1.6 - Leviathan
Erien
God's Weakest Soldier
- Location
- Georgia
- Pronouns
- He/Him
[USS Leviathan]
A converted German Liner of the first World War, she carried nearly as many planes as the Essex did, and her manners around the fleet were legendary. Though she apparently had some… quirks of her own.
—
I look at the paper for several moments, she was going to be headed to Norfolk. She was being prepared to sail out into the Atlantic, she was… a carrier. I lower the paper slowly, looking at Kidd in both alarm and confusion. The painkillers weren't helping in that regard. "You're moving me onto a carrier? My specialty is destroyer operations."
Kidd smiles, then sits on a chair beside the bed. "Steven," the Admiral's eyes flit to the floor, and for a moment, he shows his age. "It's bad out there, we're not on the ropes but we're on the backfoot. You have training in carriers, even if only from Annapolis, and the Navy needs every officer it has with that training right now. We have destroyermen, we need someone to fill the slots for the carriers. Leviathan hadn't been assigned a permanent CO yet, she's been undergoing refits for the last five years." He then looks up at me. "You have the slot, it's not my order, it's Truman's."
"The Secretary of the Navy assigned me?"
"DC's currently on fire, not literally, thankfully, not yet," Kidd says with a sigh. "But yes, many things are moving around in a hurry now."
"Cassin's going to be beyond furious." I reply. "And regardless, I haven't been aboard a carrier since Annapolis."
"You'll have to get up to speed quickly then," Kidd replies. "You up for it?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Not particularly."
"Then absolutely, sir."
Kidd's lip turns slightly upwards. "We're the same rank now, Admiral."
I sigh, and lift up my arm to wave my hand, only to recall… I was missing that hand. "Does that mean I can walk on water now?"
"Glad you see you haven't lost your sense of humor, Stevens," Kidd replies, smiling now.
"The Good Lord knows I don't get by on my good looks and firm handshake," I say, smiling back. "When do they think I'll be getting out of here? And who am I serving under?"
"Few days, doctor's managed to remove most of the metal from your side. You'll be sore for a while yet. As for the second question, we're still sorting all that out, we're putting together a task group for you, Leviathan will be your flagship… Cassin's coming along, she'd make too much noise otherwise."
"That she would," I admit. "I assume I'll be getting my orders once aboard?"
Kidd nods. "You just focus on resting, and brace yourself, you're likely getting tackled by a destroyer the moment you step out of this hospital."
"Risk of the job," I reply. "How's Arizona by the way?"
"Superficial damage… but the woman…" Kidd frowns. "Pennsylvania is a total loss, she detonated. Downes didn't get out either, Cassin… she hasn't mentioned her sister at all."
"... I'll handle it."
Kidd reaches forward, placing his hand on my arm. Then he stands. "Get some rest Anderson."
Then he was gone, leaving me alone on the bed with nothing but the sound of hissing machines and groaning men. Sleep, at the very least, came easy.
—
Dec 14th.
—
"Captain!" Kidd's warning was, as expected of an Admiral, accurate but less than useful. As there was only so much one could do when a young woman who was capable of moving at the speed of a racecar slammed into my midsection to hug me the moment I stepped out of the hospital.
I grunt, taking several steps back and doing my best to ignore the sudden, rapid, and unwelcome pain shooting up my back. My hand and stump move on instinct, wrapping around the destroyer as she clutches me for dear life.
"You're okay!" Cassin wails, pulling back to look me over. "You can walk, which is good as I was really worried when you fell off the bridge and landed on all the glass and OH DEAR GOD YOU ARE MISSING A HAND!?"
My right arm is raised forcefully, revealing the bandaged stump there. The destroyer is looking between it, and me with alarm.
"I'll be fine Cassin," then I place my remaining hand on her shoulder and lead her to a bench just nearby the building. The destroy sits, then pushes herself against me as tightly as she could. "Are you doing alright?"
Cassin nods. "Got a few holes in me, but nothing bad. None of our crew is hurt either, some of Helena's guys were, but Jones and the like are fine." Cassin says, finishing off the statement with a smile. "Oh, Helena is already floating again too! They got her up this morning!"
"That's… that's good, are you… doing alright, personally Cassin?" I ask.
"Yeah?" Cassin asks, looking confused.
Oh, to hell with it. "Downes?" I prompt.
Cassin's mouth opens, then closes. "I…" She looks forward, toward the harbor itself. "When do we leave Captain?"
I say nothing for several moments, staring at the destroyer avoiding the question I asked entirely. Then I lean forward, idly gripping my right wrist with my left hand. "I'm still healing up, they had to remove a lot of shrapnel from me. I'm also no longer a Captain."
"They drummed you ou-" Cassin's head whips back, then she pauses, her mouth hanging open. She closes it a moment later, squinting. "Oh, oh they promoted you!" she wraps her arms around me once more, pressing her face against my shoulder as she looks at the star on my shoulder. "That's amazing, so… guess I'm an Admiral too then?"
Shipgirl rankings were a rather simple affair, the shipgirl held the same rank as her commanding officer. It kept things easy to maintain and monitor and allowed a rather easy hierarchy to be established. Of course, it also from time to time let a destroyer order a battleship around, but then… shipgirls tended to not follow the orders of other shipgirls. It was mostly a prestige thing.
"Captain," I reply. "They're putting me in charge of the Leviathan. They need someone with carrier experience. Jones will be taking you over, while I will head the Leviathan as the flag of a new taskgroup."
"So after all that I'm losing you?" Cassin asks, tears starting to form.
"Do you think I'd let them do that?" I reply. "No, you're part of the task group, I'm just changing what ship I'm living on day to day." In truth, I had no control over where she was going. But the Navy knew better than to separate a shipgirl from someone she had grown close to over a half-decade. And Officer's were allowed to lie. "I don't know when we'll be going, I'm heading over to Leviathan today to meet her. But you aren't going anywhere without me."
Tears were still coming down Cassin's face. "No, no you're lying, they are taking you away from me!"
I smile, moving my hand to her face. "You think I'd leave you?"
"Not… not without buying me 'Anderson's better Ice-Cream'." Cassin says, sniffling.
…
"Cassin I'm going to throw you into the harbor."
"One-handed?"
I smile, "perhaps it's not too late to write to Truman and ask him to remove you from my task group."
"What, and lose the best destroyer in the fleet?" Cassin asks with a grin.
—
The Leviathan was an odd vessel, a cruise liner converted to a troop ship converted to an aircraft carrier. She still had the hallmarks of her past. She was a long vessel, with a bow that jutted out past the flight deck. She was gray, like every other ship in the fleet, but her deck was bright redwood that stuck out and helped her look rather flashy. Fitting, considering what I knew of the shipgirl herself. The officer manning the gangway was looking at me with stars in his eyes, the poor man couldn't have been older than eighteen, and I was likely the first star he'd ever seen. My visit to the ship, my first visit to my new home was deliberately lowkey, I never desired ceremony, and I'd rather see my ship as it was, then what it was spruced up to be.
That, and with the amount of work going on in Pearl at the moment, the sparks flying from welding torches, the cranes moving supplies around, the men still covered in oil from the water… it felt inappropriate. The deck was empty at the moment, no planes were sitting upon it, tractors laid about, idly and unused, and no men were stationed along the guns either. It was… a quiet vessel, the only signs of life being two men standing just by the door to the bridge staircase. One was younger, with thin cut brown hair and an air of young nervousness about himself. The other was older, silver haired, and looked completely relaxed as he leaned against the tower and smoked a cigarette. They were a study in contrasts, they were also, obviously, pilots.
Why else would the silver haired man be wearing tan overalls and cowboy boots on the flight deck?
I begin making my way towards them, stopping just before the door. The two men, having been in conversation with each other, don't pay me much mind until I'm right up on them. Then the younger of the two men jolts, and the older simply removes the cigarette from his mouth and straightens up.
"Admiral Stevens." The older one says after a moment of looking at my shoulder boards. "It's a pleasure to meet you." His voice was accented German, though of the sort that had been in the states for a while.
"Likewise…" I prompt.
"Lieutenant Commander Ernst Schreiber," the man takes another drag of his cigarette before flicking it off the deck and into the water. "Commander of your air group."
"And how is our airgroup doing?" I ask.
Ernst tilts his head towards the rear elevator. "Thirty two Hellcats, twenty-six Helldivers, and twenty-two Avengers." He then produces another cigarette. "The planes are in good shape, the pilots…" Ernst shoots a look to the man standing awkwardly beside him. "They'll learn."
"Rather blunt man, aren't you?"
Ernst shrugs, then lights the cigarette. "I didn't come into this hair from age alone. Are you looking for the girl?"
"Yes, where is she?"
Ernst points a finger straight up. "On the flag bridge, though she won't be happy to see you."
"And why is that?"
At that the man pauses, he weighs his words for a moment before speaking once more. "It's best you speak to her yourself, sir."
I smile, "well, I thank you for your candidness. Expect flight operations to begin soon, the both of you." My eyes flick then to the other man. "Your name?"
"Er… Bauer sir!" the younger man replies, a thick German accent coming out.
My smile widens a touch, then I step past them both and into the bridge tower.
"That guy was old for a pilot," Cassin says after the second staircase.
"It happens, especially when you have experience." I reply. "And he looked about the same age I am, am I old Cassin?"
Cassin says nothing until we make it to the bridge.
—
The bridge was far, far larger than that of the Cassin and broken up into three levels. However, with the amount of equipment around it is still cramped. It was, regardless, far higher as well. I had to climb five flights of stairs to actually reach the flag bridge, the highest level, and the most open at that. Little was up here besides compasses and radio sets, with a chart along the wall for marking ship positions and a hallway behind me for charts and maps. Setup so that multiple men would be working to keep track of things. Cassin had much the same, only it was a far, far smaller space and it involved a lot of yelling to keep track of things.
This was, in comparison, palatial.
The other two bridges, the navigation and command bridge, were equally large. But I had skipped over both of them, and my cabin to instead make my way all the way up to the top. After all, I had someone to meet. Only one person was present on the flag bridge, I had seen and heard others coming up. But in port, with no command, the flag bridge served little purpose. Unlike on the Cassin, the windows here contained no glass, and standing just by the fore window, with her hands held tight behind her back was a woman in a red dress. She was tall, that was the first thing I noted; she easily cleared me by a full head and a bit more, her hair brushing the ceiling as she turned her head to look back at me. Blonde hair, kept in a tight, controlled bun shifted ever so slightly, and blue eyes snapped to me like a predator. Leviathan was dressed to the nines, in a long red dress with a slit at the waist to reveal her legs. High heels of gold, and white gloves. She had a reputation for being in a continuous contest with St. Louis to be the classiest woman in the fleet, though… none of that was immediately present.
For she was frowning, her eyes looking me up and down like something to be studied. "English?" she finally says, her tone soft but clipped, with a German accent.
"Irish, second generation. No mainland Europe in my bloodline that I'm aware of."
The frown disappears, instead… she adopts a practiced, neutral expression that shows precisely nothing. "I specifically requested a German commander to complement my German crew. I will not sail with any other."
"I'm afraid there I have to disappoint, might I ask why?"
"I wish for revenge against those bastardizing my country," Leviathan stands a bit more proudly. "I was built in Prussia. My crew is made of those who wish the same as I do, I informed the Navy that I didn't wish to be commanded by a non-German."
The sentiment is understandable, if highly impractical. But then, shipgirls tend to be impractical by nature. How was one meant to argue with a ship? It was a common mistake to see them as merely representatives, or avatars of the vessel. They weren't: they were the vessel. They were to the ship where the consciousness was. They weren't an extension. What the ship desired, the woman desired, what the ship wanted, the girl wanted.
In this case, the ship wanted revenge. "That may not have been an issue before the war, Leviathan. But we lost a good deal of good men, we don't have the luxury of choice."
"I will not sail unless I have a German Captain."
I stare at her, "then you shall rot here, in the dock, accomplishing nothing but rusting your hull as others deal with the war and you are labeled a traitor. Is that what you desire?" Perhaps I was grumpy, the painkillers were wearing off, it was hot in the flag bridge, and I had little desire to entertain this nonsense. Perhaps I was just feeling insulted.
Leviathan stares back, then turns her head and disappears from view, leaving me alone on the bridge with Cassin.
"... Wow, bitch." The destroyer comments.
"She's feeling frustrated, frankly, so am I," I reply with a sigh.
"Yeah, frustrated is a good excuse for racism, we sure she isn't a Naz-"
The siren on the left side of the bridge, just next to Cassin for that matter, wails. The destroyer recoils, covering her ears. "Jesus! Okay!"
Cassin rubs her left ear, then looks at me. "What are we gonna do Admiral?"
…
—
Welcome to the people management part of the quest.
[] [Find Leviathan]
The shipgirls, when annoyed or wanting to be left alone. Usually retreat to the 'intelligence chamber' or the 'cube room' in more common parlance. It's where their wisdom cube, their 'soul' was stored.
[] [Find my Quarters]
The pain was returning, and I didn't feel much like arguing. A good way to catch up with Cassin as well.
[] [Explore the Vessel]
See who else was around, perhaps I could find my XO and Chief Petty Officer.
A converted German Liner of the first World War, she carried nearly as many planes as the Essex did, and her manners around the fleet were legendary. Though she apparently had some… quirks of her own.
—
I look at the paper for several moments, she was going to be headed to Norfolk. She was being prepared to sail out into the Atlantic, she was… a carrier. I lower the paper slowly, looking at Kidd in both alarm and confusion. The painkillers weren't helping in that regard. "You're moving me onto a carrier? My specialty is destroyer operations."
Kidd smiles, then sits on a chair beside the bed. "Steven," the Admiral's eyes flit to the floor, and for a moment, he shows his age. "It's bad out there, we're not on the ropes but we're on the backfoot. You have training in carriers, even if only from Annapolis, and the Navy needs every officer it has with that training right now. We have destroyermen, we need someone to fill the slots for the carriers. Leviathan hadn't been assigned a permanent CO yet, she's been undergoing refits for the last five years." He then looks up at me. "You have the slot, it's not my order, it's Truman's."
"The Secretary of the Navy assigned me?"
"DC's currently on fire, not literally, thankfully, not yet," Kidd says with a sigh. "But yes, many things are moving around in a hurry now."
"Cassin's going to be beyond furious." I reply. "And regardless, I haven't been aboard a carrier since Annapolis."
"You'll have to get up to speed quickly then," Kidd replies. "You up for it?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Not particularly."
"Then absolutely, sir."
Kidd's lip turns slightly upwards. "We're the same rank now, Admiral."
I sigh, and lift up my arm to wave my hand, only to recall… I was missing that hand. "Does that mean I can walk on water now?"
"Glad you see you haven't lost your sense of humor, Stevens," Kidd replies, smiling now.
"The Good Lord knows I don't get by on my good looks and firm handshake," I say, smiling back. "When do they think I'll be getting out of here? And who am I serving under?"
"Few days, doctor's managed to remove most of the metal from your side. You'll be sore for a while yet. As for the second question, we're still sorting all that out, we're putting together a task group for you, Leviathan will be your flagship… Cassin's coming along, she'd make too much noise otherwise."
"That she would," I admit. "I assume I'll be getting my orders once aboard?"
Kidd nods. "You just focus on resting, and brace yourself, you're likely getting tackled by a destroyer the moment you step out of this hospital."
"Risk of the job," I reply. "How's Arizona by the way?"
"Superficial damage… but the woman…" Kidd frowns. "Pennsylvania is a total loss, she detonated. Downes didn't get out either, Cassin… she hasn't mentioned her sister at all."
"... I'll handle it."
Kidd reaches forward, placing his hand on my arm. Then he stands. "Get some rest Anderson."
Then he was gone, leaving me alone on the bed with nothing but the sound of hissing machines and groaning men. Sleep, at the very least, came easy.
—
Dec 14th.
—
"Captain!" Kidd's warning was, as expected of an Admiral, accurate but less than useful. As there was only so much one could do when a young woman who was capable of moving at the speed of a racecar slammed into my midsection to hug me the moment I stepped out of the hospital.
I grunt, taking several steps back and doing my best to ignore the sudden, rapid, and unwelcome pain shooting up my back. My hand and stump move on instinct, wrapping around the destroyer as she clutches me for dear life.
"You're okay!" Cassin wails, pulling back to look me over. "You can walk, which is good as I was really worried when you fell off the bridge and landed on all the glass and OH DEAR GOD YOU ARE MISSING A HAND!?"
My right arm is raised forcefully, revealing the bandaged stump there. The destroyer is looking between it, and me with alarm.
"I'll be fine Cassin," then I place my remaining hand on her shoulder and lead her to a bench just nearby the building. The destroy sits, then pushes herself against me as tightly as she could. "Are you doing alright?"
Cassin nods. "Got a few holes in me, but nothing bad. None of our crew is hurt either, some of Helena's guys were, but Jones and the like are fine." Cassin says, finishing off the statement with a smile. "Oh, Helena is already floating again too! They got her up this morning!"
"That's… that's good, are you… doing alright, personally Cassin?" I ask.
"Yeah?" Cassin asks, looking confused.
Oh, to hell with it. "Downes?" I prompt.
Cassin's mouth opens, then closes. "I…" She looks forward, toward the harbor itself. "When do we leave Captain?"
I say nothing for several moments, staring at the destroyer avoiding the question I asked entirely. Then I lean forward, idly gripping my right wrist with my left hand. "I'm still healing up, they had to remove a lot of shrapnel from me. I'm also no longer a Captain."
"They drummed you ou-" Cassin's head whips back, then she pauses, her mouth hanging open. She closes it a moment later, squinting. "Oh, oh they promoted you!" she wraps her arms around me once more, pressing her face against my shoulder as she looks at the star on my shoulder. "That's amazing, so… guess I'm an Admiral too then?"
Shipgirl rankings were a rather simple affair, the shipgirl held the same rank as her commanding officer. It kept things easy to maintain and monitor and allowed a rather easy hierarchy to be established. Of course, it also from time to time let a destroyer order a battleship around, but then… shipgirls tended to not follow the orders of other shipgirls. It was mostly a prestige thing.
"Captain," I reply. "They're putting me in charge of the Leviathan. They need someone with carrier experience. Jones will be taking you over, while I will head the Leviathan as the flag of a new taskgroup."
"So after all that I'm losing you?" Cassin asks, tears starting to form.
"Do you think I'd let them do that?" I reply. "No, you're part of the task group, I'm just changing what ship I'm living on day to day." In truth, I had no control over where she was going. But the Navy knew better than to separate a shipgirl from someone she had grown close to over a half-decade. And Officer's were allowed to lie. "I don't know when we'll be going, I'm heading over to Leviathan today to meet her. But you aren't going anywhere without me."
Tears were still coming down Cassin's face. "No, no you're lying, they are taking you away from me!"
I smile, moving my hand to her face. "You think I'd leave you?"
"Not… not without buying me 'Anderson's better Ice-Cream'." Cassin says, sniffling.
…
"Cassin I'm going to throw you into the harbor."
"One-handed?"
I smile, "perhaps it's not too late to write to Truman and ask him to remove you from my task group."
"What, and lose the best destroyer in the fleet?" Cassin asks with a grin.
—
The Leviathan was an odd vessel, a cruise liner converted to a troop ship converted to an aircraft carrier. She still had the hallmarks of her past. She was a long vessel, with a bow that jutted out past the flight deck. She was gray, like every other ship in the fleet, but her deck was bright redwood that stuck out and helped her look rather flashy. Fitting, considering what I knew of the shipgirl herself. The officer manning the gangway was looking at me with stars in his eyes, the poor man couldn't have been older than eighteen, and I was likely the first star he'd ever seen. My visit to the ship, my first visit to my new home was deliberately lowkey, I never desired ceremony, and I'd rather see my ship as it was, then what it was spruced up to be.
That, and with the amount of work going on in Pearl at the moment, the sparks flying from welding torches, the cranes moving supplies around, the men still covered in oil from the water… it felt inappropriate. The deck was empty at the moment, no planes were sitting upon it, tractors laid about, idly and unused, and no men were stationed along the guns either. It was… a quiet vessel, the only signs of life being two men standing just by the door to the bridge staircase. One was younger, with thin cut brown hair and an air of young nervousness about himself. The other was older, silver haired, and looked completely relaxed as he leaned against the tower and smoked a cigarette. They were a study in contrasts, they were also, obviously, pilots.
Why else would the silver haired man be wearing tan overalls and cowboy boots on the flight deck?
I begin making my way towards them, stopping just before the door. The two men, having been in conversation with each other, don't pay me much mind until I'm right up on them. Then the younger of the two men jolts, and the older simply removes the cigarette from his mouth and straightens up.
"Admiral Stevens." The older one says after a moment of looking at my shoulder boards. "It's a pleasure to meet you." His voice was accented German, though of the sort that had been in the states for a while.
"Likewise…" I prompt.
"Lieutenant Commander Ernst Schreiber," the man takes another drag of his cigarette before flicking it off the deck and into the water. "Commander of your air group."
"And how is our airgroup doing?" I ask.
Ernst tilts his head towards the rear elevator. "Thirty two Hellcats, twenty-six Helldivers, and twenty-two Avengers." He then produces another cigarette. "The planes are in good shape, the pilots…" Ernst shoots a look to the man standing awkwardly beside him. "They'll learn."
"Rather blunt man, aren't you?"
Ernst shrugs, then lights the cigarette. "I didn't come into this hair from age alone. Are you looking for the girl?"
"Yes, where is she?"
Ernst points a finger straight up. "On the flag bridge, though she won't be happy to see you."
"And why is that?"
At that the man pauses, he weighs his words for a moment before speaking once more. "It's best you speak to her yourself, sir."
I smile, "well, I thank you for your candidness. Expect flight operations to begin soon, the both of you." My eyes flick then to the other man. "Your name?"
"Er… Bauer sir!" the younger man replies, a thick German accent coming out.
My smile widens a touch, then I step past them both and into the bridge tower.
"That guy was old for a pilot," Cassin says after the second staircase.
"It happens, especially when you have experience." I reply. "And he looked about the same age I am, am I old Cassin?"
Cassin says nothing until we make it to the bridge.
—
The bridge was far, far larger than that of the Cassin and broken up into three levels. However, with the amount of equipment around it is still cramped. It was, regardless, far higher as well. I had to climb five flights of stairs to actually reach the flag bridge, the highest level, and the most open at that. Little was up here besides compasses and radio sets, with a chart along the wall for marking ship positions and a hallway behind me for charts and maps. Setup so that multiple men would be working to keep track of things. Cassin had much the same, only it was a far, far smaller space and it involved a lot of yelling to keep track of things.
This was, in comparison, palatial.
The other two bridges, the navigation and command bridge, were equally large. But I had skipped over both of them, and my cabin to instead make my way all the way up to the top. After all, I had someone to meet. Only one person was present on the flag bridge, I had seen and heard others coming up. But in port, with no command, the flag bridge served little purpose. Unlike on the Cassin, the windows here contained no glass, and standing just by the fore window, with her hands held tight behind her back was a woman in a red dress. She was tall, that was the first thing I noted; she easily cleared me by a full head and a bit more, her hair brushing the ceiling as she turned her head to look back at me. Blonde hair, kept in a tight, controlled bun shifted ever so slightly, and blue eyes snapped to me like a predator. Leviathan was dressed to the nines, in a long red dress with a slit at the waist to reveal her legs. High heels of gold, and white gloves. She had a reputation for being in a continuous contest with St. Louis to be the classiest woman in the fleet, though… none of that was immediately present.
For she was frowning, her eyes looking me up and down like something to be studied. "English?" she finally says, her tone soft but clipped, with a German accent.
"Irish, second generation. No mainland Europe in my bloodline that I'm aware of."
The frown disappears, instead… she adopts a practiced, neutral expression that shows precisely nothing. "I specifically requested a German commander to complement my German crew. I will not sail with any other."
"I'm afraid there I have to disappoint, might I ask why?"
"I wish for revenge against those bastardizing my country," Leviathan stands a bit more proudly. "I was built in Prussia. My crew is made of those who wish the same as I do, I informed the Navy that I didn't wish to be commanded by a non-German."
The sentiment is understandable, if highly impractical. But then, shipgirls tend to be impractical by nature. How was one meant to argue with a ship? It was a common mistake to see them as merely representatives, or avatars of the vessel. They weren't: they were the vessel. They were to the ship where the consciousness was. They weren't an extension. What the ship desired, the woman desired, what the ship wanted, the girl wanted.
In this case, the ship wanted revenge. "That may not have been an issue before the war, Leviathan. But we lost a good deal of good men, we don't have the luxury of choice."
"I will not sail unless I have a German Captain."
I stare at her, "then you shall rot here, in the dock, accomplishing nothing but rusting your hull as others deal with the war and you are labeled a traitor. Is that what you desire?" Perhaps I was grumpy, the painkillers were wearing off, it was hot in the flag bridge, and I had little desire to entertain this nonsense. Perhaps I was just feeling insulted.
Leviathan stares back, then turns her head and disappears from view, leaving me alone on the bridge with Cassin.
"... Wow, bitch." The destroyer comments.
"She's feeling frustrated, frankly, so am I," I reply with a sigh.
"Yeah, frustrated is a good excuse for racism, we sure she isn't a Naz-"
The siren on the left side of the bridge, just next to Cassin for that matter, wails. The destroyer recoils, covering her ears. "Jesus! Okay!"
Cassin rubs her left ear, then looks at me. "What are we gonna do Admiral?"
…
—
Welcome to the people management part of the quest.
[] [Find Leviathan]
The shipgirls, when annoyed or wanting to be left alone. Usually retreat to the 'intelligence chamber' or the 'cube room' in more common parlance. It's where their wisdom cube, their 'soul' was stored.
[] [Find my Quarters]
The pain was returning, and I didn't feel much like arguing. A good way to catch up with Cassin as well.
[] [Explore the Vessel]
See who else was around, perhaps I could find my XO and Chief Petty Officer.
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