Location: Delta Coalition GHQ, North Point

A full moon.

Fort Grace noted the white orb high in the sky as she gazed past the window. It hung in the air, its deathly-white glow ironically casting light in the darkness. The ocean waves outside their port were gentle, offering the carrier dancing moonlight for her view of the sea.

But that was not what she was looking for at this time of day.

"Has she not arrived yet?"

Fort Grace shook her head. "Not yet. Knowing her, she'll arrive eventually and claim she was still on time." She paused to turn behind her. "... Are you sure you want to be up and about already?"

Tea Time simply smiled. "Of course, Your Grace. Do not doubt a maid's resilience or their persistence. Their duties is their sole duty after all." ("Then again, I've accrued quite a backlog of work I missed while recuperating..." she quietly muttered.)

The carrier smiled to herself, though kept her concerns in the back of her mind. As she turned back towards the window, she saw it. Down below, by the port entrance, revealed only thanks to the hint of moonlight.

But Fort Grace was not alarmed. This was what she was expecting.

"By jove, she's arrived."

By the time Fort Grace and Tea Time went downstairs to the base entrance, they already found it occupied.

"... An rather underwhelming welcoming party," spoke a woman dressed in a thick long overcoat. Its slight pinkish hue did little to detract from the strictness that the coat's material commanded. With maroon gloves that accentuated her slender fingers, she hastily dusted off her coat almost habitually as there was no outwardly blemish the two could spot.

Fort Grace put on a customary smile to greet the guest. "My apologies. We've been caught up in our own affairs so we don't have many on active-duty."

Turning to face them, the woman revealed her lavish features: a butterfly-patterned tiara accompanying her pearl-blonde hair tied into a bun and earrings also in the mold of a butterfly. The overcoat, now revealed to possess a double-breasted design, and tall heeled boots casted this woman the image of royalty - respect both earned and to be demanded.

Although her eyes hid behind opaque lens, both Fort Grace and Tea Time could tell they were being studied - and judged.

"Hmph. Well that would explain why this base feels desolate. It was simply lacking in decor and taste."

Delta Coalition Aircraft Carrier
ARQUETTE

The maid greeted her with a bow. "Welcome back, Miss Arquette."

Arquette waved her off as she entered. "Yes, yes, I have returned as per the request. Are my accommodations prepared? Distant expeditions are so bereft of creature comforts. I could certainly do with a well-made bed: either queen-sized or double sheets, anything but a destitute bunk. Oh and a hot bath. Good heavens I could certainly use one."

A bead of sweat crept down the maid's features as she tried to keep composure. "Um… about all of those..."

Scuffling sounds were heard coming from the entrance before the source bursted through the opening. Behind Arquette, a pair of petite girls tumbled into the base atrium, instantly filling the air with loud chatter.

"Yay, first!"
"No I was first! You're like on top of me!"
"Yeah, I'm on top! That's why I'm first!"
"OMG, shut up!"

Drawn to the peculiar scene, Fort Grace and Tea Time were greeted to the sight of two girls - both with shoulder-length blond hair tied with a hairband and matching one-pieces. Like their youthful - and feisty - energy, some of their golden strands jutted out, bursting from beneath their hairbands.

But as much as Fort Grace and Tea Time recognized them, the two always found it confusing to tell them apart as they tussled and rolled.

Despite the rough-housing that enveloped behind her, Arquette paid it little mind. "... And yes, I have brought them along. Fensalir, Folkvangr, do please control yourselves now that we're here."

Reluctantly, the pair disentangled from each other where they stood not in attention but with disregard before the officer-carrier and the maid.

"Ugh. Do we like, have to take orders from a bossy ship now? Ugh, puh-leeze," spoke the first. Her black hairband was noted by Fort Grace.

Delta Coalition Submarine
FENSALIR

Beside her, her twin playfully prodded her with her elbow. Unlike her sister, she bore a mischievous grin. And unlike her twin, she wore a white hairband.

"Yeah, like, I know right? That's so lame."

Delta Coalition Submarine
FOLKVANGR

The Coalition carrier spared a light cough. "Anyways, good to see you all safe and sound. It's already late night and as I'm sure you've traveled for quite some time -"

The two submarines began making their moves before Fort Grace could finish, their expressions alight with devious intent. "Hey, hey! Let's check out what's in this dump. Maybe this place will like have actual conveniences."

"Right with you, sis, like two peas in a pod!" Folkvangr replied. "Hey, let's try the kitchen! I'm like, starving here! I want some oxycola!"

The pair giggled as they began their romp, slipping past the carrier and the cruiser.

"Hey, wait!"

A single jeer from the twins answered them but a pair of quick hands snatched them before their merry escapade developed.

Arquette lifted the submarines before her, their childlike frame no match for her disciplinary reaction. "Not so fast, I'm afraid. There may be time for such tomfoolery but this... is. Not. It."

Although her intonation was remarkably less strict than was expected, Fensalir and Folkvangr paled before what was presumed to be Arquette's fierce gaze beneath her shades. Wordlessly, they conceded before the carrier set them down.

Sighs of relief were exhaled but an expectant look remained on Arquette's expression. "... Well? What of our accommodations?"

"Right. Well… right this way," said Fort Grace as she stepped forth to take the lead. "Along the way, I will like to brief you on the current situation and what has transpired thus far -"

Arquette brushed past her. "No thank you. That can wait tomorrow morning. And while you're showing me the way, I would appreciate it if the twins were attended to."

And with that, Arquette began to walk off down the hall, dragging Fort Grace behind her. But before she could disappear down the hall, the carrier spared one glance at the maid-ship as she stood alone with the two submarines.

"... You have my condolences, Tea Time," the carrier sheepishly said before disappearing.

Tea Time exchanged looks with the submarines beside her. Sensing weakness, wide grins appeared on both Fensalir and Folkvangr.

'Perhaps I should consider returning to the infirmary after this...' the maid sighed.

The next morning…

"... Based on my findings, this is where the Rose Kingdom will make their staging ground."

"At Comberth Harbor?" asked Fort Grace. "That far east?"

"It seems Tanager is well intent on our destruction, and quite confident too," Buzzard commented as she studied the map. "By location alone, it's not a bad place for such a staging ground; close enough for this city and all nearby waters to be within their operational range. Nowhere to run and nowhere to hide."

Standing apart from the others in the meeting, Arquette looked at the intelligence vessel skeptically. "And how can we be certain that is where the Aegir Fleet intends to operate from?"

Without skipping a beat, Andromeda brought up another layer of displays, turning the map of the continent into a web of lights and symbols. "Ever since we encountered Tanager in the field of battle, I've been monitoring signals traffic all over the continent. While there's too many going around to decipher every single one of them, their direction and frequency tell me everything I need to know at a glance."

Andromeda pointed towards the spot on the map dominated by a dense concentration of those lines, the heart of the web. At its center, the name "Comberth Harbor" was caught.

"If Tanager's mustering her ships to conduct operations, then there's certainly communication going back and forth to make that happen. And she wouldn't just be calling in ships - she'll need to assemble an entire logistics division to support the fleet and her plans. Intelligence reports from Sheffield and Edinburgh have already confirmed the movement of personnel and material headed east. With all those facts on hand, there can only be one conclusion..."

"That the Aegir Fleet will indeed be stationed at Comberth Harbor," Fort Grace finished. "... The whole entire fleet."

Contemplative silence followed, all thoughts processing what was said.

"The Invincible Fleet" was indeed on the move, and their master had chosen an ambitious and deadly spot. With the base at their proverbial doorstep, their great enemy, if allowed to amass, would be poised like a knife aimed at their throats. A mortal blow they cannot ignore nor recover from.

And yet, in the cynical news there was a grain of hope.

Fort Grace perked up, making sure all eyes were upon her. "... However, this arrangement does leave the Aegir Fleet with a critical weakness. One that we will exploit to the best of our abilities..."

"... And do tell me why exactly I must cooperate with you?"

"Hey, in times like this you just gotta dance in whatever ballroom you got."

Slowly, Buzzard felt her sanity recede as she overheard the bickering.

"... Why did I ever volunteer to oversee this op with you two?" she grumbled.

Behind her, following in her wake but not her leadership was White Valley and Arquette. The moment the latter set eyes on the former she should have suspected something was off. Even she deduced something was awry from the way Fort Grace acted, reminding them of their collective goal of retaking their stolen homelands. The op called for a third ship to oversee it but Buzzard had never expected this…

"Don't give me that nonsense!" Arquette snapped. "You really consider yourself on par with me?"

"Heh. That will always be decided on the battlefield," White Valley replied. "Royalties ain't got much value on the mud and dirt of a battleground"

"Besides, we don't get to decide who to fight or who we fight with. We're partners now, yeah?"

"Don't bring up that nonsense like we're acquaintances!" Arquette snapped. "Much less with an uncultured dog such as yourself."

Buzzard kept an eye on the newcomer (relatively speaking given the two's familiarity). Arquette's appearance had not deviated but was now accompanied by pieces of her rigging that surrounded her like an air of class as a pair flight decks stuck out from her back at high angles. Buzzard couldn't help but be reminded of something as she looked.

Like a fairy?... No, it looked more like a butterfly.

White Valley put on an assuring smile. "Aw c'mon Arquette. Whatever did I do to piss you off?"

"First, I did not permit you to use my name in such jest," the noblewoman scorned. "Second, have you completely forgotten? It was only years ago but I have not."

"Er, you're gonna have to jog my memory here."

Arquette sighed. "Does the name 'Skully Islands' mean anything to you?"

White Valley's face slowly dawned in realization. "Ohhh, that place. Right."

"Now you remember?"

"Yep. I did the job, kicked ass, and got paid. Clocked in, clocked out."

A frustrated sigh was heard. "Forget it. I should've known you'd be a real swine through and through. Tell me oh so-called 'Scarface', do you still wear that impudent title with pride?"

"Only to my lady friends," the mercenary joked.

A transmission squawked as Andromeda's filtered voice was injected. "Uh… noted. Also, just as a heads-up you do realize I'm listening to everything you say, right?"

"Unfortunately," Buzzard dryly muttered. But she was never more thankful than ever to hear a sudden interlude.

"Anyways, you should all be nearing the contact point," the intelligence vessel reported. "They should be arriving as expected so you know the drill."

Buzzard quickly adjusted her glasses. It was showtime. "Hornets ready for take-off!"

"Ready to rock-n-roll!"

Arquette sighed but relented. "... I am prepared. Let's get this over with. I'd like to be back in time for tea."

With a nod, Buzzard brought her rigging up for battle.

"All ships, commence Operation Hunting Hawk! Intercept and destroy all enemy cargo ships before they can reach Comberth! Let's get through stage one of starving out the Aegir Fleet!"

Location: Comberth Harbor

She waited.

A furtive figure lay crouched in a dim corner, poised like a spring. Empty plaster walls lining the base interior complemented only by faded cracks and rough paint, a reflection of the base's incomplete status. Its new occupants were busy appropriating it for themselves - and for their purpose.

Likewise, she was pursuing her own.

The base was not yet ready, but it was still rife with opportunities.

The figure's fluffy ear-like tufts atop her messy brown hair quivered in excitement; her bright beady eyes shone with anticipation against her black domino mask. Her single attire of a black shirt, though loose enough to drape down to her legs, could barely contain her enthusiasm as she waited.

Rose Kingdom Destroyer
THIASSI

"Heh heh heh..."

In her black hands lay the centerpiece to her scheme; it sat plump and rested on her scheming gloved fingers.

Her eyes were glued to the door. Any second now…

The handle shook once.

The trap was sprung the instant the door swung open.

*Splash!*

The surprised squeal of her victim marked yet another successful prank.

"Gotcha!" Thiassi giggled much to the other's chagrin.

"Gya!" Standing in the doorway, soaked head to toe in harmless water and balloon fragments, a fellow destroyer gawked. Her curious dress of a cape fashioned from a light gray jacket, a shredded skirt of a similar shade, and wrapping around her open chest darkened from the spilled fluid. It dripped down to her mismatched stockings as her mismatched eyes of gold and violet looked aghast as she scrambled for her headband of vague inscriptions hidden among her silver-white bangs.

Rose Kingdom Destroyer
TAISCH

"GYAA! Not the Litanies of the Demon Lord!" she screeched, her single curved strand trembling as she did. "How could such tragedy slip past my vigilance?!"

Chitter-like laughter drew Taisch's eyes - and her ire - to the perpetrator. "You! You shall be inflamed by the Hound of the 9th Hell for such transgression! The Destroyer screams for your name!"

Thiassi leapt up, feigning abject terror. "Oh no, it'll haunt me for eternity! Aaaagh~~!"

She scurried away, prompting Taisch to give furious chase. "Cease and desist your cowardly fleeing! Come hither so that you may be blessed with what dignity you can scrape as I march you through the gates of Hell!"

The two hurtled down the hall, hooting and yelling. Hearing the commotion, a figure poked around the corner.

"Hey! What's going on here -"

"Yah! Water balloon attack!"

A surprised yelp and the aftermath of yet another attack revealed Thiassi's next victim as Herne. The revelation made the prankish destroyer cackle even harder.

"Oh for-! Thisassi, get your butt over here right now or I'll have to shove a shell up yours for screwing with me!"

Now the chase was on. Thiassi scampered from the wrathful banshees. The stakes she raised exceeded the her expectations and she savored every moment of the excitement.

Thiassi ran for her life but not out of fear. Sooner or later her pursuers would catch up and then she would be at their mercy. But like many times before, getting caught was also part of the fun.

Glancing ahead, Thiassi spotted a set of double doors. They opened with a shudder and instantly Thiassi seized this to be her final opportunity. Right as a mass tackled her to the ground, her last remaining water balloon slipped from her fingers and sailed towards her victim number three.

Then Thiassi's blood ran cold.

Two tall figures stood in the doorway. All the destroyers - Thiassi especially - instantly recognized the two with wide eyes and bated breath.

Before them, Tanager and Geofon seemingly towered over them. The loose water bomb lay seized midair, its tubby profile teetering in the battleship's grip. As she turned it around to study its unexpected appearance her eyes fell upon the Thiassi, Taisch, and Herne piled together on the floor. Recognizing the racoon-like face of Thiassi, Tanager put on a blithe smile.

"I take it you had fun, Thiassi? Another mischief of yours?"

With her jaws to the floor, Thiassi could only blabber incoherently. Her gaze darted between Tanager's amused and Geofon's disapproving glare.

'I am so dead! I nearly took the risk with those two…!'

Then the last balloon fell, splattering Thiassi with a simple drop. She squawked - now a victim of her own trick. Tanager chuckled lightly to herself at the irony but her smile faded as quickly as it appeared.

"Nevertheless, we have a situation. It appears that the Delta Coalition fools are insistent on opposing us and have struck our drone fleet north of here."

In a flash, Herne jumped to attention. "Count me in! Just let me grab my -"

A raised hand from her queen silenced her. "Ah, but as eager as you are, I have already decided who would lead today's excursion," Tanager interposed, her gracious tone comforting the sniper. "... Geofon, pronounce the ships that you will choose for to sally forth and stamp out the nuisance."

The carrier's cold eyes spied upon Herne before turning towards Thiassi and Taisch. The mere gaze sent a chill through their spines before Geofon even opened her mouth.

"Thiassi. Taisch. You will follow me." Geofon's sharp stare left no room for objection as she swiftly turned to leave. Wordlessly, the destroyers followed, diligently keeping pace.

Left behind, Herne watched with a huff. "Geez, what's the big deal? I would've carried the mission all by myself!"

Tanager chuckled. "I have little doubt that you would. But one should not ignore opportunities of respite, as reward for their hard work. Let them have their fill for battle for this occasion, hm?"

Herne relented with a conceded shrug. "Alright, I'll let 'em have some fun. Hey, how about another marksmanship competition between us, best two out of three?"

"Heh. I shall gladly take up your offer. I've been wondering when you were intending to invite me to your next game," Tanager purred. "But take heart, my little destroyer. We will all have a part to play on this grand stage, and you shall return to perform your role in due time."

Tanager chuckled again.

"... No matter what happens, their defeat - their annihilation - has already been decided."

Buzzard smiled inside; everything was going smoothly. Going according to plan.

Dark clouds hung in the sky but the only ordnance precipitated. Where black smoke plumed upward, a collection of jets rained. They plummeted but not in defeat.

Like hawks, they dove upon the now-ragged armada. Anti-air fire lit the sky but did little to deter the carriers' attack. And like birds of prey, the autonomous ships were torn apart, their guns forever silenced and massive hulks to forever slumber.

But as cathartic as it was to rain hell on the Siren ships, they were not the main prize that the three carriers were after.

"AA guns silenced! You got your opening!"

A trio of jets zipped past Buzzard, racing towards the convoy of slab-like barges. Where there would be cannons, the decks were instead filled with their absence. Defenseless, their presence would be questionable.

However, the carriers already knew the answer. When a volley of missiles struck the hulls, the barges instantly combusted. From bow to aft they were consumed by flames, providing the allied fleet the answer as it literally went up in flames.

The barges were supply vessels, and their fat hulls were laden with the familiar scent of viscous oil. Oil that would have fed the Aegir Fleet instead now burned up in acrid smog.

Like everything in the world, a ship's rigging required a source of fuel to power it, lest it exist as an inert hunk of metal. What ammunition was to weapons and food to the soldiers who wielded them, oil was the precious resource for riggings. When it was discovered that the Rose Kingdom intended to amass their ships into a massive fleet, the prospect of openly beating them was improbable. But in order for such powerful fleet to operate as a combined force, a great deal of supplies was not just recommended - it was nonnegotiable.

As powerful as the Aegir Fleet and Tanager may be, they could not escape this fact. And the Delta Coalition's mission was to remind their foes of this.

By now, the seas rang with the cannonfire's silence and the skies were no longer etched in tracer fire: all enemy resistance has fallen. The oceans were murky with the blood of their desired prey, but the deed was far from over.

Buzzard heard muttering behind her. Turning, she saw that it was Arquette. "Ugh. As thankful as I am to stand atop the surface, the fuel-stained water touching me is absolutely revolting. Do you have any idea what it takes to wash this off? Especially this putrid scent..."

White Valley suddenly appeared behind her. "Hey Arquette! Splash-fight?"

"Don't you dare!" The noblewoman jumped away in agitation. Above, delta-shaped aircraft gathered by her side, circling around her like a thorny shield. A flight of purple Rafale Ms in speckled white, Arquette's own butterflies, threatened White Valley as she glared at her.

Buzzard sighed but was glad no overt move was made. She glanced down, her view met by the sight of black water. The once blue tint now drowned in thick black. Gone were the smell of salt in the wind, only the stench of oil remained, never to be used but forever remaining to mar the ocean's beauty.

A price to pay for victory, even if it was necessary.

Buzzard shook her head and went back to the task at hand. 'I was starting to sound like Kestrel there...'

"Great work!" Andromeda called. "But don't rest easy just yet, we got a few stragglers left! Every bit of oil sent to the bottom is every bit they can't use."

True to her word, the carriers spied the silhouettes of the lumbering tanker ships as they crawled away. It was almost laughable to see such ships try to make their escape, shielded only by scant hope and luck.

In the ocean gale, the Rafales shot towards them. "I shall handle this and earn a victory for myself in this mission."

"Not so fast!" A squadron of White Valley's jets raced after them, threatening to overtake them in an excited pursuit. "Not unless I get 'em first!"

"Sod off, you embarrassing excuse of a respectable carrier! I will not allow you to upstage me again!"

As Arquette vented her anger against White Valley, both of their respective planes began teetering in their flight patterns, flying no differently from drunken ducks.

Buzzard sighed. Again.

"Warning! Bogeys inbound… three! Bearing 175!"

All attention was brought back. Buzzard squinted towards the indicated horizon, trying to make out the approaching figures. As much as the news dreaded her, she was not surprised by it. "Any idea who they might be?"

Andromeda scrutinized the data from her end, then her eyes lit up at the new report. "Aircraft launch detected. It's an aircraft carrier!"

Behind her shades, Arquette's eyes narrowed. "It's her..."

"Yeah..." White Valley nodded. Suddenly, a trio of shapes darted from the smoke clouds, scaring them with a salvo of missiles. The three carriers immediately scattered before the ordnance could strike them, turning the water they stood on into a literal sea of fire. Then, as quickly as they came, the planes disappeared.

Buzzard's eyes darted for their attacker's whereabouts but to no avail. The air suffocated from the fires that surrounded them. She kept her attention orientated towards the reported direction of the enemy and after a tense second, she saw them.

"I see them! Destroyers Taisch and Thiassi with aircraft carrier Geofon!" Buzzard called, reading from her IFF displays. "The carrier's moving to intercept! All ships, fighting withdraw!"

Wasting no time, Buzzard sent her Hornets into the air. Although she had detected her, the enemy carrier was still some distance away. But no distance can protect each other for long in the reign of modern combat.

Noses pointed downward, Buzzard aimed her planes directly at her opponent. Through the blinding blackness of a polluted sky, her Hornets flew undercover. Through their eyes, the world disappeared as Buzzard relied on displayed instruments to guide her. Eyes closely observing her planes' altitude, her planes continued their dive.

Less than a klick from the ground… close to half a klick-

Bright sunlight. Her planes slipped from the smokey visage and before them, close enough to touch, was her target: Geofon.

Locked on.

Buzzard didn't have time to verbalize her attack a fraction of a split-second later. Missiles were loosed, hissing through the air towards the Kingdom carrier. The chance anyone could have of evading such a sudden attack was-

A loud splash, but the explosions failed to scathe her intended foe. The enemy carrier dashed ahead like nothing happened to Buzzard's surprise. Did she really slip past all those missiles?

The Hornets and Geofon zipped past each other, the carrier bidding no return glance or retaliation. Swiftly, Buzzard brought her planes back around. Her target remained in sight as she gave chase.

She had the enemy in her sights. But as her planes pursued, a missile smashed into one of her Hornets while another missing by a hair. Thwarted from her attempt, Buzzard immediately pulled them out, but not before scanning for the missile's culprit.

Lagging behind their carrier, sailed the two destroyers whom she recognized as Taisch and Thiassi. Near them lay the last of the tankers, standing between it and the ruined seas where their enemies resided. Their weapons, typical of destroyers in their arrangement (aside from the Taisch's whose rigging was adorned with peculiar symbols and runes), were raised and ready. But only the carrier herself charged into battle.

A curious deployment, but not worth the time mulling over.

"Hang back you guys!" buzzed White Valley's voice over the comms. "I'll take her! The rest of you peel out!"

The red-haired carrier blazed ahead, ignoring the inferno around her. Directly ahead of her, she could see the characteristic stern outfit of their carrier, sterile as always. Her direction had changed none: straight towards her.

White Valley's grin met Geofon's grimace.

The Coalition carrier moved first. A wing of her Su-35s swooped in low from behind her, fangs bared as they shot towards Geofon like bullets. Missiles launched, hissing through the air to trap their prey in a spiraling motion.

Geofon finally broke stance, swerving with a leap that launched her high above White Valley. She kept her eyes on her, witnessing the tight-dressed ship twist and roll overhead (and noting what she assumed was a calculated denial of an upskirt shot). But before Geofon could land, White Valley saw a familiar posture:

Carrier flight deck strapped to her left hip, a gloved hand gripped the handle jutted out. Then, with one swift motion a brilliant shine gleamed out; a bright twinkle like a pinprick of a sun. White Valley recognized the sight all too well.

In Geofon's hands there now was a silver rapier, unsheathed from her rigging. From her swing, a new breed of planes sprung forth, similar to the ones White Valley wielded but with colors not her own: metal-gray birds with tips of gold on their wings and fins that quietly spoke of her allegiance and lethality.

The rapier was aimed straight for her. Her planes obeyed.

New bogeys - Geofon's planes were in the air, the very same ones that tried to strike them before. Arquette and Buzzard tracked their movements through the smoke as they danced and pounced with White Valley's.

Buzzard considered her options. "Arquette, with me. We need to provide cover for White Valley so we can make our withdraw."

She was met with an offended look from her ally, but Arquette kept it to herself as the pair sailed towards the fighting. The carriers prepared for a sortie once more, a small but tight formation of Hornets and Rafales struggling to pierce through the veil.

Finally, a breakthrough: an open clearing in which all was beheld. The white and purple of White Valley's Flankers were instantly recognized, but not their pursuers that hunted them. Their fundamental silhouettes were strikingly similar, but neither Arquette nor Buzzard were fooled.

Metal-gray birds, with gold tips on their wings and fins as their only display of allegiance; their prominent appearance already an unmistakable and unforgettable sight.

"Su-37s… 'Terminators'!" Andromeda's warned over the radio. "Highly capable planes! Don't lose track of them!"

"I know all too well..." Arquette quietly muttered as she directed her planes into battle. Her Rafales spun into place neatly behind their targets. Already their movements adjusted accordingly, their pursuit against White Valley waning as Arquette's planes chased their tails. Trails of contours lined the skies in a dizzying waltz as hunters became prey. As they tried to shake off their pursuers, Geofon's planes soon faced further company as Buzzard's Hornets jumped in to join their own chase.

The jet planes swirled and twisted but like missiles Arquette's birds did not relent. Their targets were just shy of her aim, skirting its boundaries until finally, as the Su-37s entered their sights…

"I have you now!"

Then they jerked upward, slowing as if hanging in the air. The Rafales hastily swerved around but in doing so lost their quarry. Arquette cursed to herself as the Su-37s regained flight from the Kulbit maneuver.

Once again, the hunters had become prey.

The air battle above continued to rage overhead as Hornets, Rafales, and Flankers danced with Terminators. But try as they might, the individual acumen of the latter were more than the numerically superior airforce could muster. Time was ticking and it was not on their side.

"Damnation!" she cursed again. She glanced around, just in time to see white flashing before her eyes. With a grunt, Arquette reeled from the reflexive dodge.

"... You!"

Geofon did not reply as she gave her rapier a quick swing in preparation for the next attack, the thin blade slicing the air with an audible swish. Like a spring, she pounced again. Another swing, another narrow dodge. A jab, but evaded leaving nought but a shallow tear in Arquette's coat. Seething, she retaliated with a kick only for her knee to meet empty air.

"You may not be an uncultured commoner," Arquette began. "... But I will have you pay for what you did to my coat."

Her foe spared only a cold laconic response. "Unlikely." Legs tensed, Geofon charged again. Anticipating the move, Arquette unleashed a flurry of missiles, filling a wide swath in the air ahead of her opponent. Undeterred, Geofon swiftly raised her blade. With a focus long unfettered by emotion, the sword went to work, dashing and carving the air in front of her into a cloud of cuts. One by one, the missile swarm was nullified.

An impressive feat, if Arquette had time to admire it as opposed to worrying about the impending blade that was soon to skewer her.

For Geofon, there were no words or thoughts to be offered. This was merely another service to the Kingdom.

"... Hiiiyah!"

A yell off to the side was the only warning the two received before a dark figure suddenly tackled Geofon. Whoever she was, she tumbled with Geofon in a tangled mess of limbs and rigging.

"Sorry for the wait, your highness!" the figure laughed amid the struggle. "But I couldn't let you have all the fun!"

The surprised look immediately turned sour on Arquette's face. "... As if ever asked for your assistance in the first place, White Valley!"

As the two carriers struggled, a swift jab knocked the wind out of the Delta Coalition carrier before an overhead throw tossed her aside like a ragdoll. As she rose back to her feet, combat intuition revealed to Geofon a missile from behind, reacting only in time to be smothered in an explosive cloud. It smothered her in blinding smoke.

From the side, Buzzard wasted no time. "White Valley, Arquette! We're pulling out!"

As the smoke cleared, Geofon coughed lightly - but only once. Her eyes narrowed as she regained her senses.

No longer were the allied carriers confronting her in open view. No longer were their planes in the air, only hers remained.

But was she the victor?

Nothing but wreckage and raging inferno accompanied her, the corpses of the supply convoy meant for them, its valuable cargo now destined to the abyss.

Geofon glowered at the sight.

She didn't hear them, but she already knew their approach. "... Is the remaining cargo accounted for?"

Surprised, Taisch and Thiassi looked at each other. "We did exactly as you ordered," the latter reported. "The last of the tankers will make it safely, all cargo accounted for since I checked it myself! N-not that there was anything worth pilfering!"

"Indeed! Though a merciless demon of war, even the great Demon Lord can grant favor to even the most helpless of victims. The Scriptures have spoken!"

Geofon said nothing, her unmoved face offering no explanation to her subordinates. She stared as if she was paying no attention. Her silence seemingly challenged the destroyers to make a foolish move.

But it was not long until she spoke again. "Return to base."

Wordlessly, the two destroyers turned to leave, their actions without hesitation but not their minds. Geofon followed after without sparing further thought.

The battle had ended. She had personally seen and tested her foes as she had planned. That was all she needed to know.

But the queen will want to know something else.

"... And just what were you thinking to throw yourself at her like that?"

"C'mon Arquette, you know me."

"No, I do not!"

Buzzard sighed. Even with a job done passably she felt more exhausted than ever.

Her radio beeped. "You've crossed the return line. All ships outside the AO and accounted for."

"Mission wasn't exactly a success," Buzzard responded. "A fraction of the convoy made it through. Geofon arrived just in time to prevent us from fully accomplishing Hunting Hawk."

"It's okay," reassured Andromeda. "Thanks to your efforts, the Aegir Fleet just lost approximately five operational days' worth of fuel that they would've used. That'll give us enough time to proceed with the next stage of our strategy.

"Head on home. You've bought yourself some time to rest. Fort Grace is already looking forward to the results."

"Wilco. Buzzard out."

Suddenly, Buzzard felt refreshed.

The war was far from over but it did not mean they had failed; rather, they had yet to win.