- Location
- Warszawa Polska
Good question and one only the author personally can answer.
As far as I am aware every single KanColle fic has its own rules to govern it.
All Wo-rk and No Play: An Abyssal's Trials in the Job Market (KC)
- Thread starter PyrrhicSteel
- Start date
As far as I am aware every single KanColle fic has its own rules to govern it.
- Location
- California
Awesome story; I quite like how you've managed to thread the gap between having the Abyssals be simply evil vs uncharacteristically nice. WO-chan is a very fun character!
Interlude: Briefing
PyrrhicSteel
Look natural.
- Location
- Idaho
Joint Base Lewis-McChord was alive with activity. Nashville was too airsick to dwell on specifics, but when the cruiser had stumbled out of the Navy helicopter she'd been swarmed by people. The bustle of officers and airmen, coupled with the storm of noise that assaulted her senses, the Light Cruiser found herself focusing entirely on her headache. She nodded when she thought someone was speaking to her, and followed the people who motioned for her to follow. When Nashville had truly regained her senses, she was inside, a solid wall between her and the noise outside, and an Airman showing her to a nearby water cooler.
"Where's Lieutenant Murray?" Nashville asked, gladly accepting a paper cup from her escort. The Spook had been with her on the flight over, but he'd disappeared in the chaos between their landing and now.
"Debriefing General Hudson, sir." The young man replied, accepting the now-empty cup and refilling it. "He's formed a plan for dealing with the Abyssal, but he wants a Navy perspective on it. He would have called you in too, if…" He nodded towards the airfield, offering the refilled cup.
Nashville sighed, staring into her cup of water.
"How long ago was that?"
"About two, three minutes?" The Airman replied, speaking up again as the Brooklyn grimaced. "Permission to speak freely?"
"Granted." She replied, fairly sure it wasn't necessary.
"Every ship gets airsick, and it was a rough ride here. Nobody blames you for a headache." That wasn't entirely true, as carriers seemed to handle it just fine, but Nashville didn't feel like correcting him.
"Not good enough." Nashville mumbled, downing the cup in one swig.
"I'm sorry?"
"Not good enough." She repeated, handing the cup back to the man. "That was my first gun battle with another ship, you know? I spent all war swatting aircraft and cleaning islands, but I never found a surface ship to shoot at. Lord knows I tried."
Maybe it was the airsickness. Maybe she hadn't had enough sleep between now and Bikini. Maybe it was the knowledge she'd probably never meet this random zoomie again and didn't give a fuck about his opinion, but for some reason she felt the words keep coming.
"Now, my first target waves her carrier-sized ass at me from point blank, and I can't hit the broad side of a barn." She was being hard on herself, but there wasn't any regulation about being rational when you were venting. "Christ, some flagship I am. What'll Honolulu think? What the hell am I going to tell Phoenix or Boise, when they return?"
Of course, the Airman stayed silent. The rhetorical question hung in the air for a few seconds, before he finally pointed at Nashville's cup.
"Want me to-"
"Just grab me one of those." She cut the man off, waving at the deep blue jug atop the reservoir. "It'll save you some time."
- - -
The briefing room was practically empty. With only seven officers crammed into the front row, a smaller office probably would have worked just as well.
"Gentlemen, I guess you have suspicions as to why I called this briefing."
After NORTHCOM had been alerted to the situation in the Olympic Peninsula, they had dropped the issue in Lieutenant General Garrett Hudson's lap. Since the start of the war, the military base's duties had drastically changed, growing from a logistical command to a more strategically-oriented one.
A map of the eastern pacific was projected behind the general, highlighting his arm as he pointed towards the ocean.
"Three days ago, at 1421, a Fishing Trawler was boarded by a Wo-Class Abyssal." Sweeping his hand across the wall, the General continued. "Using the trawler's crew as hostages, the Wo-Class Abyssal approached the mainland, and after a short gunfight made landfall on the Olympic Peninsula. She's since disappeared into the forest park, and our job is going to be finding her.
"That leads to our first mission concern: with La Palma still fresh on the public's mind, news of a Wo in the Olympic Peninsula could cause as much damage as the Abyssal itself. Worst case, we're looking at mass panic in Seattle, Vancouver, and Portland. Not only would the chaos and congestion hinder our attempts to find this abyssal, there is a good chance we'll see an interruption in the efforts to to supply 7th Fleet and our Asian allies. This is not considering any consequences that may happen should our unwelcome visitor execute her plans."
Shame bloomed in Nashville's gut. Not only was her failure a disgrace to the navy and her class, but even if the monster starved to death in the forest people could die from the magnitude of their screw-up.
"I believe you all understand the importance of discretion. We're going to contain the Abyssal in the Olympic Peninsula, we're going to track her down, we're going to neutralize her, and we're going to do it in such a manner that it won't alert the public. Failure in any of these objectives is not an option.
"Thankfully, we have just the tool set to deal with her. Major General Manning's 7th infantry is here in full force right now, and should be able to establish a perimeter between Aberdeen and Kamilche. The highway will provide a vegetation-free line your men can monitor, while there's plenty of light pollution to assist your NV gear. If your infantry get eyes on the Alpha-Sierra, report it and trail the creature."
Nashville couldn't recognize the 7th's CO, but considering everyone else's glances, she could figure it out. The General was a surprisingly gruff man, his bald drawing attention to a scar that trailed down behind his ear. A lot of senior officers hadn't survived the opening stages of the Abyssal war, and if Nashville had to make a guess she'd think the grunt had almost joined that number.
"With the Navy and the 7th keeping her in the Olympic Peninsula, Colonel Walton's men will land at the Abyssal's last known location." Hudson continued. "Walton, how is the 2nd Ranger Battalion?"
The Ranger Colonel was about the same age as Murray, by far the youngest army officer in the room. Nashville had the suspicion the soldier hadn't held his position a year ago.
"I've got enough men for a manhunt, sir."
"Good." General Hudson nodded. "If anyone determines the location of the Abyssal, they're to avoid contact and call it in. Dealing with the Abyssal will be USS Nashville's job.
"Getting our Light Cruiser to the location of the Alpha Sierra will take time, however, and I'm told a Wo-Class has more horsepower than a Brooklyn, so as she's en route we'll be engaging her via aircraft. That's what the 190th is for. Major?"
Nashville had heard of the 190th fighter wing before, but she wasn't sure where. She felt herself sitting up somewhat as Major Goodwin spoke.
"The 190th has six 'hogs stationed at McCord. We could have two up constantly, but we can't hold that operational pace for long. We should be able to suppress her guns and keep her busy, but an A-10 isn't going to kill a Wo, especially on the ground."
Oh… one of the A-10 squadrons. Even though she'd only been in the modern world for a few months, she'd heard plenty about them. With its redundant equipment, titanium cockpit, and a gun that could cut a destroyer in half, the Warthog was one of the only airframes in the UN's inventory that could dive into abyssal AA screens and be expected to fly back out. Of course, that meant they'd been atritted to almost nothing by this point in the war. While the majority off the 190th was probably stationed elsewhere, the Light Cruiser would bet calling Major Goodwin's unit a 'fighter squadron' would be generous.
"It'll be good enough. I've been told the Navy has two alert-5 Hornets loaded with thermobarics at Whidbey Island. When Nashville has landed, they'll strike the Alpha-Sierra. The shock should stun the Abyssal while Nashville detains them. We take our first live Abyssal captive, the press gets some good news to offset the bad, and Japan gets its supplies on time."
So the fate of Washington, the next convoy, and the reputation of the military would boil down to a fistfight between shell-shocked Fleet Carrier and an airsick Light Cruiser. Lovely.
"Any questions?" General Hudson asked, before pointing at the Ranger. "Go ahead."
"You said this Abyssal took hostages?" Colonel Walton asked, before turning his attention to Murray. "Have Abyssals ever done that before?"
The spook shook his head. "As far as we're aware, this is a first."
That reminded her. Nashville brought a hand up, dropping it once Hudson nodded to her.
"We've seen her use civilians as a shield before. What is our plan if we find our abyssal in an urban area like Port Angeles?"
"If the Abyssal enters an urban location, we'll get a battleship from the navy. They tell me they couldn't afford to spare one on a weeks-long search, but if she's about to cause trouble in a town, you'll have plenty of backup." General Hudson replied. "Obviously we'll be calling off the air strikes as well.
"Any more questions?"
Silence hung in the briefing room for a few seconds.
"Dismissed. I want an estimation of when you all can deploy ASAP. Good hunting."
"Where's Lieutenant Murray?" Nashville asked, gladly accepting a paper cup from her escort. The Spook had been with her on the flight over, but he'd disappeared in the chaos between their landing and now.
"Debriefing General Hudson, sir." The young man replied, accepting the now-empty cup and refilling it. "He's formed a plan for dealing with the Abyssal, but he wants a Navy perspective on it. He would have called you in too, if…" He nodded towards the airfield, offering the refilled cup.
Nashville sighed, staring into her cup of water.
"How long ago was that?"
"About two, three minutes?" The Airman replied, speaking up again as the Brooklyn grimaced. "Permission to speak freely?"
"Granted." She replied, fairly sure it wasn't necessary.
"Every ship gets airsick, and it was a rough ride here. Nobody blames you for a headache." That wasn't entirely true, as carriers seemed to handle it just fine, but Nashville didn't feel like correcting him.
"Not good enough." Nashville mumbled, downing the cup in one swig.
"I'm sorry?"
"Not good enough." She repeated, handing the cup back to the man. "That was my first gun battle with another ship, you know? I spent all war swatting aircraft and cleaning islands, but I never found a surface ship to shoot at. Lord knows I tried."
Maybe it was the airsickness. Maybe she hadn't had enough sleep between now and Bikini. Maybe it was the knowledge she'd probably never meet this random zoomie again and didn't give a fuck about his opinion, but for some reason she felt the words keep coming.
"Now, my first target waves her carrier-sized ass at me from point blank, and I can't hit the broad side of a barn." She was being hard on herself, but there wasn't any regulation about being rational when you were venting. "Christ, some flagship I am. What'll Honolulu think? What the hell am I going to tell Phoenix or Boise, when they return?"
Of course, the Airman stayed silent. The rhetorical question hung in the air for a few seconds, before he finally pointed at Nashville's cup.
"Want me to-"
"Just grab me one of those." She cut the man off, waving at the deep blue jug atop the reservoir. "It'll save you some time."
- - -
The briefing room was practically empty. With only seven officers crammed into the front row, a smaller office probably would have worked just as well.
"Gentlemen, I guess you have suspicions as to why I called this briefing."
After NORTHCOM had been alerted to the situation in the Olympic Peninsula, they had dropped the issue in Lieutenant General Garrett Hudson's lap. Since the start of the war, the military base's duties had drastically changed, growing from a logistical command to a more strategically-oriented one.
A map of the eastern pacific was projected behind the general, highlighting his arm as he pointed towards the ocean.
"Three days ago, at 1421, a Fishing Trawler was boarded by a Wo-Class Abyssal." Sweeping his hand across the wall, the General continued. "Using the trawler's crew as hostages, the Wo-Class Abyssal approached the mainland, and after a short gunfight made landfall on the Olympic Peninsula. She's since disappeared into the forest park, and our job is going to be finding her.
"That leads to our first mission concern: with La Palma still fresh on the public's mind, news of a Wo in the Olympic Peninsula could cause as much damage as the Abyssal itself. Worst case, we're looking at mass panic in Seattle, Vancouver, and Portland. Not only would the chaos and congestion hinder our attempts to find this abyssal, there is a good chance we'll see an interruption in the efforts to to supply 7th Fleet and our Asian allies. This is not considering any consequences that may happen should our unwelcome visitor execute her plans."
Shame bloomed in Nashville's gut. Not only was her failure a disgrace to the navy and her class, but even if the monster starved to death in the forest people could die from the magnitude of their screw-up.
"I believe you all understand the importance of discretion. We're going to contain the Abyssal in the Olympic Peninsula, we're going to track her down, we're going to neutralize her, and we're going to do it in such a manner that it won't alert the public. Failure in any of these objectives is not an option.
"Thankfully, we have just the tool set to deal with her. Major General Manning's 7th infantry is here in full force right now, and should be able to establish a perimeter between Aberdeen and Kamilche. The highway will provide a vegetation-free line your men can monitor, while there's plenty of light pollution to assist your NV gear. If your infantry get eyes on the Alpha-Sierra, report it and trail the creature."
Nashville couldn't recognize the 7th's CO, but considering everyone else's glances, she could figure it out. The General was a surprisingly gruff man, his bald drawing attention to a scar that trailed down behind his ear. A lot of senior officers hadn't survived the opening stages of the Abyssal war, and if Nashville had to make a guess she'd think the grunt had almost joined that number.
"With the Navy and the 7th keeping her in the Olympic Peninsula, Colonel Walton's men will land at the Abyssal's last known location." Hudson continued. "Walton, how is the 2nd Ranger Battalion?"
The Ranger Colonel was about the same age as Murray, by far the youngest army officer in the room. Nashville had the suspicion the soldier hadn't held his position a year ago.
"I've got enough men for a manhunt, sir."
"Good." General Hudson nodded. "If anyone determines the location of the Abyssal, they're to avoid contact and call it in. Dealing with the Abyssal will be USS Nashville's job.
"Getting our Light Cruiser to the location of the Alpha Sierra will take time, however, and I'm told a Wo-Class has more horsepower than a Brooklyn, so as she's en route we'll be engaging her via aircraft. That's what the 190th is for. Major?"
Nashville had heard of the 190th fighter wing before, but she wasn't sure where. She felt herself sitting up somewhat as Major Goodwin spoke.
"The 190th has six 'hogs stationed at McCord. We could have two up constantly, but we can't hold that operational pace for long. We should be able to suppress her guns and keep her busy, but an A-10 isn't going to kill a Wo, especially on the ground."
Oh… one of the A-10 squadrons. Even though she'd only been in the modern world for a few months, she'd heard plenty about them. With its redundant equipment, titanium cockpit, and a gun that could cut a destroyer in half, the Warthog was one of the only airframes in the UN's inventory that could dive into abyssal AA screens and be expected to fly back out. Of course, that meant they'd been atritted to almost nothing by this point in the war. While the majority off the 190th was probably stationed elsewhere, the Light Cruiser would bet calling Major Goodwin's unit a 'fighter squadron' would be generous.
"It'll be good enough. I've been told the Navy has two alert-5 Hornets loaded with thermobarics at Whidbey Island. When Nashville has landed, they'll strike the Alpha-Sierra. The shock should stun the Abyssal while Nashville detains them. We take our first live Abyssal captive, the press gets some good news to offset the bad, and Japan gets its supplies on time."
So the fate of Washington, the next convoy, and the reputation of the military would boil down to a fistfight between shell-shocked Fleet Carrier and an airsick Light Cruiser. Lovely.
"Any questions?" General Hudson asked, before pointing at the Ranger. "Go ahead."
"You said this Abyssal took hostages?" Colonel Walton asked, before turning his attention to Murray. "Have Abyssals ever done that before?"
The spook shook his head. "As far as we're aware, this is a first."
That reminded her. Nashville brought a hand up, dropping it once Hudson nodded to her.
"We've seen her use civilians as a shield before. What is our plan if we find our abyssal in an urban area like Port Angeles?"
"If the Abyssal enters an urban location, we'll get a battleship from the navy. They tell me they couldn't afford to spare one on a weeks-long search, but if she's about to cause trouble in a town, you'll have plenty of backup." General Hudson replied. "Obviously we'll be calling off the air strikes as well.
"Any more questions?"
Silence hung in the briefing room for a few seconds.
"Dismissed. I want an estimation of when you all can deploy ASAP. Good hunting."
This was originally supposed to be a part of the next chapter, but I couldn't make it particularly funny and since it's mostly there to answer questions about the military response, I figured it would work best as an interlude. Hopefully I made it work better with some Nashville characterization and a bit of exposition about the rest of the world. A good portion of the next bit is already done, so expect it over the weekend.
Big thanks to those pointing out any errors I've been making (typos, technical mistakes, etc).
Big thanks to those pointing out any errors I've been making (typos, technical mistakes, etc).
Last edited:
Heaven Canceler
I would like to have a cool title.
- Location
- Austria
Huh... no mention of the captured Abyssal Fairy?
PyrrhicSteel
Look natural.
- Location
- Idaho
They're still stewing in Nashville's brig. No actionable intelligence yet, so either they didn't inform General Hudson or he didn't feel the need to pass that on to his subordinates.
well I mean, she is the whitest albino ever to walk the mainland, she totally will fit in among the other hitchhikers.
in retrospect, maybe it just because I never leave my area but I never seen a hitchhiker before, are they common in certain highways?
- Location
- Warszawa Polska
I very much looking forward to any ship-girl trying to confront another on land.
It's an interesting concept and I'm looking forward to how you go about it in your story.
It's an interesting concept and I'm looking forward to how you go about it in your story.
- Location
- earth's dirty crust
Inb4 trinite is actually busy getting lost and walking around in circle.
Well, at least trinite is to be captured now, not shot to death. But can she even withstand the attack? She's basically only floating trough sheer luck and stubbornness right now after all. Her armament is practically non-existent too.
Wonder how will Nashville feel when she knew she's basically hunting a lost wounded child searching for her mommy. And the fact that she kinda lost to her in the first fight. To be fair, trinite is probably the scariest wounded lost child ever.
And how will Saratoga (and any other shipgirl that used to be a high rank abyysal/princess) feel when they know what exactly trinite is doing?
Well, at least trinite is to be captured now, not shot to death. But can she even withstand the attack? She's basically only floating trough sheer luck and stubbornness right now after all. Her armament is practically non-existent too.
Wonder how will Nashville feel when she knew she's basically hunting a lost wounded child searching for her mommy. And the fact that she kinda lost to her in the first fight. To be fair, trinite is probably the scariest wounded lost child ever.
And how will Saratoga (and any other shipgirl that used to be a high rank abyysal/princess) feel when they know what exactly trinite is doing?
In the Pacific NorthWest? Very common, but they normally use the railways. Flat terrain that cops don't frequent, possibility to jump a train for a free ride, and the option to return to state roads and hitch a ride locally.
At least that was my experience while I was in Central Oregon.
Neruz
Rogue Spiderbanana
- Location
- The Land of Fire and Poison
Unless her compass is wrecked, she should at least be able to maintain a vaguely constant heading.
- Location
- Warszawa Polska
Yes and No.
A carrier has so many navigational aids it's not even funny. To many to list all. She will always know precisely where she is.
On the flipside, she doesn't have a land map of the US. Trinitate mused in the story "how big the US could be?". At first I read it as, her being naive and not actually knowing the distances involved.
But she is a ship. She is a carrier and she knows navigation, she must know the dimentions of the North American Continent.
But here her way of thinking brakes apart.
For a ship the area of US is not that big. Ships travel distances like that all the time. The problem is she has no frame of references. Lets say she sees a road sign that says something is a 100 miles away. Forgetting she is used distances be given in nautical and imperial miles. She would think a 100 miles is just spitting distance. Har radar if it worked could see planes that far out. Her plans would get there in half an hour. She at cruising speed would get there in four hours tops. But she is on foot. The travel times are far diffrent. On sea you don't need to walk around a mountain or large ditches. There are no bushes or houses in the way.
She is capable of checking every part of an area the size of the USA in a week, IF it was water. For her land is more or less the part of the map that says "here be Dragons". She is lost not because she cannot find a way she would be lost because she is a "stranger in a strange land".
Neruz
Rogue Spiderbanana
- Location
- The Land of Fire and Poison
Oh sure, she has no clue how to navigate land and will no doubt get extremely stuck, or at least vastly underestimate how long it will take to navigate a given distance. But stuck != lost, unless literally all her navigational tools are dead, including the venerable compass, and she is somehow unable to bodge together an improvised compass (probably impossible) then at the very least she should be able to keep herself going in vaguely the right direction and not get actually lost.
Having been a Scout back in high school, I'm familiar with navigating chunks of uninhabited forest and scrubland with nothing more than a map and compass to guide oneself. Having then decided the Scouts were too easy and switched to Cadets (think babies first pretend army training) as soon as I was old enough to do so, I am also familiar with navigating even gnarlier chunks of terrain with literally no navigational aids other than the sun and stars, and only a verbal description of the target area. Getting delayed, obstructed, stuck, turned around and otherwise prevented from taking the obvious easy route to your destination is the standard state of affairs for such orienteering, but actually getting outright lost is a lot harder than you'd think, as long as you have decent navigational training...
And actually listened to your NCO when they were telling you where you were supposed to be going, Michael.
And of course, Trini does have some serious physical advantages over me, even damaged as she is, so I can't see her getting actually lost. She should at least be able to maintain a vaguely eastward heading, interspersed with the occasional backtrack to get around an inconvenient cliff or impassable thicket or something, though being made out of metal she can probably just plough right through thickets and the like that would stop me and force an alternate route.
For John Rando, citygoer extraordinaire who has never seen a truly wild animal in his life, getting lost in a forest is to be expected. But for a soldier, trained in navigation and armed with a mighty compass, getting actually outright lost is rather unusual. And Trini is in a substantially better position than a soldier with a compass, even when taking into account her lack of familiarity with the situation. It's going to take her ten times as long to traverse as she expects, and her path will be filled with inexplicable twists and turns and wiggly bits thanks to various obstructions, but she shouldn't actually get lost.
Last edited:
9: Improvise. Adapt. Wo-vercome.
PyrrhicSteel
Look natural.
- Location
- Idaho
"Blegh."
Trinitite grimaced, pushing the freshly-downed tree away from her. She'd thought the rod-straight trees would make perfect planking to repair and brace her flight deck, but when she'd bitten in, she'd been overwhelmed by a strange, sticky substance that stuck to her hands and gummed her teeth together. She'd keep some of the strange wood in her hold, but if she actually wanted to use it it would need to dry and… be treated, somehow. Hopefully her fairies could figure things out once she got some actual resources.
Frustrated, Trinitite stood, her aborted meal disappearing in the darkness. It was midnight, and a low blanket of clouds ensured she was walking in pitch darkness. With only the glow from her eyes to guide her, she was having trouble making distance. Focus on the trees and bushes ahead of her, and she would find herself tripping as the rough ground pitched up and down. Focus on her feet, and by the time she'd noticed low-hanging vegetation A branch would be painfully jamming itself into the hole in her deck. She tried to keep an eye on her compass, but as the ground got more treacherous it became harder and harder pick a direction and stick with it.
On top of it all, if she didn't find food soon it wasn't going to matter. She had plenty of fuel left. Thanks to the ride the fishermen had given her, she'd been running on only one boiler and had much more fuel than she'd predicted. It was going to take a while before she had to worry about that, but she couldn't use oil for repairs and rations. There were plenty of creatures, but without giving her position away with guns or aircraft she had no idea how to hunt them. Maybe she could lay some sort of trap…
Contact, astern!
Trinitite spun at her lookout's call, her tentacles flailing to prevent her from falling in the uneven terrain. There, startlingly close to The Abyssal, a pair of eyes reflected the light from her own.
Trinitite froze, her boiler pressure spiking as the carrier returned the thing's stare.
"EHAAAAAAAaaaAAA!"
Alarms blared in Trinitite's mind as the unnatural scream filled her awareness. The carrier lept backwards, replying to the scream with one of her own. What kind of creature was this? Was she getting stalked by another Abyssal? Perhaps she'd run into some supernatural entity that lurked in these woods, and her trespass was about to be repaid. Despite bristling with weapons, covered in armor, and enough horsepower to break a stone in half, she suddenly felt vastly outclassed.
So she ran.
Almost immediately, a weight fell on her back, claws wrapping around her shoulders as she realized how terrible a mistake she'd made.
As the abyssal was thrown to the ground, she found visions of her princess passing through her mind. Fangs dug into her hair, hooking around her ear as she slammed into a particularly sharp rock. Was was finally going to manage what the Navy could not?
I'm sorry, mother.
…Hold on, the thing's claws weren't digging any deeper, and the creature's dull teeth had failed to pierce her skin. A fang had hooked into her ear, and while it hurt it wasn't tearing anything.
Trinitite wasn't nearly flexible enough to reach the monster on top of her with her hands. Her tentacles were free, however.
The creature recoiled, scrambling against Trinitite's cape, but it was too late. She'd gotten a solid hold of the the thing's neck.
It was time for some revenge. As an added bonus, it seemed Trinitite wasn't going to starve this week.
- - -
"What do you think?"
Mark Little was too old for the military, and even if he wasn't he probably wouldn't have signed up. National parks weren't seeing as much attention as they once did, but keeping them safe for future generations was vital. The war would eventually end, and when that happened people would appreciate having a national park to return to.
This, though…
"I'm not sure."
Mark, along with his partner Jess, had been called in by a backpacker who'd been babbling about 'strange noises in the night' and a 'really weird carcass.' When they'd first responded, the Rangers had no doubt he was just some college kid who saw his first dead deer. If he hadn't sounded so scared when he'd called them over the radio, the pair would have taken their time. When they were approaching at the backpacker's claimed location, though…
Both rangers agreed that finding parts of a Mountain Lion spread a mile from either side of the Queets river qualified as 'weird'.
Now, the two park rangers were pacing with the backpacker, following a trail that had been left in the woods. Where it wasn't marked by gore, shattered branches and overturned stones marked the creature's path, more than one bush suffering where the thing decided to shoulder through it instead of around.
"I've never seen something like this." Mark came to a stop, kneeling next to a shattered rib. "Nothing out here crushes their prey."
"Nobody's this picky about fur, either." Jess added, bending over a strip of ant-covered skin. When the backpacker knelt down next to her, she turned to address him. "What happened, again?"
"I was in my hammock…" The man stood, pointing downslope "...over there, when I got woken by this horrible screaming noise. I'm fairly sure it was this mountain lion."
When the park rangers had found the man, he was kneeling near the remains of a leg, bear spray clenched in one hand and radio in the other. His sky-blue jacket had made him easy enough to find, and it's hood was down, despite the rain. As they inspected the carnage, he kept looking away, eyes darting between the distant trees.
"It seemed pretty close, so I reached for my bear spray, but before I'd gotten ready I heard this big crack, like someone had ripped one of the trees in half. I had trouble getting back to sleep, but it was quiet for the rest of the night. If I hadn't stumbled upon this I wouldn't have called you."
"I'm not sure I can make a ruling on this." Mark replied, standing and patting the hiker's shoulder. "We'll take some pictures, then escort you back to the station, right?"
The hiker nodded. "Yeah."
The clouds above brightened as the two rangers collected evidence, the hiker nervously sticking to the pair.
A hip, also shattered.
Another bone, marrow removed and its fragments covered in unfamiliar scratches.
A muddy footprint, bare and disturbingly human.
Mark hadn't been certain when he'd started viewing the carnage, but the more he studied the site, the harder it had become to deny it.
"We need to close the park." He stated, interrupting the silence that had settled between the three.
"You're thinking this is…" Jess asked, trailing off as she examined another section of discarded fur.
"Yeah." Matt added, looking up at the hiker. "Sir, it seems that you've survived an encounter with an Abyssal."
The man's face went pale, his imagination no doubt painting all sorts of terrible ways last night could have gone. Matt had to agree. Somehow, one of those genocidal things was loose in one of the most popular national parks in the United States. Did the military know?
If this mountain lion was the first victim, who was next?
- - -
"...And I'll kneel down,
"Know my ground,
"And I will wait I will wait for you..."
The airwaves in Human territory were cluttered with… Trinitite wasn't sure what. As she made her way southwest, she started picking up more and more transmissions, growing as she ascended ridges and fading as she wandered into valleys.
The Abyssal was completely flummoxed as to the purpose of these. They didn't follow any communication protocols she knew, and all the noise they were making certainly didn't help get their message across. If there even was one. She was fairly sure there was some meaning to the weird babbling that emanated from her receiver, but when Trinitite tried to focus on what was being said she just found herself frustrated by pointless vaugeries and repetitions.
"...I can feel the rain reminding me,
"In the eye of the storm, You remain in…"
Who would put so much effort into ensuring the ravings of the insane were broadcast for everyone to hear? From the sheer number of these transmissions she had to guess they were either extremely common or incredibly powerful. Either this… alien habit was endemic among humans, or they were willing to build and power massive transmitters for the sole purpose of transmitting it.
Was it for navigation? No, they had that 'GPS' thing that had to be much more reliable.
Was all of this information so useless? She couldn't stop sifting through them, but these transmissions were giving her a headache.
Maybe that was because of her hunger. The creature that had attacked her was tough, stringy, and didn't sit too well on the Abyssal's digestion. Briefly, she wondered how it would have tasted if she'd let a human cook and prepare it, but she quickly suppressed the thought.
Although, this was going to be a stealth mission. Perhaps entertaining such thoughts would be useful.
The animal also wasn't nearly enough to keep her fed. She estimated it gave her another week, after which she wasn't sure what the plan was. The human navy was fairly large- and apparently it was a fraction of a much larger population, even when grouped with the Army and Firebringers. She'd have to figure out how they got their food and copy that.
"...I've got to be free!
"Free to face the life, that's ahead of me.
"On board, I'm the captain, so climb aboard…"
If she could make it, that is. Even with her food supplies depleted by the gunfight off the coast, she had thought she could make it to the port across the western bay. However, the dense mountains she was walking through significantly increased her travel time, and while she'd seen thicker vegetation in the south pacific she'd never tried marching through it.
That meant, even with her latest meal, she wasn't feeling confident about getting to the distant port. Add in another encounter with the Navy, and even if she got out she was going to starve.
She still wasn't any better at hunting, unless she was willing to give away her position by shooting. If things got desperate, she was still armed, and the way she saw things risking detection was better than guaranteeing a death by starvation.
"Come on, dance, jump on it
"If you sexy then flaunt it,
"If you freaky then own it…"
Okay, what did that even mean? What kinds of machines produced those noises? She was loosely reminded of the strange tunes and calls she'd heard from birds over her life, but she didn't pretend to understand those either. Radios were for conferring important information to distant individuals. Without the safe use of her aircraft, listening to their transmissions was the closest thing to actual reconnaissance she was going to get, but the surreal nature of these broadcasts was making it hard for her to think straight. Was everything in this collection of frequencies as weird as this?
"...the most disastrous war policy we've seen since Vietnam!"
Hold on. This person was speaking in a natural, if animated tone, and seemed to be discussing the war.
Perfect.
"Coming up, we've the defense industry's aggressive lobbying in Congress, as well as a deeper look into our refugee crisis. You're listening to the Ron Martin show, see you after these messages."
More of the strange noises came up, but Trinitite stayed on that frequency. The transmission was fairly faint, meaning while she wouldn't be able to hear it while she crossed this valley, it seemed the most useful transmission so far. She'd listen in for a few hours, and hopefully she'd get an idea of what she was running into.
"The future of printing is here!"
…or she might get more confused.
Trinitite grimaced, pushing the freshly-downed tree away from her. She'd thought the rod-straight trees would make perfect planking to repair and brace her flight deck, but when she'd bitten in, she'd been overwhelmed by a strange, sticky substance that stuck to her hands and gummed her teeth together. She'd keep some of the strange wood in her hold, but if she actually wanted to use it it would need to dry and… be treated, somehow. Hopefully her fairies could figure things out once she got some actual resources.
Frustrated, Trinitite stood, her aborted meal disappearing in the darkness. It was midnight, and a low blanket of clouds ensured she was walking in pitch darkness. With only the glow from her eyes to guide her, she was having trouble making distance. Focus on the trees and bushes ahead of her, and she would find herself tripping as the rough ground pitched up and down. Focus on her feet, and by the time she'd noticed low-hanging vegetation A branch would be painfully jamming itself into the hole in her deck. She tried to keep an eye on her compass, but as the ground got more treacherous it became harder and harder pick a direction and stick with it.
On top of it all, if she didn't find food soon it wasn't going to matter. She had plenty of fuel left. Thanks to the ride the fishermen had given her, she'd been running on only one boiler and had much more fuel than she'd predicted. It was going to take a while before she had to worry about that, but she couldn't use oil for repairs and rations. There were plenty of creatures, but without giving her position away with guns or aircraft she had no idea how to hunt them. Maybe she could lay some sort of trap…
Contact, astern!
Trinitite spun at her lookout's call, her tentacles flailing to prevent her from falling in the uneven terrain. There, startlingly close to The Abyssal, a pair of eyes reflected the light from her own.
Trinitite froze, her boiler pressure spiking as the carrier returned the thing's stare.
"EHAAAAAAAaaaAAA!"
Alarms blared in Trinitite's mind as the unnatural scream filled her awareness. The carrier lept backwards, replying to the scream with one of her own. What kind of creature was this? Was she getting stalked by another Abyssal? Perhaps she'd run into some supernatural entity that lurked in these woods, and her trespass was about to be repaid. Despite bristling with weapons, covered in armor, and enough horsepower to break a stone in half, she suddenly felt vastly outclassed.
So she ran.
Almost immediately, a weight fell on her back, claws wrapping around her shoulders as she realized how terrible a mistake she'd made.
As the abyssal was thrown to the ground, she found visions of her princess passing through her mind. Fangs dug into her hair, hooking around her ear as she slammed into a particularly sharp rock. Was was finally going to manage what the Navy could not?
I'm sorry, mother.
…Hold on, the thing's claws weren't digging any deeper, and the creature's dull teeth had failed to pierce her skin. A fang had hooked into her ear, and while it hurt it wasn't tearing anything.
Trinitite wasn't nearly flexible enough to reach the monster on top of her with her hands. Her tentacles were free, however.
The creature recoiled, scrambling against Trinitite's cape, but it was too late. She'd gotten a solid hold of the the thing's neck.
It was time for some revenge. As an added bonus, it seemed Trinitite wasn't going to starve this week.
- - -
"What do you think?"
Mark Little was too old for the military, and even if he wasn't he probably wouldn't have signed up. National parks weren't seeing as much attention as they once did, but keeping them safe for future generations was vital. The war would eventually end, and when that happened people would appreciate having a national park to return to.
This, though…
"I'm not sure."
Mark, along with his partner Jess, had been called in by a backpacker who'd been babbling about 'strange noises in the night' and a 'really weird carcass.' When they'd first responded, the Rangers had no doubt he was just some college kid who saw his first dead deer. If he hadn't sounded so scared when he'd called them over the radio, the pair would have taken their time. When they were approaching at the backpacker's claimed location, though…
Both rangers agreed that finding parts of a Mountain Lion spread a mile from either side of the Queets river qualified as 'weird'.
Now, the two park rangers were pacing with the backpacker, following a trail that had been left in the woods. Where it wasn't marked by gore, shattered branches and overturned stones marked the creature's path, more than one bush suffering where the thing decided to shoulder through it instead of around.
"I've never seen something like this." Mark came to a stop, kneeling next to a shattered rib. "Nothing out here crushes their prey."
"Nobody's this picky about fur, either." Jess added, bending over a strip of ant-covered skin. When the backpacker knelt down next to her, she turned to address him. "What happened, again?"
"I was in my hammock…" The man stood, pointing downslope "...over there, when I got woken by this horrible screaming noise. I'm fairly sure it was this mountain lion."
When the park rangers had found the man, he was kneeling near the remains of a leg, bear spray clenched in one hand and radio in the other. His sky-blue jacket had made him easy enough to find, and it's hood was down, despite the rain. As they inspected the carnage, he kept looking away, eyes darting between the distant trees.
"It seemed pretty close, so I reached for my bear spray, but before I'd gotten ready I heard this big crack, like someone had ripped one of the trees in half. I had trouble getting back to sleep, but it was quiet for the rest of the night. If I hadn't stumbled upon this I wouldn't have called you."
"I'm not sure I can make a ruling on this." Mark replied, standing and patting the hiker's shoulder. "We'll take some pictures, then escort you back to the station, right?"
The hiker nodded. "Yeah."
The clouds above brightened as the two rangers collected evidence, the hiker nervously sticking to the pair.
A hip, also shattered.
Another bone, marrow removed and its fragments covered in unfamiliar scratches.
A muddy footprint, bare and disturbingly human.
Mark hadn't been certain when he'd started viewing the carnage, but the more he studied the site, the harder it had become to deny it.
"We need to close the park." He stated, interrupting the silence that had settled between the three.
"You're thinking this is…" Jess asked, trailing off as she examined another section of discarded fur.
"Yeah." Matt added, looking up at the hiker. "Sir, it seems that you've survived an encounter with an Abyssal."
The man's face went pale, his imagination no doubt painting all sorts of terrible ways last night could have gone. Matt had to agree. Somehow, one of those genocidal things was loose in one of the most popular national parks in the United States. Did the military know?
If this mountain lion was the first victim, who was next?
- - -
"...And I'll kneel down,
"Know my ground,
"And I will wait I will wait for you..."
The airwaves in Human territory were cluttered with… Trinitite wasn't sure what. As she made her way southwest, she started picking up more and more transmissions, growing as she ascended ridges and fading as she wandered into valleys.
The Abyssal was completely flummoxed as to the purpose of these. They didn't follow any communication protocols she knew, and all the noise they were making certainly didn't help get their message across. If there even was one. She was fairly sure there was some meaning to the weird babbling that emanated from her receiver, but when Trinitite tried to focus on what was being said she just found herself frustrated by pointless vaugeries and repetitions.
"...I can feel the rain reminding me,
"In the eye of the storm, You remain in…"
Who would put so much effort into ensuring the ravings of the insane were broadcast for everyone to hear? From the sheer number of these transmissions she had to guess they were either extremely common or incredibly powerful. Either this… alien habit was endemic among humans, or they were willing to build and power massive transmitters for the sole purpose of transmitting it.
Was it for navigation? No, they had that 'GPS' thing that had to be much more reliable.
Was all of this information so useless? She couldn't stop sifting through them, but these transmissions were giving her a headache.
Maybe that was because of her hunger. The creature that had attacked her was tough, stringy, and didn't sit too well on the Abyssal's digestion. Briefly, she wondered how it would have tasted if she'd let a human cook and prepare it, but she quickly suppressed the thought.
Although, this was going to be a stealth mission. Perhaps entertaining such thoughts would be useful.
The animal also wasn't nearly enough to keep her fed. She estimated it gave her another week, after which she wasn't sure what the plan was. The human navy was fairly large- and apparently it was a fraction of a much larger population, even when grouped with the Army and Firebringers. She'd have to figure out how they got their food and copy that.
"...I've got to be free!
"Free to face the life, that's ahead of me.
"On board, I'm the captain, so climb aboard…"
If she could make it, that is. Even with her food supplies depleted by the gunfight off the coast, she had thought she could make it to the port across the western bay. However, the dense mountains she was walking through significantly increased her travel time, and while she'd seen thicker vegetation in the south pacific she'd never tried marching through it.
That meant, even with her latest meal, she wasn't feeling confident about getting to the distant port. Add in another encounter with the Navy, and even if she got out she was going to starve.
She still wasn't any better at hunting, unless she was willing to give away her position by shooting. If things got desperate, she was still armed, and the way she saw things risking detection was better than guaranteeing a death by starvation.
"Come on, dance, jump on it
"If you sexy then flaunt it,
"If you freaky then own it…"
Okay, what did that even mean? What kinds of machines produced those noises? She was loosely reminded of the strange tunes and calls she'd heard from birds over her life, but she didn't pretend to understand those either. Radios were for conferring important information to distant individuals. Without the safe use of her aircraft, listening to their transmissions was the closest thing to actual reconnaissance she was going to get, but the surreal nature of these broadcasts was making it hard for her to think straight. Was everything in this collection of frequencies as weird as this?
"...the most disastrous war policy we've seen since Vietnam!"
Hold on. This person was speaking in a natural, if animated tone, and seemed to be discussing the war.
Perfect.
"Coming up, we've the defense industry's aggressive lobbying in Congress, as well as a deeper look into our refugee crisis. You're listening to the Ron Martin show, see you after these messages."
More of the strange noises came up, but Trinitite stayed on that frequency. The transmission was fairly faint, meaning while she wouldn't be able to hear it while she crossed this valley, it seemed the most useful transmission so far. She'd listen in for a few hours, and hopefully she'd get an idea of what she was running into.
"The future of printing is here!"
…or she might get more confused.
This chapter I reminded myself why I never listen to political talk radio. Mentioning certain political topics in the future (refugees, immigration, etc) will be unavoidable, but in a effort to both give an even-handed portrayal (and not straw-man any particular point of view) I won't be approaching it through radio.
Anyways, when I started writing this I wasn't too exited about portraying "fish out of water" jokes. I've read so many GATE fanfics that writing a character oohing and aahing at everything they run into seemed pretty cliche. However, an abyssal has a much different outlook on civilization and culture, as well as several ways to experience it that just aren't available to your average "trapped in the real world" fantasy character, as well as powers that mean they won't be impressed by everything. That's got me a bit more exited to write, really. It should be pretty unique.
EDIT: for those of you who don't live in Mountain Lion territory, this is what they sound like
Anyways, when I started writing this I wasn't too exited about portraying "fish out of water" jokes. I've read so many GATE fanfics that writing a character oohing and aahing at everything they run into seemed pretty cliche. However, an abyssal has a much different outlook on civilization and culture, as well as several ways to experience it that just aren't available to your average "trapped in the real world" fantasy character, as well as powers that mean they won't be impressed by everything. That's got me a bit more exited to write, really. It should be pretty unique.
EDIT: for those of you who don't live in Mountain Lion territory, this is what they sound like
Last edited:
- Location
- earth's dirty crust
and so begin trinite-chan journey into proper human civilization and not just "rawr enemy boat and boatgirl incoming" hordes.
she's gonna do a lot of stupid shit on the way, yet somehow suriving trough it all, won't she? also, how exactly the material she needed for repair will be consumed? literally eating it? magical bullshit thing?
she's gonna do a lot of stupid shit on the way, yet somehow suriving trough it all, won't she? also, how exactly the material she needed for repair will be consumed? literally eating it? magical bullshit thing?
Well done - yes, our poor Wo has only a short time on the trawler to have acclimated herself to human, and in particular American, culture.
Or perhaps corrupted - what kind of real Abyssal wonders what properly cooked and seasoned mountain lion tastes like? Real Abyssals only use mountain lions as fodder for their sharks, am I right?
I actually find myself very curious what kind of music Trinitite's going to end up liking, to her own horror.
A well done story - very enjoyable! Raw wood not being prepared and treated lumber makes perfect sense.
Or perhaps corrupted - what kind of real Abyssal wonders what properly cooked and seasoned mountain lion tastes like? Real Abyssals only use mountain lions as fodder for their sharks, am I right?
I actually find myself very curious what kind of music Trinitite's going to end up liking, to her own horror.
A well done story - very enjoyable! Raw wood not being prepared and treated lumber makes perfect sense.
Wolfsroses59
Knee deep in the Doot
- Location
- United States, Texas
Wo-chan discovers YouTube when she starts working?
And conspiracy theorist radio shows.
And conspiracy theorist radio shows.
Last edited:
- Location
- United States
Maybe Alestorm or Sabaton? Or something not metal at all. It would be funny if she ends up liking something really cutesy.
jwolfe_beta
Semi Genre-Savvy Overlord
- Location
- Canada
Last edited:
*stops chewing*
how did the civvie contact the rangers and why didn't wo pick up on it?
or the navy?
how did the civvie contact the rangers and why didn't wo pick up on it?
or the navy?
