>>3882012
7:50 am. A bit late for the busy schedule of the crew on a super battleship, but still within breakfast hours in the mess hall. As I joined the queue in preparation to fetch meals for myself and Margaret, I began hatching a plan on how I should approach her on the topic...

Perhaps loosen her lips with some alcohol?

I suppose the bottle of sake I stored away finally found its purpose. On the other hand, I couldn’t help but doubt if the sake alone would be strong enough to intoxicate her enough to let slip such sensitive information. Of the many things, the Empire was renowned for its rich social drinking culture ranks among the top. Among the nation’s inhabitants, the Rus people were amongst the most tolerant to the side effects of the drink, producing and consuming some of the strongest liquors known to man. If the ‘gift’ Margaret has offered us back in Kure was anything to go by, she’s most definitely in the same league as her kin.
Maybe I should go for something stronger?
Even if the alcohol had no effect on her, I may still be able to set up an appropriate atmosphere for her to trust me enough to offer at least some information. By any means, it was still worth a try.

“Next!”
Ayafumi’s stern holler took my thoughts back to the mess deck queue I was in, to which I quickly moved forward to gather breakfast for Margaret and myself. The menu for today consisted of corned meat hash, scrambled eggs, oatmeal, and coffee, by all means, standard meal items aboard a ship- and fortunately for me, Ayafumi has already prepared Margaret and my share, packed in a paper bag. Thanking the masked samurai-cook, I picked up our meal and left the mess hall at once, heading back to the Captain’s chambers I had come from.

When it comes to something stronger than sake, I may have an idea of where to look.
As the Captain’s situation gradually worsened, he resorted to many different methods to lessen his pain, including the consumption of strong liquors when not on duty. Maybe he still had some left-back in his office?
Opening the door, I immediately began my search, starting from the wooden cabinet at the corner of the chamber’s ‘living room’. Opening the cabinet door, I was greeted with a sizeable stockpile of morphine shots, oral opioids, and a vast array of other painkillers as if it had belonged to a serial drug addict. But knowing Captain Suwabe’s debilitating condition, this was probably the only solution he had to appear presentable in public.

That said, morphine is quite a strong sedative…

File: 4118668.jpg (92 KB, 1024x600)

92 KB JPG

>>3882017
No, no. I shook my head fiercely, brushing off the idea of putting the substance to use. With simply how wrong that would be, why am I even entertaining that very idea?
I chose to ignore the pile of drugs and moved on to search the cabinet’s drawers and found exactly what I was looking for.

In the second drawer to the left, I found an interestingly shaped oval glass bottle housing a pale amber liquid. On top of the bottle’s rounded body was a handwritten label, written in cursive of a language I do not recognize. While the contents of the label elude me, its presence, as well as the bottle’s exotic appearance, made clear that this was no doubt of foreign origin, and likely of exceedingly high quality.
Picking up the bottle for a closer inspection, I noticed that the bottle had been opened and recorked, with ⅔ of the bottle already empty. Driven by curiosity, I decided to pull out the cork and give it a sniff.

…
My olfactory senses were instantly met with a strong, stimulating fragrance. The scent, pleasantly floral and slightly fruity like orange blossom, quickly latched onto my nose, even as I re-corked the bottle.
The sweet, lingering aroma was also accompanied by noticeable alcoholic sting which, while not unpleasant, was a telltale indication of a strong spirit.

“This should be good enough...”
Whatever its contents were, it must’ve been greatly appreciated by Captain Suwabe, enough for him to go out his way to get his hands on even in his sickly state.
While I cannot even begin to imagine the sort of insurmountable pain he had to go through, a glass of his favorite liquor must’ve at least brought him some comfort and enjoyment towards the end of his life.
Moreover, something this potent might just be enough to loosen Margaret’s lips.

I tucked the bottle under my arm, then returned to the dining table where I set the paper bag of breakfast I fetched from the mess deck earlier. Still warm to the touch, I figured I should probably deliver it as soon as I can. Wouldn’t be a proper breakfast if the food has gone cold, after all.

Soon, I found myself once again standing right before the watertight door leading to the glowing, pulsating ‘heart’ of the Yamato.

File: 1556894239537.jpg (278 KB, 696x1088)

278 KB JPG

>>3882037
“Margaret-san? It’s me.” I gave the door a little knock and a heads up to Margaret before using my free hand to turn the handwheel.
“Ah, Subaru-kun!” Taking note of my entry Margaret lifted her head to greet me, already sitting in her ‘throne’ and committing to her duty. Wiping away the beads of sweat on her forehead, she removed the electrode pads on her body to waving at me.

“I brought breakfast,” I said, lifting the paper bag I was holding “would you like to have it now?”

“Sure!” The Valkyria didn’t hesitate to hop out of her seat to join me.

Margaret’s fast-paced breathing was like that of an athlete after a session of intensive workout. In a sense, it was a significant improvement over her completely exhausted state as of yesterday and leagues better than her first outing on the Yamato. Then again, the day had just begun. I may have to remind her again not to push herself too far

“Here is the menu today.” I laid out the contents of the paper bag, two metallic lunch boxes, one big and one small, alongside some silverware. I placed the larger lunchbox before Margaret and gave her a short description of the contents. She joyfully opened hers, as I did mine.

Compared to my serving, Margaret’s share was far greater in quantity and variety. While the contents were identical, she was given double the portion of oatmeal, scrambled eggs, and meat hash, with an additional serving of fresh, sliced fruits beside a… muffin? The confectionery item was nowhere to be seen in the mess deck, meaning this was likely not a part of the standard ration, but rather specially prepared for the packed meal. With the amount of labor her work required and her importance to the operation, this reward was certainly rightfully warranted.

“Did you pick these for me?” Margaret exclaimed excitedly as she noticed the additional items in her meal, her cheeks flushing a shade of pink “Thank you, Subaru-kun!”

“All thanks to Haruta-dono,” I answered, scooping up a spoonful of scrambled egg. “He made all of these.”
Truth be told, Ayafumi’s handiwork has consistently gone beyond the standards a usual mess deck meal has any right to be, despite utilizing the exact same rationed ingredients. That said, I still could not get my head around how or why Ayafumi would have such proficiency in culinary arts. It just felt quite...conflicted with the image he always presented himself as. Couldn’t complain though.

File: aa885b14a7547d86e2510ef0a(...).png (821 KB, 1000x1412)

821 KB PNG

>>3882065
“Here Subaru-kun, this one’s for you.”
While I wondered about my comrade’s peculiar skillset, Margaret took the time to break her muffin in half and presented one of the halved pieces before me.
“Margaret-san, this is supposed to be for you!”
“Mama always told us to share with those we hold dear.” She smiled. “Please, take it!”
“Th… Thank you. I’m flattered”

I picked up the muffin piece from Margaret’s hand and watched idly as she began feasting upon her share. Whether or not she was being genuine, I found myself more motivated the longer we stayed together.

Now, speaking of sharing...
“ Margaret-san, I’ve got something to share with you too,” I said, reaching for the bottle of strong liquor I took from Captain Suwabe’s cabinet I placed under the table. “Would you like a sip?”
I expected her to take the beverage right away, only to be rewarded with a confused look.

“But Subaru-kun,” She swallowed her mouthful of meat hash before continuing. “I don’t think drinking in the morning is appropriate!”
…Well, I haven’t thought of that.
Margaret was right, the day has just started, and this was hardly the right time and place to indulge in alcohol.
“Ah, but we can have a sip after work!” She quickly followed up, reverting back to her happy self.
“Let’s save it for the night then.”
I played along, setting it aside for later. While part of me was anxious of carrying out the plan, I couldn’t deny that the other part was genuinely looking forward to having a little drink with her.
“I’ll be looking forward to it, Subaru-kun-”

Right as Margaret finished her word, our little conversation was abruptly cut short by the sharp, blaring noise of the internal comms system, reverberating throughout the entire Yamato.

“Attention crew, we are approaching Gallian Waters. All bridge crew, report to stations immediately.”
Hisao, with his usual no-nonsense attitude, gave the orders as concise as possible.

“Are you going to the bridge?” Margaret asked, already finishing off her meat hash and moving on to the oatmeal in her lunchbox.

“I am. I have duties there too.” Setting aside the lunch box and the silverware, I pushed my chair back and stood up. Even if Isao was the de-facto running the ship, I was still the one Captain Suwabe entrusted his position to- and should any opportunity for me to return to the bridge arise, I would take it in a heartbeat.

File: 61188294_p0.png (1.07 MB, 1416x1003)

1.07 MB PNG

>>3882067
“Good luck, Subaru-kun!” Margaret smiled and nodded approvingly, almost as if this was the answer she wanted to hear.
“But if I leave, then you’ll by your own…”
“No worries, Subaru-kun.” She gently clasped my hands in her palms and gave a reassuring look. “I can take care of myself. Now, you should hurry to the bridge! They’re waiting for you!”
Margaret’s encouragement has motivated me like fuel to a fire.
“Thanks, I’ll see you later.”

With newfound determination, I waved Margaret goodbye and left the boiler room, heading straight for the bridge. While decrypting the national treasure was indeed important, so was reestablishing authority in the bridge. I don’t intend to be seen as a lame-duck forever.

In fast strides, I ascended the decks and quietly made my way into the Yamato’s bridge. For the first time in three days, the glaring rays of the sun and the open blue of the ocean beamed into my eyes. Once my eyes have finally adjusted to the sudden change in brightness, my focus shifted to the familiar faces around me diligently working on their designated stations, standing by for any orders.

Right in the middle stood Isao Nishihara, positioned right next to the vacant seat reserved for the Captain. Eyes sharp as a hawk and stance as stiff as a mountain, he overlooked the rest of Yamato’s bridge from this elevated platform. As the man noticed my presence, I was greeted only by his characteristic silent, stern glimpse, and nothing else- much to the contrary of another brutal scolding I had expected.

Was this his way of showing approval? I guess only Itaru would know.

“We have received a transmission from the Gallians.” My supposed first officer stated loud and clear. “As per arrangements made by Captain Suwabe, they shall assist us in our operation, and in return, we shall help them defend against the Khanate’s prepared invasion on these islands.”
Wait… Defend? The Khagan is bringing another war here? This soon?
I guess it was somewhat reasonable. With the whole of East Auswa united under their banner, it was only natural for the Khagan to set his sights further down south. Since the Khaganate won’t want to risk an all-out conflict with the Federation, the only logical target would be Gallia’s colonies in the region.
Except, I never thought it would come as soon as it did.

File: 下載.jpg (19 KB, 400x266)

19 KB JPG

>>3882132
“Get the Gallians on the line.” Isao ordered while the bridge crew executed his command. There was static at first, but shortly after, the noise died down and reception stabilized.
“We’re through, sir!”
He responded with a nod, then turned to me.

“Carry out your duty.” He said in cold monotone. “Or are you forfeiting your position as acting Captain?”
“No, I’m doing it.” I took my stand, then stepped forth to the intercom picking up the mouthpiece.

This somewhat reminded me of what I did that day…
I quickly shook my head to bring back my focus. This was not the time for scarred memories to resurface.
It’s my first task after returning to my position, I ought to make the most out of it.

“This is the Yamato, does anyone copy?”
“Welcome to Sigmund’s Spice Spire.” A casual, light-hearted tone broke through the static, much to my confusion. “May I take your order?”
I stared blankly at the intercom speakers, perplexed by the words that had just entered my ears. Could it be that we hit the wrong channel? No, that can’t be right, no restaurant services could possibly be able to take calls from radios, let alone this far out in the ocean.

As I was lost in words, Isao stepped forth and slipped me a piece of paper. “Pizza Bianca with Dreadnatilus in Garlic and Parsley Butter”
What in the world?
I stared back at Isao, who remained silent, only pointing at the words on the paper, urging me to read out the contents.
“Pizza Bianca with Dredo-nautilosu in garlic and, umm, parzley Butter?” I tried my best to make every word was properly articulated.
…
…

“YAS! YAAAS!!!”
For some reason, the volume from the other side got dialed up several decibels as the grating voice boomed through our speakers.
“Prraise de Lord, we’ve finally fount dem!”
I took a peek at the bridge crew all around me, and to no surprise found them all as dumbfounded as I was.
This certainly wasn’t the sort of reply anyone expected.
“Hjalle-fucking-luia I can finally kiss dis cagada of a place goodbye!"
Notably, the voice of the man on the other side had carried a distinct tone and rolled tongue pronunciation that was more commonly found in Hispana, the westernmost country of the Atlantic Federation on the Europan mainland.

File: 98a53b781ed675edc6a279338(...).png (1.4 MB, 857x1143)

1.4 MB PNG

>>3882161
“Umm, excuse me?”
“Oh parrdon me,” he continued, maintaining the louder than usual volume from the magnified speakers “dat wasn't talking about you.
See, we've been in dese waters for a damn week searching for you, and all we fount were dese puto scout planes, U-boots ant--”
"COMMANDER!"
Just as the conversation devolved into a one-sided rant of the Gallian commander continuously tossing out grievance after grievance as if we were in an Izakaya after a 12-hour workday, he was cut off by a loud, feminine voice from the background, which translated to a deafening roar through the amplified speakers.
What followed was a loud rumble, as if something had fallen over and hit the ground hard from the other side.

"Are things, um, alright over there?"

“Allow me to apologize on behalf of the commander."
Voice once again came through after a moment of silence. This time, the speaker has changed to the lady who had interrupted the man earlier."
“What was dat for, Lynn!? Give dat back!”
“Please excuse me for a second.”
The lady on the comms, Lynn, apparently set the mouthpiece aside to settle the matters at hand.
Unfortunately for her, the heightened of the transmission meant the entire length of their argument were heard clearly through our transmission.
“Commander, what the devil are you doing? You're supposed to be representing all of us!”
"Alright, alrrright! I get it," Her higher-ups brushed off the complaints like a disobedient child. “you don't have to shout in my ear--”
“I'm going to keep doing that until you take this seriously!”
“Fine,” He finally complied with a sigh. “I'll take it seriously, may I have de mouthpiece back?”

“I guess we now know the kind of ally we'll be dealing with.” Satoru pinched the neck of his nose, utterly baffled by what has now spiraled into some sort of amateur quarrel between our supposed ally.
“And they also mentioned submarines and scout planes...” Yanagi followed up nervously.
From the corner of my eyes, I noticed wrinkles forming, then deepening on Isao’s forehead. By the time the two had finished their squabble, the no-nonsense naval officer looked as if he was ready to commit murder.

>>3882185
“Ahem… Let's start ober. Dis is Commander Glascon Trastámara of de Gallian East Indies Fleet.” The voice returned after finally wrestling back control of the mic. “Captain Nage...Messa of the Yah-mah-tow, I suppose?”

It took me a second to realize he was referring to Captain Suwabe, with the way he completely butchered his name.
Amidst the growing frustration within the bridge, I took a deep breath and resumed diplomacy.
“This is Subaru Kurokawa, acting captain of the Yamato.” I politely answered his inquiry. “Captain Suwabe Nagamasa has opted to stay behind and defend Formosa, and tasked me to carry out the operation in his stead.”
“ Crowqwa...um. Okey.” The man acknowledges after a brief pause. “We coult discuss dese matters later. Stay where you are, and me men will come to fetch you shortly.”

Stay and wait? Didn’t he just say there were enemy submarines and scout planes prowling around these waters?

“Trastámara-dono, we would like to rendezvous with your crew directly.”
If his previous claims about the common sightings of enemy scout planes and submarines were valid, we’d be sitting ducks waiting to be ambushed if we stayed at the same spot.
“Hm...” The Gallian Commander hesitated for a brief moment. “You habe de chart for dis area?”
I looked towards Isao, who gave a subtle nod as reply to the question.
“We do.”
“Excelente,” He compliments, followed by the rustling of paper. “Now les’s see… Can you ged to dese coordinates: 20° 25 10 N, 121° 52 3 W. ? It’s six miles north-northwest to Isla Ibuhos of the Batanes Isles. Dat alright?”

“Do you have that down, Navigator?”
“Affirmative. 20° 25 10 N, 121° 52 3 W.” Satoru responded impassively as he fluently recited the coordinates out loud, not taking any moment to double-check.

“Thank you, Trastámara-dono. We shall meet there shortly.”
“No problem. ¡Te veo pronto!”

As the transmission ended, I could feel the distraught and frustration of the entire bridge crew lingering in the air. It’s safe to say after that shocking display of incompetence and lack of professionalism, the crew had very little faith in our newfound allies.
I really couldn’t blame them, as I share their sentiment.

File: 1499270655239.jpg (288 KB, 1280x1108)

288 KB JPG

>>3882229

“Aono, bring out the charts for these waters. Morishima, I want eyes on that radar.”
On the other hand, Isao sprung into action the moment our transmission ended, already giving orders to the bridge crew before getting to Yamato’s internal intercoms.
“All crew, follow ASW protocol. All listeners, on high alert. Sonar team, report any underwater anomaly immediately. ”

As the rest of the bridge went to work, I laid my eyes upon the empty captain’s chair, the seat of authority on this ship. With Isao’s constant, overwhelming presence, I felt far from worthy to sit on the seat where the man known as “Suwabe of the Miracles” once occupied. There’s still a long way to go before I can feel qualified to take up the position he has entrusted to me.

My attention then shifted to Satoru, busy going through scrolls of nautical charts. This man, who I’ve known practically all my life, suddenly felt so alien and distant. I knew he looked down on ‘needless sacrifices’, but was my sister’s life needed? For someone I had grown up with, someone I shared pains and triumphs, who even went out of his way to save my life… How could he be cruel enough to do such a thing?
I would be lying to say I haven’t had multiple impulsive urges to crack his skull open for what he had done, yet every time the memories of our days together would stop me from acting out my rage.
I’m… just not sure how to face him anymore.

“Aono, do we have a path?” Last but not least, Isao moved on to address Yamato’s immediate destination.
“We do.” Satoru replied without looking back. “The Batanes is approximately a hundred miles off Palawan’s Northern coast, and Isla Ibuhos is the largest island in that chain with the deepest waters. The island lies to the Southeast of our current trajectory, but if we keep our current pace, we could get there within three hours.”
“Good, set sail immedi…”

“Unidentified submarine detected!” A shrill second call from our internal intercom quickly sucked away all the attention of the bridge crew “Distance and bearing, 450 meters at seven o’clock. Speed, 5 knots. It is currently running parallel to the Yamato!”
Isao furrowed his brows. “Parallel?”
If their goal was to attack us, shouldn’t the submarine be ideally facing perpendicular to Yamato, as so their torpedoes would have the widest range to hit? Unless...

“It’s tailing us.” He quickly drew a conclusion before using the intercom to signal the marines. “Combat crew, maintain contact with sonar team and have anti-submarine armaments on stand-by.”

“Roger that. Lads, prep the depth charges and the hari-senbon.”

File: Atoikamui submarine.png (280 KB, 1211x269)

280 KB PNG

>>3882244
The one to answer was none other than Itaru, commanding his men to unveil another set of Yamato’s impressive arsenal - the Type-3 Ren anti-submarine mortars, nicknamed ‘hari-senbon’ by the soldiers of our navy. Taking the design of the Empire’s mobile rocket artillery, these multi-rail launchers were capable of firing 24 mortars all at once. Unlike depth charges, their area of effect quality gives them a much better chance of hitting the target, while their smaller payload causes much smaller interference to the listeners and sonar detection.

“Hold your fire until the enemy is within range.” He ordered with ironclad resolve. “The Sonar team will give you the signal.”
“Aye sir!”
Itaru’s simple reply was unmistakably layered with a tone of excitement and anticipation, a sentiment shared by him and his men who lived every day like their last. Sometimes, I wish I could live with that mentality too.

“Aono, what other routes are out there?” Wasting no time, Isao quickly moved on to analyzing all the other options available to us.
“Numerous,” Satoru answered. “The Valkyria Drive allows us to easily outrun any submarine in service. However, there’s no saying that they won’t fire a torpedo at us.”
The chief officer with the eyepatch then turned his gaze to me, as if asking for my final input on this matter.

“Our foremost objective is to rendezvous with our allies. There’s little need to waste time hunting down a submarine that could barely catch up to us.”
A part of me was still very much worried about this enemy alerting Lady Sima and her fleet of our location. However, it’s more than likely she already was aware of our intended destination, and sinking that submarine would do little other than slowing us down.

Isao nodded, surprisingly receptive to my suggestion, then returned to the ship’s intercoms to give further orders.
“This is Nishihara from the bridge. Osamura, do you copy?”
“Ni...Nishihara-san, w-w-what’s wrong?” The anxious voice of the Yamato’s head mechanic responded through the intercom speakers. Though he was easily startled by nature, it appears that Mori Osamura was already aware of tight atmosphere permeating through all levels of the Yamato. Isao’s call only confirmed all his worries.
“I need increased output from the engines. Get on it.”
“Y...Yessir!”

File: u-g-PFIB260.jpg (22 KB, 550x413)

22 KB JPG

>>3882263
As soon as the order was given, a low growling echo originated from deep within the Yamato’s heart, followed by the distinct azure glow began emanating from the crevasses on the walls and floor of the bridge. Eventually, the entire battleship is engulfed in the mystic glow, not unlike our maiden voyage out of Kure.
“Energy transfer proceeding, turbine output rising to 55 percent… 65 percent...” Satoru started his countdown as the lights progressively glowed brighter.

*BOOM*
*Splaaaaaash!*

The countdown was abruptly cut short by the noise of a somewhat distant explosion, quickly followed by a huge splash that tossed water several stories high, a few hundred meters away to our seven.
Before anyone had the chance to react, the bridge- or rather, the entire ship- rocked violently back and forth, as if hit by a massive rogue wave out of nowhere. Everyone not seated was instantly thrown off balance, many toppling over and landing on the floor.

“W-what was that!?” Yanagi looked around nervously, almost falling out of her seat. “Was that a torpedo!?”
“Damage report!” Isao shouted as he picked himself off the ground, while Satoru rushed before the control panel to check for any anomaly or alarms that may have been set off.
“The hull suffered no significant damage, sir.” Satoru replied as he skimmed through the wall of indicators and panels. “No malfunction indicators lit… Part of the shield was still active during the energy transfer. Looks like we got lucky.”
With the knowledge that the situation was not critical, Isao let out a long breath before going back to the intercom to notify the rest of the crew.

“All crew, the hull has not been breached. Return to your stations, and check for any additional damages.”

“Sir, we have a transmission.” While Isao was communicating with the rest of the crew, the radio operator at the comms station interjected. “It’s… from the Gallians.”
“Put them through.” Isao commanded, shooting a glance at me to take over the operator’s duty at the radio. I promptly complied, picking up the mouthpiece in preparation.
…
“.py..Y..to... DO YOU COPY?”
After a moment of static, Glascon’s voice once again roared in Yamato’s bridge, this time even louder than before, causing noticeable discomfort for some of the crew sitting closer to the speakers. However, unlike the laid back, carefree tone the Gallian Commander exhibited on our last conversation, this time he sounded extraordinarily serious and somewhat desperate.
“We can hear you alright, Trastámara-dono.” I answered, to which he lets out an audible sigh, presumably out of relief.

File: ee4d5f8bb9123fa467581b1c2(...).png (337 KB, 720x900)

337 KB PNG

>>3882268
“Crowqwa? Gracia a Dios…” His tone softened, somewhat regaining composure “Alright, pleaze stop where you’re going, drop de anchors ant gibe us your coordinates. I’ll sent a deam to fetch you pronto.”
“Excuse me?”
“Okey, so here’s da ting: I forgot to mention we just laid mines in dat secdor two days ago. Now stey pud” He attempted to reassure us, failing to convince most of the crew on the bridge. “There iz a roude where you can sail safely, and de deam I’m sending would guide you through. So please, jus stay dere before dey arrive.”

Wait, the direction where the blast originated… did the submarine earlier trigger a mine?
Not only that the explosion was strong enough to rock even this behemoth, and we’ve been sailing upon a minefield this entire time?
I wiped off the beads of sweat that collected on my forehead. This was the closest call the Yamato has come to a disaster. And to think this was inflicted by the sheer incompetence of our newfound allies...

“I need someone to check on the status of the crew on other decks.”
While the flare of rage and disapprobation burnt brightly in Isao’s unpatched eye, he remained calm and collected in his composure, resuming his duty and giving orders while trying not to crack his voice. As demanding as he was, Glascon Trastámara was someone he just couldn’t handle.

“I’ll go check the lower decks.” Satoru volunteered, quick to leave his seat. “I need to discuss with the sonar team on anti-naval mine strategies, as well as make sure the rudder’s functioning properly.”

I watched quietly as my old acquaintance dashed out the bridge through the watertight door and immediately made a turn towards the stairs. Instead of following, I decided to place my focus on the upcoming diplomacy exchange with the Gallians, hence opting to stay at the bridge. As I sat at the external radio on standby, Isao began dialing the battleship’s various stations for a more detailed damage report.
“Armory, status report.”

“Anyone care to explain what the hell that was?” Akane’s voice barked from the intercoms, sounding as crude and slightly more irritated than usual.
“The hostile submersible triggered a Gallian naval mine. Sitrep, Akasaka.” Wasting no time to entertain the tanker’s attitude, Isao cut straight to the point.
“Ugh...” Akane let out a long, audible sigh before responding with mild annoyance.
“The armory is an absolute mess. A few crates fell out from the racks, and now there’s shells and ammunition rolling all over the place.”

A messed up armory with ammunition spilled all over the place? Wasn’t that supposed to be very dangerous? How could she keep herself in such a calm state under such critical circumstances?

“Any immediate threat of a fire?”
“No signs of smoke, but I sure don’t like what I’m seei...”

>>3882298
“Akane?”
Before she could finish, a foreign, heavily muffled voice interrupted the transmission. It was hard to make out who the voice belonged to, but it was unmistakable that the individual called Akane by her first name.
“Hold up.” Taking notice, Akane quickly excused herself to what I would imagine to be more pressing matters at hand.
This person must be Mori then, but wasn’t he in the engine room, in the Yamato’s lower decks?

“Combat deck, status report.” Wasting no time, Isao moved on to the next important part of the ship’s operating platforms.
“Oh, nothing much here. One of the boys tripped and dislocated his jaw, but that’s about it.” Itaru answered with little worry in his tone. “But you might want to check on Hibari-chan, I heard some really loud rattlings from the hangars when we were shak...”

Isao instantly switched the channel, cutting his long time comrade off mid sentence. An accident in the hangars would be no small matter, not to mention the fuel tanks and precious prototypes stored there.
“Hangers, does anyone copy?” He spoke into the microphone, this time with a slightly raised voice.
“Yes.” Hibari’s answer came after a slight delay. “Bit of a mess here.”
“Status report.”
“One of the fasteners broke loose and one of the prototype planes rammed into the hull. The thing’s wing suffered some structural damage, but luckily no fuel leak or engine damage. Our mechanics should be able to patch it up.”
“Good.”
Isao nodded, seemingly content with the answers she gave. But even so, we’ve temporarily lost one functioning aircraft at our disposal.

“Engine Room, report.” Iaso went on to address the next station in line. While I’m pretty confident that the engine could withstand far more intense punishment, it was still better to make sure everything’s fine.
“Osamura, report.”
Isao spoke into the mic again, but what he got in return was nothing but a resounding silence.
“OSAMURA!”

Isao, on a rare display of temper, raised his voice and yelled into the mic, but once again received no answer. It soon became clear that the station was more likely completely vacant.
“Is there anyone in that station!?” he slammed the mic on the podium in a complete break of composure. This anger, however, was totally understandable. The engine room was arguably Yamato’s most important sector, and leaving it unattended was a surefire way to incur a disaster.
“All readings are normal, sir.” One of the bridge crew reports from the control panel. “The rest of the engine crew are likely working at their stations. ”
“Where is Osamura then?” The one-eyed man demanded, composure slowly returning to his stance.

>>3882303
Isao, on a rare display of temper, raised his voice and yelled into the mic, but once again received no answer. It soon became clear that the station was more likely completely vacant.
“Is there anyone in that station!?” he slammed the mic on the podium in a complete break of composure. This anger, however, was totally understandable. The engine room was arguably Yamato’s most important sector, and leaving it unattended was a surefire way to incur a disaster.
“All readings are normal, sir.” One of the bridge crew reports from the control panel. “The rest of the engine crew are likely working at their stations. ”
“Where is Osamura then?” The one-eyed man demanded, composure slowly returning to his stance.

The question quickly circled back to its starting point. Considering how much of a craven the head scientist was, he probably went to find Akane just now, which would explain the interruption at the armory earlier.

Likely coming to the same conclusion, Isao decided not to dwell on the issue and instead swapped to the next channel without saying a word.

“Mess deck, damage report.”
“Y-yes?”
While everyone expected Ayafumi to pick up, the anxious, feminine voice coming from the other side was most definitely not him.
“Um...” The voice continued to stutter, completely lost as to what and how to respond. It was almost as if she had never been through any sort of training before.
Wait, then the only possible candidate behind the intercom would be...

“Damage. Report.” Isao repeated himself, completely unamused by this unexpected turn of events.
“Uh, so… A pot of roux toppled over…” The person from the other side spoke slowly, recounting the scene as if she was describing a news report. “Their contents poured all over the stove, and now the stove’s on fire...”
A fire? While the mess deck may seem inconspicuous, but it's also one of the most prominent sectors prone to fire hazards. If left uncontrolled, things may quickly spiral out of control.
"Where's Haruta?"
"He-" She stops for a gasp, as if an object was shoved past her. "He just laid a wet towel over the stove, and the others are- "

“Situation under control.”
All of a sudden, the line from the other side was forcefully taken away from the novice, replaced by a deep, deadpan voice. Spoken loud and clear, those three words were the last thing the army man had to report before ending the transmission.

File: 49179365_p5.png (282 KB, 900x720)

282 KB PNG

>>3882322
“Sir, we have a transmission from the Gallians” Just as Isao finished off the last of the checkups, our radio operator soon interjected with more news from our allies… hopefully some good ones.
“Put them through.” Isao commanded, shooting a glance at me to take over the operator’s duty at the radio. I promptly complied, picking up the mouthpiece in preparation.
“... Hello… Hello?” a muffled but familiar voice echoed through the thick static. “This is Lieutenant Lynn---Palawan---eet.”
“We can hear you” I replied with assurance. Though I could still vaguely make out what the Gallian was saying, the static ultimately made things a lot harder to process.

“---Flare” she pronounced through the muffling buzz “---ease---respond---if---see”
“Flare spotted on the horizon, 11 o’clock!” The observatory deck quickly relayed the message moments later through the intercoms.
“What else do you see?” Isao inquired.
“An old torpedo boat heading this way sir. What do we do?”

“Let them approach. Get the shield on standby” He answered, “Kurokawa, maintain radio contact.”
“Understood.” I quickly responded, to which Isao followed with a nod.

“-Yamato, can you hear me?”

After a few more transmissions muddled with noise, a new transmission came blaring through the comms.
At last, this message was clear enough to be properly audible from our side.
Since I was to be the one tasked with communicating with our new allies first hand, I was given reign on how to receive them. First impressions are important, after all.

“We can hear you, Lieutenant.” I quickly answered back.
“Thank god...” The voice spoke with relief. “This is Lieutenant Lynn of the Gallian Pacifica Fleet, Palawan Garrison. Please allow me to apologize on behalf of the commander of this station. The inattentiveness exhibited by our side was absolutely disgraceful, and I could not be more ashamed of almost bringing harm upon our allies...”

Not wasting a second, Lynn delved right into an apologetic rambling for the unintentional close call we experienced due to the incompetence of her commanding officer.
“Fortunately, the Yamato did not sustain damage.” I addressed her calmly. While I, like most aboard Yamato, were less than confident in the capabilities of our new allies, the fault was not in her to begin with. Despite the close call earlier, the Gallians were still the only people willing to lend us a helping hand in desperate times like these. And as the saying goes, beggars can’t be choosers.

File: 8885564_p0.jpg (32 KB, 912x471)

32 KB JPG

>>3882333
“May I speak with your commander Trastámara-dono? I would like to discuss with him the details of our cooperation. ”
There was a short pause before we received Lynn’s response.“Yes, certainly, however, our radio equipment was slightly… underpowered for maintaining reliable long-distance communication. Please allow me to guide you through these waters to rejoin our main fleet.”

“The torpedo boat has made a U-turn, sir.” The observatory deck informed moments later.
“Should we follow?” The helmsmen inquired, looking to Isao for the decision.
“Prepare to set sail.” The one-eyed first officer reluctantly commands under a low grumble. As much as he disliked the company of allies with questionable competency, these were also the only people who had any idea of how to traverse through this minefield safely.

With a deep, reverberating growl, the Yamato’s engines once again powered her turbines, driving the steel behemoth forward. Carefully, she sailed upon the precarious waters, slowly following behind a ship less than a hundredth her frame.

As we heedfully trudged forward, we were greeted with two additional small vessels appearing over the horizon. These vessels, both of which torpedo boats, made a U-turn as soon as they are sufficiently close, joining Lynn’s vessel.
As we were led deeper into Gallian waters, more torpedo ships turned up, gradually forming a rough V formation before the Yamato to guide our path with greater clarity, forming a welcoming party mirroring the time when we first reached Formosa.
It was almost as if the Gallians were rolling out a red carpet for us.

After approximately an hour of following Lynn’s guide, we were led to what could only be described as a waterway leading into a larger, enclosed body of water.
“We have arrived at our destination, the island of Basco.” The Gallian presented. “Unfortunately, no military port in Palawan was large enough to harbor a battleship of Yamato’s caliber, but we managed to find a few natural harbors available. The water of this harbor is deep enough to handle the Yamato’s draft, wide enough for the Yamato to maneuver, and the island itself could provide protection from the elements.”

File: 1538425382055.jpg (448 KB, 750x1500)

448 KB JPG

>>3882338

“Thank you for your consideration, Lynn-dono.” I answered. While this is no Kure or even Amekou, having a haven to anchor for the time being is certainly welcomed.

“Captain Trastámara is waiting for you on the outpost ashore this island. Please allow me to fetch you there, Sir Kurokawa.”
“Understood. We should meet shortly.”
As I set the mouthpiece aside following the termination of the transmission, I could feel the entire bridge make a collective sigh of relief. We have successfully navigated out of a sailor’s equivalent of no man’s land. On the other hand, the atmosphere of uncertainty has taken over the intense stress, with many of the bridge crew showing noticeable concern for our future ahead.

For me, it’s time to meet the troublemaker in person. Though Lynn has specified my presence, I feel the need to bring a few members of the crew along to address some of the concerns of our cooperation.

Then there was the issue with protection. While Margaret might be the best candidate in this situation, she was needed in the boiler room so Yamato could make immediate responses to sudden events that may strike the crew out of the blue, as well as making the ship generally “function” as it should be. In short, she was too important to leave her position.

The next candidate was her friend from the commissariat, Igor. While there wasn’t anything undesirable about him, I would much rather have someone who wasn’t held back by a severe language barrier.
My other options weren’t too great either. Mori was too sheepish and Akane probably won’t have time to accompany me while babysitting our head mechanic.

Lastly, Yanagi has the important duty of keeping an eye on the radar for any abnormal activity, especially in foreign waters like these.

“I want Koshimizu-san and Shirataki-san to accompany me on this meeting” I turned towards Isao and stated, standing up from my post.
Meanwhile, Isao had just finished his ordering the helmsmen to anchor, sparing me no attention. He then picked up the intercom speaker and pressed the button for internal broadcast. “Lieutenant Commander Shirataki, Lieutenant Koishimizu, Kurokawa demand your presence in the upcoming diplomatic mission. Report to sector D-08 immediately.”

Though delivered in the same cold monotone, it was nevertheless quite surprising to see Isao carrying out my request without contest. Perhaps his opinion of me has raised a little? With the man’s glacial attitude, it was impossible to tell for sure.
I briefly saluted the first officer before heading out the door. Thinking back, this was likely the first positive interaction we have exchanged ever since knowing each other. At the very least, that was a substantial improvement.

Gallia.

File: 52cfae05ecad15a514104616f(...).png (529 KB, 639x800)

529 KB PNG

>>3882341
Reputed as the only nation that has beaten back both the Empire and the Federation, this little Europan nation was also well known for being the birthplace of powered flight. While Gallia lacked the resources to assemble a sizeable air fleet like that of the Khaganate or old Yu Empire, it remained the center of flight research in Europa even to this day. Perhaps their technicians could provide some insight into those enigmatic prototypes in Yamato’s hangars? It’d be even better if they could fix the damages on while they’re at it.

If my memory of the ship’s plan is correct, the sector D-08 on the starboard was where one of the draft ladders was located, right next to some anti-air installations and lifeboats.
Pushing past the numerous TripleType-96 25 mm Guns, I inched closer and closer to the gargantuan battleship’s edge, and once I reached the rim of the starboard I was met with the two individuals accompanying me on this diplomatic mission.

“Yo, Kurokawa.” Itaru waved at me pleasantly. “Been a while since we’re on some adventure together, eh?”
“We’re not here for vacation, Shirataki-senpai.” Hibari answered with a sigh.
“Ayy, look at the sun and the beach! Who knows, maybe our allies will even throw a welcoming party for us. You never know what the Gallians have to offer, Isn’t that right, Kurokawa?”

“Let’s hope they know what they’re doing.” I answered with bare minimum confidence while approaching the two.
“You don’t say.” Hibari shrugged in defeat. “To be honest, I expected more professionalism from the country that has defeated superpowers.”
“Oh, don’t be so tough on them. I’m sure they’re already doing everything they can.” Itaru patted her on the shoulder. The Lieutenant Commander’s attention then shifted to his men standing guard on the deck to his immediate left, who were tossing ropes right into the deep blue below. “Looks like our new friends have arrived, right on time too.”

On the edge of the deck of D-08 was a set of retrieved accommodation ladder that, when released, descended like a steep staircase parallel to the Yamato’s hull. A short distance away from the bottom of the ladder was an old, First Europan war era torpedo boat flying Gallia’s Unicorn coat of arms, gradually sailing closer to the Yamato.

The sailors on the boat donned the Gallian navy’s standard navy blue uniforms, albeit all of them ragged and worn from the elements, not dissimilar to the vessel they sail on.
Standing out amongst the other sailors like an amongst a black sheep in a flock was a relatively short Darcsen woman manning the fixed turret at the motorboat’s rear, easily identifiable by the color of her hair.

File: 2635109d12615578807c742b8(...).jpg (80 KB, 898x982)

80 KB JPG

>>3882356
Distinct from the rest of the crewmen, her combat fatigue in a lighter shade of blue, resembling more to the Gallian land unit’s uniform. Though young in appearance, her sharp, falcon-like eyes gave her the aura of a veteran who has seen and survived numerous skirmishes.

Leaving her position manning the turret, she grabbed onto one of the thick ropes tossed by our marines on deck, then swiftly tied it around a stump at the torpedo boat’s rear while her crewmen did the same for another rope in front of the ship. With the combined effort of the marines and the Gallians, the torpedo boat was successfully parked into position right under the accommodation ladder.

Carefully, the three of us descended down the ladders and planted ourselves onto the boat’s wooden deck. Aside from the two torpedoes situated on both sides, its only other equipment was a set of quickfire turrets at the front and rear. Much like most torpedo boats from the First Europan War, this one was directly modified from a compact civilian motorboat.

Wasting no time, she walked up and greeted us with a proper salute, facing towards her perceived figure of authority amongst the three of us.
“It is an honor to meet you in person, Captain Kurokawa!”
The receiving end of this courtesy, however, was not me, but Itaru.

“Oh no, Lieutenant, I’m just a glorified bodyguard,” Itaru responded to the gesture with a salute and a teasing laugh, then held up his free hand to point to my direction. “Captain Kurokawa is this one over here.”

Lynn turned towards me, her sharp expression instantly shifted into one of surprises and wonder, and a second later, embarrassment.

“You must be Lieutenant Lynn, correct?”
Remembering how Captain Suwabe usually conducts himself, I greeted the Gallian officer in a similar fashion, with her quick to snap back from her bewilderment.

“I-I’m terribly sorry, Captain Kurokawa!” She delved into bout of apologies, much like the way she acted during our prior comms exchange.
“It’s fine.” I made an attempt to comfort her. “I’m only an acting Captain, appointed by Captain Suwabe.”
“Acting Captain is still Captain nonetheless. Please forgive me for my actions.” Regardless, Lynn gave me a proper salute, to which I returned it in kind.
“Don’t worry, you’re forgiven.”

File: 72329823_p0.jpg (971 KB, 1200x798)

971 KB JPG

>>3882369
“So, where do we find your Commander, Lieutenant?” Hibari, as usual, skipped the pleasantries and shot straight to the point.
“The outpost is situated on the beach of the island.” Lynn nods and points northwards, towards the beach of the island “We shall ferry you there.”

The island of Basco was shaped like a crescent, with cliffs for both ends of the tips linked to a mountain in the center, forming a well-protected bay. The island itself was coated in a lush tropical forest from top to bottom, with the only exception being the white sandy beach on the edge of the bay.

As we traveled, I noticed what appeared to be an old fort on the southern cliff of the island, overlooking the bay. I could tell from the distance that the from one of its guard towers had long since collapsed, and the rest of the outer walls were covered in faint pockets of greenery. It was more than obvious that it has been in a state of disrepair for quite a long time now.

“What’s that?” I asked, pointing at the ancient structure.
“That’s an old fort built by Hispania, during the early colonial era.” Lynn explained while in her position manning the turret, “It has been in disrepair ever since the crown obtained these islands from them. The high command back then deemed restoring it to be not worth the effort, so it just stayed the way it is.”
While I doubt there would be anything of use left after all these years, the spot could serve as a good vantage and spotting point overlooking the area. That alone would make it worth checking out if we have the time.

A few moments later, we have arrived at the shores of the island, a white sandy beach surrounded by the dense foliage of greenery, with a short wooden pier jutting out into the water.

“We have arrived,” Lynn hopped off the torpedo boat as the rest of the crew docked the boat next to a makeshift wooden pier. “Please watch your step as you disembark.”

The three of us followed closely behind her, stepping onto the creaking pier leading into the sandy tropical beach. I surveyed the surroundings and noticed no signs of complex infrastructure, with the only man-made structure in sight being an unremarkable cabin sitting right at the beach’s edge, next to the dense tropical jungles. On the other hand, there was also a very peculiar... object, sitting on the flat patch of grass next to the shack. The object, appearing to be a vehicle of some sort, had the shape resembling a tadpole, a rounded, glass cockpit and a long tail of crisscrossing steel bars that resembled scaffolding. The top of the body was fitted with a large propellor, almost as long as the body, and a smaller propeller on its tail positioned perpendicular to the larger one. It had no wheels, instead supported by two steel bars that run perpendicular to the body of the vehicle

File: 下載.jpg (5 KB, 262x192)

5 KB JPG

>>3882376
The propellers indicated that this must be an aircraft, but the design was so bizarre and alien I have no idea how it was supposed to function, let alone get off the ground.

“Is that...” Hibari narrowed her eyes pointing a finger towards the vehicle before us.
“Unfortunately, this outpost is the best we can afford.” Lynn shook her head in resignation “Commander Trastámara is waiting inside.”
“No, that thing beside it.” She specified a strange vehicle and proceed to question our guide. “Is that a Gallian autogyro?”

“Not exactly.” Lynn replied, “But it’s a close cousin, we call it…”
“Di’s de best ride Gallia jhas to offer!” An undoubtedly masculine, vaguely familiar heavily accented voice interrupted Lynn mid-sentence.

Our attention focused on the source of the voice - a tall, tanned fellow walked out from a dilapidated shack at the jungle’s edge. He proudly wore a flowery patterned holiday shirt, sloppy and unbuttoned, and strutting forth in wide strides, not giving an ounce of care for presentability. This aspect was further accentuated as he came closer to view, with that badly shaven shadow, unkempt hair, and a distinct smell of last night’s alcohol. I did not bear high expectations for the man responsible for almost dooming our entire crew over a simple oversight, but I did not expect someone who had barely any semblance to a serving member of a proper military.

“Commander?”
“Aha Lynn! These must be our guests, si?”
He grinned like a mischievous kid as he greeted his subordinate, absent of any urgency, or seriousness whatsoever.

File: vw0xv1grJ1vbsy9io2_500.jpg (168 KB, 500x701)

168 KB JPG

How should I say it? In a way, Glascon Trastámara was exactly the sort of person I pictured in my mind the first time we exchanged words. Be it his casual attitude, sloppy manners, or just a general lack of discipline as someone in the armed forces. How did he obtain this position anyway?

I narrowed my eyes in suspicion as I the two Gallian officers made their exchange. Glascon’s features were undoubtedly western, but his skin tone darker than commonly seen - especially compared to his companions. Not only that, his accent was also distinctively different from them too. Which begs the question, is he even Gallian?

“Bienvenidos! Let’z discuss this somewhere more comfortable.”
With one wave of his hand, Glascon Trastámara invited us into his cabin.

The cabin was a modest, one story structure of wood, brick and roof tiles. As with most architectures built along the coastline, it was subjected to accelerated corrosion from humidity and salinity in the air, made particularly apparent by the lack of maintenance. Patches of shingles were missing from the rooftop, eroded away by the showers and monsoons while weed invaded the front porch. Not far from the entrance was an emptied oil drum propped off the ground by some bricks, and a flat, metallic sheet covered the top, constituting a system I could assume to be a water storage unit.

The heavily eroded door dislodged bits of dust and tiny shrapnel into the air as Glascon pushed it open, accompanied with an ominous “CREEEK…”, threatening to dislocate itself from the structure it was attached to.

“Welcome to my humble alojar ” He proudly presented the cabin as Lynn coughed at the irritant dust that invaded her nasal orifice.

File: or88ur1TGK1vcrz4co1_1280.jpg (526 KB, 1280x1826)

526 KB JPG

>>3882388
I was more surprised by what laid before my eyes.
As dilapidated as the exterior happened to be, the interior surprisingly resembled a proper military facility.
Straight ahead was a proper hardwood office desk, similar to the ones found in the Kure naval base- minimalistic, drained in color and a bit has worn from constant use, but still readily serving its purpose.

Incredibly detailed sea charts of Palawan and the Gallian East Indies were pinned all over the wall to the left. Each individual chart was littered with notes and scribbles, detailing supply nodes, ocean currents, and little colored pins dotted all over open seas, which I suspect were used to represent naval mines.

A large table was situated right under the wall of charts, and on it was numerous equipment I found myself quite familiar with. One large set of radio occupied most of the tabletop space, its bulky size indicating it was at least a decade older than the one installed on Yamato. At the end of this table was a pile of binders labeled ‘logistics’, and right next to it was a written weather record of the past few days.

The other half of this cabin, in sharp contrast, bore more resemblance someone’s personal living room, had the tenant neglected to clean it for a week. A long couch was set facing the center of the room; its leather had since succumbed to erosion, as bits of fillings leaked out from the tears and lesions. Empty glass bottles littered on the floor next to the couch, and while the contents within had long since dried up, the strong odor of alcohol still lingered like a vengeful revenant. Glascon’s officer coat and uniform laid messily on the leftmost shoulder rest of the couch like a bundle of seaweed.

In a moment’s notice, Lynn’s stepped forward and used herself to obscure our view of the couch.
“S-sorry to make you see this absolute disgrace of our…” She seethed through her grinding teeth, barely containing her embarrassment for Glascon’s unprofessionalism. Once again she found herself apologizing for her commander’s misconduct, to which the three of us were.

“Honored guests, I hereby welcome you to Gallia.”
Lynn’s commander, certainly not the one to focus on appearances, stepped forward to make a bow, then casually tapped her on the right shoulder, as if to say ‘Everything’s fine, let me take it from here’

File: Cvyj73DVYAI1DRv.jpg (65 KB, 550x601)

65 KB JPG

>>3882394
“Ya must be Crowqwa, si?” Glascon turned right towards me with his right hand reaching for a handshake, not making the same misunderstanding as Lynn had earlier.

“Yes.” I stated. Hiding my astonishment at his sharp intuition, I stepped forward to shake his hand. “I am Subaru Kurokawa, acting Captain of the Yamato.”
“Hja, my gutz got it right again!” He laughed heartily as if to congratulate himself on the successful wild guess.

“Here, make yourselves at home.” Glascon gestured at the couch before walking behind the desk and grabbed an overturned wooden chair to set it upright. And making himself comfortable he did- once sitting in the chair, Glascon rested his legs on the desk before him, then seemingly began rummaging the drawers of the desk.
“Aha!”
With an exclamation of delight, the Gallian produced a bottle of dark amber liquid alongside a few small shot glasses, setting them onto the table.
“Anyone care for a welcoming toast?” He held the bottle up high and began pouring into the small glasses “Here’s some rum. If alcohol doesn’t suit yer fancy, we have coconuts.”
Once he had poured all four glasses full of the beverage, he raised one of the glasses right towards me.
“I’ll start. Saúde!”
In one gulp, the eccentric Gallian downed the glass of strong alcohol, followed by a long, satisfied grunt.

Itaru was unable to hide his grin, almost as if the shared the same sense of humor.

On the contrary, Lynn’s attitude had slowly but surely began wearing off ever since her commander entered the scene. Having stayed the formal and professional soldier since we met, every so often I could catch a glimpse of embarrassment gradually progressing into sparks of anger, as visible as the veins emerging on her forehead.

The act of Glascon bringing out the rum and drinking in broad daylight ended up becoming the straw that broke the camel’s back, as Lynn’s patience finally running out.
Lynn marched forwards with heavy steps, each boot crashing down and shaking the cabin’s rotted wooden floor. Now enveloped with near-murderous anger, the Darcsan officer stormed up to her commander and seized his arm while he readied to fill another glass.

Her commander’s reaction was equally as amusing. As if he was suddenly reduced to that guilty kid who broke his neighbor’s window with a faulty pitch, he immediately dropped the bottle with an ‘oops’ look on his face. Next, in an astonishing display of strength, Lynn picked the man right off the chair by his wrist, then stormed right out the door of the cabin, dragging her brawny and much taller commander along like a ragdoll.

File: 48236253_p0.jpg (492 KB, 1024x768)

492 KB JPG

>>3882402
…
…

Eyes wide, I watched the events unfolded with equal amounts of awe and confusion. As the cabin door slammed shut behind Lynn, I turned to my two companions for their input, only to be met with the same bewilderment on their faces.

Moments later, Glascon Trastámara returned from the door, his apparel slightly fixed from earlier and his face now glowing red with a visible handprint on his left cheek.
Lynn returned as well, standing by his side with the same displeased expression on her face. With a bump on the elbow by Lynn, Glascon cleared his throat and stood at attention, giving us a salute.

“Let us start over. Welcome, our honored camaradas of Zipang!”

The sudden shift in the atmosphere made me quite uneasy until I remembered this was how our meeting was supposed to be conducted in the first place.
“I believe there iz no need for further introductions. Tell us what you need, and we will deliver.”
Glascon continued, conducting himself much more professionally this time, almost passable as a proper officer, had it not been for the handprint on his face.

“Feel free to ask about anything else too. We’ll answer to our best extent.” Lynn added, her expression finally easing up after beating her superior to shape.


Pick 3
>What is the plan now? Our enemy would most likely come in guns blazing knowing that we’re here
>Who is really in charge here? What is the catch?
>When can we get transported to a harbor large enough to house Yamato?
>So that mine back there, what is it? We weren’t able to detect them despite being so close to it.
>We should try to improve the transmission quality of our comms, could we use that fort? (+1 to Yamato’s next combat roll)
>Is it possible to give us a complete defensive layout of this area? (+1 to Itaru’s next combat roll)
>What is that humongous gyroplane parked outside? I think we have something similar(+1 to Hibari’s next combat roll)
>Write In

>>3882406
>What is the plan now? Our enemy would most likely come in guns blazing knowing that we’re here
>Who is really in charge here? What is the catch?
>Is it possible to give us a complete defensive layout of this area? (+1 to Itaru’s next combat roll)

>>3882406
>What is the plan now? Our enemy would most likely come in guns blazing knowing that we’re here
>Who is really in charge here? What is the catch?
>We should try to improve the transmission quality of our comms, could we use that fort? (+1 to Yamato’s next combat roll)

I suspect we're going to be engaging them right here if the minefield is anything to go by.

>>3882406
>Who is really in charge here? What is the catch?
>When can we get transported to a harbor large enough to house Yamato?
>So that mine back there, what is it? We weren’t able to detect them despite being so close to it.

>>3882406
>What is the plan now? Our enemy would most likely come in guns blazing knowing that we’re here
>Who is really in charge here? What is the catch?
>We should try to improve the transmission quality of our comms, could we use that fort? (+1 to Yamato’s next combat roll)

>>3882406
>What is the plan now? Our enemy would most likely come in guns blazing knowing that we’re here
>Who is really in charge here? What is the catch?
>We should try to improve the transmission quality of our comms, could we use that fort? (+1 to Yamato’s next combat roll)

I suppose Cordelia just dumped all her incompetent military officials halfway across the globe after the events VC2.

>>3883525
Lynn at least looks somewhat competent. Also if the games are anything to go by, don't expect much from Gallia's high command

File: 1553529535784.jpg (953 KB, 1181x1748)

953 KB JPG

“What are your terms?” I asked calmly, careful to maintain my composure to not let slip of how nervous I really am. “Surely your nation would demand something in return.”
It is only reasonable that these sort of nationwide pacts always come with an equivalent exchange. The fact that they were willing to go this far in supporting a lone rebel faction, even risking a war with the mightiest power in Asuwa, meant that they definitely had demands on their own end of equal magnitude. Right now, I could only think of one- the super battleship herself.
“Terms, si?” The Gallian commander rubbed his chin. “We’ll supply you with all you neet, ant you’ll hjelp us fight our common enemy and defent my country. Simple.”

My eyes narrowed to a faint scowl. Glascon’s answer felt as if he was intentonally playing dumb so to avoid answering my inquiry. As a matter of fact, I don’t even think Glascon is the one who negotiated the terms with Captain Suwabe in the first place. Before I proceed agree to this cooperation, I need to be sure that I am fully aware of what we would be committing to. I may have to dig around for a bit.

“Who’s really in charge here?”
“I am.” He answered with a sly, almost taunting grin, letting the words hang on for a second before continuing. “For now, at least. Pops is busy with whatever that bureaucratic jumbo he got himself into.”
Glascon clicked his tongue, as if he was recalling a rather unpleasant memory, but quickly returned to his carefree self.
“You’ll meet him soon enough, en su momento.”

I can only assume this ‘pops’ Glascon brought up must be his superior, and perhaps the person with the answers to my questions. The lack of his presence here or direct ways to contact him meant I am unlikely to receive any further information.

“Very well.” I nodded and moved on to the next topic. “What are our plans now? The Beiyang Fleet more than likely is aware of our current whereabouts.”
“They’ll be coming down on us guns blazing. That’s from experience.” Hibari added, crossing her arms before her chest.

“Let them come!” The Gallian commander’s mouth curled into a grin, elated to hear such news. “We’ve prepared enough fireworks for a Nochevieja!”
I assume he was referring to the naval mines in the waters we navigated earlier. While I had little confidence in Glascon’s capabilities whatsoever, I do believe in the low observability and destructiveness of the Gallian naval mines.
I reckon even Lady Sima would run into trouble trying to get past that minefield, especially when this garden of explosives is maintained regularly.

File: 9563f1726781cc79951ffafb0(...).jpg (176 KB, 882x913)

176 KB JPG

>>3892644
“You seem quite confident, Trastámara-dono. I suppose your plan is to stop them right here?”
“My job is to stall any advancing enemies that come for these islands.” He replied casually, walking in front of the sea chart pinned with numerous locations of the sea mines. “You, my camaradas, could help provide some much-needed firepower.”

“I see, but cooperation would be difficult if we can’t communicate with each other on the battlefield.”
“True.” Glascon held a hand under his chin, possibly reflecting on the terrible signals between us earlier that almost ended up in disaster. “What can we do?”
“We could build a radio relay somewhere,” I suggested, recalling the ideal high point we saw earlier. “Could you lend us that fort on the cliff?”
“She’s all yours, Amigo.” The Gallian commander agreed without a second thought, then waved his hand to bring the attention of his Darcsen subordinate.

“Lynn, show our guests around.” He followed with an order. “They’ll be staying with us for a while, so make sure they’re familiar with how things work around here.”
“Roger.” Lynn nodded, once again taking the task of a tour guide without protest. “This way please.”

As the three of us stood up from the couch and headed her way, we were halted by her commander just as we passed by - more specifically, Hibari was stalled by him with an incredibly out of place gesture.
“Excuse me, señorita,” Glascon leaned forward and stretched his right-hand palm up towards Hibari, as if to invite her to dance. “May I treat you to my ride, the most advanced aerial transport Gallia has to offer?”

Hibari froze at the spot, eyes staring wide at this highly unanticipated, over the top invitation. Needless to say, so did I.
“Very well, I am quite interested to see what the motherland of aviation has to offer.” A short moment later, Hibari snapped back and replied in monotone with a shrug, right before Lynn was about to step in and intervene.

“We can go for a spin too, if you’d like.” Glascon quickly reinforced his invitation amidst his success, aiming to take it even farther.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to respectfully decline on that. There are more important matters at hand.” Hibari straight-up turned down his advances, albeit remaining more courteous and calm than I had anticipated, given her past exchanges with others.

While Glascon’s invitation wasn’t warmly received by any means, it was nevertheless surprising that Hibari actually took up his offer. Hibari’s interest when it comes to aviation was clear, but I didn’t for a second expected her to sit well with the Gallian Commander’s attitude. In fact, he seemed to be the sort of person she would actively detest.

File: 62891686_p0.png (823 KB, 1054x670)

823 KB PNG

>>3892653
“Oh! Have fun, Hibari-chan!”
Itaru certainly did not have a problem with this arrangement, happily waving farewell as our small group split temporarily.
“Laters.”
Hibari returned likewise, bidding us farewell before leaving. There was no anger in her words nor her eyes; in fact, she even seemed a bit happy with the arrangement.
I, on the other hand, still held some doubts about whether leaving Hibari alone with the frivolous officer was the right choice.

“Shirataki-senpai, are you sure leaving Koishimizu-senpai alone with the Gallian is a good idea?” I whispered to Itaru as we followed Lynn out the cabin and into the wilderness.
Noticing the concern in my tone, he quickly wrapped me in his typical friendly headlock. Sometimes I do wonder how he manages to stay as optimistic like this.
“Don’t worry, she’s fully capable of handling it by herself.”

I nodded quietly in agreement. Truth be told, Itaru knew Hinari much better than I did. If he had confidence in Hibari handling the situation, then maybe I should too. Furthermore, repairing our damaged aircraft is one of our main priorities, and the Gallians may just have the answer.

Our Darcsen guide was less than supportive of this decision, as expressed with her long, taxing sigh.

“What is it, Lieutenant?”
“That moron is going to make a fool of himself again.” She lamented with teeth clenched, then kicks up a small pile of dust to illustrate her frustration. “This isn’t how…”
Noticing that she was again delving into emotions in front of us, Lynn quickly halted her words and straightened back to her professional self.
“Sorry, I got a bit carried away,” she apologized, then pointed at an uphill dirt path to the immediate left of the cabin. “This way, please.”

Lynn strolled forth in quick steps as Itaru freed me from his grasp for us to catch up.
The path we took lead us up a small hill near the outskirts of the jungle, its hilltop cleared out and visibly maintained regularly. Though the rustling of leaves still echoed in the air above, the salty scent of the seaside never diminished, suggesting that this hill hugged the coastline.

“We’re almost there.” She notified, hiking up another step. “I will be showing you our weather station. It’s nothing special, but it works fine, just like most things we have in the East Indies.”

>Ask about her relationship with her commander.
>Ask about the incredible burst of strength she displayed earlier
>Ask about the scope of involvement Mainland Gallia is projected to give
>Ask whether or not Glascon is actually Gallian.
>Write in

>>3892660
>Ask about the scope of involvement Mainland Gallia is projected to give

>>3892660
>Ask about the incredible burst of strength she displayed earlier

>>3892660
>Ask about her relationship with her commander.

>>3892660
>Ask about the scope of involvement Mainland Gallia is projected to give

>>3892660
>Ask about the scope of involvement Mainland Gallia is projected to give

Also whoever this "Pops" guy is. Lynn is more likely to give us a much unambiguous answer.

File: Lynn_2.jpg (143 KB, 850x920)

143 KB JPG

>>3895801
>>3895698
>>3892692
“So, since conflict with the Khaganate is inevitable, may I assume the Gallian mainland would be involved in this conflict too?”
Upon bringing up this topic, Lynn suddenly halted her footsteps just a couple of meters away from the top of the dirt hill.

“Right, about that…”
Lynn turned around to face us, her eyes wavering as she took in the question.
“Our high command have yet to receive any decisive words from the mainland.”
High command? Perhaps I can finally learn of the details that Glascon had previously eluded.
“Could you elaborate, lieutenant? Who is in charge of defending these islands?”

“Sir Claudius von Roswell, Commodore of the East Indies Fleet. He and Governor von Metternich have been negotiating with the mainland on the matter, but so far the responses were... not supportive.”
The Darcsen bit down on her lip, addressing the last part with visible anxiety.

“So that’s the ‘bureaucracy’ your commander brought up earlier.” Itaru nodded in acknowledgement. “Honestly, I thought Gallians would be a bit more…”
“Patriotic? Nationalistic? I assure you that spirit burns as brightly as ever.” Lynn tensed as a surge of emotion seemed to wash over her like a tidal wave.

“We Gallians are a hardy bunch, just like the little country we inhabit. Everyone’s more than willing to pick up a rifle, head to the frontlines, and get torn into shreds in trenches to defend our homeland.
Why? Because we were born there, grew up there, and are sure as hell willing to die there if that’s the last thing we do.”

Her expression softens, as if the strong emotions had suddenly dispossessed her.

“But the Civil War… It scarred our country far deeper than what’s visible to the eye.”
From her tone, I could tell those words weren’t coming from spite, but from a deep sense of helplessness.

“Following the conflict, my country has grown exceedingly weary of war. With the old wounds still healing, coupled with the current political environment and how far we are from the mainland...”
Lynn paused for a moment and took a deep breath, then summed up her accounts.
“The odds are against us, to say the least.”

“Ouch.”
That brought a look of concern onto Itaru’s face. Scratching the back of his head, he opted not to delve further into the topic, and I guess it’ll be better if I followed suite.

“But rest assured, we will not be short on manpower.” She assured us with a smile. “The East Indies is by no means small, and the local populace are more than willing to take a stand for their homeland.”

>I cannot believe a nation would readily abandon its dominion as easily as that.
>Weren’t the revolutionaries exceptionally hostile to people with the same complexion as us?
>So Commander Trastamara isn’t ethnically Gallian after all?
>Write in.

Alright, so this will be the end of this session. The next thread will be starting off immediately through the choices made for this last update. It may also take a while for a new thread since the contents for that are quite long by estimates. I'll make sure to notify things on twatter once things are set in stone.

Thanks for reading, and I'll be getting to the archiving this thread.

>>3903993
>I cannot believe a nation would readily abandon its dominion as easily as that.

>>3903993
>I cannot believe a nation would readily abandon its dominion as easily as that.
They should just do what they did in the VC4 northern campaign and send in volunteers. Actually, Lynn could very well be one of those volunteers.

>>3904064
It's likely that the mainlanders are just more detached to the colonies, especially if few of the inhabitants share the same culture or ethnic makeup.