The bridge of the Dreadnought Thalassa hummed with the low, constant thrum of the singularity core. Crystalline panels lined the walls, their soft blue glow casting long shadows across the floor, and the panoramic viewscreens showed nothing but dark water and the distant flicker of the island's coastline. The smell of heated circuits and recycled air filled the space, mixed with the faint, sharp scent of whatever gadget Bianca had been tinkering with before the call came in.
Galit Varuna stood at the main command console, his long neck coiled into a loose S-curve, his emerald eyes fixed on the tactical display. His Riptide Cloak hung open over his modified scout armor, and the Vipera whips clicked softly as he shifted his weight. Behind him, the bridge crew—mostly Karakuri automata, their brass and copper bodies gleaming in the low light—moved with silent, mechanical efficiency, checking systems and adjusting readings.
Bianca Yvonne Clark sat on a stool near the engineering station, her grease-stained overalls unbuttoned over a floral blouse that had seen better days. She had a pencil tucked behind her ear, another in her hair, and a third—she had no idea where the third had come from—sticking out of her collar. Her magnifying goggles sat on her forehead, and her hands rested on a half-disassembled device that looked like a cross between a grenade and a music box. She had been humming before the transmission came through. Now she was listening.
Charlie Leonard Wooley stood at the navigation console, his pith helmet firmly in place, his round wire-framed glasses reflecting the blue glow of the crystalline displays. His khaki shirt was crisp, his cargo vest overloaded with scrolls and notebooks, and his leather satchel hung from his shoulder, papers spilling from an unsecured pocket. He was examining a star chart with the intensity of a man who believed that the universe owed him answers.
Halia materialized in the center of the bridge.
Her form shimmered into existence, the silver-blue hair flowing as if suspended in water, her luminous tail fading in and out of visibility. The soft blue glow that surrounded her cast gentle light across the faces of the crew, and her large, expressive eyes—shifting between deep blue and aquamarine—fixed on Galit.
"Incoming transmission," she said, her voice warm and measured, with just a hint of urgency beneath the calm.
Galit straightened. "Go ahead."
The viewscreen flickered, and Phởlaurant Vanluc's voice crackled through the speakers, sharp and clipped, the kind of tone that meant something had gone wrong. "The Navy is transporting civilians. Move to intercept."
Halia's eyes flickered, streams of ancient script dancing across her irises as she processed the information. Her hair tendrils stiffened. "Scans confirm several Navy ships moving away from the island with maximum level of life signs."
Galit nodded, his jaw tightening. He turned to the helm, his voice carrying across the bridge. "Confirmed. Adjusting our course to intercept."
The Dreadnought Thalassa shifted beneath them, the gravity wave manipulation drive humming as the vessel changed direction. The viewscreens showed the dark water parting, the distant Navy ships growing larger on the display.
Phởlaurant's voice came through one last time. "Affirmative. Vanluc out."
The transmission ended. The bridge fell into a tense silence, broken only by the hum of the core and the soft click of the automata's movements.
Bianca flicked her wrist in a dismissive wave, her fingers wiggling in the air. "Well, like, that sucks. We, like, already have to adjust the plan and stuff."
Charlie slid his glasses up his nose with his forefinger, his expression thoughtful. "It would be counterproductive to allow the civilians to suffer any more atrocities." He paused, tilting his head. "Blowing up the ships would be a problem."
Bianca nodded, her messy bun shedding a pencil. "Like, yeah, but like, now what are we, like, gonna do?" She gestured at the viewscreen with both hands. "Like, hit them with a stick?"
Halia's form shifted, her hair tendrils curling as she processed the question. Her eyes glowed brighter, and when she spoke, her voice carried the weight of a thousand years of forgotten knowledge.
"The Dreadnought Thalassa is armed with more than just basic torpedoes." She paused, letting the words settle. "We also have energy weapon emitters and acoustic disruption arrays at our disposal. They may be more impactful in this particular battle scenario."
Galit and Bianca both looked over their shoulders at her. The hologram's expression remained serene, but something in her posture suggested she had been waiting for this moment.
"If you like," Halia continued, "I can display their operational parameters and capabilities."
Bianca and Galit exchanged a look. It lasted only a heartbeat, but it carried everything—uncertainty, hope, and the unspoken understanding that they were about to do something dangerous.
Galit turned back to the main console. "Show us."
The viewscreens shifted. Schematics and data streams filled the displays, lines of ancient text and glowing diagrams illustrating the ship's hidden armaments. Energy weapon emitters—mounted along the hull, capable of focusing water pressure into destructive beams. Acoustic disruption arrays—designed to target specific biological frequencies, disorienting crews without destroying ships. The specifications scrolled past in a blur of numbers and symbols.
Charlie cleared his throat—ahem!—and adjusted his pith helmet. His wire-framed glasses sliding down his nose.
"I assume," he said, his voice dry, "these are very loud sticks."
Bianca snorted. Charlie allowed himself a small, satisfied smile.
Galit did not laugh. His emerald eyes scanned the schematics, his mind already working through the tactical implications. The Navy ships were moving fast, loaded with civilians. They could not afford to destroy them. But they could not afford to let them escape, either.
He turned to the helm. "Bring us within range of the acoustic arrays. We will disable their propulsion and communications first. Then we board."
The Karakuri automata moved, their brass hands adjusting controls, their silent efficiency a stark contrast to the chaos brewing on the surface. The Dreadnought Thalassa surged forward, cutting through the dark water, its shadow falling across the fleeing Navy ships.
Halia's eyes glowed brighter. "Power readings are within operational parameters. Acoustic disruption arrays are charging."
Bianca stood up from her stool, her hands already reaching for her multitool holster. "Like, finally. Let's, like, go save some people."
Charlie cleared his throat again. "Ahem. I will remain here. Where it is safe. And dry."
Galit did not look back. His eyes were fixed on the viewscreen, on the ships growing larger, on the lives hanging in the balance.
"Prepare to engage," he said.
The Dreadnought Thalassa hummed, and the water around it began to churn.
If you enjoyed this chapter, please consider giving Dracule Marya Zaleska a Power Stone! It helps the novel climb the rankings and get more eyes on our story!
Thank you for sailing with us! 🏴☠️ Your support means so much!
Want to see the Dreadnought Thalassa blueprints? Or unlock the true power of Goddess Achlys?
Join the Dracule Marya Zaleska crew on Patreon to get exclusive concept art, deep-dive lore notes, and access to our private Discord community! You make the New World adventure possible.
Become a Crewmate and Unlock the Lore:
https://patreon.com/An1m3N3rd?utm_medium=unknown&utm_source=join_link&utm_campaign=creatorshare_creator&utm_content=copyLink
Thanks so much for your support and loving this story as much as I do!