[404] 5.28 The Oklahoma Descends

I have heard of [Master Chef] classes capable of cooking dishes that are able to temporarily boost one’s combat parameters, aid in recovery, and perform other similarly minor miracles akin to the enhancement magic used by [Healers] and others.  Until last night, I had never had the opportunity to enjoy such delicacies firsthand.

They were nothing short of spectacular.  A veritable nirvana for the tongue all the way down to the stomach, followed by the pensive longing to return one day and enjoy a palate so refined that it’s a small wonder these meals aren’t legally banned as controlled substances.  They certainly have addictive enough qualities to them.

“Still thinking about last night?” Chloe asks as we are escorted by limousine down toward the naval yards a few miles from base.

“And you’re saying you’re not?”

“I mean, I’m not saying I’m not.  I’m just asking if you want a [Restoration] spell cast on you, or if you think you’ll be fine without it.”

“I’ll be fine without it.  I’m not going to let gluttony get in the way of my ability to fight.”  I turn to Lindsey.  “Though I have to ask.  How long have you been holding onto that ticket, and how many strings did you have to pull to get us in on such short notice?”

“About a year, and it wasn’t really me pulling the strings.  The good base commander, in his infinite wisdom, decided that if he was going to order the three of us on a clandestine mission with little warning and even less hazard pay, then the least he could do was pull a few strings.”

“So, we’ve been reduced to death row inmates being offered our last meals before being shipped off to die,” I say.

“Chloe is right.  You have developed a bit of a melodramatic streak, Seraphina.  Besides, I prefer to think of it as having something to look forward to.  And if it helps you, just think of it as telling Death to shove it where the sun don’t shine.  I hear you’ve grown quite adept at that over these past few years.”

“Thanks, Lindsey, that actually does help a lot.”  I chuckle.

I had absolutely no reason to believe the submarine in question actually would be yellow, and plenty of reasons to know that wouldn’t be the case.  I still find myself disappointed by the hull the color of cobalt-tinted steel.

As we prepare to descend into the hull of the maiden voyage of the recently-retrofitted and perhaps aptly-named USS Oklahoma, there is no fanfare.  There are no cheering masses to send us off, nor jeering protestors, nor even much in the way of the crew.  These boats were initially designed, in a world without the System, to be crewed by northwards of a hundred people.  But there are only fifteen men and women onboard as [Veilsight] surveys the surroundings, and that includes Chloe, Lindsey, and me.

It does not take long after we get set in before the hatch closes above us.  Artificial lights hum in a dim glow of light that manages to be quite harsh despite the lack of luminosity.  The captain approaches to greet us.  Lindsey salutes him, then he salutes us, then we salute him in return.

“Welcome aboard the Oklahoma, ladies,” he says.  “The first submarine in the U.S. Navy fully retrofitted and enhanced with the latest second-generation Ethertech designs.  The name is Captain Marlowe.”  He points to his name-badge for emphasis.  “I’m not going to promise you the finest and most luxurious accommodations that humanity has ever designed.  But I will promise, on my honor as a sailor and an [Ethertechnologist], that you won’t find a better or more formidable group of men and women to get you to the other end of the world.”

I am not sure if this is just a sailor’s pride or something closer to a braggadocious boast.  I choose not to take any sort of offense as he guides us to our quarters.  I find the word ‘Spartan’ somewhat weak to describe the simplicity of the quarters.  Even with modest spatial enhancements, the room is plain, more a closet than a bedroom of the size I’m accustomed to.  Compared with the sailors of old, crammed tighter than sardines on bunks with perhaps two feet of space above them while they slept two and three high in what were basically coffins, I am objectively not doing nearly as badly.

Chloe’s room is identical to mine, while Lindsey’s is slightly more austere, but still has an actual room with privacy and even a few square feet of carpeted floorspace in which to pace, were that her inclination.

“Are you going to be okay being trapped in here for the next several days?” Lindsey asks.

“I’ll be fine.”  I’ve spent more than a few sleepless nights locked in my laboratories.  “What about you, Chloe?”

“I’ll… I’ll manage.”

I hold her hand.  “We’ll be fine, Chloe.  If there’s anything I can do to help you through this, all you have to do is ask.”

Chloe shakes it off.  Her demeanor shifts slightly.  Any trace of trepidation vanishes.  “I appreciate it, Sera.  But I’ll be fine.  I promise you.”

Confidence permeates her voice, but her heart is torn.  Through our bond, I think I understand, now that I know to look.  Through her own training and day job as a hospital medic, she’s had to go through more than her fair share of traumatic events.  This seems to be some sort of emotional suppression or dissociation Skill she’s using on herself in order to comport herself through something with which she was normally unable.

I hadn’t realized until just now.  I shake my head as I pull her deeper into my embrace.  I owe her a great many apologies for failing to notice, and failing to provide comfort as I ought to have as her fiancée.

Momentum shifts as the sub’s engines roar.  The dim hum and subtle vibrations permeate the entire craft.  I suspect they will not go away until we arrive.  Lindsey takes her leave back to her own room, while I follow Chloe into her room.

“I’m sorry,” I say as I close the door behind us.

“Sorry?  Why are you apologizing now?  I already said I forgave you about what happened the other day.”

“Because I didn’t realize until just now.  I didn’t realize just how difficult all of this had been for you.  I’d–”  I pause.  “I’d taken your love and your support for granted.”

“I’m fine, Sera.  I promise.”

I don’t let go of her.  “I know you are.  I know you’ll push through.  But I don’t want you to feel that you can only be fine, Chloe.  I want you to feel comfortable.  As happy and fulfilled as you can be in these hard times.”

Chloe wraps her arms back around me.  “I hate all of this, Sera.  This stupid fighting.  These assholes that don’t realize how good they have it.  These… condescending, hypocritical pricks who think there’s anything to be gained from deliberately stoking war and killing people.  I–”  She shakes.  “I hate them so much.  I hate that they’re taking us away from Mom and Dad and from our coworkers and our other friends and I hate that they don’t care one thing about everyone whose lives are being upended or even cut short.”

Her hands clench.  Blood trickles halfway down her knuckles before her [Divine Regeneration], improved through her class change, kicks in and sends the crimson liquid right back into her veins.

“When does it all stop, Sera?  When does all this fighting and violence finally end?”

I pause for a second and hold her.  “I’m not sure that it ever does, Chloe.  People have been warring for as long as there have been people.  Probably longer still.  I imagine we’re not likely to suddenly become an enlightened species in the next few years, either.  All we can really do is keep working to protect the people we care about.”

“It’s not fair, Sera.  It’s not fair at all!”

“I know, and it sucks.”

“That’s all you can say?  That it sucks?”

I pause again, choosing my words as carefully as I am able.  “We talked about it over these past few years when we decided we didn’t want the responsibility of being some sort of global peacekeepers.  We didn’t want to be seen as some sort of dictators, no matter how beneficent our intentions might have been.  And this is the flipside of that.”

Chloe all but growls at me.  “By the goddesses, Seraphina Mortensen.  How dare you say that this is our fault!  I–”

“It’s not our fault!  The blame for this belongs solely on Apeiron, same as it was and always has been.  I’m just saying that–”

“You’re saying what, Sera?  Because it sure sounds like you’re saying that this is our fault.”

I sure as fuck don’t tell Chloe to calm down here, even though I hope that she will.  Not once in the course of human history has telling someone to calm down when they are exasperated ever done anything other than inflame tensions even further.  Instead, I remain contrite and give her a couple of seconds before I risk irritating her further.

“Well?”

I switch to telepathy.  “Nicholas and I had a talk two days ago, after I woke up in the hospital,” I start.  “He told me that he’d been working with other operatives of the government to install ray-based anti-missile defense systems throughout the United States.  Me flying across the country trying to stop the ICBM’s, to use his language, ‘slightly reduced the amount of radioactive fallout’ relative to their missile defense systems.”

“Pardon my language, Sera, but the fuck?”

“I said exactly the same thing when he said as much.  Apparently, and I’m not sure how much I can trust the old fart, but, he said it was a, and this pissed me off too, ‘predictable but regrettable consequence of our decision to withdraw from public affairs.”

Chloe seethes, though her anger is no longer directed at me.  For a moment, she conjures a single silvery blade in her hand, a new [Skill], not one of her twinned longswords.  Then she shakes her head and allows it to disappear back in the [Ether].  “Deep breaths, Chloe,” she says to herself, through the bond such that I can hear.

“That damn bastard,” Chloe says a few seconds later. “Just fucking using us, then twisting things around to support his own objectives the moment we’re no longer of use to him.”

“Even so, he’s still… useful.  As much as I agree with you, he’s useful.”

“And that’s what’s so damn frustrating about it, Sera.  He’s not even a bad person, exactly.  He’s just…”

“So self-assured of his own importance and that of the military that he feels a need to bend everything and everyone around him to preserve the military as a hierarchical institution at the expense of the broader objectives he should be concerned about?”

Chloe blinks twice.  “I don’t know if I would have said it like that, but, uh, yes.  That sounds about right.  But also, who are you and what did you do with my Sera?”

I just shrug.  “I wouldn’t have come up with something like that on my own.  I just know that some of the other faculty say similar things about the central administrators.  And they whine about the Department of Education and the accreditation bodies.”

Chloe rolls her eyes.  “Ass kissers all the way up.”

“And shit flowing all the way back down to the bottom.  A giant pyramid of it, in fact.”

Chloe kisses me.  “You know, I’m feeling a little better now.”

“I’m glad, love.”  I sit down on her bed, and she sits next to me.  “And I’m sorry I haven’t done enough to support you. I didn’t realize until we started moving about how much all of this had bothered you.  How you were using that Skill to block out your own emotions.”

“And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.  It’s just so much to try to take in, right when I’m fighting with all these new emotions.  And I guess I forgot that it was hard for you, learning how to deal with all your new Class impulses as well.”

“It has been over three years for both of us since we’ve had to deal with a Class change.”

Chloe yawns, then lies down, curling up and resting her head in my lap.  “I’m going to rest for a bit.  You’re welcome to stay here as long as you’d like.”

I don’t get up for a good while after.