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I was working in my lab, late one night...
Topic Started: Oct 3 2008, 04:29 PM (861 Views)
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Previously Nex Terren
Octavia's finger twitched slightly, and the thin metallic tube in front of her ignited with a searing blue flame. A smile curled on the side of her lip that still could; and lifting up the blowtorch her attention turned to the object held by the clamp in front of her. The object was rounded in the centre, but the central ring was set with large flat prongs that blossomed around the edge like the petals of some giant metallic flower. When turned quickly enough these could slice right through flesh and bone in a matter of seconds, but that was hardly the intention for these were turbine blades. To be exact; Imperial Aerofacture mark CXXVII-B turbine blades specifically designed for the refit that had turned the basic Spectre class into the superior Elites, but who else about here would have known that without looking at the plans?

Right now, Octavia was busily trying to improve on the technological and aeronautical knowledge of the Imperial Aerofacture Company by redesigning these 'B' turbines into a 'C' Version of the same. Something that Imperial Aerofacture had never done. Admittedly that wasn't hard; Imperial Aerofacture had vanished from the face of Valua on the night of falling moonstones, and as none of the Elite class had served in the Armada since Galcian's uprising there hadn't been a call for replacements. But a week of testing and retesting had left Octavia firmly convinced that the design could become slightly more efficient with perhaps just a little bit of augmentative tweaking...

Her blowtorch flared again, and pulling down her goggles to cover the single eye she could still claim to owning, Octavia pressed it to the outer edge of the turbine prong. Just a little bend was all it'd need to increase speed and efficiency of the engines, if her plan had gone correctly, but if this worked it'd be a bend for every turbine on each ship of the fleet, plus all the spares. Still... once the essential value was proven, then how hard would it be for lesser engineers to mangle up her plans?

The thought made her wince. All too easy, really. So she'd at least have to watch the testing once all refitted ships were put through their paces... even if just to know who she'd be able to trust in future.

Pressing the torch to the metal, Octavia grinned excitedly as she saw the side of the turbine starting to glow with heat. But she kept on moving the flame, and only once the glow had left redness behind to turn an almost brilliant yellow-white did Octavia bring hammer to turbine. She struck it thrice, then thrice again a little way down toward the turbine wheel, and once more in between where the metal hadn't followed the contours of her earlier hammering. She checked it over, inspected it carefully for mistakes, and then... she was done. Had she been provided with a of water bucket then she might have cooled the turbine herself, but as things were she hadn't, and so sitting down at her desk again Octavia Gnack turned off the blowtorch, and started to read from her many and varied notes under the flickering artificial light...




Looper's Ocean base was a boring place for someone like Illyrian, a mercenary with no place in the normal scheme of military orders like this. He was reduced to wandering around waiting for the occasional meeting of the others, when plans were made and orders were issued. Illyrian snorted; he knew what he was going to do already. His ship was Yafutoman, and in need of upgrading. He would fly her to the Imperial City, to the docks he'd bought her at, and have them upgrade and outfit her with the latest military hardware he could obtain. By the time the attack happened his ship would be ready, and the Black Fleet would have an operative inside the city.

Until then, though... "I'm bored," he said at random, startling a passing flunky. The flunky didn't recognize the Black Mage, but he looked powerful, so he scurried away. Illyrian smirked, but the event didn't relieve his boredom, so he kept on walking. "Something to do, something to do..."

Eventually he came across a workshop, and inside was a weird woman working on an engine. Curious, he watched her for a while, standing silently in the shadowy doorway. He could see she had been in an accident, or something; a great deal of her body had been replaced and augmented by machinery and implants. She worked with a swift competency Illyrian admired, even though he didn't recognize what she was doing; he knew a good job when he saw one, no matter what it involved.

"You need to cool that," the sorcerer said casually, walking into the room. There was a brief flash of blue light, a muttered "Wevli!", and a cool blast of air wafted across the turbine, cooling the metal. "There you are," he said, turning to face Octavia. "Hmm, you look familiar..." He knew he'd heard something about a woman around here who was half-machine, but it was slipping his mind at the moment. Ah well. "This looks like one of the turbines from the warships, are you upgrading them?"




The door creaked slowly open, but lost in her readings and planning the next stages of her upgrade programme, Octavia failed to hear any of the noises that would otherwise have alarmed her. Footsteps crept across the bare steel floor, but still the engineer failed to turn to notice. Even when she heard the voice, Octavia only paid the barest of attention...

And then she heard the sudden snap, the sound of metal under stress. Her head turned about to look, the pale blue moonstone-glow of her artificial eye casting across to the Turbine... and her natural eye grew wide with shock, for where there had once been the dull glow of cooling red-hot metal, now the rotor stood on the desk with merely the dull sheen of unpolished metal. Quite fortuitously, the winds had blown the metal cool...

Quite unfortunately, however, the scalding heat had been carried by the wind, and now the workbench on the other side blazed merrily away. Flames licked upward along the hardwood surface, small explosions in the wake as bottles of chemical agents reacted where the fire touched. Plumes of various-coloured smoke billowed toward the ceiling vent, taking with the plans for her ideas of improvements to hull design for an increase in battleship speed.

Her single eye hardened, and Octavia glared venomously as she spun herself about to see the form of a nearby man. Her hand twitched, and mechanical fingers whirred and clicked as if restless.

"I was!" she snapped quickly, her head jerking to shake a strand of her remaining hair away from Octavia's face, her artificial arm placing itself angrily upon her hip. "But now I'm going to have to clean up this mess draw that plan over again. And..." she paused, her head tilting quizzically. "Who are you, and what're you doing in my Lab? Get out Get out GET OUT!" she snapped again, glaring at the mage. "I've got to go put this fire out now!"




"Oh my... how unfortunate," Illyrian murmured, gazing at the burning desk. "I am of course terribly sorry, and..." but he was cut off as Gnack yelled at him angrily. His face hardened, and he sniffed. "Look, techie, mind your tone or I'll rip your tongue out and fuse all your implants into a useless metal lump," he replied, raising his voice only slightly. He also raised his yellow moonstone, which crackled viciously; his eyes flashed as well. "See if I don't!"

He looked at the desk again. "Any decent scientist could redraw blueprints from memory, you know," the sorcerer drawled, lowering the stone. "Now, please, calm down, I meant no harm." Indeed, Illyrian had been trying to help, a rare thing from him.

"And if you must know," here his voice took on the proud tones of a drawing room introduction, "I am Illyrian Fortunos Telcondera, perhaps better known as the Black Mage," and he gave a small bow, an arrogant smile on his face. "Now, what would your name be?"




"Oh, please. As if I couldn't just build them better next time." Octavia glowered, throwing the Mage a dismissive wave as she turned back toward the burning table. "And obviously you weren't listening; I just said I'd have to redraw the blueprints." she scowled, lifting up a nearby extinguisher and priming the nozzle with her mechanical hand. She pressed; and the device released a small part of a Crystali-charge over the table, smothering the workbench in a misty haze and coating her many instruments in a thin sheen of melting purple ice.

Straightening, she turned back toward the mage and squinted with her single eye. "And didn't I ask you to leave, anyway?" she looked Illyrian right in his eyes, studying for a moment as the man introduced himself, his conceit overwhelmingly self-evident to the engineer. Quite what such a self-important blowhard was doing strutting around her engineering department was beyond her, but here he was.

"Never heard of you, Mr. Terracotta." she deliberately mis-spoke his name, a thin edge of a smile creeping back onto her lip as she wondered how the man would react. "As for myself; Octavia Victoria Gnack; Miss. That's Gnack with a 'G' if you intend on writing it down, assuming that you know how to."

She turned again; tutting slightly at the sight of the damp and damaged bench. Her head shook, then with a slight tilt her eye glanced about to see the mage just in the corner of her vision.

"And it looks like you're still here, despite my repeated requests for you to leave me alone, so I can only assume that there's actually some reason you're here other then to gawp. What is it?" she demanded, her arms folding once more.
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Previously Nex Terren
That had gone splendidly. Perfect almost seemed not powerful enough, not nearly as absolute as was to describe that meeting. Castdrell was now the Admiral by unanimous and heart-felt support of every officer of high ranks save--of course--the formal Admiral. He had then--within an hours time--solved one of the fleets worst problems; stagnant existence. They had fervently agreed upon the Battle of Bluehiem, praising one Officer Blackman--or now, Flagship Captain Blackman--for the idea of the battle, and for valuable intelligence, Captain Mhlenkampf--now promoted to First Captain--for his battle plan. Although not finalized, it was still commendable. Past commendable.

And then...

”Captain Blackman--who couldnt be here with us tonight--has promised us something more than staged battles or information on an enemy.”

Castdrell beckoned a soldier to him with a wave. The soldier appeared, as requested, with a small chest closed by two large locks that each appeared more secure than that belonging to a Captains Quarters. The Admiral produced two keys, and opened the hardened steel locks. Inside were brown silk bags small enough to be easily hidden in the palm of the hand, each tied with golden strings. He nodded to the soldier, and the young man sat a bag in front of each of the officers.

“Inside you will find Jadeite of remarkable quality. Carat for Carat Jadeite is the most expensive gemstone in the world, even more than diamond.” A smile dawned on the Admirals face as he scanned the Captains. No one, truly no one present knew about this. Watching the Captains, Vice Captains faces told the Admiral a great deal. “Vice Admiral Blackman has discovered a rich resource of this jewel, as well as a commendable deposit of iron and even some copper. Best of all, the location of this mine--creation of the facility has begun already--is very possibly both more secure and hidden than any we could have hoped for, as well as just short of perfect for the base of our operations; it is center to the three air powers of Arcadia. Blackman is to thank for this discovery. The exact location and nature of the facility is secret for the time being, but it shall not remain such for long...”

The reaction to that last part had been mixed. The promise of wealth--and the unmentioned promise of salvation from the fleets financial crisis--was generally accepted with hopeful looks and approving nods, however what followed afterwards? It did make sense, the move; it was a better location, more secure, and it allowed them to keep a very close eye on the treasure. However to some this base, Loopers Island, had become home. To others it was illogical to abandon a highly fortified position. To others it was a risky move, this conclusion based on what information that was provided. To others the idea actually sounded sound and ideal from the first hearing of it. To others...

But discord to such a degree was a good thing. About some things equals should think differently, especially in an organization such as a fleet. When intelligent men had different views and discussed them it helped to seal a concept; hardening into something that couldnt fracture under trial. One-minded ideas often were sad things for the simple reason that most men refused--to the point of convincing themselves of some disability they had--to accept several different mindsets.

Castdrell wasnt one of those men, or at least not entirely. He was able to hammer out ideas rough enough and relatively quickly, but it wasnt the same as actually other officers thinking over and questioning his thoughts. Having those other officers attacking his ideas was one of the strange blessings of officers meetings.

His hand fingered the document it held. The Battle Operations report for the Second Battle of Yafuoma, or the Second Battle of Bluhiem, or the Battle over Bluhiem, it depending on which Captain was asked. He had all but memorized the words, reading, rereading, and rereading it until he was sure of its perfection.




Operations Order
Situation

Enemy Forces

We had initially expected resistance of little or no consequence. However that is the case no longer. The Yafutoman Navy has constructed new warships; battleships of outstanding grade. This is new information to the fleet, and as such weve been able to discover precious little. From what we can tell, based on reports of the engine noise, patrol speed, and simple visual reports, the ships are based on Elite--not Spectre--designs. Although we have reason to believe that Yafutoman couldnt build such western designs as well as our own Elite, we are not going to assume such. Based on what little we know, we are going to expect a tenth improvement on the Elite in every area until we are proved otherwise. From this point on, these warships will be known as Yafutoman Elites

It is unknown, unfortunately, if this Yafutoman Elite is part of the Guardian Fleet, however unless the Yafutoman Elties are plentiful, the force of the Guardian Fleet will be a threat, but little more; if we act intelligently, cunningly, and keep our wits about us victory over it is all but guaranteed.

Besides the Gaurdian Fleet there is only one other threat to us: Yafutomas First Fleet. Led by Admiral Fuchida, by all reports a strategic and tactical mastermind. We have mixed reportssome of them officialon the true number and nature of the crafts, however we know that they have at least five Yafutoman Elites, among their other craft. The reports agree on at least one thing; with our knowledge of the Yafutoman Elites figured in the First Fleet has at least equivalent firepower to us.

Are reports show that the First Fleet will not be at the Imperial City--although there is at least reasonable cause to suspect that the reports may be incorrect--however they will be near the city; near enough to engage us eventually.

Assuming that our plan at drawing them out is unsuccessful, they will have a strong home-field advantage; the Guardian Wall is anything but a defensive force to be dismissed. While defensive, it can be dismissed in its offensive power; although it has cannons, they are limited and underpowered.

As before stated Admiral Fuchida of the First Fleet is a strategic and tactical mastermind if reports are to be trusted. If reports are to be further believed she has capable and competent officers under her. The same can not be said about the Guarding Fleet with all honesty, however; although incredibly dedicated to their nation, their leaders, Jao and Mao, are not trained in combat, having received--as far as we know--everything they have in naval warfare from the battles theyve led since. Based on what we have seen in the first battle of Yafutoma, their tactics will be based around hit-and-run, as well as boarding. While the hit-and-run will be effective based on Yafutoma speed and maneuverability, boarding likely will result in victory for us: our troopsgenerally speakingare extremely better trained, experienced, and armed than the most elite Yafutoman forces. If the Admirals take part in the boardings, however, the tables will change.

For the sake of caution, we will assume, if even we have no reports of such a nature, that they have indeed received training since becoming Admirals, however still they cant begin attest to the same training and experience that the officers of the Black Fleet have. On the other hand Admiral Fuchida does indeed have the skills to out-perform our finest Captains.


Friendly Forces

The Hawk Guard, our elite force, will manage the retrieval of Bluheim, armed with the Immolator Class Warship and the Two Oil Liners. This task force will be led by Captain Iagez, and managed and assisted by Chief of Engineering Gnack. The task force will be designated as Mission Blue.

The rest of the fleet will act as a supportive element, divided into four distinct parts.

First Captain Mhlenkampf, Captain of the Elite Class Ship, the Requiem, composes Air Support Two. Besides assisting Air Support One, he will engage Fleet Ones flagship if it appears. If the chance arises, he will board the vessel in an attempt to distract Admiral Fuchida from her fleet.

Air Support Three is composed of three Nasr Long Range Gunboat Supporters, the Shaitan, the Simoom, and the Sirocco. Due to a personnel shortage, they will be crewed by Narsian mercenaries. Included in this packet are the full specs on the ship, however they have one important advantage: Their main cannons, three-barrel repeaters, have a range of over four times that of an average modern-combat cannon. Air Support Three will cover Air Support One and Two, as well as act as look-outs. Captain Kharim, of the NLR Gunboat the Shaitan, will act as the working commander of Air Support One, however his authority is limited; ultimately he will be under either Flagship Captain Blackman, or First Captain Mhlenkampf, and should report to the acting officer for instruction.

Air Support One is the main support unit. Composed of the rest of the fleet, it boasts the greatest firepower, and flexibility due to its numbers and the performance of its crafts. The commander will be Flagship Captain Blackman, leader of this operation.

Lastly, is Black Snake. This is a stealth unit, composed of the Black Mage and his ship. He will befriend the Yafutoman fleet, and turn on them at the opportune moment. Needless to say, the Black Mage is an incredibly powerful mage, and his abilities are not to be underestimated, even when not on a battleship.


Mission

The battleground will take place above, around, and to the east of Yafutoma, with a focal point on Mt. Kazai. It will begin a hour after at dawn, and continues until Bluheim is safely evacuated.

Execution

The battle plan is as follows. Be advised, however, that the contents are meant to be flexible, and will be changed, dismissed, or added to as deemed as necessary by Flagship Captain Blackman.

A small group of hired Yafutoman Mercenaries will plant shrapnel explosives randomly about the Yafutoman city. These explosives will be in places that dont draw attention from patrols, and that further wont draw attention to any pattern that they are located in when set off; the Yafutomans should have no clue that there are explosions, instead they should believe them as cannon fire when they go off.

Air Support One, Two, and Three will approach from the east. About the time we are spottedfar, far out of range from cannon fireselect Elite Class Warships will fire their cannons. The planted explosives will detonate, giving the impression that the Elite Class have extreme-ranged weapons, over two-times the range as the farthest that actually exist in Arcadia. The rest of One, Two, and Three will take position.

We are not certain exactly how effective this will be, however we do have parameters for our expectations. It should not be more successful than breaking their formation as they rush to engage us, and it should not be less successful than a lingering threat: we do not believe that they will be able to discover or reason that we dont have cannons of such range until it is no longer of concern.

At this point either the enemy will come to engage us, or we will have to come to them. Although clearly the first situation gives us the advantage, the second will not harm the battle irreparably; we will still outnumber and outgun their homefleet greatly, and the tactical lose of maneuvering towards them will not be tremendous.

Either outcome we are to quickly draw or push them away from the city (by now we will have penetrated the defense of the Guardian wall, and likely they will like to push/draw us away to make sure their city is not in the crossfire) towards the west, farther away from Mt. Kazai.

When Captain Iagez of the Hawk Guard deems it safe, he will launch an assault on Mt. Kazai with Mission Point. After quickly clearing away any opposition they might find, they are to secure Bluheim with the oil liners by the tactic that Captain Iagez and Chief of Engineering Gnack determine.

Hence forth the battle will be played out with few pre-created complications and, thusly, with a great degree of flexibility. Either when Bluheim is secured, Mission Blue is endangered, or the Black Fleet is about to retreat, Black Snake will be called to action. Taking the enemy by surprise, he will turn the tables abruptly in our favor, if they werent already. Hopefully this will confuse and disorient the enemy.

As stated before, Air Support Two will engage Fleet Ones flagship, in hopes of distracting Admiral Fuchida from her fleet.

Coordinating Instructions

During this battle operation we will use three codes for transmission. The codes are included later in this packet on separate sheets, enough to give all your communication officers the codes the night before the battle. We will be using a high frequency that requires advance radio equipment to receive. There is a chance the Yafutoman fleet will not be able to receive the signal, however if they do, it is highly unlikely that a majority of their ships will.

Code B-12 is our rapid communication code; it permits very quick communications, however is easy to crack. When/If the enemy shows signs of discovering the code, we will revert to Code J-1

Code J-1 is marginally slower than Code B-12, although somewhat more secure. When/If the enemy shows signs of discovering the code, we will begin to exclusively use Code X-Delta.

Code Puppis, as you well know, is the Black Fleets primary coding. Although a sluggish way of communication, it is near impossible to crack; I assure you that we will have no problems with the enemy discovering this code. It is suggested that highly secure information should only be broadcasted using this code, and that most other orders not use this code.

Rehearsals and inspections

You will be suspected to see that all of your officers are thoroughly briefed and tested in Yafutoman ship technology and tactics, and that the officers responsible for your soldiers be given repeatedly advance drills that pertain to Yafutoman infantry combat, as well as tested in Yafutoman boarding and boarding defense procedures.

You are held responsible for your officers filing reports on their soldiers current status/progress as well as filing reports on the officers themselves, seeing that changes be made in training/drills/testing as necessary, and have a final report on your officers and soldiers before the battle.

Exiting and After Battle Coordination

Black Snake will not be rejoining us. Mission Blue will advance to our new Head Quarters All other parties, however, will rejoin in extreme eastern mid-ocean at extreme low-altitude. There we will return to our current Head Quarters.

Debriefings

After the fleet reaches Head Quarters all officers will be expected to debrief to their commanding officer within twelve hours. Sixteen hours after the battle, the Captain of each ship will debrief to the Admiral Dorherty and the Flagship Captain Blackman. The debriefing should be standard in naturelosses, repairs, status of crafts, etc. are all expected. At twenty-four hours the Admiral and Flagship Captain will have provide a complete debriefing to the Captains and Vice Captains.

Chief of Engineering Gnack, however, should have a complete report on Bluhiem containing every aspect of the creator, its damage, possible uses, materials required for projects, etc. that she can devise. Her report will not be due until after the battle, the return of the main-fleet to the current HQ, and then the move to the new.

Service & Support

We are limited in supplies of current, however they should be past sufficient for this battle. Included in this report is a list of supplies you are rationed. If changes are needed, please report to your assigned supply officer.





And that was it.

He had poured countless hours into writing that, and Blackman had nearly tripled that count. Perfection, as near as the now-Admiral would ever have thought he could manage. But there were loose threads to tie up. Gnack, was one of those.

Followed and proceeded by two pairs of Elite Guards, he was well protected even though the possibility of a threat was non-existent. More importantly than the protection, thusly, was the image that it gave. Images were greatly importantafter all, they were Arcadias greatest weapon, or at least they were in the Admirals eyesand Castdrell further displayed this importance by the hawk that perched on his right hand.

In this manner he proceeded to Octavias lab.

A guard ran before him, knocking twice on the door, and announcing the Admiral Dorhertya man a rank hirer than last he met Gnack. With a quiet smile on his face, Castdrell awaited Gnack to open the door.
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"I've never heard of you either," Illyrian replied calmly, impervious to Octavia's pointed remarks. She was obviously some sort of engineer, and he'd just burnt up some of her blueprints. Her ire was understandable, but if she tried to force him out he'd have to show her a thing or two. He'd shown greater men and women a thing or two before, putting this Gnack woman back into her place would be but a twitch of his hand. Of course, violence was ill-advised; he was a mercenary here, and he knew better then most that mercenaries were usually frowned on.

He was about to continue when someone knocked on the door and announced an Admiral Dorherty. "Who now?" the mage murmured, turning. The name rung a distant bell, but the man facing him, flanked by two guards, was not familiar. "Greetings, sir," Illyrian said, giving a small bow. "Were you looking for Miss Gnack?" His eyes took in every detail of the admiral, from the hawk to the document, and he reached out to take the papers. "Ah... battle orders, how opportune."

Quickly he scanned over the document, absorbing the words and filing away pertinent info. He snorted in amusement as he read his own role; stealth, betrayal, disarray. Truly the work of a snake. "You should look at this," the mage remarked, handing the orders to Octavia. "Very interesting, well thought-out. Whoever wrote them knows his tactics." There was an admiring tone in his voice; a rare thing.




The mages retort made Octavia roll her eyes; as if shed even expected Illyrian to know who she was? Despite the calmness of his voice it sounded as if hed taken the knock to his supposed fame personally, and the thought made the side of Octavias face that could curl with a slight smile of wry amusement. He still hadnt answered her question, though perhaps this would require the services of her new bodyguard? Unfortunately, Albus had popped out for a moment to answer a call of nature perhaps the reason the Mage had gotten into her laboratory at all, she supposed? Her own fault, then shed ordered Albus to go. Not a mistake shed make again now that she knew there were troublemakers like this Illyrian around

But before she could continue with her rebuke of this intruder there was a knock at the door; followed by a voice announcing The Admiral Dorherty. Her brow wrinkled; had he used that title for himself the last time theyd met? But no matter, for when the mercenary opened the door for the guest Octavia could see that it was clearly the same man.

And then the arrogant mercenary barged into the admiral, and literally stole his documentation sheets before Castedrell could get a word in edgewise! An expression of silent mirth spread across the side of her face that could still make one; if the Admiral had newly promoted himself then a show of weakness this early on might fatally undermine his position in the eyes of the rest of the fleet. And that meant that the arrogant mercenary mage would be almost certain to get a rebuke, perhaps more?

She took the document as the man thrust it into her hand, but narrowed her eye with a glare toward the mercenary. Perhaps I will. she answered Illyrian. If the Admiral agrees. The way you snatched those papers from him, Admiral Dorherty hadnt been given a chance to give either of us permission to read them. she crowed. Stealing the battle-plans from a Valuan Admiral is a capital offence, you know? she smirked, hoping to enjoy watching the arrogant mercenary mage squirm. And it wouldnt do to undermine discipline within the fleet by letting you off. But perhaps the Admiral might be forgiving enough to let you off with a mere flogging?

Octavia folded her arms, feeling momentarily triumphant.





The muffled clanking of her boots on steel hung dully in the air as Captain Semele Viridian strode purposefully through the night, her eyes afire and murderous thoughts chasing each other through her head.

Not that this was unusual, really. She was always raging at some unfortunate soul or another; her temper was one of the main things a soldier had to learn to deal with to survive in the Black Fleet. But tonight, it was different. Tonight, Semele was out for the blood of an Admiral. Tonight, she would force him to his knees, and make him bow to her will.

Yes, the newly-appointed Admiral Dorherty had been wrong in assuming that his plans had been unanimously taken to. Oh, not that Semele was opposed to it, exactly. The idea of lifting Bluheim straight of the side of Mt. Kazai was appealing in every respect. What bothered her was the role she was now required to play: her beautiful mighty Ignis Fatuus detailed to Air Support only, herself at the beck-and-call of Captain Blackman!

Never mind that only two of her fellows had been detailed with a command post. Never mind that Blackman was a good commander, likely to use the Ignis Fatuus to her fullest potential. No, Semele felt personally and royally snubbed. Why, even that mercenary had been given special instructions! Why should she, with her vast skills and ship unique in all the Black Fleet, be overlooked in the plan?! It was a challenge against her, she was sure. Well, she would not back down!

Yet Semele Viridian, paranoid and violent as she might be, was not a stupid woman. She knew better than to confront the Admiral during the meeting, displaying his error of judgment in front of all his underlings; that was the surest way to turn a commander nasty, to publicly show dissent. Far better it was, though it gnawed at her all day, to wait until she could do it privately.

And so wait she had. Now she found herself striding toward Gnack's laboratory, ready to tear into the Admiral at the drop of a hat. She strode straight past the guards, who saw her manner and quickly got out of the way lest they be trampled. Striding to the door, she threw it open and marched in.




A cold light captured Castdrells eyes. No, perhaps it was not the most imperialistic, darkest, or even the most commanding look that a man is capable of. Instead it was only in part each of these things, just enough for the man to make his message clear by his stare alone.

“Master Telcondera,” The Admiral’s words were unmistakably slow and deliberate. Surprisingly, like his gaze, his voice was nothing particularly strong otherwise; just giving enough of a hint, when paired with his words, so that his feelings towards the mage and his actions were incredibly clear. “I was told that you were a magic user with practically god like powers, that you had weathered more battles than most soldiers twice your age, that there was more intelligence and cunning in your soul than most captains have in their entire crew.” He paused, wetting his lips. “I never thought that all those skills could be entirely useless. Worse, in fact. Detrimental.”

“You see, Black Mage, even if the Lord Admiral was here today, and I was but a private, that man would pay me more respect, if not the respect found for serving with him, respect as a personthat he would have at least asked for the papers. At least that. And I assure you that I am not a private, and you, quite frankly, do not even rank as one yourself.”

“If anyone but a Captain did what you just did to me in my fleet, it would be fine, I assure you fine grounds for executionand if a Captain was the one committing the crime, he would have to have an outstanding record and a truly remorseful heart to not suffer removal from service.”

“Do you understand why? Because if you so outwardly, so unabashedly flaunt all code for respect and authority here when there is no show to make... what little doubt I have that you wont do worse on the battlefield counts for nil. Master Telcondera”

It was then that he heard from the distance the deliberate march of death that could only be attributed to a woman. Yes, perhaps that was a bit of a over-dramatic view for Castdrell, a man of war and many battles, to have but he had known his share of terrible women, women that always got their way.

And there was only one such woman to be found on that island. The Admiral had to think fast. He almost always seemed to be the case with the fairer sexhad no idea what she was mad about, but it was best to defuse the situation as quickly as possible regardless of knowledge or ignorance. Preferably he would do so before he got the rough side of the Captains tongue; last thing he needed was another subordination, especially from her. He had a better chance with challenging a thousand Illryians than just one Captain Semele Viridian.

“Master Telcondera, running a tight ship is not a cliche, its a truth, and something a navy demands, and something this navy was founded on. Leading a ship of authority, respect, and precision. Master Telcondera, no man, no woman on this entire island does a finer job of that than Captain Virdian. Master Telcondera, you are a fine mage, a cunning man, and a scholar by all Ive been told, however to work in this fleet youll need to be a soldier as well, and a soldier knows how to show due respect and where his place is. If you wish to continue to serve in this fleet, if you wish to make your name known to the ages of history as has been promised to you, I will require of present two things.”

He heard the footsteps no longer. Either it wasnt him who she was after, or she was standing behind him...

“They are, simply Captain Virdian. You will report to her immediately, and tell her what you just did. I will send a guard along to see that you tell a true tale. She will punish you as she deems necessary, and will take over responsibility of your involvement in the fleet, including your part in the upcoming battle.”

“You are a tool, a weapon, and a gentlemen able to command these aspects of yourself to their fullest. You have become something that even my finest men could only hope to be. I do not mean to devalue these facts accomplishments made by natural talent, beyond commendable dedication, and a character I might point to for others to look upon. I ask you that you do not read my words wrong, master mage.”




Illyrian regarded Dorherty with a faint trace of contempt, though he veiled it beneath a facade of deference. He knew about the rigidity required in a military operation, but had hoped these people would know enough about him to not expect such from him. Apparently, though, Dorherty either did not know this or was choosing to ignore it. The barbed words of praise were little better, in fact they made it worse. The sorcerer could almost hear that insufferable freak of a woman snickering behind him!

Approaching footsteps interrupted the Admiral, though, and Illyrian raised an eyebrow, curious as to who would be so intimidating that a newly appointed admiral would be nervous at their approach. Not himself, naturally, as he was right there... something about those steps made him think 'woman', though... then he had it.

His suspicions were confirmed as the new arrival came up, and Dorherty changed tactics in mid-sentence. Illyrian suppressed a smirk; he did not wish to antagonize anyone too much today, and the admiral looked plenty antagonized already. His eyes flickered over Viridian, giving her an impression of being probed and analyzed in that one swift glance. The impression passed as he faced the admiral again. "With all due respect, I do not appreciate being referred to as a 'tool', Admiral," Illyrian replied quietly, giving the other man a formal bow. "Your request, however, is quite fair. I shall be most honored to accompany Captain Viridian."

He turned and bowed to the captain. "My lady?" he inquired politely, the very picture and essence of gentlemanly conduct and manners, with hardly a trace of his usual overbearing arrogance and general disdain. Quite the actor, him.
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Octavia silently crowed as she listened to Castdrell rebuke the mage, her arms folded. Only the merest upward curl of her lip betrayed the engineer's extreme amusement at the hole that the mage had so readily dug for himself, her figure remaining otherwise calm and still. She waited patiently to hear what form Illyrian's punishment would take, all the while savouring the sight of the Admiral explaining to the arrogant mage in no uncertain terms just how he'd messed up. Unfortunately, Illyrian appeared to receiving this rebuke with deferential stoicism... it seemed the idiot had just enough brains to learn not to anger the Admiral further, then.

Approaching footsteps sounded from further down the corridor, but Octavia didn't look away for the source until a female Captain stepped forward to stand behind the Admiral himself. She glanced toward the thunder faced woman for a moment's assessment, then back toward Castdrell. It appeared this Captain had come here to meet with the Admiral, and not herself... which was just fine for Octavia. The fewer interruptions in her work she got, the better things would be.

She continued to listen, and as Admiral Dorherty pronounced his punishment she tilted her head, slightly disappointed that the arrogant Mage wouldn't be to badly punished for setting fire to her laboratory... and for his theft of the Admiral's documents, she reminded herself. But.. the Admiral hadn't let him off, had he? No, he'd merely passed the pronouncement of sentence over to this Captain Viridian - who, if her guess was any good, was most likely the Captain who'd just turned up. And if the mage behaved to Captain Viridian like he'd behaved in her laboratory, then who knew what punishment Illyrian might end up receiving? A smile broke for a moment upon Octavia's face, then sweeping it away from her face she stepped forward past Illyrian, and threw Admiral Dorherty an out-of-practice but acceptable salute.

"Admiral Dorherty." Octavia stated primly, releasing her salute and allowing her hand to fall level with her mechanical other. "I wish to inform you that Blueprints were complete; and will be so again once I redraw the one that some intruder..." and here she threw Illyrian a venomous stare "...burned to ash during his unwanted visit. It shouldn't take longer then a quarter-hour, and then we'll be able to start on all the fleet refits. Are there any particular ships you'd like me to prioritise...Sir?" she added, the last word almost an afterthought.




At Octavia's words, Illyrian sighed and repressed the urge to rub the bridge of his nose. "Forgive me, Captain, Admiral," he murmured, turning to face the half-metal woman. "Miss Gnack, I have no idea what you mean," he said in a calm, cool voice, no hint of intended violence anywhere. "I came into your workshop uninvited, yes. But I saw you had a project going on and decided to make myself useful." The way he inflected the word 'useful' clearly implied he rarely deigned to do such.

"Furthermore, I certainly did not intend to burn your blueprints," he continued. "And while I am of course apologetic for the mishap, it was not done out of malice or any desire to inflict harm. And, as you said yourself, you will have the plans redrawn in a short time; it is not such a setback as you are trying to pin on me." He seemed about to say something more, then decided not to, merely giving Octavia a polite nod of the head and turning back to Viridian. "After you, Captain," he murmured politely, and he followed her down the hall.

"I was wandering about the base, you see," he began, describing his actions, "and came across Miss Gnack working in that lab. I saw she had a project going, and I figured I would try and leave a good impression," which was, itself, a rare occurrence. "So I summoned the winds of the Blue Moon and cast my spell, cooling the fan blades she had been reshaping just before.

"Unfortunately the wind carried the heat over to some papers, setting them on fire and ruining the schematics. She overreacted quite badly to this, shouting and making an overblown ruckus, and proving herself a hypocrite as well in claiming she would have the plans redrawn in a short time and the designs improved upon!" He shook his head ruefully. "I assure you, Captain, I am not at fault. Nevertheless, if you see fit to inflict a retribution within reason, I shall be bound to obey it."

Then he sighed. "Best make it quick, however. I depart for Yafutoma to begin my part in the plans of attack within the hour." His ship was being outfitted for the journey, with supplies, fuel, and ammunition, and a small team of marines had been provided as well, to assist him during the battle. It would be the first true test of the Dark Score Run's combat potential; combined with the new magic cannon, it would be an epic test indeed.

Just then, a man in a ragged black uniform came up to Illyrian, saluting smartly. "Sir! Your ship is ready for departure and outfitted per your instructions! Sir!" Illyrian nodded and returned his salute. "Good man. Go back, get ready, I'll be there in a few minutes." The man, who was among the crew of marines assigned to Illyrian's command, saluted again and set off. The sorcerer turned to Semele with a look of regret on his face. "Well, it seems I leave now. Your punishment shall have to wait until a later date, I'm afraid." He gave a courteous bow and turned away, striding off at a hurried pace; he was eager to get going with his part in the battle plan, which promised to be most enjoyable....




"Admiral Dorherty." Octavia addressed the officer primly, ending her salute. The woman seemed to remember military-manners better than the mage. "I wish to inform you that Blueprints were complete; and will be so again once I redraw the one that some intruder burned to ash during his unwanted visit. It shouldn't take longer then a quarter-hour, and then we'll be able to start on all the fleet refits. Are there any particular ships you'd like me to prioritize...Sir?"

The last word came after a moments pause, clearly an afterthought on the part of the woman. Well, perhaps she did not show respect much better than Illyrian.

Tha Castdrell began, but was cut short.

"Forgive me, Captain, Admiral," The mage said softly. The Admiral raised a brow. This man seemed as if he couldnt help but get in trouble. "Miss Gnack, I have no idea what you mean, I came into your workshop uninvited, yes. But I saw you had a project going on and decided to make myself useful."

The words were cool, calm, not holding much of a sardonic edge if any, but still the Admiral didnt trust the message entirely. The Black Mages little speech continued on for a time, and then, quite suddenly he turned and left.

Castdrell lifted a questioning eyebrow as he watched the legendary figure depart, an expression he ended in a weary sigh.

I thought hed act a little more civilized He quietly, regretfully informed the air before him. Turning to address the wizard of engineering, he smiledan expression slightly taxed from the scene that had just been performed before him.

Thank you, Officer Gnack, and as for priorities, no, unfortunately all of them have to be done; we cant make use of the modifications until theyre complete, so it is whatever works out between you and the ships captains. I must say, the praise officer Blackman has hailed you with is impressive to say the least, and well capable of drawing up those blueprints in as short amount of time as you have been given thus far, but to be honest I hardly believed them. You and your work truly are impressive. If theres not anything else?




Octavia shook her head, still slightly smirking at the Admiral's comment about the mage. Perhaps it wasn't quite the flogging she'd angled for, but there was no doubt that the arrogant mage wasn't entirely within the favour of the Admiral any more.

"Nothing else for now, Sir." she responded quickly and primly, energised by the compliments, the title this time added without much thought, as it was fresh in her memory. "Can I return to my work now?"




Marcus quietly sat in his cell. He hadnt been there for a long time, but he was already miserable. The monotonous sound of footsteps on metal and lack of conversation made for a very boring captivity. The scenery was quite bland as well. Riveted metal floors and walls, a few scattered crates.

“Cmon, let met out of here.” Marcus moaned while flopping over onto his side. He had been hoping for something amazing to happen, but this wasnt exactly had in his mind. Being taken prisoner by pirates might sound cool. The reality of it was quite the opposite. Marcus had done nothing but taken prisoner and thrown in this cell for trying to protect his family from the pirates who invaded his town to restock on supplies. Even though he was miserable right now, Marcus was happy his family was okay.

In the middle of Marcus whining, two guards managed to sneak up on Marcus unnoticed. To make themselves known, one loudly stomped his foot on the ground. The sudden sound brought Marcus back and he quickly sat upright. He cautiously studied the guards. They didnt seem to be out to kill him, so he relaxed just a little.

“We were sent here to take you up to Miss Octavia Gnack. Don’t worry; were under strict orders not to harm you. Unless you try some funny business, so dont try pulling anything. Alright, were opening up the cell.”

The other guard started letting Marcus out. After unlocking and carefully opening the door, to make sure Marcus would cooperate, he practically felt like a free man. Marcus stepped out the cell singing.

“I'm not a prisoner, I'm a free man, and my blood is my own now. Don't care where the past was, I know where I'm going.”

“Dont get too excited. You dont know they want with you. Just calm down and quietly follow us.” The guard turned around and led Marcus, who was being followed by the other guard, to their destination.



Marcus was surprised by the size of the island and its security. Since this was one of the few places hed ever been, besides his own town, it was pretty amazing. It seemed they were almost at their destination. The guard leading the trio was starting to slow down. They finally stopped at an open door way that had some people in their talking.

“Ahem. Miss Gnack, Admiral Doherty.” The guards saluted. We were instructed to bring this prisoner here to you, Miss Gnack. “It seems hes somewhat of a mechanic, so its been decided that he be your assistant, if thats okay with you.” The guard who had been leading the trio turned around and poked Marcus. “Introduce yourself. And for the Moons sake, show some respect!”

Marcus took a few steps forward. “Uh, hello there. Im Marcus, Marcus Kilo. Its true; I am a mechanic, though I wouldnt consider my skills to be extraordinary or anything. Um.. maam and sir.” Marcus did a halfhearted salute and tried to smile.
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Watching the Admiral as she awaited his reply, it was then that Octavia heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Three of them, in fact, echoing gently as the metal-lined corridors carried the sound. Some new business for Castdrell, perhaps? She thought for a moment, mulling the concept over. Castedrell was here, true enough, but it was her laboratory they were standing outside of... perhaps it was one of the fitting crews? A small smile curled up the right-hand side of her face; she had plenty of work to instruct them on, and many fresh blueprints to explain to them. Doubtless they'd get everything first time through, of course, but once they did the men here all seemed fairly competent. Quite a bit like the men who'd worked under her on the Razorbeak cannon, in fact she mused...

Turning her head to look, she presented the new arrivals with the right-hand side of her face... and the small smile turned into a scowl at the sight of the approaching guards. Between them they were dragging a youngish man whom Octavia's blue eye studied quite closely; tall, muscular, his tanned skin a coppery shade that spoke of hard work under the hot sun and the warm red moon. A complete thug, of course; no doubt some slave labourer bought to this island for his muscles? Well, she didn't need any of those, thank the moons.

She gave a dimissive sniff, but listened as the guards started speaking - then scowled, crossing both her arms whilst her right eye glared furiously toward the guards.

"It's been decided he'll be my assistant?" Octavia harrumphed, throwing Castedrell a quick, cool glare before returning to fix the guards with her gaze. "Transfer him to my staff - if you must - but if you want the work to be done well, then I get to choose who on it I do and don't work with." she fumed, uncertain if Castedrell had even authorised such a thing. "You can't just expect me to take on a sandy bodger and have him know what he's doing..." she fumed, pointedly trying to ignore Marcus even whilst keeping her one eye upon him.




Castdrell couldnt help but smile. It was faint, truehopefully small enough to be missedbut it was there never-the-less. Silently, he half-heartedly chastised himself for letting his emotions get out-of-check.

“The Captains want aah, more clear example of your skills, and there are few ways better to exemplify both skill at a trade and your ability at leadership than acting the part of a teacher.” The Admiral responded respectively to Gnack, but seemed to completely ignore the young mechanic, as one might a piece of furniture or a dog that for the moment wasn’t getting out of line.” This boy is sharp, his intelligence is worthy of note, but,” He turned towards the so-called boy for a split-second, pairing momentary turn with a of his hand. “Well, he doesnt know all that he might, and his skill is still fresh enough to be molded. You should be able to turn him into whatever you please; something you couldnt with one of our other mechanics. He might not be your first choice, but well, no matter my position, the captains council still carries its own weight. I hope that such won’t prove too much an inconvenience? Very well. Chief of Engineering Gnack? Good day, and may the moons bless your step.”

The Admiral bowed slowly and formally to Octavia, turned about without so much as glancing at Marcus, and strode off with the characteristic military march common to Valuan officers.

Well, that didnt go too bad. He had managed to slip out before the woman had a chance to respond and maybejust maybeit hadnt looked that way. He had, after all, taken long enough with that bow.

A soldier gave a start at Castdrells scowl, and hurried off to busy himself elsewhere. With an effort, he pressed his face into a blank imitation of professionalism. There were so many men to balance! Did everyone have to be so difficult?

“Guard,” he waved absent-mindedly towards one of the guards that flanked him. “Find Captian Gotthold. Tell him that he can meet me, or I him, at his convenience. The Admiral looked about, as if to see Vadik walking up at that very moment. There is something I wanted to talk to him about...”

The guard crisply saluted Admiral Dorhermy, and turned about in a brisk walk just short of a run.




Vadik walked down the long ramp that went from his ship's bridge down to the dock below. At his approach, the guards situated at the foot of the ramp saluted. Vadik nodded to these guards and stepped forward in a walk. As they marched slowly across the dock, Vadik observed the various work being done. He admired his ship as it hung in the dock. They crossed over to an elevator and stepped in.

"2" spoke Vadik clearly.

The elevator operator nodded and the doors closed. Vadik felt his stomach rise as the metal machine went down into the belly of the island. He sighed to himself and removed his hat. It had been a long day. Inspection day was upon his ship and making rounds wasn't particularly easy. Vadik liked to ensure the state of his ship. Wiping his brow, he set the hat once more upon his head. The elevator slowed to a halt at the floor. Vadik marched forward again with his guards flanking him. They walked down a few of the corridors. Vadik was used to this scenery. However, as he turned one corner, he nearly bumped into a fast moving object. The guard stumbled back and muttered an apology.

"Sir, Admiral Castdrell wishes to speak with you" spoke the young guard, attempting not to look nervous.

"Take me to him at once" spoke Vadik. He might as well get this out of the way.

The guard rushed along, with the captain following closely behind. Within no time, Vadik met up with the Admiral. The guard announced his presence and Vadik made a deep bow, taking off his hat. He glanced up and spoke to the Admiral.

"How may I be of service?"




Marcus silently stood where he was while Octavia and Castdrell exchanged a few words about him. It was obvious Octavia already didnt like Marcus. Once Castdrell left, he came out of his statue state, he quickly needed to Octavia like him, or at least not hate him.

“Chief of Engineering, eh? Sounds like a nice title. I dont think I know as much about engineering as you, but before I was captured and brought here, I was the mechanic for the ship I was on,” Marcus nervously said. Now that they were alone, he felt a little uncomfortable. Octavias appearance was quite daunting to him. That is going to take a lot of getting used to, he thought.

Marcus found himself staring at Octavia; he quickly averted his gaze. “So, uh, do I have to do anything to prove my worth?” Marcuss gaze wondered back to Octavia. Once again he quickly looked away. “S-sorry for staring. Its just that, uh, you know, you look really strange.” Marcus came right out with it. There was no use denying his amazement, you might say. Hopefully this wouldnt ruin his chances of not having Octavia hate him. Though it wasnt looking so good now.




Octavia nodded sourly, reading the subtle threat hidden deep within the Admiral's words for what it was. But if Casedrell wanted this young man moulded into someone useful so badly then she was prepared to have a go; at least the work was still within her remit, and emphasised her position in charge of fleet engineering.

And, besides... what had Castedrell said to her? 'You should be able to turn him into whatever you please?' Those words made a small smile creep onto the half of Octavia's face that could still express that emotion completely, as the Engineer imagined doing literally that. Mechanical limb replacements, armour-grafting, inbuilt tools directly linked to musculature actions and electrical impulses... there were just so many ways that Marcus could be 'improved' upon...

She broke from her thoughts, her ear turning to listen for what the young man was saying, and her eye narrowing as she fixed both it and the glowing blue moonstone light upon the young man's face..

"Why, thank you so kindly for explaining the obvious to me." Octavia grumbled, attempting to stare the young man down, her eye wandering toward his torso and staring for a moment as she prodded him with her mechanical pointer finger. "I'm sure that this 'nice title' means I need even the simplest thing pointed out to me, don't I?" she prodded again, as if waiting for an answer. "Now stop insulting my 'improvements', and get inside... before I decide to risk the Admiral's displeasure and have you dropped into deep sky right here and now..."
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Marcus was half expecting Octavias finger to go through him when she pocked. Luckily, though, only the fingers look was dangerous. Marcus relaxed a little. “Maybe I was only scared because Im their prisoner and Ive never seen anyone who looks like this. Yeah, that must be it.” Marcus thought. Marcus stopped his conversation with himself when Octavia started threatening to drop him into Deep Sky.

“Oh. Yes.” He quickly stepped away from the doorway and into the room. “Sorry for what I said. Im just nervous. Being a prisoner in some fort then suddenly being put to work with no reason is really weird.”

Marcus looked around the room to take his mind off things. Getting to work again sounded kind of nice to Marcus. It was probably the only solace he had right now. Apparently the previous crew he was with wasnt too worried. Or maybe they simply could find him. Either way, he was still a prisoner and should probably make the best of it.




Octavia stepped through the laboratory doorway and into the room, half of her face scowling at the back of the young Nasrean's head. At least he's obedient she told herself, the pale blue light of her moonstone-eye casting a faint blue dot upon the back of Marcus' neck. It could have been worse...

"Good." Octavia snorted out her reply to the Nasrean's words, fixing him with a firm stare. "Then you're halfway toward understanding what the concept of 'prisoner' actually means."

"The other half being that you'll do what we say, when we say it." She pointed toward one of the workbenches, one close to the door and with a side filled with a large number of shoebox-sized drawers. "And right now I have important documents to re-draw that I CANNOT be disturbed from. So for the meantime, I want you to open the drawer labelled 'S 83'. Can you do that?" she asked, patronisingly. "Good."

She took a step away, and tilted her head slightly as she took another look at Marcus' face. "Now, the last occupants of this workshop somehow managed to mix in size 83 bolts with the size 84 drawer, which you will find alongside the empty drawer 83." Octavia pointed with her mechanical hand. "By the time I've finished with drawing up this plan, I want both drawers containing the appropriate size of screw in the correct quantity. So... mush, mush!" Octavia barked, her hands slapping together.




Marcus listened to Octavias instructions while moving over to the workbench she was pointing at. Then he opened the S 83 drawer when he was instructed to. After Octavia finished giving him her instructions, Marcus sat down and opened the S 84 drawer. He pulled the drawers all the way out and poured their contents in front of him, then put the drawers back in their spots. He began putting the larger bolts in one pile and the smaller bolts in another. Due to his prior mechanic knowledge, Marcus knew size 84 was larger than 83.

In the middle of sorting, one bolt decided to roll onto the floor. It hit with a loud clang, or at least it seemed loud since the room was so quiet. Marcus quickly picked the bolt up and quietly muttered Sorry. The rest of the sorting went smoothly. The even number of bolts got rid of any confusion that could have been caused by the bolts similar sizes. Marcus picked up a handful of bolts in each hand and dropped them into their appropriate box. Dropping in them in wasnt such a smart idea, though. They clanked against each other much louder than Marcus had expected. He looked over at Octavia to see if she noticed. He hoped she was so occupied by her work that she didnt notice.




Her pencil etching neat lines onto the parchment with precise, ruler-aided strokes, Octavia set about the business of redrawing the highly valued blueprint modifications that the foolish mage had seen fit to destroy. Occasionally she would pause and ponder a moment before adding a further line to the design, debating if or not she should consider further revisions to the plans in this newest incarnation. There were still more changes that could be made to the plans if the mood decided to take her, alterations that might improve upon even the upgraded designs and increase still further the output of the moonstone engines. It would work, she was sure of that, and the improvements would be sturdy and long-lasting, but...

Octavia sighed. But it would take far too much time to arrange, and she knew that Castedrell's schedule was tight enough already for such vast delays. The modifications currently underway would only take days to complete; these modifications she currently debated with herself internally would require whole months to be spent upgrading. Whole months in which they would be out of service, whole months during which they would not be available for Castedrell's plans. And he would have them; Octavia was sure of that much. To ground his whole fleet would simply not be allowed...

Sighing to herself a moment, she discarded the idea and continued with her drawings. A line here, a new line there parallel to the old, fresh labelling to tell of an adjusted angle on one particular rotating part...

A bolt hit the floor with a loud clang, but focused upon the specifics of her design, Octavia failed to even notice the sound of the impact of metal bolt upon the metallic floor. Only when finished did Octavia at last turn her eyes away from the plans and she did so as she rolled them into a coil, placing the paper down upon her workbench as she walked across to stand near where Marcus had been working. Reaching to the desk drawers, her hands pulled two open at once and she glanced downward, surveying the contents with both the normal eye and the pale moonstone-glow of her replacement.

"All seems to be in order." Octavia stated at last, giving the young man a blunt nod. "Perhaps you're not quite as incompetent as I had feared, then, even if you might still draw pretty close."




"Admiral? Captain Gotthold."
The guard made his announcement, accompanied by the named officer removing hat and making a formal bow. The captain's gaze flickered up after this example of formalities and holding with old traditions-a fact that made the Admiral adopt a slight smile of respect, despite attempts at formal composure. Maybe he had chosen correctly when he had selected this Captain...
"How may I be of Service?" Captain Gotthold asked.
Castédrell lifted his right hand-covered in a falconer's glove-and snapped impatiently at the guards surrounding. The armored men quickly hurried off to patrol the immediate area, backs purposely turned away from the Admiral and Captain. The two were above ground-where the most activity was to be seen anywhere on the island-but it was a good two dozen paces between them and the nearest building, those buildings being the focal of soldiers' and officers' attentions. Difficult for anyone to listen to their conversation, and if that wasn't enough, the guards who now formed a perimeter ought be enough. Although, the what if the guards were to overhear? The Admiral had selected them himself, but even so…
"Captain," The Admiral began in a voice a shade quieter than he normally used, "if you would come closer, I have things to say that I'd rather not others hear, and things to which I would prefer not to draw attention to by way of a meeting behind closed doors."
He waited until the Captain was nearer to continue, quieting his tone either further. It was not a whisper, not quite, but ten paces off would find its definition lost to the general noise of the island.
"Thank you for coming with such speed, I had hoped you might, though I didn't request it as to-once more-draw the least attention to this conversation as is humanly possible. Requests of haste tend to turn heads. I... you understand, Captain, that this is to stay entirely between us, and no one else? Even your vice captain is not to hear so much as murmurs about what I am about to reveal to you. This matter is a grave one, one on which the very existence of the fleet is balanced, on which every man's live to which you serve beside, above, or under rests upon."
Castédrell's eyes flashed with a dark concentration, washing over the Captain with calculation, consideration, and even a degree of condemnation. Anger-or the closest thing the Admiral would permit to be seen on his face-rolled across it visibly in waves, and his jaw began to subtly work upon itself.
"Captain," He began once more. His tone, his manner bore a degree of gravity generally only assigned to such topics as death and treason. "If you do not think you can treat this matter with the level of secrecy and absolute somberness that I ask-a matter which you must hide from everyone you know, no matter how close they are, no matter the burden it might be, then tell me now. Tell me, Captain, if you can only take upon yourself the incredible responsibility of being a captain of the Black Fleet and nothing more. Tell me now, and know that I will not fault you for saying that you aren't ready for what I'm about to tell you, and I will thank your candor. Tell me now, for in a minuet's time, it will be too late."
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Vadik rose out of his bow as Castedrell motioned the guards away. He held the hat loosely under his arm and moved forward to the Admiral. He wanted to talk in private apparently. He shifted closer to the captain. He was now interested with what the Admiral had to say. Usually, he was spoken to in a semi private setting. He wasn't sure what to make of it. How important could this be?

"Of course, I understand" he spoke softly. Vadik looked around. It was obvious the guards were straining to listening. He noted a soft tone in the admiral's speech. Vadik reminded himself to be cautious of what he said. He noticed the visible changes of the admiral as he spoke. Obviously, he either wasn't pleased or quite nervous about what he was about to say. Vadik, carefully manuevered himself close to Castedrell and spoke.

"Yes, Admiral. I will keep this a secret to myself. I would not wish to jeopardize the Black Fleet."




Tension faded from Castédrell's form, face and stance alike adopting a relieved air. Those words were the ones he wanted-no needed to hear, like silver to the poor, water to the thirsty.
"I knew you had the honesty, integrity, and capability for this task, and now I know that you have the carry-through."
With an admiring nod of his head, his mouth quirked up, moving circle beard along with. The quirk of the mouth was proof that any calmness could not last long; it was not an expression of mirth, pure, but tainted with a sardonic edge.
"If only every man in the fleet was like you, we'd have nothing to fear, now would we? I'd have no reason to be speaking with you. No reason at all."
The Admiral glanced casually around, though a careful eye would have caught a desperate searching-desperation to come up with nothing, rather than something.
No, the coast is clear... still clear...
"The news I have to give is of the gravest news an Admiral can report on-not even second to total defeat. Treachery." His gaze gained a downward cast, "The worst thing a fleet can suffer through for it murders integrity, trust, and the fleet itself in a single blow, a blow dealt from rotting death, inside to out. That-the idea of a traitor among us-is the worst news that can be given."
His gaze locked onto Captain Gotthold.
"You are the one man better suited for this mission that I can select from the fleet. I need you to use your intelligence, your wit, your understanding of the fleet's infrastructure to attack this task. There is-I don't say might be, but is-a traitor here, inside the fleet. I know this from my reports, I just don't know who. I don't even begin to know who. My reports are a mess of vague contradictions and intercrossing loops in logic."
Castédrell turned his face away, as if about to curse. He did not curse however, if even his face was close enough in appearance to verbal vulgarities in sound. His reports were nothing! None of them made sense, none of them seemed to go anywhere-agree with each other, narrow down where it was that this worm-rot might be.
"I do not give them to you, because they would only serve to cloud your mind and confuse your task. This man is a master of deception, of hidden trickery, of laying waste to every track he might make. He is out there, however. You must never, never let yourself question this."
From his waistcoat, the Admiral produced a thick envelope with two red wax seals; one that marked the envelope from the Admiral of the Black Fleet, the other baring the family crest of Castédrell Dorhemy.
"Inside you will find several things. The first among them, certifications for lump sums of ten thousand gold. The first three can be used at our treasury, with no questions asked, no records kept. The next three can be used at any Valuan bank, backed by the Valaun national treasury, with, once again, no questions asked, if, unfortunately, records kept. Use them only if you absolutely must, for the Fleet does not have funds to spare.
"The seventh item is a small slip of paper, containing short, clear instructions:
Anyone who presents this slip should be treated with the same respect and authority as is given to me. Talk of this slip, or the events surrounding it to anyone, will be considered treason.
Admiral Castédrell Dorhemy,
Lord of the Dorhemy Estate,
Commander of the Black Fleet

Keep it under close guard, and do not use it without very good reason. The likes of it could generate talk, and if presented to the traitor himself, all could be lost.
"The eighth, and last item, is a spell stone, carved with Pyri. If anyone opens the envelope that is not you or I, it will burst in flames. Be forewarned. Keep it hidden despite such guarding."
Castedrell smiled, taking a step back.
"You know what you are charged with doing. Speak to no one except me on this, and then speak only if you have important news. If you have any questions, make them now, and make them quick, as I have already spent too much time here-and," He paused, placing more earnestness in his voice than even before, "your fleet, Captain Gotthold, thanks your for your service."




"Thank you. I always strive to be just a little less incompetent than people think I am. Giving it your all is such a pain. If you always do your best, how can you do any better?" Marcus waved his hand dismissing the idea. "Anyway, while I was organizing the bolts I couldn't help but notice you were drawing plans for something. Would you mind if I take a look? If I'm going to be your assistant you should probably give me an idea of what I'll be dealing. I can't be giving my all trying to figure out how to do something."




"Hmm."

Octavia pursed her lips as she stared toward her new assistant, regarding the young man intently. For someone who was currently counted as a prisoner of the black fleet, this Marcus certainly seemed quite oblivious about what that term actually meant. Trusting him to sort some relatively minor components was one thing, but this?
She snorted, her differing eyes converging upon the young man's face with another contemptuous stare.

"Being my assistant is another thing entirely to working on these plans." Octavia stated with acidic tone, her real and mechanical hands folding across each other and over her chest. "There are some engineers that can be trusted; and then there's you. So yes; I most certainly WOULD mind you taking a look at these plans. Go fetch me a beaker of water if you actually want to be useful here."




Marcus backed off from Octavia. He had gotten a bit too comfortable too quickly. It was understandable, though; him and Octavia were fast becoming friends.

"Sorry about that. I just thought we were best friends now. They saw the best way to get to know someone is to play with someone's bolts. To show how sorry I am, I will go fetch you some water." Marcus bowed slightly then walked over to a nearby table with a beaker.

Marcus looked around the room hoping to find some water. Luckily he didn't have to venture into the unknown of the base. A sink was hidden by shelves of equipment and such. Marcus casually strolled over to fill up the beaker. He was in no hurry since these people didn't seem to be letting him free anytime soon.

"Hm, guess this is good enough." Marcus said examining the water level in the beaker.

Not wanting to break the pattern of being so lax, Marcus took his time getting back to Octavia. He held the beaker out and bowed as if presenting some valuable gift.

"Your beaker of water, madam." Marcus stood up straight now. "So can give me somewhat of an idea of what you'll have me doing? Right now it seems you're bent on giving me kids' jobs.
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Ranger
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Vadik nodded as the Admiral complemented the Captain. He felt a little anxious at what was to come. Although it was not that obvious, the Admiral had a tense air around him that was only noticeable at the close proximity the two men had. Vadik flicked a little sweat off of his brow. He felt hot in his clothes. However, he did not let the heat affect his mood or stance and tried not to appear agitated.

The next words spoken by Castedrell shook Vadik.
"The news I have to give is of the gravest news an Admiral can report on-not even second to total defeat. Treachery." His gaze gained a downward cast, "The worst thing a fleet can suffer through for it murders integrity, trust, and the fleet itself in a single blow, a blow dealt from rotting death, inside to out. That-the idea of a traitor among us-is the worst news that can be given."
Vadik felt a pang hit his stomach. A traitor? In the Black Fleet? He never could have fathomed such a thing. Vadik looked around nervously. This shook the peace of mind he received inside of the stronghold. He continued to listen intently to the Admiral as he delivered the horrid news. After explaining the confusing situation to Vadik, he took hold of the envelope that had been produced from the Admiral's clothes.Vadik listened with his eyes a little larger than usual. The things he had now were of great importance. He quickly put it away after the Admiral finished what he had to say. The Admiral asked if Vadik had any questions.
"No sir, I don't believe I have anything to ask. My mind is so shocked from the information I would need time to think."
He bowed to the Admiral and stepped away at a quick pace. The two guards that came with him fell to his side. Vadik motioned to the elevator and they moved silently. Within a couple of minutes, he was back and up to the dock. The guards stopped at the ramp to his ship and Vadik quickly made his way up to The Insurrection. The men on deck saluted him as he stepped inside the ship and made the way to his cabin. He bolted the door behind him and made his way over to his personal chest, where he placed the envelope. He took off his standard clothing and threw on a pair of looser pants and a simple white collared shirt. He jumped back onto his bed and closed his eyes. He thought deeply about what to do next. How in the world do you start the search for a traitor...?




Octavia narrowed her eye as the young man walked off, the part-mechanical wondering what she'd done to displease Castedrell that he'd saddled her with this oafish simpleton. He considered them 'best friends'? Either the man was simple, or else he was snarking her deliberately to test her reactions... still, there were ways of dealing with both the possibilities. Though judging from the sloth with which the man managed to take in filling a beaker, the 'simple' hypothesis was starting to sound more and more like an accurate assumption on her part. Nonetheless, she took the beaker of water and carefully studied it a moment before placing it down upon the bench.

And then she bristled as Marcus asked again. Her eye narrowed further, whilst the speck of blue light from it's artificial cmpanion rested upon the young man's broad, muscular chest.

"Right now, you'd be whoely accurate in that assumption of yours." Octavia glowered. "You'll be given menial tasks a child could do until you prove you can even manage those. If you succeed, then perhaps I might let you on something more interesting. If you fail; I'm sure that the fleet will have no further use for you and I can release you."

She paused a moment for effect, then the real half of her face curled into a quite unpleasent smile.

"Release you, that is, into the depths of the skies."




Marcus was slightly weirded out by Octavia's artificial eye. He didn't try to change his facial expression while thinking of what it might be doing. Did it just view him like a normal eye? Somehow find out everything about him? That was impossible, but Marcus still thought it. Maybe it saw through objects. That would be awesome. I'd switch eyes in a heartbeat for that, Marcus thought.

He cringed a little at Octavia's smile. It didn't really scare him or anything, it was just kind of creepy. Marcus couldn't exactly make fun of it either. He didn't need to make Octavia that mad so early in their relationship. Maybe he could try a different approach to this situation. Marcus quickly dismissed that idea. He already having fun with what he was doing now. If it's not broke, don't fix it.

"Release you, that is, into the depths of the skies." Marcus echoed with a distant look, not looking at anything in particular. "You know, I've always wondered what was down there. Maybe it wouldn't be too bad to screw up here and there. At least if it killed me, I'd know what was down there."

Marcus chuckled a little. He didn't have a reason for laughing. He just kind of felt like it. They say laughter is the best medicine. (I don't know if that's true, but it sounds good.) "Well, I guess if this is what I have to do, I'll deal with it. I'll stop badgering you now. So, mother, what would you like me to do next?"




Octavia bristled as Marcus echoed her reply back with a dreamy expression upon his face, the modest threat completely ignored and made light of by his absurd statement. Did he not understand that dropping him over the island edge would mean death, no matter where his corpse wound up? Did he not realise that to go to deep sky without protection from the pressure would result in his death in any case?

"You would no more know what was down there if you survived a mere two seconds then you would if you were gagged and blinfloded." Octavia fumed, the side of her face still capable of movement glaring furiously toward the unfotunate man. "Even the few who did make it down to the depths witht he right equipment could barely see anything; alone and unsupported you would die quickly, and your body would be nothing but a meal for the creatures of the abyss."

"And for what I would like you to do?" She continued, still glowering at the unfortunate man." Go report to to the man who sent you here on exactly how well you're doing in not winding me up, I'm sure he'd be delighted by your contribution to slowing up his essential projects. Perhaps whilst there you can demonstrate your competance by trying to peek through his confidential battle plans?" Octavia snarked, her mechanical hand twitching gently.

"Now go, leave me alone." she added, turning away from Marcus and back to her blueprint. "I'm a busy woman, and don't have the time to babysit an imbacile on top of everything else that's being asked of me right now.




Carefully, meticulously Castédrell sat each of the ships on the table before him. Brass, bronze, and sterling silver models of yafutoman vessels, isles, and generic markers were placed with hair-precision on the glass sheets. Obsidian battleships were already in place, each of far better quality than their eastern counterparts.

Glass sheet hung over glass sheet, hung over glass sheet, hung over map. It was an admiral's battlemap; a three dimensional imitation of the skies. The four levels represented four heights of travel, which made the valuan-born sniff. It was inaccurate; the fleet was going to have an improved model with an extra two levels, accommodating to the yafutoman range with which their engines had been improved, but... well, that was before.

Before.

Castédrell used the pusher to prod a bronze square, representing a section of the Gaurdian Wall, so that it'd be better aligned. That, would give the enemy an edge; detection of the Black Fleet when the fleet was still a long ways off from the city. There was no real way to circumvent that, so he would simply have to use it to the fleet's advantage.
Illryian. The Black Mage's name flashed into his mind. A loose cannon, that. He had not been sure about employing that man in the coming battle; but Blackman had insisted on it. How could one know what that mage was going to do? Castédrell had never had the chance of meeting the man in person-or even seeing him from afar-but from reports the Admiral knew what kind of man he was.

Vain, arrogant, and incredibly able. The kind of man who would, if put up to the challenge-a challenge that he harked, and called truth-do everything in his power to do it well. Ignoring challenges. Ignoring risks. Ignoring everything but his show to prove himself deserving of legends.

The admiral walked across the red-carpeted strategy room, turning back on the collection of little ships. Enough of that, the fleet best cast off soon, and to deep sky with any strategy that couldn't hold water due to unpredictability of certain men. Tactics never fled in such, and war was built on the foundation of unknowns. If Castédrell could control the situation, he need not control the man; Illryian could be a boon to the Black Fleet in his own way. The Black Mage could-

Castédrell fell to the floor, clasping at his heart. A splintering sensation shot down the left side of his body, and his whole being went stiff, and refused to move. His body flushed with heat, and his skin ached with a distant cold. He tried to stand, speak, but he neither moved, nor made a sound. It felt like defeat.

In a moment, however, the sensation passed. The man stood, not alarmed, not frightened, only grimly, and callously distraught. Castédrell could die, but what of the fleet? What of his wife? He stood, scowling down at the red-worked-with-gold flooring. What of them? They would go on without him, yes, but how well? And for how long? He was a man, and... men died, the Admiral knew. But key men couldn't die while they were still vital. Could he give up his power? But to whom? Ah, but whatever it was, not yet... not yet...

"Guard!" He called, and on the instant, not one, but two appeared. "Deliver a message to all high, and mid-ranking officers in the fleet. We set sail within two hours; final preparations are to be made immediately, and I advice that everyone leaving is onboard, and ready to depart within one-and-a-half."

"Yes, sir!"

"Dismissed."

Both Guards sped off, tailed by the Admiral in a slow fashion. And in that moment, the Admiral laughed. What a time he lived in! What a time! He had not even been Admiral for a day, and yet here he was thinking about his successor. In the Crystal Wars Valua had set a tempo that would pulse as Arcadia's heart until the world killed itself from exhaustion. That, or until order and stability was established. A world-wide order.

As he left the Retalliantion's strategy room, two more guards had assumed a position behind him. He pretended to not take note, but how could one not? Two men following you wherever you went; not for show, but for a reason. An Emperor, a King, an Admiral weren't safe without a guard, and possibly two weren't near enough.

'It hasn't been a day!' his mind told him.

'It's been a lot longer than that.' he told it back.
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Tatlin
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I Have the power and the Speed!
Vadik's eyes quickly opened. He groaned a little bit and rolled over on his bed. He felt groggy, as he usually did when he took unexpected naps. He checked the clock mounted on the wall across the room. It had been three hours since he arrived back in the room.

"Hmm...what happened..." he muttered out loud. He paused for a second, gathering himself.

And then it struck him. Castedrell...traitor in the Black Fleet. His mind started working quickly, gathering his thoughts from before. He had been tasked to find the traitor in the Black Fleet. He shuddered lightly at the thought, and glanced around the room, feeling slightly paranoid. Vadik jumped to his feet and stepped over to the window closest to his bed. He peered out the window and surveyed the hanger, almost as if he expected to see the traitor out there, messin g with The Insurrection's guns, or attempting to sabotage the engines.

Vadik meandered over to the his desk, and peered at himself in the mirror. His black hair was ruffled from the sleep, and the white shirt he was wearing had wrinkles all over it. He grabbed a comb and fixed up his hair, then walked over to his wardrobe and threw on his standard attire. Grabbing his hat from the top of the wardrobe, Vadik stepped out of his room and headed towards the bridge.

Vadik stepped with confidence into the bridge. All of the officers stopped and saluted as they saw him. He walked up to his chair at the back of the room and took a seat, hanging the hat he held in his hands on the back of the chair. One of the men stepped up to him and handed him a sealed envelope. Vadik flipped it over, and eyed the seal. Noticing the Castedrell seal, he quickly slid his finger across and broke the seal.

His eyes skimmed the orders. The fleet was to head out to Yafutoma for their operation. Vadik smiled. Things were coming together for the fleet. He peered over the officers, busy at work, keeping the ship in shape. He motioned to his vice-captain.

"We're moving out. Set a course for the Ixa'taka sky reef. We'll head there and then I'll proceed with orders from there."

"Aye aye captain!" the vice-captain replied. He walked off and started handing out orders. The ship began to move, and soon they were out in the open sky.

Vadik was out again
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Gordreg
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There was a chiming sound, and it was annoyingly distracting as it warbled on in the background of the laboratory. The customary activite sounds of the working environment - the whir of motors, rustling of paper, squeaking of joints and the crackle-hiss of electricals - had been violated by a noise like the sound of bees drunk on helium. Glancing up from her latest blueprint alteration with a frown stretched across the side of her face that could still frame such annoyance, Octavia looked quickly about the room to try and see what was making such a sound.

It wasn't the fool, that much was immediately obvious. The idiot had returned to sorting out another one of the muddled-up parts drawers despite her orders to get himself out of her sight, but at least he wasn't the one making that rediculous sound. No, that honour was reserved for a small copper bell right above the main doorway, ringing at a frantic rate...

Ah, so somebody wanted to get in? No... not wanted. The bell wouldn't be ringing if this was just a request... which meant that this was an order. Either the Admiral himself, or perhaps someone with the Authority to speak from him? Either way, this turned the 'annoying sound' into something she'd need to deal with herself. Folding up the blueprint, Octavia walked over to the door and pulled it open. Behind the door stood a guard in the uniform of Castédrell's own.

"Ma'am!" The man yelped, his voice surprisingly high Octavia thought.
"Come to deliver a message from the Admiral, Miss. Gnack!" he yelped, obviously a little out of breath. "The Admiral says we set sail within two hours; and that final preparations are to be made immediately. Said you'll need to be ready to depart within one-and-a-half hours, Ma'am!"

Octavia nodded, though the frown on her face fell a little further. Two hours wasn't really a lot of time to ready herself, especially with everything she'd need to sort out. She had so many preparations to make, and not all of her projects had yet been finished or routed to the 'lifter'. But she had to make it in time; it was vital that she did so and not be left behind. A wonder awaited her in Yafutoma, and this was not an opportunity to pass over.

"I'll be there." She replied curtly, closing the door as the guard nodded his confirmation and scampered off to the next person on his list, whoever that was. Turning back to her workplace, Octavia sought out and quickly found her travel-case, already filled with most of the documentation she'd need and a few mechanical parts she didn't trust to the stores on the 'lifter'. Now there was only the one more thing that she needed to do...

She turned on Marcus, sly grin creeping across the side of the face that could. "Mr. Kilo?" She called out. "I have a job for you. I'm going to be going away for a while, and I need you to stay here and make certain that nobody touches ANYTHING until I get back..."
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