Chapter 4.4 - “The Long Road Home”

I. Kade vs Paperwork

Kade Bher had signed orders sending girls into battle before.

He had signed orders sending them into dangerous waters.

He had signed orders that committed the last available ammunition reserves, authorized emergency withdrawals, diverted medical personnel, and placed human lives in the hands of commanders who could not possibly guarantee that everyone would survive.

He disliked all of those signatures.

But the one sitting in front of him now was particularly troublesome.

HORIZON ATOLL NAVAL COMMAND

OPERATION LANTERN ROAD

MISSION TYPE: Long-range strategic resupply and technical recovery.

DESTINATION: Resolute Shoals.

INTERMEDIATE SUPPORT: Summit Key.

PRIMARY TRANSPORT: Sakura Nagase — Senko Maru-class Keelborn.

MISSION STATUS: Approved, subject to final readiness confirmation.

Kade regarded the document.

Then regarded the pen.

Then looked toward Mara Fenwick.

“I hate this.”

The Chief of Staff didn't look up from her own paperwork.

“I know.”

“Just thought you should be aware.”

“Your opinion has been extensively documented, Commander.”

Kade narrowed his eyes.

“Has it?”

Mara turned a page.

“Several times.”

He considered that.

Then leaned back.

“Excellent. Add another entry.”

The Chief almost smiled.

Then her expression became serious.

“We've received the final acknowledgement from Resolute Shoals.”

Kade straightened.

“And?”

“They've accepted Sakura's proposed arrival and the technical cargo request.”

He glanced toward her.

“All of it?”

“Not all the bulk supplies she's requested. Some are subject to allocation limits, and ammunition releases will require separate authorization.”

Kade nodded.

That was expected.

A major human fortress still needed to protect its own magazines.

Horizon could not simply arrive with an empty transport and demand that Resolute hand over enough fuel, shells, machinery, and medicine to empty half its warehouses.

Mara continued.

“But the engineering depot has confirmed the restoration components are reserved pending transfer authorization and verification.”

Kade stopped moving.

For a moment, his expression changed.

“The Pendant interface?”

“Included.”

“The coupling manifold?”

“Yes.”

“And the control modules?”

“Also included.”

He slowly lowered his eyes.

For several seconds, he stared at the document.

Then whispered:

“Okay.”

Mara watched him.

The young Commander seemed almost afraid to look pleased.

She understood why.

The equipment existed.

That was an encouraging fact.

Its usefulness remained uncertain.

It had not been tested in Horizon's damaged installation.

Nobody knew whether it could safely support the eventual restoration of a Keelborn.

Yet after so many months of staring at a broken Respite Bath, the simple fact that something tangible might be obtained felt enormous.

Mara softened her voice.

“Hana spoke with Mei Takahara again.”

Kade looked up.

“What did she say?”

“That the original technical drawings appear consistent with the older equipment series installed at Horizon.”

He nodded.

“And the incompatibilities?”

“Several. Hana is preparing a list of required modifications.”

The Commander considered that.

Then asked:

“Any reason to cancel the collection?”

“Not from Engineering.”

Kade exhaled.

“Good.”

Mara placed another document on the desk.

“Summit Key has also agreed to a conditional escort rendezvous.”

His expression sharpened.

“Conditional?”

“Their task group will meet our convoy at the designated eastern approaches provided weather, enemy activity, and local readiness permit. They've assigned a liaison and secondary meeting area.”

Kade picked up the paper.

Read it.

Then read it again.

It wasn't a promise that the entire route would be safe.

No sensible officer would make one.

But it was a real commitment.

A planned transfer of responsibility.

A recognition that Horizon could not afford to send an escort all the way to Resolute Shoals without considering the cost of leaving its own waters unprotected.

He looked toward Mara.

“And Resolute?”

“They'll provide an escort for the final approach when Sakura reaches their assigned reception area.”

Kade nodded slowly.

“So she doesn't have to cross the whole ocean alone.”

“No.”

“Nor do we have to leave every escort ship away for the full voyage.”

“Correct.”

For a moment, the Commander looked almost relieved.

Then he frowned.

“Of course, that means we're trusting other people to do their jobs.”

Mara raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

He sighed.

“Terrifying concept.”

The Chief folded her arms.

“You do realize that's what you did when you asked me to run Operations while you slept?”

Kade looked toward her.

For several seconds, he was silent.

Then he pointed toward the document.

“Let's remain focused on the mission.”

Mara smiled faintly.

“Of course, Commander.”

 

The operation had taken several days to prepare.

Not because Sakura was reluctant.

Quite the opposite.

The transport girl had been ready to sail approximately thirty seconds after Kade agreed to consider her proposal.

He had spent much of the following day convincing her that possessing enthusiasm did not magically refill fuel tanks, produce ammunition, or clear damaged escort vessels for deployment.

Sakura had accepted this with reasonable grace.

Mostly.

She'd still appeared in his office twice carrying revised loading diagrams.

Once with an additional list of medical requirements.

And once with an updated cargo-pontoon plan that Corwin Hale had described as ambitious, which Kade had learned was the logistics officer's polite way of saying please stop inventing new ways to give me headaches.

Now the proposal was finally approaching something that resembled a workable naval operation.

The course ran eastward from Horizon toward Summit Key, then onward toward Resolute Shoals.

Its precise track would depend on the weather, available friendly patrol coverage, reported Blackwake movements, and the rendezvous instructions issued by the supporting commands.

There would be no unnecessary detours through contested waters.

No independent pursuit of enemy contacts.

No attempts to investigate suspicious islands.

And absolutely no deviations to collect interesting wreckage simply because someone happened to notice it.

Kade had included that last instruction himself.

Several people had complained that it was unnecessarily specific.

He'd pointed toward his fleet's history of impulsive curiosity.

Nobody argued afterward.

Mara placed the final readiness sheet before him.

“The proposed escorts have been examined.”

Kade looked down.

Five combat-capable Keelborn.

One battleship.

One antiaircraft cruiser.

Three destroyers.

Every one of them had received medical and engineering review.

Not all were in perfect condition.

After the night battle, perfect condition had become an increasingly theoretical concept.

But the relevant systems were certified for the mission.

The escort composition had also come from Sakura herself.

That had been Kade's decision.

He had told her to choose the people she believed would protect her properly.

Then he'd reserved the right to refuse anyone who wasn't medically or mechanically ready.

Sakura had taken that responsibility seriously.

Very seriously.

Kade looked toward the first name.

And smiled faintly.

“She's going to make a strange little fleet.”

Mara glanced toward the paper.

“An effective one, hopefully.”

The Commander nodded.

“That's the important part.”

He reached for his pen.

For several seconds, he remained still.

Then he signed.

KADE BHER

COMMANDER, HORIZON ATOLL

The pen scratched across the paper.

He set it down.

And stared at his signature.

It was done.

Not merely proposed.

Not merely discussed.

The voyage had been authorized.

The departure still depended on the final pre-sailing checks, but Sakura now had permission to take Senko Maru out of Horizon's lagoon and begin the long journey toward Resolute Shoals.

Kade exhaled.

Then looked toward Mara.

“Tell her.”

The Chief nodded.

“She's waiting outside.”

He blinked.

For a moment, he stared.

Then sighed.

“Of course she is.”

 

Sakura Nagase entered so quickly that Kade suspected she'd been standing with her ear against the door.

He chose not to investigate.

The transport girl stopped before his desk.

Her brown eyes moved toward the signed order.

Then toward his face.

For a moment, she didn't speak.

Kade regarded her.

“Sakura.”

“Yes, Commander?”

“You have authorization.”

The girl froze.

For one second, her expression remained completely still.

Then her eyes widened.

“Really?”

Kade raised an eyebrow.

“Unless someone has forged my signature with an unusually accurate imitation of my terrible handwriting.”

Sakura looked toward the document.

Her hands moved to her mouth.

For several seconds, she simply stared.

Then she lowered them.

A smile spread across her face.

Wide.

Almost disbelieving.

“Thank you!”

Kade raised one hand.

“Conditions.”

She straightened immediately.

“Yes.”

“Medical clearances remain binding.”

“Of course.”

“Engineering restrictions remain binding.”

“Yes.”

“Summit Key's escort handoff must be confirmed before you leave the outer defensive corridor.”

“Yes.”

“And if your escort commander decides the route is unsafe, you follow her instructions.”

Sakura nodded firmly.

“Absolutely.”

Kade considered that.

Then looked toward Mara.

“Suspiciously cooperative.”

The Chief's mouth twitched.

Sakura laughed.

Then she reached toward the document.

“May I?”

Kade nodded.

“It's yours.”

She accepted the authorization with both hands.

For a moment, she held it as though it were something delicate.

Then her expression softened.

“Thank you, Kade.”

He looked toward her.

The transport girl continued.

“I won't waste this chance.”

Kade's expression became serious.

“I know.”

A pause.

“But I want you to remember something.”

She nodded.

He met her eyes.

“This mission is successful if you bring yourself and your people home safely.”

Sakura glanced toward the cargo list.

“But the supplies—”

“Are important.”

He nodded.

“Very important.”

Then his voice softened.

“Not more important than the girls carrying them.”

For several seconds, Sakura remained quiet.

Then she slowly nodded.

“Yes, Commander.”

Kade smiled faintly.

“Good.”

He leaned back.

“Now.”

Sakura raised an eyebrow.

“Yes?”

“Show me who you've chosen.”

 

II. The Battleship Who Wasn't Scarlett

Harper was already waiting at the inspection pier when Sakura arrived.

The South Dakota-class battleship stood beside her equipment with her sleeves rolled up, studying a mechanical clearance sheet.

Her dark auburn hair was tied back in a short, practical tail.

She had gray eyes.

A strong, composed expression.

And the sort of posture that suggested she could spend several hours listening to someone complain without being particularly impressed.

Her rigging stood beside her.

Heavy.

Compact.

Armored.

Three triple sixteen-inch gun turrets, with the familiar South Dakota-class arrangement.

Two forward.

One aft.

Five-inch dual-purpose mounts distributed around the supporting structures.

An extensive array of antiaircraft weapons.

And the dense, heavily protected machinery that made her class formidable in a sustained surface engagement.

She was distinctly separate from Scarlett Hayes.

Scarlett had been among the principal defenders during the night battle, absorbing damage and directing the withdrawal of the battered heavy line.

Harper had fought in the same general defense but received less serious damage to her core machinery.

She had nevertheless spent several days undergoing inspections.

A damaged secondary mount had required repair.

An external armored fitting had been replaced.

Her ammunition supply had been reconciled and replenished.

And the medical staff had refused to clear her until they were satisfied that the cumulative shock of the engagement had not concealed a serious injury.

Now she was ready.

Not eager, exactly.

But ready.

Sakura approached.

“Harper?”

The battleship looked up.

Her expression softened.

“Sakura.”

The transport girl smiled.

“You heard?”

Harper held up the clearance sheet.

“Apparently I've been selected for a vacation.”

Sakura laughed.

“Not quite.”

The battleship raised an eyebrow.

“No?”

“More of a business trip.”

Harper considered that.

Then glanced toward her sixteen-inch turrets.

“Excellent. I'll bring the office equipment.”

Sakura laughed harder.

The battleship smiled faintly.

Then stepped closer.

For a moment, her expression became serious.

“You're sure you want me?”

Sakura blinked.

“Of course.”

Harper looked toward the western maintenance district.

“Scarlett's more experienced with some of the command procedures.”

“I know.”

“And Adelheid has excellent long-range gunnery discipline.”

“I know that too.”

The transport girl looked toward Harper.

Then smiled.

“But Scarlett's still recovering.”

Harper nodded.

“Yes.”

“And Adelheid's propulsion machinery needs more work.”

“Yes.”

Sakura continued.

“You're cleared.”

The battleship regarded her.

“And?”

The transport girl smiled warmly.

“And I trust you.”

Harper went still.

For several seconds, she didn't answer.

Then her expression softened.

She lowered the clearance sheet.

“You do?”

Sakura nodded.

“Of course.”

A pause.

“You're steady. You don't panic. You don't spend ammunition just because something moved on the horizon.”

Harper raised an eyebrow.

“That's a surprisingly specific compliment.”

The transport girl grinned.

“And you're very good at telling people when they're being stupid.”

The battleship sighed.

“An increasingly valuable skill.”

Sakura laughed.

Then continued.

“I don't need the biggest gun group Horizon can assemble.”

She looked toward Senko Maru's cargo machinery in the distance.

“I need someone who'll keep us together.”

Harper studied her.

For a long moment, she remained quiet.

Then she nodded.

“All right.”

Sakura's smile widened.

The battleship offered her hand.

“I'll escort you.”

Sakura took it.

“Thank you.”

Harper's expression became firm.

“One condition.”

The transport girl blinked.

“What?”

“If I order you to turn away from a threat, you turn.”

Sakura nodded immediately.

“Yes.”

“No arguments about valuable cargo.”

“Yes.”

“No sudden decisions to approach an unknown vessel because it might have something useful aboard.”

Sakura hesitated.

Harper narrowed her eyes.

The transport girl sighed.

“Yes.”

The battleship smiled faintly.

“Good.”

She released Sakura's hand.

“Then let's get your cargo ship across the Pacific.”

 

Adelheid was not entirely pleased with the decision.

That was not because she objected to Harper.

She respected the South Dakota-class girl's capabilities.

Nor because she thought Sakura's mission was unnecessary.

The component inventory had reached the Bayern-class battleship, and even Adelheid had admitted that the restoration equipment was a compelling reason to consider the voyage.

Her objection was more personal.

She would have liked to go.

Unfortunately, her damaged rigging disagreed.

The fifteen-inch turrets remained operational.

That was not the problem.

The portside propulsion support damaged during the Princess engagement had not yet passed unrestricted trials.

Several secondary mounts were undergoing work.

A damaged armored structure had to be removed before the engineers could properly inspect the mechanisms beneath it.

And Irena's medical report contained enough restrictions to make the Bayern-class girl profoundly unhappy.

Sakura found her in the heavy repair bay.

Adelheid stood beside the partially dismantled machinery with her arms folded.

A mechanic was explaining something about a bearing assembly.

The battleship's expression suggested the bearing had personally offended her.

Sakura waited until the explanation ended.

Then approached.

“Adelheid?”

The silver-blonde girl turned.

“Sakura.”

The transport girl smiled.

“I wanted to tell you something.”

Adelheid raised an eyebrow.

“The convoy?”

Sakura nodded.

“Yes.”

The battleship looked toward her.

For a moment, her expression softened.

“You've received permission?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

The transport girl blinked.

“You're not upset?”

Adelheid considered that.

Then looked toward her damaged rigging.

“I dislike being unable to perform my duties.”

Sakura nodded.

“I understand.”

“However…”

The Bayern-class girl paused.

Then continued.

“Medical has not cleared me for prolonged sea operations.”

She looked toward Sakura.

“And a transport escort is not an appropriate occasion to disregard medical instructions.”

Sakura smiled faintly.

“That's very sensible.”

Adelheid's expression became dry.

“Please do not sound so surprised.”

The transport girl laughed.

Then explained her selection.

Harper as heavy escort.

An Atlanta-class cruiser for antiaircraft protection.

Three destroyers for screening, submarine detection, and close defense.

Adelheid listened.

For several seconds, she remained thoughtful.

Then nodded.

“Appropriate.”

Sakura blinked.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

The battleship looked toward the maintenance bay.

“My main guns would be useful against an enemy capital ship. But that is not the only danger your convoy faces.”

Sakura nodded.

“Right.”

“Aircraft and submarines are more likely to threaten an isolated transport before a battleship engagement develops.”

The younger woman listened carefully.

Adelheid continued.

“An Atlanta-class escort provides concentrated antiaircraft protection. Three destroyers offer screening flexibility.”

A pause.

“And Harper is a capable heavy escort.”

Sakura smiled.

“That's what I thought.”

The Bayern-class girl regarded her.

Then her expression softened.

“You chose well.”

For a moment, Sakura seemed delighted.

Then Adelheid added:

“Provided you actually listen to them.”

The transport girl sighed.

“There it is.”

The battleship raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Everybody keeps telling me that.”

Adelheid nodded solemnly.

“A disturbing number of people apparently consider it necessary.”

Sakura laughed.

And, despite herself, Adelheid almost smiled.

 

III. The Girls Who Would Keep the Sky Clear

Noelle was waiting beside the antiaircraft maintenance pier with a notebook in one hand and a half-eaten apple in the other.

That was the first thing Sakura noticed.

The second was the Atlanta-class cruiser's expression.

She looked extremely busy.

Not unhappy.

Not particularly stressed.

Just occupied in the manner of someone who had approximately twelve things left to accomplish and considered conversation a potentially dangerous interruption.

Noelle had short honey-blonde hair, blue eyes, and a habit of wearing a pencil tucked behind her ear.

Her rigging was considerably lighter than Harper's battleship equipment, but no less complicated in its own way.

Five-inch twin dual-purpose gun mounts.

Light antiaircraft weapons.

Directors and fire-control equipment.

A machinery arrangement built around defending other vessels from aircraft while retaining useful surface-combat capability.

Noelle had spent most of the night battle protecting the inner defensive approaches.

She'd taken a near miss and expended a substantial portion of her ammunition, but the damage had been limited to external fittings and one minor director fault.

Those had been repaired.

Her medical inspection had also gone well.

She was tired.

But physically fit for duty.

Sakura stopped beside her.

“Noelle?”

The cruiser looked up.

“Sakura.”

Then she glanced toward the folder in the transport girl's hands.

“Oh.”

Sakura blinked.

“Oh?”

Noelle took another bite of her apple.

“You want an escort.”

The transport girl stared.

Then laughed.

“How did you know?”

“Everyone knows.”

“Everyone?”

The Atlanta-class girl nodded.

“Everyone.”

Sakura sighed.

“Wonderful.”

Noelle closed her notebook.

Then looked toward Senko Maru's berth.

“Resolute Shoals?”

“Yes.”

“Summit Key rendezvous?”

“Yes.”

“Long-range supply transport, probable Blackwake submarine risk, unknown aviation activity, and an escort force that has to maintain enough ammunition to get home?”

Sakura blinked.

Then slowly nodded.

“…Yes.”

Noelle considered that.

Then looked down at her notebook.

“Thought so.”

The transport girl stared.

For a moment, she seemed uncertain whether to be impressed or concerned.

Then she asked:

“Have you already planned the mission?”

Noelle looked up.

“Only the parts I'm likely to be responsible for.”

Sakura laughed.

The cruiser smiled faintly.

Then her expression became serious.

“Calla's staying?”

Sakura nodded.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Noelle looked toward the repair district.

“Her ammunition-handling equipment still needs attention.”

“I know.”

“And she's been on too many continuous antiaircraft watches.”

Sakura nodded.

“Noelle…”

The Atlanta-class girl looked back.

“Mm?”

“Will you come?”

For several seconds, Noelle was quiet.

Then she glanced toward her equipment.

The twin five-inch turrets rested in their safe positions.

The repaired director assembly had passed its latest alignment check.

The machinery was ready.

Noelle looked toward the harbor.

Then back at Sakura.

“Yes.”

The transport girl's face brightened.

“Really?”

“Of course.”

Noelle raised an eyebrow.

“You need someone to keep the sky from becoming unpleasant.”

Sakura laughed.

“I think that describes the job.”

“And someone to tell Harper when she's trying to solve an aircraft problem with sixteen-inch guns.”

The transport girl covered her mouth.

The cruiser shrugged.

“It's a professional responsibility.”

Sakura laughed harder.

Then Noelle became serious again.

“I've read Aaron's preliminary aviation brief.”

The smile slowly faded from Sakura's face.

“The new Blackwake aircraft?”

“Yes.”

Noelle looked toward the sky.

For a moment, her expression tightened.

“We don't know all their attack profiles yet. Some appear configured for low-altitude approaches. Others may carry detection equipment that helps them find targets at night.”

Sakura nodded.

Noelle continued.

“I can't promise they'll never get through.”

The transport girl looked toward her.

“I know.”

“But I can make sure we're watching properly.”

Sakura's smile softened.

“That's what I need.”

Noelle nodded.

“Then I'm coming.”

She took another bite of her apple.

Sakura stared.

For several seconds, the cruiser regarded her.

Then raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“That's never true.”

Sakura smiled.

“I just expected you to make this difficult.”

Noelle considered that.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Then looked down at her notebook.

“Would you like me to?”

“No!”

“Excellent.”

The cruiser smiled faintly.

Then resumed checking her equipment.

 

The destroyers were more complicated.

Not because Sakura had difficulty finding three girls willing to escort her.

That would have been easy.

Far too easy.

Several destroyers had already expressed interest in joining the mission.

A few wanted to see Summit Key.

Others had never traveled as far as Resolute Shoals.

One had asked whether Hawaiian beaches were really as beautiful as the old promotional artwork suggested.

Another had expressed a strong interest in finding a functioning bakery.

Kade had declined to authorize any escort selection process based primarily on access to pastries.

Sakura had reluctantly agreed.

The actual requirements were less entertaining.

She needed girls who could maintain a screening formation across extended distances.

Girls with reliable detection equipment.

Girls capable of countering submarines.

And girls who understood that protecting a transport meant remaining near the transport, even when an attractive enemy target appeared just outside the assigned patrol sector.

Her first choice was Emi.

The Benson-class destroyer was sitting near the maintenance dock, examining a supply inventory with a technician.

She looked up when Sakura approached.

For a moment, her expression brightened.

“Sakura!”

The transport girl smiled.

“Emi.”

The destroyer glanced toward the folder.

Then toward Sakura's face.

Her smile became suspicious.

“Uh-oh.”

Sakura blinked.

“What?”

“That's the expression of someone who's about to ask me for a favor.”

Sakura laughed.

“Maybe.”

Emi folded the inventory sheet.

“Does it involve paperwork?”

“A little.”

“Danger?”

“Possibly.”

“Long hours?”

“Definitely.”

Emi sighed.

“Terrible sales pitch.”

Sakura smiled.

“Resolute Shoals.”

The destroyer stopped.

For a moment, she stared.

Then her expression changed.

“That's far.”

“I know.”

“Very far.”

“I know.”

Emi considered that.

Then looked toward her repaired rigging.

One of her gun mounts had undergone servicing after the battle.

The propulsion system had been inspected.

The torpedo equipment was functional, but her intended convoy role would emphasize escort duties rather than aggressive surface attack.

She'd also completed her medical evaluation.

Physically, she was cleared.

Sakura knew that.

She'd checked before approaching.

Emi looked toward her.

“Who else?”

“Harper. Noelle. Alice.”

The destroyer nodded slowly.

“Good choices.”

Sakura hesitated.

“And one more.”

Emi raised an eyebrow.

“Who?”

Sakura told her.

For several seconds, the Benson-class girl remained quiet.

Then she looked toward the harbor.

Her expression became thoughtful.

Finally, she asked:

“Has Kade agreed?”

“Provisional approval, pending her final clearance and acceptance.”

Emi nodded.

Then looked back at Sakura.

“Okay.”

The transport girl blinked.

“Okay?”

Emi smiled faintly.

“If she's willing, I'm willing.”

Sakura's shoulders loosened.

“Thank you.”

The destroyer shrugged.

“Besides…”

She looked toward the protected recovery facility beyond the maintenance buildings.

For a moment, her expression softened.

“Kiri helped bring one of the girls home.”

Sakura nodded.

“I know.”

Emi swallowed.

“And then her own Pendant came back on the tide.”

The transport girl lowered her eyes.

For several seconds, neither spoke.

Then Emi continued.

“If those parts at Resolute might help…”

She stopped.

Her voice tightened.

Sakura waited.

Finally, Emi looked up.

“I'd like to be part of bringing them here.”

Sakura smiled gently.

“Then let's bring them home.”

Emi nodded.

“Yes.”

 

Alice Lasky was found in the acoustic analysis room.

This surprised no one.

The former-player Allen M. Sumner-class destroyer sat before a waveform display with her headphones on, examining recordings from one of the new Blackwake submarine sightings.

Her green eyes moved carefully across the screen.

A cup of tea sat beside her.

Untouched.

A technician stood nearby, waiting patiently for her to finish listening.

Sakura stopped at the doorway.

For several seconds, she watched.

Then knocked gently.

Alice raised one hand without looking up.

“Give me a second.”

Sakura nodded.

The Sumner-class girl adjusted the audio.

Listened.

Replayed a short section.

Then frowned.

“That's not cavitation.”

The technician leaned closer.

“What?”

Alice pointed toward the waveform.

“There's another periodic component underneath it.”

The man examined the display.

She continued.

“Could be some kind of auxiliary machinery. But the repetition is too regular for the surrounding noise.”

The technician nodded.

Alice made a note.

Then removed her headphones.

And finally looked toward the doorway.

“Sakura?”

The transport girl smiled.

“Hi.”

Alice blinked.

Then glanced toward the folder.

“Oh.”

Sakura sighed.

“Does everyone know?”

The destroyer smiled faintly.

“Pretty much.”

Sakura folded her arms.

“Wonderful.”

Alice looked toward her.

Then toward the distant harbor.

“Resolute Shoals?”

The transport girl nodded.

“Yes.”

The Sumner-class girl considered that.

“Long-range convoy. Submarine risk. Unfamiliar Blackwake surface signatures. Probably a lot of listening.”

Sakura smiled.

“Exactly.”

Alice nodded.

For a moment, she looked toward the waveform display.

Then she removed the headphones completely.

“I'll come.”

Sakura blinked.

“You don't want to hear the rest?”

“I know why you need me.”

The transport girl's expression softened.

Alice continued.

“But I have one concern.”

Sakura straightened.

“What?”

“Horizon.”

The Sumner-class girl looked toward the western sea beyond the window.

“I'm one of the people who understands the acoustic signatures we've been tracking.”

Sakura nodded slowly.

“I know.”

“If I leave, someone else needs to handle the monitoring.”

The transport girl considered that.

Then looked toward the technician.

He raised his hand slightly.

Alice smiled faintly.

“We've been training additional analysts.”

The man nodded.

“And the coastal hydrophone network remains operational.”

Sakura looked toward Alice.

“So…?”

The destroyer considered the issue.

Then answered:

“If Kade approves the temporary watch rotation, yes.”

Sakura smiled.

“Really?”

Alice nodded.

“Yes.”

A pause.

“Besides, if the new Blackwake submarines are watching the main supply routes, I'd rather be there to hear them before they fire.”

The transport girl's expression softened.

“Thank you.”

Alice stood.

Then picked up her headphones.

For several seconds, she regarded them.

Finally, she smiled faintly.

“Guess I'm taking these on vacation.”

Sakura laughed.

Alice looked toward her.

“Does the transport have somewhere quiet to sleep?”

The question surprised Sakura.

Then her face brightened.

“Actually…”

She opened the folder.

Turned to the cargo-pontoon diagrams.

Alice leaned closer.

For a moment, her eyes widened.

“Oh.”

Sakura grinned.

“Exactly.”

 

The fifth combatant was Kagerō.

And that was the selection that caused the longest conversation.

The Kagerō-class destroyer had once served under the Pacific Campaign Authority.

She had been part of the force sent to seize Horizon.

Then she'd seen what the Authority was willing to do.

She had refused to continue participating.

When the Blackwake arrived, she joined the emergency defense.

She fought beside girls she'd been ordered to treat as enemies only hours earlier.

And during the night battle, she'd watched La Galissonnière sink.

Kagerō had recovered the French cruiser's Pendant.

She had brought it back.

But the memory of the sinking had not left her.

Now she was sitting in a quiet section of the rehabilitation courtyard, examining a small maintenance checklist.

Her rigging had passed its structural inspection.

The damage from the night battle had been comparatively limited.

The medical staff had cleared her for duty after several days of rest and observation.

But technical clearance wasn't the only consideration.

Kagerō had not yet completed all the administrative procedures associated with formally leaving the PCA.

Her provisional status allowed her to assist Horizon under supervision.

It did not automatically grant her unrestricted access to every operation.

And an escort voyage carrying important restoration equipment would require trust.

Sakura approached carefully.

“Kagerō?”

The destroyer looked up.

For a moment, she seemed surprised.

Then nodded.

“Sakura.”

“Can we talk?”

Kagerō glanced toward the empty bench beside her.

“Of course.”

The transport girl sat.

For several seconds, neither spoke.

Then Sakura looked toward the maintenance checklist.

“How are your repairs?”

“Finished.”

“Medical?”

“Cleared.”

Sakura nodded.

The destroyer looked toward her.

For a moment, her expression became curious.

Then she asked:

“Is this about the convoy?”

Sakura smiled faintly.

“Yes.”

Kagerō lowered her eyes.

For several seconds, she remained quiet.

Then whispered:

“I heard.”

Sakura looked toward her.

The former PCA destroyer continued.

“Resolute Shoals.”

“Yes.”

“Parts for the Respite Bath.”

Sakura nodded.

“Possibly.”

Kagerō looked toward the sea.

For a long moment, she said nothing.

Then she spoke.

“La Galissonnière's Pendant is in the recovery room.”

Sakura lowered her eyes.

“I know.”

The destroyer's fingers tightened around the paper.

For a moment, her expression became pained.

“She kept fighting after we stopped following the Authority.”

Sakura listened.

Kagerō continued.

“She didn't trust Horizon at first.”

A pause.

“Neither did I.”

The transport girl nodded slowly.

The destroyer looked down.

“But when the Blackwake came…”

She swallowed.

“She helped us.”

Sakura remained quiet.

Kagerō's voice became smaller.

“And I couldn't save her.”

For several seconds, the courtyard was silent.

Then Sakura spoke gently.

“You recovered her Pendant.”

The destroyer closed her eyes.

“Yes.”

“That mattered.”

Kagerō shook her head.

“I know.”

A pause.

“I just…”

She stopped.

For a moment, she seemed unable to finish.

Then she looked toward Sakura.

“I'd like to do something useful.”

The transport girl's expression softened.

She took a breath.

Then asked:

“Will you escort me?”

Kagerō stared.

For several seconds, she didn't move.

Then she slowly looked toward Sakura.

“…Me?”

The transport girl nodded.

“Yes.”

The destroyer's expression changed.

Surprise.

Uncertainty.

Then something almost frightened.

“Are you sure?”

Sakura smiled gently.

“I wouldn't ask if I wasn't.”

Kagerō lowered her eyes.

For a long moment, she remained quiet.

Then whispered:

“I was part of the fleet that attacked this island.”

“I know.”

“I fired on Horizon's defenders.”

“I know.”

The destroyer looked up.

Her voice trembled.

“And you want me protecting one of its most important supply missions?”

Sakura held her gaze.

“Yes.”

Kagerō stared.

For a moment, she seemed unable to understand.

Then Sakura continued.

“You also chose to stop.”

The destroyer lowered her eyes.

“You helped fight the Blackwake.”

A pause.

“And you brought La Galissonnière home.”

Kagerō swallowed.

For several seconds, she remained still.

Then she looked toward the sea.

The afternoon light moved across the water.

Somewhere behind them, a repair crew was testing a small propulsion assembly.

The ordinary sounds continued.

Finally, Kagerō spoke.

“I don't know whether everyone here trusts me.”

Sakura considered that.

Then answered honestly.

“Probably not yet.”

The destroyer looked toward her.

Sakura continued.

“Trust takes time.”

A pause.

“But I trust the choice you made when it mattered.”

For several seconds, Kagerō stared.

Then her eyes filled.

Only slightly.

She lowered her head.

And nodded.

“Yes.”

Her voice was barely audible.

“I'll come.”

Sakura smiled.

“Thank you.”

Kagerō looked up.

Her expression became determined.

“I'll protect the convoy.”

The transport girl nodded.

“I know.”

 

Kade reviewed the final escort roster that evening.

OPERATION LANTERN ROAD — HORIZON DEPARTURE GROUP

Sakura Nagase	Senko Maru transport	Cargo and mission lead
Harper	South Dakota-class battleship	Escort commander; heavy defense
Noelle	Atlanta-class light cruiser	Antiaircraft and supporting fire
Alice Lasky	Allen M. Sumner-class destroyer	Sonar, antisubmarine coordination
Emi	Benson-class destroyer	Close escort and surface screen
Kagerō	Kagerō-class destroyer	Outer screen and torpedo defense

All six personnel must hold medical and engineering clearance before departure. Harper commands tactical protection; Sakura directs cargo operations and the transport's handling.

He studied the names.

Then looked toward Mara.

“Kagerō.”

The Chief nodded.

“Yes.”

“She's cleared?”

“Medical and Engineering have both signed. Her individual provisional-service review is complete for this assignment. She volunteered without conditions.”

Kade considered that.

Then nodded.

“Good.”

Mara looked toward him.

“You don't object?”

The Commander studied the destroyer's record.

The PCA orders she'd originally received.

Her refusal to continue the assault.

The testimony of the girls she'd protected afterward.

The recovery of La Galissonnière's Pendant.

For several seconds, he remained quiet.

Then he answered.

“She made a choice.”

Mara nodded.

“Yes.”

“And if we're going to tell people that choosing to do the right thing matters, it has to matter when someone actually does it.”

The Chief regarded him.

Then slowly nodded.

“Agreed.”

Kade lowered his eyes toward the escort roster.

He thought of all six girls.

A transport.

A battleship.

An antiaircraft cruiser.

Three destroyers.

Not the largest task force Horizon had ever assembled.

Not its strongest.

But balanced.

Sensible.

And composed of girls who understood why the mission mattered.

He signed the final personnel authorization.

Then handed it to Mara.

“Provided the last checks are clean, they sail tomorrow.”

The Chief accepted the paper.

For a moment, she looked toward the harbor.

Then nodded.

“Understood.”

Kade leaned back.

His expression became tired.

“Let's bring something good home for once.”

  

IV. Senko Maru

The transport girl's rigging did not resemble a battleship.

That was obvious even before Sakura began activating it.

There were no great sixteen-inch gun turrets rising above her shoulders.

No towering armored gun housings.

No aircraft deck.

No long banks of torpedo tubes ready to turn an unfortunate enemy cruiser into a spectacular underwater engineering problem.

Instead, Senko Maru's equipment seemed almost modest when viewed from the front.

A compact propulsion-and-control assembly fitted around Sakura's lower body.

Reinforced structures extending behind her waist and shoulders.

Several small defensive gun mounts.

Navigation equipment.

Cargo-handling control systems.

And a series of articulated connections reaching backward toward the water.

It was only when somebody followed those connections that the true size of her equipment became apparent.

Three cargo pontoons rested alongside the service pier.

Long, broad floating structures.

Each carried enclosed cargo compartments beneath a reinforced upper deck.

Their armored edges were comparatively light, designed to protect against weather, debris, and minor impacts rather than battleship shells.

Mechanical connecting arms and flexible towing assemblies linked them to Sakura's primary rigging.

Auxiliary maneuvering equipment helped the units remain aligned during turns.

They were not independent ships.

Nor were they ordinary barges requiring separate tug crews.

They were part of Senko Maru's transport system—modular cargo structures integrated with Sakura's propulsion controls and designed to trail behind her as she moved across the sea.

From the pier, they looked almost like a tiny floating village.

Sakura thought that was rather charming.

Hana thought it looked like several months of maintenance work waiting to happen.

Corwin thought it looked like a complicated argument about cargo distribution.

Kade thought it looked like something that ought to come with a very long safety manual.

All four opinions were correct.

 

The pontoons were capable of carrying substantial cargo.

But Sakura had insisted on another feature.

Rest accommodation.

Not luxurious accommodation.

Not something that would persuade a wealthy passenger to book a holiday.

Just small, enclosed spaces where exhausted Keelborn could sleep during a long voyage without remaining continuously exposed on the water.

The first pontoon contained a compact rest cabin.

Four narrow bunks.

Fold-down tables.

Secure storage for personal effects.

A small preparation counter for food and hot drinks.

Freshwater tanks.

Ventilation.

An emergency medical locker.

And a properly enclosed sanitation compartment.

The second contained two additional bunks and a small equipment room configured for damage-control supplies and emergency communications.

The third was principally cargo space, although its sheltered maintenance compartment could accommodate personnel for short periods if necessary.

Every compartment had watertight doors, emergency lighting, ventilation arrangements, and escape provisions.

The pontoons were designed to remain manageable in ordinary sea conditions.

They were not immune to rough weather.

They could not serve as perfectly comfortable homes in a heavy storm.

And the girls would have to secure themselves properly before resting while Sakura maneuvered.

But on a long voyage, particularly one conducted at convoy speeds, they offered something that ordinary Keelborn equipment often lacked.

A place to stop.

A place to sit.

A place to sleep.

Somewhere that did not require maintaining a full combat posture every minute of the day.

Sakura stood on the pier, watching as a technician inspected one of the articulated connections.

“Forward coupling secured!” he called.

Another technician checked the second pontoon.

“Hydraulic response normal!”

A third called from the stern.

“Auxiliary maneuvering tests complete!”

Sakura nodded.

Her eyes brightened.

“Thank you!”

The chief engineer approached with a clipboard.

He was a broad-shouldered man whose expression suggested that he had personally witnessed too many people attempt to argue with machinery.

“Sakura.”

She straightened.

“Yes?”

“Let's go over the limitations.”

The transport girl smiled.

“Again?”

He regarded her.

She sighed.

“Right. Again.”

He pointed toward the pontoons.

“Your aft structures respond correctly under normal turns. In rough weather, reduce speed before changing course. Do not attempt a destroyer-style emergency maneuver.”

Sakura nodded.

“Yes.”

“Those connections can flex. They cannot perform miracles.”

“I know.”

“And no one sleeps in an unsecured bunk during high-speed maneuvering.”

“Of course.”

He continued.

“The pontoons have emergency separation fittings, but detaching one is a last resort. You'll lose cargo and possibly expose whoever's aboard to danger.”

Sakura nodded more seriously.

“Understood.”

“Check the personnel list before any emergency release.”

“Yes.”

“And don't overload the aft compartments just because you discover extra space.”

The transport girl hesitated.

The engineer narrowed his eyes.

“Sakura.”

She sighed.

“I won't.”

“Good.”

He looked toward the cargo structures.

For a moment, his expression softened.

Then he nodded.

“They're ready.”

Sakura went still.

“Really?”

The engineer smiled faintly.

“Really.”

The transport girl's face lit up.

She looked toward the three pontoons.

Her little floating homes.

Her cargo holds.

Her place in Horizon's fleet.

Then she drew a slow breath.

“Okay.”

The engineer raised an eyebrow.

“Okay?”

Sakura smiled.

“Let's load them.”

 

The outward cargo was deliberately limited.

That was another detail Sakura had initially disliked.

She was a transport girl.

Her entire purpose was carrying useful things.

The idea of departing Horizon with most of her cargo capacity unfilled felt almost offensive.

Corwin had explained the situation three times.

The major cargo was waiting at Resolute Shoals.

If Sakura filled her holds before departure, she'd either have to unload those supplies at Summit Key or sacrifice space needed for the return shipment.

Neither made sense.

So the outbound cargo consisted primarily of voyage provisions, equipment required by the escort force, agreed transfer items, protective packaging for the restoration components, and a carefully documented set of materials Horizon was exchanging through the supporting bases.

The heavier compartments remained available for the return load.

Ammunition was stored according to its handling requirements.

Fuel containers were secured separately.

Medical supplies were protected from contamination and excessive temperature changes.

The precision-equipment crates were fitted with shock-absorbing mounts.

And the compartment intended for the Respite Bath components was left deliberately empty.

Its interior had been prepared with adjustable supports and padded securing points.

A clean space waiting for machinery nobody at Horizon had yet seen in person.

Sakura walked through that compartment before departure.

For several seconds, she stood among the empty fixtures.

Then ran her fingers lightly along one of the padded supports.

She imagined the coupling manifold resting there.

The control modules.

The Pendant interface cradle.

Pieces of a machine that might finally let Hana and the others begin serious reconstruction work.

Her expression softened.

“I'll bring them back.”

She spoke quietly.

Not as a grand vow.

Not to an audience.

Just a promise to herself.

Then she turned and returned to the pier.

 

The other girls came to inspect the accommodation spaces later that afternoon.

Harper entered first.

The South Dakota-class battleship had temporarily secured her own rigging at the adjoining berth, leaving herself free to walk along the pontoon deck.

She ducked slightly beneath the cabin doorway.

Then looked around.

For several seconds, she remained quiet.

Finally, she spoke.

“Huh.”

Sakura raised an eyebrow.

“Huh?”

Harper examined the bunks.

The safety rails.

The storage lockers.

The little table.

Then looked toward the transport girl.

“This is better than I expected.”

Sakura smiled.

“Thank you.”

The battleship approached one of the bunks.

Pressed a hand against the mattress.

Tested the secure fittings.

Then glanced toward the ventilation.

“Not bad.”

Sakura beamed.

Noelle entered behind her.

The Atlanta-class girl immediately began checking the emergency lighting.

Then the communications panel.

Then the location of the fire extinguisher.

Sakura watched.

For a moment, she seemed uncertain whether she was being inspected or invaded.

Noelle opened the medical locker.

Checked the contents.

Then nodded.

“Acceptable.”

Sakura smiled weakly.

“I'm glad.”

Alice entered next.

The Sumner-class girl looked around.

Then noticed the small sleeping compartment.

Her expression changed.

“Oh.”

Sakura smiled.

“Nice?”

Alice approached the nearest bunk.

Sat carefully.

Then leaned back.

For several seconds, she remained completely motionless.

Finally, she closed her eyes.

“This is wonderful.”

Harper raised an eyebrow.

“It's a bunk.”

Alice opened one eye.

“Exactly.”

The battleship considered that.

Then nodded slowly.

“Fair point.”

Emi appeared in the doorway.

She looked toward Alice.

Then the bunks.

Then Sakura.

Her eyes widened.

“Wait.”

Sakura smiled.

“What?”

“We can actually sleep here?”

“Yes.”

“While we're at sea?”

“Yes.”

“With somebody else on watch?”

“That is the plan.”

Emi stared.

For several seconds, she seemed unable to believe her good fortune.

Then she walked directly to the nearest unoccupied bunk and sat.

“Oh, that's beautiful.”

Harper folded her arms.

“You haven't even taken your boots off.”

Emi looked up.

“I'm appreciating the concept.”

The battleship sighed.

Noelle made a note in her book.

Sakura laughed.

Then Kagerō entered.

The former PCA destroyer stopped just inside the doorway.

For a moment, she looked around.

The small room.

The bunks.

The storage.

The little table.

The carefully arranged emergency supplies.

It was nothing extraordinary.

But there was something deeply comforting about its scale.

A place built to hold people.

Not merely weapons.

Sakura noticed her expression.

“Kagerō?”

The destroyer looked up.

For a moment, she seemed surprised.

Then smiled faintly.

“It's nice.”

The transport girl's expression softened.

“Thank you.”

Kagerō looked toward the table.

Her eyes lingered on the six secured cups waiting in their holders.

Then she spoke quietly.

“You planned a place for everyone.”

Sakura nodded.

“Of course.”

The destroyer lowered her eyes.

For several seconds, she remained still.

Then whispered:

“That's good.”

Sakura approached.

The other girls had begun discussing watch rotations.

Harper was explaining that a battleship did not automatically get the largest bunk.

Emi was arguing that the person who could fall asleep fastest ought to have first choice.

Alice claimed she could demonstrate.

Noelle threatened to record the result as an official readiness exercise.

Their voices filled the small room.

Ordinary voices.

Arguing about an ordinary problem.

Kagerō listened.

For a moment, the tension in her face eased.

Sakura smiled.

“You okay?”

The destroyer nodded.

“Yes.”

A pause.

Then, more quietly:

“I think I am.”

 

That evening, Harper held the first convoy briefing aboard the pontoon.

It wasn't glamorous.

The cabin was a little too small to accommodate all six girls comfortably around the table.

Harper stood.

Noelle sat with her notebook.

Alice occupied one corner.

Emi and Kagerō shared the bench.

Sakura stood beside the wall-mounted route chart.

A small electric fan hummed overhead.

The air smelled of fresh paint, clean fabric, and the food Sakura had insisted on bringing for the meeting.

Harper pointed toward the chart.

“Departure from Horizon's eastern channel. Initial transit under coastal observation. We'll maintain the approved route until the next navigation update.”

The others nodded.

She continued.

“Sakura sets the convoy's sustainable speed. Nobody races ahead just because their propulsion can do more.”

Emi raised her hand.

Harper stared.

“Yes?”

“Hypothetical question.”

“No.”

The Benson-class girl blinked.

“I haven't asked it yet.”

Harper folded her arms.

“Is it about racing ahead?”

Emi lowered her hand.

“…Possibly.”

“Then no.”

Sakura covered her mouth.

Alice smiled faintly.

Kagerō looked toward the floor.

Her shoulders trembled once with suppressed laughter.

Harper continued.

“Assigned watch rotations will allow limited rest, but we maintain continuous coverage.”

Noelle raised her pen.

“Air-watch coordination?”

“You have authority to adjust the antiaircraft screen as required. Notify me before repositioning a unit outside the planned formation.”

Noelle nodded.

Alice leaned forward.

“Acoustic watch?”

“Your primary responsibility. You'll direct local antisubmarine maneuvers if a contact develops, but any aggressive attack requires positive identification and a clear defensive necessity.”

The Sumner girl nodded.

“Understood.”

Harper looked toward Emi.

“Close escort.”

Emi straightened.

“Yes.”

“Stay near Sakura's forward flank. If we need to maneuver, help keep small contacts away from the cargo pontoons.”

“Understood.”

Then Kagerō.

“Outer screen.”

The former PCA destroyer nodded.

“Yes.”

Harper studied her.

For a moment, her expression softened.

“You're not being sent out there to prove anything.”

Kagerō blinked.

The battleship continued.

“You maintain assigned distance, report contacts, and withdraw when ordered.”

The destroyer lowered her eyes.

Then nodded.

“Understood.”

Harper regarded her for another second.

Then moved on.

“Rest schedule.”

Sakura smiled.

Emi immediately leaned forward.

Harper looked toward her.

“No, you don't get to sleep first because you asked first.”

The Benson girl sighed dramatically.

“Oppression.”

Noelle made another note.

Alice looked delighted.

Even Kagerō laughed.

Sakura stood beside the chart, listening.

For several seconds, she simply watched them.

The battleship.

The cruiser.

The destroyers.

Girls who had survived a terrible night.

Girls who had lost friends.

Girls whose equipment had been inspected, repaired, and inspected again.

Now they were arguing over bunks in a transport pontoon.

A tiny floating room that smelled of clean paint and tomorrow's breakfast.

Something warm moved through Sakura's chest.

She looked toward the empty cargo compartment beyond the wall.

Then toward her escorts.

For the first time, the voyage began feeling real.

Not a dream.

Not a desperate request.

A mission.

A properly planned, carefully prepared mission.

With people she trusted.

Sakura smiled.

We're really going.

 

V. The Morning of Departure

The convoy sailed shortly after sunrise.

There was no ceremonial parade.

No marching band.

No grand assembly of every girl at Horizon.

The base still had repairs to complete.

The wounded still needed care.

The coastal defenses still required inspection.

And the Commander had no interest in turning a sensitive naval movement into a spectacle.

But people came to watch.

More than Sakura expected.

Dockyard technicians.

Supply personnel.

A few off-duty sailors.

Medical staff whose shifts had just ended.

Keelborn unable to sortie because of injuries or repair restrictions.

Some stood along the main service pier.

Others watched from the elevated maintenance walkways.

A few simply stopped what they were doing when Senko Maru's cargo pontoons began moving.

The harbor was quiet.

The morning light reflected from the water.

A soft breeze moved across the lagoon.

And six Keelborn prepared to leave.

 

Sakura stood at the head of her rigging, looking toward the harbor entrance.

Her cargo pontoons extended behind her in a neat line.

The articulated connections had passed their final checks.

The auxiliary maneuvering systems were responding.

Cargo locks were secured.

The rest cabins were ready.

Food and freshwater were aboard.

Medical supplies had been inspected.

The emergency equipment had been checked twice.

And the convoy's radio procedures had been confirmed with Horizon Operations.

She took a slow breath.

Then glanced toward the pier.

Kade stood beside Mara.

He wore his command jacket.

His brown hair was as unruly as ever.

The shadows beneath his steel-blue eyes had faded somewhat since the night battle, but he still looked tired.

Sakura wondered whether he would ever look fully rested again.

Then she smiled.

At least he was here.

 

Harper completed the final tactical checks.

Her South Dakota-class machinery rested on the water ahead of the transport.

The main turrets were trained in safe sectors.

Her secondary batteries remained available.

The large armored structures reflected the morning sunlight.

Despite her enormous firepower, she moved carefully.

There was no reason to strain the machinery or disturb the other vessels while leaving harbor.

Noelle occupied the antiaircraft station to the transport's starboard side.

Her Atlanta-class equipment looked almost delicate beside Harper's battleship rigging.

But the cluster of five-inch dual-purpose mounts and supporting weapons made her role unmistakable.

Alice held a position near the forward screening boundary.

Her sonar equipment remained active at controlled settings.

The Sumner girl occasionally adjusted her headphones.

Listening.

Comparing.

Learning the sound of the water beneath the convoy before they moved beyond Horizon's familiar approaches.

Emi waited near Sakura's forward port quarter.

Her Benson-class rigging responded lightly to the swell.

The destroyer looked excited.

And nervous.

Which was probably healthy.

Kagerō occupied the outermost assigned position within the departure formation.

The former PCA destroyer had completed the last readiness inspection shortly before dawn.

Her guns were secured for departure.

Torpedo equipment checked.

Communications tested.

She stood quietly beside the others.

For a moment, she looked toward Horizon's harbor.

The island she'd once been ordered to attack.

The place where she'd surrendered that allegiance.

The place that had accepted La Galissonnière's Pendant without treating it as a prize.

She swallowed.

Then looked toward Sakura.

The transport girl raised one hand.

Kagerō smiled faintly.

And returned the gesture.

 

Kade approached the edge of the pier.

Sakura moved close enough to speak without raising her radio.

For a moment, neither said anything.

Then the Commander looked toward the three cargo pontoons.

“They're enormous.”

Sakura grinned.

“Thank you.”

“That wasn't necessarily a compliment.”

“I've decided it was.”

Kade stared.

For one brief moment, something about the reply reminded him of Aster.

Then he sighed.

“Of course you have.”

Sakura laughed.

Kade looked toward the pontoons again.

The little windows in the rest cabins.

The secured cargo hatches.

The articulated connecting structures.

The small navigation lights.

He had inspected the accommodation design himself the previous day.

He had also read the emergency evacuation procedures.

And asked an uncomfortable number of questions about what happened if the transport was forced into evasive maneuvering while two girls were asleep.

The engineers had answered them.

Carefully.

The answers had not made the ocean harmless.

But they had satisfied the minimum requirements for an authorized voyage.

Kade looked toward Sakura.

“Comfortable?”

She nodded.

“Yes.”

“Supplies?”

“Checked.”

“Water?”

“Checked.”

“Emergency medical kit?”

“Checked.”

“Rendezvous instructions?”

“Confirmed.”

“Backup communications?”

“Tested.”

Kade considered that.

Then raised an eyebrow.

“Any secret passengers?”

Sakura blinked.

“What?”

“Anyone hiding in a cargo compartment because they wanted to see Resolute?”

The transport girl laughed.

“No.”

He studied her.

She smiled innocently.

Kade narrowed his eyes.

“Sakura.”

She sighed.

“Corwin already checked.”

The Commander nodded.

“Good.”

Then his expression softened.

For several seconds, he looked at her.

The transport girl stood beneath the morning sun, surrounded by the machinery she'd chosen before Hour Zero.

A cargo ship.

Not the kind of vessel that attracted crowds of admiring players.

Not the one that appeared at the center of spectacular battle artwork.

But a ship capable of carrying what people needed.

And today, her mission mattered enormously.

Kade took a slow breath.

Then spoke quietly.

“Thank you.”

Sakura blinked.

For a moment, she seemed genuinely surprised.

“What?”

The Commander smiled faintly.

“For doing this.”

Her expression softened.

She looked toward the island.

The maintenance piers.

The medical buildings.

The distant command complex.

Then back at Kade.

“It's my job.”

He shook his head.

“No.”

Sakura went still.

Kade continued.

“It's a job you chose to do.”

A pause.

“That matters.”

For several seconds, she stared.

Then her eyes began shining.

She smiled.

“Thank you, Kade.”

The Commander nodded.

“Bring everyone home.”

Sakura straightened.

“Yes, Commander.”

He raised one finger.

“And don't let Emi talk you into racing a battleship.”

Sakura burst out laughing.

Behind her, Emi's radio crackled.

“I heard that!”

Kade looked toward the Benson-class girl.

“Good!”

The destroyer folded her arms.

Harper slowly turned her head.

For a moment, the battleship looked deeply unimpressed.

Then she spoke over the escort circuit.

“Emi, maintain station.”

The Benson sighed.

“Maintaining station.”

Noelle's voice followed.

“For the record, I also heard the suggestion.”

Alice added:

“I have logged no racing activity. Yet.”

Kagerō made a small choking sound.

She was laughing.

Sakura covered her face.

Kade closed his eyes.

For one moment, the terrible weight of the previous days seemed to loosen.

Just enough.

Then he opened his eyes.

And smiled.

 

Harper raised the convoy channel.

“Lantern Road, Escort Commander. Final readiness report.”

Noelle answered first.

“Air-defense station ready.”

Alice followed.

“Acoustic watch ready.”

Emi:

“Close escort ready.”

Kagerō:

“Outer screen ready.”

Sakura took a breath.

Then raised her microphone.

“Senko Maru ready.”

Harper acknowledged.

Then turned toward the harbor entrance.

“Horizon Operations, Lantern Road. All units ready to depart.”

Victor's voice answered.

“Lantern Road, Operations. Departure authorized. Eastern channel clear. Coastal watch maintaining coverage until outer handoff.”

A pause.

Then Kade reached for the command microphone beside the pier station.

“Lantern Road, Commander Bher.”

The six girls listened.

His voice was calm.

Firm.

And unexpectedly gentle.

“You've got a long voyage ahead of you. Follow your plan. Take care of one another. Don't take unnecessary risks.”

For a moment, he looked toward Sakura.

Then continued.

“Bring our people what they need.”

A pause.

“And bring yourselves home.”

Harper answered.

“Understood, Commander.”

Sakura swallowed.

Then smiled.

“We'll be back.”

Kade nodded.

“I'm counting on it.”

 

The convoy moved.

Slowly at first.

Harper led the departure through the surveyed channel.

Alice ranged forward within the assigned screen.

Emi and Kagerō adjusted their positions.

Noelle maintained station beside the transport.

And Sakura began applying power.

Her Senko Maru rigging responded with a low, steady vibration.

The first cargo pontoon moved.

Then the second.

Then the third.

The articulated connections straightened into their underway positions.

The auxiliary maneuvering systems compensated for the turn.

For one moment, Sakura felt the full weight of her transport machinery settling into motion.

It was different from a destroyer's acceleration.

Not swift.

Not dramatic.

Not a sudden leap across the water.

It was gradual.

Patient.

The movement of a ship designed to carry things over long distances without wasting energy.

She smiled.

There you are.

The pontoons followed.

Their wakes spread outward in gentle lines.

The small cabin windows caught the sunlight.

The convoy crossed the inner harbor.

Then approached the breakwater.

Several dockworkers raised their hands.

Sakura waved back.

So did Emi.

Alice lifted one hand without removing her headphones.

Noelle gave a short, precise wave.

Kagerō hesitated.

Then raised her hand too.

Harper simply nodded toward the pier.

The girls began passing beyond the final harbor markers.

Kade watched.

For several seconds, he remained motionless.

Mara stood beside him.

Neither spoke.

Then the Chief looked toward the cargo pontoons.

“It's a peculiar sight.”

Kade nodded.

“Very.”

“A battleship escorting a floating dormitory.”

The Commander considered that.

Then smiled faintly.

“An armed floating dormitory.”

Mara almost laughed.

The convoy continued east.

Beyond the breakwater, the water became slightly rougher.

Sakura adjusted her speed.

The pontoons settled into their wake positions.

The escort formation widened according to the departure plan.

The six girls became smaller against the enormous blue Pacific.

Kade watched until the transport's white wake began blending into the distance.

For a moment, he imagined the equipment waiting at Resolute.

The protective crates.

The coupling manifold.

The interface cradle.

The possibility of a new beginning for the ruined Respite Bath.

Then he thought of the Blackwake.

The new destroyers.

The submarines.

The uncertain routes.

He swallowed.

Mara noticed.

“Kade.”

He looked toward her.

“Yes?”

“They have a good escort.”

He nodded.

“I know.”

“And a proper plan.”

“Yes.”

She regarded him.

For several seconds, she remained quiet.

Then continued.

“You did everything you reasonably could before letting them go.”

Kade lowered his eyes.

For a moment, he seemed about to argue.

Then he remembered Aster's words.

They made choices.

He looked toward the distant convoy.

Sakura had chosen to go.

Harper had chosen to lead.

Noelle, Alice, Emi, and Kagerō had chosen to protect her.

He had listened.

Checked their readiness.

Provided a plan.

And trusted them.

Kade slowly exhaled.

“Yeah.”

Mara's expression softened.

He looked toward the horizon again.

Then whispered:

“Come home.”

The ships continued toward Summit Key.

Their wakes faded into the sunlight.

And the first long-distance resupply mission of Horizon's new chapter had begun.

 

VI. The Fletcher and the Bollard

There were many things Aster had missed about being able to use her rigging.

The familiar vibration of the propulsion machinery.

The sensation of her stabilizers responding to the water.

The reassuring weight of her five-inch guns.

The ability to move across the surface without relying on somebody else's boat.

The little mechanical sounds that, before Hour Zero, had been nothing more than game effects.

Now they were part of her.

And for what felt like an eternity, she had been forbidden to use them.

Forbidden.

Restricted.

Grounded.

Medically supervised.

Subjected to a parade of increasingly irritating inspections.

Aster had endured the entire process with remarkable grace.

That was her opinion.

Doctor Irena Holt's opinion was somewhat different.

But now—

Now—

She had a clearance certificate.

A real one.

Signed.

Dated.

Stamped.

And containing the words she'd been waiting to read.

AUTHORIZED FOR CONTROLLED RIGGING TRIALS.

Not unrestricted combat.

Not immediate return to full fleet operations.

Not permission to chase Blackwake destroyers across the Pacific.

But controlled trials.

Movement.

Stability.

Limited weapon-system checks under supervision.

And, if those went well, the possibility of gradually resuming ordinary patrol duties.

Aster regarded the document.

Then looked toward Irena.

Then back at the document.

Then toward Irena again.

The doctor folded her arms.

“Aster.”

The Fletcher-class girl smiled.

“Yes?”

“Before you ask—”

“I wasn't going to ask anything.”

Irena raised an eyebrow.

Aster widened her smile.

The doctor sighed.

“You are cleared for supervised trials. Not combat.”

“I know.”

“No high-speed maneuvering.”

“I know.”

“No full-power propulsion runs.”

“Yes.”

“No live-fire exercises until Engineering completes the separate weapons clearance.”

“Yes.”

“And if you experience pain, dizziness, unusual fatigue, or any sign of instability, the test stops immediately.”

Aster nodded vigorously.

“Absolutely.”

Irena studied her.

For several seconds, she remained unimpressed.

Then she continued.

“Do you understand why?”

The destroyer's smile softened.

She looked toward the medical report.

For a moment, she remembered lying in bed.

The pain.

The helplessness.

The sound of the battle alarm while everyone else went out to fight.

Shiori crying beside her.

The names of the girls who never returned.

Aster swallowed.

Then nodded.

“Yes.”

The doctor's expression softened.

For several seconds, she regarded the younger girl.

Then she placed the clearance paper on the table.

“All right.”

Aster went still.

Irena smiled faintly.

“You may proceed to the supervised fitting.”

The Fletcher's eyes widened.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Aster's face lit up.

For one brief moment, she looked as though she might launch herself across the room and hug the doctor.

Irena raised one finger.

“No sudden movements.”

Aster stopped.

Her arms remained half-lifted.

For several seconds, the two stared at one another.

Then the destroyer slowly lowered them.

“…Right.”

The doctor sighed.

Aster grinned.

“Thank you!”

And hurried toward the door.

Not running.

Technically.

It was more of an extremely enthusiastic walk.

Irena watched her disappear.

For a moment, the doctor seemed resigned.

Then she looked toward the ceiling.

“Please.”

A pause.

“Just one normal test.”

 

At the maintenance pier, Riko Minase was trying to convince Hana Saeki that her Yamato-class stabilizer had become lonely.

Hana regarded her.

For several seconds, she remained silent.

Then slowly set down the inspection gauge.

“Riko.”

The younger battleship smiled.

“Yes?”

“It's a hydraulic stabilizer.”

“I know.”

“It does not experience loneliness.”

Riko looked offended.

“You don't know that.”

Hana closed her eyes.

For one moment, she seemed to be reconsidering her career.

Then she opened them.

“Riko.”

“Yes?”

“If you touch that adjustment control again before I finish calibrating it, I am going to remove your access privileges.”

The battleship gasped.

“You wouldn't.”

Hana stared.

Riko slowly moved her hand away from the control panel.

“…You would.”

“Correct.”

The repair ship girl returned to work.

Yuna Mori sat nearby on a low equipment crate, studying an aircraft maintenance report.

The Illustrious-class carrier adjusted her glasses.

For several seconds, she continued reading.

Then spoke without looking up.

“Riko, I recommend leaving the stabilizer alone.”

The Yamato-class girl turned.

“Et tu, Yuna?”

The carrier calmly turned a page.

“I have no intention of arguing with Hana while she's holding precision tools.”

Riko considered that.

Then nodded solemnly.

“Wise.”

Hana sighed.

For a moment, the atmosphere felt almost normal.

The repair hangar's doors stood open.

Sunlight reflected off the water.

The distant sounds of the departing convoy had faded.

Somewhere farther along the pier, a technician was testing a small maneuvering thruster.

The morning breeze carried the smell of salt and fresh paint.

Riko leaned against the safety railing.

Then her eyes brightened.

“Oh!”

Yuna looked up.

“What?”

Riko pointed toward the adjoining fitting station.

“Look!”

Hana did not immediately raise her head.

“What now?”

“Aster!”

The repair ship girl stopped.

For one moment, her expression softened.

Then she turned.

And saw a familiar red ribbon.

 

Aster stood beside her Fletcher-class rigging.

She was grinning.

Not smiling.

Grinning.

The sort of expression that made experienced officers instinctively search for the nearest damage-control team.

Her red hair was neatly tied.

The familiar ribbon sat at the back of her head.

Her uniform had been adjusted for the equipment fitting.

And the repaired Fletcher-class machinery rested on the water beside her.

Five-inch gun mounts.

Torpedo equipment, secured and unloaded for the trial.

Antiaircraft structures.

Propulsion assemblies.

Stabilizing equipment.

The integrated rigging had been inspected by Hana's technicians and cleared for a low-speed harbor-control exercise.

Aster looked at it.

For several seconds, she didn't move.

Then her expression softened.

She reached toward one of the armored structures.

Her fingers touched the familiar metal.

Cold.

Solid.

Real.

For a moment, she remembered the days when she hadn't known whether she'd be able to use it again.

The doctor telling her to be patient.

The engineers explaining what still needed repair.

The frustration of hearing the battle alarms and remaining behind.

The terrible helplessness of listening to girls fight while she lay in a hospital bed.

Now the rigging was here.

Ready.

Waiting.

Aster swallowed.

Then smiled.

“Miss me?”

The machinery did not answer.

But a small status light turned green.

She decided that counted.

 

Riko hurried toward the fitting station.

Yuna followed at a more sensible pace.

Hana came behind them, carrying her clipboard.

Aster looked up.

Her grin widened.

“Hey!”

Riko practically bounced.

“Aster!”

The Fletcher laughed.

“Guess who's back?”

Yuna adjusted her glasses.

“Technically, you never left.”

Aster stared.

Then pointed at her.

“Rude.”

The carrier smiled faintly.

Riko laughed.

Hana approached.

For a moment, the repair ship girl's expression was gentle.

Then she looked toward the rigging.

“Ready for the trial?”

Aster nodded vigorously.

“Yes!”

“Medical clearance?”

The Fletcher held up the signed document.

Hana examined it.

For several seconds, she remained quiet.

Then nodded.

“Good.”

Aster's face brightened.

The repair ship girl continued.

“Remember, this is a controlled low-speed test.”

“Yes.”

“No abrupt acceleration.”

“Yes.”

“No weapons.”

“Yes.”

“No showing off.”

Aster opened her mouth.

Then hesitated.

Riko slowly turned toward her.

Yuna lowered her report.

Hana raised an eyebrow.

Aster sighed.

“…Yes.”

The repair ship girl nodded.

“Good.”

Riko grinned.

“You're finally going back on the water!”

Aster looked toward her.

Her expression softened.

“Yeah.”

For a moment, she seemed almost overwhelmed.

Then she laughed.

“Finally.”

Yuna smiled.

“It's good to see you cleared.”

Aster looked toward her.

“Thanks.”

The carrier's expression became more serious.

“But do take your time.”

Aster nodded.

“I will.”

Hana checked the final equipment status.

“Propulsion response normal. Stabilizer alignment within trial limits. Weapons isolated. Emergency cutoff available.”

A technician gave a thumbs-up.

Aster took a breath.

Then turned toward the water.

For a moment, she stood perfectly still.

The wind moved through her ribbon.

The harbor was blue.

The sunlight was warm.

And her repaired Fletcher-class rigging waited beside her.

She smiled.

“Okay.”

The machinery began moving into position.

Its structures unfolded around her.

Support arms aligned.

Mechanical couplings engaged.

The weight settled.

Not painfully.

Not awkwardly.

With a strange, wonderful familiarity.

Aster felt the propulsion assemblies respond.

The stabilizers adjusted.

Her five-inch gun housings rested in their safe positions.

The entire rigging came alive around her.

For one brief moment, she forgot every miserable hour she'd spent waiting for this.

She was a destroyer again.

A Fletcher-class girl.

Back on the water.

Aster laughed.

“Oh, I missed this!”

Riko clapped.

Yuna smiled.

Hana watched the diagnostic panel.

“Initial movement test. Ahead slow.”

Aster nodded.

“Got it.”

She engaged propulsion.

And immediately hit a bollard.

 

CLANG.

The sound was spectacular.

Not in the way a battleship broadside was spectacular.

Not in the way a torpedo detonation was spectacular.

It was the much more personal spectacle of a very enthusiastic Fletcher-class destroyer colliding with an entirely stationary piece of harbor infrastructure.

Aster had intended to move forward.

Gently.

Smoothly.

Gracefully.

Unfortunately, after weeks of medical restrictions, she'd applied slightly more maneuvering thrust than the test required.

The repaired starboard propulsion response was also sharper than she remembered.

Her rigging moved ahead.

She corrected.

A fraction too late.

The outer edge of one armored support structure swung toward the pier.

Directly toward a heavy steel mooring bollard.

Aster saw it.

Her eyes widened.

“Oh, wai—”

CLANG.

The rigging struck the bollard at low speed.

Metal rang across the harbor.

Aster's entire body jolted.

Her red ribbon bounced.

One of the protective fender pads compressed violently.

The bollard did not move.

It was, after all, an enormous steel fitting designed to secure conventional warships many times larger than the Fletcher-class girl's equipment.

Aster's rigging stopped.

So did Aster.

For several seconds, she remained frozen.

One hand raised.

One foot slightly forward.

Her expression caught somewhere between surprise and profound personal betrayal.

The entire pier went quiet.

Riko stared.

Yuna stared.

Hana stared.

The technician holding the diagnostic tablet slowly lowered it.

A gull cried overhead.

Aster blinked.

Then looked toward the bollard.

Then toward her rigging.

Then toward the three girls watching.

For several seconds, nobody moved.

Finally, Aster whispered:

“…Hi.”

Riko made a sound.

A very small one.

Aster narrowed her eyes.

“Riko.”

The Yamato-class girl pressed both hands over her mouth.

Her shoulders began shaking.

Aster stared.

“Don't.”

Riko made another sound.

Higher this time.

Yuna adjusted her glasses.

Very slowly.

Then looked toward the bollard.

Her expression remained perfectly calm.

For several seconds, she seemed to be conducting a highly technical analysis.

Finally, she spoke.

“Target appears to have been stationary.”

Aster turned toward her.

“Yuna.”

The carrier nodded gravely.

“Excellent observational conditions.”

Aster stared.

Then Hana closed her eyes.

For one moment, the repair ship girl seemed to be counting silently.

Perhaps to ten.

Perhaps to a much larger number.

Then she opened them.

“Aster.”

The Fletcher slowly turned.

“Yes?”

Hana pointed toward the rigging.

“Cut propulsion.”

Aster obeyed immediately.

The machinery powered down.

For several seconds, the repair ship girl examined the compressed fender pad.

Then the support structure.

Then the bollard.

Then Aster.

Her expression became deeply tired.

“We have been waiting weeks for you to return to operational status.”

Aster swallowed.

“Yes.”

“We have conducted structural inspections.”

“Yes.”

“Propulsion tests.”

“Yes.”

“Control-response calibration.”

“Yes.”

“And the first thing you do…”

Hana paused.

For a moment, her eyes moved toward the enormous steel bollard.

Then back at Aster.

“…is attack the pier.”

That did it.

Riko exploded.

Not literally.

Fortunately.

The Yamato-class battleship doubled over laughing so hard that she had to grab the railing.

“ASTER!”

The Fletcher stared.

Riko tried to speak.

Failed.

Laughed harder.

“YOU—!”

She covered her mouth.

Her eyes watered.

“THE BOLLARD!”

Aster's face went bright red.

“Riko!”

The battleship pointed toward the immobile steel fitting.

“IT DIDN'T EVEN MOVE!”

Yuna made a quiet sound.

Almost a cough.

Aster turned sharply.

The carrier adjusted her glasses again.

Then spoke in the same composed tone.

“Congratulations, Aster.”

The Fletcher narrowed her eyes.

“For what?”

“Your first confirmed harbor engagement.”

Riko nearly collapsed.

Aster stared in horror.

“YUNA!”

The carrier continued.

“Unfortunately, the target sustained negligible damage.”

Riko slid down against the railing.

She was laughing too hard to stand properly.

Hana looked toward the sky.

For one moment, she seemed to be asking the universe a serious question.

Then she sighed.

“Aster.”

The Fletcher slowly turned.

Her face was scarlet.

“Yes?”

“Are you hurt?”

The question changed the atmosphere.

Not completely.

Riko was still making deeply unhelpful noises beside the railing.

But Hana's expression had become serious.

Aster blinked.

Then looked toward herself.

Her side ached a little from the jolt.

Not badly.

Nothing like the pain she'd experienced during her earlier injuries.

She checked the familiar sensations from her rigging.

No major support failure.

No propulsion damage indicated.

A shallow scrape across one external fitting.

A compressed protective pad.

And a certain amount of deeply wounded dignity.

She swallowed.

“I don't think so.”

Hana narrowed her eyes.

“Don't think?”

Aster sighed.

“My side's a little sore. That's all.”

The repair ship girl's expression tightened.

“Then you're coming out of the rigging for a medical check.”

Aster's eyes widened.

“What?”

“Medical check.”

“But—”

“No.”

“Hana—”

“No.”

Aster stared.

For several seconds, she looked almost betrayed.

Then she turned toward Yuna.

The carrier raised both hands slightly.

“I'm not getting involved.”

Aster looked toward Riko.

The Yamato-class girl was still laughing.

That option was clearly hopeless.

The Fletcher sighed.

Then slowly began disengaging her rigging.

Her cheeks remained red.

The entire time.

 

The inspection established that the collision had been minor.

One protective fender needed replacing.

A painted outer fitting had acquired a fresh scrape.

The bollard itself showed a small transfer of paint and no meaningful damage.

The rigging's principal support structures remained intact.

The steering-response calibration was checked again, and the technician confirmed that the machinery had answered correctly to the input Aster had given it.

That detail did not improve her mood.

Not even slightly.

Irena's medical assessment found no sign that the jolt had aggravated her original injuries.

Aster was, however, reminded that a controlled trial meant controlled movement.

She accepted this advice.

With grace.

Mostly.

Then the doctor permitted the trial to resume after a short break.

At lower speed.

With an enlarged maneuvering area.

And a very conspicuous effort to keep Aster away from fixed harbor equipment.

The Fletcher regarded the new arrangements.

For several seconds, she remained quiet.

Then she looked toward Hana.

“Was the extra clearance zone really necessary?”

Hana raised an eyebrow.

“Would you prefer another bollard?”

Aster stared.

Then sighed.

“…No.”

Riko made a strangled sound from behind the railing.

Aster turned.

“Do not.”

The battleship held up both hands.

“I didn't say anything!”

“YOU WERE ABOUT TO!”

Riko grinned.

The Fletcher looked toward Yuna.

The carrier had resumed reading her report.

Aster narrowed her eyes.

“Don't you start.”

Yuna looked up.

Her expression was serene.

“I wasn't going to.”

Aster stared.

For a moment, she seemed suspicious.

Then Yuna added:

“Although I am curious whether the bollard has filed a damage claim.”

Riko collapsed into laughter again.

Aster threw both hands into the air.

“WHY IS EVERYONE LIKE THIS?!”

Hana closed her eyes.

For one brief moment, she looked as though she might laugh too.

Then she lowered her face toward her clipboard.

And said:

“Because you hit a bollard.”

Aster stared.

Silence.

Then Riko's laughter became so loud that a technician on the neighboring pier stopped working to see what had happened.

The Fletcher groaned.

Covered her face.

And wished the Blackwake would attack.

Not seriously.

But enough to change the subject.

  

VII. The Commander Receives a Very Unusual Damage Report

Kade Bher was halfway through reviewing the convoy's departure confirmation when the maintenance channel crackled.

He looked up.

Victor sat at the neighboring communications station.

For several seconds, the officer listened.

Then his expression changed.

Only slightly.

But enough.

Kade narrowed his eyes.

“What?”

Victor looked toward him.

For one moment, he seemed uncertain how to begin.

Then he cleared his throat.

“Minor incident at the maintenance pier, Commander.”

Kade went still.

The convoy had barely departed.

His first thought was that one of the pontoons had developed a mechanical fault.

His second was that a damaged Keelborn had suffered an equipment failure.

His third was that someone had disregarded medical restrictions.

He did not like any of those possibilities.

“Who?”

Victor hesitated.

“Aster.”

Kade stood immediately.

“What happened?”

The communications officer glanced down at the report.

Then toward his Commander.

For one moment, he seemed to be fighting something.

Kade noticed.

His eyes narrowed.

“Victor.”

“Yes, Commander?”

“What. Happened?”

A pause.

Then Victor answered:

“She hit a bollard.”

Silence.

Kade stared.

The Communications Room remained perfectly quiet.

For several seconds, he did not move.

Then he slowly sat down.

“A…”

He stopped.

Looked toward Victor.

Then repeated:

“A bollard.”

“Yes.”

The Commander stared at the ceiling.

For one moment, he seemed to be assembling several completely incompatible pieces of information.

Then he looked back.

“Was the bollard moving?”

Victor blinked.

“No, sir.”

Kade considered that.

Then nodded gravely.

“Excellent. That eliminates one possibility.”

Victor lowered his eyes.

For a moment, his shoulders moved.

Kade narrowed his eyes.

“Don't.”

The communications officer looked up.

“Sir?”

“Whatever you're doing.”

Victor swallowed.

“Yes, Commander.”

Kade rubbed his forehead.

For several seconds, he was quiet.

Then his expression became serious again.

“Injuries?”

“Medical reports no new significant injury. Minor soreness only. Engineering reports superficial rigging damage. The trial can resume under supervision.”

The Commander exhaled.

The relief was immediate.

Then, slowly, a different expression crossed his face.

He looked toward the maintenance district.

Then toward Victor.

“Aster's first rigging trial?”

“Yes.”

“And she hit a bollard?”

“Yes.”

Kade closed his eyes.

For several seconds, he remained motionless.

Then he made a sound.

A small one.

Half sigh.

Half laugh.

Victor regarded him carefully.

The Commander opened his eyes.

“I'm going down there.”

The communications officer nodded.

“Of course.”

Kade stood.

Then paused.

Looked back.

“Victor.”

“Yes?”

“Please tell me someone checked the bollard.”

For one terrible moment, the officer's composure failed.

He covered his mouth.

Kade nodded solemnly.

“I'll take that as a yes.”

Then he departed.

 

By the time Kade reached the maintenance pier, Aster was conducting her second attempt.

The Fletcher-class girl had been moved into an open, supervised test area away from the fixed mooring structures.

Hana stood beside the diagnostic console.

A technician monitored propulsion response.

Yuna watched from the pier.

Riko occupied a nearby bench, having apparently exhausted herself through laughter.

The Yamato-class girl brightened when she spotted Kade.

“Oh!”

Aster heard the sound.

Turned.

And immediately wished she hadn't.

The Commander approached with his hands in his pockets.

His expression was calm.

Far too calm.

Aster felt a terrible sense of impending doom.

“Kade.”

He stopped near Hana.

“Aster.”

The Fletcher stared.

For several seconds, neither spoke.

Then Kade looked toward the bollard.

The steel fitting stood exactly where it had always stood.

Immovable.

Unconcerned.

A tiny streak of fresh paint marked one side.

The Commander regarded it.

Then looked back toward Aster.

“So.”

The Fletcher swallowed.

“Yes?”

Kade raised an eyebrow.

“Harbor defense going well?”

Riko made a choking sound.

Aster closed her eyes.

“Oh, no.”

He looked toward the bollard again.

“I understand you've identified a serious threat to our maritime infrastructure.”

“Kade.”

“Extremely dangerous.”

“Kade.”

“Stationary.”

Riko burst into laughter.

Aster's face went red.

The Commander continued in a perfectly serious voice.

“Did it surrender?”

Yuna lowered her head.

Her shoulders moved.

Hana sighed.

Aster stared at Kade.

For several seconds, she appeared to be considering her options.

Then she folded her arms.

“I'm breaking up with you.”

Silence.

Riko stopped laughing for half a second.

Yuna looked up.

Hana blinked.

Kade raised an eyebrow.

For one moment, nobody spoke.

Then he replied:

“That's an impressively aggressive response to an engineering inquiry.”

Aster stared.

Her cheeks became even redder.

“I mean—!”

She stopped.

Realized what she'd said.

And covered her face.

Riko practically fell off the bench.

Yuna turned away.

Hana lowered the clipboard over her mouth.

Kade, to his credit, managed to maintain a straight face for nearly three seconds.

Then he laughed.

Aster groaned.

“I'm going to sink myself.”

The humor left his expression just enough for him to answer immediately.

“Absolutely not.”

The Fletcher lowered her hands.

He met her eyes.

For one brief moment, the teasing softened.

“We've had enough of that.”

Aster went still.

The words were quiet.

Gentle.

And everyone nearby understood.

The laughter faded naturally.

Not into discomfort.

Simply into recognition of something that still mattered.

Aster looked toward him.

Then slowly nodded.

“Right.”

Kade's expression softened.

He glanced toward the damaged fender.

Then back at her.

“Seriously. Are you okay?”

The Fletcher nodded.

“Yes.”

“Medical checked?”

“Yes.”

“Engineering?”

“Yes.”

“Everything within limits?”

She smiled faintly.

“Yes, Commander.”

He regarded her.

Then nodded.

“Good.”

For a moment, she seemed relieved.

Then he added:

“Try not to annex any additional harbor property.”

Aster threw her head back.

“KADE!”

Riko started laughing again.

And this time, even Hana couldn't quite keep the smile off her face.

 

The second trial went considerably better.

Aster engaged her propulsion at the prescribed setting.

The Fletcher-class machinery responded.

She advanced slowly.

No sudden acceleration.

No dramatic maneuver.

Just a steady, carefully controlled movement across the water.

The stabilizers held.

Her weight settled naturally into the rigging.

Aster breathed out.

For a moment, she felt that familiar connection returning.

The movement of the sea.

The quiet adjustments beneath her feet.

The way the machinery responded to small changes in balance.

She looked toward the open water.

Then smiled.

“There we go.”

Hana watched the diagnostic panel.

“Steady.”

Aster nodded.

“Yes.”

“Gentle turn to port.”

The Fletcher shifted her control input.

The machinery responded.

A slow, graceful turn.

No sudden overshoot.

No alarming vibration.

And, perhaps most importantly, no nearby harbor fixtures.

Riko applauded enthusiastically.

Yuna smiled.

Kade folded his arms.

His expression softened.

The destroyer completed the turn.

Then eased into another.

Her speed remained low.

Her gun mounts stayed secured.

The repaired support structures moved without complaint.

Aster felt relief spread through her.

The first collision had been embarrassing.

Spectacularly embarrassing.

But it had not changed what the clearance meant.

She was using her rigging again.

Actually using it.

After all the waiting.

All the frustration.

All the nights spent listening to alarms from a medical bed.

She was moving across the water under her own power.

Aster swallowed.

For one moment, her eyes shone.

Then she smiled.

A big, delighted smile.

“Hana!”

The repair ship girl looked up.

“Yes?”

“Look!”

Hana watched her complete the next maneuver.

The diagnostic figures remained within limits.

The repaired structures held.

For several seconds, the engineer in her studied the readings.

Then the girl beneath all that exhaustion smiled.

“I see.”

Aster grinned.

Riko bounced on her toes.

“She's doing it!”

Yuna nodded.

“Yes.”

The Yamato-class girl looked toward Kade.

Her expression was bright.

“Look at her!”

The Commander watched.

Aster crossed the open testing area beneath the morning sun.

Her red ribbon moved in the breeze.

Her Fletcher-class rigging cut a clean white wake across the harbor.

For several seconds, Kade said nothing.

Then he smiled.

“Yeah.”

His voice softened.

“I see her.”

 

The trial lasted another twenty minutes.

Aster completed several additional low-speed maneuvers.

Stopped.

Restarted.

Changed course.

Tested the response of her stabilizers within the approved limits.

Then returned to the fitting station without striking anything.

This final achievement received rather more applause than she felt it deserved.

She ignored everyone.

With dignity.

Mostly.

Hana completed the report.

The repaired rigging was functioning correctly.

Aster could continue graduated reconditioning under Medical and Engineering supervision.

She would not be assigned to unrestricted combat or demanding patrol duties until the remaining stages were completed.

But the result was good.

A real step forward.

Aster listened carefully.

Then nodded.

“Understood.”

Hana regarded her.

For several seconds, the repair ship girl remained quiet.

Then smiled.

“Welcome back, Aster.”

The Fletcher went still.

For one moment, her expression changed.

Then she smiled.

“Thanks, Hana.”

Riko approached and immediately hugged her.

Carefully.

After Hana reminded her.

Aster laughed.

Yuna offered a quiet congratulations.

Then Hana began discussing the replacement fender pad with the technician.

Aster closed her eyes.

For one moment, she seemed to be accepting that the bollard incident would remain part of Horizon's institutional memory for the foreseeable future.

She sighed.

Then looked toward Kade.

The Commander stood nearby.

His hands rested in his pockets.

He was smiling.

Not mockingly now.

Just warmly.

Aster approached.

For several seconds, neither spoke.

Then she tilted her head.

“Well?”

Kade raised an eyebrow.

“Well what?”

She gestured toward the water.

“My trial.”

He considered that.

Then nodded.

“Good control.”

Aster smiled.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

She brightened.

Then he added:

“On the second attempt.”

Her smile vanished.

“Kade.”

He held up both hands.

“Sorry.”

She narrowed her eyes.

He smiled faintly.

“Couldn't resist.”

Aster sighed.

Then, very gently, leaned against his arm.

The same simple gesture she'd offered him on the seawall.

Only this time, he wasn't sitting alone after a terrible night.

He was standing beside her in the sunlight.

Watching her take a step toward recovery.

Kade looked down.

For a moment, he seemed surprised.

Then his arm moved around her shoulders.

Aster smiled.

Behind them, Riko made a tiny sound.

Yuna looked toward her.

“Don't.”

The Yamato-class girl covered her mouth.

Her eyes shone with mischief.

Hana, without looking up from the diagnostic report, said:

“Riko, leave them alone.”

The battleship sighed dramatically.

“Nobody lets me have any fun.”

Yuna adjusted her glasses.

“You laughed at a bollard for twenty minutes.”

Riko considered that.

Then nodded.

“Fair.”

Aster closed her eyes.

For a moment, she looked deeply embarrassed.

Then Kade leaned slightly closer.

His voice became quiet enough that only she could hear.

“I'm proud of you.”

The Fletcher went still.

For one brief instant, all the embarrassment vanished.

She looked up.

Kade smiled.

“Really.”

Her expression softened.

Then she lowered her head against his shoulder.

“Thanks.”

He held her a little closer.

For several seconds, neither spoke.

The harbor breeze moved through her red ribbon.

The water lapped gently against the pier.

And somewhere in the distance, the repair crews continued rebuilding a fleet that had almost been broken.

Aster looked toward the eastern horizon.

Sakura's convoy had gone that way.

Six girls.

A transport and her escorts.

Heading toward distant friendly waters in search of supplies, machinery, and a chance to begin bringing lost Keelborn home.

Aster smiled faintly.

“Think they'll be okay?”

Kade followed her gaze.

For several seconds, he remained quiet.

Then answered honestly.

“I don't know.”

The Fletcher lowered her eyes.

He continued.

“But they have a good plan.”

A pause.

“And good people.”

Aster nodded slowly.

“Yeah.”

Kade looked toward the sea.

He thought of Sakura.

Harper.

Noelle.

Alice.

Emi.

Kagerō.

All moving east across an ocean that was becoming less familiar with every new report.

Then he looked toward Aster.

The girl beside him had finally returned to her rigging.

She'd collided with a bollard.

Been mercilessly teased by her friends.

Completed the actual trial successfully.

And now stood beside him, warm and very much alive.

Kade smiled.

There was still grief at Horizon.

The eleven recovered Pendants had not become living girls.

The four missing ones had not been found.

The Blackwake remained dangerous.

Its new warships were appearing across the Pacific.

And two corrupted girls named Maki and Reina were still somewhere beyond the horizon.

None of that had changed.

But Aster had come back to the water.

Sakura had sailed on her first major supply mission.

And Horizon had taken another step toward rebuilding something it had lost.

That mattered.

Kade lowered his eyes.

Then looked toward Aster.

“Come on.”

She blinked.

“Where?”

“Lunch.”

The Fletcher's expression brightened.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“With you?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“That was the idea.”

Aster grinned.

Then, after a moment, she looked suspicious.

“Are you going to make another joke about the bollard?”

Kade considered that.

Very seriously.

For several seconds, he seemed to be thinking.

Then he replied:

“Depends.”

She narrowed her eyes.

“On what?”

“Whether it's still hungry.”

Aster stared.

Then groaned so loudly that Riko began laughing again.

“KAAAADE!”

The Commander laughed.

A proper laugh.

Warm.

Unrestrained.

And for a few precious seconds, the maintenance pier sounded less like a place recovering from war and more like the homeport it had once been.

 

Far to the east, Sakura Nagase's cargo pontoons moved steadily behind her.

The escort maintained its formation.

Harper watched the distant sea.

Noelle kept the sky under observation.

Alice listened beneath the waves.

Emi remained close to the transport.

Kagerō held her assigned screen position.

And Sakura looked toward the horizon.

The passage ahead was long.

Beyond it waited Summit Key.

Farther still lay Resolute Shoals.

And somewhere in a technical depot were the components of a machine that might one day allow Horizon to do something extraordinary.

Sakura smiled.

Her cargo pontoons followed in a neat, orderly line.

A home on the water.

A place to rest.

A place to carry what other people needed.

She raised the convoy circuit.

“Lantern Road, Senko Maru. All cargo connections stable. Ready to continue on assigned course.”

Harper answered.

“Received, Sakura. Maintain speed.”

The transport girl nodded.

“Understood.”

The morning sunlight spread across the ocean.

And the little convoy sailed onward.

Not toward battle.

Not toward conquest.

But toward the possibility of bringing something precious home.