Chapter 43: Memories of Toscana | The Second Detachment
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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 Lübeck 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—but it was only for a brief moment. About twenty minutes after the battle began, the dastard Lübeck 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—it 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—and 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—

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—”

“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.”

Kolacz winces again, his teeth grit. A single bead of sweat runs down his stubble face, “your men are brave—unlike you—but 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—and 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—the… 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—if 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 —as 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—the 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—there 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—”

“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—if 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—but 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 Lübeck by now.

I prop my head up with my arm in distress.

Simon… is this really the best way to go about things?

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