3-56. War Plans

Otter had her face pressed against the semi-transparent surface that wasn’t actually glass, but made up one of the windows on the side of the Waverider. Endless ocean looked back at her, and the sky had long since turned to night, which suited their purposes.

“Are we there yet?” she said.

“No,” Sami answered for the hundredth time, said in a tone that made it sound like it was the ten thousandth. 

“How about now?”

“Just sit down. Please.”

Otter flopped back into her seat and huffed. “I’m bored. And anxious. Anyone wanna makeout to pass the time?”

She said it mostly as a joke, but the way Kir blushed let Otter know that she was thinking about it. Probably fantasizing. Which meant Otter’s future chances were pretty good, which was a good thing, because she was considerably less angry with Kir since the meeting with the Dreamers. 

“You probably don’t even kiss well,” Juala said.

“I kiss amazing. I’m good at both soft and tender as well as hard and dominating. Tell her, Sami.”

“She uses too much tongue,” Sami said, not looking up from her sword, which she was sharpening. Which didn’t even make sense to Otter, because it seemed like her stupid Pact should be able to keep it sharp if it also repaired the damn thing from getting beat all to hell. 

“I do not,” Otter protested. “You take that back. I use the correct amount of tongue. You’re stingy with tongue, if anything. Which makes sense, given how you treat spice when you cook.”

“Some of us prefer things that are more subtle.”

“Chili should not taste like Dollar Store salsa-flavoured borscht. And kissing should have lots of tongue. You never complained about my tongue and its use when it was buried in your–”

Kir coughed noisily, and pointed out the window on her side of the cabin. “There are ships outside. Not that far away.”

“Oh, shiny!” Otter said, and dove for the window and pressed her face against it. 

Sure enough, there was a small fleet of ships, lit up with glowing runes along their hull. Most of them were about the size of the Waverider they were in now, but some were larger, sleek looking predators that looked ready for war. None looked like the standard wooden nonsense with sails you’d expect in a fantasy setting. They were all made of the same smooth, stony material as their own ship, an absolute flagrant violation of basic laws of buoyancy and decency. 

Unlike everything else in the Islands, these ships were not a riot of colour, but painted dark, dull blues. The colour of the ocean and the sky. An aesthetic choice, or an attempt at stealth?

“Can they dim those runes?” Otter asked.

“They can,” Juala said. “But won’t until they’re nearing an enemy. The runes power the ship. They can hold power for a few hours after turning off, less if you push the ships hard.”

“Who are they?”

“That big one there? That’s Sureya’s personal ship. The rest… I see pretty much all the major ships in the fleet, as well as a few fishing vessels. Looks like maybe three quarters of what Ri Oa’s got. Maybe a few from other islands. Fables, that’s Soorong’s ship. So much for her being neutral.”

“That one that’s apart? Maybe she’s just watching. Wants to see firsthand the clusterfuck that’s going to happen.”

“Doesn’t matter. She won’t stop it. Sureya’s going to hit Pruana Isle. Probably at dawn.”

“Dawn? She could strike at them from cover of darkness.”

Juala set her mouth in a grim line. “I know how she thinks. She wants to take losses.”

“Why would she want losses?” Kir asked. “Silayan marines work best when they raid, when they take enemies from fast, quick strikes unawares.”

“Because she wants to make martyrs,” Sami said without looking up from her sword. “This is only a small strike force. She isn’t looking to win. She wants to unite all the islands behind her. And to do that, she needs to make them angry. She’s going to fight with the intent to win, but to take as heavy losses as she can. It’s what she did with Il-Su. It’s what she did–”

“With me,” Juala said, cutting her off. “Sureya’s entire strategy is to take a loss to take a greater victory afterwards. She ‘killed’ me to make everyone hate the Mikovians. Then she had that limpdick killed in order to get her way again.”

“And to galvanize people even further into xenophobia,” Sami added. “The fact that Soorong, a neutral party slightly opposed to her, is watching, works in her favour. It’s an impartial, impeachable witness. One who sees the Mikovian aggression, the numbers they shouldn’t have, and how they’re a clear threat. The closest thing we have to an ally in that fleet is probably our enemy’s greatest weapon in the longterm.”

“My sister’s probably on that ship with her. Moami’s only twelve. Best case scenario, Sureya keeps her around, moulding her in her own image. Trying to force her into a shape that she thinks is perfect. Worst case… Moami becomes a casualty of the fight coming up.”

Juala’s grip tightened on her spear as she spoke, but she kept the emotion off her face, out of her voice. She was disassociating. For someone who announced every feeling she had as loudly as she could, it was a worrisome look.

Otter’s menu buzzed, her earlier modifications letting her know Rua was making a call. Otter mentally tapped the button that pulled the call up, motioning everyone else to silence.

Rua looked… Otter wasn’t sure what to describe the emotion she was showing. 

“I have things to tell you. Important things. I only just got away from everyone. Things are happening.”

Rua quickly ran through everything. Her meeting and subsequent deal with Holt. The ‘conversation’ that Holt had the two of them eavesdrop on. Old Grey knowing that Sureya was coming, and wanting the fight. Otter tried to relay what she could to the others every time Rua took a break, but finally came the real bombshell.

“We can’t kill Old Grey,” Rua said.

“Why not? Isn’t he the bad guy?”

“I don’t know. I don’t have enough information. But Old Grey is just an old soldier looking for a fight. He won’t attack the Silayans. He still sees us as allies, I think. But if we attack him, he’ll happily slaughter whoever he can get his hands on - and trust me, we don’t want that, because that’s exactly what he’ll do.”

Otter pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers. She’d had similar thoughts herself, but from the other end. She began to feel the thrum of fate gathering in her fingertips, her Fate Sense beginning to whisper to her. Something was coming. Something that centered on a choice she was going to make.

And she’d already been considering it for a while, in the back of her mind. And it was a lousy choice.

“I don’t think we can let either side fight each other. If Sureya attacks Old Grey, it’s all over. The Silayans rally behind her, and it’s war. If Old Grey is attacked and wins, then more Mikovian reinforcements come through their Wayfaring station. They become more entrenched, and they have reason to begin their own bloody campaign against the Islands. Any nation that would try to defend the Islands will have to contend with the fact that the Silayans just attacked their closest ally unprovoked.”

“So, what do we do?” Kir asked.

Sami looked at her expectantly. She already knew the answer. But she was letting Otter say it. Take the lead.

Otter’s little brain hamster ran on its wheel as quickly as it could, picking up speed. She hated this. Having to be the one to make decisions. She’d rather be in bed, buried in blankets. 

But it was time to grow up.

“We split up. Two teams. One to deal with Sureya. Undermine her somehow. Try to stop the attack. We have Everett drop Team One off on Soorong’s ship, and we work from there. Team Two goes to Pruana Isle.”

“To kill my father,” Kir said plainly.

“To not even confront him. You go around. Under cover of darkness, with Everett using his Pact to make this ship as undetectable as possible. And then you destroy the Wayfaring station. You stop Old Grey from getting the chance of receiving reinforcements.”

“He has Stormcallers defending that side of the island. Even with Everett’s Pact, it won’t be easy getting around them.”

Otter swallowed. She had a second chance, because of Holt’s game. If she died, she could come back. So did Sami. Everett. Probably Vex. Did she have any right giving Kir or Juala orders? Putting them in danger?

Did she have any right doing it with even the people who had a second life, waiting to be used?

“If you start to take fire, you get on the deck, Kir. Let your people see you. They might let you get to shore, and you can feed them a lie. You’ll be in charge of Team Two. You’ll take Sami and Everett. And Vex.”

“Dad,” Vex said, worried. 

“They’re going to need a healer. You’re it. Do me proud.”

Vex paused, and then nodded once. But she didn’t look too confident. 

“That means I’m on Team One with just you?” Juala said.

“Yes. Are you going to complain?”

Juala snorted. “Are you kidding me? The two of us, dealing with Sureya? Sounds perfect to me. We’re gonna have to kill the cunt, though. There’ll be no talking her out of this.”

“I know. And it won’t just be the two of us.”

“No?”

Otter nodded. She said her goodbyes to Rua, and then ended the call. She reopened her menu, and navigated to the player list. She pulled up one name, and hit call.

For the first time in his life, he answered immediately.

“I know you’ve been following us, you vindictive shit. I need your help. You agree, you'll get your chance at revenge on one of the people who's fucked you, and we’ll call everything even.”

“I’m listening,” Il-Su said.