Sempai noticed me! Yeah, I wasn't actually seriously thinking about what such a story would be, it just brought it up for me how weird it is I haven't seen that. It sounds like that's a good thing!
However, trying to think about what such a story would be now, I'm not really sure what would work: whatever pitch I think about I keep running into weird uncomfortable real world issues like the trans men and "men's rights" that seem like they would take over the whole plot if they were approached with the necessary care. Maybe you just lean into that, but I feel like this really should just be something fun.
"I woke up as the only male in a world of women, and used my magical powers to fight the demonic hordes that threatened their world." is a tagline that evokes a certain impression. I have not read shipboy fiction that I recall, except maybe once that I didn't read much of and have since forgotten except for mild impressions, but I do not doubt that the "shipboy" idea has been done numerous times and very very very... well it is possible that some of them have been good at what they do, but what they do isn't very sophisticated. This is not to say that it can't avoid that style of story, but some people are going to be instinctively dismissive at the mere mention of a shipboy. Especially a shipboy self-insert, as self-insert has pretty much exactly the same issue of being very attractive as a basis for a poorly-viewed form of fiction.
A few things that stand out:
1. Matt here apparently doesn't know what Abyssals are, so probably got killed pre-war - that's going to be a real awkward conversation: wait, what year is it? Seriously? What the hell happened? Why are you so scared of me (other than that I'm apparently a boat)? I don't feel like an enemy of humanity!
There are several hints sprinkled in there about when he died, how and from what ship. He has taken the form of said ship as his ship self, but is not actually the ship spirit herself. Could possibly lead to a weird situation where he met said ship spirit and all the shipgirls were confused since they'd look the same or very similar, minus the abyssal shit. Does he have the same capabilities? Maybe? That's for @PyrrhicSteel, I think, if the more powerful "fodder" abyssals are comparable to normal shipgirls or not, especially one that isn't as fragmented as usual.
Mayhaps. I don't intend to muscle in on someone else's story, but I told myself that the next time I had an urge to write something I would and here we are.
Hazy outline is wandering slowly in the general direction "east" with many potential (miss)adventures before he ever made it to the US. Would probably make for an odd sight; a lone abyssal with an old, torn US flag flying from the mast.
4. Matt's definitely retained his gender, so either he's in for the wonderful experience that is gender dysphoria (plus the bonus stress of how does one do hormonal therapy when they're not human?) or he's unique in more ways than just the "sane independent abyssal" sense.
My idea is that he's actually a fucked abyssal summon; he isn't actually warped into what the abyss wanted him to be but he is still of it, so he's an abyssal. As for the gender, well, he remembers some of his previous life, especially the major parts (like death) so he still thinks of himself as "he." As for if his body matches up I left that intentionally ambiguous (because I haven't decided) if he actually is still physically male, which would match up to him being a botched summon since, while ship spirits are female and I stand by that, he isn't actually a ship spirit but a corrupted human soul given the appearance of one. Either that or he is female like all things of the abyss are in at least appearance and he just said "nope" and added it to his Pile.
However, trying to think about what such a story would be now, I'm not really sure what would work: whatever pitch I think about I keep running into weird uncomfortable real world issues like the trans men and "men's rights" that seem like they would take over the whole plot if they were approached with the necessary care. Maybe you just lean into that, but I feel like this really should just be something fun.
Yeah, that is a sticky subject and one that I feel I am in no way qualified to write, honestly. If I were to do a story along these vague lines I'd either have to think long and hard about how I wanted to handle something like that, change the premise slightly (which would be hard since a core part of it is being a sailor), or just go full steam ahead and try and ignore the implications. I don't like that last one, but at least I'm qualified for it. 🤷
Edit: I feel like it's important to note that Matty McMatt is in no way a real person or even based on one. No SIs or FriendSerts here, no siree.
The first thing she noticed was the color. Outside, bright yellows and reds weren't exactly uncommon, but the general colors had been subdued, including both the natural greens and browns along with the human-made asphalt, steel, and concrete. The library had continued the trend, bathing dark carpet and brown-painted steel shelves with a somewhat comforting yellow glow. The 'Baskin-Robins' bucked that trend, the dark blue and polished silver acting as a contrast for the bright whites and pinks that filled the building. It reminded her a bit of the warehouse she'd raided, although the differences in scale had meant more attention had been put into every inch of the building.
The next thing Trinitite noticed was the noise. Like with Penang's Market and several other fleets she had attempted to join, noises similar to those playing over several radio frequencies filled the building, although here they seemed louder than normal. Whatever it was, the strange repetitions and not-quite-natural speaking was… off putting, like the whole building was putting up a front of cheeriness, but one that wasn't quite cheery enough.
It must have been a popular place. Besides the Fleet's uniformed workers, two of the tables were in use by humans, while several more patiently waited in a line behind the counter. Trinitite quietly took a position in the back of the line, peering around a particularly wide human to read the list of items Baskin-Robins was offering.
Let's see… 'Flavors.' Flavors of what? Skimming through the list didn't reveal much. What was a cake, let alone the difference between a 'Pumpkin Cheesecake' and a 'German Chocolate cake?' There were fruits, like Mango and Coconut, but they always came with some additional adjective that only confused the abyssal further.
How could something be Mango flavored three times? It either was a mango, or wasn't. Furthermore, what exactly was chocolate, and why were so many flavors some variant of it? She'd 'procured' some chocolate from the warehouse, but hadn't tried any yet. Maybe later tonight, when most of the humans had gone to sleep and-
"How can I help you?"
"Huh?" Startled out of her contemplation, Trinitite met the uniformed human's questioning gaze. Had they already gotten through the line in front of her? She'd hardly read through flavors list, let alone the other available items! Deep, she should have been paying attention to what the humans in front of her had been asking for!
"Ah…"
The Wo-class stalled, frantically searching the board of options behind the human. Baseball nut? Cotton Candy Crackle? Peanut Butter n' Chocolate?
"Uh…"
None of this made any sense! Trinitite would just have to bite the AP shell and ask.
"What do you sell, here?"
Whatever the human had been expecting, that hadn't been it. She visibly recoiled, giving Trinitite a look she knew she'd given to ships from other fleets, when they had asked her something exceptionally stupid. Trinitite could feel her cheeks darken in embarrassment, but to the human's credit, however, her smile returned almost immediately.
"We sell ice cream, miss."
Ice Cream?
Trinitite looked down at an array of metal canisters, their tops exposed to show a substance in all kinds of colors. That was ice cream? Maybe the curved glass that protected it made it difficult to tell. Trinitite only knew ice cream as the smooth white treat from Her Mother, and while one of the variants looked somewhat similar to what she was used to, it's texture was… different. Rougher, somehow.
"All of this is ice cream?" She asked. Maybe human ice cream was made using a different process then the machine her mother had used, and thus had a different texture. Still, there was so much…
Trinitite realized her mouth had been hanging open, hurriedly snapping it closed with a click. Her lips had probably hid her less-human looking teeth, but she had no doubt her grey tongue would draw attention, if someone had been watching her.
"Well, some of it's frozen yogurt." The human admitted, thankfully focused on the ice cream herself. She looked up, giving the abyssal an expectant smile. "Can I get you any?"
Trinitite swallowed. Now, she had the ability to claim ice cream back in that warehouse, but had refrained. Then, it had made sense to wait until she'd found Her Princess, but she'd underestimated how complicated of a process that would be, and probably still did now.
Besides, she'd gotten a lot done, so far! She'd survived a battle with four destroyers along with something larger. She'd successfully evade human attempts to find her, even raiding a major supply center in the process! She'd managed to disguise herself as a human, allowing her almost unrestricted access to their greater society, as well as ensuring she had established a steady stream of supplies, from the enemy's logistics network.
If Her Princess knew what she'd managed to accomplish for her, surely she'd reward her, right? On top of that, it was look supid, no, suspicious, if she walked in here, waited in line, asked a few questions, and just left, wouldn't it?
"What would you suggest?"
She had to buy ice cream. Her Princess would understand!
"Well…" The human nervously glanced behind Trinitite, and the Abyssal was suddenly aware of the line that was building up behind her. "Do you like Fruit? Chocolate?"
The answer obviously was fruit, but…
"I've never had anything chocolate."
"Alright then." The human turned her attention to the instruments in front of her. "How about one scoop chocolate, one scoop chocolate chip, one scoop german chocolate cake. That sound good?"
"Uh- yes." Trinitite asserted. She had no idea what any of those were, but considering the human's disposition she was probably taking too long here.
"Want it in a cup or a cone?" The human followed up.
"I'll take it in a cup." The Wo-class replied. Whatever cones were, Mother's Ice Cream always came in a cup, and she'd always take the possibility of some familiarity.
"Alright!" The human replied, imputing Trinitite's transaction into the machine. "That'll be Six-oh-seven."
Remembering the labels at the warehouse, Trinitite removed the fruits of her day's work and withdrew her '10' note. It was a waste of four dollars, though… Couldn't Dan have given her more… flexible money?
Resigned, she placed the ten dollar bill on the counter. Like many things, using her money to resupply was going to be more complicated then she'd expected.
"Anything I can do with the other four dollars?"
"Hmm?" The human asked, accepting the ten-dollar note. "I mean, I'd like a tip, but that'll be up to you." With a click, a compartment in the human's console slid open, revealing several other green notes. Slipping the ten in, she removed three others, placing them back on the counter with a collection of metal disks.
"Three ninety-three."
Oh. That was convenient. Good to know Dan hadn't hurt her supply situation by only giving high-value notes.
"Ah, uh, thank you." Trinitite accepted the money, pocketing the paper and scooping the disks up with another hand. Money came in two types? Come to think of it, with how much she was relying on this, why hadn't she added this topic to The Research List?
Hopefully, she'd eventually get around to that. It was starting to look like a process she'd never finish, as she'd only finished with one topic off so far, out of forty eight.
"Alright!" The human replied, handing Trinitite another piece of paper and nodding to the other uniformed human. "Here's your receipt! He'll get you your ice cream shortly." Trinitite nodded, scanning the paper while the uniformed human turned her attention to the person behind Trinitite. It looked like some kind of log, reading off how much she'd given the Baskin-Robins fleet and what for. Presumably, they'd made one for themselves, preventing Trinitite from modifying the deal then accusing them of betrayal. Another thing that would have been useful back in the abyssal fleets, although the Supply Depot Princess had invented such a system and it hadn't spread at all.
Once she found Her Princess, it might be neat to look at all these receipts she'd collected. Trinitite knew her supply officer was going to love these, at least.
"Chocolate, Chocolate Chip, German Chocolate Cake?"
Trinitite looked up at the tall, thin man who must have been referring to her. Hastily she gave the human a short nod, stowing her receipt. Trinitite watched as the human took a metal scoop of some kind, plunging it into a bin filled with earthy-colored ice cream, and carving a channel into the dark treat. Despite its color, the way it gave without much resistance confirmed for Trinitite that it was related to the ice cream she was used to, if not the exact consistency.
Again, she had to swallow as the human deftly filled a small cup with three scoops from each container. It wasn't much, especially compared to those gallon cups she'd get from Mother, but despite the fact that this building had so much of it, Trinitite wasn't surprised it was valuable. Six dollars, for three scoops… She'd have to remember that, when comparing it to other food she could get. Not that Ice Cream was that filling a food, but how efficiently food contributed to her general supplies wasn't the only factor she was concerned with, else she'd just dip steel in bunker oil and eat that. That didn't sound too bad, but it would get old quickly.
"Here you go." The human placed the cup on the glass counter, producing a plastic instrument and plunging it into one of the scoops. "...And your spoon. Enjoy!"
So that was what those were called. Trinitite would have to remember, although she didn't think it was worth putting on her list. Giving the human a smile as thanks, Trinitite took the ice cream and found the most isolated table she could.
There she sat, allowing herself a moment to examine the first thing she'd ever traded money for. The first scoop of ice cream was dark, but had the smooth simplicity Trinitite expected from ice cream. The second was light, similar to the color she was used to, but it's texture was interrupted by evenly-spaced fragments of… something that Trinitite didn't recognize. The third, at the bottom of the cup, seemed to be a variant of the first, but bands of dark and gold materials interrupted it's even sheen.
Well, she couldn't let it melt…
With a slight pang of guilt, Trinitite awkwardly gripped the spoon, plunging it into the simple dark scoop of ice cream and carving a section out. Emulating other humans in the room, The Abyssal slid the spoon into her mouth, closing her lips and started to withdraw the spoon. Meeting her teeth, the spoon's sweet payload slid off the utensil and fell to her tongue.
!
Trinitite froze, stunned. This was ice cream, no doubt about that, but the taste! Withdrawing the spoon, Trinitite shifted the ice cream around in her mouth, feeling it's texture as friction and her tongue broke it down. Instead of the traditional sweetness she was used to, this flavor was overwhelmingly sweet, with a tantalizing bitter undertone to keep it interesting. The room around the abyssal seemed to fade as she focused on the new sensation, the room's temperature transforming into a pleasant warmth as a second bite cooled her.
At the same time, she was overcome by the novel taste of this ice cream, and nostalgia from when she'd had her own. Once her current bite had been reduced to the base cream it had been, she'd quietly place another one in. It could have taken one or thirty minutes, but before she'd realized it, she was through the first scoop and digging into the second. Here, the taste loosely resembled the ice cream Trinitite used to know, but chunks of this 'chocolate' interrupted its texture. Whenever Trinitite chewed, an explosion of dark flavor would punctuate the familiar taste.
By the time she'd gotten to the third scoop, it was starting to melt, meaning she didn't have as much time to enjoy it. Unlike the firm chunks of chocolate, though, the bands in it fell apart with the rest of the ice cream, punctuating the flavor in new ways. One band had a more intense version of the same flavor, dissolving soon after it met her tongue, while the other had both a different flavor and texture, seeming to hold together more as she shifted the ice cream around in her mouth.
Soon, Trinitite found her spoon scraping against the bottom of the paper cup, scooping the melted ice cream from the bottom and into her mouth. At Bikini, she'd probably start eating the cup to get the last out, but it didn't seem like anyone else was doing it, and the abyssal couldn't afford to ruin her disguise. She'd just have to be thorough with the provided spoon, then.
Had it been worth it? Trinitite leaned back, idly sliding the now-empty cup from one hand to the other. Yes, absolutely. She hadn't had a chance to forget herself and focus on something truly trivial since the fall of Bikini. Learning in the library had been fun, sure, and work was relaxing in it's own way, but there she'd still been focused on a task. She'd needed this.
Trinitite sighed, looking back up at the list of flavors behind the human. The room seemed to cool as her hull slowly returned to ambient temperature. That chocolate had been amazing… but she was used to fruit. Why had she never thought of mixing a bit of mango with her mother's ice cream? Firestorm probably would have laughed at her for the idea, but she wouldn't have had any issues convincing her to try it once she had.
Trinitite snorted. That is, if mango ice cream was any good. She stood, dropping the cup in one of the storage boxes the humans had been discarding their cups and returning to the back of the now-smaller line. Sure, she needed to get that pair of steel-toed boots tomorrow, but they couldn't cost that much, right? She could afford to explore a few more of these.
Me, after finishing and rereading this chapter: Wait, it's all fluff?
Anyways, I guess Trinitite did deserve a bit of a break, although I feel a bit weary about posting something that, let's face it, doesn't advance the story at all. Let me know how you feel about this chapter. Because of that, there isn't much I can say about this, although I have relied mostly on store-bought ice cream or a local place a mile from home, so if I got any part of Baskin-Robins wrong, let me know. Unlike the last big battle scene, I probably won't rewrite anything, but I'm all for making minor corrections even in less important parts.
Oh boi cant wait till she discovers theres other ice cream flavors outside what they have at baskin Robin's.
Or, she happens to discover coldstone.
I'm afraid the sheer topping combos would cause her to never leave the store.
As for baskin robins, about what youd expects. From what I remember insides tended to be plain white with some decoration likes some paint to represent sprinkles on the wall inside. Might have just been that place though. Also, "what do you sell here?" Might not be too out there, given it doesnt sell only ice cream. They sell some other stuff too, like ice cream cakes and whatnot, usually in a freezer to the side.
There are several hints sprinkled in there about when he died, how and from what ship. He has taken the form of said ship as his ship self, but is not actually the ship spirit herself.
I think I know what ship he served on (Haven't seen the movie 'adaption,' but from what I remember it was really bad), but I don't know if you want to save that as a reveal later or not, so I won't make a public guess.
Does he have the same capabilities? Maybe? That's for @PyrrhicSteel, I think, if the more powerful "fodder" abyssals are comparable to normal shipgirls or not, especially one that isn't as fragmented as usual.
Less 'fragmented' translates to a smaller crew, which might cause issues.
Other then that, Abyssals generally have the same technical specifications then their counterparts, with small losses in efficiency that wouldn't mean much in a battle. The real difference comes in experience and training, which having memories as a sailor would partially help with, I assume.
Mayhaps. I don't intend to muscle in on someone else's story, but I told myself that the next time I had an urge to write something I would and here we are.
The big draw to this fic for me was literally these kind of scenes so no worry on not advancing the plot.
I can also just imagine the worker posting one of those "Wow, customers are so weird" posts about this.
It could easily shift into a complete farce, but the idea that all the civilians pretty regularly notice Trin is a new/weird shipgirl and think nothing of it while the military is desperately searching for her hits my darkly funny-bone. Start thanking her for her service, or cheering her on to keep fighting -- things like that.
Part of me keeps having this play out like a show in my head, and right near the end of the show some analyst is despairing over what this abyssal could be up to, and the credits are just shots of Trin in the background of selfies and such being baffled at how to human.
Probably depends on the job you're using them for, honestly? I wear $40 dollar steel toes and they suit me just fine, but I'm only working at UPS moving heavy packages, so the worst is the occasional box bouncing off my foot or intentionally rolling something across the steel part to get a better grip underneath something heavier. If I were working a field like construction, chances are I'd want something a tad more expensive, since I figure the average steel beam or whatever else is lurking in a construction site is going to impact a LOT harder, and might be falling from farther. There's also the how often are you replacing them consideration - I get a new pair of boots every 9-12 months at this price.
Hmm, looking at a certain store called "Walmart" shows the lowest priced boot there (online) for $14-20 (and that is Men's shoes). The "economy" brand, that is I should add.
Yeah...
Well, that would be a STUPID thing to do from both a comfort AND safety angle. Then again our Wo here only LOOKS human. She hiked through that National Park like a champ in high-heeled boots, right? That and anything heavy and metallic that drops on her foot is more likely to be damaged by the impact than the foot, given how she's really an Abyssal and all.
What I am saying that once she figures out that maybe $150 can go pretty d*mn quickly before the weekend finishes here, she might need to discover the wonderful world of "budgeting". Sure, buy those steel-toed boots for her disguise, but considering what she really is . . . does she really need to go overboard with buying boots? Just enough to look like she's serious about being a construction worker, but nothing too out there.
I think I know what ship he served on (Haven't seen the movie 'adaption,' but from what I remember it was really bad), but I don't know if you want to save that as a reveal later or not, so I won't make a public guess.
Oh god there was a movie? Ugh. Why can't there be movies about cool things like the Battle off Samar? Maybe that's too unrealistic.
But no, not really a spoiler thing. That little snippet was a test-case for non-essay writing and I just wanted to try out hinting things. Personally I think I made it too obvious. Its near-literally spelled out.
Less 'fragmented' translates to a smaller crew, which might cause issues.
Other then that, Abyssals generally have the same technical specifications then their counterparts, with small losses in efficiency that wouldn't mean much in a battle. The real difference comes in experience and training, which having memories as a sailor would partially help with, I assume.
Hmm, bit of an issue, but that seems possible if it were to go with less "fragments" and more "aspects." As in, the crew would be not broken fragments but spin-off aspects that potentially embody the people he knew who worked those positions. Potentially workable. Or maybe a story about an insanity-induced powerup. Those are fun too.
I would, but only if I could guarantee actual quality. The last time I wrote any sort of fiction was for a creative writing paper in college, so you could say I'm a bit rusty. Basically I put that out there hoping for some criticism.
The only thing that it made me think of is that Trin is a modified Essex, and IIRC Essexes had ice-cream manufacturing facilities onboard (to bribe the DD crews to bring their pilots back when they had to ditch).
So, does Trin have her own ice-cream maker? And if so, has some wise senior-NCO fairy just hidden it as deep as he could, for fear of Trim blowing her disguise by being seen to eat her own apparent weight in ice-cream every day?
So, does Trin have her own ice-cream maker? And if so, has some wise senior-NCO fairy just hidden it as deep as he could, for fear of Trim blowing her disguise by being seen to eat her own apparent weight in ice-cream every day?
But that was the problem with her cheap shoes from the big store. They disintegrated around her feet. Google for Terry Pratchett's bit about Vimes' leather boots.
But that was the problem with her cheap shoes from the big store. They disintegrated around her feet. Google for Terry Pratchett's bit about Vimes' leather boots.
Given that Trin is supernaturally strong and tough, even the most EXPENSIVE man-made boots (from the big store or CUSTOM MADE) can/will disintegrate around her feet given half a second of inattention. I agree with you however with what you are saying about *cheap shoes*, Or should I dare say TOO cheap of shoes. Won't do at ALL for the shoe to fall apart on the worksite with her just walking around, and she's smart enough to know that.
But she's going to have to take the plunge and get new boots of some kind. She's going to HAVE to experience and learn from the horror of buying work boots.
Yes, it will be Maybe just getting another set of hiking boots shored up with abyssal steel, or maybe purely mundane steel toed shoes from the big store. She's stuck. She cannot hit another store and loot it like last time because she knows (rightly), that the Navy will be looking for such things. And the poor Wo cannot get a set from the worksite (the foreman mentioned the worksite providing something like work boots), since they probably do not have her size.
From experience for myself with just shoes from a big store, I can say that their cheapest shoe will work . . .for shoes. They do not last as long as they should, though. By needs, I bought them because the more *quality* and *expensive* ones were out of reach. Period. BUT when I got the chance, I did opt for the more expensive (off-brand) shoe thanks. I won't even GO into the non-sense about after a certain point, you getting a name brand instead of a shoe for money spent.
I think that it won't get the end of the world if she gets "cheap" steel-toed shoes, though. Just as long as she is careful.
My point, however, finally is that our Wo is going to have to get herself steel-toed shoes from somewhere, and that will almost HAVE to be from a BIG STORE. She'll need to get shoes and perhaps something of not the highest quality because she'll have no choice. She is only discovering "online" and cannot as of yet ORDER online for obvious reason, so big stores it be. And she'll have to at least begin on the path of "budgeting" when she chokes on the price of some of those shoes. She'll want to still get other things (like food and materials), for herself and for her quest to finally find her mother eventually.
If nothing else, it will be an interesting read on just bloody SHOES I dare say.
Sigh. Poor Wo... Too bad she cannot just take yet another set of looted hiking boots and reinforce them again with Abyssal steel since she ruined the old ones by running in them at full steam!
Much like the library, the Baskin-Robbins fleet ended up kicking her out after they closed, although here they gave her until 22:00. In that time, she'd experimented with ten other flavors, and although some had a bizarre flavor to them, she couldn't say she hated any of them. Overall, the experience had cost her around thirty-one dollars. Had she used too much, compromising her logistics capabilities, or was this an efficient use of her money? She probably wasn't going to know until she tried to procure more supplies, either to restock her hold or procure tools to aid in her repairs. Her engineers were insistent they didn't need any help from human tools, but Trinitite wasn't going to let a bit of pride hamper her repair efforts.
Either way, Trinitite was going to have to limit herself to six or seven different flavors, next time. Even if it wasn't costly, Trinitite was having a hard time keeping track of all the flavors she'd had over the last three hours. It would be better for her time, stockpiles, and knowledge if she didn't overwhelm herself like that.
Another drawback of spending so much time in that Baskin-Robins was how much of it she lost. When she was banished from the building, almost every other human fleet had shut down, powering its lights off. Oddly, none of these places seemed to have a guard, even though the only thing apparently protecting their supplies from the outside world was some brittle glass.
What was that Elizabeth had said back at the warehouse? Something about the 'poe-lease?' To her, she'd only said they'd call the Navy if Trinitite tripped some automatic alarm, but if humans bothered to set up their advanced technology to alert this fleet after someone entered their business uninvited, they had to have some deterrent ability. Maybe they alerted everyone else as to what had happened, removing the aggressor's ability to peacefully deal with others? Perhaps they dealt with aggressors via force, either by calling the Navy, such as in her case, or using their own fleet's firepower. Most human fleets she'd encountered hadn't seemed particularly combat-capable, but the 'uniformed services' certainly were, and they couldn't be the only exceptions.
Knowing the aggressors would use your valuable base of operations as a battlefield probably wasn't an ideal situation for a human fleet commander, especially since Trinitite had personal experience in how destructive human weapons could be, but she guessed the threat of facing a strong fleet no matter who you raided had its advantages. Not having to pay money for weapons yourself, for example.
Following her chart, Elizabeth ventured east, into an unlabeled portion of the map she assumed would provide cover. Sure, she didn't need to sleep right now, but with most human fleets closing their bases and leaving the streets, there wasn't much else for her to do. Maybe, with it being night, Trinitite would have an easier time scouting the nearby naval station, but that was still much more dangerous then just waiting for the library to open again, and Trinitite hadn't nearly explored that option enough yet. Better to figure out what she couldn't learn there, then take any more unnecessary risks.
Plus, she needed to eat. Ice cream was amazing, but not particularly filling, and the sparse lunch she'd had with the humans hadn't been enough for her even then, despite only having one boiler running. Perhaps that was another reason she'd gotten so lost in the Baskin-Robbins. In the future, she'd have to resupply before ice cream.
Passing a few buildings that still had their lights on, but not much labeling to give Trinitite a hint as to their purpose, Trinitite ducked under a tree and entered a small forest. What little light filtered in from the fixtures lining the roads faded away, leaving the uncanny glow that permeated the sky as Trinitite's only light source. It was saying something that even through the trees, this mysterious light was enough to help her navigate.
Was there just so many lights that it was reflecting off the clouds? That felt like a ridiculous idea! There must be some sort of princess around. Guess 'Human Princesses' needed to be investigated, especially if she planned on getting any closer to the installation at Everett.
After crossing a small creek and settling in a tight collection of trees, Trinitite disembarked a small contingent of marines to establish a loose perimeter. While her landbound scouts waddled into the underbrush, ready to report any threats they noticed, The abyssal allowed herself to slump against a tree, sighing. It had been a long day, and while not particularly dangerous, it had been a storm of emotion. Now that she was sitting, some rest didn't seem that bad.
Seems... clear.
The tepid reply from her away team didn't inspire that much confidence, but Trinitite couldn't give her marines too much flak for it. Beyond basic damage control, they'd never really been trained, after all. Even Wa's dedicated to amphibious assaults didn't use them much, as while they had a low profile, they weren't too stealthy, were quite fragile, and grew tired far too quickly to see much use. Better to stick to their armored fighting vehicles, as they were at least somewhat resistant to enemy fire.
Not that they felt like it. The horror stories she'd heard of combat inland made her very glad of Her Princess's stance on the war. Abyssals were meant for the sea, and Installations were a rare exception, rather than an example.
Choosing to trust in her scouts, Trinitite allowed light to return to her tower, eyes flickering to light and bathing the area in front of her in a faint blue-orange glow. The ambient light was good enough for her to navigate, but if she wanted to read the labels on food, she'd need a bit more illumination, even if it made her nature pretty obvious.
As she shuffled through her hold, The Abyssal's thoughts drifted back to Dan's meal this afternoon. He'd had some sort of meat shaped into a disc, surrounded by that white stuff she'd had on the Pacific Lilly. Judging by the color of the whole thing, there had been some dark sauce involved as well, giving the whole thing a bit of a flavor. Despite the Wo-Class's reservations about any sauce, if it worked for Alton…
First step was the white stuff. Trinitite ruffled through her supplies, eventually withdrawing with a fairly distinctive bag of labeled 'White Rice.' So far, so good. For a moment, the Abyssal pondered the clear bag, wishing she'd held onto one of the Baskin-Robbins cups. The bag was full enough that Trinitite would probably lose half of the rice if she tried to eat from it, meaning she needed to pour some out before she could eat from it. Biting her lip in frustration, glanced around the cluster of trees she was hiding in. Alton had had some kind of container to eat from, and Trinitite hadn't thought far enough ahead to prepare one. Would something else work?
Fetching a flimsy box from her storage, Trinitite held its label to her face. Her eye's dim glow became a firm light when it came this close, and Trinitite quietly read the label aloud.
"Oops, all Berries?"
Oops? As in, 'I made a mistake?' If you put the effort into writing that on the box, then why not fix your mistake in the first place? The bizarrely distorted image of a human in some kind of uniform didn't help either.
Well, Trinitite didn't really care what was in the box, she just needed the box to eat from. Finding a seam, Trinitite popped the box open, sliding a bag filled with colorful... somethings out. Come to think of it, it probably wasn't a good idea to throw this back into her hold unlabeled, so it was looking like the Abyssal was going to have to eat something before she could get to the meal she wanted to try.
Sighing, the abyssal hefted the bag, giving it a bit of a shake. It felt far too light to be filling, and at the moment that was all she really cared about. Opening the bag, Trinitite spared a look at what she was about to eat. Maybe the dry balls of food looked better in natural light, but under the blue-orange glow of her eyes their unnatural color was a little unnerving. These were supposed to be berries? Bracing herself, Trinitite tipped the bag back, pouring the 'berries' into her mouth.
Crunch.
It was sweet, like the ice cream she'd just had, but instead of the smooth, creamy sensation she loved, the pellets sucked up moistrue, retaining their shape until Trinitite's teeth broke them apart. Before she knew it, the 'berries' had been reduced to a fine powder that stuck to her teeth, tongue, and the inside of her mouth, and the abyssal found herself unable to swallow. The Wo-class tried to spit it out, lowering the box and bag to her side, but her attempts to spit out the dust was quickly reduced to a dry cough. Trinitite shifted to her knees, hacking and heaving, but the dust still stubbornly clung to Trinitite's throat. Some saliva finally returned, and the Wo-class was finally able to clear her cheeks, but not much else. It was still too dry to swallow.
Drink. She needed something to drink.
Her crew offered a plastic container of 'Orange Juice' from her fridge, and almost desperately she spun the top off and took a swig. Like she'd expected, the yellow liquid purged her mouth and throat of the annoying dust, allowing her to finally swallow.
Alright, that hadn't gone well, but perhaps that was her fault. Trinitite lifted the bag again, this time removing a pinch of the dry nuggets and eating that, instead of filling her mouth like she was drinking avgas. With only six or seven of these things in her mouth, Trinitite found she didn't necessarily need the orange juice to break them down, but nevertheless she still took another swig from the bottle. Then another, because while she was still undecided on these fake berries, the Orange Juice was pretty darn good.
She continued like that for about thirty minutes, growing increasingly frustrated as to how long it was taking to eat. Like she'd suspected, the 'berries' were roughly 80% air, and since Trinitite was trying to resupply it felt like she was putting a lot of work in for not much progress.
Eventually, finally, the bag had been emptied, Trinitite crumpling the useless plastic up and stuffing it into her hold. Dealing with that was an issue for tomorrow's Trinitite. Now, she had a nice cardboard box to eat from. Sitting so the opened top was facing her, Trinitite took the face of the box and tore it away, leaving a fairly decent tray if she made sure to rest it at a slight angle. Retrieving the bag of rice from a bush next to her, Trinitite tore a corner off, pouring a pile of the small grains into the box.
Placing the bag back next to her, Trinitite turned her attention back to the box of rice in her lap. Contemplatively, she gave it a few small shakes, studying the food as it was shuffled from a pile to an even layer of rice. Cautiously, she stuck a finger in, shifting the rice around a little more.
Deep, she'd had her suspicions, but it seemed like the consistency was all wrong. Instead of the tender filling she'd had aboard the Pacific Lilly, the rice was solid, like she was messing with a particularly fine gravel. She plucked one of the rice particles out of the box, popping it into her mouth and chewing speculatively. Crunchy, too, but the taste wasn't all that off from what she remembered. She wasn't doing this right, was she?
Well, it wasn't like she was going to be able to un-rip the bag of rice. She was committed, now.
What else had Alton eaten? Some kind of meat disk, but there were several of those in her freezer. Eventually, she settled on what she had the most of: Hamburgers. Removing the package and untying the wire keeping it closed, Trinitite removed three 'patties,' plunging them into the box of rice so they stood on their sides, partially submerged. It didn't quite look like the right color, but no doubt Alton's meat disk had been coated in some sauce, and given the light she wasn't going to be able to get an accurate read on it's color anyways.
She returned the rest of the patties to her hold, allowing for her crew to return it to the freezer. Now, for a sauce. Trinitite suppressed a shudder, especially as that would disturb the rice and precariously-balanced hamburger patties in her lap. It wasn't like all sauce was bad, just… strong. Trinitite just needed to find a sauce that would complement the taste of rice and hamburgers!
That got a chuckle out of her. Like she'd know any better. Better to go with that bottle of… war-chester-sher sauce, or whatever it was called, that she'd already opened. That didn't seem all that terrible, although Trinitite had an urge to bomb whomever had named the damn thing.
Fishing the bottle from her hold, Trinitite held it up to her face, trying to read it again.
"Work… No, Workest… uh… ter, shi, re?"
Scratch that, bombing was too impersonal a punishment. Trinitite needed the chance to ask them how to say this damn name.
Whatever this stuff was, Trinitite popped the lid open, upending the bottle and sloshing some onto the hamburgers and rice. She'd hoped adding liquid would soften the rice up, like with the loosely-defined 'berries,' but no such luck. It slid over the hamburgers and through the rice, only slightly staining it. Where she'd dripped too much sauce, it soaked through the cardboard and into her pants, leaving a spot or two on her legs noticeably wet.
Whatever. She'd done it wrong, obviously, but this was still a meal. The Abyssal took one of the hamburgers, stirring the rice a bit to mix the sauce in, before taking a bite herself.
Snap.
It tasted like ice. Only by furiously rubbing the bite with her tongue could Trinitite get a faint taste of the meat, and she was far too hungry to do that much work. Sighing, Trinitite reached into her box of rice, scooping out a handful of the white grains and pouring it into her mouth.
Crunch. Crunch.
Well, it tasted good, at least. Like she had guessed, the sauce added an interesting dimension to the rice, now that it was diluted by something. Still, Trinitite found she had to take another swig of Orange Juice, following it up with another bite of the frozen hamburger.
…
She really needed to read those cookbooks. It was becoming very clear that some human food was fine to just eat, out of the packaging, while others needed preparation of some kind before it was worth the time to eat it. She'd have to look into those after she'd finished the rice, hoping to figure out what she could use and what she couldn't, at least. Best case, only about 20% of her haul from the Warehouse raid was currently unusable, but Trinitite wasn't hoping for that.
She was still going to finish that bag of rice, though. This wasn't particularly good, but it wasn't all that bad, either. With a more content sigh, Trinitite scooped another handful of rice into her mouth, the sound of her chewing fading into the sparse rain pattering against the trees above her.
I'd say you shoulda cooked all of that, but since you're galley's trashed, I guess you were in a lose-lose situation, huh Trin?
Anyways, I didn't expect to write another Trinitite's food blog chapter, but when I was trying to timeskip the night I realized we had a unique opportunity of seeing an Abyssal attempt to reverse-engineer her coworker's cooking. Seemed interesting enough to write, and since it ballooned into chapter size here's some unplanned fluff.
I've never had the cereal I mentioned, but I imagine it probably isn't much to speak about when eaten dry.
Kind of interesting she didn't recognize 'ole Captain Crunch's uniform. Guessing since its a style so old she wouldn't have any context to recognize it.
Also mad respect for being able to eat raw rice. I undercooked some once and forcing it down was a nightmare. Like chalky pellets of sorrow and regret.
In an alternate path, an abyssal gets caught up in her food based research and winds up either serving whatever strange food she comes up with on the side of the road, or gets herself into a kitchen as a dishwasher. This then leads to her working herself up to accidentally appearing on national TV in a cooking competition.
"If I broadcast my image to a large number of people, then my princess can find me! Flawless plan!"
Also mad respect for being able to eat raw rice. I undercooked some once and forcing it down was a nightmare. Like chalky pellets of sorrow and regret.
