A Little Push

[Sophie]

I-101 crept deep beneath the deep blue water at a crushing depth of one hundred meters, the Hei-Gata class’s test depth. Its screws turned at an excruciatingly slow one hundred twenty RPM pushing the boat a sluggardly four knots. Within, the metal pressure hull of the vessel creaked and groaned at the ever-exerting pressure of the water. Less than half the usual complement of women was awake on board while the rest slept in bunks in the torpedo room and aft machinery space.

Two women were working on maintaining one of the loaded torpedoes in the very fore room. Their words were hushed, and they threw glances over their shoulders, fearing eavesdroppers. “Have you heard? Apparently, there’s a woman from the ministry of Enforcement and Security onboard.” One asked the other.

“Aren’t we just executing patrols near the CMS? I thought we were on watch for the strike group that keeps trespassing in our waters.” The other responded, regurgitating their official orders.

She shook her head, “No way. I bet we’re dropping off spies to keep an eye on their navy and maybe even-” She was cut off by her shipmate jabbing her in the side as their commanding officer walked into the room. Both of them stopped their work and saluted rather stiffly.

“At ease, ladies.” The captain tiredly waved them off. “I feel it important to remind you not to speculate on things above your paygrade. Focus on your work. I expect you to finish the maintenance of our loadout before the end of your shift.” She rolled her eyes as the two women returned to their work.

Commander Sae Okano turned back around and closed the hatch to the torpedo room. She walked past several bunks stacked over three high with Kumo passed out behind the drawn curtains. Reaching her quarters, the bed wasn’t much bigger than anyone else's, but she didn’t have other beds stacked over it. Opposite her bed were the radio and sonar rooms. The radio officer had long gone to bed, but a sonar operator was still crewing the station.

They slowly turned a wheel, spinning the hydrophones on the outer hull of the boat to listen for propellors on the surface. She pressed the headphones into her ears but still heard nothing from any angle. Okano patted her on the shoulder while she diligently continued her work.

Just past the captain’s quarters was the control room. A handful of women inside monitored the various dials and valves to keep the submarine in prime operating condition. “Adachi, status?” The captain asked.

“Green across the board. Oxygen saturation is at nineteen percent, and batteries are at fifty-two percent.” The executive officer answered.

“Good.” The captain answered. She climbed up into the conning tower, walking straight up the wall, where two women sat talking to themselves. “Good afternoon, agent Sencha, Gyokuro. It seems rumors about your presence is already spreading. I just overheard it continuing in the torpedo room.”

“Did you quash it?” Gyokuro, a black widow Kumo with dark skin and darker hair, asked. The visor of her cap veiled her eyes with its shadow, but the glimmer of the officer’s red eyes still pierced through into the stiff gaze of the captain.

Commander Okano nodded firmly. “Yes, but it won’t stop rumors from spreading. Thankfully we’ll be in your deployment area soon.” She opened back up the hatch to the lower area. “I’ll let you know once we’re up at periscope depth.” Okano climbed back down to continue commanding the submariners.

Hours passed as the I-101 continued to crawl beneath the waves. Well before the submarine reached shallower waters, it rose to periscope depth. The very tip of the conning tower was a mere three meters below the glassy surface. One of the two (Kumosenkan Intelligence Agency) agents raised the attack periscope and peered through it. The scope itself only peeked two meters above the water, and as such, the agent could only see a mere five kilometers before the surface of the water fell below the horizon.

The two agents traded off having one of their eyes glued to the periscope every hour until finally, one of them spotted something. Unfortunately, it was not their goal, but rather smoke. Engine smoke. Rising above the horizon and seemingly coming towards the submarine. A few tense moments passed as Sencha kept her eye firmly pressed against the scope.

The angry bow of a destroyer came into clear view, flying the flag of the Mestrian navy. “Bring the scope down!” Sencha, the similarly black widow Kumo, called out to her cohort. She yanked the hatch to the command room and scurried down the wall. “Commander Okano. Enemy destroyer spotted. About five kilometers relative bearing five.”

“Right in the hydrophones’ blind spot. Spirits be damned.” The Captain pressed her index finger and thumb against the bridge of her nose. “Adachi-kas. Ping the bottom, see how deep we can go.” She ordered her Executive Officer before turning the Watch Officer, “Arakawa-kas. Take us to silent running.”

As Arakawa ran towards the light switch, a rugged metal PING could be heard throughout the boat as Adachi sent a sound ping to the bottom of the ocean. A finely tuned instrument welded to the bottom of the I-101’s hull listened closely for the echo of said ping and, with the aid of a rudimentary computer, displayed a three-digit number to Adachi. A soft blue light took over from the usual standard white as it did. All non-essential work ceased, not a mouth opened to speak a word that wasn’t ordered, and the women who were previously maintaining the torpedoes immediately abandoned the job leaving the weapon hanging from chains ready to be inserted into its tube.

“Commander,” Adachi whispered, “Zero Five Six meters to the bottom.”

“Arakawa, bring us down to fifty,” Okano answered back in a hush. “Once we’re there, take us to one knot.”

“Aye-aye Ma’am. Dive planes,” the watch officer ordered at a set of women sitting at a series of valves, “rig for rapid dive.” The two women began turning two valves each, turning the forward dive planes down and the aft dive planes up. As they did, the entire boat began to shift dramatically; it angled down to a complete forty-five-degree angle. In a matter of moments, the I-101 reached the ordered fifty-meter depth and leveled out.

PING the sound echoed through the entire submarine, grafting a high level of anxiety onto everyone’s psyche. Sencha stared at the captain and mouthed, “What was that?” The captain stared at the ceiling of the boat with fear.


“Sonar.” The captain whispered, barely above a hush.

PING

“Of all the ships in the ocean, we found a sub hunter,” Okano swore under her breath, and as the destroyer got closer, the pings got louder and more frequent.

PING

Carefully, the captain skittered to the hatch that led to the hydrophone’s operator.

PING

“Have you picked it up?” She whispered after pulling off one of the officer’s headphones.

“Barely.” She reported back. The needle on her hydrophone indicator rested exactly halfway between zero and ten. She put the headphone back on and pressed them into her ears.

PING

She winced. “She must have heard our depth ping. She’s staying on our five line.”

“How far out?” Okano asked as quietly as she could.

PING

The officer flinched again but still pressed the headphones harder into her ears.

She shook her head a few times and closed her eyes, desperately listening for the sound of the destroyer’s propellers.

PING

Using what little she could hear over the pinging to make some kind of guess on distance. “She’s edging out on our blindspot. Best-”

PING

She flinched again. “Best guess is just over a kilometer.”

PING

“Is it in an attack run?” The commander asked, her eyes pleading and her heart filled with fear.

The officer listened closely to the screws of the destroyer overhead.

PING

The tell-tale signs of the warship overrevving to get itself over the submarine to drop depth charges were absent. “It’s not. This might be a random sweep.”

PING

That answer gave the commander a small wave of relief, PING, but it didn’t do much to fight against the tide of fear the sound of an enemy’s active sonar brought about. PING

The ship above drew ever closer. PING The pings got more and more frequent. PING Not a soul made a sound PING. Only the electric engines' quiet whirring PING dared peep. PING PING PING PING PING PING PING PING And then, silence.

Commander Okano turned her eyes down from the ceiling to the hydrophones operator. Her eyes searched for reassurance, but the officer kept her eyes squeezed tight while she listened intently—a single moment, and then another, one more. The pings may have stopped, but every sailor could now clearly hear the Mestrian destroyer’s screws turning in the water directly above them.

The officer took off her headset and leaned back in her chair. “No depth charges deployed.” Such a joyous revelation would typically cause immediate celebration, but the warship was in all likelihood still listening, so the sailors settled for a quiet relief from panic.

Immediately she put her set back on and listened for the warship above and dealt out more good news mere minutes later, wiping sweat from her brow with a relieved sigh. “It's not coming back around. It didn’t pick us up.” With a smile, the commander lightly patted the back of her officer and returned to the command room.

“Bring us back up to P.D.,” She ordered to the room, invoking two sailors to shift the dive planes upwards. Slowly the boat climbed back up to a matter of meters below the surface, and Sencha climbed back up into the conning tower.

“All clear?” Gyokuro asked once the hatch closed, leaving the two women alone.

Sencha pushed a lever up, raising the periscope to pierce the waves' surface again. “Let’s find out.” She gestured for her partner to use the scope.

Calm blue oceans, as far as the eye could see. Not even smoke from the enemy destroyer’s funnel could be seen anymore. “All clear.” She said with a deep sigh of relief. Both of the agents collapsed back onto themselves as the stress of the situation bubbled off.

The Kumo beneath the waves all relaxed and returned to their labor as the Commander released the ship from silent running. The torpedowomen finished maintaining their weapon and returned it to its tube. The screws turned faster, pushing the boat back up to four knots, cavitating the water behind it. As the sun finally set overhead, the I-101 resurfaced and switched from its electric engine to staol. The boat accelerated up to fourteen knots, the maximum possible speed it could achieve while simultaneously charging its batteries.

Within a matter of hours at this speed, she reached the shore. Agents Sencha and Gyokuro climbed up and out of the conning tower. An inflatable raft was tied down to the foredeck of the submarine for the two women to paddle to shore. As soon as they were detached from the boat, it turned back around and began its return journey.

[Sophie]

Summer, 1930.
Kochimasachu port city, Kosmiosau, Confederation of Mestrian States.

Dreary. The best word to describe the city, even on its best days. Ever since King Seok Jii demanded the rapid industrialization of Kochimasachu, the sky had been perpetually filled with smog. The smell of the city had been forever perverted by the relentless stench of scorched space rocks. Today, however, was even worse than the average, for it was raining. As was typical for rain in Kochimasachu for the past handful of years, foulfall splattered the cobblestone a cursed rain that regurgitated back down what the factories were spewing out, bringing with it pain, sickness, and fear.

The streets were abandoned. Very few dared to venture outside during heavy bouts of foulfall, but Hwang Young-Jae cared not to avoid the filthy weather. In truth, he would have much preferred staying inside during such sickening conditions, but he had not much for choice. Despite his wife’s vigorous protests against his leaving, he embarked towards a bar on the city's outskirts. The “Vëtterwogel Union Bar” in specific. A dinghy hole in the wall that served little above swill.

“Young-Jae?” The bar’s owner questioned as Hwang opened the door to the tavern, ringing the small bell that hung from the frame. “What are you doing here? I was just about to close up.” The evening had only just begun, but Che Tong-Hyon was well convinced he wouldn’t be receiving any customers this evening. He had already stacked chairs onto the tables and was wiping down the bar itself.

Young-Jae looked up at his old friend, completely exhausted. “I just really need a drink.” This wasn’t necessarily a lie, but it wasn’t the reason he had braved the sickly storm outside. He sat down at the bar on a rickety three-legged stool. In one of his four arms, he tightly clutched a manila folder hidden beneath his overcoat. “Whiskey, plenty of ice. If you still have some. Please.”

Tong-Hyon pursed his lips and nodded. Clean glass and a stiff drink. The glass clattered as he pushed it over to his friend. “Are you alright, Young-Jae? You look like hammered shit.”

The ice clinked around in the drink and stared at the depleted Iriad. “I’m alright.” He lied, rather obviously. Normally he was a rather skilled liar, but the meager few hours of sleep he’d managed to accrue in the past week fatigued his abilities.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” The bartender offered. Though he went to deliver a consoling hand, the door’s bell rang again. “Good even-” he turned towards the door but froze as he saw who walked in.

Two black widow Kumo walked through the door, and with them a frigid atmosphere. The conversation between the two insectoids stopped. Young-Jae didn’t look up from his untouched drink, but Tong-Hyon’s eyes were locked firmly on the two massive women as they walked forth and sat on either side of Young-Jae. Despite sitting on the floor, the two Kumo still appeared taller than Young-Jae.

“W… what can I get you two?” Tong-Hyon stuttered, his anxiety mounting.

The Kumo on his left didn’t bother to look up at him, her dark hair covering her face. “Some privacy.”

“Excuse me?” He scoffed, “This is my bar; I don’t take orders from the likes-”

The Kumo on his right placed a handgun on the bar. “Some privacy.”

Tong-Hyon physically recoiled at the sight of the weapon. His eyes darted between the two women. “Just go, Tong-Hyon,” Young-Jae spoke up, finally taking a sip of his drink.

Stunned for quite a few moments, Tong-Hyon slowly walked out the door. Once the bell jingled and the door creaked shut, the dark-skinned black widow Kumo spoke again. “I believe our mutual friend told you to bring us some documents.”

With a deep sigh, Young-Jae finished the last of his drink. He shivered as the burning liquid found its way down his throat. “Yes, she did.” His hand clenched the manilla folder in his jacket even tighter. With a mountain of hesitation, he threw the folder onto the bar. “There.”

The Kumo took the folder and placed it inside a satchel she had brought with her. As she did so, she pulled out a different manilla folder and put it in front of Young-Jae. “Your new orders.” The two Kumo rose and began to leave.

He looked at the folder for a moment, his eye twitching and his heart filling with foreboding. “N- no!” He shouted after the two women, standing from his stool. “I… I got you the names. I’m done.”

The lighter-skinned black widow turned back around. “You’re done when we say you’re done. Not a moment before.” She stomped forward and loomed over the small Iriad. “Or, should we make another stop tonight? Three blocks down from here, right? Let your poor wife know about the several affairs you’ve been having.”

The darker of the two looked to her colleague. “Or we could drop off these photos at a local police station. I’m sure they’d be fascinated to learn a lieutenant is taking bribes from a foreign government.”

“I guess you don’t love your daughter very much because either way we choose to ruin your life, you will never see her again.”

She looked deeper into the man’s eyes and, without wavering, continued her threats. “I wonder how many sleepless nights she’ll have calling out for daddy once you’re removed from her life.”

Young-Jae’s eyes darted between the two women as they ping-ponged off each other. With a deep swallow, he shifted his eyes down to his shoes. “Fine. Do what you must. I won’t do any more than I have already.”

Suddenly he gasped for air as one of the two Kumo seized his neck. “I see that’s not enough motivation for you.” She spoke through her teeth. “Then how about we make sure she never has to wonder where daddy is ever again?”

His heart sank into the most bottomless pits of hell. “I didn’t think even your kind would stoop that low.”

“We all have jobs to do.” She let go of his neck and forced him to the ground. “Now go do yours. We put double your last fee in there.”

[Sophie]

Kochimasachu Arsenal was a combined army and naval base only about two hundred kilometers north of the Kochimasachu city center. For agents Sencha and Gyokuro, this would take well over a full day to reach, even if they kept up a healthy jog the entire time. This wouldn’t have been a problem if they had a full complement of supply, except they had been ordered to pack extremely light. Together they had managed to find a handful of canned goods but nothing to sleep in or on.

They followed the road north from a comfortable distance so any stray carriages wouldn’t see them by accident. After a total of twelve hours of jogging in brutally warm rains, the two women were utterly exerted, and their canteens were completely empty. A light shone on the horizon as they were preparing to find a spot to settle in for the night. A brief moment of hope flashed between them before they realized it wasn’t the Arsenal but another carriage pulling down the road.

“Should we?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Horse-drawn, not exactly pillars of the community.”

“What play do you wanna run?”

“Help, I have a baby?”

Gyokuro nodded and began gathering sand into a wad of cloth while Sencha hid behind a mound of rocks just on the edge of the dirt road. Gyokuro, cradling the bundle of sand-like her own child in her bosom. She stumbled up the road, barely catching herself with each step. As the carriage drew closer, she desperately wove her free arm in the air. “Help!” She called out in a faux rasp.

The carriage clattered down the road, its staol-fueled lantern swaying with the movements of the cab. As it approached the Kumo, the driver yanked on the reigns, instructing the horses to stop. The driver was somewhat baffled at the sight of a Kumo on some random back road in the middle of Kosmiosau, but his kind-hearted nature would’ve made him stop for anyone. “Are you alright?”

“M- my baby! She’s not breathing! Please help her!” Gyokuro pleaded with the driver.

He climbed down off the carriage with a sympathetic eye and approached her. “Let me see. I used to be a-” He was cut off by his own scream as Gyokuro’s fangs found their place in his neck. Her venom quickly flooded his circulatory system as she released a whole pint into his body. The man convulsed as his blood changed from a liquid to rough gelatin. Once he had fully collapsed onto the floor, Gyokuro drew her knife and slit the man’s throat, ensuring he would not survive.

Without paying the newly made corpse, another look, Sencha came out of hiding and joined Gyokuro at the door to the carriage. With their handguns drawn, they yanked open the door to find… Nothing, aside from maybe a day's worth of supplies.

“Alright, you’re driving,” Sencha ordered.

“Fine. I’ll get this thing turned around while you bury that.” She gestured to the lifeless corpse still leaking blood onto the dirt road.

Within a matter of minutes, the duo was on the road in the carriage with Sencha resting in the back. The horse clopped along, pulling the two Kumo ahead towards their goal. Now, their speed was heightened, and they were able to rest in preparation for their actual mission.

After a few hours of traveling and as the sun set, a watchtower peaked over the horizon. Gyokuro banged on the outer hull of the carriage. “Wake up. We’re walking from here on.” She commanded. Still half-asleep, Sencha hoped out of the carriage, and Gyokuro tied the horse to a nearby tree. They both took off on foot again, though at a walking pace this time.

As they walked, Sencha went over the contents of the folder they had received from the Mestrian Lieutenant. “Tae Shin. Twenty-four years old. A sergeant. And let's see. Spirits, he’s had more reprimands in a year than I have legs.”

“Perfect,” Gyokuro responded, “and the other?”

“Mun Seong. Just as bad but a rank below. Corporal, nineteen years old.” She answered. “Seems like he’s been a problem ever since he joined four years ago,”

“They let fifteen-year-olds into the military?”

“Seems so, yeah.”

“Any family between them?”

“No. Tae Shin’s mother died last year and never married, and Mun Seong is completely estranged from his parents,” Senka answered, reading directly from the file.

“Perfect targets then.”

“Exactly what we asked for.”

The duo reveled in their joy for a moment or two before finding a good location to scout from. They got comfortable and shared a loaf of bread taken from the coach. As Sencha chewed, she stared down her octoculars at the military base. Though perhaps ‘base’ was a bit generous. It was more of a collection of apartment buildings mixed in with some armament storage. There was fencing, but it was clearly impaired. There were no gaps in the fencing, but some of it sagged and was damaged.

They watched idly for about an hour before Sencha spoke up, with a mouthful of bread. “There.” She swallowed. “That’s Mun Seong.” She watched closely as the corporal walked out of a building, getting torn to pieces by a superior. Clearly frustrated, Seong walked away. He went off behind the building and began smoking as soon as his superior gave up on screaming. “You’re up Gyokuro-kas.”

Under cover of darkness, thanks to the recently fallen sun, Sencha took off from their hiding place and began sprinting for the wall. Being a black widow Kumo with very dark skin, she melded into the darkness quite perfectly. None of the sentries could ever have hoped to spot her as she reached the fence. She walked over the fence and darted over to the building Seong was smoking behind.

In a swift motion, Gyokuro battered the Mestrian over the head, knocking him to the ground. Disoriented and confused, the soldier tried to call out in pain but soon found his mouth stuffed with webbing. The agent had her target completely entangled in her webs in less than a minute. With a quick heave, she placed the mass of webs onto her back and quickly adhered it to her. Then, as soon as she had arrived, she was gone.

While Gyokuro was acquiring her game, Sencha spotted their other target. Tae Shin, the raucous sergeant. He, fortuitously, was leaving. Gyokuro watched from mere meters away as he chatted up the entry guard. He talked and talked, not knowing that his entire life would be upended in mere minutes. As he waved goodbye to the attendant, he put a cigarette in his smiling mouth. He lit it and continued walking outwards.

Sencha followed behind her prey, ducking behind trees, rocks, buildings, whatever would hider her imposing figure. Only ten minutes after Shin had left the base, Sencha was confident she wouldn’t be seen. She wrapped up a rope of webbing between her hands and sprained behind her quarry. Without a second breath, she wrapped the rope around his neck and pulled it tight. The man kicked and grasped at the rope while desperately choking for air. His brain begged for oxygen as the woman ruthlessly wrung out every last molecule of it from him. His grasps and tugs dulled to weak pulls, his eyes drifting shut as he lost consciousness.

[Sophie]

The RBS Mikuma departed the port city of Almerzhinsk at precisely 1400 hours. Accompanying the Kumosenkan Aka-class heavy cruiser was a pair of Kumosenkan destroyers and a dozen Koian Staoliers. After ending up on the receiving end of minor injuries during the naval exercise along the waters dividing Kumosenkan and the Confederation of Mestrian states, she was ordered to the nearest friendly dock for repairs. Now that her wounds had healed, she attached herself to the escorts in an effort to return home.

The journey wasn’t long, only two thousand kilometers from the Mikuma’s fleet’s home dock, a trip the cruiser could make all on her own a dozen times over. However, with the escalating hostilities between Kumosenkan and the CMS, the Royal Battle Fleet no longer allowed anyone to travel alone. The convoy steamed along, and the Mikuma found its place at the back of the group, with the two destroyers on either side of the Staoilers reigning them in like sheepdogs. The escorts swept along the edges as they moved alongside, listening intently for any sign of warships beneath the waves. They even sent out the occasional active sonar ping into the depths vying to foil any submarine’s hope of ambush. These were typical actions of escorting destroyers in peacetime, though the sonar operators were much more diligent than average as the chance of an attack was now more likely than ever.

While the destroyers worked well to secure the convoy's safety, the heavy cruiser sat idly in the back, completely useless. Most of her crew was idle, resting or recreating. Those that were working were providing vital services to keeping the warship functioning, most notably those in the engine rooms keeping the screws pushing the nineteen thousand ton vessel through the water. Several sailors within were chatting amongst themselves as they worked to keep the staol lines running.

“I still don’t understand why we couldn’t dock in Tsubame with the rest of the fleet.” Able Seaman Etsuko Nonaka mused in frustration, the extreme heat of the engine room causing her ire.

Seaman Apprentice Masami Fujino wiped the deluge of sweat off her brow and responded. “Because Mikuma was wounded?” She answered with a tone, implying the answer was obvious.

“Not mortally,” Another Seaman Apprentice retorted as she inspected the firing engine pistons, “and it's highly improbable that she was the only one wounded in that fight. Why were we the only ones who couldn’t go home?”

An air of agreement flew through the engine room as the sentiment spread from woman to woman. “Mind your labor, ladies.” Petty Officer First Class Emi Hirose barked, tamping down the unrest in the room. “If our captain brought us to Almerzhinsk, then you should have faith she did so in your and Mikuma’s best interest.”

While the non-commissioned officer’s reminder stopped the talk, it didn’t answer the questions that lingered in the minds of the enlisted. Hours passed, and the women still threw theories between each other, covered up by the roaring of the engines. “Maybe there were more ships damaged than our shipyards could handle simultaneously?” Masami Fujino wondered to her neighbor, both keeping up their labor to not draw the ire of their superiors.

“You’ve seen our shipyards haven’t you?” Etsuko Nonaka retorted. “We could rebuild the entire Kogo Heika fleet in a year if needed.”

“Well, maybe Mikuma was hurt worse than she led on? And she couldn’t make the trip home.” Fujino grasped at another straw.

“Even if she was, we were probably closer to home than Almerzhinsk.” Nonaka brought back.

Fujino kept up her work silently for a while; her eyes darted randomly as she continued to think up why they were sent to the Koian city-state. Though just as she was about to spout off her newest theory, she was cut off. “Officer on deck!” The simple three-word sentence got all the women to stop working and snap to attention.

All eyes darted to the entrance hatch to wit the Captain of the vessel could be seen. In a relatively hushed tone, Fujino spoke again. “Who are they?” She asked, referencing the two large black widow Kumo flanking Captain Shizuka Furukawa. “I’ve never seen them before.”

“At ease, ladies,” Furukawa ordered, allowing all the enlisted women to relax their stances. “You’ve all been working hard to help Mikuma heal. As a reward for getting her back in the ocean under her own power, I’d like you all to attend a small party in the galley. I and Petty Officers Tsuji and Tagawa will take over your work.”

The enlisted machinists abandoned the engine room and climbed up the walls of the passageways to the second level below deck. The response of the seamen was a mix of revelry and confusion, though those leaning towards the side of confusion left in just as much of a hurry as the excited. The party felt as much a gift as an order.

The party was basic. A more accurate descriptor would be an extra meal with cake. Curry, a Royal Battle Fleet classic, was served to each sailor invited to the party. The machinists stood in line, each getting a healthy serving of curry and a box of chocolate-covered biscuit sticks that they eyed with anticipation.

Fujino sat next to her direct superior and friend, Nonaka. She idly played with the rice in her bowl, her brow furrowed and her nose scrunched. “What, you don’t like curry?” Nonaka asked after shoveling the first bite into her mouth.

“I love curry.” She corrected, staring into her bowl of food. The rice squished as she pushed it around with her chopsticks.

Stopping eating, Nonaka looked over at her. “Then what’s wrong?”

Fujino put her chopsticks down in the bowl. “Something feels weird. Did you recognize those two Petty Officers?”

“No?” She answered, trying to figure out the point she was making.

“Isn’t that odd? Two random NCOs we’ve never met yet are somehow qualified to take over an entire engine room from the thirty of us?” While huffy, she kept a hushed tone to not draw the ire of her Petty Officer.

“Maybe they’re from the other shifts?” Nonaka offered.

“Haven’t you worked here for four years? Don’t you know all the Petty Officers on the other shifts?”

“Fujino-kas, you realize over eight hundred women are serving on this ship, right? Over two hundred of whom are machinists. There are two other engine rooms aside from ours. All three have three shifts. No. I do not know all the Petty Officers on the other shifts.”

Despite the answer making logical sense to her, Funjino still felt uncomfortable. “Something just felt weird. Coming to this party felt more like an order than a gift. Plus, I’ve never seen Captain Furukawa in the engine rooms.”

“Fujino-kas. You’ve been in the Royal Battle Fleet for a year, right?” She looked to her underling, who nodded, her face still contorted in concern. “Let me give you some advice then. It is not unusual for unusual things to happen. Keep your head down, do your job, and follow orders. Just enjoy the free time off, okay?”

Still unsatisfied, Fujino just accepted the fact that she wasn’t going to be getting a resolution to her confusion and unease. Finally, she began to actually eat her meal. The party continued for over an hour before all teams started returning to their work.

The machinists filtered back into the engine room, taking over for the captain and the two black widow Kumo Petty Officers. As Fujino passed by the Petty Officers, she couldn’t help but stare as the pit her in stomach grew. She returned to her job overseeing the fourth boiler’s temperature. The work continued for another two hours as it always had, and Fujino calmed down.

Though as soon as she relaxed, there was a deafening explosion. The entire cruiser rocked in the ocean as flames began shooting out of its side. The boom could be heard from every vessel in convoy. Metal shards flung off the ship and left only large plumes of water where they landed. An enormous gash was opened up on the starboard side of the vessel. Being the middle of the night, the cruiser lit up the ocean waters providing a beacon to all those nearby. The destroyers turned on a heel and made way for the now wounded cruiser.

Claxons blared, and red lights flashed throughout the cruiser. A panicked voice came on over the speakers all over the ship. “Explosions in engine rooms one and three! Damage control teams respond!” All non-essential crew members immediately began sprinting towards the wounded areas of the vessel to attempt to stem the flow of water into the ship as well to put out the mass of fires that had broken out.

Fujino had been launched across the room and into the back wall. Completely disoriented, all she could hear was a very high-pitched ringing in her ear. Her entire body ached as she tried to push herself off the ground and back up on her paws. Clutching her ringing head, she squinted her vision and caught the sight of Nonaka sprawled just next to her. She had been blasted away similarly, though it seemed she was unconscious on the floor. Even though she couldn’t even hear herself speak, she tried to help her up, calling to her. “Nonaka! Nonaka, get up!” She yanked on her friend's arm only to finally see the massive spear of jagged metal that had impaled her torso.

The sight of her brutalized friend launched her back and off her paws once again. She turned away and tried to again get herself back upright. Turning away from her friend, she saw the portal of hell her engine room had turned into. The entire area was engulfed in flames, smoke was steadily filling the whole compartment, and the corpses of her peers were scattered about randomly.

Then, she felt something cold. Ice cold. Seawater was rushing in at an uncontrolled rate. Fujino watched in horror as even the flooding water didn’t extinguish the flames. She began to run for the hatch just as a fully equipped damage control team burst in. She addressed the leader in a panic. “Class D flames!” She yelled, falling back on her extensive damage control training. Very few fires wouldn’t be completely snuffed out by being smothered by water, but metallic flames would persist.

The leader of the damage control team nodded and ran for the wall-mounted dry-powder-fire-extinguisher. She and her team began dousing the flames that weren’t made accessible by flooding. Mono-ammonium phosphate and a smattering of other powders started spewing all over the room, separating the fire’s source from oxygen. The extinguishers were extraordinarily effective against the flames, but with every inch of fire they put out, it seemed to spread twice as far.

The smoke billowing into the room had gotten to be too much. The leader called out. “She’s lost! Get the fuck out of here before we suffocate!” The team began scurrying out, leaving the still stunned Fujino behind.

“ALL HANDS ABANDON SHIP. ABANDON SHIP. ALL HANDS ABANDON SHIP.” The one alarm no sailor ever wanted to hear began to blare, though thankfully, it pulled Fujino out of her stupor. With as much strength as she could still muster with her smoke-poisoned lungs, she took a deep breath and bolted for the hatch. The passageways were almost entirely engulfed in flame. The cruiser had begun to violently list to the starboard side, adding to Fujjino’s extreme disorientation.

She tried to climb up on the ceiling to avoid the flames as she began to make for the deck. Climbing up so high exposed her to even more smoke. Further dizziness began to plague her as the oxygen levels in her blood plummeted, replaced with burning heavy metals. The ship had become unrecognizable to her; every corner she turned was utterly foreign. Every hatch she climbed through led to a room she had never seen before. Her thoughts became clouded and heavy. All she knew was she had to go up.

Dozens of corpses barricaded hatches and blocked passageways. After crawling across ceilings, floors, and walls down several corridors, she found her way back to the canteen. Her brain had become too poisoned to even feel relief from the orientation she was just granted. Everything was too heavy. There wasn’t enough energy in her body anymore. She couldn’t push enough blood into her legs to get the hydraulic nature of them functioning. “Here…” she rasped, “is as good a place to die as any.”

She sat down at one of the tables and took out her crushed box of biscuit sticks. She took a single one out and popped it into her mouth, enjoying the chocolatey sweetness of her last meal, but as she was getting ready to let go, she felt a yank on the back of her neck. “What on Ouhiri are you still doing here, sailor?! Get the fuck off my ship!” Captain Furukawa barked into her ears.

Completely dazed, Fujino couldn’t make heads or tails of what was happening and simply popped another pocky into her mouth. With frustration and fury, the Captain lifted the sailor onto her back and quickly webbed her down. That was the last memory Fujino had inside of Mikuma. Her recollection restarted being up on deck, still attached to her Captain’s back, her arms tied to her neck. The Captain stepped forward off the starboard side, plunging both of them into the freezing water.

Her brain restarted as the icy water blasted the Seaman Apprentice in the face. She began coughing violently, her eyes stinging in the presence of saltwater. Her lungs had completely filled with smoke, and now that her brain was working again, it desperately wanted the smoke out of her. While Fujino coughed and regained her bearings, the Captain swam the both of them to the nearest lifeboat. One of the sailors onboard pulled the two of them up. “Cut her off me and give her medical attention.” The Captain barked at her subordinates.

Thankfully one of those aboard was a corpsman and quickly obliged, but as soon as she was detached, the Captain made to dive back into the water. The corpsman grappled her Commanding Officer. “What are you doing, ma’am?!”

“To get more. Let go.” Furukawa responded in a growl.

“She’s lost, ma’am. I can’t allow you to go back.” The corpsman responded, holding tightly onto her CO’s shoulders.

The Captain turned around and shoved the woman off of her, though a much larger explosion rocked the ocean as she did. The entire front end of the warship went up in a massive explosion as the ammunition bunkers for the maw of the angler fish detonated. The fore third of the ship was fully separated, and metal from the ship’s armor and hull flung wildly in every direction. All seven of the ship's fore turrets catapulted into the sky in massive flame plumes before collapsing into the water.

Water rushed into the now gaping hole that replaced the fore-end of the ship. Water rushed in with such speed that the aft of the boat lifted entirely out of the water before the whole of the vessel plummeted beneath the waves.

Furukawa stared upon her ship the entire time, not averting her eyes for a moment. The detonation didn’t break her gaze, nor did a piece of armor that whizzed past her head. Even once the vessel removed itself from sight, she continued to stare at that powdered staol slick that still burned aflame. Her ears rang, but not from the explosions. Blood pumped in her head, in her heart, with emotions that threatened to burst like a flooding bulkhead. As she grasped at the edges of the lifeboat and stared out at the sinking wreck, she could only feel the hot tears pour from her eyes as formless thoughts raced throughout her mind.

[Sophie]

RBS Kaifuku, a Recovery class salvage ship, hovered in the Bay of Blytheport, just fifty kilometers off the northeastern coast of Truigua. Several sailors looked over the edge into the calm blue waters. “I thought Mikuma’s magazine detonated? We can’t recover a ship blown to pieces like that.”

“Wouldn’t it be cheaper just to build a new Mikuma? There’s no way we can repair that amount of damage.” Several women mused to each other before a more commanding voice came over from the bridge.

“We’re not on recovery.” The captain informed. “We’re investigating the cause.” She climbed down from the bridge to the main deck of the Kaifuku. “The captain of Mikuma informed us that the ship was operating optimally before the explosions. We need to go down there and search for any reason the explosions could have happened.”

“Shizuko Naito, Hikaru Ogata, you’re getting suited up for a long dive. Meet me in the planning room, and we can go over the blueprints of Mikuma.”

The two women specifically called out were the Kaifuku’s dive officers. They were quick to follow after their captain into the officer’s planning room, where a massive blueprint of the Aka class heavy cruiser had been splayed out upon the table.



“The first explosions were reported in the engine rooms here and here.” She pointed at the aft two engine rooms. “A few minutes later, the fore engine room exploded in kind. The fire spread from there to the fore magazine, detonating the front end of Mikuma. Since the explosion from the magazine was so devastating, the vessel's bow is likely to be the safest entrance. The holes created by the explosions in the engine rooms are likely too small and jagged to safely traverse in dive suits. Follow this path,” She traced the arrows drawn on the blueprints. “Our engineers have deemed it the most likely to be safe without damaging your air connection.”

The two dive officers looked over the blueprints and the plan. “Alright. We’ll go get suited up then.” They left the planning room together and went back out to the deck. A group of six began unloading the massive dive suits from their lockers. It was an exhaustive effort to don the suits, and even with a fully trained team, the effort took well over an hour to put on correctly.

While they were busy gearing up, the captain delved into the ship's bowels to meet with her sonar team. While they were given the area Mikuma was lost, they needed a more exact positioning for a path to take as the air supply hose didn’t have an infinite length. With the aid of active sonar, Kaifuku maneuvered directly above Mikuma and dropped anchor.

Both dive team members took a step off the edge of their vessel and plummeted into the water. They both held onto the anchor’s chain, slowly falling deeper and deeper into the blue. After descending forty meters, they could finally see the ripped-open maw of the Mikuma. The cruiser was almost completely unrecognizable, covered in scars, with scorched breaches in the hull, missing turrets, and a snapped-in-half superstructure.

The front of the boat was nowhere to be seen. Scrap metal littered the ocean floor around Mikuma, secondary and primary guns lay on the floor, dislodged from their barbettes when the boat somersaulted on its way down. Even if they could float the ship back up, it would be completely unrecognizable in this state. Even the funnels had holes blown through them.

The initial areas of devastation were obvious enough, three massive holes bored into the centerline of the ship. The divers immediately agreed with the surface engineer's assessment: Attempting to enter directly into the engine rooms would all but guarantee the puncturing of one of the air hoses.

After ten minutes of careful descent, the divers finally had pedipalps on the ocean floor. Slowed by not only the weight of their gear but also the water, the two crawled along the ocean floor towards the stricken cruiser. It took half an hour to cross the thirty meters of sand that separated the anchor from the open bow of the cruiser.

There before them lay bare the guts of the Mikuma. Specifically, a passageway littered with mangled corpses of Kumo floating aimlessly against the passageway’s ceiling. Legs had been torn off, their bodies littered with metal shrapnel. The room was so filled with the dead the divers had to push the hanging cadavers to the side to make it further inside.

The hatch the blueprint suggested they take next had a sailor attached to it, her arms locked in an eternal struggle to open the door. Ogata pried the woman’s fingers one by one off the valve and began to struggle to turn it herself.

The first engine room. Four massive boilers dominated the room, two of them completely destroyed. The metal bent outwards, clearly indicating an incident from inside the boilers. Though this engine room was the last of the three to suffer a catastrophic explosion. The engine room wasn’t much for corpses; most of the machinists must have been able to escape once the abandon ship was called, hopefully before the room exploded.

The few dead sailors left in the engine room floated in the diminutive air bubble at the top of the room. Their bodies were scorched by the flames that bellowed from the boilers. The divers crawled around the room, taking care to ensure their airlines were unobstructed. The room showed no sign of unexpected or unpredictable damage; the divers could determine the engine room one explosion. Fire spread from engine room two and spread rapidly down the staol lines and ignited the unburned pre-fuel in the boilers, causing them to over pressurize and detonate.

Naito waved her arm slowly through the water at Ogata, held up an “OK” sign, and then two fingers before pointing to the hatch leading towards the next engine room. Pushing past burnt-out corridors, floating corpses, and jagged metal, the two reached the next engine room. The room was a near identical copy of the first, yet instead of half the boilers being blown out, all of them were. Upon a cursory glance, the boilers seemed to have been destroyed in the exact same manner, an over-pressure detonation. Though as the divers examined closer, much more confounding damage was found.

Towards the back of the boilers, crammed incredibly tight between the wall, nearly impossible to access while wearing the diving suit. Small scars, the metal bending inward, an explosion had happened on the outside. There were no indications of a staol spill or scorching beyond the immediate area of the scar. This wasn’t an accident. In the mind of Naito and Ogata, there was no other possible cause for a fault like that on the back of every single boiler.

Determined to find answers, the duo continued their underwater trek to the final engine room. Room three. The team’s flashlights blared into the murky room, revealing it to be eerily empty. In contrast to the others, not a single Kumo carcass littered the water. The divers immediately swam around to the back of the boilers. Scars angled inwards. If they weren’t sure before, they were now. This was sabotage.

With desperation, the duo continued to search the engine room, but it was devoid of life or anything further of intrigue. The only sight left to be seen was the emergency tools closet, but as Ogata attempted to pull the hatch open, she realized it was sealed tight. Even with their strengths combined, they could not pull open the door.

Naito signaled Ogata to pull the pack a few steps and unslung her skeleton key from her back. An underwater oxy-acetylene cutting torch. Bubbles and blinding light flew from the torch as it connected with the door. The metal of the door rapidly oxidized and burned off. Naito completely cut off the entire mechanism from the frame. Once the square section of metal was free from the door, the rest of the entry swung open lazily.


The duo recoiled in shock. The entire floor of the emergency tools closet was cut open, revealing the lower guts of the cruiser. More importantly, two non-Kumo corpses floated aimlessly in a small air bubble in the closet. Insectoids. Preying manti humanoids, each with a scuba rebreather attached to their faces and a similar oxy-acetylene torch in hand. The two stared in frozen horror at the implication of what they were seeing. They shared a knowing glance between them and nodded.

They quickly searched the floating cadavers; they had rank identifiers, ids, and, more importantly, small demolitions explosives attached to timers. Their identifiers pegged them as a sergeant and a corporal from the Kochimasachu Arsenal. Satisfied with their search, the diving duo turned from the closet.

They began their long trek out of the cruiser and back up to their salvage ship. Burdened by the extra weight and responsibility of carrying the knowledge of what had truly happened to Mikuma along with them. It took several hours to simply push their way back through the cruiser to get back out into open waters and another hour to pull themselves up the anchor chain.

“They’re back!” A watchstander called. By now, the sun had fallen, leaving the ocean dark. The sailors were quick to pull up the dive team. Once on deck, the crew began doffing the dive suits, and they tried to celebrate their return, but neither of the divers felt much like talking. They stayed in near complete silence, thoughts running through their heads like a river. Once they were free of their canvass prisons, the captain motioned them to her office.

“What did you find?” Their captain asked as soon as they were alone. “Can an accident like this be prevented in the future?”

“No. It can’t.” Ogata answered in a depression.

The captain was clearly confounded by the response and opened her mouth to object until Naito clarified. “It wasn’t an accident. It was sabotage. We found Mestrians with an acetylene torch and clear signs that timed explosives were used to destroy Mikuma’s engine rooms.”

“We found… corpses.” Ogata stuttered.

“Of course you did.” The captain retorted. “Mikuma went down with nearly all hands.”

“Mestrians.” Ogata shuttered as the word left her lips. “Spirit damned Mestrians.”

The captain physically recoiled. “What?!” She begged in a raspy howl. “No, you don’t mean….”


“We found two Mestrian soldiers in the third engine room. They had explosives and an acetylene torch.” Naito continued. “Without a doubt, they were the cause of Mikuma’s death.”

“Spirits be damned.” The captain swore under her breath. “They actually did it.”


“Do you think… this means war?”