A Weapon’s Serenade

Once again, executor Focalor marched onto the bridge of the Nemesis. “What is going on here?!”

Baal, the angel who had just teleported onto the bridge a few moments ago, greeted the executor with a polite bow. “I apologize for my unannounced arrival. Rest assured, I am not here for conflict.”

“Then why are you here?”

“It was decided that we should be on the right side of history for once and that we need someone here to coordinate any efforts we might undertake with you.”

“Uh-hu, and what are those efforts supposed to be?”

“That is up to you. I was given authority over, well, vast resources to assist you with. I was ordered to not act without your order and follow any order you give. The only thing I question is the reason why I was sent. I don’t see the necessity to assist currently, you seem to have everything under control.”

Focalor sighed. “We’ll show you why I think you were sent in a moment. First, I need you to know that Thrasir’s daughter is part of this operation. She might not approve of your presence.”

Baal frowned. “It is a confrontation long overdue, but I will be open to her daughter about all I did in the past. If she wishes me to leave, I will ask for my superiors to sent someone else. I… hope she can tolerate my presence until this operation is over.”

“We will see. Now, take a look at this.” Focalor motioned to the front of the bridge as a representation of the surrounding ocean flickered into existence. “Nemesis, if you would.”

Nemesis’ image appeared beside the executor. “Gladly, executor. As you have noticed, there is a warship outside. The United States of America know we are here, despite our stealth systems. A few days ago, we were warned that they sent out a ‘specialist’ to deal with us. Yesterday, we received information that this specialist is going to meet with a group of ships to increase the military presence we are facing.” Nemesis gestured to a section of the projection before her. “This is the so-called carrier group that has received orders to reinforce the ship outside. According to my analysis, the ships will arrive here within the next week. This is the information the executor has. I have also found another problem.”

“I see.” Baal rubbed his chin. “I am unfamiliar with the capabilities of this new generation of chariots, but I can order a strike force to stand by. Do you anticipate a fight?”

Focalor turned to look out the front window. “Not if we can avoid it. Protecting the portal and the sirens is our priority. Any form of combat up here will be dangerous to our friends in the depths. But if it comes to it, we can deal with those ships. Still, having your team ready to jump in would be good. Nemesis, what is the problem you found?”

Nemesis moved the projection and zoomed in on a region on the opposite site from the approaching ships. “This. It appears to be some form of submersible vessel. It is armed. My analysis shows that it cannot dive deep enough to use the portal but I have not been able to conclusively analyse its weapons.”

“That is indeed a problem.” Focalor started pacing back and forth.

Baal tilted his head. “We are currently resting on the water surface?”

“We are, yes.”

“Can you lift this chariot without disrupting the portal below?”

“That wouldn’t be a problem. Why?”

“Posturing. Under the assumption that the approaching submersible vessel and the specialist are related, the underwater attack abilities are likely unique. The group of ships cannot deal with us if we are under water. I also assume the specialist knows who and what you are and what this chariot is. He will know that we can hide underwater. In my opinion, the best option is to show strength, that we don't fear them and are ready to face them head on, but also voice the willingness to talk.”

“Not a bad idea. Nemesis, what do you think?”

Nemesis’ eyes darted around. “My assessment agrees that we should take a combat-ready stance. I am prepared to lift the chariot on your command.”

“Alright, do it.”

Nemesis nodded. The chariot gently lifted itself from the wave. No motion was felt inside as it slowly rose into the air, its wings folding themselves into their normal configuration again. The Nemesis slowly turned to face the USS George Hammond.

“Captain Harriman is attempting to contact us.”

Focalor nodded. “Put him through.”

“Unidentified vessel, this is captain Harriman. You agreed to hold position, explain yourself.”

“This is captain Focalor. We have noticed the approaching ships and have adjusted our position in accordance with this new situation. This is not an act of aggression but a safety precaution. We will remain here as agreed.”

“Understood. Please refrain from any further actions until the specialist has arrived. Harriman out.”

Focalor sighed as the connection was cut. “Nemesis, I need you to be ready to raise our defences the moment they use any form of weapon.”

Nemesis nodded. “Understood. I must inform you that our shielding spells are not designed to extend to protect the tether and the portal. I can modify them in the moment but I do not know if they will weaken if extended in this manner.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Baal, you are a smooth-talking bootlicker, right?”

Baal chuckled. “I am, yes.”

“Your skills might actually come in handy. You will be our voice to speak to the specialist.”

“Of course. I promise to not disappoint.”

“I don’t expect you to. If you have proven anything over the millennia, it’s that you can weasel your way out of anything. This time we need you to weasel us out of this with you.”

“I will take that as a compliment and I will do my best.”

“Oh, it was meant as such. Speaking of weasels, I remember the courts had informants in many of the major governments in this world. Do you still have those?”

“We do.”

“Can you get us some information about the specialist from them? This person is too nebulous for my tastes.”

“I will request information.”

“Good. Before you do that, let’s get you a proper place here. We have guest quarters ready.”

“Oh, thank you. I appreciate that.”

Focalor gestured for Baal to follow her.

Captain Harriman stood atop the deck of the USS George Hammond, looking up at the demonic chariot before him. Another crewmember approached him.

“Sir.”

“Yes, lieutenant?”

“We have received a communique.”

“What does it say?”

“Sir, I believe the source is of importance.”

Harriman turned away from the chariot to face the lieutenant beside him. “Oh?”

“It’s from the USS Corpus Christi.”

“Shouldn’t that be City of Corpus Christi? But that can't be. That submarine was decommissioned years ago.”

“No sir, the identification is correct.”

Harriman ran his hand through his hair. “Given all that is currently happening, that is worrying.”

“I agree, sir. Would you like me to read the message to you?”

“Sure.”

“Approaching theatre. Do not trust the specialist. Inform us of unusual orders. Then there is this code.” The lieutenant handed captain Harriman a piece of paper.

It took a moment for the captain to realize what he was looking at. “Lieutenant, of the records, do you know what this code is?”

“No sir.”

“Do you truly not know or are you just not allowed to tell me if you knew?”

“I really don’t know it, sir.”

“This is major trouble. With the admiral so coy about what this thing up there is and why we need this specialist and the Thomas Whitmore, I don’t trust any of this. I can’t even trust that whoever the captain of the Corpus Christi is, is on our side. Would you follow my orders even if they seem to go against orders from higher up?”

“Of course, sir. I would rather trust you than whatever desk jockey is sending us these orders. May I speak freely?”

“Go ahead.”

“I am scared, sir. I would prefer if we were to leave this to the specialist and the other ships. This is above our paygrade. There are rumours among the crew that this is going to be our last mission, in a bad way. Whatever we are facing here is way beyond us. Just look at it. What are we even going to do against something like that.”

“We run. This is not going to be our end, not under my command. My first responsibility is to this crew, not to whatever desk jockey is sending us to die. I am not going to fight powers beyond our imagination. Court-martial is preferable to death. Maybe we should prepare a surrender message, just in case. And, of course, be ready to flee at any moment.”

“Shall I prepare the message, sir?”

Harriman shook his head. “I will do it myself. We have a few days until everyone arrives. That gives us a bit of time to prepare properly and inform the crew. You are a clever guy, right?”

“I don’t know, sir. The engineers are smarter than me.”

“But you are creative.”

“People do tell me that, yes, sir.”

“Then I have a special task for you. Find a way to communicate with Focalor that cannot easily be listened in on. Even if she is our adversary right now, she might be our ticket out of here.”

“Understood, sir. I will get to work immediately.”

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