Chapter 68: A Cacophony of Queens
The walk back to the Little Express was a silent parade of mismatched intentions. Léo, having imparted his local knowledge, had been firmly but kindly instructed by his mother to stay home, a command he obeyed with visible reluctance. The promise of being their "intelligence asset" from afar was a small consolation. Clara had watched them go from her doorway, a portrait of maternal anxiety, until they rounded the corner.
Now, only the core group remained, trekking through the quiet suburban streets. Joey walked close to Lyra, a silent, mutual comfort passing between them. He felt less like a runaway and more like a hostage of circumstance, his earlier resolve to stay feeling more like a life sentence with every step. Himeko and Mirajane flanked the small pair, creating a protective buffer against the two tempestuous forces bringing up the rear.
And what forces they were. Erza Scarlet and Boa Hancock had resumed their cold war, marching with a gap between them wide enough to accommodate a small vehicle, their animosity a palpable force that seemed to curdle the air.
"This is an absurd waste of time," Hancock declared, breaking the silence as they passed a particularly well-manicured lawn. "We should be commandeering this planet's primary communication arrays to contact my empire, not skulking through these… symmetrical prisons for the unimaginative."
"Your 'empire' is in another dimension, Hancock," Erza retorted, her voice sharp with impatience. "Unless you can scream loud enough to tear a hole in reality, commandeering a satellite dish will do nothing. Our priority, as established by Himeko, is reconnaissance."
"Reconnaissance is for underlings," Hancock sniffed. "A true queen acts, she does not 'reconnoiter'. One simply identifies the source of the problem and… removes it. With overwhelming force and undeniable style."
"And what happens when your 'overwhelming force' smashes the wrong thing? Or alerts the Conqueror to our exact location and capabilities before we're prepared?" Erza challenged, turning to glare at her. "Strategy is not a weakness. It is the foundation of every victory I have ever earned for my guild!"
"Your 'victories' seem to involve a great deal of rubble, screaming, and what I can only assume are appalling property damage costs," Hancock countered silkily. "My victories are clean, efficient, and usually result in a new statue of myself being commissioned by a grateful and adoring populace."
By the time they reached the probe, the atmosphere was thick enough to be flammable. Himeko, with a weary sigh, ushered them inside and immediately brought the holographic map back online. "Alright," she said, forcing a professional tone. "Let's formulate a plan for the scrapyard and the industrial park. A two-pronged approach seems most efficient."
She proposed a simple division: One team for each location. "Mirajane and I can investigate the industrial park. Pip's energy signature, while faint, is more stable there. It suggests a semi-permanent nest. We can approach with caution, our primary goal being to make peaceful contact."
"Which leaves myself and this… this walking cutlery drawer… for the scrapyard," Hancock finished, her voice dripping with venom.
"I am a knight!" Erza snapped. "An S-Class Mage of Fairy Tail! Not a piece of tableware!"
"The distinction is lost on me," Hancock murmured, examining her reflection in the dark screen of a nearby monitor.
"The scrapyard is a more volatile location," Himeko continued, pointedly ignoring them. "Zylar is an unknown. He's an escaped captive, likely desperate and paranoid. A more… robust team is required in case contact turns hostile. Erza, Miss Hancock, your combined power would be… a significant deterrent."
"Deterrent?" Hancock laughed, a cold, humorless sound. "My dear Navigator, my presence alone is enough to pacify armies. I hardly need the assistance of this… loud, irritable woman."
"And I hardly need to be partnered with a 'queen' whose primary combat strategy is to expect the enemy to die of sheer adoration!" Erza shot back. "Give me Natsu and Gray any day! At least their bickering is productive!"
"I agree with Himeko's assessment," Mirajane interjected, her smile unwavering but her eyes firm. "Your strength is undeniable, both of you. Together, you could handle any surprise Zylar might have. It is the most logical pairing." Her placid agreement left little room for argument without appearing utterly unreasonable.
With a great deal of theatrical sighing from Hancock and a low growl of frustration from Erza, the plan was grudgingly accepted. Joey and Lyra were to remain on the Little Express, monitored by Himeko through the comms. It was deemed the safest place for them.
As Himeko and Mirajane prepared their gear – scanners for Himeko, a small pouch of "contingency items" for Mirajane – the argument between their reconnaissance team continued to escalate.
"I will take point," Erza declared, studying the scrapyard layout. "My defenses are more suited for an unknown approach."
"You will do no such thing," Hancock countered instantly. "I refuse to follow the lead of someone who likely trips over her own armored feet. I will lead. My grace and poise will allow for a far stealthier infiltration."
"Stealthy? You stand out like a peacock in a flock of pigeons!"
"It is called 'presence,' something you lack entirely!"
"It's called being a target!"
As they argued, their voices rising in pitch and intensity, something strange began to happen. It started subtly. A word here and there seemed to… ripple. When Hancock said "presence," for a split second, it sounded to Joey like "pre-zzzz-ence," a strange, buzzing distortion that made him tilt his head.
Erza, in her heated reply, snapped, "You wouldn't know a tactical advantage if it—" and the word "advantage" came out as "ad-vahn-taaju," the end of the word twisting into something melodic and foreign. She blinked, shaking her head as if to clear it.
Himeko, who was handing a scanner to Mirajane, paused. Her eyes narrowed. "Did you…?"
Mirajane nodded slowly, her gentle face clouded with confusion. "It sounded… strange."
Then, it became more pronounced.
"Do not lecture me on tactics, onna!" Hancock spat, the foreign word slipping out, sharp and alien. At the same time, a faint, almost subliminal shimmer appeared in the air near her throat, like a piece of glass catching the light. It was gone as soon as it appeared.
"And do not presume to command me, Heika!" Erza shot back, another unfamiliar word escaping her lips. The same shimmer flickered near her own throat, a ghostly, transparent glyph that seemed to lose its color as it faded.
They both stopped, looking at each other in sudden, shared confusion.
"What did you just call me?" Erza demanded, but her words were already slurring. "What did anata just call me?"
"I… I don't know," Hancock admitted, a rare look of bewilderment on her face. "Your speech is becoming… garbled. Like a commoner chewing on marbles. Nani o itte iru no?"
The effect was accelerating. As they spoke, their words began to fracture. The universal translation effect, the gift of the gray stone, was failing. It was as if the sheer, vitriolic energy of their argument was overloading the delicate magic, causing it to short-circuit.
"Your kotoba is the one that is… breaking!" Erza insisted, frustration mounting as the very words in her mouth felt foreign and clumsy. "I am speaking kanpeki ni plainly!"
The transparent "devices," the faint, ghostly glyphs of the translation magic, began to flicker more rapidly near their throats, now visible to everyone in the cabin. They were losing their solidity, their faint internal light dimming, becoming a pale, watery transparency.
Joey stared, his mouth agape. He could see them clearly now – faint, shimmering shapes that pulsed with each woman's words, and with each pulse, they seemed to grow fainter, more ethereal. Lyra let out a frightened gasp and pointed a trembling finger.
Himeko raised her datapad, its sensors whirring. "Incredible… The psycho-reactive field is destabilizing. It's losing cohesion! The energy that forms the translation matrix is dissipating!"
"What does that mean?!" Joey asked, his voice high with panic.
"It means," Himeko said, her eyes wide with scientific awe, "that whatever allowed them to understand us, and each other, is failing."
The argument had now devolved into a cacophony of confusion.
"Watashi no iu koto o rikai dekinai no ka, kono yoroi-onna?!" Hancock demanded, her words now completely incomprehensible to Joey, Himeko, and Mirajane, though the furious, imperious tone was unmistakable.
"Kisama no sonkei no nen no nai taido koso ga mondai da!" Erza yelled back, her own language just as alien, her frustration evident in her wild gesturing.
They stared at each other, two powerful queens suddenly rendered mutually unintelligible, their greatest weapons – their wills, their words – suddenly useless. Their argument, which had been a firestorm of insults, had dissolved into a frustrated, confused shouting match across a chasm of language they could no longer bridge.
The flickering, transparent glyphs near their throats gave one last, pathetic pulse, lost the last of their faint color, and vanished completely.
Silence fell once more in the Little Express. But this was not the silence of tension or anger. It was the profound, bewildered silence of utter, absolute non-communication.
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