Sara's tail implant did not add any processing power like some thought a spinal jack tail could. Rather, it gave Sara the ability to sort information more quickly, like having 40 LCDs of information, but able to see and interpret the information accurately and instantaneously. The other half of its utility was giving its user the tools to interface seamlessly with computers and technology without a keyboard, controller, or computer mouse.

  In the case of the sensor console, Sara performed her job with her normal set of skills, but interpreted data and all tertiary information more thoroughly. An onlooker might wrongly assume that she had melded her entire body to the computer, given how Sara was interpreting and relaying information so much faster, painting a picture of space around Grimoire with her confident call-outs.

  In the end, it was all just Sara without any middle management of her body interpreting signals through its numerous steps. For the brain to decide to close its fingers in a hand, then send a signal to close the fingers in one's hand, was a seven-step process, and the interface between Sara and the computer was at least eight components. All Sara's tail did was make the seven-step process two steps, and the numerous interface mediums and delays seamlessly flow from a single thought, by directly interfacing her nervous system to move information directly to and from her brain, and whatever she was plugged into.

  12 hours into combat, HFS Grimoire, approximately 4 hours of sleep, Nick

  Nick had managed to get to the edge of Sara’s bed without waking her up, at least he hoped. He listened with his eyes closed, trying to visualize her room and reacquaint himself with the sounds. A low background noise of pipes and power humming was noticeable in the pure silence. That wary silence had almost driven him crazy when she was gone, actually contributing something to the ship, unlike him. With Sara asleep, he couldn’t turn on the TV or play music like earlier. His hands twitched, his joke about his skeleton vibrating out of his skin felt real now, like the skin on his hand where gloves that were about to fall off.

  If Whisper ever gives me shit for not staying still, or arguing with the guys about staying in medical, I’m going to lose my shit, I swear! He thought. Standing slowly so as not to shake the bed, practicing moving without opening his eyes to the nice kitchenette Sara had afforded to have in her room. She really must be well off or have a higher status on this ship to have amenities like this in her room. He thought as he busied his hands using as much memory of the few times he had been in her room, and cheating his blind challenge by peaking with his near-sighted vision.

  His busyboding resulted in a small bag of protein bars and assorted items he had learned were useful during prolonged ship-to-ship engagements. Years of listening to stories of Jarls and captains of the Dust systems, and stories from HDF Navy members that were swapped around at bars, paying off again. The little care package would make Sara popular on the bridge if she got called up there. Nick did not once think about what his contribution meant, being the one who assembled the items for the civilian crew who had no experience fighting in a combat zone. In his mind, he still didn't matter. The lies of uselessness, of being a waste of meat not contributing to the ship in his current condition, possessed his mind even as he loaded the bag with caffeine pills and morale-boosting candies.

  He was trying to read the box of crackers when he noticed a red blinking message icon on his wrist comm on the bedside table. Putting it back on his left arm, he fumbled putting on the wired ear headset. Once again, he felt good about his obsession with analog tech, considering his vision impairment. Except that his paper-reading habits weren't much use with him like this. As he activated the audio message, he wished he had more audiobooks he could listen to on his comm anywhere.

  “Hey buddy, I hope you're being safe, and well…you know.” Whisper's voice played, and Nick could hear the concern and references to years of adventures together. Honestly, it all just made him more irritated. “Good news, that last corvette broke away effectively out of range after we obliterated the other two. With Wojtek and the ARCs guarding HFS Grimoire, it's pretty much over. The 13th and 37th Marine Contingent has that cruiser out of action, but they are still securing the rest of the ship. Wait till you see what the Remnant Miltia grew into, it will put your precious HDF to shame, hahaha. Uh, I saw Layal, she’s doing well, contributing where she can. You know how much of a helpful little shit she can be.”

  “Hey!” a distinctly familiar young voice called somewhere near Whisper. Hearing Layal’s voice, Nick couldn't help a smile overtake his grimace. Whisper, better not have her anywhere near danger, hypocritical gremlin.

  “Anywayyyy, given enough time, I’ll dock back with Grimoire, probably drag her with me. Just so you know, we are safe, just on standby. I… I know it’s hard for you, but we got this. Just stay safe and recover. I really don’t want to hear that you went off on your own, or got in everyone's way, again.” Whisper said. Nick grit his teeth at her one-sided perspective of the past. “Well, that's about it. Stay safe, we've got everything under control.” The message clicked as it ended, but something was missing from Whisper’s report that made his skin crawl. Whisper had made no mention of the result of the hell’s bell’s signature, or of any Tinman. To him, this meant that the threat was still out there, looming more menacingly than any starship or mercenaries ever could.

  12 hours into combat, battle report

  VIP Vessel HFS Grimoire designated as Northstar

  ARC 5 and ARC 3 are continuing to picket for HFS Grimoire against surviving Enigma Corvette

  2 Enemy Corvettes destroyed, the last one shadowing Wojtek's task group. Wojtek is approaching Canvas Reach range for effective fire on the surviving Corvette

  No news from couriers dispatched to the rest of the joint task group; they are considered overdue.

  Enigma Cruiser disabled, final holdout remains with increased resistance. Confirmed Tinman controller in the last holdout

  Tinman shell confirmed on the Enigma cruiser, Grey flight, and additional units suppressed Tinman with severe casualties. EMERGENCY: Control switched to a different shell before it was destroyed. Previous combat logs suggest it was retasking to a different shell. No other shells were detected aboard Remnant ships or in space. All available units sweep HFS Grimoire for…wait one, Amending orders…

  12 hours into combat, HFS Grimoire, approximately 4 hours of sleep, Nick

  Sara woke with a start to the door buzzer incessantly ringing, coupled with banging on her door. Nick dropped the nut butter cracker on the floor and swore. Sara started to get dressed in a ship suit over her pajamas, adding to the curses echoing around the room.

  “I got a message a little while ago saying to get ready for a shift on the bridge. Why didn't you wake me?” she huffed.

  “If it were a priority, they would have sent a priority message. I'm not going to look at your wrist comm even if I could see,” Nick said.

  “Ugh, Selena must not have sent it as a priority. Ugh, apparently, something urgent now, they sent somebody to escort me. Do you want to answer the door, please!”

  “Yeah, yeah, just get ready. Oh, on the counter, I tried to make some…for you. And there's a bag to take to the bridge.” Nick said. Man, I feel so awkward. I'm usually the one rushing out the door, not making sure everybody gets their lunch.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  Nick felt his way to the door, which was still buzzing. He opened it and could barely make out the figure of Private Martineze, one of the four Marines he had trained as opfor during the war games.

  “Uh, Maverick Canine, sir. I didn't realize you were here. I have orders to escort Dr. Michalson to the bridge.”

  “Best just call her Sara, she doesn't like people calling her doctor. Any particular reason why they're sending escorts to get people?”

  “Not a particular, sir, but there's some concern that one of those Timen might be a board, but if there is, we'll handle it. That's what you trained us for.”

  Nick stiffened, his blood went cold, and he hit his hands behind his back as they curled into fists, digging his nails into his palm.

  “I suppose that is what we trained for, but it's just a precaution, right? There's been no sightings?”

  “Yes, sir, there's no sighting so far, but can't be too careful,” Private Martineze reassured, but Nick didn't feel any better.

  Sara squeezed past him, affectionately bumping her head into the side of his neck. Speaking through a mouthful of nut butter crackers. “Thank you for the food, get some rest!”

  “Hey, don't forget the bag,” Nick yelled, grabbing the bag from the side of the door. Sara turned around long enough for her to grab it from his hand. “Make sure Selena gets some caffeine pills, and everybody gets a protein bar!”

  “Okay, I'll be back soon.” She said, fast walking down the hall, her escort lingering.

  “So you two finally figured things out, huh?” Private Martineze said with a goofy grin. Nick glared, with no idea what he was referring to.

  “Fucking what?” Nick growled.

  “Oh, sorry, nothing.” Wisely, the private chased after Sara, leaving Nick alone with his thoughts and anxieties. The door closed, and reflexively, he punched the wall, focusing on the pain he unintentionally caused himself. His mind circled memories of fights with the Tinman, conflicts with mercenaries, and the far-too-familiar feeling of trying to stay out of the way. A task he thought would be easier now that he truly was handicapped and injured to a greater extent than he had been before. Far too many things on his mind to consider the simpler problems of life.

  Once again, Nick and Sara were the only two people oblivious to what was obvious to everyone else. Even if Sara had begun to grapple with the long-standing chemistry between them, Nick was absolutely oblivious.

  12 hours into combat, Battle space, somewhere near a surviving enemy Corvette

  Its appearance was smooth, sudden, and unexpected. Its technology was tiers above anything available to humans or the remnant coalition. Even the existence of the advanced recon cruisers that the remnant fielded was no match against the monster. Even if every single ARC was there, it was hopeless. The biggest argument for the existence of an enigmatic force manipulating from behind the scenes was like a black scar against the backdrop of stars. Its mere presence alone heralds a curse of death and destruction. Demoralizing or enraging the survivors of its massacres. The unnamed Black Dreadnought had arrived.

  4d space emergence detected… confirmation, it's the Black Dreadnought. All units, do not engage, repeat, do not engage.

  Moments earlier, 12 hours into combat, HFS Grimoire, approximately 40 minutes of sleep in the last 24 hours, Selena

  At some point, Selena had crossed the threshold of feeling completely exhausted to feeling wide awake. The jitteriness in her hand and mild sluggishness were growing every hour that passed, though. Seeing Sara walk onto the bridge with her red-hued tail, a bag of protein bars, and caffeine pills that were like liquid gold to Selena. The sweet thing was like an angel whose adorable presence was almost as uplifting as the two caffeine pills Selena greedily shoved into her mouth.

  “Thank you, Sara, although I will remind everybody that outside of emergencies, we will be going back to no food and drink on the bridge and CIC.” Captain Abrams said. Sara handed out more protein bars to the crew before offering one to Selena.

  “Thanks, sweetie, you're a lifesaver,” Selena accepted the protein bar.

  “Thank Nick. He put all this together,” Sara said.

  “That man is quite a catch, you're a very lucky girl,” Selena said.

  “I don't know what you mean by that, but he's definitely always good to have around, ”Sara said with a slight blush. Selena sighed, recalling what Dribbles had said about Sara and Nick. They really did act like an old married couple sometimes, but were somehow oblivious to how well they would go together.

  “Take that bag to the room down the hall, then get back here and take over sensors,” Selena ordered. Sara nodded and ran off, her tail flipping hypnotically back and forth, reminding Selena of a comforting plushie that she wanted to squeeze.

  “Things have calmed down, Selena. You should try to get some sleep.” Captain Abrams said. Solar air resisted the urge to talk back at him about how he should have mentioned that before she took two caffeine pills. Still, she would welcome the break.

  That was when the Black Dreadnought appeared, along with the first sensor returns that heralded its ire towards HFS Grimoire.

  “Missile launch detected. At least 30, no 60…signatures over 150 to 200 missiles inbound towards Grimoire!” Grimoire's third watch sensor yelled his voice trailing off in despair.

  “Give me a better estimate. Operations coordinate with the Remnant forces. Helm, give me 30° down, then 5 seconds of a 5g burn. Adjust course at your discretion and continue acceleration at 3.5 gravity. XO!...”

  “Aye, captain, coordinating with engineering and departments now.” Selena reached for the intercom as well, catching Captain Abrams eye. A short nod acknowledged her intercom announcement. In such a short time, their working relationship was growing rapidly, already sometimes anticipating the other’s intent.

  “All hands brace brace brace 5g. Say again, 5 seconds 5 gravity burn brace brace brace!” 3 gravities were already pushing on everyone.

  Sara crawled through the door under 3.5 gravities. “Brace, damit.” Someone yelled. Whether it was directed at Sara or somebody else on the bridge who was exerting themselves too much. Sara flattened to the floor, wrapping her arms around a floor-level handhold. Nothing to do for the few seconds at full 5 gravity, except thanking the stars for the redundant features like floor level loops for bracing. Yet again, Selena was missing the bridge with its padded chairs and layout efficient for emergency burns. She made a mental note to try to get the CIC retrofitted even after the bridge came back online.

  Through the soft rumble of the vibrating decks, there was a humming whine as Sara's face scrunched up in concentration, trying to adjust her tail implants to the sudden strain until the ship dropped back down to three gravities, but at an odd angle as the ship began a turn.

  “Sara on sensors now.” Captain Abrams yelled while everyone slowly crawled back up to stand over their stations, the sensor operator wobbling to the secondary sensor console.

  Sara exerted to walk as if on a tilted walkway to the station, her eyes already drinking in information before she was even fully standing at the station. Selena's stomach dropped, realizing how late Sara was coming into the situation. Had she even known there were missiles launched before the emergency burn? Coming into the situation cold was daunting enough for any line officer. On top of it all, Sara had to work rapidly, but Selena knew why Sara had been moved to first watch, and now everyone else was about to find out.

  “Three salvos of 60 missiles, 180 in total, 380,000 km enclosing! I'm getting some weird background I don't recognize!” Sara relayed her interpretations as she made them. The captain studied a display that showed a large overview of Grimoire’s surroundings and estimated tracks of ships, objects, and missiles. A rough red Haze represented the approaching missiles.

  “Helm 5g course burn one minute. Get me a 50°, ventral dive, make sure you wait till the last second to start the turn, give those missiles as little time as possible to think,” the captain said figuratively. Even the dumbest missile brains made their calculations at the speed of light. The less time they had available to judge Grimoire's new course was less important than the timing of the burn, giving what Captain Abrams hoped was the optimal track to delay the missile's impact. There was no real chance of dodging missiles in space. Their only hope was the meager point defense cannons and one of the ARCs getting into position to thin that cloud of missiles.

  ARC 3 and ARC 5 had been caught out of position. Both ships maneuvered to intercept, but only ARC 3 looked like it would make it in time.

  “The two Remnant cruisers are launching torpedoes at…the missiles?” Sara said, confused. Torpedoes tend to be slower and heavier than missiles, among other differences. It made more sense to send your own missiles to intercept missiles, not Torpedoes.

  “Michalson, I gave you permission to use that tail of yours, so use it!” The captain yelled over the raised voices in the room. Sara's back stiffened at the rebuke, but wasted no time flicking her tail around her to find an appropriate input jack. The tip of her tail was secured by the heart-shaped flap adhering to the closest data port.

  “Remnant torpedoes detonating!” Sara called out, the stream of information continuing from her lips as 180 missiles raced towards them less than a minute until estimated intercept.