a/n: None of my section separation characters seem to be working... my apologies for the confusion. Anyway, this is for RangerH. And many thanks for the technical corrections and advice, to those who have offered them.

Chapter 11

The net result of equal and opposite forces is a velocity vector of zero. Put more clearly: it doesn't matter how much power you throw at the problem; until you agree on a direction, you're going nowhere.

"Range to target: 1500 meters. As of yet, no active sonar contact. It's possible they haven't seen us."

"Deploy dive team to their assigned coordinates. They have 2.6 minutes to attain the position and deploy the torpedo."

"Dive team deployed, count begun."

"Helm, make your heading 009, three degree down bubble, speed 5 knots. Give Renegade our broadside."

"Helm to 009, three degree down bubble, aye." Not that the helmsman was actually making any adjustments to the navigation at this time. The captain had total control of that, however she'd given Mardukas the task of setting the stage and for the moment at least was following his coordination of the situation. They had roughly ten minutes to set things in motion before the Chinese arrived, and Tessa believed in delegating. Mardukas had always appreciated that about his captain.

"Reconfirm location of the Titania." He glanced over at the sonar relay console where Lieutenant Sylva was on the headphones.

"Holding steady on course, speed 17 knots. Our current course will put us perpendicular in three minutes, twelve seconds." Sylva looked nervous. Mardukas allowed himself a bit of private amusement at this. He'd have been nervous himself, were it not for his absolute trust of the Captain's abilities in this arena. The plan was risky in the extreme. First, bait the Sea Tiger with a torpedo fired from a trajectory that would securely frame the Renegade. Meanwhile, the Renegade had to be coaxed to parallel De Danaan's course up under the Titania. A brief sonar contact should make them curious enough to attempt it, and when they had, they'd find themselves on a collision course with an angry Sea Tiger. A very grown up game of chicken would start between two of the world's strongest navies, and De Danaan would disappear into the noise and turbulence of Titania's three massive propellers.

There were several obvious hitches. First, Sea Tiger had to destroy the torpedo. Second, Renegade had to take the course they'd chosen for her. Finally, in order to drive themselves into the protected and hidden space beneath the Titania, De Danaan would have to swim shallow enough to ride over the Renegade, without scraping the container ship or being hammered to pieces by her propellers. On any ordinary sub, it would have been impossible. On the De Danaan on a good day, it would have been decidedly tricky. With port-side propulsion effectively down and power at a premium, the plan balanced precariously in the middle ground of dangerously optimistic.

"Divers report torpedo has been deployed."

"Sensors confirm: torpedo in the water, target has been acquired." Sylva gulped slightly and Mardukas could see sweat on the man's forehead. Had it not been unprofessional, he would have laughed. If you think this is bad, wait until our Captain takes over...

As if reading his thoughts, the Captain's icon appeared on the Commander's console. Her computer-generated voice sounded softly from the console.

"Preparations confirmed. Thank you Commander." Strange that he could almost hear her child-like smile in the computerized voice. "Please monitor Sea Tiger, while I play a little tag with Renegade."

#-

Kaname lay back on the grass beneath the Arbalest, utterly exhausted. The fruits of her night's labors could be seen scrawled in wax pen over every metal surface her arms could reach – schematics, instructions, calculations, diagrams all penned in careful characters almost, but never entirely, identical to her own handwriting. She could feel sweat matting her hair and making her stitches itch. She could feel the crawling discomfort of skin gone too long without a bath. She could feel the slight ache in her jaw from talking all night, but the fact that she was finally back in her own body and feeling anything at all was unspeakably refreshing. The Whispers had been more than happy to give her the information and insight she needed, but getting them to stop had been like fighting gravity.

In truth, she wasn't entirely sure how she'd won out at all. She'd been in deep. For the first hours (or at least what felt like hours), she had acquiesced willingly to her other selves and felt herself drawn far into the ocean of reason. By the time she realized how far removed from her body she'd become, it had taken all her effort just to maintain some semblance of self-awareness. So how did I get free? For half a breath, she wondered if Yoshi's ghost had somehow come through for her as his living self always had. Her saner self came down hard on that speculation, however and she decided that opening her eyes and assessing the situation was called for. If only her eyelids weren't so heavy.

"Oh, I have the mother of all headaches," she murmured to herself, throwing an arm over her face.

"Would you care for aspirin?" The familiar voice sounded extremely close. Kaname groaned.

"How long have you been here?"

"Approximately 4.6 hours. I arrived shortly after Mr. Weber got under way. Sergeant Mao returned to the station to rest, and I took it upon myself to watch you." It would almost have sounded sweet, if it hadn't been phrased like something out of a bad episode of Mission Impossible.

"Wait a minute, you've been watching me for five hours?" Kaname felt her cheeks grow warm beneath her arm, and was surprised at how embarrassing the thought of Sousuke watching her work with the Whispers was. "What was I doing?" Dumb question, but for some reason, his perspective was important. Kaname didn't like the powerlessness she felt in the thrall of the Whispers, and was even less fond of the thought that Sousuke had witnessed it.

"You appeared to be transcribing notes pertaining to arm slaves, lambda drivers and what I believe may be psi-field generators onto the armor plating of this arm slave. This continued for approximately four and one half hours, at which point you began demonstrating symptoms of physical distress, ceased writing and attempted to injure yourself." Kaname cringed. It had always been something of a last resort when she felt trapped by the Whispers. Something about trauma tended to dislodge the voices. "I prevented you."

A nuance of his tone caused her to finally move her arm and open her eyes. Looking straight up, she found herself staring at Sousuke's upside-down face. He was sitting in the grass directly behind her head, looking down at her. She wondered how he could be so close without her having realized it, but then again, the Whispers did have a tendency to ruin her perception of her surroundings. She took a closer look at her friend and noticed that he seemed both concerned and somewhat uncomfortable.

"How'd you manage that?" She kept her voice light and curious.

"Uh..." Was Sousuke blushing? What had he done? Had he--? Memories of Yoshi's favorite method of 'rescuing' her from the Whispered state flashed into her mind. Sousuke would never have dared something like that, would he? He'd better not have. A comfortably familiar irritation stirred in the back of her mind even as an unfamiliar wistfulness colored her speculations.

"Sousuke...?" she purred, knowing he'd pick up on the impending threat. Halisen or no, she could be intimidating when she wanted to.

"Well, er..."

"Sousuke!" She let her voice assume the imperative tone that had so terrorized him in high school, but with an undercurrent of amusement. She wasn't the blushing and sensitive girl she'd been, and she was too exhausted to prevent herself from finding the ordinarily stoic sergeant's discomfiture entertaining.

"I temporarily immobilized your jaw. You seem unable to maintain a Whispered state when silent, and I reasoned this course of action would affect a more acceptable solution than your attempt to aggravate your head injury." He wasn't looking at her as he answered, instead staring straight ahead in what Kaname had come to regard as his "reporting" posture. Immobilized, huh? She decided not to press. Later she might have the energy to properly misconstrue and take offense, but for the moment fatigue was winning out.

"Right," she commented, with just enough knowing to keep her friend on his toes. Then she sat up. "So can you read what I wrote?" Her head spun a little at the minute change in altitude and she paused to avoid admitting to it. Sousuke moved ever so slightly to place his chest and shoulder at her disposal and she leaned against him, surprised at his tact.

"Your handwriting is for the most part legible, although some of your instructions are beyond my capacity to execute. I'm afraid my knowledge of engineering extends only as far as rudimentary field repairs." They stared together at the complicated diagram of circuitry on the Arm Slave's left shin plate. "I believe the Sergeant Major's expertise may be more helpful in this regard, however. She has a surprising aptitude for jury-rigging, as we discovered last month in Libya. We were pinned down under fire in a highly sandy location..." he began the story somewhat hesitantly, but when the usual sharp reprimand for discussing anything military was not forthcoming he proceeded to share the entire tale (or at least as much of it as would not compromise his oaths of secrecy), highlighting his comrade's ingenuity.

As usual, he found himself enthralled by memories of the event and it only occurred to him as he was ending his recount that Kaname had been unusually tolerant in her listening. When he shifted slightly and her head fell limply against his neck, reality provided the explanation. He picked her up carefully – there was no sense denying her a little rest – and headed back to the post. As he walked, the realization that he was looking forward to her exasperation slipped into his thoughts and he held her a little more tightly.

#-

She met him at the door with a can of pepper spray and a camera, the latter snapping several pictures before he had a chance to cross the threshold. The cheerfully smiling young woman was attired like a seasoned CNN war correspondent, helmet, film vest and all; her apartment in a state of fortified disorder that suggested an interesting couple of days. Mao's instructions that Kurz bring back both the picture and the girl made a lot of sense, if this was the situation.

"It's really you!" She seemed surprised, and Kurz had to think for a moment to remember when they'd actually met before. At least she seemed less likely to spray him. That stuff hurt and he really didn't want to have to explain to Mao that he'd been taken out by a civilian with personal safety aids.

"Yeah. Been a while since the karaoke bar, Miss Tokiwa." She had really turned into a rather attractive young lady, he thought, before taking another look around the apartment. It was the sort of single room affair common to college students in Tokyo, one side lined with wall to wall closets, a sink, single burner stove and minuscule refrigerator serving as kitchen and the third wall filled with desk, window and bookshelves. At present, it looked as though most of the furniture had been moved back recently, and drag marks on the floor suggested she'd been spending most of her time with everything crammed against the door.

"Please call me Kyoko – you're one of Kaname's friends, after all," she commented, opening the refrigerator. "Would you like a drink? You look kinda tired."

"Thanks," he replied, accepting a can of tea. "So, looks like you've had company." For a moment she seemed a little confused by this, but then she smiled.

"Oh, not really. It's just that someone searched Kaname's, Yoshi's and Joel's apartments, and somebody's been following me around the campus lately. So I thought, better safe than sorry, you know?" He nodded and she pulled a key out of the freezer before grabbing a multi-tool from one of her vest pockets and prying at a floor board. "That and Kaname said this thing I'm supposed to give you is pretty important, and I sure didn't want to lose it before I could give it to you." The board was removed to reveal a rather no-nonsense floor safe. Kyoko hid the combination dial with one hand as she opened it with the other, then pulled the steel door open and reached in to withdraw a plastic photo envelope. "Oh, but I did take it to the photo lab and blew up the thing she wanted a better look at." She opened the envelope to show him an enlarged photograph of the blue-haired girl hugging a dark-haired young man in a lab coat. "How is Kaname, anyway? Is she feeling better? I know Sousuke said he was going to take care of her, but..."

"She seems a lot better. I think she'll probably be coming back to school soon." Kurz put on a charming nothing-further-to-tell smile, but Kyoko was clearly going to be one hell of a reporter. She saw right through it.

"Is she still in danger? 'Cause I mean, lawyers for Yoshi's grant sponsors have been looking for her, not to mention his family lawyer and then there's the guys with the guns. I don't know if she should come back here any time soon." She was still holding the envelope. "Whatever Yoshi was working on was pretty big stuff, and it's kinda strange you and Sousuke showing up out of nowhere after all this time. You want to tell me what's really going on?"

"Yeah, well about that, the less you know the better, probably." She smiled at him because it was more polite than laughing, and Kurz realized Kyoko Tokiwa was born to her chosen profession. "There's really not much I can tell you?" he tried, smirking. She continued smiling politely. He laughed. Oh well. It wasn't like he'd been ordered to be cagey, and evasive was more Sousuke's thing anyway. "Look, Kaname's safe for now, and the sooner I get that picture to her, the safer she'll be. Other than that, you can ask her when you see her." Kyoko stared at him a moment, and Kurz wondered how much convincing it was going to take. In his experience, getting a reporter's curiosity was enough to make her follow you anywhere, but Kyoko was still pretty young. Then she nodded.

"That's okay, then. So I'm coming with you?" She pulled what looked to be a packed overnight bag from the floor beside the desk, then began assembling a group of several more small, nylon packs. At Kurz's raised eyebrow, she explained. "Well, I've got to take at least a couple cameras..."

"Well, I don't know," he hedged, inwardly amused at the way Kyoko's look became earnest and determined at the thought of being excluded. "I'm not inviting you on a journalism field-trip." He thought of something and grinned. "Of course, you can take all the pictures of me you want, but as for the rest... there is some pretty serious stuff going on."

"I knew it! I knew there was more to this than just old high school friends. Who do you guys work for? You and Sousuke do work together, right?" She'd produced a notebook seemingly from thin air and was fishing for a pencil in one of her vest pockets. Kurz laughed.

"You don't give up!"

"Oh, I don't mean to be pushy." She pulled off a demure look well enough that he had to respect her acting abilities. "Still, it would be a great scoop if I could prove some sort of global conspiracy – especially since my friend's involved in it. But really, I just want to help. It's tough knowing she's in trouble and not being able to do anything about it, you know?" She looked at him thoughtfully.

"Look, this has to stay completely off the record. No pictures or story or anything."

"Not even just some holiday photos? I mean, if I only took my camera phone..." Kyoko did puppy eyes pretty well too. He considered it for a moment. Her hobby would probably keep her calmer through the trip and anything else that might happen, but mailing the pictures to herself...

"No phone. But I'll buy you a disposable at the airport, okay?" It would be easy enough to steal or destroy later. She seemed appeased by this, however. He gestured to her overnight bag. "You got a swimsuit in there?"

"Yeah..." but she looked a little confused. Good. Couldn't have the reporter thinking she knew all the details.

"Then let's go."

#-

They had narrowly avoided the Chinese sub's sensor range. Whether it was coincidence or careful planning that had staged the fight just beyond that radius, Mardukas could only guess. He glanced again at the tactical display, noticing the way Sea Tiger had stopped dead in an attempt to get better readings on her possible aggressors. Renegade, meanwhile, had clearly gotten at least one good read on De Danaan and was attempting to pursue. Beneath his feet, the deck lurched, port side ballast tanks emptying twenty thousand gallons of seawater back into the surrounding ocean. Starboard wasn't matching.

"Bridge to the Captain: is the current state of the starboard ballast tanks intentional?" The only problem with having someone run the ship's systems from the Chapel was that occasionally she forgot to keep the bridge sufficiently informed of her improvisations. The answer flashed across the chair console, and he could almost imagine the apologetic smile that would have accompanied it in person.

It made sense that she was attempting to minimize their horizontal profile – De Danaan was considerably broader than the average submarine, and a couple meters of leeway between the submarine's sides and the Titania's middle and starboard screws amounted to nothing at all in this current. For all it's complete lack of weapons, the mega container ship still had the best chance of destroying them in this scenario. Her massive propellers would tear through the De Danaan's hull like tissue paper, given half a chance. The captain was clearly aware of that.

The starboard tanks began to evacuate at that point, driving the sub towards the surface at an awkward angle. Renegade was approaching at the pace of a vehicle unaware of how close she was coming to a catastrophe – probably at least 10 knots - and on the bridge, those with a view of the tactical display were unconsciously leaning ever so slightly to port. Mardukas would have been amused, except that he found himself doing the same and concentrating on the barely perceptible change in vibration that signaled their own acceleration. He trusted the Captain implicitly, but twenty-eight years of experience had taught him that the only constant at sea was that things could and did go wrong.

Beneath his feet, the deck plating began to shake. He checked unobtrusively to make sure his own seatbelt was secure, and noted that the bridge crew was likewise restrained. Eerie moaning noises echoed through the ship as swirling water pounded the hull in time to the rotation of the ever-closer propellers. He hoped the equipment in the hangar bay would not come loose.

Just then, a loud ping resounded through the cabin.

"Lt. Sylva, how are our British friends doing?" The now considerable shuddering of the deck made his voice less clear than Mardukas cared for, but Sylva had good ears.

"Renegade is still moving on her prior course and speed. But Sea Tiger--" Mardukas smiled, noting the same thing on his tactical display.

"Well, she wanted a target. Nice of the Brits to volunteer." Seconds after the ping had sounded, the Sea Tiger had flooded her forward torpedo tubes and was turning to bring the Renegade into her sites. Mardukas could almost imagine the angry messages being prepared for naval authorities on both sides of the Atlantic. It would have been amusing, were it not for the frantic pressure and turbulence warnings popping up in the engineering portion of the display. "Have either of them noticed us?"

"No indications of that sir," another ping sounded, "although I think the Renegade may not be entirely convinced."

"Bridge to the Captain: estimate thirty seconds before the Renegade confirms two contacts – recommend increasing our speed."

There was no answer on the display, but he felt a slight increase in acceleration and the rattles and screams of tortured hull plating rose in intensity. At the helm, the helmsman went pale as their speed rose to 17 knots, mirroring the Titania. All around, crewmen were holding their breath and praying that their officers knew what they were doing.

A muffled boom echoed from somewhere in the ship.

"Operations to the bridge: minor overpressure on the hull in the main hangar."

"Status?" Even through the noise of the ship's progress, he could hear rushing water over the line.

"The starboard bay door seal can't take the stress. We're taking on water, but it's under control for now. The rest of the seal may be weakening, though."

"Understood. Shore it up however you can: evacuating the hangar is not an option at this time." It was rather harsh, but if the hangar did flood, the change in buoyancy for the ship would effectively destroy their one chance at safety. De Danaan could not afford to drop back out of Titania's shadow, so Mardukas could not afford to be careful with the crew. However. "Bridge to Lt. Commander Kalinin: report to the main hangar. All SRT personnel to assist in damage control."

"Kalinin here, understood." Mardukas didn't bother to acknowledge. Kalinin knew what he was doing, and did not need further instructions. There were very few things the man could not do. It was nice to work with competent colleagues... he just hoped the term of service would last a while.

#-

It hurt. It felt like swimming up stream – if the stream were Niagara Falls. She could feel the water pressure on her skin, the deadly closeness of whirling blades. And she felt weak, so weak – half dead in fact, with her left side almost numb. The water beat her away, away, and she'd never been good at swimming and she'd never been strong in the first place, and the usual feelings of freedom and power wouldn't come in this torrent of buffeting force.

Weak. Weak. I'm going to stumble. I'm going to lose them... NO! I can't stop: I've got to do this. We've got to get to safety, but the pain. I'm not an athlete. The PAIN. I'm not a fighter... She gasped, shoving that line of thought aside. Failure is NOT an option. I will do this. I will do this. She felt the propellers churning at her sides, achingly close.

But I'm just so tired... And fatigue was closing in around her, narrowing her vision. Her mind's connection to the ship was wavering as the ship's stress met her own exhaustion. Just a little more. I just need a little more. If I just hold on a little more – if I only had a little more strength... She reached, without realizing it, grabbed at something and suddenly felt the flow of energy wash over her.

Tessa?

Kaname? The ghostly figure fell into her own, and the girls and the ship strained together against the current. Swimming... They strove for the calm beneath the ship. Twisting... They clung to the margin of safety between the screws. Reaching... They forced energy from the ship through sheer force of will until suddenly,

WE MADE IT! For a moment, all identities merged in the rush of victory, even as the sensation of calmly flowing waters stroked their sides. Then two ghostly shadows faced each other across the sea, and only one looked vaguely like her ship.

I made it too. Kaname smiled. So hang in there, okay?

Of course. They shared a look of equal parts determination and challenge... and perhaps a little friendship. Then the connection ended and Tessa sank back in her chair.

Commander Mardukas, please attach grappling anchors and deploy the operations team to secure the Titania. Tell them to be polite, but it would be very inconvenient if anyone contacted their home company right now. She let her thoughts scroll soundlessly into the message screen. It's time Venserre got to deal with the tough choices.