“—Oi, what’s that? Is that…?” The concerned voice of someone makes Four-eyes jolt awake. Did someone glance at his station and call him out? Quickly looking around, it was obvious they weren’t looking at him all—they were looking out the front cockpit. Four-eyes didn’t believe what he was seeing at first—he sluggishly raises his arms to rub his eyes, and blinks several times—before quickly shielding his eyes with an outstretched hand.

Before now, the room was poorly lit. There was only the backlight of monitors and the occasional dimly lit ceiling lamps for lighting. But now the bridge was flooded with light. In fact, the illumination is so intense it stings even without looking at the direction of the light. When it subsides, and after his eyes finally adjust to the shining afterglow, Four-eyes freezes up when he realizes what was unfolding before his very eyes.

There was a vibrant circular ripple of real-space that expands with each passing moment. At the center of the distorted space is an equally fast circular black hole that consumes the area left behind by the ripples. Strokes of lightning occasionally lash out indiscriminately. Both the Bataan and the rest of the destroyer section are so close that they could risk being caught whipped by them. Indeed, some destroyers must’ve been hit by the lightning strikes already, causing some to seemingly lose control and drift out of the disciplined destroyer line.

At first, Four-eyes didn’t know what to make of it. But, much like the lightning lashing out before him, it soon struck him with realization.

A warp exit point. This was a warp exit point.

From the middle of the ever-expanding black-hole comes forth a single large ship—partially covered in ice—but whose encasing gives way as the ship emerges from warp-space. Even from the naked eye, it was easy to tell from the design that it was a…

“A-A Federation battleship?! From Lübeck ?” Someone cries out in complete surprise. “H-how could this be? Radio operator! What does your system say?!” It was the bridge officer barking the order to Four-eyes, who frantically adjusts his glasses and nearly throws himself on the console surface. The single blip in front of the near-collapsed line…

…Was light green . There’s no mistaking it. A light green blip with a small subtitle identification bearing MSNBB49. “There’s no doubt about it, sir, that is a Federation ship!” Four-eyes cries out to the bridge officer. There is loud confusion in the room as nobody can make any sense of it.

“A Federation battleship— emerging from Lübeck ?” The bridge officer repeats in horror, confirming the fact that it is, indeed, a Federation battleship, “this doesn’t make any sense… perhaps… they expected to mop up resistance from Valspon?!” Unsure of what to make of the situation, the bridge officer paces around, before stopping to point at one of the other bridge staff. “See if you can patch us through that battleship! I will go and see where the CO and XO ar—”

“There is no need for that, we came as soon as we saw a blinding light,” the voice of the long-bearded ginger-haired commander cuts off the alarmed bridge officer, “what is going on?” He inquires in a harsh tone with a sharp gaze fixated on the lone Federation battleship.

Generally, this would be the time for formal salutes; but there is none of it. The bridge officer clears his throat and presents himself before the commander. “Sir! A single ship we identified as a Federation battleship has emerged from a warp exit point without prior warning or so much as a hail yet…” Commander Ginger nods and strokes his beard. “What are your orders?” The bridge officer asks diligently although still visibly shaken by the warp jump.

Commander Ginger crosses his arms, and shifts his eyes between the Federation battleship and his men, “I take it we have yet to establish communications with the battleship?…” The bearded commander asks, and the bridge officer looks back at the communication operator who also shakes his head. “—Do we know if any of the other ships have been able to contact the battleship?” The communications operator again shakes his head no. Commander Ginger once again strokes his beard in ponder, “…perhaps it’s communication systems have malfunctioned? And the warp exit point… it’s still active?” All eyes trained on the now herculean-sized rift that existed just behind the Federation battleship. The occasional strike of lighting manifests around it.

Could more ships be coming? Four-eyes finds it rather odd that this ship only arrived by itself. They were taught in intermediate classes that it was a part of Federation doctrine to have destroyer screens in front of the main battle-line—even during warp jumps—to ensure that a bridgehead could be established ahead of the host that yet to reinforce the position —if the circumstances permitted it. A battleship arriving by itselfahead of the accompanying screen is rather concerning. It could be that there were an awkward scramble and inexperienced officers at play. But whatever the case…

“Has there been any incoming transmissions from Lübeck? If the Federation has already taken it…” The commander trails off. He stops stroking his beard and burrows his thick brow. His squinting eyes darted to Four-eyes, “you are sure that it is identified as a Federation battleship?” The commander asks, to which Four-eyes bobbles his head, after which Commander Ginger directs another question to the bridge officer, “see if you bring up an enhanced visual of the Federation and display it on the mainframe screen.” The bridge officer barks the order to one of his subordinates, who then swiftly showcases a zoomed-in image of the lone Federation battleship. Four-eyes cranes his neck to get a glimpse of it—and then confusion sets in.

It is, sure enough, a Federation battleship through and through. But the battleship looks like a much older model judging from its design. The ones Four-eyes has seen are, without a doubt, more modern. But there’s something about it that feels off… but Four-eyes can’t place his finger on it. “That hull coating… it looks rather… decayed, does it not?” The musing voice of Warrant Officer Freckles echoes the thoughts of the bridge. Indeed, for the most part, the coating looks undeniably deteriorated. Just thinking about it makes Four-eyes shudder at the thought of Freckles or another superior breathing down their necks for poor maintenance duties if that happened to be theBataan. The Admiralty may not care about this dinky little destroyer, but the Bataan’s staff certainly do!

But it was the stripes of darker, clean looking coating that made Four-eyes confused. It’s baffling why the crew of this battleship would have a bizarre design of black lines over the lighter coating, which looks deliberate and not just half-assed. Something about it makes the hair on Four-eye’s neck stand up.

The somewhat composed voice of the ginger commander breaks the eerily spell. “—What is that battleship’s identification bearing?”

Four-eyes breaks free from his trained sight on the battleship and looks down at his green radar screen. MSNBB49. Metropolitan Space Navy Battleship number forty-nine.

With a clear of his throat, Four-eyes repeats the bearing out-loud for the bridge to hear but it proves to be too difficult—his mouth is suddenly inexplicably dry “S-sir!…um… the hull bearing… i-is… —Metropolitan—Space—Navy—B… b-battleship nu—number forty-nine.” Four-eyes utters in-between constant clearing of his throat, and when Four-eyes turns to look back at Commander Ginger… the color has completelydrained from his face. His mouth is left ajar, and his deep-blue eyes are wide in terror. Looking around, most of the veteran officers are similarly in deep shock.

“BB49…” The ginger commander utters, “the— Jaguar… it cannot— it cannot be! ”His pupils twitch with each word. Suddenly he breaks free of the paralyzed spell and extends an arm toward the bridge, “ALL HANDS! LEVEL ONE BATTLE STATIONS! CLOSE THE SHUTTERS AND—”

“S-SIR! Another ship is emerging from the warp point!” Someone cries out, and once again, all eyes are trained toward the black hole. A slim, jet-black ship emerges next to the BB49, which seems to be of near-equal size.

The gaze of the spectacled leading sailor falls once again to the green order, and his breath comes in short bursts.

A bright red blip. The bearing merely says MF-000; Mafia-Force number Zero. This is a bearing Four-eyes knows is more familiar with unlike that of the battleship. His red-mane warrant officer leans into the screen next to him and gasps in terror. “S-sir!” She nearly cries out as she pulls herself back and reels around to face the other bridge crew, “Th—that ship!—It—it’s the—”

“The Madame… Scarface…” Commander Ginger finishes for her in a defeated tone, having already resigned to sink into his captain’s chair, his arms visibly shaking on the chair’s armrests. His eyes have gotten so sunken it almost looks like he is completely sleep-deprived.

Per the commander’s order, a deafening siren goes off as a masculine voice announces ‘all hands to battle-stations’. It is soon accompanied by the wailing of the metal rollers as they descend to cover the open windows.

“M—more ships are emerging from the warp points!” Someone screams pointing ahead, and Four-eyes looks on as dozens… hundreds, perhaps even a thousand ships partially encased in ice emerge from various points across the herculean black hole. Some of the lightning whips seem to get even more ferocious. Some of the lightning has gotten so intense that it coils around the Bataan.

But the radar... it didn't show any new blips. It was still the same two...

“Four-eyes! You imbecile! Get away from the control panels!” Officer Freckles screams as Four-eyes suddenly finds himself thrown from his chair—right before his station is overloaded from electrically and nearly blows up. Before he knows it, Freckles has him pinned down underneath her. Her locks of hair nearly block his vision.

The Bataan nearly rocks around as it seems to spiral out of control, causing both Freckles and Four-eyes to roll around on the floor like rag dolls. The siren and announcer are cut short by near darkness and cries of wounded men unlucky to escape the electric shock caused by the warp’s whips.

Four-eyes can make out someone barking orders—but he can’t decipher what they’re saying. The throw from Freckles makes it impossible to regain any of his senses back. And speaking of which…

His glasses must have been thrown off since it’s hard to even look around—everything is a borderline blur. He can barely make out the red-maned warrant officer still clenching him closely, and even registers the fact that she is slapping his cheek repeatedly.

“Four… eyes…. Oi! Four-eyes… ‘ya can’t die yet… ‘ya can’t…” From what Four-eyes can tell, she’s probably tearing up. Huh, he ponders at the back of his mind, so even this always-snappy irritated aunt figure can cry, fancy that.

Using what strength he can muster the leading sailor blindly searches his immediate surroundings for his glasses—and finally manages to slip them on after enough effort of trying. He feels droplets of wet tears splash his cheek and glasses. Officer Freckle looks hopelessly sad all right. She has her mouth puckered in an effort to stop the tears but it is useless. They have flowed down her beautiful light cheeks down onto him.

Finding that his strength was slowly coming back to him he clasps the hand that was slapping him, and Freckles tries her best to halt the tears. There were still others barking others to others on top of men screaming, but Four-eyes didn’t particularly care anymore. The Bataan’s curse is going to get the best of them in the end. Likely, he will never return home and find someone to settle down with. What a waste.

“Warrant Officer—No…” Four-eyes blinks several times to reprocess what he wants to say; a lot of crazy thoughts were swirling around in his head owing to the fact that they will die any second now. ”—Nia Spiegel… this might sound strange, but… I like you. I’ve… always—liked you, like, a lot. Even if we die right now, I just wanted to know… did you like me too?” Four-eyes ask with a quivering voice.

Nia makes a lot of funny faces—a brow that raises and falls. Eyes that dart around like in those pong games Four-eyes played when he was younger—and her entire face is graced by a luminescent blush almost as red as her flowing hair. “Yes… yes, I do, ‘ya dolt.”

“Would you like me enough that… if the Bataan survives and we make it home, you’d want to marry me and bug me for the rest of our lives?” He asks with nothing to lose. There’s no way the Bataan will survive through the likes of the Madame Scarface.

It’s those words that cause Nia unable to contain the floodgates of tears anymore. She lowers her face onto his chest and squeezes his hand. “Yes… I’d be happy to tak—” Her words are drowned out by sobbing, and Four-eyes places his arms around her.

Even if he and Nia were going to perish any moment now, Four-eyes is relieved he got to spend his final moments with the one he loves.