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—but 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—we 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—you 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—” 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 “—we 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, “—the 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—his wired headphones are ripped from the console’s electronic ports and clatter to the floor, “S-Sergi reports that—”

“—T-the e-enemy fleet is changing trajectory! N-No…” The radar technician interjects with increasing paleness “—it’s splitting into three different formations! A-all their trajec—” he stammers around in a panic with a severe loss of words “—t-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—one sweeps behind Side Baltit— another one does a mirrored maneuver—and the third one…

“—Centre formation is cutting straight Sergi’s—No, 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—but 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—but 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—if at all—of 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—aside from the fleeing ships that turned around to join them—were 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—but the remote-controlled squadrons were only briefly disabled—some detonated—but 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—what 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 Lübeck 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 Lübeck 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.

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 Lübeck 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 Lübeck detachment, however, is cut off from linking up with their allies—most of their squadrons were able to slip through unopposed, leaving only the capital ship—a battlecruiser—and 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—no thanks in part to the Taiga— 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—hand 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—they 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—an 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—or 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—the 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—the 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—bigger than ever before, hell-bent on taking me down no matter what it takes.

Slowly—gradually—I 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—the one that the junior officer is in—the 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—because 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— 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—the Yilan. Prepare a shuttle for me as soon as you can—and 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—if 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.