In fifteen minutes they had all reconvened in the Striker bay of Doris, having dropped whatever they were doing and proceeded there at Jean's instruction. Fortunately shepherding the convoy had largely been completed and the Flower corvettes would be able to handle the rest of it. All six bay doors were swung open, casting the bright afternoon light down onto their U-Strikers and bathing the rest of them in reflected rays. Jean gathered them in a line near the passageway aft, just as she had that morning.
"I have good news and bad news." she said.
"Good news first!" Clark demanded.
"I've always been a bad news first sort of person." Jean said, "The bad news is that Prien has, in defiance of even the nationalists, become an intelligent Neuroi-human hybrid. The nationalists lost control of all of their test subjects and these have turned against humanity, Prien being no exception. These rogue experiments are the 'hunter-killers' which have been thinning our ranks. She can also control Neuroi in a limited way."
Jean paused and looked at everyone, seeing if they were understanding. They were, though their reactions were muted as one would expect.
"She has the underwater breathing power and an advance prototype Striker in her hands, in addition to a newfound ability to shoot Neuroi beams from her eyes. Watch out for that." Jean said. The first one to react was Jackie, who started to laugh.
"You almost had me going there. Lasers from her eyes, honestly. How absurd. It sounds like something out of a radio serial. What's the real reason you brought us back?" Jackie said, between laughs. Her laughter died down when she saw that Jean wasn't laughing. She then quietly said: "...ah merde."
"What's the good news?" Briskie ventured timidly after a period of quiet.
"The good news is that, in view of our situation, I've managed to wrench some classified data out of Admiral Dönitz." Eva said, "Neuroification research is in its infancy and, excepting the bestial amorality of the nationalists, not at all intended for human experimentation. Prien appears to be the only one who made it through the process with her intellect and, ahem, 'sanity,' apparently intact."
"Hey! That isn't good news." Clark said.
"Not for us, so much." Eva said. There were some utterly half-hearted murmurs of approval.
"There's more." Jean said.
"This is all bad news!" Clark complained. Jean made a gesture at Clark informing her her to zip it.
"The convoy is being tailed by a large flying Neuroi at a safe distance. It's probably waiting to attack under cover of night when our AA will be ineffective. Since they don't usually use tactics like that, I assume it's Prien's handiwork. That means she's planning to attack ONS 5, perhaps due to a personal grudge." Jean said, to which Jackie sighed and threw up her hands.
"You just had to knock one of her teeth out, didn't you." Jackie said.
"My only regret is that I stopped when I did." Jean said, "So deal with it. The good news is,"
"Oh this'll be rich." Clark muttered in interruption. Jean pointed at her and a totally silent best-of-3 match of RPS transpired between them, the unstated outcome of which was Clark shutting the hell up. Jean triumphed and Clark scrunched up her nose in defeat.
"As I was saying," Jean said, "The good news is that, according to intelligence, Prien and the other Neuroified hunter-killers can't control Neuroi directly. She has to contact with them and convince them to join her."
"Behold, I retrieved some whale milk!" Miki said, and held aloft a bucket of the stuff. To call it an acquired taste was an incredible understatement. Alone among them Miki was unaffected by the news of a terrible new enemy. In truth the prospect of such a daunting opponent seemed only to energize her. Miki swirled her finger around in the fishy milk, which was pure white and had the consistency of a greasy, thick batter. She managed to get some of it off her finger and into her mouth, but an equal amount dripped onto her cheek and her pale cleavage. She remained blissfully unaware of the obscene image she had made of herself.
"See?" Jean said looking at Clark, and gestured to Miki, "That's good news. Everyone loves milk! Good job, Miki."
Miki smiled toothily and, when she clasped her hands in front of her, her forearms pushed her breasts together, forming a little pool of the thick milk in them. For a split second, Jean noticed, essentially everyone was looking at her chest. The Fuso's high spirits and airy sexuality took the edge off the entire team. Jean took note.
"I know things sound bad, but the bottom line is that Prien is not all powerful. The Neuroi she commands are the same we've all faced many times. Her mind is warped by delusions and taxed by the demands of controlling her pets. Her Striker is worse than our own when in ground effect, and many of its anti-Nereid features have been sabotaged. On top of it all, Fate has assembled here a wolfpack that I would lead into the underworld. If I were given a choice of five Nereids, I'm not sure I would have done better." Jean said. Judging by the reactions of those present she had said, as she managed to say more or less the right thing.
"What I'd like to know the heck a splinter faction got that kind of equipment!" Clark said.
"They have their own research arm, aided by tendrils into our own R&D departments. Unbound by the standards of decency the rest of humanity shares, they have progressed farther in Neuroi research."
"Nonsense!" Clark said, "Someone did the heavy lifting. I know you know. Fess up!"
"Clark, that's enough." Jean said, even though she had thought very much the same thing about Eva's attempt to deflect suspicion. Eva went over and pulled out one of the drawers on the cabinet, removing from it a spare battery for one of the Striker units. Magic batteries were nothing new to them. They were a shared technology, like many other features of Sub Strikers.
"I imagine you've opened one of these up before. Even though you aren't supposed to." Eva said to Clark. She held the battery up in her right hand it was a jet black metal cylinder marked with numerous red warnings etched in red script. They were repeated in three languages. The top was sealed by bolts requiring special tools to undo. Anyone with an ounce of sense would have stayed far away. Clark had none such restraints, especially when it came to mechanical mysteries. Eva folded out a workbench and set the battery atop it where they could all crowd around.
"Nope. Never! That's grounds for dismissal." Clark said, looking off to the side and scratching her nose.
"What a terrible liar you are!" Jackie called over to Clark.
In spite of the serious injunctions against it, Eva started to unscrew the plate which sealed the battery. After she removed the cap there was another tube inside of it which they could only see the polished stainless steel top of. It had a handle emerging from it, indicating another apparatus that was resting in the protective casing of the battery like an Orussian doll. As a last measure of defense there was a keyed lock which held the interior tube in place.
"So that's what was behind your sudden interest in lock picking." Jean mused, folding her arms with interest.
"That's because I wanted to open Briskie's secret diary." Clark said. Briskie blushed and covered her pale face with a hand. Knowing Clark, after she'd deployed her skills against the battery lock, she might very well have turned them on the comparatively trivial problem of a keyed diary.
Clark's skills were obviated by Eva's possession of a key to the lock, which she inserted and turned without much ceremony and then hauled the entire apparatus out of its protective housing. It looked like the frame of a particularly modern handheld lantern, except in the place of an oil-fed wick was a block of resin containing a Neuroi core about the size of an eyeball. The tube was full of translucent goo that must've been relatively harmless based on Eva's cavalier attitude towards it. From the first Jean laid eyes on the black tube encircled with dire warnings she was given to the opinion that some things were best left alone, and events had not proved her wrong.
Eva took a deep breath and prepared to explain.
"Before the war began we found a Neuroi in Dacia which we named Vampire. It had the ability to steal magic from witches and use it against them." she said.
"Quite a foe! How did you beat it?" Miki wondered.
"That's a story I wouldn't be able to tell. The short of it is that we captured Vampire and found way to produce this. It feeds off of a Nereid and stores her magic energy when she is above water, and bleeds it into the direct magic engine when she isn't. One of these is inside every U-Striker limb." Eva said.
"So I bet the original Vampire was something really nasty." Clark said.
"Yes." Eva said, audibly halting herself before a useless elaboration on the point.
"And this version is just a kitten." Clark said, "But the prototype was an attempt to give it a little more bite. I get that it turns Nereids into Neuroi hybrids, which makes sense 'cause its a vampire and all, but my question is: is that how it is supposed to work?"
"I don't know." Eva said with a shrug, "It's difficult for me to say at what point the nationalists got a hold of the prototype, and what they did to it. My suspicion is that Neuroification is an unintended side effect which the nationalists then exploited."
Their conversation came to an abrupt halt with the entrance into the Striker bay of Lt. Loewen, the short and uptight communications officer for Doris.
"Commander Fluckey," Loewen said, inflecting Jean's bogus title as she had every time since its specious conferrence, "We've received a message which you might be interested in."
"From USN or KM?" Jean said. Loewen shook her head.
"The message is from Greta Prien. It follows:" Loewen said, pushing up her round glasses before she began reading from a transcript, "Broadcasting on all frequencies to the brave men and women of Convoy Outbound, North Liberion, Slow, Number 5. I was once called Greta Prien. Since my ascension I have taken command of all local Neuroi forces, second in authority only to the Colony itself. As such I am now to be referred to as Princess-"
Loewen was interrupted by a whole garden of dismissive outbursts from the girls, which ranged from the understated eye roll of Eva to the offensive Gallian mutterings of Jackie. Jean's favorite among these was Briskie, who covered her face in a proxy embarrassment more subtle and damning than any crafted insult. Eventually calm reestablished itself among them, hastened on by a patient yet withering gaze from Loewen, and then the prim officer continued Prien's missive.
"Since my awakening I have come to understand that the Neuroi want peace. I am entirely capable in my new role of negotiating such a settlement between our two races. But for the savagery and underhandedness of the Nereids-"
"Oh by Jove, you gotta be kidding me!" Clark said, earning another look of annoyance from Loewen. Jean pointed a warning finger to Clark, knowing that the airing of Adventures of Superman was at hand and she was not liable to risk further sanction. Clark folded her arms and looked at Jean as a child who had been successfully chastened but wanted to let it be known that they hated it. Loewen again picked up the script, emphasizing a couple choice words for effect.
"But for the savagery and underhandedness of the Nereids, such a peace would be possible. Your own girls have hunted my kind with little to no provocation. Our war is with them, not you. As such I am willing to offer you a mercy: when I come for the Nereids, and I will spare any ship which declines to support them. I will prioritize the destruction of any ship supporting them." Loewen said, and then looked up, "That concludes the transmission. She then repeats it in several languages."
"They have no chance of influencing the crews of the Flower-class corvettes or of Doris, the most important units in this." Eva said.
"That's true, but many of the merchants are armed. They could also provide rearming stations for our Oerlikons." Jean said. She still was toting around the lame Flak 2cm, but had located a cache of Oerlikon 20mm cannons aboard one of the ships and was looking forward to raiding it.
"Kind of a weird dilemma, ain't it?" Clark said, knitting her brow, "If none of the merchants help us, Prien'll probably destroy them anyway after she's done with us. The best outcome for all of them is for them to support us wholly. But... if only one or two drop out of the battle, and Prien is true to her word, they won't get targeted. There's a big payoff for anyone who doesn't participate, as long as everyone else does."
"So?" Jean said.
"So." Clark said, in the tone she always used to explain something which she considered obvious but wasn't, actually, "The ones who are fixin' to screw us over are gonna be secretive! They'll wanna win the battle but not have to fight. Then when it's over they're gonna say... 'oh, me engines had trouble' or 'we had us a fire' or something!"
"It'll be fine." Jean said, even though there was no way of knowing what anyone's intentions would be until zero hour. It was doubtful that inaction would be universal, but Jean knew personally that a ship's culture was a world unto itself. Oftentimes a single charismatic individual could sour any number on such concepts as courage and honesty. Like Eva said, though, the crews of the Flower-corvettes and the Doris would be resistant to such appeals. She also had some faith in the officers of Normandie. The others were wild cards.
"So um... did you say there's a flying Neuroi, and that we have only until nightfall?" Briskie said.
#
"We want to see Pilot Officer Katherine Stewart." Jean yelled up to the cluster of sailors manning the gunwales. She and her entire retinue were hovering around the base of the SS Empire Darwin, a catapult merchant ship in the service of the Britannian merchant marine. The men aboard probably had an inkling of what she was talking about, but pretended not to. They exchanged confused looks with each other and a smattering of shrugs towards the Nereids below. Their humble ship bobbed quietly in the gentle afternoon swells, not a cloud in sight.
"The catgirl?" one of them finally ventured, evidently too dull to catch on either to what Jean meant or the collective plot to pretend they didn't know. He received, for his transgression, some kind of blow that Jean was not party too but evidently caused him some distress.
The expendable Sea Witch, Kitty, soon appeared over the railing. She had a body rich in baby fat, Rubenesque, an odd type for a witch. Jean would bet that old age would not be kind to her, but in youth her unique softness invited close scrutiny. She had a dusting of freckles over the bridge of her rounded nose, an attractive look that Jean wished for herself rather than the birdshot blast of melanin she displayed. Kitty's long hair was a frizzy orange curled in tight ringlets, and seemed to leap out from her head with volume and bounce. Though she and Jean were both freckled redheads, they were distant cousins of that phenotype. At a prearranged signal they switched their engines to battery power, but remained in ground effect. Except for the whip of the propeller blades, it made for a quiet scene.
"It's a long way to Tipperary," Eva started singing up to Kitty, "It's a long way to home."
"It's a long way to Tipperary," Jean joined in, "to the sweetest girl I know."
"Goodbye, Piccadilly, farewell Leicester Square!" Clark sang, joined by Briskie and most of the crew of Empire Darwin, including Kitty.
"It's a long, long way to Tipperary, but my heart's right there!"
They had spent about half an hour mastering the entirety of the Tipperary song for the purposes of this serenade. When they finished the men along the rails cheered wildly. Kitty judged them with a steadily broadening smile and gave a wave.
"Come on up, the 'ole lot of you."
On the weather deck they were dismounted from their Sub Strikers by the crew of the Empire Darwin, which was unexpectedly professional in this task compared to the earlier treatment of their own Witch. Britannian politeness was a strangely contextual thing, but Jean gathered that since they saw that Kitty was one of their own, they felt a wide berth in abusing her. The Nereids of 7EG received treatment that was on par with, if not better than, they received aboard Sunflower. Even though the crew of the Darwin were definitely low class, which even the ordinarily class-numb Liberions perceived, they were regarded like minor royalty. It might even be the case, since Britannians of such a low rank might even view Nereids as on a higher level than themselves.
Kitty put her hands on her full hips and looked over the assembled Nereids on the forecastle with a pleasant smile. Her eyes were a pale blue, more like the sky than the deep blue of Eva's. She wore her country's uniform, which to their surprise was entirely complete.
"A Witch with pants!" Clark said.
"No. I'm not a Witch anymore. Decided to retire, I did. Just not cut out for it..." Kitty said, pressing her lips together. The girl didn't seem depressed as much as resigned.
"That's not true! You were felled by chance." Miki said, taking a step forward and holding her hand to her chest in earnest. Jean liked it when Miki moved quickly, since there was always some bounce associated with it.
"Funny thing about luck, see, that kinda thing doesn't 'appen to the golden witches. I just never 'ad the right stuff. Knew that every time I got a test back, or came back from an exercise. Knew it when I graduated at the bottom of me class and got posted to this 'eap o' junk... no offense," Kitty said, briefly turning to the crew and holding her arms out.
"Eh, none taken." one of them said, a sentiment which seemed shared among them.
"If I got involved in all this, I'd just put others in danger again." Kitty said.
"Could you at least-" Clark said. Jean clamped a hand over the girl's mouth.
"I know you guys are in a pinch, but with my Hurricat mostly destroyed I don't see that there's anything I can do. It's just the end of the line for me." Kitty said. Jean snapped off a quick salute to her.
"Go with God, then, Kitty. You know, they call me lucky, but I've had plenty of things blow up in my face. If you join another convoy take the same risks again, people will hail your courage and your luck in surviving the accident. If you retire, people will say it was understandable and lament that you were unlucky to have it happen to you. That's what luck is-a story. If you make it your own, you'll be lucky... to be alive, to be young, and to be in a position to make a difference."
#
They were in the Striker bay of Doris, and back at square one. Jean had gone to Kitty on the assumption that she had a spare Hurricane. That was doctrine. Evidently one had not been allotted to her due to wartime shortages.
"Clark has a proposal." Jean said, and folded her arms.
"I have two proposals. The first is that we go back to Empire Darwin and execute Operation Guilt Trip." Clark said, surging forward to take center stage.
"No. Besides, her Striker was blown to smithereens." Jean said.
"Feh. Why did we even go, then? Proposal number two: we find a radio."
"A radio?" Jackie said.
"Yes! And then we listen to The Adventures of Superman, as was promised to me for joining a suicide mission." Clark said.
"Suicide mission!?" Jackie said, somewhat appalled at the concept.
"You can't be serious. Do we have time for this?" Eva said, propping her cheek on her hand.
"We're going to do what I want for twenty friggin' minutes or I ain't lifting a finger over the Neuroi or Prien or Normandy." Clark said. Jean gestured to her permissively.
"I've gotta say, Clark, I respect a selfish streak. Okay, everyone, you heard her." Jean said.
As the program drew to a close they sat crowded around a speaker Clark had wired in from the tiny radio room aboard Doris. The Liberions and the Fuso sat on the floor-Indian style and seiza, respectively. Jackie and Eva had found chairs for themselves and occupied the row behind. The radio got a remarkably clear signal given that it was bouncing off the ionosphere and back. Clark and Briskie-and also Jackie, though she tried to hide it-leaned forward with interest. The current arc had the Man of Steel busy battling the Neuroi elsewhere while Lois and Jimmy Olsen attempted a perilous transatlantic voyage.
"Where in Liberion is Metropolis? I've never heard of it." Eva asked Clark.
"It's New York!"
"Some kind of nickname? I know they call it the Big Apple, but-"
"Shh!" Clark demanded. The radio program began to end-as always, on a little mystery.
"Oh Jimmy," Lois' voice actress whined out, "While Superman is busy fighting the Neuroi, how will our plane make it to Europe with half our fuel gone and one engine!"
It was in a reflective trance that Clark turned the dial down and clicked the set into the off position. Miki balled her fists and knitted her thin eyebrows, her brown eyes burning with sincere concern for the fictional characters. Evidently the Adventures of Superman had acquired a new listener in the Fuso girl. Jean expected that the program's earnestness and moral unambiguity would appeal to Miki. She enjoyed it herself, mostly for the same reasons, and of course it was a staple diet for Briskie and Clark. The program was, also as expected, somewhere below Eva's standards. The episode of the drama blew past her like a windswept leaf. Jean imagined she required heavier stuff to take notice. Even if Jean appreciated this perspective, she still had a toe in childhood herself, and-god willing-she'd never let it go.
"I got it." Clark said.
"Oh!" Miki said, excited, "How Jimmy and Lois will get out of this fix without the help of Superman?"
"No, how we will."
Clark didn't speak a word, but went over to the Striker racks and grabbed a nearby screwdriver. She set upon the frame of Briskie's Gato with it.
"Um..." Briskie said quietly. More out of curiosity than objection, given the frequency of Clark's attention to that very unit.
"That's how Lois and Jimmy make it to Europe! It's also how we make it to Metropolis. I mean, New York. It's a question of weight and power. Briskie's Striker has an experimental engine and is the only thing in this Striker bay which has the oomph to reach the clouds. 'course, I hafta get rid of all the stuff that makes it a submersible..."
Clark gestured to the array of junk inside the Striker's frame which had to be sacrificed: pumps, tubes, torpedoes, nuts and bolts, motors, and the black-clad 'batteries.' The thing had to be a fraction of the weight it once was. Unwieldy, but flight-worthy, when the inordinate power of Briskie's unreliable engine was taken into account.
"I understand." Jean said, "I'll fly it, then. I couldn't ask anyone else to do something so risky. I have flight hours on Broomsticks."
"As do I." Eva said. Jean exchanged a glance with her, feeling a pang of competitive spirit in her chest. No way was she going to let some Karlslander swoop in and do something crazy. That was her wheelhouse.
"Well, it's also based on a Gato, so." Jean said. Each of them drew closer to the other until they were pressed together, one hand each on the frame of the stripped-down Striker.
"At its current weight its more similar in handling characteristics to my own Type VIIB. It resembles a Gato very little." Eva said. Jean gritted her teeth, searching for a counter to this good point.
"Well...uh, I-"
Clark stepped in, put each of her hands on Jean and Eva's chests, and shoved the ambitious pair back several steps.
"I'm sure you two would be peachy, but this finicky magic engine is something I've been tuning for months. If either of you used it, it'd fail! There's only one person who can do this. What I'm saying is," Clark said, and pointed at a dumbstruck Briskie, "This is a job for you!"