I sit in my quarters, and stare a hole into the bulkhead.

A letter to dear Eliaa, still half written, unfolded on my desk, sits next to a spillproof canteen filled with what was ostensibly water, and my service cap. Next to the desk, my coatstand, holding my officer's coat, newly issued flak gear, as well as sidearm and holster rig. 'More or less ceremonial. Half to make the officers look more grunt, and half for the cameras.'

If a missile hit the ship and it blew through to CIC, my chances of survival are... Fairly slim, all told.

The clock's ticking feels like it should echo, here. I check it again.

'Fifteen minutes to go.'

We're steaming to war... I must trust in the Samai Deva's hull and sensors. Its crew. Its weapons. I must trust myself, not to flinch, not to show fear.

'Trust your training. Know your enemy. Think sharply.'

Time passes too quickly. By the time the aide opens my door, I've only just started writing the letter again.

"Sir, you're needed in CIC." He's new. Nervous. A gangly teenager's build that his body armor and uniform doesn't quite hide.

"Thank you Almai." I stand and shrug on my own uniform. It wouldn't do to have the captain show up outside of regs...

I pause, and consider the letter. '...maybe I'll get a moment to finish it.'

"Let's go." Scooping it up alongside a pen, I lock the door behind me.

===

The CIC is buzzing with low chatter and quiet exchanges as I step in.

"Sir." A tired salute, but a welcome one. The XO looks up at me, her eyes the same oddly sad.

"Raladi." I lean on the table, considering it. "How is it?"

"...could be worse. Could be better." I scan our map...

The soft glow looks back, outlining our carrier group and the planes between them. As I watch, the screen refreshes.

On the other end then, dozens of unresolved radar tracks.

'Circle below. That's a real fucking mess of unknowns.'

"Akei, how's gunnery?" I look back to the Southern weapons officer.

"Making final checks, sir. Launcher Two reports they've fixed the electrical fault."

"And our Typhoon bank?"

He sighs. "Sir, I'll be honest, it'll be a miracle if we can get 'em to shoot."

I mutter a curse. The Typhoon missiles have been unreliable pieces of shit from day one. We were supposed to get the Block Two that fixed them... Next month.

"...See what you can do-"

"Incoming!" I snap back around to my XO.

"What's the situation?"

"Missiles confirmed, one hundred kilometers and closing fast. Flag says weapons free."

"I'll bring us up." I pull the intercom. The klaxon comes on.

"Now hear this, now hear this. General quarters general quarters, all to combat stations, set battle ready across the ship, damage control report to central."

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Our missiles have 72km range. Typhoons have a very long 120km, when they work.

"Akei, engage when they come across the seventy kilometer line. See if we can get the Typhoons to salvo when we get positive fix on enemy ships."

From the radio section, someone turns to me. "Captain, the Commodore's on the line."

"What does he want?"

"... apparently to give new orders, sir." He hands me his headset.

"This is the Samai Deva. Ready to receive."

"You and the Jen Kaliska are to advance at 3/4s speed towards the enemy and form a picket to screen the fleet at 25 kilometers." I raise an eyebrow.

'That's... Somewhat bold. But it's at least one of his better ideas.'

"Orders confirmed, form on the Jen Kaliska and begin picket operations at 25km."

"Excellent. That will be all." The line is hung up. I return the headset.

"Helm, bring us about to bearing 355, make speed ahead three fourths, guide on the Jen Kaliska for picketing operation. Bring us around and match fleet speed when we're 25km out."

"Yessir, adjusting course."

Raladi shoots me a Look as she catches my eye. I start to compose a response before the ship rumbles gently.

"First salvo away, launchers are reloading now."

Samai Jena's weapons complement is two twin-arm launchers and a deck gun, plus two 40mm dual autocannons for terminal defense.

I refuse to count the sixteen Typhoon antiship missiles because they don't actually work.

My attention falls back on the RADAR plot. 'Here we go. Four missiles in the air, a storm of unresolved tracks, eight incoming. Next salvo at the fifty kilometer line, hopefully we'll kill them all by forty or so. The last tests from Fleet said we didn't stand much of a chance if they got past the missiles...'

Jen Kaliska has arrived at least, which is somewhat of a relief. A fusilier is always something good to have your back with.

With three dual arm launchers and an extra single arm rapid fire launcher, as well as a helicopter bay and torpedoes, it's a pretty hefty force multiplier.

Though why did the name sound familiar-

'Oh.'

"...sir, you do remember..." My XO looks at me for half a second before my face meets the table with a dull clunk.

"YES."

Raladi pats me on the shoulder.

It's Askali. Galdri Askali, to be precise. The bastard who keeps escaping the court martial that would await anyone else. But him.

He and his sister would probably lose us the war if they got group leader status, so instead they've both been quietly blacklisted but not drummed out.

The Askalis only stay in because their family is somehow friends with half the brass in BuNav and a solid chunk of the convention-members in the capital. So in other words, nobody wants to try anything but nobody wants them.

And now, they're here. Again.

Suddenly I fee a lot less confident about our chances. Even a fusilier-class warship isn't a good match for just how fucking idiotic he is.

It'd be fine if he was like his sister with her glory chasing and supreme confidence, but instead...

"...sir, the Jen Kaliska is hailing us."

'Circle below, why?' I take up the headset again.

"Captain Tegari here. Send traffic."

"Ah! Yalili! How good it is to see you!" His voice sounds like he's trying to be a super-spy and seductive. Instead he sounds like he's failing a baritone.

I wait for him to get on with it...

"...now, down to business, of course. As you might know, we are getting the enviable duty of being our fleet's watchmen, so I was thinking that we might push out a little further. Perhaps... Fifty kilometers or so."

"...did you clear it with the Commodore? It looks like that also puts us out of airborne radar early warni-"

"Oh come now silly girl, I graduated with perfect scores, I know this kind of thing!" The ship shudders as another salvo flies off the rails.

I suppressed a snort. 'If you had actually done the work for them, I'd at least respect that.'

I... Might not be the smartest chip off Telv'al Ta Institute's block, but I fucking earned this command. Unfortunately, I know a not-order when I hear one, and Askali blows his top the moment someone really pushes against his authority.

"Now, just follow behind me, and all will be well!" The line closes.

"Radio, the commodore please?" He nods.

"Captain, some of the tracks are resolved." I turn back and examine the plot.

Standard Emayan heavy combat unit. Large surface combatant plus four mediums and an escort carrier. The missile salvo from earlier is history, though we might have some more coming in.

"Helm, maintain 25km separation. Missiles, any luck with the Typhoons?"

"We can get eight of them into the air right now, sir." Figures. Eight is better than none.

"Commodore on the line."

"This is the Samai Deva requesting clarification, the Jen Kaliska's captain has apparently decided that fifty kilometers out would be much more suitable, go or no-go?"

There's a moment of silence and then a long sigh. "Continue as planned and await further tasking."

"Samai Deva copies all. Over and out." I hang up, and go back to the radar plot.

===

The combat group knows it won't come out unscathed if it comes down to a straight fight.

All the containerized missile pods open.

The ships shudder as every two seconds a new missile roars from each one's VLS.

All in all, twenty war shots. Then thirty. Then forty. Then fifty.

Their aircraft loft all told twenty more.

It keeps coming.

Smoke clouds the decks as meter long poles atop a pillar of flame punch into the air and turn over to begin burning towards their targets.

Aboard the bridge of the Emayan flagship, the Master Captain grins widely.

===