Sole Purpose
Clueless
- Location
- Spread Across Several Miles
All Wo-rk and No Play: An Abyssal's Trials in the Job Market (KC)
- Thread starter PyrrhicSteel
- Start date
jesus
Arasaka VTuber PsyOps
Poor Trinite. Also
should be wariness
- Location
- America
Oh no.
Katie is gonna get the raid together only for a goddamn Re with a steel chair to come in and fuck up everything.
…either that or Turkey makes a visit to the states or something, and that thing I said here:
Actually did happen, and she gets jumped by aforementioned BB.
….yeah I'm reaching with this one.
Look, shits gonna go tits up and some rando Abby is obviously gonna pop up on the mainland and cause a gigantic shitshow to occur. I'm just getting the one of the nuttier theories out of the way first.
- Location
- America
Bro.
Bro.
Calm TF down.
I know Katie's a bitch, but jeebus man, you're taking this a bit far.
Walk away from the computer, take a couple of deep breaths, and come back when you've calmed down, because you're getting waaaaay too worked up over this.
Annoyed Catholic
Moody fellow
Well.....
I would argue the case but honestly, it has more to do with how Katie has been rubbing me the wrong way ever since having basically started sh*tting on Murrey and the rest of those chasing after Trin.
Yeah, won't do that again.
Poor BB-56
Interlude: Sharing Drinks
PyrrhicSteel
Look natural.
- Location
- Idaho
The Japanese side of Yokosuka was the polar opposite of the American one. While Fleet Activities Yokosuka had been desolate, its walkways sparse and its expansive piers harboring only a handful of steel hulls, JMSDF Yokosuka was bustling with activity. Missile destroyers crowded around the pier, their hulls failing to conceal the massive form of JS Izumo. The humans she'd spoken with were insistent on calling the massive carrier a 'helicopter destroyer,' but for Pete's sake, she was as large as Enterprise!
Despite their respectable number, the steel hulls were dwarfed by their returned counterparts. The couple dozen ships in the Maizuru fleet were relatively easy to keep track of, but Saratoga was pretty certain that level of familiarity would be impossible here. The walkways were congested, with ships and humans, and the building the carrier and her two trainees had been directed to was filled with the low hum of office work.
The carrier sighed, glancing away at the report she'd been reading and up at Hiyou. The light carrier was shifting in her seat, rangefinders locked on the floor as her hands played with the pleating of her crimson skirt. Considering how well she hid it, watching the light carrier be so nervous felt a little odd, but who wouldn't be nervous in a situation like this?
Noticing her gaze, the Japanese carrier looked up at her.
"You did fine." Saratoga reassured her student. She hadn't been allowed to sit in on the oral board Hiyou had just endured, but from what she knew of Akagi and Zuikaku they wouldn't be too harsh on her.
"Did I?" Hiyou asked, eyes wide with worry. "They asked me about the Bonhomme Richard fire and I hardly knew anything!"
"I don't think they were expecting you to know anything about it." Saratoga reassured her. They'd gone over the incident a few weeks ago, but considering the investigation behind the disaster was still underway, they'd been light on details. "You knew where and when, right? That tells them you at least looked at it."
"They're asking about that?" The second carrier, Unryu asked, brushing a strand of her unruly white hair away from her eyes.
"Don't worry about it." Saratoga reassured her. "You know they'll ask you something different."
That didn't seem to reassure her. The two carriers were their best students: to be honest, after Katori's training they probably would have done fine in the battle line, but now that they'd arrived in Yokosuka their confidence was faltering.
"Hey, the point of these isn't to keep you two in training." The American addressed them both. "This…" She lazily waved the report in her hand. "...was the real test, and to me it looks like you both passed."
A few days earlier, the trio had met the two carriers at Mutsu bay, Saratoga observing them as the veterans and the ships of the Ominato District Force placed the two trainees through a series of exercises. Afterwards, Zuikaku and Akagi had typed up the report Saratoga was holding now. The report itself was barebones, a bullet-point summary of mock dogfights, damage control drills, fleet maneuvers and target practice, but Saratoga had liked what she'd read.
She hadn't been allowed to participate in the assessment, but from the exercises she'd put them through, Saratoga was pretty confident they'd done well. They wouldn't be trying to send Hiyou and Unryu out to the rest of the fleet otherwise.
"I know…" Hiyou acknowledged, but the light carrier only stopped fiddling with her dress for a moment. "I can't explain it. I don't remember feeling this bad before Philippine Sea…"
Maybe that was it. Hiyou hadn't been very experienced, but she had seen the horrors of war. Memories of her sinking may be returning to her, the prospect of going back out there was hanging over this whole process.
Saratoga didn't voice her speculation. It was baseless, considering what she knew of the light carrier, and while it was very understandable most warships would be insulted by the insinuation. Perhaps a distraction would be more constructive…
"So… tonight, after you've both qualified…" She started, seizing the gaze of both of her students. "...do either of you know Tokyo very well?"
"Eh…" The light carrier leaned back, rangefinders drifting to the ceiling. "I was based here a few months after my summoning, but I didn't get to explore that much."
Saratoga looked over to Unryu, who shrugged.
"I've only been there twice. I know Yokosuka pretty well, but if you want to see the capital…"
"I'd be okay with seeing Yokosuka."
"No, let's see Tokyo." Hiyou insisted. "We can get a train to Ginza and do some exploring."
"We'll ask around, see if anyone's willing to act as a guide." Saratoga suggested.
Her students nodded, but didn't reply. Silence once again descended, but the tension in the room had relaxed. The minutes passed uneventfully. Laughter from a group of sailors working a few rooms down the hall drifted into the room. The ventilation hummed to life, then died. The muffled discussion between the ships on the other side of the door abruptly stopped, and all three ships were staring at the door as it clicked open.
Unryu shot to her feet, her chair scraping against the floor behind her as it shifted. Hiyou's response was more muted, the light carrier stilling as the veterans of the Kido Butai entered the room.
Zuikaku entered first, the green-haired carrier's face unreadable as she held the door open. Akagi entered next, Japan's most famous -or infamous, she supposed- carrier smiling slightly as she nodded to Saratoga.
"How do you feel?" She asked, her gaze settling on Hiyou.
"Not… great." The dark-haired carrier admitted. "When you asked me to compare the bearcat with the seafire-"
"You passed." Zuikaku interjected.
Saratoga's now-former student visibly relaxed, tension draining from the room.
"That's right." Akagi added, the older carrier unphased by her comrade's interjection. "Come on in and we'll talk about what topics you missed. After that, we'll get you, Unryu, then it's all paperwork."
Hiyou stood and followed the veteran carrier in, the worry that had been gnawing at her features absent. Zuikaku held the door for her, giving her a tight smile as they passed, before her rangefinders locked on Saratoga and she jerked her head.
"You want to join, Sara?"
"Of course." The American smiled. "From what I've heard, I think I'll be learning something too."
- - -
Ginza's streets weren't the bustling image of nightlife they'd once been, but there were still enough wandering pedestrians to hide the pair. The two walked in the open, blending into the crowd as another pair of coworkers ready to drink away a long day at work tomorrow.
Of course, that had been the pair's plan, until they'd seen the five women parting the crowd as they passed them. All were perfectly fit and exceptionally tall, their heads sticking slightly above the general bustle of the Tokyo crowd. Abnormal hair colors reflected off of street lights, and even though they were clad in high-quality clothing, not a single purse or bag was visible.
To summarize, they were obvious shipgirls.
"I think they're all carriers." The human, a wispy woman with well-trimmed hair and thick glasses, muttered. "That white hair's Unryu, and Zuikaku is known to do her hair like that."
"I think that one's Akagi." The other one added. "That leaves us with two mysteries."
Yuji and his friend, Hiromi, didn't work at the same office. They'd met in college, bonding over a shared interest in a now-retired idol and continuing their contact since their graduation a few months ago. Perhaps someday, they might take their relationship further, but for now both were focused on their new jobs, and shipgirls.
The five Kami didn't seem particularly attentive, the tiny fleet seemingly oblivious to the stares they were getting from the mortals they were walking among. Despite their quarry's nonchalance, the pair kept their distance, keeping several pedestrians between themselves and the shipgirls. There was no reason to be noticed, after all.
"Long, black hair..." Yuji muttered, hesitating as the small group ducked into an alleyway. "You familiar with that?"
"Doesn't narrow it down much." Hiromi speculated, passing Yuji to press into the alleyway. After a moment's pause, Yuji followed his friend, re-acquiring the shipgirls as they weaved through the crowd. Many sectors of Japan's economy had been hit hard by the war, but Ginza's bars still saw multitudes of workers- or those fresh out of work- seeking the temporary release of alcohol.
The five disappeared into a door nestled deep into the alleyway, a humble sign marking an establishment Yuji wasn't familiar with. They followed them in without hesitation, the soft tones of a saxophone flowing out of the door to greet them.
It shouldn't have been surprising that the shipgirls wanted to spend their night at a jazz club.
The pair were seated immediately, their 'targets' already situated in a booth on the opposite wall. Accepting the menus and giving them a quick scan, the two humans subtly adjusted their chairs so that they both had a view of their saviors.
"I think that might be Hiyou," his friend speculated, glasses peeking over her menu, "but I'm not sure."
"She's in Maizuru, isn't she?"
"Supposedly…" Hiromi agreed. "...but the Americans are supposed to be in Taiwan, and we've got one here."
"Maybe they're moving a lot of ships around due to Hawaii." He supplied.
"That would make sense…"
Between the two of them, they had an almost encyclopedic knowledge of Japan's returned saviors- or the publicly known ones. Ever since Kongou had revealed herself, they'd been immersed in the countries' saviors- spirits of the nation, screaming against the darkness that threatened the very existence of Japan's people. They still knew plenty of foreign ships, but their combined knowledge wasn't nearly as complete. Still, if the new face was truly new…
He pulled out his phone, setting the camera to its maximum optical zoom and setting it on the table in front of him. They didn't plan on talking with the shipgirls, or following them back to their base. Yuji was realistic about his chances with any of the goddesses on the other side of the club, and suspected that marriage with a shipgirl wouldn't be anything like as perfect as it sounded.
He just needed a shot of the foreign carrier's face.
As the waitress arrived and he gave his order, a flicker of guilt lingered in his soul. He accepted it, fostered it: this was wrong, after all, and if the foreign carrier was already public he wouldn't be doing it, but…
Everyone remembered the darkest weeks of 2020. Nations across the south pacific were burning, with the death toll still unknown but easily north of a billion. With Japan's lifeline to middle eastern oil violently severed, food and energy prices were exploding, a vicious death spiral of inflation that was tearing apart Japan's already weak economy. With strategic reserves dwindling and a pandemic still raging, announcements of rolling blackouts couldn't have come at a worse time.
Then, after weeks of narrow victories and fighting retreats, the Reagan was sunk. She'd been cut down in the middle of the night, the monsters using the darkness to ambush her strike group, her allies, and the civilian ships she'd been protecting.
The news came at the worst possible time. She hadn't been the first supercarrier to sink, and wouldn't be the last, but with all of her successes before the people of Japan had placed much of their hopes in the Nimitz class. With the losses the self defense forces had taken along with their allies, it felt like it was only a matter of time before the abyss bounded up the second island chain and Japan was swallowed in darkness.
It had been then, at the nation's lowest point in eighty years, when The Indestructible Diamond appeared. As if by divine intervention, the battleship Kongo appeared, stepping out of the waves to rescue her successor and the ships she'd been guarding. It wasn't a particularly large battle, but Hiromi and Yuji both agreed that it was the most important.
That day, humanity had taken their hope back.
The government didn't seem to understand that shipgirls were more than armor and weapons. Part of what made Kongou so impactful was her confident smile, reassuring demeanor, and immaculate beauty. They had an unmatched ability to fortify the will of people like himself, and world governments' efforts to keep them out of the public's eye was… misguided, at best.
Besides, it wasn't like any abyssals would drive anything useful from the information. Loose consensus among the OSINT community was that, if the monsters had internet access, they would have capitalized on it already.
The new American… wasn't as major to Yuji as something like the return of Kaga would be, but it was still very good news. Morale among his friends on the other side of the pacific had risen sharply with Monday's news of the Central Princess's demise, but the added revelation of another carrier could only help.
As covertly as possible, he raised his phone, angling the camera so the shipgirls were visible in the corner of the shot. It took a few minutes of wrestling with auto-focus, but eventually the carrier's face sharpened, and he took his shot.
"I have the picture." He muttered, after snapping a few more photos of the chatting carrier. Even from this distance, the phone did a great job capturing her soft smile and gentle posture.
"You do?" Hiromi adjusted her glasses as Yuji handed her his phone. "She's beautiful…"
"Of course she is." Yuji stated, leaving 'she's a shipgirl' unstated. "Which pic do you think is the best?"
After receiving their meal and selecting the best quality image, the pair made a post on Futaba, then started working on the post they'd be making to the English side of the internet. Neither could hold a conversation, but they could both read it pretty well, and after about a half hour of drinks and combined brain power they had something up on both 4chan and Open Source Sailor.
Humanity had another defender. Hopefully, her discovery will help someone sleep a little sounder tonight…
Despite their respectable number, the steel hulls were dwarfed by their returned counterparts. The couple dozen ships in the Maizuru fleet were relatively easy to keep track of, but Saratoga was pretty certain that level of familiarity would be impossible here. The walkways were congested, with ships and humans, and the building the carrier and her two trainees had been directed to was filled with the low hum of office work.
The carrier sighed, glancing away at the report she'd been reading and up at Hiyou. The light carrier was shifting in her seat, rangefinders locked on the floor as her hands played with the pleating of her crimson skirt. Considering how well she hid it, watching the light carrier be so nervous felt a little odd, but who wouldn't be nervous in a situation like this?
Noticing her gaze, the Japanese carrier looked up at her.
"You did fine." Saratoga reassured her student. She hadn't been allowed to sit in on the oral board Hiyou had just endured, but from what she knew of Akagi and Zuikaku they wouldn't be too harsh on her.
"Did I?" Hiyou asked, eyes wide with worry. "They asked me about the Bonhomme Richard fire and I hardly knew anything!"
"I don't think they were expecting you to know anything about it." Saratoga reassured her. They'd gone over the incident a few weeks ago, but considering the investigation behind the disaster was still underway, they'd been light on details. "You knew where and when, right? That tells them you at least looked at it."
"They're asking about that?" The second carrier, Unryu asked, brushing a strand of her unruly white hair away from her eyes.
"Don't worry about it." Saratoga reassured her. "You know they'll ask you something different."
That didn't seem to reassure her. The two carriers were their best students: to be honest, after Katori's training they probably would have done fine in the battle line, but now that they'd arrived in Yokosuka their confidence was faltering.
"Hey, the point of these isn't to keep you two in training." The American addressed them both. "This…" She lazily waved the report in her hand. "...was the real test, and to me it looks like you both passed."
A few days earlier, the trio had met the two carriers at Mutsu bay, Saratoga observing them as the veterans and the ships of the Ominato District Force placed the two trainees through a series of exercises. Afterwards, Zuikaku and Akagi had typed up the report Saratoga was holding now. The report itself was barebones, a bullet-point summary of mock dogfights, damage control drills, fleet maneuvers and target practice, but Saratoga had liked what she'd read.
She hadn't been allowed to participate in the assessment, but from the exercises she'd put them through, Saratoga was pretty confident they'd done well. They wouldn't be trying to send Hiyou and Unryu out to the rest of the fleet otherwise.
"I know…" Hiyou acknowledged, but the light carrier only stopped fiddling with her dress for a moment. "I can't explain it. I don't remember feeling this bad before Philippine Sea…"
Maybe that was it. Hiyou hadn't been very experienced, but she had seen the horrors of war. Memories of her sinking may be returning to her, the prospect of going back out there was hanging over this whole process.
Saratoga didn't voice her speculation. It was baseless, considering what she knew of the light carrier, and while it was very understandable most warships would be insulted by the insinuation. Perhaps a distraction would be more constructive…
"So… tonight, after you've both qualified…" She started, seizing the gaze of both of her students. "...do either of you know Tokyo very well?"
"Eh…" The light carrier leaned back, rangefinders drifting to the ceiling. "I was based here a few months after my summoning, but I didn't get to explore that much."
Saratoga looked over to Unryu, who shrugged.
"I've only been there twice. I know Yokosuka pretty well, but if you want to see the capital…"
"I'd be okay with seeing Yokosuka."
"No, let's see Tokyo." Hiyou insisted. "We can get a train to Ginza and do some exploring."
"We'll ask around, see if anyone's willing to act as a guide." Saratoga suggested.
Her students nodded, but didn't reply. Silence once again descended, but the tension in the room had relaxed. The minutes passed uneventfully. Laughter from a group of sailors working a few rooms down the hall drifted into the room. The ventilation hummed to life, then died. The muffled discussion between the ships on the other side of the door abruptly stopped, and all three ships were staring at the door as it clicked open.
Unryu shot to her feet, her chair scraping against the floor behind her as it shifted. Hiyou's response was more muted, the light carrier stilling as the veterans of the Kido Butai entered the room.
Zuikaku entered first, the green-haired carrier's face unreadable as she held the door open. Akagi entered next, Japan's most famous -or infamous, she supposed- carrier smiling slightly as she nodded to Saratoga.
"How do you feel?" She asked, her gaze settling on Hiyou.
"Not… great." The dark-haired carrier admitted. "When you asked me to compare the bearcat with the seafire-"
"You passed." Zuikaku interjected.
Saratoga's now-former student visibly relaxed, tension draining from the room.
"That's right." Akagi added, the older carrier unphased by her comrade's interjection. "Come on in and we'll talk about what topics you missed. After that, we'll get you, Unryu, then it's all paperwork."
Hiyou stood and followed the veteran carrier in, the worry that had been gnawing at her features absent. Zuikaku held the door for her, giving her a tight smile as they passed, before her rangefinders locked on Saratoga and she jerked her head.
"You want to join, Sara?"
"Of course." The American smiled. "From what I've heard, I think I'll be learning something too."
- - -
Ginza's streets weren't the bustling image of nightlife they'd once been, but there were still enough wandering pedestrians to hide the pair. The two walked in the open, blending into the crowd as another pair of coworkers ready to drink away a long day at work tomorrow.
Of course, that had been the pair's plan, until they'd seen the five women parting the crowd as they passed them. All were perfectly fit and exceptionally tall, their heads sticking slightly above the general bustle of the Tokyo crowd. Abnormal hair colors reflected off of street lights, and even though they were clad in high-quality clothing, not a single purse or bag was visible.
To summarize, they were obvious shipgirls.
"I think they're all carriers." The human, a wispy woman with well-trimmed hair and thick glasses, muttered. "That white hair's Unryu, and Zuikaku is known to do her hair like that."
"I think that one's Akagi." The other one added. "That leaves us with two mysteries."
Yuji and his friend, Hiromi, didn't work at the same office. They'd met in college, bonding over a shared interest in a now-retired idol and continuing their contact since their graduation a few months ago. Perhaps someday, they might take their relationship further, but for now both were focused on their new jobs, and shipgirls.
The five Kami didn't seem particularly attentive, the tiny fleet seemingly oblivious to the stares they were getting from the mortals they were walking among. Despite their quarry's nonchalance, the pair kept their distance, keeping several pedestrians between themselves and the shipgirls. There was no reason to be noticed, after all.
"Long, black hair..." Yuji muttered, hesitating as the small group ducked into an alleyway. "You familiar with that?"
"Doesn't narrow it down much." Hiromi speculated, passing Yuji to press into the alleyway. After a moment's pause, Yuji followed his friend, re-acquiring the shipgirls as they weaved through the crowd. Many sectors of Japan's economy had been hit hard by the war, but Ginza's bars still saw multitudes of workers- or those fresh out of work- seeking the temporary release of alcohol.
The five disappeared into a door nestled deep into the alleyway, a humble sign marking an establishment Yuji wasn't familiar with. They followed them in without hesitation, the soft tones of a saxophone flowing out of the door to greet them.
It shouldn't have been surprising that the shipgirls wanted to spend their night at a jazz club.
The pair were seated immediately, their 'targets' already situated in a booth on the opposite wall. Accepting the menus and giving them a quick scan, the two humans subtly adjusted their chairs so that they both had a view of their saviors.
"I think that might be Hiyou," his friend speculated, glasses peeking over her menu, "but I'm not sure."
"She's in Maizuru, isn't she?"
"Supposedly…" Hiromi agreed. "...but the Americans are supposed to be in Taiwan, and we've got one here."
"Maybe they're moving a lot of ships around due to Hawaii." He supplied.
"That would make sense…"
Between the two of them, they had an almost encyclopedic knowledge of Japan's returned saviors- or the publicly known ones. Ever since Kongou had revealed herself, they'd been immersed in the countries' saviors- spirits of the nation, screaming against the darkness that threatened the very existence of Japan's people. They still knew plenty of foreign ships, but their combined knowledge wasn't nearly as complete. Still, if the new face was truly new…
He pulled out his phone, setting the camera to its maximum optical zoom and setting it on the table in front of him. They didn't plan on talking with the shipgirls, or following them back to their base. Yuji was realistic about his chances with any of the goddesses on the other side of the club, and suspected that marriage with a shipgirl wouldn't be anything like as perfect as it sounded.
He just needed a shot of the foreign carrier's face.
As the waitress arrived and he gave his order, a flicker of guilt lingered in his soul. He accepted it, fostered it: this was wrong, after all, and if the foreign carrier was already public he wouldn't be doing it, but…
Everyone remembered the darkest weeks of 2020. Nations across the south pacific were burning, with the death toll still unknown but easily north of a billion. With Japan's lifeline to middle eastern oil violently severed, food and energy prices were exploding, a vicious death spiral of inflation that was tearing apart Japan's already weak economy. With strategic reserves dwindling and a pandemic still raging, announcements of rolling blackouts couldn't have come at a worse time.
Then, after weeks of narrow victories and fighting retreats, the Reagan was sunk. She'd been cut down in the middle of the night, the monsters using the darkness to ambush her strike group, her allies, and the civilian ships she'd been protecting.
The news came at the worst possible time. She hadn't been the first supercarrier to sink, and wouldn't be the last, but with all of her successes before the people of Japan had placed much of their hopes in the Nimitz class. With the losses the self defense forces had taken along with their allies, it felt like it was only a matter of time before the abyss bounded up the second island chain and Japan was swallowed in darkness.
It had been then, at the nation's lowest point in eighty years, when The Indestructible Diamond appeared. As if by divine intervention, the battleship Kongo appeared, stepping out of the waves to rescue her successor and the ships she'd been guarding. It wasn't a particularly large battle, but Hiromi and Yuji both agreed that it was the most important.
That day, humanity had taken their hope back.
The government didn't seem to understand that shipgirls were more than armor and weapons. Part of what made Kongou so impactful was her confident smile, reassuring demeanor, and immaculate beauty. They had an unmatched ability to fortify the will of people like himself, and world governments' efforts to keep them out of the public's eye was… misguided, at best.
Besides, it wasn't like any abyssals would drive anything useful from the information. Loose consensus among the OSINT community was that, if the monsters had internet access, they would have capitalized on it already.
The new American… wasn't as major to Yuji as something like the return of Kaga would be, but it was still very good news. Morale among his friends on the other side of the pacific had risen sharply with Monday's news of the Central Princess's demise, but the added revelation of another carrier could only help.
As covertly as possible, he raised his phone, angling the camera so the shipgirls were visible in the corner of the shot. It took a few minutes of wrestling with auto-focus, but eventually the carrier's face sharpened, and he took his shot.
"I have the picture." He muttered, after snapping a few more photos of the chatting carrier. Even from this distance, the phone did a great job capturing her soft smile and gentle posture.
"You do?" Hiromi adjusted her glasses as Yuji handed her his phone. "She's beautiful…"
"Of course she is." Yuji stated, leaving 'she's a shipgirl' unstated. "Which pic do you think is the best?"
After receiving their meal and selecting the best quality image, the pair made a post on Futaba, then started working on the post they'd be making to the English side of the internet. Neither could hold a conversation, but they could both read it pretty well, and after about a half hour of drinks and combined brain power they had something up on both 4chan and Open Source Sailor.
Humanity had another defender. Hopefully, her discovery will help someone sleep a little sounder tonight…
Initially, my plan for this interlude was to have the guy trailing Saratoga being the more traditional NEET archetype, but I think the story has enough hate sinks at the moment. Having someone with a more defensible position (not one I agree with, but more defensible) definitely improved the chapter, I think. Let me know if you agree.
- Location
- Indonesia
So, will our Wo saw that photo soon ? And managed to communicate with her princess ?
- Location
- California
Well, I suspect that poor Wo is going to have a heart attack (boiler explosion?) when she finds out how expensive a plane flight to Japan is, especially in the story's wartime conditions.
82: Evergreen
PyrrhicSteel
Look natural.
- Location
- Idaho
Even with Paloma's help, planning had been a nightmare. Trinitite didn't want to do the same thing Alex did: a dinner and a movie would be equivalent, sure, but the investment in planning would obviously be lacking. Perhaps thinking of Trinitite's budget, Paloma proposed touring one of the many hiking trails that crossed through the mountains surrounding Centralia, but the abyssal rejected that as well. That was free, undermining the point of settling the 'debt.' Besides, Washington's woods reminded her too much of aircraft overhead, shipgirls to her aft, and mysterious humans brandishing flashlights. There was the option of visiting a museum, but there was only one in the immediate area she was particularly interested in, and that was also too cheap to compare to that insanely expensive Ahi Tuna.
Then Paloma had suggested a day trip, and things only got more complicated after that. Alex's concerns about missing church, an enigmatic event she'd been missing due to work, were preempted by his princess, and it had been surprisingly easy to get one of the high schoolers at work to switch shifts with her.
The Princess started suggesting locations: WET Science center. Chihuly Garden. Museum of History & Industry. All of these seemed interesting, sure, but all of those potential destinations were north of her, far too close to Everett and where she'd last been spotted. How could she give a good excuse for not wanting to take her boyfriend north?
In the end, she hadn't explained anything, instead humming noncommitantly as she desperately searched for points of interest south of the town.
Most, obviously, were located in the city of Portland, but she quietly ruled those out as well: the unsubtly-named city was no doubt crowded with shipgirls, and Trinitite didn't like her odds of escaping another Seattle encounter with an oblivious Alex in tow. Trinitite needed somewhere further out, away from the coastline, not too close to any military base, and that was interesting enough for them to spend several hours there…
"...aaand welcome to Oregon." Alex greeted, eyes straying from the road to glance over the Columbia river. The view was partially obstructed by the bridge, corroded green support struts skittering across their view as they crossed into the new state. As her friend focused on guiding the car through the thick traffic surrounding them, the abyssal's rangefinders focused on the ships she could see in the wide river. There were a handful of commercial ships, and several smaller boats such as trawlers, but nothing she really counted as military.
Their apparent absence made sense, she guessed. From her charts, the port was fairly far upriver. Any defenses could probably see more use upriver. That wasn't enough to convince her to enter the maze of glass and steel, but it allowed her to rest a little easier.
"You know, I haven't been down here much." Alex continued, his voice contemplative.
"To Oregon, or just Portland?" Trinitite asked, looking away from the window.
"The whole state." Alex shrugged. "Although we've been avoiding big cities in general."
"You've been avoiding big cities?" Trinitite, shaving an 'as well' from the statement.
"Ever since the war started." He clipped, before his voice abruptly slowed. "It's… I don't mean to insinuate anything, Sarah, but that's where all the refugees go first, when they're the most desperate. It's probably safer than the media makes it sound, but…"
He trailed off, the sound of the road and Alex's music rushing into the silence.
"Hmm, I understand." The abyssal hummed. "I didn't hurt anyone after landfall, but before I got to Chehalis, I had to do some stuff I'm not proud of."
The Fred Meyers. From a military standpoint, the raid on that warehouse had been a massive success, a boon in supplies and intelligence that had saved her life.
…However.
She wasn't certain how large the Fred Meyers Fleet was, but she had taken a significant amount of their supplies. Hopefully they'll be able to recover.
"That's…" Alex hesitated, and doubt suddenly surged in Trinitite. Why had she volunteered that information? "Well, it's in the past now. As long as you're with us, you won't have to do that anymore."
Something about the way he said that made Trinitite relax, pressure wobbling slightly in her steam system. Like always, his reaction had been sympathetic. Perhaps that was why she'd released the admission so easily.
"I don't want to be a liability-"
"You're paying for this, right?" Alex interrupted, a hand leaving the wheel to motion over the rest of the car. "Sarah, you've pulled more than your own weight."
"Ah, thanks." She allowed, and once more Alex's soft music combined with the noise of the road to fill the silence.
The Wo-class had insisted on paying for the fuel, any food they had along the way, and the entry tickets themselves. She still wasn't certain what the final cost would be, but this trip was probably going to top the price of the date Alex had taken her on. She didn't mind, though. They'd both paid for one date, and the fact that hers had been more expensive had been on her for ambitious planning, not Alex.
"I hope paying for this doesn't cut into your plans for your fleet." The human commented, accidentally mirroring Trinitite's thoughts.
"It's no problem. I have to print a few things, grab a Nu and some more destroyers, invest in some submarines, then I'll have all I need." In truth, she was thinking about procuring some battleships, swapping the bases out so she could emulate some other fleets she knew and not feel guilty about game modes like shore bombardment, but that was a very distant goal. The addition of the Ne-Class Monticello had been very effective yesterday, although she wished she could have modeled the Prinz Eugen-base's 5"/38s properly.
It seemed everyone in the store wanted to play a game with 'The Commissar,' and the game must be catching on because a lot of her opponents were newer than she was! It was somewhat hard, seeing so many of the crossroads fleet sink over and over again, but the abyss was claiming far more enemy ships then her own.
"Well, I hope this museum is gonna be worth the Nu-class"
"Don't think about it that way." The Abyssal reassured him. "I already know it will be."
The time would be spent with him, after all.
- - -
It was absolutely worth the money.
After getting some real hamburgers at the tiny town of Evergreen, the pair set a course for the Air and Space museum of the same name.
The concept of a museum didn't make much sense to Trinitite. A fleet dedicated to collecting obsolete equipment, maintaining it, and charging for others to just come and look at it? Initially, the concept had sounded stupid, yet upon reading what they had to offer, the Wo-class found it immensely appealing. They had more aircraft then she did at the moment, and all of them were unique, so as a carrier of course she was interested! Maintaining all of those different airframes must be incredibly expensive. Would enough humans share the same interest to keep up with maintenance?
It was another of the mysteries pushing her to investigate. Thankfully, Alex had seemed interested as well. Hopefully he wasn't feigning it for her sake.
The museum was split into two buildings, the massive hangers surrounded not by tarmac, but wide fields of carefully-trimmed grass. Bathed in the soft light of the overcast afternoon, several aircraft were scattered around the structure. Two she immediately recognized: A MiG… something, similar to what Dustin used in his Russian fleets, and a familiar twin-tailed bomber whose immense speed and ridiculous bomb load had incurred a lot of losses among the Crossroads Fleet. As they left the car, Trinitite set a course for the enemy aircraft, enjoying the feeling of the light rain as Alex followed.
"You want to see the F-15?" He asked, flipping the hood on his jacket up.
"That's an F-15?" She asked, "I've seen them in flight, but never really knew what they were."
"I just know them from Ace Combat." Alex admitted. "You'd have to ask Dustin about any details."
"Considering it isn't Russian, I bet he'd say it's terrible."
While Alex laughed, halfheartedly claiming his friend wasn't "that bad," the abyssal leaned over to inspect the placard at the base of the aircraft. Apparently it was a fighter, which was surprising considering the oppressive amount of bombs they often dumped on her convoys. Apparently undefeated in aerial combat, although the Wo-class doubted that claim. She knew the Crossroads fleet had downed a couple… although the accidental collision that saw the loss of both the human fighter and one of Firestorm's Bearcats might not have counted, and the other had been because of anti-aircraft fire. Human jet fighters were malevolently fast, so even engaging one with her Bearcats was extremely difficult. The ones she had scored kills on had either possessed a single tailfin or had been a much smaller airframe.
Another aircraft she recognized had been waiting for them inside the building. Packed in with only slightly less density as the aircraft in her own hangar, a familiar plus-shaped aircraft greeted the abyssal.
Trinitite remembered the fear she'd felt as the bomber- attacker, the placard read- stalked above the treetops in those desperate days immediately after landfall. Now that she could see it up close, the six cannons embedded in the aircraft's nose, each significantly larger than the 20mm's her aircraft used, looked pretty scary as well. She'd never seen one until that day on the Olympic Peninsula, but apparently they'd been prolific early in the war, tearing holes into abyssal screens so more fragile fighters could make attacks on capital ships. The placard said the airforce didn't really use them anymore, because the vast majority had been destroyed by now, but the mention of high losses inspired a question in the abyssal.
"Why didn't they send this one into combat?"
Alex didn't know the answer, which Trinitite guessed was expected. What she didn't expect was for her boyfriend to track down a member of the museum's fleet, posing the question to them.
"Oh, our Warthog isn't really air-worthy." The employee commented. "It'll cost too much for the air force to refurbish it."
"Ah, that makes sense." The damaged Wo-class nodded, her impression of the aircraft softening as her rangefinders traced over it again. They both had something in common, then.
Among all the aircraft, all were dwarfed by the titan in the center of the hangar: The Spruce Goose. The massive flying boat filled the hangar, about as large as a destroyer in both length and wingspan. She was made of wood, built in the second world war as a transport carrying supplies over submarine-infested waters.
As the pair stood in the plane's cavernous interior, Alex's voice interrupted the conversations of the other patrons.
"You think this plane has a soul?"
"Like a ship?" The Carrier asked, pausing as she considered the question. On the surface, it was silly: the behemoth was an airplane, not a ship, after all. Her crew would be much smaller than a ship, and she was made of wood, not steel, but ships from two centuries back had been made of wood too, right? She was as big as a ship, and there were videos of her floating… "I don't know."
The staff didn't have an answer either.
There were plenty of other aircraft… too many for her to remember in detail from one visit. There were familiar aircraft, such as a PBY, but many, many more that she hadn't actually seen before. There were older jets that bridged the gap between her air wing and the modern monsters she had to face, as well as fascinating spacecraft humanity had used to reach out and touch the moon, but surprisingly the majority were from her Mother's time.
Among all the discarded prototypes, army aircraft, and ancient biplanes, however, sat a rather conventional-looking fighter: A Focke-Wulf Fw-190. The German fighter was impressive enough, but the abyssal's attention was really seized by a small placard mounted next to it. She recognized the form of a B-17. The high-altitude bomber saw some use by installations, but she couldn't say she was actually familiar with aircraft until she'd researched it herself.
The 'flying fortress' depicted in the painting was in a catastrophic condition. Its rudder was shot away, tatters dangling from a badly damaged vertical stabilizer. The one visible horizontal stabilizer was completely gone, an aluminum scar along the tail the only evidence there was supposed to be something there at all. Deep, ugly gashes ran along the aircraft's fuselage and wings, the gunner's position in the ventilated aircraft's nose a shattered mess. If one of Trinitite's own aircraft were in such a state, she doubted she would even bother trying to recover it.
Off the doomed aircraft's starboard, a fighter hovered in formation with the bomber, its dark form slightly different from the fighter in front of the Wo, but bearing the same symbols. They were German, if she recalled correctly.
…except that didn't make any sense. America and Germany were at war back then. Why would they be flying in formation? Either this was an event before or after the war, Trinitite was catastrophically misremembering something from her research, or something truly unusual had happened.
According to the placard, the B-17 had been on a mission to bomb factories assembling 190's like the one in front of her. The description didn't mention if the mission was successful or not, but for this specific bomber, it had been a disaster. This aircraft was intercepted by multiple fighters, plunging to under a thousand feet and suffering the gruesome damage illustrated. Abandoned and with no support, it tried to make its way back to its installation, but considering it was well within range of ground-based AA, there was little hope of survival… until, paradoxically, another German fighter intercepted it.
The pilot of the fighter angled into an attack, observed the aircraft's desperate state, then… decided not to shoot down his enemy.
The Wo-class paused, rereading the section to confirm what she'd just read. The German fighter not only intentionally failed to shoot down their opponent, but escorted them to the sea through German anti-aircraft defenses!
But… but why?
Letting the damaged aircraft leave made some sense. The Crossroads fleet had an unsaid policy of leaving downed pilots alone, because they couldn't think of a reason to hunt them down. However, she'd never go out of her way to protect them, especially from allied fleets!
The description mentioned 'honor' and 'mercy,' but she failed to see how either of those really applied. They were enemies, after all. They'd never show her such things.
"Woah…" Alex murmured, interrupting her confusion. "That's… pretty amazing."
"Yeah." Trinitite murmured, still trying to make sense of the story written in front of her. Escorting an enemy bomber out of your own air defenses… wouldn't the pilot have gotten in trouble?
'Trouble' might be an understatement. Aiding the enemy was treason, wasn't it? Even the accusation of sympathizing with the enemy was punished severely, in most other fleets, although it happened so rarely that Trinitite only heard of two stories.
"...and they found each other after the war." Alex noted. "It says they became good friends afterwards."
Afterwards. As in, 'after the war.' Trinitite had to remind herself that wars between humans were much more like the conflicts between abyssal fleets: a kinetic extension of negotiations, rather than the struggle for survival Trinitite was familiar with.
"That's really nice." The Wo-class said, but the words felt bitter in her mouth. She was in a similar state as the B-17, but she never expected such… mercy. Now that she'd read this, the Wo-class knew she'd be dreaming of the prospect of The Navy sparing her weeks from now, despite the fact she knew she'd get no such kindness.
The Navy had been willing to drag several humans into the depths if it meant getting at her. Even if they wanted her alive, there was no hope they'd allow her to see her mother. Fantasies about being shown 'mercy' were nothing more than that: fantasies.
Yet… as the pair finished their self-guided tour and made their way back to the car, the fantasies lingered, lurking under all the fascinating designs and historical facts she'd learned. No matter how hard she tried, Trinitite doubted she would see them disappear any time soon.
Then Paloma had suggested a day trip, and things only got more complicated after that. Alex's concerns about missing church, an enigmatic event she'd been missing due to work, were preempted by his princess, and it had been surprisingly easy to get one of the high schoolers at work to switch shifts with her.
The Princess started suggesting locations: WET Science center. Chihuly Garden. Museum of History & Industry. All of these seemed interesting, sure, but all of those potential destinations were north of her, far too close to Everett and where she'd last been spotted. How could she give a good excuse for not wanting to take her boyfriend north?
In the end, she hadn't explained anything, instead humming noncommitantly as she desperately searched for points of interest south of the town.
Most, obviously, were located in the city of Portland, but she quietly ruled those out as well: the unsubtly-named city was no doubt crowded with shipgirls, and Trinitite didn't like her odds of escaping another Seattle encounter with an oblivious Alex in tow. Trinitite needed somewhere further out, away from the coastline, not too close to any military base, and that was interesting enough for them to spend several hours there…
"...aaand welcome to Oregon." Alex greeted, eyes straying from the road to glance over the Columbia river. The view was partially obstructed by the bridge, corroded green support struts skittering across their view as they crossed into the new state. As her friend focused on guiding the car through the thick traffic surrounding them, the abyssal's rangefinders focused on the ships she could see in the wide river. There were a handful of commercial ships, and several smaller boats such as trawlers, but nothing she really counted as military.
Their apparent absence made sense, she guessed. From her charts, the port was fairly far upriver. Any defenses could probably see more use upriver. That wasn't enough to convince her to enter the maze of glass and steel, but it allowed her to rest a little easier.
"You know, I haven't been down here much." Alex continued, his voice contemplative.
"To Oregon, or just Portland?" Trinitite asked, looking away from the window.
"The whole state." Alex shrugged. "Although we've been avoiding big cities in general."
"You've been avoiding big cities?" Trinitite, shaving an 'as well' from the statement.
"Ever since the war started." He clipped, before his voice abruptly slowed. "It's… I don't mean to insinuate anything, Sarah, but that's where all the refugees go first, when they're the most desperate. It's probably safer than the media makes it sound, but…"
He trailed off, the sound of the road and Alex's music rushing into the silence.
"Hmm, I understand." The abyssal hummed. "I didn't hurt anyone after landfall, but before I got to Chehalis, I had to do some stuff I'm not proud of."
The Fred Meyers. From a military standpoint, the raid on that warehouse had been a massive success, a boon in supplies and intelligence that had saved her life.
…However.
She wasn't certain how large the Fred Meyers Fleet was, but she had taken a significant amount of their supplies. Hopefully they'll be able to recover.
"That's…" Alex hesitated, and doubt suddenly surged in Trinitite. Why had she volunteered that information? "Well, it's in the past now. As long as you're with us, you won't have to do that anymore."
Something about the way he said that made Trinitite relax, pressure wobbling slightly in her steam system. Like always, his reaction had been sympathetic. Perhaps that was why she'd released the admission so easily.
"I don't want to be a liability-"
"You're paying for this, right?" Alex interrupted, a hand leaving the wheel to motion over the rest of the car. "Sarah, you've pulled more than your own weight."
"Ah, thanks." She allowed, and once more Alex's soft music combined with the noise of the road to fill the silence.
The Wo-class had insisted on paying for the fuel, any food they had along the way, and the entry tickets themselves. She still wasn't certain what the final cost would be, but this trip was probably going to top the price of the date Alex had taken her on. She didn't mind, though. They'd both paid for one date, and the fact that hers had been more expensive had been on her for ambitious planning, not Alex.
"I hope paying for this doesn't cut into your plans for your fleet." The human commented, accidentally mirroring Trinitite's thoughts.
"It's no problem. I have to print a few things, grab a Nu and some more destroyers, invest in some submarines, then I'll have all I need." In truth, she was thinking about procuring some battleships, swapping the bases out so she could emulate some other fleets she knew and not feel guilty about game modes like shore bombardment, but that was a very distant goal. The addition of the Ne-Class Monticello had been very effective yesterday, although she wished she could have modeled the Prinz Eugen-base's 5"/38s properly.
It seemed everyone in the store wanted to play a game with 'The Commissar,' and the game must be catching on because a lot of her opponents were newer than she was! It was somewhat hard, seeing so many of the crossroads fleet sink over and over again, but the abyss was claiming far more enemy ships then her own.
"Well, I hope this museum is gonna be worth the Nu-class"
"Don't think about it that way." The Abyssal reassured him. "I already know it will be."
The time would be spent with him, after all.
- - -
It was absolutely worth the money.
After getting some real hamburgers at the tiny town of Evergreen, the pair set a course for the Air and Space museum of the same name.
The concept of a museum didn't make much sense to Trinitite. A fleet dedicated to collecting obsolete equipment, maintaining it, and charging for others to just come and look at it? Initially, the concept had sounded stupid, yet upon reading what they had to offer, the Wo-class found it immensely appealing. They had more aircraft then she did at the moment, and all of them were unique, so as a carrier of course she was interested! Maintaining all of those different airframes must be incredibly expensive. Would enough humans share the same interest to keep up with maintenance?
It was another of the mysteries pushing her to investigate. Thankfully, Alex had seemed interested as well. Hopefully he wasn't feigning it for her sake.
The museum was split into two buildings, the massive hangers surrounded not by tarmac, but wide fields of carefully-trimmed grass. Bathed in the soft light of the overcast afternoon, several aircraft were scattered around the structure. Two she immediately recognized: A MiG… something, similar to what Dustin used in his Russian fleets, and a familiar twin-tailed bomber whose immense speed and ridiculous bomb load had incurred a lot of losses among the Crossroads Fleet. As they left the car, Trinitite set a course for the enemy aircraft, enjoying the feeling of the light rain as Alex followed.
"You want to see the F-15?" He asked, flipping the hood on his jacket up.
"That's an F-15?" She asked, "I've seen them in flight, but never really knew what they were."
"I just know them from Ace Combat." Alex admitted. "You'd have to ask Dustin about any details."
"Considering it isn't Russian, I bet he'd say it's terrible."
While Alex laughed, halfheartedly claiming his friend wasn't "that bad," the abyssal leaned over to inspect the placard at the base of the aircraft. Apparently it was a fighter, which was surprising considering the oppressive amount of bombs they often dumped on her convoys. Apparently undefeated in aerial combat, although the Wo-class doubted that claim. She knew the Crossroads fleet had downed a couple… although the accidental collision that saw the loss of both the human fighter and one of Firestorm's Bearcats might not have counted, and the other had been because of anti-aircraft fire. Human jet fighters were malevolently fast, so even engaging one with her Bearcats was extremely difficult. The ones she had scored kills on had either possessed a single tailfin or had been a much smaller airframe.
Another aircraft she recognized had been waiting for them inside the building. Packed in with only slightly less density as the aircraft in her own hangar, a familiar plus-shaped aircraft greeted the abyssal.
Trinitite remembered the fear she'd felt as the bomber- attacker, the placard read- stalked above the treetops in those desperate days immediately after landfall. Now that she could see it up close, the six cannons embedded in the aircraft's nose, each significantly larger than the 20mm's her aircraft used, looked pretty scary as well. She'd never seen one until that day on the Olympic Peninsula, but apparently they'd been prolific early in the war, tearing holes into abyssal screens so more fragile fighters could make attacks on capital ships. The placard said the airforce didn't really use them anymore, because the vast majority had been destroyed by now, but the mention of high losses inspired a question in the abyssal.
"Why didn't they send this one into combat?"
Alex didn't know the answer, which Trinitite guessed was expected. What she didn't expect was for her boyfriend to track down a member of the museum's fleet, posing the question to them.
"Oh, our Warthog isn't really air-worthy." The employee commented. "It'll cost too much for the air force to refurbish it."
"Ah, that makes sense." The damaged Wo-class nodded, her impression of the aircraft softening as her rangefinders traced over it again. They both had something in common, then.
Among all the aircraft, all were dwarfed by the titan in the center of the hangar: The Spruce Goose. The massive flying boat filled the hangar, about as large as a destroyer in both length and wingspan. She was made of wood, built in the second world war as a transport carrying supplies over submarine-infested waters.
As the pair stood in the plane's cavernous interior, Alex's voice interrupted the conversations of the other patrons.
"You think this plane has a soul?"
"Like a ship?" The Carrier asked, pausing as she considered the question. On the surface, it was silly: the behemoth was an airplane, not a ship, after all. Her crew would be much smaller than a ship, and she was made of wood, not steel, but ships from two centuries back had been made of wood too, right? She was as big as a ship, and there were videos of her floating… "I don't know."
The staff didn't have an answer either.
There were plenty of other aircraft… too many for her to remember in detail from one visit. There were familiar aircraft, such as a PBY, but many, many more that she hadn't actually seen before. There were older jets that bridged the gap between her air wing and the modern monsters she had to face, as well as fascinating spacecraft humanity had used to reach out and touch the moon, but surprisingly the majority were from her Mother's time.
Among all the discarded prototypes, army aircraft, and ancient biplanes, however, sat a rather conventional-looking fighter: A Focke-Wulf Fw-190. The German fighter was impressive enough, but the abyssal's attention was really seized by a small placard mounted next to it. She recognized the form of a B-17. The high-altitude bomber saw some use by installations, but she couldn't say she was actually familiar with aircraft until she'd researched it herself.
The 'flying fortress' depicted in the painting was in a catastrophic condition. Its rudder was shot away, tatters dangling from a badly damaged vertical stabilizer. The one visible horizontal stabilizer was completely gone, an aluminum scar along the tail the only evidence there was supposed to be something there at all. Deep, ugly gashes ran along the aircraft's fuselage and wings, the gunner's position in the ventilated aircraft's nose a shattered mess. If one of Trinitite's own aircraft were in such a state, she doubted she would even bother trying to recover it.
Off the doomed aircraft's starboard, a fighter hovered in formation with the bomber, its dark form slightly different from the fighter in front of the Wo, but bearing the same symbols. They were German, if she recalled correctly.
…except that didn't make any sense. America and Germany were at war back then. Why would they be flying in formation? Either this was an event before or after the war, Trinitite was catastrophically misremembering something from her research, or something truly unusual had happened.
According to the placard, the B-17 had been on a mission to bomb factories assembling 190's like the one in front of her. The description didn't mention if the mission was successful or not, but for this specific bomber, it had been a disaster. This aircraft was intercepted by multiple fighters, plunging to under a thousand feet and suffering the gruesome damage illustrated. Abandoned and with no support, it tried to make its way back to its installation, but considering it was well within range of ground-based AA, there was little hope of survival… until, paradoxically, another German fighter intercepted it.
The pilot of the fighter angled into an attack, observed the aircraft's desperate state, then… decided not to shoot down his enemy.
The Wo-class paused, rereading the section to confirm what she'd just read. The German fighter not only intentionally failed to shoot down their opponent, but escorted them to the sea through German anti-aircraft defenses!
But… but why?
Letting the damaged aircraft leave made some sense. The Crossroads fleet had an unsaid policy of leaving downed pilots alone, because they couldn't think of a reason to hunt them down. However, she'd never go out of her way to protect them, especially from allied fleets!
The description mentioned 'honor' and 'mercy,' but she failed to see how either of those really applied. They were enemies, after all. They'd never show her such things.
"Woah…" Alex murmured, interrupting her confusion. "That's… pretty amazing."
"Yeah." Trinitite murmured, still trying to make sense of the story written in front of her. Escorting an enemy bomber out of your own air defenses… wouldn't the pilot have gotten in trouble?
'Trouble' might be an understatement. Aiding the enemy was treason, wasn't it? Even the accusation of sympathizing with the enemy was punished severely, in most other fleets, although it happened so rarely that Trinitite only heard of two stories.
"...and they found each other after the war." Alex noted. "It says they became good friends afterwards."
Afterwards. As in, 'after the war.' Trinitite had to remind herself that wars between humans were much more like the conflicts between abyssal fleets: a kinetic extension of negotiations, rather than the struggle for survival Trinitite was familiar with.
"That's really nice." The Wo-class said, but the words felt bitter in her mouth. She was in a similar state as the B-17, but she never expected such… mercy. Now that she'd read this, the Wo-class knew she'd be dreaming of the prospect of The Navy sparing her weeks from now, despite the fact she knew she'd get no such kindness.
The Navy had been willing to drag several humans into the depths if it meant getting at her. Even if they wanted her alive, there was no hope they'd allow her to see her mother. Fantasies about being shown 'mercy' were nothing more than that: fantasies.
Yet… as the pair finished their self-guided tour and made their way back to the car, the fantasies lingered, lurking under all the fascinating designs and historical facts she'd learned. No matter how hard she tried, Trinitite doubted she would see them disappear any time soon.
This was going to be part of a larger chapter, but it was starting to look like the final product was going to be >7k words, and I probably won't have much time to write in a couple weeks, so I decided to get y'all some writing out sooner before my leave ends and my schedule constricts again. Unfortunately, most of the major character work/plot developments were backloaded into the end of the chapter, so this one is more fluff then anything. Enjoy it while you can, I suppose 
This also marks the first time Trinitite's visited a location I've actually been at. Granted, I was there while Evergreen still had a B-17 and BF-109, so the Charlie Brown + Franz Stigler incident placard probably isn't still up, but I was willing to take that creative liberty. It's a great museum, I'd recommend it if you're in the area.
Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! I hope to get the next chapter out pretty quickly, but I can't make any garuntees.
This also marks the first time Trinitite's visited a location I've actually been at. Granted, I was there while Evergreen still had a B-17 and BF-109, so the Charlie Brown + Franz Stigler incident placard probably isn't still up, but I was willing to take that creative liberty. It's a great museum, I'd recommend it if you're in the area.
Anyways, I hope you enjoyed! I hope to get the next chapter out pretty quickly, but I can't make any garuntees.
I'm guessing the second upriver means downriver.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
I can't believe PyrrhicSteel has never been to a jack in the box
he's just like me
With her elevators out of action, she could moonlight as an airplane tender, I suppose. And the Spruce Goose is a floatplane. Though, to be honest, I wouldn't want to try and have even a fully intact Essex carry one
jesus
Arasaka VTuber PsyOps
I had no idea until this comment that it was a real chain...
Was Katie following them for this?
83: Sunset
PyrrhicSteel
Look natural.
- Location
- Idaho
"You picked pretty well." Trinitite muttered, although with a mouth full of pulled pork she wasn't all that certain Alex heard her properly.
"Thank you!" He chirped. "...but I selected a place randomly."
The barbeque restaurant had given them several foam to-go boxes, their warmth seeping into Trinitite's lap as they drove. Alex was currently searching for somewhere to park the vehicle so he could eat, the pair finishing dinner before they completed the voyage home. She'd initially wanted to wait until they'd parked before she started eating, but that had been before the pair had left the restaurant, entering the car and locking her in with the thick, sweet, enticing aroma of pulled pork. The overwhelming musk of the meat colluded with her constantly complaining supply division to break her resolve, but thankfully Alex only chuckled when she popped one of the to-go boxes open and started eating.
The vehicle started to slow, bleeding speed until Alex took the car into a smooth turn. Trinitite had to abort her resupply as the new road twisted and turned, carrying the vehicle up a mountain sideroad's twists and turns until they finally found a place to pull over.
The rain that had accompanied them at the museum had departed, the cloudfront highlighted in brilliant oranges and pinks as it drifted eastward. A break in the trees ahead of them revealed forest-carpeted hills, their sharp peaks highlighted in the setting sun. Trinitite was tempted to roll down the windows to feel the evening breeze, but that would vent the delicious smell of meat so they remained shut.
The engine died, the abyssal handed Alex his meal, and the pair ate in silence. As far as human food went, the pulled pork had a kind of simplistic elegance to it: shredded meat, prepared in such a way that all the customer had to do was dip it in some sauce before eating it. Trinitite had expected it to taste pretty simple, too- in fact, she'd been looking forward to some basic meat- but the restaurant had managed to cook several different rich, deep flavors into the flesh. If she had to relate the taste to anything, it would be some kind of burning wood, but that couldn't be right, could it?
That was before the barbecue's rich flavor was complemented by the many sauces that had been supplied. They'd come in a collection of plastic cups, Trinitite's selection carefully segregated from Alex's. The abyssal had no interest in inadvertently trying one of the 'hot' sauces.
As with any sauce, their flavor was far too strong, but that was intentional. With a careful dip, however, the Wo-class could balance the bold tang of the sauce with the deep flavor of the pulled pork, with one exception.
"...you don't like the Carolina sauce?" Alex asked, accepting the cup of golden liquid the Wo-class offered her.
"It's a little too strong." Trinitite explained, uncertain how to elaborate further. It wasn't spicy, but…
"Sarah, it's basically mustard." He teased, shaking his head as he offered one of his sauce cups to the abyssal. "I'll trade this one for it, I guess."
Trinitite eyed the cup wearily.
"It's not the hot sauce you procured, is it?"
"No." Alex answered, before a mischievous glint crept into his features. "...probably not."
Trinitite recoiled, shying away from the cup as if it was explosive.
"Well- test it, then!"
Rolling his eyes, Alex placed the cup back on the lid of his box, popping the lid open for long enough to dip a few strands of pork in the liquid and taking a bite. Trinitite watched him chew, looking for any sign of discomfort, but none appeared as he nodded and offered Trinitite the cup of sauce.
"Didn't you say you were going to work on trust issues?" He teased.
"This is different." The abyssal muttered, accepting the cup of sauce and returning to her meal. Thankfully, Alex wasn't lying, the sauce she traded for being pleasantly sweet.
Half an hour passed, the supply of meat and sauce slowly depleting as the pair focused on eating. Soon, both were sitting with almost empty containers,
"So, Sarah…" he led, closing his now-empty to-go box with a click. "...what do you know about Thanksgiving?"
"I… know it's this week." She started. "I forgot the day."
"You know about the feast everyone has?"
"No…" Trinitite started, before a memory abruptly returned to her. "Wait, yeah, you told me about it earlier, right?"
"I did, yeah." He nodded. "You said you were looking forward to it, right?
"Absolutely." Trinitite added. "Lots of food up at your grandparents place, right?"
"Yup." He confirmed, rubbing the back of his head. "Would you…" he paused, rangefinders flicking to the hills in front of them. "...would you care to join me?"
"I'd love to!" Trinitite announced, before an issue occurred to her. "...but I want to be able to help with the food."
"You don't have to."
"I should."
"Of course." Alex smiled. "That's why I love you."
Alex… loved her?
The Wo-class wanted to say something, thank him, or something, but as pressure spiked in her steam system and on-duty crew paused their work, words failed her. Her mother loved her. Her old fleetmates loved her. There was nobody else beyond that, and the abyssal had assumed that would never change, but…
Alex loved her. Despite many reasons to believe the contrary, Trinitite knew he was telling the truth.
"I mean-" Alex stuttered, jarring Trinitite out of her indecision. Before the human could continue, she forced some kind of statement into the air.
"Thank you." She interjected, leaning forwards as she scrambled to say something. "I… I think I love you too."
Was that true? Trinitite had no idea. This was different from her relationship with Mother or her sisters, but it was a lot more than simply an acquaintance, or even the small number of ships from other fleets she'd grown to admire. She needed to explore this further.
Alex's face grew in Trinitite's vision, and the abyssal abruptly realized how much they both were leaning over the console in the center of the vehicle.
"Ah, where are we going to take this?" Alex muttered, the space between the two momentarily growing.
"I don't know." The Wo-class replied.
For a second, they simply stared at each other, before Alex's hand awkwardly rose to rest on Trinitite's shoulder. Gently, it nudged the abyssal closer, as her boyfriend shifted to lean into her.
This… was a kiss. Trinitite had read about them, recognized them from both the movie Alex had shown him and his parents, but hadn't looked too deeply into them. She hadn't thought something like this would come up yet! Still, the aircraft carrier found herself leaning into the pull. She needed to explore this further.
Trinitite couldn't hear anything, save for the pounding roar of her running turbines. Alex was inches away from her. She could see every splash of color in his eyes, smell the barbeque he'd just eaten, feel the heat of his breath on her lips-
The heat!
Alex's hand hardly provided any resistance as the abyssal jerked away from the newly discovered threat, reason and panic suddenly overwhelming… whatever it was that had been controlling her. The food they'd been eating had long cooled to the twilight's falling temperatures, and so had she. Like any engine, humans ran hotter than the environment around them, which was why the abyssal had always been so careful to avoid skin-to-skin contact. Any human who touched her would immediately realize how much colder she was, compared to other humans, and that would obviously require some sort of explanation.
She had none.
Looking up at Alex, Trinitite realized an explanation was needed anyways. She didn't know if shock, or fear or betrayal was behind the pain etched into his features, but they made the carrier feel like multiple compartments had been breached by ice.
Trinitite had just really hurt Alex. She wanted to say something- to speak up and reassure him that it wasn't his fault, but what could she say? That she was an abyssal? Learning that she'd been deceiving him would only hurt him more. Her mouth was hanging open. She tried to force it to form some words of comfort, but none came to her mind.
Like always, Alex finally spoke first.
"Sarah… I'm so sorry." he started, the shock on his face fading to a sick unease as he leaned back in the driver's seat. Shaking hands started fumbling with the steering wheel, grasping unsteadily for the keys hanging out of the car's ignition. "I was being too pushy, and-"
"It's not your fault!" Trinitite shouted, and the human froze. When he finally looked back at Trinitite, the abyssal had finally determined something to say. "I still think I love you, but…"
She trailed off, once again colliding with the problem of not really having an excuse.
"...but we were moving too fast." Alex said, dejected. "I didn't mean to try and take things there, Sarah. I don't know what I was thinking."
The car roared to life, a gust of air escaping the vents to wash off Trinitite's bridge.
"I guess." She lied. "Don't blame yourself, though."
It was a very quiet drive home.
- - -
It was Monday, now.
Outside the vehicle that had become the Wo-class's berthing, it would be impossible to tell. The windows were just as dark as they'd been fifteen minutes ago. The muffled sounds of insects outside hadn't changed, and while the skies were clear, glare from nearby streetlights hid the stars from Trinitite, frustrating any attempt to read them. The fact that sleep had evaded her for several hours now was only known to the Wo-class via her internal chronometer, the device taunting her as her navigation officer continued to provide her with updates.
Normally, she had no problem sleeping. Now, she'd been constantly tossing and turning, the carrier who normally didn't find any issue with a branch or concrete suddenly unable to find a comfortable position on the air mattress and normally-inviting pillow.
It obviously wasn't an issue with the bedding. Every time the Wo-class closed her eyes, Alex's shocked face filled her vision. Worry gnawed at every wire, pipe and bunk in the carrier, keeping rest well outside her reach. The problem of Alex continued to turn over and over in her head, worsening with every hour of sleep she lost.
He was going to try to initiate a kiss again. Part of her hoped he'd try again, even though such a scenario would lead to disaster again. She didn't fully understand what had occurred- Trinitite hadn't been able to focus when she just tried to research it further- but if it did happen again, she needed a solution. If Trinitite could get some sort of consistent and concealable heat source, she might be okay, but that would require a lot of research time and money!
That wasn't the only issue. A kiss would smear her makeup, possibly exposing the steel-gray lying under the red gloss. Albinism might explain white skin, but they still had red, human blood to color their lips. Trinitite, again, would have no explanation if Alex asked about it. She could switch to gray lipstick, she guessed, but how could she explain that?
…and what if she did convincingly kiss Alex? Dating was still a huge mystery to her, but it wasn't inconceivable for it to happen again, and again, with little-to-no warning. What if things went further? Trinitite still didn't know what had come over her in the car earlier, but the thought of it happening again was terrifying. What if Trinitite found herself in a jeopardizing position before rationality could reassert itself?
She needed to either call off the date negotiations or finally reveal her nature to Alex. The first would shatter the trust they had and ruin the relationship she had with someone she… someone she loved, while the latter would do the exact same thing. Why had she thought this 'date' thing had been a good idea?
Groaning in frustration and exhaustion, the abyssal rolled in her sheets. No matter what course she picked, she could only see disaster! She needed to put the decision off until her exhaustion was no longer clouding her thoughts, but that required her to get some deep-damned sleep!
She didn't even know why she was so tired. She'd been too excited about the date last night to get much sleep, sure, but she could normally go for much longer without having to rest.
…maybe she didn't have to rest now. It shouldn't be this difficult! She really wanted to, though. She had to go to work in the morning, and the idea of confronting customers feeling like this was not appealing.
She shifted again, and the pale-blue glow of her phone filled the vehicle's interior. She needed something else to think about, something important enough to take her mind off the issue, but with less terrible stakes. After she'd let the problem sit for a little bit, she'd get back to the Alex situation.
Open Source Sailor
She wasn't really expecting to find Mother. Trinitite had spent two weeks scouring this website with sparse results, but the intelligence she had gained in the meantime had always been fascinating. The fleets that normally gave humanity war news obviously couldn't be trusted: they were only being told what The Navy wanted them to hear. The thousands of enthusiastic humans scattered around the world's coasts didn't have a complete picture either, but the abyssal could fill some gaps with her own memories to get updates on the situation in the pacific.
For example, apparently humanity saw the big southern offensive coming, because several shipgirls were appearing in towns all across Australia. A lot of threads discussing 'new shipgirls' weren't new at all, simply ones the photographer hadn't recognized.
Thus, when she read a thread titled 'New US Carrier in Tokyo,' the Wo-class felt only a flicker of hope. On top of that, she didn't quite remember where Tokyo was, although she'd heard the name before. That didn't bode too well…
The Wo-class blinked, hard, trying to banish the sudden return of negativity as she opened the thread.
Hello OSS.
Apologies for poor english, I started learning when the war started.
My friend and I were in Ginza, Tokyo when we spotted a group of kansen. We followed them to a local bar and took a couple pictures, and didn't recognize all of them. We think they are all carriers, but are not sure.
We recognized all of them as JMSDF carriers, except for the foreign looking one. We think she's US, but are not sure.
SPOILER: Images
'JMSDF…' that fleet was based out of Japan, wasn't it? On the other side of the pacific? If her Mother was over there…
Almost on its own accord, a shivering finger tapped the box, the spoiler expanding to reveal a painfully familiar face. Saratoga, her mother, was sitting in the center, smiling serenely as she listened to the ships around her.
The Japanese ships.
On the other side of the Pacific.
She'd been badly damaged. She'd been hunted from the air, land, and sea. She'd been forced to hide, lie, and steal, and now lived every day in fear of arousing suspicion or hurting someone… just to be on the wrong damn continent!
She wanted to scream, to summon her rigging and lash out at anything, but doing something like that here would be self-destructive. Instead, she rolled in her sheets, burying her face in her pillow to dab away the sting of gathering tears. Had they moved Saratoga once they realized she'd made it to America, or had she always been searching an empty grid? If they knew she was trying to find her mother, they could keep her there indefinitely, or move her to Hawaii or Australia or Europe or back here if they noticed her trying to get to Japan.
Japan…
Getting to the United States had almost gotten her sunk, but in hindsight she'd been more than simply lucky. They hadn't been expecting her commandeering of a civilian vessel, a tactic humanity no-doubt had a counter to now. The JMSDF had been overwhelming in the battle of Bikini, and attempts to attack the islands had claimed entire fleets, as the twisted form of The Crane Princess that had been conversing with her mother could attest.
If she wanted to go to Japan, she'd have to do something incredibly unorthodox, like… getting to Alaska, somehow, jumping the strait between Asia and the Americas, sneaking through Russia, and attempting to dash from Russia to Japan. It would require a lot more research to see if it was feasible, but already the Wo-class could tell it was a desperate, stupid plan. Especially if she hadn't repaired herself yet.
She groaned, familiar aches and pains suddenly brought into focus. There was no question: she couldn't go out to sea again in this state. Her crew had done everything they could by this point: Her deck had been patched and reenforced well enough to launch and recover aircraft, but both of her elevators were still damaged beyond repair. If she'd had one of those side elevators her sisters had, she could have rigged a crane to transfer aircraft between her hangar and her flight deck, but she didn't, so would only be able to rely on what she could deck park. Add that with several heat stressed frames, two missing 5-inch dual turrets, and the signs of severe corrosion her engineers had just discovered in boiler four, and Trinitite didn't feel combat ready in the slightest.
So, she needed a drydock and a major overhaul, but that would require both resources and time. Trinitite had neither, which is why she'd put off seriously planning a refit until now. How could she even begin without a repair bath?
She groaned again, shoving the blankets that were pressing in on her away as she tried to put the thoughts of that out of her mind, as well. That was a problem for a better-rested Wo, as well. She tried to clear her head, squeezing her eyes shut and focusing on the chirping of insects and croaking of frogs outside… only for Alex's distressed visage to once again appear in the darkness..
Deep, work in the morning was going to be difficult.
- - -
The hotel room was as dark as it could be, street light flooding through the thin curtains to lend the ceiling a golden glow. The television was nothing more than a dark rectangle in Katie's vision, but in her mind's eye the screen was alive with activity.
The scene started with a simple framing shot, fading in to be filled with the 'Jack in the Box' sign. From there, it panned past the building she had become well acquainted with, to the sleek, shiny form of Brad's Civic. As soon as his Ex's sedan finished its abrupt halt, its door swung open to reveal the machiavellian Lieutenant Commander. Most of the times she'd imagined it, Brad was wearing civilian clothes, sometimes she was in the ridiculous rancher getup she saw him wear a few times, but this time she pictured the bastard in full dress whites, buttons glinting in the sunlight as he strode into the fast food restaurant.
On her imaginary screen, the view cut to the inside of the restaurant, the officer's eyes scanning the building with a glare as he strode through the glass door. The glare settled on Katie, who casually smiled and waved.
"Where is she?"
"Why don't you get some food first?" She'd motion towards the counter, where the abyssal herself was tending guests. Katie could imagine her ex's perpetually neutral expression cracking as he realized just how close he was to the monster. With a little sleight of hand, and with a dramatic flair of music, Brad would look back to see Katie holding a manilla envelope.
The detective pulled herself out of her fantasy for long enough to glance at the folder, a discolored patch on her bedside table. The heavy folder was the result of thorough research into not only Trinitite, but most humans she regularly spoke with. Assembling a dossier on everyone from Trinitite's coworkers to the acquaintances she played wargames with on Fridays and Saturdays had been no small task, and almost the entire weekend had been spent on compiling and printing her reports.
Besides the sheaf of reports she was handing her Ex, she'd made a pair of copies: One would remain in her car, easily accessible by her, while the other had already vanished into the postage system. If anything went wrong, then Katie always had an insurance policy, tucked away in a Winnemucca PO box she'd rented years earlier. She was no programmer, but writing up a little script to point a few reporters to the evidence if she was arrested hadn't been that difficult.
One way or another, the monster would be caught, Brad would be humiliated, and she'd become a national hero.
The glow of her phone filled the room as she quickly turned it on, checking her messaging app despite knowing she should be trying to sleep instead.
Meet me here at 1:00 tomorrow. Make sure Nashville isn't nearby.
The text had been made hours ago, just before she got dinner. Murray had tried to call her a moment later, but Katie had… 'forgotten' to pick up. The Feds would know plenty tomorrow.
OK.
Beyond the missed call, that was the only reply Katie got from Brad. It was more than enough, though. The detective could imagine her ex's vehicle careening up California and Oregon highways, the psychopath grinding his teeth as he made frantic nighttime phone calls to everyone in his bloated team of suits and uniforms.
All while she was resting comfortably in her hotel room, sleeping soundly.
Trying to sleep soundly.
Huffing, Katie grabbed one of the provided pillows and placed it over her eyes. No matter how great it was to imagine Brad's distress, she knew seeing it would be so much sweeter, and she had to be well-rested to enjoy it fully.
"Thank you!" He chirped. "...but I selected a place randomly."
The barbeque restaurant had given them several foam to-go boxes, their warmth seeping into Trinitite's lap as they drove. Alex was currently searching for somewhere to park the vehicle so he could eat, the pair finishing dinner before they completed the voyage home. She'd initially wanted to wait until they'd parked before she started eating, but that had been before the pair had left the restaurant, entering the car and locking her in with the thick, sweet, enticing aroma of pulled pork. The overwhelming musk of the meat colluded with her constantly complaining supply division to break her resolve, but thankfully Alex only chuckled when she popped one of the to-go boxes open and started eating.
The vehicle started to slow, bleeding speed until Alex took the car into a smooth turn. Trinitite had to abort her resupply as the new road twisted and turned, carrying the vehicle up a mountain sideroad's twists and turns until they finally found a place to pull over.
The rain that had accompanied them at the museum had departed, the cloudfront highlighted in brilliant oranges and pinks as it drifted eastward. A break in the trees ahead of them revealed forest-carpeted hills, their sharp peaks highlighted in the setting sun. Trinitite was tempted to roll down the windows to feel the evening breeze, but that would vent the delicious smell of meat so they remained shut.
The engine died, the abyssal handed Alex his meal, and the pair ate in silence. As far as human food went, the pulled pork had a kind of simplistic elegance to it: shredded meat, prepared in such a way that all the customer had to do was dip it in some sauce before eating it. Trinitite had expected it to taste pretty simple, too- in fact, she'd been looking forward to some basic meat- but the restaurant had managed to cook several different rich, deep flavors into the flesh. If she had to relate the taste to anything, it would be some kind of burning wood, but that couldn't be right, could it?
That was before the barbecue's rich flavor was complemented by the many sauces that had been supplied. They'd come in a collection of plastic cups, Trinitite's selection carefully segregated from Alex's. The abyssal had no interest in inadvertently trying one of the 'hot' sauces.
As with any sauce, their flavor was far too strong, but that was intentional. With a careful dip, however, the Wo-class could balance the bold tang of the sauce with the deep flavor of the pulled pork, with one exception.
"...you don't like the Carolina sauce?" Alex asked, accepting the cup of golden liquid the Wo-class offered her.
"It's a little too strong." Trinitite explained, uncertain how to elaborate further. It wasn't spicy, but…
"Sarah, it's basically mustard." He teased, shaking his head as he offered one of his sauce cups to the abyssal. "I'll trade this one for it, I guess."
Trinitite eyed the cup wearily.
"It's not the hot sauce you procured, is it?"
"No." Alex answered, before a mischievous glint crept into his features. "...probably not."
Trinitite recoiled, shying away from the cup as if it was explosive.
"Well- test it, then!"
Rolling his eyes, Alex placed the cup back on the lid of his box, popping the lid open for long enough to dip a few strands of pork in the liquid and taking a bite. Trinitite watched him chew, looking for any sign of discomfort, but none appeared as he nodded and offered Trinitite the cup of sauce.
"Didn't you say you were going to work on trust issues?" He teased.
"This is different." The abyssal muttered, accepting the cup of sauce and returning to her meal. Thankfully, Alex wasn't lying, the sauce she traded for being pleasantly sweet.
Half an hour passed, the supply of meat and sauce slowly depleting as the pair focused on eating. Soon, both were sitting with almost empty containers,
"So, Sarah…" he led, closing his now-empty to-go box with a click. "...what do you know about Thanksgiving?"
"I… know it's this week." She started. "I forgot the day."
"You know about the feast everyone has?"
"No…" Trinitite started, before a memory abruptly returned to her. "Wait, yeah, you told me about it earlier, right?"
"I did, yeah." He nodded. "You said you were looking forward to it, right?
"Absolutely." Trinitite added. "Lots of food up at your grandparents place, right?"
"Yup." He confirmed, rubbing the back of his head. "Would you…" he paused, rangefinders flicking to the hills in front of them. "...would you care to join me?"
"I'd love to!" Trinitite announced, before an issue occurred to her. "...but I want to be able to help with the food."
"You don't have to."
"I should."
"Of course." Alex smiled. "That's why I love you."
Alex… loved her?
The Wo-class wanted to say something, thank him, or something, but as pressure spiked in her steam system and on-duty crew paused their work, words failed her. Her mother loved her. Her old fleetmates loved her. There was nobody else beyond that, and the abyssal had assumed that would never change, but…
Alex loved her. Despite many reasons to believe the contrary, Trinitite knew he was telling the truth.
"I mean-" Alex stuttered, jarring Trinitite out of her indecision. Before the human could continue, she forced some kind of statement into the air.
"Thank you." She interjected, leaning forwards as she scrambled to say something. "I… I think I love you too."
Was that true? Trinitite had no idea. This was different from her relationship with Mother or her sisters, but it was a lot more than simply an acquaintance, or even the small number of ships from other fleets she'd grown to admire. She needed to explore this further.
Alex's face grew in Trinitite's vision, and the abyssal abruptly realized how much they both were leaning over the console in the center of the vehicle.
"Ah, where are we going to take this?" Alex muttered, the space between the two momentarily growing.
"I don't know." The Wo-class replied.
For a second, they simply stared at each other, before Alex's hand awkwardly rose to rest on Trinitite's shoulder. Gently, it nudged the abyssal closer, as her boyfriend shifted to lean into her.
This… was a kiss. Trinitite had read about them, recognized them from both the movie Alex had shown him and his parents, but hadn't looked too deeply into them. She hadn't thought something like this would come up yet! Still, the aircraft carrier found herself leaning into the pull. She needed to explore this further.
Trinitite couldn't hear anything, save for the pounding roar of her running turbines. Alex was inches away from her. She could see every splash of color in his eyes, smell the barbeque he'd just eaten, feel the heat of his breath on her lips-
The heat!
Alex's hand hardly provided any resistance as the abyssal jerked away from the newly discovered threat, reason and panic suddenly overwhelming… whatever it was that had been controlling her. The food they'd been eating had long cooled to the twilight's falling temperatures, and so had she. Like any engine, humans ran hotter than the environment around them, which was why the abyssal had always been so careful to avoid skin-to-skin contact. Any human who touched her would immediately realize how much colder she was, compared to other humans, and that would obviously require some sort of explanation.
She had none.
Looking up at Alex, Trinitite realized an explanation was needed anyways. She didn't know if shock, or fear or betrayal was behind the pain etched into his features, but they made the carrier feel like multiple compartments had been breached by ice.
Trinitite had just really hurt Alex. She wanted to say something- to speak up and reassure him that it wasn't his fault, but what could she say? That she was an abyssal? Learning that she'd been deceiving him would only hurt him more. Her mouth was hanging open. She tried to force it to form some words of comfort, but none came to her mind.
Like always, Alex finally spoke first.
"Sarah… I'm so sorry." he started, the shock on his face fading to a sick unease as he leaned back in the driver's seat. Shaking hands started fumbling with the steering wheel, grasping unsteadily for the keys hanging out of the car's ignition. "I was being too pushy, and-"
"It's not your fault!" Trinitite shouted, and the human froze. When he finally looked back at Trinitite, the abyssal had finally determined something to say. "I still think I love you, but…"
She trailed off, once again colliding with the problem of not really having an excuse.
"...but we were moving too fast." Alex said, dejected. "I didn't mean to try and take things there, Sarah. I don't know what I was thinking."
The car roared to life, a gust of air escaping the vents to wash off Trinitite's bridge.
"I guess." She lied. "Don't blame yourself, though."
It was a very quiet drive home.
- - -
It was Monday, now.
Outside the vehicle that had become the Wo-class's berthing, it would be impossible to tell. The windows were just as dark as they'd been fifteen minutes ago. The muffled sounds of insects outside hadn't changed, and while the skies were clear, glare from nearby streetlights hid the stars from Trinitite, frustrating any attempt to read them. The fact that sleep had evaded her for several hours now was only known to the Wo-class via her internal chronometer, the device taunting her as her navigation officer continued to provide her with updates.
Normally, she had no problem sleeping. Now, she'd been constantly tossing and turning, the carrier who normally didn't find any issue with a branch or concrete suddenly unable to find a comfortable position on the air mattress and normally-inviting pillow.
It obviously wasn't an issue with the bedding. Every time the Wo-class closed her eyes, Alex's shocked face filled her vision. Worry gnawed at every wire, pipe and bunk in the carrier, keeping rest well outside her reach. The problem of Alex continued to turn over and over in her head, worsening with every hour of sleep she lost.
He was going to try to initiate a kiss again. Part of her hoped he'd try again, even though such a scenario would lead to disaster again. She didn't fully understand what had occurred- Trinitite hadn't been able to focus when she just tried to research it further- but if it did happen again, she needed a solution. If Trinitite could get some sort of consistent and concealable heat source, she might be okay, but that would require a lot of research time and money!
That wasn't the only issue. A kiss would smear her makeup, possibly exposing the steel-gray lying under the red gloss. Albinism might explain white skin, but they still had red, human blood to color their lips. Trinitite, again, would have no explanation if Alex asked about it. She could switch to gray lipstick, she guessed, but how could she explain that?
…and what if she did convincingly kiss Alex? Dating was still a huge mystery to her, but it wasn't inconceivable for it to happen again, and again, with little-to-no warning. What if things went further? Trinitite still didn't know what had come over her in the car earlier, but the thought of it happening again was terrifying. What if Trinitite found herself in a jeopardizing position before rationality could reassert itself?
She needed to either call off the date negotiations or finally reveal her nature to Alex. The first would shatter the trust they had and ruin the relationship she had with someone she… someone she loved, while the latter would do the exact same thing. Why had she thought this 'date' thing had been a good idea?
Groaning in frustration and exhaustion, the abyssal rolled in her sheets. No matter what course she picked, she could only see disaster! She needed to put the decision off until her exhaustion was no longer clouding her thoughts, but that required her to get some deep-damned sleep!
She didn't even know why she was so tired. She'd been too excited about the date last night to get much sleep, sure, but she could normally go for much longer without having to rest.
…maybe she didn't have to rest now. It shouldn't be this difficult! She really wanted to, though. She had to go to work in the morning, and the idea of confronting customers feeling like this was not appealing.
She shifted again, and the pale-blue glow of her phone filled the vehicle's interior. She needed something else to think about, something important enough to take her mind off the issue, but with less terrible stakes. After she'd let the problem sit for a little bit, she'd get back to the Alex situation.
Open Source Sailor
She wasn't really expecting to find Mother. Trinitite had spent two weeks scouring this website with sparse results, but the intelligence she had gained in the meantime had always been fascinating. The fleets that normally gave humanity war news obviously couldn't be trusted: they were only being told what The Navy wanted them to hear. The thousands of enthusiastic humans scattered around the world's coasts didn't have a complete picture either, but the abyssal could fill some gaps with her own memories to get updates on the situation in the pacific.
For example, apparently humanity saw the big southern offensive coming, because several shipgirls were appearing in towns all across Australia. A lot of threads discussing 'new shipgirls' weren't new at all, simply ones the photographer hadn't recognized.
Thus, when she read a thread titled 'New US Carrier in Tokyo,' the Wo-class felt only a flicker of hope. On top of that, she didn't quite remember where Tokyo was, although she'd heard the name before. That didn't bode too well…
The Wo-class blinked, hard, trying to banish the sudden return of negativity as she opened the thread.
Hello OSS.
Apologies for poor english, I started learning when the war started.
My friend and I were in Ginza, Tokyo when we spotted a group of kansen. We followed them to a local bar and took a couple pictures, and didn't recognize all of them. We think they are all carriers, but are not sure.
We recognized all of them as JMSDF carriers, except for the foreign looking one. We think she's US, but are not sure.
SPOILER: Images
'JMSDF…' that fleet was based out of Japan, wasn't it? On the other side of the pacific? If her Mother was over there…
Almost on its own accord, a shivering finger tapped the box, the spoiler expanding to reveal a painfully familiar face. Saratoga, her mother, was sitting in the center, smiling serenely as she listened to the ships around her.
The Japanese ships.
On the other side of the Pacific.
She'd been badly damaged. She'd been hunted from the air, land, and sea. She'd been forced to hide, lie, and steal, and now lived every day in fear of arousing suspicion or hurting someone… just to be on the wrong damn continent!
She wanted to scream, to summon her rigging and lash out at anything, but doing something like that here would be self-destructive. Instead, she rolled in her sheets, burying her face in her pillow to dab away the sting of gathering tears. Had they moved Saratoga once they realized she'd made it to America, or had she always been searching an empty grid? If they knew she was trying to find her mother, they could keep her there indefinitely, or move her to Hawaii or Australia or Europe or back here if they noticed her trying to get to Japan.
Japan…
Getting to the United States had almost gotten her sunk, but in hindsight she'd been more than simply lucky. They hadn't been expecting her commandeering of a civilian vessel, a tactic humanity no-doubt had a counter to now. The JMSDF had been overwhelming in the battle of Bikini, and attempts to attack the islands had claimed entire fleets, as the twisted form of The Crane Princess that had been conversing with her mother could attest.
If she wanted to go to Japan, she'd have to do something incredibly unorthodox, like… getting to Alaska, somehow, jumping the strait between Asia and the Americas, sneaking through Russia, and attempting to dash from Russia to Japan. It would require a lot more research to see if it was feasible, but already the Wo-class could tell it was a desperate, stupid plan. Especially if she hadn't repaired herself yet.
She groaned, familiar aches and pains suddenly brought into focus. There was no question: she couldn't go out to sea again in this state. Her crew had done everything they could by this point: Her deck had been patched and reenforced well enough to launch and recover aircraft, but both of her elevators were still damaged beyond repair. If she'd had one of those side elevators her sisters had, she could have rigged a crane to transfer aircraft between her hangar and her flight deck, but she didn't, so would only be able to rely on what she could deck park. Add that with several heat stressed frames, two missing 5-inch dual turrets, and the signs of severe corrosion her engineers had just discovered in boiler four, and Trinitite didn't feel combat ready in the slightest.
So, she needed a drydock and a major overhaul, but that would require both resources and time. Trinitite had neither, which is why she'd put off seriously planning a refit until now. How could she even begin without a repair bath?
She groaned again, shoving the blankets that were pressing in on her away as she tried to put the thoughts of that out of her mind, as well. That was a problem for a better-rested Wo, as well. She tried to clear her head, squeezing her eyes shut and focusing on the chirping of insects and croaking of frogs outside… only for Alex's distressed visage to once again appear in the darkness..
Deep, work in the morning was going to be difficult.
- - -
The hotel room was as dark as it could be, street light flooding through the thin curtains to lend the ceiling a golden glow. The television was nothing more than a dark rectangle in Katie's vision, but in her mind's eye the screen was alive with activity.
The scene started with a simple framing shot, fading in to be filled with the 'Jack in the Box' sign. From there, it panned past the building she had become well acquainted with, to the sleek, shiny form of Brad's Civic. As soon as his Ex's sedan finished its abrupt halt, its door swung open to reveal the machiavellian Lieutenant Commander. Most of the times she'd imagined it, Brad was wearing civilian clothes, sometimes she was in the ridiculous rancher getup she saw him wear a few times, but this time she pictured the bastard in full dress whites, buttons glinting in the sunlight as he strode into the fast food restaurant.
On her imaginary screen, the view cut to the inside of the restaurant, the officer's eyes scanning the building with a glare as he strode through the glass door. The glare settled on Katie, who casually smiled and waved.
"Where is she?"
"Why don't you get some food first?" She'd motion towards the counter, where the abyssal herself was tending guests. Katie could imagine her ex's perpetually neutral expression cracking as he realized just how close he was to the monster. With a little sleight of hand, and with a dramatic flair of music, Brad would look back to see Katie holding a manilla envelope.
The detective pulled herself out of her fantasy for long enough to glance at the folder, a discolored patch on her bedside table. The heavy folder was the result of thorough research into not only Trinitite, but most humans she regularly spoke with. Assembling a dossier on everyone from Trinitite's coworkers to the acquaintances she played wargames with on Fridays and Saturdays had been no small task, and almost the entire weekend had been spent on compiling and printing her reports.
Besides the sheaf of reports she was handing her Ex, she'd made a pair of copies: One would remain in her car, easily accessible by her, while the other had already vanished into the postage system. If anything went wrong, then Katie always had an insurance policy, tucked away in a Winnemucca PO box she'd rented years earlier. She was no programmer, but writing up a little script to point a few reporters to the evidence if she was arrested hadn't been that difficult.
One way or another, the monster would be caught, Brad would be humiliated, and she'd become a national hero.
The glow of her phone filled the room as she quickly turned it on, checking her messaging app despite knowing she should be trying to sleep instead.
Meet me here at 1:00 tomorrow. Make sure Nashville isn't nearby.
The text had been made hours ago, just before she got dinner. Murray had tried to call her a moment later, but Katie had… 'forgotten' to pick up. The Feds would know plenty tomorrow.
OK.
Beyond the missed call, that was the only reply Katie got from Brad. It was more than enough, though. The detective could imagine her ex's vehicle careening up California and Oregon highways, the psychopath grinding his teeth as he made frantic nighttime phone calls to everyone in his bloated team of suits and uniforms.
All while she was resting comfortably in her hotel room, sleeping soundly.
Trying to sleep soundly.
Huffing, Katie grabbed one of the provided pillows and placed it over her eyes. No matter how great it was to imagine Brad's distress, she knew seeing it would be so much sweeter, and she had to be well-rested to enjoy it fully.
...it's kind of scary how much fun writers have torturing their characters. That... isn't just me, right?
Anyways, we draw one chapter closer to the end of the arc. Hopefully I can wrap it up before I fly out, but I can't make any grantees. This was a lot more mental torture of our poor Wo, kind of pushing the edges of her psyche a little bit more. I'm definitely looking forwards to pushing a little more in the next chapter... or the chapter coming after the interlude, if the Murray PoV section ends up being a little too long to just be part of a chapter. At the beginning I had made an internal rule to never write from his perspective, but rules are meant to be broken, right? Hopefully that also means there'll be plenty of stuff to explore, especially since I want to get the Feds out of the bleachers in the next arc.
Anyways, we draw one chapter closer to the end of the arc. Hopefully I can wrap it up before I fly out, but I can't make any grantees. This was a lot more mental torture of our poor Wo, kind of pushing the edges of her psyche a little bit more. I'm definitely looking forwards to pushing a little more in the next chapter... or the chapter coming after the interlude, if the Murray PoV section ends up being a little too long to just be part of a chapter. At the beginning I had made an internal rule to never write from his perspective, but rules are meant to be broken, right? Hopefully that also means there'll be plenty of stuff to explore, especially since I want to get the Feds out of the bleachers in the next arc.
RadiantPhoenix
Trudging up the Hill
- Location
- USA, Earth
- Pronouns
- She/Her
So she's fucking around and deliberately setting herself and everyone else up for a disaster because she can't look past her hatred for Murray?
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Poor Wo-bote, dealing with emotions is probably harder than the navy.
Definitely have an oof for Alex. I know I wouldn't guess "worried about abyssalness getting discovered" for how that went bad.
Also I feel like glee from torturing characters fuels like 90% of all fanfics, so you're in good company there hah.
Definitely have an oof for Alex. I know I wouldn't guess "worried about abyssalness getting discovered" for how that went bad.
Also I feel like glee from torturing characters fuels like 90% of all fanfics, so you're in good company there hah.
- Location
- America
poor Trin.
Also
*deep breath*
Katie.
Katie wAHT THE FHUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU.
DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND THE AMOUNT OF RISK YOU ARE PUTTING YOURSELF IN HERE WHAT THE FUUUUUUU-
Also
*deep breath*
Katie.
Katie wAHT THE FHUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU.
DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND THE AMOUNT OF RISK YOU ARE PUTTING YOURSELF IN HERE WHAT THE FUUUUUUU-
RadiantPhoenix
Trudging up the Hill
- Location
- USA, Earth
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Avoiding this disaster is going hinge on a couple things, in escalating order of importance:
"Where's the Kaboom? There was supposed to be an Earth-shattering kaboom!"
- The Navy actually wants Trinitite as an ally
- Trinitite doesn't actually want a fight.
"Where's the Kaboom? There was supposed to be an Earth-shattering kaboom!"
