When I woke up, my eyelids still felt quite weighty. It took a few moments to register something had been draped on my shoulders, running down my back. Slowly taking it off revealed it to be a thin beige shawl that had a familiar scent. Howe must've dropped by for supper call and left it on me when she saw I was asleep.
That conclusion would be supported logically by the glass of water and plate with a sandwich underneath a plastic wrap to the right of the laptop. A charming little note on a tiny slip of paper was stuck to the toothpick where an olive might've gone. It read, Eat me!
A tinge of guilt hit when I read it, tossing the shawl gently onto the bed. Then a little ache began to radiate in my head. Perhaps I'd pushed myself a little too hard. But this isn't the first I've missed a quick snack, so surely Howe would understand. Then again, she'd told me she'd do something if I started getting affected. And damn it, my head hurts.
It is past midnight. I think I might as well just go to sleep–
Wait! I'd told myself earlier that I'd get as much done with the mission logs as I could. I'd be lying to myself if I didn't follow through for the nth time. Unwrapping the sandwich and waking the laptop once more, I steeped myself in the work once again. I guess it would be good to have a limit, though. Cutoff at 0100 hours, I told myself firmly, keeping awareness of the pain. And then, I opened the workspace.
Once again, I woke up slumped at the desk with a blanket or something over my shoulders. This time, however, my rousing start was made ten times more abrupt by someone who appeared to have been waiting for me.
"You missed supper last night," Howe said plainly. Guilt bubbled up in me more as she added, "And breakfast this morning. Just how late were you up last night? I couldn't wake you up if the ship were sinking!"
"Alright, I'm really sorry. Can I explain myself after breakfast? Thanks for the sandwich by the way," I added hoping to sound the nicest I could despite the grogginess tainting my words. It didn't help that I still had some residue from the headache last night.
She crossed her arms and deadpanned me sternly. "Perhaps you didn't hear me. It's eleven o'clock. You're technically having brunch now."
That was definitely not the right way to be addressing a superior officer but given the unique state my relationship with everyone in the force had been taking so far, it figures I might be able to let it slide. It isn't as if I have moral high ground to defend myself, anyway. I can't blame her. And, frankly, if I were in her position with the same motives and goals, I'd probably do the same thing. Results over etiquette. No matter what. "Right," I said slowly. "Apologies for missing that, too."
"Sure," she said though I doubted that had her usual full sincerity in it. "I'll grab you some food. Then you'll give me an answer to what's going on with you. A real one."
As she walked out of the room, I shook my head and the blanket off me, letting it fall laxly to the floor. Getting up and feeling the blood flow back into my legs was perhaps the sole proprietor of positive energy at my disposal, so I took it gladly, swinging them out gently to warm myself up all the way. Stretching to crack my back, an ever-cathartic sensation, I took a deep breath, letting my eyes refocus and my head stop swirling. The light pouring in from the windows indeed indicated that it was nearing midday. The sprawled notes and sleeping laptop sloppily laid out on the desk were proof enough of what had kept me up.
Thus, my plight. I receive prompts to accomplish a report, fill in a form, and write up a paper for the archive. Then, I start all these things promptly, as one would. Decent progress would be made, going up to what would be alright foundations for getting everything together. That was the danger zone, where my mentality shifted without warning, volatile as the weather at a mountain's peak. My subconscious would unrelentingly convince itself that guaranteed accomplishment was somehow cemented with just those foundations. Obviously, a foolish non-discernment. Unfortunately, one not so easily corrected.
And so it went. The requirements to accomplish reports, fill forms, and write statements would accumulate. Perhaps these don't sound overly numerous – and frankly, they aren't – but the initial authoring plus run-through after run-through made it very meticulous work. So, when that mental snag hits me, it hits like a truck. All of the sudden, any capacity for professional commitment was pitched out the window like a fastball.
Here is the crux of the issue. If I were to fall short on my duties – if any one person were to fall short on their duties out here – that might mean one innocent person would be devoted to peril back home. The war that might kill them and myself…
I had to do more.
I had to be doing so much more than this if I were to protect the people I cared about.
Yet, here I am. Short on deadlines. Still recovering from a miserably sleep-deprived work frenzy. Having disappointed one of the nicest people I'd barely just met with my…perhaps the word is incompetence.
Just as suddenly, Howe returned to rip me out of my self-beratement. I supposed that if our previous exchanges from the past few days were any indication, I would soon be voicing a lot of those grievances aloud. I could only hope that I was ready to deliver it with conviction and that I was ready to let her help. Because if I weren't, then…what am I even doing here? "Here's your food," she said. "Beef broth from the other day. And some fruit."
I took notice of the accompanying apple that had been placed on the side of the dish and nodded. "Thank you, really." She hummed shortly and went silent as I took a scoop of the soup. "That's still good stuff," I said, making a rather forced attempt at lightheartedness.
"Sure it is," she said. It pained me slightly when that didn't brighten her up at least a little. "Don't try and shift lanes. You fell asleep at your desk at some point past midnight. I know because you ate the sandwich. I can usually brush that off. I've seen some friends – even myself at some points – pull shifts like that. And I know some people can make themselves go for much longer," she shook her head. "But that doesn't mean it's healthy regardless. The paperwork doesn't sound all that dense, the way you're making it out to be. Yet I've long suspected that isn't the case. So, do you want to clear things up for me?"
I sighed and set the spoon down, the need to have breakfast subsiding if only to get Howe back to her usual self. Surprisingly – or not so, once again considering the circumstance and brief history – I'd grown an attachment to her disposition. Correspondingly, it hurt to see her like this. So, I was going to rectify that. Even if it meant my stomach would have to grumble and wait. "I was working on some backlogged papers," I said softly, fresh shame rearing its ugly head. "One of them was due for recording last week. I finished it yesterday evening after really slogging it. Then I needed to log forms for the first three days of our mission. Well, four, now," I corrected myself tiredly.
Howe shook her head. "Why didn't you finish the first one last week, then? And what happened with the mission logs? I was under the impression those needed to be accomplished day-by-day unless circumstances were extraordinary in some way."
To me, these circumstances are kind of extraordinary. But I reprimanded myself inwardly for thinking that. There was nothing special about what was happening. At least, not for an officer who was deemed qualified for this position. "I…"
Just before the next word could spill out, I felt my face heat up. A sudden reflexive contortion seemed to have wrested control of my face, forcing my lips into a frown and my eyes to shut. That incited some moisture to start flowing out.
Damn it, I thought to myself. Immediately, my breaths slowed and my heart which I'd only now noticed had been kicking up calmed down. Drying the mist from my eyes before opening them, I looked Howe dead in hers. Another soft wave of guilt, though accompanied by something else I couldn't quite place, washed over me when I saw hints of her heartfelt concern starting to show.
"I used to be able to do that," I continued with an air of regret. "But now, I see even just five documents, and my motivation gets–" I clicked my fingers for effect, "–sapped out. It's…incredibly infuriating. Whenever I try to do something about it or force myself to start, which usually works, I end up getting sidetracked and focused on something else entirely instead. Case in point," I gestured with a hand, "the past four days."
Howe nodded understandingly but had the odd sense to know there was still something more. She picks up on things like that.
"I've synthesized a few factors for me to blame and focus improvement on," I said. "Foremost is, much like the task force itself, the kind of papers they require changed, too. That, and I'm an overseeing officer now. I suppose it's natural that things were much easier when all I needed to take care of was a quick notification regarding my flotilla and then handing that off to the Admiral so he handles the compiling. But now that that responsibility's on me…"
"You're realizing just now how strenuous the work is," Howe finished.
"Yeah," I nodded. "It's ridiculous, though," I added my voice suddenly getting a shade exasperated. "Who on earth needs reports so detailed? There are three separate fields for the first and second halves of the day, plus a completely redundant general synthesis! And then for combat engagements, I need to collect individual statements, too. That makes zero sense! You'd think the system was designed by a high school student who was trying too hard. How does McConnell put up with it?"
"Well, since you asked that…I only heard the gist of it from chats with Monarch but," Howe began slowly, rubbing her chin. Markedly, her tone had at least softened. "I believe the Commander lets people write their own statements plus parts of the mission log itself that they might fill better, in the case of combat. As for regular logs for days when nothing but conversation and less extravagant developments happen," she continued, slowly constructing her sentence, "he and Monarch simply split the work."
That's interesting. "Huh. I would've thought to ask him that, but I'd underestimated how far in-depth I'd have to go," I said, processing her information. "So, he essentially has a…secretary?"
"Mhm," she nodded. "Now I think I've figured out what's happened to you and what's causing the demotivation."
I raised my brow and sat up. "Ah yeah?"
"Yep," she said confidently. "You're experiencing burnout."
"Burnout."
"Yep."
"As in, I'm burnt out," I repeated slowly.
"Exactly."
"How?" I chuckled, a little hesitant to accept the reasoning. "It was my understanding that burnout only really happens when the work gets heavy. It honestly wasn't that heavy until the mission started."
"Yes, but you still had work in your prior posting, no?" She asked.
I nodded. "But, again, it was much lighter."
"But work is work," she pointed out. "And deadlines are deadlines." It felt like what I'd done on the battlefield, she'd now reversed on me off it. Hone your deduction skills, James.
Admittedly, it hadn't come to my attention that even those seemingly mundane tasks might've been contributing to slowly wearing away my capacity for them, however light the load might have been. That would explain the gradual decline in my fervor to get things done, and why the mission seemed to have exacerbated it to a far worse degree so suddenly. "So, what you're telling me is that the little things pile up."
"There you go," she said. "You've got it. How exactly were you going about those 'little papers?'"
I shrugged. "Well, I'd start everything at once, then slowly make prog–" The realization hit me when Howe's eyes widened, and she slumped subtly on the bedside where she sat. "Right," I nodded, understanding coming up to speed. "Yeah, now that I say it like that, that sounds like an awful idea."
"You'd start everything at once then slowly build all of them up," she finished the sentence for me. "James, how did you survive academy?"
A chuckle I couldn't suppress slipped out and my cheeks started heating up again, though for a different reason this time. Palming my face, I replied through the gaps in my fingers, "Shut up." Lowering my hand, I looked at her and we both started snickering. "I just…did things like that. It worked well all the way up until now."
"And no one ever told you multitasking like that was a bad idea?" She asked.
"I always met my deadlines," I said defensively.
"Unbelievable," she shook her head. "No. I don't buy it. Your time management must have been excellent."
I snapped my fingers as I arrived at a realization. "That was it! I always had a very set-in-stone schedule. When I signed onto the Navy, that was lost. Suddenly, anything could happen anytime, which is why my usual workflow wasn't going as well as it usually does."
"Goodness," she giggled. "Well, I suppose you'll learn to connect things like that much faster in time."
"Oh, you–," I jokingly admonished her.
She giggled playfully and moved the conversation forward when I sighed and tried to get my ruffled hair a little more under control. "Alright, I've decided," she said. "I'm going to help you get through all this."
"How so," I furrowed a brow.
"I volunteer as your secretary."
I was about to protest when I considered the easy and obvious variables. She is my flagship, meaning we'd have the most time one-on-one out of anyone else. We'd also grown quite close, meaning our working relationship should be spurred on by our personal one, provided professional boundaries were set. And she had a good eye for detail, indicated at the very least by her skill in the kitchen which I still had no hope of catching up with. So far, most of my 'lessons' had simply been waiting for the pots. A job – as I'd slowly come to appreciate why it originated the expression watched-pot wait – that was quite taxing on one who wasn't too used to actively waiting on a pot to boil. That's an issue for later, though. "Alright," I replied. "I hereby declare you my secretary of the fleet."
She picked up on the humor and giggled lightly. "I am honored at the privilege," she replied, bowing mock-ceremoniously. "What's our agenda for the rest of today so that I can start keeping a tasklist?"
"Well," I said, pausing to think. "First, I'd like to chat with Charybdis and Vampire respectively, similar to Zed and Eugen from the other day. Then, depending on how long that takes, you and I can either prepare for dinner or start making dents in the dense paperwork. After that–"
Just then, my stomach growled. Howe snickered cheekily and said, "After that, I don't think we should worry about first. You need to get the rest of that brunch in you."
"Sure, yeah," I relented with a soft laugh.
"I'll come back to retrieve you when you're full and freshened up," she added, standing up and making her way to the door. Except, just as I was starting to scoop another helping of food, I felt a weight press against my back and two arms wrapping warmly around me. "Take care of yourself, alright?" Howe said as she hugged me from behind the chair.
My heart skipped a beat as the gravity of the moment crashed down. My face flared white-hot, and I hastily set the spoon down, splashing some drops of soup on the tabletop. Thankfully, none of it stained any of the papers. Uncertainly, I put a hand over hers and squeezed. "Copy that."
She whispered something unintelligible before letting go of me and finally walking out the door, leaving me stunned and my hunger hushed.
Wow, I mused to myself. That was…interesting. Maybe even a little out of nowhere, but I supposed looking at the 'change of pace' being on this team brought, it was simply another idiosyncrasy completely to be expected. As I grew attached to Howe even though most of our conversations up until now had been entirely casual, it would be reasonable to assume that goes both ways to develop into something more platonic. I chuckled to myself. Still thinking like a tactician.
I brushed off the rest of my thoughts to get focused on eating again, save for her parting words to me. Take care of yourself.
With newly refreshed insights garnered from our brief (and just a smidge emotional) conversation, I vowed to do just that when my stomach seemed to regain its senses and badgered me to get back to the food.
"Oh, hello, master!" Charybdis greeted enthusiastically as we found her brewing something up in the galley of her ship. "What can I do for you?"
"Well, the most pertinent question for me," I gestured in the direction of the bow, "would be about those missile tubes on your deck."
Charybdis raised a brow before processing the question, understanding flickering onto her face. "Oh! Those are the Ac-1 missiles," she explained simply. "I was the one selected for them to be installed, remember?"
"Well, now I do. My mind was…" I paused as Howe gave me a knowing look and I returned it with a soft chuckle. "My mind was fogged with a lot of other things recently. It should start clearing up, though, so that's nice."
"Oh, that is nice to hear!" The maid chittered innocently, perhaps unaware of the weighted discussion Howe and I had regarding those 'other things.' "Anyway, please have a seat, then we can chat all about it! Would you two fancy coffee or tea?"
"Tea, if you would please," Howe replied courteously.
"Hot chocolate," I replied immediately after. The two looked at me with playful frowns. I knew exactly what was coming, though, and responded accordingly. "What? Call it a child's drink, but it tastes nice to most, still gives me a good jump of energy, and allows me to take neither side in that debate."
Howe cupped her mouth and failed at concealing her quiet laughter.
Charybdis tittered but nodded nonetheless. "Very good, Captain. A coffee and a hot chocolate, coming up!"
I wasn't too keen on waiting until she was finished with her preparations, however. Thanks to my stunt with the papers, I'd already wasted half the day, doubling the time pressure. I still made sure not to rush her, though. That wouldn't be fair. "Why wasn't the missile installation in any of the written briefs," I asked as we headed for one of the tables.
"Oh, I can inform you about that in a bit if you'd like." Welp. So much for time pressure. "But essentially, it was to keep the confidentiality of the weapon system. They tried to make the tubes look as inconspicuous as possible. The workers from the port were told to pretend it was an advanced communications array of some sort."
"I don't know how effective that would've been," I joked. "People know what missiles and tubes look like."
The maid shrugged as she put two chocolate blocks into a mug. "The Royal Navy tries."
"Yes, I suppose it does." I decided that trying to force conversation immediately like this would effectively slow us down in the long run, making patience the more sustainable option for now. So, I started up a quick chat with Howe while we waited for our drinks. "Did you not tell anyone else I was still asleep?"
"Well, for one, I thought you'd be embarrassed. So, I didn't," Howe replied. "And, either the calls they were making were things I could handle myself, or I told them you were very busy. Which is a half-truth if we stretch it," she added.
A sprinkling of dry humor was on throughout her words, making me smirk. At least she was already willing to laugh about it. "I guess it is."
"I also knew I needed to carve myself a path to you opening up, so, the extra work on me was warranted," she said. "You gave me a real answer, so I can thus give you real help."
"Thank you for being a real one," I replied. "All too difficult to find one of those nowadays."
"I am inclined to agree." We both paused to look at Charybdis pouring some milk into a mug before Howe said, "What brings you to ask that question?"
I shrugged, "Just wondering."
Charybdis suddenly appeared beside the table with a cup that had a bag hanging out of it by a thread in one hand, and a mug that said #1 Captain in the other. "Here you are," she said as she set the two drinks down in front of us.
I snickered at the print on my mug as she pulled a chair out from under the table and sat. "Did you accommodate a commanding officer before?"
Her cheeks colored in a faint blush. "Well–"
"Oh, hang on," I nodded, "I get it. You have a number one mug for every rank, don't you?" My creasing smirk could no longer be helped.
"A maid comes prepared!" She chirped, though her face and voice rendered any real impact into an adorable squee.
"No, no," I appeased her gently. "I'm not judging, I just think that's a little funny." She pouted a little as I took a little sip of the drink. "And, barring all that," I nodded approvingly, "it is good hot chocolate."
"You missed an opportunity to ask her if there was 'another man,'" Howe inserted as Charybdis started glowing at the compliment. Now, the maid had once again gone beet-red.
My eyes widened in surprise. "Howe?"
The blonde set her teaspoon down as she started laughing heartily in her seat. "I'm sorry," she said between breaths, "I'm sorry. That was just too perfect–"
"Right," I shook my head sarcastically. "I apologize for my secretary's behavior, Charybdis. She's in quite the playful mood right now, as you can see."
The light cruiser was clearing her throat and fighting to clear her cheeks of the rosy tinge. "Oh, it's alright, Captain. Humor is essential for clearing stress."
So she picked up on the 'other things,' too.
"See?" Howe chipped in once again, having recollected herself. "You're already starting to smile more, too!"
I scratched the back of my head. "Sure, sure," I said. "Let's get on to business, shall we? Don't worry, it should be quick. I wanted to ask you, Charybdis, if you've self-assessed your abilities with the missiles."
"Oh," she said. "Well, I've had a glimpse at the targeting interface. It's very different from a regular cannon, but the reticule and accompanying readings are sufficiently self-explanatory. I think I'll require some target practice if you wish for me to hit directly and consistently, though."
I nodded thoughtfully, sipping some more chocolate. "So noted."
"Maybe I could help you," Howe offered Charybdis. "If I can have a look at the interface, I may yet give you some pointers on targeting at even longer ranges. Though, I've never worked with missiles before, either. None of my projectiles are self-propelling, in case you two haven't noticed." Charybdis and I chuckled as Howe continued, "But I have a feeling I can still assist if you want me to."
"I think that would be most useful," Charybdis said.
"Yeah," I nodded. "A second pair of eyes would be in any situation."
"Mhm." "Yep!"
"So, that's arranged, then. Can you get yourself well-acquitted with the system by the time we get to Norway," I asked Charybdis. "That's in roughly three days."
"I believe so, Captain," she said with what I felt was as much confidence as she could muster.
"Very good," I nodded.
The next thirty minutes passed as the three of us proceeded with the small talk and petty banter that I always so enjoyed. Crucially, I felt a new sense of relief. The background noise nagging me to get back to work was slowly being muted.
"Next up on the list is Vampire," I told Howe as we talked back to the Charybdis' deck. Charybdis herself had taken it upon herself to clean up after us so that we could underway, an arrangement I wasn't going to protest. "I guess we might as well bundle in Javelin, too. Would you prefer to rest first before we do that? From there, it'll be straight onto dinner and then paperwork in the evening, so there might not be time for anything beyond a power nap."
As if on cue, a yawn came about her. "Well, I suppose that answers the question," she giggled. "Will you be lying in, too?"
"Noperinoes," I said. "I've been asleep half the day while you've been covering for me." I held up a finger as she made to rebuke, "Even if it was 'easy' work, I still don't feel it's fair if we both have a siesta at this time. You deserve the rest, don't worry about it. I'll just be up on the bridge to keep watch." And maybe to get started on an exit strategy too, I added in my head. If things were to get hairy at Håkøya, I very much wanted to be ready.
"Alright! Now," she gestured playfully. "Come on! I'll give you a piggyback."
I rolled my eyes but went along with it. Unfortunately, they still hadn't figured out shoes that would allow us regular folk to skate on the waves too. Oh, well. With time.
It was probably one and a half hours when Howe woke up from her sleep and we set off to the agreed-upon meeting place aboard the Vampire. The battle plan was coming along nicely if I might say so to myself, however self-assured it may be. There were still many moving pieces that needed to be fit into place – such as Javelin, Vampire, and our newest addition U1206 – but nothing that I couldn't handle. We'd arrive in Norway in three days. That would be enough time.
When Howe and I reached the Vampire and began making for the galley, I couldn't help but peer at the curious decorative choices the girl had made when deciding the look of her ship.
Though not necessarily sinister, the environment was certainly distinctly lower-light than most others. Warm glows played much of the illumination, and the paint along the inner corridors was a darker shade of gray. When we turned the corner into the meeting room, Vampire and Javelin were wrapped in enthusiastic chatter about something or other.
The two destroyers noticed us, and they waved. "Hello, Captain! Miss Howe!" "Greetings!"
"Hello," we replied in sync. Strangely, they gasped theatrically and started giggling. "What's happening?" I asked as we took our seats, Howe next to Vampire, and myself next to Javelin on the other side of the table.
"Oh, nothing~," the white-haired girl teased.
My arse, I thought sarcastically.
"So, what did you want from us, Captain?" Javelin asked, happy-go-lucky as ever.
Brushing chatter aside and considering that it was already three-thirty, I decided to get things underway and save the rest for supper. "It's about the mission. I'll start with you, Vampire," I explained. "How do you feel I might maximize you on the battlefield?"
"I like to bethink I can playeth a part in an effective screen," she replied after some thought.
"That makes sense," I nodded. "Destroyers are protectors. I noticed that you and Javelin are quite friendly with each other.
She tilted her head inquisitively. "Does that playeth a part in aught?"
"Of course it does," I replied simply. "Unfortunately, I don't have nearly enough data on either of you to gauge team cohesion properly, but maybe you can at least offer me some insight. If I were to assign you to make fast, sweeping maneuvers whilst dropping an accurate torpedo spread, would you be confident in doing so reliably?"
Big damage, fast. As Z23 had said.
"Aye," Vampire replied. "Some preparation bef'rehand wouldst be for the best, of course, but I can do it."
"Good," I nodded before looking at Javelin. "And you, Javelin. Would you be able to cooperate fluidly with Vampire in a more fast-paced engagement?"
"Yes, sir," Javelin said brightly. "I'm used to working with almost everyone in the Royal Navy. We're familiar with what the other has to offer, so you can count on us!"
Her disposition proved to be infectious, and I cracked a grin. "That's wonderful to hear. Well, I suppose that about wraps us up–"
"You smiled again!" Howe cut me off. I wondered where she was concealing her sarcasm while Javelin snickered and Vampire cupped her cheek playfully.
"Yes, okay," I began, making sure my own sarcasm was clear as the sun currently bolting for the horizon. "Are you just going to keep pointing that out?"
Howe smirked. "Yes."
I sighed and rolled my eyes, letting her have her small victories. "Anyway, as I was saying before we were interrupted. We're wrapped up for the business side of things unless either of you has something you want to ask of me."
"I do!" Javelin chirped.
"Go ahead."
"Why are you asking us these questions? Not that finding out more about us is strange," she said, "but the talk about how you'd 'maximize us on the field' seemed a little specific."
I sighed and evaluated my options. They were going to find out one way or another, regardless of whether it came from me or some wayward spillage of confidential information. Part of the picture should do. "I've received talk of potential ambushes set up in the region we'll be heading to," I said gently. The two destroyers' eyes widened in surprise. "I promise to give you all the details a day before we arrive. That's in about two days," I said. "Until then, please do not be so overanxious as to gossip it to the rest of the force. It's confidential for good reason, and you are to be briefed at the set time for good reason. Understood?"
They exchanged glances before each nodding uncertainly. "Aye, Captain."
"Alright," I nodded. "If that's the only question, then we'll be on our way. You two be on the lookout for supper call, yeah?"
A much more enthusiastic Aye, Captain was my response, and Howe and I made back for the flagship.
When we arrived, Howe offered a suggestion. "I think we should take it slowly from here on out. We still have the rest of today and this evening. Although, I think it would also be wise to have supper an hour earlier. What d'you make of it?"
"Ah, an hour earlier so we have more time to work afterward," I surmised. "Yeah, that is a smart move. Go on ahead. I'll take a quick nap and wait for the call."
"Sure! Sweet dreams," she grinned.
I returned the sentiment. "Thank you. Have fun with the watch."
She saluted playfully. "Aye, aye, Captain!"
I could hear her giggling as we went our separate ways.
