the time being, she has no desire to have all this responsibility piled on her. The longer she is here on the bridge, the less she acts like Friederika and more like Sub-Lieutenant Trachenberg. I got us into this predicament. I am the one who inadvertently caused the deaths of hundreds of people as a result of my blunder¡ªand I should be the one who sees us to safety; to allied lines at Side Baltit. ¡­A blunder, huh? With an exasperated sigh, I turn around and rest on the top of a console machine and listen in on a report being given on our navy¡¯s status report. They are not particularly good news; and each transmission causes me to further sink my head into my arms. Over thirty percent of our naval force is destroyed. Around ten percent suffered considerable damage. The chief technicians of those in particular expect a few hours worth of repairs for combat effectiveness. In the meantime, most of the crews have been transferred to other ships until they¡¯re fully repaired. As a result, this slows our pace because of the skeleton crews. We¡¯re more or less at half combat strength, half overall speed. The only good news out of all of this is the enemy isn¡¯t chasing after us. I was cautious in setting up a rearguard squadron, but given that our overall speed has slowed down considerably because of the skeleton ships I gave in to permitting a rearguard action. There were lots of fears at first they would turn around and harass us¡ªor even finish us off for good. But the rearguard action is more of a false sense of security. In reality, there¡¯s no way we will be able to turn all our ships around and give the Scarface a tough time. I slightly raise my head from my arms. The warrant officers in front of me continue to jolt down relayed reports of casualties. Two hundred total injured here, a few more hundred killed there. The most we are capable of is giving the pirate fleet a tough time. There¡¯s no way I can think of a way to counter the Scarface. I tighten the grip on my sleeves. Our doctrine of firing in sections and advancing is not suitable for combat against a well-organized foe¡ªnot something as tenacious as the Scarface. The moment they close distance it¡¯s over for us. But what I can¡¯t get my head around is the Scarface chose not to engage us again. From what we could tell, the Scarface¡¯s navy remained stationary before they changed course for the Ides formation. Were they giving a moment of rest? Deciding on their next move? I will possibly never know. And truthfully, it is not important right now. A few of our cruiser squadrons demanded to rendezvous with the allied fleet heading for Ides, I didn¡¯t have much of a choice but to accept because they would¡¯ve gone in any case. I managed to keep in contact with them but after a while communications were cut short. Some of the warrant officers suggested sending a shuttle to investigate but I decided it could be too risky and did not give the order to do so. Looking around I can tell; nobody wants to admit it, but the Ides formation is most likely lost. What ships that were on our radar in their sector disappeared. Some of the technicians surmised they do not have transponders, so it is impossible to tell if they were overrun or not. I can only hope they took some of the pirates down with them. With a sigh, I push myself away from the console top and proceed to seek out the next officer in charge which doesn¡¯t take long for me to spot. A man at least in his late twenties or early thirties at the least: tired eyes, subtle cheek freckles, and short dark wavy hair, ¡°well then, warrant officer¡­ uh,¡± I trail off unable to remember the man¡¯s name. I¡¯ve only now been acquainted with most of these lower-class officers, so remembering any of their names gives me a mild headache when there¡¯s so many of them. The freckled warrant officer turns to me in surprise but provides me a calm smile, ¡°Warrant Officer Casavant, ma¡¯am?¡± He responds coolly. I don¡¯t think I can ever be used to being called ma¡¯am, particularly so when they¡¯re much older than me. It just doesn¡¯t feel right. ¡°Er¡­ Casa¡ªer, Warrant Officer Casavant, if no more reports are coming in, I will be leaving the bridge temporarily. I will be handing over command to you until further notice. I will be joining Kiki¡ª Sub-Lieutenant Trachenberg checking in on the lieutenant commander and bring him up to date if need be,¡± I finish with a textbook salute, and most of the bridge crew return the favor, ¡°continue to establish communications with the commodore and gather reports from the fleet in the meantime,¡± if I have to be honest with myself; I don¡¯t feel fit for command. Casavant seems like a more reasonable person to assume command. ¡°Understood, you can count on me,¡± Casavant says assuredly before returning to work.
Leaving the bridge behind me the immediate corridors and subsequent areas are just as distressing. Shelves lay toppled, various small items lie scattered about. If this were a more lighthearted atmosphere, I would want to think this was a party that got a little crazy. And with a timid sigh, I accept that is not the case. As with the bridge, the windows are sealed tight with shutters. Some corpses line the walls. Neatly covered in white or teal blue sheets, others have been done with haste. For some, their sheets are tainted by splotches of dark red. I wound up so lost in my thoughts that I didn¡¯t notice I nearly trip over one of them. Part of the sheet was pulled away from my footing and I kneel next to it to pull the sheets over them¡ªand I pause. A young woman with long streaks of golden hair and green, dull eyes. Her lips are a light shade of purple, and her skin pale¡ªcold to the touch. Her mouth lies gaping, eyes frozen in terror. The poor thing must have been digging at her neck as there are claw marks dug into it; a desperate cry for help, a fruitless attempt for air. For a moment I feel the need to massage my own. My chest weighs heavy with pain. I see myself in her¡ªno, she is me. A poor child caught up in the ill-fated decision to split the fleet. An incompetent decision decided by a few that cost the lives of many. My grip on her sheet tightens. I failed her, I failed her and so many others. Could I ever look at her family in the eyes? Could I¡ªor anyone else¡ªtruthfully tell her parents she died with honor¡ªthat she died bravely? Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. And not just her, but the others among this corridor too¡ªand the many, many more who will never return home to their families, and a proper burial. The thought that so many share the same fate sends a chill down my spine. There¡¯s nothing I can do for her or the others now. I close her eyes before carefully pulling the blanket over her exposed body. A group of personnel pass by me, but stop nearby and get to work putting the bodies on stretchers. I do not make eye contact with any of them, but I can feel some of them burning their gaze into me. As they get nearer to me and the girl next to me, I get up and give them space so they can put her on a stretcher and move on to the section of corpses. On the way to the medical bay, I stop by the mess hall¡ªwhich was transformed into a makeshift hospital. Most tables are cleared so that some patients have a place to lie on. Others are on bedrolls or are perched up against the walls. There is a staggering ratio of patients to doctors¡ªmany injured are left unattended and stare aimlessly. Spaced apart by a few meters are medical trays containing bloody shards or other metallic objects I can¡¯t identify. Screams of agony fill the air as doctors tend to wounded¡ªeither stitching wounds or amputation¡ªa sight that makes me cringe and look away. It only makes me a little more angry at myself. Regret. If I had woken up a little earlier¡­ just a few minutes earlier, could I have saved Buttermilch? Could I have gotten medical personnel to the bridge sooner and saved their lives? Even so, would Buttermilch have passed command over to me, or would he instruct me to order things differently? What would have Mazzareli or Prince done if they were revived earlier? I deflate with a deep sigh. There is no use lamenting over it now. Examining the mess hall more, I do not make out Friederika, Mazzareli, or Prince¡ªalthough I do see Margot dart from table to table trying to do what she can. But I can¡¯t ask her if she knows where Friederika or our commanding officers went. I¡¯ll just have to find them on my own¡ªmost likely they are in the nearest medical station. With a deflated sigh, I move on.
I pass by occasional crowds of personnel going about their business and finally come across Friederika. She leans against the wall next to the medical bay door, one arm holds the other up as she strokes her jaw in ponder. She hasn¡¯t noticed me yet, but from where I stand I can tell she is worried sick. I step closer to her without saying a word. When my shadow catches her eye, she looks up at me with deep concern, but upon registering it is me she gives me a sudden beaming smile, ¡°Vicky! It¡¯s about time you came¡­ you should know better than to keep a girl waiting.¡± I¡¯m a bit relieved that Friederika can still keep a positive attitude through all this¡ªeven if she is perhaps faking it. ¡°Well, maybe you should¡¯ve told me where you were even going, and I wouldn¡¯t have to play a wicked game of hide and seek,¡± neither of us so much as laugh, but instead scoff lightheartedly, ¡°is Mazzareli and Prince awake yet?¡± I ask her as she rubs her shoulders, wincing a bit in the process. ¡°¡­Um, yeah, they¡¯re awake now. I told them what had happened so far, but¡­¡± she trails off as her eyes lower to the floor. ¡°Did you tell them what happened to Buttermilch¡­?¡± I ask but it surprises me when Friederika looks at me with a furrowed brow. Oh¡ªright, I never did tell her what happened to the former commander, did I? Or the bridge crew, for that matter. I was going to, but I was too lost in thought to even think about it. It¡¯s simply not the time for it right now. ¡°Huh?¡­ w-what happened to Buttermilch?¡± She asks as if reading my mind. I take a deep breath and tell her about the fate of Buttermilch. I didn¡¯t omit anything such as him being dead before he could actually pass on command to me. Technically this means Friederika should be in charge right now. ¡°I¡­ I had no idea,¡± Friederika stammers, turning away from me, ¡°I honestly had¡­ I¡¯m sorry. ¡°That must¡¯ve¡­ been¡­ terrible. Terrible to have to witness that¡­¡± Friederika says with a lowered voice, ¡°you haven¡¯t told anyone else yet, have you?¡± I shook my head, ¡°of course not. Our morale would¡¯ve plummeted if I announced that to the fleet back then¡­ and frankly, I¡­ don¡¯t know when I should. I think when I tell Mazzareli, I¡¯ll¡­ suggest he do it himself¡ªI think it would be better for him to announce it,¡± I take a few steps toward the door, just far enough so that it doesn¡¯t automatically open. ¡°Kiki¡­ ¡°¡­Do you think I did the right thing? Do you think I made the right call to have the fleet¡­ charge through the Scarface? They say we¡­¡± I clear a lump in my throat, hands pumped into fists, ¡°¡ªthey say we have a thirty percent casualty rate¡­ Kiki¡­ that¡¯s not measured in numbers, or lives, or individual names¡­ that¡¯s just a percentage. So many people have died as a result of my decision¡­ so many people died of my incompetence¡ª I¡¯m no better than the commodore or any of his staff, or people higher up in the Federation, am I? ¡°Buttermilch¡­ he told me he resented the higher brass because of incompetence, he was angry at himself because he was powerless to prevent certain things from happening,¡± I try to keep my throat cleared, my eyes are getting a little watery ¡°Buttermilch slaved away to be more influential¡­ to prevent the same mishappenings¡­ to reform the navy, and he was powerless to the end¡­ we couldn¡¯t change a damn thing! ¡°I don¡¯t know if I made the right choices, Kiki¡­ I think¡­ I made a blunder; disastrous blunders that cost us so many innocent lives¡­ and I have to live with these regrets, I have to live with the death of people like Buttermilch, and even though we did so much to accomplish so little¡­ I should¡¯ve done things differently. There would¡¯ve been far fewer losses if I had ordered the fleet to organize a retreat better¡­ ¡°I should¡¯ve left the fleet in far better hands, what was I thinking? What could I have done better?¡± I ask, bitterly grinding my teeth. I have to wipe my eyes since the water was dripping down my cheeks, ¡°I¡¯m just as powerless as Buttermilch was¡­¡± I choke, and the next moment I feel something warm press against me from behind¡ªand arms that wrap around my waist. Friederika rests her head on my back. ¡°You don¡¯t have to be so hard on yourself, Victoria,¡± she says with a crack in her voice ¡°you did all you could, Victoria. There¡¯s no way anyone would have a right or wrong way in that¡­ situation,¡± her hug tightens if only a little, no matter what¡­¡± she trails off for a chance to clear her throat, ¡°people were going to die. It doesn¡¯t matter if it was only twenty or a thousand¡ªpeople were going to die. You could¡¯ve¡­ beaten up the commodore¡ªand people would¡¯ve still died. ¡°So please¡­¡± her voice is a lot more shakier, ¡°so please¡ªdon¡¯t blame yourself too much. Don¡¯t put the blame on anyone¡ªwe all screwed up. You, me, Buttermilch, the commodore¡­ this whole thing ended up as a mess. Victoria¡­ ¡°You managed to save so many lives. The ones that died¡ªthey died so that we could live ¡ªso that we could¡­ so that we can live on¡ª for them, for Buttermilch and everyone else¡­¡± I can feel her shaking her head against my back ¡°I don¡¯t think you did anything wrong¡ªI don¡¯t think you¡¯re incompetent¡ªI don¡¯t think anyone will blame you for what happened. ¡°I don¡¯t care how many people died, Victoria¡ªas long as you¡¯re alive, nothing else matters to me. If you were among the ones that died¡­ I would¡¯ve¡­ I would¡¯ve given that Madame lady my wrath¡ªno matter what it took, even if I died in the process.¡± I¡¯m at a loss for words. My head is spinning from Friederika¡¯s revelations. But before I can fully process what she said, the weight on my back is lifted¡ªand then I¡¯m abruptly shoved towards the door. As if in anticipation the door slides open with a whoosh, and I practically trip through the open door into the medical bay¡ªthe door immediately closes after me. After regaining my footing, I straighten up to a rather quiet atmosphere¡ªalmost every bedding is preoccupied. I look behind me, but it doesn¡¯t seem like Friederika joined me¡ªshe must¡¯ve set me up for a meeting with Mazzareli and Prince. The little¡­! ¡°Ensign Happ?¡± The familiar voice of the lieutenant commander reels me around. At the far end is a puzzled Mazzareli, standing adjacent to a bed. At another bed, a curious Prince sits upright. But the bed Mazzareli stands by is the one that draws my most attention; the resting body of Commander Buttermilch. Chapter 45: Memories of Toscana | Moving Forward Mazzareli looks at me with confusion, ¡°what brings you here, ensign? I was told by Sub-Lieutenant Trachenberg that you were taking command of the bridge?¡± ¡°Well, I did assume command for a while,¡± I say while wiping away some of my tears. To my surprise my tone still sounds a bit shaky, ¡°but I temporarily handed over command to a warrant officer named Casavant. There¡­ wasn¡¯t much for me to do, and I felt there was better urgency to fetch you and situated.¡± ¡°Fetch me?¡± Mazzareli exchanges glances with Prince, and steps away from the body of Buttermilch towards me, ¡°what was so urgent that you needed to see me?¡± With deep breaths, I walk past the lieutenant commander and towards the bedside of Buttermilch. His eyes are closed, and he looks more relaxed than before. It¡¯s the most peaceful state I¡¯ve ever seen him in, ¡°I was going to inform you of¡­,¡± I clear my throat, looking away from the body towards Mazzareli, ¡°¡­the commander¡¯s death, but I guess you already found out about it yourself.¡± I wonder how Friederika didn¡¯t know? Was the body covered up? ¡°If I may ask, how much did Kiki¡ª Sub-Lieutenant Trachenbergtell you what happened, for, er¡­ lack of a better wording?¡± Mazzareli rubs his neck, ¡°yes¡­ well, I only found out about it just now. She informed me he was in critical condition¡­ I never figured he would succumb to his wounds,¡± I wince a little; Buttermilch is dead, yes, but it¡¯s not in the way Mazzareli would expect. When I glance over at some of the doctors our eyes lock before they avert eyes. Would it be alright for him to believe it played out like that? ¡°She also mentioned how you assumed command for the time being and got us through the enemy safety,¡± he pauses ¡°while I think it was a risky choice of how you achieved it, your choice nonetheless saved the fleet.¡± ¡°I can only imagine how much of a difficult time that must have been for you¡­ for anyone that could¡¯ve been in your shoes, really¡ªyou were brave, Victoria¡± Mazzareli approaches me from behind and gives me a gentle hug, ¡°you did an admirable job, Victoria. If Buttermilch had survived, I have no doubt he would say the same thing. Just the fact that you or I can stand here is a testament to that.¡± ¡°Th¡­thank you, sir, that means a lot to me,¡± I reply quietly, trying not to get emotional again. We spend the rest of our time in the medical bay without another word. Before the lieutenant and the lieutenant commander could leave, they needed one last checkup by the doctors, and after that was done the three of us paid respects to the covered-up Buttermilch and left for the bridge. Friederika was nowhere in sight when we left the medical bay. Perhaps she has gone ahead to the bridge?
Although we were in no particular hurry, the three of us were walking briskly alongside the conveyor floor before Mazzareli spoke up, ¡±you said you handed over authority to Warrant Officer Casavant?¡± He asks and I nod my head in silence ¡°I understand that you didn¡¯t have anything to do, but is there a particular reason why you did not send him, or anyone else for that matter, to check in on me and Lieutenant Prince?¡± What an odd thing to ask but I guess it¡¯s a valid question, ¡°er¡­ it helps build character?¡± I remark¡ª appointing Casavant was more of a whimsical decision, ¡°I couldn¡¯t stomach being around in the bridge for much longer¡ªI needed some, er, fresh air,¡± I say offhandedly. Prince can¡¯t help but scoff. ¡°I see¡­ Buttermilch was contemplating recommending him for a promotion someday¡ªCasavant is a good man. I think you made a good decision there too¡ªbut that aside, did the pirate fleet not pursue us?¡± ¡°No, sir, um¡­ as a matter of fact, I stand reason to believe they went over our Ides detachment,¡± Mazzareli and Prince stop and I initially pass them before realizing it. Prince and Mazzareli exchange concerned glances. They ask me to repeat myself, which I comply with. Mazzareli¡¯s brow inclines. ¡°Where is this fleet heading, ensign?¡± ¡°I felt it was reasonable¡­ to head for Commodore Chal. It was the best course of action for us¡ªif we headed for our other allies, we could¡¯ve faced immediate danger given our circumstances. A good number of our fleet is not in the ideal condition for combat operations,¡± I huff air through my nose ¡°if the Madame sought to attack us¡­ I don¡¯t think we could even put up a good fight, or out-pace them. Most of our ships are undergoing maintenance and that has slowed us down considerably. We should¡¯ve reached the commodore by now, but¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s not something that could be helped, then¡­ did you manage to establish communications with the Commodore or the commander of the Ides fleet?¡± Mazzareli asks, and I shake my head. ¡°With the Ides fleet, we¡¯ve been trying¡­ but to no avail. I ended up permitting a few squadrons who wanted authorization to link up with them and give the pirates some resistance until we can formulate a better plan with you and the commodore. But¡­ If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°I lost contact with the squadrons not long after. I think the Scarfacemust¡¯ve destroyed them already. I had a few of my staff suggest we send some shuttles to investigate, but I declined their suggestions. Based on our radar scans, I can¡¯t rule out they¡¯ve all been wiped out,¡± I finish wincing several times. ¡°And if that happened¡­¡± Prince is the one to speak up ¡°the flotilla as a whole will be in a dire situation¡ªEnsign Happ-Schwarzenberger,¡± his formal addressing of me causes me to stiffen up ¡°we should be close enough now that we can establish communications with the commodore, no?¡± ¡°I believe so¡­ I did tell Casavant to try to establish relations if he can. If he had done so already, I think he would¡¯ve announced over the speakers, or sent someone to retrieve us. He likely had just about as much luck as I did reaching out to the commodore¡¯s fleet.¡± We resume walking towards the bridge. Mazzareli clears his throat, ¡°since you mentioned the ships undergoing repairs have slowed us down, just how fast is the fleet heading for Commodore Chal?¡± ¡°Umm¡­ at a steady knot¡ªat our normal speed we would¡¯ve probably joined the fleet by now, but¡­ it probably won¡¯t be for another hour or so, in which case¡­¡± Mazzareli stops in his tracks, and Prince and I stop as well, ¡°if we are to believe the pirate fleet has destroyed our Ides detachment,¡± Mazzareli starts, ¡°it could mean that the pirates wasted no time in marching to the Baltit by now,¡± he looks up at Prince and me, ¡°it¡¯s possible the commodore may be engaging the Scarface as we speak.¡± Before Prince or I can respond, that dreadful sound I never wanted to hear again begins ringing in my ears: the announcement indicating battle-stations. My chest tightens with anxiety as I look over at my two superiors; fear.
Once we reached the bridge we sought Casavant, who sat in the commander¡¯s chair deep in thought. Upon noticing us, Casavant springs to his feet and orders the bridge to salute us¡ªwhich is executed in pitch-perfect unison. Afterward, he formally transfers command over to Mazzareli, ¡°Ensign Happ-Schwarzenberger, Lieutenant Plotte, Lieutenant Commander Mazzareli¡ªso nice of you to join us. Just a few minutes ago, I finally managed to reestablish communications with the commodore, and it¡¯s not great.¡± ¡°Out with it,¡± the lieutenant commander retorts, I look down at his hand which is balled into a shaking, sweaty fist. ¡°About twenty minutes ago,¡± Casavant starts, ¡°the fleet under Commodore Chal has been caught off-guard by what they describe as a phantom pirate force¡ªone they identified as being led by the Madame Scarface,¡± a shortness of breath as I struggle to remain upright. Only one thought crosses my mind: they couldn¡¯t stop the Scarface. ¡°D-did¡­ did they report any survivors from the Ides detachment?¡± Mazzareli asks, trying to remain composed. We all wait with bated breath as Casavant¡¯s eyes close in contemplation. He lets out a deep inhale¡ªand then a long deflate through his nostrils. The young, tired-looking warrant named Casavant slips off his garrison cap and runs a hand through dark curly hair. ¡°Commodore Chal¡­ assessed that all but around thirty ships survived theScarface¡¯s ambush.¡± My head gets dizzy. I have to shift my weight onto a nearby table to keep myself balanced¡ªtheir efforts were in vain. There are murmurs throughout the bridge, and I look up to see Mazzareli and Prince pale in color. Is there anything we can do to stop the Scarface? Or is it too late now? ¡°If we don¡¯t make it in time, the siege will collapse. The commodore will be overrun!¡± Mazzareli says angrily, and turns to address the whole bridge, ¡°I¡¯m ordering the fleet to march at full speed to Side Baltit!¡± Despite the acknowledgments from the bridge staff, Casavant and I exchange glances. Casavant gives a loud clear of his throat, and Mazzareli turns back to face him, ¡°Sir! What about the ships undergoing repairs? We won¡¯t be able to get all their crews stationed in time, and shift into combat formations at that¡­¡± An idea. An idea pops into mind¡ªit¡¯s so outrageous, but it may just work. ¡°You¡¯re right¡­ it will cost us precious time to reorganize the fleet into formation. Hmm¡­ leaving ships behind could bolster the pirate fleet¡¯s numbers¡­¡± Mazzareli strokes his chin, biting down on his index finger ¡°we may have no choice but to scuttle them¡­ perhaps siphon the fuel from them?¡­ I retract that order¡ªget all the remaining crew out of the damaged ships and¡­¡± ¡°¡ªM-Mazzareli!¡± I utter. Mazzareli, an annoyed Prince¡ªand all the eyes are trained on me, ¡°I-I have a p-proposal¡­¡± I hesitate, taking a deep breath to give myself a moment to think, ¡°¡ªa plan that¡¯ll¡­ I think it will cost us only minimal losses. A plan that¡¯ll defeat the Madame.¡± Chapter 46: Memories of Toscana | Dong Ches Big Break
THE BALTIT¡¯S HARBOR
Several dozen bodies litter the open field. Others lie slumped over or near makeshift sandbags¡ªpools of blood forming under them. Occasionally, small vehicles zip by with armed passengers. What remains of tent compounds lie in ruins, and there is an equally staggering amount of burnt body bags. ¡°Captain! We must get you to safety! It¡¯s no longer safe in the harbor!¡± A brave soldier yells to Che, who trembles holding a rifle in his hands. He¡¯s never held a gun before¡ªmuch less kill someone. This gun isn¡¯t even his¡ªit was thrust into his arms by a concerned Darcy. In fact¡ªthe thought of taking another person¡¯s life has always haunted him. He may threaten a subordinate with throwing them out of compartments or threaten to have them killed¡ªbut actually going through with it is another matter entirely. Dong Che is scared. He is just as terrified of his position as he is fearful of his bowels emptying at any given moment. How did it come to this? Che thinks to himself, unfazed by the subordinate trying to push him along. How did our defenses crumble so easily? Despite the tenacity of the Federation assault, Che¡¯s ad-hoc foot soldiers managed to offer stiff resistance¡ªat least initially. The Federation marines threw themselves over and over in fruitless forlorn assaults that ended with overlapping stenches of burnt flesh. Even now, Che has to pinch his nose to avoid gagging. But they could not maintain their barricades for much longer. Eventually, the Federation was able to intensify their assaults with heavier weaponry¡ªrecoilless rifles, mortars, and from he glimpsed; a few lightly armored vehicles here and there, but nothing in large quantities. Of course, those paled in comparison to the guns Che ordered stripped from some of the Mafia ships. Those, Che can argue, are the only reason he and his men are not completely overrun by now. But it was not the heavier assault weaponry that trouble Che¡ªit is the troops themselves that makes Che tremble. Che¡¯s men have managed to capture a few of them; they wore different uniforms, have unique patches, and spoke a language that the interrogators have trouble understanding but believe is Francien¡ªnot a dialect of Anglish, but Francien itself or a variation thereof. But more importantly¡ªtheir combat capabilities as a whole are unnatural. From what one of Che¡¯s subordinates gather, the captured soldiers are members of the Frankish Legionnaires. And the very thought terrifies Che. Che, of course, is not as much of a commander compared to Li and the others, and as such has very little to no practical experience fighting anything Federation or colonial related. But over the years he has heard tales from veterans and survivors of those who fought the Federation and lived to tell the tale¡ªand at the heart of these stories were always descriptions of this ¡®Frankish Legionnaire¡¯. There were first mentions of them nearly eighty years ago¡ªduring the earliest known periods of colonial civil unrest, namely in Marsol, and then Perdenes some decades later. In both cases, the nascent legionnaire was said to have successfully ¡®pacified¡¯ the unrest before they could pose a threat to the overall stability of the Federation. In recent years, these Legionnaires were used as shock troops, either in Side urban fighting or inter-ship melee. But what can Che take away from this? They are ruthless. There was no such thing as a process of pacification;the Franks committed many atrocities in their early days¡ªand even during operations against suspected pirates in the 210s¡¯, they used vile tactics that would make even his father green with envy. It¡¯s because of the employment of Legionnaires that Simon and his sister were always hesitant on ship boarding; one may never know when you face such monsters. And if it¡¯s enough to scare his sister of all people, then it is all the reason to make Che sweat profusely. And to think the Federation was only using them now¡ªwere they merely willing throwing away their own to soften up for the Legionnaires? Such underhanded methods Che would only expect from someone like Dong Zhui. Whatever opinion Che had of them before, he has no doubt now that they are a much more disciplined force, much more aggressive in their tactics, and more inclined in cutting down his men as they fall back to safer positions compared to their regular Federation counterparts. But the fall of the salients was like a domino effect he could not prevent. No matter what he said or did, his men threw down their arms and ran¡ªthe men under him aren¡¯t professional soldiers after all¡ªthey are merely thugs that joined the Mafia out of security and prospects for greed. For Che, the sight of these tiger-striped uniforms among the advancing Federation lines is akin to Federation ship commanders fleeing from the presence of the Castelforte. And much like a line of dominoes, each barricaded fall-back line that so heroically held out against the ferocious waves of Federation assaults melted before the advancing Legionnaires. So close were the front-lines that Che has to keep his head low from sharpshooters. Che is reluctant to give up the harbor. If they give it up now, then it would only spell the beginning of the end when holding out in the Side¡¯s interior. But after some sincere deliberation, Che begrudgingly gives the order to retreat into the first block of Baltit¡¯s interior. And with that, the battle for the harbor has ended in utter failure. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Che takes one last glance at the body bags of the men that he instilled with false hope; hope that they would live long enough to be relieved by the Don, or even Li. Some died from wounds¡ªa few others took their own lives when it was evident Legionnaires were deployed. ¡°After the last of us get inside, seal the doors shut!¡± Che yells over the nearby gunfire into a portable radio ¡°blast ¡®em shut¡ªwe¡¯ll wait out the Federation dogs!¡± Che ducks when bullets whiz by¡ªbut the man holding the radio on his back was not as lucky ¡±whatever it takes, live for the Madame,you fools!¡± Che screams once more, before realizing that the radio was disabled, and the man slumps onto him; dead. Che, shaken with terror, frantically pushes the corpse off him and scrambles to a nearby truck. Under a hail of bullets flying overhead, Che slams against the backside of the truck and lifts himself into the back with the assistance of the others. Che grinds his teeth with fervent, to cope, he bites down on his nails. Che has no choice. It would be borderline suicide to make his last stand in the harbor, ¡°move! Get moving!¡± Che shouts to the driver as Che bangs on the side of the vehicle. Not long after the truck goes to top speeds almost immediately causing Che to slide across the bed of the truck. But the truck never makes it far. Before Che can even register what happens next, a sudden force sends the truck barreling through the air¡ªand then crashes on its side. Che along with all the other occupants are thrown in every direction. Blood and concrete are the only things that Che tastes when he comes back to his senses. The truck¡ªor what remains of it, is a few dozen meters from him. Most of it is crushed from the impact, and brownish liquid pours out from holes that riddle its side. Eventually, the truck goes up in flames¡ªa fire that engulfs its vicinity and some of the men unfortunate enough to be in its wrath. The force had knocked the wind out of Che¡ªand his body went numb with pain. The only thing he can do is drag himself away from the burning flames that choke him with each gasp for air. Out of breath, and feeling he can no longer go on, Che manifests what energy he has and cuts loose an exhausting sigh, and rolls onto his back. The embers rise into the air before they peter out into nothingness. Much like his life, Che¡¯s life will shine bright¡ªand then will abruptly extinguish. As Che turns his head to the side, he looks on hopelessly as a lone Legionnaire stands atop barricades. The soldier scans the horizon¡ªand then their eyes meet. Briefly, the soldier brandishes his rifle¡ªand Che closes his eyes. Have I failed my men? Will there be no rescue¡ªhave I failed Li and my father? Che expects a gunshot¡ªbut hears and feels nothing. There is only silence. The ringing in his ears from the ambiance of gunfire and other acts of struggle fade to nothingness. When Che opens his eyes again, the Legionnaire that would have put Che out of his misery is gone. With a pained struggle, the young Dong lifts himself into a sitting position and looks around. But the odd moment of tranquility is dashed when the harbor erupts in celebration¡ªone much more deafening than the battle that was previously unfolding. Although some cheer, others break down sobbing. Left in a daze, Che can only wonder what had brought this about and suddenly finds himself being propped up by two women¡ªone of them Darcy. She looks unexpectedly delighted, ¡°captain! We did it!¡± She shouts excitedly over the excessive levels of celebration. Darcy and the woman set Che down against some of the barricades ¡°the Federation is retreating!¡± Indeed, peeking over the makeshift defenses, Che watches in silence as both Federation and Legionnaires retreat in an orderly fashion. If he squints hard enough he can make out some shuttles already taking off from theBaltit. Countless possibilities cross his mind, but it only takes the voice of Darcy to snap him back to reality, ¡°the Madame Scarface did it!¡± Darcy says wiping away choked tears ¡°our prayers were answered¡­¡± she pauses to wipe away a stream of tears ¡±¡ªshe¡¯s pushing the Federation armada back!¡± Che is dumbfounded by the news. Surges of emoticons flood the young Dong. Is this a hallucination? Perhaps he has died and this is all a hazy dream. Since he¡¯s still weak and can¡¯t so much as lift an arm there¡¯s only one real way for Che to confirm this, ¡°Darcy,¡± he croaks and the woman kneels next to the weakened Che ¡°do me a favor, will ya?¡± She tilts her head with perplex ¡°give me a good smack on the face¡ªI refuse to believe that I am still conscious and this is happening,¡± Darcy exchanges glances with the bewildered girl next to her, but nonetheless smacks the living daylights out of Che¡ªa little bit harder than he expects. But a good wake-me-up if there ever was one. The resulting sharp, burning pain pulsating through his cheek is enough to rejuvenate Che like an obscenely bitter cup of ersatz coffee. He abruptly takes to a standing position, to Darcy¡¯s shock, and climbs on top of the makeshift barricade out of sheer adrenaline. ¡°Everyone!¡± He bellows with an outstretched arm. The celebration dies down momentarily ¡°now is the time to strike! Get to your ships and sortie out! We shall not let our brother¡¯s sacrifices be in vain! We will avenge their bravery¡ª their honor! Rally to the Madame so that we may take the fight to them! Onward!¡± And with that, the crowd roars with joyous occasion¡ªsome even carelessly shooting into the air or in the direction of the retreating Federation. Whipped up into a newfound frenzy the surviving pirates climb the barricades and rush for their ships. Thus leaving behind Che, Darcy, and their adjutant, ¡°Captain?¡± Darcy asks as she helps to lower Che down, ¡°do you intend to join the breakout?¡± Che only shakes his head, ¡°I will only get in her way¡ªyou go in my stead, Darcy. I do not want to get in Li¡¯s bad side any more than I am now,¡± Che rubs his beard and lets out a resigning sigh ¡°I will no doubt get an earful from her after this ends¡ªso I will save her the trouble,¡± Che reaches out to rub Darcy¡¯s eye ¡°she will not treat you as an extension of me, so you are the best candidate as it stands!¡± Darcy and the female adjutant climb the barricade wall to join the Mafia fleet. After they leave and most ships take off, Che smacks his head in the realization that he forgot to ask for some cases of alcohol. Oh, brother. Chapter 47: Memories of Toscana | Side Baltit
AROUND THE SAME TIME
THE CASTELFORTE
Warping on top of the Metropolitan fleet on the way to L¨¹beck happened to be a chance opportunity. Similarly, despite wasting precious time permitting my fleet to relax we were still able to get the element of surprise albeit with a little difficulty. And as for the third time¡­ Reclining into my chair, I close my eyes and rub my scar tissue. Well, it was certainly not a case of there being a ¡®third times the charm¡¯. In the end, the enemy managed to reach their Baltit host in the nick of time¡ªand that proved troublesome. Although I intercepted a transmission intended for the L¨¹beck task force I spared earlier, I was surprised the mother Federation flotilla refers to me as a phantom enemy. It gives me a dash of reassurance that this will not be in total vain. Having reclined into my chair, I sit up straight when a subordinate finishes the flight of stairs that connects my deck to the bridge¡¯s nucleus. The poor boy has been doing this continuously ever since we have engaged the skirmish line earlier. It¡¯s unfortunate, but it¡¯s a task that somebody has to do. All I can do is silently acknowledge him for his steadfast duty, ¡°Madame! A request from our right flank¡­¡± The right wing? Tilting my head the name of the one who leads the right wing escapes my mind. In my haste to pursue the shattered remnants of the Ides squadron I was unable to reorganize my forces properly. I know for a fact Sergi is positioned on the left, but I cannot recall where Olga wounded up being, ¡°refresh my memory, boy, by whom is the flank being led by?¡± ¡°Richter is at the forefront of the right wing¡ªhe believes that by expanding to match the Federation¡¯s lines we can push through their thin numbers and cut them off from retreating to Side Malabo,¡± when he finishes I get up to stretch for a second, and stroll over to get a view of the bridge. ¡°¡­Richter¡­ was that a man under Olga?¡± The boy nods, and I scoff much to the sudden flinch of the subordinate ¡°I suppose even Olga¡¯s assertive nature rubs off on them,¡± I remark peering at the holographic display of the immediate battle-lines. I can squint hard enough to make out a single ship other than my own tagged as JAGUAR¡ª Olga¡¯s Taiga¡ª a little ahead of the Castelforte in what hypothetically would be the center-right of our phantom force. ¡°Richter¡¯s idea can be risky¡­¡± I muse, and the boy steps closer to listen in ¡°judging from the looks of the Federation force not yet engaged, Richter¡¯s assumption seems correct,¡± I point out to the young man the Federation still half-enveloping Side Baltit, ¡°we have drawn away the force engaging us now, and if Richter or Olga cuts through the Federation¡¯s left wing, it is indeed possible to throw the besieging ship flotilla into disarray¡­ and if my moronic brother times his sortie just right, we may be able to crush this flotilla altogether, but¡­¡± I trail off with a frown. ¡°But¡­?¡± The young subordinate echos and I point to the bottom of the map projector. ¡°That just assumes we have a friendly fleet harbored still¡­ hm? Operator! Put on a display of the Side¡¯s entrance,¡± I shout to one of the bridge staff who is quick to display an enlarged video feed. To a crowd of remarks and noises, there is a flow of shuttles exiting the Baltit¡ª all of Federation design. Some have markings that send a chill down my spine¡ªthose are Legionnaire assault vessels. I bite down on my lip. Anger, sorrow, despair all flow through me at once. My head becomes lighter, and I can¡¯t help but bang on the railing with a clenched fist. Damn it all to hell! ¡°Was I too late?!¡± I utter out of anger ¡°did my idiotic brother¡ªwere our men fall to the Federation dogs?!¡± I rub my face to calm down the intense pain that reverberates from agitated scar tissue. This would¡¯ve never happened if that idiotic father had stationed Che here in Valspon! In frustration, I rub my head and grab a handful of hair. Worried, the subordinate dares to approach me and calls out my name nervously. I move towards the subordinate and yank him towards me by the collar, who lets out a startled cry, ¡°has there been ANY communication with the Baltit garrison?¡± The frightened boy shakes his head with fear and I push him to the floor, ¡°then the Baltit is lost. We only have one chance at this! I¡¯m permitting Richter to go through with his plan. All ships under Olga are to support Richter¡¯s squadrons and push the Federation back¡ªwe¡¯ll knock the Federation out in one go!¡± It can¡¯t be helped. If I cannot rely on a sortie from the Baltit, we¡¯ll just have to rely on our phantom movements!
Richter¡¯s plan proceeds well. The Federation left wing put up a noble fight¡ªI can only commend them for having more of a spine than their counterparts at Ides. However, because Olga and the center put enormous pressure on the center, the Federation was unable to maintain their left wing and thus perished. Richter¡¯s force to press the advantage, but¡­ This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. While we enjoyed success on our right flank, the left flank was far less successful. The left wing, being led by Sergi, was not as reliable in closing the gap and forcing the Federation¡¯s right wing into close quarters. And this proved to be the undoing of our efforts. Eventually, the disengaged Federation armada at Baltit began the process of withdrawing from the Baltit¡­ and frantically turning around to reinforce their units in battle, and that was making me increasingly anxious. ¡°If the Federation can reinforce their right wing¡­¡± I remark out-loud ¡°¡ªthen that can be dangerous for Sergi. We might even face total encirclement,¡± even now the front-lines have stabilized. Richter¡¯s advance stalls and the Federation are capable of maintaining distance while sustaining their discipline. His squadrons were also under the risk of being exposed to a Federation envelopment since a new batch of Federation ships from Side Baltit manage to reinforce the battered Federation flank. Even now, the Federation is marching south past their right wing in what looks like what may be an L- shaped formation. Sergi¡¯s attempts at hitting the weak points of that flank are not justifying the losses we take¡ªmy method of hugging the enemy means little if they have disciplined defense in depth. Even if my ships get close to one line¡­ we cannot keep the momentum if they keep staggered lines. If we cannot stop the Metropolitan reinforcements¡ªwhich, as it stands, I am unable to prevent¡ªthen we risk total encirclement. I slump into my chair, caressing my disfigured cheek. Has my luck run out? Has this fearsome name of Madame Scarface run its course? Did I get too ambitious thinking I can take on a Federation armada head-on? Even if I were to subdue this Federation force, I must still deal with that junior officer¡¯s fleet¡­ what was her name? Happ¡­ Schwartz or some such. The fact that she has yet to reach the battlefield is worrisome. If I am unable to break this deadlock, I will most likely have no fleet left to speak of to even challenge her. ¡­Che, you bastard oaf. If only you have held out a little while longer¡­ if only you were a more sensible commander. If only I arrived a secon sooner! I cock my head to the side and massage my chin. And to think¡­ putting aside the junior¡¯s fleet, I must still tackle the juggernaut at the Rouen corridor. ¡­Simon, you fool. This fighting is utterly pointless. Why didn¡¯t you listen? Why didn¡¯t you join me in overthrowing Kamon and pursuing a peaceful option?! I can hear several people calling out to me, but being so lost in thought I barely pay them any notice. ¡°¡ªMadame! MADAME!¡± A burly man pulls me up by my cloak¡¯s mantle and despite his fearless act of insubordination he stares into my eyes with excitement, ¡°we¡¯re intercepted communications from the Federation fleet!¡± He lessens his grip on me in perhaps realizing he has lost himself in excitement ¡°the Federations are in disarray¡ªthey¡¯re responding to a threat from the Baltit!¡± As he sets me down my thoughts run like a torrent ¡°Che¡¯s fleet has sallied out engaging the Federation in full force!¡± Deep breaths. All I can respond with are deep sighs of relief. The burly subordinate rubs my shaking arms as reassurance. ¡°We didn¡¯t¡­ arrive considerably too late?¡± I ask¡ªnearly as a whisper¡ªcautiously and he nods ¡°¡­you are positive that it is a friendly fleet emerging from the Baltit?¡± But before he can respond, others call out for me from the bridge. I tear myself away from the burly subordinate and nearly throw myself to the railing. Sure enough, on the map are indications of friendly-colored formations pouring out of the Baltit in a near-constant stream. The radio operator somewhere below holds up his receiver for the bridge to hear; the Federation communication in the rear is in a complete panic. The Federation ships marching away from the Baltit have inadvertently left themselves in a careless position. At the same time, several display screens activate on our bridge display. A few at first¡ª then several, and then over a dozen. They clutter the screens of the bridge, but they are all faces and shoddy outfits I¡¯ve come to recognize¡ªthe defenders of the Baltit. My chest tightens as I fumble back into my chair, and lean forward while grasping at my aching chest. My men are safe. For the first time in a long time¡ªI feel a sense of happiness , and my eyes get teary. I can hardly think straight as both the bridge and the other ships erupt in celebration, and collective relief. But when I look back at the video screens. I gain a sense of suspicion¡ªperhaps rising worry, ¡°my brother¡ª Che, where is he? I do not see him,¡± I ask trying to maintain composure, and wiping my wet eyes with the heel of my hand. The hair on the back of my neck stands up which in turn gives me shivers. If anything happens to that bastard¡ªwho knows what will happen to me? One of the video screens enlarges itself over the others to gain prominence; a young woman with short auburn hair¡ªfrankly, I can¡¯t say I have seen much of her before. ¡°Che is safe and sound¡ªhe has passed on command to me due to¡ª¡± she blinks and bites on her tongue but I might be imagining things¡ª¡±he has exhausted himself in the defense of the harbor, and couldn¡¯t afford to command the sortie,¡± she says in a wonderful sopranos voice. I can only deflate with a sigh and lean back into my chair with a shrug. So long as the ape survives, I care not if he chooses not to lead. There are plenty of capable staff that were sent with Che¡ªmen far less inept than Che. ¡°Very well¡ªin any case, hm¡­?¡± I ask, realizing I didn¡¯t know what her name is. She must¡¯ve caught on since she rubs her neck and laughs nervously. ¡°¡ªDarcy, it is Darcy Cassetta¡ªsorry for not mentioning it earlier,¡± Darcy interjects while rubbing the back of her head nervously. I crack a grin, despite the aching sensation from my scar. ¡°I shall hope Che made the right decision in appointing you in his stead¡ªbut I suppose even an untamed bull is better than that oaf¡­ Darcy! Put as much pressure on the Metropolitan fleet as you can,¡± and with that, I cross my legs and prop my head on one of my arms ¡°we shall finish these intruding fools with ease.¡± Chapter 48: Memories of Toscana | A Scarface Bested As the battle unfolds, Darcy¡¯s fleet shifts into a rectangular formation and smashes through the stretched-thin rear of the Metropol fleet. From the intercepted messages I get relayed to me from Olga¡¯s Taiga, it¡¯s evident the Federation is struggling to formulate a strategy to counter Darcy¡¯s unparalleled warpath. But despite her shock force, it¡¯s still small. Logically, the Metropolitan fleet would regain the initiative and push Darcy back¡ªbut no such event happens. With two separate elements still entrenched on either Federation flank, the enemy is unable to pull back many ships to deal with Darcy. This is further cemented by both Olga and Richter intensifying their assaults. Eventually, the fleet of Darcy begins shifting from its rectangular formation once the Baltit fleet before it gets cut into two, leading Darcy to split her force so she can keep the two Federation fleet from rejoining. Likewise, Sergi and Olga¡¯s ships achieve the same while Richter is capable of cutting off the Federation left flank from the rest of its host. ¡°Relay to the Darcy fleet, and Olga and Sergi¡¯s flagships that they will focus their efforts on cutting down the southern Metropol ships¡ªwe will need to eliminate them before the remaining Metropol fleet can reinforce their position¡­¡± I pause and point over the railing at the radar duo ¡°on that note¡ªyou there! Where is the enemy fleet now?¡± the peculiar speaking technician turns to his mate and mumbles something, then the mate nods and turns to address me. ¡°We can approximate the enemy reinforcement fleet will be striking range in less than an hour, at the least. We were monitoring it before we noticed that they have been picking up exponential speed. I predict that their trajectory is heading straight for the enemy¡¯s middle position.¡± ¡°A concentration into the center, huh?¡± I muse ¡°an odd choice¡­ if they have chosen to maneuver around us, I wouldn¡¯t have any available reserves to challenge them¡­ not with a fleet of that size.¡± Although I believe we managed to inflict considerable damage on Miss Happ¡¯s fleet back then, it¡¯s still considerably larger than what we have even combined. It¡¯s most likely that given our current situation with divided strength, I would be left with half the firepower needed to even stand a chance¡­ ¡°News from Sergi!¡± A subordinate springs from his seat; headphones partially on and nearly slipping onto his neck ¡°Sergi reports that the southern flank has been shattered; Sergi is committing to a mop-up operation¡ª¡± He pauses and forcibly puts his earphones back on ¡°¡¯Enemy remnants of the shattered enemy fleet is fleeing towards the advancing enemy, seeking to pursue them before we are in striking distance of the enemy.¡¯¡± I slam a fist on the steel railing, a slight pinging of pain that I pay no attention to, ¡°order all lieutenants in the south to fall back! If they get too far¡­¡± I grind my teeth viciously ¡°¡ªwe cannot afford to stretch ourselves thin and divide our forces any more!¡± Shit! Even without the shattered fleet, we won¡¯t stand a chance against the Happ fleet! There¡¯s only one option left, ¡°¡ªthe enemy flagship, where is it?!¡± The bridge crew scrambles around to locate it, people yell over each other as everyone does their best to pinpoint the location of the commander¡¯s ship. A moment lasting forever passes as I try to remember to breathe, ¡°e-enemy flagship located! Putting it on the mainframe now!¡± An enlarged visual of the Federation¡¯s capital ship is displayed; it is situated behind the center squadrons, several escort ships can be seen drifting around it. I let loose with a long deflated sigh. If we can just snipe the fleet¡¯s commander¡­ then resistance will all but be shattered! Taking out the advancing Federation fleet will be no problem, ¡°forward the details of the flagship to Richter¡¯s ship and instruct him to forward all available firepower to that battleship!¡± ¡°M-Madame!¡± The radio operator gets up too fast and nearly falls over¡ªhis wired headphones are ripped from the console¡¯s electronic ports and clatter to the floor, ¡°S-Sergi reports that¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªT-the e-enemy fleet is changing trajectory! N-No¡­¡± The radar technician interjects with increasing paleness ¡°¡ªit¡¯s splitting into three different formations! A-all their trajec¡ª¡± he stammers around in a panic with a severe loss of words ¡°¡ªt-the enemy force retreating is turning around at full speed! Sergi¡¯s pursuing task-force was wiped out!¡± My heartbeat increases exponentially. A double pincer maneuver?! To my horror, I watch as the main advancing Federation host splits off into three separate formations¡ªone sweeps behind Side Baltit¡ª another one does a mirrored maneuver¡ªand the third one¡­ ¡°¡ªCentre formation is cutting straight Sergi¡¯s¡ªNo, it¡¯s advancing straight through US! ¡± The technician shrieks ¡°BRACE FOR IMPACT!¡± As the bridge¡¯s protective shields activate, I catch one last glimpse as dozens of Federation ships rush through our lines of defense¡ªbut little combat unfolds. The next moment, the burly subordinate embraces me in a bear hug and throws us to the floor with a heavy grunt. There are sounds of metallic scraping as we are thrown about on the deck¡ªbut luckily it is minimal, as I catch sight of the burly man holding on to a part of the bottom railing. This whole ordeal lasts only momentarily. I wiggle myself free from underneath the bear and balance my footing using the railing as support. Before long I am given a brief damage report; very few¡ªif at all¡ªof our fleet suffered any damage. In fact, my suspicions from earlier were correct: almost none of the Federation echelons that sped through us actually fired at all. ¡°¡­Remote controlled?¡± I ask laconically once one of the subordinates finishes his report. He gives a nod, ¡°we picked up signals that indicated almost all of the fleet that cut through us¡ªaside from the fleeing ships that turned around to join them¡ªwere being controlled from the echelon that maneuvered behind SideBaltit.¡± ¡°I see¡­ was Richter able to stop their advance?¡± From the looks of the map, Richter was caught just as off-guard as we were. His forces were only capable of turning around partway to engage the enemy¡ªbut the remote-controlled squadrons were only briefly disabled¡ªsome detonated¡ªbut nonetheless, the retreating Metropol squadrons in tow took the initiative and broke through to the battered Federation left flank. I could only watch in complete disbelief as the now-reinforced left flank maintained an ever-increasing distance between us as it inched ever close to Side Malabo . There, it seems the Federation ground forces are also evacuating from the harbor. ¡°They came to their senses and are fleeing from Valspon, huh?¡± I muse with a stroke of my chin ¡°the other formation¡­ the one that maneuvered off to our rear opposite of Baltit¡ªwhat became of it?¡± ¡°We were picking up a similar source of remote control, but mostly autopilot,¡± the subordinate replies ¡°it seems to have partially stemmed from the former L¨¹beck detachment as well, but the pings were weaker. Some of Richter and Olga¡¯s ships broke off to pursue it and had no trouble eliminating them.¡± ¡°It was a diversion, and a waste of precious munitions,¡± I sigh while rubbing my scarred cheek ¡°we squandered our ability to utilize those ships for our needs¡­ what of the L¨¹beck detachment now?¡± Once again, I¡¯ve been bested. Perhaps this is the work of that junior miss Happ as well? If she had so desired, she could¡¯ve suggested attacking us head-on. Her fleet had the capacity of ending this here and now, so: why? I slump into my seat defeated, one hand covering my face in resignation. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. Supposedly, the Happ detachment took advantage of Richter¡¯s distraction and emerged from behind Side Baltit and is currently performing a rearguard defense for the rest of the fleet as the latter limps away to Side Malabo. My ships that were previously dispatched to chase down the decoy run-away ships transitioned to harassing the retreating enemy fleet, but I start to feel like it isn¡¯t warranting the losses and order them to return to better reorganize my fleet.
One may call it ¡®a game of cat and mouse¡¯; that is what the rearguard Federation ships and my fleet were engaging in on and off of. We might attempt to advance only to be stalled by fierce barrages, as the L¨¹beck detachment makes desperate attempts to widen the gap. The host its protecting wasted no efforts in withdrawing despite increased attempts at flanking them by Sergi and Olga¡¯s ships. But despite the efforts of the two, just about the whole remnants of the Federation armada are capable of swiftly reorganizing mostly unattested, and then promptly retreats to the Bordeaux region. The L¨¹beck detachment, however, is cut off from linking up with their allies¡ªmost of their squadrons were able to slip through unopposed, leaving only the capital ship¡ªa battlecruiser¡ªand a few battered destroyers and cruisers as escorts left. From what I can tell, they must have run out of munitions and fuel needed to complete the journey, as the adjacent escorts made attempts at towing it before their escape route was sealed in a finalized encirclement. ¡°Olga reports she is ready to eliminate the fleet at your order, Madame,¡±the radio operator reports, ¡°give me the go-ahead and I will inform the fleet to smash the Feddie fleet to smithereens.¡± I get up from my chair and with careful steps, make my way to the railing. A single image display of the battlecruiser with its smashed bow¡ªno thanks in part to the Taiga¡ª drifting aimlessly with cables connecting it to some of its escorts here and there. There is a stream of shuttles between the trapped ships. Perhaps they want to exercise caution to avoid having intercepted communications? No, it doesn¡¯t particularly matter now. ¡°Your order, Madame?¡± With a sigh, I raise my right arm over my head¡ªhand flat, and fingers together straight, ¡°¡­right. When I give the signal, all ships will concentrate fire on the Federation fleet.¡± This is justifiable, isn¡¯t it? If I take them prisoner, they will die anyway at the hands of my father and his vicious arena fights. If I let them go there¡¯s no telling if they will reorganize and attempt another foray when my back is to them¡ªthey certainly have the numbers, and particularly more so if I left this formation go. Time is ticking. Each moment I waste, my ruse at the Rouen corridor will be for waste. And yet¡­ I can¡¯t bring myself to give the order. Why? Something tugs at me¡ªan invisible force at my chest. Is it wrong to strike down a fire that cannot fight back? They got themselves into this situation, have they not? If they had the armaments to spare, there¡¯s no doubt they would fight to the last man¡ªor worse yet, go out in a feeble blaze of glory much like their Ides counterpart. They achieved their goal of letting the majority of their fleet withdrawal to allied star-zones; a sacrifice they were willing to make. Wouldn¡¯t that make me a monster? No¡­ I already am one. Am I no better than my father¡ªthe very man I detest? I have no doubt he would do the same if he was here. What would Simon have done? To let them go after admirable tactics, or strike them down to weaken their potential strength? I clench my right first. This Federation detachment is at my mercy. They are no different from the dozens of Federation I have put to the sword. If I am to act now, it is no different than adding more sins to my name. All it takes is to utter, ¡®fire¡¯, and this force ceases to exist¡ªthe Federation may even go on as to report that I, the ever-ruthless Madame Scarface, had the entire portion of a Federation armada. They may come back with vengeance¡ªbigger than ever before, hell-bent on taking me down no matter what it takes. Slowly¡ªgradually¡ªI lower my hand, without uttering a word. My crew looks on in puzzlement. Is she hesitating? I can imagine them thinking; is this an order to fire? What is the Madame thinking? Frankly, I wish I could give them a reasonable answer. This fleet¡ªthe one that the junior officer is in¡ªthe miss Happ acted in the best interest to get the Federation armada as a whole out safely. She didn¡¯t act aggressively, for the most part, she wanted everyone to withdrawal. She could¡¯ve ripped my fleet to shreds earlier and didn¡¯t¡ªbecause in her words the purpose is to cut through the Scarface¡¯s fleet, not destroy it. And then she did the same thing when our fleets collided at Baltit. I was bested twice by someone who¡¯s most likely a lowly officer and was incredibly lucky enough to assume command. If things had turned out differently there would be no fleet left to speak off that I would worry about. I would¡¯ve more or less obliterated this entire Federation fleet with ease. A scoff escapes my lips. I raise my right hand to massage my scar tissue. ¡°¡­That battlecruiser¡­ the Yilan, was it?¡± I return my gaze to the image display of the battered battlecruiser, ¡°this fleet¡­ rather, that Yilan¡ª and by extent the junior officer¡­ they put up an impressive defense. They weren¡¯t bloodthirsty or craving for battle. They wanted to survive¡­ after all the blood I spilled, I will spare them¡­ spare them from a further incursion into Toscana.¡± I proceed toward the flight of stairs and gesture to the radio operator on the way down, ¡°order the fleet to hold fire. Anyone who dares defy my order, I will personally slay them. Do I make myself clear? I wish to meet with the commander of that ship¡ªthe Yilan. Prepare a shuttle for me as soon as you can¡ªand open a channel with the Yilan informing them of my decision.¡± To a crowd of confusion comes equally baffled affirmative grunts, but the oversized man clears his throat to get my attention. ¡°Are you sure you want to do this, Madame? And even if you are¡­ do you wish for armed escorts?¡± He asks with a little worry, but I shake my head. ¡°They wouldn¡¯t dare; I am the sole reason they are alive right now after all¡ªif they kill me it will only end in a massacre. And the staff of this Yilanhas somewhat of a competent crew on it¡­ so I shall go alone. If I bring people along with me, it will most certainly bring misunderstandings and result in bloodshed¡­ and we have committed too much of it already, and many more will come in the Rouen corridor. But here it will have no purpose.¡± ¡°Very well, Madame¡­¡± The burly subordinate sighs with a resigning shrug. As I make my way to the shuttle, I can¡¯t help but clench my chest in mild excitement. Chapter 49: Memories of Toscana | Reflections
SHORTY AFTER ENCIRCLEMENT
THE MSN YILAN
The dark blue paper bag I have pressed to my lips resembles the likes of a raisin. The next moment, with a single long huff the likes of the crumbled-textured bag expands to the size of an inflated balloon. And with another suck of air, the ball reverts to a papery raisin. For maybe the last thirty minutes or so, this is the only thing that keeps me preoccupied; the only thing that has been somewhat calming me down. I failed. I did what I could, but I couldn¡¯t get us to safety. My rather risky plan to deceive the Scarface and their fleet were successful¡­ even though I have to waste a few ships in the process. Mazzareli found it an acceptable loss¡ªit''s better the pirates'' overcommit to destroying them since that means the pirates wouldn''t be able to bolster their capabilities with them. But¡­ something about it just couldn¡¯t sit right with me. The tactic didn¡¯t see any losses¡­ but we essentially threw away a lot of taxpayer money and the hard work of dozens of Frankish and Metropolitan ship constructors. Regardless¡­ we saved lives. With that thought, I take another intense huff from the bag and subsequent inhale. My plan was executed better than I expected¡ªeven more so as we broke through the whole pirate force. I never expected the rearguard to also be as successful. What¡¯s more, even though we managed to safely protect the commodore¡¯s fleet retreat as it retreated to the Bordeaux region, the Yilan- led detachment was unable to link up with the rest of the fleet. I failed to factor in that we burned through our fuel reserves at the worst possible moment. And that¡¯s not even factoring in the fact that we got encircled. And that collectively, our reserves of missiles were depleted. It would be a complete understatement to say we are sitting ducks. The bag inflates and withers more frequently, and the resulting lightheadedness leaves me ever so dizzy. My chest aches with pain. I sit curled up against the wall, knees to chest. While I sit here various personnel pass by, with none paying any particular attention to me, some are laden with swaying ammo belts or lugging around bipods for turret emplacements. Some platoon-sized groups, all wearing lightly armored torso armor, march from the bridge with carbines slung around their backs. Occasionally, there are teams of marines clad in armored plating holding recoilless rifles or halberds. Everyone has been on edge, and rightfully so. It¡¯s only been an hour or so since we faced encirclement, and with encirclement comes the possibility of boarding parties. The horror stories I have heard during my time at the academy seem all too real now¡ªeven if we don¡¯t get boarded, there is the possibility we will be obliterated. The Scarface takes no prisoners. If it was any other pirate force, they would merely take your stores and let you go, most likely. But this is no merely pirate force; this is the Scarface. To get yourself encircled by them is tantamount to assured death. I continue to breathe in and out of the paper bag. The bag shifts from the shape of a circular balloon to a crumbled raisin, and so on. Aside from the Yilan¡¯s marines, the majority of us¡ªincluding me¡ªhave small caliber pistols as our means of self-defense. I lower my bag briefly and glance over at my right to my still-holstered gun, which I have taken off from my belt earlier. Its cover is still on, and I haven¡¯t touched the safety. Years ago, when I went on a trip to Indo-China with my father and the Trachenbergs, I went out hunting with my father one day and killed a deer. It was the first and last time I have ever taken another being¡¯s life. And although I felt nothing from it at the time, thinking back on it now, I can¡¯t help but feel a little guilty. That deer lived its life to the fullest, probably, and was abruptly snuffed out by a naive young girl who wanted to bond with her father. It didn¡¯t get killed because I was hungry. It didn¡¯t get killed because I was threatened. I killed it for no reason. I killed an animal that had no means to defend itself from me. I literally killed it for the sake of it¡ªand maybe not even that. ¡®Victoria¡­ how did it feel¡ªto take another living thing¡¯s life?¡¯ The words of father to an innocent Victoria echo in the back of my mind. I tighten my grip on the paper bag, ¡®there will come a day when you will have to take the life of another human in the military.¡¯ The grip on the paper bag tightens so hard that I end up digging into my palm. I glance over at the abandoned pistol. Perhaps my dad¡¯s words were correct. Perhaps any moment now, I will have to point this pistol at another human being and pull the trigger. To take another¡¯s life who had grown up and matured only to be killed by a single, tiny bullet. And if I don¡¯t, then they will do much the same to me¡ªthey have the means to defend themselves, and the two of us face equally grave danger. If I think hard enough, I can still picture the poor deer¡¯s frozen eyes as my dad and I secured it to haul it to our vehicle. Why did this happen? How could I have prevented this? Why was I one to be killed? I can imagine the poor deer thinking about such things. All those corpses I saw earlier¡ªthe likes of that dead girl from before. People who died in ship to ship combat¡­ do they experience such thoughts before they die? They do not even get to see what killed them¡ªone moment they are alive, and the next they are choked by oxygen deprivation or killed by a nuclear warhead thrown at them thousands of kilometers away. Compared to that¡­ ¡°Victoria?¡± I look up to Friederika standing over me. She holds in either hand cups where steam rises from either ¡°sorry¡­ is now a bad thing for you?¡± She asks trying to smile, but it¡¯s clear she¡¯s been worried sick about me. I would be too if my best friend suddenly broke down in a panic and ran off in the middle of combat maneuvers. ¡°No¡­ you didn¡¯t, you came at a good time, actually¡­¡± I pull the heavy holstered pistol towards me so Friederika has space to sit. She first leans down and hands me the hot cup, and peering inside the steamy green liquid seems to be tea if I have to guess. ¡°I figured you might want something to calm you down, so I got us some herbal stuff,¡± Friederika says quietly, but with reassurance ¡°I hope it¡¯s not too hot.¡± I shake my head, ¡°it¡¯s just the right temperature, I can drink it just fine without burning my tongue off,¡± and with that, we drink in silence for the next couple of moments as platoons of marines march past us in either direction of the hallway. ¡°Prince was worried about you, you know¡ªand so was Mazzareli, and when Margot found out she was worried sick, too¡­¡± Friederika says with a lowered voice, her eyes peering into her cup. She gently rubs a part of it with her index fingers and thumbs, ¡°I¡­ was worried sick, too, you know.¡± I nod my head with gentle grunts, and my gaze falls back to my pistol again. ¡°Say¡­ Kiki,¡± Friederika looks at me curiously, ¡°¡ªhave you ever¡­ do you think¡­¡± I cup my fingers around the cup more, unsure of how to proceed with this ¡°¡ªdo you remember back when we went hunting in Indo-China a couple of years ago?¡± Friederika gives me a gentle nod, her eyebrows slightly tilted in a frown ¡°back then, you asked me if something happened between me and my dad, and¡­ I didn¡¯t want to ask you something that was kinda sensitive at the time¡­¡± Friederika looks mildly confused now, ¡°what exactly are you getting at, huh?¡± ¡°When my dad and I were carrying the deer we hunted back to camp, he asked me if¡­¡± I pause, instinctively reaching down to stroke the crumbled bag, and cleared my throat before continuing ¡°he asked me how it felt to take the life of a living thing, and at the time¡­ I didn¡¯t know how to respond. I felt happy that I managed to make my father proud, but¡­ I didn¡¯t factor in the animal¡¯s feelings, and¡­¡± I reach out for my holstered pistol and flipping open the leather covering I caress its cold grip, ¡°at the time, I wanted to ask you if you ever hunted an animal before, and how you might¡¯ve¡­ experienced that kind of thing,¡± I pull my hand back to rub my brow ¡°oh¡­ blimey, this is kinda embarrassing to ask now for some reason,¡± I finish apologetically, glancing over at Friederika. She takes a similar position to me, with her legs bent and to her chest. She had finished her cup of tea and had subtly given it a little squeeze while I talked. She continued to gently rub the crushed container with her fingers. ¡°¡­I can see how that can be a little unsettling to ask, and even now, gosh¡­¡± Friederika says trailing off, she draws out her pistol from her hip and slightly extends it out pointing at the ground. The safely on it is still on, and I imagine it isn¡¯t loaded with a magazine. ¡°During the family trip, I don¡¯t think the thought ever really crossed my mind¡­ but it did occur to me when we were doing field training at Lepanto,¡± Friederika clears her throat and her thumb caresses the side of the pistol grip as she continues ¡°¡ªwhen we were doing actual combat training¡­ I remember thinking to myself; ¡®if these were real bullets, there¡¯s no way I could pull the trigger and kill another being¡¯,¡± the dark-haired sub-lieutenant scoffs, ¡°that¡¯s probably why I was tagged so easily early on¡­ ¡°I froze up when the shooting started. It was fun and games then, of course¡­ but I had a sense of fear that I could¡¯ve very well died if it was real, and now that we¡¯re here¡­¡± Friederika pauses for a moment to holster her pistol ¡°the possibility was very real, and it¡¯s still scary¡­¡± she gives me the glimmer of a smile, and pulls me closer to her by the shoulder ¡°but I figured, to bloody hell with the pirates if I still have you!¡± ¡°Was?¡± I ask in surprise ¡°aren¡¯t we still at risk of getting taken over by boarding parties?¡± Friederika lets out a sigh, ¡°right before I left the bridge, I think they were getting a transmission from the pirate fleet, the Castleford, or whatever it¡¯s called¡­¡± ¡°The Castelforte,¡± I correct wryly ¡°did you manage to hear what it was about?¡± Friederika only shakes her head. ¡°No¡­ I think I was already out of earshot when we opened channels¡­ well, on my way here from the mess hall I overheard some staff passing by that the pirates were offering a ceasefire.¡± I rest my head against the wall and look upward; a ceasefire? There¡¯s no way I heard that correctly. ¡°What makes you think it¡¯s a ceasefire? If they wanted a ceasefire, then why are all these marines marching around armed to the teeth?¡± Friederika shrugs, ¡°maybe we don¡¯t trust them, could you trust a pirate¡ªthe Scarface guy of all people, to uphold something like that? It could be they¡¯re aiming to get us to lower our guard¡­ or something.¡± ¡°Well, if that were the case, I don¡¯t think it¡¯s working in the slightest if we¡¯re so on-edge¡­¡± I slowly get to my feet and offer Friederika a hand ¡°c¡¯mon, let¡¯s get to the bridge and find out what¡¯s going on. Knowing you, you might¡¯ve misheard something again.¡± You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. Friederika scoffs at my jab but helps herself up with my support.
We weren¡¯t too far from the bridge¡ªI had only ventured a few corridors away from it during my episode earlier. We hear an announcement over the speakers confirming what Friederika had overheard; the pirate fleet under the Scarface has offered a ceasefire. Orders coming down from Mazzareli issued a stand-down to all personnel in the meantime. ¡°I wonder what the stand-down order entails?¡± I ask offhandedly as we enter the main bridge room. Friederika only shrugs her shoulders in wonder. We both scan the room in search of the XO¡ªnow, rather, assuming the position of CO¡ªbut to no avail. There is, however, Prince and Casavant. When Friederika and I wave and get closer to them we give proper salutes. ¡°Are you in a better condition now, Ensign Happ-Schwarzenberger?¡± Prince asks not averting his eyes from the tablet he holds ¡°do let me know if you need to take a rest in the medical bay.¡± ¡°Thank you for the offer, Prin¡ª¡± for a split second Prince eyeballs me before looking back at his tablet ¡°¡­Lieutenant, I¡­ think I¡¯m okay now, I¡¯m just a little shaken is all. Um¡­¡± Prince looks up at me and then to Casavant ¡°we um¡­ I heard from Kik¡ªSub-Lieutenant Trachenberg that the pirates opened a channel with us earlier?¡± Prince hands the tablet over to Casavant, who excuses himself from us and heads off to another portion of the bridge. As I watch him off, I notice the window shutters were still sealed tight, and the camera monitors showed dozens of pirate ships drifting around in staggered lines that circulate our force menacingly. Even without the prospect of boarding parties, the Scarface could¡¯ve had us all cut down without remorse. ¡°Happ?¡± I snap back to attention, ¡°ah, oh! Sorry¡­ I was just¡­¡± I stammer, but Prince pays it no attention. ¡°Yes, that is correct. Lieutenant-Commander Mazzareli weighed his options and announced to the rest of the fleet that we will accept the conditions of the ceasefire. The pirate captain has suggested an audience with Mazzareli. So they should be here momentarily if they aren¡¯t already.¡± ¡°Er¡­ by the pirate captain, do you mean¡­?¡± Friederika pipes in with a cautious question. Prince only nods and turns to face the monitors. ¡°I mean none other than the Madame Scarface, of course,¡± those words sent a shiver down my spine. The Scarface? Coming here directly? If I didn¡¯t know any better this could be a trap, ¡°rest assured¡ªit is highly unlikely they will bring any escorts. The person we spoke to insisted that their captain will come alone. She does not want to cause any misunderstandings on her part, or so it seems.¡± ¡°Wait,¡± I frown ¡°if that¡¯s the case¡­¡± Friederika and I look at each other in confusion ¡°wasn¡¯t there an order just earlier telling everyone to stand down? Why were there squads of armed marines stomping around? I can¡¯t imagine that¡¯ll leave a good impression on the Madame¡­¡± Prince slaps the side of his head and cuts loose an exasperated sigh, ¡°I told those marine commanders beforehand that there should be no need to give a cold welcoming¡­ they shared the sentiment that Mazzareli and I were too trusting of the pirates, but they should¡¯ve still told their men to stand down regardless¡­ if they haven¡¯t, it¡¯s a good chance that we could all be dead by now in retaliation.¡± Friederika gives me a nudge, and I¡¯m reminded that I don¡¯t see Mazzareli anywhere. ¡°Well¡­ that aside, you said the Scarface should be here by now, right?¡± Prince nods ¡°does that mean Mazz¡ªLieutenant-Commander Mazzareli already met up with her?¡± ¡°That is most likely the case,¡± Prince replied. ¡°Um¡­ where are they now? Would you happen to know?¡± I ask. Prince turns back to face us, and peers st me in particular¡ªbut his gaze falls to the holstered pistol st my hip. ¡°Naturally, he left for the shuttle bay¡­ but aside from that, I do have not the slightest idea. They might still be there, or they might¡¯ve gone somewhere else¡­ did you need something from him?¡± ¡°Ah, no¡­ nothing in particular¡­ if you don¡¯t need anything from me, Prince, I¡¯ll¡­ um, be in my room.¡± Prince slaps the side of his head again in an angry sigh but doesn¡¯t protest like our usual routine. And with that, Friederika and I excuse ourselves from the bridge room.
Friederika and I spent the time in silence on the way to my room. It isn¡¯t until we reach my front door does Friederika break the silence. ¡°Say¡­ Vicky, are you really feeling alright?¡± she tugs the sleeve of my arm ¡°if you want, I can leave you alone for a while¡­ I can always drop by later when you¡¯re feeling better.¡± ¡°¡­You can stay with me if you want,¡± I reply ¡°but don¡¯t blame me if you become MIA in my room.¡± Friederika cracks a mild smile. As I reach for the doorknob, I am interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Friederika and I turn around simultaneously to face several concerned sailors. ¡°Erm¡­ do you need something from me?¡± I ask after the servicemen give us salutes. ¡°Ensign Victoria Happ-Shortenburger, I take it?¡± The older-looking sailor with a neatly trimmed mustache asks. I give a nod in acknowledgment, trying to refrain from being irritated. ¡°The XO requested you come to the CO¡¯s office as soon as you can.¡± ¡°Eh, me? For what purpose¡­?¡± I ask while glancing at Friederika. ¡°The XO didn¡¯t give us any details,¡± the younger-looking orange-haired sailor says nonchalantly. I can¡¯t help but wonder how that feels rather uncharacteristic of Mazzareli. ¡°I wonder if he finished his meeting with the Scarface? In any case¡­¡± I turn to Friederika ¡°did you want to tag along?¡± But she waves her hand. ¡°I think I¡¯ll wait until after your summon ends, I¡¯ll stay in your room until you get back¡­ serious stuff isn¡¯t my thing!¡± With that Friederika helps herself into my dumpster of a cabin. She must really have a death warrant to go in there unintended but at least I¡¯m not the one to sign it¡­ wait, isn¡¯t this technically accessory to murder? The sailors and I give the usual salutes, and then I begin heading for Buttermilch¡¯s former lodgings.
I do not see most people along the way. Not marines, or any stray officers. I wonder if most folk are still at the shuttle bay? My thoughts are cut short when I nearly bump into someone. ¡°Ah! Forgive me, I was¡­¡± I stammer, but looking up I realize it¡¯s Mazzareli. He looks at me with stern eyes, tight-lipped, ¡°¡­Mazzareli? I thought you were in Buttermilch''s office¡­¡± ¡°That was the case, Ensign Happ-Schwarzenberger,¡± is his reply ¡°but I decided to return to the bridge after finishing my business with the pirate commander.¡± ¡°I heard from some servicemen you wanted me for something, sir?¡± I ask, and Mazzareli turns to face the way he was coming from. ¡°Actually, I didn¡¯t need you specifically¡ªthe Madame Scarface requested¡­ rather, wished to speak to the junior officer by the name of Hap-Scwtazenburger, and although I was confused by what she meant at first¡­¡± he turns back to face me ¡°I realized she meant you.¡± My legs freeze up, and my balled fists tighten before I even know it. A lump forms in my throat, and it is nigh impossible to clear it, ¡°I-I¡­ s¡ªshe wants to see me?¡± I stammer over the words. I don¡¯t know if I should feel flattered or baffled! ¡°What could she possibly want with someone like¡­ wait,¡± I pause, rubbing the side of my garrison cap, ¡°¡ªwhy¡­ how does she even know who I am?¡± Mazzareli crosses his arms, and perches his brow, ¡°your guess is as good as mine¡­ it is likely they have intercepted our communication systems, and heard you at some point. But it¡¯s not important now¡­¡± he gestures down the hallway ¡°she may still be in his office¡ªButtermilch¡¯s cabin. I told her you may or may not come, so there¡¯s no telling if she got impatient and left for her shuttle already.¡± With one last sigh, he turns back to face me, ¡°but before you go, hand me your weapon.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± The word slips through carelessly. ¡°I have faith you won¡¯t do anything rash that could cause a crisis to arise. I understand that you had a breakdown earlier¡ªif you so much had another one, I wouldn¡¯t want to risk the pirate fleet rescinding the ceasefire and massacring us.¡± ¡°Ah¡­ right,¡± I utter as I slip off the holster and carefully hand it over to him. The lieutenant-commander receives the holstered pistol and sidesteps out of the way. ¡°Don¡¯t let her wait too long, Victoria,¡± and with that, I excuse myself from the presence of the lieutenant-commander.
I stand before the familiar sight of the pasty-white steel door. It feels like it has been forever since I was last here. The nervousness of trying to convince Buttermilch about the fate of Operation Lucky Alphonse¡ª and the resolve I needed to look like a strong and capable person. And just like that time, Friederika isn¡¯t here to give me the support I need¡­ and I need her now more than ever. What could this Scarface possibly want with me¡­? The thought continues to puzzle me even as I extend a fist towards the door to knock. But I can¡¯t bring myself to do it. This is the Scarface we¡¯re talking about. The ruthless mass-murderer who strikes fear into Federation naval officers everywhere. Mazzareli did tell her that I may not come, after all¡­ My chest tightens up to the point where I wish I still had the bag with me¡ªmy heart beats with such intensity that I find myself continuously short of breath. My outstretched hand rescinds to clench my chest. Maybe I shouldn¡¯t do this after all. I should just head back. What business do I have with some ruthless killer? Why would I want to meet the one who has outright murdered Buttermilch? A bloodthirsty lunatic who is responsible for all those sailors who will never return home to loving family and friends? A step back. And another. My fist trembles as it clenches my chest even tighter. I can¡¯t do this. It wouldn¡¯t be right. I turn to leave for my room¡ª And then freeze in my tracks. With my back to the door, I hear the whoosh of the pasty-white steel door as it slides open. All the while, my heart skips several beats. With enough courage, I clear my throat and look at the doorway. And for a split second¡ªan eternal second¡ªmy heart stops pulsating. A woman no taller than me, with flowing, raven black hair that contrasts with my own. A pair of red-hued eyes¡ªmuch like my own¡ªlocks eyes with me; her dark thin eyebrows raised in mild surprise. She wears a woolly-textured cloak, a lighter shade of brown, tan even. An oversized belt divides her red-and-black shirting and dark gray leggings. Around her neck are two golden disk necklaces. But her most defining feature is one that sends a cold spell down my spine; a disfiguring scar snakes it¡¯s way from her left cheek, through the bridge of her nose, and finally stopping at her right eyebrow. In contrast to her milky-white skin, the tissue is darker-toned¡­ a scar that must be well past maturity. ¡°The¡­ Ma¡­ ¡­ Mada¡­¡± I utter nearly paralyzed from shock. Not once do either of us break any eye contact. The raven-haired woman recovers quicker than I do. She straightens herself, dusts her hands on her cloak, and clears her throat with a gentle ¡®ahem¡¯. ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you¡­ Miss Happ.¡± Chapter 50: Memories of Toscana | The Words From That Day The raven-haired Madame takes a step forward with that slight smile. In response, I take a few steps back. No sooner enough do I run out of free space to distance myself with; the cold, unforgiving steel wall cushions me from any more steps. The unrelenting, yet oddly friendly gaze of the Madame pierces through me all the same with each of her subsequent steps. Each step she takes, my chest pounds harder in anticipation of what she¡¯ll do with me. ¡°My,¡± she starts, brushing the tip of her finger against her lips ¡°have I frightened you, Miss Happ? You need not worry¡­¡± the Madame has stopped directly in front of me¡ªso close that I can see the terrified reflection of a blonde in her eyes. ¡°I do not intend to do any harm to you,¡± she scoffs with a sly smile, and I must have been imaging a slight wince out of the corner of her eye ¡°if I did so, I would certainly face consequences; and if I faced consequences, then my fleet will finish off yours.¡± ¡°W-¡­what do you want from me?¡± I sputter without a second thought. It¡¯s as though I find myself shrinking before the very individual I had, from my Academic years up until a few seconds ago, had taken to be a merciless, ruthless genocidal killer. A monster¡ªa demon who takes many shapes and forms as though to deceive the survivors she lets go as warnings. The Madame extends a hand to me that makes me clench my eyes and fists. When I open my eyes again, she has rescinded her hand. ¡°I merely wish to¡­¡± she averts her eyes and furrows her brow in thought. Without another word, the raven Scarface turns her back to me and takes a few steps back towards the door, which gives me a second to take deep breaths and clench my chest. The Scarface turns around¡ªagain with that foxy smile of hers. ¡°I wanted to see for myself the person¡­ the junior officer who performed such impressive exploits to outwit me.¡± An embarrassing warmth burns through my cheeks at this awkward flattery. ¡°U-um¡­ just so that we¡¯re¡­ on the same page, you are the¡­ er, ¡®Madame Scarface¡¯, correct?¡± I ask without much thought and then wanting to kick myself for always blurting stupid stuff. Again, there is that wince. The Scarface rubs the side of her disfigured cheek and cuts loose a gentle sigh. She closes her eyes before locking eye contact with me, ¡°as much as I detest that barbaric name¡ªyes, that is indeed me.¡± It only makes me wonder¡­ then what were all those rumors of her being different descriptions? Subordinates acting on her behalf, then? ¡°That does make me beg the question, however¡­¡± the Madame Scarface rubs her chin and squints at me ¡°I fear I might¡¯ve jumped to some conclusions, but¡­¡± I blink, not realizing her cheeks have gotten a little rosy ¡°this is rather embarrassing to ask now, but¡­ you are the junior officer that I asked for, correct? The Ensign Happ-Schzwatzborg¡­¡± she trails off with a quieter voice, her rosy cheeks get a little redder as if knowing she has mispronounced my surname. For someone who I have always mistaken for a borderline serial killer, she is somewhat cute. Not to mention her rather gentle way of speaking eloquently. It¡¯s still hard to take in that this is, in fact, the Madame Scarface herself. It was my turn to scoff¡ªa scoff that makes me clasp my hand over my mouth to mask a grin and I avert eye contact so I don¡¯t see the Madame¡¯s reaction. I try to quickly suppress the smile before letting my hand drop to my side. ¡°Yes, I am Ensi¡ª¡± I bite the bottom of my lip ¡°no¡­ sorry, let me start over¡ªyes, I am Victoria Happ-Schwarzenberger.¡± She carefully mouths the words with an averted gaze before looking into my eyes once more, ¡°Vee-toria¡­ Happ, Schwarzen¡­ nng¡­ that aside,¡± with a somewhat smooth recovery, the Madame smiles at me graciously while rubbing the side of her disfigured face ¡°if you are up for it, I would like to continue our discussion over a cup of tea,¡± she offers gesturing with one hand inside. ¡°A cup of tea?¡± I ask as she turns her back to me and heads inside. My gaze drops to my hip where my holstered pistol previously was. Instinctively my hand hovers over where it would be¡ªand I make a balled fist. ¡°¡­I don¡¯t mind¡­¡± I reply dryly, pushing myself away from the wall towards the door.
It¡¯s as if I am stepping through a time capsule to¡ªwhat would now be a day ago, but it feels so much longer than that. The orchid-red adorned-room is almost exactly as it was before; out of style with our military navy-blue uniforms. The only thing missing is¡­ ¡°¡ªI have heard from your superior¡­¡± The soft-spoken voice of the raven-haired Scarface whips me back to attention. She still has her back to me and stands near the oak table that was once the commander¡¯s, ¡°that he, unfortunately, did not survive his mortal wounds¡­¡± with one hand, she strokes the surface of the dark-oak table with a flat hand and partially closes her fingers. I do not say anything and a moment of silence fills the uneasy air. She turns to me with heavy eyes averted to the floor before me, ¡°it is rather unfortunate, I would say¡­ and I do no doubt you have deep hatred toward me,¡± with a deep breath she raises her eyes to mine ¡°I would even say it is regretful that things turned out the way they have.¡± ¡°Regretful?¡± I retort, before biting down a little too hard on my bottom lip. The Scarface clears her throat and leans against the edge of the table, her bangs veil her face as she looks downward. ¡°¡­I did not intend to ram your ship¡ªOlg¡­¡± she takes a short breath ¡°my faithful subordinate who I hold dear disobeyed a direct order to do anything rash. I believed it posed a risk to my plans and¡­¡± the Scarface takes another breath ¡°I was worried she would pose a risk to her and her crew if things had gone differently, and indeed, Miss¡­ Happ, when I heard you announce to your fleet about your plans, I was skeptical.¡± The colors drain from my face, ¡°how much¡­ how much did you hear of it, exactly?¡± I ask, blinking rapidly. The Scarface remains silent. She departs from the oak desk toward the table towards the tray occupied by tea-ware, which I remember in the past Buttermilch helped himself to alcohol. She takes a white porcelain cup and helps herself to a serving of steamy black tea. Then, still, without another word she pours another one and puts both of them on separate coasters. She turns to face me with teas in either hand. ¡°My Taiga¡ª the Federation battleship that rammed you¡ªwhich I believe your military still refers to as the Jaguar¡­¡± the name alone makes an eyebrow twitch: even shutting my eyes the image of a penetrated, yet calm Buttermilch is burned into my eyelids. ¡°¡­Is still capable of receiving Federation transmissions,¡± she holds out one coaster to me with a wincing smile ¡°and if I may add, I believe your transmission to the fleet back then was easily decrypted,¡± she finishes with a casual grin. Baffled, I walk towards the gesturing Madame and take the offered coaster from her with a little caution. We both sit down at the nearby sofa across from each other. ¡°I think I get it, but¡­¡± I peer into the pitch-black liquid that reflects a frowning blonde before looking back at the Scarface. Interestingly, she makes a scrunched face after taking a sip from hers: does she not like it, I take it? ¡°Why are you telling me this? Should you be telling this since we are¡­ enemies and all?¡± The young Madame swallows her drink and sets the white cup down on its ceramic coaster. Like me, she peers into her cup momentarily before releasing a sigh. She raises her head. ¡°The battle is over, Vee-toria. I think for all intent and purposes, there is no hostility between us, at least not any longer. If I had my way¡­¡± although it is subtle I notice she is gripping the teacup a little tighter ¡°there would have been no bloodshed¡ªthis could have been all avoided. Your commander would still even be alive. But regardless of obstacles on my part, there could¡¯ve been so much more pointless massacres had Olga obeyed my orders, or even perhaps if you or another officer had done something¡­ equally less rash,¡± she slides her fingers through the cup¡¯s handle and carefully caresses the cup¡¯s exterior ¡°I found it implausible that you would actually go through with your plan¡­ and I hate to admit it, but it caught me off-guard, Vetoria; I was bested, and yet you did not capitalize on eliminating me¡ªnot once, but twice¡ª¡± our eyes lock contact ¡°you truly did not intend to fight, did you?¡± I take a sip from the cup and gulp down the bitter contents: I can see why she would find this repulsive, but if she is bearing through it for the sake of hospitality, then so shall I. I look into the half-filled cup at an intrigued blonde unable to drum up an answer. ¡°I think¡­ this whole operation into your territory¡­ um¡­¡± I twirl some of my golden bangs ¡°I tried to be adamant that this operation would be a disaster¡­ my direct superiors were on board with it, and when the time came¡­¡± I take another sip of the bitter liquid and swallow it to clear a stuffy throat ¡°I went through so much trouble to get my voice heard¡­ even though I¡¯m only a lowly good for nothing bloody officer, no better than a school cadet¡­ um¡­ ¡°I put so much faith into my commander¡ªButtermilch. B-before the plan was put in motion to¡­ um, split the fleet¡ªthat¡¯s what I was so against. I was so fearful of you or someone else catching us off-guard, but according to Buttermilch, my¡­ fleet commander made a decision against better¡­ judgment and I got angry at Buttermilch,¡± I look up at the Madame briefly ¡°I got angry and did some stupid bloody thing, and never got to apologize¡­ ¡°This was his chance¡ªthis was our chance to prevent another disaster from happening¡ªto break the trend of incompetent decision-making. That was Buttermilch¡¯s dream; to rise through the ranks and prevent another Jaguar¡­¡± although my vision is getting rather watery, I thought I saw the Madame flinch for a split second before I resume ¡°¡­and there was nothing we could do about it¡­ there was false hope¡­ that there would be reinforcements from L¨¹beck!¡± I lower my head and try to wipe away some beads of tears, ¡°Buttermilch¡­ and all of the others died because I wasn¡¯t more forceful¡­ Buttermilch died before he could accomplish his dream. So many hopes and dreams crushed in a matter of hours¡­ ¡°There was nothing I could do. There was nothing anyone could do.¡± I didn¡¯t have to¡ªor maybe I didn¡¯t want to¡ªlook up at the Madame as I heard the squeak of her sofa indicating she had gotten up. The direction of footsteps heading around me tells me she is either leaving the room or¡ª A creaking sound originates from the seat next to me, and the subsequent heavy weight pressing into the seat tells me the Madame sat down¡ªnext to me. My first instinct is to stand up¡ªbut a hand wraps around my shoulder and keeps me situated. I raise my head slightly to see the Madame staring ahead with a slightly lowered head, with a smile that masks sadness if anything. ¡°You must have gone through a lot, Vetoria¡­ ¡± she says quietly and looks me in the eyes ¡°¡ªbut you are also too harsh on yourself¡± without realizing it the Scarface has pressed me closer to her in a partial hug ¡°there was nothing you could¡¯ve done¡­ but at the same time,¡± I feel a hand¡ªa rather cold hand¡ªstroke the back of my head ¡°at the end of everything you accomplished what he couldn¡¯t¡­ you avoided a total catastrophe¡­¡± ¡°if you didn¡¯t take the helm, there would be no force left to speak of¡­ and neither of us would be here right now. I¡¯m sure if your commanding officer was still alive, he would think highly of your efforts.¡± Those words tug at my heart if only a little. ¡°You should feel more confident of your exploits¡­ take confidence in the fact that you managed to¡ªby your own merits¡ªaccomplish what almost no officer over the past years have strived to do¡ªall in the selfless name of self-perseverance, rather than¡­ glory-seeking. Some have died, yes, but by your words you were able to allow for many more to survive the ordeal¡­ and hopefully return home safely.¡± The Madame stops petting me and releases me from her hold. She gets up and moves to her side of the table to retrieve her tea. She downs the rest with a brief but bitter face. ¡°This¡­ tea, it was prepared by Mazzarelia¡­ I believe his name was. But I didn¡¯t spend much time with him. We spoke very few words¡ªmostly discussing peace terms and very little else. I was more interested in you,¡± at those words, I couldn¡¯t help but hide my blushing cheeks with locks of hair. To hear that from the Madame from all people is a little¡­ ¡°It¡¯s good, isn¡¯t it?¡± She says in a rather unconvincing manner, ¡°if you like, I can pour you some more.¡± It would make me feel guilty to turn her down after all that, so I nod my head and we both make our way over to the tray to refill on tea. I stand adjacent to her as she proceeds to carefully pour the beverage into our cups. A part of me is still unable to believe I am having a rather somewhat casual conversation with this woman, who practically looks the same age as I do. A thought crosses my mind: she couldn¡¯t possibly be the same age as me, could she? ¡°Here you go, Victoria,¡± she says holding the coaster in front of me, which I accept. ¡°I just realized¡­ you actually pronounced my name right that time,¡± I remark offhandedly. I look over in time to notice she averts her gaze, cheeks luminescent. ¡°M-my apologies¡­ was I mispronouncing it wrong this whole time?¡± She asks coolly. A scoff escapes my lips, and I briefly cover my mouth with a hand in the hopes that the Madame doesn¡¯t notice. ¡°Um¡­ it¡¯s fine, a lot of people get my surname wrong, so it¡¯s no biggie, really¡­¡± the Madame cracks a smile despite a mini wince out of the corner of her mouth. After we finish filling up our cups we make our way back to the sofas, where we again sit across from each other spending the next few moments in silence taking sips from our grossly bitter tea. ¡°Er¡­ I¡¯ve been kind of curious about what you mean earlier¡­ when you mentioned you didn¡¯t wish to fight. Since you said it doesn¡¯t matter now that the battle is over¡­ er, if it¡¯s not too rude of me to ask, what made you¡­ come to that decision?¡± The Madame looks up for a few moments at the nearby porthole, and then at me. ¡°Why I didn¡¯t want to fight¡­¡± she says under her breath, she takes a few deep breaths and sets her cup down on its coaster. ¡°I have my fair share of incompetent¡­ superiors, you could say. I would even go as far as to say I am fighting enemies in front and at home,¡± she says with a wince. She grabs the cup for a quick gulp and shakes her head from the bitterness of the taste before she continues, ¡°I believe my fight is an impossible one¡­ it is no miracle that I¡¯ve¡­ won, if you can call it that here¡­¡± Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. But before she continues, a sudden thought springs to mind: a variable that I once discussed with Buttermilch in this room not even a day ago. The one thing that I figured would make a Mafia relief force unlikely: ¡°Rouen,¡± I utter, springing to my feet. ¡°There is a Federation fleet at the Rouen corridor, isn¡¯t there?!¡± The Madame stiffens up, slightly alarmed with eyes that widen before she recollects herself. She opens her mouth to speak, but closes it and looks at me in confusion. ¡°That is correct¡­ but, I was under the impression¡­¡± she tilts her head with furrowed eyebrows. Realizing that I may be coming off as rude, I regain my composure and settle down into my seat. ¡°Sorry¡­ er, from your point of view, you must¡¯ve figured we were operating in a pincer movement?¡± She nods her head: on the contrary, I shake my head. ¡°The whole concept of our operation¡­ what my commodore calls Lucky Alphonse, relied on us acting independently from the main Federation fleet¡­ he wanted¡­ fame and glory for himself to deny our admiral the prestige of claiming it for himself,¡± I can¡¯t help but wince ¡°truth be told¡­ we have no idea where the main Federation armada even was until now. You see¡­ it was on a separate campaign to suppress pirate havens. Our force, er¡­ we were merely sent to the Franks for other reasons. But to think the admiral is at the Rouen corridor as we speak¡­¡± I sink more into my seat with a scoff, and bury my face into my hands. This changes everything. ¡°Victoria¡­ now that you have this knowledge, what will you do with it? Will you inform your superiors and reformulate a plan to invade again?¡± The Madame inquires. I sit up straight. She has a stern look as if judging me for my future moves ¡°will you strike at me from behind; and exact revenge for your friends?¡± I rest my hands on my knees and lean forward in my seat, eyes to the floor. ¡°Revenge, huh¡­¡± I remark in a low laconic voice. ¡°Could I really seek revenge on someone who did not wish to fight in the first place?¡± I return my gaze to lock eyes with the Madame, ¡°neither of us wanted to fight and sought to seek peaceful solutions¡­ and we both failed in our cases,¡± the raven-haired Scarface nods in agreement. ¡°If I tried to convince my commodore to fight again with this knowledge, it would still cause bloodshed regardless¡ªnot just naval combat, I mean, but also subjugating the Sides at L¨¹beck and the planetary settlements¡­¡± ¡°That is true, my father¡ªthe Don, and his wife, have a lot of die-hard supporters that served as a deterrence to me launching a coup¡­¡± ¡°A¡­ coup?¡± I ask in puzzlement. I guess the Mafia isn¡¯t all rainbow and sunshine, either. The Madame gives a nod. ¡°I sought to overthrow the Don¡¯s government in our capital Side. But¡­¡± she narrows her gaze while swirling the tea in her cup, ¡°there was the prospect of needless bloodshed being spilled¡­ and there is no telling that my coup would even yield any results. I hoped to negotiate peace with whichever Federation fleet arrives first but there is no telling what that may accomplish, if at all. Thus, I was faced with rushing to deal with both Federation armadas with force,¡± she gulps down the rest of her tea in one long gulp. ¡°If I am to die, then I suppose it would be better to die in battle against the Federation than my own. ¡°There is no telling that¡ªeven if I were to defeat your Federation allies at Rouen, it would be made redundant if word reached the Don¡¯s wife of my attempted coup, and in the words of my mentor¡­ it is only a matter of time before I face the consequences.¡± A shiver down my spine and I can¡¯t help but feel sorry for this poor woman. ¡°To think you have it so rough¡­¡± I say quietly, staring into the abyssal surface of my tea. ¡°Madame¡­ er, if I may ask¡­¡± ¡°What is it, Miss Victoria?¡± ¡°Have you considered¡­ erm¡­ escaping in exile to¡­ say, the Frankish Realms? If by chance you face the risk, it would make the most sense, right? I mean¡­¡± I ask a rather puzzled Scarface. After her confusion subsides, she rubs her scarred cheek. ¡°What an odd suggestion,¡± she remarks ¡°but if I were to be discovered, I would in all likelihood suffer the same fate regardless. Although my father has no history to speak of with the Franks, there¡¯s no telling how they may feel towards me¡ªor my men, if they joined me in exile¡ªwould they accept me, or would they hand us over to Metropol?¡± I can¡¯t help but feel a little disheartened that I couldn¡¯t help and the feeling makes me sink back into my seat. The Madame cracks a small grin and joins me on the sofa. ¡°I do appreciate the thought of you trying to help me out of this predicament, Miss Happ, but you need not worry for me. Although our time together is rather short because of the circumstances we¡¯re in I am happy to have met such an interesting young figure such as yourself¡­ even if you may be perhaps the first and last person to interact with me before I die.¡± She¡¯s prepared to die¡­ ¡°Rouen¡­ so after you¡¯re done here, you will have to march back there and¡­?¡± I whisper trailing off. There is a moment of silence and the Madame gets up to walk towards the nearby porthole. ¡°Does it upset you, that I have to slaughter more of your comrades for a pointless conflict with a resolution that bears no real fruit?¡± She asks without looking back. I let out a sigh and clench my fists. Does it have to be this way? I spring up from my seat and step towards her. ¡°M-Madame¡­! I think¡­ is there no other way to avoid this? Maybe¡­maybe you could negotiate a ceasefire of some sort. It¡¯s not too late for that sort of thing. Your father¡ªthe Don¡­ he is still at Rouen I take it? Why not let him¡­ face defeat and then assume power yourself at L¨¹beck? Or even¡­ stand back in the battle and let him get captured or killed, and, and¡­¡± I take a few more steps towards her. She remains silent for some time and finally turns to face me. ¡°If only¡­ it was so easy, Victoria,¡± she replies with that stoical grin of hers. The raven-haired Scarface turns back to the porthole and heaves an enormous sigh. ¡°Time¡­ if only I had more time!¡± I look down at her fists, which she has clenched. ¡°M-Madame¡­?¡± She turns to face me with an irritated face, and gradually rubs her scar tissue. ¡°My apologies, Vitoria, I sincerely wish I could talk with you and become acquainted with you more,¡± she clenches her teeth and narrows her eyes ¡°but the longer I stay here, the greater the risk of my ruse at Rouen being uncovered¡ªfarewell.¡± Before I can say anything, the Madame rushes towards the door. Before she heads out and disappears from my life forever, however, she stops in the doorway for what seems like forever. She turns slightly to face me, cheeks slightly luminescent. ¡°Erm¡­ with that said¡ªcould you lead me to your shuttle bay?¡± With a sigh, I slap the side of my face and join the Madame.
Our departure to the shuttle hanger is mostly spent in silence. The raven-haired Scarface sticks close behind me, not wanting to bring attention to herself from any onlookers. Thankfully, though, there is very little attention to be had as our route is rather devoid of people. What people we do pass usually pay no maid or avert their eyes with tension. ¡°Uh¡­ I hope the Yilan did not give you too much of a cold-welcoming¡­¡± I remark dryly, but the Scarface remains silent ¡°there were a lot of scary-looking marines stomping around earlier¡­ I couldn¡¯t help but think they cause a crisis if one of them, you know¡­¡± ¡°I paid it no mind. It is only natural that I would not be trustworthy, I have no doubt the same situation would unfold if it was the other way around,¡± the Madame replies ¡°I would say¡­ meeting with you more than made up for it.¡± My cheeks flush red with embarrassment. I¡¯m somewhat glad we are mostly alone with her behind me. When we arrive at the bay, we are greeted by a small contingent of marines and officers that assemble and give the Scarface solemn salutes. Outside of the hub her shuttle, a dark gray vessel mostly smaller than our uniform white ones stands out from the rest. A pure white bridge tube connects it from the outside, and I can make out some astro-engineers outside giving the Madame¡¯s shuttle some space as its engines go through the start-up process. After some last words with the officers on duty, the Madame makes her way to the bridge tube, and I follow closely behind her to the entrance of it. I watch in silence from behind as she stands looking on ahead. ¡°Madame¡­?¡± I call out, and she looks back. ¡°Ensign, if you please¡­ would you walk with me to my shuttle?¡± She asks politely. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ not going to kidnap me or anything, are you?¡± I ask in response, and she cuts loose a small, blushing scoff. She starts walking, and I join her soon after. The walk itself is spent in silence, and once we are at least a few meters away from the shuttle¡¯s open shuttle door we both come to a stop. ¡°Victoria Happ¡­¡± She says breaking the silence, she turns first to face me¡ªthen takes a few gentle steps toward me. Before I know it the Scarface stands awfully close to me yet again. Being this close to her again, I can only wonder how she got such a terrible wound. Even still, regardless of her scar tissue it does little to ruin her unkempt beauty. ¡°Erm, Madame¡­?¡± I ask. And yet, she stands there without a word. Her stern expression shifts into such a careful grin that I can only imagine she is trying to avoid arousing stinging pain from that facial scar of hers. The red-eyed, raven-haired Madame raises her hands. Paralyzed, I watch with bated breath as she reaches for mine and ever gently brushes her hands against mine¡ªand then, holding my hands by my open hands she raises our hands out. Her hands are cold¡­ and yet so soft! There is no way these are the hands stained with the blood of countless victims. ¡°I¡­ wha?¡± I stammer in confusion. ¡°Victoria Happ¡­ Schwarzenberger,¡± the Madame starts after clearing her throat. She shifts her hands around so that our palms and fingers match. ¡°I hope that one day¡­ be it a year¡ªor perhaps many years from now¡ªwe will be able to meet again in better circumstances¡­ I hope that when that day comes, we will meet again as equals,¡± our fingers interlock with gentleness. The Madame takes one, then another step closer to me. ¡°Until that day comes, Victoria¡­ please; live. Live for the sake of those that couldn¡¯t. Live a good life¡­ live for your Buttermilch, and rise through the ranks to be a capable commander; just as he sought to do before you¡­ ¡°Farewell, Victoria.¡± And with that, the Madame lets go and takes a few steps towards her shuttle door. Goodbyes are always the hardest part¡ªand just when the thought crosses that I made a new friend; they depart from my life. Will I ever see them again? Will she survive the ordeal at Rouen? ¡°Madame!¡± She doesn¡¯t stop, let alone turn around. The Scarface crosses through the shuttle doors and stops only to raise her hand to the keypad to close the doors. Outside, I can faintly hear the roar of engines. ¡°Madame Scarface!¡± I shout a little louder. I take a few steps toward the open door that divides us. With a small sigh, she turns around. I take a few steps closer and clasp her hands with mine. She looks a little started but says nothing. ¡°Your name¡ªI never got your name. How can I say farewell to someone whose name I don¡¯t know?!¡± ¡°You¡¯re being ridiculous,¡± she mutters, eyes narrow ¡°my name is Madame¡ª¡± ¡°Don¡¯t give me that bloody bullshit! Your real name!¡± I shout maybe a little bit too eager. She continues to avoid my gaze, but after a brief sigh, we lock eyes again. ¡°My name¡­¡± she sighs and then offers a sly grin. ¡°My name is Li. ¡°¡ªLi Chou.¡± ¡°Li¡­¡± I repeat quietly, a simple yet eloquent name I would say ¡°and it¡¯s not ¡®farewell¡¯, Li¡ªsince that assumes we might never see each other again, right?¡± Li¡¯s eyes widen for a second before she closes her eyes and scoffs ¡°let¡¯s try that again shall we?¡± ¡°I do wonder where I have heard that before, regardless¡­¡± Li closes her eyes again and opens them again with a sly grin ¡°goodbye, Victoria Happ-Schwarzenberger¡ªuntil we meet again.¡± ¡°Goodbye Li Li,¡± I say with a smile, and her face turns a light shade of red ¡°I hope to see you again someday.¡± And with that, I release my grip on Li and jolt back my side of the shuttle doors. I turn back to face Li and present her with a textbook-style stern salute. Likewise, she does a salute of her own¡ªa closed fist against her chest. ¡°Give them hell at Rouen, Li Li!¡± I shout as the shuttle¡¯s doors moan to a shut. The very last thing I see of Li is her face turning a darker shade of red as she turns away. I take a few more steps back and watch in silence as her shuttle departs to her fleet. It doesn¡¯t take long for Li¡¯s shuttle to become only a distant blip into the black abyss. Soon after her fleet prepares to leave as one, presumably for L¨¹beck and then the Rouen corridor. And as the pirate fleet moves further away from the Yilan, I finally slump against the wall and slowly slide to the floor in near-total exhaustion: a million different emotions bombard through me at once. I take off my garrison cap and caress it around in my hands. It¡¯s over. It¡¯s finally over. I turn my gaze to the ceiling, where I can make out the translucent starry sea. Between nearing passing out and the million different emotions flowing thro ugh me at once: the one that stands out to me the most is relief. We finally did it, Buttermilch. Chapter 51: Memories of Toscana | Julius
SHUTTLE COCKPIT
Give them hell at Rouen, Li Li! As I sit in the passenger seat resting my head on the padded headrest, all I can think about are my conversations with Victoria. To hear her shout those words of encouragement gives me a heartfelt excitement in my chest, a sensation that I perceive as alien. Perhaps it is because of my bonding with Victoria that makes me feel¡­ happy. ¡°Li Li¡­¡± I muse quietly while stroking my flushed cheeks. Even just repeating it is rather embarrassing, ¡°what a peculiar nickname¡ªfrom a peculiar person.¡± I wish that for just a minute longer I could hear her voice. She seems so young¡ªyounger than even me, and I can only wonder why an upstart girl like her would be serving time in the military. Was she forced into it? Or maybe she volunteered? There are so many questions I have. So many things I want to know about Victoria¡ªand many more topics I want to talk to her about, myself included. But, it was not meant to be. Perhaps it was never meant to be. Am I a fool to think we could meet ever again? I deflate with a sigh and rest my hand on my scarred cheek, stroking it and stroking my burning chest with my other hand. There will be a day when our paths will cross again. I am sure of it. I imagine Victoria will receive commendation for her actions against me, and there will be a day when the Federation will launch another campaign against the Mafia¡ªand I have no doubt she will be at the helm. But that is a thought for another day. That is just assuming I can endure the Federation onslaught at the Rouen corridor. I can¡¯t help but scoff. To think that a Federation commander acted autonomously. I tilt my head trying to remember what it was that Victoria remarked it was about ¡ªfor fame and glory. Fame and glory¡­ I can only feel sorry for the servicemen who were unfortunate enough to pay the price of their superior¡¯s stupidity: the value of nothing. Though, I suppose one could argue it did distract me from the real threat at hand¡ªthe larger armada anchored at the Rouen corridor. Plus a few of my good men lost here and there, but peering at my massed ships departing ahead of the Castelforte, I find it unlikely that I have suffered too many losses. And to think on the Federation side, Victoria could¡¯ve been one of those casualties had the course of events gone differently. It¡¯s a bleak world we live in that the Federation resorts to employing young people in their navy¡ªthough, and I can¡¯t but scoff¡ªI grew up in no better situation being raised by petty bandits and all. ¡°Madame, the shuttle has hailed the Castelforte and it will be a few moments before we are on the runaway lights,¡± the black-haired pony-tailed pilot says. He inputs a few buttons into his console and flips some switches overhead before leaning back into his chair with a stark sigh. With his right hand still on the joystick, he rests against his cockpit window with his left arm¡ªa metallic prosthetic up to his elbow¡ªkeeping him propped up straight in his seat. ¡°It shouldn¡¯t be long¡­ I can set it to autopilot once we synchronize with the projected lane.¡± ¡°I see¡­ thank you¡­ Julius, was it?¡± Julius cranes his neck and looks at me in surprise. ¡°¡­I¡¯m surprised you remembered my name. I feel a little flattered, really,¡± Julius remarks as he briefly scratches his neck with his right hand ¡°I¡¯m impressed you even know my hand at all. Y¡¯know, just being the little guy doing his deeds here and there.¡± ¡°I hate to admit it, but it can be rather difficult keeping track of all my crews¡± I reply rather apologetically. Julius only chuckles. ¡°If I were in your shoes, I wouldn¡¯t be able to even keep track of my right and left shoes!¡± Julius remarks a bit too energetically for what it¡¯s worth. ¡°Julius¡­ this might sound a bit sudden, but during your dock at the Federation ship¡­ they did not cause you any trouble, I hope?¡± Originally it was not my idea to have a chaperon tag along. I have some experience handling piloting shuttle crafts but there were concerns from the bridge, namely from that oversized brute¡ªcome to think of it I believe his name is Brutus¡ªthat I might cause an accident if I pilot the shuttle myself. Thus, they picked out Julius to accompany me to the Yilan. If memory serves me right Julius is reputable for being a courier between ships, or so Brutus says, particularly during the skirmish with the Federation Ides formation and the later fray at Baltit. Julius flaps his mechanic hand at me ¡°no¡ªno way! When I peeked out of the shuttle after you left,¡± Julius peers at me with his robotic hand cupping his brow ¡°and saw a few intimidating armored lads with heavy guns loiter around their side of the boarding bridge,¡± Julius brandishes an invisible gun at me for a second before repositioning his left hand on the joystick ¡°¡ªI crapped my pants and sealed the door shut!¡± He finishes with a nervous laugh. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ that must have been unnerving to go through.¡± Julius shifts his mechanical hand on the joystick, and gently slaps me on the shoulder, ¡°oh, don¡¯t worry about little ol¡¯ me! I staved off fear with some coffee beans and crackers¡ªby the way, would you like some, Madame?¡± Julius gets up and jolts back to rummage for something. I have to say; the nerve of this man to act so chummily given who he is dealing with. But I don¡¯t pay it any mind. If Julius had done this to Che or even the Don, I have no doubt he would make a speedy disappearance. Julius returns with a moderately sized white tin box sporting festive designs. He places the box in my lap and returns to his seat as the pilot. ¡°They might be a little crunchy¡ª¡± he looks at me and flashes a tired grin ¡°maybe a bit too crumbly I wager.¡± I open the lid to at least 3 layers of white paper with circular and square-shaped crackers, some bright yellow while others are a darker shade of tan. ¡°You said there was coffee¡­?¡± I ask while carefully picking up a crispy-looking cracker and nimble on it; indeed, it is quite crumbly. Julius slaps his head with his prosthetic hand. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°oh my! How could I forget!¡± He looks at me agonizingly ¡°I think I still have a good pot left¡­ I¡¯m sorry, but do you think you can pour one for yourself?¡± He scratches his brow with his thin robotic fingers¡ªwhich I¡¯d say is more of a rub given his smooth ¡®fingers¡¯. ¡°It can¡¯t be helped¡­¡± I reply with a sigh. I hold the cracker with my mouth and set the box down. As I get up from the seat and make my way out of the cockpit an embarrassing growl originates from my stomach, and it occurs to me I haven¡¯t eaten in ages¡ªeven before our initial departure from Velksland. Thankfully, Julius didn¡¯t seem to take mind of the grumble¡ªif he heard it at all. ¡°Ah¡­ before I forget,¡± I stop partway into the cockpit door ¡°would you like if I made you a cup of coffee as well? Would you like some cream powder in it?¡± Julius leans over his chair and looks at me rather puzzled¡ªeven a sense of exhaustion. I must have not noticed it until now, or perhaps it just isn¡¯t as apparent, but he does have bags under his eyes. ¡°Coffee¡­huh¡­¡± Julius remarks laconically. He looks up at me with a soft smile, ¡°¡­y¡¯know, I think I could go for one¡ªmaybe a few spoonfuls of cream will do. Thanks.¡± And with that, I head into the nearby compartment to prepare some coffee.
I return a few minutes later. ¡°Julius, I have our¡ª¡± I pause upon entering the cramped cockpit. Something is off right away: our pathing is misaligned from the Castelforte¡¯s trajectory lane. Julius seems to be slumped in his chair. When I inch closer and quietly call out to him, the young man springs back to life, and the shuttle jerks a little bit as he regains his bearing on the controls. He looks up at me with widened eyes but relaxes into a grin. ¡°Oh! Forgive me,¡± he rummages his mechanical hand through his hair ¡°I kinda dozed off for a bit while thinking about that coffee. Give me a minute here to set this thing on autopilot¡­¡± Julius flicks some more buttons overhead and turns a dial that was adjacent to him. Then he leans back into his chair with a tired exasperation and takes his creamy coffee from me. ¡°Thanks, Ma¡¯am!¡± Julius exclaims cheerfully. To my horror, he chugs it in one continuous gulp then crumbles the paper cup with his machine hand. ¡°I really needed that pick-me-up.¡± When he looks up at me with a wincing grin, he can¡¯t help but flash that sheepish grin. ¡°I think I¡¯m fine now, you don¡¯t need to worry about little ol¡¯ me¡ªas I said, I¡¯m just the little guy doing his job,¡± the grin turns into a mild frown ¡°though I gotta say¡­ it¡¯s a good thing you came back in time because the shuttle would¡¯ve probably crashed into the side of the Castelforte ¡ªwouldn¡¯t want to stain the side of the beaut, huh?¡± I slump into my chair with a defeated sigh. I think the Mafia has one too many loose screws it. If I didn¡¯t know any better I would figure I attract them like moths to the flames. ¡°But with that said¡­¡± Julius stretches and then reclines in his seat. ¡°These last few hours have been kinda rough¡­ I don¡¯t think I even got any real shuteye until you did your business in the Yilan. So taking a power nap and abusing stimulants is just about all I could to keep me awake.¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t¡­ get a break when we were at Brunsb¨¹ttel?¡± I ask apologetically ¡°or before the fight with the Ides Metropol Federation?¡± Julius remains quiet. He faces the other way out the cockpit window. ¡°I did¡­ but limited breaks can only do so much, since, y¡¯know, those jumps take a toll on me,¡± he rolls his head to face me; his baggy eyes become much more apparent ¡°they take a toll on everyone. ¡°But don¡¯t worry! I think I am doing better now¡­ just a little groggy from taking a nap is all. I¡¯ll be good as new later,¡± the red-gold bandanna-wearing pilot jabs his chest with his fake thumb ¡°so don¡¯t go worrying about me¡ªthe little guy! You just do what you have to do, Madame. The lads and I might moan and groan about our situation, but we do what we have to do since we know you can get us out of it.¡± I take a few sips from my bitter coffee while nodding. For some reason, it tastes a lot more bitter than it has reason to. I have to lessen my grip so as not to squeeze the cup too hard. ¡°Julius¡­ do you think I am capable of stopping the Metropol advance at Rouen?¡± I ask somberly. I can¡¯t bring myself to look him in the eyes; instead, my gaze lies at his feet. I didn¡¯t notice it until now, but he seems to have a prosthetic right leg just barely noticeable from his leggings. ¡°Sorry¡­¡± I quickly rectify ¡°that question was probably a little¡­¡± ¡°If you can¡¯t do it, then who can?¡± Julius asks dryly ¡°there is no one capable of the task other than you, right? Or Captain Simon, even¡­¡± Julius cracks a smile and leans over to wrap an arm around me. If I didn¡¯t know any better, this man is asking for a death wish. ¡°If you and the captain teamed up like old times sake, I¡¯m sure the two of you could accomplish anything! Maybe even ransack ol¡¯ Terra!¡± He says with a hearty laugh. ¡°But you know¡­¡± Julius releases his innocuous arm over me and shifts his posture to rest against his cockpit window. A few moments of silence pass by without Julius adding any more. He merely stares out the window as our shuttle carefully slides into the interior of the Castelforte¡¯s shuttle bay, one hand resting on his chin. ¡°¡­Julius?¡± I ask softly, and the pilot turns his head to grin weakly. ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to sound cool there. It sounded kinda cool in my head, anyway¡ªbut maybe I¡¯ll tell you when this all spills over. I would hate to be responsible for weighing you down with more petty things.¡± Julius gets up for a quick stretch, and looks out the frontal cockpit window ¡°¡ªit seems like all the other bosses are here, though. At least I recognize Kaiser¡¯s, old Serge¡¯s, and I¡¯m not too sure about the other two¡­¡± Julius trails off peering at the lineup of shuttles in the bay. I drink down the rest of the now lukewarm strong coffee and dispose of the cup in a trash compartment.¡°¡­I suppose they are waiting on me, no doubt about my plans for Brunsb¨¹ttel and our plans at Velksland, well then, until we meet again, Julius.¡± The young man nods with a grunt as I head out. ¡°Oi, Madame!¡± Julius suddenly calls out to me as I initiate the button to activate the shuttle¡¯s door and subsequent roll-out of the escalator. I look back to see the man leaning against the open cockpit door. ¡°What is it, Julius?¡± I ask. From where he stands, the black-haired, easygoing Julius gives me a thumbs up. ¡°When this is all over¡­ if we survive and make it through this slaughter¡ªI don¡¯t suppose I could treat you to something a little more proper¡ªa glass of champagne or something, maybe?¡± Julius asks confidently, not breaking a sweat. With a dismissive chuckle, I turn away so that he doesn¡¯t see my blemishing face. Isn¡¯t he a little too bold for his sake? If Olga were to overhear this¡­ ¡°What an odd question to ask, Julius¡ª¡± I turn back to face the anticipating Julius, ¡°So long as I have everyone¡¯s support and faith, I will get all my men home safe and sound¡ªthat¡¯s a promise. Just believe in me as you and everyone else has. And Frankish wine?¡ªI hold high expectations for it, Julius.¡± ¡°A promise is a promise,¡± Julius says back with a robotic jab at his puffed-out chest ¡°you can count on little ol¡¯ me to get the fine lass the finest champagne in all of Toscana!¡± And with that, I exchange salutes with Julius and proceed to head down the escalator. Chapter 52: Memories of Toscana | Prelude to Rouen Leaving behind Julius and the Shuttle, I get situated by the crew waiting to receive me and am informed that the others¡ªOlga, Richter, Sergi, and Che¡¯s Darcy have convened on the bridge awaiting my orders. As it stands right now, the fleet is gathering for the expected warp jumps to the L¨¹beck star-zone. After getting caught up, I head for the bridge. Along the way are various crew members that stop to salute me, but I spare little time for chatter or formalities. When I get to the bridge it is rather unusually busy. There are a lot of faces I do not recognize immediately, and I¡¯m left with the impression that they are possibly lieutenants or captains from the other ships in the fleet. Out of them all, I spot the overbearing Brutus, who spots me and rushes over to greet me. ¡°Madame, I hope your visit went well,¡± the oversized ape warmly says. He looks on at the Yilan and her escorts in the distance turning around to join up with its fleet ¡°I hope the Feddies didn¡¯t give you too much trouble.¡± ¡°None at all, Brutus,¡± I reply amid the man looking at me blankly ¡°the welcoming party was certainly lukewarm, but I had the pleasure of acquainting with that junior officer¡ªVictoria, which I think made up for the overall atmosphere there¡­ why are you giving me that look, Brutus?¡± The giant bear tries to chuckle it off, ¡°I am just surprised you remembered my name, is all. I never figured you care enough to even remember my face.¡± ¡°I have to admit, I did forget it for the longest time, but I figured I owe it to you for more or less shielding me from danger¡± I reply rather dryly ¡°where are the others?¡± With one of his thick arms, he points to the other side of the bridge, ¡°they were conversing over there while waiting for your safe arrival. They were deliberating whether to use warp jumps or not on the journey to L¨¹beck.¡± Just the mention of the word warp jump and my experience talking to Simon about it at Brunsb¨¹ttel is enough to make me tired. I thank Brutus and excuse myself to head for the party. Darcy, Sergi, Olga, and the man I assume to be Richter stand around a console making comments about the next course of action. Olga is the first to look up and notice me, but she averts her eyes and crosses her arms. Darcy runs up to me and gives me a salute, which causes the others to take notice of my presence. ¡°Madame! It is a pleasure to finally meet you!¡± Darcy exclaims happily, clasping my hand and shaking it, ¡°in person¡ªI mean. I knew about you from what your brother says about you¡­¡± ¡°What does my brother, Che, say about me, Darcy?¡± I ask warmly, and the auburn-haired subordinate chuckles nervously. ¡°But that aside, I don¡¯t think I properly thanked you for acting in Che¡¯s place. When the time comes I will see to it that you are rewarded for your deeds. In the meantime, I¡¯d wish for you to accompany the fleet to Velksland.¡± Darcy nods and steps out of the way for the other man that accompanies the others. ¡°That aside, Madame,¡± the slender man with albino hair starts ¡°Olga and I were discussing the possibility of the Federation fleet relaunching an attack on while we march to Rouen¡ªare you certain that their commander will keep his word?¡± I look slightly over at Olga. She has taken a few steps away from us and looks out into space. When I look over at Sergi, our eyes meet briefly but it¡¯s all I need to know that Olga was still hurt by my earlier remarks during the warp on top of Victoria¡¯s detachment. I¡¯ll give her a proper apology later, I tell him with my eyes before bringing my attention back to the man with the albino mullet. ¡°You are Richter, correct?¡± The man nods ¡°you have a talent for commanding ships¡ªI think Olga did well to have you lead a part of the fleet. I have no doubts if you failed to hold your own, none of us would be standing here alive. Please, continue to serve Olga to the best of your ability¡­ oh, I shall see to it that you are also rewarded for your efforts if you so wish.¡± ¡°Thank you, Madame, it means a lot to hear that from you,¡± Richter states. I glance over at Olga to see her reaction. She has turned back to face us but doesn¡¯t make eye contact with anyone. ¡°Now, getting back to the topic at hand¡­ yes, I am fully confident that the Yilan commander¡ªand his commodore¡ªwill think twice about launching another invasion. I¡¯ll leave behind a token force as an early warning line just in case. Even if they were to invade, I will do whatever I can to ward them off again¡ªbut I sincerely doubt they will undertake another venture into Toscana. ¡°Their ships are too exhausted, demoralized, and we have managed to inflict serious damage on their fleet that even if I emerged from Rouen victorious, they would lack the capabilities to drive to L¨¹beck. I am sure of that much.¡± ¡°Speaking of Rouen¡­¡± Sergi steps forward as Richter gives him room to speak ¡°we were talking about the best method of marching to Velksland,¡± he points at the console screen the group stood around. On it, there is a depiction of the fleet¡¯s trajectory as well as projected energy usages and estimated fuel consumption¡ªwe certainly used a lot of fuel during the battle¡ªnot to mention munitions. I can only shudder at what would¡¯ve happened if we ran out at the most crucial moments during the battle. ¡°¡­We drummed up some ideas: like jumping to L¨¹beck and then Velksland, or first burn fuel on the way to L¨¹beck, refuel at the Cluster there, and use the surplus fuel to march through the hyper-lane without the use of a jump,¡± he looks up to me with concern ¡°if we jump into Velksland, we could very well find ourselves in a similarly awkward situation if we warped in front of them again¡ªand we might not be lucky this time around,¡± the others all look up to me. ¡°What are your thoughts, Madame?¡± I stroke my scarred cheek. We certainly do have a predicament on our hands: getting back to Rouen in time is our top priority. While we spend our time here theorizing on how to get there in time my blasted father could very well be in grave danger¡ªworst yet, they could have besieged theBrunsb¨¹ttel¡¯s Cluster by now. In either case, we¡¯re in dire straits. ¡°We will warp to the capital Cluster to rearm, refuel and then warp again to Velksland,¡± I remark starkly ¡°we don¡¯t have time to spare¡­ to be honest, I¡¯m not sure we should stop at Brunsb¨¹ttel at all, the time we spend there could be crucial to the time setting up defenses at Velksland.¡± Except for Olga, the trio exchanges glances with one another. ¡°M-Madame, you don¡¯t mean to not give the fleet any rest from here on out¡­?¡± I nod my head, ¡°are you surprised? I warned you while we were at L¨¹beck that it will be hell from then on out. The longer we delay our rendezvous at Velksland, the greater risk of us losing Velksland¡ªand theDon,¡± I cross my arms and scoff ¡°¡ªthat old dog will fight to the last man. He¡¯d rather face death than retreat like a coward.¡± The group is quiet. From behind, I hear Brutus make a commotion and turn around to several people approaching us. ¡°Eren, don¡¯t do this¡ªthis is¡­¡± one of the women protests, but the man she speaks to has none of it. ¡°Madame!¡± Eren shouts ¡°you said you might not consider giving the fleet time to rest?!¡± I give a nod, and the riled up fellow takes a few more steps closer. His posse and Brutus shadow him. Brutus looks far too concerned, and I can only guess this means trouble. ¡°You mean for us to fight an enemy when most¡ªif not all¡ªof us are at our absolute limits? You want us to die of exhaustion before we even confront a¡­ a¡­¡± he¡¯s shaking his head and balling his fists ¡°¡ªyou want us to fight overwhelming odds¡ªwhen we can barely stay conscious?!¡± He takes a few steps closer to me. His chest rises and collapses with each harsh breath. ¡°If we do not make it in time, Eren¡ªthere won¡¯t even be a fight to be had¡­ there won¡¯t even be any allies¡ªmuch less the Don¡ªalive to rescue,¡± I retort trying to remain calm ¡°do you think we live in some kind of fairy tale where we have all the time in the world to sit back and relax¡ªwhile our brethren fight for their very lives¡ªfor the very hope that we may come to save them?!¡± Instinctively, I take a step closer to him ¡°they could be fighting right now ¡ªand dying ¡ª waiting for a fleet that could¡¯ve arrived minutesearlier to save them from certain doom.¡± By now, we were face to face. ¡°Some of us don¡¯t have an iron will like you! Some of us are simple men who haven¡¯t had so much as rations to eat or a catch of sleep! Many of us haven¡¯t slept in a day!¡± A second later and Eren grabs me by the mantle ¡°you intend to save those in need when you don¡¯t care for the wellbeing of your own!¡± Eren nearly shouts into my face. ¡°Some of us can¡¯t even copewith the pressure! And you want to drag us through hell itself to save some goddamn fools who may or may not even be alive now! Against the full might of the Federation itself¡ªIf only you knew¡­ if only you knew whatbullshit you were putting us through!!¡± Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. It was those eyes. It was the murderous intent of the eyes and those grit teeth. For a split second, it reminded me of him. I haven¡¯t seen those eyes in years¡ªdecades. The very eyes that shattered any and all innocence. The eyes that remind me that I regret over and over of happening. The very lecherous eyes that molded me into who I am now. It¡¯s not the eyes that send chills the one known as the Madame Scarface ¡ªit¡¯s the eyes that frighten Li Chou. With a heave of my backhand, I send Eren stumbling a step backward and then crashing to the floor. By now, the commotion has attracted the attention of the bridge. Eren¡¯s posse quickly tries to attend to him. ¡°All of you! If you have a death wish¡­¡± I take a few steps forward and stand over the downed Eren who cowers in my shadow, and whose posse scramble to getaway. I quickly brandish my holster and whip out the pistol. ¡°I care not if you are exhausted! I care not if you wish to drop dead! If you wish to do so, then die where you stand!¡± With the gun pointed at the terrified Eren, I proceed to squeeze down on the trigger and¡ª ¡°Li!¡± Olga. The loud, tense shout of Olga snaps me back to reality. My grip on the trigger lessens, and I lower the gun to my side. Eren scrambles to get up and flee. I can only watch in silence as all eyes remain trained on me¡ªterrified eyes. Submissive eyes. Fear. And it¡¯s that sea of eyes that make me realize that everyone isexhausted. Not just the bridge¡ªbut the ship technicians. The gunners. The engineers. And all the little guys who run around and do other tasks. Men like Brutus, or Julius. I turn around to face the others; Olga. She has undoubtedly the biggest bags under her eyes than everyone else. ¡°Li¡­¡± She walks towards me, and the closer she gets, the more I confirm that she looks paler than usual, her cheeks slightly sunken. But yet she tries to smile. She has endured it for so long¡ªeven my lash out at her earlier. She has been suffering the most, has she not? Not just her. Everyone else too. Everyone was enduring it for me¡ªfor theDon, for the Mafia, and all their loved ones. We endure it to see the fighting end so that we may relax and bask in the peace. Olga stands before me and wraps her hands around the gun. ¡°¡­I¡­I¡¯m sorry for yelling, Madame,¡± Olga stammers. Her hands are actually trembling¡ªis it from exhaustion, or is she terrified of what I was doing? To become like my father and rule through terror? She rubs my hands as if to gesture for me to let go of the pistol. It¡¯s as though my hand obeys her command, and Olga carefully slips it from my grasp. She clears her throat. ¡°We¡­ you should let the men rest at Brunsb¨¹ttel,¡± Olga wraps her arms around me in a hug ¡°we can¡¯t go on like this, Li¡­¡± Olga clears her throat ¡°¡ªand neither can you¡­ you¡¯ve been pushing yourself past your limits, too, haven¡¯t you? Ever since we first warped into L¨¹beck¡­ you¡¯ve been physically straining yourself this entire time.¡± You paler than a ghost, Li. You must be completely exhausted. It¡¯s the same thing as Simon said then. ¡°Everyone needs a rest¡­ but you need the rest more than we do,Madame.¡± Olga strokes my head ¡°if you collapse, what will we do? Who will guide us to victory?¡± ¡°I¡­ can rest after this is over,¡± I protest, burying my head into Olga¡¯s chest ¡°there is no one else capable of doing this¡­ I don¡¯t even think I can accomplish this.¡± But even so, I have to rely on Olga for physical support¡ªI abruptly feel devoid of energy, as though all my strength has been weighed down by the very essence of gravity itself. Have I been exerting myself through sheer willpower up until this very moment? ¡°That is all the more reason for us¡ªand you¡ªto rest, Li¡­¡± Olga replies softly ¡°now¡­ do what you need to do, Madame.¡± I break away from Olga and turn to face the curious bridge crew. I glance back at Olga and clear my throat. ¡°¡­I will permit the fleet a few hours of rest while we refuel and rearm. I suppose¡­¡± I clear my throat, dubious of the uncertain future that the Rouen Corridor may present ¡°it would not hurt to recuperate our fatigue for the upcoming battle¡ªthe future of the Mafia¡ª OUR future¡ªhinges on this battle! So rest! Rest so that you may face the Federation with all your energy! Brutus!¡± With a flutter of my cape, I point towards the oversized gorilla ¡°instruct the other ships of my order and prepare for the warp jumps to L¨¹beck!¡± The crew immediately gets to work, and the trio of captains excuse themselves and head for their ships¡ªleaving me and Olga alone. When I turn to face her, she faces the windows at the ships and shuttles passing by. I suppose there¡¯s only one thing left to do before she heads to her ship. I take a few quiet steps towards her until we stand side-by-side, looking on as some ships begin their warp sequences and disappear out of sight. Crew members work tirelessly around us, paying no attention to our presence. ¡°Olga,¡± I begin after clearing my throat ¡°I just¡­ I never got the chance to really¡­ um¡­¡± I look up at Olga. She doesn¡¯t divert her eyes and continues to look out to the endless seas. ¡°I wanted¡­ to find a good time to remind you of your insubordination¡­¡± I glance over at Olga, who purses her lips at the thought ¡°¡­after a little bit of deliberating¡­ I wanted to apologize,¡± I look up in time to see Olga sigh softly. Her beady eyes narrowing but never once breaking her gaze out the window. I sidestep a little closer to her and reach out to touch her hand. ¡°I wasn¡¯t being considerate of your feelings¡­ you always say the most ridiculous things about how you would lay down your life for me¡ªand you know how much I¡¯ve always detested that. I care too much for your wellbeing, Olga¡­ so when you go out and expose yourself to great risk¡­¡± She finally moves her fingers and softly holds my offered hand ¡°I don¡¯t know what I would do if something happened to you¡ª I don¡¯t want to lose you, Olga.¡± Olga turns to face me and embraces me in another hug. We savor the moment in silence. When Olga releases me from her embrace, she shows her happiness with a smile and those lively brown eyes of hers. ¡°Do not fret over it too much, Madame¡ª I could never get upset at you for any reason,¡± she wipes her wet eyes with her sleeve and then ruffles my hair ¡°I hold eternal gratitude for you, and I¡¯m forever grateful that you are always so caring¡ªso considerate¡ªtowards me. Thank you, Li.¡± With a deep breath, Olga takes a few steps back from me and smiles again. ¡°I think I¡¯m all good now¡ªI¡¯ll take my leave and head back to theTaiga¡­ Madame, let¡¯s get through this in one piece.¡± ¡°Until next time, Olga¡ªtake care,¡± I reply just as she turns to leave. But a surge of nervousness inexplicably washes over me. Seeing her off like this doesn¡¯t sit right with me. ¡°O-Olga! Wait¡­¡± The tall blonde turned around out of curiosity, ¡°what is it, Madame?¡± What is it I want to say, I wonder? What is this uneasiness that swells in my chest? Am I reluctant to see her off in fear of never seeing her again? I may not know whose face I will see after this battle ends; and that doesn¡¯t exclude Olga. Who knows what rashness she may pull during the battle despite everything that has been said here. A lump forms in my throat, one I have difficultly trying to swallow because it is so dry. ¡°¡­I think today had to be the most you had ever called me by my name¡ªmy actual name. It just got me a little sentimental thinking about it¡­ Olga,¡± the woman stiffens up a little with a weak smile ¡°¡­please, whatever it takes¡­ live and be my side.¡± Olga opens her mouth to say something but closes it without a word. She closes her watery eyes and nods. And then she turns once again to leave.
After Olga¡¯s departure, I return to my room for a moment of solitude¡ªaway from the ruckus that the bridge offers. I look out the porthole at the Federation ships¡ªby this point, nothing more than a blip to the naked eye¡ªand reflect on the advice Victoria had suggested to me back then. There¡¯s still a chance; a chance to avoid bloodshed. Why don¡¯t you consider a coup at L¨¹beck, or better yet, stall the battle and let the Don die? Victoria¡¯s words echo in my head and I give my scar tissue a good rub. A migraine is beginning to form and it makes it hard to think straight. Perhaps¡­ perhaps it¡¯s not so much as a far-fetched idea¡ªeither of them, really. In fact, it would be more beneficial to negotiate with the Federation directly on the battlefield¡ªconfronting Kamon at Brunsb¨¹ttel would yield long-term results, but in the short-term would result in a mountain of corpses¡ªand there¡¯s still no guarantee the Federation would accept surrender once they¡¯re at our doorstep¡­ I rest my head against the window and release a long sigh. I raise my head again and peer at the several dark blips that make up the Yilan and her escorts. I can only wonder what choice Victoria would make in my place¡ªwould she fight the Federation head-on, or would she seek a less violent alternative in the form of a coup? Is there truly a right or wrong method for achieving a peaceful resolution? I step away from the window and deflate with a sigh. Thinking about the impending battle will get me nowhere. No matter the option¡ªI have no doubt I would face conflict either way¡ªthe only difference is who my opponent is: Kamon, or the Federation armada. Both are equally intimidating, and both will one day come back for another round if I happen to score a victory. Both are bloodshed, and both will likely result in my captivity. I turn around and head back for the bridge. Whichever the case may be, I will confront the future. Chapter 53: Memories of Toscana | Jung Lee (17,000 views milestone!)
OCTOBER 217
ONE OF THE SIDE BRUNSB¨¹TTEL¡¯S NAVAL YARDS
The harbor is busy, almost jam-packed even. There are so many ships crammed into every possible place, Jung thought, that some of the smaller shuttles were having difficulty navigating in the open spaces without causing collusion. It is definitely a hazard if one of them so much as exploded on impact. It was half a year ago when Dong Zhui crossed the Rouen corridor into Toscana. Naturally, there was a state of emergency declared by the Cluster governor at Velksland, and naturally, a feeble defense force was scrambled to intercept it¡­ and then nothing happened. The Toscana governor, whom Jung remembered as Kamon, silently ordered the lacking defense fleet to stand down. Even looking back on it now, Jung thought it was a good political move¡ªhad she chosen so, the Zhui fleet would be no more. Hardly a year earlier there was the disastrous battle of Abassi¡ªa battle that in Jung¡¯s mind the fleet never recovered from. The Merican populace was wising up. The Ruthenian task-forces were hot on their tail eager to avenge their fallen brethren. The move to the Toscana region was a risky gambit. But it was a necessary one¡ªJung voiced his concern to Simon that it would not work. If they get stranded in the Rouen corridor by Toscana ships it would be all over if the Merican-Ruthenians pursued them any further. And to Jung¡¯s relief; the gambit worked. But what was even more bizarre was when Kamon handed the keys over to Zhui. Then a few months later, he declares himself the Don of the Year 217 Mafia. News of this seemed to have spread like fire since there was a sudden surge of bandits and similar thugs who pledged their support for the nascent regime. From what Jung observed, many of them were disfranchised marauders escaping the probing Federation and colonial reclamations of their former havens. And, of course, that scared people. No, Jung shakes his head, it did more than scare people. It terrified the civilians of Side Brunsb¨¹ttel. There is such an influx of people leaving that it can only make Jung wonder if it will inevitably result in a brain drain of Toscana. Even as he rode to the harbor, the sight of boarded-up businesses and empty storefronts was all too familiar. It reminds Jung of the economical ruin that the Hunan region faced more than thirty years ago. And although he has not set foot in the Hunan region for just as long it is likely that the colonies there are faring better than ever. Economic depressions do not last forever, and in some cases, some miracles occur that revitalize prosperity to whole new levels. Brunsb¨¹ttel ¡ªand perhaps even Toscana¡ªmight be undergoing the same thing under different circumstances but there is always a possibility these people will return. Jung can only wonder if most are fleeing to the Frankish Realms or fleeing across the Rouen corridor to the Merican regions. It could also be that most are simply relocating to the other Toscana systems where influence is not as solidified yet. Jung had heard rumors of a rebellion brewing at Ides a month ago but nothing ever came out of it. In the case of the latter, it could mean most will return someday when the paranoia and frenzy die down. The Don, as he is called now, may be a cruel bastard but he has been particularly benevolent¡ªperhaps that woman, Kamon, has reined him in. Jung can only ponder what she sees in that man, or why she would so easily give up governorship to him. Though Simon has offhandedly remarked she still has her influence in most day-to-day duties. A tug at his olive-green sleeve, ¡°is someone on your mind, Jung?¡± It was the voice of Jung¡¯s newlywed wife, Frau Lee¡ªmaiden name Moskvina. ¡®You look concerned about the business going on.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know if concerned is the right word¡­¡± Jung strokes his smooth chin ¡°I was just thinking what a distressing sight it is. It reminds me of my home Side, where people left in droves to seek better opportunities elsewhere¡ªsome resorted to serving in the nearby pirate haven at the time¡ªI was one of them. It¡¯s fascinating that most are actually leaving because of us¡ªthem, despite the fortunes it may bring¡­¡± ¡°Brunsb¨¹ttel¡­ rather, Toscana¡ªit has always been a pitiful place. It¡¯s a bit embarrassing to say this as a native Toscani¡­¡± Frau chuckles a bit nervously ¡°people have been saying for years that we are an unremarkable backwater region. It wasn¡¯t until Kamon took office about six years ago that things finally started to turn around¡­ and it did,¡± Frau says as she walks toward their shuttle which is a dinky little thing reserved for the two of them. On top of that, some of his confidants volunteered to join him in his self-exile to L¨¹beck¡¯s surface. Luckily, neither Jung nor Frau had much furniture or belongings; they¡¯ll essentially be starting over on a farmstead Jung bought a few weeks ago ahead of time. It was mostly furnished, from what he knew, and moving a lot of furniture would be a pain for his age regardless. ¡°Until¡­?¡± Jung asks, wondering if Frau was going to finish. Frau looks back at him puzzled, but only answers with a smile. ¡°I think most will return one day¡ªpeople are a little concerned about change is all. Once the¡­ what was he called?¡± She cocks her head with a scrunched brow ¡°The Donny? The Don? Er¡­ well, anyway, most people are probably not open to the idea of living under a pirate regime, but they¡¯ll come back home in due time¡­ it¡¯ll just take time, and besides¡­¡± Frau points behind her with a thumb ¡°it would be like you to say something like ¡®it isn¡¯t any of our concern.¡¯¡± It isn¡¯t any of our concern. Jung nods silently in agreement, trying and failing to hide a grin. At the end of the day, rather or not if Brunsb¨¹ttel or Toscana faces a brain drain or people living in droves¡ªit doesn¡¯t matter to him. He¡¯s going to live out the rest of his life in peace with his wife. He wanted to live a life he was denied. The politics of the Year 217 Mafia and whatever may happen with the Federation in the future doesn¡¯t concern Jung; he just wants a quiet, peaceful life. And just as Jung takes a few steps toward his new life, a cool masculine voice from behind stops him in his tracks. The curious o- mouth painted on Frau¡¯s face is the only confirmation he needs of who it is; Simon Oliver. ¡°Oi, Jun, you¡¯re still here?¡± Simon calls out to him sounding awfully too genuine for what it¡¯s worth. Jung gestures for his wife to continue without him and turns to face the towering poncho-wearing man. ¡°What, not even a hello from an old friend?¡± ¡°If you come to persuade me, the answer is no,¡± Jung says wearily. Simon only shoots him a frown. ¡°What is it you want?¡± Jung asks as he looks back at Frau. She has moved out of earshot and waits patiently while observing Jung¡¯s underlings haul belongings into the shuttle. ¡°I didn¡¯t come here for any of that business, Jun,¡± Simon coldly remarks as he stands next to Jung ¡°I won¡¯t even do any underhanded phrasing to make you change your mind.¡± ¡°You sure sound like it,¡± Jung replies dryly. Jung watches as his old friend slips out a carton of cigarettes and takes out a thin roll of tobacco. ¡°You haven¡¯t quit smoking? I thought when¡­¡± Simon clearing his throat interrupts Jung from finishing the sentence. ¡°It¡¯s a special occasion,¡± Simon finishes for him ¡°am I not allowed to partake in an old habit as I see a friend off?¡± Simon finishes glancing over at Jung. ¡°Well, considering you only ever smoked after dire situations,¡± Jung states matter of factly ¡°that just makes me a little concerned for your health.¡± Simon scoffs as he takes one continuous puff from the initial cigarette and flicks it away. He slips out a second one and casually lights it up, ¡°honestly, I¡¯m worried for your health sometimes.¡± ¡°It¡¯s just been a cigarette and a half,¡± Simon retorts after taking a brief huff from his smoke. The two of them spend the next moments in silence amid all the turmoil unfolding around them. The two of them have to take a few steps back to let a car overflowing with passengers pass by. Eventually, traffic forms and Jung loses sight of Frau for the time being. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. ¡°Jun¡­¡± Simon says blowing a hazy puff ¡°are you okay with this? With leaving everything behind¡ªstraying from the path that you have walked on for most of your life?¡± When it is evident his cigarette is burning out, he flicks it off to the side and procures the third one. ¡°When all you know is how to manipulate one man to kill another in the name of seeking fortune, can you really readjust to civilian life and make an honest living?¡± ¡°I thought you said you wouldn¡¯t try to get all philosophical on me, Simon,¡± Jung answers with a brief deflate ¡°that kind of logic won¡¯t work on this old wolf¡­¡± Jung cracks a slight grin ¡°I¡¯m not a killing machine anymore, Simon. My days of fanaticism and blind greed are long over,¡± Jung catches a glimpse of Frau through some of the cars, who looks back in concern over the clogged up traffic jam. There is quite a ruckus as people engage in yelling contests over one another. ¡°It would be nice if peace would last forever¡­ but this is likely not the end¡ªI think there will be a day when I will be needed¡­ but I believe it will not be necessary.¡± ¡°How do you mean?¡± Simon asks as he tries to light his fourth cigarette but as he lights it Jung reaches out for it and swipes it. Jung then proceeds to examine it for himself. ¡°I believe you and the young one¡ªLi¡ªare more than capable of protecting the Mafia. My days of being hazardous and making bold initiative are over, Simon. The Rouen corridor might be a favorable defensive position, but in the hands of a capable commander, it can be a killing field,¡± Jung flicks the cigarette into the air and turns to face the appalled Simon eying the wasted cigarette. ¡°I am no longer that Wulf der Ruthenia as they have called me¡­ Abassi should¡¯ve made that clear,¡± Jung finishes with a grimace. ¡°You always did lament that it was your greatest failure,¡± Simon remarks with distraught as he produces his fifth cigarette for a light ¡°But it¡¯s because of you that we managed to slip away to fight another day, you focus too much on the negative, Jun, If it weren¡¯t for you¡­¡± ¡°No,¡± Jung objects ¡°I willingly let many men die in vain¡ªlosses that we couldn¡¯t afford to lose, and for no gain¡­ Li was the only one who salvaged the victory¡ª¡± Jung grits his teeth and clenches his fists ¡°If it were not for her, I¡­¡± Jung trails off as he looks up to Frau, who is still distracted by the traffic that has somewhat cleared now. ¡°Do you resent Li, for stealing the fame from you?¡± Simon asks, and Jung shakes his head. ¡°¡­It¡¯s thanks to Li that I found purpose in my life again¡ªthat I found someone who appreciates me for what I am¡ªdespite my bloodied history of severing other people¡¯s lives. I¡¯ve lived my life thinking it would be impossible to find love again¡­ Simon¡­¡± ¡°Jun?¡± Simon asks as he prepares to light his sixth or seventh cigarette. His little lighter must be out of substance as he has difficulty trying to light the roll of tobacco. ¡°If¡­¡± Jung clears his throat, perhaps hesitant to speak ¡°¡­if Fa was still alive, do you think¡­ if by chance things turned out the way they did, she would still reciprocate our feelings? After everything is said and done¡ªafter all the killings and unspeakable crimes we¡¯ve committed? Would she still love us for the monsters we turned out to be?¡± Simon ceases trying to flick the lighter and remains silent. After a while, he slides the lighter into a pocket and rests the unlit cigarette in his mouth. Simon clears his throats a couple of times but doesn¡¯t say a word. The roll of tobacco bobbles up and down slightly between his dry lips. ¡°That¡¯s playing a bit dirty, Jun,¡± Simon replies softly ¡°that¡¯s hitting below the belt.¡± Simon takes the cigarette out of his mouth and spins it slowly in his fingers. ¡°Back then¡­ I fooled myself into believing Fa¡­¡± Simon stops to clear his throat ¡°she¡­ knew what she was getting into. She knew what associating with us meant,¡± Simon continues in a low voice ¡±she stuck through with it for you¡­¡± a click of the tongue ¡°or perhaps, both of us. ¡°I was young and stupid and wanted to see her. Should I have turned her away?¡± Simon huffs through his nose ¡°should I have ensured her safety before we overthrew the captain? Over and over¡­ I languished over my errors¡ªI indulged in despair for many years¡­¡± ¡°You smoked a lot after her death, I think you have yet to break that record,¡± Jung interjects with a muse ¡°in a way, I¡¯m sort of envious of you.¡± ¡°Envious?¡± Simon retorts with a scoff ¡°you were envious of my suffering that I¡¯ve endured for god knows how long?!¡± ¡°I¡¯m envious that you stumbled upon Li,¡± Jung adds, eyes drawn to the number of discarded cigarettes, ¡°Li filled a hole in your bleeding heart, did she not?¡± Simon does not answer right away but does stop twirling the unlit cigarette. ¡°She was the light at the end of your tunnel; a child that gave you a new purpose in life, am I wrong?¡± Simon brings the cigarette to his mouth again and pokes it against his lips. Like Jung, his eyes are focused on the mess of tobacco lying before them. ¡°Meeting Li¡­ filled me with newfound guilt¡­ and painful memories of Fa,¡± Simon mutters, his eyes shifting from the scattered cigarettes to the mostly-cleared traffic jam. Frau is looking back at the duo but does not move from her place. ¡°If I arrived a second late, no¡­¡± Simon winces ¡°if I didn¡¯t order the ship to be boarded¡ªif I had just reined in Karwoski a little bit more¡­¡± Jung notices the grip on the cigarette is tightening and cracks of tobacco were slipping through the crushed paper ¡°¡­Li would not have suffered. And she would not have grown up in this nightmarish, hellish underworld. ¡°I robbed Li of her life. It haunted me for a long time. And I thought she would resent me for it¡­¡± Simon deflates with a heavy sigh, and pulls out a new lighter from his pocket. ¡°I guess asking you if you were okay with leaving everything behind reminds me of toying with the idea of taking Li and deserting the fleet back then.¡± ¡°And you didn¡¯t?¡± Jung asks. Simon finishes lighting the half-crumpled cigarette and inhales a deep huff of smoke. Most of the ruckus has subsided. Order is somewhat restored as some governmental harbor personnel get things moving. ¡°No,¡± Simon answers, ¡°I feared Zhui would hunt me down in some way or form. We swore a blood-oath in our youth¡ªand if something happened to me, Li would be devastated¡ªshe might get in harm¡¯s day if she ever sought vengeance on Zhui. Even now, I don¡¯t know what I would do if something happened to her¡­¡± ¡°That reminds me¡ªafter Zhui split Li¡¯s face open you were an emotional wreck¡­¡± when Jung takes a glance at Simon he notices his eyes narrow and his mouth forms a thin line ¡°you mourned for days by her bedside hoping she would recover¡­ I think that was the first time I¡¯ve seen you so depressed since Fa¡­¡± Jung pauses as his old friend crosses his arms and takes more of the usual whiffs of hazy rings from the abused cigarette. Expecting Jung to say more, Simon turns his head to face Jung with a stoic expression. ¡°Jun?¡± ¡°Do you see Fa in Li¡ªor rather¡­,¡± Jung averts his eyes from Simon ¡°do you see Li as cope¡­ as a substitute for a love of Fa?¡± Simon does not reply, and when Jung looks back at the man he has turned his back to him, head upward. As he releases a cloud of nicotine Simon drops the cigarette to the floor and squashes it. ¡°It looks like your shuttle is ready, Jun. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s polite to keep your wife waiting by her lonesome anymore,¡± Simon says as he turns back to face Jung, and it¡¯s clear Simon is trying to suppress his emotions. Jung sighs, and walks toward his former comrade. He extends out a hand for a handshake. Simon looks down on it without saying a word before returning Jung¡¯s gaze. ¡°Are you sure about this, Jun? Going to L¨¹beck¡­ I mean. If you¡¯re worried about a Federation incursion into Toscana that much¡­ you can always live a quiet life in the Frankish Sides. It¡¯s no secret that many fugitives live among the civs¡­¡± Simon cracks a wry smile ¡°I can even nag Kamon to procure some fake identity papers for you¡­ you can take advantage of the refugees sailing out of here and avoid Federation suspicion that way.¡± But Jung shakes his head. ¡°It¡¯s what Frau wants¡­¡± he cranes his head over to Frau ¡°she told me she always dreamed of living on the surface¡ªof returning to her family roots as a farmer. And who am I to object? It¡¯s the most I can do for her.¡± Simon sighs, ¡°suit yourself, then¡± and reciprocates Jung¡¯s offering hand. The two grip their hands tightly for some time. Jung is the first to release his grip¡ªand Simon follows suit. ¡°I can¡¯t say I ever took you for ever taking up the farmer¡¯s life¡­ but¡± Simon cracks a slight grin ¡°try not to get mauled to death by those L¨¹beckian mules, Jun. I hear they¡¯re stubborn and pack a mean wallop.¡± ¡°Likewise, I advise you to lay off the tobacco. I don¡¯t want the next time I meet you to be over your gravestone. I¡¯ve never been fond of the tradition of pouring alcohol or dropping a cigarette over your grave,¡± Jung says half-jokingly. Simon only rolls his eyes. But as Jung turns to leave, he stops and retraces his steps. ¡°What is it now, Jun?¡± Simon asks as his smile fades. ¡°I never tried smoking before¡ªyou should let me smoke one as a send-off,¡± Jung replies. Simon takes out his carton and holds it upside down with a shake. He shakes his head and grins again. It was Jung¡¯s turn to roll eyes. ¡°The next time we meet again I¡¯ll owe you one or thrice. Until next time, Jun.¡± ¡°I hope that the next time we meet¡ªif at all¡ªyou will have wisely considered quitting smoking. I imagine the young miss does not appreciate it either,¡± Jung shrugs his shoulders and sighs. Jung turns away from Simon and heads for Frau again. His path to a quiet and peaceful life. His ticket to happiness, and a life he has dreamed of for many years. From that moment onward, Jung is going to live out the rest of his life to the fullest regardless of the state of Toscani affairs. So long as he remains by Frau¡¯s side, he cares not for the Federation, or the Don or the Mafia. That trail of destructive youth is behind him: he has reached the finish line and won his reward. The only thing Jung needs is Frau, and nothing more. Chapter 54: Memories of Toscana | Slumbering Wulf, Golden Summer
JULY 220
A FARMSTEAD NOT FAR FROM THE MAIN L¨¹BECKIAN SETTLEMENT OF RONDA
The ever-restless Jung Lee deflates with an exhaustive sigh. The last few days have been taking their fair share of physical toll on the middle-aged man. His wife, Frau, has been working him up as a slave¡ªall things considered, he is one. Their fields are considerably larger than most of the farming districts near Ronda, and as such Jung has had difficulty here and there through the harvesting seasons. What makes it difficult this time around is he is one hand short¡ªthat being Frau. Frau has long been a hardy worker and neither Jung nor would any of his former underlings deny she has the endurance of several men. But now that Frau has entered the late stages of her pregnancy, old man Jung¡ªwho is by contrast never been one for manual labor¡ªhas to learn to pick up the slack. And pick up the slack he has. Jung¡¯s head hangs low. He sits resting on the waist-high white stone wall which he had painstakingly cobbled together because of invasive beasts. As it turns out importing animals from other planets and plopping them in a literally alien world contributes to more problems than what it fixes. Jung has done what he can do to exterminate some of the flocks, but hunting was never his forte, either. And yet, despite all the trouble he goes through rather it be farming or shoo bizarre flightless birds with unflinching personalities, Jung prefers it to the cut-throat underworld that he was molded into. The one profession that he is damn well intent on not returning to. Although Jung may groan and agonize about the back-breaking suffering he endures, he endures it for Frau. Jung endures it because he lives a legitimate life at long last and finds the prospects of this life oddly satisfying. ¡°Something the matter, captain?¡± The all-too-familiar dazzling voice of Jean, a core lieutenant that has served him well¡ªor, well, in this case, continues to serve him in a more informal role. She did not join Jung until half a year after he settled down in L¨¹beck with Frau and the rest¡ªa terrible illness left her bedridden not long after they made landfall in Brunsb¨¹ttel. When she found out Jung was more or less abandoning him Jean expressed she felt explicitly betrayed when her health recovered. Jung lifts his head, and while he does this unwinds a painful groan. Jean is on the other side of the wall and gives him a much-needed neck massage using her thumbs. ¡°No, no¡­ nothing of the sort,¡± Jung replies while giving his neck a few pops ¡°I¡¯m just trying to rest my bones¡­ if I had bowed out of the mafia even six years earlier, I would not be as brittle as I am now.¡± A piercing pain digs into his back neck as Jung cuts loose another painful groan. ¡°Yes, yes¡­ and maybe then you wouldn¡¯t think twice about abandoning your faithful servants¡­¡± Jean says a little too happily, but the tone of her nicety makes Jung¡¯s neck-hair stand up. ¡°Of course¡­ not, Jean¡ªI think you¡¯re being too rough¡ª¡± Jung says with a forceful protest. Jean must have realized what she is doing and lets go of his neck. ¡°I see you two are getting along as usual,¡± Frau comments as she stiffly wobbles towards the duo. Behind her, several men are trying to haul large wooden baskets with dark-green cloth coverings onto rustic wagon trucks. ¡°This summer¡¯s harvest is looking wonderful,¡± Frau beams with a shining smile ¡°so much already!¡± Frau claps her hands together in excitement ¡°we only got half of the yield cultivated¡ªand there¡¯s still so much more to gather!¡± ¡°Half the work is done, and yet a mountain of work left to do,¡± Jung complains in response. Both women shoot him looks. ¡°And who was it that suggested we try out something new?¡± Frau asks and the two cross their arms ¡°you can¡¯t expect to make an easy living when you have to work twice as hard and put in twice the effort!¡ªAnd stop complaining so much!¡± Maybe Jung is wrong after all. Maybe he was more comfortable in the line of piracy. ¡°At least give me some credit¡­¡± Jung mumbles with slumped shoulders and the two girls can¡¯t help but chuckle at his misfortune. ¡°But with that said¡­¡± Frau smiles and places a hand on Jung¡¯s shoulder ¡°credit is where it¡¯s due¡ªyou did a lovely job, darling. I¡¯m rather happy we managed to achieve our biggest harvest yet¡ª¡± she looks out upon the vast fertile meadow ¡°if we¡¯re as lucky with profits, you might be able to hire additional hands and grow even more crops,¡± Frau frowns, and taps her lips in ponder ¡°¡ªwe might be lucky with domesticating those emus with some additional hands¡­¡± Jung snorts, ¡°I¡¯d rather just round them up and kill them,¡± both women give the middle-aged man looks of disapproval. Jung raises his hands and surrenders the idea. ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do about it when the time comes. I hear their commodities are in high demand at Ronda and even the Clusters, though, so that sort of business wouldn¡¯t hurt.¡± Frau turns her attention to Jean. ¡°Miss Jean, when do you think you will be able to make the first delivery to Ronda?¡± Frau asks. ¡°If we manage to fill our wagon trucks in time before supper I might be able to start the first run by tomorrow morning,¡± Jean replies ¡°if you don¡¯t mind, I could take a few guys with me so we don¡¯t have to make any additional needless trips,¡± Frau nods her head in agreement. ¡°Well then¡­ I¡¯ll excuse myself since there¡¯s not much I can do here,¡± Frau rubs her swollen belly with a smile ¡°Darling, if you don¡¯t so much as mind, I¡¯d appreciate it if you could drop off a few baskets of the beans and onions to the kitchen. I¡¯d do it myself, but¡­¡± Jung reassures Frau that he will, and sees her off as she waddles down the dirt path towards their home. ¡°Jean, do you want me to help you drive a truck down to Ronda with you tomorrow?¡± Jung asks. Frau only shakes her head. ¡°It would be nice if I could have you to myself for a few hours,¡± Jean replies with a sly grin ¡°but I think it might be better to have you stay behind and get the rest of the crops plucked out¡ªoh, but before I forget, captain¡­¡± Jung winces at the word ¡°¡ªonce you¡¯re done delivering your errand for Frau you can help me load up all our baskets onto the trucks. Just so we can get it out of the way before supper and not waste time doing it tomorrow.¡± ¡°My back is killing me as-is,¡± Jung grumbles as he rubs his lower back ¡°but I¡¯ll see what I can do¡ªyou owe me a beer for the torture I¡¯m enduring.¡± ¡°My, beer, captain? I didn¡¯t have the slightest clue you drink¡­¡± Jean muses ¡°I don¡¯t think Frau would approve of it.¡± Jung only replies with a snort, ¡°she sure as hell won¡¯t¡­ probably. I think she¡¯ll let it slide this time¡ªthis pain isn¡¯t going to sedate itself¡ªalso, stop calling me captain, will you? It only takes a short time to make a habit, and months to break it¡­¡± If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Jean tries to stifle laughter as she helps herself over the half-wall and leaves with Jung for the fields. ¡°Speak for yourself, capt¡ª¡± Jung shoots her a narrowed side glare ¡°¡ªJun. You¡¯re too old to be killing your liver now¡ªthink of your kid, will ya?¡­¡± Jean scolds but expresses a smile afterward ¡°¡ªbut, I wouldn¡¯t mind indulging in a little drink with you later tonight.¡± Jung only shrugs his shoulders. ¡°Suit yourself¡ª that might irritate Frau a bit, but I wager everyone but her will be drinking a fair bit tonight, anyway.¡± The two split up part way through into the field; Jung heads to collect several food baskets for dinner while Jean goes around seeking volunteers to help with the trucks.
The onset of dusk brings about the day¡¯s end. Most of the handymen¡ªwhich Jung believes totals around twenty excluding him and Jean¡ªshuffle their way into the Lee household. Jung did not particularly find it too crowded but he did suggest moving the party over to the nearby residential house which Frau scowls at. ¡°Carting all this food over there would be a hassle! I can¡¯t trust you or the goons to carry them without dropping everything! Do you remember what happened the last time we did that?!¡± For Jung, painful memories of shattered silverware along the dirt roads and a furious Frau beating men up with her broomstick resurface; Jung grimaces and relinquishes the idea. Instead, at his wife¡¯s suggestion, Jung supervises some movers rearranging the dining and living room for the accommodation of the group. After an hour or three, the food is brought out and most take their seats at the tables. Jung waits for everyone to settle down before he taps his glass with a spoon. ¡°Everyone!¡± he exclaims ¡°I want to take this as an opportunity to congratulate everyone for a job well done¡­ for a speculator year!¡± Jung raises his glass ¡°And a toast to many more!¡± A roar of acknowledgments drowns out Jung from saying anymore and the feasting begins.
The night becomes as rowdy as Jung would expect. But eventually, it does wind down. Many finish their meals and socialize over alcohol, or excuse themselves to retire for the night. Most leave the tables for outside but a few stay behind to assist with collecting dishes, like Jung. But an unprovoked nudge from someone pulls him out from his cloud of thoughts and he looks at a discerned Frau, who gestures to a quiet Jean downing her last glass of alcohol before silently leaving the dining room. ¡°You should accompany her, darling,¡± Frau states ¡°I kept noticing she was rather quiet during the whole time. I think she had a little bit too much to drink¡­ you think she¡¯ll be okay driving tomorrow?¡± Jung can only frown in response, ¡°she was never big on drinking, was she? I don¡¯t think she could handle a hangover¡­¡± another jab between his rib cage ¡°go on, go check in on her. I¡¯ll be fine washing the dishes tonight¡­ I like doing them, after all.¡± As Frau waddles her way into the kitchen she turns back to Jung. ¡°¡ªIt¡¯s bound to be cold out right about now, so you could offer her a coat.¡± Frau waggles a dark metal spoon at Jung ¡°¡ªbut more importantly so you could be a gentleman for once and comfort her at least a little!¡± Jung complies without so much as a protest and searches for a nearby closet before heading outside after Jean. To Jung¡¯s surprise, she has not gone far. Jean is just outside on the front porch leaning on the wooden railing. L¨¹beck¡¯s clear moon basks the outdoors with a luminescent glow, and Jung finds the moment quite beautiful. Jean turns her head in surprise not knowing Jung was behind her, coat in hand. She sighs and turns to gaze upon the bluish meadows. ¡°Captain¡­ I think that¡¯s the first time you¡¯ve ever looked at me with such eyes. You have a wife, you know¡­¡± Jung replies with a confused scoff and takes his place next to her. ¡°You have quite the imagination, Jean. I was merely¡­¡± a sharp jab at his side¡ªincidentally in the same spot that Frau poked him in. ¡°Hey! Watch it, will you?¡± Jung retorts in protest. ¡°Sorry, captain, it¡¯s fun to tease you¡­¡± Jean replies apologetically as she twirls some of her wavy black locks of hair. Jung only huffs through his nostrils. ¡°First of all, stop calling me captain,¡± Jung reaches out and ruffles her hair ¡°and two¡ªyou drank a little too much, didn¡¯t you? If you get a hangover I don¡¯t want you crashing into a pole or a herd of emus¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, captain, don¡¯t worry about me,¡± Jean leans into Jung and nestles her head on his shoulder ¡°¡­is what I would usually say¡­ I want you to worry about me.¡± Jung takes a deep breath and exhales without saying a word. ¡°It¡¯s hard to believe that in less than a month, you¡¯re going to be a father¡­ it¡¯s not too early to congratulate you yet, is it?¡± Jean asks but Jung merely nods his head, content with letting Jean run her monologue a little while longer. ¡°You know, captain¡­ I used to be so jealous of Frau¡­¡± she pauses with a burrowed frown ¡°well¡­ I suppose I kind of am. She¡¯s a lucky girl¡ªand I¡¯m happy for her. I¡¯m happy for you too, captain¡ª that you managed to finally find someone and settle down with. ¡°When she announced she was pregnant¡­ I was honestly really happy; I would think to myself something like, ¡®the captain is such a wonderful man. I¡¯m sure he will be an amazing father, and I could be that doting aunt that treats the child like her own,¡¯¡± she looks up at Jung with a bleak smile. In truth, Jung is not confident he will be a capable fatherly figure; his father, Jung-woo Lee, walked out of their family when Jung was only about ten years old for his younger mistress. ¡°I knew it would be a hopeless pursuit chasing after you¡ªhoping you might one day look at me the way you¡­¡± Frau pauses to close her eyes while slightly brushing her head on Jung¡¯s arm ¡°¡­a part of me knew that even after her death, I could never compete with Fa¡ªand even more so when you met Frau. If there¡¯s one thing I have over either woman, I think¡­ is that I¡¯ve known you the longest than either. ¡°I¡¯m just happy¡­ that I could be by your side, captain¡­ after all these years. Even if you never once looked at me as a woman, I¡¯m still glad I met you, the gang, and Frau¡± Jean says, and the rustle of flowerbeds captivates the moment. Jung does not say a word; long-repressed memories of his past experiences with Jean¡ªand indeed Fa¡ªcertainly does rip at his heartstrings. Jung carefully slips the coat over the nearly-dozing Jean. ¡°C¡¯mon, we gotta get you to your bed. Do you think you¡¯re capable of walking?¡± Jung asks while lightly tapping her on the shoulder to keep her awake. She only looks up at her beloved captain with sheepish eyes. ¡°I don¡¯t know¡­¡± she responds with unce. ¡°You still think you¡¯re capable of driving tomorrow morning?¡± Jung asks again and Jean nods head in response ¡°I can walk you down to your front porch at least.¡± ¡°That would be nice,¡± Jean coos as she tries to steady herself ¡°it¡¯ll make me feel a little nostalgic about our old times together,¡± she tightens the jacket around her and walks¡ªalbeit wobbly¡ªout onto the front yard. Jung follows closely behind her and the duo walk quietly along the dirt road to Jean¡¯s house. ¡°By the way,¡± Jung begins cutting the silence ¡°stop calling me captain.¡± Jean¡¯s only response is an intoxicated giggle that compels even Jung to crack a secretive smile. Chapter 55: Memories of Toscana | The Dozing Wulf Stirs
THE NEXT MORNING
Jung wakes at the crack of dawn and hurriedly gets dressed; Frau had already woken up sometime before he did and spent the morning preparing breakfast for Jean and her company. He looks out his bedroom window and already sees the wagon trucks¡ªfour in total¡ªall loaded and lined up in a convoy. Jean and the men, however, are standing near the driveway¡¯s cobblestone wall exchanging looks and pointing at something in the distance. And when Jung squints to see what they are observing, he immediately rushes downstairs past his perturbed wife and onto the driveway. A lone car. It¡¯s rare for Jung to get visitors. It¡¯s even rarer for anyone to know that he is out here. He seldom conducts businesses at the farm; they¡¯re almost always in town. ¡°What is going on?¡± Jung pants as his out-of-shape body struggles to keep up the pace. Jean and the others turn their attention to the old pirate captain. ¡°Do any of you recognize that car?¡± A shift of eyes and some nervous throat clears here and there. ¡°We were hoping you knew who it was, boss.¡± One of the farmhands remarks ¡°should we get our guns? It could be a vigilante¡­¡± ¡°Nonsense,¡± Jung replies ¡°if that were the case, they would have tried to out me years ago. Hell, they would raise a small army to torch this place¡ªbut just in case I want most of you standing back,¡± with a wince he continues ¡°in the worst-case scenario, it is likely someone from Brunsb¨¹ttel¡ª¡± a spell of silence ¡°someone from the Mafia.¡± The farmhand from before opens his mouth to say something, but refrains and shrugs his shoulders. Almost everyone except for Jean quietly retreats to give Jung and the encroaching visitor some room. Jung only watches in firm silence as the car speeds closer to the farmstead, and eventually comes to a halt at least a yard away from where the duo stands. For Jung, he would much rather prefer if it was some vigilante seeking vengeance than a spokesman from the Mafia. It would seem fitting to die in a blaze of glory than be dragged back into the Mafia and fight needless battles. Jung gets a good look of the man as he exits his vehicle but doesn¡¯t recognize him in the slightest¡ªand much to his dismay he believes it is a Mafia man judging from the signature apparel that the syndicate is known for; a brown poncho and a brimmed hat that obscures the eyes. ¡°Hold it right there!¡± Jung calls out to the mysterious stranger. His guest had taken a few steps toward Jung but stopped on command. Jung rests his hands on his sides and suddenly wants to kick himself for leaving his pistol by the bedside drawer. ¡°That¡¯s as far as you¡¯re going. State your business; who are you?¡± Jung shouts and tries to peer into the man¡¯s partially obscured eyes. The poncho partially obscures his build, but he is a finely-built man¡ªperhaps even more muscular than what he remembers of Che¡ªand Jung has seen his fair share of industrious men in his lifetime. The man slowly lifts his hat off, revealing a shaved head and distinct scars on either side of his face. Cold, greenish eyes stare into Jung¡¯s¡ªnot exactly something he would call friendly. ¡°My, my,¡± the man says with a rather monotonous tone ¡°is that how the legendary Wulf welcomes his visitors?¡± ¡°There is no longer a Wulf¡ª and he doesn¡¯t receive unannounced visitors in the first place,¡± Jung gravely retorts while exchanging glances with Jean, who takes deep breaths. ¡°I won¡¯t ask again¡ªwho are you? Who sent you?¡± The man raises his hands, and his lips tighten in a slight frown. ¡°Do you know how hard it was to locate you? None of the townspeople even knew who you were¡ªit was a pain in the ass finding leads. But one regular of yours finally gave me a pointer¡­¡± he flashes teeth lined with bracers ¡°as expected of the discrete Wulf; a true wolf in sheep''s clothing!¡± ¡°For a macho man, you seem to be really hard of hearing¡ªwhose man are you? Chou? The Dong?¡± Jung¡¯s gaze narrows ¡°Oliver?¡± This man is not one that he recognizes during his time. Though, it wouldn¡¯t surprise Jung if the Don went on a recruiting spree after he retired. Brunsb¨¹ttel reeked of being a slum, so there surely would be some incentive to join the Mafia. Jung did the same when he was younger, and he has no doubt today¡¯s youth would do much the same. The man only laughs, ¡°sorry, mister Jung. The name¡¯s Keane¡ªI serve Madame Hwang directly.¡± ¡°Hwang¡­ Kamon?¡± Jung cranes his neck in confusion at the equally baffled crowd of onlookers ¡°what the hell does that woman want with me? Does Simon know about this little detour of yours?¡± But even before finishing his sentence, Jung already knows there is only one possibility that would compel Hwang of all people to start sending henchmen to scour the settlements for him. Keane flashes his braced teeth again. ¡°Slow one, eh, Wulf? There¡¯s a threat looming at Dissenland¡­ they say an armada of over two thousand ships are enjoying a nice camp-out over there,¡± when Keane finishes, there are a lot of tense murmurs from the onlookers. ¡°By them¡­ you mean?¡± Jung hesitantly asks silencing the observing murmurs. Keane nods his head. ¡°Word is, it¡¯s a coalitional force¡ªthe Mericans, the Ruthenians, some Lombardian ships¡­ and the main contingent is the Metropolitan fleet.¡± ¡°Lotta intelligence spewing from a knucklehead,¡± Jung states flatly while crossing his arms ¡°and how exactly is this my problem? Whatever happens is none of my concern. I¡¯m living an honest life now. I have a family and a farmstead to tend to. The little young¡ªLi¡ªand Simon are still around, are they not?¡± Jung aggressively waves Keane off and heads back towards the house. ¡°See to it that he gets removed, Jean¡ª¡±? The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Just because you are a free man now¡­¡± Keane shouts as the group slowly converges on him ¡°doesn¡¯t mean you should abandon the ones that made you what you are now!¡± Jung freezes in his tracks. ¡°Just what do you know¡­¡± Jung turns around, and the others back off from Kean ¡°¡ªand just what do you know about what makes a man or not?!¡± Jung walks back towards Keane and grabs him by the collar ¡°you hardly look like a made man yourself! Judging from that lousy Toscani accent of yours, aren¡¯t you hardly a babe?! ¡°You¡¯re far too green to know what the hell you¡¯re talking about. I have done all I could do for the Mafia¡ªeven before it¡¯s conception, and it has done all it could for me! I owe it nothing,¡± Jung tightens his grip on Keane¡¯s mantle ¡°¡ªjust as it owes me much the same; nothing!¡± Jung shoves the man with a grunt and backs away towards the house again ¡°¡­if you know what¡¯s best for you, mister Keane,¡± Jung says as he dusts off his clothes ¡°you should leave the Mafia while you still can. ¡°I¡¯ll let it slide over what happened just now and even let you stay at my farm. There¡¯s no future to be had in this wretched line of piracy. There is no happy ending to be achieved¡ªit leads down a path of sorrow and sacrifices,¡± Jung looks up toward the morning sky ¡°it destroys who you are¡ªyou may accomplish great deeds¡­ but it will be at the cost of your humanity. The civilians you may have known and loved will be caught in the crossfires¡ªone way or another.¡± With the assistance of others, Keane helps himself up. ¡°E-even so! Jung¡­¡± ¡°Enough! I don¡¯t care what the Don or the hag wants. Simon and his protege are more than capable of defending the Rouen corridor¡­ there¡¯s no need for a dying breed of men like me.¡± ¡°Jung¡­ what do you think will happen if they fail at Rouen?¡± Keane extends his arms out ¡°if the Federation wins at Rouen¡­¡± he shakes his head sternly ¡°it¡¯s all over¡ªformer pirate or not, it doesn¡¯t make a difference to them. They¡¯ll comb all the settlements and all the Clusters for any signs of fugitives! And that includes you¡± Keane points toward the crowd ¡°that includes them¡± the hand gravitates towards the house ¡°and your family. ¡°Listen to me, Jung! Everything you have strived for will be for naught if you don¡¯t fight! Do you want to surrender your rights to the Federation without so much as lifting a finger? If you back down now¡­ could you live with yourself if the Federation harms your family?!¡± Jung grits his teeth and turns to face his reality. Jung opens his mouth to argue¡ªbut he can¡¯t think of anything to say. From behind, Jung hears the creak and slam of the front door as Frau steps out into the yard. ¡°What¡¯s going on out here, Jung?¡± The worried tone of Frau as she waddles closer to the group ¡°is everything alright?¡­ who is that man?¡± She asks with increasing worry. To fight or not? It¡¯s a thought that weighs heavily on his shoulders. Does he go and fight for his freedom, or does he lie down like a dog and watch helplessly as the Federation tears apart the paradise he built with his own two hands? All Jung has ever desired is a quiet life: a life away from hostility and the galaxy at large. Jung has only ever wanted one thing: to spend the remainder of his life raising his child¡ªto be a supporting father when he still has the chance¡ªand die peacefully of old age on a rocking chair. It¡¯s all Jung has ever wanted; it¡¯s all he never needs. Jung cuts loose a mightily exhale amid the crowd¡¯s collective bated breath. Keane walks towards his vehicle, ¡°if you need time to decide, I will be in town for a few more days¡ªmost of the fleet has already finished assembling outside the Brunsb¨¹ttel¡­ but they¡¯re still expecting ships to arrive from the other systems. I¡¯ll be at that reiichi parlor awaiting your answer, but no more than a few days,¡± Keane opens his driver¡¯s door and takes one step inside. Jung¡¯s fist clenches tighter¡ªhis nails dig into flesh. ¡°Wait,¡± Jung states. Kean stops and rescinds from the vehicle. It cannot be helped. No matter where Jung may go¡ªno matter what he may do in life, his muddled past will always play catchup. Jung has accepted that one day his day of reckoning will come¡ªand that day has finally arrived. Jung looks back at the anxious Frau, and the same thought crosses his thought more starkly; it simply cannot be helped. No, Jung shakes his head. There was never a possibility of them living in solitude. He never truly walked out of the Mafia¡ªit was merely the golden summer of his life, a period that he hoped would persist until his dying breath. A glimmer of hope that his feats and atrocities would long be forgotten about. But now, his dreams are cast aside for the greater good of the Mafia. The greater good, huh? If Jung was still in his youth, he¡¯d find the whole idea fascinating. Perhaps that kindled spirit still burns very slightly. Jung turns his back to Kean to face Frau directly. Her eyes widen in horror when she finally registers what is happening. It¡¯s a look that disheartens Jung greatly, but it¡¯s something he has to bear with. ¡°D-darling¡­ don¡¯t¡­¡± She stammers, and she clenches him ¡°you can¡¯t. You can¡¯t¡­¡± Her trembling hands and quivering lips further crushes Jung. ¡°Surely¡­ surely there has to be another way¡­ we¡­ can¡­¡± ¡°If I don¡¯t come to them¡­¡± Jung takes a deep breath, looking past Frau at Jean and the others ¡°they will come to us¡ª to you. I don¡¯t¡­ want another person I love to be hurt.¡± Frau rests her head on Jung¡¯s chest and tries to stifle quiet sobs. Jung wraps his arms around her in a feeble attempt to comfort her ¡°just promise me¡­ just promise me you¡¯ll come back alive,¡± Frau says tearfully, as she lifts her head to Jung. ¡°Do it for our baby¡­¡± Jung knows full well that will be a herculean wish to fulfill¡ªover two thousand ships means it will not be anything less than a bloody brawl. ¡°I will do whatever it takes to defend our future¡ªthis will be the last time I will be involved with the Mafia,¡± he strokes Frau¡¯s soft orange hair and wipes the tears from her eyes ¡°so wait for me, Frau¡ªwait for me¡ªand I will return.¡± Jung hugs Frau one last time before stepping away. He looks back at Jean and the others nodding in silence with his decision. ¡°Well, mister Keane¡ªif you happen to have a shuttle for me and my men willing to tag along, I¡¯m sure we can hop a ride after we finish this convoy shipment.¡± Keane nods and flashes his braced teeth. ¡°Sorry about the circumstances¡ªbut welcome aboard, captain.¡± With an exasperated sigh, the Wulf der Ruthenia steps forward to face his destiny head-on. He will atone for his crimes at Abassi¡ªand his failure to protect Fa all those years ago. Whatever it may take, the old Wulf will stand his ground. Chapter 56: Memories of Toscana | Between Promises It had been years since Jung had last ventured into space. Readjusting to artificial gravity was difficult on his brittle bones and there were a few cases where he almost threw up on the poor sod next to him. There is almost a silver of regret coming up here after all these years. Just outside the shuttle¡¯s porthole Jung can confirm what Keane said earlier that day; there were hundreds of ships of various sizes cruising around at most Lagrange point Clusters¡ªall heading for the one closest to L¨¹beck and Jung¡ªSide Brunsb¨¹ttel. Jung leans forwards in his seat and wonders if there are even enough ships available throughout the Mafia that could be scrambled together to fight the Federation in the Rouen corridor; two-thousand ships. It¡¯s not a number to take lightly and Jung finds it almost unbelievable. This force sounds almost twice as big than what the Federation was capable of mustering at Abassi in 216. A ringing sound overhead snaps Jung out of his thoughts. Keane emerges from the cockpit leaving the rest to his co-pilot. ¡°We¡¯re heading towards theDon¡¯s Montepuez and will be there innabit. You¡¯re all free to move around freely until we start docking on the runaways.¡± ¡°Simon¡­¡± Jung interjects ¡°is he at the Montepuez? Or at Li¡¯s Castelforteperhaps?¡± Keane looks at him dumbfounded but shakes his head. ¡°Can¡¯t say he is. The Don ordered him to stay behind at Brunsb¨¹ttel¡­¡± ¡°What?¡± Jung almost jumps up from his seat ¡°how prosperous. What is the Don doing?¡± Kean only offers a shrug in response. ¡°Supposedly Madame Hwang wants him to save-face in the capital¡­ if the civvies see all the Mafia folks leave, she and the Don fear that there might be attempts at a civil uprising¡­ so he is staying behind with most of theDon¡¯s elite honchos to ensure there is public order.¡± ¡°Just my luck¡­¡± Jung groans with his head hung low ¡°with Li I have no qualms with¡­¡± Jung sighs and scratches his stubble ¡°but with no real mediator between Zhui and us, it will be several times more difficult to coordinate with that wretched man.¡± ¡°What do you intend to do, captain?¡± Jean asks while stroking Jung¡¯s head. Kean crosses his arms and leans over to a porthole to glance at the assembling fleet. ¡°Frankly, there is nothing I can do¡­¡± Jung responds with a discouraged sigh ¡°and since Simon isn¡¯t tagging along I want to make one little detour before we head for the Castelforte¡­¡± ¡°¡ªNot the Montepuez?¡± Kean interjects looking back in surprise. Jung only shakes his head. ¡°I¡¯m not setting foot anywhere near that ogre. It¡¯s better if we stick with the Scarface and coordinate our defenses together,¡± Jung says before pausing ¡°anyway, re-navigate the shuttle for the Brunsb¨¹ttel. I want to pay a visit to my old friend before we join the fleet.¡± Kean nods with a sigh and heads back into the cockpit.
After communicating with the harbor¡¯s tower, the shuttle touches down gently at one of the designated landing pads assigned to it. When the coast is clear and permission is given to unfasten from their seat-belts many get up for much-needed stretches. Jung does not participate, however, and he quickly activates the escalator and waits for it to roll out. A tap from behind makes him turn around; Jean, of course. ¡°The one you¡¯re visiting¡­ Simon, right?¡± She asks, peering out of the adjacent porthole. ¡°Do you want me to tag along, or¡­?¡± Jung follows her gaze and finds the harbor mostly empty by now¡ªthere are occasional trucks, unused barges, and empty crates here and there. One similar vehicle catches Jung¡¯s eye¡ªa dark-blue automobile with a taste in design that makes Jung roll his eyes. Jung only shakes his head. ¡°Sorry to say, but I¡¯d appreciate it if Simon and I have some alone time for now. I¡¯ll join you guys the moment we finish business. Just a little catching up, I won¡¯t be long.¡± Jean nods and steps aside for Jung to make his way down the esculator. A tall figure emerges from the backseat of the vehicle. Jung is a little surprised he is even here¡ªtruthfully Jung expected to find him at his residence and spend a little longer on his detour to locate the man. Perhaps Simon was expecting him? Jung wouldn¡¯t put it past the man if he happened to overhear that the man sent by Hwang is returning so soon to theBrunsb¨¹ttel. A puff of smoke from the man¡¯s lips materializes with the overcloud mist procured from the shuttle¡¯s engines. It provokes Jung into coughing into his arm because of the strong smell. It¡¯s been too long since he felt agitated by such toxic fumes. The air in Brunsb¨¹ttel is so suffocating that it instantly makes Jung homesick for L¨¹beck¡¯s clean air. Here, his lungs burn from agitation. ¡°Jun¡­?¡± Simon utters¡ªto Jung¡¯s surprise¡ªand the cigarette he held in his hand drops to the floor. ¡°I don¡¯t believe my eyes¡­ am I finally going mad from space radiation? Am I seeing a dead man walking?¡± Simon blinks rapidly. Jung can only surmise that walking through the misty air gives the impression that the Wulf is a ghostly figure. In some ways, he is a dead man walking all things considered. It is rare for one to simply walk out of the Mafia, and even rarer to be welcomed back into it. But this is what the Hwang wanted, and so it is what the Hwang gets. ¡°I¡¯d be more worried about the nicotine going to your head,¡± Jung answers matter-of-factly. Simon can¡¯t help but lightly scoff and place his hands on his hips. ¡°Word must spread fast about the Federation sniffing their nose around, huh?¡± Simon asks ¡°is it me? Am I doing a horrible job at suppressing rumors?¡± Jung only shakes his head. ¡°One of Kamon¡¯s men went out of his way to comb L¨¹beck looking for me. Sad to say, but I didn¡¯t do a good enough job of keeping a low profile,¡± Jung grimaces, realizing that he had been ratted out by a civilian of all things. ¡°A part of me hoped it was some young-gun looking to avenge one of the hundreds of people I¡¯ve murdered,¡± Jung says with a contorted face again ¡°it beats being in this situation¡­ I¡¯m impressed that slipped past you of all things.¡± When Jung finishes, Simon only scratches his head. ¡°I knew she sent men out for something¡­ but she wouldn¡¯t tell me why. The old hag never likes to tell me anything. She¡¯s so discrete and I can never read into her motives¡­¡± Simon¡¯s arm drops to his side ¡°if I had known the true purpose of his departure, I would¡¯ve stopped him in his tracks¡­¡± Simon stares at Jung with narrowed eyes ¡°I would¡¯ve never allowed it if I had found out sooner. To rip a man from his honest living for such selfish reasons makes me sick¡ªnot even Zhui would stoop that low.¡± Simon clenches his fists. ¡°I knew that this day would come eventually,¡± Jung says with a sigh ¡°it would have made no difference either way¡ªeven if I refused to fight, if the Federation bring the Mafia into a pitched battle¡ªit won¡¯t be another Abassi¡ªno¡± Jung shakes his head ¡°it will be worse than Abassi. We have nowhere else to run¡ªand they say the Frankish Realms are armed to the teeth with their Side defenses. We have to make a stand here,¡± Jung slaps his chest ¡°Ihave to fight here¡ªfor my life¡ªand my wife and son¡¯s future.¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. Simon raises his head in shock, ¡°Frau¡­ she¡¯s pregnant?¡± Jung nods his head. ¡°Since November¡­¡± Jung says in a lower voice and clears his throat. ¡°Which means she¡¯s due next month¡­¡± Simon¡¯s eyes close shut and he lets out an agonized sigh ¡°what awful circumstances you¡¯re in, Jun¡­ I had no idea¡­ I suppose it would be too late to say congratulations.¡± ¡°It¡¯s all the more reason to fight,¡± Jung responds. ¡°Never in a million years would I ever think to hear those words coming from you of all people,¡± Simon remarks ¡°so¡­ what compelled you to come out and see little old me? Wanted to make sure I wasn¡¯t in a cemetery yet, eh?¡± ¡°Well¡­ you are not half wrong¡­ I was concerned you weren¡¯t going with the fleet¡­ it must be rough not being able to watch over Li¡ªbut thinking about it now, it does make sense why they would drag me out of retirement¡­ Simon, do you believe she is capable of fending off the Federation by her lonesome?¡± Jung has been looking back at the shuttle and glances over at Simon who continues to enable his distressing habit of smoking ¡°also, I thought you would¡¯ve quit by now.¡± ¡°The day I stop smoking is the day I drop dead,¡± Simon states in a dry manner ¡°it upsets me too¡ªI still don¡¯t know what the hell Dong is doing. He¡¯s sending Che out to Valspon and waves it off as good training for him¡­¡± Simon rips the burnt-out cigarette from his mouth and smashes it into the dark tray next to him. ¡°He¡¯s risking our behind with such an appointment¡ªeven sending Li over there would be more beneficial¡ªI suggested Che remain here, and me accompanying Zhui instead, but he wouldn¡¯t let me have a word in,¡± Simon says bitterly as he puffs rings of smoke through his nose. ¡°Che?¡± Jung folds his arms and leans against the hood of the car ¡°what an odd choice¡­¡± ¡°Zhui digs deeper in pursue of his paranoia, he can¡¯t trust Li alone,¡± the lighting of another cigarette ¡°rambles on that she might plot against him at Valspon.¡± Jung always knew that Li had increasing influence particularly in the aftermath of Abassi. Few men could claim to accumulate such power and even fewer live long enough to harness it. It¡¯s one of many reasons why Jung bowed out of the Mafia¡ªhis fiery youth was spent fighting and raiding¡ªpetty Mafia affairs were beneath him, and even he recognized that opposing the Don in any capacity is a one-way ticket to having your whole family slaughtered. He knew one too many disgruntled compatriots who have gone missing after seeking to conspire against the Don¡ª particularly after Abassi and the decision to abandon their criminal enterprises in Merica and Ruthenia. ¡°Li must be twenty or so by now¡­¡± Jung remarks stroking his stubble ¡°to be constantly under the looming wrath of Zhui must take a strain on her,¡± Simon only shake his head. ¡°She often confides in me she pays no mind to Zhui, and knows better not to overstep her bounds¡­¡± Simon takes a particularly long drag from his cigarette ¡°¡­the only reason he has her around is because of her capacity for situations like this.¡± Jung only replies with a heavy sigh. ¡°The poor girl¡­ if you weren¡¯t around I shudder at the thought of what he might do with her¡­ Simon, you better make sure you live longer than that oaf¡ªfor Li¡¯s sake.¡± ¡°Speak for yourself,¡± Simon retorts as he crumbles up an empty carton and slips out a new cigarette to smoke ¡°you better damn well survive through this mess and return home to be a family man.¡± ¡°We could go back and forth with this¡­ but isn¡¯t it about time for you to do the same?¡± Jung states¡ªbut he has a nagging hunch that it was insensitive and sinks teeth into his lower lip ¡°¡ªsorry, that was¡­¡± ¡°¡ªHitting below the belt?¡± Simon says with a slight cackle ¡°I tried that once¡­ and it didn¡¯t work out too well¡­¡± Simon stops to take a prolonged huff from the dwindling cigarette¡ªand then a hard tap on the ashtray. ¡°I¡¯ve always been shackled with responsibilities¡­ and I believe I told you before¡ªno matter what, I will uphold my oath to Zhui¡­ and I must be there for Li¡­¡± Simon¡¯s voice drops as he crushes what remains of the cigarette between his thumb and index finger ¡°¡­it¡¯s the most I can do as atonement for her family. ¡°In a way, with Li¡­¡± Simon trails off with an open mouth flowing with purplish fumes ¡°I don¡¯t need anyone but her¡ªand she has always relied on me; being there for her is what I do best. I¡¯ll never let anyone lay a finger on her so much as I breathe. But this time¡­¡± Simon partially taps another cigarette out of the carton ¡°she¡¯s on her own¡ªand that frustrates me greatly¡­ so with that said, Jun,¡± Simon gets up from the car and turns to face Jung ¡°I have to ask a favor of you¡ªas a selfish old man to another, please, do whatever it takes to ensure Li returns safely,¡± the two lock eyes ¡°it¡¯s all I will ask of you¡ªand nothing more.¡± Jung only scoffs, ¡°that¡¯s an easier task than promising my wife to stay alive,¡± but his slight grin only disappears ¡°if by chance I don¡¯t return¡ªplease do what you can to ensure my wife has an easy life. I¡¯m sure you can send some freeloaders off to her on our farm, or perhaps money stipends¡­¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous,¡± Simon sternly interjects, but blinks and forces a cough, ¡°I will do what I can¡­ but it won¡¯t be necessary, I¡¯m fully confident you will come back to me in one piece¡ªalive, so don¡¯t go all sentimental on me already¡± Simon steps toward Jung and gives him a hard pat on the shoulder. ¡°You got this, Jun, you and Li will be unstoppable together; give them hell for me, will ya?¡± Simon asks with a grin ¡°I¡¯d love to catch up with you more¡ªmaybe over some drinks even¡ªbut I¡¯ll save talking your ear out until you get back¡ªuntil that time comes, take care in the meantime, Jun. Do it for your wife¡ª¡± Simon pulls Jung closer by the collar ¡°¡ªand for Fa.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll hold you to that, and speaking of which,¡± Jung snatches the carton out of Simon¡¯s other hand. He slips one stick out and lights it from Simon¡¯s still-burning one. With a single huff, Jung pollutes his senses with the rancid odor that overwhelms him with thoughts of sewage. The bitterness of the drag makes him nearly gag as the smoke runs coolly down his throat and burns his lungs like none other. Jung snorts out a cloud of smog that is not quite opaque¡ªand observes as the purplish cloud of toxin swirls upward before curling into nothingness. Simon looks at him in curiosity, and only offers a scoff. Jung steadily crushes the cigarette into the ashtray and walks toward his shuttle. ¡°I¡¯ll simply never know how you became so fascinated with that substance of death,¡± Jung turns around to shout ¡°such a poisonous weapon! I can only feel sympathy for Li.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll lay off it when we meet again,¡± Simon shouts back ¡°I¡¯ll be clean as a celebration¡ªI think you¡¯ll deserve that much.¡± The two men grin, and once again, the two depart from each other¡¯s lives.
The voyage to the Castelforte is spent in silence as it slips through past the much-larger vessels. It¡¯s not long before the shuttle comes to a halt, and Jung and the others a slight jerk as their craft is lifted by mechanical clamps into the mothership. The creaks and moans of the mechanical arms cease, and the silence resumes¡ªinterrupted only by faint muffling that Jung barely makes out outside. Jung leads the way to the door, and after confirming that everyone is ready punches into the door panel to activate it. The door slowly slides open¡ªrevealing a misty fog that obscures Jung¡¯s vision. As the fog slowly subsides, Jung can make out a dozen silhouettes standing before the craft. One of them steps forward and cuts through the dry mist wall. And for a split second Jung¡¯s heart skips a beat. His brain stops thinking¡ªand he basks in the realization that the figure presenting themselves before him is Fa¡­ but there must be a mistake¡ªa figment of his imagination? ¡°F¡­a¡­?¡± Jung utters, rubbing his eyes despite the burning sensation brought about by the engine smoke. He takes a step forward out of the shuttle¡ªcloser to the one he perceives as his lost love. And then rescinds once the mist finally clears. ¡°Jung¡­ Lee, was it?¡± A dark-haired maiden with unkempt beauty and a distinctive facial scar-like no other asks with curiosity. His mind was playing tricks on him after all. Years ago, he had asked Simon if he saw Li in Fa¡ªbut perhaps it was Jung who saw that spirit in her. Jung can¡¯t help but brush off his embarrassment with a scoff. How envious he is of Simon. She had grown into being a beautiful woman; the disfiguring scar notwithstanding. If Jung were still younger he would¡¯ve found such a defacement more attractive. ¡°Is something the matter, Jung?¡± Li asks with sincerity in her voice and slightly burrowing her thin brows. Jung only casually shakes his head. ¡°I was merely taken back after seeing you after all these years, Li.¡± ¡°Likewise, it is quite a shock to see you again¡ª¡± Li tilts her head and gently strokes the chin-point of her scar ¡°if memory serves me correct¡­ you settled down with your wife a few years ago? I understand we are in a precarious situation¡­ but aren¡¯t you risking your life when you have so much to live for now?¡± Jung chuckles and again shakes his head. ¡°It¡¯s a necessary decision I¡¯m content to live with. If we lose here¡ªall my hard work will be for nothing. I fully intend to retire for good¡ªno matter what. If they have to drag this feeble wulf by the tail back through the fires of hell¡ªthen I shall put up a stubborn resistance all the same,¡± Jung finishes with a weak smile. Li nods, behind her the cadre of men clack their feet together and pump a fist to their chests; the typical salute of the Year 217 Mafia. Li then steps forward with an extended hand. Likewise, Jung reaches out with the opposite hand and clasps hers for a firm handshake. ¡°Although it may not be in the best circumstances¡­¡± Li grimaces with a slight grin ¡°it is good to have you back, Jung Lee.¡± ¡°I place myself in your care, Li,¡± Jung says reflecting her grin, ¡°let¡¯s get through this together.¡± Chapter 57: Memories of Toscana | At the End of Golden Summer
AUGUST 13TH, 220, AFTER 9 PM VELKSLAND TIME
SOMETIME BEFORE LI CHOU DEPARTS FOR VALSPON
THE DON''S Montepuez
Impossible. Jung still cannot comprehend the situation they¡¯re in now. As Jung stares at the command center¡¯s dark purplish carpet, Jung can only ponder if this is all merely a horrible, horrible fever dream. He has only been up here in orbit for only a couple of weeks at best, and his body still has a difficult time adjusting to the difference in gravity on L¨¹beck. Perhaps any minute now, Jung will abruptly find himself back home awoke with sweat in bed. Frau at his side, and staring at the pale blue ceiling that he has familiarized himself with for the past two years. But the more he blinks, the lesser that fantasy comes to fruition, and the more the purplish carpeting is burned into his retinas. Dong Zhui has terrible taste in furnishing. But Jung cannot remain fazed forever. Sooner or later, he will need to get his act together for the upcoming battle at Valspon. Li¡¯s plan is an incredible gamble¡ªif the Federation monitors their fleet as it leaves, it will be all over. But they have no other reliable options to adapt to the situation with; all he and the other lieutenants can do is put their faith in Li. As Jung gets up from his chair and heads out of the room he is approached by Li who greets him with a warm smile. Jung straightens himself from his slump, ¡°ah! Li, perfect timing. I wanted to speak to you about our plans for Valspon¡­¡± But Li gestures to say not another word and shakes her head. Baffled, Jung crosses his arms. ¡°I have other plans for you, Jung,¡± Li states ¡°you will not be joining me at Valspon,¡± despite the increased puzzlement written on Jung¡¯s face Li continues ¡°you will stay behind and see to it that my decoy plan here succeeds.¡± And like a cold spell, Jung finds himself at a loss of words. The surface of his skin gets chills when the words sink in. Today has just been one revelation after another. If he cannot go with Li to Valspon then keeping his promise to Simon will be practically impossible. Even that aside, how could he keep his promise with Frau? ¡°Now, hold on a minute, Li¡­ I know we¡¯re in a grave predicament, but now is not the time for rash decisions¡­¡± Li takes a particularly deep breath, ¡°it was a difficult decision for me to make, Jung, because I feel that you would be essential in the upcoming battle¡­¡± Jung¡¯s face goes pale, and his sudden dry throat makes it hard to register what she¡¯s saying. ¡°But Valspon will hardly be the battle itself¡­ the real importance will be here, and I have a scarce amount of talented lieutenants to utilize the decoys to their full potential¡ªthis might sound a bit flattering,¡± Li forces a smile ¡°but I feel that kind of dirty trick is¡­ as Olga or Sergi would say¡ª right up your ally.¡± The compliment aside, Jung remains undeterred, ¡°surely, you can leave behind either¡ªSergi or Olga¡ªto command the decoy operation here?¡± Jung protests. Li takes a step toward Jung and plants a hand on his shoulder. ¡°If I had even several of you, Jung, I would not need the original,¡± Li answers with another compelled smile ¡°unfortunately¡­ the Mafia has been in a sad shape after your departure¡ªa bunch of goons that don¡¯t know left from right, and as frustrating as that is, I have to merely adapt as I go on,¡± Li¡¯s grip on his shoulder tightens. The averting Jung makes eye contact with those colorful red eyes of hers, ¡°since I am facing a particularly rough shortage of Lees, I need you in your element¡ªI need you here, to fool the Federation into believing what they want to believe. Please, Jung¡­ I believe there is nobody else capable of it than you are.¡± There¡¯s no way Jung will be able to convince her mind. He breaks off eye contact with Li and looks down at the dark carpet. Although he may be the most experienced out of everyone present, he hasn¡¯t held a space-faring position in so long. He¡¯ll be rustic, and being rustic means more mistakes and inconceivable losses of life. Jung¡¯s head tilts forward and he grits his teeth. If Jung goes with Li he will only get in the way. Times and tactics change, experiences wither, and Jung can only imagine his decision-making abilities will have gotten dull and more conservative¡ªgone are the days where he would make bold and nefarious maneuvers that earned him the moniker ofWulf der Ruthenia. There¡¯s no telling just how the battle at Valspon will unfold. It may not even be his type of battle. Even if he goes¡­ there¡¯s no telling he can uphold his promise to Simon. Perhaps by staying here, he can keep his promises to Frau and Simon¡ªalthough Jung can¡¯t help but get a tinge of jealousy that Li will take center stage once again at Valspon¡ªjust like she did at Abassi at his expense¡ªbut it¡¯s a thought he quickly dismisses. The idea of achieving fame once more is beneath him now. Rather or not he is a stepping stone for Li and as long as she continues to live, nothing else matters: and that¡¯s not just speaking out of obligation for Simon, either¡ªit¡¯s what Jung genuinely believes as well. She alone is the future of the Mafia¡ªthe continuations of their hopes and dreams. Jung looks up to return Li¡¯s gaze and gives his answer in the form of a nod. ¡°This old tethered Wulf will serve you in whatever way I can,¡± Jung says solemnly ¡°if me being here puts you more at ease, then I will make it my duty to trick the Federation in plain view.¡± Li¡¯s chest rises and falls with each breath, and she turns to back off from Jung. ¡°Thank goodness¡­ with the biggest issue out of the way, I can focus on Valspon without anything holding me back,¡± she turns back to face Jung ¡°as I mentioned earlier¡­ I will be taking the majority of the ships with me¡­ so you will have at least three hundred combat-effective ships at your disposal¡ªyou should be able to hold out in the asteroid belt that obstructs our side of the corridor. But I hope it will not come to that before I return.¡± Jung nods. In the event fighting does break out, the pivotal fighting will be at first the corridor lane and then the asteroid belt. If he fails there, and if he fails to resist a Federation beachhead, it will be impossible to prevent anything short of a rout¡ªmuch less annihilation. ¡°It¡¯s nothing short of a miracle that there is a meteor shower occurring, otherwise none of this would be possible,¡± Li notes ¡°that should not only cover my withdrawal but also hinder Federation movements in the case that they advance. Let¡¯s just hope it persists for at least a few more hours.¡± ¡°The asteroids aside¡­ which ship will I be commandeering, Li? If I have to cozy up in the Montepuez¡­¡± Li waves one of her hands. ¡°Nonsense! I can at least give you a better accommodation than this rubbish. No,¡± Li winces another grin ¡°your old flagship¡­ the Wulfhere.¡± The name invokes a barrage of nostalgia¡ªa tug at his heartstrings. Did Jung doubt what he heard? With all the insightful news today, Jung ponders in earnest, it must be a clear indication I am going senile. ¡°My¡­¡± Jung stammers, ¡°you kept it around after all this time? Is¡­¡± he clears his increasingly dry throat ¡°¡ªis the original crew¡­?¡± Li nods, and Jung releases the bated breath he has unknowingly been holding in. ¡°It hasn¡¯t had a captain chair it since your departure¡­ for some reason or another,¡± the amount of times Li has to smile for his sake makes Jung a little guilty at best ¡°they¡¯ve been stubborn as mules and I have simply no idea what to do with them¡­¡± she places a finger on her lip ¡°I was meaning to surprise them¡ªand you¡ªsooner, but I got caught up in this whole ordeal. My apologies,¡± Li says as she steps out of the way of the door, ¡°you shouldn¡¯t keep your men waiting¡ªI am set to depart very soon.¡± Jung, unable to contain the excitement of seeing his men again overall these years, takes one eager step forward¡ªand then stops. After this, this may be the last time he will ever see Li again. His gaze turns to her, and she looks back piqued. ¡°Is something the matter, Jung? Do you not like this arrangement I set for you?¡± Jung¡¯s unrelenting gaze makes Li feel increasingly unsettled, and she strokes a few of her bangs, ¡°i-is there something on my face?¡± Li asks with uncertainty in her voice. Jung can only wonder if Simon had a similar sentiment when he saw Li off¡ªthe uncertain future that awaits them all¡ªthe uneasiness of who may return, and who may perish. A future that looks bleak¡ªbut with a strong will they can turn around their fortunes. In the blink of an eye, Jung surprises Li¡ªand himself¡ªby embracing her in a hug. The only thing that Jung processes afterward is a muffled cry originating from his shoulder¡ªand Li¡¯s warmth radiating with his body. Jung can¡¯t help but crack a smile at seeing a side of Li that perhaps not even Simon had seen before. ¡°What¡­ what brought this about?¡± The muffled voice of the young Madame objects ¡°you should know better than to suddenly¡­¡± Jung does not answer immediately. He silently endures Li flailing her arms around as she smacks his back with balled fists. But after a few seconds, Li settles down and her breathing returns to normal. ¡°Life is full of regrets, Li¡­¡± Jung finally answers as he strokes her raven hair ¡°there are many things I wish I could¡¯ve done better¡­ one day, this will all be a memory¡­ and I do not want you to head down the path of regret and lamentation¡ªas I¡¯m sure Simon does too,¡± Jung feels additional weight pressed into his back as Li reciprocates his hug. ¡°Do not do anything rash that could put you in immediate danger¡­ Li¡­ do it for this old man¡¯s heart¡ªand more importantly, Simon¡¯s. ¡°Simon¡¯s sole existence for living is for you, Li. Whatever you may do at Valspon, do it with great caution. I don¡¯t think either of us could withstand outliving yet another loved one,¡± Jung slightly clasps Li a little tighter ¡°¡ªdo it for not only Simon¡­ but for all of us. Never mind Zhui or even Che¡ªyou alone are the embodiment of the Mafia. If you die¡­¡± ¡°You¡¯re spouting such nonsense¡­¡± Li murmurs still pressed into Jung¡¯s shoulder, her balled hands dig into his shirting. ¡°Such ridiculousness¡­¡± The two spend a few more minutes in silence before Jung releases his grip to give Li some personal space. As soon as he moves away, though, Li turns her back to him and heads out into the hallway to which Jung follows suit. Out in the hallway Li still has his back to him and lets out an exasperated sigh. ¡°You just had to go and make a scene, Jung,¡± she mumbles as she wipes her eyes with the heel of her hands ¡°I¡¯m glad nobody happened to be around. Then I really would¡¯ve punished you.¡± Jung scoffs, unable to determine if he should actually take that as a threat or not. Compared to Li, his wife has more weight to her warnings. Jung finds Li¡¯s a bit more cutesy in comparison. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. ¡°I believe we should depart here, Jung. I believe there are some shuttle bays on that side of the ship,¡± Li states, only partially glancing back at Jung. ¡°You want me out of your sight that badly, huh?¡± Jung remarks with a snort. Li shoots him a twitching glare, and he sees her cheek blush slightly before quickly obscuring it with a rubbing hand. ¡°Nonsense, I merely don¡¯t want you doing anything embarrassing like that again,¡± Li retorts back. Jung can only express a beaming smile at Li¡¯s reactions. Jung snaps his boots together and proudly slams a balled fist to his chest, which finally compels Li to turn around to face him fully. ¡°So long, Li Chou¡ªThe Madame Scarface of the Year 217 Mafia,¡± Jung loudly states, provoking an embarrassing eye twitch from the Madame amid passing by onlookers ¡°I will now execute my order to oversee the ploy to fool the Federation as you pursue the Federation force at Valspon! The next time we meet, it shall be in celebration!¡± It was a bold and ridiculous statement, but just this once Jung wants to express himself in a youthful way. Li¡¯s annoyance subsides and she gives an affirmative nod. ¡°Take care¡­Wulf der Ruthenia. Hold the line. For the Mafia,¡± she finishes with a chest salute. ¡°For the Mafia!¡± Jung exclaims in unison with the hallway crowd. And with that the two head in part ways for their ships.
The Wulfhere. Even gazing upon its¡ªalbeit rustic¡ªred beauty leaves him speechless. It used to be what he called home¡ªand in that home were hundreds of tough men and women he called family. After Jung made it official he was leaving the Mafia, Simon permitted the crew to leave with Jung and retire the Wulfhere ¡ªbut manly felt too sentimental with the ship and refused to leave. As such, only about twenty or thirty of his most loyal men joined him in his self-imposed exile back in 217. ¡°It looks almost the same as it was even back then, huh, captain?¡± Jean muses in the seat next to him. Jung lifts a finger to object to being called that again¡ªbut he relents. Things are different now, and he has nagged her far too much about it over the years. Even in death, Jung wonders to himself, she would still call me captain. To the crew of the Wulfhere, he is neither Jung Lee nor the Wulf Der Ruthenina; he is merely the captain, and judging from what Li told him no other candidate has been able to live up to be the captain. To be regarded as the captain is to be idolized as the personification of the Wulfhere itself. ¡°Well¡­¡± Jung replies ¡°they did a half-ass job of maintenance,¡± it looks distressingly neglected and that brings Jung¡¯s spirits down a fair amount. Jung would¡¯ve never let this happen, and he better damn well get a good explanation why. If most of the crew did perhaps move on and pass the torch to a new generation of sailors, then he would perhaps let it slide. Their shuttle hails the Wulfhere and the pilot positions their vessel next to an open port of the ship. Jung looks out a porthole as a long rod extends to connect to their shuttle and finishes calibrating with a long hiss. Jung cannot see into the bridge connector but can make out many footsteps¡ªor¡­ rather, a parade of stomps. Before Jung can even make his way to the door to activate the panel, he is abruptly taken back when pounding on the door makes him leap back.¡°OI!¡± The muffled voice yells out in between the metallic bangs ¡°I thought we told that hag that we won¡¯t accept any more outsiders!!!¡± More banging rings in Jung¡¯s ears. Jean tugs at his shoulder. ¡°Captain¡­¡± she whispers, but Jung shushes her. ¡°Open this door if you know what¡¯s best for you, boy!!!¡± The muffled voice continues ¡°we¡¯ll send you back black and bruised as a warning to the hag!!!¡± Behind the agitator, Jung can barely make out a cadre of affirmative grunts and hollers. Jung only sighs, the Wulfhere must be in bad enough shape that radiation rays are piercing the hull and causing his men to lose their minds if they rough up Li¡¯s men. ¡®Stubborn as mules¡¯, that¡¯s what Li called them, it sure sounds like an understatement if anything! The constant banging and demands cause a migraine to develop for Jung, and he slaps his head with another intense sigh. Without another word, Jung punches in the side entrance¡¯s panel, and the door opens responsively. Just outside the open doorway is a fine-muscled man with his back turned to Jung, facing a rowdy gathering of thugs. ¡°We¡¯ll make sure the hag gets the message this time!!!¡± The man shouts, pumping a fist into the air, ¡°the Wulfhere takes no orders from greenhorn outsiders!!¡± Another roar of roaring compliances¡ªone not as loud as more and more slowly comes to their senses when they realize the door is open¡ªand freeze when they notice Jung. ¡°We¡¯ll never recognize Chou¡¯s authority over the Wulfhere!!¡± He preaches again, to less fanfare. The spell capitulates more and more of the crowd, some sweat, and others clear their throats. ¡°We¡¯ll never¡ª!¡± Jung takes only a step forward, and lightly taps the unsuspecting man on the shoulder. ¡°You¡¯ve finally come out of your hidey-hole, eh?!¡± The man grunts as he spins around with a devilish grin ¡°we¡¯ll send you¡­¡± the plastered smile ever so slowly rescinds ¡°¡­packing¡­¡± those gleaming eyes shrink ¡°tail in between¡­ your¡­¡± those confident eyebrows raise in terror ¡°legs¡­¡± his mouth hangs open, dry as sand. His eyes¡ªas well as the others¡ªswell up with transparent liquids. ¡°I think that¡¯s enough, Jargon,¡± Jung says in a composed manner. To Jung¡¯s astonishment, Jargon throws himself to the floor in prostration. And much like a line of dominoes, the others follow suit. ¡°PLEASE FORGIVE US, CAPTAIN!!!¡± Jargon cries out with his face planted on the floor. ¡°WE¡­ I DIDN¡¯T WANT TO¡­ WE COULDN¡¯T SIMPLY REPLACE YOU¡­!¡± Jargon¡¯s cries are drowned out by the wails of his posse behind him. Jean tries to stifle a laugh, but after Jung shoots her a glare she tries to cough it off. ¡°Lift your head, Jargon!¡± Jung reaches down and pulls Jargon up by the collar ¡°all of you! Enough of this charade. From now on, you will no longer cause the Madame any more trouble, you hear me? Whatever deeds you might¡¯ve committed in my absence, I will make you all repay back tenfold with sweat and blood!¡± ¡°C-captain?¡± Jargon whimpers as he tries to keep himself balanced. But Jung ignores him and continues down the connector¡ªmost already got up as ordered and lined the walls to give them space¡ª ¡°c-captain?!¡± As the two of them nears the entrance to the Wulfhere, Jung stops and steers around. ¡°Listen up!¡± Jung shouts ¡°years ago, as many of you are aware¡ªI walked out of the mafia to be a reborn man. I lived my life neck-deep side by side with you lot¡ªthrough the thick of it all in the pleasure-seeking path of notoriety. And I had enough of it! ¡°I couldn¡¯t handle another day being cooped up in this wretched sorry piece of shit that bears the notorious name of Wulfhere¡­ I return from beyond the grave now not because I desired to¡ªbut because destiny dug me out by force. This upcoming battle will be unlike anything we¡¯ve ever done before¡­ the Madame Scarface will be departing for Valspon¡ªleaving me in charge of an equally sorry sack of shit force against an armada numbering over two thousand! And I intend to keep my word to the Madame, and by extent, all of you will too. ¡°From this moment onward¡­ the curtain is about to rise on a new act¡­ a second act in which I guarantee there¡¯s no God. ¡°From hereon¡­ if you wish to bow out now¡­¡± Jung shouts, and sternly points past the cadre towards the shuttle doors ¡°NOW is your chance¡­ a life away from the Mafia¡ªa life away from it all! To serve alongside your brethren, or abandon your brothers. No one will think twice of your actions¡ªbut I only ask of this: will you regret it for years to come, or will you partake in a battle that will change the Mafia forever?!¡± When Jung finishes, he takes several deep breaths and examines the cadre closely. Not a soul moves. Not one budges. Except for one. But it¡¯s not a step backward towards the shuttle. It¡¯s toward Jung. Jargon. ¡°Captain¡­¡± he stammers, shaking his head, ¡°nobody in their right minds will leave¡ª¡± more steps forward ¡°we¡¯re here to fight¡ªand we will all fight with you!¡± He shouts back, joined by agreeing shouts and grunts. Jung grins. ¡°You battle-crazy lunatics! That¡¯s what I like to hear. Come! We have much work to accomplish!¡± Chapter 58: Memories of Toscana | The Curtain Rises
BACK IN THE PRESENT
AUGUST 15TH, 220, 1:30 AM DISSENLAND TIME
ADMIRAL DERYCK¡¯S MSN TRINIDAD
When I enter the bridge with a tray of coffee I find it packed more than it normally is. Over the last few days, more lenient shift breaks were given after enough complaints got through higher staff¡¯s thick skulls. This means that normally around this time it would¡ªunder normal circumstances¡ªbe a skeleton crew. The past couple of weeks have left us on edge and the cracks were starting to show; the bridge staff were experiencing burnout¡ªthe higher-ranked officers claim it¡¯s a necessity¡ªthe pirates could attack any moment now, and we have to be prepared. But nothing has been happening. Not now, not earlier, and not since we arrived here back in July. Everyone was eager for action¡ªbut it turned out to be a whole lot of nothing. Is this for the best? The pirates have no incentive to attack us¡ªthey have the geographical advantage. They have an asteroid belt, a narrow hyper lane corridor, and a meteor shower that would make advancement difficult. ¡°Lieutenant Descartes!¡± The high-pitched voice of my friend, Vinnie Kuenstler snaps me out of my rambling. She jogs up to me from a flight of stairs after scouting me out from a passerby group of junior officers. It seems whatever is attracting attention is at the communications station. ¡°Over here! Come on, come on!¡± She seems mildly excited despite the bags under her eyes. Poor thing has no sense of pacing herself when it comes to working. It may tell the higher-ups she¡¯s a hard worker, sure, but to me, it just generates worry. ¡°Vinnie¡ª¡± I put the tray down on the console next to us and hand her one of the plastic cups filled with lightly textured coffee ¡°I don¡¯t like having to remind you that you don¡¯t have to be so stiff about formalities with me,¡± Vinnie receives the cup from me to take tiny sips from it and wincing all the same from its overpowering texture. I¡¯ve known Vinnie long enough to know she isn¡¯t mature enough to drink coffee black. And yet, she perseveres because we happened to run dry of other goods like caffeine tablets. And although Vinnie wouldn¡¯t ever tell me outright, they are easier to bear with than what the Trinidad logistic officers state is coffee, but compared to Terra or even back home in Side Pallet, the Trinidad¡¯s stores of coffee is an even greater insult to regular ersatz. ¡°Also, I¡¯m not even a lieutenant yet,¡± I waggle a finger at Vinnie ¡°they are considering it¡ªso I¡¯m still just a sub-lieutenant.¡± Though with that said, it¡¯s not really a secret that I am a full-fledged lieutenant in all but formality. To me it doesn¡¯t make much of a difference anyway, it¡¯s just a few extra knuckleheads to babysit aside from a greater sense of responsibilities. ¡°Um¡­ sorry, Alexa,¡± Vinnie replies mellowly, staring into the green cup¡¯s contents. The next moment, though, she throws her head back and empties down the shoddy quality coffee. Vinnie returns the plastic cup to me and shows her appreciation with a smile. ¡°That aside, Alexa,¡± Vinnie looks a little more lively¡ªexcited even ¡°we¡¯re starting to get news from the reconnaissance craft that was sent out an hour ago.¡± ¡°The scout ships?¡± I utter in response and Vinnie nods. ¡°That¡¯s reassuring to know it wasn¡¯t an operation in vain, at least,¡± I draw a sigh of relief knowing that those brave pilots have at least survived their mission long enough to send back a transmission. It was a risky mission done without any real escort¡ªsince anything larger than even corvettes would be detected by the pirates. It¡¯s a mission Admiral DeRyck deemed a necessity but one that Rear Admiral Garofano objected to. Garofano openly expressed concern because the ones selected for the task were drawn from the colonial pool of servicemen and he fears that in the event their sacrifice is in vain it might cause discord in this hot mess of a fleet. It was only months ago DeRyck had to butt serious head with my father over the requisition of Ruthenian ships, and it was a situation only coolly defused with the help of Garofano¡ªwho himself is of Frankish descent and found common ground with my hotheaded father. But even still, bravery can only get you so far when you don¡¯t have so much of a means to defend yourself¡ªand scout ships are only equipped with the equivalent of pea shooters which is only capable of scaring away crooks with converted trash ships; not Mafia pirates. Life would be so much easier if we used artificial probes, but unfortunately, we don¡¯t have that cut out for us. ¡°Are the transmission guys still decoding it?¡± I ask Vinnie as we make our way the way she originally came from. ¡°I think so¡­ it seemed like a lengthy message,¡± Vinnie replies as we reach the lower end of the bridge. There are the two technicians there and what seems like guests trying to catch wind of what¡¯s happening. They must be warrant officers or leading seamen at least since they snap to attention with salutes upon seeing me and Vinnie. It sometimes feels like everyone treats me differently when word got out I was the daughter of the Mad Dog of Ruthenia but I find the whole idea ridiculous. ¡°At ease, you lots,¡± I mumble ¡°Warrant Officer Manche, I heard from Ensign Kuenstler here that we received a transmission from the asteroid surveyor team?¡± I ask Manche, who has briefly slid the headphones down his neck when he addressed me. ¡°Affirmative, ma¡¯am!¡± The shaggy-haired man answers ¡°I received the transmission about two minutes ago and asked Ensign Kuenstler to notify a higher-up as soon as possible,¡± Manche puts the headphones back on and adjusts the microphone piece ¡°they have been on radio silence up until then¡ªand radio operators throughout the fleet had also reported they had no contact with it once Sub-Lieutenant Lievmann and her crew entered the proximity of the asteroid belt.¡± That¡¯s odd. Only the sub-lieutenant sent back a message? She was among the lowest ranking sent out as a shuttle leader, wasn¡¯t she? If memory serves me right, there were at least four other lieutenants with her. ¡°No other messages from Lieutenant Commander Goldwasser and them? Ah, well,¡± I remark as I cross my arms and take a step closer to the monitor, attempting to read off the screen¡ªbut before I can, Manche jumps from his chair. ¡°Huh? No, that can¡¯t be right. Sub-Lieutenant Lievmann, are you sure?¡± Manche asks sternly, his eyebrows raised in suspicion ¡°is there any way to send back visuals¡­ Sub-Lieutenant Lievmann?¡± A single orb of transparent sweat beads down the side of his face. The sandy-haired warrant officer blinks several times and opens and closes his mouth repeatedly without uttering a word. Manche looks back at me with unsteady eyes as another drop of uncertainty races down his face. His Adam¡¯s apple bobbles nervously in his throat. With growing impatience, I rip the headphones from Manche¡¯s head and press one of the earpieces against my own. ¡°Sub-Lieutenant Lievmann, this is Sub-Lieutenant Descartes of the Trinidad! Get a hold of yourself and report status, over!¡± Even as I speak, garbled noise is the only response I get. Are our efforts to maintain communications in vain? No, I shake my head and a dawning realization gives me shivers. By breaking radio silence, they¡¯re risking getting exposed to enemy search teams! ¡°Lievmann, can you abort the mission?! Cut radio frequencies and return to the fleet at once!¡± But once again, there is only loud static. Was it all hopeless? Manche sinks back into his seat in silence. Not a single one of us says a word¡ªonly the eerily crackling emitting from the headset drowns out thoughts. ¡°Warrant Officer Manche¡­¡± my trembling voice cuts the silence ¡°what was Lievmann able to tell you about what happened at the asteroid belt?¡± It¡¯s a question we all know deep down¡ªbut it¡¯s one we want to deny. Manche is silent for a moment and turns to speak but an interruption from his adjutant snaps him back to the console. If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement. ¡°I-incoming communication from CS-104!¡­¡± Manche stares closely at the monitor with dilating eyes ¡°Lievmann¡¯s shuttle?!¡± A light-brown sheet of paper is spat out from the console port and I step forward to rip it out before Manche can get it himself. And with intense bated breath, I look down at the sheet of paper with wide eyes.
PIRATE FLEET CAMOUFLAGED
LARGE QUANTITY OF DUMMY BALLOONS
GOD SAVE THE FEDERATION.
I can hardly believe what I¡¯m seeing¡ªthis is so absurd I can¡¯t take it seriously. But it is nonetheless most likely the last transmission from Lievmann, and they have no doubt put their lives in enormous danger to send this last message. As I start to register the note¡¯s contents, boiling anger crumbles what was seconds ago a pristine piece of paper. The cigar has blown up on us¡ª we¡¯ve been had! I look up to see Vinnie and another looking over my shoulder drawing the same realization, teethes grit. Admiral DeRyck needs to know about this immediately. I tear myself away from the group and sprint up several flights of stairs. Curious onlookers crane their heads as I rush by, leaving behind a blazing path of murmurs in my wake. When I reach the top deck, I skid to a halt to change direction and head for the elevator hub just outside the bridge room. I skid to another halt in front of one of the elevator doors and rapidly smash the button to summon the lift. An eternity must have passed when I finally hear the humming of the cage as it responds to the query. And as the twin doors open, I instinctively try to burst in¡ªonly to take a few steps back in surprise. Standing before me, flanked by confused adjutants is the man himself with his deep-blue coat and signature mustache that curves like elegant handlebars. ¡°Hm?¡± The admiral looks down at me with calculating eyes ¡°Sub-Lieutenant Dolz¡­ er,¡± he clicks his tongue ¡°my apologies, I remember you held that surname in disdain¡­ Miss Descartes, is something the issue? It¡¯s unlike you to be seemingly running around amok.¡± After regaining my composure I return the admiral¡¯s fixating stare, ¡°I¡­ we received a confirmation from CS-104¡ªfrom Sub-Lieutenant Lievmann about findings from the asteroid reconnaissance team,¡± I press the slip of paper into his chest ¡°it¡¯s not much, but¡­¡± DeRyck carefully takes the paper from me and examines it closely. Likewise, his grip tightens on the abused scrap of paper and his cautious eyes turn to concern. The mustached admiral mutters something under his breath as if to cast doubt on the transcript. ¡°Sub-lieutenant, the CS-104?¡± DeRyck calmly asks as he slides the piece of paper into his breast pocket, then motions for us to walk briskly with him to the bridge. ¡°Has the bridge staff been able to contact any of the other shuttle officers?¡± ¡°I ran out as soon as I read this note, so I¡¯m not aware if they did or not,¡± I clear my throat, ¡°it¡¯s likely that Sub-Lieutenant Lievmann and her crew died in the line of duty. The radio operator who maintained the line with her¡ªWarrant Officer Manche¡ª he was unable to get any more out of her. That slip is all we currently have of the situation.¡± When we enter the bridge we exchange salutes with the staff present and make our way down the decks, but are stopped on the steps when someone frantically calls back to us. ¡°Emergency video transmission from CS-92!¡± One of the lieutenants shouts ¡°it¡¯s being sent to the whole fleet!¡± DeRyck frowns, and likely shares the same thought as me: not just the Trinidad, but the whole fleet as well? ¡°What are they doing out there? That will only induce a panic¡­ very well, put it on the main screen,¡± DeRyck orders. A video feed is broadcasted on the largest screen¡ªbut it¡¯s near impossible to make out. Either the signal is so weak or the shuttle has been damaged since the quality is garbled and somewhat white noise. I can barely make out an individual with a dark stained shirt shout something, but it¡¯s rather difficult to make out what they¡¯re saying. DeRyck returns up the steps ¡°are we able to stabilize the connection?¡± He inquires as the staff scrambles to improve the video feed¡¯s performance. Finally, the connection does seem to get better, and to my chilling horror, the individual is gravely injured. ¡°This is Lieutenant Commander Goldwasser¡­ of the¡­¡± Goldwasser holds on to something as his shuttle violently shakes, and ducks momentarily. For a while, the signal is disrupted briefly before it is restored albeit to poorer quality. ¡°I¡¯ve lost contact with Lieutenant Freier of CS-424, Lieutenant Chanter of CS-89, and¡­¡± Goldwasser¡¯s eyes widen as he turns his back to the screen to shout something, but it¡¯s impossible to make out what he¡¯s saying. The lieutenant turns back with sunken eyes ¡°Sub-Lieutenant Lievmann¡¯s shuttle suffered several direct hits¡­¡± he takes deep breaths and wipes sweat from his brow ¡°our craft is all that remains of the reconnaissance team¡­.¡± I slam down on the stair railing. We should¡¯ve sent escorts! The signal gets a little more garbled and we are unable to make out what Goldwasser says from then on, but we are quick to try and stabilize it more. ¡°The pirate fleet¡­¡± Goldwasser gulps with bulging eyes ¡°our worst suspicions were confirmed; the pirates aren¡¯t at Valspon! We were fooled¡­ as we were all fooled by the Scarface¡¯s ruse!¡± Goldwasser gets closer to the screen ¡°we couldn¡¯t believe it ourselves¡­ we flew too close to the sun for the forbidden knowledge, and suffered! The Castelforte¡­ the Madame Scarface ¡ª she left Valspon! ¡°All that is left are a fleet of decoy ships! WE WERE FOOLED!¡± Goldwasser is thrown back and we can hear the wails of sirens from his side. Gasps fill the bridge room¡ªpowerless to do anything about the CS-92¡¯s misfortune. The video goes pitch dark before a flashing red siren illuminates the room. For a few seconds, Goldwasser is nowhere to be seen after he was thrown back, but we see him struggle greatly to support himself at the console table. He looks off-screen in horror and only offers a scoff to his horrified spectators, ¡°So they finally found us, huh,¡± the edge of Goldwasser¡¯s mouth turns up in a grin ¡°it was only a matter of time¡­¡± Goldwasser pushes himself from the console and clacks his boots together. He snaps one hand flat over his temple and raises his chin slightly. ¡°This is the final transmission from the CS-92 under Lieutenant Commander Rolando Goldwasser¡­ Long Live the Federation! God Save the Federation!¡± And with that, the transmission cuts out. My knees give out and I slump onto a part of the stairway step. People shout over 8ne another but it makes no difference now. Dozens of servicemen lost their lives over negligence. We got too confident they would slip in and out without issue. I run hands through flowing red hair. This is despicable! Out of all the yelling, I selectively hear an exchange that gives me total chills. ¡°Commodore Schopp reports that his 19th and 37th Heavy Destroyer Squadrons are breaking formation and heading into the Rouen corridor!¡± Using the railing as support I weakly help myself up and gravitate towards the urgent staff officer relaying the news. ¡°¡ªThe 5th Cruiser Squadron has also¡ª¡± The admiral surprises me when he slams a balled fist onto the console, ¡°what the hell is Schopp doing?¡± DeRyck spits out ¡°those are Ruthenian formations¡­ where the hell is the discipline?!¡± More and more news of Ruthenian squadrons acting on initiative ¡°I should¡¯ve kept them in the rear¡­¡± DeRyck grunts ¡°I will see to it their officers are faced with disorderly conduct,¡± for a brief moment DeRyck glares at me without a word before turning his back to me and heading away ¡°Regardless¡­ inform the fleet to assume battle-stations; we will begin engaging the enemy at Valspon! It is now or never. If only I had a little more time to contact Commodore Chal¡­!¡± Once more I sink onto the stair step. Vinnie jolts up the stairs and crashes down to me, speechless. Will this be an easy victory, or have the curtains risen to a bloody brawl? Chapter 59: Memories of Toscana | A Cast of Doubt
THE WULFHERE
APPROXIMATELY AROUND THE SAME TIME
For Jung, it has been a long, uneventful day of nothing. He has overseen routine checkups on their forward lines for any sign of trouble. And frankly, it has probably been for nothing. No sudden alarms blaring a Federation party, no crying operator exclaiming that the whole Feddie armada will come down on them. And that makes Jung raise his head in ponder. If it has been for nothing, then, in his case, wouldn¡¯t that be for the best? The oddly relaxing atmosphere is something that Jung can take solace in. To have this comforting peace robbed from him in what could be any minute now would be nothing short of devastating, to say the least. In all honesty, it¡¯s been a miracle that for the last two days, the Federation has yet to catch on¡­ perhaps Li was correct in that he was more than capable for the job. If the plan was masterminded by anyone else, Jung has no doubt that the Federation would be parading in the L¨¹beck Clusters right about now¡ªclaiming to liberate it in the name of freedom, but what¡¯s to say the grunts won¡¯t take advantage of the chaos and commit atrocities on a populace already cowering under the heel of the Year 217 Mafia? When Jung thinks about his wife and all the innocent civilians that will have to endure suffering of greater magnitude under these Federation peacekeepers, he only gets more riled. ¡°Oi, captain! Is something on your mind?¡± Jargon¡¯s voice whips Jung around in mild surprise ¡°it¡¯s rare to see you plastered with such an ugly face,¡± Jung is reclining forward in his commander¡¯s chair but relaxes when Jargon leans on the chair from behind. ¡°Ah¡­ Jargon¡ªsorry, I was lost in contemplation about what would happen if we failed here. What would become of our loved ones¡ªin my case, my wife and the wonderful people of Ronda¡ªif the Federation so much as did more than just probe the settlements for stragglers,¡± Jung remarks as he strokes his unshaven chin. ¡°Getting old sucks, Jargon, when you get to my age your days of excitement feel like a fading memory. You wound up getting so dull that only reflecting on current and future happenings are the only stuff that interest you anymore,¡± Jung slaps one of his armchairs rests ¡°my advice to you would be to avoid rushing to get old too fast¡ªenjoy what you have now, I would say.¡± Jargon only offers a chuckling scoff as he moves away from the commander¡¯s chair to the adjacent railing and crosses his arms. ¡°I don¡¯t plan on it,¡± Jargon replies ¡°this could very well be the last hurrah of the Mafia, and I fully intend to go out in a blaze of glory with the rest of the lot,¡± Jargon smirks ¡°but still¡­ to think that we could be dancing right in front of the Federation eyes without so much as them batting an eye¡­ I hate to hand it to that aloof woman, but the plan she formed has been astounding so far¡ªeven if it is dreadfully boring,¡± Jargon crooks his head with a frown ¡°a part of me wishes she had sent us along with her¡ªmaybe leave behind that mean-looking Sergy or somethin¡¯¡­¡± ¡°You watch your goddamn mouth,¡± Jung scowls to which Jargon apologizes ¡°there will come a time when Li will take reins of the Mafia¡ªand the old guard like me will exist in fading memories. It would be in your best interest to shape up and be a better person moving forward¡ªif you continue to be insubordinate like this there¡¯s no telling what she may do to the supporters of buffoons like me¡ªshe may have a change of heart,¡± Jung walks toward Jargon and jabs a finger on the man¡¯s chest ¡°and purge followers to secure her place¡­ and she might start with people who get on her bad side if what she told me before I came back to the Wulfhere was any indication,¡± Jargon clears his throat and nods. Jung moves away and slumps back into his commander¡¯s chair. ¡°¡ªBut Li is not that sort of person, who knows if she may follow in Zhui¡¯s footsteps one day¡ªbut I believe Simon has set her on the right path. I believe she will treat every one of you as her own, but that¡¯s only if you give her the respect that she deserves.¡± Though in all fairness; the Year 217 Mafia has had a bloody streak of people seeking power and the subsequent purges that follow. It goes as far back as the 180s¡¯ when Captain Araki¡ªthe man that Jung, Simon, and Zhui conspired to depose¡ªhad murdered his captain before Araki met with the same fate in the mid 190s¡¯. Then there was the purge that was spurred on by Fa¡¯s death at the hands of Araki loyalists and the subsequent massacre that followed: Black Friday. Just remembering it is enough to make Jung¡¯s stomach churn. Even now, there is no telling how many were involved in Fa¡¯s death and how many were innocent. But that is something for Jung to dwell on for another time¡ªwhat¡¯s important now is who Li will consider a nuisance when she becomes the next Don¡ªif Zhui would even let her become one in the first place. What would stop her from becoming a total monster like Zhui? ¡°I understand, Jung¡­¡± Jargon replies as his eyes dwell on the floor. ¡°Don¡¯t give me that¡ªthe Madame will value actions over words, I¡¯d say¡ªso you better see to it that the Wulfhere will stop this rubbish rebellious stance that it has with her,¡± Jargon looks up with skeptical eyes ¡°of course after this whole ordeal is over, I fully intend to retire back to my farm on L¨¹beck. And I fully intend to settle things for good this time, Jargon¡ªI will officially be handing over the role of captain to you¡ª¡± ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous, Jung!¡± Jargon protests ¡°I do not deserve to¡ªnobody deserves the role of captain¡ª¡± Jargon stops when Jung hastily waves his hand no. ¡°You have more or less been acting as captain this entire time, no?¡± Jung asks and Jargon averts his eyes, teeth clenched. ¡°Perhaps it¡¯s because you kept throwing out outsiders that you felt your authority here on the Wulfhere was threatened?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not that¡­¡± ¡°Then why desist the idea of formally being the Wulfhere captain?¡± Jung crosses one leg over the other ¡°the men respect you¡ªand it¡¯s apparent to me they will obey your orders¡ªin my eyes, that more or less implies you have been the Wulfhere captain?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t get it, Jung¡± Jargon cuts in again ¡°it¡¯s large shoes to fill¡­ to be formally recognized as the captain will mean living up to the name of Wulf der Ruthenia,¡± before Jargon can comment any further, he is taken back when Jung laughs. ¡°You¡­¡± Jung cracks a grin and extends his arms out ¡°when I first became captain, do you think I was always the Wulf that stalked the colonies of Ruthenia? It took me years to earn that infamy¡ªto build that experience and become a living legend. I was a mere cub then¡ªand in some ways, I have rusted and regressed to that awkward youth,¡± Jung gets up from his seat and rests a hand on an aversive Jargon¡¯s shoulder ¡°after this is all over¡ªyou will become the Wulf der Rouen . Or rather¡­ I should say you already are the Wulf¡­ maybe your head is in the wrong place right now but I see in you what I was back then. You have what it takes to become the next Wulf.¡± Jargon¡¯s shoulders again and he clears his throat in defeat, ¡°but captain¡­¡± but Jung hears none of it, and he proceeds out of the bridge. ¡°Captain Jargon¡­ I think it has a nice ring to it, don¡¯t you think? Seeing as you are around the same age as Li, I believe you will be far more useful to her than I could ever hope¡ªand there¡¯s nobody else who¡¯s capable of becoming the next Wulf; you should be a little more honored to have my blessing¡­¡± Jung lets out a snort ¡°or I guess in the Wulf case¡ªa curse. In any case, Jargon, I will leave matters in your hand for the time being¡­ I believe it¡¯s past midnight already. The Federation is probably fast asleep across the hyper lane, too, I wager¡­ get some shuteye when you get the chance.¡± ¡°Captain, if something does happen, should I¡ª¡± ¡°Leave me the hell alone and let me get some sleep? Yes,¡± Jung states flatly ¡°I might be getting in age but I¡¯ll beat the shit out of anyone who dares disturbs me. Whatever happens, I advise you to act on intuition, Captain Jargon.¡± And without letting Jargon get another word in, Jung leaves the bridge area. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
JUNG¡¯S CABIN
It¡¯s rather unfortunate that Jean had to leave to command another ship, but frankly, it is for the best. Jung can¡¯t afford to have all his talented lieutenants on the Wulfhere. Jung thought about reassigning Jargon, too, but he quickly decided against it: the culture of the Wulfhere is simply far too different from any other pirate ship he¡¯s been on. Jung does not doubt that relocating Jargon would make the man cause ruckus in some way or another; leaving him here in the Wulfhere would be ideal. It is almost one in the morning when the intercom on Jung¡¯s dusty desk starts ringing. Jung, who has been laying on his bed tosses and turns, hoping his interrupter would bug off. But, unfortunately for Jung, the caller is persistent. Perhaps a little too persistent for their own good; a death wish, perhaps? The intercom continues to antagonize the Wulf for at least another minute before the tired old fellow lets out an angry sigh as he heaves himself up from the bed. Whoever is bothering Jung must¡¯ve not got the memo from Jargon to leave him in peace. But when Jung peers at the caller ID, he is rather surprised that the bugger is from a different ship, not the Wulfhere. Jung¡¯s tense body relaxes as it means he won¡¯t have to scold any knuckleheads for interrupting this comforting moment. But, who in their right mind would call him this late at night? Relief quickly gives way to skepticism as he swiftly presses the intercom button to answer this increasing urgency. Upon hearing the familiar voice of Jean, Jung quietly sinks into his dust-layered chair. ¡°Ah¡­ you finally answered, Jung,¡± Jung turns his head to the intercom¡¯s small video screen at a smiling Jean ¡°I didn¡¯t wake you up, did I? I almost figured I would have to call the bridge, directly¡­¡± ¡°I couldn¡¯t sleep even if I wanted to,¡± Jung snorts ¡°you calling this late certainly did not help either, so¡ªdid you need something? It¡¯s only been a few days since we separated, are you homesick already? Want to nag me to be put back in the Wulfhere?¡± Jung asks, but Jean only shakes her head no. ¡°I¡¯m surprised you¡¯re not asleep already.¡± ¡°Well, I think I found myself in the same boat¡­ I couldn¡¯t sleep, so I figured I¡¯d bother you for a quick talk¡­ cap¡¯n, how long do you think this will last? This whole veil, I mean¡­ I keep assuring the men that everything will be fine, but they¡¯re getting increasingly reckless.¡± Well¡­ it¡¯s to be expected, Jung thinks, we are completely dwarfed in numbers ¡ªand Li has taken most of the fleet to counter a threat in their rear¡ªif Jung still didn¡¯t know any better he would have thought that she is seeking to improve her position in the Year 217 Mafia¡­ or even worst yet, take advantage of the situation in L¨¹beck and sell out the Mafia to the Federation. Jung can only imagine that most of the lieutenants left behind in Velksland feel the same way: are they not, in some way or another, being used as a sacrifice for Li to achieve ulterior motives? Jean calling his name makes the sleepish Jung yawn unexpectedly, ¡°I wish I could give a reliable answer, Jean. I believe the Madame should¡¯ve come back by now¡­ and yet, we have no word from L¨¹beck, I take it?¡± When Jung looks back at Jean she seems to ponder the question before shaking her head. ¡°Not so much as a peep. You don¡¯t think the Federation has been jamming us, have you¡­?¡± ¡°No,¡± Jung responds ¡°because if they were, in all good chances we would not be communicating like this right now. From Li¡¯s perspective¡ªor even Simon¡¯s, I¡¯d say¡ªsending a transmission could lead to a trap¡ªit could even be intercepted by the Federation. The same could also be said if we shot something to L¨¹beck, as well. That could also be risky if they so much as decrypted it.¡± ¡°That leaves us in quite the predicament¡­¡± Jean muses as she scratches her head ¡°the only option we have is waiting for the Castelforte in some way or another, I suppose?¡± Jung merely stares at his dark ceiling, unsure of how to answer. Jung cannot help but feel they are overthinking their situation. Would it hurt to send a few transmissions to L¨¹beck for status updates at Valspon? Truthfully, there is no telling if Li is even alive or not. ¡°I will give it by tomorrow to send a transmission to L¨¹beck,¡± Jung states after a spell of silence ¡°if nothing else, it should give reassurance. Perhaps it might pose a risk, but it¡¯s a risk I¡¯m willing to take if it means we are not twiddling our thumbs in pitch darkness.¡± ¡°And if Li fails in her mission¡­?¡± Jean inquires. ¡°We shall pray that it should not come to that; lest we also receive a Federation transmission in Brunsb¨¹ttel.¡± ¡°Cap¡¯n¡­ I feel like you are putting too much faith in Li. She¡¯s only human¡ªto successfully ward off the invasion at Valspon¡­¡± Jean trails off with furrowed eyes. ¡°You could be right,¡± Jung says dryly ¡°all of this could be for naught. But we don¡¯t have any other choice. Even if Li survives and comes back¡ªthere¡¯s no telling if it will make a difference. It could be Abassi all over again.¡± ¡°Cap¡¯n¡­¡± ¡°The Wulfhere might respect me¡ªthey would unquestionably drag themselves through the nine circles of Hell if I asked them to do it. But I can¡¯t say the same for the fleet. They are technically Li and the Don¡¯s men¡ªand who knows what that maniac will ask of me? Will the fleet follow me into the depths of hell, or will they falter in the face of overwhelming odds?¡± Jung laments with his elbow on the desk, propping up his chin. When his gaze falls on the video screen he only sees a heartfelt smile on Jean. ¡°Have a little more confidence, Jung. You¡¯re a legend from beyond the grave¡ªmany would kill to be welcomed back into the ranks of the Mafia if they were presented with the opportunity. I think it¡¯s wonderful that Li has left you in charge of the decoy fleet rather than turn us away.¡± ¡°If anyone was in my shoes, I think they would beat the shit out of anyone who tried to drag them back into this hot mess,¡± Jung snorts. Jean only rolls her eyes with a look of disapproval. ¡°Well¡­ I won¡¯t deny it would¡¯ve been nice living our peaceful life a little longer¡­¡± Jean looks off-screen as she leans back into her chair. ¡°But it can¡¯t be helped, can it?¡± ¡°Jean¡­ you didn¡¯t have to come with me, you know. You could¡¯ve just stayed behind with Frau,¡± the old Wulf remarks, but Jean scoffs and shakes her head. ¡°It¡¯s more or less my responsibility to look after you, you know? I have to make sure you don¡¯t do anything too reckless. I¡¯ve been with you for how many years now?¡± ¡°Are you trying to get me all sentimental now? I¡¯m fragile at this age, you know.¡± To Jung, Jean has been present in his life after Fa¡¯s death¡ªbut she had always kept her distance. It¡¯s like what Jean said back at the farmstead¡ªshe knew it was hopeless to compete with a dead love. And yet, she stuck with him for nearly twenty years like a loyal dog. Even after he met Frau, Jean continued to be by his side. Jung can only wonder what could compel her to emotionally drag herself in the mud for Jung. It¡¯s a question that the old Wulf may very well take to his grave. ¡°I have the right to torture you every now and then,¡± Jean says trying to stifle a giggle. ¡°Well¡­ I guess you got your just dessert, now then¡­¡± Jung gets up for a stretch ¡°was there anything else you wanted to torture me with, Jean?¡± He asks as he looks back at the clock: almost close to 1:30 AM. The dark-haired woman shakes her head. ¡°I think getting the chance to talk to you was what I needed to get some sleep,¡± Jean replies ¡°thanks for everything. I mean¡­¡± she pauses with a slight blush ¡°thanks for sitting it out with me for a chance to talk.¡± ¡°It¡¯s always been nice speaking to you too, Jean, you know I love ya,¡± Jung says with a grin. Jung¡¯s eyes dart around and she rubs her neck. ¡°C-cap¡¯n¡­¡± she stammers ¡°are you trying to get me emotional? You¡¯re lucky I¡¯m not over there, or else I¡¯d strangle you to death,¡± the threat invokes a grin plastered on Jung¡¯s face. ¡°I suppose I do torture you enough as-is¡­ well, take care then, Jean. I will speak to you again in the morning when I get the chance. The longer we are in this decoy, the more difficult it will be when the Federation does inevitably take action,¡± with a nod from Jean Jung hangs up the intercom and drags his feet over to the bed. Hopefully this time, Jung ponders as he gives up the fight with his increasingly heavy eyelids, I shall not be interrupted. Chapter 60: Memories of Toscana | The Prideful Wulf Growls A horrible dream jolts Jung out of his slumber. But it is not the calming atmosphere he awakes to¡ªrather, it seems, he has jumped from one nightmare to another. Rather than silence, he is greeted by a blaring alarm that drowns out any thoughts Jung may have. A siren so loud and so recognizable it brings him dread. Abassi. Jung springs from the bed and realizes that the intercom has also been going off, but Jung pays no attention to it. It would be faster if he simply went to the bridge instead¡ªstaying here and answering it would only be listening to pure panic. Jung slips on his shoes and heads out into the corridor lit by the flashing orange-tint siren. This can¡¯t be happening, this has to be another dream, Jung¡¯s thoughts scream at him, this could only mean one thing and one thing only: the Federation has made its move¡ªor worse yet they have discovered Li¡¯s ploy.The narrow corridor is longer than Jung remembers. Jung finds himself still groggy and lightheaded from getting up so quickly. He can only afford to limp along the mechanical walls carefully¡ª And the Wulfhere rocks back and forth rather violently, catching Jung off-guard and throwing him to the cold, orange-hued floor. With a loud grunt, Jung springs back to his feet and reaches the end of the corridor, and climbs up the ladder steps. Upon reaching the top Jung activates a switch that slides open the hatch connecting to his commander¡¯s platform on theWulfhere bridge. With another bout of gruffs, Jung pulls himself out of the open door and gets on his feet to examine the situation. His bridge crew scrambles around like headless chickens, barking others at one another or yelling into headsets. It is, however, the main monitor that catches Jung¡¯s eye¡ªone that makes his eyes widen with terror, and induces shortness of breath. With each refresh of the monitor, several blocks representing none other than Federation military squadrons move further into the Rouen corridor¡ªright towards Jung. ¡°This can¡¯t be happening¡­¡± Jung utters¡ªbut it seems that because of the wailing siren he is unable to hear himself, let alone his thoughts. ¡°What the hell is going on?!¡± Jung exclaims slamming a balled fist on the railing ¡°¡ªand turn off the alarm already!¡± Jung turns to see Jargon panicky making his way up the flight of stairs, and takes several gasps of breath before he starts speaking. ¡°We stumbled upon a couple of shuttles not too long ago¡­ it was at our furthest warning line¡ªmaybe just right outside its parameter¡­ of course, the captain of the ship that spotted it told us it was nothing to worry about¡ªhe would make quick work of it before it could escalate¡­¡± Jargon¡¯s eyes furrow and he smacks himself on the side of the face, ¡°of course¡ªthat¡¯s not how it played out at all. The ship captain¡¯s system jammer malfunctioned¡ªthey couldn¡¯t stop the shuttles from sending a rather weak signal back to the armada¡­¡± Jung simply could not believe a word he was hearing. But he has to accept it¡ªhe has no choice to be in denial when the monitor behind Jargon shows damning evidence of the consequences. ¡°The messages¡­¡± Jung raises his head ¡°do they know the Madame isn¡¯t here¡­?¡± He stares intently at Jargon, who covers his head in shame. He says nothing at first¡ªbut then nods. Jung crashes into his chair and deflates with an exhaustive sigh. ¡°L¨¹beck¡­ have you already sent a message back to Simon? We need to let them know that hell has been unleashed.¡± ¡°Before you came up¡ªI did. But I don¡¯t know if it will make a difference now. It could take a while before they even get back to us¡ªand who knows how long we will need to hold out for,¡± Jargon cranes his neck to look at the monitor¡ª¡±a meager fleet numbering less than four hundred ships¡­ even if the Scarface came back in time¡­ I best think we won¡¯t survive this, captain¡­ and that¡¯s just assuming the Scarface survived her battle at Valspon.¡± ¡°Have faith in Li,¡± Jung growls ¡°she will make it in time¡ªI promise you that. She has to.¡± She has to! The Federation blips were getting dangerously closer to their first parameter line. It won¡¯t be long before the two fleets clash. Interestingly, though, it seems several contingents are noticeably further than its host¡ªtoo far ahead to be considered a vanguard and too distant to be relieved in combat. Jung points to this stray vanguard, ¡°this formation doesn¡¯t seem to be acting in tandem with the rest of the fleet¡ªso long as we eliminate them first,¡± Jung peers closer at the identification codes of the stray Federation vanguard ¡°¡ªan Ruthenian force, perfect,¡± Jung remarks with a devilish smile ¡°anyway, so long as we readily get rid of them, the Federation will find it difficult to form a beachhead in the asteroid belt. How are our defenses there looking, anyway?¡± ¡°Well¡­ from what I could tell, they¡¯re more or less spread out¡­ did you have a strategy in mind, captain?¡± Jargon asks, but before Jung can smile and give an answer, a young man from down below interrupts him. ¡°What is it now?¡± Jung demands, and the young man flinches. ¡°S-sorry, cap¡¯n! T-the Don has been messaging us,¡± the orange-haired lad says with a fist salute. Perfect, just the man I oh so wanted to speak to, Jung curses as he makes his way to the communication console. On its monitor is the weary-looking Don, intermediately tapping his shoulder. ¡°Explain this lovely shit parade to me, Wulfy boy,¡± Zhui says in his forceful cheerful tone ¡°I love twiddling my thumbs over here, being the last to know what the fuck is going on at the front. Isn¡¯t it lovely?¡± ¡°Don¡­¡± Jung addresses straightening up ¡°the Federation has made their move.¡± Zhui energetically bobbles his head up and down in a matter-of-factly way ¡°oh! Lovely, isn¡¯t that simply lovely?¡± He turns off-screen to repeat it to someone else, and looks back and slams a fist down on his console ¡°and, oh! Do tell me how this might¡¯ve possibly happened! I¡¯m dying ¡ªactually on death¡¯s door just wanting to know.¡± ¡°They slipped in a couple of reconnaissance shuttles, and¡­¡± Jargon didn¡¯t even get to finish when the Don slams his console yet again. ¡°The Wulfhere, was it?¡± The Don scratches his ugly, deformed chin that makes Jung and the others want to gag¡ªbut they stifle themselves to avoid bringing attention to it. ¡°You should all be grateful that my ungratefuldaughter has continued to protect this bucket of bolts for¡­ gosh! I don¡¯t even know how many years,¡± Zhui throws his hands in the air ¡°one year too many!¡± The Don scoffs in such a way that it makes Jung ball his fists a little too hard. To lay down their lives for this despicable man¡ªthe fact that he, Jung, has been brought out of retirement for this wretched demon¡­ it¡¯s a fact that brings Jung great pain. If only Simon and Li were here¡­ ¡°So,¡± the Don leans into his camera making his horribly disfigured face all the more caricaturing ¡°my message to you? You will make up for this disaster and I have full faith you will do just that¡ªbut under no circumstances will we retreat, Jung¡­ there will be no safety net this time¡­ what was that battle you always languished over?¡± The burly man strokes his beard ¡°Abassi, was it not?¡± Zhui leans in closer ¡°do me well, Jung¡ªit would be certainly no less than tragic if we had a repeat of that hell. ¡°We will hold our ground until my wonderful daughter arrives¡ª¡± Zhui continues, ¡°and if anyone even thinks about turning tail in the face of ourlovely guests,¡± Zhui trails off and sits back in his chair as his trained eyes wander off. Zhui gestures for someone off-screen to prepare him a cigar, ¡°well¡­ Jung¡ªmy dear Wulfy boy¡­ let¡¯s just say that I will not be tolerating cowardice, even from you,¡± Zhui sits back in his chair with eyes trained on the screen. He takes the cigar from his servant and takes one long inhale from it, ¡°it would be better to die against the Federation boys than be killed by one of your own, don¡¯t you agree?¡± Zhui asks as a shapeless cloud of purplish nicotine escapes his lips ¡°I leave it all to you, Jung¡­ this is your chance to redeem yourself for all those you failed at Abassi, is it not?¡± An eye twitch from Jung ¡°¡ªa chance to recover that hurtful pride that Li inflicted on you,¡± Zhui takes another long whiff from his cigar before obscuring the screen with a veil of toxin ¡°I guess that¡¯s all from thishandsome rogue, cha-cha for now, everyone!¡± With that forceful enthusiasm, Zhui waves the smoke away. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Jung¡ªalong with the others present¡ªslams a fist into his chest in typical Mafia fashion¡ªin Jung¡¯s case perhaps a little too hurting for what it¡¯s worth. The transmission then cuts to static. Hurtful pride, Jung scoffs, I¡¯ll show the bastard what the hurtful pride of a Wulf can do. And with that said, Jung and Jargon step away from the communications console¡ªbut stop when the operator notions for Jung to come back. ¡°What does the Don want now?¡±Jung asks, but the operator shakes his head. ¡°It¡¯s a message from the Shiva,¡± the young man responds. If Jung remembers correctly, that was one of the Montepuez escort ships¡ªwhat could they possibly want from Jung? ¡°It¡¯s also on an encrypted private line.¡± Jung crosses his arms, and motions for Jargon to leave him be, ¡°meaning?¡± The operator shakes his head, unsure of the situation himself, ¡°if you¡¯re sending Jargon away, do you want me to give you some privacy as well?¡± He pauses ¡°do you know how to use this thing?¡± ¡°I wasn¡¯t born yesterday, kid¡ªI might be an old dog but I¡¯ve worked my way around these things in my time,¡± Jung snorts ¡°but yes¡ªit¡¯ll only be for a moment, so no need to be overly protective of your baby.¡± When it¡¯s clear that both Jargon and the operator are out of ear-sight, Jung answers the transmission call from the Shiva. Jung is rather taken back to see a wild woman with flowing dark hair and feline eyes. She certainly does not look familiar to the old Wulf and could hardly be younger than Jean at best. ¡°And you are¡­?¡± ¡°Beatrice,¡± the Shiva captain says wryly ¡°I take it you are alone, Jung?¡± ¡°It would seem so¡­¡± Jung frowns wondering which way this could be heading ¡°is there a reason for this private line? The time we squander here is crucial for the battle.¡± Beatrice looks off-camera for only a moment, as if cautious of listeners on her side. ¡°For a sage such as yourself, you seem to be missing the bigger picture.¡± Jung rests a hand on the intercom dials, ¡°and for something who looks like they could be my daughter, you¡¯re acting far too cryptic for your age,¡± he retorts. ¡°I¡¯ve been listening in on the Montepuez for a while now¡ªas has the other escort ship, the Kleifar,¡± Beatrice says. ¡°What a lovely and loyal henchwoman you are,¡± Jung notes wryly. Beatrice¡¯s stoicism is evident that she pays no mind to the remark. ¡°This battle will be a disaster, Jung,¡± before Jung can open his mouth to interject with another witty comment Beatrice continues ¡°we¡¯ll be shedding blood for absolutely no reason whatsoever. We all have sincere doubts that the Scarface will come¡ªor even arrive in the nick of time.¡± Jung looks up at the main monitor. Already the first signs of artillery barrages were commencing between the farthest parameter and the Ruthenian vanguard. As of yet, it doesn¡¯t seem like they are in trouble¡ªand that¡¯s a yet. Jung has a hunch now on where this is going, but he¡¯ll play Beatrice¡¯s little cryptic game. ¡°What are you getting at, Beatrice?¡± The woman cuts a sigh and brushes off her bangs in the way of her eyes, ¡°the Kleifar and I have contemplated a third way out of this shit parade¡ªwe will send some men over to the Montepuez and hold the Don captive until he seeks peace with the Federation.¡± Well. Jung can¡¯t help but chuckle, ¡°kids you days¡­ back in my prime we would¡¯ve gone with our iron and put lead in between the eyes,¡± Jung¡¯s grin quickly disappears ¡°is that all to your romantic plan? Hold the big bad Donhostage until he changes his mind? How exactly do I play into your little mutiny?¡± ¡°We seek your support¡ªor, to put it another way¡ªyour blessing. If only so that Zhui doesn¡¯t expect a thing. Hell, you send some of your ships over so that his loyalists don¡¯t try to play rescue,¡± Beatrice replies. Jung brings a chair over to the monitor and scoots into the screen. ¡°And what if you fail to change his mind?¡± Jung inquires with a furrowed brow. Beatrice¡¯s gaze wanders off for what seems like minutes before looking back at Jung. ¡°We¡¯ll just kill him¡ªand having you on our side will make things easier¡ª we¡¯ll merely relinquish command over to you,¡± Beatrice asserts. And with that, Jung leans back into his seat, scratching his whiskered chin. For some reason or another, Jung can only compliment Beatrice and the others for their youthfulness. He finds it rather bold of them to come to him of all people¡ªalthough he and Zhui have had bad blood between them as far as back the late ¡®90s, seeking to rid the man much like they have rid Araki never truly crossed his mind. Truth be told¡ªand thinking about it now is kind of funny¡ªbut he owes a lot to Zhui. He gave him a purpose in life when the aftermath of Fa¡¯s death had taken everything away from him. And even after Jung walked out of the Mafia scot-free the Don almost uncharacteristically let him live a good and honest life¡ªat least until a month ago, anyway. Though, this could be because of persuasion on Simon or even Kamon¡¯s part. Even without either in mind, it¡¯s even likely that Zhui simply showed him some compassion and one less obstacle to his reign of power. Not to mention, if Jung were to backstab Zhui here, it would undoubtedly break his longstanding friendship with Simon. The three of them have made a blood-oath in their youth¡ªin their teensy days under Araki. To go back on that now¡ªto break an oath of fraternity after so many years would be a tragic note for the history books. Would it solve their short-term problem? Perhaps. Would it compel Li¡ªor even Simon to stand down if Beatrice¡¯s conspiracy fails and they are forced to play their hand and kill Zhui? Perhaps. Jung can only imagine that Zhui¡¯s death will induce Simon to fight to the last man¡ªZhui, hypothetically, might be out of the picture¡­ but there¡¯s no telling what sort of sweet lies that alluring Kamon will whisper into Simon¡¯s ear. Jung shudders at the thought of whatever she might plan in this chaotic scenario. ¡°Beatrice,¡± Jung says getting up from his chair after a long spell of silence ¡°have you told anyone else of this plan? Aside from me¡ªand the Kleifar,¡±Beatrice shakes her head. ¡°No¡ªwe were going to bring the other few escort ships into the fold¡­ but I just wanted your insurance first,¡± she replies dutifully. ¡°Keep it that way, Beatrice,¡± Jung says after a good standing stretch much to a surprised scoff from the screen ¡°I dislike the way the man as much as the next sensible person¡ªbut I owe my life to him. You may not know this, but we forged a brotherly bond in our days¡­ and perhaps that may have fizzled out between us, but do you truly believe this solution to a bloodbath will stop Li from resisting us¡ªor even Simon or Kamon?¡± Jung jeers ¡°there¡¯s no telling the Federation will even give us the time of day for negotiations¡ªkilling us would be easier for them¡ªtight corridor and meteor shower notwithstanding. We¡¯d merely be jumping from one hard place to another,¡± Jung puts a hand on the dial again, ¡°you just sit back there, stand gorgeous and be a wonderfully loyal henchwoman as you¡¯ve always been.¡± ¡°Are you out of your mind?!¡± Beatrice utters trying to keep her voice low ¡°are you going to let yourself be manipulated by the Don ¡ªand cast aside a hundred corpses to caress your hurtful pride?!¡± ¡°We¡¯ve fought all our life, love,¡± Jung smiles ¡°for about as long as you were barely wearing diapers. We fight¡ªand we hold out for Li¡ªand even if she doesn¡¯t come then we fight and go out in a blaze of glory. Do what you will, Beatrice¡ªI will not take sides in this little coup of yours.¡± Beatrice only looks agitated as Jung ends the transmission. ¡°What was that all about, Jung?¡± The operator inquires returning to the station, ¡°that was the Shiva captain¡­ was it not?¡± Jung merely pats him on the shoulder. ¡°Some things are better left not known, son¡± Jung remarks solemnly ¡°if you get any further transmission from the Shiva¡ª or a private line at all, it would be best to ignore it,¡± the orange-haired man nods obediently. As Jung passes through the rows of computer consoles towards the deck hosting his seat, he catches a sea of eyes that follow his every step. When he reaches the top deck, he takes a deep breath and turns to face the bridge crew. ¡°A broadcast to the whole fleet¡ªhell, broadcast it to the damn Federation dogs for all I care! Listen up you shit for brains! The battle has yet to unravel. Even now our brave comrades are battling it out against the advance Ruthenian vanguard¡ªif they desire a death-wish that earnestly with the Year 217 Mafia¡ªif they seek to avenge their fallen brethren at Abassi¡ªthen we shall give them a meaningful closure! To hell with the Scarface and the Don!¡ª the Wulfhere¡ªno,¡± Jung shakes his head and grins ¡°the Wulf der Ruthenia will finish what it failed to do all these years ago¡­¡± Jung fervently pumps a fist into the air ¡°¡ªand deliver the killing blow!¡± Chapter 61: Memories of Toscana | The Wulf that Lunges... In light of Jung¡¯s rousing declaration, the skirmish unfolding in the outer sections show promising progress for Jung¡¯s force. Reports flow in regarding the Ruthenian assaults being rebuffed time and again. For every ship that Jung might have lost, there are always a dozen Ruthenian ships destroyed or knocked out of action. And at first, Jung felt these losses were acceptable. But as the skirmish developed into a pitched battle, it dawns on Jung that replenishing his losses would become more difficult if he does not eliminate the Ruthenian threat soon enough. ¡°Cap¡¯n¡­ the Kafraiya is curious as to why we aren¡¯t utilizing more of our fleet?¡± The orange-haired communications operator asks. At the moment they are only using about fifty or so ships, which Jung uses as a spread-out screen within the asteroid field. As Jung looks on at the holographic table and the miniature polygonal ships, it feels less of a firefight and more of a deadly game of peeking in and out of cover to fire. Just offscreen on the Federation side is the tip of the armada fleet that encroaches slowly into the fray. It never ceases to be overwhelmingly menacing as more of it comes into view. ¡°Tell the Kafraiya that it¡¯s too early to bring the fleet into full force,¡± Jung replies ¡°he is doing an impressive job inflicting this much damage on the Ruthenian squadrons with only a fraction of their strength,¡± Jung leans over the table, and phases his hand over the area of the holographic map where the two fleets intersect the most ¡°it¡¯s too risky to bring in more ships with the nearby meteor shower going on¡ªtoo difficult too coordinate and maintain discipline. But as soon as that clears it¡¯s going to make it easier for the Ruthenians to advance¡ªnot to mention one less hurdle for the Federation host,¡± Jung states as he takes a step back from the holographic table, amazed at the Kafraiya¡¯s success¡ªand even more impressed at the Federation incompetence. It would be impossible to pinpoint how many ships were in the initial Ruthenian engagement but if Jung were to give a rough estimate there could have been close to one hundred thirty ships. Now, it seems after half an hour of fighting there might be around eighty left. All the while the colonial gains have been almost minimal until now¡ªand yet, to Jung¡¯s amazement, the Ruthenian commander doggedly whips his men to their death. Jung can only wonder if the Ruthenian command structure is staffed with inexperienced men. Perhaps Jung¡¯s declaration made them teeming with frenzy, an interesting byproduct if Jung says so himself. ¡°Captain Jung, we have been forwarded a message from the Kafraiya,¡± the orange-haired operator states. ¡°Oh? If they¡¯re asking how to proceed next with the Ruthenians, then I suggest they ask the enemy commander what to do,¡± Jung remarks but the lad shakes his head. ¡°Well¡­¡± he frowns ¡°to be more specific, it¡¯s actually an open broadcast from the enemy force they¡¯re engaging,¡± the lad says ¡°supposedly most of the ships out there received it¡­ but it¡¯s in Ruthenian, so most of them don¡¯t have a clue what their foe is blabbering about.¡± When Jung asks if there¡¯s a transcript for it, he is led to the communications station and presented a note written in syllables that Jung fails to understand at first¡ªbut Jung does recognize some of them, specifically the last bit of the message. And when Jung racks his brain enough to remember his Ruthenese he crumbles the paper and lets out a hearty laugh. ¡°Er¡­ what was the message about, cap¡¯n?¡± The communications operator asks as the two of them walk back to the flickering blue-tinted holographic table. ¡°Have you ever heard the idiom; it all sounds like Greek to me?¡± Jung asks his companion and the orange-haired young man thinks for a minute before shaking his head ¡°it¡¯s one of those dead idioms from before Terra¡¯s fascination with nuclear Armageddon¡­ anyway, the Ruthenian language has always been bizarre to me; most of the message was just a long-winded insult in some way or another. But the part that I understood was the last bit of it; Die, Wulf!¡± Jung exclaims with sarcasm. ¡°I¡­ see,¡± as Jung slaps him on the back. ¡°Now, I think it would be appropriate to send those nice gentlemen a message of my own.¡± ¡°And what would that be, cap¡¯n?¡± The young man asks. Jung smiles brightly. ¡°What do you think the Ruthenians hate more than anything, even someone more than me?¡± Before the lad can answer Jung snaps his fingers ¡°the Federation¡­ of course, send this to the Kafraiya and instruct him to broadcast it to the enemy fleet¡­¡± Jung pauses. What would be even fitting to add insult to injury? To send it back in broken Ruthenian, in broken Australian, or perhaps in Toscanese? So many choices, Jung thinks, but he nods his head upon coming up with an idea: ¡°Die, Federation scum!¡± Jung exclaims to which his companion and onlookers stare in disbelief ¡°¡ªjust like that. Oh, well, I suppose you could instruct the Kafraiya to add in a string of insults of his own, as well¡­¡± Jung rubs his whiskered chin in ponder. ¡°Do I even want to ask how we should send it? In what language, I mean,¡± the communications officer asks, exchanging glances with the others. ¡°Tell the blokes at the Kafraiya and the other ships to do their utmost best Straya impressions,¡± Jung says a little too smugly. ¡°Cap¡¯n¡­ I¡¯m having a creeping suspicion that you are not taking this battle seriously,¡± the lad remarks cautiously. ¡°What¡¯s your name, son?¡± Jung asks. Puzzled, the orange-haired operator rubs his neck after glancing over at the others. ¡°Er¡­ it is Adrian, cap¡¯n,¡± an unprovoked slap on the back followed by anoomph nearly sees the man crash over the strategic table. ¡°There¡¯s more to fights than just lugging artillery at each other, son,¡± Jung says ¡°you gotta play with your prey a little¡ªget them worked up in the worst ways possible¡ªget in their head, play mind games with them!¡± Jung says too cracking a grin. ¡°I think I get what you mean, cap¡­¡± Adrian groans rubbing his shoulder ¡°I think it¡¯s a little ridiculous¡­ but I¡¯ll instruct the guys at the front to go wild with imagination!¡± Adrian starts to run off but stops when Jung tells him to wait. ¡°I will also need you to relay to the front-line ships to pull back a little,¡± Jung shifts his eyes to a sole digital ship that represents the Montepuez ¡°but I want it to be explicitly stated as a tactical maneuver ¡ªand don¡¯t give me that look like you don¡¯t know what I mean!¡± Jung says ¡°with this escalation, I need to draw in the Ruthenian squadrons to eliminate them easier¡­¡± Jung leans onto the table ¡°the longer we allow them to linger in the open the easier the likelihood of the Federation linking up with them. And if that happens, then it¡¯s all over. ¡°We wouldn¡¯t last very long against Federation nuclear missiles. They¡¯ll tear those asteroids apart with ease,¡± Jung looks up at Jargon, Adrian, and the few other Mafia lieutenants present ¡°we should be counting our luck that it¡¯s not Metropol squadrons we are engaging first. From the looks of it, these colonial ones still stick to their naval guns¡­ so long as the Federation doesn¡¯t link up with them, they won¡¯t be able to complement each other¡¯s weaknesses. ¡°Once the Straya insults gets to their heads, I want all ships to tactically maneuver back into a semicircular formation. Rather or not they assume vertical or horizontal positions I¡¯ll leave that up to the men to decide,¡± Jung strokes his unkempt chin ¡°it might be necessary to shoo some more men to the reorganized positions. I think Jean was holding on to most of them, correct?¡± Adrian frowns in ponder as his eyes race around the room ¡°Jean? Hm, I think so. You want me to pass that on to her, too?¡± Adrian pauses and sneaks a grin in ¡°¡ªyou want me to hand the news on a platter to the Federation as well?¡± Jung only rolls his eyes at this wise guy¡¯s attempt at sarcasm. ¡°I¡¯d rather they would appreciate the tip¡ªnow then, get out of my sight until you have something interesting to share,¡± and with that Adrian jolts off to set the plans in motion. Jung¡¯s gaze falls to the Federation side of the holographic map¡ªand another wave of goosebumps claw away at him as the formations now take up almost one whole portion of the strategic table. Even if Jung is to successfully knock the Ruthenians out of action, how will he handle the mammoth that lies before him? Assuming that Jung does not suffer considerable losses in his ploy with the colonial force, he would have something less than three hundred ships to handle a force whose numbers are just shy of one thousand seven hundred. And there¡¯s no telling just how many ships Li has. At best, he may be able to pull off the trick twice with far lesser success¡ªinflict serious losses on the Federation and perhaps tactically maneuver to the Velksland Clusters¡ªwith or without theDon. On the other hand, if his men fail to neutralize the Ruthenians in time it¡¯s essentially handing over the beachhead on a silver platter. And then, Jung can¡¯t help but think it all just comes back to Li. If Li were here, what would she do in this scenario? Defy her father and retreat, or stand her ground in the asteroid belt and wither down the enormous Federation beast? Ships are manned by flesh and blood with self-deterministic values after all; inflict enough losses and there¡¯s no telling if mutinies will brew among their ranks. But as Jung¡¯s gaze shifts to the polygonal pirate ships, it¡¯s safe to say that the same could be said for him. Even as the skirmish started Beatrice offered a third alternative out of this mess. What¡¯s to say someone won¡¯t grow some balls and chance it against him? As Jung sighs and rubs his temples, there really is only one thing he can do; sit and wait for the battle to unfold. There are a plethora of ways this can go but Jung will gain nothing out of it bar a migraine. Fed up with staring at the holographic display, Jung leaves the rest to Jargon and shuffles over to his commander¡¯s chair.
Jung waits with bated breath for the Ruthenian reaction to the Strayainsult. A part of him believes it could be wishful thinking, but he knows better than anyone that the Ruthenians are never the ones to back down from insults. He observes the main bridge monitor intently for any signs of major movement¡ªwhich there is a distinct lack of to Jung¡¯s disappointment. The Kafraiya and her front-line ships move slower in their tactical maneuverthan Jung expected, but this is likely the Kafraiya captain playing caution. Maybe I¡¯m wrong? Jung thinks, perhaps I overestimated the Ruthenian commander¡¯s incompetence¡­ maybe they did wise up while I was in hibernation. On the bright side, at least the tactical maneuver has been wonderfully executed all things considered. Jung can only imagine the stress the ship crews must be under the artillery barrages between fleets. Just as Jung ponders about using a bigger bait for his plan, he hears a commotion from down below. Getting up from his seat the old Wulf leans over to get a view but instead the developments on the main monitor catches his eye; finally, the Ruthenians were capitalizing on the tactical maneuver and moving in¡ªand they were moving in faster than Jung anticipated. ¡°Order the Kafraiya captain to give more leeway,¡± Jung shouts from his balcony down to Adrian who¡ªlike others nearby¡ªgives him puzzling looks, ¡°and send a message to Jean to send a few more ships to reinforce wherever needed.¡± ¡°Message from the Kafraiya!¡± Adrian shouts after delivering Jung¡¯s orders, Jung gives the nod to read it ¡°it reads as follows; er¡­¡± Adrian owlishly blinks as he clears his throat ¡°notwithstanding the string of insults, he asks; ¡®and with that said, I hope you know what the hell you¡¯re doing, you senile dog,¡¯end message,¡± Adrian finishes and looks up to Jung who only replies with a series of snorts. ¡°What a good sport! Assuming it is who I think it is from the old days¡­ the captain used to be critical of everything I did. But I¡¯ll be damned if he didn¡¯t execute my orders well.¡± As the clock ticks on, Jung watches in near-awe as the Ruthenian squadrons greedily flood into the gaping positions seemingly abandoned by their pirate adversities. ¡°Perhaps it worked out too well?¡± Jung utters, ¡°I was contemplating using the Wulfhere as a hefty bait, but it seems the Ruthenian officers finally succumbed to their temptation.¡± As the Ruthenians continue to ¡°push back¡± the Mafia forces, Jung notes that the colonial formations now seem more disorganized than before. Namely, they struggle to maneuver from one asteroid to another. On occasion, Jung lets out a sensible chuckle as careless colonial ships crash into asteroids here and there. In one instance, the Wulfhere is lucky to get real-time footage of a small section of colonial ships poorly coordinate and accidentally ram into each other during a firefight. ¡°Those fools! I almost feel sorry for them,¡± Jargon says ¡°but while this is good and all¡­ if they take too many losses, won¡¯t they run the risk of falling back, captain? Or even staying put and waiting out for the fleet to arrive¡± Jung looks at the ever-imposing Federation fleet, now at least a light-year second away or possibly even less than that. Jung doubts that the Ruthenians would want their sorry asses to be relieved. But at the same time it¡¯s all the more likely they might throw away their Federal grudges just this once. ¡°Adrian! Tell the Kafraiya to continue tactically maneuvering backward,¡± Jung states to the continued puzzlement of the crew ¡°actually¡­ I think I have an even better idea,¡± Jung strides toward Adrian¡¯s communication console and rips the headphones from the orange-haired adolescent. It¡¯s a ploy that might sit uncomfortably with the Don¡ª no, it will agitate the man. But Jung has a limited amount of options. He can¡¯t afford to let the Ruthenians act cowardly now. He needs them to continue acting irrationally so that he can avoid getting steamrolled by the combined Federation fleets. Jung sets the communication array to most open frequencies¡ªwhich includes broadcasts to the enemy fleet. Jung clears his throat a couple of times, but before turning the radio on the old Wulf looks back at a curious Jargon¡ªand grins foolishly. ¡°Whatever may happen, Jargon, I will take full responsibility for my actions¡­ there will be a purpose to this madness. ¡°To all ships! This is Jung Lee of the Wulfhere¡­¡± the old Wulf loudly clears his throat with urgency ¡°you have all fought the good fight¡­ but I mustbegrudgingly issue an order to retreat! We will regroup at the Clusters and hold out for the Madame!¡± Just as Jung is about to end the transmission he shifts gears and sets the frequency to Mafia ships only ¡°don¡¯t let them get any funny ideas! I want you to harass those morons until they flush themselves out in an attempt to foolishly take advantage of our ¡®disorganized retreat¡¯! Maintain and widen the semicircular formations if possible¡ªlet¡¯s not turn this illusion into the real deal. ¡°If the colonials don¡¯t take your bait¡ªthen keep pelting them until they do. And once they do, let¡¯s split these shit for brains and annihilate them!For the Mafia!¡± Murmurs of disbelief give way to reluctant ayes before Jung cuts the transmission. There must have been a spell of shock cast over theWulfhere, as the weight of realization sets in among the crew. Jung wants to abandon the asteroid belt to the Federation. ¡°Jung¡­ you¡¯re certain you aren¡¯t going senile on me already? Should I relieve you and send you off to the doc?¡± Jargon worriedly asks¡ªwithout so much as sarcasm in his voice Jung wishes the man is joking. It hurts Jung knowing he is getting old. ¡°I¡¯ve gone mad years ago, my friend,¡± Jung says. The old Wulf turns to the Wulfhere pilot, ¡°now¡­ we need to play the part of our little charade. I want you to turn this ship around¡ªyes, around ¡ªand proceed at full knots. The other ships will take notice and do much the same.¡± This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. ¡°You sound awfully confident that this won¡¯t turn into a full-blown retreat,¡± Jargon starts, but is briefly cut off by Adrian. ¡°A transmission from the Don¡ª¡± the orange-haired adolescent stammers. ¡°Frankly, I don¡¯t want to hear it,¡± Jung says with a sigh ¡°in fact I want you to block any further communications with the man. Zhui is quick to jump to assumptions. And as I said, I will take responsibility for this later when this is all done. But now is not the way to waste even a second.¡± Jung¡¯s prediction is right on the mark as most ships imitate Jung and turn around to ¡°retreat¡± under the cover fire provided by the few ships that act as rearguards. And the colonial squadrons¡ªor what is left of them¡ªare none the wiser. Their hesitation gone, greed once again takes over and they sally out from the safety of the occupied asteroid belt to pursue the Mafia. As a result of Jung¡¯s plan to broaden their semicircular formations, the Ruthenian squadrons begin to peter out into several different trajectories. One of which also heads for Jung¡¯s fleet. And seeing as its allies are distracted chasing after the other Mafia detachments, it¡¯s just what Jung needs to lunge into action. Jung orders the fleet to turn around and engage the stray squadron chasing them. The battle that follows proves to be easier than Jung expects. Being more or less the sparingly-used reserves, his ships have enjoyed a by-large good amount of rest and more than enough munitions and fuel to outmaneuver and overpower the Ruthenians¡ªwho Jung has no doubt have not been given time to recuperate or let alone rearm and refuel. ¡°To call this a battle would be tragic,¡± Jung remarks to Jargon ¡°it¡¯s akin to a massacre¡­ I too would feel sorry for them, Jargon¡­ but you have to remember that each and every sailor knew what they were getting themselves into when they signed up with their navies¡± Jung says wistfully ¡°I would feel more sympathetic for these poor souls being led by overzealous commanders than anything else.¡± ¡°What you¡¯re doing is no different,¡± Jargon interjects ¡°all these reckless maneuvers¡­ I would say that is like you, but we haven¡¯t so much as gone through the likes of this battle before.¡± Jung scratches his patchy chin, ¡°perhaps¡­ I am merely one incompetent leader capitalizing on another¡¯s inability to make rational decisions. That¡¯s all warfare is, really. One slip-up by one fellow in charge is all it takes to snowball into a decisive defeat,¡± Jung looks his friend square in the eyes ¡°let¡¯s hope that I am not setting an example for the books.¡± The two of them observe in solemn silence the mammoth Federation armada that now covers half of the bridge¡¯s main display. The majority of its force is now more or less securing the outer parameter of the vacant asteroid belt. It won¡¯t be long now that Jung must face the main event of the show. Without a second more to spare, Jung orders his fleet to march to the relief of the Mafia fleet that has gone North¡ªand is rather surprised to find that the detachment there has gone from a feign retreat to an authentic one. As a result, Jung is appalled that their strength has been cut to pieces. ¡°Jean¡­¡± Jung mutters to himself ¡°what the hell is Jean doing?!¡± It¡¯s the realization that Jean is in that fleet that causes his apprehension to turn into worry. Worry that gives him the sweats. ¡°Contact Jean¡¯s ship, I need to know¡­¡± Adrian tries addressing Jean¡¯s ship to no avail, to the old Wulf¡¯s dismay. The orange-haired lad slips the headphones off and shakes his head. ¡°No luck, cap¡¯n, the Ruthenians must be jamming them pretty hard¡ª agh!¡±Adrian suddenly finds himself grappled by the collar by a seething Wulf. ¡°You damn well keep trying, son, if you knew what¡¯s best for you,¡± he utters in Adrian¡¯s terrified face ¡°if anything were to happen to Jean¡­¡± ¡°Captain!¡± Jargon plants a firm hand on Jung¡¯s shoulder. Jung finally realizes that his attitude has gotten the best of him and sets Adrian down. ¡°Don¡¯t take it out on the kid¡ªhe hasn¡¯t done anything wrong!¡± Jargon retorts jabbing Jung on the chest ¡°you were the one going on about responsibility¡ªif the miss dies¡­ you would have nobody to blame but yourself!¡± Jung balls his fists in anger. He wouldn¡¯t admit it, of course, but Jargon is correct. All the old Wulf can afford to do now is sit and wait for the fighting to end here. Jung does not have to wait around for long, however. Jung¡¯s relief force catches the ill-prepared Ruthenian force off-guard, and after a brief yet intense massacre there remains nothing of colonial force but metal carcasses and burnt flesh. In a way, the feint-turned-real route worked out for Jung a little too well. But the victory means nothing to Jung if his beloved friend isn¡¯t alive. Jung quickly makes his way back to Adrian and the communications station and rips the headphones from the orange-haired adolescent before he has a chance to react. ¡°C-cap¡¯n!¡± Adrian stammers, having been nearly pushed out of his seat in the process. ¡°Jean¡¯s ship, which one is she on?¡± Jung asks, but snorts ¡°never mind¡ªI¡¯ll just broadcast to the whole damn lot!¡­ This is Jung Lee to you good for nothing shit brains¡­¡± Jung¡¯s husk voice trails off unable to process what to say next. ¡°Give me a run-down on who¡¯s in command over there¡­ is captain Jean¡­?¡± Another hesitant trail off as he prays to whoever celestial deity might be tuning in to his mortal plea. A second later, an incoming ring prompts Jung to answer it without hesitation¡ªand he sighs like never before, slumping into the chair feeling at peace with himself. ¡°Geez, cap¡¯n¡­ you¡¯re getting too old and you¡¯re becoming too much of a worry-wart!¡± The soprano voice of Jean does wonders to inject Jung with new life. ¡°I feel like this is the most you¡¯ve shown any care for me in the past couple years¡ª¡± Jung cuts her off with a hoarse cough. He is rather glad that the video screen isn¡¯t on and his back is turned to his men. ¡°I should¡¯ve asked you to stick close to the Wulfhere¡ª you going off on your own is going to do wonders to my heart, sweetheart,¡± Jung hears what he believes is a yelp, but it¡¯s rather nosy on his end so he makes nothing of it. ¡°With that said, I want you to reorganize your men as best as you can and take possession of the decoy fleet¡­ and await my orders after that. Take care, Jean,¡± and with that Jung cuts the transmission. He helps Adrian up and plants the headphones firmly in the lad¡¯s hands. ¡°Sorry about that, kid¡ªcontact the Kafraiya and let them know that we¡¯ve eliminated the colonial force on our end,¡± Jung asks Adrian as the orange-haired operator slips on his headset ¡°I need to know how he is doing on his part.¡± Leaving Adrian behind the old Wulf heads to the strategic table for a more immediate update on the situation. At a glance, it seems the Kafraiya¡¯scontingent had less difficulty compared to Jean¡¯s force. Unfortunately for Jung, however, it seems that the colonial remnants there grew some bigger shit-brains and started retracing their steps into the asteroid belt. They seeme battered to hell, so he has to give the Kafraiya captain some credit for accomplishing what he could against a numerical foe. Which Jung finds a good thing since marching over to that battlefield would cost Jung precious time. And just one brief look at the Rouen asteroid belt is sufficient enough to tell the tired Wulf that he no longer has that commodity. His hour-glass has all but dried up. And with not so much of a sliver of news about Li, he can only accept the possibility that the tables will now be flipped. If only he had more time. If only the Federation advance was slower. If only he eliminated the Ruthenian squadrons quicker. When Adrian gets back to Jung, it is more or less reinforcing the vague idea that Jung has already gathered: the Ruthenians have executed a rearguard action in pursuit of a rendezvous with their allies now nestling in the asteroid field. In all likelihood, the Kafraiya captain will be unable to neutralize the stubborn colonial force but insists that the force is battered enough that it will be rendered useless in any tactful manner. And that is more than good enough for Jung. Deadweight for the Federation to worry about¡ªbut Jung wouldn¡¯t put it past them to use them as cannon fodder to save their own. ¡°Adrian, just to be sure¡­ there still is no news from L¨¹beck or even theCastelforte?¡± Jung says tapping the glowy surface of the holographic table that flickers with each touch. To the Wulf¡¯s dismay, Adrian shakes his head. ¡°No such luck¡­ only the static void,¡± Jung slams a fist down on the table with a thud that makes Adrian flinch. Two hundred fifty ships against a fleet that numbers one thousand seven hundred. No more reserves, no more petty tricks to wrap his opponent around. If only he had more time! Jung has accomplished so much, and yet his mountain of problems stands as tall as ever. Whatever action Jung will take next will be the decisive blow. Retreat at this point would be impossible¡ªboth forces are locked into the asteroid belt. Even if he manages to slip through the Federation barrages, he won¡¯t survive the wrath of the Don. ¡°The only option I have left is to go out in a blaze of glory, huh?¡± Jung remarks somberly. Jargon and Adrian look at him curiously before exchanging glances. At that point, the image of Frau crosses his mind. Her radiating smile is enough to give Jung a glimmer of hope in an otherwise hopeless situation. If only he left behind Jean. If only he didn¡¯t let his wounded pride get in the way of things. He could go out in this blaze of glory with no regrets. Looking back on it, Jung wonders why he didn¡¯t just refuse the offer. He shouldn¡¯t have let himself get talked into it¡ªmaybe he has gotten too sentimental for his good; a sentiment that has cost him a peaceful life if only a little longer. Even if the Federation won here, it¡¯s not like they would go after him specifically. That¡¯s something that could take years before judgment shows up on his doorstep. But Jung can¡¯t dwell on his regrets forever. This is the path he chose, and he will reach the end and resolve this once and for all. ¡°Adrian,¡± Jung says with a sigh causing the youth to flinch, ¡°I need Jean to prepare the decoy fleet for use. Inform her to redeploy them on my left flank¡ªI¡¯m going to use them as part of a push into the Federation center,¡± Both Adrian and Jargon owlishly blink, unsure of what the Wulf captain means. ¡°We only have one shot at this,¡± Jung continues ¡°I¡¯m going to punch through the Federation ships, seek out their capital ship and knock it out of action. I believe this is the best chance we have at forcing them to withdrawal¡­¡± Jung clears his throat before continuing ¡°¡ªor at least bide more time for the Madame Scarface to arrive¡­ failing that, it will make theDon come to his senses and give up Velksland, in the process letting the Mafia live to fight for another day. Though for all I know. L¨¹beck could very well be in Federation hands.¡± But perhaps attacking the enemy¡¯s flagship will not be enough. There will be, of course, other leading officers in the fleet who will assume command. All that matters is Jung maximizing their dead body count and compelling their commanders into a retreat. With uncertainty weighing on his shoulders, Jung pushes his cheeks and rubs his wet forehead. ¡°I believe it is better to make the first move, then sit and react to whatever the Metropol fleet will do, either way, and I hate to say it; but we are essentially screwed. This is no longer about running on borrowed time or holding out for a force that may come¡­ I still have hope she will arrive¡­ it might be fantasy, but perhaps her arrival will scare the Federation off,¡± Jung muses as he continues to rub his scratchy goatee. ¡°If either of you has better ideas¡­ then now is the time to give me a piece of your mind.¡± When it is evident neither has anything to say, Jung sighs with disappointment. ¡°Very well¡ªplease pass my order to Jean¡ªand tell theKafraiya that it may do as it sees fit¡ªto act in tandem with the decoy fleet or not is up to his leisure.¡± Adrian excuses himself with the customary salute and leaves Jung and Jargon alone at the table. ¡°Jargon, I¡¯m going to use this opportunity to give you the chance of leaving the Wulfhere,¡± Jung states, staring at the traffic of Federation ships maneuvering in the asteroid fields. ¡°Er, Jung¡­?¡± ¡°This is a suicide mission, Jargon. The Wulfhere will be at the helm; you¡¯re hardly over thirty, aren¡¯t you?¡± Jung rests a hand on the man¡¯s shoulder ¡°even if the Wulfhere were to be destroyed, so long as you survive I could die knowing that you could rebuild her¡ªand crew her with a younger generation of pups. Hell, you could put all of this behind you and find a nice broad to settle down with.¡± ¡°You¡¯re being ridiculous, captain¡± Jargon replies forcefully ¡°the Wulfhere is the Wulfhere¡­ getting a new ship and crew wouldn¡¯t be the same. It¡¯d be like getting a new dog after your old one dies¡­¡± ¡°And like an aging sick dog, this bucket of bolts has had its fair share of fond and tragic memories. A new Wulfhere means you can make new memories with it and not be chained down with bitter memories of old husks like me.¡± ¡°Listen to yourself, you sound like a deranged old man,¡± Jargon remarks bitterly ¡°if you wanted to act like a proper wise captain to someone, you should be doing it to someone like Adrian¡­¡± Jung chuckles and nods his head, ¡°that¡¯s right, you could take Adrian with you. I don¡¯t like the idea of sending kids off to their deaths to cement my status as a legend. The two of you could work together to¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m not leaving, and neither will he,¡± Jargon says facing Jung ¡°we¡¯re all in this together.¡± Jung only shakes his head, and with another round of shoulder pats he smiles ¡°real stubborn kid aren¡¯t you? I wouldn¡¯t grace you the title of Wulf der Rouen for nothing.¡±
With the launch of the decoy fleet, as well as Kafraiya¡¯s decision to act in tandem with it, the seesaw for the asteroid belt begins. Jung stalls for time¡ªtime needed for the Federation to lower their guard and respond to this seemingly newfound pirate strength. According to Adrian, there is lots of confused radio chatter about the reports that what they saw hours earlier were decoy balloons, and shouts up and the chain of command that they were deceived into fighting the original fighting strength of the Mafia. In truth, it is merely Jung¡¯s take on Li¡¯s initial ploy; some authentic ships were slipped into the charade, giving the impression that the whole assaulting force is real. Adding to the chaos in the southern portion of the asteroid belt where the Kafraiya crashes against local Federation forces there. And while that sector heats up, the Wulfhere jumps out of its meteorite bedrock and leads the charge into the Federation center. To Jung¡¯s surprise, the center practically folds on itself, creating a salient that only increases the further the Wulfhere¡¯s ships advance. Jung must¡¯ve overestimated the Federation¡¯s organization in the asteroid belt right then and there. If he had waited to initiate the assault any later he does not doubt that the Federation would¡¯ve dug in with disciplined firing lines. ¡°So long as we stick close those Feddie dogs, they will be powerless to unleash any barrage unless they want a nuclear holocaust on their hands¡ªpilot! Bring us to a higher elevation, we must seek out the capital ship as soon as possible¡­¡± Jung stares at the rather bold salient brought about by the Federation¡¯s center collapse ¡°this rift won¡¯t remain open forever.¡± The further the salient goes, the tougher opposition gets and the fewer asteroids they can use as cover. And yet there was still no sign of the Federation¡¯s capital ship. ¡°It has to be around here somewhere,¡± Jung remarks standing over the table. His gaze jumps from one polygonal ship to another present in the warpath of the Wulfhere to no avail. ¡°Could it be even further back? No¡­¡± a click of his tongue ¡°perhaps my gambit failed and it was in one of the flanks? Dammit!¡± He laments slamming a fist on the pale blue-screened table. Was it all in vain? Was Beatrice correct about him after all? Was he merely tossing aside the lives of so many men and women for nothing, doomed to repeat his failures at Abassi? No matter how far Jung goes, he will never achieve that glory that slipped from his fingers at that battlefield so many years ago. It¡¯s as though once again the silver lining he reaches out for fades away into nothingness. Eventually this salient will fail, and the Mafia will be done for. Even if Li were to arrive now, he¡¯d be leaving her with a troublesome situation that not even she could claw her way out of. He has let everyone down. There¡¯s no way he could look Jean, Simon, and Frau, and everyone else in the eyes after this is all over¡ªmuch less in the afterlife. ¡°Enemy flagship spotted! The Trinidad¡­ six hundred kilometers below us!¡± Did he hear that right? No, there must be some mistake. Jung couldn¡¯t believe it for even a second. He looks up at the holographic map, eyes darting from one polygonal ship to the other¡ª And with a gasp of air, it¡¯s there, sure enough. The majestic Trinidadsurrounded by its equally gallant screen of smaller digitized ships. This is the moment he longed for. The very crucial moment he would make up for all these years ago, practically dancing in the palm of his hand. ¡°Order all gunners to focus their fire on the Trinidad!¡± Jung exclaims ¡°this is it! We¡¯ve done it!¡± He reels around to face the bridge crew ¡°this is the moment we¡¯ve all waited for! The chance to avenge our comrades at Abassi!¡± With a clenched fist Jung pounds his chest ¡°with this single strike, theWulfhere has reasserted itself as the scourge of the Federation!¡± Out of the corner of his eye, a lone individual panicky jolts from his seat and then suddenly crashes backward¡ªbut Jung is too euphoric to pay any mind to it. ¡°Glory to the Mafia! Glory to the Wulfhere!¡± Jung shouts, and the bridge chants it back. But it¡¯s a moment spent short-lived. In the midst of the chant, the individual from before frantically waves his arms over his head, eyes wide with terror. It sounds like he¡¯s screaming something¡ªbut Jung can¡¯t make it out over the men paying their respects. It¡¯s only when the others quiet down, does it strike Jung like lightning what the frantic is screaming. The others catch on too, but in their moment of triumph, it is too late to change their fate. Torpedo! Torpedo! Torpedo coming in hot from below! Blindsided by his evidential glory, the last thoughts that cross Jung¡¯s mind are the three loves throughout his life: Fa, Frau, Jean. Chapter 62: Memories of Toscana | ...And the Wayside Cosmic Hero Pitch darkness. Jung shuffles forward¡ªthen to the sides. Then forward again, and retracing his steps¡ªall increasingly to no avail. It doesn¡¯t matter which direction he goes for how long. Ultimately, he is merely wasting his time. Wasting time. Time. If Jung remembers correctly, at some time he worried about not having enough time. What is the worry about then? Why is he here? What is here exactly? It¡¯s a question that Jung contemplates as he continues shuffling into the blanket of uncertainty. And as he raises his eyes, Jung notices a faint twinkle¡ªmuch like the flicker of a lighter. The closer Jung gets to the source, the less of a pause in between the twinkling light¡ªthen blinding rays of light forces him to shield his eyes. Even that feels like not enough as the illumination is remarkably overbearing. Never before has Jung ever experienced a phenomenon¡ªif one wanted to call it like that¡ªbefore. With each passing second, the fierce light emits brighter. But with all things in life, it comes to an end. Or rather, the lighting fades, albeit gradually. Jung waits for his eyes to adjust to the archway-shaped light. Awe-struck, Jung unconditionally walks towards the light. The closer the tired Wulf gets to the entrance, the more Jung experiences a sense of great ease. All worries he may have¡ªswept away in a single stroke of relief. But the sight of a single individual¡ªtheir back to Jung¡ªmakes the middle-aged stop dead in his tracks. Jung once again waits for his eyes to readjust to the luminescent glow from beyond the archway. And once the individual turns to face Jung, the old Wulf is taken back with confusion¡ªwith grief. Jung can¡¯t believe it. There¡¯s no way she could be here. After all these years chasing after her shadow¡ªand his pursuit has brought him here of all places. It¡¯s in that single moment that the fifty-year-old Jung Lee, the scourge of the Federation, the Wulf der Ruthenia, the legend who has died once and lived twice¡ªrealizes what he has always dreaded in his twilight years: Jung Lee has met his end. Fa. There¡¯s no mistaking that it¡¯s her. With those emerald eyes, shoulder-length raven hair, and ever-youthful skin that leaves Jung speechless ¡°Fa¡­Fa Yuriy?!¡± Jung stammers over each word, all the while shaking his head ¡°are my decrepit eyes deceiving me like it has done time and time again?¡± Jung takes a few steps closer. The more he looks at her, the more he is taken in by her beauty. It¡¯s as if looking at a living memory that has been capsuled until this very moment¡ª thirty years. Thirty years Jung waited to see her face again¡ªand for just as long Jung feels as though he has forgotten her appearance. The longer Jung gazes at the young woman, the more it seems her radiance is enough to overpower what sorrow he may hold. Happiness. Profound happiness. The happiest the Wulf has ever been in his life. At that moment, nothing else matters to the worn-down Wulf. Not the Wulfhere, not Li, not reciprocating Jean¡¯s feelings, or even returning home to Frau. And yet, something nags at him. Something tugging at his heart that this isn¡¯t right. Many distant voices that call his name¡ªbut it is merely ambiance that Jung ignores. Fa does not move from her spot. She merely glances into the snow-white luminance behind her and looks back at Jung with those breathtaking emerald eyes of hers. ¡°Jung¡­ Lee,¡± she utters with a wry smile. To hear her voice¡ªto hear her utter his name is enough to give Jung a heartache, ¡°it has been some time, hasn¡¯t it?¡± Her ever-soft tone gives Jung trouble clearing his increasingly dry throat. By now, he has blocked out the faint voices from behind him. The only thing that matters to the old Wulf now is Fa. ¡°It¡¯s been more than just that, Fa!¡± Jung stammers ¡°it¡¯s been near¡ªit¡¯s been nearly thirty years,¡± Jung, in his moment of weakness, is powerless to let water flood his eyes. ¡°I¡¯ve missed you so much, Fa. I tried to accept what I held so dearly was now lost. I tried to move on and live a life in your place¡­ for both of our sakes,¡± Jung says in between chokes of words, shaking his head ¡°I never got to say a proper goodbye. I never got to apologize for what happened to you. In my blind hatred, I had dozens of men killed¡­ boys that might¡¯ve done nothing wrong, men who could¡¯ve grown up and lived out lives of their own. I did it all for your sake¡ªto give myself closure. And yet¡­ and yet¡­¡± Jung¡¯s legs tremble and he falls to his knees. Droplets of tears drip to his leggings. ¡°And yet, when that failed, I decided to plunge into the fires of battle. I hoped to be reunited with you once more. Time and time again my efforts were rebuffed by fate¡­¡± with a tearful scoff, Jung looks up at Fa ¡°fate is more confusing than at first glance, isn¡¯t it, Fa?¡± Fa, whose eyes have been averted to the ground, looks back into the glowing archway once more. After a few moments she fixates Jung¡¯s watery gaze, ¡°there was nothing you could do. I have and will always forgive you, Jung. It hurts me more than anything that you have carried that weight with you after all these years¡­¡± Fa trails off as she breaks off her look to take in the abyss behind the broken Wulf. ¡°And now your journey has brought you here¡­ and that makes me happy we could meet again, Jung¡­ it really does,¡± Fa clears her throat ¡°however¡­¡± ¡°However?¡± Jung mimics as he wipes his watery eyes with his sleeve. Fa turns to face partway at the illuminating door that separates their worlds. ¡°Where are you intending to go now, Jung Lee?¡± Fa asks, to which Jung ponders in bafflement. Jung is already here¡ªthe purgatory between the living and dead, where else could he go? Jung slowly gets to his knees with a series of grunts. ¡°I want to follow you into the afterlife, Fa,¡± the grizzled Wulf utters without hesitation with each step closer to the vibrant archway ¡°I want to be with you again¡­ I want to make up for all these lost years I robbed you of. There are many things I want to share with you, so many stories I wish to make you cry and laugh at. I want to by your side for an eternity, until even our spirits vanish. I have tried everything to achieve happiness¡­ and the only way I can pursue that genuineness is with you.¡± Fa does not reply. She closes her eyes and lets out a heavy sigh. She looks back at Jung not with a wry smile, but with a sense of sadness¡ªan expression that further pulls at Jung¡¯s heart. She opens her mouth to speak but says nothing. Her gaze drops to the floor, darting the surface of the eternal darkness as if searching for an answer. During the spell of silence that ensues, Fa looks up at Wulf and approaches the broken man with careful steps. When she stands before him, Fa slowly extends an arm and strokes the side of Jung¡¯s face¡ªwarm, ever so warm to the touch. Without thinking, Jung places a hand on top of hers, and their hands interlock. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ I¡¯m sorry for growing old without you, Fa,¡± Jung says with remorse, fresh tears stream from his eyes, and wets Fa¡¯s caressing hand. Fa shakes her head and embraces Jung, she buries her head into his chest and tightens her grip around him. And yet¡ªshe does not cry. ¡°Do you hear it, Jung Lee?¡± Fa finally utters ¡±the voices that call for you¡­ people that care deeply for you, and many more who would weep at your departure,¡± Fa lifts her head to interlock eyes with Jung ¡°it is your decision¡ªand yours alone¡ªto decide where you want to go. Is this what you want? To leave things unfinished in the realm of the living when so many lives are at stake?¡± For once, Jung looks behind him, and like an inevitable crash against fierce waves, he hears them in their entirely¡ªa legion of voices calling for his return¡ªa return to the living. The pleas get increasingly louder and ring in his ears. To ignore them would be akin to abandoning all those who care and respect Jung. Jung would be leaving behind those that need him in their greatest time of need. If he went on his way and turned his back on them now, it would be no more different than walking away from his pirate life all these years ago. It¡¯d be merely dumpling his responsibilities on others. And on the other hand, Jung would have to return to a cruel and unforgiving world that has time and again robbed him of an honest life. It would be no more different than leaving Fa on that fateful day all those years ago to pursue the mutiny against captain Araki. Upon looking back at Fa, she nods her head and lets go of the old Wulf.Jung doesn¡¯t protest and silently watches as she takes a few backstops away from Jung. Now that she is back to standing against the archway, Jung finds the radiating illumination from the entrance makes her as angelic as before. Fa shows off another smile¡ª rather pensive. She gently places an open-palmed hand on Jung¡¯s chest. ¡°I¡¯ve always loved you, Jung Lee¡­ and will always continue to love you. You have the choice to return and make peace while you still can, a choice I was not given,¡± Fa¡¯s hand caresses Jung¡¯s chest, namely in the place above his heart. Jung raises one hand to wrap around hers, ¡°go and do what you must, Jung Lee¡­ I will wait here to guide you to realms beyond when the time comes¡­¡± and with that, Fa slips through Jung¡¯s grasp and walks once more through the door. Without once stopping or looking back, her figure disappears and the blinding light overcomes him. ¡¸Live for a little longer, Jung Lee. My patience for you is vast as the cosmos themselves.¡¹
The familiar darkness. It feels as though Jung is weightless, almost floating unlike before. The shouts are closer¡ªmore intimate, but he has a hard time making out what the source is saying. Captain! Wake up! Captain! Please¡­ don¡¯t leave us now. Not now of all times¡­ captain! In response, Jung attempts to move around¡ªbut finds it rather fruitless. Even looking around or opening his eyes seems to be an impossible task. Has he wounded up in the afterlife after all? Is this a fleeting moment before dying? As frustrating as it is, Jung hears more of that oddly familiar voice¡ªor rather, numerous voices. Ones that shout over each other. Jung wishes he could show these knuckleheads some respect, but his efforts to regain a keen awareness remain in vain. ¡°We have to leave the body behind, captain Jargon! His body will only slow us down!¡± Jargon¡­ it¡¯s a name that the old Wulf slowly starts to remember. The maverick that could easily whip the equally eccentric motley crew into a frenzy than even he was ever capable of. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare address me with such a title! Jung¡­ the captain is not dead yet. I just know it¡­ Jung is still alive, I know it! I would rather die than leave his body behind!¡± ¡°His breathing and pulse have stopped! Don¡¯t you see?! You have to accept it and leave him behind! He¡¯s been dead ever since we wrapped his body up¡ªit¡¯s meaningless now! We¡¯re just wasting time in leaving the Wulfhere!¡± My breathing and heart have stopped? A baffled Jung ponders as he tries to make sense of what the hell is happening. Why would we abandon the Wulfhere? Soon after Jung hears something akin to loud firecrackers¡ªand then his weight is thrown around. Before Jung even knows it, there is sheer coldness underneath him¡ªcold to the touch that makes him wish for Fa¡¯s heartfelt warmth. After that, he hears even more yelling around him. Some are closer, but others are far too faint to hear. Whatever went off makes it increasingly difficult as Jung finds himself fading in and out of consciousness. A sensation as though his upper body is being lifted slightly up as if being cradled. ¡°Captain!¡­ I know you can hear me! Dammit!¡± Intense pain resonates across his face¡ªwhich Jung believes is a slap. If Jung didn¡¯t know any better, he would believe that not even his corpse would be able to rest in peace at a time like this. As much as he was a killer in life, the poor handling of corpses is something that he would never wish upon even his enemies. ¡°Captain¡­! Wake up! For the love of God, don¡¯t do this to me!¡± Sudden wetness splashes on his face¡ªand then several more follow suit. ¡°Our moment was so close¡­ our time to avenge those at Abassi will all be in vain¡­! I can¡¯t¡­ I can¡¯t fill these goddamn shoes of yours just yet¡­!¡± ¡°That¡¯s more than enough, captain Jargon! If you won¡¯t make the decision, then I will temporarily assume command and order the fleet to withdrawal to L¨¹beck. This battle is lost¡ªwithout leadership the fleet will be shredded. The Don be damned! I¡¯ve all but lost faith in the Scarface coming. The Trinidad is too screened to approach it now¡­ we should preserve as much of the fleet as we can¡ªit¡¯s what Jung would¡¯ve wanted.¡± It¡¯s what I would want? Jung wonders in his head, what is it that I want exactly? As that contemplation weighs in Jung¡¯s mind, the dark curtains over his eyes slowly open. Jung revels in a blinding light that takes a few moments for his blurry eyesight to adjust to. When his vision stabilizes, he is rather shocked to find himself seemingly not in purgatory¡ªbut the interior of the Wulfhere. Sitting over him is a teary-eyed and distraught Jargon glaring deterministically at the pirate lieutenant standing over them. When the lieutenant¡¯s gaze shifts over to Jung, his face immediately goes pale. ¡°C-Captain¡­?!¡± The pirate lieutenant utters, unable to believe what he¡¯s seeing. ¡°I¡­¡± Jung whispers dryly, owlishly blinking ¡°e-evaded death¡ªyet again? No matter how many times I try¡­ I just can¡¯t rest in peace, can I?¡± Jargon¡¯s head slowly turns to face Jung with a mixture of horror, shock, and a greater amount of bafflement than the bystander. Jargon¡¯s jaw practically drops as he is held in disbelief at what to say. Although Jung now experiences the pain of extravagant magnitude, he bears with it to afford a scoff ¡°you look like¡­ you have seen a ghost, Jargon.¡± ¡°Captain!¡± Jargon exclaims ¡°this is no laughing matter, you¡­!¡± Jargon tearfully exclaims trying not to choke on his words. Jung swings an arm out toward the nearby railing and tries to bring himself to his feet, ¡°captain, you ought to rest! You can¡¯t go push your body too much! You got nearly shredded by shrapnel!¡± ¡°This old dog will trot it off,¡± Jung painfully snorts as he limps down the corridor ¡°if I do not succumb to my wounds here, then I will be a few years off dying from space radiation. That aside, has news of my supposed death gotten out?¡± He asks, glancing back as the other two follow him. ¡°No,¡± Jargon states, still recovering from disbelief ¡°I was going to relay the news once¡ª¡± ¡°Good! Then keep it that way¡± Jung interjects with each painful step along the way ¡°as long as panic has not swept the fleet, then we shall be fine.¡± ¡°What do you intend to do, captain?¡± Jargon asks as they pass by groups of people who glance back in astonishment. Some even stop in their tracks and follow the trio back to the bridge. ¡°The battle? What happened during the battle? Has there been an order to retreat?¡± Jung asks shooting a look at the lieutenant that was prepared to assume the responsibility ¡°I assume Jargon took temporary command while I was out?¡± ¡°After the first torpedo hit, the Wulfhere stumbled back, and it¡¯s likely we would¡¯ve been finished off if not for the meteor shower intensifying,¡± Jargon replies, trying to assist Jung in walking. Jung, however, would not appreciate the help and brushes off his attempts. A meteor shower, huh? Jung wonders as he enters the bridge, would it be superstitious to believe that this was the work of Fa¡ªor even God? Fate continues to bewilder the partially mummified Jung. ¡°If we wanted to get out of this¡ªthis will likely be our last window of opportunity¡ªthe meteor shower pummeled both fleets, and I was prepared to use emergency shuttles to escape the Wulfhere¡ª¡± ¡°A captain does not abandon his ship, Jargon¡± Jung interjects harshly ¡°and I would normally say its crew wouldn¡¯t either¡­¡± Jung stops and turns to face the line of followers behind the trio ¡°if any of you still desire to escape the Wulfhere, I will allow it. So long as it is not me who flees, the Don wouldn¡¯t care less about lowly henchmen saving face. And if any of you take advantage of this chaos he will not notice it in any case,¡± he scans the terrified faces of the men and women before him ¡°you all deserve to live¡­ the Wulfhere is merely a vessel, and if it goes down then all I desire is it to live on in spirit,¡± Jargon clears his throat and nods to the group of people. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Some hesitate, others cast doubt on themselves. But it only takes a few moments for one to break off¡ªthen two and then a dozen. And with that, Jung unleashes a sigh of relief. ¡°Your beauty sleep earlier must have made you soften up,¡± the lieutenant remarks wryly as he glances back at the ones jolting down the corridor. ¡°Beauty sleep,¡± Jung repeats with a pained snort ¡°when you have a brush of death, it makes you more sentimental for the young ones putting their necks out for nothing. It is better to let young cowards live old and let the bold, brave idiots die young in their stead.¡± As Jung¡¯s presence becomes more apparent in the bridge, he gets increasingly agitated at the constant gasps from confused onlookers as he makes his way up the flight of stairs with a series of pained grunts toward his command deck. Upon reaching the top Jung leans over the railing to examine the bridge below. There are far fewer bridge crew than there were before. A fact that Jung finds disheartening but owes to the fact he had more or less dismissed a dozen just moments ago. He can only imagine, however, that much more likely died in the torpedo blast earlier. The aftermath of which has by now been hastily repaired by the ship¡¯s internal auto-repair mechanisms¡ªwith a special touch by human elements, if he has to guess. ¡°Adrian¡­¡± Jung whispers ¡°I don¡¯t see him¡ªwhere is he?¡± He turns to ask Jargon, trying to stifle his worry. Jargon thinks for a moment and sighs. ¡°He¡¯s in critical condition¡ªbut the docs said he¡¯ll live,¡± Jargon remarks ¡°it¡¯s a miracle the communications system is still operable¡ªand I had pulled something technical enough, someone named Marco to handle it.¡± The fact that Adrian could very well nearly die and be easily replaced while his precious machine manages to remain unscathed remains disturbing to Jung. There is nothing about it that Jung finds a miracle. If anything it is concerning evidence that humans are vulnerable to almost everything in life. ¡°That is a relief to hear¡­ as soon as the boy recovers, I want him off this ship,¡± Jung remarks. Jargon doesn¡¯t appear to protest and silently nods in approval. Just as Jargon mentioned earlier, the meteor shower has expanded most considerably in size and ferocity. During and after Jung¡¯s near-death state, combat appears to have subsided, and only brief skirmishes occur here and there among the lines. Amazingly, the Kafraiya has managed to enjoy some form of success. As does Jean¡ªand finding out she is still alive and well gives Jung a spell of relief. Given the overwhelming size of the Federation armada, their movements adapting to the situation shows have been overwhelmingly awkward at best. Either a perfect time to strike¡ªor as Jargon suggested, the best window of opportunity to retreat. As Jung peers closer at the main monitor¡ªoccasionally flickering and giving out due to hardware damage¡ªit becomes apparent from what movement the Federation gives that they are not keen on withdrawing just yet. It could be they are reorganizing and biding their time for the meteor shower to subside. ¡°Captain, the Kafraiya sends his regards about your wellbeing¡ªand asks what are your orders?¡± Marco asks ¡°should I inform the fleet to retreat to the Cluster colonies?¡± Jung leans onto the railing and meticulously taps the metal bars. Jung is interested in the idea of retreating¡ªbut thinking back on the Don¡¯s threat and for the safety of his men, confronting the Federation in this predicament is the lesser of two evils. ¡°No,¡± Jung remarks laconically ¡°I want everyone to press forward¡ªseeing as we can¡¯t do so much as harass. We can only help for two outcomes¡ªthe arrival of Li, or the Federation gets fed up and retreats with their tail between their legs¡ª¡± Jung points outwardly at the flickering monitor, namely at the t-block representing the Trinidad ¡°so long as we eliminate their flagship, it will give us hope.¡± ¡°Captain¡­¡± Jargon utters in disbelief ¡°it¡¯s delusional to latch onto that fantasy idea of her coming to the rescue at this point. She¡¯s not coming.¡± ¡°After being deprived of oxygen for so long and experiencing death, I¡¯m as delusional as they come,¡± Jung snorts laconically. With no further comment, Marco relays the straightforward plan to the rest of the fleet. As Jung may expect, there is some form of reluctance as ships scramble around during combat despite the meteor showers testing the collective will of the fleet¡¯s pilots. In some cases there are close calls of large chunks of meteorites hitting their ship¡ªbut the Wulfhere¡¯s gunners never failed in blasting asteroids into smaller chunks for the pilot to maneuver past. And like waves crashing against vast cliffs, the Federation sternly holds their ground amid the fierce meteor shower and progressive pirate assaults. But slowly but surely, their determination was increasingly coming short¡ªand it seems like some of their squadron commanders are feeling brave enough to counterattack. ¡°Confirms from Kafraiya about successfully managing to lure the southern flank away from the battle-lines further into the asteroid belt,¡± Marco states flatly. ¡°Good,¡± Jung nods ¡°and what of Jean? She appears to have trouble with¡­¡± Jung stops to abruptly hunch over with one hand clenching his chest and coughs violently into the hand he clasps over his mouth¡ªit is entirely covered in dripping crimson red. He balls the fist and slams it on the railing.Lend me more time, Fa! Jung begs in his mind, I can¡¯t let my moment of triumph end like this! ¡°Captain?¡± Jargon asks concernedly as he takes a few steps closer to theWulf ¡°it¡¯s not too late to take a moment to rest¡­¡± ¡°The moment I sit down to relax, my soul will slip away¡± Jung retorts as he opens and closes his bloodied hand ¡°Marco, order some ships on our right to reinforce Jean¡¯s positions¡­ the rest will push through the Trinidad¡¯s screens.¡± With an aye, Marco relays the orders. Jung grips the railing with both hairs with bated breath, observing as Jean¡¯s force wage a brave tug of war with her adversaries, and observes the straggler Federation squadron in his rear undeterred by the Kafraiya¡¯s attempts at baiting them away. ¡°If it were not for the asteroids blocking their lines,¡± Jargon surmises ¡°we could very well be at the risk of encirclement.¡± There is but a mere gap in the asteroid current that Jung decides to lunge from. Leaving behind some ships to distract the rear Federation squadron, Junge gives the order to pour through their window of opportunity. The rather uncharacteristically bunched-up Federation ships Jung encounters easily give away to confused maneuvers¡ªan eventual rout of the Federation ships followed by the Wulfhere mercilessly cutting them down. ¡°Ignore the stragglers!¡± Jung says with a hoarse voice after another jerking cough into his hand ¡°full knots ahead!¡± Before long, the Trinidad and it¡¯s enormous screen are visible to the naked eye. The same situation as before: being right outside the immediate meteor shower, it would be impossible to use asteroids as barriers against missile barrages. By now, they were four hundred kilometers away from the Trinidad. ¡°Captain! We shouldn¡¯t get so close! This will be suicide!¡± Jargon worriedly objects. ¡°So long as we get through the initial barrage¡­ we can close distance! It¡¯s all or nothing now!¡± Jung utters heatedly. Three hundred fifty kilometers, they just need to push further! ¡°Multiple heat signatures detected! Federation firing line has launched its first salvos!¡± The radar technician shouts from below. Jung grits his teeth and hugs the railing for dear life. ¡°Evasive maneuvers! Brace for impact!¡± Jung shouts to the bridge. The rather abrupt jolts of the ship throws Jung to the floor and knocks a grunt out of him. With another series of pained grunts and a spit of blood oozing from the edge of his mouth, Jung works his way up the railing and witnesses in time the horror of dozens of his ships getting annihilated in one fell swoop. Already some other ships were changing trajectory and retreating towards Jean¡¯s fleet. ¡°Stay on target!¡± Jung shouts to Marco ¡°tell the goddamn ships to stay on the path! The more we splinter out¡ª¡± ¡°Federation secondary and tertiary lines are moving up!¡± The radio technician utters panicky. Two hundred kilometers. If the follow-up firing lines assemble fast enough, it¡¯s all over. ¡°All remaining ships!¡± Jung declares ¡°focus fire on the Trinidad and shift trajectories toward Jean¡¯s fleet!¡± To Jung¡¯s bewilderment, the Federation firing lines are thrown into disarray¡ªone after another the ships maneuver poorly, causing some to ram into each other or be thrown off-course. But whatever the case, it is the opportunity Jung needs. ¡°Fire!¡± Jung roars as he slams a fist down on the railing ¡°the Trinidad, the screen ships¡­ it doesn¡¯t matter! Fire and reel around!¡± Jung¡¯s daring fleet unleashes bursts of artillery salvos right as the pirate fleet penetrates further into the screen. The density of smoke from exploding ships and weapon platform discharges expands rapidly and envelops the two colliding fleets, thus obstructing the Wulfhere¡¯s sensors. The only thing Jung can do is pray¡ªpray that they cut through the Federation fleet in one piece and steer around without issue. Pray that they have hit one of their intended targets. As Jung hangs on for dear life amid all the reckless maneuvering, the toll it has on his body makes his coughing gets increasingly severe¡ªa fact that worries Jargon. The resurgence of extravagant pain numbs Jung¡¯s body as he nearly slumps against the railing¡¯s wall. ¡°Captain!¡± Jargon hurriedly rushes over to help his old Wulf ¡°hang in there, you bastard! You¡¯re pushing your body far too hard!¡± Rather than argue the point, Jung slowly nods his nod, accepting the fact that he has mere specks of time left in him. Jung clutches Jargon by the collar and pushes Jargon closer to him. ¡°Whatever happens,¡± Jung gasps ¡°¡ªyou are the captain now.¡± Jargon owlishly blinks with hesitation, and shakes his head ¡°captain, I¡ª¡± ¡°¡ªWulfhere has emerged from the smoke field,¡± the pilot announces below. All eyes turn to Marco, who presses the headphones against his ear with intense concentration. ¡°The Trinidad?¡± Jung asks with labored breaths, clasping onto both Jargon and the railing; his grips dig into both. ¡°Multiple confirmations of the Trinidad being hit¡­¡± Marco sternly states. His shoulders slump slightly, ¡°visuals are now on screen, all projectiles that hit the Trinidad over-penetrated,¡± Marco says with a hint of disappointment, reading off a transcript. Behind him, footage of the Trinidad shows it capsizing to a small degree¡ªbut it dawns on Jung that the flagship is stubbornly holding out. ¡°Damage to the Trinidad¡¯s engine appears to be critical, they¡¯re essentially sitting ducks¡ªcaptain Jung, your next move?¡± Jung lowers his head and attempts to sigh, being careful not to cause further strain on his chest. His eyelids feel increasingly heavy, and all Jung wishes to do is sleep. This battle has been taking its toll on not just his broken body, but his mental state as well. ¡°Turning around to finish off theTrinidad would be too costly, we would lose the momentum and give the Feds ample time to make up for their shortcomings¡­¡± Jung remarks weakly, trying to keep himself steady against the railing ¡°but the strike at the flagship wasn¡¯t all in vain¡­ not only did we cripple the flagship, but we also shredded a good number of screen ships¡­¡± Jung strokes his whiskered chin ¡°we shattered the idea of Federation invincibility,¡± Jung declares ¡°I¡¯ve outwitted a Federation force ten times my size¡ªnot many could say that, not even Li,¡± Jung says patting Jargon on the shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m getting a flurry of news from our rear ships,¡± Marco interjects from below, standing up abruptly and sending his chair clattering to the chair. Marco looks back at Jung with a pale voice, ¡°they say¡­¡± he mutters attempting to clear his throat ¡°they say there is an unidentifiable fleet of uncertain size rapidly approaching the battlefield.¡± From their rear? Has his worst fears come to fruition? Or perhaps it is his much-desired cavalry? Jung glances at Jargon and ponders his next move. Does Jung order all units to abandon their positions, or does he hold out a little more longer? Jung glares at Marco, who bats his eyes registering what he hears on the headset. Before Jung knows it, Marco¡¯s eyes sparkle lit up¡ªand then get teary. With a gaping mouth, he tries to form words and tries to clear his throat several times. Marco looks at the rest of the bridge crew and then exchanges looks with Jung. ¡°The Jaguar¡­ Hugh¡­ the Castelforte¡ªthe Madame Scarface,¡± he says wiping away his wet eyes and clears his throat again ¡°she¡­ she has returned!¡± And just like that, the bridge erupts in an emotional moment of celebration. And for Jung, it is as though crushing weight is lifted from his shoulders¡ªas though his part of playing Atlas is over. For this reason, his increasingly and yet straining effort in maintaining the pillar crashes down on him, resulting in a state of exhaustiveness Jung has never felt before. But even with that said, Jung feels at peace. Tranquility he believed he had achieved leaving for his newfound married love. Only this time, Jung feels a greater sense of genuine reflecting the accomplishments he pulled off. ¡°Jargon¡­ no, captain Jargon¡ª¡± Jung says patting the man on the shoulder ¡°¡ªgo down there and join them in this joyous occasion,¡± Jung says calmly. Jargon looks into Jung¡¯s eyes with reluctance¡ªbut the young Wulf der Rouen merely nods and jolts down the flight of stairs, leaving the battered old Wulf alone. Jung, with great pain, clutches his chest as he limps over to his leather brown chair and sits down with utmost caution. The foamy seating does much to slip Jung into a greater sense of ease notwithstanding the enormous pain he has suffered through. But it is pain he endured for his men¡ªsuffering he had been willing to take if it meant satiating his long-bruised pride. And in Jung¡¯s eyes, he had done just that. It did come at a cost¡ªJung does not doubt that. A costly one that will cause grief among his loved ones. But this is merely fate¡ªa cruel fate, but his fortune nonetheless. This is the path he chose when he joined the pirate fleet¡ªand even more so when he agreed to take up arms against the Federation once more. There was never truly going to be happiness for Jung no matter his choices. And though it does slightly displease the old Wulf that even here at Rouen, his monumental efforts will be used as leverage in her success¡ªjust as she did at Abassi. And looking back on it all, it would make no difference if he lost at Abassi since everyone would have lost. Perhaps with the benefit of hindsight, Jung has looked at Abassi the wrong way¡ªthey had won, regardless if the spotlight was swept under him. What¡¯s even more important is their¡ªnotjust Li¡¯s nor Jung¡¯s¡ªvictory secured the nascent Year 217 Mafia. And if it were not for Abassi, Jung would never have met and settled down with Frau and lived a short but peaceful life with Jean at his side as well. Likewise, what could be said for Abassi could also be applied here. Jung survived Abassi, and instead of moving on, Jung dwelled on the past¡ªthe endless rabbit hole of what could¡¯ve been, like with Fa before. And frankly, though the circumstances may not be the same, Jung would have it no other way. To leave things in Li and Jargon¡¯s hands means Jung can rest without regret¡ªnotwithstanding he will be leaving behind Frau and Jean. But he knows the two of them will preserve. They¡¯re strong women that can take care of themselves and their unborn child. Even then, Simon or Li will take care of them. Jung firmly believes he has nothing to worry about now. And now, in his last moments, Jung Lee has made peace with himself. And with that peace, he feels free from the shackles of lamentation. At that particular moment, if only for a lasting moment, Jung Lee experiences the flight of a long-caged bird fleeing its imprisonment. ¡°Li Chou, I leave the rest to you,¡± Jung Lee says softly under his breath ¡°just as I thought, there¡¯s no place for me at all¡­¡± I¡¯m sorry, Jean. I¡¯m sorry, Frau. I¡¯m sorry, Simon. Everyone¡­ please forgive me. Chapter 63: Memories of Toscana | Rouen, The Crimson Sea
THE CASTELFORTE
The spectacle of a million lights. It reminds me of a memory from so many years ago, of a place I cannot recall and with loved ones long since gone. I must have been very little then, and remember finding myself seated on someone¡¯s shoulders¡ªperhaps it was my older brother or my papa. Getting a clear view of breathtaking lights that pop and explode with such rhythm that to a young child, it would surely be a memory they would never forget. One they would cherish for as long as they live¡ªa capsule of simpler and better times, without a worry in the world. To look back on it and feel nostalgic; feel warmth over such a lovely memory. And to have that memory resurface now¡ªto have a memory dug up by death and destruction is sickening. A spectacle of a million lights¡ªnot one of innocence, but signifying the ongoing armed struggle between people. Where each spectacle of fireworks goes off not with rhythm to bring joy to hundreds gathered, but the determined purpose of killing another living being¡ªand more than just hundreds at that. And it sickens me. It sickens me to the core to have an innocent memory tramped on and become affiliated with this moment. The more upset I get about this, the more agitated my scar tissue gets. My attempts at rubbing my mature mark in an attempt to soothe the tissue fail, and in fact contribute to it all the same. As I hunch over in my chair I can only wish I had asked Olga to stay with me. I feel like I need her now more than ever, but asking her to leave the Taiga at this point would cause inconvenience for the rest of the fleet. It would cause a little bit of confusion in the ships she leads¡ªand I have no other lieutenants capable of filling her position. I could, however, ask Richter to lead her ships. But I¡¯ve asked too much of the man already and I wouldn¡¯t want to fill his responsibilities more than what I ask of him already. I hate to admit it, but Olga¡¯s attention is needed where it is best suited. As I look on the ongoing barbaric flashes of light, we happen to pass by wreckages of ships that I recognize as Ruthenian designs. I had a suspicion that the unthinkable would happen; of the Metropol fleet breaching the asteroid defense lines. And to think that Jung managed to pull through for this long is impressive¡­ but it feels like this battle has occurred too soon. And to think these metal husks are so far out from the asteroid belt is rather concerning. Was Jung on the verge of defeat, or was luring the Metropolitan fleet into the asteroid belt a part of his strategy? Perhaps I have squandered my ploy by resting over L¨¹beck, and even so much on the outskirts of Valspon? A tap on the shoulder. I look up in surprise to see the big oaf Brutus standing over me with a snow-white handkerchief in hand. ¡°Madame¡­ are you okay?¡± He asks as hands me the pristine cloth ¡°you¡¯re rubbing your face too hard. If Olga saw you now, I think she¡¯d faint if she saw the blood dripping from your face,¡± Brutus remarks with a stern frown. I must¡¯ve been so lost in thought blocking everything out that I didn¡¯t notice the burning tinge the scar is causing¡ªand examining my slightly crimson palm. Actually, it must¡¯ve been that I was accidentally digging into the scar tissue given the state of my fingernails. ¡°In comparison to the slaughter unfolding before us,¡± I reply coolly, ¡°my pain and the oozing blood is trivial.¡± I offer Brutus my thanks and take the handkerchief from him. I do what I can by being careful rubbing my face and not further instigate the wound. Brutus only nods his head in silence. After that, we both observe the heated see-saw unfolding in the rapids of the asteroid field, particularly in the north sector of it where the fighting is the heaviest. I can only shudder when it¡¯s evident just how overwhelming bearing the Federation numbers are on screen. To see it from a light-second away is one thing; to see it when it¡¯s a few hundred kilometers away is another. ¡°This is the most intense meteor shower I¡¯ve laid eyes on,¡± Brutus comments ¡°If this occurred when we were still here in July, I sincerely doubt the Feds would bother, and turn back to bother someone else.¡± ¡°It¡¯s because of this storm that Jung has been able to hold out until now,¡± I calmly note ¡°I have no doubt if this meteor shower was even slightly less ferocious, Jung would have faced a total rout on his hands. Even now, it seems evident to me his men are facing their breaking point.¡± In the northern sector zone, I observe the center force facing a three to one ratio. It¡¯s clear enough to me that the Metropolitans are only a few steps away from pushing through the pitifully small pirate fleet. I¡¯m impressed that the Federation isn¡¯t pressing their numerical advantage. Is it incompetence, or are the Metropol commanders simply acting cautiously with regards to the meteor shower? In the south, another detached battle unfolds. There I cannot make heads or tails of it being a rout of ours or a deliberate ploy by Jung to split the Metropol armada. And given the numerical advantage of the Metropolitan fleet, I cannot tell if Jung¡¯s motive serves any purpose when he is overwhelmed on all fronts. Did he intend to lure a squadron away under the pretext that I would arrive in time to eliminate them? What a frustrating predicament I am in. Without any input from Jung¡¯s perspective, formulating a battle-plan will be difficult given what I am working with. ¡°Brutus, tell the radio handler to establish communications the Wulfhere¡ª¡± ¡°The Wulfhere?¡± He repeats blinking owlishly ¡°are you sure, Li? The Federation might intercept our transmission,¡± I give my nod. Though what the oaf says is true, of course. But given that the Metropol battle-lines haven¡¯t reacted to my presence yet we might have a chance to remain undetected. Brutus relays the order to the communications technician, and after a while, his shoulders slump with disappointment. It¡¯s not exactly a good telltale sign of what I would want to see or hear. ¡°The Wulfhere¡­?¡± I ask quietly. I glance over to the overbearing strategic monitor for the ship and find its trajectory racing towards friendly lines from the Federation¡¯s. ¡°It¡¯s difficult because of distance,¡± Brutus replies disparagingly ¡°and Federation jamming means it¡¯s nigh impossible to contact anything but the ships in its near vicinity.¡± ¡°There¡¯s no helping it, then,¡± I remark trying to mask my disapproval. I look back at the map, and only then does it become apparent to me that something is amiss. Despite its overwhelming numerical superiority, the Metropol battle-lines seem stiff, almost as if they¡¯re¡­ paralyzed. When I skim over the Wulfhere¡¯s overall trajectory, and the ships it passed through, it occurs to me what Jung is up to ¡°the Metropol flagship,¡± I utter ¡°Jung Lee was trying to disable it, no¡ª¡± I shake my head ¡°he did disable it!¡± Notwithstanding the ferocious meteor shower, it¡¯s evident that the Federation command is just as thrown into disarray as we are. Based on what limited info I can gather from the map, it may be possible Jung landed a direct hit on the flagship¡ªthe Trinidad. But without clear evidence and because we are too far away from the front-lines still, our sensors wouldn¡¯t be able to get any clear visual from here. But from what I can tell, it doesn¡¯t seem like the Trinidad is completely sunk given that we are picking up its signal on our systems. ¡°A message from the Montepuez!¡± A shout from below; likely the radio operator no less. As unfortunate as it is, that dreadful man I call father is still alive despite all the men and women dying for his sorry existence. I instruct Brutus to tell the bridge personnel to put him on screen, and it¡¯s not long before the overbearing portrait of the ugly excuse for a human overlaps the strategic map. ¡°My, my! Look who came back to enjoy the lovely fireworks!¡± Father beams ever so forcefully ¡°enjoy some teatime and maybe a nap over at Valspon and L¨¹beck, I bet?¡± ¡°Cut to the chase, father,¡± I reply a little with emphasis at the end ¡°what happened before I arrived? What was the Wulfhere doing? Did he take out the Federation high command?¡ªthe Trinidad?¡± Zhui¡¯s forced smile turns into a saggy, pursed frown. ¡°So many questions! So many possibilities!¡± Zhui expresses with contempt ¡°if only that lovely old dog didn¡¯t shut me down and went his merry little way to do whatever the fuck he felt like doing¡ªthem maybe¡ªjust maybe ¡ªI could give you a solid answer, eh?¡± Zhui strokes his beard while tapping his disfigured cheek ¡°but I will tell you this; Jung was yearning to go out in a wonderful blaze of glory ¡ªand he got his wish¡­¡± Zhui tilts his tilt with a nod ¡°¡ªmmm, somewhat! His ship was hit by a torpedo¡ª¡± I spring up from my chair in bafflement ¡°what?!¡± I nearly scream. It nearly makes Brutus flinch, but he places a giant hand on my comparably small frame and gently pushes me back onto my seat. Zhui raises a palm to the screen as a gesture. ¡°As alarming as that may be¡ªand believe me¡ªit gave me a good shake, too! But if he had died then and there, then the fleet would¡¯ve died with him,¡± Zhui finishes with a shrug. I don¡¯t believe this, I can¡¯t believe it. Why would Jung risk throwing away his life for a wretched tyrant?! ¡°And yet¡­ judging from the positions on the map, you were in his fleet, and didn¡¯t go with him?!¡± I ask as Brutus tries to keep me in my seat. The Don answers by tilting his head and shrugging. ¡°There was a stray Fed squadron in our rear,¡± he says pitifully ¡°someone had to take care of it¡ª¡± ¡°You monster,¡± I blurt out gritting my teeth ¡°you¡¯re an absolute coward!¡± The burly hand resting on my shoulder gets a little tighter. The Don first raises his shoulders then rolls his eyes with a sigh of disbelief. ¡°Monster¡­ coward, I am many things, my wonderful child,¡± Zhui states ¡°believe me, it wasn¡¯t obvious what Jung was doing until it was too late¡ª far too late,¡± he shakes his head ¡°I wanted to urge him to reconsider¡ª truthfully! I did. I knew it would be suicidal, but the prideful had blocked all efforts to communicate with me, and¡­¡± Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°Enough, I think I heard enough out of you,¡± I interject, trying to calm myself by rubbing my scar ¡°Brutus, cut the communications.¡± ¡°Li!¡± Zhui leans forward in his seat with a stern, ugly look ¡°don¡¯t make the same mistake as Jung did! You think I want to lose any more officers than I already have?!¡± ¡°Cut it, now!¡± I growl to a hesitant Brutus, who yells at the officer to kill the transmission. ¡°I don¡¯t want to hear another word out of this miserable man I call father.¡± Just as the Don opens his mouth to interject, the video feed ends abruptly. Brutus glances over at me conflictingly before looking over the railing he leans on. ¡°Li¡­¡± Brutus trails off quietly. ¡°All that man does is provoke people into doing fruitless things. Don¡¯t let him fool you for a second into thinking he suddenly feels sentimental for any of us,¡± I say coldly ¡°that wretched old man wouldn¡¯t care less if someone with authority challenging his own would die fruitlessly.¡± Brutus cuts loose a sigh and leans with his back to the railing. He glances behind him at the overlay monitor. Not much has changed on either battlefield¡ªthe north has become largely static combat-wise. From the actions on the map, I can surmise we hold one clear advantage over the Metropol armada: we¡¯re terribly overstretched, but due to simply smaller numbers we have an easier time dodging the meteorites and taking potshots at the enemy. The Federation, on the other hand, I wager, is still in a state of leaderless chaos as they juggle between taking initiatives, waiting for orders, dodging the shower rapids, and struggling to use their numerical advantage to increase the width of the front-lines. But so long as the torrent of meteorites persists, the Metropol ships will be unable to do anything. But like the inevitable flow of time, our double-edged advantage will only last for so long. The shower is unpredictable and it could slow down at any given moment. Or it could last hours¡ª days, even. But regardless, will we even have the fuel, willpower, or munitions to continue fighting? Even so, for the time being, our men there can hold out for a little longer¡ª they have to. The most troubling situation so far, however, is the center¡ªthere hardly exists any opposition to the Federation in that space zone. The only number of ships we have present is a small detachment that my father has under his command. If the Federation so much as decided to maneuver alongside the flow, he¡ªand the rest of the lot¡ªwould be a goner. And as much as I would care for the man to be dead, I need him alive for just a little longer. If I return to L¨¹beck without the man alive, victorious, there¡¯s no telling what fate may wait for me. That just leaves me with the self-contained battlefield in the south. Regardless of Jung¡¯s intention with that tactic, if our ships get annihilated down there then there¡¯s a possibility of encirclement¡ªworst yet, they might march off to L¨¹beck. I would have to consider this the most mobile element of the Metropol armada¡ªat least for the time being. Whatever occurs down here could prove decisive. As I heave a sigh and relax my head on the chair headrest, I can¡¯t help but worry that this situation Jung has thrown into my lap is a precarious one. When I see the man, I will have to give him an earnest scolding. Whichever position I decide to assist, the center and opposite flank will collapse. It would be nice if my luck were a little better, but unfortunately, that¡¯s just how it is. My eyes wander around the map screen, searching for an answer to this mountain of a dilemma I find myself in. Should I divide my fleet? No. If I split my fleet up now, I would be repeating the Metropol mistake at Baltit; I would be playing straight into the tactic of divide and conquer. Similarly, since most of my ships lack transponders¡ªwhich were transferred to the balloon ships¡ªit could cause a panic and lack of coordination with whichever fleet I decide to send them to. For that reason, I would be better off maintaining a single host of phantom ships. That way I can reliably relay orders through shuttles and communications with the Hugh and Taiga. It¡¯s not the most ideal, but compared to throwing in additional confusion of wandering phantom ships and potential friendly-fire that may transpire, this is the most sensible solution I have. My eyes drop to the now-discolored cloth being rubbed in my vividly-red hands. Sensible solution. Just the thought of it makes me scoff. Is there any sensibility to be had in getting my hands bloodied to achieve my goals? If only I was more assertive at Brunsb¨¹ttel . If only I tried harder to convince Simon of the righteousness of a coup. Nobody would have to die for empty victories. Nobody would have to pay the price of ensuring an old scoundrel like Zhui to continue his bloody reign over Toscana! ¡°Madame¡­ er, Li,¡± the indication of a throat being cleared brings me out of my agonizing thoughts. ¡°The lieutenants in the other ships are asking for your next order,¡± Brutus states flatly. I give a nod and my gaze drifts to the map standing behind Brutus for one last decision on the next course of action. If that young blonde was here¡ªthat Victoria Happ-Schwarzenberger¡ªwhat would she do? Would she seek to eliminate the mobile squadron on the left flank, or take a gamble on the Trinidad much like Jung has done before? Or maybe something entirely that I haven¡¯t thought of? From the looks of things, there is still the decoy fleet¡ªalbeit smaller than I left it, but still tactfully useful. I cut loose with an exhaustive sigh, and then make eye-contact with Brutus. ¡°Inform the fleet that we will set out as one for the southern zone¡ªwe will relieve the fleet, which is led by the Kafraiya from the gist of things¡ªand then engage the main Federation dogs later,¡± I state coolly. Brutus¡¯s face turns pale as he blinks owlishly. ¡°W-we¡¯re not going to relieve captain Lee in the north?¡± He says stammeringly. I give a shake of my head. ¡°It¡¯s too risky to split the fleet now. The Metropol ships in the southern zone pose a great tactical risk to the overall flow of the battle. If the Kafraiya loses there, then I will have to engage them head-on¡­ and I can¡¯t afford any losses. Jung is a man like none other¡ªhe will understand my decision and hold his ground,¡± I remark as I rub the edge of my cheek scar ¡°it¡¯s a gamble I¡¯m willing to take¡­ if only because I have no other valid options. Also¡­ instruct the fleet to probe the Ruthenian debris for any stragglers. Who knows if Jung wasn¡¯t cautious about ships that survived this massacre.¡± With a hesitating salute, Brutus heads off to deliver the orders. I sink into my seat and gently wipe my face with the red cloth. Hang in there, Jung. Hang in there for just a little longer.
Against all odds, our phantom fleet manages to intercept the southern Metropol contingent without issue. This grand surprise attack could not have been accomplished if it were not for the spearhead lead by Olga¡¯s Taiga. Thus, the Federation lapdogs remain none the wiser until the last possible second. I imagine they perceive us as just another part of the asteroid torrent heading downstream. And the subsequent horror when they realize in their dying moment that this isn¡¯t a mere Federation battleship coming to their aid¡ªbut a Mafia fleet led by the Madame Scarface. Oddly, the annihilation of the Metropol squadrons feels so swift and with such sound execution that a part of me leads me to believe this couldn¡¯t be the same Federation military that I encountered at Abassi all these years ago. Have the Federation been training their men so poorly since then, I wonder? Perhaps their overeagerness to blindly take advantage of my absence contributed to their downfall. Perhaps I overestimated the Metropol commanders. If I was facing Miss Happ once again, would she have protested the split-up of these squadrons? I can only wonder if I overcommitted to the south. If the squadrons here were so weak-willed, then perhaps I could¡¯ve handled it with even a fraction of my fleet. Maybe sending the rest of the fleet to assist Jung would¡¯ve been more beneficial. Regardless, the mobile task force is gone, and all that I need to focus on now is the battle in the northern space zone. After examining the aftermath and ensuring that no Federation ship remains, I lean over the railing and look down at the bridge staff below. ¡°Establish contact with the Kafraiya at once,¡± I shout down to the radio handler as I lean over the railing. It doesn¡¯t take long before a grizzled old man with a distinct handlebar mustache appears on the mainframe screen. ¡°Aye! If it isn¡¯t the star of the show!¡± The old codger bows on-screen and twirls his snow-white mustache ¡°I would say that I am relieved to be rescued¡­ but me and my tired men are also inclined to curse you for arriving so bloody late! To be rescued by a fashionably-late wrench¡­ it¡¯s a dreadful thought! I was fully capable of handling the situation myself!¡± He retorts hoarsely. But with an ear-to-ear grin like that, I find it difficult to be irritated by the captain. ¡°Captain¡­ Emmanuel,¡± I squint drumming my thoughts for his name ¡°I¡¯ll let your insult slide this time¡ªso long as you rush to the aid of Jung Lee in the northern sector. I¡¯ll send a few of my ships to reinforce you, as well.¡± ¡°Hooo¡­?¡± Emmanuel squints at me with pursed lips ¡°you intend to throw me out of this hot-shit mess into another fiery pan? You have some guts, lass¡­ not even a moment to relax these brittle bones of mine,¡± the gray-haired captain groans. Even after all the hardship that his fleet went through, he still has the positivity to be casual with his remarks. ¡°My apologies, Emmanuel, I promise that you will have the chance to rest for as long as you¡¯ll like when this is over¡­ but for now, I merely ask that you direct your complaints at the Metropol fleet instead for as long as possible,¡± I say warmly with a wincing smile. Emmanuel glares at me with narrow eyes again. ¡°And what do you intend on doing, lass? Kick back and relax while me and the men lie down like the dogs we are and take our beatings?!¡± Emmanuel says shaking his head ¡°don¡¯t be surprised if you see my head on a stick, lass.¡± ¡°I need you and Jung to hold out long enough for me to sweep behind and snipe their flagship. If I can take out their chain of command, I believe I can bring a swift end to this battle.¡± Emmanuel looks off-screen at his monitor and cuts loose with a sigh. He looks back at me with a brief nod. ¡°I have faith in you, Li. Once I reorganize my men and stock up on munitions, I will march out to the north as soon as I can,¡± the Kafraiya captain concludes with a fist pump to the chest which I also do, and the transmission ends. ¡°A sweep behind the Feddie dogs, eh?¡± The voice of Brutus as the oversized bear makes his way up the flight of stairs. ¡°Do you think you¡¯re capable of pulling it off, Li? Would it not be better to reinforce the front-lines directly?¡± ¡°If I start to doubt myself about it,¡± I remark as I gently stroke my scar tissue ¡°then even I won¡¯t be able to fool myself into thinking it¡¯ll work. I believe I make a crucial mistake of overcommitting here. I don¡¯t want to add to the list of blunders I¡¯ve¡ª¡± A scream from below cuts me off. Jolting back to the railing, I peer down to see a crowd of people forming around the radar console. A Federation attack? No, that shouldn¡¯t be possible. There shouldn¡¯t be any ships left in this zone, and it could take the Federation at least another hour to react. ¡°A Federation cruiser! It¡¯s a single Federation cruiser!¡± A crew member shouts with panic. ¡°What the hell are you waiting for, take it out! Spread out before it can strike at us!¡± I angrily massage my mature scar tissue. Just what the hell are our ships doing?! Did they lower their guard for even a second, thinking that there would be no more stragglers? I should¡¯ve been more thorough! A camera sensor shows on the mainframe computer screen of a single gray ship as it emerges from the large swath of wreckage drifting aimlessly amid bodies of asteroids. Just before it readies to discharge its batteries, the Federation cruiser is struck by a single projectile¡ªthen it swerves, nearly capsizes, and finally crashes into the nearby meteor. Immediately afterward, several more projectiles pummel the side of it and blast the asteroid behind it. And it should¡¯ve ended there, but it doesn¡¯t. And as time slows to a crawl, I watch in horror as just before it goes up in a fiery reddish ball, several stray missiles are discharged in time to avoid the resulting shock-wave¡ªand most of the missiles spiral out of control and detonate harmlessly. But one propels towards us, and despite most pilot¡¯s best attempts to steer clear of its path, it races past most¡ªand detonates on the broadside of one unfortunate enough to maneuver out of the way. And with a gaping mouth, I¡ªas well as the Castelforte bridge¡ªwatch in shock as the ship in question sinks and drifts out of control. Fate. It respects no one and treats everyone with equal cruelty: the Kafraiya¡ª the old and seasoned captain Emmanuel¡ªhas been sunk. Chapter 64: Memories of Toscana | Rouen, the Wave of Pyres: Ripples of Determination This can¡¯t be happening. I don¡¯t want to believe that the unthinkable happened. Captain Emmanuel and his men have endured so much suffering and went to great lengths to preserve their lives. And yet, in the brief moment they get to lower their guard they are taken out in such a distasteful manner. This is malevolence at its finest; cruelty that causes me great pain. Yet again blood has been pointlessly spilled¡ªa death of many that could¡¯ve been averted if I had taken more precautions. And yet, all the same, I am powerless to do anything. Down below, the bridge is in an uproar. They shout at one another, run around in a panic trying to make sense of the situation. Some look up at me for answers, and everyone tries to make sense of what the next course of action will be. Next to me, Brutus tries to calm me down¡ªa gentle rub on the shoulder. Words of reassurance that don¡¯t reach me. Leave me alone, I want to say to Brutus, figure it out among yourselves what to do next. But I can¡¯t bring myself to speak. From below, an exclamation to the rest of the bridge that I happen to selectively hear stirs me from the dreadful spell cast over me. ¡°We¡¯ve managed to establish communications with the Kafraiya!¡± ¡°Could it be?¡± I whisper wryly ¡°could captain Emmanuel be alive?¡± Brutus takes a step back and bellows to the radio handler to display the video transmission if possible. Slowly, I raise my head, and my eyes are drawn to a murky transmission of a lone man, the backdrop lit as amber. From the portrait view, he looks rather uninjured but does seem to clench his stomach just off-screen. ¡°The Kafraiya?! ¡± Brutus shouts in my stead ¡°what¡¯s the status on the damage?¡± Brutus glances over at me before banging a fist on the dark-gray railing ¡°is captain Emmanuel in critical condition?! Speak!¡± The young man, with a gravely pained face, shuts his eyes. He clears his throat and averts his eyes off-screen. Just barely visible behind him are stretchers racing around him. But there is no sign of the gray eminent captain. ¡°Captain Emmanuel¡­¡± the young sailor states somberly ¡°¡­was directly hit by shrapnel to the abdomen¡­ and died from severe blood loss,¡± he lowers his head briefly and covers his face ¡°it all happened so fast¡ªhe never even got a chance to react. Just before he died, Madame Li, he wished for you to give the Federation hell for what they have done¡­¡± the man lowers his head again. Just off-screen, a hand is placed on his shoulder and says something that I cannot make out, as the connection proves to be unstable. The adjacent person disappears, and the man looks upon me with gleaming eyes. ¡°We¡¯re trying to evacuate the ship as fast we can¡ªthe engines might go out any minute now¡­ but we still want to fight!¡± Brutus glances over at me, and then back at the screen ¡°don¡¯t be ridiculous! You all need to get to safety. It¡¯s what captain Emmanuel would have wanted!¡± ¡°We don¡¯t want to let Emmanuel¡¯s death be in vain! We could never live with ourselves if we didn¡¯t pay back the Feddie dogs tenfold!¡­¡± ¡°Enough!¡± Brutus retorts, slamming his bruised fist on the railing ¡°I¡¯ll quickly send shuttles and send you lots to the nearest Side! Your battle here is over¡­¡± ¡°It is his decision on what he wants to do,¡± I whisper under my breath. Brutus nods but turns to face me with perplex upon realizing what I said ¡°if he wants to avenge his captain, then he has all rights to. If it were me that was struck down, would you or the men want to do the same?¡± ¡°Li¡­¡± Brutus mutters. I rub my facial scar and meet eyes with the youthful sailor on screen. ¡°What is your name, young man?¡± I ask the fellow, who is taken back by the question. ¡°Dontae, it¡¯s Dontae Kleyman¡± Dontae responds. I give a nod and close my eyes. ¡°Dontae¡­¡± I utter under my breath and open my eyes ¡°Dontae, if there is no one else capable of taking over Emmanuel, I hereby place you in command of the Kafraiya¡¯s crew,¡± both men stare at me with widened eyes ¡°if you wish to continue fighting, then quickly join another ship and finish the fight¡ªfor his sake and all of ours. If there are men who wish to honor the captain¡¯s memory in peace, then let them go where their hearts desire.¡± Just as Dontae nods, another video display opens¡ªthe white-haired Richter. ¡°Acting captain Dontae,¡± the man says with a warm smile ¡°I have heard everything¡­ it is most tragic that Emmanuel suffered such a terrible demise,¡± Richter remarks with a pained face ¡°I have known him for as long as I could remember. I would be more than welcoming of his men aboard my ship, and I am sure he would be grateful of this gesture as well,¡± Richter finishes as he looks off to the side at Dontae. ¡°Thank you, Richter, and Madame Li¡­ for this opportunity,¡± Dontae says somberly. With a grunt, the man gives us a brief salute and then signs off. Richter then turns his attention to me ¡°now then¡­ what should be our next course of action, Madame?¡± I turn my back to the railing and ponderously pinch the blemished part of my nose bridge. What shall we do, indeed? Looking at the map, adjacent to Richter¡¯s video feed, the battle in the northern zone is as static as ever. As much as I desire rushing to execute the flanking maneuver, the loss of Emmanuel and the Kafraiya throws a wrench into my plans. It still feels like though I have unfinished¡ªbut brief¡ªbusiness here, so I should wrap things up here more thoroughly and hold off on the north for now. Who knows if more stragglers are biding their time? For all I know, perhaps that stray missile was intended for me. Where there is one, there may be more lurking to leave their mark on history. I turn back to face the stoic Richter. ¡°Send a message to all the ships to search the Federation wreckages for any enemy survivors¡­¡± I trail off and look to Brutus who gives me a nod ¡°I want to make them pay for Emmanuel; there shall be no quarters. In the meantime, I want all the lieutenants gathered to discuss my plans for the battle¡­ Richter?¡± The man slightly frowns and strokes his chin. ¡°Given what has occurred with Emmanuel, I believe it might pose a risk if more surviving Federation ships make attempts at sinking the Castelforte¡±Richter inquires ¡°would it not be beneficial for us to remain on our ships and communicate on secured lines?¡± My eyes drift to the Castelforte¡¯s windows. If I look closely enough I can make out the Kafraiya¡¯s chassis as it drifts by the wayside of passing asteroids. Even now a steady convoy of shuttles are doing their part to retrieve its crew¡ªand hopefully, the remains of Emmanuel. ¡°Richter, given that you were close with Emmanuel, do you believe he would wish to be buried in L¨¹beck, or perhaps laid to rest with his ship?¡± I ask looking back at Richter, a glimpse of surprise at the sudden off-topic question. ¡°Emmanuel loved his ship more than anything¡ª¡± a scoff ¡°even more than his crew. Unlike Jung, he never had much care in the world for Toscana, for women, or anywhere else for that matter. He felt right at home in theKafraiya ¡ªit was a part of him. I believe a ship pyre is what he would¡¯ve wanted. Given that the engines will blow any moment, I think he could not have asked for a better sendoff.¡± I give a slight smirk. ¡°If it¡¯s not too late, please contact Dontae and let him know to leave the late captain¡¯s remains behind. Now then, getting back on hand, you make a valid point about having us congregate on theCastelforte ¡ªthough, I believe that a stray Metropol ship would still detect signals coming from each ship and make an attempt in either case. Regardless, we would be wasting valuable time with shuttle travels, so a meeting through transmissions would be beneficial. Just as a precautionary measure, I will have the Castelforte put up a jamming signal so that our plan isn¡¯t decrypted and relayed to the Metropol fleet in the north.¡± ¡°Understood,¡± Richter replies with a nod of approval ¡°I will sign off for now and do my part of combing the wreckages for any Federation survivors, until then¡­¡± Richter pats his chest with a fist and ends the transmission. Brutus and I then walk down the flight of stairs to the lower level of the bridge, where I can reliably relay orders to the operators on the search and destroy task. ¡°Aren¡¯t you being too cautious of rooting out Federation stragglers?¡± Brutus asks crossing his arms ¡°I see where Richter is getting at¡ªif there are ships around the Feds could no doubt detect either ship and attempt to take one out¡ªor both,¡± he shrugs his shoulders ¡°you say gathering everyone here is time wasted¡ªbut isn¡¯t the combing a little needless too?¡± While Brutus rags on, we are walking around as I give orders to all the bridge technicians handling the jammer and communication consoles. ¡°Brutus,¡± I say warmly ¡°I have to say for an oversized oaf you are quite an insightful complainer,¡± I glance out of the corner of my eye at the ape scoffing with bafflement ¡°as the saying goes¡­¡± I tap my bottom lip and scrunch my eyebrows ¡°it is better to be safe than sorry, am I wrong? Just as I told Richter, if there were any daring Metropol officers still lurking about, they would have tried their attempt at making history again.¡± I stop and turn to face the trailing Brutus, who similarly halts in place so as to avoid crashing into me. Brutus sags his shoulders and resigns with a sigh of defeat.
It doesn¡¯t feel like long when the reports begin flowing in; there is nothing to indicate any further presence of Federation stragglers. So what we encountered is merely a sole survivor who lucked out¡ªand what poor fortune that proved to be for us. With that said, I feel relief brush away all the weight on my shoulders. As I look upon the Kafraiya, I can only feel regret for not being more thorough in the initial destruction of the Federation detachment. The naivety of thinking that my foe is under-trained and under-prepared. In a twisted tactical sense, it is beneficial for me that the Federation ship commander chose to boldly risk the lives of his men for one last death throw, rather than quietly slip to warn the armada of the loss of the southern battlefield. If it was Miss Happ-Schwarzenberger in command, would she have attempted the same thing? Or would the young blonde bide her time, decode our transmissions and warn the fleet of the impending danger awaiting them? Hold on; even if we didn¡¯t detect any stragglers now, is it possible remnant ships took advantage of the chaos and slipped away to warn the Metropol host of our victory here? It could be likely, but by now my men would¡¯ve noticed any ship moving rapidly away from here¡­ As I thoroughly massage my disfigured cheek, I suddenly find myself alarmingly jolting when a burly hand is placed on my shoulder. Before I know it, I am one technique away from throwing this intruder over me¡ªbut upon seeing it¡¯s an embarrassed Brutus, my strength dissipates and I relax wholeheartedly. I loudly clear my throat, ¡°Brutus, you should know better than to¡ª¡± ¡°Er, sorry, Li,¡± Brutus mutters awkwardly as he retracts his hand and rubs the back of his neck ¡°I just wanted to inform you that the lieutenants are now all on screen.¡± ¡°I see¡­¡± I walk past Brutus towards the front of the bridge but decidedly stop. ¡°That aside, Brutus. There hasn¡¯t been any indication of strange movements heading away from the south space zone, has there?¡± Brutus ponders the question for a moment before shaking his head. I imagine with the meteor shower ongoing it might be hard to detect anything, so perhaps my worry is unfounded? Making my way to the frontal part of the bridge, I see that most of the monitor is taken up by the strategic map, and most sub-screens on either side are saturated with the various lieutenants: Olga, Richter, Darcy, and Sergi. In a way, it feels disheartening not to see Emmanuel among them. Perhaps even so, if the man was still with us there wouldn¡¯t be a need for this meeting in the first place. In which case the fleet could easily march north without needing to squander time. I hate the situation we are in, but it is my fault alone for not exercising more caution sooner. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. ¡°As all of you may now know,¡± I state warmly ¡°the passing of the Kafraiya Captain has thrown my plans into disarray,¡± I pause to give a moment for the lieutenants to some room to take in Emmanuel¡¯s fate. Richter in particular looks strained. ¡°The initial plan would have been to maintain cohesion of the phantom fleet as I flank into the rear of the Metropol armada. In the meantime, I would have deployed the Kafraiya¡¯s squadron to help replenish Jung Lee¡¯s fleet. In this way, I could bring all our forces to bear where they¡¯re needed. ¡°Unfortunately, I do not have any ship captains among the Kafraiya fleet to lead them as skillfully as he could. Thus, I am pained to decide between seeing who among you can go in his stead,¡± after wrapping up my speech, I sigh heavily and glance over at Brutus. It would be better if I could avoid all of this together and dispatch him to lead the Kafraiya detachment¡ªbut it strikes me as believing I haven¡¯t given him command of any ship and thus has no experience himself. I rub my scarred cheek in disbelief. To have a small pool of capable lieutenants seemingly dwindle by the day is frustrating. I¡¯m lucky enough that I still have Richter and Jung Lee. If only my father permitted Simon to come along then I wouldn¡¯t have to stress over this predicament so much. And as for Che¡­ Several open their mouths to speak, but it¡¯s the blonde that gets the first say in the ordeal. ¡°I¡¯ll lead the formation to master Jung, it¡¯ll be the firepower they¡¯ll need to hold the line,¡± as Olga speaks it¡¯s evident to all of us that something resembling battle-lines shift in the Federation¡¯s favor. Just as I have expected, they have shifted their weight downward in tandem with the meteor stream, thereby increasing the width of the lines. Olga glances over her shoulder to utter something off-screen. What follows is a slight change in the strategic map as it adjusts from real-time to a simulation of Olga¡¯s plan. ¡°I expect the Federation will want to unite with their southern front and envelop Jung. If I go with the Taiga they might be caught off-guard, and I might be lucky at getting a shot at the Federation command ship. And if I can¡¯t accomplish that, then I can disrupt communications with signal jamming.¡± It¡¯s a sound reason. It¡¯s firepower that Jung will desperately need and it will isolate elements of the fleet from others with the Taiga¡¯s encoding. But the main issue I see with Olga going with a fleet that has non-Federate identification codes means her luck will run dry this time. The Taiga, I think, works best when it is with my phantom fleet. Olga would just needlessly be exposing her and her crew when the Federation realize that one of their own is leading a pirate fleet. Who knows? They might just try and concentrate all their local firepower on it. With a wincing frown, I cross my arms ponderously. There is one way Olga could pull it off, though¡ªand that¡¯s perhaps making a plan for theKafraiya fleet to fire on the ¡®retreating¡¯ battleship as it frantically rushes to¡®friendly¡¯ line, From there, Olga can blend in and metaphorically backstab them¡ªthey would be none the wiser. I imagine there might be some old Federation uniforms on-board that she can take advantage of in case she has to initiate video feeds with them and make the ploy more convincing. Just as I begin to imagine the lanky blonde in military uniform, the voice of Richter brings me back to focus. ¡°For the record, I have no qualms with this plan¡ªI¡¯m sure Jung needs the firepower as much as we do, as evident by the slow decrease in his ship numbers¡­¡± Richter clears his throat and looks me in the eyes ¡°but just this once, Madame Li, I wish to honor Emmanuel¡¯s memory and head off to support Jung. I feel it is the only way for me to give a parting gift to an old friend of mine¡ªto someone I didn¡¯t get the chance to speak to for one last time. ¡°His death is in my hands¡ªthe responsibility lies with me as most outlying ships are under my command¡­ ships that should¡¯ve easily rooted them out beforehand¡± Richter closes his eyes and sighs ¡°I will retain a portion of the ships under my command to supplement the Kafraiya numbers¡ªto make up for the losses that Jung has seemingly occurred. ¡°With that said, the Taiga would be best suited for sailing with the phantom fleet¡ªdepending on how you handle things, Madame, I think you could find and locate the supply ships that the Federation has been holding back during this battle,¡± my eyes dart around the edge of the strategic map, But it¡¯s difficult pinpointing if any given formation are supply ships or not. It could be they are further back in the corridor. In the meantime, the others remain silent as they take in Richter¡¯s suggestion. When I look over at Olga, our eyes meet briefly. She silently nods in acknowledgment of Richter¡¯s plan. I want to tell myself this is how it should be. I suppose it¡¯s no secret that Olga means more to me than anything else. And if something were to happen to her, I have not the slightest doubt that I will be greatly disturbed and unable to lead our defense in earnest. In a way, this is a compromise that satisfies everyone. Richter gets to achieve what he believes is retribution¡ªor perhaps atoning himself for his anguish¡ªand my integrity of a phantom fleet will remain mostly intact. But emotional judgment aside, this may not be the most sound plan because there¡¯s always the risk that the Metropolitan fleet will shift its weight again and threaten Richter¡¯s formation¡ªand if I lose another talented officer then this battle will truly be lost. Perhaps it would be best for Sergi to go as well? Just as a precaution, as a just in case if Richter falls in battle. The gruff-looking man has not uttered a word so far and has mostly taken a backseat in the meeting. He seems to be more closely observing the strategic map if anything. When I look over at Darcy, I see someone who¡¯s more than capable of standing on her own¡ªbut if Richter goes down, she still lacks the talent compared to the core lieutenants. Her miracle at Baltit was impressive, but there will be no miraculous silver linings here. Compared to my brother, though, she has a bright spot as a lieutenant if she survives this. No, she will survive this. All of us will. That includes Jung Lee and Jean too. ¡°Madame! If It¡¯s not too much to ask¡­ I think it will be beneficial if I go along with Richter,¡± the red-haired Darcy beams ¡°most of my fleet has transponders¡ªif I remained with your fleet, it¡¯d ruin the element of surprise. I¡¯d hate to bear the blame for the fall of the Mafia here.¡± ¡°It didn¡¯t cross my mind,¡± I remark offhandedly to Brutus standing next to me ¡°but Che isn¡¯t entirely useless when he has lieutenants with heads on their shoulders,¡± with a pinch of my scarred nose bridge I continue ¡°when this is all over, I will have to scout out the lieutenants that served under him¡ªand her, too, I suppose. Though I do hope that after this battle there will be no need for bloodshed¡­ ¡°That aside, Darcy; I think I will leave the dummy fleet in your hands: I believe they have mostly served their purpose, but I have faith you can still find a use for them. The Federation may fail to realize at first I am in control of a phantom fleet¡ªor that I have returned¡ªso there is certainly an opportunity to throw the Metropol armada into disarray.¡± ¡°I understand, Madame, I will do what I can to drive the Federation scum out,¡± Darcy says resolutely. ¡°That said,¡± I declare ¡°this will not be a battle like none other. This is not a battle of annihilation or even dividing or conquering¡ªmuch like we have done at Side Baltit and every battle like Abassi. No matter how many formations we destroy¡ªno matter how many times we cut through a force, there will always be more. We will lose with that mindset in mind,¡± I shake my head with a regretful sigh ¡°there are more Metropol ships than there are men and munitions in our fleet: by no means least we capture or destroy the Trinidad will the Federation withdrawal,¡± as I finish the lieutenants nod one after the other in grim acknowledgment. As much as I desire having no one else die needlessly, I have to accept that this feat won¡¯t be accomplished without enduring the losses of hundreds, rather that be lowly crew or the captains leading them. And even then, will it be worth the colossal losses if the Federation will merely return to strike another day? With a wincing but warm smile, I speak again ¡°after this, much like at Side Baltit it will be exceedingly difficult to communicate with everyone other than Olga and Sergi¡ª¡± I gaze over Olga before darting back to the rest ¡°it could very well be the last time some of us may speak to one another,¡± enduring the increasing pain I try to smile more glowingly ¡°but I hope that will not be the case. I expect a lot out of everyone¡ªand surviving is our top priority.¡± I conclude with a casual ceremonial chest salute, and the others return the gesture. ¡°I believe that just about settles this meeting¡­¡± I pause before glancing out the bridge at the Kafraiya. The flow of shuttles has more or less ceased now; the last few shuttle speed away from it as if in a hurry. I turn to face Brutus, who has been following my gaze. ¡°If I had to guess,¡± Brutus surmises ¡°the Kafraiya¡¯s time is at an end?¡± He inquires as he glances at me. I ponder the thought before cutting a sigh. This is our one and only chance at giving Emmanuel a proper sendoff. I wish it could be done under better circumstances¡ªbut we will have to bear with it for the occasion. Perhaps when this is all done and over with, I will oversee a land burial for him and the countless others once I return to SideBrunsb¨¹ttel. Brutus gestures for someone to hand him a radio receiver, and after a little bit of scurrying from an adjutant he hands it over to me. ¡°This is theMadame Scarface of the Castelforte ¡ªI want all crew members to spare a moment of silence for those that stood fervently against all odds¡ªincluding Captain Emmanuel of the Kafraiya,¡± I pause for a moment to let the message sink in before clearing my throat ¡°if you can, I wish for all of you to salute and pay respects to the Kafraiya as it detonates¡ªthe least we can do before heading into the fray once more. Leave no regrets, and vent your anger out on the Federation armada.¡± With that said, I hand the receiver back to Brutus and walk towards the windows. For what seems like several moments, there is nothing. With bated breath, I wait for a detonation that may never even come. I release with a sigh, and just as I turn to inform Brutus we are to give a salute and begin the march north, the bridge is illuminated with an orangish-red glow. Almost instinctively, all the bridge crew somberly slam a fist to their chest. I quickly reel around and find not the Kafraiya ¡ªbut the spectacle of a sphere¡¯s blinding destruction. An explosion whose disruptive shock-waves subtly shake the Castelforte. But there is something oddly beautiful about it. For it is not one brought about by anger¡ªbut which means one whose captain can finally rest in peace. In my eyes, the fact that I do not need to tell any of the men to salute says much for itself. With a profound salute, I give my final regards to the Kafraiya ¡ªto the men and women who have done all they can to stall time for my arrival given the odds and the cruelness that speared them. From now on, no more suffering will end in vain. No more will I tolerate senseless sacrifices; no more will men cling to false hope. Whatever it takes, I will seek victory, no matter the cost. I will carve a river of blood to justify the ends to this nonsense of a conflict. The Federation can send as much as they will; I will send as many back in kind. I reel around to face the Castelforte crew; my arms outstretched. ¡°To all ships: the time has come! We sally forth to the north and relieve Jung Lee!¡± I yell with a clenched, to louder roars of excitement. Chapter 65: Memories of Toscana | Rouen, the Looming Tide Given the hardships that my fleet endures moving upstream of a particularly fierce meteor storm, it is a miracle that we are capable of maintaining this state of cohesion. The further along we go, the greater discrepancy between the phantom fleet and that of Richter-Darcy¡¯s. I closely watch as one after another drift off into a different trajectory towards a battlefield brimming with vibrant illuminations of destruction. The battle must be so close at hand that even stray missiles enter our path, either zipping past us or blasting chunks of meteors. On occasion, some Mafia ships are hit port-side, causing complications in the staggered formation we take. A tap on the shoulder and my attention turns to a concerned Brutus stroking his chin. ¡°Is something on your mind?¡± I ask calmly. Brutus exhales through his nose in response. He cranes his neck to glare at the strategic map. ¡°It hasn¡¯t occurred to you that Richter is overeager in avenging Emmanuel? To be engaging the Fed lapdogs this early might expose our plan to encircle them?¡± Brutus muses as he continues to stroke his chin ¡°perhaps you should¡¯ve ordered Richter to exercise more caution, at least until our fleet is further out of harm¡¯s way?¡± As he speaks, one of the countless stray missiles by chance obliterates a ship some kilometers ahead of us. TheCastelforte and accompanying ships carefully maneuver through the obstacles of metallic debris and chunks of burnt flesh. I follow Brutus¡¯s observation of the map and silently take the questions in. True, at a glance it does seem like Richter is zealously hammering the enemy. But I feel there is more to it than just that. ¡°Perhaps,¡± I answer in kind ¡°but it could be that the Metropolitans are simply marching at a pace quicker than ours. The battlefield is shifting south¡ªand as Olga surmised, they probably want to cooperate with the now-nonexistent mobile squadrons previously pursuing captain Emmanuel,¡± with my thumb I gently stroke my blemished cheek ¡°unfortunately for me, I can¡¯t have things always go my way. I am inclined to believe we are too close to Richter though¡ªso with that said I want the fleet to steer out of the asteroid field,¡± when I finish Brutus gives me a raised brow. ¡°Out of the asteroid field? Our detectability will be higher once their signals pick up the Castelforte or the Hugh,¡± Brutus retorts. ¡°It¡¯s better than being caught in the¡­ for lack of a better word; crossfires. The longer we stick close to Richter, the more likely the Metropol ships will take notice of our presence and delegate more of their reserves for an invitation to dance,¡± I answer back ¡°it¡¯s better for Richter, too¡ªsince he will have more space to spread out and harass the enemy. Less chance of bumping into us and causing collateral damage. The Federation will be too preoccupied with Richter and Darcy to take notice of the Castelforte or theTaiga.¡± If I have to be honest, even I find the words a little bold. All it takes is one competent radar handler to report to a superior of his findings of bizarre blips straying from the skirmishing and the asteroid belt. All it takes is his superior to make a judgment call and pass on his findings, and so on. There is nothing more dangerous than the right set of men at the right time. ¡°But with no asteroids as defenses,¡± Brutus protests ¡°we¡¯ll be easy pickings once the Federation engages us.¡± I scoff and grimace a smile at Brutus. ¡°My, you aren¡¯t convinced of our actions at Baltit? They may have the numbers and better cohesion here, but it all means nothing if their armament is powerless at close-range; that is something both fleets have in common. We wouldn¡¯t have gotten this far if not for June Lee. If he hadn¡¯t neutralized the Ruthenian elements, my successes so far would have been impossible otherwise,¡± I finish as I rest my back against the railing, arms crossed. Brutus looks a little more convinced, but I imagine he remains skeptical. Truthfully, he has every right to be. What I am subjecting the fleet to is nothing short of a suicidal gambit. I suppose having a confidant giving his insight on things helps me look at decisions with another pair of eyes. As Simon or Olga might say; two heads are better than one. ¡°With that said,¡± I turn my back to Brutus as he speaks after heaving a sigh of disbelief ¡°do you intend to heed Richter¡¯s advice by taking out the supply column, or do you intend to focus on striking at the Trinidad? I think what I am trying to get at is this: do we head further into Rouen to find this mystical supply fleet, or do we focus our attention here, at the battle unfolding?¡± ¡°A valid question,¡± I reply laconically ¡°I still do not know the location of the fleet¡­ that is, if it has even set sail in the first place. But I imagine it must be nearby¡ªthe Federation has likely been engaging Jung Lee for at least a good couple of hours. They¡¯re bound to get exhausted, and most importantly be running dry of ammunition,¡± I rub the scratchy texture of the poncho as I rack my brain for solutions. ¡°if I have to divide my force, and in the event its likely guarded¡­ sending Olga and some spare ships would be the sufficient choice in that case. But I will have to wait and see. In the meantime, let the fleet know to continue cruising out of the battle zone and enter the corridor. I want any developments no matter how mundane reported to me,¡± I declare to Brutus. The oaf, left with nothing else to say, gives me a salute and jolts down the stairs. With a sigh, I push myself away from the railing and stroll over to the comfort of my chair, nestling myself into it. I cross one leg over the other, and prop my head up with an arm. Just off to the Castelforte¡¯s wayside the skirmish unfolds, whose resulting actions periodically bask the bridge room in the familiar orangish-yellow glow.
Given enough time, the phantom fleet slips out of harm¡¯s way despite more of the Federation fleet shuffling squadrons around. Richter spreads himself out more, covering our advance with such sound execution that I find it hard to take in. Despite the asteroid belt¡¯s harsh current and the enemy ships riding in between them, Richter is more than capable of stalling the Metropol advance. Everything about this situation has been a breeze. It¡¯s all a little too good to be true. Yes, these developments are too good to be true. I hunch forward, hands propping my chin up, pondering how this situation could go awry. The longer I glare into the center of the strategic map and all the virtual blocks inching in several directions, the more I find the developments nerve-racking. I would even go as far as to say a sense of discomfort; as if sitting above an enormous pot of boiling water awaiting certain death. Jung Lee¡¯s formations are getting hit, and they are getting hit hard. That much is certain. However, his and the adjacent formations held by my father are bracing themselves all the same. When my eyes dart south, Darcy¡¯s formations¡ªas well as the dummy ships¡ªproceed upward to establish the battle-lines with Jung and the Don¡¯s ships¡ªor it would be reasonable to say they more or less have linked up already. Though the nature of the Mafia ships adjoining is increasingly strained by a salient that the Federation forms in one particular spacial zone. If Jung or even Darcy is capable of collaborating with the other at this point, they might be able to seal the salient opening and form an encirclement. But for that, it would mean drawing more ships from other spaces in the dwindling lines, thereby weakening it for one diminishing gain. As it stands now the whole idea is nothing short of wishful thinking. As I massage my scarred cheek, I can only curse myself for not lending more ships to Richter. Perhaps Darcy can use the dummy ships to complete the encirclement or even have them ¡®reinforce¡¯ gaps in the line would be sufficient enough to fool the Federation. But in either case, managing them in this storm is dreadful. Truth be told, I never took into account the forecast when using them initially. Since they¡¯re almost entirely remote-controlled I imagine it must be difficult handling them with visibility in mind. I have to give props to where they¡¯re due, rather that is Jung Lee or even Darcy. The bulging salient aside, the Federation continues to organically flow southward and put continuous pressure on the newfound pirate ships. But something feels off¡ªbut what? I quietly get to my feet and head over to the railing to cross my arms. From below, Brutus and several technicians look up at me from a nearby console. The grizzly Brutus raises a brow and glances behind him at the strategic map on the mainframe computer. As our formation strays further away from both the expanding battle-lines and the asteroid shower, we face almost no detection. No stray missiles no longer hit our herd of ships. No noticeable differences in Metropol squadrons scrambling to intercept us¡ªinterestingly, the Metropolitans are not as keen as executing a maneuver similar to what I¡¯m undertaking¡ªa detour outside of the asteroid field and increase the width of their battle-lines. If they were to mirror my tactic here in the south rather than attempt to push further into the asteroid belt and endure senseless losses, then this battle would be over before it has even begun. I tap my arms in bafflement; what exactly is the Metropol headquarters hoping to achieve? If I did not know any better it would seem they want to make this harder for themselves. What irritates me, even more, is they are too fixated on the salient. From the looks of things, they are regrouping to form a breakthrough into it. Which seems like a reasonable thing to do, however¡­ Glancing at behind their lines, it would seem they are overcommitting to the salient: why? Are they too far gone in their height of confidence that they believe their flanks aren¡¯t vulnerable? Hmmm. While stroking my chin, I pace around the deck as I continue to observe the unfolding battle. Come to think of it, the Metropolitan response to the arrival of my fleet has been nothing short of lackluster. I could owe it to the fact that I managed to annihilate the southern element before it could give warning to the main fleet, but even that aside the front-line Metropolitan ship captains seem unfazed regarding the fact they are essentially facing new combatants. Perhaps radar signals and poor visibility make it difficult to assess that reinforcements have arrived? If that were the case¡­ the ships not engaged in combat, like those acting as screens for the Trinidad would have taken notice of the developments unfolding at the front. And from there the Trinidad would¡¯ve adapted to the newfound development. But so far, it doesn¡¯t seem like it has played out that way. The only reasoning I could give is that Darcy and Richter¡¯s formations are to an extent camouflaged by the dummy fleet, and have not simply picked up the cue that the formation they¡¯re fighting has been reinforced or that their southern element has been all but destroyed. You would think even the Trinidad and her screen would take notice of all of these shifts in development, and perhaps even realize that a few unidentified signatures creeping past their rear. Either there is a helpless amount of sheer incompetence, or Jung¡¯s sortie on the Trinidad proved to be far more of a critical strike than I¡¯m led to believe. Perhaps there is just so much communication jamming going on that nobody is capable of making sense of the situation. If it were all this easy, then should I just reconsider capitalizing on this window of opportunity instead of pursuing a supply fleet that may or may not come? With the firepower at my immediate disposal and the real lack of a response from the Metropol headquarters, a clean shot at the Trinidadshould not be out of the question. From there I can seek out local flagships and throw the rest of the armada into disarray¡ªa rout, even. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. It cannot be that easy¡ªbut it certainly feels like it. As I release a troubled sigh, I look out the windows towards the thundering lights unfolding in the cosmic shower so many kilometers away. If Victoria was stationed in this fleet, would she persuade her superiors to avoid this increasing quagmire and withdrawal from Toscana? Failing that, would she plead for her superiors to consider the phantom fleet cruising past the asteroid shower¡ªupstream? As I dwell on it more I make my way back to the half-wall railing and lean on it. And it¡¯s only then I take notice of Brutus trying to get my attention. He stands over the radar station and gestures for me to come. I waste no time in speeding down the stairway and joining the trio at the console station. ¡°Has there been any noticeable movement from the Metropol fleet?¡± I ask concernedly glancing between the radar console screen and the strategic overlay map. There isn¡¯t anything that stands out to me other than the slowly creeping shrink of Jung Lee¡¯s formation, and Richter-Darcy doing what they can to compensate for their positions. ¡°A considerably¡­ large fleet¡­ approaches¡­ from the corridor,¡± one of the radar duo tersely states. I rub my temple and glare at the other one who assists in operating it. As if on cue he straightens up and clears his throat. ¡°It is as Bowen says, Madame ¡ªthough when he says considerably, it seems to be fairly larger than our own,¡± the other one says calmly. He proceeds with inputting commands into the console and exemplifies the strategic map view of this new opposition emerging from the corridor. ¡°Could this be the supply fleet?¡± I ask laconically while crossing my arms ¡°such a large-looking force¡­ I suppose there¡¯s still a possibility of them having escorts. But given that the Federation armada has more or less lowered its guard, perhaps they might not see a need for one?¡± The unidentified Federation fleet marches slowly to the asteroid field¡ªI¡¯d have to wager they¡¯re still over a thousand kilometers away from us or so. If we attack it now¡ªassuming it is the auxiliary fleet I am looking for¡ªthe Metropolitans superiority in numbers won¡¯t mean much if they waste all their ammo reserves. Not that our men must be faring any better with munitions, though. Give or set a few more hours of thorough firefights and out of all the Mafia ships committed to the battle, only my fleet will have the capability to sustain any more combat. Jung Lee and my father must be scraping the barrel by now. I turn to face Brutus and the others. ¡°At this range, do you believe it¡¯s possible to get a glimpse of them with cameras?¡± I ask Brutus in particular. The man frowns, looking over his shoulder at the rest of the bridge before gesturing for me to join him. After we excuse ourselves from the radar duo, we make our way to another console station and instruct the operator to put the looming threat on display. And what we see imposed over the mainframe monitor only makes me cut a sigh of relief. A whole herd of tan, oversized monstrosities that I¡¯ve come to know over the past few years in Ruthenia and Merica; Federal auxiliary ships. The very size of them is at least two to three times the size of even the largest battleship that either the Metropolitans or even the colonial navies in Ruthenia have fielded. Supposedly, they love cramming so much mat¨¦riel into these titanic ships to avoid multiple trips and accommodate more supplies for fleets in action. I don¡¯t understand the mentality of a shipwright¡¯s delusion versus the reality out in the unforgiving cosmic seas. I cannot help but feel sorry for them, not knowing their hard work is spent squandered by fools at the helm acting none the wiser. If only they knew what would become of months of hard, honest work. On either side of the supply convoy are a mixture of Ruthenian and Metropol ships. In front, there is more Federal than there colonial, however. All in all, there doesn¡¯t seem to be a lot of escorts from what I can tell on-screen. Could there be more in the back, perhaps? Or are the rear-guard personnel underestimating the situation even more so than their comrades at the front? Though, to be fair it¡¯s something that I¡¯ll give them some credit for; from their point of view, they can seemingly relax because they don¡¯t see us yet and the front-lines are turning increasingly lopsided. The salient in particular has gotten so big that it is just a few steps away from being a full breakthrough. At this rate, all the Mafia ships will be pushed out of the asteroid belt. To ignore this supply division and turn around to strike at the Trinidad, or use what available time I have to destroy the armada¡¯s resupply shipment. Even if we lose cohesion in the asteroid belt, so long as we retreat to the nearest Cluster Lagrange point, we can refuel, rearm, and bide time. The Federation on the other hand will have no choice but to withdrawal across Rouen to replenish. If all turns out well they might abandon their little endeavor altogether. Is it a risk I am willing to take? I look up at Brutus, who meets eyes after staring at the monitor for so long. ¡°Madame¡­?¡± He asks rather uncomfortably. ¡°Brutus, I¡¯d like your input; should I commit all we have here to eliminate the supply and its escorts, or do you think I should turn around and join the fray?¡± When I finish, he looks rather surprised but recomposes himself. ¡°Judging from the number of ships, I think it would be beneficial to¡ª¡± Brutus doesn¡¯t get to finish, as someone calls my name from behind. Reeling around, it is the sleazy looking Bowen. ¡°Several Federation¡­ squadrons rapidly approaching¡­ from behind,¡± Bowen states curtly. Behind Bowen, his partner catches up to the group. ¡°A trap, perhaps?¡± I surmise as I caress my nose bridge ¡°no, it could just be a mere coincidence to supply the auxiliary fleet with additional escorts?¡± I shoot a glance at Bowen¡¯s aide, who flinches in place. ¡°Erm, you see¡­ Bowen overstated the strength of it by a few notches,¡± he states apologetically as he nudges Bowen between the ribs ¡°I¡¯d reckon it¡¯s no less than a standard Fed squadron,¡± the man finishes as I cross my arms. ¡°Clyde¡­ I believe it was?¡± I ask warmly to the radar man¡¯s continued discomfort ¡°might I ask where Bowen here gets the idea of ¡®several¡¯?¡± For someone that Simon vouched is one of the best technicians we have with radar systems, Bowen is getting on my nerves with his wild assumptions. Clyde rubs his temple and opens his mouth. He is, however, cut off by the retorting Bowen. ¡°Signatures¡­ of Ruthenian warships¡­ most likely stragglers from other units¡­ reinforcing the Federation¡­ element,¡± Bowen discloses with a sincere smile. It impresses me that he remains unfazed despite me¡ªfor lack of a better word¡ª putting the heat on Clyde. ¡°It is as he says,¡± Clyde says sagging his shoulders ¡°from the looks of things they don¡¯t seem to be entering the usual combat formations, so they may be doing what you surmised; a precautionary move to avoid a raid on their merchant ships,¡± when Clyde finishes, Brutus clears his throat indicating his turn to speak. ¡°It¡¯s only a matter of time before the Feds do realize what is going on,¡± Brutus excuses the two of us as we make our way to the communications station ¡°and we face an immediate two-front battle if we don¡¯t at least sink the approaching merchant fleet.¡± ¡°And I suppose you¡¯re suggesting that I send a detachment to the Rouen auxiliary fleet and intercept the sortie squadron unknowingly pursuing us?¡± ¡°It would be too risky to do anything else,¡± Brutus replies and the two of us look up at the strategic map. Both Metropol formations are still thousands of kilometers apart, with the convoy one being the nearest to us by at least a thousand or even less. Neither would be able to support the other at this time. With the likelihood of the supply escorts being limited in number, it¡¯s very well likely I won¡¯t need to detach much of my own on top of having the initiative. ¡°To be graced with the initiative¡­ hm,¡± I muse ¡°it¡¯s interesting to see that the Ruthenians haven¡¯t committed more of themselves into the fray,¡± I grimace remembering the metallic carcasses we cruised by as we entered the star zone ¡°and it¡¯s most unfortunate Jung Lee was not capable of eliminating the whole force. But all things considered, it does appear there¡¯s barely enough of them to warrant a full-strength squadron which I reason they¡¯re grouping it with a Metropolitan one. And if the wayward colonial remains have been any indication, I can only imagine the lack of cooperation with each other. ¡°That aside¡­ open a transmission to Sergi and Olga,¡± I finish saying to the console¡¯s operator. While I wait for us to get patched through, Brutus appears to be in contemplation. ¡°I take it you have decided on the course of action?¡± Brutus asks. Just as Olga and the gruff Sergi appear on the screen, I give Brutus a brief nod and get the duo up to date on the situation. ¡°With that in mind,¡± I begin ¡°I deem it will be necessary having the Taigaengage and sink the supply ships,¡± Olga instinctively nods with a sly smile and those beady eyes of hers ¡°this is to ensure that we can maintain the element of surprise until the very last second; to deceive them into believing it is a part of the augmented detachment.¡± Although Brutus and Olga look convinced of the plan, Sergi on the other hand seems dubious of it. ¡°The Ruthenians¡­¡± he mulls ¡°do you believe they will believe it for a second of a Federation ship fast approaching while trailed by phantom units?¡± Sergi questions as he scratches his chin in contemplation. It¡¯s a fair point, I¡¯ll admit. It¡¯s no secret that the colonists have a natural distrust of the Terranoids. They might get too conspicuous and accidentally exchangefriendly-fire. Frankly, I do not argue. If the Ruthenians are trigger-happy, then there is no helping it. Regardless, if I give Olga just enough ships it won¡¯t be a problem in delivering a swift blow before it becomes a prolonged battle here. ¡°You should simply have faith in Olga,¡± I reply looking at the duo on-screen ¡°all the pieces are in place for a sound tactical victory here. Sergi, we will reel around and march back to the battlefield while Olga wraps up business here.¡± ¡°Just one more thing, Li,¡± Sergi says squinting off-screen ¡°is it necessary to destroy the supplies¡ªand not capture them for our use?¡± It¡¯s a question that makes everyone pause to think and then shift their attention to me. ¡°I think you make a point,¡± I reply coolly ¡°Jung Lee¡¯s formation must be on their last rounds by now. So ideally, if I had the ships and time to spare, we could transfer it to their positions¡­ but it¡¯s nothing less than wishful thinking¡ªfantasy even. Even denying the Metropol armada their resupply won¡¯t accomplish much other than delay the inevitable. Even if all their front-line ships are depleted of ammunition, they can always rely on their reserves to deliver the decisive blow. ¡°I have hope that I may be wrong; perhaps the Metropol armada may also find itself empty-handed in fuel and rations¡­ no matter the case and as grim as our situation may be¡ªI have limited choices; namely incapacitating their high command before the Federation is able to adapt to their exposed rear. If all goes well, I¡¯ll accomplish it before they¡¯re capable of bearing down on us with all their might.¡± When I finish, the others seem to understand and only give melancholic nods. ¡°I guess it just can¡¯t be helped then,¡± Sergi cuts loose a sigh and nods again ¡°I will direct my men to turn around and take the lead¡­¡± the gruff man looks off to the side at the blonde¡¯s screen ¡°Olga¡ªI wish you the best of luck. Please take care,¡± Sergi remarks before Olga can react. But she recomposed herself and smiles meekly at me with lively eyes. ¡°As Sergi said¡­¡± I say hearty ¡°¡ªplease promise me you won¡¯t do anything too rash, Olga. Promise me you¡¯ll come back in one piece¡­ I don¡¯t want to have to regret this decision.¡± ¡°I won¡¯t fail you, Madame,¡± Olga replies cordially ¡°I will deal with the auxiliary fleet speedily and join you in the fray before it causes you to worry¡± Olga pats her chest with a fist ¡°I swear on it.¡± Bearing the grueling pain, I crack a grin and slam a fist to my chest; gripping it tightly. ¡°Normally I¡¯d be irritated of you calling me by that dreadful name¡ªbut just this once I¡¯ll let it slide, Olga¡­ from the bottom of my heart; take care,¡± and with that last gleaming smile of Olga, the signal ends. With a mountainous sigh, I turn my attention to Brutus and the communications handler. ¡°Now then, inform some of the ship captains they will be staying behind with the Taiga. The others will turn-face and follow the Hugh¡¯s warpath. ? ¡°This battle, I reckon, has entered its finals stages. And whoever wins, the seas of Rouen will flow red regardless of the victor.¡± Chapter 66: Memories of Toscana | Rouen, the Other Side
AS LI AND OLGA EMBARK FOR THEIR TARGETS¡­
THE TRINIDAD
After the assault on the Trinidad hours earlier, the medical bays of our ship have been overflowing with dead and wounded. Every corridor Vinnie and I walk into, we are greeted by the sight of those stuck in purgatory. Many are left unintended simply because there is not enough medical personnel around. It has become such a problem that DeRyck caved in to the demands of his general staff and permitted transferring them to nearby ships for medical attention. ¡°It¡¯s despicable, isn¡¯t it Alexa?¡± Vinnie grimly muses ¡°and there¡¯s nothing we can do about it¡­¡± one of the wounded we are careful to walk over has had his legs amputated. His entire head is covered in scarlet-red bandages. A woman gently cradles him in her arms, whispering sweet nothings into his ear¡ªor what remains of it. It¡¯s a sight all too common in the Trinidad. And yet, the admiral refuses to evacuate the battleship. We are not out of the fight just yet, DeRyck told us in a meeting not long after the assault subsided, I want every available hand to assess the damage and assist with repairs. Vinnie and I were dispatched to the rear compartments, as instructed. Since we weren¡¯t sure of pressurized leaks, we had to wear protective Astro-suits along with the few other teams tasked with damage assessment. It would be no understatement to say that what we saw was a glimpse into hell itself. The horrors we saw made Vinnie and other personnel faint. How could humans do this to each other? I once thought rummaging for survivors, much less any attempts at assessing the damage. How inhuman do you have to be to kill and maim others without knowing the full intention of what you have done? Without so much as knowing what grief you have caused for those who have survived? It¡¯s one thing to participate in simulated naval games¡ªto lead polygonal ships to glory without so much as imaging the horror you subject your pixel sailors to. It¡¯s one thing to train in a war-game and shoot at each other with harmless guns¡ªaside from stings from getting shot at with pellets. Where each shot at the limb or your torso could be shrugged off¡ªnever the risk of death or getting permanently disabled. You don¡¯t think twice about your actions or your consequences¡ªit¡¯s all fictional. Whatever happens in either case¡ªsimulation or physical war-games¡ªit¡¯s something to learn from. To better prepare you for what¡¯s to come. And once you fool yourself into believing you are prepared for the real deal, it is nothing short of a rude awakening. It¡¯s a whole different experience¡ªsomething so surreal that I can only wonder how far we will go to wipe each other out for so-called self-preservation. The glimpses of what I saw in the obliterated compartments are manifestations of human insanity. I once remember how Vick talked about a documentary she saw years ago. About how we, as a species, have fought each other for millenniums over the littlest of things. And just a few centuries ago, humanity as a whole nearly obliterated itself along with Terra for reasons nobody knows. Yet, here we are, light years away from Terra. Continuing the tradition of warfare that our ancestors passed down each generation. And for what? To protect our loved ones in the name of democracy? To bring down divine punishment on those who have sinned? What good does any of our actions do here when our friends and families back home suffer under the heel of negligent suits in Terra? In Sydney, where the elite dine and enjoy their lives ignorantly blissful of the carnage unfolding across the galaxy? It¡¯s all revolting. It makes me want to grind my teeth into dust. My stomach churns at the disgust of our collective actions. It doesn¡¯t matter if we win or lose here; for the people who lived their entire lives only to be snuffed out in a matter of seconds, they will find no peace. But I know I can¡¯t languish about others misfortunes forever. All we can do is act in retribution for the losses we occurred; make the pirates pay for the ones they have slain. And all the while praying that the rest of us can survive and return home. But for now, we move forward; leaving behind the mess and heading for the bridge to give an after action report. ¡°Mmm , more than despicable, Vin, it¡¯s tragic, but¡­¡± I reply wryly and bring Vinnie close to me by the shoulder ¡°just like the Admiral said¡ªwe haven¡¯t met the same stardust fate. We¡¯re still more than capable of fighting.¡± Vinnie turns her flustered face with widened eyes ¡°Alexa, you agree with the admiral¡¯s decision? I was under the impression you¡ª¡± ¡°Want to pester him that we should retreat?¡± I cut her off with a scoff ¡°So many of our brethren have died already. And it pisses me off that the admiral and even Garofano have done nothing to prevent the destruction of so many of our squadrons. It¡¯s almost like they wanted to let them die!¡± With heavy breathing, I exhale through my nose ¡°it¡¯s almost like they want to weaken the colonial naval strength to preserve their own!¡­¡± Once the colonial government gets word of the events that unfold here¡ªonce my father gets wind of the destruction of the Ruthenian task-force he begrudgingly lent to us, there is no telling what hellhole fallout will unfold. It doesn¡¯t matter even if a victory is achieved here: relations between Terra and Vardini will never be the same. ¡°Alexa!¡± Vinnie cuts me off with a hush ¡°don¡¯t be so loud! People might get the wrong idea and jail you, you know?¡± Vinnie whispers harshly. Being so lost in my rambling, I didn¡¯t realize we were already in the bridge room. Some personnel stop to eye us, but once I come back to my senses and return glares, people quickly return to minding their own businesses. Do they do it because they know I am right, or do they simply want no trouble with the daughter of the Mad Dog of Ruthenia? Thankfully, it doesn¡¯t seem like any of them are middle or senior officers. Vinnie and I quickly ignore them and head down the flight of stairs to lower decks. We find a crowd of officers around the Admiral as he listens closely to a debriefing by some technicians. When DeRyck spots us, the mustached Admiral motions for us to come and the crowd gives salutes before opening a path in the gathering for the two of us. ¡°Sub-Lieutenant Descartes?¡± DeRyck politely asks with those brown calculating eyes of his ¡°the damage to our storage and engine compartments?¡± ¡°Sir,¡± I utter ¡°the engine and storage cabins are in bad shape, but given enough time we can expect the surviving crew to bring them back to operational levels. From what the other task members told me, it does seem most of our perishables rations have been lost. It does also appear that we lost more than half of our munition racks to the vacuums of space.¡± It¡¯s overwhelmingly daunting knowing even one of those missile containers could detonate from faulty wiring if they so much as bump into an asteroid¡ªor even another ship. I can only imagine if the pirate¡¯s projectiles didn¡¯t over-penetrate, every single one of us would have been instantly evaporated in violent infernos of well over millions of degrees Celsius. ¡°Our main turret is disabled, and several of our launch platforms are inoperable,¡± DeRyck remarks dryly. His eyes shift to his adjutants before looking back at me and Vinnie. ¡°The engine crew?¡± ¡°Over thirty killed and sixty more are in critical condition,¡± I mutter biting down on my bottom lip. Compared to the casualties here, it pales in comparison to the whole colonial squadrons lost to the pirate scum. ¡°At least twenty suffered minor injuries but can resume their duties¡­ and a dozen more are in vegetable states,¡± when I finish there is a spell of silence over the crowd. Several officers look away and many clutch their caps to their chests. Vinnie is right. This is despicable. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. ¡°How unfortunate,¡± DeRyck agrees with my thoughts with a pained face ¡°it will be strenuous finding capable manpower to replenish losses¡­ I had hoped for more positivity, but it can¡¯t be helped.¡± When DeRyck finishes and just as he dismisses us, an adjutant runs up to the group with a panting salute. ¡°News from Commodore Cope that most of his ship¡¯s sick bays are at full capacity!¡± The adjutant recites from a slip of paper ¡°Cope suggests Commander Brechkosky may be able to withdrawal some ships to act as hospital wards.¡± I turn my attention to the admiral, who strokes his curled mustache. ¡°Brechkosky¡­ he¡¯s too close to the salient¡ªand I need all ships we need for that space to spearhead the salient,¡± DeRyck looks behind him at the tactical map. On it, a complex situation unfolds at the ballooning salient amid the fierce asteroid shower. Many of the holographic formations flicker in and out owing to the fierce jamming occurring in that space zone and the unstable weather. ¡°It might cause some confusion among the troops if I pull out any right before the offense begins, and I want to avoid adding any more fuel to the chaos¡­¡± DeRyck heaves a stressed sigh ¡°both the injured and offense will have to wait for the arrival of the supply fleet.¡± The air gets tensely quiet. Everyone is left speechless at the Admiral¡¯s rather whimsical decision. ¡°Admiral¡ªyou¡ª¡± I start grinding my teeth before I know it. But before I can get another word in, I am cut off when someone from behind leaps forward at the Admiral. ¡°You intend to leave our wounded out to rot?!¡± The man bellows, clenching DeRyck by the collar ¡°men who are clinging by a thread of life¡ªand you want to deny them immediate medical attention?! Are you out of your goddamn mind?!¡± DeRyck, who remains unfazed, calmly clasps his aggressor by the wrists. The Admiral¡¯s mouth opens several times but remains speechless. All the while several of the adjutants attempt to pry DeRyck from the assailer. ¡°Perhaps I should kill you here and now¡ª and have you meet all those killed in your name!¡± ¡°Enough out of you! Take him away to the brig!¡± One of the adjutants shouts in DeRyck¡¯s stead. The excessive shouting spewing from the man becomes fainter as he is dragged out of the bridge by several bystanders. Still in shock, I look back at the Admiral and the others giving him words of reassurance. He looks composed¡ªif a little troubled. He pinches his nose bridge, and with a mountainous sigh walks away from us to lean over the railing. Vinnie and I exchange puzzled looks and join our admiral at the railing. DeRyck doesn¡¯t say a word or pay us any attention, but merely strokes his mustache several times in contemplation. ¡°Perhaps a few ships could suffice¡­¡± he murmurs glancing over at us ¡°that was a liaison officer from a Ruthenian cruiser¡­ he had departed when its commander rushed forward to death. Perhaps he feels I am responsible for not only their deaths¡ªbut also the men here, even though he has no strong connection with them,¡± DeRyck faces his gaze back to the bridge ¡°and I am sure many feel his sentiment. But lamenting to you two serves no purpose.¡± ¡°Admiral¡­¡± I express softly, and Vinnie places a hand on my shoulder. When I look back at her, she looks sorrowful. From the corner of my eye, I see a man leap from his seat and reel around to face us with a grave look. ¡°Admiral DeRyck! I¡¯m detecting an exchange of artillery in the same space zone as Captain Schloppe¡¯s squadrons and an unidentified fleet more than eight-hundred kilometers in front of it!¡± If memory serves me right, Schloppen is at the helm of the MSN Pixoyal. It¡¯s one of the battlecruisers leading the squadrons sent as additional protection for the supply fleet. ¡°I¡¯m getting several incoming distress signals from Schloppen¡¯s fleet!¡± It¡¯s a fanatical shout from the communications officer, sitting across from the radar technician. The three of us stiffen in place at the railing. The hairs on my neck stand up at the urgency of the duo¡¯s voices. ¡°Patch him through,¡± admiral DeRyck sternly orders. We exchange glances before looking at the mainframe screen. But nothing shows up other than static. When we look at the communication officer for answers, he only returns a look of horror. His mouth lies gaping, trying to formulate words that never come. The headphones press closer to his ear as the man tries to make out the situation with the Pixoyal task-force. He blinks several times before clearing his throat. ¡°Signal lost with the Pixoyal,¡± the communication officer declares with uncertainty in his voice ¡°the ship second-in-command¡­ the Mallapampa¡­ has visual confirmation that the Pixoyal has been sunk¡ªall hands have been lost.¡± I take a few steps back in a daze, trying to take the information in. An attack in our rear? That¡¯s practically impossible. There hasn¡¯t been any detection of ships slipping through¡ªall the pirate ships are contained in the asteroid field. With our overwhelming numbers, there¡¯s no way any ships could slip through. Even with the poor signals coming in, we would¡¯ve at least noticed something¡­ But then it occurs to me: out of all the ships that we keep communications with, we haven¡¯t been able to contact the southern fleet at all. The one that was pursuing the Kafraiya pirate ships. Even as the fleet pushed southward to link up with it, there were reports of a greater number of ships joining the fray. And yet¡­ ¡°Mallapampa has visual confirmation of the unidentified host rapidly approaching them!¡± A stray clump of asteroids? No, that can¡¯t be right. We don¡¯t even know if the ship was sunk from the rear or not! ¡°Put it on the screen,¡± DeRyck utters as he glances back at me. Everyone waits with bated breath; our eyes are glued to the mainframe screen. The air of choking suspense leaves us with anticipation for a truth that none of us want to realize. None of us want to have our worst fears come to fruition. And so, we stare at the mainframe hoping for the damning revelation. A rather blurry video feed appears on screen. It is rather unstable and cuts to static every few seconds. Despite the quality, one can still make out the subject matter. After a few seconds of letting it sink in, there are gasps one after the other. And like an uneventful quicksand, we are slowly pulled into despair. A sleek, obsidian ship with a design so minimalist it leaves me breathless. With its intrigue coating, it practically blends in with the cosmic seas¡ªthe perfect camouflage if there ever was one. If it were not for the subtle trinkets of reflective stars, I would¡¯ve had a difficult time even noticing it at first. And behind this mystical ship are several formations numbering in the hundreds. The horror that so many avoided detection makes my skin crawl¡ªand it suddenly feels awfully cold in here. How could this have happened?! ¡°The Castelforte¡­¡± admiral DeRyck whispers ¡°the Madame Scarface has made her move,¡± it¡¯s muttered with such sincerity that I cannot help but shudder. DeRyck pinches his nose bridge several times before uttering an agonizing sigh. ¡°Give the order for commodore Cope to initiate the assault to push through the salient. We will crush the pirate force once and for all. This will be operating on the premise that the supply fleet has been sunk¡ªwe can expect no further rearmament. If the enemy tries to fall back to the Cluster colonies, then we will pursue them at all costs. Let nobody escape. ¡°Have the commanders on the flanks withdrawal a few squadrons and redirect their firepower at the Castelforte¡¯s formation¡­ relay a message to Rear Admiral Garofano as well. He will direct his resources to the main star of the show, as well.¡± And with that, DeRyck turns his back to the bridge and faces Vinnie and me. With a trembling hand, the grim-faced Admiral adjusts his cap. And after a few more deep breaths he clears his throat and utters one last thing before departing. ¡°The Scarface is right where I want them to be¡­ I¡¯ll settle this rematch once and for all.¡± Chapter 67: Memories of Toscana | Rouen, the Ashes on the Glacial Blaze
THE CASTLEFORTE
¡°FEUER!¡± With the profound utterance of this declaration, our foe faces an immense discharge of weaponized willpower. Due to the resulting back-blasts, however, it is difficult at first to assess the damage because of our visual feed getting overwhelmed by smoke. As the Castelforte marches forward through the endless mist, I can only clench my arms in anticipation. While waiting for the Castelforte to regain proper visualization of the battlefield, I glance over at Brutus, who certainly does not share my excitement. ¡°Oh? Are you concerned about something, Brutus?¡± I ask calmly. He returns the stare while stroking his chin. He must have been tense until now, as he eases up if only a little. ¡°It¡¯s something like that,¡± Brutus answers, tapping his arm. ¡°If I have to guess, I suppose you were unsure about firing from this range?¡± The enemy formation is no more than six-hundred kilometers away from us. They would have very little ample time to react given they were not expecting an enemy fleet so close in the vicinity¡ªlet alone in this spacial zone of all places. This is merely punishing them for letting their guard down. I cannot say I could relate to the ill-fortune they have brought upon themselves. However, Brutus has every right to be concerned¡ªjust as he always has been until now. Frankly, our chance at success would be far lower if they were in an alert phase. They still don¡¯t know our exact location¡­ at least if I have to guess. So even if they were by chance shifted to defensive positions, they would have just as much difficulty maneuvering out of the trajectory of a swarm of projectiles as they are now. ¡°This probably doesn¡¯t need to be said, Madame, but there¡¯s no turning back now,¡± the oaf says dryly ¡°we¡¯ve effectively swung a bat to the hornet¡¯s nest¡ª¡± a furrow of his brow ¡°more of a poke with an overly long stick, I¡¯d reckon. I¡¯m slightly concerned that all we were capable of doing is alerting the enemy to our presence and allow for them to react more accordingly. If we have gotten a little closer¡­¡± ¡°True,¡± I add as I massage my cheek ¡°perhaps I have¡­ jumped the gun, in striking at the Metropol fleet. If I had waited a little longer, I could have delivered a more swift killing blow than just the sinking of a battleship or two. I d no doubt that I could¡¯ve denied the enemy knowledge of our declared presence just as I¡¯ve done at L¨¹beck and with the southern fleet. ¡°But hindsight is just that¡­ the poke was a good one, but maybe a close-up swing with a bat would¡¯ve benefited me with a more decisive outcome?¡± I muse with a stroke of my chin. ¡°Don¡¯t fuss over it too hard, Madame,¡± Brutus replies ¡°frankly, it¡¯s a tough call for anyone to make¡ªeven for the likes of you. There is no telling how the dice may have fallen.¡± I give a nod at Brutus¡¯s words, and to my surprise, it¡¯s not long before the Castelforte breaks through the dull mist into the open. When our sensors finally clear up, I squint at the visual feed off to the side and breath a sigh of relief. ¡°Maybe you were right to trust your gut,¡± the oaf remarks with mild amusement ¡°they¡¯re still scrambling around like headless chickens even after everything is said and done!¡± The fleet¡ªor really what remains of the formation¡ªis in such chaos that it¡¯s difficult to draw any real opinion about what is happening. Ships are trying to advance, and then there are ships trying to reorganize into defensive positions. It even seems like some are attempting to withdrawal. In any case, if I¡¯m not careful, I might fall into the trap of once again overestimating my opponent. ¡°Your orders, Madame?¡± A subordinate asks as he approaches us with a chest salute. ¡°We will continue to advance at max speed. The quicker we close distance and cut the ships down the better,¡± I remark ¡°we need to sink them before the Metropolitans can be reinforced by additional ships¡ªI want to clear a path to the Trinidad. Securing our flanks as it stands would be an impossible task,¡± I pause for a moment to think ¡°with that said, pass on to Sergi and the other ships to maintain cohesion¡ªit¡¯s risky, but it¡¯s best we don¡¯t divide our firepower. Any ships that stray off risk getting captured or even destroyed. ¡°With that said, the ship lieutenants may fire at will. There¡¯s no point in concentrating firepower now. We will hardly be able to put a dent in numbers once the Metropolitans are capable of counterattacking. So long as we maintain pressure through potshots we will be able to maintain the momentum.¡± ¡°As a precaution, have the fleet spread out to avoid collateral damage,¡± Brutus chimes in, and we both exchange glances. The thought didn¡¯t cross my mind so I¡¯m thankful that this oaf can catch my oversight. Seeing that I have silently agreed with Brutus, the subordinate finalizes the instructions with a courteous understood scurries off to deliver on orders. Slight goosebumps make me worry about what might have happened if Brutus didn¡¯t think to interject with the order. I can only imagine there would be a lot more losses if our dimwit lieutenants so much as mirrored the Metropolitan¡¯s mistakes of clumping units together. I do have faith that my men are above average in competence but unfortunately, I am no mind-reader; who knows if my men are letting the luck get to their heads? Though, if there is one issue I have it¡¯s that by spreading the fleet out we risk increasing courier shuttle travel time between ships. But it could just be a baseless worry. As we march closer to the enemy formation, we endure the first shots of counter-battery. With careful maneuvering, the majority of our ships are more than capable of withstanding the brunt of missile attacks. Although there are a few ships that were not fortunate and therefore sunk. For most, all hands have been lost; but one of my lackeys surmise that a few managed to escape in time in shuttles. ¡°Madame, should I have a few ships in the rear slow down to pick up the survivors?¡± A rather lanky subordinate asks. I bite down on my thumb in ponder. To slow down the cohesive force to pick up baggage, or to abandon them in pursuit of our goal? It¡¯s a painful decision, but it cannot be helped. Sergi or Brutus would certainly not approve, but there is no time now to sacrifice the momentum and pick up on other¡¯s carelessness. ¡°No, signal for them to withdrawal to Olga¡¯s positions: she¡¯ll be able to retrieve them once she finishes her business with the auxiliary fleet,¡± this is of course assuming she manages to accomplish that in time. But I have full faith in Olga¡¯s ability to take on a rather small escort fleet. ¡°Failing that, they will simply become Federation prisoners,¡± I say flatly with a grimacing expression. The subordinate clears his throat and blinks owlishly. But perhaps knowing his place there is no protesting and he merely excuses himself to relay orders. ¡°I would say that is heartless of you,¡± Brutus says from a nearby console ¡°but rescuing them would mean surmounting losses, correct?¡± ¡°You can look at it that way, yes,¡± comes my reply ¡°any stragglers spending time retrieving the shuttles will be exposed to encirclement themselves.¡± When we both look at the strategic map, there are small blimps just on the edge of the map from one edge of the asteroid belt; namely from the vicinity of Jean¡¯s positions. First, there is one, then three, and then several more. Those blimps could easily consist of at least two squadrons. Since they are too far to offer any meaningful support to the formation I¡¯m engaging now, I¡¯d predict their officers might ideally want to flank us. Most of them seem to be about eight-hundred kilometers away, maybe less. It¡¯s only a matter of time before the Trinidad high command orders more ships to break off from the front-lines to counter-attack us. But it could be at least another hour or two before any squadrons reach the skirmish here. And an hour is all I need to break through the relief convoy fleet heading for Olga. So long as the Metropolitan headquarters pulls more ships from the front-lines, it could mean Richter and them will have an easier time to do a counter-attack of their own. Or at least I would hope so. I imagine even with the ease of pressure, Jung still wouldn¡¯t have any spare ships to afford any offense. Unless of course, he uses the decoy ships as a ploy; I can only surmise that the fact the decoy fleet seems marginally smaller than before is because he used them in some way or another when he launched a strike on the Trinidad. Come to think of it, I haven¡¯t heard from Jung until now. And even at that, his fleet doesn¡¯t appear to be doing any major undertakings at the moment. Has Jung grown too cautious over the years? Or perhaps he is just waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike? Knowing the man, he wouldn¡¯t simply sit down after one failed attempt at the Trinidad ¡ªhis pride wouldn¡¯t allow it. Would Jung chance launching an offense into the Metropolitan lines? Or perhaps he might flow south to cut off the salient? Jung¡¯s intention¡¯s aside, the Federation contingent that I exchange fire with has hardly budged from their positions. Perhaps I was naive to think they would make the obvious choice of retreating¡ªin this case, they don¡¯t have anywhere to withdrawal. For all intents, their back is to the sea¡ªthe asteroid shower pelting away amid the ongoing battle occurring there. Not to mention the vulnerable asset that is the Trinidad and its screen of ships. But the more we butcher them, the more I¡¯m left to wonder: why? Do they intend to stand their ground here for the intention of halting my advance? I can only wonder what goes on in their minds as they sink one by one, hoping to buy time for reinforcements to envelop me. I find it rather surprising they would not slowly make any rear-guard actions and retreat to the safety net that is the flagship screens. But as more Metropolitan ships sink in the intense back-and-forth exchange, the more I notice that the Ruthenian warships are executing a rear-guard action¡ªwithout the Metropolitans in tow. Which I find rather surprising, considering the colonists would be far more likely to make a suicidal frontal charge. I would¡¯ve wished for that course of action, but regrettably, competence comes from the strangest sources. Even as the distance closes between the opposing contingent and I, the Ruthenians unflinchingly stand back even as I wither down what remains of the Metropolitan elements. It¡¯s hard to tell what happened before my arrival, but judging from all the colonial remains we passed by before this started, it could be karma for leaving their kind out in the sun. And that can¡¯t help but make me scoff; even when both groups are pitted together against me, grudges run deep even when both of their blood is spilled by my hands. However shaky the relation may be between the two elements, it¡¯s an opportunity I seek to fully capitalize on. But one thing is for sure; no matter how many I butcher, it does little to level the playing field in terms of firepower. It doesn¡¯t particularly matter if this element is obliterated or not. It¡¯s akin to an enormous stack of handkerchiefs; I could pour countless battles of wine over it, but there will always be additional layers to soak up the losses. I can¡¯t think of this as a battle of attrition¡ªor rather I¡¯m unwilling to do so. No amount of inflicted losses will compel the Federation to seek peace and withdrawal. The enemies that soak up my finite flow of poured liquid will merely pale in comparison to the countless bottles of liquid that the Metropolitans have at their disposal. And as I stare at the strategic map, it¡¯s only evident that those bottles of wine loom ever so near to my puny stack of handkerchiefs that I call my manpower. ¡°Madame!¡± Clyde runs up to me before the good-for-nothing Bowen can cause me irritation ¡°we¡¯ve taken notice of a large contingent emerging from the center¡­¡± ¡°Ships from the center?¡± I utter trying to keep my cool. Those could either be reinforcements from the Federation¡¯s headquarters or even elements dispatched from the battlefield¡ªfrom the salient? No¡­ surely the Metropolitan admiral wouldn¡¯t overcommit that much to me at the cost of possibly losing his breakthrough, would he? ¡°Yes, but not only that but Bowen and I are reason to believe that there is also a medium-size force coming from the south,¡± at those words I reel around to face the strategic map. And to my dismay, Clyde¡¯s remarks are correct. I¡¯ve been anticipating that the Federation behemoth would shift its weight around, but I failed to take into account just how many squadrons they would tactically relocate. ¡°Madame¡­¡± Brutus steps in with a concerned look ¡°with regards to the flanks, spreading our ships out is most likely out of the question¡­ but would it still be worth sending a distress signal to Miss Olga?¡± When he finishes, I heave a giant sigh. ¡°You are right on your assumptions. Rushing forward into this forlorn hope is suicide. But directing our firepower in several directions is even more suicidal, and thus I won¡¯t consider it¡ªat least not for now,¡± another distressing exhale ¡°I don¡¯t want to admit it but I have no way out of this one. Unlike Jung, I don¡¯t latch on to senseless things like pride. But with that said, sending a distress signal would be the ideal thing to do¡ªbut there is the chance that the Metropolitans will pick up on the urgency¡­¡± ¡°Madame¡­¡± Brutus whispers with a strained face. I pinch the scarred part of my nose and release a pained scoff. ¡°The risk far outweighs the benefits. But even so, you have my permission to inform the communication operator of transmitting a distress signal to Olga,¡± I reply while pinching my nasal ridge some more. As Brutus leaves, I am left to wonder if such a signal will even reach Olga in the first place. But so long as she does¡ªeven if the message arrives too late¡ªat least she may know about the rapidly deteriorating situation I found myself in. Was a flanking maneuver simply a bad execution? Or was it a good idea undermined by a paranoid high-command? Would I have been better off simply charging headfirst into the fray, perhaps assaulting upstream after the southern contingent was defeated? Who knows how that battle could have unfolded. But there is no use dwelling on it now; perhaps generations from now armchair historians will dissect every nook and cranny of the battle that unfolded here. As the threat of encirclement looms overhead, my fleet continues to obliterate the helpless center formation. The Metropolitans in particular are now unable to reliably fire barrages because of the closed distance. Their dwindling numbers are almost the same as their Ruthenian counterparts, if even less than that. The colonist elements must have realized that stopping the tide dead in its tracks isn¡¯t working and begin to steadily give ground at a quicker pace, and take up a U-shaped position in the process. It¡¯s not long before the see-saw ends in our favor, and we unleash one last close-range of lethal shots that more or less neutralize the combat effectiveness of the Metropolitan element of the relief escort fleet. Our ships rapidly speed through those who signal for surrender: but unlike my usual handling of them, I¡¯ve decided to grant them mercy by sparing them. Under normal circumstances, I would have either destroyed their ships outright or drafted the ships after disposing of their crew. But regrettably, it¡¯s an opportunity I will have to let slide. Even knowing the fact that they will eventually turn around to rejoin the fight hangs on my mind but there are more pressing matters at hand. It hardly matters if they die or not, they are merely another cog in this mammoth I am facing. The only thing I gain to lose is precious munitions and what specks of time I have left. As we venture through the shattered remains of the Metropolitan ships, something doesn¡¯t stand right with me with the way the Ruthenians are behaving. Perhaps it¡¯s the way they are formating their rearguard action, or maybe it¡¯s the speed they are advancing. It almost seems like there¡¯s no urgency¡ªno sense of desperation. It doesn¡¯t even make sense that they retreat in a partial circular motion and at such a slow speed for me to catch up to. I pause to gaze at the strategic map. Then shoot Brutus a glance, who returns the look with puzzlement. ¡°Er¡­ is something the matter, Madame?¡± He asks, avoiding my glare by looking at the projected map. A rear-guard action? It¡¯s rather uncharacteristic of them to be performing that, isn¡¯t it? Why exactly would they retreat without the Federation baggage? Yes, the two parties hate each other, but in hindsight, if they wanted to win this battle they would need to work together even if it meant putting aside their clashing differences. My eyes dart all over the map in search of an answer that seemingly appears obvious. Have I been looking at this fight the wrong way? I accuse my men of having their heads in the clouds when it comes to overconfidence, but could it be I am behaving hypocritically? The rest of the Federation fleet¡ªthat is, those that are currently about to envelop us¡ªare a few steps away from firing at us from all sides. Even the Ruthenians should be aware of the implications in the redundancy of retreating despite the odds being in their favor. With a stinging face-palm, I realize the harsh truth: there¡¯s no point in retreating when you are winning. I believed the illusion that I am winning, but it¡¯s quite the contrary¡ªI am merely prolonging the slide into defeat. I didn¡¯t win the engagement here, I am a fool to believe that I have the edge over the Ruthenians. This see-saw didn¡¯t end; they are simply biding time to deliver the killing blow. Simply put, this isn¡¯t a rear-guard action¡ªit¡¯s to draw me further into encirclement. And in my moment of being foolishly blindsided, it worked. ¡°I want all ships to decelerate and reverse movement, now!¡± I nearly strain my throat ¡°the colonials aren¡¯t retreating¡ª they¡¯re bracing for a frontal charge!¡± And almost on cue, with my eyes planted to the strategic map; the digital blocks representing the Ruthenian formation abruptly stop in place¡ªand then advance. But before they do, they unleash a fierce barrage that rips through our ranks and sinks ships by their dozen. Have I been had again? For a brief moment, the grinning blonde ensign appears in my mind, but I shake my head to snap out of it. No, this time I was able to predict it. I can prevent another mishappening. But then that begs the question: have I been able to predict it in time? Latching onto the railing in light of the Castelforte¡¯s abrupt stop, I watch with bated breath as most of the fleet manages to save face in the nick of time and reverse course. But to my horror, the order fails to be relayed to several ships that continue to doggedly pursue the colonists. I watch in total helplessness as many are cut down by the subsequent enemy fire and sink to the all-encompassing Rouen sea. ¡°What the hell are our couriers doing?!¡± I angrily exclaim while rubbing my neck. Upon realizing the uniform look of horror across the bridge room, I stiffen up and avert my gaze amid the guilt running down my spine. Shouting isn¡¯t going to solve anything. That is something I should very well be aware of. All it does is instill fear, and fear is not something that I want to rule by example. Lashing out at others for my shortcomings is unbecoming of me; one look at Brutus is enough to speak for itself. If Olga were here, she¡¯d be disappointed in my attitude, too. What¡¯s done is done. Valuable ships have been lost because of communicational error¡ªthere were merely shuttles out that either could not have relayed the message in time or were caught in the barrage and died. As tragic as that may be, it just can¡¯t be helped. But that matter aside, the close-call managed to reach most, and if I happened to be a second earlier then all hope would have been lost. It would seem as though my prediction about the Ruthenians were on the mark as well. The Ruthenian counter-attack begins to unfold, but they perhaps find that their bold attempt at engaging us at close-range goes up in smoke before their very eyes. I can only imagine the horrified looks on the staff officer¡¯s faces when they realize the tables have turned on them. For them, it is but a mere fleeting moment as more colonial ships meet the similar fate of those they sunk. It¡¯s not long before the Ruthenian counter-attack crumbles. Most meet their fate by sinking into the vacuums of space. Others attempt to turn-tail and make good on genuinely retreating, but my men are quick to cut down stragglers like the distasteful cowards they are. At this point, I would relax in a brief moment of celebration¡ªbut the sinister movements of both reinforcing Metropolitan formations give me no time to even sigh in relief. Glancing at the tactical map, it¡¯s clear enough to me that they are now in optimal firing range¡ªand because there are no allies left for risk of friendly-fire, they have more than enough of a dual-sided killing field. And there is always the issue of reinforcements that were flowing in from either the Trinidad¡¯s protective screen or the front-lines themselves. I don¡¯t want to admit it, but we are far from being out of the woods just yet. Though, with the colonial ships all but dealt with, it¡¯s only a matter of time before we crush the inferior quantity of the Federation mammoth. Or at least I would hope so. ¡°Onward! I want all remaining ships to resume advancing at max speeds,¡± I declare to the bridge ¡°I don¡¯t want another second to waste. If you have to communicate with signal systems, then so be it!¡± I shoot a glance at the strategic map¡ªboth Metropolitan fleets were closing in faster than I expected¡ªI can fully expect a complete slaughter if all three manage to congregate with the right timing. The total strength of all three seems to be still larger than the ships under me at the moment. Biting on my thumb I am left to wonder if it was the right idea to give ships to Richter and Olga. All it means is beating the clock by at least breaking through the new center formation. That way, we can avoid destruction by using the Metropolitan ships as deterrence against firing on their own. So far, it doesn¡¯t seem like the Federation is willing to fire on their own¡ªeven if it means taking out a highly valued target such as myself. Soon after, the remnants of my fleet reach full acceleration once again and begin to engage the enemy fleet in front of us. And just like their allies before them, the contingent shifts to a defensive stance, but it¡¯s one that comes too late in their case, dooming many to becoming spacial debris at Rouen. The short-lived skirmish devolves into an amateurish rear-guard retreat. But even that is shaky at best, and the more pressure I apply to them, the more their morale plummets, resulting in many attempting to rout. It¡¯s almost too good to be true. Simon once told me it¡¯s wise to trust your instincts. But just this once it doesn¡¯t feel right. As I watch the Federations cower before me, I am only left to wonder: is this another layer of deception? A trick to instill yet another false of victory and use it as leverage to deliver a decisive killing blow? But the state of the Federation contingent before me seems so genuine. Would they risk total annihilation if it meant hoping the same ploy would work twice? While ponderously rubbing my cheek scar, I glare at the overlay strategic map; if Miss Schwarzenberger was present, would she have realized the fruitlessness of fighting the Scarface head-on, and perhaps concentrated firepower when I reached the Trinidad¡¯s layers of escorts? A lure to the Trinidad will mean a confrontation with the nucleus of the armada¡­ I can only picture the power of a cornered beast that is the Trinidad once I get into range of it. Then, would it be beneficial to attempt a flanking maneuver and find a weakness in the outer elements of the screen? It could work, but¡­ after Jung¡¯s seemingly bold attempt at a decisive strike, I can only surmise that the Federation headquarters would want to tighten their lines to ensure nothing gets through. But even so¡­ A sudden illumination of the bridge room catches me off guard. With a glance at the windows, I can make out in time several of our ships going out in blazes of unfortunate glory. But from the way most sink, it appears to be not from the front but the sides. And the realization dawns on me that the Federation achieved their goal of a partial encirclement: we¡¯re now sitting ducks in a brutal killing field. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. But it doesn¡¯t have to be that way. We are still very much a phantom force. All the Federation can do is pray and hope that their missiles hit their intended targets. At best, they might miss and potentially target the other fleet by accident. But I won¡¯t deny that there will be some losses. ¡°You have been looking pale for a while, Madame,¡± Brutus states bringing me back to reality ¡°you know you don¡¯t have to shoulder all the responsibility yourself¡ª¡± he jabs at his chest ¡°I¡¯m all ears for you, for whichever you may need to reflect any ideas off me.¡± I nod at Brutus¡¯s kind gesture but only can afford to release a heavy reply. ¡°I¡¯ve been contemplating just how inept the Federation is. Their overall structure is intimidating as it is enormous. They are capable of performing admirable stunts, and yet¡­¡± with a caress of my cheek I frown ¡°with one door I kick down, there is only another, and so on. How many flimsy obstacles must I knockdown to achieve a flimsy victory? The Trinidad¡¯s shell¡­¡± I utter trailing off. ¡°It¡¯s nothing less short of distressing,¡± Brutus replies laconically ¡°but if the Feds are not capable of withstanding our momentum, what makes you think they won¡¯t be pressed into asking for a ceasefire?¡± ¡°The Federation¡­ issuing a call for a ceasefire?¡± I tap my cheek, grimacing at the slight tinge of pain, ¡°do you truly believe they would negotiate with scum and villainy?¡± Brutus says nothing and merely sags his shoulders. It¡¯s a far-fetched idea¡ªfantasy even¡­ at least that¡¯s what I want to tell myself. I don¡¯t want to shoot down Brutus¡¯s suggestion so rashly. Perhaps there is merit to enforcing a ceasefire if the conditions are met? In that case, if the situation allows for it, it could be done. As the Castelforte along with its host tramples through the shredded remains of the butchered foe, we come under increased scrutiny from not just the tightening encirclement, but from the outer and mid-layer of the defensive fleet protecting the Trinidad. There are so many in-depth firing lines that I find it momentarily breath-taking. This is truly what I would expect of Federation doctrine, but perhaps there is a hint of crippling overspecialization. A fact that I feel has been cemented all too well with the previous local engagements. I likened the armada as being backed into a corner with nowhere to run unless they desire to wade into the harsh torrent of the asteroid shower. If I squint hard enough, I can make out intense flashes of radiating lights on the opposite end of the asteroid belt. Is it possible Richter and Jung have been pushed out of the asteroid belt already? If so, it would surely mean the Federation might mill more men around to engage me. ¡°Clyde reports numerous sightings of new formations joining the battlefield from the asteroid-side,¡± Brutus solemnly announces as I hover over the holographic tactical map. The closer we get to just the outer parameter of just the first section of defense, the more brutal my fleet takes a beating. These losses are anything but sustainable. Frankly, I want to believe that it simply doesn¡¯t justify the costs of penetrating their lines of defense¡ªeven just their first outer lines. No matter how much kinetic force we throw back, it¡¯s as if the ships we destroy¡ªsometimes by daisy chains of explosions due to the bizarre concentration of ships¡ªis simply not enough to cause a dent anywhere. Since the Trinidad is more or less in a circular shell, they are more than willing to tactically maneuver whole squadrons facing the asteroid belt, as if content about an assault not originating from there. From the looks of things, it seems that the Federation lines are rather quick in adapting to the situation. With each layer of ships I thin out, the Metropol troops don¡¯t seem to move into vacant spots. Rather, they replenish starting from the back while maintaining a steady reverse traction to give the illusion that not only are they continuing to widen the gap, but they are making it easier to reinforce depleted lines with shortened distances. With this tactic though, it does seem as though they are not only slowly pulling more ships from their positions facing the asteroid-belt but pressing harder against the outskirts of the asteroid belt the further they keep stepping back. This exposes the Trinidad to greater danger from both sides but mostly from the asteroid fighting in particular. I would so much as say that if Jung is waiting for his bold chance at striking again¡­ I feel as though now would be the time. But with each passing moment, I¡¯m convinced it simply won¡¯t happen. Or rather, neither Richter nor Jung can afford a bold counter-attack. For all I know, the salient could have evolved into an encirclement by now. The Federation certainly has the resources at their disposal to undertake a two-front battle. Just the fact that additional Federation reinforcements are coming in from the asteroid battle is enough to tell me my impression of them being pressured is not all that impactive. They are more than capable of moving men and mat¨¦riel around at will. The bombardments all around us do paralyze the fleet, and it seems as though our momentum has been halted for the first time. By the time we reach the first layer of the screen defensive lines, there is so much carnage that it seems even the Metropolitans lack morality in launching panic barrages even when there is the risk of friendly-fire. In the entanglement that ensures, there are several close calls of missiles miraculously missing our ship by what Olga may describe as a skin of our teeth. ¡°Madame,¡± Brutus utters abruptly ¡°given the Castelforte¡¯s position at the forefront, I suggest we slow down and let the other ships take the lead,¡± he says ¡°our ship and the Hugh are the only ones with transponders. If we recklessly expose ourselves¡ªif you go down¡ªthe Mafia dies with you,¡± he finishes with a stern look. I turn back to give the oaf a faint smile, ¡°my, what an insightful revelation,¡± I reply warmly ¡°if I didn¡¯t know any better, Brutus, you would want to throw Sergi under the bus¡­ but humor aside, it¡¯s not an idea I¡¯m opposed to. Though if I have to say, it doesn¡¯t particularly matter where the Castelforte is located¡ªwe are encircled after all. I think it¡¯s rather cowardly to hide behind my men, but that said do feel free to let the navigator know to slow down and signal to the other ships to take lead.¡± Brutus is correct, however. If the Castelforte so much endures a minor scratch, it could spur a wildfire of fear and lead to the crippling collapse of cohesion. Even if I were to declare my safety in such an event, it would most likely fall on deaf ears. I doubt even Sergi would be able to maintain discipline in this chaos. The lack of transponders and the carnage ensuing around us is rather troublesome indeed. At Brutus¡¯s suggestion, the Castelforte decelerates briefly to allow for the Hugh along with a majority of the herd to pass through. To my mild surprise, however, the Federation is quick to adapt to this and attempts to close in from all directions, with a fierce slug-fest that decimates many pirates and Metropol ships alike. Regardless the fleet manages to successfully pierce the outer wall of ship defenses and steadily advance to the middle layer of screen ships. For a while, it does seem as though the momentum picks up. But it sadly is only for a brief stint. The assault slows down to a crawl, as we are forced into nearly suicidal close-range combat with ships that are capable of causing a chain reaction of nuclear holocausts. I consider myself lucky that there happens to be almost no Ruthenians left. The bloodbath that would ensue if they participated would be astronomical. But even without the colonials, the pressure we face only increases as more Federation ships trickle in from the Asteroid belt. Does the Metropolitan admiral lack morality? Does his strategy consist of nothing but utilizing his ships as cannon fodder for the sole purpose of wearing me down¡ªof depleting our reserves of munitions? It¡¯s despicable¡ªit¡¯s astonishingly despicable how these numb-skulls lack any sense of self-preservation. If the blonde ensign were present, she would be equally¡ªif not cosmically ¡ªinfuriated if she saw the massacre that her comrades subject themselves to. But this is what the Federation commander and I have committed ourselves to. It just can¡¯t be helped. If things at L¨¹beck had gone my way, none of this would need to happen. Seven-hundred kilometers. That¡¯s the rough estimate of the seas of ships that divide me and the Trinidad, give or take. At this distance, I could very well order the fleet to unleash a desperate barrage on the Trinidad, but there¡¯s no telling any of them will find their intended mark¡ªthe Trinidad would still have ample time to maneuver. Failing that, one of its escorts would take the blow for it¡ªsince that is their purpose of the Metropolitan screen doctrine. And for better or for worse, we don¡¯t have the same nuclear munitions as the Federations do¡ªmost of ours are simply explosive warheads. So there¡¯s no way that we could rely on luck and hope for a devastating explosive radius. As I gaze at the overcrowded strategic overlay full of blue Metropolitan blips, I can only wonder if using our precious ammunition would be worth the risk. Despite our rearmament at the L¨¹beck Clusters, there¡¯s no telling if we¡¯re already in a similar boat as Jung may be¡ªany moment now, our fleet will have to resort to ramming. Would it even be worth plowing through the horde of Federations just to kill the admiral, in the bleak hope that it will compel his next-in-command to sue for peace? I pull out the crimson-flaked handkerchief that Brutus offered me some time ago. As I twirl it over in my hands, I can only wonder just how much more drops of blood I will need to achieve as ridiculous as a victory. What would victory be in this case? ¡°Madame! I¡¯m receiving a faint signal from the corridor!¡± The cries of the communications operator reel me around to face the strategic map. The corridor? My heart racing, I frantically scan the map for the emerging guess from the corridor. And once I locate the single blue blip with the all-too-familiar ship identification code, I cut loose a long sigh. ¡°Do we hold out for Olga? Or perhaps would breaking out be a better alternative?¡± Brutus asks in a rather hushed tone. A breakout? Now? ¡°Don¡¯t be absurd, Brutus!¡± I retort ¡°we¡¯ll continue to advance and ride off of Olga¡¯s momentum once she arrives.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t think Olga¡¯s force would be better suited for a flanking maneuver?¡± He asks, stroking his chin. ¡°There¡¯s no time for elaborate maneuvering now, the Federation won¡¯t let anything in or out,¡± I grimace ¡°if Olga can provide an opening for us¡­ I can get closer to the Trinidad,¡± Brutus looks at me in awe, but says nothing. Six-hundred kilometers. Five hundred fifty kilometers. I hold my breath and listen to the sound of my heart-beating in between glaring at the Taiga¡¯s warpath and the last dense line of the Trinidad¡¯s defenses. As we advance, the encirclement tightens like a coiled snake with increasingly worrisome concentrated fire. It doesn¡¯t seem like the Metropolitans are aware of the Taiga yet. But there¡¯s no way I can risk sending a signal to Olga now. The instant the Metropol fleet intercepts it, our last trump card will be wasted. The moment the Castelforte pierces through the middle lines of defense is when the gates of hell unleash an unprecedented storm of missiles. Whatever doubts I had of the Federation having a shed of humanity evaporated when they are crazy enough to fire upon entire firing lines of their own. We¡¯re between three hundred fifty to four hundred kilometers away from the Trinidad . And it¡¯s at this point where I am compelled to order the fleet to withdrawal from the open into the middle screen of Federation ships and debris. What lies beyond is without a doubt no man¡¯s land and a testament to our high water mark. But in less dreadful news, Olga enjoys greater success. I watch in awe as a single blip rips a clear path through the encirclement towards us. When I look at Brutus, I can only wonder if this is truly our last chance at breaking out. It is, however, a question that I don¡¯t dwell too much on. All I will say that everything that we did¡ªall the men I willingly let die young¡ªwould be in total vain if we tried to break out now. I have to make their sacrifices meaningful one way or another¡ªand a retreat would render it redundant. Once it¡¯s clear that Olga has sortied into the encirclement itself and is not far off from us, I give the order for my fleet to sally out of our makeshift defenses for the final line of defense. Olga¡¯s fleet continues at max speeds and it isn¡¯t long before her ship overtakes us overhead. The bridge room rumbles as several dozens of Olga¡¯s contingent races past us and nearly zips out of view. Isn¡¯t Olga going a bit too fast? Our ships still have yet to match her speed. If she maintains this overall speed, she might get wiped out before we get the chance to capitalize on her momentum. ¡°Brutus¡­¡± I mutter ¡°before it¡¯s too late, have the radio handler order Olga to slow down, if only a little,¡± when I finish Brutus gives me a glance of perplex. ¡°Madame, I understand that you¡¯re concerned about Miss Olga, but¡­¡± he clears his throat ¡°if she slows down now, not only will she be easy pickings, but it¡¯ll snowball into us getting slaughtered as well.¡± I rub my scar in frustration. I¡¯m hesitant to admit the man¡¯s right. I can¡¯t afford to let my feelings for Olga get in the way now. I just wish she wasn¡¯t always so reckless with her endeavors. Three hundred kilometers. Then two hundred kilometers. Little by little, we advance closer to the Trinidad. Many of my men suffer horrible fates, and many more Federation ships are sunk in kind. This attritional hell-scape does little to deter our determination. Or at least that is what I want to fool myself into thinking. Most would be at their breaking point and I could be none the wiser. Do they go on because I am the beacon of hope, or would they have initiated a mutiny by now if it was any other captain? ¡°Interception of Federation messages originating from the asteroid formations!¡± The radio technician declares ¡°reports of mafia forces breaking through in record numbers¡ªlocal forces in the center unable to turn the tide¡­¡± Is Jung finally making his move!? Looking at the strategic map I can only wonder if it¡¯s a gamble or if Darcy is using the decoy ships as a last-ditch distraction. Whatever the case, it seems to work as some Federation ships from our sector attempt to turn around for a strategic redeployment. A decision that cost many their lives. One hundred kilometers. Maybe more, maybe less. Any one of the small beads in the cosmic distance could be our target, and it¡¯s only a matter of time of finding the right one. But even so, despite our allied efforts at pulling troops away from my side, the rest of the Federation stubbornly stand their ground in concentrated positions. No longer do they slowly traverse back like the previous lines of defense do. Rather, some advance to bring the fight to us. Others dig in leaving us with no real choice but to cut through them head-on¡ªeven if that means ramming. Something that would be a very Olga thing to do. And something that I quickly realize is what she most likely intends to do. ¡°Order Olga and her ships to avoid crashing into ships! If she can¡¯t destroy them with guns¡ªthen slip past them!¡± I retort to the terrified radio technician. But when I look out the window at the Taiga, my world freezes. Like a slow-motion train wreck, I watch in horror as the Taiga ¡ªand many other Mafia ships¡ªcrash irresponsibly into a herd of Federation ships. Ships of either force spiral out of control; among them, the Taiga. Some violently set off a chain of fiery balls. Thus, leaving behind a tremendous gap in the formation¡­ the pathway to the Trinidad and a token number of ships circling it. But it doesn¡¯t matter to me now. The Trinidad is the least of my worries. The only thing that floods my mind is that good for nothing lanky blonde. ¡°OGLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!¡± I nearly throw myself over the railing¡ªbut an enormous arm wraps itself around me. Another wailing scream to which there is no answer. Any rationale I had quickly evaporates, and I find myself beating on Brutus before I know it. ¡°Brutus!¡± An exasperation that comes from me ¡°the Taiga¡­ we have to rescue Olga!¡± But after enough prattling, Brutus pulls me away by the shoulders and grips me tightly. ¡°¡­Now is not the time to falter, Madame!¡± He hoarsely retorts with grievousness in his eyes ¡°she¡­ there¡¯s still a chance Ola may be alive! But for now, we have to march on¡ªmarch on and end this once and for all!¡± His grip on my shoulders tightens ¡°we had hundreds of men throw away their lives for this very moment! Olga is no different!¡± I stare Brutus straight in the eyes while balling my fists. A radiance of intense heat resonates from both my chest and mature scar tissue. And yet, I can¡¯t bring myself to lash out at the man. ¡°Olga would have wanted you to continue on without her,¡± Brutus says shutting his eyes and gritting his teeth. Yes. That¡¯s correct. One way or another, I have to end this whole nightmare. I have long accepted that people will die¡ªincluding myself. But now that it has come to this, I feel as though I lack the strength to go on. And without even knowing it, my body gives out and I slump into Brutus¡¯s strong hold. ¡°M-Madame?¡± I hear him utter in surprise. ¡°Madame!¡± Someone calls out to us from behind, the way Brutus moves tells me he looks up dumbfounded at the subordinate. ¡°The enemy flagship is less than twenty kilometers from our fleet¡ªthe enemy guns have all gone silent¡­ captain Sergi informed us that all guns are trained on the Trinidad and its escorts¡­ but he awaits your order to give the signal to fire. ¡°¡­Your orders, Madame?¡± To fire on the Trinidad or to take it hostage. To fire on the Trinidad, and risk getting completely slaughtered in relation. Would they still be sane enough to do something as absurd as a ceasefire with lawless bandits? Or would they capture me alive¡ªtorture me, laud me around as a hard-earned trophy? If the dead could see me now, would they be full of regret for decision I¡¯ll make? Would they feel regret for the sorry state I am in now? Is anyone capable of shouldering this decision? Simon¡­ Sergi, everyone¡­ what would they do in my shoes? Regaining what little composure I have, I lift myself from Brutus¡¯s warmth and turn to face the equally puzzled subordinate. ¡°Encircle the Trinidad ¡ª¡± I state trying to quell my shakiness ¡°but refrain from firing¡­ even if provoked. The Castelforte will position itself adjacent to the Trinidad.¡± Dumbfounded, the subordinate obliges and I follow him without so much as looking back at Brutus. When the two of us arrive at the radio console, the subordinate takes a minute to relay the information. The operator, in turn, looks at me with aghast before adjusting some dials and confirming the orders into his headpiece. In the meantime, I observe in solemn silence as the source of so much pain and suffering of all those present and those who have perished, either to destroy or to protect, slowly comes into an ever-increasing magnifying view. From here, I can make out the damage that Jung himself inflicted on this spectacle of a beast. Traversing around the Trinidad are shuttles nearly microscopic in size, most likely repairing the damage dealt. This imposing warship is hardly more than what I would call a throw stone away or three. Before long the bridge room is captivated in the imposing shadow of the Federation¡¯s flagship. On the opposite side, the sparkling of the distant stars utterly pales in comparison to the majestic presence of the Trinidad. For a fleeting moment, I find it a remarkable shame that such a well-crafted ship would be used as a vessel for war. I turn to face the radio operator and without another word I extend an open hand out. Baffled, he turns to face his fellow crew, but none offer anything to say. ¡°The receiver,¡± I state warmly ¡°I wish to broadcast a message to all the fleets myself.¡± With a wordless comply, he carefully hands me the receiver. I wait for him to adjust the dials, and after confirming that it is indeed on a public frequency I turn away from the gathered crowd. After withholding a long exhale, I cut the sigh loose and clear my throat. Then with a seriously trembling hand, I turn on the receiver. ¡°To all present ships¡ªthis is the voice of the Madame Scarface speaking! Those that swear allegiance to the Mafia, and those who fly the banner of the Federation. And to those to continue to spill blood across the seas of Rouen. I beg you¡­ no, I order all ships to cease this madness! ¡°After much senseless struggles¡ªa struggle that has dragged on for much too long, and one that has claimed the lives of thousands, I now hold the Trinidad flagship hostage. But I do not seek to destroy it or let any harm come their way. I swear not by the honor of a pirate, not as a pirate and not as the elusive Madame Scarface ¡ªbut as myself; Li Chou. I will exercise everything in my power to ensure that no one disobeys an order on my part. I merely ask for the same of you! This brings me to my ultimatums¡­ ¡°One! If I detect so even the slightest of movements intended to rescue the Trinidad, I will storm the Trinidad and kill all aboard. Failing that, I will give the order to blow it up¡ªalong with everyone else caught in the crossfire. All the Federation ships present will stay as they are. ¡°Two! The Federation will withdrawal from Toscana entirely¡­ as soon as the last ship crosses the Rouen corridor, I will safely release the flagship. No harm will come to stragglers left behind, and no prisoners will be taken for that matter. ¡°Three! I will give the entire Federation fleet five hours to comply with these demands. If they are not met I will proceed with boarding the Trinidad and negotiate with force¡ªand if that fails, I will not hesitate to kill every last one personnel¡ªthe high command staff included. ¡°And now, with that said, I beg you¡ªnot as sailors, not as officers, and not as soldiers of the Federation¡ªbut as fellow men and women to do what is right in the name of self-preservation!¡± And with that, I click the receiver off and let it drop. Turning back to the bridge crew, I notice Brutus has caught up and gives me a somewhat puzzled expression as he nods in approval. With nothing more to do on the bridge, I motion for Brutus to walk with me outside. ¡°Madame¡­¡± Brutus says lightly when we are alone ¡°do you truly believe that the Federation will comply with your ultimatum? When I suggested taking the Trinidad hostage, I never imagined it would end up this way.¡± This is how it should be. This is how I want it to be. We have no other chance at survival other than what amounts to a gambit. Will the Federation high command bow their heads to such needless commands? Or will they obediently do as they are told¡ªeven if being told to fire on more of their own? ¡°There¡¯s no room for doubts now, Brutus,¡± I remark laconically ¡°either the Federation will, or they won¡¯t. They might just regroup, rearm, and invade again even if the ultimatum succeeded. They still have the ships and mat¨¦riel. We might have won here¡ªnow, but whatever action the Federation undertakes thereafter will cement this battle¡¯s legacy. The one who can¡¯t tough it out to the end is the one that loses, Brutus, and I don¡¯t believe I can tough out any more than what we endured. ¡°For as long as humanity existed, Brutus, there has been no shortage of victories scored by great men of history¡ª but have suffered losses so unsustainable that the victory they yearned for was their undoing,¡± I pause for a brief moment as we turn a corner ¡°in those days, I believe the term for them was called a Pyrrhic victory¡ªnamed after some ancient king that fought a war against an empire with such immense strength that it was akin to that of the Federation. ¡°Even if the Federation withdrew, Brutus, and never followed up with a military campaign, this would still be nothing less of a victory. If they so much as returned a few months from now, or even a year or more, I would not stand a chance against the Federation juggernaut. One day they will learn their lesson to coordinate a simultaneous attack¡ªand when that happens I will have lost.¡± Brutus remains silent for the rest of the walk but speaks up once we stop in front of an all-too-familiar door. ¡°Madame? This is¡­¡± I turn to face Brutus as I activate the door panel. ¡°That was a bit of a long-winded answer,¡± I state warmly ¡°but to keep it short¡ªno, Brutus, I don¡¯t expect the Federation to comply with the ultimatum on peaceful terms. I fully intend to storm the Trinidad and deliver my demands by force.¡± Chapter 68: Memories of Toscana - Vol1 END | Rouen, the Nè°©str?nd
CIRCA 205-206 UC
AT A SIDE¡¯S HARBOR
This isn¡¯t fair! None of this fair! This is lame! It doesn¡¯t matter how many times I pout or jump in place. Mama doesn¡¯t move a muscle. She simply stands there, eyes closed and with a calm expression. ¡°There¡¯s nothing to do here! There¡¯s no one to play with. I want to play and have fun!¡± I whine. A dozen adults glance at us while we stand out in the open, but all of them shrug off my temper tantrum. I¡¯m getting tired of this, it¡¯s always the same. It¡¯s always boring. Mama opens her eyes and gives me a glowing smile. ¡°Li, dear¡­ just wait a little longer, and we¡¯ll be on our way,¡± she nods her head with a smile expecting me to comply ¡°you can play with your brother while on the ship¡ªwe have all those toys papa bought for you, remember? Don¡¯t you want to play with your toys?¡± ¡°Mama! You always say that!¡± I snap back angrily ¡°and then we go to the next big scary guys and the next dock with nothing to do!¡± I take a step forward ¡°I want to play with other kids! I want to have fun and not play with big brudder all the time!¡± I blow mama a raspberry ¡°big brudder never lets me win when we play his games, either!¡± ¡°My, my¡­¡± Mama rubs her face with that gentle smile of hers ¡°after this deal¡ªor the next¡ªI¡¯ll pester papa to let us go have some free time in the next Side we go to. That way I can find a playground or arcade for you to play at, would that be better?¡± She asks, getting on her knees and shuffling closer to me. ¡°Afterwards, I might nag papa to have us dine at a nice and fancy restaurant¡­ and then after that, I can buy you some snacks. Wouldn¡¯t that be nice, Li?¡± ¡°Make it a cotton candy! A really fluffy cotton candy! A really big one!¡± I exclaim, but I quickly calm down, ¡°mama¡­ wouldn¡¯t that make papa angry?¡± ¡°Angry?¡± She muses. ¡°That you¡¯re spoiling me so much,¡± I reply quietly with eyes to the floor, ¡°papa always seems like he gets mad when you spoil me¡­¡± I look back up at mama and she never smiles for even a second. ¡°Papa¡­ doesn¡¯t get mad, darling,¡± for just a second it seems her smile has a hint of sadness in it ¡°Papa¡­ always beats himself up for letting work get in the way of being a parent. If he had things his way, papa would¡¯ve wanted us to settle down in Terra and never have to worry about having to put yummy hot food on the table. You would be able to go to school properly and make lots and lots of friends.¡± ¡°Mama¡­¡± I blink rapidly and drop my gaze to the floor again ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ I¡¯m¡­¡± Before I know it, she plants a hand on my head and gives me a gentle pat. ¡°Mama?¡± ¡°Papa¡¯s not very good at expressing himself, but he wants what¡¯s best for us too,¡± Mama says ¡°he might gawk at the idea of spoiling you this badly with candy¡­ but deep down he knows he¡¯d want to do the same, too, to make life just a little less dull for you,¡± mama rubs my head again ¡°it¡¯s a promise, Li, when we¡¯re at the next stop I¡¯ll spoil you to your heart¡¯s content!¡± ¡°Really, really?¡± I couldn¡¯t help but hop in excitement ¡°you¡¯ll really take me to fancy arcades and playgrounds and play with other boys and girls?!¡± ¡°It¡¯s a promise, Li,¡± Mama beams without a worry in the world ¡°I¡¯m not one to break promises, am I?¡± She continues to pet me ¡°all I ask is you behave like a good girl and don¡¯t cause papa any trouble when he¡¯s doing grown-up work.¡± I give a nod and take mama¡¯s hand, ¡°thank you mama¡­ I¡¯ll be a good girl and keep my promise, too.¡± ¡°I¡¯m happy we could conclude a little trade agreement of our own,¡± mama giggles. She looks away in the direction of our ship and gets up. After dusting herself off, mama takes my hand and points at the ship with her other hand. ¡°Looks like papa and brother managed to finish moving cargo around¡­ let¡¯s go wait in the ship and I¡¯ll play some games with you, okay?¡± With happy compliance, the two of us depart for the ship.
BACK IN THE PRESENT
AUGUST 15TH, 220, 6:00 AM VELKSLAND TIME
4 HOURS LEFT IN THE ULTIMATUM
The slightly cracked visor shows the reflection of a happy-go-lucky child, smiling as she takes great strides toward a promise that never came to be. The more I rotate the helmet in my grasp, the more the paths of cracked glass resemble the shattered innocence of a girl that once was. After each turn, the likeliness of the innocent child changes to that of an older haggard, obviously strained by her actions. The more I hold this cursed helmet in my hands, the longer I feel I am pulled into a bottomless pit of regret, latching onto a past that I can only dream of changing. A past that only serves to haunt me for being so weak and feeble. But in hindsight; there truly was nothing I could do. I was merely a child after all. Even if I had a second chance at diverting the flow of history, there would be nothing to avoid it. Traversing those lanes then was often horrible. Even if events miraculously played out differently¡ªeven if we all lived happily ever after, it would still happen eventually. One day, we would have been raided by pirates, and perhaps even I would have not been spared if it were for the likes of Simon. The only way any of it could have been avoided is if my older brother or papa settled down somewhere¡ªlike his and mama¡¯s dream of settling in Terra. Li Chou would have never died, and the Madame Scarface that terrorizes the galaxy would have never been conceived. But it cannot be helped now. It is merely history at this point¡ªeven less that and more of a forgettable footnote lost to time. I rest the helmet on my lap and give it a few gentle strokes. If mama¡ªor even papa saw how I grew up to be. Would they be horrified, or perhaps weep at the misgivings I have gone through? If they were still alive, would they still call me their flesh and blood daughter, or would they consider me a blood-thirsty monster? Considering all the cruel things I¡¯ve done to others¡ªrobbing spouses of their loved ones, sending adult children to their graves, and leaving dozens of children orphaned¡ªis there any hope of me having humanity? Was this way of life destined for me? I can only wonder how history will view me for years to come; a victim of cruel destiny, or perhaps a maddening woman whose insatiable thirst for bloodshed never ends. I look upon the overhead lights which flicker occasionally. Some henchmen walk past with averted eyes; some clutching to feeble determination. Many are clad in milky-white armor plating, some others only have chest plates and even less. Their weaponry consists of anything from great axes to machine pistols and even the occasional rifle. Putting aside the helmet, I reach for the wooden axe propped up between my heels and caress the steelhead. And yet again, I find myself at a junction where I must either resolve this peacefully or go all out and kill those who oppose me. Why must I always resort to violence in the vain hope of achieving my goals? Clenching the blunt side of the axe, I can only curse in silence at father¡ªat Simon and Kamon for forcing me to go through this route. At myself for not being able to change something at Brunsb¨¹ttel. To change not just my fate¡ªbut those who chose to follow me. Those who believed I have decided to charge headfirst into the fray without a second thought. Stroking the axe head more¡­ I wonder, did I make the right choice at Brunsb¨¹ttel? Did I make the right choice at Valspon, and perhaps the right choice to stop and rest at L¨¹beck? If I had waited for a second longer¡ªthe battle would have been lost. Everything otherwise has been going so¡­ well. I don¡¯t want to believe this was the right course of action. I wanted to deceive myself into thinking this is the only course of action¡ªthat violence is the only answer. But even now I can¡¯t help but think: it shouldn¡¯t be. Surely, was there some other path I could have taken? Surely I could have done better to convince Simon of the coup. I thought Simon and I understood each other more than anyone else. Even more than Dong Zhui and Olga. But perhaps I was wrong. Perhaps Simon speaks the truth about the consequences of an initiated coup. In hindsight, I put Simon in a dreadful spot and forced him to choose between two people who he holds dearly. But it¡¯s not Simon¡¯s fault that this whole massacre unfolded. Rather, it is in no part due to the wretched man I call father and the pool of paranoia he swims in. There would¡¯ve been no way to peacefully resolve this resolution¡ªno way to slow the endless corpses that would be spilled for an ending nobody desires. The only variable that changes is how people would¡¯ve died. In any case, I have killed a lot of people. I have killed for my survival, and for those who blindly followed me without objection to what I did, deluding themselves into believing I have done the correct course of actions. And I hate it. I reject the notion that what I did was the right thing¡ªbut there¡¯s been no other choice. I was dealt with the worse dice rolled by destiny and had to make calculations that cost me dearly. It frustrates me to no end on having to persistently throw away lives on broken promises¡ªon the off-chance that this hope that everyone clings to will make all our sacrifices worth it. And yet, despite accomplishing all that I did, and after wading through an ocean of blood I have arrived at this sorry beach of corpses. With all the lives of those I have extinguished, am I truly any better than Karwoski? Do I have any sense of morality left in me¡ªany shred of humanity? Why must my suffering continue? Why must I endure these awful, miserable dice rolled by destiny? What will it take to be free of this suffering? If this ultimatum fails¡ªand if I am forced to board the Trinidad, will the last dice roll land on a six? Will death be the only meaningful way out of this nonsense life I live? Will I have to lung into the bottomless pits of death to save those more deserving to live? Olga¡­ if Olga died in her reckless endeavor, is there any point in living if I have no one left to be by my side? I set the axe down on its head, and rest my chin and hands on the axe¡¯s flat knob. As I sit there in ponder, a couple more people pass by, and one of them stops in front of me. My eyes slowly creep up and I find it is no one but Brutus¡ªwearing a variant of the usual armor plating but in a darker gray tone. ¡°Madame,¡± the man starts as he takes a seat next to me and stares at the businesses of the hanger where people come and go ¡°the bridge hasn¡¯t had anything new to report. No signs of any ships moving, no response to the ultimatum¡­ nothing,¡± Brutus finishes taking a glance over at me. ¡°It¡¯s to be expected, five hours is not a whole lot of time to deliberate on something major as this¡± I reply flexing my fingers over the oak handle ¡°perhaps it would¡¯ve been better in giving them more time¡­ no one in the fleet is broadcasting any jammers, are they?¡± I inquire looking back at him. I can¡¯t help but think that the extra plating the oaf wears makes him far heavier than the eye perceives. ¡°All our frequencies are open and as far as I¡¯m aware, there are no signs of jamming from either the Feds or our own,¡± Brutus says, placing his double-sided axe on his lap. The light reflects brightly off the silver-colored head. ¡°So far, there¡¯s only been a flurry of messages to the Trinidad ¡ªbut none originating from it. Most of them are merely repeating the same question¡ª ¡¯what is our answer? Should we intervene?¡¯ And things of that nature,¡± Brutus reaches out for the great axe¡¯s head and taps it a couple of times with his plated mittens. ¡°I see¡­¡± I muse by taking one hand off my axe¡¯s knob and rubbing my cheek. I look back over at Brutus, and he returns the gaze. We remain like this for a while until the giant oaf repositions himself in his seat and blinks owlishly. ¡°Am I making you uncomfortable, Brutus?¡± I ask warmly. The man clears his throat. ¡°No¡ªI mean, sort of,¡± Brutus retorts ¡°er¡­ is something on your mind?¡± He asks ¡°you seemed sort of gloomy before I arrived¡­ are you anxious about the ultimatum failing?¡± He immediately winces and bites on his lower lip ¡°sorry, that was a¡­¡± ¡°That, and so much more, Brutus,¡± I wryly say ¡°I was wallowing in a sinkhole of despair over what I¡¯ve done, and what I will have to accomplish from here on out, but I think that¡¯s details I will spare you from¡­ boring to tears, for lack of a better word,¡± I lift myself from the axe and lean onto the wall behind us, resting the handle against my stomach. ¡°That side, I think I found myself rather baffled by how much the armor makes you look¡­ bigger.¡± Brutus, having looked away, looks at me with a surprised scoff. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I should be taking that as an insult or not. I¡¯ll have you know I¡¯m not fat¡­¡± his cheeks slightly flush red ¡°it¡¯s all muscle mass, mainly.¡± ¡°Even if you weren¡¯t to wear the armor, I bet all the bullets would either bounce off you or be soaked by the muscle fat you have,¡± I remark with a warm smile ¡°you certainly would make a splendid meat shield or even an impenetrable door¡­ come to think of it, I¡¯m surprised you can fit in these tight corridors given your height and mass, I do wonder if Federation corridors are smaller than ours?¡± Brutus scoffs with embarrassment again. ¡°I never took you one for being a tease, Madame,¡± Brutus says, flipping his visor on. ¡°It¡¯s important to try and keep some sense of rationality in these hard-pressed situations,¡± I say wincing a smile ¡°on that note, Brutus, if, and if this ultimatum fails¡­¡± I trail off watching as the man stiffens in his seat. I scoot closer to Brutus and run a hand along the metallic armor he wears over his thigh. It almost pains my heart having to go through with this, but I feel it must be done. ¡°M-Madame¡­?¡± Brutus stammers through the closed face-plating. He reaches for the knightly visor but slowly retracts his clenched hand. With my hand still on his leg, Brutus cautiously moves around in his seat. ¡°Brutus, I want you to stay behind on the Castelforte,¡± I state softly ¡°I have in all likelihood lost Olga¡­¡± my hand makes its way up Brutus¡¯s thigh to his torso¡¯s shirting. The man must have been holding his breath in since he seems to deflate with a hoarse sigh. ¡°I don¡¯t want to have to lose any more that I hold dearly. ¡°It may be a little selfless of me, but I want you to live, Brutus. I want you to live and find a purpose in life¡­ find a lover and settle down with her. If I don¡¯t survive, then go to Simon after this is all over. I have full faith he will let you and anyone else who wishes to leave the Mafia without issue.¡± ¡°Madame¡­ I,¡± Brutus says haltingly ¡°I can¡¯t imagine letting you go by yourself without adequate protection¡­¡± ¡°Brutus,¡± I grimace a smile ¡°you have risked your life more than enough times. I believe it is my turn to return the favor¡ªto spare everyone from any more meaningless deaths,¡± reaching up I lift the man¡¯s visor. His eyes are full of hesitance. ¡°You can¡¯t just say that, Madame¡­¡± Brutus says after clearing his throat ¡°you have a right to live, too. You have to, for Simon¡ªfor Olga. And all those who laid down their lives for you.¡± I only shake my head. ¡°When I arrive in Hell, I¡¯ll apologize for what I¡¯ve done to the hordes of people that died for me. Even on the off-chance that Olga survives, I will wait for as long as it takes to prostrate in recognition for my selfishness.¡± Brutus shakes his head in disagreement. ¡°Nobody could live with themselves if you died, Madame¡­ we all think of you as a mother or a big sister, if we lost you now, after all the suffering we endured together¡­¡± ¡°I¡¯m too much of a horrible monster to be considered anything motherly,¡± I reply dryly, stiffening another smile and enduring the stinging pain ¡°my last parting wish to all of you is to enjoy life for what it is. Most of the people I¡¯m taking with me are older,¡± I point to some group of soldiers across from us sitting on stools and enjoying a game of cards. Most of them look twice my age, some are graying already. ¡°Sergeants and soldiers who already experienced all that life could have offered. Some who have been with me when I was a child. Some even longer serving under Simon and the Don,¡± I turn my attention back to Brutus who stares down at the bench in disbelief. ¡°You¡¯re only a few years older than me, Brutus. Do you think I could live with myself if you died before me?¡± I retort poking him between the openings in his plating. He lets out a grunt and places a hand over my stomach. ¡°Compared to the momentum sins I¡¯ve committed, your hands are not nearly as bloody as mine. You don¡¯t have to live every day knowing that someplace, somewhere, a widow is sobbing for her sons and husband.¡± ¡°Madame¡­¡± Brutus mutters as his eyes shut tight as he heaves himself up from the bench ¡°this isn¡¯t right¡­¡± ¡°Please, Brutus, as the Madame Scarface I order you to strip off the armor and remain on the bridge. As Li Chou¡­¡± a pause ¡°I beg you to refrain from participating in any more mindless slaughter.¡± Brutus lowers his head in silence. He then gets up and slowly slides the helmet off. Brutus turns to walk away, but stops and turns part way. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. ¡°Madame¡­ in the off-change that Olga lives,¡± he tersely clears his throat ¡°what do you suppose I should tell her?¡± I look back at my helmet to pick it up. Rolling it in my hands, I ponder for a proper answer. Certainly, Olga would be nothing less than devastated. If I were to die and Olga somehow lived, I have no doubt she would fall into a bottomless depression. It¡¯ll shatter her will to live. And for that reason, after staring into the cracked reflection of a dozen Madames, I do not doubt that I am coping much the same. ¡°Next time,¡± I say heartily ¡°I hope you meet someone who will love and understand you all the same¡ªand may you live a long and peaceful life, Olga,¡± I finish gripping the helmet tighter ¡°and as for Simon¡­ please tell him I¡¯m sorry I couldn¡¯t keep our promise.¡± When I look up at Brutus again, he nods sorrowfully, and following the long moment of a chest salute, the giant of a man leaves the bay area in grave silence. Simon¡­ I nearly forgot to consider how he may feel about this. I don¡¯t doubt that his heart will literally break upon the news. But it can¡¯t be helped now. In time, both Olga and Simon will have to accept the past and move on with their lives. Or at least, I can only hope so. The time ticks by, and the Federation¡¯s answer to the ultimatum draws near. Even if they were given the order to fire¡ªwill their moral conscious object? As a democratic entity, their soldiers should have the right to refuse orders and stop this madness once and for all. But after the Federation massacred their troops in cold blood earlier, I have little, if any, faith that they won¡¯t pull the trigger. But even so, all I can afford to do now is hope for the best outcome available. Hope, and pray that the dice rolled by destiny bless me with nothing short of sixes. With everything said and done, if there could be one regret I would have in all of this, it would be not being able to have another meeting with that Victoria Happ-Schwarzenberger again. The things I could¡¯ve said, the experiences I could¡¯ve shared with her¡­ it frustrates me it won¡¯t be possible.
FORTY MINUTES UNTIL THE ULTIMATUM DEADLINE
The bay has become packed over the last few hours. Just by a quick head-count alone, I could tell there are at least over two hundred present. Even still, there were still a lot of latecomers flowing in. Near the open entrances of some assault shuttles, dozens stood at attention in columns near the entrances of their assault shuttles. Those were namely the cream of the top soldiers of the Castelforte I have at my disposal. Out of everyone present, I would say they were the most deserving of the well-worn suits of armor some of them wear. Their weapons are well-maintained, unlike my axe, which has suffered from minor corrosion over the last couple of years. Out of the corner of my eye, a lad runs up to me. After catching his breath, he presents himself with a graceful chest salute. ¡°Madame! Lieutenants Lachmayer, Skop, and Preecha report that their soldiers have all formed rank and are ready to board their vessels,¡± the boys finishes his report with another salute. ¡°Excellent, thank you¡­¡± I reply tersely ¡°and the others? There should still be a few more¡ªif I remember correctly, I summoned Brancaccico and Lafond¡­¡± ¡°They are still scrounging around for equipment,¡± the young man replies reluctantly ¡°they told me they should be done in twenty minutes,¡± he finishes, flinching slightly. And he has every reason to, as I subconsciously find myself gritting my teeth. ¡°What the hell have they been doing for the last couple of hours?¡± I angrily mutter under my breath, rubbing my bridge nose in an attempt to calm myself now. ¡°I had them promoted for their past merits, and you¡¯re to tell me they can¡¯t even muster soldiers in a timely manner?!¡± Upon seeing the lad shrink at my reaction, I take a deep breath and offer him a wincing smile. ¡°Sorry¡­ do tell them to¡­ hustle in their efforts. I¡¯m leaving with or without Lafond or Brancaccio. It would be quite the shame to have my odds even more far-fetched than they are now,¡± I remark as kindly as I could ¡°if there¡¯s nothing else to report then please hurry along.¡± The lad makes his leave. As the courier slips out of sight, Brutus enters the bay and heads toward my direction, being stopped only by a group of passersby that he nearly crashed through like a determined wave. Seeing him without armor takes away some of the anxiousness that I¡¯ve accumulated for the last few hours. ¡°Madame,¡± Brutus says, plopping himself down on the seat next to me. I expect him to continue speaking, but after a few more moments pass, I turn to face him. And he certainly looks troubled. ¡°Brutus?¡± ¡°There hasn¡¯t been a single message from the Trinidad yet, not a single peep. Not even so much as an encrypted message is detected. On the other hand, not a single Federation ship has budged at all,¡± Brutus states with a tired sigh. The oaf leans forward with his chin on his hands. He doesn¡¯t say any more, and we sit there in silence for the next couple of minutes. When he does look back at me, his eyes convey the same amount of anxiousness as I do. ¡°Aren¡¯t you worried about this, Madame?¡± ¡°About what in particular?¡± I ask warmly, gently brushing my axe¡¯s flat knob. ¡°Forbidding me from me going, this tense standoff that you and the Feds are in, just to name a few,¡± Brutus remarks leaning back against the wall. ¡°You don¡¯t seem as pale when I first came by to check up on you.¡± ¡°They always say not to judge a book by its cover,¡± I reply in kind ¡°beneath this beast¡¯s looks lies an utterly trembling maiden unsure of what the future has to offer¡ªof what the dice rolls of destiny has in store for her,¡± a little scoff escapes my lips ¡°simply put, I¡¯m paralyzed by fear. But I¡¯m also driven by it,¡± I remark rather stoically. The giant man jeers in return and gets on his feet. When I look behind him, men that I recognize belonging to Lafond start pouring in¡ªall with anxiety written all over their faces. It¡¯s still only part of what I expect. Just from a brief head-count, I can count at best forty out of the ninety that I requested. I don¡¯t see any men belonging to Brancaccio at all. Though, it could just be his underlings are in another hub block. Brutus looks at his wrist-watch¡ªand for a second the nervousness in his eyes grows. He follows my gaze at Lafond¡¯s men slowly but surely forming up into a poorly organized column. It¡¯s safe to say that these soldiers are practically green. As if reading my thoughts, Brutus crosses his arms and frowns. ¡°Lafond¡¯s men?¡± Brutus muses ¡°You¡¯re mobilizing Lafond¡¯s men for this? I never took them for being much of fighters¡ªweren¡¯t these kids part of the Don¡¯s younger guard at Brunsb¨¹ttel?¡± He tilts his head in ponder ¡°Or Simon¡¯s¡­ perhaps¡­ in any case, if you¡¯re that desperate for manpower¡­¡± he stops and shakes his head. He probably realizes it would be fruitless to change my mind of him going at his point. There wouldn¡¯t be enough time now to change back into armor even if that were the case. ¡°Not just Lafond, but Brancaccio too,¡± I say concisely before frowning ¡°though¡­ I¡¯m starting to have second doubts about Brancaccio.¡± When I inform Brutus of the courier from earlier, the overbearing muscle-man slaps himself over the head. ¡°You make one subordinate get benched, and his replacements just reek of incompetence,¡± Brutus groans ¡°if Brancaccio doesn¡¯t arrive in time¡­¡± ¡°The answer is no, Brutus,¡± I retort sharply. Brutus stiffens in place for a second before slowly easing up on the tension. ¡°Regardless of his ability to marshal in an orderly fashion, Brancaccio does have some experience with ship-to-ship fighting¡ªunlike his lackeys,¡± with a gentle rub of my damaged facial tissue I continue ¡°the man also has a far smaller frame than you do¡ªI¡¯d liken you to a barn, Brutus. Even the worst Metropolitan conscripts would be able to hit you from a kilometer away.¡± It is, of course, a remark that evokes a confused scoff from my confidant. ¡°I think I got it the first time, Madame,¡± Brutus states dryly, leaning in his seat in a defeated posture. After what feels like several minutes passing by, he glances at his wristwatch and slowly¡ªreluctantly¡ªgets up from his seat. I follow suit, and the two of us walk to the center of the hub area. Before us, the assembling soldiers and their accompanying lieutenants give one last inspection of their troops before they are all herded into their shuttles. Just outside in space, I watch anxiously as Mafia ships maneuver around into positions capable of providing more deterrence. By now, I shouldn¡¯t be finding this situation surprising¡­ but now that the pieces are gradually falling into place, I clutch my rapidly beating chest in anticipation of what¡¯s to come. ¡°Ten minutes left to the deadline¡­¡± Brutus mutters, glancing over his shoulder at the entryways as if holding out hope that a bridge technician will rush in any moment now. Of course, that sort of thing is pure fantasy. When Brutus looks back at me, he smirks and puts a hand on my shoulder to stop my mild trembling. ¡°Don¡¯t ask it again, Brutus,¡± I stammer, clenching my trembling fists. Brutus¡¯s hand neither tightens nor softens up. Instead, I find myself spun around and forced into an embrace. ¡°Don¡¯t falter now, Li,¡± Brutus chokes ¡°not in front of the men¡ªput on a front, at least for a little longer.¡± ¡°Simon¡­ please¡­ please tell him I¡¯m sorry¡ªI¡¯m sorry if I die before he does,¡± I tersely gasp in between increasing sobs. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around the man. The more I bury my face into his chest, the wetter his shirt becomes. Brutus must¡¯ve taken notice too, because he pulls me away, and with a giant hand wipes the streams of tears from my eyes. ¡°You know, seeing a beauty such as yourself close-hand, I don¡¯t think crying suits you at all,¡± he says trying to crack a smirk. There is a lone tear lining his cheek. Olga¡­ what I would do to be with her right now. To be in her grasp and be told everything would be okay. Before I can say any more, Brutus turns me around, and with a gentle push compels me to walk toward the nearest assault shuttle still open. Many of its occupants staring at me with curious eyes, unsure of what to make of our little moment. As I take a few steps toward the ramp, I look back at Brutus and the others staying behind to crew the Castelforte. The confidant, along with the others next to him, gives solemn chest salutes as the ramp begins to close. ¡°Madame!¡± Brutus shouts as I take a step back to give the door space to close ¡°You¡¯re going to tell that old sly dog you¡¯re sorry, yourself! You hear me?!¡± A slight scoff. Even as I¡¯m being shipped off to my utter doom, Brutus never fails to make little jabs. With the door sealed tight behind me, I turn around to the overly cramped passenger compartment, which is fairly huge in its own right. I wager if I permitted Brutus to come, he¡¯d struggle a fair bit in even getting out without slowing the assault dead in its tracks and having us all mowed down as a result. The men do what they can to give me space for me to make my way to the front of the assault shuttle. There, I look upward into a shaft leading into the pilot seats above. This shuttle, which was originally a captured Legionnaire craft, is designed in such a way that you can exit from either end of the craft¡ªa useful design for boarding a ship without having to risk slowing down the momentum and turning the ship around to board. ¡°Your orders, Madame?¡± One of the pilots peaks over from above. His co-pilot is busy flipping switches and handling the monitors. ¡°All shuttles are piped for launch.¡± ¡°Excellent, inform all pilots that we are to synchronize our launches in five minutes,¡± with a yes ma¡¯am! I turn my attention to the soldiers before me. ¡°Listen up! From here on out, whatever we accomplish here will decide the fate of the entire Mafia. Let no one escape! There will be no quarters. If you go down, I hope to hell you take at least a dozen with you!¡± I conclude to a roar of affirmative grunts, and staffs being banged on the floor. From among the many faces present, I make out that of the flamboyant Skop. ¡°All men other than Skop¡¯s will act as rearguard and root out the small-fry. Skop¡¯s men and I will fight our way to the bridge¡ªand in the best-case scenario, bring the admiral to the bargaining table by force,¡± I state loudly before hesitantly clearing my throat. Or die trying, at least. Turning my attention back to the pilot, I explain to him to relay the orders to the rest of the shuttles. Afterward, I slip on my helmet, unsheathe my rustic axe and hold onto the railing to await the forthcoming g-force acceleration. Seconds tick by. Minutes pass. Behind me, whispers of increasingly restless prayers go unanswered. The uneasiness of the men creeps up behind me, leaving me in a state of continuous short breaths. Before long the dimly lit compartment flashes red as the alarm signaling for all hands to brace for departing goes off for a few moments. At long last, the time of reckoning has come. Taking a long, strenuous deep breath, I tighten the grip on both my axe and the overhead railing. The siren wailing ceases and gives away to the mechanical ambiance of the shuttle being placed on a launch pad¡­ And an unusually loud banging from the other end of the shuttle. ¡°Don¡¯t they know we¡¯re about to launch?!¡± I bark glancing over my shoulder. ¡°Tell them to get back, lest they want to be propelled into space!¡± Needless to say, it never ceases. In fact, it only gets louder. If I listen real closely, I can hear faint similar noise coming from, presumably, the other shuttles. The banging never ceases, and I look up the shaft at the pilot dumbfounded. He gestures for me to investigate, and I make strides through the waves of bodies towards the rear of the shuttle. ¡°Get away from the shuttle, you idiots!¡± No answer and the banging only continues to cause me a growing migraine. ¡°What the hell is going on?!¡± I yell through the thick metal door. The banging immediately stops. There is silence at first, and then muffled voices. But I can¡¯t understand a word they¡¯re saying. ¡°Louder! I can¡¯t make out what you¡¯re saying!¡± I raise my voice again, I glance back at the horde of men behind me, gazing in puzzlement. Pressing my head against the door, I can slightly make the increasingly strained muted voices. Fed¡­ ration¡­ fle¡­t¡­ mo¡­v¡­ing¡­! My heart skips a beat. At that moment, underneath the armor plating, my whole body becomes stiff with coldness. Did I hear that right, no? It couldn¡¯t be¡­ Federa¡­ ion¡­ flee¡­ travers¡­ Rou¡­ en¡­! It couldn¡¯t possibly be happening. I refuse to believe it, and yet¡­ I rip myself away from the door and sprint towards the front, knocking over any who hasn¡¯t reacted in time to my sudden movement. ¡°Halt the shuttles! Halt the shuttles!¡± I scream through the closed visor as I push more of the bystanders aside. I fail to stop before reaching the front and slam with full force right onto the front shuttle door. With a painful grunt, I glare at the pilots both peering down in confused shock. ¡°What are you staring at me for?!¡± I bellow with strained vocal cords, ¡°tell the pilots to abort the launches! The Federation fleet¡­ the Federation fleet is withdrawing!¡± I point back towards the back ¡°the doors! Open the goddamn doors!¡± Getting back to my fleet with more painful grunts, I race to the back entrance and wait with bated breath as the doors open with a mechanic creak. Once the platform door is partway down, I run up the makeshift ramp and jump off onto the bay¡¯s platform below. What subsequently follows is a clumsy crash to the floor, followed by a painful roll that knocks the wind out of me. My vision becomes blurry, and the intense pain from my scar tissue is enough to make me cry out in pain. Several voices cry out for me after a series of gasps, and I feel several people attempting to keep me stabilized. But I pry myself away from them and throw the helmet off. I look around frantically and attempt to locate the windows. Upon locating them, I use what energy I have left and sprint towards it with full force. I hear Brutus and the others shout after me, but I ignore them. I have to see it for myself. I have to see to it with my own eyes that this is the way it goes down. That the Federation has made the right decision, and this is not merely a ploy to close in the Trinidad and the Castelforte. Gasping for air, and suddenly finally finding myself completely breathless, I collapse before the windows. With one last second-wind, I bring myself to my feet and prop myself up against the windows. And upon seeing the revelation, a fierce wave of emoticons crash over me. Slowly, but surely, the Federation fleet embarks not for L¨¹beck¡ªnot for us¡ªbut the Rouen corridor. And as the homogeneous fleet creeps along the cosmic sea, behind it¡ªjust beyond Velksland¡ªthe ever distant and ever beautiful sun creeps over the horizon. Soon, rays of blinding light shine with such intensity through the Castelforte¡¯s windows. And with its rise delivers the hopes and dreams of those who could not join us, of those who endured so much and hoped for nothing less of self-preservation. To a new tomorrow that heralds in a time of peace. At last. At long last. The dawning light appears over Toscana. As Brutus and the others join my side, I cover my mouth and break down sobbing on the hard, steel floor. Olga¡­ Simon¡­ Victoria. I did it. We won. Volume 2 Chapter 69: Toscana Requiem | Dawning Light
Bitter. That¡¯s one way I can describe the synthetic green tea Brutus gave me some time ago. I can¡¯t say I have ever tried the drink before so I figured it would be a good time as any to try it out. Brutus originally offered me the cup as a stimulant since I¡¯ve been struggling to keep my head up. I would have preferred something else, but seeing as he had already prepared the drink and stopped by to offer me it directly, I took it since I didn¡¯t want to cause any inconvenience for him. He was being considerate, so I decided to reciprocate the kindness. I needed something for an energy booster. Between sitting here anxiously observing the rather prolonged withdrawal of the Federation armada and extreme tiredness, I figured at the time anything would do so long as it kept me rejuvenated. As Simon might say¡ª ¡¯beggars can¡¯t be choosers¡¯. And being foolishly naive, I had no idea what those words meant until now. This synthetic substance truly lives up to its name as manufactured crud. It is unbelievably revolting. If I have to exaggerate for just a moment, I¡¯d declare both my taste buds and stomach face a bigger hurdle than the likes of this entire conflict. Simply put, the tea is extraordinarily bitter. Not even the awkward tastelessness of the vodka Olga and I drank at L¨¹beck can compare to the poor quality of this drink. Maybe the way Brutus prepared it ended up being botched, or it¡¯s simply the way this drink is intended to be. If it were anyone but Brutus that offered me this drink, I would have tossed it out immediately for another. But because it is given by Brutus, andbecause beggars can¡¯t be choosers, I might as well drink it down to the last gulp. But staring into the rather transparent-green liquid sloshing around in the cup, that may be a harder task to accomplish than I thought. Bringing the cup to my lips and wincing at the forthcoming gulp, I can only wonder if it would be better to indulge in this moment of celebration with some alcoholic beverage. I wouldn¡¯t mind trying more of the vodka that Olga and I tried earlier. In Olga¡¯s words, the vodka is a frequent guest of our storage simply because most are put off by the quality. I would normally agree, but compared to the rancid taste of this ¡®tea¡¯, the vodka I tried is more than bearable. Olga, Olga. Repeating her name over in my head makes my heart and my damaged facial tissue ache with pain. I glance at the rest of the bay, but nobody takes any notice of me. When it became wide-spread news that the Federation is in the process of withdrawing there was naturally much enthusiasm over it¡ªcelebration, even. But knowing that I had thrown so many brave souls to a shore of corpses¡ªamong them, possibly Olga¡ªthere¡¯s no way I could bring myself to participate. The crushing weight of my sins makes it unbearable, and so I withdrew myself into reclusion and let the men have their fun. And so long as they enjoy themselves, and enjoy this somber moment for a little while, then I am happy for them too. At least that is what I want to deceive myself into believing. I clutch the cup intently and hunch over in my seat, rubbing my face with my free hand. ¡°Olga¡­¡± I whisper under my hoarse breath ¡°why¡ª why did you do something so reckless?¡± Setting the cup down, I lean forward and rub my face with both hands. ¡°Why did it have to come to this¡­?¡± If she lives¡ªif she were by my side, then I wouldn¡¯t have to shoulder all this burden myself. Olga didn¡¯t die because of her recklessness, she died because of my over-determination in defeating the Metropolitan fleet. Her death is a direct consequence of my actions to break through the Federation dead-lock. I should have never sent out that distress call. I should¡¯ve heeded Brutus¡¯s advice and had her flank around the front-lines. Maybe I was wrong in my whimsical decision-making about the Federation defenses extending like a sphere around the Trinidad.There was a point where Mafia ships from the asteroid field managed to break through¡ªif I had risked sending Olga a message to divert her attention to a flanking maneuver¡­ then perhaps she would be by my side right now. Perhaps even enjoying a glass of that dreadful vodka together, taking in the moment of our supposed-victory over the Federation. ¡°But to drink alcohol alone is rather sad, isn¡¯t it, Olga?¡± I whisper into the contents of the cup after picking it up again ¡°if it was me that died¡­ would you still drink in light of our victory?¡± I should¡¯ve never sent her to the Taiga. It was a terrible decision to send her at the anti-escort vanguard¡ªand a greater disaster in sending the distress signal. I just wish that Olga wasn¡¯t so obedient¡­ she should¡¯ve resisted the order and stayed with me. ¡°I¡¯m a complete fool,¡± I say in between stifles of choked sobs ¡°what use is a victory if you aren¡¯t here with me?¡± ¡°¡­Madame?¡± The puzzled voice of Brutus makes me momentarily stiffen in place, before relaxing with an exhaustive sigh. I rub my blurry eyes with the heel of my hand, turning away from the direction of the man. ¡°Is something the matter¡­?¡± He pauses for a moment, perhaps to look at my cup of cruddy tea ¡°er¡­ is the tea not up to your standard?¡± A slight scoff ¡°if you didn¡¯t like it that much¡­¡± ? ¡°No, no¡­¡± I utter, trying to clear my throat. I finish up wiping my eyes with my forearm and turn to face Brutus, who holds with him a bottle of alcohol; a few swigs were taken from it I would guess. ¡°It¡¯s nothing like that, Brutus¡­¡± I grimace a painful smirk ¡°while I think the tea is rather incredibly awful¡± I tilt my head upward ¡°¡­I was agonizing over my miscalculations.¡± ¡°Your¡­¡± Brutus stares at me with continued bafflement, with a spice of hurt from the tea comment. He looks around for a chair and drags one up to my side. ¡°Excuse me?Your miscalculation? Look around you! Look outside!¡± Brutus points at the glistening body of Federation ships, infinite in all of its might ¡°your perceived miscalculations brought us here¡­ we have achieved the impossible, Madame!¡± ¡°An impossible feat, yes,¡± I reply softly ¡°one of which has cost us¡­ has cost me so dearly,¡± I reply softly, glaring at my bunched-together feet. There is silence and no drunken retort from the bear of a man. I glance back at Brutus and find the man has been broodingly rubbing his chin. Brutus occasionally nods as he takes in the dawning light basking the cosmic sea. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Madame¡­¡± the confidant finally breaks the silence ¡°I think I drank a little too much,¡± he shakes the bottle as its contents slosh around. Brutus then sets it down and spends the next few moments leaning forward with his hands clasped together. ¡°For such a big man, I never imagined you would be a lightweight, almost like¡­¡± I trail off biting my upper lip. Slumping forward, I resume staring at the floor. Normally Brutus would brush off the comment, but it doesn¡¯t seem the brute is in the mood for our usual exchanges. ¡°I should¡¯ve realized it sooner,¡± Brutus grumbles ¡°if I had known you were hurting this much, you know I would¡¯ve stopped by earlier and comforted you,¡± our eyes meet for only a second before averting them. ¡°I would not have drunk this much¡­ no,¡± he pauses ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind sharing some of it with you. If it helps to be of any reassurance.¡± I scoot my chair closer to Brutus. He seems a little hesitant¡ªa little surprised¡ªat the advance at first if a little uncomfortable with the closeness. I lean over and scoop up the bottle at his boots and cradle it in my arms. When it is evident of what I am doing, I notice Brutus out of the corner of my eye seemingly exhale with relief. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t want to drag you down to my sorry state, Brutus,¡± I remark softly ¡°you were enjoying yourself¡ª¡± I look up at Brutus ¡°were you not? There¡¯s nothing better than getting to see all my beloved men enjoy themselves. This is what I wanted,¡± I stare into the bottle that I¡¯ve nestled between my thighs, ¡°this is what¡­¡± a few deep breaths ¡°this is what¡­ the others who couldn¡¯t make it would want¡­¡± with increasingly blurred vision, I look back at the giant man ¡°they would¡¯ve wanted us to celebrate a victory, wouldn¡¯t they?¡± I grimace a tearful smirk. Brutus shuts his eyes and reaches out to hold me in his arms. Olga would want me to be happy, wouldn¡¯t she? She wouldn¡¯t want me to dwell on her sacrifice, would she? It¡¯s because of her that the two of us can sit here. Before us, the titanic Federation fleet continues its slow retreat across the Rouen corridor. On the other side of the vast room, the Trinidad is anchored next to us still, no harm to it as I promised. This wouldn¡¯t have been possible without Olga. It¡¯s because of her that we can live. And the least I can do¡ªthe least any of us can do is honor their memory by striving to live. But even so¡­ But even so¡­! ¡°I can¡¯t live without Olga,¡± I gasp burying my face into Brutus¡¯s increasingly wetted shirt ¡°I cannot stand the thought of celebrating, knowing that Olga is dead¡­!¡± ¡°¡­We don¡¯t know that, Li,¡± Brutus says clearing his throat ¡°we don¡¯t know if Olga survived or not.¡± ¡°It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s clear as day that she is, Brutus,¡± I stammer clenching his shirting ¡°there¡¯s no way she could be alive¡­ if she was on the bridge and if she didn¡¯t shutter her windows in time. Failing that, if the Federations engaged her in ship-to-ship combat¡­¡± I clear my throat ¡°I don¡¯t have the slightest doubt that she would doggedly throw her life away in the face of overwhelming odds¡­!¡± I let out with gasps. The more I squeeze Brutus, the more it becomes apparent I¡¯m trembling. There is an abrupt sensation of a burly hand stroking my head, an action that nearly forces me to recoil. Brutus¡¯s embrace is rather tight, though, but I hear him let out pained grunts. Without realizing it, my fingers are dug into his back. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯m sorry, Brutus,¡± I mutter trying to put myself at ease ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to¡­¡± I didn¡¯t get the chance to finish as Brutus releases his embrace and eyes me with a painful smirk. ¡°Don¡¯t sweat it, Madame, I overstepped my boundaries. But if I have to be honest I think you should cut your nails a little,¡± Brutus has a wincing wink as he reaches behind him and rubs the area where I clawed him. I withdraw into my poncho¡¯s collar to hide the flushed embarrassment and massage the aching pain stemming from my scar. ¡°There¡¯s no helping it,¡± I eye the bottle still nestled between my thighs ¡°you simply had a fair bit to drink,¡± I pour a marginal amount of the bottle into my half-empty cup of cruddy water. I let the contents mix for a bit before gulping the moderately alcoholic-infused beverage. It¡¯s still resoundingly horrible as I might expect, and I can taste the lameness in the alcoholic element as well. But looking over at Brutus, partaking in some spirits isn¡¯t so bad after all when you¡¯re in good company. Isn¡¯t that right, Olga? ¡°Was the tea that bad?¡± Brutus asks wryly ¡°rather¡­ were both drinks so bad you have to look like you¡¯ll vomit?¡± ¡°You might be horrible at preparing beverages, Brutus,¡± I reply heartily ¡°but even so, it¡¯s a good thing you have a good head on your shoulders, and a good heart. If you ever so much as find a wonderful partner, I¡¯m sure she would consider herself a very lucky woman to have such a fine man by her side.¡± When I finish, Brutus¡¯s eyes flicker and he averts his eyes to the windows. I follow his gaze and take in the increasingly sparse number of Federation ships passing us. Soon, they are joined by an influx of both Mafia and Federation ships cruising, which could only mean that it¡¯s only a matter of time before the withdrawal is completed. Then, the Trinidad will be released from captivity as well. And all of this will finally, truly be over. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Brutus looking over at me. The giant confidant reaches over and rests one of his enormous hands over mine¡ªdwarfed in comparison. His large, burly hand radiates so much heat, but it¡¯s a toasty touch I feel for only a second. Brutus draws back the next moment before our fingers interlock again¡ªI can only wonder if my distressing coldness caught him off-guard. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. It only becomes apparent about a burning sensation from my chest¡ªas if resonating with Brutus¡¯s warmness. So much so, I can¡¯t help but clench it with my other hand, my heart beating with excitement. As if on cue, Brutus scoots closer with his chair, his welcoming bodily warmth more apparent. He reaches out with his free hand and brushes it against my disfigured cheek. His touch provides tenderness that feels so alien to me¡ªa human touch that I haven¡¯t experienced before. ¡°B-Brutus?¡± I utter, surprised at the tone coming out of my mouth ¡°what¡¯s, what¡¯s exactly gotten into you? I¡­¡± ¡°Li¡­ what if¡­¡± Brutus inquires softly, he leans in closer to me. His warm breath, tinging with the stench of alcohol, flows into my face. His eyes are a little drowsy but still nonetheless fixated on interlocking with mine. ¡°What if the one I want to be with is with you?¡± Brutus whispers, his fingers, carefully, intricately, trace their way up the mature scar tissue. As if on reflex, my eyes avert from his, and then I tilt my head away. I experience short yet intense breaths as Brutus leans in more. His eyes flickering in anticipation of my answer. Is this right? Is this what Olga would¡¯ve wanted? To move on and find someone else to be by my side? So many incoherent thoughts race through my mind, but it¡¯s impossible to keep any coherent train of thought. My eyes, darting around in a mild daze, lock with Brutus¡¯s once again. I open my mouth to speak¡ªbut Brutus¡¯s words, as well as the effects of alcohol, have left me momentarily stunned. As Brutus inches closer to my face, I instinctively place a hand on his chest; grasping a handful of his shirting. ¡°Brutus,¡± I reply faintly ¡°you deserve¡­ someone so much more than me,¡± his eyes flicker, the fingers caressing my scar carefully curl up. ¡°I¡¯m a murderer, Brutus, amonster,¡± my shoulders shake with each utterance ¡°there¡¯s no hope for me to¡­¡± the sentence cuts off as I bite my lower lip. A lump in my throat makes it hard to say anymore. My grip on Brutus¡¯s chest tightens, my nails digging through the cloth into my palm. The profound sorrow in Brutus¡¯s pained eyes is more than enough to obliterate my fragile heart. For a fleeting moment, I want to change my mind¡ªreciprocate his feelings. But through my shrouded judgment, I know deep down it could never work out. It would be futile¡ªonly pain in dealing with our sins¡ªwith my demons. Before I get the chance to react, however, Brutus pushes himself away and reaches for the bottle between my legs, which he is capable of pulling out without an issue. Then with one last apologetic look in his eyes, he gets up. ¡°Brutus, I¡¯m sorry¡­¡± I state remorsefully, standing up with him. ¡°Brutus¡­¡± I say again, grabbing his shoulder. ¡°Please¡­,¡± with quivering lips, I pull myself to his backside ¡°I¡¯m just terrified¡­ what might happen if¡­¡± ¡°I went overboard, Li,¡± Brutus replies somberly, reaching behind to pet me on the head ¡°rather or not Olga is alive, it wouldn¡¯t be fair to her, would it?¡± My eyes widen at the mention of Olga, and I bury my face into his back. Brutus carefully wraps his arm around my head, making a ruffling mess of my bangs. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I was thinking, frankly¡­ I¡¯m still a tad drunk,¡± Brutus states with a gentle shake of his bottle. ¡°Don¡¯t hate me for it.¡± ¡°Hate you?¡± I inquire ¡°I have no reason to hate you,¡± I look up in time to see the oaf smirk slightly. ¡°But seeing you so distraught makes me fear¡­¡± ¡°Don¡¯t think anything of it, Li,¡± Brutus interjects, turning around to hold me by the shoulders. ¡°If anything, I want to kick myself for being too¡­ proactive,¡± he looks around at intrigued onlookers¡ªamong them the dazzling Skop ¡°I¡¯m going to be the target of envy for a while, so I¡¯m going to tactically retreat into my room and drown myself with this bottle of spirits,¡± Brutus lifts the bottle to view, the liquids slosh around inside. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Brutus,¡± I say softly, scanning the hub of onlookers and causing many¡ªbarring Skop¡ªto return to work. ¡°I¡¯ve certainly caused you a lot of inconvenience over this.¡± Despite the cold-hearted rejection, Brutus shoots a scoff and puts his hands over mine, signaling for me to release my grip. He proceeds to walk away as he waves. ¡°Brutus¡­ are you sure you don¡¯t want me to¡­¡± my cheeks flush and I pull my collar up to cover myself ¡°¡­would it be wrong to accompany you to your room?¡± I hear murmurs from nearby lackeys, and Brutus brushes it off again with another embarrassed scoff, ¡°no, no¡­ I think Skop here seems like he has something urgent to say, and you are still needed to oversee the Fed withdrawal,¡± Brutus reluctantly glances over his shoulder ¡°I brought this upon myself Li¡ª Madame. Don¡¯t hate the men if I end up black and blue in the waste department, alright?¡± Brutus shoots me a melodramatic grin, waving one last time before exiting the bay. Skop steps forward, hands behind his back. He briefly pats his chest with a balled fist before resuming his previous posture. ¡°Madame,¡± Skop begins ¡°¡­a little too much to drink? Rather rare of you,¡± he asks abruptly ¡°is it a bad time to give a report?¡± ¡°No¡ªit¡¯s fine, on with it,¡± I remark bitterly, surprising myself with my attitude. Skop blinks owlishly before responding with a shrug. I rub my scar aggravatingly and take my seat at one of the chairs, but the lackey declines the offer to take a seat. ¡°The bridge boys wanted to let you know they project ninety-nine percent of the Fed navy has completed its withdrawal across Rouen, as promised,¡± he pauses to allow me to glance at both sides of the windows. To the naked eye, there is indeed only the familiar sight of pale-green, to dark brown, and the similarly clashing mish-mash of blips that compose the Mafia fleet. Only the menacing Trinidad remains, along with the handful of escort ships at her side. This does remind me I have yet to assess the damage and our exact losses¡ªbut would I be better off being none the wiser about it? ¡°Wonderful,¡± I reply dryly, leaning back into the cold steel of the seat ¡°The Trinidad¡­ permit it to join its fleet. I don¡¯t want the Metropolitans to start developing any wrong ideas,¡± I sway my head to one side and rub the part of the scar that trails to my eyebrow. ¡°Right¡­,¡± Skop frowns ¡°should we send any ships to escort it across the corridor?¡± ¡°No, that would just cause some unforeseen consequences, I bet,¡± I remark with a sigh ¡°I¡¯m letting them go, er¡­ scot-free. Also, before I forget, I want all theCastelforte¡¯s couriers to return to the mothership for a quick briefing. Seeing as most of our fleet don¡¯t have transponders, it will be difficult in getting a head-count of who survived the battle, so I¡¯ll need them gathered to collect data for me firsthand¡­ and, send a transmission to the Taiga¡­,¡± I look up at Skop who nods in silence ¡°I¡­ want to know firsthand if¡ª¡± ¡°If captain Kaiser is alive and well?¡± Skop inquires, and I silently nod my head ¡°say no more, Madame, I will see to it as soon as possible if she and the others are in good health,¡± and with that, I dismiss Skop. Finding myself now alone, I slump into my chair, hugging myself, bracing for the dreadful news that I know awaits me. I just wish Olga were here to keep me company, or even the bumbling Brutus. But thinking about our awkward exchange makes me want to cover my flushing face with my collar more.
It¡¯s not long before the Trinidad receives permission to leave. The slumbering giant of a ship lurches forward, and then steadily gains traction as it and its companion ships sail across the Rouen corridor. I observe as most of the assembled Mafia fleet maneuvers out of the way to let it continue its voyage. With bated breath, I observe the situation, hoping that not a ship disobeys any order and fires on the freed hostages. But thankfully, nobody in their right minds is idiotic enough to pull a blunder like that. As the Trinidad takes less form of a ship and more of a tiny dot, several approaching spheres approach the Castelforte ¡ªthose that quickly resemble shuttle crafts. I watch from my chair as one after another hail the Castelforte, enter, and land without issue at designated landing spots. After they all land and the smoke clears, I get up from my chair and approach the pilots who have lined up before their shuttles. But after scanning the men and shuttles, something feels off. The Castelfortegenerally has about seven shuttles in total. But it seems that two or three are missing. And seeing as I watched all of them enter this shuttle bay, there¡¯s no possibility of any parking in the Castelforte¡¯s secondary bay block. Is it just my imagination? Are some of them still out there, just being slow on their return? I position myself in front of them, and after a few moments of scanning their expressions¡ªsome are poker-faced, others look overly nervous for some odd reason. The suspicion returns, but I try to suppress it for the time being. ¡°I recalled you all to have you go around the fleet and be my eyes and ears on assessing the fleet¡¯s damage¡ªnamely those who lack the means of communication. Find out from the surviving lieutenants who survived, and who perished. Then report to me your findings, that¡¯ll be all,¡± I clear my throat, scanning the faces of the troubled men once more. Some stiffen up, others remain composed, stoic. One of the fellows quiveringly bites down on his lip. For a moment, I can¡¯t stand to understand why they are all nervous¡ªand like a falling anvil, it hits me. Even though none of them particularly stand out to me, it¡¯sbecause I don¡¯t recognize any one of them that it makes me realize I don¡¯t see that reckless, red-bandanna-wearing Julius with the prosthetic limbs among them. ¡°It has been nagging at me until now,¡± I remark tersely if a little hesitant ¡°but it crossed my mind that I don¡¯t see the pilot Julius among you¡­¡± I take a few steps closer to the lined-up men, some of the stoic ones lose their composure the closer I get. A few were beginning to sweat already, if only a little. ¡°Julius¡­ is he still out?¡± I muse as I stroke the mature scar tissue over my nose bridge. ¡°I would have figured he would be among the first to arrive.¡± ¡°Madame¡­¡± one of them speaks up ¡°Julius¡­¡± he trails off, his eyes flicker for only a brief moment before he clamps them shut, teeth grit. I feel a slight tinge of fear creep up my spine¡ªhas the dice of rate cruelly taken more from me? No, it couldn¡¯t be. I don¡¯t want to believe it for even a second. ¡°Julius,¡± I whisper, trying to contain my anger ¡°where is he?¡± I ask more sternly, but none of the men answer. I quickly approach the nearest one and grab him by the collar¡°where is he?!¡± I shout again into the pilot¡¯s terrified face. But upon realizing what I¡¯ve done, I set him down. Shaken, the man collapses to the ground, breathing heavily. ¡°Julius¡­ ¡°Julius died, Madame,¡± another pilot expresses. I reel around to face the speaker: a well-toned, stern-faced man. What? No. ¡°¡­What did you say?¡± I whisper, an eye twitch and pulsating pain from my scar. I leave the paralyzed man on the floor and confront the middle-aged pilot. ¡°Do I have to repeat myself?¡± I ask nearly butting heads with the pilot ¡°¡­what did you say?¡± ¡°Julius was killed when he was trying to deliver orders to ships that failed to realize the Ruthenian motives in time. His shuttle¡­ it must¡¯ve been hit by stray shrapnel,¡± The man pauses, closing his eyes and heaving heavily ¡°by the time we investigated, the inside resembled a pile of hamburgers¡­¡± behind him, his fellow pilots wince and look away in morbid disgust ¡°¡­Julius probably never even had time to realize what was happening,¡± the pilot, having looked upwards amid my piercing gaze, finally locks eyes with me. He reaches for his back pocket and takes out a golden-scarlet bandanna¡ªone with splotches of crimson. With a shaking hand, I take it from him. If it were an anvil dropped on me earlier, then it is a grand piano that comes crashing down. I stumble a few steps back in complete shock. The true meaning of Julius¡¯s absence becomes all too clear. ¡®When this is all done and over with, and assuming we live through this slaughter, how about I treat you to the finest champagne Toscana has to offer? You can count on me¡­!¡¯ The words of that overly bold, handsome pilot ring loudly in my mind. How much more must I suffer? Like a resilient pest, that agonizing question robs me of my thoughts. Once more a promise is broken. Once more I¡¯ve lost somebody who dared get close to me. Fate¡¯s roll of the die proves yet again to be unfair. Unjust. Unequal. I fall to my knees before I know it, my body too numb from the revelation. My hands tremble once more, my grasp on the silky bandanna tightens as I bring it to my lips. None say a word, and the moment of silence fervently lingers in the air. When I do look up at the men, they return gazes with uncertainty. ¡°Well?¡± I utter ¡°what are you waiting for?¡± I point behind them at their shuttles ¡°go! I gave you all a direct order. The least you fools can do fulfill it in his memory¡ªyou can do that much, can¡¯t you?!¡± With that declaration, the men quickly give their salutes and scurry off to their shuttlecraft. With a painful grunt, I heave myself up off the floor and shuffle away from the parked shuttles. Soon after, the suffocating smoke from engine startups sweeps through the hanger block as one after the another begins their ascent. It takes me a while to find my way through the choking mist that stings my eyes but also leaves a burning sensation on my damaged tissue. But when I do find both of the cheap-looking chairs, I take my place at one of them. The cold, hard surface of the seat does little to make me feel any less miserable than I already am. I hold Julius¡¯s bandanna closely to my chest, squeezing the cloth tightly as I watch the shuttles accelerate away from the Castelforte. It pains me deeply knowing that Julius is not among them¡ªor perhaps taking a rest at my side¡ªalong with Brutus, and Olga, too. I would¡¯ve wanted to enjoy this beautiful dawning light with all three of them. But the roll of dice thrown by fate has proven time and again it will stop at nothing to see me suffer¡ªeven if it means producing a body of victims in the wake of dreadful circumstances. I do not know how much more crushing my fortunes may be, but I will never yield. I can¡¯t resign to my fate after coming this far even though I am tired of it all. I wish for nothing but for these terrible dice rolls to end. But until it does, and until I can find peace, I will endure as much as I can with the ones I have left by my side. I look down at my feet and scoop up the now-room temperature cup of watered-down cruddy alcohol. There¡¯s still more than enough of it to drink, and without another thought, I take a few grimacing gulps from it. Just as I thought, it tastes disgustingly murky than before. Only does drinking it now after all this time does it make me wish I had poured more beforehand from Brutus¡¯s bottle. At the end of it all, drinking alone simply makes me long for some company to enjoy it with. Chapter 70: Toscana Requiem | Uncertain Fates It¡¯s only after spending a decent amount of time in the shuttle bay do I find myself fed up with idly waiting around, content with keeping myself amused by twirling the empty cup in my hands. I call for a lackey passing by and instruct him to fold and put away the chairs. ¡°Do you want me to take your cup, Madame?¡± The man asks, eying my now-empty container. I shake my head and hold it close to me. ¡°Thank you, but no, I¡¯ll still be using it,¡± I reply softly. I inform the lackey that I¡¯ll be leaving the bay area, which is merely met by a silent chest salute in affirmation. Then I leave behind both the bay and the lackey keeping himself preoccupied with busywork. Traversing through the subsequent corridors, I notice that the passageways are devoid of any real activity. Except for the occasional drunk fast-asleep after extensive partying, the corridors are rather quiet. Even the glance into some rooms is full of people caught under the same spell; various beer bottles lie about. Some snore and drool while hugging large bottles of poisonous liquids. To see these sorry men in this distasteful state is, well, in poor taste. But crossing my arms under my breasts, and contemplating the moment, I can¡¯t help but come to the conclusion they deserve this. They deserve to let loose and lose themselves in irrational behavior. We have fought and endured so much, knowing that any moment could be our last. And now that it¡¯s over, they have thrown out all logic and unwind in degeneracy. Even regardless of our meager break at L¨¹beck, many must have been at their breaking point, and the scene before me makes it all the more obvious. If the fight had gone on for even a second longer, I do no doubt that there would have been aromas of mutinies abound. And yet, they trusted me with their hope¡ªwith their lives. And in parallel, I have entrusted every man to give their all. And give their all they did. I stop for a moment and wonder if I should procure a bottle or two for myself. But upon closer inspection of the bottles in question, I realize those are the same brand as the one Brutus has. I would think that trying to take one would be too difficult and require effort in prying one from the cold intense embrace that some of these men seemingly have of their bottles. To effectively steal a man¡¯s best friend from his very grasp is not something I would look forward to, and I imagine in their irrational stupor they would stubbornly resist without realizing who their ¡®assailer¡¯ is. Before moving on, the thought of Brutus crosses my mind. The imagery of the sad, towering oaf hunched over a bottle of spirits, alone in his cabin room makes my heart ache. It wouldn¡¯t hurt to head to his room instead of mine, will it? Now that the business with Skop and the other men are done and over with, I have no further obligations for the time being. So there would be no reason not to visit the man and makeup with him over my rejection. My cheeks, and especially my mature scar, flush hotly the more I deliberate on the subject. I clasp my wintry hands over them without a second thought, but all it does is warm my hands more. What am I doing¡­? I should leave the man alone. If I go now, it would only add to the awkwardness, would it not? A man and a woman, alone, together in a room, mildly, if not moderately intoxicated. Not allowing for my imagination to run rampant, I aggressively rub my scar and cut a heavy sigh. If Olga or Sergi saw me now I bet they would both remark that it would be unbecoming of me to fantasize about something so embarrassing. Olga¡­ I smack myself again and shake my head. Brutus is right, I can¡¯t rule out the possibility that she¡¯s alive. It would be wrong to¡­ do anything nefarious with Brutus,alone, in his room, under dastardly spirits. If it turned out that Olga is alive, I don¡¯t think I could look her in the eyes afterward. But even so, my heart aches badly, and in a vain attempt, I clutch my chest while soothing the burning scar tissue with my other hand. As much as I desire Brutus¡¯s company, I will have to endure this horrible loneliness for a little while longer. For his sake as well, since I don¡¯t want to make things awkward for him after our little intimacy. Perhaps it would be better to see Brutus after the two of us recollect ourselves, and after the other lieutenants¡ªRichter, Sergi, Darcy, and Jung¡ªconvene at my ship. Or rather, I imagine it would make more sense for the Donto convene at his for reporting. Whichever the case, it wouldn¡¯t hurt to lose myself to Ruthenian vodka alone in my compartment. If there is one thing the vodka and I have in common¡ªat least right now¡ªis we both lack capable company. As I stroll through the hallways deep in thought, I find myself increasingly sick, but I trudge on choosing to ignore it. Eventually, though, the dreadfulness gets the best of me, and I have to stop with deep breaths amid severe lightheadedness setting in. My arms feel nearly numb, and I can¡¯t help but think I have worked myself more than I would think is possible. The more I march on, the worse the feeling gets, and it finally compels me to stop and prop myself up against the wall. Try as I might, however, my legs refuse to go on, and I eventually collapse to the cold flooring, nearly face-first but my shoulder bores the brunt of the fall. The cold surface makes my mature scar tissue burn from the iciness. The most I can do is roll over slightly to avoid agitating the wound any further. As I let out a muffled groan, my stomach responds in kind with a mildly loud rumbling. A single thought crosses my mind: I have pushed my body past its limits. I can only afford a weak, lackluster scoff as I should¡¯ve realized exhaustion would occur one way or another. The impossible overexertion on my body from all these warps, battling, and fleet commanding all accumulated to the point where I simply can not contain it anymore, like a dam unable to hold back violent torrents of water. Even my eyelids feel as though they weigh as heavy as lead. The lightheadedness gets worse, and it feels as though my head starts to spin, but I do not yet lose consciousness. How unsightly I must be, and how embarrassing it would be if someone saw me now. And just as my vision shrinks and fades out to blackness, I hear echoes of distorted voices, but I simply cannot muster any strength to respond. There is one last thought I have before blacking out, and it is the regret of not trying that slimy Ruthenian vodka with Brutus.
The next moment, I sit up straight, dazed, and with a splitting headache that makes it difficult to make out my immediate surroundings. It truly does feel as though my head¡ªor rather, my scar¡ªhas been split open, on top of the screaming pain originating from my facial scar. Try as I might, though, no amount of massaging is capable of soothing the excruciating pain. After a few moments of painful grunts, it finally seems as though the pain subsides, albeit at a marginal pace. But it¡¯s enough for me to bear through the pain and attentively recount what happened, and observe my new environment. Sure enough, I am no longer in the cold, lifeless hallway, or passed out on the equally miserable floor. Rather, I¡¯m in my all-too-familiar cabin compartment. Leaving me to believe that the faint voice I heard was someone rushing to my aid. I must¡¯ve been far too unconscious to immediately revive, so they did what they felt was right, and carried me off to my room. Next to my bedside is a silver tray containing a half-filled glass of water and some medicine, leaving me to believe they administered me out of concern for my wellbeing. And given that the pain has more or less resided, I¡¯d say they had made the right call. Across the room comes a woosh of the door sliding, and my gaze shifts to a startled orange-haired woman carrying with her a tray of some peculiar-looking food and drinks. I smile meekly, and she calms down and approaches me with the food. ¡°Er¡­¡± the young girl sets it down and gives me some space ¡°are you feeling better¡­Madam Li?¡± The odd choice of addressing me by name makes me twitch an eye, causing her to take another step back with trembling lips. With another pained smile, I brush my bangs out of my eyes. ¡°I¡¯m still in a little bit of pain,¡± the young girl averts her eyes and fidgets ¡°but don¡¯t fret about it too much, because it¡¯s thanks to you I think I¡¯m feeling better now,¡± I reply warmly. She looks up at me with surprise, caught off-guard by the reassurance. ¡°Oh, um¡­¡± she twirls her bangs ¡°it was actually someone else who carried you back to your room. All I did was prepare the food,¡± she states as she rushes over to my bedside. She takes the medicine tray with one hand and sets the food tray down in its place. ¡°I hope you enjoy it, Madam, I did my best to cook it¡­!¡± She beams a smile as she distances herself from me. ¡°I see¡­ thank you,¡± I reach for one of the oddly shaped food, but stop. ¡°¡­Who was the one that helped you out with carrying and reviving me, then?¡± I ask the girl with a frown. Could it have been Brutus? As if further intimidated by my glare, the girl takes a step back and clutches at her coat. Before she can say anything, there is another emitted woosh from the door and I look behind her at the oversized ape ducking his head as he enters the comparably-small compartment. The squeamish girl sidesteps out of his way so he can present himself before me. Though I avert my gaze and draw my poncho over me. Brutus clears his throat before addressing me. ¡°I¡¯m relieved you recovered, Madame¡­ when Haru and I saw you unconscious, it practically made my heart skip a beat!¡± ¡°Thank you. Brutus, once again, I¡¯m sorry for causing you trouble,¡± I say apologetically, lowering my head, then turn my attention to the worried girl ¡°and thank you¡ªHaru, for making us some food.¡± ¡°Um¡­ should I give you two some privacy?¡± the orange-haired girl asks, her eyes darting between us. Brutus opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. ¡°No¡ªno,¡± I retort softly ¡°I don¡¯t mind the extra company,¡± I heartily glance at the concerned giant ¡°I¡¯m sure our friend here wouldn¡¯t mind it either, isn¡¯t that right, Brutus?¡± Taking the hint, Brutus sags his shoulders with a hearty sigh. In compliance, Haru draws up a chair and plants herself next to the nervous Brutus. He eyes Haru before looking back at me. ¡°Madame, er, about earlier¡­¡± Brutus starts dryly, scratching his chin. I shake my head and wave off the man before he can continue. ¡°Please¡­ don¡¯t fret about it too much, Brutus. You mean as much to me just as everyone else does. We were both vulnerable in that moment, and¡­¡± I trail off rubbing my disfigured cheek ¡°¡­earlier, I reflected about what you said, about it not being fair to Olga¡­ ¡°But it¡¯s not fair to you, either. You mean a lot to me, Brutus, just as much as everyone else,¡± I rub my face with both hands, my cheeks increasingly flush red ¡°er¡­I¡¯m not good at this whole making-up business. I just hope that you will continue to act as my confidant, Brutus. I need you almost as much as I need Olga.¡± A hoarse, sighing scoff. Having avoiding eye-contact with Brutus and Haru this whole time, I shift my gaze back to the duo and find Brutus has shifted his posture with one leg over the over, arms crossed. Brutus must¡¯ve been nervous if he has been twitching his leg this whole time. But upon noticing my unflinching gaze, he stops and briefly gets up to change posture. Next to him, Haru looks on with perplex, and glances behind her at the door. I can¡¯t help but think I have an unfortunate ability to put others in bad spots. Maybe I am wrong in not letting her go and avoid this awkward confrontation between Brutus and I. Brutus clears his throat. He looks at Haru before partially returning my gaze. ¡°As long as you¡¯re not mad,¡± Brutus remarks ¡°falling out of your favor would mean falling further into liquor, and believe me, the liquor makes it all the more bitter by my lonesome,¡± Brutus forces a chuckle and uncomfortably shifts around in his seat ¡°I¡¯m your Castelforte lieutenant first and foremost. So I couldn¡¯t ask for any greater honor of being able to continue serving under you,¡± Brutus says, finishing with a sigh of relief. I stiffen a smile and give a nod of approval. Sensing an opportunity, Haru clasps her hands together, catching our attention. ¡°Now then! If the lovely-dovey stuff is done¡­¡± it¡¯s a remark that makes Brutus and I emit surprised scoffs ¡°¡ªI¡¯d like for us to, er¡­ give a toast to this rekindled friendship between you two,¡± Haru gets up and snatches a few pieces of the peculiar-looking dough off the tray, then hands me and Brutus about two each. It¡¯s rather steamy, and the texture is soft, as I caress it in my hands, I can¡¯t help but find it smooth¡ªalmost rubbery. In all my time in Toscana, I¡¯ve never quite seen anything like it before. ¡°I figured you would be hungry. You didn¡¯t eat at all even during the tense ultimatum, right?¡± Brutus asks before taking a large bite out of one of the steamy dough pieces. Brutus is correct in his assumption¡ªmostly. Come to think of it, I haven¡¯t eaten since our leisure break near the Brunsb¨¹ttel Cluster colonies. As I stare intently into the pure-white texture of the steamy hot food, I¡¯d reckon I haven¡¯t even eaten since this conflict started. As if awakening from its slumber, an eerily growl resonates from my stomach. I awkwardly cover myself with my poncho and look out the window biting down on my lower lip. I hear a stiffened laughter from Brutus, but Haru remains silent. She must be suppressing a chuckle, I imagine. ¡°Even if you don¡¯t admit, I think your body agrees wholeheartedly,¡± Brutus says, stiffening another laugh. I glare back at him and he raises his hands. ¡°Sorry, sorry¡­don¡¯t give me such a mean pouty face. I just wanted to lighten up the mood.¡± ¡°It¡¯s really good, Madam!¡± Haru says excitedly, brushing off Brutus¡¯s rudeness, ¡°usually the scary chefs make all the grub, but I insisted on making something myself¡­¡± ¡°What is this, exactly?¡± I ask caressing the crescent-shaped, impressively pleated design. When I think about it, it resembles a mi hand-sized fan in a way. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. ¡°Where I¡¯m from, we call them dumplings,¡± Haru says matter of factly. She pauses and then reaches for a bowl with soupy texture in it, and carefully hands it to me. ¡°Careful! It¡¯s mildly hot,¡± the orange-haired lackey says, helping to wrap my hand around it. The bottom of the bowl keeps my hand nice and warm. It¡¯s filled with floating lumps of yellow or light-green colored¡­ things. ¡°Those are called hominy,¡± she says as she gestures for me to dip the crescent dumpling in the soup ¡°it¡¯s a bit embarrassing to say¡­ the dumpling itself is rather bland¡ªso you dip it in the sauce to soak it with flavor.¡± ¡°I see¡­¡± I murmur, submerging half of the steamy dough into the tomato-like liquid. At Haru¡¯s suggestion, I lift it out and take a bite out of it, being careful not to let any of the soupy liquid drip over me. It¡¯s warm. And surprisingly very tasty. I eat the rest and sample some of the soup with a spoon. When Haru and I exchange eye-contact, I give her a nod of approval. ¡°It¡¯s very good, Haru,¡± I remark warmly ¡°I¡¯ve never had anything like this before.¡± The orange-haired lackey radiates another smile and takes the leftovers from me and Brutus, who pats his full belly with a barbaric belch. ¡°Thank you Madam Li!¡± Haru exclaims, again brushing off Brutus¡¯s rudeness. She gives us a delightful blow. ¡°Brutus also suggested I make some tea¡­ he said he would do it himself, but you expressed distaste for it.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t mind what Brutus said,¡± I said wincing a wink at Brutus, who scoffs embarrassingly ¡°I¡¯ll drink some of it. That aside, Haru¡­ do you normally cook?¡± I ask, receiving a cup of tea from her. She looks at me briefly with a blank stare before coming back to her senses. ¡°Not usually¡­¡± she anxiously spins the silver plate in her hands ¡°since joining the, um¡­ Mafia, I usually act as a courier, sometimes I help transport goods between areas. Things like that,¡± she stops spinning the plate in her grasp and rubs the back of her head ¡°but I was lucky to get some cooking done! And seeing you two enjoy it¡ªand even seeing some of the other guys love it made me happy.¡± I look over at Brutus who takes in her every word with a nod before noticing my gaze. He takes a deep breath and nods again. ¡°Haru, once this is all over,¡± I begin warmly, getting to my feet ¡°I would like for you to be a chef for the Castelforte ¡ª¡± I pause to look briefly out the window ¡°better yet, you could serve me directly as my chef,¡± Haru looks shocked¡ªas if she didn¡¯t expect this at all ¡°the choice is yours, however, and I¡¯m not expecting an answer from you immediately¡ª¡± ¡°I, I would be honored, Madame Li!¡± She jumps toward me with dazzling eyes. She looks back at Brutus in excitement before turning to face me again, step closer, her silver plate hugging her chest ¡°if that¡¯s okay with you, I mean!¡± Bearing a pained smile, I gently pat her a few times on the head. ¡°Then it¡¯s settled, then. Once we return to Brunsb¨¹ttel, I¡¯ll get things settled for you and get you whatever you may need,¡± Haru gives me an over-excited nod of approval. After that, we finish up our meal and I gesture for the three of us to leave my room. On our way out, we are approached in the hallway by a subordinate on the bridge. He gives a solemn chest salute, which the others respond with also. Sensing that she¡¯s no longer needed, Haru happily excuses herself and runs off in the opposite direction. ¡°What a wonderful girl, don¡¯t you think, Brutus?¡± I look at him and the man shrugs with a pinkish-red face ¡°almost a darling even, I would have no qualms blessing you two if either of you decided to go steady.¡± ¡°Madame, we can talk about this later,¡± Brutus says nudging me, indicating the bridge lackey waiting for our attention. I only respond with a scoff and turn my attention to the patient man. ¡°Madame, if it¡¯s not a bad time,¡± he starts, observing me behind his dark-lenses. ¡°No, no, my apologies,¡± I brush some of my bangs and rub my mature scar ¡°I¡¯m sorry for keeping you waiting, please continue.¡± ¡°There¡¯s been a message from the Montepuez ¡ªthe Don has requested all captains and able-bodied lieutenants to convene at his ship for an emergency council meeting,¡± his eyes shift between Brutus and I ¡°as you may expect, that includes you as well. He told us he expects his daughter there in a timely manner.¡± ¡°A timely manner, huh,¡± Brutus muses in my stead while stroking his chin. He looks at me, curious at my response. Though, if I say so myself the answer is more or less already set in stone. ¡°Very well, inform him we¡¯ll be there momentarily,¡± and with that, I turn the other way¡ªbut stop. I could not have been out for long, so it¡¯s likely most of our shuttles are on business. Because of this, there will be a bit of an issue immediately converging at the Montepuez. I turn back to face the bridge lackey, ¡°actually¡­ considering that all of our shuttles are still out, ask the nearest ship to spare a shuttle and ferry us to theMontepuez. ¡°Brutus and I will be waiting in the rear shuttle bloc for transport. In the meantime, I also want the shuttle pilots to relay their information to the Don¡¯s ship,¡± with that order finalized, the bridge lackey gives the customary salute and hurries off. With a heavy sigh, I turn back and begin walking, and Brutus joins me by my side. Our brisk walk is mostly in silence, but after a while, Brutus does break the silence. ¡°To think that this is finally all over¡­¡± Brutus muses, looking out the windows. Well, Brutus is partially right. For the most part, this is all over. But there is one Brutus is unaware about; that is the impending events that will eventually play out atBrunsb¨¹ttel. I¡¯ve mostly left Brutus in the dark about my foray at the capitol¡ªhe has no idea about the coup or the possible ramifications I may face once, in the words of Simon, Kamon catches wind of my little venture ¡ªand she will, sooner or later.Watching Brutus, I can only wonder what she may do to the Castelforte ¡ªwhat she may do to men like Brutus who are innocent and had no involvement in it. Was this my real battle? Or was this merely the prelude to something bigger? I shudder at the thought of what may happen once we arrive at Side Brunsb¨¹ttel. But darker thoughts formulate¡ªwhat if my summoning to the Montepuez is merely a pretext to whatever may occur at the capitol? The more I look at Brutus, the more I wonder if it is alright for him to come with me. If it truly comes to that, I don¡¯t want Brutus¡ªor anyone else for that matter to get hurt. The only one who should be sacrificed for my failed coup is me¡ªand me alone. I clutch my chest tightly. Simon¡­ Olga, what should I do? ¡°Li¡­?¡± Brutus¡¯s concerned voice brings me back to my senses. We have arrived in the hub area and his hand hovers over my shoulder, possibly unsure of physically jolting me back to reality. ¡°What¡¯s gotten into you this time?¡± I glare into his eye¡¯s reflections at a nervous lady, and I clench my teeth. I trust Brutus. There¡¯s no doubt about that. Though he may be my confidant, not disclosing him about the true intentions of my visit to Brunsb¨¹ttel may better suit his survivability. If he doesn¡¯t know, then Kamon or the Don may not torture him. The only ones who do face prosecution¡ªat worst, death¡ªare the veteran lieutenants and the squads who went with me to meet Simon. But would the Don¡­ or even Kamon go that far into sniffing around the Castelforte? Would they waste time in seeking out the members of the conspiracy, or would they consider everyone a liability in my ill-fated venture? ¡°Madame¡­?¡± Both of his hands are planted on my shoulder now, caressing my cold neck. ¡°Who was it that said if I act so critical, I might have graying hair before I know it?¡± ¡°Sorry, Brutus, er, I¡¯m¡­¡± I clasp my hands over his and squeeze his hands tightly. I want to believe I¡¯m overthinking things. There may be no ill-intent for father¡¯s summoning. Besides¡­ my father would likely have no idea, yet, of the result of my abortive coup at the capitol. I would¡¯ve at least detected a signal¡ªencrypted or not¡ªas we marched away from L¨¹beck to relieve Velksland. Would either Simon or Kamon have reported it while I was fighting at Valspon, then? Looking up questionably at Brutus, I can only wonder what the immediate future has in store for me. It¡¯s possible, but no amount subjecting myself to tortuous paranoia can predict what will happen. ¡°You¡¯re going to give me a heart attack, Li,¡± Brutus grumbles, his hands tightening my shoulders. ¡°It¡¯s¡ª¡± I grit my teeth intently¡­ would it be alright to continue having Brutus in the dark? ¡°It¡¯s¡­ nothing, Brutus, I was merely overthinking some things. It¡¯s nothing for you to worry about,¡± I bite down nervously on my tongue before biting down intently on my lower lip. I can¡¯t do it. I simply cannot tell him the truth. Forgive me, Brutus. Forgive me, Simon. Whatever happens to me, I have no doubt I may be drawing more suspicion to you in the event something befalls me. When I next observe Brutus, he looks more overly concerned than before, but he says nothing. I hold my breath and pray: please, Brutus, please do not pry into the matter! Brutus continues to eye me closely, but he relents and lets me go. I cannot help but cut an exhaustive sigh and turn away from the man as we wait for a shuttle to retrieve us. ¡°Life after the Federation, huh¡­ well, whatever it is that¡¯s nagging at you, I won¡¯t get nosy, though, I do have to ask; what is it you plan to after we return to L¨¹beck? Will you return to your administration duties? Or did you have something else in mind?¡± What I plan to do after everything settles down? Truthfully, even though I may face execution for possible treason against the Don, I never thought about it too much. I stroke my poncho in ponder and stare intently out the windows. I do not doubt that resuming my tasks in the Mafia high command¡ªparticularly after my actions at L¨¹beck¡ªwill make Kamon grow suspicious of me over time. Craning my neck, I examine the vast number of Mafia ships cruising eastward toward L¨¹beck. With the Federation threat more or less gone, it¡¯s now only a matter of time before cohesion is lost and the navy is dismissed. It boils down to what the Don has in mind for us at his Montepuez, and rather or not we will continue to stay here for a few more days as deterrence if there is a renewed offense by the Federation. But after everything is finally said and done, many will return home, possibly to loved ones. Most will most likely go back to their boring, everyday lives managing local operations at Sides or planetary settlements. For the numerous dead, however, only the cosmic seas will be their final resting place. Leaving behind lovers, families, and any children they raised. A part of a generation raised under the Mafia, parent-less and without love, by a regime that has no sense of welfare. In a way, many children and babies will share the same fate as me. Orphans left in a cruel world robbed of their futures¡ªof a life they could¡¯ve had. In a way, I truly am no better than Karwoski. But unlike that dreadful monster, I have the power to give those deprived of loving support another shot at life. I have the chance to be to them what Simon is to me. A surrogate mother to bereaved children. ¡°Before I began the assault on the Trinidad,¡± I reply softly ¡°you said I was like a mother¡­ or a sisterly figure to the men under me. I¡¯ve sent many who perhaps found new life¡ªnew meaning in Toscana to meaningless deaths, and left-behind children who now unknowingly have no future,¡± I pause to rub my shoulders and turn to face Brutus ¡°perhaps what I am getting at¡­ is I should take an example out of Jung Lee¡¯s book and part ways with the Mafia, at least a far less active role in its everyday operations¡ªto seek out and oversee an institution for orphans that may have been produced from these needless battles. ¡°I could appoint you as a governor in my place, Brutus, if you like¡ªor even as the new captain of the Castelforte. You could even join me at my orphanage, if you like, ¡± I smile meekly, wincing at the mild pain ¡°even so, my suggestion is still up for offer for letting you get together with Haru, you know,¡± Brutus rubs his neck in contemplation, his eyes avert to the windows. He cracks a smile for a while and looks back at me. ¡°I don¡¯t know if I have the patience for kids or not, but I might be able to help you out with supplying the orphanage if need be. And besides,¡± his grin widens ¡°I think it may take a long time for the kids to get used to you. If I were a wee lad and looked up at a towering giant with an intimidating scar, I think I¡¯d wet my diapers quite frequently¡± Brutus pats me over the head, messing my hair ¡°so you might want to consider practicing changing diapers a lot,¡± the two of us spare a moment to chuckle, but there is truth in his statement as well. ¡°That aside, Brutus, if you won¡¯t join me at the orphanage, then what do you plan on doing?¡± I ask gazing out the windows. If I squint hard enough, I can see the shuttle I requested hailing the Castelforte. ¡°What do I plan to do? Hmmm¡­¡± Brutus closes his eyes and lifts his head upward, arms crossed across his chest. He heaves a giant sigh and looks back at me. ¡°Well, avoiding a life of changing pooping diapers, I¡¯d reckon I¡¯ll continue to serve the Castelforte ¡ªor wherever it is that old dog Simon or the Don will have me,¡± he strokes his neck and realizes the presence of the shuttle entering the bay ¡°I guess it wouldn¡¯t hurt to visit you every once in a while¡­ say, Li,¡± Brutus frowns and silently sighs ¡°if Olga happens to be alive¡­ would you want her to join you, as well?¡± I cross my arms under my breasts, tapping my mature scar tissue with one hand. Frankly, I didn¡¯t give it much thought. ¡°If Olga is up for it, then yes. But I want what¡¯s best for Olga, and for her to follow her dreams¡ªI don¡¯t want to force her to follow mine specifically,¡± I shrug my shoulders and sigh ¡°but knowing her, she¡¯ll blindly follow me no matter what,¡± my eyes lower to the floor and my voice softens ¡°this is just all assuming, of course, that Olga is alive¡­¡± ¡°Have faith, Madame,¡± Brutus urges me with a pat on the shoulder ¡°Olga¡¯s a tough one. It¡¯d take much more than some naval ramming to take that lanky woman down. She would never let you down by dying that easily!¡± With those encouraging words, Brutus gestures for us to board the now-landed shuttle. As the two of us board the craft, I am left to wonder with goosebumps what the aftermath of this bloody and deranged conflict entails. Will the dice rolled by destiny grace me with saving throws, or will I have to endure yet more pain on the path back to L¨¹beck? Chapter 71: Toscana Requiem | Recollections (25,000+ views milestone!!!) Neither Brutus nor I say much during our trip to my father¡¯s ship. I largely pass the time against the window, staring out at the vast starry seas. Occasionally, I glance over at Brutus, who hunches over with twiddling thumbs. Even as the shuttle lands, we depart without a word and wait around in the hub for the other lieutenants. At first, there is nobody sent by the Don to greet us. Aside from the occasional bay¡¯s crew hauling things around, who gives Brutus and I brief salutes before continuing with busywork. It would seem we arrived earlier¡ªor rather, in a timely manner than the other lieutenants. I don¡¯t recognize any of the shuttles that are present as belonging to them, but I imagine they will arrive soon. ¡°It¡¯s rather chilly in here, isn¡¯t it?¡± Brutus murmurs, roughly stroking his arms ¡°you¡¯re not cold at all, Madame?¡± ¡°Oh, that¡¯s right,¡± I remark ¡°you haven¡¯t been on the Montepuez at all, have you?¡± Brutus shakes his head. He cups his hands over his mouth and attempts to keep himself warm. ¡°I never would¡¯ve thought you would be so susceptible to coldness,¡± Brutus glares at me as if to question ¡®is that another jab at me being fat?¡¯ But shrugs while shivering. ¡°If you¡¯re that cold, I don¡¯t mind giving you my poncho,¡± I say taking one arm out of the jacket. Brutus glares at me again and shakes his head. ¡°I think I¡¯ll live. That thing is practically a security blanket for you,¡± Brutus bitterly says, his stiff hands cupped over his mouth again. I tilt my head and tap my scarred chin. ¡°Security blanket?¡± I ask warmly. The question goes uncalled, however, as I realize shuttles are approaching the Montepuez and entering its runaway lines. Compared to the Castelforte, the Montepuez hub stations are rather smaller, so we duck and sprint over to the sidelines to give the crafts some space to land. The smaller area density also means engine fumes are an issue, so I cover my face with my leathery cloak to prevent my eyes and mature tissue from burning. Briefly turning my attention to Brutus, I crack a wincing grin, ¡°here¡¯s your newfound warmth, Brutus,¡± the giant oaf only grunts in response. From the looks of things, it appears that the first to arrive is Darcy, with her lieutenants in tow. Though, Richter is not among them, leaving me to surmise that the mullet-man is in the subsequent shuttle preparing to land. Darcy and her men rush over to us while choking at the harsh engine smoke and waving the mist away. After the conditions improve, Darcy and her men are quick to present themselves with chest-salutes. Brutus and I return the favor shortly afterward. ¡°Madame, Brutus,¡± the red-haired subordinate remarks, shifting her attentive gaze at us, an earnest smile. ¡°You did great work,¡± I remark warmly ¡°it would seem I made a good decision to have you act as captain in Che¡¯s stead,¡± Darcy gushes and twirls her bangs. ¡°Once we return to L¨¹beck, remind me to reward you and your men handsomely, I think you and everyone else deserve it for your merits,¡± my wincing smile turns into a frown ¡°and as for the men at Malabo and Baltit, I shall pay them visits eventually. They suffered more than all of us combined¡­¡± I grit my teeth ¡°to face Legionnaires head-on without any chance of relief¡ªit frustrates me so. If I have arrived a second sooner¡­¡± Darcy steps forward, clasping her warm hands over me and raising them to chest-level. As if knowing trying to express facial features causes me mild pain, she smiles in my stead. ¡°I¡¯m sure Che¡¯s men would appreciate the kindness¡­ Che himself did an outstanding job. I know you have a dislike of the man, but for everyone¡¯s sake, go easy on him when you see him,¡± her hands tighten ¡°I think he deserves some slack,¡± Darcy says reassuringly. I raise my head to look Darcy in the eyes and return a pained smile. ¡°I think there¡¯s some slight misunderstanding of how I feel towards my brother. But I appreciate the words nonetheless. Darcy, from the bottom of my heart, thank you,¡± I take a step back and approach her lackeys, who seem bewildered at my sudden advance. They all take a step back as if concerned for their safety. I clasp my hands together at the waist and bow slightly. The men hesitantly murmur but say nothing. ¡°Thank you, all of you, for your heroic deeds,¡± I say softly, before bowing all the way ¡°it is not much, but please take this gesture as a token of my gratitude. All of this has happened because of my miscalculations in the grand scheme of things. I¡¯ve left all of you to fend for yourself, in the darkest shade of despair and without hope. ¡°And yet, you have resisted all the same against the enemy, You, and your fallen brethren have held out until there was nothing left to give but your blood and sweat; when abandonment sighed through your ranks. And yet, if my brother and your men did not subject themselves to bitter resistance, and instead taken the easier way out through surrender¡ªthen the battle would have surely been lost,¡± I recompose myself and gradually approach each subordinate. I look each timid man in the eyes as I earnestly give each one a handshake and a pat on the shoulder. ¡°Without your sacrifices¡­¡± I smile softly ¡°success would have only fantasy at Baltitand Malabo ¡ªeven if I suppose it was all done with a heavy price. A price I must pay for the subordinates I¡¯ve lost, and a responsibility I must bear alone.¡± All the men avert their gazes, some close their eyes, and most simply nod and give stern salutes. Afterward, I excuse myself from the men and walk towards Darcy and Brutus. ¡°Thank you, Madame,¡± Darcy says with a nod, looking past me at her subordinates. ¡°It¡¯s the most I can do for now,¡± I reply ¡°After whatever it is my father wants, I want to award everyone for their merits¡ªthough, frankly, I am not sure if the Don will permit most of it,¡± I remark grimacing ¡°it will rob me of my fortunes, but if it¡¯s for my men¡ªand yours, or rather, the men of Baltit and Malabo ¡ªthen it¡¯s a headache I am willing to undergo,¡± with one last pat on Darcy¡¯s shoulder, I turn my attention to the next captain¡ªRichter, who has been waiting nearby with arms behind his back, sly smirk. I approach Richter and give him the usual formalities, along with the appreciation of his hard work which the middle-aged captain accepts with sincerity. ¡°If you don¡¯t find the subject too sensitive, Richter,¡± I ask, guiding him towards the other captains, ¡°do you believe you managed to honor Emmanuel¡¯s memory?¡± The middle-aged man stops to look out the windows for a brief moment, before averting his gaze to my feet. ¡°I gave the Federation more than enough hell¡ªmore than what is humanly possible. I still feel it is what he would have wanted. Even before Abassi,¡± Richter tersely clears his throat ¡°even when the two of us were young and idiotic, he was stubborn about Federation advances into our criminal empire. And like Jung, he was bitter about the whole abandoning of our enterprises in Merica,¡± Richter scoffs as he continues speaking ¡°how I wish Emmanuel could have seen you obliterate those Federation formations,Madame. I imagine he would¡¯ve given a vigorous toast to their retreat,¡± Richter¡¯s smirk sags into a frown ¡°¡ªand as regrettable as it is, fate betrayed him at his finest hour,¡± his shifty eyes lock with mine ¡°I can only hope that a farewell toast will finally let him rest peace¡ªas well as a proper burial,¡± Richter remarks somberly. I give my nod while stroking the crimson bandanna of Julius. ¡°Do you want me to assist in Emmanuel¡¯s burial, or do you believe that is something you want to do yourself?¡± I ask as Richter turns away. ¡°You must have enough on your plate already, Madame,¡± Richter replies, stroking the back of his mullet ¡°but there are some things your subordinates have to do of their own accord, without outside help. This is one of them, I think Dontae, as well as the former men of the Kafraiya, can agree on as well.¡± ¡°I see¡­¡± I murmur stroking the bandanna ¡°if you need my assistance, Richter, you know, er¡­¡± I wince a frown ¡°not to be a stranger. You know I am too conscious about my subordinates¡¯ welfare,¡± I say. Richter takes a few paces toward me with a smile, his back to the others. ¡°I will keep it in mind Madame,¡± Richter says out of earshot of the others ¡°but for what it¡¯s worth, in times like these there is only so much you can accomplish by showering your subordinates with wealth,¡± he pauses and looks back at Darcy¡¯s men making their way back into the shuttle ¡°for the weaker-minded ones, however, they will accept whatever you give them. ¡°However, most appreciate the gratitude and value little speeches as you did either,¡± Richter nods his head ¡°for the wiser ones, the use of wealth is seen as a cheap-stake tactic in retaining a lasting impression,¡± Richter takes a moment to sigh ¡°I believe what I¡¯m getting at is dangling a carrot over them can only be so effective. The more you use it as a crutch, the less likely they will be convinced by your so-called concern over their welfare.¡± ¡°A sense of gratitude, huh?¡± I muse, stroking my disfigured cheek ¡°I truly do have a long way to go, it seems.¡± Richter shrugs his shoulders and faces the gathering group of people. Following his gaze, I realize more lesser-ranked lieutenants are disembarking from shuttles, but I do not make out any familiar faces, like Jung Lee or Sergi. A sly chuckle from Richter redirects my attention. ¡°Don¡¯t mind my ramblings, though. It¡¯s just something to keep in mind. If the men are happy with the illusion that you care about them, then I have no doubt you shouldn¡¯t worry about it,¡± Richter glances over at me with a heartfelt smile ¡°the men you inherited from Simon have always looked up to you as a capable leader. They have served you for years, even before Abassi, have they not?¡± After a brief thought I nod, ¡°if they didn¡¯t respect you or even acknowledge your glamorous claims of wealth, I imagine many would not willingly put their lives at stake for your sake.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t say I appreciate the sentiment of you believing I don¡¯t genuinely care about my men, Richter,¡± I reply warmly, brushing my bangs and stroking the scar above my eyebrow ¡°because I certainly do,¡± Richter rubs his neck with a defeatist smile and shrugs ¡°I reward the men within my means to do so. If they desire something other than the simple vastness of wealth, I would be more than happy to accommodate their needs. ¡°I simply want what¡¯s best for my men, and I don¡¯t want them to feel like their merits go unnoticed. I imagine that¡¯s a feeling most of them likewise share; they want to be valued and appreciated. I don¡¯t want them to think that I wouldn¡¯t otherwise,¡± I conclude stroking my scarred nose bridge. Richter acknowledges with a silent nod. ¡°That aside, considering you either served under Simon or my father, who would you say treated their subordinates better? Their welfare?¡± I ask peeking at Richter, who looks behind him at the hanger¡¯s doors as if cautious about the Don walking in any moment now. It¡¯s a question I might¡¯ve already know, but I feel hearing it firsthand from an experienced man such as Richter will help clear any doubts I have. ¡°The men¡¯s welfare, huh?¡± Richter muses, his eyes narrow ¡°back then¡ªafter the Araki days, Zhui held contempt for the men under him¡ªhe saw them¡­ or us rather¡ªas expendable thugs. Young or old, he threw whoever under the bus to save his ass. The only one that was exempt from that was Jung and Simon.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t say I¡¯m surprised,¡± I reply dryly ¡°and neither you nor Emmanuel received the same treatment?¡± Out of the corner of my eye, Richter crosses his arms, again looking behind him at the hanger¡¯s entrances, followed by a glance at Darcy and Brutus. Finally, he gives a reluctant nod. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. ¡°Zhui was a terrible man then,¡± the elderly man tersely states ¡°he was drunk on power and was no better than the wicked Araki. If you weren¡¯t in Zhui¡¯s clique¡ªthen you had no hope in moving up in the fleet,¡± Richter sighs with pained eyes ¡°appointments were rather whimsical¡ª when they happened ¡ªand many were careful to avoid his wrath¡ªsince he was quick to demote those that might undermine his authority, and worst yet,¡± Richter winces ¡°make you disappear entirely. ¡°But as the fleet grew, Zhui did grow a little soft¡­¡± Richter scoffs and I can¡¯t help but find the idea incomprehensible ¡°affairs became far less personal, it became increasingly difficult for the Triumvirate¡­¡± ¡°Triumvirate?¡± I repeat cocking my head. There is a brief pause by Richter before the middle-aged man continues. ¡°The most influential were Simon, Zhui, and to an extent Jung¡ªhe was far less involved in the fleet¡¯s inner-workings. In any case, Simon and Zhui were incapable¡­¡± Richter stops to look behind him before contemplating in silence ¡°neither of them was prepared for the surge of wanderlust that swelled our ranks by the end of the two-hundreds. It reached a point where Zui couldn¡¯t be everywhere and manage the overall state of affairs. When it came to his attention regarding increasing rapport with the men, Zhui often shrugged and let men divide spoils themselves. Sometimes, Zhui did promote some of his longtime followers to captain positions, if only because Simon desired decentralization. ¡°This also satisfied the Triumvirate¡¯s desire to maintain loyalty and cement their authority¡± Richter pauses and smirks ¡°in some ways, your style of leadership reminds me of Simon¡¯s; he would also spoil his men with promises of wealth and encouraging words. In some rarer cases, Zhui did give Simon permission to promote some men because of their talents.¡± ¡°Promotion by merit, huh?¡± I muse ¡°I never gave it much thought about promoting any officers myself¡ªaside from Dontae, and perhaps Darcy,¡± a slight frown ¡°truthfully, given how many serve me and the exploits we accomplished today, I have not the slightest idea how I would promote some without upsetting others¡­ did you and Emmanuel become captains around this time?¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t blame you for finding the decision overwhelming. Even back then, the Triumvirate faced a similar dilemma after its rise in the Zonal and Ruthenian regions. That aside, I was captain for most of the Dong Fleet¡¯s existence. And as for Emmanuel¡­¡± Richter closes his eyes, and exhales heavily through his nose ¡°there was a mass retaliation against Zhui and Simon for the late captain Araki¡¯s death. In the bloody aftermath, a dozen men like me were appointed as replacements¡ªpartly out of merit, partly out of perceived loyalty. ¡°But Emmanuel was a bit of a peculiar case¡ªhe did act as a confidant to Araki but fell out of the wicked man¡¯s favor,¡± I follow Richter¡¯s gaze at a particular shuttle slowly aligning to the Montepuez¡¯s runway lights before continuing ¡°thus, the Triumvirate had their suspicions of him. But Emmanuel proved he had no conspiracy against them, and he was instated as a captain a year or two after Araki¡¯s death.¡± ¡°I have to wonder,¡± I ask ¡°if Emmanuel still retained his position by this Araki¡¯s side, would the ploy to mutiny succeed¡ªwould Simon and the Don still attempt it, do you think?¡± I look over at Richter, curiously rubbing his chin ¡°did you participate in the uprising yourself?¡± The sage captain deflates slowly through his nose, his eyes trained on the shuttle beginning a snailish descent at an open landing pad. ¡°It would have been an interesting scenario, I would say. It could have gone one of two ways: Emmanuel realizing the odds and defecting to the Simon camp,¡± Richter continues ¡°or helping to agitate a violent skirmish. As for myself, I remained on the sides of the coup. Though Jung did give me the order to remain on standby with his mistress. But it was one he retracted; Jung believed it would bring unwanted attention to civilians like her,¡± Richter pauses to sigh ¡°of course, it came as a shock when they involved innocents regardless.¡± ¡°Considering what did happen, the outcome would be no different,¡± I refute as Richter gives me a surprised glance ¡°Black Friday¡­ I believe that¡¯s what Simon or Jung once told me the incident is referred to as. At least a hundred casualties, maybe less. Fa¡ªI believe that¡¯s what her name was¡ªwould¡¯ve been involved even if Emmanuel remained a confidant and opposed the conspiracy against Araki. ¡°But that does beg the question; who instigated the counter-coup?¡± Richter¡¯s eyes widen for a moment and he turns away from me ¡°even if Araki tossed Emmanuel aside¡­ there¡¯s a possibility he felt my father¡¯s mutiny was undeserving.¡± Richter, who has been crossing his arms, lets his arms drop freely for a while before ponderously stroking his chin. ¡°Emmanuel¡­¡± Richter partially faces me, eyes to the shuttle and its disembarking shuttle¡ªamong them the admirable Beatrice. My eyes glance back at Richter, expecting him to continue, but he merely continues to frown. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I state tersely ¡°you don¡¯t have to answer that¡­ I should¡¯ve realized this would be a sensitive topic for you. I do not mean to cast the late captain in a bad light,¡± I take a step forward ¡°he has served me¡ªthe Mafia, well. I would not let one¡¯s actions from even before my time change my opinion of him.¡± ¡°Even after all these years,¡± Richter replies wryly ¡°it remains a mystery to me. None of us were ever able to seek who the ringleaders were. The incident was personal for Simon and Jung¡ªthey acted irrational and had no patience to find the conspirators. Emmanuel, was, of course, a prime suspect of sorts¡ª¡± Richter¡¯s gaze shifts to me ¡°but I argued that he was innocent. And I stood by that reasoning for many years. I did not want to doubt my best mate. I reasoned that he had nothing to gain from a reprisal. Araki was dead: killing the new captains in charge would only lead to a further descent into anarchy. ¡°Emmanuel never spoke of the incident himself. Was he skeptical of the coup? Yes; but after Simon¡¯s massacres, he quickly swore fealty to Zhui and remained obedient ever since. After he got the Kafraiya, the two of us kept our heads low and never pursued elevating ourselves in the ever-growing pirate fleet,¡± Richter nodded his head ¡°particularly more so Emmanuel. He was a living relic¡ªthe last old-guard of the dreadful Araki days. ¡°Emmanuel once told me he learned from his mistakes with Araki¡ªbut he never lived in fear of Zhui. He held nothing but respect for the man. I liken that Zhui respected him, too,¡± His gaze drops to the floor ¡°despite the Don¡¯s erratic behavior, I imagine he will be distraught to learn that a great man fell today, to perish here at this dreadful battleground in such a despicable matter¡­ if I had only reached out to him sooner¡­¡± Richter trails off, clenching his fists. We spend the remainder of our time together in silence. Sometime later, Richter and I are joined by the unkempt Beatrice: Darcy and Brutus closely trailing her. After our customary exchange of salutes, I look behind Beatrice¡¯s group for signs of certain familiar faces disembarking shuttles¡ªbut find none. ¡°It¡¯s been irking me for a while,¡± I ask the others ¡°but Sergi and Jung Lee are still not present¡­ do any of you know their whereabouts?¡± I ask, and the others look mildly concerned, aside from Beatrice. Yet, nobody speaks up about it other than a charade of frowns and chin strokes. Finally, Darcy¡¯s eyes light up. ¡°None of us were able to get in contact with the Wulfhere,¡± the red-haired woman says ¡°not during the battle¡ªand not even after the ultimatum ended. Its captain did broadcast one message, however: ¡®Wulfhere sustained moderate damage¡ªminor crew losses. Still capable of fighting¡¯,¡± Richter glances at Darcy before she continues ¡°¡ªthat was the only real status report it gave. Other than that it was typical brief orders to some of its ships after you arrived.¡± How odd of Jung, but I don¡¯t think much of it. Considering he had suffered the brunt of the Federation assault, I figure he will simply need more time to recollect himself before coming. ¡°Sergi?¡± Brutus intrigues, cutting the silence. It occurs to me that despite both acting as confidants to me, neither has actually interacted with the other. Before I can confide in him the likeness of Sergi, however, Brutus slaps himself upright on the head as if reading my thoughts. ¡°Ah¡­!¡± He groans ¡°that¡¯s the other bloke that hangs around you!¡± ¡°Does that invoke jealousy in you, Brutus?¡± I ask Brutus warmly. The other girls offer their chuckles in kind. Before anyone can answer, my shuttle¡¯s pilot runs up to us, slightly panting. ¡°Madame!¡± She exclaims, catching her breath ¡°it almost slipped my mind¡ªa message was passed on to me from the Hugh: for the time being, Sergi decided to stay behind to evaluate the damage from before.¡± For a brief moment, I¡¯m unable to comprehend what she means. But it does hit me eventually. ¡°Sergi¡ªdid he allude to checking up on Olga and the other stragglers?¡± I inquire, but the Castelforte adjutant averts her eyes when the others eye her ¡°for goodness sake¡­¡± I pinch my nose bridge while gritting my teeth ¡°the man should¡¯ve dispatched a subordinate to do it for him. Does he intend to incur the wrath of the Don?!¡± After calming down, it strikes me that despite all my claims for caring for the welfare of my men, it has never crossed my mind to do what Sergi has done. The haunting realization of hypocrisy creeps up on me. I was so fixated on confronting my father that I never stopped to consider what matters to me the most: the well-being of Olga and her men. Am I a fool? Have I unknowingly used Olga as a stepping stone this entire time? With an agitated sigh I rub my scar and attempt to push my way through the group¡ªbut Beatrice steps in my way with crossed arms. ¡°Beatrice?¡± I ask cautiously. A couple of her lackeys stand imposingly behind her. What is this about all of a sudden? ¡°Madame, don¡¯t forget you have been summoned by the Don ¡ªyour father,¡±Beatrice states coldly ¡°Sergi¡¯s presence is not important, and I doubt even the Don cares if some lowly officer comes or not,¡± Beatrice says with that serpent gaze of hers ¡°but you are important, and I don¡¯t doubt he would get upset and lash out at your subordinates in your absence, you wouldn¡¯t want that, would you?¡± She asks as I grit my teeth ¡°you had all the time after the Federation withdrawal to check up on your men. If anything, your man is doing it on your behalf¡± she scoffs ¡°on his initiative¡ªfrom the sounds of it. That¡¯s a characteristic any one of us would kill to have in our lieutenants, don¡¯t you think?¡± ¡°Are you intending on holding me hostage?¡± I coldly retort, pushing up against her. Her men step closer, but she gestures for them to stay put. ¡°I¡¯ve looked up to you with respect, and this is how I am treated?¡± ¡°My, believe me when I say I¡¯m rather flattered to hear that from you,¡± the unkempt beauty says, gently stroking my cheek scar with a finger ¡°I¡¯m only acting in everyone¡¯s interest, Li. I don¡¯t want you or your subordinates to incur any wrath. Nobody deserves to incur that bastard¡¯s wrongdoing¡ªnot after everything we¡¯ve been through,¡± she finishes as I grab her stroking hand and lower it from my face. ¡°I just have to conform with this despicable confrontation, and then I am free to go, is that it?¡± I ask trying to contain my resentment, puffing air into Beatrice¡¯s face. Though I hate to admit it, the woman is correct. It would be selfish of me to leave the others to the Don¡¯s unpredictable character. The least I can do is be the representative member of all the captains. It¡¯s what I have done in the past, and it is what I will do now. I¡¯m sorry, Olga. I hope you can find it in you to forgive me. Although it may not be me, leaving it up to Sergi is the most I can suffice at the moment¡­ Beatrice is right. I wasted too much time in observing the Federation withdrawal and should¡¯ve gone to you earlier. ¡°My, my,¡± Beatrice coos taking a few steps back ¡°people always remark I am scary¡ªbut on the contrary, I suppose they don¡¯t call you the Madame Scarface for nothing,¡± Beatrice¡¯s men scoff but she shoots them a glare and they stiffen up ¡°but yes¡­ you¡¯ll have my gratitude if you stay until at least the Don dismisses us. I don¡¯t want to stay a minute longer here¡­ I prefer it on the Shiva,¡± and with that, the alluring woman passes through us with her men, and leads the way into the Montepuez¡¯s interior. One after another, the others reluctantly follow her in silence. And as I look back, I notice one last shuttle entering the Montepuez¡¯s runway lights. It¡¯s a shuttle I somewhat recognize¡ªone that Jung first arrived on when he came out of retirement. But rather than wait for the man¡¯s arrival, I decidedly stride to catch up with the main group. It might be a little cold, but Jung will have to go unreceived by me this time. The longer I keep father waiting, the more irritated he will get. Jung will just have to accept the lukewarm reception and join us on his own. Chapter 72: Toscana Requiem | A Madames Concerns It was only a few days ago now. Shuffling through these levels of twisting and turning corridors and learning of the dire news unfolding at Valspon. It is here where my nightmarish cast of the dice began: of being thrown once more into an impossible duel with destiny. And as our company silently marches up the flight of stairs, it is only fitting that it is also here where the curtains descend on the Toscana stage. We have won at Valspon. And we have won here at the bloody fields of Velksland. The Mafia has triumphed in its darkest hour and savors every moment of its hard-fought victory from the jaws of total defeat. But even so, though the Mafia¡¯s fight is over, I would go as far as to say that mine has yet to see a fitting end. As Simon told me, my mistakes at Brunsb¨¹ttel will not go unnoticed. If my father truly did forward a contingency plan ahead of my departure, then I have no reason to believe that Kamon must¡¯ve picked up on it also. I have persevered for so long until now because of obedience to the Don. Much like Richter and Emmanuel have done in their prime, I have kept my head low and never once used any influence I held against my father. Simon has often shielded me from the Don¡¯s wrath¡ªbut there¡¯s no telling if I can escape any potential fury now. But who knows if Simon can exert his influence and protect me once more? With rising anxiety, my heart beats faster. A sense of dread forms in my throat. My arms feel increasingly numb as my chest and damaged facial tissue ache with mild pain. With long, elaborate breaths I slip the fiery bandanna from underneath my poncho and caress its fine texture. The closer we get to the command center¡ªwhere we were told that the Don waits¡ªthe more stressed I become. I want to tell myself that this is merely nothing. That there will be no consequential action¡ªthat I am overthinking and reading too much between the lines. Perhaps theDon will overlook my attempted coup at L¨¹beck in light of my accomplishments here and at Baltit. But perhaps he might just be paranoid enough about what my coup attempt might mean in the future¡ª if she¡¯s willing to go this far today, what would stop her from doing it again? That is what I imagine him thinking. And as for Kamon? For better or for worse, and given my brief interactions with her¡ªI simply do not know. I don¡¯t even want to know how or what she may make of this ordeal. Perhaps she may be even more cautious from here on out. Perhaps she may whisper sweet nothings into Zhui¡¯s ear, or she will simply keep me on a tighter lease. But I do not want to be like the Don and sink further into paranoia. For now, I have to firmly believe that this is nothing more than giving the Don a debriefing. As evil as the man may be, he is still the Don ¡ªthe chief leader of the Mafia. He has the right to know what remains of his fleet, and what actions we may take to ensure that a calamity like this never happens again. But that¡¯s just wishful thinking. Only a fool would believe that the Federation will truly leave us alone. ¡°Madame?¡± I nearly bump into a particularly large individual as the question snaps me back to reality. Brutus helps to keep me steady before giving me personal space. ¡°You look awfully pale,¡± the oaf asks with morbid curiosity ¡°if you need to rest in the infirmary, I can take you there¡ª¡± ¡°No,¡± I retort ¡°it¡¯s fine, thank you, Brutus,¡± I say in a lighter tone. Looking behind him, the others have stopped to glance back. ¡°I¡¯m just¡­ slightly nervous about the meeting with the Don. Now that it has come to this, I mean.¡± ¡°Nervous?¡± Brutus can¡¯t help but crack a brief smirk ¡°I admit, your father¡­ er, theDon is rather terrifying,¡± glancing behind the man¡¯s enormous frame, Beatrice emits a quiet scoff and rolls her eyes. ¡°By the way, I figured this is a white elephant in the room right now¡ª¡± Brutus pauses and looks partway at the others ¡°but why are we being summoned to the Montepuez, anyway?¡± Brutus asks innocently ¡°it would simply be easier to communicate from our ships, would it not? It¡¯s less hassle, wastes less fuel¡­¡± as Brutus continues, Beatrice and I exchange glances. ¡°And speaking of which, Beatrice, I don¡¯t understand why you have so many subordinates with you,¡± Brutus finishes. Beatrice breaks her gaze with me and crosses her arms under her breasts, ¡°it¡¯s going to be a pretty crowded room with all the men you have with you.¡± ¡°Worry not, Brutus¡­ was it?¡± Beatrice replies slyly ¡°there¡¯s no real reason. They merely adore my presence,¡± her squinting eyes slither towards me ¡°I will send some to the bridge and have a few others wait outside until the meeting adjourns. I¡¯ve also been sort of¡­ cautious about the Don¡¯s questionable ethnic of having all his captains in person. Some of my men were also equally,¡± Beatrice pauses for a sigh, ¡°anxious and desired to escort me to the Montepuez, but so far it has been eerily quiet, hasn¡¯t it?¡± Beatrice asks offhandedly ¡°it¡¯s less lively than on the Shiva¡­ a rather lukewarm welcoming, no?¡± This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. Neither Brutus nor Beatrice¡¯s comments have crossed my mind. There¡¯s no particular reason for us to be in person, and Beatrice having guards with her is something I¡¯ve never given much thought about. But now that it¡¯s brought up, I can¡¯t help but feel there is more meaning to what Beatrice suggests. Men concerned for her wellbeing? Lukewarm welcoming from the Montepuez, and its crew behaving eerily calm? The longer I glare at Beatrice, the more I begin to wonder if this intriguing woman knows of my abortive plans at L¨¹beck. She and the Shiva have always acted as part of the Don¡¯s fleet guard. If anything ever got past the Don¡ª such as a transmission¡ªshe could very well know regardless of encryption. I never took her for suddenly having doubts of the Don ¡ªshe is one of the few core lieutenants who has had unflinching loyalty to the dreadful man. Whatever happened during my absence¡ªand particularly during the ensuing battle¡ªmust¡¯ve caused her to think less highly of the Don. If that is the case, does she share my sentiment about a possible confrontation with my father? ¡°Don¡¯t look at me so haughtily, Madame Li,¡± Beatrice says brushing some of her unkempt bangs out of her eyes. I can¡¯t help but cut loose a scoff, one that makes Brutus and the others lightly chuckle. But suspicions aside, looking over at Darcy, she also has some subordinates with her. But when she looks at me intriguingly; Darcy merely shrugs. ¡°I didn¡¯t think much of it,¡± the red-haired subordinate remarks wryly ¡°they offered to come. It didn¡¯t cross my mind until Beatrice brought it up,¡± she pauses, ¡°but who am I to doubt the Don? Maybe he just wants reassurance with all of us present,¡± Darcy muses. With nothing more to say, Beatrice gives me one last smirk and proceeds with leading the group to the tactical command center. Darcy and the others follow suit, leaving Brutus and I alone in the hallway. Still caressing the bandanna, Brutus takes a few steps closer to me and places his burly man hands over mine. I crane my neck upward to see the oaf smirking. ¡°Well well, what a tense atmosphere that was,Madame. But thinking about it some more, I think Darcy is right,¡± Brutus says confidently ¡°I don¡¯t think the Don has any ill intentions in mind. He¡¯s scary, for sure, but I imagine he¡¯s concerned over what his options are for the future,¡± Brutus states squeezing my tiny hands before quickly letting go and giving me some personal space, ¡°you¡¯re just overthinking things, Li,¡± Brutus says gesturing for me to catch up with the others ¡°that¡¯s a job for me to do¡ªyou said I was a worrywart, didn¡¯t you?¡± Brutus grins, before moving on. I stand there, going back and mulling over the idea of telling him the unfortunate consequences that may befall us as a result of my deliberations at L¨¹beck. But when I think of the possible irrationalness that Brutus may do, I can¡¯t help but be reminded of Olga. My heart sinks, and I squeeze Julius¡¯s colorful bandanna tighter before slipping it back into my poncho. I shake my head clear of the thoughts before catching up to accompany Brutus and the others. Perhaps Brutus and Darcy are right¡ªI¡¯ve been overthinking things too hard. There would be no particular reasoning for the Don to punish me and the others after the bloody brawl we valiantly fought through. I have shed so much blood and tears to preserve his regime¡ªam I wrong to jump to conclusions? As much as I believe the man to be a paranoid lunatic, it would cause tremendous discord throughout the fleet. Even the Don would still have some sense of rationality left to consider that. It would unravel virtually everything that I¡¯ve done here. I want to firmly believe that the Don is willing to overlook the L¨¹beck gambit. Maybe convincing him of my desire to start an orphanage will lessen his and Kamon¡¯s fears of any further ploys I may produce. I can only hope that either will allow me to raise orphans¡ªit means staying out of the affairs of the Mafia while I live out a life in harmony. With that thought in mind, I heave a sigh. I can only hope that either will permit me to live in seclusion, without bother. Good or bad, I have done all that I am capable of for the Mafia. But what will the Mafia¡ªor rather, Dong Zhui¡ªdo for me in return? Chapter 73: Toscana Requiem | A Dons Lament, A Scarfaces Plea In the corridor leading into our destination, we pass by unfazed subordinates who do not even stop to give customary salutes. Most of their expressions are grave; as if deeply concerned by something. But their zombie-like slumbering is nothing that particularly concerns me: the atmosphere of the Montepuez has been particularly grim. Although it has been a few hours since the Federation withdrawal, I still expected at least some sense of liveness, some second wind lightheartedness by the crew. But Beatrice¡¯s comment has been largely correct. The Montepuez has been chilly in more ways than one. But since the Don¡¯s ship has been in continuous combat with the Federation and Ruthenian fleets, I can only surmise that most are simply far too exhausted to spare a moment of celebration. Seldom is the sight of seeing men and women letting themselves unwind at their leisure. But I frequently observe them clumsily shuffle about in shock, as if still coming to terms with our victory. Given the nature of serving the Don directly and having to deal with his antics daily, I can only feel sorry for these fellows forgoing their youthfulness. Beatrice orders some of her men to wait for us back at the bridge. Although the other two remaining with her were supposed to wait outside, Beatrice must¡¯ve had a change of mind and decides to let them come inside with us. ¡°There¡¯s no particular reason,¡± Beatrice muses sheepishly ¡°they aren¡¯t dogs¡ªand it is freezing out here, is it not?¡± She asks to which her subordinates nod ¡°now then, without further ado¡­¡± Beatrice taps the door¡¯s side panel, and we proceed to enter one after the other. After one strenuous inhale, I enter last. A sense of odd nostalgia being in here: seeing terrified subordinates cowering like headless chickens at the thought of a Federation advance in our rear, the Don¡¯ssmashed table, the verbal threat from the man himself which set everything in motion, and the awful purple carpeting dimly lit by the command center¡¯s shabby ceiling lights. It all started here, and it is here where it ends. The air in here is particularly stiffer than outside. It is eerily quiet: there is no one here other than us, other than the man himself: Dong Zhui. The larger-than-life man has been standing at the far end of the room next to a window panel. His back to us; in his left hand a glass of alcohol. When we entered, there was not so much as a side glance from the Don. Even after we present ourselves with customary salutes, the Donmakes no effort in battling an eye in our direction. Not a sound, not so much of an acknowledgment from the chief captain. The only ambiance in the room is the slow tick of the clock, which I feel only serves to make things unnerving. When I peer at the others in line, most of them other than Richter and Beatrice are just as seemingly nervous about this as I am. Beatrice returns eye contact, but says nothing and returns to staring ahead at the Don. We wait for what seems like a hundred ticks, and maybe more. The Don in this time merely waits by the window, basking in the Toscana light as he bears witness to the gradual stream of Mafia ships redirecting flight-paths presumably back to the nearest Clusters. The Don has next to him an end-table containing a tray with several hand-rolled cigars, all of which appear poorly-made but none smoked. Additionally, there is a bottle of nearly-empty liquid. Any moment now, I expect the man to throw the glass across the wall. With each bated breath, I keep making the spell of the ticking to be broken by screaming of theDon¡¯s subversive expectations. But they remain as fantasies¡ªthe ticking continues unopposed. The Don never once averts his gaze. No one in the room utters so much as a word. If it were not for the clock, I imagine one could make out the short, bated breaths more clearly. A thousand more ticks. A hundred more tocks. Eventually, the Don does stretch his shoulders, then slides his right hand into his pocket. He turns part-way to face us at first¡ªhis ugly, purplish rotting flesh and the darker blotches of his beard running through it becomes much more apparent. But his eyes don¡¯t show contempt¡ªthey don¡¯t show anger. They don¡¯t show bloodshot eyes ready to punish us. There is only¡­ relief, I could say. Sadness of sorts; uncertainty. ¡°¡­It¡¯s funny,¡± Dong Zhui murmurs, before taking a small sip from his booze. I expect him to become more animated, but the man continues to defy expectations. I merely stiffen up, clearing my throat in the process. With a minor limp, the Don walks towards us. His soles pressing onto and sliding across the ugly purplish carpet almost in tandem with the ticks of the clock. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Beatrice¡¯s two men stiffen up. Beatrice herself inhales deeply. The ever mighty and fearsome Don approaches us mellowly and quietly. His eyes averted to our feet. By the time he reaches us, I reckon most of us are largely tensed up in nature. Some still bating their breath, unsure of what the Don¡¯s erratics may entail. The lack of oxygen makes me a little woozy at best, but I attempt to keep myself disciplined. The first in formation to be confronted by the passing Don is Beatrice¡¯s men. After the Don inches by them and subsequently, past Beatrice, the two henchmen collapse unheeded: Beatrice doesn¡¯t flinch a muscle. The Don stops briefly, and without turning his head looks off to the side with a subtle nod. He resumes his limping trot before again coming to a stop before me and Brutus. He cranes his head slightly to get a clearer view of me and the ogre. Brutus clenches his fist, but I brush my hands against his and squeeze his in an attempt to soothe him¡ªwhich he relents. I quickly look back at the Don before lowering my head and glaring at the ground before him. I look up in time to see the Don take another sip from his glass. Zhui resumes his impromptu inspection of the group without interruption and silently tramples over his broken desk back to the window. With eyes trained on Zhui, I sense Brutus whisking out of line to assist with the lackeys¡¯ stabilization. Likewise, Beatrice must¡¯ve done the same as I hear her kneel and murmur about their wellbeing. Dong Zhui swishes his wine glass without a word, and without regard to the incident he caused. His back remains to us as before. Before long, and after an uncountable amount of ticks, the lackeys recover and are sent out of the room with the help of Darcy¡¯s lackeys. Zhui finishes his drink, sets it down, and grabs the wine bottle to pour some more¡ªat least that¡¯s what I expected. Rather, Dong Zhui pauses just before pouring it over the glass, lasting for only a few ticks of the glass. He tilts the bottle upward and sets it down on the tray, his burly hand still clasped around the bottle. ¡°This room used to be much more crowded¡ª suffocating, even,¡± the Don expresses somberly, gripping his bottle intently, ¡°it made me wish I could¡­,¡± he pauses to tilt his head ¡°renovate a little. Make the command center larger.¡± The Don proceeds to pour out what remains of the bottle into the glass which is barely enough to fill the cup: much less than half, and more than a few spits. ¡°And now here we are, surrounded by an aura of loneliness¡­¡± the erratic Don continues with a muse. He takes one gradual gulp of the glass and lets out a disheartening sigh. ¡°And now this lovely little room seems awfully big now, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Zhui asks, to which the question lingers in the air without an answer. After the question runs its duration, Zhui continues ¡°no presence of Jung Lee, and the Wulfhere has shut me off entirely¡­¡± Dong Zhui states grimly but stops when I begin to speak. ¡°The original shuttle he came in from L¨¹beck arrived after we exited the hangar bay ,¡± I reply, ¡°but I did not wait around long enough to see who the passengers were,¡± I reach up to rub my disfigured cheek, wincing a little, ¡°I know not of what happened between you two, but perhaps Jung departed for his home on L¨¹beck and allowed a subordinate to come in his place,¡± when I finish, Zhui nods and strokes his fat chin. ¡°It does seem like something the Wulf would do,¡± Zhui said, exchanging gazes with, presumably, Beatrice, ¡°I understand he has a baby on the way,¡± a furrowed brow ¡°but to leave without saying good-bye¡ªI thought better of the man. In any case, we will find out soon enough, if what you say, my lovely Li, is true about the shuttle you recognized earlier,¡± my father says, broadly stroking his beard. ¡°The Wulf aside¡­ Darcy,¡± Dong addresses solemnly. I notice in time the red-haired lackey shuddering at the mention. The man takes a lumbering approach to her. With all eyes trained on the Don, we watch helplessly as he slowly extends a hand to caress her chin. The gesture must¡¯ve made Beatrice in particular uneasy, as I hear her dig her heels into the purplish carpet. ¡°My boy, my sweet little boy,¡± Zhui whispers, ¡°I can¡¯t possibly wrap my head around why he is not here, among our ranks, taking in the wonderfully crafted spectacle that his highly-esteemed sister has accomplished!¡± Zhui says it with such aggravation that I cannot help but grind my teeth. We make brief eye-contact before I dart my gaze. Even from where I stand, I can hear the deep exhales of the Don. ¡°Why, so tell me why you are here in his stead, hm?¡± My father interrogates, trying to keep his voice down, ¡°tell me why my son went to Valspon¡ªbut the three of you return without the man accompanying you? Hm?¡± The more I grit my teeth, the more frustrated I become ¡°if anything has happened to that boy. If his wonderful sister so happened let him die in vain¡­¡± ¡°Enough!¡± I shout, just as I look up in time to see Beatrice nearly literally step out of line. She immediately recedes before the Don looks back at us. ¡°Che¡­¡± I say with meager strength, ¡°Che is alive. But the siege drained him of energy. So he loaned Darcy and what fighting force he could scrounge for me,¡± I clear my throat, reaching into my poncho to grab Julius¡¯s bandanna and use it to gently¡ªstingily¡ªdab my disfigured scar tissue. Not once do I look at the Don, or Beatrice. Beatrice on the other hand cuts a slight sigh. Clenching the bandanna I stash it back into my poncho, as theDon replies with a few grunts and breaks off from his position with Darcy. ¡°I see, I see,¡± the Don grunts as he lumbers away from Darcy, the scratching of his beard very much apparent, ¡°I see¡­, I¡¯m sorry for losing my temper, miss Darcy,¡± I look up to see the Don look back, seemingly sincere in his apology. ¡°That boy means a lot to me¡ª sentimental, even. So long as the boy is not in critical condition, I won¡¯t have to lose myself in¡­ extreme tempter. I hate to admit it, but maybe I should¡¯ve listened to Simon after all and sent Li¡­ or, maybe¡­¡± the sage Don trails off with a mumble, scratching his grizzly chin yet again. Zhui nods a couple of times, ponderously stroking his poorly maintained beard a few more times before turning back to the windows. ¡°But that aside¡­ Emmanuel, where is he?¡± The burly Don asks, taking a shot from his glass, ¡°he put up an admirable fight¡ªbut after your arrival, I was unable to keep track of the situation down south. Things got¡­ hectic,¡± the Don asks, staring into his glass as he shakes it, ¡°far, far too hectic,¡± he finishes ushering in a wave of silence. Frozen, I look over at Richter, who wears a pained expression. His fists are shaking; clenched tightly. The man¡¯s lips tremble, as if reluctant about being the bearer of bad news himself. His gaze shifts to me; a cast of doubt in his eyes. Perhaps he can¡¯t bring himself to do it. ¡°Captain Emmanuel¡­¡± Richter speaks up, but I abruptly cut him off. ¡°Captain Emmanuel of the Kafraiya was killed in action, father,¡± I declare tersely, ¡°he fought valiantly until the end¡ªand was killed by a stray shrapnel by a lone Federation destroyer that I failed to notice¡ª¡± I reach into my poncho at Julius¡¯s bloodied bandanna and grip it intensely, ¡°I failed to secure the battlefield thoroughly,¡± I wrap the bandanna between my fingers, squeezing at the fine texture, ¡°it is by my actions that I hold his death accountable,¡± I finish shooting a glance at Richter. The mullet-haired captain attempts to speak up, but ultimately shrugs his shoulders and resigns with a nod. I look back at the Don, clearing my throat in anticipation of the punishment sure to come. But nothing comes out of it. The Don, as he were, gulps from his cup with a slightly trembling hand. And then nothing. The unwelcoming air of uncertainty suffocates the room more as we await the man¡¯s reaction. The Don takes two more sips, several clock ticks apart before he turns to face us. He looks troubled¡ªconcerned. His eyes squint as if doubting what he has heard¡ªas if hoping that I remain in jest. The Don is fazed, to say the least. His eyelids twitch, and his face winces a couple of times. He opens his mouth, expecting to roar about this being a joke. But nothing escapes his lips. His gaze falls to the floor and he shuts his eyes, pained. As the clock does a few cycles of ticks, Dong Zhui opens his eyes again. He recomposes himself and adjusts his collar. With a sincere wince, he bears a smirk. His narrow eyes squint in pain. He shakes his head, continuing with another pained scoff here and there. Then, to my shock, Zhui abruptly hurls the glass at the clock, shattering both the silverware and the artisan-made clock in a mess of pieces. It all happens so fast, I nearly expected him to throw it at us. ¡°Strangely,¡± Dong states dryly, ¡°for some reason or another¡­ the drink got bitter¡ª¡± he jerks his head to the side, ¡°I would¡¯ve hoped¡­, ¡± a clear of his throat, ¡°to indulge in it with Emmanuel, and at the very least Jung. But what point is there to continue drinking this piss-water if either aren¡¯t here?¡± Zhui finishes sorrowfully. Without another word, Zhui brushes his eyebrows and turns away from us. ¡°For so many years¡ª for so many decades , I wondered if ol¡¯ ¡®raki¡¯s legacy would outlive me,¡± the Mafia Don muses, ¡°I always felt that one day¡ª any day ¡ªwould be my last. But over time, I stopped caring about the last connections to ol¡¯ ¡®raki. Emmanuel was still a little older than me. I knew his day would come eventually,¡± Dong trails off with a few silent nods, ¡°I knew better than anyone that Emmanuel held nothing against me. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings. ¡°I wanted to reconcile with him, just as I hoped to come to terms with Jung¡ªgive the ol¡¯ Wulf a proper sendoff to owe up for these years ago,¡± Zhui caresses the now-empty bottle ¡°a ninety-year-old one-of-a-fucking-kind champaign from Terra,¡± Zhui scoffs ¡°and it tastes like wonderfully well-produced shit, too. But it was our most prized possession for the three of us. We first opened it after deposing ¡®raki. Then we drank some more to celebrate Emmanuel being reinstated in the fleet. And lastly drank most of it after Abassi and seizing Toscana,¡± Zhui finishes by flicking the bottle and watching in silence as it rocks in place before tipping over. ¡°Ancient piss-water,¡± Zhui grumbles, shaking his head, ¡°being finished off by a victory diluted of nectar. I¡¯ve always been moved by oh, so romantic poets, but there¡¯s nothing nectarous about this,¡± Zhui says, running his hands through his face and recomposing himself. ¡°Well, not to monologue any longer,¡± Zhui says, turning to face me ¡°I hope you have wonderful news to share with me regarding our remaining strength?¡± The Don asks, wincing at the question, ¡°frankly, I don¡¯t want to know how little our odds will be in the forthcoming future, but what¡¯s a little more gut-punchers from my beautiful, ever so wonderful daughter?¡± With a heavy sigh, I rely upon the Don information our group received while passing by the bridge. Although there is still a slow, strenuous amount of them being transmitted from the Castelforte in particular. We learn that throughout the Velksland battle, at least seventeen of the twenty-nine lesser-ranked lieutenants having autonomous command or those serving under various captains such as Jung or Emmanuel were killed. Other than those captains, in particular, numerous other officers participated specifically at Velksland. Of those, there were roughly about five in all¡ªother than the aforementioned Jung or Emmanuel¡ªthree of which perished defending the Mafia. Of those who served with me at Valspon¡ªincluding Che¡¯s relief force¡ªthere were about forty-three lesser lieutenants and about nine captains. Our ship losses were negligible at the skirmish with the Ides formation battle. Most of our casualties¡ªalthough ather minor¡ªwere sustained at Baltit, as well as the subsequent Metropolitan retreat to Side Malabo and the Frankish Domains. From the brief head-count I did on our return to L¨¹beck, most survived the conflict at Valkspon. Reports are scarce on the renewed head-count here, but the output seems grim; it could be that nearly fifty percent of my fleet officers were annihilated in the ensuing battle. I do not want to even think about how many actual crew-members lost their lives today. It could be anywhere from a few thousand to a number shy of a hundred-thousand. I¡¯m not too keen on knowing, and perhaps it would be better that way; for my mental well-being. When I conclude my findings, Zhui paces at the window panels, nodding all the while. He strokes the putrid side of his face, stops, and turns to face me. But he doesn¡¯t say so much as a word and continues to pace back-and-forth by the window panel. Finally, after a few cycles of the ticking clock, Zhui pauses to cross his arms. A gradual tap of his index finger. ¡°The Federation¡­¡± the Don murmurs, his eyes on the remains of the broken clock and silverware spayed all over the ugly carpeting, ¡°I can¡¯t say for sure if the lovingly wonderful¡­ tactic to hold their capital ship hostage was a good one,¡± a brief pause for a hefty sigh, ¡°or to be a maniac and let them go¡­, but it has ceased hostilities, and saved the Mafia single-handedly. But; the question remains¡ªdo you think the Federation will attack again?¡± I can sense all concerned eyes being trained on me. I caress the bandanna from underneath my poncho while pondering how to answer. Or, really, to predict what the Federation may do, reflecting on my conversation with Victoria about the Federation¡¯s business out here in Toscana. ¡°I do not believe the Federation will attack again,¡± I answer flatly, raising my head to look the Don in those cold tyrannical eyes, ¡°they sustained enormous casualties that are practically mountainous compared to ours. I learned through¡­,¡± I wince, raising a hand to rub my disfigured nose bridge ¡°interrogation at Valspon that the Federation fleet there was not acting per what their military wanted. ¡°If the Metropol fleet present here pulled no-stops on the strength it mobilized, then I reckon that their government is attempting to subdue any and all remaining pirate havens as a follow-up to their campaigns in earlier years. Considering the near-complete destruction of their allied formations, I imagine it will put a strain on the relationship between them and the colonist factions,¡± I clear my throat and heave a sigh, again stroking my scarred cheek, ¡°it¡¯s very unlikely of there being a Metropol-led venture into Toscana for a few years at least. ¡°I don¡¯t doubt that the Ruthenians will attempt to scrounge support for a new invasion someday. But considering the proximity of our regions, I doubt they will be willing to send any naval expeditions with anyone less than the Mericans. As for what the Franks will do¡­¡± I trail off. Given the dormant nature of the Franks, I do not consider them a threat at all. They are remarkably docile from the looks of things, but yet do not field any fleets whatsoever, despite largely constructing practically all of the Federation ships. ¡°You don¡¯t suppose the Federation will redouble their efforts through the Frankish hyper-lanes?¡± Zhui remarks glancing partially at me. With reluctance, I shake my head. ¡°Most of the Federation fleet at Valspon¡ªwhich is considerably smaller than the one here¡ªwas obliterated. They might have two possible routes into Toscana there, but the losses they sustained on both battlefields should be more than enough to deter them from squandering any more,¡± I conclude, trying to keep my doubts in check. If I have to be honest with myself: it¡¯s a rather flimsy reasoning. There is absolutely nothing stopping the Federation from renewing their efforts through the two Frankish hyper-lanes. And considering their relevance to each other, it would be easier for the Metropolitans to coordinate a timetable and, for lack of a better word, steamroll us more efficiently. There¡¯s no meteor shower occurring in the Frankish lanes, so I can¡¯t count on mercy rolls to save me again. Of course, I can¡¯t share that with the Don. But as I look around the room I would not be surprised if the others¡ªincluding the Don ¡ªhave arrived at the same foregone conclusion. When I told Brutus that this was a Pyrrhic victory I meant every last word of it. Even if the Federation didn¡¯t do a two-pronged advance into both hyper-lanes, even a single skirmish would be enough to finish us off for good. But that¡¯s all assuming the Federation fleet withdrawals here, and perhaps links up with their allies in the Frankish Domain. There are simply too many variables at play. On the other hand, nothing is stopping the Metropolitans from attacking through the Rouen corridor again. Resting a cold hand on my likewise icy facial scar, I wince, wondering if I am thinking too far ahead without taking into the accountability of what will happen right now¡ªif not for the next few weeks. ¡°I see, I see¡­¡± the Don murmurers before a choking air of silence follows suit. The Don clears his throat and picks up one of the lousily-rolled cigars and lights it. Dark, purplish fumes escape from his lips not long after. A few more intense puffs and more burning toxic fumes surround him. He does at least a few paces around the windows, puffing and exhaling more of the deadly toxin as he does so. He stops, briefly, and looks at the shattered remains of the clock. ¡°I see, I see,¡± the Don repeats, less convincingly this time. The shoddy cigar runs its course, and he flicks what remains of it onto the tray. With his back to us, he heaves a sigh and rests his hands behind his back. ¡°You were wrong about this once already, Li,¡± the Don declares somberly, unflinchingly. He casually glances at us, an unimpressed expression if there ever was one. ¡°Let us hope¡ªlet us pray ¡ªthat you are not committing another¡­ miscalculatingblunder,¡± Zhui pauses to glance back at me before shaking his head and resuming his smoke, ¡°there wouldn¡¯t be nothing left of the Mafia to even consider the odds for a third time,¡± the Don finishes. Zhui reaches over to the table for a second poorly-handmade cigar. The burly man twirls it in his fingers without another word, and without lighting it. Clenching the bandanna once more, I step forward and clear my throat. ¡°Even so, if I am once again gravely wrong about my predictions; I will do whatever in my power¡ª whatever it takes ¡ªto defend the Mafia,¡± I declare stiffening a trembling tone, ¡°if I have to throw away even my life to let the Mafia survive for another day, I will do it. Even if I am down to the last ship¡ªto the Castelforte ¡ªI will make the Metropolitans pay the price for every inch of space they own,¡± I slam my chest with a ferocious fist: grimacing at the abrupt but brief pain from giving the salute, ¡°I will give my everything to the Mafia¡­ to preserve our integrity, no matter what it takes!¡± I finish by slamming my fist once more unto my chest. The intensity of my balled fist gives off mild pain as my nails dig into skin. ¡°But even so,¡± I continue with a trembling voice, ¡°but even so¡­ that is only if the Federation redoubles its efforts. And so, even so, in the absence of more reckless violence¡­,¡± I glance back at Brutus, wondering if this is the right thing to do after all, ¡°even so¡­ while we can enjoy the spectacle of peace for even a little while longer¡­¡± with a shaking sigh, I take a few steps forward, slowly but surely, towards the Don. The man, although hearing my footsteps, does not move a muscle, nor look back out of curiosity. There are a few gasps¡ªmainly from Beatrice¡ªbut none dare move. ¡°But even so,¡± I state again, the trembling all the more clear ¡°once this is all over¡­ once it is apparent the Federation fleet has left the Merican region¡ªand has indeed left us alone¡­¡± I stop in front of the Don¡¯s long-since obliterated desk and look down on it. With a long strenuous sigh, I lower myself to kneel on both knees¡ªmy legs closely tucked in with each other. Shutting out the confused murmurs from behind, I shut my eyes and lower my head to the floor, pressing my forehead on the rather hardy flooring, mitigated slightly by the soft fluffiness of the wonderfully scented carpeting. I clasp a handful of both carpet and pieces of wood; sometimes tightening and lessening my grips on either for the impending judgment I may receive. ¡°There is but only one thing I ask for in return,¡± I state softly, trying my best to ignore the strands of carpeting slightly caressing my lips. I hear the Don shuffle around, likely turning to see my prostration. The overbearing man doesn¡¯t utter a word¡ªas does the others, there is only a chorus of silence¡ªone with a distinct lack of clock ticks. A wave of emotions wash over me, but I do what I can to suppress them. ¡°I wish to live a life in solitude¡­ free of obligations to posts I held before today, and live out what remains of my life in peace. I wish to watch over and raise those deprived of parents,¡± I state weakly, ¡°I feel that is the only way I may come to terms with the regrets born from this conflict, atone for the misfortunes I have brought about today. That is all I wish for,¡± I finish biting down on my lip, unsure of what I am to expect. If only Simon and Olga were here with me¡­ After my plea finishes, no-one utters a word. No one moves. Not one tick from the clock to make things unnerving. It¡¯s a second that lasts forever, but eventually, I realize from gasps behind me that the Don has taken a few steps toward me. The cracks and crunches from wood being stepped on causes the hair on my back to stand up. ¡°Don¡­!¡± Beatrice quietly sneers, seemingly taking a few steps. But she must¡¯ve stopped after I sense the Don stopping next to me. My heart beats faster, and I clench the piece of wood and carpet I hold in my hands tighter. Zhui¡¯s overbearing shadow eclipses me, but I dare not look up. ¡°Get up, Li,¡± the man grumbles, with not an ounce of hostility in his voice, ¡°you know it would break Simon¡¯s feeble heart if he saw you now, yeah?¡± Slowly, but surely, and with great reluctance I raise my head and upper body. The Don has knelt next to me, at least arms distance away. And yet, he doesn¡¯t make eye contact, and merely looks past me. The sorry excuse for a cigar is firmly held by his thumb and index finger, unlit still. ¡°After all the shit and rubbish we have gone through,¡± the Don begins, his eyes rather drowsy. He opens his mouth to continue, but closes it and rubs the monstrous side of his face. Zhui¡¯s gaze meets mine, and he slightly gives a nod. ¡°If that is what you wish, my dear, lovely Li¡­ then I feel it is what I owe you¡ª,¡± Zhui grimaces ¡°it¡¯s what you have¡­ earned.¡± And with that, he extends an open hand out and carefully strokes my head. His big, chubby hand slides down until it slides down my right non-marred cheek. The next second, Zhui heaves himself up with a grunt and traces his footsteps back to his seemingly favorite spot by the window. ¡°Right, right¡­¡± Zhui murmurs turning to face us, nodding slightly, ¡°I almost forgot¡ªhow could I forget?¡± With a raised hand, he childishly gestures for us to go ¡°I¡¯ll¡­strangle the rest of details from the bridge,¡± Zhui says sliding the cigar between his disgusting lips, his averted gaze to the ships passing by, ¡°you¡¯re more than free to return to your ships¡ªgo back to L¨¹beck for all I care. Just get out of my sight,¡± he says seemingly flicking the lighter cover on and off. Before I could even think about getting up, a strong before grabs me and lifts me before I even get the chance to react. It is, of course, none other than Brutus. He looks a little apologetic as if it wasn¡¯t something he wanted to do of his own accord. A glance at Beatrice is all I needed to surmise that he was goaded into it by her. ¡°Well, you heard the boss,¡± Beatrice remarks bitterly, gesturing at the door as one of Darcy¡¯s lackeys opens the door, ¡°let¡¯s¡­ hustle.¡± Without another word, the group leaves behind the brooding Mafia Don to his own devices.
It certainly is a breath of fresh air now that we¡¯re out of the suffocating toxic room. To be able to breathe again without feeling lightheaded by the choking fumes brought about by the cigar. Before I can confront her about her behavior, the woman excuses herself, citing that she needs to check up on her subordinates and that we¡¯ll likely converse later. Darcy, Richter, and her men head off in the opposite direction, presumably for their ships. ¡°Madame¡­¡± Brutus mumbles ¡°what was that all about?¡± He asks, crossing his arms. His timid eyes shifting from me to the abyssal windows. I merely shake my head. ¡°I believe when the time is right,¡± I start by stroking my disfigured cheek, a mild sigh ¡°I¡¯ll tell you everything, Brutus, but for now, let¡¯s just get back to our ship and check in on Olga¡­ hm?¡± As I gesture for us to follow Darcy¡¯s group, it doesn¡¯t take long for us to join up with them. It seems they must¡¯ve stumbled upon another group; and a state of confusion at that. As I approach the larger host, I am taken back when I recognize one of them¡ªa subordinate I haven¡¯t seen in years, not since the Wulf¡¯sdeparture to L¨¹beck. Although her hair is longer than I remember, and she looks rather pale, it is no doubt Jean Picot. Needless to say, she does look troubled¡ªas if deeply disturbed. After getting a closer look at the crowd, none of them are faces I recognize¡ªother than Jargon, who is seemingly trying to make his way through the crowd with a look of concern; biting on his lower lip. ¡°Is there something the matter?¡± I call out to the group and all attention shifts to me. Almost at once, Jean lightens up¡ªbut her expression immediately shifts to irritation. ¡°If you need to see the Don, he¡¯s still in the command room behind us. You can probably catch him before he¡­¡± ¡°The Madame¡­ Scarface¡ª ¡± Jean cuts me off, grimacing. She takes a few steps forward, her eyes on the floor, ¡°you are Li¡­ Chou, correct?¡± She inquires. Her breathing grows heavier, and she fondles something in her pocket. The other subordinates clear their throats and shift gazes around. ¡°Yes, that is correct,¡± I respond warmly ¡°it certainly has been a while, Jean Picot¡­¡± I trail off. For some odd reason, I get the unshakable feeling that something is wrong, but I brush the idea off. ¡°You and the Wulfhere have my utmost gratitude for the accomplishments pulled off here,¡± I say heartily ¡°without your perseverance, there would¡¯ve been no chance in, er¡­ hell that I could¡¯ve secured a victory here. But with that said¡­¡± I squint through the faces in Jean¡¯s group, ¡°Jung Lee¡­ where is the man? I wish to congratulate him first-hand,¡± I wince a grin ¡°perhaps I may see him off properly and see his child someday?¡± In that instant, something flips in Jean. She raises her head, a pained expression across her face: anger, utmost anger. She rips the hand from her pocket, and in an abrupt flurry of events, she lurches toward me with a metallic, sharp object. Chapter 74: Toscana Requiem | A Legend Fades in Vain It all happens in the blink of an eye. And yet, it seems like an eternity. Jean lurches forward, practically unopposed. Both hands on the knife, her arms at full extent. Nobody¡ªand perhaps even me¡ªeven realizes what is happening. The memory from then resurfaces¡ªa child coerced into killing a man begging for his life. It¡¯s those eyes of hers¡ªeyes that show contempt. A sharp, desperate gaze that desires nothing less than killing. In the whites of her eyes, I do not see a pale, scar-faced Madame. Nor a Li Chou at wit¡¯s end. In the ever-inching pupils of Jean, I see a man¡ªKarwoski, showing distraught. Hoping that this is not how he meets his end. I would not have enough time to react. Nobody would have enough time to react. In what feels like lasts for hours, I watch helplessly as Jean races past even Brutus. The large oaf finally processes what is happening but only manages to crane his neck in time to see the after-image of Jean charge past him. And yet, he does nothing: there is nothing he can do. There is nothing no one can do. Closer, and closer still. The expression on Jean¡¯s face only becomes more frenzied. Tears form in her eyes, and she grits her teeth with intensity. With full-force, she thrusts the knife forward with all their strength. At this speed and with such thrusting, all it would take is hitting any particular organ and killing me. That¡¯s all it takes. That¡¯s all you need to take another life. Perhaps I deserve this. Who am I to resist after all the bloodshed that has been spilled in my name? Who am I to wonder if I deserve a happy and fulfilling life? What have I truly done for the Mafia, other than by extension sending thousands of young lives to their doom, never to return and see their loved ones? All I am capable of is creating miracles engineered by grief and sorrow. It was a foolish thing to believe I could achieve anything meaningful. Just as I close my eyes and hope I can be reborn as a better person, I realize at a crucial moment that Jean falters. Her momentum slows down, if only marginally. There¡¯s a wince in her eyes. Her bottom lip trembles. She roars with anger¡ªbut there¡¯s reluctance in her scream. Her thrust becomes lackluster. Tears form in her eyes as she shuts her eyes and tries to look away. But despite this seemingly lost steam, the knife sways partially just as Jean slams into me, knocking both of us down with heavy thuds. The unforgiving crash robs me of my senses¡ªI can only barely make out Jean slumped over me. Her heavy but coarse panting brushing against my agitated cheeks. And it is because of this unforgivable aching pain that I remain conscious. But I lack the energy still to disarm Jean¡ªor perhaps it¡¯s a subconscious desire to let her deliver the killing blow. Slowly, but surely, I do regain my senses. I expect excruciating pain from a stab wound, but my expectations are subverted. The knife lays just out of my reach next to Jean¡ªits blade still gleaming with silver. No blotches of crimson fluids circulating us. From behind, the shock spell cast upon the others break, and they only realize that Jean has attempted to attack me. She must¡¯ve realized this also, as she reanimates faster than I do and scrambles to pick up the knife. She pushes my feeble hand away and raises the blade above her head. ¡°It¡¯s because of you¡­¡± she screams tersely ¡°it¡¯s because of you¡­!¡± With a ringing cry, she thrusts the knife down¡ªbut miraculously I summon enough energy to cusp my hands around hers¡ªjust as the tip of the blade reaches my chest. The blade sways up and down, as the two of us struggle to control the knife. ¡°It¡¯s because of you¡­ why?¡± Jean asks, almost breaking into a sob ¡°why? Why?Why?¡± I jerk my head in time as Jean slices through my bangs. Control over the knife continues to see-saw, as the sharpness of the knife brushes my neck. ¡°W-what¡¯s gotten into you, Jean?!¡± I stammer after enough strength. The answer goes unheeded. Droplets of tears splash on my face, briefly causing a sting from my facial scar. ¡°What has¡­ brought this about?!¡± Sensing a reinvigoration from Jean, she yanks the knife upward¡ªout of my grasps¡ªand with another roaring cry slams it down. Without a second to think, I again clasp my hands over Jean¡¯s¡ªthis time twisting her hand so that it is the flat hilt that slams onto my chest, forcing me to cough hoarsely. Jean herself lets out a pained cry and attempts to regain control of the knife. Before I can even think about using what second-wind I may have to shove the weapon away, Jean relinquishes control of the knife momentarily. Caught off-guard and dazed, I also lessen control of the knife¡ªbut fail to react in time as Jean throws it to the side and rapidly her hands around my neck¡ªsqueezing tightly. My legs and arms thrash about, desperate for recovery. ¡°Jung¡­¡± Jean utters through uncontrollable tears, ¡°why¡­ why did you let Jung die?! Answer me, Li!¡± She screams, her unforgivable grip making my vision phase in and out. Numbness sets in¡ªmy thrashing legs become mild. This is how I die. This is how it should be. Even dying a hundred times over would not be enough to redeem the sins spilled in my name. Just as my body fails to function, the last gasp of air still in me escapes my lips, and my vision becomes clouded with darkness. There is a sudden lift of the heaviness previously weighing over me. Is this what it means to die? Have I found peace at last? Have I finally¡ªat long last¡ªbroken free of this reckless, impossible dice game with fate? There is no happy ending for pirates like us. These fading words of the legendary Wulf rings through my ears. In this mystic dimly-lit labyrinth, I reach out to grasp nothingness. Is this the fruition of my so-called happy ending? What was it that Jean said, shortly before I entered this dream-state? Jung Lee has died? No, that¡¯s impossible. Incomprehensible, even. He made a lousy promise to return alive¡ªhe has so much to live for. Jung has a genuine reason to fight¡ªa genuine desire to return to his status quo. The old Wulf defied fate itself and achieved his happy ending. And yet¡­ and yet I am led to believe he has simply died? Has yet another promise been broken? There is a strange force jerking me. And sure enough, I can hear strange vibrations around me. But making out any of it is impossible. All this random incoherence ringing in my ears all the same but so very distinct. It would be impossible to distinguish one from the other¡ªwhatever it is I am supposed to distinguish in the first place. A small, circular force weighs on my chest¡ªfollowed by intense pressing before. Then more pressing down¡ªand then release. In between these pumps of rhythms, something soft¡ªwet brushes against my lips. And then suddenly, through this mystic curtain of nothingness, a figure leaps forward¡ªa haunting figure all too familiar to a child-like Chou. That despicable expression of hatred burned into memory. Over its head, a hateful weapon of destruction is swung over¡ª I spring up straight, gasping rapidly at the sudden influx of air entering my body. Still lightheaded, I scramble backward, opening my eyes to blinding lights. Expecting a long, narrow, and dimly lit corridor, I sigh with heavy relief when it is still the same plain, ashen hallway of the Montepuez. The same subordinates, and the same distraught Jean, now dragged off and forced down by two of Darcy¡¯s men. One of them must¡¯ve picked up the knife since he holds it over Jean ready to strike. But all of them must¡¯ve been caught off by my revival, and are thus struck by a spell. All alarmed eyes turn to me, but Jean keeps her head low, despite the one holding the knife grabbing her by the hair from behind. Was it a mere hallucination? A near-death experience? A mild scoff. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. I was on a thread of death, and even so, despite the tragic deaths of so many captains, Fate is willing to go as far as to deny me death itself? I seem to also have a bad streak with death, don¡¯t I, Olga? ¡°Li?!¡± Brutus is the first to react, nearly shouting in surprise. He and two others have knelt next to me, Brutus being the closet over me. It would be an understatement to say he looks incredibly concerned. But the need to shout only causes me irritation and continuous aching from my scar. With a groan, I latch onto him with one hand and heave myself up, declining one of the lackeys from assisting me. ¡°Li¡­ are you¡­ are you really¡­¡± Brutus stammers, ¡°Li, I think¡­ you should rest,¡± Brutus protests. But I ignore him, instead gently gesturing for him to give me space. The oaf obediently complies, and back-steps to join the others, as does Darcy¡¯s lackeys. I take several strenuous exhales and inhales, eying the stiffened group in front of me, namely Jean. She remains limp in the clutches of the two holding her. The knife-holding lackey clears his throat, his eyes shifting around averting my piercing gaze. With one last extensive exhale, I run a hand through my snaking scar and then my bangs. Then take a few wobbly steps forward. The three men restraining Jean flinch, and the men on the sides stumble back, leaving only the knife-wielding lackey left to hold Jean down. Small, quiet footsteps. The closer I get, the more I can hear the bated breaths of Jean, regardless of the rather heavy-breathing of the knife wielder. ¡°M-Madame!¡± He hesitantly speaks up ¡°if you wish to kill the traitor¡­ yourself¡­¡± ¡°Traitor?¡± I quietly muse ¡°I have led so many of our comrades to astray into the vacuum of death. And you call her a traitor?¡± I take a few steps forward. Jean remains quiet and doesn¡¯t budge a muscle. The knife lackey tries to pull her hair back, but I brush my hand against his before he can, and after a few moments of caressing his hand the lackey submits, slipping the knife into my palm and releasing his grip on Jean. ¡°I have nearly driven the Mafia into the jaws of defeat, and yet you all have the gall to treat her so coldly?¡± I whisper heartily, stroking Jean¡¯s hair. No response from the distraught woman. ¡°If any of you knew what I attempted after departing Velksland, you would let her do as she pleased,¡± I twirl the hilt around so that the blade faces Jean. Without another word, I raise the bladed weapon above my head. With bated breaths, the crowd waits for me to deliver the killing blow. But in defiance of their expectations, I lower it slowly to Jean, turning the knife so the hilt is offered to her. I then take one of Jean¡¯s hands and gently place it in her hands. I further caress her fingers until she slowly, stubbornly, wraps her fingers around the smooth dark handle. I press harder on her grip before letting go. ¡°Jung¡­¡± I whisper ¡°you mentioned that the man has died, correct?¡± I heartily ask Jean. The woman takes several deep breaths and doesn¡¯t respond at first. She does, however, give a nod. After this confirmation, Jean lifts her other arm and plants a hand on my stomach. ¡°Then do what you must, Jean,¡± I softly state, ¡°if it brings closure to this vengeance, then so be it.¡± With a raise of the knife, she extends her arm backward in preparation for a thrust, much to the uneasy murmurs of the crowd before us. Brutus and Beatrice in particular step forward, but one sharp glance from me is enough to make them freeze and rescind. Slowly, agonizingly, Jean extends her knife towards me¡ªbut partway, the knife slips through her grip and clatters loudly on the floor. Finally, Jean looks up at me with grim sadness in her eyes, her bottom lip quivers. She mutters under her breath before her gaze falls back to the floor. In the end, Jean can¡¯t bring herself to do it. I take a step back and face the other way. Jean softly sobs again amid the murmurs of the others. Jean has suffered for so long. And yet, when presented the chance¡ªwhen allowed to deliver what she felt is right. She has faltered. Perhaps she realized that revenge killing wouldn¡¯t accomplish a thing. She has nothing less to lose¡ªshe has lost her will to live given her dependence on Jung. I killed Jung Lee. I killed the only thing that potentially mattered in her life. The only cosmic star that shone brightly in this sea of darkness. Because of my sheer incompetence at L¨¹beck and Valspon¡ªhundreds, like Jung and Jean, have suffered for my irrational decision-making. Many ifs and buts could be had, but now none of it matters. It¡¯s despicable. We¡¯re both despicable women. If it was Simon that died, would I have acted the same way? Olga¡­ If Olga were to die¡­ whom would I blame? Whom would I lash out at? Unable to bottle my emotions anymore, I reel around to an unsuspecting crew and take a step forward¡ªright arm fully extended¡ªand with all my force deliver a profound smack across Jean¡¯s face. The woman collapses amid surprised gasps. With a deep and intensive exhale, I turn my attention to the crowd. Jargon, in particular, attempts to rush to Jean¡¯s side but the others stop him. ¡°Jung Lee has died!¡± I retort loudly, extending both of my arms out. ¡°The legendary Wulf der Ruthenia has met his end! And even so!¡± I clear my throat before continuing, ¡°and even so¡ªthis is how we honor his memory? His sacrifice?! He has perished so that the rest may live. ¡°And the survivors, unable to take his death for granted, turn on each other like wild, bashful animals?!¡± I grit my teeth, eyeing each and every member present before me ¡°ask yourselves this: is this what Jung would have wanted?! To have us murder each other in the hopes that he will rise from the dead?!¡± With my energy, I kick the knife away as it smashes against the corridor wall ¡°if Jung¡­ If Jung Lee could see us now¡ªwould he merely weep, believing his sacrifice would be vain?! Weep that even though our fight ends¡ªwe continue a cycle of nonsense vengeful fighting?!¡± I shout despite the straining of my throat. A single, hot tear spills down my disfigured cheek. ¡°Is this what any of our loved ones would want?¡± I choke, trying to stiffen my lip ¡°would they want us to evoke even more pain and suffering than what we have already endured?!¡± The crowd remains quiet: all pained eyes averted. Jargon, in particular, rushes over to cradle Jean in his arms. She recuperates and embraces him while sobbing uncontrollably. Next to us¡ªa gust of abrupt air as the door to the command center opens. The overbearing physique of Zhui stands in the door: the lit cigar droops between his lips. Zhui must¡¯ve been listening in¡ªor at least happened to overhear the commotion going on outside. I¡ªas well as Jean and Jargon, remain frozen in place as the man strolls past us to the windows. A loud puff of the fumes brings about slight agitation from my defacement. After some time, Zhui breaks the spell brought about by his imposing presence. ¡°The Wulf¡­¡±Zhui utters somberly, ¡°Lee is dead¡­ huh?¡± He loudly clears his throat¡ªonce, twice, and then thrice, ¡°how¡­ unfortunate¡­¡± Zhui expresses rather genuinely, ¡°how¡­ truly,remarkably, unfortunate,¡± Zhui takes an extensive puff from the cigar before strongly exhaling, ¡°perhaps¡­ I went too far,¡± the Don states apologetically, ¡°Perhaps, just perhaps¡­¡± he trails off after clearing his throat. Zhui says no further, and from the sounds of things leaves the corridor through the other way. I sigh exhaustively after it¡¯s evident Zhui has left. Then walk past the two still on the floor and past the crowd, who are quick to snap out of their daze and cut a line for me to pass through. I stop in front of Beatrice, who shoots me a glare but says nothing. ¡°Make sure nobody lays a finger on Jean or Jargon,¡± I sternly order the unkempt beauty. Beatrice acknowledges with a slight nod before averting her gaze. With nothing more to say, and without looking back I make my leave. Brutus proceeds in accompanying me, having no issue in keeping pace. ¡°Madame¡­ where are you going?¡± He inquires ¡°you should rest. It¡¯s not right for you to¡­¡± I cut him off with the cast of a scoff, never once glancing over at him. ¡°Olga¡­¡± I mutter sadly ¡°I will not rest this fragile body until I am certain of Olga¡¯s fate¡ªuntil I see with my own two eyes that she is fine and well!¡± Omake Somewhere far away, in a vast, sprawling meadow, reminiscent of a certain operating system¡¯s wallpaper from yesterdecade, two classy men sit at an antique table with two equally-made artisan chairs. In front of either is a CRT screen on top of a tray trolley, seemingly unplugged. The one on the right, known by his mortal namesake Kenneth Buttermilch, holds a glass of lime-colored wine. Across from him is Jung Lee who is preoccupied with cutting up a leisurely medium-rare steak. Buttermilch sips quietly on his glass as he watches the program on television. ¡°Say,¡± the former Metropolitan Commander utters after an intermission plays on the television. ¡°I¡¯ve been wondering for a while,¡± Buttermilch turns to address his acquaintance, expecting him to respond. Jung remains quiet, still intent on cutting the medium-rare steak with a plastic knife and fork. ¡°Mr. Lee?¡± Kenneth repeats, huffing through his nostrils. Jung pauses, stabbing one helpless slab of steak and graciously dousing it in a crimson-dark sauce. He smacks his lips, before promptly chewing on it. ¡°Hm? Oh, yes. Sorry, Kenneth, was it?¡± Jung replies after swallowing the piecemeal meat, ¡°I was deep in thought. Sorry, what was on your mind?¡± With a scoff, Kenneth leans back in his chair. Clearly, the man is tired of having to endure what feels like years of babbling into each other¡¯s ears about absolute mundane topics. But it has been, at most, only a few days since either of them have died. The concept of time in this realm of nothingness is, well, nothing for either of them. It¡¯s basically Hell, torment, but it¡¯s not so bad according to the fabrication by mere mortals drunk on fiction throughout the last two millennia regarding the phenomenon of life after death: that is, Heaven and Hell. Compared to having to hear never-ending tangents by Jung, Hell sounds more comfortable than this disturbingly peaceful paradise. ¡°Don¡¯t you think this is all rather unfair?¡± Kenneth asks, reaching for the wine bottle and pouring more than a gracious amount of wine. On the other hand, the former Commander doesn¡¯t have to worry about poisoning his liver anymore. Also, he never has to worry about running out of alcohol¡ªor anything for that matter. ¡°Tragic, even,¡± Jung only replies with a grunt and continues to slice away at the steak. With a deep sigh, Kenneth continues. ¡°The first time either of us died in the original draft, it was lousy. It lacked meaning. But come around the second draft I can¡¯t help but feel some jealousy that your buildup still overshadowed mine,¡± the hungry Wulf across the table lets out an unsolicited snort, and he pauses his act of cutting the medium steak bleeding red liquid. ¡°Jealousy? Hah, color me surprised,¡± Jung answers, forking another piece of steak, ¡°you at least had some characterization and you had a name,¡± Jung points with the fork at the messy stack of papers piled around Buttermilch¡¯s side of the table ¡°I didn¡¯t even have a name!¡± Jung snorts, ¡°I had at least a paragraph and a half dedicated to me¡ªand then I¡¯m quickly glossed over to give leeway to the little one.¡± ¡°The little one¡­¡± Kenneth muses, ¡°you mean that Madame Scarface? Er¡­¡± the Commander clicks his tongue and frowns with a heavy brow ¡°¡ªLi, Chou, was it?¡± Jung nods with a sigh. ¡°So? Do you feel your death was still meaningless?¡± Jung asks twirling the fork in his grasp, ¡°is that it? Worry that you weren¡¯t used much and tossed away to give some character development to your little one?¡± Buttermilch contemplates the question but shakes his head. ¡°Well, in a way, yes, but no. I¡¯m rather amused that you were given such a lengthy¡­¡± Kenneth pauses and taps his chin. He peers into his glass and shakes it gently; the liquids splash like calm waves against the transparent walls of its dwelling. ¡°How should I put it? You had such a lengthy buildup to your character arc. Do you think it was to make up for your lack of presence¡ªer, for lack of better phrasing¡ªin the original draft?¡± As Kenneth finishes, the tired Wulf takes a few more bites of piecemeal steak. ¡°Even if it meant that my own gets shafted as a result?¡± ¡°That sounds like a loaded question to me,¡± Jung remarks wryly, taking his time to swallow the meat in between, ¡°maybe it¡¯s¡­ hm,¡± after finishing most of the bites, Jung sets the fork down and frowns, ¡°it would¡¯ve probably slowed the plot down to a crawl if you had such a lengthy buildup like I did. But even so,¡± Jung leans forward, fork in hand to point the plastic-gray fork at the curious Buttermilch, ¡°your death was a lot more direct than mine, don¡¯t you think? Bound to have a long-lasting impact than mine¡ªfor your little one, I mean. I imagine after the focus shifted away from her, she¡¯s probably pretty traumatized after the whole thing is said and done,¡± Jung finishes with a snort. ¡°I imagine Li might brood on my passing for a while¡­ but it was bound to happen sooner or later. Space radiation cancer is still very much a real concern these days, you know?¡± Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. Buttermilch scoffs at the comment and turns his attention back to the television as Jung continues. ¡°It¡¯s better you than your little one. The story would be all over the place if Victoria didn¡¯t survive the very beginning of the story,¡± Jung likewise glimpses at the stack of papers and then the television, ¡°even if your part of the play wasn¡¯t all that much important in the beginning, it¡¯s still bound to have a snowball effect later on in Victoria¡¯s life,¡± Jung says somberly ¡°and as for me¡­¡± Jung must not be paying much attention to the actual art of cutting the steak, since his knife frequently scrapes the plate. Buttermilch leans forward in his seat, clasping his hands forward. ¡°Even with all said and done, our part was rather tragic, weren¡¯t they?¡± Buttermilch says quietly ¡°we chased after ideals that seemed so far out of our grasps¡ªall we can hope for is the younger ones to carry on our legacy,¡± Buttermilch raises his head ¡°I suppose?¡± With a part sigh, part scoff, the former Commander turns his attention back to Jung. ¡°Mr. Lee, do you consider your death¡­ your sacrifice, rather, in vain?¡± Buttermilch inquires ¡°you seemed rather disinterested watching events unfold with Li and Jean,¡± Buttermilch flinches the next moment when Jung scrapes the plate rather harshly. Jung remains quiet, but after a few moments of silence, the rather perturbed Wulf lets out his typical snort and sets the knife down. Jung opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out of it. ¡°Sorry,¡± Kenneth quickly rectifies, ¡°that must¡¯ve been hard on you to watch.¡± Jung blows heavily through his nose and gives a shake of his head. ¡°It is what it is,¡± Jung remarks with bitterness, ¡°but even so,¡± Jung raises his head and looks his counterpart in the eyes ¡°it¡¯s out of her system now¡­ I have a firm belief that they will bear no grudges against one another. As Li put it¡­¡± Jung trails off and scratches his beard, ¡°well. She put it nicely, I¡¯ll say that much.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t sound so convinced,¡± Kenneth retorts, and the old battered Wulf in his classy suit scoffs. ¡°Even after all this time, you don¡¯t hold Li in contempt?¡± Jung lingers on the question and merely shakes his head. ¡°She did what she could,¡± Jung states, perhaps in an attempt to reassure himself ¡°I do not blame her for my death¡ªand I do not believe anyone should either. In the end, nobody could beat this old Wulf but himself,¡± a slight snort and grin. Jung¡¯s grin, however, disappears when his gaze shifts into the distance, his eyes narrow. Curious as to what he¡¯s looking at, Kenneth follows his gaze: two blips on the distant green horizon. ¡°Visitors?¡± Kenneth muses. Just as the former Commander turns his attention to the Wulf, he jumps in his seat when Jung¡¯s chair clatters to the floor¡ªthe delicacy of the artisan chair now broken. Jung strides towards their visitors, which Kenneth now recognizes as Jung¡¯s mistress; Fa Yuriy. But as for the other person, Kenneth feels as though she looks familiar, but it¡¯s rather difficult to tell since she is partially mummified. From a distance, Kenneth watches as Jung nearly breaks into a run to close the gap between him and the visitors. As he approaches the duo the Wulf slows down to a walk. And after exchanging a few words with Fa, he apprehends the lanky mummy accompanying her. After what seems like little to no resistance from the mummy, the Wulf reels her around and accompanies her back from which they came. Fa sees them off before returning alone to Kenneth. ¡°What was that about?¡± Kenneth asks as the cool Fa approaches him, ¡°oh, that bloody hound broke the other chair¡ªyou can have my seat,¡± Kenneth quickly adds, offering his seat to the woman, which she accepts. A cup of tea materializes for her, and she quietly drinks from it while the former Federation Commander awaits the details. ¡°A wandering soul came to a place it has no right to be just yet,¡± Fa states, her eyes trained on the cup, ¡°Jung took matters into his own hands and shepherded her to where she belongs¡ªto accompany another that needs her the most,¡± Fa continues before finishing the rest of her hot drink. She looks up at Kenneth with an innocent smile. ¡°Is it unreasonable for him to mitigate the pain and sorrow after such a tragedy has unfolded?¡± After more or less forfeiting his life for the Ensign, the former Commander responds with a nod. It¡¯s the least they can do as parting gifts for those they left behind. Chapter 75: Toscana Requiem | The Bandanna As Brutus and I approach the shuttle, we find its pilot discussing with several engineers near the engines. When she notices us, she dismisses them, and the motley crew proceeds with moving their equipment away. With a surprised look, the shuttle pilot gives the customary Mafia salute. ¡°Back so soon?!¡± She asks in a pleasantly surprised tone, her eyes shifting between the two of us ¡°I was giving input to the Montepuez¡¯s crew on what needed some maintenance¡ªbut if you need to depart now¡­¡± ¡°Sorry to interrupt you like this, Carla,¡± Brutus remarks, ¡°yes, our meeting with the Don ended sooner than expected, and good grief,¡± Brutus sighs with a shrug of his shoulders, ¡°if I had to be in the same room as that bastard I¡¯m not sure how much more I could handle!¡± Brutus quips. Carla nods before she fixates her gaze on me. ¡°Is the Madame alright? Er¡­ not that it¡¯s any of my business,¡± she says scratching her head ¡°I overheard there was some commotion earlier. When she and her entourage debarked from their shuttle and headed into the Montepuez, they had a menacing aura around them,¡± Carla frowns ¡°what was that about? I mean¡­ if it¡¯s alright to share with me. Brutus heaves a deep breath. He glances over at me as if waiting for permission to answer. After a few seconds, Brutus expresses to Carla that I am fine if a little shaken after a slight scuffle with the woman in question. Brutus then asks for her to start up the shuttle for we are to depart as soon as possible. ¡°Right away, sir,¡± Carla presses a button on a console on the rear side of the shuttle and waits for the ramp to descend, ¡°this probably doesn¡¯t need to be asked¡­ but I assume the two of you wish to head back to the Castelforte?¡± Brutus opens his mouth to speak, but I cut him off. ¡°Actually, the Scarface has something else in mind¡ª¡° ¡°The Taiga,¡± I mellow remark to Brutus¡¯s surprise, ¡°I wish to locate and head for the Taiga¡ªat your earliest convenience, ¡± I look up to a confused Carla with a grimacing grin, ¡°and with the utmost haste if you find it possible, miss Carla.¡± ¡°The Taiga¡­ huh?¡± Carla muses crossing arms under her breasts, ¡°I see¡­ I think that belongs to that lanky woman? Er¡­¡± she recants after getting a glare from Brutus ¡°sorry, er¡­ miss Kaiser? I think her name was¡­¡± Carla takes a few steps back to use the console and activate the shuttle¡¯s doors, ¡°very well! You can go ahead and wait inside¡ªit¡¯s far too chilly in here but at least it¡¯s well-ventilated inside,¡± Carla remarks as she heads inside the shuttle first. Brutus follows suit but stops when he realizes I do not join him. ¡°Madame?¡± Brutus asks curiously, following my gaze to the hallway we departed, ¡°you¡¯re worried about the Jean thing still, aren¡¯t you?¡± I decidedly don¡¯t respond. This prompts Brutus to return and caress my shoulders, ¡°languishing over it won¡¯t do, Madame¡­¡± unexpectedly, Brutus quickly recoils his hand into a clenched fist. When I look up at him out of curiosity, he frowns while biting on his lower lip. ¡°Sorry,¡± he murmurs, rubbing his hand, ¡°it¡¯s easy to forget that you don¡¯t like being touched¡­ especially after what¡ª¡° his train of thought is interrupted when I reach over and stroke his enormous hands with my comparably small hands. ¡°Is that what you were worried about?¡± I ask warmly, wincing a smile ¡°concerned that I will lash out at you of all people, Brutus?¡± I ask in a more somber tone. Brutus doesn¡¯t say anything, but it¡¯s clear to me from his expression that he is pained as I am from the incident from earlier. ¡°Don¡¯t be so hard on yourself, Brutus,¡± I say squeezing his hand before releasing it, ¡°please.¡± The giant oaf doesn''t say another word, his eyes averted. Brutus takes a few steps back and excuses himself to head first into the shuttle passenger area. I suspect Brutus is still hung over the rejection I gave him when we were still in the Castelforte. Coupled with my near-death experience, he must be holding himself responsible for failing to act sooner on Jean¡¯s sudden attack. If I had died there and then, it would drive Brutus into the depths of despair and thus, I liken it wounds him greatly to see me like this. Perhaps the man is frustrated with himself for not being supportive enough., and being constrained by what he constitutes as going too far and not enough. Likewise, it hurts me to see him behave like this too. Without another word, I enter the shuttle long after Brutus. I sit across from the brooding man and proceed with strapping myself in. Neither of us says a word as the shuttle finishes preparations. Carla peeks in and lets us know the shuttle will proceed with takeoff. Followed sometime later with a subtle jerk of motion as the shuttle disembarks from the Montepuez into space. As my father¡¯s ship slips further into the distance, I close the adjacent window shutter and lean against the seat: head propped up to the wall. Jean¡­ I can only hope Beatrice keeps her word and doesn¡¯t punish Jean enough. The poor woman has endured so much already. She doesn¡¯t need any more suffering after losing a loved one she held so dear. I take out the blemished bandanna and stroke its fine, soft texture. Jung¡­ if I had arrived just minutes earlier, would you have survived? Would our chances of fruitless sacrifices be cut in half if he survived? The lackluster effectiveness of the survivors in the asteroid battlefield was all too apparent¡ªwhy, oh why, did I not realize it sooner? Why was his death not reported? But on that thought, I suppose it does make sense. If the truth was broadcasted to the rest of the fleet¡ªand possibly by a Metropolitan interception¡ªit would have spelled disaster. Jean and that Wulfhere roughneck were likely aware of this dilemma and must¡¯ve kept silent¡­ even if it meant that the battle would have been lost anyway. It¡¯s a miracle that I managed to arrive as the Wulf perished. I tug at my chest. And even so, the death of Jung is merely another corpse for the mountain of souls I¡¯ve let down. I discarded so many to achieve a resolution that is flimsy at best¡ªand for who knows how long will last. The fact that I was nearly killed by someone who has nothing left to lose shows just how most view me as. And even then, I didn''t decide to assess the damage myself, nor did I ignore the Don¡¯s order to come to the Montepuez. I seemingly showed no regard for the well-being of all my subordinates. I had no concern for those that lived and those that died. Thinking back on what Brutus said, it¡¯s hard to believe that many would look up to me as an elder sister¡ªlet alone a mother figure. I¡¯m nothing less than a monster: no better than that dreadful man I call an adoptive father. I lean forward, covering my face with the bandanna and caressing both the bandanna and my deforming facial scar with heavy sighs. I¡¯m a full-fledged murderer, aren¡¯t I, Olga? My entire life has been nothing but commanding others to kill and be killed on my behalf. Do I deserve to be loved? To be loved by others as a sister or a motherly figure? Was I merely lying to myself when I told Richter that I truly care for the wellbeing of my subordinates? Was Richter right on his assumptions, after all? Olga¡­ Emmanuel¡­ Jung. I¡¯m sorry. I let you all down, didn¡¯t I? I don¡¯t deserve the right to a big sister or motherly figure to anyone. And how could I? A clear of the throat from across the compartment. Lifting my face from the slightly wet bandanna and through blurry vision it is the pilot that catches my attention. She looks over with concern at Brutus before shifting her gaze back at me. ¡°If it¡¯s a bad time to report now¡­¡± she starts before I cut her off. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°No, do not mind me,¡± I reply, surprised at my fragile tone, ¡°did you encounter any problems with locating the Taiga?¡± I continue while carelessly wrapping the bandanna over in my hands. When I look up at Carla again, my heart sinks a little when she bites down on her tongue, frowning. ¡°Well¡­¡± she starts, grimacing more ¡°the Taiga¡­ ¡°The Taiga seemed to be scuttled, ¡± Carla says grimly. My head spins at the revelation. Ever-increasing dizziness. Brutus, who had unbuckled sometime after take-off. Jumps to his feet and slams Carla against the wall. ¡°What the hell do you mean?!¡± Brutus demands. It¡¯s hard to tell, but it does seem like the oaf has lifted her off the ground by the collar. Carla lets out a few surprised cries. ¡°Are you trying to cause more stress to the Madame than what she already has?!¡± The Taiga? Scuttled? I can barely fathom it. I don¡¯t want to believe it. If it was scuttled, then does that mean¡­? ¡°Let her go, Brutus,¡± I say softly, but the man doesn¡¯t relent. He only slams her against the wall again, which releases another cry from the poor pilot. I shout his name this time, straining my throat in the process. A slight migraine. This time, Brutus does obey, letting her collapse to the floor. He turns his back to her, disgruntled, and makes his way back to his seat and crashes down on it. His stern eyes averting mine. I get up from my seat this time, giving Brutus a brief glare before kneeling next to her and helping her stabilize. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for his actions,¡± I say softly, caressing Carla¡¯s neck and shoulder ¡°it¡¯s unlike him to behave in such a way¡­ so irrational,¡± she averts her strained eyes briefly before locking eyes with me. ¡°If you want someone to hate, then pin it on me for it is my subordinate¡¯s actions are my responsibility¡± ¡°Such nonsense to say,¡± Carla mutters, her eyes shifts to Brutus for a second ¡°it¡¯s my fault for not getting the chance to specify more¡ª¡± ¡°Never mind that, the Taiga¡¯s crew¡­¡± I say quickly, biting down on my lower lip ¡°¡ªwere they evacuated?¡± I ask while helping Carla up. ¡°From communicating with other pilots, I learned that most of its crew were ferried to the Mathilda,¡± her eyes lower to the floor, ¡°but as for who and how many were sent before it was scuttled, I have not the slightest inkling,¡± Carla clears her throat, ¡°but I do know for certain it is the Mathilda.¡± ¡°Do you know¡­¡± I pause, wondering if Carla is familiar with Sergi at all, but it is worth a shot to ask, ¡°¡ªdo you know if an officer named Sergi went there as well?¡± Carla ponders the question before giving a nod. ¡°The recent flightpath records I went through did show that, among them, I did make out the name Sergi. And I didn''t notice it left the Mathilda yet.¡± A token of relief, but I still do not know Olga¡¯s fate. ¡°Thank you, miss Carla¡ªthank you from the bottom of my heart,¡± I say warmly, bearing intense pain for a smile, ¡°if you can, please transport us to the Mathilda and await further instructions.¡± With that, I see Carla off into the cockpit. Then, I take my seat opposite Brutus again. After what seems like forever, Brutus breaks the silence with an apologetic look. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Madame,¡± he utters, his eyes still averting mine ¡°I don¡¯t know what got a hold of me¡­¡± ¡°Well, you are Brutus, a giant brute,¡± I remark warmly as I stroke Julius¡¯s bandanna. Flustered, Brutus only offers a heavy exhale and sags to the left. But once Brutus eyes the bandanna, he straightens up with a puzzled look. ¡°That cloth¡­¡± he mutters, ¡°now that I think about it¡­ may I see it?¡± His gaze shifts to me, ¡°if you¡¯re alright with that, I mean. It would be an understatement to say that it looks precious to you. If you don¡¯t want to let me see it for a second¡­¡± with great reluctance, I stroke the bandanna a few times while pondering the question. I cut loose a sigh, and hesitantly hand it over to Brutus. He takes it with both hands and examines it closely. Time passes, and Brutus lowers it to his lap. He gently wraps the bandanna up, sighing all the while. ¡°This bandanna,¡± he starts handing it over to me ¡°¡­it belongs to that rascal¡ªJulius, right?¡± I quietly take the bandanna from him and unroll it in my lap. Just the utterance of the name gives me heartache. I stare at the crimson handkerchief for a little longer, before looking up at Brutus and giving a nod. ¡°I take it¡­¡± Brutus stops before clearing his throat, ¡°I take it the man died?¡± Another heavy-hitting question that makes my heart sink. My gaze drops to Brutus¡¯s boots, and I stroke my chin scar. Without another word, I give a slight nod. Brutus leans forward in his seat and clasps his hands together. He breathes in deeply, and exhales just as much. Then a scoff follows. ¡°That man¡­ Julius,¡± Brutus begins ¡°he was like a brother to me. He was always a prankster ¡ªa jokester at heart,¡± Brutus cracks a sad grin, nodding all the while ¡°back before this all started¡ªwe used to hang out in bars across Brunsb ¨¹ttel. We shared a lot of fond memories¡­¡± Brutus shuts his eyes briefly, greatly pained by those words, ¡°he once confided in me that he loved you, Madame.¡± Huh?! I stopped caressing the bandanna, my cheeks flush red amid the aching pain. Julius was in love with me¡­? ¡°When we found out that the Federation was invading, the last Julius spoke to me about was how he was going to lay bare his feelings and confess to you,¡± Brutus¡¯s hurtful eyes trail off to the side ¡°he seemed awfully serious about the idea, too. When he had his mind on something, he¡¯ll do it.¡± ¡°Brutus¡­ this is¡­¡± I mutter, holding the bandanna closer to my chest ¡°I¡¯m not sure what to say¡­,¡± considering Brutus¡¯s drunk confession to me back on the Castelforte, am I to take it that the two competed for my love? Before I can deliberate any more on the topic, Brutus shakes his head with another scoff. ¡°It¡¯s nothing to dwell on,¡± Brutus remarks apologetically ¡°after my rejection, I realized he probably had a better chance with you than I did, and now¡­¡± Brutus squeezes his hands ¡°well¡­ I¡¯m sure that in heaven or hell, I¡¯m sure he would be happy to know that you carry around a reminder of him¡­ a reminder that he once lived.¡± I bring the bandanna closer to my chest, squeezing through the clothes so hard that my nails dig into my palm. ¡°Do you resent me¡­ for letting him die?¡± I ask quietly. Brutus shakes his head and gets up from his seat to sit next to me. Without another word, Brutus wraps one arm around me, resting his burly hand on top of my head. ¡°You always have these strange ideas in your head, Li,¡± Brutus replies ¡°you did all you could¡­ I¡¯m not that Jean lady. What has happened, happened, Li. You can¡¯t prevent everyone¡¯s deaths¡­¡± Brutus remarks stroking my head ¡°there¡¯s only so much you can do before from the safety of the Castelforte. Julius knew the risks being a courier pilot¡­ he volunteered for the role so that nobody else would take on the dangerous job. it was only a matter of time before he would have died, especially during the heat of a battle,¡± Brutus says quietly. Afterward, the two of us remain in silence as Brutus holds me close to him and strokes my head. Eventually, we must¡¯ve started docking into the Mathilda, since there is a slight rocking motion as the Shuttle stabilizes itself and aligns onto the gravitational runway strip of the ship, and the rays of sunlight get briefly shrouded by the dimly lit interior of the Mathilda. From the cockpit, Carla confirms that we are close to descending on a landing pad. When the shuttle lands, Brutus releases his grip on me and I scoot away to get up and head for the rear of the shuttle. Without looking back, I activate the ramp door using the console and wait for the ramp to lower, while I wait, I turn my attention back to the still-sitting Brutus. ¡°Back at Valspon¡­ when I returned from the Yilan, Julius promised me he would share a drink of the finest champagne in Toscana once we returned to the Brunsb¨¹ttel,¡± I say warmly ¡°of course¡­ now that isn¡¯t possible. But I hope that in his stead, the two of us can drink to his memory,¡± I say. Brutus¡¯s cheeks flush red, and he scratches the back of his neck as he awkwardly repositions himself in his seat. ¡°I¡¯ll, uh¡­ an interesting offer. I reckon if I did that, Julius will beat the living shit out of me when I see him in Hell,¡± Brutus says wryly, grinning ¡°but I¡¯ll think about it. It¡¯ll be on the table for a while,¡± with that, I take a few steps out of the shuttle, but stop. ¡°You aren¡¯t coming with me, Brutus?¡± I ask in surprise, as Brutus hasn¡¯t moved from his seat yet. He merely leans forward: his arms resting on his knees. After a brief moment, Brutus stares at his feet before looking back at me. ¡°I just got a little bit of thinking to do,¡± Brutus responds ¡°and make up with Carla for what I did earlier. I¡¯ll join you in a little while.¡± ¡°Very well, don¡¯t be too long,¡± I say, excusing myself and heading off onto the ramp. The blinding light is only brief before my eyes adjust to the hanger¡¯s illumination. At last, I¡¯m here. Please¡­ please be alive, Olga! Chapter 76: Toscana Requiem | A Mathilda of Love After the exhaust fumes from our shuttle dissipate, I can''t help but feel cold. Incredibly cold. Even as I make my way around the shuttle¡¯s port side, I find myself tugging at my poncho hoping, to no avail, to shake off this utter coldness. The intensity of the low temperature is starting to make even my ears go numb. ¡°They make these ships too cold¡­ talk about poor ventilation,¡± I mumble to myself while stroking the scar snaking its way through my cheek. While cupping my hood over my ears and neck, I scan the bay for any hopeful signs of Sergi¡¯s shuttle and thus the whereabouts of Olga. It doesn¡¯t take me long to locate it parked in between two other ones. Upon spotting the craft in question, I sigh in relief knowing that Carla¡¯s assumption is correct. Approaching it further, I do not find anyone I can talk to, at least from a glance. I circle it in search of its pilot but come across nothing as usual. It¡¯s only until I decide on activating the craft¡¯s ramp that a booming voice nearly paralyzes me with fear. ¡°Oi! What the hell do you think you¡¯re doing to MY baby?!¡± The burly voice instinctively reels me around with a grab at my ax¡¯s hilt ¡ªbut I decide to relax right after. The overly large man, perhaps a little skinnier than Brutus, approaches me with intense huffs. ¡°Oi, oi, miss, I believe I did ask you a question ¡­?¡± He asks with a sneer. The skinny brute cracks his knuckles rather loudly. Our little stand-off must¡¯ve caught notice of the others in the hanger since I can sense gazes being drawn to us. ¡°Not one for words, eh?¡± The pilot smirks ¡ªagain with the disturbing cracking of his shoulder¡ª¡°If yer hoping to steal MY shuttle, then perhaps I can teach you a lesson with fists?!¡± He yells, taking a few steps closer. Does this man have a death wish to reprimand someone like me?! My eyes shift to Carla¡¯s shuttle, where I expect Brutus to come rushing out any moment. But he never does. Before I can even contemplate how to defuse this bizarre situation by myself, I realize too late the burly pilot taking the initiative and swinging a fist towards me. With a hair-splitting reaction, I duck and roll to the side out of harm¡¯s way ¡ªseconds later, there is a metallic thud as the pilot punches the shuttle¡¯s framing instead. After the pilot retracts, there is a noticeable dent from where the punch was delivered. ¡°Such barbarity!¡± I sputter as I get up to my feet, ¡°are you nothing more than a mindless brute who only acts with their fists?!¡± ¡°Listen here, you little shit,¡± the pilot sneers as he again approaches me menacingly, ¡°I¡¯m not about to have another one of my babies stolen from under me ¡ª¡° an angry furrow of his brows ¡°not again! You crazy runts get so fed up with the Mafia that you think you can run away with your problems! I¡¯ll make you think twice about abandoning your comrades!¡± The man shrieks, lurching forward once more. I clench the handle, lowering myself for a counter-strike intending to bluntly strike him with the ax¡¯s flat knob. Before either of us get the chance to deliver blows, we freeze in place upon hearing someone loudly clear their throat. ¡°Just what the hell are you doing, Feliks?!¡± The interrupter demands in a mature tone. Craning my head given she is barely out of sight, it is a somewhat equally muscular woman asks. For some unshakable feeling, I have a hard time believing that either would be spending their profession as shuttle pilots of all things. Given the physique of either, I imagine either would be better off as lowly-ranked lieutenants in charge of some foot soldiers, to say the least. If I am to assume these two are Sergi¡¯s chauffeurs, I can only ponder the gruffed man¡¯s choice of selection. It leaves me to wonder if I will be leaving the Mafia in good hands once I withdrawal from everyday operations? But realizing I¡¯ve left myself vulnerable in thought once again, I shift my attention back to the one named Felik. He has relaxed, albeit still cautious shifting his gaze between me and his accomplice. ¡°Elena¡­ another brat was trying to steal our shuttle,¡± Felik retorts bitterly ¡°why the hell do they keep going for our shuttle? Why do we get so many deserters?!¡± ¡°As frustrating as it is, Felik, it doesn¡¯t mean you should be throwing your fists around so nilly-willy,¡± the tough Elena sighs in disbelief and strolls in between Felik and I, ¡°please think with that brain of yours for once.¡± ¡°Elena¡­!¡± The buff man utters while gritting his teeth. But she puts a hand up ignoring him. ¡°Please excuse my buddy here,¡± Elena remarks wryly with a wave of her hand ¡°every so often, in some way or another, some disgruntled crew member aboard whatever ship or settlement we visit happens to steal our shuttle. Luckily it hasn¡¯t happened in a while. Not in a couple months at least.¡± I have no reason to doubt her. In the past, there used to be cases of Sergi arriving late to meetings in the past or even not arriving at all. I¡¯ve always been keenly aware of desertion among the fleet, but to think it could be this bad sounds problematic. It leaves me to wonder if there is an issue of mismanagement in the Mafia¡¯s lower hierarchy. If so, I would have to look into it once the Federation threat passes. ¡°Despite what I may look like, I¡¯m not one for violence all that much,¡± Elena states, ¡°if you need someone to talk to about your troubles, I¡¯d be more willing to lend you an ear,¡± she glances over at Felik, who blows through his nostrils ¡°but please, don¡¯t go stealing shuttles if you can¡¯t cope with this life. I¡¯m sure talking it over with the Mathilda captain¡ªor even Sergi¡ªcan work something out that doesn''t involve inconveniencing a whole ¡®lotta people¡­¡± ¡°Sorry,¡± I mutter, ¡°I never got the chance to introduce myself¡­ or what I was doing, for that matter,¡± I cut a sigh as I stroke my scar and then let my hood down. Elena and Felik fold their arms and look at me with suspicion. ¡°I hoped to cut short this misunderstanding sooner,¡± Elena¡¯s eyes sharpen as I continue ¡°when I get the opportunity, I will look into the issues regarding cowards abandoning the Mafia. But that can wait another time. For now, I¡¯ll simply, er¡­ cut straight to the chase: I am the one they call the Madame Scarface.¡± There is a moment of silence as the duo take in what they heard. Upon processing the thought, Elena slaps the side of her face: a surprised chuckle of sorts. Felik lets out a startled yelp and grovels on the cold steel floor. ¡°M-Madame!¡± Felik stammers rather muffled given his face hugs the floor ¡°I¡ªI had no idea! Please forgive my recklessness¡­!¡± ¡°I had a suspicion that was the case!¡± Elena adds, running a hand through her curly ashen hair, ¡°your cute little voice sounded familiar! So this is the little lass that defeated not one, but two Feddie fleets, eh? ¡± She asks enthusiastically. I brush my disfigured cheek in embarrassment and avert my eyes. ¡°Please¡­ it was by no means by any merit by my own,¡± I say softly ¡°it was the contributions of so many heroic captains and pilots that managed to convey my command so thoroughly and without fail.¡± I slip a hand into my poncho and caress Julius¡¯s fine crimson cloth. And even those whose deaths were unwarranted. Elena attempts to laugh it off some more. Awkwardly, she kicks the still-cowering Felik in the shin and easily raises him to his feet. ¡°Knock it off, will ya!?¡± Elena hisses in his ear ¡°what kinda spineless man are you?!¡± ¡°Please think nothing of it,¡± I warmly reply in his stead ¡°as I said, it is my fault for not defusing the situation earlier. I had no idea shuttle-stealing was rather common. On the other hand, it was foolish of me to¡­¡± Felik raises a hand and laughs nervously. ¡°Alright, alright, I think I get it. Right,¡± the muscular Felik says with a shrug. ¡°As long as you don¡¯t have my fingers chopped off, that¡¯s more relief for me to hear.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know what strange tales you may have about punishment,¡± I reply warmly ¡°but I would never inflict such barbaric methods on subordinates,¡± Felik and Elena chuckle nervously. I bite out on my lip before continuing, ¡°anyway, I hoped that one of you would know the whereabouts of Sergi.¡± ¡°Oh shit, the boss is in trouble, isn¡¯t he?¡± Elena groans with a face-palm ¡°I told him that it would be a terrible idea of not joining the council with the Don! No, he wanted to visit someone important to him instead¡­¡± Someone important? I take a step forward while gripping the crimson handkerchief tightly. ¡°No! No, it¡¯s something like that!¡± I say quickly ¡°er¡­ not for any means of punishment, I mean. That particular person he is with¡­ I wish to see them too. Do you know where either are at?¡± The two of them exchange glances before looking back at me with doubt. ¡°I think the boss was in C-block,¡± Elena remarks, scratching her head in ponder ¡°they were moving patients around even when we arrived¡­ so it can be hard to say.¡± When I look over at Felik the man merely shrugs. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. ¡°I was in the mess hall for most of the time,¡± he says somberly ¡°sorry I couldn¡¯t be any more help to you,¡± a pause, ¡°and sorry about earlier.¡± ¡°Think nothing of it, and I appreciate the tip, miss Elena¡± with nothing more to say, the three of us exchange the Mafia salute before I run off into one of the hallways labeled C-D.
The hallways on the Mathilda are unusually wider than I¡¯m accustomed to. But even so, every corridor I wade through is practically crammed with what could be considered maximum capacity. And it is like this no matter which passageway I enter. On the floor, against the lime walls, or sitting in chairs hooked up to IVs. The ones could pass as doctors and nurses wear various-colored armbands, and they scurry from patient to patient trying to keep the flow of triage going. Given the circumstances, not one bats an eye and gives customary salutes¡ªand given the hell these people are going to I am not concerned about it in the slightest. All I desire right now is the well-being of Olga. But even so, it is difficult in catching the attention of any given medical staff. Most brush me off, carrying with them medical supplies and tending to the ones that cry out for attention. I peek into some rooms, hoping to find any glimpse of Olga. In most rooms, dozens are filled with black body-bags. But for the most part, most are used as makeshift wards, likewise, all overflowing with the incapacitated. All hopeless and despair. The incredible sorry state of seeing so many Taiga refugees makes my heart and facial scar ache continuously. But even so, after exhausting most of my options in the C-block section, there is still no sign of Olga¡ªor even Sergi for that matter. Try as I might in quelling my distress, I rummage through the overpopulated passageways do I find a beacon of hope: the captain of the Mathilda, the mighty bearded Frans. The captain, surrounded by a few lackeys, quickly takes notice of me seemingly with great alarm. With a lumbering arm, he dismisses the obedient lackeys and shepherds the two of us into a nearby hallway that connects the two C-D blocs. ¡°Madame!¡± He utters in a hoarse tone ¡°I never expected you to come to my ship in person! I heard there was a summoning from the Don himself addressed to the top lieutenants¡­¡± the greatly-bearded captain frowns ¡°was I supposed to come, as well? Forgive me if that is the case,¡± Frans asks uncharacteristically nervously. In response, I give him a reassuring hand-wave. Frans, holding his breath, sighs with relief. ¡°No, no, it is nothing of the sort¡­ I¡¯m here to find Sergi and¡­¡± I clear my throat, my eyes drifting to two Mathilda subordinates carrying a full stretcher, ¡°the captain of the Taiga.¡± ¡°Ah¡­ Serg. Yes, the cap did drop by,¡± Frans strolls past me while stroking his beard ¡°I was also caught off-guard when he approached me as well. But my reaction was tamer compared to seeing you since I imagined he would be going to the Don¡¯s council meeting and was most curious about his business here,¡± Frans offers a mild chuckle before continuing ¡°Miss Kaiser was in critical condition, Madame. Serg was deathly afraid she wouldn¡¯t make it. I¡¯m lucky enough that she and the surviving crew survived just in the nick of time before the Taiga was lost,¡± Frans grits his teeth and punches the faintly green wall in frustration, ¡°if only there was more I could have done during the battle¡­¡± Frans trails off melancholy. The loss of the Taiga is indeed an unfortunate one and will leave the Mafia in a more vulnerable position than it already is. The firepower the Taiga was capable of could not be underestimated. However, even aside from the core firepower it provided, I stand to reason that the Taiga has served its purpose as a trump card on more than one occasion. For Olga and the crew, it would be nothing more than an enormous metallic tomb after today. ¡°I will worry about the loss of the Taiga later¡ªwhere are the two of them?¡± I demand, trying to keep my composure. I nervously stroke my bandanna from beneath the poncho: the aching of my blemished cheek for a soothing rub goes unanswered. For the longest time, the Mathilda captain heaves a troubling sigh. His head sinks low for a while before he turns to face me. He points further down the hallway. ¡°Because of her critical condition, I sent her away to D-2. That block and section in particular houses the ship¡¯s medical bay,¡± Frans states grimacing. The very mention of Olga being mortally wounded gives me a dreadful rush of goosebumps. ¡°She¡¯s not in a pretty state¡ªI have no idea if they finished operating on her yet, but if you want me to take you to her¡ª¡° before Frans gets the chance to finish, I brush the Mathilda captain aside and sprint down the hallway. The more I subject myself to this torment of Olga¡¯s wellbeing, the more stricken with grief I become. I can¡¯t stand a single second of it any longer. The section of the D-block I race through is peculiarity empty ¡ªand as I sprint through more of these interconnecting passageways, I do not encounter a single soul, and not so much as a single sound could be heard. The lack of human life makes it feel as though the Mathilda is nothing more than an eternal labyrinth of loneliness. Just pale-green walls that twist and turn on occasions. Passageways that go on forever. Passageways that seemingly go nowhere to elsewhere. How I wish I could see Olga. I want to see her just one last time and feel her smooth skin and soft hair. I just want closure to Olga ¡¯s condition ¡ªregardless of being alive or not, I no longer wish to dwell on Pandora¡¯s box any longer. And with those muddling thoughts, I press on through sheer adrenaline. In time, I do come across familiar sights of people hugging the walls, clinging to the throes of life. But unlike before, it is a scarce sight to behold. It is more organized here. People are more likely to get treated properly despite their mortal wounds, if only because of the lower ratio of patients to volunteer medical staff. The subordinates here are keener on noticing me¡ªsome even stumble out of their daze to give salutes. Salutations that I ignore without further thought. I crash into many carelessly, and just as forcefully barge into every compartment I pass by in hopes of spotting Olga. But the result is always the same. I receive only puzzled looks and confusion. But even so, I rip myself from the revelation that each Pandora¡¯s box offers onto the next one. It is a grueling cycle of participation, revelation, and grief. And it simply never ends, much like my battle with Fate. But as I languish about this painful experience, I stop dead in my tracks upon taking notice of a certain individual all too familiar with me. That unruly raven hair. Those subtle claw marks across his face: Sergi Thalhauser. He has not taken notice of me just, having just exited a room a little further down the corridor. The gruff man looks troubled: I see it in his eyes a sense of uneasiness. As I slowly approach the man, Sergi takes notice and looks no less shocked than Frans and his pilots did. But it¡¯s a reaction that passes over quickly. ¡°I reckon you¡¯re furious why I neglected to join the rest at the Montepuez? ¡± Sergi asks. He straightens up, his lips pursed. ¡°No¡ªquite the contrary, I¡¯m hurting myself for not making the same decision¡­ Olga?¡± I reply softly. My eyes dart to the door he came from. Sergi seems to have taken notice, and without another word steps out of the way to let me pass. I slowly, ever so slowly, inch toward the door offered by Sergi. With an outstretched trembling hand, I place a hand on the door panel, but a stint of hesitation stops me from activating the door switch. I glance at Sergi, who returns the gaze with sorrowful eyes before departing in the direction that I came, leaving me mostly alone in the hallway. With one last push, I breathe out heavily and open the door¡ªand step inside. It¡¯s a rather dim room, a compartment noticeably smaller than the other patient rooms I observed. It is devoid of most furnishing, other than the necessities that a patient or a visitor would need. In a room devoid of color or beauty, a lone woman, bandaged plenty and lying peacefully in her bed, partially sits up straight at my entrance. Half her face, including her right eye, is covered in presumably fresh bandages. Her left arm is all but amputated. Her left, soulless, beady eye, pierces through me briefly¡ªbefore her expression lights up almost instantly at the realization of her guest. ¡°Li,¡± the crippled Olga murmurs ever so softly. She doesn¡¯t need to say anymore. The swelled-up emotions in me burst like an uncontrollable torrent. Before I know it, I rush over to the side of her bed and collapse to my knees, burying my head into her covers. ¡°Olga¡­ Olga!¡± I gasp, unable to stifle violent sobbing, ¡°Olga! I¡¯m so sorry¡­ I abandoned you. I¡¯ve abandoned the one and only love I¡¯ve held dear for an uncertain future¡­ and now look at you¡ªwhat have I done, Olga?!¡± A hand brushes my head ¡ªa gracious rub that does little to stem the tide of my emotional outburst. ¡°Li¡­ I could never, in a million years, believe you have done anything wrong,¡± Olga says heartily, ¡°I would never, ever, in an eternity consider what you did as abandonment¡­ I knew you would come to look for me¡ªto come back for me,¡± she continues with the petting: her long delicate fingers combing through hair, ¡°I was reckless even though you chided me for my past actions¡­ I went against your wish and put myself at a far greater risk than before. ¡°But I did it all for you, Li. I would do anything for you, no matter what. That is not only my left debt to you but a desire born out of love,¡± Olga softly says. I lift my head, and through teary vision I see Olga smiling weakly. She wipes the tears away, and the two of us embrace each other tightly. And for a long time, we remain like this, and the two of us break down as one into sobbing messes. But it is not cries of sadness¡ªbut ones of happiness. The two of us, separated and longing for each other for so long, have at last been reunited. Ready to overcome whatever fate may throw at us in the future¡ªuncertain of the future that Kamon may have in store for us, and what the Metropolitan fleets may do at the Frankish Domains. So long as I have Olga by my side, nothing else matters. So long as Olga remains alive¡ªso too, does my humanity. Chapter 77: Toscana Requiem | Two and a Half Men It took Brutus some time but after enough groveling and then some finger-pointing on where to go, the giant stumbles his way into D-2. He¡¯s never been on the Mathilda before, much less any ship other than the Castelforte and the big boss¡¯s ship, so this ostensibly large ship has been rather difficult to navigate for the Scarface ¡¯s subordinate. The Mathilda seems deceptively larger than it has any reason to be. The interior is so wide that Brutus wouldn''t dismiss the possibility of several large pack animals moving through these corridors with ease. And perhaps because of that, it¡¯s a fortune that the Mathilda has such a huge carrying capacity. The men and women of the Taiga litter the Mathilda¡¯s hallways no matter which corridor he heads into. It pains his chest to see them in such destitute conditions. From discarded bandages lay about, to used bloodied medical instruments hastily thrown aside or left behind on mountainous trays. Brutus can only imagine what went through Li ¡¯s mind as she passed through these unfortunate souls¡ªalone. Without someone to share her burden, and that of course pains Brutus. Brutus hurries along, lost in thoughts. But eventually, the strides slow down until the man stops altogether. In the midst of half-dead and wounded, Brutus ponders what he would even do once he catches up with Li. On one hand, if Olga happens to be alive, he¡¯ll be relieved that Li won¡¯t further lose herself to sorrow. But for Brutus, it also means he would be nothing more than a simple confidant to her. Perhaps even less than that now, given Li plans to effectively retire from the Castelforte, it would mean seeing less of Li than what he has since before this Toscana conflict started. And that weighs heavily in Brutus¡¯s heart. Before Brutus realizes it, he¡¯s envious of Olga. Li cares about her men deeply, rather she is aware of their various feelings for her or not. But the one that matters the most in the woman¡¯s heart is Olga¡ªor Simon if Brutus has to guess. Olga will be able to remain by Li¡¯s side forever, and the likes of him will be doomed to a lousy life on the Castelforte. Envious, huh? Brutus ponders. And the bear-of-a-man stops, disturbed by his train of thoughts. Maybe Li was right on the mark about him back on the Castelforte. Maybe Brutus did drink beyond his means to do. Even now the alcohol he consumed hours ago feels as though it rubs off on him. A Buff? Or would this be a hangover, perhaps? Brutus groans, and as he does so he leans against the wall left in ponder if he should still check on Li¡ªto give her well-deserved piracy with Olga¡ªor to turn back and wait for her in Carla¡¯s shuttle. Just as Brutus decides to turn back for Carla¡¯s shuttle, he nearly collides into a confrontation with a passerby. Brutus nearly knocks him over, and out of abrupt consideration offers the downed man a hand up. ¡°Sorry ¡®bout that, my head was stuck in the clouds,¡± Brutus remarks as the man steadies himself. There is something off about the fellow that Brutus strikes as odd. Brutus certainly feels like he has seen the scruffy fellow before. The man neither looks like a possible patient nor has an armband designating him as a volunteer nurse. Could he be a visitor, perhaps? ¡°It was my fault for not looking,¡± the man grunts dusting his poncho off. He looks up at Brutus and squints, ¡°say, I feel like I¡¯ve seen you around before,¡± a scratch of his stubble before continuing ¡°but I can¡¯t put my finger on it.¡± ¡°Yeah, I was thinking the same, actually,¡± Brutus replies wryly, crossing his huge arms in the process. ¡°You certainly don¡¯t look like you have gentle hands for tending patients, either,¡± the man concludes. Brutus brushes off the insult in preparation for his own, but before he gets the chance to refute, he is struck by a bolt of lightning at an abrupt revelation. With a heavy sigh, Brutus slaps himself on the side of the head. Why didn''t I realize it sooner? Brutus laments. ¡°You¡­,¡± Brutus squints, ¡°you¡¯re¡­ Sergi, are you not?¡± After a pause of thoughtfulness, Sergi gives a slight nod. ¡°Brutus, right?¡± Sergi asks with a sly smile ¡°or as Li likes to say¡­ ¡®that overly-concerned giant oaf¡¯,¡± Brutus gives a nod in response, wincing in the process. ¡°Yes, yes. You¡¯re right on the mark,¡± Brutus says with a shrug, ¡°well, it might not be the most pleasant way to finally become acquainted with you, but a pleasure to meet you, regardless.¡± ¡°Likewise,¡± Sergi says with another nod ¡°but that aside, let¡¯s continue conversing on the way back to our shuttles,¡± Sergi says gesturing for the oaf to walk with him back in the direction Brutus came from. Brutus, confused, doesn¡¯t join him at first and crosses his arms. ¡°We aren¡¯t joining Li and¡­ Olga?¡± Brutus asks, rather hesitantly. Given that Li hasn¡¯t come back with Sergi, it could mean one of two things: either she wants time alone to grieve Olga¡¯s death or Sergi left them alone to reconcile. ¡°Olga is alive and recovering,¡± Sergi says as he begins walking. For a few moments, those words bring Brutus assurance. But at the same time, deep down Brutus finds himself almost pained by the news¡ªin some sense, his hopes dashed. Maybe it¡¯s the alcohol, Brutus somberly ponders, before shaking the idea off and catching up to Sergi. ¡°I believe the two deserve some time alone together after everything they¡¯ve been through,¡± Sergi states shooting a glance at Brutus ¡°it¡¯s the most we can do for them¡­ I imagine if we were present, it would only make our hearts ache, don¡¯t you think?¡± Brutus ponders the question in silence as they make their way through this frustrating maze. Unfortunately for Sergi, Brutus has more or less already forgotten the way back to the shuttle bay. Fortunately for Brutus, Sergi has spent more time and thus seems more knowledgeable on the Mathilda¡¯s layout. As Brutus searches for an answer and thinks about Sergi¡¯s words, he suddenly breaks the spell of silence with a question of his own. ¡°So what made you go out of your way to check upon a captain like Olga¡ªcausing Li all this time instead of convening with the other captains at the Montepuez?¡± There is no response from Sergi even after a while leaving Brutus unsure if Sergi doesn''t intend to answer. As they near the shuttle bay, Sergi clears his throat and speaks. ¡°I could very well ask why you would bother wasting time escorting the Madame when you clearly looked agonized at the thought of Li and Olga being together,¡± Sergi concludes. Brutus crosses his arms again, frowning with curled lips. Agonized? Brutus wonders, well, perhaps the man isn''t too far off with his assumption. ¡°I¡¯m right, aren¡¯t I?¡± Sergi asks as if taunting the larger man. Rather than head for either shuttle, the duo makes their way towards a vacant part of the bay, out of earshot of any wandering personnel. ¡°Maybe so¡­¡± Brutus replies wryly, ¡°would you say it was worth going out of your way to pay Olga a visit?¡± Brutus eyes the older but smaller man closely ¡°worth the potential wrath of both the Don and the Madame? ¡± Sergi leans against the wall, blowing air as his gaze wanders off. This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there. ¡°Was it worth it, huh?¡± The gruff man muses as he runs a hand through his oily-like hair, ¡°that ¡®Don¡¯ bastard can go straight to hell. Looking back on it now, maybe I made a fatal mistake of not going in Olga¡¯s stead. Li knew she would likely do something irrational¡ªand she did. I should¡¯ve objected¡ªand I didn¡¯t.¡± ¡°And as for Li?¡± Brutus asks, continuing his observation of the gruff captain. Sergi doesn¡¯t say anything but merely shakes his head. ¡°Luckily, Li didn¡¯t seem too concerned about my absence,¡± Sergi replies, and Brutus sighs in relief, ¡°she came for Olga, after all; not me. Li was never the one to punish her subordinates over mundane things. I was rather surprised she came so late, but I suppose the obligations to the Don took priority.¡± ¡°She was gravely torn over it,¡± Brutus interjects ¡°Li mulled over her decision between Olga and the Don. She feared that the boss would do something rash if she of all people didn''t show up.¡± ¡°I would imagine so,¡± Sergi lifts his head against the wall, ¡°I had it easier than she did, I suppose. But coming back to your earlier question¡­ was it worth neglecting my duty to check up on Olga? Well¡­¡± Sergi coughs and crosses his arms tightly, ¡°Olga was rather shocked to see me. She expressed her gratitude at first, but¡­¡± Sergi trails off with a frown. ¡°All she could talk about was Li?¡± Brutus asks. It¡¯s a few moments before Sergi reluctantly answers with a nod. ¡°This might be a little direct¡­ but am I to assume you have feelings for Olga?¡± To Brutus¡¯s surprise, Sergi practically scoffs and glances at his counterpart with a smirk. ¡°That must be rough,¡± Brutus says wryly, ¡°but I feel your pain.¡± ¡°Sharing pain?¡± Sergi says trying to stifle a laugh, ¡°the pain of unrequited love, huh?¡± For some odd reason, Brutus felt like it was a good opportunity to open up about the drunken confession to Li. ¡°You have my sincere condolences,¡± Sergi says not-so-convincingly, unabashedly grinning. For some reason or another, Brutus couldn¡¯t help but burst out into laughter causing Sergi to let loose as well. After the duo calms down Sergi continues, ¡°to drag yourself through the mud for Li¡¯s sake, that¡¯s a dedication I can only admire. Particularly through this hellish fight, we endured through, where everyone pins their hopes and dreams upon a single person,¡± a deep breath, ¡°it must¡¯ve taken a tremendous toll on Li. How I envy that you could be by her side during these trying times,¡± Sergi says softly, ¡°to see the one you love in pain¡ªand you¡¯re too helpless to do anything.¡± ¡°I felt I did what I could,¡± Brutus sighs, ¡°I¡¯m just glad we have closure to this whole thing¡­ not just Olga, but the Fed threat as well,¡± that remark causes a look of doubt by Sergi. ¡°You truly believe that the Metropolitans will simply back out of the Mafia¡¯s sphere of influence? Only a fool would believe¡­¡± Sergi pauses and frowns, ¡°that¡¯s what Li thinks, doesn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Brutus says, rubbing his chin, ¡°though there¡¯s a bigger cast of doubt if they will redouble their efforts in the Frankish Domains. But she believes we managed to achieve a, er¡­ tactical victory to say the least. The Feds have suffered so many losses that she is inclined to believe they won¡¯t dare risk any more losses attempting to conquer the Toscana region,¡± as Brutus finishes Sergi gives a nod of approval. ¡°The most we can do is wait and see the Feds next movement,¡± Sergi says ¡°but I can see what the Madame may be getting at. Toscana is not worth a sea of blood, much less an ounce. We can only hope that the Fed high command is not full of buffoons to commit to such an atrocity.¡± ¡°The looming Metropolitan threat aside¡­,¡± Brutus hesitantly pauses, unsure if he should share Li¡¯s plans for the future, ¡°Li didn¡¯t tell you what she plans to do once this all ends, did she?¡± Intrigued, Sergi scratches his stubbly chin. ¡°She didn¡¯t. We didn¡¯t talk much at all, to say the least,¡± Sergi remarks more than a little concerned. Brutus, after deeply exhaling, spills the beans on Li¡¯s wish for a reclusive life raising orphaned children. When Brutus finishes, Sergi is silent for the longest time. When Brutus examines him, the man looks flabbergasted, to say the least. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t be surprised¡­ but frankly, given her youth, it would make sense for her to want to provide welfare to those now robbed of a proper future.¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± Brutus asks. Sergi shoots him a surprised look. ¡°You¡¯re close to her, and you don¡¯t know how she wounded up in the Mafia?¡± Sergi asks with bemusement. Brutus, now more intrigued, shakes his head. ¡°She didn¡¯t join the Mafia out of her free will ¡ªher family was slaughtered when she was a mere child. Simon¡­ and by extent, the Mafia has been her found family ever since then.¡± Brutus leans heavily against the wall, baffled by the news. I truly had no idea, he thinks lightly bumping his head against the wall, I truly had no idea Li had such an unfortunate past. ¡°What do you intend to do?¡± Brutus asks, ¡°will you follow in their footsteps?¡­ you have control of the Hugh, I believe it was?¡± When Brutus finishes, Sergi clears his throat and rubs his neck anxiously. ¡°Truthfully, I don¡¯t know,¡± Sergi tersely says, ¡°I can¡¯t imagine leaving either alone to care for little ones¡ª¡± it¡¯s a comment that evokes a laugh from Brutus, ¡°you think so too, don¡¯t you? Especially in the state that Olga is in¡­ I imagine she will get a prosthetic arm eventually. As it stands, the two of them deal with hundreds of man-children. Yet, that¡¯s a whole world¡¯s different than dealing with literal babes.¡± ¡°I told Li that I wasn¡¯t sure about spending my days changing diapers or rearing children,¡± Brutus says ¡°not to mention that a group like us would give kids the stuff of nightmares,¡± Brutus lifts his burly hands to his face ¡°these hands were never meant for tender loving care.¡± Sergi¡¯s only response is a chuckle and Brutus embarrassingly rubs the back of his head. ¡°I did reassure Li that I wouldn''t mind stopping every often to help out in any way I can.¡± Sergi nods, pushing away from the wall and towards his shuttle. ¡°I believe I will do the same¡­¡± Sergi comments rather laconically, ¡°maybe play a more active role in helping them out. This might sound pathetic¡­ but I truly care for Olga. I want to help her out in any way I can, even if I am treated so much as a neglected dog. So long as Olga is happy¡­¡± ¡°Then you¡¯re happy, right?¡± Brutus finishes for him. Sergi glances back, blowing air as a response. ¡°If you¡¯re heading for your shuttle, perhaps I can join you for a while. I imagine the two will be intimate for a while. If you have some booze stocked, I¡¯m sure we can share our sorrows over some drinks to pass the time.¡± Sergi shoots him a grin¡ªa scoff. Then Sergi proceeds towards his shuttle. ¡°I don¡¯t see why not¡­ I gotta warn you, however. I like my drinks strong. If you¡¯re inclined, though, I do have some other drinks to mix it with if you¡¯re too much of a pansy.¡± Brutus nearly cringes at the tactical blunder he may soon commit but tries to laugh it off. ¡°After today, I¡¯ll need the strongest shit to wash my sorrow down. Live in the moment, and worry about the future later,¡± Brutus says coolly, grimacing a little. Sergi must¡¯ve taken notice of Brutus¡¯s reluctance and nearly roars in laughter. ¡°A good attitude to have,¡± Sergi remarks as he instructs the nearby Elena to prepare for their hospitality, then confirms with Feliks that they still have a supply of liquor left on the shuttle. ¡°Li was right to handpick you as a handyman, I¡¯ll give her that much!¡± [author] Original authors note transplanted from RR, just so you guys get some love :) A year ago around this time, I began serial-writing what was the first draft of Saga of the Cosmic Heroes. After some feedback in the first week or two of publication, I made the decision of scrapping that draft and starting the narrative over since I was convinced it wasn''t very good. What followed was an unbelievably messy start, one that I was equally not confident of. But as time went on I was content with how the story was turning out, even more so after I got around to rewriting the leftover 1st draft chapters into ~Military Boots Reminiscence~ and felt that there was, at long last, a cohesive story without leftover spoiler chapters that kept me awake at night. I could go on about how quarantine impacted my writing, but frankly, I won''t. Life and especially my daytime job remained the same as it always did until mid-December when I became infected from a non-work-related source and I got so sick around the Jung Lee chapters that I really did believe I would die without finishing SotCH and without any way for people to get some closure on the story, even if it meant just bullet point summaries of what happens later. But I recovered and life has been the same as always. But I pulled through, and though I''m still nowhere close to finishing SotCH, I hope I live long enough that I can finish the story in some form or another. I think so long as I have everyone''s support, no matter how small, I''m sure I will finish it one day. Even if RR dies and I lose my PC or something, I''ll find a way to continue writing and delivering chapters. This ended up sort of long-winded. But I just wanted to say: Thank you to those die-hard readers for following SotCH since the very beginning, since March/April 2020. And thank you to everyone else who has picked up SotCH in its voyage since then. I know I say this a lot but I really do mean it: from the bottom of my heart, thank you for following and reading a story that means the world to me. I hope in the coming months and years I can whisk you all away to another world to experienc the joys, sorrows, and laughter of fictional waifus and husbandos, even if it''s only for a few minutes at most. Chapter 78: Toscana Requiem | A Oath, A Declaration
AUGUST 2OTH, 220
THE MATHILDA: OUTSIDE OLGA¡¯S CABIN
The Castelforte¡¯s patience wears thin. I almost wish I didn¡¯t stop by the Mathilda¡¯s bridge because it is almost always lackluster news. Between the sixteenth and the nineteenth, there have been no reports of Metropolitan movements. I was almost certain that the Metropol would be practically paralyzed for a few days more at least. I learned that Olga¡¯s preemptive strike on the supply fleet turned out to be far more effective than I could¡¯ve possibly imagined. Practically the entire supply fleet was later reported to me on the seventeenth to be thoroughly destroyed. Even most of the supply fleet¡¯s escorts were seemingly sunk. Though a Taiga survivor that I talked to remarked the Ruthenian elements abandoned their suzerain and retreated further into the Rouen corridor. Olga¡¯s subordinate further stated that if it were not for my distress signal, the Ruthenian squadrons and what remains of the shattered supply division were this close to annihilation. It is an interesting fact that the colonial parties did not either engage or join the fray itself. Had they done so, the Taiga fleet¡¯s momentum and by extension, my warpath would have both been in jeopardy. On the other hand, it is simply a far less redundant waste of life. But regardless, knowing that the Metropol fleet is seemingly stranded across the Rouen without ample supplies brings me some form of relief. Even if I failed to win the battle here, knowing that they would go this long¡ªand who knows how much longer¡ªwithout even adequate supplies brings me assurance that I could rally more men and ships for continued resistance. Even at that, I could persuade the Don to open his eyes and negotiate peace with the Metropolitan leadership, as trivially impossible as that may be. Even the maniac I am forced to call father would come to a face-heel realization that further resistance would be futile. The longer either of us resist, the more unjust conditional terms we may face. And just how unjust would their commands be? Looking down at the tray of hard biscuits and lukewarm coffee, I am left to wonder: even if the Don accepted the notion of negotiating peace, would he utilize me as a scapegoat to save himself¡­? ¡°Ah, Madame, it ¡¯s a pleasant morning, isn¡¯t it?¡± The soothing, ever so relaxing voice of Olga brings me back to focus. The lanky woman stands outside her cabin room, hand on hip as she does some stretches. Lately, she has always been doing this in some form or another. Olga claims she¡¯s fit as she always is despite my objections to resting more. Just last night she was helping out in the canteen, doing what she could in contributing to the welfare of others. Interestingly, even Sergi felt uncomfortable by her renewed rebound. ¡°Yes, yes, it is,¡± I reply, opening the door to her cabin and setting the tray down on the end table. Olga follows suit and happily reaches for one of the hard, tanned biscuits. ¡°Olga, I thought I asked you last night to take it easy,¡± I say as I watch her nonchalantly take a large chomp out of the rocky ¡®food¡¯. Olga seems to appreciate it, regardless, however. ¡°I couldn¡¯t help myself,¡± Olga says after a mouthful of the hardy cake, ¡°I don¡¯t want to sit around so much until I lose the strength in my legs. I already have one useless limb, I don¡¯t want to have two more,¡± Olga says as she gets closer. With a gentle touch, Olga caresses the scar running along my cheek; my blemish tinges to her icy touch. I instinctively place a hand over hers, squeezing it tightly. ¡°I couldn¡¯t stand the thought of being a burden to you any longer, Madame.¡± ¡°What have I told you about calling me by that distasteful name?¡± I remark, wincing as Olga runs fingertips alongside my facial scar. Her hand traces down to my chin and she lifts it slightly up. ¡°That side¡­ the biscuit, is it your liking? The Mathilda chefs let me have my way¡­¡± I avert my gaze amid Olga¡¯s smile, ¡°but cooking has never been my forte. I did what I could with limited supplies, and yet it came out so bitter. And I know for certain the others who sampled it didn¡¯t appreciate it, but they still remarked that it was good for my sake¡­¡± I trail off locking eyes with Olga. She never once ceases smiling. ¡°For a beginner, I think you did decently. It was a little plain,¡± my heart sinks a little at the critique, ¡°but just the fact that you went out of your way for me to do a task so mundane makes up for it. Food created by the ones you love speaks volumes for itself, don¡¯t you think?¡± Olga asks as cheerfully as she could ¡°you could make the most overly sweet food¡ªor spicy or even bitter¡ªand I would still cherish it all the same, Mada¡­ Li,¡± Olga finishes abruptly, her smile beams. My cheeks flush with embarrassment even as Olga continues to stroke my disfigured cheek. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ also using it as a learning experience,¡± Olga nods as I continue ¡°for when the two of us must act more independent of the Mafia. Caring and looking over a cadre of deprived children,¡± I afford a wince as I smirk ¡°let us hope that they are as acceptable to my cooking as you are.¡± Though with that said, it would not hurt to enlist the help of the Haru woman. In any case, when I disclosed to Olga of my plans after the Metropol incursion, she was very open to the idea. Even after I asked if Olga if she desired something else¡ªif she had dreams of her own to follow, she declined any and only desired to fulfill mine; whatever it may be, and nothing less. And for that, I¡¯m grateful she is willing to follow me down this path of seclusion. ¡°It will take a long time, but I¡¯m sure they will come around to appreciating you in many ways,¡± Olga says as she leans in closer, ¡°just as much as I am fond of you,¡± the blonde is close enough that her soft breathing brushes off my lower face. She closes her eyes and purses her soft pink lips. I clench Olga¡¯s shirting, and before I know it, my chest pounds remarkably fast. Then, as if on instinct I extend on my tiptoes and mimic Olga¡¯s advance, slowly closing my eyes with Olga imprinted in my imagination. A slide of the door from behind us, followed by two men conversing. I recognize the voices as belonging to Brutus and captain Frans. Most immediately I peak at the doorway and realize Brutus is leading Frans but not facing us. My heart skips several beats and a flood of memories of rejecting Brutus flashes before me. Knowing that Brutus would be incredibly hurt if he saw us now, and knowing I haven''t told Olga of our time together on the Castelforte, I break away from Olga and clear my throat. Olga must¡¯ve realized in time, and embarrassedly turns around to cram another biscuit into her mouth. Brutus turns to face us, blissfully unaware of what happened before him. Given Brutus¡¯s large physique, Frans must not have seen anything either. ¡°Oh, Olga is up and about? Great!¡± Brutus remarks stepping out of the way for the captain before continuing, ¡°cap here kept nagging to come and see you two¡­ I tried to let him know, for what it¡¯s worth, not to interrupt you two of all people. It¡¯s practically suicide.¡± If only Brutus knew what he had walked in on just moments before. If these doors weren¡¯t so loud, I imagine without quick thinking that we¡¯d all be in an embarrassing situation right about now. Turning my attention to Frans, waiting for the man to share his thoughts. ¡°Well, authority over my ship aside¡­ Olga, dear, how are you faring now?¡± The bearded captain asks, eyeing her from top to bottom. Olga turns back around after washing down the biscuit with the terrible ersatz coffee. The lanky woman gives a nod and weakish smile, perhaps stomaching the awful substance she just downed. For what it¡¯s worth, Brutus is the one who tried his best to brew it with what he had on hand. ¡°Better now more than before, cap¡¯n,¡± Olga says with a low bow, ¡°thank you for hosting me and my beloved crew.¡± ¡°Well, it was my pleasure, but¡­¡± Frans trails off with a heavy sigh as he returns my gaze, ¡°if you think you made a full recovery, then I believe it would be reasonable to discharge you now. And by that, I do mean all of you getting off my ship,¡± Frans grimaces before he continues, ¡°that also goes for all the other crew members of the Taiga¡ªthose who believe they are fit to return to duty, more or less. Brutus and I already went around and told them to pack what belongings they may have and prepare to leave,¡± Frans cuts a long sigh ¡°I know it¡¯s rather cruel of me,¡± Frans extends his arms ¡°but you must understand the situation I am in. I may have miscalculated a fair bit by volunteering to host a wardship, but I realize my mistakes now,¡± Frans finishes and lets his arms drop to his sides. The captain sweeps his gaze at everyone without another word. ¡°I understand the situation you are in, and I hold no issue with what you¡¯re doing. As Olga said, I appreciate the hospitality you offered to the Taiga crew,¡± I look up at Olga who takes notice and returns the gaze with a smile, ¡°I¡¯ll assist Olga by helping her clear out as soon as we can. Do you have anything else to relay to me, captain?¡± Frans shakes his head. He takes a step back and dismisses himself seeing as he needs to inform the remaining occupants of their eviction. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. With the captain gone, I turn my attention to the oaf. ¡°And what of you, Brutus? Did I not ask you to remain on the Castelforte until my arrival? What was so important that you needed to come out of your way in person?¡± I crack a grimacing smirk ¡°did you sorely miss my presence that much?¡± Olga stiffens up briefly, and Brutus blows air. Of course, if Brutus is here, then it likely means that my presence is urgently needed on the Castelforte, and that might entail just one thing. ¡°Well, you see¡­¡± Brutus starts before I jump to cut him off. ¡°Never mind that,¡± I turn to face Olga ¡°are you fine with moving to the Castelforte? Do you need a moment to gather any belongings?¡± Olga thinks for a moment before shaking her head. ¡°Other than a few sets of clothes, I can leave right away,¡± Olga states, ¡°everything else was lost when my ship was scuttled, unfortunately.¡± ¡°I see¡­ Brutus,¡± I turn back to face the oaf ¡°if you so may, please gather Olga¡¯s clothes for her and we¡¯ll meet up in the first hangar bay, understood?¡± When I finish, Brutus looks a little puzzled. Then embarrassed: his cheeks flush red. ¡°Er¡­,¡± Brutus¡¯s eyes dart between Olga and me, ¡°are you, uh¡­ alright with me handling a woman¡¯s clothes?¡± I glance at Olga, who also seemed abashed at my decision. What¡¯s wrong with these two? It¡¯s merely clothing. It¡¯s nothing to be worked up over. I rub my scarred forehead and heave a sigh. ¡°If this is as urgent as it seems, then hurry up and put it in a bag or two. If neither of you has qualms with that, then let us carry on. Brutus, we will meet you there,¡± I state as I head past Brutus out the door. I wait outside for Olga, who joins me not long after in making our way to the hangar bay. Occasionally, I glance over at Olga expecting her to coldly question me about my relationship with Brutus: but she never does. She has a stoic expression, so it is difficult to tell if it is something that bothers her in the first place. Could I be overthinking it, then? As if on cue, Olga does pay attention to me staring at her. She seems a bit surprised but then smiles. ¡°Is something weighing on your mind, Madame? Perhaps you are imagining I am upset with Brutus?¡± ¡°Well¡­ in a way, yes. I kept expecting you to interrogate me about us being close¡­ or something of that nature,¡± I cock my head to the side ¡°maybe I was expecting¡­ jealousy?¡± That evokes a laugh from the lanky blonde, which does catch me off-guard. Olga shoots me a beaming smile. ¡°Jealousy, you say?¡± She says running her hand through golden bangs ¡°well¡­ when you put it that way. I suppose I sort of am, knowing that someone other than me was by your side. But that¡­ Brutus? He seems like a good man to keep you from acting too irrational. I could perform my tasks as the Taiga captain content with the fact that you have dependable subordinates like him. ¡± ¡°Olga¡­¡± I start, but Olga reaches out and rustles my hair. She cracks a grin. ¡°Don¡¯t dwell on it so much, Li¡­ oh,¡± the two of us stop, the shivering breeze of the overly conditioned Mathilda becomes all the more obvious. ¡°Seems we¡¯ve reached the hangar¡­ and most of my Taiga crew has arrived already,¡± it is just as Olga says. It would be an understatement to say that many are huddled together in misery, and what a sorry state they are in! Given the number of shuttles in ratio to the miserable horde present, it¡¯ll take at least a dozen trips to ferry everyone off the Mathilda, and give Frans much deserved breathing space. In the meantime, however, these poor souls are left to languish until it is their time to board for departure. A press on the back catches me off-guard, but I realize it is Olga giving me a few pats. She gestures me forward as if prompting me to try and raise the spirits of her crew: I let out a quiet scoff. ¡°It¡¯s your crew, Olga¡­ wouldn¡¯t it be better for you to act like a captain, for at least a little longer?¡± I ask warmly. ¡°I think what they need the most right now is someone with charm and charisma,¡± Olga replies with that bleak smile of hers. She rubs her arm¡¯s stump before reaching over to mess with my hair again. ¡°You¡¯re horrible, Olga,¡± I remark wryly. I take a few steps forward, cutting loose a heavy sigh while rubbing my throat. The Taiga crew-members adjacent to me sheepishly stare up at me, but none say nor do anything. Most keep their heads lowered and tighten their woolly blankets. With another deep breath, I begin to address the crowd. ¡°Men and women of the Taiga! Please heed my voice for this one time,¡± I shout and at once the whole lot of eyes take notice of me, ¡°many of you have served under me directly with your comrades in the Castelforte, and countless more came from other ships. But regardless of your origins, all of you have come to accept the Taiga as their one and only home and forge new esprit de corps on the Taiga. The Taiga was your pride¡ªjust as it was the pride of the Mafia itself. And for years, many of you have done all you could to defend our rights as pirates¡ªto protect one another from the encroaching Federation¡­ from the days the Castelforte first came to be, to the battlefield of Abassi, and here at the treacherous, unforgiving waves of Rouen. ¡°But now the Taiga lies in ruins, it is no more! The ship you called your home¡ªwhere one has enjoyed their moments of happiness and sorrow¡ªtimes of joy and grief is now nothing more than scrap among the starry seas. The place of memories, of bonds and betrayals, and all the good and bad times you experienced in it, and all the unfortunate souls you have called your brothers and sisters have perished¡­ scattered like stardust. There is nothing left for you to offer to the Mafia¡ªnot even a drop of blood or sweat more. Perhaps you may have grown weary¡ªdisillusioned with what may come to be in the coming days. But I reassure you all this¡­ I wish to present you all with choices. ¡°No more will I oblige you to fight for the Mafia. No more, I believe, should any of you throw away your lives, not to ensure each other¡¯s survival, but lay down your lives for a terrible tyrant fueled by paranoia. No more should you suffer and cry as your loved ones die next to you. I offer you all a choice: the freedom to do what you desire. If you wish to wander in search of a new ship to call home: you may do so. If you wish on returning to the Castelforte: you may do so. If you so much desire to run away and flee to havens among the Clusters or planetary settlements¡­ you may do so. ¡°I would not fault you for whichever choice any of you make. I do not desire to chain you to waste your lives for meaningless purposes. You all have a right to live¡­ and it is only fair to live for those who could not,¡± after finishing, I take a heavy inhale and cut an equally long sigh. I then scan the room and pound my chest with a balled fist. In a surprising flurry of frenzy, many stand up and pound their chests repeatedly, sounding hurrahs and other outrageous things like ¡®long live the Madame!¡¯. After the ruckus dies down, I look back at Olga, and the two of us make our way to Carla¡¯s shuttle, where the pilot greets us enthusiastically and informs us that the shuttle will take off shortly. While the shuttle begins preparations to take off, Olga and I began to strap into our seats. As we do so, I spot Brutus as he emerges from the crowd of Taiga sailors to join us on the shuttle. He sits down from across us, and after setting the transparent bags down underneath his seat, turns his attention to me. ¡°I imagine you have some important details for me waiting for me on the Castelforte,¡± I say wryly. Brutus nods and leans forward to clasp his hands together. He glances outside the shuttle before looking back at me. ¡°I wish I had good news for you, Madame,¡± Brutus says after clearing his throat, ¡°I really did.¡± The longer he beats around the bush, the more unsettled with horror I become. ¡°The Federation¡­ the entire Fed fleet is finally making a move.¡± Chapter 79: Toscana Requiem | Rouen, from which a Fire Lingers I can''t believe it. I don¡¯t want to believe it. Even as I wait impatiently for the shuttle doors to lower, I have to take a few steps back in light of the incoming barrage of panicking subordinates flooding into the shuttle¡¯s cramped space. They all utter and cry the same thing: ¡°The Federation is advancing!? What do we do?!¡± But I remain silent, subjecting myself to their piggish whines and immaturity. Brutus, though slow to react, does what he can to pave a way through the horde. Olga, on the other hand, hugs me from behind as the three of us force our way out of the shuttle. From behind, I hear Carla complain about the state of affairs, and I can¡¯t help but scoff at her newfound misfortune. But even so, this is dire indeed. Perhaps I was too naive to believe that the Metropolitans wouldn''t do a round-about and advance. But it all feels so soon. It should¡¯ve taken them at least another part of the week to reorganize and reconsider a renewed offense. Even so¡­ the asteroid shower, though it has been a slower stream, has seen a revitalization since the late hours of the nineteenth. On top of that, our fleet remains divided, with most of my contingent still on the Rouen-side. The asteroid shower has unexpectedly been picking up momentum, even more so during the battle itself. As our group fast-walks toward the bridge while the useless lackeys try to keep up with the pace, I am left to wonder if the Metropolitans are taking advantage of this window of opportunity. ¡°But even so¡­¡± I whisper wryly, rubbing my disfigured nose ridge ¡°even if they were advancing towards us¡­ why attack now? Who knows for sure just how long this ferocious asteroid stream could last. It would be too difficult for either of my fleets to slip through. For a force as huge as the Metropol, there¡¯s simply no way they could do it through brute force alone¡­ not for a second time,¡± not affording the moment to stop and pause, I merely pinch my rose ridge and grimace. These stupid subordinates and their constant whines make it impossible to think to myself! The bridge is in no better shape. As we enter, more groups of panicking chickens gawk at me, each vying for my guidance for the next course of action. But all it does is merely wear down what little composure I have. My headache intensifies, and my facial blemish aches with each passing second. No amount of rubbing could ever stem the pain. This whole situation I could otherwise handle, but the obnoxious rabble is just too overwhelming ¡ªtoo exhausting putting up with their continued whining. Olga must have taken notice because she wraps her only arm around me and does what she can to embrace me. ¡°Relax, Madame ¡­ I ¡¯d hate for you to pop a brain vessel,¡± she says soothingly. I let out a frustrated sigh and nod apologetically. ¡°As frustrating as it is, Madame, please endure the confusion for a little longer. I¡¯ll do what I can to stop the commotion, and I¡¯ll speak to the communication fellow to ensure that the rest of the fleet doesn¡¯t fall into a panic,¡± Olga says, running her hands through my silky raven hair. ¡°Much appreciated, Olga,¡± I grumble, rubbing my temples ¡°perhaps it¡¯s a simple miracle that Brutus made him useful by not contacting the Mathilda directly with this news. Frans has a lot on his hands already: if a panic-induced plague broke out there ¡­¡± I pause and turn to the enormous oaf, who looks a little uncomfortable with the stare. ¡°Brutus, you did make sure to put a gag on the radio operator not to trouble me with needless chaos, correct?¡± Brutus, like a poor helpless animal in the headlights, gives a nod of approval. ¡°Yes¡­ yes, Madame, of course,¡± Brutus quickly refutes ¡°the radar technicians¡­ erm, what were their names? Clyde and Bowen¡ªthey opened their big mouths first which is how it came to my attention in the first place. But with quick thinking, I silenced the radio operator from spreading anything needlessly¡­ so at his suggestion, I went to you in person,¡± Brutus clears his throat. ¡°Although I compliment you on making a good call¡­,¡± I trail off as we make our way down the stairs to the bottom levels of the bridge. There are already a few lackeys hawkishly hovering near the holographic map of the battlefield. My eyes gravitate towards the whole oddly-shaped blocks representing the asteroid storm and the unfortunate division of our fleet. On our side, in particular, most ships are moving around erratically. Though I remain unsure if it¡¯s just because of signal discrepancy or if ship captains are catching on that something isn¡¯t right in the Rouen corridor. ¡°Regardless of your decisiveness, Brutus, it¡¯s only a matter of time before the other captains catch on,¡± I pause to bury my head in my hands and release an exhausting sigh. ¡°The other ships may be well aware of the Federation movements by now, correct?¡± Olga asks from behind as the three of us make our way to the holographic map. The lackeys who were previously hypothesized by the developments come to their senses and give me salutes before scurrying off to give us privacy. ¡°And if that¡¯s the case, mounting a proper defense will be problematic if things continue to spiral out of control like this,¡± Brutus groans in response. It¡¯s words I don¡¯t want to hear, but Brutus is right for the most part. The longer we let this run rampant, the more difficulty I will face in keeping cohesion and morale up. ¡°Listen, you two,¡± I say, turning my attention to them briefly, both stiffen up and look straight. ¡°Despite what you offered earlier, Olga, I want you to instead focus efforts on reinstating discipline in the Castelforte. At least something to let me have a clear conscience. If I can¡¯t have even my men behaving appropriately, then it would leave a rather poor impression as far as flagships go. ¡°I can¡¯t afford to devote any more energy after exerting myself on the Taiga earlier,¡± I pause to stroke my neck as Olga gives her acknowledgment. After which I shift my gaze to the giant oaf, ¡°that said, Brutus, I would like for you to collaborate with the radio operator on reducing the fleet¡¯s anxiousness to a manageable level, to say the least. If neither of you has any objections, then I beg of you to hurry before we let our opportunity come to pass, ¡± when I finish, both of them give brief Mafia salutes and excuse themselves. Now that I¡¯ve found at least some semblance of solitude at the tactical map, I let out a grievous cough. I smoothly rub my scarred eyebrow in contempt as I turn around and pace around the blue-tinted holographic display. I should have known it would come to this. I believe I did what I could as damage control, but I know deep down that there was no way I could prepare for this. But even so ¡­ despite Brutus¡¯s efforts, I do not doubt panic will indeed spread like wildfire over these next crucial moments. But even putting aside the psychological aspect of a renewed Metropol attack, the biggest obstacle I face is the unusually intense meteor storm. What was once a crutch of sorts for us in the prior battle is now my single most hurdle. I don ¡¯t want to think much about it, but it¡¯s a hard-truth reality that I am essentially pinned down. Or to be more exact, our back is to the wall. Trying to slip back into it would be nothing less than suicide. As I bite down on my thumb, I can¡¯t help but believe that I may be at wit¡¯s end. Miss Victoria¡­ Jung¡­ if either of you were here, what would you do in this situation? I¡¯m stuck between a rock and a hard place. If we sit here, we will be massacred based on range alone ¡ªand if I am to assume the Metropolitans are now capable of ample resupply, then I cannot even hope to wait until their ammunition stores are depleted. Perhaps even believing that I could hold out through logistical attrition is a fantasy in itself. Foolish as I am, I did not think to resupply most of our fleet when the chance arose. My eyes race from our feeble ships on either side of the asteroid shower to the holographic depiction of the corridor, and then to the tiny but burgeoning Metropol ships¡ªslowly but surely¡ªreaching partway to the middle of the corridor. None of the ships have fired¡ªyet. Could it merely be a reconnaissance-in-force, perhaps? The lunatic idea of considering a preemptive strike arises, but I massage my cool cheeks to perish the thoughts. It¡¯s sheer foolishness that I can¡¯t help but get a renewed migraine contemplating over it. Taking the fight to the Metropolitans, would, of course, would be akin to accelerating the Mafia¡¯s death sentence. Any hope I have of achieving lasting peace would be obliterated if I crossed the point of no return and come off as invading Federation territory. Even if I am to assume that these less-than-stellar augmented squadrons are, at best, executing a rear-guard action, I can''t rule out the possibility that the Metropolitans are just as exhausted from the battle as we are. The tactical sinking of the allied supply division would under normal circumstances mean the armada¡¯s general state of affairs is even worse off than ours. Or at least that is what I am inclined to believe. Reconnaissance-in-force or not, the fact they have sent out only a considerable-sized force so soon makes me believe that this is a psychological attack rather than a practical one. And from the looks of things, it¡¯s more than effective. Rather the Metropolitans will realize this in time ¡ªand rather this is indeed their intention¡ªleaves me further suspended in disbelief. But even so, all things considered, there¡¯s no way the Metropolitans are intending to follow up with a general offense. Even if this ¡®reconnaissance¡¯ force is a precursor to something more formidable, the Metropolitans wouldn''t be capable of forcing their way through the merciless torrent without more adequate provisions and firepower. Or at least, not without risking heavy attrition. Even if they did bravely¡ªand stupidly¡ªcross the unrelenting meteor shower, they would merely be more susceptible to missile fire. In which case, it would be as Simon may say: a grand turkey shoot. The Metropolitan armada would merely be repeating the blunder they committed falling into Jung¡¯s perfect tactic, but perhaps they won¡¯t be as lucky this time. I graciously rub my temples, cutting a sigh in frustration. I should know better, of course. Time and again, incompetence has shown no bounds. Regardless of the Federation¡¯s intentions, the only logical choice I have ¡ªif I were to call it that¡ªis swiftly crossing the asteroid torrent ourselves. There will be ships lost, but compared to standing our ground and enduring this reconnaissance assault it will be minimal. On the other hand¡­ If I give up this side of the asteroid stream uncontested, it would, in a sense, give the Metropolitans breathing room. I would be powerless in preventing them from making gaps through the asteroid shower, would I not? As I examine the rapidness of the blocky and oddly shaped polygonal blocks zip down the middle of the map, I realize that it would be nearly impossible to maintain a skirmish line within the asteroid torrent. Even though most of our ships are nimble, simultaneously dodging the destructive firepower of Metropolitan missiles and the equally deadly bodies of rocks are simply out of the question. We either stand and fight divided, or we unite on one side of the stream but give up our only opportunity at denying the Metropol armada a bridgehead. As the polygonal Metropolitan force¡ªlikely representing four to six hundred ships¡ªslowly glides across the holographic map, I stop to reexamine our precarious situation. ¡°Even if I were to withdrawal to the other side,¡± I whisper offhandedly, slipping out the crimson bandanna to dab my forehead with. ¡°The Metropolitan fleet would still be forced to funnel themselves through tight choke-points¡­ it wouldn¡¯t be anything less than a stalemate. It would not be too far-fetched to assume that the Metropol fleet¡¯s size would work against them.¡± I step closer to the holographic display and brush my hand through the blue-tinted asteroid field. At that moment, tiny dots zip through the map, and I jerk my head to the windows. Orbs of light can be seen in the distance¡ªin some cases, these brief lights turn into fiery shades of orange. My eyes dart back to the holographic display. A good number of the Federation force is midway into the corridor with some stragglers beyond. Most do not seem to be in any combat formation, much less their typical firing lines. Is this the beginning of the skirmish, or was it perhaps trigger-happy gunners? Most of the Mafia contingent do what they can to maneuver into safety. Some of our ships fire in retaliation: but at this range, considering they are mostly half a light-year second away, it is futile. If this escalates into a skirmish, it would be no more than slight annoyances for either party. Both my and the approaching Metropol fleets have more than enough time predicting flight paths and maneuvering out of the way. At best, it would be a waste of precious munitions. For a brief moment, I break away from the tactical screen and hurry over to the communications console. As I approach Brutus from behind, he nearly turns around abruptly and flinches back in surprise. ¡°Good timing, Madame. I was just about to come to you to seek out our next course of action,¡± Brutus says, his eyes darting between me and the radio operator, ¡°it seems most ships lost contact with the Ngari¡ªwe can only assume it has been sunk with all hands. I did what I could to calm the fleet¡¯s nerves, but¡­¡± Brutus¡¯s eyes lower to the floor before looking past us at the windows. Following his gaze, several ships adjacent to us are at first cautiously advancing. Then, before long, almost all of them proceed to come to emergency stops before gradually reversing in momentum, or fanning out vertically in most directions. Occasionally some Mafia ships sporadically fire back at the aggressors, but none of it is concentrated. Turning my attention back to Brutus and the operator I begin to speak, ¡°the transponders¡­ have we been able to integrate them back onto most ships?¡± After the fighting ended, I had asked Darcy and Richter to oversee the task, but I have been busy keeping Olga company in the meantime and failed to keep it in mind. How shortsighted of me! The operator ponders the question for a moment as he glances nervously at Brutus, ¡°I¡­ I believe a portion of the decoy fleet were stripped of their transmitters¡­¡± he trails off, his eyes averting me. Once the realization sinks in, I sigh heavily and turn my back to the duo, stroking my agitated scar in the process. ¡°M-most of the fleet on the other side received priority¡­ but contacting them through this outpour is impossible!¡± I sigh with graveness. Of course it would, why would fate ever let me off so easily?! ¡°Darcy¡­ Richter, are either of them present on this side?¡± I ask, turning to shoot the man a glare. He stiffens up before loosening his collar. ¡°Captain Darcy is on this side¡­ the last time I sent any message to Richter, his ship was still anchored on the other side,¡± the operator replies earnestly. There is no helping it, had I had Richter instead¡ªor even both of them then I would have an easier time on the outcome. ¡°Very well¡­¡± I utter wryly before trailing off. My eyes wander to the large projector on screen at the moderately-sized force passing the center of the corridor, their artillery intensifying. ¡°Perhaps you can attempt to brute-force a signal through to Richter¡ªor even the Don and send reinforcements that way? ¡± Brutus asks openly, eyeing the two of us. ¡°You do intend to make a stand here, Madame?¡± I give a shake of my head. ¡°If all had gone better, I could easily commit more ships and saturate the enemy positions with concentrated fire. But the same could be said for the Feds, as well,¡± I remark stroking my blemished nose ridge ¡°but asking the captains across us to traverse through the deadly field would only produce needless attrition, it¡¯s far too suicidal. It¡¯s not practical. As for making a stand?¡± I exhale aggrievedly, ¡°I want any ships without transponders installed to turn around slip through the shower to rejoin friendly forces. That way, I can at least buy them time to get equipped with transponders¡­¡± the horrific look on Brutus¡¯s face is enough to make me pause. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°M-Madame¡­ that¡¯s more than half of what we have here!¡± Brutus stammers ¡°are you intending to withdrawal the Castelforte as well?¡± I shake my head no, ¡°Madame¡­!¡± ¡°The Castelforte is too big and fragile to navigate the velocity of the asteroid field,¡± I remark warmly, gripping my elbows, ¡°I intend to bide time for Richter to organize cone-shaped killing zones¡­ with that said. I¡¯ll permit some ships like the Mathilda to retreat¡­ perhaps even the Wulfhere as well. As for the men here, I¡¯ll have you and Olga evacuate anyone who doesn¡¯t wish to stay on the Castelforte onto another ship. There might be no telling if this is merely a probing attack or a precursor to a large-scale assault. But it is better safe than sorry.¡± ¡°While that might be true,¡± Brutus retorts, ¡°if we expose ourselves as too vulnerable, it might give them more reason to escalate the situation by committing more troops!¡± Brutus angrily takes another step forward, ¡°it¡¯s pointless to withdrawal firepower that we can utilize to cut down the Metropolitans as they enter our range! The corridor is cramped¡­ they would have very little in the way of maneuvering to avoid the slaughter!¡± I exhale softly and look Brutus in the eyes, ¡°communication is key, Brutus. If I have half a contingent under my control who¡¯s blind and deaf, even facing an enemy half our size would be difficult. If I faced overwhelming superiority, having even a fraction that has eyes and ears would still mean greater flexibility in communications and execution,¡± I slip out the crimson bandanna and gently wrap it around my hands, ¡°utilizing shuttles and wired communication is too risky¡­ I do not want to lose couriers like Carla, or Feliks, and Lena. If it comes to it,¡± I remark as my gaze drifts to the larger tactical screen, ¡°I will take as many down with me if the Metropolitans commit more ships. I will not give up the asteroid field without a fight, and Richter can finish what Emmanuel and Jung started, and force them to pay with their blood,¡± I turn my attention back to the radio operator and Brutus, who both look past me with perplex. ¡°That won¡¯t be necessary, Madame!¡± The voice of Olga reels me around, behind her is Clyde¡ªbut interestingly, Bowen is not with them. Squinting, I look past the duo to see Bowen standing over his console in deep contemplation. ¡°The Feddies are in all likelihood, not pursuing to commit anymore to the battle,¡± Clyde remarks, passing by Olga Bowen and I haven¡¯t determined the presence of any more signals approaching the Rouen corridor. Although it is just barely outside of our range, Bowen is inclined to believe that the rest of the Feddie armada is not joining the fray: from his hypothesis, he believes they are retreating in earnest.¡± Speechless, I take a step forward with sharp glances at the pondering Bowen, then at the map projector. Although there is now a thorough slugfest of sorts with the meager Federation vanguard, there is a distinct lack of reinforcements. I would imagine by now the main force would begin a concerted effort to join the fray. But there is no movement, not so much as a small stream of reinforcements. Though the Metropolitan force was up until now moving at a disjointed but quick pace, their haphazard assault has slowed to a crawl, if I had to estimate, most of the contingent is likely at a given distance of at least one-hundred kilometers. It may even seem they are holding their ground. At a closer glance, some of the polygonal Metropol squadrons are already reversing course. If the Metropolitans wanted to capitalize on this beachhead, I believe now would be the time, so then¡­ why? ¡°You are sure?¡± I ask after catching my breath, ¡°you waited all this time to tell me this now?!¡± I ask, rubbing my disfigured cheek intensely. I approach the radar technician, but Olga is quick to hold me by the shoulder with a concerning look. ¡°Bowen¡­ deliberated long and hard about the situation. He wanted to be confident in his calculations before he decided on relaying any information,¡± Clyde blinks as he puffs through his nose ¡°Bowen wants to believe that the ships pushing in are merely to serve as a diversion¡­¡± ¡°All the pretext for a rear-guard action, then?¡± Brutus muses, ¡°they want to deceive us into believing they are preparing for a large-scale assault¡­ but are in fact preparing for a complete withdrawal from even the Rouen region?¡± Brutus scoffs as Clyde gives a reluctant nod. ¡°I think Bowen¡¯s assumption is right,¡± Olga chimes in, she rubs my shoulder in assurance, ¡°it all comes together¡­ the destruction of the logistics fleet, the intensifying of the meteor shower, and an already costly battle where they conceded defeat¡­ don¡¯t you agree, Madame?¡± Olga asks with a sincere smile. I look up at the tactical map on the main bridge display and swallow my contemplations. By now, the firefight has subsided. The so-called reconnaissance-in-force has all but ceased firing and collectively reverses course in an orderly fashion. When I glance over at Bowen, he returns the gaze and gives me a silent but very enthusiastic two thumbs up. Before I realize it, my knees grow weak and I collapse to the floor. Olga, off-guard, worriedly kneels next to me and wraps her arm around me in an attempt to cradle me. I look into her marble-blue eyes and wonder to myself: could this finally be the end of our troubles? Before either of us can say anything, however, the operator grunts in surprise. ¡°Incoming visual feed from the Bratsk! ¡± The radio operator abruptly utters. Brutus glances over at me, expecting me to say something. But still reeling in from the revelation, Brutus sighs and instructs the operator to patch it through to the main screen. Reluctantly, and with a firm squeeze by Olga, I raise my eyes to the bridge monitor. A flow of strong feelings rushes through me. Though the visual feed suffers from low resolution given the distance and has apparent image artifacts, the evidence remains abundantly clear¡ªif there was any doubt before, such concern could finally be laid to rest. Beyond the planet of Dissenland, dozens¡ªhundreds¡ªof warp entry-points dot the cosmic seas. More open up as subsequent Federation ships prepare to jump. A marginal amount still assumes some form of defensive formations, however, but I pay them no serious attention. The fact of the matter is¡ªthe Federation armada has, at long last, kept its unspoken word and is leaving Toscana behind. As much as I wish for this fleeting moment to last a little longer, there is another subject matter on the visual display that I find increasingly concerning. Namely, vessels are emerging from warp exit-points that catch my eye. And the designs of them are peculiar ¡ªthey are not unlike the mammoth-sized supply ships that I¡¯ve come to know. At a glimpse, they seem unfamiliar. But there remains a nagging feeling that I have indeed seen it somewhere before. ¡°¡­Orbital constructors?!¡± The alarming voice of Brutus attests to my suspicion, ¡°I haven¡¯t seen those since¡ª¡° ¡°The Metropolitans laid the foundations of a space fortress in the lower Ruthenian region,¡± I add warmly ¡°to think they would be doing the same here¡­ I have long heard rumors of that fortress, Hsing-T''ien, causing some form of discord over its intensive development. But to think they are boldly constructing another one so soon¡­¡± ¡°The Federation is in no short supply of shortsightedness, Madame?¡± Olga adds, helping me back up. I can''t help but only respond with a chuckle. ¡°Not to mention they are leaving the constructors in a vulnerable situation while the majority of the armada departs the system. It¡¯s as if they learned nothing from my sortie!¡± ¡°I imagine they are inclined to believe I would not do something so suicidal,¡± I remark. Olga¡¯s expression changes to puzzlement. ¡°It would accomplish nothing other than to serve as an inconvenience to them. All it would accomplish is undo everything that we¡¯ve worked hard to achieve ¡ªit would mark Jung¡¯s death and those that perished meaninglessly. I would hardly call it even a short-term tactical feat. It would serve nothing less than to facilitate our downfall and obliterate any attempts at future negotiations.¡± ¡°Right,¡± Olga mutters, her gaze drops to the floor ¡°I¡¯m no less a hypocrite, aren¡¯t I?¡± I let out a heartfelt scoff and head-pat Olga, who moments before looked bothered but peeks a smirk. ¡°Do not be so hard on yourself, Olga,¡± I say warmly, ¡°it¡¯s a genuine decision that any ambitious-minded lieutenant would make. After all, the Federation is still the bigger fools here. I¡¯m baffled they would leave behind such a small garrison fleet to defend the construction of a potential orbital fortress. They are erroneous fools for hinging on a flimsy possibility that I won¡¯t launch a pre-emptive strike.¡± ¡°But the construction of a space fortress at Rouen means that the Feddies will have a permanent military presence¡­ and a permanent threat of a punitive expedition, will it not? Would it not be best to snip it in the bud, and strike when the armada leaves?¡± Brutus pauses after glancing at all of us ¡°we can use the foundations of the fortress as a bargaining chip as our chance at survival, Madame!¡± I believe it has some merit, but the risk far outweighs the strategic benefits. It¡¯s simply far too out of my expertise to consider. With a heavy sigh, I brush my disfiguring sigh with great contemplation. If only Jung Lee was still alive ¡­ if only Simon or even that miss Victoria were here, what would they do? Even if I operate on the assumption that the reconnaissance-in-force contingent and the other, smaller detachment will remain behind as the fortress¡¯s permanent garrison, there¡¯s no telling what the Metropol or even the colonials will do in retaliation if such an event were to take place. The taking of this potential fortress could very well cement our defenses against Merican and even Ruthenian prospects. At worse, it might plant future ambitions in the Don¡¯s¡ªor even Che¡¯s head if he is to succeed him one day. I shudder at the thought of a renewed interest in reclaiming our criminal empire in the southern portion of the galaxy. And even if we were to lose the fortress, the strategic corridor would be more than enough to make any colonial or Metropol venture extremely costly. But if the Metropolitans were to venture from the Frankish Domains¡ªor god forbid authorize the dormant Realm to have a naval militia of their own¡ªthen the Mafia is doomed no matter what. Before I can turn to address Brutus, the radio operator jumps at his console and hurriedly turns to speak to us. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ receiving an encrypted relayed message from a Federation source!¡± He exclaims with bulging eyes ¡°it was sent to a Federation ship in the contingent we engaged¡­¡± he turns to his console briefly as if to confirm something, ¡°¡­it¡¯s apparently a personal message from the Trinidad¡ªfrom the admiral himself¡­ to you, Madame, ¡±he says, rather full of uncertainty. Indeed, there is a silence among the group, as all attention falls on me. ¡°A message?¡± Olga inquires, ¡°not a video transmission¡­ er, not verbally, a mere message?¡± The radio operator is silent for a moment before he nods. ¡°If you have a way of printing it out, I will read it for myself,¡± I respond. Without further ado, the operator proceeds with printing out a slip of paper from the console and then hands it over to me. With a deep breath, I try to brush on my Anglish and read the fine slip of paper.
TO THE ONE THEY CALL THE MADAME SCARFACE¡ªTHE LI CHOU OF THE YEAR 217 MAFIA How I wish I could have the pleasantries of meeting face-to-face with the one who has bested me at the battlefields of Abassi all these years ago. I have yearned for the day I could confront you in the hopes of redeeming my honor of losing to a woman more than double my junior. I imagine you are as beautiful as they say, and your voice alone is charming as you are a fiercely tactful officer.
I cannot help but force a scoff. The others look at me intrigued, but none dare try to peek over my shoulder and instead give me privacy. I almost want to toss the message aside, but I force myself to continue with the reading.
Perhaps it was destiny that allowed us to confront each other once again. The odds were in my favor, and I was confident of defeating not only the fearsome Wulf der Ruthenia but the Madame Scarface as well¡ªin one fell swift swoop. Alas, I am forced to concede that I have been bested in combat once again. Against strong opposition of my general staff, I have decided against a renewed offense despite the overwhelming superiority that I still weld. Moreover, your annihilation of my provisional auxiliaries on top of your unyielding conviction would make any further conflict pointless and would serve no further benefit to either of us. As such, I will yield if only because of honor and respect for you and the Wulf der Ruthenia. For that matter, I wish to wholeheartedly congratulate you on your victory. In recognition of your feats, and of your merciful attitude during the ending phase of the battle, I will, as a sign of equal goodwill, suspend the operation to seduce Toscana indefinitely. But heed my warning: there will come a day when the Mafia will be brought to its knees, and its leaders tried and executed for crimes against humanity¡ªagainst the Federation. I pray for your continued good health until that day comes to fruition. Admiral of the Metropolitan Navy, RAMSAY deRYCK
I look up from the letter to the twinkling lights in the vast cosmic seas. Rolling up the piece of paper, I slip it into a pocket and stroke my disfigured cheek. ¡°Madame?¡± Olga asks ¡°what did the Trinidad admiral have to say?¡± ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, to my continued good health and a warning of the day the Federation will invade one day¡­ someday,¡± I remark, reaching inside my poncho to stroke Julius¡¯s bandanna, ¡°I¡¯m sure now that making any moves on the fortress would disrupt this fragile peace we¡¯ve established. I have trust in the admiral¡ªjust as he has trust in me.¡± At those words, Brutus bows with a nod, muttering that he understands. ¡°Just a second, Madame,¡± the radio operator says suddenly ¡°I¡¯ve managed to intercept a transmission from the Trinidad to the ships returning to Dissenland: ¡®prepare to form a defensive line around the Hatillo¡¯s fabricator ships. Squadrons four to seven will retire to Cluster Island Two until further orders¡­¡¯¡± ¡°The Hatillo, huh?¡± I muse ¡°that must be the name they assigned to the new fortress¡­ I see.¡± ¡°What are we to do now, Madame? If not preemptively attacking this so-called Hatillo,¡± Brutus asks. I let out an unprovoked yawn, quickly cupping my mouth in embarrassment. I also realize my neck and shoulders have been aching this entire time. ¡°I believe that until the meteor shower slows down, I will permit the fleet some much-deserved rest. Then we will join Richter¡¯s fleet and I will, with the Don¡¯s permission, permit the fleet to disperse,¡± the group looks at me dumbfounded: baffled, even. ¡°Rest assured, the Federation has no intention of attacking anytime soon. As far as I¡¯m concerned, this battle is over.¡± ¡°And where shall we go from here, then?¡± Brutus asks. I roll my eyes, wondering why he asks such banal questions at times like this. Olga picks up on it and smirks at the puzzled oaf. ¡°Where else? To Brunsb¨¹ttel, of course,¡± I remark wryly with a pained grin. Olga chuckles softly, prompting Brutus to sag his shoulders in defeat before joining in on the chuckling. With the external threat now eliminated, I can at least enjoy a moment of much-deserved peace. But I know it can''t last forever. Unbeknown to the others, I still have one outlying fear that awaits me on the home Side: that of Kamon Hwang. Time will tell, I suppose, of what awaits my fate there. Chapter 80: Toscana Requiem | The Old Badger鈥檚 Worries
AUGUST 22ND, 220
SOMEWHERE IN THE CENTRAL BLOCK OF SIDE BRUNSB¨¹TTEL
Simon has been restless. These last few days have been the most taxing on his health since, well, forever. Ever since Li¡¯s first departure from the Brunsb¨¹ttel on the fifteenth, Simon has been on continuous edge about both the Mafia fleet survival and Li ¡¯s wellbeing. Simon would even so much as say he has tormented himself obsessively worrying about her. And not just Li, but Jung and Zhui as well. All of them matter in some way to the aging man, and if anything were to happen to any of them¡ªhe would be devastated. If anything happened to Li, most importantly, Simon would be utterly devastated if even so much as a scratch was inflicted on her. Jung once reminded Simon of how he reacted to Li¡¯s near-death after getting her face split-open by Zhui. The resurfacing thoughts pain Simon. Those long weeks and months by Li¡¯s bedside, blazing through obscene amounts of cigarette packages like they were nothing more than water. The nurses used to scold him for smoking in Li¡¯s presence, and often tried to force him out when he habitually lit up more cigarettes. But Simon didn¡¯t care. Jung was right on the mark about him: smoking really is the only way Simon copes with stress. At the time, the old badger was far too gone drowning in his thoughts, wondering if the maiden¡¯s wound will ever heal and if it will permanently incapacitate his beloved Li in some way. Thinking back on it now, Simon would even go as far as to say that he has smoked more in that time frame than he ever has before or since. Even when Li woke up from her coma, the first thing she muttered to Simon was, ¡°are you trying to suffocate me to death with this dreadful toxin, Simon?¡± Old and stoic as he is, Simon still fondly remembers how emotionally stricken he was at her awakening. ¡°This happened because I was worried sick about you, you fool,¡± Simon remembers saying. He still fondly recalls that petite smirk of hers and the pained eyes she made in an attempt to scoff at Simon¡¯s tasteless humor. For some reason or another, that particular moment feels like the first time Simon has seen Li ever actually smile. And what Simon would do to be able to see her face again¡ªif only because he desires to know she is okay. If only to give him some reassurance¡ªto let him be at ease and not, out of habit, enjoy these fleeting moments of reassurance from the poisonous toxins that he inhales. It¡¯s been half a week since he received confirmation that the threat in the Valspon star-zone was eliminated. But it was passed onto him from a Castelforte subordinate and not from Li, and that pains him. Even when Li¡¯s fleet emerged over Brunsb¨¹ttel¡¯s Clusters, she still didn''t talk to him, and that pains Simon even more. But he knows this is for the best. Simon does not doubt the possibility of Kamon listening in on any transmissions sent to or from the Brunsb ¨¹ttel. Li likely is aware of this, too, and has probably refrained from contacting Simon correctly. Subconsciously, Simon shifts his gaze around the plaza he loiters in while waiting for his car ride. Though he warned Li that their meeting will eventually reach Kamon¡¯s ears, it was more of a warning to himself of how the older madame will see him. Not even partly a day after Simon met Li, Simon retreated to his home retreat and found himself under light surveillance. But since the nineteenth, Simon noticed that most of what he likened as Kamon¡¯s goons must¡¯ve been called off. Or perhaps he is imagining things due to paranoia? In any case, and against his better wishes, Simon decided on staying at Zhui¡¯s palace residence instead, together with his eccentric stooges if only to stave off the loneliness. The decision to reside at the huge palace is also out of convenience of shortening the distance to the communications station, and thus saving on fuel. Today, in particular, Simon is returning from his second checkup to the communications array. But rather than wait around for his chauffeur, Simon instead arduously ventures to the district center by foot to stake out a hotel to stay at. But the search comes up fruitless¡ªand learning from his mistake last time he doesn''t want to invoke his authority to stay. Similarly, and because of his smoking habit, he wishes to avoid another comedic episode of his stooges barging into his room and activating sprinklers, again. After dwelling on the matter, Simon does take the chance at going back to the original hotel he stayed at before the uneventful news of Che¡¯s situation at Valspon. But upon realizing there were at least two agents¡ªlikely Kamon¡¯s¡ªloitering in the lobby, Simon immediately figures that his welcome is long overstayed regardless. Before the hotel service or even the men Simon views as Kamon¡¯s men take notice, Simon reels around and head-tails out of there. An hour or so would pass as Simon makes his way a few blocks away, hoping that his possible pursuers are lost. Eventually, he reached the central plaza park. Here, after observing his surroundings for another hour or so. After making sure that the coast is largely clear, Simon phones his chauffeur¡ªone of the stooges¡ªand instructs him to pick him up at Simon ¡¯s new location. ¡°What a miserable day,¡± Simon mutters as he leans against the brick wall. The public square is unusually quiet other than a group of kids across the street enjoying their youth at an industrial playground. What constitutes a ¡®playground¡¯ is more of a water tower ¡¯s chassis with lots of rope ladders and a few tubes coming out of it, which Simon believes act as bonafide slides. There are a few more modular installations on the ¡®playground¡¯, but that seems to be the main attraction. Overall, Simon can''t help but find the architecture depressing. But it seems like a far cry from his childhood where at most he had large squarish cubes with cobwebs of robes in their interior. Simon is at least relieved these kids can enjoy themselves¡­ but for some reason or another, it reminds him of Li as a child, and his old heartaches badly at the constant reminder of the proper life he has denied her. Sometimes, he reflects on his younger self, and the conversation he had with Jung a few days ago. Perhaps if Simon had a tougher resolve in his earlier years, he could¡¯ve done what was best for the two of them and put their piracy life¡ªhis piracy life¡ªbehind him for the young Li¡¯s sake. Or perhaps it¡¯s because of his iron resolve that he stubbornly resisted the idea of breaking his blood-oath with Zhui that Simon found himself unwilling to turn his back on everything, for the little Li¡¯s sake¡­? As Simon dwells in his thoughts, he finds himself increasingly exhausted from the trekking he undertook earlier. His long, old feeble legs cry out with a burning sensation. Simon subconsciously bends his knees slightly, provoking mild grunts from the old badger. All the while, Simon scans the plaza for any place to relax and discovers a dirt-brown wooden bench just outside the perimeter of the industrial playground, next to a Toscani sign that he can''t quite read. He looks both ways across the street both dragging his feet with continuous grunts and practically crashes down on it, slumping back in a mix of a moment of fleeting bliss. It puts me out in the open, Simon ponders as he lifts his head to glance behind at kids enjoying youth for what it ¡¯s worth, but at least my legs won''t be as sore. Simon cuts loose a frustrated sigh, and just as he reaches into his breast pocket to pull out a cigarette carton, he takes notice of a dark-blue car cruising down the road before coming to a stop in front of Simon. At first, Simon straightens up and looks around frantically, but relaxes thereafter when he remembers that the car is unmistakably his. Maybe I am acting too paranoid for my own good? Simon ponders as the engine¡¯s whining winds down and is cut off. Through the passenger window, Simon observes intently as the silhouette reaches over onto the passenger-side and rolls down the dark-tinted windows. The driver peaks his dark bowl-cut head out and gives a toothy grin. The man is Rocco, one of Simon ¡¯s three stooges. Rocco in particular is more or less the wise-guy leader of the three. ¡°Little late, aren¡¯t I?¡± Rocco remarks nonchalantly. But before Simon can reply Rocco already sticks his head back in¡ªbut peaks out with a more serious frown. ¡°Boss? What the hell do you think you were about to do?¡± Simon, being old, groggy, and baffled at the way Rocco is addressing him, nearly stands up tensely. ¡°You have some guts to be talking to me that way, Rocco,¡± Simon retorts. Quite uncharacteristic for the man, too! Simon adds. Rocco, undeterred, points sternly at the sign residing next to the sign. ¡°I thought better of you, boss! You simply couldn¡¯t wait until you got in your car, couldn¡¯t you?¡± Rocco scoffs. Simon, confused, glances at the sign and tries to rack his brain for his brush-up on Toscani. Frankly, he never took the liberty of learning the language, He always had locality-hired subordinates who were fluent in both languages do all the busywork for him, though, if he was compelled to do any in the first place. ¡°Boss, really? It says no smoking. I think you must be getting too senile for your own good,¡± Rocco says pointing sharply at the kids on the playground. Simon slaps himself on the face. Some of the parents¡ªnamely the mothers¡ªat the far end of the park gave him evil, death-piercing glares, and Simon finds it uncomfortably unsettling. With a forceful sigh, he shoves the pack of cigarettes back into his breast pocket and attempts to open one of the rear passenger doors, but Rocco stops him. ¡°What is it now, Rocco?¡± Simon impatiently asks. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ uh, it¡¯s a mess back there,¡± Rocco replies apologetically, ¡°I haven¡¯t been able to clean out the car just yet. It kinda stinks, too, so, uh¡­¡± Rocco trails off with a forced grin. Simon again slaps himself on the face with a tiring sigh. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me¡­,¡± Simon begins ¡°you forgot to clean out the cigarette mess, still?!¡± The look on Rocco¡¯s face is all the answer Simon needs. To this day, Simon still does not understand how or why he employed these three to be his direct subordinates. Simon only happened to cross paths with the lot, and they took up their jobs with great enthusiasm. ¡°I was getting round to it, eventually¡­¡± Rocco says, unconvincingly, but still beaming that idiotic smile. ¡°You didn¡¯t get either Mark or Rami to do it?!¡± Simon says, trying not to sputter his words. Mark and Rami were the other two members of the proclaimed three stooges. Both are equally as stupid, and it¡¯s usually Rocco who puts them in their place. Sometimes Simon is terrified of not having Rocco shepherding the other two at any given time, since who knows what kind of trouble they will get into. ¡°I, uh¡­¡± Rocco, scratches his bowl-cut hair, ¡°I couldn¡¯t get in contact with them¡­ or rather, neither were willing to answer back. I think they were in the first block pub-hopping,¡± Rocco states quickly. Simon can only afford to roll his eyes. ¡°I guess it can¡¯t be helped,¡± Simon exhaustively sighs. Rocco shifts into his driver¡¯s seat so that Simon can open the door and get inside. Immediately Simon is greeted by the collective putridness of the two comically sized mountains of cigarette butts that nearly spill over into the car¡¯s middle compartment. Simon finds it absolutely disgusting, but at the end of the day, it is his excessive warning about Li over the last few days that has led to this. A snowball effect, if there ever was one. ¡°Are we heading to the palace, boss?¡± Rocco asks, starting up the engine, ¡°or we heading back to your retreat in the rear block?¡± Simon deliberates on the question for a while. Frankly, with the seemingly increase in surveillance again, I want somewhere nice and quiet where Kamon¡¯s men are less likely to look, Simon ponders as Rocco slowly cruises through the plaza. The retreat is probably swarming with her men by now. And the palace, likewise is bound to already have men staking it out, but who knows? I could always search for another hotel, but Kamon will eventually find me somehow. Simon blows a sigh and lowers the window to air out the suffocating car. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°We¡¯ll just head to the palace. You¡¯re already en route to it anyway. No use in wasting anymore fuel,¡± Simon says pinching his nose ridge. ¡°By the way, Rocco¡­ this might seem out of nowhere, but you weren¡¯t followed, were you?¡± Rocco, along with the other three stooges has more or less been left in the dark about Li¡¯s encounter. When Li came to the Brunsb ¨¹ttel, he had the three of them sent away so that they could play their part of being dumb, so to speak. The less they know of Li¡¯s abortive attempt at a coup, the better. Although Simon is always harsh on them, he still cares for them in the end. They don¡¯t deserve to be punished just because they are in Simon¡¯s camp. Similarly, none of Simon¡¯s subordinates deserve any needless punishment. ¡°Hmmm¡­ don¡¯t think so. What brings this about?¡± Rocco asks. Simon almost feels too sorry for his innocence, but refrains from confessing too much that might endanger the men. So far, Kamon has shown she has been benevolent towards members of the Mafia. But now that Li has thrown the die, there¡¯s no telling what sort of contingency plan she has in store for any of them. ¡°Boss?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± Simon answers, ¡°if nobody has approached you or confronted you about anything, then forget I asked¡­ while you¡¯re at it, contact Mark and Rami instead,¡± Rocco glances at Simon curiously as he continues ¡°only when you get the chance I mean.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve been acting weird ever since the little one left the harbor, boss,¡± Rocco remarks, putting the car on autopilot briefly to use the car¡¯s radio communication. For a moment, Simon has a cast of doubt: would it be too unreasonable to assume Kamon could intercept a call like this, too? Simon shakes his head, no, that would be borderline paranoia: I¡¯m better than that. Simon suppresses his urge to stop Rocco, and eventually, Mark and Rami do pick up the call and oblige to Simon''s order. In the background, there is a lot of overlapping talking and roars of laughter, at least confirming that the two are safe and sound in some pub somewhere. The rest of the car ride is in silence. Simon tries to keep a pleasant state of mind by observing the passing flower beds and iron-casted walls that encompass the enormous grounds of the Don¡¯s palace. And yet for all its beauty, Simon still can¡¯t help but find the palace itself too big for its own good. It just evokes a sense of loneliness¡ªa feeling he cannot escape when he¡¯s here. Maybe turning back to the retreat wouldn¡¯t be such a bad idea after all. Back when Simon first settled in Brunsb ¨¹ttel, he was elated to have a residence that was the size of a castle. And for all intents and purposes, it is a palace of incredible grandeur. Back in the times of Terra¡¯s ancient history, democratic heads of states fancied themselves elaborate mansions such as this. Simon likens that such architecture and lavishness invokes a vibe of said ministers being not-so-democratic dictators living in their so-called presidential palaces. And continuing on the tradition, most of the democratically-elected governors of Toscana have called this their home. Most¡ªaccording to what Kamon offhandedly told him¡ªwith their families and some cabinet members. The wing buildings were vast enough, built and expanded upon at taxpayers ¡¯ expense to house half a battalion¡¯s worth of soldiers and still have enough privacy. Historically, this palace also served as the headquarters for the governorship¡¯s so-called republican guard. When Kamon handed over control to Zhui, Kamon once warned them of a possible insurrection by die-hard Federalists who intended to use the stronghold as a redoubt against the pirates. Ultimately, however, the Brunsb¨¹ttel people wished to avoid needless conflict, resulting in the bloodless acceptance of pirate rule and the declaration of the pirate republic. Most of the republican guard''s radical members either disappeared, were granted amnesty, or were simply executed. The rest of the republican core rank-and-file were absorbed without issue into Zhui and Li¡¯s elite guard. Interestingly, though, Kamon offhandedly remarked she never liked the place too much and stated she did not reside there during her de-facto incumbency as Toscana governor. Even since she surrendered Toscana to Zhui, she has always lived in a much smaller residence not far from her agency¡¯s compound. Originally, Kamon offered the palace to Simon out of a sign of goodwill. But Simon refused at the time and opted to live in a more hermit place at the far-end of Brunsb¨¹ttel leaving the palace in Zhui ¡¯s hands instead. But after a rather unfortunate mountainside accident occurred, Simon decided to move into one of the vacant palace wings. Simon also expected Li to reside with him and the rest of the Dong family, but she and Olga decidedly jumped at the opportunity to seize a palace retreat nestled in the mountainous block. There many of the Castelforte crew members called the surrounding area their home as well. Simon similarly took up a residence of his own in the area, but he seldom used it except to visit Li every now and then. As Simon dwells in his thoughts some more, Rocca passes the open gateway and rolls up into the vast circular driveway, before coming to a stop. ¡°You want something to eat, boss?¡± Rocca asks, making his way towards the entrance of the mansion, ¡°personally, I¡¯m starving. I was thinking of some hot soups.¡± ¡°Well, it¡¯s not like you or the others know how to cook anything else,¡± Simon remarks dryly ¡°but be my guess. I haven¡¯t eaten anything since yesterday or so,¡± truth is, Simon has had little appetite for anything lately. He has eaten very little, like fruits or energy bars, to keep himself content. Maybe Li and Jung were right and he should cut back on the cigarettes after all. But if it were not for smoking, then how else can he keep his stress levels low? ¡°That kinda hurts, boss,¡± Rocca says, with a chuckle, ¡°but I¡¯ll whip you up a bowl as well. Won¡¯t be long, since I¡¯ll just be microwaving some cans,¡± and off Rocca go. Simon cuts loose a sigh, and proceeds to fumble into his pocket for the cigarettes¡ªbut then pauses. Just a few meters away at the palace¡¯s entrance, a muscular man emerges from the outside. He is dressed in a black-brown uniform, with a tilted hat that obscures his vision. But even from where Simon stands, he can make out disfiguring scars on his otherwise clean-shaved face. The uninvited guest glances around Simon before briefly exchanging eye contact with Simon. Simon takes a deep breath, figuring the suited man would approach him. Instead, the man takes a few sidesteps and another person slips into view. And at that moment, Simon exhales timidly. A rather slim woman with a cloak over her shoulders. Pearly skin, piercing golden eyes, and heavy purplish eye-bags indicating a lack of sleep. That short unkempt graying hair. A single gold earring on her right ear, and a long thin pipe hangs from her bemused lips. She is escorted by two similarly muscular men, who are similarly scarred and have shaved heads. All of them with black umbrellas, one of them holds it for the woman in question. A shiver down Simon¡¯s spine. Simon has never once feared civilians before. Why would he? Civilians were always terrified of him¡ªonce they became aware of who he is and who he is affiliated with. But there is one person who dares to defy all expectations. In a way, this woman is the female equivalent of Dong Zhui: the one person that Simon would never dare to double-cross¡ªthe one person that Li did dare to defy if it meant saving face in the face of Federation invasion. She remains as imposing in name as she is in presence. Beleaguered, Simon slips the cigarette box away. ¡°Madame Hwang!¡± Simon calls out, and rather than the traditional Mafia salute, bows as low as he can. ¡°It is quite the surprise to see you go out of your way to pay a visit to little ol¡¯ me! Had I been notified of your arrival earlier, I would¡¯ve prepared a better welcoming¡­¡± No response. Unsure if he should peek or not, Simon keeps his head low despite the screaming protests from his back and neck. He hears Kamon murmur something, and then what follows are numerous shuffles indicating the troupe is moving away, at least. Despite Simon ¡¯s pained back, he maintains his awkward bow even as he hears a pair of heels approaching. Even as the madame¡¯s shadow creeps by¡ªSimon maintains his bow. Soon enough Kamon stands adjacent to Simon, but the old badger maintains his bow. Not so much of an exchange of words. Simon clears his throat and tries his best not to look at Kamon. But regardless, Simon takes a few peeks at Kamon. She only faces Simon partway, and pays no actual attention to Simon, much less meet his gaze. Rather, Kamon takes an extensive puff from her pipe and slowly breezes a hazy cloud of toxin from her lips. ¡°Simon¡­¡± Kamon finally utters. Another long pause as she tucks the pipe between her bluish lips, ¡°you may rescind that uncultured bow, now,¡± she says in a rather monotonous tone. Instinctively, Simon straightens up without a word. He promptly massages his pained neck and keeps his eyes trained straight at the entrance gates, where one man calmly patrols between the gates. Unable to handle this tense silence any longer, Simon breaks the ice first, ¡°one of my men is preparing some quick, er, food for us. If you have a moment to spare, I''ll gladly have him whip up some more¡ª¡° ¡°¡¯Ey boss,¡± Rocca calls out from the doorway, ¡°where on earth is the¡ª,¡± Simon looks back at the shocked Rocca wearing mittens and carrying a large pot. Rocca¡¯s bulging eyes shift from the men at the driveway, to Simon and Kamon, but Rocca doesn¡¯t say another word. It¡¯s a good thing he didn¡¯t drop it at least, Simon thinks, else it¡¯d make for a far uglier scene. ¡°Er¡­ right, yeah,¡± Rocca says recovering ¡°I¡¯ll just, uh, I¡¯ll sit this out and keep the food warmed for later.¡± Rocca doesn¡¯t wait around for any response and leaves as fast as the hot pot can permit. ¡°An enticing invitation,¡± Kamon says in that monotonous tone of hers, ¡°but unfortunately for you, my Simon, I have matters to attend to. And that means I will not be present when the fleet arrives shortly,¡± Kamon takes a moment for an extended puff from her pipe, ¡°so I ask you to relay this message once your beloved Chou arrives. ¡®From one madame to another: congratulations on your victories,¡¯¡± Kamon states dryly. She huffs a larger hazy-purple cloud than before, all the while making no attempts at meeting Simon¡¯s gaze. Without giving Simon so much of a reaction, she does an about-face and heads back toward her men without another word. The realization of Kamon¡¯s words settles in. ¡°Li¡­ Li is alive?¡± Simon asks, nearly speechless. But he receives no answer, and Kamon and her entourage are gone from the scene before he even knows it. It¡¯s almost like in the blink of an eye, this bizarre meeting never happened: but it certainly did. How is she so certain of this? Simon panicky wonders. Have Li and I underestimated Kamon? Could there have Kamon-aligned agents planted in the fleet? Terrifying thoughts continue to race through Simon¡¯s head. Frankly, it does not occur to Simon that Kamon could have enormous influence over the Mafia fleet until, a fact that sends another shiver down his spine. There could be no other possible explanation if Kamon has active intelligence on Li¡¯s whereabouts at any given time. But even so¡­ what was the purpose of Kamon¡¯s meeting him here? Is Simon suppose to take this as a threat, or is there some other motive Kamon has in mind? Simon reels around and heads inside the palace. ¡°Rocca! Rocca, forget about the dinner for now. We¡¯ll do it later¡ªget us to the harbor, as soon as you can!¡± Never before has Simon been so scared of the future than now. For the first time, Simon is terrified of what the unpredictable Kamon can do. Not only for himself, but for Li as well. [author] Original Royalroad disclaimer I get a little uncomfortable when writing actions like smoking or drinking. The stuff that happens in this fiction does not reflect my views, and I don''t condone the use of such substances to deal with stress and etc.[/author] Chapter 81: Toscana Requiem | Hesitance
SOMETIME LATER, IN THE CASTELFORTE
¡°How much closer until we enter the Cluster¡¯s gravitational field?¡± I ask the navigator, tapping my arms. The man leans back in his chair, his head tilting back. He closes his eyes briefly before cocking his head to glance at me. ¡°Isn¡¯t that something more up Bowen and that other feller¡¯s expertise?¡± He asks wryly. I force a smile, wincing at the aching pain stemming from my facial scar. He almost immediately sits straight in his chair and scoffs. ¡°I¡¯m not particularly in the mood right now for tasteless insubordination,¡± I say warmly, relaxing my facial muscles as I finish. ¡°Right, right, sorry, erm¡­¡± the navigator fumbles in his seat. He shoots a side-glance across the bridge room over at the duo paying no attention to us¡ªbefore he continues. ¡°I¡¯d say we¡¯re about an hour away before I can align along the Brunsb¨¹ttel¡¯s runaway,¡± the navigator pauses, as if having more in his mind. He rubs his stubby chin and gives me a curious look, ¡°unless, do you wish for me to position the ship so you can embark quicker on a shuttle? I can do that too if you want. It would be a lot less hassle,¡± the navigator finishes with a side peek at his controls. ¡°No, no,¡± I answer, caressing my disfigured cheek, ¡°I don¡¯t believe it will be necessary. I do want you to sail into the Brunsb¨¹ttel¡¯s harbor as usual, however¡­¡± I trail off, wincing. ¡°However?¡± The navigator asks. But without another word, my gaze wanders off to the map projection. By now, I would say most of our fleet numbers may be less than three hundred by this point. True to my word, and with the Don¡¯s mildly reluctant blessing, most of the fleet did indeed dissipate as soon as the situation with the Rouen meteor shower subsided. Among the ship indicators on the main overlay, the Wulfhere, in particular, is beginning its descent into Lubeck¡¯s orbit. After the shower ended, it was more or less the first to break off ahead of the fleet, and it has not so much as sent or received shuttles from the others, much less any attempts at communication. And as far as I¡¯m concerned, Simon still does not know of Jung¡¯s fate. Biting down on my thumb, I remain unsure of how to break the news to him. I cannot rely on anyone else to deliver the bad news¡­ aside from perhaps the dreadful man I call father. ¡°The Montepuez,¡± I begin ¡°where is it? If I remember correctly, it should be behind us¡­ I think it is being led by the Shiva, is it not?¡± I ask, my eyes still concentrated on the strategic map. Opposite of our formation is a stream of Mafia stragglers from Valspon¡ªwhat I liken as ships that did not join our detachment and didn¡¯t have the time to join us during or after the battle with Miss Happ¡¯s fleet. Squinting hard enough, there are some identification codes I don¡¯t recognize as belonging to ours, captured Federation ships, I wonder? That could also have some implications, I suppose. ¡°That¡¯s correct,¡± the navigator confirms after a few moments of confirming with his console, ¡°though, I don¡¯t know why you don¡¯t just ask Bowen and¡ª¡° ¡°That aside,¡± I interject, repositioning my arms under my breasts, ¡°slow down and let the Montepuez pass us. Signal for the Shiva to also overtake us and let them gain entry into the harbor, as well,¡± I finish calmly, but quickly frown. ¡°No, wait¡­, ¡°would that be a good idea? If my father is still skeptical of my conductance here, would he forget his promise to let me go freely? If I let him and Beatrice dock first¡­ I tap my forehead, grimacing at the slight tinge. What is wrong with me? I have figured I would have put all my doubt behind on the Montepuez. I have no reason to doubt the man¡­ right? Would he merely go as far as to put on an act in front of the others, and have his die-hard loyalists arrest me when the time is right? Would Simon even allow such a thing to happen? Shaking my head and turning away from the navigator, I rub my throbbing head. ¡°Maybe I should dock first so that I can talk things over with Simon?¡± I muse to myself, stroking my chin ¡°Simon is bound to be there, waiting for me and the Don to arrive, would he not?¡± I clear my throat, recalling what Simon told me of the unpredictability of Kamon, ¡°she wouldn¡¯t touch¡­ torture him, would she?¡± I ask pacing towards the concerned navigator. Naturally, he has no idea of what I¡¯m even talking about. Very few, other than Olga, Sergi, and the tight-lipped personal guard do. And it is better that way, lest¡­ ¡°¡­No,¡± I mutter, ¡°if Kamon wanted to get rid of me, she would have various opportunities to do so. I wouldn¡¯t put it past her to have loyalists even among the men on the Castelforte¡­ even men aboard the other ships, like Sergi¡¯s, would she not?¡± I question myself, amid the navigator trying to no avail to gain my attention. In the end, his gaze darts around, unsure how to comprehend or deal with his superior suddenly losing her mind. ¡°If Kamon had confirmation that the Metropol threat is eliminated, she would see no more need for me¡­ and yet nothing has happened. Am I simply over-thinking my situation¡­?¡± As my muse trails off, I glimpse the navigator looking past me briefly before he cuts a sigh and turns away to work at his console. The next moment, a hand rests on my shoulder¡ªand then another, a more hardy, metallic touch. Instinctively I reach for the second one, and reel around to find a concerned Olga. ¡°It¡¯d be an understatement to say you look out of it, Madame,¡± Olga states, she glances at the confused navigator who¡¯s trying not to selectively eavesdrop. Cutting loose a sigh, I gesture for Olga and I to walk out of earshot out of any other bridge crew. When it¡¯s clear the two of us are mostly alone, I force out another utterance and grab Olga¡¯s artificial arm. Its slightly shiny, and at a closer inspection it is obvious that it is prosthetic given the unusually smooth, plastic texture. ¡°I thought the docs told you to wait a few weeks until you installed any prosthetics, Olga,¡± I warmly remark, ¡°doesn¡¯t it hurt? They did say it might cause some longtime nerve damage if you use it so soon,¡± I finish squeezing the artificial limb. Olga lets out a mild pained scoff in response and gently rubs my head with her other arm. ¡°So harsh, Madame,¡± Olga scoffs with a wince, ¡°whatever weighing on your mind must be serious, I take it?¡± For a moment, I don¡¯t respond and instead look back at the approaching Side capital. I look back at Olga, and she nods, leaning in and speaking in a low voice. ¡°It¡¯s about the coup you attempted, isn¡¯t it?¡± Olga cocks her head upward with a frown ¡°you¡¯re feeling uneasy because of that¡­ woman, I take it?¡± Olga inquires about Kamon, and I respond with a nod. The lanky blonde strokes my bangs and sighs. ¡°Up until now, the thought of spies working for her in the fleet has never crossed my mind¡± I respond coolly, reaching to stroke my mature scar, ¡°much less the possibility of assassination. I don¡¯t want to doubt any of my men¡ªit wouldn¡¯t be right. We have all endured two hells in such a short span¡­ but as Simon told me, there¡¯s no telling what the woman may do. Would they dare defy her word? Or, rather, have they defied their word for the fleet¡¯s sake?¡± I stroke my poncho before gripping them tightly, ¡°I¡¯m overthinking things too much, Olga. I¡¯m no better than that wretched Zhui¡­ this paranoia is killing me! I have no idea who I can trust now.¡± ¡°But you trust me, Li¡­¡± Olga nearly whispers, I look up into those beady worried eyes of hers, ¡°you wouldn¡¯t doubt me now, would you?¡± She asks, a subtle crack in her voice. A sense of doubt rises as I stare into those beautiful blue eyes, but they are thoughts that I immediately perish. I shake my head and push myself onto Olga, squeezing both of her arms, prompting another low groan from Olga. Why would I have such a horrible thought of doubting Olga of all people? ¡°Even if I wanted to, Olga, I could never hold any suspicion of you,¡± I say warmly. I lessen my grip on her prosthetic forearm before I continue, ¡°you have my absolute trust. I have as much trust in you as I do with Sergi or Simon¡ªeven Brutus,¡± with grimacing pain, I pry a smile and Olga grins back. She then utters a sigh and gently strokes my disfigured cheek with one of her thumbs. ¡°Thank you, Madame,¡± Olga replies softly as she clears her throat, ¡°you would not believe how much that means to me.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll keep saying it, but you can properly thank me by dropping the mention of that name,¡± I reply warmly. Olga cracks a wider smile while patting me on the head. Something tells me it is futile and she won¡¯t obey my wish. ¡°That aside¡­¡± Olga¡¯s gaze looks behind me at the navigator relaxing with his feet on the console, arms crossed. Then we observe the exceedingly large view of the Brunsb¨¹ttel, its entrance expands to compensate for the entry of larger vessels. Just off to our starboard is the Montepuez, by now overtaking the Shiva. Both seem to have slowed down as if anticipating us to enter the Brunsb¨¹ttel first. ¡°To enter the capital first, and if we do, should I have my foot soldiers on standby in case of armed confrontation with Kamon¡­¡± I clear my breath, ¡°and heaven forbid, Simon?¡± ¡°Have you been able to contact Simon?¡± Olga asks. But after she does, the lanky woman frowns. ¡°It would be too risky if we directly interacted with each other. There¡¯s a possibility that Kamon could be tapping into our communication channel,¡± I reply wryly ¡°and I don¡¯t want to put Simon into any more trouble than he might be in.¡± ¡°And if you enter first with weapons at the ready, then it might cause some misunderstandings. Even more so if either is present and depending on if they are seeking to detain you¡ªif not the rest of the Castelforte¡ªand if they aren¡¯t, then it would only result in needless escalation, would it not?¡± And avoiding a bloody civil war amid a Federation choke-hold is what Simon and I have worked to avoid. And if it simply comes around to that anyway, then what was the purpose of our painful struggling? Would there be any point to the thousands of sacrifices I¡¯ve sacrificed if we are to subject ourselves to petty squabbling born out of frustrating misunderstanding and paranoia?! With a hoarse sigh, I step away from Olga and caress my cheek. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°No words could suffice for this frustrating impasse,¡± I say while gritting my teeth. From behind, Olga rests a hand on my shoulder and gently massages it. ¡°If it comes to it,¡± Olga states ¡°you could flee to the Frankish domain and avoid Kamon¡¯s wrath altogether¡­¡± Olga leans in closer, her warm breath makes my right ear tingle, ¡°we can leave everything behind: just the two of us. If you want, I could conspire with Brutus about it too, if you truly trust him as a confidant,¡± speechless, Olga grips my arms slightly as if urging for my answer ¡°we can do it, Li. We could assume new identities and not even the Federation would be none the wiser¡­¡± I could feel my heart skip a few beats. I turn around to face her directly: but the loss of words has me paralyzed. Abandon the mafia? Abandon Simon and all those who fought and died so that a horrible person like me could live¡ªonly to abandon everything I¡¯ve fought for and leave behind for a proposed new life? ¡°To flee the mafia now, of all things¡­¡± I say softly, my gaze to the floor, ¡°it¡¯s a possibility that I¡¯ve dwelled on while conversing with Miss Happ¡­ and something I¡¯ve considered lightly. But to do it now? After everything we¡¯ve been through, and for such selfishness?¡± ¡°Miss¡­ Happ?¡± Olga asks, visibly confused. ¡°The young officer I¡¯ve met on the Yilan, back at Valspon,¡± I explain ¡°she was the one who took temporary command after her superior was killed¡­¡± I clear my throat, watching Olga as she winces: likely remembering the experience she put the Taiga through. ¡°We shared a lot of insight with each other before I had to cut our time short for Velksland¡­ and it pains me I could not spend even a little more pain with her.¡± ¡°Was it alright for you to be exchanging information with the enemy, Madame? ¡± Olga asks, her eyes flicker with worriedness. I only shake my head. ¡°I do not think of her as an enemy. The fleet at Valspon does not act in tandem with that of Velksland¡¯s. Miss Happ hoped to avoid what she perceived as a misstep by her commanding officer, and I trust her. I had no choice then otherwise,¡± I take a deep breath, ¡°I felt sympathetic to her: why did she avoid engaging my fleet after breaking through, Olga? Because she did not wish to condemn her fellow soldiers to a pointless death. She did what she could to avoid invading the Mafia and failed, and picked up the pieces to reverse what she remarked as a disaster. She¡¯s not my enemy, Olga, and she does not seem like the kind to be treacherous¡­ I trust her because she seemed genuine to me,¡± as I finish, I glance at Olga who gives a nod of approval. ¡°Though it does hurt me you didn¡¯t take me along to see this ¡®Miss Happ¡¯¡­ I¡¯m relieved that you found some form of understanding with a Federation soldier. I can only take your word for it, but I feel that I could relate to her worrying over your wellbeing. The decision to flee into exile is an enticing one, I¡¯d admit¡­ but we¡¯d also be leaving everyone at the mercy of Kamon, wouldn¡¯t we?¡± Olga asks, with a shrug of her shoulders, ¡°If exile is out of the question, then what will you do, Madame?¡± ¡°What shall I do, indeed?¡± I muse while stroking my disfigured skin. If I dock first, it could cause an issue born out of misunderstanding ¡ªas would leaving for another system. If I permit the Don and Beatrice to do so first, then there is a risk of being surrounded and overwhelmed by numbers in the harbor. But even so, it would likely give Kamon and my father some reassurance that I have no urgency in kindling the needs for a coup or such. Without another word, I walk back towards the nearly-dozing-off navigator, who sits up upright as I approach. ¡°M-Madame? Have you decided on what we¡¯re doing?¡± He asks while trying to suppress a yawn. ¡°Standby until the Montepuez and Shiva enter the harbor first¡ªthen we will dock afterward,¡± I remark, before striding towards the radio operator, informing him of the same order to pass on my intentions to the Don and Beatrice. The radio operator, who is even less clued in on what was happening just moments ago, can only afford a nod before he tunes his communications device to the two ships. Now, I can only help and wait. And pray that the Don does not get suspicious of my rather long deliberations. Maybe I¡¯ve caused myself more trouble than what it¡¯s worth paddling in paranoia to likewise fuel the Don¡¯s hallucinations. But I¡¯ve told him of my wish to stay out of further Mafia affairs¡ªhe¡¯s not particularly an issue, but there is always Kamon that could speak nonsense into his ear. After all, Zhui is responsible for evoking all this nonsense in the first place. But aren¡¯t I the bigger fool now for being infected by his delusions as well? As I watch the Montepuez and the Shiva enter the Brunsb¨¹ttel¡¯s runways, an oddity catches my eye on the Side itself: a rather disturbingly large gaping hole is swarmed by dozens of shuttlecraft coupled with blips of smaller vessels and astro-engineers attempting to fix this. I¡¯ve never noticed it on either occasion of passing the Brunsb ¨¹ttel, and I find it rather baffling. Was this a Federation doing? Or perhaps a civilian uprising had taken place? No matter, I suppose. I¡¯ll have to ask Simon about it once we are off the Castelforte. Just as I head out of the bridge, I find myself approached by a platoon worths¡¯ of elite guards, all carrying rifles or glaives. Olga, who has been following me, steps forward and keeps her prosthetic arm stretched out in front of me. Even beyond most of the platoon, I can make out Brutus, who shrugs in a sign of defeat. He must¡¯ve been trying to stall them from visiting me, I suppose. ¡°What is this about?¡± I ask, eyeing the leader of them, a man with mutton chops that I recognize as Ishmael. ¡°I won¡¯t beat around the bush,¡± Ishmael says in his thick Ruthenian accent ¡°our curiosity about your plans in the capital peaked¡ªwhat do you intend for us to do? It¡¯s no secret among my men that we will have a showdown with Madam Hwang¡¯s forces,¡± he glances swiftly at his platoon ¡°couldn¡¯t help but notice you are letting the enemy bolster their strength in such a case. There¡¯s no way we are going about this unscratched¡ªwithout punishment, you know.¡± ¡°A rather imaginative claim you have, Ishmael,¡± I remark, folding my arms under my breasts ¡°I hope to avoid any pointless conflict,¡± as I continue, one of Ismael¡¯s eye twitches at the words, ¡°and so, with that said, once we enter the Brunsb ¨¹ttel I want all of you to stand down¡ªonce we disembark from the Castelforte, all of you will do so unarmed and without your armor. I want to assure Simon and the others that I have no intention of inciting any further violence. Do I make myself clear?¡± I clear my throat while tapping my arm, ¡°and even so, the one they will want is me. I have faith that Simon¡ªor Kamon will not lay so much as a finger on any of you,¡± I scan the mix of expressions before continuing, ¡°I ask of you¡­ of all of you, that you bear with any discomfort you face until the situation dies down, and refrain from doing anything rash.¡± Ishmael scoffs and turns his back to me. ¡°Your blind and utter confidence in others will be your downfall, Madame. Let us hope that it does not drag the rest of us down,¡± Ishmael retorts as he and his platoon storm off, leaving Brutus, Olga, and I alone. After the platoon leaves, Olga turns her attention to me. ¡°Should I contact Sergi of your decision to, essentially, stand down, Madame?¡± She asks, glancing at the puzzled Brutus. I can only suspect there is similar doubt on Sergi¡¯s end on the Hugh. After a moment of thinking, I nod, and Olga heads off back to the bridge. ¡°Madame¡­¡± Brutus mutters, glancing back at the now-gone platoon, ¡°what¡¯s going on? Or, rather, what did happen to bring this about?¡± There¡¯s no use hiding anymore from Brutus, I suppose. With a heavy exhausting sigh, I rub my scarred nose ridge and look Brutus in the eyes. ¡°The truth is¡­¡± I trail off, biting on my lower lip, trying to force myself to tell him the truth, ¡°the truth is¡­ on our first visit to the Brunsbuttel, I attempted to deliver a coup with Simon¡¯s backing¡­¡± Brutus¡¯s face turns pale at the realization, and he takes a few steps back in shock, ¡°but events did not go as planned. Simon even warned me of the possible ramifications once the battle is over. But now that it has come, I can only help that I¡ªas well as everyone in the Castelforte¡ªare spared from any cruel fate. ¡± ¡°You attempted to go against your father¡­?¡± Brutus utters, still in a state of shock. He tries to recompose himself, but he can only afford to take deep breaths. I take a few steps toward the brute and clasp his gigantic hands with mine. ¡°I did what I had to do, Brutus,¡± I reply softly ¡°if seizing power meant avoiding further bloodshed, then I would¡¯ve deposed of the Don even if I remained accountable for my crimes against the Federation,¡± I squeeze Brutus¡¯s hands before continuing, ¡°if it meant that everyone I loved would be spared from the mercy of the Metropolitans, I would do it again if I had the chance.¡± ¡°And you never shared this with me, not even once?¡± Brutus asks softly. Though he looks less pale now, Brutus still looks deeply betrayed by the seeming lack of trust he imagines I had in him. ¡°I wanted to protect you,¡± I reply, my voice cracking a little ¡°if you had knowledge of it¡­ and indeed if Kamon dared to punish the Castelforte ¡­ I couldn¡¯t live with myself if you got hurt, Brutus,¡± as I finish, Brutus gives a slow, reluctant nod. And then, unexpectedly, Brutus wraps his arms around me, holding me close to him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Brutus,¡± I say trying to keep my voice from stifling, ¡°it was hard on me to keep it withheld from you.¡± ¡°I understand, Li,¡± Brutus responds, stroking my head, ¡°maybe if I was in your shoes, I would¡¯ve done the same if I was fearful of possible retaliation. I think you made the right call, up until the last second,¡± Brutus says after taking a heavy breath. We remain like this for a little while until Brutus releases me from the embrace. ¡°Brutus?¡± I ask, swallowing my self-doubt, ¡°you¡­ you don¡¯t hate me, do you?¡± As if caught off-guard, Brutus lets out a scoff. He pats me softly on the shoulder before sliding his hand to stroke my scarred cheek. ¡°I could never dream of it, Li,¡± Brutus remarks ¡°for some reason or another, it¡¯s kinda impossible for me to, after all,¡± before I get the chance to register what he says, Brutus takes a few steps and heads back the way he came. ¡°Where are you going?¡± I ask, surprised at his sudden leave. Brutus glances back with a grin. ¡°I¡¯m just going to check on that Ishmael guy to make sure he¡¯s doing as he¡¯s told,¡± Brutus says rather slyly. I crack a smile¡ªbearing the pain that comes with it before letting Brutus go on his way, waving him off all the same. With Brutus¡¯s departure, I am now more r less alone in this corridor. And soon enough, it is the Castelforte¡¯s turn to enter the Brunsb ¨¹ttel, and it does so at a gradual pace. As we enter the mouth of the Side, I clench my chest, wondering if this is the best course of action, after all. Chapter 82: Toscana Requiem | Reunion A slight force pushes me as I stand in place. It is a phenomenon that lasts only briefly before it seems the Castelforte slows down before eventually coming to an apparent full stop. Not long after, a stronger gravitational force than earlier pushes my stomach up, and for a few moments, I feel queasy. It¡¯s something I¡¯ve experienced countless times before and have spent nearly my whole life space-faring. It is something that, by now, I would say is second-hand nature. Even long before Simon took me into the Mafia, my earliest memories were staring into the vastness of spaces or observing adults at innumerable harbors. And for a bittersweet euphoria, I am bombarded with memories of helping papa carry around trinkets here and there, for the sake of helping around with the family business. And yet, all things considered, the occurrence that comes with a ship pulling into harbor is one I continue to dread. Countless generations that span nearly three centuries, millions of colonizers and aspiring space-faring people have lived out their lives from crib to coffins experiencing this very moment¡ªand still suffer from varying degrees of space sickness. Sometimes it leaves me to wonder if humanity as a whole could ever truly adapt to living their lives out in space. Radiation cancer is always a looming threat to our bodies. And despite the numerous apparent breakthroughs in the field of medicine, one is never truly safe from succumbing to the numerous exposure we give ours and our children living in space¡ªrather that be in a Side colony or any given planet rather than Terra. But suppressing these only gives more leeway to nervousness. A little lightheartedness¡ªa tight feeling in my chest. I can barely contain myself. I attempt to calm my trembling hands: but even that fails. Then, it is my shoulders that shiver, and I caress my arms to no continued avail. I cusp a hand over my mouth, swallowing the unchecked lump of doubt forming in my throat. I¡¯ve been avoiding the bridge and most people, preferring to linger around the Castelforte¡¯s hub doors in preparation for disembarking. But after everything is said and done, perhaps seeking out Olga or even Brutus¡¯s company would do much to keep me calm. But before I can dwell on this any longer, a loudspeaker tersely announces that the Castelforte is moments away from docking, and asks everyone to brace for the impact that may occur from it. Before I get the chance to even react, however, the very compartment I stand in rocks upward violently. Without even realizing it, I am practically thrown to the floor, a startled cry escapes my lips. ¡°The nerve of the bridge crew,¡± I murmur as I sit up straight and dust off my poncho. Behind me, a hissing of the giant door as it depressurizes. As the hissing dies out, it is followed by a faint, continuous whine of what I believe is the gangway unfolding and extending out. With a long, deep breath, I help myself up with the wall as support and inch towards the hatch door. As I reach out to open it, I pause once I hear a massive rumbling of footsteps, and look behind me to see an endless crowd of the Castelforte crew watching me eagerly. To say that many look anxious would be an understatement: a lot are pale, and others bite down on lips or caress their shoulders in antiquation of what is to come. And look at me, a miserable woman being no better. I would be lying if I said I would be making a good example of how to remain calm in this time of uncertainty. Without another word, I run a hand through my silky hair¡ªthen caress my mature scar before making eye contact with the men again. ¡°Let¡¯s get this over with, shall we?¡± I ask warmly, and reach over to the door¡¯s console so that it opens. The process is eerily slow, and after a small gust of breezy air enters the compartment, I gesture to the crew to head out, and I take a step from the door to give the crowd some room. At first, nobody budges. But then one person does pass by me and steps out onto the ramp. Then three more, then seven, until I begin to lose track of the herd picking up momentum heading out in a somewhat orderly fashion. There is no rhythm or rhyme to who goes, as I see an assortment of crew members from the gunners to bridge personnel staggering out. Among those present are the elite guards led by Ishmael, who I almost barely didn¡¯t recognize without their armor or weapons. As Ishmael passes me, he spits at my feet and gives me a dubious glare before continuing onto the ramp. While waiting for the crew ¡ªwho all look just as tired as they are anxious¡ªI dare not look outside but I listen as intently as I can for any signs of trouble. I nearly deflate from sighing, taking solace in the fact that he has¡ªdespite his personal judgment¡ªis willing to put aside his difference if it means for the better. For better or worse, I do not so much as hear battle cries or the popping of guns or bickering between men. It remains as quiet as it possibly could be, so much so that I don¡¯t doubt I could hear the squeaking of any rodents that could be scrambling yet. And yet, I resist the nerving desire to peak outside: my gaze remains fixated at the endless column of the crew making their leave. Very few, if any, bother with the somewhat odd naval custom of seeking permission on leaving to ¡®shore¡¯¡ªone I never quite cared for myself. Some of the older crew of the Castelforte were once Metropolitan or colonial sailors, long since decommissioned or discharged and left without jobs. I used to be skeptical of Simon¡¯s decision to corporate them into the Castelforte, but these men and I have come to mutual understandings of one another and with their fellow brothers. After what seems like a couple of hours, the crowd thins out without any further famillar faces, but I do spot Haru among the sea of men, she scurries on so fast that neither of us get a word in, and I only grimace a smile. The corridor is less cramped¡ªbordering on empty, even. Eventually, the last stragglers of the Castelforte approach, no fewer than twenty at this point. Most of them are around Simon¡¯s age, and just about all of them are remarkably unkempt. At a glance, their clothing is almost in tatters, with exception of their most ponchos which are seemingly pristine in contrast. Their faces are dirtied to the point of soot, and the two men closest to me violate my nostrils with their horrid stenches. If anyone didn¡¯t know better, they would disregard these precious men as total bums¡ªbut despite their outward appearances, they are untouchables in a way¡ªthe old guard of the Castelforte. With a slow reach, I pat my chest with a fist, quietly, earnestly pressing against the leathery texture. One by one, the old guard solemnly does the same. In that brief moment of mutual respect we have for each other, there lingers only silence. And with that, I part ways with the men¡ªperhaps for the last time¡ªand they depart as quietly as they came. With another deflating sigh, I turn to head out myself¡ªbut I am stopped when I see another group of people approaching. This time, it¡¯s some of the bridge crew: Clyde, Bowen, and to my surprise Brutus and Olga. ¡°You haven¡¯t departed yet, Madame? ¡± Olga asks, puzzled. ¡°You could say I had cold feet in leaving the ship before everyone else,¡± I reply warmly, grimacing a little as I smile, ¡°I felt it would only be fitting as the captain to see to it that everyone leaves before I do. With that said, is there anybody else left on the ship?¡± The group ponders the question and shakes their heads no, ¡°very well, then.¡± Clyde and Bowen are the first to advance. When the two of them are a step outside the door, I am filled with an urge to stop them. And instinctively, I reach out and grab the nearest one to me which happens to be Bowen. Clyde is slow to realize it first and backtracks after the fact. Bowen clears his throat: slight shivering. But he doesn¡¯t utter a word. ¡°Thank you,¡± I say after a spell of silence that seemingly lasts forever, ¡°for everything the two of you have done,¡± as I continue I grip Bowen¡¯s shirting tighter, ¡°and I¡¯m sorry, Bowen, for the inhospitality I may have given you. It may seem as though I don¡¯t view highly of you¡ª¡° a long exhale cut loose ¡°but in fact, you are invaluable. What you have done along with Clyde has helped to preserve the fleet. Your contributions during the battles could not be understated,¡± when I finish, I let my arm drop. Bowen remains silent afterward, but then he looks me in the eyes and smiles wonderfully. ¡°Don¡¯t¡­ sweat it¡­ Madame¡­¡± Bowen says tersely, ¡°I did¡­ we did, what ¡­¡± Bowen pauses, a little longer than his concise speaking manner before he grins again ¡°we merely did¡­ what we were asked of¡­ it was the only natural¡­ thing to do, is it not?¡± After Bowen concludes, I take a step close to Bowen and extend an arm out. Bowen takes out his opposite arm and grasps my hand: the two of us silently handshake; a firm appreciation for each other. Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. And, just like that, Bowen turns to look at Clyde, who gives his nod of approval, and the two-step out of the Castelforte onto the ramp. I turn my gaze to the duo remaining, gesturing for them to depart. But neither move and they stare at me with mild grins. Olga steps forward and latches her mechanical arm around mine. Brutus, likewise, does the same without another word. ¡°Hey¡­!¡± I utter after a small cry of surprise escapes my lips, ¡°w¡­what are you two doing?!¡± ¡°I think you¡¯ve been letting a certain somebody wait far too long as is, Li,¡± Brutus remarks, exchanging glances with Olga. ¡°Put me down this instant,¡± I mutter, surprising even myself with the timidness of my voice. My feet, since firmly rooted on the ship¡¯s flooring, find themselves at first tiptoeing¡ªthen off the ground altogether. ¡°This is embarrassing!¡± I retort, my cheeks blush, ¡°I¡­ I am very much capable of going down by myself!¡± It¡¯s a cry that goes unanswered. Brutus starts moving, and so does Olga. I am left helpless as they march me through the brightening door outside¡ªand the luminescent harbor makes me blink rapidly before adjusting to the light. Below, and at various other harbor levels in the distance, hundreds of ships are docking. Swarms of ants form at the base of many of them, and even below us is an ocean of faces, bald heads, and enthusiastically chummy individuals. The closer we get to the ground, the more uncomfortable I become once more eyes are drawn to us. Some fools dare laugh at us, others take jabs at my unfortunate ¡®capture¡¯. ¡°This isn¡¯t necessary,¡± I mumble again. Olga can¡¯t help but crackle a chuckle: she reaches over and gives me an unwarranted rustling of my hair as if treating me like a dear little kitten. ¡°If we didn¡¯t do anything about it, then you¡¯d never get off the ship,¡± Brutus says in a rather matter-of-fact tone. I shoot him a glare, but it¡¯s impossible to get mad at that stupid smug face of his. Deep down, perhaps I am¡­ was too worried about the repercussions. And after everything is said and done, maybe there wasn¡¯t too much to worry about after all. I expect them to let me down from this embarrassing carry once we reach the base of the ramp ¡ªbut they do no such thing. I gently kick my feet and pull from their iron grips to no avail. Olga, Brutus, and some of the surrounding pirates can¡¯t help but chuckle or flat-out laugh. ¡°Now, now, Madame,¡± Olga says coolly ¡°you behave yourself until we present you to master Simon, alright?¡± She pokes me in-between the ribs, and I let out a mild yelp. This treatment is unacceptable. But I understand that if it¡¯s to lighten up the men¡¯s moods, then it¡¯s something I will allow. I don¡¯t dare mention that, however, since they would tactfully take more advantage of it. All I can do now is accept this shameful situation, I suppose. ¡°Does anybody know where the old bloke Simon is?¡± Brutus asks as we trudge through the crowd¡ªpeople generally shuffling out of our path. Some shake their heads, others give some pointers. Brutus thanks them, and I am seemingly spirited away with more direction than before. After enough traversing through the endless crowd, where there are noticeably fewer people. It¡¯s at that point the duo stop. My heart rate spikes, and I bite down on my lip. As if sensing my uneasiness, Olga is the first to lessen her grip, then Brutus¡ªand then they set me down altogether. Having kept my gaze lowered, I decide to¡ªreluctantly¡ªbreak free of the spell and raise my head. And my rapidly beating heart stops. I am left speechless. I¡¯ve been unsure of what to expect this entire time, and now that I¡¯m here I am left to wonder: was I unhealthily obsessing over Kamon, rather than confronting the present? I couldn¡¯t help but scoff¡ªand with that scoff, it¡¯s like an eruption of emotions long-bottled up for my own good. Standing a few meters away was indeed that velvet-blue car, with that all-too-familiar design from an eon forgone. Three men are standing near the front side, all of their backs turned to me. The one on the furthest right has his hand on the lanky man standing in the middle: he¡¯s hunched over, and there¡¯s an unprecedented amount of cigarettes that nearly pile¡ªno, they have piled over, like a disastrous avalanche. I take a step forward, and then another one. A few more before I stop, with reluctance. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot another man¡ªa large, bulky build: the Don walking away with a partial limp. His head hangs low, and he takes one long, extensive drag from the dark oak cigar he holds before flicking it aside. Not once does he turn back, and he limps into a car with Beatrice at his side. Beatrice locks eyes with me for a brief moment before going to the other side of the vehicle. With a glance, my father looks in my direction before shaking his head and slamming the door shut. My eyes dart around¡ªbut no Kamon in sight. Not so much as any men that belong to her. The atmosphere in the harbor is too friendly. I grit my teeth uneasily: this feels too good to be true. Have I been too delusional?! The men accompanying Simon¡ªwhat he calls the three stooges: Rocco, Rami, and Mark, all slowly turn their heads one by one, starting with Rocco. Mark, the one who has seemingly been trying to comfort Simon, pats Simon on the back, and slowly, Simon raises his head and turns around to meet Mark¡¯s pointing. Simon looks remarkably sullen¡ªalmost like a ghost. His eyes are lifeless, and a cigarette hangs loosely from his lips. But that changes when we lock eyes. In an instant, it¡¯s almost like Simon becomes lively. There¡¯s life¡ªpurpose, in his eyes. The knob in his throat wobbles as he struggles to clear his throat, and the cigarette falls to the floor. But Simon doesn¡¯t pay it any mind. Simon¡¯s chest rises and lowers with each breath that seemingly seems exhaustive. And without another word, without another thought. I begin to walk. And after a dozen or so I pick up speed into a sprint. It¡¯s only in the span of a few seconds that I close distance, but it feels like I run on forever. I don¡¯t stop even when Simon is in front of me. My legs, numb, seem to act on their own, and I practically leap into Simon¡¯s open arms. Simon lets out a pained grunt at stopping me with his frail build. I push close to Simon: chest-to-chest, arms around his shoulders, and practically standing on my tip-toes. What bottling I may have done in an attempt to contain my emotions flood through, and I am helpless in preventing several crying sobs from slipping through. But are they cries of sorrow, or one of joy? Until now, I never realized how warm the human body could be. Do I even deserve this sense of belonging I have with Simon? So many people are deserving of Simon¡¯s attention¡ªas well as Olga and Brutus. There are so many people who would be more deserving of their love¡ªand yet they have chosen to dedicate themselves to someone as horrible as me. Simon¡¯s grip on me has been light, and I tug at his poncho as hard as I can, digging my face onto his chest. His wrapping arms do tighten up, but only slightly. ¡°Li¡­¡± Simon mutters, ¡°I¡¯m so relieved¡­ I¡¯m so relieved to know you¡¯re okay,¡± Simon says, his voice cracking as he utters these words, ¡°oh god¡­ what was I thinking? You must¡¯ve gone through a lot. It was wrong of me to let Zhui have his way,¡± Simon pushes me closer to him. Simon wobbles a bit, as if his knees are buckling, ¡°I should¡¯ve never let you go alone¡­¡± As Simon trails off, it occurs to me I¡¯ve been holding my breath because of the shock of being with Simon again. As soon as I catch my breath and breath in, the rancidness of the overwhelmingly horrible odor brought about from the cigarettes violates my nostrils and forces me to cough uncontrollably. But even so, it¡¯s a terrible smell that I¡¯ve come to liken with Simon¡­ a smell that, awkwardly enough, I¡¯ve come to appreciate. ¡°Simon¡­¡± I utter, trying not to gag and catching some more breath, ¡°you smell ridiculously horrible,¡± I finish, biting down on my lips, smiling and wincing at the intense pain brought about by the lingering invisible fumes burning my mature scar. ¡°But¡­ I¡¯ve missed it. I¡¯ve missed you,¡± streams of tears blot Simon¡¯s poncho, and the wetness only grows in radius the more I move my face around his poncho. Simon evokes a gentle laugh, and he hugs me even tighter. ¡°Jung¡­ Jung once told me,¡± Simon takes a moment to clear his throat before continuing, ¡°I should quit for your sake. I don¡¯t know if I can, but¡­ for his wish and your health, I¡¯ll do it,¡± almost at once, Simon pulls himself back, and his eyes are remarkably red from shedding tears. ¡°I¡¯ll hold you to that,¡± I say softly, smiling more¡ªthe pain all the more intensive. He smiles bleakly, but it¡¯s more of a shaking grin. ¡°Welcome back, Li.¡± Chapter 83: Toscana Requiem | A Moment for Two ¡°Are you sure about wanting a ride in my car, Li?¡± Simon asks, puzzlement in his voice¡ªperhaps concern if anything, ¡°I was able to get these useless stooges of mine to clear the backseat out, but we didn¡¯t have any blasted refresher on hand.¡± I glance over at his underlings, and they practically hang their heads low: hands clasped like apologetic dogs. ¡°You won¡¯t be hurting my feelings if you wanted to ride with your men, you know,¡± Simon adds. Knowing Simon, he would feel hurt, though. I glance behind us at Olga and Brutus. They are at another car just behind us, exchanging some passing remarks over the car hood. I cannot make out what either is saying from here: most of the sailors are flowing past our makeshift parking, and it is rather loud. Olga is the first to catch my gaze, followed by Brutus. The two of them wave shortly and before I can lift a hand to wave back, I lose sight of them among the people around us. I turn my attention back to Simon. ¡°I believe I¡¯ve spent more than enough time with them. I need a little break from their¡­,¡± I evoke a mild wince, ¡°shenanigans. I¡¯m sure they can last without me, at least for a car ride¡¯s worth back to the manor,¡± I say, warmly, ¡°it wouldn¡¯t kill them to spend some quality time together. I don¡¯t believe they don¡¯t dislike one another, and since they have a common ground being my confidants, they¡¯ll quickly form a friendship, will they not?¡± Simon blows a sigh, shrugging his shoulders. ¡°Well, well. I wouldn¡¯t know anything about that¡­ but it never crossed your mind that you¡¯ll be torturing either of them this way?¡± Simon asks, tapping the hood of the ruby-blue car. I cock my head at the question, grimacing as I frown. ¡°Torturing them, how?¡± I ask, stroking my disfigured cheek. Simon rolls his eyes and blows a sigh. ¡°Well, I know if I were in Brutus¡¯s shoes, I wouldn¡¯t want to be in the same confined space for an extended amount of time as someone like miss Olga,¡± Simon muses, scratching his smooth chin, ¡°it would make him, in particular, feel rather uncomfortable, don¡¯t you think so, Li?¡± When Simon glances at me, he seems rather surprised. ¡°Ah¡­ you know what, Li, forget I said anything. I think it¡¯s going over your head a little bit.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m supposed to take that as you teasing me for being short,¡± I say, warmly, tugging at his cloak, ¡°rather, I feel like you don¡¯t want me to spend some time with you alone.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not like that, Li,¡± Simon says, placing his hand over mine, ¡°it¡¯s more like¡­¡± ¡°The car really smells like shit!¡± Rami pipes in, nearly bursting in between me and Simon, ¡°honestly, just standing by here, waiting for it to air out is still enough to make me gag.¡± ¡°Poor ol'' Simon is worried about you getting sick!¡± Mark adds, also piling in from behind Rami, ¡°honestly, just driving here with those cigs in tow made me nearly pass out several times!¡± From behind Mark, the last of the so-called Stooges, Rocco, grabs the heads of the other two and forces them down. ¡°At the end of the day, it is our fault¡ªor rather these two knuckleheads are at fault for not even shoveling out the cigarettes earlier,¡± Rocco glares at Simon, who forces a pitiful smirk, ¡°and this guy manages to be an even bigger bozo than these two. Seriously! Who runs through nearly a cart full of cigarettes and doesn¡¯t even bother disposing of them properly?!¡± Rocco wraps his arms and nearly strangles Rami and Mark, ¡°really, though, despite our shortcomings, we just don¡¯t want you to get so queasily,¡± Rocco says, ¡°especially after how horrible the stuff you just went through. The other car has clean air and stuff, though.¡± ¡°Rocco, Rami, Mark¡­ I appreciate all of your concerns, and Simon¡¯s too¡­¡± I say, softly, looking them all in the eyes as well as Simon¡¯s, ¡°I don¡¯t mind, really¡­ and for better or worse I¡¯ve been sort of accustomed to it over the years,¡± I shift my gaze over to the rolled down windows, and the rear car doors both left ajar. ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯re both adequately aired out by now. I think the four of you are fretting over this much more than you might think.¡± Simon lets out a scoff. ¡°Alright, alright, Li, you win,¡± he pats me on the shoulder, ¡°should I have one of my boys act as Brutus¡¯s and Olga¡¯s driver?¡± I glance at the car the aforementioned duo are at. It crossed my mind that I could have Carla drive for them instead. But she has experience with piloting a shuttle, not a ground vehicle. Plus, I don¡¯t have a way of summoning her at the moment. At least not in this confusing mess of a crowd. ¡°I don¡¯t see why not,¡± I remark ¡°I hoped of seeking out another pilot to act as their chauffeur¡ªif it meant making things less awkward for Brutus¡­ but now that I think about it, having two women accompany the big oaf would make him unsettled, so sending a male driver would make things more comfortable as company¡­¡± I trail off, looking the three stooges in the eyes, ¡°¡­probably.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll go!¡± Rami says, making his way towards the rear car, ¡°I¡¯ll make it my duty to make things as awkward as possible for the two of them,¡± he says, scurrying along. I give my nod but realizing that the crowd makes it hard to hear, turn to the remaining trio. ¡°Wait, what did he say?¡± I ask. The trio doesn¡¯t say anything and only answers with smiles. ¡°Er, sorry, I think I bit my tongue,¡± Rami says, hurriedly, ¡°I¡¯ll try to keep things as lively and positive as possible,¡± and with that, he runs off out before I could protest. ¡°You know, I think I¡¯ll join him,¡± Rocco says, rushing off to join him. He turns to glance at us, ¡°just to make sure he doesn¡¯t spark any arguments, and, uh, cause a tragic accident or something. Never mind Mark¡¯s driving, Rami is the least qualified driver there is in Toscana.¡± ¡°Hey!¡± Mark shouts ¡°I¡¯ll have you know I only crashed¡­ maybe four times this year,¡± Mark turns his attention to us, ¡°y¡¯know, wouldn¡¯t it make more sense for Rocco to stay here and have me go, instead? I mean, the thought of driving for you two just makes me anxious.¡± ¡°Well, it probably doesn¡¯t matter either way,¡± Simon answers, ¡°just start the damn car already.¡± At Simon¡¯s order, Mark enters the driver¡¯s seat and gets ready to turn on the vehicle. At the other car, Brutus and Olga enter the rear passenger seats, and Rocco and Rami likewise start the car as well. ¡°Your henchmen are quite eccentric, Simon,¡± I say, laconically, ¡°I¡¯m not sure if I should be worried for our wellbeing, or Brutus and Olga¡¯s wellbeing.¡± ¡°I sometimes wonder why I even bother with these stooges,¡± Simon says, palm to his face, ¡°you wouldn¡¯t believe how much trouble they cause me daily. Hell, just a few days ago I practically got thrown out of a hotel because of their idiocy. Eccentric doesn¡¯t even do them¡­ er, justice of describing their nature. The men under you are far more complacent in comparison, it makes me a little jealous I don¡¯t have normal-functioning people under me.¡± ¡°With subordinates like these, how can you say you don¡¯t have a moment of dullness in your life?¡± I ask, stroking one of my long bangs. ¡°Life¡¯s a comedy, as the saying goes,¡± Simon laments in return, ¡°in my case, it¡¯s more like a black comedy.¡± I can¡¯t help but peek a pained smile at those words. Simon gestures for me to enter the car, holding the door open as I duck and take a seat. Inside, I find myself nearly suffocated by a strong gust of lingering tobacco: my lungs and facial scar burn mildly from the still-strong stench. Simon must¡¯ve noticed my brief agony, and he stares at me with a frown. ¡°I did warn you it would be horrible¡­ having second thoughts about the second-hand smoking?¡± Simon asks with his hand on the door¡¯s handle. ¡°I¡¯ve been through much worse,¡± I say, mustering a stinging smile, ¡°at least this has been¡­ ventilated to some degree. Unlike that one time when you¡ª¡± Simon throws his hands up and groans. ¡°Alright, I get it,¡± Simon says. It is difficult to hear him being drowned out by the roar of the engine as the dim-witted Mark finally got around to turning the car on. The driver pokes his head out and yells at Simon to get in already. Simon shrugs with a sigh and breaks off to head around the car and enter the seat adjacent to me. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. A slight pull as the car advances slowly through the progressively thinned-out crowd. We pick up momentum, but it isn¡¯t for long as we then slow down as we make our way through the unfolding traffic jam at the harbor gate. ¡°So, while we still have time,¡± Mark says craning his neck to us, ¡°where are we heading, anyway? The capital building, the big boss¡¯s palace, the lady¡¯s manor, some pub-hopping¡­¡± Mark trails off into a whisper, indicating his carnal desire to stop at bars more than anything. I lean back into my seat and prop my head on the head cushion. ¡°Knowing my father¡­ he¡¯ll want to waste no time in capitalizing on our victory by organizing a grand feast at the palace,¡± I say, meeting glances with Simon. Of course, I would like to add that Zhui may intend to deliberate with Kamon on the best possible way to deal with me, but it¡¯s a thought I quickly suppress. The longer I dwell on the issue, I feel, the more unnecessary stress I will be placing myself under. From what I know it is mere fantasy¡ªdelusions of a fate that may never come to be. I have to keep telling myself that disposing of me will not bode well in a future where the Metropolitans will indeed invade one day. Without another thought, I grasp at the red bandanna tucked away under my cloak and stroke its smooth, relaxing texture. I have to believe that everything will work out fine for me. What other choice do I have? I lift my head before continuing, ¡°what he¡¯ll do until then is beyond me, though. So I¡¯ll rather take advantage of this lull and relax at the manor, at least for the time being.¡± ¡°Alright¡­ fair enough,¡± Mark says somberly ¡°I take it you want Rami to drop them off at your manor, as well?¡± I think on the question for a moment before giving my acknowledgment to do so. Mark complies and orders Rami on the car radio about our destination. ¡°Though what I¡¯d do for a beer right about now,¡± it¡¯s a mumble I only somewhat make out. Simon must¡¯ve heard it too because he lets out a quiet scoff. Before long, the bottlenecking of the harbor gate eases up. And like a surge of water bursting through a dam, our vehicle, and our accompanying car races through one of Brunsb¨¹ttel¡¯s many highways. I take the opportunity to lean slightly out the window, taking in the somewhat refreshing air and the wind, ever so rapid, and coming at me so boldly, brushing off my skin with coolness. If we were driving slower, the gushing wind would be fine¡ªsmoother than what it is now, as calm as water. Nonetheless, I take in the whipping wind as I observe the surrounding meadows interrupted by the occasional suburban district and dotted by the sparse cottage. It is almost as calming as it is hopeless to know that these people live in ignorance. If things had panned out differently, these lush fields and innocent communities would¡¯ve no doubt been scorched to crisps. Any and all relations we have established would have been for naught. But even so, if I have failed at either Velksland or Valspon¡ªthere¡¯s no telling what the Metropolitan forces would¡¯ve done to the local populaces. Would they have initiated a campaign of brutality, or would they enforce a stricter living policy than what we subject the people to? I have heard horrible rumors of reprisals by Ruthenian soldiers, but not so much as Federation ones. I shudder to think what would have happened if Jung did not annihilate the Ruthenian contingent and if we had lost the battle at Velksland. If they survived, they would have no doubt inflicted terrible retribution upon the L ¨¹beck colonies. Jung ¡­ Sliding back into my seat, I glance at Simon, who rests against the open window, a hand cupped over his mouth in deep ponder. His eyes wander the passing country towns. He reaches for his inside pocket¡ªperhaps a carton of tobacco, but he retracts his hand with a clenched fist. He turns his gaze to meet eyes with me, but it¡¯s only brief. As in embarrassment, his eyes dart back to the landscape. ¡°Sorry¡­¡± Simon mutters, ¡°old habits will die hard. And for this old dog, teaching it new manners will be hard as hell,¡± Simon says, an attempt at suppressing a scoff. I stare at Simon for a little longer. Then I pass across the seats, slowly, closing the gap between Simon and me. Simon tries his best not to pay attention but his curiosity betrays him. I gently rest against his arm: head on his shoulder. The unbelievable stench and the awkward positioning make it difficult to relax like this, but I bear with it nonetheless. ¡°I¡¯ll be there to put you in your place, Simon, even if nobody else does,¡± I say, warmly, a stroke of his arm. Unexpectedly, Simon raises his arm¡ªI lean the other way to give him ample space to extend it. I look at the man with bafflement, but it dawns on me what he was implying for me to do. And I¡¯m more than happy to oblige. I scoot closer, slowly, the stench all the more prominent, and rest myself on Simon¡¯s chest. His outstretched arm lowers itself-seemingly rather reluctantly, and I tug at him in assurance. Simon wraps his arm around me, a modest grip on my feeble shoulder. ¡°Li,¡± Simon mutters ¡°you don¡¯t know how sentimental I¡¯ve gotten this past week,¡± a loud clearing of his throat ¡°to be able to have you in my arms¡­ to be able to hold you like this¡ªif I had to¡­ if I had to hold your lifeless body, I¡¯d¡­ I¡¯d be a very broken man. I¡¯m holding it in like you wouldn¡¯t even know, Li¡­ just thinking about Emmanuel and Jung¡¯s deaths¡­,¡± Simon clears his throat again, a little pronounced this time, ¡°I¡¯m still in shock, still coming to accept that these old boys are gone.¡± A sense of unprecedented guilt swells in my chest. I bury my head onto Simon¡¯s chest and let out a tired sigh. I close my eyes and grip Simon¡¯s cloak. ¡°Their deaths were on me, Simon,¡± I say softly, ¡°I could¡¯ve prevented their deaths. And yet, still¡­ I pushed forward and wasted so many lives. I acted so carelessly¡­ ¡°It should¡¯ve been me that died, Simon. So many good men perished because of my incompetence¡­¡± I bury my head in Simon¡¯s side, ¡°I¡¯ve judged others for letting me down with their incompetence, but I¡¯ve come to realize I¡¯m a bigger failure than any. I¡¯ve let you down, Simon¡­,¡± I slip out the crimson bandanna that once belonged to Julius, ¡°I¡¯ve let down everyone I¡¯ve ever known and love.¡± There¡¯s no response at first, and I dare not look up. I¡¯m too lost in my guilt to even bother. But I feel a droplet on my head¡ªwetness. Then a pressing and gradual rub of my hair. ¡°Nonsense,¡± Sim nearly croaks, ¡°nonsense, nonsense, Li. People have died, but it¡¯s not your fault,¡± Simon continues to comb through my hair with his long, slender fingers, ¡°blaming yourself will not solve anything. Resigning yourself to sorrow will not bring them back,¡± Simon places his other hand on mine and strokes the bandanna as he continues, ¡°agonizing over the past accomplishes nothing but hurting yourself, Li. And when you suffer, the people around you hurt too: like me, Li,¡± Simon clears his throat, followed by a sigh, ¡°I don¡¯t want to see you suffer alone anymore. ¡°We may have lost a lot of friends, old and new, but it¡¯s inevitable. It is by no one¡¯s fault that they have died, other than the Feds who were forced to fire in anger. But what I¡¯m getting at is, Li, it was all out of your control. The only thing you can do is accept reality and move on¡ªthey would¡¯ve wanted that too. ¡°And as for me,¡± Simon continues, struggling to keep his throat cleared, ¡°I don¡¯t want you to think you failed me, Li, or any of that nonsense. You did what you could, and I don¡¯t want you to think otherwise. You did what many couldn¡¯t, and survived. And for me, that¡¯s more than enough,¡± I bite down on my lip and shut my eyes as Simon¡¯s stroking hand slides down to caress my cheeks, ¡°you did good, Li. I¡­¡± a brief pause, ¡°I¡¯m proud of you. You¡¯ve remained so strong against overwhelming odds even without me by your side. I couldn¡¯t possibly express in mere words how proud I am of you.¡± I lift my head, and as I do, Simon embraces me tighter. Likewise, I reach around him with my arms, trembling all the same, ¡°thank you, Simon, thank you so much,¡± I choke, ¡°and¡­,¡± I bite down on my lip, brushing against his chest, and tightening my embrace, ¡°I¡¯m sorry for causing you so much trouble. I¡¯ve been so terrified¡­ so terrified of what I was doing. Terrified of what will have to come.¡± A slight squeeze and I look up at the weary-smiling Simon. ¡°Everything will be okay now, Li,¡± he says, softly, holding me closer, ¡°I won¡¯t make the same mistake twice and let Zhui or Kamon lay a finger on you,¡± Simon traces my scar with a thumb, and I wince a smile, ¡°that¡¯s a promise I intend to keep, so long as I live¡­ no matter what.¡± ¡°As long as you remain dedicated to quitting smoking,¡± I say wryly, grinning more despite the pain, ¡°you have two¡ªbut very big¡ªpromises to keep, Simon¡± as I finish, the man emits a grunt. ¡°Yeah,¡± Simon sighs, ¡°yeah¡­ I do, don¡¯t I?¡± He chuckles and gives me another gracious rub. Simon then takes one hand to prop his head against the window: a furrowed brow. I follow his gaze at the depressing concrete jungle comprising Brunsb¨¹ttel¡¯s central block that passes us rather slowly because of traffic. ¡°Let us hope that the Don or his wife won¡¯t make any irrational decision in the foreseeable future.¡± Chapter 84: Toscana Requiem | For a Slight Detour The journey through the central block is time Simon and I spend in silence, at our respective seats. The towering establishments, crowded as they are here in the capitol sector, are just as imposing looming over us as they are from a distance. Eventually, much like the outlying villages from before, the sight of these intimidating dwellings becomes sparse. But unlike the expectation of seeing humble villages, we ride into vast swaths of land dotted with trees and the occasional lonely metal works. But it¡¯s not long before we ride into the industrial zone. Or more specifically, the industrial area and the adjacent housing area. On my side, well-kept¡ªas well as the occasional neglected¡ªgreen plazas scatter the Side¡¯s landscape. Accompanying them are an assortment of apartment complexes, many are gray in their scheme but some with long-faded colorful attributes, and all mainly uniform in size: at least five stories high. It is here that most of the Brunsb¨¹ttel reside¡ªthose who are too poor to rent a better life in the city or even the estates in the first block. My father¡¯s regime has, by large, chosen to neglect them¡ªSimon and I do what we can to elevate their living standards throughout the years, however. As beautiful as these plazas are, they do little to offset the overall miserableness that many continue to endure. The choking air, the suffocation of the nearby industrial plants, and the ever-constant fear of overpopulation in the complexes and food shortages bring me pain watching these people go about their days in agony. It pains me seeing children suffer, and since coming to this Side I¡¯ve done all I could to provide them and their families with adequate support, rather it is generous donations or overseeing recreational centers, it¡¯s simply never enough. Stroking my scar tissue, I am left to wonder again how much more suffering these poor souls would have to endure if a Federation occupation force. The remainder of that dreadful Legionnaire landing force at Baltit grits my teeth: my imagination runs wild at the idea of legionnaires committing one atrocity after another on civilians that have done no wrong. But regardless of my victories, these people continue to suffer regardless. But that¡¯s just one possibility of what could happen had I lost. For all I know, in a scenario where the Metropolitans succeeded at crushing the Mafia forces, there is a possibility that the occupation force won¡¯t do anything nefarious at all. There is a possibility that the military might consider looking into doing what the previous establishments couldn¡¯t do and improve the welfare of the general populace. But frankly, there is little point in lamenting when the aftermath is set in stone. I have won, and the status quo throughout Toscana has been maintained. With a heavy sigh, I rest my arms and head on the open window, letting the rushing air lash me with each passing moment. For a moment, I blink tirelessly, intending to take a much-needed rest until we reach my manor. But the more we pass through the residential-industrial block, the more something seems off to me. The atmosphere is denser than usual. Tent compounds become more prominent as we race through the horizon. Thick fogs blanket the whole top surface of the Side, owing to the despicable manufacturing plants situated nearby. But something seems different than the norm. Normally, the foggy clouds are not this prominent. Peering more out the window, I scan the horizon closely. A few kilometers away is a rather steep valley¡ªor, rather, a collapsed trench line. It is by large a straight line that seemingly stretches past the naked eye. Almost all of it cuts through the scenic fields, and at one point it has resulted in the partial collapse of an unfortunate apartment complex: some construction lifts can be seen surrounding the building, joined by a herd of tents and similar temporary housing, like small to medium-sized steel huts. Dotting the trench¡¯s cliffs are construction vehicles, mainly bulldozers and the occasional dump truck. Enormous mountains of earth next to any given one, sometimes piles of steel beams nearby. Leaning out the window some more, and bearing the unforgiving wind, I squint at the surface above us. Through the thick mist, I can make out a concerningly large circular silhouette swarmed by shuttlecraft hard at work with damage control. It doesn¡¯t take long for me to connect the dots: this must be the same damage to the Brunsb¨¹ttel that is visible on the exterior. Sitting back in my seat, I look over at the front mirror at Mark. ¡°Mark, if you may, I¡¯d like to make a detour real quick,¡± Mark glances at the mirror with surprise. ¡°Detour?¡± He asks, eyes trained on the road, ¡°what for?¡± After I point at the trench line, Mark seems to think for a moment, his gaze shifting to Simon before giving a nod. ¡°I see¡­ let me see if there¡¯s any parking. That damn sergeant bloke is always giving me a pat-down when I happen to pass through this area¡­ always going on about my habits jumping from pubs, and such.¡± ¡°He¡¯s a good man,¡± Simon muses ¡°I¡¯d be worried if you were behind the wheel, too. Sober or not, you have a tendency for road-rage,¡± when Simon finishes, Mark lets out a disagreeing grunt. Nonetheless, Mark heeds my request and pulls off the main road onto a well-worn dirt path leading to the proximity of the enormous ditch. After coming to a stop, I unbuckle and step out of the car, then make my way around the vehicle towards the cliff. And after seeing it up close and personal, I get a sense of dread at just how imposing the artificially produced valley is. Being careful to look down below, I catch my breath at just how deep it seems to go. It could be more than fifteen meters long, perhaps more than twenty. The rift is likely just as wide, but possibly shorter. Peering more, I can make out metallic fragments marred with parts long burnt to a crisp. Several men are on and near it trying to excavate the remains. From behind, I am firmly gripped by Simon, possibly ensuring that I don¡¯t fall to an early death. ¡°You must be wondering how this happened,¡± Simon says, stroking his chin. I nod, taking a step back from the edge before giving my insight. ¡°When I first saw the damage from the Castelforte, I surmised it was because of collateral damage from a civilian uprising. But I realize now that can¡¯t be the case¡­ it was too peaceful when we rode through the colony. If an incident had occurred, there would¡¯ve been lackeys roaming about. It wouldn¡¯t add up,¡± a brief pause as I stroke my damaged cheek tissue, ¡°did it happen after I left for Valspon? I can¡¯t say the idea ever crossed my mind that it could¡¯ve even happened after the fleet first departed for Velksland. No, wait¡­¡± I turn to face Simon. Simon, having since let go, stands next to me with his arms crossed. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon. ¡°It happened when Che sent the messenger from Baltit,¡± Simon says grimly, again rubbing his chin with a pained look ¡°poor kid was at death¡¯s door when I got to him. I was barely capable of comprehending the message he had of the Feds launching an invasion of Valspon,¡± Simon says, shaking his head ¡°the workers down there told me the shuttle was stripped down nearly to nothing¡ªnot even a life support system. Poor guy endured so many jumps, and the doc said he suffered a lot of trauma because of it.¡± I clench my pained heart. Swallowing newfound guilt. ¡°I recall hearing it from Sergi,¡± I say softly, turning my attention back to the sorry aftermath of the shuttle crash, ¡°but I had no idea Che was in such desperation¡­,¡± I pause as I look back at Simon, ¡°was it only one pilot?¡± ¡°That¡¯s correct,¡± Simon says. As I look over the shuttle remains, I find it obvious the survivor would¡¯ve long been moved by now. Indeed, after looking up to scan our surroundings, there is an unusually spacious compound with actual structures installed not far off from us. This, I take it, would be the rapid response medical facility. Unfortunately for the populace here, the nearest hospitable establishments are only a few clinics: the closest actual hospital is in the central block. If there would¡¯ve been an attempt to move him to a proper facility, I have no doubt he wouldn¡¯t survive the journey. ¡°The pilot¡­ is he still alive?¡± I ask quietly, uncertainty in my voice. Simon is quiet for a moment before he responds with a slight nod. ¡°You want to pay him a visit?¡± Simon asks. Before I get the chance to reply, I am interrupted by the loud humming of Rocco¡¯s car as it pulls up beside ours. It¡¯s only after the engine dies down and the slamming of doors subsides do I give my answer. ¡°I suppose¡­ I feel an obligation to do so,¡± I say, stroking my bangs, ¡°never has so much been owed by so few,¡± I grimace a smirk at Simon, ¡°I feel as though that is something you would say,¡± Simon chuckles and shrugs. Simon aside, I turn my attention to Brutus and Olga who have since joined us. ¡°Sorry, you two, I¡¯m going to pay a small visit to a Baltit survivor,¡± I state, pointing at the medical compound near us, ¡°you can join me if you wish. It won¡¯t be long, I hope.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sure the fella would appreciate the visit more if you had a maid outfit on,¡± Simon muses, I nod before tinging from a frown. ¡°Maybe it was a bad idea not to have one on hand¡­?¡± ¡°Sorry, what did you say?¡± I ask¡ªand to my surprise, Olga has uttered something similar at the same time. Brutus is puzzled, perhaps in disbelief at what he heard¡ªor thought he heard, as well. ¡°Oh, nothing!¡± Simon says with a hearty chuckle, ¡°just an old geezer spouting nonsense,¡± Simon takes a few steps back and limps over to the two cars. ¡°I¡¯ll wait by over here¡ªand I promise,¡± Simon glances back with a smirk, ¡°I won¡¯t be passing the time with a smoke: I swear.¡± Bearing the moderate stinging, I smile, ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll take your word for it, Simon, it won¡¯t be long. And as for you two,¡± I shift my attention to the other two looming over me, ¡°if you wish to join me, you are more than welcome to.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t mind¡­¡± Brutus says wryly ¡°it beats sitting in a cramped car for hours on end! Now that we¡¯re up and about, it doesn¡¯t hurt for some proper exercise.¡± ¡°My,¡± Olga interjects with surprising smugness, ¡°I was expecting you to complain about having to coop up with me in the car,¡± she steps closer to Brutus and pokes him with her elbow. Brutus only sags his shoulders and cuts loose an exasperated sigh. Pinching my scarred brow, I am left to wonder if it was, in fact, a mistake to leave the two of them alone. When I meet Rocco and Rami, the two of them shrug in defeat. It is times like these I wonder if Olga is a force to be reckoned with. ¡°Well, that aside,¡± Olga continues ¡°I think Brutey has the right mindset. We¡¯re out and about, and if we¡¯re getting crammed into those cars again, then I guess it only makes sense to make the most of our free time.¡± As Olga and I start walking to the medical compound, Brutus doesn¡¯t seem to accompany us. Looking back, the large oaf seems baffled. ¡°Is something the matter, Brutus?¡± I ask, giving a slight rub of my cheek tissue. ¡°Brutey?¡± Brutus gazes at Olga. I can¡¯t refrain from cracking a smirk. ¡°Brutey¡­¡± I repeat slyly. Brutus wags a finger before catching up to join us by my side, opposite of Olga. ¡°No,¡± the oaf says sternly, ¡°I¡¯m not going to let you start giving me ridiculous nicknames. So don¡¯t even think about putting ideas in her head,¡± Brutus says, shooting Olga a glare. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you¡¯re getting at, Brutey,¡± Olga says coolly, attempting to force a whistling tune. ¡°I¡¯m not letting this become a habit!¡± Brutus says more sternly this time. He then gazes at me with a frown, ¡°look, Madame, I don¡¯t complain about my treatment much. You know that, so¡­ please, just this once, I¡¯m begging that you and Olga don¡¯t make this some kinda habit.¡± ¡°I think it¡¯s rather affectionate, Brutey,¡± I remark warmly ¡°it¡¯s¡­ cute.¡± Brutus lets out a long, pained groan, slapping himself in the face. ¡°Spare me, will you?¡± Brutus laments, to which Olga and I are more than eager to answer with a resounding no. [author] Chapter was nearing 5k and wasn''t finished yet, so I decided to cut it into two. Thanks for reading![/author] Chapter 85: Toscana Requiem | Due Gratitudes Upon arriving at the entrance, we are stopped by what seems to be the compound¡¯s security. There are two of them with name tags, ROWLEY and MCCARTHY. ¡°No visitor at this time¡­¡± the one named Rowley states laconically ¡°much less from you damned Mafia cronies,¡± Brutus lets out a baffled scoff and crosses his arms. He takes a step forward: as does Rowley. ¡°How dare you?¡± Brutus says with a near sneer, ¡°do you have any idea who you¡¯re addressing?!¡± He nearly butts heads with Rowley, and I reach out to tug on his shirt. Brutus relents, blowing air in Rowley¡¯s face, and takes steps back. ¡°Sorry, we don¡¯t mean trouble,¡± I say caressing my nose bridge, both McCarthy and Rowley glare at me intensely, ¡°but it is rather important for me. And I reassure you I won¡¯t be long¡­ one of my¡­ cronies¡­ is hospitalized here,¡± McCarthy¡¯s eyes flicker for a brief moment as if connecting the dots, ¡°I will not disturb the personnel and we will soon be on our way.¡± ¡°Right,¡± Rowley remarks ¡°right, that¡¯s what they all say. And then they start butting heads with the staff, and then who gets their garnished for a job well done?¡± Rowley rubs his temple and grunts, ¡°no, I¡¯m not risking it anymore. I can¡¯t afford to get docked for the littlest, mundane things anymore. Why the hell do you think I¡¯m out here in the slums? I get one thing slide, and then another, and then they shift me further away from the city¡­¡± ¡°Say, Rowley,¡± McCarthy interrupts. ¡°¡ªAnd it¡¯s all been going downhill ever since you goddamn freaks took over!¡± Rowley continues, his voice slightly rising, ¡°your heads are so far up your asses that you don¡¯t stop to think about all the goddamn bullshit you¡¯ve done to us¡­¡± ¡°Rowley!¡± McCarthy hisses, slapping him on the shoulder. Our eyes meet briefly: genuine fear. ¡°No! You can fuck off,¡± Rowley continues, ¡°I¡¯ve just about had it. You can come back tomorrow, can¡¯t you? Honestly, I hope I never have to even lay eyes on any of you again.¡± ¡°Goddammit, man!¡± McCarthy utters, tightly grabbing Rowley by the arm, ¡°do you have any idea whose tree you¡¯re barking up?!¡± McCarthy sternly points at me: his hand trembling, ¡°that¡¯s the Madame Scarface!¡± All eyes fall on Rowley, who continues to have a reddening face. But like a flick of the switch, Rowley¡¯s muscles relax. Then his fuming-redness slowly drains to pearly white. He opens his mouth to speak¡ªbut nothing comes out. Rowley¡¯s pupils bounce between the three of us and he clears his throat¡ªhis Adam¡¯s apple bobbles with each nervous swallow. Rowley attempts to stutter some syllables to no avail, and the only thing he is capable of uttering to McCarthy is a huh?!. With a heavy exhale, I hold my head up with my left hand while caressing my scarred cheek. Likewise, Olga and Brutus must¡¯ve been holding their breaths since they cut loose nervous sighs as well. ¡°Look,¡± McCarthy states, his gaze to the floor, ¡°if you want to visit¡ªthen go ahead¡­ just please don¡¯t cause any trouble,¡± McCarthy throws a quick look up at us ¡°¡­and if you think you can¡­ reel in your guys. Please. Rowley¡¯s a bit out of line, but I gotta agree with what he said¡­ and please,¡± McCarthy shoots another peek ¡°please¡­ please don¡¯t punish Rowley too much. We¡¯re both just bottling up our anger a fair bit¡­ please¡­¡± McCarthy trails off with a very slight bow. When I glance at Brutus and Olga, neither say anything and only give their response with nods. I step forward and put a hand on the paralyzed Rowley¡¯s shoulder. It does little to produce any reaction out of him: he merely remains disturbed at the revelation. ¡°I will overlook this mistreatment,¡± I say, softly, stroking his arm, ¡°rest assured, I understand that there is a lot of friction between our regime and the people we govern. Furthermore, I will pass it down to have my men refrain from intimating civilians,¡± I look over at McCarthy before continuing ¡°I was going to have my confidants remain here while I¡¯m inside for my visit¡­ but to avoid any commotion, I will have them wait inside the compound,¡± I smile, the pain notwithstanding, ¡°they¡¯re not like the usual¡­ goons, so to speak. I can expect them to be on their best behavior.¡± ¡°Yeah¡­¡± McCarthy utters, ¡°yeah¡­ that¡¯s¡­ I think that¡¯s fine, yeah,¡± McCarthy grabs Rowley and pulls him aside, then gestures for us to enter. ¡°Madame¡­¡± Brutus mutters after we make our way in, breaking the group¡¯s silence. But he only breathes heavily and says nothing more. ¡°I¡¯ll leave you two in good faith to, for lack of a better word, stand there and stand pretty,¡± I say, warmly, trying to locate who may be one of the chief doctors on-site, ¡°I don¡¯t want any further distrust with the community than we do now. I will have Simon reprimand the offenders and rein in his men later. Until then¡­ please make yourselves busy until I¡¯m done,¡± I leave the duo to their devices and approach an older-looking doctor. He has been examining his tablet but we meet eyes when I get close. A name tag hangs on his coat, with a fittingly grizzled photograph: CURE. A small scoff escapes my lips, and I can¡¯t help but smile. A fitting name as any for such a profession, I suppose. Doctor Cure doesn¡¯t say anything at first, but he does tuck the tablet under his right arm. Cure looks past me at the compound¡¯s entrance, and only cuts loose a sigh. ¡°I know what you may be thinking, doctor Cure,¡± I say, softly, ¡°the shuttle pilot¡­ do you know where he is residing? I wish to visit him¡ªit will be only for a moment. My associates and I will leave the compound and respect the no-visitor rule,¡± when I finish, Cure scratches his goatee before our eyes meet again. He points at the faded lime-green steel hut behind him. ¡°He¡¯ll be at the far-end,¡± Cure says in a gruff, monotonous tone, ¡°in more ways than one,¡± with that grim note, doctor Cure shuffles away. After taking a deep breath, I enter the steel hut and am greeted by numerous curtain dividers. Passing by, I witness many who are in appalling states: many remain in comas or otherwise crippled in some way. Occasionally, at each patient, nurses are doing what they can to assist their patients. One of them attempts feeding a patient with little success. Eventually, I come to the divider containing who I perceive as the Baltit pilot, tucked under a heavy blanket: more than the usual amount of medical devices linked to his bed and body. From what I can tell, he has fresh bandaging that keeps him mummified¡ªonly his face is partially wrapped, and he has an oxygen mask hooked up to a large, bulky machine residing by his bedside. Looking around, there doesn¡¯t seem to be anyone who would bother me about the visit. Thus, I carefully draw up a chair and get as close to the pilot as possible. At first, the pilot does not take notice of my presence: his eyes remain closed. But he must¡¯ve sensed my presence since his head jerks to the side and his eyes open. His pupils dart around¡ªand upon looking at me, the pilot seems to let out a long sigh. I open my mouth to speak but to my surprise, the man is the first to speak. ¡°Madame¡­ Chou?¡± He utters, ¡°an angel has visited me at last¡­¡± without another word, the pilot struggles to wiggle out an arm from beneath the covering¡ª ¡°Please, don¡¯t push yourself too hard,¡± I say in a hurriedly hushed tone ¡°it is not worth straining yourself for my sake,¡± when I finish, the Baltit pilot tries his best to invoke a strained chuckle. With his arm now free, the pilot grasps at the air before I reach out to it and bring his hand to my chest. I cup my hand over his as he grips my shirting. ¡°This, is nothing,¡± the pilot gasps with each pronunciation, ¡°compared, to the pain¡­ I endured for Che¡¯s sake¡­ for the Mafia¡¯s sake¡­ for your sake,¡± I shake my head, rubbing his tensed-up hand. ¡°You won¡¯t have to suffer anymore¡­¡± I trail off, realizing I haven¡¯t asked for the pilot¡¯s name yet. I peer closer to the pilot and stroke what strands of hair he has left. ¡°Your name¡­ what is your name?¡± I ask, warmly, as I stroke his clenched hand. The pilot remains quiet, but through the misty oxygen mask I can make out a grin of sorts. His eyes water, if only a little. ¡°I never thought, in my entire life, I would be asked by an angel for my name¡­ and by the Madame Scarface, no-less,¡± the pilot continues, his voice strained. His chest rises and falls in smaller patterns. ¡°Max,¡± he states, ¡°Maximilian, Boyle,¡± through the clouded oxygen mask, I can faintly make out Maximilian grinning some more. His watery eyes lock with mine. ¡°Maximilian, Boyle¡­,¡± I repeat slowly, then again while pressing his hand onto my chest, ¡°it¡¯s a beautiful name, Max,¡± I say, a lone tear races down his cheek. ¡°It pales, in comparison to you, madame Li,¡± Maximilian gasps, ¡°my god, you¡¯re breath-taking. A beautiful angel if there ever was one, I am unworthy of such a visit.¡± ¡°Nonsense, Maximilian,¡± I say, squeezing his trembling hand, ¡°I am forever indebted to your courage. It is the very least I could¡¯ve done¡­ to meet with the one who has set everything in motion. The most I can do is pay my recognition for your invulnerable deeds. Without you¡­¡± I lean in closer ¡°without your determination and sacrifice, perhaps we would not be here today, experiencing this very moment. Maximilian¡­ if there is anything, anything you could possibly want, I would not hesitate in rewarding you in whatever way I can. Rather that be now, or once you recover, I will do it.¡± For the longest time, Maximilian remains silent as he pensively gazes at the ceiling. But it¡¯s not long before the pilot breaks out of it and locks eyes with me again. ¡°Madame Li¡­¡± the pilot starts, ¡°have we won? Has what I have done been meaningful¡­ if it meant helping you preserve the Mafia?¡± The question takes me back. Those gentle, emerald eyes of his, for a brief moment, makes me question if what I have done, has, indeed, achieved much. And yet, I never break off my gaze with Maximilian. Bracing the pain I give Maximilian a warm smile while stroking his cheek. ¡°Yes¡­¡± I clear my throat, feeling Maximilian clench my shirt intently, ¡°yes, your sacrifice was not in vain, Maximilian. I have done everything in my power to ensure the Mafia will strive for years to come. Everything that I¡¯ve done¡ªeverything that we ve done, was not in vain. Far from it ¡­¡± I give a nod, squeezing and stroking his hand before continuing, ¡°you can rest easy, Maximilian.¡± It¡¯s not a lie. I have to tell myself that over and over again. It''s not a lie. Maximilian is once again silent for the longest time. His breathing seems to become more limited: his chest no longer raises as it has before. ¡°That is, all good,¡± Maximilian utters, as tears race down his face, ¡°to be visited by not one, but two, legendary figures of the Mafia. And to play my part, of the stage are honors in of itself. There¡¯s nothing more I could achieve in my life¡­¡± Maximilian struggles to clear his throat, ¡°and now¡­ and now, to be seen off by a gorgeous angel¡­ there is nothing more I could want out of this life, miss Li¡­ thank you¡­¡± Maximilian trails off, his voice is too soft to make out the rest. The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Maximilian?¡± I ask, leaning closer over the man, ¡°Max?¡± but there remains no reply. Concern turns to worry as I realize his hand is limp and heavy. His eyes, once very pretty and full of love, are now clouded and diluted: lifeless. Though in his final moments his eyes remain fixated on me, it¡¯s as though they now look elsewhere upon greater vistas. It¡¯s that slight grin and hollow eyes that are reminiscent of mama in her last moments all those years ago. And although I cannot afford to shed a tear, my heart aches heavily for my sake¡ªmy scar tissue burns, too, reacting strongly as I bury my head in my hand. For all my miracles, all it produces is sorrow and death. My whole life produces nothing but death for others. It is as inescapable as it is familiar. I reach over and caress Maximilian¡¯s cheek again. Wiping away the tears that remain. Then, mustering the courage, I slowly and softly kiss Maximilian on the forehead, and after caressing his forehead one last time, slide my palm down and close his empty eyes. ¡°Rest easily, Maximilian Boyle,¡± I stammer, unable to control my quaking voice any longer. I hunch over, burying my face into his bedding and soaking the warm blanket with tears. And in the next moment, there is weight on my shoulder. I look up, with blurry vision, at doctor Cure with Brutus and Olga behind him. Brutus looks away, his eyes shut and biting on his upper lip. Olga clasps her mouth and keeps her eyes averted. ¡°I am sorry,¡± doctor Cure mutters, his drowsy eyes on Maximilian, ¡°we did what we could for the lad,¡± Cure strokes his chin and lets out a grievous sigh, ¡°but I feel you did more than what I¡ªor any of my assistants¡ªcould do. And comfort him in his final moments,¡± Cure finishes. The doctor then steps away to examine the various medical machinery. Olga kneels next to me and cups her icy, prosthetic hand over mine. She looks at Maximilian, briefly, the sorrowfulness in her eyes, ¡°I¡¯m sure he was happy until the very end to have you by his side, Li,¡± the blonde says, softly, ¡°maybe even grateful. Grateful that someone like you would go out of their way to care for him¡­ in this sorry state,¡± Olga squeezes my hand¡ªthen our fingers interlock, ¡°¡­I know it¡¯s what I would¡¯ve wanted if I was in his place¡ªand I was,¡± Olga finishes. ¡°Does the young man have any family,¡± the doctor asks, his gaze still on the various monitors and checking the straps on Maximilian, ¡°or next of kin to inform of his passing? To send the body to¡­¡± I think about it, but nothing comes to mind. If there is anyone who would know, it would likely be Che. But I doubt it is something that he may know firsthand. How frustrating it is that I cannot even properly relay the information to the Boyle clan¡ªif they are even in Toscana, to begin with. There may not even be a living Boyle left, or perhaps they live in another part of the galaxy. Either way, it would be difficult to approach a relative and inform them of his passing¡ªthere¡¯s no telling he has had any positive relation with people in his past, pre-pirate life. ¡°As shameful as it is to admit,¡± I say, reaching into my poncho to lay the crimson bandanna in my hands, ¡°I have very little knowledge about Boyle¡¯s past affairs regarding his family,¡± I glance at Olga and Brutus before continuing, ¡°I ask that you store the body for us until further notice. I¡ªor the gentleman Simon will have the body transported down to L¨¹beck for proper burial.¡± ¡°Not here, Madame?¡± Brutus asks, rather surprised. Olga is puzzled, too. ¡°I think it will be more meaningful to have a cemetery for the fallen at L¨¹beck, rather than here,¡± I answer, continuing to stroke and toil the bandanna, ¡°when Jung left the mafia, he settled on the planet¡ªnot here, I feel it is only right that he and the rest of the fallen are laid to rest there¡ªtogether,¡± I wrap the decorated handkerchief up and slide it into my poncho before getting up, ¡°I also believe a burial ground will be at far less risk of vandalism. The people here still resent us¡ªand that kind of enmity will linger for a very long time,¡± I say, a little more quiet this time. I glance over at the doctor, who removes the patient¡¯s oxygen mask and sets it aside. Cure is stoic¡ªbut there is a sense of regret in his eyes. The futility of being helpless saving a precious life. ¡°Regrettable, indeed,¡± doctor Cure says casually. The doctor then procures a cloth from his lab coat and carefully sets it over Maximilian¡¯s face. ¡°I¡¯ll have one of my assistants arrange the body for later. And for the time being¡­?¡± Cure asks, his gaze remains fixated on the Baltit pilot¡¯s covered face. There is silence among us, and Cure glances at me before continuing, ¡°if you wish to pay your respects to Mr. Boyle for a little longer, I will hold off on moving the body until then,¡± doctor Cure says solemnly. I throw a brief look at Olga and Brutus before I respond. ¡°I don¡¯t think¡­¡± I stammer, resting my hand on the bed¡¯s cold steel frame, ¡°I don¡¯t think it is something that Maximilian would want¡­ to have me stay here and anguish over his demise forever. That is not a way to honor his sacrifice. I want to have him laid properly¡ªas with all the others. It is only through that that I can honor his sacrifice¡ªand everyone else as well.¡± I want to step away, but I can¡¯t bring myself to do it. The hesitation remains strong. Is it regret over not being able to pay respects to Julius, who was not fortunate enough to have anybody in his final moments? Reaching inside for his bandanna, I let out a sigh of frustration. Not just Julius, but the countless dozens who never had the chance of comfort in their final moments. Emmanuel, Jung, the soldiers at Malabo and Baltit, the many who have perished at Rouen¡­ where were I when they uttered their dying breath? I lift the cloth from Maximilian¡¯s face, moving it away to caress his cheek. ¡°Please¡­¡± I mutter, grimacing a paralyzing smile, ¡°Maximilian¡­ I¡¯m sorry. I wish there was more I could do, but please¡­ rest easy, Maximilian¡­ knowing that everything we¡¯ve done was not in vain,¡± I finish with a shaking voice. I clear the lump in my throat and step away from both Max¡¯s bed and doctor Cure. I proceed with walking past my subordinates but stop without turning to face the doctor and the others. With a loud clearing of my voice, I begin to address them, ¡°mister Simon¡­ I¡¯ll fill him in on what has occurred, and I believe he¡¯ll handle the rest when it¡¯s time. And doctor¡­¡± I turn to face the trio, my gaze fixated on doctor Cure, with a deep bow, I continue ¡°for what it¡¯s worth, thank you for everything,¡± when I assume my posture, Cure only offers a weak smile and nods. And with that, Olga, me, and Brutus head outside. And to my surprise, I find Simon waiting for us against the hut¡¯s wall, arms crossed, with one hand resting on his chin. Rather than his usual sharp gaze, his eyes are half-open and he stares off into the distance. ¡°Master Simon¡­¡± Olga mutters, stroking her prosthetic arm. Simon releases a heavy sigh and pushes himself away from the hut. With his hands shoved in his pockets, the sly sage walks towards the horizon, his chin raised. After the spell of silence lingers for a while, Simon finally speaks, ¡°the boy¡¯s gone, huh?¡± Simon remarks, reaching for his cap and taking it off, holding it to his head. ¡°That boy was a trooper to hold out for as long as he did,¡± Simon continues, his gaze still fixated on the massive crater, ¡°it¡¯s a miracle you were with him to the very end, Li¡­¡± Simon says, before clearing his throat. ¡°Not many could have that privilege, you know,¡± he says. Without another word, I join him by the side. ¡°That damn Che¡­¡± Simon says under his breath, ¡°if only he knew what the pain he caused¡­ would he have gone through with it still?¡± ¡°Desperate times have desperate measures, Simon,¡± I remark, lightly tugging on his cloak, ¡°if either of us were in his position, what could either of us have done?¡± Simon doesn¡¯t respond and lowers his head. I place a hand on my chest and grasp my shirting before continuing, ¡°I¡¯m no better than Che. I¡¯ve made decisions that resulted in the deaths of so many talented people. Jung, Emmanuel¡­ and so many others have died because of my indecisiveness. Che¡¯s actions pale in comparison to mine.¡± ¡°Li¡­ I think that¡¯s enough,¡± Simon says, wrapping his arm around me, ¡°I think I understand¡­ sorry, I got a little ahead of myself. There are times where I lose myself, too,¡± Simon says, cutting loose a heavy utterance, ¡°I will talk to that doctor¡ªCure, was it? What an odd name for a man in this profession¡ªand arrange for a proper burial of Maximilian as well as the other recovered bodies your fleet may have,¡± a slight pause, then he speaks in a lower voice, ¡°if there happen to be any bodies left, anyway. As it would have it¡­¡± Simon steps away from me and walks towards his car, hands stuffed in pockets, ¡°I was intending on heading to L¨¹beck to¡­,¡± Simon stops in his tracks to look back at me, ¡°¡­settle some business with Miss Lee¡­ I feel I owe a bit of an apology to her, and Jean¡ª¡± ¡°Regarding Jean¡­¡± I cut him off, and he responds with a frown. It occurs to me that Simon is likely not aware of Jean¡¯s attack on me back on the Montepuez. ¡°Jean¡­ um, it might not be a good idea to visit her right about now. She has likely already made it to Jung¡¯s estate and informed Miss Frau of her husband¡¯s passing,¡± I caress my disfigured cheek and blow air through my nostrils, ¡°and in which case, I believe she will come off as hostile towards you.¡± ¡°I understand she may hold you responsible for Jung¡¯s death, but I¡¯m not sure what you¡¯re getting at,¡± Simon remarks. After taking the moment to inform him of Jean¡¯s retaliation aboard the Montepuez, Simon turns his back to me, shaking his head all the while. ¡°That is indeed rather unfortunate. Miss Jean was very endearing of Jung¡­ normally, I would keep my distance until she calms down. But I owe it to Miss Frau to deliver an earnest apology. It¡¯s the most I can do to be there for her when she delivers her baby¡ªif she hasn¡¯t already¡­¡± Simon then turns to face me again, ¡°and what about you, Li? What do you plan to do now? Return to your manor? You can join me if you wish¡­ though I don¡¯t know if Jean would appreciate that. ¡± I glance at Olga and Brutus, who has caught up to us. What shall I do indeed? Though the battles are over, I still have unfinished business. And yet, I feel if I move around now, it could mean rising suspicions with Kamon. Staying at the manor would be the ¡®safest¡¯ decision I can make, so to speak. I stroke my blemished cheek before breathing in heavily and exhaling through my nose. ¡°I will head out to pay a visit to those still at Baltit,¡± I state, to a collective shock, ¡°and to get any available information on Federation movement and activities in the Frankish Domain¡­ only then, can I be at real ease¡ªat least until the two fleets possibly link. But until then¡ª¡° ¡°I¡¯m sure you already deliberated on it,¡± Simon says, eyeing Brutus and Olga, ¡°but if Kamon so much suspects you have other plans in mind at Valspon¡­ she may get the wrong idea that you have a, er¡­ backup plan for a coup there,¡± he shoots a gaze at Brutus and Olga before leaning towards me, ¡°can you trust the two of them? Rather, are they aware of the consequence?¡± ¡°I¡¯m aware of the risks, and so are they, Simon,¡± I respond with a tingling grin, placing a hand on his chest, ¡°I¡¯m sure Kamon will raise a few eyebrows with me departing so soon¡­ and I¡¯m sure with you leaving for L¨¹beck as well, it will leave us in an uneasy position once we return. But so long as we don¡¯t act too suspicious, Kamon won¡¯t do a thing.¡± ¡°Well,¡± Simon wrinkles his forehead and straightens his back, ¡°well¡­¡± ¡°If you worry so much, you¡¯ll develop more wrinkles, Simon. And I don¡¯t think you look good with a wrinkly face when you¡¯re so young,¡± I remark, warmly. Simon steps back, with a scoffing shrug, and looks past me at Olga. ¡°Alright, well¡­ just take care, Li,¡± Simon says with a smile, ¡°and that goes for you two as well, since I take it you¡¯ll be joining her. I doubt anything will happen at Baltit¡­ but there might be hostile forces there and at Malabo, so please be careful.¡± ¡°Like a cautious pops¡­¡± Brutus muses from behind me. Simon, with fluster, glares at him, ¡°sorry! It was in jest, in jest.¡± ¡°Once I return,¡± Simon says, fixating his gaze on me, ¡°I imagine Zhui will likely hold a banquet in celebration of our victory¡­ so I doubt Kamon will want to raise any trouble anyway,¡± Simon inhales deeply and exhales just as heavily, ¡°the trouble we have to go through, eh?¡± ¡°Maybe Brutey is right, you are being a little cautious for your own good, p¡ª¡± I bite down on my lip to Simon¡¯s disbelief, and I only grimace a smile instead, ¡°In any case, we¡¯ll keep in touch, Simon. Rest assured, nothing will happen,¡± I finish. Simon simply shrugs and gives the three of us a nod. And with that, we part ways: Simon heads for his car, for the L¨¹beck settlement, and I depart with Olga and Brutus for Side Baltit. Chapter 86: Toscana Requiem | Due Grievousness
THE VALSPON STAR ZONE, EN ROUTE TO SIDE BALTIT
CARLA¡¯S SHUTTLE
Swarms of wreckage of various sizes drift past my seat¡¯s window, and it¡¯s a sight that compels me to lean forward to glimpse more of them. Many are Metropolitan, but there happens to be Mafia ship debris as well. It¡¯s a destruction that is all too familiar for me throughout my life. But compared to Abassi, and more recently the battle at Rouen, it is eerily here. Could it be the lack of asteroid clumps that makes me feel uneasy? The remnants of a battlefield long over, without so much of a cleanup on our part? Peering at the ruby-hued planet itself, I find it clear that Valspon¡¯s orbit will eventually become cluttered with man-made debris. I imagine the same will be said at Velksland, given the amount of carnage that unfolded there. How terrible that thousands of men will never so much as be put to proper rest: without a final rest in peace. A hand on my shoulder, as a certain oaf sighs on the window, creating a thick mist over the starry veil of space. ¡°Terrible, isn¡¯t it?¡± Brutus muses, over my shoulder still, ¡°such a waste of life. If only Che were better prepared¡­¡± ¡°It can¡¯t be helped,¡± I respond, leaning back into my seat, ¡°Che had no way of knowing what would happen. And to a greater extent neither did I¡ªnor Simon,¡± I rest against the seat, closing my eyes and exhaling heavily, ¡°with everything said and done, I understand now that I alone am responsible for his shortcomings. I vastly underestimated what the Metropolitans were capable of committing, particularly to an outer region like Toscana. It is by no small miracle that neither were coordinating their efforts, much less aware of the other¡¯s actions,¡± I say, stroking my disfigured cheek. Brutus, horrified, is taken back. Even if I did perhaps advise Che and his subordinates to set up something akin to an early warning parameter, it would still be futile. The same scenario would play out¡ªbut unlike the clever ruse at Rouen, the possibility of organizing a relief as I did would be nonexistent. I would¡¯ve been bogged down at Velksland, and Che would crumble at Valspon, paving way for a swift conquest of L¨¹beck. So to say it is a miracle given the way things have gone is an understatement of itself. ¡°They¡­ weren¡¯t¡­¡± he stammers, shaking his head, ¡°that¡¯s an understatement to say we were in a lucky position!¡± Brutus says, glancing at Olga, ¡°but how did you come to that conclusion?¡± I smile meekly, but before I get the chance to answer, Olga answers in my stead. ¡°The¡­ blonde officer from that ship, if I have to guess?¡± Olga surmises, stroking the end of her prosthetic arm, ¡°Miss¡­ Vitoria¡­ er, Schlapp,¡± Olga remarks, absentmindedly. ¡°Blonde?¡± Brutus asks, turning to face me¡ªuncomfortably close for my liking. His brows furrow, and then Brutus¡¯s mouth forms a perfect O, and he gives a small nod. ¡°Ah¡­ right, I remember now. The young officer assumed control and helped the enemy fleet to withdrawal. That was the woman you met after the Fed fleet evacuated from Valspon, wasn¡¯t it? On the Yilan, I mean. ¡± ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± I say, cupping my hands together, ¡°we trusted each other. I had no reason to doubt her, and I suspect she had no reason to doubt me. The massacre that unfolded here could have been far worse if not for Miss Victoria.¡± Brutus seems to be lost in contemplation, staring out to the remains of the starry battlefield. Before long, he clears his throat before speaking, ¡°was it the right thing to do letting them slip away with such a manageable force?¡± Brutus asks, ¡°when they might just launch an invasion again once the Metropol admiral is briefed about what happened here?¡± ¡°Brutey¡­¡± Olga interjects, shuffling in her seat. Our eyes meet briefly. Brutus leans forward to rest his arms on his knees. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to bring up the point back on the Montepuez¡­,¡± Brutus clears his throat, ¡°but I¡¯m sure it was something that most of us had in mind at the time. I think what I want to get at is¡­ it could come back to bite us in the ass, Li,¡± Brutus says. Both he and Olga exchange glances awaiting my answer, ¡°and of course, in my case¡­ I didn¡¯t think to object to your decision during the battle itself,¡± a pause, ¡°or rather, I couldn¡¯t bring myself to do it. I think back then, during the Fed withdrawal here, I didn¡¯t think much of it. You knew what you were doing, and what use would it do to complain about your decision after the fact?¡± ¡°Brutey¡­¡± Olga mumbles, wincing at his words. I want to assure her that it is fine for Brutus to vent, but I remain silent so Brutus can continue. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± the big oaf says, rubbing his forehead, ¡°it¡¯s not right for me to criticize you, isn¡¯t it? I¡¯ve done a lot of that already. It feels like most of the interactions I¡¯ve had with you are criticizing you in some way, Madame¡­¡± Brutus says, trailing off. I rest a hand on his and gently caress it. ¡°There¡¯s no need to be guilty about it, Brutus. I see it as a genuine concern,¡± I say, glancing at Olga but she averts her eyes, ¡°but just as I told that father of mine, I have faith that the Federation will want to avoid another catastrophe. The admiral is a man of honor, and judging from his decision to withdrawal from Rouen, and despite his overwhelming superiority and complete disregard for his safety, he has decided to concede defeat entirely. I am confident the admiral is a better man compared to the naval commander that invaded us here. And as for letting them withdrawal with most of their fleet intact¡­¡± for a brief moment, my mind goes blank. I can¡¯t think as to why I would do that¡ªlet such a still-formidable force go free here at Valspon. By all accounts, to ensure even absolute security on this side of the realm, I should have annihilated every last ship. I went as far as to massacre the independent detachment that was heading for Ides, but I allowed Miss Happ¡¯s detachment on two occasions¡ªand the rest of her force to retreat without harassment. Why? Why would I do such a thing? ¡°Meeting that blonde must have made you realize something, Madame,¡± Olga says, ¡°whatever the two of you discussed¡ªshe seemed to have changed your perspective on life.¡± ¡°Self-preservation,¡± I reply wryly, stroking the center of my aching brow, ¡°I was merciful because the blonde officer has done what no other officer I¡¯ve faced before has done¡ªshe sought to preserve her own life and those that served with her. Not in a cowardly way¡ª¡° I pull Julius¡¯s bandanna before continuing ¡°she wanted to avoid a bloodbath as much as I wanted to topple my father¡¯s regime and avoid needless conflict. She believed that her superior¡¯s actions were illegal, unjust, in a sense. And perhaps¡­ perhaps I felt sympathetic for her. ¡°And in a way, she did what I couldn¡¯t at Brunsb ¨¹ttel¡ª avoid an even greater loss of life. I have nothing but respect for the young officer. I am sure that in some way or another, when the time may come, she can further convince the Metropol admiral of avoiding another confrontation in Toscana. So long as the Don avoids something rash that is¡­¡± ¡°Madame¡­¡± Brutus starts, he clears his throat, ¡°don¡¯t you think¡­ you¡¯re trusting this ensign a little too much?¡± That warrants turning to Brutus in disbelief, ¡°not to mention having too much faith that the Fed admiral won¡¯t change his mind about invading again¡­ he did say indefinitely, right? but that doesn¡¯t necessarily mean never,¡± Brutus remarks, lightly stroking the red handkerchief, ¡°he might see the better tactical advantage he may have if he links up in the Frankish realms, and then¡­¡± ¡°Brutus,¡± it¡¯s a more stern pronunciation from Olga. She grips her knee. Brutus cuts loose a deep sigh, and just as he opens his mouth to speak¡ªbefore I cut him off from the opportunity. ¡°I suppose¡­ in a way, I¡¯ve been too trusting. I have no other choice, after all,¡± I say, warmly, bearing a grimacing smile, ¡°if it comes to that, then there¡¯s nothing I can do but accept our fate. But I doubt the Metropol fleet would travel so far into the corners of the galaxy to challenge me,¡± I say. I pull lightly on the handkerchief, and Brutus lets it slip from his grasp. I then get off the leather seating and take a few steps to the center before turning to the other two. "I stand to reason they will perceive any further incursion into Toscana as costly for minimal gains¡­" I glance at Olga before continuing, "Olga''s surgical strike on their supply column might have more far-reaching strategical congruences than I may have suspected. It could have been their entire campaigning logistics corp that Olga sunk, or it could have been only half. Either way, it could be too impractical for the admiral or even Miss Happ''s commodore may consider. And with that said¡­ ¡°There is still that particular stronghold nestled in the Frankish Domain¡­¡± I pause, caressing my scarred brow with the bandanna, ¡°the name of it escapes my train of thoughts. But I do recall my father and its self-proclaimed ¡®Il Magnifico¡¯ did not get along because of either¡¯s stubbornness on giving up despotic powers. But that aside¡­ if what the ensign told me is true, then I can likely surmise that their fleet originally came to subjugate their Cluster rather than the Year 217 Mafia.¡± Brutus contemplates for a while, scratching his chin, ¡°you think they will redouble their collective efforts on them instead? The mercs over there in the Franks,¡± the oaf says leaning back in the leather car, stretching his arms on the chairs. It is a bit of a stretch: there could be ulterior motives to the deployment of Victoria¡¯s fleet there. Maybe the ensign might have not been too informed, either. In the end, I give a nod in response. "How can you be so sure?" Brutus asks, and unexpectedly he scoffs while scratching his neck, "I hope it doesn''t seem like I''m interrogating you too much, Madame," Brutus remarks slyly while glancing at Olga embarrassingly, "I''m just¡­ a little antsy about it, is all." Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. ¡°The mercenary groups there led by the ¡®Il Magnifico¡¯ have¡ªor at least had¡ª a formidable naval force, and their Clusters are regarded to have been fortress Sides,¡± I say, to the bewildered Olga and Brutus. ¡°Fortress Sides?¡± Brutus utters, throwing his arms off the chairs, and leans forward with one hand on his leg. ¡°I used to hear that actual Frankish settlements were armed to the teeth, but describing them as fortresses is another thing,¡± Brutus says. When it looks like Olga wants to speak, he gives her the go-ahead. ¡°You sound uncertain about their strength, given that you mentioned them in past tense,¡± Olga says ¡°it must mean that your knowledge of this mercenary stronghold must be a little dated at best. So to reiterate what Brutey asked: how did you know of this?¡± I turn my back to them and take a few paces towards the cockpit. With a glance at the windows, we are closer to our destination at Baltit: and it looks just as disturbing at the Side as it is near the planet. The mouth of its entrance is chipped off at points and there floats numerous assault shuttles and smaller remains of Mafia and Metropolitan ships. If I squint hard enough, I can even make out unfortunate corpse remains drifting in the Baltit¡¯s gravitation field. Friend or foe, I hope that we can bring these souls to proper rest. I turn away from the window to my subordinates. ¡°Informants,¡± I comment, stroking my shoulders, ¡°I¡¯ve always considered them a little shaky at best. But they are otherwise trustworthy sources¡­ supposedly sympathetic to the Mafia¡­ or perhaps speaking because of money.¡± ¡°Informants?¡± Olga inquires. But before I can answer, she sits up straight with eyes widened. ¡°You don¡¯t possibly mean¡­?¡± Brutus cocks his head at Olga, seemingly unable to understand what either of us is getting at. ¡°There exists¡ª¡°I pause, caressing my lips, ¡°or at least existed a network of spies operating on Kamon¡¯s orders. I happened to come across this information itself sometime after we lost contact with them.¡± ¡°The Madame¡­¡± Brutus clears his throat, ¡°on Madame Hwang¡¯s orders?¡± He asks, cupping a hand over his mouth. I nod, and Brutus slumps in his seat, his shoulders sag. ¡°What a fearsome woman, that Hwang,¡± the oaf says, rather grimly. Olga cuts a scoff while rubbing her neck, "the thought of her having such resources at her disposal sends a shiver down my spine. And in the Frankish region of all places! To think we were this close to openly confronting her at Brunsb ¨¹ttel only a few days ago," Olga says. She then folds her arms, pursing her lips, "you said you¡ªor, rather, Kamon¡ªlost contact with them: when was that?" Olga asks, "surely, if we had access to this network even a month ago we could''ve been better prepared, no?" Brutus nods in agreement. I take a seat, continuing to wrap the bandanna continuously over in my hands before speaking. ¡°It¡¯s evident to me that we lost contact with the network of informants at least a year ago, maybe a year and a half. As such, I¡¯ve been left in the dark regarding any monitoring on either the Frankish settlements themselves or Il Magnifico¡¯s mercenary strongholds¡­ much less any Metropolitan fleets in the area. And despite Kamon¡¯s efforts¡ª¡± I tilt my head to the cupola above ¡°she was unsuccessful in reestablishing communications with the informants. A process that she persisted on until half a year ago.¡± I was naive then and even now. I thought nothing of the loss of the informant ring back then: and yet it seems so obvious now. Though I do not know of the exact timing of the Metropol fleet¡¯s arrival, it could be that either Kamon cut off payment to them. Or, in likelihood, they voluntarily cut off communications to avoid drawing suspicions to themselves. Or, perhaps, still, they were apprehended by either Metropol or Frankish authorities. And I thought nothing of it. There were rumors of Terra initiating another campaign against piracy throughout its territories. Stragglers from subdued havens warned us of the approaching threat from Rouen¡ªinformation that the Don foolishly chose to ignore. In our minds, there was no way the Metropolitans would dare cross into the Rouen against such formidable odds. And yet¡­ when the Rouen threat did loom over us, there was not so much a word from the Frankish Domains¡ªfrom any potential stragglers from the Frankish mercenary strongholds. I truly believed I had nothing to worry about, and, as such, I foolishly told the Don that what we faced was the total commitment of the Metropolitan fleet at Rouen. And I paid dearly for the miscalculation. Brutus asks, with brows raised, ¡°could it be that the mercenary strongholds are already wiped out, then?¡± Olga looks at him in surprise. It seems she had the thought as well. "It could be¡­ but at the same time, it''s likely Miss Victoria''s fleet prioritized us over them," I remark "the Commodore''s flotilla seemed¡­ small, and unaccustomed to actual naval combat. Notwithstanding that it was divided into separate squadrons. On the other hand, the informant reports I read indicated their mercenary fleet had better quantity¡ªbut perhaps not so much in quality," I say. When it looks like the two have nothing more to say, I stand up and smile meekly at the two, bearing the aching pain. "Once we arrive in the Baltit, I will discuss with Sergi, since he took it upon himself to monitor the Metropolitan movement in Bordeaux. If it''s evident that the Metropolitans withdrawal further into the Frankish Realms, then I believe we will have nothing to worry about¡ªwe can rest easy," I say, holding my arms out. The two murmurs, but don''t object and give nods. In truth, though, it¡¯s all I can do. And it¡¯s all I hope we have to do¡­ because if the Don gets any ambitions, then I will be doomed. "Well, well, aren''t you three just real chatty?" The voice of Carla reels me around, she has been leaning against the cockpit door but pushes herself towards us. "Brute here is popular with the ladies I see, I''m jealous!" She glares past me in Brutus''s direction, and I can''t help but sneak a glance at a nervously smiling Brutus. "Anyway, the shuttle is programmed to navigate and descend into the harbor. We should be inside any moment now," she holds up a hand, "but you don''t need to buckle back in for it, though. There''s no danger of you splattering on the ceiling," she chuckles at her dark humorless joke, "I imagine you guys might want to get up and stretch anyway," Carla says. Carla then excuses herself and proceeds back into her cockpit¡ªbut stops just after passing me. ¡°Carla?¡± I ask. Her hazel eyes fall on the bandanna I wring in my hands. She averts her gaze, briefly, before turning to face me directly. She squints in pain, looking me in the eyes. ¡°That¡­ that bandanna,¡± Carla stammers quietly. She extends a hand out, ¡°may¡­ I see it?¡± I grip it tightly, and without another word, I reach out, slowly, and place it folded in her hands. For a moment, she does nothing, but she slowly curls her hand into a ball, squeezing it tightly. I cut a heavy sigh cup her hand with both of mine. It¡¯s only momentarily, however, since Carla pulls away the next second. With her back to us, Carla¡¯s head hangs low as she seemingly holds the red handkerchief close to her, and she remains like this even as the Side colony overshadows us. ¡°Juley¡­¡± Carla finally breaks the silence, ¡°I always wondered where he was after that battle in¡­¡± the pilot¡¯s voice cracks a little, but she clears her throat and tries again, ¡°that loud, impolite, rude, annoying, bratty smart ass wasn¡¯t anywhere,¡± she inhales deeply after the long-winded insults, ¡°and before I knew it, I started to hate the Castelforte¡¯s pilot resting facility. It was so¡­ quiet. So devoid of nosiness, and none of the other pilots seemed to know where he was,¡± Carla says, slowly turning to face me. The bandanna is held tightly to her chest with both hands, ¡°Juley¡­ why¡­ why do you have his bandanna?¡± Carla asks, her voice trembling all the same, ¡°the guy wouldn¡¯t give it up even if it meant the world. He wouldn¡¯t even wash the damn thing¡­ and it always stunk up the facility!¡± ¡°Carla¡­¡± Brutus says, attempting to get up. But the creasing of the leather chair tells me that Olga is trying to keep him down, at least. ¡°He acts like your chauffeur, right?¡± Carla asks, taking a step forever, the sorrow in her eyes only grows larger with each step, ¡°why else would you have me haul you around, right?¡± I can¡¯t bring myself to look into those eyes anymore. Carla takes another closer¡ªand I take a step back. Before long, I am backed to the wall, and Carla¡¯s breathing becomes heavier. Behind Carla, I hear the groaning of the seats as Brutus attempts to hold Olga down in return. I close my eyes, gritting my teeth, expecting Carla to lash out at me¡ªexplaining why Olga would get unsettled watching the two of us. But it never comes¡ªnothing happens. Carla¡¯s unwelcoming breath brushing off my skin gets tamer. I open my eyes to her backing off. ¡°I always knew he was a reckless idiot,¡± Carla says, turning around, ¡°I told him to be careful, and no matter how many times I chastised him, Juley¡­¡± Carla¡¯s voice trails off. The pilot then turns away from us, unwrapping the bandanna to wipe her face with. Carla turns around and approaches me again. Her now wet, reddish eyes look into mine¡ªbut it is not one of contempt, or at least I would think. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ sorry,¡± I say, weakly, ¡°it was too late¡­ if I had realized sooner, he would still be with us¡­ ¡±I clench my fist, gritting my teeth again, ¡°if I didn¡¯t have to resort to shuttle couriers¡­¡± Carla cuts me off by placing a hand on my shoulder¡ªand to my surprise pulls me toward her in an embrace. Her arms wrap around my neck tightly, and she buries her head, wetting my neck. ¡°There was no helping it,¡± Carla croaks ¡°Juley wouldn¡¯t want us to lament over it¡­ none of them would, right?¡± Carla says, after a gasp of air. The pilot takes a step back and seems to head off into the cockpit before stopping again. She holds the bandanna up, staring at it intently, her hand trembles. She wipes her watery eyes and storms off towards me, making me stiffen against the wall once more. Without another word, Carla presses the bandanna on my chest. I look up at her, and she only offers a gentle, but slight, smile. ¡°Carla¡­?¡± ¡°I think¡­¡± she clears her throat, again wiping her irritable eyes, ¡°I think Juley would want you to have it. If I keep possession of it,¡± she presses it to my chest harder, ¡°it¡¯ll only make me depressed with what could have been,¡± Carla chokes. I caress her hand, and she lets go of the bandanna as it slips into my hands. ¡°Sorry,¡± she says ¡°that was a little-winded¡­¡± she glances at Brutus and Olga, forcing a grin before taking a few more steps back towards her cockpit door, ¡°I¡­ didn¡¯t mean to ruin the moment between everyone,¡± Carla says, taking slow breaths of air. ¡°You did no such thing, Carla,¡± I shake my head, ¡°there¡¯s no need to worry about it,¡± I say, warmly, taking a few steps towards her and holding one of her hands. Similarly, I wipe away the wetness from her eyes, caressing her soaked cheek in the process. Carla takes a few more short, intense breaths through her nostrils, giving me a gentle nod. I take a step away, and Carla gives us one last look before heading off into the cockpit¡ªthe door slides quietly behind her. I drag myself over to Brutus and Olga, sitting down quietly adjacent to Brutus, and slump forward with the crimson bandanna. I look up at the two sorry-looking subordinates, and I open my mouth to speak¡ª A loud, metallic thud from the cockpit jolts the three of us in place. Brutus is the first to get up, and he rushes over to the door. There¡¯s another metallic thud, followed by muffled whimpers. The oaf looks like he is about to force the door open¡ªbut I grab him by the shoulder¡ªtugging at his sleeve. ¡°Let her be, at least for the time being,¡± I tell him, my voice faint enough to hear over the wailing, ¡°I¡¯ve made things difficult for her¡­ I think she needs some time to herself,¡± I say, tugging at his sleeve harder. Brutus ignores me at first, tightening his grip on the door. But eventually, the oaf sags his shoulders and relents. Brutus rips himself from the door and I follow him back to our seats, where I hold the damp cloth close to my chin, anxiously biting down it. Julius¡­ Carla, I¡¯m sorry. Chapter 87: Toscana Requiem | Elegy, with Love I lean forward in my seat, hands clasped together. For one reason or another, I don¡¯t pass the time looking out the shuttle. Perhaps the confrontation with Carla makes me uneasy¡ªand indeed, the aching in my stomach makes me unsettled. Or it¡¯s anxiety from coming out here to inspect the aftermath at Baltit. Whichever the case, I sit here and twiddle my thumbs on the soft red texture of the bandanna. The sobbing stemming from the pilot compartment stopped some time ago. There is only the gradual hum of the craft¡¯s engines. The shuttle comes to a subtle stop. Without glancing outside, I can surmise the shuttle is hovering, judging from the engine humming becoming more of a mechanical whine tells me the craft is beginning its vertical landing. It¡¯s not long after that there is a faint thud as I am lurch in my seat. Olga and Brutus unbuckle themselves once both take glances out of the shuttle. Olga gets up, stretches her prosthetic arm¡ªa brief wincing as she presses her arm against her chest¡ªand then promptly walks over to the rear shuttle door. Olga doesn¡¯t get the chance to reach the door, however, once it hisses. From its cracks comes a cloud of near-transparent smoke indicating decompression. After this brief process, the ramp door swings downward as it emits a low-pitch whine. ¡°From the cockpit?¡± Brutus asks, folding his arms while looking past me at the door. ¡°She didn¡¯t have to do that¡­¡± ¡°I imagine Miss Carla wants us gone sooner rather than later,¡± Olga says, meeting eyes with me, ¡°I think¡­ she wants some additional privacy.¡± ¡°That seems¡­ like something she would do,¡± Brutus says, scratching his head, ¡°you two can head out. I¡¯ll stay back and try to get through to her. It wouldn¡¯t be the first time I have to do it, anyway,¡± Brutus says, beginning to walk towards the door. He holds a fist up, intending to knock on the metallic door. ¡°Your heart is in the right place,¡± Olga remarks, ¡°but I think it wouldn¡¯t be appropriate¡­¡± ¡°Brutus¡­ is free to do what he wants,¡± I say softly, slipping the bandanna into my poncho sleeve. I heave myself from the seat and proceed towards the ramp. ¡°If Brutus wishes to try and calm her down, provide her some comfort, then I see no problem with it,¡± I say, gazing at the somewhat misty ramp leading outside, ¡°it is not as though we would be upsetting her that much. Isn¡¯t that right, Brutey?¡± Brutus winces at the jab. He rests an arm on the cockpit door, then his head. ¡°It¡¯s my fault for not informing Carla of his passing,¡± Brutus says, rather laconically, ¡°the two of us had a history with the guy, and yet, I couldn¡¯t bring myself to tell her. I didn¡¯t want to hurt her¡­¡± Brutus lifts his head from the surface ¡°but I ended up hurting Carla more by not letting her know. Julius meant a lot to her¡­ even if everything Carla said about him was spot-on. ¡°I didn¡¯t know what was the right thing to do. So I guess what I¡¯m trying to say is, I think I owe Carla a bit of an apology¡ªI think the least I can do is shoulder a bit of her suffering,¡± Brutus says, lightly tapping on the cockpit door, ¡°I just¡­ hope you have it in you to let me do that, Carla,¡± Brutus says, clearing his throat. The oaf glances at us with pained, half-squinting eyes. For a moment, I can¡¯t bring myself to move, but Olga reaches out for me and tugs on my poncho sleeve. And eventually, I give Brutus a nod of acknowledgment, then proceed onto the ramp with Olga. The lingering mist is thick and heavy, and I pull my mantle to my face to avoid the steam from causing my facial scar from getting agitated. ¡°If you want to stay behind as well, Olga, I won¡¯t stop you. Nor would I mind in the slightest,¡± I say to the lanky blonde ¡°it¡¯s not something I would take personally,¡± I finish. Olga only shakes her head. ¡°No, I don¡¯t want to get between the two,¡± the blonde responds, ¡°and I¡¯ll only be acting as a third wheel in a situation where I¡¯d contribute nothing. I can be more at ease and useful following you around, Madame,¡± I frown. But it¡¯s not because of the usual annoyance of Olga addressing me by the Madame moniker. ¡°Third wheel?¡± I ask, prompting an unwarranted grin from Olga. Just as Olga begins to speak, however, our ears ring from the mechanical groaning of the shuttle cargo door as it swings upward, closing behind us. The swift motion results in a gust of wind dissipating the cloudy mist, clearing our field of vision. And what I see before me in the harbor leaves me breathless. I¡¯ve visited Baltit once before, a few years ago. At that time, the capital Side was home to a steadily prosperous harbor¡ªpossibly the fastest-growing under the Mafia¡¯s rule. Its facilities were second-to-none to that of Brunsb¨¹ttel. Grand barges and mighty merchant vessels reminiscent of their Frankish counterparts were always leaving the harbor at some point or another, overflowing with goods heading off for faraway destinations such as the L ¨¹beck capital Clusters. Merchants and civilians would go about with their business, living comfortable lives. And now, it is an unprecedented carnage. Enormous craters scar the harbor. Broken concrete and steel debris lie discarded for as far as I can see. Battlements, now partially in the process of dismantlement, still tell a tale of undeniable resistance. The harbor surface, once glistening with obsidian, is now decaying red¡ªvivid still, but caked in nature. And yet, still, the horrors continue, long after the fighting has ended: there is still work to be done. A return to normalcy¡ªa time to heal¡ªone that will take time. Walking through the charred landscape is the occasional bagged corpse¡ªoccasionally, some are merely covered with tanned ponchos. Survivors here and there pay their respects to their brethren and spare what little energy they have to mourn. Others are more solemn: salutes, and more often than not placing flowers on the blanketing cloaks. Most of the bagged remains are still in the process of being carted off into either Baltit itself for proper burial or lay loaded in shuttles likely intended for a final resting place at Side Brunsb¨¹ttel or L ¨¹beck. But given the lack of shuttles capable of doing so, it does seem to be a slow process. I kneel by one of the deceased covered in two ponchos: one tanned and the other charcoal. With some reluctance, I pull the charcoal one covering the top. A heavily bandaged head, by now dyed a deep scarlet. Dashes of blood, since dried, give slight color to his otherwise drained features. Their eyes and lips¡ªjust as pale blue¡ªare just as immobile as their limbs. The man¡¯s soul since long departed to greater planes of existence. And yet, there is nothing romantic about his corpse, nor his struggle. Death is death. His soul has been claimed by death, and what remains is a tragedy. This victim¡ªas well his brothers and sisters¡ªwere compelled to fight a battle they were never meant to win, only a sacrifice to buy time. This what it meant to be a pirate, to be a crooked criminal fighting an enemy who they believe is giving no excuses, no mercy. Every man and woman they killed in self-defense meant securing their attained liberties¡ªnot just for themselves, but for their found family. And yet, this unfortunate soul¡ªlike all the others¡ªmet with an untimely fate. Their bid to save themselves failed¡ªbut it is not all fruitless. Their staunch defense held out in time for a Federation withdrawal. They risked their lives, braving assaults after another not to fight and kill, but to save one another. But what use is bravery¡­ what use is there risking your life if you do not live long enough to bear witness to what you have truly fought for? I get up from the corpse¡ªOlga carefully kneels to whisper something before pulling the poncho up¡ªtowards the Baltit¡¯s entrances. Being on one of the harbor¡¯s lower levels, I observe past the sloped railing a graveyard of assault ships. Occasionally, corvette-class Metropolitan ships extend as far as I can see into the enormous tunnel networks. Hover shuttles with searchlights probe over the metallic husks in some of the tunnel ways. But it¡¯s what¡¯s located in the vast space just below that causes my heart to sink: a vast empty area painted red, with rivers of blood oozing from a recklessly stacked pile of corpses. There are even still bodies being carted¡ªand in some disheartening cases, outright dragged¡ªfrom the tunnel areas. There are even those, still, that remain where they fell. I¡¯m gritting my teeth before I know it. Olga slips her hand over mine¡ªand it occurs to me that I¡¯ve been straining my grip on the metallic railing. Without another word, Olga plants her other hand on my shoulder. This bloodshed is as barbaric as it is stupid: it is beyond being evil and cruel. There are reasons that come with reasons to kill, yet regardless of who we belong to, we are driven by insatiable bloodlust. Humans were born to love: not devolve into monsters born of our creation. Even in grief, we wish for peace¡­ and reconciliation with those we perceived as ¡®enemies¡¯. All we¡ªwe as in the Federation, we as in the mafia: we as in those fighting in the false belief we are fighting for each other¡­ but rather to fight for those who don¡¯t share the sorrow themselves. All we have accomplished here, at Velksland, and Rouen is continue a cycle of warfare nearly as old as time itself. What would it take for love to conquer all? ¡°Seems we have some company, Madame,¡± Olga says, pulling away. I follow her pointing out a dullish-green utility vehicle pulling to a stop by us. Driving it is Darcy, with my half-brother Che in the passenger seat. The man pays no attention to us, remaining deep lost in thought while sucking on his typical oak-rolled cigar. ¡°Madame!¡± Darcy says, eyes wide, ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware you would be coming out here so soon. We were still in the process of mopping up Feddie stragglers,¡± Darcy says. The auburn-haired subordinate braces against the railing next to me, opposite of Olga. She follows my gaze at the distasteful sight of Metropolitan corpses, and the three of us notice an approaching column of Metropol prisoners marching up the pathway leading up to our harbor level. ¡°If I had known you were coming, er,¡± Darcy glances at Che, who has yet to join us still, ¡°I would¡¯ve tried and had the boys speed up the process. That way we wouldn¡¯t have to risk you getting shot down, and¡ª¡° ¡°What are you going to do with the prisoners?¡± I ask, and even the tenseness in my voice catches me off guard. I inhale deeply, lessening my grip on the rustic barrier. Most of the prisoners are halfway on our level by now, and it¡¯s when glimpsing past Che do I realize there were dozens of additional Metropolitan prisoners near a shuttle. Squinting, I can make out this group, like the first, is held under armed supervision. Darcy has yet to say anything and averts her gaze. ¡°They¡¯re being sent to the capital, aren¡¯t they?¡± Olga asks in place of Darcy answering. Darcy taps the iron bar, resting her head on her cupped hands. ¡°The men wanted to kill them outright,¡± Darcy remarks, pressing into her knuckles, ¡°but Richter objected¡­ and then Sergi and Che agreed as well. They viewed it as inhumane,¡± she pulls herself up, taking a heavy exhale, ¡°in the end, the others decided it would be better to wait until you eventually came¡­¡± a pause, ¡°they¡­ or at least Richter, decided that you will have the final say handling them,¡± Darcy says. Without another word, I step away from the railing. My gaze falls on the marching column joining together their allies at the shuttle. Some fall by the wayside and are beaten with rifle butts. Repulsive. Both Darcy¡¯s comment and the treatment of prisoners are heinous. I turn away, caressing my scar tingling at the nose. Inhumane. They view sending them off to the capital as inhumane. I would figure Richter of all people¡ªand Che, to be aware of what sending Metropol prisoners to the capital entails. Metropolitans and colonial sailors are as good as dead the moment their commanding officer even dares to contemplate the idea of surrendering. In the past, I would¡¯ve permitted any captors to be executed if it meant avoiding meeting an excruciating fate at the hands of the Don. Before the battle at Velksland, and perhaps even my meeting with Victoria, I always believed I was doing them a favor to avoid a coward¡¯s demise. I believed that no quarters was a preferable method, even if it meant I would be labeled as a devil. But now, for the first time, after opening my eyes thanks to Victoria, I have no idea what it means to be humane. I rub my shoulders as iciness sweeps over me. There¡¯s time later to reflect on this dilemma. I glimpse at Che before reeling to face Darcy and Olga. ¡°Richter is here?¡± I ask, clearing my throat and rubbing my chin, ¡°I lost sight of him after we left Velksland¡­ Sergi¡¯s presence is a given, but what business does Richter have here?¡± ¡°Well,¡± Darcy begins, ¡°I was equally just as surprised when Richty came, but¡ª¡° Darcy is drowned out by engine crackle¡ªthen tire screeching. I turn to watch the gray eminence and the gruff Sergi step off the back of their cart, exchange some words with Che, and approach us. ¡°Speak of the devil, and he shall come,¡± Olga says, warmly. Both men briefly slap their chests with balled fists. ¡°You came down here sooner than expected, Madame,¡± Sergi remarks, rubbing his clawed face, ¡°I know everyone¡¯s a little on edge, but¡­ I was expecting you to, well¡­ relax a bit. You need a well-deserved rest more than any of us,¡± Sergi scoffs, ¡°you just couldn¡¯t trust me monitoring the situation by my lonesome? Well¡­¡± Sergi trails off with a glance at Richter. ¡°You could say I am a little restless, Sergi,¡± I say, wincing a grin, ¡°I wanted to visit and pay my respects to the brave defenders of the Baltit. Though I will say part of my purpose coming here is to see for myself the Metropolitan movements in Bordeaux. Only then can I find myself sleeping contently,¡± I remark with a stinging smirk. I then shift attention to Richter, ¡°I was about to ask Darcy why you¡¯re here, Richter. Not that it particularly troubles me¡­ but I fail to see why you would come to the Baltit. As far as I¡¯m concerned, you reside at Ides, do you not?¡± Richter¡¯s eyes narrow, then he nods. ¡°The reason is no different from yours,¡± Richter says ¡°Sergi here is good in his own right¡­ though, when I arrived, both Serg and Che had very little manpower to properly keep an eye on the Feds.¡± ¡°I wish you would give me just a little credit,¡± Sergi says. He lets out a scowl, provoking Olga to nudge him in the ribs. Richter chuckles. He then begins to speak, ¡°I brought along some of my ships that volunteered for the opportunity. Originally, it was one of my subordinate¡¯s suggestions to supplement Sergi¡¯s observation teams sent out¡­ by that Kafraiya fellow, Dontae. He¡¯s currently leading the elements at Malabo right now, providing more accuracy in Fed activity,¡± Richter says, before smiling warmly, ¡°I doubt it will alarm the Feds too much¡ªseeing as their presence on our border has become rather minimal over the past few days.¡± ¡°Minimal¡­?¡± I mutter, stroking my bandanna from within the poncho. The heavy weight on my shoulders nearly diminishes with a heavy sigh of relief, ¡°Sergi, Richter¡­¡± I begin, ¡°does this mean,¡± the words linger in my thoughts, unable to be processed, ¡°am I to take this that the Metropol fleet is retreating¡­ even from the Preuben system?¡± I pause to stroke the edge of my jaw scar, my tongue dry, ¡°am I right in this assumption?¡± Richter and Sergi exchange glances before Sergi steps forward. ¡°It¡¯s likely¡­¡± the gruff subordinate sighs, ¡°information is still shaky since if we probe their positions too much, it might spark an incident. But from what the newest report indicates,¡± Sergi glances at Richter, ¡°the majority of the Feds¡ªmight¡ªbe evacuating for Iswanda,¡± Sergi says. Iswanda¡­ regardless of which system they leave for, the only thing I take away from this is they are heading to prepare for action against the Brenaco mercenary haven. Is it a stretch? Yes, perhaps. Logically, they have little reasoning as-is to, so to speak, abandon Preuben. wouldn''t stay in the system otherwise. Admiral DeRyck¡¯s decision is one thing: Victoria¡¯s Commodore is another. That man acted on what Victoria regarded as ¡®fame and glory¡¯. What¡¯s to say he isn¡¯t recouping to take advantage of us at a later point in time? As it stands, there is a good likelihood he has received intelligence from his Admiral. But it could also mean he still has no idea whatsoever. And so¡­ once that time comes, I pray that DeRyck will continue to keep his word. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. I only realize now my balance is off: my legs are wobbly. Olga must¡¯ve taken notice and rushes to wrap her prosthetic arm around mine to keep me steady. ¡°Madame?¡± Richter asks, nervously. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about me,¡± I mutter ¡°if you have anything more to say, then please, continue,¡± I finish rather dryly. I¡¯m still attempting to keep my balance stable off Olga. Richter, after a moment, continues speaking. ¡°I will remain here for the next few days until there is total certainty that the Metropolitans aren¡¯t formulating a ruse of some sort. And then¡­ only then, will I leave Sergi and Che here to their devices.¡± ¡°Will you be heading home for Ides?¡± I ask. Richter takes a deep breath and cuts past us towards the railing: hands clasped behind his back. ¡°No,¡± comes the answer, Richter breathes in heavily, ¡°Simon informed me he was heading to L¨¹beck¡¯s surface to arrange for the burial of our fallen¡­ and I will likewise do the same for Emmanuel. Dontae offered to go, too, so I¡¯ll have him relieved of duties and come with me. And after that,¡± Richter turns to face us, smiling handsomely, ¡°only then will I retire to Ides. I¡¯ve always been fond of music, you see. When I was younger, I loved and trained for the piano¡­ so I will spend what free time I may afford to play music for the people of Ides,¡± Richter says. I smile warmly, ignoring the burning aches. ¡°Will you be taking Dontae under your wing? When you return to Ides, I mean,¡± I ask. ¡°No,¡± is Richter¡¯s response, ¡°I will let the boy do as he pleases. In any event, I reckon he will simply assume the duties of the Kafraiya ¡ªor even a ship of his own, with your blessing. ¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be more than happy to afford him the right of captaincy,¡± I reply, caressing my long bangs, ¡°I do hope that you will pay a visit to L¨¹beck every once in a while¡­ I would love to hear your melodies,¡± I say warmly. Richter turns and gives a heartfelt grin. ¡°Now, then¡­¡± I clear my throat with a cough, ¡°and while we¡¯re on the subject of burials¡­ please do what you can to properly lay the deceased to proper rest,¡± gazes of bafflement in response, ¡°they may have killed our own¡ªbut we are all humans, in the end, bounded by needless oaths to men no less greater than them. ¡°I also would like that any prisoners¡ªcurrent or those yet to be found¡ªto be treated accordingly, as well. That is to be expressed as a direct order from me¡ªand if I ever hear reports of further brutality, I will make sure that no punishment goes unheeded,¡± I say. The subordinates murmur in acknowledgment, and I glance at Che who continues to brood in his vehicle. ¡°I¡¯ll discipline the men as best as I can, rest assured,¡± Sergi remarks, crossing his arms, ¡°now that we have that out of the way¡ªhopefully¡ªare you going to stay long, Madame?¡± Since my intention here is to pay my respects to the survivors and the fallen¡ªwhich it seems they are scattered about, and hard at work clearing the harbor. There would be no point in lingering around here any longer. I worry the longer I stay here, Kamon¡¯s suspicion may get the best of us. Though I dare not say it out loud: Richter would be one thing, Che is another, not to mention any informants acting on Kamon¡¯s orders may be about. ¡°My, you want me out of your presence that badly, Sergi?¡± I say, rubbing my marred cheek. Sergi scoffs. Olga, sensing the chance again, nudges him on the side. Though, I do understand why he would ask in the first place: it¡¯s more of a cue to return without inconveniencing the rest of them. ¡°I believe my visit here is more or less concluded. Though, I wish to look around for a while before Olga and I make our leave back to Brunsb¨¹ttel,¡± with a small wave, I excuse myself from Richter, Darcy, and Sergi. Olga gives some remarks to the trio before joining me. As I pass by Che¡¯s vehicle, I stop once my brother loudly clears his throat. Focused as I am on the train of prisoners near the shuttle transports, I eventually break off my gaze. I lean against the side of the cart opposite Che. ¡°I couldn¡¯t help but notice something¡­¡± Che says coolly, ¡°the only ones who came with you were that Brutus boy, and Olga,¡± Che shifts in his seat. He flicks his cigar but does not take any whiffs from it. ¡°I take it you must know by now¡­ I sent a man¡ªa boy, bearing news of¡­ of¡­¡± Che exhales deeply, ¡°my¡ªour, misfortunes here at the Baltit. With the creaking of his seat, Che faces me with an uncertain brow, ¡°it¡¯s been eating away at me¡­ I have not heard back from that boy in days. I would expect no less a triumphant return from the lad. He was so full of spirit¡ªso eager to volunteer, and yet¡­¡± Che¡¯s voice, slightly trembling, trails off into silence. ¡°Maximilian, Boyle,¡± I mutter. Burnt ash from Che¡¯s cigar falls to the floor, ¡°that¡¯s what his name was,¡± there¡¯s no response from Che. He looks away, squinting, trying to make sense of what that entails. What the meaning of was implies. And like a bolt of realization, Che¡¯s eyes widen; his eyelids quiver. More of Che¡¯s cigar burns away until it is a stub. The ashen pile grows louder as the three of us take in the silence, until even the trail of smoke vanishes, snuffed out, like a human life: like Maximilian¡¯s final moments in this plane of existence. Then, slowly, Che takes his hat off, setting it aside on his seat. His large shoulders sag. He slouches, if only slightly. Che rests his knuckles on his chin. His eyes full of sorrow: but in the next moment are shut tight. Che rests both of his pale knuckles on his forehead. I reach out, placing a hand on his broad shoulder. ¡°What have I done?¡± Che mutters, a futile attempt at keeping his voice from cracking. I rub his shoulder, graciously, without another word. ¡°How could I have done something so horrible? Make all my men suffer for nothing?¡± ¡°You have done no wrong, Che,¡± I say, softly, ¡°it is by no fault of mine that bloodshed was spilled,¡± I squeeze his shoulder, ¡°it is a blunder that I shoulder alone¡ªmy miscalculations that brought about this mess. And thus, you were a victim,¡± my grip loosens until I let my arm drop freely, ¡°we were all victims. What happened here was unavoidable¡­ there was simply no helping it,¡± I say. I carefully push myself away from Che¡¯s cart, and turn to face my brother. ¡°Take care, Che,¡± I mutter, and with a glance at Olga, we begin walking towards the prisoner¡¯s shuttle. ¡°Madame¡­¡± Olga starts, ¡°about Che¡­¡± ¡°I will let him be, Olga,¡± I refute, ¡°I do not hold any contempt for him, as you should know by now,¡± Olga doesn¡¯t say any more for a while until we reach the prisoner column. Some of the guards posted nearby give us weary looks but hesitantly give us salutes. ¡°I do not think we should be so close,¡± Olga says leaning towards me, ¡°I am unarmed¡­ I fear that one of them may grab one of the guards by surprise and¡ª¡° I stop, resting a hand on her chest. ¡°Don¡¯t plant such needless thoughts in your head, Olga,¡± I say wryly, patting her, ¡°none would dare risk it, believe me,¡± Olga emits a sigh of disbelief, and merely gives a slight nod. Her narrow gaze never once leaves the Metropolitan soldiers we pass. Being this close to the prisoners leaves me with grief. It has only been five or six days since the conflict ended here, and already most of them are grungy. Their uniforms already in tatters, their faces unclean and covered in muck, heavy eye bags, and sullen cheeks perhaps from torture. It is a rare sight just seeing any of them shiver in coldness¡ªor perhaps the appearance of me has left them incredibly uneasy. Many have resigned to their fates as prisoners of pirates. Supposedly they say across the galaxy that I am ruthless. That I butcher any prisoners who dare surrender without a second¡¯s thought. They know that there¡¯s no rescue coming: that they will leave behind empty homes and grieving loved ones. They know that their children, their wives, and husbands, will never truly know what became of their fates. At best, they will be informed they died defending their grand Federation. They will sleep every night hoping that one day they will return, wondering why they never stopped them from leaving, living a life of regret knowing they said their last goodbyes. When they came here to confront the Mafia, they must¡¯ve known they would confront the Madame Scarface one way or another. They knew from the moment I came into the fray that there would be nothing left to send home. They knew they had only two choices: they either die in combat, honorably, or face execution if it means avoiding an inexplicably inhumane fate far worse at the capital, at the Don¡¯s lack of mercy. It was, in my eyes, the least inhumane gesture I could provide to captives. And it was my modus operandi for years. In some ways, I was the same. I had two choices of fighting a bloodied brawl that I had practically no chance of surviving, or deliver a coup and avoid fighting entirely: even if it meant I would still be held accountable and executed for my inhumane crimes. And even with that failure, I still face execution not by the Metropolitans but by the very foundation I vowed to protect¡ªby Kamon. I cast the die, crossed the Rubicon, and failed in my gambit. Like these men and women I wonder by aimlessly, we share, collectively a fate worse than death. And I stop in my tracks. Olga bumps into me but I pay no attention to it. Gazing through the legions of faces staring me down, soullessly, one individual stands out from the rest. A frail woman with flowing golden locks of hair. Brownish, dim eyes and quivering lips that dart to me and Olga. She, like the others, huddles with legs to her chest. The longer I glare at her, I am hit with brief euphoria that leaves me wondering: but does it have to be that way? Do I have to give these unfortunate souls the false choice of death? The words of Victoria echo in the back of my mind: why not flee into exile into the Frankish Domains? Exile. Fleeing Kamon¡¯s retribution. Even now I still think it would be impossible to do. In my absence, I figured, Kamon would just punish or execute the others. I¡¯d be leaving my comrades at her mercy, which there would be none. I could¡¯ve escaped with my life, but I could not say the same for my family¡ªthe ones I¡¯d be abandoning. And as I glance at this woman who bears a striking resemblance to Miss Happ, and her comrades, I cannot help but realize I would be, in a way, abandoning them as well. The fear in the woman¡¯s eyes. It¡¯s the same with everyone. They worry that any wrong move will result in swift punishment. And yet, I still cannot shake the feeling that Victoria herself sits before me, scared and likewise forsaken by her superiors. If Victoria was here, would it make any difference in my decision to have them sent to the capital? You¡¯re not thinking of taking me prisoner, are you? Even though it was said in jest then, reflecting on Victoria¡¯s remark makes me clutch my chest. I look past the Victoria doppelg?nger at their soon-to-be impending death row. It doesn¡¯t have to be this way. It shouldn¡¯t be this way. There¡¯s no choice to be made: putting them out of their misery here and now, or shipping them off to the capital as human cattle for the Don¡¯s sickening games. I can go with another decision entirely: a genuine, humane, stroke of mercy. One that doesn¡¯t involve further inkling to the sins I¡¯ve committed. I kneel in front of the blonde captive, which provokes a gasp from Olga upon the realization. Olga reaches for me¡ªbut she slowly rescinds her hand. The blonde captive, also taken by shock, tries to scurry back. Her comrades jolt back to give me room. ¡°Please,¡± I say, scanning the group¡¯s sullen faces, ¡°I do not mean to cause you any harm, or worry. I¡­¡± a bite down on my lip, and shift to sitting on my knees. I tighten the grip on my leggings, bringing the courage to look her in the eyes. With a grunt, I scoot forward to the woman, bracing pain as I smile. ¡°What¡­ is your name?¡± I ask, the blonde captive glances at the others, not realizing she is being addressed. She persists with averting her gaze, but the others give her no more room to back away. She clears her throat, our eyes never once meeting. One of her colleagues nudges her on the side. ¡°Olivia¡­¡± she mutters, eyes flicker. Slowly, Petra does seem to relax between each breath. I reach up to caress my blemished cheek. Olivia. Olivia. I repeat the name over in my head and whisper the pronunciation under my breath. What a lovely name. ¡°Olivia,¡± I say, warmly. A slight flinch from the soldier. With another long exhale, Olivia sits up straight, and the two of us lock eyes at last. ¡°This will be brief, and will sound strange at first, but¡­¡± I trail off, again biting down on my lip. I briefly look upon Olga, who remains puzzled yet on guard staring down the other prisoners. ¡°I¡­ need you to deliver a message for me, and¡­¡± I reach inside my poncho¡ªOlivia¡¯s eyes widen and she seemingly goes pale¡ªand slip Julius¡¯s brightly red bandanna out. I caress the bandanna several times in my hands, a gentle brush of its fine texture with my thumbs. A firm squeeze on the textile. Is it hesitance? Do I want to do this? My right-hand trembles: Olga reaches over and places her prosthetic arm over it. My lanky friend smiles weakly. Has Olga caught on to what I plan to do? Is this an indicator of acknowledgment on her part? I turn my attention back to Olivia. Olga gracefully pulls away. I fold the bandanna a few times in my hands and reach out to Olivia with it. She stares at it for the longest time, unsure of what this entails. But before long, she brings herself closer to me and¡ªwith profound hesitance¡ªextends a hand to cup her hand over mine and the bandanna. Without thinking, I rest my other hand on hers to a gasp of surprise from Olivia. ¡°When you meet the one¡­¡± I say, warmly, our gaze still locked, I clear my aching throat ¡°¡­the one named, Victoria Happ¡­ Schwarzenberger¡­ please,¡± I lean in closer, squeezing Olivia¡¯s warm, yet sticky hand, ¡°give this bandanna as a token of my gratitude, as a proof that I have lived¡­ not as the Madame Scarface, not as the wretched daughter of the Don¡­ but as Li Chou,¡± I say, heartedly, ¡°and that not everything either of us has done was in vain. I want Victoria to know that¡­¡± I clear my throat again, smiling as brightly as I can: bearing the awful aching pain that zips across my face, ¡°no goodbye lasts forever. There will be a day we shall meet again, I¡¯m sure of it. So please, with this bandanna¡­ until that fateful meeting occurs, keep our promise to live¡­ to live a long and meaningful life. ¡°And as for you, Olivia,¡± I continue, letting go of the soldier¡¯s hand, then getting to my feet, ¡°I cannot say for certain what will become of you after this, but I want you¡ªand everyone else¡ªto live what life I¡¯ve granted you all a life to the fullest,¡± I say, warmly, grimacing the intense pain that stems from a wide smile. I then take a few steps back, and after glaring at a puzzled guard, he approaches me. ¡°Is this all of the prisoners?¡± I ask, in a stern tone. The guard shifts in place, his gaze looking at a friend of his. ¡°Yes, Madame!¡± He says rather robotically, ¡°this is all of them. The caps¡¯ told us to round them up here and await your final decision on their fates,¡± the guard says, his rifle sways carelessly towards the swathes of prisoners next to us. The soldier¡¯s lack of self-awareness aside, I feel relieved knowing that I won¡¯t be, for lack of another word, leaving behind anyone else to a fate at the capital. ¡°Very well,¡± I remark, ¡°proceed with getting them in the transports¡ªcarefully,¡± I add, coldly. Olga silently nods with a smile, to the confused dismay of the guards. As the prisoners get to their feet and silently shuffle into the large shuttle, some of the guards begin to walk up the shuttle¡¯s ramp. As one passes by me, I reach out and grab him by the shoulder. ¡°Wait,¡± I say, ¡°the guards will not be joining them: you will stay here,¡± in another bout of confusion, the guards step off the ramp and remain on the sidelines. ¡°Where are the pilots?¡± I ask, demandingly. Three of them present themselves speedily. I shepherd them away from the guards¡ªOlga stays behind to keep an eye on them. After we are out of earshot, I lean into the circle of men and begin speaking in a low tone, ¡°once you have gotten a certain distance from the Baltit¡­ I want you to plot a course for the Preuben star zone,¡± I pause at their appalling horror, ¡°afterward, you will seal the cockpit compartment from the inside and leave through the escape pods. Contact the captain overseeing the early warning line¡ªDontae, and let him know he is prohibited from restraining or firing on the shuttle,¡± I say, coolly. Afterward, I step away from the trio and throw an arm in the air, ¡°get going! I do not want to see this unsightliness any longer. The trio scramble off into the shuttle, and the ramp door whines as it swings upward and closes. I lock eyes one last time with Olivia, giving her one last aching smile just as it seals tight. Olga joins up with me, and we proceed walking towards Carla¡¯s shuttle. As we wait at the rear for the ramp door to open, dozens of lackeys line up around us. Rather than the typical Mafia salute¡ªthey instead deeply blow. I crack a wry smile, glancing at Olga. ¡°You must be wondering why I parted ways with the bandanna,¡± I ask. Olga tilts her head. ¡°Something of a memorabilia for that Ve-tora?¡± The lanky blonde asks, folding her arms. ¡°In a way, you are correct,¡± I say, warmly, ¡°the memories of Toscana will always be unforgettable¡­¡± a rub of my sensitive scar ¡°I could never forget about the ones I¡¯d made suffer¡ªindividuals like Julius. In some form, giving up the bandanna is a means for me to no longer remain trapped in the darkness of despair. ¡°By handing the scarf off, it¡¯s a way for me to push towards a new future, a new light. For Victoria, I think, it will be proof that I lived¡­ even if I do not survive tomorrow, or the day after, or a few years from now. It will remain as proof that there was once a Li Chou, and the release of prisoners will be the final humane act by the Madame Scarface,¡± I say. Afterward, Olga and I walk halfway up the ramp before I turn to face the crowd. Without another word, I reach out with an open hand just as Olivia¡¯s shuttle begins takeoff. My outward hand curls into a ball: and I press it firmly against my chest. The men, after straightening up, pound their chests with fists. ¡°Are you fine with things being this way?¡± Olga asks, her gaze fixated on the shuttle leaving the harbor, ¡°the captives¡­ Kamon¡­ everything?¡± ¡°Are you scared, Olga?¡± I ask, returning the smile, ¡°of what possibly awaits our fate at the capital?¡± Olga glances at me, a bleak smile. She reaches out to curl her hand around mine. ¡°I am,¡± she responds, ¡°but so long as I have you, Li¡­ I¡¯ll face whatever may approach us head-on. I¡¯ve promised to follow you anywhere, everywhere¡­ even if the whole galaxy is against you,¡± Olga¡¯s lips tremble as she smiles. I squeeze her hand¡ªher real hand¡ªas tight as I could. From behind Olga comes Brutus, resting a hand on her shoulder. ¡°Carla¡¯s calmed down,¡± the hulky brute remarks, ¡°she¡¯s warming up the engines now¡­ so we can depart whenever you¡¯re ready,¡± Brutus says. I give my nod, and Brutus presses a button on the console doors to have them close, just as the crowd gives hollers and proclaimed cries of long live the Madame and long live the Mafia. I scoff with a smirk just as the shuttle door seals tight with a final hiss. Long live the Madame, huh? As I take a seat by a window, I caress my nasal scar. Deep down, I can only hope that their cries remain heard. Chapter 88: Toscana Requiem | My Fair Lady
SIDE BRUNSB¨¹TTEL
Our car, slowly and bumpy, rides through the mountainous settlement home to most of the Castelforte family. As Rami plows through the snow, some lackeys wave, with the occasional lousy salute. Even as our driver, Rami, comes to a brief stop from inspection of my gated manor, there are sighs of relief from the guards and nods of acknowledgments as he is allowed to drive on through. At last, I can imagine they are thinking, the Madame Scarface is alive and well. Rami pulls up just up to the vast steps of my manor¡¯s entrance. Compared to the homes and lifestyles of most captains, my estate is rather modest in comparison. It¡¯s a rather old building, being one of the first retreats of Toscana¡¯s elite, it¡¯s constructed mainly that of lime-white brickstone, long washed-out from years of abandonment, and is neatly camouflaged in the ever-constant stream of snow that blankets this side of the Brunsb¨¹ttel. And yet, I call it home. I would rather live here in this somewhat unrestored manor than stick around with my father at his mansion, even if it means I don¡¯t get to be as close to Simon as I¡¯d wish to be. And even despite its rather unsightliness, it does have a nice, relaxing view of the district below, given that it is a cliff-side residence. It also has a nice, lofty little wing that I utilize as a recreational parlor. Olga opens the door for me, and I duck while stepping out, one foot after another crunches the deep snow. The coldness tickles my facial scar and numbs my ears. I look up at the two-story manor, looming in presence with its coated white roof. How I¡¯ve missed this sensation: this feeling of familiarity. But on that thought, I cut a heavy, exhaustive sigh. But even still, I still can¡¯t relax now. Not yet. I expected something to happen when we were at the harbor. Not so much as even a mafia foot soldier about, or lieutenants keeping a keen eye. Back there, it was simply business as usual for the civilians. Even Rami, as clumsy as he is, didn¡¯t mention anything out of the ordinary. No signs of auspicious cronies or anything. We weren¡¯t trailed as far as I¡¯m aware, and there definitely weren¡¯t any foot soldiers on patrol as we drove through the capital: nothing. Nothing at all to indicate that Kamon is lying in wait, giving the order to her agency to track me down¡ªto hunt me. I don¡¯t want to be paranoid. Maybe I am overthinking things. I imagined before it would be bad publicity if Kamon did anything too rashly so soon. Would Zhui even let her get away with it, after the confession to him on the Montepuez? I doubt it, but love can work in mysterious ways. He has done unusual things for her sake with out-of-line subordinates in the past, whereas it¡¯s actions he generally wouldn¡¯t take. He has no love for me, his proclaimed adoptive daughter. Even if I claim to remain reclusive, there¡¯s no way he wouldn¡¯t take chances and do her bidding. And that brings me to the lackeys I¡¯ve had patrolling my manor. Generally, I only have them posted when I am away from my residence and retire them when I am home. Having them around only makes me anxious¡­ I never wanted to live a life knowing that I have to have foot soldiers wandering around my parameter for fear of assassination. I have Olga, and the community as a whole to protect me. But even now, I don¡¯t want it to be necessary. But there is a very real possibility that there could be a Kamon agent lurking in the Castelforte community. The idea that people would have to kill or be killed if it comes to confrontation for my sake leaves me more distraught than the brooding cold. Another sigh of disbelief. My scar tingles from numbness, and I stroke it from the aching on my brow and the bottom part of my cheek. ¡°It¡¯s cold, isn¡¯t it, Madame?¡± Olga asks coolly while rubbing her shivering shoulders, ¡°it feels like forever since we¡¯ve been here. Even the car felt a little breezy, didn¡¯t it?¡± Olga asks, with a wince, thoroughly rubbing her mechanical arm. I imagine Olga must be regretting having it installed so soon. I did warn her it might damage her nerves, and the cold certainly would not help her stubbornness. I turn to face Olga, smiling. ¡°Maybe an arm warmer will suffice?¡± I muse ¡°I think I had an extra one inside, but I¡¯d have to check.¡± ¡°I¡¯d appreciate that,¡± Olga answers. The lanky blonde radiates a beaming smile. ¡°I¡¯d respond in kind by starting the brew on some coffee¡ªBrutey is more than welcome to join us, too,¡± she remarks. ¡°Huh?¡± A scoff from Brutus. The giant brute pokes his head from the passenger window and slams the door shut. The three of us begin walking through the partially-cleared walkaway and up the flight of stairs. ¡°I¡¯m not much of a coffee guy, though¡­ you have like, er, I dunno¡­ tea, or something?¡± Brutus asks. I cock my head, stroking my long bangs of hair. ¡°Tea? Tea, hmmm¡­¡± I muse, ¡°I do believe I received a few tins of them as gifts many months ago¡­ Olga, would you mind?¡± I ask. Olga thinks about it for a few moments before giving a nod. I bear mild pain to give Brutus a smirk, ¡°I suppose you¡¯re in luck, Brute~y,¡± I say warmly. With a slap on his face, Brutus groans in pain. ¡°That''s more than fine but¡­,¡± another groan, ¡°I really, really wish you two would drop that already,¡± Brutus says, ¡°it doesn¡¯t fit me at all, I¡¯m not a kid. Look, I¡¯ll cut you two a deal, I¡¯ll stop¡ª¡° Brutus doesn¡¯t get to finish the sentence. We hear a sudden utterance behind us. We stop in our tracks, turning to see Simon¡¯s stooge waving in an attempt to catch our attention. "Rami? Is there something wrong?" I ask. I stop stroking my hair. What feeling of relaxation I have is gone in an instant. A sense of anxiety rises in its place. ¡°Er¡­,¡± Rami mutters, seemingly caught surprised by the glares, "t-there¡¯s b-been some trouble at the harbor," Rami says, the nimble crony clears his throat, "s-specifically, I-I¡¯ve been told that Miss cap Olga is needed at her, er, earliest convenience," he points over his shoulder, "I-I j-just now received the information on my car radio," Rami says. Olga, breathing heavily through her nose, grips me by the sleeve. Her eyes meet mine briefly. "Is this about my crew?" Olga asks, rather stiffly. Rami ponders the question, leaning on his door window and tapping its frame. ¡°T-they d-didn¡¯t give me many details,¡± Rami replies ¡°b-but yes, it¡¯s about the Taiga. The message itself was from your acting ¡®cap, Milos¡­ I think it was,¡± Rami says. Olga runs a hand through her hair, gritting her teeth. ¡°I-if you want, I-I can tell him that it can hold off for now.¡± ¡°No, well¡­ I think it would be a bad time right now, but,¡± Olga heaves a sigh, she looks at me with a weak smile¡ªbut it¡¯s rather sad. ¡°I guess I have been neglecting my captain duties a little, have I?¡± She muses, ruffling my hair gently-like, ¡°Milos must be pissed with me right about now. You gave them that wonderful speech on the Mathilda, and I haven¡¯t been able to follow up on it too much,¡± Olga rubs my disfigured cheek. ¡°Olga¡­¡± I mutter. She lightly pinches my cheek with a heartfelt smile. ¡°You¡¯ve set the bar too high for me to go off of, Madame,¡± she says, ¡°I¡¯ll go take care of business with my crew, and then I¡¯ll come back, it won¡¯t be long¡ªI promise,¡± ¡°Olga¡­¡± I clear the lump forming in my throat, ¡°I¡¯ll come with you. It¡¯s my responsibility too,¡± I say, pulling her hand to my chest. Olga shakes her head. More of that sad smile. ¡°No, no, you rest,¡± Olga refutes, you need the rest, you¡¯ve been pale on the whole ride back.¡± ¡°Olga¡­,¡± I mutter, I glance at Brutus. He shoves his hands in his pockets and averts his gaze. ¡°You say that like you haven¡¯t been exerting yourself, either. Please, just let Milos handle it,¡± I bite down on my lip, quivering, ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m scared of you leaving me so soon. You said you¡¯d be by my side in case something happens. What if Kamon¡­?¡± Olga places a hand on my shoulder, presses me closer to her chest. ¡°Nothing will happen, Li,¡± Olga says, rubbing my chest, ¡°Brutey will be with you. And I¡¯m not leaving you, either, Li¡­ you have to relax. But even with that said,¡± a tighter squeeze, ¡°I¡¯m still a little worried myself¡­ but I can¡¯t let my crew down, either. They need me right now, Li, and I need you as much as you need me, too,¡± Olga says. She releases her grip and parts from us, turning to face Rami. ¡°Inform Milos, if you can, that I¡¯ll be there soon immediately,¡± then glances to address Brutus, ¡°if something¡ªanything happens, I¡¯ll come rushing back. So please¡­ look after her, Brutus, and look after yourself as well,¡± Olga briefly embraces Brutus before hurrying over to the vehicle. ¡°Olga!¡± I say, my feet shuffle through the heavy snow, ¡°Olga! Stay safe! Please¡­¡± my voice trails off. My thoughts swirl uncontrollably. Should I order her to stay after all? My heart aches with each pulse. Something about this is wrong, so very wrong. Am I simply overthinking it too much? Maybe I do need to simply relax in body and mind. My eyelids are rather heavy after everything is said and done. I am incredibly exhausted. She looks at us, with one last meager smile, ¡°I¡¯ll run at the first sign of trouble,¡± Olga then presses her fingers to her lips, and extends her hand out towards us, balled into a fist. The lanky subordinate slips into the car. After the door slams shut, the car reverses, and before long¡­ Olga and Rami are gone. I take deep breaths. My mind continues to race. I rub my temples, sighing heavily as I do so. I glance at Brutus, his gaze following Olga¡¯s car as it races through the valley. When noticing me, Brutus peeks a wry smile, ¡°that Olga¡­ I guess I can¡¯t fault her. She¡¯s still a captain, and she still has a crew, after all. ¡°Come on, Olga was right about it being too damn chilly here¡­ honestly, I still can¡¯t stand to reason why you would choose to have this as your residence. I¡¯m practically freezing my jewels off!¡± Brutus smiles. I can always count on reliable, upbeat subordinates. But¡­ I can¡¯t help but frown. ¡°Jewels?¡± I ask, folding my arms under my breasts, ¡°whatever do you mean?¡± Brutus abruptly scoffs, rubbing the back of his head. ¡°Anyway, let¡¯s just head inside for now,¡± Brutus remarks coolly. We walk atop the rest of the stairs without another word. At the entrance, I dust the rather flaky hand sensor, waving my hand over it. There¡¯s a short hum from the device, and the door slides open. Just by our presence, the lights flicker on concisely throughout the house. For a rather antiqued exterior, it¡¯s still a relief to me after all these years knowing the interior system was so well-maintained even before I began settling in. Brutus heads off into one of the hallways. ¡°I¡¯ll go make you some coffee¡­ and rummage around for some tea,¡± Brutus says. Putting my faith in Brutus not messing the coffee up somehow, I shrug my shoulders and wander into another corridor. I come into the large but lonely living room, where I find the nearest chair and slip off my tanned cloak. And upon doing so, scoff at the memory of Brutus calling this a security blanket. I suppose in a lot of ways it is one. I¡¯ve had this in my possession for longer than I could remember. I¡¯d say it¡¯s the only real possession I have¡ªother than the clothes on my back¡ªand the golden necklaces were given to me as presents from the Castelforte crew. I have nothing else to my name if you can exclude the Castelforte itself. Though, I suppose the furniture here belongs to me. I¡¯ve simply never needed any trinkets. I have Simon, Brutus, and Olga¡­ what else more do I need? I hug the cloak for a little longer, then set it on my chair¡¯s post. And after a deep, heavy sigh, slump forward, vision buried by my hands. A dual stroke of my face, followed by a responsive wince of my scar. Brutus returns with two steamy porcelain cups. He sets mine, a mug, on the end-table next to me, and pulls a chair up to me, and sits down with a grunt. The chair creaks underneath his weight as if indicating the man will crash any moment now. Brutus takes a few sips here and there, then sets it on the table. ¡°If you don¡¯t drink your coffee, you know, it¡¯s going to get cold,¡± Brutus says, cutting the silence, ¡°you wouldn¡¯t want my hard-earned grinding of the beans¡­ careful measuring and pouring of procured hot water to go to waste, would you?¡± the oaf says in a light-hearted tone. He scoots the cup carefully towards me. ¡°Sorry, Brutus, you¡¯re right,¡± I sit up straight, beaming a grimacing grin at the curious man. I grab the mug and chug most of the liquid¡ªmy throat burns and chest burns, but it feels good. Brutus continues to look at me like a feral animal as I set it down. A deep breath escapes my lips. ¡°Surprisingly, it¡¯s good, Brutey,¡± I say warmly, another painful smile, ¡°if you ever got together with that young Haru woman, I¡¯m sure she would appreciate your skills as a partner,¡± yet another one of Brutus¡¯s disregarding scoffs. ¡°Look, if it¡¯s that bad, you know it won¡¯t be hurting my feelings,¡± Brutus groans, ¡°and stop calling me that already! Look, I¡¯ll start calling you by your actual name more if you¡¯ll stop¡ª¡± ¡°It won¡¯t change a thing, Brutey,¡± I say, reaching over to caress his hand, ¡°it was good. I¡¯m sorry if it seems I¡¯m coming off as¡­,¡± frown, a head tilt, ¡°forceful. I think I¡¯m simply just too restless,¡± I lean back against the chair¡¯s post. When peering out the window, one of the parameter guards, a rather gruff man, sheepishly shuffles by in the knee-high snow. ¡°A home is supposed to be safe, and yet just the thought of being stuck here surrounded by the necessity of security makes me anxious beyond belief.¡± ¡°Well¡­¡± Brutus muses, ¡°did you have something else in mind? If you want me to relieve the guards, I can do that,¡± he says, in between a gulp of his tea. ¡°No, I will do that myself,¡± I answer, stroking my bangs and cheek scar, ¡°I think what I need right now is some fresh air. I will let the captain of the team know they are relieved while I¡¯m outside, and I want you to call either Rocco or Mark and let them know I¡¯d like to head into town for the nearest sauna.¡± ¡°A sauna?¡± Brutus retorts. The oaf gulps down the rest of his porcelain pug and neatly sets it down forcibly. ¡°Well¡­ you do tend to disappear there when things get too much with administrative affairs,¡± he frowns, ¡°you do mean the one on L?yly street, right?¡± I give my nod, ¡°well¡­ but what if¡ª¡± ¡°If we spend so much time worrying about Kamon and whatnot, we¡¯ll get nowhere,¡± I reply warmly, ¡°it¡¯ll be fine, Brutey¡­ just let Olga know as well that we¡¯ll be there for the time being,¡± I say. Brutus and I get up, and again briefly part ways. After heading outside, I stop one of the cronies and inform him that he is more than welcome to relax in the recreational parlor with his men, or do as they wish. ¡°But, Madame¡­¡± the man muffles through his heavy scarf, ¡°are you sure? We were told by captain Simon that there might be¡ª¡° I raise a hand, and the guard takes a step back. ¡°Your protection and hard work are no longer needed,¡± I remark, rubbing my shoulders, ¡°all things considered, you¡¯ve risked your lives enough as-is,¡± I pause, glancing around before taking a step closer to the man, ¡°let your men that if you are approached by any men claiming to be with Kamon¡­ do not resist. I do not wish there to be any needless massacres,¡± the man gives me a surprised glare, but gives a reluctant nod and shuffles off through the snow to seek his men. And with that, I kick through the snow, wandering off the vicinity aimlessly down towards the mountainous settlement. Mobs are out and about, doing what they can to clear the rather primitive roads of endless clout of snow. Some wave or give me salutes, which I quietly reciprocate. Eventually, I come to a stop near a large, coal-colored chapel. It looms over most, with its lengthy steeple, unmolested by the laden snow that blankets the chapel¡¯s roof. Simon told me once that this was probably a sect of Terran cultists, long since abandoned after one of the first Brunsb ¨¹ttel ministers banned public gatherings on earthly worship. It¡¯s a law that remains challenged even after the Mafia assumed power here. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Haru flailing her arms around as she shifts her legs around in the snow. When she takes notice of me, she smiles so brightly it¡¯s enough to melt the snow itself. ¡°Madame Li!¡± Haru says, huffing from lack of breath, ¡°what brings you out here?¡± ¡°I needed some fresh air,¡± I remark, glancing past Haru at the chapel, at a gathering of children playing in the snow, ¡°children?¡± Haru follows my gaze and sighs wholeheartedly. ¡°Some of the Castelforte crew found them when we returned,¡± Haru explains, ¡°it seems they called it their home while we were away,¡± Haru¡¯s gaze falls to the accumulating snow, ¡°kids with no families¡­ no adults to look after them. Their little leader, Isabella, helped them run away from the slums district¡­ they didn¡¯t seem to ransack any homes, though¡­ but I¡¯d figure I¡¯d help feed them; some of the others offered some food, as well,¡± she holds up the closed basket she held in one of her arms, ¡°chili lime shrimp¡ªI managed to snag some from a Ronda merchant. Do you want some? There¡¯s plenty of leftovers,¡± Haru says. I stroke my blemished cheek, a sigh escapes my lips. I shake the cold and the sense of guilt and give Haru a warm smile. ¡°Shrimp¡­ I cannot say I¡¯ve ever had some before. I¡¯d love to have some later¡­ right now, I have no real appetite. Brutey and I are going to head to the L?yly sauna¡ªso once we return, I¡¯ll force Brutey to eat all your cooking,¡± I say. Haru happily nods¡ªand scrunches her partially frosted brows. ¡°Bru¡ªtey?¡± Haru mutters dryly. I crack a smile, patting her on the shoulder. And at that moment, I register too late a rapid, icy fragment that blocks out vision blurry¡ªand before I know it I lose my balance, the world goes blurry as I backward onto the white frosted ground. A sudden coldness chills my intensely burning face, and I hear a loud gasp as Haru stomps away. ¡°Isabella!¡± The woman shrieks, ¡°Isabella! What is wrong with you!¡± As I grunt getting back, I rub my partially numb face, watching as Haru fruitlessly sighs in defeat as the children scurry away behind the obsidian chapel. I can faintly make out them shouting childish cheers like¡®we got the booby scarface lady!¡¯ as the group runs out of sight. Haru lets out a forceful sigh and returns to help and pat me off. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m really sorry,¡± she mutters, ¡°they usually behave with the other crew members. I don¡¯t know what¡¯s gotten into them¡­ that Isabella is a bad influence on the rest,¡± Haru examines me closer, ¡°are you alright? You¡¯re not wearing your cloak like you usually do¡ªyou won¡¯t catch a cold, will you?¡± It suddenly occurs to me that I didn¡¯t bring it along, and I shake my head. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine, Haru. I was a little surprised, is all,¡± I break a smirk, wincing at the unusually intense pain from the icy projectile, ¡°I¡¯m more impressed they aren¡¯t terrified of me.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll have Isabella apologize for it properly next time,¡± Haru sighs, ¡°really, she¡¯s a bit tomboyish, but¡ª¡° I rest a hand on her shoulder, and she stops to look me in the eyes. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°Try not to be so hard on them,¡± I say warmly ¡°I¡¯m sure they are good kids,¡± Haru sighs, shrugs, and gives a smile. And as she does so, her eyes widen as she points past me, ¡°I think Bru¡ªtey is out here searching for you, Miss Li. ¡± Indeed, the oafish individual crushes through the snow. He looks concerned, probably by Haru¡¯s shrieking. I excuse myself from Haru, trudging towards Brutus. ¡°Jeez,¡± the man murmurs, ¡°my heart was racing when I couldn¡¯t find you¡ªand I nearly shit myself when I heard someone scream,¡± he glances with a squint at Haru as she makes her way back to the chapel, ¡°what made you wander like a lost child like that? Jeez¡­¡± ¡°I told you, I wanted some fresh air,¡± I say, cheeks pouting. Brutus tries to scoff it off and hands me my tanned cloak, ¡°thanks.¡± ¡°What would Simon and Olga say if you froze up and collapsed out here?¡± Brutus says, sighing, ¡°I¡¯d never hear the end of it. I¡¯m pretty sure Olga would outright murder me, anyway, I couldn¡¯t contact Rocco¡ªneither could Mark, actually, so Mark offered to come for us. He should be by the manor already,¡± Brutus says. I put on the warm, scratchy poncho and wrap it tightly around my torso. Well, typically Rocco is punctual about answering any calls from us. It¡¯s rather odd that Rocco of all people is quicker to respond, but who am I to judge? We reach my manor and I find Mark leaning against his car, trying in vain to keep himself warm by blowing air into his cupped hands. When he notices us, he becomes noticeably animated. ¡°Christ, took you two long enough!¡± Mark groans, ¡°was it always so cold in here? Good God, why couldn¡¯t ya just live in the big boss¡¯s mansion like a normal person?!¡± I can¡¯t help but evoke a strained smile. ¡°Sorry about this, Mark,¡± I say. The scrooge scoffs. ¡°Yeah, yeah¡­¡± Mark grumbles, ¡°let¡¯s get going already¡ªand let¡¯s hope I don¡¯t crash for a fifth time with these frosted hands. Wouldn¡¯t that be a shame? A tragedy, even.¡±
L?yly avenue. It¡¯s a quieter part of the city by day, and also the greenest. A nice retreat away from home, and the ever-irritable life of being a Mafia captain. This narrow property strip is home to a plethora of entertainment businesses that thrive after-hours. As such, after the Mafia took over¡ªthough the Don couldn¡¯t care less¡ªthe lesser captains and lieutenants had their eyes on this strip of territory. Though, Mafia influence has been stubbornly resisted compared to other parts of the city. Even now, it remains a staunchly conservative area, sometimes reactionary to any incursion by muscle men with nothing better to do. Thankfully, so long as they don¡¯t come around for the sake of street bullying, Mafia soldiers are welcomed as guests just as much as anyone else. Given that the width of the avenue is small to an extent that it¡¯s inaccessible to anything but bipedal vehicles, Mark¡¯s car pulls up just to the base of the street. Brutus and I get out just as Mark leans against his driver¡¯s door. He procures a tiny, silver flask from inside his cloak¡ªand I frown with puffed cheeks. ¡°What?¡± Mark groans, ¡°it¡¯s not alcohol¡ªit¡¯s water. I¡¯m quenched! I¡¯ll have you know I¡¯ve mostly been sober today, anyway, I¡¯ll sit by until you¡¯re done¡­ er¡­ doing whatever in the sauna or whatever,¡± Mark points with the flask further down L?yly¡¯s corridor, ¡°I might help myself to one of the noodle stands, though, Brutus, if you want you can join me¡ªbut you¡¯re paying for yourself.¡± Brutus groans, ¡°well, I was going to relax in the sauna with the Madame but¡ª¡° it¡¯s only a brief moment that the two of us lock eyes, and I find myself flustered before I know it, ¡°but on second thought, I think I¡¯ll join you. I think Li needs the personal time from little ol¡¯ me as much as the next guy,¡± Brutus says. As Mark heads off into L?yly past the sauna entrance, Brutus pats me on the shoulder then leans in, ¡°if anything arises, don¡¯t hesitate to rush out and find me¡­ I won¡¯t go anywhere,¡± with one final pat of my slim shoulder Brutus heads off to join Mark just across the street. Feeling content, I head inside the main office of the sauna. The desk receptionist, a middle-aged man long familiarized with me as a regular, is more than happy in handing me the wrist strap containing a service key after I place on the desk a few franc bills. ¡°Thank you for your patronage,¡± he says, a slight nod, ¡°enjoy your stay.¡± ¡°Thank you, I will,¡± I say, smiling warmly. After receiving the wrist strap, I quietly stride off into one of the locker rooms, where I strip down and set my belongings in a locker. Afterward, a step into an adjacent shower compartment for a breezy, brisk body shower. Ahh, a drawn-out sigh of relief. How I¡¯ve waited so long for this refreshing moment! After a few moments of experiencing the exhilarating bout of freshness, I step out, drying myself lightly with a fresh towel. I waste no time heading out further into the hallway until coming to the main sauna facilities. The first one already has several occupants in it, and the second one is likewise filled with men. The next one over, thankfully, is vacant. And without a moment¡¯s hesitance, I slide the door open and step inside. It¡¯s a moderately large circular room, constructed almost entirely out of hexagonal-themed wood¡ªa lightly tanned brown, bordering on red. The center of the room is dominated by a pure black modular device connecting to the ceiling. And just past that in front of me are two benches that extend across the room. I walk to the front side of the device, kneeling with a grunt. I tinker with its touch screen a little, programming it to rise gradually to and remain in a fixed range. While the sauna device does its thing, I plop down on the center part of the lower bench, arms extended outwardly. My eyelids, struggling with all their effort in keeping wake, crash down as one heavenly sigh after another washes me away to another world. The very pores in my body open up to the heat, welcoming much-needed rest. Bliss. Incomprehensibly yet incredible bliss. How long has it been since I could simply escape from my problems, if only for a while? Here, all my stress and problems simply melt away against the rising steam. I can¡¯t help but silently curse myself for not coming here sooner. I imagine if I did, I wouldn¡¯t be on the verge of my breaking point. I could¡¯ve tackled the issue with Kamon directly, refreshed and with a rejuvenated mind. There would¡¯ve been no need to constantly keep Olga and Brutus worried. Ah¡­ if only Olga was here to relax with me. A slight blush as I stroke my warm, moist scar, I wouldn¡¯t mind if Brutus or even Simon tagged along as well. I think even compared to me, they need a brief escape from life more than I do. It makes me feel a little guilty¡ªif a little down in spirits that Brutus decided not to tag along with me. Just the two of us¡­ relaxing together in a steamy bath. A brief scoff escapes my moist lips. What am I saying? The sauna door slides open¡ªan interruption of my train of thoughts. But I pay no attention to it. If other patrons wish to join me, then I have no qualms with it. The embarrassing thought of the timid Brutus, huffing, and puffing as he tries to play a game of endurance entertains me for some time. But something seems off about the patron at the door. It¡¯s still open¡ªand it¡¯s letting the steam out. But yet, I can¡¯t bring myself to stir awake. My body, fully surrendered to the magic of the sauna, is akin to sleep paralysis. It¡¯s getting increasingly lukewarm. Though there is still a heavy, formulating mist, I can barely make out the dark silhouette at the doorway. It would seem they haven¡¯t budged at all. How long exactly have they been there? A pervert, perhaps? Now I wish Olga or Brutus were here with me. ¡°Please¡­¡± I croak, just barely craning my neck to get a better view of the loitering patron, ¡°if you¡¯re not going to come in¡­ then please close the door. You¡¯re letting the steam go to waste.¡± The figure seems to glance to his sides, then takes a step inside¡ªthen another. Though it is still impossible to distinguish the man¡¯s features, it strikes me that he is fully clothed¡ªand wearing a top hat. Generally, there is no restriction that you have to be naked with a towel at most, it¡¯s merely etiquette, but I am not one to judge other people¡¯s tastes. And yet, something seems off. But I can¡¯t put my finger on what. In my current state, this feels like a feverish dream. A little hotter than what I¡¯m accustomed to. Did I set the temperature too high out of my preferred range? No, I¡¯m almost certain I set it properly. It could just be that since it¡¯s been a while since I¡¯ve used the sauna, my body simply forgot the feel of things. I tilt my head. My wandering eyes return to the man at the door. The door still hasn¡¯t been shut¡ªand it feels even less warm now, almost room temperature. ¡°Sorry¡­¡± my feeble voice croaks again, ¡°if¡­ I wasn¡¯t clear the first time, please at least close the door behind you,¡± I say. It¡¯s hard to focus due to the tiredness, but I make sure that my voice is louder this time. No response from the man. Instead, he takes another step closer. And it¡¯s only then that I realize he¡¯s not only wearing full attire¡ªbut he¡¯s wearing an ominously dark cloak. One of his arms pokes out from it, and I hear a sound all too familiar with me. A sound that I¡¯ve never wanted to hear ever again. It¡¯s a sound that all languages speak¡ªRuthenian, Federation, Toscani¡­ a mechanical sound that I¡¯ve lived and fought by¡ªa sound that is nearly second-nature to me. The cocking of a pistol. The intruder takes another step forward. He passes through the web of steam¡ªand I can distinguish under the brim of the hat the face of a monster. The lack of hesitance in his expression. The steel resolve in the whites of his eyes. The lifeless, unflinching glare that locks eyes with mine. The reflective glimpse of a haggard woman, in contrast, helpless, defenseless, naked, and unprepared. But it¡¯s his defining features that haunt me the most. Karwoski. It¡¯s the same as then. And perhaps it will always be the same. The one who snubbed the innocence of Li Chou¡ªthe one who gave birth to the Madame Scarface. And so many years later, it comes full circle: death and rebirth. No matter how much I run from the past, my horrors merely take a new form. Is this how I die? After all the impossibilities I endure? Just like that, I die an undignified death? Robbed of the right to grow old and die? A pirate never has a happy ending. It¡¯s like a chorus speaks out to me. In some ways, I suppose Jung and Simon were right after all. I was robbed of my right to live out a normal peaceful life years ago. My fate was always certain, was it not? It was only a matter of time. And I suppose sooner or later, I will meet my maker. I will meet all of those who I killed, all of those who sought to protect me. I will meet mama and papa, my brother, and all those I¡¯ve let down. The man mutters something. I close my eyes, cutting loose my last, final breath. I¡¯m sorry, Simon. Please forgive me. And yet¡­ nothing. No sound of a trigger being pulled. No sound of gunfire, no intense pain, or gunshot wounds. Mustering the courage, I open my eyes, slowly. It¡¯s still the sauna room. The cloaked man stands outside the door, he utters something, a look of utter rejection on his face. He looks at me one last time before he abruptly storms off. I muster what strength I have left. No signs of blood on me, nothing. And as I try to get up, I am left wobbly: lightheaded from staying in so long. And at that moment, another clothed individual appears. But it¡¯s difficult to make out their features with their back turned to me. They close the door shut, and finally turn to face me. Out of air, I want to gasp. The color drains from my face. I lean over to the side in my seat, my world spins. ¡°Kamon¡­¡± I utter, rather weakly. Why didn¡¯t I realize it sooner? No words can come out, my energy has failed me. Kamon, with a long, thin pipe in hand, takes slow steps towards me¡ªbut pauses to kneel by the sauna device. But before long, the elderly Hwang promptly sits adjacent to me. She takes a long, drawn-out suck from her pipe, and blows it into the steamed room. Why? Why now? I should¡¯ve realized sooner that I¡¯d be left vulnerable, and yet¡­ Brutus? My mind, scrambled as it, races around as I try to get up, wobbly, but where to? ¡°My physician,¡± Kamon begins after what feels like an eternity, she blows another cloud of toxin, ¡°Dr. Yang, always did suggest I take steamed baths as relief,¡± a hand upon my shoulder, ¡°it promotes good health¡ª¡° it¡¯s not an iron grip, but a gentle one, ¡°something along the lines of better blood circulation,¡± Kamon continues. I expect her to push me down¡ªbut she never does. With her pipe hand, another huff. She never once meets eyes with me, her eyes trained on the door. ¡°An opening of the airways, he¡¯d say. Refreshment of the mind,¡± Kamon continues. Her grip never tightens¡ªand she never once tries to pull me down. At my intuition, I sit next to her. Kamon doesn¡¯t react¡ªbut only merely a subtle grin and a nod. ¡°I think that is something we can agree on, yes?¡± Kamon asks. It¡¯s rather difficult to clear my throat. It¡¯s heavy, and simply trying to breathe proves difficult. With sheer reluctance, I give a nod. ¡°I¡¯m glad you agree¡­¡± Kamon says, another smirk. Her gaze shifts to me, momentarily, the heavy bags under her eyes all the more apparent. She puts one leg over the other. Kamon taps the pipe on her lips. ¡°I suppose¡­¡± Kamon starts, tersely, ¡°this is the first time we¡¯ve spoken directly¡­ and it is rather¡­¡± the corner of her eye, a piercing gaze, ¡°unfortunate it is not on more¡ªappropriate audience,¡± Kamon continues, setting the pipe in her lap. Her hand never once leaves my shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ve had a bit of an obsession with you lately, Miss Chou¡­ things are¡­¡± a pause, a tilt of her hilt as her eyes search the misty, yellow lights, ¡°are in quite¡­ the predicament right now, wouldn¡¯t you think? So many interesting things have happened,¡± a brief pause for Kamon to take a prolonged drag from her pipe, ¡°in such a short amount of time. ¡±There¡¯s a saying, that desperate times do indeed call for desperate measures¡­¡± Kamon taps the pipe on her knee and sets it aside before facing me. My breaths have gotten so concise. My entire body refuses to obey me. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t you agree, Miss Chou? It¡¯s similar to a rather classic dilemma¡­ of diverting a trolley¡¯s course, to kill a few if it meant avoiding a larger count of deaths¡­¡± Kamon muses. It¡¯s cold. Beyond the point of freezing. The mountainous settlement is warm in comparison. Kamon quietly releases me, and with the tips of her fingers, strokes my facial scar-line. ¡°Come to think of it,¡± she continues, laconically, ¡°I heard rumors that you were unlucky enough to be at the helm of such an incident, not too long ago, am I wrong?¡± ¡°I¡­¡± a gasp, with each breath I take, my chest cries in pain, ¡°no, I¡­ I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about¡­ I merely,¡± a lonely tear roll trickles down my cheek¡ªinterrupted by Kamon¡¯s finger. More gasps of air as my chest pounds faster. I want to pull away, but my body, as if utterly captivated by Kamon, refuses to obey, ¡°I¡¯ve never¡­ it was merely¡­ to resupply the fleet.¡± ¡°I see,¡± Kamon nods, a frown¡ªand another nod, ¡°but if you did, hypnotically, find yourself stuck in such a precarious situation¡­ I think I would understand. After all, you are more than a capable,¡± she pulls her pipe up, nodding all the same, ¡°cunning, individual, Miss Chou¡­ I think, hypnotically, you would know there is more at stake than letting a few die¡­¡± Kamon pauses, a deep sigh, ¡°but what then? What if there were more odds you would have to face? What if there are even endless junctures just as horrible?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t know what I¡¯ve been through,¡± I mutter, ¡°what I took to get here. What my men and I have done to ensure victory.¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± Kamon remarks, ¡°despite what they say of my reputation, I do not like blooding my hands¡ªI leave that to others, and even then, death is a pointless outcome,¡± Kamon takes a deep breath, tapping the pipe on her knee, ¡°but even then, there are some things that must be done¡ªand these things you have to do it yourself,¡± the tapping stops, and she points to the door. Another deep breath from Kamon. ¡°Isn¡¯t that right, Miss Chou? These days, it seems I simply cannot trust anyone¡ªnot my adoptive daughter, not her henchmen, and certainly, I cannot trust my agencies.¡± ¡°Why¡­¡± I gasp, ¡°why didn¡¯t you have me killed?¡± The words are almost pleading, a demand. A way to end my suffering. Kamon glances at me long and thoughtfully. Another brief smirk. ¡°A change of heart,¡± Kamon says dryly, ¡°I guess you could say. I couldn¡¯t be helped but be moved by your compassion towards others. To let her enemies live and fight another day. It was a pain to have Brutus and that blonde separated from you¡ªnot to mention the others, after all. I figured it was as good an opportunity as any.¡± ¡°You¡¯re too considerate,¡± I say. But like a heavy wave, her last remarks hit me hard. I feel what little energy I have nearly drains away. Several gasps as I glare at Kamon with all I have left. ¡°Olga¡­ Rocco¡­ that was your¡­¡± I can¡¯t find the words to finish the rest. Was I too naive? I shake my head, several times, I try to move my legs, but they¡¯re unresponsive. A soup of emotions¡ªAnger, sorrow, frustration boils within me. ¡°Did you hurt them?¡± I croak, ¡°did you hurt my family?!¡± Kamon says nothing, preferring to suck on her pipe, followed by a huff of toxins that cloud my vision. Almost in a moment, the presence of Madam Hwang disappears. I jump to my feet, wobbling as I try to keep stabilized. My world spins rapidly, as I lunge out at the endless mist. ¡°Please,¡± I shout, ¡°don¡¯t hurt them! They¡¯ve done nothing wrong!¡± A stream of tears, ¡°it¡¯s me you want, isn¡¯t it?!¡± A shout into the abyss, unanswered, ¡°I did what I had to do,¡± a scream this time, my throat strained before I know it, ¡°I did what I felt was right¡­ you would¡¯ve done the same, would you not?!¡± ¡°Rest assured,¡± the voice of Kamon is all around me, no way to pinpoint where ¡°your loved ones are safe¡­ Miss Chou, let this experience be a warning to you¡­ a warning to never defy me.¡± ¡°Where are you, Kamon?!¡± I wail, ¡°did you come here merely to watch me suffer?!¡± Kamon, however, presses on undeterred. ¡°Miss Chou¡­ I only ask of one thing from you¡ªone condition, rather. So long as you respect me¡ªI will respect you. But if you don¡¯t¡­¡± I slump to my knees, trying to grab on to something to stop my world from spinning endlessly, ¡°well, I cannot guarantee what will happen. But¡­ in any case, you can live your life¡ªcaring for your orphanage without a worry in the world. Even sleep well at night knowing I will not loom over your shoulder. ¡°I look forward to your continued cooperation, Madame Scarface.¡± Unable to maintain consciousness for much longer, my world fades to black.
Violent shakes bring me out of a horrible, gut-wrenching dream. When I open my eyes, I see only a burly man, sobbing uncontrollably, his tears splashing on my face as he cradles me. My body, mostly stricken with exhaustion, remains paralyzed. Miraculously, I manage in wiggling an arm free to stroke Brutus¡¯s face. ¡°Li,¡± Brutus chokes, ¡°oh my god, Li, I was so worried, dear god, I¡­,¡± Brutus vainly wipes his eyes off with his collar, ¡°I should¡¯ve realized sooner when all these thugs sat around us¡­¡± he takes a hand and wipes the splotches from my face, ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, Li, I¡¯ve failed you yet again. What am I even good for?!¡± I only weakly shake my head, ¡°no¡­ Brutus,¡± the words come slurred, but I persevere, ¡°it is my fault that your lives remained at stake¡­¡± I clear my throat, enduring great pain to grin, ¡°but I wish you would be a little more gentle with me.¡± Brutus clenches his teeth, more tears rain down on me, ¡°I love you, Li,¡± the oaf utters, squeezing me in his embrace. I can¡¯t help but let out an embarrassed, pained grunt. ¡°Olga¡­ is she safe?¡± I stammer, Brutus is quick to give a nod, ¡°if she was here, I¡¯d think she¡¯d kill you that,¡± Brutus lets out a pained chuckle at that remark. ¡°I think¡­ there¡¯s more than enough of you for everyone to love equally,¡± Brutus remarks. My cheeks flush red, eyes dart around. The realization that I¡¯ve more or less still naked as Brutus embraces me so tightly. Brutus calms down after some time and pulls himself away keeping his gaze averted from me. Coughing loudly, Brutus speaks, ¡°Olga and them should be here shortly,¡± Brutus says, ¡°we still have time to get you ready and leave.¡± ¡°I think¡­ I want to stay here a little longer,¡± I remark, covering myself with my towel. Brutus turns his head partway, with his eyes trained elsewhere. ¡°¡­Are you sure?¡± Brutus asks, a hushed tone, ¡°what if Kamon¡ª¡° I rest a hand on his shoulder, smiling despite the burning pain, ¡°there is no need to worry about that anymore, I believe¡­ Kamon has spared me¡ªus, rather. And she has no intention of going back on her word.¡± ¡°Her word?¡± Brutus muses, ¡°what do you mean?¡± ¡°You ask too many questions,¡° I tug on his sleeve, ¡°and just this once, I want you to take my word for it: we¡¯re free, for lack of a better word,¡± I say, warmly. He looks down at my hand briefly before returning my gaze. ¡°If you say so¡­¡± Brutus muses, he points with a thumb at the door, ¡°if you want me to wait outside again, I can¡ª¡° ¡°No,¡± I say, the color rushes to my cheeks again, ¡°I don¡¯t mind if you relax in the sauna with me.¡± ¡°But what if Olga gets the wrong ide¡ª¡° I lean forward and place a finger on his lips. ¡°Once she comes, she can join us too,¡± I smile weakly, ¡°I think we all need a break. My worries¡ªand to the extent all of yours¡ªare over, essentially. Though I don¡¯t know what the future may hold,¡± I wipe Brutus¡¯s still wet eyes carefully, ¡°at least we can pursue happiness¡ªand even freedom, whatever that may entail.¡± Brutus sighs, and places his hand over mine. ¡°Very well,¡± Brutus remarks, ¡°I¡¯ll go¡­ er, to the lockers then and be back,¡± he gets up with a grunt. Just as Brutus heads out the sauna door, he turns to face me, ¡°though, I think Olga would still rip me to shreds when she sees us together¡­ she scares me, you know.¡± ¡°You¡¯ll be fine,¡± I say reassuringly. Brutus cuts loose a sigh and closes the door behind him. Though, I cannot guarantee he¡¯ll leave this place unscratched. Olga might be a little mad at me, too, but I¡¯m sure she¡¯ll get over it. As I sink into my seat, I sigh heavily¡­ and thus, with that, my doubts of my future¡ªand Kamon¡ªwash away. Chapter 89: Toscana Requiem | Faraway Wishes, Faraway Desires
FOUR DAYS LATER
LI''S MANOR
I drum my fingers on the smooth, black marble-like surface. With each tap, vibrant colors ripple from my probing touch. It''s a holographic game table, projecting several horizontal planes depicting a game of three-dimensional shogi. On four of the boards are small, bright-green, and light-pink pieces opposing each other in a rather cluttered fashion. The fifth board, on the middle right plane, is rather empty, and Sergi contests it with a single promoted knight. A few hours ago, Sergi expressed interest in passing time by playing Shogi while waiting for Brutus and Olga to return from the city. Being a little rusty myself, I found myself more than happy to abide by his request. It¡¯s a rare chance to show off my skills after losing to Simon so many times in the past. Perhaps I got a little overboard with myself. Or, rather, a little cocky. Sergi, despite being a complete beginner, wins the first game rather quickly¡ªa little over twenty minutes. In our second match, Sergi dominated me on nearly all boards except my home. But a small breakthrough in his rear quickly allows for a surge of reinforced drops on my part following a swift stranglehold on his main pieces, and a concise check of his king. This second match lasts a little longer, a little over an hour and a half according to the clock on the side. With the score being one-to-one, I felt like neither of us wanted it to end there. Olga and Brutus aren¡¯t here yet. More drumming of the table. And now, we¡¯re well past the mid-way mark of our third game, and unlike the previous games I find myself back in a tricky predicament like before. Unfortunately, it¡¯s been proving difficult turning the tide around. On the central middle battlefield¡ªthe fourth board, and the center-left plane¡ªthe first board¡ªhas been seeing my spearhead formation slowly crumble. The push into board three¡ªmore or less Sergi ¡¯s home board¡ªon the top plane starts strong. In a matter of turns, it appears as though I could corner Sergi¡¯s king. But with a strong push comes strong defiance, and the sharp increase of my pieces getting captured. A number of my turns shift into a painstakingly crafted static defense. Simon chips away in the middle just as slowly¡ªa back-and-forth battle of attrition not in my favor. The distance to Sergi¡¯s king piece grows wide. I lose ground, but Simon feeds me pawns¡ªmostly composed of captured pieces that I regrettably sacrificed to acquire superiority on the first and fourth boards. Several pawns I (re)capture mean trading some of my knights and bishops. In terms of numbers, I gain more in quantity, but Sergi is more than capable of deploying his captured pieces and tipping the scales considerably with quality offense pieces. But from the positions Sergi can deploy them on, Sergi will face the possibility of immediately losing them anyway given my moderate superiority. Realistically, he could set up a formation behind his lines, therefore losing the initiative in his breakthroughs but mildly pushing the front lines further. In Sergi¡¯s case, it¡¯s a complete and utter slog no matter how I look at it. In my case, I simply cannot do anything but hold the lines. Any gamble of brute-forcing and regaining ground in the middle board will only end in pointless sacrifices. My attention turns to the fifth board. Connecting to the fourth, third, and second boards, there¡¯s a lot of room for outflanking. Yet, until Sergi¡¯s recent turn placing a single piece there, neither of us concentrated any pieces here. Sergi has little room for error: any turns he dares spends in the first and fifth boards is vulnerable on the main fourth board. Likewise, any effort I could put into the fifth board would mean being overstretched than I already am. However, I do have a few pieces on my second home board. None of them are particularly useful at the moment. Given they are originally pawns that I never moved off the board: pieces that I intended to promote and fulfill the role of any captured pieces. Reserves, in other words. But that¡¯s all they are, simple reserves. It could take a few turns promoting them into versatile, strong units. If Sergi wants to, he could gamble on fielding his captured pieces there, and either encircle me on the fourth board, or flank into the second and take my small line of pawns by surprise. My defenses on the fourth board¡ªstrong as they are¡ªremain stretched and cracking under pressure. The first board is manageable, given that his pieces there remain held at bay, and divided from his main formations on the third and fourth boards. But the point of Shogi is not to kill¡­ or rather, in this game¡¯s case, capture all your enemies: the objective is the king. Though, it could be beneficial to capture his pieces on the first board in particular and therefore stem the tide in the middle¡ªand even the third board¡ªwith overwhelming numbers. But by spending my turns finishing off his small, helpless force on the first board means Sergi could gain the upper hand in the center battlefield. As frustrating as it is, half my pieces on the first board are unable to be put to real use. It¡¯s a dilemma that tactfully works for that board¡ªfor Sergi. And even so, it strategically works for him on board four. I lean forward to rest elbows on the obsidian table, hands clasped over my chin. A fluctuation of colorful lights gives life to the table. And yet, that brings me back to the situation in table five. With each passing turn, Sergi seemingly pays no further attention to it. At the same time, Sergi still has a score of captured pieces laying on the sidelines: no seeming interest to deploy them anywhere. And I simply cannot make any sense of it. Sergi spends a turn here with the nonsensical indecisiveness maneuvering of tiles on his home board. A turn spent there trying to break out from the first board¡ªa rebuff from me in the fourth board. Sometimes a decision by me to advance any pieces spurs him to put a piece down to deter any movement. A glance at the clock: almost forty-six minutes in, and we are at an impasse. All the while, the fifth board remains no-man¡¯s-land. ¡°Sergi,¡± I mutter, stroking the scar running along my face, ¡°if we keep up this indecisiveness any longer, we will have to call it a draw,¡± Sergi only mumbles under his breath. Sergi shifts around in his seat, folding one leg over the other. His gaze shifts between the game and the window as he props his chin up with a fist. Just as I want to provoke him more, there¡¯s a whishing of the parlor¡¯s door somewhere behind us. I glance behind to see Haru approaching us with a tray of charcoal-brown cast iron teaware. She whistles a happy tune and appears rather absentmindedly with a childish smile. It¡¯s only when Haru sets the tray down on the coffee table next to us does she seemingly come to her senses. Interestingly, she stares absentmindedly at Sergi for what seems like an unsettlingly long time. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Sergi mutters, ¡°did I¡­ seem to startle you?¡± Sergi, with his attention still on Haru, sets down a rook on the fifth board. ¡°Oh!¡± Haru says, ¡°um,¡± the timid woman glances at me for help, ¡°I didn¡¯t expect you to have any¡­ er, visitors, do you want some time alone¡­?¡± Sergi waves his hand. I spend my turn promoting one of my reserve pawns into a silver general. ¡°No, no, it¡¯s fine,¡± Sergi says, ¡°the name¡¯s Sergi, or Serg, or,¡± Sergi pauses to put down a bishop piece on the fifth board, ¡°I¡¯m a friend of Li here¡ªI¡¯m part of the Castelforte crew, perhaps we simply never met before? ¡± ¡°I see¡­¡± Haru muses, she looks over at her tray, ¡°I¡¯ve been so used to the presence of the security guards shuffling around that it feels so bizarre seeing anyone else other than Bru¡ªtey and Miss Olga.¡± ¡°Bru,¡± a profound scoff from Sergi; a glance at me with a smirk, ¡°¡ªutey?¡± ¡°It¡¯s¡­ an affectionate nickname,¡± I remark, promoting another pawn, ¡°Olga was the one who started it. Seems like it has rubbed off on most of us by now, hasn¡¯t it?¡± Sergi sets down another piece on the fifth board¡ªthis time, one of my silver generals. Even if all I have are pawns, my situation might be difficult to assess overall. ¡°Well, anyway,¡± Sergi looks at the tray Haru brought with her, ¡°I¡¯m guessing one of those isn¡¯t for me, are they?¡± Haru shakes her head. ¡°No¡­ I¡¯m really sorry. I figured Li was cooped up in here all alone. Since the kids aren¡¯t being welcoming, I decided some peace and quiet wouldn''t hurt¡­ I hope you don¡¯t mind, Madame Li, ¡± Haru says, curling her locks of hair.¡± ¡°Not at all, the more company the merrier,¡± I remark, ¡°it was going a little dull having Sergi as company¡­ he¡¯s never been the sociable type,¡± it evokes a hoarse scoff from the man that I brush off, ¡°the orphans¡­ how are they doing?¡± I ask. Haru looks down, her grin curls into a sad grin. ¡°They¡¯ve been¡­ well, they¡¯ve been misbehaving a bit lately,¡± Haru remarks. She sits on a nearby ottoman, pouring herself purplish liquid into two bronze-colored cast teacups. ¡°Isabella¡­ she¡¯s been accusing me of being a traitor,¡± Haru chuckles, sipping on her tea. ¡°A traitor?¡± I say, ¡°I¡¯m guessing it¡¯s because she knows you¡¯re acquainted with¡­ what is it I was referenced to as?¡± I give Haru a warm smile, ignoring the straining pain, ¡°big-breasted scary scar lady?¡± Sergi scoffs. ¡°Not too good with adult authority, huh? Sounds about right¡ªas a role-model pirate already,¡± Sergi says dryly. The gruff subordinate peers closely at the situation on the first board. It¡¯s now or never, with his surprise buildup and subsequent push onto my third board, I capture all of his pieces on the fourth board but one. This focused gambit means my king lies exposed on the fourth board. Haru continues, ¡°I wanted to give her and the kids some alone time, so after leaving them their usual delivery of food and drinks, I headed here to recollect my thoughts,¡± Haru smiles apologetically, ¡°they¡¯ve been eating well, though. But it never seems to be enough to keep them well-fed. I want to help them out more than just providing them with food, but I feel like that could take time.¡± This time, Sergi, grabbing our attention with a sensible hum, ¡°Li, you said you were interested in looking over an orphanage did you not?¡± ¡°Huh? Ah,¡± I stroke my cheek, ¡°yes, I¡¯m guessing you found out from Brutey? ¡± A nod¡ªfollowed by a scoff, as Sergi murmurs the nickname. ¡°Part of me is glad you couldn¡¯t possibly bastardize my name like that,¡± Sergi says, running a hand through his shaggy hair. Haru continues to have an unsettling fixation on the man. ¡°Anyway, those kids¡­ they must¡¯ve called that creepy place their home after the Castelforte left port, I¡¯m guessing?¡± Haru nods in acknowledgment. Sergi sighs. ¡°Well, since you were looking to raise an orphanage of sorts, I guess it could work out if you looked over them? It means protection if things arise, I mean. Otherwise, I hope they don¡¯t get too cocky and start butting heads with the crew,¡± Sergi says, glaring at me. For a brief moment, I shift attention to the holographic Shogi game. The playing field has been getting more dynamic now: the game¡¯s time clocks in at an hour and ten minutes, and I push with my king and spearhead onto the third board. Sergi¡¯s king is guarded by a well-rounded defense¡ªbut the lack of any generals will mean he can¡¯t hold out for much longer. Haru offers the other bronze-colored teacup to me. It¡¯s hot to the touch and has a spicy, bitter aroma to it. After staring into the steamy, purplish surface, I look up at the other two. ¡°You¡¯re right, it¡¯s almost as if¡­ it¡¯s fate,¡± I smile meekly¡ªa mild sting of pain, ¡°but given what Haru said, having them warm up to me could take time but I¡¯ll make it possible. I offered Haru the chance to become a chef for me¡ªso with her to compensate for my lack of cooking skills, I can keep them from being an unruly bunch,¡± a gulp from the cup burns my tongue, ¡°I¡¯ll act as¡­ something as a motherly figure to them if nothing else,¡± I finish with a glowing smile. Haru joins her hands in a raised steeple, her smile gleaming ear to ear, ¡°what a relief that is to hear!¡± Haru exclaims, ¡°a real, big relief, madame Li. I¡¯m almost happy to hear that¡­ I¡¯m sure I have nothing else to worry about. I¡¯m sure with the two of us, they¡¯ll come around eventually and see we aren¡¯t so scary after all.¡± ¡°Pirates? Not scary? Yeah, I¡¯m sure that¡¯ll take some time,¡± Sergi retorts. Haru and I shoot glares at him, and he throws his hands up, ¡°All alright, I take it back,¡± Sergi smiles weakly, ¡°I¡¯d like to help, too, you know. Help keep Olga from doing anything too rash with the kids¡­¡± ¡°That¡¯s one way to get you to cooperate if Olga is involved,¡± I say warmly. Sergi leans back in his chair and nervously chuckles. He turns his attention to Haru. Sergi begins speaking, ¡°if it¡¯s not too much to ask, would it be possible to get a drink? Watching the two of you drink makes my mouth dry,¡± Haru, shocked, stands up in place, ¡°oh! I¡¯m so sorry. It sort of slipped my mind¡­ would you like some tea, coffee¡­?¡± Sergi tilts his head, stroking his grizzly chin. ¡°Beer?¡± Sergi muses. He glances between us with shrugged shoulders but neither of us says a word. ¡°Surely, you do have some alcohol in storage, right?¡± ¡°Unfortunately for you,¡± I say warmly, resting my head on a fist and tapping the flickering table with the other, ¡°most of it was stowed away on the Castelforte when we left. Sorry, but you¡¯ll just have to be sober for the time being.¡± ¡°Are you accusing me of being an alcoholic?¡± Sergi retorts. I merely smile in response. Sergi sighs heavily and strokes his shoulder. ¡°Coffee¡­ coffee with a few ice cubes.¡± Haru claps her hands again. ¡°Gladly! I¡¯ll be right back with all our drinks,¡± she takes one long, good glance at Sergi and hurries off into the manor proper. There''s a spell of silence upon the woman leaving. Sergi and I focus our attention back on the game of Shogi. Sergi throws everything he has available on his third board to stall defeat. His efforts in avoiding getting placed into check cause both of us to lose many game pieces. After the dust settles, both of us have a very large amount of captured pieces on the sidelines. As it stands, there are only four pieces in total left on the board. Neither of us can spare the chance to reinforce our positions. It¡¯s more of the typical back-and-forth mirror movement hoping to outwit the other, but all it does is pass time. After what feels like a continuous sequence of repetitive turns, Sergi begins to speak, ¡°that Haru woman¡­ she seems so sincere and innocent. Tell me, Li, how does a little nice lass like that mix in with the wrong crowd? What compels a lovely character like her to willingly risk her life among scummy individuals?¡± ¡°She seems to be managing well all things considered,¡± I say, brushing my blemished nose, ¡°are you worried for her? That¡¯s rather unusual for you to care about others,¡± a sly smile, ¡°my, falling for her, perhaps?¡± Sergi shifts uncomfortably in his leg, recrossing a leg over the other. Sergi clears his throat, ¡°well¡­ no,¡± his gaze darts from game piece to game piece, ¡°if that¡¯s your attempt at teasing me¡ªor at least throw me off from this game, then it¡¯s not working.¡± ¡°What a shame,¡± I say wryly, ¡°I¡¯m sure you noticed, but she seems to have to take a particular liking to you¡­ like a maiden finding her first love,¡± Sergi looks at me with a disapproving frown. Sergi retorts, ¡°barring the fact that you¡¯re the one to talk,¡± a stark scoff, ¡°I think it¡¯d be in Haru¡¯s best interest if she kept her distance from me.¡± ¡°Scared that such a pretty maiden will fall for a crude, unsophisticated man like you?¡± I say coolly, ¡°I thought about playing cupid, so to speak, herding Haru towards Brutey, but maybe I can help her out with you?¡± Sergi cuts loose an exasperating sigh, brushing the unruly dark hair from his eyes. ¡°I think you¡¯re a little delusional, Li. But at least you¡¯re in better spirits now¡­ but anyway, Haru sounds a little too innocent for her good¡­ what was it that she mentioned? The lack of security?¡± Sergi asks. I sit up straight, just as Sergi risks it all, and drops a silver general in the vain attempt to even the odds. I answer, "that is correct. Given that you were gone and busy in Valspon," I pause: then a sigh, "I suppose shedding light on what happened here would not hurt." I recollect my thoughts for a few moments and spend some time telling Sergi of the events that transpired between the time I left for L ¨¹beck back on the twenty-second, to the fateful events at the L?yly sauna. Sergi takes it all in slowly and quietly while the two of us occasionally play our turns at Shogi. When I finish, Sergi glances outside at the snow-laden landscape. "Was it the right thing to do?" Sergi asks rather wryly, his tired, calculating eyes searching the horizon. "Dismissing all your security after that incident, I mean. Would it not make sense to tighten security, at least for a while¡ªuntil it''s certain that Hwang keeps her word?" Sergi shifts his gaze until we lock eyes, "maybe she expects you to lower your guard before showing her real¡ª" "Checkmate, Sergi," I say. I casually drum the obsidian table and a reactive rainbow glow follows. Both the pink king and the virtual tile it''s on glows a contrasting brown. The helpless, cowardly king remains trapped between two promoted silver generals: a lone knight remains powerless in helping its liege. Sergi blows through his nostrils. He rests his hands atop his greasy-like hair and leans back in his chair. "You''re putting yourself at risk, Li." Wincing, I provide a slight smirk. "If one more person has to needlessly die because of me, Sergi¡ªregardless of their allegiance¡ªthere''s no way I could live with myself. I want to be able to sleep knowing that there will be no further bloodshed. I want you¡ªand everyone else¡ªto accept this and move on." Sergi takes in the Shogi situation, staring at the pop-up indicating his unfortunate demise. Then our eyes meet, and he responds with a long-winded sigh. "Move on, and live under the constant threat of retaliation?" Sergi asks, "is that the sort of life you want to live? Knowing that Madame Hwang will execute you at the slightest suspicion?" "Enough, Sergi," I say, grimly, "all I desire from you and everything else is to accept my wishes." Sergi leans forward, squinting at me through his unkempt hair. "Is that an order? A demand?" Sergi asks. I respond with a sigh, tapping the game table as I do so. "I''m asking you as my friend, Sergi," I respond warmly, "you trusted me then, at the Castelforte under a worse pretext," Sergi shifts to the side in his seat, "you voiced your objection but still followed me through the Rubicon¡­" I lean over the table, "all I ask is the same now¡­ Jung wouldn''t want us to remain divided like this for our survival." Sergi stares at the checkmate window for what seems like a long time. But finally, he taps the affirmative button and gets to his feet. "It sure as hell won''t be blind obedience, but I''ll do it if it means some semblance of peace," Sergi remarks, "Simon¡­ have you informed him of what happened at L?yly?" A brief pause, "of what happened to Jung?" I respond, "Zhui informed him, I believe, when we arrived at the harbor. But as for my confrontation with Kamon¡­ no, but I imagined he would have found out about it by now.¡± ¡°That Simon¡­ always the last to know, huh?¡± Sergi muses. Before I get the chance to respond, a whish of the entrance interrupts me. Expecting Haru, I see Olga and Brutus instead. Just behind the large oaf is the comparably small woman carrying a few extra cups of tea. Sergi and I get up from our seats to greet them. ¡°Well, you two took an awful lot of time¡ªoh?¡± Olga carries in one of her arms some folded clothes, but what catches my attention the most is the new square-shaped purple eye patch she now wears. ¡°Serg, nice of you to drop by,¡± Olga says, beaming at us both, ¡°the situation over there at Valspon¡­ I assume we no longer have anthing to worry about with the Federation fleet?¡± Sergi glances at the rest of us, a deep exhale. ¡°Not much remains of the Federation presence over there in Preuben. Richter reckons that there¡¯s hardly a token force comparable to the one we saw over Dissenland. Neither of us wanted to linger around any longer, so most of us went our separate ways,¡± Sergi leans on the table, stroking his stubble, ¡°what¡¯s that you have there? Looks like some dresses.¡± The lanky holds her arms up for a better view. One of them is a long, flowing red skirt with a black-and-white wrapped top. The other, slightly visible underneath is a one-piece dark purplish dress. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°How pretty,¡± I say, receiving one of the steamy hot cups from Haru passing by, ¡°who are they for?¡± Olga and Brutus look at me blankly briefly before Brutus responds with a slight chuckle. Brutus is the one to answer, ¡°since the Don is hosting the ceremony at his palace soon, Olga and I decided to do a little shopping for her, and¡­ uh,¡± Brutus smiles weakly, he caresses the long, bright red skirt, ¡°well, for you as well.¡± I stare at the dress, processing what Brutus just said. And once the fact dawns on me, I caress my disfigured cheek, ¡°oh.¡± ¡°We hurried back once we realized that it was going to start sooner than later,¡± Olga continues, ¡°and for the record, it was my idea to pick it out¡ªnot Brutus¡¯s.¡± Brutus turns to her with a frown, ¡°hey now, discrediting me? I was the one that pointed out it might¡ª¡° ¡°My idea, ¡± Olga retorts, beaming at him with piercing eyes, ¡°you merely agreed after I mentioned it might look good on Li. ¡± ¡°Oh, brother,¡± Sergi says, pinching his nose ridge, ¡°I feel like leaving these two alone is simply asking for trouble¡ªbloodshed, even.¡± I crack a smirk, caressing my warm, smooth cheek. Regardless, it brings me some joy that the two of us¡ªand even the rest of us¡ªcan relax. I would even say most of us can fraternize without the looming threat of a Metropolitan threat, or even from Kamon. There is no bigger relief knowing that I am no longer held under scrutiny by that woman. ¡°Madame,¡± Olga starts, ¡°if you don¡¯t mind, since we don¡¯t have enough time as-is, I¡¯d like it if we could try them on and make sure they¡¯re a proper fit.¡± I step aside to let Brutus pass by and sit down at my side. Brutus starts to speak, ¡°I guess in the meantime, ol¡¯ Serg and I will pass the time with some, uh¡­¡± Brutus squints, ¡°oh, this isn¡¯t chess, is it?¡± ¡°Space Shogi,¡± Sergi responds, ¡°and it¡¯s Sergi¡ªwith a silent e¡­ mister Bru¡ªty ¡± ¡°Right, Serg,¡± Brutus says, glaring at him, ¡°I¡¯ll keep it in mind¡­ you know how to play this? I¡¯m not as skilled as Simon, but I usually get lucky playing against the Madame sometimes¡­¡± Sergi, with an even more menacing glare, takes his seat. ¡°Something of a novice, I¡¯m more accustomed to chess myself. But I¡¯ve always liked a challenge when I see one.¡± Olga tugs on my sleeve and points at the door and Haru, ¡°we should get going¡­ I¡¯m eager to see how it looks on you,¡± Olga says. Haru, surprised, blinks owlishly, ¡°m-me? Ah¡­ I think I¡¯ll busy myself with some grub, I imagine you and Brutey must be starving, miss Olga!¡± ¡°Can you stop call¡ªagh!¡± Brutus groans. A glance at the game table makes me realize he has carelessly let his essential silver general piece get captured, and it seems like barely five turns have passed already. ¡°Man, you¡¯re rather rubbish at this,¡± Sergi muses, stroking his stubble. Smiling, Olga tells Haru that is fine, and the three of us head out for the main building, leaving Sergi and Brutus to stare intensely at each other over Shogi.
Olga and I head upstairs into one of the vacant bedrooms. She sets down the long red skirt and black top atop one side of the bed, heads over to the next side, and with her back to me begins with undressing. I watch her briefly before turning away and following her stead by stripping down. Reaching for the pile of clothes, I take the skirt first, finding its length rather surprising: measuring it against me, it seems to go a little past my waist. I set the red skirt down for now, and reach over for what I believe to be the shirt, but instead find that it¡¯s something of a dress. ¡°Have you ever worn a hanbok before, Madame?¡± Olga asks, I glance over and find that she has finished already. She wears a long-sleeved sapphire-colored dress mostly plain in design. I tilt my head at the question, trying to recall the last time I¡¯ve ever worn something so formal, much less something called a hanbok. ¡°There was one time,¡± I say, reaching for the black dress and slowly slipping it over me, ¡°many years ago when I was a child,¡± I blink, trying to tap further into my thoughts, ¡°it was a festival that my mama¡ª,¡± a subconscious bite on my lower lip, ¡°that my parents took me to¡­ but I must¡¯ve been so little, it sort of resembles this outfit here¡­ a hanbok you called it?¡± Olga nods, ¡°there were more clothing pieces,¡± I scrunch my brows, bearing the mild pain from the scar, ¡°this design seems simple in comparison, though.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Olga says, her gaze to the bed, ¡°I thought you would¡¯ve liked it¡­ you don¡¯t have to wear it if you want.¡± I take a step to Olga, taking her hands and caressing them. ¡°You must be under the wrong impression,¡± I say warmly, ¡°it¡¯s a lovely design, Olga. I love it,¡± Olga smiles weakly, stroking me on the head, ¡°I¡¯ll wear it of course¡­ even if I have to begrudgingly wear it for Zhui¡¯s ceremony.¡± Olga smiles more convincingly this time and pats me on the head. "As long as I get the chance to see you in it," Olga says, "I don''t care much about anything else." Olga smiles, apparently examining me in the long tunic so far. She purses her lips, "since you never worn¡­ or rather, you haven''t put one on in so long, would you like me to help you with it?" I open my mouth to respond, but before I can do so Olga spins me around. The motion leaves me dizzy, but Olga''s firm grip is enough to keep me steady in place. I suppose I wouldn''t have a say in the matter either way. Olga''s hands smoothly slide all over me as she carefully slips each article of clothing on. As Olga does so, a thought crosses my mind. ¡°I didn¡¯t get the chance to ask earlier, but did you encounter Simon at all when you were in the city?¡± I ask, craning my head slightly to the side. Olga doesn¡¯t stop, but she does hum for a bit. ¡°Master Simon?¡± Olga muses ¡°yes, he just now came back from the planet, it seems. Master Simon¡­¡± Olga trails off, not once stopping with tying up my hanbok¡¯s outer skirt garment. I crane my head some more, curious by what she meant. ¡°Olga? Did something happen with Simon?¡± I ask, reaching to stroke my warm blemished cheek. Olga responds, ¡°sorry, um¡­ he didn¡¯t really specify anything about his L¨¹beck visit. Master Simon looked rather pale before we encountered him, but he eased up and livened when we briefly talked,¡± Olga clears her throat, helping me with sliding on the white-sleeved cherry-dotted outer sleeves. ¡°Did¡­ did you tell him about the incident at L?yly?¡± I ask, quietly. Olga stops, breathing in long and exhaling heavily. When it¡¯s apparent Olga isn¡¯t going to respond, I place my hands over hers. ¡°He didn¡¯t take it very well, did he?¡± ¡°Master Simon¡­ he was greatly distraught,¡± Olga says, balling her hands into fists. ¡°Once he learned about what happened, he hurried off to the bastard¡¯s palace but Simon wouldn¡¯t say as to why¡ªfor what reason,¡± Olga says, rather quietly. My chest stings a little. But I know better than to believe Simon would do anything rash. He would¡¯ve known this would happen sooner or later¡ªI suppose it was only going to be a matter of time. Inevitable. Olga resumes helping me put on the hanbok. I feel as though now the room¡¯s atmosphere is too stiff. ¡°On a somewhat related note,¡± I say, ¡°while we¡¯re on the subject of the ¡®L?yly incident¡¯, I¡¯m relieved to know you aren¡¯t giving me the¡­ um, for lack of a better word, cold shoulder about¡­¡± my cheeks redden at the peculiar memory, ¡°well, I¡¯m happy that you aren¡¯t ignoring me as you did after that day,¡± I say warmly. Looking down, something is off. Or rather, am I imagining things, or is Olga tightening the bow too much? ¡°Olga? I think this is good enough, you don¡¯t need to tie it any further¡ª¡° ¡°Cold shoulder?¡± The blonde says, sternly, ¡°that¡¯s a new one I haven¡¯t heard before,¡± at this point, it does seem like Olga is deliberately over-tying it. No, I must be imagining it. Is this how they¡¯re usually done? What was Olga¡¯s tone with me just now? ¡°Olga? It¡¯s kind of hard to¡ª¡° I am cut off by Olga grunting and pulling hard on both ends of the bow, and an embarrassing high-pitched cry escapes my lips. What follows is lightheartedness as I find it momentarily difficult to breathe properly. Olga begins to speak, in a less stern tone, ¡°Sorry! I think my hands slipped. I¡¯m still getting used to this mechanical arm¡­ it feels like I don¡¯t know my strength anymore.¡± Olga acts quickly in loosening it a little, just enough to the point where I can breathe in and out properly again. Turning around, I glare at the towering Olga with a pout. ¡°Olga¡­¡± I say quietly, ¡°are you still upset about that?¡± I break off my gaze with her, taking a step back, ¡°I mean¡­ I suppose it would make sense for you to be,¡± a pause,¡± you¡¯re¡­ you¡¯re mad at me, aren¡¯t you? I guess it does explain why you would¡­ ignore me so much,¡± my lips quiver as I lock eyes with Olga again. Her expression changes to distraught, and she pulls me closer to her in a tight embrace. ¡°Li¡­ I could never let something so trivial and so silly get between us,¡± Olga says, ¡°I¡­ you mean too much to me for that to cause any sort of misconception between us. If I hated you for even a moment, how could I live with myself? ¡± ¡°There¡¯s more to this world than just me, Olga,¡± I reply softly. Olga holds me tighter in her embrace. A deep sigh from the woman. ¡°You are my world, Li,¡± she says. My face reddens as I find myself at a loss for words. ¡°Thank you, Olga,¡± I say, mustering the strength to squeeze her back. After a while, Olga pulls herself away, smiling wholeheartedly. She eyes me down again and turns to head out the door. ¡°Ah¡­ heading out so soon?¡± I ask, surprising myself at the timidness in my voice. Olga smiles sly back at me. ¡°I¡¯ll let the guys know we¡¯ll be ready to go. Rami is downstairs waiting to take us,¡± Olga proceeds to head out the door, but pauses and traces her steps peeking in, ¡°don¡¯t get lonely on me so fast, okay?¡± I only glare at Olga with another pouty voice as she smiles again and steps out the door. Finding myself left alone, I wander the bedroom and make my way into the balcony. It¡¯s an open-style platform with semi-transparent flooring, surrounded by a dullish-gray railing. As I make my way to the riling, the cold, familiar breeze brushes off me, touching my mature scar tissue with a tingling sensation. I¡¯ve been cooped up in my room these past few days for so long that I find the breeze welcoming, even if it does make me wince a little. Just sliding my hand across the metallic bars is enough to give me shivers. I look upon the vibrant clusters of houses that dot the mountainous valley. They bring color to an otherwise plain landscape and are populated by people that are just as eccentric. This loving community, as mishmash as it is, is composed of individuals from all walks of life. Even those who I have previously considered my foes now live comfortably right at home, content with living peaceful lives. Reflecting on it like this, I suppose I¡¯ve been merciful in some ways, have I not? Allowing outstanding individuals to prove their loyalty to their fellow crewmen and me that there is a possibility of putting aside differences to live a new life. I tighten my grip on the railing. If humans can put aside their differences so easily, and adapt to an environment that has been previously hostile to them, then is there hope of ending this perpetual cycle of maiming and killing that has existed since the dawn of man? One day, the Metropolitans¡ªor by extension, the Ruthense or some of the other colonial factions¡ªwill confront and lay siege to the Toscana region. But that could come decades from now¡ªcenturies even, but that¡¯s more of a stretch. And maybe, it simply won¡¯t come at all. Perhaps the Federation as an entity will fracture or reform itself into something more autonomous¡ªa less focus on outward expansion and costly military expeditions and focus on keeping itself stabilized? Of course, that is nothing that I could, much less anyone else, could predict. No political foundation can withstand the passage of time. As my gaze shifts through the town to the lonesome chapel, I can¡¯t help but take pity upon its sad state of affairs. It¡¯s unlit, most likely freezing, and the thought of the children freezing and starving even now after their long trek from the slums disheartens me greatly. One day, I will die. Rather that is by illness, old age, or in a battle against some foe, I¡¯ve accomplished so much for the Mafia¡­ and yet it seems as though I have done very little. I failed to prevent large-scale bloodshed on two occasions, and thousands have perished as a result. I¡¯ve left hundreds more with harbors awaiting the return of ships that will never set sight on their loved ones again. I¡¯ve protected people now, but can I protect people in the future? I stroke my chest, sliding my hand down my stomach. If I were to have children¡ªor adopt any¡ªcould I guarantee that, even after my passing, could I set them up for a nice and comfortable lifestyle, much like me and many others can experience now? I look up at the chapel again. There is no such thing as a happy ending for pirates. Those were one of Jung¡¯s last words to me before he met an untimely passing. Even now, I cannot say for certain if the man is right or wrong in his judgment. My crimes, past and present, are too great to bear now, but there¡¯s no telling what the future may entail. My contemporaries may depict me as a horrible character, but perhaps generations from now could paint my actions, my characters in a fairer light. Regardless of how my fate will go, and how I will be perceived for centuries to go, all I can do is live in the moment. As of this moment, I¡¯m free. I¡¯m free of Kamon¡¯s crosshairs and I¡¯m free of the Metropolitan threat. I¡¯ve been given more freedom now than I¡¯ve ever possibly had in my life with the Mafia. Despite what Sergi retorted, I¡¯m free of fear, of crippling anxiety, of paranoia of what may happen to me next. And I will use that freedom to raise orphans like Isabella. I want to give them a chance at life, to share that sense of comfort with them for as long as I possibly can. I want them to feel loved, to feel wanted. In a sense, to live my life through them¡­ a life that for the most part I could only dream of having. A life full of tender loving care and for them to know that their being matters¡ªbecause they do matter. And yet, when I reach up and glance at the starry space visible through the open Side panel, I can only wonder¡­ could there be a day where I can be free and meet Victoria again? Could there ever truly be a time where the Mafia can co-exist with the Federation¡­ if not slowly be integrated into the Metropolitan fold? I want to see Victoria again. I want to feel her smooth, delicate hands interlocked with mine again. I want to peer into those ruby-like eyes just one more time. I want to tell her my stories and hear of hers, too. Is it an impossible wish? A dream so far away, I could only reach out for it but never grasp? Is this the extent of my freedom? A heavy-like cloth weighs on my shoulders¡ªand I realize it¡¯s my poncho. I turn around to find that Olga is back. She¡¯s taken a few steps back and now leans against the open door-frame, arms folded under breasts. ¡°Sorry, Madame, I didn¡¯t mean to startle you,¡± she says. A tilt of her head, ¡°someone weighing on your mind? Unsure about going to the ceremony after all?¡± ¡°No, no, nothing like that,¡± I respond, turning to gaze at the mountainous settlement, ¡°I simply lost my way in a stream of consciousness about everything we¡¯ve done to this point,¡± I pause for a long sigh, ¡°a reflection of what has been done, and what is to come. Will we live a life of blissful luxury, in peace and freedom? Or will I have to inevitably look forward to a life of never-ending conflict with the Federation? Many questions beckon to me on the long road ahead. Questions that I am unsure about. Answers that I want to know¡­ is freedom truly the most desirable thing? What exactly does freedom entail?¡± I turn to face Olga. ¡°Do you believe, Olga, that one day we can live in harmony with the Federation? That one day, I can walk a free woman to wherever my heart¡¯s content, and do whatever I may wish without fear of prosecution? Could there ever truly be a day that my life¡ªand everyone else¡¯s¡ªcan truly experience what it means to live a long and fulfilling life? To fall in love, to grow old and die, surrounded by loved ones?¡± a brief pause, ¡°could there ever truly be a day where I can meet and befriend Victoria again? Do I have that right to do so despite us killing each other¡¯s comrades for the most ill-conceived reasons? ¡°I wish that one day the Madame Scarface dies¡ªa fade into obscurity. I desire to live and experience more of life as myself¡ªas Li Chou and to be seen by the world as Li Chou. I think in some ways, my meeting with Victoria reminded me of my humanity¡ªshe reminded me that Li is still alive after all these years. I don¡¯t want to be burdened by my past any longer, Olga. I want to only look forward to a better future¡ªnot just for myself, but for the chapel orphans, too. Even if I cannot live an eventful life for myself¡ªeven if I cannot achieve a happy ending of my own, I can at least provide them one,¡± I lock eyes with Olga, ¡°we can provide for them a life that most of us were denied. ¡°Sorry¡­¡± I say warmly, rubbing my disfigured cheek, ¡°I got a little carried away, didn¡¯t I?¡± Olga seems to ponder the monologue for a moment before shaking her head. She comes over and leans on the cold railing¡ªand slightly towards me: her tilted head touches mine. ¡°I¡¯m sure that your wishes will come true, eventually, Li,¡± Olga says softly, ¡°no grudges last forever, no resentment is eternal. I¡¯m sure one day the two of us can meet with Viktoria again. It could be years from now, but I¡¯m confident it could happen. I¡¯m just as eager to see who this Viktoria person is for myself,¡± Olga smiles heartedly, ¡°I have her to thank for changing you¡­ for opening your eyes. Even if I am a little jealous that you seem so fascinated with her.¡± ¡°Olga?¡± I ask, blinking owlishly. The lanky blonde scoffs and caress my bangs. ¡°I¡¯m only kidding, Li,¡± Olga says, wrapping her mechanical arm around me, ¡°partially, anyway.¡± ¡°Olga¡­¡± I mutter. Olga chuckles, leaning further on the railing, and I follow her gaze over the mountainous, vibrant valley. ¡°I never realized until now how wonderfully pretty this view of the settlement is, don¡¯t you think?¡± I ask, glancing at Olga. ¡°It¡¯s nowhere near as gorgeous as you, Li,¡± comes Olga¡¯s abrupt reply, ¡°even though I only have one eye, your beauty shines twice as brightly compared to the village,¡± I turn away to hide my blushing, ¡°I can only wish I had two eyes to savor this moment in its fullest. If I had lost both eyes¡­ I¡¯d forever be distraught knowing I could never be graced in seeing you anymore,¡± Olga says. I glance back at Olga, who looks on absentmindedly. ¡°I¡¯ll always be here to act as your eyes, Olga,¡± I say warmly. A rare sight of Olga blushing as her eye darts around nervously. With one hand, I caresses her face and carefully rub the side with her purple eye patch. As I gaze into her beady eye, I can¡¯t help but find her more charming than usual. My heart beats fast as my gaze shifts up and down, her pinkish-red lips pursed together as she tilts her head with one brow raised. I¡¯ve always viewed Olga as a liable person. As a subordinate who wouldn¡¯t hesitate to execute any orders I give her. As I look deeper into those hazel eyes, it leaves me to wonder if I¡¯ve ever thought of Olga as a woman¡­ if I ever saw her as something even more than just a companion. The longer I feel drawn into her eye, the more my cheeks and my facial scar burn red. Olga mutters my name, but I ignore it. And without realizing it, I push myself up on tiptoes and press my lips to hers. It¡¯s only for a moment, and I pull away. Olga blushes a fiery red, as she fumbles for words at my unexpected gesture. ¡°We should get going,¡± I say, pulling the poncho over me tightly, ¡°we wouldn¡¯t want to keep the others waiting any longer.¡± And without giving Olga the chance to respond, I dart out of the room for downstairs.
Making my way onto the front porch, I am greeted by Rami and the others¡ªand then I stop in my tracks. Among the group are a dozen kids, all armed with ladles, rakes, and bats. At the helm is a stern Isabella, folding her arms as she tries to peer at the adults on even ground. She¡¯s the first to spot me¡ªand she lightens up as a result. The others follow their gaze and seemingly sigh collectively. ¡°Well, well, if it isn¡¯t the princess herself,¡± Sergi says wryly¡ªa sharp nudge from Brutus. ¡°You look utterly remarkable,¡± Brutus says, protecting his sides from Sergi, ¡°breathtaking, even.¡± ¡°Thanks, Brutus,¡± I respond, caressing my still-burning cheeks, ¡°sorry for the wait, but what¡¯s going on?¡± I ask, peering between the two groups. Isabella clears her throat and steps forward. Unlike the others, she remains empty-handed. ¡°We¡¯re here to deliver our demands!¡± One of Isabella¡¯s lackeys declared; a rather obese fellow. In a way, he reminds me of Brutus. Isabella reels around to tell him to shush. She turns to face me again, a look of concern. Isabella takes a deep breath and comes closer to me. The petite, purple-haired girl continuously averts her gaze as she gets closer. ¡°Um¡­¡± Isabella mutters, she nervously clutches her tattered apron, ¡°um¡­ I,¡± she takes another deep breath, consciously avoiding eye contact still, ¡°big booby lady, um¡­¡± to my surprise, she does a swift bow, ¡°I¡¯m sorry! I¡¯m really sorry for my behavior the other day! Um¡­¡± a clearing of her throat, ¡°I-I didn¡¯t mean to come up here and confront you like this¡­ I wanted to come to say sorry sooner, but the really big scary men walking around your house, they were, um¡­¡± ¡°The scary men won¡¯t be around anymore, Isabella,¡± I say softly. I slowly get to my knees before Isabella, and I place a hand on her timid shoulder. The young girl looks up and locks eyes with me. ¡°Lady¡­?¡± Isabella says, she purses her lips together, and tears begin to form in her eyes, ¡°you¡¯re not mad at me for the snowball I threw at you¡­?¡± I shake my head, her lips increasingly tremble. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ I caused you and, and Miss Haru so much trouble, didn¡¯t I? Coming into that chapel place¡­¡± ¡°Li,¡± I mutter. Isabella tilts her head. ¡°L-Li?¡± Isabella asks. ¡°That is my name, Li¡ªLi Chou,¡± I hold Isabella closer in an embrace, ¡°Isabella¡­ no more bad things will happen to you. You don¡¯t have to run anymore from any troubles,¡± Isabella shivers as she sniffles and gasps, ¡°you coming into the abandoned chapel is perhaps a sign of fate. Maybe it was our destiny to meet,¡± I pull Isabella away, wiping her reddish eyes in the process, ¡°so you don¡¯t have to cry anymore, okay?¡± Isabella hesitates with averted eyes, a gaping mouth¡ªbut quickly nods. ¡°Y-you¡¯ll take care of us?¡± Isabella stammers, her violet eyes locks eyes with mine, ¡°you¡¯ll really, really¡­ take care of me?¡± I grin weakly as I respond, ¡°I may be a terrible cook compared to Haru, but I¡¯ll do what I can to be a foster¡­ parent,¡± and to my surprise, Isabella throws herself onto me¡ªsqueezing me tightly. Her tears stream down and soak my cloak¡¯s mantle. ¡°Let¡¯s do our best from here on, Isabella.¡± ¡°I-I will, Miss Li¡­¡± Isabella chokes between sobs, ¡°thank you, thank you for being my light, Li Li¡­¡± Isabella says. After which, Isabella seems to calm down. With a deep breath, I gesture Isabella to let go and I get up to dust the snow off my knees. She glances behind her at the others out of curiosity. ¡°Um¡­ did I catch you as you were leaving?¡± Isabella asks, her eyes admiring Rami¡¯s car. I smile wryly, patting her head. ¡°A visit to a big, scary place hosted by a big, scary man,¡± I say warmly, ¡°I¡¯ll be back soon¡­ and I¡¯ll play with you as much as you want. So in the meantime, let¡¯s be nice to Miss Haru and do as she says, okay?¡± Isabella nods obediently and runs off to join her crew. Afterward, I head into the backseat of Rami¡¯s car alongside Olga¡ªwith Brutus in the front-side passenger seat. I glance at Olga, and then at Sergi and Haru outside. ¡°Sergi isn¡¯t joining us?¡± I ask. ¡°Seems he wants to help out with the kids,¡± Olga answers, ¡°he said he feels guilty leaving Haru by her lonesome with all these kids.¡± ¡°Well, that sounds fair,¡± Brutus adds, ¡°this car isn¡¯t big enough for all of us.¡± ¡°My, are you sure it¡¯s not just of your size alone?¡± I ask laconically, ¡°anyway¡­ I¡¯m surprised the roles aren¡¯t switched¡ªwith you staying and Sergi coming. Cold feet with Haru, already?¡± Brutus glances at us and scoffs, grumbling something under his breath. As the car rumbles away, I take one last good glance at Isabella and the others as they run after us and wave us off. I return the wave and sit back in my seat to look at Olga. She averts my gaze at first, but eventually gives in and returns a glowing smile. All is well now. Chapter 90: Toscana Requiem | Banquet of Decadence, Rami''s car zips past the rows of trees, shrubbery, and parked cars until the great white palace of the Don dominates the view. It''s been so long since I''ve visited, I can''t help but marvel at the mansion''s timeless beauty. There is no line of cars ahead of us, allowing Rami to cruise past the gate without further delay. Oddly, from what I observe thus far, security is particularly absent except for a fellow dozing off on his chair, who only gives us a passing nod of acknowledgment. It does feel a little off. A slight nagging that tugs on me. It seems rather uncharacteristic of Zhui to be light on security¡ªquite the opposite even by his normal standards. But it is not a point I dwell on, and not something I share with others. Who am I to judge for his apparent lack of paranoia on this occasion? I put the thought aside as Rami pulls up onto the huge circular driveway connecting to the equally massive building complex. It must be sometime past noon on this side of the Side now; it''s gotten dark without me noticing. On that note, I find myself distracted by the various searchlights cast alongside the mansion''s exterior. They illuminate the mansion''s exterior, giving it and the vicinity a bright orangish-yellow hue. Rami parks the car at an available spot, and the four of us make our way past the parking lot for the front lot. British whistles a tune, as he glances around the vast yard. "Lovely place, isn''t it? I''m kind of jealous I passed up on living here," Brutus says "actually, I''m surprised you moved away from here, Madame. It doesn''t seem like it''s all that bad." "Lovely place undeserving of a wretched owner," I answer wryly, to bemused subordinates, "the sooner I left, the better off I was getting proper sleep." "That''s one way of putting it," Brutus says. The oaf nervously glances around us as we make our way through the yard. Of course, there is more to it than simply not living with Zhui. As glamorous as it is, I have always found it disheartening that Zhui cares more about his estate than the welfare of the people he presides over. Most of the guests present are part of the Don''s various cabals: Brunsb ¨¹ttel elite, visiting mayors, and civilian authorities from other parts of the Toscana region. Of course, most of their relations with Zhui are superficial at best. The ruling caste in Toscana welcomed our seizure of power back then practically with open arms. Part of it was likely because of Kamon if I have to guess, with regards to security agencies. But on the civilian side of things, many chose to respect Zhui out of fear. Zhui''s reputation¡ªand by extension even mine extends to the far reaches of the galaxy. Even a backwater region like Toscana would¡¯ve known of Zhui''s atrocities. Yet, it''s as if the Toscana upper class treat him as their own¡ªout of necessity, out of cowardliness. This extravaganza unfolding around us is a far cry from our life before Toscana; before Abassi. Back then, I''ve seen our ruthlessness as a necessity, a cutthroat means to survive day-to-day in an endless struggle against Metropol and colonial ventures to curb our power¡ªa battle that in some way, we have lost. And on the contrary, a battle we have won: this distasteful ceremony is proof of that. Even observing Zhui roar with laughter, crowded by fancy-dressed guests makes me realize Toscana made Zhui lenient in his ways. He''s less of a cruel, inhumane pirate now than he is a hands-off, lazy dictator content with living in his high castle, enjoying the undeserved fruits of labor that lowly captains fought and died for. Reflecting on it now, perhaps it is simply new management for the Toscana elite. Having long been forgotten by their Metropol counterparts, I would guess our crossing of the Rouen corridor was merely the final nail in the coffin. For them, it is merely appeasing and adapting, or speaking out and disappearing. There is no resistance, no conspiracies to depose of the Don. It remains unsettling knowing that the ones who continue to suffer the most are the average citizen. Unknowingly abandoned by Terra, and with now dashed hopes of liberation from our yoke. And yet, day-by-day we have a population that merely sits down and accepts that this is simply their life¡ªnothing has changed since our arrival. Simon and I have done what we could to maintain the status quo, and give what reasonable liberties we can afford the Toscananse citizen. Occasionally, I stop to entertain guests with small talk. A compliment about my dress there. A toast to my health here and there. But I can see it in their eyes, the careful pauses in their speeches, the caution in smiling at the right times, the worry of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. The careful consideration in not upsetting the daughter of the Don. So long as the Madame Scarface is pleased with me, then I have nothing to worry about. Even as the three of us move between groups, I peek back at the occasional guess shuffling away, collective sighs of relief knowing the heads on their shoulders are safe. I simply despise each and everyone''s fakeness. For all my talk of being free, is this what it comes to? To drink carelessly and partake in this courtly-like lifestyle as if dining like aristocratic? It merely leaves a sickening feeling in my stomach. Brutus and Olga, on the other hand, are enjoying themselves with free meat skewers and wine glasses. When Olga takes notice, she smiles dreamily. ¡°When you¡¯re frowning like that, Madame, you scare away all the conversation,¡± Olga says matter of factly, she takes a wine glass with transparent liquid and presses it to my chest, ¡°you should loosen up a little, if you don¡¯t you¡¯ll prematurely go gray.¡± With a roll of eyes, I accept Olga¡¯s unprovoked gift and slowly sip on it. Brutus is more than happy to share the remainder of his skewer with me, leaving him with only a half-empty wine glass. Brutus downs the rest of his glass before chiming in, ¡°y¡¯know, Olga is right. Times like this you should learn to relax, Madame. I mean, we went out of our way to visit, right? Regardless of your opinion of Zhui, you can¡¯t deny the food he¡¯s servicing us is great!¡± I should''ve known it would take something as simple as food to give Brutus some convincing. I only respond with an unwinding sigh, a sag of my shoulders. I expected better of both. I tap the metal skewer as we wander into the enormous dining area: overhead a massive golden chandelier. Zhui had entered before us sometime before, and I spot him doing one of his usual toasts at one of his cliques, a disinterested Kamon at his side. At another, Simon sticks out sorely towering over guests. ¡°By the way, are you going to eat that at all?¡± Brutus asks, I glance at him hungrily eyeing the half-eaten skewer. ¡°Didn¡¯t you eat back at the manor with Haru?¡± I ask. I carefully shake the wine glass, and nibble on a dried cube of meat¡­ I believe one of the waitresses said this was steak? I heard there are bizarrely-sized fauna called ostriches frolicking in the Toscana wilderness, but I¡¯ve never seen one myself¡ªor tasted one before that matter. It¡¯s difficult to get an idea of the actual taste of it considering the pieces are overly marinated and what seems like a hefty amount of lemon juice. As I steer the group towards Simon, I fail to notice that Simon is surrounded by women dreamily fawning over him. Clinging in one of his arms is Beatrice in a glittering white, v-shaped short-skirted dress. I try to look away, but I can¡¯t help but think she¡¯s pressing too hard on him. ¡°Well, uh,¡± Brutus ruffles his hair and squints past me, ¡°a little¡ªbut it was more like an appetizer¡­ I¡¯ll be honest, I was kind of starving on the way here. Haru¡¯s got a big heart for cooking, but the stuff here is on a whole different level,¡± Brutus pauses to look at my wine glass, ¡°hey, why are you squeezing that so hard for? You¡¯re going to shatter it!¡± ¡°Huh?¡± I utter. The loud ruckus and Brutus¡¯s question aside, a subtle creak snaps me out of my flow of consciousness. I break off my gaze on Simon to examine the wine glass. There¡¯s a noticeable crack on the cup base now, but at least it¡¯s not leaking. A concerned hum by Brutus, then he speaks, ¡±maybe Olga is right?¡± Brutus muses a little lightheartedly, ¡°maybe you should lighten up a little,¡± Brutus pats me on the back before pointing at the half-eaten skewer, ¡°but¡­ are you going to finish the rest of that? Would be a waste if you only let it go cold,¡± too fixated on Simon, I hand it over to Brutus without much thought. Just as Brutus is about to take it, however, Olga swipes it instead. ¡°Get your own,¡± Olga tells Brutus before she tears off a piece of ostrich meat. Brutus only scoffs and stomps off to find the nearest waitress unfortunate enough to be confronted by his wrath. Simon must¡¯ve taken notice of the commotion since he looks up from the flurry of girls at us. He looks remarkably tired¡ªheavier eye bags than usual. A bit pale. His eyes stuck in a squint, lips hanging open. Moments later, it ¡¯s like Simon¡¯s liveness returns to him. Color returns to his features, his eyebrows raised, his jaw drops¡ªthen he shuts his mouth shut. His eyes shift between the three of us, and his mouth becomes o-shaped. Beatrice and the others exchange glances¡ªand everyone except her gives us space. ¡°Never took you for being popular with women,¡± I say warmly, rubbing the glass, ¡°or friendly, for that matter¡­¡± my voice trembles a little, and I clear my throat in an attempt to hide it. I shouldn¡¯t be upset, I don¡¯t want to be upset. I should be happy that Simon enjoys himself around other people¡ªaround other women. Simon blurs before me, and I realize too late he rushed forward. I don¡¯t get the chance to bring my arms out before he wraps his around me¡ªand a brief loss of air as Simon squeezes me firmly. Simon stammers to say something, but he only manages to collapse to his knees and brings me down with him. Increasingly lightheaded, I try to gasp for air. Simon¡¯s grip lessens at first¡ªthen his arms slide up until his arms wrap my shoulders¡ªone hand cradles me by my head. ¡°Li,¡± Simon utters, he buries his head into my scarred cheek, ¡°three times already I¡¯ve taken my eyes off you,¡± Simon pauses to clear his throat, ¡°and three times too soon I fear it will be the last time¡­¡± Simon rubs his head against mine, his embrace slightly firmer, ¡°the last time I¡¯ll ever see you, Li you can¡¯t just¡­ you can¡¯t just toy with an old man¡¯s heart like that, I¡¯m so glad¡ªso relieved you¡¯re fine,¡± an abrupt pause followed by Simon pulling me away, a concerned frown, ¡°¡­you are alright, right?¡± Simon asks, his voice quivering. After breathing normally, I weakly give my nod. ¡°I¡¯m more at peace now than I¡¯ve ever been, Simon,¡± I say softly. The gray tearfully scoffs, stroking my bangs, ¡°and you should too¡ªwe all should be now.¡± ¡°Kamon¡­¡± Simon shakes his head, ¡°I should¡¯ve stopped you sooner¡ª¡° ¡°Simon,¡± I object. But Simon simply rags on. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡°I should¡¯ve done things differently, what was I doing?¡± Simon grits his teeth, ¡°what the hell was Brutus doing? God, the next time I see the sorry bastard, I¡¯m going to do more than just kick his ass!¡± ¡°Simon,¡± I say, more sternly this time. Simon¡¯s eyes flicker, and he gazes into mine with those bleak, mature eyes of his. I reach out and pinch him by the ear, I smile despite the intense aching pain, ¡°we don¡¯t have to worry about Kamon or our situation anymore. Brutus was powerless to do anything, it¡¯s behind us now¡­ I¡¯m free,¡± I caress his ear, ¡°you¡¯re free. ¡± Simon stares blankly for a few moments, pursing his lips. Another clear of his throat, before he gestures for us to get up. He dusts the both of us off¡ªbriefly looking over my dress before dusting off my cloak¡ªa slight readjustment, and then he takes a step back. Simon starts to speak¡ªbut he stops, glancing past me before reeling around to the women behind him. ¡°Sorry, ladies,¡± Simon begins, ¡°didn¡¯t mean to cause a little scene like this, this codger needs some alone time with his, uh¡­¡± Simon peeks at me, a smirk, ¡°well, something of a date with his endearing prot¨¦g¨¦ and her friend.¡± A date? My eyes dart as my face reddens from embarrassment. The ladies that previously accompanied Simon shuffle off with murmurs, excluding a bemused Beatrice. At the same time, I thought I hear a sincere hum from Olga, but maybe I am imagining things. With most of the women gone, Simon turns to us with another sly smile. He comes back over to us but we find ourselves practically swarmed by a slew of guests pouring into the dining area. I almost lose my way among the sea of people, but Simon is quick to act and wraps my arm around his to ensure we don¡¯t get lost. And thanks to his height, Simon can guide Olga out onto the orange-lit balcony, where there are far fewer people present. ¡°It got busy so suddenly,¡± Olga muses, the three of us lean on the cool, stone railing, ¡°if I have to guess, Zhui is eager to celebrate Li¡¯s¡ªour victories against the Federation so soon?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Simon sighs. ¡°Something like that, though it¡¯s already been going on for a few hours before you three got here,¡± Simon remarks. I glance at Beatrice striding away from the crowd for us, ¡°I imagine most must be puckered out by now¡ªif not totally incubated by now¡­ unless you guys were interested in joining?¡± ¡°No, I think you made the right call in dragging us out here,¡± Olga says, and I agree with a nod. Olga tears another piece from the skewer absentmindedly. Beatrice sighs, taking a shot from her wine glass. The unkempt maiden staggers after the drink and clears her throat. Beatrice begins to speak, ¡°it¡¯s a good thing, too. You two might not be aware, but he¡¯s all the more eager to show off his prized possessions¡ªsome cagey prisoners from Malabo.¡± With a long distressing sigh, my heart sinks a little. Malabo. It didn¡¯t cross my mind to visit there. Malabo¡¯s occupation was apparently more intense than Baltit, and the evacuation would¡¯ve been more chaotic. But I was in such a hurry to return to the capital that I didn¡¯t have a moment to spare. More people suffered as a result of my actions. Or inactions, I suppose. Maybe I¡¯m too hopeful in the Don having too much of a change of heart in his ways. ¡°Oh, right,¡± another grievous sigh from Simon. ¡°I wasn¡¯t even thinking of that, honestly. Well¡­ it¡¯s a drunk audience regardless, so it¡¯ll be a wild spectacle for them¡­ drunk animals watching animals devour their helpless prey¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s a disgusting blood sport,¡± I retort, clutching my poncho, ¡°I could¡¯ve saved them at Malabo¡ªI¡¯m no better than Zhui or even the Metropolitans in abandoning them,¡± Simon exhales through his nose and leans in to rub my shoulder. ¡°I did hear of some shuttle hijack at Baltit,¡± Simon begins, ¡°coincidentally happening during your visit. I didn¡¯t think much of it, of course¡ªbut it was your doing, wasn¡¯t it?¡± I look at Simon in his curious ripe eyes. Then I give a cautious nod. ¡°Are¡­ are you upset with me?¡± I ask timidly, trying to avert my gaze and squeezing my sides. Simon slides his hand up to rub my neck. ¡°Upset that I couldn¡¯t save those in Malabo from a cruel fate? ¡± ¡°Of course not, Li,¡± Simon answers warmly, ¡°a little surprised for sure, but upset?¡± Simon lightly scoffs, he presses me to his chest and pats my head, ¡°perish the thought, Li. I¡¯m more relieved you didn¡¯t have them¡­ well, butchered to save them from a crueler fate,¡± Simon says. His chest rises and falls slowly with a winding sigh. ¡°You did the right thing, I think,¡± a pause, ¡°a more humane right thing. ¡± ¡°Thank you, Simon, for the assurance,¡± I say warmly. ¡°That¡¯s why I¡¯m here for you, Li,¡± Simon says. He pulls himself away, holding me by the shoulders still. He draws a long breath, then unwinds a long sigh as he sheepishly eyes me from top to bottom. My cheeks blush a rosy red at his unsettling long gaze. ¡°Do¡­ do you like the dress?¡± I ask warmly, I glance at an unimpressed Olga, ¡°Olga picked it out for me¡ªit was her and Brutus¡¯s idea.¡± ? ¡°It was my idea alone,¡± Olga corrects rather sharply. She tears at two helpless pieces of meat and vegetables on her skewer. Even Beatrice glances at her with morbid curiosity. Even Simon peeks at her briefly and cracks a grin. ¡°Olga, I have to hand it to you¡ªyou have a keen eye for taste,¡± Simon says wryly, his grin only getting bigger, ¡°it¡¯s incredible, Li, it looks unbelievably gorgeous on you. I mean, you¡¯re enthralling as is¡ªbut it merely exemplifies your beauty,¡± Simon says, stroking my disfigured scar line. I find my world whirling before I know it. From his words? Or perhaps from the alcohol I consumed? Whichever the case, my lips tremble, and I search for the appropriate words to respond with. Simon chuckles and holds me steady in his firm grip. Simon continues by speaking to Olga, ¡°I guess that did a number on her. You know, I¡¯ll be honest, I¡¯m glad you guys dropped by when I was being attacked by those women,¡± Beatrice only retorts with a contempt laugh, ¡°I was brooding at a table by myself wondering when¡ªor if¡ªyou would come to bother little ol¡¯ me,¡± Simon lightly chuckles. ¡°But I¡¯m relieved you guys saved me in the nick of time¡­ in any case, say, would you guys like to come with me to a bar I frequent? It¡¯s something of a little getaway for me when things get too much.¡± Regaining my composure¡ªSimon gently eases his grip¡ªI glance at Olga before answering, ¡°so soon? Wouldn¡¯t that upset my father?¡± Simon only waves his hand. ¡°He has Kamon with him to keep him company. I¡¯m practically, uh,¡± Simon scoffs, ¡°the third wheel when she¡¯s around.¡± ¡°Third wheel?¡± I ask. There¡¯s that term again. Simon exchanges a glance with Olga and head-pats me again with clearly no intent on answering. ¡°Well¡­ I suppose it doesn¡¯t hurt,¡± I turn to face Olga, ¡°what about you?¡± ¡°I¡¯d be more than happy to tag along with Master Simon and you, Madame,¡± Olga says, shaking her glass in her hands. I half-expected her to act strange again, but maybe I am simply imagining things, or drunk. ¡°If you excuse me, I should go drag Brutus out of any trouble, I¡¯ll meet you outside,¡± Olga states, ¡°oh¡ªyou can hold onto this if you¡¯re hungry, Madame,¡± she hands over what remains of the skewer then disappears into the crowd of people. There is thunderous applause and what is unmistakably the booming voice of Zhui giving a speech about the Federation¡¯s plight. ¡°Will you be joining us, Beatrice?¡± I ask as Simon and I begin to depart. Beatrice hangs her head to the side, ruffling her unkempt and wild hair around. ¡°You know, I would love to,¡± the unabashed beauty answers, ¡°but since that bastard father of yours is inclined to be lax on security ¡­ that means I have to stay here,¡± Beatrice resigns with a sigh and slumps on the stone rail, ¡°you must have it easy with such reliable subordinates,¡± Beatrice muses, ¡°I am simply brimming with envy.¡± Afterward, Beatrice waves me off as I scurry to catch up with Simon. When I join Simon back in the front yard, a troubling look is cast over his face. When the old badger takes notice of me, Simon relaxes a little. ¡°Li, listen,¡± Simon says, gently holding me by the shoulders, ¡°I did forget to mention something about the bar, it¡¯s uh¡­ it¡¯s located at the L?yly avenue,¡± just the name alone is enough to give me a chill¡ªa repressed memory of the mechanical cock of a gun and my brush with getting executed. Simon continues, ¡°you don¡¯t, uh¡­¡± a clear his throat, averting his sheepish gaze, ¡°you don¡¯t have to¡ªwe can go somewhere else, I¡¯m sorry. I was being inconsiderate and didn¡¯t think to bring it up earlier.¡± I place one of my hands over his and peek a grin once he locks eyes with me. ¡°It¡¯s okay, Simon,¡± I say, his rough, leathery hands eclipse mine in size, ¡°even so, I want to go there and make new wonderful memories over terrible ones¡ªI want everyone to relax, to stop dwelling on the past and enjoy themselves,¡± I say warmly. Simon¡¯s ever-tired eyes close, and he nods with a grin. ¡°Well¡­ I gave my warning,¡± Simon remarks, ¡°I can¡¯t object to your request, I guess.¡± Simon then excuses himself to head off and talk to the two knuckleheads Mark and Rami while I lean against one of the cars and savor the rest of the skewer meal. It¡¯s quite delicious. When I glance over at the trio, I notice Mark go pale as a ghost¡ªmost likely Simon informing him that we are heading for L?yly. But the man quickly regains his composure and seems to comply with going to L?yly. Time passes by and Olga and Brutus join us. To my surprise, Brutus carries a dozing-off Olga in his arms. ¡°My, did Olga drink too much?¡± I ask warmly. ¡°Yeah, you could say that, couldn¡¯t pry me away from the buffet until she collapsed from tiredness.¡± The oaf scoffs. With the help of Rami, the two of them get the door open so Brutus can put Olga in a seat. Simon then informs Brutus of our destination¡ªapologizing to Brutus beforehand¡ªand Brutus takes the moment to take the information in. ¡°L?yly¡­ again, huh?¡± Brutus muses, he glares at me but shrugs, ¡°if the Madame is alright with it, then I have no qualms. She goes on about moving forward, so best not to dwell on it too much, I suppose, yeah? ¡± ¡°That¡¯s the spirit,¡± I say warmly, I turn to address the others, ¡°let¡¯s get going, shall we?¡± Chapter 91: Toscana Requiem | In Toast of Those L?yly avenue. It¡¯s a busy street compared to the last time we came. Before coming up on the street, the only source of light is the occasional street lamp, the car¡¯s lights, and the dim blanketing lights on the opposite Side surface. But L?yly sports as much green scenery as it does a plethora of signposts and billboards advertising local businesses. The flurrying lights are overpowering; like stepping directly back into daylight. Under the vibrant environment is a bustling stream of window shoppers, intoxicated patrons stumbling through, and outdoor salesmen aggressively soliciting potential customers. A trickle of Mafia cronies stumbles along the way. Simon leads us along hugging the buildings, further into the thick of the avenue. We pass the sauna building situated across the street¡ªI inhale deeply as we do so. And for a split second, I lose sight of where I¡¯m walking¡ªand I crash into an individual staggering about. I regain my footing and take hold of the person I bumped into. ¡°My apologies,¡± I say warmly, ¡°I wasn¡¯t paying attention¡ª¡° ¡°Get your goddamn hands off me, you bitch!¡± The man bellows, shoving me off. The others stop in their tracks and gaze back at this confrontation. ¡°You¡­ you got some nerves to think you can simply just mess with wherever you want?! Who the hell do you think you are ¡ª¡° he blinks owlishly at me without finishing, his eyes and mouth widen with horror. He takes a step back, his eyes darting around. But before either of us can react, Olga steps forward and decks him with her prosthetic arm. The man crashes to the floor, a hand clasped over his bloodied face; a howling cry. In the span of a second, this rowdy alley falls silent. Brutus is the first to react, and he rushes to grab the man by the collar. ¡°You looking for a death wish, punk?!¡± Brutus shouts, ripping the man¡¯s hand from his face, ¡°you dare lay your hands on the Madame!?¡± ¡°I¡ªI,¡± the man cries, coughing and gagging on the fluids, ¡°I¡­ I didn¡¯t¡­¡± Brutus forces him to his feet, hands wrapped around his neck. ¡°Brutus, put him down,¡± I say, my heart racing. Brutus, undeterred, and with his chest rising rapidly, tightens his choke-hold grip. ¡°Brutus, put the man down,¡± I raise my voice more sternly, rubbing my agitated scar. Brutus relents, dropping the man to his feet: who promptly collapses to his face. I glare at Olga, who takes the cue and takes a few steps back. No one comes forward to help the man, who whimpers and with one hand tries to regain his balance. With a sigh, I kneel in front of the man who tries to scurry away¡ªbut he backs up against the wall. Bouts of blood steep through his cupped hand onto his clothes. Mafia clothes. But it¡¯s not just any Mafia clothes¡ªit¡¯s clothes affiliated with Kamon¡¯s agency. I smile as earnestly as I can, bearing immense pain for his sake. I extend a hand out¡ªbut the man doesn¡¯t take it. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± I ask warmly, to no reply, ¡°again¡­ and sincerely this time, I apologize for my subordinates, they¡¯re a little¡­¡± I tilt my head, smiling some more with sharper pain this time, ¡°overprotective of me sometimes. It¡¯d cause me immense trouble if they were simply barbaric all the time. ¡°And I truly am sorry that I bumped into you¡ªit was careless of me to let my mind wander in this crowd for even a second,¡± I gaze at the bloodied man curiously, ¡°your nose, is it broken? I can help¡ª¡° the man shakes his head and a fresh stream of tears race down his bloodied cheeks. I reach inside my poncho for something to clean his face with, but the man coughs up blood and begins to speak. ¡°Keanu,¡± the man mutters, trying to keep his throat cleared of fluids, ¡°my name is Keanu. I¡­¡± Keanu grunts, wobbling a bit on his knees. His gaze shifts between Simon and me, before he shuts them tight. ¡°Please be careful,¡± I say hurriedly, producing a white cloth from a pouch. I hand it to him, but Keanu only pushes it aside. Keanu sniffs and grunts from the agonizing pain. ¡°This pain is nothing to what I¡¯ve done,¡± Keanu gasps, his voice slurred and nasally, ¡°this drunken stupor is simply karma, isn¡¯t it?¡± Brutus and Rami breathe in and out heavily. Did they realize he is a Kamon affiliate by now? Was Keanu here responsible for their holdup in L?yly back then? ¡°By whatever do you mean?¡± I ask warmly. Keanu rubs his neck and only shakes his head, ¡°whatever it is, don¡¯t let it weigh you down¡ª¡± ¡°No!¡± Keanu retorts, making me flinch back, ¡°no, I can¡¯t¡­ it¡¯s not a sin I can simply walk away from!¡± Keanu says¡ªhe pleads. Keanu tries getting to his feet but fails, slumping back on his knees. Keanu buries his head in his hands and stifles his weeping. ¡°Keanu¡ª¡° before I get the chance to continue, Keanu abruptly prostrates himself before me, his head reacing down and fully touching the tarmac. ¡°I¡¯ve¡­¡± Keanu stammers, his lips sputtering out all the blood, ¡°I¡¯m responsible for pulling Jung Lee out of retirement¡­ I never in a million years thought¡­¡± Keanu gasps to clear his mouth of blood, ¡°I¡¯ve killed a legend¡­ a living legend¡­ why?¡± Keanu lifts his head, ¡°I¡¯ve gone and brought a family man back to the Mafia¡ªonly for him to be killed!¡± Keanu gasps again, wiping his broken, bloodied nose with his sleeve, ¡°and now I¡¯ve come and confronted you¡ªis this my fate to die like a dog?! To pay for what I¡¯ve done?! ¡°I¡¯ve done nothing but drink my sorrow the last few days¡ªI couldn¡¯t bring myself to confront the Lee family¡­ I couldn¡¯t bring myself to look Cap¡¯n Jean or Jargon in the eyes¡­ how could I?! I¡¯ve taken their livelihood from them! I¡¯ve taken away a father¡­¡± Keanu¡¯s fingers curl up¡ªand then he slams a fist against the tarmac, ¡°I¡¯ve ruined a whole family! How can I simply not let it weigh me down?! I deserve to die! ¡± A blur zips past me¡ªa gust of wind¡ªand I realize it¡¯s Simon grabbing Keanu by the mantle and slamming him against the wall. Keanu lets out a pained wail, only for Simon to slam him against the wall again. ¡°I¡¯d be more than happy to send you straight to hell,¡± Simon says coldly, tightening his grip on Keanu¡¯s mantle. Keanu sputters blood in an attempt to say something, but it¡¯s difficult to make it so. I only witness in time Simon flipping his coat flap to brandish his pistol. Instinctively, I jump forward my feet and reach in time to wrap my hands around the pistol, just as it is slammed under Keanu¡¯s jaw. Simon strongly resists at first, our glares interlocking. His finger is lightly on the trigger. His chest rises up and down heavily and slowly. A single bead of sweat rolls down his face. ¡°Simon,¡± I begin warmly, ¡°Keanu¡­ the one who holds the responsibility for Jung¡¯s demise is me alone. If there¡¯s someone who should answer the tolling bell, it should be me, Simon,¡± I say, looking deeply into his eyes, ¡°executing him won¡¯t bring back Jung, and neither will it bring you any further to closure.¡± There is only a steel resolve at first¡ªbut the determination in his eyes falters. I tug on his sleeve, gesturing for him to let Keanu down. Simon¡¯s brow softens first¡ªthen his steely arm. With grave reluctance, Simon lets Keanu fall to his knees. Simon shifts around, and with one last look at Keanu storms off into the crowd. I scan the stunned gathering¡ªby now there are a few Mafia associates among them¡ªbefore observing Kean again. He struggles to get up against the wall, to which I offer him my hand¡ªand cloth. Keanu refuses at first but finally accepts my help and I pull my weight to get him up. Keanu dabs his face with the cloth and props his head against the wall. ¡°Why?¡± Keanu utters, ¡°why did you stop him despite all the pain I¡¯ve caused? To deny me an end to my pain and suffering?¡± I only give a quiet scoff. Why, indeed? I can understand Simon¡¯s anger. I¡¯ve been so absorbed in what was unfolding in front of me that I never realized my scar has been boiling this entire time¡ªand even just trying to soothe it is mostly fruitless. Killing should not be our answer to everything. It might be in our nature to resort to violence¡ªbut it¡¯s a solution we can strive to avoid. I smile bleakly. ¡°If I didn¡¯t stop Simon from splattering your brain across the wall, it would be an unpleasant evening for not only us but the businesses as well,¡± my gaze shifts to the floor, ¡°who knows what cycle of vengeance that would be invoked with your death? I¡¯ve done what I can to establish peace¡­ would I want that freedom I¡¯ve earned to simply go to waste? ¡°Mr. Keanu, I want you to live. Yes, you have done an unspeakable act of dragging Jung from a well-deserved life of retirement, but at the same time, without Jung to back my plans, none of us would stand here today, we live because of his sacrifice,¡± I look the dumbfounded Keanu in his eyes, ¡°even if you have to live a long, arduous life of regret¡ªlive it regardless. A few bad days do not entail having a terrible life. ¡°Make the most of it¡ªdon¡¯t let his and our comrades¡¯ deaths be in vain,¡± I turn halfway, narrowing my eyes at Keanu, ¡°this is not an act of mercy, Keanu; this is a punishment in its own way. Let us hope we never meet again¡ªI may not feel as inclined to spare you a fate befitting of a drunkard coward,¡± I say coldly. I then turn my back to Keanu, letting his associates pass by to carry the man away, and gesture for my group to follow after Simon, with Mark and Rami leading the way. The disruptive spell cast over L?yly seemingly dissipates in a matter of seconds. ¡°Madame¡­¡± Olga sighs heavily. ¡°Was that the right thing to do? Simply let him walk away as a free man?¡± ¡°We will not speak of this matter anymore,¡± I reply coolly, ¡°you and Brutus acting so barbaric has likely caused me enough trouble already. I can only hope that Kamon will see it in her heart to let this incident slide¡­ and even so, what part of letting things be and enjoying ourselves do the two of you not comprehend?¡± ¡°Sincere apologies, Madame,¡± Olga murmurs, her gaze averted. ¡°I only wanted to¡ª¡° Brutus starts, but I cut him off. ¡°Enough with the lip service,¡± I remark, ¡°and show me you mean it. Come; knowing Simon, he¡¯s sulking in there by himself.¡± We stand in front of a two-story establishment. Unlike others on the street, it¡¯s traditional in contrast¡ªdark, faded wooden paneling with a single sliding door. Covering the exterior itself is a beaded curtain that¡¯s a lighter shade of caramel. ¡°Is this where Simon wandered off to?¡± I ask Mark. He turns to us and nods, but before Mark can say anything, Brutus speaks in his stead. ¡°Yokohama Mori,¡± Brutus murmurs, as he slides the wooden door open. ¡°You¡¯ve familiar with this place?¡± Olga asks. Brutus breathes heavily through his nose, and the five of us step inside to a moderately-sized interior that¡¯s atmospherically cardinal, but also humble with its design and furnishing. Even so, it¡¯s oddly nostalgic. It fondly reminds me of meeting with Miss Victoria in her commander¡¯s captain¡¯s quarters. ¡°Yeah,¡± Brutus answers, a brief pause. The big oaf glances at me as if hesitating to continue. ¡°Julius and I used to visit here from time to time,¡± I follow his glance at Simon, who indeed sits alone at the counter. Though a stoic spectacled man¡ªlikely the bartender judging from his KASHIWAGI name tag¡ªkeeps the codger company. Kashiwagi watches us closely as we enter the lofty bar. Across the room are about a dozen lieutenants being overwhelmingly unruly over drinks¡ªsome of them I recognize from my fleet. They are all standing¡ªarms over each other as they loudly sing a drunken chorus of Toscana¡¯s anthem. ¡°Some fresh faces, and Mister Brutus!¡± Kashiwagi says cordially, ¡°it¡¯s been a while, hasn¡¯t it?¡± He asks as we take seats at the counter, ¡°I was just now catching up with Mister Oliver on how rare it is to him stop by and without Mister Lee as well, though I find it regrettable that Sir Lee passed away only recently¡ªrather unfortunate, mm,¡± Kashiwagi nods to himself, ¡°it brought me great joy knowing he loved the Yokohama Mori¡¯s fine selection of beverages, it pains me deeply could not experience more of what I had to offer,¡± through his rimmed glasses, Kashiwagi¡¯s gaze shifts between his patrons, ¡°no good Sir Julius today? That chap always did love barging in all gung-ho.¡± The air is stiff as none of us can bring ourselves to answer. Brutus cups his chin and glances partway at the merry cronies losing themselves in laughter. Kashiwagi leans on his side of the counter, following Brutus¡¯s gaze before we meet eyes. ¡°Unfortunately,¡± I begin, Brutus shuts his eyes, resting his hands on his forehead, ¡°Julius¡­ will not be coming by anymore,¡± Kashiwagi¡¯s eyes flicker in realization. The bartender suddenly looks tired; a little older than what I perceive. Without another word, Kashiwagi takes an empty glass and absentmindedly rubs it with a dry cloth. ¡°I see,¡± Kashiwagi says. He takes a deep breath, turning to glance at the other customers. ¡°I was happy to receive such guests in great spirits¡ªand contemplated celebrating your victories against the Feds once Sir Brutus and Sir Julius arrived¡­¡± Kashiwagi huffs through his nose, setting down the cup he was cleaning, ¡°but I suppose beneath a hearty celebration lies an even greater tragedy of the Yokohama Mori losing two of its most valuable patrons in such a concise notice,¡± Kashiwagi finishes, his head hangs low. "My time with Julius was far too brief," I remark "I''ve only gotten to know Julius for less than a day, yet he was endearing to me not as a subordinate, but as a friend. Even so, I made a promise with him, a promise that when this is all over he would take me to enjoy the finest champagne that Toscana has to offer," a glance at the lively patrons, then I smile warmly. "I do wonder if Julius intended to share this moment with me. Would you happen to have some of this exquisite drink that Julius would''ve wanted to relish this moment with?¡± Kashiwagi ponders the question, then a soft scoff; a wry smile. "That sly rogue," Kashiwagi says "even after his passing, he still makes grandeur requests." Kashiwagi pushes away from the table and turns to face his row of drinks lining the wall. A few moments of deliberations pass, before Kashiwagi steps forward, kneels, and produces a tall, imposing bottle with murky green contents. Simon shifts in his seat, sitting up straight. However, Brutus comments first. "I''ll be damned, Kashiwagi! A forty-year-old Hikari Mars!" His burly hands timidly hover over the bottle. I''ve never seen Brutus this flabbergasted before. "How the hell did you¡ªwhen did you¡ª" "It was given as a gift by former governor Otto Bohlmann to the Yokohama Mori''s original proprietor many years ago," Kashiwagi interrupts. A welcoming grin as he adjusts his spectacles. "One of thirty bottles brewed by Toscana''s very own Sunny Smiles back in the day," his smirk fades, "and one of four bottles known to still exist." The other side of the bar calms down, and curious eyes gather around us. Simon reaches for the Hikari Mars and casually turns it over in his hands. His stern hazel eyes examine it from top to bottom before setting it down. Brutus looks as though Simon has violated the most sacred instrument known to man. "If Jun were here," Simon remarks quietly, "he''d rebuke that the Hikari Mars is overrated as hell," a slight, sad smirk. "Had I known you possessed this, I would''ve dragged Jun here for one last drink," his fingers curl on into a fist, "one last toast to his well-being, and for his safe return." His eyes squint. A long, unwinding sigh. "There¡¯s no such thing as a toast too late," Kashiwagi says. The bartender takes the latte-brown cork off the Hikari Mars and pours one out. He sets the acidic green glass down on the center of the table. "Even without Sir Julius and Sir Lee, I''d like for everyone to experience the elixir that is the Hikari Mars." A baffled Olga asks, "Are you sure? This bottle¡­ this brand and its age, it''s priceless, isn''t it?" She glances at me, "shouldn¡¯t we pay for this, at least?¡± Kashiwagi only shakes his head. His smile returns; an adjustment of his spectacles. ¡°Priceless, yes, that¡¯s one way of putting it, and one that the previous owner clung to stubbornly,¡± Kashiwagi states ¡°but contrary to my predecessor, I am little interest in holding onto a bottle that¡¯ll one day lose the very flavor that makes it so exquisite,¡± Kashiwagi leans on the table, sliding the glass to Simon. ¡°So, from the bottom of my heart, I believe it would serve more purpose being drunk rather than sit and collect dust, what say you, Mister Oliver?¡± Simon doesn''t respond. He breathes heavily through his nostrils¡ªa glance at me¡ªbefore the codger picks the glass by the rim and gets to his feet. Simon glances around us and raises the glass¡ªwhich others emulate. His eyes dart around, and with one deep inhale sets the glass down. Simon¡¯s eyes drift to me¡ªand to my surprise, he extends the glass to me. ¡°Li,¡± Simon says, ¡°I think it would be more fitting for you to give the toast instead¡ªand a few words or two. What right do I have to give any honors to your hard-fought victories? What have I done this entire time, other than sitting here and twiddling my thumbs not knowing if it will be a Federation armada pulling into the harbor or not?¡± The lieutenants around us only offer murmurs and averted gazes, ¡°well, I don¡¯t mean to put a damper on Kashiwagi¡¯s generosity, I simply think it would have more weight if you were the one to give a toast on this special accession.¡± ¡°A surprising provision from Simon¡­ what says you, Madame Li?¡± Kashiwagi asks, gleaming a grin. Do I deserve the honor of giving the toast? To whom should I dedicate it? The Mafia? The Don? To our success¡ªto me? What would Julius and Jung want out of this? Swallowing the bout of reluctance, I receive the glass from Simon and hold it by the base. ¡°Very well,¡± I answer, scanning the wall of eyes around me, ¡°I suppose¡­ I will oblige your desire to get some use out of the Hikari Mars. And if you truly wish, you could pour all my men some of it, as well.¡± Kashiwagi¡¯s grin widens as he takes out a plethora of glasses. ¡°I couldn¡¯t be happier with accepting such a proposition,¡± he says happily. He proceeds with pouring out the massive Hikari Mars bottle into each one and scoots them one by one across the table to Brutus, Olga, and all the others. This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. Soon enough, a glass of the acclaimed Hikari Mars finds its way into each patron¡¯s hands. I stare into mine¡ªa murky reflection of a smirking raven with a disfigured scar. I look up at Simon and the others, and with a deep breath raise my glass. ¡°Now, then, without further ado,¡± I clear my throat¡ªthe last bastion of reluctance dissipates. I raise the glass high. I close my eyes¡ªthe images of Julius, of Jung and all the other unfortunate souls lost to the distant binary star. One that when seen afar is deceptively beautiful but upon entering are swallowed whole, leaving behind only candlelights of sorrow and brokenhearted loved ones. ¡°Oh, one last thing, Mister Kashiwagi,¡± I state, ¡°if you could pour me three glasses and leave them there on the table¡­ I think I would appreciate that very much.¡± Kashiwagi looks at me with surprise at first¡ªbut he gives a silent nod and complies with my request. It¡¯s the most I can do for them, I believe. I raise my glass high, eyes trained on the glass as light pierces through its clear contents. ¡°Twice we have won. Twice we have gone to bloody brawls with the Federation and her auxiliaries. Twice we have killed, suffered, and watched before our very eyes our loved ones and comrades perish in the brink of an eye¡ªcomradeship that was forged through fire and sword for many years. Twice I have asked every one of you to follow me into the deeper parts of Hell itself¡ªand expect of you to return with me in one piece. ¡°The fact that many stand with me here today is testament to that. Twice we have won, and twice we have emerged victorious. And yet, there remains many unaccounted for¡ªhundreds of thousands that will never see the light over the horizon. We have achieved peace at an unspeakable cost of manpower and material, and yet it is fragile at best. But rather than look outward, expecting a terrible doom one day, or reflect grievously on the past, I ask all of you to look forward to the now. To live for the ones who gave their lives to allow for us to experience this very moment. I believe that is the most we can do for those who suffered a terrible fate.¡± When I finish, I raise the glass higher. The crowd gets tighter as they all raise their glasses to mine. ¡°To the trials we have overcome¡­ not only at Valspon and Velksland but at Abassi as well. To both you who stand by my side, and those only with us in spirit, to the cosmic heroes that I pale to¡­¡± my bottom lip trembles for a brief moment, the nervousness in my throat bottles up again, ¡°to Jung Lee, to Emmanuel, and to all those like Julius who perished in the face of overwhelming, horrible odds¡­ ¡°Prosit!¡± ¡°Prosit!¡± The crowd cries amid the clattering of glasses bunched together. Throwing my head back, I wash the Hikari Mars down in one go. A savory mix of caramel honey, nuts, and what seems like juicy citrus overwhelms my taste buds. Though I would say there is a strong focus on the caramel and nuttiness compared to the limey flavor; the aftertaste, in contrast to the slimy yet tasteless vodka that Olga and I tried, and the drink that Brutus and I shared on the Castelforte holds nothing to the Hikari Mars. It¡¯s almost entirely in a league of its own. I almost fumble back. This is beyond what Kashiwagi describes as an elixir, it is remarkably exquisite. Although it is purportedly a drink that Brutus describes as a forty-year-old vintage, it¡¯s as this fine bottle of Hikari Mars stopped its aging process at just the perfect time. And what a time it is. I stroke my disfigured cheek while twirling the empty glass in my hands, the few ice cubes still inside slosh around lightly. My, the crowd has gotten quite rowdy roaring their prosits and cries of joy. It¡¯s rather difficult to think to myself. And as I watch the others lose themselves in drink and happiness. A strange feeling nags at my stomach. For some reason, it doesn¡¯t feel right. I look down at the empty glass again and only then does the sinking feeling of unworthiness sink in. If only Julius and Jung were here. If only all of us could enjoy this moment together¡­ A warm pressure on my shoulder. It¡¯s Simon, smiling as he takes the empty glass and hands me one of the three reserved ones. The other patrons are already shuffling to the other side of the bar¡ªothers are wobbling upstairs. ¡°You could join them if you want,¡± Simon says, ¡°they¡¯re going to play a few hands of Mahjong. I wouldn¡¯t mind if you went and joined them¡­ I need some more time to think by myself.¡± ¡°Mahjong?¡± I muse, stroking my scars, ¡°it¡¯s been so long such I¡¯ve touched the game. As tempting as it sounds right now, I can only play it with them later,¡± I smile at Simon as I take my seat next to him, ¡°for the time being I want to spend some time with you alone, Simon.¡± The man turns away. A surprised scoff. Though I can¡¯t see his face, I can tell from his reddening ear that he¡¯s flustered by the words. Kashiwagi, likewise, chuckles and shifts away from our part of the bar to tend to his other guests. ¡°Well, suit yourself,¡± Simon glances at the two remaining glasses off to the side, ¡°say, what do you plan to do with those?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you mean,¡± I respond, ¡°they¡¯re there to be consumed.¡± Simon remarks, ¡°I was under the impression that you were symbolically saving them for Jung, Emmanuel, and that other fellow you were acquainted with.¡± I take a slow sip from my drink, staring at them before giving my answer, ¡°of course, I am going to drink them myself.¡± Simon looks back at me with concern, ¡°is there a problem with that?¡± ¡°Well, Li, there are a few. First, I don¡¯t need you passing out on me tonight. And second, I¡¯m not quitting smoking just so you can develop a horrible habit by becoming an alcoholic before my very eyes.¡± ¡°My, are you accusing me of being a lightweight?¡± I say with a crooked smirk. Simon sighs, stroking his brow. ¡°Li, I can tell one when I see one. You¡¯re completely red in the face already. If I let you have even more drinks, you¡¯ll be indistinguishable from the rest of the room¡¯s paneling.¡± I take a more elaborate drink from the glass and set the near-empty glass down on the table. After having drinks as plain as the vodka and as horrible as the drink Brutus offered, I ¡¯m not sure I would want to drink anymore. Savoring this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to consume a well-conserved Hikari Mars vintage is all I need. If I¡¯ve experienced one of the best there is, I would only be letting myself down, wouldn¡¯t I? A giggle escapes my lips. ¡°My, if you¡¯re that worried about me drowning my life in alcohol then it¡¯s all the more reason for you to keep pampering me,¡± I express with a radiating smile. I don¡¯t even feel the usual aching anymore¡ªonly slight numbness. ¡°Besides, it never hurts to let loose like this after everything is said and done, does it?¡± Simon sighs. He cups his hands together and glances at the two murky glasses. Simon takes one for himself, slowly draining the glass of its contents. ¡°Everything said and done,¡± Simon repeats those words quietly. It¡¯s not long before he eyes the bottoms of the glass, setting it down quietly. ¡°Li¡ªI¡¯ll be blunt with you¡­ is everything said and done?¡± Simon looks behind him at the crowd enjoying themselves. ¡°Did Sergy not inform you of the Metropolitans withdrawal?¡± I ask, my finger circling the glass¡¯s rim. ¡°That he did,¡± Simon answers ¡°but that¡¯s just what he thinks. And I¡¯m asking not just about them, but Zhui¡¯s mistress as well. What do you think, Li? ¡± I stop twirling the rim to clasp my hands together. My thoughts swirl around formulating for an answer that I¡¯m not positively certain is possible in answering reliably. My face does burn a little, so perhaps Simon is right about me drinking past what I¡¯m capable of. The Hikari Mars ¡¯s nuttiness flavor is so focused on the sweetness that it¡¯s easy to forget that it¡¯s an alcoholic beverage. Or maybe I¡¯m just irritated by everyone else¡¯s worries? Leaning back on the barstool I stare at the bright lamp overhead, and I blow some air. ¡°I believe with every fiber of my being¡­ that we are no longer at any actual risk of any Metropol incursions. Much less the wife of a certain Don bothering us anymore, Simon. The fact that we can sit here, in peace, without so much as being collectively poisoned or gunned down without mercy is fundamental proof of that. Will you take that as an answer, Simon? ¡± Simon cuts a humorous scoff, reaching to rub his neck. ¡°Right, I¡¯ll take your word for it, so please cut it out with the scary face now.¡± ¡°Good, I¡¯m relieved we have that out of the way now,¡± I say, gesturing for Simon to hand me the next glass of Hikari Mars. Simon does so (with grave hesitance) and he takes the remaining one for himself. ¡°That aside, I¡¯d like to hear how your visit to L¨¹beck went. Jung¡¯s wife¡­¡± I squint into my glass, ¡°Frau? Was it? She¡¯s about due for her delivery, correct? How is the baby?¡± I squeeze the glass, a horrid flashback to when Jean attacked me, ¡°how is¡­ Jean and Jargon doing? I hope they have not given you much trouble.¡± Simon remains silent for a long time. His hands remain clasped over his chin as he stares at the bottle of Hikari Mars. Simon gazes at me, those weary amber eyes leave me disheartened. ¡°Richter, me, Che, several lieutenants laid to rest and paid our respects to Jung and the others. Afterward, I gave my goodbye to Richter as he departed for Ides. Che, too, parted ways with me for Valspon. And Frau Lee,¡± Simon mutters, ¡°Frau Lee¡­¡± his fingers curl into a fist on the table, as Simon pinches his nose ridge. ¡°Simon?¡± I ask, nervousness in my tone. Simon lifts his head. A heavy sigh like none other. ¡°Frau Lee had a difficult delivery,¡± Simon begins, ¡°despite our efforts, she died in childbirth. The news of Jung¡¯s passing was simply too much to bear for her.¡± It¡¯s news that¡¯s hard to swallow. I¡¯m lightheaded before I knew it. My vision becomes blurry from spinning. I set my glass down¡ªbut down the glass before slamming it down. There¡¯s a brief pause in the bar¡¯s noisiness but it resumes before long. I caress my scar from the chin to my brow, but there is no pain, of course, only numbness. ¡°How horrible,¡± is the only thing I can muster to say. Simon remains silent, only giving a nod before downing his drink as well. ¡°How absolutely horrible¡­ and the baby?¡± ¡°A healthy baby boy,¡± Simon answers¡ªa relieving sigh escapes my lips. ¡°Are Jean and Jargon¡­¡± I caress my blemished cheek, ¡°are they going to raise the child?¡± ¡°Yes, and Jean told me that she wants nothing more to do with the Mafia,¡± Simon says, again pinching his nose, ¡°Jargon¡­ is reluctant, to put it simply. The man wishes to honor Jung by serving as the Wulfhere captain, but in the meantime¡ªuntil another crisis arises¡ªhe told me he will stay by Jean¡¯s side and raise the boy with her,¡± Simon sighs once more, clasping his hands together. ¡°But people change over time. There is no telling if he is willing to leave the Wulfhere behind him if it means a new life with Jean and their adopted child. ¡°Li¡­ I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯ve done nothing but dampen the mood for you, haven¡¯t I? You keep ragging on about letting our issues go to rest, but I simply cannot bring myself to do it. All I have left is you, Li¡­ I¡¯m sorry.¡± I reach over and tug on his sleeve, a painless smile across my face. ¡°I¡¯ll never leave you, Simon, you¡¯re special to me¡­ I owe you a lot. And, well¡­¡± I drum on the table, unsure how to continue, ¡°Simon, after the battle ended at Rouen, I made a decision to raise an orphanage, and as fate had it, a group of deprived children settled into the old cultist church in the mountainous estate¡­ I¡¯ve decided to adopt them as my own, Simon.¡± Simon is simply taken back. His eyes dart around as if registering what he heard. A clear of his throat. his tired, golden eyes lock with mine. ¡°Li, I¡­ I don¡¯t know what to say, I don¡¯t know what to make of this.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have to say or make anything of it, Simon,¡± I say warmly, ¡°but I want you to know you won¡¯t be alone. You have me, and Olga and Brutey¡ªand now an extended family of young ones to look after,¡± I get up from my seat and embrace Simon by the shoulders, his chest pressed to my chest, ¡°you won¡¯t wallow in loneliness anymore, I won¡¯t let you. I have so many more things to learn from you. You raised me when I had nobody, and I want you to see me grow and raise these kids with me, Simon,¡± I stroke his neatly combed hair, ¡°I want you to be happy for your¡¯s and mine¡¯s sake¡­ Jung would want that, too.¡± Simon inhales deep and deflates with a slow sigh. I slowly pull away, shifting on the edge of my seat. ¡°Li¡­ thank you¡­ for staying with this old codger for so long, and¡­¡± Simon stammers the last words, ¡°accepting me in your life.¡± His lips tremble¡ªor maybe I¡¯m imagining it. ¡°I can very much say the same of you, Simon,¡± I say. A grin. I reach out and caress his cheek¡ªit¡¯s hot to the touch. Simon averts his eyes. ¡°So please, please continue to look over me just as you¡¯ve always done, and become a guiding figure to the orphans I¡¯ve taken in, too.¡± Simon responds with a soft scoff, curling his hand over mine. Our eyes meet again; Simon tries to resist smiling but he simply can¡¯t help it. ¡°It¡¯s a herculean task, but I can¡¯t turn down such a humble request from you, Li,¡± Simon says. Before I can say anything, the two of us look up to hear a bumbling Brutus stumble down the flight of stairs, a crowd of boos from the upper floor. He seems rather groggy, and I can¡¯t help but chuckle at his apparent misfortune of losing a game of Mahjong. With some redirecting from other patrons, he stumbles towards our part of the counter. ¡°You better go and take his place up there,¡± Simon says, ¡°let me have some alone time with Brutus¡­ help him sober up, I suppose.¡± ¡°Sounds reasonable to me,¡± I say warmly, I slide off my seat just as Brutus nearly crashes into the one next to Simon. Leaving the two behind, I head upstairs to find a lot more people than I expected. There are four tables, all full except for the one Brutus left from. ¡°Oi! Madame!¡± A drunkard shouts, waving at me to joining his table, ¡°boutta join us for a game of some good ol¡¯ Mahjong?!¡± ¡°Do you even know how to play?¡± A buff one asks, stroking his mighty red beard, ¡°we will not go easy on you, you know?¡± ¡°My, bold of you to assume I am a novice at this game,¡± I remark, carefully folding my skirt underneath me as I sit at the still-warm seat cushion. I look down at the score to find that Brutus has precisely zero points. How typical, it seems, for subordinates to leave me in grave situations. ¡°Say, shouldn¡¯t we reset the game?¡± Asks the third one across from me, he¡¯s rather skinny compared to the other two, ¡°it¡¯s a bit unfair that the Madame has to play at such a sharp disadvantage. Plus, we just started the South round¡­ we should just restart over in the East round, no?¡± ¡°Nonsense,¡± I answer, ¡°this is a fair and just handicap. After all, I think you should be asking me to take it easy on you.¡± ¡°Ho-oh!¡± The red-bearded one roars with laughter, ¡°what a damning taunt! Very well! All bets are off, eh?!¡± With the approval of the other two, we play to our heart¡¯s content, a game of Mahjong.
It¡¯s been a struggle for the ages. I win some and I lose some, but eventually, I recover Brutus¡¯s losses and restore his score to the default twenty-four thousand points, leaving our scores at mostly around the same range. After a series of doubts and worries, my vast energy of flow pulls through: From the red-haired opponent, I shout the one word that ends it all: RON. A gasp from the spectators: a defeating groan from the man I robbed of his worth. He slides the tile out as I lay my hand out flat for all to see. I begin to speak, loud and crisp for all to hear, ¡°Tanyao, Sanankou, Chinitsu, four dora¡­¡± the orange-haired fellow is dizzy, nearly pale in the face, ¡°Kazoe yakuman!¡± The man facepalms and lets out an agonizing cry before fainting in his seat. In the blink of an eye the poor fellow who only had twenty-eight thousand points, has single-handedly lost forty-eight thousand points¡ªleaving him with negative twenty-thousand points. And with his fall marks the end of the game. Mahjong is a game of luck and skill. But it is also about flow, and with it, any player can recover from near defeat in almost any circumstance. A grin peeks; perhaps I overdid it a fair bit. Perhaps I used what little flow¡ªwhat drips of luck I had¡ªand went and offered more than I could offer. I get up from my seat and proceed with heading downstairs. To my surprise, however, Olga, Brutus, and Simon are coming up the stairs. ¡°Leaving so soon?¡± Olga asks, peering past me at the man foaming at the mouth, ¡°seems to me you¡¯re fleeing the crime scene.¡± ¡°I figured it was about time to go,¡± I answer. The three exchange glances. A frown. ¡°No?¡± To my astonishment, Brutus holds the Hikari Mars up high. ¡°The night is still young!¡± Brutus declares with a sleazy smile, ¡°and we still have to go through the rest of this damn bottle of Hikari Mars¡ª¡° a shake of the bottle ¡°still enough to go around, you know, and nothing goes better with Mahjong than a good, cold drink.¡± Simon swipes the bottle from him before turning his attention back to me, ¡°wouldn¡¯t hurt to stay a little longer, would it? Kashiwagi is generous enough to let us stay past closing time. I think it¡¯d be safer if we stayed as a group¡ªjust to avoid any possible¡­¡± ¡°Okay, Simon,¡± I say warmly, ¡°no need to act like such a papa.¡± Simon scoffs as Brutus and Olga giggle. ¡°I suppose I have it in me to play a few more games or so. I¡¯ve never been one to win a game and simply walk away¡­ even if it is in my best interest to leave on a high note.¡± ¡°That¡¯s the spirit,¡± Brutus says nonchalantly, he points at the people I played with, ¡°you three there! Get that bozo out of the way¡­ we¡¯re going to play¡ªif none of you object that is. Jesus, Madame, what exactly did you do to the poor guy?!¡± When Brutus peers at my hand, his jaw hits the floor, ¡°y¡¯know, whatever happened to showing even a little bit of mercy? You won¡¯t be this unforgiving with us, will you?¡± I take my seat where I sat before, being careful to fold parts of my skirt underneath me. ¡°Perhaps,¡± I muse, ¡°perhaps I won¡¯t. Depends on how I feel.¡± With a displeasing sigh, Brutus busies himself with resetting the table, as do the others. As I wait for the game to be readied, I look around the parlor at everyone enjoying themselves in peaceful bliss. Yes, a well-earned commodity. Not a single look of concern among this motley crew¡ªonly an abundance of sincerity in enjoying the now. No longer will any of us have to look over our shoulders. No longer will any of us have to dwell on the future or sulk on the past. Just people living in the moment. Yes, we¡¯ve earned this. We¡¯ve all earned this right to relax¡ªto let loose and be ourselves without insecurity. And frankly, I would have it no other way. I can only wish that this could last forever, and I can only wish that Jung and Julius could enjoy this moment with us. Perhaps the two of them are watching over us, happy that we no longer have to suffer for their sake. With a tap on the shoulder, Olga hands me a glass and pours me a hefty amount of Hikari Mars. I give it a gentle shake¡ªits contents splash and spill against the cold glass walls. I look to the others, and extend the glass up high¡ªlikewise, the others do the same. ¡°One last toast,¡± I declare, ¡°to all our friends and loved ones, no matter where they are.¡± A clang of glasses. A chorus of hearty prosit. Chapter 92: Toscana Requiem - Vol2 END | Faithful Vow in the Eternal Snow
September 9th, 220, somewhere south of Ronda, L¨¹beck
"A-are y-you sure you''ll be fine alone?" Rami asks, ruffling his shaggy hair, "it''s quite a little ways away, and it¡¯s still snowing quite a bit, t-too." With a grimacing smile, I rest a hand on his bony shoulder. "Yes, I am certain, Rami," I respond warmly "you don''t have to stress yourself with needless worry," I turn to point over the horizon, where the head of a tree stands out against the baby-blue sky and pure-white landscape, "Simon is such a worrywart so don''t let it rub off on you. In any case, it never hurts for a little exercise here and there¡ªsomething that I think everyone needs once in a while." Rami still appears reluctant: his hands drum the car wheel. "I-I know t-that... so what do you want me to do, then? Stay here and wait for you? Making it there is one thing, coming back if the snow picks up is another¡ª" "Rami," I interrupt, leaning on his window with a glowing smile, "you may do whatever you want. If you want to stay here where it''s cold, you may do so. But if you want my suggestion, you should head back to Ronda, and I will return by foot," I reach inward to rest my hand on his shoulder, "if Brutus and Olga give you any fuss, I will tell them myself this is what I wanted." Rami sighs and tightens his grip on the wheel, "o-okay, if you say so¡ªI''ll head to Ronda and wait with the others." I take a few steps back as the car crackles to life, then Rami pulls back and drives away to the settlement. As Rami''s car disappears amid the light snowy weather, I head the other way into the endless white plains. I walk past the occasional tree and shrubbery. Everywhere, no matter where I look is layer upon layer of snow. Every crunch and stomp leaves behind a printing about ankle deep. Snowflakes land on my hair and poncho, but thanks to the materials of Simon''s cloak¡ªof what Brutus called my security blanket¡ªI am kept warm and cozy. My ears numb only a little, and the bits of snow tickles my scar tissue. All things considered, it''s a nice atmosphere. I would go as far as to say it''s nothing compared to the snowy mountainous area I live in. I think back then, if I had scouted out L ¨¹beck sooner I would not have minded living here. Of course, there is nothing particularly stopping me from migrating here¡ªor at least visiting here with Isabella and the others. It would be a good way to teach them about there being a world beyond Brunsb ¨¹ttel. Of course, only within Toscana all things considered. But I still want to believe one day in the far future, we can travel around the galaxy in peace. Together¡ªhopefully, but even if I am unable to be by her side for whatever reason I want her to be happy no matter what. Yes, I am sure Isabella would be overjoyed going out into space. Even taking Isabella down here to see this beautiful snow¡ªand I am sure even L ¨¹beck is an even more appealing sight in its summer. All she has known is one big unforgiving slum, forgotten and uncared by others. Maybe it truly is fate that she stumbled into my life, a chance for us to create not sad memories¡ªbut heartfelt ones. I stop, snow crunching from behind me¡ªfar more than just one. Instinctively, I reach for my hip pistol, brandishing it half-way and reel around as fast as I can¡ª But it is unfounded worriedness. I exhale a breath held in, drawing out a cloudy breath that saturates my vision. It is merely a herd of those flightless birds I¡¯ve heard of here and there. It is a rather small-sized one; squinting through their flock I can make out about twenty or so. Most are brownish-black coated heavily by the snowy downfall, but creamy-white ones with polka-dotted designs are scattered about. Their fat bodies are supported by thin legs and slenderly long necks¡ªthey remind of delicate swans I¡¯ve seen in Brunsbuttel, but far larger and with unkempt fur. ¡°My, giving me quite the scare, aren¡¯t you?¡± I remark warmly, sliding the pistol into its strap. The wall of beady orange eyes stares me down silently. I¡¯m surprised I didn¡¯t hear them earlier given their numbers. But just what was I expecting, exactly? The image of the L?yly intruder flashes before my mind¡ªbut I block it out without hesitation. Respect me, and I will respect you. If you cannot do that I can''t guarantee what will happen then. Kamon¡¯s voice echoes unsettlingly in my mind as if she stands by me whispering it into my ear. No more paranoia, I¡¯ve had far too much of it. One of the emus¡¯ lets out a low-drumming¡­ purr of a sort. I look up to see one of the smaller ones trot towards me. It swings its neck around frantically for a second and looks at me sideways as it gets closer before stopping in front of me. The emu flips its head the other side¡ªagain with the neck swinging and curiously the beast cranes its neck closer to me. It did seem smaller afar, but being this close to the bird¡ªwhich now stands roughly upright¡ªseems to be slightly taller than me. ¡°Not afraid of humans, aren¡¯t you?¡± I ask wryly. There is, of course, no response from the strange flightless bird. ¡°Much less afraid of me no less, even though I am regarded as no more an animal than you.¡± The emu opens its beak and lets out a low, gruff drumming growl. The large bird extends its head onto my right hand¡ªnestling it. I rub its fuzzy, warm coat and give it a good, heartfelt pat on the head. The emu responds with another of its gruff purring. For some reason, I can¡¯t help but smile¡ªevoking sharp pain as a result. To my surprise, the emu reaches forward and lightly caresses my scar with its beak. ¡°A little too friendly with humans, aren¡¯t you? I suppose¡­ I am to take that as an objection,¡± I say warmly, rubbing the emu¡¯s hairy neck, ¡°it would be nice to be treated as an equal with others, not as a predator or a monster¡­ to make friends normally as anyone else, and not because of out of fear of what I¡¯ve done.¡± The emu responds with low-pitched thumps. If Simon and the others were here, I have no doubt they would say I¡¯ve gone mad by conversing with animals. ¡°Though I do believe we have a few things in common,¡± I continue, ¡°is that we were both robbed of our homes many years ago¡­ and in some way or another found a new one to call home, with a family accepting you as your own. And even though you are flightless, you are still carefree¡ªand in a way,¡± I smile again while bearing the sharp pain ¡°I am too.¡± You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. A round of deep-rolling grunts and thumping growls from the emu¡¯s friends. The big flightless bird pulls itself away and dashes around me to rejoin its flock as the herd begins to scurry away. The emu comes to a halt and whips its body around to glance back at me. I extend an arm out to wave, and likewise, the emu throws its body weight around and emits a drumming growl. ¡°So long, mister emu,¡± I say, to a higher-pitched purring. The emu does its typical bizarre swinging of body weight and jolts around to join its brethren. I continue towards my destination until I find myself climbing a steeper hill where the tree looms over. Upon reaching the top, I am greeted by a field of makeshift wooden crosses. At the center of it all is the large, lonely tree casting a shadow over the graveyard. I take in the moment, before walking slowly through the hasty lines of marked graves. Each one I pass by has names and inscriptions carved in them. Occasionally, beds of flowers ranging from purple to red peek out from under the eroding snow. I stop in front of two relatively closer to each other than most; one slants slightly onto the other, likely because of the weight of snow. At their base is a relatively stunning bed of yellow and lush-red flowers. I step forward, brushing off some snow that covered the inscriptions.
JUNG LEE
THE LEGENDARY WULF, A LOVING HUSBAND AND FRIEND
FRAU MOSKVINA-LEE
A LOVING AND CARING WIFE
AND A GOOD FRIEND
I rest my hands on both crosses, taking a deep breath that produces a mist upon sighing. ¡°Jung, I¡¯m sorry for taking so long to visit you,¡± I say, leaning over his gravestone, ¡°I hope you will find it in your heart to forgive me. I think it worried me that I wouldn¡¯t have the courage to stand over your grave¡­ it wouldn¡¯t be right. But I felt it is better to pay a visit now rather than never. I kept telling myself that I would come to regret it if I didn¡¯t come at all. ¡°If it was me that died, would you have visited me right away? If it was Simon or Richter¡­ or even Miss Jean, or the Jargon fellow?¡± I take a step back scanning the snowy graveyard, biting down on my lower lip, ¡°I wish I could have put together more materials for a proper graveyard, Jung. It¡¯s too¡­ humble, it seems disgraceful, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Of course, there is no answer¡ªnot even a howl of the wind or a breeze through the tree¡¯s branches. Merely silence, and the gentle snowfall. ¡°But perhaps it is better this way,¡± I answer, ¡°perhaps it is best to keep it modest,¡± a mild scoff. ¡°I can imagine you ragging on about living and resting in simplicity, Jung.¡± A slight grin as I step forward his and Frau¡¯s graves, and glance up at the snow-blue sky, ¡°I imagine the others would want that too, wouldn¡¯t they?¡± Of course, it¡¯s a question that only the dead could answer. I look down at the graves and take another step closer. With another huff of visible breath, I pat myself on the chest in the typical Mafia salute. ¡°Jung Lee, I¡¯ve decided to come out here not only to bid my farewell and pay my respects but to make a promise of my own to you. No matter what it takes, I will preserve the Toscana Mafia,¡± my fist tightens, ¡°I may have failed in having you live to see the fruits of your accomplishments, but I will not make the same mistake twice¡­ I will not let your contributions and sacrifices be in vain. ¡°Jung, Emmanuel, Julius, Maximilian¡­ I will live for all your sakes and I will fight until there is nothing left for me to fight with. And I will fight until the end of time if I have to. I will protect the present and the future, after all, it¡¯s all that I have left¡­ it¡¯s all that we, the survivors are entrusted with. So please,¡± with a misty sigh, I take a step back, scanning Jung and Frau¡¯s and all the other gravestones in the vicinity, ¡°I wish for you all to rest in peace. You have all fought for my sake, but from now on I will fight on behalf of yours.¡± With one last pounding of my chest, I glance around the graveyard. The blooming of the flowers is more apparent now, and it almost seems like the graveyard isn¡¯t as dull anymore. ¡°If only you were here to see this, everyone,¡± I say softly, ¡°nature is a beauty in its own right¡­ there would be no need for elaborate tombstones, is there?¡± I smile weakly, minding the stinging pain. ¡°Well¡­ everyone, Jung, Julius¡­ I suppose this is a¡­ goodbye, I¡­¡± I clear my throat, brushing some hair out of my eyes, ¡°I¡¯ve talked quite a bit, haven¡¯t I? I told myself I would remain optimistic, but the longer I stay here I feel I might break down any moment now,¡± I clear my throat again, reaching to wipe my eyes with my sleeve. ¡°I¡¯ll always have everyone in my heart and mind, and¡­ I¡­,¡± another timid clearing of my throat, ¡±I promise I¡¯ll stop by to visit every now and then¡­ the next time I stop by, I¡¯ll introduce you all to Isabella. She¡¯s wonderful, if a stubborn child at times,¡± I remark. A heavy sigh, then a smile. ¡°I think I said everything I¡¯ve had pent up over the past month or so. Goodbyes are not my forte¡­ but I must be making the others in town nervous by now, so I will be taking my leave, everyone.¡± I turn around, taking a deep breath as I slowly head down the sloped hill onto even ground, then follow the path from which I came. I stop to glance back before continuing onward. As I make my way back, I feel in a greater mood than before. Only positivity weighs in my mind. A better outlook for the future. For the first time in forever, I truly do feel happy. Not an ounce of regret or remorse remains¡ªno longer will I dwell in such matters or paranoia. And why would I? I have nothing to be afraid of now. The future may still very well be uncertain¡ªbut I believe, wholeheartedly everything will work out for the best. There may be hard times ahead, but I will overcome them not by myself but with everyone else. And that¡¯s what truly prevails in the end¡ªhardships are best dealt with together, not saddled alone. What matters most is what I have now, and that¡¯s my newfound family and friends. And I¡¯m sure one day, I will make a friend that means a lot to me. The one person who pulled me out of my wretched ways. One day, I will again meet that individual who challenged my lack of humanity. She may not know it, but she has saved me, and it is my singlemost regret that I could not spend more time with her. Nonetheless, I have met her and that is what matters in the end. I pray that Julius¡¯s bandanna will one day find its way back to me¡ªand with that bandanna the warm, soft hands of Victoria. That day may never truly come ¡­ but I can still hope. And there is no greater feeling for a person to have, but hope. Despite what may come, I will hold out for the possibility of seeing her face again, and ultimately putting aside our differences to befriend each other. So long as I live, I will not let that goodbye go to waste. I will not let our parting of ways become a farewell. And I will hope that once Victoria has the bandanna, she will come to the same determination, too. I stop trotting through the snow. I gaze up at the oceanic skies, extending an arm out at the eternal snow. ¡°Victoria¡­ please stay safe,¡± I say softly, ¡°please live¡­ so that I may see you again.¡± Volume 2 Afterword What I wanted to actually name this afterword: Stop, Drop, Roll and Play Dead: A Cosmic Retrospective. So, yeah we''re here at the end, not the end. But the end of this part of the journey, kinda like a pitstop of sorts, I guess. I thought long and hard (not really) about how I wanted to do this Afterword. Should I keep it brief? Should I make it a little lengthy? Should I write it from Victoria or even Li''s perspective discussing how she feels about the story so far? I think writing is sort of in-character was a riveting idea, but it might be too much work, and I don''t know how I''d get the message across or what message I want to even convey in the first place, anyway. I guess it also doesn''t hurt to make this its own chapter as me, myself the author to you fellas So, yeah. One year and a half later, and some 328k words later, and we''re here. I started with about 10ish followers and amazingly, we''re around 171 now! and even though that favorite list is small, it makes me warm and fuzzy knowing it''s displayed in people''s favorites list. Honestly, stumbling across a random profile and seeing it in there firsthand makes me really giddy. It''s not much but it is honest work. It''s hard to tell how many followed me away back when I first started publishing the first draft of SotCH, and how many have actually stuck around to read through the story again with a new narrative on it. It makes me feel a little guilty, but it also makes me really happy that you guys are just as committed to this as I am. Honestly, I have no idea how I could ever thank you guys for sticking with me for so long. Well, moving on, I toyed with the idea of doing a self-review of the story thus far, but I imagine that might come off as me having self-doubt and being negative, and from my impression, that''s not something readers want to read. But I think what I will say is: the early story after ch17 had a lot of head-hopping, and I think that was something I could have done better. I feel like my amateur storytelling early on is a disservice of sorts for the later part of the story, and it leaves me a little guilty that Li''s narrative overshadows Victoria''s a fair amount since she has a consistent and coherent story with far fewer PoV changes. A friend joked to me once that Li was in fact the protagonist and not the deuteragonist. Before ch51 and before focusing on Li, I had this worry that I wouldn''t be able to establish distinct voices between Li and Victoria as I was mainly writing through Victoria. I think it was at first tricky, but it worked out well. As I dug deeper and deeper into Li''s side of MoT/Requiem, the worry shifted to can I still retain Victoria''s voice and find a way to satisfyingly conclude her narrative? I honestly did not expect MoT/Requiem to last as long as it did, so the worry grew with each passing chapter and each passing day. It''s been almost 9 months since I last had a Victoria chapter and that concerns me. But after ch92 the focus returns to Victoria first and foremost. Ch51 and the Jung chapters were a huge leap of faith for me. The shift to focusing on this Jung Lee character made me uncertain if it would still grab the reader''s attention, and there was a funny gain/lost count when those chapters started being written. Jung Lee was not a character I suddenly conceived: in the original uploaded draft, he was the unnamed lieutenant who sacrificed himself in an explosion to bide time for the fleet, with half a sentence dedicated to his unnamed wife and child. That''s it. I decided to expand on that because I felt I could give it impact as part of Li''s narrative and I think I gave it some justice. Though, since Jung was technically introduced without any further acknowledgment in the Madame Gambit''s chapter, it was tricky to have his PoV remain consistent with Li''s PoV off-screen, but it worked. That aside, I think from here on there won''t be as much head-hopping compared to the Victoria-part MoT chapters. The first half of volume 3, Embers of Ishtar, will be a bit tricky because I did not originally intend for it to be in-depth. You may remember that Li exchanges some words about Brenaco and Li''s realization of not factoring that in her calculations about a possible incursion there. I brainstormed about what I wanted to do with it so I won''t be totally in the dark with that arc. Originally, I had in mind that it was going to gloss over EoI and focus mainly on the second part of vol3, Evergreen Golden Summer, but I felt that skipping over the action stuff which I think I''m better at would give more weight to the lighthearted slice of life stuff that''s mainly EGS. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. And that brings me to the last point I''ll make in this Afterword. To put it simply: I''m burnt out. I think the realization that I needed time off and was experiencing burnout was around ch68-69: the last two Rouen battle chapters. The action was mainly out of the way, and what now? I think of my weaknesses is writing the falling action and resolution. I actually toyed with the idea of calling a hiatus back there, but I didn''t, so I kept persevering. And I think I started to reach greater burnout right after the Fair Lady chapter. I made a bad call of not splitting it into two and it was so draining. And then, only then was I right at the finish line fumbling about did I start to struggle to conclude Li''s character arc... but I made it, somehow. I wanted to finish it for your guy''s sake and mine. I set a goal to reach a good stopping point in the story and then go on hiatus. You may or may not have seen me comment on the forums here and there going off like a broken record about burnouts and hiatus so this is like a formality. I''m going to go on hiatus for the rest of August and maybe some of September. I''m a little nervous because I''m scared of immediately getting rusty, but I hope you guys understand. I don''t ever want to drop this story, ever. It is my baby and I will find a way to finish it even if it means releasing it as an outline of stuff that happens. I did toy with the idea of writing a little fun, head-empty light-hearted short story about a skeleton bro and a female kobold, but I don''t have anything concrete for it yet. I like to write¡ªit''s one of my few outlets from work and life, but it can get a little draining. Or maybe a short story in the same vein of LISA The Painful game set in the immediate aftermath of the Nuclear war on Terra, and I do have a ending in mind for that, but no idea where I may go with that. I have a few SotCH ideas in mind, actually, but I dunno if I want to do anything with them. I love writing SotCH and I can''t imagine writing anything else, honestly. So, yeah, I think that covers everything I''ve wanted to say. Here''s a art I commissioned mossacannibalis for. Also, before I forget. This is not the last time Li will never be seen. One day, she will come back, but who knows when that may be? I''m running out of things to say. All I can say is be safe out there. And remember to be positive. Don''t be sad that things have to end, be happy because it happened. As some engrish dragon lady once insisted, don''t cry, be positive, guys!
That about covers it for the Afterword. in the mean time you can check out these stories that I''m following and enjoy a lot (nudge nudge, check out Aoi, it''s such a hidden gem and he''s a amazing artist). A Fractured Song?????Aoi ???????????Hilda Finds a Home Honorable mention The Way of Wrought Earth, or: My Tale of Rebirth as a Mostly Inanimate Rock Military ranks of the Metropolitan Space Navy
Sailor second class
The entry-level rank for either conscripted or volunteer enlisted members of the space military. Recently inducted members will receive basic military training which can last up to 8 weeks. Depending on the department and specific sub-branches of the MSN, they will receive specialized training and after completion will serve their one or two-year tour of duty, or depending on the longevity of a campaign they may be on as part of a ship or ground forces under the supervision of non-commissioned officers. The insignia consists of a collar pin with no stripes. The equivalent of a Legionnaire/ground forces rank is private.
Sailor first class
Draftees or not, a sailor will become eligible for promotion to sailor first class after one year of military service. In colonial naval forces, however, such as the Ruthenian''s naval militia, conscripted sailors begin their mandatory service at the age of 18, in some colonial cases 17. For Ruthenina, their sailors will be promoted upon reaching the age of 20, and/or they have survived one year of their two-year military service. The insignia consists of a collar pin with one stripe. A Legionnaire/ground forces equivalent is private first class.
Able sailor
Promotion to an able sailor comes with some prerequisites; such as merit, evaluation, or a certain monthly cycle. They may begin to have more specialized training in their department, such as any given bridge''s control systems. The insignia of an able sailor consists of a collar pin with two stripes. A legionnaire/ground force''s equivalent is lance corporal.
Leading sailor
At this point in their career, a leading sailor is expected to be experienced in handling hardware and machinery and maybe the core member of a ship''s main bridge team. In this case, they operate some stations such as a radar or communication with the rest of the ship or with the rest of their fleet/squadron. A leading sailor''s insignia consists of a collar pin with two stripes and a half stripe, with a dot at the front. A legionnaire/ground force''s equivalent is corporal.
Petty Officer Second Class
Similar to an able sailor, advancement to petty officer comes with certain prerequisites such as dependent of their time in service, leadership assessments, performance evaluations by superiors, and examinations of their expertise thus far as some examples. Petty officers at this point may form the nucleus of their bridge team or other specific departments, such as a ship''s fire team or a marine platoon. They generally serve as the assistant to a petty officer first class. The insignia consists of an I-shaped collar pin. The ground force''s equivalent is a sergeant.
Petty Officer First Class
Petty Officers serve as the leading officer of a personnel team in their technical area, with often a second class petty officer assisting them with duties. In marine squads, they serve as the commanding officer. At this point, a first class petty officer will have garnered enough expertise in their specialty that advancement to warrant officer will not be too far off in their future. Insignia consists of an I-shaped collar pin with a dot on the top right side. The ground force''s equivalent is a staff sergeant.
Warrant Officer
Warrant officers are regarded as the senior-most of enlisted ranks but classified as junior-class in comparison to cadet officers such as ensigns or sub-lieutenants. Warrant officers would have at this point be thoroughly proficient in their areas of expertise in contrast to the general training of fleet or ground operations personnel, given they usually rise through the enlisted ranks to get here. Though, it can in rare cases be considered an entry-level rank for academy graduates. In any case, part of their activities will be with training sailors and soldiers in their departments. The insignia consists of a collar pin with a half-field. The ground force''s equivalent is sergeant major.
Ensign
The lowest officer commission rank in the Federation as well some colony militias such as the Ruthenese. Depending on their studies and evaluations, officer cadets will generally start with this rank upon graduation. Their studying will not end at the school''s gates, and usually in times of conflict will have post-commission training in whichever post they are sent to. As such, they will hold very little command responsibilities given they will be learning from their senior officers. They may serve as a junior staff officer to a ship''s commander, as shuttle pilots, or any given department position. They are not as specialized compared to their warrant officers, as they have generally broader fleet training. The insignia consists of a collar pin with a half-field with a single dot at the front. For ground forces, the equivalent is a second lieutenant.
Sub-lieutenant
The second lowest officer commission in the Federation and colonial/Ruthenian navies. Typically this is what an ensign will progress to either through merit and/or evaluation though it is not unheard of for Federation cadet officers to achieve this rank after graduation given they have excellent grades. In Ruthenian and colonial cases, there is a greater chance of an officer cadet becoming this given their anti-piracy measures and pressing for able-bodied leadership. Much like ensigns, sub-lieutenants are expected to learn from their senior officers. In the cases of an ensign being promoted to this, they will be expected in wrapping up their post-graduation training around this point in time. Their actual responsibilities will not change much, however. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! A sub-lieutenant''s insignia consists of a collar pin with a half-field, with a single horizontal dash at the front. A legionnaire/ground force''s equivalent is a first lieutenant.
Lieutenant
The third possible officer commission rank in the Federation and her colonies, and is regarded as the senior-most entry-level rank for academic and marine commissioned officers. Lieutenants will have some command responsibilities at this point in their careers such as will be capable of commanding sections of their ship department, etc, which will help in growing their knowledge of ship and troop command. They can serve as a senior staff officer in their ships'' department, and as a junior staff officer in their fleet''s war councils. In some cases, a lieutenant can become the XO in smaller ships such as cruisers or destroyers, in auxiliary ships such as cargo and engineer craft to better hone their leadership skills. This is not as common in times of peace and is generally more of an occurrence when there is a lack of lieutenant commanders. Lieutenants may also command company-sized ground units, either as marines or Legionnaires units and in some cases military police. During down periods in the MSN such as when there is no expected campaign, they may be posted as a junior instructor in academy courses, or act as advisor/liaison to colonial militaries. A naval lieutenant is equivalent to a Legionnaire/ground captain. The insignia of a lieutenant consists of a collar pin with a half-field, a single horizontal dash towards a front, and a dot in front of the dash.
Lieutenant commander
After the entry-level officer ranks come the first actual field officer rank in the Federation and her territories, the lieutenant commander. This is regarded as a junior-grade level rank for fleet and ground operations officers. Lieutenant commanders are expected to fully know the ropes of all fields of command¡ªfrom ships to section firing lines, and of course ground/Side combat units. They''ll serve as department heads in capital ships, as commanders of small craft, and as a junior-level staff member in a fleet-wide war council. They also serve as the XO of battlecruisers and as COs of smaller vessels such as destroyers and cruisers, as well as auxiliary units. They can oversee command of a battalion-sized ground unit if the demand calls for it. A lieutenant commander''s insignia comprises of a collar pin with a border on two sides and a single dot in the middle. The equivalent of a naval lieutenant commander for ground forces and legionnaires is a major.
Commander
The mid-level field officer rank in the Federation and her colonies. This is the bread and butter field grade rank of fleet and ground officers. Commanders will exercise full command authority over ships and troops by this point in their career. They may serve as COs of battlecruisers and as XOs of battleships and other flagships. This will be the point in their career that they may command a squadron of smaller vessels like destroyers and cruisers, or auxiliary support squadrons. In some cases, commanders may even command a firing section of battlecruisers in the absence of a captain. The commander insignia consists of a collar pin with a border on each end, a single dash on the front left, with no dot. Their ground forces counterpart is a lieutenant colonel and can lead either an augmented battalion or one that''s regiment-sized.
Captain
The senior-level field officer rank in the Federation. They serve as COs of battleships and flagships and may serve as head of their fleet''s various departments, as well as being a mid-level staff officer in fleet-wide war councils. a more senior captain can command a squadron of battleships and battlecruisers if there is no commodore to fulfill the position. For ground units, they can command a regiment-sized ground force. The insignia of a captain is a collar pain with a border on each end, a dash on the left, and a dot in the middle. The ground/Legionnaire rank equivalent is a colonel.
Commodore
The rank of commodore is the junior-most flag officer rank throughout the Federation and is as such the lowest rank possible for an officer to command fleets. Commodores direct and give guidance to their departments, to the ship squadron(s) under them, and give directives to ground units. As part of larger fleets commodore serve as the armada''s department head, and in such a case may as commander of small spacecraft divisions. For fleet-wide department councils, they are considered a mid-level staff member. They serve as COs of flagships and are capable of commanding squadrons ranging from mightily battleships, battlecruisers, and an assortment of smaller vessels either as part of an armada''s wing, or an autonomous squadron. In some instances, like with Chal Hugo during his mission to the Frankish realm in 219/220, a commodore can hold full authority over command of several squadrons at once, numbering between 400~800 ships. For ground units, the equivalent is brigade general, which is capable of commanding a bridge-sized ground force. A commodore''s insignia is a collar pin with no borders and two horizontal dashes.
Rear admiral
Rear admirals are the second junior flag officer rank throughout the Federation. Like the commander rank, this is the backbone flag rank for Federation officers. Rear admirals serve as numbered fleet wing commanders when part of a larger fleet, and act as high-level staff officers in fleet-wide department council meetings. When part of a larger fleet, it''s possible for a rear admiral to act as a deputy commander. A rear admiral''s insignia consists of a collar pin with no borders and a single star on the left. The ground/legionnaire equivalent is major general, which can command a reinforced brigade-sized ground force.
Vice admiral
The mid-level flag officer commission rank in the Metropolitan Spacy Navy and colonial counterparts. They hold full authority over their fleet and ground troops. When there are multiple fleets involved vice admirals serve as department heads. They act as department chiefs in fleet war councils. A vice admiral''s insignia consists of a collar pin with no borders and two stars. For legionnaire and ground units, the equivalent rank is lieutenant general, capable of commanding a divisional-sized formation.
Admiral
The rank of admiral is the senior-level officer commission rank in the Federation and colonies like Ruthenia. An admiral''s command responsibilities may include command of combined Federation fleets and ground/Side operations. Some will form part of the chief of staff in the Federation armada. Depending on an assignment''s nature, either the Congressional Assembly or the defense ministry may appoint an admiral to oversee a strategic star zone as well. For ground units, they may command a corps-sized ground formation. The insignia of an admiral consists of a collar pin with no borders and three stars. The legionnaire/ground forces equivalent is a general.
Fleet admiral
The highest level flag officer rank in the Metropolitan Space Navy. They are more or less the supreme commander as appointed by the Congressional Assembly. The ground forces counterpart would be the general of the army, which likewise commands the marine branch of the Spacy Navy. Though the Frankish Legionnaires were technically a separate organization outside of MSN jurisdiction, it has been reorganized into the MSN branch sometime in the 200s''.
A Frankish Legionnaire with M88 military uniform, unofficially called the Perdenka by Legionnaires stemming from its prolific use in the 180s'' Bloody Perdenes conflicts. The uniform still sees uses late into the 3rd century in Side and planetary operations in several different variants. Examples of Metropolitan Naval uniforms. The top left is roughly the uniform of a flag officer (starting from a commodore). The top right is roughly a lower commissioned officer uniform (from warrant officer to at least captain rank). The bottom left is the armor of an enlisted ship marine (non-officer), the middle depicts armor of a ship marine officer, and the bottom right is an enlisted sailor''s uniform (from Sailor second class to petty officer class) The flag they''re holding is the Metropolitan space naval flag. Volume 3 Chapter 93: Embers of Ishtar | Toscana Heroine
NOVEMBER 29TH, 220
THE YILAN
ENSIGN HAPP-SCHWARZENBERGER¡¯S QUARTERS
Hunching under the silver shower head, the torrent of water sprays my backside with its unrelenting heat that scorches my flattened hair. And as much as it gives off a tickling sensation, I enjoy it. Before that fateful, ill-fated expedition I never used to be the type to appreciate hot showers¡ªeven less mildly warm showers. I¡¯ve always preferred icy showers¡ªthey¡¯ve helped with rejuvenating me, to stay prepared for the day ahead. Ice showers provided me with a sensation that I believed hot ones could never provide. I didn¡¯t have to worry about the designated shower running out too long because I never took long showers to begin with, because as much as I used to swear by cold showers, if I stayed in too long then I¡¯d be shivering after the shower ends. And right on cue, I hear the fifth round of that robotic, one-toned masculine voice: ¡°User¡¯s shower time will exceed the set maximum limit. Please turn off the shower or the system will shut off automatically in three minutes.¡± So brash and authoritative. I wish the engineers of this ship would have at least designed a more feminine voice set. I don¡¯t want to be reminded every two minutes by such a forceful brute voice that the only luxury I take solace in can so easily be robbed for the rest of the day. I used to be able to enjoy two showers a day with ice-cold water; now I can barely enjoy one. I push myself up and lean back in this overly-cramped golden encasement. As much as I appreciate this small, relaxing cocoon, I find it too cramped. If I didn¡¯t know any better I would guess that the designers of this ship line do not appreciate shower compartments as much as I do and they must hate them with a passion. I can barely move around, and it is hard enough as it is to extend my legs out and clean myself. Being a shower connoisseur is suffering. Friederika told me once most of the newer-model ships have both somewhat larger shower encasements. On top of that, they come equipped with better artificial systems that don¡¯t make you feel as though they are judging you indifferently and making you guilty about reaching your allocated shower times¡ªor at least you are capable of customizing them a fair amount. But that¡¯s just what Friederika says¡ªand knowing her, the bloody gremlin only heard it because of selective hearing from personnel visiting from other ships. I can¡¯t help but crack a smile. If Friederika heard me say that nonchalantly, she¡¯d probably pinch me on¡ª ¡° User¡¯s shower time will exceed their allocation. Please turn off the shower or the system will shut off automatically in one minute and fifty seconds,¡± the inconsiderate shower panel says in its typical manner, or I guess lack thereof. I almost want to kick it, but the most I can manage is a knee jab. It almost makes me wish I could bring Vivi along, just so I could plug her into my cabin and let her have full reign over my cabin quarters. Though, tilting my head back to let the welcoming water splash my torso at full power, I can only wonder if the ship would reject Vivi as a virus? Nah, I doubt it, it¡¯s almost criminal that the artificial system is arbitrary in contrast to Vivi¡¯s level of design. Given that the Yilan is an older model though, it¡¯s not too far a possibility. ¡°Thirty seconds until the allocated water supply is terminated,¡± the horrible shower artificial intelligence says. With a defeated sigh, I lean back against the rather icy wall and brush my bangs¡ªthe wetness makes it stick to my palms. Regardless of the rigid shower allocation, I¡¯m grateful that I can bask in this warm summer rain in the first place. To come into here is to prepare for a tiring day of being called the Miracle Ensign, the Toscana Heroine, and other such embarrassing names. No, I take that bad, they¡¯re not even embarrassing, they¡¯re just inconsiderate. And yet, everyone pays me respect that I¡¯ve never thought possible. You outdid the Madame Scarface. You saved hundreds of thousands of lives! And just as much as I get praise, there are those in the back with piercing gazes; biting down on their thumbs. I try to pay them no attention as much as the ones who give me a pat on the back. And because Friederika has been assigned to a different department she¡¯s never around to get me out of a pinch. It¡¯s frustrating, really. I try to pay this newfound attention no mind, but I wish they would keep their distance. They don¡¯t know the struggle I had to go through. The anxiety that I underwent knowing that a herculean problem was thrown into my lap¡ªone that hardly a few could pull off. And yet¡­ looking back on it now, it seems like such an obvious maneuver, you push through the fleet ahead of you, avoid any needless skirmishing and regroup with the main fleet. And yet people still died¡­ and there was nothing I could do for the Ides attachment. If I had more time¡­ if I had more experience, I could¡¯ve advised sending a transmission to the Commodore¡¯s fleet and regrouping with the Ides fleet to make a stand. But I didn¡¯t. And although I saved a few hundred thousand lives, I could do nothing to save a fleet that was half of that. I¡¯m a false Miracle Ensign, there was nothing in Toscana that warrants me being a hero. I failed so many and we were so close to facing a second annihilation once we merged with the Baltit fleet. By now the familiar warmth has disappeared. I failed to notice that the rude artificial companion has shut off my pleasure¡ªmy soothing cascade. And yet, just as much as this is my watery sanctuary, it is the one place where I can dwell on my failures. Just as I can get away from the endless praise and applause for what I¡¯ve done, I squat in here and wonder if things went just a little differently¡ªif I stormed the commodore¡¯s planning room and confronted him directly. If Buttermilch and I were positioned differently on the bridge, maybe Buttermilch would not have been impaled. Even if one of the other officers¡ªlike warrant officer Casavant¡ªtook initiative, he could¡¯ve done things differently¡­ or maybe things would¡¯ve gone exactly the same? Casavant could¡¯ve taken all the fame for himself, and he would¡¯ve gotten a bloody lame moniker like the Hero of Toscana and Miracle Casavant. It¡¯s no secret that lieutenant commander Mazzareli has been contemplating recommending me for a double promotion. But why would he do that? Why should I get a promotion built on the foundations of other¡¯s misery and death? Is that the sort of thing that Buttermilch would¡¯ve wanted? Do I even deserve such a promotion when Mazzareli could¡¯ve been promoted for the acts of courage he committed in the latter half of the battle? After all, I got anxious and ran away after dictating my plan to Mazzareli. I¡¯m nothing better than a coward. Burying my face in my hands, I can¡¯t help but wonder: Is that the kind of legacy I want to carry on, in Buttermilch¡¯s honor? Would it have been better for me if I had died instead, and earned a double¡ªor even a triple posthumous promotion? It¡¯s not unheard of for medal recipients of the Victorian Cross to be awarded posthumously, and undoubtedly so for one to receive a double advancement. On the other hand, it¡¯s exceptionally rare for a living recipient to receive such a treatment. If I had died, it would merely be a prestigious boost for the Happ-Schwarzenberger family, and Mazzareli could carry on Buttermilch¡¯s legacy. I wonder if all of those I inadvertently sent to their deaths would receive the same treatment? Would their families be presented with medals of valor, not knowing that they have died deaths that could¡¯ve been avoided, granted if their commanding officer had listened to simple advice? Would even the officer presenting them with such knowledge know for sure that a certain Commodore pursued fame and glory over what is the logical thing to do. That a particular officer¡¯s failure to obey his government¡¯s orders, and failing that, ignoring the warning of a staff officer despite the accusation of ¡®conforming to a democratic staff vote¡¯? Considering that the only sensible thing commodore Chal has done after evacuating Toscana was not commence another operation after Li left for Rouen. Well, leave Toscana and think twice about invading Toscana again. What¡¯s there to say Chal won¡¯t take credit for what I¡¯ve done and attain his fame and glory in another way, by claiming that he decided to regroup, to advise a two-point diversion, and withdrawal while Li¡¯s forces were distracted? If Friederika was here standing over me right now, she¡¯d chastise me that those fateful turns of events was for the better, or maybe she¡¯d whine that I¡¯m overthinking things too much again. I sit my bum down on the slippery shower floor, letting out a sigh as I press my knees to my chest since it¡¯s about all I can do. It¡¯s gotten a little colder now, and I can¡¯t help but shiver a little. My towel and my uniform are just out of arm¡¯s reach, and I cannot be bothered in reaching over just yet. As I stare at the pink towel hanging lazily over the creamy countertop, I can only wonder if these Miracle Ensign and Heroine of Toscana names will last longer than the Cadet Puke name that stuck with me a year or two ago at Lepanto. I smile wearily, wondering where lieutenant Puke-face McGee might be these days. I did hear mister grumpy old Putsch is a Major these days, and I find that unbelievable. Brushing a wet bit of hair under my nose, I can¡¯t help but wonder if Putsch still gets teased about the puke incident? Does he have to deal with being called Major Puke-face McGee by his colleagues? Entertaining the thought for a little longer, I hear fumbling around and some thuds here and there followed by an all-too-familiar cry. There are some muffling noises from behind the thick yellow door, and I can only guess it¡¯s Friederika sprouting curses directed at me and my lineage. It would be a very Friederika thing to do for her. I wiggle out of the drying subpar compartment in time to hear my annoyed friend knock on the door¡ªto my surprise, it¡¯s not a frantic one; like an attention-starved cat desperately clawing on the door begging to be back in. It¡¯s gentle knocks, accompanied by Friederika speaking through the thick door. ¡°Vicky¡­? You¡¯re still in there, right?¡± Came Friederika¡¯s question. Even before I get the answer out, there¡¯s the shaking of the doorknob as Friederika tries to force herself in. ¡°I¡¯m going to come in, is that okay?¡± Even if I said no, Friederika couldn¡¯t keep herself away from me even if she wanted to. Usually, in the past, Friederika invades my privacy if someone rebuffs her, but she hasn¡¯t been doing that since we came to the Yilan. Could be she is just incredibly lonely since we¡¯ve been separated from being assigned different departments. The most I can do is refuel her Friederika energy at least. With a dramatic eye-roll, I answer dryly, ¡°you know, one of these days I¡¯m going to just preemptively chuck a boot at that cute face of yours, you bloody wanker.¡± I manage to reach for the pink towel and cover myself just as Friederika enters the relatively cramped bathroom. Right off the bat, I could tell she¡¯s tired¡ªbut it¡¯s a weary expression she hides immediately upon making eye contact. Maybe I¡¯m imagining it? ¡°I¡¯m so humbled that you would let little ol¡¯ me in!¡± Friederika says, throwing her arms around me. There¡¯s a slight squeeze¡ªand I expect her to recoil upon realizing I¡¯m still dripping wet. Interestingly, she doesn¡¯t. ¡°It feels so long since I¡¯ve been able to bugger my old mate!¡± ¡°Kiki¡­,¡± I begin ¡°it¡¯s only been like, a few days at least?¡± Quite the drama queen at that, ¡°you act like you haven¡¯t seen me in months. Also, er,¡± it proves rather difficult in getting my arms free so I can tighten my towel, ¡°I¡¯m pretty soaked still¡­ doesn¡¯t it bother you that your uniform might get ruined? You know Prince gets his panties inna bunch over that. Blimey, Kiki¡­¡± she looks up with that goofy smirk of hers, and she shakes her head. ¡°It¡¯s just clothes,¡± Friederika says a little too matter-of-factly. Just as I reach for the second towel to dampen my hair, Friederika must¡¯ve read my mind, because she swipes it and drops it over my head first. ¡°What¡¯s he going to do? Put me on latrine duty?¡± ¡°Well, first of all,¡± I remark ¡°you¡¯d soil yourself if you dared utter those kinds of words to the Lieutenant. And second of all¡ªah,¡± Friederika is being rough, suffocating me with the towel. ¡°And secondly?¡± The short-haired gremlin muses. I grab Friederika¡¯s hands and pull them down¡ªslipping my makeshift towel mask off and causing the Sub-Lieutenant to fumble close to me. She must be taken by surprise since Friederika mildly blushes at this abrupt change of events. ¡°Hey, what¡¯s with you?¡± Friederika fumbles, doing little to wrestle out of my grip. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. ¡°And those are my words exactly,¡± I remark, releasing Friederika briefly to pinch her cheeks. She lets out a Friederika squeal as I pull on them, and Friederika shakes her head in protest. ¡°What¡¯s with you all of a sudden? You charge into my room, flail around and invade my privacy¡ªI was thinking earlier that it¡¯s because you had another prospecting date turned around¡­¡± another tug on her flabby cheeks, ¡°was I right on the mark, I take it?¡± Realizing that Friederika can only reply in intangible nonsense, I let go of her cheeks and watch smugly as she rubs her abused cheeks. ¡°Well, in a way, yes¡ªbut, for the most part, no,¡± Friederika answers, shifting to relax her bum on the countertop, ¡°I think you were too deep in your shower thoughts earlier to notice. I tried contacting you through your console some time ago, um¡­¡± Friederika pinches one of her eyebrows, then her bangs, ¡°so I decided to drop by and tried calling out to you in the shower, but I decided to just wait¡ªyou got angry at me for barging into your shower that one time, so I waited on your bed instead.¡± Huh, so that crash I heard earlier was after the shower cut out, then? Tilting my head, there¡¯s no way I was in the shower for that long, right? I would¡¯ve heard Friederika crashing about like a wild animal the first time. I¡¯ve known her for almost my entire life and for as long as I¡¯ve had messy rooms, she has always comically failed navigating through them successfully. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll give you one thing,¡± I begin ¡°at least you had the decency of waiting until after the shower ends before you invited yourself in, sheesh,¡± Friederika tries to chuckle it off. I cross my arms under my breasts, pouting my cheeks before continuing. ¡°Seriously, I¡¯m the one who gets an earful of Prince when he saw your uniform that one time,¡± a strong inhale; a pump of my chest, ¡°like I¡¯m your nanny or something!¡± ¡°I know, I know,¡± Friederika says reassuringly, ¡°you¡¯re right.¡± Feeling a little bad, I know I can¡¯t get mad at Friederika though. Friederika does get a little too lonely without me sometimes. And remaining in solitary without having a good friend to bicker and banter can get overwhelming for me, too. ¡°I gotta say, though,¡± Friederika continues, squinting past me at the pathetic shower compartment, ¡°you¡¯ve still awfully lousy with managing your shower supply,¡± in protest, I blow onto my wet hair sticking to skin still, ¡°I¡¯d think lieutenant Plotte would get a lot more mad at you after the department head gets furious at him over a certain pretty princess Ensign using up this level¡¯s water supply,¡± oh shut it, you bloody wanker, ¡°you know, sooner or later, they¡¯re just going to shut off your water altogether¡ªhey!¡± A light kick on the shin. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe there¡¯s nothing wrong with monologuing to the shower panel than this dark-haired gremlin after all. ¡°Piss off, I need to get changed now. You kinda knocked over my clothes and got them all crumpled and wet now,¡± I answer, partially lying, ¡°maybe just this once I can cover my ass and pin the blame on you once the Lieutenant even looks at me for more than a second?¡± Well, to be fair, he¡¯d still get mad at me for letting Friederika walk all over me in the first place, anyway. It keeps slipping my mind to confiscate Friederika¡¯s key so that we can avoid these incidents altogether. But as I stare into those pouty eyes, I know the girl would be thoroughly heartbroken if I took it from her. But mostly, my room console would literally never stop ringing, ever. ¡°Maybe you shouldn''t place your clothes and towels on top of each other?¡± Friederika retorts, and I can¡¯t protest since that much is true, ¡°anyway, what¡¯s wrong with me being here?¡± Friederika asks, planting her hands on her hips with that shit-eating smug of hers, ¡°I¡¯ve already seen you nuddy before, like I know there¡¯s a mole on your¡ªack!¡± Despite this bathroom space being sorta small as it is, I can still afford to kick Friederika in her cushioned rear. ¡°Right, give a move on, then, love,¡± I say, slapping her with my jacket, ¡°go on, navigate through the deadly minefield and onto the safe zone, now.¡± ¡°You¡¯re awfully a violent one, you know that?¡± Friederika laments, cupping hands over her chest, ¡°hurting a fair young maiden like myself! Those leave bruises, you know! If someone wooed me, what would they think¡ª¡° ¡°Nobody is going to think anything because nobody in their sane mind will see you nuddy ever,¡± I say, slamming the door shut. I can hear Friederika mumble then let out a cry as I hear a thump and crash as she, yet again, clumsily fails to follow through with the most basic of advice. It doesn¡¯t take long for me to get ready and I¡¯m out of the bathroom before long. Friederika manages to survive, and she hangs off the bedside holding one of many books, but I know better she¡¯s not too interested in reading any of my literature. Interestingly, Friederika seems to have taken this as an opportunity to-so to speak¡ªwind down by slipping off her jacket and loosening her tie. ¡°Wow, I don¡¯t have to report you missing in action in my battlefield after all,¡± I say with enthusiasm, ¡°sounds like you deserve a Victorian cross and a double-promotion more than I do!¡± ¡°Very funny, you almost made me chuckle,¡± the Sub-Lieutenant remarks, putting the book aside and rolling over to sit on the bed. I didn¡¯t realize it, but she looks awfully serious for some reason. Maybe concerned? Is she in sub-lieutenant Trachenberg mode now? As if reading me like an open book, Friederika begins to speak, ¡°y¡¯know mate, when are you going to even clean your room?¡± Maybe I just keep imagining things. I couldn¡¯t help but scoff, ¡°you¡¯re not my mum. Besides, even if, say, Prince suddenly went around inspecting rooms, it¡¯s not like it¡¯d make a difference. I could pretend to be a normal person and put these away for once, and it¡¯ll still just get cluttered again the moment any inspectors carry on to the next person to torment,¡± Friederika only shakes her head with a sigh. I follow her gaze around my cabin at the nets attached to walls and shelves containing an overwhelming amount of books that Mazzareli gifted to me after Lucky Alphonse settled down. The collection comprises historical books, some non-fiction and others literature. Seems like Buttermilch was a fan of murder thrillers too. For most of September, I haven¡¯t been able to dig at them too much, and it was only fairly recently I¡¯ve been able to read a few. ¡°I should¡¯ve talked you out of getting them,¡± Friederika groans, sighing with her head low. She looks off to the side at my coffee table, on it is the simulation device projecting data from the Toscana battle. ¡°Or maybe I should¡¯ve talked him out of giving them to you,¡± Friederika lays on the bed and runs a hand through her hair, ¡°if only the Lieutenant Commander and Buttermilk knew what would¡¯ve become of these books¡­ just more decor for some slob¡¯s room!¡± I step over the clutter with ease to join the bed freeloader, slapping her on the knee in response. ¡°Seriously, you¡¯re kind of abusive,¡± Friederika says, arms over her eyes. I expect her to go on, but the two of us remain quiet for some time. Finally, Friederika begins again, ¡°Vicky¡­ I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯m a little wiped from today,¡± she glances again at some of the book nets for a bit, then at the simulation projection, ¡°the senior officers keep complaining that we¡¯ve been getting a lot of mundane tasks lately¡ªat least I don¡¯t have to do any desk jobs, I guess.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± I reach over for one of the books I¡¯m currently reading¡ªa partially fictional, mostly historical account of some Chinese kingdoms that existed nearly two millennia ago. ¡°I take it that your oh-so-busy schedule means you come here to slack off and bother me instead?¡± Friederika says nothing. Instead, Friederika nonchalantly shoves her bum in my face as she grunts and reaches over to grab the telly¡¯s controller. ¡°You know, speaking of which, I couldn¡¯t help but notice you¡¯re getting a little too comfortable crashing in here¡ªwhat with your jacket on the chair and boots in the mess there¡ªblimey, I¡¯m at least relieved you had the decency to take the boots off before hopping on me bed.¡± ¡°Oh come on now,¡± Friederika says, turning the telly on before continuing, ¡°don¡¯t give me that scary face. I¡¯ve had a long day, you know? Or more specifically, somewhat of a long week with the heavy work. I haven¡¯t been bothering my good mate at the same time as well¡ªand I¡¯ve just been bottling up so much stress you know? All the while you haven¡¯t done anything yourself. It¡¯s only fair I can drop by to bug you.¡± I don¡¯t think I can agree with that logic, but who am I to judge? She¡¯s not wrong. I haven¡¯t exactly been assigned any tasks. Even now I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s just because it¡¯s out of consideration by Mazzareli or his acting adjutant, or some convincing by Prince¡­ though I think that would probably be the other way around with Mazzareli telling Prince to take it easy with me. Friederika must¡¯ve sensed I was lost in thoughts since she helps herself with plopping down on my lap with eyes trained on the telly. It¡¯s that Perdenese war drama the two of us sorta watched back in August. I think this episode in particular is one of the later ones¡ªnear the end maybe? I¡¯m thinking it¡¯s after the time skip at least because one of the characters on screen¡ªa silver-haired gal is notably older with her signature eye patch and patched up left shoulder¡­ I think the character¡¯s name was Lain¨¦. This female warrior, clad in worn-out bearskin wolf armor, trots on her horse alongside her marching regiment, tattered red banners bearing a black hawk can be seen every few shots amid the absurdly long spears. Lain ¨¦ solemnly observes her foot soldiers march through the earthly snow as one of her adjutants¡¯ comments about the state of affairs with their wagon train. Just then, a galloping messenger halts in front of Lain¨¦ and her subordinate, and hastily unravels a scroll frantically announcing that scouts have sighted culverin-type cannons among the enemies fortress and that an intercepted message indicates more will be along the way¡ªalong with devices capable of delivering ¡®Thace fire¡¯. To further add to the list of terrible news, the messenger pulls on his horse reins¡ªas if reluctant to be the bearer of bad news¡ªand stammers that the intercepted report indicates that an additional force of some fifty-thousand men will join the defenders. Lain ¨¦, of course, only silently nods and stares off into the distance. The other two stare at her with anxiety¡ªthe adjutant is first to break the silence, worriedly asking if they should consider turning back. She waves the messenger off¡ªwho is more than happy to gallop off. The silver-haired maiden turns her attention to the adjutant, ¡°if we do not fight them now, we will merely be delaying the inevitable decisive battle. ¡°We fight them now on our terms when we still have the chance,¡± Lain¨¦¡¯s subtitles read. Lain¨¦ slowly looks up as the first signs of snow lands on her bandaged palm. ¡°Time is not on our side, commandant, this conflict has been raging since the glory days of Yoko Tori and Cao Yi. If I wait tomorrow, the next day, and the year after that, my children and their grandchildren will wage a fruitless war to unite a continent that knows only war. I¡¯ve inherited Cao¡¯s legacy of bringing this war to closure in my lifetime,¡± Lain¨¦ pulls on her horse¡¯s reins, trotting alongside the rest of the regiment. ¡°And by the Gods¡¯ will, I hope with enough fertilizing of these endless fields of blood and iron, I will not have to pass my dreams to countless generations.¡± The scores of glistening spearheads and falling snow transition the scene overhead to imposing formations and intense drumming as the army marches into a distance where the sun slowly sets¡ªin the far distance distant rumbling and rising smoke. ¡°Pray tell,¡± the subtitles of Lain¨¦¡¯s voice-over continues, ¡°that I can honor your memory, Cao Yi.¡± And with that, the end card and credit roll. I¡¯m so drawn into the telly that I almost don¡¯t notice Friederika stirring on my lap. ¡°Quite the show, eh?¡± The lazy Sub-Lieutenant murmurs, rubbing one of her eyes. ¡°You know, I still can¡¯t make heads or tails of you lodging in here simply to watch the telly or to, well, hang out with me,¡± I think that may have come out a little too snarky. Friederika seems to pay it no mind¡ªshe only scoffs. It makes me feel a little guilty that all I do is badmouth Friederika¡­ she does mean the world to me. ¡°Who says I can¡¯t do both?¡± Friederika answers, trying to suppress a yawn. ¡°Honestly, your thighs are nice and soft. The telly is just a bonus,¡± Friederika locks eyes with me and smiles lovingly, ¡°Vicky, I really am relieved that you let me hang out here with you.¡± I stroke her head before continuing, ¡°hey now, don¡¯t be so down about it. What¡¯s brought this all about anyway? You never did specify what this sudden arrival on my doorstep entailed.¡± She mentioned that there¡¯s been a greater load of tasks lately. A glance at the calendar nearby; is it because of what I think it is? Friederika bites her lower lip¡ªshe breaks eye contact and turns her head to the side. ¡°Well,¡± Friederika says, clearing her throat, ¡°they¡¯re granting us one last shore leave that¡¯ll last a week in a few hours¡­¡± I freeze taking in those words. Shore leaves aren¡¯t anything out of the ordinary; Friederika mentions in passing that they¡¯ve happening every couple of weekends and sometimes for the weekdays and she used to bug me to go with her, but I never did go¡­ and yet Friederika continued to ask every time the chance for shore leave came up. It makes me feel guilty not spending time with Friederika that way. But if this is the last scheduled shoreline leave ¡­ ¡°I¡¯m sure you probably already know what I¡¯m getting at, right?¡± Friederika asks timidly. She clears her throat again, repositioning her head on my lap. Of course, as I stroke her hair some more, there could only very well be a few reasons why. ¡°Admiral DeRyck¡¯s fleet arrived in the star zone¡­ and rumor has it he¡¯s furious about the Commodore¡¯s state of affairs,¡± Friederika sighs and rolls over in my lap. ¡°Seems like the Admiral wants all the department heads at his flagstaff as soon as possible¡­ there¡¯s been a lot of personnel in the shuttle bays anyway.¡± ¡°The brigands of Brenaco,¡± I whisper. Friederika is quiet for a moment, but nods. I almost want to bolt up and run out immediately, but the heaviness of Friederika prevents me from doing so. ¡°Has Mazzareli left for the Admiral¡¯s ship yet?¡± Friederika doesn¡¯t answer yet, but she does mumble something. ¡°Friederika?¡± I ask, tugging lightly on her shoulder. The gal murmurs again¡ªand it¡¯s not long before the first round of snores violates my eardrums and is amplified from reverberating throughout the room. With a deflating sigh, I shrug my shoulders. Blimey, Friederika, what a crucial time to pass out! I¡¯m surprised she hasn¡¯t flat-out passed out sooner judging from these ear-shattering snores. If I didn¡¯t know any better, I would figure this was Friederika¡¯s plan all along to keep me pinned down so I couldn¡¯t do anything reckless¡ªand as I look at that peaceful face, I don¡¯t think I can blame her. And for a brief moment, I am reminded of that horrible dream of a middle-aged Friederika¡ªand I immediately perish the thought. I¡¯d never let that happen. But still, considering that DeRyck¡¯s fleet has taken this long to reach us, and given that we haven¡¯t been recalled to Toscana this entire time, I can only guess that Li has succeeded in some way at Rouen¡­ no, I can only hope she has. SNUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUH Oh, blimey. Chapter 94: Embers of Ishtar | Bitter Dreams, Good Friends Around and around Friederika and I go. The two of us clasp hands tightly, the joys of spinning eternally on the playground. We kick sand around, giggling all the same, losing ourselves in excitement. "This is fun!" Friederika says giddily "I hope this never ends!" It is fun. I haven¡¯t had this much fun in forever! Though, maybe we should play again sometime? Pointing at the sky, it''s getting a little dark though. Our parents might get a lil¡¯ worried, y''know? "No!" Friederika pouts her fat cheeks, a staunch crossing of her equally fat but short arms, "I want to play with you some more! It¡¯s far from being dark!" She opens her eyes; they¡¯re big and round like a pup¡¯s. ¡°Unless, unless¡­ you don¡¯t want to play with me anymore? You want to get away from me that badly?¡± Friederika mumbles ¡°you¡¯re lying to me like all the other kids¡­?¡± What? No! What would even make you come to that idea? You¡¯re a silly billy! I just don¡¯t want our mums and pops to come by scolding us and ruin the moment is all¡­ we can always play later! Friederika squints at me with pursed lips, then she grabs one of my hands and cups both of hers over it. ¡°You really, really mean that?¡± The girl asks, getting closer to me, ¡°we¡¯ll really, really play together next time?¡± I give my nod. And the day after that, and the week after that! ¡°I¡¯ll hold you to that!¡± Friederika says, a toothy grin. I squeeze her fat hands; she squeezes back. ¡°I really, really will hold you to that, you know.¡± I take a step forward, Friederika¡¯s eyes widen again; this time in surprise, her mouth forms a big O. I throw my arms around her and give her the tightest squeeze I can manage¡ªshe lets out a startled oomph. You¡¯re the only friend I¡¯ve made recently, Fredrickly. There was another girl I met recently, but she was bigger than me and made fun of me ¡®cus of my voice, and although we made a promise to meet again, we never did, and that makes me sad¡­ so! I know how you feel, and I don¡¯t want my new best friend to feel that way, it¡¯s too sad, innit?! ¡°You..¡± Friederika mumbles, is she trying to suppress a laugh? ¡°Fred-ickly? It¡¯s Friederika, you goof!¡± That¡¯s what I said, though. ¡°No!¡± Friederika pulls away, she grins but her eyebrows are furrowed, ¡°Friederika! It¡¯s easy to pronounce, what¡¯s wrong with you, you nutter?¡± I ain¡¯t a nutter¡­! It¡¯s my turn to pout. Friederika grins again, this time she yanks me to her. Her grip on me is tighter than before. Fine, fine, how about this? Um¡­ I¡¯ll call you Kiki. ¡°Ki¡­ki?¡± Friederika repeats. There¡¯s a moment of silence; then she shakes a little. She makes some choking gasps¡ªand I pull myself back to see streams of tears and some reddening under her eyes. Hey, hey! I didn¡¯t mean to make you cry! I¡¯m sorry¡­ I can just call you Fredrickly again if you want! I mean, um¡­ I can do my best to pronounce it again. Friederika, however, wipes her eyes and tries to laugh off the sobs. ¡°I think I prefer you calling me Kiki over Friedrickly,¡± she says, and she pinches my cheeks, ¡°but in return, I¡¯ll call you Vicky. It¡¯s only fair, right? If I have to call you Victoria every time, that¡¯s going to be a lot of mouthfuls! What kind of name is Victoria, anyways?¡± Hey, I mean, at least it¡¯s better than my surname¡­ I can¡¯t even pronounce it, none of the other kids can! Happ¡­ Happ- Schwhukzaburger, or something. Friederika, of course, can¡¯t help but giggle. It¡¯s a funny name, ain¡¯t it? Why can¡¯t it be something simple? ¡°Now that¡¯s a funny name!¡± Friederika grips me by the shoulders. She looks me up and down, revealing that goofy grin again. ¡°But a name¡¯s only a name, right? It ain¡¯t nothing to fuss over. Friends, though¡­¡± she trails off. Friederika brings me closer to her, and I rest the side of my head on hers, the two of us tightening all the same. ¡°Now that¡¯s something to fuss over! I¡¯m so happy that you think of me as a bestie. Happy enough that it makes me cry!¡± A bestie, huh? The two of us besties¡­ I like the sound of that, Kiki. Let¡¯s be besties for life, Kiki! Play all day and every day, just the two of us! ¡°I think it¡¯s going to take me a little while to get used to that, Vicky,¡± Friederika answers. She must be excited since she can¡¯t stand still without making me dizzy from cradling me. ¡°But I like the sound of that too!¡± Well, being called Vicky is weird, too, you know? I¡¯m used to people not saying my name right, and, like, that one big kid always says it wrong the way that gets me upset the most! She was kinda mean, but I had fun playing with her for a while. ¡°You think you¡¯ll meet her again?¡± Friederika asks, but I can only shrug. Who knows? I mean, I hope I do¡­ even if she was a little mean, she was nice enough to play with me. ¡°Well, forget about that meanie, then!¡± Friederika says, ¡°who needs a big meanie head when you have a new bestie like me?¡± I can¡¯t help but smile. But really, it is getting kinda dark now, Kiki¡­ so we should head back to our parents before they come searching for us. Friederika doesn¡¯t respond, and I try to detach from Friederika¡ªbut her grip never lessens. Kiki? ¡°I don¡¯t want to let go, Vicky,¡± the dark-haired girl says softly, ¡°I don¡¯t wanna let go!¡± Hey, what¡¯s with you? Seriously, I¡¯m not going to disappear on you like those other meanie kids! Friederika, however, buries her face onto my neck. ¡°I wish we could stay together like this, forever¡­ together forever, just like besties,¡± Friederika says, her words struggling to come out. Kiki¡­? Before I get the chance to react, I fumble forward¡ªmy arms swipe at nothing, empty. I frantically look around. Friederika is nowhere to be found. The lovely little playground, the other kids, all the parents and dogs on leashes, the sidewalk and the road, the towering buildings around us¡ªit¡¯s all gone. It¡¯s all been consumed by darkness. Friederika? I shout¡ªshouting? It didn¡¯t occur to me, but I¡¯m not actually talking. I can¡¯t speak. I can¡¯t scream. Before I get to process any further, I fall¡ªfall endlessly into this pitch abyss. I fall forever through so many planes of existence. An overgrown playground, demolished time and again. Time and time again I watch this playground rebuild, and time again demolished into new buildings¡ªuntil even then a flashing ball of light consumes all. An explosion with no sound¡ªbut it leaves me ringing regardless. And then darkness once more. Below me, a golden light stream appears like a blip¡ªrapidly expanding in size the more I free-fall. Golden orbs float past me. I scream, of course, but there is nothing. I thrash, of course, but I have no body to speak of. Accepting my fate, I close my eyes as I plummet through this mystical stream. There is no sound of water¡ªno indications of a splash, only the familiar, eerily silence. ¡ºYou poor, poor thing.¡» It¡¯s a soothing voice nearly omnidirectional. It sounds like that of a young woman; so elegant, yet so genuinely apologetic. Unfamiliar, and yet, a nagging feeling I¡¯ve heard it somewhere before. But where? I open my eyes¡ªand a creeping realization that I¡¯m in a ship corridor¡ªthe Yilan? I frantically pat myself down¡ªa quick grope at my chest here, a slap on my thigh there. A handful of my golden locks for good measure. I glance around to hurried personnel carrying stretches and wounded. Wounded among the walls; sitting, laying down their sides, sheets covering some dead here and there. The occasional doctor heading from one sailor to the next. The light from a ceiling siren lights the passageway. None pay me any attention. My gaze is drawn to a covered body at my feet. My heart beats rapidly¡ªand for some reason, it is the only thing I hear. I kneel next to the body, and with a hesitant hand pull back the heavy covering. I stare at the person for what seems like an eternity. My hands tremble, my chest tightens. I try to avert my attention¡ªbut an invisible force keeps me locked on the body. Her diluted, dark pupils are devoid of life. Short, dark green hair. Her blood-shot eyes rolled back into her head, and her mouth¡ªa dark shade of purple¡ªgaping open. Screaming for help, screaming for somebody to save her. Intense claw marks on her neck, as if struggling for oxygen. Faint tear marks on her pasty skin. I want to look away but I can¡¯t. Water forms in my eyes. I want to cry and scream, but I¡¯m too powerless to do so. The only thing I¡¯m capable of is observing the results of my mistakes. Lying before me is sub-lieutenant Friederika Trachenberg. My best friend, my soul-mate sister. The goofball who gets me in trouble more times than I count. The one person who means the world to me. The only one who understands me and the only one I want to grow old and die with. And I can¡¯t do anything for her. I¡¯ve failed her, just like all the others I¡¯ve let down. I¡¯m young, powerless in rank and authority to do anything. All around me, dead people close in on me. The rotting corpse of Buttermilch, the cool Casavant, the uncaring Mazzareli, the disapproving Margot. I¡¯ve let them all down. Something presses against my back. From behind me comes into view two arms¡ªcovered to their wrists in semi-transparent black, sleeves which are mildly puffy¡ªwhich proceed to wrap around my shoulders. This character behind leans in, hugging me tightly. I can make out the skirting of a black gown, but not much else. I feel another touch¡ªher head¡ªas she rests against the back of my neck. ¡ºYou poor, uneventful child.¡» What is this? What is happening? I want to croak¡ªbut I cannot talk. I cannot convey my sorrow. Nothing wants to come out¡ªand all I can do is shudder uncontrollably. ¡ºWhat a terrible, unbelievable stroke of misfortune.¡» So calm, and yet this voice sounds frustrated¡­ so apologetic. ¡ºBut sweep aside your worries¡ªyour fears. And appreciate what you have, regardless of the grief that others have suffered.¡» I jerk uncontrollably¡ªand in the next moment I¡¯m sitting up straight in a darkly lit room. It¡¯s stuffy as hell. My chest twinges and hurts as my heart races at a rapid beat. Beads of sweat roll down my face and neck. My gaze darts around just as rapidly, and finally, I come to my senses. An uncontrollably loud, obnoxious, overwhelming noise violates my ears¡ªit¡¯s irritating as hell! It¡¯s the most grating thing I¡¯ve ever had to hear. And as I tear myself to see the source of this outrageously gasping, wheezing woman lying next to me. It sounds like a horrible sawing, a bear¡¯s grumbling, a dying cat¡¯s last-ditch effort to fend for itself. But above all¡ªit¡¯s Friederika. The sub-lieutenant Trachenberg. Kiki. It is her, right? Was that merely a dream I was experiencing? Or was it simply a wake-up call to delusions of Friederika being alive? I roll over to her, being careless to mount the peacefully snoring, defenseless Friederika. And with all my might, I grab her by the cheeks and pull and push on them with all my strength. There¡¯s a gasp and then a startled cry¡ªthe startled Friederika mumbles something before shouting at me with teary eyes. ¡°Blimey! Chrwist almighty! What the blwoody hell is wong with you, you dewanged woman!¡± Friederika screams, and I can¡¯t help but giggle. Tears obscure my vision, and I stop abusing her cheeks. Friederika attempts to wiggle herself free from under me, and I move my weight to the side so she can do so. Friederika curses under her breath, rubbing her reddish cheeks. ¡°Seriously, if you don¡¯t like my snoring at all, you know,¡± she shoots me a glare ¡°you could just¡­¡± a pause; then a frown. ¡°I don¡¯t know, be normal? Shake me by the shoulder? Blimey, Vicky¡­ I know you¡¯re upset that there¡¯s¡­ some drool on your uniform¡ªand I¡¯m sorry, okay? I didn¡¯t¡­¡± she trails off, and scoots over to hug me, ¡°oh gosh, Vicky? What¡¯s up? Why ya crying on me?¡± She clears her throat, cradling me in her arms. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. ¡°I¡¯m just so happy,¡± I gasp, ¡°so happy I can hear your stupid, dreadful, irritating snoring in the first place. I¡­ I had a horrible dream, a terrible dream that I was¡­ that made me realize if I was hallucinating you ever since our ship got rammed,¡± Friederika scoffs, and I pull her away after she wipes the tears away. ¡°You are real, right?¡± I choke, trying to force a smirk, ¡°I¡¯m not¡­ I-I''m not simply manifesting you as a form of regret or anything, am I?" Friederika is taken back at first. She wipes my eyes with both thumbs, a scoff. The sub-lieutenant tries to suppress tearful chokes of her own, bringing me closer to her. A stroke of my hair, a grab of my hand that she places on her chest. "You''re too much for me sometimes, Vicky. I don¡¯t know what kind of bad dream you had, but it ain¡¯t true! See, see? I¡¯m the real deal, as authentic as it gets! I think those military hospital dramas you¡¯ve been watching lately have been steeping a little too deep in that noggin of yours, I reckon.¡± A brief sense of relief, groping Friederika like this. Burying myself into her hair. This is real. Why wouldn''t this be real? That dream was just as real, too. But¡­ Friederika¡¯s annoying breath is hot and tickles my sweaty neck. And as much as I squeeze her, Friederika lets out those irritating pained grunts¡ªeach time it¡¯s different. There¡¯s no way I could be imagining this. There¡¯s no need for me to have a panic attack. ¡°Hey, if we stay like this any longer, I¡¯m going to start bawling my eyes out too, and then I won¡¯t stop, you know?¡± Friederika says, breathing heavily and clearing her throat. She pulls away, turning to wipe her eyes. ¡°Blimey¡­ I really can¡¯t keep away for one second without you having a mental breakdown on me, can I?¡± Friederika picks up her coat and her boots, plopping on the bed with grunts, sliding her thick boots on. Friederika continues, ¡°I feel like this is my fault for not being more serious on dragging you to shore leaves with me, Vicky,¡± she tries to avert her gaze at first but it¡¯s not long before we lock eyes, ¡°military dramas or not¡­ you¡¯re being too hard on yourself, Vick,¡± Friederika remarks. I watch with awe as Friederika¡ªwith immense effort¡ªbalances her way through my strategically calculated mess to safety. She twirls around, pointing a finger at me. ¡°I think it¡¯s about time you get some fresh¡­ er, air! ¡± Wiping my eyes one last time with my sleeve¡ªat this point, my uniform is more or less ruined. If we were to have an inspection right here, on the spot, by say, Prince, I¡¯d be screwed. ¡°You¡¯re kidnapping me for that last scheduled shore leave?¡± I muse, getting up and walking casually through the sorted mess. Friederika folds her arms under her breasts, thinking about the question¡ªshe shakes her head. ¡°Oh?¡± ¡°Tsk tsk!¡± Friederika wags a finger ¡°I¡¯m sure you figured out by now what part of my purpose for falling asleep on you was, right?¡± I puff out my chest, sighing all the same. ¡°Well¡­ I¡¯m sure it¡¯s because you wanted to stop me from going to the admiral¡¯s meeting,¡± I say, twirling a lot of hair, ¡°unless¡­ you had some ulterior motives pampering you?¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯ll be honest with that,¡± Friederika laughs, ¡°I didn¡¯t expect to get assaulted in my sleep by a deranged brat!¡± That constitutes a harsh jab. ¡°And who exactly are you calling a bloody brat?¡± I ask, backing her up against the door. Friederika laughs nervously, fumbling to press the panel to open the door. Before I get the chance to move away or even warn Friederika of the impending danger, the door slides open¡ªand I crash atop her. The hallway is bright, and it takes a moment to readjust¡ªbut when I do, a flustered Friederika lies underneath me. ¡°Well, so much for your plan to stall, huh?¡± ¡°I guess it did,¡± Friederika says, her eyes averting mine, I glance up to bemused personnel watching our little spat. ¡°Um¡­ can you get off me now? This is rather embarrassing.¡± ¡°What¡¯s wrong, getting stage fright from a little crowd?¡± I retort. Friederika¡¯s face only gets redder, she bites down on her lip. ¡°What happened to all that confidence you had?¡± ¡° Well¡­¡± Friederika begins. Just then, someone steps forward through the crowd. I pay them no attention at first, but the clearing of the person¡¯s throat and their voice makes my hair stand up straight. ¡°Well¡ªindeed. Do I even want or need to ask why there is such a commotion?¡± It¡¯s an authoritarian, stressed tone all too familiar to my ears. Friederika and I leap to attention faster than I ever could imagine. Our new guest of honor Lieutenant Plotte taps his arm¡ªa vast amount of papers tucked under one of his arms. ¡°First I hear accounts of screaming and rough-housing¡ªand my first instinct was to grab the nearest MP loitering around,¡± a glance behind him, then a sigh, ¡°but for some reason, my instincts were telling me it¡¯s two no-good officers goofing around¡ªand as fate would have it, there was a crackdown in the cafeteria regarding a bunch of alcoholics being far too chummy, anyways,¡± his stern gaze falls upon me, ¡°am I wrong in my assumption? You look like a complete mess. Did you two have an emotional fallout? In that case¡­¡± ¡°Lieutenant Plotte, with all due respect, I think I get the point,¡± I remark, holding one hand up and holding my head up with the other. ¡°First of all, enSIGN Happ-SCH¡­¡± Prince pauses abruptly, blinking several times. The lieutenant clears his throat. Am I imagining things, or has Prince been getting used to this routine of addressing him properly? Dare I say Prince finds it fun? ¡°One of these days, the two of you are going to seriously cause me an aneurysm,¡± oh, maybe I spoke too soon. Prince continues, ¡°ensign Happ, sub-lieutenant Trachenberg, in lack of an MP, I implore that the two of you behave and act like proper officers,¡± his scary stare once again grazes me, ¡°and ensign Happ-Schwarzenberger, that goes for you in particular. As much as the thought pains me, you will soon be a Lieutenant once consultation with the Admiral goes through. In the meantime, please remember that being a Lieutenant means more responsibility. I implore you to keep in mind that means your actions and conduct serves as a role model to junior officers,¡± Prince exhales heavily through his nose, ¡°I have enough on my plate, I do not more cadet officers fall into the belief that it simply acceptable in unchecked fraternization.¡± As hard-ass as always, Prince. Of course, even I know enough not to blurt that out. ¡°Thanks for the lecture, old man,¡± Friederika blurts in my stead, ¡°so that means you¡¯ll let us off the hook, right?¡± This woman, what am I going to do with her? And she has the gall to say I¡¯m gone mad? Glancing at Prince, I can imagine he is thinking the same. I nudge her on the side, and she looks at me with that stupid toothy grin of hers; a wink. ¡°Sub-lieutenant Trachenberg¡­¡± Prince groans, pinching his nose ridge, ¡°you¡¯re really trying your luck here¡­ but given this uncomfortable atmosphere and the piercing glares of this crowd, I¡¯ll concede just this once, and besides,¡± a smirk¡ªbut maybe I¡¯m imagining it, ¡°the two of you have somewhere you need to be right now, right?¡± ¡°The brig?¡± I ask innocently, twirling my bangs. Again, there¡¯s that subtle smirk¡ªbut maybe Friederika is right and I am slowly becoming deranged. ¡°Well, depending on the chaos you¡¯ll commit on the Trinidad, I may very well reserve a place there for the two of you¡ªFried¡ª¡° a click of his tongue, ¡°sub-lieutenant Trachenberg, in particular, can enjoy her shore leave there.¡± Friederika tries to laugh nervously, and she returns the nudge. Firstly, the fact that going to the Trinidad seems to be a foregone conclusion that something will go wrong kind of stings when Prince says it. Secondly, hearing the name Trinidad brings me a sense of relief. I cup my chest, knowing that Alexa and her Vinnie friend are safe and sound¡­ if the Trinidad survived at Rouen¡ªeven assuming there was any combat there, then that might mean they are alive, too. Prince steps out of the way, one arm extended out, ¡°now, if you don¡¯t mind, get out of my sight before I change my mind¡­ and frankly I¡¯m not sure there are any more shuttles left. If you hurry, you might be able to catch the last one to the flagship.¡± ¡°Did Mazzareli already depart for it by now?¡± I ask, ¡°who¡¯s even acting CO now, Prince?¡± ¡°Well, I suppose you¡¯re talking to him right now,¡± Prince says dryly, ¡°enSIGN Happ-SchwarzenBERGER.¡± Friederika and I chuckle nervously. Maybe we are pushing our luck too far? Prince flashes his stack of papers to regain our attention. ¡°Get going now, please, that goes for everyone.¡± With concise salutes, Friederika and I hurry off, and the crowd disperses¡ª But at the last moment, a hand on my sleeve, and I turn to Prince grabbing my attention. ¡°Before you go, uh, hm,¡± Prince pulls me closer to him, and he gets to work patting me off with a handkerchief, as well as fixing my unkempt color. ¡°I wish you¡¯d take far better care of your uniform, Vic,¡± Prince says under his breath. ¡°If I see you off now like this, I¡¯d bloody well never hear the end of it from the Lieutenant Commander.¡± ¡°Prince¡­¡± I mutter, ¡°you¡¯re too kind, I mean¡­ fixing my uniform, sticking your old man neck out for me and Kiki, and¡­ letting me go to the Trinidad, really,¡± a clear of my throat, ¡°it¡¯s making this little maiden a little sentimental.¡± Prince only scoffs and reels me around to a curious Friederika looking back, hands on her hips. ¡°Yeah, you could say that,¡± Prince says, ¡°I think you more than everyone else deserves some rest and recuperation at the Side,¡± a pat on the shoulder, ¡°to be honest, I was against the idea at first of letting you go to the Trinidad. Mazzy knew you would be dead set on wanting to go, the moment you found out.¡± ¡°Mazzy?¡± I scoff. Mazzy? ¡°Don¡¯t pick up any bad habits from me, anyway,¡± a deep breath from Prince, ¡°Just¡­ please don¡¯t do anything that would make me look bad. Don¡¯t do anything that would make me genuinely regret being the last obstacle from you raising bloody hell over superiors. You earned this double promotion and the Victorian Cross, Vic,¡± a firmer grip, ¡°don¡¯t go screwing it up now.¡± ¡°No promises!¡± I say confidently, ¡°a maiden does whatever her heart desires, I believe.¡± Prince sighs in defeat and pats me on the back. ¡°If I hold you back any longer, there probably won¡¯t even be a shuttle left to speak of¡­ so get going, Lieutenant Happ-Schwarzenberger.¡± ¡°But I¡¯m not a¡ªoh,¡± a gentle push as I go into a trot to catch up with Friederika. ¡°What was that all about, huh?¡± Friederika asks, ¡°a last-minute forbidden declaration of love? Oh! Poor Paul! If only he knew that the love of his life was swiped clean under his nose by his older brother!¡± ¡°I think you not only have a bizarre imagination, but a big mouth that needs to be sealed tight,¡± I answer, and the two of us giggle. ¡°No, no, it was nothing of the sort, really. He¡­¡± ¡°I think I get the idea,¡± Friederika interjects, ¡°he was just giving you a lil¡¯ prep talk and fix-up your uniform to cover his bum a little. I mean, you did look pretty roughened up a little.¡± ¡°And just who is the cause of that exactly?¡± I ask, and Friederika smiles at me with that despicable grin of hers. I stop, and Friederika doesn¡¯t take notice until a second later, retracing her steps to stand next to me. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± Friederika asks ¡°you getting last-second cold feet about going? Honestly, I don¡¯t blame you, the sooner we head ashore, the better.¡± I only shake my head in response. I lock eyes with Friederika, intently, and she realizes this and tries to avert her gaze; her cheeks burning red. ¡°I¡¯m just taking in the fact that I have you, Kiki,¡± I answer with a grin, ¡°thank you, really. For, um¡­ everything. For being my friend¡ªno, for being my bestie,¡± a step closer ¡°I couldn¡¯t live with you¡ªI couldn¡¯t imagine not hearing those dreadful ear-shattering snores of those. If I had to go one day, one week, or a month without hearing them, I don¡¯t think I could actually fall asleep at all¡­¡± ¡°Oh stop,¡± Friederika says with a serious tone, ¡°if you go any further, I¡¯ll break down and cry. And then I won¡¯t be able to stop¡ªand then I¡¯ll blow my nose all over your collar.¡± This time, I step forward and wipe the first hints of tears from her ears. ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± I answer, ¡°you deserve a shoulder to cry on too. That¡¯s what besties are for, right? They cry on each other¡¯s shoulders, and they argue, and they put up with each other¡¯s faults¡­¡± ¡°Vicky,¡± Friederika says, her lips trembling as she tries not to sniffle, ¡°do you want me to blast snot all over your collar?¡± I can¡¯t help but smile. I wipe her eyes again, and with one arm help with guiding her down the corridor. ¡°I really do appreciate that, though Vicky,¡± she says after calming down after some time¡ªand then a chuckle. ¡°Hm? What¡¯s so funny?¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s nothing,¡± Friederika says as the two of us glance out to space, ¡°it¡¯s just¡­ you saying besties¡­ blimey, Vicky, I haven¡¯t heard you say that in forever. It¡¯s awfully nostalgic, you know?¡± She turns her head to smile at me. Nostalgic is one way of putting it, yeah. ¡°So¡­ what do you intend to do once we arrive at the Admiral¡¯s ship, anyway? You can¡¯t just, like, whip out a simulation about what they¡¯re doing is good or bad, right?¡± She¡¯s right. As much as I am the Miracle Vick, or Heroine of Toscana, or whatever cringy names these people come up with, I¡¯m still just Victoria Happ-Schwarzenberger. I¡¯m only an Ensign¡ªsoon to be field promoted to Lieutenant. Brenaco is a threat that we should¡¯ve paid more attention to, and yet commodore Chal recklessly abandoned it for his game and glory¡ªcosting us the lives of those like Buttermilch, and so many ships we could¡¯ve used to put pressure on those Brenaco mercenaries or whatever it is they are. There¡¯s no telling just how long the Franks will tolerate our presence here, too, since almost the entirety of the armada is here now. I think our original mission here has long been compromised the moment we set foot in Toscana. ¡°Not the slightest clue,¡± I remark finally. Friederika looks at me with awe and shrugs smiling. ¡°S¡¯ppose there isn¡¯t much we can do except wait and watch¡ªbut so help me mum if you do anything irrational¡­ like sucker punch the Admiral or something.¡± ¡°No promises!¡± I declare. The two of us drown the corridor with laughter. ¡°By the way, did you notice that one Lieutenant who was accompanying Prince?¡± Friederika asks. I shake my head; can¡¯t say I noticed any of them that stood out to me. ¡°Mate, she looked pissed¡­ I think she might be bad news. When she saw Prince talking to you, she was practically biting down on the folder she had in her hands¡­¡± Friederika tilts her head, using what brain cells she has to think, ¡°Poe Kippard? I think that¡¯s what her name is. She sounds like trouble.¡± I only reply with an affirmative hum. Well, not that I¡¯m dismissive of this Poe gal. It sounds kind of concerning but there¡¯s no point in worrying about it at the moment because for now there are greater things to deal with. Anything else that distracts me from focusing on what the Admiral has in plan for the course of action with the Brenaco brigands is trivial. Chapter 95: Embers of Ishtar | Tomorrow鈥檚 Hope, Yesterday鈥檚 Sorrow
THE SHUTTLE TO THE TRINIDAD
Deep breaths. Deep, long breaths. Friederika dozes off on my shoulder¡ªthankfully not rupturing my ears with her snores and in respect, I try my best not to fidget too much. Despite the spaciousness of our shuttle''s passenger compartment, Friederika is more than happy to glue herself to me. And it feels odd because she''d totally be the type to kick off her boots, man spread, and take up several seats¡­ or maybe I''m just projecting? Regardless, Friederika presses herself to me like I''m a well-worn childhood teddy bear that she never quite grew out of. Under normal circumstances, I''d get up and move to another seat or kick her away¡­ I''d be annoyed¡ªand truth be told, right now I''m not. I appreciate it more than anything. Because no matter what I do I can''t shake off the anxiety and Friederika''s indirect support helps. No amount of twiddling my thumbs suffices. No matter how many times I curl my fingers into my wrist cuffs to caress and tug on them, it does nothing: my nerves remain unsettled. After enough rustling, I feel they no longer are recognizable as proper sleeve cuffs. Both are so wrinkly and are so pulled out from underneath the jacket sleeve that I might now more closely resemble a snobbish aristocrat with exaggerated costumes stemming from those antique-themed dramas I sometimes watch with Friederika. A smirk creeps up one and I glance over at the snoozing Friederika. If she were awake now Friederika would chastise me. I can picture it now; karate-chopping me on the forehead as she utters, ¡®poor Prince, he would through the trouble of looking after you and you throw away his kindness!¡¯ And frankly, it does make me a little guilty that I didn¡¯t stop to think about ruining my professional image. Friederika too would know that I¡¯m far too anxious for my good. My chest is tight¡ªas if a rope squeezes me tight¡ªand my empty stomach makes me queasy. It never occurred to me that I haven''t eaten before stepping foot on the shuttle. Maybe it¡¯s for the best? Glancing at the gentle gremlin resting on my shoulder, I imagine she¡¯d complain that even if I eat while this much of a nervous wreck, I¡¯ll hear the resurfacing of that horrible Cadet Puke moniker. Come to think of it, I can¡¯t even remember the last time I even had something to eat. I¡¯ll probably grab a small bite after we reach the Trinidad. Maybe a cup of water, or even tea to wash down the uneasiness. It¡¯s the Trinidad at hand here; it ¡¯s the flagship of the navy. It¡¯s bound to have the best cuisine available regardless of the star zones it traversed. Though, given the rumors I¡¯ve heard from veterans of past campaigns, the Trinidad¡ª and by extension the Ruthenians¡ªtheir selection of drinks notably coffee is worse than even our home back down under. Quite a feat to accomplish but I am not one to object to the cuisine quality of Straya. ¡­it¡¯s no good. Thinking about food when I¡¯m this queasy is a bad idea. And I¡¯d hate to make a mess in lieutenant Baikal¡¯s shuttle. No matter what I preoccupy my thoughts with, it does little to mitigate my growing uneasiness. Maybe Friederika is right; maybe I am getting cold feet? Barging into the general staff without any form of game plan? The only thing that can come out of this is making a mockery out myself¡­ I don¡¯t even know if admiral DeRyck is even aware of my recommendation for the Victorian Cross, or the Lieutenant rank¡ªnot that I don¡¯t care about either, even though everyone else seemingly does. Ah¡­ it¡¯s no good. At this rate, if I dwell anymore on moping I¡¯ll have my anxiety come up and make a mess in here. So left with no other case, I¡¯ll have to reunite with my long-lost companion, Mister SPEIBSACKERL¡ªwhich I believe is a standard-issue among naval shuttles, so it should be in here, right? I carefully place the irresponsible Sub-Lieutenant on the seat railing and slide to my feet as quietly as possible. Turning around, I open the storage hatch and reach into the pitch darkness for the SPEIBSACKERL¡­ And I stop, by chance, I glance out the window just as I grab hold of the plastic sick bag. Less than a few kilometers away is the massive Trinidad. It¡¯s awe-inspiring for sure, and there are dozens of cruisers and shuttles zipping around¡­ but that¡¯s not what catches my attention. It appears as a gray orb at first. But with each passing second, it gets bigger. And the bigger it gets, the more it appears this ship is rapidly approaching us. No, is it a ship? Is it a meteorite? Random wreckage? No, judging from the abominably large nose, that is definitely a shuttle¡ªbut not one I¡¯ve seen before. Is it a new model? Maybe it¡¯s part of the Admiral¡¯s fleet. In any case, it¡¯s zoning straight towards us. Oh, right, yeah, it¡¯s zoning in like a bloodthirsty seagull. No time to register the screaming. My mind races¡ªmy mental gerbils spin so frantically on such short notice that they may as well have launched themselves into the next plane of existence. Just as I throw myself onto Friederika in the vain hope of tossing us to the safety of the floor¡ªmy vision spins rapidly. With so many stars and blurriness, I can barely comprehend the two of us getting thrown about all willy-nilly like within the confinements of the passenger compartment. Numerous contents like papers and items of baggage fly out of the overhead containers which thrash around for what feels like an eternity. Any moment now, I will likely vomit out all my anxiety. It all happens so soon, and just as abrupt as it happens, it ends all so abruptly. Friederika and I crash to the cold, unforgiving floor together¡ªnever once has my hydraulic grip ever left her precious bonehead. Friederika is by now, of course, more than qualified as being fully awake. She cries out like a deranged animal, brushing me aside and scrambling for the pilot¡¯s cockpit. ¡°Miss Yuri! Lieutenant Baikal! What the bloody hell is happening?!¡± Friederika cries. Still dizzy, I can make out Friederika shaking the poor pilot senseless. ¡°Are¡­ are we under attack?! Why aren¡¯t you firing back?!¡± Weakly pulling myself to my feet, I reach over for the now-more-than-desired tan-colored yet crumbled SPEIBSACKERL. ¡°Christ almighty, calm your tits, will ya?¡± Yuri retorts ¡°it¡¯s nothing of the sort. It¡¯s only some amateur pilot who has no idea what the hell they¡¯re doing. It¡¯s been this way ever since the armada dropped by¡­ ¡°It¡¯s been nothing but a war zone so to speak out here¡ªno! Not like that, I mean excessive traffic jams and near close calls like now. There¡¯s no way they¡¯d go out of their way to target some random shuttle so far out¡­ huh? What do you mean who do I mean? Those lousy, good for nothing Brenaco scumbags!¡± After filling up the SPEIBSACKERL, I look up to see brushing the curious Yuri aside to peek into the compartment. ¡°Say, is your girlfriend alright?¡± Yuri asks. Friederika is quiet for a moment before she utters something in protest. ¡°My eardrums were getting shattered from her blood curdling screams the whole time¡­ just like now. Christ, you two¡­ I still don¡¯t know Prince deals with you¡ª¡° ¡°Vicky!¡± Friederika wails, scurrying over and crashing onto me, in the process brushing the SPEIBSACKERL aside. ¡°I¡¯m sorry! I forgot about you in the thick of the moment! You look so beaten up for my sake,¡± Friederika sniffles, stroking my hair. She wipes her nose on my sleeve and helps me up, as wobbly as I still am. Being thrown around like a rag doll did a number on me. Head still throbs a little though. But at least it¡¯s not a concussion unlike that one time¡­ the dreadful memory of that old man with the bulging eyes as his fireship exploded resurfaces, but I shake my head at the thought. ¡°Never mind that,¡± I groan, rubbing my head still. Peering through the window It¡¯s evident that the big-nosed shuttle has stabilized by now and seems to be on a set course for one of Gasson¡¯s Clusters. ¡°You did what you had to do¡ªprioritizing the situation before your mate emptied her contents all over you,¡± Friederika glances at the SPEIBSACKERL, and I¡¯m grateful that I managed in sealing it before Friederika brushed it aside. ¡°Vicky, I didn¡¯t mean to¡­¡± Friederika quips, the curling of her bottom lip as she frowns. I flick Friederika in response¡ªa powerful one that evokes a typical Friederika cry as she falls on her bum rubbing ground zero. Ensuring that I¡¯m stable, I make my way up the aisle for the cockpit. Yuri leans into view¡ªher visor is up, wrinkling of her pretty little brow. ¡°Man, you look like utter shit,¡± Yuri remarks. The temptation to deliver another decisive forehead flick swells within me but for her sake and mine, I exercise great restraint. ¡°Hey, don¡¯t make such a fussy face, it was a joke, kinda,¡± she eyes me down before continuing, ¡°that rough-housing doesn''t look like it¡¯s from the barrel-roll maneuvers I was doing. You sure you¡¯re doing alright?¡± Without even so much as glancing back at the controls, Yuri is more than capable of casually maneuvering our transport into the Trinidad¡¯s beaming runway. ¡°If you want, I can turn this here shuttle around if you¡¯re not feeling up for, uh¡­ whatever it is you¡¯re hoping to accomplish at the Admiral¡¯s ship.¡± Straightening up, I try to answer¡ªbut I can¡¯t utter a word. Is it last-minute hesitation on my part? My mind races but it concludes nothing, I¡¯m hyping this up when it might just be nothing. We¡¯re going to take action against Brenaco¡ªthat much is certain. Is it concern over the possibility of initiating yet more action against the Mafia? No, the Admiral wouldn¡¯t do something so sensible¡­ right? Li¡­ If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. No, in any case, I want to simply know what the decision will be. A deep sigh and straightening up again. ¡°Um¡­ no need to change course, Yuri,¡± I say with a brief salute. Yuri nods, propping her feet on the wheel. ¡°Good, because it¡¯d be too much of a hassle to turn back now,¡± We are eclipsed in abrupt darkness¡ªthen a blinding light. It takes a moment for my vision to adjust as Yuri nonchalantly flips her visor up and continues, ¡°though that said, it does appear to be incredibly slow around the Trinidad¡ªso, you know¡­¡± Yuri glances at me, hands clasped over her stomach. thumbs twiddling, ¡°if you¡¯re still inclined to leave, and I don¡¯t blame you¡­¡± I only shake my head. There¡¯s a series of omnidirectional mechanical whining and then some mild thuds as the shuttle makes its touchdown. ¡°Well, I¡¯d hate for you to waste so much fuel in getting us here, only to head back, er¡­ empty-handed,¡± I say wryly, mustering the strength for a smile. ¡°I may as well make it count¡­ somehow.¡± Yuri only acknowledges with a grunt, waving me off as I exit the cockpit. But then she calls out to me as I pass through the sliding door. ¡°Say¡­¡± Yuri begins, her gaze looking out the window, ¡°if you ever meet the bastard¡­ er, commodore Chal at all, or, well, any of his chief of staff for that matter,¡± Yuri sighs, she glances over at the vacant co-pilot seat, ¡°I know I don¡¯t have the authority at all to say this¡ªand I definitely shouldn¡¯t be encouraging reckless insubordination¡­ but punch his lights out for me, will ya?¡± She says, finishing it off with a scoff. It¡¯s at that moment I realize that back then, Yuri was accompanied by a co-pilot when Friederika and I were tasked with removing a missile dud that struck the Yilan¡¯s port side. It¡¯s been months and the thought never crossed my mind at all until now. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m sorry,¡± I say, slipping off my cap. ¡°Did she¡­?¡± Yuri waves the question without hesitation¡ªher fingers curl as they fall back onto her lap. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think¡ª¡° a quick clearing of her throat, ¡°that asshole couldn¡¯t die even if she played hop-scotch over a couple of landmines,¡± Yuri takes a deep breath as her helmet¡ªthe visor down¡ªrolls to the co-pilot controls. ¡°She volunteered for the mission at Baltit¡ªfirst wave,¡± she continues, ¡°because of some bogus last-minute reorganization, I was transferred to a different division¡ªin other words, I went to Malabo¡ª¡± though it¡¯s subtle, Yuri shakes her head, ¡°Malabo was hell¡­ let me tell you that. So many good boys died on my seats, and all I could do was hope I could make it in time¡­ I wanted to be a savior¡ªnot a deliver of death. I couldn¡¯t even begin to imagine how nightmarish it was over at Baltit. ¡°And after the whole bloody ordeal ended, I tried to find Jamie as quickly as I could. I found out that Jamie¡¯s mates said¡­¡± her voice cracks trailing off. Yuri stops for a moment¡ªa brief hesitation to raise her visor¡ªbut her hand drops to her lap. Another rough clearing of her voice, ¡°Jamie was first listed as ¡®killed in action¡¯¡ªbut I¡­ but I identified the corpse they showed me¡ªit wasn¡¯t her. So they changed it to ¡®missing in action¡¯¡­¡± ¡°You don¡¯t have to¡­ if you don¡¯t want to, I¡¯m sorry¡­ I shouldn¡¯t have said anything,¡± I whisper, but Yuri seemingly ignores me. ¡°They told me Jamie¡¯s shuttle was shred to pieces¡ªresembled those dirty Frankish swiss cheese than anything they said,¡± Yuri continues, ¡°knowing that asshole, she probably had some noble idea of getting the Star for Gallantry or even that bloody Victorian Cross, either way¡­¡± Yuri repositions her head to look out the cockpits, ¡°missing in action, killed in action, prisoner of war¡­ with that goddamn Scarface, it¡¯s all the same for her. Jamie may as well get her commemoration posthumously¡­ the thought that I have to approach her family myself¡­ is haunting.¡± ¡°Lieutenant Baikal?¡± I whisper, clutching my chest. I¡¯m at a loss for words¡­ if Buttermilch and I could¡¯ve prevented the splitting of the fleet¡­ would this still have happened? Yuri cuts me off, ¡°these past three months have been taking their toll on me. The only thing keeping me going is knowing the possibility that she may be alive¡­¡± again, Yuri brings her hand to her visor. And again, she balls her trembling hand and pounds it on her thigh, ¡°frankly, I can¡¯t even remember the last time I ate or forced myself to do a body shower. All I can think about is Jamie and all the others we left behind,¡± Yuri lets out a few short gasps before recomposing herself, ¡°I want to believe she¡¯s safe and sound out there somewhere. But most of all, I want to believe a shred of humanity in that bastard Scarface. ¡°Why, if I could go back and clock her lights out myself by god I¡¯d do it. By god, I¡¯ll drag Jamie back here myself¡ªand I¡¯ll head butt her for trying to act so high and mighty¡­ but most of all, I want everyone else to come back, too¡­ it¡¯s no secret we¡¯re essentially abandoning our comrades in Malabo and Baltit. Fuck those Brenaco guys,¡± Yuri shifts to face me¡ªthe ghastly expression of a blonde expression shines back at me, ¡°I know you can¡¯t do much¡­ but, please¡ªjust give that bastard Chal and all the others a piece of my mind¡ªa piece of the fleet¡¯s mind,¡± Yuri says. There¡¯s a brief pause as Yuri rests in her chair and turns her attention to the window, ¡°I think I¡¯ve had my say of things, little Ensign. I shouldn¡¯t have kept you hostage for so long.¡± Without another word, I give a salute, and proceed with an about-face out the cockpit¡ªbut like before, I find myself compelled to stop. I clutch my garrison cap tightly, leaning against the wall next to the door is a melancholic Friederika. Our eyes meet briefly¡ªFriederika glances past me into the cockpit. I can¡¯t bring myself to let Yuri suffer alone like that. I can¡¯t simply walk away from someone I inadvertently caused pain among two people¡ªand the many left behind during the evacuation from Toscana. I give Friederika a nod, and head back into the cockpit, standing next to Yuri¡¯s seat. The Lieutenant pilot is slow to realize my presence, ¡°er, Happ? Did you still need¡ª¡° I flip her visor, revealing her shocked expression¡ªwet cheeks, and ruined eye makeup¡ªand with no further hesitation, clasp the helmet and slide it off. ¡°W-what¡¯s this about, Ensign?¡± Yuri asks, her voice quivering, her eyes darting me and to the doorway, ¡°what¡ª¡° I pull her to her feet and it¡¯s at that point Yuri chokes on her words. I throw my arms around her, clutching the Lieutenant and stroking her flowing hair now unrestrained from its tight, oversized helmet. ¡°It¡¯s all going to be okay,¡± I whisper ¡°you shouldn¡¯t have to suffer alone¡ªI don¡¯t want you to mourn alone in misery, Lieutenant,¡± cradling Yuri as I continue speaking softly, ¡°what happened in Toscana is regrettable¡ªbut that just means that as the survivors, we should find the strength to rely on our friends for times like these. And even though part of the responsibility for the disaster lies with me,¡± clearing my stuffy throat before I continue, ¡°so as someone who feels guilt over what she couldn¡¯t do¡­ all I can do now¡ªbesides beating the shit out of the irresponsible officers¡ªis bring you some comfort. I want to believe, too, that Jamie is out there somewhere still¡­ there¡¯s nothing wrong with believing in hope, right?¡± I finish softly. Yuri tries to mutter something¡ªbut all she can do is squirm around, her skin sticky to the touch. Yuri shakes violently for a moment before cutting loose a long, distressed sigh. She tries to mutter something¡ªbut only a gasp and tears come out. Her body gets heavier as she struggles to stand¡ªusing me as a shoulder to cry on. I don¡¯t know what Li may have done for those prisoners. I may never know if my words from that day could have swayed her in any capacity¡­ but I can only hope that she may have influenced their livelihood. After all, Li, you said so yourself that we are no longer enemies, right? She wouldn¡¯t do something so heartless after our heartfelt conversation, right, Li? That¡¯s even assuming Li won her battle at Rouen¡ªand whatever became of her after her failed coup at the Mafia capital. As my mind wonders, Friederika comes in and latches onto Yuri from behind. Yuri sniffles, her tears leaving stains on my face as she musters the strength to say something, but Friederika cuts off the opportunity. ¡°Vicky¡¯s right,¡± she says, trying to stay composed, ¡°even if your buddy is gone¡­ you still have others to rely on. That¡¯s what friends are for, right?¡± ¡°You kids,¡± she gasps, trying to wiggle her shoulder to wipe tears away, ¡°you kids are too much you know?¡± Yuri¡¯s strength is all but gone, and she is now more or less held up by us two. ¡°You two¡­ you two are so lucky to have each other,¡± Yuri croaks, and I wipe some of her dark-stained tears away, ¡°if I ever see Jamie again¡­ I don¡¯t want to believe she¡¯s gone. I¡¯ll tell her how I really feel¡ªI¡¯ve always felt envious of your bond,¡± Friederika can¡¯t help but let out a snuffling chuckle. Friederika squeezes my arms tightly so much that it hurts with her gorilla gremlin strength. There¡¯s a moment of silence between us, but Yuri speaks up again, ¡°your support means a lot to me¡ªit really does. But¡­ shouldn¡¯t you guys be heading off now? I¡¯d feel even more guilty if you guys missed your important meeting because of me.¡± ¡°No¡­ I don¡¯t think that¡¯ll be necessary, at least for a little while,¡± I reply, meeting brief eye contact with a peeking Friederika, ¡°if that¡¯s alright with you. I¡¯ve been bloody anxious about it¡­ so this is sort of soothing in its own right.¡± Friederika nods; an affirmative grunt. Yuri tearfully scoffs and strokes my bangs. ¡°I guess we¡¯re all nervous wrecks some way or another," Yuri remarks, returning the favor by squeezing me back. ¡°But at least before you go, I can tidy up that pathetic excuse of a uniform, so you look spiffy in front of all the officers.¡± The three of us chuckle, taking in the precious moment we have together. And it¡¯s in this small window of fondness that all my anxiety and fears simply wash away. Chapter 96: Embers of Ishtar | The Little Legionnaire ¡°I had no idea the Trinidad was this huge!¡± I tell Friederika. We make our way into one of the corridors leading from the huge¡ªyet true to Yuri¡¯s words¡ªempty transport bay, helping ourselves to an active floor conveyor. Despite being the flagship of the navy and the cream of the top in terms of battleship aesthetics¡­ it¡¯s a rather lonely presence here. Neither Friederika nor I see a small crowd as we make our way through the massive labyrinth that is the Trinidad. We do, however, see some technical personnel here and there¡ªnot so much as commissioned officers. A skeleton crew, perhaps? The Trinidad represents the cutting-edge in Metropolitan design¡ªcould it be automation, and thus less manpower needed to crew the ship? Could be possible, might be that the Admiral has been lax with letting the majority of the ship personnel go ashore. Glancing out the windows, I continue, ¡°even the size of these hallways are absurd,¡± I remark ¡°you could have a whole battalion march through here without an iffy.¡± Well, it¡¯s a slight exaggeration¡ªbut there¡¯s enough space and a high ceiling means it could be feasible enough that even a small elephant could trample through it with leisure! Friederika acknowledges with a nod, ¡°right? But you know what¡¯s the real kicker? Even as huge as it is, our supply ships are, like, double the size of battleships like the Trinidad.¡± ¡°You¡¯re kidding?¡± I muse, folding arms under my breasts, ¡°supply auxiliaries that are bigger than their combat counterparts?¡± They taught us in the academy that supply ships were big, but never that big. Come to think of it, I never did see one of our own up close and personal. Only in the simulations, and they¡¯re roughly the same size polygonal-wise in those. ¡°Yeah, something like that,¡± Friederika answers, ¡°dunno the exact specifics meself of course, but since they¡¯re not intended to house occupants these supply ships are cheaper and easier to construct since they¡¯re basically just, uh,¡± Friederika taps her lip, frowning, ¡°there was an engineer I talked to¡­¡± ¡°Wow,¡± I say, with forced enthusiasm, ¡°I¡¯m surprised¡ªimpressed, rather, by the fact you didn¡¯t hear this second hand.¡± Friederika is mildly annoyed and pinches me on the side. Deserved, I guess. ¡°Anyhow, do go on, love.¡± ¡°Right,¡± Friederika says, ¡°as I was saying¡ªtheir costs are usually kept low by, er¡­ cutting corners with the chassis and some components. The guy explained that they¡¯re basically just enormous warehouses,¡± Friederika raises her outstretched hands wide apart, ¡°like, real big¡ªhe said that these ships are, like, one percent cockpit and housed compartment, one percent engine, and the rest is just storage area. They¡¯re usually the least crewed, too. Even less than a destroyer¡¯s usual amount, I guess.¡± There¡¯s one point that irks me, so I speak up. ¡°I¡¯m guessing they don¡¯t pack much of a punch, then huh? You know, armaments and whatnot,¡± Friederika ponders the question but only shrugs. ¡°Maybe¡­¡± Friederika muses, ¡°I mean, they¡¯re just logistics at the end¡­ I wager they¡¯re nothing more than just a really oversized shuttle, at least defense-wise. If I were a commander of the fleet, I¡¯d probably want them as far away from a battle as possible.¡± If there is one single solid thing that our lovely Commodore did right was not send any of our support divisions along with us¡ªthings could¡¯ve been a much bigger disaster if we limped back to the Frankish Domains without supplies to keep us sustained¡­ it could¡¯ve snowballed into something so much worse. It¡¯s only a miracle that Li didn¡¯t pursue us into the Frankish Domains in the hopes of capitalizing on her victory. I can only wonder if she hadn¡¯t sought me out, would she have done so? Being mindful of her situation at Rouen, though, I doubt it. Maybe one day¡ªif that ever comes to pass, I¡¯d love to hear her thoughts on that dreadful August day. ¡°And if I was your enemy commander, I would probably get as far away as you as possible, and destroy your supply line instead.¡± Friederika taps her arms, and remarks a little too confidently, ¡°worked out for you in all those simulation tournaments we had, didn¡¯t it?¡± Resisting the urge to smack her, I yield with a shrug. ¡°What can I say?¡± I say ¡°it¡¯s a tactic that works when it works¡ªthe saplings like me are powerless against the strong, but I can sure as hell beat less talented cadets,¡± I pump out my chest, ¡°and that¡¯s the thought that counts! It¡¯s a dog-eat-dog world out there, after all. It¡¯s still a more honorable tactic than spawn-camping reinforcement points.¡± Friederika gives me the stink eye; arms folded like she has a point to make. ¡°Oh stuff it,¡± Friederika says, rolling her eyes, ¡°I¡¯ve never done such a thing!¡± Ah, there it is, caught her in the act of lying. ¡°Oh?¡± I sneer, ¡°you seem to have a poor recollection of what happened during the simulation war game we did for Lucky Alphonse!¡± For some reason, recounting that ill-fated demonstration makes my heart sink¡ªand what joining the Admiral¡¯s fleet may entail. But I quickly brush the thought aside. ¡°Well, wait¡­¡± Friederika says, throwing her hands up, ¡°no, I can explain, your honor, it was simply to encircle your fleet!¡± A sly smirk, as if I didn¡¯t see it, ¡°really! Don¡¯t be giving me the stink eye! Would I lie? Would I be a hypocrite?¡± ¡°Yes, and yes,¡± I nod, slapping her on the cuffs, ¡°guilty as charged, twelve years to hard labor in the Zonal asteroid gulags.¡± ¡°Anything but that!¡± Friederika groans. The Sub-Lieutenant¡¯s shoulders shag; a well-conceived crocodile tear that she pretends to wipe. ¡°This is a kangaroo court, an unjust tribune! I¡¯ve been framed!¡± ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± I answer in a deeper tone, ¡°tell it your chain buddies¡ªin the astral mines!¡± The two of us share a giggle and pass the time waiting for the conveyor to take us to our location. Before long I continue again, ¡°y¡¯know, all this talk about giant vessels and I¡¯ve been left wondering; since the Trinidad is so huge inside and out, do you think the cabins are any bigger? I mean, ours are claustrophobic as is¡ªand even Buttermilch¡¯s office is hardly the size of a master bedroom,¡± I glance around before continuing, ¡°I can only imagine they have it good here¡ªlodging, I mean. Just enough freedom to stretch your legs and whatnot. Maybe a little exercising, so you wouldn¡¯t have to stroll to your level¡¯s overcrowded gymnasium¡­¡± ¡°Never mind that,¡± Friederika says, ¡°is their canteen huge? If they have more capacity, that must mean they should have loads of food, right?¡± With a sense of disbelief, I give Friederika a disapproving look. Friederika practically drools with sparkles in her eyes. ¡°Is that the only thing you ever think about, food?¡± I quip, ¡°I had no idea you would think about anything other than boys.¡± Maybe a little too hard on the insult, I wonder? I immediately regret it before Friederika locks me in the eyes. ¡°No, I think about you a lot,¡± Friederika says absentmindedly. It takes both of us to register what she blurts out, and we take a step away from each other¡ªmy cheeks burn a little too hot for my liking. A little too out there, aren¡¯t we, Kiki? Friederika loudly clears her throat, taking a step back to me. ¡°Well! Anyway, I¡¯m sure if that good-for-nothing Alexandra was around right about now, she¡¯d be more than happy to give you a tour of the Trinidad and her room, if you¡¯re so inclined!¡± Speaking of that good-for-nothing, full-of-herself-seagull, I haven¡¯t heard from her since we set foot here. Blimey, I¡¯m surprised she didn¡¯t even book it for my ship the moment our fleets joined together. Looking back at Friederika, I¡¯m left wondering; did she ditch me and head to shore? Is she at the staff meeting? A deeper thought lingers as I stare intently into Friederika¡¯s eyes¡ªdid Alexandra, by chance, die? No, Alexandra is not the kind of good-for-nothing brat to die so easily. And besides¡ªthe Trinidad is still here and operational. Surely Alexa hasn¡¯t been feeling adventitious leading marine charges at pirate havens? ¡°Hey¡­ could you not stare so intently?¡± Friederika¡¯s voice brings me back to reality. I break off eye contact with a tomato-faced Friederika. ¡°You don¡¯t have to overthink what I said, about, uh¡­ thinking of you that much, you know?¡± ¡°Unlucky you,¡± I respond wryly, ¡°I was lost in thought thinking about another person¡ªin this case wondering just where that red-headed hooligan is. ¡°Hah!¡± Friederika smiles meekly, ¡°jokes on you! I was only joking when I said I was thinking about you specifically¡ªI was merely plotting on ways I can torment you!¡± Friederika uncharacteristically lets out a sigh after she finishes. Did I hurt her little feelings perhaps? What a little baby¡ªbut, I guess I am being a little harsh playing with her. ¡°Being serious for a second,¡± Friederika continues, ¡°it would be nice if we had a guide right about now.¡± ¡°Say what now?¡± ¡°Well, in case you haven¡¯t noticed¡ªbecause you¡¯re so fixated on looking at a gorgeous babe like this¡ª¡° Friederika points to the windows, towards ships that have seemingly been there forever, ¡°I think we¡¯re gone in circles a bit, mate. Or rather, I think we¡¯re a little lost, don¡¯t you think?¡± Oh. Maybe I have been ignoring our surroundings for Friederika more than I¡¯ll admit. I¡¯ll give Friederika props for this, just this once. ¡°You might be onto something,¡± I say, pinching my nose bridge, ¡°you know, all this time I can only hope the Admiral¡¯s staff meeting isn¡¯t long over by now.¡± ¡°If that were the case we¡¯d probably see a load of people rushing through these hallways by now,¡± Friederika answers, a short pause as she tilts her head with a thoughtful expression, which I had no idea Friederika is capable of doing, ¡°probably. Since, you know, this battleship is bloody huge. ¡± ¡°And neither of us had the smart idea to simply ask any passing personnel for directions,¡± I say, heaving my shoulders and letting out a frustrated sigh. Just as the two of us step off the conveyor, we spot a soldier in a brown tiger-striped uniform pass by us, absentmindedly. The soldier is a woman¡ªlikely no older than Friederika and I. She has big, beautiful purple eyes and short, poofy red hair that I find is something long out of style. Slung over her shoulder is a small, ocean-blue knapsack closed tightly. At first, the distinct uniform means nothing to me but my mental gerbils, having made their way back from the nether planes of existence are quick to double-time in their wheels for me to recognize it as none other than a Frankish Legionnaire. I¡¯ve never interacted with a Legionnaire firsthand¡ªdespite the Yilan having a handy amount of them. But they seem to be the sort of folk that kept to themselves¡ªand as such, I never saw them too much outside of their infantry quarters. From what I remember, our Legionnaires were transferred to Side Malabo because of mounting losses. The stuff I¡¯ve heard of Legionnaires is not one to be taken lightly. In the military records and history books I¡¯ve read in the last couple of years, they¡¯re a branch in the Federation armed forces that have been disbanded, reformed, and reorganized countless times because of their stained records. From the people I have worked with, Legionnaires are ruthless in the field¡ªthey¡¯re composed of the worst scum the galaxy has to offer. They¡¯re monsters; cold-blooded battle addicts forsaken by the very government they fight for. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. And yet, before me, is a pretty young lady who doesn¡¯t look like she could hurt a fly. She looks pretty out of it¡ªnot something I¡¯d say drives her to kill for the sake of bloodlust. She barely looks capable of wearing full gear and a loaded rifle, much less a bayonet! The Legionnaire spots us, and Friederika and I hop off¡ªlanding stiffly and standing straight. The two of us clack our boots together and give utmost professional salutes. Frail little babe or not, she¡¯s a Legionnaire in the end¡ªand I imagine Friederika doesn¡¯t want to leave a bad impression either. The Legionnaire, on the other hand, doesn¡¯t react at first¡ªbut she gasps¡ªand with a drop of her knapsack returns the salute. ¡°Madams!¡± The Legionnaire utters, she nearly smacks herself and sends her red beret flying¡ªwhich lands at our feet. ¡°O-oh!¡­¡± she gasps again. She breaks the salute and kneels to grab it, but being quick I get to it first and hand it to her¡ªher eyes widen with surprise, mouth gaping wide open. ¡°Hey, hey,¡± I begin, getting to my feet and putting the hard leather beret neatly on her poofy hair, ¡°we didn¡¯t mean to startle ya, love,¡± I to let her snatch her bag up which she hugs to her chest. As such, it¡¯s difficult to make out her name or rank. ¡°Ensign Happ-Schwarzenberger¡ªer, I guess you can address me as Lieutenant,¡± I glance at Friederika, ¡°and that¡¯s my good, weird but reliable mate Sub-Lieutenant Trachenberg¡ªyou can just call me Victoria and her Friederika.¡± ¡°Friederika¡ªnot Fred-uh-Kuh,¡± Friederika retorts, stepping forward, ¡°if that¡¯s too difficult to pronounce, you can say Kiki though.¡± Friederika beams a smile, ¡°we don¡¯t bite¡ªI only nibble,¡± I scoff, elbowing her on the side, ¡°Victoria is not a good sport though, I¡¯ll give you that.¡± ¡°Um¡ª¡° the Legionnaire shifts the knapsack in her arms, ¡°it¡¯s¡­ uh, Bernie¡ªYamazaki, second lieutenant Bernie Yamazaki!¡± Bernie smiles meekly; her shoulders sag from seemingly being stiff like us. That¡¯s the spirit. ¡°Were¡­ were you guys heading somewhere? I couldn¡¯t help but notice you two sometimes passing by bickering about stuff, um¡­¡± Bernie¡¯s Francien accent catches me off guard. I¡¯m accustomed to interacting with Frankish personnel sometimes¡ªbut hers is relatively¡­ quite the opposite of what I would call thick. It¡¯s easy to understand if a little squeaky. Not quite Australian Anglish, but not quite Frankish either. It¡¯s somewhere in the middle out there in terms of accents. ¡°Glad you asked¡ª¡®cus you¡¯re the chaperon we need right about now¡­ oh! We weren¡¯t bickering, by the way, it¡¯s more like¡­¡± ¡°Banter?¡± Friederika interjects thoughtfully. Yeah, something like that I suppose. Bernie looks at her puzzled, but gives a nod as if she understands¡­ but I don¡¯t expect her or anything else to understand our antics with each other. I wonder if outsiders see our exchanges as unhealthy? Even Prince thought we were having a spat, and that makes me scoff at the reminder. ¡°Well, getting back on point,¡± I add ¡°we¡¯re stopping by for a bit, and¡­ and we are a little lost if it¡¯s not obvious enough,¡± I peek a smile, ¡°we heard that Admiral DeRyck was convening with his general staff right about now. You wouldn¡¯t happen to know where this ship¡¯s tactical command center would be, right? Or where the chief council is being held?¡± A brief pause, ¡°you¡¯re a Second Lieutenant, right? You wouldn¡¯t happen to be heading there mate?¡± Bernie is quick to acknowledge by shaking her head. ¡°No, no, um¡­¡± she hugs the knapsack tightly, her eyes averting to the windows, ¡°I¡¯m coming from my living quarters to head off for shore for a bit. I¡¯ve been looking forward to it for a long time, and¡­ I don¡¯t want to miss the opportunity. My superiors say that there¡¯s a chance we may participate in the upcoming operation, but our involvement is still up in the air,¡± Bernie says ¡°I haven¡¯t seen my mom and dad for a good year or two¡­ I don¡¯t want to regret it in case I do get shipped out¡ªand that could happen any moment now.¡± ¡°Ah, that¡¯s all fair then,¡± I remark, ¡°I won¡¯t force you to tag along and show us where it is¡­ but can you spare the moment to give us directions before I let you carry on?¡± Bernie gives a nod, and points behind us from which we came. ¡°This is level F-One,¡± Bernie states ¡°you¡¯re looking for level C-Ten.¡± For some inexplicable reason, I stagger to the side. I had no bloody idea that we were so comically off-course! Could this battleship be any unreasonably bigger? Bernie can¡¯t help but giggle at my realization. ¡°It¡¯ll be hard to miss there,¡± Bernie continues, ¡°that block-level is faint red, but I think that the exterior of the tactical headquarters is black.¡± ¡°Oh blimey¡­¡± I groan. Slapping the side of my head, I smile meagerly, ¡°anyway, thanks big ears! If we hadn¡¯t stumbled upon you I think we¡¯d miss the whole charade. Carry on then, don¡¯t let us hold you back any further. Maybe if we¡¯re lucky, we can meet again when you¡¯re not in a rush.¡± Friederika and I are about to hop back on the conveyor, but something seems to weigh on my friend¡¯s mind, and she takes a step back toward Bernie. ¡°Say, I¡¯m surprised you didn¡¯t think to talk about a certain friend of yours,¡± Friederika says to me. Before I get the chance to ask what she means, Friederika turns to call after the young Legionnaire, who is needless to say startled. ¡°Hey! Real quick¡ªbefore we really let you off the hook! My lovely friend here has been curious if you know the location of a certain individual¡­¡± Friederika brushes both hands through her hair, from the back ¡°she has long, red, sexy hair¡­¡± oh, brother¡ªI want to yank on Friederika¡¯s collar, but an invisible force prevents me from doing so. Friederika then positions her hand, at a flat angle, above her head as she continues, ¡°she¡¯s about this tall¡­¡± next, she does wide, circular gestures in front of her chest, ¡°she has great lovely assets, too!¡± I slap my face but I can¡¯t bear to look away from this walking disaster. I seriously have no idea what I¡¯m going to do with this wench sometimes. Friederika, luckily, stops embarrassing herself for a moment to glance back at me¡ªshe looks puzzled as if trying to use her last brain cells on what further point she wants to make¡ªand to my misfortunate surprise, she seems struck by eureka. ¡°Oh! That¡¯s right, the most defining feature!¡± Friederika exclaims, she points to her face, ¡°she has a horrible, horrible case of freckles!¡± Oh, blimey, this chaotic woman. A heavenly sigh. I look at Bernie to see her reaction to all of this. The Legionnaire seems bemused at first¡ªbut before long she is shaking, and soon enough bursts with laughter. ¡°What kind of description is that?!¡± Bernie nearly cries from laughter, wiping her tears away with her rolled-up sleeves. Friederika doesn¡¯t look the least offended¡ªI¡¯d say she looks proud. ¡°Kiki, was it? You¡¯re something of an oddball, I¡¯ll say that much,¡± Bernie says, a heartfelt smile across her face. A strange feeling tugs at my consciousness. It¡¯s like a mix of annoyance and jealousy as if it is an allergic reaction to someone other than me calling Friederika by her shortened nickname. But it¡¯s a vexing stimulation that I brush off without further thought¡ªI don¡¯t want to dwell on a trivial matter too much. Bernie shifts the knapsack around in her arms before continuing, ¡°freckles, flowing red hair, huh,¡± Bernie muses. She glances at the windows with perplexity, and I can¡¯t help but think it¡¯s a slight stretch for someone as shy as her to be familiar with Alexandra at all¡ªthis ship is huge¡ª it probably has a crew that¡¯s a few hundred strong, maybe twice as much that. It makes me doubt that even after a year of campaigning, Bernie would not have crossed paths with the likes of Alexandra, and yet, still¡­ a bit of me hopes she does. It¡¯s not that unfeasible for Bernie to interact or know of some lowly staff officer, right? ¡°Freckles, freckles¡­¡± Bernie continues to muse. But struck by surprise, Bernie¡¯s eyes widen, and she smiles again. ¡°I think I have an idea of who you mean. Lieutenant¡­ I think, Descartes-Dolz, yes?¡± Restraining myself from running up to Bernie and grabbing her by the collar, I¡ªand interestingly Friederika¡ªare quick to respond with nods. ¡°Right, um¡­ I think she went to shore at the very first opportunity,¡± Bernie blinks several times before continuing, ¡°I think¡­ I would even say you may have just missed her.¡± Lightheaded, and not realizing my breath has been bated this whole time, I cut loose a frustrated sigh. I rub the side of my temple and glance at Friederika, who shrugs as well. ¡°Sorry, was that, er¡­ not to your expectations?¡± Bernie asks, worry in her tone. ¡°You would expect someone like her to be at that high-officer meeting right now, I¡¯m sorry. Why she wouldn¡¯t head there instead is beyond me.¡± ¡°Well, that much is true,¡± I remark, ¡°but¡­ I¡¯m just relieved that the walking, oversized seagull is alive and well.¡± ¡°Sea¡­gull?¡± Bernie tilts her head, pronouncing it slowly with a look of bafflement. I wave it off with a small chuckle. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what you mean by that¡­¡± ¡°Oh, believe me,¡± I answer, ¡°if you heard that bloody broad laugh for even a second, you¡¯d understand the outrageousness of it.¡± Bernie looks at me like I¡¯m an asylum patient, but sighs with a smile that says I still don¡¯t understand, but I¡¯ll pretend I do. ¡°Listen, um¡­ in the exceptionally rare off-chance that you come across lieutenant Descartes, tell her a certain funny-accented blonde was on the prowl on her ship. And if everything goes well, tackling her will be the first thing I¡¯ll do.¡± Even Friederika steals a glance at me and wonders if I¡¯m going crazy. ¡°Will do,¡± Bernie says, carefully extending an arm from her knapsack¡ªblimey, just how heavy is that thing?!¡ªthe tiny Legionnaire gives us a perfect salute. ¡°I¡¯m glad I could be of help to you two,¡± she says cheerfully. Bernie then does an about-face and heads off again. Likewise, Friederika and I wave her off and go about heading for the long-awaited journey to sector C¡ªand hopefully not without getting lost this time. And yet, a slight infection spurred by Friederika¡¯s silliness compels me to spin around and call out to the departing Legionnaire. ¡°Hey! Curious, mate, if you don¡¯t mind me asking, what Side are you going heading off to? Friederika and I would love a tour guide so we don¡¯t wander off into some bad part of town or go missing in a wooded area.¡± And if I¡¯m lucky, I might be able to stumble across Alexandra if it happens to be the closet Side, but I refrain from including that tidbit¡ªFriederika might get a little jealous after all. Bernie taps her lower lip and smiles. ¡°Side Terrassa, it¡¯s a nice place. I think you¡¯ll like it,¡± and as if telepathic, the tiny Legionnaire answers my question, ¡°I think that freckled seagull you mentioned will be there, too. My folks used to say it¡¯s always been a popular attraction for active-duty personnel back in the day,¡± Bernie smiles, but it fades¡ªher gaze falls to the floor and she mumbles something that I¡¯m unable to make out. But it¡¯s only for a second, and she seems cheery again. ¡°So long! Um¡­ try not to be too long, okay? I hear there¡¯s a saying not to keep a girl waiting for too long.¡± ¡°I can¡¯t promise anything,¡± I say confidently, patting my chest with a smile, ¡°I¡¯ll see you when I see you, love.¡± And with that, the three of us part ways for good this time. ¡°You know, I hear Legionnaires get a lot of bad rep and all. But that, that was something else,¡± Friederika says, ¡°in more ways than one¡ªlike, she¡¯s awfully petite for a Legionnaire, isn¡¯t she? She¡¯s practically a shrimp!¡± Well, that¡¯s one observation I won¡¯t deny. Bernie¡¯s uniform is not fit for her size¡ªand I can¡¯t help but find myself baffled that someone like her could be inducted into a formidable force like the Frankish Legionnaires. I¡¯m not exactly the strongest gal either, but I imagine I could still pick her up no issue even if she wore full combat gear. When I think about Bernie like that, it¡¯s kind of endearing, actually. But, well, I would say I¡¯m in no capacity to make such a remark, though, or Friederika for that matter. Now if we were both beautiful, buff men then that would be different. Though, the idea of a beefy male Friederika plagues my thoughts for a second too long, which leads me to perish the disturbing image. ¡°Just comes to show that not every Legionnaire is a murderous psychopath.¡± ¡°Well, I don''t know about that¡ªoh,¡± Friederika freezes and glances behind us, ¡°say, shouldn¡¯t we tell her, er¡­ about getting a ride to Terrassa?¡± Oh, the thought never even crossed my mind. ¡°You could''ve had her seek out Yuri or something. I¡¯m sure she would appreciate some company.¡± ¡°Ah¡ªhuh,¡± I begin, ¡°you know, considering there were barely any pilots loitering around, yeah, she might have some trouble even finding someone to snag a trip with. But heading back now might defeat the purpose of coming here, innit? Even if we went searching for Yuri, I think she¡¯ll get awfully mad at us, right?¡± Friederika opens her mouth to retort, but she frowns and dwells on the question some more. Is she trying to think of excuses for me to miss the conference meeting, after all? No¡ªI¡¯m sure she wouldn''t try to sabotage me like that. I think Friederika is genuinely concerned about Bernie missing a flight to Terrassa. Friederika breathes heavily through her nose, ¡°well¡­ if you say so. It¡¯s not like she would blame us for going back, either. Don¡¯t want to get her a tempter or anything, you know?¡± A slight chuckle before she continues, ¡°say¡ªsince there aren¡¯t any military police around, you think we should break into a jog?¡± ¡°A suggestion for a jog?¡± I utter in surprise, ¡°from you of all people? Are you sure you can even catch up?¡± Friederika is annoyed judging from her scowl, and with good reason too. ¡°Don¡¯t underestimate me! I can keep up with you if it¡¯s an extended jog¡ª¡° Friederika scoffs, ¡°well, probably. In any case, I¡¯ll just become a casualty of war if I can¡¯t¡ªhey!¡± Without breaking a sweat, I accept Friederika¡¯s proposal and race down the endless hallways for sector C. And to my pleasant surprise, Friederika is capable of maintaining the beat fairly well. Chapter 97: Embers of Ishtar | Prelude to Entebbe, and Matter of Justice C-seven, C-eight, C-nine. After a hearty non-stop jog, we are lucky to see some living souls that aren¡¯t just regular sailors¡ªindividual groups of low and mid-ranked staff officers come into view. Slowing down a little to avoid any middle-aged sap from scolding us, I spot golden text with fancy font reading C-Ten. And thus, true to Bernie¡¯s words, the bright red walls give way to a depressing block laced with golden stripes down the middle. There is a larger crowd here¡ªmost of them standing in front of two MPs posted on either side of the large, bronze-like door. Friederika and I slowly worm our way through the crowd and present ourselves before the senior MPs¡¯, saluting them with Sirs¡¯. The one I face, a large-jawed fellow with pasty skin, a saturated peach-fuzz contrasting his skin tone, and deep eye-bags that are indeed awfully heavy. Interesting, his eyes aren¡¯t bloodshot-red, but maybe I¡¯ve been reading too much of Buttermilch¡¯s literature to expect an obvious clich¨¦. From his name tag, it reads HOBSAND, and his emerald eyes dart between me and Friederika. ¡°Sorry, chaps, I was wondering if it¡¯s not too late for some certain guests of honor to attend the conference that¡¯s happening behind your door?¡± I ask, twirling my bangs. Hosband and the other lad¡¯s eyes are a little unnerving. But mum never said to judge a person by their cover¡ªand for all I know, these two could be extremely shy introverts who never saw such beautiful maidens before. Hosband shares a glance with his buddy. The fact that they refuse to utter a word and the murmuring going on behind us makes me more anxious. But Hosband sighs heavily and takes a step to the side¡ªwhich his body does as well. And finally, Hosband speaks with a husk tone, ¡°I received word some time ago that in the case an eccentric blonde brat and her equally bratty sidekick ever stopped by and tries to charm their way in, it was left to my discretion to let her pass or not,¡± there¡¯s a disturbed yet understandable scoff from Friederika. Hosband¡¯s captivating eyes lowers to me, and I can¡¯t help but shiver. But is it shiver from Mazzareli referring to me as a brat, or Hosband lacking even an ounce of hospitality for his guest? In any case, Friederika and I give our thanks to Hosband and his friend and step inside into the strategic conference room. It¡¯s rather dimly lit with the only real source of light from a bluish-white projection shining from the large rectangular table situated in the middle. On the holographic display are tiny, polygonal dots representing the armada on a corps level and various points of interest highlighted in yellow or red. The most highlighted points of interest are Lagrange points or certain satellites in the Brenaco star zone. On one end of the table is the nearby star zone of Chabon and some parts of the Lebon zone. In either star zone, there are more acute cases of red and orange points of interest. Curiously, it makes me wonder if there were more Frankish bandit forces in the Realm? Was Chal¡¯s belief of them being only in Brenaco wrong this time? Or maybe they expanded after we departed from the ill-fated disaster in Toscana. Around this table is a large cast of officers of all ranks than I¡¯ve ever seen assembled at once. All of them sit in tall red metallic chairs, but some stand next to as adjutants or are situated further away. Some lower-ranked officers line the walls in partial at-ease postures, joined by one MP on all sides. It¡¯s professional here, to say the least. Lingering memories of that fateful day dictating the proposal of Lucky Alphonse resurface. Looking back on it now makes me believe it was the embodiment of a casual atmosphere complete with suffocating nicotine from officers like Chal smoking. But the conference here is tenser¡ªone that pales to the brief confrontation with Hosband. Standing at the opposite end of the table is a man in a fancy overcoat¡ªdistinguishable from the others. His back basks in the glow of the projection, but upon our entry, he turns around to face us. It is, of course, the Admiral of the fleet, Ramsay DeRyck. It¡¯s probably been a year and a half since I¡¯ve seen the man since our graduation at the academy. But knowing he is alive and well is a sort of relief. Although it¡¯s been a year, Ramsay looks like he has aged prematurely by a fair amount¡ªhe also has sagging eyelids and soft, yet calculating eyes. ¡°And moving on, ah,¡± the Admiral pauses upon registering our presence. Quietly, Ramsay gives a solemn salute¡ªthen a rub of his beard. His pearly eyes shift to Mazzareli, who sits just off to his left. And as if on cue, the sitting officers get up one after the another and with deafening sounds of boots smashing against each other¡ªthe whole room is saluting us. They¡¯re saluting me¡­ but why? The Admiral continues in a soft voice, ¡°Lieutenant Happ-Schwarzenberger and Sub-Lieutenant Trachenberg, rather unexpected of you two to drop by for this occasion.¡± As if struck by lightning, I return a nervous salute and some of the staff officers can¡¯t help but chuckle. ¡°If you wish to take a seat, you may do so,¡± Ramsay hand guides to a seat next to Mazzareli¡ªand though I hallucinate it, a mirage of Buttermilch sitting back in the vacant chair. Stiffening up I answer, ¡°N-no, um¡­ I will stand here at attention, but thank you, sir.¡± I share glances with Friederika, who takes a thoughtful sigh and remains by my side. All eyes are on us and my heart beats at an unprecedented rate; just what am I here for, exactly? Ramsay smiles heartedly, putting his hands behind his back and pacing his side of the table. ¡°Fair enough, if you ever do change your mind, either of you is more than welcome to take a seat at the table. I wish that under better circumstances I could congratulate you for your double-promotion and the Victorian Cross, but regrettably,¡± Ramsay glances over at an officer a few seats away from Mazzareli, ¡°it is because of commodore Hugo¡¯s shortcomings that I am forced to preside over this operational briefing in the first place,¡± Ramsay says. There¡¯s a slight chilling, and I am left to wonder if it is from being formally recognized as a Lieutenant by the supreme commander himself, or Ramsay¡¯s caution about the urgency of this conference. Ramsay clears his throat before continuing, ¡°Lieutenant Commander Hoffman, am I inclined to believe that Happ-Schwarzenberger is certainly not a substitute for sir Hugo, in more ways than one?¡± Ramsay says laconically. The Admiral addresses the officer from before¡ªa scrawny man who is skeletal in physique and facial features, with the tiniest of glasses hanging high on his nose. Hoffman, as if caught momentarily stunned from being cast on the spotlight, recomposes him by pushing up his glasses. The reflective starry-blue shine obscures his eyes. ¡°The Commodore¡¯s health has been¡­ unfortunate,¡± Hoffman declares in a rather ear-grating tone, ¡°he has been having terrible stomach ailments as of late, and it leaves him in horrible agony indeed. So much so that it ishighly difficult for him to manage the day-to-day activities of our fleet. Thus, having him embark to the Trinidad would do little for him to make a gradual recovery.¡± A soft warmness wraps itself around one of my hands. I glance to see a worried Friederika trying to caress and loosen my stiff fists, making me realize how worked up I¡¯m getting, compelling me to cover my mouth with my other hand and release a pent-up sigh into it. I can¡¯t take Hoffman¡¯s testimony seriously. It sounds like complete and utter bullshit. On the other hand, it is telling poetic justice, but poetry that does little to stem my ever-growing frustration¡ªeveryone¡¯s anger at the Toscana debacle. Even just the sight of this miserable, sickly-looking Hoffman leaves me sick to my stomach. ¡°It is rather unfortunate indeed,¡± Ramsay runs a hand through his beard, ¡°for it means Hugo will be avoiding holding accountability before a court-martial, at least at this time. However, rather than try the Commodore in-absentia and because of some voicing of a possible unjust trial, I feel it is reasonable to have him answer to the Senate instead,¡± Ramsay says. The Admiral paces around the table and addresses an adjutant to change the projection to a view of the galaxy. While the adjutant does so, Ramsay continues, ¡°I want enough evidence and testimony to amass to have a proper and just trial¡­¡± ¡°For the record,¡± Hoffman interjects, ¡°I believe, too, that Lucky Alphonse was a doomed venture from the start,¡± Hoffman shrugs, ¡°I warned him that it would have disastrous consequences had things gone awry. Not just for the fleet and relations with our Frankish hosts, but repercussions for his very career as well. I vetoed his decision to split our fleet¡ªwhich further engineered our catastrophic defeat at the hands of the Madame Scarface.¡± I couldn¡¯t believe what I¡¯m hearing. The longer I glare at this Hoffman, the more I believe he is responsible for our debacle, and not the Commodore. Mazzareli folds his arms, our eyes meet briefly¡ªand he merely shakes his head. An officer behind Hoffman remarks, ¡°and yet, it took a mere Ensign to avoid losing an entire fleet¡ªand a possible incursion into the Frankish Realms. If that isn¡¯t a testimonial to Commodore¡¯s incompetence, then I don¡¯t know what is.¡± ¡°In any case, Admiral,¡± another officer comments, ¡°a civilian court under the jurisdiction of the Senate will not yield a favorable outcome, will it not? I believe we should proceed with a court-martial of Hugo¡¯s misconduct here and now.¡± ¡°A favorable outcome,¡± Ramsay whispers, a scoff, ¡°but for whom? The Senate thinks highly of Hugo. Once it is public knowledge that the up-and-coming Commodore has created a debacle on an unprecedented scale, people will lose faith in the military¡ªand their government. I objected for Hugo to even be appointed the mission here in the Frankish Realms¡ªthat was for Garofano, who I believed would¡¯ve done a better job interacting with his compatriots,¡± Ramsay glares at Hoffman, who clears his throat, ¡°my concerns were overturned, and as a result of that, perhaps, here we are now. A result of the Commodore and his chief of staff misconducting themselves in dialog with the Frankish realm, much less after his fleet withdrew from the Toscana star zone.¡± There is an air of silence in the room, and I realize that Admiral Garofano isn¡¯t present. ¡°The Admiral, where is he, in any case?¡± Mazzareli speaks up, broadcasting what I assume are the thoughts of Chal¡¯s officers. There are several points of interest highlighted on the map¡ªvarious orange systems highlighted in both Ruthenia and some North, in the ?le-de-France region, like Lebon and Lusatia. Just what is going on? Ramsay clears his throat, ¡°Garofano offered to reconcile on my behalf with the regional government in Lusatia. Not even a second after we entered port at Albeonia has the consulate there approached me about commodore Hugo¡¯s affairs for the last year,¡± Ramsay glares at Hoffman, who against coolly adjusts his glasses by the bridge, ¡°and more specifically¡ªhis drafting and execution of Lucky Alphonse. As it stands now¡­ the more extreme members of the Lusatian parliament have called for the immediate expulsion of Federation forces from the Frankish Realm.¡± The sudden goosebumps leave me speechless as Ramsay continues to pace the room, ¡°¡¯if we are to house and accommodate for a naval force, only for them to abandon us at the mercy of the League Militaire, then the continued presence of an even larger force¡ªwho we doubt will not provide us security in these increasing troublesome times¡ªwhat is to say we will not be abandoned again?¡¯¡± The Admiral pauses, turning to face us and the galactic map. ¡°Extremists?¡± Mazzareli remarks, his hands clasped together over his face ¡°I have heard nothing of this dilemma in Lusatia,¡± a glance at Hoffman, who pushes his hands together. ¡°If I may ask, I assume this urgency of action against the League Militaire¡ªagainst Brenaco, is more grim than expected?¡± I follow his gaze to the points of interest in the Ruthenian star zones¡ªwhere there is more red than orange. The Admiral gestures for his adjutant to focus the holographic display on Ruthenia. ¡°As it stands now,¡± Ramsay begins, ¡°I am walking over a flimsy line with two counterweights on the stick I wield. After both our supply division and Ruthenian corps were all but wiped out at Rouen,¡± the color drains from my body as the Admiral continues, but before he gets the chance to do so, Mazzareli stands up, sending his chair flying. Shocked murmurs among Chal¡¯s fleet officers circulate. ¡°Rouen?!¡± Mazzareli utters, ¡°you don¡¯t possibly mean that¡ª¡° ¡°I engaged in a pitched battle with the Wulf der Ruthenia and the Madame Scarface,¡± Ramsay says, adjusting his naval cap, ¡°cross-checking the reports I had compiled for me, my suspicions were correct¡ªit may seem that while we were deceived in the corridor, the Scarface moved to intercept your fleet. Unbeknownst to me at the time, we indeed had the Mafia in the palm of our hand. Had things gone differently, perhaps commodore Hugo and I would not have nooses around our necks right now. I reckon that the Senate will indeed come to a decision that will save face for both parties once this is made abundantly clear,¡± Ramsay takes a seat at his chair, placing the cap on the table: a heavy sigh unlike any other. ¡°Sir, if I may,¡± an officer begins, ¡°with that news in mind, should we not renew an invasion against the Mafia, then? To avenge our fallen and preemptively save face by restoring Federal order in Toscana?¡± All eyes were on him¡ªbut mine were on Hoffman, who sits back in his chair with arms folded. There is a long moment of silence, prompting me to snap out of it and observe the Admiral. The man remains deep in contemplation as he sits there with his hands steepling, obstructing his lower face. ¡°The answer to that question lies with the situation unfolding in Ruthenia¡ª¡° Ramsay sighs once more and rests his hands on the table, ¡°due to the losses we sustained, the Ruthenian authorities were unable to comply with serving us any further. This is due in part due to pressure from their military¡ªwhich I suspect is because of influence from Tory Dolz,¡± if I remember correctly, that was Alexandra¡¯s father, does she know about this, perhaps? The Admiral continues, ¡°this owes to the fact that the expansionary unit was composed of units from his jurisdiction. Needless to say, because of the ongoing setbacks the Federation faces with the construction of the Hsing-T''ien orbital fortress over Valcolis, our loss at Rouen has caused some friction among the Ruthenian populace. It wasn¡¯t long before there were reports of widespread Anti-Federation demonstrations,¡± a holographic window pops up when Ramsay pauses. The video feed is somewhat garbled and fizzled but displays a bird-eyes view of swaths of people in a Side protesting. Many among the demonstrators hold protest signs I do not comprehend, some with long banners that are more clearly anti-Australian, to say the least. There are murmurs in the room as Ramsay has his adjutant show more displays from across Ruthenia¡ªmany are more violent, such as a shield-wall of anti-rioters being cobbled with bricks by pedestrians on a street, overturned burning personnel carriers, and anti-riot personnel hosing down protesters. Statues of Galland are vandalized¡ªin some videos they are torn down to the cheering of crowds. As Ramsay lets this footage unfold he continues, ¡°from Valcolis planet-side, to as far as the Picardi star zone, Ruthenia is facing an increasingly dire situation. But because of the immediate logistics issue I faced, maintaining a presence in Ruthenia with a large fleet would, I believe, cause unforeseen consequences¡ªas such, I have left the Hsing-T''ien garrison in the hands of captain Rubenfield, along with a supplementary squadron of cruisers and a few marine divisions at his disposal. Any more, I believe, would further strain relations with the Ruthense. ¡°And as I departed for the Kongriega corridor, I received word that these mass demonstrations materialized into open revolt. Rubenfield said in messages that these originated from Valcolis and her Clusters. In the coming weeks, they spread to the rest of Ruthenia like wildfire,¡± another round of murmurs after a brief pause from Ramsay, ¡°by the time I was in the Bwyenda system, there was news of naval yards going on strike¡ªthen localized cases of Ruthenian naval mutinies.¡± A larger video feed pops up over the others, showing a man overlooking a city in flames. Perched atop a crowd, this individual waves over his head the red, white, and red-crossed flag of Ruthenia. ¡°in the spiritual Ruthenian capital of Vardini,¡± Ramsay continues ¡°Rubenfield reported he lost contact with the government there¡ªand after some lengthy back-channels, was informed earlier this week that it had indeed collapsed and restructured a provisional government of sorts stylizing itself as the Emergency Committee for Ruthenian Security.¡± Ramsay stops, leaning into his seat and stroking his beard. He reaches for his cap and gestures for the adjutant managing the holographic display, who changes it back to Brenaco and portions of the Frankish Domains. There is an eerie silence¡ªnot even murmurs to break the tenseness. Finally, Mazzareli speaks up for the rest. ¡°Are we to assume that this¡­ civil unrest in Ruthenia has mounted to a revolution? A threat to Federation stability?¡± Mazzareli leans in, clasping his hands and twiddling his thumbs briefly, ¡°has there been any word of our mission directive from the Senate? Has Prime Minister Lawrence Preece made a statement on the crisis?¡± Ramsay glances at the Lieutenant Commander, though his gaze is averted at the holographic display. Ramsay begins to speak, ¡°the Prime Minister, I am told, has been briefed on the matter a month ago. Yet, he seems to be preoccupied with the heightened tensions regarding the forthcoming general election. For the time being¡ªSydney, as well as the moderate members of Lusatian parliament¡ªimplore me to eliminate the League Militaire through most means necessary,¡± Ramsay leans back in his chair, his eyes never once averting from the holographic display. ¡°As much as I detest commodore Hugo¡¯s blunder in Toscana, the fact that he still has a supply corp to speak of is a miracle. ¡°The surviving members of my logistics corp who happened to be on leave were capable enough to negotiate and scrounge together a modest supply corp, enough for me to continue the campaign into the Kongriega corridor. But it wouldn¡¯t be enough to sustain ourselves in the Frankish Domains, and as such, a renewed venture into Toscana is absolutely out of the question. ¡°The Mafia may be easy to overcome, but the logistics needed for an occupation will be impossible to sustain and would only further sour relations with the still-minority extremists in Lusatia,¡± Ramsay sighs, gathering his cap and getting up to pace the room. ¡°The longer we stay here in the Frankish Domains, the likelihood a Frankish revolution may occur, and even as we speak, there are naval yards on strike in Lebon. For now, it is not a problem, and I wish to keep it that way. So the better we dismantle the League Militaire, hand over occupation to Frankish forces, the sooner we may finish this overdue campaign and leave the Franks to their devices.¡± This is all too much to take in. My head spins, and Friederika holds me steady by the arm. She whispers for me to keep calm, but my body trembles despite her reassurance. I clear my throat, again, and several times¡ªclutching my chest to stop my rapidly beating heart. Why is there so much focus on the Brenaco brigade? Or what he refers to as the League Militaire. Weren¡¯t we sent here specifically to monitor Frankish signs of disloyalty against Metropolitan Sol? Continuing to tighten the grip on my chest, I step forward into the light. By approaching the table, I startle some of the officers with my presence. ¡°Sir¡­¡± I croak, catching the attention of the Admiral and the others. I clear my stuffy throat, averting my eyes around the holographic display until eventually meeting those sad, pearly eyes of Ramsay. I open my mouth to speak, but I can¡¯t bring myself to get words out. I avert my gaze once more, this time locking eyes with Mazzareli. He sighs heavily, breaking off to gaze at Buttermilch¡¯s vacant seat. Drawing the courage to speak, I meet eyes with Ramsay again. ¡°Our mission here¡­ we were told first and foremost by our superiors¡ªby commodore Hugo that we were simply to remain passive, to only keep watch on this¡­ League Militaire. Notwithstanding Hugo¡¯s decision to mount an assault into Toscana,¡± I pause, taking a deep breath, ¡°was the mission here, based on observing Frankish activity for any signs of anti-Federation demonstrations¡­ was it merely all a front¡ªwere we supposed to target the League Militaire above all else?¡± Ramsay goes over to the table, leaning on it to stare at the Lagrange points of interest. He glances at first Mazzareli, then the empty seat of Buttermilch, and lastly the two of us look at Hoffman, who flinches at being put on the spot again. ¡°Commodore Hugo,¡± Hoffman insists, pushing his tiny oval glasses by the bridge timidly, ¡°we all urged him to take action against them sooner, but¡­ he was insistent on biding time and maintaining a passive approach to our Frankish hosts¡­¡± he trails off, trying to hide his anxiety with a smirk, ¡°of course, as we all know now, Toscana weighed heavily on his mind¡ªand he objected to our¡ª¡° a shrug, a greater smirk ¡°to my objective view of the situation.¡± When Hoffman finishes there follows a moment of silence. After Ramsay exchanges glances with the rest of the conference attendees, he begins to speak. ¡°Commodore Hugo¡¯s primary mission as stated by the Senate was through most means blockade, assault and eventually subdue the League Militaire. To liberate the Clusters under its control, and kill or capture its commander-in-chief known as the Il Magnifico; Jonathan Churchill,¡± Ramsay says. A holographic portrait of a man appears, titled COLONEL JONATHAN CHURCHILL. He¡¯s a remarkably well-built man, with golden slicked-back hair, and piercing blue eyes that almost compels me to back into the corner. What strikes fear the most, and what I find as the most distinguishable aspect about the portrait is his uniform¡ªit¡¯s eerily similar to that of Bernie¡¯s; a Frankish Legionnaire? ¡°We¡­¡± I mutter ¡°we were lied to, Admiral?¡± I ask helplessly, glaring at Hoffman. The officer merely shrugs, his gaze averting my burning as his spectacles slide down his nose ridge. His smirk shapes into an uncomfortable grin. Ramsay looks up at the combined holographic display of Jonathan and the Brenaco points of interest. He says, tilting his head to the side at his Hugo subordinates. Most of them other than Mazzareli are unable to make eye contact with either of us. ¡°I am not explicitly sure of how Hugo or his chain of command may have worded it, but that does indeed sound like the case. My apologies, and my sincere condolences about commander Buttermilch becoming a casualty under Hugo¡¯s utter misjudgment.¡± My fists strain from the boiling anger, at Hoffman, and commodore Hugo. Buttermilch¡­ why? Did you know? ¡°Even now, to think Churchill, one of the best and brightest Legionnaire commanders of our time, would simply turn his back on the Federation,¡± Mazzareli says grimly, ¡°and by extent dragging the tattered reputation of the Legion down with him. It sickens me, really, to know he still walks a free man.¡± A couple of officers grunt in agreement. Mazzareli glances at me before continuing to speak, ¡°Your action against the Leagues Militaire¡ªwhat will it be, Admiral?¡± Ramsay sighs heavily, placing his hands behind his back and examining the side of the table with Mazzareli and Hoffman. After a few moments of this silence, the Admiral gives his answer. ¡°After careful examination by myself and the marine general staff over the last couple days, I¡¯ve decided to implement Operation Entebbe.¡± ¡°Entebbe?¡± Mazzareli utters, shooting forward in his chair, ¡°Admiral, you don¡¯t mean¡­?¡± Marine staff? That could mean one thing and one thing only. Friederika¡¯s grip tightens; she must¡¯ve realized what this means, too. Operation Entebbe¡­ I¡¯ve heard the name somewhere or at its alternative title: Thunderbolt. It was kept under tight wraps and was ultimately shelved, requiring a high clearance to read. But when has that ever stopped me before? Had I known about our true objective here back then, maybe things would¡¯ve been different. Ramsay steps to the side to provide a better view of the holographic display. It zooms in and narrows into a smaller sector of the Brenaco star zone, where several Clusters are highlighted in green. ¡°Until fairly recently, the precise location of the League Militaire¡¯s base of operations was shrouded in mystery. But thanks to a chance report of League ships launching a strike on¡ª¡± ¡°What?!¡± I gasp, stepping toward the table again, ¡°they told us these¡­ League Militaire guys were incapable of attacking any Clusters¡ªI¡¯ve never even heard of anything happening since we got here!¡± Ramsay takes in the accusation for a moment. With a glance at Mazzareli he continues with addressing me, ¡°one thing I will credit the Commodore for is maintaining a confidential report¡ªa gag rule¡ªabout the incident. I was impressed by the speed I received it, given I barely entered Albeonia when the paper was placed on my desk. This is all the more reason for me to act swiftly before any further political incidents stem from it. It would certainly give ammunition for the extremist camp if they ever caught wind of it. ¡°In any case, we were able to pinpoint retreating League ships to a desolate part of Brenaco.¡° The holographic display expands upon a certain zone, showcasing a Cluster containing four Sides. There are two large asteroid satellites on the Cluster¡¯s outer parameter, one dubbed as Ishtar-One and the second one Ishtar-One-A. Many smaller chunks of asteroids surround both satellites and the Cluster. An attempt at camouflage, perhaps? In any case, it must¡¯ve deceived Federation eyes for as long as it has. ¡°Lagrange point four¡­¡± an officer who I believe is Francien mutters, ¡°we¡¯ve always believed it was gone for good!¡± The officer approaches the Admiral¡ªthe MP nearest him tries to apprehend him, but he lets him have his say first, ¡°Admiral! You are absolutely sure of this? You are not getting our hopes up?!¡± ¡°I¡¯ve had Francien civilian navigators verify that this is indeed the missing Lagrange Cluster that went missing around the time colonel Churchill¡¯s nineteenth corps went rogue,¡± Ramsay says, undeterred by the aggressive officer. The Francien relents and calms down enough that the MP also backs off. ¡°Moving on; Entebbe will be divided into two phases. The first phase, Coronet, will involve drawing out the League into open combat, cutting them off, and eliminating any further outside opposition to marine landings.¡± Marine landings. Those words give me shivers at the implications they entail. If ground forces are involved, and if our direct opposition is Legionnaires¡­ that will mean a bloody endeavor. Assuming a corps is about forty-thousand or even eighty thousand strong in such an urbanized area¡­ This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. ¡°Will we be committing the whole fleet, sir?¡± Mazzareli asks, ¡°from what I recall, our reports since August suggest they have anywhere from six to nine hundred vessels¡­ but not all of them are typically warship sized, or bigger than a heavy cruiser at best.¡± Ramsay is silent on the matter for a few moments before giving his answer, ¡°as most of my chiefs of staff know, fighting an enemy favoring geography like an asteroid field like this will be tricky in deploying all our assets,¡± Ramsay says. The Admiral motions for his adjutant to configure something on his tablet, and Ramsay explains, ¡°my staff has been working around the clock devising various plans for the Coronet phase.¡± The holographic display shows a simulated course of action against the League Militaire ships. A large arrow indicator sweeps around the sides, spreading our strength around the parameter of the asteroid belt. Our fleet only has a projected total of some two thousand and four ships. And yet, there is a creeping suspicion that it still wouldn¡¯t be enough to reinforce all sectors equally. With this in mind, Ramsay shows several alternative variations of the simulation, from versions concentrating on either side with smaller deployments in between the larger formations to ensure as luring out the League Militaire. One possible simulation takes into the equation a breakout of the League Militaire from their Cluster towards the Lebon star zone. And if that happens to instigate a Frankish insurrection, then who knows what will happen from there? What strikes me the most, however, is the alarming amount of casualties we will face. No matter the situation we may take¡ªother than the one with forces concentrated on two sides only¡ªthe ratio to Federation and League ships is nearly two to one. In most of these simulations, Federation losses are incremental the more our simulated ships push into the asteroid field. Of course, these numbers are hypothetical. This is all simply virtual. But sooner or later, these numbers will occur. This is going to be bloody no matter what. But the most discerning thing is how unusually fast-paced these plans are in terms of deployment are. There seems to be very little consideration for a drawn-out blockade, where we would evidently be capable of withering the League ships down in terms of logistics. The holographic map then changes to a closer tactical view of the four sides; ISHTAR-TERRA, MAXWELL, MONTES, and PATERA. Ramsay continues his briefing, ¡°the success of Coronet will be followed up by the second phase of the operation; Thunderbolt,¡± a pause as a fleet of troop carriers materialize around Ishtar-One. ¡°Our launchpad will be from Ishtar-One, the closest satellite to the Cluster. After neutralization of their anti-ship emplacements, ground forces will strike all Sides simultaneously.¡± Simultaneously? At all four sides?! That¡¯s insane! ¡°Altogether, there will be about ten marine divisions involved in Thunderbolt. I want it to be explicitly known for commanders on the ground to avoid any unnecessary damage that does not benefit the operation. The Lusatian government expressed that collateral damage to Side integrity is to be left as minimal as possible.¡± ¡°We¡¯re forced to fight with one hand and two legs tied together, huh?¡± The grumbling voice of none other than Putsch catches me off guard. I must¡¯ve been tunnel visioning so hard that I failed to notice his presence. ¡°Are we to assume there may be a civilian presence, as well? Collaborators with ol¡¯ Johnny?¡± Before the Admiral gets the chance to answer, I step toward the table and lean onto it. ¡°And what if we are unable to score a decisive victory by drawing them out?¡± Those words¡ªmy voice¡ªecho throughout the room. ¡°If we have to risk so much¡­ would it not simply be beneficial to keep a tight defensive blockade ring centered around Ishtar-One and Ishtar-One-A?¡± I glance around the room to curious listeners, ¡°thereby saving lives and slowly starve out the League Militaire? Maybe¡­ maybe even with surgical strikes on logistic ships to further reduce their fighting spirit? We would be able to avoid any costly marine landings! ¡°We¡¯re not facing any old enemy, are we not? We¡¯re not even facing pirates, and even those were a tough nut to crack at Malabo and Baltit, supposedly. If we¡¯re facing Legionnaires¡­¡± I clutch my beating chest, a deep breath before continuing, ¡°Admiral, we¡¯re facing an enemy that¡¯s probably formidable facing head-on. These aren¡¯t just measly pirates and outlaws who are untrained for ground warfare. And we¡¯re facing these fearsome warriors on multiple fronts,¡± slamming fists on the table, a slight blue flicker, ¡°I¡¯ve had one commander ignore my pleas to avoid a bloodbath¡ªI¡­ and so many others won¡¯t want another to occur! ¡°If Thunderbolt doesn¡¯t prioritize fewer Sides to better concentrate our forces¡­ undertaking the entire Cluster at once is practically suicide!¡± Balling my fists, ¡°nobody wants another Lucky Alphonse¡­ nobody wants more widows and orphans to answer back home¡± When I finish, I take several deep breaths, the redness in my face makes me dizzy. Friederika tries to keep me steady with a hand on my shoulder. Major Putsch clears his throat then speaks up. ¡°The lass does have a point, Admiral. Had the Commodore gone with Entebbe before Lucky Alphonse, I would be more than happy to put these traitorous scum in their place. Unfortunately, I¡¯ve lost a fair share of men in the ground offenses in Toscana and I¡¯m only left with half an officer corps to work with as a result. Attacking multiple Sides when we don¡¯t even know how big the nineteenth corps is, would be tantamount to another disaster¡­¡± Putsch clasps his hands before continuing, ¡°and from the sounds of it, a disaster is like the only feasible outcome of Entebbe, as it stands now. Surely, there is no way we can implement the Lieutenant¡¯s suggestion?¡± The Admiral strokes his well-kept but silver-lined beard. With continued silence the Admiral turns from the conference table, his hands clasping together behind his back. With his head turned halfway, he addresses us. ¡°Operation Entebbe hinges on Garofano in Lusatia. He is biding time for us to carry out our mission here lest the minor extremist camp in the parliament grows. Had I not lost my supply division in Rouen, I would have been further inclined to maintain a stranglehold on the Leagues Militaire,¡± the Admiral turns to face us, sinking into his chair and setting his cap down. Ramsay runs a hand through his beard and crew-cut hair, where there is additional graying. ¡°Must I stress Entebbe was meant to be carried out by commodore Hugo first and foremost. By the time I was supposed to originally arrive here, the fleet was supposed to oversee the end of the operation.¡± ¡°And now,¡± I whisper, my gaze falls to the starry-blue holographic table, ¡°and now¡­¡± ¡°Garofano had this to say,¡± Ramsay continues, pinching his nose ridge, ¡°the Lusatian parliament gives me until the end of January to accomplish the scope of our operation,¡± a round of murmurs and gasps fill the room which the MPs¡¯ attempt to call for order in the room. After the commotion calms down, Ramsay continues, ¡°they will consider further Metropolitan presence in the Domains unconstitutional. To avoid being at odds with Lusatia, it is thus a necessity to accelerate plans for the operation to commence no sooner than December fifth.¡± The color drains from my very body. The lightheadedness leaves me merely speechless. So soon¡­?! ¡°And as for Thunderbolt¡­¡± Ramsay meets eyes with me, a slight but sad smile, ¡°I will look into revising the technicalities of it with my general staff with those suggestions in mind.¡± The Admiral¡¯s reassurance is comforting, but the pain in my chest still lingers. To think we would be in such a horrible predicament¡­! From behind us, the door slides open leading to a bit of commotion outside. I reel around to see a female officer wearing the all-too-familiar tiger-striped uniform enter the room at Hosband and the other¡¯s protest. The woman, slender in physique, has long, pinkish hair tried into a ponytail. Her oceanic-green eyes, serious and unflinching, meet mine momentarily as the room gets stiff salutations out of the way. The Legionnaire begins to speak, ¡°brigadier general Ishikawa¡ªAdmiral, I¡¯ll make my presence here brief. I couldn¡¯t help but understand that my eighteenth corps will not be participating in the Thunderbolt phase?¡± I look back at the Admiral, who nestles the cap back on his head. Ramsay leans into his seat, hands steepling on the table. ¡°I hope you understand that this not is an oversight and that this is a matter of security,¡± Ramsay answers coolly, ¡°to have Frankish Legionnaires combat Legion¡ª¡° ¡°Those traitorous vermin are not deserving of being called Legionnaires,¡± Ishikawa retorts, ¡°they are besmirching our very name! Admiral¡­ despite the shortcomings of commodore Hugo in Toscana, my men were this close to achieving victory¡ªand the withdrawal decision is seen as a stab in the back by you naval bastards. They¡ªwe wish to redeem ourselves in Ishtar Terra, we want to fight and save-face for our shortfall in Malabo and Baltit¡­ for many of the rank-and-file, it is the only way to restore honor to the Frankish Legion¡ªand I agree with them. I implore you to let the eighteenth corps participate in the invasion if manpower and available officers are an issue in the slightest.¡± ¡°The eighteenth was once a core element in the nineteenth, was it not?¡± Hoffman remarks, adjusting his glasses, ¡°what is there to say they won¡¯t join their brothers in arms?¡± When Ishikawa huffs her chest and approaches Hoffman, two MPs step forward to the Legionnaire. Hoffman, on the other hand, trembles, but scoffs. ¡°Violent brutes, all of you¡­¡± ¡°That¡¯s enough, lieutenant commander Hoffman,¡± Ramsay says ¡°Brigadier Ishikawa¡­ I understand the frustration that you and the eighteenth corps have. Manpower does indeed remain a concern for the Thunderbolt phase, and I will take into consideration the employment of the Legionnaires at our disposal, so please rest assured.¡± ¡°Thank you, sir,¡± Ishikawa says, saluting, ¡°another thing¡ªand you may have heard of this already, but the eighteenth corps has received over several thousand volunteers from the Gasson populaces alone. The majority of them happen to be first and second-generation civilians formerly from Lagrange point four,¡± admiral DeRyck nods, leaning back in his chair with a muse, ¡°we¡¯ve been training and drilling them for a few weeks now¡ªsome of them years, Admiral. If you permit it, we can arm and incorporate them as ad-hoc units in our corps.¡± ¡°Trained or not, they are still civilians,¡± Hoffman says, to the tense chagrin of the room, ¡°please consider the liability they pose if we incorporate them into the invasion force. We¡¯ve already accelerated the timetable of Thunderbolt, but if we haphazardly throw in civilians on such short notice¡ª¡° a glance at the Brigadier general, ¡°constituting a few weeks of training, and I¡¯d liken their years of training boils down to nothing more than to amateur ¡®training¡¯ sessions a few times a month, it might prove a hindrance!¡± Ishikawa grunts and tries to lunge at Hoffman, but she is held back by two of the nearest MPs¡¯. At the same time, the outspoken Frankish officer from before is also constrained by an MP next to him. ¡°You would never understand our commitment to reclaiming our homeland!¡± The officer shouts. Hoffman, on the other hand, adjusts his tie and turns his attention slightly undeterred to the Admiral. ¡°They have some sense of training,¡± Hoffman continues ¡°but it wouldn¡¯t be enough time, Admiral. These irregulars¡ªif you want to call them that¡ªmight compromise the operation with their inefficient civilian training¡­ and failure to comply with military procedure and chain of command will¡ª¡± Why this guy¡­! The grinding of my teeth leaves me more unnerved than the words coming out of this moron¡¯s mouth. ¡°Hoffman,¡± Ramsay sighs, ¡°it is an interesting insight, however, we have no geographic understanding of any of the Sides. Those irregulars will prove invaluable in providing reconnaissance on the ground for our regular forces,¡± Ramsay clasps his hands tighter, ¡°our marines and Legionnaires will need all the assistance they have at their disposal to reclaim the fourth Lagrange point,¡± his eyes shift to the Brigadier general, ¡°it is the least I can do if it means restoring the Legionnaire¡¯s trust in me and the navy. ¡°Miss Ishikawa, I will authorize you to create provisional battalions as you see fit, and I trust you will appoint any capable talent from the irregulars to act as liaison and overall commander of these battalions. True to what the lieutenant commander here suggested, it would appear disastrous if an untrained mob does not act according to military regulation.¡± ¡°Understood, sir,¡± Ishikawa says with a pristine salute, ¡°the volunteer Francien corps will be overjoyed at their inclusion in the operation to retake their homeland.¡± After an air of silence, admiral DeRyck gets up, adjusting the cap atop head before signaling his adjutant to turn the holographic display off. The room goes dim for a moment before the light is illuminated by a ceiling light. ¡°Now, then,¡± Ramsay begins, ¡°this concludes the briefing regarding both phases of Operation Entebbe. Further adjustments will be expected to be minor,¡± Ramsay glances at me with a nod of approval, ¡°and updated operation plans will be disclosed at a later date before the execution of Entebbe. In the meantime, I want the fleet to continue its current day-to-day business until December fourth,¡± a slow raising of his hand for a salute, ¡°session dismissed.¡± The room slowly but surely shuffles out. Friederika tugs on me indicating for us to beat the crowd, and I obediently abide. Outside the curious eavesdroppers have dispersed, and Hosband and his MP buddy have also scattered with the crowd. But the moment we¡¯re out in the hallway, my legs are sluggish, and Friederika tugs harder to no luck. ¡°Come on, love,¡± she mutters, ¡°I wanna get out of here as much as you do¡­ Vicky, you do wanna head back, right?¡± The attendee crowd passes by us with little talk yet occasional murmuring. Ramsay is still in the room with some others, discussing some trivial matters that I can¡¯t be bothered to pick up on. I couldn¡¯t do a bloody damn thing. What did I expect, exactly? If Buttermilch was here¡­ ¡°Vicky, come on, or I¡¯m going to leave you behind. I¡¯m starving, you know?¡± Friederika is nearly pleading, but I can¡¯t bring myself to act as her comedic straight man. I have no energy to do so, no willpower left. If Buttermilch was more outspoken, if I had gotten to Buttermilch sooner¡­ would we have taken the League Militaire out sooner? ¡°Vicky,¡± Friederika says, a little softer this time, ¡°I¡¯ll be in the Trinidad¡¯s mess hall for a bit. Try not to get lost without me, okay? Don¡¯t mope around for too long,¡± Friederika is quiet for a while as if expecting a last-minute rebound of energy from me. Of course, Friederika expects too much of me, and she pats me on the shoulder, passing me going about her way. Who knows if Ramsay will go through with the proposed changes? What¡¯s to stop him from being persuaded and sacrificing so many lives for the sake of pleasing some grumpy old beans in the Frankish Domains¡­? I turn around, taking a deep breath and intending to head back into the conference room¡ª And a flinching lieutenant commander Hoffman jumps back in surprise. His eyes nearly bulge out of his head, but he is swift to recompose himself. ¡°E-erm ensign¡­ er,¡± Hoffman scoffs, a rapid adjustment of his spectacles, ¡°l-lieutenant Happ¡­ Happ-Schwarzenberger was it?¡± His decrepit eyes are shifty, and he forces a creepy, unnerving smile trembling at the edges. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind, you¡¯re sort of¡­ uh, blocking the doorway I should say?¡± I glare at a bead of sweat rolling down his frail, sunken features, ¡°er, hum¡­ miss, now, if you excuse me, I have a shuttle to catch.¡± A nervous salute and the Lieutenant Commander slips past me into the hallway. Yet, something eats away at me. A fiery pain throbs in my chest as I watch¡ªas if in slow motion¡ªthis officer slips away from the doorway. His smile, twisted as it is, makes me believe he grits his teeth. It is as time itself stops for me to reflect on Hoffman. And that moment feels like hours. As I study this unbelievable buffoon, a torrent of thoughts overpowers me. Am I led to believe that he has wholeheartedly told the truth about the Commodore¡¯s decision to focus on Lucky Alphonse? Has he really tried to convince Hugo not to go ahead with the operation over the League Militaire? What¡¯s there to say that Hoffman isn¡¯t saving face and avoiding being dragged into a court-martial with his superior? What¡¯s there to suggest he wasn¡¯t part of the democratic vote that vouched for the splitting of the fleet at Baltit? If I let this chance opportunity slip, could I ever look the families of those left behind square in the eye? Could I ever visit Buttermilch¡¯s grave or even his family, and let them know that I failed in delivering my own sense of justice? If Yuri was here right now, would she take her chance in letting this measly subordinate of Hugo know full well of what he¡¯s caused? Without realizing it, I reach out for the Lieutenant Commander. I nearly miss, but the follow-up swipe I am lucky to grab him by the sleeve. Hoffman lets out a startled cry under his breath, or maybe it¡¯s my imagination at play. At first, he tries to move¡ªbut the iron grip prevents him from doing so, and he is quick to give up any hopes of escape. He sighs deeply but doesn¡¯t so much as face me. He¡¯s stiff as a board. ¡°Um¡­ uh,¡± Hoffman stammers, using his other hand to adjust his tiny spectacle by its bridge. ¡°Lieutenant¡­ Happ, is there¡­ is there something the matter?¡± A forced chuckle, and a clearing of his throat. ¡°Have you perhaps, uh, lost the way to the shuttle bay? I do believe¡­ your little friend there, she, uh¡­¡± ¡°Lieutenant commander Hoffman,¡± I say softly, and the man flinches. I raise my gaze from the ground to burn my vision through the back of his shaven head. ¡°Y-yes¡­?¡± Hoffman answers, he turns his head partway. To my surprise, he maintains a flimsy poker face, but it¡¯s obvious he¡¯s still gritting his teeth. It¡¯s that despicable innocence he maintains that only fuels my anger even more. None of the MPs have taken notice of us yet. And even so¡­ why must Hoffman pretend to play dumb? What compels a person to weasel their way out of deserved justice? What is justice in this case? What would justice be in this case? What would let Buttermilch rest easy in his grave? ¡°You were present at the Malabo meeting, weren''t you?¡± I mutter, my grip never once lessening. Hoffman opens his mouth to speak¡ªbut he responds with nothing. His speechless lips tremble and curve into a smile. His glasses slide down his nose ridge, but he doesn¡¯t attempt to adjust it. And, yet, Hoffman distinctively avoids eye contact with me. ¡°Huh? I, well, uh, yes,¡± Hoffman finally answers, trying to keep his cool by adjusting his tie, ¡°of course I was. W¡­¡± Hoffman clears his throat: his eyes meet with mine for a split second, ¡°what about it, Lieutenant?¡± Tugging on his sleeve, my fingers curl into the fabric. ¡°Did you by chance, partake in the vote to split the fleet?¡± The very color drains from this man¡¯s already pale features. The red from his lips fades to a lighter shade of pink. His eyes quiver, he fights the trembling in his lips, and he turns ever so slightly for eye contact. ¡°Well, uh,¡± Hoffman mutters, ¡°well, well, you see¡­¡± his breathing gets quicker, and his gaze bounces around as if hoping for a way out of this debacle. And at that moment, the conference room door opens behind us. It¡¯s Mazzareli, as sternly as ever. ¡°Lieutenant commander Hoffman,¡± Mazzareli declares, folding his arms, ¡°is the one responsible for encouraging commodore Hugo to split the fleet in the first place!¡± Hoffman turns his head fully to me at the shocking revelation. Hoffman¡¯s mouth twitches as he forces an apologetic¡ªan insincere smile. There was nothing I could¡¯ve done, Victoria. For fame or glory my ass! That slap from earlier was merely deserved karma for punching the lights out on one of Hugo¡¯s shit-faced subordinates¡­ even now, the warm reassuring voice of Buttermilch echoes in the back of my mind. Of course, Buttermilch is long gone. Dead. A casualty of war. Hoisted by the one flaw in the chain of command he hoped to change for the better. I forcibly reel Hoffman to face me directly, the Lieutenant commander lets out a startled grunt but has an iron well in fighting back. But all it does is add fuel to the frustration. I grab him by the collar, bringing him closer to my level. His composure persists albeit just as feebly. ¡°Buttermilch is dead because of you!¡± I scream with all my energy¡ªall my hatred, all of everyone¡¯s frustration and sadness. ¡°Your actions have caused so much pain and suffering throughout the fleet! And yet, you have the gall to act so high and mighty!¡± Not once does Hoffman react, he stares past me, like a deer in the headlights, frozen in place, that ugly smile curling ever so lightly. I hate it. I hate it so much. That dreadful smile. ¡°We nearly faced annihilation because of you¡ªbecause of your and Hugo¡¯s quest for fame and glory¡­ and look at what it has caused! Look at what your incompetence has caused!¡± My vision blurs from a surge of tears, ¡°so many good people died, so many more people will die because of what you achieved¡­ because of what you failed to achieve. I hope your fame and glory was bloody well worth it dammit!¡± I pull Hoffman closer to me, ¡°does it not frustrate you of your shortcomings? Do you not feel remorse for what you caused¡ªthe sacrifice of a good, well-intentioned man like Buttermilch and so many like him for something that failed catastrophically? Did you hope to use him as a stepping stone to plague the chain of command with your diluted goals? You selfish cunt! How do you live with the crushing guilt over what you¡¯ve done!?¡± And yet, no matter what I threw at Hoffman¡ªhe remains mostly unfazed. Unable to bear with his placidness any further, I let go with my right hand, curling it into a fist¡ªputting all my weight on my right foot and hip, then swinging the ride side of my body briefly. With the horror in Hoffman¡¯s eyes unfolding, I swing forward and deliver a blow to the face. Hoffman lets out a startled cry¡ªand despite his scrawny appearance, crashes to the floor with a heavy thud bringing me down with him. I immediately get on top of Hoffman¡ªgrabbing his collar and pulling him up with all my strength. But this pain that Hoffman endures is nothing compared to the endless thousands that died horribly. It¡¯s nothing compared to the lives he inadvertently cut short¡ªthose who died perhaps painlessly, who never had the time to realize their fate. I intend to deliver another crucial blow. For one punch wouldn¡¯t be enough to speak my mind, to broadcast the feelings and dashed hopes of all those who committed themselves to the misfortune of attaining one man¡¯s blood-stained fame and glory. I want to punch this pathetic excuse of a commander¡ªthis inexcusable human. Again, and again, and again and again. ¡°Victoria!¡± The shrieking of Friederika spurs me out of my induced frenzy. Her weight crashes onto my back as the Sub-Lieutenant wrangles her arms around my struggle to deliver justice to Hoffman. Despite my perseverance, Friederika is more than capable of dragging me off Hoffman to some avail. There¡¯s a torrent of wetness on my back as Friederika tightens her grip around my chest. ¡°Victo¡­¡± Friederika gasps, getting me to my feet with relative ease, ¡°what the bloody hell is wrong with you?! Are you mad?¡± Friederika wails again, spinning me to deliver a stinging smack that leaves me seeing bright stars. There is a commotion as officers and MPs alike crowd around us. I can¡¯t make out what any of them say, and I only watch in solemn silence as Hoffman is helped up by an MP and another bystander. The hallway immediately shushes when the Admiral enters. His stern gaze monitors the room, before falling on me and Friederika. ¡°Admiral! With your permission, I¡¯ll escort this Lieutenant to the brig over this mishap,¡± Hosband says. The security officer takes a few steps closer to me, reaching out¡ªwhich Friederika moves to intercept, but the two of them pause once the Admiral speaks. ¡°There will be no need for that,¡± Ramsay says rather calmly. ¡°Admiral?!¡± The officer holding Hoffman sputters, ¡°this is unacceptable behavior! Even if she is a Victorian Cross recipient¡­! This is still insubordination¡ªan assault against a high-ranking officer!¡± There are several quips from the peanut gallery. Ramsay takes in the scene; a heavy sigh. He glances at me before having his say. ¡°It does not take a genius to recognize there is a tense social dynamic particularly among Hugo¡¯s naval staff,¡± Ramsay declares, hands resting behind his back, ¡°Miss Happ¡¯s disobedience is merely a manifestation of that. If she didn¡¯t act, another would¡¯ve done the same. To have this sort of incident transpire before Entebbe would only lead me to sow seeds of further discontent among my officers,¡± Ramsay says calmly. Indeed, I never paid attention to reading the room, but a lot of people share the same sentiment towards Hoffman and the Commodore. ¡°Admiral¡­!¡± Hosband hisses, but Ramsay holds up a hand and shakes his head. Ramsay takes one glance last at me speaking to Mazzareli. ¡°With that said¡ªLieutenant Commander Mazzareli,¡± he begins, ¡°I leave at your discretion how you wish to reprimand Happ-Schwarzenberger for her misconduct towards a superior. I will not withhold her commemoration for the Victorian Cross nor a demotion at this time. However,¡± Ramsay pauses to glance at me again, ¡°if you are inclined to recommend her for a demotion and strip her of her valorous receipt, I will not object to it,¡± Ramsay salutes¡ªand Mazzareli does the same; like a wave, the rest of the room reluctantly does so too. ¡°Carry on.¡± ¡°Understood, sir,¡± Mazzareli says, taking a step back and then an about-face. The hallway fans out slowly once more, and Mazzareli watches as the disgruntled MP shuffles off after the Admiral, leaving the three of us alone. Mazzareli has the typical stern face gazing at us until the others are out of sight¡ªand to my surprise, he relaxes into a smile¡ªmore of a half-hearted smirk. ¡°What exactly am I going to do with you, Lieutenant Happ?¡± Mazzareli begins to walk, and Friederika and I walk behind him. Wiping my stream of tears with my sleeve, I sigh and grin weakly at Friederika¡ªand wipe her slightly black-smeared tears away. ¡°I never expected you to actually sucker punch a superior officer like that. You should be thankful that the Admiral is a moderate man, Happ.¡± ¡°Mazzy,¡± I gasp, ¡°y-you¡¯re not going to throw us on the Yilan¡¯s brig again, are you?¡± Buttermilch¡­ if he was here, I wonder what his reaction would¡¯ve been? Before I ponder any further, I bump into the Lieutenant Commandeer and stagger back. Mazzareli turns around with an unamused frown. ¡°On second thought,¡± Friederika and I wince, ¡°maybe I should throw the two of you into the brig¡ªthat is an offense I am not willing to overlook,¡± Mazzareli says rather coldly. Friederika gasps, clasping her arms around one of Mazzareli¡¯s. ¡°What?!¡± She whines, ¡°why me too? I didn¡¯t do a bloody damn thing, you jerk!¡± Mazzareli can¡¯t help but crack a smile. It seems so rare to see the Lieutenant Commander smile¡ªand for some reason, I can¡¯t help but burst out into a tearful laugh¡ªone that Friederika also joins. Mazzareli reaches out to the two of us and gently nestles our heads. He flashes another heartfelt smile. ¡°I¡¯m sure Buttermilch is likewise spinning in his grave, with a big stupid smile across his face,¡± Mazzareli says. Frankly, I¡¯m conflicted on how I¡¯m supposed to interpret this statement. ¡°If he was still with us now, I wouldn¡¯t shy away from the possibility that he would likewise head-butt Hoffman himself, if presented the opportunity,¡± Mazzareli stops, a sad scoff as he turns around. ¡°If either he or Hugo were together again, I¡¯m certain Buttermilch would risk a court-martial over it. And I can imagine the Commander would say it¡¯s a matter of justice.¡± Mazzareli deflates with a heavy sigh and begins walking again. Friederika and I glance at each other¡ªand obediently follow him again. ¡°Um¡­¡± I ask, ¡°how exactly are you going to reprimand us, Mazzy?¡± ¡°Again,¡± Friederika whines, ¡°why am I being included in this punishment?!¡± Mazzareli doesn¡¯t stop nor answer us immediately. But after a while, he turns his head to look out into space at the shuttles zipping away from the Trinidad. ¡°It may be light, it may be nothing at all,¡± Mazzareli answers, ¡°I haven¡¯t decided so don¡¯t go getting your hopes up too high just yet. But the more you call me that, the more I might seriously consider what the Admiral offered,¡± that stings a little, old man. ¡°Yet¡­ I don¡¯t want to be haunted for the rest of my life by the former Commander if I give you anything more than a slap on the wrist,¡± Mazzareli says, ¡°so maybe I¡¯m willing to let you off the hook¡ªif it means not facing the same criticism that the Admiral tossed onto my lap on the Yilan.¡± ¡°Mazzy,¡± I utter¡­ ¡°I never took you for being so soft; so having a sliver of kindness in that heart of yours, y¡¯know?¡± Expecting Mazzareli to complain about the Mazzy nickname again, he merely scoffs in defeat. Friederika and I glance at each other¡ªchuckles, then shrugs. Chapter 98: Embers of Ishtar | Yilan Some More (50,000+ views milestone!!!!) Friederika and I are unfortunate enough to not have Yuri shuttle us back to the Yilan. We didn¡¯t see her shuttle at all, leaving me to guess that Bernie met her and was able to make it to Side Terrassa without further delay. For these slow, passing moments in the shuttle, it¡¯s the only thing that gives me peace of mind. It¡¯s cramped in here. Maybe it was out of consideration, but Mazzareli didn¡¯t want us wandering off on our own¡ªto avoid any trouble, and avoid any confrontation with military police who might want a word with us. I wish Mazzareli would give us¡ªor at least me a little credit for behaving, but who am I to judge his mentality? As such, Mazzareli¡ªperhaps as an extension of his bad decision-making¡ªherds us into his shuttle along with the rest of the Yilan staff. It¡¯s a scene familiar to that fateful day, us coming back to the Yilan from the Commodore¡¯s ship for the Lucky Alphonse briefing. But, glancing around, there is a stark contrast compared to that fateful time; it¡¯s too tense in here¡ªthere is no excitement among my peers, no shushed murmuring between the staff regarding Entebbe. Everyone weighs their opinions in collective silence¡ªand it puts me on edge. Even so, once I get back on the Yilan, I can¡¯t find the willpower of going through the trouble of setting up a demonstration in protest of Entebbe. There will be no diligent rebuttal this time. Where I failed the first time at Malabo, I made up for it here. I made my presence and my voice loud and clear this time around. I made a point that a simultaneous invasion of the whole Cluster would be in vain. To that extent, then and there, I could¡¯ve saved thousands of lives. In any case, where would I begin with such a ridiculous demonstration? What would I be protesting against? What would others say about the Toscana Heroine, the Lady Luck of Toscana if she simply caused commotion over every little military operation we undertake? What would my father say about all of this? Glancing at the meditating Mazzareli, I can only wonder: what would Buttermilch make of this? It makes me sick to my stomach. I should be satisfied with what I accomplished at the meeting¡ªanyone would be relieved in my shoes, but it¡¯s as though I left the Trinidad empty-handed. Could I be contributing to a military disaster, or will I be accomplishing bringing the League Militaire to its knees? Friederika passes the time trying to keep us in spirits. But after a while, either from being tired or realizing it¡¯s fruitless she stops prattling in my ear. It makes me guilty, but I¡¯m simply too lost in my thoughts to do so much as force a smile¡­ and that wouldn¡¯t suffice to make Friederika happy anyway. She must¡¯ve realized this since she looks mildly in disbelief about her feeble attempt at being a good friend¡­ but it¡¯s not her fault. I¡¯m the poor sport for being a damper on our whole situation. Friederika hugs herself, having giving up on trying to keep me¡ªand perhaps herself¡ªin good spirits. I don¡¯t blame her, how could even a jokester like her put a light spin on things? You can¡¯t. In any case, it won¡¯t be long before she snores and the rest of the passengers throw her into the back. I keep an arm secured around her, shifting in my seat to keep myself comfortable; that what they wouldn¡¯t dare lay a finger on my poor snoring gremlin. I curl my toes and fingers, over and over again. The gnawing in my chest, the bitterness in my throat¡ªit¡¯s all too much to bear. My anxiety, which hasn¡¯t been much of a bother after getting the chance to speak with Yuri, and very much gone after meeting with Bernie, rears its ugly face back in. Simmering, boiling. Spilling over and entrapping me once more. Every so often, I shiver, recounting continuously the things I¡¯ve learned from the council briefing. Mass demonstrations across Ruthenia, violent escalation of protests bordering on armed revolts. The looming yet realistic possibility of a revolution. The Prime Minister¡¯s seemingly lack of disinterest as he looks inward to general elections. The Ruthenians taking matters into their own hands with the formation of an Emergency Council. Mental images of burning armored cars, toppled statues, piles of trampled Federation flags, and shield-wall riot police colliding with protesters weigh heavily on my mind, unshakable things I could not look away from, now etched forever into my mind. And all top of all it all, I think, pales in comparison to the captivating glare of Jonathan Churchill; his facial features such as his strong jawline and well-defined cheekbones, supplemented by battery-blue eyes demanding submission still leaves me intimidated. Paralyzed, even, by the overwhelming presence of his projection in the conference room. I dread the idea of what his presence warrants if I come face to face with him. We shouldn¡¯t be here. Yet, here we are focusing on subjugating the League Militaire which seems practically trivial. We should be focusing on the greater issue at hand¡­ and yet, leaving the Frankish Domains now would only generate a crisis¡ªno, an interstellar incident just as huge. We cannot abandon our Frankish colleagues as the Commodore has done months ago in his quest for glory. This is what the military is for. This is our duty to carry out our orders at the behest of our civilian leaders in Sydney and our hosts in Lusatia. We¡¯re here because we have to be; because there¡¯s nobody else to carry out the difficult tasks laid bare. We¡¯re in this predicament because of the Commodore. I tell myself that repeatedly one too many times. At some point, it¡¯s like a mantra¡ªone occasionally broken by the jolts and rumbling of the shuttle as it appears to enter the Yilan. If commodore Hugo didn¡¯t act in his interests¡­ we wouldn¡¯t be such a complicated mess. By focusing on one region, we ignore the other¡ªand that persists no matter which route we go with. There are so many things I wanted to say back there¡ªthings I could¡¯ve done. But would it have made any difference? Is there truly any best method out of this interstellar quagmire? If the Admiral had split his force again¡ªone to send to Ruthenia and one to undertake Entebbe¡ªwould it benefit Federation security? A long sigh, taking my garrison cap off to run a hand through golden locks of hair. Even if we did intervene in Ruthenia¡­ would it defuse the situation as it stands right now? Would we be seen as peacekeepers¡­ or would we be seen as enemies of the state in the eyes of the instigators? I heard a humorous joke once, that if a Ruthenian was locked in a room with a Year 217 Mafia member¡ªlike Li, or the Don¡ªand a Metropolitan soldier, with nothing but a pistol and bullet in the chamber, the Ruthenian would shoot the Aussie with no hesitation. But I know better than to believe such nonsense. I¡¯ve met and befriended a certain busty redhead with a mess of freckles. An individual who knows that there is trouble in this big dysfunctional family that we call the Federation of Sol. A blimey bloke if there ever was one, but one that came out of her way to attend a foreign¡ªand maybe hostile¡ªenvironment so far away from home. It¡¯s like stepping into a portal into another reality, Alexa once said, to experience what it¡¯s like to live in a place of peace and harmony. And yet, when given the chance, Alexa would hesitate to emigrate to Terra and live a peaceful life. She couldn¡¯t possibly live with herself knowing that her homeland is as perilous as ever¡­ especially now¡ªwe¡¯re merely a few demonstrations away from a full-fledged revolution as if it isn¡¯t one at this very moment. This all feels like a fever dream. Yet, these are facts, events that are unfolding before our lives. And yet, we have to confront these issues in the future. And that is what terrifies me¡ªwhat gives me the chills. My train of thoughts is intruded upon when I find myself lurching forward in my seat. It¡¯s a sudden jerk, but I don''t budge much due to the freeloader resting on my lap. Before I have time to process what''s happening, there''s another intense rocking of the vessel¡ªa bit more violently this time. I am certain I hear what sounds like the scrapping of metal, sending me¡ªand even the others¡ªinto a state of mild panic. Barely a moment passes before there is yet again an aggressive thrashing of the shuttle. I can simply feel my body mass be pulled around, and for possibly the first time I am glad that Friederika is such a heavy cow of a person. I could not say the same for the other passengers, though, some of which are thrown from their seats¡ªa valid justification to wear these dreadful seat belts if there ever was one. What I didn¡¯t account for, though, is Friederika bolting up to head-butt me with her thick, fat skull. ¡°Huh¡ªwhat¡¯s going on?¡± Friederika murmurs, absentmindedly staring me down as she rubs her saliva slash dried tears slash what remains of her black makeup smeared across half her face. ¡°Oh,¡± she continues, eyeing me down ¡°I guess that explains why my head suddenly hurts so much.¡± ¡°I take it for granted that you have a bloody dense head,¡± I answer wryly, rubbing my chin to no avail. Ignoring Friederika¡¯s protest of the comment, I glance across the aisle at Mazzareli, who is quick to awaken from his power nap and did happen to be properly strapped in, and is already swift in making his way to the overhead drum leading into the cockpit. Mazzareli peers into the drum¡ªbut backs off shortly before the upper body of a figure pops into view from it, seemingly dangling from the looks of thick straps falling around him. ¡°Sorry about that, sir!¡± The pilot says, trying to keep his helmet visor on to no avail¡ªit clatters to the floor, revealing brown, fuzzy afro-like hair. He beams a smile, eyeing the whole compartment in front of him. ¡°Still a bit of a new pilot, you see¡­¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Mazzareli answers, pinching his nose bridge, ¡°I can see that we were this close to being engulfed in a fiery inferno¡ªand possibly taking the Yilan out with us. I¡¯m sure that a reckless maneuver inside a space filled with explosive material will cause the defense department to save face by unceremoniously writing off the Yilan as a casualty of Entebbe.¡± Even if it is the Lieutenant Commander¡¯s feeble attempt at dry humor, I can¡¯t help but struggle with clearing a phantom thorn in my throat. Part of me really wishes that we did get Yuri as a pilot. Consequently, it makes me wonder if Yuri¡¯s comment on the lack of experienced pilots among both pilots was too spot-on¡­ ¡°If what Yuri says is true,¡± Friederika of all people muses, ¡°having such a lack of trained pilots readily available would be sort of disastrous for Thunderbolt, wouldn¡¯t it?¡± It leaves me to wonder if the Admiral is aware of this, too. ¡°Not only Thunderbolt¡­ if we¡¯re ever forced to rely on wired communications through shuttles¡­ I can¡¯t see things ending too well in the thick of the fighting.¡± It¡¯s a concerning thought, but even so, I doubt it would compel him to rearrange or even delay the timetable for either part of Entebbe. In the eyes of the Admiral, I wonder, Entebbe would be now or never. ¡°Considering good ol¡¯ DeRyck has authorized the use of Francien civvies,¡± I remark ¡°there¡¯s bound to be a few who will offer themselves up as pilot volunteers, I¡¯m sure they¡¯re more than eager to help their homeland in whatever way they can, even in positions like that.¡± Though, as much as I detest that rotten Hoffman¡­ he does make a valid point about civilian training and readjusting to military regulations. Could it just be wishful thinking, I wonder? As I dwell on the subject, Friederika nods with a grave frown, continuing (fruitlessly) to wipe away the dried chocolate brown smear cemented to her face. It¡¯s a goofy sight, and I wish I had a camera to commemorate the moment. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. While I¡¯m conversing with Friederika, I lose track of Mazzareli¡¯s interaction with the pilot. But what snaps me back to focus is the patting and slight pushing by the other passengers as everyone gathers their bearings and pushes against the crowd. ¡°Come on, get a move on,¡± Mazzareli shouts from the back, ¡°both ramps are open¡ªslow and steadily, no need to push!¡± With my sweaty hands clasped firmly around Friederika, I guide the two of us out of the shuttle, readjusting to the overwhelming brightness of the shuttle bay. But that¡¯s not the only thing that overpowers my senses. There¡¯s an overpowering smell that makes me nearly gag¡ªand it¡¯s utterly unpleasant, almost like the stench of gasoline. I remember the time my old man and I went fishing and he had to cancel it because of a leak in the artificial river we planned our trip around. The fact that I¡¯m even remembering this now so many years later can only possibly mean one thing. ¡°Crikey,¡± Friederika mutters, ¡°we rammed into some fuel canisters?¡± While pinching my nose, I follow her gaze at a team of logistic support carefully hauling away spilled over energy rods that are leaking¡­ concerning liquids. Some of it is splashed against our shuttle, where some crew work carefully rubbing it off. If it had gotten any closer to the engines, we¡¯d probably all be dust right about now. What a horrifying thought. Glancing at the anxiously laughing pilot, I can imagine that it is a court-martial for later. Needless to say, most of the staff officers are quick to book it, leaving behind only a few stragglers like Mazzareli. The Lieutenant Commander concludes giving the pilot a stern scolding and approaches the two of us, and I stiffen up before realizing it. ¡°Listen¡ªat ease, you two, but listen,¡± Mazzareli starts, but before he gets the chance to do so lieutenant Plotte presents himself with a salute and addresses Mazzareli. ¡°Plotte?¡± ¡°That was quite the nasty entry your chap did there,¡± Prince remarks, stealing glances at the two of us, ¡°the Yilan would¡¯ve been a goner for sure if the shuttle so much as capsized¡­ I do wonder why the pilot didn¡¯t simply stop to connect with the Yilan outside? Would¡¯ve saved us time and trouble cleaning up this new mess¡ªthis is something I¡¯d expect if something like Friederika or even Victoria were at the helm.¡± ¡°Hey!¡± Friederika says, pursing her lips together. ¡°I¡¯m hardly a bad pilot, you know?¡± ¡°Arcade simulations do not count in the slightest,¡± Prince retorts, folding his arms, ¡°well¡­ I do say that, but I recall Yuri saying our little blond lieutenant here did an incredible job handling the botched missile that struck our starboard that one time, so I suppose I can¡¯t discredit them too much. Anyways, sub-lieutenant Trachenberg¡­ lieutenant Happ-Schwarzenberger¡­ judging from the way the two of you look like messes, I¡¯m taking it the little picnic to the Trinidad wasn¡¯t all rainbow and sunshine?¡± A sly smile from Prince as he finishes, then his gaze shifts to the Lieutenant Commander. ¡°Let¡¯s just say that our beloved Happ here has landed herself in particularly hot waters,¡± Mazzareli says wryly, ¡°and the responsibility of giving her corporal punishment falls on me¡­ but as for what that punishment entails, exactly, is something I am still deciding on,¡± my stomach twists at those words, and I rub my stomach¡ªwhich growls uncomfortably loud, accompanied by an even louder howl from the dark-haired gremlin adjacent me. ¡°Oh, do tell,¡± Prince muses, his arms resting behind his back, ¡°but before we do that¡­ I take it you will want your report on the Yilan while you were gone.¡± ¡°Ideally, yes,¡± Mazzareli says with a sigh, ¡°I simply cannot go one place without there being a commotion elsewhere. I cannot for the life of me understand how Buttermilch tolerated this crew for so long. It surely takes the patience of a god to keep everything from falling apart¡­ speaking of which, I take it the issue with the marines and Frankish sailors in the mess hall was resolved without issue?¡± Prince gives a nod, and gestures for Mazzareli to follow him into one of the hallways. ¡°Right, I¡¯ll give you a rundown on the way to the bridge¡ªit¡¯s not too urgent, but getting it out of the way and getting the crew up to speed will be important. I¡¯m curious about the details of the operation that the Admiral has been keeping under wraps.¡± ¡°It is concerning, indeed¡­ and my apologies for laying such herculean responsibilities on you, Lieutenant,¡± Mazzareli says. He turns to leave after Prince but stops to face us. He stares us down seemingly for what seems like ages, but deflates with a sigh and turns to face us fully. ¡°Vick, Friederika¡­ please stay out of trouble in the meantime. I imagine our brigs must be overcrowded by now, and I would hate for you to pay a second visit to the brig so soon.¡± ¡°Hm?¡± Prince rests a hand on his chin, ¡°am I to assume that the worst has come to frustration? I would sure hope that my younger brother¡¯s sweetheart didn¡¯t do anything irrational¡­ like punch the daylights out of a superior officer¡ªin front of the whole fleet¡¯s chiefs of staff. That would project a very poor image of the Yilan, I wager.¡± I clear my throat, clutching my chest as I speak. Prince¡¯s assumption cuts deeper than I¡¯d hope it would. ¡°U-um¡­ Mazzy, does that mean that I won¡¯t face severe punishment for my misconduct on the Trinidad?¡± We¡¯ve gone over this a few times already, but it makes me feel so uneasy. It¡¯s like I¡¯m getting special treatment simply for being the daughter of my old man. If it was anyone else that lashed out at Hoffman, the outcome would be night and day¡­ Mazzareli is silent for a moment before he clears his throat; from behind him, a single bead of sweat rolls down Prince¡¯s temple. ¡°Lieutenant Plotte,¡± Mazzareli muses, ¡°from where did this bad habit of Happ originate from, I wonder? There¡¯s only one person present among us that would know better than to blabber around a name like that so carelessly. And there¡¯s only one specific individual who is also,¡± Mazzareli sighs heavily, ¡°how should I say this? Even more by the books regarding proper addressing of officers by their rank and surnames¡­¡± ¡°Maz¡ª¡° Prince bites down on his lip, an intense glance at me, ¡°it was merely a slip of the tongue is all, sir,¡± Prince says in a cool, calm voice. With a professional air of coolness, he wipes the lone bead with precision before Mazzareli can turn around, a soft scoff¡ªa chuckle, rather. Mazzareli rubs his temples and takes a few steps to Prince before turning part way to face Friederika and me again. ¡°No, Victoria. For now, I want you to reflect on your actions and avoid confrontations with any military police. I imagine once word gets out, they¡¯ll want to bully you into the brig in the name of instilling discipline.¡± ¡°Well,¡± I say wryly, ¡°I¡¯d like to see them try.¡± It¡¯s a bold statement that even Friederika glances at me with bafflement, then back at Mazzareli, as if to wonder if she¡¯ll be dragged into this as an accessory to the crime. ¡°In all seriousness though,¡± Prince interjects, ¡°please refrain from giving me any more headaches than what I¡¯ve dealt with. Those Francien chaps have caused me a great deal of misery in terms of police manpower and migraine tablets. If I have to hear one more case of a golden brat suplexing a battalion of MP¡ªagain, might I add, I think I actually get a brain aneurysm.¡± ¡°You know,¡± I remark, ¡°you seem fixated on aneurysms quite a bit, Prince¡­ maybe you should get that checked out before it does become a problem?¡± I smile weakly, even though Prince stares me down far too intently, ¡°just a thought. If we were to lose a hard-working individual such as yourself, the Yilan would have so much more to mourn¡ªit¡¯d fall directly into anarchy, I¡¯d say.¡± ¡°Mate,¡± Friederika hisses, pinching me on the side. Mazzareli smiles, shaking his head as he leaves ahead of Prince. Prince wagers a finger at me with a nasty squint before dropping his hand and shrugging. ¡°EnSIGN Happ,¡± Prince begins¡ªor at least I thought he would. Prince crosses his arms and glances back at Mazzareli. ¡°Listen¡­ I¡¯ll tell my security chief to advise any vigilance against you over any issue that may have arisen over on the Trinidad,¡± Prince sighs, reaching to caress his overly wrinkled brow, ¡°that¡¯s the least I can do¡­ rather or not any will obey my orders is another issue entirely. That¡¯s about as much as I can hope to do until the situation with the eccentric Franks settles down. I just ask that you uphold your part and¡­ I¡¯m being serious, do not have an explosive outburst attacking any superiors.¡± ¡°As usual, Prince, I can¡¯t hold a promise so easily,¡± I say meekly, lightly grinning as I stroke my bangs. At this point, I¡¯ve certainly inconvenienced a lot of people. Prince raises a finger to object but instead takes his cap off to rustle his hair. He exhales heavily through his nostrils before he begins to speak. ¡°Right¡­¡± Prince utters, ¡°behaving aside¡­ sub-lieutenant Trachenberg.¡± I expect Friederika to stiffen up with a gasp, but she seems too exhausted to do even that now. She merely nods and holds my hand in silence. ¡°You look like you didn¡¯t handle a breakup very well in the slightest¡ªyou too, as well, Happ, but more so in the way that you look like you¡¯re going to burst into tears any moment now¡­ Trachenberg, if it¡¯s not too much to ask of you, I suggest you go clean yourself up before any ill-intentioned rumors spread around the ship of Trachenberg parting ways with her beloved Happ-Schwarzenberger.¡± Who the bloody hell does this guy think he is, sprouting such terrible nonsense like that? Well, glancing at Friederika and stroking her soft hair, his impression isn¡¯t too far off in her case. ¡°Well do, Lieutenant,¡± Friederika says weakly. We salute as Prince does an about-face and jolts off to join Mazzareli. I have an urge to call him out for being a hypocrite for breaking his own rules, but I refrain from wanting to cause him any further migraines. He has enough to deal with already with Mazzareli. ¡°I think I¡¯m going to take Prince¡¯s suggestion and get washed up,¡± Friederika says after the air of silence subsides, ¡°and after that, I¡¯ll head to the mess hall to get some grub¡­ you¡¯re more than free to stop by my room too if you want.¡± ¡°Depends, am I going to get a boot to the face again? I think that¡¯ll leave a mark nastier than your face right now,¡± I answer. Friederika trying to suppress a smirk is more than enough to bring me back to spirits if only a little. What a little clown she looks like right now. ¡°I think¡­ I want some time for myself right now,¡± I say, letting loose a heavy breath as I take my garrison cap off to roll golden bangs through my fingers. ¡°I hope you don¡¯t mind, Kiki¡­ mainly, I want to, um¡­ pay Buttermilch a visit.¡± When I glance at Friederika, she seems a little sad, but she is quick to mask it with a grin. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡­¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s fine, mate,¡± Friederika says, casually slapping me on the back. ¡°That does seem like a very Victorian thing for you to do. After all, Mazzy there did say for you to reflect on your actions, right?¡± A sly smile ¡°we can meet up in the mess hall later. I remember Margot and her team started making tons of these hand-crafted lunch boxes earlier, I think around the time we left for the Trinidad. She really went all out this time around¡­ she got hold of special ingredients unique to the northern Frankish Domains¡­ some crispy kangaroo sausage rolls, grilled salmon, chopped squid, oh! And even marinated¡ª¡° ¡°I think I get it, stop it before you start making my mouth water anymore¡± I stay jabbing Friederika on the forehead. ¡°Blimey, I almost want to skip out on moping around to eat there now. Would she still even have any left now, I wonder?¡± Friederika ponders for a moment, but shrugs. ¡°With all the riots happening over there, you¡¯d think she would even have some leftovers for us, I wonder?¡± Margot likes the two of us after all. I¡¯m surprised she didn¡¯t drag us there herself or even delegate someone to bring us specialized lunch. Well¡­ I imagine she would¡¯ve been having boxing matches with those crazy Franks in her domain to bother risking her mess hall getting trashed to smithereens. ¡°Maybe?¡± Friederika muses, a shrug, ¡°if I finish up and get there in time, I¡¯ll try to save you one. Unless¡­ you know, you wanted to go there right now.¡± I retort, ¡°I¡¯m sure if we went there as-is, you¡¯d definitely scare all the opposite sex with your sorry excuse for a face.¡± Friederika only scoffs, uncharacteristically being careful wiping her face with a handkerchief. ¡°Suit yourself mate,¡± her smirk turns into a slight frown, ¡°try not to take too long, okay? I¡¯m sure Margot would hate to see her food turn cold, you know.¡± We remain quiet for a while, unsure if either of us wants to break apart after all. Friederika opens her mouth to add something, but she smiles instead and gives me one intense crushing hug before she slowly backs off, and heads out of the station. With a long, deep breath, I rub my somewhat wet eyes¡ªtrue to what Prince said, I do feel extremely miserable still¡ªand unwind a long exhale. No punishment in mind now, but instead reflect on your actions. That¡¯s what Mazzareli said¡­ I guess he must have figured out that I would visit Buttermilch. I don¡¯t know if it is the best thing to do¡­ all it will do is further cause me to wallow deeper in regret. But I suppose it is better to get it out of my system now than later. Omake [New Years 2022]
In a different time, in a different place¡­
This outfit doesn¡¯t fit me. Hmmm, nope. It definitely does not fit me in the slightest. No matter how many times I watch the blonde in the mirror move her hips around, slapping her waist or adjusting the sleeves of her qipao. This is irritating, frustrating, annoying. Why did I agree to this? Why did I get roped into this nonsense? ¡°And most of all,¡± I lament, ¡°why this color?!¡± The aggressive flapping of my skirt. It¡¯s peachy, with a coral green flower pattern over the abdomen. I wanted to choose one that was darker, something that was closer to a velvet purple. But this, and shaking the frontal skirt again, which barely conceals my thighs, is frustratingly ugly. But, I can¡¯t hate it too much. Li picked it out for me, and I didn¡¯t want to hurt her feelings so I went along with it. But now, oh¡ªcrikey¡­ I feel like I¡¯m regretting life choices. And as I wonder on that thought, shaking my head and sighing¡ªsomething cold rests on my hips. ¡°Now now, Vicky,¡± the incomprehensible dialect of the towering Olga gives me goosebumps. I still can¡¯t get over how¡­ masculine Olga¡¯s voice is. When I first met Olga and even now, I¡¯m convinced that she reminds me of a supporting character of some tactical espionage visual novel I played a few years ago¡­ though it felt more like a movie, given its unprecedented amount of unskippable cutscenes. ¡°It does not look too bad on you,¡± Olga continues. I move to the side to give Olga some space in the mirror view, and she¡¯s more than happy to accept the invitation¡­ a little too chummy, I think. She gently rubs my shoulders, her cold prosthetic and warm hands slowly rubbing more of my arms. I expect her to grope me any moment now, but she seems to be mindful. I¡¯ve found, to be honest, that Olga is pretty touchy-feely at times. She literally can¡¯t seem to stop touching the other girls. She can get ballsy, too. On some occasions, Olga likes to try and mingle with Alexa despite the fiery redhead not-so-politely asking her to keep her hands at her side. And then there¡¯s Vinnie, who¡¯s even somehow more vicious than Alexa. Of course, Li pays no mind to it. But whenever I glance at her she does disapprove of Olga¡¯s actions with silent pouting objections. But she tries to play it off whenever I take notice. ¡°I think it¡¯s quite lovely,¡± Olga continues. ¡°It matches your hair, no?¡± She reaches with her prosthetic hand to sort of curl and play with my bangs a little. The texture of her fingertips leaves me chilly nonetheless. From behind the holographic mirror, emerges a wild Friederika. ¡°Well, I¡¯ll give this bloke one thing¡ªit does look good on you!¡± Exerts Friederika. She also has a qipao¡ªas do most of the female staff. Hers¡ªand this surprises me even now¡ªis conservative like Li¡¯s¡ªit leaves more to the imagination compared to mine. I would say this is probably only because Friederika doesn¡¯t have a figure like mine. Friederika is almost as skinny as Olga here, but not quite. Speaking of which, Friederika is not amused in the slightest. When Friederika pops out, she huffs air through her nostrils; a pout if there ever was one. And maybe I¡¯m imaging it, but it almost looks like there are cracks on the holographic panel, as if she is gripping a little too hard¡ªso even if that is the case, it¡¯s subtle. If I didn¡¯t know any better I¡¯d say she¡¯s fuming. Before I or Olga react, Friederika jumps out from the panel and grabs me by the wrist¡ªmy world spins¡ªbriefly recollecting my surroundings. I¡¯m staring at a surprised but amused Olga. Friederika hugs me intently as if I¡¯m the most precious thing in the world to her. Maybe a little too intently¡ªand I guess what Friederika makes up for in poor athletics, she makes up with her hidden gremlin strength. It practically rivals that of Alexandra¡¯s. Anyway, why do I feel like I¡¯m in the midst of a custody battle? Olga and Friederika stare each other down so intensely that if I didn¡¯t know any better, an electric spark would materialize between the two. And what else is sandwiched between them? This poor little blonde, already suffocating from the overwhelming tightness of this dress. It would be an understatement to say I¡¯m in a bit of a pickle¡ªin more ways than one. If these two crushing me with their bodies don¡¯t kill me, this dress will. Honestly, what even is with these two? I can¡¯t even comprehend why they are fighting in the first place. Let alone fighting over me of all people, it makes no sense. Well, I mean¡­ Things change gears, though, the moment a certain cool, scar-faced raven-haired mistress strolls into the changing room humming to herself. Li must¡¯ve just arrived because she still has the black leather jacket hanging off her shoulders, her brown gloves slowly coming off. When she realizes the room¡¯s atmosphere Li pauses, giving us a passing glance before passing us by with a displeasing sigh. In tow are a few of her buddies¡ªSimon? And that Brute or Bryce or whatever the chap¡¯s name is because I¡¯ve never bothered being acquainted with him too much. Neither of them tries to pay us any mind, but Brute or Bruce or whatever his bloody name is can¡¯t help but chuckle. Olga unexpectedly backs off from Friederika and I to follow the trio¡ªor Li, I guess, in this case. But whatever the case it¡¯s a literal breath of air for me. But this qipao is still tight and makes it uncomfortable to even breathe in though. ¡°The nerve of that lousy woman!¡± Friederika sneers. I guess someone like Friederika can get pretty defensive too, for some reason. It¡¯s rare for her to get mad¡­ but I do wish she and Olga would at least have the decency of getting along sometimes. Seriously, I have no idea what compels these two to be so catty when they happen to be in the same room for more than a second. And it¡¯s not even with me half the time¡ªit could over anything. What strikes me as even odder is Friederika is a total darling when she¡¯s with Bryan or¡ªagh, whatever. ¡°It¡¯s almost a new year, mate,¡± I say, ¡°would it kill you to at least try and get along with her as a new year¡¯s resolution?¡± Friederika ponders the question, but crosses her arms under her breasts and frowns. Hmph! Well, I should¡¯ve expected better. To my surprise, though, Friederika relaxes, and she has a sly smirk glancing at the doorway Olga left through. ¡°Well¡­¡± Friederika starts ¡°wouldn¡¯t hurt to try, right? I mean, she¡¯s not a bad person so to say¡­¡± ¡°Other than the fact that she¡¯s trying to grope us every hot minute, you mean,¡± I interrupt, and Friederika can¡¯t help but laugh. Olga is only this way when Li isn¡¯t around, mostly. It is exceptionally rare not to see the two at the hip, at least when Olga can¡¯t help it. It¡¯s no secret Olga likes Li dearly, but it¡¯s also absolutely not a white elephant that Olga cannot for the life of her be affectionate with other girls¡­ other than Alexandra and Vinnie, that is. Try as she might, Olga could never lay a finger on either of them. ¡°New year¡¯s resolutions, huh?¡± Friederika muses, pacing the room. She stops and turns to me, ¡°yeah¡­ huh, I guess I could make that mine,¡± she twirls her finger in a circular motion, ¡°getting along better with Olga without it resulting in me getting molested in some way.¡± ¡°That sounds like an impossible task, but I wish you all the luck,¡± I answer slyly. Friederika only scoffs. This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. ¡°What about you, love?¡± Friederika asks, plopping down her heavy bum on the table next to me, letting her legs kick freely. ¡°You never were the one to have these, come to think of it.¡± ¡°You could say that,¡± I say, a hidden scoff escaping my lips. I lean against the table that I feel could break under Friederika¡¯s weight any moment and ponder what my resolution would be. In the past, all of mine have usually been to wake up earlier and make the most of my mornings, but one year after another it never pans out. Mum always wished mine would too because it became a common routine to practically splash water on me at times. I love her, but she can be evil sometimes. ¡°The only thing you can think of is not sleeping on days off, innit?¡± Friederika muses. ¡°Can¡¯t think of a thing, I think the only thing I can think of is¡ªoh, you bloody rat,¡± I say, groaning at Friederika correctly assuming what my new year¡¯s resolutions would be. ¡°Well, it¡¯s not it¡¯s common for people to go through with them¡ªtheir resolutions I mean,¡± Friederika says, ¡°I can say for sure that yeah, you are right, it will be a challenge to be chummy with Olga over there,¡± she points at the trio coming back from their changing rooms. Slightly embarrassed, Friederika continues what she is saying, ¡°er¡­ but it¡¯ll be something I¡¯ll try nonetheless.¡± But even as Friederika says such a cool thing, I can¡¯t help but focus on the two men wearing bunny suits that I despicably wish I could unsee but the most I can do is make the situation less awkward by averting my gaze from theirs. As absolutely disturbing as it is, we do occasionally get female patrons so some diversity, the manager argued, is necessary ¡®to spice things up¡¯. If I were in their shoes, though, I¡¯d rather just die on the spot immediately. The manager is a cruel person with unethical and unusual punishments. But hey, business is a business. Li sees her chaps off. Friederika gives me one last smiling glance as she hops off to head into the lobby with the others. But before she can, Li stops her for a brief chat¡ªand once they finish, waves the latter off. Li leans against the wall, peering outside with a slight smile. ¡°Not going to join them?¡± I ask, grabbing Li¡¯s attention. She grimaces, rubbing her scar, deliberating for a moment before joining me by the table, her weight more against my shoulder than the table. ¡°I imagine it¡¯s going to be quite busy out there today¡­ usually you throw yourself into the thick of work, you know?¡± ¡°Never mind that,¡± Li answers, ¡°how does the dress feel? I kept thinking on the way back that you wouldn¡¯t like it¡ªyou did mention that it looked sort of small when I picked it out.¡± Oh boy, I guess this is her way of getting straight to the point. ¡°I should¡¯ve changed your mind and had you put on the other one¡­ the hazy one, right?¡± Her eyes wince as she tries to purse her lips. ¡°Sounds like it¡¯s been weighing too much on your mind,¡± I say ¡°maybe a little too much.¡± Li is quiet for a bit, her breathing heavy on my shoulder. Li¡¯s shoulders sag. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have forced you to wear the outfit,¡± Li mumbles, ¡°I know you¡¯re just playing along for my sake. I should¡¯ve asked for your honest opinion on it¡­ you were just trying to¡­ er, what is it I¡¯m looking for¡ªprotect my feelings?¡± Oh, blimey. ¡°Close, it¡¯s more like¡ªuh, shoot,¡± I stammer, ¡°I think the phrase you¡¯re looking for is¡­ well, my mind is shooting blanks right now but that¡¯s beside the point!¡± I retort, shifting my leg around to face her, ¡°Olga says it goes along with my hair¡ªKiki does too. They might butt heads over things but it¡¯s rare for them to agree on something. But¡­ I don¡¯t think they¡¯re wrong. It¡¯s pretty, it¡¯s just¡ªI think it¡¯s a little too tight¡ªokay it is a little ugly.¡± Li frowns, biting down on her lip. She averts her eyes from mine, but I reach to cup her cheeks. ¡°It¡¯s ugly,¡± I say, ¡°so damn lucky I¡¯ll tell ya. It¡¯s also so ugly and so tight it¡¯s like a corset¡ªI can barely draw enough hair not to feel lightheaded.¡± ¡°I think I get it, Ve-toria,¡± Li mumbles in a husk voice. She tries to pull my arms away, but I only get closer and caress her cheeks¡ªresting my forehead against hers. ¡°But you know, if it was anyone else who picked it out, I wouldn¡¯t bother putting it on,¡± Li fights to keep her eyes averted from mine, her breathing gets sort of troubled. It does make me feel a little heart wretched, but I don¡¯t want her to take it the wrong way at all. ¡°You picked it out for me, and as much as it pains me, wearing something from you gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling under all this suffocation.¡± Li loses the battle in looking away, and the two of us lock eyes for what seems like forever. ¡°Er¡­ I think what I mean to say, Li, the gift itself doesn¡¯t matter. It¡¯s who it¡¯s from that matters the most, right?¡± Li¡¯s lips twitch, but she gives in with a winced smile¡ªrather from the scar or the truth, I don¡¯t know. ¡°Thank you, Ve-toria,¡± Li says softly, rubbing my hands. ¡°Say, Li, what would your resolution for the new year be?¡± I ask, Li¡¯s eyes widen for a moment before chuckling it off. ¡°My resolution, I wonder,¡± Li answers. She¡¯s quiet for a long time, looking away to ponder the abrupt question. She smiles knowing the ache she faces, again stroking my hands. ¡°I want to remain faithful to this practice of being with you and the others,¡± she says each word carefully, our cheeks burning red with utterance. ¡°And what about you¡­ love?¡± I reply, ¡°well, I can forget about actual necessities like getting better sleep or not keeping my room tidy like a civilized being. Honestly, I think I have two: mine mirrors yours, and most importantly it¡¯s not to be coerced into wearing dresses smaller than me from cool, mysterious raven ladies.¡± I expect to laugh it off, but she only frowns. ¡°What? I¡¯m only teasing¡­¡± ¡°Is the qipao really that small?¡± Li asks, sighing, ¡°you won¡¯t hurt my feelings if you want to wear the other one, Ve-toria¡­¡± I squeeze her arms before I interject. ¡°Li, love, it¡¯s ok,¡± I say, ¡°it¡¯s just awfully bloody tight around the chest¡ªthat¡¯s all. I can bear with it,¡± I say. Li doesn¡¯t seem convinced¡ªand I¡¯m only partially lying, so if she were to call my semi-bluff, I couldn¡¯t hide that from her. It marginally hurts, mate. I let Li go so that she can shrug. ¡°Suit yourself,¡± Li responds. She reaches behind her and grabs one of the trays we use for drinks. ¡°I will do my best to respect this personal goal of yours¡ª¡° ¡°Which one?¡± I ask ¡°there¡¯s two, remember that,¡± Li eyes me like I¡¯m a lunatic. She tilts her head, our eyes interlocking, a smile. ¡°Both of them,¡± she answers. ¡°But first, you have a job to do upfront. I will not allow slacking when I have the floor.¡± ¡°This seems like less of a promise and more of a threat if I don¡¯t do a good enough job,¡± I say wryly. Li leads the way to the door, holding it open for the two of us. It¡¯s awfully ruckus outside, and until now I feel grateful for the thickness of these walls. ¡°I suppose it can be if you wish to look at it that way,¡± Li answers. She holds the drink tray with her other hand, smiling a little too smugly for my liking to remain at the table. I get up and take the tray from her, heading out into the lobby where it¡¯s the busiest I¡¯ve seen in a long time. Our lovely maid and butler waitresses scurry around delivering drinks and deserts. Among the chaos I spot Alexandra, in an explosively red qipao unleashing a bottle of wine into a rowdy patron¡¯s face, sending the poor chap crashing into the table. The crowd roars with laughter as Alexandra ever so casually helps him up. I share a glance with Li, happy to know that everyone is enjoying themselves on this lovely new years eve. ¡°Everyone!¡± I shout, lifting the tray high into the air. ¡°I hope everyone is having a lovely new years¡¯ tonight!¡± The responses are overwhelming hurrahs, stomping feet, and clattering of glasses, ¡°this hardy year may be over but our youthful spirit is everlasting! Come, let us make this a night to remember at the Will-of-the-Rose!¡± It¡¯s going to be a long night. And there is nothing I could enjoy more with Li and the others by my side. Chapter 99: Embers of Ishtar | Through the Gauntlet | Part 1 - MacKenzie It''s funny, standing here now in front of the very metallic door¡ªsimplistic in nature, but has left a lasting impact on my life and indirectly affected countless others in the fleet. Or rather, I want to say, futile attempts to prevent an unprecedented disaster¡ªyet I achieved it, although not in the way I expected or wanted any of it to go. I wonder how many times it makes it now, mentally preparing myself for a confrontation with my past doings? Debating, wondering if my actions will trickle up the chain of command. I raise a tense fist to the door, intending to knock. Of course, there is no need to do so. It''s an officer quarter that has been left vacant ever since Buttermilch¡¯s passing. There will be no disgruntled CO to receive me, grumbling for me to come in through this thick, steel door. There won''t be a raven-hair beauty to unexpectedly open the door and back me to the wall, as exciting as that sounds. Just the memory of it is enough to make my chest throb. Of course, there is none of that. There is only the cold air tickling through the collar to my neck, and my chest fluttering from my imagination going wild. Without wasting any time, I open the door and step inside the office¡ªan immediate baking of heat seemingly blasts me as the air is released from the sealed-off room. The heat is so particular that it makes me stumble back in shock. I don¡¯t need to caress my face to know it¡¯s as humid as an average Straya summer. I can''t help but scoff. It doesn¡¯t matter how many times I stop by here because I can''t help but criticize the former CO for his poor distaste for the muted colors of his quarters. I''ve said it before, but the former quarters of Buttermilch leaves the impression of stepping into a different world. If there is one of dozens of the regrets I harbor, it would be not asking Buttermilch if he had a say in the decor. I wouldn''t have a single doubt in my mind that he was displeased with it, or if he had, indeed, any say in the matter. ¡°It¡¯s been a while, hasn¡¯t it, sir?¡± I whisper, closing the door behind me. I¡¯ve only visited twice since we left Toscana¡ªonce to mope in here, and the second time to collect some of his literature. But other than that, the place is a bloody mess. It¡¯s not that Mazzareli or even Prince forbid anyone from coming in here, it¡¯s simply that most just didn¡¯t out of consideration. Frankly, and I failed to realize this at the time with Li¡ªbut the cabin room is in total disarray¡ªanything that wasn¡¯t furniture was knocked over, like most of Buttermilch¡¯s collection of literature, and little things like folders and other paperwork. Interestingly, only one of the bottles on his drinking cart was spilled¡ªsome of it stains the cherry-red carpet and honey-like wood paneling, giving both darker, purplish stains. I take another deep sigh, and I shuffle around to some of the books and folders lying about. After Mazzareli assumed command, he took what was impartial to the Yilan and left the rest to Friederika and I¡­ which are mostly his large literacy materials. I¡¯ve gathered a considerable amount in my room wall racks, but there¡¯s still a whopping amount left that I¡¯ve left behind here. Kneeling and glancing around to collect some of these, I can¡¯t help but feel guilty that Friederika is right after all. Maybe Buttermilch would be disapproving of how I handled his personal belongings. I told myself that having it part of my organized mess was a way to honor his memory¡­ but the guilt runs through my spine picking up a few of these, and I can¡¯t bring myself to even smirk at my rudeness. ¡°I can just imagine it now, Buttermilch,¡± I mutter, gathering a few and stacking them on the table. ¡°You must be rolling at the speed of light just wondering how I of all people inherited your collection, huh?¡± I smirk with a scoff. There¡¯s no reason for me to be here. Friederika should¡¯ve talked me out of me; she should¡¯ve forced me to come along to the canteen. But she didn¡¯t, and here I am, reveling in this sinking regret. But I feel if I don¡¯t come here and let out my remorse, it¡¯ll only make living with the guilt worse as time goes on. I needed to come here to get it out of my system¡ªjust as Buttermilch invited me to his quarters after the Malabo meeting, I feel it would be appropriate to come here to bring some closure. Closure¡­ that¡¯s one way of putting it, I guess. Buttermilch failed to keep our promise of averting a disaster from snowballing, so maybe it¡¯s only appropriate that I come here to let my former Commander know that he can rest easy. I came here, guilt-ridden, running through the gauntlet to deliver some good news of what I¡¯ve done. Did Buttermilch feel this way upon returning from the Malabo staff meeting, I wonder? Did he feel immense guilt over being potentially responsible for so many lives being lost? Did he feel more at ease after telling me his life¡¯s mission of wanting to forge a better leadership for the navy, capable of making rational decisions despite directives? ¡°I can only wonder,¡± I tell myself. A mere scoff escapes my lips. Running through the gauntlet, huh? When I put it that way, raking myself through memory lane does hurt. If I don¡¯t get it out of my system now¡ªif I don¡¯t compel myself to get sliced and stabbed through these awful, sharp memories, through these terrible nightmares which keep me up at night and remind me of the actions we took, even running, pointlessly, the Toscana simulations repeatedly¡­ then I¡¯d never rest easy. Buttermilch would not be able to rest easy, either. I head to the other side of the office desk to sit on the cushy chair, hunching over and ruffling my golden locks of hair repeatedly. ¡°I can only wonder,¡± I mutter again, leaning back into the cushioned chair at the gray, emotionless ceiling. The light is blinding, of course, and I sit straight after the strain subsides. ¡°Back then, I declined your offer to sit down¡­ I thought¡­ I felt it was necessary to give this vibe that I was a strong person. And now look at me,¡± I slump in the chair slightly after a pause. With a lift of my hand, I make dashes on the table¡¯s surface, pushing the ashen dust blanketing it into built-up clumps. My hand hovers over the top drawer, unable to open it, unwilling to see what it holds. ¡°I¡¯m a total bloody mess,¡± I continue, ¡°the Toscana Heroine, Lucky Vicky¡­ can you believe they call me things like that, Buttermilch?¡± I ask the vacant attendee. If Friederika were here with me, she¡¯d scold me for being so down in the dumps. But how can I not be? I¡¯ve been telling myself¡ªa feeble attempt at prep talk¡ªthat I should be more high-spirited after leaving the Trinidad. There¡¯s no reason for me to be so mopey. I¡¯ve done now what I couldn¡¯t do then, after all, but is it worthy of a pat on the back? Is it really worth getting a double promotion over, and a Victorian¡¯s Cross on the corpses of so many? I couldn¡¯t save our allied Ides formation. I couldn¡¯t do a single bloody thing to save the brave personnel stranded, abandoned at the sister Malabo-Baltit Sides. I despise what the Commodore has done so far, and yet my success, in a strange twist of misfortune, has been accomplished literally off someone else¡¯s failure. I¡¯m certainly no better at this whole whopping honor and glory thing than that dreadful man. Saving the detachment heading for L¨¹beck was an accomplishment in itself. And even so¡­ I consider it all a fluke. No matter how many times I tell myself that Buttermilch shouldn¡¯t have died, it won¡¯t change anything. He¡¯s dead. The thousands I¡¯ve left to die at Ides are dead. The fighting force we left stranded will forever be labeled as killed or missing in action, never to return home to their loved ones¡ªto normal lives. I don¡¯t know how to cope with his death. I don¡¯t know if I could ever forgive myself for the lives I¡¯ve failed to protect. I don¡¯t know how to handle all this newfound, undeserved respect. I¡¯ve simply done what any other officer would¡¯ve likely done in my acting duties. A heavy sigh. Maybe I¡¯m wrong. Maybe forcing myself to flake through memory lane hoping to honor Buttermilch¡¯s memory and pay my respects does me more harm than good. My hard-earned victory at Trinidad? Hell, I can hardly call it such a thing. What could I have done better there than I have with making an amateur attempt at convincing Buttermilch to change the minds of the Commodore and his staff? I was unable to replicate what I could do there¡ªI had no time. It was all happening so fast then, standing in front of men with greater authority. Men who had time and tools at their disposal to calculate a proper simulation. People who are highly trained professionals with war games. The Admiral made his decisions on sound decision-making. He has every right to ignore my suggestions altogether. Send most if not all our ground forces to one crucial Side? It has almost no basis, other than a chance shot at knocking out Johnny and his chain of command. It¡¯s a risk with almost no calculations. At that point, I¡¯ve only reinforced the mindset that the Commodore¡¯s fleet is full of laughing stocks who think of their personnel as merely nothing but tools at their disposal. And that¡¯s all we truly are, tools of destruction. The entire point we were here, after all, was to keep an eye on the Franks¡ªand I¡¯m not even sure that¡¯s even the real reason we were here. Perhaps looking back on it now, it was merely a cover story for Ishtar-Terra? Or maybe it¡¯s the other way around? What would have happened if something went down in the Frankish Realms? If one of our dozen war simulations became a reality? Would the Commodore have what it takes to turn our guns on them? Would I be thrust into a situation where I would have to decide as I have at Malabo? It makes me uneasy. Knowing that I might have contributed more harm than good to operation Entebbe. Maybe it is for the best that the Admiral sticks to the original plan. Only time can tell, is what I want to tell myself. But it could mean the difference between several thousand killed or an easy victory. I would have far more blood on my hands than I would know what to do with. This strange reputation as Lucky Vicky would be gone instantaneously. My father¡¯s reputation would be tarnished. Could I look my father in the eye even after everything that I¡¯ve done so far? Maybe my old man was right. Maybe enlisting in the Metropolitan Navy was a bad idea back then. I should¡¯ve just taken his advice to follow his steps in SEATO. Another blow of hair through my golden bangs. Glancing at the timbering drawer. Maybe I have no right to come here after all. I hoped it would help relieve this lingering despair over my showers¡ªI wanted to feel more at ease. I wanted things off my chest. I found myself overcome with the need to reassure Buttermilch one last time that I made up for what happened over his regrets at Malabo. But in the end, I say, it has only made me feel worse¡ªempty, compared to when I stepped foot in the office. I reach for its handle¡ªa firm grip. It feels like it wouldn¡¯t budge at first like it would require a hearty pull. It probably hasn¡¯t been opened in months, I¡¯d wager. But the more I stare it down in this dim reddish room, the more my chest pounds. Something about this doesn¡¯t feel right. And so, I relent. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Buttermilch,¡± I whisper. ¡°I¡­ I guess I just wanted to get to know you better. I felt there is so much more I wanted to learn about you, so many things I have yet to learn. I figured the first step to that would¡¯ve been by letting it off my chest, but I can¡¯t be right about everything, can I? It only did me more harm than good.¡± I can only imagine his scoff as he shakes his shot glass. Brushing it off, telling me not to worry and get a good night¡¯s sleep. Of course, that is a scenario that will never happen. The man is long dead. Rotting away¡ªwell, kept in frozen suspension for burial back in Terra, along with the hundreds of other dead awaiting their final rest in peace. ¡°Well¡­ Buttermilch,¡± I say, getting up, ¡°even with all that said and one¡ªI feel if I stay any longer, your pale old ghost will come and haunt me¡ª¡° a cracking smirk ¡°shooing me out so you can relax in peace. Maybe¡­ I¡¯ll come by again eventually. But for now, it might be best to leave this place sealed off again,¡± getting up, a glance at the busy desk stacked to the brim with any number of scholarly and fictional materials. ¡°At least, until I get sick of catching up with all your volumes I have, then I¡¯ll come back for the others,¡± a meek smile. I take a few steps around the table¡ªand promptly flail around, trying to keep stabilized. I barely get any opportunity to realize the situation before I¡¯m forced to shield my head as I stumble to the floor, nearly knocking myself unconscious against the hardwood. Whole stacks of paper crash beside me¡ªsome lighter books hitting me on the way down, but nothing serious, merely brief stars. ¡°W-what the hell?¡± I stammer, ¡°enemy attack?¡± My heart pounds, expecting a siren any moment now¡ªbut nothing. Sitting up, it dawns on me I merely fell over a rather thick volume of books laying next to the desk. Enemy attack? How silly of you, Victoria. Stolen story; please report. ¡°Oh blimey¡­¡± I murmur, ¡°Buttermilch, I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯ll¡ª¡° picking up a few books here and there to put back on the desk, I freeze. A beep¡ªno, a clicking sound can be heard somewhere nearby. Glancing around¡ªthe room being a little dim as it is¡ªI scramble to find the origin point, but it¡¯s difficult to search for. I rummage as quickly and carefully as I can, hoping I can find it in time before any curious eyes peer in. Flipping books over one after another, my heart beats faster before I finally find something that sticks out¡ªa circular pearly-white device with blue trimmings, no bigger than your typical hand-held device. In a way, it reminds me of a roomba¡ªVivi if she wasn¡¯t charcoal. The physique of it is similar but its dimensions are slightly smaller, so it¡¯s not a roomba at all¡­ what is it then? The device continues to click. Squinting, I look closer, making out that it is not because of any kind of malfunction but because of a small rectangular container pressing down on a few of its analog buttons still. Before I pull the box away, the green-lit screen catches my eye. Curious, I find it displays data that flicks to the rhythm.
ENTRIES
56/71 10TH SEPTEMBER 217 MAC 7MINS, HOLO
55/71 3RD SEPTEMBER 217 MAC 4MINS, HOLO
54/71 27TH AUGUST 217 MAC 2MINS, HOLO
¡°A captain¡¯s log?¡± I mutter, watching as the log device continues to rewind in dates. Did it not cross Mazzareli¡¯s mind to retrieve this when he took over command of the Yilan? No, there¡¯s a chance it must¡¯ve simply been overlooked. I sit there pondering if I should take this to hand over to Mazzareli, all the while observing the data entries dwindle into the single digits as far back as the year 215. After several minutes, I glance towards the door, a sigh of relief that nobody enters. Guess I should count myself lucky that nobody is intruding¡­ well, to be frank, I am intruding here. By all means, if Mazzareli or heaven forbid Prince got wind of what I¡¯m doing, I¡¯m sure it would be a little more than a nuisance. I didn¡¯t technically tell either officer I would be in here. And if they stumble across me accessing confidential information, it¡¯d be hard for Mazzareli at that point to play favorites and not throw me into the brig. Oh, who am I kidding? The two of them would love to do just that. So it¡¯s just all the more reason for me to take just a little look, right? A little curiosity never hurt the cat, after all. And if anything, I reckon these are private logs anyway rather than official ones¡­ judging that the only two names that have shown up thus far are this MAC and EDGAR. Huh, actually, now that I think about it, could these be official captain logs? Maybe I should just pick it up and head on my way, it might just be¡ª I get up, a slight pain in my foot as I watch the small plastic container slide and tumble away. Likewise, the ship log recorder rolls away, landing face-up. In a panic, I dive for it in the grave realization I could¡¯ve just damaged years¡¯ worth of important assets for Mazzareli and the Yilan. That¡¯s when I hear something mechanical whirl-up¡ªand then blindness. I reel back in shock. When my vision recovers, I find the office¡¯s appearance has been engulfed in a dark-blue mist. The layout of the officer¡¯s quarter is different, too¡ªit is no longer messy and the furniture is rearranged. Focusing in front of me, the shades of mist give way to a white holographic figure, fizzling on the occasion. I hold my breath in anticipation, but it doesn¡¯t seem like they have taken notice of me just yet given their back is turned to me. Slowly getting to my knees, I can still distinguish what looks like a Commander jacket draped over her shoulders¡­ or is it? It¡¯s longer than what I have seen, anyway. One smoking pipe twirls in their hand as the officer swifts through something on the desk. Judging from the hair¡ªlong, seemingly dark hair tied in a ponytail. No cap either, interesting enough. I don¡¯t¡­ who is this? This obviously couldn¡¯t be Mazzareli. He was always a hardass with uniforms. Even if he found so much of a speck on inspection days, he would deduct so many points for it. Could this be the Mac person record? Possibly¡­ ah¡­ but that¡¯s not important now, I shift around for the hologram device, but it¡¯s difficult to find in this blasted fog! After enough crawling underneath the mist, I¡¯m able to locate it. I reach forward to press the OFF button¡ª ¡°Oh¡­ blimey,¡± a woman¡¯s voice freezes me in place. I didn¡¯t hear the door open. Oh, bummer, I¡¯m never going to hear the end of it from Mazzareli, am I? I sit up straight in an apologetic manner, head hanging low. ¡°Um, listen, I can explain¡ª¡° ¡°No matter how much I look at it, those decor folks have a horrific taste. Apple-red in contrast to our uniforms? Hell, I¡¯d put my grudges aside to wear a NOSP uniform again.¡± Huh? I turn around, finding that the Commander¡ªa tall, slender woman sporting a nice pair of shades¡ªblows from her pipe, adding to the mystical mist surrounding us. NOSP? That sounds familiar¡­ I think it was one of the forerunners to the Metropolitan navy back in the day. My old man talked little about it back then. Just how old is this holographic recording, anyway? I glance at the device behind me¡ª ¡°Hmmm,¡± the Commander muses, an extended suck from her pipe, ¡°it¡¯s certainly been a long while since I¡¯ve done one of these. How goes the procedure again, I wonder? Well,¡± she pauses, ¡°this isn¡¯t going in the official log, at least, so it¡¯s not particularly important. Anyways¡­¡± The officer sits against the table, tucking her left arm in and resting the other on it. She holds the pipe still for a moment, but begins to twirl it ever so slowly as crystal-white mist escapes her partially closed lips. Her Adam¡¯s apple bobbles slightly. Her gaze ignores me as she stares at the ceiling. She begins. ¡°Captain¡¯s log, the twenty-second of May, two hundred fifteen. Commander Mackenzie Cadenza of the MSN Yilan¡­¡± a head tilt, her eyes shift to the right ¡°ah, computer?¡± There¡¯s a short beep from Mackenzie¡¯s recording device, ¡°for future reference, please shorten Mackenzie to simply Mac¡­ thank you! Anyways, moving on,¡± the slim, beautiful Mackenzie pushes herself off the desk and strolls past me towards a portrait of some folks, but it¡¯s difficult to make out any of them through this dreadful mist and the overall cruddy quality of the recording. Mackenzie remains silent for a few moments, then sucks on her pipe before speaking. ¡°These numb brains in Sydney,¡± she mumbles, a heavy sigh, ¡°every last one of them. Pulling me out of retirement like this, just who do they think they¡¯re fooling? They never learn from their mistakes, dissolving the organization because of mistrust and thinking they can start anew. They pulled all of you out of retirement, but not me. And look where that ended for you lot? ¡°It should¡¯ve been me that went to Zonal,¡± MacKenzie murmurs, ¡°those bloody idiots. I simply cannot comprehend why they would pull me out now instead of then. I just don¡¯t¡­¡± MacKenzie tails off, shoulders sagging. But it isn¡¯t long before she pulls herself up and glances towards her desk, presumably where her recorder is situated. ¡°And even so, everything in parliament is against this idea in the first place. We need more time, we need more resources¡­ what hope do they have in fighting this unprecedented threat to our everyday lives with a universal fighting formation? We whack the ragtag group of one ugly bandit bastard, they just regroup and regrow like a nest of rats in another sector¡­ ¡°To simply admonish the colonial navies and issue gag orders that are nothing more than empty missives¡­ it¡¯s distressing, isn¡¯t it? We¡¯re better than this. This whole attempt at a Federalized navy is one big joke, one big sham!¡± Mackenzie finishes with a heavy sigh jumping off her shoulders, she rubs her temple, teeth gritting as she turns away for the time being. I simply cannot believe what I am hearing. An odd feeling morphs in my stomach, and my heart beats with a resolute pounding. Gag orders? Was¡­ or is Sydney parliament against the idea of a Metropolitan navy? My thoughts are a jumbled mess making me process anything she says. As I watch MacKenzie pace around, I can only wonder¡­ were we lied to back at the academy? Were we, the civilians of Terra, being deceived¡ªbeing lied about what lay above the clear blue skies of our little blue planet? Even now, Alexandra¡¯s words from the past echo through my mind. Who tells the truth? The Federation or the Ruthenians? Both may have some truth in their lies. But even so¡­ ¡°If old Signor was still around¡­¡± Mackenzie continues, slumping into her seat, ¡°if those politicians could only recognize the bigger picture that we set out to accomplish¡­¡± Mackenzie sets the pipe down, the bowl resting on the table as she sinks to the side and rubs her chin. ¡°The situation¡ªthis precarious environment forced upon us by our civvie, blue-collared mates¡­ ¡°it would not be so precarious as it is now than it is for the boys back home we seek to protect,¡± MacKenzie stops tapping the pipe, brushing off the lower side of the bowl as she lifts the pipe back to her lips. ¡°We wouldn''t need to siphon what we don¡¯t even have. We wouldn¡¯t have to gravel and make concessions to the Franks or what have you to make some shitty barely-melded together scrap piss off into the void and fight an impossible battle! ¡°All we¡¯re doing is making the people suffer for more in the intermediate term. We¡¯re forcing them to ration for more when we don¡¯t even know if it will be worth it in the end! Boy, when the Zonal expedition failed, I was relieved when the prime minister¡ª¡° Mackenzie cocks her head, scratching her chin, ¡°Fillip? Phelps? When he and his entire cabinet resigned, I felt relieved¡­ maybe the next guy would have a brighter head? Maybe people might remember that NOSP wasn¡¯t the bad chaps after all¡­ Maybe they realized that Signor was doing the right thing. But no¡­ fail, and try again¡­ I just can¡¯t make heads or tails of it at all. MacKenzie moans, pushing her glasses up to pinch her nose bridge. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have to pat each of these bright-minded individuals, telling them that what we do is for a great good. For a greater sacrifice¡­ and they¡¯re more than happy to comply¡­¡± an odd chuckle ¡°or maybe they¡¯re just happy a lovely old dove other than their mum is giving them attention. And yet¡ª¡° MacKenzie lets out a harsh scoff ¡°they don¡¯t know that all of this¡ªto fight and die for a purpose that could¡¯ve been nipped in the bud so many years ago. Why, just why¡­? Slumping on the carpet myself, running a hand through my golden bangs. Why? Why indeed¡­? MacKenzie mumbles something under her breath. She props her feet on the desk, leaning back in her seat with her arms crossed. The video feed fizzles some more in this eerie silence. ¡°I¡¯ve gotten off track quite a bit, haven¡¯t I?¡± Mackenzie asks softly. She looks first at me¡ªa shiver down my spine¡ªand then at the portrait from before. ¡°I went by for so long without resorting to either, too. ¡°Imagine my surprise when I get the mobile call to put the uniform on some more,¡± a slight grimace follows. Mackenzie slowly lifts a hand to tug at her jacket¡¯s loose arm sleeve, ¡°¡ªwell, whatever constitutes this dreadful thing. Even when I was silver for so long, they overlooked it for¡­¡± MacKenzie shakes her head. She slumps back in her chair, sighing heavily and seemingly biting down on the smoking pipe. ¡°Computer¡­¡± MacKenzie mutters, again pinching her nose bridge, and in no short time, she is answered by a short round of beeps. ¡°Computer,¡± she repeats a little softer this time. ¡°Please omit the entire transcription after¡­¡± she rests her head on the chair, and for a moment I can make out the hesitation in her tired eyes as her pupils dart around seemingly frantically. ¡°Everything after ¡®moving on¡¯.¡± There¡¯s a moment of silence followed by the computer asking for confirmation. The little robotic voice repeats the question several more times, but it goes unanswered. ¡°Even though this isn¡¯t supposed to go on the official record,¡± MacKenzie says, ¡°I went ahead and got carried away. If it ever got out what I said, I¡¯d be in heaps of trouble¡­ not like it matters. What¡¯s a little disciplinary misconduct and minor court martial going to do? My records are stained black as-is. What¡¯s one more for the closet, I reckon?¡± MacKenzie¡¯s musing overlaps with the computer asking for continued confirmation on the deletion of the transcript. As much as I would want to, the thought of jokingly writing the computer off as a persistent guy doesn¡¯t amuse me in the slightest. I¡¯m simply shaken to the core to even¡ª A knock at the door. Then another¡ªthen several more impatient follow-ups. An intense shiver rapidly runs up my spine. I immediately beeline for the recorder device and frantically scramble to press the OFF button. I stutter to respond to the door knocking, my heart racing faster than ever. I knew it was a bad idea to let this thing run! I really never will hear the end of it from Mazzareli! Bloody hell¡­ and I was looking forward to going ashore at the nearest Frankish Side with Friederika, too. The voice is muffled, and I clear my throat. How would I go about explaining this? What possible excuse could I get out of this? Memories of that incident of having Prince fetching me the classified information come rushing back, and I grit my teeth, bracing for the worse. The squeak of the chair and boots slamming on the floor¡­ the chair rolling back as MacKenzie gets up for a stretch. ¡°Right, right, yes, come in¡ª¡° Huh? Eh? The single bead of sweat nervously rappelling my cheek is unable to control itself and splashes to the floor. MacKenzie sighs more heavily, angrily this time. Getting to her feet and stomping off past me to the recording device. ¡°I said¡ªcome in, you deaf bloke¡ª¡° The door slides open, but through the foggy mist, it is impossible to tell otherwise. My heart, beating as it, increases at a faster pace. Through the bluish-purple thick atmosphere, a black silhouette forms from the doorway. It gets more clear with each step, imposing itself ever larger through the condensed mist. I crane my neck the moment the figure confidently cuts through the clouds of holographic pixelation. And the pounding of my heart screeches to a halt. The uncomfortableness swelling in my neck is too straining to handle as I bear witness¡­ bear witness¡­ I can¡¯t even process it. I don¡¯t want to process it. I want to look away¡ªbut I can¡¯t. My mouth, increasingly dry, tries to utter words that refuse to come out for reasons I can¡¯t understand. Yet, for reasons I understand perfectly well. With a clumsy clacking of boots that resonates throughout the room the most amateur¡ªthe most god-awful, fresh-out-of-boot-camp positioning the fingers positions at an angle certain degrees past what is nominally acceptable¡ªhalf his uniform tucked in, wrinkles galore, the garrison cap itself positioned slanted¡ªand the wrong acceptable way at that. His hair is slightly greasy and unkempt. Sideburns at unacceptable length and a growing goatee past regulations¡­ I don¡¯t want to believe it. I can¡¯t believe it. I refuse to¡­ I clasp my mouth in a brief attempt to look away. I¡¯m sorry. ¡°Lieutenant Kenneth Buttermilch!¡± Buttermilch declares ¡°Present and accountable for, reporting in for official duties as per XO Edgar¡¯s direction.¡± Chapter 99: Embers of Ishtar | Through the Gauntlet | Part 2 - In the Shadow of Another Mustering what dispersed courage I could muster, and ignoring the profound emptiness in my stomach, I raise my head to look at the younger Buttermilch. He beams full of life, grinning from ear to ear with aspirations for something greater. ¡°I hope I¡¯m not late for my first assignment¡ª¡° a pause, as Buttermilch scans the room, ¡°I hope I didn¡¯t keep you waiting, it seems you were in the middle of something?¡± ¡°Buttermilch¡­!¡± I whimper, frozen, unable to say anymore. I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m so sorry. My vision becomes blurred from emotions I can no longer contain. From behind me, a surprised chuckle turns into a laugh halfway through. I hear the pushing up of sunglasses and her Commander cape fluttering around as she walks towards the young Buttermilch. And for a moment, here on the sidelines, I watch as MacKenzie tidies up a bemused Buttermilch piece by piece. From the front, it may seem like MacKenzie is beaming back, but those sunglasses mask a sad smile more than anything else. ¡°Waiting? No, no. It¡¯s quite the contrary,¡± she replies ¡°I was passing the time until you came¡ª¡° a wince ¡°I wasn¡¯t doing anything particularly of importance aside from some mundane matters. ¡°But that aside¡ªLieutenant, you¡¯re lucky I¡¯m in a better mood than usual,¡± MacKenzie lies, working her way up and fixing his abhorrent collars. ¡°It¡¯s¡ªwhat, your first day on my Yilan and you¡¯re already looking wet behind the ears. Why,¡± MacKenzie adjusts his cap and aligns his saluting hand, ¡°I ought to ship you off to sender.¡± All the while, Buttermilch looks worse off than a poor young elk in the headlights. ¡°Sorry, Mac!¡± Buttermilch says with the smoothest recovery of confidence I can only admire. ¡°I woke up late and scrambled getting here¡­ you wouldn¡¯t believe that my pants were halfway on before I even reached the hallway¡ª¡° MacKenzie rolls her eyes, but poor Buttermilch would¡¯ve never known. I almost want to feel sorry for the guy, but after everything he has made us endure¡­ My heart sinks at the thought. I clutch my chest, brushing away the train of thought. MacKenzie takes a step back, folding her arms under her breasts. ¡°Are you trying to get on my XO¡¯s bad side already?¡± she asks, an adjustment of her sunglasses. Buttermilch lets out a nervous chuckle and shrugs. ¡°Boy, what kind of drongos are they sending me? I¡¯m not one to play favorites, you know. If I get a report from him I¡¯m not even throwing you in the brig¡ª¡° MacKenzie smirks, a head tilt as her shades slip down her nose, ¡°you¡¯re getting chained in the engine room.¡± I can¡¯t help but wince, Buttermilch felt the same. No sense of mercy, huh? ¡°So condescending yet not friendly, mate¡­ not even an inch of mercy, miss Mac?¡± Buttermilch asks, his grin hardly faltering. ¡°Is that how you treat your new adjutant right off the bat?¡± MacKenzie takes a step back and cups her hands behind her back. She does an about-face to glance at me¡ªor rather, through me¡ªat the recorder device. She tries to maintain that carefully crafted facade of hers, but the glimmering of her shades exposes the graveness in her eyes. A glimpse into her mood comes to pass when she faces Buttermilch again. ¡°You don¡¯t have the right to be all chummy with me, mate,¡± she says, almost sneer-like. MacKenzie pokes his chest and seems to have realized she didn¡¯t fix his tie. ¡°And stop acting like we¡¯re anything but acquainted, Lieutenant. The XO gets antsy when anyone gets too¡­ uh¡ª¡° ¡°Close for comfort, Mac?¡± Buttermilch finishes for her. The absolute nerve of this guy. My heart sinks further than I thought possible. I clench my chest, just what went wrong for him to be so hard boiled¡­? I hear a grunt, and look up to see that Mackenzie has stiffened his tie a little too excessively. ¡°Lieutenant Buttermilch,¡± MacKenzie starts, huffing a heavy sigh, ¡°I am your superior officer and you will address me as such. From now on I want you to respect that as such¡ª¡° ¡°So you¡¯re saying I don¡¯t have that right just right?¡± Buttermilch says nearly with that beaming grin of his. It¡¯s hard to tell from this angle, but I can only imagine the Commander is giving him the death glare right about now from beneath those shades. Death glare¡­ ¡°Yes,¡± Mackenzie answers, ¡°you could say that.¡± Mackenzie backs off and does an about-face towards her desk. Hands on hips, gaze to the side. ¡°So¡­ now that I have received you, what is it you have to report exactly, Lieutenant? What was such a fuss that you had to make a drongo out of yourself?¡± She scoffs ¡°Lieutenant¡­ I may just call you lieutenant Drongo from now on.¡± Glancing at Buttermilch, he remains in his saluting stance. The young lieutenant glances off to his side¡ªat me¡ªand I look away. Even now, I just can¡¯t bring myself to make contact with him. It¡¯s unsettling. It¡¯s too morbid. I don¡¯t deserve the recognition. ¡°Why,¡± Buttermilch begins, ¡°I just wanted to see one of the best¡ª¡° Mackenize¡¯s eyes twitch ¡°most inspiring¡ª¡° her fists clutch tight ¡°heroes of the navy has to offer¡ª¡° Mackenzie bites down on her lip, her eyes shut tight. Do not say another word, is what I can imagine her wanting to say now. ¡°To finally meet one of the influential people in my life¡ªto be able to serve as the personal aide to the one who saved several squadrons from destruction¡­ to busting a major criminal network at Gurvantes!¡± Buttermilch raises his arms, his eyes so full of happiness. ¡°And it all started with a humble NOSP officer who oversaw the miracle at Al-Bawa Qu.¡± Al-Bawa Qu? We were taught about it at the Academy a few times. Near the end of what the conflict now called ¡®Bloody Perdenes¡¯, two and a half Frankish legions numbering some twenty thousand combat personnel were inserted deep into rebel-controlled territory, digging in and fortifying. The plan had two objectives: to secure the isthmus of Bahat and sever supply between partisan cells; this was part of a bigger strategic plan for dividing and conquering through hedgehog defenses. The second, true purpose of the operation was to draw the enemy into a decisive engagement and cripple their combat capacity on both sides of the isthmus. Essentially, the Frankish legions would dig in and let the enemy encircle them for a drawn-out battle of attrition. All the while being supplied by air until the main armor would reinforce them and force the enemy into a double siege. And it worked at first¡ªbut it was an operation that fell apart. The armored column, huge in its capacity and stretching endlessly for kilometers, was bogged down by atrocious muddy roads, frequent skirmishes, and a confusing chain of command. The armor relief never made it, and the Legionnaires suffered as a result¡­ ¡°I had a few uncles who saw action there¡­¡± Buttermilch clasps his hands together ¡°and they got out safely thanks to your hard work to evacuate the army. It was like a blind slighting revelation¡ªa desire to do something similar.¡± Buttermilch says. MacKenzie rests her head on one hand and smiles¡ªbut even I know that is a forced smile of all things. ¡°To make a difference and save lives,¡± the eager Lieutenant continues, ¡°of course, by the time I enlisted NOSP itself ceased to exist¡­ but I hoped I could still accomplish my dreams in the Navy. Even being a non-Terran citizen, the process of joining as an officer was difficult,¡± Buttermilch smiles, in contrast to the pained expression of MacKenzie. The man continues. ¡°But the effort paid off¡ªI never gave up on my dreams. And you know why, Mac?¡± That meek smile remains stiff across his face, ¡°could you imagine the surprise¡ªimagine the excitement when I get assigned as your adjustment?¡± A deep breath as the young Lieutenant squeezes his hands. ¡°Miss Mac, I simply couldn¡¯t be any more delighted! I want to learn from the best¡ªto make history alongside you. I want to make the galaxy a better place for spacenoids and earthnoids alike¡­ to serve and to protect, that is the greatest duty a soldier could do. That is the ultimate sacrifice a person¡ªregardless of their ethnicity¡­ regardless of their nationality, could do for their country. For their Federation. ¡°That was something you said once, right?¡± Buttermilch asks. MacKenzie gets up from her desk and walks away from the Lieutenant. I stumble away a bit given she walks in my path, but stops short of phasing through me. She glances between me and the ship¡¯s log device without saying a word. ¡°Commander?¡± Buttermilch calls out to her. She blinks a couple of times, her Adam¡¯s apple bobbing. Briefly, her eyes are trained on the recorder¡¯s device. She takes a step forward, hesitant, but backs off towards the Lieutenant. The reflection on the sunglasses shows excruciating pain, slowly eased into the sake of comfortableness¡ªif only for Buttermilch¡¯s sake. ¡°Well, lieutenant Drongo,¡± MacKenzie begins ¡°first of all, I do not recall ever telling you to be at ease,¡± she answers. Buttermilch can¡¯t do it without cracking a chuckle, but his smile fades and he returns to attention upon the realization that she¡¯s serious. ¡°Second of all,¡± a sigh follows suit, ¡°I do not wish to continue reminding you, Lieutenant, but refrain from addressing me casually.¡± Buttermilch winces, and I cannot help but feel sympathetic for him. ¡°Lastly, mostly¡­¡± she pats him on the shoulder with a heartfelt rub. ¡°It always did feel like the last couple aides I¡¯ve had over my career were lousy good-for-nothings who asked for transfers when they couldn¡¯t handle the heat. ¡°I suspect it may be because most of ¡®em never had the synergy¡ªhad what it takes to keep up with me. But even so,¡± a gentle smile ¡°I¡¯m sure one day I¡¯ll warm up to ya, er¡­¡± she chuckles, to Buttermilch¡¯s puzzlement, ¡°you¡¯re on track, but don¡¯t let that get to that drongo noggin of yours, alright mate?¡± Buttermilch clears his throat and gives a silent nod. ¡°Good on ya, now, you may now be at ease¡ªheck, you can lodge around for a bit if you want, ah¡ª¡° she glances at the recording device, maybe the Commander realized just how long it¡¯s been running for now? ¡°No, I¡¯ll be fine, miss¡ª¡° Buttermilch bites his lip, ¡°Commander Cadenza. My legs are dying but I¡¯ll spare your gesture of hospitality since it¡¯ll mean giving you a headache, and I¡¯m sure you have lots more important matters to attend to.¡± For a moment, Mackenize¡¯s smile fades and her eyes are sorrowful. Sadly for Buttermilch, he won¡¯t be able to pick up on that. ¡°I see,¡± she muses, ¡°you¡¯d best be getting used to that anyway, I will be willing to sweep under the rug this very slight and misgiving demeanor for now.¡± Given how harsh this woman is to Buttermilch, I can only ponder how he looks up to her so much. They always say never to meet your heroes. Regardless, Buttermilch doesn¡¯t seem like it bothers him in the slightest. Mackenzie picks up a floppy disk from her desk and presents it to Buttermilch. ¡°You are correct on the assumption that I would like to get back to work¡­ well, I was starting on it anyway before you barged in,¡± the adjutant apologizes, but she waves it off. ¡°Don¡¯t fret about it too much. If you¡¯re not going to stick around then please present this after-action report of the day to the XO. It¡¯s mostly just technical details and a dossier of the Yilan from the twentieth to the end of yesterday. ¡°And if he happens to reprimand you for your actions either, well¡­¡± she slides the floppy disk into his breast pocket and turns him around. A little awkward at first, since Buttermilch instinctively does an about-face. ¡°Just let him know this will be the first and last time I will let you off the hook lightly¡ªI¡¯ll let him know myself that instead of throwing you in the engine room, your rations will be reduced by one ticket.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a rather light sentence,¡± Buttermilch muses in surprise. The Commander rests her hands on his shoulders and squeezes him. ¡°Consider it a welcoming gift on part of my new adjutant. I look forward to your assistance for the upcoming campaign, lieutenant,¡± Buttermilch gives a nod and proceeds through the dark mist for the door. Before he disappears, however, MacKenzie clears her throat. ¡°Buttermilch¡ªwait, before you go,¡± Buttermilch turns halfway out of curiosity. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. ¡°Ma¡¯am?¡± Buttermilch asks. Seemingly unsure if he should turn to address her fully. With a deep sigh, MacKenzie gives off a cool smile. She rests one hand on her hip and brushes her hair with the other. ¡°What you said about me¡ªyour aspirations and the trials and errors you undertook to join the navy¡­ I was moved,¡± she pauses, her gaze to the floor, ¡°flattered that you think of me in such a way. Normally, I would say that would get you nowhere, but¡­¡± ¡°But?¡± Buttermilch interrupts, trying to stem his excitement of being recognized, I suppose. To both our surprise, MacKenzie extends a hand out to the young officer. Taken back, Buttermilch looks at her proposal, towards me¡ªmy heart skips a beat, and I divert my gaze¡ªbefore locking eyes with his superior officer. ¡°Commander¡­?¡± ¡°Welcome aboard the Yilan, Buttermilch,¡± Mackenzie answers. ¡°I sincerely hope your knowledge and commitment to our little dinky ship will come in handy in even the roughest of times.¡± Buttermilch¡¯s eyes sparkle and his lips tremble as he tries to keep his composure in front of his one and only hero. He is more than happy to step forward and clasp her hand for a fond shake. ¡°Thank you, ma¡¯am,¡± Buttermilch says, ¡°I cannot even begin to express how much that means to me, well then,¡± Buttermilch takes a step back¡ªhalfway into the holographic mist, and salutes her one last time. ¡°I, lieutenant Kenneth Buttermilch, will now be on my way to dutifully carry out my mission for the Yilan commander Mackenzie Cadenza!¡± And with that, Buttermilch about-faces and non-nonchalantly disappears from my life once more into the blue abyss. ¡°Dismissed, Lieutenant,¡± the Commander answers. A swift salute as the two of us sees him off. I almost want to lurch forward and cry out for him. My heart pounds with such effect that it almost makes me tear up. To see my idol come and go seemingly back from the beyond is one thing¡ªto see him go without a goodbye is a stinger. But yet, no words come out, no tears are shed. The only thing I can do is watch. I wipe my face. Taking several deep breaths in the process to calm myself. Calm. Heh. Just the thought is enough to make me choke and let out a gasping chuckle. I came here to heal, but all it does is magnify the trauma of losing someone who didn¡¯t need to die. Buttermilch didn¡¯t deserve this fate. He didn¡¯t deserve to end up this way in life. He reached his lifetime dream of enlisting in the Metropolitan Navy and meeting his hero¡­ But no matter how far I progressed in ranks, it didn¡¯t matter. It didn¡¯t matter one damn bit. I figured by the time I reached the rank of Commander, I thought I could make a difference, but even now that made very little difference¡­ I look up into the unforgiving abyss that took my Commander. Why did it have to be this way, Buttermilch? Recomposing myself, I first sit up, wiping some runaway snot with my inner sleeve and turning my attention back to MacKenzie. For a moment of the facade, she¡¯s happy¡ªbut I Know better than to believe she feels that way. I wonder if Buttermilch has ever looked at these past recordings the same way I have. Would he still feel the same way about her even now? ¡°There¡¯s no need to make such an exaggeration in formality, you know?¡± Mackenzie says wryly. I can¡¯t help but crack a smile, clearing my throat and getting to my feet. I pace around when she turns her back to me¡ªtaking me by surprise when she slumps over her desk. Helpless, I can only look on as she sniffles a little, her shoulders shaking as she extends deep breaths. ¡°Such naivet¨¦,¡± MacKenzie whispers, relaxing her body and bumping her head on the table a few times. She shakes her head and gets back to her feet, still leaning on the table with her upper body. The glasses slide down her face slightly, but she makes no effort to push them back up. ¡°I¡¯m no hero, Lieutenant,¡± she continues, struggling to clear her throat. ¡°My accomplishments¡­ one day, you¡¯ll understand, Buttermilch. They were all shams¡­ I was merely¡­¡± she stops, biting down on her lip. She looks past me at the officer¡¯s log computing device. She opens her mouth to say something but closes it, and glances towards the door¡ªworry that Buttermilch might overhear, maybe? Mackenzie shifts to sit on the table, back straight but slowly hunching over. ¡°Everything I¡¯ve done¡­ was because of someone else¡¯s fault,¡± she shakes her head, biting down on her lip every so often. Eyes blinking rapidly. ¡°Saving a few ship squads from destruction, busting that crime ring over in Gurvantes, Al-Bawa Qu¡­¡± MacKenzie stops to slip off the sunglasses, folding them in her lap. The Commander continues. ¡°They were all coincidences¡­ I happen to be the wrong person at the right time or something like that.¡± She looks up at me with that anguish expression of hers. The crow¡¯s feet under her eyes were all the more apparent. She looks seemingly a lot older, like the recording transcended through time. ¡°History takes quite the turn when certain actors are on the stage, Buttermilch.¡± I find myself paralyzed, I clear my throat, my head spinning. ¡°But I was no great person of history¡ªI was merely a backstage helper who nudged the story in a different direction,¡± she blinks, twirling her sunglasses in one hand and rubbing her eyes with the other. ¡°You focus too much on the few accomplishments I¡¯ve done and never the bigger picture¡ªnot the mound of regrets I¡¯ve failed to set out to do. Not the disasters I couldn¡¯t divert¡­ not the saves I could¡¯ve saved but didn¡¯t. Not the families I was forced to separate or the children I had to take from their parents¡ª¡° she squeezes the sunglasses, gritting her teeth with a heavy sigh. The Near Orbital Semi-Militarized Police agency. It¡¯s hardly been some twenty years and contemporary historians already paint it in a heinous light. Are they wrong? Are they justified? Our school instructors¡ªsome of them former NOSP personnel themselves¡ªwere just as¡­ hard so to say, showing us footage and documentaries that painted their actions in a darker light. It all felt like it was presented exaggeratedly. But now, I¡¯m not so sure. After all of MacKenzie¡¯s revelations, I¡¯m not so sure what¡¯s shrouded in lies any more. MacKenzie continues, taking longer and deeper breaths as she continues. ¡°I wanted to contribute to society as much as I was taking away from it. At some point, I felt I was fighting an uphill battle with myself. Am I doing this all for fame? Am I doing this all¡ªthe good and ugly¡ªfor my country?¡± MacKenzie flips the sunglasses¡¯ arms up and down. A heavy sigh from the dreary Commander. ¡°Al-Bawa Qu was hailed as a milestone¡ªa watershed moment in an otherwise dark chapter for the Federation¡­ even if it was for all the wrong reasons.¡± For the wrong reasons¡­? ¡°A band-aid of sorts for a blemished part of our galactic history, and yet¡­¡± Mackenzie pauses, and the flicking stops. ¡°And yet for me¡ªit was a career disaster.¡± What? ¡°The Franks wanted to be evacuated, but NOSP¡¯s divisional Perdenes command didn¡¯t want to budge. Our chaps in the army were invested in this campaign¡ªthey wanted to go all-in even if the rolls were dicey¡­ ¡°Even if it meant losing twenty thousand men. No,¡± the woman caresses her nose, rubbing her eyes before continuing. ¡°They expected to simply let several thousand men die for temporary strategic gains. Those brass drongos demanded their soldiers to fight to the last bullet¡ªthe last grenade and bayonet. ¡°If the boots on the ground were pulled out, it¡¯d only serve to strain homeland relations with the locals. Those top drongos feared the media would paint it as the Federation turning its back on the people it purported to protect. All the while, we blokes in NOSP were just as tarnished as the Legionnaires we cooperated with. The army was obsessed with wanting to take down as many guerrilla fighters as possible¡ªby any means necessary. Even the unthinkable options.¡± Unthinkable options? A pause follows after MacKenzie takes an extended smoke from her pipe. The holographic display is obscured by the excess of smoke creeping through her lips. ¡°I felt I did what was only right¡­ NOSP was reined in for anything short of an evacuation, and its top leadership was willing to sit on the sidelines and ignore any pleas for evacuation.¡± MacKenzie rests the sunglasses on her lips and glances to the side. ¡°I¡­ disobeyed direct orders from Perdenes command and those tits in the army,¡± she says rather dryly. Shaking her head a couple more times, tapping the sunglasses against her lips some more. ¡°I faced serious charges of disciplinary action¡ªthreats of a court-martial, military discharge, and so on. I dropped into orbit and rallied like-minded individuals, knowing full well that after everything is said and done, my career in NOSP would be over. ¡°It was to save lives.¡± MacKenzie slowly places the pipe to her mouth, resting it on her lip and staring into its rim. ¡°Self-sacrifice for the sake of others. It sounds noble now, of course¡­ but I couldn¡¯t save them all. There were so many Perdenese contingents that stayed behind to cover our shrinking evacuation zone. And even after most of the foreign elements were extracted, I was simply powerless¡ª¡° she glances off to the side. ¡°I was utterly hopeless in preventing¡­¡± to my surprise, the holographic feed fizzles out. I panicky lean over to the captain¡¯s log device thinking it malfunctions¡ªhearing MacKenzie speaking again, though, I reel around. MacKenzie rubs her temples and leans back with a heavy sigh following suit. A brief ruffle of her hair before standing up. ¡°What am I doing?¡± she mutters ¡°I should omit more than that segment¡ªhell I ought to bloody just delete the whole thing, but¡­¡± so she censored certain detail about the extraction¡­ huh? ¡°If I ever let that through, I¡¯d reckon they would flat-out just kill me.¡± Clearing my throat, I can only wonder what¡¯s so serious about the topic that she would get killed over it¡­ but what gives me slight shivers is who they imply. ¡°But what¡¯s one more skelly for the closet, right?¡± the commander takes a long inhale, ¡°if the Navy weren¡¯t such a desperate bloody bunch, they wouldn¡¯t go out of their way to forgive such a lousy ass bum like me. ¡°I better clean myself up and prepare a real report¡­¡± another deep sigh, she sets down the pipe and adjusts her garrison cap. She stares at her recorder and taps the table. One tap, two taps, a long secession of taps. ¡°Buttermilch deserves better,¡± MacKenzie murmurs, ¡°the Yilan deserves better¡­ ¡°Better than someone chasing after an impostor of her own crimes. I won¡¯t even delete this recording¡ªlet it be damned if someone comes across this long after I¡¯m done with the navy. They can lock me for all I care¡ªlet me rot in some asteroid prison in some unforgettable shit-can region for all I care.¡± Mackenzie reaches over for a cup and downs it in one ago. The officer slams it with such intensity it makes me jump¡ªI¡¯m impressed such a seemingly old recording can capture the moment so well. It¡¯s as if I¡¯m standing there present at that moment in time. MacKenzie jerks from the seemingly awful taste of whatever she just chugged. Alcohol? Coffee? Could be anyone¡¯s guess¡ªcould be either. Mackenzie muses, ¡°And yet, I¡¯m stuck with her and the old girl is stuck with me. There¡¯s no changing that now. There¡¯s no changing that ever,¡± a tilt of the head, resting it on the table and her shoulder, ¡°probably.¡± Mackenzie remains like this for a long time, she locks eyes with me until gazing away and standing up straight with a screech of the chair. She repositions her cap, a casual adjustment of her sunglasses. ¡°There¡¯s no use dwelling on the past now, though,¡± she says walking over to where her video recorder is, ¡°what¡¯s done is done¡ªI got work to do. ¡°I still have time left to redeem myself, I believe. I can¡¯t let down little Buttermilch now. For his sake¡ªfor mine alone.¡± And with that, the video feed fizzles for a little while¡ªit¡¯s frozen; the recording is over. The holographic mist dissipates and the room lights up, forcing me to cover my eyes to adjust. Paralyzed by awe, I snap out of it and lean over the black box (or I guess, roomba in this case?) and stare at what its dataset now portrays.
2/71 4TH JUNE 215 MAC 2MINS16SEC, VOICE
3/71 11TH JUNE 215 MAC 3MINS22SEC, VOICE
4/71 18TH JUNE 215 MAC 1MIN57SEC, VOICE
The first entry¡ªthe one I unwittingly watch unfold¡ªis the only entry to have been at least an hour long. Carefully scrolling through the entries, the rest are typically voice sessions by MacKenzie. There is the odd entry titled AAR here and there¡ªcombat operations that have recently ended or perhaps ongoing, but those are usually a minute long and such. I scroll through the rest of the entries for the year without anything of note catching my eye. I take a moment to make sure nobody disturbs the room before scrolling through the beginning of the twenty-sixteen section. The first couple of months has nothing which stands out to me as it¡¯s more of the usual¡ªuntil I reach the April entries. Most curiously I believe this is around the time that the Metropolitan navy began its first large-scale pirate expeditions into various Federation territories. And my heart skips a beat the moment when one of them comes off as more notable than the others.
48/71 COMBT 23RD APRIL 216 19:20 @ ABASSI SYSTEM MAC 1HR, HOLO
I clear my throat. Glancing at the door occasionally, my heart beats at such a rhythm that I expect someone to peek at any given moment. Abassi¡­ I had not the slightest clue that the Yilan and Buttermilch participated there. He never told me¡­ or perhaps, he just didn¡¯t have the time. There¡¯s so much more I wanted to know about him¡­ about his life, about his dreams. Overpowering my hesitation, I firmly tap the button to replay the digital memory. Once again, the sequence of the holographic mist encapsulates the room giving me yet another change in layout; it seems like Mackenzie must¡¯ve rearranged the room at some point¡ªit is, however, a shame she didn¡¯t change the color scheme. Chapter 99: Embers of Ishtar | Through the Gauntlet | Part 3 - Ones Wish To my bewilderment, MacKenzie kneels over her desk, head resting on the surface as she rubs her unkempt hair repeatedly. ¡°No,¡± she mutters, looking up at a small flat appliance projecting a three-dimensional holographic display of a space zone. Presumingly¡­ I can only take this as an actual optical display of the current battlefield. Leaning in behind her, I make out several dozens of red triangles blinking and beelining for the edges of the globe. Facing them is a disarray of t-blocks in a battle formation closest to what I can describe as a loose crescent shape. The Yilan, I believe, is one of the furthest units closest to the enemy. But as the seconds pass, the enemy units continue to distance themselves. No chase is given. The aftermath of Abassi¡­ I wonder? Recalling what Alexandra once said to me at the Academy years ago, she objected to the factoid that the pirates suffered heavy losses. I didn¡¯t know what to believe then and I¡¯m just as baffled now. If I am to assume each OPFOR unit here represents anywhere from twenty to a hundred ships¡­ I clench my fists. Clearing the mound of doubt formulating in my throat. Shaking my head, no, there must be more to this. A deep breath of air as I focus my attention back on MacKenzie. I jump at the sound of banging at the door. My heart beats rapidly, again, nearly diving for the logging device. I¡¯ve been found out, haven¡¯t I? My hands fumble as I tap in a panic to the continued beatings of the door, seemingly pressing everything but the analog buttons. There¡¯s the swoosh of the door opening¡ªconfused yelling fills my ears in tandem with my ears ringing. Turning back at the door, my mouth seemingly goes dry¡ªand my heart frantically stops. Buttermilch spearheads his way out of the abyss pursued by eerie hands reaching out for him, like an otherworldly presence escaping its fate. He ignores his would-be captors¡ªship security, I tremble as the realization sets in that I miraculously haven¡¯t been discovered trespassing so far. Thank the bloody stars. Buttermilch continuing full-stop whips me back to my senses, and I back up as the seething individual phases through me without so much as a second thought. It leaves me in a state of shock as I whip around to see him forcibly pull the Commander around revealing such a woman in a disheveled state. To my continuing shock, Buttermilch yanks MacKenzie by the collar and pulls her close to him. Buttermilch begins, ¡°what the hell is the meaning of this?!¡± I can hear the tightening of her leather jacket as the security element tries to step in. Astonishingly, after a brief silence, MacKenzie gestures for them to stand down, and the two fade back into the holographic, bottomless gulf. ¡°Why are we letting the enemy escape?!¡± The anger in Buttermilch¡¯s voice is unfathomable. It sends genuine chills hearing the raw fury in his strained voice. My fingers curl; my boots feel stiff and heavy from my feet flinching at his insubordination. ¡°Answer me, goddammit!¡± MacKenzie is practically in a catatonic state. Despite the low-quality playback of the hologram projection, it¡¯s easy to tell the last few years of combat operations have played a toll on her health. Just by this alone, it¡¯s as though Mackenize¡¯s hopes of seeking self-redemption fell through the floor. Buttermilch unwittingly shakes her violently, asking her again to answer. All the while, the pirate fleet disperses¡ªbut one element stays behind as a rearguard. One by one, the blips disappear. One by one, the Federation¡¯s formation regroups but never bothers with giving chase. Her lifeless eyes wander the room, but never makes contact with Buttermilch. She opens her mouth and closes it without a second thought. She clears her throat without uttering a single word. ¡°We could¡¯ve nipped it in the bud¡ªright then, right there! We had the Madame Scarface in our grasps, MacKenzie!¡± Buttermilch says tightening his grip on her collar. ¡°Why!? Why won¡¯t you disobey command and give chase?! We can single-handedly eliminate piracy throughout the galaxy with a quick pursuit! We could avenge the Jaguar! Do you really want to live the rest of your life knowing you failed them?!¡± Those eyes of MacKenzie drift around the room as he rants. Once Buttermilch finishes, she stares at me for what seems like forever, then she reanimates¡ªand profoundly smacks Buttermilch, sending him crashing to the floor next to me. The retaliation leaves me dumbfounded¡ªas if the sound of the smack rings violently in my ears. Buttermilch grunts, rubbing the spot she hit him. His eyes widen, mouth gaping. He blinks rapidly as if still registering what the bloody hell just happened. MacKenzie runs a hand through her disheveled hair as if caught off-guard by her actions. She clears her throat, rubbing her nose ridge all the while. Behind her, the majority of the pirate fleet has exited the battlefield. Elements of the rearguard begin movement one after another. Not so much as a single Federation ship gives pursuit. In fact, one after the other the fleet begins to pull back. ¡°What do you know about revenge?¡± MacKenzie asks rather coldly. ¡°What do you know about exacting revenge in the hopes that it makes a difference?¡± ¡°Commander?¡± Buttermilch asks bafflingly. MacKenzie ignores him and continues. ¡°I¡¯ve lived my life with regrets about the actions I took, and those I could¡¯ve,¡± she clears her throat, and turns her back to the two of us. She rests her hands on the table, head high. ¡°I¡¯ve made mistakes before. I¡¯ve let people die. I¡¯ve been in spots much like this where I could¡¯ve made a difference. I was in charge of protecting people and ordering them to kill people to guarantee my men would go home alive. ¡°What is right? What is wrong? At NOSP academy back in the day, and again for a while before this campaign, I have received instructions from other many great officers in military affairs¡ªdistinguished officers, people who knew what they¡¯ve done, people with years upon years of experience in the field. And yet, I¡¯m sure all of them would lament this very same state of affairs. ¡°We live in a democratic free society¡ªwe serve a democratic free society. I¡¯ve often heard the following from seasoned officers; ¡¯A person should do as much as they can for their country as much as the country should do the same for its people.¡¯ Indeed¡­ if they knew what happened today, would they consider my actions as underachieving, or have I achieved all that I could for my country, for my democratic principles? ¡°Democracy¡­ we, as soldiers, are obliged to serve and protect. We follow what we are ordered to do simply because if we, as the military extension of the democratic entity, refuse and go about our way, are we still serving democracy? Are we still adhering to civilian authority? If not, we are no more than an autonomous functioning organ that may as well oppose the government¡ªthe people that we protect. If we take matters into our own hands, we could very well simply be an autocratic entity¡ªa self-governing body that could be mistrusted¡ªthat could be seen as pursuing goals of its own, agendas that could put this fragile peace and stability at stake. ¡°In due time, Buttermilch,¡± MacKenzie continues, turning and leaning on the table to face Buttermilch. ¡°In due time, you will learn what I¡¯ve done up to this point. I¡¯ve been forced to make many, many difficult decisions throughout my time as an officer. Decisions are not often ethical, decisions imposed by me by a higher-ranking individual. And, unfortunately, these situations presented to you may be dubious; they may not always be so obvious if they are the correct choice are not. ¡°In the spur of the moment, what I or you may have done may seem like the right thing to do,¡± she continues, squeezing her hands, ¡°but after the fact it may be evident¡ªand even then our actions now may be perceived differently in years¡ªdecades, centuries from now¡ªforever dissecting the decisions that we make, the directions in which it takes us¡ªand it begs the question: if I have done this, would this have happened?¡± MacKenzie takes a moment to breathe. Buttermilch is merely speechless. ¡°In moments like these, it¡¯s important¡­¡± MacKenzie scoffs, a weary smile, ¡°¡ªit¡¯s important to take a moment to consider what your original motivation was. What was your purpose in these affairs? Sometimes, you have to dirty your hands, even if it means disobeying your superiors¡ªeven if it means going rogue, so to speak, and fundamentally betraying the civic rules we have in place. ¡°As a commander¡ªregardless of your rank, as a mere platoon leader, a Major, a mere squadron Commander, the Admiral, or even our civilian command¡­ we have decisions to make, and we should never flinch in the face of such responsibility.¡± MacKenzie pauses, looking longingly at the space map behind her. MacKenzie continues, ¡°in time, Buttermilch, I can see you achieving admirable authority of your own. You have a great head on your shoulders, chap, however¡­¡± ¡°However¡­?¡± Buttermilch and I utter. Buttermilch gets up to sit on his knees. MacKenzie closes her eyes, placing a hand on her chest before continuing. ¡°However, you should not be blinded by revenge¡ªto seek to chase after a phantom of your past. Whatever has happened in the past¡ªlanguish all you want, but it¡¯s passed and there¡¯s nothing you can do about it. No great deeds you achieve after will change that. The people you¡¯ve led, the things you¡¯ve had them do¡ªit¡¯s all set in stone. The only variable in this affair is that society will change and perceive what you¡¯ve done¡ªand what you haven¡¯t done, long after you and I are dead. ¡°And that is something that will fascinate some. The excitement stems from how you and I have done things and how that would have affected future events to come, and how we shape our world for many years to come. Buttermilch, I¡¯m getting off track,¡± MacKenzie lets out a heartfelt chuckle before continuing, ¡°my one advice to you is not to chase after over silly little revenge plots¡ªwhat good would it bring? ¡°After you achieve your grudge¡ªso to speak, what then? What good does it do? The people you failed to protect, the sons and daughters you promised to bring home are dead. Their families will grieve all the same. ¡°The people they had back home aren¡¯t going to come to space, knock on some pirate¡¯s door and kill him. They grieve. They move on. They heal. They reflect every so often and forever ponder what could¡¯ve been. They won¡¯t hate you¡ªagain, what good does it do? It merely leaves you empty. Nothing more¡± ¡°No, Buttermilch, what you should do is seek to improve yourself. To reflect on what you¡¯ve done¡­ and learn from them. When the next pressing affair comes, learn from your mistake so that you make better decisions. Decisions that you won¡¯t regret¡­ ones that result in the least amount of deaths and mourning. Such actions will not change the past, but they can certainly change the future for the better.¡± Buttermilch speaks up, his eyes drawn to the now-mostly empty battle map. ¡°So pursuing the pirates, disobeying orders¡­?¡± ¡°There¡¯s no telling what could happen,¡± Mackenzie responds, ¡°if I ordered our pitiful squadron to give pursuit, we could take out a few of them¡ªeven nip the fleet in the bud right then and there, eliminate piracy once and for all. However¡­ the opposite could happen. We could venture too far outside the fleet and get cut off,¡± MacKenzie reaches out with an open hand that slowly curls into a fist. ¡°We could get encircled, crushed, and lose hundreds of thousands of servicemen. Missiles and ammunition don¡¯t last forever. ¡°We only have so many supplies before they run out. So many able-bodied marines and small arms on hand before we¡¯re overwhelmed. Hell, the Madame Scarface offers no quarters; what¡¯s to say they simply won¡¯t just annihilate the whole bloody squadron? Would it have been wise for me to disobey orders, thinking it¡¯s for the better when it could be a disaster for the ages?¡± ¡°We sent them reeling. We bloodied and bruised them quite a whopping bit. There¡¯ll be a day when we will confront them again. I¡¯ve made the weighted decision to obey the order because the Admiral made a conscious decision to do the same. Our hard decision-making trickles down and it¡¯s up to each member of the chain of command to do the same.¡± MacKenzie reaches out for Buttermilch. The young officer reaches out slowly, their hands firmly squeezing as MacKenzie lits him to his feet again. ¡°Mac¡­¡± Buttermilch starts. The woman stops him by placing a finger on his mouth. After a brief moment of silence, MacKenzie smiles bleakly and has her say. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about that, Lieutenant,¡± she answers softly. Her sad eyes wander the room before continuing. ¡°I went off on a tangent there. I hope you can forgive me for it.¡± Buttermilch only shakes his head, scoffing. ¡°I suppose in some way, that was karma,¡± Buttermilch says. I can¡¯t help but shiver at those words. ¡°I should be the one to apologize, Mac. I got ahead of myself, I¡ª¡° Buttermilch stops when MacKenzie rests her hands on his shoulders, gripping him seemingly tightly. She looks him up and down before turning him around. A pat on his left shoulder. ¡°At the end of it all, we all have to make hard decisions. And those decisions are not easy. We can regret them all we want, but only future generations can truly dissect what we have or could have done. Simply put, if I was in your shoes, I would¡¯ve done the same bloody thing.¡± Buttermilch lowers his head. MacKenzie lets go of the young officer to allow him to step back. Buttermilch clears his throat, adjusting his garrison cap and giving his superior officer one long salute. ¡°I¡¯ll¡­¡± he begins, ¡°I¡¯m truly sorry for the intrusion, with your permission, I will now take my leave.¡± MacKenzie crosses her arms under her breasts, a smirk. ¡°I feel that we have this backward and I should¡¯ve demanded you leave earlier, but¡ª¡° a swift and sharp salute. ¡°As much as I dislike playing favorites, I¡¯ll sweep it under the rug, just this once.¡± Buttermilch retorts. ¡°Are you simply saying that because of the assault on a fellow officer?¡± He asks, rather smugly. Maybe it¡¯s my imagination or the hologram distorts at that particular moment, but it almost seems like the Commander is grimacing. Maintaining the aura of coolness, MacKenzie refutes. ¡°I don¡¯t want to admit it, but I can¡¯t exactly coerce you with disciplinary action over the casual addressing. However, if it ever came to a hearing, intrusion into an officer¡¯s quarters during wartime activities would be sure to make a sound defense.¡± Buttermilch merely laughs it off lightly. MacKenzie¡¯s smile brightens as Buttermilch does an about-face¡ªtaking me aback as the young idealistic man stands before me with a warm smile. I look away¡ªfeeling deep down a sense of guilt, shame of seeing him so happy like this. I don¡¯t deserve to look at this. I don¡¯t deserve to witness any of this. My heart skips a beat as the holographic ghost sweeps through me and is once consumed by the unearthly abyss. I stand there, paralyzed, unable, unwilling to call out to him, much less lunge out to save him from his untimely fate. ¡°Were it so easy,¡± the soft, broken voice of MacKenzie makes me attentive. She leans onto the table, covering her face and letting out a deep sigh. All the enemy combatants are gone. The Madame Scarface has made her escape¡ªLi Chou¡¯s notoriety as a galactic villain cemented. As I stare into the holographic spherical frame, going over what has happened as their conversation was unfolding. Though the Federation claimed this as a win¡­ it wasn¡¯t necessarily a loss. They saved most of the galaxy from the clutches of a powerful pirate fleet, leaving them out in the sun with practically nowhere to run¡­ the power vacuum that may have resulted as they pulled out of southern Ruthenia notwithstanding. Although the Year 217 Mafia would form a year later, it could be described as a shell of its former glory living like a parasite in what could be the second-worst improvised star region. One might even say they never truly recovered from Abassi. Similarly¡ªand who knows¡ªmaybe they never recovered from the Toscana incursion? What could¡¯ve been. What might¡¯ve been. If MacKenzie indeed acted differently, perhaps the Mafia would¡¯ve died then and there. Perhaps hot pursuit would have performed poorly keeping in mind the Navy¡¯s missile doctrine. There¡¯s no telling just how many were depleted during the battle, and it¡¯s very likely there would be any refueling stations nearby¡ªmuch less any that have military-grade missiles for spaceships. Unlike the regular W14 line of missiles the Metropolitan uses in its ships, civilian cluster defense systems are composed of the W14 Lance missile family. I remember that old man in the missile loading stations mentioned the Yilan wasn¡¯t modernized for the newer mechanized system ships have nowadays, so loading bigger Lances would be impractical by all ends even back then. If MacKenzie did succeed, there¡¯d be no Mafia. Toscana would¡¯ve likely never become the haven of pirates that it is today. The only threat we would have to worry about at most is straggler pirate outposts and the League Militaire. The looming, domineering face of Jonathon leaves me with shivers. MacKenzie sighs, turning to face me. Her gaze to the flow as she idly twiddles her thumbs. The Commander looks up at me, her smirk unmasked. The Commander takes off her cap and slowly caresses the hat in her hands. Biting down on her lip, and taking one long glance at the holographic map. Another heavy exhale as she returns my gaze. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°Sometimes, Buttermilch,¡± she muses, ¡°sometimes it¡¯s difficult to let go of the past,¡± she shakes her head, followed closely by another brief sigh. ¡°These decisions of doing what is right or wrong¡­ of believing you learn let the dead rest in peace by learning from their deaths¡­ it¡¯s haunting.¡± MacKenzie wipes her eyes, biting down her trembling lips. ¡°I can only hope¡­ that one day you will become a far more suitable officer than I could ever hope to be. I pray that one day, someone will idolize you as a better human than I could ever hope to be.¡± Following a long air of holographic fizzle, MacKenzie clears her throat, first glancing back at a bottle behind her and then reaching over to her black box. The video cuts abruptly, and Buttermilch¡¯s office reverts to its original state. MacKenzie¡­ to let go of the past and focus on the present. I clench my chest, knowing too well that I relate to her troubles. I want to know more¡­ I want to know more about her insights. Of her relationship with Buttermilch. Drawing out one long deep breath as I recollect myself. I wonder whether or not to continue deep-diving into the past of these two. Come to think of it, Buttermilch never made a mention of her once to me. It leaves me to wonder whatever became of her. Did she get silenced, like she once predicted? Should I push my luck with this curious stroke of investigation, or should I turn back now before people start getting suspicious? Without a second thought, I pour over the captian¡¯s log device. When I skim through the rest of two hundred sixteen¡¯s dataset, though, there is nothing of note. I take a moment to stand back, leaning on the desk as I do so. Remembering that even the September entries I first encountered had nothing of note, it¡¯s possible that MacKenzie simply stopped having these recordings whenever Buttermilch dropped by. It could be that my treasure hunt is at an end. But just to be safe, I scan through the rest of the year to no avail. Passing through most of the following year is more of the usual entries; minutes-long voice-overs. Some are brief after-action reports but on the surface nothing too substantial. Passing through the fifties¡¯ entries I originally stumbled on, however. One entry catches my attention.
ENTRIES
59/71 1ST OCTOBER 217 MAC 22MINS, VOICE
58/71 24TH SEPTEMBER 217 MAC 1MIN11SECS, VOICE
57/71 17th SEPTEMBER 217 MAC 42SECS, VOICE
Fifty-nine is the last entry of Mac before there¡¯s a two-week gap. After which, I reckon that the XO mentioned before, EDGAR, takes over as acting CO of the Yilan as far as I can observe. My hand hovers over the PLAY button. A moment of hesitance. Why is this one voice-only, I wonder? What happened to Mac after this entry? Racking my brain from the news while at the Academy, I don¡¯t recall any substantial developments occurring at this point. But most importantly¡­ why is there a two-week gap between entry fifty-nine and sixty? No amount of thinking or speculation is going to answer any questions. Clenching my fist firmly, I release a sigh held hostage and tap the analog button. For the most part, the room isn¡¯t absorbed in the familiar holographic cloud. There is merely a one-dimensional heads-up display with a flat-line audio-visual. Finding myself oddly drawn into it, I find a chair and sit down on it slowly. Suddenly, the audio-visual picks up the noise. It¡¯s the ruffling of something light, like loose paper. Could MacKenzie be hiding the captain¡¯s log device? ¡°What is it, Buttermilch?¡± The voice is rather quiet; low-energy even. I can only barely recognize it as MacKenzie. A faint clearing of a voice. ¡°I want you to reconsider this,¡± Buttermilch answers. With the shuffling of feet; something creaks. Someone is either getting up or sitting on a chair. ¡°You don¡¯t have to do this.¡± No answer from MacKenzie. The audio visualizer flatness. ¡°Why are you doing this? Commander¡­¡± The visualizer picks up a nearby thump on a hard surface¡ªthe desk, maybe? Buttermilch continues. ¡°Why won¡¯t you answer me?¡± The frustration in his voice is noticeable. Yet¡­ it¡¯s calm but slightly aggressive. The visualizer has a slight climb as, I¡¯m guessing, MacKenzie draws out a sigh. There¡¯s a long creak¡ªthe sound of someone rising to their feet, followed by Buttermilch speaking. ¡°What went through your mind, Mac? There¡¯s no reason for¡ª¡° Faint footsteps cuts off Buttermilch, as MacKenzie seemingly circles the desk to approach her subordinate. MacKenzie doesn¡¯t say a thing, leaving Buttermilch to continue where he left off. ¡°Edger is furious, you know. After you left the meeting he tried to change the Admiral¡¯s mind. This isn¡¯t right¡ªeveryone¡¯s shocked¡­ but they respect your decision¡­!¡± a slight flat line, ¡°but it¡¯s not the right decision¡­!¡± A sharp rise in the visualizer, like the sound of someone¡¯s shoulders getting clasped. ¡°There¡¯s still time to reconsider, Mac.¡± MackKenzie¡¯s soft, mellowed-out voice takes over the visualizer. ¡°The alternative¡­¡± she begins ¡°the lengths command plans to go through¡­ it¡¯s inhumane. What I wish to do, and what I want to avoid that outcome is my duty. I don¡¯t want to have to go through that again. I don¡¯t want to let innocent people die from what command concludes is a hopeless cause.¡± Buttermilch is quick to rebuff, the simmering anger in his voice. ¡°What was it you told me once? Do you remember? To not dwell on the past? That every officer weighs difficult decisions?! ¡°How is your volunteering for a suicidal venture any different from theirs?! It won¡¯t change a thing¡­!¡± The visualizer trails off into a flat line for several seconds. The shuffling of feet follows after¡ªthen more silence before the Commander speaks. ¡°I cannot simply stand on the sidelines and watch as they die meaningless deaths.¡± ¡°That won¡¯t happen!¡± Buttermilch¡¯s voice is raised. Making me recoil in surprise. ¡°I doubt admiral DeRyck would go to insane lengths to let men under his command die¡­!¡± ¡°One day,¡± MacKenzie begins, ¡°one day, you will understand the madness of men. One day you will grasp the gist of what I want to do. What you failed to accomplish, what you could¡¯ve done¡­ even if that means sacrifice. One¡¯s sacrifice may be tragic over the lives of thousands, but¡­¡± ¡°You¡¯re selfish,¡± Buttermilch says coldly. ¡°This is borderline suicide.¡± What happens next I can¡¯t make out. There¡¯s a swift moment of feet, then nothing. One of them sighs¡ªpossibly MacKenzie. Whatever it is, it must¡¯ve been tense. ¡°You¡¯re holding back?¡± ¡°No, you¡¯re right,¡± she answers. ¡°There reaches a point where my regrets have surpassed logic. This crisis simply had it all crashing down. If I simply stand back¡­ I don¡¯t want to go through that nightmare again.¡± Buttermilch clears his throat. ¡°Whatever happened to learning from the past¡­¡± he begins, ¡°not letting your past get the best of you? To learn from mistakes and accept that the past was set in stone¡­¡± MacKenzie cuts him off. ¡°The world is a bloody complicated mess, Kenneth. What we do in our field of business is nothing short of irrational decisions one after another. Sometimes, good people make bad decisions. Sometimes, even that extends to our civvie leadership with their out-of-touch directives,¡± a brief pause as she sighs. ¡°Desperate times instigate desperate measures. When they pass down orders to figures such as DeRyck, no matter how delusional and warped the orders are, the responsibility trickles down to the boots on the ground. ¡°And sometimes, people like me have to do what we can to rightfully set what we perceive as wrong,¡± she finishes. The visualizer trails off but picks up as Buttermilch begins to speak. ¡°Mac¡­¡± he starts with a sigh, ¡°even so, that responsibility lies with our ground counterparts¡­¡± ¡°Why won¡¯t you get it, Buttermilch?!¡± MacKenzie angrily retorts. The shuffling of footsteps makes the visualizer go haywire. ¡°It¡¯s bloody damn hypocritical¡­ but I¡¯d rather die standing for what I firmly believe in than let it slide and be haunted by my nightmares for the rest of my bloody life. There are cases like this in our careers where we must not be passive and take a stand¡­ to learn from our past and not make the same bloody mistakes¡ªrepeatedly!¡± Buttermilch offers no resistance this time, only sighing in defeat. I lean onto the table, intrigued by this heated conversation over what¡¯s right or wrong. MacKenzie sighs in response. ¡°Was that all, Buttermilch?¡± A moment of silence as Buttermilch seemingly ponders the question. He answers, ¡°I suppose it is, ma¡¯am.¡± The sound of fabric as Buttermilch lifts an arm to salute. Another extended sigh through his nostrils. ¡°If you are hellbent on this decision, and if the Admiral permits it, I will let you do as you insist¡­ I wish you earnest luck, Mac.¡± The audio visualizer goes quiet as Buttermilch moves away. But it¡¯s broken as MacKenzie calls out to him. ¡°Kenneth¡­ wait,¡± she says. After a bit of shuffling, then I can make out something being brandished. Buttermilch begins. ¡°What is this¡­?¡± he asks. A small surprised scoff. ¡°You don¡¯t mean to¡­?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve held onto this for a long time,¡± MacKenzie says despondently. ¡°I want you to have it. That¡¯s an order.¡± Buttermilch clears his throat. ¡°That isn¡¯t¡­ this isn¡¯t fair, you can¡¯t just¡­¡± both of them sigh. The clenching of something¡­ metallic¡ªor plastic, something fragile like glasses frames. It¡¯s hard to distinguish the sound exactly. ¡°This is you, Mac. I can¡¯t just accept a part of you like this¡­¡± his voice trembles, a slight spike as he clears his throat. ¡°This is making it sound like a goodbye.¡± MacKenzie replies in her frail voice, ¡°More or less,¡± the visualizer picks up on Buttermilch slightly scoffing. ¡°I can¡¯t think of anyone else who would be better suited to have it than you. I don¡¯t think highly of Edgar enough to give it to him. It¡¯s just a pair of sunglasses at the end of the day.¡± Sunglasses¡­ I don¡¯t ever recall Buttermilch ever wearing them on his person. Glancing around the room wondering where it could be as Buttermilch continues. ¡°I don¡¯t¡­ deserve this, but¡­¡± Buttermilch clears his throat with some difficulty, ¡°I have to follow an order, so I¡¯ll hold onto it¡ªfor you, Commander.¡± A morbid thought crosses through my mind: It couldn¡¯t still be on his person, could it? The sudden fascination with this mystical yet ordinary pair of sunglasses stops me in my tracks. Even if I did find it, what would I do with it¡­? ¡°You¡¯ll be waiting a long time for that,¡± is her response. There¡¯s no sound of Buttermilch relenting. I grit my teeth, clenching my fist tightly so hard the nails dig into my palm. The air of silence that follows is long. Any moment now I expect either of them to say something¡ªbut there is nothing but the eerily silence and the ambiance of the Yilan humming. It feels like minutes pass before the visualizer picks up the hiss of the door opening and closing. No parting words from either, nothing. And even if there were, it must¡¯ve been too low for the captain¡¯s log device to pick up. Footsteps, then the visualizer freaks out¡ªcovering my ears, it¡¯s too abrupt and loud¡ªas MacKenzie presumably picks up the recorder. If there¡¯s any danger of someone getting curious and peeking in, this would be pretty dangerous but fumbling for the volume control would be too late now. ¡°If this wounds up being my final recording,¡± MacKenzie muses, ¡°it¡¯ll be interesting evidence for Edgar, or even Buttermilch to reflect on.¡± More of that confusing muffled sound¡ªthen the recording ends. I stand there in awe. Dumbfounded about what to make of any of this. Indeed, peeking at the rest of the entries¡ªbut hesitation makes me press the dial to show the previous list of entries¡ªI manage to glimpse a two week-gap indicated by the four entries of Edgar that cuts off in early twenty-eighteen. There is not a single entry that is lengthy to the extent of MacKenzie¡¯s. Just about all of Edgar¡¯s are concise, hardly more than a minute, and only voice recordings. This might be indicating, perhaps, it¡¯s right around where the Yilan awaited being mothballed or further upgrades. But what happened to Mackenzie? Did she recover? Did she come back? The desire to scroll down once, hoping to see any mention of MacKenzie¡ªhoping for closure. Reluctant to scroll again, I stop. What if she does show up again? What if it¡¯s Buttermilch¡¯s name that pops up next? Brushing aside the resistance, I draw up the courage to press the dial one more time¡ªthe last-ditch grasp to stop myself pushed aside. I tap not once, but twice. Once to show Edgar¡¯s four entries, and once to show only the immediate next entry. It¡¯s not either MacKenzie or Edgar, but a unique one. I freeze and press back on the dial. I lean against the table, tapping its surface. Could there be a deleted record after entry fifty-nine, I wonder? It¡¯s possible¡­ My mind switches gears: thoughts other than MacKenzie or data entries. The sunglasses. I take one step away to freely wander around the table, eyes darting around in search of any glasses. Carefully brushing aside books and setting more on the table, I conclude that it¡¯s unlikely he would have set them down before he came to the bridge that fateful day. Unless¡­? My eyes are drawn to the desk drawers. Reluctant at first, I push back against the anxiety and wrap my hand around the knob, opening it slowly, discreetly. Holding my breath in anticipation of finding an eyewear case or the glasses themselves, my expectations are instead averted with several stacks of faded envelopes with unintelligible text. A sigh for air at the silly situation I put myself in. A slight chuckle. I take one out after another, placing them neatly on the dusty table. My heart races when I find what I¡¯m looking for: a slim, light tan case tucked between two pieces of paper. Slowly, I reach for it. It¡¯s leather, and I caress its surprisingly rough texture. Its soothing surface tickles my fingertips. My heart pounds with reserved excitement as I delicately open its side strap, this mere mundane task rewarding me with a small click. So mundane, but it¡¯s a musical note to my ears. I tilt the case delicately, and the object of my curiosity slides onto my palm. Its ash-white metal frames glisten imaginatively in the lit room. Thin in my hands, but still sturdy. Its large, oddly-shaped jet-black glasses have a certain tint to them, reflecting a perplexed young woman almost perfectly. Her mouth moves slowly and in awe, and reading her lips she seems to say, ¡°he kept it after all this time.¡± Buttermilch kept it all this time. Does that mean¡­ I immediately try to suppress the thought, but it persists and slips through the cracks¡­ could that entail MacKenzie never made it back? My lips tremble, and I do my best to suppress the awful thought by biting down on them. I clench the sunglasses¡ªslowly. Just tight enough so I don¡¯t crush them by accident. Could¡­ could he have left them here for me to find? Finding myself getting worked up, I take several deep breaths. Unsure of what to think of this. Unsure of what to do next. Aimless, directionless. It¡¯s almost¡­ it almost feels like he wanted this to happen. He wanted to pass this on to me. No. Stop out of it, Victoria. I slip the sunglasses back into their case, slowly, as if time tried to stall the inevitable. I set the case down¡ªbriefly. Staring at it, intently, for a lapsing moment. I pick it up and gently put it in the drawer, sliding it inch by inch. I turn for the door. If I spent any longer running through the gauntlet, it¡¯ll only tear my heart apart. I don¡¯t think Buttermilch would want me to do this to myself. He didn¡¯t sacrifice himself for me to dwell on the past. He didn¡¯t push me so I could wonder why it wasn¡¯t me. Sometimes, it is best to let the past be the past. Some things are not meant to open up painful wounds. But an invisible force tugs at me. An incomprehensible thought stops me in my tracks. It¡¯s as if this natural entity tells me there¡¯s more to uncover here. There¡¯s more sorrow to put myself through so I can truly get it all off my chest. So I can live life without regret, without worry. It¡¯s those kinds of thoughts that could never possibly go away unless I confront them head-on. A perfect about-face, one that only drill instructor Putsch shed manly a single manly tear over. Heh, a scoff escapes my lips only briefly. I wonder where he is now? I never did see Putsch after we were shipped off to the Yilan. The thought of the hardass mate being a Major Pukeface is only as humorous as ever. Picking up the captain¡¯s log device, it weighs like nothing, unless my earthly regrets. With this simple but practical device, I tap to show entries past fifty-nine. Past what I may describe as the point of no-return, the entry name EDGER disappears almost entirely after entry sixty-four after tapping the dial twice. From that point onwards, there is only one name that stands out from others. A name practically imprinted into me. A name that once meant an eye roll and getting chewed out for a collar being wrinkly or my shirt being untucked. It¡¯s the name of someone who deducted me points whenever I did not succeed in a ranked wargame. A name after a scribble of notes criticizing me on such assignments but outlining his positive thoughts about unorthodox tactics, out-of-textbook examples we¡¯re meant to study and apply, but I resisted simply because of the implication of being predictable and easy to counter. It¡¯s a name that I¡¯ve come to respect. A name whose voice I will no longer hear and help guide me in life, despite what little tutorage he could offer during his minimal spare time. But it¡¯s those glimpses of his insight that I¡¯ve come to drown myself in. BUTTERMILCH. I try to stifle the emotional impact. A long-imprisoned renegade tear escapes imprisonment and makes landfall on the device¡¯s screen. For a moment, the letters I and l are muddled by the escaped convict. Forcing myself to read the rest of the screen, entries sixty-five to seventy-one, his entries from the day of the Yilan¡¯s departure to his last. I read down and savor every bit of context of columns and rows that they offer. The drip of context that they supply me with.
65/71 10TH AUGUST 219 BUTTERMILCH 15MINS, VOICE
[66/71 3RD SEPTEMBER 219 BUTTERMILCH 14MINS, VOICE
67/71 27TH DECEMBER 219 BUTTERMILCH 6MINS, VOICE
68/71 10TH FEBRUARY 220 BUTTERMILCH 1MIN, VOICE
69/71 3RD JUNE 220 BUTTERMILCH 4MINS, VOICE
70/71 27TH JULY 220 BUTTERMILCH 2MINS, VOICE
71/71 14th AUGUST 220 BUTTERMILCH 1HOUR 43MINS, HOLO
All the determination I had, the desire and human will to march on simply crumples. It¡¯s washed away by a sense of disbelief. I stand there, somehow satisfied that I overcame my fears but succumb to the realization that he truly is gone. He¡¯s gone. And that¡­ perhaps, unwillingly, unintentionally, is his final testament. His final words to this world. An encapsulation of a man who knew not that perhaps mere hours or mere minutes, his last utterance to anyone, resides in this recording. A recording tucked away and perhaps never meant to be opened. The voice of someone who should still be alive and standing here, but instead read by the very person he protected. It¡¯s an acknowledgment that he once lived, and he¡¯ll exist as more than just simply a tombstone inscribed with a simple name, his date of birth, and his date of death. Ignoring all the others, I press down on the dial to activate the recording. And a few several steps back: back still to the recording. In an instant, the shrouds of blue pixelation mist consume the eccentric-maple red room in the past of yesterday. August fourteen, year two-twenty. Sometime before 14:00 hours. A clack of my boots, one foot cocked. Another soft thud as my boot hits the floor. Vision blurs briefly. I turn around, back to that moment¡ªback to that oblivious moment. Back when I lived in a nightmare no one was prepared for. That innocence I still held and never knew I missed. The naive young woman who was dead-set determined to meet Buttermilch, and left his presence, for what may have been the last time, at ease, clueless of what was to immediately unfold right before our eyes. Standing before me is a digital man¡ªa mere equation of ones and zeroes now but a proud, patriotic man of the Federation. The third former Commander of the CC014 MSN Yilan, from August twenty-nineteen to August twenty-twenty. His shoulders. Large and broad. Large, man hands¡ªyet kind in nature¡ªcupped professionally behind his back. It¡¯s him. But it¡¯s not him. It¡¯s a mere snapshot¡ªfootage of a man that once was. A man in his prime. A man at the cusp of his career. A man who has caused me so much trouble as much as I caused him because of my father. A man with a chip on his shoulder when it came to me¡ªyet at the same time, a spirit who cheered me on silently¡­ even though I thought nothing of it. Someone who indescribably made me who I am. I can¡¯t help but salute. The clacks from my boots are nearly deafening. Chapter 99: Embers of Ishtar | Through the Gauntlet | Part 4 [End] - Kenneth Buttermilch Commander Kenneth Buttermilch sighs heavily. He turns to the right. One step, two steps. His thick brow bent as he stares at the ground. A look of disbelief? Perhaps at someone who shouldn¡¯t have been found¡ªbut relieved he finally gets to tell a tale? The Commander¡¯s train of thought breaks¡ªthe man looks up at me. His captivating cyan eyes with a hint of green reticle seemingly penetrates through time itself¡ªand javelins straight through my soul. The cells keeping their watery convicts sealed can¡¯t help but shatter into an ocean from the impact. ¡°Well,¡± the Commander says, scratching his clean-shaven chin, ¡°I lost my train of thought there, but,¡± he frowns¡ªor a thinly disguised smirk. ¡°If I recall correctly this is entry seventy-two or seventy-three.¡± I stiffen up, my knees hurting as if his words are like piercing arrows. ¡°Commander Kenneth Buttermilch of the MSN Yilan,¡± Buttermilch recites. His crystalline gaze darts the room as if calculating what to say or not. He opens his mouth to speak but remains silent. He walks from behind the desk towards me. I do my best to maintain pose¡ªthe simple desire to see this through to the end, with professionalism that was drilled into me. All the while, the tears are left unchecked, streaming down my face. Doing what I can to keep my chin up. But the closer Buttermilch gets, the more I find myself racked with anxiety. The guilt beats with ease and without issue. ¡°It should¡­¡± I gasp, ¡°it should be you that¡ª¡° The holographic ghost cuts me off. ¡°I can¡¯t even remember the last time I even made a recording,¡± I want to cup my mouth. But I refuse to yield. The carnal desire to break down in front of Buttermilch is simply too much¡ªbut this must be done. This has to happen. Buttermilch continues¡ªas if waiting for me to hold it together. Letting me have this moment to myself, undisturbed. As if he knew this would happen¡ªthat he knew what was to come. As if he¡¯s been there himself, trying not to show weakness one last time. ¡°I give my bonafide green officer cadets so much flak,¡± Buttermilch scoffs¡ªand he scoffs. ¡°Yet, I can¡¯t stick to a schedule. That lousy Edgar was just as on-point as MacKenzie,¡± Buttermilch glances at me¡ªor rather, I force myself to make contact with him. ¡°I suppose at the end of the day, I¡¯m just as much a slacker as her and the rest of the cadets¡­ and, they¡¯ve done so much. They¡¯re a good crop of officers. And I¡¯m proud to have served with them. ¡°It is a titanic shame, I suppose, that they must go through that experience in a time of conflict like this. No young man or woman should ever have to go through with such a careless, poorly thought out military action like this,¡± Buttermilch says. The commander paces around me without another word. Buttermilch finishes the loop by walking to his desk. Buttermilch turns around swiftly, his gaze occasionally catching me in his grasp. After a deep breath, Buttermilch continues his monologue, ¡°there¡¯s so much I wanted to talk to Victoria about. So much more¡­ insight into what it meant to be an officer. Maybe more, maybe more as a person. As a person in charge of others and who has the power to make a difference. ¡°I suppose¡­¡± Buttermilch enters a silence, he leans on his desk, glaring at his glass of alcohol that he had sipped when we first attacked mere moments ago. He extends a hand to it but relents. His holographic hand clench tightly, then relaxes so he can support himself leaning on the table. Buttermilch continues, shifting one leg on the table to rest more properly. ¡°Soldiers should not be subject to risky orders. Risky with no sense of reward. Risks that shouldn¡¯t have too much to ask for in blood. It¡¯s hard to tell if the Commodore¡¯s decision will reflect that. This is a risky mission¡­ but it may be a justified one. The fact of the matter is¡ªa lot of it is circumferential. I imagine that is why the Commodore may have thought. But even so¡­ our mission is not Toscana. It is the Frankish Domain¡ªit is Brenaco,¡± Buttermilch finishes by planting both feet back on the ground. He tucks his hands behind his back again. Several steps toward me before stopping. ¡°What might be, what might not be¡­ we simply do not know until the matter comes. What was it I was venting about?¡± Buttermilch winces. ¡°Democracy be damned, but¡­¡± a heavy, hesitating sigh. ¡°It might also work in our favor. The circumcision evidence works in so many ways. We can eliminate piracy once and for all¡ªthere might be nothing in the Toscana capitol to oppose us. We can practically walk right in. ¡°Hell, they might even welcome us with open arms.¡± I couldn¡¯t believe what I was hearing. Buttermilch returns to sit on the desk, grunting as he does so. Once again the Commander rests his chin on one knee. Buttermilch clears his throat and begins, ¡°there might not be any worry about us splitting up the fleet. We could knock out two birds with one stone.¡± Buttermilch¡¯s gaze absentmindedly falls on me¡ªI refrain with all my might from looking away. ¡°Maybe Victoria and I were wrong¡ª¡° just the utterance of the name is enough to make me buckle. My arms, held up this whole time, shake violently. But I persist. I do it because I have to. ¡°If a person like Victoria was in charge,¡± a long draw of silence, ¡°if she was born so much earlier¡­ commander, commodore¡­ admiral,¡± he lists off each rank slowly. His head tilted, but looks up at me as he continues, ¡°I have high faith in her. ¡°I know that one day she will succeed where I have failed.¡± ¡°What have you failed, exactly?!¡± I blurt out, gritting my teeth. It¡¯s harder to breathe, harder to stay calm. Buttermilch muses. ¡°My failures, huh?¡± He scoffs. A nod. ¡°I suppose I succeeded somewhere¡ªI helped our officer cadets grow and improve their skills. I pushed them to the breaking point during simulation and testing.¡± Another scoff from the former commander. It practically murders me that this was the last time he would ever laugh. I took that away from him. I took that right to laugh and cry, to enjoy life away from him. Buttermilch continues; a sly smile creeps up on his face. ¡°The drill sergeants and academic instructors merely broke their spirit, I wonder if I broke their soul? Ha, ha.¡± I want to laugh, I want to chuckle and bounce the joke off him. I want to gasp and tell him he did more in nearly a year of training than any of them have done over three or four periods. ¡°But I had to, because if they don¡¯t learn anything then, they would be ill-prepared for the future. ¡°And when that future happens, the risks and costs would be enormous. There wouldn¡¯t be as many bright futures¡ªfewer children and grandchildren to come. Future generations may look back at this and wonder if it was the right choice to make.¡± Buttermilch twiddles his thumbs. He glances for what seems like an eternity at the shot glass next to him. And this time, he caves, and downs the contents of the small glass. Buttermilch carefully sets it down. He reclines a little, his head shaking as he grimaces at the awful liquid. Buttermilch grabs the glass again, twirling the tiny thing in his hands as he begins to speak. ¡°Humanity has been making this dreadful alcohol to consume for nearly ten million years,¡± Buttermilch says. ¡°There¡¯s this saying that the dog, which exists and essentially subjected itself as man¡¯s companion simply because it does not know how to exist on its own¡­ Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road. ¡°Or maybe they had forgone the knowledge¡ªat the expense of their descendants how to exist for themselves¡ªhow does such an animal come to be delegated as man¡¯s best friend? ¡°Was allowing themselves to be domesticated better for them as a species?¡± Buttermilch muses, lowering the glass onto his lap, ¡°or were they better off not being man¡¯s best friend? In any case¡­ the matter is much the same as our predicament we are now in.¡± Buttermilch examines the shot glass, running his thumb along the rimming. ¡°But what does that make alcohol? Does it exist as a way for us to cope with our misgivings? Or do we rely on it as a clutch so it takes responsibility for our deeds? For the last ten million years, I imagine military commanders muse over the same thing. ¡°And I imagine for the next ten million years, someone will sit down and ask themselves the same question,¡± Buttermilch says. ¡°It exists to take the blame, I reckon.¡± Buttermilch sets the glass down. ¡°How else can we come to terms with what may be our greatest regrets? ¡°Sometimes, we drink it in celebration. We drink for those that couldn¡¯t. And I hope after this campaign ends¡ª¡° I can feel my heart rip itself in two ¡°that I will not have to drink at all: I will not drink to cope and I will not drink to celebrate with those who couldn¡¯t make it.¡± ¡°But¡­¡± Buttermilch begins, ¡°everything begins to happen for a reason. Isn¡¯t that right, Victoria?¡± I freeze, goosebumps all over. ¡°Once, when I was young¡ªI begin having this interesting dream¡ªno,¡± Buttermilch shakes his head. ¡°Less of a dream. I usually don¡¯t recall my dreams. But when I do, it¡¯s only this one¡­ so maybe it¡¯s more of a premonition?¡± Premonition? My eyes wander processing what he means. I could feel my blood freeze. I bite down on my lip. He doesn¡¯t possibly mean¡­? Buttermilch stands but still rests against the table. His arms crossed. Like me, his eyes wander off, as if searching for something. ¡°I remember it almost perfectly¡ªwhich is why I think it maybe wasn¡¯t a dream. I was alone¡ªstanding on a plane¡ªit was hazy except for my immediate surroundings. And next to me¡­ a figure. As time went on, I had no idea who it was. ¡°It didn¡¯t matter if I called out to them. I couldn¡¯t move at all¡ªmostly. I was stuck in place, staring into the shrouded void. Of course, things became clearer the older I got. Bit by bit, the dream became clear. It was a woman. One of average build. She wore a uniform which back then¡ªit didn¡¯t make sense to me, but now, I started to understand.¡± No, I want to scream. Don¡¯t say anymore. I don¡¯t want to hear it. My knees buckle with each urge to shout at him to stop. But as if ignoring me, Buttermilch continued. ¡°A young, beautiful woman. The older I got, the less distance there was between us. It¡¯s as if¡­¡± Buttermilch tilts his head, scrambling to think of something to say despite my pleading silent screams. ¡°It¡¯s as if fate was beckoning for me to interact with her¡ªin some way or form. But¡­ no matter what I did or said, she wouldn¡¯t answer. ¡°She wouldn¡¯t respond to anything, I couldn¡¯t move my legs. Whenever I reached out to grab her, the dream would end¡ªjust as something fast came in front of us. As time went on, I would give up and watch as whatever it was impaled her.¡± ¡°B-Buttermilch, please,¡± I gasp, the tears rejuvenating, ¡°I don¡¯t want to¡ª¡° Undeterred, the commander continued. ¡°In the times I didn¡¯t bother reaching out to her, I watched that sequence, over and over. I watched a woman of my dreams die, repeatedly, and this would go on for years. ¡°Needless to say, it was always haunting. But the more haunting thing was I was powerless to do anything. I literally couldn¡¯t do anything. But I want to say¡­ for a while, it stopped. And I never knew why. Did divine judgment give up on me?¡± Buttermilch muses, and he looks up at me¡ªno, staring directly into my soul. ¡°Was I so hopeless in preventing this woman from dying¡ªrepeatedly, for all eternity? Or was there more to the dream?¡± I want to tackle him and tell him to stop. I want to grab him by the collar and scream¡ªbeg him to stop. But it wouldn¡¯t make a difference. I¡¯m frozen. I¡¯m powerless. All I can do is stare and listen helplessly. Buttermilch clears his throat, never once breaking his gaze off me. ¡°It wasn¡¯t until this morning that I got the full picture, and perhaps, until now, reflecting on the whole situation and that dream. Did it finally make sense? ¡°I was on a ship bridge. A ship bridge that I¡¯m all too familiar with being on, in a spot that I usually find myself in¡­ and thinking about it, it spooked me at first. Knowing what that spot may entail. There was no one else around¡ªexcept for that woman.¡± I drop to my knees, the tears becoming a big blot on the carpet. ¡°Buttermilch¡­¡± I mutter. ¡°That woman was younger than I remember. She had long wavy hair, a blue, well-kept uniform. I couldn¡¯t make out her face¡ªit was covered by the shadow of her hat. Her attention wasn¡¯t on me¡ªbut ahead of us.¡± Buttermilch stops, as if waiting for me to settle down¡ªand continues it¡¯s apparent my uncontrollable sobbing doesn¡¯t stop. ¡°The same thing happens¡ªafter a few moments of curiosity, the fast object comes flying at us¡ªand I leap forward. I leap into a run and push her out of the way. I have no idea who this is¡ªthis person who haunted my dreams if only for a brief moment for most of my life. I just know I saved her life. I saved her from suffering that same grueling impalement every time. ¡°But, interestingly enough,¡± Buttermilch continues, ¡°it didn¡¯t end there that time. I saw her again¡ªin front of me this time. But our surroundings were in a¡­¡± Buttermilch stops, and I look up to see him pinching his brow. ¡°I forgot the rest of it. I took steps toward her, and the dream ended. ¡°I wonder what the meaning of that premonition was¡­?¡± ¡°You knew all along,¡± I gasp, trying to dry the tears. ¡°You knew all along¡­ you knew all along you were going to¡ª¡° ¡°I suppose I should wrap this up,¡± Buttermilch cuts me off. He gets to his feet, moving past me. Disappearing¡­ for good, into that familiar mist. To the bridge, to the spot of predetermination¡ªlike second nature to him. To that spot that means death. I jump to my feet, intent on grabbing him¡­ intent on chasing after a ghost to stop him and plead. ¡°I hope that after all of this is over,¡± Buttermilch continues, stopping me in place. ¡°Buttermilch,¡± I beg, ¡°please¡­ please don¡¯t go. Don¡¯t go to that bridge. It¡¯s not worth it,¡± the tear ducts shift gears again. Seeing that holographic ghost become blurry and distorted haunts me like no other experience I¡¯ve ever had. ¡°Don¡¯t disappear on me¡ªjust let me die, Buttermilch. Just let me die.¡± Buttermilch turns to face me, and I stumble to stand upright. His pained expression¡ªthat look of what he has to do¡ªof the duty he must fulfill. No amount of tears will bring him back. No amount of grief will reverse what will happen mere minutes from now. Buttermilch is dead. He will go there to die. He will push me out of the way¡ªsomething that has been subconsciously wired into him for decades. I will live. I will live a life that was meant to be cut tragically short. Buttermilch looks at me all over, a smile forms along his face. ¡°I hope that one day¡­ when everything is all over. I will apologize to Victoria. Maybe share a drink with her someday¡ªperhaps long after we¡¯re both retired.¡± Buttermilch phases through me¡ªa considerable shiver overcomes me. I turn around, freezing to see him pick up the recording device and look back at me. ¡°But for now,¡± he continues, ¡°I hope we can just all survive.¡± And just like that, Buttermilch is gone. Forever. The last fleeting memory of a man just disintegrates before my eyes as the holographic recording ends. I drop to my knees. My body shakes uncontrollably. My sobs and hiccups fill the room. Unsure what to do now, aimless. My purpose here is fulfilled¡ªa filling of nothingness after the fact. I struggle to get up, my arms just shaking too terribly. I use what strength I have to wobble over to the table for a breather. I sit at the edge of the table, slowly recollecting my thoughts on everything. I take several deep breaths, turning to open the drawer and taking out Mackenzie¡¯s sunglasses. I twirl the pair in my hand, opening and closing the arms. ¡°So that¡¯s that, huh?¡± I mutter, rubbing my throat. A feeble response to everything that just transpired. A hint of humor. Of course, I knew the answer already. A thought crossed my mind: coming here wasn¡¯t the end goal¡ªit was part of it. I still have to visit Buttermilch¡¯s body. Just for some closure, to release what grief I have left. Otherwise, I feel, coming only here specifically wouldn¡¯t change a thing. I could say this was only in preparation for the real deal. Buttermilch¡¯s temporary resting place¡ªto address him directly. If I don¡¯t, then I feel all of this will be for naught. It would make me feel as though I¡¯m still running through the gauntlet¡ªjust barely short of the finish line. If I don¡¯t finish it, everything I would¡¯ve done would be for naught. I slip the sunglasses back into their case, caressing the leathery container before clenching it tightly. I want to leave no loose ends before the forthcoming operation begins. No regrets. If I don¡¯t make my peace with Buttermilch now¡­ who knows what might happen in the future? With a heavy sigh, I push myself off the table and make my way to the door. I turn around, casually, and perform a final salute. Afterward, I clack my boots together one last time, and about-face. Heading out of the dark, crimson room to seek out the last lap of the gauntlet. Chapter 100: Embers of Ishtar | End of Regret The temperature down here is unpleasantly cold. The only time I¡¯ve felt this nippy was when my old man would forget to turn on our house heater¡ªor rolling blackouts in the neighborhood. It¡¯s strange having those memories now. Huddling up with Friederika and telling ghost stories to each other¡­ they¡¯re nothing but fading nostalgia now. The last remnants of innocence I had, burning at an extraordinarily slow pace into ashes and nothingness. Cripes, it¡¯s unprecedentedly cold. My hands and cheeks are getting numb by the second, this suit barely helping me to keep it together. I have no idea it could even drop to these temperatures down here. I¡¯ve never been in this part of the Yilan¡ªnever had to, given my usual postings doing busy man work and cadet studying. Even when given the chance, I usually stayed clear of this section of the ship. For all my time here¡ªat least before the Toscana campaign¡ªthe older technicians and engineers would gossip about all the horror stories of the ¡°accidents¡± and shady business going on the lower decks. In the ¡°glory days¡± of the Yilan, its rank-and-file personnel¡ªthat is, the sailors and technicians assigned to the ¡°deep depths¡± of the bottom decks weren¡¯t necessarily the chaps you would want to accidentally bump shoulders with on the sidewalk. I stop briefly, the walls and floors of the corridor, much like every corridor in this section, are marble and gray. Piss yellow pipelines expand out and zig-zag forever. Yet, there is no grime, no signs of discarded items or cigarette butts, let alone booze and such. For such a remote area it¡¯s surprisingly clean. Ever since I descended from the elevator, the only interaction I had with another person was with the Old Man. Despite our brief interactions with loading missiles at the beginning of Lucky Alphonse, I never got his name and it was only then I discovered he is a seaman named Lucas Perat. Lucas more or less told me the same story that all the other experienced sailors say: that this was not a very welcoming place for younger cadets and such. He mused that the only time any amount of people came down here was to deliver the caskets to the cargo holds. But why was the hold in such a¡­ hard-to-reach area? Lucas couldn¡¯t answer that, or maybe he didn¡¯t want to. The only other thing he said was that D-4 and D-5 were often where ¡°gentlemen settled their differences¡± back then, given that officers rarely went down there without good reason. In other words, it wasn¡¯t out of the ordinary for murders to occur. I take a deep breath, my lips are freezing. I clasp my ears, rubbing them as I examine the pasty walls obstructed by the piss pipes, and faded papers hanging loosely from black bulletin boards. Of course, those don¡¯t happen anymore. But Lucas did warn me this: that the cargo levels were haunted. Even just bringing it up now, I want to crack a grin. Poltergeists in this day and age are prosperous. I knew Lucas is merely pulling my leg¡ªgetting his kicks out of giving a young woman a simple spook, but I acted dumb and played along for the senile old bean. But still¡­ Lucas said it all with a straight face. No hint of a suppressed smirk or body language to suggest otherwise. He¡¯s a wise man. I would say even as wise as my old man, but maybe that¡¯s a stretch. Lucas is like a dying breed of a hard-working man with a dulled sense of humor. It¡¯s a wonder why he¡¯s still a seaman¡­ he could¡¯ve simply just been conscripted like most of the rank-and-file, but I doubt it. There¡¯s a lot of history to the man that remains to me an enigma. Even if he is merely jesting, I can¡¯t help but shake the feeling that it¡¯s true. The nightmares I had, the technospirtual encounter I had with Buttermilch¡­ it¡¯s too¡­ surreal. There¡¯s no making sense of it. It could merely be hallucination or trauma, I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t want to think about it. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I push on against the dreadful cold of the cargo hold. Just as I¡¯m about to, though, the corridor light flickers¡ªand a distant thump from behind me. I reel around. Expecting Lucas or someone else, but there¡¯s nothing¡ª A small metal bar rolls into the hallway, eventually finding itself stopped by a piss-colored pipeline protruding from the floor. I stand there, frozen, awaiting what would happen next. Expecting something¡ªanything out of a sappy low-budget film to jump out and chase me. I¡¯m just overthinking things, probably. Nothing does. The small metal bar rolls a little before stopping fully. I sigh with a suspension of disbelief, and not wanting to wait around for impending developments, I high-tail out of the corridor. Eventually, after a few twists and turns and following the signs indicating HOLD 3, the piss bars appear less, and the industrial corridors transition into more translucent blue features. It¡¯s not as exceptionally chilly now, but it¡¯s still nippy nonetheless. A bit of moisturized fog overhead, and some mechanical whines. It¡¯s a bit eerily, but I don¡¯t think much of it. The only thing I¡¯m focused on right now is the double mechanical door before me, with the words HOLD 3 CHAMBER in fine print on it. No keypads, or let alone a sentry on sight. True to what Lucas and the others say, it¡¯s a remote area. Maybe a little too remote? I grasp the steel¡ªits unusually cold¡ªhandle of the right door, prompting goosebumps all over. My stomach churns, and my feet suddenly cinder boxes. I caress my chest pocket where I hold the sunglasses. The last hesitation before crossing the Rubicon. ¡°Is this necessary?¡± I whisper, the only answer is the mechanical creaks of the Yilan, and my crystallized breath. ¡°Aren¡¯t I merely disturbing the dead by doing this? ¡°Would Buttermilch want me to do this?¡± It¡¯s a question that lies in the back of my mind this whole time. Would he want me to hurt myself emotionally over this? Would he want me to go out of my way to apologize over what is seemingly nothing¡­ over a catastrophe that was well beyond my reach? I don¡¯t know. I turn the handle, pushing with all my strength. A bit of pressurized air brushes my face. And I open my eyes to dozens of caskets in the huge chamber. It¡¯s almost pitch dark in here, except for the spherical lighting cast down on each downed serviceman and woman. Strong emotions are the next to brush against me. My knees buckle, and I rely on the partially opened door for support. It¡¯s heavy, and even with all my weight it doesn¡¯t budge any further. My lips tremble, despite biting down for suppression. It doesn¡¯t make a difference. My presence here makes no difference¡ªit has no purpose. It doesn¡¯t make any difference for them, it won¡¯t make any difference for me. I clear my throat, again pulling myself up with the support of the door. I push with my shoulder and knee, grunting a little to open it further so I can enter. My breaths become shorter and more frequent. I walk past the door, my last opposition slipping away from the handle. I clench my chest again, walking past several coffins whose persons I do not know. The lives I¡¯ve abruptly ended. Whose name I never knew, whose families will never see again. Whose children stay up all night wondering why mom and pops will never come home again? People I let down. It¡¯s almost humiliating being here, walking by without a word or batting an eye as if to dismiss that their sacrifices were for nothing, and it was all for nothing. They all literally had no reason to die. When I die, I¡¯ll apologize to you all myself. It¡¯s getting harder to keep my throat clear. I haven¡¯t inspected which one is Buttermilch¡¯s¡­ but simultaneously, I know¡ªperhaps subconsciously¡ªwhich one is his. Like by instinct I¡¯m simply drawn to it¡ªlike I hear his voice calling out to me through the silence¡ªI¡¯m here, come to me. There¡¯s just so many, as many as forty or fifty at a brief count. And that¡¯s just in this cargo chamber. It¡¯s pathetic to think I don¡¯t remember the exact amount of casualties we sustained; pitiful even. And all the same, I should be among them. And they¡¯re all identical down to the red palls placed over each one, right down to their ultimate demises. The actions¡ªor I suppose thereof¡ªof one singular person caused the misery of so many. A tug at the back of my mind¡ªdon¡¯t do this, let¡¯s leave. But I keep it pushed down under. It¡¯s the disgraced words of a true coward. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Before I know it, I¡¯m near the back of the holding. It¡¯s the second to last coffin, I stop just before the red pall laid out connecting all the coffins in a line. It¡¯s sacred ground, like a parasite stepping foot inside a high priest¡¯s temple. It¡¯s sacrilegious. With a deep breath, I step on the pall and take several more steps, kneeling as I get to the coffin¡ªButtermilch¡¯s coffin. I caress my chest pocket, slipping out the sunglasses case and holding it tightly. My eyes wander at the plain red pall covering the humble white-and-gray casket. I rest a hand on the cloth, sliding my hand gently across it, being careful not to wrinkle it too much. I have no idea what to say. My mind merely draws blanks. ¡°It¡¯s¡­¡± I mutter, trying to force a smirk, ¡°it¡¯s been something like a hot minute, hasn¡¯t it, Buttermilch?¡± Silence is the only answer. I can only imagine his scoffing, rubbing his temple as he scolds me to address him properly. ¡°If things were different¡­ if you were still¡­¡± I pause, rubbing the fine texture of the leather case. ¡°I visited your office earlier, Buttermilch. I¡­ I shouldn¡¯t have pried. If I was caught¡­ I knew I would be in a heap of whopping trouble. But I did it anyway. I pried into your past, into your recordings because¡­ ¡°Because¡­¡± I trail off, setting the case down on his casket. My knees are shaky. I do my best to remain calm. I can¡¯t afford to break down now. What would Buttermilch think? What would Buttermilch think? I scoff at the question again. We, the living, always believe we know what¡¯s best for the dead. We always believe they would¡¯ve wanted this or that, but it doesn¡¯t matter. They¡¯re dead. We merely hold this belief that they would want one thing or another to make us feel better about ourselves. I continue again, clearing my throat. ¡°It feels like ever since we retreated from Toscana¡­ things have been¡­¡± I trail off again, clearing my throat. Wiping the few premature tears forming, I take deep breaths and continue, ¡°we¡¯re about to embark on a new operation, Buttermilch. And¡­ I wanted to right what was wrong. I did what I couldn¡¯t do back then at Malabo. I went to the meeting discussing the details and gave my thoughts, and¡­¡± I stammer for the words of my thoughts, but it¡¯s getting increasingly hard to remain calm and composed befitting of the Toscana Heroine, of the Lucky Lady of Toscana, the one who bested the Madame Scarface. ¡°At the time¡­¡± I murmur, squeezing the sunglasses case, ¡°I thought I was doing the wrong thing. I wanted to¡­ live up to the expectations I have of myself, and that others had of me. You see, Buttermilch,¡± I force a smile, and it¡¯s as if the tears, biding their time, make their move. ¡°I¡­ I wanted to be the Toscana Heroine. I wanted to make a difference and save lives. It¡¯s all I wanted to do,¡± I look around at the comrades I¡¯ve let down. ¡°I wanted to prevent another Lucky Alphonse. But¡­ I was too caught up in the moment, Buttermilch. ¡°I¡­ the Admiral wanted to spread out his units. He wanted to assault several colonies at once. I panicked, Buttermilch. I was too unprepared for what I was doing. I suggested to the Admiral that we should focus our efforts on the main colony¡­ in a way, I suggested that we risk throwing away all our assets in one location¡­ ¡°But was it the right choice, Buttermilch?¡± I ask in vain. I scan the room, the silence deafening, disheartening. ¡°Did I make the right call, Buttermilch? Did I help in avoiding another catastrophe? How can I live with myself if it all goes wrong? If I have to sit back and await news that we suffered yet another disaster?¡± I wipe away tears with my cuffs, breathing in slowly. My knees give out, and I struggle to keep myself upright. ¡°They call me a hero, Buttermilch. How can I be a hero when I let you all die? Why did it have to be me? I¡¯m no Toscana Heroine. I¡¯m no Lucky Lady of Toscana. What¡¯s so lucky about living with guilt that I¡¯ve¡­ that I¡¯ve simply let people die for my success? Success I never even desired. ¡°Even when we were retreating from Toscana. I remained a coward. I was spineless in watching any of it unfold. I hid and had a panic attack, with nothing but a puke bag to get me through it. I was too stunned. I was too scared out of my mind¡­ that¡¯s no way to live, Buttermilch. If you saw me then, I¡¯m sure you would¡¯ve been gravely disappointed¡­ and yet, I did what no one else did at the time. ¡°I¡¯m simply no better than that damn bloody Commodore. I¡¯m just a young girl, Buttermilch. It should¡¯ve been me that died¡­ even though you had all those nightmares about saving me, maybe¡­ your visions were wrong. You should¡¯ve let me die, and I wouldn¡¯t be suffering. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have to live the rest of my life living in shame for what I¡¯ve done. So many of you could be alive and well, too, but I robbed each one of you of that privilege of being alive. ¡°Do you think each person here was sure they¡¯d die? Do you think if they knew, they¡¯d use every last drop of strength to die without shame? We were all so naive, Buttermilch. I wish you had let me come with you¡­ that way, there would be no suffering. This cargo hold would be empty. The pain in my stomach grows. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ afraid of how pathetic I¡¯ve become, Buttermilch. How afraid I¡¯ve become since then. I had a strong resolve ever since joining the military. I was just as naive as you were at some point. It¡¯s like¡­ since that day, the basis for my resolve, for making the world a better place, was extinguished overnight. We both burned with ideals, that we could do anything to change the world, just like our idols, and now¡­ ¡°We both faced our realities. We both discovered that making a difference is no easy task, that some things can¡¯t be done without paving blood, and that the powers that be function on a different level than we perceive. ¡°Why was I allowed to survive, Buttermilch?¡± I ask. Rubbing my eyes again. Moving my cramped legs a little, but still feeling slouchy. ¡°Is it to use my experience as a failure to teach and lead others, I wonder¡­? I wish you were still here, Buttermilch. I wish I had your wisdom in these foreboding times. I wish I had the foresight to know if I made the right choice or not. If my decision can lead to the survival of others¡ªthe minimal amount of carnage and deaths, I¡­ that¡¯s the only way I can make it up to you, I think. ¡°I suppose¡­ things can be a lot worse, Buttermilch,¡± I crack a weary smile. ¡°I can imagine you shaking your head and saying something like; ¡®The Yilan might¡¯ve been wiped out, and you¡¯d be no better than the lot of us right now. There wouldn¡¯t be a false Lucky Lady of Toscana or a Toscana Heroine, anyway.¡¯¡± I can¡¯t help but laugh at my bloody lame impersonation of my dead superior. And upon realizing the revelation, I laugh at my lameness, at my weakness, I can¡¯t help but laugh some more. The tears won¡¯t stop either way, and I wipe away fresh ones with a now soggy sleeve. ¡°I suppose¡­ I reached the point where I can ridicule myself over mistakes. In a way, I¡¯ll find new things to replace what I¡¯ve lost¡ªI can¡¯t just keep getting depressed over and over, right? ¡°I can only imagine you would lecture me on something like that¡­ to make new memories and do what I can to right what was wrong¡­ to learn from mistakes and apply them to new ones, basically¡­ right? Mac mentioned that to you at some point¡­ I wonder how much of it you took to heart, Buttermilch?¡± I can only wonder if she¡¯s there with you now¡­ ¡°I might not be able to fix my sorry blimey ass this minute¡­¡± I take a long breath, cradling the eyeglasses case in my hands, ¡°but I¡¯ll do it¡­ eventually, I¡¯ll live my life as best as I can. It might take a long time, but¡­ I have no idea what that may entail, but¡­ for now, I¡¯ll do my best.¡± I scan the room, the scars on my heartache as I address them all while getting to my feet. ¡°You¡¯re all the real heroes of Toscana, something the public may never know¡ªbut I will. I hope that one day, I can become like you all, like you, Buttermilch. I respect all of you. ¡°But even so¡­ what will happen in the upcoming campaign, I have no idea. It makes me sick to my stomach knowing I may be responsible for sending hundreds of thousands of soldiers to their deaths. All the while I¡¯ll be sitting back in the Yilan twiddling my thumbs¡­ it doesn¡¯t have to be this way.¡± I look down at Buttermilch, kneeling to rub the casket garment. ¡°I can¡¯t afford to be a spineless coward now of all times, can I?¡± I ask softly, gripping the sunglasses case tightly. ¡°If I have to live the rest of my life as pathetic as the Coward Heroine or Butcher Princess, I¡¯d rather just drop dead and die. Would it be better for me to at least participate in the battle and die where I stand than sit in the back where it¡¯s safe and sound?¡± It¡¯s a question that goes unanswered. And truthfully, I have no idea. No. I do have an idea of what must be done. There¡¯s no hesitation to be had about it. It¡¯s the least I can do Buttermilch¡­ the least I can do for our fallen comrades. I didn¡¯t survive when Buttermilch saved me. In a way, I died on that fateful day when I passed out from oxygen deprivation. After that surreal near-death experience, I¡¯ve been granted new life¡ªa life that I simply can¡¯t let rot and be miserable forever. I can¡¯t be purposeless forever¡ªhow horrible it would be to see the disappointment on Buttermilch and everyone else¡¯s faces when my time comes? A life full of regret? That¡¯s no way to live. Today, now, marks the end of regret. ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± I answer on behalf of the true heroes of Toscana. ¡°I¡¯ll use this second life you¡¯ve granted me to be a better person¡­ to live a life that you won¡¯t be ashamed of so that your worries can be calmed and you all could rest in peace. If I die, it won¡¯t be a squandered, pitiful one. I¡¯ll see to it that my actions of Lucky Alphonse won¡¯t be repeated. That people won¡¯t die in vain.¡± A cold touch on my shoulder. Instinctively I rest my hand there, but glancing back there¡¯s nothing but the overhead cold mist. Just my imagination, perhaps, or maybe a certain Commander letting his presence known. Whatever the case, I get up, dusting myself and slipping the case back into my breast pocket. ¡°I have no idea what the future entails, Buttermilch,¡± I say wryly ¡°but I¡¯ll charge head-first into it. So long, commander.¡± With a final salute, I about-face and head off through the misty chamber of heroes. Chapter 101: Embers of Ishtar | Her Decision The way upward on the lift grip feels like an eternity, but soon enough I reach the end of my rather mundane trip. To my surprise, I find myself with company, other than my wandering thoughts, of course. ¡°Old man?¡± I mutter, ¡°You¡¯re still here?¡± Lucas doesn¡¯t even so much as spare me a witting glance. He leans against a metallic table, shifting through something or another. Right about now, he would have groaned and complained about how the schools back on Terra lack the conscience to teach us manners, but there¡¯s not so much as a scoff. This feels like a lame reunion. I hop off the lift grip and pass by without a word to Lucas. Before I can leave, Lucas speaks up, ¡°Back already? I was beginning to worry you got lost.¡± I answer back, a swift about-face knowing he¡¯d finally open up to me a little. ¡°In a way, you¡¯re right, love, I was lost in a way.¡± I make my way to the railing, peering down into the dim shaft. Paying no heed to the icy metal. Orange supply crates zip by on Lift grips. ¡°Maybe I¡¯m still lost?¡± I ask. A deep breath. Gripping the metal railing with one hand and tapping with the other. ¡°Tell me, love, is it possible to ever truly find yourself?¡± There¡¯s the hook-line-and-sinker scoff. Of course, normally, this would be a mischievous affair were it any other occasion. But this isn¡¯t one of those cases. An absentminded answer from Lucas. ¡°Lost? Well¡­¡± the old man sets aside whatever he was busying himself with before to humor me for a bit. ¡°You happen to know a thing or two about being lost, old man?¡± I ask, suppressing a smirk. Were this Kiki, I¡¯d expect immediate retaliation, but this old dog doesn¡¯t strike me as someone who¡¯d want to dare lay a finger on a superior officer. But after all that, I need a little cheer me up, even if it¡¯s with someone who¡¯s a stranger to me. I can¡¯t help but cut loose a sigh, just low enough that Lucas couldn¡¯t pick up on it. How sad is it that I¡¯m already more or less a second lieutenant¡ªme, hardly on the eve of being eighteen because of some miraculous luck? Or I guess in my case¡ªa curse. Yet, even a quick examination of seaman Lucas could fool no one that he¡¯s young in any regard. He¡¯s more of an old fart than my old man, and he¡¯s well in his fifties¡­ early sixties now. Lucas here is probably old enough to be his pops¡ªold enough and diligent enough for prime minister, even. Lucas appears well-versed beyond his years¡­ an admiral hiding in a private¡¯s uniform. It¡¯s an odd thought that consumes me with concern over the morality of this twisted dilemma. Our eyes meet, and the old sailor¡¯s answer to all of this is a simple, well-crafted smile. ¡°You could say something like that, lass. But what about you? Word gets around pretty quickly that you left with the CO for the flagship .¡± I lean in, lost in those insightful yet curious glimmers of his. ¡°I¡¯ve gone and made a big fool out of myself, yet again, old man.¡± The man pays no attention to the continuing abuse of authority and lack of etiquette. Maybe I¡¯ve warmed up to him. Maybe it¡¯s a sign of respect. A respect for what? ¡°I went in hoping to make a difference, hoping to make a difference this time. A desire so overwhelming, that it burns within my chest. I wanted to right what was wrong. And I went in and did a whole theatrics out of whopping nothing. I wanted to avoid pointless bloodshed¡ªI wanted to avoid drawing something of a prolonged fight with our manpower and resources stretched out¡­ I wanted the navy to avoid a quagmire like Toscana happening again.¡± The old timer remains silent. A gesture for me to continue, perhaps. And so I do without hesitation. ¡°I punched the staff officer responsible for that debacle,¡± I say, pausing to regain myself. A chance to refrain from living that episode again, as much as I would desire. Just reflecting on it now makes me feel rejuvenated¡ªa shock of adrenaline letting it out. ¡°I punched that sonuvabitch so he knows full well how the Yilan feels about the whole whopping mess. I hope he remembers the pain until the day he dies. ¡°Was it the right thing to do, Lucas?¡± I demand. I grit my teeth. Slamming on the cold metal. ¡°Was any of what I did the right thing to do? What if it was Buttermilch¡ª¡° ¡°Easy, kid,¡± the man says with reconciliation. ¡°Would Buttermilch have done the same as me?¡± I ask, surprising even myself with the tone of my voice. I relax myself, slumping and clinging onto the metal railing. ¡°You understand my anger, right?¡± Not giving him the chance to interject I find myself rambling on ¡°The only thing is¡­ and you didn¡¯t hear it from me or anything, considering how word spreads fast and all¡ªthere¡¯s going to be¡ª¡° I bite my lip. An abrupt desire overwhelms me: silence. I shouldn¡¯t go around spreading rumors so carelessly. I wouldn¡¯t be able to weasel my way out of trouble revealing top-secret plans so easily. ¡°A military operation soon,¡± I say slowly, calculating how to keep it vague at most. We exchange glances. Lucas folds his arms, an indication I feel is an invitation to continue. ¡°A plan so brazenly familiar that will feel so brazen to us at Toscana. Originally, they wished to split the fleet.¡± ¡°To split the fleet?¡± Lucas muses, ¡°But¡­¡± his eyebrows twitch, the cogs turning. ¡°The Admiral and his fleet being here, I merely took it as an indication that this fun little vacation was over.¡± Not waiting for him to ponder any further, I continue. ¡°I openly objected¡­¡± leaning on the railing, opening and closing bruised hands. ¡°I suggested we aim to keep our forces cohesive.¡± I peer into the piqued seaman¡¯s eyes¡¯, finding answers in these two little ponds that I know would simply be in vain. ¡°Is it an enemy fleet? Some¡­ rogue pirate haven we overlooked?¡± Lucas whispers, and I say nothing. Letting the brief gust flirt with my hair as more cargo containers zip by. There¡¯s the odd officer and sometimes personnel riding by on lift grips, waving us good ones with smiles. How I envy them for enjoying a good mood. Any moment now, really, Mazzareli will announce the upcoming plans for Entebbe. I peer down into the endless shaft before turning to Lucas. ¡°They really don¡¯t tell us a damn thing, do they, love?¡± Lucas looks at me with complexity, he leans onto the railing, intent on curiosity. ¡°The League Militaire¡­ have you heard of them, Lucas?¡± For a second there, Lucas looks troubled. He caresses his temple before straightening himself up. ¡°The 18/19th Legionnaires¡­ I should¡¯ve known it was going to be like this from the beginning.¡± I¡¯m taken aback by his cool response. The sailor forces a smirk. Well¡­ he is old. But I have no idea who the man is or what he did for a living before the Yilan. ¡°A bit of a side track, old man,¡± I say. Lucas scratches his sandy cheeks. ¡°Well¡­ I suppose you already know where this is going¡ªhow long have you been with the military?¡± He begins to answer, but I lean into him with a raised brow, ¡°How are you even a seaman still? Don¡¯t take this as flattery, love, but you look old enough to be my gramps.¡± ¡°Yeah, well,¡± a sigh from the old sailor, ¡°I¡¯ve been serving with the Federation since the days your father was still nothing more than just¡ª¡° ¡°Alright, spare me the rest,¡± I say with a kind gesture. I try to relax by resting my back against the cold barrier. ¡°Simply put, you don¡¯t appear like a conscript to me.¡± Lucas sighs, a puff of his chest. ¡°Years ago, I was. I hope they had the decency of teaching you about NOSP in school?¡± The mention of NOSP comes off as a surprise, but I give a nod they did. ¡°The Near Orbital Space Police? Of course¡­ wow, and you never once advanced through the ranks?¡± The question, without even realizing it, has kept me frozen dead in my tracks. An indecent thing to ask. The blood in my body freezes still. ¡°Some men are better suited for the job,¡± Lucas says. ¡°When you¡¯re young, you¡¯re adventurous. When you¡¯re old, you¡¯re content and cautious. The politics of echelons from the pits of the rank and file to the middle of chain command was not a path for me in life,¡± Lucas remarks. ¡°More responsibilities, the lives of your former comrades right there cuddled in your hands. If something went wrong¡ªyou are the immediate reason why. You are the last resort if and when something goes wrong.¡± On the heels of my curiosity, I lean in. ¡°When NOSP was disbanded, where did you go? How did that affect you?¡± Lucas strokes his chin. His silver bushy eyebrows peer ahead into the vacuum shaft. ¡°Life was hard for a no-good slum sailor like me. Another time, I feel, I¡¯d be more happy to tell you what our¡­ contemporary history books won¡¯t. ¡°But¡­ a short amount of years after NOSP, I enlisted in the Federation Navy.¡± ¡°And that brought you to the Yilan?¡± I ask. Lucas nods. My nails dig into the railing. My heels firmly dug into the concrete flooring. ¡°You must¡¯ve known MacKenzie, right?¡± Lucas straightens up¡ªbut it¡¯s only for a second. ¡°Who was she, Lucas?¡± ¡°MacKenzie was a bitch,¡± Lucas says absentmindedly. The answer catches me off guard, but I resolve not to giggle. ¡°She was an actual witch,¡± the old sailor turns to face me. ¡°I was acquainted with her in the NOSP days. No matter the task, she would do it. In the dirty line of NOSP, that was not an easy thing to do.¡± Lucas presses his thumbs together on his forehead, taking a moment to bask in the memories. ¡°Mac¡­¡± Lucas muses. ¡°What happened to her, Lucas?¡± I ask. There are so many things I want to know about MacKenzie, Lucas, and NOSP. But it feels like time is fleeting¡­ there wouldn¡¯t be enough time for it now. Not with the League Militaire. ¡°Were you there?¡± I ask. At first, Lucas doesn¡¯t say anything. The old sailor squints, then lifts his head and turns to me slowly. There. ¡°Al-¡­Bawa¡­Qu?¡± Lucas takes one good glance at the work he was preoccupied with until a few moments ago. ¡°You should forget about that¡­ tomfoolery. Nothing good will ever come out of chasing dead ends.¡± ¡°What happened after Mac¡¯s last mission, Lucas?¡± The old sailor becomes increasingly resilient to the questions. Lucas turns his back to me, getting back into the rhythm of his busy work. Facing immediate defeat, I shrug my shoulders and head off. But Lucas stops me. Setting down one of the bulky cartridges, Lucas clears his throat. ¡°This mission you spoke of¡­ I understand because of authorizations and such forth¡­ but¡­ the League Militaire?¡± ¡°Yes? What about them?¡± Cool air and goosebumps are propping up before I know it. I resist the urge to shiver in front of Lucas. ¡°Have you ever met with a French Legionnaire, lass?¡± Lucas takes one step towards me. The nervous evolves rapidly into a stranglehold. My chest gets tighter as Lucas approaches. ¡°Do you know what they¡¯re capable of?¡± ¡°From what I know,¡± I gasp. ¡°They were the Federation¡¯s premiere light troop that specialized in¡ª¡° ¡°No!¡± Lucas says to my bewilderment. ¡°That¡¯s what they teach you. That¡¯s what they want to instill in you. They are monsters. They are bastards. They are filled with the worst of villainy the galaxy will ever know.¡± I remember the shy petite Bernie back on the Trinidad. I shake my head, resisting Luca¡¯s warnings. ¡°Not all of them. I¡¯ve met one. They were nothing of the sort.¡± ¡°My dear, that¡¯s just one. Most of them are. A lot of them are not so gentle. The Legionnaires are a monolith of iron will and frozen blood. In some ways, they were the paramilitary arm of the NOSP¡ª¡° ¡°Do you believe that?¡± I ask. Lucas says nothing. ¡°Why are you bringing this up now darling? What¡¯s the hangup over the Legionnaires?¡± ¡°You don¡¯t understand the gravity of this situation!¡± Lucas¡¯s tone nearly startles me. ¡°See! You quake in your boots.¡± ¡°Where is this coming from, love?¡± I ask, more demandingly this time. I glance around hoping this abrupt commotion doesn¡¯t draw any unwanted attention. ¡°The League Militaire was composed of some of the most well-respected, well-decorated legions the Federation had at its disposal,¡± Lucas says, ¡°and we were so blinded as to where they were¡­ what they were capable of. The media used to make such a mean scare out of it back in the day. if what I¡¯ve heard so far is true that we discovered the whereabouts of the League Militaire.¡± After I confirm that is the case, Lucas is silent for a long time. I break the silence, ¡°We were deceived, weren¡¯t we?¡± After a few moments of rubbing his forehead, Lucas sighs heavily and answers. ¡°Wise men years ago echoed this: don¡¯t trust leaders to always be right. Sometimes, they make wrong choices, and millions may perish.¡± I lean over the railing, peering into the manifestations of my thoughts¡ªof this lunacy depiction of the chaos we live in. Revolts in Ruthenia. Uncertainty back home. A resurgent foe in our backyard. Aromas of dissent in the Frankish capital. Just next door, a slumbering pirate haven, and its pirate lords sink into hibernation. ¡°This isn¡¯t going to be anything like Toscana, isn¡¯t it?¡± I ask. ¡°There¡¯s going to be no grand space battle or anything of the sort.¡± A scoff. Two scoffs. ¡°If we¡¯re facing the best we¡¯ve ever produced and trained, this isn¡¯t going to be so easy as simply starving out into submission¡­ ¡°They want to¡ªthey have to go in there and fight a good old fight, love. I suggested diverting our manpower to fight what I perceived was their headquarters¡­ Ishtar Terra.¡± ¡°Ishtar Terra¡­¡± the musings of an old sailor. ¡°A mystical deity, a relic from the Old World¡­ of love, war, and fertility. A symbolic choice for a final show-down, don¡¯t you agree?¡± ¡°That wasn¡¯t my intention, Lucas,¡± I say bitterly. ¡°Then what was your intention?¡± Lucas asks. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing occurs. I tap my shoulders. My intention, huh¡­? ¡°At the time, I simply wanted to avoid spreading out forces and draining reserves all over the Lagrange points. I figured¡­ if we focused our ground invasion on their main base of operations, the other holdouts would eventually kneel¡­ if we forced the leaders into submission.¡± ¡°Taking advantage of the prideful nature of the Frankish Legionnaires?¡± Luca asks. I can¡¯t help but crack a smile. ¡°It¡¯s just a simple strategy. Decapitate the leadership, and leave the rest as rabble.¡± Lucas offers no insight, but merely scoffs and heads back to his work cart. If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. ¡°Then what¡¯s the worry?¡± Lucas asks. ¡°Worry?¡± I muse. ¡°Well¡­ suppose, love, the whole venture turns into a whopping ass¡­ what if my desire to avoid pointless bloodshed only generates more bloodshed with such a focused concentration of manpower all conveniently in one place?¡± I stomp the ground. ¡°What if the League Militaire has little regard for the colony and¡­ and they¡­ perhaps, they trap and rig it to explode, or some such?¡± ¡°Your imagination is impressive,¡± Lucas answers, turning to lean on his bench. ¡°Were these mere rabble, or pirates¡­ they wouldn¡¯t hesitate. The Legionnaires are the medieval knights of yesterday. They wouldn¡¯t dare resort to such unruly methods.¡± Unruly methods¡­ ¡°Not unlike the Federation¡­¡± Lucas murmurs. ¡°Lucas, love,¡± I begin. Lucas is slightly fazed by me calling out to him, perhaps I broke his concentration on his mumbling matter. ¡°If you were given the option to do so, but you don¡¯t participate in the operation itself¡­ would you still do it? Knowing that you get to sit back and relax while hundreds of thousands of your fellow servicemen are fighting for their survival day and night?¡± It¡¯s a long-winded question, and Lucas ponders it all the same. ¡°You¡¯re shrouded in guilt,¡± Lucas answers. ¡°You can¡¯t let it get the best of you. You cannot let it consume you and have it cloud your judgment. A cautious commander is a good one, but too cautious and you jeopardize others with your mental block. You¡¯d be unfit for command, miss Victoria. You have a Victorian¡¯s Cross lined up, don¡¯t you?¡± Lucas turns around briefly to set down one of his electronic devices and picks up another. ¡°This isn¡¯t something a seaman should say to a superior officer¡ªbut get your act together. If I went into Ishtar Terra knowing you made such adjustments to a carefully planned military operation while you¡¯re safe and sound in orbit¡­ never to know what it¡¯s like to be in the mud. I have no idea how I¡¯d feel. ¡°Have you ever been in the field, little lady? Have you ever fought in a battle before?¡± Lucas continues, ¡°Do they even train you for that anymore?¡± ¡°Officer cadets train at side Lepanto,¡± I answer, ¡°I trained there in 217 for a bit. Survival gear, small arms, armored and halberd training¡­¡± ¡°Trained at such a young age and yet no exposure to the horrors of war. Well, not that I¡¯m not to talk either. When I was a little dunce, I did the same thing. Except it was NOSP academies. Similar education regime, however. ¡°But they train you against rabble. Against pirates, and hooligans. Never against an organized foe. The worst our military ever had to fight were¡­ those dispersed Perdenes farmers.¡± ¡°That we lost against,¡± I answer. Truthfully, our only real enemies(in the scope of the Federation Navy) are space pirates¡­ I still remember a decade ago how the Senate balked at the idea of a formalized Federation naval force. It¡¯s not much of a difference compared to NOSP when you read into it, more or less an extension and broadened role as a military arm. But to what end, to quash a few pirates?¡­ Bloody Perdenes remains even now a somewhat complicated affair. It was a conflict stemming from distrust of the Federation government in Sydney. Then the Perdenians declared a jihad of independence¡­ and got crushed in massive bombing campaigns, only to endure a sluggish ground counter-insurgency occupation for more than nine years: the Frankish Legionnaires bore the brunt of the body count for the Federation. All that bloodshed contributed to the Toto Concord guaranteeing absolute autonomy for the Perdenes system and a demilitarization zone in space. No military vessels or military arms were prohibited in its spacial zones. But given that the Admiral¡¯s fleet crossed it in a rather timely matter¡­ there¡¯s no telling if Perdenes, too, is a powder keg for the Federation. ¡°But these French Legionnaires?¡± Lucas continues. ¡°They are near-machines. Human pit bulls are designed for one thing only: to shed blood.¡± Again the brief memory of Bernie flashes before me, and I can¡¯t help but grin. ¡°Surely, love, you are generalizing. They can¡¯t all be¡ª¡° ¡°I was there in Perdenes,¡± Lucas answers. A roundabout answer to my question from earlier regarding whether he was involved in Al-Bawa Qu or not. ¡°Maybe you¡¯ll be doing those men and women a favor, Victoria. Maybe you won¡¯t. You won¡¯t know until the time comes¡ªwhen the smoke clears and we make a headcount of the madness. ¡°But Victoria¡­ I just want you to know. Don¡¯t take any of what I said the wrong way¡­ I think MacKenzie would be proud¡ªand so would Buttermilch. Proud of what you¡¯ve done and what you will achieve. Hell,¡± he rests his arms on his sides, a slight grin. ¡°I¡¯d be lying if I said I wasn¡¯t proud of you. Considering the alternative is either all of us dead or waiting to be cremated. ¡°And Victoria¡­ I think what you¡¯ve done back there in Toscana¡­ ¡± ¡°T-Thank you, Lucas,¡± I say, cutting off Lucas from any further gratitude. With a quick salute, I about-face and head for the nearest lift grips. ¡°I think I made up my mind on something.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± It¡¯s the only thing I hear before the rumbling of machinery drowns him out. ¡°Victoria! It¡¯s been good talking to you! Never forget about the little guy! Talk to me every once in a while, will ya?!¡± Thanks, Lucas. It¡¯s been great talking to you too. But with what I want to do¡­ I have no idea if I can fulfill that request.
I rub the lenses of the sunglasses as the lift grip reaches the end. Glancing at the marker this is level D-Three. It¡¯s not the bridge, unfortunately, so I¡¯ll just have to make do with some exercise. There are two downsides to the lift grip: one, my stomach. Two, not being able to move around on one for an extended period sort of cramps your body. And since I¡¯m heading for the bridge, I imagine the elevator traffic will not be good¡­ especially now that Mazzareli is back and god forbid he stops away from managerial duties for one second. But now that I lost track of him, I have no idea where he could be now. He may not even be at the bridge, he could be back in his room. Where did he say he departed for again? I don¡¯t remember¡­ Taking the best chance I have, I reach out to a nearby officer. She turns a cold stare at me, biting down on her lip. Her nameplate? Oh, it¡¯s just who I don¡¯t need to see right now¡ª ¡°The hell do you want?¡± Poe Kippard sneers. The one Friederika told me to avoid any trouble with. Well¡­ I can¡¯t believe I¡¯m even considering this, but having a Friederika on hand right now would be¡­ handy. ¡°Sorry, love!¡± I back away, hands up. ¡°I was looking for the commanding offier¡­ do you know where Mazzareli might¡¯ve wandered off to?¡± She has such a transparent presence, I had no idea it was even her. It¡¯s hard to get any real read on her since she has such a stern poker face¡­ or a resting bitch face. Prince¡¯s adjutant rolls her eyes. She sighs¡ªand unexpectedly it compels me to do the same. I try to play it off by clearing my throat to avoid the awkwardness. ¡°He was on the way to the mess hall with lieutenant Prince,¡± Poe answers. Blowing strands of hair out of her eyes. ¡°The CO is planning on inspecting the workshops and a last-minute repair check on the Yilan¡¯s starboard grazing.¡± Oh. From the time the Yilan had a Mafia missile lodge its starboard. It¡¯s almost like an adventurous tale at this point. ¡°Are we done here?¡± she demands. ¡°I have to retrieve something for Prince from his office.¡± ¡°Of course you do, love,¡± I answer with a short jab at a salute. ¡°I¡¯ll be on my way¡ª¡° and before I get the chance to slide away, a rush of air as I¡¯m slammed, out of breath, against the wall. ¡°What in the¡ª¡° Poe holds me tightly by the collar, yanking me closer to me as she keeps me pinned by the side. ¡°I don¡¯t damn know where you got this idea of calling me love stems from, but we¡¯re not on good terms. I have even less idea of what went on that ship, but knock it off. Stay out of my way.¡± What the hell is her problem?! Poe shoves me aside and hops off into a jolt and disappears before I can get back up. Unfortunately, nobody seemed to be around, so I can¡¯t exactly hold her accountable¡­ unless I sought out surveillance footage I suppose. But that¡¯s not important right now. The mess hall she said? If I¡¯m lucky, petty officer Margot would¡¯ve given them a story or two to tell. I gamble on the elevator this time, destination C-Two. After a bit of a comfortable wait, I dart out into a hectic hallway. Strangely enough, contrary to what Prince said about the mess shell salutation, it¡¯s still rowdy. Some personnel have lost themselves in spirits and cheap liquor. Some groups of sailors sing their beloved Francien anthem. It¡¯s more akin to a late-night cyberpunk bar than it is to a professional army¡¯s mess hall. ¡°Victoria!¡± I hear a familiar voice shout through the madness. I turn to face an energetic Margot. Her hands are full of glasses and snacks. She sets them down forcibly and snarls me into a hug. ¡°Why have you been such a stranger lately?!¡± She beckons for me to sit. And with the illusion of free choice shattering, she shoves into my hands one of the fabled sushi kangaroo rolls Friederika was excited about. ¡°I always loved cooking for you love.¡± A firm grasp on my shoulder. ¡°I never got to serve you Buttermilch¡¯s Favorite meal, you know?¡± When a Yilan service member dies, it¡¯s an honored tradition to eat a meal based on their last favorite dish. Margot insists it¡¯s been something of a tradition with her family going back a millennia. I didn¡¯t participate in the Feast the rest of the Yilan conducted after we returned to the Frankish Domains region of Bordeaux. It didn¡¯t feel like the right thing to do. It would feel undeserving for me on a personal level. ¡°I¡¯m not ready to have it, just yet,¡± I answer. My stomach betrays me, but I suppress the grumbling so she will buy it. ¡°I¡¯ve done something that¡­ I want to do something that would upset a lot of you¡ªyou especially, Margot.¡± Margot, taken back, is confused by my intentions. I take a bite out of the meat roll and pass it to a drunkard dozing off. Margot looks a little defeated¡ªit¡¯s the stare that haunts me. It¡¯s nearly as cold as the bite I took. ¡°The next time I see you, I¡¯ll have his Meal, Margot, I promise you that.¡± I have no idea if I can keep the promise, but a promise is a resolute thing. Margot doesn¡¯t say a word. She smiles, patting me on the shoulder before returning to her other duties. Taking in the moment, I let out a sigh of relief watching these rowdy Frankmen bask in the celebration of their impending role as liberators¡­ there is so much I want to learn about these people and so little time I feel. On the overhead telly, an episode of that Perdenes war drama starts playing. It¡¯s the one Friederika and I watched once¡ªbefore the faithful jump to Toscana. Its tile-card: Dama. A soldier in archaic desert wear is half strewn into the golden sands that work painstakingly to give its victim final resting rites. The bar¡¯s fanaticism stops in its tracks, and the enigmatic drums and instruments of uncertainty swell the mess hall. Margot muses that this is not proper mess hall viewing, but several people shoo her away from turning it off. Dama pans out to a sea of comrades and adversaries alike strewing the earth. The audio remains muted except for the ominous, alien music. Several soldiers¡­ streams of soldiers charge past the camera, trampling the unfortunate victims below them. A different scene¡ªof exotic men in ponchos and turbans raining arrows and concentrated arquebus artillery on caravans, their knightly escorts executed by guerrilla saboteurs. ¡°This land is cold and unforgiving,¡± the voice-over of the protagonist(I think?), Lain¨¦. A camel carries an older Lain¨¦, and an entourage of fully armored knights follows suit. One baggage of inventory follows behind. Lain¨¦ turns to her nearest knight, as the synthetic music plays quietly behind every word. ¡°The subjugation of the people of the Land of Haieu Linh cannot come any sooner. The Imperial Decree demands it, and so I am fit to carry out the Will of the Emperor. ¡°And, yet, so¡­ ¡°Not since the days of Yoko Tori and Cao Yi has there been a more troublesome conflict in the harrowing days of this Empire,¡± Lain¨¦ remarks. She pauses, a moment to cough¡ªblood. She grips her wooly glove and thrusts her coat to avoid alerting the others. ¡°For Yoko, it was the liberation of the Land of Shia. For Cao, it was the unforgiving conquest of the Land of Chi Lay¡­¡± ¡°My lady,¡± one of the taller trots up from behind Lain¨¦. ¡°We must return to encampment,¡± he glances around¡ªat the cliffs above. At the ravine below. ¡°Those Hashshashin are no laughing matter¡ª¡° ¡°I send soldiers like you out to patrols all the time,¡± Lain¨¦ retorts. ¡°If a commander cannot dare to go through the same acts he demands of his troops, then it shows cowardice. I did not dedicate my life to this position to simply sit back and let the youngsters commit all the dying! Cowardice breeds rapidly in such vapid conditions.¡± The entourage turns back, leaving Lain¨¦ to admire the fascinating view of Haieu Linh¡¯s majestic works of handicraft mountains¡­ their rolling hills. It¡¯s all so fascinating. The camera pans out to black and returns to Lain¨¦ trotting through a busy encampment. ¡°The Senate will get its reward¡­ it will get Cao¡ª¡° Suddenly, a loud bang as several members duck down¡ªeveryone¡¯s too drawn by the telly. ¡°It¡¯s the episode! Relax!¡± someone shouts. The low, cool, hum of the Dama melody deafens out a rocky explosion¡ªthe dust clears as several people help up Lain¨¦. The camera slowly pans in on her as she slowly finds her footing. She glances up at the camera. ¡°No matter the cost¡­¡± Synthetic archaic music deafens the room as the scene changes to another assault against Cao¡¯s(presumably) walls. Man against man, steel clashing steel, shattering of blades amidst frenzies of mortal combat¡­ soldiers shanking troops with glaives and halberds¡­ ladders and showdowns on armored siege towers¡­ ¡°I cannot cross the Muong River without nothing to show for it. It can be only to return as victors¡­ or as betrayers to the Imperium. ¡°I will do whatever it takes.¡± At that moment, the telly changes channels, much to the mess hall¡¯s commotion. ¡°Go watch it in your rooms!¡± Margot retorts, slapping unfortunate bystanders in the wake of her wrath with rolled-up paper. ¡°This isn¡¯t a loitering area for you bums! Go! Get!¡± Seeing my chance to escape, I salute the culinary petty officer and dart into the overcrowded hallway. Workshop, workshop¡­ oh blimey, I don¡¯t recall if we ever got orientation for where the workshops were. Though¡­ just to be safe, I¡¯ll head to the docking station. He¡¯s likely going to inspect it first hand¡­ well¡­ taking a break to recollect my thoughts, it makes me wonder if the recent experience with the inexperienced pilot will put off wanting to head off into space so soon, especially after that. ¡°The Combat Informations Center, maybe?¡± I muse, twirling my hair. No one could blame Mazzareli if he simply wished to observe the starboard damage from a satellite projection. No signs of Friederika, either, now that I think about it. Is she in her room I wonder? I glance back for any sight of Margot, realizing I should¡¯ve asked her, but maybe it¡¯s not a good time for that, at least for now. Taking another roll of the dice, I head for the hangers. If he¡¯s at either, I can acquire if he¡¯s seen Friederika since she¡¯d need permission to go ashore for a bit, which I can follow suit with. Scouring through the first hanger, he¡¯s not present, but the second one wins the lottery with his presence. He must have overcome his fear of shuttles since he appears to be coming back, a rather haste effort to remove the space suits. ¡°Mazzareli, sir,¡± I say with a salute. Mazzareli is busy handing an adjutant the bulky helmet and unzipping the thick suit. ¡°Oh wonders, it¡¯s ensuring one problem is done and getting thrust with another,¡± Mazzareli remarks. Grinning as he snugly puts on his cap. ¡°I have a couple of questions for you, sir,¡± I say. Mazzareli gestures for me to walk with him. ¡°Oh, as I¡¯m sure your quench of knowledge desires,¡± Mazzareli says. ¡°Well, firstly love, I want to know if my girlfriend Friederika came by and if she went ashore¡ª¡° Mazzareli is quick to interject. We¡¯re almost out of the hangar¡ªsaluting lazy guards while we wait for the pressurization chamber to finish its mechanism cycle. ¡°To Terrassa? Yes, oh it seems whatever you did upset the poor girl. Are you quite positive it wasn¡¯t a breakup of sorts?¡± ¡°I never took you for humor,¡± I answer, forcing a grin. Mazzareli merely chuckles. ¡°Are you heading off into the CIC, Mazzy¡ªsir?¡± I ask as the doors open. The commanding officer is quick to realize I¡¯m likely not intending to leave the hanger¡ªthat this isn¡¯t just another walk-and-talk thing. Mazzareli thinks for a second. ¡°The bridge? Why yes, I am. I haven¡¯t been able to check the follow-up to the operation just yet¡­ need to assemble things and such for it. And you, Lieutenant¡­?¡± ¡°Well, to ask permission to go ashore¡­ enjoy what time I have before operation Entebbe begins.¡± Mazzareli flinches, setting into motion pondering what I mean. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I follow, Lieutenant, the Yilan isn¡¯t part of the operation, per¡­say.¡± His eyebrows raise as one wild thought rises after another. ¡°Mazzy¡ªsir, if I may have one last request before both of us depart¡­¡± ¡°Victoria,¡± Mazzareli sighs. He exchanges glances with the confused security. I take a deep breath. ¡°I wish to volunteer for Entebbe¡­¡± I take a step forward, swiping my hat and holding it tightly to my chest¡ªpressing tightly against the sunglasses. ¡°I want to be reassigned to the army¡ªmarine, legionnaire¡­ any combat force assigned to partake in Thunderbolt. ¡°More than anything¡ªin the first wave, if possible. I don¡¯t care if it¡¯s even an assignment with the eighteenth corps and brigadier Ishikawa. I should¡¯ve done it back there¡­ yeah, if that was the biggest mistake back there, Mazzareli, it¡¯s not volunteering for it then and there!¡± ¡°Victoria, you¡¯re being¡­¡± ¡°Unreasonable?¡± I retort. ¡°We¡¯re living in one, commander.¡± Mazzareli rubs his face and turns his back to me, sighing all the same. ¡°I¡¯m reasoned to believe you won¡¯t take no for an answer¡ª¡° ¡°Not even from you, love.¡± ¡°Just don¡¯t come to regret this¡­ don¡¯t make me regret this. and I think you¡¯re in luck because members of the eighteenth are down there on Terrassa¡ªand that could mean Ishikawa too. Leave an impression on her and maybe she¡¯ll approve of a reassignment.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll keep it in mind. Thank you, Mazzy. I take it I¡¯m also in good form with leaving for ashore?¡± ¡°Of course. Don¡¯t make that a habit either,¡± Mazzareli says. Taking advantage of the low gravity to skip down the hallway¡ªthe door seals shut behind him. Luck continues to be on my side: I approach the nearest ship that¡¯s leaving the refueling station and to my surprise come across Yuri Baikal. ¡°Lieutenant Baikal!¡± I shout, hoping to catch her attention. She turns around, confused at first but smiles. ¡°Back so soon?¡± Yuri asks. ¡°Sorry I ditched you at the Trinidad. Some other gig needed to be hauled. You going ashore I reckon?¡± Yuri turns to face the shielded bay entrance. ¡°So much more movement all of a sudden¡­ they¡¯re unloading more of those troop transports. There¡¯s so many!¡± ¡°It¡¯s still a battlefield out there as always, huh?¡± I muse, leaning on the recently cooled ship paneling. I¡¯m going to Terrassa¡ªthink you could lend me a ride there? I¡¯ll probably be there for a day or two¡­¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Yuri answers happily. It¡¯s a relief to come back to her in good spirits at least. ¡°I can get you there in, oh¡­ maybe thirty minutes. An hour at worst¡ªbut definitively the next half hour.¡± With Yuri¡¯s permission, I head inside the shuttle and strap myself in. Terrassa¡­ a reunion with Alexandra and an encounter with Ishikawa, huh? I¡¯m looking forward to this little calm before the storm. Chapter 102: Embers of Ishtar | The Sprout of Life Yet Still Withers, Part 1 Yuri masterfully navigates the shuttle through traffic. A feat, might I add which is no easy accomplishment. I¡¯ve played my fair share of the latest hits of space simulators in arcades back home before I joined Canberra Academy, but I was, and probably still am, a lousy pilot. Mustering my energy to remain calm¡ªrefraining from dwelling into panic and grasping at an absent SPEIBSACKERL. This is an endurance test of its own. Our destination is a distant white blimp swarmed by hundreds of fast-orbiting dots. We cruise through seemingly endless destroyer screens, some tethered to temporary mining deposit asteroid stations which I surmise are commandeered for servicing purposes. Every so often, we are hailed by utility vessels who form makeshift parameters of sorts. These shuttles have cosmonaut marines who either operate freely with jet packs or are constrained by safety cables to their mothership. In any case, they¡¯re armed with halberds, recoilless rifles, and grapple guns. But why? For what purpose? I ponder the thoughts as Yuri deals with the minor inconvenience. What¡¯s your destination? Which mother ship do you originate from? Who are your passengers? What are you carrying? The Admiral mentioned that construction strikes are ongoing in nearby systems. And then there is the concerning report about the surgical strike at Brenaco. Is this a cautionary measurement taken by the Admiral? If that were the case¡ª- Yuri sighs. She reaches overhead for a lever and pulls down. She clears the silence, saying presently, ¡°Hold on.¡± ¡°Eh?¡± I mutter. The next thing I know, my pilot pulls down the joystick. The abrupt shift in force is more than enough to slam me onto the roof of the cockpit, but the tight seatbelt keeps me firmly in place(as it digs into cloth and skin). For a few precarious moments, we find ourselves cloaked in utter darkness interrupted by peeks of deep shade yellow. It occurs to me just now we nearly slammed straight into a titanic white vessel. Now, our shuttle races the belly of the titanic white vessel which moments ago we could¡¯ve been adjoined within a lovely spectacle of space debris and mush. It¡¯s a hard thought to swallow knowing I could¡¯ve died without even realizing what could¡¯ve happened. I dig my fingers into the chair¡¯s armrests. It¡¯s simply one shock after another, and for this beautiful long lass, dying in this matter would have been pitiable. My heartbeat returns to normal after we escape the vessel¡¯s shade and return to relative safety. Yuri can¡¯t help but chuckle at my expense. ¡°Sorry for the scare,¡± she says. ¡°Those merchants are oblivious to their surroundings.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t recognize the ship,¡± I answer, glancing back at the great white whale. Moments ago, the starboard of this great vessel would¡¯ve been scorched black. ¡°Federation supply ships are piss-colored.¡± Squinting, I add, ¡°and larger¡ªless slim. Essentially they¡¯re like flying warehouses. But what¡¯s it doing all the way out here amongst the military?¡± Yuri doesn¡¯t answer. Or maybe she doesn¡¯t want to think about it. To be fair, she is unaware of the upcoming operation. I do not bother bringing it up again. I know the answer to it myself: Admiral DeRyck lost a number of his supply ships along the Merican-Toscana corridor. And because of that ill-fated incursion, the Admiral is forced to borrow from the natives in Ruthenia despite the political unrest unfolding there as we speak. A modest amount in the words of the Admiral: modest by what measurement?! But it¡¯s been nearly two months since DeRyck and the main fleet departed from their journey in the Merica star zone. Who knows how destabilized Ruthenia is¡ªand by extension the artery of the Federation¡ªis at the moment. And that¡¯s the unnerving thing¡ªthe detail that escapes my mind so thoroughly. I can only wonder what Alexa¡¯s opinion on all of this is¡­ Truth be told, just thinking about our reunion gives me goosebumps. I stroke my shoulders, kicking my feet up on the dashboard. One thing simply leads to the next. And now we¡¯re being forced to feed and supply less than a quarter of a million servicemen at the expense of yet another group of locals: the Franks. I wonder if the colonists here are as raffled as their elected leaders in the Francien capital of Lusatia. A deep sigh, brushing locks of golden hair. The familiar shape of a Side colony is more evident the closer we get. At present, the traffic is heavier than earlier. far more makeshift parameters and squads of MP roaming about ready to ruin some poor sap¡¯s day. While police shuttles and their tethered military troop keep tight choke points around Terrassa¡¯s exterior defense systems: massive, pitch-black square installations with vertical pods dominating the outer cone. As embarrassing as it is to admit, even with a trained eye such as mine they¡¯re an oversight. This fact alone alarms me: I¡¯ve heard of something among the likes of active camouflage¡ªof course, anyone has in pulpy novels and cheesy, overly-bombastic visual movies. I press against the cockpit side window, squinting. But here they are. There are two¡­ five¡­ maybe seven in a broad circular fashion. All of them here, at Terrassa alone¡ªno! Maybe the rim is larger than I originally estimated. It could be that it shares a chain with the rest of the Cluster. They blend in well with the cloaking but the technology is not perfect by any means. These machines¡­ racking my brain for what the bloody things were called: mangonel smart launch systems. Because of the light reflecting off the tangly-orange planet of Gasson and the silver sheet of Terrassa, the mangonel has a visible rim glistening and amplifying the structure¡¯s shimmering outlines, specifically the side facing Gasson. It¡¯s because of my impression of the mangonel¡¯s surface being pitch-black that I realize it¡¯s merely, partially, blending into its masking environment. Just how many missile platforms are there, just here, in Francia? I wonder if there will become a day¡ªmaybe in my lifetime, that naval warfare will be lethal blind knife fights. Were this ship part of a raiding party from Ruthenia, or the Mafia, or even if the Franks suddenly perceived the Federation fleet as a threat, these first couple minutes of unassuming would cost us our lives. There will come a day when technology like optic camouflage will become commonplace in spacial navies, and the ghostly wind of that death-like sequence tickles the back of my neck. Every era of warfare has ways of shaking up the status quo in unmistakable ways. Every generation of young men and women will pay the price for such advancements in technology: a wicked science to end the life of another. Yet, since the aftermath of Terra¡¯s horrible and bitter Great Resource Wars, we have entered the longest, uninterrupted scope of general peace in human civilization. For almost three hundred years we have lived this way, something not seen since the end of the twenty-second century A.D.. Now the third millennium has ended, and still, humanity marches through a well-beaten path of war and terror. How many millenniums must humanity endure before peace is achieved forever? I shake off the foreboding thoughts. Mangonel defenses still need to be manually reloaded, and that means securing its space zone. Depending on how far of a distance and the determination of the pilot and reloading crew, it¡¯s feasible if only to deter a bunch of pirates. But against an entire space fleet? The mangonel right now is a first-strike installation. The moment even a naked lock-on occurs by a raiding party, it would be over. I¡¯ve read from second-hand accounts that the Franks were the only colonies capable of producing anti-ship defense systems like the mangonel, let alone its optical camouflage. I read reports and news here and there about mangonel developments but to see these installations first-hand leaves me only supplied with a mixture of intriguing horror. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. It leaves me to wonder still¡­ would the League Militaire have the same type of defenses? It¡¯s the unpredictable nature of the situation that leaves me feeling lost. I wonder if the Admiral and his staff take into consideration the same? If most Frankish Clusters have the same set of hardware as here, how could the League Militaire have struck one and gotten away so easily? I caress my temple: there are so many things I do not know! My train of thought is interrupted only by the looming cloak of Terrassa¡¯s dominating presence. I sink into my chair, breathless as the titan colony is only more and more imposing. When you compare even the biggest battleships we have and even Federation supply ships, they are mere pebbles compared to O¡¯Vertame Cylinders. I¡¯ve seen holographic filmbook depictions of a Side scaled next to a planet like Terra. It would be an understatement to say Sides are small. In any case, the chaos washes away as we approach and align ourselves with runaway blinking lights. To be more specific, we head into the top vertical silo leading into the Terrassa¡¯s interior of corridors. Traffic slows down, and Yuri turns her attention to communicating with Terrassa¡¯s mission control. I pay no attention to the conversation, but Yuri¡¯s sigh of relief is all I need to know permission is granted without a hitch. Yuri slows the shuttle to something just shy of cruise control, gracefully gliding the craft through the upper tunnel. Once inside, it¡¯s smooth sailing. Presently there are maybe three ships ahead of us. A good indication that we won¡¯t die in a horrible disaster¡ªit¡¯s my turn to cut a concealed sigh loose. I sink into my chair, unbuckling as I do so, a much-deserved stretch. Of course, any moment now such imagination could become reality. I peek over the side cockpit window for a better survey of the port. From a glimpse, the atmosphere down there is in better contrast than the business outside. Civilians and workers alike go about their days, most likely living in beautiful bliss not knowing of the military buildup unfolding outside. But then again, if I were a local here and saw the entire Federation armada in my front yard, with troopers posted about, interrogating anyone that comes in and out¡­ it could, by all means, be the contrary. Regardless of their attitude towards us here, the local government in Lusatia has every right to be angry on their behalf. That is their purpose, after all, to hear the cries of the people and champion their complaints to the powers that be. After all, it would be wise not to prod people with guns, lest they start pointing them at you. I do not think it could ever come to that. Sitting back in the chair. I still remember the events on the telly several years ago. When those politicians on Capitol Hill argued that the Franks, although seemingly docile and content enough to pay their taxes, would unmistakably rise in rebellion one day, arm-in-arm with their Ruthenian cousins, and overthrow the seat of power in Terra. Even though¡ªwell, I have yet to see this alien culture for myself anyway¡ªwhat the anchors on the telly and virtual radios would say points that the Frankish Domains are incapable of such a thing. I think it can simply be chalked up to the fact that the Francien economy is too intertwined with Metropolitan Sol¡¯s, even far greater than the Ruthenia colonies. This is one of the points presented to us in primary school, at Canberra Academy, and beaten into us when we had accelerated training in the year while posted at the Yilan¡ªbefore the events of Lucky Alphonse, anyway. The Franks serve the Federation well. By reasonable colonial standards, the Frankish Domain is one of the few regions spared from the worst of piracy activity, owing in part to their higher-than-usual level of security than anywhere in the galaxy, other than Metropolitan Sol of course. One glance at those enormous military hardware installations would be more than enough to deter even the most determined of foes. This fact lets them have far greater resource allocation for fleet construction and serves as the Federation¡¯s major food basket. Maybe arguing is the wrong expression to use. Hysteria and paranoia might describe it better. At least it¡¯s what I could decipher back then. Whatever way you may see it, politicians at home are ever fearful the Franks are plotting in secrecy their freedom. That is what we were shipped off here for and remembering what DeRyck mentioned about gag orders¡­ of course, our true purpose¡ªcommodore Chal¡¯s purpose¡ªwas the subjugation of the rogue Legionnaires at Ishtar-Terra. Rubbing my chin. Yuri decelerates further as she speaks into the radio comm with the harbor control tower. Is it because the Franks are allowed such free reign over ship development that it is fearful they will strike us when we least expect it? They control the thing, they have the power to destroy thing. So many questions, but never enough answers. It¡¯s hard to find the truth when the previous fact given to us was but a lie. Why¡­. Why would the Admiral lie to us? Why the need for frightening security? A fear of Ishtar-Terra agents among us? ¡°Oh, before I forget,¡± Yuri breaks both the silence and my concentration, ¡°were you able to give that sonuvabitch a piece of our minds?¡± That Chal bastard¡ª¡° ¡°No,¡± I answer dejectedly, surprising even myself with the tone, ¡°but I did get his aide¡ªhis right-hand lad who approved of the whole debacle. He was a sickly fellow.¡± Hoffman. I subtly grit my teeth just remembering the name. I relax my fists, the bruising still evident. ¡°I only gave him one¡ª¡° ¡°Oh-h, how I wish I was there!¡± Yuri says, suppressing her excitement to perfect the landing. All things considered, I¡¯m rather proud I have enough endurance to refrain from scrambling for the SPEIBSACKERL. ¡°Sorry love, continue?¡± I declare with a triumphant pump of my chest ¡°One good punch,¡± I clench my left fist, leaning over the co-pilot seat to the bemused Yuri. ¡°The Victorian Special.¡± The old gal chuckles, she says. ¡°You think he¡ªboth him and Chal got the message?¡± She eyes the cockpit. There¡¯s the abrupt landing bump. ¡°They¡¯d bloody well hope so,¡± I declare. Clicking off the bulky seat belts and getting up for a second stretch. ¡°And in front of the Admiral and all the staff officers of all things¡­!¡± Yuri leans back in her chair. She flips a switch to her left, and I wait for the shuttle¡¯s cabin doors to do its depressurization business. Oh how long these bloody things take! ¡°You have some balls, lass. You¡¯re not worried in the slightest?¡± Running a hand through familiar locks of hair. Worry¡­ heh¡ªthat¡¯s not even half of it, love. ¡°The Commodore is at fault for a lot of things: the failure to understand his junior ranks as loud and clear¡­¡± I spin to face the pilot abruptly. ¡°I suppose you didn¡¯t hear either¡ªmaybe the rumor will do some damage too and it will poison his reputation. Chal didn¡¯t come because of a little stomach pain, can you believe that?¡± The answer is an expected scoff. ¡°You¡¯re not joining me, love?¡± Making note of the fact she¡¯s still comfortably on the reclining chair. Yuri answers. ¡°I¡¯ll stay here for a bit¡ªdon¡¯t worry it¡¯s not like last time¡­ just want to stare at something other than the internals of a spaceship for once,¡± I glance at the cockpit¡ªit¡¯s not like the inside of an even bigger ship is any different! ¡°first time on Terrassa?¡± Huh? Oh! ¡°First time for sure,¡± I answer, leaning on the door frame. ¡°How about you?¡± There¡¯s a bit of a pause as Yuri gently rocks in the robust gray chair. She answers. ¡°A few times¡ªonce before the jump¡ªonce after the jump, before this trip I mean¡± I wince. A sudden urge to spin the mood around. ¡°It¡¯s a beautiful view,¡± Yuri continues. ¡°You¡¯ll love it for sure.¡± Yuri props her chin up with her left hand, staring out the cockpit side window. ¡°I. . . Can only wish I can bring myself to see it a third time¡ªat least with Jamie.¡± Yuri reaches for a lever and shifts it down¡ªopening the cabin doors. ¡°Happ¡­ Victoria, take care, okay? I¡¯ll be here for a while. Then I¡¯m leaving, so you¡¯re on your own hailing a taxi back to the Yilan, or what have you. When can I expect you to come back?¡± A moment to think, tapping my forearms. ¡°Ah-h, I¡¯ll be here for a hot minute, darling. Suppose the rest of the Standard day.¡± I glance at my father¡¯s wristwatch. It¡¯s twelve hundred hours. ¡°If I¡¯m lucky I won¡¯t crash at a hotel somewhere and suppose I¡¯ll make the most of the day¡ªso I¡¯ll aim for a little after seventeen hundred hours?¡± Yuri ponders the suggestion. ¡°Well¡­ if I have nothing else to haul¡ªdon¡¯t depend on it. Things may change. At the end of the day, I¡¯m just a courier dog, all things said and done.¡± ¡°Well darling, if I don¡¯t see you¡ªI hope you take care too.¡± With one final salute, I hop off the steps of the shuttle as the doors close shut behind me. A fleeting thought sweeps over me as I trace my gaze from the shuttle¡¯s starboard to the cockpit. With Entebbe and Thunderbolt merely a few days away¡­ will Yuri be safe? Would she be assigned as a troop carrier pilot? Would she volunteer for one¡ªwould she do it for Jamie? We, as the living, think we know what¡¯s best for those left after our loved ones depart. Life would be easier, I tug on my cap, sighing. If we could communicate with the dead¡ªseek their wisdom. I glance back one last time. A heavy feeling throbbing in my chest. It feels odd, leaving her like this. We act so casually, and yet she has no idea I may be the one responsible for sending her to die. Would she do it all over again¡­ in the corridors of Ishtar-Terra the Beast? Chapter 103 Embers of Ishtar | The Sprout of Life Yet Still Withers, Part 2 I make my way to the platform¡¯s railing. Leaning on it and observing as an alien the people of Terrassa go about their everyday lives. Despite the heightened military presence, there is no sense of danger or urgency here. Rarely do I spot anything extraordinary: no people clad in police armor trotting about or checkpoints. Instead, all I see and hear are citizens of the Federation living out their lives in total and absolute tranquility. I tap the freezing bar. Scanning happy faces, couples with kids, managers barking to their employees as they load bulks of goods into rear cargo storages. It¡¯s a harrowing contrast compared to the footage we all saw back on the Trinidad. Slumping on the bars, I wonder if Alexandra has seen the footage, and what she thought of as well when she saw this very same scene before me. It must be frustrating. But maybe this is subjective¡­ there could be riots or demonstrations throughout the Federation as news of our endeavor spread. How many people know of our blunder at Toscana? How many will rise in demonstrated danger along their Ruthenian brothers? How many more workers will go on strike in solidarity? The Federation cannot be everywhere at once. I hope Alexandra comes to the same conclusion, too. I take a heavy breather. Ready to step away, but whirl around to the railing once a detail catches my eye. Several platforms to the right, I see a mighty conglomerate of woody and gray urban garb¡ªM88 Perdenka uniforms. Frankish Legionnaires!! I can¡¯t help but straighten up, clearing my throat. Clasping the utterly cold bars. I couldn¡¯t make a precise estimate of the Legion¡¯s formation, but for a casual one, I¡¯ll reason there¡¯s enough manpower to be considered at least four augmented battalions. The legionnaires stand at attention in four deep columns, taking muster at each end of their docking platform. Down the middle of the massive platform bay, an assembly belt leads into the black swaths of a troop carrier. The goods: dozens of sleek, black, and charcoal trans-atmospheric assault gunship transports¡ªthe KH-98 Panther. The sight of this impressive hardware is one to behold. I¡¯ve seen glimpses of them in military magazines in passing and their specs are incredible on paper¡ªalmost too good to be true. A single forty-millimeter auto-cannon lies underneath the exposed underbelly of the thin encased cockpit built with a mixture of ceramics and tungsten. These don¡¯t have them¡ªor they¡¯re being delivered separately, but they can come configured with an incredible array of bombs and missile pods. Under the nose¡ªwhich funnily enough looks like a snorkeling mask¡ªare two suites of cameras capable of a light-second visual range. First-generation KH models were only capable of half a light-year second of visual reading. The back of the panther has a ramp capable of supporting a standard-sized squad of foot soldiers and other miscellaneous military goods. Overlooking the entrance ramp is the impressive thirty-five-millimeter rifle, and just nestled behind it are the fuel pods. What a beautiful piece of hardware! The KH series has always been fascinating to me¡­ and truth be told, I¡¯ve always loved virtual simulation adaptations of them in arcades back home. If anyone were to ask me now what my dream was when I was young, it was to become a pilot for a trans-atmospheric assault gunship. Of course, a little lass¡¯s enthusiasm can be curbed a little when you read up on first-hand accounts of first-generation trans-atmospheric assault gunships that can simply be summed up as brutal. Excessive to create, and operate. Last but not least, their maintenance and rocketing casualty statistics throughout the NOSP era. As the last of them load into the mothership, I observe, lost in the medley of day-to-day port harbor life, as the Legionnaires move out in methodical column formation onto the ramps of the troop ship. I can only sigh, and look out in wonder to the harbor¡¯s tunnels leading outside. We will have to assault an environment like this very soon. But will the layout of Ishtar-Terra be much like this, or something completely unimaginable? Is there any hope of predictability in the fog of war that lies ahead? Thinking back on the incident with Ishikawa, we might have some sense of accountability for the irregulars on board with storming Ishtar-Tera¡ªtheir homeland. Surely, there must be some archival layout of Ishtar-Terra and her colonies available to us. Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators! If there is one thing I agree with Hoffman, that irregulars are still just that: they can be a liability if they¡¯re not carefully reigned in. That is the only thing I will ever agree with that despicable Hoffman. Just the mere mention of this name¡­! And speaking of Ishikawa¡­ glancing at the troop transport now clearing out and readying for departure, it makes me wonder if those were part of the eighteenth corps. I stand aloof with alarm, trying to dart for the gate to the colony¡­ but stopping myself. No, surely, that couldn¡¯t be all of the eighteenth¡ªmaybe there¡¯s a chance I can still confront the Brigadier with an offer. I hop off the platform where Yuri¡¯s shuttle is stationed and make way for the closet booth for directions. This harbor isn¡¯t anything like the one back in Lepanto¡ªit¡¯s a little confusing, and truth be told a little I find myself helpless on how to actually get into Terrassa. I can¡¯t help but let a chuckle escape my lips. I wonder if Friederika found herself in this very situation in Terrassa. I can¡¯t recall if she ever made mention of coming to this particular Side before. But the image of Friederika looking like a lost little babe in a completely alien world like this is too much to bear. But alas, I am the fool here, unlike Friederika, I never did have the care to brush up on any of my Francien. I quickly make note of the directions for the entrance gate and make waves through colorful crowds of citizenry and silk to the steps of the superstructure that dominates the center-back of the harbor. Its closest resemblance is that of a slanted flight of stairs connecting each platform zone. This system doubles as a sort of elevator too from the looks of things. In a wide strip down the middle is an escalator for both ways¡¯ convenience. The thoughts pass over me repeatedly: about the time limit imposed on us by Lusatia, and how long it could take for us to clear out a massive hanger port like this. Although we were instructed in Side conflict, we were never instructed for Side conflict. It¡¯s a last measure, as there are seldom incursions of Side-side combat. In the past, most insurrections were planet-side, like in the Perdenes conflicts of the eighties or the Mars revolution some forty years before that. That may be because given the very nature of a protracted suppression of a Side colony warrants harming the locales. In other words, blockades: no more food and other necessities for the besieged. You have no idea if there are innocent people or not, or if you¡¯re starving out a bunch of good-for-nothings. I can only wonder if Commodore Hugo knew this, and went ahead with Lucky Alphonse anyway because of the hurried nature. Because he wanted to get to L¨¹beck first and claim the prize of the Mafia for himself. Because he was greedy¡­ and we paid the price for serving under an upstart darling of the military. Upstart darling of the military¡­ it¡¯s an awful ring to it. Once this is all done, I can only shudder that it¡¯s the most horrible thing I¡¯ll inherit from the Commodore. If I die in Ishtar-Terra, I¡¯ll be a martyr. A talent tragically taken too soon. If I live, it¡¯ll elevate me and the Happ-Schwarzenberger name. It¡¯s a thought that concerns me, to say the least. Either way, it¡¯ll be inconvenient for my old man and mum. Me being here in the navy, away from their warm security is enough worry for them as is, not knowing if their daughter is dead, maimed. It feels so long ago that mum protested against me joining the military, and how the old man tried to arrange for what he described as a comfortable desk job in SEATO. SEATO! What good would that do me, away from all the trouble that plagues our Federation? As Thunderbolt looms over the horizon and weighs on my shoulders, there is a slight hesitation¡ªmaybe it¡¯s not too late to step away from it all. That harrowing nightmare of Paul and I on the beach, how he spoke of a future where the two of us gave up my dreams to pursue a simple, mundane life. There¡¯s no time for hesitation¡ªno time to turn back now. I¡¯ve made my decision and it¡¯s resolute. The only thing that stands now, though, is if the Admiral and the Brigadier General will approve of my transfer request. I wait eagerly at a crowded carpool staging area. Trying my best to avoid drawing attention to myself. But with this uniform on, I feel out of place. I let my gaze wander until the superstructure keeps it captivated. My mind races, processes everything I know and what I don¡¯t know. It leaves me with wonder if Alexandra ponders the same things I do. About the perils in her homeland, about Ishtar-Terra, about her role in these uncertain times. Chapter 104: Embers of Ishtar | The Sprout of Life Yet Still Withers, Part 3 One hail to a harbor cab later, I find myself strapping in with two other passengers. Bracing in my seat as our taxi bumbles, chokes, and stutters. ¡°What¡¯s wrong, miss?¡± The passenger next to me asks, a tanned man in a flowery summer shirt. A grin under his deep-black beard. I can¡¯t help but break a smile¡ªa nervous one betrays my embarrassment. The passenger next to him laughs. A burly man in tight overalls, hair tied back, and eyes obscured by a faded yellow-colored flat cap. ¡°Where I¡¯m from, these¡­ automobiles belong in museums,¡± I answer. And it¡¯s true. Maybe it¡¯s a little too honest, or too blunt. They don¡¯t say much besides that: but it seems the tanned one does want to say something but refrains. Maybe to avoid a scuffle. Don¡¯t want to avoid any trouble with a military officer of all things. As peaceful as the scenery may be, they¡¯re still tense after all. Yet another reminder we¡¯re paying in blood and sweat to feed you lot. Gripping the steel frame of the flaky antique car, I wonder. Maybe I am simply overthinking my being here¡ªnot me, but the uniform. For what it means, for who it stands for. This is modern for them. The faded yellow thing lets out a lousy honk as the driver yells in gibberish, probably the angry equivalent of a road-rage Aussie in the Old Outback. It¡¯s a whiplash of culture I simply can¡¯t comprehend. They make state-of-the-art modern space warships, yet culturally they¡¯re stuck restarting over, so to speak. The traffic encompassing us is filled with bumpy old things like these, and antiques that make you wonder how they are kept so pristine and still running. Old-fashioned pedaled bikes. Yet, at the harbor exit, it is otherworldly, modern inventions. This is the point where new and world analogy differences collide. It¡¯s the absurdity that baffles me. We drive past a corridor of pyramid-like silos and crane systems, then one of the elevator lifts. After the bumpy road to the elevator, the driver parks and waits. I pay no attention to the others as I look back as the scale of the harbor gets smaller¡ªand disappears entirely once we are inside a dark, imposing tube of sorts. Before long, the weird little domed vehicle reaches the top¡ªand for a brief realization I find myself blinded as my vision readjusts to the colony¡¯s artificial light bulb¡­ and I stand in awe at this lush¡­ this virgin land. A scenic reminiscent of the short but sweet time in Lepanto¡­ chilly, vibrant strokes of villas dot and spring out among the artificial legions of forests. The aggressive nature of forests and imposing hills that snake and swim into the edges of this world. There are patches¡ªso many patches!¡ªof golden wheat fields scattered about. A necessity for Gasson-bound colonies, given their anchor planet is a simple ball of eternally raging ball of gas. Every solar system has its Satursol I suppose. And every solar system, every land, has its Paradise Lost. I¡¯m simply at a loss for words. I stumble off the edge of my seat amid gasps. The tanned harbor hand jumps out of his seat, rushing around to kneel next to me. He asks in broken Anglish if I¡¯m fine, but I merely nod. I instinctively reach out for his supporting hand to keep my balance stable. The bronze chap turns to face the driver of the bizarre contraption called a four-wheeled moving vehicle. ¡°It¡¯s still a long way out to ¨¨gara,¡± or something amongst those lines, as much as I could decipher his not quite Francien, but not quite Anglish accents. ¡°Relax,¡± the man says, ¡°I deal with a lot of true blue marine heads¡­ so I¡¯ve been forced to pick up quick.¡± I blurt out. ¡°Where would I find Federation troops off-duty?¡± Adding. ¡°Where could I find the Legion¡¯s eighteenth corps?¡± I give the man a moment to process what I said. It might be a stretch, given he¡¯s a civilian. He looks back over the horizon, and points. My heart sinks a little¡ªit¡¯ll take a whopping bit to get to even if I were to jog. But watching the man steadily lower his pointing until he reaches what I assume is ¨¨gara. The smack middle of Terrassa. Likely the hub point with the most attractions. He presently explains. ¡°The legion,¡± a glance at me ¡°¡ªthis is from what my father said to me once. According to him, they established themselves deeps in the forest many years ago. Even the hunters who love to sport are warned not to trespass. But starting recently, they emerged and marched with their gear and tools to the harbor. And more are streaming down even now.¡± Only recently? Reflecting on the Admiral¡¯s conversation with Brigadier General Ishikawa, it¡¯s possible, then¡­ ¡°Do I tell the driver you wish to be taken to ¨¨gara?¡± The question snaps me back to attention. I quickly give a nodding approval, returning to my weathered-out leather seat. The old cart kicks off with a cough and we head off the tarmac and steel passage onto something I could only feel and describe equivalently as the Old Outback. We pass by a grandiose scale of forests that seem to pierce the artificial sky. But before long, the otherworldly scale of Terrassa¡¯s opposite inhabitable lush plane is lost to the ashen yet artificial sky and cloud the further we descend this mountainous pass. It¡¯s a slow drive but it gives me ample time to analyze whatever comes into view. The driver sticks close to the rusty-gray physical railings, the only sense of protection from either crashing into and falling to the forestry depths below, or painting the railings grisly red. Back home, rarely are these types of barriers still around. Instead, we have safety cushion paddings and sometimes strong-fiber nets. I shudder, gripping the car¡¯s frame I use as a makeshift handlebar. There¡¯s a slight acceleration of the car and more aggressive corners, and I feel the incarnate need to simply jump off to save my life¡ªbut I persevere. Fast, then slow, and fast again depending on the sharp turns and the traffic. Eventually, we read the foot of this artificial mountain. Presently the harbor chap relays to me that we¡¯ll need to stop at the next way station to check nothing is wrong. Before I know it, we pull up to the storefront of a gas station, lonely except for the company of the shrubbery and an overhanging tree and a rustic open-bed truck with a faded livery parked next to it. Here, away from the future of the harbor, cinnamon fills my nostrils¡ªthe cold air is shivering. A nice breeze for a change of pace. I¡¯m so accustomed to smog and the filthy air back home and spent so much time confined on a ship that I forgot what nice, refreshing air can truly be. Of course, this is merely filtered, recyclable air, much like the Yilan but in the brief moment of it all, it gives me peace of mind. The driver is first to leave, and I turn my attention to the tanned fellow. ¡°I¡¯ll be back, I need a refresher.¡± The man with the flowery shirt gives a nod of acknowledgment and jolts off the humble pale little building. I roam behind the little dull building. To my surprise, there¡¯s a creek in the depression below. There are a few families worth of people simply enjoying themselves. The cinnamon taste fills my nostrils stronger here; a barbecue perhaps? Some of the kids are the first to take notice of me, huddling and whispering, but upon realizing I¡¯m observing them keenly, the kids disperse to the opposite side of the clearing, closer to their family stock. I stick out like a sore thumb in this uniform and this place, it might make things tense if I linger around. I walk opposite of the gathering sticking to the body of water, I watch as it goes on past the overhanging bushes and tree branches. It¡¯s oddly nostalgic for some reason. Of all the times my father took me hunting in Indo-China before I went to Canberra. It seems so distant now, those days. How I hunted for sport, how my old man would teach me about the rifle that was his heirloom, and how little he cared not hiding his excitement for the one hobby he cherishes. It was nice since he was always brooding otherwise. Pops¡­ I stop to kneel, scooping down to cup some of the freezing water. A frowning woman with disheveled golden hair glares back. I raise the lousy cupped water to my mouth for a few sips. And it¡¯s as refreshing and crystal clear as I could imagine. I splash the rest over my cheeks, feeling the blood rush and simply taking in the moment. Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings. The chirp-chirp-chirp the calming flow of water helps put me at ease. It does wonder to remind me that I¡¯m still yet human, not yet lost to the mad brutality that awaits me in Ishtar-Terra. It¡¯s hard to say though, if the Admiral or the Brigadier general will approve of my assignment transfer. But they must! The sound of approaching footsteps prompts me to whirl around, splashing my lower legs with shivering water. Just over the ledge above me, blocking rays of light is a kid no more than a few years younger than me. What was I even tense for? Clearing my throat. I¡¯m not in a hostile environment. These people don¡¯t actively resent us, at least publicly. We maintain eye contact for what seems like a slow passage of time. His long amber hair, green eyes, striped shirt, and loose jeans. This boy has wrapped snugly around his waist a brown jacket and his arms full of fishing gear¡ªa small red-and-white ice container at his boots¡ªand a mighty bronze rod that¡¯s probably longer than his body. The boy must¡¯ve never seen a Federation officer before to be in this state of awe. I simply wave, and it¡¯s enough to break the vex I unwittingly cast over him. The lad opens his mouth to speak¡ªbut it¡¯s not something I comprehend very well. He has quick wits, at least, because he must¡¯ve realized this. My cheeks flush red with embarrassment. It must be all too evident to him now that I¡¯m an outworlder. I muster the strength to smile, giving him a wave that he reciprocates. His smile fades, his gaze past me. I follow it to see a troop of blue uniforms strolling to the way station. Without another word, the fisher boy whistles and goes about his day, disappearing back into the forest. I lose track of him not long after. I can only surmise that in his eyes, it¡¯s not every day you see military folk. Maybe he¡¯s a rural folk¡­ living deep in the sticks of Terrassa. But then again, it¡¯s all sticks here! It wouldn¡¯t be far-fetched to assume he rarely sees people in general. I resume the walk along the creek for a little while longer, but I turn around to jolt back so I don¡¯t keep the cab and the others waiting. I return to the family to find they¡¯re packing up and leaving¡ªsome of the adults cast cautious glances in my direction and the gas station. But paying them no mind, I emerge from the depression to find another cadre of officers and soldiers on leave. They too, are returning to their cab, a black car with a grayish hood. While observing this second group, two of them seem to take notice of me, and I do my best to act cool and pretend I¡¯m merely observing others. To my chagrin, they appear to take a deeper interest in me. The man and woman¡ªa leading seaman, wimpy in stature, and a taller woman with flowing red hair, a tint of orange tips. She¡¯s likely a warrant officer. Alexandra? No. It¡¯s someone else. The pair approach me, and I relax a bit. It¡¯s nice to be with one of my kind again, at least. The man with thick glasses clears his throat. The red-mane woman, who just until now had an air of confidence around her cowers, a sense of embarrassment, awe even. ¡°Excuse me,¡± the leading sailor says. He takes off his blue garrison cap, caressing it in his hands. He clears his throat again. Their arm patches are not a ship I recognize¡­ but they seem to be part of Chal¡¯s fleet at the least. I don¡¯t like where this is going. More admirers. My skin gets goosebumps. The water I splashed myself with earlier still makes me shiver. I straighten up and cross both arms under my chest in an attempt to not give the wrong impression. ¡°You are, um¡­ ensign Victoria Happ-Schwarzenberger, correct?¡± The man asks. I squint at his nameplate: LESSAU. I¡¯m impressed they pronounced it right on the first try, unlike most people. For some reason, the thought makes me grin. I answer. ¡°Not quite,¡± the capture of disappointment on their faces giving away to embarrassment. ¡°One way or another, I¡¯m a lieutenant now. Lieutenant Happ-Schwarzenberger.¡± I suppress the urge to offhandedly remark there¡¯s no need for formalities. It¡¯s my turn to act nervous: ¡°er¡­ was there something you needed from me?¡± How many times will I have to go through this today, I wonder? The woman, Spiegal, speaks up. ¡°This may be a little strange to ask of ¡®ya¡­¡± her accent throws me off so hard. ¡°Well, let¡¯s wait on that for now,¡± Lessau says, and Spiegal clears her throat, trying to hide her beet-red face, twirling her bangs. He turns his attention back to me. His left hand clasps her hand, his other hand projecting his nervousness. Am I that scary to approach¡­? ¡°We¡¯re from the Bataan, and, um¡­¡± Lessau struggles to get the words out. So I was right on the mark¡ªthe Bataan? The ghostly winds tickle the back of my neck. Hold on, that was part of the¡­ ¡°We simply wish to express our gratitude, ma¡¯am,¡± Spiegal chimes in. Lessau twirls his garrison cap in silent agreement. The Bataan is, apparently, a vehicle of pure misfortune¡ªmisfortune that warps into luck, or so I hear. It¡¯s an interesting ship simply because of that fact¡ªhow it once took a direct hit but miraculously remained intact, with very few casualties if any. ¡°O-oh, we never properly introduced ourselves to ¡®ya,¡± Spiegal says, turning to her partner. ¡°I¡¯m Nia Spiegal, a warrant officer assigned to the Bataan, in charge of bridge operations. And this lil¡¯ good-fo¡¯-nothing here¡­¡± The man answers for himself, with a slight smile. ¡°Leading sailor Phillip Lessau,¡± Phillip says. ¡°Likewise from the Bataan¡ªmy job¡¯s more savvy, radar operator.¡± ¡°Were you two¡­ at the forefront when it happened?¡± I ask. The warping of Li¡¯s ships right on top of the destroyer vanguard. Phillip stops twirling his garrison cap, and Nia closes her eyes¡ªand I feel shame for bringing up an insensitive topic so abruptly. ¡°What happened to the Bataan?¡± Phillip takes a deep breath. ¡°Because of your leadership, ma¡¯am¡­¡± Phillip continues to twirl his garrison cap. Nia adjusts his loose, big, opaque glasses from falling off. ¡°The Bataan and her crew managed to limp to safety. But I wish we could say the same for the rest of our screen.¡± It makes my heart sink. The tradition of the Bataan curse is still prominent. I can¡¯t help but rub my shoulders. Behind us, the tanned flowery shirt calls out to me, and I glance at him to gesture that it¡¯ll be a moment. ¡°Going to ¨¨gara, eh?¡± Nia¡¯s smile radiates, ¡°It¡¯s a comfy little place I¡¯ll tell ¡®ya that.¡± ¡°I¡¯m mostly just there to catch up with an old friend,¡± I answer. Truth be told, it¡¯s also to seek out Ishikawa or at least an immediate subordinate of hers in the eighteenth corps. A tertiary objective is merely to scope out anything that might help me in Ishtar-Terra. It¡¯s a bit of a stretch, given that no Side colony interior likely bears little similarity with one another. ¡°I hear they¡¯re gearing up for something big,¡± Phillip says. ¡°That we¡¯re not going home just yet.¡± The bumbling and sputtering of a convoy of deep-green canopy trucks is deafening. I get glimpses of blobs of M88 uniforms beneath the canvas shadows¡ªdozens of pairs of elusive eyes stare back. The rumbling of engines as a column of light and medium tanks follow suit, leaving behind clouds of dust and dirt. Before long, things settle down again. ¡°It looks to be that way,¡± I say innocently. There¡¯s concern written all over his face, and he has reasons to be. Nobody yet truly grasps the hell we will plunge ourselves into. Phillip crosses his arms, frowning in deep thought. ¡°Do you think we¡¯re being shipped off back into Toscana? Now that the main driving force is with us, I mean.¡± ¡°I suppose we¡¯ll find ourselves the answer soon enough,¡± I remark wryly. ¡°We don¡¯t want to keep you waitin¡¯ any longer,¡± Nia says. Indicating that my ride is getting impatient. ¡°When this is all over, and we return home¡­¡± she blushes, exchanging glances with the leading sailor. ¡°The two of us are gonna get married. A-and¡­ we wanted to invite you to our wedding.¡± Oh. I can feel the color draining from my face. I turn around abruptly amidst their curiosity. ¡°Is that a no?¡± The heartbreak in the man¡¯s voice grapples at my heart. When this is all over¡­ Now, I can¡¯t bring myself to tell them. Not of Ishtar-Terra. Not of the League Militaire. Not of my involvement in the upcoming ground operation. I clench my right fist. But I¡¯m not going there to seek death either¡­ I turn back to two puzzled faces. ¡°Yeah,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll be more than happy to come¡ªfor you to have me on an occasion like that. It¡¯d be an honor loves.¡± I pause, swallowing a lump in my throat. ¡°when this is all over, of course. It¡¯s the least I can do, right?¡± I smile weakly. The young couple return the smile¡ªsmiling as in relief. For them, this encounter must¡¯ve gone better than expected. I simply cannot get them worried in any way. With that closing thought, I salute the two and head off to my cab. Strapping in and bracing the makeshift handlebar, the words repeat themselves in my mind. When this is all over. I gaze out at the landscape, at all the cottage villages and the virtual sky. When this is all over. I rest my chin on my left hand, gazing out at this alien world and its vast forests, its many cottage villages, with only that cursed phase lingering in my mind: When this is all over¡­ when we liberate Ishtar-Terra from the influence of League Militaire¡­ what then? Will we redouble our efforts and march back into Ruthenia? Will we simply return home, free of our obligations of Lusatia¡¯s absurd demand of withdrawing to more friendly territory? When this is all over¡­ what does it entail? Chapter 105: Embers of Ishtar | Intermission in the Trinidad
WITHIN A SIMILAR TIME FRAME
The Trinidad
Lieutenant Leo Hodge dreads it here. Each breath he takes fills him with anxiety and releases cold tension. The young Leo, in the prime of his industrious days, waits with a finite well of increasingly clawing patience next to the ostensibly fortified, blast-resistant door of Admiral Ramsay DeRyck¡¯s office quarters. Leo stands a few paces away from a lone marine, with the absolute resolute determination of everyone in the armada tasked with the seemingly daunting task of protecting the Admiral. For Leo, it is difficult to determine if the marine¡ªthe man¡ªis staring him down. Fully clad in state-of-the-art charcoal Panzergrenadier armor, the marine towers over him menacingly. His full-plating helmet resembles too eerily a charred skull: two huge oval shapes of radiating red-within-red terror stare into Leo. Just a few years prior, Leo came close to becoming the small but esteemed¡ªand negligibly overlooked¡ªmarine corps of the Metropolitan Space Navy. Unfortunately, Leo¡¯s eyesight is eighteen out of twenty, and his physique is deemed not desirable. He missed the mark by a razor-thin margin. But it¡¯s a margin that¡¯s absolute, unrelenting. It is a spartan system for the pool of a genetically blessed crop of talented individuals. And one such result of the program stands before Leo¡¯s very eyes. There is nothing more fearsome in this universe than being two paces away from a fully kitted-out Federation marine. They say the only sensation of shock-and-awe that comes close is a Legionnaire foot-soldier. Both are apex killer machines. Both have a friendly inter-service rivalry hearkening back to the good old days of Bloody Perdenes as his pops would say: a marine himself in those times. If only he could see this Panzergrenadier armor now, Leo thinks in awe. The tip of the halberd is a mere pace away from him. The marine¡¯s grip on the mighty halberd is as stern, as unbudging as the nature of the marine¡ªthe flesh. Both ends of the drab sealed fortified hallway are marine sentries, with standard-issue EBR-14 battle on their black, olive-trimmed slings. This is a needless squandering of manpower, Leo thinks to himself. The Lieutenant returns to locking his gaze to the door¡¯s sentry. Not once does the mechanical trooper budge. Leo ponders carelessly in place of sputtering nonsense to the marine: There is taking extra steps in cautionary measures, and then there is excessive paranoia, Leo ponders. There are perhaps four platoons worth of marines on this deck level alone. It¡¯s only been some four months since the Trinidad¡¯s hostage situation back in the terrifying depths of the Rouen corridor. Yet, despite the orderly retreat from the battlefields of Rouen, Leo is compelled to believe the uneasiness never subsided. Leo adjusts his cap with one hand and taps the papers with the other. His thoughts continue: But nothing about this is strategic. It¡¯s a strategic misuse of resources! When the admiral¡¯s fleet marched back to Ruthenia, the tensions lay exposed. Even on the Trinidad, among the rank-and-file sailors, Leo recalls genuine uneasiness. Leo examines the elite training in the marine across from him, occupying a space between himself and the reinforced bulkhead leading into the quagmire of corridors of marines. How much nutrition and rations were needed, between now and that time to maintain in shape? How many families and kids were denied nutrition for this monster? Leo thinks over all that happened during this campaign: Before the Trinidad departed for Rouen, they were welcomed at spaceports even in Merica, and the hinges of Ruthenia, at Zonal, even the distant and seemingly archaic Lombardia colonies displayed no open hostilities toward the Metropolitan armada. After Rouen, it is evident to Leo and all the others adept in keen awareness that the relationship between suzerain and colony is cordially flimsy. With the majority of their supply corp reduced to nothingness, DeRyck was forced into a corner. A corner, Leo ponders, to prepare for a limited form of martial law that Ramsay hoped he never had to invoke. An act necessary to keep a fleet of some four hundred thousand men and women well-fed, and their ships refurbished. Leo remembers it too vividly: The Merica colonists had a bitter welcome. An almost you¡¯ve-overstayed-your-welcome vibe between them and the Admiral, Leo recalls. A shiver down his coat as he rubs his hands. Ruthenia was hell. And the abysmal tolerance of our presence as Ramsay DeRyck skirted through Ruthenia for the Kongriega corridor. Even our passage through Perdenes¡¯s demilitarized space was unsettling and unwelcoming. Leo ponders, just as the marine lifts his halberd and steps a pace toward Leo, padding Leo down roughly in certain spots and regions. This abrupt action reels Leo back to the present. And yet here we are, Leo ponders as the marine turns to speak in encryption through a slider on the door¡ªthe other marine sentry inside the Admiral¡¯s quarters. ¡°The Admiral will have you now,¡± the marine says through the polarizing filter. He steps to the side, the locks hiss as the machinations of the blast door open slowly, some protruding from the pistons hard at work. Steam occludes Leo¡¯s vision as the Lieutenant side-steps upon the recognition of dark silhouettes emerging¡ªwhich shape into a scurry of blue uniform officers passing by. Two Commodores and an adjutant most likely. Leo waits for the marine¡¯s affirmation a second time and enters a room betraying his expectations. Where Leo expects a lofty little office space, the impressions of a chamber fill him instead. A roofed courtyard of sorts. It¡¯s rather a gloom of gray, Leo muses. Occupying the huge space in the middle is a three-dimensional layout of Brenaco and several Lagrange points¡ªamong them highlighted elements of Lagrange point four¡ªIshtar-Terra and the belt of asteroids surrounding it. Elsewhere on the sprawling projection are meta-details of Ishtar-Terra itself. The details, the maps, the excruciating mundane details go on forever. Projected casualty estimates¡ªleaving the calculations of death in machine hands! Leo ponders without a second to shudder¡ªcertain data windows float in places among a zig-zag of overlapping data and analysis leading to the Admiral. The only thing more eerily about this room is the marine out of Leo¡¯s peripheral¡ªthe soulless skeletal eyes piercing into his soul. He must¡¯ve moved to watch me closely. Leo shudders, why must they design such ferocious helmets? Was it the designer¡¯s intention to invoke fear in friend and foe alike? Leo thinks back on the memory when he read a manual for the marine power suit once. The large, oval eye is suitable for displaying archaic calculations and data. But there is no basis for its outward appearance¡ªa charcoal skull. Ponder does Leo¡¯s mind. ¡°Lieutenant Hodge, I take it?¡± The baritone voice of Ramsay brings Leo back to alert. Leo, in perfect fashion despite his failed spartan candidacy, snaps to perfect attentive form. ¡°Sir,¡± Leo addresses the admiral. Behind him are dozens upon dozens of monitors¡ªall displaying the same sort of data and more. Leo catches glimpses of happenings back in Ruthenia. Happenings that seem different¡ªnewer. Leo wishes he could find a way to press this matter, but his missive here is meant to be brief. ¡°I have the dossiers of all officers and their subordinates here and finalized, in paper and flop drives for operation Thunderbolt, sir,¡± Leo adds lastly, ¡°This includes the last-minute additions of selected admission of volunteers.¡± ¡°Thank you, Lieutenant Hodge,¡± the Admiral answers. He approaches Leo and relieves him of the documents and the handful of flop drives. In brief and short order, the ordeal is done. Leo salutes Ramsay and performs an about¡ª ¡°Not yet,¡± Ramsay says. Leo is left confused, glancing at the ominous marine standing at perfect attention behind him. He scans the dark, gloomy room radiated only by the glow of the holographic projections and the scattering of glowing monitors. ¡°You speak of late additions?¡± Ramsay continues. ¡°Volunteers¡ªfrom whom, precisely?¡± He asks, he flips slower through the stack of talents. Something about the question seemed off to Leo. ¡°Only a couple, sir.¡± The officer answers. ¡°I was told of one from¡ª¡° ¡°Ah-h-h-h,¡± Ramsay stops flicking through the pages. Leo catches a glimpse of surprise, evident by the sudden bulging of his eyes from beneath weary eyelids¡­ a smile at the crevice of his mouth. ¡°What an interesting development¡­¡± Suddenly, a ringing echoes through the window. Leo stiffens. Above them, a large, translucent meta window flashes an impending call from the governor of the Lothian star region¡ªencompassing Gasson, Gaul, Albeonia, and Iswanda. ¡°Put it on visual call,¡± Ramsay straightens up, stuffing the contents into his jacket. He gestures for the marine and Leo to stay where they are. The video screen flickers then to a golden-wood desk of a man no older than the Admiral¡ªslick, professionally slicked back hair, a tail of white hair twirls around his forehead. This man wears a caramel-colored business suit with a clever little teal tie against a peachy dress shirt. The muscle is still there, but he¡¯s a glum man past his prime, something of a split between university professor and door-to-door salesperson of old Terra, Leo muses. ¡°You are a. . . difficult man to reach. . . Admiral Ramsay.¡± The hefty tone fills the deafening room. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. Ramsay clears his throat. ¡°Governor Tiebold,¡± tilting his head back. ¡°If this is about the¡ª¡± ¡°Of course, it¡¯s about the media blackout!¡± Tiebold snaps, dropping all pretenses of cordial talk. ¡°The press, the media. . . They demand answers, Admiral,¡± he puffs with a sigh, ¡°I¡¯m at my wit¡¯s ends with these fools! Sooner or later, they will frame this as extra judicial¡ªas martial law!¡° ¡°It is necessary given the state of affairs,¡± the Admiral says calmly. ¡°Garofano keeps me informed of the situation in Lusatia.¡± ¡°This is not about Lusatia,¡± Tiebold counters, ¡°this is about Lothian¡ªabout your quarantine of the free passage through Frankish lanes¡­ this is not only about the press! It is a violation of free speech, of trade, of¡­¡± ¡°I understand the resentment the Metropolitan fleet generates,¡± DeRyck says, ¡°and the measures I implemented to contain and reduce harm¡­ serves as a double-edged inconvenience for the populaces of Lothian. It is disparaging, governor, that I need to resort to curbing such freedoms. However¡ª¡° ¡°However?¡± Tiebold sneers, cupping his hands together. ¡°You as well as the public need to grasp the greater picture here. We are not dealing with simple pirates, governor, you must remember we are dealing with a far greater adversary¡­¡± Then, Tiebold leans back in his chair. To Leo, it seems the governor finally realizes the military plans are all too plain to see. ¡°Ishtar-Terra!¡± The governor¡¯s eyes bulge wide¡ªa glance off-screen. Leo is off-guard when the governor slams his desk as he straightens up. ¡°Why was this detail never revealed to me sooner?!¡± Leo observes as the Admiral relaxes, reaching into his jacket to procure a few of the roster slips. ¡°Have you heard the saying before, governor? Loose lips sink ships.¡± ¡°Are you meaning to indicate . . . That there are . . . Renegade. . . Legionnaire agents about?¡± The governor asks, hushing tone. Tiebold rises from his chair to lean into the camera. Despite the blurry low-quality transmission, Leo spots precipitation forming on the governor¡¯s forehead. ¡°So it is true, then?¡± The Admiral exchanges glances with Leo, before answering. ¡°That may be the case, governor. I can¡¯t rule it out, but I can¡¯t say for certain, either.¡± ¡°Is that why I had to go through. . . So many. . . Channels to reach you. Is this. . . Correct, Admiral?¡± Leo ponders on this. This explains the need for a physical courier and the risks of intercepting and decrypting long-distance communication. Leo clears his throat, a tug at his tie. His hands were suddenly free of contents and without purpose. The pronounced marine security detail, the tight lease on media and civil rights¡­ it¡¯s all a measure in place because who truly knows what the Legionnaires are capable of? We trained and disciplined these tools of efficient killers with the most prestigious and spartan training a modern warrior could strive for, and now we must fight to destroy what we made. Leo¡¯s thoughts consume him for the next couple of minutes, drowning out the conversation between Ramsay and Tiebold. ¡°I will give the order to relax news from the outside world,¡± the Admiral declares, ripping Leo from the depths of his mind. ¡°I believe the timing for it is now. It was not my intention for the gag to last forever¡ªonly until military operations were close to the starting line,¡± the subtle tightening of his lip and squinting tells Leo this is not the case. If DeRyck was younger and ambitious like that Chal Hugo fellow, Leo wonders carelessly, there¡¯s no telling how long it¡¯d be until Ramsay loses himself to the inescapable throes of dictatorship. The Admiral continues. ¡°Is there anything else you desire of me, mister Tiebold?¡± ¡°You know of the strikes unfolding in the Lebon star zone?¡± Tiebold asks, wiping his forehead with a handkerchief presented to him by an off-screen aide. ¡°Of the incident at Side Tebourba?¡± ¡°The situation in the Frankish Domain is just as dire here as it is across the galaxy,¡± the Admiral answers. ¡°How . . . Do you plan to deal. . . With the troubling there?¡± ¡°Which particular case bothers you, sir?¡± ¡°Do not be coy with me, Ramsay!¡± The politician says with agitation, slamming his table. ¡°Lusatia is . . .¡± Tiebold stops, his eyes flicker as he clears a lump in his throat. Is he jumping to conclusions on Lusatia? Leo wonders. The governor continues, ¡°It would make Lusatia . . . uncomfortable that these villainous zealots are capable of such long-range strikes! You could¡¯ve prevented this, Admiral¡ª¡° Ramsay glances at Leo and the marine before he counters the politician. ¡°It is because of the fellow Chal that has defied my expectations¡ªthe missive of the Senate . . . here. I had him posted here to act as my eyes and ears over Brenaco¡ªand he veered off and has put enormous pressure on the fleet as a result of his misdemeanor.¡± Only a misdemeanor! Leo protests. The governor of Lothian leans back in his great big brown-and-black leathery chair. ¡°Does the senate . . . Know yet of Hugo¡¯s misdeeds?¡± There is a spell of silence in the room, interrupted only by the low rings and beeps of circuits and computing machines. Finally, the Admiral answers. ¡°They will by now. I left no error, no misleading hiding in any of my after-action reports since arriving in Albeonia. ¡°In any case, governor, I am rather reluctant to draw from my available force¡ªthough at this time,¡± a click of his tongue as the Admiral strokes his chin, ¡°it would ease the burden my fleet imposes if nothing else. I will arrange for three divisions of three cruisers and two battalions of marines. That should be enough to cover your doubts at the expense of providing foodstuffs, governor.¡± Leo notes the precipitation forming on Tiebold¡¯s face again. A slight draining of his cheeks. ¡°I¡­¡± Tiebold mutters. ¡°Or would increased military presence trouble Lusatia, too?¡± Ramsay continues. ¡°More tightening of hyper-lanes, more shifting of the trade routes. The restriction around Gasson will relax, sir, but its influence steeps and bleeds elsewhere,¡± DeRyck pauses, turning his back to Tiebold and Leo. He touches the roster papers again, padding his breast. ¡°I can maintain the peace¡ªprotect the innocent. That is the mission of the Metropolitan Space Navy. But it could entail disruption of everyday lives as that expense,¡± Ramsay turns to the monitor. ¡°I will provide what rations I can allocate for this task force, at least half.¡± ¡°Half?!¡± Tiebold gawks, jaw hanging low from the proposal. An extended sigh deflates him as the politician sinks onto his seat. ¡°It¡¯ll be modest compared to the price that the locals pay here,¡± Ramsay says. ¡°There truly is no other way?¡± Tiebold mumbles. The man is ghoulish now, his cool, combed hair unraveling from the sweat. ¡°This will only be a temporary measure, governor,¡± Ramsay says with coolness. ¡°Lusatia has given me a deadline before the fleet¡¯s presence here is ruled unconstitutional.¡± And then what? Leo wonders. There is peril at every corner, it seems. The navy cannot be everywhere at once, where it goes, it vanquishes and restores order. Where it departs, trouble and tensions take root. Ruthenia is fundamentally a case of that as we speak. ¡°Unconstitutional!¡± Tiebold barks. Leo is taken aback by his renewed frustration. ¡°Do you have any inkling of what they say of you in Ruthenia¡­?¡± ¡°I merely perform my duties given the circumstances,¡± Ramsay counters, seemingly ignoring the question. ¡°Continued Metropolitan presence in those systems is a powder keg, sir. I have spoken with Tory myself. He uttered to me: ¡®What the People need¡ªwhat they desire, is a Ruthenian solution to a Ruthenian problem.¡¯¡± ¡°And yet you had the gall to trespass and trample on Perdenes autonomy¡ªtheir demilitarized space.¡± The Admiral remains silent for a minute. ¡°It was done in proper procedure,¡± Ramsay finally answers, wincing. ¡°Legally, per Perdenes¡¯s Toto Concord. Dismantling and an auxiliary transportation of armaments.¡± ¡°Brenaco, Ishtar-Terra¡­¡± Tiebold muses, leaning forward and cupping his chin with both hands. ¡°What if you fail? What then, Admiral?¡± He leans back and throws his hands to the sides. ¡°What if all these measures you speak of are for naught?¡± ¡°Then I will testify before the Senate of my wrongdoings and accept without fail whatever sentence they impose on me,¡± Ramsay answers with coolness. ¡°I have accomplished, for the most part, the campaign¡¯s goals. It was not in my mission directive to pacify Ruthenia.¡± Upon the mention of the mission directive, Tiebold takes interest and sits up straight. ¡°Prime minister Preece doesn¡¯t object to your handling of the Ruthenia stability?¡± The tone, Leo notes, is full of genuine surprise. Ramsay shakes his head. ¡°You must understand that communication with Terra is slow, governor. Even now,¡± Leo and the Admiral glance past the governor¡¯s video screen at the televised mounts depicting a plethora of Ruthenian news coverage. ¡°We are receiving, here, events that have happened in the time frame of a couple of weeks ago, at least.¡± ¡°The situation worsens?¡± Tiebold whispers. His eyes widen. ¡°You will have to see for yourself in your spare time, governor,¡± Ramsay answers. A deep sigh as he adjusts his cap. ¡°Is there anything else you need from me? I already told you I will relax the gag on media outlets and such, and send a security detail to Chabon and Lebon. If you feel the need to interrogate me further, save it for another time. The time you robbed me is equivalent to the ships and lives I¡¯ll have lost in the upcoming military operation.¡± The governor sighs and wipes his forehead. Tiebold flashes a smile and clasps his hands together on the desk, as though it was all an act. Typical politicians, Leo muses. The Lothian governor signs off, and the blue luminescent window shrinks to nothing. Leo once again finds himself surrounded and in awe by the layer-upon layers of strategic planning and simulations. Leo clears his throat, curiosity fuels him to take a pace forward. ¡°Sir¡ªwhat was that all about regarding perfect timing?¡± ¡°Oh, Lieutenant Hodge¡ªyou¡¯re still here,¡± the Admiral says, his back to Leo. The marine watches Leo closely. Do they still hold me as suspect? Leo wonders. Ramsay says. ¡°Do you remember Alexandra Descartes-Dolz, Lieutenant Hodge?¡± The question catches Leo off-guard, but how could he forget about the Trinidad¡¯s Ruthenian idol? ¡°What about her?¡± Leo inquires, and then, suddenly, it occurs to him the correlation between releasing Ruthenia news now and the Ruthenian officer. ¡°Currently, she is at Side Teressa,¡± the Admiral says. Shifting from his desk to a nearby floating holographic console. ¡°And it¡¯s only natural to assume that the daughter of Vincent Happ will be there as well.¡± He holds up a personnel sheet of a young blonde woman. ¡°What wonders will stem from this encounter of theirs? And particularly, what motivations will grapple Alexandra?¡± Chapter 106: Embers of Ishtar | The Sprout of Life Yet Still Withers, Part 4 The ramshackle motorized bug-like vehicle grinds¡ªor if the jumpiness can be expressed better¡ªgroans as it shutters to a halt just on the outskirts of what I believe is ¨¨gara. Where we were once shrouded by nothing but a vast forest, I find myself peering at a concrete jungle. And now that I¡¯m here, it¡¯s just as breathless as the entrance of the colony. Being this up close, now more than ever it feels like I have stepped foot into some period drama dating back centuries. It¡¯s too shocking to me that this is modern for them if this bumbling taxi isn¡¯t painfully obvious enough really. The other passengers have gone already. I felt too embarrassed to disembark before them since I may have gone overboard with currency conversation and didn''t want to ask them what the proper amount would be. The fat wad of bills in my pocket, however, appears important enough to be worthwhile. I feel it somewhat appropriate for me to be left alone with the driver, lest I add more to the pile of growing guilt within me. Feigning innocence, I hop out of the car, taking a few steps from the vehicle for a very much real stretch. I haven¡¯t budged much in the cramped contraption, mostly since I did not want to bother the passenger in the back with me. And on a near-perfect cue, the taxi driver calls out to me in Anglish that would make my headmistress from all those years ago snap that pointer of her while seething profusely. ¡°Oi! Miss, are ya forgettin¡¯ somethin¡¯ or what?¡± I try my best to suppress a smirk, masking it with a surprise as I whirl around with bulging eyes. ¡°Oh¡­ sorry, here,¡± I reach into my pocket, taking out the wad of colorful paper money native to Francia. ¡°This should be enough, I hope?¡± I ask. I lick the tip of my left index finger and run through most of the wads of paper, taking out a dozen slips and leaving myself with only a few. I have no idea how much this is equivalent to the currency back home. Mixing deceptiveness with a genuine lack of knowledge, I hand him the larger amount with a shy grin. The look on his face is priceless. It¡¯s like I handed him a million dollars with no strings attached. Or maybe he thinks I take him for a fool? He must not be used to it at least. For me, it doesn¡¯t matter either way. It¡¯s not like I¡¯ll need any of it after the military operation begins. ¡°I,¡± he clears his throat. ¡°T, thank you miss.¡± The taxi driver utters, with one hand he reaches out and I hand him the cash without another word. At the end of the day, I can always bum off Friederika or even Alexandra for money if I need any money for cash. Where could those two be, anyway? And then there¡¯s Paul¡­ Excusing myself from the taxi driver, I walk aimlessly through ¨¨gara¡¯s outskirts. But now that I think about it, this might be the suburbs. Rows upon rows of identical housing line avenues no matter where I look, their red or brown tiled roofs stand out peeking through the scattered bouts of forestry that manage to penetrate this part of the town. Through a bit of trekking, I reach what is probably the heart of ¨¨gara. It¡¯s only now upon reflecting on it does it occur to me I should¡¯ve had the taxi driver drive me further inward, but it doesn¡¯t matter now, it¡¯s only an hour or three lost. At worst, I stand out like a sore thumb, a lost lamb wandering from den to den looking for its kin. I could just be overthinking it though. Frankly, I don¡¯t want any poor sod approaching me asking me if I¡¯m lost. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. With a deep sigh, it makes me wonder if maybe it would¡¯ve been for the better waiting for the taxi driver to drive past the outskirts. Wandering into a literal alien territory like this is embarrassing the more it grows on me. Eventually, I see an artificial lake and decide to take a rest along its railing. I choose a spot away from civilians; some fishing and others enjoying the peaceful moment of their lives. Peacefulness. That¡¯s a word I should¡ªand everyone¡ªshould cherish and take for granted. In a few days, it¡¯s a word that will feel just as foreign as this colony. A word I will have to de-familiarize myself with soon enough. Peace¡­ just as artificial as the body of water before me. Could peace ever truly exist in our time, I wonder? Humanity has never experienced widespread intergalactic conflict in the past three or four hundred years since the bombs first fell on old Terra, a planet scarred and rendered inhabitable outside of parts of Oceania and the Australian continents. And now we¡¯re treading the path before an approaching storm. That¡¯s why we were stationed here. That¡¯s why Alexandra and I went our separate ways; for my fleet in particular we were assigned the Franks¡ªand seemingly, in reality, monitor Jonathan Churchill and his League Militaire. Why were they allowed to exist after all this time? Why didn¡¯t the Federation react sooner¡­? There are too many thoughts entrapping me in a vicious cycle of anxiety. I came here hoping to shake them off but it¡¯s doing me no good. A peculiar bird interrupts my thoughts and swoops next to me. It flaps its wings in a predatory manner and stares at me with its beady eyes, but does nothing but stare me down in a confrontational matter. Several more of its troops land on the bars around me, and they let out one squawk after another. I shoo them away to no avail. They¡¯re here to stay¡ªit¡¯s their territory after all. Aren¡¯t I the intruder for being in their land? I turn to face the city. No matter how I look at it and no matter where I look it¡¯s all the same. These Francien folk truly live in the equivalent of Terra¡¯s medieval Industrial era. All these buildings look older than my old man¡­ older than the structures I once saw in Indo-China when I was a pipsqueak. It¡¯s astonishing. Any moment now I could expect some camera crew to jump-scare me while some old white dude screams cut! It¡¯s unsettling. But this is real life. This is our reality. This is just within the Frankish Domain, one of the closest collective star systems concerning Terra, both by relative distance and economic-political ties. How is it in the far hinges of space? In Toscana? In Lombardia? After we¡¯re done here, what¡¯s next? Do we head back to Ruthenia? Do we simply head back home¡­ mission accomplished? There is no end to human squabble. For as long as two people exist they will want to squabble with each other. It¡¯s just in human nature¡ªit¡¯s in our DNA to act as such. But I get none of that here. I don¡¯t have that feeling of tension or uneven equality. No class struggles, not even protests or side glances for foreigners like me. Although the Admiral did mention at the strategic meeting the provincial capital of the Franks, Lusatia, strongly condemns us for our prolonged presence here. Foreigners¡­ it¡¯s an odd but sad way to put that. I can bet most of the average populace here doesn¡¯t speak a lick of Anglish, maybe a butchered neutered version of it. Even Alexandra¡ªalthough Ruthenian by blood¡ªstruggles with it sometimes. Alexandra¡­ I wonder where she could be. ¡°Well, well, well¡­!¡± I can almost hear her annoying snarky voice in my head still. ¡°Going to ignore me, aren¡¯t ya?¡± I should start looking for her before I start hallucinating or something. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you? Have you gone deaf on me now?¡± I turn to step away¡ªonly to bump into someone, falling flat on my bum. A blue-sleeved arm gradually extends out, and I reach for it. ¡°Oh blimey,¡± I say. ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t see you there¡ªoh!¡± My blood freezes. I wasn¡¯t hallucinating. The average height, slender, red-haired mane of Ruthenia herself stands before me. She flashes her freaky sharp row of teeth with that imposing evil glare of hers. ¡°It¡¯s been a while, hasn¡¯t it?¡± The woman says it in such a way that it¡¯s nearly a sneer. ¡°Alexandra Descartes-Dolz.¡± I mutter in awe. Eyes wide as they could be. My jaw drops on its own. ¡°The one and only,¡± the Ruthenian says with a boastful air of confidence. Behind her, peeks her lackey¡­ whose name I can¡¯t exactly recall, Vinnie wasn¡¯t it? The one I never see without Alexandra. She¡¯s practically Alexandra¡¯s very own Friederika. It¡¯s her. It¡¯s really her. Alexandra Descartes-Dolz! Chapter 107: Embers of Ishtar | The Sprout of Life Yet Still Withers, Part 5 ¡°You¡¯re still alive, Victoria!¡± Alexandra says, and I hear in her voice her concealed excitement¡ªshe¡¯s trying to keep it together. I can see it in her eyes, her joy¡ªholding back tears of joy. She moves too fast and hugs me¡ªand all I hear reverberate is the cracking of my back as she hugs me tightly. A grunt slips from beneath my lips, but she pays it no mind. ¡°I¡¯m so glad you¡¯re alive,¡± Alexandra says again. This time her voice cracks. I reciprocate by wrapping my arms tightly around Alexandra. I dart my eyes from a Vinnie powerless to hide her jealousy. Alexandra pulls away¡ªbut is quick to grasp my cheeks and butt her head against mine for a kiss on the cheek¡ªa slip away from lips. ¡°Is this one of your Ruthenian greetings?¡± I mutter, a little in disbelief at the prospect that I nearly have my virgin kiss stolen from me. And from Alexandra from all people! ¡°Is that how you treat a good friend after separation for so long in Australia?!¡± Alexandra tries to step on my boot but refrains at the last second¡ªa kick in the shin is enough for her. Another grunt from me. Alexandra continues, ¡°I never thought¡­ I would see you again.¡± And she would be right. By some divine miracle, I had a brush with death. I practically did almost die. Almost. I lessen my grip on Alexandra, which she does likewise. She takes a few steps away, brushing her eyes with a sleeve and quickly regaining her composure. She pays no mind to Vinnie, much to the latter¡¯s dismay. Vinnie steps away to give us some space. Poor Vinnie. ¡°Well!¡± Alexandra crosses her arms. ¡°Not that I expected you would die!¡± Heh, I fail to conceal a scoff. Whether or not she pays any notice to it doesn¡¯t matter. ¡°But we do have some catching up to do, don¡¯t we? Entertain me, Vicky.¡± Alexandra coolly leans against the railing next to me, inviting me to the afternoon lake view with her. ¡°Blimey, where do I even begin?¡± I ask. Alexandra laughs¡ªthat annoying seagull laugh of hers that¡¯s all too obnoxious. ¡°From the start, love! Where else?¡± ¡°I see your poor attempt at Aussie hasn¡¯t changed one bit. That¡¯s one thing that hasn¡¯t changed about you.¡± ¡°Only when I¡¯m with you, darling.¡± She says, a jab at the ribs. ¡°No really love, stop it, it¡¯s embarrassing to me and Aussies everywhere,¡± I answer. What is wrong with this woman? ¡°What happened here in good ol¡¯ Francia while I was out with the main fleet, for starters,¡± Alexandra says, with a hint of seriousness in her voice. ¡°What warranted leaving behind my homeland for an unpleasant venture across the Kongriega corridor?¡± ¡°Unpleasant?¡± I say. But Alexandra doesn¡¯t answer, she peers out to the vast body of water, a solemn expression across her face. Her jolly grin is gone. The three of us watch on in silence as a school of swans glide peacefully across the gentle water, leaving a trail of ripples disturbing the peace. I begin to speak. ¡°Back in August, the commander of our fleet decided to cross into Toscana territory through Valspon¡ªMafia territory and strike at its capitol in L¨¹beck. After the initial operation briefing, I made a flashy example that this was not a sound idea.¡± I stop, glancing at Alexandra for a reaction. ¡°Because, after all, that wasn¡¯t in our mission directive: we were to stay in the Frankish Domains and nothing more. ¡°At the time, I wasn¡¯t aware of our true objective¡­ Well, it¡¯s hard to say if it is true now¡ªthat we were supposed to keep an eye on the League Militaire, who operate out of a previously lost Cluster colony. Back in August, it was just that: we were to keep an eye on and observe Frankish activity in the region.¡± Whatever it is, it¡¯s hidden behind a stoic wall. I continue. ¡°The commander of my ship disapproved of my unauthorized use of tactical operation usage and gave me a slap on the wrist,¡± I wince, remembering the incident in which we were thrown into a cellar for a bit. It¡¯s like picking at a healing wound, remembering Buttermilch and our talk. I almost want to stop, but I feel it¡¯s necessary to give Alexandra the full story¡ªas much as I can. I take a deep breath before continuing. Alexandra hasn¡¯t said or done anything since I started talking. ¡°We crossed into the Valspon system without issue, and to my knowledge without giving the pirate fellows a chance of amenity, we opened fire, then we began blockading the first Cluster¡ªMalabo. But they broke out not long after that¡ªa withered old man gave his life so his fellow pirates could flee to the next Side; Baltit.¡± I grip the bars, I catch Alexandra¡¯s eye for a brief second as she notices me stiffening up. ¡°Baltit is where everything went wrong. I wanted to go to the strategic meeting that was scheduled then¡ªto stay as one uniform group or split up and chase after the side at Baltit¡ªand then split up again and head for L¨¹beck. ¡°That¡¯s where my simulation stunt came to mind, in my and my ship commander¡¯s eyes. We knew it would be a bad idea¡ªto split an already small naval force into smaller strike forces. Not only L¨¹beck, but the fleet commander, Chal Hugo, wanted to secure our rear, too. That force was much smaller than the others we had. ¡°I wanted to¡­¡± My knuckles hurt as I squeeze harder on the railing. ¡°I wanted to make my voice heard first and foremost at the Malabo strategic meeting. I wanted everyone to know that this venture into Toscana was going to be a disaster if we did this. Buttermilch knew how I felt¡ªButtermilch was my ship¡¯s commander. ¡°But it was reserved for department heads only. If only I was his adjutant¡­! If only! Things could¡¯ve been different, Alexandra!¡± I turn to face her, unable to contain the frustration I¡¯ve fostered all this time. Alexandra seemingly pays me no mind, her eyes on an emerging family of black swans circling the white ones. Both groups hiss at each other. Some of the black swans are rearing to flap their wings. The water below us isn¡¯t calm anymore, the waves are more apparent. ¡°Such idiocy!¡± I mutter, trying to refrain from causing a scene. The civilians near us go about their day without a care in the world for us. It¡¯s like they¡¯re in their own little bubble¡­ how envious of them I am. ¡°From what Buttermilch told me, Commodore Hugo praised me for my publicity stunt, but it wasn¡¯t enough¡­ it wasn¡¯t enough!¡± I slam the bar again, a pulse of pain from the hard metal. I grit my teeth continuously. ¡°It didn¡¯t make a bloody difference in the end.¡± ¡°And then what?¡± Alexandra asks softly. Her gaze never breaks off from the swans in the fixated standoff between parties. ¡°The Commodore¡¯s aide insisted that this was the way for the operation to proceed. For us¡ªfor Hugo to gain his fame and glory,¡± I say in almost a mocking way. Fame and glory paved with blood¡ªbut without the fame and glory. The only one who gained any notoriety was the Mafia in the end. After another deep breath, I continue. ¡°¡¯Take the capital and the rest crumble¡¯. There was no actual opposition to us at this point, other than the harbor of both Sides being stiff. It was almost like Hugo was in a hurry to secure his victory¡­ After all, we were deviating away from mission directives at that point. We left the Frankish Domain in a vulnerable state¡ªunbeknownst to any of us with the League, that is. ¡°Our squadron was the one to head for L¨¹beck.¡± I clear my throat, grasping my elbows and peering into the flaky reflection of a miserable blonde below. ¡°Hugo was so confident that he¡ªthat no one expected a counterattack of any sort. We were truly so confident in our strike that we believed that the mafia in Valspon was cut off from communication¡ªbut we were wrong.¡± Alexandra glances at me as I continue. ¡°It started with a captured Federation battleship that warped right on top of our forward destroyer squadron,¡± I say softly, just loud enough over the waves below. ¡°No one saw it coming. Few survived to warn the rest.¡± I close my eyes, remembering those precious moments when I should have died. When most of our bridge was sucked into the void. When the personnel next to me were ripped away, her cries were on deaf ears. It could¡¯ve been prevented. The Yilan paid a terrible price. It should¡¯ve been me. ¡°My ship was rammed,¡± I say with a deep breath. ¡°Buttermilch was pierced by a loose metal rod. He saved me¡ªand he died instantly.¡± I raise my head, unable to bring myself to recount what happened in those few seconds I was deprived of oxygen. That horrific near-death experience that is forever haunting. Straightening up, I continue. ¡°I took temporary control of what remained of our fleet and maneuvered back to safety¡ªsoon enough, our fleet retreated into Frankish territory. Our ship was the last to go.¡± ¡°The last to leave?¡± Alexandra asks. I nod. ¡°You didn¡¯t stand and face¡­¡± ¡°I met the Madame Scarface personally,¡± I answer. ¡°And you didn¡¯t kill her?¡± ¡°I spared her, and she spared me,¡± I say. ¡°Because I cared more about the safety of the personnel that listened and wanted hope." ¡°Hope,¡± Alexandra repeats. She backs away from the railing. Her expression was all the more serious. ¡°Hope?¡± More tense this time, she grits her teeth, flashing her rows of sharp teeth. Without warning she grabs me by the collar, pushing me onto the railing. Vinnie and I nearly cry out in unison. Alexandra stares intensely into my soul. Her eyes twitch as she speaks, her lips curl¡ªtwitching as if fighting against her feelings. ¡°You didn¡¯t kill her. You didn¡¯t fight back. My brethren died for your hope. You forfeited their hope for yours. You lived so they could die.¡± The anger in her eyes paralyzes me. ¡°I, none of us had any idea¡­¡± I stammer, ¡°We had no idea the Madame Scarface nor the mafia fleet was engaged with the Admiral at the opposite end of Toscana!¡± ¡°But the fleet was there!¡± Alexandra says, trying to stifle her voice. ¡°You had the only chance to neutralize her and the fleet¡­ and you didn¡¯t. Why? Why?!¡± Alexandra slams me into the railing. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you kill her and save lives, Victoria? Why!?¡± The tears swell in her eyes. ¡°So many lives lost because you were bloody fucking selfish!¡± I just wanted to live. And despite all that, so many died because of me. Far more than I could¡¯ve possibly imagined. It¡¯s like my world is shattered thinking about it. I destroyed lives so I could save a precious few. It¡¯s coming back to haunt me when the last thing I told Li Chou was to give ¡®em hell at Rouen. I can¡¯t even think anymore. The deepest depths of hell await me. And even then it wouldn¡¯t be enough to repent. Alexandra lets me go, and I fall to the ground. Vinnie tries to kneel and comfort me, but it makes no difference. Slowly, with Vinnie¡¯s help I rise to my feet. I can¡¯t be bothered looking around for others¡¯ reactions. Nobody in their right mind would want to intervene. This is a matter between us¡ªit doesn¡¯t directly concern them. ¡°Even at Rouen, my brethren acted rashly,¡± Alexandra says, somewhat relaxed this time. She leans onto the railing, following the wider circle of black swans outing the white school of swans, who retreat to an isolated island to our right. ¡°They charged in without support, and the Admiral gave them free rein. In the end, we were just cannon fodder for the main force. We almost had them.¡± Alexandra bangs the railing. Again, and again. ¡°We almost had them! Even when they held our flagship hostage¡­ even after we retreated and tried again¡­ the Admiral turned his back on the mountain of corpses he created!¡± She shoots a glare at me before continuing. ¡°You Aussies are truly all the same! It¡¯s despicable. If it were me¡­¡± ¡°You would charge straight back into the fray?¡± I ask. Knowing the answer all too well. Likewise, Alexandra doesn¡¯t answer. Alexandra begins. ¡°I¡¯ve seen the suffering of so many people throughout the galaxy. Needy people. Sides in poor conditions. Communities are distraught and rife with crime and unemployment. We, the soldiers of the Federation, fight for their freedom and security. But what good is that when there¡¯s injustice in day-to day-life? Everywhere we went, every place I went ashore to, it felt the same. ¡°But not here, not in Francia. Not in ¨¨gara. It¡¯s peaceful here. No one is suffering. It¡¯s almost like they enjoy the same luxuries as the people back in Aussland. It¡¯s¡­¡± She lowers her head over the bars, before raising her head again. ¡°Frustrating. It hurts me on a spiritual and patriotic level. I wish for a world where everyone everywhere can experience the same tranquility, the same peacefulness as here and Terra. Why must it be so, Victoria? You must feel the same way.¡± This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it. I almost feel compelled to nod. ¡°You and I joined up to make the Federation a better tomorrow for generations to come, did we not?¡± Again, I nod in agreement. ¡°Why must we squabble and bicker with one another? I just do not understand. I told you once that my father was against me coming to the Academy, remember? That was a lie.¡± I can¡¯t help but turn to her in confusion. What? ¡°He demanded I go,¡± Alexandra continues, staring out at the black swans enjoying their newfound supremacy. The white swans waddled ashore to their island, holding the black ones in contempt for their domination of the sea. ¡°It¡¯s too dangerous in Ruthenia, Victoria. Even for me. When I told you it was too scary to put on the uniform in my homeland, I was not kidding. The contempt for Australians is unimaginable¡ªthere is no way I can describe it for you unless you went firsthand. ¡°What happened in Toscana was the final straw. When I departed Ruthenia the first time, it wasn¡¯t bad. When I returned from Toscana, people were in open arms.¡± I interject, stiffening up as I do so. ¡°The Admiral told us all about it, I saw some video footage of it firsthand,¡± even thinking about it gives me goosebumps. ¡°I believe every last bit of what it and you say.¡± Alexandra gives a nod as she continues. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen anything like it before. For a brief period, I couldn¡¯t go anywhere without guards. Not because I wore the uniform but because I¡¯m the daughter of the most influential leader in all of Ruthenia.¡± ¡°Tory Dolz, the Mad Dog of Ruthenia,¡± I say. Alexandra scoffs. Lowering her head again. ¡°Now they call him the Lion of the Rebellion,¡± she says, raising her head again. ¡°My father is regarded as the most radical of the Ruthenians¡ªhe hates Terra with a passion.¡± I interject. ¡°Then why send you to Australia¡­?¡± ¡°That¡¯s the thing, Vicky! He¡¯s the least radical back home. He¡¯s what keeps the extremists at bay. It¡¯s because of him that Ruthenia isn¡¯t at war with the rest of the galaxy¡ªat least Metropolitan Sol. Vicky¡­ he¡¯s responsible for organizing the Emergency Committee for Ruthenia. He wants a peaceful resolution to all of this nonsense!¡± So he wanted to keep his daughter safe from immediate danger by keeping her under surveillance at the Academy. ¡°I want to live in a world where fear is vanquished and nobody has to live day by day wondering if they can afford a loaf of bread and eggs for their family,¡± Alexandra declares. ¡°A world free of corruption. A paradise where people live as they are here in Francia, in Terra. ¡°It is inhumane that the rest of the galaxy lives in poverty and oppression in contrast, don¡¯t you think?¡± ¡°If only the world was that simple,¡± I answer. The moment of silence between us is only interrupted by the occasional wave and the hissing of swans below us. Perhaps they yearn for food from their human belligerents? ¡°Back home, the swan is regarded as our patriotic symbol.¡± ¡°Because it¡¯s a bully to other species?¡± I ask, taken aback by this sudden change in subject. There¡¯s a long silence before Alexandra answers. ¡°Something like that. We see ourselves as too prideful and protective of our homeland.¡± ¡°You go on about equality and then compare yourself to a race like swans,¡± I say. ¡°What am I supposed to take away from that, Alex? Do you want to see Ruthenia dominate the others?¡± ¡°No, didn¡¯t you get anything that I said?¡± ¡°Do you get anything out of that blubbering bloody mouth of yours?¡± I remark. I let loose a sigh before it gets heated again. Alex relents too, relaxing her shoulders and her grip on the bar. ¡°There¡¯s so much we have to learn, the two of us, I guess.¡± And then abruptly adds. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I lashed out at you, Vicky.¡± ¡°What¡¯s bringing this about all of a sudden, love? It¡¯s just one topic after another with you.¡± ¡°I mean, we didn¡¯t see or contact each other for a whole year,¡± Alex said, a hint of sadness in her tone. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to meet on such bad terms like this, either.¡± ¡°Bad terms?¡± I say, not trying to hide a chuckle. ¡°I¡¯m at least glad you¡¯re alive.¡± Alexandra sighs in relief. Her shoulders sag. ¡°For now,¡± Alex says. That freezes me momentarily. ¡°You¡¯re aware of our operation to retake the Ishtar-Terra colonies, aren¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Yes¡­ as a matter of fact¡­¡± I relay what happened back there during my brief visit to the Trinidad. Alexandra remains in utter silence for the whole duration of it. Once I finish, I lean, using the railing as support to keep me upright. ¡°I¡¯ve done a bloody foolish thing, haven¡¯t I?¡± ¡°You¡¯re simply learning from your experience in Toscana, aren¡¯t you?¡± Alexandra muses. Leaning forward on the railing. ¡°And the Admiral openly expressed his approval of you for it, isn¡¯t that enough?¡± Looking back on it now, I wonder. ¡°Aren¡¯t I setting us up for another disaster?¡± ¡°What do you mean?¡± Alexandra asks. ¡°We¡¯re putting all our eggs in one basket¡­ there¡¯s no telling that Churchill chap will even be there. For all we know, it could be empty. They could gas the whole thing like a canister for all we know. And then there would be no real opposition to whatever plans they may have.¡± It does make me wonder though¡­ Why didn¡¯t they make a bigger wave when we were away in Toscana? Did they simply not know? ¡°No one knows for sure. The Admiral may adjust the operation as he sees fit, after all.¡± Alexandra remarks. Taking a deep moment, I turn to Alexandra, and she does the same after noticing. We stare at each other face-to-face, a grin born of awkwardness escapes her face. ¡°What is it, bloke?¡± Alexandra asks. ¡°I intend to serve with the ground invasion,¡± I finally let it out. My gaze falls to the floor. ¡°You what, mate?¡± Alexandra asks in that pitiful accent of hers. She really should drop it. It doesn¡¯t fit her in the slightest. I¡¯m more impressed that she doesn¡¯t walk around Ruthenia with it. She¡¯d get lynched in a heartbeat. She seems too self-conscious about it, though, so I can only afford a sly grin as I look her in the curious eyes again. ¡°I intend to serve in the initial waves of Operation Thunderbolt,¡± I answer. Alexandra turns away, clearing her throat. Her gaze returns to the calmness of the swans asserting dominance over the body of water. The white swans return to the sea in a show of force to the defenders. There is no immediate action between the two, just a constant saber-rattling. ¡°Have you gone insane?¡± Alexandra asks. I can¡¯t help but afford a melodramatic chuckle. ¡°Maybe I have?¡± This is the only appropriate answer I could suffice for. ¡°Based on what you told me so far, I wouldn¡¯t put it past every Aussie to feel like they need to one-up each other with fame and glory. Is that what you desire, Victoria?¡± The question hits me unexpectedly. ¡°Are you saying I¡¯m no better than Commodore Hugo? Diving headfirst into danger without regard to anything else?¡± An abrupt sharp pain from my left side makes me collapse to my knees with a crying gasp. I look up, and Alexandra has one fist out¡ªright where she struck me. The look of displeasure on her face as she looks down on me is valid enough as an answer. ¡°Is that where your ambitions lie?¡± She demands. ¡°I thought you and I were alike, Victoria. Maybe I am wrong. What purpose does being a death seeker follow your beliefs of a better tomorrow? Pathetic.¡± ¡°Alexandra, I¡­¡± I can¡¯t get the words out. It certainly knocked the wind out of me. I look down at the cement, grimacing as I try to get up. Vinnie offers her help, and I wobble onto the railing for support. ¡°Was that really¡­ necessary?¡± Alexandra blows hair out of her face, crossing her arms. ¡°Maybe it was? How would all the people who died for your sake answer if they heard you declare that like some sort of death-seeking buffoon? You could just die where you stand instead, it¡¯d be faster. Then you could apologize to all those you let down personally immediately. What would your good Friederika say about that, huh? Have you even told her yet?¡± ¡°I¡­¡± I lower my gaze, using the railing to stop me from slumping down again. I didn¡¯t tell her, not yet. But maybe she knows I will. I just have a hunch. And if she¡¯s here¡­ she¡¯s probably with Paul. Maybe they both arrived at the same conclusion by now, knowing Kiki, she won¡¯t keep a lid on it. As much of a lovable idiot as Kiki is, she¡¯s capable of thinking. ¡°What would your father think? Your mum?¡± Alexandra demands. ¡°What would that Paul fellow say?¡± I have no words. My fists ball before I realize it. ¡°What would all the people who believed in you during Toscana think? All those who died so that the rest would survive? Pathetic.¡± ¡°What am I supposed to do then? After that charade with all the top brass on the Trinidad, you expect me to just sit back and let me condemn all those poor soldiers to a meat grinder while I take all the credit?!¡± I try to stand up straight, toughing out the whack Alexandra inflicted on me. ¡°Could I live with myself any further by not participating than what I did in Toscana? They regard me as the Miracle Ensign, the Toscana Heroine¡­ all these embarrassing names! If it fails¡­¡± I grit my teeth, ¡°if this operation fails and a huge loss of life prevails yet again¡­ I would take all the blame for it. All the humiliation personally for me, for the rest of my life¡ªand that¡¯s if I live. If we succeed, I will forever live up to a reputation I could never¡­ in a million years owe up to. Don¡¯t you see, Alex? Either way, I¡¯m fucked! I shouldn¡¯t have lived¡­ things would be better if I died that¡ª¡° My vision blurs momentarily. When my senses come back, I realize I was smacked. I touch my cheek softly. ¡°Not even my old man hit me.¡± ¡°Honestly, truly, pathetic,¡± Alexandra says. ¡°Maybe that would¡¯ve done you better if he did.¡± Alexandra straights out her jacket, then her cuffs. ¡°Sorry, Vicky¡­ I was too irrational.¡± ¡°You¡¯re apologizing?¡± I ask, nearly gawking. ¡°I still hold you dearly as a friend¡ªa friendly rival.¡± ¡°Whatever do you mean?¡± I¡¯m just completely at a loss now. It truly is one thing or another with this woman. ¡°My anger got the best of me, that¡¯s all. Maybe you¡¯re right¡­ who knows,¡± a deep breath. ¡°There are things today I need to reflect on later. But for now¡­ it seems we have company.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± Alexandra turns partway from me to a group of people approaching us. ¡°Well, well, if it isn¡¯t the life of the party!¡± Alexandra says, flashing her sharp teeth. I look past her¡ªthen groan in disbelief. The troop of trouble I sort of don¡¯t want to see right now. I didn¡¯t notice that Vinnie left our side to greet them somewhere along the way. Kiki and Paul. Paul? I have to do a double-take. Paul? I can hardly even think. Prince might¡¯ve said off-handedly he would be here¡­ but I feel so unprepared for this moment. He looks¡­ handsome. It¡¯s not like the lanky, dorky, nerdy good-for-nothing that I saw back at Canberra Academy. Well¡­ not that I ever paid much attention to him in the first place. When I see him now, I just remember the nightmare before the hyper-jump to Valspon, before Lucky Alphonse began. I shake away the thoughts not wanting to remember it now. He looks¡­ built. But it¡¯s hard to tell beneath the uniform. He has broader shoulders, his hair isn¡¯t as big or curly. He looks like a made man. I can hardly believe my eyes. The only thing I can be certain of now is he¡¯s alive. Paul survived. He did survive the Hualian crashing into the Jaguar during the Toscana disaster, and for that, I can hardly keep myself together. Uncharacteristically, Alexandra stiffens up. Her gaze lies somewhere else, beyond the trio that approached us. ¡°I have something to attend to,¡± she turns to me with a smirk, showing off those creepy sharp teeth of hers. ¡°I¡¯ll let you catch up,¡± without letting me get a word in, she strides off past us three, but reels once she reaches the curb. ¡°Victoria!¡± She declares, one hand on the hip and the other pointing at me. ¡°This may be the first and last time we see each other as friends. In the future¡­ things may not be so simple as they are now.¡± ¡°M-ma¡¯am?¡± Vinnie stammers, rushing away from the confused two towards her mistress. ¡°Do you wish for me to escort you?¡± She glances past Alexandra at the busy crowd behind her, but judging from her movement she can¡¯t make heads or tails of what attracted Alexandra¡¯s abrupt attention. Alexandra glares at her for what feels like forever. ¡°If you so wish, it doesn¡¯t concern me either way.¡± ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am!¡± And just like that, the two scurry across the street. Just as she comes into my life, she vanishes. The first and last time we may see each other as friends? That¡¯s absurd! But a feeling in my gut tells me something is going on back home in Ruthenia that demands her immediate attention, whatever it is¡­ ¡°Oi, chum, earth to Vicky!¡± Friederika¡¯s cheerfulness whips me back to reality. She stands before me alongside Paul. I have to actively avoid eye contact with him; my heart flutters every time I see him now. ¡°I see¡­ you have been chummy without me,¡± I say trying to laugh it off. I need some amusement now that the conversation with Alexandra is out of the way. ¡°Victoria¡­ it¡¯s been a while, hasn¡¯t it?¡± Paul says. Even his voice makes me nervous. I clutch my chest, trying hard not to remember that horrific nightmare during the Toscana hyperjump. Should I tell Paul about it later¡­? ¡°What¡¯s wrong? You look like you saw a ghost or something!¡± Friederika says, jabbing me in the chest. She may not know it, but she¡¯s awfully on the mark. I can¡¯t bring myself to even bring it up. ¡°It¡¯s no good, Friederika,¡± Paul says. He glances back at Alexandra¡ªunable to find her. Whatever business she has is urgent to leave in a flash. ¡°What¡¯d that gal say?¡± ¡°Alex? Oh.¡± I sputter. Trying to to regain composure. ¡°Never mind that I can tell you another time. We just had¡­ er, a lot of catching up to do.¡± ¡°It¡¯s just one catching up after another, innit?¡± Paul says with a smile. I force myself to divert my gaze. Friederika and Paul can¡¯t help but chuckle. ¡°You know¡­¡± Friederika twirls her hair. ¡°This is probably just as sudden, but I think I should leave you two alone. Paul is right, the two of you have a lot to catch up on, right?¡± She shoots me an evil glare. What the hell are you setting me up for? I want to scream at her. What the hell was I thinking, leaving these two alone together?! For the love of God¡­ ¡°Are you sure? I¡¯m sure the three of us could make for a merry couple.¡± Paul says, gleaming with a smile. Friederika and I lock eyes. She hides her arms behind her back. For some reason, this strikes me as unusual Friederika behavior. ¡°No, um¡­¡± she takes a deep breath, ¡°I figured you would understand, Paul, I¡¯d rather leave you alone for now. You deserve this.¡± Huh? This is awfully out of character for Friederika. Am I to take a hint here? Is that it? Paul, on the other hand, is probably on the same wavelength as her. He shrugs. ¡°Suit yourself, suppose we meet up here again then? Just remember the hotel and coffee shop across the street, I guess.¡± ¡°Sounds like a plan,¡± Friederika takes a few steps away, and waves¡ªa sad glance at me before she departs. And now it¡¯s just Paul and I. The awkward silence that befalls us lingers for a long time as we watch in unison as both parties of swans depart from the scene. It¡¯s peaceful again¡ªbut I can¡¯t help but have an inner fight with the butterflies in my chest, neither can I bring myself to glance at Paul. My cheeks burn red, and I turn my head so he can¡¯t see my embarrassment. Why does it have to be Paul? Curse you, Friederika! But for some reason, I feel relieved¡­ happy even. That Paul is alive. That this isn¡¯t a dream. That this isn¡¯t the nightmare I experienced with him. I turn to face him¡ªbeing caught off-guard that he must¡¯ve been watching me out of the corner of his eye since he turns at nearly the same time. He¡¯s only a few paces away, but still¡­ ¡°Um¡­¡± he breaks the silence, scratching his head. ¡°Care for a walk? Maybe we can find a nice place to sit down and walk, er¡­¡± Well, he¡¯s just as awkward as the few instances where I did acknowledge his existence. That thought alone tugs at my guilt strings. After all this time¡ªafter all the Academy shenanigans and the incident with Toscana and the Hualian, I never gave Paul the time of day. Just what was that nightmare trying to convey to me? I shove all the negative thoughts away for now. ¡°I¡¯d be happy to, Paul,¡± I answer. And the two of us walk along the golden stroked path railing. Chapter 108: Embers of Ishtar | The Sprout of Life Yet Still Withers, Part 6 Before I know it, twilight looms over Terrassa. But I don¡¯t mind. It¡¯s a breath of fresh air walking with Paul like this. Just the two of us. In a way, I¡¯m glad Friederika opted out of joining us. It would¡¯ve been a little too awkward and I never was good with third wheels in a party like this. Maybe that¡¯s why I always ignored Paul in the past. Every day since I first met him in primary school. At Canberra, and so on. I glance at Paul, darting back to the body of water to my right whenever his emerald eyes meet mine. It only happens a few times; deep down I eagerly hope it happens more. I wish he would act on it and embrace me. But it never happens. Just a nice little stride between estranged friends, a one-sided relationship that has smoldered to nothingness the past three or so years. ¡°It¡¯s nice scenery, isn¡¯t it?¡± I say. ¡°this golden-bronze view.¡± Paul merely glances at me with a smile. ¡°Compared to you?¡± Paul says. ¡°It¡¯s nothing.¡± Neither of us says any further beyond that. The railing stops, giving away to a gently sloped riverbank that descends and meets with the artificial body of water. Behind us, a wealth of blossom trees stand tall and proud over this quiet little riverbank. ¡°Care for a rest, love?¡± I ask, gesturing to a spot on the riverbank. ¡°I¡¯ve been walking all day and my feet are dying.¡± Paul agrees, and we both sit down relatively close to the artificial riverbank. I find myself taken back by the cool, calming bronze-like surface of the river before us. Not a disturbance to be had. I feel more relaxed now than before. A part of me wishes I could simply retire here and forget about all the complicated Federation affairs. But that is why I can¡¯t retire just yet. I have to fight to keep this peaceful life for others. Nothing on Terra could ever come close to this. But maybe it¡¯s simply because I¡¯ve been so far removed from society that I lost touch with what it means to live in peaceful bliss. ¡°This sort of takes me back a little,¡± Paul says. ¡°Does it now? Oh.¡± ¡°Figured you remembered all those silly days we had together then, eh?¡± ¡°Silly days, you say,¡± I say. ¡°Yeah¡­ it was something like that. Running after each other after school from the arcade, wanting to forget all the homework and just live as ourselves.¡± ¡°And yet here we are,¡± Paul says. Glancing out at the calm river and the opposite bank. ¡°Vick¡­¡± ¡°What is it, darling?¡± I ask, shifting my legs around to support my elbow. Paul looks me square in the eyes¡ªbut I can¡¯t bring myself to look away. It never occurs to me that I¡¯m smiling naturally for once. Paul is silent for a few moments now, giving him the chance to have his say. I shove the intrusive thoughts away that I never gave him as much as a word in years ago. ¡°Sorry, hmm, ha-ha!¡± Paul forces out a chuckle. He leans back, Paul refraining with all his energy to frown. His gaze is on the artificial light as well as the Side closing its solar panels. It occurs to me that Yuri has likely departed for now with all this time spent. But it¡¯s time well spent. If it¡¯s with Paul and Friederika¡­ I don¡¯t mind the extra effort to return to the Yilan. The Yilan, huh? There¡¯s likely not a chance I¡¯ll ever even return the Yilan. I¡¯ll never see Margot, or Lucas, or Friederika¡­ ¡°You ever wonder what life would be like if we didn¡¯t enlist in the Navy?¡± Paul asks after the lull in silence. It catches me off guard, a little I¡¯d admit. But I hide it by grinning and brushing my hair. ¡°That¡¯s all you wanted to say?¡± I ask. The uncertainty of whether I should tell him about the nightmare during the warp to Toscana weighs on my mind. Who knows what Paul may do with the revelation? Maybe it¡¯s something I should take to the grave with me¡­ and I never told Friederika about it, either. ¡°I was expecting something more¡­¡± I trail off, looking into the calming water as my thoughts whisk me away. Paul doesn¡¯t know. Or does he? It strikes me that these two individuals I took as numbskulls for all my life would silently acknowledge what I have in mind for the upcoming operation. ¡°My life without the military?¡± I muse. ¡°Far back as I remember, I wanted to follow my old man into space. I wanted to be in space with him because he was always up there when I was small.¡± ¡°I remember,¡± Paul says. ¡°We had a career plan questionnaire in the third grade.¡± ¡°I¡¯m embarrassed you would even remember that,¡± I say, trying to hide my cheeks with golden locks of hair. How far back did this numbskull fall for a carefree girl like me?! Paul can¡¯t contain his laughter. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever seen you flushed like that before.¡± ¡°Oh, put a bloody cap on it you wanker,¡± I mumble to Paul¡¯s amusement. Do I have any choice now? I lock eyes with Paul, with those charming emerald eyes of his. He smiles, trying his hardest to be avoidant about the sudden attention. ¡°What were you hoping I would do, military notwithstanding?¡± I ask. ¡°University, or something like that?¡± Paul muses. Leaning back onto the grassy riverbank, arms lazily resting behind his head. ¡°Your other goal in life was being a historian or something like that, right?¡± ¡°I¡¯m a little shocked and creeped out that you even know or remember that. Should I ask for a restraining order against you?¡± ¡°Friederika told me a few times,¡± Paul says, huffing the bangs of hair in his face. I reach out, snatching the thick glasses clean off his face. ¡°Hey! What¡¯s the big idea?!¡± I twirl them in my hand, slowly, and gently. ¡°It was never a real aspiration,¡± I say. ¡°But maybe it¡¯s what I was destined to do?¡± Paul doesn¡¯t interject, so I continue. ¡°Maybe it was my fate to be on the Yilan at that specific day on that specific time.¡± ¡°Vick¡­¡± If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. ¡°Who knows if a more capable officer was capable of keeping the fleet alive? We could¡¯ve killed the Scarface. We could¡¯ve easily crushed their capital and encircled them at Rouen. Maybe fewer people would¡¯ve died.¡± I get up, dusting my bum as I do so. I turn to face the puzzled Paul. He quickly scrambles to his feet, not bothering to reach for his pair of glasses. ¡°Paul¡­¡± I mutter. ¡°You know, you look handsome as a button without these thick-rimmed glasses.¡± The excitement I get from Paul being embarrassed swells my heart. But I have to pop it. For my sake, and his. ¡°Paul,¡± I say, gently closing and cupping the glasses. ¡°Back then¡­ during the jump to the Valspon system, I had a nightmare. Every night since then I dreamt of it. It involved you.¡± ¡°It was just a dream, wasn¡¯t it?¡± Paul asks, reasonably baffled. ¡°Who¡¯s to say?¡± I turn to face the lake. ¡°It felt so real¡­ I never lucid dreamed before, it would be an understatement to say it was surreal.¡± ¡°Well?¡± ¡°Stop cutting me off, you bloody bloke! I¡¯m getting there.¡± I take a deep breath. ¡°We were together on a beach, and you talked like we left the military life behind us and that we got together. I didn¡¯t know what to make of it then, and I still don¡¯t know.¡± I turn to face the man. ¡°You¡­¡± I struggle to get the words out, clearing my throat. ¡°You died, Paul. All your fabric and being literally melted before my very eyes. And before I knew it, I was in an inferno with your charred skeleton. Then the nightmare ended and Lucky Alphonse began.¡± Paul takes a moment to take it all in. He slumps to his bum on the grassy bedside. I kneel next to him, cupping his chin with one hand and slipping his glasses with the other. ¡°Your hands are bloody cold,¡± Paul says. ¡°I was expecting you to say I¡¯m a cold cunt.¡± The two of us try to chuckle it off. I look into his eyes, wondering if I should tell him about the bizarre nightmare with Friederika¡ªthe one where I died and he presumably got together with her. ¡°Paul, I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°Huh?¡± ¡°I never¡­ I never gave you the time of day.¡± I return to my feet, glancing out at the increasingly bronze cityscape. ¡°I gave you cold shoulders at every turn. And yet you continued to chase after a hopeless girl like me. Even to the depths of hell, following me into the fleet when there was no guarantee we¡¯d even see each other ever again.¡± ¡°Victoria, what are you bloody on about?¡± I turn to face him. I clench my fists, unable to just come out with it. With a deep breath, I head up the hill, Paul calls out to me, but I ignore him. The pain swells with every step. But he clasps my hand. I stop in my tracks, turning to face him slowly. ¡°We¡­ we can talk about this, I¡¯m not too sure what¡¯s going on¡ªVick!¡± ¡°Paul,¡± I say, clearing my throat. I bite my lower lip, turning to face him fully. Cupping my other hand over his. ¡°Did Friederika tell you what happened earlier? She must¡¯ve told you what happened when the two of us went to the Trinidad.¡± Paul¡¯s eyes widen. That must¡¯ve got him thinking. He shakes his head, perhaps in denial. He tries to form words that don¡¯t come out. He copes and argues internally. He shakes his head, one last time, squeezing my hand in return. It shouldn¡¯t take a genius to realize what I want to do. ¡°You¡¯re a bloody maniac, Vick,¡± Paul says, grabbing me by the shoulders¡ªit nearly startles me. ¡°You damn well didn¡¯t sign up for this.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t sign up to live and let others die while I sit back living comfortably,¡± I answer. Paul lowers his hands and I step forward, embracing him lightly. ¡°Paul¡­ if I don¡¯t come back, I want you to live happily ever after with Friederika.¡± I squeeze him tightly. ¡°I don¡¯t want the two of you to suffer and die alone. I mean that.¡± ¡°How can you say something like that now?¡± Paul says, trying to remain composed. ¡°I want to be with you, not Friederika.¡± ¡°Do it for me, will you?¡± I say. Pulling back to brush tears out of his defeated eyes. ¡°Live happily and have lots of kids for me.¡± ¡°You should save that for when you actually depart,¡± Paul says, trying to force a smile. ¡°What will you do if they reject your transfer?¡± Then suddenly, he adds. ¡°What will you do if you survive?¡± ¡°Then,¡± I try in vain to hide a blush, ¡°I guess I¡¯d just have to live with my consequence, won¡¯t I?¡± ¡°Did¡­ you ever tell Friederika directly?¡± Paul asks. ¡°Well, I won¡¯t lie when I say I figured you two would¡¯ve already concluded with your one shared brain cell by now.¡± ¡°I wish you would give me and Friederika some credit.¡± ¡°No can do,¡± I say wryly. Without warning, I lean in, pressing his lips to mine. For a few moments of grace, Paul wraps his arms around me. I can feel his heart pounding in perfect rhythm with mine. ¡°Believe it or not, Friederika adores you a lot,¡± I say softly, pushing myself away. ¡°If you tell her, I¡¯ll kill you. And even if I die, I¡¯ll haunt you to the ends of the galaxy.¡± ¡°That¡¯s a threat if I ever heard one,¡± we laugh off the morbidity of the moment. ¡°It¡¯s getting dark, Vick¡­ should we head back?¡± ¡°Not yet,¡± I answer. ¡°I think¡­ I want to stay here by your side for a little longer.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll be keeping Friederika waiting, you know¡­¡± I pause to think. He is right. Friederika getting stood up by her two closest friends is not something I want to think about. ¡°No¡­ it¡¯s fine, I think she¡¯ll come to understand. She let us have this much time to ourselves, after all.¡± Paul clears his throat. He breathes in heavily and cuts loose a heavier sigh. The two of us sink side-by-side onto the sloped grassy riverbank¡ªour knees touching. I rest my head on his shoulder. I slip my nearest hand onto his and casually lock fingers with him. ¡°This feels wrong, Vick,¡± Paul says, struggling to get the words out. ¡°This isn¡¯t¡­ right.¡± I don¡¯t answer. I don¡¯t answer because he¡¯s right. The girl of his dreams comes up to him and confesses she¡¯s going to fight in a battle that she was never meant to be in the first place¡ªand he¡¯ll never see her ever again. It¡¯s wrenching, but how else could I live with myself? ¡°I¡¯m sorry I wronged you all these years,¡± I say quietly. ¡°I never gave you attention, I never¡­¡± I struggle to find my voice. Paul reaches for my other shoulder and rubs it lightly. ¡°Just hearing your voice and face again is enough for me,¡± Paul says. ¡°Maybe¡­ deep down I never knew I had a chance with you.¡± I clear the growing lump in my throat, leaning more onto his shoulder. A lonesome tear strolls down and falls on his jacket. He slips his hand free of my interlocked grip and holds my chin up. ¡°Even in those few moments when you did look at me, it made me happy,¡± Paul says. My cheeks burn red as Paul rubs them. ¡°That I occupied at least a little of your mind from time to mind.¡± ¡°You¡¯re speaking absolute nonsense,¡± I say, struggling to keep a smile. My heart cracks with each word. ¡°I have the most absurd gal in the galaxy in my arms, there couldn¡¯t be anything more nonsensical than that,¡± he remarks. I merely refute with a precision jab at his side. Paul lets out a pained chuckle. ¡°I wish we could experience this moment forever,¡± Paul continues, quieter this time. ¡°A moment cherished as a memory.¡± I hold him tighter. ¡°Free of worry, and just run away from all our problems.¡± I bite my lower lip. Could my dream be stemming from this, I wonder? I will never know for certain¡ªneither of us will. Which one of my dreams is real¡ªwhich one is false? ¡°Vick¡ªyou¡¯re squeezing me to death.¡± ¡°Oh!¡± I exclaim, letting go and pushing myself away from Paul. The lad can¡¯t help but chuckle. For someone who¡¯s probably about to lose his angel, he sure is cheery. Not that I could blame him in the slightest. It¡¯s dark now. I already miss the golden river and the charming grass. Now it¡¯s just pitiful. Twilight has come to consume us at last. I wish I could simply reach out and push it away¡ªif only to selfishly make this moment last longer. Paul gets up before I do and extends a hand. I take it, perhaps begrudgingly. With one last view of the riverbank, Paul and I walk back from where we came. Neither of us says a word as we pass first the railing, then the strobes of antique lamps dotting the path ahead. If only things could¡¯ve turned out differently, I muse on the way back. With a heavy bleeding heart: the future of the Cosmic Saga. I can''t write the rest of the story. At least not in the first person perspective I''ve been doing for so long. There is no real ending to speak of, in all honestly, it was too close to LotGH. If you read or watched it you probably know precisely what I''m talking about with the protagonists. 4-5 years ago before I started writing the very first draft. If there''s any veteran readers still from around then, it was, in the words of a former acquaintance of mine: super dry, like a codex and no characters to speak of that you could feel attached or feel for. It was those chapters that I hastily and embarrassingly replaced with Memories of Toscana chapters. I was 24 or 25, fresh off the heels of my enthusiasm for LotGH: I was going to write the American LotGH, or something of that nature. There are alternative endings I considered to shake off the "lotgh fanfic" stigma, though. I was stubborn and marched on like a conqueror despite the glaring errors of the beginning, not once looking back at all the threads and inconsistencies I left behind. But now I''m here, slumping off the horse and realizing the errors I''ve made. I''m on the footsteps of 29 now. I''m at the age where I was supposed to originally write a 28-29 year old disenfranchised, disillusioned Victoria being yanked from retirement. I couldn''t write a 17 whiny little Victoria at this point. I''m too broken and wracked by anxiety now. I did too many monumental things wrong with the story. Just the fact that I didn''t actually put the second draft(what this story comprises of) and didn''t bother to clean up ch0-9 or really any chapter up to the Li welcoming party chapters. Back then I was so proud of those chapters, but I think my maturity outpaced the story after it. And the entire story suffers as a result. Then there''s the issue of me making the scope bigger and bigger, more words to write, more monologue to flow, characters abrutly introduced and more politics within poltiics... and I just couldn''t keep that going anymore after 4 years. I was completely and utterly burnt out by the time I soft-wrapped up Li''s story. I wanted to keep this concise but I got carried away. it pains me I''m more accustomed to writing walls of text when it''s not my story, haha. I kept this bottled up for so long, and maybe in the end I was lying to myself. The imposter syndrome won in the end. I was and am a thoroughly hack writer. It''s not easy to write this out after so long. it was a mistake to write in first person tense. it was also a mistake to write by the seats of my pants, it made the pacing suffer catastrophically everywhere in the story. By the time Li and Brutus were in the shuttle talking about Ishtar-Terra I was frantically trying to drum up how I''d write Embers of Ishtar. In the end the planning was too little too late. After I watched Dune, the whole Shields struck me like a thunderbolt: I needed to include that to evolve the story... to make it exciting. Maybe this is the attribute I needed to get the story moving and feel refreshing? Frankly, I have no idea how I''d write guns and shooting. I didn''t know where Victoria would be situated in the first place. Where would her role be in the invasion? How could I can her actions interesting? Mind you, Victoria is still a junior officer, she could barely manage a platoon or the elements of a battalion, I don''t know. Even these days I still struggle with that one. Then I watched the 1997 Berserk and the fears of how do I write a melee-oriented sci-fi space opera? How would soldiers get ahold of these shield devices? How did the Ishtar legionnaires even make them? How much do they have how much should I focus on guns or last hurrah like tank battles in the colony? Things like that. On top of where the hell is Victoria in all of this? The biggest takeaway after watching Berserk especially was how do I make Victoria kill and depict it realistically? Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. I don''t have much experience with guns, only games rather they be VR or not. I''ve never killed, I''ve never witnessed someone close to me tragically dying in the same vein. I never got my hands bloodied: I couldn''t make Victoria kill in hand to hand mortal combat, much less how the hell do I depict guns and melee in this setting? I couldn''t live through her head doing that. And the "ending" I had in concept was just the icing on the cake: how do you, as the "villain" Jothanton, tell a battered, shocked 17-year old you''re simply a pawn in the bigger grand scheme of things and they''ll do to me what they did to you? Etc. It was just a poor man''s attempt at Metal Gear Solid shenanigans, that''s where I think a lot of influence going to play in the last volume. That sort of ending was going to rub people the wrong way because it''s preachy and political and we have so much damning stuff going on in real-life; remember the Preamble chapter with the lengthy dismissal of pure coincidence over the Russian events? Yeah, there''s no way I could refrain from "copying" real-life contemporary actions and not face scrutiny or outright getting banned from the site. I guess really that was my biggest contributing fear: There''s no way I could butt heads with Royalroad or even Spacebattles moderators over Victoria killing in first-person. There''s just no way and it probably wouldn''t end well. The final scene was too graphic and I wouldn''t budge from revisiting it for the sake of self-censorship. I won''t go into details what it was exactly, many years from now when I''m in a better footing you''ll see what I mean. Well... with that all out of the way. What now? Am I going to delete this? Am I going to write anything else? Well, first of all, I know I probably lost pretty much all creditability after this. No one who''s read this or sees the ''dropped'' tag will probably not want to read any other fiction by the author, that''s only natural. I did consider deleting this, but recently I was informed my webnovel was stolen and put on Amazon, luckily that was resolved within a day. But what''s to say it won''t happen again? I''m not too sure why someone would want to rip a shitty story like this for a quick buck, you''d probably get more money out of your mileage working a dead-end job like me. So I won''t, since I''ll need that as insurance in case it''s attempted again, but I''ll probably delete them on Scribblehub and spacebattles. I want to remake this, properly, in third-person past tense. And most likely not serialized... just so I can actually sleep better at night and not be haunted every single day over the story. At the same time, my rekindling for medieval and antique settings makes me yearn to write a setting in that. I hated fantasy so much unless it was down to earth like mount and blade. Berserk enamored me with its setting. After the 1st ep I forgot it even had monsters, and the little twist in the dungeon made me appreciate dark fantasy in a way: I particularly loved how exceedingly rare it is for fantasy settings to explore the beginning of a demon invasion and people''s reactions to them. That''s fantastic. On another note, I just finished playing Rome2 recently with the epic DEI mod and I feel bursting at the seams to make a medieval setting story, a hint of magic that may be just now emerging or on the throes of extinction. Maybe it might fare well better here? Like with nearly all my stories I''d done, they usually include a lot of similar names in terms of characters, places, and etc. Fun fact, Cosmic Saga was originally going to be more like LotGH meets Gundam. There was strong hints to that in Victoria''s oxygen-deprived hallucinogenic glimpses of the future with the two machines shooting rays at eachother. If that sounds vaguely similar it''s because it was ripped straight from a certain sequence from Gundam Unicorn. On the subject of gundam and space colonies, Australia was going to get colony dropped but it was going to happen off-screen and gets passing mentions in the sequel novel after The Last Waltz. Oops! But ah, right, the Cosmic Saga. I don''t want all my hard work and effort to go to waste: Maybe it''ll show up here better polished and easier to digest-on a new fiction page of course. After all, why would I want to finish this ugly duckling, then write the Last Waltz volume (that covers Ishtar-Terra itself) then rewrite it all in a different narrative? That could get ugly and add more years to the "ill probably get around to it" list. Maybe I will stop writing completely. Who knows? I try to tell myself it''s not a big deal at the end of the day, there''s literally hundreds of thousands of stories much better than this. So... if you''re still willing to stick around, you could click that follow button if/when I upload a new fiction. Like a stranded astronaut sending out a distress signal, maybe it will get answered... one day. Will anyone answer it? Will the Cosmic Saga ever really get proper closure? Well any of my stories get closure? Who knows. So long space cowboys. I hope one day I can grace you with my words again.