- Location
- USA
The joke is the Strike Witches reference.
All Wo-rk and No Play: An Abyssal's Trials in the Job Market (KC)
- Thread starter PyrrhicSteel
- Start date
Neruz
Rogue Spiderbanana
- Location
- The Land of Fire and Poison
Technically you can put a spaceport anywhere, but due to physics and logistical reasons the best locations for them are usually near or on the coast. In fact, under the right circumstances the best location for launching a spacecraft becomes 'at sea', and the best place for landing a spacecraft has almost always been 'at sea'.
So if you want your land-locked spaceport, you're probably going to need something like anti-gravity to make that practical.
13th Bee
Worker
- Location
- Tennessee, USA.
Being close to the equator is more important. And one of the biggest spaceports in the world is the ex-Soviet-now-Russian Baikonur Cosmodrome in the middle of Kazakhstan.
And the Soviet space program was always a fan of land landings.
Neruz
Rogue Spiderbanana
- Location
- The Land of Fire and Poison
Typically I would not use the Soviet space program as an example of good ideas for space programs.
Plus the Soviet preference for land landings was motivated more by preventing the USA from being able to interfere than anything else.
Furthermore, modern spaceflight is very, well, limited in scope, which alters the criteria for what makes a viable spaceport. The big reason why coastal locations are good is because they give you access to shipping, which is logistically important for moving large amounts of goods around. Obviously, with the current state of modern spaceflight that isn't really a big deal, but should spaceflight ever become economically viable on a significant scale having cheap and easy access to a major shipping port suddenly becomes much more important.
As you said; being close to the equator is most important, coincidentally, the majority of locations on this planet that are close to the equator are also close to the ocean.
Last edited:
- Location
- United States
I wonder how long on the internet it will take Trini to realize her Mother is soon to be going to Japan?
- Location
- madison
They likily keep that under wraps, or at doing so now since they know someone might be googling her.
SilverShadows
Under autumn skies
- Location
- US
"Well, we've found Wo-E6."
"Excellent! Where is she?"
"Last reports have her screaming out of a public library, and sprinting for the nearest coast. Current estimates have her making best speeds towards Japan."
"She found Saratoga... What set her off?"
"...umm... well the computer terminal she was recorded using was left on...err... fanart of Saratoga sir..."
"..."
"..."
"...so what you're saying is 'she's not our problem anymore.'"
"Quite right sir"
"Carry on."
<Saratoga watches a surveillance video of Trinitite repeatedly smashing a sleazy-looking guy's face into a computer monitor.>
Saratoga: "I am totally OK with this."
Neruz
Rogue Spiderbanana
- Location
- The Land of Fire and Poison
On the one hand, shipgirl deployments are likely to be kept secret if only out of habit.
On the other hand, shipgirls are teenage girls and the odds of them not using their electronic warfare equipment to surf the internet and post on social media are basically nil, so this could easily go either way and depends entirely on how long it takes Trini to find Facebook and realize what exactly it is she has discovered.
- Location
- Big Apple 3am
As a wise alien robot mad scientist dad once said: In Pants We Trust
The Rear-Admiral's ending lines kinda drove another point home and why new blood rising up when warfare changes is actually a good thing. When the rules of war change it can be hard for old warriors to adapt.
Also, hey, Redmond. I lived there for a few years. Nice place, kinda casual upper-crusty area. Little bit of emphasis on casual there. Open air shopping mall was interesting, err... it had a glass ceiling covering the middle ways and some of those were roads, but it was kinda a shopping mall in design otherwise.
Doesn't rain there nearly as much as memes would have you believe too, about... 50-50 chances of it being sunny or rainy any given day. And the rain was usually light unless it was a big storm. The storms were fresh off the ocean so they didn't really have time to, uhh, compact might be a good word for it.
Snow could be rare. Deep winter months to even see light flurries, though my first winter there had snow just before thanksgiving. Got cold though. Oh, and people can't drive even with easy ice on the road (cracked, white, bumpy kind of ice with a lot of ridges that wheels can still catch on for traction. Black ice is just brr, but I didn't see much of that surprisingly).
And wow did I just reminisce all over this post.
Also, hey, Redmond. I lived there for a few years. Nice place, kinda casual upper-crusty area. Little bit of emphasis on casual there. Open air shopping mall was interesting, err... it had a glass ceiling covering the middle ways and some of those were roads, but it was kinda a shopping mall in design otherwise.
Doesn't rain there nearly as much as memes would have you believe too, about... 50-50 chances of it being sunny or rainy any given day. And the rain was usually light unless it was a big storm. The storms were fresh off the ocean so they didn't really have time to, uhh, compact might be a good word for it.
Snow could be rare. Deep winter months to even see light flurries, though my first winter there had snow just before thanksgiving. Got cold though. Oh, and people can't drive even with easy ice on the road (cracked, white, bumpy kind of ice with a lot of ridges that wheels can still catch on for traction. Black ice is just brr, but I didn't see much of that surprisingly).
And wow did I just reminisce all over this post.
My vote is for Trucker. She can handle long hours, navigation over vast oceans and narrow reefs, has little concern over getting waylaid while alone in the middle of nowhere, has extensive experience operating heavy vehicle with heavy cargo, ludicrous experience of planning fuel and equipment resupply distances for her aircraft, abundant equipment maintenance(both why to wait for professional facilities and how to improvise in the field) experience, and... well how often does she find that there was a traffic helicopter conveniently in her area? Not to mention that she knows how to operate a radio on those long drives with nobody to talk to and she doesn't mind travelling a long way from any fixed address. Then there is the big one... It avoids one of the primary threats to a trucker's well-being if their seat can outlast their truck's seat. Wo'd able to go backwards clear-through the engine-block with barely a scratch! ... She might even be able to carry truck fuel in her hold...
It occurs to me that Trinitite may find herself encountering more physical challenges than her peers. Between the uncouth types she might meet when looking for work sans identification, to any military encounters she might have, to learning to avoid harming civilians, to any preparations she might make in expectation to being ambushed on land... Trinitite may find herself learning fisticuffs. Then there is the fitness angle. If exercise does anything for ships, and Trinitite spends her days walking, working, hunting down and hiding some scrap reserves for herself... and the average shipgirl spends much of their time on long patrols relying upon their rigging to propel them while they stand around sleeping... well...
The hair was wrong. The clothes were wrong. The skin, the expression, the way she held herself, even something subtle about her displacement, wrong wrong wrong and all wrong! But she would know that face anywhere. It was dangerous, it was stupid, but she had to, she couldn't leave, not when she was so close. She pulled open the warehouse door and eyed up the opposing fleet. There was a net hung from posts, three destroyers watching from the flanks, a cruiser and a battleship on the near side of the net, holding some sort of wide bats and a bright ball with a cone on it, and on the far side of the net? A carrier, and... and she had to get there.
As they turned to look, she braced against a support beam and, to the grinding of metal behind her, launched a torpedo plane. Amongst the slowest of her craft and with no heavy ordnance loaded, it could just barely operate in the cramped warehouse. The battleship spoke up "Hey? Who are... What?". Already turning around, she gripped the bent support beam, wrenched out out of the ground, and then twisted it from the roof to slowly let its own weight carry it through a lazy swipe. The cruiser had been advancing while the others were looking on confused but stopped to block the incoming beam. The light capital skidded a moment before falling and skipping along the ground to bounce out of a dent her stomach left in a beam across the room before struggling to rise, hurling much of her cargo overboard, then collapsing sideways with a faint groan. An enraged battleship was now charging at her, fist drawn back, as a pack of destroyers formed up amidst strafing runs from her bomber. A step outside the punch, a slap at the face with her off-hand, stamp on a foot, base of palm firmly into chin, step forward and heave knee into gearbox, before grabbing an arm, twisting it (and the unfortunate battleship) backwards and lift until the sound of tortured metal straining rises.
One of the destroyers had tried to use its A.A. against the bomber and was now across the room, sprawled on the ground, permanently swearing off orientations of the vertical persuasion after having been spun at an absurd rate. Destroyers were closing in, with... with support behind them... the other carrier bracing against a beam, rifle raised, and- """Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyy!""" a flight of dive bombers flew past her bridge and out through the wall with a clattering of propeller blades hurled across the room largely missed for the sound of a carrier flipping around the side of a torn beam and being thrown, spinning head around feet sideways, through the wall of the warehouse. She kicked the battleship forwards, the encroaching formation scatting from instinctive fear of collision as she stepped forwards, grabbed the destroyers' arms and swung them to meet behind her with cries before hauling them forwards to stumble to the ground in a heap on top of a battleship that had almost gotten its feet back under itself.
She then stepped forward and ducked under a fist, sent her arms forward, and heard a startled yelp as she hugged the most important person in the world. Another yelp followed soon after as a hug turned into a hoist and Saratoga was over Trinitite's shoulder as the latter strode out into the night, to the sound of crying escorts and moaning capitals...
Wait.
I have seen comments towards romance and that the author might approach it with background characters. They are, of course, entitled to do so and I applaud the idea that all stories deserve to exist, but I would be bothered if I didn't say my piece. I dislike shipgirl romance. They seem somewhat fundamentally inhuman, and while I am not opposed to the existence and enjoyment of xenophiliafictions, I do worry about relationships where expectations do not match, and when people think differently, expectations are difficult to match.
Then there is the matter of children. What sort of human parent would let their human preteen go on a brief 100 kilometre cruise along the coast? How many human parents could tell themselves that their child is not human? Can a human parent survive a ship's play?
Ships are sturdy, human infants are not, and human infants are reckless, is it really safe to put them together? When every rubbed cheek, every bounce, every tucked blanket, every patted hair, every tightened shoe has whatever millions of horsepower behind it? Would a ship's attitude to life really be healthy for a human child to grow up with? What of ships as single parents of humans?
Ships do not make biological sense, I dread to think what a hybrid would be like.
As to the less "romantic" relationships... Skipping over the old Superman debate, I have but a single word: "Hey!". No, wait! Bad joke version! Shipgirls are already full of seamen. Does an ahistoric abyssal shipgirl count as their crew's mother?
And then there is all of the awkwardness of shipgirls not aging...
Then there is the matter of children. What sort of human parent would let their human preteen go on a brief 100 kilometre cruise along the coast? How many human parents could tell themselves that their child is not human? Can a human parent survive a ship's play?
Ships are sturdy, human infants are not, and human infants are reckless, is it really safe to put them together? When every rubbed cheek, every bounce, every tucked blanket, every patted hair, every tightened shoe has whatever millions of horsepower behind it? Would a ship's attitude to life really be healthy for a human child to grow up with? What of ships as single parents of humans?
Ships do not make biological sense, I dread to think what a hybrid would be like.
As to the less "romantic" relationships... Skipping over the old Superman debate, I have but a single word: "Hey!". No, wait! Bad joke version! Shipgirls are already full of seamen. Does an ahistoric abyssal shipgirl count as their crew's mother?
And then there is all of the awkwardness of shipgirls not aging...
It occurs to me that Trinitite may find herself encountering more physical challenges than her peers. Between the uncouth types she might meet when looking for work sans identification, to any military encounters she might have, to learning to avoid harming civilians, to any preparations she might make in expectation to being ambushed on land... Trinitite may find herself learning fisticuffs. Then there is the fitness angle. If exercise does anything for ships, and Trinitite spends her days walking, working, hunting down and hiding some scrap reserves for herself... and the average shipgirl spends much of their time on long patrols relying upon their rigging to propel them while they stand around sleeping... well...
The hair was wrong. The clothes were wrong. The skin, the expression, the way she held herself, even something subtle about her displacement, wrong wrong wrong and all wrong! But she would know that face anywhere. It was dangerous, it was stupid, but she had to, she couldn't leave, not when she was so close. She pulled open the warehouse door and eyed up the opposing fleet. There was a net hung from posts, three destroyers watching from the flanks, a cruiser and a battleship on the near side of the net, holding some sort of wide bats and a bright ball with a cone on it, and on the far side of the net? A carrier, and... and she had to get there.
As they turned to look, she braced against a support beam and, to the grinding of metal behind her, launched a torpedo plane. Amongst the slowest of her craft and with no heavy ordnance loaded, it could just barely operate in the cramped warehouse. The battleship spoke up "Hey? Who are... What?". Already turning around, she gripped the bent support beam, wrenched out out of the ground, and then twisted it from the roof to slowly let its own weight carry it through a lazy swipe. The cruiser had been advancing while the others were looking on confused but stopped to block the incoming beam. The light capital skidded a moment before falling and skipping along the ground to bounce out of a dent her stomach left in a beam across the room before struggling to rise, hurling much of her cargo overboard, then collapsing sideways with a faint groan. An enraged battleship was now charging at her, fist drawn back, as a pack of destroyers formed up amidst strafing runs from her bomber. A step outside the punch, a slap at the face with her off-hand, stamp on a foot, base of palm firmly into chin, step forward and heave knee into gearbox, before grabbing an arm, twisting it (and the unfortunate battleship) backwards and lift until the sound of tortured metal straining rises.
One of the destroyers had tried to use its A.A. against the bomber and was now across the room, sprawled on the ground, permanently swearing off orientations of the vertical persuasion after having been spun at an absurd rate. Destroyers were closing in, with... with support behind them... the other carrier bracing against a beam, rifle raised, and- """Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyy!""" a flight of dive bombers flew past her bridge and out through the wall with a clattering of propeller blades hurled across the room largely missed for the sound of a carrier flipping around the side of a torn beam and being thrown, spinning head around feet sideways, through the wall of the warehouse. She kicked the battleship forwards, the encroaching formation scatting from instinctive fear of collision as she stepped forwards, grabbed the destroyers' arms and swung them to meet behind her with cries before hauling them forwards to stumble to the ground in a heap on top of a battleship that had almost gotten its feet back under itself.
She then stepped forward and ducked under a fist, sent her arms forward, and heard a startled yelp as she hugged the most important person in the world. Another yelp followed soon after as a hug turned into a hoist and Saratoga was over Trinitite's shoulder as the latter strode out into the night, to the sound of crying escorts and moaning capitals...
Wait.
Are they...? Oh no, they are. They're lamenting. Oh no, no no no no...
"What is best at sea Wonan?"
"To swarm your enemies, see them diven beneath you, and to hear the lamentations of their warships!"
"To swarm your enemies, see them diven beneath you, and to hear the lamentations of their warships!"
22: Orientation
PyrrhicSteel
Look natural.
- Location
- Idaho
A few hours ago, the rain had petered out. A low wind lofted through the trees, drying Trinitite's clothes as she wandered through the world of humans. Thankfully, her new jacket protected her shirt, retaining a pleasant layer of moisture as she walked. The sun hadn't cleared the eastern horizon yet, but it's light had cast the clouds above in sharp relief. Even with the light from passing vehicles and the lights lining the street obstructing the light, the view had the abyssal standing in awe.
It wasn't an alien sight to the Carrier. In several Abyssal-held locations, sunrise and sunset was the only time the land got direct sunlight. Even when a Princess's unique weather extended over the horizon, one didn't have to cruise far to watch the sun peeking over the ocean, painting the sky red and highlighting dark sheets of rain in brilliant orange.
Here, the sun was hidden by buildings and trees, and the nearby streetlights spoiled the effect somewhat, but she didn't mind. Without her interior lighting, she needed those to ensure her island crew had some light to work in, and even with the light's interference, the sight sucked the air out of her boilers.
Focusing on the sky had forced her to stop, her rangefinders glued upwards as she watched the clouds brighten. With half an hour before she had to report to the construction site and with the Abyssal only a few miles away, she had plenty of time to enjoy the view.
After leaving the library, Trinitite had ultimately decided against scouting Everett. Doing it personally was a serious risk, especially if she encountered a wandering enemy ship. A squad from her marine contingent could watch the bay with a lower profile, and she ultimately planned on such a mission, but as they were now?
She had much more experience on land than her marines did. They had no priority when her mother was teaching her the basics of naval warfare, and what little training they had done hadn't involved stealth, hiding, or reconnaissance at all. If anything, Trinitite's marine contingent could be considered an auxiliary damage control crew, rather than any kind of soldiers.
She could try later, when the much less risky option of using the library's resources had been better explored. Hopefully by then, Her marines could get some evasion training in. She'd need them for propper reconnaissance eventually, after all.
She couldn't stand and watch forever, though. Many abyssal princesses looked for any reason to punish their subjects, and falling behind schedule was a great excuse for them to act on their frustrations.
Torpedo damage? Remind me why you have a destroyer screen?
No. Being late to her new assignment wouldn't do at all.
Without a fleet of workers swarming over the construction site, it looked much less hopeful. From this angle Trinitite couldn't see over the fence surrounding the site, but judging by silence as she approached the site, she knew the view on the other side of that fence would be completely different. Even the street was empty. So far, she could count the number of active vehicles she'd passed in the last hour on one hand.
It was one of the more surreal aspects of human society. Her crew ran in shifts to keep her active, meaning after spending weeks cruising at sea, fighting through sporadic battles, and stumbling through a forest, she'd only needed a few hours of sleep, and she knew the enemy's ships, steel-hull or no, acted the same way. On land, however, everyone seemed to be only working in one or two shifts, with almost all humans disappearing into their quarters when things got dark.
She wasn't complaining: The fact so much of the city periodically let their guard down might have been one of the only reasons she made it so far, but now that she had time to think about it, witnessing entire cities… power down every night was a little unnerving. For a nation at war, wasn't that inefficient? It was one of those issues she didn't dare speculate on, until she'd gathered more intelligence on humans.
The temporary structure, labeled as the 'Site Office,' was quiet as well, but the nearby vehicle pool had three filled spots, so there had to be someone to meet her. Trinitite approached the front door, moving to press the button at its side like the instructions printed across it's front, but her hand paused inches away from the button.
Her chronometer read 6:11. Normally, being twenty minutes early to a position was a good thing, but Trinitite didn't fully trust her readings. In the Library the time had been an hour behind, forcing her to adjust her instruments. If battle damage meant she was an hour ahead, then she'd barely avoided being unacceptably late, meaning she could have opened the door to a beating, or worse, Dan could refuse to give her a job.
However, if the Library had been off, then she could be walking in a full hour early, long before her future commander was ready for her. Not as big as a deal, but if that incident with the Night Straight Princesses taught her anything, catching your superior off-guard and embarrassing them could be just as dangerous as failing their orders.
The Library was probably more accurate, as it hadn't been struck by a rocket, suffered an internal detonation, and been shelled by several warships, but it didn't feel like 06:12. Plus, jarring her chronometer might make it a little off, but by almost exactly an hour?
The door abruptly swung open, and Trinitite jerked backwards, A thin railing the only thing preventing her from tumbling down the two steps and onto the pavement. After recovering, Trinitite spared a glance at the rail, spending a split second to ensure she hadn't damaged it, before looking up to the now-open door.
"You're just standing there?" The imposing form of her future commander filled the doorway. The building's height, his thick jacket, and large helmet added to his already-impressive bulk. "Come in before you freeze to death!"
An excuse formed, then died, on Trinitite's lips, the abyssal meekly nodding before following the man inside. Deep, she'd tried to avoid embarrassment over her time of arrival, only to make herself look like an idiot by hesitating! She'd just have to hope the Foreman was feeling merciful and look over it.
As far as humans went, Dan Pratt was the most intimidating Trinitite had encountered so far. Maybe it was because of his authority, or because she'd only seen him inside this small building, but he always seemed bigger than she'd come to expect with humans. Obviously he didn't compare to her hull form, but at the moment Trinitite had to look up at her new commander.
"Is that the hire you were talking about?"
Trinitite's attention was drawn to another human in the room. The second man stood, shifting a cup of that bitter liquid to his off-hand and approaching the duo. Maybe it was his outfit, his thin shirt lending much less to his bulk than Dan's thick coat, but he seemed much lankier than his colleague.
"It is." Dan nodded, waving towards the other human. "Elizabeth, this is Thomas Sandoval, the Manager around here."
"I may be senior to Dan here, but he's going to be your boss." Thomas smiled thinly, extending his own hand. "I'll be ensuring we're under budget while he'll be keeping you in line."
Trinitite accepted the handshake, this time duplicating his motions instead of letting him guide her through the gesture.
"Huh, those are some pretty fancy gloves." He noted, releasing her hand. "Where did you get them?"
"Uh… I'm not sure." Trinitite replied, not entirely sure if she was lying. "You'd have to ask my Mother."
In a way, her gloves were a part of who she was. It wasn't like her rigging, which was literally an extension of her form, but until recently she'd never worn anything else. The human gloves she'd tried had been clunky, fragile, and uncomfortable, and as her regular gloves didn't seem that different she'd stuck with what she had. As for where it came from, where she came from?
Discussions about that sort of thing with her fleet-mates were entertaining, but never went anywhere. Besides, talking about such deep topics with humans might be possible, but she didn't think she could any time soon.
"If it has any sentimental value, I'd suggest you pocket it." Dan added. "A few weeks of work here are going to destroy those." They wouldn't, she knew, especially with her crew maintaining them, but Trinitite nodded anyways.
"I'll consider that."
The answer seemed to satisfy him, as Dan stepped forwards.
"How are your boots?"
"Uh…" Trinitite's answer died in her throat as the human's foot shot forwards, the man dilibriely stepping on her toe. Seemingly satisfied, Dan lifted his foot, before pressing on Trinitite's other boot.
"Seems solid." The Foreman nodded, satisfied.
That was a relief, considering the rough work she'd had to do to reinforce it. With how many different shoes she'd gained from the raid on the warehouse, Trinitite had thought one pair would have been protected, but after going through all her boots, she couldn't find anything with steel reinforcement. She'd had to rely on her crew to fill the need, utilizing damaged plating and her machine shop to reinforce the bulkiest shoes she had. It wasn't comfortable at all, and the dark abyssal steel would be obvious if her boot was damaged, but it would do for now.
"You'll need a helmet and vest, as well." Dan continued. "I'll see if we have anything that fits you." The human took a seat behind another desk, presumably his duty station. "In the meantime, let's get you up to speed."
When Trinitite had first entered the office, Dan had been staring at what had seemed to be a steel case, although she hadn't gotten a good look at its contents. Now, as the man reopened it, the Abyssal couldn't help but lean forwards, curious of its contents.
Hmm, that looked like the instrument she'd seen in the library. Was this supposed to connect to a computer, or…
He flipped the thin device around, revealing a glowing display. This time, the Wo-class found it easy to hide her surprise. So this was a computer as well? She'd never thought she'd ask herself this question, but with how slim it was, why were computers at the library so big? At this point, Trinitite was starting to think she should start asking what humans couldn't do with technology, rather than what they could.
"Do you have headphones?" Dan must have been expecting Trinitite to shake her head, because he immediately produced a rolled wire, plugging one end into the computer and handing the other end to Trinitite.
"These go in my ears?" She confirmed, looking over the devices on the other end of the split wire. When she'd heard 'headphones,' she expected something more along the line of what the Supply Depot Princess wore, but these made enough sense. Plug one end into the computer, and the other to herself. Not much different than any other cable, right?
The human nodded. "You'll need to watch a few videos discussing safety on the jobsite. Once you're done, let me know, and I'll ask you a few questions about the rules. Pass my test, and I'll let you out there." He started doing something on the computer, but Trinitite's eyes found her eyes focusing on the man's hands, rather than the display.
How the Deep did that pad work? The instrument in the library had made good sense to her: Move it, and it would move the indicator on the screen accordingly. The process of exactly how it worked was lost to her, but building a device which could do such a thing didn't seem particularly outlandish.
Detecting touch, though?
A memory from the Pacific Lilly returned, of bored human fishermen poking at an even smaller device on a table. The small fleet bearing down on her had prevented her from pondering the scene too much, but this must have used a similar system.
It didn't solve the mystery, but she guessed she shouldn't have been so surprised by it. Although…
What if it couldn't detect her fingers?
The human leaned forwards to enter text into the computer, his hands exploding into motion. It took all of the Abyssal's discipline to avoid showing her surprise as she watched in amazement as the man's hands danced across the portable console. Could all humans operate a computer that fast? If she tried inputting data that quickly, Trinitite would be more worried about tearing the device apart than getting anything spelled correctly. Would her cautious picking at the computer mark her as suspicious to other humans? Either she needed an excuse to avoid these machines, or a lot more experience.
Daniel paused, turning to look at Trinitite.
"You know how to use this, right?"
She eyed the computer like an armed bomb.
"I've had some practice." Trinitite finally admitted, trying to remember the smaller details of her research last night.
"But not on your island?" The human queried, his face straight.
"Yeah."
"Well," He continued, waving towards the machine's display, "I've got two videos for you to watch. Follow each of these links, watch the video all the way through, then let me know. I'll ask you a few questions, see if you remembered everything important. Pass my test? I'll let you out there. Understood?"
"Aye aye." Trinitite replied, snapping a subdued salute. Instead of dismissing it or ignoring it, as she'd expected from other princesses, the human actually flinched, momentary surprise filling his face. Had she messed up? Now that she was thinking about it, there were some extra rules about saluting inside, but as a ship who never spent much time under a roof, she couldn't remember her mother's lessons on them.
Dan looked away, exchanging a quick glance with Thomas, but in the brief moment Trinitite couldn't make out either of their expressions. A simple salute couldn't have been that bad, right? The split second of silence seemed to drag, and Trinitite felt her salute become more rigid as she anticipated a response.
Finally, her prospective boss chuckled.
"You don't need to be that formal, here." he replied, shaking his head. "A simple 'Yes' or 'Sure, boss' will do fine."
"Oka- Sure, Boss." She stuttered, lowering the salute.
"Okay works too." He sighed, stepping away from the device and motioning to a nearby chair. Obliging, Trinitite manned the device, giving the pad an experimental poke. The image moved accordingly, thank the deep, and Trinitite moved the point of the familiar arrow symbol over the two links.
Construction Safety Basics
Sexual Harassment Prevention
Harassment? Did they have to worry about raiders? Suddenly, the importance of this briefing became much more understandable. Sure, Dan could explain every possible threat to her, but she knew how dangerous a miscommunication could be. A single briefing, made once and approved by the commander, would be much safer.
Well, best to get started. How did you click on one of these devices? Dan had tapped one of the corners of the pad. It should be left one, like in the library, right?
Her hunch was proved correct, as the screen changed again. Headphones in, Trinitite found a nearby chair to use, sitting for a long briefing.
A few months ago, Trinitite had been tasked by the Southern War princess to deliver vital fuel, ammunition, and raw material to the princess at Hong Kong. She couldn't point to one moment which clued her in, but a series of smaller incidents, such as the occasional avoided question or the suspicious lack of human raids, had set the Wo-class on edge. Throughout the mission, a feeling of doom had started in her keel, weighing heavier and heavier until the Abyssal was certain she was cruising lower in the water than normal.
That feeling of doom had eventually saved her fleet, as after some discussion with her sisters, Firestorm sent one of her scouts into the storm surrounding the island. Like the three had expected, it had been downed shortly after entering the maelstrom, but to her horror it hadn't met it's fate due to poor conditions or a jumpy patrol, but by one of six human battleships. After beating a hasty retreat back to the Southern War Princess's abode, it was discovered that the humans had been shelling Hong Kong for some time now, and the Southern War Princesses' little mission had been an attempt to lure the Crossroads fleet into open combat with human forces.
As she sat, staring at the display, Trinitite couldn't shake the same feeling. She was missing something very important, and she didn't have the time to run back to the library and figure out what.
Something about the way the humans spoke, approached, and touched each other in the second video set off alarms in the Abyssal's mind, but she was having trouble figuring out why. The film had a fairly standard setup: A series of scenarios were depicted, showing one or many aggressors attempting to do… something to a defending human. Trinitite wasn't a stranger to belittling and demeaning comments, but these had an edge to them, a layer Trinitite wasn't aware of that the defending human certainly was.
It must have had to do with that word: Sexual. That single qualifier had to be what made this training so important, if she could figure out what it meant. If only she hadn't gotten so distracted yesterday!
Trinitite leaned backwards, sighing. The second video was important, she was sure, but it's actual instructions boiled down to "Report to your supervisor." The first video, however, seemed the most pressing.
It had been… dense. Trinitite hoped some of her officers had been taking notes, because Trinitite already knew she'd forgotten something important. Was she supposed to bring her own glasses, or were they supposed to be provided to her? How exactly did she tie up her hair? How much concrete was she going to be working with, and since she didn't remember any rubber boots in the warehouse she raided, where was she supposed to get them?
With no film playing, she could hear the office's doors opening before reports from her lookouts came in. She'd been ignoring the contact reports, instead focusing on the oddities in front of her. Now, however, she found herself giving them more attention.
Contact, human, door two. Big, red coat, armed with white cup.
Recognizing the description, Trinitite turned, catching her future boss's gaze. Cup in hand, Dan spoke.
"You done?" Even though he walked casually, the human's large stride meant he covered the distance between the two surprisingly quickly.
"Yes." She nodded, reminding herself not to salute as she stood. "It's a lot of information, though."
"It's a dangerous job." He replied, pointing over his shoulder. "There are hundreds of ways to get yourself hurt out there. Most of the time, you'll be fine if you listen to your supervisor, but you need to pay attention if you want to stay out of trouble." Dan waved his hand over Trinitite. "Once I get you a helmet and vest, what do you need to fix before I let you out there?"
"Hmm…" Trinitite mumbled, looking down at herself. "I need to tuck my pant legs into my boots."
"That wouldn't hurt," the big human admitted, shaking his head. "But it wasn't what I was talking about."
"Oh." Trinitite exhaled, the pressure in her active boiler increasing. What was he looking for? Trinitite couldn't shake the feeling that the answer was glaringly obvious, yet she was drawing a blank. Looking back at her perspective commander, Trinitite followed his gaze towards her… forehead? Her hand rose, brushing against her hair.
"Right. I need to tie this up?"
"Correct." He nodded, and fell silent. Trinitite returned his stare, waiting for the next question. It didn't come, one second, then two, dragging on as she returned her boss's stare. "You don't have a hair tie, do you?"
"No?"
Why did he say it like that? Were all humans supposed to have a hair tie?
"Thought so." He replied, his disappointed sigh familiar to the Abyssal. "Hey, Thomas."
"Yeah?" The manager replied, looking up from his display.
"Could I get a rubber band?"
"Sure." He replied, leaning forwards and shuffling through a container Trinitite couldn't see. In less than a second, he rose again. "Catch."
Suddenly, Trinitite's lookouts noticed an incoming projectile. A quick guess put the object on a trajectory to collide with her, and instinctively Trinitite threw herself into evasive maneuvers. With a quick push, the Aircraft carrier dove to the side, dodging the attack…
…and colliding with the back of the chair she'd been using, sending both the chair and herself into a less-than-graceful tumble. With a clunk and a thud, Trinitite fell to the floor, her plans for a graceful landing ruined.
Silence filled the room as the aircraft regained her bearing, her mind reeling. She'd just been attacked by one of her superiors. Had it been a punishment for not being prepared, or another element of this test? Maybe the projectile had been harmless, especially to a capital ship like her, but there were rumors of Princesses who literally threw depth charges at subordinates they didn't like.
She slowly stood, analyzing the faces of her perspective commanders. They stared back at her, eyes wide as they watched her stand.
"You okay?" The thinner of the two asked, his display forgotten. So he hadn't thought she'd dodge if he threw something at her? Sure, humans didn't have secondary guns, or depth charges, or torpedo launchers, or aircraft, but that didn't mean they couldn't throw dangerous projectiles at her. What were they expecting?
"I'm fine." She replied, managing to keep her unexpected resentment out of her statement. She couldn't keep herself from pouting, however, when she heard a chuckle from Dan.
"Damn." Her boss commented. "I know I told 'ya to pay attention, but you don't have to reenact the Matrix when someone throws a rubber band."
Trinitite ignored her boss, hoping the dark flush she knew was flooding her cheeks didn't look too unnatural. Instead, the Abyssal searched for the object, finding a simple band of rubber. She wasn't sure if there was any speed at which it could damage her, but after Bikini, she wasn't going to take any hit she could avoid. Lets see, it was falling by the time it would have hit her, meaning it wouldn't have landed much farther than she'd been… There.
"I'll get you everything else, then keep questioning you during the tour." Trinitite looked up, seeing her boss's teasing had abruptly ended. Odd, she was used to ships or installations doubling down when they had a subordinate embarrassed like that. As the human turned and left again, she watched him leave, still puzzled about his sudden change. It didn't seem too related to that Harassment film she'd watched, but maybe his restraint had to do with avoiding a, what was it called? A lawsuit? Something else to look up later, she supposed.
Sighing, she picked the chair back up, taking a seat while focusing her attention back on the rubber band. At this point, it was looking like she was never going to understand humans. Good thing she only had to pretend to do so.
Now, she knew plenty of princesses who tied their hair up, but how could she do it in such a way to keep it all in her helmet?
It wasn't an alien sight to the Carrier. In several Abyssal-held locations, sunrise and sunset was the only time the land got direct sunlight. Even when a Princess's unique weather extended over the horizon, one didn't have to cruise far to watch the sun peeking over the ocean, painting the sky red and highlighting dark sheets of rain in brilliant orange.
Here, the sun was hidden by buildings and trees, and the nearby streetlights spoiled the effect somewhat, but she didn't mind. Without her interior lighting, she needed those to ensure her island crew had some light to work in, and even with the light's interference, the sight sucked the air out of her boilers.
Focusing on the sky had forced her to stop, her rangefinders glued upwards as she watched the clouds brighten. With half an hour before she had to report to the construction site and with the Abyssal only a few miles away, she had plenty of time to enjoy the view.
After leaving the library, Trinitite had ultimately decided against scouting Everett. Doing it personally was a serious risk, especially if she encountered a wandering enemy ship. A squad from her marine contingent could watch the bay with a lower profile, and she ultimately planned on such a mission, but as they were now?
She had much more experience on land than her marines did. They had no priority when her mother was teaching her the basics of naval warfare, and what little training they had done hadn't involved stealth, hiding, or reconnaissance at all. If anything, Trinitite's marine contingent could be considered an auxiliary damage control crew, rather than any kind of soldiers.
She could try later, when the much less risky option of using the library's resources had been better explored. Hopefully by then, Her marines could get some evasion training in. She'd need them for propper reconnaissance eventually, after all.
She couldn't stand and watch forever, though. Many abyssal princesses looked for any reason to punish their subjects, and falling behind schedule was a great excuse for them to act on their frustrations.
Torpedo damage? Remind me why you have a destroyer screen?
No. Being late to her new assignment wouldn't do at all.
Without a fleet of workers swarming over the construction site, it looked much less hopeful. From this angle Trinitite couldn't see over the fence surrounding the site, but judging by silence as she approached the site, she knew the view on the other side of that fence would be completely different. Even the street was empty. So far, she could count the number of active vehicles she'd passed in the last hour on one hand.
It was one of the more surreal aspects of human society. Her crew ran in shifts to keep her active, meaning after spending weeks cruising at sea, fighting through sporadic battles, and stumbling through a forest, she'd only needed a few hours of sleep, and she knew the enemy's ships, steel-hull or no, acted the same way. On land, however, everyone seemed to be only working in one or two shifts, with almost all humans disappearing into their quarters when things got dark.
She wasn't complaining: The fact so much of the city periodically let their guard down might have been one of the only reasons she made it so far, but now that she had time to think about it, witnessing entire cities… power down every night was a little unnerving. For a nation at war, wasn't that inefficient? It was one of those issues she didn't dare speculate on, until she'd gathered more intelligence on humans.
The temporary structure, labeled as the 'Site Office,' was quiet as well, but the nearby vehicle pool had three filled spots, so there had to be someone to meet her. Trinitite approached the front door, moving to press the button at its side like the instructions printed across it's front, but her hand paused inches away from the button.
Her chronometer read 6:11. Normally, being twenty minutes early to a position was a good thing, but Trinitite didn't fully trust her readings. In the Library the time had been an hour behind, forcing her to adjust her instruments. If battle damage meant she was an hour ahead, then she'd barely avoided being unacceptably late, meaning she could have opened the door to a beating, or worse, Dan could refuse to give her a job.
However, if the Library had been off, then she could be walking in a full hour early, long before her future commander was ready for her. Not as big as a deal, but if that incident with the Night Straight Princesses taught her anything, catching your superior off-guard and embarrassing them could be just as dangerous as failing their orders.
The Library was probably more accurate, as it hadn't been struck by a rocket, suffered an internal detonation, and been shelled by several warships, but it didn't feel like 06:12. Plus, jarring her chronometer might make it a little off, but by almost exactly an hour?
The door abruptly swung open, and Trinitite jerked backwards, A thin railing the only thing preventing her from tumbling down the two steps and onto the pavement. After recovering, Trinitite spared a glance at the rail, spending a split second to ensure she hadn't damaged it, before looking up to the now-open door.
"You're just standing there?" The imposing form of her future commander filled the doorway. The building's height, his thick jacket, and large helmet added to his already-impressive bulk. "Come in before you freeze to death!"
An excuse formed, then died, on Trinitite's lips, the abyssal meekly nodding before following the man inside. Deep, she'd tried to avoid embarrassment over her time of arrival, only to make herself look like an idiot by hesitating! She'd just have to hope the Foreman was feeling merciful and look over it.
As far as humans went, Dan Pratt was the most intimidating Trinitite had encountered so far. Maybe it was because of his authority, or because she'd only seen him inside this small building, but he always seemed bigger than she'd come to expect with humans. Obviously he didn't compare to her hull form, but at the moment Trinitite had to look up at her new commander.
"Is that the hire you were talking about?"
Trinitite's attention was drawn to another human in the room. The second man stood, shifting a cup of that bitter liquid to his off-hand and approaching the duo. Maybe it was his outfit, his thin shirt lending much less to his bulk than Dan's thick coat, but he seemed much lankier than his colleague.
"It is." Dan nodded, waving towards the other human. "Elizabeth, this is Thomas Sandoval, the Manager around here."
"I may be senior to Dan here, but he's going to be your boss." Thomas smiled thinly, extending his own hand. "I'll be ensuring we're under budget while he'll be keeping you in line."
Trinitite accepted the handshake, this time duplicating his motions instead of letting him guide her through the gesture.
"Huh, those are some pretty fancy gloves." He noted, releasing her hand. "Where did you get them?"
"Uh… I'm not sure." Trinitite replied, not entirely sure if she was lying. "You'd have to ask my Mother."
In a way, her gloves were a part of who she was. It wasn't like her rigging, which was literally an extension of her form, but until recently she'd never worn anything else. The human gloves she'd tried had been clunky, fragile, and uncomfortable, and as her regular gloves didn't seem that different she'd stuck with what she had. As for where it came from, where she came from?
Discussions about that sort of thing with her fleet-mates were entertaining, but never went anywhere. Besides, talking about such deep topics with humans might be possible, but she didn't think she could any time soon.
"If it has any sentimental value, I'd suggest you pocket it." Dan added. "A few weeks of work here are going to destroy those." They wouldn't, she knew, especially with her crew maintaining them, but Trinitite nodded anyways.
"I'll consider that."
The answer seemed to satisfy him, as Dan stepped forwards.
"How are your boots?"
"Uh…" Trinitite's answer died in her throat as the human's foot shot forwards, the man dilibriely stepping on her toe. Seemingly satisfied, Dan lifted his foot, before pressing on Trinitite's other boot.
"Seems solid." The Foreman nodded, satisfied.
That was a relief, considering the rough work she'd had to do to reinforce it. With how many different shoes she'd gained from the raid on the warehouse, Trinitite had thought one pair would have been protected, but after going through all her boots, she couldn't find anything with steel reinforcement. She'd had to rely on her crew to fill the need, utilizing damaged plating and her machine shop to reinforce the bulkiest shoes she had. It wasn't comfortable at all, and the dark abyssal steel would be obvious if her boot was damaged, but it would do for now.
"You'll need a helmet and vest, as well." Dan continued. "I'll see if we have anything that fits you." The human took a seat behind another desk, presumably his duty station. "In the meantime, let's get you up to speed."
When Trinitite had first entered the office, Dan had been staring at what had seemed to be a steel case, although she hadn't gotten a good look at its contents. Now, as the man reopened it, the Abyssal couldn't help but lean forwards, curious of its contents.
Hmm, that looked like the instrument she'd seen in the library. Was this supposed to connect to a computer, or…
He flipped the thin device around, revealing a glowing display. This time, the Wo-class found it easy to hide her surprise. So this was a computer as well? She'd never thought she'd ask herself this question, but with how slim it was, why were computers at the library so big? At this point, Trinitite was starting to think she should start asking what humans couldn't do with technology, rather than what they could.
"Do you have headphones?" Dan must have been expecting Trinitite to shake her head, because he immediately produced a rolled wire, plugging one end into the computer and handing the other end to Trinitite.
"These go in my ears?" She confirmed, looking over the devices on the other end of the split wire. When she'd heard 'headphones,' she expected something more along the line of what the Supply Depot Princess wore, but these made enough sense. Plug one end into the computer, and the other to herself. Not much different than any other cable, right?
The human nodded. "You'll need to watch a few videos discussing safety on the jobsite. Once you're done, let me know, and I'll ask you a few questions about the rules. Pass my test, and I'll let you out there." He started doing something on the computer, but Trinitite's eyes found her eyes focusing on the man's hands, rather than the display.
How the Deep did that pad work? The instrument in the library had made good sense to her: Move it, and it would move the indicator on the screen accordingly. The process of exactly how it worked was lost to her, but building a device which could do such a thing didn't seem particularly outlandish.
Detecting touch, though?
A memory from the Pacific Lilly returned, of bored human fishermen poking at an even smaller device on a table. The small fleet bearing down on her had prevented her from pondering the scene too much, but this must have used a similar system.
It didn't solve the mystery, but she guessed she shouldn't have been so surprised by it. Although…
What if it couldn't detect her fingers?
The human leaned forwards to enter text into the computer, his hands exploding into motion. It took all of the Abyssal's discipline to avoid showing her surprise as she watched in amazement as the man's hands danced across the portable console. Could all humans operate a computer that fast? If she tried inputting data that quickly, Trinitite would be more worried about tearing the device apart than getting anything spelled correctly. Would her cautious picking at the computer mark her as suspicious to other humans? Either she needed an excuse to avoid these machines, or a lot more experience.
Daniel paused, turning to look at Trinitite.
"You know how to use this, right?"
She eyed the computer like an armed bomb.
"I've had some practice." Trinitite finally admitted, trying to remember the smaller details of her research last night.
"But not on your island?" The human queried, his face straight.
"Yeah."
"Well," He continued, waving towards the machine's display, "I've got two videos for you to watch. Follow each of these links, watch the video all the way through, then let me know. I'll ask you a few questions, see if you remembered everything important. Pass my test? I'll let you out there. Understood?"
"Aye aye." Trinitite replied, snapping a subdued salute. Instead of dismissing it or ignoring it, as she'd expected from other princesses, the human actually flinched, momentary surprise filling his face. Had she messed up? Now that she was thinking about it, there were some extra rules about saluting inside, but as a ship who never spent much time under a roof, she couldn't remember her mother's lessons on them.
Dan looked away, exchanging a quick glance with Thomas, but in the brief moment Trinitite couldn't make out either of their expressions. A simple salute couldn't have been that bad, right? The split second of silence seemed to drag, and Trinitite felt her salute become more rigid as she anticipated a response.
Finally, her prospective boss chuckled.
"You don't need to be that formal, here." he replied, shaking his head. "A simple 'Yes' or 'Sure, boss' will do fine."
"Oka- Sure, Boss." She stuttered, lowering the salute.
"Okay works too." He sighed, stepping away from the device and motioning to a nearby chair. Obliging, Trinitite manned the device, giving the pad an experimental poke. The image moved accordingly, thank the deep, and Trinitite moved the point of the familiar arrow symbol over the two links.
Construction Safety Basics
Sexual Harassment Prevention
Harassment? Did they have to worry about raiders? Suddenly, the importance of this briefing became much more understandable. Sure, Dan could explain every possible threat to her, but she knew how dangerous a miscommunication could be. A single briefing, made once and approved by the commander, would be much safer.
Well, best to get started. How did you click on one of these devices? Dan had tapped one of the corners of the pad. It should be left one, like in the library, right?
Her hunch was proved correct, as the screen changed again. Headphones in, Trinitite found a nearby chair to use, sitting for a long briefing.
- - -
A few months ago, Trinitite had been tasked by the Southern War princess to deliver vital fuel, ammunition, and raw material to the princess at Hong Kong. She couldn't point to one moment which clued her in, but a series of smaller incidents, such as the occasional avoided question or the suspicious lack of human raids, had set the Wo-class on edge. Throughout the mission, a feeling of doom had started in her keel, weighing heavier and heavier until the Abyssal was certain she was cruising lower in the water than normal.
That feeling of doom had eventually saved her fleet, as after some discussion with her sisters, Firestorm sent one of her scouts into the storm surrounding the island. Like the three had expected, it had been downed shortly after entering the maelstrom, but to her horror it hadn't met it's fate due to poor conditions or a jumpy patrol, but by one of six human battleships. After beating a hasty retreat back to the Southern War Princess's abode, it was discovered that the humans had been shelling Hong Kong for some time now, and the Southern War Princesses' little mission had been an attempt to lure the Crossroads fleet into open combat with human forces.
As she sat, staring at the display, Trinitite couldn't shake the same feeling. She was missing something very important, and she didn't have the time to run back to the library and figure out what.
Something about the way the humans spoke, approached, and touched each other in the second video set off alarms in the Abyssal's mind, but she was having trouble figuring out why. The film had a fairly standard setup: A series of scenarios were depicted, showing one or many aggressors attempting to do… something to a defending human. Trinitite wasn't a stranger to belittling and demeaning comments, but these had an edge to them, a layer Trinitite wasn't aware of that the defending human certainly was.
It must have had to do with that word: Sexual. That single qualifier had to be what made this training so important, if she could figure out what it meant. If only she hadn't gotten so distracted yesterday!
Trinitite leaned backwards, sighing. The second video was important, she was sure, but it's actual instructions boiled down to "Report to your supervisor." The first video, however, seemed the most pressing.
It had been… dense. Trinitite hoped some of her officers had been taking notes, because Trinitite already knew she'd forgotten something important. Was she supposed to bring her own glasses, or were they supposed to be provided to her? How exactly did she tie up her hair? How much concrete was she going to be working with, and since she didn't remember any rubber boots in the warehouse she raided, where was she supposed to get them?
With no film playing, she could hear the office's doors opening before reports from her lookouts came in. She'd been ignoring the contact reports, instead focusing on the oddities in front of her. Now, however, she found herself giving them more attention.
Contact, human, door two. Big, red coat, armed with white cup.
Recognizing the description, Trinitite turned, catching her future boss's gaze. Cup in hand, Dan spoke.
"You done?" Even though he walked casually, the human's large stride meant he covered the distance between the two surprisingly quickly.
"Yes." She nodded, reminding herself not to salute as she stood. "It's a lot of information, though."
"It's a dangerous job." He replied, pointing over his shoulder. "There are hundreds of ways to get yourself hurt out there. Most of the time, you'll be fine if you listen to your supervisor, but you need to pay attention if you want to stay out of trouble." Dan waved his hand over Trinitite. "Once I get you a helmet and vest, what do you need to fix before I let you out there?"
"Hmm…" Trinitite mumbled, looking down at herself. "I need to tuck my pant legs into my boots."
"That wouldn't hurt," the big human admitted, shaking his head. "But it wasn't what I was talking about."
"Oh." Trinitite exhaled, the pressure in her active boiler increasing. What was he looking for? Trinitite couldn't shake the feeling that the answer was glaringly obvious, yet she was drawing a blank. Looking back at her perspective commander, Trinitite followed his gaze towards her… forehead? Her hand rose, brushing against her hair.
"Right. I need to tie this up?"
"Correct." He nodded, and fell silent. Trinitite returned his stare, waiting for the next question. It didn't come, one second, then two, dragging on as she returned her boss's stare. "You don't have a hair tie, do you?"
"No?"
Why did he say it like that? Were all humans supposed to have a hair tie?
"Thought so." He replied, his disappointed sigh familiar to the Abyssal. "Hey, Thomas."
"Yeah?" The manager replied, looking up from his display.
"Could I get a rubber band?"
"Sure." He replied, leaning forwards and shuffling through a container Trinitite couldn't see. In less than a second, he rose again. "Catch."
Suddenly, Trinitite's lookouts noticed an incoming projectile. A quick guess put the object on a trajectory to collide with her, and instinctively Trinitite threw herself into evasive maneuvers. With a quick push, the Aircraft carrier dove to the side, dodging the attack…
…and colliding with the back of the chair she'd been using, sending both the chair and herself into a less-than-graceful tumble. With a clunk and a thud, Trinitite fell to the floor, her plans for a graceful landing ruined.
Silence filled the room as the aircraft regained her bearing, her mind reeling. She'd just been attacked by one of her superiors. Had it been a punishment for not being prepared, or another element of this test? Maybe the projectile had been harmless, especially to a capital ship like her, but there were rumors of Princesses who literally threw depth charges at subordinates they didn't like.
She slowly stood, analyzing the faces of her perspective commanders. They stared back at her, eyes wide as they watched her stand.
"You okay?" The thinner of the two asked, his display forgotten. So he hadn't thought she'd dodge if he threw something at her? Sure, humans didn't have secondary guns, or depth charges, or torpedo launchers, or aircraft, but that didn't mean they couldn't throw dangerous projectiles at her. What were they expecting?
"I'm fine." She replied, managing to keep her unexpected resentment out of her statement. She couldn't keep herself from pouting, however, when she heard a chuckle from Dan.
"Damn." Her boss commented. "I know I told 'ya to pay attention, but you don't have to reenact the Matrix when someone throws a rubber band."
Trinitite ignored her boss, hoping the dark flush she knew was flooding her cheeks didn't look too unnatural. Instead, the Abyssal searched for the object, finding a simple band of rubber. She wasn't sure if there was any speed at which it could damage her, but after Bikini, she wasn't going to take any hit she could avoid. Lets see, it was falling by the time it would have hit her, meaning it wouldn't have landed much farther than she'd been… There.
"I'll get you everything else, then keep questioning you during the tour." Trinitite looked up, seeing her boss's teasing had abruptly ended. Odd, she was used to ships or installations doubling down when they had a subordinate embarrassed like that. As the human turned and left again, she watched him leave, still puzzled about his sudden change. It didn't seem too related to that Harassment film she'd watched, but maybe his restraint had to do with avoiding a, what was it called? A lawsuit? Something else to look up later, she supposed.
Sighing, she picked the chair back up, taking a seat while focusing her attention back on the rubber band. At this point, it was looking like she was never going to understand humans. Good thing she only had to pretend to do so.
Now, she knew plenty of princesses who tied their hair up, but how could she do it in such a way to keep it all in her helmet?
Ayy, I'm back!
This chapter took a while, partially because 400-level Computer Science classes are pretty time consuming, partially because the subject of this chapter was a lot of bookkeeping and not much character or action, and partially because I started another project (homebrewing a political RPG, not another fanfic, although I do want to write more).
Next chapter introduces some new characters that I'm pretty exited to write, so it should come out faster, but after a delay like this I'm not exactly setting a high bar, am I?
This chapter took a while, partially because 400-level Computer Science classes are pretty time consuming, partially because the subject of this chapter was a lot of bookkeeping and not much character or action, and partially because I started another project (homebrewing a political RPG, not another fanfic, although I do want to write more).
Next chapter introduces some new characters that I'm pretty exited to write, so it should come out faster, but after a delay like this I'm not exactly setting a high bar, am I?
- Location
- A house
I wonder what conclusions he'll draw from her? I'm assuming at some point she gave her backstory to him, since they called her an islander.
Given her reaction to a rubberband being thrown at her and her penchant for standing in the rain in a seeming stupor, I'd probably think, if I didnt know that she was an eldritchh boat out of water, she had some kind of PTSD. Which I'm sure hes seen before, given his employees are also made of refugees.
On that note, I wonder how they'll react to her? Doubt any have seen a wo-class or even an abyssal up close, but on the off chance any of them have, they might find her hair a bit offputting. Although it will be under a helmet...
Anyway, looking forward to her first day of work and more internet surfing adventures with wo-chan~!
Given her reaction to a rubberband being thrown at her and her penchant for standing in the rain in a seeming stupor, I'd probably think, if I didnt know that she was an eldritchh boat out of water, she had some kind of PTSD. Which I'm sure hes seen before, given his employees are also made of refugees.
On that note, I wonder how they'll react to her? Doubt any have seen a wo-class or even an abyssal up close, but on the off chance any of them have, they might find her hair a bit offputting. Although it will be under a helmet...
Anyway, looking forward to her first day of work and more internet surfing adventures with wo-chan~!
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Pridakarbiter
Unseelie
- Location
- Arctis Tor
A story like this is my favorite kind. An inhuman or extraordinary individual trying to fit in with the normal world. Not quite managing it, not quite failing it, but just the idea of what kinds of conclusions people draw to explain all the weirdness is just so tantalizing!
beorn91
Ours mal léché
- Location
- France
The boss already begged Trinitite as a military brat. So they might also think that Trinie was abused as a child by an abusively strict parent not understanding the difference between being a Drill Sergeant and being a father or mother. Trinie roaming around naval bases while hiding from their personnel will only renforce the impression.
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- Location
- Elsewhere
"Okay Trinitite, you found me. What now?"
"I came to give you these."
"Wha- Notice of Failure to Comply with OSHA Regulations!?"
"Yes, when I was under your command, I was never issued a life vest. I was also never licensed to handle munitions."
"That's silly, you can't drown, and you were born knowing how to handle munitions."
"I also have this."
"Failure to Respect Religious Beliefs!?"
"Yes, I'm not sure if it perfectly applies, but I never felt one way or the other about humans, yet you insisted on ramming that 'kill all humans' philosophy down my throat at every opportunity."
"We were Abyssals! Anyway, I'm different now... and what is- 'Created a hostile and adversarial work environment!?'"
"Well, you did... and here is the last one."
"Sexual Harassment!? I take exception to that, I never sexually harassed you!"
"Well, I didn't choose to wear that clothing on my own!"
- Location
- madison
so she's going to be a weird mix of sheltered and traumatized to those who pay attention. easy assumption is a kid in an abusive household who either slipped away during an evacuation or who survived the death of their family. If it comes out she's looking for someone that would fit in nicely, even if they realize its her mom, since its not always both parents who are abusive. That said, given most of her co workers are war refugees that's not going to be an unusual level of trauma. Course the actual issue is she's had a few months experience with humanity beyond shooting/being shot at.
Now what is interesting is if her co workers open up about their own traumas, and she starts feeling bad about the whole, abyssal scourge of mankind thing.
Now what is interesting is if her co workers open up about their own traumas, and she starts feeling bad about the whole, abyssal scourge of mankind thing.
PyrrhicSteel
Look natural.
- Location
- Idaho
Hm, I thought I'd mentioned that earlier, but now that I'm thinking about it I might not have written that part. I should go back and to make sure I did.
First day at work is on its way, but I'm exercising caution on Trinitite's Webventures (?) as I figured it was something that could get stale pretty quickly. I'm actually kinda interested on how interesting people would find that.
This had me laughing, and imagining Trinitite slipping back into her Abyssal uniform to cite all the Princesses who'd wronged her in the past.
You bring up a good point. I was going to summarize them right away, but it might be better to hold my cards a little closer to my chest and reveal stuff slowly.
- Location
- Warszawa Polska
Uuu, trying to figure out what Trin is about without knowing she is Abyssal. Fun!
She is jumpy and gave a salute. She is vouge on her origin.
Combat veteran, now she is hiding from the war. A deserter or there is simply no one left to give here orders.
The girl was likely drafted by the military of that no-name island she won't name. Considering she is in her twenties and the war lasted for a few years already she had to be a kid still when they stuffed her in a uniform.
That little island military must have been nothing to write home about. She was likely given nothing more than a uniform a helmet and an old rifle and told to defend her country. From Eldrige horrors that came from the deep.
Looking at her they may see an old soul in a young body. And they would be correct.
Watching her work they will see a strong sense of duty. But she is less eager to please more fearful of disappointment.
A combat veteran observing her would wonder what sort of draconian uncivilized outfit where the people that served under.
This girl lived a hard life and has a lot of discipline inside her. And judging from where she ended up she lost a lot.
Or some can speculate she is an Ex-Con. And the prison she has been in was a back-breaking work camp. That would sort of explain why she is so naive in the matters of sex. She never got to learn as she was in all-woman prison.
As for other posters pointing to abusive upbringing. Well sort of, but I doubt looking at her would give them that impression.
They may think she was sheltered(lived only with her mother and her sisters) then got drafted.
She is jumpy and gave a salute. She is vouge on her origin.
Combat veteran, now she is hiding from the war. A deserter or there is simply no one left to give here orders.
The girl was likely drafted by the military of that no-name island she won't name. Considering she is in her twenties and the war lasted for a few years already she had to be a kid still when they stuffed her in a uniform.
That little island military must have been nothing to write home about. She was likely given nothing more than a uniform a helmet and an old rifle and told to defend her country. From Eldrige horrors that came from the deep.
Looking at her they may see an old soul in a young body. And they would be correct.
Watching her work they will see a strong sense of duty. But she is less eager to please more fearful of disappointment.
A combat veteran observing her would wonder what sort of draconian uncivilized outfit where the people that served under.
This girl lived a hard life and has a lot of discipline inside her. And judging from where she ended up she lost a lot.
Or some can speculate she is an Ex-Con. And the prison she has been in was a back-breaking work camp. That would sort of explain why she is so naive in the matters of sex. She never got to learn as she was in all-woman prison.
As for other posters pointing to abusive upbringing. Well sort of, but I doubt looking at her would give them that impression.
They may think she was sheltered(lived only with her mother and her sisters) then got drafted.
- Location
- Sealed away in a pure maidens heart
Nope, you did not! It didn't feel like a bad assumption to make however, so the flow isn't suffering, but in hindsight it might have been weird!
I'm sorry, but I have to laugh. Sadly this is an assumption I can still see others make, even if it doesn't hold up to scrutiny. Don't think it would come up either way, the public perception of a ex-convict is a much... rougher individual. All of the other ones were good though!
This was my first thought, but I keep coming back to the rubber band. Would a combat veteran have that instinctive dodging reaction? It is not normal to see bullets coming, and grenades, ehh, you need to actually survive to get that sort of reaction. Now, it could be second-hand, seeing other people who didn't dodge, but I can't help but feel that it more closely matches the Piccolo "dodge" training from Dragon Ball Zed Abridged. I feel it more likely that she had a parent that idolised the military(whether they were a member seems irrelevant) and took to carrying around some rocks, or maybe a paintball gun with them everywhere to teach the kid to protect themselves.
Of course, people vary, and in all likelihood there would be multiple different interpretations of her behaviour. The truth is actually pretty much both. She spent time around abusive parental figures who would throw things at people and generally didn't attribute much consequence to extreme violence to others, and she heard credible rumours of the things they threw being depth-charges. Depth charges are supposed to place intolerable pressure upon a ship's hull by going off nearby. I feel that most ships would survive one going off on their deck, but... I don't see much shy of a heavy cruiser being in any state to engage in battle, and they would certainly want drydock time afterwards. Her own mother might have been very protective in her own way, but with all the escort work done for other princesses, I don't doubt that she has a well-developed sense of fear from what she has personally witnessed.