“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—but what other choice do I have? It could very well fail—in 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—and the crew—looks 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—I 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—and 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—but 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—all others are out of… commission or died.
“—The 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 Lübeck contingent until a proper chain of command can be established, or until we reach the commodore’s fleet.
“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— 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—that 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—then, 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—a 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—no 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—one all too familiar, one I remember fondly from that dream—but 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—almost throwing themselves onto me. I would have practically been knocked to the floor if it weren’t for the console desk behind me.
“Vicky—are you alright?” The dark-haired person says, her voice trembling with sadness. She doesn’t have pudgy cheeks or looks particularly fat—but 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—what 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—I 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—how much I cherish her and her annoying quirks. Friederika truly is more of a friend to me—she’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—but we’re safe, and that’s what matters.
“Thank you, Kiki… thank you for always being my friend—being 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.
