Meanwhile, aboard the vessel, Swift70 had already become acutely aware that they were now under the watchful eye of the Japanese military.
Felzein and Cherlyn had succumbed to a brief slumber, fifteen minutes of uneasy rest.
True to its promise, Swift70 roused them with the utmost care.
“Felzein, dearest...” came the soft, almost tender murmur of the ship’s voice, slicing gently through the silence.
Felzein stirred, his eyelids fluttering open, expression still lost in the haze of sleep, “Mm... Fifteen minutes already?” he mumbled, suppressing a yawn as the weight of his limbs reminded him that rest had only just begun to settle in.
“Yes, it’s been long enough,” Swift70 replied, its tone shifting, growing solemn. “There’s something you must know.”
Felzein sat up, his senses sharpening in an instant, “What is it?”
“They’ve found us,” Swift70 said plainly. “The Japanese military. They’ve already begun preparations. If they judge us to be a threat, they won’t hesitate to act. We may be facing direct engagement.”
Felzein froze, the words taking a moment to register. Then, his eyes widened, heart pounding, “What?!”
His voice cracked with disbelief, “Have they already deployed intelligence teams?!”
“They have. But that’s not all,” Swift70 continued, its voice now laced with a gravitas that deepened the atmosphere in the cabin. “Their naval fleet is also on the move destroyers, surveillance craft, warships. They're repositioning for potential engagement.”
The air around them thickened with the weight of what was unfolding.
“Swift70! Scan for incoming vessels! I want a full tactical readout of any ship preparing to intercept us,” Felzein commanded, his voice edged with urgency.
“At once, dearest,” Swift70 replied, still soft, still composed, though the tension in its circuits was almost palpable.
The radar console aboard the Swift70 came alive with a soft, pulsing glow as electromagnetic waves fanned out into the surrounding sea like silent ripples on a midnight lake.
Powered by some of the most advanced radar and sonar systems ever conceived, the vessel parsed its environment with surgical precision, scanning for any sign of hostility.
“Analysing...” came Swift70’s calm, modulated voice, as streaming data coalesced into shifting patterns across the display. Each blip, curve, and pulse a whisper from the deep.
“I’ve detected five large surface vessels in the north-eastern quadrant,” it continued. “Four Atago-class destroyers and a single sub-surface reconnaissance vessel. Speed thirty-five knots. They’re advancing in an attack formation.”
Felzein’s gaze settled on the tactical map now rendered in sharp relief on the main screen.
“Their heading?” he asked, his hand resting tensely on the edge of the console.
“They are veering northwest towards coordinates thirty-eight degrees north, one hundred and forty-three east. Their movement is deliberate... co-ordinated. An engagement appears imminent,” Swift70 replied, its voice now edged with a subtle, almost imperceptible tension.
Felzein drew in a quiet breath, jaw clenched, “Activate all defensive systems. Hold them at distance. We won’t give them the luxury of initiative.”
“At once, my love,” responded the vessel's, its dulcet tones now sharpened by urgency. “All radar, sonar, and comms protocols are now set to high-alert. Autonomous defence systems are standing by, fully armed.”
Felzein turned, casting a swift glance toward Cherlyn who still sound asleep, curled in quiet defiance of the tension coiling through the control chamber.
“Cherlyn! Wake up! We’re in danger!” he called out, reaching to shake her by the shoulder. But she did not stir.
“Cherlyn, come on, wake up!” he tried again, voice louder, but her slumber held firm.
He exhaled heavily, the edge of frustration creeping into his tone, “Swift70... wake her.”
“With absolute pleasure, darling,” replied Swift70, its voice smoothing like silk before suddenly shifting gears.
A moment later, the vessel’s internal speakers erupted in a shriek pitched in a flawless, if absurdly exaggerated, imitation of Cherlyn’s own voice, only several octaves higher and several degrees more furious.
“YOU WRETCHED HARPY!!! WAKE UUUP!! DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH, YOU SLEEPING IMBECILE?!”
Cherlyn started as if struck by lightning, her eyes flying open wide, breath caught in her chest.
For a heartbeat, she sat frozen in a haze of bewilderment, then shot upright, fury lighting her features like a storm.
“You idiotic machine!” she cried, voice shrill with indignation. “How many times must I say it! Never call me a harpy!”
Her fist came down hard on the console.
THUMP!
“INSOLENT GIRL! DO YOU INTEND TO SMASH ME TO PIECES?!” Swift70 snapped back, its usually composed tone now brimming with affronted pride.
Felzein watched them both with the weary gaze of a long-suffering commander.
He exhaled deeply and muttered under his breath, “And so… the theatre resumes.”
“That’s quite enough!” he barked, raising his voice to cut through the rising chaos. “Cherlyn, focus. We’re being tracked by the Japanese military. They’re mobilising to intercept us!”
Cherlyn whirled on him, her brows drawn in disbelief, “Which Cherlyn are you talking to?! Me, or this deranged bucket of bolts?!”
“YOU’RE THE BLOODY BUCKET, YOU MALFUNCTIONING HOMINID!” Swift70 retorted with gleeful venom.
Felzein pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling another long sigh before pointing squarely at the woman.
“You. I’m talking to you! Get ready!,” he said, voice low but firm.
“For what?!” she demanded, blinking at him as though he’d asked her to wrestle Poseidon.
“For war, obviously!” Felzein replied, exasperated. “Dear heavens, must I spell everything out? Honestly, Cherlyn, shall I draw diagrams too? You’re being impossibly slow today.”
Swift70 erupted with delight, voice crackling through the ship’s speakers like giddy thunder.
“OH, DARLING, I LIVE FOR THE WAY YOU CALL HER SLOW!”
“Silence!!” Cherlyn bellowed, whirling to glare at the speaker array, eyes blazing.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Without warning, the alarm pierced the air, shrill and unrelenting.
The radar flared to life, tracing the rapid advance of several objects from the northeast quadrant.
Felzein swung towards the console, “What in blazes is that?!”
Swift70’s voice, unusually taut, answered at once, “They’ve launched torpedoes. But... something’s not quite right.”
Felzein’s gaze sharpened, “What do you mean, ‘not right’?”
“I’m still within Indonesian waters,” the vessel explained, “yet they’re not targeting me directly. They’re aiming for the trajectory I’m expected to take. It’s an interception attempt. They’re plotting to cut us off.”
Felzein rose swiftly, his expression hardening, “Clever devils… They’re not pursuing us. They’re laying an ambush.”
“Precisely, darling. They’ve calculated my speed and heading, then launched towards the projected point of convergence. It’s a maritime chessboard, and they’ve just made their move,” replied Swift70, all trace of levity gone from its tone.
Felzein inhaled slowly, mind racing, “What’s the speed of those torpedoes?”
“Three hundred and fifty knots. But here’s the critical point. They’ve fired from a position a mere three hundred kilometres off Japan’s Exclusive Economic Zone."
"At our current velocity, without deviation, impact will occur in approximately seven minutes. Right where I’m projected to pass.”
A wry, contemptuous smile tugged at Felzein’s lips, “They truly believe they can outmanoeuvre us?”
There was a brief, dry chuckle from Swift70. Then, in a voice low and grave, “If we stay the course, their trap just might succeed.”
Felzein’s jaw tightened, “Divert full navigational control to me. Let’s turn their trap into a lesson.”
Swift70 responded without hesitation, its voice calm yet tinged with mischief, “Primary helm transferred to the command deck. Show them how it's done, my love…”
With purposeful strides, Felzein took his place at the helm.
The console bathed his face in a pale electric glow as his fingers danced across the holographic controls, subtle, exact, deliberate.
The engines responded like muscle to nerve.
Cherlyn approached, fastening the last strap of her combat jacket, her brow furrowed in concern.
“You’re really taking the helm yourself?”
Still focused on the display, Felzein replied coolly, “I once slipped past four missiles in the Strait of Hormuz at less than 800 metres. This? A few torpedoes crawling through open water? It’s child’s play.”
Swift70 chimed in, voice silk over steel, “Child’s play, is it? I should remind you, these aren’t ordinary warheads. Type-89s. Precision-engineered Japanese design. Their guidance systems adjust at twenty Gs. Not exactly slow.”
Felzein let out a low scoff, “Then let them try and catch me.”
The vessel responded to his touch with startling grace, veering into a complex spiral, tight, fluid, lethal.
It slithered through the ocean like a serpent born of current and steel, every shift in motion confounding the path behind them.
Cherlyn grasped the nearest rail, her eyes narrowing as the deck shuddered under the violent manoeuvres.
“You’re not going to increase speed?” she asked, half incredulous.
Felzein’s eyes flicked to her for a breath, “Speed’s not the issue,” he murmured. “What matters… is how chaotic a wake we leave.”
On the monitor, the torpedoes’ trajectories began to waver, their paths no longer sure.
One by one, they veered from their original course, scattering like wolves losing the scent.
Swift70’s voice rang out with urgent clarity, “Three of the five have lost target acquisition! The remaining two are still locked on, but if we descend into the lower thermal strata, their guidance systems will falter.”
Without hesitation, Felzein’s fingers danced across the command panel, “Deploy thermal decoys immediately!”
A flicker of delight laced Swift70’s voice, “With pleasure, darling!”
From the stern of the vessel, a cluster of compact canisters jettisoned into the dark waters, releasing vast plumes of artificial heat.
The surrounding sea shimmered with sudden energy, masking the ship's true location in a cloud of engineered confusion.
A fresh warning blared across the radar console.
“One torpedo’s diverted!” Swift70 announced. “The last one… has lost its lock entirely!”
Felzein grasped the control lever with steely determination and pulled hard, “Adjust course bearing 142. We’re diving. Full depth!”
The ship shuddered as it plunged into the abyss, slicing through the ocean’s crushing layers like a blade.
Moments later, far behind them, a solitary explosion rumbled through the deep, harmless now, but no less a reminder of what had almost been.
The tremor passed, the silence that followed was thick and breathless.
Cherlyn, wide-eyed, clutched the console and whispered, “Did we… make it?”
Felzein nodded, his face a calm mask over tightly drawn nerves, “For now. But they’ll be back.”
Swift70’s voice dropped to a hush, tinged with solemnity, “We’re no longer a curiosity… We’re now a confirmed military threat.”
Felzein stared into the vast dark ahead, his voice low with weariness, almost grief.
“And to think… all I wanted was to see Ryu again.”