Castles of Steel - Lesbians Good, Imperialism Bad

"We have to leave." You felt yourself saying. It felt wrong just to think it, but you knew what your duty demands. "We can't help."

The grim reality of the statement settled on the room like a fog. Akio looked sick. You wanted to help, desperately. But surfacing the boat now would only put the sailors that you helped lead in more danger.

"Helm, stand by for full astern. Hold a station three kilometers out and await further orders." Ken said. "Let's wait a bit. Maybe we can help after the excitement dies down."

You returned to your station and sat in a daze. Kwon pulled an ear away from the hydrophone monitor and looked concerned a moment, but went back.

"What's going on out there?" You asked, sort of generally.

"Hard to say, ma'am. Spikes of sound which I think are shell splashes, and I can hear the monitor breaking up as she settles--" He winced away from the ear phone. "Explosion. The monitor, I think--maybe her boilers or the fire reached her magazines?"

You pulled out your logbook and hovered your pencil above the page, trying to think of something you could be doing. There wasn't anything but to wait and listen for news.

"I think our sub just went under." Kwon said grimly. You were about to ask him what he meant when Kenshin spoke up from his position at the periscope.

"Ha-17 is gone. There's sailors in the water, and they're still shelling. There's nothing more we can do."

---

A few hours later, you dragged yourself away from the control room and back to your bunk, sinking defeated onto the thing mattress and kicking off your boots, then wrestling off your work clothes. It was already filthy enough that you swore if you didn't hang it against your door it would probably stand up on its own. You settled your head back against your little pillow (you'd gone and purchased yourself a nice one the first time you got back to port) and stared at the dark metal ceiling just a few feet above you.

A solitary drop of water plopped down on your nose.

A coastal sub for a monitor was a good trade, and the mines had been successfully deployed. The damage would be enormous, and the port would be out of action for days or maybe weeks.

This was a victory, really.

You told yourself that a few times, and you actually started to believe it. You tried to imagine what it must have been like on Ha-17. Probably damned exciting, the tension of the minelaying, the rush of the full-speed sprint out of the harbour, the panic of the evacuation. Climbing out of the ship to dark seas, backlit by a burning enemy ship, shells raining down. Must have felt glorious. Not a bad way to go.

You remembered the water filling your lungs. Thinking help was coming, and then being abandoned to the mercy of the water and the enemy. Not the best way to go either.

You penned a letter to Aiko quickly, another in the bundle you were going to send her. You'd started writing something small at the end of each day, and then when you could they'd all be sent in one big clump she could sort through. It felt more honest that way. Sort of like a diary, though your mother had always told you that writing down all your deepest secrets somewhere and trying to hide it was just asking to be blackmailed.

Then you buried yourself under the thin sheets and fell dead asleep.

---

The next few nights were strange. The boat was sober, and yet there was a sense of triumph among the crew. The destruction of an enemy capital ship, even an old coastal monitor, is an accomplishment to be proud of and the radio message you got from headquarters congratulating the I-02 brushed over the loss of the Ha-17. The crew had been happy with the message, since Kenshin had read it out over the ship's public address system and congratulated everyone on their hard work and talked briefly about how the training and drills that everyone did was paying off in the effort to win the war.

The boat made its way back to restock on torpedoes and mines, and pick up mail. You had a blessed few hours out in the open air to take a bath and clean your clothes before once again crawling into the boat and closing yourself in. You were starting to miss the sun.

The same night, Kenshin held his weekly dinner where every officer was brought along and crammed into the tiny table in his 'state room.' You found yourself squeezed, mercifully, between Akio and Kenshin, which kept you from having to interact directly with either of your two 'suitors.' As you all began to dig into the humble fare (all the really good stuff had been eaten at the beginning of the patrol, so you were down to lots of rice, millet, pickled vegetables, and canned fish or meat supplemented by what could be caught over the side if you were lucky) the topic of conversation turned to a very popular topic: home and the people who had been left behind. Particularly girls (or boys depending on who you asked).

"Hatsu finally got a new job," Kenshin was saying with no small amount of pride. "She's moved over to Ohara Airworks, you know, the company that won the race? She says they have a project they're working on but she can't talk about it much because of the war. Very hush hush. They also treat her so much better there, it's ridiculous. No one expects her to fetch tea or make copies anymore! She's doing real engineering work!"

It was hard not to share his happiness. You knew all about being a woman in a male dominated workplace and her previous job at Akibara had sounded downright miserable. Then again, given your luck with new postings, you suspected she might have just traded one miserable post for another.

"It's not going to hurt her career, working for a smaller company?" You asked.

"Well, honestly, she didn't have much of a career at Akibara. She says there are a lot more women at Ohara. She works with another female engineer on engines now. And Mx. Matsura is just as much of a wonder as the newspapers say. I'm really glad she took the job." Kenshin was practically gushing, and you relaxed a little. There was safety in numbers.

"That's good," said Takamitsu. "When are you two going to get married, though? I understand modern women want a lot out of life--no offense, Arisukawa--but don't you think she'd be more comfortable as an officer's wife instead of slaving away for a wage in some office?"

"She trained longer than I did for her job." Kenshin laughed. "And at her new job, she's almost being paid more than me. Hell, I might end up being the one staying at home."

Uproarious laughter burst out around the table. It reminded you of those crude anti-suffrage cartoons that had went around the newspapers, men carrying babies around while their wives went off to work.

"How's your husband, by the way, Jiro?" Takamitsu smiled at the question.

"He's doing well--says things are busier than ever at the mill. The army needs so much cloth for uniforms and bandages and whatever else that they're thinking about adding a second building and even more looms to help meet the demand if they get another big contract. If they do, he's hoping to get moved to be foreman there."

"That would be a big step up," Akio said with a laugh. "...Kaworu has been thinking of signing up for the Army, but I keep telling him he should stay where he is. It's better for him to stay in university--he even gets a deferment since he's studying medicine. Besides, then I'd be a naval officer courting a footslogger." A ripple of laughter around the table.

"Urgh, student deferments." Lieutenant Yagi said. "I can't believe we're letting people get away with that. Everyone should be helping, not learning some leftist claptrap from foreign professors."

"We'll need doctors and engineers and others after the war is over," you pointed out. Him and his stupid fucking Purity Club nonsense again. "I don't begrudge them it at all--and I'm no leftist! Our whole society can't just be soldiers and sailors, you know?"

"If he gets his degree, he can join the army and be even more help. I hear they need more medical staff with the way things are going," Akio added with an annoyed glare that he didn't bother to hide.

"Besides, the army is no place for a pretty boy like him." Takamitsu added, and Akio's glare turned his way as well. "What about your girl there, whatshername? Isn't she also in university?"

"No. She helps her parents with the family business. Tailoring. She's a seamstress." Akio was bristling again and you gave him a little nudge in the ribs with an elbow between bites of dinner. Calm down, guy, sheesh!

"Oh? I thought you said they were living together while you were gone, so it made sense to me that she was probably a student…" Takamitsu's eyebrows got higher, and you thought that they might knock his hat off if he wasn't careful.

"No. They just--they're fond of each other, too--I mean, he introduced me to her and--" Akio fumbled for words, his face turning a brighter shade of red.

"What? Really? You just let them live together?" Yagi asked incredulously.

"She's cheating on you. You know that, right?" Hayashi chimed in, voice grim.

"It's… it's not cheating! I… it's not like I don't know… and it's just cheaper for them to share a flat and--and I'm not going to tell them who to be attracted to--" Akio floundered, his usual angry bluster failing him as he was attacked on multiple fronts.

Hayashi shook his head sadly.

"You're being played, Akio. You need to get your boy and get out." Takamitsu said. "Or she'll steal him away. I've seen it before."

"T-that's not what's…" Akio was clearly lost for words. "We all care about each other--"

"Hey, ease up everyone." you jumped in. "You know it wasn't always like it is now--it's not that weird historically. Remember The Tale of Prince Genji? Or do you not read your classics anymore?"

"Prince Genji is a tragedy, though…" Hayashi said.

"Well, it had nothing to do with their relationship, which was completely perfect." You said. You had opinions on this.

(You might have a composition book full of your ideas about how the story should have ended stashed in a closet at home somewhere from your secondary school days. Maybe. Not that you were telling anyone that.)

You'd successfully drawn the heat off Akio, but unfortunately brought it down on yourself.

"Hey, what about you, Haruna? Still single?" Hayashi asked, and you glared at him. How dare he be that familiar, the little prick?

"That's my business," you replied sharply.

"I'm just curious," he said, pressing you. "You do get a lot of mail from Horonai University… With a woman's handwriting."

Fucking. Gross. He was looking at your mail? You were going to tell Aiko to start sealing her letters in fucking wax.

"A woman, huh?" Yagi said.

"She's the sister of one of my old shipmates. Kehara knows her. We're friends," you emphasized. "I don't have time to be courting anyone." You felt a little slimy denying Aiko but… the last thing you needed was one of these assholes leaking your relationship to the press.

"How much time would you need, Haruna? I know you well enough. I mean..." Kenshin said, laughing. You realized with horror he was about to launch into a story, and you tried your best to disappear into your chair. "Oh shit, I haven't told this story. So I met Koide at this tea house in Joeson, because Haruna here…" Kenshin laid out the story of the two of them meeting with your help with great embellishment. From the way he told it, Koide was just about to throw herself onto you when you redirected her to Kenshin.

"... last I saw her that night, she was talking to a tall businesswoman, and, funnily enough, I didn't see her on the ship until late the next morning. How about that?"

Right. Because you hadn't told him what had actually happened that night, and there was no way you ever could. Fuck.

You were about to respond to defend your honour, but you were interrupted by Kwon entering the room and leaning next to your ear.

"Sorry ma'am. We need you in the control room." He whispered. You nodded and stood up.

"My apologies everyone." You excused yourself with more than a little relief and made your way down the hall, stepping into the tiny radio closet. Another of your sailors was working there, Murakami, who'd been transferred to the boat on account of his understanding Caspian, with the expectation the sub would do some spying through the radios while operating in coastal waters.

"What do you have?" You asked. Wordlessly, he tore the current page off the notepad and handed it to you, still writing on the fresh page, and you and Kwon stepped back to talk it out without interrupting him.

"Umeda heard this about twenty minutes ago." Kwon explained as you smoothed out the sheet and started reading. "Identified itself as a New Alleghany transport ship, but then started talking a lot of Caspian, so I sent for Murakami. They've been chattering ever since."

You read the hastily translated transcript over. It started off innocuously, listing the name of the transport (The SS Cordelia), its make (a 4500 ton small goods carrier), its course, and its business (supposedly, moving coffee). Akitsukuni wasn't at war with New Alleghany, so civilian shipping like this wouldn't be subject to much more than boarding to ensure everything was on the level, if somebody had the time to go check.

But something was off.

For one, they hadn't attempted to contact the Akitsukuni fleet with similar information, which is generally a very good idea when you're entering a war zone. For another, what followed after the regular transmissions was a frankly nonsensical exchange of random numbers and letters with a Caspian station in both words and Vail code.

You knew a secret code when you heard one.

This boat wasn't exactly equipped to intercept civilian ships and conduct boarding actions. There were four rifles on board in a locker, along with half a dozen revolvers and maybe two of the newly adopted semi-automatic pistols (ew) and some of the officers had their pistols as well. You were pretty sure that was the grand total of the guns on board. If the civilian cargo boat turned out to be carrying military personal or a hidden naval gun, well, it'd be a very embarrassing way to lose a very valuable cutting edge submarine.

But on the other hand, there was a very good chance this was… while not innocuous, not something you could usefully do anything about. If the boat was carrying spies, you'd never know.