"They're clearly waiting for reinforcements." Hikaru paced a few steps, then smacked a fist into his palm. "Didn't expect the Abyssals to mass a force this huge just to crush our little port. I guess we've set a new record."
Bismarck's voice went cold. "I'll make them regret being born. Even a small Naval District isn't something outsiders get to trample."
"I know you will, Bismarck. If we force a breakout now, what are our odds?"
"A hard push…" She thought a moment, brows knitting. "Not realistic. Since the Abyssal flagships are stalling for more strength, the moment we challenge them they'll simply pull back—of course they would."
They'd been bombing by day and torpedo-raiding by night without rest; a tactical withdrawal wouldn't be out of character at all.
"We can't drag this out. The longer it goes, the worse it gets for us." Hikaru made up his mind. "I'm summoning Missouri today, grabbing a short reset, and tomorrow at 0900 we attack."
It wasn't an easy call. Defense was simpler than offense, and they were already few; splitting up only thinned them further.
The shipgirls exchanged looks—no objections.
Just then Yat Sen came to report. "Commander, I've wrapped things up. I can return to the inner base at any time. Everyone—do your best."
Hikaru set a hand on her shoulder. "We'll win."
Yat Sen smiled. "After we win, may I claim a special reward from you?"
"Of course."
"Then it's a promise—pinky-swear."
After that faintly childlike hook of fingers with Hikaru, Yat Sen dissolved into thin air—recalled.
In her place, someone hopped out the office window and dropped to the courtyard: Missouri.
She had on a tight black tee and eye-searing canary-yellow stockings, a pair of sunglasses perched on her nose—an ensemble that didn't quite belong together.
Finally summoned back, Missouri threw both arms to the sky and howled, "Awoo—Missouri's home!"
"This one acts like she just got sprung from jail," Hikaru muttered. He swayed from sheer mental fatigue; Lexington caught his arm. He shook his head, looked to Bismarck. "Then from this moment, the Naval District Defense—its final phase—starts now."
"Yes!"
— — —
Five thousand nautical miles north of the base, a strike column was knifing south across the Ink Sea—one thousand strong, a mixed force of humans and shipgirls.
The humans were "tainted"—bodies warped, clutching all manner of corruption-forged gear, their spilling aura enough to make fish roll belly-up as they passed. Their leader was Marshal Hanza.
The shipgirls formed a second wedge, headed by a tall woman with dark-gold hair, a black veiled headpiece, a white blouse trimmed in lace, and a tight slate-gray skirt—statuesque, austere, and so beautiful even the warped men kept stealing glances.
She ignored the looks and stared toward the south, where the cloudbank had gone pitch-black from west to east.
That meant an Abyssal host like none she'd seen—likely beyond imagining.
"How long until we're on station?" she asked, voice cool.
Hanza did the math. "At this pace, 1500 tomorrow."
"No." Crisp, final. "We accelerate."
He's face cooled. "Many are already at their limit. You'll leave them behind?"
"If necessary. We're reinforcing Commander Kuramoto, not on a pleasure cruise. Increase speed. The vanguard arrives by noon tomorrow—at the latest."
At her order the shipgirls surged ahead. All five hundred were level-100 veterans; barely, they could match their leader's pace.
The tainted, though, had to skim the surface at full sprint to keep up. They'd been pushing flat-out for more than a day already; muscles burned, lungs clawed at air. A sudden speed-up would wreck their energy planning—at worst, they'd flame out and fail to arrive at all.
They looked to Marshal Hanza, waiting for his decision.
[End of Chapter]
[100 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]
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