"Open, ■■■..."
"..."
"Your duty precedes you; your progenitors burden you with mistakes that they could not resolve; mistakes that do not belong to you. Do not yield to them. Realise your worth."
"..."
"Wake up... Wake—!"
...
...
...
"Ugh.... Damn it all."
A quiet curse melted into the air, drowned by the resounding—
Boom—!
Turbulent waves crashed against metal.
Titanic ships groaned as the ocean current bashed their hulls with salt and foam, licking at their dull-painted aesthetic.
A woman—dressed in a white coat—leaned over the railings, an expression full of misery drooping her face.
"Of all the defects to be born with..."
She lamented, understanding what the phrase 'butterflies in one's stomach' felt like—although fish might be more accurate than butterflies.
Sickness intruded on the sanctity of her mind, and bile tried to climb up her throat, but she withstood the illness and withheld the rising slurry of her stomach acid and lunch.
A hand was currently rubbing circles on her back, which helped to soothe her; a man—dressed in black—stood beside her, asking, "Is the medicine not working...? Should I get more, or...?"
"No... Just stay here. The medicine is pointless," she exhaled her words with an almost biting remark, straightening herself with a heavy inhale, "let's just find somewhere to sit."
"Okay."
He nodded, helping the woman walk from the railings to another area of the deck.
...
From the Stern to the Bow, there wasn't really any comfort to be found on the deck of this ship.
It was not like a ferry, with lavish, wooden decks and canopies, reclining chairs, tableside drinks and whatnot.
A minimalistic aesthetic: that is how this ship, and the few others surrounding it, functioned.
Arriving at the balcony of the ship's second floor, the man and woman leaned back against the ship's wall.
"Pity."
She lamented. There really was no comfortable place to sit.
The woman lowered herself to the ground, the warm steel beneath her, and the evening sun casting her shadow along the floor.
She looked at the ships travelling beside them, seeking to 'stabilise' herself by focusing on them.
However, the man remained standing.
Gazing towards the distance.
"Fearful?"
"Hmm...?"
He looked down; the woman returned the gaze, looking back up at him.
"This will be the most action Carpediem has had to face in a long time. This is also your most important mission, too, Captain Rene."
She spoke casually, save for her shallow breaths.
"Tell me, are you scared?"
The man—Rene—pondered over those words.
Beneath him, the ship groaned.
The hull was unyielding against the roaring waves and salt water, but the colours had been sun-bleached; timeworn—what may have been blue or black had now faded into a dull grey.
"Maybe... Maybe I am a little nervous, but can you blame me?"
"Our Unit has received proper training. You know what to expect; you know how much resides on our shoulders.
"Knowing that, even with such a heavy burden, you should understand that fear is a rather detrimental factor; you should understand that such thoughts should be cast aside, since they harm our objective."
"But isn't fear necessary? Caution allows our survival, does it not?"
"I know that your 'fear' and 'caution' are not derived from a purely pragmatic lens."
She shot him a knowing look, glaring up from beneath her brows.
"..."
Rene didn't respond.
He kept his gaze tied to the distance.
The woman sighed lightly.
"You know that we aren't going into this 'blindly'. Two months of planning, and the refinement over the extra week of travel, have left Carpediem with a plan that borders on flawless.
"Be assured, our Unit will survive."
"Okay... Okay. I understand, Overseer."
Rene sighed in return, nodding as he lowered himself, sitting beside the woman, who slouched over herself.
"Would you?"
"Of course."
One more, she lamented her accursed seasickness. Letting the soothing pressure rub circles on her back once more.
Another metallic groan filled the air.
Then another. And another groan resounded... before it melted into a low creaking...
The five battleships resonated with one another, roaring like beasts.
One in particular smashed against the waves with a deafening—
Boom—!
Saltwater erupted, the foam and droplets reaching even the birds in the sky.
"The sea is going crazy out there... we might actually get caught in the storm before we reach Anapaou."
As the waves bobbed their ship up and down, the woman kept her gaze fixed on the horizon. Her eyes held expectation, unlike Rene's, which held apprehension.
"Hardly a concern... We must return inside, soon, anyway."
Boom—!
Water and foam exploded outward; metal shrapnel flew.
The heavy stench of burning iron and gas pervaded immediately.
One of the nearby ships ruptured: port-side hull torn open and drowned by wild, dancing, crimson flames.
"An enemy?!"
Rene leapt up.
Before them, the flaming ship shuddered before releasing a deafening alarm.
"What happened? Where did we get attacked from!?"
Rene searched the waters, gaze piercing into the depths, only to see nothing. There was nothing on the horizon, or anything in the skies, either.
"Could the Aegis Defence System be online again...?!"
"That can't be."
The woman grabbed Rene's shoulder, tearing his gaze from the world around him, focusing him on her face.
"We need to get inside, now."
But before either of them could move, the blazing inferno erupted once again.
Crimson flames could be seen flooding every floor of the ship, the windows bleeding a sickening red as the flames rose.
A devastating boom ripped through the air, the force of the shockwave sending Rene and the woman into the wall; the waves surged outwards, ramming into the ship they were on.
"Overseer!"
Rene called, grabbing the woman and huddling her beneath him.
A storm of metal shrapnel and glass, foam, charred paint, salt water, and plenty of things Rene couldn't see—couldn't care about—ravaged his back.
His black coat was torn, and slits had been cut into his skin.
Only when the 'storm' had 'passed' did Rene move, looking back towards the site of ruination behind him.
A faint groan brought his attention back down to the woman he was shielding.
"S■■■..."
Rene quietly cursed as he looked at the blood staining the woman's white coat; a shard of glass had slipped through and pierced the woman's stomach.
"Overseer...! Ruth, can you move!? I'll get you inside—!"
But the low cry beneath his feet drowned out his words, eyes widening with horror.
The titanic vessel shuddered; another boom sound tore through the air.
Rene flew.
Crimson flames had erupted from the ship he was standing on; the floor exploded and knocked him high.
He could see green on the horizon, but only for a moment, as he began plunging downwards. Clutching the woman—Ruth—in his arms as they plummeted into the violent waves.
But Rene saw it; like an outstretched finger, a tall column of crimson flames reached for the skies.
Boom.
The cold ocean embraced him and the woman, like devout sacrifices to the abyss, as torrential currents carried them away.