We Just Write
Blatantly Plural
- Location
- New England
- Pronouns
- Plural
C: Trin's too injured to win a fight with another Abyssal.
All Wo-rk and No Play: An Abyssal's Trials in the Job Market (KC)
- Thread starter PyrrhicSteel
- Start date
Martin Bajar - An Early Destroyer Reunion
An early destroyer Reunion
With there being over half a year until the next World Destroyer Jamboree (the last one having been in Amsterdam, last March). Fubuki hadn't expected in the least for an I-class to suddenly approach her under a flag of truce. And how or why was the SHIPGIRL HMAS Vampire with the I-class?
"How or what?" Fubuki was unsure what was going on.
"There is a lone Wo-class loose in the United States", Vampire explained, "a carrier without an escort. We're informing all fleets."
"Obviously we have already told the Princesses that if they ever want an escort again, they'd have to suck it up and accept there is a truce now", the I-class added.
"Our initial thought was to contact destroyers of all fleets, who can then spread the word among the other destroyers in their fleets", Vampire continued, "can you ask some of the Japanese Fletchers to inform the Americans? We can then have all destroyers not currently attached to a capital ship to search for the carrier. She's an Essex variant named Trinitite if that helps. Then we have volunteers attach themselves to her as escorts. The British already promised to inform the other Europeans."
"After all, no carrier should ever be without her escorts", the I-class quoted one of the main tenets of the Destroyer CreedTM, "given that she's in hiding, it might be best to primarily use the destroyers who have taken Abraham Crijnssen's Camouflage Workshop during the last Jamboree."
When the task force found out about the sheer amount of destroyers running rampant throughout the United States in search of the lone carrier. Nashville seemed unsurprised, "did you really expect anything else from the destroyers?"
With there being over half a year until the next World Destroyer Jamboree (the last one having been in Amsterdam, last March). Fubuki hadn't expected in the least for an I-class to suddenly approach her under a flag of truce. And how or why was the SHIPGIRL HMAS Vampire with the I-class?
"How or what?" Fubuki was unsure what was going on.
"There is a lone Wo-class loose in the United States", Vampire explained, "a carrier without an escort. We're informing all fleets."
"Obviously we have already told the Princesses that if they ever want an escort again, they'd have to suck it up and accept there is a truce now", the I-class added.
"Our initial thought was to contact destroyers of all fleets, who can then spread the word among the other destroyers in their fleets", Vampire continued, "can you ask some of the Japanese Fletchers to inform the Americans? We can then have all destroyers not currently attached to a capital ship to search for the carrier. She's an Essex variant named Trinitite if that helps. Then we have volunteers attach themselves to her as escorts. The British already promised to inform the other Europeans."
"After all, no carrier should ever be without her escorts", the I-class quoted one of the main tenets of the Destroyer CreedTM, "given that she's in hiding, it might be best to primarily use the destroyers who have taken Abraham Crijnssen's Camouflage Workshop during the last Jamboree."
When the task force found out about the sheer amount of destroyers running rampant throughout the United States in search of the lone carrier. Nashville seemed unsurprised, "did you really expect anything else from the destroyers?"
Last edited:
90: Underway
PyrrhicSteel
Look natural.
- Location
- Idaho
Trinitite liked to imagine that, in the times before the war, the Newport Marina had looked like this. As the four dockworkers scuttled over the pier and shouted across the mooring lines with Richard and the rest of the Lady Gollerus's deckhands, the Abyssal couldn't help but glance at the rest of the destitute fleet surrounding them.
Was The Lady a glimmer of hope to the destitute ships around her, or an object of envy? She'd kept track of the moored fleet, and had noticed two or three other boats appearing and disappearing. Not many compared to the mass of neglected shipping, but it meant there had to be some hope for the little marina, right?
"Three, two, one, HEAVE!"
The shout drifted from the pier, oddly muted in the slim rain, and the end of the last line drifted up from the dockhands. Tono, the boat's cook, was there to catch it, expertly reeling the slack line in until they had a disorganized pile on the deck.
And with that, they were underway.
The opportunity to leave had long passed. Trinitite considered herself committed the moment she'd used The Lady Gollerus's berthing. Still, the moment where The Lady physically parted from the pier stuck in her mind, reverberating in her thoughts like the solemn toll of a bell.
This was it. Ten days, trapped aboard a tiny boat in close contact with seven other humans.
This is a good idea. She reminded herself. What was that phrase I heard? 'Nothing ventured, nothing gained?'
Human parables did little to ease the gnawing sense of dread that rumbled like a failing pump in her lower decks. The tedious task of securing the loose mooring line to the bollards did more to ease her concerns than any platitudes she could think of.
"Nervous?"
The Wo-class jumped slightly. With the mooring lines firmly secured, she didn't have anything else she needed to immediately do. The majority of the small detail they'd assembled for line handling had dissolved almost immediately, save for one other human.
Trinitite didn't know much about anyone aboard The Lady, but Tono Marcello stood out insomuch as it seemed like that lack of knowledge could be dangerous. From the way he coolly assessed Trinitite for a split second before smiling and politely introducing himself, to the way he seemed to settle in spots that gave him a view of everything in the compartment, to the simple way he stood. The man carried himself like a veteran… something.
This wasn't the undisguised interest of Sern, back at the construction site, or Clifton's lingering, half-hidden gaze. It was much more impersonal, directed at Kay as well, and occasionally some of the other members of the crew.
The gaze was analytical, impersonal, and almost independent of the cook's soft voice and relaxed smile. The Wo-class didn't know what it was, and because of that it worried her.
Now, he was standing beside her, and Trinitite didn't know if that had been intentional or if she'd simply been too distracted by the receding pier to notice.
"Ye- yeah." She stuttered, still off-guard.
"First time sailing?" The mysterious human asked, an eyebrow raising.
"No." Trinitite shook her head. "But I haven't been on the water since…"
She suddenly found herself at a loss for words. What should she say? 'Since I escaped?' 'Since the war started?' 'Allison' retained the story of fleeing from abyssals her previous identities had, but because it was so similar Trinitite wanted to draw as little attention to it as possible.
"Ah." The human's understanding nod saved Trinitite from having to decide. "Well, I can't guarantee anything about our safety, of course. Now that the military and civil air patrol have to cover Hawaii as well, I bet we'll be getting sparser coverage than normal, even for this short trip."
The abyssal stiffened, the receding calls of seabirds and rumble of cars getting suddenly quieter. With the fall of Central and impending push towards Australia, she was certain that this was the perfect opportunity. However, that split attention went both ways, didn't it?
"I… hadn't thought about it like that."
Tono chuckled, a long, ragged line on his cheek shifting as he smiled. "Don't worry. You probably won't have to worry about them."
"What do you mean?"
"The Civil Air Patrol aren't going anywhere, and with the Trinitite situation, I bet most of the P8s are still watching these waters."
"P8s?" The Wo-class echoed, hoping the human hadn't noticed the subtle wince at the mention of her real name. Best to keep the focus on other matters.
"P8 Poseidons. Those are the new patrol aircraft. You're aware how the MAD gear most patrol aircraft have doesn't work on abyssal submarines, right?"
"I wasn't." The Wo-class quietly added 'Mad gear' to her research list.
"Well, these new Poseidons don't bother carrying them. Instead, they're equipped with some of the most powerful surface search radars on the planet."
The abyssal couldn't conceal her surprise.
"Radar? For submarines? Does it look for snorkels?"
"It could," The human started, bouncing on his feet, "but no."
Trinitite's brow furrowed, the physics quietly rattling through her suddenly-occupied command staff.
"I mean… I suppose you could make a set powerful enough to penetrate the ocean, but besides the power draw refraction problems would make it way too inaccurate for targeting-"
The human laughed again, this time with much more intensity.
"No- in fifty years, we might have something like that, but it's a lot more clever than that: it looks for waves."
The abyssal frowned, rangefinders trailing from the shrinking coastal village to the growing swath of ocean the harbor's pilot was putting between them and the pier.
"Like a wake?"
"Exactly."
"...so it looks for the wakes of snorkels."
"Not just that." Tono was still smiling. "These aircraft can scan hundreds of miles of waves, then use the AI aboard to calculate what's natural, and what's coming from a ship, whale, or submarine… even a submerged one."
A second passed. The abyssal tried to visualize the amazing feat Tono had described to her, of miniscule ripples in a chaotic, rolling sea somehow betraying a lurking submarine to a loitering aircraft. She'd heard the term 'AI' before, and knew it was related to computers. She knew human computers were capable of amazing things, so far ahead of her mechanical firing computer that the idea that they shared the same name felt like a farce. That theoretically, a cruising submarine did leave a ripple on the surface of the water above. Theoretically, it was possible, and the carrier loved the idea of a magical aircraft that could warn a carrier like herself of any of those… unnatural stalkers trailing or creeping up on her, but…
She shook her head. It was all way too good to be true. There was no way a radar set with that much range and fidelity could share space with a computer that powerful on an aircraft. Human technology was good, but it had failed to catch her on her way to the coast until it was too late, and she wasn't even submerged. There was no way the humans could have a capability like that while their war with her kind remained so inconclusive, unless these 'Poseidons' were so expensive only a dozen or so existed.
"Impossible." The Wo-class pronounced.
"If you think so." The human seemed unbothered, hands resting in his pockets. "From what I've heard it works pretty well, even against abyssals."
"Who even told you that?" The carrier couldn't help but ask. Someone who was secretly navy wouldn't dare talk about this kind of thing, right?
"This kind of stuff interests me." Tono shrugged. "The Hunt for Red October was one of the first books I read while learning english."
"The what?"
"Hunt for Red October." The human completed. "If you run out of things to interest you on your phone, you can borrow the copy I brought aboard."
"Ah." Trinitite hummed, still unsure how any of that related to the outrageous claim he'd made. "Thank you."
"Anyways…" the human picked up again. "You'll be helping me prepare dinner tonight. Meet me in the kitchen in two hours."
"Kitchen, two hours, aye." Trinitite echoed. The human took the acknowledgement in stride, casually waving as he entered the ship.
The Wo-class was alone again. Forward, of course, she could see humans milling about through the bridge's windows, but they were clearly busy with their own duties.
The breeze picked up again, then gently fell, as if the ocean itself was restfully breathing. The soft rain pattered against the hood of her windbreaker, neither too light for her to forget or too heavy for her to ignore. The calling of seabirds gently faded, a handful following The Lady as she departed. The rumbling of the twin diesel engines traveled up her boots and gently teased her hull. The boat gently rose and fell, a frothy wake spreading away from the Lady Gollerous's keel and pointing towards the gently receding Newport.
This… this was nice. It wasn't what she made for, but she'd missed these sensations. The ocean was absolutely where she belonged.
It wasn't until seven hours later, while lying beneath the covers of her rack, when she realized the horrible mistake she'd made. Why in the deep would Allison, a random human girl, be interested in anti-submarine warfare? Why would she be knowledgeable enough about that subject to reject that ridiculous 'wake-hunting radar' claim?
Had Tono made up the P8 Poseidon just to see her reaction? Allison, the uninformed human, would have been awed and comforted by the story of the all-seeing patrol craft. Did Tono suspect her, now? He didn't seem to act that differently when she helped him later.
The sheets covering her suddenly felt far too thin. Worst of all, there was nothing she could do about it. Sleep evaded her until she finally wrestled her thoughts
The Hunt For Red October…
She was dying to know what that book was, but she'd be damned if she asked for it. Better wait until she was back ashore to figure out what that was…
- - -
Over the course of his long and storied career in the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Brandon Ferguson had taken several terrible jobs. There was the suspicious Chinese transfer student, son of a PLARF Colonel, who'd led Ferguson around for a better part of a year before his superiors finally decided the innocent aerospace student wasn't worth his time. There'd been the disgruntled wife of an Air Force Captain, who'd used gossip among officers' wives to leak a wealth of sensitive information to a contact in Belarus. That trial had been brutal.
This job, however, was easily the worst he had the displeasure of attaching his name to.
He had many issues. The Abyssal capitol ship, surprisingly, didn't rank in the top three. The Wo-class was right there, after all, and they could have scooped it up at any time in the last two weeks if…
Forget the media. Forget the panicked pressure from his superiors in the DOJ. The damn Navy was the source of almost every headache he'd felt since he'd been assigned this job.
Why in the hell did they trust former princesses? What about keeping the Trinitite situation secret was so important they'd rather cripple themselves with a jumped-up lieutenant and a cowboy PI than get help from professionals? Why the hell did they suddenly not want to catch the enemy agent, now that she was America's most wanted?
He'd worked with the navy before, through the NCIS, and they'd been fine then. What had changed?
A superficial answer, shipgirls, was an easy conclusion to jump to, but no doubt wrong. No… he'd seen enough spooked criminals, spies, and politicians to know where these kinds of mistakes came from.
Desperation.
It was sobering, a dark realization that had cost Ferguson several nights' sleep. Murray's reports on the war's situation were incredibly… convenient for him, but at the end of the day the decision to withhold the vitally needed shipgirl support had been from the men above him. He had no idea what that weasel might have reported to get that decision, but the fact remained that NORTHCOM had to have a lot on their plate if they were willing to let something as nationally traumatic as the issue of an abyssal on American soil rest for now.
A knock on the door to his new office abruptly drew his attention from his email.
"Door's open."
The secretary, a newcomer to the team after they'd moved into this Portland office, only opened the door enough to poke her head in.
"Brandon." She started. "They've gotten underway."
He could feel his knuckles tighten. There it was. The enemy warship had been allowed back on the water, where she could bring the full power of her weapons and air wing to bear. They were going out who-knows how far, potentially closer to an abyssal installation to any American bases, and the only forces they'd have in a crisis would be one irascible light cruiser.
Worst of all, there was no way he could have stopped this unacceptable situation, thanks to- he was thinking in circles.
"I see." The FBI agent nodded, his face flat. No doubt the information was already en route to the uniforms who'd moved to another floor in the building. "Thank you, Sherry."
"There's one other thing-" The secretary hesitated. "Miss Nashville is asking to see you."
Ferguson suppressed a sigh. The rift forming between the military and law enforcement was obvious even to the new blood they were bringing on. It was regrettable, of course, but unless he could find some way to get the Navy to cooperate…
"Send her in, then."
The light cruiser paused at his door, her sandy hair hanging in that loose, eye-obscuring style that contrasted sharply with her khaki office uniform. The way she scanned the office before entering… that sense of frustrated, indirect rage that seemed to radiate from her at all times was missing right now, replaced with something else.
"Mister Ferguson." Her voice still carried that cynical flatness he was used to, but her gaze seemed to be holding much less of her typical undisguised loathing than normal.
"Ensign." He started, motioning to the seat across his desk. "Why don't you sit down?"
The cruiser wordlessly complied, the cheap office chair creaking slightly as she eased herself into it,
"Can I get you anything?" He started, motioning to the Keurig in the corner of his bare office.
"I'm fine, but thank you." She nodded. A second passed in awkward silence.
"...Can I help you?" He finally ventured.
"Well…" The light cruiser paused, shoulders rising in a sigh. "We've been brainstorming various ways to bring this thing to an end."
"Okay." The FBI agent nodded, weary. Had Murray sent the light cruiser
"Well… when we were floating ideas, I came up with a plan. The Lieutenant Commander didn't think it was worth much consideration, but…" She looked back up from her desk, hair shifting enough so both eyes were visible, meeting Brandom's eyes. "...I think you need to know all of your options."
The FBI agent frowned. This… this didn't feel right. In military culture, jumping the chain of command like this wasn't unheard of, but it certainly wasn't viewed positively. That a shipgirl, one who'd spent well over three decades and her entire life marinating in military culture, suddenly decided to hop her organization's bureaucracy so she could contact a civilian she hated, was…
No, the warning signs had been there. Ever since he'd joined the project, it was clear the cruiser was frustrated. She spent as little time as possible with the other civilians on the team, something he'd chalked up to a snobbish military elitism, but perhaps her feelings were more… general than a simple hate for everyone that wore a suit instead of a uniform.
Perhaps it came from a feeling the Lieutenant Commander wasn't taking her seriously. Perhaps it was frustration at being pulled away from the front lines of a very close war. Perhaps, like him, she was angry with the fact this hadn't been resolved within the first week it came up. Either way, the problems the Lieutenant Commander had been ignoring had been marinating inside the Navy team… until now.
And now, two months of grievances had come to a head, Murray was starting to lose control of his people.
Couldn't have happened to a better man.
"Go ahead." He said, stomping down a sliver of vindictive pleasure from creeping into his voice.
The light cruiser sighed, then started explaining.
It… wasn't a good plan. Ferguson could think of several reasons why the Lieutenant Commander had shot it down, but it was something. Agent Ferguson was starting to think he'll have to take whatever he could get from the navy.
"I'll… consider it, Nashville."
"That's all I ask." The cruiser nodded, her face still blank. The light cruiser probably still hated him, but that she was able to set that aside to get this to him… She was clearly a bigger man than her superior.
"Thank you for bringing this to my attention." He said, opening his notepad and beginning to type out Nashville's plan. "Anything else?"
"That's all, sir."
"Alright." He nodded. "Have a good day, then."
Hopefully they could get this resolved before the plan was even achievable, but as a contingency…
Was The Lady a glimmer of hope to the destitute ships around her, or an object of envy? She'd kept track of the moored fleet, and had noticed two or three other boats appearing and disappearing. Not many compared to the mass of neglected shipping, but it meant there had to be some hope for the little marina, right?
"Three, two, one, HEAVE!"
The shout drifted from the pier, oddly muted in the slim rain, and the end of the last line drifted up from the dockhands. Tono, the boat's cook, was there to catch it, expertly reeling the slack line in until they had a disorganized pile on the deck.
And with that, they were underway.
The opportunity to leave had long passed. Trinitite considered herself committed the moment she'd used The Lady Gollerus's berthing. Still, the moment where The Lady physically parted from the pier stuck in her mind, reverberating in her thoughts like the solemn toll of a bell.
This was it. Ten days, trapped aboard a tiny boat in close contact with seven other humans.
This is a good idea. She reminded herself. What was that phrase I heard? 'Nothing ventured, nothing gained?'
Human parables did little to ease the gnawing sense of dread that rumbled like a failing pump in her lower decks. The tedious task of securing the loose mooring line to the bollards did more to ease her concerns than any platitudes she could think of.
"Nervous?"
The Wo-class jumped slightly. With the mooring lines firmly secured, she didn't have anything else she needed to immediately do. The majority of the small detail they'd assembled for line handling had dissolved almost immediately, save for one other human.
Trinitite didn't know much about anyone aboard The Lady, but Tono Marcello stood out insomuch as it seemed like that lack of knowledge could be dangerous. From the way he coolly assessed Trinitite for a split second before smiling and politely introducing himself, to the way he seemed to settle in spots that gave him a view of everything in the compartment, to the simple way he stood. The man carried himself like a veteran… something.
This wasn't the undisguised interest of Sern, back at the construction site, or Clifton's lingering, half-hidden gaze. It was much more impersonal, directed at Kay as well, and occasionally some of the other members of the crew.
The gaze was analytical, impersonal, and almost independent of the cook's soft voice and relaxed smile. The Wo-class didn't know what it was, and because of that it worried her.
Now, he was standing beside her, and Trinitite didn't know if that had been intentional or if she'd simply been too distracted by the receding pier to notice.
"Ye- yeah." She stuttered, still off-guard.
"First time sailing?" The mysterious human asked, an eyebrow raising.
"No." Trinitite shook her head. "But I haven't been on the water since…"
She suddenly found herself at a loss for words. What should she say? 'Since I escaped?' 'Since the war started?' 'Allison' retained the story of fleeing from abyssals her previous identities had, but because it was so similar Trinitite wanted to draw as little attention to it as possible.
"Ah." The human's understanding nod saved Trinitite from having to decide. "Well, I can't guarantee anything about our safety, of course. Now that the military and civil air patrol have to cover Hawaii as well, I bet we'll be getting sparser coverage than normal, even for this short trip."
The abyssal stiffened, the receding calls of seabirds and rumble of cars getting suddenly quieter. With the fall of Central and impending push towards Australia, she was certain that this was the perfect opportunity. However, that split attention went both ways, didn't it?
"I… hadn't thought about it like that."
Tono chuckled, a long, ragged line on his cheek shifting as he smiled. "Don't worry. You probably won't have to worry about them."
"What do you mean?"
"The Civil Air Patrol aren't going anywhere, and with the Trinitite situation, I bet most of the P8s are still watching these waters."
"P8s?" The Wo-class echoed, hoping the human hadn't noticed the subtle wince at the mention of her real name. Best to keep the focus on other matters.
"P8 Poseidons. Those are the new patrol aircraft. You're aware how the MAD gear most patrol aircraft have doesn't work on abyssal submarines, right?"
"I wasn't." The Wo-class quietly added 'Mad gear' to her research list.
"Well, these new Poseidons don't bother carrying them. Instead, they're equipped with some of the most powerful surface search radars on the planet."
The abyssal couldn't conceal her surprise.
"Radar? For submarines? Does it look for snorkels?"
"It could," The human started, bouncing on his feet, "but no."
Trinitite's brow furrowed, the physics quietly rattling through her suddenly-occupied command staff.
"I mean… I suppose you could make a set powerful enough to penetrate the ocean, but besides the power draw refraction problems would make it way too inaccurate for targeting-"
The human laughed again, this time with much more intensity.
"No- in fifty years, we might have something like that, but it's a lot more clever than that: it looks for waves."
The abyssal frowned, rangefinders trailing from the shrinking coastal village to the growing swath of ocean the harbor's pilot was putting between them and the pier.
"Like a wake?"
"Exactly."
"...so it looks for the wakes of snorkels."
"Not just that." Tono was still smiling. "These aircraft can scan hundreds of miles of waves, then use the AI aboard to calculate what's natural, and what's coming from a ship, whale, or submarine… even a submerged one."
A second passed. The abyssal tried to visualize the amazing feat Tono had described to her, of miniscule ripples in a chaotic, rolling sea somehow betraying a lurking submarine to a loitering aircraft. She'd heard the term 'AI' before, and knew it was related to computers. She knew human computers were capable of amazing things, so far ahead of her mechanical firing computer that the idea that they shared the same name felt like a farce. That theoretically, a cruising submarine did leave a ripple on the surface of the water above. Theoretically, it was possible, and the carrier loved the idea of a magical aircraft that could warn a carrier like herself of any of those… unnatural stalkers trailing or creeping up on her, but…
She shook her head. It was all way too good to be true. There was no way a radar set with that much range and fidelity could share space with a computer that powerful on an aircraft. Human technology was good, but it had failed to catch her on her way to the coast until it was too late, and she wasn't even submerged. There was no way the humans could have a capability like that while their war with her kind remained so inconclusive, unless these 'Poseidons' were so expensive only a dozen or so existed.
"Impossible." The Wo-class pronounced.
"If you think so." The human seemed unbothered, hands resting in his pockets. "From what I've heard it works pretty well, even against abyssals."
"Who even told you that?" The carrier couldn't help but ask. Someone who was secretly navy wouldn't dare talk about this kind of thing, right?
"This kind of stuff interests me." Tono shrugged. "The Hunt for Red October was one of the first books I read while learning english."
"The what?"
"Hunt for Red October." The human completed. "If you run out of things to interest you on your phone, you can borrow the copy I brought aboard."
"Ah." Trinitite hummed, still unsure how any of that related to the outrageous claim he'd made. "Thank you."
"Anyways…" the human picked up again. "You'll be helping me prepare dinner tonight. Meet me in the kitchen in two hours."
"Kitchen, two hours, aye." Trinitite echoed. The human took the acknowledgement in stride, casually waving as he entered the ship.
The Wo-class was alone again. Forward, of course, she could see humans milling about through the bridge's windows, but they were clearly busy with their own duties.
The breeze picked up again, then gently fell, as if the ocean itself was restfully breathing. The soft rain pattered against the hood of her windbreaker, neither too light for her to forget or too heavy for her to ignore. The calling of seabirds gently faded, a handful following The Lady as she departed. The rumbling of the twin diesel engines traveled up her boots and gently teased her hull. The boat gently rose and fell, a frothy wake spreading away from the Lady Gollerous's keel and pointing towards the gently receding Newport.
This… this was nice. It wasn't what she made for, but she'd missed these sensations. The ocean was absolutely where she belonged.
It wasn't until seven hours later, while lying beneath the covers of her rack, when she realized the horrible mistake she'd made. Why in the deep would Allison, a random human girl, be interested in anti-submarine warfare? Why would she be knowledgeable enough about that subject to reject that ridiculous 'wake-hunting radar' claim?
Had Tono made up the P8 Poseidon just to see her reaction? Allison, the uninformed human, would have been awed and comforted by the story of the all-seeing patrol craft. Did Tono suspect her, now? He didn't seem to act that differently when she helped him later.
The sheets covering her suddenly felt far too thin. Worst of all, there was nothing she could do about it. Sleep evaded her until she finally wrestled her thoughts
The Hunt For Red October…
She was dying to know what that book was, but she'd be damned if she asked for it. Better wait until she was back ashore to figure out what that was…
- - -
Over the course of his long and storied career in the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Brandon Ferguson had taken several terrible jobs. There was the suspicious Chinese transfer student, son of a PLARF Colonel, who'd led Ferguson around for a better part of a year before his superiors finally decided the innocent aerospace student wasn't worth his time. There'd been the disgruntled wife of an Air Force Captain, who'd used gossip among officers' wives to leak a wealth of sensitive information to a contact in Belarus. That trial had been brutal.
This job, however, was easily the worst he had the displeasure of attaching his name to.
He had many issues. The Abyssal capitol ship, surprisingly, didn't rank in the top three. The Wo-class was right there, after all, and they could have scooped it up at any time in the last two weeks if…
Forget the media. Forget the panicked pressure from his superiors in the DOJ. The damn Navy was the source of almost every headache he'd felt since he'd been assigned this job.
Why in the hell did they trust former princesses? What about keeping the Trinitite situation secret was so important they'd rather cripple themselves with a jumped-up lieutenant and a cowboy PI than get help from professionals? Why the hell did they suddenly not want to catch the enemy agent, now that she was America's most wanted?
He'd worked with the navy before, through the NCIS, and they'd been fine then. What had changed?
A superficial answer, shipgirls, was an easy conclusion to jump to, but no doubt wrong. No… he'd seen enough spooked criminals, spies, and politicians to know where these kinds of mistakes came from.
Desperation.
It was sobering, a dark realization that had cost Ferguson several nights' sleep. Murray's reports on the war's situation were incredibly… convenient for him, but at the end of the day the decision to withhold the vitally needed shipgirl support had been from the men above him. He had no idea what that weasel might have reported to get that decision, but the fact remained that NORTHCOM had to have a lot on their plate if they were willing to let something as nationally traumatic as the issue of an abyssal on American soil rest for now.
A knock on the door to his new office abruptly drew his attention from his email.
"Door's open."
The secretary, a newcomer to the team after they'd moved into this Portland office, only opened the door enough to poke her head in.
"Brandon." She started. "They've gotten underway."
He could feel his knuckles tighten. There it was. The enemy warship had been allowed back on the water, where she could bring the full power of her weapons and air wing to bear. They were going out who-knows how far, potentially closer to an abyssal installation to any American bases, and the only forces they'd have in a crisis would be one irascible light cruiser.
Worst of all, there was no way he could have stopped this unacceptable situation, thanks to- he was thinking in circles.
"I see." The FBI agent nodded, his face flat. No doubt the information was already en route to the uniforms who'd moved to another floor in the building. "Thank you, Sherry."
"There's one other thing-" The secretary hesitated. "Miss Nashville is asking to see you."
Ferguson suppressed a sigh. The rift forming between the military and law enforcement was obvious even to the new blood they were bringing on. It was regrettable, of course, but unless he could find some way to get the Navy to cooperate…
"Send her in, then."
The light cruiser paused at his door, her sandy hair hanging in that loose, eye-obscuring style that contrasted sharply with her khaki office uniform. The way she scanned the office before entering… that sense of frustrated, indirect rage that seemed to radiate from her at all times was missing right now, replaced with something else.
"Mister Ferguson." Her voice still carried that cynical flatness he was used to, but her gaze seemed to be holding much less of her typical undisguised loathing than normal.
"Ensign." He started, motioning to the seat across his desk. "Why don't you sit down?"
The cruiser wordlessly complied, the cheap office chair creaking slightly as she eased herself into it,
"Can I get you anything?" He started, motioning to the Keurig in the corner of his bare office.
"I'm fine, but thank you." She nodded. A second passed in awkward silence.
"...Can I help you?" He finally ventured.
"Well…" The light cruiser paused, shoulders rising in a sigh. "We've been brainstorming various ways to bring this thing to an end."
"Okay." The FBI agent nodded, weary. Had Murray sent the light cruiser
"Well… when we were floating ideas, I came up with a plan. The Lieutenant Commander didn't think it was worth much consideration, but…" She looked back up from her desk, hair shifting enough so both eyes were visible, meeting Brandom's eyes. "...I think you need to know all of your options."
The FBI agent frowned. This… this didn't feel right. In military culture, jumping the chain of command like this wasn't unheard of, but it certainly wasn't viewed positively. That a shipgirl, one who'd spent well over three decades and her entire life marinating in military culture, suddenly decided to hop her organization's bureaucracy so she could contact a civilian she hated, was…
No, the warning signs had been there. Ever since he'd joined the project, it was clear the cruiser was frustrated. She spent as little time as possible with the other civilians on the team, something he'd chalked up to a snobbish military elitism, but perhaps her feelings were more… general than a simple hate for everyone that wore a suit instead of a uniform.
Perhaps it came from a feeling the Lieutenant Commander wasn't taking her seriously. Perhaps it was frustration at being pulled away from the front lines of a very close war. Perhaps, like him, she was angry with the fact this hadn't been resolved within the first week it came up. Either way, the problems the Lieutenant Commander had been ignoring had been marinating inside the Navy team… until now.
And now, two months of grievances had come to a head, Murray was starting to lose control of his people.
Couldn't have happened to a better man.
"Go ahead." He said, stomping down a sliver of vindictive pleasure from creeping into his voice.
The light cruiser sighed, then started explaining.
It… wasn't a good plan. Ferguson could think of several reasons why the Lieutenant Commander had shot it down, but it was something. Agent Ferguson was starting to think he'll have to take whatever he could get from the navy.
"I'll… consider it, Nashville."
"That's all I ask." The cruiser nodded, her face still blank. The light cruiser probably still hated him, but that she was able to set that aside to get this to him… She was clearly a bigger man than her superior.
"Thank you for bringing this to my attention." He said, opening his notepad and beginning to type out Nashville's plan. "Anything else?"
"That's all, sir."
"Alright." He nodded. "Have a good day, then."
Hopefully they could get this resolved before the plan was even achievable, but as a contingency…
Surprise! Another chapter already! I was able to get this one out so fast because, while I'd been waiting to post the last chapter, I was able to get started on this chapter early. Don't expect the next one to come so soon.
Don't have too much to say beyond that. I hope that, unlike the Martin-Campos family, you have a good Thanksgiving my fellow Americans, and everyone else enjoys the upcoming holiday season!
Don't have too much to say beyond that. I hope that, unlike the Martin-Campos family, you have a good Thanksgiving my fellow Americans, and everyone else enjoys the upcoming holiday season!
- Location
- A Hopper painting
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Poor trinitite, those p8s are even scarier than she imagines, high enough to be (nearly) invulnerable to AAA and fast enough to outrun even the most modern (by kancolle standards) land based fighters in anything but a dive.
This line seems to just cut off here.
- Location
- Lost in the internet
Damn, Agent Tono's reference to the Hunt of the Red October was quite smart, a vessel sneaking to defect to the other side, hunted on all parts. Was it to put Trinitite in a right state of mind?
Brilliant update !
Brilliant update !
- Pronouns
- Reader
Imagine this, but right as Trinitite becomes an admiral, operation absolute railroad finally throws in the towel and decides that they need to just try and arrange a meeting between Saratoga and Trinitite, with trinitite being flown in to attend a briefing on Murrey's plan alongside the other admirals, and trinitite somehow ends up in charge of the entire thing. Comedy Gold.
Sushi!! He bought her SUSHI!!!
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- Pronouns
- Reader
It's so, so much worse than that. Her reveal has the possibility of detonating the situation in the most catastrophic manner possible, triggering a nation wide panic that will impact the war effort, and possibly even make it back to the Abyssal princesses if news reaches occupied islands. So much bad end potential wrapped up in one salty PI's capacity to hold a grudge. You have love when the faith of one idiot in his former partner quite possibly jeopardizes the entire war because he underestimated her lack of professionalism.
Yes! The shovel talk has arrived!
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91: Galley Negotiations
PyrrhicSteel
Look natural.
- Location
- Idaho
With a sudden creek, The deck abruptly pitched upwards. Trinitite felt her shoe unexpectedly caught on a door seal, her walk transforming into a stumble until her hand caught a nearby bulkhead. Had the Pacific Lilly been this unstable at sea? Perhaps she'd been too stressed by the missile destroyer to notice the waves.
It wasn't something she couldn't get used to, but the carrier was starting to understand the complaints of destroyers she'd often sailed with a little better.
After regaining her footing, the disguised abyssal continued down the passageway, bracing herself on the next door (a flimsy wooden one instead of the sparse watertight hatches the lady had) before The Lady dove into another harsh wave. Once the sudden movement had ended, the abyssal opened the door and steadily made her way through.
The galley was surprisingly empty. Every other time she'd visited here, there'd normally be two or three people here, chatting or messing with their phones, but now the table's only occupant was the red-headed Kay.
She looked up from her phone as Trinitite entered.
"You're up pretty late."
"Still need to eat."
"That makes two of us." She smiled. Her other hand lifted her fork out of a steaming bowl of ramen, noodles dangling from the steaming bundle entrapped in the plastic prongs. "Want one of these?"
A part of Trinitite wondered if there was a hidden cost to the offer-but she'd missed dinner, and it made sense that the Lady Gollerus would have some non-perishable supplies for stragglers.
"Sure."
"Right there." Kay pointed towards a cupboard behind her. With a thankful nod, Trinitite opened it and started scanning. She'd had Ramen from these containers before, but that had been very early after landfall, and while the crunchy noodles had been fine most of the flavored powder had been lost when she'd tried pouring it on the uncooked bundle.
"I think we're gonna run out pretty quickly, though." Kay's voice echoed from behind her as she withdrew a plastic cup. "Did you pack your own food?"
"...Yeah." The abyssal admitted. She'd intended to keep her reserve a secret, but if everyone was supposed to bring one…
Her quartermaster helpfully reminded her that she still had some ramen of her own left. Perhaps she could trade some?
"That's great!" Kay continued. "If you need anything, let me know and we can trade."
Despite herself, a small chuckle escaped Trinitite's lips. As she started filling a clean bowl with water from the sink, shifting the ceramic with each dive The Lady made, she spoke again.
"Why are you eating so late anyways?"
That was right. Allison Holt was supposed to be a bubbly, outgoing extrovert, so no matter how much the Wo-class wanted to ignore the human, quietly eat her meal, then disappear into her quarters, she had to keep the conversation going.
"Ah, it's nothing." Kay dismissed. "Had to take the helm for a bit while Wyatt dealt with family issues."
"They let you pilot the ship?" Trinitite asked, throwing the bowl in the microwave.
"We're just holding a heading." The human downplayed. Still, if something happened, a competent helmsman was vital. "How about you?"
"Had to replace a fan belt on one of the chilling units for cold storage." The Wo-class reported. "Took three times as long as we thought it would."
"Ergh." Kay winced. "Glad they haven't pulled me into any of that grease monkey stuff yet."
"They will." Trinitite stated. For a brief moment, she tried to remember the name of the guy she'd been working with, but all that came to mind was his massive mustache. "They said you'll be next the next time something breaks."
"Shit." The human cursed. "They're replacing you already?"
That got Trinitite to laugh.
"Depends on how good you do."
"I'll make sure to take four hours." Kay remarked, smiling.
"Sure…"
There was a moment of comfortable silence as the microwave finished bringing the bowl of water to boiling. After a satisfied ding, the Wo-class withdrew the steaming bowl and, having already opened the cup of ramen, poured the boiling water in.
"Those the same gloves you used to change the fan belt?"
"Huh?" The Wo-class paused for a second, before closing the lid on the ramen cup to let it cook. "No, those were way too greasy when I was done."
"You got new gloves to eat dinner with?"
Trinitite froze.
"Yes?"
"Why bother with gloves?"
The question was worded so casually, without a hint of obvious suspicion, but the tone failed to hide the danger in the words. The Wo-class was glad she was facing away from Kay, because the shock in her features would probably exacerbate the sudden suspicion she found herself under.
"I just- it's…" What could she say? She'd never seen a human eating with gloves before! Yeah, she could claim it was for the hot water she was handling, but then Kay would be expecting her to take them off, and she couldn't allow that to happen!
How had things gotten so dangerous so quickly?
"I- I-" She stuttered, gulping as she continued to look for the right words. She definitely couldn't use the albino excuse anymore- not with news of herself so fresh in everyone's minds. The Wo-class turned, meeting the gaze of her accuser, still at a loss for words. "Uh…"
Was that… concern on the human's face?
"Hey, you do you!" The human reassured, her phone on the table as she held her hands up. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
The abyssal didn't know what to say, the feeling of danger fading, but not disappearing. That's right, Kay had asked an innocent question, and hadn't been prepared for Trinitite's panic. Now, her outsized reaction had created suspicion where there once was none. She'd thought of so many excuses and answers to questions as she'd crafted this identity. How had she missed the glove question!
So stupid!
"They're pretty nice gloves, Allison." The human added plaintively.
"...Thanks." The Wo-class mumbled, grabbing the still-cooking cup of ramen from the tiny counter and flopping down across from Kay. The human had called off her accidental interrogation, but Trinitite still needed to say something to intercept Kay's doubts before they became suspicions. Her mind raced, an excuse finally forming.
"After an… accident a few years back," the Wo-class started, her voice grim. "I don't like other people seeing my hands."
"Oh…" The human trailed off, her face suddenly grim. "I'm sorry, Allison."
"You didn't know." The Wo-class mumbled.
The ramen was probably ready now. In silence, the abyssal opened the cup, giving the noodles an experimental stir. They shifted and twirled around her fork agreeably, the water level having fallen a few inches below them. Seemed cooked enough. Add the flavoring packet and stir…
The first bite of ramen was… alright. Subtle flavor, good texture.
There was another soft creek as The Lady pitched into another wave.
…Deep, it was quiet.
"So," The abyssal started, hoping to end the awkward silence, "how was Wyatt able to deal with 'family issues' out here?"
"Huh?" Kay looked up from her phone. "We… we do have Satellite, Allison."
"Satellite?" The abyssal asked. She knew what a satellite was, but how that related to this fishing trawler-
"Yeah!" The human visibly perked up. "It's no starlink, but it loads Instagram and any webpage you need, if you're patient."
"Huh…" The abyssal shrugged, opening her phone to see an available wifi network. An experimental use of google, while slow and stuttering, proved its veracity. "Look at that."
So they had a connection with a satellite? The abyssal idly wondered which antenna atop the lady was responsible for that. She probably couldn't rig one herself, but it was an interesting thought experiment. Given how much work she'd been doing throughout the day- all odd jobs helping various crewmates- she didn't see herself using the feature much, but it was nice to know she had the option.
Come to think of it, it was much, much more valuable to know others on board had that option. She'd have to determine that antennae in case she had to sabotage it.
"Yeah, it's pretty useful." Kay sighed, placing her phone on the table screen-up. "It's been helping me with finding an apartment."
The phone silently slid to Trinitite's side of the table, showing the abyssal the contents of the screen. Bright photographs of buildings. Flowery titles, short descriptions.
Prices.
"That's how much it costs?" The abyssal asked, committing the prices into her logs.
"Monthly, yeah." The human replied, and like dud ordinance the numbers she'd let aboard seemed to suddenly detonate. "Not including utilities and furniture, of course."
"Of course." The Wo-class echoed numbly. She'd have to look up 'utilities' as soon as this conversation finished, but these prices were already far too high! Fifteen hundred? Two thousand? THREE THOUSAND AND EIGHT HUNDRED DOLLARS EVERY MONTH?
The five percent commission she was getting suddenly felt much, much smaller.
"Yeah, pretty pricey, huh?" Kay's comment slid into Trinitite's thoughts, the abyssal looking up to see her coworker idly stirring her ramen. "I thought with so many people fleeing the coasts prices would go down, but I guess inflation took care of that."
"This…" The abyssal mumbled. "...This is pretty bad."
Why was she showing her this? Yes, it was useful information, especially considering they both needed a place to stay…
Ahh, she understood now.
"I agree." The human smiled predatorily. "But if we split the rent for a two bedroom apartment, it'll get a lot cheaper."
As Kay was speaking, the Wo-class mentally reviewed the implied deal. It was true that the 'two bed' apartments were more expensive then the single-occupant ones, but not by twice as much. With some quick mental calculations and two random listings, the Wo-class figured she could cut costs by twenty percent. Not an amazing savings, but enough that she'd need a very good reason to ignore it.
Money wasn't her only concern, however. If she agreed to this deal, Trinitite was going to be in close contact with a human again, sharing a dwelling with them for an extended period of time.
Could she keep it secret from her, even during her planned refit? Should she?
S- Sarah?
This wasn't the same. Not by a long shot. However, the Wo-class couldn't see herself getting as… invested in Kay as she did in Alex, but the human was still proposing to tie herself into a binding agreement with 'Allison' without knowing some very important information. The amount of harm Trinitite had done to the Martin-Campos family for the simple act of housing her couldn't be calculated. Trinitite never wanted to hurt someone like that, see that shock and betrayal on a friend's face, again.
Still, while Alex probably hated her now, in hindsight Trinitite knew her former boyfriend would have kept her secret. Kay was an unknown quantity, one offering a mutually beneficial but impersonal deal. Trinitite couldn't trust her, and with Alex fresh in her memory the idea of lying again so she could get close enough to build that trust felt… repulsive.
"Allison, you alright?"
She couldn't get ahead of herself. Trinitite needed to see if her non-negotiable would break the deal before she got too distracted.
"I'm fine." The abyssal lied. "Just tired."
The abyssal looked back down at Kay's phone, sighed, and gently slid it back to the human.
"...I want my own bath."
"You catch on pretty quick." Kay smirked.
"I can't agree to anything yet." The Wo-class hedged, raising her hand. "There's a few things I need to check once we get back on shore before I agree to anything."
"That's fair." The human nodded, scooping her phone back up with one hand and extracting another forkful of ramen with the other. "Just don't keep me waiting too long after we're moored."
"I'll try not to." The abyssal replied, acknowledging the gentle dismissal. They didn't have an agreement yet, but it seemed the human was happy to keep the deal open.
She still had seven days at sea. In that time, she'd gather more information on Kay, and make a decision once they were ashore and the abyssal had both a paycheck and an easy route of escape if things went wrong.
She just needed to know what kind of questions to ask…
It wasn't something she couldn't get used to, but the carrier was starting to understand the complaints of destroyers she'd often sailed with a little better.
After regaining her footing, the disguised abyssal continued down the passageway, bracing herself on the next door (a flimsy wooden one instead of the sparse watertight hatches the lady had) before The Lady dove into another harsh wave. Once the sudden movement had ended, the abyssal opened the door and steadily made her way through.
The galley was surprisingly empty. Every other time she'd visited here, there'd normally be two or three people here, chatting or messing with their phones, but now the table's only occupant was the red-headed Kay.
She looked up from her phone as Trinitite entered.
"You're up pretty late."
"Still need to eat."
"That makes two of us." She smiled. Her other hand lifted her fork out of a steaming bowl of ramen, noodles dangling from the steaming bundle entrapped in the plastic prongs. "Want one of these?"
A part of Trinitite wondered if there was a hidden cost to the offer-but she'd missed dinner, and it made sense that the Lady Gollerus would have some non-perishable supplies for stragglers.
"Sure."
"Right there." Kay pointed towards a cupboard behind her. With a thankful nod, Trinitite opened it and started scanning. She'd had Ramen from these containers before, but that had been very early after landfall, and while the crunchy noodles had been fine most of the flavored powder had been lost when she'd tried pouring it on the uncooked bundle.
"I think we're gonna run out pretty quickly, though." Kay's voice echoed from behind her as she withdrew a plastic cup. "Did you pack your own food?"
"...Yeah." The abyssal admitted. She'd intended to keep her reserve a secret, but if everyone was supposed to bring one…
Her quartermaster helpfully reminded her that she still had some ramen of her own left. Perhaps she could trade some?
"That's great!" Kay continued. "If you need anything, let me know and we can trade."
Despite herself, a small chuckle escaped Trinitite's lips. As she started filling a clean bowl with water from the sink, shifting the ceramic with each dive The Lady made, she spoke again.
"Why are you eating so late anyways?"
That was right. Allison Holt was supposed to be a bubbly, outgoing extrovert, so no matter how much the Wo-class wanted to ignore the human, quietly eat her meal, then disappear into her quarters, she had to keep the conversation going.
"Ah, it's nothing." Kay dismissed. "Had to take the helm for a bit while Wyatt dealt with family issues."
"They let you pilot the ship?" Trinitite asked, throwing the bowl in the microwave.
"We're just holding a heading." The human downplayed. Still, if something happened, a competent helmsman was vital. "How about you?"
"Had to replace a fan belt on one of the chilling units for cold storage." The Wo-class reported. "Took three times as long as we thought it would."
"Ergh." Kay winced. "Glad they haven't pulled me into any of that grease monkey stuff yet."
"They will." Trinitite stated. For a brief moment, she tried to remember the name of the guy she'd been working with, but all that came to mind was his massive mustache. "They said you'll be next the next time something breaks."
"Shit." The human cursed. "They're replacing you already?"
That got Trinitite to laugh.
"Depends on how good you do."
"I'll make sure to take four hours." Kay remarked, smiling.
"Sure…"
There was a moment of comfortable silence as the microwave finished bringing the bowl of water to boiling. After a satisfied ding, the Wo-class withdrew the steaming bowl and, having already opened the cup of ramen, poured the boiling water in.
"Those the same gloves you used to change the fan belt?"
"Huh?" The Wo-class paused for a second, before closing the lid on the ramen cup to let it cook. "No, those were way too greasy when I was done."
"You got new gloves to eat dinner with?"
Trinitite froze.
"Yes?"
"Why bother with gloves?"
The question was worded so casually, without a hint of obvious suspicion, but the tone failed to hide the danger in the words. The Wo-class was glad she was facing away from Kay, because the shock in her features would probably exacerbate the sudden suspicion she found herself under.
"I just- it's…" What could she say? She'd never seen a human eating with gloves before! Yeah, she could claim it was for the hot water she was handling, but then Kay would be expecting her to take them off, and she couldn't allow that to happen!
How had things gotten so dangerous so quickly?
"I- I-" She stuttered, gulping as she continued to look for the right words. She definitely couldn't use the albino excuse anymore- not with news of herself so fresh in everyone's minds. The Wo-class turned, meeting the gaze of her accuser, still at a loss for words. "Uh…"
Was that… concern on the human's face?
"Hey, you do you!" The human reassured, her phone on the table as she held her hands up. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
The abyssal didn't know what to say, the feeling of danger fading, but not disappearing. That's right, Kay had asked an innocent question, and hadn't been prepared for Trinitite's panic. Now, her outsized reaction had created suspicion where there once was none. She'd thought of so many excuses and answers to questions as she'd crafted this identity. How had she missed the glove question!
So stupid!
"They're pretty nice gloves, Allison." The human added plaintively.
"...Thanks." The Wo-class mumbled, grabbing the still-cooking cup of ramen from the tiny counter and flopping down across from Kay. The human had called off her accidental interrogation, but Trinitite still needed to say something to intercept Kay's doubts before they became suspicions. Her mind raced, an excuse finally forming.
"After an… accident a few years back," the Wo-class started, her voice grim. "I don't like other people seeing my hands."
"Oh…" The human trailed off, her face suddenly grim. "I'm sorry, Allison."
"You didn't know." The Wo-class mumbled.
The ramen was probably ready now. In silence, the abyssal opened the cup, giving the noodles an experimental stir. They shifted and twirled around her fork agreeably, the water level having fallen a few inches below them. Seemed cooked enough. Add the flavoring packet and stir…
The first bite of ramen was… alright. Subtle flavor, good texture.
There was another soft creek as The Lady pitched into another wave.
…Deep, it was quiet.
"So," The abyssal started, hoping to end the awkward silence, "how was Wyatt able to deal with 'family issues' out here?"
"Huh?" Kay looked up from her phone. "We… we do have Satellite, Allison."
"Satellite?" The abyssal asked. She knew what a satellite was, but how that related to this fishing trawler-
"Yeah!" The human visibly perked up. "It's no starlink, but it loads Instagram and any webpage you need, if you're patient."
"Huh…" The abyssal shrugged, opening her phone to see an available wifi network. An experimental use of google, while slow and stuttering, proved its veracity. "Look at that."
So they had a connection with a satellite? The abyssal idly wondered which antenna atop the lady was responsible for that. She probably couldn't rig one herself, but it was an interesting thought experiment. Given how much work she'd been doing throughout the day- all odd jobs helping various crewmates- she didn't see herself using the feature much, but it was nice to know she had the option.
Come to think of it, it was much, much more valuable to know others on board had that option. She'd have to determine that antennae in case she had to sabotage it.
"Yeah, it's pretty useful." Kay sighed, placing her phone on the table screen-up. "It's been helping me with finding an apartment."
The phone silently slid to Trinitite's side of the table, showing the abyssal the contents of the screen. Bright photographs of buildings. Flowery titles, short descriptions.
Prices.
"That's how much it costs?" The abyssal asked, committing the prices into her logs.
"Monthly, yeah." The human replied, and like dud ordinance the numbers she'd let aboard seemed to suddenly detonate. "Not including utilities and furniture, of course."
"Of course." The Wo-class echoed numbly. She'd have to look up 'utilities' as soon as this conversation finished, but these prices were already far too high! Fifteen hundred? Two thousand? THREE THOUSAND AND EIGHT HUNDRED DOLLARS EVERY MONTH?
The five percent commission she was getting suddenly felt much, much smaller.
"Yeah, pretty pricey, huh?" Kay's comment slid into Trinitite's thoughts, the abyssal looking up to see her coworker idly stirring her ramen. "I thought with so many people fleeing the coasts prices would go down, but I guess inflation took care of that."
"This…" The abyssal mumbled. "...This is pretty bad."
Why was she showing her this? Yes, it was useful information, especially considering they both needed a place to stay…
Ahh, she understood now.
"I agree." The human smiled predatorily. "But if we split the rent for a two bedroom apartment, it'll get a lot cheaper."
As Kay was speaking, the Wo-class mentally reviewed the implied deal. It was true that the 'two bed' apartments were more expensive then the single-occupant ones, but not by twice as much. With some quick mental calculations and two random listings, the Wo-class figured she could cut costs by twenty percent. Not an amazing savings, but enough that she'd need a very good reason to ignore it.
Money wasn't her only concern, however. If she agreed to this deal, Trinitite was going to be in close contact with a human again, sharing a dwelling with them for an extended period of time.
Could she keep it secret from her, even during her planned refit? Should she?
S- Sarah?
This wasn't the same. Not by a long shot. However, the Wo-class couldn't see herself getting as… invested in Kay as she did in Alex, but the human was still proposing to tie herself into a binding agreement with 'Allison' without knowing some very important information. The amount of harm Trinitite had done to the Martin-Campos family for the simple act of housing her couldn't be calculated. Trinitite never wanted to hurt someone like that, see that shock and betrayal on a friend's face, again.
Still, while Alex probably hated her now, in hindsight Trinitite knew her former boyfriend would have kept her secret. Kay was an unknown quantity, one offering a mutually beneficial but impersonal deal. Trinitite couldn't trust her, and with Alex fresh in her memory the idea of lying again so she could get close enough to build that trust felt… repulsive.
"Allison, you alright?"
She couldn't get ahead of herself. Trinitite needed to see if her non-negotiable would break the deal before she got too distracted.
"I'm fine." The abyssal lied. "Just tired."
The abyssal looked back down at Kay's phone, sighed, and gently slid it back to the human.
"...I want my own bath."
"You catch on pretty quick." Kay smirked.
"I can't agree to anything yet." The Wo-class hedged, raising her hand. "There's a few things I need to check once we get back on shore before I agree to anything."
"That's fair." The human nodded, scooping her phone back up with one hand and extracting another forkful of ramen with the other. "Just don't keep me waiting too long after we're moored."
"I'll try not to." The abyssal replied, acknowledging the gentle dismissal. They didn't have an agreement yet, but it seemed the human was happy to keep the deal open.
She still had seven days at sea. In that time, she'd gather more information on Kay, and make a decision once they were ashore and the abyssal had both a paycheck and an easy route of escape if things went wrong.
She just needed to know what kind of questions to ask…
Took me long enough! I'm frankly surprised I finished this before my January first deadline.
This first underway isn't supposed to be a very big part of this arc. Ten days out at sea, with a little bit of introductions to get everything set up... it's actually been a bit of a challenge trying to keep things relatively brief, while still developing the character dynamics I want once they're back shoreside. It's been a good challenge, but that means that writing's also been a bit slower then I'd like as well. I already knew the holiday season in-story wouldn't synchronize with real life's holidays, but right now I'm not sure when we'll actually be seeing it.
This first underway isn't supposed to be a very big part of this arc. Ten days out at sea, with a little bit of introductions to get everything set up... it's actually been a bit of a challenge trying to keep things relatively brief, while still developing the character dynamics I want once they're back shoreside. It's been a good challenge, but that means that writing's also been a bit slower then I'd like as well. I already knew the holiday season in-story wouldn't synchronize with real life's holidays, but right now I'm not sure when we'll actually be seeing it.
- Pronouns
- Reader
Also, Kay seems like a meddler. The kind that invites her flatmate out for a night on the town with intention of playing wing-woman. I see many shovel talks in Saratoga's future.
- Location
- USA
Nah. By the time they are back ashore Trinitites almost certainly going to be experiencing the hospitality of Uncle Sam. One way or another.
Personally I fully expect Trinitite to be forced to defend the Lady from Abyssals
- Location
- Lost in the internet
How ? She's so damaged that she can't launch aircraft and don't really have the heaviest armament. She would need a repair bath and days, if not weeks, of repair and maintenance before being back into a combat-ready state.
Personally, I think she will survive her first run, get an appartment with Kay, start fixing herself and then, maybe in a second trip, flex her fully operational status if needed.
- Pronouns
- Reader
Trinitite is going to end up inventing the first corrupted summoning chamber/repair baths in the United States and end up inadvertently summoning Groves into her and Kays flat. 
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- Location
- Canada
Other than the crumbs, and the salt clumping; What'wrong with cold ramen? ( By calories; ) Most of the ramen I've eaten has been cold.
Microwave? Wouldn't that tend to smoulder? Wait-- (rereads)
Huh? I'd actually missed that and the addition of water to the bowl too. -- I'd just assumed "yep; late-night ( ramen pack + {cheeze or protein slab} ) = meal before collapsing from exaustion" and didn't parse those details as connected. (edit: also now reminded to go and eat)
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Interlude: Getting out of the Office
New
PyrrhicSteel
Look natural.
- Location
- Idaho
In seas like this, few people enjoyed themselves. The eight-foot waves posed little threat to a warship of any size, but traversing them was no pleasant prospect. If one kept their bow pointed into the waves, they parted without much fuss, but the sea didn't always cooperate with your planned course, and keeping a steady heading in wartime was asking for trouble.
As the light cruiser adjusted her heading, entering another pre-planned zag, the waves started to slap against her hull, inducing that awkward rocking that had emptied stomachs of many a sailor. The wind accompanying the waves nuzzled against her side, flowing over her deck and ruffling both her hair and her superstructure.
Nashville was deeply thankful no one could see her right now. If anyone saw the light cruiser with this dopey, idiotic grin, her reputation would be ruined! She could imagine Brooklyn's relentless teasing already.
Ohh, aren't you precious! If you showed a bit of that smile next time we go out I'm sure you'll have men all over you!
Whatever. Nashville was content in the knowledge that none of her sisters had to deal with the bullshit she'd just managed to escape from. The media shitstorm, the political battle between Ferguson and The Navy, the feeling of helplessness… all of that was waiting for her when she stepped back onto land, but for now, it was far from her mind.
She was a cruiser again! Not some weird spook, office REMF, or pawn for beat cops. Not a speed bump to throw in front of the abyssal, not a useless waste of food sitting on her hands and collecting a paycheck. She was a light cruiser, performing something she was built for: trailing an enemy ship from just over the horizon, ready to lend the Brooklyn Class's famously oversized main battery to any problems that arose.
The fact that her plan seemed to be making progress only buoyed her spirits further. Sure, she didn't really have to do anything yet, but she'd gotten support from both Agent Ferguson and Murray! Sure, the political bureaucrat from the FBI had only said he'd 'consider it,' but compared to any of the other plans Murray, his superiors or anyone else in The Navy had presented, that was a glowing endorsement! She'd keep working on the fat civilian until he realized that was basically his only option.
The cruiser executed her planned zag, sighing as she found herself cutting through the waves once again. For a moment her thoughts strayed to her phone and all the movies her sisters had had her download, but the idea of pulling that thing out right now just wasn't appealing. She had no connection right now, obviously, but she was happy about that.
If she needed to know something, it would be radioed to her. Otherwise, she'd remain in blissful ignorance about whatever new mess started in the fiasco known as operation Absolute Railroad.
No matter what happened back on land, Nashville's mood would remain above water until her screws could no longer churn water. Anything that unfolded was future Nash's problem.
- - -
It took her several days to get her Rostock apartment into a state where she was willing to record herself. It hadn't been dirty, per se, except for a pile of letters that had accumulated at her threshold during her time at sea, but barren from lack of use. With what she was planning to say, she needed to make this presentation as credible as possible, which meant finally filling her apartment out.
Plus, that was something she'd been planning to do for a while. Eugen had always been teasing her about dragging her to a furniture store. A set of bookcases, some of the books she'd bought at various port calls, and a framed newspaper later, and she had a decent background. She'd get the rest of her apartment furnished after this, but right now getting this off her chest was more important.
The camera was hers, built into her phone, but the tripod it had been mounted to wasn't. The battleship didn't know why Prinz Eugen owned a tripod, and perhaps it would make good conversation fodder later. Of course, the upbeat cruiser had insisted on coming over when she'd asked to borrow it, and of course the battleship had accepted. Surprisingly, the heavy cruiser hadn't teased her about the bare state of her apartment this time.
"Bookshelves? What a wonderful place to get started, Big Sister! They should dull some of the echoes, too!" She'd gushed, before her tone took a more teasing lilt. "Don't they look wonderful? See what you can do when you get off your laptop, Big sis?"
The battleship had hummed and refused to reply to the comment. She found contributing to Janes and other journals to be both relaxing and fulfilling. Better to spend what limited free time she had on something she enjoyed, instead of something frivolous like furniture. She hadn't really planned on getting any visitors, at least not until she'd gotten a better home for herself. Still, things were pretty bare in here…
"Alright." The heavy cruiser finished, applying the last patch of transparent tape she had and taking a step back from the lamp to study the room. "That's going to be the best lighting we can get."
The battleship looked up from the power strip she'd plugged in, wires spreading from the strip to the trio of lamps arrayed just out of view of her camera. Besides her bed, her main room now boasted the sum of all furniture in her apartment.
"Let's see." She muttered, flicking the switch to 'RESET.'
Prinz Eugen nodded approvingly.
"Looks pretty good." The light cruiser noted, adjusting the paper she'd taped over the reading light. "Plenty of illumination, but it should be soft enough to prevent any glare.
"You seem like you have experience." The battleship noted. "Have you been producing videos?"
"Photography." Prinz Eugen smiled.
Huh. She'd learned something new about her closest comrade today.
"You'll have to show me some of your work after this." The battleship noted, straightening her jacket.
"I- yeah!" The cruiser nodded, face flushing in embarrassment. "I just started, so nothing is that interesting, but…"
"I'm looking forward to it." The battleship soothed, the diversion from her grim mission welcome. With a lean, she checked her phone— verifying the shot with both bookshelves framing a blank wall— before sighing and straightening.
Stepping around the camera, the battleship positioned herself between the two bookcases, smoothed out her tailored suit again, and took a deep, calming breath.
With a nod, Prinz Eugen tapped something on the battleship's phone, then flashed an encouraging thumbs up.
Showtime.
"Good afternoon." The battleship spoke into the camera. "My name is Bismarck."
Her English wasn't as good as she'd like. Her vocabulary, of course she'd improved to a standard equal to many native English speakers, but her pronunciation…
"I will start by saying that I am speaking to you as myself, not as a member of Deutsch Marine or Allied Maritime Command." The battleship spoke, hoping Americans didn't mind her accent. "The opinions I express are solely my own, shaped by my experiences in both of my lives, my many… encounters with abyssals in the Atlantic, and several intelligence documents I'm not at liberty to reference. Please refrain from passing any judgment on my colleagues for what I'm about to say."
Prinz Eugen's English was much better than Bismarck's, especially when it came to American dialects. Because of this, the way her encouraging smile turned brittle was a good sign Bismarck was understandable, at least.
"If you're watching this, I will assume you know my history. For the entirety of my previous life, I served Adolf Hitler and the National Socialist Party."
The smile was gone from Prinz Eugen's face, now.
"Many former Axis members say that they did not agree with the wars of expansion their nations waged. I do not doubt them, but such was not the case for myself.
"I was born, raised, and sunk knowing little beyond the words and stories of the party. It's true that the Kriegsmarine was less loyal to Hitler's cause than the other armed forces, but…"
The battleship shook her head, the premonition that the next words in the script she'd written wouldn't sound right coming to her. Quietly, she skipped the rest of the sentence.
"When I returned, everything about the modern world was a shock to me. The technology, the political situation, but most importantly, the knowledge of the evils my country committed under Nazi Party.
"If not for the help of friends like Prinz Eugen, former enemies like Hood and Prince of Wales, and the overwhelming support of the German people, I would be in a much darker place then I am today." The battleship realized a smile had snuck onto her features, and allowed it to linger. "Europe is much better now than it was in 1941. I'd like to think that, thanks to them, I'm a better person than the woman I was then as well."
Bismarck sighed, mentally bracing herself for the next part of her speech.
"That brings me to the topic I need to talk to you about: Trinitite."
Prinz Eugen's face went white. Almost everyone Bismarck knew had an opinion on the renegade carrier, and many had asked the former princess for hers, but she'd kept it to herself until now. The heavy cruiser had been among the number, of course. Her offer of support if the news uncovered any nasty memories was touching, but the battleship had quietly kept her thoughts to herself regardless. Bismarck had said she'd needed time to think about it, which had been true, but there had been plenty of opportunities to confide in the heavy cruiser.
In hindsight, that had been a mistake. She'd have to apologize to her later.
"I have been keeping myself as informed as possible on the situation developing in Washington, from public news to documents provided by the Office of Naval intelligence. The picture these reports paint is… terrifyingly familiar.
"Trinitite was born at some time in 2020, months after the first abyssals appeared. Her entire existence up until the Battle of Bikini was in the Crossroads Fleet, a doomsday cult that mostly kept to itself.
"Everything that young woman knew was what was told to her by her delusional Princess, what the genocidal monsters her fleet occasionally dealt with spoke of, and our best efforts as humanity to see her sunk."
As she spoke, the battleship's thoughts drifted away from the carrier and across dark, fragmented memories of a proud fleet, led to their doom by a mad woman with a poisoned tongue.
You'll remember me, won't you, Princess?
"Then, we destroyed the rest of her fleet. Killed everyone she's ever known. I agree that it was just— the Crossroads fleet were enabling the greater war of extermination by protecting convoys— but I would be surprised if those thoughts ever crossed her mind.
"With what we know about her, the restraint she's shown in the United States is amazing. This abyssal aircraft carrier hasn't killed any human since the Battle of Bikini. She isn't innocent, but considering she's at war with the United States, her conduct speaks to a strength of character exceeding anything we could have expected."
Some of Bismarck's post-purification memories echoed in her mind. The shame of knowing she'd betrayed her people. The shock of a Germany completely alien to her. The profound sense of loss she'd felt as her research— her own research, separate from the orientation presentations she'd sat through— undermined everything she'd known was true in her past life.
"When I think of her, isolated in a world entirely alien to her, I am reminded of my own experience in modern civilization, confronted by a society and set of values alien to me. I had the fortune of everyone's support. Trinitite? There is no doubt that she finds Washington to be even more alien to her, her worldview even more thoroughly shattered— and there is no one to help her grapple with such a revelation."
That feeling of being adrift, the fear that came from rebuilding herself… it was something Bismark was still working on, and if nobody had been there for her…
"She might still be a monster. Many abyssals have committed crimes that can never be forgiven, but I think it's safe to say that the cult that ruled Bikini Atoll was less evil than the one that raped Europe in the 1940s. I was a member of that cult, a true believer in the Nazi Party and what it stood for, and yet my comrades and I are proof that we can free ourselves from that ideological poison and become defenders of a free and just society."
Yes, Bismarck considered herself proof that the damage caused by a lifetime of exposure to evil rhetoric wasn't permanent or unrecoverable. While she couldn't prove abyssals could be rescued from the cults that made them monsters… the Americans could.
"I understand that what I am going to suggest is dangerous. I don't know anything more about abyssals than the men in ONI, and the potential for damage Trinitite could do is appalling, but this is the first abyssal we've truly caught alone. Trinitite has no Princess— Her former allies in the Pacific betrayed her fleet. She is The Bikini Fleet, an independent diplomatic entity, and from what we've seen she's far more reasonable than any Princess out there."
Prinz Eugen's shock was gone, now, but the concern that marred her visage remained. A deep frown was setting into her features, now. There was going to be a conversation after she finished recording.
"America's power lies in many things: Geography, industry, technology, but I agree with those that say its greatest strength lies in its national identity. Anyone from across the world, with the correct attitude and a clean record, could become American. Sikorsky, Tesla, Szilard— these minds weren't born in the United States, but saw their best chance at life there. No matter their background, their talents, or their previous achievements, they all became American."
That wasn't entirely accurate, she knew. Of course, the battleship could speak for just as long about things she didn't like about the country, most notably their sparse appearance in Europe despite their NATO commitments. However, considering her intended audience, those complaints could remain unvoiced.
"This is your greatest strength. Some of the best minds on the planet come to America, looking for a brighter future. The greatest talent. It's an advantage we in Europe have just started to understand.
"Trinitite's war is over. She is hungry, tired, and poor. Abyssals may be naturally evil, but the way this Wo-class has treated the humans in her life has shown us there's a potential to rise above that nature, if we can give her the opportunity."
Bismarck abruptly realized she was leaning forward, and made an effort to straighten her back and square her shoulders.
"As someone who's been on the front lines of this war for as long as she's been able, I am begging you to extend Lady Liberty's hand to this Trinitite. Give her a chance to end the war with dignity, to step into the open and join that two-hundred-year experiment.
"Abyssals are born loyal to their Princess, but that might not be a guarantee. Most of you haven't seen the reports I've read on how Princesses keep their subordinates in line, the fear and abuse and lies they depend on. Humanity is not at war with a force of nature. It isn't at war with an empire. We're fighting ten-dozen cults of personality, demons abusing and gaslighting newborn spirits until they've become monstrous pawns, puppets that have caused immeasurable suffering."
Bismarck did not cry. Battleships did not cry, but as she made her final plea, she suddenly found she had to blink away something that was blurring her vision.
"If you can prove to the world, to the members born in these cults, that there's an alternative to being the perfect little pawns of their tyrant commanders— the abyssal war effort could start to fracture. We could make some real progress towards ending this. Trinitite might be the only opportunity humanity has to do that in a long time."
The battleship leaned forwards to the camera, her hands grasping at her pleated slacks as she said her closing words.
"Please, people of America, don't squander that opportunity."
With that, she nodded to Eugen. The heavy cruiser quietly leaned over and tapped the phone, before speaking.
"Bismarck…" The cruiser started, concern weighing down her words.
"Prinz." The battleship answered. "Thank you for your help."
"I… I didn't know you felt that way."
"I needed time to get my thoughts together." Bismarck stated. "I didn't want to tell anyone until I knew how to really express myself."
"You don't have to tell everyone!" Prinz snapped. "I know you talk with American Intelligence on this, just pass your suggestion to them!"
"They don't have enough power to make a decision." The battleship justified. "Trinitite is a political issue now. The public needed to know."
"They aren't going to listen!" The heavy cruiser insisted. "Bismarck, if you post that online, everybody's going to call you an enemy sympathizer! You're going to be crucified!"
"Perhaps."
Prinz Eugen seemed to deflate, slumping in her chair. Seeing the heavy cruiser wasn't convincing, she continued.
"Prinz, we aren't living in the old Germany, and I'm too important to lock away. The worst I can expect is ridicule and maybe some advancement opportunities."
"You're too stubborn." The heavy cruiser pouted. "...damn, I thought this was gonna be like one of your defense papers. People aren't going to like this."
"I know."
The heavy cruiser met Bismarck's gaze.
"...but you have to do it."
"I do."
"This won't bring them back, you know."
"...it might save someone." The battleship asserted. "Isn't a life more valuable than a reputation?"
Besides, Trinitite was setting a precedent. If there was hope for her, there was hope for the fleet under her sister's sway, too.
Seeing the battleship wasn't going to change her mind, Prinz Eugen sighed, standing and absentmindedly fixing her hair.
"Okay. No matter what happens, I'm still with you."
"I couldn't ask for anything more."
"You know how to put that online?"
There was a moment of silence.
"You don't." Eugen deadpanned.
"I'll figure it out."
"Okay…" Bismarck's closest friend looked toward her skeptically. "Do you have a Youtube account?"
"Not… yet." she admitted.
"Alright." The cruiser nodded. "I assume you want a lot of people to see this?"
"I already sent an oped to the New York Times."
"Oh." Prinz's eyes widened. "Guess there's been no turning back for a while then." With a sigh, she produced her own phone and started working on it.
"I'm ordering food." She reported. "There's a lot of things we're gonna have to do if you want this to go viral."
As the light cruiser adjusted her heading, entering another pre-planned zag, the waves started to slap against her hull, inducing that awkward rocking that had emptied stomachs of many a sailor. The wind accompanying the waves nuzzled against her side, flowing over her deck and ruffling both her hair and her superstructure.
Nashville was deeply thankful no one could see her right now. If anyone saw the light cruiser with this dopey, idiotic grin, her reputation would be ruined! She could imagine Brooklyn's relentless teasing already.
Ohh, aren't you precious! If you showed a bit of that smile next time we go out I'm sure you'll have men all over you!
Whatever. Nashville was content in the knowledge that none of her sisters had to deal with the bullshit she'd just managed to escape from. The media shitstorm, the political battle between Ferguson and The Navy, the feeling of helplessness… all of that was waiting for her when she stepped back onto land, but for now, it was far from her mind.
She was a cruiser again! Not some weird spook, office REMF, or pawn for beat cops. Not a speed bump to throw in front of the abyssal, not a useless waste of food sitting on her hands and collecting a paycheck. She was a light cruiser, performing something she was built for: trailing an enemy ship from just over the horizon, ready to lend the Brooklyn Class's famously oversized main battery to any problems that arose.
The fact that her plan seemed to be making progress only buoyed her spirits further. Sure, she didn't really have to do anything yet, but she'd gotten support from both Agent Ferguson and Murray! Sure, the political bureaucrat from the FBI had only said he'd 'consider it,' but compared to any of the other plans Murray, his superiors or anyone else in The Navy had presented, that was a glowing endorsement! She'd keep working on the fat civilian until he realized that was basically his only option.
The cruiser executed her planned zag, sighing as she found herself cutting through the waves once again. For a moment her thoughts strayed to her phone and all the movies her sisters had had her download, but the idea of pulling that thing out right now just wasn't appealing. She had no connection right now, obviously, but she was happy about that.
If she needed to know something, it would be radioed to her. Otherwise, she'd remain in blissful ignorance about whatever new mess started in the fiasco known as operation Absolute Railroad.
No matter what happened back on land, Nashville's mood would remain above water until her screws could no longer churn water. Anything that unfolded was future Nash's problem.
- - -
It took her several days to get her Rostock apartment into a state where she was willing to record herself. It hadn't been dirty, per se, except for a pile of letters that had accumulated at her threshold during her time at sea, but barren from lack of use. With what she was planning to say, she needed to make this presentation as credible as possible, which meant finally filling her apartment out.
Plus, that was something she'd been planning to do for a while. Eugen had always been teasing her about dragging her to a furniture store. A set of bookcases, some of the books she'd bought at various port calls, and a framed newspaper later, and she had a decent background. She'd get the rest of her apartment furnished after this, but right now getting this off her chest was more important.
The camera was hers, built into her phone, but the tripod it had been mounted to wasn't. The battleship didn't know why Prinz Eugen owned a tripod, and perhaps it would make good conversation fodder later. Of course, the upbeat cruiser had insisted on coming over when she'd asked to borrow it, and of course the battleship had accepted. Surprisingly, the heavy cruiser hadn't teased her about the bare state of her apartment this time.
"Bookshelves? What a wonderful place to get started, Big Sister! They should dull some of the echoes, too!" She'd gushed, before her tone took a more teasing lilt. "Don't they look wonderful? See what you can do when you get off your laptop, Big sis?"
The battleship had hummed and refused to reply to the comment. She found contributing to Janes and other journals to be both relaxing and fulfilling. Better to spend what limited free time she had on something she enjoyed, instead of something frivolous like furniture. She hadn't really planned on getting any visitors, at least not until she'd gotten a better home for herself. Still, things were pretty bare in here…
"Alright." The heavy cruiser finished, applying the last patch of transparent tape she had and taking a step back from the lamp to study the room. "That's going to be the best lighting we can get."
The battleship looked up from the power strip she'd plugged in, wires spreading from the strip to the trio of lamps arrayed just out of view of her camera. Besides her bed, her main room now boasted the sum of all furniture in her apartment.
"Let's see." She muttered, flicking the switch to 'RESET.'
Prinz Eugen nodded approvingly.
"Looks pretty good." The light cruiser noted, adjusting the paper she'd taped over the reading light. "Plenty of illumination, but it should be soft enough to prevent any glare.
"You seem like you have experience." The battleship noted. "Have you been producing videos?"
"Photography." Prinz Eugen smiled.
Huh. She'd learned something new about her closest comrade today.
"You'll have to show me some of your work after this." The battleship noted, straightening her jacket.
"I- yeah!" The cruiser nodded, face flushing in embarrassment. "I just started, so nothing is that interesting, but…"
"I'm looking forward to it." The battleship soothed, the diversion from her grim mission welcome. With a lean, she checked her phone— verifying the shot with both bookshelves framing a blank wall— before sighing and straightening.
Stepping around the camera, the battleship positioned herself between the two bookcases, smoothed out her tailored suit again, and took a deep, calming breath.
With a nod, Prinz Eugen tapped something on the battleship's phone, then flashed an encouraging thumbs up.
Showtime.
"Good afternoon." The battleship spoke into the camera. "My name is Bismarck."
Her English wasn't as good as she'd like. Her vocabulary, of course she'd improved to a standard equal to many native English speakers, but her pronunciation…
"I will start by saying that I am speaking to you as myself, not as a member of Deutsch Marine or Allied Maritime Command." The battleship spoke, hoping Americans didn't mind her accent. "The opinions I express are solely my own, shaped by my experiences in both of my lives, my many… encounters with abyssals in the Atlantic, and several intelligence documents I'm not at liberty to reference. Please refrain from passing any judgment on my colleagues for what I'm about to say."
Prinz Eugen's English was much better than Bismarck's, especially when it came to American dialects. Because of this, the way her encouraging smile turned brittle was a good sign Bismarck was understandable, at least.
"If you're watching this, I will assume you know my history. For the entirety of my previous life, I served Adolf Hitler and the National Socialist Party."
The smile was gone from Prinz Eugen's face, now.
"Many former Axis members say that they did not agree with the wars of expansion their nations waged. I do not doubt them, but such was not the case for myself.
"I was born, raised, and sunk knowing little beyond the words and stories of the party. It's true that the Kriegsmarine was less loyal to Hitler's cause than the other armed forces, but…"
The battleship shook her head, the premonition that the next words in the script she'd written wouldn't sound right coming to her. Quietly, she skipped the rest of the sentence.
"When I returned, everything about the modern world was a shock to me. The technology, the political situation, but most importantly, the knowledge of the evils my country committed under Nazi Party.
"If not for the help of friends like Prinz Eugen, former enemies like Hood and Prince of Wales, and the overwhelming support of the German people, I would be in a much darker place then I am today." The battleship realized a smile had snuck onto her features, and allowed it to linger. "Europe is much better now than it was in 1941. I'd like to think that, thanks to them, I'm a better person than the woman I was then as well."
Bismarck sighed, mentally bracing herself for the next part of her speech.
"That brings me to the topic I need to talk to you about: Trinitite."
Prinz Eugen's face went white. Almost everyone Bismarck knew had an opinion on the renegade carrier, and many had asked the former princess for hers, but she'd kept it to herself until now. The heavy cruiser had been among the number, of course. Her offer of support if the news uncovered any nasty memories was touching, but the battleship had quietly kept her thoughts to herself regardless. Bismarck had said she'd needed time to think about it, which had been true, but there had been plenty of opportunities to confide in the heavy cruiser.
In hindsight, that had been a mistake. She'd have to apologize to her later.
"I have been keeping myself as informed as possible on the situation developing in Washington, from public news to documents provided by the Office of Naval intelligence. The picture these reports paint is… terrifyingly familiar.
"Trinitite was born at some time in 2020, months after the first abyssals appeared. Her entire existence up until the Battle of Bikini was in the Crossroads Fleet, a doomsday cult that mostly kept to itself.
"Everything that young woman knew was what was told to her by her delusional Princess, what the genocidal monsters her fleet occasionally dealt with spoke of, and our best efforts as humanity to see her sunk."
As she spoke, the battleship's thoughts drifted away from the carrier and across dark, fragmented memories of a proud fleet, led to their doom by a mad woman with a poisoned tongue.
You'll remember me, won't you, Princess?
"Then, we destroyed the rest of her fleet. Killed everyone she's ever known. I agree that it was just— the Crossroads fleet were enabling the greater war of extermination by protecting convoys— but I would be surprised if those thoughts ever crossed her mind.
"With what we know about her, the restraint she's shown in the United States is amazing. This abyssal aircraft carrier hasn't killed any human since the Battle of Bikini. She isn't innocent, but considering she's at war with the United States, her conduct speaks to a strength of character exceeding anything we could have expected."
Some of Bismarck's post-purification memories echoed in her mind. The shame of knowing she'd betrayed her people. The shock of a Germany completely alien to her. The profound sense of loss she'd felt as her research— her own research, separate from the orientation presentations she'd sat through— undermined everything she'd known was true in her past life.
"When I think of her, isolated in a world entirely alien to her, I am reminded of my own experience in modern civilization, confronted by a society and set of values alien to me. I had the fortune of everyone's support. Trinitite? There is no doubt that she finds Washington to be even more alien to her, her worldview even more thoroughly shattered— and there is no one to help her grapple with such a revelation."
That feeling of being adrift, the fear that came from rebuilding herself… it was something Bismark was still working on, and if nobody had been there for her…
"She might still be a monster. Many abyssals have committed crimes that can never be forgiven, but I think it's safe to say that the cult that ruled Bikini Atoll was less evil than the one that raped Europe in the 1940s. I was a member of that cult, a true believer in the Nazi Party and what it stood for, and yet my comrades and I are proof that we can free ourselves from that ideological poison and become defenders of a free and just society."
Yes, Bismarck considered herself proof that the damage caused by a lifetime of exposure to evil rhetoric wasn't permanent or unrecoverable. While she couldn't prove abyssals could be rescued from the cults that made them monsters… the Americans could.
"I understand that what I am going to suggest is dangerous. I don't know anything more about abyssals than the men in ONI, and the potential for damage Trinitite could do is appalling, but this is the first abyssal we've truly caught alone. Trinitite has no Princess— Her former allies in the Pacific betrayed her fleet. She is The Bikini Fleet, an independent diplomatic entity, and from what we've seen she's far more reasonable than any Princess out there."
Prinz Eugen's shock was gone, now, but the concern that marred her visage remained. A deep frown was setting into her features, now. There was going to be a conversation after she finished recording.
"America's power lies in many things: Geography, industry, technology, but I agree with those that say its greatest strength lies in its national identity. Anyone from across the world, with the correct attitude and a clean record, could become American. Sikorsky, Tesla, Szilard— these minds weren't born in the United States, but saw their best chance at life there. No matter their background, their talents, or their previous achievements, they all became American."
That wasn't entirely accurate, she knew. Of course, the battleship could speak for just as long about things she didn't like about the country, most notably their sparse appearance in Europe despite their NATO commitments. However, considering her intended audience, those complaints could remain unvoiced.
"This is your greatest strength. Some of the best minds on the planet come to America, looking for a brighter future. The greatest talent. It's an advantage we in Europe have just started to understand.
"Trinitite's war is over. She is hungry, tired, and poor. Abyssals may be naturally evil, but the way this Wo-class has treated the humans in her life has shown us there's a potential to rise above that nature, if we can give her the opportunity."
Bismarck abruptly realized she was leaning forward, and made an effort to straighten her back and square her shoulders.
"As someone who's been on the front lines of this war for as long as she's been able, I am begging you to extend Lady Liberty's hand to this Trinitite. Give her a chance to end the war with dignity, to step into the open and join that two-hundred-year experiment.
"Abyssals are born loyal to their Princess, but that might not be a guarantee. Most of you haven't seen the reports I've read on how Princesses keep their subordinates in line, the fear and abuse and lies they depend on. Humanity is not at war with a force of nature. It isn't at war with an empire. We're fighting ten-dozen cults of personality, demons abusing and gaslighting newborn spirits until they've become monstrous pawns, puppets that have caused immeasurable suffering."
Bismarck did not cry. Battleships did not cry, but as she made her final plea, she suddenly found she had to blink away something that was blurring her vision.
"If you can prove to the world, to the members born in these cults, that there's an alternative to being the perfect little pawns of their tyrant commanders— the abyssal war effort could start to fracture. We could make some real progress towards ending this. Trinitite might be the only opportunity humanity has to do that in a long time."
The battleship leaned forwards to the camera, her hands grasping at her pleated slacks as she said her closing words.
"Please, people of America, don't squander that opportunity."
With that, she nodded to Eugen. The heavy cruiser quietly leaned over and tapped the phone, before speaking.
"Bismarck…" The cruiser started, concern weighing down her words.
"Prinz." The battleship answered. "Thank you for your help."
"I… I didn't know you felt that way."
"I needed time to get my thoughts together." Bismarck stated. "I didn't want to tell anyone until I knew how to really express myself."
"You don't have to tell everyone!" Prinz snapped. "I know you talk with American Intelligence on this, just pass your suggestion to them!"
"They don't have enough power to make a decision." The battleship justified. "Trinitite is a political issue now. The public needed to know."
"They aren't going to listen!" The heavy cruiser insisted. "Bismarck, if you post that online, everybody's going to call you an enemy sympathizer! You're going to be crucified!"
"Perhaps."
Prinz Eugen seemed to deflate, slumping in her chair. Seeing the heavy cruiser wasn't convincing, she continued.
"Prinz, we aren't living in the old Germany, and I'm too important to lock away. The worst I can expect is ridicule and maybe some advancement opportunities."
"You're too stubborn." The heavy cruiser pouted. "...damn, I thought this was gonna be like one of your defense papers. People aren't going to like this."
"I know."
The heavy cruiser met Bismarck's gaze.
"...but you have to do it."
"I do."
"This won't bring them back, you know."
"...it might save someone." The battleship asserted. "Isn't a life more valuable than a reputation?"
Besides, Trinitite was setting a precedent. If there was hope for her, there was hope for the fleet under her sister's sway, too.
Seeing the battleship wasn't going to change her mind, Prinz Eugen sighed, standing and absentmindedly fixing her hair.
"Okay. No matter what happens, I'm still with you."
"I couldn't ask for anything more."
"You know how to put that online?"
There was a moment of silence.
"You don't." Eugen deadpanned.
"I'll figure it out."
"Okay…" Bismarck's closest friend looked toward her skeptically. "Do you have a Youtube account?"
"Not… yet." she admitted.
"Alright." The cruiser nodded. "I assume you want a lot of people to see this?"
"I already sent an oped to the New York Times."
"Oh." Prinz's eyes widened. "Guess there's been no turning back for a while then." With a sigh, she produced her own phone and started working on it.
"I'm ordering food." She reported. "There's a lot of things we're gonna have to do if you want this to go viral."
Oh boy, it always feels like it takes too long to get one of these out. This time, I had this done for a bit, but wasn't able to get online for a while. I also had two other sections planned for this interlude, but I feel like Bismarck's part is enough. Besides, the contents of the second section are probably better as a surprise, and for the third... I'll be honest, I'll take whatever excuse I can to avoid writing everyone's favorite PI.
Hope you enjoyed!
Hope you enjoyed!
Jonen C
F.M.D.G.
- Location
- Lincopense, Ostrogothia, Suecia
... I'm not convinced that the "dopey, idiotic grin" isn't a crazed manic slasher smile, Nash.
And good to see Bismarck is taking steps to live up to her namesakes legacy as a political actor.
- Pronouns
- Reader
wow. What a ship. Bismark simps will riot to dry her tears. Eugen is a great friend.
I hope Trinitites bunk mate shows her this video.
I hope Trinitites bunk mate shows her this video.
PyrrhicSteel
Look natural.
- Location
- Idaho
Hmm, that might explain some of her (lack of) success in the field of romance... among other things. The idea of her looking like a psychopaths without being one is actually pretty funny.
- Pronouns
- Reader
Actually how is Saratoga going to react? If Bismarck is going this far, she'll definitely feel pressured to act.
xbox432
Lover of Editing
...So what kind of pictures is Eugen taking? She's totally got a blog where she shows photos of her building model ships, doesn't she? The harlot.
On a more serious note, I loved Bismark's word's. They felt like they came from the heart, and a LOT of introspection. And it's going to throw shockwaves through the political sphere, not to mention how the various Kanmusu will react... And yeah, I really do hope that Trin gets a chance to see the video.
On a more serious note, I loved Bismark's word's. They felt like they came from the heart, and a LOT of introspection. And it's going to throw shockwaves through the political sphere, not to mention how the various Kanmusu will react... And yeah, I really do hope that Trin gets a chance to see the video.
jesus
Arasaka VTuber PsyOps
I do sometimes wonder if being made to be more actively, performatively American makes immigrants there self-identify more strongly as American than equivalent migrants to other neo-European colony nations like Canada, Australia, or New Zealand.