Chapter 1: The Silent Threat

“Get lost, weakling! We don’t need a crying princess on the battlefield!”

The words cut through the rumble of the USS Vigilant’s engines like a knife. Laughter erupted from the sailors, rough and unrestrained, echoing off the steel walls of the docking bay. A few crates thudded onto the deck with a metallic clang, but no sound could drown out their mocking voices.

Petty Officer Ava Blake remained still, her soft frame dwarfed by the towering men around her. Her uniform was clean, unadorned — no medals, no flashy insignia. To the untrained eye, she was just another junior sailor, another newcomer who would soon learn her place. She folded her hands neatly behind her back and lowered her eyes, her face calm, almost serene, as if she were trying to disappear into the chaos around her.

“Look at her!” one of the deckhands said, nudging his friend with a thick, calloused elbow. “Another delicate flower we’re supposed to babysit.”

The men erupted into another round of laughter. One stepped forward, towering over Ava. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? You gonna cry when you smell gunpowder?”

Another chimed in, voice dripping with sarcasm: “This isn’t a Disney cruise — go home before you break a nail!”

The mockery rolled across the deck like a wave, loud and unrelenting. A few sailors snorted into their sleeves, amused at the idea that a petite woman could withstand the rigors of deployment day.

Ava didn’t respond. Not a word, not a flinch. She simply shifted her weight, a subtle movement almost invisible to the untrained eye. But Chief Warrant Officer Ramirez, a veteran of countless operations, noticed.

Ramirez froze mid-step. His eyes narrowed, scanning her boots — something wasn’t right. Standard issue Navy boots bore no distinguishing marks, yet hers carried an almost invisible serial code etched along the side, faint enough to be missed unless one was looking for it. His gaze drifted upwards, catching a glint of fabric on her wrist. A strip of material concealed a tattoo, a symbol so rare it was only referenced in classified files.

His breath hitched. The clipboard in his hands slipped and clattered onto the deck.

Ava’s head lifted slightly, and for the first time, she allowed a flicker of awareness into her eyes. Calm, controlled, and unsettlingly precise, her gaze swept over the three burly deckhands. The laughter faltered, a subtle shift in the air, unnoticed by everyone but Ramirez.

“You… you’re—” Ramirez began, but his words caught in his throat. He wanted to warn them, to scream, to stop the disaster he already knew was coming.

“Who’s gonna cry now?” Ava murmured, her voice low and controlled, almost hypnotic. It barely carried beyond the few feet to the nearest sailor — yet it seemed to echo across the entire docking bay.

The tallest of the three men stepped closer, leaning down, trying to assert dominance. “You gonna fight, princess? Or you just—”

The sentence never finished. Ava moved.

It was so fast, so fluid that the eye could hardly follow. Her hands swept from behind her back, one grabbing the man’s arm, twisting it in a motion that was precise and clinical. The other sailor lunged instinctively, but Ava ducked, pivoting on her heel with the grace of a dancer, landing behind him. A rapid succession of movements — a sweep, a push, and a twist — sent all three men sprawling to the deck, groaning and scrambling to recover.

Silence, for a heartbeat, swallowed the docking bay.

Then came the stunned whispers. “Did… did she just—?”

“Who is she?”

“She’s… she can’t be…”

Ramirez didn’t have to say it. He only shook his head, his face pale under the brim of his cap. Top-secret, off-the-books, we don’t talk about her…

Ava’s stance relaxed, but her eyes never left the three deckhands. Their mocking grins had vanished, replaced by a mixture of fear and disbelief. The men scrambled to their feet, but there was no fight left in them. They stumbled backward, bumping into crates, hands raised in a futile attempt at surrender.

“Next time,” Ava said softly, almost conversationally, “think before you open your mouth.”

Her words were measured, deceptively gentle, but they carried the weight of steel and authority. The docking bay hummed with residual tension, as if the air itself were holding its breath.

A young sailor, a rookie barely out of boot camp, peeked from behind a bulkhead. “Ma’am… I didn’t know… she’s… I mean…”

Ramirez coughed, his voice low, barely audible: “She’s… the weapon. The Navy doesn’t advertise it. No one outside command should know.”

Ava glanced at him briefly, just long enough to acknowledge his presence before returning her attention to the trembling deckhands. Her expression was unreadable. Calm. Lethal.

The boarding process continued around her, the background noise of the engines, crates, and shouted orders resuming. Yet Ava’s presence dominated the bay, a silent hurricane wrapped in a uniform, ready to strike if necessary.

A commotion at the far end of the bay drew her attention. A crate had fallen incorrectly, threatening to crush a line of equipment. Without hesitation, she darted across the deck, faster than anyone expected, setting it upright with a single, precise shove. A rookie’s jaw hung open.

“How… how did she—”

“She’s… different,” Ramirez muttered, shaking his head. He knew the stories, the classified dossiers, the missions that never appeared in reports or commendations. Ava Blake wasn’t just a sailor. She was a ghost in the Navy’s arsenal, trained in ways that blurred the line between human and weapon.

The three deckhands, now sitting against the wall, avoided eye contact. Their bravado had evaporated in seconds. One muttered, “I… I think I need a transfer.”

Ava didn’t respond. She simply straightened, adjusted her uniform, and walked toward the boarding ramp, each step measured, deliberate. She had a ship to deploy, orders to execute — but the memory of this encounter would follow those men for the rest of their careers.

Ramirez followed her at a careful distance, notebook in hand, though he knew it was redundant. She didn’t need notes. She didn’t need validation. She needed nothing but the mission. And those who underestimated her… learned quickly that the Navy’s most terrifying asset often came in the smallest, quietest packages.

The USS Vigilant hummed around them, alive with energy, tension, and anticipation. Ava’s presence added a new layer — silent, deadly, unshakable. She wasn’t here to prove herself. She had already proven it, in ways that would leave the entire fleet wary of looking her in the eye.

Deployment day had begun. And in the hours ahead, every sailor aboard would discover that the quiet woman in uniform wasn’t just part of the crew. She was the crew’s ultimate edge — a force that could turn chaos into control with a flick of a wrist, a pivot, a glance.

And the men who thought she was weak? They wouldn’t forget.

Chapter 2: Into the Fire

The USS Vigilant groaned as it peeled away from the dock, engines thrumming like a living beast beneath the deck. Salt spray stung the eyes of the sailors on the open deck, and the wind whipped Ava’s dark hair across her face. She barely flinched. She had weathered far worse than wind and spray.

“Status report!” barked Commander Hayes from the bridge, his voice cutting through the roar of the ocean.

Petty Officer Jenkins, a wiry communications officer, shouted back, “All systems nominal, sir! Engines stable, radar clear!”

Ramirez lingered near Ava, eyes scanning the crew nervously. “You ready for this?” he asked quietly.

Ava’s reply was calm, almost disinterested. “I’ve been ready my whole life. Are they?”

Ramirez swallowed hard, remembering the three deckhands. Their bravado hadn’t survived her first demonstration. She had an aura about her — lethal, unshakable, and terrifying to anyone who underestimated her.

A sudden alarm blared, red lights flashing across the control panels. The deck shook as the ship’s automated systems detected multiple fast-moving objects approaching from the starboard side.

“Incoming!” someone yelled. “Unknown craft, high velocity!”

The crew snapped into action. Sailors sprinted to their stations, hands flying over switches and touchscreens. The boarding bay became a chaotic symphony of shouted orders, mechanical clanks, and the smell of ozone from the emergency systems.

Ava moved through it all like a shadow, small but impossible to ignore. Her eyes scanned the incoming radar blips, hands adjusting gear with precise movements. She reached a small console near the aft deck and pulled up a detailed schematic of the approaching vessels.

“They’re drones,” she muttered, almost to herself. Her fingers flew over the touchscreen, rerouting power and activating countermeasures. “High speed, low trajectory. Predictable pattern, but not if we stay reactive.”

Ramirez’s jaw tightened. He knew what that meant. Ava wasn’t just reacting — she was anticipating, analyzing, calculating moves that would normally take a squadron of officers hours to figure out.

One of the crewmen hesitated at his post, frozen by the flashing red lights. “Sir… what do we do?”

Hayes barked an order, but Ava beat him to it. She activated the defensive grid, her fingers moving faster than most people could think. Energy fields shimmered across the hull, small pulse cannons calibrated to intercept the drones mid-flight.

“Shields at 75%… firing sequence initiated,” she announced.

The first drone collided with the shields in a shower of sparks and fire. The crew gasped. The second drone exploded midair, sending shards of metal spraying across the starboard deck. Another barely grazed the hull before being vaporized in a white-hot flash.

The three deckhands from earlier had been stationed near a loading bay hatch. They watched in silent awe, mouths agape. The man who had once sneered at Ava muttered, almost inaudibly, “She… she’s insane.”

Ava’s calm focus didn’t waver. She pivoted, monitoring multiple screens at once, adjusting countermeasures, and issuing commands with a precision that left the entire crew scrambling to keep up. Ramirez could only shake his head. This is why she’s the Navy’s ghost weapon. No one outside command ever sees her this way.

One of the drones managed a near miss, crashing into the railing just a few feet from the aft deck. Sparks flew, and a sailor screamed as he dove out of the way. Without hesitation, Ava reacted. She sprinted across the wet deck, boots slapping against steel, and yanked the sailor to safety just as a second shard ricocheted past them.

“Get down!” she shouted, voice sharp and commanding. Her eyes swept over the remaining threats, scanning the chaos with unnatural clarity. Every sailor nearby instinctively ducked or followed her orders without question.

Ramirez, still behind her, muttered, “She moves like—like she knows where the danger will be before it happens.”

Ava’s response was a glance, brief but icy, before she returned her attention to the drone strike. She leapt, twisted, and slammed a lever with perfect timing, redirecting a secondary energy pulse that obliterated the last incoming drone. The aft deck was showered in sparks, smoke curling through the salty air, but no one was harmed.

Silence fell once more, broken only by the hiss of cooling engines and the distant roar of the sea.

The three deckhands sank to their knees, hands still shaking. One whispered, “She… saved the ship.”

“She didn’t just save the ship,” Ramirez said quietly, voice edged with awe. “She owns it. And everyone on it.”

Commander Hayes finally arrived at the aft deck, face pale but furious. “Petty Officer Blake, report!”

Ava saluted, expression unreadable. “All threats neutralized, sir. Ship status stable, crew intact.”

Hayes blinked. He had expected excuses, mistakes, confusion. Instead, he found perfect execution — almost inhuman in its precision. “Impressive,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Most of these men wouldn’t have lasted five minutes without you.”

Ava didn’t smile. She only nodded once, then stepped back to the railing, scanning the horizon for further threats. The ocean stretched endlessly, glinting under the fading sun, a reminder that danger could strike at any moment.

Ramirez approached her quietly, lowering his voice. “You didn’t have to show them everything in one strike.”

Ava’s eyes flicked to him. “If they’re going to survive out here, they need to understand the stakes immediately. Hesitation costs lives. All lives.”

He nodded slowly, realizing the weight of her words. These weren’t just drills or exercises. Every decision Ava made had consequences that reached far beyond a single deployment.

The crew slowly began to regain composure, but the mood had shifted. Respect, tinged with fear, hung over the docking bay. Even the jokers had learned their lesson: this woman was not to be trifled with.

As night fell, the USS Vigilant continued its journey into open waters. Ava leaned against the railing, eyes scanning the horizon, her mind calculating and analyzing each potential threat. Ramirez stood nearby, a silent witness to the force that most in the Navy only knew about in whispers and classified files.

Somewhere deep within the ship, a comm system crackled to life. “All units, prepare for engagement protocol Alpha-9. Unknown hostiles detected beyond sector 4. ETA to intercept: 30 minutes.”

Ava’s lips curved slightly — a ghost of a smile, barely perceptible. “Finally,” she murmured, voice low. “Time to see what you’re made of.”

Ramirez felt a chill. He had trained for countless missions, faced enemies across multiple theaters, yet standing next to Ava Blake made him feel like a rookie again. She wasn’t just a soldier. She was a storm, and the storm was about to hit.

The crew hustled to their stations, adrenaline surging anew. But one thing was certain: with Ava Blake at the helm of defense, the USS Vigilant had just gained an edge that no enemy could anticipate. And as the waves of night rolled in, Ramirez knew — the real battle was only beginning.

Chapter 3: The Edge of Chaos

The night had grown darker, almost oppressive, as the USS Vigilant sliced through the inky waves. Radar screens blinked urgently; the sector ahead was littered with unidentified signals, moving fast and erratically. The crew worked like clockwork, but the tension was palpable. Every man and woman aboard sensed that this was no ordinary exercise.

Ava stood at the forward control console, eyes narrowing at the swirling dots on the display. She traced their trajectories with a fingertip, calculating angles, velocities, and probabilities at a speed that no human should manage. Ramirez lingered nearby, clipboard forgotten, his face pale under the bridge’s dim lights.

“They’re coordinating,” Ava said softly. “Not just random drones — someone’s controlling them. Highly organized. And they know our movements.”

Commander Hayes, pacing behind them, muttered, “They’re close to visual range now. Weapons hot?”

“Ready,” Ava replied without hesitation. Her voice carried authority that cut through the static tension, demanding unquestioned attention.

A siren shrieked suddenly — the enemy was here. From the darkness ahead, sleek, black attack drones emerged, moving with lethal precision. Their lights glinted like shards of ice, reflecting in the dark water as they circled the Vigilant.

“Battle stations!” Hayes yelled. “This isn’t a drill!”

The crew scrambled, rushing to automated turrets, manual gun emplacements, and defensive arrays. Yet amidst the chaos, Ava remained unnervingly calm. She moved like a phantom, gliding from console to console, issuing instructions in crisp, concise commands.

“Target the lead drone with pulse cannon three,” she ordered. “Secondary grid, prepare intercept. Jenkins, reroute power to aft shields at fifty percent—now!”

The first volley erupted. Pulses of energy tore through the night sky, tearing apart one of the lead drones in a blinding explosion. Sparks rained across the deck as the energy pulses reflected off the steel hull. The second drone swerved sharply, attempting to flank, but Ava anticipated the maneuver.

“Left turret, intercept! Ramirez, seal that bulkhead; we don’t need debris in the corridor!” she barked.

The ship shook violently as the second drone collided with a reinforced shield. Metal groaned, but the ship held. The deck beneath them vibrated with the impact, sending sailors stumbling — but Ava never faltered. She pivoted smoothly, boots gripping steel as she adjusted the shield frequency, neutralizing further attacks before they could escalate.

The three deckhands from earlier clung to a railing, wide-eyed and pale. “I… I don’t understand,” one stammered. “She sees everything… before it happens.”

Ramirez only nodded. “She calculates it. Every move, every outcome… it’s like watching a living battle algorithm.”

Ava’s attention snapped to a shadow on the port side. A smaller craft had broken through the outer perimeter, stealth mode engaged. Before anyone could react, she sprinted toward the aft deck, sliding across wet steel with precise momentum. She grabbed a rope and swung herself onto a catwalk, positioning herself above the rogue drone.

In a fluid motion, she leapt down, landing on its hull. Sparks erupted as she punched through a weak panel, exposing the drone’s core. With a wrenching twist and precise strikes, she disabled its circuitry. The drone clattered uselessly to the deck below.

“Core neutralized,” she called, voice echoing over the comms.

Hayes blinked. “She… she boarded it?”

“Yes, sir,” Ramirez said quietly. “And survived.”

Another wave of drones approached, faster this time. Ava moved among them like water flowing over rocks, anticipating each strike. A pulse cannon aimed at the lead ship — she timed the shield adjustment perfectly, sending the blast harmlessly into the ocean. A smaller drone attempted to breach the port side — she caught it midair, twisting and redirecting it into another drone, creating a chain reaction that shredded three attackers at once.

A young sailor nearby whispered in awe, “She’s… unstoppable.”

“She’s not just unstoppable,” Ramirez said. “She’s untouchable… if you can keep up.”

The boarding bay hatch burst open as one of the damaged drones skidded inside. It spun wildly, metal scraping, sparks flying toward nearby sailors. Ava was there instantly, intercepting it mid-spin. She delivered a precise kick to its stabilization module, flipping it into a containment net. The sailors around her stepped back, hearts pounding.

“Step away from the machinery!” she commanded, voice cutting like steel.

Minutes stretched like hours. The battle raged on, yet Ava’s calm, calculated efficiency dominated every moment. No one could predict her next move — she was always two steps ahead, orchestrating chaos with surgical precision.

Finally, the last drone exploded in a burst of sparks, falling into the waves. Silence returned, broken only by the hiss of cooling systems and the occasional groan of tired sailors.

Hayes, face ashen but composed, looked at Ava. “Petty Officer Blake… that was—impressive.”

Ava’s expression was unreadable. “It’s not impressive. It’s survival. And the mission isn’t over.”

Ramirez stepped forward. “Sir… she’s barely breathing. Every move she made… it’s like she absorbed the battle into herself. The crew… they can’t operate like this. They’ll burn out if we rely on her constantly.”

Hayes nodded, worry etching his face. “Noted. But for now… she just saved this ship. And probably every life on board.”

Ava moved to the railing, surveying the horizon. The ocean reflected the dark sky, waves churning as if responding to the tension still lingering in the air. She clenched her jaw, scanning for further threats, every muscle coiled and ready.

A rookie sailor approached her cautiously. “Ma’am… I… I just want to say… thank you. You… you saved us all.”

Ava glanced at him briefly. “Remember this,” she said, voice calm but firm. “Survival doesn’t come from luck. It comes from awareness, discipline, and action. One mistake… and it’s over.”

The young sailor nodded, eyes wide, understanding the weight behind her words.

Ramirez watched silently, realizing that this wasn’t just another mission for Ava. Every deployment was a crucible. Every enemy encounter was a test. And every sailor who stood near her witnessed something extraordinary: the lethal precision of a warrior forged in secrecy, whose presence alone could command respect, fear, and awe.

As the USS Vigilant continued into open waters, a new message crackled over the comm:

“Unknown hostiles have withdrawn. Threat level decreased. Await further orders.”

Ava exhaled softly, eyes narrowing at the horizon. The first wave was over. But she knew better than anyone — it was only the beginning. The real storm was still out there, waiting, calculating, watching.

Ramirez approached cautiously, lowering his voice. “Ma’am… if this keeps escalating, can the crew keep up?”

Ava’s eyes flicked to him, calm, unflinching. “They’ll learn. Or they won’t. Either way… I’ll make sure the ship survives.”

And in that moment, Ramirez understood the full weight of her presence. The USS Vigilant wasn’t just equipped with technology, crew, or firepower. It had Ava Blake. And as the waves rose beneath the hull, a silent promise echoed across the deck: no enemy would underestimate her… and anyone who did would regret it.

The night stretched on, filled with tension, anticipation, and the unspoken knowledge that tomorrow would bring new challenges — challenges only Ava could confront with perfect, terrifying precision.

Chapter 4: The Storm Breaks

The USS Vigilant cut through the pre-dawn fog like a predator, engines humming with controlled power. The calm of the night had given way to an uneasy stillness, the kind that always precedes chaos. Ava stood at the railing, eyes scanning the horizon, fingers lightly resting on her tactical gloves. The waves were deceptively quiet. Too quiet.

“Commander Hayes to all decks,” came the intercom, static punctuating the message. “Sensors detect a large vessel approaching fast. Unknown origin. Repeat: unknown origin. All hands, prepare for potential engagement.”

Ava didn’t flinch. Her lips pressed together in a line of concentration, mind racing through possibilities. Ramirez approached cautiously, keeping his distance. “Ma’am… they’re not like the drones. This is bigger. Heavily armed, tactical maneuvers. If they engage, we’re looking at a full-on confrontation.”

Ava turned, eyes locking with his. Calm, measured, and terrifyingly precise. “Good. Let’s see what they’ve got.”

The first sign of the enemy came as a low hum, growing louder with every second. Out of the mist, a sleek, black vessel emerged, its design unlike any conventional naval ship. It moved with unnerving speed, weapons glinting along its hull, targeting systems locking onto the Vigilant with laser precision.

Hayes barked orders. “Weapons hot! All stations to fire positions! Shields at maximum! Brace for impact!”

The crew scrambled, every hand moving in rehearsed chaos. Yet amidst the storm of orders, Ava’s movements were almost hypnotic. She didn’t just act — she predicted, calculating enemy trajectories and countermeasures simultaneously.

“Port shields at eighty percent… redirecting auxiliary power… pulse cannons ready on my mark,” she called out.

The enemy vessel fired first. Beams of concentrated energy tore across the water toward the Vigilant. The shields flared, absorbing the impact, steel groaning beneath the strain. Sparks rained across the deck, and sailors ducked instinctively.

“Divert aft shields! Now!” Ava commanded. “Ramirez, manual override on turret three — take control of trajectory!”

The assault continued, faster and more aggressive. Drones launched from the enemy ship, swarming the Vigilant. Ava moved among them like a phantom, dodging, striking, and disabling drones mid-air. She boarded a larger drone mid-flight, twisting its control module and sending it spiraling into the sea. Sparks and fragments rained around her.

The deck shook violently as a missile impacted the port side. Alarms blared, lights flickered, and chaos threatened to spiral out of control. Yet Ava remained the eye of the storm, her voice cutting through the noise.

“Focus fire on the missile launchers! Shield modulation at sixty-five percent! Jenkins, give me a real-time feed of enemy hull integrity!”

A rookie sailor stumbled, nearly losing his footing. “Ma’am… it’s too much! We can’t—”

Ava’s hand shot out, steadying him with iron precision. “Yes, you can. Follow my lead, or you die. Your choice.”

The young sailor’s eyes widened, but he nodded, realizing that hesitation would be fatal.

Meanwhile, Ramirez’s voice trembled as he reported to Ava: “Ma’am… enemy ship closing fast. Weapons systems are adaptive… they’re learning from our maneuvers.”

Ava’s lips tightened. “Then we evolve faster. Target their control core. Disable command. Take the mind out, and the body follows.”

With a flash of movement, she grabbed a tactical rope and swung onto the enemy drone ship, using it as a bridge to board the vessel. Her body moved with lethal precision: a kick to a control panel, a sweep of her arm knocking weapons offline, a twist and spin disarming any attacker within reach. Within moments, she had incapacitated the drone crew with surgical efficiency, leaving only the vessel’s command interface exposed.

“Command core exposed,” she reported through comms. “Prepare EMP surge… now!”

Hayes and Ramirez coordinated the strike. A pulse of electromagnetic energy shot across the water, slamming into the enemy ship’s systems. Lights flickered, weapons went silent, and the hulking black vessel drifted, powerless, in the waves.

On the Vigilant, sailors erupted into cheers, but Ava’s focus never wavered. She scanned the horizon, ensuring no hidden threats remained. The ocean around them was silent once more, the storm passed.

She stepped back onto the Vigilant’s deck, boots wet, hair clinging to her face, breathing steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. Hayes approached, face pale but awed. “Petty Officer Blake… you just—saved every life aboard this ship. And possibly hundreds more beyond us.”

Ava saluted crisply. “Sir, I didn’t do it for praise. I did it because it had to be done. There’s no heroics in survival — only execution.”

Ramirez exhaled deeply. “Every time, she just… makes it look easy. But it’s not easy. Not for anyone else, anyway.”

The crew slowly recovered, faces smeared with sweat, dirt, and awe. The three deckhands from Chapter 1 approached Ava, hesitant, silent, finally able to speak. “Ma’am… we… we underestimated you. Badly. I… I don’t know how to—”

Ava cut them off with a glance, sharp and unwavering. “You know now. Never forget it. Respect, discipline, awareness. Or next time… you won’t get a warning.”

They nodded silently, the weight of her words sinking in.

Hayes finally spoke, voice measured. “Petty Officer Blake… I want a full report on what happened here. And Ramirez… keep a close eye on her. This ship runs because of her skills, but she’s operating at a level none of us fully understand.”

Ava didn’t answer. She simply adjusted her uniform, walking to the railing once more, looking out at the waves glinting in the first light of dawn. The ocean stretched endlessly, and for the first time, there was a moment of peace.

But peace on the ocean was always temporary. Ava knew the storm would return. It always did. And when it did, she would be ready. Always ready.

Ramirez watched her, silently acknowledging what he had known from the beginning: the Navy’s deadliest weapon wasn’t the drones, the ships, or the technology. It was her. Ava Blake. And no enemy, no matter how well-equipped, could ever predict what she would do next.

The sun rose over the Vigilant, painting the deck in hues of gold and silver. The crew moved with renewed energy, understanding that survival had been bought with skill, precision, and the silent dominance of a woman in uniform. Ava’s shadow stretched across the deck, long and commanding, a symbol of fear and hope all at once.

The storm had broken. And for now, the USS Vigilant sailed onward — stronger, wiser, and protected by the Navy’s most terrifying secret.

Ava Blake, the silent storm, was always watching. Always calculating. And always ready…