Uss Saratoga Kancolle Mga Nobela at Kwento

The routing code read SINGAPORE_PORT_AUTHORITY. ​Julian scrolled through the text, his jaw clenching tight as his storm-gray eyes scanned the lines of data. ​CLASSIFICATION: EYES ONLY // CHAIRWOMAN_VANCE-HARRINGTON ORIGIN: DIRECTOR V. CHEN (EAST ASIAN MARITIME ALLIANCE) SUBJECT: UNCOMMISSIONED FLEET MOVEMENTS

He glanced at the rear-view monitors, but the screen was a chaotic mess of static and sapphire sparks—the lingering ghost of Sofia’s departure. "The secondary fleet is scattered! Half of them dipped into the lower thermals to avoid the nets! We’re the only ones high enough to be seen!" Somito replied. Another burst of gunfire rattled the ship. "Nomo, I can't keep them off us forever. These things don't fly like machines; they move like they're alive."

Mine. On Sarah’s panel a second contact blooms, a hot red signature peeling off our position and sinking into the trench, carrying my frequency, my signal, the read of a Sovereign-class source bleeding into the sea. And the hunter-sub turns off its intercept and goes after it, fast, hungry, exactly as designed. But I am watching the red light leave.