Watching from a bird’s-eye view as Sirius frantically tried to hurry back to her room without dropping a tea set for two—and a plate of snacks meant for Ulyanovsk—turned out to be highly entertaining.
The girl’s impressive bust clearly hindered her ability to look at her own feet, causing her to constantly trip over seemingly level pavement.
Yet, displaying literal acrobatic mastery, she somehow managed to regain her balance every single time and press on…
right until the next invisible pothole.
“Looks like we have very different definitions of dinner,” the aviation cruiser muttered, zooming the scout plane’s optics onto the pastries on the platter.
“Or someone decided to keep this visit a secret, skipping the heavy meals but grabbing two mugs anyway.
And that definitely didn’t go unnoticed…” Trailing Sirius at a respectful distance was another maid.
She made absolutely zero effort to hide, but she moved with such fluid elegance—expertly using cover and maintaining the perfect distance—that Ulyanovsk couldn’t help but wonder if she was an actual spy.
She wore a uniform similar in cut to Sirius’s, though her blue skirt was significantly longer, falling past her knees.
A corset pushed up a rather generous chest, making it appear slightly larger, though it still lost out in sheer volume to the maid she was tailing.
But her looks weren’t what caught his attention.
Ulyanovsk’s gut instincts practically screamed that his scout plane was tracking an elite-tier hostile unit.
It was a bizarre sensation.
Neither Formidable nor Shinano had triggered this threat response, despite the sheer power they had demonstrated.
Even Neptune, armed with her massive halberd, had only registered as a minor nuisance on his internal threat assessment.
The second Sirius disappeared into the residential building, the mysterious pursuer picked up her pace, moving with an eerie, predatory grace.
If Ulyanovsk hadn’t been tracking her from the start, he easily would have mistaken her for just another random maid strolling through the base.
Killing the drone’s feed, the guy looked out the actual bedroom window just as the pursuer walked right under it.
Sensing the foreign gaze, she looked up.
Meeting her amethyst eyes, Ulyanovsk felt a sudden, uncharacteristic surge of playfulness and winked at the girl.
If a confrontation with the locals was inevitable, he preferred to orchestrate it on his own terms.
Worst-case scenario, his drone still carried a pair of Kh-29 air-to-surface missiles on its internal hardpoints—more than enough firepower to neutralize a maid classifying as a light cruiser.
The pursuer furrowed her brow thoughtfully and quickened her pace.
Judging by the radar blips, she had kicked her turbines into overdrive to catch up to Sirius.
Stepping away from the window, the aviation cruiser moved closer to the open wardrobe and waited.
“Sorry for the wait!” Sirius managed to blurt out as she rushed into the room, right before her foot caught the door threshold.
Apparently, the Kansen’s luck had completely run dry.
She pitched forward, releasing the heavy tray.
Robbed of its support, the silver platter launched into the air, the teacups rattling menacingly.
But before they could even drop a few inches, two hands clad in elbow-length white-and-blue gloves materialized behind Sirius, effortlessly snatching the tray out of the air.
Ulyanovsk kept the owner of the room from faceplanting by lunging forward and yanking her toward himself.
Standing a bewildered Sirius on her feet beside him, he looked at the newly arrived maid, who casually set the tray down on the center table like she owned the place.
[image here] “M-Ma’am?!” Sirius squeaked in sheer terror, her eyes darting frantically between the guy and her boss.
“Far too many cups for a solo snack,” the newcomer smiled softly, her eyes locked dead onto the aviation cruiser.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your guest?” Sirius flinched, shooting a guilty look at Ulyanovsk, who was still holding her shoulder.
He gave her an approving nod, gently nudging her toward her colleague.
“Ma’am,” Sirius straightened her back proudly, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles in her skirt.
“Allow me to introduce the one who aided me when I found myself stranded far from base, and…” she stammered, desperately trying to find a short way to explain the phenomenon of interdimensional travel.
“Relax,” the second maid said with genuine warmth.
“No one is going to reprimand you for what happened.
I must apologize for Sirius,” she addressed Ulyanovsk.
“The poor girl gets a bit too nervous sometimes.” “I think someone just spooked her,” the aviation cruiser smirked.
“Wonder who that could be…” “How rude,” the maid chuckled softly.
“My name is Belfast.
And as the Head Maid of Her Majesty’s Fleet, I wish to thank you for not abandoning Sirius in her time of need,” she offered an elegant, flawless curtsy.
“Naval regulations of the Soviet Union and the Russian Federation mandate rendering assistance to any vessel in distress, regardless of the flag they fly,” the guy replied crisply.
“Aviation Cruiser Ulyanovsk.
A pleasure.” “Believe me, the pleasure is entirely mine,” Belfast smiled warmly.
“I am delighted to finally meet the man responsible for Sirius being constantly deployed to the freezing northern seas.
Would you mind if I joined you for tea?” “But…” Sirius started, quickly scanning the tray she had brought.
“There aren’t enough cups…
I’ll be right back!” she cheered enthusiastically, pivoting toward the door.
“That won’t be necessary,” Belfast only managed to say before her subordinate’s foot caught a fold in the rug.
Ulyanovsk watched Sirius’s fall in what felt like slow motion.
In a desperate attempt to break her fall, the girl reached out, blindly grasping for balance.
Belfast, torn between the desire to help her subordinate and the agonizing knowledge of what her clumsiness usually led to, hesitated for a split second too long as she tried to step back.
Searching for an anchor, Sirius’s hand hooked directly onto the top of Belfast’s dress.
Instinctively, the Head Maid tried to hold her ground, but instead of stopping the fall, the Kansen’s dead weight yanked the fabric straight down.
Slowly, like an inevitable avalanche, the bodice began sliding off Belfast’s chest.
It paused for a fraction of a second, catching on resistance, but the falling mass of a light cruiser ultimately proved too heavy.
“Ah!” Belfast gasped in shock, her face flushing crimson.
Losing its hopeless battle against gravity, the top finally gave way and slid down, offering the world the treasure it had been concealing.
Two full, heavy hemispheres, crowned with rose-pink nipples, sprang free from captivity and presented themselves to Ulyanovsk in their full, unambiguous glory.
Sirius, having lost her final ghostly chance at salvation, hit the floor with a loud thud, sprawling out like a starfish.
“Sirius, you are absolutely flawless,” Ulyanovsk sighed, covering his eyes with his palm.
Seizing the moment, Belfast swiftly spun around to fix her dress.
“Did you see?” she asked, shooting him a sly glance over her shoulder.
“Nice chain,” the guy said, lowering his hand.
The accessory she wore was impossible to miss.
A thick, heavy metal chain attached to a steel collar—looking more like industrial mooring equipment than a piece of jewelry.
“Is that all?” Belfast arched a questioning eyebrow.
“Not quite,” Ulyanovsk offered a wicked smirk.
“What a curious reaction,” the Kansen mirrored his smirk perfectly.
Sirius, whimpering quietly, carefully pushed herself up onto her knees, rubbing her forehead.
“Let’s fix this,” the aviation cruiser theatrically spit on his palms, rubbed them together, and took a step toward the girls.
Belfast whipped around—accidentally whacking the kneeling Sirius with her skirt—fully prepared to intercept whatever physical advances the interdimensional guest was about to make.
However, he completely ignored the Head Maid, reaching down to pull the fallen Kansen to her feet.
“Head in one piece?” Ulyanovsk asked, quickly scanning Sirius for any visible damage.
“Mmm?” blinking rapidly, she focused her gaze on the aviation cruiser.
“Everything’s fine, I just got a little disoriented,” she hurried to answer.
“I apologize for the disturbance.” “Sirius, sit down,” Belfast commanded in a tone that brokered zero argument, pulling a chair out from the table.
“But I need to bring the missing tea set…” the red-eyed maid tried to protest weakly.
“Sit,” Ulyanovsk repeated, gently pushing her into the chair.
“Thank you,” Belfast nodded at the aviation cruiser, before casually pulling a small silver whistle from her cleavage.
The guy shook his head in irritation as she deliberately, agonizingly slowly placed it between her lips, keeping her eyes locked on him the entire time.
A sharp, piercing trill echoed through the room.
Footsteps—or rather, the soft slapping of webbed feet against parquet—rapidly approached from the hallway.
A few seconds later, walking through the door, was…
A massive, practically perfectly spherical yellow chick wearing a black tuxedo.
Ulyanovsk instinctively rubbed his eyes, praying it was a hallucination, but the creature didn’t disappear.
“A tea set for three, with light snacks,” Belfast ordered, handing the tray Sirius had dropped to the bird.
“And make it quick, Sebastian.
Be a dear.” The giant chick attempted to execute a bow—which looked utterly ridiculous given its spherical shape—and waddled out of the room with an air of absolute self-importance.
“That is a Manjuu,” Belfast explained, interpreting the sheer bewilderment on the aviation cruiser’s face.
“Helper spirits…” “Sirius told me about them,” Ulyanovsk cut her off.
“I’m just wondering…
do you guys fatten this ‘Sebastian’ up for slaughter or something?” “Manjuu butlers are slightly larger than their brethren,” Sirius answered.
“So it’s easier for them to perform their duties.” “Which you could have summoned yourself, instead of hiking all the way to the kitchen,” Belfast gently ruffled the hair on her subordinate’s head.
“Are you absolutely sure you are alright?” “Yes,” Sirius nodded firmly.
“Does she always fall like that?” Ulyanovsk asked for clarification.
The Kansen lowered her gaze.
“Sometimes,” the Head Maid answered evasively.
The topic of discussion just let out a sad sigh.
“Rarely, but with maximum collateral damage.
Got it,” the aviation cruiser summarized, pulling out a chair for Belfast.
“Restrained and well-mannered,” she noted, giving him an approving nod as she sat.
“Thank you.
Sebastian will return shortly.” “I’ve got to say, your calm reaction to this entire situation surprises me,” Ulyanovsk said, taking the seat opposite the girls, keeping his back to the wardrobe.
“You aren’t hostile, and we have experience dealing with representatives of other worlds,” Sirius reminded him.
“True, though our guests are usually under attack by the Sirens in some form or another,” Belfast added.
“A common enemy brings people together, as they say.
However, meeting a world untouched by that conflict is a first for us.” “Untouched is putting it mildly.” Receiving the “all-clear” ping from his recon drone, Ulyanovsk issued the recall command.
“We just have slightly different enemies.” “I’ve read Sirius and Neptune’s reports,” the Head Maid said, glancing at the open wardrobe.
“Though I had to exert some effort to acquire them.
Which is strange, considering my girls are usually the ones preparing the diplomatic briefings.” “I take it you don’t know about Formidable, then?” “Lady Formidable’s unique abilities make her far better suited to investigate a portal’s origin than anyone from the Maid Corps,” Sirius chimed in.
“Better her than the Iron Bloods,” the girl added quietly.
“Now, now, don’t be angry with Leipzig,” Belfast smiled, winking at her subordinate.
“But Sirius is right.
Although I have absolutely no doubt that Formidable’s reports are heavily censored.
Which is exactly why I decided to tail her,” she nodded at Sirius, “when I bumped into her near the kitchen.
I was hoping to finally meet you.” “Now the only question left is—why?” Ulyanovsk couldn’t help but cough into his fist as he watched through his drone’s optics.
The tuxedo-wearing Manjuu was marching back to the building, balancing an impossibly massive tray on its wings.
Despite its size and the cargo that practically matched its body weight, the bird was moving incredibly fast.
The drone, which had started to descend, immediately pulled up and gained altitude upon its host’s command.
The guy wanted to be absolutely certain they weren’t being tailed again.
“As I said: to thank you for taking care of Sirius.
Secondly—you can consider this establishing diplomatic relations, so to speak,” the Kansen’s amethyst eyes locked onto the aviation cruiser with a level of seriousness hard to expect from a flirtatiously dressed maid.
“After all, this is the Royal Navy’s first encounter with a stably functioning portal.” The slapping of bird feet grew louder in the hallway.
A final sweep of the building confirmed no new uninvited guests were approaching, and with a clear conscience, the aviation cruiser gave the drone the green light to descend.
“The stability of this portal is highly debatable,” Ulyanovsk reminded her.
“Nevertheless, it is capable of opening and closing.
Siren interdimensional portals usually collapse permanently the moment the device sustaining them is destroyed,” Belfast explained.
“What’s the point of one faction in a conflict opening a portal to a third, actively hostile faction?” “We do not know the Sirens’ motives,” Sirius sighed.
“Even after all these years of war…” “Would you be so kind,” the senior Kansen addressed her, nodding at the Manjuu entering the room.
The short-haired Shipgirl obediently stood up and began setting the table.
“Can she handle it?” the guy whispered, ensuring Sirius couldn’t hear him.
“She can,” Belfast answered confidently, keeping a close, watchful eye on the girl.
“Excuse me,” Ulyanovsk abruptly raised his hand in the air the moment the last plate hit the table.
In a flash, a tiny comet flew through the open window, transforming mid-air into a small plastic card.
The aviation cruiser snatched it effortlessly and tucked it into his breast pocket.
“Just a habit of keeping a combat air patrol up when visiting an unfamiliar port,” he explained in response to their bewildered looks.
“I hope that won’t be a problem?” “No,” Belfast shook her head.
“But the size of that was far too small for an aircraft…” “As Sirius and I established,” Ulyanovsk said, thanking the girl for his tea with a nod.
“The operational principles of our Shipgirls—Kanmusu, as we call them—differ significantly from yours.” To prove his point, he materialized a search-and-rescue Ka-27 helicopter on his open palm.
Spinning its rotors, the chopper lifted off and buzzed over to the plate of pastries.
Hovering above it, the machine quickly snagged a raspberry jam biscuit with its winch and airlifted it directly onto the saucer in front of its host.
“Like this,” Ulyanovsk said, dismissing the helicopter sprite.
“Your table manners, however, leave much to be desired,” Belfast shook her head, failing to hide a smile.
“I’m from a tribe of northern barbarians, I get a pass,” the aviation cruiser waved it off.
“But we didn’t gather here to discuss my etiquette, did we?” “Indeed,” the girl agreed.
“As Sirius told me, between your increasingly frequent escort and patrol missions, the enemies our Kansen face differ vastly.
Care to elaborate?” “Diving straight into the enemy?” Ulyanovsk smirked.
Waiting until his conversationalist brought her teacup to her lips, he clarified: “What happened to meaningless small talk about the weather, asking how my day was, and all that?” Belfast didn’t take the bait.
Calmly setting her cup down, she squinted slyly at the guy.
“I believe we bypassed that stage quite recently,” the Kansen said.
Ulyanovsk recalled the slipping top and involuntarily shot a glance at Sirius, who was currently silently hypnotizing her tea.
“What?” she asked, feeling the guy’s gaze.
“Just remembering our first meeting,” the aviation cruiser answered.
Ignoring Sirius—who was turning completely red again—and the highly curious look from the second Kansen, he took a sip from his mug.
The fragrant aroma and rich taste of the tea brewed by the residents of another dimension absolutely crushed almost everything Ulyanovsk had ever tasted.
However, the herbal blends brewed by a certain warrant officer descended from Yakut shamans still held the top spot on his podium.
“I presume that introduction involved a fall?” Belfast inquired.
“I still can’t fathom how anyone could get that tangled up in their own clothes,” Ulyanovsk nodded.
The Head Maid arched a questioning eyebrow.
Instead of answering, the aviation cruiser simply raised his teacup in a silent toast to Sirius.
“Please, don’t remind me,” the victim pleaded.
“As amusing as the incidents involving my subordinate’s clumsiness are, I would still very much like an answer to my question,” Belfast smoothly hooked a pastry with her dessert fork, transferring it to her saucer.
“Well, if you insist…” Ulyanovsk sighed.
“It’s a pity I can’t show you the photographs…” “And why is that?” the senior Kansen asked, scooping a strawberry off the pastry and taking a tiny bite.
“Sirius had a very violent reaction to it, so I’d rather refrain from a repeat performance.” “They look identical to what we encountered during the battle at the Diamond Islands,” Sirius explained in response to her boss’s questioning look.
“The exact same feelings and emotions…” she shivered, focusing entirely on her pastry in a desperate attempt to distract herself.
“From a single photograph?” Belfast turned to the guy.
“A picture of a totally generic grunt destroyer, the kind no one even bothers to count.
Cannon fodder, basically.
Though underestimating these giant whales with guns fused into their bodies is extremely dangerous,” Ulyanovsk explained.
“They’re the lowest caste of the Abyssal Fleet.
The higher-tier species ruling over them use standard naval classifications for ease of identification: Destroyer, Cruiser, and so on.
And generally, the closer a unit is to a capital-class ship, the smarter and far more cunning they become.” “Hence the manifestation of anthropomorphic incarnations of past warships,” the maid concluded after finishing the berries on her dessert.
“Pretty much,” the aviation cruiser confirmed.
“Plus, deploying a Kanmusu is infinitely cheaper than wasting massive resources utilizing conventional weaponry.
Normal guided munitions either struggle to hit a target that small and agile, or they’re prohibitively expensive.
In some cases, it’s outright dangerous for the defenders to use them.” Ulyanovsk shuddered, recalling the bombardment of the Faroe Islands during the early years of the invasion.
They managed to wipe out the pack dug in there, but the island kingdom’s unsanctioned fireworks display had nearly triggered a total nervous breakdown in the world’s nuclear launch silos.
The planet had teetered on the very edge of the abyss.
“However, I’m equally interested in the reason for your manifestation,” he pointed his fork at the maids.
“From what Sirius said, you guys are actually fighting full-sized warships.” “The mass-produced Siren combat units aren’t the problem, those are easily dealt with,” the Head Maid took a sip of tea.
“And our full-sized hulls handle that task perfectly.
The real difficulties begin when the humanoid units enter the fray…” she started, but trailed off.
While Belfast tapped her finger thoughtfully against the table, Ulyanovsk didn’t deny himself the pleasure of enjoying the sweets.
Visually, the pastries looked exactly like the ones sold in the military base’s commissary, but there was something incredibly special about them.
Even the plain eclair literally melted in his mouth.
“Care to share the recipe?” the aviation cruiser leaned over and whispered to Sirius.
“That’s classified information,” the girl whispered back, hiding a smile behind her mug.
“Oh, come on!” the guy feigned outrage.
“It truly is classified information,” Belfast smiled.
“However, I can answer any other question that doesn’t concern the pride of Her Majesty’s Fleet.” “Literally any question?” Ulyanovsk asked, side-eying the pastries.
“Any question,” Belfast gave him a playful wink, her smile never fading.
“Then please, be so kind as to explain the full-sized hulls to me,” the aviation cruiser requested, flashing a victorious smirk as he watched the maid’s smile instantly wilt.
Next to him, Sirius choked on her tea.
“Are you absolutely certain that is what you wish to know?” Belfast quickly composed herself, crossing her arms on the table and leaning forward slightly.
The movement deliberately emphasized her chest—squeezed from both sides by her arms—threatening to pop out of her top entirely without any external help.
For a split second, the aviation cruiser’s gaze slipped downward, and the recent image of two snow-white hills flashed vividly before his eyes.
“Tell me,” Ulyanovsk put his fork down, actively trying to stabilize his reactor outputs.
“Do I look like a high schooler peaking on puberty hormones?” he asked, steepling his fingers in front of him.
“Please, calm down,” Sirius pleaded pitifully, her eyes darting between Belfast and the guy.
Smiling at the girl, the aviation cruiser continued: “I was under the impression I was speaking with a highly qualified combat unit.
Was I mistaken?” Belfast drilled the guy with a hard stare for a few seconds.
It was the first time both her feminine pride and her professional competence as Head Maid had been so blatantly questioned.
“Please forgive me for my overly harsh judgment regarding your character,” the Kansen moved to defuse the conflict, leaning back in her chair.
“It was a mistake on my part to apply my past experiences with male officers to my subordinate’s guest.” “Glad we understand each other,” Ulyanovsk smiled appreciatively.
“Unfortunately, I can totally understand your attitude toward my…
brethren, considering the stories I’ve heard from my own side of the pond.
But let’s return to the topic of historical hull sizes…” “I believe it would be easier to demonstrate by example rather than explaining it with words.
I highly doubt you have the capability to manifest a light cruiser in the open sea,” Belfast tilted her head, tapping her teaspoon against her cup handle.
“Only if you want to take a salvo of anti-ship missiles to the broadside,” the aviation cruiser confirmed.
“I will need some time to prepare a safe area for the demonstration,” the Kansen continued, shifting her gaze to her subordinate.
“I will do everything in my power to relieve Sirius of her long-range patrol duties.
We can maintain contact through her.” “I won’t let you down!” the girl nodded happily.
“What’s the catch?” Knowing perfectly well that no one demonstrated classified capabilities for free, Ulyanovsk wanted the price tag upfront.
“It will be enough if you agree to mutually beneficial participation in upcoming maneuvers,” Belfast steepled her own fingers, looking at the guy with keen interest.
“How does that sound?” “More than acceptable, provided we mutually respect state secrets,” the aviation cruiser agreed to the terms.
“Splendid,” the Kansen brightened up.
“I will need two to three days to prepare.
For you, that translates to…” “One day,” the guy answered for the Head Maid, recalling Formidable’s time-dilation theory.
“I would also like to ask you to bring the materials detailing the Abyssal Fleet that you showed Sirius,” the Head Maid requested.
“Ma’am, maybe we shouldn’t?” Sirius timidly objected.
“I’m inclined to agree with her,” Ulyanovsk chimed in, snatching the last eclair for himself, earning a disgruntled sigh from Sirius.
“Not the best idea, considering her reaction to the photographs.
Wouldn’t schematic drawings be safer?” “If it isn’t too much trouble, could you bring both?” “I think,” the aviation cruiser paused, calculating the time required to prep the files, “that’s doable,” he sliced his eclair in half and handed a piece to Sirius.
“Thank you!” the girl cheered up instantly.
“Excellent,” Belfast smiled.
“For my part, I will prepare equivalent materials on the Sirens.” “I’ll handle the exchange!” Sirius volunteered.
“I would be grateful,” the Head Maid nodded.
“Do we have a deal?” she addressed the aviation cruiser.
“It’s a deal,” he confirmed.
“It’ll be highly beneficial to learn about a potential enemy capable of interdimensional travel.” “As it will be for us to learn of yours,” Belfast agreed.
Assessing the empty pastry plates, she pulled her whistle back out of her cleavage.
“Sebastian, be a dear and bring more snacks.” Sirius bashfully covered her mouth with her hand.
The giant bird cooed something in response—sounding highly disgruntled, in Ulyanovsk’s opinion—and waddled back toward the kitchen.