Chapter 19
074 let loose a sigh of relief she didn't know she was holding, the moment the fog began to fade.
The battle had ended, it seemed. Considering how nothing else had decided to charge out of the fog at her, it had ended in their victory. She'd not even had to do much besides fire at coordinates she had received through her radio.
It was an interesting experience, having targets be marked and identified for her—though in her state, her Hime had done little in the way of explaining what exactly she was shooting at. Coordinates were great and all, but without knowing the exact size and shape of her targets, it had been all up to her own gun crews to improvise. Still, it was more effective than she had expected. Apparently, she had sunk no less than two "large ships" while essentially blind, not even counting the swarm of poorly-coordinated destroyers that had wandered into her killbox.
The poor, stupid destroyers. She'd been in their place far too many times for her liking, thrown as fodder against an enemy just to buy time for her first Princess… She shivered, remembering the unpleasant time she had spent as little more than a bullet sponge just off of the west coast of Europe.
She'd made their deaths mercifully quick, at the very least. Though her Hime had "ordered" her (more like implied), to fire from maximum range, she was a Re. Playing artillery boat was already stretching it in her eyes—there was no way she would degrade herself to playing that safely. She had closed to a new position, little more than a few hundred meters from the fog's edge.
Either way, the unfortunate destroyers had broken out of the solid fog immediately into ideal main gun range.
Their fates were pretty obvious. Four shots to center mass and they were on the seafloor.
It was time to see just what sort of mess her new Hime had left for her to clean up.
Keeping her guns trained on the last known position of the hostile fleet's core, 074 narrowed her eyes and primed her radar, waiting for vision to improve—
There! An enemy contact, Fifty four degrees starboard!
Pointing her main cannons at a barely-revealed frigate, she fired two shots, one missing, one sinking it immediately.
It didn't even attempt to dodge, to react, or even turn towards her. It just took the shot and sank.
She'd commend it's bravery at any other time, but right now? It was rather freaky.
The fog continued to clear, revealing yet more frigates… and the occasional destroyer scattered about, as well.
Most facing away. A few were facing towards her. None had even begun to turn. All were silent as a grave, without even the faintest sound of a boiler firing. A few were tossed around by the waves, bobbing up and down in the tides like forgotten toys.
Allowing herself to gulp once, 074 composed herself and carefully plotted a course towards her Hime's last known location. Surely, the insane bitch had survived, right? There'd be no way this absolute nightmare hellscape of hollow ships would be the result of anyone else.
Then again, she was a complete maniac who had closed to melee range against a victim that outweighed her—
Despite herself, 074 found herself grumbling. Being shown up by a submarine, let alone an underweight one in a duty that the Re-class was known for, excelled at even… It was something she could respect—b-but she'd still have to one-up the insane Hime in melee combat at some point! Her pride wouldn't have it any other way.
Speaking of her Hime, the submarine Princess was nowhere to be seen. Not like her being able to detect her mattered much, because of course—submarine—but still…
Clearing her throat, she fired a quick ping through the radio channels, and metaphorically weighed anchor to await a response.
She didn't need to wait long.
Rising from the depths like the unholy ghost-demon-woman-boat she was, her Hime made her appearance, still shaking and quivering in rage. The mad Hime glanced about, eyes unseeing, before she slowly turned to face her, staring straight into her soul.
The submarine's voice was weak and shaky, as she coughed out, "... G-good… We..."
The faintest echoes of the all-consuming hate that had once suffused the Hime's voice still remained, but even that was sputtering out. She had been reduced to running on metaphorical (and quite possibly literal) fumes.
It was then that 074 got a good look at the absolute state of her Hime—and immediately wished that she did not.
The submarine was a wreck, plain and simple. Her body was cratered and scabbed over, like some sort of metallic alien infection. The most horrifying part was that several of her poorly-healed wounds were glowing, emitting a pale green light not properly filtered out by the strange substance she relied upon for damage control.
"W-we…" continued the Hime, still struggling to speak, "N-not done… Can hear them gathering… Should strike now!"
The submarine wasn't serious, was she?
Painfully slowly, the Hime began to turn in place, coming to a stop facing the shore. One of 074's crew quickly climbed on top of her bridge with a pair of binoculars, then squinted into the distance—
A loud bark of alarm confirmed her own concerns.
Her leader was staring at a fleet of Kanmusu gathering there. Including a friggin' battleship. Their forms weren't distinct at this distance, and her intrepid crewmate couldn't accurately count how many ships smaller than cruiser weight were present, but still, a hard target if she ever saw one. It was a miracle that they weren't already opening fire upon them—they were probably still within artillery range, albeit at the very edge.
And her bird-brained, totalled Hime appeared to be raring up to go charging in for yet another round of glorious melee combat.
… Yeah, screw that. She knew a suicidal mission when she saw one. The moment they started approaching the Traitor fleet, they'd be chewed to bits by cannonfire.
Quickly polling her own engineers for how best to handle a damaged and malfunctioning ship, the provided solution was simple, easy to apply, and likely to work.
In other words, a "light" slap to the back of her bridge. Alas, she underestimated her own strength, causing her victim to flop forwards with a loud splash.
Her most productive bridge crew member bristled at the feline profanity that was screeched out from the submarine's lips as she shakily recovered.
Slowly, and looking very much the part of a soaked cat, the submarine staggered to her feet once more, glaring at the Re, though with far, far less hate than before. Gone was the glower of "disobey me and die", and in its place was its far, far nicer sister, the glare of "I will make you pay for annoying me". Ah, she kind of missed this look, oddly enough. It was one of her favorites—one she herself sported quite often, too.
"What was that for?!" demanded the submarine, cradling her wounds… and hey! Her tone was back to normal!
Potentially dangerous situation or not, a faint grin found itself upon the Re's face. Seemed that the Hime was back to her usual self. Her usual, freaky, insane self. Still, she had a problem to stop before it could get either of them killed.
As for answering the question, the Re merely pointed at the far shore and at the gathering Kanmusu fleet. The dazed Hime followed her gaze, before turning back to her and blinking.
"... Why are they there?" asked the submarine,voice shaky. "That's a lot of ships…"
"You were about to order us to charge into them," was 074's calm, if flat response.
"I was what?!?" shrieked the submarine, staggering back a few steps, as if that'd be enough to get out of range of the Traitors' heavy weaponry.
074 took another halfhearted swipe at the submarine, this time deftly dodged. Rolling her eyes in annoyance, the Hime took a deep breath, before accidentally shifting in place. Something audibly crunched under her weight.
Her eyes went wide, and she keeled over with another splash, collapsing atop of the water gasping in pain.
Right. Her leader may have been patched up (somehow), but her internals must have been looking worse than swiss cheese at the moment. Cheese that may or may not be on fire, if she was unlucky. Speaking of fires:
"How much damage did you sustain?" she asked her Hime, who was currently seated atop the water's surface, likely dealing with even more internal issues.
The submarine paused, freezing in place—likely doing whatever she did instead of having her crew file damage reports. (The fact she didn't have a crew, apparently, or more importantly why, was still something she didn't quite understand, stupid confusing Hime…)
"Forty percent of my outer hull has been destroyed and replaced with chitin patches," was the reply. "Internal structures appear to have already fully regenerated. They did not hit my systems, so those are intact too."
Forty.
Forty.
"... How are you still functioning!?" sputtered the Re, trying to imagine the state she would be in had she lost forty percent of her external plating—would she even float at that point?
The submarine Hime had the gall to pause, before sheepishly replying, "Barely?"
074 pinched her bridge, then gestured behind herself. "Yeah, you need repairs. We still don't have a repair bath, so it's about damn time we head back before you permanently damage yourself. There's no point in sticking around here—aaand you're staring into space again. Great. Don't think I won't smack you again."
The submarine's mouth opened and closed once more… before she dove, kicking up a massive splash in her wake. The Re could only shake her head in defeat. Seriously? If moving caused her that much pain, diving would be insanity. What the hell was she up to now?
Crossing her arms, and (metaphorically) tapping her foot in impatience, the Re class waited, mentally counting down from twenty. The next time her idiot Hime surfaced, she'd grab her out of the water and drag her busted ass back by force.
Why was she the responsible one?! 074 is a fucking Re, dammit, she was supposed to be the quirky, insane murderboat! It was in her damn job description… if she had one, anyways.
With little else to do, she kept her crew on standby. Between the Kanmusu fleet being so close, and her Hime disappearing to do her own thing again, she found herself alone on open water… She supposed at worst she could pretend to be like the other hulls floating around—her Hime owed her an explanation as to what the hell she had done there, anyway.
When a splash was heard behind her, she spun around slowly, ready to give the submarine Princess a piece of her mind, yet before she could so much as speak, an object was placed in her arms.
A familiar piscine drone, cold and lifeless. She glanced between the drone and the submarine, one eyebrow raised.
"P-please, keep them safe," were the only words she got out of the wounded Hime, before she dove below once more.
Left alone with only a drone in her grip, the Re shook her head slowly. She turned it over: its armor was chipped, its eyes cracked, and one of its fins splintered, and a number on its side, 02… A sinking feeling grew slowly as she began to piece together what exactly had driven her Hime to such lengths.
Placing the damaged drone on her deck, she called a few of her engineers to investigate the damaged vessel—she doubted her Hime would complain about her attempting to do some of the initial repairs on her own.
The reports she had received back were troubling. Heavy damage, caused by a depth charge. Several electrical faults, but the hull itself appeared to be mostly intact.
If this was all the damage this little drone had received… then it had been remarkably lucky. Most small submarines caught by a depth charge tended to be—
074 glanced up to another splash, to reveal her Hime once more, tears plain in her eyes. In her grasp was a pile of garbage.
A pile of garbage with a number painted on its side. 04.
The Re held in a pained hiss as she grabbed the second drone… or what was left of it. She did not need to be her chief of engineering to tell that this one was a write-off. Her engineers had agreed… once they had made it safely back belowdecks, of course. They weren't stupid enough to say that in the vicinity of a Hime who had shown time and time again her lack of respect towards the lives of Impkind.
Her Hime was slower this time to dive, emitting an awful grinding noise as she shivered in place, her wounds continuing to glow. The tears in her eyes… Were they from pain, or from sorrow?
Either way, the stricken submarine disappeared once more.
074 pinched her bridge again (something she seemed to do a lot lately), moving the ruined Minnow beside its far more intact sistership. The differences were stark.
The second wreck was barely recognizable. Its internal components were spilling from its hull, wires and cables and other doodads exposed to the elements. Even worse, the rust had taken a hold of it, already coating the corpse in a thin, coppery layer. She'd seen this before, time and time again. Once an Abyssal had started to rust, there was very little one could do to bring them back. Almost always, they were scrapped, and a replacement was summoned in.
Whether her Hime would accept that fate or not would be a difficult question to answer. Would the same submarine that had taken a barely functional Re as a challenge to repair… be willing to give up on something she had built herself?
074 could only sigh as her engineers continued to tinker with the more-intact Minnow. To very little success.
It was entirely unlike any Abyssal she had ever seen, intact or otherwise. Its structure was different, components were strange… And it appeared to be unmanned, just like the Hime which had built them, considering how there wasn't even enough open space within it to fit a single Imp. Hell, even the materials were "wrong" compared to what was standard… Grumbling in defeat, the Re called off her engineers. She wouldn't be able to fix them. Barring some sort of Installation Hime's intervention, there was probably only one being that could.
Said being rose to the surface once more, gasping in pain and exhaustion, arms empty, eyes wild. The glow of her wounds had only grown brighter—
It was time to end this.
"Stop," stated 074, drawing the submarine's attention. Her gaze was met by teary eyes.
"B-but there's still—" stammered the Hime, but the Re was having none of it.
If she was forced to be the adult here, then she'd damn well be the adult. "You cannot fix anything if you are dead."
The submarine recoiled as if struck, staring at the two broken drones upon the Re's deck in horror… before slumping over in defeat. "B-but…"
"But nothing," demanded the irate aviation battleship, smacking her hands together loudly. "You need repairs. Then you need to fix your drones. Isn't that what you were trying to do?"
The submarine nodded slowly, cowed… And a not-small part of the Re roared in delight upon being the leader for once. Unfortunately, it seemed that her Hime hadn't quite understood the situation just yet, considering her engines began to spin up, despite her condition. With so many holes in her hull, her normally silent systems were plain to hear, a testament to just how bad of a shape she was in.
Sighing, she grabbed the smaller submarine by the midsection, lifting her up.
"W-what are you—" sputtered the submarine, flailing about for a moment, at least before being set gently upon the Re's deck.
"You are in no state to sail." And wasn't that the understatement of the friggin' century. "I guess I'll have you carry you back."
The submarine began to speak, to complain… before sighing, and just slumping over atop of the battleship's (comparatively) larger deck. To an outside observer, it'd appear as if the much larger woman was in a bridal carry of the small, petite, child-like Re… But Shipgirl situations were already bullshit at the best of times. Besides, if this didn't earn her a few favors to cash in later down the line, nothing would.
074 merely shook her head in… not in good humor, no. She had some standards, after all. Adjusting her hold, they began their voyage home.
She'd of course have her Imps seal all entrances first, though. She already could tell that the glow emanating from the sub's wounds would kill them faster than the cooks' pot o' surprise.
Stupid broken aura of death. What was the world coming to, when submarines were acting like Res?
Exhausted and broken, the submarine Princess had stepped off the deck of her assistant… ally? Friend? She still did not know what to call the Re. She still knew too little about her, and just… wasn't reaching out, not stepping outside of her own little bubble.
She had kept the aviation battleship in the dark, taking great care to avoid letting her become aware of her potentially disastrous interaction with the American Shipgirl… yet, only but a moment ago, she had been carried by the same battleship back home, broken and in great pain. She had spared her the pain of swimming back herself.
The submarine sighed, ignoring the agony that continued to surge through her brutalized body. At the very least, it hurt less than when she had directly pushed back against the Abyss's demands for blood. The pain was far more localized, far less spiritual. As long as she moved in predictable and rigid patterns, it wasn't so bad.
She still did not understand how or why the Abyss treated her the way it did—her trip to the surface had not been wracked with pain, even as she had interacted with, or even bartered with the humans. Was it because she had been on a mission specifically to raid them for supplies? Was it really so simple as a stated intent intermingled with her actions, or was it something further? She knew she had committed at least a small amount of sabotage along the way, perhaps that too had factored in?
Had she chosen to extract the information from the "Traitor" Shipgirl through interrogation, or threatening via weaponry… would she have been spared the pain? Or was it her non-violent motives beneath it all that had betrayed her?
So many things she didn't know, and couldn't know… all banging around in her head. For all she knew that very well might be literal… her insides were an utter mess.
All coming to light, now that she was unable to act upon them. Her body was broken… She needed time to fix herself. For better or for worse, she had time to think, time to recover. Too bad that she had a one track mind, meaning that her own doubts were drowning everything else out.
Sighing in defeat, she cradled the two forms of her recovered Minnows to her chest, even as she dove deeper and deeper, towards her base, deep below the surface. One final, painful swim before she could fix herself…
She had recovered two out of the four potentially there… but a part of her, a part she wished was wrong… knew that there would be no more to find. They were gone. She might have only even recovered one—she hadn't missed the looks of pity and sorrow towards her once she had handed her Re the ruined form of 04. The same unnatural rust that quickly ruined the materials of the fallen had already sunk its claws into her daughter's body.
Stepping out of the moon pool and into the Foundry, the submarine shivered, placing the two drones near their siblings. She would repair 02 as soon as possible, when she had time, but the Re was right. She'd do them no good, if she herself were to break. As is, the room was nearly fully illuminated by the green light spilling from her wounds: Had she taken any more damage, would she have simply popped like a balloon?
Staring at the four drones side by side, each in various states of damage, she couldn't help but bend down to examine them all. So cruelly attacked—and if the scum which had done so had thought to simply leave the scene of the crime, would she have ever found them? Or would she have raged on, charging along to her own death?
One by one, she rested her hand upon the hulls of the drones, trying so desperately to accept that, while two were gone… She'd fix the rest. No matter how impossible the odds, she would do her damned hardest to ensure that her daughters swam again.
She'd never replace those which had fallen… and she would never forget. And until she was certain that nothing more could be done, she would not surrender.
Her hand came to rest upon the mostly intact hull of Minnow 01. The most intact of the bunch, having received repairs before she had gone on her warpath. Before she had let her rage and disgust drive her to the point of a suicidal charge.
Said Minnow squirmed as it reactivated, its crimson eyes blinking back at the submarine in confusion and worry. Minnow 01 stared back at her, before looking around to its kin. It chirped once, twice… and then began flopping towards her, sliding against the steel below.
Halting in confusion, the Princess lowered herself to a seat, curious at the reaction. 01 had shown herself to be intelligent, sure… but she had never reacted in a way such as this.
Flop after flop, the piscine drone approached her, before coming to a stop mere centimeters away, and emitting a cheerful chirp.
Wearing a somber smile, the submarine lifted the needy drone up and held her close.
The room around them blurred, as tears began to form in the larger ship's eyes.
Rebuilding would come later.
Clutching Minnow 01 against her chest tightly, the submarine wept, mourning her lost daughters. Mourning what they could have been, and even more, what they could have further become.
They had all suffered, and potentially they'd suffer again in the future. The aggressors had paid for their crimes, but it did not right their wrongs. The massacre she had committed in retaliation had done little but make her feel better… for what little that truly mattered.
But… for now, at the the very least—
She balled a fist, shaking her head. Damn a maybe, she would make herself a vow.
But for now and forever… she would never let her creations be unappreciated, unloved… ever again.
The battle had ended, it seemed. Considering how nothing else had decided to charge out of the fog at her, it had ended in their victory. She'd not even had to do much besides fire at coordinates she had received through her radio.
It was an interesting experience, having targets be marked and identified for her—though in her state, her Hime had done little in the way of explaining what exactly she was shooting at. Coordinates were great and all, but without knowing the exact size and shape of her targets, it had been all up to her own gun crews to improvise. Still, it was more effective than she had expected. Apparently, she had sunk no less than two "large ships" while essentially blind, not even counting the swarm of poorly-coordinated destroyers that had wandered into her killbox.
The poor, stupid destroyers. She'd been in their place far too many times for her liking, thrown as fodder against an enemy just to buy time for her first Princess… She shivered, remembering the unpleasant time she had spent as little more than a bullet sponge just off of the west coast of Europe.
She'd made their deaths mercifully quick, at the very least. Though her Hime had "ordered" her (more like implied), to fire from maximum range, she was a Re. Playing artillery boat was already stretching it in her eyes—there was no way she would degrade herself to playing that safely. She had closed to a new position, little more than a few hundred meters from the fog's edge.
Either way, the unfortunate destroyers had broken out of the solid fog immediately into ideal main gun range.
Their fates were pretty obvious. Four shots to center mass and they were on the seafloor.
It was time to see just what sort of mess her new Hime had left for her to clean up.
Keeping her guns trained on the last known position of the hostile fleet's core, 074 narrowed her eyes and primed her radar, waiting for vision to improve—
There! An enemy contact, Fifty four degrees starboard!
Pointing her main cannons at a barely-revealed frigate, she fired two shots, one missing, one sinking it immediately.
It didn't even attempt to dodge, to react, or even turn towards her. It just took the shot and sank.
She'd commend it's bravery at any other time, but right now? It was rather freaky.
The fog continued to clear, revealing yet more frigates… and the occasional destroyer scattered about, as well.
Most facing away. A few were facing towards her. None had even begun to turn. All were silent as a grave, without even the faintest sound of a boiler firing. A few were tossed around by the waves, bobbing up and down in the tides like forgotten toys.
Allowing herself to gulp once, 074 composed herself and carefully plotted a course towards her Hime's last known location. Surely, the insane bitch had survived, right? There'd be no way this absolute nightmare hellscape of hollow ships would be the result of anyone else.
Then again, she was a complete maniac who had closed to melee range against a victim that outweighed her—
Despite herself, 074 found herself grumbling. Being shown up by a submarine, let alone an underweight one in a duty that the Re-class was known for, excelled at even… It was something she could respect—b-but she'd still have to one-up the insane Hime in melee combat at some point! Her pride wouldn't have it any other way.
Speaking of her Hime, the submarine Princess was nowhere to be seen. Not like her being able to detect her mattered much, because of course—submarine—but still…
Clearing her throat, she fired a quick ping through the radio channels, and metaphorically weighed anchor to await a response.
She didn't need to wait long.
Rising from the depths like the unholy ghost-demon-woman-boat she was, her Hime made her appearance, still shaking and quivering in rage. The mad Hime glanced about, eyes unseeing, before she slowly turned to face her, staring straight into her soul.
The submarine's voice was weak and shaky, as she coughed out, "... G-good… We..."
The faintest echoes of the all-consuming hate that had once suffused the Hime's voice still remained, but even that was sputtering out. She had been reduced to running on metaphorical (and quite possibly literal) fumes.
It was then that 074 got a good look at the absolute state of her Hime—and immediately wished that she did not.
The submarine was a wreck, plain and simple. Her body was cratered and scabbed over, like some sort of metallic alien infection. The most horrifying part was that several of her poorly-healed wounds were glowing, emitting a pale green light not properly filtered out by the strange substance she relied upon for damage control.
"W-we…" continued the Hime, still struggling to speak, "N-not done… Can hear them gathering… Should strike now!"
The submarine wasn't serious, was she?
Painfully slowly, the Hime began to turn in place, coming to a stop facing the shore. One of 074's crew quickly climbed on top of her bridge with a pair of binoculars, then squinted into the distance—
A loud bark of alarm confirmed her own concerns.
Her leader was staring at a fleet of Kanmusu gathering there. Including a friggin' battleship. Their forms weren't distinct at this distance, and her intrepid crewmate couldn't accurately count how many ships smaller than cruiser weight were present, but still, a hard target if she ever saw one. It was a miracle that they weren't already opening fire upon them—they were probably still within artillery range, albeit at the very edge.
And her bird-brained, totalled Hime appeared to be raring up to go charging in for yet another round of glorious melee combat.
… Yeah, screw that. She knew a suicidal mission when she saw one. The moment they started approaching the Traitor fleet, they'd be chewed to bits by cannonfire.
Quickly polling her own engineers for how best to handle a damaged and malfunctioning ship, the provided solution was simple, easy to apply, and likely to work.
In other words, a "light" slap to the back of her bridge. Alas, she underestimated her own strength, causing her victim to flop forwards with a loud splash.
Her most productive bridge crew member bristled at the feline profanity that was screeched out from the submarine's lips as she shakily recovered.
Slowly, and looking very much the part of a soaked cat, the submarine staggered to her feet once more, glaring at the Re, though with far, far less hate than before. Gone was the glower of "disobey me and die", and in its place was its far, far nicer sister, the glare of "I will make you pay for annoying me". Ah, she kind of missed this look, oddly enough. It was one of her favorites—one she herself sported quite often, too.
"What was that for?!" demanded the submarine, cradling her wounds… and hey! Her tone was back to normal!
Potentially dangerous situation or not, a faint grin found itself upon the Re's face. Seemed that the Hime was back to her usual self. Her usual, freaky, insane self. Still, she had a problem to stop before it could get either of them killed.
As for answering the question, the Re merely pointed at the far shore and at the gathering Kanmusu fleet. The dazed Hime followed her gaze, before turning back to her and blinking.
"... Why are they there?" asked the submarine,voice shaky. "That's a lot of ships…"
"You were about to order us to charge into them," was 074's calm, if flat response.
"I was what?!?" shrieked the submarine, staggering back a few steps, as if that'd be enough to get out of range of the Traitors' heavy weaponry.
074 took another halfhearted swipe at the submarine, this time deftly dodged. Rolling her eyes in annoyance, the Hime took a deep breath, before accidentally shifting in place. Something audibly crunched under her weight.
Her eyes went wide, and she keeled over with another splash, collapsing atop of the water gasping in pain.
Right. Her leader may have been patched up (somehow), but her internals must have been looking worse than swiss cheese at the moment. Cheese that may or may not be on fire, if she was unlucky. Speaking of fires:
"How much damage did you sustain?" she asked her Hime, who was currently seated atop the water's surface, likely dealing with even more internal issues.
The submarine paused, freezing in place—likely doing whatever she did instead of having her crew file damage reports. (The fact she didn't have a crew, apparently, or more importantly why, was still something she didn't quite understand, stupid confusing Hime…)
"Forty percent of my outer hull has been destroyed and replaced with chitin patches," was the reply. "Internal structures appear to have already fully regenerated. They did not hit my systems, so those are intact too."
Forty.
Forty.
"... How are you still functioning!?" sputtered the Re, trying to imagine the state she would be in had she lost forty percent of her external plating—would she even float at that point?
The submarine Hime had the gall to pause, before sheepishly replying, "Barely?"
074 pinched her bridge, then gestured behind herself. "Yeah, you need repairs. We still don't have a repair bath, so it's about damn time we head back before you permanently damage yourself. There's no point in sticking around here—aaand you're staring into space again. Great. Don't think I won't smack you again."
The submarine's mouth opened and closed once more… before she dove, kicking up a massive splash in her wake. The Re could only shake her head in defeat. Seriously? If moving caused her that much pain, diving would be insanity. What the hell was she up to now?
Crossing her arms, and (metaphorically) tapping her foot in impatience, the Re class waited, mentally counting down from twenty. The next time her idiot Hime surfaced, she'd grab her out of the water and drag her busted ass back by force.
Why was she the responsible one?! 074 is a fucking Re, dammit, she was supposed to be the quirky, insane murderboat! It was in her damn job description… if she had one, anyways.
With little else to do, she kept her crew on standby. Between the Kanmusu fleet being so close, and her Hime disappearing to do her own thing again, she found herself alone on open water… She supposed at worst she could pretend to be like the other hulls floating around—her Hime owed her an explanation as to what the hell she had done there, anyway.
When a splash was heard behind her, she spun around slowly, ready to give the submarine Princess a piece of her mind, yet before she could so much as speak, an object was placed in her arms.
A familiar piscine drone, cold and lifeless. She glanced between the drone and the submarine, one eyebrow raised.
"P-please, keep them safe," were the only words she got out of the wounded Hime, before she dove below once more.
Left alone with only a drone in her grip, the Re shook her head slowly. She turned it over: its armor was chipped, its eyes cracked, and one of its fins splintered, and a number on its side, 02… A sinking feeling grew slowly as she began to piece together what exactly had driven her Hime to such lengths.
Placing the damaged drone on her deck, she called a few of her engineers to investigate the damaged vessel—she doubted her Hime would complain about her attempting to do some of the initial repairs on her own.
The reports she had received back were troubling. Heavy damage, caused by a depth charge. Several electrical faults, but the hull itself appeared to be mostly intact.
If this was all the damage this little drone had received… then it had been remarkably lucky. Most small submarines caught by a depth charge tended to be—
074 glanced up to another splash, to reveal her Hime once more, tears plain in her eyes. In her grasp was a pile of garbage.
A pile of garbage with a number painted on its side. 04.
The Re held in a pained hiss as she grabbed the second drone… or what was left of it. She did not need to be her chief of engineering to tell that this one was a write-off. Her engineers had agreed… once they had made it safely back belowdecks, of course. They weren't stupid enough to say that in the vicinity of a Hime who had shown time and time again her lack of respect towards the lives of Impkind.
Her Hime was slower this time to dive, emitting an awful grinding noise as she shivered in place, her wounds continuing to glow. The tears in her eyes… Were they from pain, or from sorrow?
Either way, the stricken submarine disappeared once more.
074 pinched her bridge again (something she seemed to do a lot lately), moving the ruined Minnow beside its far more intact sistership. The differences were stark.
The second wreck was barely recognizable. Its internal components were spilling from its hull, wires and cables and other doodads exposed to the elements. Even worse, the rust had taken a hold of it, already coating the corpse in a thin, coppery layer. She'd seen this before, time and time again. Once an Abyssal had started to rust, there was very little one could do to bring them back. Almost always, they were scrapped, and a replacement was summoned in.
Whether her Hime would accept that fate or not would be a difficult question to answer. Would the same submarine that had taken a barely functional Re as a challenge to repair… be willing to give up on something she had built herself?
074 could only sigh as her engineers continued to tinker with the more-intact Minnow. To very little success.
It was entirely unlike any Abyssal she had ever seen, intact or otherwise. Its structure was different, components were strange… And it appeared to be unmanned, just like the Hime which had built them, considering how there wasn't even enough open space within it to fit a single Imp. Hell, even the materials were "wrong" compared to what was standard… Grumbling in defeat, the Re called off her engineers. She wouldn't be able to fix them. Barring some sort of Installation Hime's intervention, there was probably only one being that could.
Said being rose to the surface once more, gasping in pain and exhaustion, arms empty, eyes wild. The glow of her wounds had only grown brighter—
It was time to end this.
"Stop," stated 074, drawing the submarine's attention. Her gaze was met by teary eyes.
"B-but there's still—" stammered the Hime, but the Re was having none of it.
If she was forced to be the adult here, then she'd damn well be the adult. "You cannot fix anything if you are dead."
The submarine recoiled as if struck, staring at the two broken drones upon the Re's deck in horror… before slumping over in defeat. "B-but…"
"But nothing," demanded the irate aviation battleship, smacking her hands together loudly. "You need repairs. Then you need to fix your drones. Isn't that what you were trying to do?"
The submarine nodded slowly, cowed… And a not-small part of the Re roared in delight upon being the leader for once. Unfortunately, it seemed that her Hime hadn't quite understood the situation just yet, considering her engines began to spin up, despite her condition. With so many holes in her hull, her normally silent systems were plain to hear, a testament to just how bad of a shape she was in.
Sighing, she grabbed the smaller submarine by the midsection, lifting her up.
"W-what are you—" sputtered the submarine, flailing about for a moment, at least before being set gently upon the Re's deck.
"You are in no state to sail." And wasn't that the understatement of the friggin' century. "I guess I'll have you carry you back."
The submarine began to speak, to complain… before sighing, and just slumping over atop of the battleship's (comparatively) larger deck. To an outside observer, it'd appear as if the much larger woman was in a bridal carry of the small, petite, child-like Re… But Shipgirl situations were already bullshit at the best of times. Besides, if this didn't earn her a few favors to cash in later down the line, nothing would.
074 merely shook her head in… not in good humor, no. She had some standards, after all. Adjusting her hold, they began their voyage home.
She'd of course have her Imps seal all entrances first, though. She already could tell that the glow emanating from the sub's wounds would kill them faster than the cooks' pot o' surprise.
Stupid broken aura of death. What was the world coming to, when submarines were acting like Res?
Exhausted and broken, the submarine Princess had stepped off the deck of her assistant… ally? Friend? She still did not know what to call the Re. She still knew too little about her, and just… wasn't reaching out, not stepping outside of her own little bubble.
She had kept the aviation battleship in the dark, taking great care to avoid letting her become aware of her potentially disastrous interaction with the American Shipgirl… yet, only but a moment ago, she had been carried by the same battleship back home, broken and in great pain. She had spared her the pain of swimming back herself.
The submarine sighed, ignoring the agony that continued to surge through her brutalized body. At the very least, it hurt less than when she had directly pushed back against the Abyss's demands for blood. The pain was far more localized, far less spiritual. As long as she moved in predictable and rigid patterns, it wasn't so bad.
She still did not understand how or why the Abyss treated her the way it did—her trip to the surface had not been wracked with pain, even as she had interacted with, or even bartered with the humans. Was it because she had been on a mission specifically to raid them for supplies? Was it really so simple as a stated intent intermingled with her actions, or was it something further? She knew she had committed at least a small amount of sabotage along the way, perhaps that too had factored in?
Had she chosen to extract the information from the "Traitor" Shipgirl through interrogation, or threatening via weaponry… would she have been spared the pain? Or was it her non-violent motives beneath it all that had betrayed her?
So many things she didn't know, and couldn't know… all banging around in her head. For all she knew that very well might be literal… her insides were an utter mess.
All coming to light, now that she was unable to act upon them. Her body was broken… She needed time to fix herself. For better or for worse, she had time to think, time to recover. Too bad that she had a one track mind, meaning that her own doubts were drowning everything else out.
Sighing in defeat, she cradled the two forms of her recovered Minnows to her chest, even as she dove deeper and deeper, towards her base, deep below the surface. One final, painful swim before she could fix herself…
She had recovered two out of the four potentially there… but a part of her, a part she wished was wrong… knew that there would be no more to find. They were gone. She might have only even recovered one—she hadn't missed the looks of pity and sorrow towards her once she had handed her Re the ruined form of 04. The same unnatural rust that quickly ruined the materials of the fallen had already sunk its claws into her daughter's body.
Stepping out of the moon pool and into the Foundry, the submarine shivered, placing the two drones near their siblings. She would repair 02 as soon as possible, when she had time, but the Re was right. She'd do them no good, if she herself were to break. As is, the room was nearly fully illuminated by the green light spilling from her wounds: Had she taken any more damage, would she have simply popped like a balloon?
Staring at the four drones side by side, each in various states of damage, she couldn't help but bend down to examine them all. So cruelly attacked—and if the scum which had done so had thought to simply leave the scene of the crime, would she have ever found them? Or would she have raged on, charging along to her own death?
One by one, she rested her hand upon the hulls of the drones, trying so desperately to accept that, while two were gone… She'd fix the rest. No matter how impossible the odds, she would do her damned hardest to ensure that her daughters swam again.
She'd never replace those which had fallen… and she would never forget. And until she was certain that nothing more could be done, she would not surrender.
Her hand came to rest upon the mostly intact hull of Minnow 01. The most intact of the bunch, having received repairs before she had gone on her warpath. Before she had let her rage and disgust drive her to the point of a suicidal charge.
Said Minnow squirmed as it reactivated, its crimson eyes blinking back at the submarine in confusion and worry. Minnow 01 stared back at her, before looking around to its kin. It chirped once, twice… and then began flopping towards her, sliding against the steel below.
Halting in confusion, the Princess lowered herself to a seat, curious at the reaction. 01 had shown herself to be intelligent, sure… but she had never reacted in a way such as this.
Flop after flop, the piscine drone approached her, before coming to a stop mere centimeters away, and emitting a cheerful chirp.
Wearing a somber smile, the submarine lifted the needy drone up and held her close.
The room around them blurred, as tears began to form in the larger ship's eyes.
Rebuilding would come later.
Clutching Minnow 01 against her chest tightly, the submarine wept, mourning her lost daughters. Mourning what they could have been, and even more, what they could have further become.
They had all suffered, and potentially they'd suffer again in the future. The aggressors had paid for their crimes, but it did not right their wrongs. The massacre she had committed in retaliation had done little but make her feel better… for what little that truly mattered.
But… for now, at the the very least—
She balled a fist, shaking her head. Damn a maybe, she would make herself a vow.
But for now and forever… she would never let her creations be unappreciated, unloved… ever again.