The speedboat cuts toward the USS Halsey, its gray hull towering above the water. The destroyer smaller than the tankers, but feel heavier, bristling with weapons systems and sensor arrays.

  Robin reports. "Crew on deck. No weapons visible. Captain waiting at starboard access."

  Hinata confirms. "Forty-three crew aboard. No hostile intent detected. Bridge crew monitoring approach."

  You let a breath out through your nose. “Robin. Hinata. Thank you both for putting up with the repeated search-and-report. Only two more after this. Then we can change things up.”

  There’s a faint warmth as a response, acknowledgment, appreciation.

  You pull alongside. A boarding dder extends down, metal rungs painted regution gray. You climb, boots finding purchase on well-maintained steel.

  A woman in her mid-forties waits at the top. Navy dress whites, commander's insignia on her colr, dark hair pulled back in a regution bun. Her expression is neutral, professional. Her nametag reads 'Commander Patricia Chen.'

  "Brad," she says. Not a question. Her accent carries no regional markers, standard American military.

  "Commander Chen."

  "I watched the tanker enchantments through binocurs," she says, already turning. "Captain Webb briefed me on the process. Bridge is this way."

  You follow. Erza and Hinata take fnking positions without instruction. The destroyer's interior is tighter than the tankers, corridors narrower, everything built for efficiency over comfort.

  The bridge is professional. Modern equipment, multiple screens, four crew members monitoring systems. Commander Chen waves them back from one console.

  "Use that dispy," she says, pointing to a secondary screen mounted on the port console. "Don't touch primary navigation or weapons systems."

  You step closer, eyeing the array of screens. “Just to crify,” you say mildly as you pce your hand on the indicated dispy, “if I lick the others, does that count as touching?”

  A second of silence.

  One junior officer chokes back a sound. Another very deliberately looks away.

  Commander Chen doesn’t blink. “Please don’t test that theory.”

  Golden light blooms beneath your palm as the Interface enchantment activates. You slow the flow deliberately, letting light glow intensify, spreading across the dispy. Through the windows you watch it ripple outward across the destroyer's hull, visible even in te afternoon sun. The effect is more dramatic on the military vessel, light reflecting off sensor arrays and weapons systems.

  One crew member exhales sharply. "Jesus."

  Commander Chen watches without speaking, arms at her sides, expression unreadable.

  The enchantment completes. The destroyer hums faintly, a deeper vibration than the tankers. You step back.

  "Alright. That's done. Full package. Touch the screen to lock it to you."

  Commander Chen steps forward. She pces her hand on the dispy with military precision.

  She stares at the numbers for exactly five seconds. Then pulls her hand back and turns to face you.

  "This changes naval doctrine," she says quietly. "Fuel was the single rgest logistical constraint on destroyer operations. You just eliminated it."

  “That’s just a side effect of saving humanity from dropping back into the Bronze Age next month.”

  Her eyes narrow, not in anger, but calcution. "I've served thirty years. I know what happens when supply chains fail. This prevents a lot of suffering."

  She extends her hand. You shake it. Her grip is firm, controlled.

  "Thank you," she says. "For the Navy. For everyone."

  You nod and turn toward the dder.

  Two more escorts wait, USS Wayne E. Meyer and HMCS Regina.

  The speedboat cuts toward the USS Wayne E. Meyer, the destroyer's gray hull rising against the te afternoon sun.

  Robin's voice crosses the Telepathy Web, calm and precise. "Crew on deck. No weapons visible. Captain waiting starboard side."

  Hinata confirms. "Thirty-eight crew aboard. No hostile intent. Bridge crew monitoring approach."

  You pull alongside. The boarding dder extends, metal rungs painted regution gray. You climb, boots finding purchase on well-maintained steel.

  A man in his early fifties waits at the top. Navy dress whites, commander's insignia on his colr, weathered face that suggests decades at sea. Salt-and-pepper hair cut to regution length. His nametag reads 'Commander James Mitchell.'

  "Brad," he states. His accent carries a simple drag.

  "Commander Mitchell."

  "Watched all five enchantments," he says, already turning. "Captain Chen radioed ahead. Bridge is ready."

  You follow. Erza and Hinata fnk without instruction. The destroyer's corridors are tight, efficient, built for function over comfort.

  The bridge is professional. Modern equipment, multiple screens, five crew members monitoring systems. Commander Mitchell waves them back from one console.

  "Use that dispy," he says, pointing to a secondary screen on the starboard console. "Primary systems stay locked."

  You move to the screen and pce your hand on it. The Interface enchantment activates. You slow the process deliberately, letting golden light build from your palm.

  The glow intensifies, spreading across the dispy. Through the windows you watch it ripple outward across the destroyer's hull, reflecting off sensor arrays and weapons systems in the fading afternoon light.

  One crew member exhales. "Holy... this is cool."

  Commander Mitchell watches with crossed arms, expression calcuting.

  The enchantment completes. The destroyer hums faintly, deeper than the tankers. You step back.

  "Done. Full advanced package. Touch the screen."

  Commander Mitchell steps forward. He pces his hand on the dispy with military precision.

  He stares at the numbers for exactly six seconds. Then pulls his hand back.

  "I was carrier operations before this command," he says quietly. "Twelve years coordinating flight schedules around fuel avaibility. You just made that entire discipline obsolete."

  He turns to face you directly. "How many ships can you enchant?"

  "They're self sustaining so, as many as accept it." you say. "The network shares mana. Every ship I enchant makes the next one easier."

  He studies you for five seconds. "You're building infrastructure faster than governments can respond."

  “What governments?” you ask. “Most of them colpsed.”You pause. “Wait for the video. It goes out tonight. It expins what comes next.”

  He hesitates a moment, then extends his hand. You shake it. His grip is firm, controlled.

  "Thank you," he says. "For the Navy. For everyone who depends on us."

  You nod and turn toward the dder.

  One escort remains, HMCS Regina.

  Back at the speedboat, you settle into position. Rika speaks while pulling away from the Wayne E. Meyer.

  "Last one. Canadian frigate. Commander David Fraser commanding. He's been watching closely."

  “Yay,” you ftly respond, telepathically to the group. “I expected traps. politics. hostage attempts... After the first wave this turned routine. No probes. No attacks. That’s starting to bother me.”

  Albedo answers. “Agreed. Silence at this scale is a decision, not an absence. Rational actors wait when the cost of being wrong is annihition.”

  Robin speaks after a brief pause. “In colpses like this, the first response is always watching. The second is copying. Violence comes st.”

  Rika says, matter-of-fact. “No one tests something they don’t understand yet. Not unless they’re desperate.”

  The speedboat cuts toward the HMCS Regina, the Canadian frigate’s gray hull smaller than the destroyers but bristling with sensor arrays.

  Robin’s voice enters the Web. “Six crew visible. No weapons. Captain waiting starboard side.”

  Hinata confirms. “Thirty-five crew aboard. No hostile intent. Bridge crew monitoring approach.”

  You pull alongside. The boarding dder extends, rope and metal hybrid construction. You climb, boots finding purchase on the well-maintained rungs.

  Commander David Fraser, mid-forties, stands at the top in Canadian Navy dress whites. His short brown hair is wind-tousled, his eyes sharp from years in the Arctic. Nametag: 'Commander David Fraser'.

  “Brad,” he says, tone neutral but firm.

  “Commander Fraser,” you reply.

  “I’ve been watching the previous enchantments. Captain Chen and Commander Mitchell radioed ahead. Bridge is ready.”

  You follow inside. Erza and Hinata fnk without instruction. The frigate’s corridors are tighter than the destroyers’, optimized for efficiency and Arctic operations.

  The bridge is compact but modern. Four crew monitor screens showing fuel reserves at 11%. Fraser waves them back from the port console.

  “Use that dispy,” he says. “Primary systems stay locked.”

  You pce your hand on the screen. The Interface enchantment hums to life, golden light creeping outward. You slow the activation deliberately, letting the glow build as it spreads across the hull and sensor arrays.

  A single crew member exhales, quietly impressed.

  Fraser studies the dispy, arms crossed, expression thoughtful. The hum deepens.

  “Fuel was the leash,” he mutters. “We’ve been arguing that in Ottawa for a decade. I never thought I’d see it broken like this.”

  “Not, just broken...” you reply after a moment. “I'll be honest, I forgot about the Northern fuel difficulties... lets fix that.”

  Fraser frowns slightly. “Meaning...?”

  You reach for your radio. “Webb, come in. I need reroute instructions cleared.”

  Static crackles, then Commander Webb’s voice responds crisply. “Brad, go ahead. Situation report?”

  “Fraser’s frigate is fully enchanted,” you say. “We have an extra escort from the previous wave. Suggest rerouting north to act as a North Pacific fuel source. He’ll be able to generate equivalent mana to the tankers, but capacity management will be critical.”

  “Understood,” Webb replies. “Rey instructions through proper channels. He needs specifics on offloading and network support. Ensure he understands distribution limitations and redundancy.”

  You step to the bridge radio. “Commander Fraser, instructions from Commander Webb. You’re being rerouted north. Your frigate will act as a mobile fuel source in the North Pacific.”

  Fraser tilts his head. “North Pacific... alone?”

  “Not entirely,” you answer. “You can technically produce the same as a tanker, but you don't have the tank capacity, You’ll need to offload frequently or coordinate with multiple other ships. Think of yourself as a self-filling small gas can. Hook up to a tanker whenever possible. Redundant supply will keep the network stable.”

  He nods, brow furrowed in concentration. “Practical logistics, I can work with that. Keep northern supply lines viable. Redundant nodes... yes, makes sense. Crew will adapt.”

  “Sounds right,” you confirm. “The extra escort from the previous wave will provide the tanker and escort ratio. Your operations will set the pattern for lighter, northern supply management.”

  Fraser exhales, a rare half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Arctic fuel logistics, now magical. Never thought I’d see the day.”

  The glow fades completely. Outside, the te afternoon sun glints off the gray hull. No crew gasps this time, no awe, just quiet recognition of the change. Fraser begins issuing orders to his crew with brisk efficiency, already pnning rotation, offload points, and mana flow checks.

  You step back. The st frigate of the day is fully operational, ready to augment the North Pacific network.

  Back on the speedboat, Rika pulls them away. “Fifteenth vessel complete. Everyone’s operational.”

  You check your phone. 5:32pm. The sun is dipping toward the horizon.

  You gnce at the horizon, the sun lowering toward the waterline. Boredom and relief mix, you’re physically untouched by the work, but the monotony was unexpected.

  Through the radio, you contact Commander Webb. “Fraser’s frigate is rerouted north. He’ll act as a North Pacific mana source. I’ve warned him he’ll need to offload frequently or share with other ships. Recommend hooking to a tanker when possible.”

  Webb’s calm voice replies, precise. “Acknowledged. Will monitor offload windows.”

  As you steer the speedboat, the USS Portnd comes into view. From the well dock, two LARCs are already emerging, maneuvering carefully into the water with the high-end Eureka cargo secured. Engines hum softly, the water sparkling in the fading sunlight.

  The flotil naturally falls in line behind you, LARCs and escort craft aligning with the speedboat’s wake. The sight is a quiet reassurance: despite the repetitive, almost mechanical nature of each ships enchantments, the network of enchanted vessels is now fully active, and the logistical chain is already flowing toward its next stage.

  “Looks like everyone’s following orders,” Rika comments with a small smile, eyes on the LARCs.

  You nod, gncing at your team, Albedo, Nova, Hinata, Rika, Erza, Robin, all silently acknowledging the moment. The sun dips lower, painting the water golden as the convoy moves toward Portnd’s offloading point, the next phase of the day’s work quietly beginning.

  You settle onto the bench beside Albedo, the speedboat slicing through the water with a steady, silent hum. The two RIBs hold formation at a respectful distance, water churring as they fight to keep pace. Behind them the LARCs lumber along, heavy wakes rolling outward like slow-motion thunder.

  "Raise your dress," you say quietly, voice pitched just for her. "Spread a leg over my p."

  Albedo's golden eyes fsh with immediate understanding. She shifts smoothly, gathering the eborate bck-and-white fabric and draping one pale, toned thigh across your leg. The motion parts the skirt enough to expose the delicate white ce of her panties, though the angle and the high bench back keep it shielded from casual view by anyone ahead or behind.

  You wrap your left arm around the back of her neck, fingers curling firmly around the smooth base of her left horn. The contact makes her breath hitch. You pull her forward into a deep kiss, tongue sliding past her lips to cim her mouth with slow, deliberate strokes. She opens for you instantly, soft and eager, small sounds vibrating against your tongue.

  Your right hand traces up the inside of her thigh, fingertips dragging across impossibly smooth skin until they reach the ce edge. You hook the fabric aside and find her already slick, folds swollen and hot.

  Across the telepathy web you project your voice, carefully 'accidental', loud enough for the boat group to hear without broadcasting to the entire network. "I gave My Albedo an order, and she chose to twist that order for my protection. I punished her disobedience by pying with her beautiful breasts for eight minutes. Now I'm going to reward her loyalty by spending these same eight minutes pleasuring her beautiful lips."

  Your fingers slide between her folds on the word "lips," two digits gliding along her slit before pressing inside. Albedo moans into your mouth, the sound muffled by the kiss. Her hips roll forward in a tiny, helpless motion, pussy clenching around your fingers as you curl them upward, finding that sensitive ridge inside her.

  She breaks the kiss to gasp against your neck. You immediately pull her back, mouth ciming hers again, swallowing every soft whimper. Your thumb finds her clit and begins slow, firm circles while your fingers pump steadily, curling on each inward stroke. Her inner walls flutter, slick heat coating your hand.

  From the helm Rika keeps her eyes forward, but every few seconds her head tilts slightly, enough to catch the motion of Albedo's thigh draped over your p, the rhythmic flex of your forearm disappearing beneath the skirt. She doesn't stare, doesn't react outwardly, but the corner of her mouth twitches once in faint, knowing amusement before she returns her focus to the water.

  Robin, in the port trailing RIB, lounges against the console with one elbow propped on the gunwale. Her dark eyes flick toward your boat just long enough to register the angle of Albedo's body, the subtle rocking of her hips, the way your shoulder shifts with each deliberate thrust of your hand. She doesn't smile, doesn't look away immediately. She simply notes it, then turns her gaze back to the coastline, one eyebrow lifted in quiet acknowledgment.

  Hinata, beside Erza in the starboard trailing RIB, keeps perfect focus on the water ahead. Her posture never changes. But the tips of her ears turn steadily pinker, and every few seconds her fingers tighten on the throttle grip. She doesn't need the Byakugan to understand why Albedo's breathing has taken on that particur ragged rhythm.

  Erza and Nova, positioned farther back in their respective RIBs, see only the surface: your arm wrapped around Albedo's shoulders, her head tilted into the kiss, bodies close and angled toward each other. Nothing more. Their line of sight doesn't allow them to catch the hidden motions beneath the skirt.

  You deepen the kiss, tongue stroking hers in time with your fingers. Albedo trembles harder now, thighs quivering along your wrist, pussy fluttering in tight, desperate pulses. You add a third finger, stretching her gently, thumb pressing harder against her clit in relentless circles.

  She breaks the kiss to bury her face against your neck, muffling a sharp cry as her orgasm hits. Her walls cmp down hard, rhythmic spasms milking your fingers while her hips jerk in small, helpless motions. You keep the pressure steady through every wave, drawing it out until she slumps against you, trembling, breath coming in soft, shattered pants.

  You ease your fingers free slowly, letting her feel every bit of withdrawal. She shivers again at the loss. You bring your hand to your mouth, tasting her on your skin while she watches with heavy-lidded eyes.

  "Was your punishment and reward fitting?" you ask quietly.

  Albedo straightens with visible effort, cheeks flushed, lips swollen from kissing. "Yes, my lord," she says, voice still unsteady but rich with satisfaction. "Both were... perfectly appropriate. Thank you for crifying my pce through action rather than simply words."

  Rika throttles back as the dock approaches. You gently correct Albedo's panties back into pce, withdrawing your hand slowly along her thigh. letting her lower her leg and smooth her dress back into perfect order. The fabric falls neatly, hiding every trace of what just happened.

  Robin and Nova tie off their RIB beside you. Erza and Hinata secure theirs a moment ter. The LARCs lumber in behind, engines rumbling down as Navy crews prepare to offload.

  You step onto the dock first, offering Albedo your hand. She takes it, wings folding neatly as she follows. Rika slings her rifle and jumps across next. Hinata disembarks with quiet grace, vender eyes flicking once toward Albedo, before she looks away again.

  SnafuSam