Chapter 180: Ship Girls
Steam pipes stretched across the floor and ceiling, their brass surfaces gleaming under harsh lights, while thick cables snaked through the air, feeding power to rows of towering equipment.
Every surface was covered with dials, switches, and glowing displays that pulsed with mechanical life.
The machines worked with steady rhythm, their pistons driving at the edge of space itself as light cascaded from temporal devices and energy beams danced between stabilizer arrays in patterns no human mind could follow.
Hundreds of thousands of oil-stained servitors worked under the guidance of Tech-Priests in red and black robes.
At the same time, the machine-servants moved with ritual precision, their mechanical songs echoing through the vast chamber as they maintained the sacred devices.
At the chamber's heart stood an archway carved with flickering runes, and before it stretched a metal platform where Imperial agents made final preparations.
They were bound for the Azur Lane Universe.
Cawl welcomed Dorn to the observation deck above the deployment chamber. "My lord, the briefing materials you requested."
Dorn took the datapad, his enhanced mind already processing the first images, yet he stopped, studying the display with the precision that had fortified a thousand worlds.
The image showed a small figure with large eyes and an innocent expression, clearly human, although the specifications stated that this was somehow a warship.
"You claim their vessels can transform into... girls?" Dorn's voice carried professional doubt, even as his analytical mind struggled to process the implications.
"Indeed, my lord." Cawl pointed to more displays, while his enthusiasm grew visibly.
"The Azur Lane Universe has technology called the Wisdom Cube, and these artifacts give machine spirits power to take human form at will."
Dorn absorbed the complex data in moments, his engineered mind racing through what this meant.
Though machine spirits were known to Imperial doctrine, this level of human manifestation was new. The tactical possibilities were staggering: ships that could think, feel, and adapt with genuine emotion, rather than programmed responses.
"Remarkable," he said, then looked up sharply, though concern flickered across his features. "What are their combat abilities in human form?"
"Full retention of original firepower," Cawl replied, while his voice carried growing excitement.
"Perhaps even more enhanced through emotional bonds with their crews, since the connection between ship and sailor becomes... intimate."
Dorn considered this, knowing that the strongest defenses were held by warriors with personal stakes in victory. If these ship-spirits could form real emotional bonds...
"Truly, the multiverse holds wonders beyond imagination," Dorn said, though his tone remained cautious. "But wonder must not blind us to strategy. What threats do they face? What is it that drives their conflicts?"
"A hostile force called the Sirens," Cawl answered, while his expression grew more serious.
"Intelligence suggests they have technology beyond Imperial standards in some areas, and the ship-girls are humanity's main defense against this threat."
Dorn nodded slowly, understanding that warriors forged in real conflict would be dangerous opponents. "And their politics?"
"Multiple factions, Eagle Union, Royal Navy, Eastern Radiance, and others," Cawl explained, though his tone carried a note of admiration.
"They keep cultural differences while cooperating against the Siren threat. It is remarkably advanced for a divided human civilization."
CLANG!
The first bell echoed throughout the Bureau's expanse, bronze tones awakening machine spirits across countless systems. Tech-Priests began their chants, binary songs flowing through speakers like digital prayers.
"Be ready, the deployment is commencing," Cawl announced.
Dorn watched the agents below check their equipment. Each carried years of infiltration training and advanced camouflage tech. They would be humanity's eyes and ears in this new realm.
CLANG!
The second bell triggered mechanical awakening, and dormant machinery trembled as power flowed through it.
Mountain-sized reaction columns began to glow, their surfaces crackling with electrical discharge, while focusing arrays blazed to life, channeling raw energy through filters that turned chaos into ordered light streams.
The machine spirits sang with joy, their voices rising in celebration, though their harmony created an almost sacred atmosphere.
"Magnificent," Dorn breathed, watching the display, and even after decades among the Imperium's greatest works, such displays of human achievement still moved him.
CLANG!
At the third bell, the symphony peaked, and pure energy flowed into the archway's structure, lighting runes with a steady glow.
Within the gate's frame, light began to swirl, forming a slowly rotating vortex that cut through the barriers between worlds, while reality itself seemed to bend around the portal's edge.
The agents activated their protective systems and stepped through the portal with calm professionalism, though each vanishing form marked humanity's first deliberate step toward conquest of infinite realms.
"History is unfolding before us," Dorn said quietly, knowing that another universe meant new challenges, new variables in humanity's expansion.
But also new opportunities and perhaps new allies, if Raven's diplomatic preferences won out.
He found himself curious about these ship-girls. What kind of beings were they? How would they react to contact with the Imperium?
The dimensional breach sent shockwaves through the Warp itself.
Carlos felt the impact like a physical blow, staggering against the Crystal Labyrinth's walls as reality convulsed around him. Fate's threads, so carefully woven by immortal hands, snapped and writhed in chaos beyond mortal understanding.
The resulting storm lashed across the Warp with terrible fury.
Every soul-powered vessel in its currents was hit. Navigators screamed as impossible visions seared their third eyes. Countless daemons shrieked as the storm left them wounded and lost.
Carlos gritted his teeth, weathering the temporal hurricane through will alone. When the storm passed, he found fresh cracks spreading through the labyrinth's crystal walls.
"The Cursed One's influence grows," he murmured, running clawed fingers along the damage. Each crack meant a shift in the balance between material and immaterial realms.
His master's rage was apparent as Carlos walked deeper into the maze. The Master of Change had spent eons weaving the patterns of destiny, delighting in cause and effect. Now those threads had spiraled beyond all control.
Power had increased, yes, but dominion over reality's flow was shattered. For beings whose strength came from authority rather than raw might, this was a catastrophic loss.
The labyrinth's deepest chambers housed Carlos's patron deity.
As he approached the center, crushing pressure threatened to overwhelm mortal consciousness. The air grew thick with possibility and change.
"Master of Change." Carlos bowed before the entity of infinite schemes and endless wisdom.
"Carlos." A hundred mouths spoke as one, voices layering into harmonics that made reality tremble. "Report on the tasks I gave you."
The daemon's terrible will eliminated any thought of deception. Carlos shared every detail, the corvid entity, its time manipulation abilities, and its strange fondness for fried potatoes with tomato sauce.
The information seemed almost absurd when spoken aloud, yet he had seen the corvid's power firsthand. That casual display of multiversal authority still haunted his memories.
"The Cursed One gains strength through alliance," the Master of Change mused, countless eyes turning toward dimensional barriers that suddenly seemed less solid. "Continuing this path ensures our defeat."
With a casual gesture, a clawed appendage tore through reality itself.
Winds of absolute nothingness poured through the opening, carrying an aura that made Carlos's daemon nature recoil in horror.
This wasn't Chaos, not even pure Chaos. Where the Warp represented change and passion twisted to extremes, this felt like the negation of existence itself. Chaos without purpose. Destruction without meaning.
The air itself seemed to flee from whatever lay beyond that tear.
"Master," Carlos said urgently, "I must advise caution—"
"Fortunately," the Master of Change continued, ignoring his servant's concern, "we too have found new allies. Our partners operate throughout the infinite multiverse. That corvid is not unique in its abilities."
Carlos felt Raven's warnings echo in memory. The corvid had spoken of entities that consumed entire realities, threats that made even Chaos Gods seem small by comparison.
"If mortals can reach other realities," his master declared, "so can we. The Chaos Gods shall devour entire universes to fuel our rise."
"Master, please—" Carlos stepped forward, his voice carrying millennia of faithful service.
"These entities represent absolute negation. They care nothing for corruption or change; they would unmake Chaos itself. I have served you faithfully since the Dark Age, but this path leads to the destruction of everything we seek to rule."
The Master of Change paused, its attention finally focusing on its servant's words. Countless eyes studied Carlos with new interest.
"Explain."
Carlos chose his words carefully. "The Warp is eternal because reality needs both material and immaterial aspects. No matter his power, the Emperor cannot change this basic truth. But these entities..."
He gestured toward the dimensional tear. "They represent pure entropy. They would consume the Warp as easily as realspace."
"If mortals gain multiversal reach while we remain bound to a single reality, extinction becomes inevitable," the Master of Change replied.
Yet Carlos detected uncertainty beneath the confident words.
"Better to rule in one universe than be devoured across many," Carlos countered. "These allies offer only mutual destruction."
Silence stretched between them, filled with whispers from beyond existence.
Finally, the Master of Change withdrew its appendage. The dimensional tear began to seal, though traces of that terrible emptiness remained.
"Perhaps," it said slowly, "we need... different allies. Those who share our interest in domination rather than annihilation."
Carlos felt a spark of hope. His words had planted doubt, perhaps enough to prevent catastrophe.
For now.
Three days after the dimensional breach, Agent Kowalski crouched in shadows at a Royal Navy training facility, watching ship-girls practice combat moves with their human crews.
The sight still amazed him despite hours of observation. Destroyers danced through the air with impossible grace, their rigging, miniaturized versions of their full-sized weapon systems, tracking targets with lethal precision.
Battleships moved more deliberately, but with devastating firepower; their main guns created shockwaves that rattled windows kilometers away.
"Status report, Kowalski," crackled his encrypted radio.
"Fascinating developments, Control," he whispered. "The ship-girls show emotional complexity far beyond standard Imperial machine spirits."
"I've observed genuine affection between vessels and crews, tactical innovation based on personal relationships, and individual personalities."
Through his scope, he watched a cruiser-class ship-girl laugh at something her captain said. The sound carried genuine warmth, not programmed responses, but authentic emotion.
"What about Combat capabilities?" his handler asked.
"It is significant. Their weapon systems appear physically impossible, but they function perfectly. A destroyer I observed earlier was generating missile salvos from storage spaces that shouldn't exist in her human form. The physics involved here defies conventional understanding."
Kowalski adjusted his position, keeping visual contact with the training exercises.
"More concerning is that they're not just weapons platforms. They're individuals with hopes, fears, and personal motivations. Some of them even express concerns about the war."
"While Others show protective instincts toward civilians that seem genuine rather than programmed."
"Any Political implications?"
"Yes, in fact, it's a great matter. The factions cooperate despite cultural differences, united by shared humanity and the Siren threat. Their ship-girls serve as symbols of national pride while maintaining surprisingly friendly relationships across faction lines. This isn't the fractured human civilization we expected."
A pause on the radio. "Continue observation. Focus on technological capabilities and command structures."
"Understood, Control."
As Kowalski settled in for another long surveillance session, he wondered what would happen when these beings met the Imperium.
Would they see humanity's unity as liberation from factional divisions? Or would they view Imperial conquest as simply another threat to their way of life?
The ship-girls below continued their practice, unaware that representatives of a galaxy-spanning empire watched their every move.
Soon, first contact protocols would determine whether these two branches of humanity would stand together or face each other across a battlefield.
The Great Crusade's next chapter was about to begin, and its outcome remained uncertain.
[End of Chapter]
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