Day 62
My subjects, my kin, moved with renewed vigor, propelled by a newfound sense of purpose. From the window of my office, I observed them scurrying to complete preparations for our inaugural major operation.
Gneisenau leaned back in her chair, feet propped on my table, and took a sip from her cup. "Wunderbar, we certainly motivated them."
I closed my eyes, a blossom of anxiety unfurling in my chest. "You might say that."
"You can't shelter them forever." Gneisenau's words echoed my own thoughts.
My hand rested on the windowsill as I gazed at my girls below. "I know. But it doesn't stop me from worrying." They were like my children; I was their creator, after all.
"I want to hold them close, to protect them from the world's dangers, but I realize that wouldn't be good for them or me," I admitted quietly.
Gneisenau's response cut straight to the core. "As any mother should."
The realization struck me with shocking clarity: I was, indeed, a mother.
The weight of responsibility settled on my shoulders as I watched my girls work diligently. Memories of playing chess with Enten flitted through my mind, of the times I shared stories from my life before with Ruby and Mana in the dark caverns while we waited for the drones to dig us out.They were no longer just my creations; they were my family, and I had to believe that they would be able to weather the coming storm.
Gneisenau stood up and walked over to me, her footsteps echoing in the quiet office. She placed a hand on my shoulder, a rare gesture of comfort from the usually stoic woman. "You've done well, you know. They're strong, capable, and loyal. Believe in them."
I nodded, drawing strength from her words. "I just hope it's enough. What if the Japanese don't accept them?"
"It will be." Gneisenau's confidence was unwavering. "Don't start looking for reasons to doubt yourself before the fight even begins."
I turned to face her, searching her eyes for any hint of doubt, but found none. "Thank you, Gneisenau. I don't know what I'd do without you."
A faint smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "You'd manage, but I'm glad I'm here to help."
Together, we looked out the window once more, watching as my girls—no, our girls—prepared for the challenges that awaited them. Whatever the future held, we would face it together, as a family.
Day 63
Determination fueled me as I woke the next day, resolved to provide my daughters with the best chance at life. I retrieved the B52 blueprint and began my modifications, replacing outdated components with the most outlandish mad science at my disposal. Cost held no sway over my decisions; life over death was my singular goal.
A sense of horror gripped me as I came to terms with this dark aspect of my character—the willingness to sacrifice countless others for the sake of my family's survival. Forgiveness would not be sought, for I harbored no regrets.
This new weapon of war had one purpose: unmitigated destruction. Seven hours into the editing process, I discarded the blueprints, consigning them to the flames as useless trash.
Bigger thinking was required. In the real world, I wasn't constrained by material limitations. My creations took human form, rendering concerns of mass and practicality irrelevant.
Armed with this realization, I returned to the drawing board, sketching the first draft of a flying battleship inspired by Marvel's Helicarrier. As I crunched the numbers, the initial design took shape.
The result of my mad science experiment was an awe-inspiring leviathan, stretching 2,200 meters from prow to stern and powered by four nuclear reactors. In comparison, the Yamato-class, the largest battleship ever constructed, measured a mere 263 meters in length. Gigantic turbines whirred at hurricane speeds, propelling this behemoth through the skies.
If built to scale, the vessel would consume the United States GDP like gasoline, keeping it operational. No sane nation would ever conceive of such a project. Suggesting it in a serious discussion would invite ridicule and dismissal.
Fortunately, I was not constrained by material concerns or the need to justify my expenses to a group of greedy politicians.
Returning to the subject at hand, the hull for this new ship consisted of an aluminum alloy, a common choice in aviation. A plane too heavy would never take flight. Similarly, my new battleship was a glass cannon. The only path to safety lay in soaring so high that my enemies could never reach it.
Here, things took an unexpected turn. Experimenting with a homemade camera, I discovered to my astonishment that the resulting pictures appeared distorted and ruined. This was no isolated incident; we were utterly incapable of appearing on camera. To rule out mechanical failure, I constructed two additional cameras.
Thus, the stealth paint was born.
Vantablack, a pigment not invented until the digital age, seemed initially out of reach. However, I soon realized that by grinding down an abyssal into a paste, it was possible to harness this stealth power and create a pigment. For this experiment, a hapless destroyer "volunteered."
As moonlight spilled through the window, I dipped a finger into a pestle filled with the new pigment and blinked at the result. My finger consumed the surrounding light, appearing as a depthless shadow against the background.
Holding up my finger, I tried to comprehend what my eyes were seeing. When I raised my finger and placed it against the lamp, the light distorted around the digit like a river parting against a rock. The darkness concealed everything that lay behind it.
The strangeness of the pigment's light-absorbing properties unsettled me, but I pushed the feeling aside. My preparations were progressing well. Just as I prepared to delve back into researching potential weapons for my yet-unnamed ship, a knock at the door interrupted my thoughts.
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"Come in," I called out, curiosity piqued by the late-night visitor.
Ruby stepped inside, a hesitant smile on her face. "I hope I'm not intruding, Princess."
I waved off her concern. "My office is always open."
"Thank you." She inclined her head gratefully.
As Ruby settled into the chair across from me, her eyes met mine, a flicker of uncertainty in their depths. Questions burned on the tip of my tongue, but I held them back. She would share her troubles when ready; trust had to be earned, not demanded.
"The others were hoping you might join us for a game of capture the flag," Ruby ventured after a moment.
I blinked in surprise. "I wasn't aware we had that game."
"Gneisenau came up with it." A reassuring smile lit up Ruby's face. "She thought it would be a good way to keep our skills sharp instead of just playing chess in our free time."
Intrigued, I leaned forward. "Sounds like it could be fun. How do you play?"
Enthusiasm radiated from Ruby as she launched into an explanation. "Each team gets a hill with a flag at the top. The objective is to capture the other team's flag and bring it back to your own hill while protecting yours. That's called 'capping the flag.' The catch is, you can't cap the flag if the enemy has captured yours. You need both to win."
An ember of interest ignited within me. The prospect of capture the flag sounded like a welcome distraction from the monotony of office life. After all, designing a superweapon was a marathon, not a sprint.
"Count me in," I said with a grin. "This sounds like fun."
Ruby's face lit up. "I knew you'd love it!"
She led the way, and I trailed behind, stepping out into the open where the warm breeze immediately greeted me, brushing against my face with a gentle, soothing touch. The air was thick with the briny, invigorating scent of the ocean, filling my lungs with each breath.
The distant symphony of waves crashing against the rocky shore resonated in my ears, a rhythmic lullaby. As we walked, the crunch of tiny shells and pebbles underfoot contrasted with the soft whisper of sand slipping away beneath our steps. I spotted tiny crabs scuttling across the beach, their delicate legs scuttling hurriedly across the beach as they darted in and out of the shallow pools left by the receding tide. Their tiny claws clicked as they moved, a subtle but persistent background noise.
Glancing in the opposite direction, I took in the vast expanse of rock and towering sand dunes that stretched to the horizon. Raleigh's work had progressed remarkably well. The ORE Procurer had been tirelessly dumping millions of tons of sand and rock, aiding in the island's expansion.
I continued mass-producing the old ORE drones for this purpose, as they were inexpensive and their tiny mining lasers could more easily chew through sand than rock. The island currently spanned two kilometers in length and width, a feat that would have been impossible if not for the shallow sea surrounding the area.
Sadly, plant life would take time to return, considering the destruction of the nearby islets' vegetation by the meteor.
Our journey ended at a sandy hill, an unceremonious place to christen a new abyssal sport. Still, it seemed as good a location as any. It's not like I could roll out a red carpet or anything.
The rest of my children milled around the hill, some conversing while others engaged in mock battles. Gneisenau waited for us at the summit, a crooked smile on her face. "About time, Ja."
She stood and dusted off her pants before fixing me with a fierce look. "I hope you came ready for a fight."
I glanced at Ruby, noting her surprised expression, before turning back to Gneisenau with a fanged grin. "I was born for this."
"That's the spirit!"
"Let's get this party started then. Who's on which team?" I asked, scanning the gathered crowd eagerly. I hoped to have Enten on my team, as she was the one I knew best.
"I will lead the Red team while you head the Blue team. We'll distinguish one another by the red and blue coral necklaces I'll be handing out."
"How will we contest each other though? Using our fists will result in injuries. Tonnages do matter in martial combat." I pointed out a flaw in her plan.
Gneisenau crossed her arms and scoffed. "I am no amateur. I created paint guns using drone scraps and spare tools. The paint was replaced with spawner liquid, and the rubber was sourced from the spawners since we can request tools and materials from anything it has data on."
"Impressive," I said, genuine admiration coloring my voice. Crafting tools from scratch was no small feat, especially for someone who had likely never encountered a paintball gun before.
"Now, who is on what team?" Gneisenau asked, her gaze sweeping over the gathered abyssals.
A cacophony of voices erupted as everyone clamored to join my team. Nervous laughter escaped my lips at their enthusiasm.
"Princess, please pick me!" one voice rang out above the others.
"Me, me, me!" another chimed in.
Enten's wide, pleading eyes met mine. "Will you pick me first?"
"Su-" I began, but Ruby's tearful interruption cut me off.
"What about me?" Tears streaked down her face, leaving glistening trails in their wake.
"I-ugh, wait," I stammered, taking a step back as I glanced around at the sea of hopeful faces. This was so moe. When had everyone turned into adorable anime characters?
Gneisenau's commanding voice sliced through the chaos. "Enough!"
Silence descended upon the group, and I shot my friend a grateful look. I hadn't anticipated the depth of emotion my children would display over team selection. Letting Gneisenau divide the teams from the start would have been wiser, saving me from inadvertently playing favorites.
"Enough squabbling," Gneisenau declared, her tone brooking no argument. "The red team, led by myself, will consist of Enten, Vaporen, Aqua, Siren, Aime, and Mana. The blue team, led by Fraulein Ciriel, will include Ruby, Hisui, Mae, Morrigan, Nephthys, and Corone."
With a nod, I turned to organize my side while Gneisenau did the same for hers. Ruby, being the most familiar to me, was the first I approached.
"Are you ready for this?" I asked, my gaze sweeping over my team.
Ruby met my eyes, a confident grin spreading across her face. "Never better."
The others murmured their agreement, determination etched on their features. I allowed myself a small smirk. "Good. Let's head over to our hill and discuss strategy."
Two hundred meters separated the blue team's hill from the red side. Walls of sand, sculpted into makeshift fortifications, provided cover. Curiosity getting the better of me, I aimed my paint gun at a nearby sand wall and pulled the trigger. The paint splattered against the surface, leaving a vibrant mark but causing little damage.
Atop the hill, a crude rampart had been erected, complete with a small murder hole for someone to shoot through. Below it, a trench offered additional protection. Scattered hills and sand dunes, some natural and others artificially created, obscured the view between our team and the enemy.
As we gathered at the base of the hill, everyone's expectant faces turned to me, awaiting guidance. I suppressed a groan. They reminded me of a group of eager toddlers, hanging on my every word. A pang of guilt struck me; I needed to make more of an effort to get to know them as individuals.
"Here's the plan," I began, my voice steady. "I will lead a small squad to the enemy hill and secure their flag. Mae and Morrigan, you'll guard my flanks. Ruby, Hisui, Nephthys, and Corone, your task is to protect our flag at all costs."
In unison, they nodded, their hands snapping up in a crisp salute. "Yes, Princess!"
I made a mental note to break them of that habit. Now, the question remained: what should my next move be? I knew how to handle a gun, but playing the role of a soldier was unfamiliar territory. Imitating a video game protagonist wouldn't guarantee success here.
Turning my options over in my mind, I settled on a cautious approach. I would creep around the sand dunes, taking care to move slowly, while Mae and Morrigan kept a sharp eye out for any potential ambushes.
It was a plan—perhaps not a perfect one, but a starting point nonetheless.
"Ok let's go. I'll take the lead," I said, bringing up my paint gun to shoulder level and leading the charge.