Day 64

The day of Operation First-Contact had arrived. My forces marched to the beach and organized around the docks, a hasty overnight assembly born from the realization that we needed them for the destroyers. It would hardly be an orderly departure if the destroyers clogged up the whole beach like a swarm of crabs.

Gneisenau led the procession at the front, her voice ringing out as she shouted orders, preparing everyone to set off for Japan.

Nervousness gnawed at my insides, but who could blame me? My beloved children were about to sail into the shark's mouth with no promise of a safe return. What if the Japanese didn't accept our offer? What if they refused and attacked us instead? The thought of losing any of them was unbearable.

My mind screamed with anxiety, each thought a sharp pang, like the tolling of klaxon bells. Above, the sky rumbled in empathy, a dark, roiling mass on the brink of bursting, ready to drown my small island in a deluge.

Gneisenau's voice cut through the tension. "We are ahead of schedule, wúnderbar. Form up and prepare to set sail."

Mana looked up from her task, somehow stuffing a metal crate into a small backpack that defied physics. "Admiral, should we adopt the standard formation?"

"Neín." Gneisenau shook her head. "Adopt arrowhead formation and inform Battlegroup Kamikaze to do the same. I will lead from the front with the destroyers covering our flanks and rear."

"Understood." Mana nodded, relaying the orders as the abyssals grouped up in preparation for departure.

I left my office, a storm brewing overhead as I went to see them off. Ruby was the first to spot me, tears welling in her eyes. "You came!"

Gently, I shook my head. "Don't cry. I should be the one shedding tears. You're going to make me look bad."

She laughed, a watery sound, and wiped the tears from her face with the back of her hand. "Hah, sorry."

"Don't be." I smiled, bittersweet. "It's only natural to cry when leaving home for the first time."

"See, you all should trust me more. I told you she would see us off." Mana's sly grin spread across her face.

Laughter bubbled up from within me as I met Mana's gaze, my eyes shining with affection. "Keep that sharp mind of yours, and remember, you're as much a person as you are a ship."

Her smile radiated like the sun breaking through clouds. "I won't forget."

A flurry of farewells filled the air, and finally, only my sole companion remained. Our eyes locked, a fleeting moment charged with unspoken emotion. With a nod, I conveyed all that needed to be said.

We understood our duties, and the command link would keep us connected despite the distance.

As their silhouettes faded into the fiery hues of the setting sun, I turned back toward my office, my steps purposeful. Work awaited me, and there was no time to waste.

Day 67

The rebuilt base loomed over the island, its knife-shaped structure piercing the night sky like an obsidian blade in the hands of an ancient titan. Construction drones darted through the darkness, their luminescent trails painting the heavens with a kaleidoscope of vibrant hues.

Turning from the window, I focused on the chaotic mess of papers strewn across my desk. Complex mathematical diagrams covered the table, their corners adorned with cryptic squiggles reminiscent of a physician's illegible scrawl. Project Anzu had grown far beyond its initial scope, evolving into a monumental undertaking. The name, a stroke of inspiration, seemed to capture the essence of the endeavor perfectly.

Anzu was destined to become the world's first flying battleship—a glass cannon of sorts. Unlike its seafaring counterparts, this long-range sniper would rely on advanced camouflage and near-immunity to target locks for survival. The vessel needed to soar at incredible altitudes, far above the reach of conventional weapons.

With no regard for cost, I had taken my original helicarrier concept to new heights, transforming Anzu into a spaceship equipped with the hovering capabilities of my drones. The challenges of space differed vastly from those in the atmosphere, necessitating extensive revisions to the design. Countless iterations later, the ship now boasted massive rocket boosters, engineered to propel it into geostationary orbit. When not relying on its rockets for acceleration, Anzu could levitate at speeds under 20 mph, providing a versatile range of movement.

To ensure the ship's longevity, I had incorporated limited self-repair capabilities. A single spawn pool housed a modest number of construction and ORE drones, tasked with repairing damage, synthesizing essential items, and gathering resources as needed. This self-sufficiency would prove invaluable during extended missions in the unforgiving void of space.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Antique computers, grossly oversized for the simple tasks they needed to handle, calculated the orbital trajectories. As a spoiled 21st-century princess, I couldn't help but scoff at the outdated technology. Still, the math checked out, and the bulky calculator on the bridge would take care of any issues that arose.

Almost as an afterthought, I added advanced radar, LiDAR sensors, and an array of visual telescopes to provide comprehensive information about the ship's surroundings.

Finally, I turned my attention to the weaponry. The temptation to stock the ship full of nuclear missiles, creating a superweapon to put all others to shame, briefly crossed my mind. Nukes were undeniably amazing for obliterating enemies, but other considerations gave me pause. Even with low-radiation air-burst detonations, the international backlash from using such a weapon would be catastrophic. World War III would be inevitable.

Determined to find a solution, I delved into the realm of mad science. Buried in my library of Cold War tech, I stumbled upon the defunct Project Excalibur. This ambitious pipedream had aimed to funnel the power of nuclear bombs into X-ray lasers. Though the project had ultimately failed, its research proved invaluable for my needs.

The ORE drone's laser deconstructed matter and reconstituted it into a refined form through arcane, otherworldly science. I harnessed this technology as the core of my new superweapon: a colossal cannon filled with an ammunition belt of three-kiloton nuclear shells. When a shell detonated inside the cannon, the ORE laser absorbed the undesirable effects while the surrounding X-rays funneled the short-wave laser into a second ORE drone beam emitter. The result? A devastating wave of energy surging towards the target.

But the superweapon was just the beginning. Alongside it, a vast array of auxiliary weapons stood ready, including a multitude of Tomahawk missiles for atmospheric combat and twenty 155mm M109 cannons.

For point defense, the S-60 cannons formed a formidable line. Each fired a 57mm HE shell up to 6,000 meters with a sustained rate of fire around 70 RPM. Over seventy of these cannons bristled along the nearly mile-and-a-half-long monstrosity.

Perhaps I have gone overboard.

Building this leviathan would devour an immense amount of resources—far more than I currently possessed. To even dream of constructing such a ship, I estimated needing a dozen ORE Procurers and millions of drones.

Fortunately, I was already a quarter of the way there.

Raleigh's addition to my forces had bolstered the economy like never before. Over a million drones buzzed in service, and three ORE Procurers roamed the seas. I had delegated the naming of future ships to Raleigh, as there would soon be too many for me to handle alone. Even with my capabilities, I could only be in so many places at once—at least for now. Delegation had become crucial.

With a mental ping, I requested a status report from the newly christened ORE-Mining group.

Production had skyrocketed by 2000% and continued to climb. Seven more Procurers were under construction as well. Excellent.

Gazing out my office window at the distant horizon, a grin spread across my face. Everything was falling into place.

Day 68

One of my drones had discovered undersea internet cables, a find that slightly altered my short-term plans. If I could somehow tap into the internet directly, I wouldn't need to rely on the Japanese to maintain contact with civilization—a crucial backup plan if my primary schemes went awry.

As I dove into the crystal-clear depths, heading for the coordinates, the ocean's wonders captivated me, slowing my descent. The water was a crystalline sapphire, shimmering with the sunlight that filtered through from above. Schools of fish, their scales glinting like jewels, darted in mesmerizing unison. Their gentle movements whispered a soft, rhythmic welcome, a stark reminder of how my senses had evolved beyond human limits.

A vibrant coral reef caught my attention, its kaleidoscope of life on full display. Purple sea fans swayed with the currents, while clownfish peeked out from the safety of their anemone sanctuaries. The reef burst with color—a breathtaking mosaic of reds, oranges, and blues painting the underwater landscape.

A manta ray glided by, its wings undulating with fluid grace. I hovered in awe for a moment, watching it soar through the water like a silent, shadowy bird of the sea. The cool, salty water against my skin invigorated me, filling me with a sense of calm and wonder.

Tiny bubbles from the depleting air in my lungs rose steadily, creating a trail of silvery pearls that drifted to the surface. It didn't matter; I no longer required air to breathe.

The ocean's vastness stretched out before me, an endless expanse teeming with life and mystery. I hummed a soft background note to the symphony of marine sounds—the distant songs of whales, the clicks and whistles of dolphins, and the occasional crackle of snapping shrimp.

No one could properly appreciate this with their muted senses. I pitied my former species.

As I approached the site, the cables came into view, black and thick with green rings. I studied them for several minutes with my available sensors, then sighed.

Tapping into these would require robbing an electronics store. For now, this was a dead end.

Day 69

Siren shifted uncomfortably under my scrutiny, beads of sweat forming on her brow. I waited patiently for her confession, and it came tumbling out mere moments later.

"I messed up," she admitted, her voice quavering as tears threatened to spill from her eyes.

"Mhm." I nodded slowly. "And what exactly did you do?"

"I punched Raleigh." She hung her head in shame.

"Why?" I pressed, keeping my tone even.

A sniffle escaped her. "She said you loved her more than me."

Heat flared in my chest at the accusation. "That isn't true," I insisted, my words sharp and fierce. "I love you all equally. I'll talk to Raleigh and set the record straight."

"O-okay." Siren wiped at her face with the back of her hand. She turned to leave, casting a forlorn glance over her shoulder before quietly shutting the door behind her.

A heavy sigh slipped past my lips as I leaned back in my chair. Dealing with the emotional ups and downs of children was always a challenge.

Pushing the incident from my mind, I focused on the task at hand. With a mere thought, I connected to one of the construction drones toiling away on a massive radio tower to the south. The project had been underway for quite some time, but at last, tangible progress was being made.

A thrill of anticipation surged through me. Soon, very soon, the sweet sounds of rock music would once again grace my ears. I couldn't help but grin at the prospect.

Hell yeah!