“Pitch up! Twenty degrees!”

Returning to the bridge, Serena had been greeted by the familiar air of pre-battle tension. There was no changing plans now, no more debating and theory-crafting over maps of defenses. They were locked in, their hand having been dealt and the dice thrown.

Port Highwind was an important logistic hub for the Republic, through which demonkind had long suspected aid was funneled in from the other human nations. It was the largest island of the archipelago, floating three klicks above the lumina. Despite its importance, due to its ability to act as a supply hub for the front line, the port only kept a squadron of frigates and interceptors.

Even that was somewhat impressive, considering the state of the war. It wasn’t the frigates that were the port’s primary protection, those scouts and light-ships were mostly there to send early warning to the Republic’s reserve fleets, which would scramble from the air-staging bases in the north, thirty klicks out. No, it was the static defenses that secured the low-lying port’s security.

If their information was correct, they could expect the battlements of Port Highwind to be laden with no less than forty-two six-and-a-half-inch artillery systems, paired with several dozen lighter anti-air turrets. That heavy artillery could fire a shell over thirty kilometers and, given Port Highwind’s open sky, it was easy shooting at any imperial ships that came close. Battleships would be hammered before their own guns got in range, and lighter craft would be shredded by the flak rounds.

However, the port had a weakness that only the Vengeance could take advantage of; its low-sky position. Any other ship would be unable to get close to the supply hub, either spotted by the screen of scouts, detected by the port’s aetherscopes, or simply seen from their watchtowers.

But a ship that could travel into the lumina? It was something that wasn’t supposed to be possible, yet the Vengeance did it anyway, and now the ship was a half-klick from the port, making its final moves before the battle would begin. The stormtroopers were loaded and her escort frigates reporting the all-clear.

It was time.

The moment the propellers were clear of the thicker lumina fog, Serena gave the order.

“Flank speed!”

“Flank speed!” yelled the helmsman, pushing the lever that controlled the ship's speed all the way to the red zone, where someone had written ‘Danger!’ along with a skull and crossbones.

“Flank speed!” roared the chief engineer, screaming down the speaking tube. The ship shuddered and its hull creaked as new forces took hold, and the deep hum of the lift and propulsion engine could be heard, even here in the bridge, as every knot of speed was forced out of them. The noise would be deafening in the engine room, but alas, the engineers didn’t need to hear, they just needed to keep the engines from blowing.

They broke out of the lumina like a great arcwhale breaching a cloud. The ship’s bow pointed steeply up and through the port-side bridge windows Serena could see the reinforced wall of the defenses looming, artillery barrels poking out, appearing like shadows from this angle beneath the sun.

Communications worked quickly.

"Abyss one, three, and four confirmed! Abyss five… six, confirmed!” Her tacticians placed magnetic icons representing the defenses on the map of the port, their position having been verified visually. Looked like their information was good.

“Armed tower at chalice one! Armed tower at jinx three!” Information flooded in from communications to the tacticians and weapons officer, who would prioritize and delegate targeting of the ship's cannons.

“Weapons free!” Serena gave the order.

“Weapons free! Hit the towers!” repeated the weapons officer.

“Launch escorts!”

“Escorts away!”

As she saw the six barrels turn, selecting their targets, the squadron of escort fighters, painted a deep red, screamed past. A moment later the guns roared to life in a thunderous symphony of destruction, as if the ship itself was breathing fire and fury. The bridge was heavily armored but the vibrations could be still be felt throughout the steel and wood structure.

A moment of silence, the briefest period of violent calm as the sound of the guns died, and then came the telltale sounds of destruction as their explosive shells found the isolated watch towers, blasting huge holes in and through them, causing their collapse.

The Vengeance's engines hummed as it tore towards mid-sky. Just as the ship was about to come level with the defenses, Serena shouted out the next stage of their attack plan.

“Release gliders!”

“Releasing gliders!”

Their stormtroopers, nearly two hundred of them, were crammed like coals in a furnace in the dozen gliders they had attached to the Vengeance. These heavily armored gliders, as the name suggested, had no propulsion of their own and served merely to keep the demons inside alive as they transited to their targets. Luckily demons were made of sterner stuff than most squishy humans, for these gliders less glided and more crash-landed.

A shout rang out, “Gliders released!” Each squad of troops would aim to guide their transport as close as possible to their prearranged destinations. Their velocity would carry the gliders, and the troops within them, in an arc over the walls and into the port.

In reality, many of them would fall short or overshoot their targets and the soldiers would need to improvise, the ability to do so determined who was picked as a squad commander or not.

Just as the last shout faded, the Vengeance cleared the defenses. The ship, being pitched up twenty degrees, meant the port wasn’t yet visible through the bridge windows.

“Level out!”

The side observation rooms, as well as the under-hull observation pods, would be able to see clearly, and soon information came streaming into the bridge.

“Abyss seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven and thirteen, verified! Armed watchtower at chalice seven, chalice nine!” The weapons officer and his subordinates hurried to coordinate the under-hull guns, while the tacticians hurried to add and remove models from the map.

“Communications! Find their staging! Navigation! Get us turning! Roll thirty degrees!”

“Yes, Captain!” The two officers responded and a flurry of commands was given out. She intended to put the Vengeance in a circular turn, low and within the boundaries of the port's ringed defenses, relying on surprise and firepower to destroy the fleet-endangering static artillery. The ship groaned as it rolled and every demon in the room had to adjust their limbs so the thirty-degree tilt wouldn’t throw them to the floor.

“Staging found! Three… belay that! Four light craft identified! Grid six by eleven!” Communications shouted out, causing Serena to cast a look at the map on the table below her, identifying the location. They had found the air staging platforms for the port's fighter squadron. Some would be out forming a scout screen, no doubt hurrying to return as their aetherscopes picked up the Vengeance’s engines. The rest, however, were landed at the staging towers, idle.

“Weapons! Prioritize the staging! Grid six by eleven!”

“Aye, Captain! Grid six by eleven!” The weapons officer shouted into a speaker tube. A few painful seconds later the guns re-aligned, the roll of the ship allowing them a straight shot to the other side of the port. All was still for a moment and then the shuddering crescendo of the guns sounded as a broadside, followed by another and then another, launched explosive shells into the grid square containing the staging towers, bringing them down like they were made of matchsticks.

“Good work! Weapons! Focus the battlements! We’ll do a full circle!” There were at least forty-two static defenses on the walls, and it was required for these to be non-functional or captured for the final part of the plan. Another explosion flashed across the bridge windows as one of her fighters hit the stored munitions in one of the watchtowers, blowing it into oblivion.

An air siren finally started to ring out, the element of surprise now lost. It was faint on the bridge but would be impossible to ignore in the port. Every Republican soldier and sailor would be rushing to battle stations. It was a race against the clock, to disable those guns before they could finish the laborious task of turning them inwards.

“Captain! Aetherfield! Three signatures! Bearing one-ninety! Two’o’clock! Eight klicks!” Sensors shouted out. The scouts they had stealthed past were returning, now in range of the Vengeance’s aetherscopes.

“Notify the fighters!”

“Yes, Captain!”

“Turret one jammed!” The weapons officer exclaimed, the turret in question falling silent while its brothers and sisters kept up the staccato of shell fire.

“Turret one!” screamed the chief engineer down one of the many speaking tubes in front of him. “Make haste!”

“Abyss twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-eight confirmed destroyed!”

A bead of sweat fell into Serena’s eye, but she refused to blink. She couldn’t miss a thing. A battle as risky as this meant seconds could make the difference between success and failure.

“Taking fire! Starboard under-hull!” A voice shouted. Something from inside the port was hitting them.

“Anathor!” yelled Serena.

“Holding, captain!” The stuffed windlizard yelled back, “It’s only flak! They haven’t time to load anything else!”

“Weapons! Get the under-hull guns on it!”

“Aye, Captain!”

Thankfully they weren’t being hit by armor-piercing rounds, all thanks to their point-blank surprise attack. A fortress like Port Highwind would have its defense strategy centered around a flak screen first, expecting to engage an attacker at range before needing to switch to something more solid.

“Abyss thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, destroyed!”

“Watchtowers destroyed!”

“Captain!” Announced the ground tactician, “We’ve secured the gatehouses!” Port Highwind’s walls could only be accessed through a gatehouse, one in each cardinal direction. These were the primary objectives of the stormtroopers, whose landings would have only added to the confusion and chaos.

Now, with the gatehouses secured, they would own the walls, and with it, the port.

“Deck cannons! Ceasefire! Tell the troops to take the walls!” She gave the order. No need to destroy the remaining artillery if they could capture it. It was a better result than she had dared hope for.

“Yes, Captain!” came the chorus of replies.

“Turret one back up!” yelled the chief engineer.

“Hmm… we’re not getting hit by flak anymore, Captain!” Anathor declared, “Looks like we got them!”

“Captain!” The ground tactician shouted, “We failed to take the citadel! Squad six and seven took heavy casualties!”

“Pull them back!” Serena ordered, “What are we looking at!?”

“Somewhere between fifty and a hundred Republicans holding up in there. We’ve destroyed the rooftop guns but storming it will be costly, and…” the tactician paused for a moment, “it’s where they funnelled all the civilians!”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

Serena couldn’t help biting her tongue. She could order them to bring the citadel down, killing everyone inside, soldiers and civilians alike. Part of her wanted to do it, and some captains would have already given the order.

But, that would make her no better than the humans.

An image from her childhood threatened to surface in her mind, but she squashed it down. Now was not the time.

“Finish securing the walls! Keep one of the under-hull guns shooting sporadically at the citadel. Keep them panicking and from having any bright ideas!”

Several more large explosions hit the port, as stores of munitions were detonated by stray shells or sabotage from the ground squads. There was no point in trying to secure the munitions for themselves, human calibers were not compatible with demon guns.

A minute passed and reports came in of mass surrendering of the unlucky soldiers that were on the walls when the attack started. Those that weren’t cut down in the shell fire would quickly find any further resistance useless, surrounded by the ground forces and the Vengeance circling above them.

Other than the citadel, a few pockets of resistance sprang up, stubbornly holding on to the false hope of a reprieve. These locations were identified and a few rounds of the ship’s deck guns were more than enough to quench them.

“What about the scouts?” She asked the sensors officer. Having seen how the battle was going it was possible they would flee, to inform Republican headquarters of the attack. It was likely one or two of them had already broken off out of aetherscope range, and there was nothing to be done about that.

“Three signatures! Bearing one-eighty! One klick! Three’o’clock! Wait, they’re breaking off… Captain! Torpedoes! Incoming!”

She swore. “Pitch down! Level out!” She commanded, trying to get the ship out of its roll so it could face as much of its thicker side armor towards the threat as possible. Torpedoes! Damn the seven hells! When had the humans put a torpedo on light-craft!?

Serena did the mental math, a torpedo launch at half a klick away, that gave them…

No time at all.

She saw, eyes widening, as the first torpedo flew past the front deck, and a moment later the left side of the deck was engulfed in a tremendous explosion as another one slammed into the ship's armor, ripping through it like paper, throwing out blue flame and light that, for a moment, blinded her vision.

Serena was thrown to the deck, the shock wave too much, her ears ringing from the deafening sounds. It didn’t end though, as the explosions kept coming.

“Secondaries!” a voice cried out from somewhere in the bridge, almost too faint to hear, as another huge explosion ripped turret three from the ship's structure, flipping it through the air like a coin, its munitions detonating catastrophically.

An alarm rang out. Anathor was saying something but she couldn’t hear him.

The helmsman was on the floor, in a daze. Seven hells! Serena gritted her teeth, forcing herself to her feet, and grabbed the helmsman’s station. She turned the ship, trying to rotate it so the damaged armor wasn’t vulnerable to another hit.

If the Vengeance was a battleship, it would be too slow to respond, but it was a light cruiser with its engines running hot, and thankfully the torpedo had hit near the bow of the ship and not the engines. It responded quickly, and as Serena turned the ship she saw, through the smoke and fire on deck, two of the enemy fighters had been shot down with the third being chased by the escorts.

“Damage report! Anathor!” Her hearing was slowly returning.

“Captain!” The guardian of the ship cried out. “We closed the bulkheads! We stopped it chain-reacting to the other turrets! We have fires to put out! Decks one, two, three, and five! It’s a big hole! What the hell was that torpedo!?”

During times of crisis, Anathor would speak like this, using the term we to refer to himself and the ship. Serena didn’t quite know if she should treat the ship as a person or… something else.

“Well done!” She shouted, “…casualties!?”

“Dead gunners, dead engineers, Captain! We have wounded! Two dozen sailors, maybe more!”

“Tomes and Dagon? The girl?”

“They’re fine! Took a knock on the head! She’s healing them up… oh… what kind of magic is that…”

“Get Dagon here! Keep Tomes and the girl there! I won’t risk her till we have the all clear!”

“Yes, Captain!”

A flash in the distance and Serena saw the final enemy fighter go down. What the hell was that torpedo? They should have only been small torpedoes carrying a small amount of explosives, something the side armor should be able to handle. But that hit like it was a battleship weapon!

“Anathor! Call medical in here!” She shouted out, seeing that a few of the officers and subordinates were groaning. The helmsman also seemed to have a concussion of sorts. “Only a few, send most of them to the impact area! Get the wounded to the med-bay!”

She brought the ship's speed down to half, giving the engines a chance to cool. Running at flank speed, a full sixty knots would eventually blow the engines, as well as burn through inordinate amounts of moon-crystal fueling the aethric combustion.

“Sensors! Anything!”

“Negative!”

“Do we still have fires?”

“Last of them being dealt with, Captain!” They had procedures in place for fire-fighting. Buckets and stockpiles of sand were spread across the ship, and the few sailors who had a talent for the rare art of air magic would do their best to snuff the flames.

“Captain!” A new voice rang out, and a familiar set of rams horns on a bald head appeared. “What the hell happened!”

“Dagon! Some type of new torpedo hit us! Never seen anything like it!” She spat on the floor. “Fired from a light-craft! What have the Republicans come up with now!?”

“Captain, you’re bleeding!” Behind Dagon a wave of medical staff descended on the bridge, tending to injuries and wounds. One of them tried to approach her but she waved them off. As a Speaker she was inherently more resistant to physical damage.

“I’m fine! I want you to take command, I need-“

“The citadel!” Someone yelled out. Serena didn’t bother waiting for a report, instead moving to the starboard observation room and looking herself, leaving the helmsman station for Dagon to handle.

The view took her by surprise. The first torpedo had gone over the deck, the second had hit the ship and she now knew where the third went. One side of the citadel lay in ruins, its bulky walls having collapsed unto itself and an enormous crater signaled where the torpedo had struck. She could just about make out her stormtroopers moving into the building, taking advantage of the chaos to secure the final objective.

She returned to the bridge. With the enemy craft destroyed, the walls secured and the citadel falling, the battle was essentially over.

“Bring us outside the wall, Dagon. South side. We’ll dock up, bring the injured troops on board, and the bodies of the fallen. See what repairs we need.” Serene didn’t want to land the ship inside the port, as it would be vulnerable to sabotage or a surprise attack. Instead, she’d dock against the outside wall, from the direction they attacked from, using the wall as impromptu armor for their weak side.

“In your command.” She ordered Dagon, who saluted.

“Yes, Captain!” He gave her a quizzical look, seeing she hadn’t left the bridge yet. “What else?”

“Send word to the fleet. Tell them the port is captured. Assuming the Republicans got a message out, we’ll have no more than four hours before the response fleet arrives. Our battleships need to be here before that.” She waited for Dagon to affirm before continuing. “I’ll get the human, see if she’s worth what we’re going to pay her,” she quietly finished. The fact she was going to be paying a human had not yet spread amongst the crew.

“Yes, Captain! Captain leaving deck!”

Serena left the bridge and while heading towards her destination she felt the ship’s inertia adjust, as Dagon maneuvered it against the port’s walls. Sailors, some injured and some being carried, passed her in a rush. Serena did the best she could to keep her back straight and chin up. A captain always needed to portray strength and control.

Finding herself at Tome’s quarters she opened the door without knocking.

“Hello!” Amelia bounced up to her like an excited wolfhound. “You’re bleeding! Let me get that for you!” The human reached to touch her head, and Serena grabbed the wrist on reflex.

They stood there, frozen for a moment. Looking at each other. One set of red, crimson eyes narrowed, while another a set of blue orbs, wide.

“Oh?” Amelia said, “Don’t you want me to heal you?”

“… save your aether. We have many injured.” In response to this, the human made a noise of dissatisfaction, putting her remaining hand on her hip.

“Believe me, I have more than enough aether for you, and everyone else! Now let me heal you.” They glared at each other until Selena relented. Her head had started to ache. Even so, she couldn’t help but keep one hand on her sword as Amelia reached for her.

Then, a golden light started flowing from Amelia’s skin. It danced like rays of sun through clouds, and within it, Selena could see hues of royal blue. The spell traveled through Amelia’s arm and suddenly Selena felt comforted, the pain entirely vanishing as warmth spread through her. Unbidden, a memory of being hugged by her mother came to mind, and she felt a tear roll down her cheek.

It quickly faded and in its place, Selena found herself reinvigorated and clear-minded. Amazingly, even the aches of old injuries, her shoulder that liked to twinge, all felt like they were completely cured!

Serena made a few motions, teasing her limbs in ways that would normally trigger a painful response, but finding none came. So, this was the power of a human healer.

“That’s… amazing.” She said softly.

“Mmm!” Amelia nodded enthusiastically. “Glad you liked it!”

A few moments passed in silence, and Serena looked at Amelia in a way she never thought she could ever look at a human. A look of gratitude.

“Captain,” said Tomes, interrupting the moment. “Anathor kept us updated. A torpedo?”

“Yes.” Serena forced herself back into captain mode. “Something new.”

“I fell over when it happened!” Amelia said, “And it was so loud! All the books came off the shelves! Did… a lot of people die?” Serena opened her mouth to chastise the girl, for speaking so casually about her crew, but stopped when she saw, in those blue eyes, a spark of maturity and determination that was not normally present.

“Yes…” Serena said, “and, plenty to heal. Have you signed the contract?”

“Ah, about that, Captain…” Tomes trailed off.

“I can’t read it!” Amelia piped up. “How can I sign something I can’t read?”

“I will read it out to you,” Serena said, “and on the dignity of my name I will not deceive you.” Amelia bit her thumb, seemingly thinking it over.

“Okay!”

“We don’t have time right now. Would you be willing to assist the injured before the contract is signed? We will back-date it to this morning.”

“Sure!” the girl nodded.

“Before that, we need to find you a set of clothes. Tomes?” Amelia was still wearing the simple undergarments she arrived in. It would not do to let a woman walk around the ship showing so much of their body!

Especially one looking like that!

“Aye, Captain,” said Tomes, moving to a wardrobe. “We can’t put her in a proper uniform, her not being part of the crew and all, so I found this.” Tomes fished out a set of clothes. “Republican officer. Only one in her size.” The white and blue clothes were a stark contrast to their dark uniforms. They kept examples of the enemy's uniforms, so soldiers could learn to identify enemy officers in the field. This was one such set.

“I ripped off the military markings and figured we’d get it to a tailor, but it should do for now,” Tomes explained.

“Better than nothing,” Serena said, pointing to the human. “You. Clothes.” She pointed to the washroom. “Quickly.”

“Yes, Captain!” Amelia grabbed the clothes, hugging them tight before disappearing into the side room. As the door closed, Serena turned back to her quartermaster.

“Sent the message to the fleet. They should get here in time if everything is alright on their end. If not… some of the static defenses survived, we’ll have to see if we can scare them off with it.”

Tomes nodded. “With the port ours… their entire flank is vulnerable. They can’t have ever expected they’ll lose it.”

Serena shrugged. “Who knows… This damn proxy war might be over by next year.”

“An end of the war? That would be nice. Depends on what the other human nations do. You’ve heard the rumors, Captain? About the coalition they’re talking about.”

“Tsk! It’s just saber-rattling! They won’t commit, not over a rebelling republic.”

“I hope so, Captain. I hope so.” Tomes cleaned his spectacles, and a moment later the washroom door opened.

“Couldn’t figure out how to tighten the bloody belt!” Amelia said. “How do I look?” She gave a twirl, the neat uniform fitting her form surprisingly well. Its white and blue colors complementing her golden hair and blue eyes.

She looked… looked…

Serena found herself biting her tongue.

“Let’s go,” she said. “Tomes, head to the bridge. I’ll be there after visiting the med-bay.” She looked at Amelia. “Don’t talk to anyone but me. Keep your head down. Don’t look at any crew members in the eyes. So far they only know of you as a captive healer. And for the sake of the fell gods, don’t let anyone know you’re a Speaker!”

“Aye-aye, Captain!” Amelia said, straightening her back and saluting, her face serious yet cheerful.

“And don’t salute me! You’re not part of the crew!”

“Nope! I’m your maid!”

“… Shut up.”

They left, Tomes heading off in one direction while she and Amelia went in another.

“Walk in front of me, like a captive would. I’m going to hold your hair. It will make it look convincing. Try not to look so… happy!” Serena positioned Amelia in front, and pushed her fingers through Amelia’s hair, grabbing it.

She decided to ignore the strange sound that came out of the human.

They walked like that, through the wooden and steel corridors, down towards the med-bay. They didn’t see many sailors, and those they did see would look surprised and some eyes would narrow in disgust but otherwise, no-one said anything to Amelia.

As they approached the med-bay things got more busy. Medical rushed back and forth, carrying water, bandages, and more of the injured. The med-bay was a section of the ship’s third deck, four rooms had been allocated and filled with beds and sanitation equipment. These four rooms were now full of crying, swearing, screaming, and unconscious demons, their injuries the result of that torpedo as well as the ground operations.

“Medical officer!” Serena called, and soon a demon appeared, covered in the blood of a dozen patients. Shorter than her, with stubby horns was Hillbrand, her medical officer and one of the few women on the ship.

“Captain! I… who’s this!?” Hillbrand hissed, glaring at Amelia.

“This brat is the human healer I caught. Figured she could help us out, isn’t that right, human?” She punctuated the end of her sentence by tightening the grip on Amelia’s hair.

Again, she decided to ignore the weird noise she made.

“Hillbrand, where are the most critical casualties?”

“Over here Captain, but Captain, are you sure? A human mage!?”

“Rather do this than have more dead, Officer. Don’t worry, she’s nice and docile.”

And really annoying, she thought to herself.

“Aye Captain… over here.” Hillbrand led them to a line of beds whose occupants were breathing their last. “These haven’t got much life left in them. I gave them something for the pain. Not much else to do, unless this human healer has the aether for it.”

Serena looked at Amelia, who was looking at the dying demons with an expression of shock.

“Well,” she asked, “can you do it?”

“Uh, sorry,” Amelia looked at her, a picture of sadness painted on her face. “I’m not used… it’s okay… I’ll do it. Can you let go, please?”

Serena obliged, releasing her hand, and letting the silky hair leave her fingers. She wasn’t exactly sure about the capability of healers, and how many Amelia, who seemed more capable than most, would be able to heal. If she could mend the worst dozen or two, then they could take it from there.

The human stood quiet, eyes closed.

A moment passed.

“You-!” exclaimed Hillbrand, but Serena put a stop to it with a glare.

“Let her work,” she ordered. She could sense something in Amelia, something building. A spell being prepared. “Say it out loud,” she commanded the human. At first, she thought Amelia hadn’t heard her, but then the human’s eyes opened and she looked at her, a small smile forming.

“Third circle,” she said, her mouth closing, before opening once again.

“Divine healing of Aseco.”

And the room exploded with light.

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