Chapter 3: Into the Storm

Chapter 3: Into the Storm

CHAPTER 3

INTO THE STORM

Since he was used to a small barracks room and the supercarrier’s cramped beds, this room struck him as spacious. Being on land left him restless, even, and unable to fall asleep. As the son of the Open Sea clans’ leader—the fleet commander’s “child,” Ishmael had spent his life aboard the deck of a ship since his youth. Standing on solid ground that didn’t waver under his feet felt outright strange to him.

So when his communication terminal’s alarm rang before it was even morning, he’d responded to it groggily, half-awake.

“…Yeah,” he answered the call with a hoarse voice.

“Brother. My apologies for calling you so early in the morning.”

“Esther.”

In the Orphan Fleet, the fleet commander was seen as a mother or father to the rest of the fleet. The ship captains saw one another as siblings, and the several thousand crew members saw one another as younger siblings.

In the Open Sea clans, everyone viewed the seniors of the family as parents of sorts, with the newborn children as the collective children of the clan. Each family, each city had its own ship, forming one clan in the Open Sea fleet. That custom had passed down to the Orphan Fleet, forming this peculiar and distinctive way of referring to the officers.

Ishmael came from a different Open Sea clan than Esther, so strictly speaking, they weren’t “siblings.” But since they’d each lost the clans they belonged to and chosen to organize the patchwork Orphan Fleet, she could still call him her brother.

A captain who had lost his entire clan except for the supercarrier, and a lieutenant who had lost her vessel and the majority of her clan.

Many of the “younger siblings” serving under them had much the same circumstances. The Orphan Fleet consisted of the last survivors of the eleven Open Sea clans, made up of a hodgepodge of birthplaces, clans, and even vessels. They each carried loss and grief, and so they nestled and clung together.

A patchwork, orphaned fleet.

The fleet commander shared his fate with each and every crew member. And perhaps, as a father might, he sacrificed his life to allow his subordinates to escape. That was why the Orphan Fleet didn’t have a fleet commander. The captain of the flagship and supercarrier was seen as the eldest sibling and the fleet commander’s last remaining heir. It was his right to inherit the role of fleet commander.

But that didn’t sit well with Ishmael, for whatever reason.

“The storm approaches. At long last.”

“Yes.”

At long last, indeed.

In the dead of night, the supercarrier Stella Maris left its port.

Thankfully, it was a new moon, and with nothing to illuminate the night save the starlight, the darkness was all-encompassing. And so it set sail, hidden within the storm. A covert departure. Radio silence was in place, and the ship’s lights were out.

Despite the darkness, some of the Eighty-Six still rose to the deck to look around. The Stella Maris’s crew was all busy, fulfilling their appointed roles now that the ship had left the port. As such, the Processors—who could, if one were to take logic far enough, be seen as baggage being delivered—were left with nothing to do.

They weren’t allowed to bring any lights, and they were warned by the crew to stay away from the side of the ship, as they might fall overboard. A few of the Eighty-Six put distance between them and the deck, looking back at the shore as it grew distant.

A late-night departure, at a time when people would usually be asleep. But as the rocky shoreline faded away, the people of the port town stood gathered there. They didn’t have any lights on them so as to avoid detection. And it wasn’t just adults; children were there, held by the hand or carried in the arms of their parents. They said nothing, simply waving at them.

A covert departure. The Stella Maris’s horn did not blare out. But even so, the people gathered, waving their hands as they looked on.

The sight of it left an odd, yet vivid impression.

Since nights were short in high-latitude regions during the summer, the Orphan Fleet’s vessels had to depart their respective ports the night prior if they were to approach the target under the cover of darkness.

They weren’t heading northwest, toward the Mirage Spire, but rather to a gathering spot in the Flightfeather archipelago, which was directly north of them. It was a collection of small, rocky islands that only the seabirds could live in. They hid among the jagged rocks, which had been eaten away at by the seawater, for a day as they waited for the operation to begin.

Standing at the top floor of the Stella Maris’s bridge, which was called the signal bridge, Lena looked around curiously. They were about to begin a day of waiting. They had to remain as silent as possible so as to avoid detection, but she was used to that, so that wasn’t a problem.

The supercarrier was built for voyages that could last as long as six months, and so it had a chapel and a library. Ishmael said they were free to make use of them while waiting, as well as look around the signal bridge.

Hearing a pair of legs nimbly climbing the stairs, Lena turned around, only to find Esther peering at her.

“Colonel Milizé, would you like to go down to the deck? You’ll be able to see something quite interesting there.”

“The deck? No, I…”

She felt uncomfortable refusing Esther’s and the other crew’s offers, but she’d decided not to see the sea until the war ended. But as she looked down, she suddenly came to a realization as she noticed a dark, blue light. She wanted to see the sea after all. Her curiosity was tugging at her heart.

Forcibly turning away, she lifted her head. After all, they had promised they would see it together once the war ended.

At the crew’s beckoning, Anju and Dustin came up to the deck, but after laying eyes on it, they gasped in disbelief. The dark sea shone like starlight, as if reflecting the black sky above.

“Wow…”

“The waves are…glistening…”

The dark velvety waters let out faint, blue specks of illusory light, as if stardust or a flock of fireflies had been scattered over the sea. Especially the silently undulating, crashing waves. Each time the waves broke against the rocks or the ship’s broadside, they left behind a faint, blue, glowing trail.

The crew members who brought them over said this was the work of noctilucas—phosphorescent animalcules. The two of them wordlessly watched the blue, heatless rays of light. There were other figures walking among the flight deck. Apparently, the ship’s crew had called over some of the other Processors.

“It’s pretty… So pretty, I almost feel bad I can’t raise my voice to praise it.”

“We are on the battlefield here, after all… I’d love to come and see this again once the war ends.”

At those words, Anju stiffened. Dustin didn’t know about the information Zelene gave them, of course. He simply said this as part of a groundless, vague wish. A desire for the war to end, so they could live in peace.

“Dustin, will…?”

She still couldn’t quite imagine what that would be like. But what about Dustin? Filled with indignation at the Republic’s actions, he’d left the Republic to atone for its sins. What would he do if that battlefield were to disappear?

“Will you go back to the Republic once the war ends?”

“…Probably. They need people to help with the reconstruction efforts. Except…”

Anju watched his conflicted face. If you’re against it, I won’t go back. Dustin wasn’t sure if he should finish that sentence. And she wasn’t sure if pointing out that she realized his uncertainty was the right thing to do, either. She wasn’t sure how she’d answer if he’d ask her, but was this something she could poke fun at him over…?

She was standing at Dustin’s side. Not as close as she’d stood with Daiya, but…certainly closer than she’d stood next to Dustin at first. And so Anju was overcome by an odd sense of distance—the kind that was awkward, and yet somehow comforting in its own way.

The flight deck, meant for the takeoff and landing of the ship’s planes, wasn’t set with a railing or a fence. Seated at that sector of the ship, which had nothing to obstruct his field of vision, was Theo. Next to him was Kurena, who was leaning forward like a curious kitten.

“…Well, I guess that’s a blue sea in its own way.”

“Yeah…!”

The southern sea. Let’s go there together when the war ends.

A year ago, the first time they went charging through enemy lines in pursuit of the Morpho, Kurena had said those words. And now her eyes were glittering as she beheld the blue glow on the water.

Like the stardust above them, it was dazzling but didn’t really pierce the darkness. It was just an illusory blue radiance. Like bubbles of faint light, barely beneath the undulating waves. The darkness of the night didn’t obscure it, instead making it more conspicuous.

Looking at the water filled Theo with a sense of dread, like something might rise from those dark depths, and the words escaped his lips before he could stop himself.

“We really ended up making it…to the ocean.”

“Ended up making it?” Kurena said with a smile. “You make it sound like you didn’t want to come.”

“Mm… It feels…too soon.”

He didn’t want to tell Shin, Raiden, or Lena. This was something he could only say because he was speaking to Kurena.

“I thought we’d come see it after everything was settled,” Theo continued. “When I figured out what I wanna be…where I wanna go…”

“…There’s no rush to figure those things out. Don’t force yourself,” Kurena said.

Contrary to her words, she hugged her knees like a lonely child.

“We’re friends. We’re comrades. And that’s never gonna change… Lieutenant Esther told me that. So we’ll be fine.”

No matter what happened, the bond of the Eighty-Six’s shared way of life would never break.

“You think?”

Esther, Ishmael…the descendants of the Open Sea clans they met in this land. They were similar to them. They’d lost their homelands and families to the ravages of war but still chose to live their lives with pride.

“…Yeah. Maybe that’s right.”

He was happy he got to meet them. He was glad he came to this country. He was able to meet people who had lost everything and, when left with naught but their pride, chose to face each new day with a smile. As long as they had solidarity, they would always find a reason to live on.

And if they could do it, then so could the Eighty-Six.

“I think I was a little stressed out about all sorts of things, but… Yeah, you’re right. We’ll be okay.”

Above him was a night sky, lined with stardust. Just like the Eighty-Sixth Sector, with its nights bereft of artificial light. And beneath him was the sea, filled with transient blue fireflies.

Back in the Eighty-Sixth Sector, he’d look up at those stars without a hint of emotion. But now, two years later, they made him feel a bit forlorn. Both the Eighty-Sixth Sector and this vast ocean, detached as it was from land, weren’t part of the human world. And oddly enough, that sense of desolation presently weighed on his heart.

He couldn’t see a glimpse of Lena’s long, silver hair on this vast, three-hundred-meter-long flight deck. He’d considered inviting her, but Vika told him she’d decided not to see the ocean until the war ended. In a way, it was her answer to his own offer to show her the sea.

He wasn’t unhappy about that… But he was dying to know her other answer.

Just then, he’d caught a glimpse of Ishmael’s back near the ship’s bow. He was kneeling on the deck, apparently not having noticed Shin. He seemed to be…kissing the flight deck, with the dignity and gratitude of kissing one’s aged mother.

“…?”

A small sense of curiosity, akin to doubt, washed over Shin. What was Ishmael doing?

But upon hearing Frederica call his name, Shin turned around and promptly forgot about it.

“9th Mishia Fleet to 8th Arche Fleet. Confirming arrival at operation start line. Commencing attack. ”

The following day. Two diversion fleets departed their home fleet, sailing in a straight line directly into the Legion territories’ shores before changing course. Each fleet drew an arc, making way toward the Mirage Spire base, and were now on the verge of entering the enemy’s bombardment range.

“Roger that. Saint Elmo’s blessing be upon you.”

The Orphan Fleet entered radio silence. Esther silently returned that prayer, knowing it wouldn’t reach them.

Outside was their second night at sea, with only a few faint specks of starlight glittering through the curtain of storm clouds. The captain, her “older brother,” was presently resting in preparation for the start of the operation. She was currently standing in for him on the integrated bridge.

“A directive to all ships in the Orphan Fleet. Prepare to sally forth. As soon as either diversion fleet enters combat, we set sail for the Mirage Spire.”

“Aye, ma’am. What about Brother?”

“He can still rest. He must be in prime condition for when the fleet enters combat so that he can see it through to its conclusion.”

“8th Arche Fleet to 9th Mishia Fleet. Decoy No. 5 confirmed lost— Opening combat. ”

The two decoy fleets entered combat, and under the veil of their distraction, the Orphan Fleet sailed in the darkness of the night. In its residential block, Lena had changed in preparation for their arrival in the operation zone within a few hours. She peeked out of her room’s entrance, confirming no one else was in the corridor outside her cabin…

…because she had changed out of her normal outfit and into the Cicada.

It was her third time having it on, but that didn’t mean she was used to wearing it. And while she’d had a…less formfitting uniform prepared for her after she returned from the United Kingdom, she had forgotten to take it along.

So she was quite unwilling to stand in front of the Stella Maris’s crew in this outfit, which outlined every curve and contour of her body. There was a briefing with the captain ahead of her, and Shin was going to be there.

Perhaps she could borrow some work clothes from Anju or Shana…?

With that thought in mind, Lena peered around the empty corridor. Those girls were taller than her, so she could probably wear their clothes over the Cicada. Shiden also fit that description, but something stopped Lena from borrowing clothes from her.

She couldn’t put her finger on why, but she felt that asking Shiden wasn’t in her best interest.

She poked her head out the door, but upon looking in the other direction, she found Shin standing there. Lena stiffened immediately. Shin was rooted in place with his eyes widened slightly upon seeing Lena wearing nothing but the Cicada.

The purplish-silver quasi–nerve fibers formed a pseudo-brain that coated her body. And since it was skintight, it showed off her curves in a way that left little to the imagination. On top of that, certain parts of her body that had nothing to support them jiggled and swayed with her every move.

And Shin was looking right at her.

Come to think of it…Shin did walk in on Anju and Dustin during a mildly intimate moment without them noticing him. His footsteps were eerily silent.

What followed was a long, long, awkward silence.

“I heard Vika supplied you with something called the Cicada back in the United Kingdom,” Shin said, breaking that silence.