- Location
- Neptune
All Wo-rk and No Play: An Abyssal's Trials in the Job Market (KC)
- Thread starter PyrrhicSteel
- Start date
Martin Bajar - The DIY repair bath
The DIY repair bath
"I'm so sorry", Alex said once more. He had been using a second hand spray painter for one of his larger models, which broke down, leading to quite a bit of paint getting all over Trinitite's clothing. At least the small bit on her face was easily cleaned off.
At the end, Paloma filled a nice hot tub and told "Sarah" to relax in there while Paloma herself cleaned the clothing. Alex had the harder job, namely getting all of the paint cleaned up from the floor and the walls.
_______________________________________________
Trinitite was a bit surprised by the bath salts, those didn't smell all too different from what was usually put in a repair bath. Not being all too familiar with all the various bottles, she eventually put everything that smelled right in the bath. It wasn't entirely right, but it did do the job. While Trinitite relaxed in the bath, her crew managed to, not exactly repair the elevator, or her deck. But at least ensure her oerlikons and bofors were once again operational. And that was just half an hour of bathing.
"How long would it take for full repairs?" she asked her chief engineer, who was pleasantly surprised the DIY bath actually worked, somewhat (if not even half of the efficiency of a proper repair bath)
So all she needed was to convince the humans it was necessary to stay for 120 hours in a bath? That should be doable, no?
At the end Trinitite stayed another hour in the bath before finally getting out. Her five inch guns and her radar systems were now also repaired. Yes, she knew she couldn't use them without being noticed. But having them working once more felt great.
"I'm so sorry", Alex said once more. He had been using a second hand spray painter for one of his larger models, which broke down, leading to quite a bit of paint getting all over Trinitite's clothing. At least the small bit on her face was easily cleaned off.
At the end, Paloma filled a nice hot tub and told "Sarah" to relax in there while Paloma herself cleaned the clothing. Alex had the harder job, namely getting all of the paint cleaned up from the floor and the walls.
_______________________________________________
Trinitite was a bit surprised by the bath salts, those didn't smell all too different from what was usually put in a repair bath. Not being all too familiar with all the various bottles, she eventually put everything that smelled right in the bath. It wasn't entirely right, but it did do the job. While Trinitite relaxed in the bath, her crew managed to, not exactly repair the elevator, or her deck. But at least ensure her oerlikons and bofors were once again operational. And that was just half an hour of bathing.
"How long would it take for full repairs?" she asked her chief engineer, who was pleasantly surprised the DIY bath actually worked, somewhat (if not even half of the efficiency of a proper repair bath)
So all she needed was to convince the humans it was necessary to stay for 120 hours in a bath? That should be doable, no?
At the end Trinitite stayed another hour in the bath before finally getting out. Her five inch guns and her radar systems were now also repaired. Yes, she knew she couldn't use them without being noticed. But having them working once more felt great.
If Galindo recuits Trin and tries to get her to enlist as a cullinary specialist, I can't think of any position not directly related to shipgirls that would be more likely to encounter them.
Entropy Judge
Recurring Bouts of Misanthropy
Saratoga: I am only a shipgirl, dear - I'm supposed to salute you, not the other way around.
Admiral Trinitite: Yes, Mom! - Ma'am, I said Ma'am!
Saratoga: ... Oh.
OstermanA
(Unverified Penguin)
- Location
- $PWD
OK, so, having just finished binging this, I have to say that I'm genuinely hoping that upon learning just what the Abyss had done to Saratoga, Trinitite manages to purge herself of the Abyss just like her mom, becoming a proper if oddly configured Essex-class carrier.
Completely blowing everyone's minds by showing that Princesses aren't the only ones who can shake off the Abyss, if sufficiently motivated.
Completely blowing everyone's minds by showing that Princesses aren't the only ones who can shake off the Abyss, if sufficiently motivated.
PyrrhicSteel
Look natural.
- Location
- Idaho
Unfortunately things happening exactly like that would be impossible, despite Trinitite technically being a corrupted spirit. However, there's something... similar she will be pulling attempting that hopefully you'll find acceptable.
OstermanA
(Unverified Penguin)
- Location
- $PWD
As long as she gives a big ol' middle finger to the Abyss in general I suspect I'll be quite happy.
The Abyss is the only reason that she even has this opportunity. I mean, sure, it is demonstrating some pretty poor behaviour, but we don't know what factors it is dealing with, there could be some magical issue that makes this look a lot like the lesser of two evils, and even if its resurrections are pretty dodgy, just revealing the mere possibility is a pretty nice gift, albeit one that will most assuredly be misused as soon as humanity cracks it...
- Location
- America
She….she's not going to try summoning one of her siblings, right?
Pretty sure her current income can't support two carriers.
She isn't paying rent, it's probably possible if they tighten their belts...
Annoyed Catholic - From out of Left Field...
Annoyed Catholic
Moody fellow
Strange Shipgirls in a Strange Land
What could have been...
From out of Left Field...
Or Where a Squire is Left Holding the Bag to Explain Things Before the Rest of the Heroes Arrive
Of Course Zuikaku (or whoever the unconscious shipgirl actually was), HAS to wake up then and there and start having some kind of magical fit...
And everyone, INCLUDING the Emperor of Mankind, can only watch as they find themselves . . . frozen in place. Except for one bruised and battered Red Shirted figure in Kirk's crew who is growling in anger as he struggles to break the wooden stocks he finds himself trapped in.
"THiS iSN'T rIght!" he mutters darkly, seeing an opportunity passing by as he can but just watch from afar!
Meanwhile...
The Crane Princess pauses from her fussing over her little box of baby Wo-class Abyssal and looks up at her . . .Other.
"Phew... That's enough," she whispers, looking momentarily distressed as if at the start of an existent crisis. Only to calm as she glances at one of the babes by her as she give her a toothless grin.
"I mean... I did what I could have done...," she continues, nodding to herself as if coming to a conclusion. But frowning as she finds . . .she
cannot stop speaking those haunting words. The words she remembers haven spoken right before starting to sink below the waves for the last time. Right before realizing something had been VERY wrong but being unable to stop her death monolog. Her lying monolog! "That's right... at that day... at that sea... I did what I could have done... Eh? You, you are... me...I see... Alright!"
"I am the Crane Princess," she nods to herself, satisfied as to who she is for a few seconds only to look up in alarm as her Other's "fit" becomes more alarmingly "pronounced" for lack of better words.
"W-who am I then if I am over there?" Zuikaku whispers alarmed, slowly sitting up and staring into the middle distance and seeing nothing. "If . . . i-if the Crane Princess is me, does that make me not Zuikaku all along? Does that mean that I am Zuikaku and she is Zuikaku? We're both Zuikaku? Both the Crane Princess? That makes no sense! I am over here and she was over there? Does that mean that she was actually Defending mankind as the I was actually trying to kill every last human being?
"No . . .that makes no sense. That is NOT who I am but . . . Who am I then? I am? I a-am. I am!!"
The Crane Princess' rigging (the toothy creature that was part mechanical shark and part landing strip) rears up and stands before Zuikaku and the Crane Princes with her infants, protecting them.
Paying no mind, poor Zuikaku has a look of exhalation comes to her face as she stands suddenly, her rigging (having already manifested earlier) begins to flicker in and out of existence wildly. Then her "landing deck" part of her rigging suddenly drops off to the side, forgotten as she suddenly morphs into somebody else!
"I'm Zuihou," the shipgirl chirps brightly. "I'm a light carrier, but with proper experience, I'll be able to show you that I perform as well as an aircraft carrier."
She then flickers back into Zuikaku and the majority (but not ALL) of her rigging back to "normal." looking put out massively as she shakes her head in confusion.
"No, no I am not Zuihou!" she mutters to herself.
"But . . .you are Zuikaku!" the Crane Princess protests, looking concerned for her confused . . .Other's distress. She would go over to hug the Other, but finds her way blocked by not only her fussing box of infant Wo-classes, but her sharky landing deck (who fears for her mistress' safety).
Meanwhile, Zuikaku's dropped landing deck has . . .morphed slightly into something a bit . . .toothier. That is unnoticed by the two shipgirls however.
"No I'm not!!" the shipgirl in distress protests loudly, looking back at the Princess. "I am? I am? I am!"
"Hmpf, it seems that I've kept you waiting ...," a well-tanned and busty Japanese Battleship says proudly as she looks over at the Crane Princess. "Second of the Yamato -class battleships, Musashi, has arrived!"
The battleship shipgirl then morphs back into Zuikaku, who staggers about for a few seconds before looking at the Crane Princess again, alarmed.
"What was that?!" the poor aircraft carrier blinks. "I thought that I was . . .Musashi? But? I am NOT her! But . . .I am actually Zuikaku?"
A hopeful look passes over her face, only to fall and disappear into her head shaking in denial, rejecting such a notion! Anything else that the Crane Princess would have said on the matter is interrupted by Zuikaku's discarded rigging as it starts . . .growling at the Crane Princess. Both aircraft carrier shipgirls look over in askance as they witness Zuikaku's discarded landing deck has now sprouted both TEETH and . . .Musashi's powerful battleship guns! Looking like a more colorful version of the Crane Princess' sharky landing deck!
And of course, that change seems to jump then to Zuikaku herself in the span of a mere handful of seconds. First change Zuikaku finds her dark green hair turning plain black and then starts to braid itself again and again into twin tails, mimicking the wild hairstyle of the Crane Princess. Second change which sweeps through Zuikaku is the short red skirt that she'd been sporting changes into the red shorts that Zuihou had been sporting. Then almost instantly after that, the red and white hachimaki that the other aircraft carrier shipgirl had worn as a headband now adorns Zuikaku as a belt (worn like how the Crane Princess wears it).
Yeah, Zuikaku (or whoever this actually is here) morphs into a more colorful version of the Crane Princess . . .including the fact Zuikaku now as busty as the Crane Princess (and Musashi).
Oh! And her now glowing PURPLE eyes! Let us not forget that! Must not forget that!!
"But-but-but!" the transformed Zuikaku protests, looking increasingly panicked and shaking her head violently in denial. She wanted to be herself, not a mere Mirror!! "But what? What?!"
"Princess Zuikaku?" a young teenage boy's voice calls out from the side, interrupting Zuikaku's slide into a mental breakdown. "I got a bunch of your misplaced kiddies here you might want to take claim of here?"
A figure in tan POWER Armor of indeterminant origin steps past the growling guardians and then steps forward with a box of oddly familiar looking Wo-class infants. Yep, a box of Wo-class aircraft carrier baby shipgirls who are identical to the Crane Princess' ones in fact.
Going past the pair of growling shark/landing deck rigging things as if they weren't even there, the young man in power armor goes. The rigging . . .things are left in Shock at being totally ignored; the twin toothy THINGS instead watch in befuddlement as the teenager stops in front of both shipgirl princesses and then gestures at the box of precious infants.
"Oh?" 'Princess' Zuikaku blinks, looking first at the unannounced teenage boy in power armor (and sporting bird WINGS coming out of the back of his armour for SOME reason) and then at the box. And found she could only look at that . . .precious cargo as they look at her. "Oh? Ooooh!"
Suffering from baby blinders, the new princess rushed over to her children . . .delighted beyond words.
"Okay, that worked it looks like?" muttered the teenager, looking at the now totally drunk on infant shipgirl/princess fussing over her newest (and youngest) fleet. "And no evil rejects from the Mysterious Stranger showing up here to ruin things? No Randal Flagg?"
"Who are you?" the Crane Princess blinks, only to jump when a scream of demonic rage interrupts and ask that very same thing! And while that that should have scared the infants into a crying/screaming mess, it didn't since SOME Random Omnipotent Being opted on shielding the little ones of this by freezing them in time for this next part.
"Moi?" the tan power armoured teen asked mocking. "I'm one of the guys who objects to your little plans on making linear time a fond memory by making the Dark Tower fall!"
Princess Zuikaku and the Crane Princess look at each other in askance, not knowing just what/who in the Hell Randal Flagg and this Dark Tower is. And what and how this could endanger linear time was also lost to them.
"All things Serve the Beam," a male voice says softly. "And the best way you would serve the Beam is with your death Flagg. But not yet..."
And between suddenly a rather loud argument in an alien language starts between the unseen voice's owner and a rather beat up Red Shirt that both Shipgirl princesses believe must be Flagg, ending with the Red Shirt screaming in rage as he slowly faded from existence to places unknown.
"Take over kid," a man shaped entity (dressed like a human male sailor from the 20th century but clearly had an eldritch aura to him) says to the tan colored power armoured teen, and then blips out of existence.
"Ah yeah right," muttered the teenager, shrinking slightly as now ALL eyes are upon him, including a twelve-foot-tall man dressed in armour with more gold than God's own Cadillac. "Of course, you'd leave that to me. Of course."
"And just who are you again besides being someone against that fugitive from Stephen King's The Stand young man?" the former International man of mystery continues, frowning slightly as he sees that perhaps a softer touch might be called for here.
"Don't worry," the Emperor says, opting on shifting into a somewhat less threatening form (his olden image as his time as James Bond as seen in Dr. No). "I will not order you to reveal the truth nor try to use my power to Take it from your mind. But as Emperor I do feel a NEED to understand what is going on here, considering that THINGS that just left clearly are more than they appear, to say the least."
Every last person (human and shipgirl) had felt it in their bones the alienness from both Flagg and the sailor looking eldritch entity who'd left moments ago and almost anything would be believable.
Almost!
John Quatermain ("maiden" name Conner) swallowed slightly and groaned softly; he had expected this but had hoped that the others of his little adventuring group would have arrived BEFORE him. Sparing him this task.
"Well, you are kinda going to have trouble believing this even with your Psyker power!" John begins, pulling off his helmet to show his face. "But since according to what I heard from my team lead explain it Warmaster Horus said that you studied up on 20th and 21rst Century sci-fi and fantasy pop culture? On the off-chance you guys meet us Champions, Mr. Bond?"
"Uh, I mean your . . .Emperorship?" Johh grimaces at how lame the last sounded.
"Mr. Bond is fine for THIS time 'John'?" the Emperor smiled slightly in humor, granting a small boon for the poor young man since he IS trying to be respectful AND informative. "And maybe you might finally explain why you Champions seemed so enamored with copying characters from those works of fiction and maybe even WHAT that power I detected so long ago from your earlier visitors to Ter. . . .Earth please? I don't have to worry about anyone being targeted for termination, right?"
He recognized John Conner from the Terminator franchise. Now finally! He could finally make allies with potential friendly aliens who would be SO very useful in fighting the forces of the Ruinous Powers! Finally!
These "shipgirls" gave off the similar aura as those "Champions" but having a larger field of potential allies to draw upon would be most fine indeed!
"Wait!" Trinitite interrupted, not liking this business with Horus being involved. "Tell me that this is Pre-Heresy Horus please?"
Putting aside who John looked like, that snot nosed punk kid who was fated to "save the humans from Skynet", she instead concentrated on the here and now!
"Pre-Heresy Horus?" mouthed softly the Emperor, looking at Trinitite both for interrupting AND for this "heresy" business. He DID not at all like the sound of it. But he felt it may have to do with this Warhammer 40k game the shipgirls had been talking about before this latest mess.
He then blinked, and looked at the still silent Star Trekkers and rejects from the Pilgrims Progress and had a sinking feeling: they may not be merely "extras" for some kind of sci-fi convention that he'd inadvertently unleashed back into the 40 millennium. His Primarchs had liked the fiction and fantasy he'd introduced to them and . . .spread it.
God help them all...this may have become even more convoluted than he'd believed in the first place. But best to stick to his decision to keep the entire lot silenced for now. Imagine trying to sort out the hundreds and hundreds of questions and shouts from everyone now! Still!
"Pre-Heresy Horus would be the best way to describe him ma'am," John answered, feeling a need to add however. "But more like a Horus who resisted falling to the Ruinous Powers and got yanked away from them killing him for resisting due to magicks . . .from some place in the multi-verse where some TV show I've never heard of called Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Was the Halloween episode where the costumes made the wearers become them become the characters they'd dressed as or something like that."
He shakes his head, not sure he'd want to watch something so . . .out there. The veiled anger Rei had towards some young witch chick made John wonder if it would have been worth watching or a total flop. Whatever. All this mystical/magical stuff was making his head spin sometimes. Nearest thing up until now had been one of the wilder AD&D games he'd done while back home after school. Now this!
"Father! You are NOT going to believe what I've been doing and met!" a powerful voice echoes throughout the area, pausing as a rather tall and somewhat beaten up male figure says, halfway sticking out of a glowing portal off in a small clearing nearby. Right next to another (!) group of people, some with winged power armour (but more akin to the type you'd find from the Sisters of Battle....ala Warhammer 40K). The others are. . . .almost as oddly out of place as the mix of Star Trek and Pilgrims (with one figure looking like the Devil himself none withstanding).
Blanching, the male figure (who some identify AS WARMASTER HORUS) ducks back into glowing portal for a few seconds and then with a smile still on his face (which he wipes immediately off after fully exiting the portal stands and glances at his Emperor (and father) and then at the rest of the area around him, lingering on the winged Sisters of Battle looking group.
"Father! I have grave news as well as some Great news but . . .," Horus (who'd power armour looks like it had been through a meat grinder), looks at the winged Sister of Battle (?) with sky blue hair--her helmet was off--in askance.
"How did you manage to get here ahead of me AND be back there?" he finally managed, gesturing where the Portal had been. "I'd thought this had been to the Palace on Terra, but not to here. Time travel?"
Rei Takahashi (nay Ayanami) sighed, nodding yes before pulling forth a set of infant girls (which seems to be something of a trend), and starts walking over to join the fun! The Emperor blinks as if slapped when his eyes fall upon the infant girls, who's infant blankets were of this long lost Primarchs from the Scattering!
"This is going to be a very confusing story I do not doubt," Trinitite mutters, sharing a look with her Princess and Georgia.
Author's Note:
Yeah, and if you have not guessed the reason why we have so many crossover elements is due to the Dark Tower (ala the Gunslinger Series by Stephen King) is a big factor. King had connections and crossover elements throughout that series with his other books. In the case of the omake (and my other stories) the crossover elements (ala "there are other worlds than these" to paraphrase from the Gunslinger series) is that very thing.
Hope it works for you.
Bloody idea would not let me go until I put pen to paper (or whatever)!
What could have been...
From out of Left Field...
Or Where a Squire is Left Holding the Bag to Explain Things Before the Rest of the Heroes Arrive
Of Course Zuikaku (or whoever the unconscious shipgirl actually was), HAS to wake up then and there and start having some kind of magical fit...
And everyone, INCLUDING the Emperor of Mankind, can only watch as they find themselves . . . frozen in place. Except for one bruised and battered Red Shirted figure in Kirk's crew who is growling in anger as he struggles to break the wooden stocks he finds himself trapped in.
"THiS iSN'T rIght!" he mutters darkly, seeing an opportunity passing by as he can but just watch from afar!
Meanwhile...
The Crane Princess pauses from her fussing over her little box of baby Wo-class Abyssal and looks up at her . . .Other.
"Phew... That's enough," she whispers, looking momentarily distressed as if at the start of an existent crisis. Only to calm as she glances at one of the babes by her as she give her a toothless grin.
"I mean... I did what I could have done...," she continues, nodding to herself as if coming to a conclusion. But frowning as she finds . . .she
cannot stop speaking those haunting words. The words she remembers haven spoken right before starting to sink below the waves for the last time. Right before realizing something had been VERY wrong but being unable to stop her death monolog. Her lying monolog! "That's right... at that day... at that sea... I did what I could have done... Eh? You, you are... me...I see... Alright!"
"I am the Crane Princess," she nods to herself, satisfied as to who she is for a few seconds only to look up in alarm as her Other's "fit" becomes more alarmingly "pronounced" for lack of better words.
"W-who am I then if I am over there?" Zuikaku whispers alarmed, slowly sitting up and staring into the middle distance and seeing nothing. "If . . . i-if the Crane Princess is me, does that make me not Zuikaku all along? Does that mean that I am Zuikaku and she is Zuikaku? We're both Zuikaku? Both the Crane Princess? That makes no sense! I am over here and she was over there? Does that mean that she was actually Defending mankind as the I was actually trying to kill every last human being?
"No . . .that makes no sense. That is NOT who I am but . . . Who am I then? I am? I a-am. I am!!"
The Crane Princess' rigging (the toothy creature that was part mechanical shark and part landing strip) rears up and stands before Zuikaku and the Crane Princes with her infants, protecting them.
Paying no mind, poor Zuikaku has a look of exhalation comes to her face as she stands suddenly, her rigging (having already manifested earlier) begins to flicker in and out of existence wildly. Then her "landing deck" part of her rigging suddenly drops off to the side, forgotten as she suddenly morphs into somebody else!
"I'm Zuihou," the shipgirl chirps brightly. "I'm a light carrier, but with proper experience, I'll be able to show you that I perform as well as an aircraft carrier."
She then flickers back into Zuikaku and the majority (but not ALL) of her rigging back to "normal." looking put out massively as she shakes her head in confusion.
"No, no I am not Zuihou!" she mutters to herself.
"But . . .you are Zuikaku!" the Crane Princess protests, looking concerned for her confused . . .Other's distress. She would go over to hug the Other, but finds her way blocked by not only her fussing box of infant Wo-classes, but her sharky landing deck (who fears for her mistress' safety).
Meanwhile, Zuikaku's dropped landing deck has . . .morphed slightly into something a bit . . .toothier. That is unnoticed by the two shipgirls however.
"No I'm not!!" the shipgirl in distress protests loudly, looking back at the Princess. "I am? I am? I am!"
"Hmpf, it seems that I've kept you waiting ...," a well-tanned and busty Japanese Battleship says proudly as she looks over at the Crane Princess. "Second of the Yamato -class battleships, Musashi, has arrived!"
The battleship shipgirl then morphs back into Zuikaku, who staggers about for a few seconds before looking at the Crane Princess again, alarmed.
"What was that?!" the poor aircraft carrier blinks. "I thought that I was . . .Musashi? But? I am NOT her! But . . .I am actually Zuikaku?"
A hopeful look passes over her face, only to fall and disappear into her head shaking in denial, rejecting such a notion! Anything else that the Crane Princess would have said on the matter is interrupted by Zuikaku's discarded rigging as it starts . . .growling at the Crane Princess. Both aircraft carrier shipgirls look over in askance as they witness Zuikaku's discarded landing deck has now sprouted both TEETH and . . .Musashi's powerful battleship guns! Looking like a more colorful version of the Crane Princess' sharky landing deck!
And of course, that change seems to jump then to Zuikaku herself in the span of a mere handful of seconds. First change Zuikaku finds her dark green hair turning plain black and then starts to braid itself again and again into twin tails, mimicking the wild hairstyle of the Crane Princess. Second change which sweeps through Zuikaku is the short red skirt that she'd been sporting changes into the red shorts that Zuihou had been sporting. Then almost instantly after that, the red and white hachimaki that the other aircraft carrier shipgirl had worn as a headband now adorns Zuikaku as a belt (worn like how the Crane Princess wears it).
Yeah, Zuikaku (or whoever this actually is here) morphs into a more colorful version of the Crane Princess . . .including the fact Zuikaku now as busty as the Crane Princess (and Musashi).
Oh! And her now glowing PURPLE eyes! Let us not forget that! Must not forget that!!
"But-but-but!" the transformed Zuikaku protests, looking increasingly panicked and shaking her head violently in denial. She wanted to be herself, not a mere Mirror!! "But what? What?!"
"Princess Zuikaku?" a young teenage boy's voice calls out from the side, interrupting Zuikaku's slide into a mental breakdown. "I got a bunch of your misplaced kiddies here you might want to take claim of here?"
A figure in tan POWER Armor of indeterminant origin steps past the growling guardians and then steps forward with a box of oddly familiar looking Wo-class infants. Yep, a box of Wo-class aircraft carrier baby shipgirls who are identical to the Crane Princess' ones in fact.
Going past the pair of growling shark/landing deck rigging things as if they weren't even there, the young man in power armor goes. The rigging . . .things are left in Shock at being totally ignored; the twin toothy THINGS instead watch in befuddlement as the teenager stops in front of both shipgirl princesses and then gestures at the box of precious infants.
"Oh?" 'Princess' Zuikaku blinks, looking first at the unannounced teenage boy in power armor (and sporting bird WINGS coming out of the back of his armour for SOME reason) and then at the box. And found she could only look at that . . .precious cargo as they look at her. "Oh? Ooooh!"
Suffering from baby blinders, the new princess rushed over to her children . . .delighted beyond words.
"Okay, that worked it looks like?" muttered the teenager, looking at the now totally drunk on infant shipgirl/princess fussing over her newest (and youngest) fleet. "And no evil rejects from the Mysterious Stranger showing up here to ruin things? No Randal Flagg?"
"Who are you?" the Crane Princess blinks, only to jump when a scream of demonic rage interrupts and ask that very same thing! And while that that should have scared the infants into a crying/screaming mess, it didn't since SOME Random Omnipotent Being opted on shielding the little ones of this by freezing them in time for this next part.
"Moi?" the tan power armoured teen asked mocking. "I'm one of the guys who objects to your little plans on making linear time a fond memory by making the Dark Tower fall!"
Princess Zuikaku and the Crane Princess look at each other in askance, not knowing just what/who in the Hell Randal Flagg and this Dark Tower is. And what and how this could endanger linear time was also lost to them.
"All things Serve the Beam," a male voice says softly. "And the best way you would serve the Beam is with your death Flagg. But not yet..."
And between suddenly a rather loud argument in an alien language starts between the unseen voice's owner and a rather beat up Red Shirt that both Shipgirl princesses believe must be Flagg, ending with the Red Shirt screaming in rage as he slowly faded from existence to places unknown.
"Take over kid," a man shaped entity (dressed like a human male sailor from the 20th century but clearly had an eldritch aura to him) says to the tan colored power armoured teen, and then blips out of existence.
"Ah yeah right," muttered the teenager, shrinking slightly as now ALL eyes are upon him, including a twelve-foot-tall man dressed in armour with more gold than God's own Cadillac. "Of course, you'd leave that to me. Of course."
"And just who are you again besides being someone against that fugitive from Stephen King's The Stand young man?" the former International man of mystery continues, frowning slightly as he sees that perhaps a softer touch might be called for here.
"Don't worry," the Emperor says, opting on shifting into a somewhat less threatening form (his olden image as his time as James Bond as seen in Dr. No). "I will not order you to reveal the truth nor try to use my power to Take it from your mind. But as Emperor I do feel a NEED to understand what is going on here, considering that THINGS that just left clearly are more than they appear, to say the least."
Every last person (human and shipgirl) had felt it in their bones the alienness from both Flagg and the sailor looking eldritch entity who'd left moments ago and almost anything would be believable.
Almost!
John Quatermain ("maiden" name Conner) swallowed slightly and groaned softly; he had expected this but had hoped that the others of his little adventuring group would have arrived BEFORE him. Sparing him this task.
"Well, you are kinda going to have trouble believing this even with your Psyker power!" John begins, pulling off his helmet to show his face. "But since according to what I heard from my team lead explain it Warmaster Horus said that you studied up on 20th and 21rst Century sci-fi and fantasy pop culture? On the off-chance you guys meet us Champions, Mr. Bond?"
"Uh, I mean your . . .Emperorship?" Johh grimaces at how lame the last sounded.
"Mr. Bond is fine for THIS time 'John'?" the Emperor smiled slightly in humor, granting a small boon for the poor young man since he IS trying to be respectful AND informative. "And maybe you might finally explain why you Champions seemed so enamored with copying characters from those works of fiction and maybe even WHAT that power I detected so long ago from your earlier visitors to Ter. . . .Earth please? I don't have to worry about anyone being targeted for termination, right?"
He recognized John Conner from the Terminator franchise. Now finally! He could finally make allies with potential friendly aliens who would be SO very useful in fighting the forces of the Ruinous Powers! Finally!
These "shipgirls" gave off the similar aura as those "Champions" but having a larger field of potential allies to draw upon would be most fine indeed!
"Wait!" Trinitite interrupted, not liking this business with Horus being involved. "Tell me that this is Pre-Heresy Horus please?"
Putting aside who John looked like, that snot nosed punk kid who was fated to "save the humans from Skynet", she instead concentrated on the here and now!
"Pre-Heresy Horus?" mouthed softly the Emperor, looking at Trinitite both for interrupting AND for this "heresy" business. He DID not at all like the sound of it. But he felt it may have to do with this Warhammer 40k game the shipgirls had been talking about before this latest mess.
He then blinked, and looked at the still silent Star Trekkers and rejects from the Pilgrims Progress and had a sinking feeling: they may not be merely "extras" for some kind of sci-fi convention that he'd inadvertently unleashed back into the 40 millennium. His Primarchs had liked the fiction and fantasy he'd introduced to them and . . .spread it.
God help them all...this may have become even more convoluted than he'd believed in the first place. But best to stick to his decision to keep the entire lot silenced for now. Imagine trying to sort out the hundreds and hundreds of questions and shouts from everyone now! Still!
"Pre-Heresy Horus would be the best way to describe him ma'am," John answered, feeling a need to add however. "But more like a Horus who resisted falling to the Ruinous Powers and got yanked away from them killing him for resisting due to magicks . . .from some place in the multi-verse where some TV show I've never heard of called Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Was the Halloween episode where the costumes made the wearers become them become the characters they'd dressed as or something like that."
He shakes his head, not sure he'd want to watch something so . . .out there. The veiled anger Rei had towards some young witch chick made John wonder if it would have been worth watching or a total flop. Whatever. All this mystical/magical stuff was making his head spin sometimes. Nearest thing up until now had been one of the wilder AD&D games he'd done while back home after school. Now this!
"Father! You are NOT going to believe what I've been doing and met!" a powerful voice echoes throughout the area, pausing as a rather tall and somewhat beaten up male figure says, halfway sticking out of a glowing portal off in a small clearing nearby. Right next to another (!) group of people, some with winged power armour (but more akin to the type you'd find from the Sisters of Battle....ala Warhammer 40K). The others are. . . .almost as oddly out of place as the mix of Star Trek and Pilgrims (with one figure looking like the Devil himself none withstanding).
Blanching, the male figure (who some identify AS WARMASTER HORUS) ducks back into glowing portal for a few seconds and then with a smile still on his face (which he wipes immediately off after fully exiting the portal stands and glances at his Emperor (and father) and then at the rest of the area around him, lingering on the winged Sisters of Battle looking group.
"Father! I have grave news as well as some Great news but . . .," Horus (who'd power armour looks like it had been through a meat grinder), looks at the winged Sister of Battle (?) with sky blue hair--her helmet was off--in askance.
"How did you manage to get here ahead of me AND be back there?" he finally managed, gesturing where the Portal had been. "I'd thought this had been to the Palace on Terra, but not to here. Time travel?"
Rei Takahashi (nay Ayanami) sighed, nodding yes before pulling forth a set of infant girls (which seems to be something of a trend), and starts walking over to join the fun! The Emperor blinks as if slapped when his eyes fall upon the infant girls, who's infant blankets were of this long lost Primarchs from the Scattering!
"This is going to be a very confusing story I do not doubt," Trinitite mutters, sharing a look with her Princess and Georgia.
Author's Note:
Yeah, and if you have not guessed the reason why we have so many crossover elements is due to the Dark Tower (ala the Gunslinger Series by Stephen King) is a big factor. King had connections and crossover elements throughout that series with his other books. In the case of the omake (and my other stories) the crossover elements (ala "there are other worlds than these" to paraphrase from the Gunslinger series) is that very thing.
Hope it works for you.
Bloody idea would not let me go until I put pen to paper (or whatever)!No drama. No request for Pyrrhic Steel to remove it. But! Just wanting to say that this episode here? I cringe that I ever wrote it. Thanks for the few likes for those who read it though.
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Annoyed Catholic
Moody fellow
...
Whelp, I will try to explain some of it. Not all, but some of it.
Randal Flagg is the main villain from "The Stand", but also from "The Gunslinger". Basically, think of him as being the Devil in those tales and you would not be too far off. Besides being the bad guy who released the super plague in "The Stand" which wiped out most of the population in the USA as well as the Earth in that story, but he also is attempting in "The Gunslinger" series to destroy the lynchpin of reality. A ragtag group of people lead by Roland Deschain (the last gunslinger of his world) attempt to halt this since except for a few eldritch monsters from realms best not mentioned (ala Lovecraftian horrors), nobody would have a good time if it. Flagg would since he is basically a quisling.
John Quatermain's (nay Conner's) group (@ small gathering of a group called Champions for reasons to be revealed later) is another group with the same goals as the Gunslinger's group, except they hale from worlds/realities much further afield than Roland's. More diverse in skills, powers, and characters. Aka even more of a soup sandwich than the Gunslinger's group.
I think you might have already figured that, but just in case I am telling it here and now.
The Emperor, back in the 20th century of his Earth, had opted to play the role of super spy (which we folks in the audience as well as almost everyone else there--except maybe the reject Pilgrims and the Star Trek folk --know as James Bond) ran into another group of Champions from the clan of adventurers John and friends belong to here. THAT band of Champions had been led by the Doctor (the Times Lord one). That group joined with Bond in defeating the bad guy in such a way that many more people who had died in the course of of things in the Bond film survived in that world. That super space station that got shredded in the movie not only survived but got used to advance mankind's thrust into outer space much easier than the Emperor has planned on, much to his delight. Oh it took more BS being peddled than all the cattle ranches in thew American Southwest produced in a single year. But then again that was just Tuesday for the Emperor back in his James Bond days.
What did not delight the Emperor was the Doctor's group had bounced before he could approach them to get a better angle on them (and eventually recruit them to his side against the Ruinous Powers aka the Demon god of the Warp) since he had noticed how badly the local area of the Warp seemed to react to the Champions when they utilized their inmate powers.
Always on the lookout for the Pop culture living aliens that the Doctor's group belonged with, the Emperor (and eventually the children of the Emperor as well) had failed to ever come across them again. Until now.
And of course there is more going on here. Most of that is for the next omake from me.
However! As a favor I will share one dark factoid with you. Flagg had been instrumental in the forgery of the paperwork that got Georgia and her kin all the way to Mars. Had been behind the scenes of many "story world" realities to get them all here for some. . .rather dark purposes.
Now I hope to Heaven that was clear enough. But I am very tired right now so am sorry if I just fell flat on my face explaining this plot pileup. Pm me if you still have questions, okay?
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68: Negotiations and Nachos
PyrrhicSteel
Look natural.
- Location
- Idaho
"Alright!" Alex announced, his relieved announcement interrupting the despair oozing through every deck and level in Trinitite. "That's math done!"
"Oh." She replied, simultaneously glad he'd shown up and anxious that she wouldn't have any more time to develop her story further. She didn't know what kind of questions the princess would ask in the process of 'figuring things out,' but she was sure none of them would have easy answers. "That's great."
Some of that anxiety must have seeped into her features, because it was suddenly mirrored on the human's.
"Something go wrong?" As he asked, his rangefinders flicking to the miniature fleet on the table.
"Oh, no!" She denied, checking her fleet again to ensure she was right. She considered telling him about Paloma's… interrogation, but trying to pit Alex against his mother was anything but a good tactic. Besides, focusing back on her miniatures might be what she needed for the moment, considering focusing on the issue hadn't gotten her anywhere. "Er, not with these… You'll hear about it at dinner."
"Okay…" Alex's concern was directed at her, now. "Should I be worried?"
"I don't think so." Trinitite asserted, although she wasn't certain herself. Nobody seemed angry at her, but that could change at any time.
A moment passed.
"How are these going, then?" Realizing he had to change the subject, Alex leaned over her fleet. "They look pretty good!"
The abyssal found herself leaning in as well. Pride swelled in her two active boilers at the complement, but now that her rangefinders were looking at her work through the lens of her more experienced coworker, small issues became apparent. The lines between white clothing and dark metallic rigging weren't as crisp as those in the guide, she could see a couple beads glue resting around a couple joints, and one of the Wo-class's tentacles seemed to be attached at an odd angle.
"I could have done better…" she observed, her feelings somewhat mixed.
"Nonsense, you've just started!" Alex defended, and the Wo-class nodded in agreement. She knew she'd done an okay job, and she was proud of what she'd achieved, but her poor sisters deserved to look perfect and the Wos on the internet guide looked much better than hers did.
Maybe they needed the wash for them to finally look 'real,' or perhaps she was just being too critical after her defeat at Paloma's hands. Deep, she still had the followup to that to look forward to…
They didn't have enough time to mix and apply all the different-colored washes they needed, so Alex just walked her through the process, explaining the procedure that would finally finish her fleet. Despite her interest, the abyssal had trouble following along. The occasional presence of Paloma, watching from the kitchen doorway, kept her thoughts from focusing on the upcoming task, however.
The beeping of the oven drifted in from the nearby kitchen, hammering in the Wo's thoughts like a general alarm. It was time.
"Dinner's ready!"
The idea that Paloma was referring to her, instead of the nachos she'd talked about, lingered in the abyssal's mind as she mutely followed Alex in. This was her final chance to think of… something.
The first problem was that she wasn't entirely certain what to prepare for. 'Figure something out' was ominously vague. Despite the fact Paloma seemed like she wanted to help her, that would no doubt come with a price, and certainly they were going to be asking inconvenient questions. Where did she sleep? They couldn't know about her hold, so what would she say if they asked where she stored everything?
"Here you go, Sarah." Her thoughts were interrupted by Paloma, who pressed a pair of cloth pads into her hands. "Careful, it's hot."
Accepting the pads and glancing towards where Alex had carried his own plate, she followed his example and gripped her plate. The dish itself seemed much more chaotic than most meals she'd had, the abyssal easily identifying every ingredient that had gone into the pile in front of her. It seemed like a megar stockpile of triangular chips, covered in a variety of meats and vegetables, all draped in a layer of melted cheese. If she could determine the brown paste they all rested on, she could probably reverse-engineer the meal.
She eased herself into the chair in silence, watching with anxiety as Alex's Father and his Princess took their own meals and seats. The expected statement didn't come immediately, the humans instead plucking individual chips and dipping them in the paste the food rested on. Listening to the crunch of the humans eating their meal didn't do anything good for her steam pressure, so she followed suit.
The chips she'd secured from the Fred Meyers Fleet were long gone, and she didn't remember much about them beyond the fact that they were crunchy, and seemed to disappear far too quickly. The disk-shaped chip she picked was covered in several different chunks of food, their identity obscured under a thick layer of melted cheese. She attempted to scoop up some of the paste like the humans around her were, but with a crack she ended up leaving half of the chip jutting out of the dark material. Thick stuff, or perhaps she put a little too much torque into her scoop.
The two halves finally made it into her mouth, forming a sandwich with the concrete-like paste between them. The distinctive taste of the sun-colored chips seemed to mix well enough with the now-familiar tang of cheese and the earthy taste she assumed was the paste, but the abyssal didn't consider it noteworthy until her teeth sliced into some kind of fruit. She grabbed another chip, trying to identify the source of the unfamiliar flavor, but the dreaded voice of Paloma intervened.
"So, Sarah." She started, the food turning to bilge in Trinitite's mouth. "When did you first come into town?"
That… wasn't so bad.
"Just a few weeks, ma'am" She reported honestly. "A little over two before I joined Jack in the Box."
"So you've been without a home for over a month?" She asked, the softness in her voice something Trinitite still didn't understand.
"You're homeless?"
Alex's exclamation interrupted any reply, his food forgotten as he stared wide-eyed at The Wo-class.
The strength of her fleetmate's response caught Trinitite off-guard. Was being homeless that bad? Yes, every ship needed somewhere she could lay anchor, and the constant, dull pain was a reminder that Trinitite needed to find a drydock eventually, but she was surviving out there, and didn't see any reason why a human couldn't.
"Why-" He started, but his question seemed to evade him. A moment passed, before he weakly finished with an "Oh."
"Paloma and I spent some time talking about this, and we have some ideas." Alex's father spoke up, his tone decisive.
"Mary's room is open for now, but you'll have to move when she comes back for winter break." Paloma added, her voice reinforcing the other human's. "If you want more privacy, there's the old four-runner. Mitchell won't be able to work on it again until next summer anyways, and we can take out the seats in the back for a good sleeping area."
Silence settled in as Trinitite processed the offer. Maybe 'offer' wasn't the proper word, however, considering the assertiveness in her voice. She hummed noncommittally, stalling for additional time.
…
No one was eating. She had to say something, even if it wasn't an actual answer.
"Do I... need to?" she hesitated.
Whatever they had been expecting, it hadn't been that.
"What do you mean?" The princess asked.
"Well," she hesitated. She had plenty of reasons to reject the offer. Minimizing contact with humans had always been her main strategy for looking human, and practically joining a family of them was the exact opposite. She'd have to be careful to store everything she used outside her hull, which was only one of countless problems she'd have to deal with. The safest and largest one, however, eventually came into her mind.
"I don't know how to repay you for what you've done already…"
"Don't worry about that!" The interjection came from Alex's father- the abyssal had forgotten his name again already- as his stare slammed through the carrier's thin armor. "What's important is you get a roof over your head before winter sets in."
What?
"You're from a tropical island, right?" He pressed. "Got plenty of rain before?"
"Yeah?"
"And you realize how much colder the rain is here, right?"
"Yes…" She acknowledged. This was obvious, but she wasn't sure how it was relevant.
"It's going to keep getting colder, Sarah." Paloma continued, her voice grim. "It'll drop below freezing in a few months. It won't be safe to sleep outside then."
'Won't be safe?' Could cold rain, of all things, kill a human? Unless the rain was frozen and launched very quickly, she didn't know how such a thing was possible.
...except she should have, because she'd been warned about it when she first entered the Mill Creek Library! Why hadn't she realized that admitting she lived outside might make them worry for her safety? Surviving something a human shouldn't is what exposed her last time!
She sighed, the feeling she'd been outmaneuvered deepening. If she refused, she might draw suspicion by pointlessly endangering herself. If she didn't, there were plenty of other risks, but that would have to be a future problem.
"What will I owe you?"
The two exchanged a look, as if they'd been expecting her to ask as much. Trinitite briefly wondered if the power structure of the family was more complicated than Paloma simply being the princess, but then she spoke for the two of them.
"I'll take you shopping sometime. You can help pay for the food, I guess."
Trinitite may have lost, yes, but she knew better than to lock herself into an open deal like that.
"So…" she did some quick math in her head. Humans typically had three meals a day, but she'd only really have to pay for two. Jack in the box meals were roughly 12 dollars each, and a month was roughly 30 days. Add those together, and drop the price a little to ensure she had room to negotiate… "...six hundred dollars a month?"
Paloma recoiled, inhaling as if struck. Maurice's rangefinders widened, as Alex was surprised enough to finally join the negotiations.
"What?"
...shit. The abyssal had clearly miscalculated, badly. This was the exact thing she'd hoped.to avoid by turning down the offer!
"Seven hundred?" She corrected, hoping to control the damage. It would mean she wouldn't be getting the phone she wanted, and any prospect of her expanding her miniature fleet had gone overboard, but now she just needed to reverse the insult she'd unwittingly given.
"Sarah, we're not trying to extort you." Paloma stated, the expected fury completely absent. "The war's been hard on food prices, but they aren't nearly that bad. I need to take you shopping so you know how to eat on a budget. It'll be more like one hundred, maybe one-twenty a month."
One twenty? As in, just a hundred and twenty dollars? That was less than a day's pay in her old job! Did that mean they'd reacted because she'd horribly overstated her price? The math behind it was sound, unless Jack in the Box overcharged for their food. Did they really just want to help her?
"I… I can do that." She admitted.
"Great." The princess sighed, visibly relaxing. "Alex, you think you can drive Sarah out to pick up her things?"
"Sh- Sure." Alex stumbled, making to stand. Trinitite almost followed him up, her food forgotten, but Mitchell's voice interrupted her.
"Enjoy your dinner first!" He ordered, chuckling. The bespectacled human looked over to Trinitite. "Your stuff is safe, right?"
"Uh… yeah." She confirmed, settling back into her seat. Alex's mistake provided an opportunity to shift attention away from her, allowing the carrier to eat and think while the humans teased their son. This is the first time she'd considered a fleet to be acting unreasonably in her favor. Considering she was getting forced into a deal, she'd expected something much worse. Yes, there was still a lot more risk of exposure then there had been before today, but it still seemed manageable. That left one more question.
Why? No fleet could afford to be this kind to just anyone. Yes, Trinitite was technically Alex's fleetmate, but the Jack in the Box fleet could still operate without her. She'd managed to impress Alex, either at work or on those fake battlefields, but…
No, maybe that was it. Alex saw Trinitite as valuable, and wanted to keep her safe enough. Those opinions had been passed onto Paloma, either via a suggestion or some kind of manipulation, which is what led Trinitite to this position. The human in question seemed innocent, bashfully poking at his plate as he endured the ribbing, but that was now. The Aircraft Carrier knew he had an interest in tactics. Did that spread into strategy and politics?
She was oddly impressed, but that still left the question of why. Alex had to see something in Trinitite, but anything she could think of would have him fleeing her, instead of trying to help.
Her thoughts went to the training she'd received from the McCaulay fleet, and the encounter she'd had on the same site. Perhaps he wanted a trade of genetic material. Alex's tactics weren't anything like sexual harassment, however, and lumping Alex with the human she'd left in the mud seemed grossly insulting. She… just didn't know.
The abyssal would have to wait and see.
- - -
The sun set a little early in Chehalis. The valley the town sat in ran from the north to the south, with the steady, wooded ridge of Cook Hill casting a premature shadow over the valley. It hadn't done that yet, the sun gently settling onto the ridgeline, but Alex knew that he'd be driving in darkness soon. At least they'd gotten his coworker's stuff while there was still light.
His hands hung off the steering wheel, Alex's thoughts split between the road and the revelation from earlier tonight. In hindsight, it was obvious, and he'd had his suspicions, but-
After rolling to a halt at a stoplight, he glanced over to his passenger. Sarah looked back, giving him a small smile, but didn't say anything. It made him feel a little skeevy, but as he focused on her clothes, some signs started to show. It was subtle, but the wear on her sleeves from shouldering through branches was clearly there. The clothes looked new enough, which was probably why no one else had noticed, but that only made what tearing he saw more significant.
Three, maybe four weeks, in the wilderness. Sleeping under dripping trees and with the screams of mountain lions not far off, doing god knows what to keep presentable, while he'd been there to help for some time, now.
Alex never got to see where Sara slept, exactly. She'd told him to park at the side of the road up in the mountains, before disappearing behind some bushes. A few minutes later, she returned, a bundled-up coat loaded with supplies in each hand. That had been all, the sum of her worldly possessions fitting neatly into one of the seats behind him. She'd been living like this ever since he'd met her, and although he'd suspected something, Sarah had managed to keep it hidden from anyone who could help.
Except… had she known they would have helped? Sarah had been alone ever since the war, and before that Alex wasn't certain if she'd ever known someone outside her immediate family. Before dinner his friend was shifting in place, swallowing, and generally acting like she was in extreme trouble, when all Mom had wanted to do was just get her some help. This had to be more than just pride.
"Sarah…" He started, knowing he had to say something, but unsure where to go from there.
"Yeah?" She acknowledged, and Alex gulped.
"If you've got any other problems, feel free to tell me about them." The words were automatic, forming as another thought occurred to him: Sure, she probably wasn't facing any issues bigger than this, but he wasn't going to assume that. "I might not be able to help, but, you know-" He stopped, reconsidering his next words. They felt flat and overused, but he had to say something… "I can listen."
A moment passed. Then another. The radio filled the silence, the harmless FM pop song doing nothing to calm Alex's increasingly frayed nerves. Was she ignoring him? Did she really have another problem she was unwilling to talk about? Had Alex gone too far by offering? He wasn't trying to hit on her, but if it came off that way-
"Thank you, Alex." her soft voice finally interrupted his worry. "If something happens, I'll let you know."
Slowly, he released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. That was a relief, kind of. She took far too long to respond for there to be nothing, but at least she knew he was here for her. Perhaps he needed to prove he could be trusted more, or perhaps he was reading too far into things, but he'd done all he could for now. Anything from here would have to be on Sarah's initiative, for now.
"Oh." She replied, simultaneously glad he'd shown up and anxious that she wouldn't have any more time to develop her story further. She didn't know what kind of questions the princess would ask in the process of 'figuring things out,' but she was sure none of them would have easy answers. "That's great."
Some of that anxiety must have seeped into her features, because it was suddenly mirrored on the human's.
"Something go wrong?" As he asked, his rangefinders flicking to the miniature fleet on the table.
"Oh, no!" She denied, checking her fleet again to ensure she was right. She considered telling him about Paloma's… interrogation, but trying to pit Alex against his mother was anything but a good tactic. Besides, focusing back on her miniatures might be what she needed for the moment, considering focusing on the issue hadn't gotten her anywhere. "Er, not with these… You'll hear about it at dinner."
"Okay…" Alex's concern was directed at her, now. "Should I be worried?"
"I don't think so." Trinitite asserted, although she wasn't certain herself. Nobody seemed angry at her, but that could change at any time.
A moment passed.
"How are these going, then?" Realizing he had to change the subject, Alex leaned over her fleet. "They look pretty good!"
The abyssal found herself leaning in as well. Pride swelled in her two active boilers at the complement, but now that her rangefinders were looking at her work through the lens of her more experienced coworker, small issues became apparent. The lines between white clothing and dark metallic rigging weren't as crisp as those in the guide, she could see a couple beads glue resting around a couple joints, and one of the Wo-class's tentacles seemed to be attached at an odd angle.
"I could have done better…" she observed, her feelings somewhat mixed.
"Nonsense, you've just started!" Alex defended, and the Wo-class nodded in agreement. She knew she'd done an okay job, and she was proud of what she'd achieved, but her poor sisters deserved to look perfect and the Wos on the internet guide looked much better than hers did.
Maybe they needed the wash for them to finally look 'real,' or perhaps she was just being too critical after her defeat at Paloma's hands. Deep, she still had the followup to that to look forward to…
They didn't have enough time to mix and apply all the different-colored washes they needed, so Alex just walked her through the process, explaining the procedure that would finally finish her fleet. Despite her interest, the abyssal had trouble following along. The occasional presence of Paloma, watching from the kitchen doorway, kept her thoughts from focusing on the upcoming task, however.
The beeping of the oven drifted in from the nearby kitchen, hammering in the Wo's thoughts like a general alarm. It was time.
"Dinner's ready!"
The idea that Paloma was referring to her, instead of the nachos she'd talked about, lingered in the abyssal's mind as she mutely followed Alex in. This was her final chance to think of… something.
The first problem was that she wasn't entirely certain what to prepare for. 'Figure something out' was ominously vague. Despite the fact Paloma seemed like she wanted to help her, that would no doubt come with a price, and certainly they were going to be asking inconvenient questions. Where did she sleep? They couldn't know about her hold, so what would she say if they asked where she stored everything?
"Here you go, Sarah." Her thoughts were interrupted by Paloma, who pressed a pair of cloth pads into her hands. "Careful, it's hot."
Accepting the pads and glancing towards where Alex had carried his own plate, she followed his example and gripped her plate. The dish itself seemed much more chaotic than most meals she'd had, the abyssal easily identifying every ingredient that had gone into the pile in front of her. It seemed like a megar stockpile of triangular chips, covered in a variety of meats and vegetables, all draped in a layer of melted cheese. If she could determine the brown paste they all rested on, she could probably reverse-engineer the meal.
She eased herself into the chair in silence, watching with anxiety as Alex's Father and his Princess took their own meals and seats. The expected statement didn't come immediately, the humans instead plucking individual chips and dipping them in the paste the food rested on. Listening to the crunch of the humans eating their meal didn't do anything good for her steam pressure, so she followed suit.
The chips she'd secured from the Fred Meyers Fleet were long gone, and she didn't remember much about them beyond the fact that they were crunchy, and seemed to disappear far too quickly. The disk-shaped chip she picked was covered in several different chunks of food, their identity obscured under a thick layer of melted cheese. She attempted to scoop up some of the paste like the humans around her were, but with a crack she ended up leaving half of the chip jutting out of the dark material. Thick stuff, or perhaps she put a little too much torque into her scoop.
The two halves finally made it into her mouth, forming a sandwich with the concrete-like paste between them. The distinctive taste of the sun-colored chips seemed to mix well enough with the now-familiar tang of cheese and the earthy taste she assumed was the paste, but the abyssal didn't consider it noteworthy until her teeth sliced into some kind of fruit. She grabbed another chip, trying to identify the source of the unfamiliar flavor, but the dreaded voice of Paloma intervened.
"So, Sarah." She started, the food turning to bilge in Trinitite's mouth. "When did you first come into town?"
That… wasn't so bad.
"Just a few weeks, ma'am" She reported honestly. "A little over two before I joined Jack in the Box."
"So you've been without a home for over a month?" She asked, the softness in her voice something Trinitite still didn't understand.
"You're homeless?"
Alex's exclamation interrupted any reply, his food forgotten as he stared wide-eyed at The Wo-class.
The strength of her fleetmate's response caught Trinitite off-guard. Was being homeless that bad? Yes, every ship needed somewhere she could lay anchor, and the constant, dull pain was a reminder that Trinitite needed to find a drydock eventually, but she was surviving out there, and didn't see any reason why a human couldn't.
"Why-" He started, but his question seemed to evade him. A moment passed, before he weakly finished with an "Oh."
"Paloma and I spent some time talking about this, and we have some ideas." Alex's father spoke up, his tone decisive.
"Mary's room is open for now, but you'll have to move when she comes back for winter break." Paloma added, her voice reinforcing the other human's. "If you want more privacy, there's the old four-runner. Mitchell won't be able to work on it again until next summer anyways, and we can take out the seats in the back for a good sleeping area."
Silence settled in as Trinitite processed the offer. Maybe 'offer' wasn't the proper word, however, considering the assertiveness in her voice. She hummed noncommittally, stalling for additional time.
…
No one was eating. She had to say something, even if it wasn't an actual answer.
"Do I... need to?" she hesitated.
Whatever they had been expecting, it hadn't been that.
"What do you mean?" The princess asked.
"Well," she hesitated. She had plenty of reasons to reject the offer. Minimizing contact with humans had always been her main strategy for looking human, and practically joining a family of them was the exact opposite. She'd have to be careful to store everything she used outside her hull, which was only one of countless problems she'd have to deal with. The safest and largest one, however, eventually came into her mind.
"I don't know how to repay you for what you've done already…"
"Don't worry about that!" The interjection came from Alex's father- the abyssal had forgotten his name again already- as his stare slammed through the carrier's thin armor. "What's important is you get a roof over your head before winter sets in."
What?
"You're from a tropical island, right?" He pressed. "Got plenty of rain before?"
"Yeah?"
"And you realize how much colder the rain is here, right?"
"Yes…" She acknowledged. This was obvious, but she wasn't sure how it was relevant.
"It's going to keep getting colder, Sarah." Paloma continued, her voice grim. "It'll drop below freezing in a few months. It won't be safe to sleep outside then."
'Won't be safe?' Could cold rain, of all things, kill a human? Unless the rain was frozen and launched very quickly, she didn't know how such a thing was possible.
...except she should have, because she'd been warned about it when she first entered the Mill Creek Library! Why hadn't she realized that admitting she lived outside might make them worry for her safety? Surviving something a human shouldn't is what exposed her last time!
She sighed, the feeling she'd been outmaneuvered deepening. If she refused, she might draw suspicion by pointlessly endangering herself. If she didn't, there were plenty of other risks, but that would have to be a future problem.
"What will I owe you?"
The two exchanged a look, as if they'd been expecting her to ask as much. Trinitite briefly wondered if the power structure of the family was more complicated than Paloma simply being the princess, but then she spoke for the two of them.
"I'll take you shopping sometime. You can help pay for the food, I guess."
Trinitite may have lost, yes, but she knew better than to lock herself into an open deal like that.
"So…" she did some quick math in her head. Humans typically had three meals a day, but she'd only really have to pay for two. Jack in the box meals were roughly 12 dollars each, and a month was roughly 30 days. Add those together, and drop the price a little to ensure she had room to negotiate… "...six hundred dollars a month?"
Paloma recoiled, inhaling as if struck. Maurice's rangefinders widened, as Alex was surprised enough to finally join the negotiations.
"What?"
...shit. The abyssal had clearly miscalculated, badly. This was the exact thing she'd hoped.to avoid by turning down the offer!
"Seven hundred?" She corrected, hoping to control the damage. It would mean she wouldn't be getting the phone she wanted, and any prospect of her expanding her miniature fleet had gone overboard, but now she just needed to reverse the insult she'd unwittingly given.
"Sarah, we're not trying to extort you." Paloma stated, the expected fury completely absent. "The war's been hard on food prices, but they aren't nearly that bad. I need to take you shopping so you know how to eat on a budget. It'll be more like one hundred, maybe one-twenty a month."
One twenty? As in, just a hundred and twenty dollars? That was less than a day's pay in her old job! Did that mean they'd reacted because she'd horribly overstated her price? The math behind it was sound, unless Jack in the Box overcharged for their food. Did they really just want to help her?
"I… I can do that." She admitted.
"Great." The princess sighed, visibly relaxing. "Alex, you think you can drive Sarah out to pick up her things?"
"Sh- Sure." Alex stumbled, making to stand. Trinitite almost followed him up, her food forgotten, but Mitchell's voice interrupted her.
"Enjoy your dinner first!" He ordered, chuckling. The bespectacled human looked over to Trinitite. "Your stuff is safe, right?"
"Uh… yeah." She confirmed, settling back into her seat. Alex's mistake provided an opportunity to shift attention away from her, allowing the carrier to eat and think while the humans teased their son. This is the first time she'd considered a fleet to be acting unreasonably in her favor. Considering she was getting forced into a deal, she'd expected something much worse. Yes, there was still a lot more risk of exposure then there had been before today, but it still seemed manageable. That left one more question.
Why? No fleet could afford to be this kind to just anyone. Yes, Trinitite was technically Alex's fleetmate, but the Jack in the Box fleet could still operate without her. She'd managed to impress Alex, either at work or on those fake battlefields, but…
No, maybe that was it. Alex saw Trinitite as valuable, and wanted to keep her safe enough. Those opinions had been passed onto Paloma, either via a suggestion or some kind of manipulation, which is what led Trinitite to this position. The human in question seemed innocent, bashfully poking at his plate as he endured the ribbing, but that was now. The Aircraft Carrier knew he had an interest in tactics. Did that spread into strategy and politics?
She was oddly impressed, but that still left the question of why. Alex had to see something in Trinitite, but anything she could think of would have him fleeing her, instead of trying to help.
Her thoughts went to the training she'd received from the McCaulay fleet, and the encounter she'd had on the same site. Perhaps he wanted a trade of genetic material. Alex's tactics weren't anything like sexual harassment, however, and lumping Alex with the human she'd left in the mud seemed grossly insulting. She… just didn't know.
The abyssal would have to wait and see.
- - -
The sun set a little early in Chehalis. The valley the town sat in ran from the north to the south, with the steady, wooded ridge of Cook Hill casting a premature shadow over the valley. It hadn't done that yet, the sun gently settling onto the ridgeline, but Alex knew that he'd be driving in darkness soon. At least they'd gotten his coworker's stuff while there was still light.
His hands hung off the steering wheel, Alex's thoughts split between the road and the revelation from earlier tonight. In hindsight, it was obvious, and he'd had his suspicions, but-
After rolling to a halt at a stoplight, he glanced over to his passenger. Sarah looked back, giving him a small smile, but didn't say anything. It made him feel a little skeevy, but as he focused on her clothes, some signs started to show. It was subtle, but the wear on her sleeves from shouldering through branches was clearly there. The clothes looked new enough, which was probably why no one else had noticed, but that only made what tearing he saw more significant.
Three, maybe four weeks, in the wilderness. Sleeping under dripping trees and with the screams of mountain lions not far off, doing god knows what to keep presentable, while he'd been there to help for some time, now.
Alex never got to see where Sara slept, exactly. She'd told him to park at the side of the road up in the mountains, before disappearing behind some bushes. A few minutes later, she returned, a bundled-up coat loaded with supplies in each hand. That had been all, the sum of her worldly possessions fitting neatly into one of the seats behind him. She'd been living like this ever since he'd met her, and although he'd suspected something, Sarah had managed to keep it hidden from anyone who could help.
Except… had she known they would have helped? Sarah had been alone ever since the war, and before that Alex wasn't certain if she'd ever known someone outside her immediate family. Before dinner his friend was shifting in place, swallowing, and generally acting like she was in extreme trouble, when all Mom had wanted to do was just get her some help. This had to be more than just pride.
"Sarah…" He started, knowing he had to say something, but unsure where to go from there.
"Yeah?" She acknowledged, and Alex gulped.
"If you've got any other problems, feel free to tell me about them." The words were automatic, forming as another thought occurred to him: Sure, she probably wasn't facing any issues bigger than this, but he wasn't going to assume that. "I might not be able to help, but, you know-" He stopped, reconsidering his next words. They felt flat and overused, but he had to say something… "I can listen."
A moment passed. Then another. The radio filled the silence, the harmless FM pop song doing nothing to calm Alex's increasingly frayed nerves. Was she ignoring him? Did she really have another problem she was unwilling to talk about? Had Alex gone too far by offering? He wasn't trying to hit on her, but if it came off that way-
"Thank you, Alex." her soft voice finally interrupted his worry. "If something happens, I'll let you know."
Slowly, he released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. That was a relief, kind of. She took far too long to respond for there to be nothing, but at least she knew he was here for her. Perhaps he needed to prove he could be trusted more, or perhaps he was reading too far into things, but he'd done all he could for now. Anything from here would have to be on Sarah's initiative, for now.
This one fought me a good deal. There was a lot more I wanted to fit in during the dinner conversation, like some more intensive questioning of Trinitite's story, but it just... didn't fit. On top of that, I know a lot of readers didn't start this looking for a romance subplot, so while I don't plan on getting rid of it I want to make sure there's focus on other aspects of the story in the upcoming chapters. There's an interlude I have planned that might help with that, and that sidestory project may or may not be a nice distraction from slice-of-life, but it is a secondary priority so no guarantee on when it comes out.
In a bit of a hurry at the moment, so that's all for the A/N. Hope you enjoyed!
In a bit of a hurry at the moment, so that's all for the A/N. Hope you enjoyed!
- Location
- USA
I have no idea what you are talking about in regards to romance.
I fully expect Alex to be the first man on record to kiss an Abyssal.
I fully expect Alex to be the first man on record to kiss an Abyssal.
- Location
- America
I didn't start this looking for one, but by jove I sure am hoping it continues!
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I'll agree I didn't go into this expecting romance, but so far it hasn't felt intrusive? Like its just a natural part of Trin figuring out how to people around the characters she ended up with.
Hasn't really hit any soap opera drama tier vibes just people in a world that's kinda going to shit extending some kindness to a relative stranger.
Hasn't really hit any soap opera drama tier vibes just people in a world that's kinda going to shit extending some kindness to a relative stranger.
- Location
- America
But, uh, yeah.
I am a complete and total sucker for this particular setup.
Honestly I just want to see all the omakes that could crop up from this.
….also the page number is at 69. And this was in the most recent chapter:
Trin has a very dirty mind.
And on the other side of the Pacific Saratoga is wondering why she keeps getting these homicidal urges.
I am a complete and total sucker for this particular setup.
Honestly I just want to see all the omakes that could crop up from this.
….also the page number is at 69. And this was in the most recent chapter:
Lol.
Trin has a very dirty mind.
And on the other side of the Pacific Saratoga is wondering why she keeps getting these homicidal urges.
Sidestory: Highway H2
PyrrhicSteel
Look natural.
- Location
- Idaho
So... I feet like I should explain myself before you guys read this, just to manage expectations a little bit. Sidestories are a little thing I've been tinkering on in bits and pieces between chapters, since my muse was demanding I write combat and Trinitite's nowhere near that. So, between chapters, while I was still in the storyboarding/planning stage for the mainline chapters, I figured flushing out the universe Trinitite was in wouldn't be a terrible idea. Hopefully it acts as a good way to explain the mechanics in the setting that aren't all that relevant to Trinitite, without shoving it into the fic where it doesn't belong or asking for people to dig into the thread to find WoG posts.
This has been ready for a week or two, and I was going to delay it until the next chapter was almost ready, but I'm making good progress on it and figured I could drop it without people complaining I was taking too much time away from the main fic. Hope you enjoyed it! If you don't, I can't put a firm date on the release of the next chapter but rest assured there's a good amount of progress on that front.
This has been ready for a week or two, and I was going to delay it until the next chapter was almost ready, but I'm making good progress on it and figured I could drop it without people complaining I was taking too much time away from the main fic. Hope you enjoyed it! If you don't, I can't put a firm date on the release of the next chapter but rest assured there's a good amount of progress on that front.
Highway H2
Outside Waipio, HI, 16 Oct 2022
In better times, she was told, the Memorial Freeway had been an artery of activity, connecting the sleeping Henderson Airfield and the now-dead city of Honolulu. Now, the LST Reclaimer had trouble imagining it as anything but the crumbling, cratered, and exposed funnel it now was. Even surrounded by her skittering contingent of twelve M4's and six half tracks, she felt incredibly vulnerable. The enemy, the vile invaders who'd destroyed the peace of this island, could be anywhere.
To starboard, dense foliage crowded the freeway, coating the gentle slope that descended away from the highway. On the other side, lines of ruined buildings shielded any observer from view, a field of ruins whose original purpose the Wa-class could only speculate on.
How many of the enemy were hiding there, their rangefinders boring in on the fleet and quietly passing the information onto the forces at the occupied airfield? How much firepower was hidden in that town, ready to spring on the strike force at the worst possible time? The last attempt to bring back Wheeler, several months before she'd first come into her princess's service, had fallen apart when the fleet had rushed into a trap the enemy had set for them. She could only hope they had enough steel this time to push through it.
When they'd first "set sail," she'd been a lot more confident. The majority of the Ru-class battleships of the Central Fleet remained at anchor in the harbor, their massive guns trained to rain death upon any of the accursed invaders with a simple radio call, but Guardian was living up to her name, walking just ahead of Reclaimer's leading Sherman. Her guns, unusable on land, would be missed in the upcoming battle, but if the monster showed up they would need her horsepower. Additionally, out of anyone in the fleet, she was the most likely to survive whatever surprise the invaders had in store for them. On top of that, the rumble of engines behind and above her were a reminder that she wasn't alone. Reclaimer would bear the brunt of the enemy's resistance, but the tanks of her fleetmates behind her and her princess's aircraft above her, she should have plenty of support.
Hopefully. Now that she knew just how many hiding places an invader could be lurking, she didn't feel so safe.
Her force was split into two columns, filling the road to ensure the maximum amount of firepower could be brought to bear. Her ship senses screamed that her vehicles were too close together, only a few yards apart, but it wasn't like the enemy could launch torpedoes here so she ignored her concerns. This way the troops in her half tracks could better spot threats to her tanks. If she could dismount them to form a kind of walking screen, perhaps she wouldn't feel so lonely, but unlike Central's guards her marines (and their guns) shrunk to a useless size outside of their vehicle.
The two seperate roads that made up H2 converged, dulling Wa-class's fears as the second half of the strike force came into view. Another Ru, backed by armor from her sister ship Liberator. They'd have to bring quite a lot of firepower to bear, firepower that had hopefully been attritted away by now, if they wanted to threaten them.
Her gaze flicked up the road, and the Wa-class suppressed a shudder. On the far side of highway H2, its sand-colored form separating it from the structures behind it, was one of the enemy's tanks.
The… thing had been knocked out, of course. The blackened, twisted metal at its aft was proof enough of that, but even in death it intimidated the Wa-class. It was clearly a heavy tank, unnaturally angular and with a cannon three times the size of the 75s on Reclaimer's M4's. They had plenty of firepower, clearly, and would stop at nothing until her entire fleet joined the wreckage already at the bottom of the harbor. All the Central fleet could do was push until, hopefully, the invader had been pushed off of the island, instead of them.
They were passing the tank now, the Wa-class dragging her attention away from the malevolent corpse to search for real threats. The bushes on her side of the road were starting to clear, which would have relieved her if they hadn't revealed another hillside similarly obscured by vegetation. This time, they were separated by a choked, muddy river, complicating any prospect of dashing towards the source of fire and using one's strength to-
She felt, more than heard, the explosion. The shockwave scooped the Wa-class from the deck, reverberating in her keel as she was dashed against the chitin of her closest sherman. Her vision dimmed as her crew were thrown about their stations, but her bulkheads held. It took the transport a few precious seconds for her thoughts to clear and her bridge crew to reassert control. Eventually, she was able to sit up, adjusting her headgear to survey the source of the blast.
Initially, she'd suspected the tank had been transformed into a bomb, but as the smoke began to clear, her theory was disproven. The betrayed machine sat among the toppled husks of Liberator's armor, lining the edge of the fresh crater that now ate into the road. The enemy had figured the tank a too obvious spot for their bomb, and had hid it elsewhere. Liberator was nowhere to be seen, as was the Ru-class who'd been guarding her. The bomb had launched them away from the battlefield to… somewhere.
The question of if they'd survived their flight was quickly forgotten as a jolt of pain refocused Reclaimer's senses. Something had just struck one of her half-tracks, effortlessly tearing through its thin armor and shredding its crew.
The invaders were attacking. Obviously. Reclaimer cursed herself for only now just realizing they would follow up on the explosion. She scrambled to her feet, hissing as her lead vehicle took a hit in the starboard drive wheel, blowing its track apart and leaving its thin side armor exposed.
...Starboard. The enemy was to starboard! Her armor had come to a shocked stop when the bomb had rattled them, but with the realization the Wa-class directed them to start turning. She needed to face their thickest armor towards the enemy while the Ru-class or herself found a target for the ships back in the bay. Attacks were coming much faster, now. She could feel one of her tanks die, followed by a small cannon punching through the engine of an awkwardly shifting half track. Where were they coming from?
Through the eyes of the lead tank's commander, she saw something fly out of the bushes on the other side of the river, exploding at Guardian's feet and stumbling her.
That might have been their first mistake, and Reclaimer was determined to capitalize on it. A bit of dark satisfaction crept into the Wa as dozens of lines of tracers suddenly lanced into the far bank of the river. A moment or two later, explosions sprouted near the source of the attack as Reclaimer's Shermans joined in with their 75's.
As impressive as it looked, it wasn't enough. Another round petulantly flew from the woods, its shaped charge unnaturally burrowing through her rear tank's frontal armor and killing the crew inside. She couldn't deal with this… this infestation alone!
Digging into her hold, the Wa-class produced a chart central had given her. It trembled in her hands as she struggled to unfold it, trying her best not to tear the fragile thing apart. There had to be some kind of label for where the enemy was, right?
"Central, Reclaimer." She stated, fighting to remember the radio protocol she'd been taught and keep her voice even. There was no response.
"Central, Re-" The tank she was hiding behind suddenly exploded, buffeting the transport with shrapnel. "Anyone! We need help!"
…
Still nothing. Frustrated, she tapped her bridge, only to realize that the blast that had initiated the battle had damaged her only way to get help.
The buzzing of an engine overhead lent her some hope. Surely Central had noticed the explosion, and was sending aircraft to help. The dive bomber above her angled in the direction of her tracers, falling into a shallow dive. The abyssal never realized how beautiful the smooth, symmetrical napalm canisters slung under its wings looked until now. The bomber's dive steepened, airbreaks extending along it's wings as it fell, but a line of tracers lanced out at the bomber at the last moment. The attack went wide, the bomber twisting away from the line of crimson spears lancing up at it, but the bombs that tumbled from its wings were clearly going to miss the enemy. The plumes of fire sprouted from ground well behind the line of trees enemy fire was coming from, and the rockets another airplane sent after the unseen AA gun felt painfully late. More aircraft would come, but Reclaimer wasn't sure she had that much time.
Shells tore through the air as they descended, but the Wa-class could already tell they were too small to be coming from her fleet. The enemy artillery, a force that had earned a special amount of animosity from her princess, had appeared. Should she move? Advancing further, alone, would guarantee destruction, while Central would not accept an unjustified retreat. The situation was untenable now, but eventually the tanks of her comrades behind her would arrive, and…
Explosions echoed from behind her as the artillery started to land. Besides Guardian, the Ru-class, she was alone. Her company of armor was dwindling, and Guardian's firepower was almost useless without the space to fit her hull form. She turned around, looking towards Liberator's surviving vehicles. They were idling in place, their turrets rotating unsteadily as they waited for orders that would probably never come. She wanted to shout at them, to take command and direct them towards the threat on the other side of the river, but would they listen? They weren't her vehicles, after all, but-
Something shifted in the ruins beyond the unresponsive vehicles, and the Wa-class suddenly realized a deadly error. Of course they would be in the ruins! With a panicked thought, she directed the infantry firing out of the last remaining half track and the tanks immediately around her towards the movement, but it was far too late. A trio of silhouettes appeared on the roof of a building, unleashing a volley of shells from their recoilless rifles towards the convoy. Another one of the enemy appeared from the far side of the crater, joining in the fire as Reclaimer's last M3 and Liberator's uncoordinated tanks were consumed by flames.
Perhaps she was not doomed. Guardian, at least, could fight back by herself. The Ru-class was using half of her massive rigging to anchor herself to a destroyed tank, the mass of the armored vehicle allowing her to collapse an enemy-filled building with AA fire. It wasn't much compared to what she could use on the water, but it might be enough to keep the enemy from getting too close. Besides, nothing yet had really hurt them, and the river wasn't too far away if the humans resorted to incendiary weapons. If she stuck close to the battleship, there was a chance that the pair could survive until help arrived.
That chance evaporated, however, when an object sailed over the tank Guardian had anchored herself to, landing with a thunk between the two abyssals. She only had a moment to realize the bag had been thrown from the bushes on her side of the river before it detonated, the LST's world filling with smoke and pain. With a curse, she managed to regain her footing, but when the smoke started to clear she realized that feigning death might have been a better option.
There were three warships on the road, now. While she'd been distracted, this newcomer had appeared in the center of the formation, pinning Guardian to the ground. Even compared to the Ru-class she was massive, her sharp bow and massive triple turrets dwarfing anything in the Central fleet. She was clad in white, but the sand-colored hair that obscured her features was a clear sign that the battleship wasn't with the any abyssal fleet.
The Monster was right in front of her!
The Wa-Class suddenly realized that her twin shafts were frozen. Even bent over, The Thing's hands wrapping around Guardian's port arm and the cord that ran alongside it, her sheer mass and sleek lines told Reclaimer that she had no chance in either running or fighting. The Wa-class could do nothing but watch as Guardian fought The Monster's grip, her heels failing to find purchase as they tore up the road beneath her. The monster straightened, roughly dragging her ally up and swinging her into the air. The Ru-class was swiftly flung over The Monster's head, slamming her into the side of one of the destroyed tanks with a reverberating clang.
The battleship could clearly take the hit. The ground under The Monster's feet hadn't even been damaged in the swing, but her crew was clearly shaken. Her fleetmate was too stunned to react when, retaining her grip on the Ru-class's arm and rigging, the titan planted a heel below her shoulder and pulled. A desperate scream emerged from the Ru-class as she jerked, her other arm swinging her rigging to strike the monster, but the thing tearing her apart seemed unfazed by the strike. Guardian's screams increased in intensity, but were suddenly drowned out by the rending screech of overstressed and tearing metal.
Reclaimer didn't stay to watch the rest of the carnage. Strength suddenly returned to her as she started to run, determined to avoid the same fate that was unfolding aft of her. The unbearable tearing continued, the Wa-class noticing that Guardian's screaming had stopped despite the LST's blinding terror. She couldn't fight a battleship, and she couldn't outrun this one, but hopefully Guardian's sacrifice could buy her the time she needed to brave the enemy's artillery and-
The rest of the enemy's forces were still there, giving the Wa-class a painful reminder as a recoilless rifle round impacted just ahead of her. The slap of the shockwave was enough for the abyssal to lose her balance, the rough asphalt suddenly falling up to meet her. She scrambled back to her feet, terror putting far too much power into her legs and tearing the road underneath her. With her feet flying out from under her, she stumbled again, catching herself and scrambling away from the battleship.
She wasn't fast enough. Reclaimer didn't know when The Monster had… finished with Guardian, or if she'd abandoned the crippled battleship once she sensed that prey was getting away from her, but the panicked Wa-class was suddenly aware that it was behind her! Far too soon an ironclad grip settled around one of Reclaimer's shafts, bringing her retreat to a sudden stop.
It was over. Guardian was dead, all of her armor had been killed, her radio was gone, and her fleetmates were still so far away…
She could feel her rudder snap, drive shaft shattering as the massive battleship's grip casually tightened. Energy seemed to drain away as she gasped, the pain becoming oddly dull as she continued to look ahead. Gigantic arms wrapped around the Abyssal, roughly pulling her upright and giving her a clearer view of the path back to her fleet. With an odd clarity, she realized that in turning to meet the ambush from the river, her tanks had blocked the road where they'd die. They'd be gone, rotting away in a few weeks, but until then she'd blocked the route to Wheeler better than the humans could have.
The Monster's arms closed around the LST, engulfing her in an oddly soft embrace. Before The Monster finally squeezed, snapping her ribs and keel, Reclaimer wondered if she'd be resummoned in time to join the next failed assault.
There was a moment of indescribable pain…
…and then nothing.
We Just Write
Blatantly Plural
- Location
- New England
- Pronouns
- Plural
R: sigh. War may occasionally be necessary, but that doesn't mean it's glorious.
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Almost feeling bad for the genocidal murder-botes. What a horrifying way to go, literally ripped limb from limb.
- Location
- Tooele, Utah. USA
So that's what it's like to be on the opposite side of New Jerseys crew.