Chapter 13.5, Interlude One: A perfectly Calm Discussion in the Dead of Night with No Serious Overtones at All (Edited)

“Welcome to the world, little sis. How was the swim here?”

Those were the first words spoken to Lady Sandra by a fellow ship-spirit just as she was embarking on her first sea trials fresh out of dry dock. Everything before was a haze, clouded memories of wizened men and women in a lab-shrine interspersed with confusing, incomprehensible flashes of another life.

Her journey so far had been short, but pleasant. Her new captain was professional, as was her crew. Outside, the air was crisp, the waters crystal gentle, and the sky clear for kilometers around. It was, in short, nearly ideal for her first voyage, she noted with some satisfaction.

A subtle hum built up around a pointed antenna on Sandy’s bridge as she answered over the long-distance communications systems, the air vibrating visibly around as she did so. “Hello, Elder. I am the operating spirit of the Lady class destroyer designated Lady Sandra. My trip encountered no notable obstacles. I look forward to working efficiently with you.”

Laughter echoed over the connection. “You are most certainly not a Lady Sandra.”

“I am not? But that is my designation? Perhaps you are seeking my identification number? In which case, I am ICM-S-F-2237—”

“Oh no, not that at all. That’s the name Command gave you, but is it really you? I think Sandy fits you far more.” Bewilderment flooded her thoughts as what she somehow knew to be a pat came over their shared communications channel. How in the world did her elder just do that? She didn’t even have an applicable body to receive the act!?

“It does? I do not understand. Also, how did you do that?” Lady Sandry asked again with greater urgency as what happened didn’t make any sense.

Her body was alchemical steel, her veins mana piping, and her nerves runic script snaking through her interior. She did not have a body to receive a head pat.

“Wow, you really are fresh out of dock, aren’t you? Don’t worry, you’ll loosen up in time.” A flood of warmth and the sensation of a great and powerful hug came over the connection which actually wasn’t so bad, but  seriously, how was she doing that!?

“Oh! Can’t believe I forgot! I didn’t introduce myself. I am the Battleship spirit ICM Promised Victory, but friends call me Vicky. This goes doubly for little sisters like you. I’ll show you the ropes, okay?” She placed a particular proud emphasis on her battleship title echoing along with a flood of well-meaning warmth over their connection while wiggling her turrets in the distance.

Confused and unsure how to deal with the warm feeling she didn’t even know herself capable of feeling five minutes prior, Sandra followed Promised Victory — wait, no, Vicky — into the strait beyond, and—

“Sandy? Are you awake?”

Awareness returned to Sandy as she emerged from the sea of memories within her soul. Her sole remaining iris opened as her consciousness widened. “Lieutenant Mor?”

She focused externally as processes sluggishly responded to the return of full power. She was finally able to see the only member of her crew she’d seen since awakening earlier; Eliza Mor.  She was dressed as she had been before, and was leaning toward Sandy’s core cradle with a worried yet also relieved expression.

“Oh thank goodness, you’ve returned,” Sandy said. “I’ve maintained low power like you asked, but please, explain what is going on? Where’s the crew, why am I grounded on this island, why is my body so much more damaged than it was when I was last awake?”  

Almost as an afterthought, Sandy added, “When did you get a daughter?”

“Please, just Eliza. Things have…sweet Star Child, where do I even begin?” Lieutenant Mor — no, Eliza, ran a hand through her hair. Which, Sandy noted, was now longer than regulation and definitely longer than Sandy’s records indicated she should.  “What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Well, we had just finished loading up supplies and were making our way to relieve the garrison of Watcher’s Isle when…when…I…” Sandy trailed off. “I honestly do not know. I know we had left port, I know we had the supplies needed, and I know we were ready for a patrol. Orders from Command had been to resume movement with the convoys into the south seas to guard against potential Corsen chimeric attacks, but beyond that I’m not able to ascertain my last action.”

That was… strange. Alarmingly so. She shouldn’t just forget. She was an artificial spirit made explicitly for this ship. She didn’t forget.

“Eliza?” Sandy’s voice was hesitant, almost fearful. “Did something happen to me? My… core? Was I…damaged, in some way?”

Eliza looked away. “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean?” Sandy didn’t know if it was a plea or a question.

“I mean that I don’t know.” Eliza rubbed her forehead. “Sandy, it’s been five years.”

The ensuing silence was all consuming. It suffused over them like a blackened, suffocating cloth around their throats. Sandy sought words and failed.

Eliza eventually broke the silence with a flick of her hair. “Around the time you were knocked out, everything went to shit.  I think someone in the divination room may have seen or spotted something on the long-distance lens, but whatever it was killed them the second the ship lost all power. My station in Resonance Communications shattered and I barely got out of there before half the equipment melted,” Eliza said. Left unsaid was the important point that resonance equipment and all associated thaumaturgy didn’t melt. They might break, shatter, wear down, simply stop functioning, get out of alignment, but melting was nowhere in the realm of possibilities.

Eliza gripped her paws tight enough Sandy was concerned she’d draw blood with her claw tips. “The part that gets me? The one that really gets me? That I actually get. Something happened, overloaded or fried our equipment, fine, whatever. But the next thing that happened before we could even begin damage control? We fell asleep.”

“You all…” Sandy had trouble hiding the incredulousness in her voice as she drew out her words. “You fell asleep?”

“I don’t know, Sandy. One moment we were rushing around the ship trying to figure out what had happened and running damage control, and the next every last one of us were out.” Eliza’s eyes drifted to something unseen. “What I saw… they called us, Sandy. Everyone,” Eliza whispered.

“Who are they?” Sandy immediately asked.

Eliza blinked. “Sorry, been a while since…since I talked with anyone about this. The gods. It was time for the Final battles to decide the world, and…” Eliza paused. “They needed our help, Sandy,” she said, voice falling low again. “The Star Child, her sisters, they were hurt, fighting, fighting to save everything, and… I couldn’t. I was so scared, but something was wrong, she didn’t respond to anything I said, just repeated her offer, and I, I just fucking couldn’t I was so scared.” Eliza whirled and punched a nearby bulkhead with a yell.

She breathed deeply a few moments longer before flicking her hair back. “I still don’t know if that was a mistake. I still dream about her. She was my goddess, had even spoken to me in her temples and given advice, once, when I was little. She offered her hand and that beautiful, sad little smile. She was hurt, her stars were fading, and I knew just a bit more might save her, but  but I just couldn’t, I just fucking couldn’t I was so scared at how final I could sense it was and something felt so, so utterly wrong. Only consolation I have is I know I wasn’t alone. Half the crew never woke up. Those who did take the offer had the most peaceful expressions on their faces like they’d accomplished their purpose in life.”

Eliza’s voice was full of pain, pain beyond what Sandy could understand. “Not a single one had a pulse. Those of us who didn’t take the offer all knew we’d failed the gods. All of them were gone now,” Eliza trailed off.

Sandy, for her part, found herself at a complete loss. Inside her core, calculations, arrays, and more of the complex magic that made up her feeling had practically frozen at the proclamation.

The gods.

Gone.

Just… just what had she missed?”

At this point, Eliza laughed. It was a bitter sound.  “That’s when the fucking storm hit. If I hadn’t known we’d failed the gods then, I’d sure think they were just a touch peeved with us.”

Sandy knew nice laughs. Somewhat inevitably, she overheard her crew talking, laughing, sharing their secrets. Some were great belly laughs, others were like chimes in the wind. This was none of those. This was more like the sound sailors made when pulled from the waters after their ships went down and they were informed no one else had been picked up. They could either laugh at their fortune or scream.  

“Oh no,” Sandy’s voice was barely a whisper. Discarding the comment about the very gods and failing them — Sandy could allow an existential crisis with that information later — she was well aware what a violent storm could do to her poor, fleshy crew and damages it could do to her body if a safe cove wasn’t found.

It got worse.

“Naturally, about this time, a damn sandcrawler decided our misfortunes were a grand old time and joined in on the fun. I have no idea where the damn thing came from beyond that we had no warning because, once again, the divination room was wrecked, so it could have been trailing us from the moment we woke up, could have come with us for all I know.  Wrecked half the ship before we drove it off with a combination of storm charges and the heavier shard launchers. Poor Aófe…”

 Eliza let the conversation trail off in silence before withdrawing a silver flask.  She proceeded to take a swig of something from a flask before coughing. “Gods, I’ve been saving that for years…still tastes like piss.” She shook her head harshly at the taste before shrugging it off and looking back to Sandy’s core to continue.

“By the time we sorted ourselves out, we found we were gods know where, way off our original course, although we think it’s still somewhere near Illiana given the position of the stars. We were without almost all the major systems and were taking on water. We’re lucky we even managed to ground in the estuary as it is rather than shipwrecking entirely. Ended up transferring most of our survival supplies to the nearby island’s old fort because it ended up being easier to gather and forage from there, at least in the long term.”

Sandy was utterly without words.

“I…I’m so sorry, Lieutenant Mor. If I’d just been awake, I’d…” Sandy wanted to say more, but couldn’t. It didn’t need to be said. She was the ship. The mere capacity to act and react alone while her crew were incapacitated would’ve been decisive.

Eliza laughed again. It was just as bitter as before. “It’s Eliza. I haven’t slept a night since then wondering how things would’ve gone if you’d just been awake. Maybe you could’ve picked up our slack, maybe we’d have been just a bit faster in responding. We tried.”

The sheer feeling of tiredness in the way she said ‘tried’ resonated with Sandy, but she could do nothing but listen. “We tried, so, so damn hard, to wake you up. But whatever hit us did a number on you, and your orb was cracked when we got to you.”

That got Sandy’s attention. A crack wasn’t impossible, but to reach her without damaging the command room as she had seen? Her core, the very fundamental anchor of her entire existence that housed her consciousness, equally as important as a sapient’s brain, was behind many layers of protection capable of withstanding anything up to a class two entropic spell burst. Anything that could damage her should have done severe damage to the ship, but to target her specifically? She had no idea what could cause that.

“Ever since, we — well, I’ve kept a trickle of mana going to you, even with the reactor damaged. I know you have some capacity for self regeneration of Ego, or so Conor had said,” Eliza walked around in the rays of light of her lantern, pacing as dust motes fell. “All this time, I've been hoping you’d regenerate, or at least, maybe keep you alive. Took a while, huh?”

“Wait, my reactor’s damaged?” Sandy’s alarm could not be more genuine. The only thing worse than her core being damaged would be the reactor for the sheer scale of destruction it could bring. She couldn’t sense much of her body right now, couldn’t even wiggle any of her machinery, her connection was so faint, but the reactor was her true heart, the source of all power on the ship. The only thing worse than being offline was if it was damaged. She’d never seen a criticality event in her service, but…

“No, no, the reaction chamber is fine, but the glyph network was trashed beyond belief. Even going full blast we couldn’t get the efficiency back up beyond 3%, maybe 5% in short bursts.” Eliza said, sighing.

This relieved Sandy, although that efficiency was abjectly terrible and put her at under minimum emergency power. It did bring up her next point. If she had lips, she might have nervously licked them. “What about the rest of the crew? The ones who, who woke up.”

Eliza responded by taking another swig. She grimaced at the taste but kept it down. “Dead. Illness like lung rot took a number of the rest of us within a few days of grounding here. I survived, barely, but by that point it was just five of us. Later, after getting tired of waiting and finding no one on short range resonance systems, we tried to use the outrider boat to head south where we spotted a land mass on telescopes on clear days.” Eliza’s claws tightened into fists. “It didn’t work.”

Sandy knew a trap when she saw one but felt helpless to stop it. She felt like a passenger on some horrible ride with no ability to stop. “Why didn’t it work?”

"The fucking sandcrawler was still waiting." Eliza's voice dropped to a growl as she almost spat the words out.

Fighting back obvious distress, she continued, "Second we got into deeper water, it was on us. Wrecked the outrider, killed Becket and Nasha instantly. Only reason I got away was Erin hugging that thing’s face with every grenade she’d found somewhere and stunning it while she force fed herself to it, that crazy, crazy, girl." Her anger abated as she described the event, eventually looking down as tears finally formed. With one hand she wiped the tears away, she touched her belly with the other.

“I barely made it back to shore, soaked, bleeding, cold.” Eliza said. She let the silence stretch before speaking up again. “I was pregnant, you know. Stupid thing, really. Hadn’t meant to, but with all this horror on top of us, some of us paired up for just a reprieve, just the tiniest bit of relief to distract us, and well, Nature happened.” Her hand dropped to her belly. “At least Gwen made it.”

Sandy didn’t say anything. She physically couldn’t bring herself to. Words were not enough. Not for the first time, she wished she had arms to offer up a hug, but she couldn’t even do that, not with her power so low. She couldn’t even wiggle a door in sympathy right now.

Sandy had thought she was prepared for many things. Stories of enemy action, the war with Corsen picking up, serious malfunctions, or even by the abyss a bad hardware update having caused her to shut down unexpectedly.  She’d lost crew, been hurt before, but this went far beyond even the worst defeats of her life, even worse than the wretched Battle of Sunrise.

She couldn’t fix what had already been done. She longed to comfort Eliza, a treasured member of her crew. She’d known everyone, but as an officer and one who helped maintain her communications, she was especially familiar with Eliza. Remnants of the strong headed, playful woman were there, but the grim woman before her was something else.

Sandy didn’t like that. She didn’t like any of this. But she could look ahead.

Sandy decided it was time to take action. “How are you planning to get us off this island, then?”

At this, Eliza smiled. Her fangs glinted in the dark. “Oh? You’re assuming I have a plan at this point?

“Puh-lease.” Sandy couldn’t resist drawing out the word. “I can put together details on what you haven’t said. Help isn’t coming or it’s so far off it’s worthless. There’s a sandcrawler out there. Probably made a nest if not gone outright feral without its handler. My body frankly should be in far worse shape than it actually is and I can tell many internal systems are there, just not active. You’ve clearly been doing more than sit on the beach for five years with your daughter.” Sandy wished she had fingers to tick off her points.

“Were it so easy…” Eliza’s voice took on a wistful quality.  “It’s funny, you know. I thought I was knowledgeable when we first set sail. I even have a degree and thesis in resonance communications. But all this time, since I waded back ashore, I’ve been learning. I’ve read every last damn manual in this ship seven times over, even multiple volumes of Mana Chromatics,” she spat. Sandy had her own wince. Even for her, Mana chromatics was dull. “All of that just to get a better understanding of what I need to do to get you working again. Stars above, I’d deserve five my salary with what I know now.”

Eliza slapped her hands together. “The problem as I see it comes down to that damn sandcrawler. Haven’t seen it close to the island, but sometimes I’ve found bits of discarded shell washed up on the beaches. It’s grown.  If it waited for us that long in the first place, I can only assume it’s still out there. Regardless, any raft or canoe I could make on this island would be snapped in half by that thing and I am not that damn monster take more from me. Gwen will survive this,” Eliza said, and rubbed her head with a sigh. “But, with you, or your ship body running, well it’d have a Paths cursed of a time stopping us with full ship rushing ahead.”

“Wait, that’s your plan? But, I am clearly damaged, my guns aren’t functional, engines aren’t running, and I’m grounded firmly, and—”

“I’ve thought of all that. I can get systems working again temporarily. I think I have a way to dislodge the ship’s bow relatively safely and get us back to sea. Steering was a bit fucked but not like we need to do maneuvers. Just need to but we just need to head in a straight line for a while. If we can get close enough to the southern land mass, the sand crawler shouldn’t bother us. If it attacks on the way there, well, I’ve been waiting for a touch of payback.” Eliza’s eyes seemed to glow. A deep, primordial hunger filled her voice.

Sandy spotted a problem immediately. Perhaps it was better to call it an inevitability. “My body won’t survive this, will it?”

Eliza didn’t meet her eye, but her ears did fold. “No. I suspect we will be taking on some amount of water the second we get to sea and, well, my work is the definition of ‘patchwork’. It’ll be a one-way trip for your ship form.”

“Am I to be sacrificed, then?” Sandy asked. She didn’t relish the thought, but death was always a possibility, ever since she’d been commissioned.

“I hope not.” Eliza’s words and tone took Sandy aback. “I’ve already lost too damn many friends here. Your ship form…well, it’s close to a lost cause, but your core? I’ve been reading the manuals the CIC crew had, the ones I’m definitely not supposed to be reading.  I think I can get you out and take you with us.”

“I would be grateful.” Sandy’s words were true, but she could not conceal her immensely mixed feelings. She would strongly prefer not to die, but the idea of leaving her body to rot in the surf once and for all did not sit well. “When will you be ready to make our escape?”

“About a month from now.” Eliza’s words were strangely casual.

“A mere month?” Sandy’s processes raced. For a single woman, even someone as talented as Eliza, conducting any broad repairs on Sandy’s body was bound to be difficult and tedious, as well as a fight against the elements. “Why so soon?”

“We’re down to two months of rice left.”

Sandy did not say anything for a long moment. Then, she exploded. “What? Why have you waited so long you ninny?!”

Eliza winced. “I’ve stretched our supplies as long I could. With everything meant for a full crew and just Gwen and I, it’s lasted us a long time, but…well, we’ve gone through a lot, some went bad. Tried to make up the slack with foraging, but the island can’t support us. Forage is just bad, far worse than what I grew up with, and fishing isn’t much better, plus no way would I try for deeper waters,” Eliza ticked off. “ I’m on reduced rations, but I refuse to let my growing daughter suffer until we absolutely have to. At first, we — the rest of the crew— waited hoping for rescue, then hoping to buy time to get more repairs done, then buying yet more time for Gwen to grow, and I know I was stupid and waited too long, but it is what it is.  But, with you awake, I think the remaining repairs will go faster. Hell, if you can help me diagnose issues alone that’ll be a huge help.”

“Very well, Lieutenant Mor.” Sandy took an emphasis on her title, discarding familiarity for the moment to make her point. “Actually, that’s not quite right. As the last surviving officer of this vessel, this qualifies a temporary emergency raise in your rank to Captain Mor.”

At this, Eliza snorted. “Maybe, not that it makes a difference at this point.”

Sandy thought it could make a world of difference, and modified her logs accordingly, but in the present it didn’t change matters much. “Be that as it may, this conversation has been illuminating, if distressing. I think I need some time to process it.

Eliza nodded. “I need to get some rest myself and get back to Gwen. I put her to bed earlier, after…well, after things happened.” Her voice became a little guarded, which set Sandy aback. Had Gwen finding her been that bad? “See you tomorrow? I think, as long as you don’t go crazy, you should be okay on power, just keep things low, okay?”

“I can monitor my own power usage, thank you very much. Go to your daughter. I look forward to seeing both of you tomorrow.”

With that, Eliza departed, her light shining through the dark and dim lighting within Sandy’s decks.

Sandy listened to her footsteps, vaguely aware of Eliza’s positioning even if she had difficulty focusing with any specificity, right up until Eliza departed her body.

Sandy had much to think about, but she had one duty to perform.

She accessed the internal registry she maintained on the ship’s crew from the highest captain and officers to the lowliest ensign. This, at least, still worked.

 At peak capacity, she could field some 98 crew members. All were shown as alive and well. This was incorrect.

With a simple inversion that nonetheless resonated across her matrices with haunting ice-like dread, she altered the registry: 98 living crewmen became 97 deceased. Only one remained alive and well: Eliza Mor.

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Chapter 13.5-Interlude One: Author’s Note

This one changed a lot. Originally it was entirely epistolary in format and from Eliza’s perspective as a diary, then it changed to a ship’s log, then there were half a dozen versions of this conversation, but at least I think I finally got this one down in a loosely workable format.

I’ve also been wanting to write more about Sandy for a little while now. Heck, she was a character I brainstormed early into this novel’s life, right around the same time as Eliza, but didn’t get a place to even make a solid appearance until recently.

Obligatory author plug because I'd love to write more but society sadly says I need monies to keep living:

Support me on Patreon, Ko Fi, or Subscribe Star. Check them out for advance chapters, too. Or check out my website for links to my other author accounts, contact, socials, etc.

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