Location: somewhere in the Sierraplata region

The Ironblood ships watched the shoals and atolls with curious intrigue. Upon their arrival, they had observed the few Rose Kingdom ships - the Aegir Fleet's to be exact - move to and fro. Activity was abound, yet the scattered land was bare of any fortifications. But it was not what lay atop the islands that was being protected and monitored, to be activated in the coming battles. Not exactly.

A skeptical look dominated Admiral Hipper's face. "Hah? Is this all there is in the middle of nowhere?"

"Surprising. Unconventional, even," remarked Köln. "But are you certain this will be enough?"

Nearby, Herne scoffed. She privately sneered at their presence, moreso as this was meant to be a secretive installation aided by its relative isolation. A specialized location built as a precaution in the nation's defense, to serve as a contingency. And with the tides still shifted against the Rose Kingdom, it was time for the contingency to come into play. Its time - its sole purpose - has come and it would be a waste to not use it.

"What do you think? You'd rather have us not bring out the cruise missiles we've stored here?"

Z23 stared at the nearest island, its mound a flat and artificial hump. Its only subtle mark was a wide flat bed of concrete, like a building foundation. Only a thick lid sat atop, its purpose foreboding and through intuition, the destroyer ascertained the deadly treasure that lay below. "Just how many have you stored here? I find it difficult to believe you can turn the tables with just these missiles."

Herne silently rolled her eyes. "What are you bozos even doing here anyway?"

"Just… looking around," Prinz Eugen answered with a sly smile. Herne groaned audibly at that; she hated that sort of response.

"Well you weren't invited here, so scram. This is supposed to be a secret-ish base so we're trying to keep a low profile here. You stick around here for any longer and-"

The distinct blare of an air-raid siren began to erupt. Everywhere, personnel stopped in their tracks, their duty cut short by what was to come. Off in the distance, Fenris started to bounce in a circle. "Alarm, alarm! They're coming! They're coming!"

Herne quietly glared at the Ironblood ships. "... You guys had better not leaked anything-"

"Hah? Are you really so quick to find scapegoats? We didn't know about this place until we got here, idiot!"

The destroyer ignored the remark, grabbing her rifle. "Oh forget about it. With the front getting close, it might've been only a matter of time before this location got revealed. We gotta defend the missiles until they're ready; otherwise, Tanager's going to be real pissed..."

Though understanding of the coming danger and the stakes, the Rose Kingdom's otherworldly allies hesitated. Heads turned to Prinz Eugen who, rather than immediately jump to aid in the defense, gazed to the numerous hidden silos tucked on the shoals. Exactly how many there were, she could not say. But despite this lack of information, this did not discourage a plot from flourishing in her mind.

She turned to her fellow ships. "U-73, U-556, U-101: follow me. Hipper, be a darling and take the rest to help see to the defense."

"Where will you be?" asked Köln, expressing the same thought as those assigned to fight.

Eugen offered only a coy look. "If I told you, it would ruin the surprise...

"For both you and for everyone..."

Operation: Magic Spear

Pitched beeps trilled in their ears to preface Andromeda's notification. "Activity spike detected. They know you're coming now!"

"Won't be a problem," Fort Grace responded, her speed mirroring her confidence. "Their defences should be minor as expected. That said, we'll still need enemy elements suppressed."

Alongside her, Tea Time and Reno nodded. "Consider it done, Your Grace."
"We got your back!"

Meanwhile, Helena focused on her radar, trying to pierce the fog of war to see their objectives with picture-clarity. "I count… at least five possible locations! The nearest one is not far from here, at our current bearings."

Kestrel approved with a nod. "Please keep us informed of their locations, Helena. We'll need every help we can to find those silos and stop them before they can bring harm to anyone!"

"And we will," the Delta carrier assured. "We will." Exchanging quick looks, she saw that everyone was prepared. It was no surprise, but it was still an encouraging sight. Sharing a look with Kestrel, the two carriers surged ahead, their planes launched and swiftly ascending. The faint outline of land appeared ahead of them and it was not long until Helena chimed in to confirm their suspicions.

"There! There should be one of the targets there!"

From the eyes up high, Fort Grace spied a dot-like lid of gray. Once spotted, it could no longer hide from her sight. "Target confirmed. Moving in." Concentrating, she angled her Phantoms' noses down as if to dive-bomb; with the target dead in their sights, it looked to be that way. But strapped to the underbelly of the aircraft there lay a small but important weapon.

Putting on the air brakes, the descent gave Fort Grace time to point her planes at the center of the silo hatch. "Target lased! Your show, Kestrel!"

Up high, even higher above where the Phantoms had first ascended, one of Kestrel's Tomcats broke off from the formation. Angling downward, the onboard systems presented the optimal angle of attack with the goal marked in clear sight. Finding it, a slender cylindrical-like bomb was unlatched from the underbelly hardpoint. It began its rapid dive, uncontrolled but following the predicted path exactly as it had been calculated; a set of razor-like fins ensured that prophecy. It fell to earth, laden by weight until it reached hurtling speeds aided by gravity.

Given the distance from which it fell and the speed it fell, the precision bomb smashed onto the designated target before it could even be heard. The piercing tip sliced the concrete slab in two before the entire silo imploded in a catastrophic geyser of fireworks a fraction of a second later.

Even from afar, Reno couldn't help but marvel at the impressive pyrotechnic display. "Woah! What an explosion!"

"Guess you don't need me to confirm destruction of missile silo," Andromeda quipped. "Judging by the explosion, it looks like the missiles had already been loaded. Even the bunker hardened enough to withstand prolonged bombardment from the outside stood no chance."

"Wouldn't have stood a chance against those special bombs either," Reno remarked. "Some kind of a bunker-buster, right?"

"Fin-stabilized deep-penetration bombs," the intelligence vessel answered. "Hefty payload, set to detonate after puncturing a hardened target. Even with the armor-piercing tip, there's nothing more devastating than having it fall at terminal velocity via gravity. With a laser designator and a datalink to relay coordinates, they're perfect for missions like this."

"If the missiles and payload have been loaded, then they must be close to preparing their counterstrike," pondered Fort Grace. "All the more reason for all of them to be taken out ASAP."

Helena's voice chimed in. "The next location is… a mile to the north, by the rocky islet."

"Understood." Affirmatives made, the fleet moved to the next coordinates, with Fort Grace and Kestrel once again taking the lead with their fighters. But right as she was beginning to line up another shot, a shot punched into her side, bashing what optimism there was for a flawless mission.

The carrier swiftly took heed of the attack and began moving to evade. "Just came under attack. Herne must be here..."

"Incoming contacts, from the northwest!" Helena suddenly exclaimed.

"She's right. Bearing 320. Five destroyers, two cruisers," Andromeda added.

Kestrel swung toward their direction but quickly found herself dodging a bright shell instead. In the distance, she could see approaching figures, confirming the warnings. Her eyes made out identifying details before her HUD even recognized them.

"Aegir Fleet destroyers: Fenris, Kolga, Lazuli, Thiassi. The others are Ironblood!"

Fort Grace did not hesitate to give out her orders. "All cruisers but Helena, up front! You know what to do! Kestrel and I will provide what air cover we can while we continue with the mission."

A ring of affirmatives sounded as the fleet moved for battle. Another operation, another engagement; no grand mission would be complete without another skirmish to mark the occasion.

From the opposite side, another allied fleet moved with swiftness. The wing of Rose Kingdom destroyers zipped through the waters while off to the side, leaving the Ironblood detachment to bring up the rear.

Köln lowered her binoculars. "I counted five ships; none more should be concealed behind terrain. A rather small strike team, even if they do posses two carriers."

Admiral Hipper scoffed. "Hah? Is this all they've brought? Unless they're praying for reinforcements they won't last long!"

Herne's voice crackled in their comms, the sniper herself somewhere far behind their formation. "If you think it's that easy, then go get 'em already."

"Don't you go telling me what to do, you bockiges kind!" Hipper snapped back.

A new voice cut into the radio channel, ending the argument. "Two cruisers on intercept course," Kolga reported. "Moving to engage."

"Make sure you go after the carriers too," Herne ordered. "We lose those silos, I'm so going to blame you guys."

Kolga quietly rolled her eyes as she voiced her confirmation. At the head of the destroyer formation, she pushed forward. They barely got any closer before their missile alerts went off, heralded by the birds above whose noses were poised like arrows. The four ships loosened their ranks as missiles began raining, many falling into the empty sea thanks to their serpentine movements. More alerts - more missiles and now this time cannonfire began hurtling towards them. But as the destroyers quickly realized, the enemy fire was far weaker than before; it was all coming from just two ships, after all.

Tea Time thought quickly. "Miss Reno, spread out! Remember that your secondary batteries can be used to shoot down enemy missiles."

"Got it!" Reno acknowledged. But Tea Time had already turned away and began reacting, just as missiles from the other side began to fill their view. She quickly dashed ahead as Reno vanished behind rocky outcrops. White-hot flares belched from the maid's rigging as she instantly altered course, allowing the missiles to fly harmless past her.

Missile reloaded, Tea Time locked onto the nearest destroyer, firing as quickly as she could. She scored one wounding hit as the rest missed from her target's dodging. But with the enemy countercharge and formation interrupted, she accomplished what she had intended. Turning, she now feigned a retreat as they now gave chase, one in particular very energetic to do so.

"Grrrr, get back here! I've chased down cars and messenger nuggets, I can chase you!"

Hot on her trail, Fenris loosened her missiles only for them to be coolly deflected with hardly a glance from the maid. This agitated her, encouraging her to give chase, seeing nothing but her target as Tea Time led her further astray. Fenris saw her make a sharp turn to disappear behind an atoll. She accelerated forward, determined to find her and-

Her face smacked against an open hand. A hard open hand as her speed nearly smooshed her face. "Ow! Hey what is…?"

"Say 'cheese'!"

A blinding flash emanated from the palm, almost as bright as the sun. Fenris's entire vision went white, searing her senses no matter how much she shut her eyes or gripped her own head. The pain lasted only for a short while, and then her mind saw nothing but black.

Standing over Fenris's unconscious form, Reno flexed her gauntlets with satisfaction, deactivating her seldom-used stun function. "That's one member of the rogues gallery down for the count."

Tea Time nodded but couldn't spare any more compliments before she spotted another of Fenris's compatriots rushing out from around the rocks, spotting her. "We'll have to save the pleasantries for later. Here they come!"

Sounds of battle were what accompanied Fort Grace, Kestrel, and Helena as they navigated the maze of islets, their direction guided only by Helena's advice. Besides sound, the occasional glimpse of a ship or missile darted into view, objectively reminding the trio that the war still raged.

"Helena?"

The blue-haired cruiser concentrated, her SG whirring busily. Ascertaining the location of the hidden bunker silos was one thing, but now enemy contacts, friendly contacts, and coordinating them all clouded her sight. To comprehend it all, to see every event unfold before her very eyes, proved to be a significant effort. Helena was no stranger to the advantages her radar offered, but with so much to digest it was taxing her.

As difficult as it was, Helena tried to filter out the noise, focusing only on one thing: where the silos were. "There's… another one, second island to our left if we continue straight."

"Got it." Fort Grace started ahead, eyes alert as they dove closer to the fray. The images of Reno and Kolga barged into view, the two locked in a duel with their ally on the backfoot. Unforeseen missile fire from behind alerted the enemy destroyer to their presence and Kolga wasted no time withdrawing to the relief of the cruiser who flashed them a quick thumbs-up.

The carrier continued, passing by a small island. Her gaze shifted left in anticipation for their search which was why shells from the other side rained on her by surprise. An unfamiliar voice taunted her from the source. "Where do you think you're looking?!"

Fort Grace immediately went into evasion, increasing her speed as more volleys began to rain in her direction. She caught notice of her opponent - recognized as Admiral Hipper - accelerate in the same direction as her, the muzzles of her cannons beginning to take aim. The sudden swoop of jet planes cutting in front of Hipper proved to be a timely intervention as she cursed in annoyance.

"Stupid aircraft! You carriers know how to be a nuisance."

As if wanting to add irony, a missile shot towards her from the side. Hipper just barely emerging unscathed with a grunt as another warplane passed overhead. She glared at the approaching Kestrel and Helena. Another Tomcat dove to pounce on the Ironblood cruiser, missiles loosened. But as before, the impact met a premature end absorbed by Hipper's protective shield.

Hipper's haughty expression indulged in a more smug look. "Ha! Now my turn!"

Raising her rigging, its pair of mechanical jaws flexed in a roar. Heavy guns unleashed that roar, sending shells in all directions. The barrage sent plumes of water shooting like geysers with Fort Grace momentarily disappearing as they consumed her in their intensity.

When the barrage ended, Kestrel carefully raised her head. With pockmarks on her rigging's hull, she too had weathered the attack and thanks to her, so did Helena who emerged unharmed from under the carrier.

Striding confidently, Hipper looked almost down on them. She stopped when her gaze found something she recognized. "It's you again. Kestrel, ja? Proud schiffsmädchen of the Silver Star Federation?"

Kestrel snuck a glance to her fellow cruiser. "Helena, stay back. We can't risk losing you and your radar."

With a reluctant nod, the cruiser complied. Standing up, Kestrel stepped in front of her, diverting attention solely to herself. Admiral Hipper looked with mild amusement. "I've heard only a few things about you. Are you so naive that you would use yourself as her shield?"

Kestrel met her stare with a cool but determined gaze. "If you must ask, then you must not have heard enough."

With a sneer, Hipper readied for a fight. "Hmph. Let's see if your technological prowess can help you fight as well as you talk!"

With a shout, her cannons roared again, only for Hipper to be greeted to the sight of her prey ducking and rolling to the side. With a twitch of her rigging, a missile shot out. Raising her shields, the attack was negated but left Hipper blinded by smoke. Wasting no time, she quickly relocated out of the fumes, her guard raised but surprised to see Kestrel not press the advantage, seemingly waiting for her.

And as it so happened, Hipper had something waiting for her as well.

A volley of shellfire came sprinkling towards the carrier, its source not from the heavy cruiser. From behind Hipper came Köln, taking potshots before popping back behind cover. Likewise, Z23 appeared to make her entrance behind Kestrel, her surprise shots scoring some hits before disappearing out of sight. The carrier moved but not before Hipper threw in one more barrage, churning the water around her.

Yet despite this, Kestrel emerged unaffected by the damage. Another missile launched toward Hipper but this time she no longer bothered to tank it with her defenses, letting it fly past without a glance. Her focus was on the carrier. Hipper's lips curled in disgust.

"You, schiffsmädchen. Are you mocking me?"

Kestrel stopped in her tracks. "Why do you ask?" she inquired almost apologetically.

Hipper snapped. "Are you dense?! Even when it's apparent that your attacks aren't working, you don't even bother adjusting your tactics. Even when you had a briefest of upper hands, you did not exploit them. And more importantly, you call yourself a decorated aircraft carrier? Not once have you even used your fabled "wunder aircraft"! You're not even trying your best, are you?!"

Kestrel's face softened. "... Maybe I'm not. I know we're enemies, but we never chose this. I never liked to fight; I've seen enough suffering to know this. So maybe you're right… Maybe I am holding back.

"... Or maybe because you weren't paying attention."

At this, Hipper froze. She looked frantically before the obvious struck her. Shooting her gaze straight up, she found the answer to her horror. Worse, it wasn't just Kestrel's planes that populated the skies.

"Kestrel!"
"Yes!"

Something slammed to the ground and the immediate area trembled. A fireball erupted at ground zero: a signal that the allied fleet had achieved yet another objective; to the Rose Kingdom and Ironblood, another step to failure. So close to the explosion, the blast enveloped them with hot air that whipped past them. Hipper whirled in anger, only to see Kestrel no longer where she was last time, instead running off with Fort Grace. Although she could not see the Delta carrier's face, Hipper imagined she was grinning from ear to ear at their successful ploy.

Already she was not having a pleasant day. "... VERDAMMT!"

Fort Grace could hardly contain her chuckle. "Smashing work on the third silo! That's another off our list."

"Thank you," Kestrel murmured.

The Delta carrier frowned. "Everything okay? You took some damage there."

The Silver Star Idol shook her head. "It's fine. Let's just get to the next location. Helena?"

Quietly, the light cruiser fell in at the tail end, affirming with eye contacts with the two carriers. "I'm here. The next silo should be one klick at our 2 'o clock."

Fort Grace's face returned to elation. "Then let's get right on it. Only two more to go!"

The sounds of the ongoing battle rumbled around them but a booming ring of cruiser guns rang out with distinction behind them. Tracers were lobbed their way but confidently fell far short of them. An angry yell from Admiral Hipper confirmed that she and the others were in hot pursuit.

Helena gazed at their pursuers with worry. "Should we deal with them?"

"They'd only slow us down, not stop us. We'll deal with them another time."

Fort Grace led the turn, keeping Helena's direction in mind. Their Ironblood assailants were not a serious problem but that didn't mean she could allow them to hinder them freely. With luck, they would be able to break contact with them. As for the next hidden bunker somewhere ahead…

A glint of light was the only warning she got before a shot clipped her by the shoulder.

"Fort Grace!"

The carrier waved urgently to cover; her arm was still good. "Evade!" The group quickly split with Kestrel taking Helena behind a rocky outcrop. Fort Grace ducked to the side, hugging the nearby island as another shot rang out, chipping away a piece of the earth close to her head. She was safe, but behind cover and with her back against an entire island, she had nowhere to go.

Worse still, she spotted the arrival of ships in unmistakable gray and red who likewise spotted her. Fort Grace was more than stuck - now she was trapped.

Just how Herne liked it. Stashing her rifle, she hopped from her perch to relocate. She had Fort Grace pinned, the other would be taken care of in due time. Her attention was on that enemy carrier; against a valuable target, Herne was practically out for blood to claim a kill.

She would make The Ribbon her ultimate prize. And no one will keep her from claiming it.

Guns of the Ironblood all raised in unison, a pair of mechanical shark jaws almost smiling. "Feuer!"

The seas lit up in a flash as the air above became cut apart by shell tracers. The face of the island exploded, but their quarry slipped out from the soot and dust intact. Had Fort Grace not decided to take her chances with the sniper a split-second earlier, she would have been in a world of hurt. But luckily for her, a stinging shot on her back did not arrive.

As she moved, so did the Ironblood ships. Hipper rushed ahead. Like her rigging, she was eager to sink her teeth into her opponent. Cannons thundered but Fort Grace reacted first. To Hipper's surprise, the carrier charged to meet her, the collision between the two coming almost immediately as their rigging clashed hard. Metal crashed hard against metal, the sharp teeth of the Ironblood rigging scraping like nails on chalkboard on the broad flight deck of Fort Grace's.

The heavy cruiser's gritted teeth curled into a satisfying smirk. Willing her contraptions, the dual shark mouths began to flex, their jaws squeezing tighter and their necks becoming taut as they worked in conjunction to try to tear apart Fort Grace's own weapon. Metal creaked and gears grinded in this new deadlock, the teeth biting tighter and tighter in an attempt to dig into the outer hull.

Hipper's gaze taunted her opponent. "How does Ironblood metal taste?"

Though it strained, the Delta carrier's rigging proved sturdy, encouraging the teeth of Ironblood to dig in even more. Fort Grace bore the struggle with a slight grimace on her face before her rigging began to shift in Hipper's grip, threatening to match her strength with her own. The blonde cruiser scowled as she struggled back, but with a determined bellow from the carrier, Hipper found herself hoisted off her feet. Before she knew it, she slammed back down on her back, a grunt slipping between her teeth.

Seeing their comrade beaten, Köln and Z23 quickly snapped up their weapons, but found themselves beset upon by Fort Grace's planes as the thundering roar of their engines tore their immediate attention elsewhere. With them taken care of the carrier turned her attention back to Hipper, only to nearly catch a rudder-heeled boot to her face.

Hipper grunted angrily, her swinging fist meeting empty air as Fort Grace weaved away. Her strikes came fast, one smoothly leading to another, and right as she closed in, a shot whizzed right in front of her nose.

Admiral Hipper sought the source of the shot with furious eyes. "Wer zum teufel-?!"

Off to the side, Herne made her presence known with the working of her rifle's bolt, a spent casing skipping on the water surface. Her rifle aimed towards the carrier, but her snide look was reserved for the Ironblood ship. "Keep your mitts off of her - she's mine!"

A look of incredulity spilled across Hipper's face. "Hah? Did you really waste your time telling me this?! Are you a moron?!"

"Bold words for someone in my firing range!" Herne spat back.

With Hipper's back to her, Fort Grace immediately bolted. A shot rang out, clipping through the folds in her uniform. But her daring earned her painless reward and the frustrated glare of Hipper who once again had to swing her attention back to her.

"After her! Schnell!"

Köln and Z23 were faster on their feet, bolting after the carrier in no time. Bolstered by her small frame, Z23 surged ahead of her peer. Fort Grace's back were squared in her sights as she swung her armature-mounted cannons to bear. Experience saw that her shots came swift and true.

Fort Grace felt the shots strike her from behind. But they did not sting her; rather, it helpfully reminded her that she had pursuers on her six. She accelerated, demonstrating to the surprised destroyer her hidden speed.

"Be mindful of engaging the carrier, Z23. You know what she can do!"

Z23 conceded, reining in her focus. "Understood."

From the corner of her vision, Fort Grace spied the two ships as they chased. She quickly turned her attention to her front whereupon a tingling sense went up her spine. She dug her heels into the water, slowing her down enough for bright orbs to zip past her nose. She knew who it was before the next angry attack came.

"You won't run away from me this time!" Hipper charged, her assault demanding Fort Grace's attention. Shells rained on her, accomplishing little more than dowsing the carrier in churned sprays. She ducked and weaved, surrendering ground to the heavy cruiser who seemed more than happy to take it. Yet the joy of drawing blood continued to elude her.

Herne muttered a curse as she watched through the scope. She watched the fight with great anticipation, her finger glued to the trigger, but the feeling only vexed her. From her perspective, Admiral Hipper was not the only one chasing after The Ribbon; her crosshairs tracked the carrier's every move. But it seemed her target was somehow aware - worse, the presence of the heavy cruiser, so embroiled in her close-quarter assault, served to deny Herne the shot she felt she deserved: the chance to take a bite out of that damned Coalition big-shot.

She quietly cursed. Again, it was directed at her ally.

Then a breakthrough: the axis of engagement shifted away from her; the carrier, in her dodging, had untangled herself from the cruiser's grasp and into Herne's sight.

'There you are!'

*Boom!* An explosion tore her attention apart. She flinched but felt no harm brought to her. Herne frantically whirled for the cause until she felt a sudden lurch down. Yelping in surprise, the destroyer kicked away from she once stood, crumbling into fragments beneath her. Felled from her perch like a bird thrown from its roost, Herne angrily sought the culprit.

She didn't have long until she heard a jet soar above her head, her ears picking up a different intonation. The answer came as a hiss. "Kestrel…!"

The carrier came in open confrontation, her black warbirds and the blue-haired light cruiser by her side. "I won't let you or your country bring harm to anyone!"

Herne swung her rifle around. "You want to be my targets so bad? You're just practice!"

Another crack of a missile. Admiral Hipper grunted in exertion. Her shield continued to hold but cracks were beginning to form - literally.

More missile fire, coming from multiple directions. Anchoring herself, Hipper squeezed what strength she could summon into her shields before receiving the impacts. Although protected, she could still feel them pounding on her. At the rate she had been going, she would have no time to even catch a breather in the assault.

"Get her!... Feuer already!"

Tracers arced from behind the heavy cruiser, their resistance fierce and well-intended as Köln and Z23 rushed to her aid. The destroyer rushed forward, branching away to the side with her eyes on the enemy carrier. An armature by her hip swung forward, clear firing lines secured.

Torpedoes cut through the water, slicing lanes of churned water in their wake. As quiet as these projectiles were in flight, the distinct sounds of their launch betrayed their presence to Fort Grace. CIWS fire cut through the water, a guttural droning roar nullifying Z23's attack with ease. Köln's shells hurtled without resistance but with Phantoms harrying her, the cruiser's aim was ineffectual. She persisted but under the fleeting and ferocious attributes of the jet planes it was not long until a missile slipped past her defenses, finding a spot on her body.

Z23 looked up in shock, shouting for the fallen ship. But the moment's hesitation proved to be the quick-footed ship's undoing as another missile slammed into her side, knocking the wind out of her.

Two losses in such a quick succession. Even for an experienced ship such as herself, the speed stunned Admiral Hipper. Exhausted, the loss of her companions seemed to weigh her down even more. She glared at her foe; it was personal now.

"Why you-!"

A flock of fighters appeared by Fort Grace's side. Hipper jinked to the side as missiles streamed past her. Hastily did she recover her balance but immediately found herself seized by coughing, her vision nothing but white smoke and her throat itched by the scent of exhaust from all the projectiles. Her charge had been undone before it could even begin, reduced to her groping about the thick fumes.

Thinking quickly, Hipper dashed back, her cracked shield brought up to her front. Getting out of the choking smog was the first thing on her agenda; if her instincts are correct then her enemy would-

A brief shadow draped over her. Hipper noticed the clue just in time to see Fort Grace coming down on top of her. Out of reflex, Hipper raised her arms, her shield following suit right before impact.

A sound like shattered glass, of a barrier finally given way. In such a state of disrepair, the shield stood no chance against the combined forces of Fort Grace's weight, the weight of her rigging, and gravity. What came up came down hard.

Fort Grace exhaled in relief, counting the heavy cruiser splayed under her out for the count. Close-by, she heard sounds of another battle, making out familiar voices. Assessing no more threats, she wasted no time heading to other battlefields.

Watching her foe depart from the corner of her blurred vision, all Admiral Hipper could do was utter an exhausted curse. "Stupid..."

A weary but familiar voice greeted her. "This 'Ribbon'... she is certainly proof of the power these schiffsmädchen carry… maybe more. Perhaps we did bit more than we could chew."

Hipper summoned what little of her strength she had left to shoot Köln a dirty look. "Keep your opinions to yourself..."

The spray of upset seawater seemed to follow Herne wherever she went. She stayed on the move, her feet never stopping to rest and neither did her senses. If there was one thing that remained consistent in her frequent dodging, it was her rifle, always raised and busy tracking her opponent's heart.

Likewise, Kestrel and Helena remained on the move as if imitating the destroyer's actions. It was a high-stakes dance of dodging each other's attacks. The sniper rifle's muzzle waved about, seeking a suitable victim no matter the qualities. A shot rang out. In the briefest of lulls, Herne saw her Kestrel remaining on her feet, but was pleased to see a new blemish on her exterior. Like a shark who smelled blood, Herne worked the cycle with a sadistic smirk.

Another round loaded, another hopeful morsel of the enemy's pain. Herne took aim again. Whether it was aimed at Kestrel or Helena she discovered it mattered not; the carrier would make sure no harm came to the cruiser with that damn naivete of hers.

Missile alerts had been ringing in her ears all throughout the fight. But as an annoying reminder it was, it made Herne deaf to another threat that quickly arrived at her flank.

The destroyer grunted in pain at the impacts. Fort Grace's sudden onslaught pushed Herne back, a result helped by the destroyer's evasive maneuvering. Now caught between two powerful carriers, the hunted had turn the tables on the hunter.

Herne ducked and weaved from the storm of missiles and jets, but the intensity left her no room to retaliate - more so when she finally noticed that the weapon in her hand had become nothing more than twisted metal. Her prized instrument now a casualty of war, a tragedy.

"Y-you bitch!"

With no one to turn to, Herne had no choice but to withdraw. She left her fleeting form in her wake for her enemies.

Now reunited, the fleet remembered their mission. "Silo half a kilometer to your left!"

Fort Grace nodded. "Back to work. Kestrel?"

"Yes."

Overhead, the Phantoms and Tomcats ascended, circled, and dove: the reprise of their ritual. After a moment of silence, the eruption of the static fortification provided quite the explosive conclusion to the ceremony.

Fort Grace smiled, weary but optimistic. "Well done. Just one more silo to go!"

Herne spotted the fireworks from afar. The missiles had stopped chasing her to her relief, but the sight of yet another objective falling to the enemy's hand soured her mood most bitter. Elsewhere, the situation was not any better. At this rate, the Delta Coalition's plot would succeed yet again.

She stamped her foot. It was unfair. What was she supposed to do?!

"Problems, I see."

The sniper jumped at the voice, calming once she saw who it was. But it did little to bolster her disposition. "You think?"

"I know," parried Geofon with disdain. "It is clear the defenses have been inadequate. I intend to correct this."

She stepped past the destroyer as if she no longer existed. "Through their intent, the enemy's means are evident: the only means with which to neutralize our strategic assets reside solely in the hands of their carriers. Without them, their attack holds no purpose. Therefore, all attention must be directed on them."

Geofon drew her rapier. The sharp roar of engines filled the skies above.

Kestrel and Fort Grace made their way to another island, tucked away from the battle with its unmarred exterior. The two came to a stop.

"You're there. That island should be it!"

Fort Grace nodded. Wordlessly, the two carriers jumped to work. Their respective birds swirled into formation.

"Target marked. On your go."

Through her planes, Fort Grace held her concentration as she held aim, afraid of making the bombs miss by even the slightest deviation. She carefully managed her plane's airspeed: too fast and it would risk a crash, too slow and it would stall, engines starved of air; both would interrupt the vital process. Personally, she wished for this last objective to go smoothly so they can return home.

So focused was she that she failed to notice unknown planes pounce on her's from the side, cutting past them like blades.

The reaction spread between Fort Grace and Kestrel. Sights of Su-37s swooped through the air, intruding the once-confident air with their arrival. Worse, it became quickly apparent that it was not just the skies where the new challengers had entered.

A familiar figure stepped into view, the IFF cementing what the pair already suspected.

"... Geofon!"

The white carrier lunged forward, the two allied ships leaping back; no further words were required for this greeting. Another lunge from Geofon's rapier, prompting Kestrel and Fort Grace to split up. The stern-faced Kingdom carrier took heed of the maneuver and with a swipe of her sword, Terminators dove upon them both.

Fort Grace grunted from the attacks. Her birds remained aloft and a dogfight in the skies ensued. But amid the furball, she kept one plane in the back of her mind. Praying for discreetness, camouflaged in mayhem, she directed one Phantom to lase the silo bunker. Weaving through the fight it tried to correct its course, its nose not finding the direction of the target until-

A missile struck the plane, rendering it a helpless fireball. An Su-37 passed it by. Fort Grace barely had a moment to scowl until she was beset upon by Geofon. Her sword went into furious work trying to make its mark on the Delta carrier's bosom; slice, swing, lunge, and jab. A desperate missile erupted from her rigging, only for the fencer-like carrier to negate it with a dodge as if having foreseen it.

Kestrel watched the fight with alarm but as she stepped to intervene, jets and ordnance strafed her. Even preoccupied, Geofon's baleful eye watched her.

The Federation carrier leapt back from a missile. Through her planes, Geofon kept a close watch on her, yet not once did she let up against her current foe, seemingly ignoring Kestrel. Her eyes widened with startling conclusion: their enemy knew. Up above, Terminators and Phantoms danced and chased in dizzying circles. It was a tug-of-war struggle in both air and on sea. But so long as the skies were hotly contested, Fort Grace's aircraft would be unable to proceed with their mission.

And without the designators to guide the bombs, their mission was in jeopardy.

"Kestrel…!"

The carrier turned. The duel had ground to halt as Geofon's blade found itself caught between Fort Grace's hands, the tip merely inches away from her chest. But as Geofon pushed, the pause proved only temporary as it was nudged ever closer in her tenuous grasp.

Kestrel's eyes widened with horror. "Fort Grace!"

The carrier glanced back, her eyes gleaming without fear. "Complete the mission… You can do this!"

Kestrel froze, uncertain. Geofon glowered at her with suspicion.

Could she do it? Her planes held the bombs but without someone to guide them, what were her chances?

She looked at her friend. Their gazes met.

Kestrel knew she had to try.

She sprinted off. Geofon's scowl set loose her aircraft upon the carrier. Their claws and talons descended on her, determined to stop Kestrel. Acting quickly, she launched her own raven birds, shooting them off to the sky like bullets. Instantly, the pursuing Terminators changed course to race after the black birds, their wings clutching the precious bunker busters.

The Tomcats ascended higher and higher. Only when they surpassed the clouds did they stop - they were in position. Geofon allowed herself a small smirk as her planes caught up, her prey in their sights.

"I have you now."

Suddenly, missiles lanced past the Terminators, cutting past their noses as blue-skinned planes now chased after them. "... Not unless I have something to say about it!"

Geofon grimaced, finding Fort Grace's smile looking back at her. Though inhumanely cold, a feeling of anger sparked within her, compelling her with new strength in her attempt to skewer the Delta carrier. Fort Grace doggedly held on, her resolve soaring to new heights. Phantoms and Terminators fluttered with zeal, a reflection of their masters.

Kestrel focused. Angling her own birds down, she began to mimic the motions she had done so many times before. But as her planes looked down, the guiding hands of the designated target did not greet her eyes. As she looked down from the heavens, she saw only chaos. Darting shapes and trails of smoke raged like a storm beneath her planes. She strained to make out the furtive silo, a mere dot hidden behind the veil of an intense war.

The noses of the black planes pulled down. Descending through the thicket of dogfight was like descending straight into hell. But of the four planes from Kestrel, only one was sent to make the sacrifice.

One was all Kestrel needed.

The lone black Tomcat accelerated as it dove. Its near-vertical plunge was silent compared to the din of the aerial fight, yet all eyes noticed its significance. Geofon's Terminators moved to pounce it with their talons; Fort Grace's Phantoms guarded it with their lives.

The black bird navigated the furball with expert ease; it rocketed down unafraid of the plunge yet it moved with grace. The hands that sought to harm it found themselves eluded by the hand that wished for its well-being, to survive to finish the mission. To fight so that terrible weapons would not be used to bring harm to many.

The Tomcat looped wide, narrowly dodging a missile. Breaking through the cloud of battle, the objective lay straight ahead of it. Through the plane's eyes, Kestrel saw it clear as day. Time seemed to slow to a crawl, her breath frozen in her lungs, her senses razor-sharp. It drew close, rivaling the breakneck speed her plane flew, getting close enough for her to touch…

Now!

The bomb detached with a click. Quickly, the black jet peeled off, hurtling from its lost weight. Free from its restraints, the ordnance cut through the air with a whistle. Although unguided, it followed the path set by its deliverer.

And with a great impact, it finished what it had started. A fireball spewed from the trembling earth, a geyser of fire shooting high into the sky. The thundering explosion deafened the air battle that once filled the atmosphere. The day fell to silence as debris choked the air as an eulogy.

And from the ashen skies, a lone black Tomcat emerged from it, shaken but proudly airworthy still. Kestrel sighed in relief.

Geofon could only gape at the fallout, at what it signified. With such fire from the last of their hidden silos, the chances of its destruction was-

A sudden jerk. Geofon whipped her head back to Fort Grace only to find her rapier - pieces of her rapier in her hand. Before Geofon could react, a large hunk of aircraft carrier slapped her across the body. She tumbled back with a muted grunt. Once again, it was defeat; and a victory for their enemies.

As Fort Grace exhaled with relief, Helena's report filtered through the radio. "Fort Grace, I'm not detecting any more hidden bunkers… We did it. We got them all!"

The carrier grinned. "That we did! Nice work, Kestrel… Andromeda, all silos have been destroyed. Verify."

"Confirmed, all silos neutralized," the intelligence vessel attested. But by the voice alone, she did not share in the carrier's victory.

Kestrel caught the discrepancy. "Is something wrong?"

"Not sure… Of the five sites, something felt off with the last three. Detonations were confirmed, but there looked like no secondary explosions. It's like the cruise missiles weren't even there in the silos."

Now this intrigued the other carrier. "Could they have been decoys all along?"

"My SG hasn't detected any other targets in our vicinity," Helena cut in.

"And I doubt any secretive launch facility would make half of its stuff fake," added Andromeda. "There's something we're missing here..."

"Looking for something?"

All eyes - Geofon's included - turned in surprise at the sound of the voice. Atop a rocky outcrop overlooking them all slouched Prinz Eugen. Whether or not she had borne witness to the allies' victory could not be certain as a smile curled on her lips.

The Rose Kingdom carrier frowned at her. "... Where have you been all along?"

"Just… under your radar. Given the surprised looks, I must have fooled everyone," Eugen teased. "Quite the performance you put up. Thankfully I was able to finish what I had planned."

"Plan? Plan what?" Fort Grace demanded.

Prinz Eugen glanced toward an island far behind her. Eyes fell upon the overgrown rocky cliff, only for the curtain of green to fall with a slump. Under the deceiving veil, three sleek boats were revealed. And to the shock of everyone, so too were their cargo: the three cruise missiles nestled on top.

"... A way to salvage this Rose Kingdom debacle," Eugen finished. And with that, the boats sputtered to life, motoring off from their moors.

"Fort Grace, Kestrel! Based on their heading, those boats are headed straight east, out in the open sea! And just ten kilometers there is-"

With the revelation coming to picture, Kestrel gasped. "... One of our cities!"

Without hesitation, the two carriers shot off after the boats. They disappeared from view behind the rocks, forcing the duo to slip through the island chains they had once fought around. Passing by familiar but smoke-filled sights, they brushed past Tea Time and Reno. Victorious but exhausted, the suddenly arrival of the carriers caught them off-guard.

"Your Grace! What is going on?"

"Their cruise missiles are on some sort of speedboats, headed east! They must be stopped!"

As the carriers sped off, Reno jumped after them, shaking off her fatigue and battle damage. Tea Time followed suit, chasing the carriers as much as they chased the boats. All eyes were glued to the runaways as they sputtered off leaving tails of ripped water in their wake. Ships and planes zipped to meet them on a adrenaline-fueled intercept course.

Reno's wide eyes followed their movements with all-too familiar recognition. "T-those are Crimson Axis fireships! First pioneered by the Sakura Empire for the express purpose of ramming ships with all those bombs they hold, they got more dangerous once Ironblood got their hands on them and made their own improv-"

Suddenly, as the fleet began to catch up, they were greeted to the sight of igniting flares on the afts of each fireship. Jets of hot exhaust tickled them as the boats accelerated. In a roaring flash, the allied armada watched as the boats sped away beyond their grasp.

Reno gawked with startlement. "T-that's a new upgrade..."

But if there was anyone else who shared her surprise, she was quickly alone as Kestrel and Fort Grace took off in renewed pursuit. The cruisers imitated their intent but soon they found themselves unable to imitate the zeal at which the carriers sailed. Although of a heavier class than them, the two aircraft carriers somehow defied logic with their swiftness that rivaled the jet-powered planes that throttled next to them.

If either of the cruisers had said something, of startled awe or a cautionary warning, then Kestrel was afraid it didn't reach her ears. Her attention was welded shut to the three burning dots in front of her, the three bomb boats that also cut over the waves at full afterburners.

Fort Grace likewise kept her eyes to the three boats, hand anchoring her beret on her head as she awaited her chance with impatience. What Phantoms she had left screamed ahead of her. They did not dare hesitate for even a split second once a missile lock was secured on the closest fireboat.

Jet aircraft and rocket-propelled speedboats may be blistering fast, but homing missiles were always faster. A burning husk of one such boat attested to the fact. Its speed cut dead like its life, the twisted remains of a fireboat zoomed past the two carriers. Neither looked past; it only mattered that the payload would be destined for the depths rather than a city.

One boat down. Kestrel focused, squeezing what more speed she could from her rigging. Its internal reactors were potent, capable of many things; she silently prayed to call forth that power to catch the target.

The second boat crept into view. The afterburn from its booster was glaring bright in her eyes. But amid the whipping wind, she began to feel its hearth. She was getting close!

She quickly fired her missiles. Another boat down. Just one left, the final payload roosting in its nest.

Encouraged, both ships closed in, their final prey looking no different from the others. Slowly but surely did their sights catch up to their target until the fireship suddenly swerved.

Both carriers perked up in surprise. They turned to follow after, only for the target to swerve the other way. It could not quite shake them off its tail but it was throwing off their aim. In its evasion, Kestrel could see no pilot - unmanned like a drone? But in its movements, she could tell that it was no uncaring automaton.

U-101 concentrated, clutching the control stick in her hand as steady as she could. Her perception of the outside world was condensed into the tight confines of a monitor display, hastily assembled like everything else. Despite the safe and lax circumstances she found herself in, far from the fray, she instead found the situation rather stressful.

U-73 watched with anxiety. "Turn the other way, quick!"

"Ah… Ahhh! Okay!... Nrgh! I don't know about you but this is harder than it looks…!"

Glancing at the next screen which depicted a confined view of the world behind the fireship, U-556 jumped in surprise. "Look, look! They're shooting!"

U-73 scrambled for a switch. "Let's hope this works!"

Fort Grace watched with incredulity at the still running fireship. "... C-countermeasures?! Who equips a bomb with flares?!"

Kestrel kept her cool, determined to stop the bomb at all costs. "It can't keep evading forever. If we keep trying, we'll get it eventually!"

Her rudders straining, Kestrel pushed herself just a bit more, just a bit faster. Her birds fell by her side, their frames just shy of their absolute constraints. Air slammed hard against her but she pushed past it just as hard - she had to persevere.

Missiles, more missiles. The fireboat wiggled serpentine, barely dodging the shots.

More attempts. The boat's movements intensified like the attacks, its turns exaggerating. Another missile. The boat's sides became alight with flares.

Another missile. Another near miss as the boat veered hard. It dumped more flares, desperate to stave them off.

Then a missile slipped in, sneaking past the fizzling flares and striking near the boat. It rocked to its side, the rudders clear from the water. An important detail that the two capitalized on.

"Missile away!" In unison, a combined strike was born. In the brief window of the boat's loss of control, a missile struck its bow, flipping it belly up. Another missile struck the hull, incinerating it to pieces. And the third missile…

A great flash enveloped the area. It blinded Reno, Helena, and Tea Time from afar before they felt it, upset gusts billowing past them. A deafening second later, silence. They ran towards it with fearful expressions. The seconds dragged like hours as they hurried towards the site. Tension drew long, but as they got close, anxiety melted into surprise. And when they saw the two carriers waving to them, the surprise gave way to euphoria.

"Your Grace!"
"Kestrel!"

The carriers reunited with their comrades. Weary and ragged from top to bottom, another thing they all shared with one another were the faces of joy.

"What an explosion! I think I said that before but wow!" Reno exclaimed. "That was a super-cool finish!"

Fort Grace allowed herself a chuckle from the compliment. "... Well that takes care of that. All silos… and cruise missiles taken care of. Another mission accomplished!"

"Yes but the enemy withdrew while we were chasing those boats," Tea Time reported. "No doubt that the Rose Kingdom and their allies will return for our next battle."

Fort Grace nodded. The battle was won but the war was not yet over. But for now… they had time to celebrate what victories they had.

And for future victories to come after.

Geofon said not a word after arriving back at the docks. Likewise, neither did Herne and the other destroyers.

It wasn't that she was in no mood to inform her queen of their recent failure yet again. Rather, such reports would be redundant. She would find out, one way or another.

It was inevitable, like many things.

The carrier speedily marched off, her first appointment with the port's armory already made. She had suffered only minor injuries but the same could not be said for her equipment. War demanded weapons and hers would take priority; medical checkups and a change of clothes would always wait.

"Geofon!"

The voice of a subordinate - Beowulf π's. The carrier stopped, turning to expect the submarine for what she had to say - from her, it must be important. And as she laid her eyes on her, Geofon was immediately drawn to a curious large container in their hands.

It was important, but not for the reasons she had anticipated.

Beowulf π and her ever-present partner caught up, breathless. Her attention fixed to the odd package, Geofon leapt straight to the topic. "What is this?"

"We're not sure. As we were busy with our project, Beowulf v stumbled on this on our doorstep. Someone must have left it behind. We took it inside and we-"

Already disinterest spilled across Geofon's face. "If it's not relevant to your project, dispose of it."

"But it's for you, nu!"

The carrier paused. Her gaze turned attentive as it now locked on the two submarines. The silent stare demanded answers and both Beowulves were quick to provide them.

"When we took it in, we discovered a handwritten note on it."

Beowulf v procured the item and Geofon immediately snatched it. A postcard-sized scrap in her hands, her eyes finding curled letters of ink.

A final gift for those seeking power. Where once having dreamt of it they will find they have been in want. But to purchase such desire, the carrier whom you refer to as "Geofon" should pay its price. Become one with what I have offered - none will be disappointed.

From, an erstwhile associate

An erstwhile associate. The carrier frowned, the answer already coming to her. Were she and those things still involved even after their abrupt departure? Even after all this time - the Key, Stonehenge - they had yet another card up their sleeve? What even were her aims this time?

More importantly, what even was this?

Beowulf π seemingly read her mind. "We took painstaking measures to ensure that the mystery package was safe. X-rays and radiological spectrums showed up clean. We took a peek inside but..."

The container was laid out before the carrier. At Geofon's wordless beckoning, the Beowulves disengaged the locks with a heavy pop. Hands on the lid, they lifted it open. Nothing emerged from the cracks beneath the lid but once it flung open, Geofon flinched at the light. Recovering, she was beheld a peculiarity: bright as a star, but lacking its shine; without rays of light, it burned with uncanny warmth as on its surface embers and sparks traced and danced in regimented patterns like a silicon wafer.

Inside was another wisdom cube. But it was unlike anything the three were familiar with.

The questions that were raised in Geofon's head rang once again. But upon remembering who it was that gifted them - gifted her - this, a new one was raised.

What weapon was this to be? And why for her?

The crisscrossing lights continued to dance, their silence taunting her.