“Captain on deck!” a voice rang out as Serena stepped over the threshold. Everyone on the bridge scrambled to stand at attention. Serena took her position at the top of the bridge, overlooking her loyal officers.

The bridge was a cone-shaped room poking out the bottom of the Vengeance’s upper superstructure. It was ringed with thick reinforced windows for observation, through which Serena could see the three twin-barrel turrets along the deck of the ship. These turrets formed the Vengeance’s main battery. Each one could fire a set of four-inch flak, explosive, or penetrator shells every three seconds. That firepower was supplemented with another two sets of one-inch repeater anti-air guns installed lower down on the sides of the ship. One portside and one starboard.

The Vengeance was classed as a light cruiser, but under Serena’s command, making use of the ship’s unique aspects, she was able to make it punch well above its weight.

To her left and right were the port and starboard observation posts. These small rooms jutted out over the ship's structure and allowed direct observation of the sides of the ship. There were two more underhull observation pods at the front and rear whose occupants would pass information through speaking pipes to the officer on duty.

The bridge had three elevations. At the highest was her station, the helmsman’s wheel and the first officer’s position who, along with her quartermaster, were currently preoccupied with a certain bundle of blond hair and irritating bouncy energy.

The middle elevation was a larger space, ringed with desks manned by her most important staff. Here, the navigator, communications officer, sensors officer, weapons officer, and chief engineer all worked as a well-oiled machine. Centered on this elevation was a large table on which a small model of the Vengeance lay propped up next to maps of their target—Port Highwind. Leaning over this table, moving pieces from here to there, were her air and ground tacticians, doing what they did best: planning and arguing with each other.

During combat, these tacticians would, as best they could, keep this representation of the air space updated with the locations of enemy ships, and the maps updated with the movements of her stormtroopers.

At the lowest level were the lesser officers and subordinates of her key staff. They manned a semicircle of a dozen desks from which they could communicate with areas around the ship, prioritizing and passing information to their superior officers, who would either handle it themselves or pass it onto her or her first officer.

“At ease,” she intoned.

The ship’s crew resumed their work, while Serena took a moment for herself. She wanted some time with her thoughts before the upcoming engagement between the Vengeance and Port Highwind’s defenses.

Amelia had been left in the capable hands of Tomes and Dagon, who seemed reluctant to let his brother be alone with her. Serena had given Tomes a rundown of where she and the human Speaker currently stood with regards to potential employment. Incorporating her into the crew formally was out of the question, Tomes had reminded her as much, stating it could even be considered an act of treason. Hiring her as a mercenary was equally dubious, and despite her station giving her far more freedom than other captains, Serena still had her superiors to obey and regulations to follow.

The best solution Tomes had come up with would be to contract Amelia as part of her personal retinue, as an adviser and, well, as a maid. Serena did have the right and technically it did not conflict with her military obligations, but it was pushing the boundaries right to the edge.

Regardless, she would still risk it despite the future problems that would inevitably arise. Demonkind had no gods of healing to learn from, so, unlike the human nations, they were more or less devoid of magical means of healing. A warrior's aura and mage's wards could accelerate the natural healing process, but they couldn’t regrow limbs like human magic could.

To find, then, a human that was not only a Speaker of a healing branch, but also who seemingly lacked the knowledge of the recent racial conflict between their two species was something she previously thought impossible. To then stretch those odds even further and discover that this human appeared to have a positive opinion of demonkind was almost beyond belief.

The force multiplier Amelia would bring could not be overstated. The average non-recoverable casualty rate of her stormtroopers on a given mission was twenty percent. Five percent would die during the assault, while the remaining fifteen percent were a mix of missing in action, those who would die on the operating table, or those who recovered but were unable to return to combat.

Even if the human could bring that twenty percent to only ten percent then the combat effectiveness of her command would skyrocket. The savings on recruitment, training, and logistics would not only help their purse strings but allow them to focus more on training specialized soldiers, and building stronger cohesion in the ranks.

That was, if she could employ Amelia. Serena had to be thorough and there were many things left unchecked. She hadn’t had nearly enough time to cover all the topics of discussion she’d wanted. Where was the human born? Who was her family? How could she speak Imperial but not write it? What other spells could she cast? And…

How did she get so strong?

With any luck, the answer to these questions would be getting teased out of her by Tomes and Dagon at this very moment. This time, with honey and sugar, as opposed to chains and dark cells.

“Captain?” a gruff voice piped up, breaking Serena from her thoughts. It was Anathor, this time speaking through a mounted stuffed windlizard. Anathor didn’t need a mounted head to speak from, he could do it from almost any part of the ship's structure, he simply preferred to talk through them as, apparently, it felt more natural. "We're at the pre-appointed time," he said.

“Navigation! Status!” Serena commanded, pushing Amelia out of her mind. It was time to focus.

“Thirty-two knots! Bearing twenty degrees from north! Two thousand three hundred meters!” the navigation officer yelled out, reading the values of the pitot-static instrument in front of him. “Five klicks 'til we’re within aetherscope range, Captain! Ten klicks 'til we're horizon-visible!”

They were sailing low, just over two klicks above the lumina boundary. Port Highwind sat on an island almost as low, allowing them to get far closer than normal before they were within visible range of the port's watchtowers.

“Sensors! Report!”

“No blips! Low-level lumina noise! Aetherfield clear!” the sensors officer shouted. Even with being over two klicks away, the lumina caused interference with the aetherscopes that ringed the Vengeance. It was these devices that detected the aetheric combustion of a ship’s lift engine and served as an early warning system where and when their observers’ eyes failed.

The interference was why ships, military and civilian alike, avoided sailing low. Instead, most battles and travel occurred in mid- and high-sky. Get too close to the lumina boundary, and the noise would render your ship’s instruments useless. Sail into the lumina, and the aetheric combustion would catastrophically chain-react and destroy the ship.

That is, if the ship wasn’t the Vengeance.

“Communications! What do our eyes see?”

“Sky clear! Visibility good, Captain!”

“Alright… let’s go swimming!” Serena cleared her throat before giving the command. “Pitch down! Ten degrees!”

“Pitch down! Ten degrees!” the helmsman responded, adjusting one of the many levers of his station.

“Pitch down! Ten degrees!” the chief engineer shouted into a speaking tube, reporting her command to the engine room.

A few moments passed, and Serena felt the Vengeance respond, its bow dipping slightly below the horizon. The shimmering expanse of the lumina and its gentle glow were now visible as an orange blanket that formed the foundation of their world.

Thankfully, it was calm today. Even commanding the Vengeance, Serena knew to avoid a lumina storm.

She did the rough math in her head but decided to have the navigation officer report it for the benefit of the room.

“Navigation! Time until impact?”

“Thirteen minutes!”

There was little left to do. Communications would report anything that needed reporting and the sensors department would soon be mostly blind. She double-checked with the weapons officer and got the green light on all barrels. The ground tactician also reported all green for the stormtroopers, who were prepping the transport ships which were attached to the sides of the Vengeance along with several support craft which, according to the air tactician, were also green.

She considered asking Anathor what Amelia was doing but decided against it. It was frustrating how that smug face kept appearing in her mind. Maybe if she found an excuse to stab her, it would stop happening. Perhaps the human would like a friendly spar between Speakers?

“Anathor, how’s the ship doing?” she asked the stuffed head.

“Hmm…” The windlizard paused for a moment. “It’s…excited. Looking forward to the lumina.”

Where other ships faced certain destruction, the Vengeance liked the lumina. The ship had a supernatural ability to maintain aetheric combustion while sailing within the boundary, an ability that she, before and again now, would make great tactical use of. Serena had once asked Anathor if the ship could go even further, to break through the boundary itself, to reach the fabled under-sky, but he had only responded with, “She’s not ready yet, Captain…”

“Thirty seconds till impact!” Navigation called out.

“Aetherscopes blind!” the sensors officer yelled.

“Pitch up! Five degrees!”

“Pitch up! Five degrees!” the helmsman and chief engineer responded in unison.

“Rig for silent running!”

“Rig for silent running!” The chief engineer passed the order to the engine room, and soon she felt the ship slow, as air resistance brought it down to a slower twenty knots, just as the under-hull of the ship entered the lumina.

“Rigged for silent running!” reported the chief engineer.

“Under-hull, one point five!” the sensor officer shouted. There were density gauges attached to the top and bottom of the ship. They were normally used to check the density of clouds they sailed through, but they could also be used to estimate the density of the lumina.

“Under-hull, one point eight!”

“Maintain course,” Serena commanded. The lumina was calm today, not very dense in its upper layers. They would have to go deep to ensure they were adequately camouflaged.

The deck of the ship was swallowed by the ethereal fog, and then the turrets, and finally the windows themselves.

“Visibility one hundred meters! Under-hull, two point two! Mast, one point five!”

Serena felt a moment of pride at how well her staff worked now. When they did this originally, after much convincing from Anathor who claimed the ship needed it, the tension had crippled their cohesion. Now, they were almost relaxed.

Almost.

“Visibility eighty meters! Under-hull, three point six! Mast, two point eight!”

Once again, a certain pair of blue eyes entered her thoughts. Damn it all.

“Anathor,” she whispered, “how goes it with Tomes and Dagon?”

“Hmm…they are playing poker, Captain.”

They were doing what!? she thought.

“They’re doing what!?” she hissed, keeping her voice as low as possible.

“She’s winning. Dagon thinks she’s cheating and won’t let her deal anymore.”

Serena resisted the urge to grasp her horns in frustration. “Damn it Anathor, unless it’s something serious I don’t need to know everything she’s doing.”

“Hmm…you asked.”

“Shut up.”

“Visibility thirty meters! Under-hull, five point five! Mast, five point zero! Captain!”

“Level out!” she commanded. Her helmsman and engineer quickly repeated the command. Moments later, she felt the ship’s bow align. “Navigation, status?”

“Eighteen knots! Bearing twenty degrees from north! Minus one hundred twenty meters! Sailing level!”

“Captain!” the communications officer cried out. “We’ve got cavitation!”

“Slow us down! Fifteen knots!” The orders were quickly relayed down the chain of command, and the ship soon slowed.

Cavitation could occur when sailing through thick clouds. The propeller of the ship created a region of low pressure behind it that could form bubbles that would collapse, creating noise and stressing the propeller and hull.

Communications and the chief engineer gave her the all-clear. She resisted a sigh of relief. More than a few ships had fallen from the sky due to damage sustained through cloud-borne cavitation, and the lumina was far thicker.

“Maintain course, two hours,” she instructed the helmsman, who nodded.

“Aye, Captain!”

“Air tactician,” she said, causing the demon in question to turn away from the maps and look at her. She knew his name of course, she knew all their names, but you didn’t use names on the bridge. You used titles.

“In your command,” she said to him, turning to leave. With Dagon, her first officer, occupied, the third-in-command was her air tactician, who would keep an eye on everything while she was gone.

“Yes, Captain! Captain leaving deck!”

Serena left the bridge, deciding to head to her quarters to find something to busy her mind with. There was always bookkeeping to do, reports to write or double-check. Barring any emergencies, she would return on deck in an hour and a half, giving time for last-minute checks and clarification of strategies and—

How had she gotten here?