Hawaii was in a bind.
The Black Fog of the Abyss, the Miasma, the Shroud… whatever you cared to call it, had covered the Pacific ocean for over a year now, and continued to surround the island state; no matter which direction you cared to look, that oppressive blackness tainted the horizon.
It was not for lack of effort on the shipgirls' part that this was the case; without the presence of Missouri and Saratoga, among others, there was little doubt that the islands would have been overrun entirely, and it was through their hard work that the Shroud had been pushed back as far as it had.
But regardless, while coolheaded leadership, good agriculture, and the benefit of experience from a prior similar incident had carried them this far, it was becoming increasingly clear that unless they opened a path to San Diego soon, the islands would not last. They needed more heavy hitters, and resources were dwindling. Perhaps it was time to seek out alternate options…
---
"Permission to speak, sir," Commander Hopper asked, watching as several crates marked 'Caution! Sensitive Materials' and 'Top Secret' were wheeled into the summoning chamber.
Admiral Shane didn't respond at first, watching the junior officers unload the crates with an intense glare. It was only after they were gone again that he answered, albeit grudgingly. "Permission granted."
"With all due respect, sir... this is a really, really bad idea. This probably won't even work, and if it does, there's so much else that could go wrong. They might not even speak our language. They'd probably attack us on sight. And when Zapata hears about this, he's going to be on my ass about the wasted samples."
"You don't have to worry about that last one; I talked directly to him about it. He said his team had already gotten everything they could from these." Despite not having the proper background himself, the eccentric astronomer had assembled and led a team of scientists with the singular purpose of studying the debris from the incident back in 2012. To say he was protective of the samples dredged up from the sea was an understatement, and Hopper wondered if Shane had had to exercise his infamous Neeson-esque intimidation tactics to wrestle these away.
That didn't answer Hopper's other concerns, but he held his tongue; the Admiral still wasn't terribly fond of him, and it was clear he'd made up his mind about the plan; to push the issue at this point would be futile and counterproductive. He just hoped this wouldn't end poorly for them, or heaven forbid, give the Abyssals a powerful new ally.
And as memories of his brother flashed through his mind, Hopper wondered if he was just as afraid of what would happen if this plan went right.
Soon enough, the crates had been pried open, and a motley collection of artifacts, from large hexagonal panels and thick cables, to dozens of smaller pieces of equipment the Commander couldn't even begin to guess at the nature or purpose of, were set down beside a respectably large stack of fuel, ammo, steel, and bauxite. The more traditional materials also had Hopper a bit worried, both in that this was some of the last of it they had, and the possibility that the mixture may create problems.
There was a knock on the door behind them. "Come on in, Saratoga." Shane said blandly, and a certain strawberry blonde entered the room, her flight deck held aloft and ready. "I hope we won't need you, but in this case… well, you've been briefed." The carrier nodded, her usual flirtatious grin tempered by a touch of worry and a healthy dose of determination.
So the Admiral had thought this through. And of course, Hopper realized, this was being done while Missouri was away on sortie; if anything would cause problems with this plan, it would be her. Not for the first time and likely not for the last, the commander suddenly felt a bit self-conscious and regretted speaking out of turn.
At least it was a step forward from how he'd been a few years ago. The person he'd been back then wouldn't even have cared. The person he'd been back then wasn't living in a world where aliens and monsters were real and present threats.
"We're ready to begin the summoning, sir." an officer reported.
"Good," Shane responded. "Saratoga, at the ready. Everyone else, begin the ceremony."
---
Time flowed strangely during summonings. There was always a sensation of weightlessness, as though floating in the sea, and those present would see events, memories, like images overlaid over the present reality. They were identifiably historical, but never had anyone experienced this with events so recent.
Hopper saw a war, a civil war on a dark and damp planet lightyears away. So much anger, so much burning. And then peace, an awkward, unsteady thing as weapons of war were haphazardly converted to vessels of exploration. He saw darkness, the vast emptiness of space, and heard a message received mid-travel. He saw the ocean, a familiar ocean, and fire as a comrade was torn away in freefall.
And he saw himself. No, not himself; his ship. A game of cat-and-mouse amongst an unfamiliar archipelago, and a retaliatory strike after five turned into four were further whittled down. And the final confrontation; an old ship, clearly a veteran of her own wars, sailing triumphant as the frightened newcomer sunk below alien waves.
And standing before him were four new girls, alien and yet all-too-familiar.
The one in front, her eyes a scathing orange and her hair a dark metallic shade, trembled as she looked down at herself, lifting up pale yet pink and very distinctly human hands. She saw the reflection of her narrow face, entirely absent of quills, and let out a low moan that turned into a terrified shriek.
She was alien, yet strangely familiar, too, in ways she shouldn't be. "You... natives. What have you done to me?" She spat in perfect english, leaving everyone else present speechless.