Chương 3: Chapter Three: Battlestations

"Captain on deck!" a voice rang out as Serena stepped through the threshold. Everyone in the bridge scrambled to stand at attention. Serena took her position at the top of the bridge, overlooking her loyal officers. The bridge was a cone-shaped room poking out the bottom of the Vengeance's upper superstructure. It was ringed with thick reinforced windows for observation, through which Serena could see the three twin-barrel turrets along the deck of the ship. These turrets formed the Vengeance's main battery.

Each one could fire a set of four-inch flak, explosive, or penetrator shells every three seconds. That firepower was supplemented with another two sets of one-inch repeater anti-air guns installed lower down on the sides of the ship. One portside and one starboard. The Vengeance was classed as a light cruiser, but under Serena's command, making use of the ship's unique aspects, she was able to make it punch well above its weight. To her left and right were the port and starboard observation posts.

These small rooms jutted out over the ship's structure and allowed direct observation of the sides of the ship. There were two more underhull observation pods at the front and rear whose occupants would pass information through speaking pipes to the officer on duty. The bridge had three elevations. At the highest was her station, the helmsman's wheel and the first officer's position who, along with her quartermaster, were currently preoccupied with a certain bundle of blond hair and irritating bouncy energy.

The middle elevation was a larger space, ringed with desks manned by her most important staff. Here, the navigator, communications officer, sensors officer, weapons officer, and chief engineer all worked as a well-oiled machine. Centered on this elevation was a large table on which a small model of the Vengeance lay propped up next to maps of their target – Port Highwind.

Leaning over this table, moving pieces from here to there, were her air and ground tacticians, doing what they did best: planning and arguing with each other. During combat, these tacticians would, as best they could, keep this representation of the air space updated with the locations of enemy ships, and the maps updated with the movements of her stormtroopers. At the lowest level were the lesser officers and subordinates of her key staff.

They manned a semicircle of a dozen desks from which they could communicate with areas around the ship, prioritizing and passing information to their superior officers, who would either handle it themselves or pass it onto her or her first officer.

"At ease," she intoned. The ship's crew resumed their work, while Serena took a moment for herself. She wanted some time with her thoughts before the upcoming engagement between the Vengeance and Port Highwind's defenses. Amelia had been left in the capable hands of Tomes and Dagon, who seemed reluctant to let his brother be alone with her. Serena had given Tomes a rundown of where she and the human Speaker currently stood with regards to potential employment.

Incorporating her into the crew formally was out of the question, Tomes had reminded her as much, stating it could even be considered an act of treason. Hiring her as a mercenary was equally dubious, and despite her station giving her far more freedom than other captains, Serena still had her superiors to obey and regulations to follow. The best solution Tomes had come up with would be to contract Amelia as part of her personal retinue, as an adviser and, well, as a maid.

Serena did have the right and technically it did not conflict with her military obligations, but it was pushing the boundaries right to the edge. Regardless, she would still risk it despite the future problems that would inevitably arise. Demonkind had no gods of healing to learn from, so, unlike the human nations, they were more or less devoid of magical means of healing. A warrior's aura and mage's wards could accelerate the natural healing process, but they couldn't regrow limbs like human magic could.

To find, then, a human that was not only a Speaker of a healing branch, but also who seemingly lacked the knowledge of the recent racial conflict between their two species was something she previously thought impossible. To then stretch those odds even further and discover that this human appeared to have a positive opinion of demonkind was almost beyond belief. The force multiplier Amelia would bring could not be overstated.

The average non-recoverable casualty rate of her stormtroopers on a given mission was twenty percent. Five percent would die during the assault, while the remaining fifteen percent were a mix of missing in action, those who would die on the operating table, or those who recovered but were unable to return to combat. Even if the human could bring that twenty percent to only ten percent then the combat effectiveness of her command would skyrocket.

The savings on recruitment, training, and logistics would not only help their purse strings but allow them to focus more on training specialized soldiers and build stronger cohesion in the ranks. That was, if she could employ Amelia. Serena had to be thorough and there were many things left unchecked. She hadn't had nearly enough time to cover all the topics of discussion she'd wanted. Where was the human born? Who was her family? How could she speak Imperial but not write it? What other spells could she cast? And…

How did she get so strong? With any luck, the answer to these questions would be getting teased out of her by Tomes and Dagon at this very moment. This time, with honey and sugar, as opposed to chains and dark cells.

"Captain?" a gruff voice piped up, breaking Serena from her thoughts. It was Anathor, this time speaking through a mounted stuffed windlizard. Anathor didn't need a mounted head to speak from, he could do it from almost any part of the ship's structure, he simply preferred to talk through them as, apparently, it felt more natural.

"We're at the pre-appointed time," he said.

"Navigation! Status!" Serena commanded, pushing Amelia out of her mind. It was time to focus.

"Thirty-two knots! Bearing twenty degrees from north! Two thousand three hundred meters!" the navigation officer yelled out, reading the values of the pitot-static instrument in front of him.

"Five klicks 'till we're within aetherscope range, Captain! Ten klicks 'til we're horizon-visible!" They were sailing low, just over two klicks above the lumina boundary. Port Highwind sat on an island almost as low, allowing them to get far closer than normal before they were within visible range of the port's watchtowers.

"Sensors! Report!"

"No blips! Low-level lumina noise! Aetherfield clear!" the sensors officer shouted. Even with being over two klicks away, the lumina caused interference with the aetherscopes that ringed the Vengeance. It was these devices that detected the aetheric combustion of a ship's lift engine and served as an early warning system where and when their observers' eyes failed. The interference was why ships, military and civilian alike, avoided sailing low. Instead, most battles and travel occurred in mid- and high-sky.

Get too close to the lumina boundary, and the noise would render your ship's instruments useless. Sail into the lumina, and the aetheric combustion would catastrophically chain-react and destroy the ship. That is, if the ship wasn't the Vengeance.

"Communications! What do our eyes see?"

"Sky clear! Visibility good, Captain!"

"Alright… let's go swimming!" Serena cleared her throat before giving the command.

"Pitch down! Ten degrees!"

"Pitch down! Ten degrees!" the helmsman responded, adjusting one of the many levers of his station.

"Pitch down! Ten degrees!" the chief engineer shouted into a speaking tube, reporting her command to the engine room. A few moments passed, and Serena felt the Vengeance respond, its bow dipping slightly below the horizon. The shimmering expanse of the lumina and its gentle glow were now visible as an orange blanket that formed the foundation of their world. Thankfully, it was calm today. Even commanding the Vengeance, Serena knew to avoid a lumina storm.

She did the rough maths in her head but decided to have the navigation officer report it for the benefit of the room.

"Navigation! Time till impact?"

"Thirteen minutes!" There was little left to do. Communications would report anything that needed reporting and the sensors department would soon be mostly blind. She double-checked with the weapons officer and got the green light on all barrels. The ground tactician also reported all green for the stormtroopers, who were prepping the transport ships which were attached to the sides of the Vengeance along with several support craft which, according to the air tactician, were also green.

She considered asking Anathor what Amelia was doing but decided against it. It was frustrating how that smug face kept appearing in her mind. Maybe if she found an excuse to stab her a little, it would stop happening. Perhaps the human would like a friendly spar between Speakers?

"Anathor, how's the ship doing?" she asked the stuffed head.

"Hmm…" The windlizard paused for a moment.

"It's… excited. Looking forward to the lumina." Where other ships faced certain destruction, the Vengeance liked the lumina. The ship had a supernatural ability to maintain aetheric combustion while sailing within the boundary, an ability that she, before and again now, would make great tactical use of. Serena had once asked Anathor if the ship could go even further, to break through the boundary itself, to reach the fabled under-sky, but he had only responded with, "She's not ready yet, Captain…"

"Thirty seconds till impact!" Navigation called out.

"Aetherscopes blind!" the sensors officer yelled.

"Pitch up! Five degrees!"

"Pitch up! Five degrees!" the helmsman and chief engineer responded in unison.

"Rig for silent running!"

"Rig for silent running!" the chief engineer passed the order to the engine room, and soon she felt the ship slow, as air resistance brought it down to a slower twenty knots, just as the under-hull of the ship entered the lumina.

"Rigged for silent running!" reported the chief engineer.

"Under-hull, one point five!" the sensor officer shouted. There were density gauges attached to the top and bottom of the ship. They were normally used to check the density of clouds they sailed through, but they could also be used to estimate the density of the lumina.

"Under-hull, one point eight!"

"Maintain course!" Serena commanded. The lumina was calm today, not very dense in its upper layers. They would have to go deep to ensure they were adequately camouflaged. The deck of the ship was swallowed by the ethereal fog, and then the turrets, and finally the windows themselves.

"Visibility one hundred meters! Under-hull, two point two! Mast, one point five!" Serena felt a moment of pride at how well her staff worked now. When they did this originally, after much convincing from Anathor who claimed the ship needed it, the tension had crippled their cohesion. Now, they were almost relaxed. Almost.

"Visibility eighty meters! Under-hull, three point six! Mast, two point eight!" If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. Once again, a certain pair of blue eyes entered her thoughts. Damn it all.

"Anathor," she whispered, "how goes it with Tomes and Dagon?"

"Hmm… they are playing poker, Captain." They were doing what!? she thought.

"They're doing what!?" she hissed, keeping her voice as low as possible.

"She's winning. Dagon thinks she's cheating and won't let her deal anymore." Serena resisted the urge to grasp her horns in frustration.

"Damn it Anathor, unless it's something serious I don't need to know everything she's doing."

"Hmm… you asked."

"Shut up."

"Visibility thirty meters! Under-hull, five point five! Mast, five point zero! Captain!"

"Level out!" she commanded. Her helmsman and engineer quickly repeated the command. Moments later, she felt the ship's bow align.

"Navigation! Status!"

"Eighteen knots! Bearing twenty degrees from north! Minus one hundred twenty meters! Sailing level!"

"Captain!" the communications officer cried out.

"We've got cavitation!"

"Slow us down! Fifteen knots!" The orders were quickly relayed down the chain of command, and the ship soon slowed. Cavitation could occur when sailing through thick clouds. The propeller of the ship created a region of low pressure behind it that could form bubbles that would collapse, creating noise and stressing the propeller and hull. Communications and the chief engineer gave her the all-clear. She resisted a sigh of relief.

More than a few ships had fallen from the sky due to damage sustained through cloud-borne cavitation, and the lumina was far thicker.

"Maintain course, two hours," she instructed the helmsman, who nodded.

"Aye, Captain!"

"Air tactician," she said, causing the demon in question to turn away from the maps and look at her. She knew his name of course, she knew all their names, but you didn't use names on the bridge. You used titles.

"In your command," she said to him, turning to leave. With Dagon, her first officer, occupied, the third-in-command was her air tactician, who would keep an eye on everything while she was gone.

"Yes, Captain! Captain leaving deck!" Serena left the bridge, deciding to head to her quarters to find something to busy her mind with. There was always bookkeeping to do, reports to write or double-check. Barring any emergencies, she would return on deck in an hour and a half, giving time for last-minute checks and clarification of strategies and- How had she gotten here? The door of the quartermaster's quarters stood before her and, beyond it, the sounds of conversation and… was that laughter reaching her ears?

Serena reached out to open the door, stopping herself short. What was she doing? She didn't need to babysit. Tomes and Dagon were more than capable of their tasks. It would be patronizing to constantly check in on them. She trusted them to report to her as and when needed. Micromanaging was not how she commanded. She looked at the doorknob for a few more seconds before turning away, walking with determination until she was back in her quarters.

Thankfully Anathor, who no doubt saw what happened, didn't say anything. Sitting in her familiar chair, she felt a sense of normalcy and took a moment to appreciate the quiet. The lumina cast a gentle glow through her windows, similar to the morning sun. It might have been relaxing if they weren't a few hundred meters from certain destruction. Serena fished around and found some reports that needed doing and set about completing them. For a few minutes nothing but the scratch of a fountain pen filled the quarters.

Just as she was getting lost in her work, a familiar voice interrupted the flow.

"Captain, quartermaster on his way," the moose's head informed her.

"And Dagon?"

"With the girl, they're playing drunk demon's hand."

"Tsk!" Serena couldn't stop her annoyance from coming out.

"They're not drinking, are they?"

"No, Captain. Quartermaster outside." A second later, a few knocks sounded.

"Come in," Serena called. The door opened and Tomes stepped in, closing it behind himself, paper in hand, spectacles on nose.

"Hello, Captain. Anathor said you were here. All good on the bridge?"

"Had some cavitation, had to bring her down to fifteen knots."

"Hmm." Tomes scratched his stubble.

"I remember speaking to some Ainese merchants a while back. They said some Aindo builders had come up with some new propeller designs. They curved the blades in a way that was supposed to prevent or minimise cavitation. Could be a worthwhile upgrade, considering what we do," he finished, gesturing to the lumina outside.

"Send some feelers out, next time we make land."

"Aye, Captain." An awkward silence lingered long enough that Serena felt a headache coming on.

"Alright, Tomes. What do we have?" Her quartermaster shook the paper in his hand with a grin.

"I got a few answers, but I hope you're ready for all the other questions and impossible things that arise from them."

"Of course, why would I expect anything less? Why do human women have to be so damn complicated?"

"Ha! That's all women, Captain! Ah, sorry, Captain…" Tomes dipped his head, touching his horns as an apology.

"Got carried away there… with how friendly that human is, you sort of find you let down your guard."

"What's that?" she asked, ignoring him and nodding to the paper in the quartermaster's hand.

"Remember Anathor said she couldn't read High Imperial? Well, look at this." Tomes placed the paper down in front of her.

"Dagon had a bright idea, pretended we didn't have chips to play poker with. Gave her a pen and paper, got her to keep track of it all, and she did. That's what she wrote." Serena peered down at the paper, which contained neat and organized letters of a foreign script.

"First," Tomes said, "given the quality of the writing, that human has to either be highborn or born into wealth. She's definitely educated. The words she uses, and her lack of slang... She ain't some alley-rat."

"These letters… and numbers… I feel like I've seen them before." Saying that, she became certain. She had definitely seen this before. She raised an eyebrow at Tomes, who walked to one of her many bookcases and brought back a small black book, embossed with a golden upside-down cross.

"The Bible?" she asked, eyeing the familiar book.

"That's in High Imperial, though." Tomes placed the holy book on the desk and opened it. Its many thin pages fluttered until the front of the book was reached.

"Here," he said, pointing to the page.

"Read this."

"In the year of divinity, eight hundred and twenty-six, we, the Imperial Printing Press, are honored to produce this printing of the Holy Demon Bible, translated in whole by the Imperial Cathedral, with assistance from the Centralis University, from its original Anglish …!" Serena felt her eyes go wide. Anglish! She knew she had seen it before, embossed and etched into the stone tablets at the Cathedral of Bone! A holy language. A dead language.

"Tomes," she said, this time not being able to resist grabbing her horns in frustration. A habit from her childhood.

"What does this even mean!? Is she a member of the Human Church? A human saint?"

"You told me she said she wasn't religious, right?" The quartermaster looked at her with a sympathetic look.

"Don't worry Captain, it gets worse. Anathor?"

"Hmm…" came the rough voice from the moose.

"It's not quite Anglish, Captain. It's Old Anglish, the proto-language the original human Bible was written in, telling of the great demon of Good, Speaker of a Thousand Words... Christ himself."

"Damn right," said Tomes, "when I twigged it was Anglish I asked her why she wrote in that language, and get this, Captain: she looked at me like I asked something dumb and said it's what everyone wrote in and spoke, where she's from." Serena put her head in her hands, letting out a muffled groan, which didn't stop Tomes from continuing.

"Which means, Captain, if she's telling the truth, she's either from some secret sect, some nation from one of the distant continents, or she's from another realm."

"She's certainly not a native of Cascadia…" Anathor chimed in.

"Then why can she speak Imperial!? She speaks it perfectly!" Serena was just able to resist throwing her hands up in frustration, having regained a little bit of control.

"Could it be… a blessing?"

"Aye, a blessing." Tomes nodded. The fell gods, and even some of their more powerful servants, could bequeath blessings upon those worthy. Blessings took many forms, but generally either gave an ability to an individual, or enhanced one they already had. A language was certainly possible.

"Alright. Alright," Serena said, "theory time. One of the fell gods, or some powerful entity from the mists gave this human from a land far away the blessing to speak Imperial. They then either realm-shifted or otherwise transported her into my quarters… for what purpose?" Serena intentionally left out the tidbit that Amelia had changed bodies. That was the type of secret she wanted to keep close to her chest. Tomes shrugged.

"It could be that, but then again, it just raises further questions… Why her? Why you?"

"Let's put this to the side for now. My head's going to fucking explode if we keep going down this line of reasoning. Hopefully, I'll wake up tomorrow and it'll have all been a bad dream." She eyed her quartermaster.

"What else is there? Did you find out about how she became a Speaker?"

"I asked. She said she trained. I asked what kind of training and she said she wouldn't say, not that she didn't want to, but she didn't know how to explain it without giving an inaccurate picture of events. I poked further but she clammed up."

"The human claims she spent most of her life in a hospital bed," Anathor said.

"I'd be very interested in knowing what kind of bed-bound training can produce a Speaker. Could it be a blessing?"

"No blessing in history has ever made anyone a Speaker," Tomes said, shaking his head.

"We could find out," Serena said.

"The human church would be able to tell the nature of the blessing if they examined her, wouldn't they?" Tomes took his spectacles off, steaming them up with some hot breath then setting about cleaning them on his shirt.

"How are we going to get a human priest to do that? We could kidnap one, but then we'll have the Inquisitor Navy after us, and that'll be the end of us, Vengeance or no Vengeance."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that..." Anathor said softly, almost too quiet to hear. Serena shrugged.

"Guess we'll wait and see if the opportunity arrives. We've already got one human friendly toward demonkind, why not another?" Tomes chuckled at that.

"Did you find out anything else about her powers? She can speak the First-Word, but is she a fourth-circle mage?"

"She said she was not sure and would need to experiment. Not sure what that means, but then I thought if she had a blessing that helped her become a Speaker, she could be quite new to it, and not know her limits." Serena found herself nodding at that. Unlike Tomes, she and Anathor knew Amelia was in a new body. Perhaps the soul transfer meant she wasn't yet sure what she was capable of. Amelia had said she hadn't Spoken in her new body yet.

"As for first, second, and third-circle…" Tomes continued, "she said she knows a range of healing spells, ward spells, and what she called support spells." He took a breath.

"And for all of these, she claimed she could cast them as a field spell." Serena narrowed her eyes at that. It was more than she hoped.

"How many spells can a typical human healer cast?"

"Somewhere between four to six as a third-circle healer. Maybe ten as a Speaker of the Words. But the way she was talking implied she knew a lot more."

"And her aether capacity? Did she go into detail on that?"

"I er… didn't get around to it. To be honest, at this point it was hard for me and Dagon to keep a straight face. You would have had to be there, Captain. She was talking about all of this so casually. I don't think she realises how taboo it normally is for a Speaker to discuss their abilities."

"Yeah, that's in line with how she's behaved with me." Serena leaned back in her chair, allowing a few deep breaths to calm her mind.

"Family? Friends?"

"No family, she claims. Didn't ask about friends."

"And about her employment?"

"Yeah"–Tomes looked awkward suddenly–"about that."

"Just tell me, Tomes, I can't get any more surprised."

"Well, she seemed especially delighted about being your maid. Even when I used the term adviser, she kept referring to herself as a maid. Talked about wanting a proper uniform and everything." Serena felt her eyebrow twitch. Speaker or not, she was definitely going to find an excuse to stab her. Maybe she'd say it was practice for Amelia to get used to her new body and its abilities.

"Compensation?" she asked.

"Offered her twelve hundred Denarii a month. Fair wage for a Speaker and, to be honest, she's probably worth more, especially considering the fact that she's a healer. She's ignorant enough that we could shortchange her, but why risk losing her when she finds out her value? Not like we could stop her leaving."

"Agreed. Anything else?"

"She wants me to teach her how to write, High Imperial that is. Figured that'll be fine, and gives a good excuse for me to find some more answers. And…" Tomes put his hands behind his back, shuffling awkwardly. Could headaches get headaches? Serena was sure that was about to happen.

"…She wants you to teach her the sword. Said she's got no need to get better at magic, said she's never held a sword in her life." As Tomes said this he tensed, as if expecting an outburst from her. Instead, she found herself smiling.

"Captain?"

"Oh, I think we can do that. I think that would work very well."

"Hmm…" Anathor piped up.

"You have that look in your eye again, Captain."

"What look!?" she snapped.

"Nothing. Nothing…"

"Prepare the contract, Tomes. Dismissed."

"Yes, Captain." The quartermaster turned and opened the door, but before leaving, his eyes met with hers.

"You know, Captain… with her being a Speaker… with everything that's happened, everything we've seen… do you think… with her… there's a chance?"

"A chance for what?"

"That… never mind. This old man is thinking stupid things again."

"Get some rest, Tomes. Dismissed."

"Yes, Captain." The door closed and Serena let herself stare off into blank space. She had known Tomes for many years; they barely needed to talk to communicate with each other. She knew what he was going to ask, and she was thankful he didn't. Given their situation, there were some questions that really, really should not be asked. For the wrong answer, spoken at the wrong time, could escalate this war into something beyond her darkest fears.