The holding cells were a stark, humming line of six individual cubes, their walls shimmering with the faint blue energy of active forcefields. The air smelled of ionized metal and recycled air, dry and tasteless. Through the wavering haze, they could see each other, prisoners in a silent gallery. Their weapons were gone, secured in some distant armory, leaving them feeling oddly naked. A single guard in full CUA armor stood watch at the end of the corridor, his helmeted face giving nothing away.
Ember was curled on her bare bench, fast asleep, her charred rabbit clutched to her chest, seemingly untroubled by their predicament. The somber silence was finally broken by Bianca, who kicked at the base of her forcefield with a grunt of frustration. "So," she sighed, the word dragging out. "Like, what do you think they will, like, do with us?"
Charlie, who had been attempting to smooth the wrinkles from his only slightly crumpled khaki shirt, cleared his throat with a loud "Ahem!" that echoed in the sterile space. "This appears, based on the architectural austerity and the militaristic bearing of our hosts, to be a highly regimented, perhaps totalitarian, society. I would postulate that once they have concluded their initial assessment, they will coordinate with the proper jurisdictional authorities and arrange for our transport to a more appropriate facility for processing and, one hopes, eventual repatriation."
From his cell, Souta let out a soft, dry chuckle. "You're assuming this rust-bucket isn't their idea of an appropriate location. Look around, scholar. The metal, the constant vibration from machinery deep below… this place doesn't feel like any island or sea fort I've ever read about. What if there is no mainland? What if the 'Blue Sea' as we know it… simply isn't here?"
"Like, yeah," Bianca agreed, pressing her face close to the energy field, her breath making a small patch of it fog. "The tech is like, totally whack. Those big stompy robots? The energy readings I got before everything fried were, like, a completely different language of physics."
Aurélie, who had been sitting cross-legged on the floor in a state of deep meditation, her silver hair pooling around her, didn't open her eyes. "There is no point in speculating on what is to come," she said, her voice calm and level, a rock in the churning uncertainty. "Our objective is clear. We must repair the submarine and find a way to return home. Anything else is irrelevant."
In his cell, Kuro gave a slow, deliberate nod, his fingers steepled. "A pragmatic assessment. The question, then, is not 'what will they do,' but 'how do we accomplish our objective from within these cages?'"
"Like, yeah!" Bianca said, throwing her hands up. "That's my point! How? Like, I don't even know where to start here. Like, the core resonator is toast. The flux manifold is a melted paperweight. Like, I need specific crystalline alloys, a molecular forge… do they even have what we need? Their tech looks all clunky and loud."
Charlie cleared his throat again, adjusting his pith helmet. "Ahem. While this reality is clearly foreign, one may speculate that fundamental physical laws remain constant. Furthermore, the sheer scale of their mechanical constructs suggests a technological base that may, in fact, be on par with—or perhaps even exceed—that of the ancient civilizations predating the formation of our own World Government. The principles, while applied differently, could share a common root."
Aurélie opened one steel-gray eye, a flicker of interest breaking her meditative stillness. "If you are correct," she said slowly, "and that is the case, then it should be possible to…"
The heavy doors at the end of the corridor slid open with a hydraulic hiss, cutting her off. Commander Victor Keller strode in, his face a thundercloud, with the calmer but watchful Josiah Manos a step behind him. The guard snapped to attention.
All attention in the cellblock shifted to them. Keller's eyes, burning with suspicion over secret factions and hidden technology, scanned them like they were spies or faction enemies.
"Enough waiting," Keller barked, stopping before the cells. "What faction do you work for? JFF? Or are you Monastery fanatics who finally decided to stop hiding in your asteroids?"
Charlie stepped forward, his posture ramrod straight. "Ahem! Good sir, we have no idea what you are referring to. Allow me to reiterate that we are merely…"
"Stop lying!" Keller roared, slamming a fist against the bulkhead. The metal rang with the impact. "I know spies when I see them! That vessel of yours—its power signature is a mess, it's built from materials we can't even classify. Who built it? What were you doing in the Drift?"
Bianca threw her hands up. "Like, we keep trying to tell you! The sub is, like, really broken! I need to rebuild the whole…"
"You expect me to believe that?" Keller's head swiveled, his gaze sweeping over them, looking for a crack in their story. "A group of 'explorers' in a ship of unknown origin, with no affiliation, who just happen to appear in the middle of a Typhon engagement? Your story isn't just weak, it's an insult!"
Josiah held up a placating hand. "Commander. Perhaps if they understood the gravity of the situation." He turned his attention to the prisoners. "Surely you can provide a more… plausible explanation?"
Aurélie rose to her feet with a fluid grace that seemed out of place in the cell. "We cannot tell you what we do not know," she stated, her voice cool and steady. "What explanation would be acceptable to you?"
A faint, condescending smirk touched Kuro's lips. "Indeed. We can be associated with whoever you need us to be in order to facilitate our elevation from these… cramped accommodations."
Josiah sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Freelancers," he muttered, the word dripping with exasperation.
Charlie's head tilted. "Is that a faction?"
"Who is paying you, then?" Keller snapped, his patience visibly fraying.
Souta let out a long-suffering sigh from his cell, and Bianca flopped her head back against the forcefield with a dull thud. "This is, like, such a waste of time," she groaned.
Keller drew a sharp breath, ready to unleash another tirade, but Josiah cut him off. "Why should we believe a word you say?" he asked, his tone more curious than accusing. "You have to realize how utterly ridiculous your story sounds."
Bianca looked at him, her expression deadpan. "Like, yeah. So, if it wasn't true, do you, like, think we'd go around saying it? I mean, look at us! Does our tech look like your tech?" She gestured vaguely at herself and her companions. "How else would you explain it?"
After a beat of stunned silence, Charlie cleared his throat. "Ahem. If you could be so kind… what is the name of this location?"
Keller's furious eyes narrowed at Josiah. "Don't tell me you're actually considering this drivel."
Josiah let out an exasperated breath. "The name of this star cluster isn't a secret. There's no tactical advantage in them not knowing." He turned his attention back to Charlie. "This is the Typhon Cluster. You are currently on Haven-07, an oceanic defense outpost under the Colonial Union Authority."
Souta, his interest finally piqued, asked the next question. "And what is the Colonial Union Authority?"
Josiah's brow furrowed in genuine confusion. "The CUA… governs the central colonies. They are the governing body."
Bianca jumped in. "So, like, those robot things…"
"The mobile suits are called Armored Frames," Josiah supplied.
Bianca nodded slowly, as if filing the term away. "And, like, those creature things?"
"The Kaiju you summoned!?" Keller interjected, his voice a growl.
Bianca's head tilted in genuine, artless confusion. Josiah held up a hand to quiet the Commander. "They are the Typhon. They infest the planets and space lanes of this entire cluster. They are why we exist."
Aurélie and Kuro both straightened, a rare flicker of identical shock on their faces. It was Kuro who spoke, his voice losing its affected boredom. "You said… 'planets'?"
Josiah nodded, seemingly perplexed by their reaction. "Yes, of course. The Armored Frames are necessary for travel between the…"
"Enough!" Keller roared, his composure finally shattering. He spun on his heel and stormed out, the doors slamming shut behind him with a final, echoing clang.
Josiah watched him go, then turned back to the prisoners, his expression unreadable. "We will continue our investigation. As long as you cooperate, there will not be any… issues." Without another word, he spun on his heel and followed his commander.
The moment the door sealed, the hum of the forcefields seemed louder.
Bianca was the first to break the silence. "So. Like. Space."
Charlie nodded slowly, his academic mind reeling. "And multiple 'factions' implies a state of ongoing conflict."
Souta finished the thought, his voice a low murmur filled with a strange mix of dread and intrigue. "And 'Typhons' are giant kaiju that infest it all."
In their separate cells, the six strangers from another world sat in silence, the impossible scale of their new reality crashing down upon them.
*****
Marya returned her attention to Galit. "Plot the course." She found an available seat, strapped herself in with a sharp click, and let her head fall back against the rest, closing her eyes as if preparing for a nap. The hum of the engines deepened, and the submarine began to glide silently into the deep, dark waters, its course set for the heart of the world's power.
The volcanic gloom of Bootleg Island's cove fell away behind them, replaced by the endless, sun-dappled blue of the open sea. Through the thick, reinforced viewport, sunlight filtered down in shimmering columns, illuminating schools of strange, phosphorescent fish that scattered at their approach.
Jannali watched, mesmerized, as Galit's fingers danced across the console. He input the final coordinates with a series of decisive taps. "Course laid in," he announced, his voice flat.
Marya cracked open one golden eye, glancing at Aokiji, who remained standing, his arms crossed as he observed the ocean depths. "Frosty," she said, her voice laced with dry amusement. "You're going to want to sit down for this."
Aokiji furrowed his brow, a hint of skepticism in his weary eyes. "I've ridden on a bicycle across the ocean. I believe I can handle a submarine."
Galit didn't look up from his screens. "Deploying bubble porter in five…"
Jelly, strapped into a specially molded seat, began bouncing excitedly. "Bloop! Squishy time! Squishy time!"
"Four…" Galit continued, his hand hovering over a large, red button.
Jannali's confident smirk faltered. She gripped the arms of her chair. "Squishy? What does 'squishy' mean? That sounds… not ideal."
Atlas, checking the buckles across his massive chest, let out a low chuckle. "You'll see."
"Three…"
Aokiji's skepticism finally gave way to mild concern. He glanced at Marya, who had closed her eye again, a faint smirk on her lips. With a resigned sigh, he unfolded his long frame and dropped into the nearest seat, fumbling with the unfamiliar harness. The buckles clicked into place just as Galit reached the end of his count.
"One."
Galit slammed his palm onto the button.
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, a deep, subsonic thrum vibrated through the entire vessel, a sensation that felt less like sound and more like the universe itself groaning. The pressure in the cabin spiked violently, pressing them all back into their seats. Jannali let out a strangled yelp. Outside the viewport, the deep blue of the ocean didn't just darken—it seemed to fold in on itself, the light twisting and warping into impossible fractal patterns. There was a sensation of being stretched, of hurtling through a tunnel of compressed reality.
Then, with a sudden, gut-lurching pop, it was over.
The pressure vanished. The universe snapped back into place. Sunlight, bright and clear, streamed through the viewport. But they were no longer in the open ocean. They were hovering in the churning, white wake of a massive Navy galleon. Its hull was painted a stark, imposing white, and its figurehead was a bizarre, yet fearsome, carving of a pink rabbit, its expression comically stern.
Jannali blinked, her knuckles white on the armrests. "What in the bloody hell was that?" she barked, her voice shaky.
Aokiji stared out at the warship, his usual lazy demeanor completely gone, replaced by genuine astonishment. He turned to look at Marya, his mouth slightly agape.
She met his gaze, her smirk widening. "Don't bother asking," she said, unbuckling her harness with a casual flick. "Family secrets and all."
Galit was already back at his console, his screens flashing with new data. "We have arrived," he stated, as if they'd just parked beside a market. A holographic projection of the Navy vessel materialized above his panel, detailing its size, armament, and identifying markings. "Navy vessel off the port bow. Identification confirms…"
"Vice Admiral Gion's flagship." Everyone turned to look at Aokiji.
He leaned back in his seat, his composure returning as he shrugged. "Of course I know it. 'Pink Rabbit' isn't exactly a subtle epithet."
Jannali recovered quickly, her bravado rushing back. "Right. So, what else do you know, mate? What's her deal?"
"Gion is a candidate for the Admiral position," Aokiji explained, his voice taking on a tactical tone. "Master swordswoman. Her skill with her named blade is formidable. And if she's the escort for your target…" He let the implication hang in the air. "She will not be traveling without additional support. Likely a full contingent of elite Marines."
Atlas cracked his knuckles, a sound like grinding stones. A wide, eager grin split his face. "Good. That means this won't be a boring trip."
Galit sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Kitten, you don't actually think we're going to engage a Vice Admiral's flagship head-on, do you?"
Atlas's grin vanished. He turned his head slowly toward Galit. "What did you just call me?"
Marya cut between them, leaning over Galit's shoulder to study the hologram. Her finger pointed to a spot on the projection, along the starboard side of the massive ship, deep in its shadow. "Enough. Galit, pull us up along here. Stay in their blind spot, hide in their wake. Use the turbulence to mask our sonar signature."
Aokiji raised a brow, impressed despite himself. "Seems like you've done this before."
Marya smirked, looking over her shoulder at him. "I've done a lot of things you probably wouldn't believe." She turned back to Galit. "This tub has an autopilot, but…"
Galit finished her sentence, his tone resigned. "I will stay behind. The autopilot cannot compensate for unforeseen variables." He handed her the Vivre Card, its edge still pulling insistently toward the Navy ship.
Marya placed a brief, appreciative hand on his shoulder. "Don't breach too soon, or we lose our only advantage."
Galit nodded, already turning back to his console, his world once again shrinking to screens, numbers, and the hum of the engine. "Just try not to get everyone killed."
Marya turned to face the assembled, unlikely boarding party in the cramped space. The low thrum of the submarine was a stark contrast to the tension coiling in the air. "When we breach, we won't have a lot of time," she began, her voice calm and cutting through the mechanical drone. "We need to board that ship and find our target quickly."
Aokiji reclined in his seat, the picture of indolent ease, and intertwined his fingers behind his head. "What's the play, then? Stealth? Or surprise?" His tone suggested both were equally tedious.
Jannali's eyes lit up with a mischievous spark. "We should do both." Everyone turned to look at her. She grinned, a flash of white in the dim light. "A distraction. A real ripper of a show. While they're gawkin' at the fireworks, we sneak in the back door."
Marya gave a single, slow nod, a glint of approval in her golden eyes. "I like it." Her gaze shifted to the former admiral. "You, me, and Jelly will be the main attraction. Make it loud, make it messy." She then looked to Atlas and Jannali, handing the Vivre Card to the mink. "You two find our target."
Atlas took the card, his clawed fingers carefully holding the fragile paper. He squinted at the name written there. "Eliane," he read aloud, the name sounding foreign and delicate in his rough voice. "Okay, boss."
"Find her and get out," Marya commanded, her tone leaving no room for error. "The second you're both back on this sub, we retreat. No heroics, no lingering."
Jelly, who had been listening intently, began to wobble with excitement. "Bloop! Fireworks! Loud and messy! I can do messy!"
Aokiji let out a low, rumbling chuckle, a smirk playing on his lips. "A former admiral, the shadow of a warlord, and a sentient dessert causing a scene on a Navy battleship." He shook his head, the smirk widening. "We might just pull this off."
The submarine continued its silent pursuit, a metal shark hiding in the shadow of its colossal prey, its crew poised to unleash a storm of beautiful, chaotic nonsense upon the unsuspecting sea.