Horizon Atoll: Hearts of Steel

The Commander Discovers a Terrible Problem

The third argument of the morning involved a volleyball.

The fourth involved a forklift.

The fifth involved a South Dakota-class battleship who had apparently informed a maintenance technician that she could recalibrate her own equipment if everyone would kindly stop treating her like an idiot.

Chief Engineer Dain Okoro had responded by asking whether the battleship intended to repair the damaged elevation sensor using threats.

Scarlett Hayes had reportedly considered the question before answering that the method had produced promising results.

It had not.

By eleven o’clock, Commander Kade Bher had three complaints, two requests for disciplinary clarification, and a maintenance incident report sitting on his desk.

He also had a headache.

Not an especially serious headache. Merely the sort that appeared when an eighteen-year-old naval commander discovered that the inhabitants of his military installation possessed enough collective stubbornness to defeat an entire administrative department.

Kade sat behind his desk, reading the latest personnel-status sheet while a ceiling fan pushed warm air around the office. Sunlight entered through the open window. Somewhere outside, two repair vehicles were reversing simultaneously, producing an overlapping chorus of warning signals that sounded like a particularly incompetent musical performance.

He looked down at the report again.

HORIZON ATOLL — PERSONNEL READINESS AND WELFARE REVIEW

The document was not encouraging.

Nobody had submitted a formal complaint about the workload.

That was the problem.

Everyone was simply working.

The engineering department had been operating extended shifts since Breakwater’s return. The harbor staff were handling the supplies recovered from the Burnt Narrows while continuing repairs to the station’s neglected infrastructure. Medical personnel were monitoring the wounded, and the security division was revising procedures based on everything VESPER had encountered during its disastrous little excursion into an enemy-held industrial district.

The Keelborn training schedule was particularly unpleasant.

Not because the instruction was poor.

On the contrary, the instructors were good, the training program was practical, and the girls were improving.

But the same names appeared again and again.

Morning instruction.

Equipment familiarization.

Gunnery.

Maneuvering.

Damage control.

Debriefing.

Maintenance.

More instruction.

More maintenance.

Occasional meals.

Inadequate sleep.

Then the next morning.

Kade turned a page.

Aster’s recovery was progressing, though Irena remained emphatically unwilling to approve strenuous activity. June was improving, but still restricted from heavy exertion and rigging operation. Elsa had returned to limited duties with a carefully controlled workload.

Riko had completed another inspection of her Mk. I Yamato-class equipment and was now pestering Hana about additional training.

Yuna had resumed limited aviation maintenance supervision, although she still tired easily and was not cleared for unrestricted flying operations.

Mina and Emi were progressing well enough that their instructors had begun arguing about when the two should receive further intermediate-rigging exercises.

Even Scarlett, whose South Dakota-class equipment had recently demonstrated a remarkable ability to annoy both its wearer and the engineering staff, was improving.

On paper, everything looked productive.

In practice, Kade had watched three girls nearly fall asleep during breakfast.

He’d seen a technician standing beside a vending machine, staring at it as though unable to remember why he’d approached.

And the previous afternoon, Corwin Hale had caught himself trying to file a requisition under the wrong month.

Corwin.

The man who regarded a misfiled cargo form as a personal insult.

That was when Kade realized the situation had become serious.

He closed the welfare report.

Then leaned back.

Outside, somebody shouted.

”KEEP YOUR KNEES BENT!”

A splash followed.

Then another voice:

”I DID!”

A third voice responded:

”APPARENTLY NOT ENOUGH!”

Kade slowly turned toward the window.

Far beyond the administration building, the Keelborn training area lay along one of Horizon’s controlled shoreline sectors. The girls were practicing stability recovery under the supervision of their instructors.

It was important training.

After June’s near-drowning during the battle, nobody would reasonably argue otherwise.

But Kade had begun to suspect that another morning of shouted instructions might make half the roster contemplate desertion.

He sighed.

Then reached for the telephone.

”Command switchboard.”

”Victor?”

”Yes, Commander?”

”Find Chief Fenwick for me.”

”She’s at Harbor Engineering.”

”Good.”

”Do you need her urgently?”

Kade looked toward the welfare report.

Then considered the question.

”Depends.”

A pause.

Victor sounded wary.

”On what, sir?”

”On whether it’s possible for an entire naval base to die of overwork without anybody noticing.”

The operator remained silent for several seconds.

Then answered:

”I’ll get the Chief.”

”Thank you.”

Kade lowered the receiver.

He glanced toward the window again.

Somewhere beyond the maintenance buildings, the ocean glittered beneath a nearly cloudless sky.

Bright blue.

Warm.

Beautiful.

The kind of weather that made a person want to abandon every responsibility and sit under an umbrella with something cold to drink.

Kade considered that.

Then slowly looked toward the pile of reports on his desk.

A remarkable idea occurred to him.

An idea so radical that the Admiralty Union’s personnel department might have needed several committees to approve it.

He reached for a clean sheet of paper.

At the top, he wrote:

RECREATIONAL LEAVE PROPOSAL

Then, beneath it:

SEVEN DAYS.

He stared at the words.

A small smile appeared.

”Oh, they’re going to love this.”

 Mara Fenwick arrived seventeen minutes later carrying a clipboard, a radio, and the expression of a woman who had been informed that her commanding officer was considering something stupid.

She entered without knocking.

Kade looked up.

”Chief.”

”Commander.”

She closed the door.

Then regarded him.

”Victor said you were worried the station might die.”

Kade considered that.

”An exaggerated summary.”

Mara raised an eyebrow.

”Was it?”

”Possibly.”

She folded her arms.

”What happened?”

Kade pushed the welfare report toward her.

”Read.”

The Chief glanced down.

Her expression changed as she examined the figures.

Not surprise.

Recognition.

Kade noticed.

”You knew.”

Mara sighed.

”Of course I knew.”

”Then why didn’t you say something?”

The older woman looked toward him.

”Commander, I’ve been telling Engineering to rotate its people for the past week.”

Kade blinked.

”Oh.”

”And Irena has been complaining about exhaustion since before the Burnt Narrows.”

”Right.”

”Eliza has been feeding people who apparently believe eating lunch at their workstations counts as a leisure activity.”

Kade winced.

Mara looked directly at him.

”One of them is sitting in this room.”

He considered that.

Then looked away.

”...Allegedly.”

The Chief sighed.

For a moment, she studied his face.

He looked better than he had immediately after the battle. The dark circles beneath his eyes had faded slightly, and he’d stopped surviving almost entirely on reheated coffee.

But he still had the habit of treating every new problem as something that required his personal attention.

Mara knew the type.

She’d worked with commanding officers before.

Some had been excellent.

Others had been disasters wearing expensive uniforms.

Kade was an unusual case.

He cared.

Far too much, sometimes.

And she was beginning to suspect that nobody had ever explained to him that a competent commander was allowed to sleep.

She sat opposite him.

”All right.”

Kade raised an eyebrow.

”All right?”

”What are you proposing?”

He slid the second sheet across the desk.

Mara looked down.

Read the heading.

Then raised her eyes.

”Recreational leave?”

”Yes.”

”Seven days?”

”Yes.”

She looked toward the window.

Then back.

”Commander.”

Kade braced himself.

”Yes?”

”Do you understand this is a naval installation?”

He nodded solemnly.

”I had noticed the battleship.”

Mara’s mouth twitched.

”That isn’t what I mean.”

”I know.”

Kade leaned forward.

”I’m not proposing that everyone abandon their posts. Harbor Control stays staffed. Medical stays open. We maintain the airfield, communications, security, and engineering emergency watches.”

Mara listened.

”Breakwater keeps the repair and safety personnel she needs,” he continued. ”The maintenance teams rotate instead of shutting down everything. We keep the perimeter patrols and the contamination restrictions in place.”

He tapped the document.

”But everyone who can be released gets a proper week without routine training, unnecessary administrative work, or someone yelling at them to improve their turning radius.”

Mara considered that.

”What about essential personnel?”

”Rotation. Compensatory leave if their watch falls during the week.”

”And those still receiving treatment?”

”Whatever Irena permits. Sitting under an umbrella counts as recreation. Running a beach-volleyball tournament with a healing fragment wound does not.”

The Chief looked toward him.

Kade smiled pleasantly.

”I anticipate Aster may need that explained.”

Mara began laughing.

Then she looked at the proposal again.

For a while, the office was quiet.

She turned a page.

Read the staffing arrangements.

Checked the dates.

Then raised one eyebrow.

”You’re suspending nonessential training.”

”For seven days.”

”And nonurgent maintenance.”

”Only where it can safely wait.”

”You’re authorizing the use of the southern recreation beach?”

”After Security and Harbor Engineering complete another survey.”

Mara nodded slowly.

That mattered.

The lagoon area where Aster had encountered the Blackwake organic mine remained sealed. There were contaminated sectors elsewhere along the coast, and Horizon’s patrol crews had no intention of treating sunshine as proof that the water was safe.

But the southern coastal recreation area was separate from the restricted lagoon.

It had previously been surveyed, and a fresh inspection could determine whether it remained suitable.

There was no reason to deny everyone access to the entire island simply because one part of it was dangerous.

Mara looked toward Kade.

”You’ve thought about this.”

He smiled.

”A little.”

She glanced toward the staffing schedule again.

Then frowned.

”Who’s covering the command watch?”

Kade looked toward the sheet.

”The duty officers and established station watch system. You’re senior station coordinator during my recreational block. Urgent decisions still come to me.”

Mara stared.

Then her expression changed.

She narrowed her eyes.

”Kade.”

He became suspicious.

”...Chief.”

”Where will you be?”

Kade smiled.

A very innocent smile.

”On leave.”

”Where?”

”Around.”

Mara folded her arms.

”That isn’t an answer.”

He considered that.

Then shrugged.

”Somewhere very peaceful.”

The Chief stared.

He looked back.

A long silence followed.

Then Mara sighed.

”You’re going to hide in your room.”

Kade looked offended.

”Hide is such an ugly word.”

”Commander.”

”I prefer strategic withdrawal.”

She closed her eyes.

For several seconds, the woman seemed to be deciding whether she could legally throw a clipboard at her commanding officer.

Then she looked down at the proposal.

Despite herself, she smiled.

”All right.”

Kade brightened.

”Really?”

”With proper watch coverage, medical restrictions, and a confirmed safety survey.”

He nodded rapidly.

”Absolutely.”

Mara reached for a pen.

Then paused.

”And you’re taking the week off too.”

Kade’s smile became smaller.

”...Define off.”

The Chief raised her eyes.

”Sleeping. Eating. Not spending sixteen hours reading requisition forms.”

He considered that.

Then nodded.

”Sounds wonderful.”

”Not sneaking into the office at two in the morning.”

”Unreasonable.”

”Kade.”

”Fine.”

She signed the recommendation.

Then pushed it back toward him.

He looked at the signature.

Then smiled.

”Chief.”

”Yes?”

”You’re a wonderful woman.”

Mara stood.

”Tell me that after Irena finds out how much coffee you’re still drinking.”

Kade’s smile vanished.

She headed toward the door.

Then stopped.

”Oh, Commander?”

He looked up.

”Yes?”

”If you really intend to spend the entire week hiding in your quarters, somebody is going to come looking for you.”

Kade considered that.

Then smiled faintly.

”Let them try.”

Mara looked at him for several seconds.

Then shook her head.

”You’re going to regret saying that.”

She left.

Kade watched the door close.

Then looked toward the signed leave proposal.

His smile widened.

”Seven days.”

He leaned back.

”Seven beautiful days.”

Outside, another training whistle sounded.

A girl shouted something extremely uncomplimentary about stabilizer frames.

Kade looked toward the window.

Then reached for the station-wide announcement form.

It was time.

 The Most Beautiful Notice in Horizon’s History

The notice appeared at thirteen hundred hours.

Printed copies were placed in the barracks, workshops, mess hall, training facilities, SIA quarters, and administrative buildings.

The communications department also broadcast it over the station announcement system.

For the first time in several weeks, the entire base seemed to stop and listen.

HORIZON ATOLL NAVAL STATION

COMMAND NOTICE — PERSONNEL REST AND RECREATION

Effective next Monday, Horizon Atoll will observe seven days of scheduled recreational leave. Routine nonessential training and nonurgent duties will be suspended or reduced. All eligible personnel, including Keelborn, SIA, Sensha personnel, attached naval crews, and civilian station staff, may participate in approved recreational activities during their released periods.

Essential services, medical treatment, repairs affecting immediate safety, harbor operations, security patrols, and emergency readiness will continue under a reduced-duty rotation. Personnel assigned to essential watches will receive compensatory recreational time.

The southern recreation beach will open after a renewed safety survey. Restricted lagoon and contamination areas remain strictly prohibited. Swimming is limited to marked zones under posted supervision.

Available activities will include beach recreation, organized games, shared meals, and other appropriate morale events. Participation is voluntary.

Personnel requiring medical clearance must receive it before swimming, athletic activity, or other strenuous recreation.

All equipment and weapons remain subject to station safety rules. Keelborn rigging is not permitted in recreational swimming areas except under authorized duty conditions.

Take the opportunity to rest. You have earned it.

— Commander Kade Bher

For several seconds after the announcement ended, the Akashi-class repair workshop was silent.

Hana Saeki stared at the notice.

Then looked toward Tali.

The synthetic technician looked back.

Hana read the date again.

Then slowly placed her pencil on the desk.

”...A week?”

Tali nodded.

”Seven days.”

Hana considered that.

Then looked toward the enormous repair backlog.

”An entire week?”

”Subject to the approved duty rotation.”

The repair ship girl stared.

Tali continued.

”You will still have some scheduled essential inspections.”

Hana nodded.

”Of course.”

”But routine nonurgent work has been suspended.”

Hana looked toward the notice again.

For a moment, she seemed deeply suspicious.

Then she whispered:

”...Can we do that?”

Tali considered the question.

”The Commander appears to believe so.”

Hana sat back.

A strange expression crossed her face.

Relief.

Confusion.

The dawning realization that she might have an afternoon when nobody asked her to inspect a damaged gun mount.

Then she smiled.

A huge smile.

”Oh!”

Tali raised an eyebrow.

Hana stood.

”OH!”

The synthetic technician tilted her head.

”Hana?”

The repair ship girl began laughing.

”We get a holiday!”

 At the Keelborn training grounds, the reaction was considerably louder.

Riko Minase was halfway through a supervised maintenance exercise when the announcement reached the equipment platform.

She stood beside her Yamato-class Mk. I rigging, its heavy assistance framework secured to a servicing stand.

Several technicians were examining the recoil-support assemblies.

Riko herself had been attempting to understand an unusually unpleasant maintenance diagram.

Then she heard the words seven days.

Her head snapped up.

”What?”

The instructor turned toward the announcement speaker.

The notice continued.

Riko listened.

Then slowly raised both hands.

”YES!”

Several people jumped.

The instructor sighed.

”Minase.”

Riko spun around.

”WE GET A WEEK OFF!”

”Yes, I heard.”

”A WHOLE WEEK!”

”Yes.”

”NO GUNNERY DRILLS!”

”Correct.”

”NO STABILIZER EXERCISES!”

”Subject to the schedule, yes.”

Riko stared at him.

Then threw both fists into the air.

”BEACH WEEK!”

The instructor closed his eyes.

Behind her, Scarlett Hayes was sitting on a maintenance bench, watching a technician examine her South Dakota-class elevation mechanism.

She listened to the announcement.

Then looked toward the machinery.

The warning indicator remained dark.

For once.

Scarlett folded her arms.

”Did you hear that?”

The technician glanced up.

”Hear what?”

She pointed toward the equipment.

”You get seven days without me.”

The man considered that.

Then nodded.

”I think we’ll both appreciate it.”

Scarlett looked offended.

”Excuse me?”

The technician smiled.

”Enjoy your leave, Miss Hayes.”

She stared.

Then slowly smiled back.

”...You too.”

Riko rushed over.

”SCARLETT!”

The older battleship girl turned.

”What?”

”Beach!”

Scarlett raised an eyebrow.

”Yes. I heard.”

”Swimming!”

”Probably.”

”Volleyball!”

”Maybe.”

”BARBECUE!”

Scarlett considered that.

Then smiled.

”Now you’re talking.”

Riko leaned closer.

”Do you have a swimsuit?”

Scarlett blinked.

A pause.

Then she looked toward the workshop.

”...I suppose I’d better check.”

Riko grinned.

The technician quietly closed the maintenance panel.

He had a feeling Horizon’s supply stores were about to receive an entirely different category of requisition.

 In the SIA training area, Cassidy Boone heard the announcement while cleaning a training mat.

She stopped.

Listened.

Then slowly turned toward Zofia Kowalska.

Zofia looked back.

Neither spoke.

Then Cassidy whispered:

”Beach.”

Zofia’s eyes widened.

”Beach.”

Réka Varga looked up from her equipment locker.

”Did somebody say beach?”

Morgan Reyes lowered the training schedule she’d been reading.

”No.”

Cassidy turned.

Morgan sighed.

”I know that look.”

Cassidy grinned.

”What look?”

”The one you get when you’re about to make my life complicated.”

Zofia smiled brightly.

”Beach volleyball.”

Réka nodded.

”Barbecue.”

Darya Belova looked up from a technical manual.

”Swimming.”

Lara Baumann considered the announcement.

Then smiled.

”Rest.”

Alina Morozova stood near the doorway with a clipboard.

She listened to the last portion of the notice.

Then nodded thoughtfully.

”All right.”

Cassidy turned toward her.

”Northline.”

Alina looked up.

”Yes?”

”Are we organizing a beach day?”

The Russian woman considered that.

Then nodded.

”Within the safety rules.”

Cassidy grinned.

”Perfect!”

Alina raised one finger.

”No weapons.”

Cassidy looked wounded.

”I wasn’t going to bring my revolver.”

Morgan stared.

Cassidy sighed.

”Why does nobody believe me?”

Greta Falk, who had been quietly checking the storage area, spoke without turning around.

”Experience.”

Zofia burst out laughing.

Cassidy slowly pointed toward her.

”That’s betrayal.”

Greta continued securing the equipment.

”You’ll survive.”

Nearby, Johanna Weiss raised an eyebrow.

”What about food?”

Réka grinned.

”Eliza.”

The entire room became quiet.

Then Morgan nodded.

”That’s a very good point.”

Cassidy looked toward the doorway.

Her expression became one of profound determination.

”Ladies.”

Alina sighed.

”Oh, no.”

”We have a mission.”

”What mission?”

Cassidy grinned.

”Convince the kitchen to give us barbecue.”

Zofia raised her fist.

”FOR HORIZON!”

Morgan closed her eyes.

Somewhere behind them, Mira—the native SIA officer responsible for much of their training—looked toward the ceiling.

For once, however, she was smiling.

They needed this.

Every single one of them.

And if allowing Cassidy Boone to become temporarily obsessed with grilled food meant the women would stop reliving their worst moments in the Burnt Narrows for an afternoon, Mira was prepared to consider the idea an excellent operational investment.

 Aboard Breakwater, the notice produced a different reaction.

Captain Daniel Mercer read the approved leave rotation while seated in his temporary office.

The battleship remained heavily damaged.

Her underwater repairs were incomplete.

Several electrical systems were operating under temporary arrangements.

The aft upper works still required substantial work.

And there were enough unresolved inspection findings to occupy the engineering department for considerably longer than seven days.

Mercer knew that.

He also knew that his crew was tired.

Not merely physically.

The men had been through combat.

They had lost friends.

They had attended a memorial for Thomas Reed and Mateo Alvarez.

And then, because a damaged battleship could not repair herself, they’d returned to work.

He looked toward Adrian Cole.

”Can we make this rotation work?”

The executive officer examined the schedule.

Then nodded.

”With some adjustment.”

”Safety watch?”

”Maintained.”

”Engineering?”

”Essential repairs continue. Nonurgent work moves to the following week.”

”Medical?”

”Covered.”

Mercer looked toward the harbor.

A group of sailors was carrying equipment along the quay.

Every one of them had entered FRONTLINE HEARTS believing that Breakwater would be an extraordinary naval simulation.

Now they were repairing the real ship that had nearly killed them.

The captain considered that.

Then nodded.

”Good.”

Cole raised an eyebrow.

”You’re approving it?”

Mercer looked back.

”Yes.”

The executive officer smiled faintly.

”Some of the men are going to be delighted.”

”They’d better be.”

Mercer leaned back.

”Tell the division heads that anyone on leave is actually on leave. No calling somebody back to inspect a bolt unless the ship is about to sink.”

Cole nodded.

”Understood.”

The captain paused.

Then looked toward the medical accommodation schedule.

”And make certain Lucía’s training doesn’t start with everyone rushing around trying to finish repairs.”

Cole smiled.

”We’ve already arranged her introductory safety lessons after the recreational week.”

”Good.”

Mercer considered that.

Then added:

”She’s welcome at the supervised family activities, if she wants to attend.”

The executive officer nodded.

”Of course.”

For a moment, the captain looked toward the damaged upper works.

He thought of Mateo.

Of the young electrician’s sister.

Of the notebook she carried everywhere.

Then he sighed quietly.

”One week.”

Cole looked toward him.

”Sir?”

Mercer smiled faintly.

”Let’s try remembering how to be people for one week.”

The executive officer considered that.

Then nodded.

”Sounds like a good order.”

 Aster Declares War on Boredom

Aster received her copy of the notice in the infirmary.

She was sitting on the edge of her bed, attempting to convince Irena Holt that walking from one end of the room to the other constituted a perfectly reasonable demonstration of medical fitness.

The doctor disagreed.

Aster had expected that.

What she had not expected was Emi to burst through the doorway holding a sheet of paper above her head.

”ASTER!”

The Fletcher-class girl looked up.

”Emi?”

The Benson-class destroyer girl stopped in front of the bed.

Her eyes were shining.

She looked as though somebody had just informed her that every bakery on Horizon was giving away free pastries.

Aster blinked.

”What’s happened?”

Emi held out the notice.

”READ!”

Aster took it.

She looked down.

Read the first paragraph.

Then the second.

Then slowly raised her eyes.

Irena watched her.

Aster looked toward the doctor.

”Beach?”

Irena smiled faintly.

”Yes.”

Aster looked down again.

”Seven days?”

”Yes.”

She read the medical restriction section.

Her expression faltered.

Then she looked up.

”...Swimming?”

Irena folded her arms.

”Not yet.”

If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it’s taken without the author’s consent. Report it.

Aster stared.

The doctor continued.

”You can attend approved shore activities. You can sit in the shade, enjoy meals, and take short walks if your wound remains comfortable.”

Aster looked personally betrayed.

”And volleyball?”

”No.”

She slumped.

”Doctor.”

”Aster.”

”Please?”

”No.”

”Very gentle volleyball?”

”No.”

”Extremely responsible volleyball?”

Irena raised an eyebrow.

Aster considered that.

Then sighed.

”Fine.”

Emi was trying very hard not to laugh.

Aster turned.

The younger destroyer immediately looked away.

For a moment, the two stared at each other.

Then Aster smiled.

A dangerous smile.

”Oh, Emi.”

The Benson-class girl became nervous.

”...Yes?”

”You’re playing volleyball.”

Emi blinked.

”Me?”

”Yes.”

”But—”

”You’re going to play.”

Aster folded her arms.

”And you’re going to win.”

Emi stared.

Irena closed her eyes.

”Aster.”

The Fletcher-class girl smiled sweetly.

”Yes, Doctor?”

”Do not turn this into a substitute for participating yourself.”

Aster looked offended.

”I would never.”

Irena stared.

Emi covered her mouth.

The doctor sighed.

”You’re already planning to coach from a chair, aren’t you?”

Aster considered lying.

Then smiled.

”...Maybe.”

Irena shook her head.

But she was smiling too.

The destroyer girl looked toward the notice again.

For a moment, the excitement faded from her face.

She touched the side of her abdomen where the injury was healing beneath the dressing.

The wound remained tender.

Sometimes it hurt when she turned too quickly.

Sometimes she woke during the night with the remembered sensation of something pulling her beneath the water.

She didn’t like thinking about that.

She liked even less that Emi had seen her injured again during the battle.

The younger girl worried too much.

Aster knew that because she recognized the habit.

She’d been doing the same thing whenever Emi went near the training water.

For several seconds, Aster stared toward the window.

Then Emi spoke.

”Hey.”

Aster looked up.

The Benson-class girl’s expression softened.

”We can just sit together.”

Aster blinked.

Emi continued.

”At the beach, I mean.”

She smiled.

”We don’t have to play anything.”

Aster looked toward her.

For a moment, she didn’t speak.

Then she grinned.

”Emi.”

”Yes?”

”You’re still playing volleyball.”

The younger destroyer sighed.

Aster laughed.

Then reached out and gently tugged the end of Emi’s sleeve.

”But thank you.”

Emi’s expression softened.

”You’re welcome.”

From the neighboring bed, June cleared her throat.

Both girls turned.

The light cruiser was sitting beneath the window with a book open in her lap.

She looked suspiciously pleased with herself.

”If you’re forming a volleyball team, I’m contributing tactical advice.”

Aster raised an eyebrow.

”You’re also injured.”

June nodded.

”Exactly. That makes me an excellent strategist.”

Irena stared toward the ceiling.

For a moment, she seemed to be reconsidering every career decision that had brought her to Horizon Atoll.

Then she sighed.

”I will authorize beach attendance for both of you under the appropriate restrictions.”

Aster and June straightened.

The doctor raised one finger.

”No running. No diving. No rough games. Stay out of the water until I clear you. And if either of you starts hurting, you tell someone.”

The girls nodded.

”Yes, Doctor.”

Irena studied them.

Then looked toward Emi.

”And you.”

The Benson-class girl jumped.

”Me?”

”Make sure they behave.”

Emi stared.

Aster smiled brightly.

June folded her arms.

The younger destroyer looked between them.

Then slowly turned back toward Irena.

”...Can I request reinforcements?”

The doctor began laughing.

 By the end of the afternoon, Aster had assembled an astonishingly large list of people who were apparently required to attend the beach.

Emi was first.

Mina was second.

Calla and June were obvious additions.

Elsa would attend because June had informed her that sitting under a beach umbrella would provide an excellent opportunity to inspect her recovery notes.

Elsa had examined that reasoning.

Then replied that she was quite capable of reading medical documents indoors.

June had smiled.

Aster had smiled.

Calla had smiled.

And somehow, the heavy cruiser had eventually agreed.

Riko required no persuasion whatsoever.

Yuna was more hesitant.

She’d looked toward her maintenance schedule, then toward the fairy crews working on her Illustrious-class aviation equipment.

Aster hadn’t pushed.

Instead, she’d suggested that the surviving fairies might enjoy a change of scenery.

That had worked considerably better.

Hana had been convinced by the promise that the beach would contain no repair requests.

She’d asked whether Aster could guarantee that.

Aster had considered the question.

Then admitted she couldn’t.

Hana had sighed.

But she’d agreed.

Scarlett required only one question.

”Do you want to come to the beach?”

The South Dakota-class girl had stared.

Then replied:

”Obviously.”

Aster had decided she liked Scarlett.

The older battleship was dramatic.

Stubborn.

More than a little competitive.

And possessed an extraordinary talent for making ordinary conversations with maintenance personnel sound like arguments between sovereign nations.

In that respect, she fit into Horizon very well.

Senko was less certain.

The transport girl had spent so much of her time hauling supplies, organizing cargo, and helping Corwin reconcile inventories that she seemed faintly confused by the idea of attending an event where she wasn’t expected to carry anything.

Aster had reassured her.

Then Senko asked whether somebody would need to transport the barbecue equipment.

Aster sighed.

Apparently, the problem was going to require more work.

And there were others.

Nadya declared that any event involving grilled food and an opportunity to embarrass the younger battleship girls was worth her attention.

Marina, the Virginia-class Keelborn, expressed quiet interest.

Adelheid of the Bayern class accepted with a measured nod, though her expression suggested she was already preparing for the possibility that Riko would challenge someone to a ridiculous competition.

Several unnamed Fletcher girls were delighted.

The two Allen M. Sumner destroyer girls who had served as part of Horizon’s roster expressed immediate interest in the volleyball tournament.

An Akizuki-class girl offered to help with the water-safety arrangements after her assigned patrol.

The Kitakaze-class destroyer who had escorted Senko’s salvage expedition took one look at the event schedule and asked whether somebody intended to organize the games properly.

Aster had answered yes.

The Kitakaze girl had raised an eyebrow.

That was apparently not sufficient reassurance.

By evening, Aster possessed a notebook filled with names, schedules, swimsuit questions, food suggestions, volleyball teams, and an increasingly complicated seating arrangement for people who were medically forbidden from playing anything.

She regarded the notebook with satisfaction.

Then looked toward Emi.

”See?”

The younger destroyer leaned closer.

”What?”

Aster smiled.

”We’re organized.”

Emi examined the page.

There were arrows.

Circles.

Several crossed-out names.

A drawing of a beach umbrella.

And what appeared to be a small battleship firing at a volleyball.

Emi stared.

Then looked up.

”...Are we?”

Aster smiled sweetly.

”Absolutely.”

Mina, who had been reading over Emi’s shoulder, pointed toward the bottom of the page.

”Why does that say Operation Sunburn Prevention?”

Aster blinked.

Then grinned.

”Because it’s important.”

Mina considered that.

Then nodded.

”Fair.”

Emi turned the page.

She stopped.

A single line had been written beneath the attendance list.

COMMANDER KADE BHER — NOT CONFIRMED.

Emi frowned.

”Aster?”

The Fletcher-class girl looked up.

”Yes?”

”Did you invite the Commander?”

Aster blinked.

For a moment, she looked genuinely surprised.

Then she frowned.

”...Huh.”

Mina looked toward her.

”What?”

Aster considered the question.

Then smiled.

”Oh, I’m sure he’ll come.”

Emi looked doubtful.

Mina looked extremely doubtful.

Neither said anything.

That would become important later.

 A Beach Worth the Trouble

The southern recreation beach opened on Monday morning.

Getting it ready had required considerably more work than anybody imagined a beach should require.

Horizon’s security teams had surveyed the shoreline again.

Harbor Engineering had inspected the approach road, the nearby drainage outlets, and the recreational facilities.

The water-safety crew had established a clearly marked swimming zone.

A patrol element was assigned beyond the recreation sector, where its duty would remain security rather than entertainment.

The beach itself was separated from the restricted lagoon area, and the old warnings surrounding the contaminated sectors remained in force.

Nobody was permitted to treat the presence of a beach umbrella as authorization to explore the rest of the coastline.

Mira had delivered that instruction to VESPER.

Alina had immediately repeated it.

Cassidy had made the mistake of asking whether a floating inflatable duck counted as an exploration craft.

Mira had looked at her.

Alina had looked at her.

Morgan had looked at her.

Cassidy had raised both hands.

”It was a theoretical question.”

No one believed her.

The final safety briefing was completed without incident.

The shoreline was declared suitable for supervised recreation.

And Horizon Atoll’s first properly organized Beach Week began beneath a sky so beautifully blue that even the most exhausted members of the station seemed willing to believe the weather had decided to cooperate.

The sand was pale and warm.

Palm trees moved gently in the breeze.

Beyond the marked swimming area, the Pacific glittered beneath the sun, shifting between turquoise near shore and a deeper blue farther out.

Portable shade structures lined one portion of the beach.

Several picnic tables had been moved into position.

The station’s recreation staff had provided chairs, blankets, a volleyball net, and enough miscellaneous equipment to transform an ordinary stretch of coastline into something resembling a small seaside festival.

Eliza’s barbecue station occupied a carefully prepared area away from the dry vegetation.

There were grills.

Coolers.

Food tables.

Large covered containers of drinking water.

And a hand-lettered sign reminding everyone to return reusable plates rather than abandoning them in the sand.

Corwin had insisted on the sign.

Eliza had insisted on the barbecue.

They’d spent the previous afternoon discussing quantities, fuel use, and how many people the kitchen could feed without interfering with essential station meals.

The resulting menu was modest by the standards of a resort.

By Horizon’s standards, it was magnificent.

Grilled chicken.

Skewered vegetables.

Potatoes cooked in foil.

Fresh fruit.

Bread.

A small quantity of burgers prepared for the first barbecue session.

Cold drinks.

And several dishes contributed by off-duty personnel who had volunteered to help.

Nobody was pretending that Horizon could suddenly afford unlimited supplies.

The week’s recreational meals were spread across several days, with staff invited according to their leave rotations.

But after the recent diet of preserved food and hurried mess-hall dinners, the smell of something cooking over a grill was enough to produce an immediate improvement in station morale.

At least according to Cassidy.

She announced this conclusion before the first chicken had finished cooking.

Eliza told her to go sit down.

Cassidy obeyed.

Eventually.

 Aster arrived wearing a red-and-white one-piece swimsuit beneath an open, lightweight shirt, with comfortable shorts and sandals suitable for walking without irritating her healing injury.

Her red hair had been tied into a loose ponytail.

A large sun hat rested on her head.

Her medical dressing was properly covered, and Irena had made certain the girl understood every restriction attached to her attendance.

Aster considered the resulting outfit perfectly reasonable.

She also considered the doctor’s insistence that she carry a small medical note entirely unnecessary.

Emi disagreed.

The Benson-class girl had personally checked that Aster possessed the note.

Twice.

Now she walked beside her in a sky-blue two-piece with a loose rash guard, board shorts, and an expression of almost unbearable excitement.

Mina followed wearing a navy one-piece and a light white beach shirt, her dark hair neatly secured away from her face.

The Leander-class girl had brought a book.

Aster found that suspicious.

”Why?”

Mina blinked.

”Why what?”

”The book.”

Mina glanced down.

”To read.”

Aster stared.

Emi began laughing.

The Fletcher-class girl considered the response.

Then sighed.

”Fine.”

Mina smiled.

”What did you expect?”

”Something more exciting.”

”Such as?”

Aster gestured toward the beach.

”Volleyball! Swimming! Sunshine! Food!”

Mina considered the list.

Then nodded.

”All excellent.”

She held up her book.

”And reading.”

Emi grinned.

Aster looked toward the ocean.

Then shook her head.

”I swear, I’m surrounded by sensible people.”

A voice answered from behind them.

”That must be difficult.”

The girls turned.

Elsa stood on the path leading down to the beach.

The Admiral Hipper-class heavy cruiser had chosen a dark, elegant one-piece swimsuit beneath a loose pale cover-up. Her hair was tied neatly back, and she carried a folding chair in one hand.

Aster’s eyes widened.

”Elsa!”

The older cruiser raised an eyebrow.

”Good morning.”

Mina straightened immediately.

”Miss Elsa!”

The heavy cruiser looked toward her.

A small smile appeared.

”Mina.”

The younger cruiser became faintly pink.

Aster noticed.

Naturally.

She smiled.

An extremely dangerous smile.

Mina immediately looked toward the beach.

”...The weather is nice.”

Elsa nodded.

”Yes.”

Aster grinned.

”Very nice.”

Mina slowly turned toward her.

”Don’t.”

Aster blinked innocently.

”Don’t what?”

Emi began laughing.

Elsa regarded the three.

Then sighed.

”I see I’ve arrived at an appropriate time.”

Behind her came Calla and June.

Calla wore a practical teal swimsuit with a short wrap around her waist. June had chosen a comfortable full-body swimsuit with a loose shirt over it, following Irena’s instructions to avoid exposing her healing injury to unnecessary irritation.

The younger Atlanta-class cruiser carried a sun hat.

Calla carried the medical restrictions.

June looked deeply unhappy about that division of responsibilities.

”I can carry my own paperwork.”

Calla nodded.

”Of course.”

”Then give it to me.”

”No.”

June stared.

Aster burst out laughing.

The younger cruiser turned toward her.

”You’re not helping.”

Aster grinned.

”I know!”

Calla examined the Fletcher-class girl’s outfit.

Then nodded approvingly.

”Good. You’re following the doctor’s instructions.”

Aster sighed.

”Everyone keeps saying that.”

Elsa smiled faintly.

”Perhaps because nobody trusts you.”

Aster looked wounded.

”That’s terrible.”

Mina nodded solemnly.

”Tragic.”

Emi covered her mouth.

June grinned.

Aster looked around at the group.

Then folded her arms.

”I thought these were my friends.”

Calla smiled.

”We are.”

A pause.

”That’s why we’re making certain you don’t do something stupid.”

Aster considered that.

Then sighed.

”Fine.”

Her expression brightened.

”But look!”

She gestured toward the beach.

The girls followed her gaze.

The sand was already filling with familiar faces.

Keelborn girls.

SIA personnel.

Native maintenance workers.

Dockworkers.

A few sailors from Breakwater enjoying their assigned shore leave.

Several off-duty security personnel.

People who ordinarily saw one another in uniforms, carrying equipment, attending briefings, or arguing about repairs.

Today they were carrying beach towels.

Coolers.

Sun hats.

Folding chairs.

And, in one particularly memorable case, an enormous inflatable ring shaped like a yellow duck.

Aster stared.

Then slowly smiled.

”Oh.”

For a moment, she looked almost overwhelmed.

She had known these people for weeks.

Some for longer.

She had trained with them.

Worked alongside them.

Helped them recover after accidents.

Watched them fight.

And worried about them when they were hurt.

Now they were here.

On a beach.

In the sunshine.

Laughing.

Aster felt something warm settle in her chest.

Then Emi took her hand.

”Come on!”

Aster smiled.

”Right!”

They headed toward the sand.

For one glorious afternoon, the only thing waiting to ambush them was the volleyball schedule.

 The Peculiar Art of Seeing Everyone Without Their Uniforms

It took Aster approximately four minutes to become distracted.

This was a personal record.

Usually, she could be distracted in considerably less time.

But today there was a great deal to look at, and her attention kept moving from one familiar face to another.

Riko was standing beside the volleyball court, attempting to convince two Allen M. Sumner-class destroyer girls that the Yamato class possessed an inherent advantage in beach sports.

The destroyers disagreed.

One pointed out that beach volleyball did not involve naval gun caliber.

Riko responded that battleships were naturally superior at everything requiring determination.

The other Sumner girl asked whether that included not falling over.

Riko became red-faced.

Aster decided not to intervene.

Some battles simply had to be fought without reinforcements.

A short distance away, Scarlett Hayes was adjusting the ribbon of a broad-brimmed sun hat while examining the volleyball net with obvious interest.

The South Dakota-class battleship girl had selected a dark-blue two-piece swimsuit with gold accents and comfortable high-waisted bottoms. The outfit suited her curvy figure, particularly her broad hips and strong, rounded thighs, while its practical fit allowed her to move comfortably without the heavy assistance apparatus of her training rigging.

Her strawberry-pink hair fell down her back in loose waves.

For once, there were no gun turrets.

No armor supports.

No warning indicators.

And no technicians telling her to stop threatening a mechanical component.

She looked extraordinarily pleased about that last point.

Riko spotted her.

”SCARLETT!”

Scarlett turned.

”What?”

”Come play!”

The older battleship looked toward the court.

Then toward the younger Yamato-class girl.

A slow smile appeared.

”Oh?”

Riko grinned.

”Battleship team!”

One of the destroyers folded her arms.

”That seems unfair.”

Scarlett raised an eyebrow.

”Afraid?”

The girl smiled sweetly.

”Of what? You’re both bigger targets.”

Aster stopped walking.

Emi covered her mouth.

Mina looked away.

Scarlett stared.

Riko stared.

For a moment, the beach became very quiet.

Then Scarlett slowly smiled.

”All right.”

The destroyer girl raised an eyebrow.

Scarlett pointed toward the volleyball net.

”You’re on.”

Aster sighed.

”Well.”

Emi looked toward her.

”Well?”

The Fletcher-class girl grinned.

”We’ve got our first international incident.”

Mina began laughing.

 The barbecue area was already occupied by several members of VESPER.

Cassidy Boone wore a comfortable black swimsuit beneath an oversized open shirt, with shorts and sunglasses that made her look considerably more composed than she actually was.

Beside her, Zofia Kowalska wore a bright red swimsuit and had somehow acquired a flower-shaped hair clip that she insisted improved her athletic performance.

Réka Varga had chosen a sporty green two-piece with loose shorts. She was currently discussing the engineering possibilities of a sandcastle large enough to contain multiple defensive walls.

Darya Belova was examining the proposed design.

Her expression suggested that she was taking the discussion much too seriously.

Morgan Reyes stood nearby carrying a cooler.

She had a whistle around her neck.

Cassidy pointed toward it.

”Why do you have that?”

Morgan looked at her.

”Because somebody has to keep you from starting a riot.”

Cassidy placed one hand against her chest.

”Me?”

”Yes.”

”Unbelievable.”

Zofia smiled.

”Completely unreasonable.”

Morgan stared.

The Polish girl looked away.

Réka raised one hand.

”Can the sandcastle have a moat?”

Morgan closed her eyes.

”Why are you asking me?”

”Because you’re holding the whistle.”

Cassidy nodded solemnly.

”Authority has responsibilities.”

Morgan stared toward the ocean.

For a moment, she appeared to be considering swimming away and never returning.

Aster approached with Emi and Mina.

”CASSIDY!”

The American turned.

Her face lit up.

”ASTER!”

The two waved enthusiastically.

Then Cassidy’s eyes moved toward the Fletcher-class girl’s covered injury.

Her smile softened.

”How’re you doing?”

Aster nodded.

”Better.”

”Really?”

”Really.”

Cassidy looked toward Emi.

The Benson-class girl nodded.

”Doctor-approved.”

Cassidy grinned.

”Excellent.”

Then she held out a bottle of water.

”Hydrate.”

Aster blinked.

She accepted it.

Then looked toward Morgan.

”Is everyone doing that today?”

The American woman sighed.

”I’ve been trying.”

Cassidy smiled brightly.

”I’m helping.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow.

”Are you?”

”Emotionally.”

Réka nodded.

”Very important.”

Aster began laughing.

The SIA girls looked different outside their uniforms and equipment.

No rifles.

No body armor.

No ammunition pouches.

No communications headsets.

Even Greta Falk, who ordinarily seemed permanently connected to the enormous logistical demands of her MG08, had chosen a simple dark swimsuit beneath a loose shirt and was sitting comfortably under an umbrella.

Johanna Weiss wore a modest blue one-piece, a sun hat, and an expression of considerable satisfaction as she inspected the food tables.

Ingrid Solheim had chosen a full-body swimsuit with a lightweight cover-up and was quietly enjoying the breeze.

Natsuki Hoshino sat beside her, carefully arranging a small picnic blanket.

Élodie Marchand was photographing the shoreline with a compact camera, apparently delighted to have something to frame that wasn’t an enemy firing position.

Lara Baumann had sunscreen, a first-aid pouch, and the patient expression of someone who had accepted that she would spend the day reminding people not to injure themselves.

Alina Morozova stood near the recreation noticeboard, reviewing the duty rotations one final time.

She’d changed into a practical one-piece swimsuit and shorts, but she still carried a clipboard.

Aster regarded the clipboard.

Then smiled.

”Alina.”

The Russian woman turned.

”Aster.”

”Are you working?”

Alina glanced down.

Then back.

”No.”

Aster raised an eyebrow.

Alina considered that.

Then sighed.

”I’m ensuring everyone knows the schedule.”

Cassidy leaned toward Aster.

”She’s working.”

Alina stared.

Cassidy smiled.

”Very hard.”

Morgan began laughing.

Alina lowered the clipboard.

For a moment, she looked toward the sea.

Then she sighed.

”Fine.”

She placed the clipboard beneath a chair.

”Happy?”

Cassidy grinned.

”Immensely.”

Aster nodded approvingly.

”Good.”

Then she looked toward the others.

For several seconds, she seemed almost surprised by the sight.

These were the girls who had gone into the Burnt Narrows.

The ones who had fought their way through contaminated buildings.

The ones who had faced Belle.

The ones who had stood on a beach under enemy attack while Breakwater fought to keep the evacuation route open.

Aster remembered the reports.

The injuries.

The fear.

The wounded civilian.

The Pendant.

Now they were laughing about sandcastles.

She liked that.

More than she knew how to say.

 Near the edge of the shaded picnic area, Yuna Mori was arranging something very small.

Aster approached cautiously.

Then blinked.

There were miniature beach umbrellas.

Actual miniature beach umbrellas.

Several were no taller than Aster’s hand, secured into a carefully leveled tray of sand beneath a larger parasol.

Tiny chairs occupied the space around them.

A shallow dish contained drinking water.

Another held carefully prepared food portions.

And several fairy crew members were busily arguing over the placement of what appeared to be a miniature beach-volleyball net.

Aster stared.

Then slowly raised her hands.

”Oh, that’s adorable.”

Yuna looked up.

Her expression softened.

”Good morning.”

”Yuna!”

The carrier girl smiled.

”Hello.”

Aster crouched carefully beside the table, mindful of her injury.

Several fairies noticed.

One waved.

Another saluted.

A tiny deck mechanic wearing a brightly colored sun hat looked toward Aster with an expression of profound suspicion.

Aster smiled.

”Hello!”

The fairy stared.

Then pointed toward the miniature volleyball court.

Aster leaned closer.

”Oh?”

The tiny woman folded her arms.

Yuna sighed softly.

”She thinks the net is too high.”

Aster blinked.

The fairy nodded firmly.

Another fairy shook her head.

An argument began.

Aster looked toward Yuna.

The carrier girl smiled faintly.

”They’ve been discussing it for twenty minutes.”

Aster considered that.

Then nodded.

”Sounds about right.”

The fairy deck chief emerged from beneath a small parasol carrying a clipboard.

Even on leave.

Of course.

She inspected the arrangement.

Then gave a short instruction.

The arguing stopped.

One of the fairies adjusted the net.

The deck chief nodded.

Problem solved.

Aster stared.

Then began laughing.

Yuna smiled.

”She insisted on organizing everything herself.”

”She’s very good at it.”

”Yes.”

Aster looked toward the surviving aviation crews.

For a moment, her expression softened.

She remembered the missing fairy pilots.

The three aircraft that hadn’t returned.

Yuna seemed to recognize the thought.

Her smile became quieter.

The Fletcher-class girl didn’t force the conversation.

Instead, she looked toward the little beach.

”They deserve a day off too.”

Yuna nodded.

”Yes.”

A fairy carrying an absurdly tiny beach ball approached Aster’s hand.

She set the ball down.

Then looked up expectantly.

Aster blinked.

”Me?”

The fairy nodded.

Aster smiled.

”All right.”

She gently tapped the ball back.

The tiny woman caught it.

Then squeaked triumphantly.

Several others cheered.

Yuna began laughing.

And for a little while, the surviving fairy crews played a game that required no aircraft, no ammunition, no fuel, and no one disappearing beyond the horizon.

 The native personnel arrived in smaller groups as their shifts permitted.

Eliza oversaw the food.

Dain sat at a picnic table with a plate of grilled chicken and an expression of deep suspicion whenever somebody approached him carrying a clipboard.

Corwin appeared briefly to check the food inventory.

Eliza informed him that he was not allowed to conduct an audit during lunch.

He looked offended.

Then she handed him a plate.

He became considerably more cooperative.

Mara Fenwick joined the gathering with a cold drink and a broad-brimmed hat.

She spent several minutes talking with the maintenance crews, then sat beneath a large umbrella where she could watch the games.

Tali accompanied a small group of off-duty synthetic personnel, apparently delighted by the chance to discuss something other than damaged equipment.

Mira arrived with the security rotation and immediately discovered that Cassidy had organized a sandcastle competition.

The native SIA officer examined the proposed design.

Then raised an eyebrow.

”Why does it have defensive trenches?”

Réka smiled.

”Structural integrity.”

Mira looked toward Darya.

The Russian woman nodded.

”Also drainage.”

Morgan stared.

Cassidy grinned.

”See? Engineering.”

Mira considered that.

Then sighed.

”Carry on.”

Aster watched the exchange with considerable satisfaction.

The base had never looked like this before.

Not to her.

There were sailors playing cards beneath umbrellas.

Maintenance workers swapping recipes with the kitchen staff.

Keelborn girls who ordinarily wore uniforms and heavy mechanical equipment walking around in sandals.

The two Allen M. Sumner destroyers had joined the volleyball crowd.

Several other Fletchers were comparing sunglasses.

An Akizuki-class girl was helping the water-safety team distribute flotation equipment.

A Kitakaze-class girl had appointed herself scorekeeper for the first volleyball match.

Marina and Adelheid sat with Nadya beneath one of the larger shade structures.

For once, the conversations around them had little to do with patrol assignments, readiness reports, or damage assessments.

Aster approached the shaded tables.

Senko had just escaped from the barbecue station with a cold drink in her hands.

Eliza had practically ordered the transport girl to stop helping and sit down.

Senko looked a little uncertain about what to do with herself.

Aster smiled.

”Senko!”

The transport girl looked up.

A faint smile appeared.

”Hello, Aster.”

”Having fun?”

Senko considered the question.

Then looked toward the beach.

”I think so.”

Aster smiled.

”Good.”

Senko glanced toward the younger destroyer’s injury.

”You’re healing?”

”Yes.”

”Properly?”

Aster looked toward Emi, who was walking a short distance behind her.

Emi immediately nodded.

Senko smiled faintly.

”Good.”

For a moment, the two were quiet.

Then Senko looked toward the ocean.

”It’s strange.”

Aster tilted her head.

”What is?”

”Seeing everyone like this.”

The Fletcher-class girl followed her gaze.

Riko was arguing with Scarlett.

Cassidy had somehow acquired a second volleyball.

Eliza was laughing at something Corwin had said.

Several fairies were cheering around their miniature net.

Senko’s expression softened.

”I think I’d forgotten people could spend an afternoon without needing something delivered.”

Aster looked toward her.

Then smiled.

”Oh, this is important.”

Senko raised an eyebrow.

Aster gestured toward the beach.

”Look at them.”

The transport girl did.

For a while, she said nothing.

Then she nodded slowly.

”Yes.”

A small smile appeared.

”I suppose it is.”

Aster looked toward her.

Then gently touched her arm.

”Come sit with us?”

Senko hesitated.

Then nodded.

”I’d like that.”

They returned toward the picnic area together.

And as Aster walked, she began recognizing even more faces.

A maintenance technician who had helped repair her Fletcher rigging after the organic mine incident.

A harbor worker who had carried her equipment case during a difficult inspection.

A medical assistant who had brought her water during a feverish night in the infirmary.

One of Breakwater’s sailors who’d helped secure the evacuation party at the Burnt Narrows.

People she’d spoken to once.

People she’d seen in passing.

People she’d never imagined would someday be sitting together on a beach.

The realization left her strangely happy.

Horizon was becoming a home.

Not a perfect one.

Not a particularly comfortable one.

But a home nonetheless.

 Battleship Volleyball Is a Terrible Idea

The first official volleyball match began at fourteen hundred.

It immediately became apparent that allowing Riko and Scarlett to serve on the same team had been a mistake.

Not because they were uncooperative.

Quite the opposite.

They cooperated with an enthusiasm that bordered on terrifying.

The team consisted of Riko, Scarlett, one of the Fletcher girls, and Morgan Reyes.

Opposite them stood two Allen M. Sumner-class destroyers, Emi, and Réka.

The Kitakaze-class scorekeeper stood beside the court holding a clipboard.

Cassidy had volunteered as commentator.

Nobody had authorized that.

It happened anyway.

”LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!”

Morgan closed her eyes.

Cassidy stood beside the court with a rolled-up paper cone.

”WELCOME TO THE FIRST HORIZON ATOLL BEACH VOLLEYBALL CHAMPIONSHIP!”

Several people cheered.

Aster grinned.

June raised one hand from her chair.

Calla sighed.

Cassidy continued.

”IN THE LEFT CORNER, REPRESENTING HEAVY ARTILLERY, QUESTIONABLE MANEUVERABILITY, AND AN UNNECESSARY AMOUNT OF PRIDE—”

Scarlett slowly turned.

”Cassidy.”

”—THE BATTLESHIP TEAM!”

Riko cheered.

Morgan looked toward the sky.

The Fletcher girl waved.

Cassidy turned toward the opposing team.

”AND IN THE RIGHT CORNER, REPRESENTING SPEED, AGILITY, AND THE ABILITY TO TURN WITHOUT REQUESTING PERMISSION FROM ENGINEERING—”

The Sumner girls began laughing.

Scarlett folded her arms.

Réka raised both hands.

Cassidy grinned.

”—THE DESTROYER SQUAD!”

Emi looked horrified.

Aster cheered loudly enough to make her flinch.

”GO, EMI!”

The Benson-class girl turned.

”Aster!”

”WIN!”

Emi sighed.

Scarlett looked toward Riko.

The younger battleship grinned.

”Ready?”

Scarlett smiled.

”Obviously.”

The scorekeeper raised her whistle.

The match began.

Riko served first.

The ball sailed over the net.

Straight into the opposing court.

Réka returned it.

Morgan moved to receive.

Scarlett positioned herself near the net.

Riko rushed forward.

Then stopped suddenly when the ball changed direction.

Her expression became alarmed.

”WAIT—”

She tried to turn.

Sand shifted beneath her feet.

The Yamato-class girl stumbled.

Recovered.

Then performed a movement that was technically not a fall.

At least not entirely.

She ended sitting in the sand.

The ball landed three feet away.

Silence.

Then one of the Sumner girls raised both hands.

”POINT!”

Riko stared.

Scarlett slowly closed her eyes.

Morgan placed one hand against her forehead.

Cassidy began laughing so hard that she nearly dropped the paper cone.

Aster fell back against her chair.

June covered her face.

Riko scrambled upright.

”THAT WAS THE SAND!”

Scarlett opened one eye.

”Riko.”

The younger battleship turned.

”What?”

”You’re supposed to use your feet.”

Riko stared.

A pause.

Then:

”I KNOW!”

Scarlett smiled sweetly.

”Just checking.”

The crowd erupted.

The match continued.

And became considerably more competitive.

Scarlett proved surprisingly good at serving.

Her aim was excellent.

Her timing less so.

On her third attempt, she struck the ball with enough enthusiasm that it sailed far beyond the opposite boundary and landed near the picnic tables.

Corwin looked up.

The ball bounced beside his chair.

He stared.

Then looked toward Scarlett.

The battleship girl raised one hand.

”...Sorry.”

Corwin considered that.

Then slowly looked toward Kade’s absence.

For a moment, he seemed deeply disappointed that the Commander wasn’t present to receive the complaint.

He returned to his meal.

Morgan retrieved the ball.

Scarlett looked toward Riko.

The Yamato-class girl grinned.

”Overpenetration.”

Scarlett stared.

Then began laughing.

”All right. That was good.”

Réka raised both hands.

”SECOND POINT!”

The scorekeeper blew her whistle.

Aster cheered.

Emi finally relaxed enough to enjoy herself.

She was quick.

Not unusually strong, but attentive, with good reactions and the sort of practical sense she’d acquired during endless destroyer maneuvering exercises.

She moved across the sand, intercepted a return from Morgan, and sent the ball toward the opposite side.

Scarlett lunged.

Missed.

The ball landed.

Aster sprang halfway out of her chair.

”EMI!”

A sharp twinge caught her side.

She froze.

Irena, seated three chairs away, turned.

Aster slowly sat down again.

The doctor raised an eyebrow.

The Fletcher-class girl smiled innocently.

”...Enthusiasm.”

Irena folded her arms.

”Seated enthusiasm.”

Aster nodded.

”Right.”

June laughed.

The game continued.

Nobody won decisively.

At least not before both teams began accusing the other of possessing an unfair advantage.

The battleships argued that the destroyers were too agile.

The destroyers replied that the battleships occupied most of the court.

Morgan requested that everyone stop discussing ship displacement during a volleyball game.

Cassidy declared the entire argument excellent entertainment.

Eventually, the scorekeeper blew the whistle.

The teams stopped.

She examined her clipboard.

Then announced that the match had ended in a tie because the agreed recreational time had expired.

Riko stared.

Scarlett stared.

Réka looked delighted.

Morgan nearly cried with relief.

Then Riko raised one hand.

”REMATCH!”

Scarlett smiled.

”Absolutely.”

The scorekeeper closed her eyes.

Aster grinned.

This, she decided, was the greatest sport ever invented.

 Not everyone spent the afternoon competing.

Yuna sat beneath her parasol, watching the fairy crews play beside their tiny beach setup.

Hana had removed her repair rigging that morning and was enjoying the extraordinary sensation of being able to sit down without somebody immediately bringing her a maintenance problem.

Senko was finally resting after helping Eliza distribute food, despite repeated assurances that she did not have to work.

Nadya had taken a chair near the edge of the shade and was offering unhelpful commentary on Riko’s volleyball performance.

Adelheid occasionally corrected her observations.

Marina seemed perfectly content to watch the sea.

Elsa sat with Mina and June, discussing absolutely nothing related to naval operations.

At one point, Mina glanced toward the heavy cruiser.

Then smiled.

”You’re enjoying yourself.”

Elsa raised an eyebrow.

”Am I?”

The younger cruiser nodded.

”Yes.”

Elsa considered the beach.

Then looked toward the volleyball court.

Riko had just accused Scarlett of attempting to sabotage her serve.

Scarlett had replied that sabotage required effort, and Riko was perfectly capable of defeating herself.

Elsa smiled faintly.

”Perhaps.”

Mina grinned.

”Good.”

A short distance away, Lucía Alvarez arrived with a station welfare assistant.

The fifteen-year-old wore ordinary beach shorts, a loose T-shirt, sandals, and a hat that was slightly too large for her head.

She carried a paperback book and a folded towel.

The assistant showed her the designated family recreation area, where several of Breakwater’s off-duty sailors were already sitting.

Lucía hesitated.

For a moment, the noise and crowds seemed overwhelming.

Then one of the sailors noticed her.

He stood.

”Lucía?”

She looked up.

The man smiled gently.

”I’m from Mateo’s engineering division.”

Her expression changed.

”Oh.”

He nodded.

”We met briefly yesterday.”

She swallowed.

”Right.”

He gestured toward the table.

”Some of the guys were talking about your brother. Nothing official. Just stories.”

Lucía looked toward the sailors.

Then toward the beach.

For a moment, she seemed uncertain.

Finally, she nodded.

”Could I sit with you?”

The man smiled.

”Of course.”

She approached.

A chair was moved for her.

Someone offered her a cold drink.

Another sailor asked whether she wanted a hamburger.

She declined the first offer.

Accepted the second.

Then, after a few minutes, began listening while the men told her about Mateo’s first encounter with one of Breakwater’s particularly temperamental electrical panels.

According to the story, her brother had spent twenty minutes arguing with the equipment before discovering that somebody had mislabeled the switch.

Lucía laughed.

Then cried a little.

Then laughed again.

Nobody made a fuss.

They simply gave her time.

Captain Mercer, arriving later with Adrian Cole, saw her sitting among the engineering sailors.

For a moment, he stopped.

The executive officer followed his gaze.

Lucía was holding Mateo’s notebook.

One of the men had opened it to a page containing a complicated electrical sketch.

He was explaining something.

She leaned closer.

Listening intently.

Mercer’s expression softened.

Cole smiled faintly.

”Looks like they’re getting along.”

The captain nodded.

”Yes.”

For a while, he watched.

Then he turned toward the food tables.

”Come on.”

Cole raised an eyebrow.

”Where?”

Mercer smiled.

”Apparently there’s barbecue.”

The executive officer laughed.

”Good.”

The captain glanced toward the damaged battleship visible beyond the palms.

Breakwater would still be there tomorrow.

The repair work would still be waiting.

For now, the ship’s men deserved lunch.

And Lucía deserved an afternoon that did not consist entirely of mourning.

 A Most Concerning Absence

Aster noticed the problem shortly after the second volleyball match.

At first, she thought she was imagining things.

The Commander was a short fellow.

That was simply a fact.

At five feet three inches, Kade Bher had a remarkable talent for disappearing behind people who were substantially taller than he was, which included a distressing proportion of the women assigned to his naval station.

It was therefore entirely possible that he had been standing somewhere on the beach for hours without Aster noticing.

She looked toward the barbecue.

No Kade.

The volleyball court.

No Kade.

The picnic tables.

No Kade.

She searched the shade structures, the approved swimming area, the recreation equipment station, and the collection of folding chairs where several officers were discussing absolutely nothing important.

Still no Kade.

Aster frowned.

Then looked toward Emi.

”Hey.”

The Benson-class girl was sitting beside her with a cold drink.

She looked up.

”Yes?”

”Have you seen the Commander?”

Emi blinked.

For a moment, she considered the question.

Then looked around.

”...No.”

Aster leaned back.

”Huh.”

Mina glanced up from her book.

”What?”

”Kade.”

The Leander-class girl looked toward the beach.

Then frowned.

”Oh.”

Aster nodded.

”Exactly.”

Mina considered that.

Then asked:

”Did he say he was coming?”

The Fletcher-class girl opened her mouth.

Paused.

Then closed it.

Emi looked toward her.

”Aster?”

The veteran destroyer stared at the sea.

For a moment, her expression became deeply thoughtful.

Then she whispered:

”...Not specifically.”

Mina closed her book.

Emi sighed.

The three looked at one another.

Then Aster sat up.

”Right.”

Mina raised an eyebrow.

”Right?”

”We have a problem.”

The younger cruiser looked toward the crowded beach.

People were laughing.

Eating.

Playing games.

Several fairies were building a miniature sandcastle.

The barbecue smelled wonderful.

The weather was perfect.

Mina slowly turned back.

”...Do we?”

Aster pointed toward the administration district.

”The Commander is missing!”

Emi blinked.

”Aster, he’s probably just busy.”

”During his own Beach Week?”

Mina considered that.

Then nodded.

”That does sound like him.”

Aster folded her arms.

For several seconds, she stared toward the distant buildings.

Then her expression hardened.

”No.”

Emi became nervous.

”...No?”

Aster turned.

”We’re not letting him spend the entire week working.”

Mina looked toward the base.

Then toward Aster.

”What if he’s actually resting?”

The Fletcher-class girl hesitated.

That was a reasonable question.

An extremely inconvenient reasonable question.

She considered it.

Then nodded.

”Good point.”

Emi smiled.

For a moment, she believed the matter had been settled.

Then Aster continued.

”We’ll check.”

Emi’s smile vanished.

Mina sighed.

And thus, without authorization from any military planning authority whatsoever, the first reconnaissance expedition of Beach Week was organized.

 Their first stop was Mara Fenwick.

The Chief sat beneath a large umbrella with a cold drink in one hand, discussing the harbor’s repair schedule with Dain.

Not working.

Officially.

Just discussing it.

Which, at Horizon, seemed to be the closest anyone in senior engineering management could come to genuine relaxation.

Aster approached.

”CHIEF!”

Mara looked up.

”Good afternoon.”

Aster smiled.

”Good afternoon!”

The older woman regarded the destroyer.

Then glanced toward Emi and Mina.

Her expression became suspicious.

”What do you three need?”

Aster looked offended.

”Why do you assume we need something?”

Mara considered that.

Then smiled.

”Experience.”

Emi covered her mouth.

Mina looked away.

Aster sighed.

”Fine.”

She leaned forward.

”Where’s Kade?”

Mara’s smile widened.

For a moment, she simply looked at the girls.

Then she began laughing.

Aster stared.

”Chief?”

The woman shook her head.

”Oh, I knew this would happen.”

Emi blinked.

Mina raised an eyebrow.

Aster folded her arms.

”What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mara took a sip of her drink.

Then answered:

”He’s in his quarters.”

Aster stared.

”His quarters?”

”Yes.”

”On Beach Week?”

”Yes.”

The Fletcher-class girl’s expression became one of profound disbelief.

Mara smiled.

”He took leave.”

Aster looked toward the sea.

Then back.

”To stay in his room?”

”Apparently.”

Emi considered that.

Then smiled faintly.

”Maybe he’s sleeping.”

Mara nodded.

”He needed to.”

Aster hesitated.

The Chief’s expression softened.

”Listen, girls. The Commander has been working extremely hard. Let him rest.”

Mina nodded.

”That’s fair.”

Emi agreed.

Aster looked toward the administration district.

Then sighed.

”Okay.”

Mara smiled.

For approximately five seconds, the matter appeared settled.

Then Aster looked back.

”Could we at least invite him?”

The Chief considered that.

Then nodded.

”Of course.”

Aster brightened.

”But if he says no, you respect the answer.”

The Fletcher-class girl blinked.

Then nodded.

”Yes, Chief.”

Mara raised an eyebrow.

”Aster.”

She straightened.

”I promise.”

The older woman regarded her for another moment.

Then smiled.

”Good.”

Aster turned toward Emi and Mina.

Her expression became enthusiastic.

”Come on!”

Emi sighed.

Mina closed her book.

And the three girls set off toward the residential district.

Behind them, Dain looked toward Mara.

The engineer raised an eyebrow.

”Think that’ll work?”

The Chief considered the question.

Then smiled.

”Not a chance.”

Dain chuckled.

Mara took another sip of her drink.

For the moment, she was quite content to watch events develop.

 Kade Bher was having an excellent afternoon.

An absolutely excellent afternoon.

The kind of afternoon that should have been formally protected under international law.

He was lying on his bed in the command residential quarters, wearing an old T-shirt and comfortable shorts.

The curtains were partly drawn.

A small fan was running.

A glass of cold water stood beside the bed.

And a paperback detective novel rested open in his hands.

He had eaten breakfast.

At a reasonable hour.

He had slept almost nine uninterrupted hours.

An astonishing achievement.

He had checked the morning duty summary, confirmed that no significant problems required his attention, and then informed the switchboard that routine questions could go through the established watch system.

After that, he’d gone back to his room.

Not to work.

Not to review reports.

Not to plan another operation.

To read.

He had also taken a nap.

A very good nap.

And after waking, he’d discovered that the station had managed to survive the entire experience without collapsing into the ocean.

Kade considered this an encouraging administrative breakthrough.

He turned a page.

The detective had just discovered that the supposedly missing evidence had been hidden inside a perfectly ordinary clock.

Kade regarded the revelation.

Then smiled.

”Of course.”

A knock sounded at his door.

He froze.

For a moment, he stared toward the entrance.

Then lowered the book.

Another knock.

A cheerful voice called:

”KAAAADE!”

The Commander closed his eyes.

Aster.

Naturally.

He looked toward the ceiling.

Then sighed.

”Unbelievable.”

He placed a bookmark between the pages.

Rose.

Crossed the room.

And opened the door.

Aster stood outside.

Emi and Mina were beside her.

All three wore beach clothes.

All three looked expectant.

Kade regarded them.

Then slowly smiled.

”Good afternoon.”

Aster beamed.

”COMMANDER!”

”Yes?”

”Beach!”

He considered that.

Then nodded.

”Yes.”

She blinked.

”...Yes?”

”There’s a beach.”

Aster stared.

He continued pleasantly.

”Large sandy area. Ocean nearby. Generally quite damp.”

Emi covered her mouth.

Mina began laughing.

Aster folded her arms.

”Kade.”

He raised an eyebrow.

”Aster.”

”We’re inviting you!”

”How kind.”

”To the beach!”

”Lovely.”

”Right now!”

Kade considered the proposition.

Then smiled.

”No, thank you.”

Aster froze.

Emi blinked.

Mina looked as though she’d expected precisely this outcome.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Then Aster leaned closer.

”...No?”

Kade shook his head.

”No.”

”But everybody’s there!”

”Wonderful.”

”There’s barbecue!”

”Excellent.”