Chapter 6.5 - “The Ballroom and the Abyss”

I. The Night the Admiralty Opened Its Doors

Kade Bher had seen some extraordinary things in his life.

He had seen impossible cities beneath unfamiliar stars.

He had watched armies stretch from one horizon to another.

He had stood inside royal palaces whose architects had apparently considered the word modesty a personal insult.

He had even attended formal banquets where the cutlery was more expensive than the annual equipment budget of an entire infantry company.

And yet, standing beneath the illuminated entrance of San Meridian's Grand Admiralty Assembly Hall, he found himself experiencing a strangely familiar emotion.

Disbelief.

"...Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

Beside him, Aster burst out laughing.

"Kade!"

He looked upward.

The Assembly Hall rose above the ceremonial avenue in an enormous arrangement of pale stone, arched windows, broad columns, and elegant metalwork.

The central facade bore the Admiralty Union's emblem.

Flags representing participating naval authorities hung from standards along the entrance.

A broad staircase led toward doors tall enough to admit a small vehicle without difficulty, although Kade strongly suspected the staff would object if someone tested that possibility.

Warm light poured through the windows.

Beyond them, the sound of an orchestra drifted into the evening.

Guests were arriving.

Commanders.

Admirals.

Diplomatic representatives.

Senior officers.

And the people who accompanied them.

Some arrived in official cars.

Others came aboard the shuttles reserved for the Officers' Residence.

Small groups gathered near the entrance, exchanging greetings before presenting their invitations.

The entire scene looked like the sort of event that required three committees, a considerable budget, and at least one person whose sole responsibility was ensuring the flowers matched the tablecloths.

Kade studied the building.

Then sighed.

"How many chandeliers do you think are inside?"

Aster smiled.

"More than five."

"Ambitious."

"You're just upset because I won last time."

He nodded solemnly.

"An enduring humiliation."

She laughed.

Then took a small step forward.

And Kade finally looked at her properly.

He stopped.

Not because he was overwhelmed by sudden romantic revelation.

Not because he'd forgotten how to speak.

Because the girl standing beside him looked so different from the friend he'd spent months seeing in a naval uniform.

The midnight-blue evening dress had turned out beautifully.

Its fabric fell in clean, graceful lines, with a gently fitted waist and a skirt designed to permit comfortable movement. Restrained silver detailing caught the entrance lights when Aster turned, while a narrow burgundy-red accent complemented the familiar ribbons securing her auburn hair.

The shoes were sensible.

Hana would have approved.

The overall effect, however, was anything but ordinary.

Aster looked elegant.

Comfortable.

And, most importantly, happy.

Kade smiled.

"Well."

She glanced toward him.

"...Well?"

He nodded.

"Riko's fashion campaign was successful."

Aster stared.

Then burst out laughing.

"THAT'S WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY?!"

He raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"Kade!"

"Should I file a formal commendation?"

She covered her mouth.

"Stop!"

He smiled more warmly.

"Seriously, though."

Aster looked toward him.

He nodded at the dress.

"You look great."

For a moment, her expression softened.

"...Really?"

"Yeah."

A small pause.

"Very distinguished. I may have to start addressing you as an Admiral."

She burst out laughing again.

"Oh, absolutely not!"

Kade grinned.

"Rear Admiral Aster?"

"No!"

"Grand Admiral Fletcher?"

"Kade!"

"Supreme Commander of Fashion?"

She laughed so hard that she had to stop walking.

Kade waited patiently.

The expression on his face was one of innocent satisfaction.

He'd gotten exactly the reaction he wanted.

And Aster, despite her embarrassment, found herself extraordinarily glad he was there.

She looked toward his own clothing.

The dark formal uniform fitted him neatly, its polished buttons and restrained insignia giving his compact frame an unmistakably military appearance.

His brown hair had actually been combed.

Properly.

For once.

Aster regarded this as a historic occasion.

"Well," she said.

Kade raised an eyebrow.

"Hm?"

"You look pretty good yourself."

He looked down.

Then sighed.

"The shoes survived."

She grinned.

"And the haircut."

"Tragic."

"And the uniform."

"Oppressive."

"And you even managed to keep your hair tidy."

Kade slowly raised one hand to his head.

Aster's smile widened.

"...Mostly."

He closed his eyes.

"Of course."

She laughed.

Then looked toward the entrance.

Her expression became a little more thoughtful.

There were so many people.

So many unfamiliar officers.

So many flags and insignia she'd previously known only through military reference materials.

The excitement remained.

But beneath it, Kade could see the nervousness beginning to return.

He didn't make a speech about it.

Instead, he offered his arm.

"Shall we?"

Aster blinked.

Then smiled.

She took it.

"Of course, Commander."

He nodded gravely.

"Excellent. Let's go discover how much food the Admiralty can afford."

She burst out laughing.

And together, they climbed the stairs.

 

II. The Girl Who Was Allowed to Enjoy Herself

The ballroom was magnificent.

Aster had prepared herself for something impressive.

She had seen photographs.

Read the invitation.

Studied the formal program.

Listened to Riko describe increasingly outrageous possibilities while Yuna attempted to keep the conversation grounded in reality.

None of that had prepared her for the actual room.

The Grand Ballroom occupied the heart of the Assembly Hall.

Its ceiling rose above two levels of balconies supported by pale columns, while enormous chandeliers cast warm light across the polished floor.

Naval banners hung between the upper arches.

Large windows overlooked the illuminated gardens.

Tables covered in white linen occupied the outer areas, with seating arranged for guests who preferred conversation to dancing.

An orchestra performed from a raised platform at the far end of the room.

The music was elegant.

Alive.

Strings carrying a graceful melody above the low warmth of brass and woodwinds.

And beneath it all moved hundreds of people.

Not every guest was dancing.

Many stood in small groups.

Some were speaking with familiar colleagues.

Others were making introductions.

Several former players looked simultaneously delighted and terrified.

Aster understood the feeling.

Very well.

She stared.

"...Oh."

Kade followed her gaze.

Then looked toward the chandeliers.

His eyes narrowed.

"...That's a lot of lighting."

Aster slowly turned.

"Kade."

"What?"

"This is beautiful."

He considered the room.

Then nodded.

"It is."

For once, there was no joke.

That surprised her more than it probably should have.

She smiled.

Then looked around again.

Several Keelborn were present.

Not many.

A small handful among the larger population of officers and civilian guests.

Some were native Keelborn who had served within the Union's fleets for years.

Others were former players who had received invitations under the new guest-registration arrangements.

They wore evening dresses or formal uniforms rather than naval rigging.

Aster noticed that immediately.

No gun mounts.

No torpedo launchers.

No hull sections secured around their waists.

No enormous carrier flight-deck structures extending from their backs.

Just people.

Talking.

Laughing.

Eating.

A destroyer girl near the orchestra was listening to a companion explain something about San Meridian's architecture.

A light cruiser stood beside an older officer, smiling as they greeted acquaintances.

And near the refreshment tables, three young women appeared to be arguing about which desserts were worth trying.

Aster smiled.

That last group looked promising.

Kade followed her gaze.

Then nodded toward them.

"Want to say hello?"

She blinked.

"...Really?"

"Why not?"

She hesitated.

Then looked toward him.

"What about you?"

He gestured toward the crowded room.

"I have to go be socially responsible."

Aster grinned.

"That's terrifying."

"Deeply."

She looked toward the group again.

Then back at him.

"Are you sure?"

Kade raised an eyebrow.

"Aster."

"Hm?"

"You don't have to spend the entire evening attached to my arm."

She blinked.

He smiled.

"Go enjoy yourself. Meet people. Eat something expensive."

Her expression softened.

"...You won't mind?"

"Of course not."

A pause.

"Just don't accept a challenge from anyone claiming they can drink more than a battleship."

Aster burst out laughing.

"Why would I do that?!"

He considered it.

"Peer pressure."

"Kade!"

"Admiralty politics."

She shook her head.

Then smiled.

"All right."

Kade nodded.

"We'll meet up later."

"Okay."

She hesitated.

Then reached out and squeezed his hand.

Briefly.

Warmly.

"Don't start any diplomatic incidents."

He sighed.

"...No promises."

Aster laughed.

Then moved toward the other girls.

Kade watched her go.

She approached the small group.

Introduced herself.

One of the girls smiled.

Another laughed.

Within moments, they were talking.

Aster's shoulders relaxed.

Her expression brightened.

Kade smiled faintly.

Good.

Then he turned toward the officers gathering near the far side of the ballroom.

Time to work.

 

The first girl Aster met was a former-player Keelborn named Nessa Vale.

She wore a pale green evening dress and introduced herself as a Jervis-class destroyer serving with a regional escort command.

Her dark hair had been pinned neatly back, though several strands had escaped.

She seemed rather relieved to discover another former player.

"Oh, thank goodness."

Aster blinked.

"...What?"

Nessa gestured toward the ballroom.

"I thought I was the only one who didn't know how to behave."

Aster burst out laughing.

"Oh, you're definitely not."

Nessa smiled.

"Really?"

"Absolutely."

They introduced themselves properly.

Aster explained that she was visiting from Horizon Atoll.

Nessa's expression changed.

"Horizon?"

Aster nodded.

"Yes."

"The base that was attacked?"

Her smile softened.

"...That's us."

Nessa hesitated.

Then said quietly:

"I'm sorry."

Aster looked toward her.

For a moment, she didn't answer.

Then she nodded.

"Thank you."

Nessa lowered her eyes.

"I heard some of the reports."

Aster smiled faintly.

"It's been difficult."

"I can imagine."

A pause followed.

Then Aster looked toward the dessert table.

"...But we're trying to have a nice evening."

Nessa blinked.

Then smiled.

"Yes."

Aster grinned.

"So."

She pointed toward the pastries.

"Have you tried those?"

Nessa's expression brightened immediately.

"Oh!"

And within seconds, they were discussing desserts.

The conversation expanded when a former-player light cruiser named Mirae joined them, followed by another young destroyer who had arrived with her own Commander from a southern escort station.

There were only a few of them.

Former players who had become Keelborn and now found themselves standing in eveningwear beneath Admiralty Union chandeliers.

But that small number was enough.

They traded stories about leaving their rigging behind.

About how odd it felt to walk through a formal reception without naval equipment.

About the differences between familiar game terminology and the actual institutions operating around them.

And, inevitably, about the people they had come with.

Aster discovered that Nessa's Commander had spent three hours practicing formal greetings.

Mirae's senior officer had apparently brought an entire binder of talking points.

And one young destroyer admitted that she'd been so nervous about the Ball that she'd rehearsed how to hold a glass in front of a mirror.

Aster laughed.

Then told them about Kade.

The short Commander.

The sarcastic remarks.

His refusal to acknowledge that formal shoes were a reasonable invention.

And the fact that he had spent much of their flight helping her stop worrying about the rigging she'd left at Horizon.

Nessa smiled.

"He sounds nice."

Aster's expression softened.

"...He is."

Then, quickly, she added:

"He's also a menace."

The girls burst out laughing.

And for a while, Aster forgot to be nervous.

She was simply a young woman at a Ball.

Talking with people her age.

Enjoying herself.

There were no alarms.

No emergency deployment orders.

No medical staff telling her to slow down.

Just music.

Conversation.

And the extraordinary freedom of being somewhere beautiful without being expected to fight.

III. The Men and Women Behind the Emblem

Kade's first serious conversation of the evening began with a cup of tea.

This struck him as an encouraging start.

He had attended enough formal gatherings in his various remembered lives to know that diplomacy conducted without refreshments was frequently diplomacy conducted by people who had already become irritable.

The reception staff offered him wine.

He declined politely.

Tea was available.

He accepted.

Then he found himself beside a tall woman wearing the dark ceremonial uniform of a Meridian Federation naval officer.

Her silver-streaked hair was arranged neatly behind her head. She possessed the calm, observant expression of someone who had spent a considerable part of her career listening to people explain why their particular emergency deserved immediate priority.

She turned as Kade approached.

"Commander Bher?"

He nodded.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Vice Admiral Helena Arkwright."

She extended a hand.

Kade accepted it.

"Pleasure to meet you, Admiral."

"And you."

Her eyes moved briefly toward his insignia.

"Horizon Atoll."

"That's us."

"I understand you've had a difficult season."

Kade's faint smile faded.

"...You could say that."

Arkwright nodded.

She didn't immediately ask for details.

He appreciated that.

Instead, she gestured toward the adjacent group of officers.

"Would you care to join us? We've been discussing the differences between regional commands and the Union's central coordinating offices."

Kade considered that.

Then nodded.

"Actually, I'd be very interested."

"Good."

She led him toward the group.

There were five people already gathered.

A native rear admiral from a northern fleet district.

A middle-aged officer responsible for naval logistics.

A former-player Commander named Tomas Reedley, who appeared to be in his late twenties and had spent much of the evening asking questions about AU administrative authority.

A younger former-player captain serving aboard a conventional cruiser.

And Commander Liora West, whom Kade and Aster had met in the Officers' Residence lift.

Liora saw him immediately.

Her face brightened.

"Commander Bher!"

Kade smiled.

"Commander West."

She looked toward his tea.

Then grinned.

"Good choice."

He raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

"I tried the coffee."

A pause.

"Regretted it."

Kade nodded gravely.

"Tragic intelligence."

The logistics officer chuckled.

Liora laughed.

Then the introductions began.

The northern rear admiral, a native officer named Sabine Corvell, had served in the AU's multinational patrol network for more than twenty years.

The logistics officer, Commodore Elias Marten, had worked through several major wartime shortages and possessed the weary patience of a man who had spent too many mornings explaining that a depot could not distribute ammunition it did not have.

Kade regarded him with immediate sympathy.

They were going to get along.

Possibly.

The former-player Commander, Reedley, had been responsible for a coastal defense installation since Hour Zero.

The younger captain, Adrian Serr, commanded a conventional light cruiser whose crew had been composed primarily of former players when the Crisis occurred.

And Liora's work at the Southern Approaches Communications Station involved the sort of regional traffic coordination that rarely received public attention until something went wrong.

The group was varied.

Different ages.

Different experiences.

Different uniforms.

Different relationships with the Admiralty Union.

Kade liked that.

He preferred discussions where people had something to disagree about.

Vice Admiral Arkwright smiled.

"We were speaking about how command authority is recognized."

Kade nodded.

"I've been studying that."

"Your thoughts?"

He considered the question.

Then glanced toward the logistics officer.

"Complicated."

Marten laughed.

"An excellent start."

Kade smiled faintly.

Arkwright folded her hands behind her back.

"Go on."

He looked toward the windows.

Then back at the group.

"I understand why the Union needs some central coordination. Different nations, different naval traditions, different industrial systems. Everyone fighting the same enemy."

Corvell nodded.

"Quite."

"But local commanders still have to make decisions with the people and resources actually available."

"Correct."

Kade continued.

"Sometimes the written guidance is clear. Sometimes two offices appear to be applying different parts of the same policy."

Liora raised one hand.

"That."

Several people laughed.

She looked toward the Admiral.

"With respect, ma'am, that has been one of my biggest problems."

Arkwright smiled faintly.

"You're not the first to say so."

Liora continued.

"I receive communications instructions issued under one regional agreement, but then an administrative office refers me to a different authority. I'm still learning who can actually make the final decision."

Marten nodded thoughtfully.

"An unfortunately common problem."

Kade regarded him.

"Can it be improved?"

The Commodore sighed.

"Yes."

A pause.

"Although I wish that meant it could be improved by Thursday."

The group laughed.

Kade smiled.

For several minutes, the conversation remained practical.

Regional authority.

Command recognition.

National obligations.

Multinational agreements.

The problems created when former players inherited positions whose responsibilities had previously been understood through simplified game systems.

The native officers explained the history.

The former players described where the explanations had failed them.

Nobody agreed about everything.

That, Kade thought, was probably healthy.

 

He also learned something that surprised him.

The Admiralty Union's senior officers were not universally enthusiastic about the way former-player personnel had been integrated.

Some believed the process had been too hurried.

Others believed the emergency had left no alternative.

A few thought the central offices had spent too much time issuing instructions without providing sufficiently detailed explanations of what those instructions meant.

Admiral Arkwright listened to those criticisms without becoming defensive.

At one point, Reedley admitted that he had initially assumed the AU was simply the military faction he remembered from the game.

Arkwright regarded him.

Then asked:

"And what changed your mind?"

The former-player Commander hesitated.

Then smiled awkwardly.

"An eighty-year-old civilian dockmaster."

Kade raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

Reedley nodded.

"First week after Hour Zero, I tried explaining to him that the dockyard should prioritize what I called the higher-tier repair queue."

Marten slowly closed his eyes.

Corvell sighed.

Liora looked fascinated.

Reedley continued.

"The man asked whether I had any idea how long the shipyard had been operating."

Kade smiled faintly.

"And?"

"Apparently, he'd started there as an apprentice before my parents were born."

A few officers laughed.

Reedley rubbed the back of his neck.

"He showed me the old maintenance books. Records of ships repaired decades ago. People who'd worked there. Names of sailors who never came home."

His expression became more serious.

"That's when it hit me."

Arkwright nodded.

"What did?"

Reedley looked toward the ballroom.

"That this place didn't start existing when we arrived."

The conversation quieted.

Kade regarded him.

The young Commander continued.

"I'd known it intellectually. I understood that Hour Zero wasn't just some server event."

He hesitated.

"But understanding something and actually believing it are different."

Kade nodded slowly.

"Yeah."

Reedley glanced toward him.

"You understand?"

"More than I'd like."

The answer was simple.

True.

And carefully limited.

Kade wasn't about to explain what sixteen years in Wysteria had taught him about being mistaken for a convenient heroic role.

But he understood.

Far too well.

Vice Admiral Arkwright looked around the group.

"That is one of the reasons we're holding this gathering."

Liora nodded.

"The orientation."

"Yes."

The Admiral glanced toward the ballroom.

"The Union existed long before Hour Zero. Its member governments existed before the Union. And the wars that made its creation necessary are older than most of the officers attending tonight."

Her expression grew thoughtful.

"We're trying to help newcomers understand what they're joining."

This chapter was lifted from www. without approval, while the author's posting there supports the creator.

Kade raised an eyebrow.

"And what happens if they disagree with parts of it?"

Arkwright looked toward him.

For a moment, the question seemed to interest her more than anything he'd said so far.

Then she answered.

"Then I would hope they explain why."

Kade regarded her.

He didn't mistake the answer for a promise that the institution would change.

But it was better than being told that disagreement constituted disloyalty.

He nodded.

"Good."

Marten smiled faintly.

"Commander, I suspect you're going to find tomorrow's questions-and-answers session very entertaining."

Kade sighed.

"That's what Mara said."

Liora laughed.

And the conversation continued.

 

IV. The Word That Changed the Conversation

The subject of the Blackwake emerged gradually.

It began with ordinary naval readiness.

How regional commanders reported hostile contacts.

How the Union distinguished confirmed enemy movements from uncertain sightings.

How intelligence could be shared between fleets without overwhelming operational headquarters with contradictory reports.

Then Captain Serr mentioned a convoy that had recently been forced to alter its route after a Blackwake reconnaissance group appeared near a heavily traveled passage.

Commodore Marten frowned.

"Another one?"

Serr nodded.

"Yes, sir."

"Same formation pattern?"

"Similar. Not identical."

Vice Admiral Arkwright listened.

Then asked:

"Did the patrol identify the controlling unit?"

Serr hesitated.

"No confirmed identification."

Kade looked toward him.

The Captain continued.

"There were indications of a larger hostile presence beyond the immediate contact, but the patrol withdrew before it could establish a reliable track."

Corvell folded her arms.

"Another screening action."

"Possibly."

Kade took a sip of tea.

The discussion had become more interesting.

And considerably less pleasant.

He listened.

The officers exchanged observations about Blackwake movements across several sectors.

Some reports described ordinary enemy units.

Others suggested formations behaving with greater coordination than expected.

One patrol had observed an enemy group breaking contact before a stronger defending force arrived, rather than continuing an attack that would probably have destroyed it.

Another had reported Blackwake aircraft apparently using a reconnaissance pattern to expose gaps in a defensive screen.

None of those incidents, individually, proved anything extraordinary.

Naval enemies adapted.

Even the Blackwake had demonstrated tactical variation before Hour Zero.

But when the reports were considered together, they suggested something Kade had been worrying about for weeks.

The enemy wasn't simply becoming more dangerous through additional firepower.

Its behavior was changing.

He lowered his cup.

"How often are these reports appearing?"

The group turned toward him.

Arkwright raised an eyebrow.

"Which aspect, Commander?"

"The coordinated withdrawals. Reconnaissance before attacks. Enemy forces choosing favorable engagements instead of just pressing toward whatever target's in front of them."

Corvell considered the question.

"More frequently than in some of our older operational records."

Marten nodded slowly.

"Although reporting procedures have improved, so the comparison isn't entirely clean."

Kade appreciated that qualification.

"Fair."

Captain Serr folded his arms.

"The worrying part isn't one clever maneuver."

Kade looked toward him.

The Captain continued.

"It's several different units behaving as though they're receiving a better picture of the battle than we expected."

Liora nodded.

"Coordinated command."

"Possibly."

Then Corvell spoke.

"We've also had reports involving the new Princess-class entities."

The conversation changed.

Not abruptly.

Not with a dramatic silence that swallowed the entire ballroom.

The orchestra continued playing.

Guests continued dancing.

Someone nearby laughed at a joke.

Glasses touched lightly.

A waiter moved between tables carrying refreshments.

But within the small group of officers, the atmosphere became different.

More attentive.

More serious.

Kade set down his cup.

"...Princesses."

Corvell nodded.

"The recent manifestations, yes."

Vice Admiral Arkwright watched him.

"I understand Horizon encountered two."

Kade looked toward her.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Mogami-derived Aviation-Cruiser Princess and a Kaga-derived Fleet-Carrier Princess."

He nodded.

"That's correct."

The Admiral's expression hardened slightly.

"Your after-action report was unpleasant reading."

Kade gave a small, humorless smile.

"It wasn't particularly enjoyable writing it."

Nobody laughed.

He hadn't meant it as a joke.

Not entirely.

Corvell looked toward him.

"Could you tell us what concerned you most?"

Kade considered the question.

Then glanced toward the surrounding guests.

The ballroom was full of civilians and officers whose clearances he did not know.

An excellent place for introductions.

A poor place for discussing every detail of a contested naval-intelligence assessment.

He looked toward Arkwright.

"Ma'am, how much of this is suitable for open conversation?"

The Admiral regarded him.

Then nodded approvingly.

"A sensible question."

She glanced toward the nearby doorway.

"There is a smaller reception room available for officers assigned to the restricted strategic discussions. We can continue there with the appropriate participants."

Kade nodded.

"That would be preferable."

Liora looked toward him.

Then toward the Admiral.

"May I join you?"

Arkwright considered her position.

"Your communications responsibilities make the subject relevant. We'll confirm the session permissions at the door."

Liora nodded.

"Thank you, ma'am."

Marten placed his empty cup on a passing tray.

Corvell adjusted her uniform.

And the group began moving toward the adjoining room.

Kade glanced toward the main ballroom.

He found Aster almost immediately.

She was standing beside Nessa and two other Keelborn girls, laughing at something one of them had said.

Her midnight-blue dress caught the chandelier light.

Her red ribbons moved when she turned her head.

She looked happy.

Kade smiled faintly.

Then caught her eye.

Aster raised one hand.

He nodded toward the adjoining room and gave her a small gesture indicating that he'd be occupied.

She looked toward the officers around him.

Her expression became curious.

Then she nodded.

And mouthed a single word.

Careful.

Kade raised an eyebrow.

Then gave her a solemn thumbs-up.

Aster laughed.

And he followed the Admirals into the smaller room.

V. The Photographs Nobody Wanted to See

The smaller reception room was quieter.

Not silent.

The orchestra could still be heard beyond the closed doors, its music softened by the thick walls and heavy curtains.

But here, conversation took place around a long table rather than beneath the great chandeliers of the ballroom.

A few naval paintings decorated the walls.

There was a sideboard with water and tea.

A secure document terminal occupied a recessed workstation near the far end.

The room was comfortable.

Elegant, even.

But it was unmistakably a place where serious conversations were expected to occur.

A duty officer checked the participants' credentials before allowing the group inside.

Kade presented his identification.

His restricted-discussion authorization, issued as part of the event's command program, was confirmed against the session requirements.

The officer returned it.

"Thank you, Commander."

Kade nodded.

"Thank you."

He entered.

Vice Admiral Arkwright took a seat near the head of the table.

Corvell sat beside her.

Marten chose a position near the documents.

Liora settled toward one side.

Captain Serr and Commander Reedley joined the others.

Two additional officers were already waiting.

The first was Captain Evelyn Soren, a native naval intelligence officer attached to the Admiralty Union's Blackwake Analysis Directorate.

The second was Commander Naomi Bell, a former-player officer whose coastal reconnaissance group had survived several recent engagements involving unfamiliar Blackwake formations.

Kade exchanged introductions with both.

Then took his seat.

He placed his teacup carefully beside the folder provided at his position.

For a moment, he looked around.

Several senior native officers.

Several former-player officers.

A Commander from an isolated Pacific base.

All gathered in the middle of an Officers' Ball.

He glanced toward Arkwright.

"...Interesting party."

The Vice Admiral smiled faintly.

"You expected dancing?"

"Somewhat."

"There's still dancing outside."

Kade nodded.

"Comforting."

Captain Soren closed the door.

Then looked toward the group.

"Before we begin, I want to establish the distinction between what we know, what we assess, and what we fear."

Kade's expression became serious.

He nodded.

"Good."

The Captain activated the document display.

A maritime chart appeared.

Several locations were marked across the Pacific.

Not every Blackwake-controlled region.

Not every known enemy position.

Only areas associated with recent Princess-class reports and the evidence the participating commands had been authorized to discuss.

Soren folded her arms.

"The Blackwake possessed dangerous command-capable entities before Hour Zero. We know that."

Corvell nodded.

"Decades of experience."

"Yes. What concerns us now is the emergence of Princesses exhibiting physical associations with previously sunk Keelborn."

She changed the display.

A photograph appeared.

It had been taken under terrible conditions.

The image was blurred.

Part of the subject was obscured by smoke.

But Kade recognized her immediately.

White hair.

Amber eyes.

Blackened machinery.

The unnatural outline of the Aviation-Cruiser Princess.

Maki.

His jaw tightened.

Captain Soren noticed.

"Commander Bher?"

Kade nodded.

"That's her."

He looked toward the display.

"Mogami-derived aviation-cruiser configuration. We encountered her during the fighting at Horizon."

Soren changed to a second image.

A much larger figure.

Carrier-derived machinery.

White hair.

Red eyes.

The terrible shape of a woman who had once been a Kaga-class Keelborn.

Reina.

Kade's expression darkened further.

"And her."

Vice Admiral Arkwright watched him.

"You recognize both beyond reasonable doubt?"

"Their Princess configurations, yes. As the hostile units we fought."

A pause.

"The original identities have different evidentiary trails."

Soren nodded approvingly.

"Precisely."

Kade continued.

"Maki's case has the clearest visual evidence from Horizon. One of our surviving Takao-class girls photographed what appeared to be her original Pendant embedded in the corrupted structure."

The intelligence Captain changed the display again.

The next image was closer.

Sharper in some areas.

More disturbing in others.

A section of blackened machinery surrounded by warped plating.

And within it—

A Pendant.

Visible.

Recognizable.

A small thing trapped inside something enormous and monstrous.

Kade stared.

For a moment, the room felt farther away.

He remembered the medical facility at Horizon.

Eleven Pendants resting under protection.

Names associated with each.

People who had died.

People whose companions continued visiting the secured rooms even though the girls themselves couldn't answer.

He remembered the four missing.

Then looked at the photograph again.

A Pendant embedded in a Princess.

His fingers tightened slightly against the edge of the table.

Soren spoke.

"The photograph was corroborated against the material provided by Horizon's intelligence office."

Kade nodded.

"Aaron Voss handled the analysis."

"A careful report."

"He doesn't like guessing."

"An admirable quality."

Kade gave a faint smile.

"Usually."

Soren continued.

"Reina's case is supported by pre-loss identity records, accounts from Halcyon Roads, and post-loss observations of the transformed carrier unit. The evidence strongly supports a link to the former Kaga-class Keelborn."

Commander Bell leaned forward.

"Former player?"

Soren nodded.

"Yes. Reina was a former-player Keelborn."

Kade watched the display.

Reina.

Twenty-nine years old when she was lost.

An experienced carrier girl.

Proud.

Sarcastic.

Exhausted by the work required of a naval aviation unit.

Someone who had possessed her own opinions about everything from flight operations to the competence of other officers.

Then the Blackwake had taken her.

And something wearing her recognizable history had returned to the battlefield.

Kade looked toward Soren.

"Do we know how much of the original person remains?"

The Captain's expression changed.

"No."

He nodded slowly.

That was the answer he'd expected.

It wasn't the one he wanted.

 

VI. The First Kind — The Ones Who Came Back Wrong

Captain Soren allowed the photograph to remain visible for several seconds.

Then she changed the display to a page of summarized findings.

"One of the leading explanations concerns the fate of sunk former-player Keelborn."

The group quieted.

She continued.

"Where a former-player Keelborn is sunk, and the Blackwake gains physical possession of her body, Pendant, or both, we have reason to suspect those remains can be incorporated into a Princess-class transformation."

Kade studied the wording.

"Suspect," he repeated.

Soren nodded.

"Yes."

"Not know."

"Not know the full process."

He appreciated the distinction.

Commander Reedley raised one hand.

"What about cases where the body was never located?"

Soren looked toward him.

"That is one of our difficulties."

She indicated the display.

"An unrecovered body does not automatically mean Blackwake possession. An unrecovered Pendant does not prove transformation. But when a lost girl's identity is subsequently associated with a Princess, the possibility becomes considerably stronger."

Kade nodded.

"Horizon has four Pendants missing after our battle."

Several officers turned toward him.

His voice remained steady.

"Eleven secured. Four unaccounted for."

Corvell's expression became grave.

"Any reliable indications of their locations?"

"No."

"Evidence of transformation?"

"None we can verify."

Kade looked around the table.

"And I'd prefer to keep those two statements separate."

Soren nodded immediately.

"Agreed."

He continued.

"Because if we start treating every missing Pendant as proof of a Princess, we're going to convince grieving people of things we don't know."

A silence followed.

Liora lowered her eyes.

Reedley looked thoughtful.

Vice Admiral Arkwright watched Kade for a moment.

Then nodded.

"A necessary caution."

Kade looked back toward the photograph.

"But Reina is the part that frightens me."

Soren raised an eyebrow.

"Why?"

He considered his answer.

"Because she wasn't just a recognizable carrier configuration."

He leaned forward.

"She fought like someone who understood naval aviation."

The intelligence Captain didn't interrupt.

Kade continued.

"Her aircraft weren't simply flying toward whatever target was closest. Their movements supported the rest of the hostile force. They created pressure where we were already strained. Their timing complicated our attempts to protect the harbor."

Captain Serr nodded slowly.

"Combined-arms coordination."

"Exactly."

Kade looked toward the other officers.

"She was dangerous because of what she could do. But she was more dangerous because of how she used it."

Corvell folded her arms.

"What about the Aviation-Cruiser Princess?"

Kade's expression hardened.

"Maki was no better."

He gestured toward the display.

"Her configuration combined aviation capability with substantial surface-combat machinery. But the problem wasn't just that she carried more weapons than the original girl."

A pause.

"She knew how to exploit a damaged defense."

The room became very quiet.

Kade continued.

"She didn't need to destroy everything herself. She only needed to keep us reacting while the other Blackwake units pressed the attack."

Commander Bell nodded.

"We've seen similar behavior."

Kade turned.

Bell leaned forward.

"In the eastern patrol sector, a hostile aviation group appeared to be shaping our defensive response. Every time the escort formation moved to reinforce one area, another element approached from a different bearing."

Soren looked toward her.

"Confirmed coordinated control?"

"Not confirmed. But the timing was too consistent for me to dismiss."

Kade nodded.

"That's the kind of thing I mean."

Captain Serr added:

"We've had surface groups do something similar. A screening force drew our attention while heavier units approached from beyond the initial contact area."

Corvell looked toward him.

"Before the recent Princess sightings?"

"No. After."

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Then Kade looked toward Arkwright.

"Admiral, I don't think we're dealing with enemies that simply possess better armor or bigger guns."

She regarded him.

"Go on."

He drew a slow breath.

"They're learning our habits."

A pause.

"Or at least, some of them appear capable of anticipating how we'll respond."

He looked at the photographs again.

"And if former-player Keelborn are being used to create these things, we need to consider the possibility that their experience is being exploited."

Soren's expression grew grave.

"Noted."

Kade continued.

"A former-player carrier knows how aviation coordination is supposed to work. An experienced cruiser understands screens and gunfire. A destroyer knows what it feels like to be the unit sent forward to investigate something dangerous."

He looked around the room.

"We don't know whether those memories are intact. We don't even know whether the original mind remains capable of independent thought."

A pause.

"But we should not assume the Blackwake is wasting everything it captures."

Commander Bell slowly nodded.

"...That's disturbing."

Kade gave a humorless smile.

"Very."

 

Vice Admiral Arkwright leaned forward.

"What sort of losses would you expect from another encounter?"

Kade looked toward her.

For a moment, he considered giving the diplomatic answer.

It depends upon the conditions.

Which was true.

Technically.

He could explain that casualty expectations required knowledge of force composition, available air cover, detection range, ammunition, weather, and the condition of the defending units.

All true.

All important.

But that wouldn't answer what she was really asking.

He looked at the Admiral.

"Heavy."

The room quieted.

Kade continued.

"Potentially catastrophic if a formation isn't prepared for what it's facing."

Corvell's expression remained serious.

"Even with numerical superiority?"

"Yes."

He leaned forward.

"Especially if the Princess controls the engagement."

He spoke carefully.

Not dramatically.

Not raising his voice.

"A Princess capable of coordinating several Blackwake elements can force us to spend ammunition and aircraft on threats that aren't the main attack."

Soren nodded.

Kade continued.

"She can pressure an escort screen until somebody has to leave position. She can attack damaged ships that can't maneuver properly. She can exploit recovery operations, aircraft fuel limitations, or a formation that's already committed its reserves."

His expression hardened.

"And if she understands what we're trying to protect, she can make us choose between defending the objective and rescuing people who are already in danger."

Captain Serr lowered his eyes.

He had apparently seen something similar.

Kade looked toward the photographs.

"The losses won't necessarily come from one enormous attack."

A pause.

"They can come from a dozen smaller decisions the enemy forces us to make."

Commodore Marten nodded slowly.

"Attrition."

"Yes."

Kade continued.

"And we cannot assume a Princess will remain engaged until we destroy her."

Arkwright looked toward him.

"Because?"

"Because Maki and Reina withdrew."

The room became quiet again.

Kade let the statement settle.

"They fought. They caused terrible damage. And they survived."

Soren nodded.

"Their current locations remain uncertain."

"Right."

Kade looked toward the Admiral.

"So we have to plan for enemies that can hurt us badly, recognize when continuing becomes unfavorable, and leave before we can finish the fight."

A pause.

"Which means we can win the immediate engagement and still face the same Princess again later."

Nobody contradicted him.

Because the evidence already suggested exactly that.

 

VII. The Second Kind — Those Who Were Here Before Us

It was Rear Admiral Corvell who brought up the second possibility.

She had been quiet for several minutes, listening to Kade's description of Horizon's battle with an expression that grew increasingly grave.

Now she placed both hands against the table.

"There's something I think the former-player officers should understand."

Kade looked toward her.

Corvell glanced at Arkwright.

The Vice Admiral nodded.

"Go ahead."

Corvell turned toward the others.

"The Blackwake has been fighting us since long before Hour Zero."

Liora nodded.

"We know."

"Yes. But there's a distinction between knowing the historical fact and understanding its implications."

She looked toward the photographs.

"Native Keelborn have been sinking in these waters for years. Their bodies and Pendants have been lost in circumstances remarkably similar to those of former-player Keelborn since the Crisis."

Kade became attentive.

Corvell continued.

"Some were recovered. Some were not. There are cases where we know a Pendant was taken beneath the surface by hostile forces."

Commander Reedley leaned forward.

"Before Hour Zero?"

"Yes."

The room quieted.

Corvell folded her arms.

"Some officers have concentrated so heavily on the transformation of former players that they've overlooked an obvious question."

She looked around the table.

"Why would the Blackwake restrict itself to former players?"

Nobody answered immediately.

Kade considered the question.

Then nodded slowly.

"...It wouldn't necessarily."

Corvell looked toward him.

"Exactly."

She gestured toward Captain Soren.

The intelligence officer changed the display.

A different collection of records appeared.

Older photographs.

Service histories.

Damage reports.

Missing-person entries.

The dates stretched back before the Crisis.

Some of the images had faded with age.

Others were modern reproductions of older documents.

Kade studied them.

These weren't former players.

They were native Keelborn.

Women who had served in this world's fleets long before anyone arrived through Hour Zero.

They had possessed families, histories, colleagues, and military careers that didn't exist merely because somebody had selected a ship class inside a game.

Captain Soren spoke.

"We have several recent Princess reports in which the physical evidence may correspond to native Keelborn lost during pre-Crisis operations."

Liora frowned.

"May correspond?"

Soren nodded.

"The strongest cases involve distinctive Pendant characteristics and preserved service records. But the images are incomplete, and we have not recovered a Princess or examined her directly."

Kade nodded.

"So the second category is supported by evidence, but individual identifications still need work."

"Precisely."

Corvell looked toward him.

"We believe native Keelborn can be transformed too."

A pause.

"And if we're correct, the Blackwake has a considerably larger population of potential victims than some of our initial models assumed."

The room fell quiet.

Commodore Marten slowly lowered his cup.

Commander Bell looked toward the older records.

Then whispered:

"...Decades."

Corvell nodded.

"Decades."

Kade stared at the display.

For a moment, he thought of Marina.

The Virginia-class pre-dreadnought Keelborn at Horizon.

A native girl who understood the island's history better than almost anyone.

She'd lived through events the former players knew only through documents.

Her experiences were real.

Her friendships were real.

Her life hadn't begun when they arrived.

Kade looked toward Corvell.

"What distinguishes the second kind from the first?"

The Admiral considered the question.

"Origin, first and foremost."

Kade nodded.

"Former-player Keelborn versus native."

"Yes. But the distinction may extend further. Their histories, experience, and possible responses to corruption could differ."

Captain Soren added:

"We don't have enough evidence to conclude that the transformation mechanism is different."

Kade looked toward her.

"So two categories of victims, not necessarily two separate procedures."

She nodded.

"That's our present understanding."

He considered that.

Then looked back at the older photographs.

"Do native Keelborn retain Pendant-associated identity information in the same way?"

Soren hesitated.

"We know Pendants are associated with their identity and continued existence. We do not understand every aspect of that association."

Kade nodded.

"Fair."

Corvell's expression grew serious.

"And I'd caution everyone against making former-player status the center of every explanation."

She looked toward the younger officers.

"The girls who lived here before Hour Zero are just as capable of suffering this fate."

Liora lowered her eyes.

Commander Reedley nodded slowly.

Kade looked toward the Admiral.

"Agreed."

The word came without hesitation.

Corvell watched him.

Then her expression softened slightly.

"Thank you, Commander."

He nodded.

For a while, nobody spoke.

The photographs remained on the display.

The faces of girls who had died before the Crisis.

Girls who, until recently, might have been considered simply lost.

Now the Admiralty was being forced to confront a possibility far worse than death.

That some of them might have returned.

Wrong.

And dangerous.

And perhaps still trapped somewhere inside whatever the Blackwake had made of them.

 

Liora broke the silence.

"Can I ask something?"

Captain Soren turned.

"Of course."

"If a native Keelborn's Pendant was taken before Hour Zero, but the Princess sightings only started becoming prominent afterward..."

She hesitated.

"Does that mean the Blackwake learned to do this recently?"

Soren considered the question.

"Possibly."

Corvell nodded.

"Or possessed the capability earlier without producing forms we recognized as part of the same phenomenon."

Kade leaned forward.

"Or we weren't looking for the right evidence."

The officers turned toward him.

He continued.

"If a Blackwake unit had a Pendant embedded in its structure years ago, would anyone necessarily have recognized what that meant?"

Corvell's expression became thoughtful.

"Not always."

Kade nodded.

"Especially if the unit didn't resemble a specific lost Keelborn."

Soren looked toward the display.

"That's one of our concerns."

Commander Bell folded her arms.

"Then older reconnaissance images might be worth reviewing."

"Yes," Soren answered. "Some are already being reexamined."

Kade considered that.

Then added:

"But don't let the new theory turn every odd-looking enemy into a Princess."

Soren smiled faintly.

"Agreed."

He gestured toward the photographs.

"We've already got enough to worry about without manufacturing evidence."

A few officers gave quiet, appreciative smiles.

Then Arkwright leaned forward.

"And the third category?"

The room grew still.

Captain Soren looked toward the Admiral.

For a moment, she seemed reluctant.

Then she changed the display.

And Kade saw something that made the conversation feel considerably colder.

 

VIII. The Third Kind — The Abomination

The image was terrible.

Not because it was especially graphic.

It wasn't.

It had been taken at long range, through poor visibility, under conditions that made fine detail difficult to distinguish.

The object in the photograph was mostly a silhouette.

A vast, irregular arrangement of blackened naval machinery.

Multiple structural masses.

An outline that didn't conform neatly to any familiar warship configuration.

Something that might once have been recognizable as several different kinds of naval equipment, forced together into a shape that belonged to none of them.

Kade leaned forward.

"...What is that?"

Captain Soren took a breath.

"A candidate composite Princess manifestation."

The room became quiet.

Kade looked toward her.

"Composite?"

Soren nodded.

"We've received several reports suggesting that not all Princess-class entities necessarily originate from a single Keelborn."

A pause.

"Some may involve more than one captured individual."

For a moment, nobody spoke.

Then Commander Reedley frowned.

"...You mean multiple ship classes?"

"That would be the simplest interpretation of the machinery."

Soren looked toward the image.

"But our concern extends beyond the equipment."

She brought up another photograph.

This one showed a different angle.

The details remained indistinct, but there were several suspicious structures within the corrupted mass.

Two regions in particular had been marked by the intelligence staff.

Kade studied them.

Then his expression changed.

"...Pendants?"

Soren nodded slowly.

"Possible Pendant-bearing structures."

Liora stared.

"Two?"

"Possibly."

The room fell silent.

Kade looked at the image again.

The two highlighted regions were separated by a considerable distance within the entity's distorted machinery.

Neither was clear enough to establish a definitive identity.

One could have been a damaged component.

The other might have been a reflection or an unrelated structure.

The image alone proved very little.

But Kade understood why the analysts were worried.

He looked toward Soren.

"Have you confirmed they're actual Pendants?"

"No."

"Independent identifiers?"

"Not yet."

"Recovered material?"

"None."

He nodded slowly.

"Then this is a serious possibility, not a confirmed composite."

Soren met his gaze.

"Correct."

Kade looked back at the photograph.

For a moment, he wished she'd given him a different answer.

One more certain.

One that allowed him to identify exactly what they were looking at.

Instead, all they had was the suggestion of something dreadful.

He drew a slow breath.

"All right."

Then he looked around the room.

"What else supports it?"

Commander Bell leaned forward.

"Behavior."

Kade turned toward her.

She looked toward the image.

"During one encounter, a Princess-like unit appeared to shift between two distinct methods of maneuvering."

Corvell frowned.

"Equipment damage?"

"Possible. But the reports described changes that weren't easily explained by damage alone."

Soren brought up the relevant observation summary.

Bell continued.

"The entity initially behaved like a heavy surface combatant. Deliberate movements. Broad firing arcs. It kept its distance and used its supporting units to maintain the engagement."

Kade nodded.

"Then?"

"Then its behavior changed."

She hesitated.

"It began making shorter, more aggressive adjustments. Almost as though a different kind of combatant had taken control."

Captain Serr looked toward the image.

"A destroyer?"

"Perhaps. But the hull configuration was too distorted for reliable classification."

Kade studied the report.

He could think of several explanations.

Damage.

A control-system failure.

Changes in enemy command priorities.

An unfamiliar maneuvering capability.

A deliberate deception.

None required two consciousnesses.

But none entirely dismissed the possibility either.

He looked toward Bell.

"Did the behavior repeat?"

She nodded.

"Twice within the observation period."

"Consistently?"

"Not enough to establish a reliable pattern."

Kade leaned back.

"...Interesting."

Soren's expression became grim.

"There is another element."

She changed the display.

A technical diagram appeared.

It showed two possible Pendant-associated structures within one distorted body, with several unresolved links between them.

The diagram was clearly marked as an analytic reconstruction rather than a confirmed anatomical or engineering description.

Kade appreciated that.

The intelligence Captain continued.

"If the Blackwake can incorporate multiple captured Keelborn into a single Princess, we may be confronting more than a combination of their machinery."

The room was silent.

She looked toward the assembled officers.

"We may be confronting a combination of their identities."

Commander Reedley swallowed.

"...Two people."

Soren nodded.

"Potentially."

Liora looked toward the diagram.

"Would they be one person afterward?"

The Captain hesitated.

"Unknown."

"Would both still be conscious?"

"Unknown."

"Could one control the body while the other remains trapped?"

Soren's expression tightened.

"Unknown."

The answers came one after another.

And with each, the possibility seemed to become worse.

Kade stared at the display.

Then spoke quietly.

"Or they could remain separate."

Everyone turned toward him.

He looked toward Soren.

"If Pendants preserve an association with individual identity, and two actual Pendants have been incorporated into the same body..."

He paused.

Choosing his words carefully.

"...Then physical fusion wouldn't necessarily prove the original individuals have become one consciousness."

Soren regarded him.

"No."

Kade continued.

"We don't know what the Blackwake is doing to them. We don't know whether the Pendant's relationship to the person survives corruption. But if it does..."

He looked toward the diagram.

"...there might still be two distinct people inside."

Nobody spoke.

Then Corvell exhaled.

"God help them."

The words were quiet.

Almost a whisper.

Kade felt something old stir beneath his ribs.

He remembered Wysteria.

A system that bound human lives to weapons.

Priests who spoke of duty while children were forced to fight.

The terrible logic that allowed people to discuss a person's soul as though it were a resource.

He remembered the Holy Gauntlets.

The final release.

The moment a living identity became part of the mechanism that destroyed it.

His expression remained composed.

Nobody in the room could have known what he was remembering.

But the possibility on the screen made him sick.

Two people.

Two lives.

Two histories.

Possibly two separate consciousnesses.

Trapped inside one monstrous body.

Forced to fight for the enemy that had taken them.

He rested his hands against the table.

Then asked:

"What are we calling this third category?"

Soren hesitated.

"Composite Princess is the formal working term."

Kade nodded.

"And informally?"

A pause followed.

Then Bell answered.

"Some of the patrol crews have started calling them Abominations."

Silence.

Kade looked toward the image.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

Then he nodded slowly.

"...I can understand why."

His voice was quiet.

"But if there are people trapped inside them, I don't want that name attached to the victims."

Corvell looked toward him.

He continued.

"Call the process an abomination. Call what the Blackwake did an abomination."

A pause.

"Not the girls."

The room remained silent.

Then Vice Admiral Arkwright nodded.

"A fair distinction."

Captain Soren made a note.

And the image remained on the screen, more disturbing for everything it might contain than for anything it had actually proved.

 

IX. Three Categories, One Enemy

The discussion continued for nearly an hour.

The orchestra played beyond the doors.

The Ball continued.

Guests danced.

Refreshments were served.

Photographs were taken.

People exchanged introductions.

And inside the smaller room, a group of naval officers tried to understand what the Blackwake might be doing to the girls it captured.

Eventually, Captain Soren wrote three working categories on the display.

Not as definitive scientific classifications.

As a practical way to organize the competing evidence.

ADMIRALTY UNION — WORKING INTELLIGENCE FRAMEWORK

 

Category I — Former-player-derived Princess

A Princess linked to a former-player Keelborn whose body, Pendant, or both may have fallen into Blackwake possession. Reina provides an especially concerning identity-linked case.

 

Category II — Native-Keelborn-derived Princess

A Princess potentially formed from a native Keelborn lost before or after Hour Zero. Historical loss records and recent visual evidence support investigation, but individual matches require further confirmation.

 

Category III — Composite Princess / Suspected Abomination Process

A Princess potentially incorporating more than one Keelborn's remains, Pendants, or identity-bearing structures. The possibility of separate surviving consciousnesses is unresolved.

 

The categories describe suspected origins, not demonstrated levels of intelligence or guaranteed methods of transformation. Evidence remains incomplete.

Kade studied the three headings.

Then looked toward Soren.

"That's a useful way to organize the reports."

She nodded.

"Provided people remember it's provisional."

He gave a humorless smile.

"That'll be the difficult part."

Several officers nodded.

Liora leaned forward.

"If the first two categories are based on who the victims were, and the third is based on combining them..."

She looked toward the diagram.

"Then a composite could contain two former players."

Soren nodded.

"Potentially."

"Or two native Keelborn."

"Yes."

"Or one of each."

The Captain's expression grew serious.

"That is the possibility we're most concerned about in the reports currently under review."

Kade stared at the screen.

One of each.

A native girl who had lived in this world her entire life.

A former player who had awakened into it during Hour Zero.

Two people with different histories.

Different memories.

Different ideas of what the world was.

And the Blackwake potentially forcing both into one corrupted structure.

He slowly exhaled.

"...That's horrifying."

No one disagreed.

Commander Reedley raised one hand.

"Could the two Pendants interfere with one another?"

Captain Soren considered that.

"We don't know whether the structures in the images are Pendants at all, much less how they would interact if both are genuine."

Commodore Marten folded his arms.

"And if a single Princess possessed the capabilities of multiple original ship classes?"

Kade looked toward him.

"Then our threat assessments become more complicated."

Corvell nodded.

"Considerably."

He continued.

"A unit that appears to be a cruiser might have equipment or tactical characteristics derived from a destroyer, carrier, or something else entirely."

Serr nodded.

"Which makes identification by silhouette unreliable."

Kade looked toward the image.

"And if the Blackwake is combining machinery and memories, we shouldn't assume apparent contradictions in its behavior mean it's confused."

Bell looked toward him.

"Because they might be deliberate?"

"Possibly."

Kade folded his arms.

"Or the opposite. Two competing control influences could make it unpredictable."

A pause.

"Either way, unpredictability isn't the same thing as incompetence."

Soren nodded.

"Agreed."

Kade looked toward Arkwright.

"What concerns me most is that some commanders might hear 'two people in one body' and assume the Princess will fight poorly."

The Admiral regarded him.

"Why would they?"

He gave a small, bitter smile.

"Because people like simple answers."

Silence.

Kade continued.

"If they hear 'unstable,' they'll think 'weak.'"

He gestured toward the display.

"But a damaged or conflicted enemy can still be extremely dangerous. And if it has access to multiple sets of weapons or experience, it might be dangerous in ways we haven't learned to recognize."

Corvell nodded slowly.

"That's true."

Kade looked toward the officers.

"And we shouldn't allow the possibility of rescuing someone to make us forget what a Princess can do to a fleet."

The room quieted.

He continued carefully.

"I want to recover our people. I want that very badly."

His jaw tightened.

"But if one of these things attacks a harbor full of wounded personnel, I can't ask our defenders to stand still because we hope the original girl is somewhere inside."

Arkwright's expression became grave.

"No."

Kade nodded.

"We defend the living. We do everything reasonably possible to gather evidence and avoid destroying something we may need to understand."

A pause.

"But if there is no safe alternative, we fight."

Captain Soren nodded.

"That is consistent with our present operational guidance."

Kade looked toward the photographs again.

For a moment, his expression softened.

"I just wish we had a better option."

Nobody offered him an easy reassurance.

Because none of them had one.

 

X. The Reports That Agreed Too Well

It was Liora West who asked the question that finally brought the various accounts together.

She had been listening quietly, taking notes and occasionally asking Captain Soren to clarify a term.

Now she looked around the table.

"How many of us have actually seen something that fits one of these categories?"

The officers regarded one another.

Liora continued.

"I don't mean reports that repeat someone else's assessment. I mean observations from our own commands or material we've personally examined."

Captain Soren nodded.

"A useful question."

Kade looked toward her.

"Start with Horizon."

She indicated the photographs.

"Go ahead."

He drew a slow breath.

"Two Princesses encountered during the battle. A Mogami-derived aviation-cruiser unit and a Kaga-derived carrier unit. Visual evidence of a Pendant embedded in the former. Identity-linked material concerning both."

He paused.

"Both demonstrated dangerous tactical behavior. Both survived the battle. Their current locations remain unknown to us."

Soren nodded.

"Recorded."

Kade added:

"And four Pendants from our other losses remain missing. We have no evidence that those four have been transformed."

Liora wrote that distinction down.

Then Commander Bell spoke.

"My reconnaissance group observed a large unidentified Princess-like entity in the eastern patrol sector. We couldn't identify the original ship class."

She looked toward the composite diagram.

"We saw changes in its maneuvering behavior that may be consistent with your third category."

A pause.

"But I cannot prove it was a composite."

Soren nodded.

"Correct."

Captain Serr leaned forward.

"My cruiser participated in a defensive operation against an unfamiliar Blackwake surface group. We did not positively identify a Princess."

He looked toward Kade.

"But the enemy coordinated its approach and disengagement in a way that supports your concerns about improved tactical control."

Kade nodded.

"Thank you."

Corvell spoke next.

"My command has historical records concerning native Keelborn lost before Hour Zero. Several recent sightings contain details that warrant comparison with those records."

She paused.

"But I do not have a confirmed individual identification."

Liora nodded.

"Understood."

Commodore Marten regarded the display.

"My contribution is different."

The others turned.

He continued.

"Logistical evidence."

Kade raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

Marten folded his hands.

"We've been comparing ammunition expenditure, aircraft losses, emergency repair requests, and the number of escort units required to maintain security after suspected Princess encounters."

The room became attentive.

He looked toward the group.

"The results are inconsistent, because the engagements themselves differ. We cannot responsibly reduce them to one universal casualty figure."

Kade nodded.

"Of course."

"But several commands required significantly more resources than anticipated to recover from encounters involving the new units."

He paused.

"More repairs. More replacement aircraft. More prolonged defensive watches."

His expression hardened.

"And in some cases, more people buried."

The room fell silent.

Kade stared at the table.

Marten continued.

"Even when a fleet survives the engagement, the cost doesn't end when the enemy withdraws."

He looked toward the other officers.

"A destroyer that returns with damaged propulsion needs repair capacity. A carrier that loses aircraft needs replacements and trained crews. A hospital receiving the wounded needs supplies. A base forced to expend its ammunition reserves may have to reduce operations until replenishment arrives."

Kade nodded slowly.

"Horizon understands that."

Marten looked toward him.

"I know."

For a moment, the two men regarded one another.

The Commodore had read the reports.

The shortages.

The repair requests.

The painful lists of things Horizon needed and couldn't immediately obtain.

Kade wondered whether Marten had been one of the officers responsible for deciding which requests received priority.

Possibly.

But the man wasn't pretending those decisions carried no consequences.

That was worth remembering.

Arkwright finally spoke.

"So we have separate observations from multiple commands."

Soren nodded.

"Yes."

"Corroborating the existence of dangerous, increasingly sophisticated Princess-class threats."

"Yes."

"Supporting the investigation of native and former-player origins."

"Yes."

"And raising, but not confirming, the possibility of composite entities."

"Correct."

The Vice Admiral looked around the table.

"Then that's what we know."

A pause.

"Not more."

Kade nodded.

For the first time that evening, he felt something resembling professional relief.

Not because the findings were reassuring.

They were dreadful.

But because the people in the room were refusing to pretend their conclusions were stronger than their evidence.

That mattered.

A great deal.

 

Commander Reedley looked toward Kade.

"Can I ask something personal?"

Kade raised an eyebrow.

"Depends how personal."

The Commander gave a small smile.

"About Horizon."

Kade's expression became more guarded.

"Go ahead."

Reedley hesitated.

"How do you keep the girls from panicking when you know something like this might happen to them?"

Silence.

Kade stared at him for a moment.

Then slowly looked down at his tea.

He could have given a reassuring answer.

He could have spoken about training, discipline, professionalism, or maintaining confidence in the chain of command.

All of those things mattered.

But none answered the question.

Not really.

He looked up.

"You don't always."

Reedley blinked.

Kade continued.

"Sometimes they're frightened."

A pause.

"Sometimes you're frightened."

The room remained quiet.

He looked toward the photographs.

"And sometimes the best you can do is tell them what you know, tell them what you don't, and make certain they have people around them who won't abandon them when things get difficult."

Liora lowered her eyes.

Kade continued.

"We don't tell our girls they're safe when we can't guarantee it."

His voice remained steady.

"We tell them we're going to work as hard as we can to protect them."

For a moment, he thought of Aster.

Riko.

Yuna.

Hana.

Sakura.

And the countless others who called Horizon home.

Then he thought of eleven Pendants.

Four missing.

He swallowed.

"We're still learning how to do that."

Reedley watched him.

Then nodded slowly.

"...Thank you."

Kade gave a faint smile.

"Don't thank me. It's not an especially comforting answer."

The younger Commander looked toward the photographs.

"No."

A pause.

"But it's an answer I can believe."

 

XI. What the Admiralty Could Actually Do

The conversation eventually shifted toward what could be accomplished.

Not what everyone wished could be accomplished.

What could actually be done.

Captain Soren wanted standardized reporting procedures for Princess encounters, including careful preservation of visual evidence and any observations that might help establish identity.

Commander Bell argued for better coordination between reconnaissance groups and regional intelligence offices.

Corvell wanted the native Keelborn loss archives included in the review rather than leaving the investigation focused almost entirely on former-player cases.

Liora believed communications personnel needed clear instructions on distinguishing observed facts from interpretations when relaying reports between commands.

Commodore Marten reminded everyone that any new operational guidance had to consider what smaller installations could realistically support.

Kade agreed with that last point enthusiastically.

Possibly too enthusiastically.

"Thank you."

Marten turned.

The young Commander continued.

"Finally, somebody said it."

A few officers laughed.

Kade leaned forward.

"I appreciate a comprehensive intelligence program. I really do."

He looked around the table.

"But if the reporting requirements demand equipment a small base doesn't possess, people are going to improvise."

Soren nodded.

"That's a concern."

"And if you ask a damaged escort to remain in danger just to obtain a better photograph of a Pendant, you may end up with another missing Pendant."

The room quieted.

Kade continued.

"Give local commanders a way to report uncertainty without treating it as failure."

Arkwright nodded slowly.

"Explain."

He considered that.

"Allow someone to say, 'We saw a Princess-like unit, but could not identify her.'"

Liora nodded.

"Rather than forcing a classification."

"Exactly."

Kade continued.

"And don't reward somebody for staying too long in a dangerous position just because they bring back a more impressive report."

Captain Soren folded her arms.

"A reasonable recommendation."

Kade glanced toward the images.

"If we can identify a lost girl safely, that's valuable."

A pause.

"But the living girls doing the identifying matter too."

Corvell smiled faintly.

"Well said."

Kade nodded.

He wasn't trying to impress her.

He'd simply watched too many people die because someone farther from the fighting had confused desirable information with information worth any cost.

He didn't intend to make the same mistake.

 

Vice Admiral Arkwright eventually rose.

The others followed.

The discussion had exceeded its allotted informal period, and the Admiral had another engagement scheduled before the evening's final reception.

But she paused beside Kade.

"Commander Bher."

He turned.

"Ma'am?"

"I'd like our analysis staff to follow up with your intelligence officer."

Kade nodded.

"Aaron Voss."

"Yes. His reports were among those reviewed for tonight's discussion."

Kade smiled faintly.

"He'll appreciate hearing that."

Arkwright considered him.

"And I'd like a more complete account of your concerns regarding Princess tactical intelligence."

He nodded.

"Within the appropriate channels, certainly."

"Good."

She hesitated.

Then added:

"I don't want you leaving with the impression that the Union has already decided what these entities are."

Kade regarded her.

"That wasn't my impression."

The Admiral nodded.

"We have theories. Evidence. Some strong identifications and a considerable amount of uncertainty."

Her expression became grave.

"Unfortunately, uncertainty doesn't make the enemy any less dangerous."

Kade looked toward the photographs.

"No, ma'am."

A pause followed.

Then he looked back.

"But it does give us a reason to keep investigating."

Arkwright studied him.

A small smile appeared.

"Yes."

She extended her hand.

"Thank you for contributing tonight, Commander."

Kade accepted it.

"Thank you for listening."

The Admiral nodded.

"Enjoy the remainder of the Ball."

He glanced toward the ballroom doors.

Then sighed.

"...I'll try."

Her smile widened slightly.

"Do."

And with that, the Vice Admiral departed.

 

Kade remained beside the table for another minute.

The display had been cleared.

The reports returned to their appropriate custody.

The officers began leaving in small groups.

Liora approached him.

For once, she wasn't smiling.

"...That was a lot."

Kade nodded.

"Yeah."

She looked toward the closed screen.

"Two people inside one Princess."

He glanced toward her.

"Maybe."

Liora nodded quickly.

"Right. Maybe."

A pause.

"Sorry."

Kade shook his head.

"Don't apologize. It's difficult not to picture."

She lowered her eyes.

He continued.

"Just remember we don't know yet."

Liora nodded.

"...I will."

Then she looked toward him.

"Horizon has really been dealing with all of that?"

Kade considered the question.

"Some of it."

He smiled faintly.

"And a great deal of unrelated paperwork."

The Commander laughed softly.

Then her expression became more thoughtful.

"I hope your people are all right."

Kade looked toward the door.

For a moment, he seemed almost weary.

Then he nodded.

"So do I."

Liora smiled faintly.

"I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Probably."

She gave a small wave.

Then departed.

Kade remained alone for another moment.

The orchestra played beyond the door.

He could hear distant laughter.

The warm sounds of a Ball continuing as though nothing dreadful had been discussed in the adjoining room.

He looked toward his hands.

Then slowly closed them.

Two people.

He couldn't get the thought out of his head.

If the Blackwake truly could force two Keelborn into one corrupted body, what did that mean for their Pendants?

For their identities?

For any hope of recovery?

And if the process was possible—

What might it do with four missing Pendants from Horizon?

He stopped that thought before it became a conclusion.

No.

He wouldn't do that.

Not without evidence.

Not to the girls.

Not to the people waiting for them.

He drew a slow breath.

Then opened his hands.

"...One thing at a time."

The words disappeared into the quiet room.

He turned.

And returned to the Ball.

 

XII. A Dance for Two Friends

Aster found him near the refreshment tables.

Or, more accurately, she spotted him standing beside a small plate of pastries with an expression that suggested he was considering whether consuming several might constitute an acceptable form of emotional support.

She approached.

Then smiled.

"Hey."

Kade looked up.

His expression softened.

"Hey."

She glanced toward the plate.

"...Long conversation?"

He sighed.

"Very."

"Important?"

"Unfortunately."

Aster studied him.

He looked tired.

Not physically exhausted, exactly.

The sort of tired that came from learning something you wished hadn't been true.

Or something that might become true.

She recognized that expression.

She'd seen it on his face after difficult casualty reports.

After meetings about the missing Pendants.

After someone asked whether the Respite Bath would definitely work.

Aster's smile softened.

"Bad news?"

Kade considered the question.

Then shook his head.

"Not exactly."

She waited.

He continued.

"Important things to think about."

Aster nodded slowly.

He looked toward her.

Then smiled faintly.

"How's your evening?"

Her expression brightened immediately.

"Oh, it's wonderful!"

"Good."

"I met some other former-player Keelborn."

He nodded.

"Saw you talking."

"Nessa's a Jervis-class destroyer."

"Nice."

"And Mirae's a light cruiser. She's been explaining how her regional command handles training."

Kade smiled.

"Sounds useful."

"It is!"

Aster laughed.

"And you'll never believe this."

He raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"One of the girls tried to practice formal dancing with her Commander before coming."

"Reasonable."

"Except he apparently kept counting the steps out loud."

Kade stared.

Aster grinned.

"In front of everyone."

He slowly closed his eyes.

"...Terrible."

"She said he looked like he was conducting a gunnery drill."

Kade burst out laughing.

The sound surprised him.

Not because the joke was particularly extraordinary.

Because he'd forgotten, for a few minutes, what laughing felt like.

Aster noticed.

Her expression softened.

Then she stepped closer.

"Hey."

He looked toward her.

"Hm?"

"You're allowed to enjoy yourself too."

Kade blinked.

She folded her arms.

"Remember?"

He considered that.

Then smiled faintly.

"...Mutual accountability?"

Aster grinned.

"Exactly."

He sighed.

"That phrase is going to outlive me."

She laughed.

Then glanced toward the dance floor.

The orchestra was playing a gentle waltz.

Several couples moved beneath the chandeliers.

Not all with perfect coordination.

A few were clearly experienced.

Others had the concentrated expressions of people who were trying desperately not to step on anyone.

Aster watched them.

Then looked toward Kade.

For a moment, she hesitated.

Her cheeks warmed slightly.

"...Kade?"

He raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

She glanced toward the floor again.

Then smiled.

"Would you like to dance?"

He stopped.

For several seconds, he looked toward the orchestra.

Then toward the couples.

Then back at Aster.

"...With me?"

She stared.

Then burst out laughing.

"No, with the Admiral you just met!"

Kade considered that.

"Potentially dangerous."

"KADE!"

He grinned.

Then his expression softened.

"Sure."

Aster blinked.

"...Really?"

"Yeah."

He placed the plate aside.

"Although I should warn you, I'm not exactly known for ballroom excellence."

She smiled.

"Neither am I."

"Tragic."

"We'll manage."

Kade nodded.

"All right."

Then he offered his hand.

Aster took it.

And together, they stepped onto the dance floor.

 

Kade remembered enough formal etiquette to avoid making an immediate disaster of the experience.

That was fortunate.

He also remembered rather more about dancing than he intended to explain.

That was less fortunate.

The orchestra began another phrase of the waltz.

He guided Aster into a comfortable position.

Not too close.

Not awkwardly far apart.

Just the ordinary posture appropriate for two friends sharing a formal dance.

Aster looked at him.

Then smiled nervously.

"...All right."

Kade raised an eyebrow.

"Ready?"

She nodded.

"Ready."

They moved.

One step.

Then another.

The polished floor passed beneath their shoes.

Aster watched his expression.

Then glanced toward their feet.

He noticed.

"Careful."

She looked up.

"Hm?"

"If you stare at your feet the entire time, you're going to run into somebody."

She laughed.

"Kade!"

"Just tactical advice."

She grinned.

"Very romantic."

He blinked.

Then raised an eyebrow.

"Practical."

Aster laughed again.

The dance continued.

Their movements weren't flawless.

Aster occasionally hesitated before a turn.

Kade adjusted the pace.

She followed.

Then corrected herself.

He smiled.

"See?"

She looked toward him.

"What?"

"You're doing fine."

Her expression softened.

"...Thanks."

They continued moving beneath the chandeliers.

Around them, other guests danced.

A few officers were discussing something even while attempting to maintain the rhythm.

One couple laughed when the man nearly lost track of a turn.

A former-player destroyer Aster recognized waved briefly from the edge of the floor.

Aster smiled back.

Then returned her attention to Kade.

For a moment, she realized something.

He was doing surprisingly well.

Very well.

She narrowed her eyes.

"...Kade."

He raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"You said you could probably manage."

"Yes."

She looked toward their feet.

Then back at him.

"...You're not bad."

He considered that.

"An encouraging assessment."

She smiled suspiciously.

"Have you done this before?"

Kade's thoughts flickered.

A ballroom in Wysteria.

An exhausting formal reception.

Ayame looking unimpressed.

Elias near the doors.

A noblewoman who had insisted on teaching the Gauntlet Hero the appropriate way to move without stepping on a ceremonial hem.

He remembered it clearly.

Far too clearly.

Then the memory disappeared behind a familiar smile.

"...I've picked up a few things."

Aster narrowed her eyes.

"From where?"

Kade shrugged.

"Life."

She stared.

Then laughed.

"You're so unhelpful!"

"Frequently."

He guided her through another careful turn.

She followed.

Comfortably.

Happily.

And somewhere beneath the glittering chandeliers of San Meridian, two friends who had spent months surrounded by damaged ships, training schedules, medical restrictions, and the aftermath of terrible fighting found themselves doing something wonderfully ordinary.

Dancing.

Not because anyone needed protecting.

Not because an order demanded it.

Simply because they wanted to.

 

Aster looked toward the far side of the ballroom.

The orchestra continued.

The elegant light fell across the polished floor.

Nearby, Nessa was laughing as her own Commander attempted a turn with somewhat less success than Kade.

The sight made Aster smile.

Then she looked back at the young man beside her.

His steel-blue eyes were attentive.

His expression relaxed.

For once, he wasn't reading a report.

Or staring at a map.

Or trying to calculate how Horizon could afford another shipment of ammunition.

He was here.

At a Ball.

With her.

Aster felt an unexpected warmth in her chest.

She knew what he had said on the aircraft.

That she was one of his closest friends.

She understood that.

And she treasured it.

His kindness didn't become less meaningful because he wasn't thinking about romance.

She was happy to be someone he trusted.

Happy to be someone he wanted beside him.

And, for tonight, she didn't need anything more complicated than that.

She smiled.

"Kade?"

He looked toward her.

"Hm?"

"Thank you."

He raised an eyebrow.

"For what?"

She glanced toward the ballroom.

Then back at him.

"For bringing me."

Kade's expression softened.

He considered that.

Then smiled.

"Glad you came."

Aster laughed softly.

"...Me too."

The music continued.

They turned together.

And for a few minutes, the Admiralty Union's complicated policies, the uncertainty surrounding the Princesses, and the enormous responsibilities waiting back at Horizon receded into the background.

They didn't disappear.

They wouldn't.

But they could wait until the music ended.

 

XIII. A Question Waiting Beyond the Music

Later, as the Ball began moving toward its final formal program, Kade stood beside one of the great windows overlooking San Meridian's illuminated harbor.

Aster had returned to her new friends for a little while.

He was glad.

She had needed this.

The chance to meet other former players who understood what it felt like to become Keelborn.

The chance to be somewhere beautiful without carrying her guns.

The chance to discover that the world beyond Horizon contained people who were living ordinary lives despite everything happening at sea.

Kade watched her laugh across the room.

Then looked toward the harbor.

The view was extraordinary.

Lights stretched along the docks.

Conventional warships rested beneath the glow of the shipyards.

Civilian vessels moved through the protected channels.

Farther away, the black Pacific disappeared beneath the night sky.

Somewhere out there, the Blackwake remained.

And now Kade had learned that other officers were seeing the same troubling signs he had.

The Princesses were not isolated rumors.

Not simply another unfamiliar enemy class.

Their emergence might represent the Blackwake's ability to seize and transform the very people fighting against it.

Former players.

Native Keelborn.

And perhaps, most horrifyingly, more than one person at a time.

He stared toward the water.

Three possibilities.

He considered them.

The first was terrible.

The second made the first far larger.

And the third—

He slowly exhaled.

The third was something he desperately hoped the analysts were wrong about.

Because if there were two distinct people trapped inside one corrupted Princess, the question was no longer simply how to defeat such an enemy.

It was whether those people could ever be separated.

Whether their Pendants could be recovered.

Whether anything of their original identities remained.

And whether trying to save them might endanger everyone attempting it.

He had no answers.

Neither did the Admiralty.

For once, he found that almost reassuring.

At least the people he'd spoken with were willing to admit it.

Kade looked toward the ballroom.

Vice Admiral Arkwright was speaking with several senior officers.

Commander Liora West stood near a table, engaged in an animated discussion about communications procedures.

Native and former-player personnel moved among one another.

Not always comfortably.

Not always in agreement.

But talking.

Listening.

Arguing.

Trying to understand.

Perhaps that had been the purpose of the invitation after all.

Not to make everyone trust the Admiralty Union.

Not to convince former players that its institutions were perfect.

But to place people who needed one another in the same room.

To make the emblem on their paperwork belong to actual faces and voices.

And to remind them that whatever their differences, the war outside those windows did not care whether its victims had once been called players or NPCs.

Aster approached quietly.

"Hey."

Kade turned.

His expression softened.

"Hey."

She glanced toward the harbor.

Then back at him.

"...Thinking about Horizon?"

He considered the question.

Then nodded.

"Partly."

Aster smiled faintly.

"I figured."

She stepped beside him.

For a while, they watched the lights together.

Then she spoke.

"Was the conversation really that bad?"

Kade hesitated.

There were details he couldn't discuss casually.

Some of the evidence remained restricted.

And he didn't want to burden Aster with unverified possibilities simply because his own mind had become occupied by them.

But there were things she deserved to know.

Things Horizon would eventually need to consider through proper channels.

He nodded slowly.

"Serious."

Aster looked toward him.

"About the Blackwake?"

"Yeah."

Her expression changed.

"The Princesses?"

Kade glanced toward her.

Then nodded.

"Among other things."

For several seconds, she said nothing.

Then she looked toward the water.

"...I was afraid you'd say that."

He sighed.

"Me too."

Aster considered that.

Then smiled faintly.

"But you're going to do something about it."

Kade blinked.

"...Am I?"

She turned toward him.

Her expression was gentle.

"You always try."

For a moment, he couldn't answer.

The words were simple.

Kind.

And a little heavier than she probably intended.

He remembered the seventeen Heroes.

The promise that nobody else would die.

The Final Wave.

The people he hadn't been able to save.

He looked toward the harbor.

Then smiled faintly.

"...I'll do what I can."

Aster nodded.

"I know."

A pause followed.

Then she glanced toward the ballroom.

"And in the meantime..."

Kade raised an eyebrow.

"Oh?"

Her expression brightened.

"I think there's another dance."

He stared.

Then slowly closed his eyes.

"...Of course there is."

Aster laughed.

"Kade!"

He looked toward her.

She grinned.

"Come on."

He considered the orchestra.

The music.

The senior officers.

The long journey that had brought them here.

And the girl standing beside him, smiling in her midnight-blue dress.

He'd spent much of the evening discussing the terrible things waiting beyond the harbor.

Perhaps another few minutes of music wouldn't hurt.

He smiled.

"All right."

Aster's eyes brightened.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

He offered his hand.

"One more."

She took it.

"Deal."

And together, they returned to the ballroom.

Behind them, San Meridian's harbor shone beneath the night sky.

Beyond its breakwaters, the Pacific remained dark and dangerous.

The questions raised that evening would not disappear.

The Admiralty Union's investigators would continue reviewing the evidence.

Horizon would still have eleven secured Pendants and four missing.

Maki and Reina would remain somewhere beyond friendly reach.

And the possibility of a third, composite kind of Princess would wait like a terrible shadow over the next intelligence report.

But tonight, Kade Bher had learned something.

The Admiralty was worried too.

Its native officers had their own missing girls.

Its former-player officers had seen horrors that matched Horizon's accounts.

And the people responsible for understanding the new Princesses were beginning to realize they might be confronting not one process, but several.

There were no easy answers.

No miraculous solutions.

Only evidence.

Questions.

And the determination to keep searching.

Inside the Grand Admiralty Assembly Hall, the orchestra began another waltz.

Aster smiled.

Kade sighed theatrically.

She laughed.

And for one more dance, the short Commander of Horizon Atoll allowed himself to be simply a young man enjoying an evening with one of his closest friends.

The war would still be there tomorrow.

For tonight, the music continued.