Omake: Turkey Hunt
Nemo considered the conversation that she'd had with her fellow subs - most of them that were in the pen were already asleep after the night's discussion. It started with why Nashville was hanging around on base with that spook Lieutenant for the past few months, then ranged to why Shangri La was involved. Someone had commented that word had gone out among the more reliable shipgirls that they were to be on the look out for an unknown carrier. Then another voice had piped up about how a shipgirl had, for some reason, raided the Shelton Walmart and they'd all been told to be on their best behavior.
Nemo remembered that one - their CO had pulled in all of the subs when she had heard the incident and demanded to know who it was. Their reply hadn't mollified her at all - if it'd been a subgirl then they wouldn't have been caught. They, at least, were all proficient at Advanced Acquisitions.
Maybe that carrier was a Jap that had somehow been summoned on US soil and was now hiding amongst the population. Or possibly an Abyssal had actually made landfall and for some reason was hiding out rather than going on a rampage.
All Nemo knew is that it was two weeks until Thanksgiving and in the finest US tradition, both as a sub and as an American, she was going on a Turkey hunt.
*
The discussion resumed the next day as to just how serious this was. Obviously Something (TM) was up and that the brass weren't discussing it, so it was up to them. The methods that were usually used in a carrier hunt were out - the unknown ship seemed to be operating under radio silence, with no coded signals potentially indicating where she might be. They'd have to divide up the nearby towns and hope for a sighting the old fashioned way.
Queenfish and Archerfish both had carrier kills back from when they were steel hulls so offered to volunteer for local patrols to keep their CO happy, while the rest would spread out and search any town within a 100 mile radius of Puget Sound.
Nemo offered to go south - not knowing why. It just felt lucky to her.
*
As she slumped more into the seat, Nemo considered her lack of success in finding the supposed carrier - maybe she hadn't existed to begin with. Still, at least she'd gotten out of base and explored a bit which had to count for something.
Though, she might have to see if there any Jack in the Box franchises near the naval yards. Then she heard the door open and some sixth sense made her do her best to disappear in the seat as she watched an Essex class - an Essex Class in a Jack in the Box uniform - make her way behind the counter and then pause.
Then one of the other workers spoke up, "Hey Sarah. You alright, you look you've seen a ghost?"
"Ahh ... who is that girl in the corner?"
"Oh, her? Likely some delinquent. Still, its not our responsibility unless Shannon says it is."
Then there was the sound of more movement and by the time Sarah returned to the front counter Nemo had disappeared.
*
When she left the counter that night Trinitite was even more careful than usual - she was reminded even more strongly than usual that she no longer had escorts, no destroyers to protect her from the human subs that prowled beneath the waters. No extra eyes to watch out for the sight of periscopes - and no ability to launch torpedo bombers if it was sighted. She wasn't sure that the girl who'd been earlier was a sub, but there was something about the short girl that screamed at her instincts as a Wo.
The fact that it was dusk didn't help - Alex would normally give her a lift home around this time but he was busy. So it was with a bit of trepeditation that she set sail towards the Martin-Campos home, only for Nemo to drop off the roof of a building as she was passing by it. She opened her mouth to call out, only for a hand to place itself over her mouth, "Now now, be quiet. My forward tubes are loaded with Mark 14s. Maybe the magnetic trigger fails, maybe it works. So ... do you feel lucky?"
*
This time, Nemo just grinned as her CO yelled at her. This time she was sitting on top of a trussed up Wo that was on her CO's desk. Her Turkey Hunt had been successful - and in time for Thanksgiving.
This was posted over on SpaceBattles after somone made the comment of a sub finding and then glomping onto our poor Wo ...
1 - for some reason I remembered Sarah getting a bike, despite the increased cost but couldn't find any recent chapters in which it was mentioned.
2 - Trinitite actually raided the Fred Meyers, as noted in 'Interlude: Emergency' (Back around Chapter 13 or so).
The old couch's well-worn cushions were intimately familiar to Alex, having sat on them perhaps thousands of times before. He'd done so for any number of occasions, which was why the fact they felt so different now was so jarring.
His body rejected the cushion below him, adrenaline forcing Alex to continuously adjust his position as he tried to wait. He attempted to distract himself with his phone, but his thoughts refused to remain focused on the screen in front of him. Given the situation, how could they?
This was an opportunity he'd dreamed about, but only in short, unregulated flights of fancy. It was never something he'd dared to expect, so to keep his hopes reasonable he'd cracked down on those fantasies hard and fast.
Yet still, here he was, waiting as Sarah got ready for their date!
Tonight had been planned about as meticulously as Alex could, but even now his mind continued to pick at it, playing out disaster after disaster in his head. The sound of warm air filtering in through the vents, normally relaxing white noise, seemed to carry concern after worry into his anxious mind. Should he have ordered tickets yesterday? Before covid and then the war, absolutely, but what about now, where the days of packed theaters felt like ancient history? He wanted to buy them at the dinner, to help drive the conversation, but was that too late? What if she didn't like the movie they picked out together? What if everything was booked, and they had to wait an hour or two for a movie to open? What if Sarah didn't like the food they got?
Alex jumped as the door to the bathroom opened, almost dropping his phone as he looked up.
The device then tumbled from his hand, forgotten, as Sarah stepped into the living room.
All the time he'd known Sarah, his friend had worn roughly the same garments: A long sleeve shirt, normally wrapped in a jacket of some kind, covering a set of long pants- jeans, mostly- and boots, as well as a baggy hat. She always wore it well, but Alex would never call it stylish or fashionable. That was fine by him, Alexnever cared for fashion either, but clearly Mom had harbored different ideas. The two women had snuck out multiple nights while he was doing homework, leaving him speculating as they stubbornly refused to divulge the fruits of their little escapades.
Until now, he guessed.
Her midnight-black hair was uncovered, glint dancing across wild ruffles with every step as she approached. A silver hair clip attempted to bring some order to the wild curls that framed her face, pinning most of her bangs to the rest of her hair, but a few rebellious curls still tumbled down her right cheek. They came to a rest among roses stitched into the loose, silky black scarf draped over her shoulders.
Alex knew that, due to her pale skin, Sarah always kept her face obscured in a thick mask of makeup. It was deeply tragic that she was so afraid of being associated with her family's murderers, but the skill she had developed in hiding her face was on clear display now. Alex didn't know if his friend was using a different foundation or just less of it, but her skin was noticeably pailer, drawing even more attention to the subtle eyeliner and blush she'd artfully applied. She'd switched lipstick as well, the women's nervous lips coated in a deep, rose red.
The color was matched by her burgundy sweater, a garment that was clearly a size or two smaller than it should have been. It clung to Sarah's form, the sweater's vertical pleating drawing Alex's eyes over every curve. The ridges in the fabric were wide where her skirt clung to her hips, thinning as they wrapped around her tight waist, only to swell again as they stretched over her prominent-
Alex forcefully blinked, forcing his head clear as he battled his hormones back under control. Jesus, this was like the time he'd first met her, all over again! Yes, this was a date, and thus the ogling was probably… less terrible, but dates weren't only about that kind of thing!
On most women, the black skirt Sarah was sporting would be incredibly modest, but on her amazonian frame her leggings-encased knees were visible. Below that…was she wearing heels? Sarah was tall enough already, wasn't she?
"Sorry this took so long." She apologized, towering over Alex as she fidgeted with the hem of her dress. "I had to redo the makeup a few times."
Alex tried to reassure her, but there must have been a short somewhere because when he opened his mouth, completely different words tumbled out.
"You look amazing…"
Sarah paused, mouth opening slightly as her eyes met his. Her lips closed, then opened again, but a reply failed to materialize. Had he said something wrong, or…
"He's right!" The voice of his mother ended the silence, Paloma clapping as she stood. She'd been sitting for just as long as Alex had, but in his nervousness he'd completely forgotten she was there. "Just one thing though…"
Even standing on her tiptoes, Ploma needed Sarah to crouch slightly so she could ruffle her scarf, shifting it so it lay slightly more evenly on her shoulders.
"Alright!" She proclaimed. "You two have a wonderful dinner!"
"We will, Mom." Alex hoped, pocketing his phone and retrieving his keys. "You ready, Sarah?"
"Of course.' She smiled.
- - -
The buzz of the television filtered throughout the hotel room, the low volume providing white noise and lending the ascetic furnishing some personality as Katie researched. She'd seen this episode before, but while she casually enjoyed Murder, She Wrote, it wasn't a favorite of hers. That was better, in some ways, considering it allowed her to focus on her research.
The tracker had given her an immensely productive lead: the address of the home of the Martin-Campos family. At first glance, they seemed like an idyllic American family: Paloma Campos, a second generation immigrant, married a promising software engineer by the name of Mitchel Martin. The couple then purchased a house in Small Town, USA to raise their son and daughter, where one had left for WSU and the other remained to study at a local community College. She'd have to do some more investigation, to see if Trinitite was merely using them as a taxi or if they were harboring her, but if they were, Katie was dying to know why.
Technically, that question was one for analysts, or something that could be pulled from them in interrogation after she brought the feds in. Even with Katie giving Uncle Sam her premium service, she wasn't going to be doing more than developing an exhaustive list of contacts and observable facts. Still, the mystery was intriguing. Were they victims themselves, or collaborators?
As the detective pondered the issue, she idly checked her phone, and her thoughts abruptly shifted.
The tracker was moving. Her laptop closed with a thunk as she stood, hurriedly slipping back into her shoes. The movement could be something as harmless as a shopping trip, but even if it was, she could learn something from it. The abyssal was damaged, right? If they were buying a bunch of timber and steel, then Kaite would have a pretty obvious clue on their relationship with the monster. Mostly, if the abyssal was riding here as well, then the likelihood of Trinitite living with the family, rather than simply being acquainted with them, rose.
Katie Harmon grabbed her notepad and keys from her bed stand, then slipped out, the tv filling the now-empty room with Angela Lansbury's voice.
- - -
When they'd entered the restaurant, Trinitite had expected something like she was used to at Jack in the Box: A counter, where visiting customers would visit to take their orders, then leave with whatever they had requested. Instead, as they entered, they were met with a single woman at a desk, with the kitchen unseen and menu screens she'd been expecting completely absent.
"Welcome," she gave the familiar greeting, but changed it up by adding "table for two?"
"I've got a reservation." Alex supplied. "The name is 'Alex.'"
"...Yup, I've got you here." Reading into what the abyssal had assumed was a register, the human abruptly turned away from the screen, scooping up some sheets of paper as she walked away. "This way, please."
Alex followed her, the Wo-class wordlessly trailing her friend. She wasn't going to ask them what they wanted? Where would they pay? Alex seemed to know what was going on, so she didn't voice her questions, but her confusion didn't fade as they were directed to sit at a small table nestled into a corner of the building.
"Someone will be here to serve you shortly." The employee reported, leaving with an "Enjoy…" as she returned to her post.
And with that, the two were alone. Trinitite took the moment of silence to observe the restaurant around her, quietly shifting as she scanned her surroundings.
The building itself was much larger, with the tables- heavy, finely-crafted creations that more resembled the table in Alex's kitchen then Jack in the Box's plywood offerings- giving slightly more space between each other. Perhaps it was this, the soft, soothing music that replaced the pop radio that her fleet used, or the kitchen's noises being this hidden behind a bulkhead… somewhere, that made the restaurant feel so much quieter. More peaceful.
"It's pretty different from Jack in the Box, huh?"
"...Yeah." Trinitite agreed, looking down at the paper Alex pushed towards her. From the lists of foods and their prices, it was easy to tell that this was the menu, but what those foods were was beyond her. What was the difference between a new york strip and a ribeye steak? How did prime rib differ from ribs? Salmon was listed three different times, each described completely differently, listed with ingredients Trinitite recognized, but couldn't imagine together.
For a few minutes, the abyssal studied in silence, uncertainty seizing her hull as her rangefinders flicked from item to item. It wasn't that nothing on the menu caught her interest. If that were the case, she could make a random decision, and either be pleasantly surprised or disappointed when the food arrived. Here, though, every description she did understand seemed good, but the prices were so high… she'd probably only get to eat here once. She had to pick carefully, but she didn't have nearly enough information!
"Welp," Alex interrupted her dilemma, allowing his menu to drop to the table. "I know what I want. How about you?"
Trinitite stared back at him, stunned. He'd known what he wanted already? Had he been here before?
She resisted the urge to cover her face as the obvious dawned on her. Of course he had! He'd lived here for… how many years? No doubt he knew this town better than almost anything Trinitite did. The carrier had been struggling for minutes with insufficient information, when she'd had an expert on the restaurant's offerings right in front of her!
Stupid Wo! Why hadn't she asked for help yet!
"Uh… what would you recommend?"
Giving Trinitite a confident smile, Alex opened his mouth to reply, when he suddenly froze.
"...I don't know." His hand adjusted the menu he'd placed on the table, the human's brow furrowing as he leaned towards the paper. "I always get one of their pastas, but you want seafood, right? The shrimp scampi's nice…"
It seemed like she'd overestimated his abilities. It was worth a try, though. She'd go for that shrimp scampi if nothing else appeared to her, even though shrimp wasn't something the old fleet's submarines bothered much with.
"Good evening!" Perhaps it was because she was distracted, or because the human had been flitting throughout the restaurant while they had been considering their orders, but when the employee spoke up, it was almost as if he had surfaced from beneath the hardwood deck. "My name is Thomas, I'll be your waiter for tonight. Can I get you anything to drink?"
"Just water." Alex smiled, before leveling an expectant look at Trinitite.
In a fit of panic, the abyssal's rangefinders tore across the menu. There were drinks on here? She had to flip the paper over before finding a smaller list near the bottom, but even this was far too extensive. Not wanting to waste the employee and Alex's time trying to come to a decision, Trinitite hastily stuttered a lazy reply.
"Er- water as well, please."
"Two waters, then…" He commented, producing a pocket-sized logbook and making a note in it. "Can I get you anything else?"
Alex looked to the Wo-class for a half a moment, before addressing the employee.
"Uh, what would you recommend for somebody who wants seafood?"
"Hmm…" he wondered, brow furrowing. "...that's not our specialty, but tonight's cook does a really good job with the garlic lemon mahi mahi."
"Oh." Trinitite's rangefinders settled on the menu item, noting the massive twenty-seven dollar price tag. "I'll… consider it."
"Alright, I'll be right back with your drinks, then." The human turned, "Enjoy your night!"
"Oh!" Alex interrupted, freezing the leaving employee. "Could we also get the Ahi Tuna appetizer?"
"Of course." The human made another note in his little book, turning to smile before leaving again. "I'll be out with that shortly!"
Trinitite watched him leave, her eyes turning towards other employees in dark uniforms as they flitted between the tables scattered across the restaurant. A woman, arms overloaded with half-a-dozen plates, carefully balancing the load of food as she transported it to a small fleet of waiting customers. Another was carrying cleaning supplies, hurriedly wiping down another table for more customers. Many seemed to be just talking with customers, following what appeared like predetermined patrol paths through the restaurant with an almost-convincing air of casualness.
"That job looks pretty scary." She noted. How many times did one have to interact with a potentially hostile customer? Four? Five? A waiter certainly had to handle more people at the same time than she did. "Sitting at a single post and having customers come up to you is bad enough, but…"
"This is more exciting," her friend objected, "but yeah, I've heard all kinds of horror stories about being a waiter."
The employee- waiter, she guessed, returned, the ice clicking against glass as he served each of them a water. Trinitite took a sip, enjoying the feeling of her hull chilling to match the icewater's temperature.
- - -
"Hmm, you know anything about superheroes?"
"Superheroes?" Trinitite echoed, before shaking her head. "Not really, no."
"I figured." Alex nodded, eyes still focused on his phone. With a glance up, he noticed the Wo-class's questioning gaze, and started to elaborate."The new Black Panther's finally out. After the war started and their main actor died, I thought it would take a lot longer, but I guess they pulled through."
Wait, the main actor had died?
"While they were filming it?"
The initial plan had been seeing the movie first, then dinner, but after the two had discussed it, they'd decided to switch the two. Since Trinitite had no idea which movie she actually wanted to watch, she'd been able to convince Alex to discuss the topic over dinner. The fact that her friend would have less time to unintentionally probe into her story was also a bonus, but an unspoken one.
Alex bit his lip, shaking his head.
"That happened during writing, I think? I think they had to rewrite it once then, and then a second time when the abyssals attacked."
"So they were attacked, just not the actor?"
"No, no…" Alex paused, taking another sip of ice water. "I think the plot was about an underwater civilization rising from the waves to attack the surface… or something. I didn't follow the rumors that much, but apparently the optics make it really awkward considering current events. I don't know what it's about now, but it should be an interesting mess."
"You want to watch it?" She asked.
"Well…" Alex grimaced. "you probably haven't even seen Iron Man, right?"
"I haven't." The Wo-class answered. "Is he like a shipgirl?"
Alex broke into a silent chuckle, a balled fist hiding his features as he subtly bounced in his seat. Trinitite couldn't help a smile creep across her face as he recovered, returning to his phone.
"Let's see what else is playing." Alex mused, scrolling through the screen. "...looks like mostly horror movies…"
"What are those?"
"Eh… they try to scare you." The human explained. "My Mom hates them, so I haven't seen too many, but if you want to give it a try…"
"You don't seem very excited about it." Trinitite noted.
Her friend shrugged, but before he could reply, the waiter appeared again.
"Here's one Ahi Tuna appetizer!" He announced, sliding a plate onto the table. Alex nodded and smiled warmly, thanking the waiter, but Trinitite had trouble seeing why.
For twenty four dollars, it wasn't much of a meal. They'd clearly been given less than a sixth of the fish, the creature reduced to even, rectangular slices. They lay atop one another in the center of the plate, the garnishing vegetables failing to hide the fact that the majority of the dish was empty.
"Are your orders ready?"
"Yeah, we're ready." Alex reported.
"Wonderful!" The waiter chirped. "What would you like, Ma'am?"
He was looking at her, now.
"Uh-" she looked back down at her menu, mind suddenly blank. Why'd he have to ask her first? "That Mahi Mahi, please."
"Of course." He noted, writing the order down. "You won't be disappointed, ma'am. For the side?"
"The, ah, soup of the day, please." She read, completely unsure about what that really was.
"Sure thing." He wrote, gaze shifting to his friend. "And what do you want, sir?"
"I'll take the 8 ounce ribeye, please." Alex provided. "Medium rare, with a baked potato and ceasar salad."
"Alright," The waiter straightened, stuffing his pen into his pocket and holding his notebook in front of him, "that's a Garlic Lemon Mahi Mahi with the new england clam chowder, and a medium rare 8-ounce sirloin with a baked potato and caesar salad. Will that be all?"
Alex looked at her.
"I… think so." She provided.
"Great! We'll get those to you as soon as they're ready!" The waiter said, pocketing his notebook and leaving. "Enjoy your night!"
Hold on…
Trinitite paused, a gnawing wrongness settling in her keel as she watched the human leave. The source of the issue didn't emerge until she looked back at the fish, the twenty-four dollar dish sitting between the two. After a second, and Alex's questioning gaze, She voiced her concern.
"When do we pay them?" Had he just forgotten about the dish he'd set down?
"After we've eaten, they'll give us the bill." Alex's answer was short, and unsatisfying.
"That's awful trusting of them, isn't it?" The abyssal probed.
Alex's mouth opened, but he paused to reconsider his words. After a moment of regrouping his thoughts, he spoke.
"Maybe?" He provided, shrugging. "I haven't seen anyone walk away from their bill, but I'm sure it has happened."
"Why don't they?" She asked. "I mean, that has to cut into their profit a lot, right?"
Alex shrugged.
"Sarah, you're wonderful…" he unwrapped the white bundle that had been on the table, removing a fork and "...and I'm really sorry if this offends you, but- but I think you have some trust issues."
Trust issues? It was true that she couldn't really trust anyone here in human territory. There wasn't much she could do about it though, right? Every solution she had thought of had felt extremely risky.
"You could be right," She allowed, "but why would I trust someone I don't know?"
"Hmm." Alex's brow furrowed. "That's a good point, but-" He paused. A moment passed, then he skewered a slice of the Tuna and dipped it into a tray of sauce. The concern on his face didn't disappear as the fish disappeared into his mouth, the human pondering her problem as he chewed. Finally, he shook his head. "I don't know, it's really complicated and I haven't read up on it." To dismiss the subject, he waved his hand over the fish. "Why don't you try one of these?"
Trinitite paused.
"But… it's yours."
"Eh… not really?" Alex shrugged. "I'm paying for it, but it's for both of us."
The abyssal stared at the chopped morsel of meat. It was hardly enough for one person, let alone the two of them.
"But… it's yours." She repeated.
"Sarah." Alex chuckled. "I'm taking you out on this date, so I pay." As he spoke, he struck the table with his index finger, emphasizing his words with a tap. His point made, and with a victorious expression manning his features, he leaned back in his chair. "That's the rules. If you want to pay for a date, You'll have to ask me out!"
Trinitite's eyes narrowed as she studied the human. She couldn't find any hole in that logic, so…
"Hmmm, fine." She finally agreed, unwrapping her fork from the provided wipe. "I'll think of something, Alex."
The human's eyes suddenly widened, his face flushing red as his composure cracked.
"Not- not that you have to!" He stammered. "The trade is you spending time with me, so…"
"I do that for free, already." Trinitite commented, smirking as she reached across the table to skewer a slice. The tiny morsel fit into her mouth easily, meaning that she didn't taste anything until her lips closed, and her tongue made its first cautious probe of the slice.
Whatever Alex said in reply was lost to the abyssal as Trinitite froze, fork sliding from her lips as her mind was overwhelmed with flavors.
It was raw! Trinitite thought she recognized the shade and texture on visual inspection, but the fact she knew humans didn't eat raw meat meant she'd assumed it had been some kind of artificial coloring. Instead, she was surprised by the pure, deep taste of the ocean she'd missed for so long, and more. The strange dark shell that lined the meat was merely a layer of cooked meat, combining the nostalgic tastes of her old life with the flavors of the more sophisticated human cooking. She'd been afraid that, like the roast beef she'd tried previously, that the spices lining the edge of the slices would overcrowd the flavors of the meat, but they remained subtle, adding another layer to the… armada of sensation that had been packed into this tiny slice. Her teeth hardly saw any use as the Ahi Tuna dissolved on its own, leaving behind a deep savor as she swallowed.
A spark of spiciness flared in her throat, and she coughed, but it disappeared with a sip of ice water. The burning spark wasn't as unwelcome as she'd thought it would be, and despite that the abyssal found her fork making an independent approach towards the next slice. She needed more.
This time, she would dip it in the tray of sauce that had been provided with the fish, enjoying the way the salty, savory undertone added to the flavor. She needed another. Another! Trinitite had known she'd missed the taste of fish, but she'd never imagined she'd have the opportunity to enjoy the deep, pure flavor she'd loved so much back in the Crossroads fleet!
Deep, where had this food been all this time! No wonder the price was so high, they must know that they could charge anything they wanted, and she would pay for it! She needed another! Anot-
Her fork scraped across ceramic, and Trinitite suddenly realized the plate was empty. Had she just eaten… all of it? That entire twenty-four dollar meal, that Alex had bought explicitly for both of them… gone?
Horror dawned as she realized just how quickly the food had disappeared. Alex's money had just vanished in front of him, thrown away because she'd allowed her carrier appetite to reduce her to an unthinking predator. A monster, like what Alex no-doubt thought abyssals such as herself were!
"Oh." Trinitite blinked, looking back down at the now empty plate. Whatever she said now would ring hollow, but she had to say something. "I'm… sorry, Alex. I was just- there's no excuse, really."
"It's no problem." The human replied, waving his fork to show Trinitite the last slice of Ahi Tuna, before it disappeared into his mouth. After a moment of savoring the bite, he swallowed "I thought you'd like it, but wow. We're going to have to figure out how to cook that, aren't we?"
That sounded a lot more reasonable than her idea, which had been ordering another and making her pay for it, so Trinitite nodded.
"...Yeah, we should."
She could wait until they got home to experience it again. The price would be high, for fish it always was, but here it would be worth it.
- - -
The suspect's car had come to a stop at the southern edge of Chehalis, tucking into the lot of a local restaurant that had a reputation for fine dining. Walking into an establishment alone would be a little too noticeable, so the PI had little choice but to wait outside, her Spotify playlist keeping her thoughts focused as she passed the time.
If this were a bad romantic comedy, a poor screenwriter would have her call Brad, and the would have to act as a date so they could get closer to their targets. Thankfully, this wasn't one, and she wouldn't have to spend any more time around that psychopath than she had to. Even if she'd be willing to pretend to tolerate that manipulative asshole, there was no doubt he'd have to bring all of his Fed friends along, and then suddenly everything would become a 'tactical' situation. The only reason she knew about this at all was because the Lieutenant Commander had been ordered to find Trinitite without any help from the government, before his superiors had turned around and gotten them involved anyway.
She shook her head, allowing a smirk at her ex's dark situation to show itself. The constantly shifting, non-euclidian bureaucracy every public servant toiled under was one of many reasons she'd never tried for law enforcement.
Her gaze drifted down to her car's passenger seat, where the bug she'd been planning to plant in the Martin-Campos's car was hidden in an innocent-looking candy box. She didn't have a chance to plant it here, it was too bright and the restaurant's parking lot was far too public, but she had no reason to keep it in the hotel room. Maybe, once they were done with their little celebration, she'd slip it onto the underside of a seat tonight.
It had been forever since she'd gotten to covertly break into a car. Katie would have to get some research done while she waited for the family to go to sleep.
Her thoughts were set aside when she caught a pair of familiar faces among the trickle of humanity leaving the store. Alex, Trinitite… and no one else.
The detective blinked, watching the two separate from another group of leaving humans and make their way towards their vehicle, chatting all the while. Was this a… date?
Yes, she'd considered the idea that she'd seduced a human for shelter, plenty of folks in Brad's team had, but this was much more… sophisticated then she'd been expecting. Had she gotten the human to take her out to dinner, deluding the human into thinking they had a deeper connection, or had she underestimated Alex, and the little womanizer was dragging the abyssal into a romance?
The doors on their old car slammed shut, and Katie Harmon started turning her vehicle's engine over to follow them. She needed to see where the rest of the night was going.
When they'd been dating, Brad's unhealthy fascination had been focused on cults: Their leaders, followers, victims, the stuff people made youtube videos about. He'd always talked about becoming a counselor after his officer contract expired, but apparently that dream had been forgotten after the abyssal war had started. No doubt his morbid fascination had been stolen by the sea's baddest bitches, which was why he was still in the military.
Because of this morbid fascination, it'd be doing him a disservice if she didn't investigate this budding romance as deeply as possible, wouldn't it? The report she was planning on handing to Murray was getting more interesting by the moment.
I think I spent more time editing this chapter then normal: hopefully it shows, and hopefully you enjoyed!
Not entirely sure if I'm going to finish writing the date, or just timeskip to the next more important plot point. I'll start writing the former, and see if it works out, but no grantees. This chapter was an interesting product of both lightning fast writing blitzes that I had been looking forewords to writing since I started this arc and brutal, sentence-a-day slogs, depending on the part I was writing. Hopefully, my editing has made it difficult to determine which part is which, and the quality is on a relatively consistent level.
Whatever Alex said in reply was lost to the abyssal as Trinitite froze, fork sliding from her lips as her mind was overwhelmed with flavors.
It was raw! Trinitite thought she recognized the shade and texture on visual inspection, but the fact she knew humans didn't eat raw meat meant she'd assumed it had been some kind of artificial coloring. Instead, she was surprised by the pure, deep taste of the ocean she'd missed for so long, and more. The strange dark shell that lined the meat was merely a layer of cooked meat, combining the nostalgic tastes of her old life with the flavors of the more sophisticated human cooking. She'd been afraid that, like the roast beef she'd tried previously, that the spices lining the edge of the slices would overcrowd the flavors of the meat, but they remained subtle, adding another layer to the… armada of sensation that had been packed into this tiny slice. Her teeth hardly saw any use as the Ahi Tuna dissolved on its own, leaving behind a deep savor as she swallowed.
A spark of spiciness flared in her throat, and she coughed, but it disappeared with a sip of ice water. The burning spark wasn't as unwelcome as she'd thought it would be, and despite that the abyssal found her fork making an independent approach towards the next slice. She needed more.
This time, she would dip it in the tray of sauce that had been provided with the fish, enjoying the way the salty, savory undertone added to the flavor. She needed another. Another! Trinitite had known she'd missed the taste of fish, but she'd never imagined she'd have the opportunity to enjoy the deep, pure flavor she'd loved so much back in the Crossroads fleet!
Deep, where had this food been all this time! No wonder the price was so high, they must know that they could charge anything they wanted, and she would pay for it! She needed another! Anot-
Her fork scraped across ceramic, and Trinitite suddenly realized the plate was empty. Had she just eaten… all of it? That entire twenty-four dollar meal, that Alex had bought explicitly for both of them… gone?
Horror dawned as she realized just how quickly the food had disappeared.
I wonder if she would enjoy other types of sushi as well?
i'm imagining her abyssal nature allowing her to digest uncooked bones as well.
they go out fishing as a date, and the container for their catches keeps on mysteriously emptying itself.
i wonder if whales are on the menu?
i'm imagining back in the Old Days, she used to hoover up whalefalls.
Because of this morbid fascination, it'd be doing him a disservice if she didn't investigate this budding romance as deeply as possible, wouldn't it? The report she was planning on handing to Murray was getting more interesting by the moment.
"Sarah." Alex chuckled. "I'm taking you out on this date, so I pay." As he spoke, he struck the table with his index finger, emphasizing his words with a tap. His point made, and with a victorious expression manning his features, he leaned back in his chair. "That's the rules. If you want to pay for a date, You'll have to ask me out!"
Trinitite's eyes narrowed as she studied the human. She couldn't find any hole in that logic, so…
Because of this morbid fascination, it'd be doing him a disservice if she didn't investigate this budding romance as deeply as possible, wouldn't it? The report she was planning on handing to Murray was getting more interesting by the moment.
Besides, maybe the rude jokes were right. The monster had proven to be incredibly resourceful, and utilizing her looks to secure shelter and supplies didn't seem like too far of a stretch. On top of that, it would be just her luck if her eldritch rival scored before she did…
Even standing on her tiptoes, Ploma needed Sarah to crouch slightly so she could ruffle her scarf, shifting it so it lay slightly more evenly on her shoulders.
Hypocenter's daughter
(based on the snip by @TwinAttorney864 on Spacebattles' thread)
Hypocenter was sometimes having trouble believing how she had come here. She still remembered being sunk and then how the Falklands Island Princess had summoned her. A Falklands Island Princess that didn't even want to use her as you were supposed to use a fleet carrier. No, she wanted to send her, alone, on a suicide mission against Britain. Even though the odds of actually reaching Britain, alone, were negligible, let alone get through the Royal Navy (manned ships and shipgirls alike), RAF and so on, get a bombing raid away and manage to sink HMS Conqueror in its berth. If the bloody submarine was even in its berth. She could be anywhere.
Anyway, the Princess both sending her on a suicide mission with zero chance of success, and insulting mother, made sure that Hypocenter made a course correction once far away from the Falklands. She had some luck by being spotted by a small human convoy guarded by manned ships, and having been quick enough to pretend to deploy one of her life rafts, dismiss her rigging and climb in.
That was how she got inside the US, as a refugee, having been picked out of the water by a convoy. A convoy that thought she was the last survivor of another convoy, whose attackers had fled of the larger escort of the convoy that found her.
Now, nearly a year later, Hypocenter was once again at work. It was very strange to literally be helping construct a ship, a submarine of all things. Not one using the fire. No, the US Navy had opted to build a bunch of conventional ones to use as picket ships and covert scouts. These were largely based on the Gato-class. Although there were enough changes to make them effectively a sub-class. Hypocenter, or Helen as her co-workers knew her as, had even heard about how the Crazy One (the co-worker had said USS Barb, but every abyssal knew that American subgirl to be the Crazy One), well that said subgirl had helped in the design phase.
"Hi there, mother", a girl suddenly hissed, no one else seemed to hear it. Hypocenter looked around trying to find the girl, "what kind of ship are you?"
'Two minutes', Hypocenter mouthed, knowing she was almost due for a break.
Those two minutes later, Hypocenter managed to find an empty table and began her lunch break, the girl (who clearly couldn't be seen by anyone else), joined her at the table. "Why were you calling me mother?" Hypocenter immediately asked, "and who are you even."
"You're the only ship that is helping build me", the girl replied, "and I'm the submarine silly, I'm Fluckey."
"But normally I can't see the spirits of manned ships", Hypocenter realized, "why can I see you?"
"I don't know", Fluckey shrugged, "I've only ever been awake for 22 minutes ever. Have you ever tried building another ship before and then encountered said ship?"
"No", Hypocenter supposed, "that might be the reason I can see you. One thing, you said I was your mother, but the Crazy One designed you, so what is she?"
"That's a strange name", Fluckey thought.
"Her name is Barb", Hypocenter clarified.
"Then I suppose she's my mom", Fluckey decided.
From that day on, Hypocenter and her daughter Fluckey sat together at lunch nearly every day.
Hypocenter knew it was a bad idea, but Fluckey had pleaded for her to be present at her launch. Of course a full third of the Gato class was watching too. Little Fluckey stepped between Hypocenter and the Gato's when she was spotted. "Leave mother alone, mom", Fluckey pleaded, "and mother, please don't harm mom and my aunties. This is my launchday, and I want my family to celebrate it with me." Hypocenter really couldn't deny her daughter and dismissed her rigging.
USS Barb dismissed her rigging as well, to the utter confusion of her sisters (who couldn't see Fluckey, yeah, they could see her hull, but not the spirit). Fluckey would eventually get her wish and have her launch with her mother, mom and aunties watching.
...
TwinAttourney864 - Special Agent Mary Ridgeway - or - How NCIS Got Itself a Shipgirl
Finally got around to cross-posting this here. I have another snip on SB that I haven't put here yet, so I'll do it after the 24 hours
Thanks to Martin Bajar for pinging me here. I couldn't find the thread
Special Agent Mary Ridgeway - or - How NCIS Got Itself a Shipgirl
Special Agent McDonald was bored.
Anyone would be if they were put on 'recruitment duty'.
He scowled at the thought, as he kept bouncing the rubber ball off the wall, and back into his hand. The rhythmic noise it was making was the only thing to break the monotony of the fan blades rotating above him.
The Abyssal War had been going on for close to two years now, and things, for lack of a better word, mellowed out. For sure, the conflict was still raging elsewhere. The European states are in a constant deadlock with the Rock, Malta, and Azores Island Princesses, ANZAC is single-handedly recreating the Solomon Islands Campaign, Japan is in a two-front war over Taiwan and the Kuril Islands, and the Indian Ocean Princess ensured that there wasn't any large gap of calm between the two regions.
Even the Americas still have their fair share of problems. Hawaii is the big stickler, and the Navy launches raids on it constantly to at least hamper the Princess there. Attu Bay is taking up nearly 80% of Alaska's National Guard just containing her, the Argentinians are having a spat with Great Britain over what the hell they call The Islands before they launch a joint campaign over it, and for some goddamn reason French Guiana in its entirety fell Christmas of last year, giving the northern South American countries something to fear in the form of whatever Princess decided to set up there.
But here, in NCIS's New Orleans office, all that is far, far away, only on the other side of the TV and not anywhere in sight. Here, life goes…relatively normal for wartime. Besides the odd recruitment sign here or there depicting the various shipgirls all encouraging everyone to sign up and do their duty for humanity's survival, people wake up, go to work, hang out with each other, and do anything else they would do when a war isn't going on. To them, with the mediocrity of the Gulf of Mexico compared to other going-on in the world, it almost seems like the war's not there.
But MacDonald still realizes there's a war going on. He still knows.
He knows because the effort poached half of NCIS for the front lines or ONI. He knows because he was promoted four times over because they needed to fill out the command chain despite being wholly unqualified for it. He knows because the brass knew that, and they decided to have him 'celebrate' his promotions by being shipped off to the South East to head a recruitment office.
Yeah, he damn well knows.
*ring-a-ting*
Oh goodie, another 'prospective agent'.
"If you're looking for the Post Office," he began, sighing and pulling his chair forward to his desk, "You have the wrong door. It's across the hallwa-"
"Ummm, I'm not looking for the Post Office," a soft voice gently told him.
…
What
"I'm sorry, excuse me?"
MacDonald pushed his hat up, and set the ball down, to stare at the newcomer in the room. She looked, to put it lightly, like a goddamn giantess from one of those Fantasy VN's his sister played 'for the plot'. Standing in the center of the room, she took up nearly his whole field of view, even as she clasped her hands together and began to shrink into herself.
"I-umm…" she began, "The sign, o-outside, it said you were recruiting here, for the Navy?"
As she said this, she unclasped her hands and began to hug herself shyly, putting her arms around her…chest and hugging herself tightly while pawing at the threads of her wool sweater.
'Who wears wool sweaters in New Orleans?'
MacDonald stared at the woman for far longer than he'd like to admit, taking in all of the tiny details about her like they taught him in the Academy. She had dirty brown hair, with white tips at the end tied into a ponytail and shoved into a Yankees baseball cap. Her face was soft, and relaxed. She clearly seemed out of her element, but from more of a naive unknowing way than a general distaste for what she is asking.
MacDonald went down, lingering, but not stopping at her chest, gazing over that chest area he was sure was hidden below that sweater, before moving onto her toned chest and thick, creamy white le-
"Excuse me, sir?"
MacDonald's 'appreciation' of the lady was cut short by her calling out for him, leaning over in curiosity, and he very quickly stopped himself from continuing down that line of thinking. "U-um, not exactly, ma'am," he began, shuffling items on his desk haphazardly to distract his eyes from looking straight ahead. "This is a recruitment office for NCIS."
"En-Cee-Eye-Ess?" She sounded out slowly.
"Yes, ma'am," MacDonald swallowed, and continued, trying to remember the script he was taught for the job. "We are the civilian federal law enforcement agency uniquely responsible for investigating felony crime, preventing terrorism, and protecting secrets for the Navy and Marine Corps."
The young women could only blink in confusion.
He amended his words, coughing shortly, "We're sort of, like, a police force, but specialized in crimes that happen to Navy and Marine personnel."
"Oh," she said, softly. "So, this isn't a recruiting station for the Navy?"
"No ma'am," MacDonald shook his head. "That'll be a few blocks down at the Reserve Station on Russell Drive."
"I see," the girl said, shifting her weight on her feet. "Thank you for the directions."
The lady bowed, or at least tried to before stopping herself and narrowly missing the rubber end of MacDonald's pencil, before picking herself up and beginning to walk out of the doorway. As she started to go through it, MacDonald noticed something on the back of her legs.
"Wait a second, ma'am," MacDonald called out, as the large girl tried to duck underneath the top of the doorway, before freezing.
"Y-yes, sir?" She asked slowly, turning back to face him.
"Where did you get that tattoo on the back of your leg?" He asked, pointing to her left leg.
"Oh, that," she began, flexing the leg in front of her to catch a sight of the tattoo, which depicted tribal swirling patterns in curves that seem to encircle around a picture of an island chain. "It's…I used to live on an island, in the Marshalls, with my sisters and mother. Some islanders lived on it with us, and they offered to put it on my leg one time."
"It's very stylish," MacDonald commented, rubbing his chin in thought about getting one for himself before the second half of that statement registered in his head. "Wait, you lived on the islands?"
"...yes?" The girl answered, timidly.
MacDonald was reminded of a conversation he had one time with the commanding officer at the Reserve Base, who was rambling on about how many people wanted to sign up for commissions because of the ads of the shipgirls, only to find out half of them aren't qualified for it because they lacked a college degree and having been forced to send them to enlisted training. "Why do you want to join the Navy, if I may ask?"
"Oh! To find my Mother!" The large girl beamed with pride.
"Your mother?" MacDonald asked, cocking his head.
"Well, yes," the girl said, withdrawing her excitement at the realization that it was just him and her. "She…we were separated, during the evacuations. She took a boat to the Mainland, while I was flown across the country here. I haven't been able to find her."
"But then why join the Navy?" MacDonald wondered aloud.
"She…was an officer, in the Navy, a while ago," the girl revealed. "I had hoped that if I joined as well I may be able to find her."
MacDonald guessed something like that was the reason. "I'm sorry ma'am, but the Navy only accepts those with college degrees to officer school, and only those with high school diplomas into the enlisted ranks."
Given the girl began to deflate like a balloon, MacDonald guessed she didn't have either of them or hell maybe even a driver's license.
"But, I-I need to! I need to find my mother, please!" The girl rushed back into his office, and up to his desk where she leaned directly into his face.
As much as MacDonald wanted something else in his face right now, all he could do is swallow slowly and continue. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but even with the war going on the Navy can't afford to send underqualified people to training to defend the oceans."
The girl's face fell even more than it had, and she slumped into the seat in front of MacDonald's desk. The agent could almost swear he could begin to see some clear liquid leak out of the side of her eyes.
MacDonald was incompetent, but he was also a sucker. Seeing the poor lady begin to cry right there, he knew he had to do something before he had a sobbing 6-foot-something refugee bawling out on his floor.
"Hey hey hey," he stood out of his seat and walked around to comfort the girl. "It's fine, I'm sure you'll be able to find your mother after the-"
"I can't!" The girl exclaimed indignantly, standing up sharply and forcing MacDonald to step back slightly. "I can't wait until the war ends, I need to find her now!"
MacDonald swears that, to this day, the lady's eyes began to fucking glow.
He didn't know what was going on, but he needed to calm her down, and fast.
"What if you work for us?!" He offered quickly, trying to dissuade the ever-erratic girl.
It…seemed to work? MacDonald could only breathe an internal sigh of relief as the girl stopped and spun around, tears almost steaming down her slightly tan cheeks. "W-what?"
MacDonald realized she was still talking to him and quickly collected himself. "At NCIS. You can work for us at NCIS."
"R-really?!"
Staring at the hopeful smile that began to grow on the lady's face, MacDonald quickly filed away the notion of a lack of any paperwork, driver's license, criminal background checks, or even vision tests and focused on calming the distressed girl. "Sure. You don't need any educational requirements to work here, and the training regime is easier than it is at the Navy."
That was a blatant fucking lie, but best not to dwell on it.
"Can…can you find my mother?" She asked, trying to dab away the tears with the sleeves of her shirt.
"If she was a Navy officer like you said she was, probably." MacDonald shrugged. "We have records of all personnel that work for the Navy and Marines. I'm sure we can find your mother eventually."
MacDonald was expecting a hectic amount of 'thank you's, or maybe some apologies for nearly crying in a government office, but he did not expect the giantess to pick him up, off the ground, and pull him into a bear hug.
"Ohthankyouthankyouthankyou!" The girl exclaimed wildly with joy, jumping up and down and abusing his poor office floor. With every jump, she squeezed him into her chest even more, and up against a very specific part of her chest.
'Fuck me these are some nice-'
AN: If it wasn't clear, yes that's Hypocenter
*cue Star Wars music*
Nah, I'm kidding
The door slammed shut, as Special Agent MacDonald stood up from lying against the side of the car. "Remember, Mary, let me do the talking."
"Why are we even here again?" 'Mary' asked, resting her hand on top of her Sig Sauer and kicking a rock, "Shouldn't we be running the drug ring sting op aboard the George Washington?"
"That's Wendy's job," MacDonald said, as they walked up the path to the front door. "Besides, special request from some bigwig at ONI who didn't want this to be traced back to them."
"You mean they don't want to waste their time trying to figure out which carrier to write up," Mary sighed and rolled her eyes. "Isn't Randolph still persona-non-grata from Bremerton after breaking into the local Burger Kings?"
"Yes," MacDonald revealed, pressing the doorbell. "What still confuses me is why, out of all places, did she break into Burger Kings? I'd have understood, like, Chick-Fil-A, but BK?"
Their conversation was cut short by the door opening, and a man stepping out to greet him. "Are you-?"
MacDonald pulled out his wallet, "NCIS, Mr. Clarke. We were told your wife may have some information on which carrier robbed her store?"
"Yeah, come in," Mr. Clarke stepped aside to let the agents into the house. "I'll go see if she's awake."
Can't wait for the good omake dimension to pump out na omkae, where Katie calls-in NCIS to get Trinitite to drop her guise, only for Hypocenter and Trinitite to detect one another on radar and act-out a reunion between sisters, in presence of official media.
Ah... shame OP has plans and this is impropable...
Martin Bajar - Barb's "totally" most excellent plan
Barb's "totally" most excellent plan
USS Barb was pleased to get a chance to introduce her daughter to her grandmother on the Abyssal Essex' side. Sure, technically, she was merely following USS Fluckey who was actually supposed to go to Japan with her crew (overdue vacation days were kind of useful, why did no one ever tell Barb she could take up vacation days?)
Anyhow, it was time for USS Barb to go and track down Saratoga, luckily she had a secret plan. Luckily she had passed through the Atlantic Underwater Black Market (which was a genius plan by the girls of the Dutch subgirls). There she had traded with some girls from the Bundesmarine, specifically the Marinekommando Schiffsfrauen's Unterseeabteilung, she had gotten hold of some excellent contraband to trade with the Japanese subgirls. Like loads of pirated submarine movies (including the version the Germans had spread in Europe of Das Boot, with the final scene shortened, having it end with the sub safely reaching port was much better was the general conclusion of the various subgirls). Anyhow, the Royal Navy Shipgirl Command, submarine department's girls had also been able to source some actual proper navy rum.
Of course she could have gotten more, but while Iku wanted her to provide her with candid shots from Warspite and Dreadnaught, Barb wasn't that crazy. Sure, she did like the fact the Abyssals apparently referred to her as "the Crazy One", that was an excellent nickname. But that didn't mean that she would be mad enough to go and annoy Warspite (who had refused to replace her Fairey Swordfish floatplane and had it always ready to divebomb subs) or get close enough to an annoyed Dreadnaught allowing her to perform a ramming maneuver. No, the rest of her contraband should suffice.
The Japanese subgirls had come true, having tracked down the location where Saratoga was apparently teaching Japanese carriergirls. "Yo, Saratoga", Barb hissed, having just snuck into the dorms, "I have a message for you."
"Let me get this straight", Saratoga recapped, "one of my other abyssal daughters, Hypocenter, went AWOL from the Abyssal princess who resummoned her, Hypocenter then somehow got in the US. Helped build a submarine. And now said submarine considers Hypocenter her mom."
"Almost", Barb corrected, "I'm the mom, cause I helped design her. Hypocenter is her mother."
"And you and Hypocenter can see her spirit, but no one else?" Saratoga wanted confirmed.
"Maybe you can, I don't know", Barb confirmed, "she's in Sasebo right now."
Saratoga did manage to arrange for herself to take up a few vacation days and soon found herself in a train station, waiting for the train to Sasebo with Barb. "This does take me back", Barb smiled, "did you now I once sank a train?"
"How do you sink a train, or even touch it?" Saratoga asked.
"Well", Barb began, "it went like this …"
A few days later, Barb was heading back home. Yes, she would undoubtedly be in some trouble for her unsanctioned trip to Japan. But having seen Fluckey's face when she realized her grandmother could also see her, made it all worth it.
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Annoyed Catholic - Jokes, Slightly Snide Comments, and Asides
Pulling out a twin of that device that Crusades had been committed by the Imperium for just a few mere fragmented recordings/files and places it within the Lexington class admiral's shocked hands.
With Trinitite
I KNOW what that thing this . . .blue haired Sister of Battle (or whatever she ACTUALLY is with those blue glowing wings of her's) is placing in my flummoxed Princess' hands. My mother hides it well, but this was NOT expected by her here. I have been at her side long enough now to know what she actually is feeling (and not just assuming IT like I and my sisters had back when she had been the Jellyfish Princess).
But that said, while she and the others may be a bit flustered at this turn of events (after being basically sidelined for so LONG), it is ME who voices that one QUESTION I and my entire Fleet has on the tip of their tongues.
"L-look!" I find myself asking Rei. "Just who ARE you exactly and just WHY are you giving us this?!"
Rei glaces over at me, then at John Quatermain in askance.
"Hey, I didn't get to that part yet," the boy protests, raising his hands defensively. "I got to the part which was about why the Emperor was so interested in them. I mean you do NOT want to just DUMP everything all at once with this audience and expect it to turn out okay and fine, yeah?"
"Yes," Rei sighs, pinching nose slightly. Apparently being able to do such things with a NICE design feature which prevented crushed nasal passages! "That would be called being tactful. Blimey!"
True but . . .
Yes! Something about our shipgirl nature being magical in some way that would have been an effective tool against the Chaos Gods....
Oh God! This . . .that is an actual THING instead of something dreamed up by Games Workshop. I and the others had KNOWN that this was . . .real, but it just hits me again and . . .
Oh shit!!
SHIT!
Swallowing the sudden lump in my throat, I look over at the Emperor/James Bond who's nodding.
"Indeed!" the 'Man of Mystery/Master of Mankind' confirmed to all present. "I had been searching for Rei's 'family' ever since the Moonraker incident, being what I had been able to Sense during their time with me aiding me against the Ruinous Powers. With how during Their attempts of subverting my son? With Willow using her powers to be able to sneak up right next to Slaanesh to ask for help trying to bring her friend back from the dead? Undetected?"
Say WHAT?! Something about that had mentioned about this business, but NOT that!!
"What . . .the damn Prince of Pleasure Slaanesh?" Georgia swore softly to herself. "What was Willow doing? Using her Wisdom score as a dump stat?! I mean just because that Demon God might look much more beautiful than her/his counterparts does NOT mean you should do something like that!!"
"About that," Rei chuckled darkly, clearly recalling that event and being LESS than pleased with Buffy's friend. "While I DO agree that Willow WAS extremely . . . foolish for having gone to She Who Hungers for aid, just because of the Three Ruinous Powers that particular one was the most had no business! . . ."
Rei paused to close her eyes and draw in a cleansing breath and starts again after muttering something about how Willow SHOULD have made SURE that Buffy had gotten damned to a Hell dimension before magically dragging her back to life. How Willow had caught ALL the Ruinous Powers with their pants down, and instead of striking at them . . .
Another breath, and then she continues after swallowing any further rants.
Obviously, Rei had a Serious issues with Willow from this TV show "Buffy the Vampire Slayer". She'd never SEEN that show back on Earth but heard many . . .less than stellar things about it. A lot of good things but a lot of bad things as well. A mix if you will.
Of all the imports from Georgia's Earth since the Breakthrough years ago, one of the favorites of her Fleet was the Star Trek series. And the "original series" at that.
She could take it or leave it, but . . .she had seen enough to at least KNOW who Kirk and the Enterprise was here. But...
That wasn't important right now.
"Bottom line," Rei said with a particularly nasty smile. "THAT instance of Willow was a blockhead of the first order and I am VERY happy to say that all her magical might got stripped PERMANENTLY! But that is irrelevant and besides the point here and now.
"Let us start with answering your questions finally," the blue haired woman starts. "But between an Emperor in charge of around 500 trillion subjects...."
Almost against Trinitite's will she suddenly recalled an old internet meme...
The Essex Class shipgirl made a slight shudder, at least getting this winged woman's point. The sheer might of the Imperium wasn't something to ignore. Size matters!
She'd thought it had been something like that, but it was nice that Rei had said it aloud as something of a round about apology.
"And then we have the Star Trek folk here," Rei continued. "We have to actually TALK them into taking it before we parted ways! Considering how some OF them really are NOT from the animated series episode The Magicks of Megas-tu, but from a prior . . . rather violent interaction from earlier."
"Animated series?" Trinite blinked, glancing over at Georgia (who's looking a bit puzzled herself at this turn of things). "I only thought that hack Rodenberry made live action TV shows and movies for Star Trek."
"And . . .what do you mean by 'violent interaction'?" Saratoga added, finding herself oddly interested despite herself, even IF it was sidetracking things slightly.
Others, like the Emperer was looking curious now. Giving Rei's armour a look and then one at Kirk, as if wondering how the captain and the Bridge Crew was still breathing!
"Not in power armor!" Rei protested. "But . . . earlier in another Quest where I and my friends had been on to prevent a LOT of people die screaming."
"Like two Earths," John muttered to himself, glaring slightly at Kirk. "One of them being MINE."
The young man apparently had realized what the 'violent interaction' entailed here.
While not endangered by Kirk's crew having gone barmy for some reason and attacking Rei's group (before John had joined), the Master . . .
YES the MASTER as in Doctor Who's infamous opponent! Or rather one who'd been trying to turn a new leaf and go the route of . . .an anti-villain/mercenary. One who was trying to re-brand as some kind of "principled" mercenary. Dark Deeds he would do, but one he'd do for pay. And he'd stick to the terms of the contract without bending it or breaking it for his own gains.
OH, and it turned out that the Doctor (of that Master's reality) had been overtaken/possessed by a super villain Time Lord called Vale Yard. And had been manipulating the Master for the longest time.
Long story.
Author's Note: the parts I wrote in it under the pen name Rule179? Back at a place called Sir Toby.
I will NOT inflict that and the other drek I wrote there directly. Just use the search engine there to see it and other garbage I wrote if you dare.
Long short, in one "Hail Mary" spell/move, Rei's group had been sent hurtling through realities to save two worlds. And in one stop had dropped in on the bridge of the Enterprise. As they were traveling back through time. During the episode "The Naked Time", but one with a improved "cure" somewhat less effective than the original "as seen on TV" one McCoy cooked up.
The one that got sabotaged by Randall Flag, leaving instead McCoy rushing things and getting something that would eventually run it's course and completely cure the Crew, but leave them more than slightly hostile to anyone/ any thing not their immediate crew/friends of the Enterprise.
The one which caused everyone going "REEE!" And attacking Rei and friends (drunkenly). Leaving the hapless adventurers having to defend themselves with heavy stun (and more than a bit of melee, leaving a LOT of injured bridge crew).
And LOTS and lots of hard feelings on both sides of things.
Rei at least tried to put Kirk's group in the best light, in order to let him (and her) save face and just shove all blame to the mess upon Flagg.
"Ah, and all that said I need to still get a working STC to my home reality in case my Quest fails," Rei winds down, looking at the former Wo-class carrier. "With the Ruinous Powers being a thing in the Emperor's reality and the crossover Star Trek/Warhammer 40K crossover reality that . . .certain people
present in the crowd will be interested in here taken care of?"
One certain young seeming woman (who was NOT FAIR nor MAIDEN), nods slightly. Happy to hang back and continue to steer Humanity from the shadows.
Oh, Uhura had so Many questions for her .. . .brother.
Maybe later when the chance presented itself. Like for one why in the name of God was he dressed in so much GOLD!? And the Imperial Truths?
WHAT?!
"I don't want MY reality to be left hanging with ANY possibility of anything 40K leaking in!" Rei finished up. "After EVERYTHING else I believe you'll forgive me for the imposition!
"All we ask that you create an FTL radio and contact my home when you can?" she finished, looking at Trinitite and Saratoga, almost begging.
"Might be sooner than you think boss," John puts in from the side. "They have colonies all the way out to Mars here!"
"To Titan," Saratoga corrected, smiling more than a bit smugly at the blinks that that causes some of the Star Trekkers present. "And we EVEN have something that could be confused as a single world government? Goes well with the Federation entry requirement, yes?"
The last was aimed directly at Kirk, who'd not been well liked for his stance on them getting a piece of technology "TOO dangerous" for their primitive selves....
"But where do I and my family come into this?" the Crane Princess asked. "What did this Flagg want with us?"
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.
Compared to the dark of the theater, the hallway felt vibrant, its glow mingling with those leaving the movie. The… couple walked together in silence, digesting the film they'd witnessed as they trekked towards the lobby.
It had been too long since he'd been to a theater. Alex didn't even remember the last movie he'd seen a film on the big screen.
This one… wouldn't have been his ideal pick, if he was being honest with himself. It wasn't bad, per se, but it clearly wasn't made for him. In the first half, at least, most of the humor seemed to be catered to kids, while it was probably chock-full of crime movie references that went far over his head, let alone Sarah's. Good thing it picked up in the second half.
His opinion didn't matter, though. At least, not right now.
"So," Alex led, glancing to his left, "how'd you like it?"
"I…" Sarah started. Her eyes were wide, her footsteps lagging slightly behind Alex's as she digested the movie. "I have so many questions."
"Was it too much?" Alex asked, and Sarah hastily shook her head.
"No, no! At least, I don't think so…" she trailed off, seeming to take her pick of the questions she'd mentioned. "How did they make that?"
"It's computer animation." He described. "Kind of like a video game, where they have a computer generate every frame of the video."
"They can do that?" She asked, adding another question before he could answer. "What's a video game?"
"Oh, you haven't played a video game?" That really shouldn't have been a surprise to him, but it was. "We'll have to fix that tomorrow."
Hmm, what kind of game would Sarah like? His first thought would be some kind of historical strategy game, but not only would he have to buy one, but they might be far too complex for somebody's first game. Perhaps he should break out the family's switch and see what interested her-
Sarah wasn't following him anymore.
Alex turned to see that his friend had stopped, her attention seized. He stopped as well, a question forming on his lips as Sarah remained transfixed… staring at one of the theater's displays.
A pair of larger-than-life men dominated the wall-sized display, standing proud in their flight suits as vintage aircraft buzzed around them. Images of fire and snow dominated the bottom of the display, framing a simple, sans-serif title:
DEVOTION
"That date…" Sarah muttered, before turning to Alex. "That's when this movie is going to be available, right?"
"Yeah." Alex confirmed. He'd seen the trailer a couple times on youtube, but hadn't been all that interested, until now. "Want to see it on Thanksgiving weekend?"
"I do." She nodded, turning her attention back to the display. "Those are Corsairs… is it about world war 2?"
"Korean war, I think."
"1950, then. Four years after-" Sarah blinked, seeming to catch herself as she looked back to Alex. "Er, yeah, I want to see it. Another date?"
"Absolutely." Her strange hangup was forgotten as a goofy smile spread across his face. "Although I was hoping we'd have one next week, as well."
His bank account would weep, but it would be worth it.
"Let me handle that one." She ordered, smiling.
"Okay, if you wish." Alex easily relented, allowing his relief to seep into his voice. "I'm just glad this one hasn't been a disaster, yet."
"Don't say that!" Sarah chuckled, throwing a balled fist in a weak imitation of punching Alex. "Not until it's over!"
- - -
The PI leaned against the wall, fighting to get her heartbeat under control. Katie had been certain she'd been following from a safe distance, keeping the pair only loosely in her sight, but when the abyssal abruptly turned and looked to her side, a flare of panic ran through the investigator. In a moment, she'd stepped into another theater, wondering if the Wo-class was more observant than she'd thought…
…but no, she's merely taken an interest in a cardboard display.
It hadn't been the problem Katie had feared, but it highlighted another: Trinitite wasn't the regular debt dodger or rebellious child she was experienced in tracking. The abyssal wasn't even human, and that meant she had all kinds of capabilities Katie wasn't aware of. Ships had lookouts, radar, sonar, and… really big binoculars, or something. Were those things active with her rigging hidden?
She'd have to find a way to ask Nashville, without rousing her suspicions. Until then, she'd be relying much more on… indirect intelligence gathering.
- - -
Alex fought to keep his attention focused on the road, thoughts buzzing between the beauty in the passenger seat and the night they'd just had.
The date hadn't gone perfectly. Dinner had been incredibly expensive, and the movie was only okay, not a classic like The Princess Bride, but no plan went perfectly. As far as problems went, however, these weren't major, dwarfed by the pleasant discussions they'd had and the wonderful meal.
"So…" Sarah started, and an alarm sounded in Alex's mind. The drive had been initially quiet, the newly-formed couple spending minutes listening to whatever variety of music Spotify felt like playing, and given Sarah's hesitancy, she was reluctant to break that. "...that movie insisted that there's good in everyone, no matter how monstrous they are, right? Regardless of the terrible things they did?"
"Yeah, it did." Alex replied. That message had been conveyed with the subtlety of a dropped anvil. What about it was bothering her?
"You think that's really true?" She asked.
Alex almost replied with an 'of course,' but hesitated. Sure, that was a good notion, sure, but there were some incredibly dangerous people out there. Would he say the same about a serial killer?
"Those guys were attacking people and stealing their stuff." Trinitite continued, unprompted. "Except for method and scale, I can't think of how that's much different from what abyssals do."
"Those guys didn't kill anyone." Alex pointed out. That was a pretty big sticking point, but as a victim of abyssals, wouldn't she know this better than anyone? Where was she headed with this?
"Eeh, if those things really happened, a lot of police would have died." Trinitite replied.
"Then it would have been a very different movie." He noted.
"Would it? How?" In the corner of his vision, Sarah shook her head. "It doesn't change the fact they didn't know anything better until then."
Perhaps the silence hadn't been as pleasant as he'd thought. She clearly was wrestling with something…
"...What are you trying to say, Sarah?"
Alex weighed his words carefully, trying to help his friend understand that he wouldn't judge her, but he still felt an accusation in his voice he hadn't intended.
"Well, it's just-" Sarah hesitated, breathing meaningfully. "You think there's any chance for an abyssal to, you know…"
In the movie's overly-simplified terminology, to be good? Right now, that obviously wasn't true, and stuff like destroying cities was absolutely inexcusable, but…
"Hmm, maybe?" He finally said, mind flitting to something Sarah had said earlier. "There's those neutral princesses you were talking about."
"People used to live in those places, though." She reminded him. "They're still pretty bad, just not still attacking people."
"Then I don't know." He admitted. How could he, considering how mysterious the sea monsters were? "Think you could forgive the abyssals who attacked your family, if they said they didn't know any better?"
There was a pause, as it slowly dawned on Alex what he'd just said. Horror set in as he started cursing himself. Why the hell had he thought bringing them up would be a good idea? Why hadn't he thought at all?
"I… I don't know either, Alex." Sarah's voice was low, contemplative. She probably hadn't taken offense, but…
What a terrible way to end a date.
"I'm sorry for bringing them up, Sarah."
"I mean-" Sarah started, before haltingly speaking up again, "if they really didn't know any better, maybe they should, but…"
…easier said than done, he quietly finished.
"Don't worry about it too much." He tried to reassure her, guiding the car into their neighborhood. "No abyssal has been trying to get better, so the next step's moot."
"I guess." Sarah agreed. "We should be prepared if they do though, right?"
"Maybe, yeah." He allowed. Because of Sarah's interest, Alex had been digging a bit more into the war, and between some of the stuff he'd seen and what they'd done to Sarah, the idea they might have humanity seemed like baseless hope, but… "It would be nice…"
- - -
Sleep wasn't coming easily to Trinitite.
The abyssal lay in the back of the old vehicle, her phone lying by her side. It was charged and ready for use, but at the moment it remained dark as the abyssal's thoughts drifted.
The day had been so… eventful! As intuitive as the team was, in the morning, Alex's fleet proved to be excellent when coordinating with her own. That american damage control ability was unsurprisingly powerful, and the game's system was very kind to 5"/38s. If she could convince him to shift his force composition to more surface combatants, her… boyfriend could arrange a spectacular screen for her sisters!
Despite the great games, Valkyries of Ran had hardly been the highlight of the day. That, of course, had concluded only a few hours ago. She'd had no idea what to expect the date to be like. Her research had yielded wildly inconsistent results, after all, and while she liked Alex, she didn't know him well enough to be able to predict his actions.
At the end of the day, the speculation had proven just as unnecessary as she'd feared, but that hadn't been a bad thing. They'd just… gone somewhere unusual, then talked about it with each other. There had been rules, yes, but Alex clearly hadn't taken them seriously, with one exception.
The Wo-class frowned, pale light flooding the vehicle as she raised her phone. She'd accrued a lot of debt during the date, despite Alex's assertions that the 'rules' nullified it, and had managed to leverage that to take charge of the next date. She needed to form a plan for next Saturday, and that meant research.
Trinitite sighed, allowing her phone to rest on her collar as her gaze drifted back to the vehicle's ceiling. Despite just going on one, she still wasn't sure where to start planning a date. It wasn't always dinner and a movie, so what else could it be? How was a second date different from a first? When were negotiations, real negotiations about the nature of the relationship, held?
She shifted in the vehicle's bed as the song playing on her radio shifted, a series of artificial-sounding beeps interrupting her thoughts before they settled into a calm, but somewhat uneasy rhythm.
"Welcome to your world… There's no turning back…"
She didn't really want to admit it, but between the muted tones constantly drifting from Jack in the Box's 1MC and the songs leaking from the vehicle's radio when she rode with Alex, the abyssal was starting to find human music less and less objectionable. She didn't just listen to the grand, sweeping emotions ingrained in classical music, but she was starting to suspect there was a deeper meaning to the words the singer was weaving into the radio waves. It was like some coded message. At times, the words made no sense to the abyssal at all, but at others the singer seemed to be speaking directly to her. This wasn't the only song where this happened, one of the reasons the song about a hotel unnerved the Wo-class so much was probably because she'd subconsciously picked up on a hidden meaning, but hadn't been able to figure it out.
As the song wrapped up and the next one started, Trinitite's thoughts drifted back to her night.
The meal had been wonderful, if expensive. Trinitite needed to know how to recreate that 'Ahi Tuna,' but she suspected even procuring the supplies would be costly. She wouldn't ask Paloma to buy them without contributing more of her limited funds to compensate.
After the meal, the movie had been… interesting, insomuch as it left Trinitite so many questions. She'd been so overwhelmed with all the noise and the events going on that she had trouble following it, but the basis of the depicted events wasn't lost on her. A team of 'bad' creatures, whose presence caused fear and panic in the average human, spent their time raiding human society to gather valuable resources that they just… hoarded.
The rest of the movie happened after they were captured by the police, the little fleet pretending to 'go good,' until they eventually succumbed to their own ruse and embraced human values at the end of the movie. It felt a little… manipulative, but the message they were trying to convey seemed to be aimed at other humans to just be civil to each other, so any objection she had didn't seem as important as the film's unintentional message.
Could she just reveal herself, proclaiming to human society that she was 'good' now, and could expect nothing more than a year in a 'prison?'
Of course not. First of all, abyssals weren't just stealing valuables. Forgetting the rest of her kind, she had killed, and The Navy may know that. It was difficult to track submarine kills, but Trinitite had sent more than one to crush depth. Above the waves, she'd seen plenty of aircraft falling into the sea, and fewer parachutes. She'd done nothing to aid those downed pilots, either, and many probably succumbed to the sea, killed by her as surely as if she'd shot them. The thought of helping them just… hadn't occurred to her, until a few weeks ago, and by then obviously it was too late.
All of that had been in self-defense, but considering the cargo she'd been protecting, she doubted the humans would appreciate the argument.
On a more personal level, her story about being a victim of abyssals was backfiring. As Alex's opinion of her improved, his attitude towards her kind seemed to worsen. She might have to tell him eventually, but it seemed like the more she trusted her, the more hurt the human would be if she revealed herself to him! Unless she could soften his opinions on her family's supposed killers, the Wo-class would have to keep her nature a secret.
Which was unfortunate, because Alex absolutely deserved to know. All the time and money he'd invested into her–
The Abyssal's thoughts were interrupted by a blare of a horn, accompanied by a sudden flash of light. She abruptly sat up as the noise and light repeated, clearly indicating some kind of alarm. Torn between the need to investigate the cause and the desire to hide from whatever had caused it, the Wo-class sat up on her knees to get a covert peek outside. The layers of blankets shifted and wrinkled as she crawled forwards, peeking out the dusty back window.
The Martin-Campos's car, the very vehicle Alex and herself had ridden in all of today, was blaring, lights periodically bathing the driveway in yellow and red.
She didn't dare move as she watched the alarming vehicle, rangefinders flicking over the rest of the driveway for any source of the alarm. Sure, it could be due to a mechanical issue, completely spurious, or not really be an alarm at all, but as a warship in enemy territory, Trinitite felt she had no choice but to treat it as a security warning.
Perhaps it really was nothing, as nobody from the Martin-Campos fleet left the house to investigate the car's wailing, but Trinitite couldn't really afford to dismiss something like that, could she?
What could she do, though? The abyssal's mind raced, hull frozen in paranoid fear as she considered her options. Run? No, she had gotten so much done, here! How could she abandon it over some unexplained noise and light? Marines, to investigate or stand as sentries? No, they were useless! Plus, where could they hide among the short-cropped grass and well-traveled sidewalks? What about the remote cameras that had been in the movie? How could she even set those up, and wouldn't The Navy know how to defeat them?
Almost as abruptly as it had begun, the alarm stopped. Darkness returned to Trinitite, the radio's carefree tones reasserting themselves. She quietly, slowly eased herself out of view, slithering under a blanket to hide the light of her phone from the outside.
Car alarms were caused by sudden jolts to the vehicle. This could be due to an attacker breaking a window, or an animal jumping from the tree that hung over the vehicle onto the hood. There hadn't been any broken windows, so it was probably something she shouldn't worry about.
Probably.
Well, if the government had found her, wouldn't they already have moved to sink her? Why would they mess with a car next to her, instead of confronting her directly?
It wasn't a very convincing thought.
- - -
Damnit, damnit, damnit!
Katie lay behind the row of bushes, cursing herself as she fought the adrenaline coursing through her body. Yes, it had been forever since she'd tried to break into a car, but she hadn't realized that this ancient shitbox would be so sensitive! She'd scrambled away from the vehicle as soon as the alarm started, which might not have been soon enough, considering the Wo-class was sleeping in the neglected old SUV parked further into the property. Thankfully, Katie didn't seem to have been noticed, but it did mean she wouldn't be trying this again. She'd have to find another way to sneak the bug into the car, or another method entirely.
Slowly, quietly, she started making her way away from the Martin-Campos house. She needed to rethink her tactics, perhaps moving on to plan B. It would require more active surveillance, but wouldn't require as much risk to set up, keeping her at a much safer distance.
In a way, it was kind of nice to run into so many setbacks. She hadn't faced a query this interesting in a long time…
Ayy, new chapter's out! This one fought me a bit, but I'm fairly happy with how it turned out. Originally, it wasn't going to be a chapter at all, with Trin reviewing these events in retrospect while working in the next chapter, but that felt a little passive for everything I wanted to happen here. I think that mindset is why this fic has gotten so long, which is probably both a good and bad thing.
This one… wouldn't have been his ideal pick, if he was being honest with himself. It wasn't bad, per se, but it clearly wasn't made for him. In the first half, at least, most of the humor seemed to be catered to kids, while it was probably chock-full of crime movie references that went far over his head, let alone Sarah's. Good thing it picked up in the second half.
A team of 'bad' creatures, whose presence caused fear and panic in the average human, spent their time raiding human society to gather valuable resources that they just… hoarded.
The rest of the movie happened after they were captured by the police, the little fleet pretending to 'go good,' until they eventually succumbed to their own ruse and embraced human values at the end of the movie.
It might just be that I don't watch a lot of cinema, but I don't recognise the plot, the discussion last chapter of what film to go see cut off before they made a decision, and this update also avoids naming the particular film. Is it one you made up for plot purposes?
Okay, so I went through this update and the previous one carefully, and I still can't figure out what film they watched.
It might just be that I don't watch a lot of cinema, but I don't recognise the plot, the discussion last chapter of what film to go see cut off before they made a decision, and this update also avoids naming the particular film. Is it one you made up for plot purposes?
Trinitite was a bit bored, she was idly looking through the internet. Even the funny video's failed to grasp her attention. That's when she spotted it: something called 'All Wo-rk and No Play: An Abyssal's Trials in the Job Market (KC)' that sounded highly interesting. She wondered what the humans would write about a Wo in her position.
In a way, CFS Trinitite had been relieved when one of Firestorm's scouting aircraft spotted the enemy fleet. The Firebringers had been hitting the Princess's throne for weeks now, forcing her to abandon it and putting the Crossroads Fleet on edge. The incoming fleet was worrying, but it meant that things were going to be resolved, one way or another.
But that was not fiction, that were her actual thoughts at the time. How, what? Trinitite didn't understand it at all. She couldn't help it and started reading through the whole thing, now wondering whether mother really was in Japan as was said on the thread. Or whether the whole hunt for her was really going on as it did on there. Then she went through the Apocrypha. Well, some of those were ... somewhat plausible, she supposed. Would this Langley really be her grandmother though? and this Robin/Vicky, whichever was her actual name, truly be her aunt?
Next she began scrolling through the comments, it was kind of nice to read these humans on Sufficient Velocity actually seeming to like her. Trinitite saw the register function and thought long about it, should she?
At the end, Trinitite decided to take the plunge and registered an account on Sufficient Velocity. It sure would be nice to have these people to talk with online.
...and we're done with the Central sidestory! I learned a lot of lessons about storytelling from writing this, and I did have some good fun writing some scenes, but I'm glad this sidestory's behind me. Another sidestory probably won't happen until after the current arc is done, and even then they'll be more character-focused oneshots, not attempts at writing war epics like this one was.
I hope you enjoy!
Southeast of Oahu
HI, 15 Nov 2022
Even from here, she could hear The Spear. The tiny projectile was invisible to the battleship, but as it punched a hole in the sky above her it betrayed its presence in the form of a dull, deep tearing noise.
Not much different from any other artillery.
If the experimental weapon worked as advertised, that meant they wouldn't have to deal with those monstrous 16-inch guns. If it didn't, then the hope was they had enough steel to bury them anyways.
She bit her lip, shifting to look at the other two ships in her division. It was one of three such divisions, arranged in a loose line abreast. She was told they formed the largest human battle line the war had seen so far. Fore and to their flanks, eighteen cruisers formed a loose screen, while tight lines of destroyers ranged ahead of them. There was only one steel hull in this phase of the operation, lurking under the waves outside the bay, but only the worst case scenarios called for her to join the battle.
Humanity had bled enough for Oahu already. It was time for their guardians to live up to their duties.
The morning sun was behind them, rays of light peeking under the abyssal cloudfront and highlighting the fleet. The hopeful rays fell significantly short of the island, the Central Princess's domain slowly creeping over the horizon as they approached.
Suddenly, Oahu's ancient dark peaks were devoured by the clouds above them. A sudden torrent of rain blocked their view, spreading out from the island and crashing over her prow. The Spear must have found something, then, the weather souring at its master's whims.
Immediately, the fleet seemed to shrink as visibility plummeted. Only her two sisters-in-arms were visible as dark, indistinct splotches, the rest of her comrades flickering in and out on her primitive radar. She'd been blinded with no course of action but to trust in her divisionmates.
A potentially catastrophic setback, but one they'd planned for. With the exception of herself and a handful of other standards, the majority of the ships in the strike force enjoyed late-war radars and fire control systems. They had served them well at Surigao Strait, apparently, and they should serve them well here.
She gritted her teeth, main guns itching as she realized they may go unused. Her true purpose wasn't to fight in this part of the battle, but the thought of them sitting idle as her comrades fought and died was galling. If they started firing at her, she'd be practically defenseless… again.
A flicker of light fought its way through the cascade of water, a deep rumble momentarially overcoming the raging squall.
CONTACT BATTLESHIP 345 MOVING 130
By the time the signal- relayed in abbreviated morse through flashing lanterns rather than radio- reached her, the flash had been followed by multiple replies. The battle had been joined, then, with Central's fleet pouring out of the harbor and setting their battle line parallel with Oahu's coastline.
A shame, really. The hope had been to cross the T as their eldritch mirror emerged from the harbor, but either The Spear had fired too soon, or Central had been more prepared for an attack then they'd hoped.
"Battle line, come to 310, line-of-bearing 290."
The radio command from Louisville was sharp, clipped, and almost automatically her rudder snapped to port. The battleship's guns slewed towards the action, her aft turrets unshadowing in the turn as she struggled to find a target.
As the guns of her sister, ahead of her, flashed in anger, the battleship suddenly realized that the rain was thinning. She squinted again as another source of flashes highlighted the storm. Was that an enemy battleship or friendly cruiser? On her old radar, she could only make out the bulk of Oahu.
…There, a beacon of fire reached her rangefinders in defiance of the downpour.
12,000 yards. Too far away to be a fellow American, but well with the reach of her 14-inch guns. They rose with thunks as her crew served her desired number of charges, stopping at the angle she'd calculated.
For the first time, her main battery spoke in anger. A wave of pressure buffeted her as a relieving shock reverberated through her hull, spent powder swirling around the battleship as the oppressive pressure of the squall was momentarily forgotten.
The six shells soared towards their target, where they'd probably missed. A series of flashes buffeted the distant abyssal, but they were half a minute too early to be her shells. With the thinning rain, she was starting to make out a ghostly shadow of a battleship, but the splashes from shell-fall remained hidden by the supernatural downpour.
With little noise beyond the rumble of guns around her, her rifles lowered to reload. The battleship had known Naval combat was a slow, grinding thing, and the poor visibility was definitely extending it, but now that she was actually experiencing it….
As the two lines of battleships ground against each other, the abyssals shifted their fire from the battleships ahead of her towards her division, near the end of the line. Her target, now one dark silhouette among many, disappeared for a moment as incoming fire kicked up geysers of spray in between them. Aft of her, abyssal shells found their mark in Nevada, the tearing of metal and angry explosions almost drowning out the cascade of dark, enthusiastic laughter that drifted through the torrent
The war with Japan had changed every one of the standards she knew, but she didn't know what disturbed her more: her sister's overbearing protectiveness, or the deep something that had gone wrong in her friend.
She wasn't spared from the incoming fire, either. The first sign that the battleship had that the enemy had found their range came in the form of sudden pain. The sting of shells shattering against her belt was forgotten as a luckier shell landed just above her secondaries, burrowing through her superstructure to detonate against her deck armor.
For an instant, pain dominated the battleship's senses. Bulkheads crumpled, breakers tripped, and sailors disappeared in a wave of fire and shrapnel, but she continued to float.
As her guns fired in reply and she finally deciphered the bloom of splashes amongst the thinning rain, she felt…
In the distance, someone else's fire sparked a flash that illuminated the Ru-class battleship, the glimmer suddenly growing into a geyser of fire as a dark something was tossed into the air. As another malevolent volley of shells arrived, causing pain to flare and fade as her belt did its duty.
This… it wasn't joy, and it wasn't anything approaching Nevada's insane ecstasy, but it was significantly more pleasant then the terror and anger that had dominated her last engagement. It was… purpose. After being cut down so swiftly in the last war, she'd been eager to finally prove herself. The legacy she'd worked so hard to cultivate had been rightfully forgotten by her failure, and her return had been a chance to give the state that she'd been named in honor of, and the submarine that would be taking the title, something to be proud of…
…but for almost a year, she hadn't gotten the chance. Ever since she'd been summoned, Big Navy had been treating her like she'd been made of porcelain, instead of steel. She'd been locked in San Diego, her sorties to train with her comrades kept a close secret, and only executed when command knew the waters were the safest.
It had been… aggravating. Patronizing. Her sister she could understand, but everyone- from the lowest enlisted that knew she existed to the highest admiral, seemed terrified of giving her a chance, until now.
As several of her shells found her target, the abyssal battleship belched a column of steam and smoke into the rain, falling out of formation as some of her propulsion died. The other five ships, perhaps realizing their course had taken them too far away from their princess, broke their formation, each individually turning to match the course of the American battleline.
A mistake. The abyssals had been fighting for months, but little of it had been at sea. Was the decision by the enemy commander a product of inexperience, or was it borne from grinding mental attrition brought about from stress, fatigue, and panic?
Maybe it was because of the battleship's own inexperience, but watching them blunder so badly felt… uncanny. It didn't seem to fit her image of the enemy. A cold, calculating, unfeeling foe shouldn't fall apart like this.
Whatever it was, the result was the same: through no action of their own, they'd crossed the T of the Central Princess's battleline.
The fire on the battleship slackened as half of the abyssals' guns were shadowed, her own attention turning towards another target as the fires on her first seemed to engulf her superstructure. Only two flashes marked the new target's reply.
By the time the enemy fleet completed its turn, their number had dropped by two more, one splitting the rain with a devastating explosion, while the other seemed to slump into a silent, resigned capsizing.
All, while their own damage seemed minimal, and the guns ashore remained silent. Maybe The Spear had proved to be more than some fantastical prototype, and they'd make it into the harbor relatively-
"Idaho, torpedoes in the water!"
She didn't recognize the voice that shouted over the radio, but it sent a wave of ice down her keel anyways.
"Division Two, Division Four, evasive maneuvers." Over the radio, Louisville's voice remained as calm, cold, as it had been with every order she'd given. "Form up behind Division One after."
Slowly- too slowly- the battle line ahead of division one dissolved as the battleship's lookouts scoured the thinning rain. Fear gripped her as her secondaries leveled at a nearby shape in the storm, but she still retained enough sense not to fire. That was an American destroyer, wasn't it? Part of her screen? Both the fleets had very similar-looking hull forms, and in these conditions all she could really make out was rough silhouettes.
She'd been certain their screening destroyers and cruisers would be sufficient to prevent a torpedo attack, but nobody had predicted just how bad the storm would get after The Spear Fired. Now, she was ordered to maintain her course while the two divisions in front of her scrambled away from an enemy- or enemies, it didn't seem like anyone was sure- that had snuck through the identical-looking screen and might still have torpedoes.
As she'd feared, the slow, sturdy standards in front of her didn't have a hope of dodging the surprise spread of torpedoes. As the rain lit with escorts in front of her trading fire, one of her distant allies disappeared in a plume of fire and steam. There was a pause of horrified silence, before the shockwave finally met her. She didn't know who just died, but…
"That's five, six hits below the waterline." Idaho's stressed voice gasped over the radio. "Ladies, it's- it's been a pleasure."
This… was the battleship's first time sinking, wasn't it? Hopefully the standard could recover, but with six hits to her torpedo bulges, she wasn't hopeful. She couldn't remember her own that well, but she knew that was an exception. She shook her head, forcing herself to focus on the remaining battleships. She'd have to trust in her fleetmates to resolve whatever catastrophe was unfolding ahead of her.
Ignoring her evading allies, the battle was three against three, now. Her main battery continued to fire, their thunder fading into the cacophony of noise that muffled even The Spear's deep rumbling.
By now, the squall's fury had lightened to the point where she could see the island the monsters were… 'defending.' She hardly recognized the city behind her enemy, which had been built up to an awe-inspiring degree, but the wonder she should have felt was lost among how dead the husks of civilization seemed. Oahu's peaks were nothing but dark shapes, but she could still catch glimpses of once-lush jungle, muddy scars marring the foliage as a testament to the damage from relentless weather and war.
She diverted her attention to her target for long enough to observe her shells bracket one of the surviving enemy standards, before firing again and looking back to shore.
There, closest to the dark ocean, were the ruins of the international airport. The Spear's work was obvious, even with the weather and the distance. The eight-inch shells had left oversized gouges in the tarmac, and of the three gigantic, malformed guns she'd been briefed on, she could only spot two. One was clearly out of commission, it's massive sixteen-inch rifles frozen at a target much further out then the attacking fleet, while the other-
Light abruptly illuminated the airport, the eldritch turret briefly obscured in a trio of flashes. The battleship briefly thought she'd witnessed The Spear complete its duty, before the horrifying truth caught up with her.
The rain wasn't clearing because they were winning. The rain was clearing so that thing could find a target!
She didn't witness the fall of the massive shore battery's shells, but the next radio transmission gave her a pretty good hint.
"Pennsylvania, take command."
Louisville's final command was related with the same, professional stoicism as all her others. She'd been so expressive during the briefing…
Nobody reported the cruiser's sinking. Her death, along with Idaho's and that of many other ships in their task force, would be tallied up after the battle, once her mission of reaching Central failed or succeeded. The battleship knew the cruiser's fate had been decided when the shore battery shifted away from its target, the installation's massive turret shifting to a new target… herself.
She'd read the intelligence reports. ONI was fairly sure the barrels the battleship was staring down were 16-inch, fifty-caliber rifles, the same as those on the stranded Missouri. At this range, those superheavy shells wouldn't care much about her armor. Without the waves to destabilize them and provide a much smaller target than the battleship they were aimed at, there was no doubt who would win in a battle. The fleet had enough ships to overwhelm the single shore gun, but it would certainly take her into oblivion with it.
…and if she sank, the operation went with her.
As if the weather had shifted again, a wave of serenity washed over the battleship. So many of her comrades had already accepted death. She'd died before. If USS Arizona was fated to die here as well, then so be it.
- - -
Ford Island
HI, 15 Nov 2022
She'd been touring her defenses, trying to ignore dreams of suffocating in damp, steely tombs and visions of burning, bloody water, when she was suddenly confronted by a sharp, stabbing sensation of pain.
Something had hit her. She'd gotten no report from her patrolling ships, no warning from her lookouts, and no call at all from her ships on patrol. Was it an air attack? Surface raiders? It was much too large to be land-bound artillery from the invaders on the island.
Before she could make out what happened, another jolt of excruciating pain interrupted her thoughts. With a jarring suddenness, her radar gun director died, the installation's vision shrinking just as a blanket of rain descended, hiding the sea from her gun's directors.
Her shore battery, her best hope of fending off The Invader's seaborne onslaught, had just been blinded. Something was out there, and she could no longer take it out alone.
The installation scrambled away from the gun position she'd been inspecting, bursting into the building she knew the majority of the fleet was anchored. The buildings were starting to succumb to enemy attacks and the relentless weather, strings of droplets pouring from slumping roofs, but the ability to conceal her ships under some sort of coverage had been a blessing she'd been thankful for many times. As she burst through the door of the old hangar they were using, however, such thoughts were far from her mind.
As the door shattered and a flight of splinters scattered across the old hangar, dozens of glowing rangefinders snapped to Central. Her fleet, or most of it.
"They're attacking from the-e sea!" She shouted, voice cracking in pain as she felt the strange gun hammer another crater into her flesh. "Sortie to meet them!"
The ships initially didn't respond, mouths gaping like drowning fish as they stared at her.
"Go!" She shouted, lunging forward to grab a Ru-class by the shoulder and shoving the battleship towards the door. "I'll brief you over the radio, there's no time!"
Finally, her fleet broke into motion, ships shoving their way past each other as they hurried for the shore.
"You too." The princess pointed at a couple lingering Wa-Class transports, waving them out of the building. If they stuck to the coasts and the fleet lingered a little to ensure they weren't outrun, they might have a chance of drawing the enemy fire away from her more important ships. The loss of the Was would exacerbate the problem she had with the invaders at land…
…but something was telling her that if she didn't put everything into this battle, everything would be lost.
On her way to her frequently-shelled repair yards, the mysterious weapon struck again. This time, the punch landed just under one of her turrets, the pain flaring into an excruciating flash. The installation stumbled as she felt fire and pressure, the sensation of the coastal gun's crew evaporating adding to the sensation of earth and steel being torn apart. When the pain faded to a dull ache, all that was left of the turret was an uncanny, dull numbness.
An ammunition detonation.
The shell, whatever the hell it was, had effortlessly dug through the barbet and scattered sparks among the charges in the bunker below the gun. The Princess had thought she'd set them plenty deep to protect them from shellfire, but ground conditions hadn't been particularly suited for extensive bunker systems, and the constant mortar attacks from the city kept delaying their construction. As a result, they'd gone in shallower then she'd initially planned, which was something she was paying for now.
Central suddenly realized she was on the ground, the intense pain having momentarily overwhelmed her. She didn't have the time to waste on the ground, so she stumbled to her feet, making the rest of the way towards the fleet's repair yard.
Of the eight drydocks Central had hidden inside the old ammunition bunker, three were in use. The Ru-Class Battleship Defender, who'd limped out of the jungle a few days ago after their failed attempt to push up the highway, and a pair of I-Class destroyers, the two repairing relatively minor damage from an artillery strike a few days back.
The two I-classes shot up at her entry, dark water sloshing out of their respective baths as they shifted, but the battleship barely moved, eyes drowsily flicking to the installation.
"Get up." She growled, ignoring the battleship's wince as Central's talloned hand grabbed the Ru-class's dark hair and hauled her out of the bath. "We're under attack."
"Eergh." The battleship groaned, but her glowing eyes widened as they met Central's. "Er- Yes, Princess!"
The scars on her naked form were clearly visible as she limped out of the bunker, the two destroyers following behind. Their impaired mobility wouldn't make them too useful, but…
"Six, fourteen, stay."
The two Is froze, allowing the damaged battleship to limp away.
"You two can't make full speed, correct?"
Fourteen looked to her sister, nodding weakly.
"Find somewhere to hide in the southeast shore of the harbor." She commanded, her doubts forming into a backup plan. "If all else fails, I'll need your torpedoes here."
With that, the princess had nothing else to do. As she watched her fleet disappear into the rain and the unknown gun continued to tear at her helpless coastal battery, The Princess started to pace. With this cursed storm, she couldn't even see her fleet, let alone the invaders', so after an exhaustive explanation of what she knew, the Installation had no choice but to wait.
The bombardment continued, shifting to her next sixteen-inch gun, but its eerie accuracy seemed to be waning. The installation grit her teeth as a shell penetrated another turret, jamming it as it expended itself inside the gun's drive train. It was dead now, but the enemy didn't seem to know that. It continued to hammer away at the defunct turret, while the installation remained free to use the last turret unmolested.
…Now, if only she could actually see the enemy! With her battery's radar gun director out, Central had no choice but to watch the wall of rain, and hope.
It might have been the abyssal imagining things, but the mysterious attacks were starting to feel more… random. Inaccurate. They now only occasionally struck the damaged turret, effortlessly penetrating chitinous armor and filling the interior with sparks and spall, but failing to cause the catastrophic detonation the first turret suffered. The abyssal was starting to speculate the loss of the turret had been due to a mistake in construction, rather than the power of the weapon.
The diminishing effectiveness of the mysterious weapon only reinforced her belief that something worse was coming. The invader was many things… but not stupid. They wouldn't reveal this- this threat, without a plan to capitalize on it.
As if summoned by her thoughts, a distant, muffled flash cut through the torrent. Before the time the sound of rolling thunder reached her closest observer, several more had joined it. Soon the permanent storm that tormented her had been transformed into a strobing blanket of fire and thunder. It was simultaneously not enough and too much for her surviving gun crew to handle, so all the princess could do was wait, talons nervously running down the glowing cracks in her arms as the cries from her fleet drifted in from the radio.
"Six- no, ten enemy battleships!"
"I'm bracketed! Should we evade?"
"Stay on course. All destroyers, see if you can use the rain to cover a torpedo run."
Another strange shell landed home, landing among an anti aircraft emplacement and blotting out its crew. The strange gun's accuracy had dropped to the point where Central could no longer determine its target. Had its barrel degraded that quickly, or had they started using lower-quality ammunition? Either way, the Princess tried to ignore the directionless stabs of pain, focusing on the battle before her.
Slowly, but steadily, the rain was starting to clear. The abyssal could make out the forms of her nearby fleet through the storm, and didn't like what she was seeing.
Fires danced across each and every one of her precious battleships, her only real line of defense rapidly degrading under the fire of the enemy's onslaught. In an unfortunate repeat of Central's own experience, Sentry's number 2 magazine detonated, a jet of flame sending the affected turret into the sky. Waves were already splashing over Defender's deck, the Ru-class firing in defiance even as the ocean slowly claimed her.
This… was it. Her fleet was going to die here, leaving her relatively defenseless as they advanced on her, by land and sea. It had taken them almost a year of grinding away at her, but…
With the gripping finality, the abyssal felt an odd sort of peace descend upon her. She'd thought of this life as a second chance, but every moment of it had been a torturous hell. She didn't know how she could be killed, but the invaders must have figured out a way.
It would all be over, soon. Until then…
A massive explosion ripped through the storm, its source too distant to be one of her own ships. Central didn't know the cause behind the detonation, but it didn't matter: her fleet was making the invaders pay for their lives, and she'd be damned if she didn't do the same.
The storm had cleared enough that several of them were visible, now. Many appeared to be destroyers: small, agile, and fragile enough that the more conventional artillery she used to beat back the invaders on the ground could dispatch them. Instead, her last sixteen-inch battery settled on a slightly larger form.
Finally able to fulfill its purpose, the coastal battery's guns elevated, its crews slamming the calculated number of charges behind the superheavy HC shells waiting in the gun's breaches. With a defiant roar, the guns fired.
As if it had been attacking the storm itself, the rain lightened even further, giving Central her first good look at her target: a heavy cruiser, the hostile ship heeling away as geisers sprouted a few hundred yards behind it. It didn't help her, of course. The bombed-out airfield provided a more stable platform than any battleship could, and it only took a handful of additional shots before the heavy cruiser took a hit near the stern, drifting to a hard stop. Shells from the rest of the invaders started landing around her surviving turret, but they failed to prevent another hit from sending her sliding under the waves.
One down. Focusing on her dark work, Central directed her turret crew to load armor piercing rounds, pivoting the gun's rangefinders to focus on the next target.
The weather had cleared enough that Central enjoyed a clear view of her next assailant. She was a standard battleship design, four triple turrets flanking a superstructure dominated by a pair of cage masts. Her silhouette was muted, somewhat, by her dark blue coloring, but when the waves hit her just right, Central could see a dark, deep red highlighting her turret's roofs.
Red turret roofs…
Something in the back of Central's mind twisted as she sized up the battleship. Was this some kind of trick? A cruel disguise to further the installation's torment? The abyssal's concentration broke as she turned her attention to a lookout on her island, confirming that the desecrated burial site that had once been her was still there, before the vision from the last coastal defense gun returned to her.
How dare they!
It was obscene! She hadn't had the imagination to think of the depths of depravity the enemy had sunk to, in wearing the skins of the dead she'd fought so hard to honor, to protect, to-
To remember.
She wanted to scream, to force the damaged turret to rotate towards the vile doppelganger so she could better blot out this newest atrocity, yet…
No matter how much her horror demanded she fire, a subtle undertow of doubt stayed her hand. Central had been given new life, why not her? Was she unhappy with her treatment? Joining the invaders to get revenge for failing to protect her?
A shell struck her turret's roof, gouging its armor and stunning its crew. Several other invaders must have found their range as well, as another hit destroyed a viewing port for the gun's local rangefinder.
Their plan, damn them, had worked. Central fired, but after the shells went long, she wasn't able to get another shot off before a volley of 16-inch shells sealed the fate of her last coastal gun.
The Central Princess had nothing to do but watch as the rest of her fleet was exterminated, the thunder of guns beating her last hope into the sea. She didn't spare them too much grief, considering she'd be joining them shortly.
As the invader's battle line slowly reformed and they started into the harbor, central stood, feet tracing a weary path towards the south of her island. She would die, but she would die with answers, and hiding in a dugout while they fell upon her would get none.
Nothing was adding up. The invader had used aircraft as their preferred tool of torment, but ever since she'd been given new life enemy aircraft had been incredibly scarce. She had thought they'd been deterred by the defenses she'd constructed, but now they were attacking her with standard battleships.
A lance of pain, unrelated to the damage the invader's guns had inflicted on her, penetrated the Central Princess's mind. She groaned, clutching her head as she tried to make sense of her fragmented memory. The first attack… their bombs had dropped from brilliant white and green aircraft, blots of bloody crimson decorating their wings. Some of the aircraft in the second assault had been white, but upon further recollection…
She allowed her taloned hand to fall from her face, observing the ash-white skin and the crimson, otherworldly glow imitating from deep cracks that spread from her wrists and down her arms.
…no, that thought was ridiculous. With intense effort, the installation purged it from her mind, continuing her walk towards the waterfront.
Just now, the bow of the first of the invader's ships was making itself known. The abyssal watched as two triple guns were unshadowed, their barrels dark, gaping maws as they remained trained directly upon her. A battery of five-inch-38s bristled from her port and starboard, dozens of guns angled at either shore.
At the same time, she saw a woman atop the waves, her eyes fires that promised brutal punishment if the warning in them wasn't heeded. At this range, it was clear there was no disguise here: this was The Tomb's sister, the one whose screams had turned from pain to anger the quickest.
A name suddenly broke into Central's thoughts: Pennsylvania.
Behind her was the largest surprise: The Tomb herself, reborn in all the splendor Central remembered. The iconic cage masts, the three crimson turret roofs, the perfectly maintained decking…
…and the deep, charred gashes where shells- her fleet's shells- had tried to end her.
"...why?"
The word fell from her lips, an unnoticed whisper. Why was she- all of the standards, it seemed- working for the invaders? Why had they been attacking her? Why weren't they attacking her now? Now that Central was defenseless…
The abyssal's confusion was forgotten as something stole the battleships' attention, fire rippling across their starboard side as one of them pointed eastwards, towards the shipyard. Central followed their attention, where her confusion transformed into horror.
Six and Fourteen had revealed themselves, their animistic rigging encasing their bodies as they dove into the bay. Spray sprouted around the destroyers' sterns as they accelerated, their hullforms forming around them as they sprinted towards the battleships.
"No, wait!"
Central wasn't sure if she was ordering the two destroyers to call off their obvious torpedo run, or pleading with the battleships to avoid killing the last remnant of her fleet. They didn't have to fight, right?
She could already see that the order had come too late. Torpedoes lept from the destroyers' decks before some of the battleship's shells started striking home. The last two ships in her fleet quickly fell apart, but it was too late to matter. Once again, torpedoes were running through her waters, towards her battleships, but now…
It was her fault. As Pennsylvania crawled into a futile attempt at a failed maneuver, Central could do nothing but meet the battleship's gaze. Even as they struck home, engulfing her bow in jets of spray and dropping her speed, even as oil started to leak into the water and the normally peaceful waters of Pearl Harbor started encroaching on her deck, and even as her second form fell, her rangefinders remained locked squarely on her.
The intensity… The Installation couldn't look away from them. It wasn't the cutting hatred, the unflinching steadiness, but the promise. If Central didn't do… something, then Pennsylvania would return.
She just didn't know what that something was! They- they both fought for the same cause, correct? She hadn't known they were alive, but they would have been free to come and go before the attack, right?
She finally broke that gaze, shaking her head as she forced herself to focus. They hadn't been the same invaders who'd desecrated the tomb. That they'd commit such an atrocity… it was unthinkable. Who had attacked her, then? What had shattered the peace on this island?
After a herculean effort, more scattered memories returned to her. Her soul seemed to tear as she delved into them, but she bore the pain, determined to straighten the contradictions that were tearing her apart. Images of fire, oil, and blood filled her memories, but others joined them.
White skin. Dark metal. Glowing eyes.
The Central Princess opened her eyes again- her glowing eyes- and looked upon the approaching line of battleships. The Tomb, now the leader of the massive column, had stepped upon the shore, the massive guns that encased her fading into mist as she approached her, unarmed.
The Central Princess didn't know when she'd fallen to her knees, but she had to look up to meet the battleship's gaze. Visually, they were very similar to her sisters, but what the abyssal saw when she stared into those rangefinders were completely different. Despite the comrades she'd killed, the city she'd scarred, and the devastation her fleet had caused, Central found no hint of malice in the battleship's visage. The Tomb looked upon her, her eyes pools of pity, empathy, and understanding.
Understanding.
A question tumbled from the installation's lips, a whisper audible to only her.
"What am I?"
"You're ill." The battleship replied. It wasn't a real reply, but as a hand reached around her shoulder and the installation was pulled into the battleship's embrace, she found it impossible to summon the energy to protest. "Just rest for now. Everything will make sense tomorrow…"
It was so warm…
The Central Princess closed her eyes, allowing herself to melt into The Tomb's soft embrace. For a moment, she could forget the pain that she had suffered, the horrible scarring that had been inflicted upon the island, the questions of what she was, and the slowly dawning horror as she started to comprehend what, exactly, she'd done…
…and in that moment, an intense glow overcame her, and The Central Princess ceased to exist.
Poor Central.
You did a good job showing in what way her mind has been messed with.
Oh and before anyone says anything, no, Central is not Arizona OR Missouri.
Like nearly every other installation in KC, she is the location, and this seems to be the same in this fic.
Central is Pearl, Seaport is Darwin, Airfield is Henderson, Northern Ocean is Dutch, and Isolated Island is Wake.
Katie had been in her hotel room, enjoying the provided breakfast, when the tracker had started to move. Eager to see what the abyssal liked to do Sunday mornings, she'd scrambled into her vehicle, following the tracker… to a church's parking lot.
That made sense, she guessed. Both halves of the Martin-Campos family originated from Texas, so the idea that they'd be willing to waste a few hours every week wasn't that far-fetched. The real question was if they'd managed to drag The Abyssal in. Katie wasn't sure if that was a good idea or a bad one–demons might exist, but she doubted God did, so the prospect of the monster bursting into flames or something the moment she stepped in was pretty low. However, the abyssal might object to the prospect of having to sit down and listen to a human prattle on for two to four hours, and if she actually started listening to him, Katie wasn't certain that would be much better.
The PI didn't bother going in to look for her. She would stick out like a goat among sheep in a church, so obviously the PI stayed in her car until people started trickling out of the building. There was Paloma, Mitchell, and Alex… but no Wo-class.
If she wasn't here, what was she doing, then? This was a perfect opportunity for the abyssal to drop the facade and execute any schemes she wouldn't be able to hide easily. Katie already had all the proof she needed to demonstrate the undercover Wo's true nature, but if she could document anything more… dramatic, it would make a wonderfully enlightening section in her report.
While the tracker stalled at a local restaurant, Katie hurriedly scoped out the Martin-Campos household. No abyssal, as far as she could tell. She waited. Hours passed. The Martin-Campos's little shitbox arrived and dispensed their idyllic family into their home. Still no abyssal. The monster didn't show itself until half-past three, shuffling down the street and disappearing into the household. The purpose of the excursion would remain a mystery, until next week. She didn't want to delay her report that long, but…
Thanksgiving was next week. Several of Brad's staff would be on leave, and hopefully Brad himself. Forcing him to cancel his plans would be cruel, but he couldn't be angry with her: Katie had found the abyssal, after all.
The next morning, the PI got up early, parking her vehicle in its now-familiar snooping spot and waiting. She'd gotten an incomplete glimpse of the abyssal's weekend routine, but for the rest of the week…
In the pre-dawn glow of streetlights, a figure emerged from the household: Alex, his form bulging with a bulky coat and backpack, wheeling a bike into the road. The PI watched the suspect with limited interest as he left: she already knew from Paloma Martin-Campos's Facebook page that Alex went to the local community college. When she already knew a good amount about Trinitite, she might investigate that lead, but for now she would ignore it. Next, the father of the family appeared. Mitchell Martin-Campos briskly made his way to the newest of the three vehicles, the car quickly vanishing around a corner. She had a tracker on the two that Trinitite wasn't using as a mobile home, but she ignored that one as well.
It wasn't until after ten when the abyssal finally made her appearance. With her dark slacks and shirt, she looked a lot more like an abyssal than she had over the weekend. That dyed-black hair conjured up the image of a… Ru-class, if she was remembering her sea monsters correctly.
Anyways, with the benefit of foreknowledge, it was blindingly obvious that Trinitite was an abyssal. It was no wonder that construction workers had started suspecting her. Given her height and unnatural figure, she'd been easy to pick out from a crowd on Saturday, and given her attire it seemed she'd be just as easy to follow today. If the public knew she existed, the lone Wo probably would have been found several times now, but she'd managed to find refuge in the audacity of an abyssal not killing people.
Katie kept her distance as she followed the monster, still unsure of the possibility of heightened senses. The monster didn't seem to notice her, but she did appear alert. As she trudged out of the neighborhood, her head remained up, flicking to and fro in an obvious display of weariness. Had she caught onto anything, or was this normal paranoia? She hadn't acted like this on the date. Had that been part of the act, or was the little loverboy actually winning her over?
Trinitite's destination revealed itself in the form of a fast food restaurant, the Jack-In-The-Box lurking at an exit off of I-5. Katie intended to ensure the taxpayer got the most out of her report, but she didn't intend to be so thorough as to include the abyssal's preferences in grease and plastic, so she waited a few parking lots over for the abyssal to emerge.
Ten minutes passed. Thirty. After an hour had elapsed, the detective was starting to reassess her plan. Had the abyssal slipped out of the back to lose her tail, or did she actually work here? There was only one way for her to find out.
Sure enough, as she parked a little closer and pushed through the glass entrance, she found that the abyssal was waiting for her.
Despite the distance between the door and the counter, the carrier's imposing height was impossible to ignore, the monster clearly looking down on her. Teeth that seemed a little too sharp revealed themselves as a grin touched the creature's visage.
"Welcome to Jack in the Box, can I take your order?"
Katie knew had many shortcomings, but acting was not one of them. She battled the terror running through her veins, nonchalantly biting her lip as she cast her gaze to the menu screens behind her.
"Er… not yet."
"Whenever you're ready, Ma'am."
She paused, feigning indecision as she fought to bring her heart rate under control. She'd considered the possibility, but hadn't been mentally prepared for it. As the lizard part of her slowly started to calm down, the wheels in the PI's brain started to turn again.
So… Trinitite had found her new job as a burger fool, hanging out with idiot teenagers and high-school dropouts. If she was capable of developing a faith in humanity, it wouldn't be here. Of course, the Feds would be very interested in confirming that, but the more people got involved, the easier it would be for the abyssal to notice someone.
As she looked back down at the disguised monster, she had to suppress a smile. Coworkers, relationships, finances… by the time Brad and his goons learned of Trinitite, they'd have all the information they'd ever want.
- - -
"Number four!"
Trinitite left the tray on the counter, trading smiles with the customer as the human grabbed it and left for a table. The abyssal shook the feeling that the customer was familiar–hundreds of humans cycled through Jack in the Box territory, after all–and turned her attention back to her coworker.
"So…" Laura gushed, enthusiasm filling the smaller girl's voice. "How was the food there?"
"It was great!" Trinitite reported. The Wo-class wasn't entirely sure why the human had such intense interest in the date she'd had, but her enthusiasm was infectious, and sharing details was a great way to make the shift move faster. "Ever had Ahi tuna?"
"Not since the war, but yeah." She nodded, lowering her voice as she leaned away from the counter she was cleaning. "He's really trying to woo you, if he's paid for that."
The abyssal shook her head. "It's no big deal. I'm paying him back next week."
"Oh, really?" She giggled. "You didn't after the movie?"
The Carrier's brow furrowed, puzzling over the question as she took another order. After the newcomer was served, and the Wo-class still hadn't determined what her coworker had meant, she addressed her again.
"What do you mean by that?" She asked. "I couldn't buy him dinner after he'd just had one, could I?"
"Sarah, you're too precious." Laura smirked.
"That didn't answer the question."
"When you're older." The human deflected.
"When will I be older?" The abyssal pressed. "I'm older than you, aren't I?"
It had taken a lot of research to try and determine a 'human age' for her disguise, but it was thankfully working out. Somewhat.
"Physically, yeah." she dismissed, wadding up the wipe she'd been using it and tossing it towards the trash can. "Look, I can't talk about it at work."
"Oh." The Wo-class acknowledged, before realization accompanied a half-formed- but surprisingly vivid- image. "Ohh! Why would he want me to have a child, though?"
"No, it's not just-" Her coworker protested, before her face suddenly blanked and she murmured, "Er… customer."
Trinitite turned, practiced a smile already readied as she met the newcomer.
"Hello, welcome to Jack in the Box!"
The man smiled back at her, glancing up at the menu as he approached the counter.
"Good morning!" He chirped. "I'll take eight number sixes, please."
She wasn't supposed to question orders, but as her hand hovered over the register, the question tumbled out anyways.
"...Eight?"
"Yeah, I lost a bet." He admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "Gotta buy lunch for everyone at work."
"Tough." She commented, watching the price climb as she imputed the order into the register. 'Lost a bet' could mean many things, but the human didn't seem too sunk because of it. "Eight jumbo jack cheeseburger… combos?" He nodded. "What do you want for drinks?"
The customer looked up at the menu, filling the time with a contemplative sigh before his rangefinders snapped to hers, a goofy smile plastered across his lips.
"Get a large shake for all of them, too. We're celebrating!"
"Celebrating?"
"Of course!" The human beamed. "We just got Hawaii back!"
"What?"
Laura's exclamation was fortunate, because the abyssal hadn't known how to respond.
"I didn't think it could happen either, but it's all over the news!" The customer babbled. "Satellite shows the storm disappearing and everything!"
"No way…" her coworker mumbled, whipping her phone out to check despite company policy. "How'd they manage that? I thought everyone said it was impossible!"
"Well, the Navy must have figured something out." The abyssal commented, remembering the perplexing flash of light that had accompanied her mother's transformation. Had any abyssal of the Central Fleet survived long enough to witness something similar? Come to think of it, there were still plenty of humans on Hawaii who didn't follow The Navy. Could they have noticed something?
"It's a damn good thing they did," he chuckled, "even if it costs me a hundred dollars."
"Er- right." Trinitie checked the register. "It'll actually be one-forty seven, forty-eight."
"Holy shit, you're right!" The abyssal looked back to see Laura looking at her phone, disbelief and joy spreading across her face. Looking back at the kitchen, she shouted. "Hey! Eight Number Sixes, and The Navy just took back Hawaii!"
"Jesus, What?" Alex shouted back, laughing. "Hell yeah!"
At her friend's exclamation, she felt a sliver of a smile creeping onto her face. Realizing where she was, she forced it open, accepting the customer's card and giving it a swipe. She tried to hold it as she returned his card and gave him his receipt, but…
"Don't get too excited, Sarah."
She didn't know Laura that well, but her coworker clearly noticed her smile fading. How could she keep it up, when it felt so bitter? Another fleet had just been smashed, their hulls shattered and their princess… changed. She didn't know anyone in the Central Fleet, but some of her old fleetmates could have been resummoned to them. How could she smile about that?
Yet, she had.
"I just… find it hard to believe." The abyssal defended. "If it's true, it'll be amazing, though. Hawaii isn't my home, but I met a lot of people from the state who'd be happy to move back, now that the abyssals are gone."
Another lie. Alton had decided to retreat from Hawaii before the abyssal coalition made their climactic assault, and she he would go back now that the shooting had stopped. However, his parents still lived on the largest of the islands, and learning how much safer they were was no-doubt welcome news. Besides the human she personally knew, there had to be hundreds of others whose life had no-doubt improved. In other princess's territories, they'd been warned of humans lurking in the dead cities or dense jungles, spying on them from a distance and ready to ambush any abyssal who went exploring alone. Now that she was in a… comparable situation… she realized how terrifying it must be for those survivors. Someone no longer had to hide, to struggle for resources, and to fear daily for their survival. That alone was pretty comforting.
"I don't know, the islands are still pretty exposed."
"Ehh, not really?" Trinitite tempered. "It'll be a while before the abyssal fleets there can muster a counterattack."
"Besides, it's justice!" The customer chimed in.
"That's true." Trinitite limply agreed, before nodding to another customer who'd entered. "Can I take your order?"
Justice… it didn't feel like an accurate term for what had happened. She didn't know the Central Princess, and perhaps justice had been served for what she'd done on Oahu, but she hadn't caused its fall in the first place. That had been the combined efforts of multiple fleets including the crossroads fleet. Trinitite herself shared some blame in that–she hadn't attacked directly, but she'd shot down aircraft, sunk submarines, and brought invaluable supplies to those who did bring about Hawaii's fall.
As she started collecting all the hamburgers, fries, and shakes into one order, Trinitite finally recognized the feeling that had been troubling her so much–guilt. Now, was it over what she'd done to help cause the fall of Hawaii, or over the fact that a human victory–a victory by the very fleet that had slaughtered her family–felt like good news?
At least no other abyssal was going to be threatening Washington any time soon.
Another Chapter's done! Sorry it took so long, while I could blame it on training wrapping up a lot of the delay was just getting distracted by video games (Too many different ones to call out), but I hope it was worth it!
Not entirely happy with how this chapter came out, even though it was a character moment I've been wanting to write for a long time. Still, the arc is starting to wrap up, and I want finish it before I deploy in a few months and will be too busy to write (much). I didn't want to spend too much time obsessing over making it perfect, I'm releasing it now. Hopefully it's still enjoyable!
