Since it was a floating island, of course it could move. For now, though, Hikaru could only push it along at thirty knots. Whether the island would gain a speed bonus once its level increased, he had no idea.
Maybe one day it would even fly.
Thinking about her commander, Saratoga glanced back over her shoulder—though all she could see was the blue-gray metal roof of the warehouse.
Ever since last night, brother-in-law had locked himself up in the construction dock doing who-knows-what.
He said he had a trump card. Hmph, all mysterious—wouldn't even tell his favorite little sister-in-law.
Saratoga turned back, only to find Bismarck standing ramrod straight beside her. The bitter sea wind whipped up her short hair, and in that black leather outfit she looked as dashing and imposing as a spear point.
Even as a fellow woman, Saratoga had to admit—Bismarck's heroic aura was every bit as overwhelming as her elder sister's gentleness. Both were lethal weapons of attraction, impossible to compare.
Not that she'd ever say it aloud. That damned cat thief—last night after dinner, she actually asked brother-in-law to stay and cook with her. The two of them, feeding each other, teasing each other—it was enough to make anyone jealous. No, worse—it was enough to make someone sick with envy.
Heh. Too bad cooking skill isn't built in a day. Last night brother-in-law had eaten until his face went pale, nearly vomiting.
Spitting it out would've been much easier, but that idiot forced himself to hold it down just to spare Bismarck's feelings.
Fortunately, afterward big sister had taken Bismarck aside to tell her—she could practice cooking if she liked, but unless it passed inspection she wasn't allowed to "feed" brother-in-law again.
Surely Bismarck would rein herself in a little. She still had some sense of shame. Unlike Tirpitz—hmph, shameless, clinging to brother-in-law at night to sleep in his arms!
The girl's thoughts had gone in a full circle before she realized her sister hadn't answered her question. "Sister?"
"Oh, did you call me?" Lexington tilted her head, as if listening to something far away. She came back to herself with a smile. "Franya was contacting me just now, so I didn't hear."
Saratoga blinked. "Franya? Who's that, and why would she contact you?"
"I'll explain in a bit."
Remembering that Saratoga had never met Viribus Unitis, Lexington waved over to Glowworm, who was running around weaving protective spells. "Glowworm, come here. I have a task for you."
Shipgirls each possessed their own supernatural powers, though compared to the sheer destructive force of their rigging, those powers were at least a tier weaker.
At level ninety-plus, Glowworm's magic was barely equal to the strength of an eighty-something shipgirl—at best useful for shielding against stray blasts.
Obeying the order, she ran over, wand clutched tight. "Miss Lexington, what is it?"
Lexington traced glowing blue runes in the air. They condensed onto a petal of shimmering blue light, which she set gently in Glowworm's hand. "Take this to the Commander. Let him decide."
"What if I can't wake him up right away? He's in the construction dock—should I wait outside?"
"No need. If you can't hand it to him, let Vampire deliver it… no, better yet, give it to California to pass on. Then hurry back—we still need you here."
Feeling important, Glowworm scampered back toward the base.
Saratoga chuckled. "Sister really does love blue flowers."
"Well, I am the 'Blue Lady.' Commander says I look especially beautiful with a touch of blue."
A gentle smile warmed Lexington's face, making her younger sister feel that same pang of envy again.
Then Lexington recalled Saratoga's earlier report. "Oh, right—what did you just say?"
Saratoga's expression turned serious. "Two hundred and fifty nautical miles out, Abyssal carriers are forming up. They may be preparing for a bombing run. Should we launch a preemptive strike?"
In truth, at around three or four in the morning, Lexington had already led the carrier group in a bombing raid.
That strike had nearly blown the head off the Abyssal missile destroyer Zumwalt, who was leading their vanguard. She'd furiously lobbed a few missiles back—none hitting the base—before scurrying away in embarrassment.
That was the awkwardness of missile destroyers: both their strike range and recon range were inferior to carriers, leaving them easy prey.
Now, with their vanguard bloodied, the Abyssal host had halted two hundred and fifty miles out. From the look of it, they meant to advance step by step, steadily and cautiously.
[End of Chapter]
[100 Power Stones = Extra Chapter]
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