Chapter 6.3 - “A Destroyer Above the Clouds”

I. This Is Not How Ships Are Supposed to Travel

Aster had come to a conclusion.

A very important conclusion.

One that she felt should probably be documented somewhere in the official naval training manuals.

Destroyers were not supposed to be this far above the ocean.

She stared out the small oval window beside her seat.

Below the aircraft, the Pacific stretched away in an enormous sheet of blue.

Not the familiar, textured surface she knew from standing in her Fletcher-class rigging, where she could see the shape of individual swells and feel how the water resisted her movements.

Not the glittering harbor at Horizon, where the sound of waves breaking against concrete had become almost as familiar as her own breathing.

No.

This was something else entirely.

The ocean was thousands of feet below her.

The clouds were level with her.

And the enormous military transport aircraft carrying her toward San Meridian seemed perfectly content to remain in that arrangement.

Aster slowly turned toward the young man sitting beside her.

"Kade."

"Hm?"

"I have a complaint."

Kade Bher did not immediately look up.

He was examining the small packet of documents he'd removed from his travel case, one hand holding the pages while the other rested against the armrest.

His neatly combed brown hair had already begun returning to its usual windblown disorder.

This was impressive.

They had been aboard the aircraft for less than an hour.

The cabin wasn't particularly windy.

Aster had no idea how he accomplished it.

The Commander turned a page.

"Only one?"

She folded her arms.

"A major complaint."

"Ah."

He nodded gravely.

"Those are the worst kind."

Aster pointed toward the window.

"We're flying."

Kade finally looked up.

He glanced toward the window.

Then toward her.

"...Yes."

"In an airplane."

"That is generally how flying works."

She narrowed her eyes.

"Kade."

"Aster."

She pointed toward herself.

"I'm a destroyer."

He regarded her thoughtfully.

Then nodded.

"Fletcher-class, if memory serves."

"Exactly!"

"A fine vessel."

"Thank you!"

"Very seaworthy."

"Yes!"

"Outstanding historical reputation."

Aster smiled triumphantly.

Then Kade continued.

"Terrible natural flying characteristics."

She froze.

For a moment, she simply stared.

Then she burst out laughing.

"KADE!"

He grinned.

"What?"

"YOU'RE AWFUL!"

"Frequently."

Aster lowered her head against the seat.

She was laughing hard enough that the passenger across the aisle glanced toward them.

Kade offered the man an apologetic little wave.

The man returned a faint smile and went back to his reading.

Aster eventually recovered.

Mostly.

She looked toward the window again.

Then shook her head.

"It's just strange."

Kade set aside his documents.

"The flying?"

"All of it."

She gestured vaguely toward the cabin.

The aircraft was a four-engine military transport assigned through the Admiralty Union's passenger-movement network. It had been configured to carry a mixture of uniformed personnel, administrative travelers, and a modest quantity of secured baggage.

The seating was practical rather than luxurious.

There were padded passenger seats arranged in rows, a broad central aisle, overhead compartments, and a few structural fittings that made the aircraft's military purpose unmistakable.

A low, continuous vibration passed through the cabin.

The engines produced a steady rumble that remained audible even through the hearing protection supplied to the passengers.

The air smelled faintly of fabric, machinery, and the coffee someone had brewed farther forward.

Nothing about it resembled a destroyer's bridge.

Nothing about it resembled the deck of a ship.

And Aster had spent much of the climb trying to decide whether the aircraft's movements were reassuring or deeply unnatural.

She looked toward Kade.

"I keep expecting to feel the water."

He tilted his head.

"Under your feet?"

"Yes."

She glanced toward the floor.

"But there's just this."

She pressed one shoe against it.

The aircraft continued flying.

The floor vibrated faintly.

Aster sighed.

"I don't know how to explain it."

Kade considered that.

Then nodded.

"I think I understand."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Really?"

"Well, imagine spending months learning to recognize every little movement of a machine."

Aster listened.

"Then somebody removes the machine, puts you in a chair, and tells you another machine is going to handle everything."

She blinked.

Then slowly smiled.

"...Exactly."

He nodded.

"Does sound weird."

"Very."

Kade glanced toward the window.

Then back at her.

"On the bright side, you don't have to steer."

Aster considered that.

"...True."

"No wave-height restrictions to manage."

"Right."

"No torpedo tubes to inspect."

"Also true."

He smiled.

"And nobody can blame you if the aircraft takes the wrong turn."

She stared.

Then grinned.

"Unless I distract the pilot."

Kade slowly turned toward her.

"...Please don't."

Aster burst out laughing again.

And somewhere above the enormous Pacific, a Fletcher-class destroyer discovered that traveling without her rigging might be considerably more entertaining than she'd expected.

 

II. What She Had Left Behind

Despite the jokes, the absence of her equipment still bothered her.

Not constantly.

Not enough to ruin the journey.

But it remained.

Aster shifted in her seat.

The passenger belt rested comfortably across her lap.

Her travel clothes were simple and practical: a blouse, comfortable trousers, light outerwear, and shoes selected partly because Dr. Holt had made it very clear that suitable footwear was not optional.

Her auburn hair was tied with its familiar red ribbons.

The garment bag containing her midnight-blue evening dress had been checked and carefully stowed under the transport crew's supervision.

Kade's formal uniform was traveling in a separate protective case.

Their official documents had already been inspected.

Their baggage was accounted for.

Everything had proceeded exactly as it should.

And yet...

Aster glanced toward her shoulders.

Nothing.

No familiar fitting pressure.

No weight distributed through her Fletcher-class support harness.

No slight resistance from an articulated equipment mounting as she turned.

She flexed her fingers.

Then rested them against the armrest.

Her rigging wasn't something she carried around in a pocket.

It was real machinery.

Naval guns.

Torpedo tubes.

Hull sections.

Propulsion equipment.

Supporting structures.

The compact, class-specific arrangement that allowed her human-sized body to operate as a warship.

She had spent months learning how to wear it properly.

How to distribute its weight.

How to move without letting the naval machinery interfere with her balance.

How to identify the subtle changes in its operation that might indicate an emerging mechanical problem.

During the beta, those things had been familiar concepts.

After Hour Zero, they became physical responsibilities.

The rigging had to be fitted.

Maintained.

Repaired.

Removed when appropriate.

And sometimes left behind.

Now it was sitting in Horizon's maintenance facility.

Not in some invisible inventory.

Not waiting for a gesture that would make it appear around her body.

Actually sitting there.

Disconnected and secured in its approved servicing arrangement, with the repair team's records identifying which assemblies could be worked on while she was away.

Hana had personally confirmed the arrangement before Aster departed.

The repair girl had been very clear.

"Your machinery will be here when you return."

Aster had nodded.

"I know."

"And nobody will rush the remaining inspections."

"I know."

"And you are not to spend the entire trip worrying about it."

Aster had hesitated.

Hana had narrowed her eyes.

"Aster."

"...I'll try."

The memory made her smile faintly.

She'd visited the equipment before leaving.

Not to put it on.

Not to perform another trial.

Simply to look.

The familiar Fletcher-class silhouette had rested within its support frame beneath the workshop lights.

Its hull sections and weapon mountings had looked almost strangely quiet without her wearing them.

The machinery was still hers.

Still part of the life she was learning to live.

But for a few days, someone else would look after it.

And she would have to trust them.

Aster leaned toward the window.

The clouds moved far below.

It's just a trip.

She repeated the thought to herself.

I'm not going away forever.

Kade was beside her.

Horizon remained safe behind them, as far as the latest reports indicated.

Mara knew what she was doing.

Hana would look after the equipment.

Her friends would be there when she returned.

There was no reason to become nervous.

None at all.

So why did the absence of her rigging feel so much like leaving part of herself behind?

Aster sighed.

Kade glanced toward her.

"You okay?"

She turned.

"Hm?"

"You've been quiet."

Aster blinked.

Then smiled.

"Just thinking."

"Ah."

He nodded.

"Dangerous hobby."

She laughed.

"Look who's talking."

Kade smiled faintly.

Then studied her expression.

Not intrusively.

Not trying to pry.

Just the familiar, attentive look of someone who'd spent enough time around her to notice when she wasn't quite herself.

"Rigging?"

Aster froze.

Then blinked.

"...How did you know?"

He shrugged.

"You keep looking at your shoulders."

She looked down.

Her cheeks warmed slightly.

"Oh."

A pause.

"Was I doing that?"

"Little bit."

Aster sighed.

"Sorry."

Kade raised an eyebrow.

"For what?"

She hesitated.

Then shrugged.

"I don't know. Being weird."

He considered that.

Then smiled.

"Aster, we're taking a destroyer to a ball by airplane."

She stared.

"Being weird seems to be the entire mission."

For a moment, she couldn't answer.

Then she burst out laughing.

Kade grinned.

"There we go."

Aster shook her head.

"You're impossible."

"Frequently."

She looked toward the window again.

Then spoke more quietly.

"I know Hana's taking care of everything."

Kade nodded.

"She is."

"And it's only a few days."

"Right."

"And I don't need the rigging in San Meridian."

"Unless the dance floor has developed a severe submarine problem."

Aster stared.

Then laughed helplessly.

"KADE!"

He raised both hands.

"Just considering contingencies."

She shook her head.

Then smiled.

A real smile.

And somehow, the absence around her shoulders felt a little less uncomfortable.

Not because anything had changed.

But because Kade understood enough not to tell her she was being silly.

He simply made the strange feeling easier to carry.

III. Two Passengers and One Very Important Bag

The first round of refreshments arrived while the aircraft was cruising above a long, broken field of clouds.

A uniformed aircrew sergeant made her way along the aisle carrying a service tray and checking that the passengers had what they needed.

She had an easy, practiced manner, the sort that came from doing the same job often enough to recognize which passengers were frightened, which were bored, and which were likely to ask whether the aircraft could somehow fly faster.

Kade looked up when she reached their row.

"Commander Bher?"

He nodded.

"Present."

The sergeant smiled.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"Tea, coffee, or water?"

Kade considered the options.

"Water, please."

She glanced toward Aster.

"And for you, miss?"

Aster blinked.

Not because the question was unusual.

Because she had become accustomed to people addressing her through naval classifications.

Fletcher.

Destroyer.

Keelborn.

Assigned combat unit.

Sometimes even asset.

Here, the woman simply treated her as another passenger.

Aster smiled.

"Tea, please."

"Certainly."

The sergeant handed her a cup.

Then checked the passenger information.

"Miss Aster. Accompanying guest to the Admiralty reception?"

Aster nodded.

"That's me."

The sergeant smiled.

"Very nice. First time visiting San Meridian?"

"Yes."

"I hope you enjoy it."

Aster brightened.

"Have you been there?"

"Quite often. My family lives in one of the residential districts outside the central fortress."

Aster blinked.

"Oh!"

The sergeant's expression warmed.

"My daughter complains that I spend more time looking at the city from the air than walking through it."

Kade smiled faintly.

"Military travel does have that effect."

"Yes, sir."

A pause followed.

Then she added:

"Although, between us, I suspect my daughter mostly wants me to bring home pastries from the capital."

Aster started laughing.

"That sounds like one of our friends."

Kade nodded gravely.

"A certain Benson-class destroyer."

"Emi," Aster said.

"Naturally."

The sergeant smiled.

Then looked toward their cups.

"If you need anything, let the crew know. The next portion of the flight may be a little uneven, but nothing outside the forecast."

Kade nodded.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Commander."

She continued down the aisle.

Aster watched her go.

Then looked toward Kade.

"...That was nice."

He raised an eyebrow.

"The tea?"

"The sergeant."

"Ah."

Aster smiled.

"She didn't make a big deal about me being Keelborn."

Kade considered that.

Then nodded.

"She didn't."

"No questions about my equipment."

"Nope."

"Didn't ask whether I was one of the former players."

"Also nope."

Aster looked down at her cup.

"She just asked what I wanted to drink."

Kade watched her for a moment.

Then smiled faintly.

"Imagine that."

Aster laughed softly.

"Right?"

For a few seconds, she stared at the tea.

Then her expression became thoughtful.

"It's strange that I even notice."

Kade didn't answer immediately.

She glanced toward him.

He leaned back.

"Not really."

Aster waited.

Kade continued.

"You've spent a lot of time being identified by your ship class before anything else."

She nodded slowly.

"Yeah."

"People get used to noticing when someone does things differently."

Aster looked toward the aisle.

Then back at him.

She smiled.

"...I suppose."

Kade lifted his water.

"Besides, you're an honored diplomatic guest now."

Aster raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

He nodded solemnly.

"Very distinguished."

"Naturally."

"Representing Horizon's finest."

"Obviously."

"Required to behave appropriately in front of important people."

Aster grinned.

"That's going to be difficult."

Kade sighed.

"For both of us."

She laughed.

Then lifted her tea.

"Well, Commander."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

"To surviving the flight."

Kade considered that.

Then raised his bottle.

"To surviving the Ball."

Their drinks touched lightly.

Aster smiled.

And the aircraft continued toward the eastern horizon.

 

Aster's attention eventually shifted to the overhead storage compartment.

She looked at it.

Then toward the forward luggage area.

Then back at Kade.

He noticed.

"...What?"

"My dress."

He blinked.

"...What about it?"

"It's on the airplane."

"Yes."

"In the baggage compartment."

"Yes."

She frowned.

"Do you think it's safe?"

Kade stared at her.

For several seconds, his expression remained perfectly neutral.

Then he asked:

"Is your dress carrying live ammunition?"

Aster blinked.

"...No?"

"Unsecured torpedoes?"

"No!"

"An experimental propulsion system?"

She began laughing.

"Kade!"

He nodded.

"Then I suspect the flight crew can handle it."

She folded her arms.

"That is not the point!"

"Ah."

"The point is that Riko, Yuna, Hana, Sakura, and I spent days making sure everything was perfect."

Kade looked toward her.

He smiled faintly.

"Sounds like quite an operation."

"It was!"

"I've heard."

Aster narrowed her eyes.

"...From whom?"

He considered that.

"Several sources."

"Kade."

"Apparently, the outfit required more planning meetings than some naval exercises."

She groaned.

"RIKO."

He laughed.

Aster lowered her face toward her cup.

Then smiled despite herself.

"I just don't want anything to happen to it."

Kade's amusement softened.

"I know."

For a moment, she looked toward him.

He nodded toward the luggage area.

"But Celia supervised the packing, right?"

"Yes."

"And the flight crew accepted it?"

"Yes."

"Then we've done what we can."

Aster considered that.

Then nodded.

"...Right."

Kade smiled.

"Besides."

She raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"If the uniform bag gets crushed, I'll have to attend the reception in my travel clothes."

Aster stared.

He continued thoughtfully.

"Might improve the event."

She burst out laughing.

"No!"

"Comfortable shoes."

"Kade!"

"No stiff collar."

"Absolutely not!"

"No one would recognize me as an officer."

She folded her arms.

"Oh, they would."

He raised an eyebrow.

"...Really?"

Aster nodded firmly.

"You're still going to give people that look."

He blinked.

"What look?"

She straightened in her seat, folded her arms, and attempted an impression of him.

Her eyes narrowed.

Her expression became almost painfully unimpressed.

Then, in a voice deliberately lower than her own, she said:

"'Who approved this requisition, and why does the ammunition report contain three different numbers?'"

Kade stared.

For a second, he was silent.

Then he started laughing.

Aster grinned triumphantly.

"See?"

He shook his head.

"That's slander."

"That's you."

"Terrible."

"Frequently."

They laughed together.

And somewhere in the secured baggage area, a midnight-blue evening dress continued its uneventful journey toward San Meridian, completely unaware of the extraordinary amount of concern directed at it.

 

IV. A Few Days Without the War

The flight settled into its long middle hours.

There were fewer conversations now.

Some passengers slept.

Others read.

A few worked quietly on documents, though the aircraft's vibration made writing by hand an occasionally frustrating exercise.

The cloud cover broke.

Far below, the Pacific appeared again.

Aster watched it.

She had stopped expecting to feel waves beneath her feet.

Mostly.

The sensation of being carried through the sky remained strange, but it was gradually becoming something she could enjoy.

Every so often, the aircraft passed over a cloud formation tall enough that its upper edges caught the sunlight like enormous white mountains.

The sight was beautiful.

Aster leaned closer to the window.

"Oh..."

Kade glanced toward her.

"What?"

She pointed.

"Look."

He followed her gesture.

Outside, sunlight spilled across a broad bank of clouds, illuminating their edges with pale gold while deep blue shadows gathered between them.

The ocean was almost invisible beneath the white.

For a moment, the entire world appeared to consist of sky.

Kade smiled.

"Nice."

Aster looked toward him.

"Just nice?"

He considered that.

"Very nice."

She laughed.

"You're hopeless."

"Frequently."

Then she returned her attention to the window.

The sight reminded her of something she'd once imagined while playing FRONTLINE HEARTS.

Back then, aircraft had represented reconnaissance coverage, air superiority, bombing capacity, and the complicated business of protecting naval formations from threats they couldn't always see.

She'd viewed the sky primarily as another part of the battlefield.

She hadn't spent much time considering what it looked like from inside an airplane.

Not like this.

Not while sitting beside a friend.

Not while traveling to a city she'd previously known mostly through maps and menus.

Aster smiled faintly.

Then her gaze lowered toward the ocean.

And, unexpectedly, Horizon came back to her.

Not the peaceful island she'd left that morning.

The island after the battle.

Damaged piers.

Overcrowded medical rooms.

The smell of burned machinery.

Girls sitting in silence because they didn't know what to say about the people who weren't there anymore.

Eleven Pendants secured.

Four missing.

A Respite Bath that couldn't yet restore anyone.

She thought of the days afterward.

The rehabilitation sessions.

The repairs.

The way everyone had worked so hard to keep themselves occupied.

She'd done the same.

Training when permitted.

Helping others when she could.

Teasing Riko.

Checking on Kade.

Making certain he ate.

Being useful.

Always being useful.

Because when she stopped, there was sometimes too much room to remember.

Aster's smile faded slightly.

She looked down at her hands.

The air around her was peaceful.

The aircraft was operating normally.

The passengers were relaxed.

No alarms sounded.

Nobody needed her guns.

Nobody needed her torpedoes.

Nobody needed her to launch herself across a harbor and intercept an enemy before it reached the wounded.

She was allowed to sit.

And the absence of responsibility felt unexpectedly difficult.

Kade noticed her silence again.

He didn't immediately interrupt.

Instead, he waited until she'd finished looking toward the window.

Then he spoke quietly.

"You're thinking about Horizon."

Aster turned.

She blinked.

"...Am I that obvious?"

Kade considered that.

"A little."

She sighed.

"Sorry."

He raised an eyebrow.

"There's that word again."

Aster smiled faintly.

"What word?"

"Sorry."

She looked down.

He continued, lightly:

"I'll have to start charging you."

Aster glanced toward him.

Then laughed softly.

"How much?"

"One completely unnecessary apology is worth approximately one cup of tea."

She raised an eyebrow.

"That's extortion."

"Military administration."

"Terrible."

"Frequently."

She shook her head.

Then looked toward the window again.

For a while, neither spoke.

Eventually, Aster said:

"It's weird being away."

Kade nodded.

"Yeah."

"I know they're handling everything."

"They are."

"And Hana has the parts."

"Right."

"And Riko's training is going well."

"Last report was encouraging."

Aster smiled faintly.

"She's going to be unbearable when she passes the next evaluation."

Kade sighed.

"She's unbearable already."

Aster laughed.

Then her expression softened.

"And the others..."

She stopped.

Kade waited.

Aster lowered her eyes.

"The girls we lost."

The words came quietly.

She didn't look toward him.

"I know being there doesn't change anything right now."

Kade said nothing.

"But leaving feels..."

She searched for the right word.

"Wrong?"

He considered that.

"Maybe."

Aster looked up.

He continued.

"Or maybe it just feels wrong to enjoy yourself when people are still hurting."

She stared.

For a moment, the words seemed to surprise her.

Then she looked down.

"...Yeah."

Kade nodded slowly.

He understood the feeling.

Far too well.

He remembered places where people had celebrated victories while funeral preparations were still underway.

He remembered laughing beside wounded companions and then feeling ashamed because someone else had died that morning.

He remembered wanting a quiet hour and being unable to enjoy it because other people were still suffering.

The memories were old.

Older than anyone aboard the aircraft could have guessed.

But the lesson had remained.

Kade rested his hands against his knees.

"Aster."

She looked toward him.

"Yeah?"

"You don't have to be miserable to prove you care."

She went still.

He continued.

"Being happy for a few days doesn't mean you've forgotten anybody."

Aster watched him.

"And it doesn't mean Horizon stopped mattering."

A pause followed.

"It's just a few days."

She looked down.

He smiled faintly.

"A very strange few days involving formal clothes and Admirals."

Aster laughed softly.

Kade continued.

"Then we go back and keep working."

For several seconds, Aster couldn't answer.

Then she nodded.

"...Right."

He looked toward the window.

"And while we're gone, Mara gets to enjoy running the place without me hovering over her shoulder."

Aster smiled.

"She'll probably love that."

"Absolutely."

"Maybe she'll refuse to give the office back."

Kade considered that.

"...A genuine danger."

Aster burst out laughing.

Then shook her head.

"Poor Kade."

"Tragic."

The humor eased the tightness in her chest.

But it was what he'd said before the joke that stayed with her.

You don't have to be miserable to prove you care.

She looked toward him.

Kade had already picked up his water bottle again.

He seemed entirely unaware of how much those words had mattered.

Aster smiled faintly.

And an idea she'd been carrying since the invitation finally settled into place.

Maybe that's why he wanted me to come.

Not because he needed a Fletcher-class destroyer to protect him from diplomats.

Not because San Meridian lacked its own security.

Not even because attending the ball was especially important to her duties.

Perhaps he'd seen how tired she'd become.

How often she kept herself occupied.

How much of her energy went into making sure everyone else was all right.

Perhaps this was his way of offering her something pleasant to look forward to.

A few days away from broken machinery.

A few days without hospital rooms.

A few days when she could be a guest instead of a patient.

Aster glanced toward him.

You really are kind, aren't you?

He caught her looking.

"...What?"

She smiled.

"Nothing."

Kade narrowed his eyes.

"Suspicious."

"Frequently."

He shook his head.

Then smiled back.

And Aster turned toward the window before her cheeks could betray her.

V. The Sky Has Its Own Waves

The turbulence began without much warning.

Not violently.

Not dangerously.

Just a brief, uneven movement that caused the aircraft to rise slightly, settle, and then shift again.

Aster felt it immediately.

Her body reacted before she'd consciously identified the sensation.

Her shoulders tightened.

One hand moved toward the place where the controls of her Fletcher-class equipment would ordinarily have rested.

Then she stopped.

Her hand closed around empty air.

She blinked.

"...Oh."

Kade looked toward her.

"Everything all right?"

Aster slowly lowered her hand.

Then laughed sheepishly.

"Yeah."

She looked toward the floor.

"Just instinct."

Kade glanced at the window.

The clouds beyond it were beginning to thicken.

The aircraft moved again.

Aster instinctively adjusted her posture as though she were preparing to compensate for a changing swell beneath her rigging.

Then remembered that she wasn't steering anything.

She sighed.

"This is going to take some getting used to."

Kade nodded.

"I can see that."

Another small movement passed through the cabin.

Aster looked toward him.

Then raised an eyebrow.

"You're awfully calm."

He considered that.

"...Should I scream?"

She laughed.

"No!"

"Good. Wasn't looking forward to it."

The cabin intercom sounded.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is the flight crew. We're passing through a region of unsettled air. Please remain seated with your belts fastened until advised otherwise. The aircraft is operating normally."

Aster glanced toward the illuminated seat-belt indication.

Then checked her belt.

Secure.

Kade checked his.

Also secure.

The aircraft continued.

For several minutes, it moved through the turbulent region with occasional gentle jolts.

Aster watched the wings.

Their slight movement surprised her.

Not because she didn't understand that aircraft structures were designed to flex.

Because seeing it happen while sitting inside one was a different experience from studying the principle.

She leaned toward the window.

Then looked back at Kade.

"That's normal?"

He followed her gaze.

"The wing movement?"

She nodded.

"Yeah."

"Within the design limits, yes."

Aster considered that.

Then sighed.

"Very reassuring."

Kade smiled.

"I try."

The aircraft shifted again.

Aster's eyes moved instinctively toward the nearest window, checking the sky as though she expected to see an approaching threat.

Then she caught herself.

Nothing was there.

No hostile aircraft.

No Blackwake formation.

Just clouds.

Her shoulders relaxed.

Kade noticed.

He said nothing.

Instead, he picked up the small route booklet from the seat pocket.

Then turned it toward her.

"Question."

Aster blinked.

"Hm?"

He pointed toward the aircraft illustration.

"Do you think Riko would fit in the cargo compartment with her full rigging?"

Aster stared.

Then looked down at the illustration.

The aircraft was large.

Riko's Yamato-class training configuration was also large.

Very large.

Especially with the Mk. I assistance equipment attached.

Aster considered the dimensions.

Then slowly shook her head.

"...No."

Kade nodded.

"Thought so."

She smiled.

"Not without dismantling quite a lot of equipment."

"And even then, we'd have to consider weight and securing arrangements."

"Exactly."

He looked thoughtful.

"Suppose we could ask Hana."

Aster's expression brightened with mischief.

"Oh, that would be awful."

"Wonderful question for a repair specialist."

"She'd produce a forty-page report explaining why we're idiots."

Kade considered that.

Then nodded.

"Probably forty-two."

Aster burst out laughing.

The aircraft moved again.

She barely noticed.

For a few minutes, they discussed the thoroughly impractical concept of transporting a Yamato-class Keelborn's complete training configuration aboard a conventional aircraft.

Aster became increasingly technical.

Kade asked increasingly unreasonable questions.

The conversation eventually reached the issue of whether Riko would demand a window seat.

Aster insisted she would.

Kade suggested the aircraft might need an additional window.

Both began laughing.

And by the time the turbulence diminished, Aster had almost forgotten why she'd felt uncomfortable.

Almost.

 

Kade noticed the improvement.

He was glad.

Not because he'd achieved some grand therapeutic breakthrough.

He wasn't a physician.

He didn't pretend to understand every part of what Aster was experiencing.

He was simply traveling with one of his closest friends, and she'd been nervous about the flight.

Making her laugh was something he knew how to do.

So he did it.

That was all.

The decision to bring Aster had seemed perfectly reasonable to him.

She'd expressed genuine interest in visiting San Meridian.

She understood Horizon.

She understood the difference between naval operations as she'd once known them through a game and the physical reality in which they now lived.

She was observant, capable of making thoughtful judgments, and entirely willing to tell him when he was behaving like an idiot.

All excellent qualities in a traveling companion.

And yes, he suspected the change of scenery might do her some good.

She'd endured a great deal.

He'd seen how much effort she put into appearing cheerful after the battle.

How often she helped other people while setting aside her own fatigue.

How much frustration her rehabilitation restrictions caused.

He wanted her to enjoy something.

To experience a few days in which nobody expected her to fight.

But he didn't imagine that taking her to a ball would solve what she'd been through.

He knew better.

Some things couldn't be repaired by a pleasant trip.

Some grief remained even after a person found reasons to laugh again.

He looked toward Aster.

She was studying the aircraft's route information with the intensity of someone preparing an elaborate tactical analysis.

Her red ribbons moved slightly when she turned her head.

Kade smiled faintly.

At least she's having fun.

That was enough for him.

A friend didn't always need a grand reason to make another friend's day a little better.

 

VI. The Stop Between Two Oceans

The first leg ended at an Admiralty Union military airfield.

It was a large, busy installation serving as a transfer and refueling point for aircraft moving between the central and western Pacific regions.

The runway stretched across a broad expanse of developed land, with hangars, maintenance buildings, fuel facilities, and administrative structures spread across the airfield.

Aster watched the ground grow closer through her window.

Her eyes widened.

"Oh."

Kade looked toward her.

"First landing as a passenger?"

She nodded.

"On a flight like this."

"Well."

He smiled.

"Try not to help."

Aster turned.

"...What?"

"The pilots."

She stared.

Kade continued solemnly.

"They've probably practiced."

She burst out laughing.

"KADE!"

He grinned.

Then settled back into his seat.

The aircraft descended steadily.

The view outside shifted from clouds to land.

Buildings grew larger.

Roads became visible.

The runway approached.

Aster felt the slight changes in the aircraft's attitude as it aligned for landing.

Then the wheels touched.

There was a firm bump.

A second sensation as the landing gear settled.

The engines changed pitch.

The aircraft decelerated.

And the runway moved past the window.

Aster held her breath for a moment.

Then exhaled.

"...Oh."

Kade glanced toward her.

"Survived."

She turned.

Then smiled.

"Apparently."

He nodded.

"Excellent work."

She laughed.

Then looked toward the runway again.

The aircraft continued taxiing.

It was a strangely anticlimactic ending to a flight.

No victory announcement.

No enemy destroyed.

No heroic maneuver.

Just an aircraft landing at an airport.

Aster found that wonderful.

 

The passengers were directed into a controlled military waiting area while the transport underwent its scheduled servicing.

Aster was very grateful for the opportunity to stretch her legs.

She walked beside Kade through the designated passenger route, following the movement-control personnel toward a small lounge near the airfield's administrative building.

The facility was plain.

Clean.

Functional.

It contained rows of chairs, restrooms, a water station, and a small refreshment counter.

A wall display showed authorized flight movements.

Several passengers stood near the windows watching aircraft taxi across the apron.

Aster looked around.

Then sighed happily.

"Ground."

Kade regarded her.

"...Yes."

"Wonderful ground."

He looked down.

Then nodded.

"Very impressive."

She laughed.

"Don't ruin this."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

They found a pair of chairs near the windows.

Aster sat carefully.

Her recovering injuries had not troubled her seriously during the flight, but the prolonged sitting had left her stiff.

She followed the movement advice Dr. Holt had given her, stretching gently and avoiding anything that caused discomfort.

Kade noticed.

"Doing okay?"

She nodded.

"Yeah."

"Any pain?"

"Nothing unusual."

He considered that.

Then nodded.

"Good."

She smiled faintly.

"You're starting to sound like Hana."

Kade looked offended.

"A distinguished comparison."

"Very."

"She'd probably confiscate my tools if I tried to repair something."

Aster grinned.

"Probably."

He smiled.

Then looked toward the movement board.

Their onward aircraft remained scheduled.

The connection would require another stretch of flying, but the journey was progressing according to the approved plan.

Kade took out his travel documents.

Checked the movement reference.

Then returned them to his case.

Aster watched him.

For a moment, she considered teasing him about being nervous.

Instead, she asked:

"How's Horizon?"

Kade looked toward her.

"Last routine report was quiet."

She nodded.

"Mara?"

"Handling things."

"Hana?"

"Still inspecting the components."

"Riko?"

Kade smiled.

"Probably arguing with a training officer."

Aster laughed.

"Definitely."

He looked toward the windows.

Then added:

"Nothing that needs us to turn around."

Aster lowered her eyes.

For a moment, she felt the familiar instinct to ask for more details.

A complete report.

The condition of every damaged installation.

The status of every recovering Keelborn.

Whether anyone had discovered anything new about the missing Pendants.

But Kade had already checked the information they were authorized to receive during the journey.

And Mara was handling the base.

Aster nodded slowly.

"...Okay."

Kade glanced toward her.

Then smiled.

"See?"

She raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"The island didn't collapse."

She laughed softly.

"Not yet."

"Give Mara credit."

"I do!"

He grinned.

"Good."

The two sat together in companionable silence.

Beyond the window, a ground crew guided another transport into its assigned parking area.

Farther away, technicians worked around an aircraft with an open maintenance panel.

Aster watched them.

Then smiled faintly.

So much work.

Everywhere.

Not just Horizon.

Not just the naval bases she knew.

An enormous network of people keeping aircraft, vehicles, ships, and military installations operating across the Pacific.

The Admiralty Union had always existed in the world she'd entered.

These people hadn't waited for Hour Zero to begin their lives.

They had families.

Careers.

Problems.

Responsibilities.

Just like the sergeant who'd served them tea.

Aster looked toward Kade.

"Hey."

He turned.

"Hm?"

"I'm glad we're doing this."

He smiled.

"Good."

She hesitated.

Then continued.

"I think I needed it."

Kade's expression softened.

"Yeah?"

Aster nodded.

"A few days away."

He looked toward the movement board.

Then back at her.

"Well, don't thank me too soon."

She blinked.

"...Why?"

He sighed.

"We still have to survive the reception."

Aster burst out laughing.

"Kade!"

"And apparently dance."

She grinned.

"Absolutely."

He lowered his head.

"...Tragic."

Aster leaned back in her chair.

Then smiled.

For the first time since leaving Horizon, she didn't feel as though she was doing something wrong by enjoying herself.

Not completely.

The feeling would probably return.

She knew that.

But it wasn't controlling the afternoon.

And that was something.

 

VII. The Friend Beside Her

The onward flight began after the aircraft and passenger movements received their final clearances.

The transport rose from the runway beneath a clear afternoon sky.

Aster watched the ground disappear.

This time, she didn't grip the armrest quite so tightly.

She still felt the strange pressure of acceleration.

The unfamiliar moment when the wheels left the earth.

The slight change in sensation as the aircraft climbed.

But she knew what to expect now.

She even smiled when the land fell away beneath them.

Kade noticed.

"Getting used to it?"

Aster nodded.

"A little."

"Good."

She looked toward the window.

Then back at him.

For a while, she seemed to be considering something.

Finally, she spoke.

"Kade?"

"Hm?"

"Why did you agree to take me?"

He blinked.

"...What?"

"To San Meridian."

He looked at her.

Aster's expression was curious.

Not accusatory.

Not demanding.

Just genuinely interested.

Kade considered the question.

"Well, you asked."

She stared.

Then laughed.

"That's your answer?"

"Part of it."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Part?"

He nodded.

"You wanted to go."

"Yes."

"I was allowed to bring someone."

"Right."

"And I'd rather travel with somebody I know and trust than spend the entire reception making polite conversation with strangers."

Aster smiled faintly.

"That makes sense."

Kade continued.

"You're observant. You know a lot about the old game, and you've been learning how the actual AU operates."

He glanced toward her.

"And you're good at noticing when something bothers people."

Aster blinked.

For a moment, she looked surprised.

Then her smile softened.

"...Thanks."

He shrugged.

"Just true."

She looked down at her hands.

Then asked quietly:

"And that's all?"

Kade considered that.

A small smile appeared.

"Not quite."

Aster looked up.

He continued.

"You've been dealing with a lot lately."

Her expression changed.

"The battle. Your recovery. Everything that's happened at Horizon."

She listened.

Kade looked toward the window.

"I figured you deserved a chance to do something that wasn't training or maintenance or worrying about the next attack."

Aster stared.

Then slowly lowered her eyes.

He added lightly:

"And you're probably the only person at Horizon who might be able to stop me from saying something terrible to an Admiral."

She laughed.

But softly this time.

For several seconds, she looked down at her hands.

Then turned toward him.

"...So you really did think I needed a break."

Kade nodded.

"Yeah."

She swallowed.

He smiled.

"But mostly, you're my friend, Aster."

A pause.

"One of my closest."

The words were simple.

Unembellished.

Entirely sincere.

Aster looked at him.

For a moment, she felt a strange mixture of warmth and nervousness.

She knew how Kade regarded her.

He trusted her.

He cared about her.

He considered her a close friend.

That was already something precious.

Perhaps more precious than he realized.

Her own feelings were not quite so easy to arrange into neat categories.

Sometimes she enjoyed his teasing simply because it was fun.

Sometimes she worried about him with the earnestness of a friend who had seen someone push himself too hard.

And sometimes, especially when he smiled at her in that quiet way, she found herself wishing he might someday see her a little differently.

She wasn't going to force that.

Not here.

Not on an airplane.

Not while they were still recovering from everything that had happened.

Aster smiled.

A gentle, grateful smile.

"...I'm glad."

Kade raised an eyebrow.

"Hm?"

"That we're friends."

He returned her smile.

"Me too."

She looked toward the window.

For a while, neither spoke.

Then Aster leaned back.

"And for the record."

Kade glanced toward her.

"Oh?"

"I am absolutely going to stop you from insulting an Admiral."

He sighed.

"...There it is."

She grinned.

"Someone has to."

"Terrible."

"And if you try to start an argument about Keelborn registration during the first dance—"

Kade raised one hand.

"No promises."

"KADE!"

He laughed.

Aster shook her head.

Then laughed with him.

And the aircraft continued toward San Meridian with two young people aboard who were, at least for the moment, quite happy simply being close friends.

 

VIII. The Fortress Beneath the Evening Sky

The first lights of San Meridian appeared beneath the clouds as evening approached.

Aster saw them before Kade did.

At first, they were scattered points along a dark coastline.

Then the aircraft descended farther, and the points became rows.

Roads.

Buildings.

Industrial districts.

Navigation lights.

A harbor extending into the water behind enormous breakwaters.

Beyond it rose the layered structures of one of the Admiralty Union's most important capital fortresses.

San Meridian.

Aster leaned toward the window.

Her eyes widened.

"...Kade."

He looked up.

"Hm?"

She pointed.

"Look."

He followed her gesture.

Then stopped.

For several seconds, neither spoke.

The city spread beneath them.

Not a small collection of buildings arranged around a naval base.

Not a temporary military camp.

Not a collection of abstract facilities represented by icons on a game map.

A real city.

Enormous.

Alive.

Its waterfront extended along the coast in a succession of protected basins, naval installations, shipyards, commercial piers, and illuminated roads.

Great cranes rose above the industrial districts.

Ships occupied the harbor.

Some were warships.

Others carried cargo.

Smaller vessels moved between the piers, their navigation lights tracing slow paths across the darkening water.

Farther inland, the fortress complex dominated a series of elevated districts.

Command buildings.

Defensive structures.

Administrative halls.

And beyond them, civilian neighborhoods stretching into the surrounding city.

There were lights everywhere.

Thousands.

Tens of thousands.

Windows in apartment buildings.

Streetlamps.

Vehicles traveling along illuminated roads.

People coming home from work.

Restaurants preparing evening meals.

Families gathering around tables.

Lives continuing beneath the enormous military institutions that governed so much of the Pacific.

Aster stared.

"...Wow."

Kade nodded slowly.

"Yeah."

The aircraft descended farther.

Details emerged.

A broad bridge carrying traffic across one of the protected harbor channels.

A great dry dock illuminated by powerful work lights.

Rows of buildings surrounding an open public square.

A railway line approaching the industrial waterfront.

Beyond the central fortress, another district stretched toward the hills, its residential lights scattered across the slopes.

Aster's expression softened.

"It's beautiful."

Kade looked toward the city.

Then smiled faintly.

"It is."

For a moment, he forgot about the invitation.

The formal uniform.

The Admirals.

The endless paperwork required to reach this point.

He simply looked at the place beneath them.

Another city in another world.

Another place full of people who had lived entire lives before he ever arrived.

He wondered what they thought about Horizon Atoll.

Whether most of them had even heard of it.

Whether the people attending the Ball understood how much effort it took to keep a damaged little base functioning.

Whether they knew what happened to Keelborn who sank far from repair facilities.

Whether they understood the cost of the orders issued from their comfortable offices.

He had questions.

A great many questions.

But tonight, the city was merely a city.

And its lights were beautiful.

Kade looked toward Aster.

She was still staring out the window.

A broad smile had appeared on her face.

He smiled too.

"Glad you came?"

She turned.

For a moment, her expression seemed almost luminous.

"Very."

Kade nodded.

"Good."

Aster looked back toward the city.

Then laughed softly.

"I can't believe we're actually here."

He considered that.

"Almost here."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

"We still have to land."

Aster stared.

Then burst out laughing.

"KADE!"

He grinned.

"Technical distinction."

"You're impossible."

"Frequently."

The cabin intercom sounded.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have begun our approach to San Meridian. Please make certain your seat belts are fastened, return your seats to the upright position, and secure any loose items. We expect to be on the ground shortly."

Aster checked her belt.

Kade checked his.

The aircraft descended beneath the last layer of clouds.

The fortress city filled the windows.

Aster watched the lights grow larger.

For a moment, she remembered the morning she'd left Horizon.

The maintenance building.

Her Fletcher-class rigging resting in its support frame.

Hana reminding her to follow the doctor's instructions.

Riko almost shouting herself hoarse while saying goodbye.

Sakura waving.

Yuna smiling.

And Kade standing beside her at the airfield, carrying his travel case and looking as though he'd already begun developing grievances against formal clothing.

She laughed softly.

What a strange journey.

A few days ago, she'd been wondering whether she could bear to leave her equipment behind.

Now she was approaching one of the largest cities she'd ever seen.

By airplane.

As a passenger.

With a very close friend who had helped her enjoy the journey without making her feel ashamed of everything she still carried.

She looked toward Kade.

He was watching the approaching runway lights.

His expression was calm.

Thoughtful.

Perhaps a little curious.

Aster smiled.

Thank you.

She didn't say it aloud.

Not yet.

There would be time.

For now, she wanted to enjoy the moment.

The city.

The lights.

The extraordinary feeling of being somewhere new without having arrived to fight a battle.

Below them, San Meridian's harbor shone beneath the evening sky.

The aircraft aligned with its assigned runway.

And somewhere within the capital fortress, officers, admirals, and invited guests were preparing for an event that promised to reveal more about the Admiralty Union than any familiar faction description ever could.

Aster watched the runway approach.

Then glanced toward Kade.

"Hey."

He turned.

"Hm?"

She smiled mischievously.

"Ready to meet the Admiralty?"

Kade considered that.

Then sighed.

"...Define ready."

Aster burst out laughing.

The aircraft continued descending.

And for the first time since Hour Zero, a Fletcher-class destroyer was arriving in San Meridian without her guns, her torpedoes, or her naval rigging.

Just her luggage.

Her invitation.

A beautiful dress.

And the friend sitting beside her.

It was strange.

Very strange.

But Aster was beginning to think she liked it.