Which to be honest, is what Isabella would be considered a victory in and of itself.
Ocean Plains (Kantai Collection)
- Thread starter Drakefire
- Start date
- Location
- Home
jeebus, fuck around and find out.
hopefully the rescue fleet arrives soon. surest thing to send seattle into a blood rage would be to find her new sister missing all her limbs and halfway to becoming an abyssal.
...crap, I just jinxed it didn't I
hopefully the rescue fleet arrives soon. surest thing to send seattle into a blood rage would be to find her new sister missing all her limbs and halfway to becoming an abyssal.
...crap, I just jinxed it didn't I
Chapter 12
"Status report!"
"Sir, we received an SOS signal identical to USS Isabella's first at 10:30, running up until 11:11, slowly moving eastward back towards the Philippines. We tried repeatedly to establish radio contact, but the presence of Abyssal's is jamming our signal."
That was ill news. Under normal circumstances, Johnson would have written the light cruiser off as sunk already.
However, he was under strict orders to not treat this as a standard operation. Though even without those orders he would have been suspicious about the situation. USS Isabella had been allowed to make landfall once before, so her being sunk was unlikely.
Which meant capture was on the table. And that was arguably worse. Abyssal's did not tend to take prisoners. Let alone shipgirl ones.
"Furthermore, we've been receiving another radio signal of unknown origins. Unencrypted. But it's not in English or Japanese, sir."
"Can you track the signal? It may be our mystery Luzon."
If it was Luzon, that merely raised more questions. However, she might be able to provide several answers. Provided they could find her.
"Yes sir. It's faint but trackable. Should I send a request for one of the carriers to deploy one of her scouts to check out the area?"
Johnson paused. They would likely need all the air cover they could get once the Abyssal forces became aware of their presence. However, having eyes in the sky would prove useful before they sent out the scout group to pick her up.
"Very well. How much longer until Mackerel and I-402 arrive at the rendezvous point?"
"A half-hour, sir. I-402 made it sound like she had important information for you."
Johnson raised his eyebrow. That was peculiar if nothing else.
"And she didn't transmit it?"
"No sir. All she said is that she felt the information was too important to let be released over radio transmission, so she wished to deliver it personally."
Odd. Considerably odd. Whatever it was, he certainly hoped the information was as certain as I-402 was implying it was.
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Pain was the first thing I felt. Wracking pain, across every inch of my body. My eyes opened slowly, groggily, like keeping them closed would keep away the spasms making their way through me.
I tried to raise my hand to cover my eyes from the bright, burning light that hung above my face. I tried again. And again. And again.
Why wasn't my arm moving?
Slowly, my head turned, tilting over to look at my arm. My eye's widened, as I tried to raise my other.
I whipped my head around, only to find it was in the same state. I panicked, struggling with as much strength as I could muster, fighting against the chains that bound my remaining limbs. But my response was weak, hardly enough to rattle the chains in the first place. Tears were already beginning to well up in my eyes as I fought.
I needed to get free! I needed to get out! I needed to escape!
"I'm surprised. I expected it to take longer for you to wake up."
My blood turned to ice. No, it was here. Slowly, my head turned towards the glowing blue pits staring at my face, its mouth cruel grin.
"Of course, I didn't expect you to be such a nuisance, either," it hummed, something dark twisting in its hand before it fell from my line of sight.
Slowly, it stood, tail swishing behind it like a cobra, bobbing back and forth. Each step it took was like a glacier to me. Advancing, but agonizingly oppressive, a mighty, unstoppable wall that one could only flee from.
But I couldn't run. Couldn't flee. I was chained in place. With nothing but my fear.
"So. If you don't want this to hurt," it slammed down a blade right next to my skull. It was probably meant to be some type of knife. But to me, it was too jagged, a hunk of black Abyssal steel. "You will tell me everything you know."
That was incredibly generic. Not that I'd tell it that, but still. Tell me everything you know? That's not partially useful or specific.
"Such as?" I bit down on my urge to be a smartass. As cathartic as it would be, I'm still being interrogated by the eldritch abomination with a knife. Me doing that would shave a few years off my life. At best.
It chuckled, running the flat of the cold blade against my cheek.
"You aren't exactly in a position to be playing dumb. The reinforcements. How many are coming? What is their formation? When will they arrive?" its eyes bored into my skull like drills.
"It's coming," I paused. Well, yeah, that's about the extent of my knowledge of what's happening.
"From?" the knife ground against the table, a grating sound that made my ears want to die.
"That's it. That's all I know," I blinked. "Wait, you expected them to tell me anything more? The person trapped behind enemy lines and could become compromised at any moment? That's"
I screamed as a knife buried its way into my still good leg, twisting as it went. Right, Eldritch Abomination with a knife.
"You expect me to believe that? With your crew burning how many documents during the boarding? What do you know?" it ground out, as my teeth bit into my lip to keep myself from screaming as it twisted the knife again.
Tears were already welling up in my eyes, both from the physical pain and from the fact I realized why I was so sluggish. The familiar feeling of my crew was gone. They'd been with me since I woke up, and yet now?
Still. They went down fighting. I couldn't ask for more than that. I wasn't going to let their sacrifice go to waste, either.
"I know nothing. I just know that they're coming," I grimaced, the knife being buried deeper into my flesh, scraping against the bone.
"You expect me to believe that?" it growled, barring down on me.
"Whether or not you believe it is irrelevant. It's the simple fact of the matter," I had to resist adding a 'whether you like it or not', at the end. Blood was already oozing its way out of my leg, some twisted combination of red and black.
It stared down at me for a moment, before slowly extracting the knife from my leg. I stifled a hiss of pain as the blade finally came free, covered in red and black sludge. I think it was oil? It better be oil.
"Is that so?" It rubbed a cloth over the implement, not that I'd honestly notice the difference. "Then bring in the girl."
Wait? What? No. NONONONONONONO! How! Luzon is faster than any of them! How did she, no. Unless they had a late war destroyer, there was no way!
There was no way. It was bluffing. It had to be. Continuing pursuit in its state?
"You would have led with that from the start," its eyebrow rose, turning slightly towards me.
"Oh? And what makes you think that?"
"You were by yourself. You are slower than she is. Unless you somehow chased her down with me on your back like a sack of potatoes, she's not here."
It paused for a moment before its mouth began to twist into a grin.
"You should have fallen for the bluff."
Well. Shit.
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"Sir, I think my scout plane has found our missing ship," Kaga's lips twitched into a slight frown as she read through the contact report. The Admiral in charge of this mission nodded, signaling her to continue.
"She's around 124 degrees east, and 16 degrees north, currently turning towards the Southwest," she watched as an officer placed a thumbtack on the map at her reported position.
"She's heading south-west?"
"I believe she spotted my plane first, sir, and changed course. I don't know if she realizes if we're here to help her," she paused for a moment, mulling over part of the report. "She's also very small, sir. Smaller than a destroyer, I think."
That caused a few eyebrows to rise.
"Interesting. Do you think you can use your aircraft to guide her towards us?"
"Yes sir. Though I cannot make promises as to the result," she nodded, looking at her watch. Mackerel and I-402 should have arrived by this point.
"If it keeps her from going further out into the open ocean, I'll take it. A destroyer squadron will be sent to pick her up."
He paused for a moment, likely lost in thought. Likely American, though that didn't need to be said. Shimikaze wasn't here, and even if she was, the small ship was keeping remarkable speed. Even the blistering swift destroyer would be hard-pressed to keep up.
The door opened to the sound of wet feet against metal, signaling the submarines had arrived. I-402 was strangely shifty, nervous, even. Whatever information she had, she felt it important enough to not dry off first. Kaga hadn't met the aviation submarine before, but she could see the resemblance in appearance between her and her sisters.
A shame she lacked the personality of I-400 and I-401, but alas, it wasn't meant to be. Kaga watched as the submarine's eye's flickered across the numerous ships and human personal present. Which was quite an impressive force.
Kaga, herself, of course, alongside Akagi. Ryuuhou had joined them as well, due to the other fleet carriers needing to remain on home defense, or simply on other missions. Kongo and Hiei rounded out their pure battleship component, alongside numerous other cruisers and destroyers from both Yokosuka and Sasebo.
The US contingent was more impressive. Bunker Hill leaned in one of the corners, the lower half of her face covered by her turtleneck. Shangri-La stood near her moody older sister, alongside the Essex version of Lexington. Further reinforcing the three late war carriers were Gambier Bay and White Plains. Three US battleships were also present. Sasebo's equivalent to Nagato, South Dakota, followed by Iowa, and her strange, newly summoned half-sister, Georgia. Georgia was, as she understood it, on loan from the continental United States, as were some of the other unfamiliar faces.
However, such as with Iowa, she recognized enough faces through joint combat operations, so there was unlikely to be any issues.
"I-402, I heard you have something to report?" Admiral Johnson spoke, nodding towards the aviation submarine.
"Ah, yes," I-402 stammered, "At around 12:30, my pilot that had been picked up by the US cruiser reappeared amongst my crew."
Kaga noticed confusion among a few of the humans, though most of the shipgirls and Johnson showed a dour expression.
"He said she had been captured during a holding action against the Re aviation battleship from 10:25 to 10:29," more frowns and dour looks rippled their way through the crowd. Not that Kaga blamed them. "She subsequently suffered a boarding action."
Kaga visibly winced, while her partner went as pale as a sheet. A reaction shared by many shipgirl's present. Having another ship's fairies come aboard wasn't an uncommon thing, but unwanted, no, hostile ones? It left a very deep pit in her stomach. To be taken and seized like that?
It was best not to dwell on it.
"And that was the bad news," Mackerel spoke up over the din of confused voices and mumbling that had taken hold. South Dakota sent the submarine a harsh glare, but her interruption had served its purpose, quieting things down.
"Yes," I-402 looked down at her feet. "My pilot managed to survive long enough to give me an approximate location to where the cruiser is being held." I-402 advanced slowly, picking up a thumbtack, before placing it on a map.
Kaga didn't fail to notice a soldier's eyes begin to widen in the back before he began to type furiously at his station. Still, that didn't look too far. Easily within range of strike craft.
"Sir! Those coordinates are within strike range!"
"Of carrier aircraft or of our main guns?"
"Both, sir!"
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"Is she close yet?" Sims frowned at her sister, Mustin, as she shouted at her.
"Kaga says she's still a little way out, be patient," Sims almost mimicked Omaha's words. They'd been engaging in this back and forth for the better part of an hour. The worst part was, they had to be guided by a Japanese carrier. If being stuck out here wasn't bad enough.
At least they were escorting the fastest cruiser. That way she could at the very least get some action in the main fight. Provided they arrived for that.
She hoped they arrived for that.
"You've said that a dozen times by now! What makes you so sure?" Mustin glared at the cruiser, likely just as annoyed as Sims was about missing the fight. But at least she knew how to keep her mouth shut about it and focus on the task at hand.
"Firstly, you've asked me about a half dozen times. Secondly, because that's Kaga's aircraft in the distance, meaning Luzon is close. On that note, we should probably slow down," Sims could tell by the tone of the light cruiser's voice that she was giving an order, not making a suggestion, as she began to decrease in speed.
"But why! If we're so close, shouldn't we rush in and pick her up," Mustin whined, but like her sister, was beginning to slow.
"Think about it like this. You're a small vessel, possibly a torpedo or patrol boat, running away from what you think is an enemy aircraft, when suddenly, three destroyers and a cruiser jump out at you," Omaha paused for effect. "What do you think would be their response?"
Mustin, for once, kept quiet, accepting the wisdom of the older cruiser. Sims could see why. Running the other direction in a panic would probably be the first reaction, and if what Kaga said was right, then even if they ditched Ohama, they wouldn't be able to keep up.
Which was always in the cards that Kaga could very much be wrong. But as much as she didn't like Japanese carriers, that was still a bet that was too risky to make.
"She's here," Buck spoke up for the first time since their deployment, pointing out over the water. Sims squinted, barely making up a faint outline of a figure. Despite all her sensors saying she was close, Luzon appeared minuscule. Her height put her at an even younger age than Sim and her sisters.
Strangely, she hadn't seemed to notice them yet. Either she was busy looking at Kaga's single plane, which remained at a distance, or her hair was matted entirely to her face, obscuring her vision.
Sims could believe both of those. Slowly, but surely, as Kaga's fighter broke off, Luzon became aware of their presence.
Sims had to stop herself from wincing. Luzon, for lack of better terms, looked terrible. Awful, even. Her eyes were inflamed almost bright red. Tears were still fresh under them, running down her face in messy wet splotches. Her hair was a tangled mess of knots, Sims unable to tell where one part began and ended.
She was aware the boss wanted a proper rundown of events, as any information would be useful. Especially as Luzon would have witnessed everything.
But now Sims had doubts. Would they be able to even get through to her? Luzon's eyes flitted between them, almost like an animal that had been backed into a corner.
"Luzon? I'm the USS Omaha. We're here to help you."
And that's when the shooting started.
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"Yes sir. No sir. She's calmed down now. I don't think you'll be able to question her though," Omaha shook her head. This was an absolute mess. Mercifully, none of them were really hurt. Luzon didn't get the chance to launch her torpedoes, and her armaments weren't exactly the most dangerous ship-bound weapons, even against destroyer armor.
However, what it did do was give disturbing messages about Luzon's mental state. Omaha was about as far from a psychologist as one could get, but the picture already wasn't pretty.
Right now, the smaller boat sat in the center of their formation, silent, not even moving to speak. Looking down at the waves lapping gently at their feet. Ohama wasn't sure how to even talk to her.
The cruiser called Isabell probably would, but until they got her back, that wasn't an option they had.
Provided they could get her back at all. Provided Isabell wasn't in worse shape than Luzon was.
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"They shall be my finest warriors, these men who,"
"Shut up!" there was a sickening crack, as my jaw went limp. Compared to everything else, it was merely a dull ache, compared to the agony every other inch of my body was screaming in. Blood and oil oozed from hundreds of cuts, lacerations, and even rips.
"You! Get one of the repair ships. Tell her to fix all the damage I've done, besides the leg," I could make out the faint tapping of feet as they ran down the hall.
"You do realize what comes next, right?" Its voice taunted, looming over me. I just stared blankly ahead, eyes locked on the ceiling, as they had been forever how long it had been since I started doing so. "Once you are patched up, I'll do this again, and again, and again. Until you break. And make no mistake, you will break."
"Once you tell me what I want to know, I'll bring you to the Abyss as gently as possible. But until you do, I'll make this as painful as possible. Think of it as payback for all the trouble you caused me."
I continued to stare at the ceiling. How long had it been since I lost the strength to cry? Maybe I still was. I can't recall. I didn't want to give it the satisfaction of seeing my fear.
But she probably could anyway.
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The fact she wouldn't talk was frustrating. Either she honestly didn't know, which had certainly slipped its way through her mind, or the shipgirl was lying.
Either way, it wouldn't matter. Time may be in short supply, but it was something she still had. Her forces would be armed and prepared for a strike at the first sign of any shipgirl activity, with both the carriers and air bases being able to land a devastating first strike. Given the distance, it would likely take a day or two for them to arrive, even at top speed.
More than enough time to finish up with the cruiser, no matter how stubborn she was about it. Who knows, maybe breaking her rescuers would prove enough to break her resolve. What little might be left.
That's what she would herself as an explosion rocked the area. Followed by another. And another. And another.
A stone found itself pulverized under her foot. Will the problems never cease! The nuisance of a cruiser was in chains! The tiny torpedo boat scared off, likely to sink the ocean! What could go wrong now!
It couldn't be an attack. Most certainly not. It was unlikely that they would assault her position without heavy elements, regardless of what information they had on her. That would slow them down, even if they rushed across the ocean to the Philippines. To her domain!
She opened her frequencies, only for panic and confusion to come through. Explosions rang in the background, as madness reined.
She snarled, barking at a nearby destroyer to stand guard.
Fine. If she didn't have time, then she'd break the attackers herself!
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The plan had been as simple as it was brutal. All five fleet carriers would send out a strike, taking out any Abyssal's stationed between them, and USS Isabella's suspected location, with the surface fleet, built around the five battleships, finishing off any survivors that remained. Ryuuhou, White Plains, and Gamba Bay were meant as a backup but were tasked with knocking out any airfields that were in the area. The rest of the fleet would be back with the carriers, and by extension, further covered by a fighter screen and the Vestal itself.
Once the first attack wave had been completed, they were to signal back to the Vestal to commence bombardment.
And so far, the plan has worked. South Dakota saw the burning wrecks of numerous Abyssals, what few surviving were easily finished off by gunfire or torpedoes. Of course, the more bombs and torpedoes spent before they reach their main target, the less devastation there would be.
Even with Vestal's guns, they were more to bombard shore defenses, rather than sink any Abyssals. Sure, a lucky hit would do the trick, but they were at maximum range. Such would be too much to ask. And once they got close, Vestal would have to cease fire support anyway, out of fear of hitting their own forces.
And the less remained, the easier it was going to be. Not only breaking in but also getting out. They were retrieving a cruiser of unknown condition. The less fighting they had to do on the return journey, the better.
All South Dakota could hope for is that this didn't turn into more of a disaster than it already was.
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There was, shaking? Dust sprinkled down along my face.
Had, had I blacked out again? I couldn't remember. But I think the dust was new. Maybe. I couldn't tell about that, either.
But the shaking was. Earthquake? Maybe. They were part of the ring of fire, right?
The burning sensation was new too. Why hadn't I noticed it earlier? Slowly, my head turned, eyes landing on a hunched creature, a blowtorch in hand, attaching grafts to my skin. Oh, I was being forgetful again.
It hurt to think.
There was another quake, followed by a loud crack. My head turned. My captor's, I think it was my captor, head turned.
That was neat. The chain was no longer attached to the wall.
I didn't want to be here anymore. Its thin fingers tried to stop me, tugging on my arm. I pushed it aside, sending it tumbling to the floor.
I didn't want to be here anymore. My fingers dug into the other set of chains, the additional leverage allowing me to pull them from the wall.
I didn't want to be here anymore. Lastly, with the other restraints gone, my remaining leg came free, metal snapping and breaking.
I didn't want to be here anymore. I didn't want to be here anymore. I didn't want to be here anymore! I DIDN'T WANT TO BE HERE ANYMORE!
Ah. My fingers hurt. And where did the thing with the torch go? It had left it right here, in this sticky puddle. That was rude of it.
My fingers hurt. I gripped the wall, balancing myself on my one remaining leg. Slowly, the door began to creep open.
Aw, what a nice, EVIL, puppy.
Splat.
Aw. The puppy is gone now.
That's strange. I didn't think I could cry anymore.
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I might as well crawl. I didn't want to crawl, but it would probably be faster. But I didn't want to crawl. Oh, I was already crawling. Then I might as well.
Look, another puppy. I jumped, fingers screaming as I punched, and beat, and tore, and ripped and.
Oh, it stopped moving. That was rude. Very rude.
Where was I even going? I needed to escape, but how? The screaming pain in my head was back, stronger than ever.
Had to flee. Had to escape. Had to run.
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Was that the sun? No. Heat. Flame. Fire. But there was a breeze as well. Outside?
Yes? Safe? No, not safe. Bombs. Explosions. Get to cover, get to safety.
"You!" no. Not it. It couldn't be it. It couldn't be here! My rigging, battered and strained, slowly unfolded, resisting my commands. Listen to me! Fire! FIRE!
Shell's smashed into the dark tide rushing towards me, doing little to abate its advance. My sole remaining foot pedaled backward against the sand, trying to create as much distance as possible.
"I'm going to kill you for this!" Its hands raised. My next salvo was slow to chamber. Would it even matter? Would that be enough to stop it? Do anything more than stall for a few more seconds?
I felt my eyes close.
I heard it scream. A true scream of pain, drowned by the blast wave.
Slowly, my eyes twitched open. It was hurt? Someone had hurt it?
I closed my eyes again as there was the sharp and harsh clang of metal against metal, rattling its way through my eardrums.
It fell to the ground, the dark tide abating. In its place was warmth. My eyes opened. The woman was tall, like a tower. Massive and imposing, standing over the monster of nightmares.
"I will kill all of you!" the monster bellowed, tail writhing in the sand. "Starting with you!"
Gunfire cracked. I screamed, two colossal shells sent hurtling towards me.
The two shells never made it, a wall of steel erupting out of the sand between me and it. But I could still see it. I could see it twist and shout, bellow and wriggle, as more and more giants rained shell after shell into its body, not ceasing until it was a smear.
It was dead. It wasn't going to hurt me again. I felt my eyes close again.
"Isabella! Isabella!"
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"Sir, we received an SOS signal identical to USS Isabella's first at 10:30, running up until 11:11, slowly moving eastward back towards the Philippines. We tried repeatedly to establish radio contact, but the presence of Abyssal's is jamming our signal."
That was ill news. Under normal circumstances, Johnson would have written the light cruiser off as sunk already.
However, he was under strict orders to not treat this as a standard operation. Though even without those orders he would have been suspicious about the situation. USS Isabella had been allowed to make landfall once before, so her being sunk was unlikely.
Which meant capture was on the table. And that was arguably worse. Abyssal's did not tend to take prisoners. Let alone shipgirl ones.
"Furthermore, we've been receiving another radio signal of unknown origins. Unencrypted. But it's not in English or Japanese, sir."
"Can you track the signal? It may be our mystery Luzon."
If it was Luzon, that merely raised more questions. However, she might be able to provide several answers. Provided they could find her.
"Yes sir. It's faint but trackable. Should I send a request for one of the carriers to deploy one of her scouts to check out the area?"
Johnson paused. They would likely need all the air cover they could get once the Abyssal forces became aware of their presence. However, having eyes in the sky would prove useful before they sent out the scout group to pick her up.
"Very well. How much longer until Mackerel and I-402 arrive at the rendezvous point?"
"A half-hour, sir. I-402 made it sound like she had important information for you."
Johnson raised his eyebrow. That was peculiar if nothing else.
"And she didn't transmit it?"
"No sir. All she said is that she felt the information was too important to let be released over radio transmission, so she wished to deliver it personally."
Odd. Considerably odd. Whatever it was, he certainly hoped the information was as certain as I-402 was implying it was.
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Pain was the first thing I felt. Wracking pain, across every inch of my body. My eyes opened slowly, groggily, like keeping them closed would keep away the spasms making their way through me.
I tried to raise my hand to cover my eyes from the bright, burning light that hung above my face. I tried again. And again. And again.
Why wasn't my arm moving?
Slowly, my head turned, tilting over to look at my arm. My eye's widened, as I tried to raise my other.
I whipped my head around, only to find it was in the same state. I panicked, struggling with as much strength as I could muster, fighting against the chains that bound my remaining limbs. But my response was weak, hardly enough to rattle the chains in the first place. Tears were already beginning to well up in my eyes as I fought.
I needed to get free! I needed to get out! I needed to escape!
"I'm surprised. I expected it to take longer for you to wake up."
My blood turned to ice. No, it was here. Slowly, my head turned towards the glowing blue pits staring at my face, its mouth cruel grin.
"Of course, I didn't expect you to be such a nuisance, either," it hummed, something dark twisting in its hand before it fell from my line of sight.
Slowly, it stood, tail swishing behind it like a cobra, bobbing back and forth. Each step it took was like a glacier to me. Advancing, but agonizingly oppressive, a mighty, unstoppable wall that one could only flee from.
But I couldn't run. Couldn't flee. I was chained in place. With nothing but my fear.
"So. If you don't want this to hurt," it slammed down a blade right next to my skull. It was probably meant to be some type of knife. But to me, it was too jagged, a hunk of black Abyssal steel. "You will tell me everything you know."
That was incredibly generic. Not that I'd tell it that, but still. Tell me everything you know? That's not partially useful or specific.
"Such as?" I bit down on my urge to be a smartass. As cathartic as it would be, I'm still being interrogated by the eldritch abomination with a knife. Me doing that would shave a few years off my life. At best.
It chuckled, running the flat of the cold blade against my cheek.
"You aren't exactly in a position to be playing dumb. The reinforcements. How many are coming? What is their formation? When will they arrive?" its eyes bored into my skull like drills.
"It's coming," I paused. Well, yeah, that's about the extent of my knowledge of what's happening.
"From?" the knife ground against the table, a grating sound that made my ears want to die.
"That's it. That's all I know," I blinked. "Wait, you expected them to tell me anything more? The person trapped behind enemy lines and could become compromised at any moment? That's"
I screamed as a knife buried its way into my still good leg, twisting as it went. Right, Eldritch Abomination with a knife.
"You expect me to believe that? With your crew burning how many documents during the boarding? What do you know?" it ground out, as my teeth bit into my lip to keep myself from screaming as it twisted the knife again.
Tears were already welling up in my eyes, both from the physical pain and from the fact I realized why I was so sluggish. The familiar feeling of my crew was gone. They'd been with me since I woke up, and yet now?
Still. They went down fighting. I couldn't ask for more than that. I wasn't going to let their sacrifice go to waste, either.
"I know nothing. I just know that they're coming," I grimaced, the knife being buried deeper into my flesh, scraping against the bone.
"You expect me to believe that?" it growled, barring down on me.
"Whether or not you believe it is irrelevant. It's the simple fact of the matter," I had to resist adding a 'whether you like it or not', at the end. Blood was already oozing its way out of my leg, some twisted combination of red and black.
It stared down at me for a moment, before slowly extracting the knife from my leg. I stifled a hiss of pain as the blade finally came free, covered in red and black sludge. I think it was oil? It better be oil.
"Is that so?" It rubbed a cloth over the implement, not that I'd honestly notice the difference. "Then bring in the girl."
Wait? What? No. NONONONONONONO! How! Luzon is faster than any of them! How did she, no. Unless they had a late war destroyer, there was no way!
There was no way. It was bluffing. It had to be. Continuing pursuit in its state?
"You would have led with that from the start," its eyebrow rose, turning slightly towards me.
"Oh? And what makes you think that?"
"You were by yourself. You are slower than she is. Unless you somehow chased her down with me on your back like a sack of potatoes, she's not here."
It paused for a moment before its mouth began to twist into a grin.
"You should have fallen for the bluff."
Well. Shit.
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"Sir, I think my scout plane has found our missing ship," Kaga's lips twitched into a slight frown as she read through the contact report. The Admiral in charge of this mission nodded, signaling her to continue.
"She's around 124 degrees east, and 16 degrees north, currently turning towards the Southwest," she watched as an officer placed a thumbtack on the map at her reported position.
"She's heading south-west?"
"I believe she spotted my plane first, sir, and changed course. I don't know if she realizes if we're here to help her," she paused for a moment, mulling over part of the report. "She's also very small, sir. Smaller than a destroyer, I think."
That caused a few eyebrows to rise.
"Interesting. Do you think you can use your aircraft to guide her towards us?"
"Yes sir. Though I cannot make promises as to the result," she nodded, looking at her watch. Mackerel and I-402 should have arrived by this point.
"If it keeps her from going further out into the open ocean, I'll take it. A destroyer squadron will be sent to pick her up."
He paused for a moment, likely lost in thought. Likely American, though that didn't need to be said. Shimikaze wasn't here, and even if she was, the small ship was keeping remarkable speed. Even the blistering swift destroyer would be hard-pressed to keep up.
The door opened to the sound of wet feet against metal, signaling the submarines had arrived. I-402 was strangely shifty, nervous, even. Whatever information she had, she felt it important enough to not dry off first. Kaga hadn't met the aviation submarine before, but she could see the resemblance in appearance between her and her sisters.
A shame she lacked the personality of I-400 and I-401, but alas, it wasn't meant to be. Kaga watched as the submarine's eye's flickered across the numerous ships and human personal present. Which was quite an impressive force.
Kaga, herself, of course, alongside Akagi. Ryuuhou had joined them as well, due to the other fleet carriers needing to remain on home defense, or simply on other missions. Kongo and Hiei rounded out their pure battleship component, alongside numerous other cruisers and destroyers from both Yokosuka and Sasebo.
The US contingent was more impressive. Bunker Hill leaned in one of the corners, the lower half of her face covered by her turtleneck. Shangri-La stood near her moody older sister, alongside the Essex version of Lexington. Further reinforcing the three late war carriers were Gambier Bay and White Plains. Three US battleships were also present. Sasebo's equivalent to Nagato, South Dakota, followed by Iowa, and her strange, newly summoned half-sister, Georgia. Georgia was, as she understood it, on loan from the continental United States, as were some of the other unfamiliar faces.
However, such as with Iowa, she recognized enough faces through joint combat operations, so there was unlikely to be any issues.
"I-402, I heard you have something to report?" Admiral Johnson spoke, nodding towards the aviation submarine.
"Ah, yes," I-402 stammered, "At around 12:30, my pilot that had been picked up by the US cruiser reappeared amongst my crew."
Kaga noticed confusion among a few of the humans, though most of the shipgirls and Johnson showed a dour expression.
"He said she had been captured during a holding action against the Re aviation battleship from 10:25 to 10:29," more frowns and dour looks rippled their way through the crowd. Not that Kaga blamed them. "She subsequently suffered a boarding action."
Kaga visibly winced, while her partner went as pale as a sheet. A reaction shared by many shipgirl's present. Having another ship's fairies come aboard wasn't an uncommon thing, but unwanted, no, hostile ones? It left a very deep pit in her stomach. To be taken and seized like that?
It was best not to dwell on it.
"And that was the bad news," Mackerel spoke up over the din of confused voices and mumbling that had taken hold. South Dakota sent the submarine a harsh glare, but her interruption had served its purpose, quieting things down.
"Yes," I-402 looked down at her feet. "My pilot managed to survive long enough to give me an approximate location to where the cruiser is being held." I-402 advanced slowly, picking up a thumbtack, before placing it on a map.
Kaga didn't fail to notice a soldier's eyes begin to widen in the back before he began to type furiously at his station. Still, that didn't look too far. Easily within range of strike craft.
"Sir! Those coordinates are within strike range!"
"Of carrier aircraft or of our main guns?"
"Both, sir!"
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"Is she close yet?" Sims frowned at her sister, Mustin, as she shouted at her.
"Kaga says she's still a little way out, be patient," Sims almost mimicked Omaha's words. They'd been engaging in this back and forth for the better part of an hour. The worst part was, they had to be guided by a Japanese carrier. If being stuck out here wasn't bad enough.
At least they were escorting the fastest cruiser. That way she could at the very least get some action in the main fight. Provided they arrived for that.
She hoped they arrived for that.
"You've said that a dozen times by now! What makes you so sure?" Mustin glared at the cruiser, likely just as annoyed as Sims was about missing the fight. But at least she knew how to keep her mouth shut about it and focus on the task at hand.
"Firstly, you've asked me about a half dozen times. Secondly, because that's Kaga's aircraft in the distance, meaning Luzon is close. On that note, we should probably slow down," Sims could tell by the tone of the light cruiser's voice that she was giving an order, not making a suggestion, as she began to decrease in speed.
"But why! If we're so close, shouldn't we rush in and pick her up," Mustin whined, but like her sister, was beginning to slow.
"Think about it like this. You're a small vessel, possibly a torpedo or patrol boat, running away from what you think is an enemy aircraft, when suddenly, three destroyers and a cruiser jump out at you," Omaha paused for effect. "What do you think would be their response?"
Mustin, for once, kept quiet, accepting the wisdom of the older cruiser. Sims could see why. Running the other direction in a panic would probably be the first reaction, and if what Kaga said was right, then even if they ditched Ohama, they wouldn't be able to keep up.
Which was always in the cards that Kaga could very much be wrong. But as much as she didn't like Japanese carriers, that was still a bet that was too risky to make.
"She's here," Buck spoke up for the first time since their deployment, pointing out over the water. Sims squinted, barely making up a faint outline of a figure. Despite all her sensors saying she was close, Luzon appeared minuscule. Her height put her at an even younger age than Sim and her sisters.
Strangely, she hadn't seemed to notice them yet. Either she was busy looking at Kaga's single plane, which remained at a distance, or her hair was matted entirely to her face, obscuring her vision.
Sims could believe both of those. Slowly, but surely, as Kaga's fighter broke off, Luzon became aware of their presence.
Sims had to stop herself from wincing. Luzon, for lack of better terms, looked terrible. Awful, even. Her eyes were inflamed almost bright red. Tears were still fresh under them, running down her face in messy wet splotches. Her hair was a tangled mess of knots, Sims unable to tell where one part began and ended.
She was aware the boss wanted a proper rundown of events, as any information would be useful. Especially as Luzon would have witnessed everything.
But now Sims had doubts. Would they be able to even get through to her? Luzon's eyes flitted between them, almost like an animal that had been backed into a corner.
"Luzon? I'm the USS Omaha. We're here to help you."
And that's when the shooting started.
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"Yes sir. No sir. She's calmed down now. I don't think you'll be able to question her though," Omaha shook her head. This was an absolute mess. Mercifully, none of them were really hurt. Luzon didn't get the chance to launch her torpedoes, and her armaments weren't exactly the most dangerous ship-bound weapons, even against destroyer armor.
However, what it did do was give disturbing messages about Luzon's mental state. Omaha was about as far from a psychologist as one could get, but the picture already wasn't pretty.
Right now, the smaller boat sat in the center of their formation, silent, not even moving to speak. Looking down at the waves lapping gently at their feet. Ohama wasn't sure how to even talk to her.
The cruiser called Isabell probably would, but until they got her back, that wasn't an option they had.
Provided they could get her back at all. Provided Isabell wasn't in worse shape than Luzon was.
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"They shall be my finest warriors, these men who,"
"Shut up!" there was a sickening crack, as my jaw went limp. Compared to everything else, it was merely a dull ache, compared to the agony every other inch of my body was screaming in. Blood and oil oozed from hundreds of cuts, lacerations, and even rips.
"You! Get one of the repair ships. Tell her to fix all the damage I've done, besides the leg," I could make out the faint tapping of feet as they ran down the hall.
"You do realize what comes next, right?" Its voice taunted, looming over me. I just stared blankly ahead, eyes locked on the ceiling, as they had been forever how long it had been since I started doing so. "Once you are patched up, I'll do this again, and again, and again. Until you break. And make no mistake, you will break."
"Once you tell me what I want to know, I'll bring you to the Abyss as gently as possible. But until you do, I'll make this as painful as possible. Think of it as payback for all the trouble you caused me."
I continued to stare at the ceiling. How long had it been since I lost the strength to cry? Maybe I still was. I can't recall. I didn't want to give it the satisfaction of seeing my fear.
But she probably could anyway.
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The fact she wouldn't talk was frustrating. Either she honestly didn't know, which had certainly slipped its way through her mind, or the shipgirl was lying.
Either way, it wouldn't matter. Time may be in short supply, but it was something she still had. Her forces would be armed and prepared for a strike at the first sign of any shipgirl activity, with both the carriers and air bases being able to land a devastating first strike. Given the distance, it would likely take a day or two for them to arrive, even at top speed.
More than enough time to finish up with the cruiser, no matter how stubborn she was about it. Who knows, maybe breaking her rescuers would prove enough to break her resolve. What little might be left.
That's what she would herself as an explosion rocked the area. Followed by another. And another. And another.
A stone found itself pulverized under her foot. Will the problems never cease! The nuisance of a cruiser was in chains! The tiny torpedo boat scared off, likely to sink the ocean! What could go wrong now!
It couldn't be an attack. Most certainly not. It was unlikely that they would assault her position without heavy elements, regardless of what information they had on her. That would slow them down, even if they rushed across the ocean to the Philippines. To her domain!
She opened her frequencies, only for panic and confusion to come through. Explosions rang in the background, as madness reined.
She snarled, barking at a nearby destroyer to stand guard.
Fine. If she didn't have time, then she'd break the attackers herself!
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The plan had been as simple as it was brutal. All five fleet carriers would send out a strike, taking out any Abyssal's stationed between them, and USS Isabella's suspected location, with the surface fleet, built around the five battleships, finishing off any survivors that remained. Ryuuhou, White Plains, and Gamba Bay were meant as a backup but were tasked with knocking out any airfields that were in the area. The rest of the fleet would be back with the carriers, and by extension, further covered by a fighter screen and the Vestal itself.
Once the first attack wave had been completed, they were to signal back to the Vestal to commence bombardment.
And so far, the plan has worked. South Dakota saw the burning wrecks of numerous Abyssals, what few surviving were easily finished off by gunfire or torpedoes. Of course, the more bombs and torpedoes spent before they reach their main target, the less devastation there would be.
Even with Vestal's guns, they were more to bombard shore defenses, rather than sink any Abyssals. Sure, a lucky hit would do the trick, but they were at maximum range. Such would be too much to ask. And once they got close, Vestal would have to cease fire support anyway, out of fear of hitting their own forces.
And the less remained, the easier it was going to be. Not only breaking in but also getting out. They were retrieving a cruiser of unknown condition. The less fighting they had to do on the return journey, the better.
All South Dakota could hope for is that this didn't turn into more of a disaster than it already was.
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There was, shaking? Dust sprinkled down along my face.
Had, had I blacked out again? I couldn't remember. But I think the dust was new. Maybe. I couldn't tell about that, either.
But the shaking was. Earthquake? Maybe. They were part of the ring of fire, right?
The burning sensation was new too. Why hadn't I noticed it earlier? Slowly, my head turned, eyes landing on a hunched creature, a blowtorch in hand, attaching grafts to my skin. Oh, I was being forgetful again.
It hurt to think.
There was another quake, followed by a loud crack. My head turned. My captor's, I think it was my captor, head turned.
That was neat. The chain was no longer attached to the wall.
I didn't want to be here anymore. Its thin fingers tried to stop me, tugging on my arm. I pushed it aside, sending it tumbling to the floor.
I didn't want to be here anymore. My fingers dug into the other set of chains, the additional leverage allowing me to pull them from the wall.
I didn't want to be here anymore. Lastly, with the other restraints gone, my remaining leg came free, metal snapping and breaking.
I didn't want to be here anymore. I didn't want to be here anymore. I didn't want to be here anymore! I DIDN'T WANT TO BE HERE ANYMORE!
Ah. My fingers hurt. And where did the thing with the torch go? It had left it right here, in this sticky puddle. That was rude of it.
My fingers hurt. I gripped the wall, balancing myself on my one remaining leg. Slowly, the door began to creep open.
Aw, what a nice, EVIL, puppy.
Splat.
Aw. The puppy is gone now.
That's strange. I didn't think I could cry anymore.
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I might as well crawl. I didn't want to crawl, but it would probably be faster. But I didn't want to crawl. Oh, I was already crawling. Then I might as well.
Look, another puppy. I jumped, fingers screaming as I punched, and beat, and tore, and ripped and.
Oh, it stopped moving. That was rude. Very rude.
Where was I even going? I needed to escape, but how? The screaming pain in my head was back, stronger than ever.
Had to flee. Had to escape. Had to run.
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Was that the sun? No. Heat. Flame. Fire. But there was a breeze as well. Outside?
Yes? Safe? No, not safe. Bombs. Explosions. Get to cover, get to safety.
"You!" no. Not it. It couldn't be it. It couldn't be here! My rigging, battered and strained, slowly unfolded, resisting my commands. Listen to me! Fire! FIRE!
Shell's smashed into the dark tide rushing towards me, doing little to abate its advance. My sole remaining foot pedaled backward against the sand, trying to create as much distance as possible.
"I'm going to kill you for this!" Its hands raised. My next salvo was slow to chamber. Would it even matter? Would that be enough to stop it? Do anything more than stall for a few more seconds?
I felt my eyes close.
I heard it scream. A true scream of pain, drowned by the blast wave.
Slowly, my eyes twitched open. It was hurt? Someone had hurt it?
I closed my eyes again as there was the sharp and harsh clang of metal against metal, rattling its way through my eardrums.
It fell to the ground, the dark tide abating. In its place was warmth. My eyes opened. The woman was tall, like a tower. Massive and imposing, standing over the monster of nightmares.
"I will kill all of you!" the monster bellowed, tail writhing in the sand. "Starting with you!"
Gunfire cracked. I screamed, two colossal shells sent hurtling towards me.
The two shells never made it, a wall of steel erupting out of the sand between me and it. But I could still see it. I could see it twist and shout, bellow and wriggle, as more and more giants rained shell after shell into its body, not ceasing until it was a smear.
It was dead. It wasn't going to hurt me again. I felt my eyes close again.
"Isabella! Isabella!"
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- Location
- Dodging chaos dragons in Limbo
I've been enjoying this story a lot, thanks for sharing! Eagerly awaiting the rest of this arc. 
- Location
- Home
captured, and still trying to escape.
tortured for god knows how long, and still trying to escape.
battered, hurt, leg fucking ripped off, and still trying to escape.
Isabella is a goddamn determinator. I'm looking forward to the conclusion of this arc, and that you continue the fic after. Luzon and Isabella deserve some hijinks after this horror show
tortured for god knows how long, and still trying to escape.
battered, hurt, leg fucking ripped off, and still trying to escape.
Isabella is a goddamn determinator. I'm looking forward to the conclusion of this arc, and that you continue the fic after. Luzon and Isabella deserve some hijinks after this horror show
Thank you. It's safe to say that we are in the endgame now.I've been enjoying this story a lot, thanks for sharing! Eagerly awaiting the rest of this arc.
The sequel I currently have in the works is going to have some dark moments, but it'll probably be more light-hearted than this.
Interlude 1
"So, how bad is it?" Richardson already wasn't liking the look on Vulcan's face. The reports he'd already received did not paint a good picture. Torture. Boarding actions. Several in the navy were already up in arms in the matter, and not in a good way.
"Would you believe me if I told you Luzon is the worse off of the two?" Vulcan's scowled, fingers running through her hair. He'd believe that too if half of what he heard was true. "Sure, physically, she's mostly fine, other than literal months without maintenance."
Richardson hadn't heard about that.
"Sir, she had months of mold buildup and rot in her wooden planks. That's beside the point," Vulcan rubbed her hands against her forehead. "If it were up to me, Luzon shouldn't be allowed to sortie again under any circumstances. And that was before her being in Abyssal held territory for months."
That caused Richardson to raise an eyebrow. Given how it might come down to that.
"She's Q-111," ah. That had been one of the options once her name became known. Now he could see why Vulcan was concerned. "Also known as Patrol Boat 114. She was sunk twice trying to defend the Philipines. Luzon would be a mess even without her time spent behind enemy lines. With Isabella's capture and torture certainly not helping matters."
"I'm not a psychologist, sir, but she's come close to cracking. Hardly interacts with anyone if Isabella isn't nearby. Blames herself for what happened to Isabella as well, despite the fact charging a battleship of that size would be a Taffy level of dangerous," Vulcan sighed, resting her head on the table for a moment. "Blames herself for the loss of the Philipines. And before you ask which time, it's all of them. Doesn't matter. She wasn't even summoned by the time the Abyssal's stormed the Philipines, and that doesn't stop her."
"The only reason we even know that much is due to her stumbling across Petty Officer Andria Reyes. It was awful. She was begging for forgiveness for failing to defend the Philipines, screaming, shouting. And it had been a good day for her up until that point," Richardson scowled. "It took Isabella an hour to get Luzon to stop crying."
"She's also phobic of just about every other ship on board to boot. She can handle being around some of the older American Destroyers, and myself, but she's scared about just about everyone else, sans Isabella herself. Won't even get near anyone else without Isabella around," Vulcan let out another sigh. "Despite knowing that the war is over."
"And speaking of Isabella. How are things on that front?" Vulcan's groan of response did not fill him with encouragement.
"I wish I could say it was the damage was completely reversed. She was found in the middle of a mental breakdown, or close enough to it. Reports showed she beat several Abyssal destroyers to death with nothing more than her bare hands," Vulcan placed her face in her palms. "And given their state, I'd agree with that assessment. I got a good enough look at them while removing the Abyssal metal grafts they put on her."
"Wait? Are you telling me they put Abyssal metal onto her?" Richardson felt his stomach sink. Oh, that wasn't going over to go over well with the brass. Even if they were ultimately harmless.
"Sadly. They were being used to patch up over a hundred knife wounds. Another layer of torture, if I had to guess. Like stitching someone's skin back together without medicine to dull the pain, but replace the stitches with sheet metal and a blowtorch," Vulcan's face had paled considerably in disgust. "I don't think it had any effect, thank God, at least when compared to everything else."
"Everything else?" Richardson almost hated to ask, but he needed as much information as possible.
"Based on South Dakota's report," Vulcan passed, abandoning her screen for a moment, with only the sound of wrestling paper's coming through. Finally, the repair ship returned, carrying an impressive folder. "Summarizing most of the important parts of the report, Isabella was pretty much unconscious for the entire journey. However, while Iowa's and South Dakota were clearing out imps, she would mutter things along the lines of 'don't let me become one of them'."
"Shit," that was just about the only appropriate response Richardson could muster.
"I can't tell if it was simply pain-induced delirium talking, what Isabella thought its goal was, or if it was its actual goal. None of them are particularly good," Vulcan scowled, shaking her head.
"So why Isabella? The Re had to know about Luzon as well," Richardson frowned. Now he was becoming increasingly thankful that Abyssal's didn't take prisoners. Hopefully, the practice didn't spread. Otherwise, there were going to be a lot of issues.
"Well, besides the difference between a PT boat and a light cruiser, I have some hypothesis. And they make me sick thinking about them," Vulcan's face turned an interesting shade of green for a moment. "Firstly, as expected, Isabella's hull is a perfect match with Seattle's. Meaning she's a shipgirl of an unbuilt ship. The Re might have been able to tell that, and as such, well, I don't think I need to tell you what she decided to do."
No, it didn't entirely match up. If that were fully the case then Isabella would have been captured right after landing.
"Anyway, none of those wounds are healing quite properly either," Vulcan once again placed her head on the desk. Richardson's eye's widened in alarm. That was the last thing he needed to hear right now. "And before you worry, her leg is fine, baring the scar tissue around where it was torn off. The same goes for the knife wounds. Which is strange, given all her previous injuries have healed perfectly."
"Previous?" Richardson wanted to smack himself. Of course, there would be previous damage.
"Yep. Her crew was helpful, even if they burned the damage reports when trying to fight off the boarders," there was more fluttering of papers. "Mind you, this isn't extensive, but they included most everything they can remember. Most of the pre-island damage is minor five-inch shell or shrapnel damage, barring her she nearly popping a propeller loose jumping a torpedo."
"Hold on. Did you just say she jumped a torpedo?" That didn't sound right. That didn't sound right at all.
"Yeah, I was surprised too. Want to question her about that incident, but I have bigger problems, and as I understand, you'd rather wait on debriefing," Vulcan looked at him for confirmation. He nodded but jotted down a note to make sure the question was asked. "It's when she got to the Philipines when things got bad. During her approach, she took two eight-inch shells. One to her forward turret, another managing to knock out a boiler on impact. Both were duds."
"Both?" Richardson didn't want to sound paranoid, but that couldn't be a coincidence. One was fortune enough. Two?
"Yeah. I'm suspicious of that too. Either way, Isabella ordered her forward turret to be scrapped because they lacked the resources to repair it and the metal could go to other components for repairs," Vulcan simply nodded in approval. "From there it was mostly bumps, scratches, and the like. The last major one, is odd, to say the least."
"Odd? How so?" Richardson didn't like where this was going.
"The crew called it a submerged operation against an Abyssal gun emplacement. After the blast, Isabella was hit by shrapnel that pierced her ankle region, which left her considerable hobbled on land," Vulcan shook her head. "I'm guessing by submerged action they meant she swam, but."
Richardson didn't need her to finish. Swimming was not something most shipgirls did. Submarines enjoyed the activity, but most others did not.
"And how is she mentally?" this was the question Richardson was not wanting to have answered.
"Honestly? Not great. Given what she's been through, the fact her personality seems intact is a miracle. I can't tell how much of it is either her experiences exaggerating her natural disposition or if she's just naturally extremely introverted," Vulcan frowned. "She jumps at almost every little sound, prone to staring off into space, and if she gets lost on the ship Isabella pretty much freeze's up on the spot, muttering to herself. Breaking her out of that state causes her to make a noise that's comparable to someone being strangled."
"It wouldn't surprise me if she developed some type of hero complex of everyone on this ship, to be honest. I don't think she'll act on it that much. There's probably more we don't know yet, but she seems to be aware of her surroundings most of the time."
"Have you considered isolating them?" Richardson didn't want it to come to that, but things weren't sounding good.
"From everyone else, or from each other? Because I can tell you that the latter wouldn't work. Luzon and Isabella are each other's coping mechanisms. And honestly, outside interaction with others does both of them good. Plus, it helps to see them interact with others anyway. Though, there are questions about her that trauma doesn't answer," Vulcan paused for a moment.
"Such as?" Richardson prompted Vulcan to go on.
"Well, when I introduced myself, she said 'like the salamanders'," Richardson raised his eyebrow. Did that have some type of meaning he wasn't aware of? "She later apologized about it, once she was a bit more lucid. She also has no problem with Japanese ships being part of the rescue effort, and she knew about the end of the war. Something most unbuilt shipgirls don't know about."
"She might have picked some information up during her travels," Richardson winced, remembering more than a handful of sour incidents on that front. "We don't exactly know how long she was out there, after all."
Vulcan merely nodded. Unlikely, given her first reference, but possible. Slowly, from there, the meeting wrapped up, with her promising to wait to break the news about her having a sister, though Kongo wasn't exactly being subtle about it.
Suddenly there was a knock on her door before Iowa forced her way inside.
"Vulcan, you might want to see this," the battleship seemed to be more assumed than concerned, so with a sigh, Vulcan pushed herself out of her seat, tailing behind Iowa through the winding corridors. The path seemed familiar to her.
Eventually, they arrived at their destination. The Recreational room? Why had Iowa brought her there? Vulcan peaked inside, noticing both her patients.
Was this the first time she'd seen them smile like that?
"Would you believe me if I told you Luzon is the worse off of the two?" Vulcan's scowled, fingers running through her hair. He'd believe that too if half of what he heard was true. "Sure, physically, she's mostly fine, other than literal months without maintenance."
Richardson hadn't heard about that.
"Sir, she had months of mold buildup and rot in her wooden planks. That's beside the point," Vulcan rubbed her hands against her forehead. "If it were up to me, Luzon shouldn't be allowed to sortie again under any circumstances. And that was before her being in Abyssal held territory for months."
That caused Richardson to raise an eyebrow. Given how it might come down to that.
"She's Q-111," ah. That had been one of the options once her name became known. Now he could see why Vulcan was concerned. "Also known as Patrol Boat 114. She was sunk twice trying to defend the Philipines. Luzon would be a mess even without her time spent behind enemy lines. With Isabella's capture and torture certainly not helping matters."
"I'm not a psychologist, sir, but she's come close to cracking. Hardly interacts with anyone if Isabella isn't nearby. Blames herself for what happened to Isabella as well, despite the fact charging a battleship of that size would be a Taffy level of dangerous," Vulcan sighed, resting her head on the table for a moment. "Blames herself for the loss of the Philipines. And before you ask which time, it's all of them. Doesn't matter. She wasn't even summoned by the time the Abyssal's stormed the Philipines, and that doesn't stop her."
"The only reason we even know that much is due to her stumbling across Petty Officer Andria Reyes. It was awful. She was begging for forgiveness for failing to defend the Philipines, screaming, shouting. And it had been a good day for her up until that point," Richardson scowled. "It took Isabella an hour to get Luzon to stop crying."
"She's also phobic of just about every other ship on board to boot. She can handle being around some of the older American Destroyers, and myself, but she's scared about just about everyone else, sans Isabella herself. Won't even get near anyone else without Isabella around," Vulcan let out another sigh. "Despite knowing that the war is over."
"And speaking of Isabella. How are things on that front?" Vulcan's groan of response did not fill him with encouragement.
"I wish I could say it was the damage was completely reversed. She was found in the middle of a mental breakdown, or close enough to it. Reports showed she beat several Abyssal destroyers to death with nothing more than her bare hands," Vulcan placed her face in her palms. "And given their state, I'd agree with that assessment. I got a good enough look at them while removing the Abyssal metal grafts they put on her."
"Wait? Are you telling me they put Abyssal metal onto her?" Richardson felt his stomach sink. Oh, that wasn't going over to go over well with the brass. Even if they were ultimately harmless.
"Sadly. They were being used to patch up over a hundred knife wounds. Another layer of torture, if I had to guess. Like stitching someone's skin back together without medicine to dull the pain, but replace the stitches with sheet metal and a blowtorch," Vulcan's face had paled considerably in disgust. "I don't think it had any effect, thank God, at least when compared to everything else."
"Everything else?" Richardson almost hated to ask, but he needed as much information as possible.
"Based on South Dakota's report," Vulcan passed, abandoning her screen for a moment, with only the sound of wrestling paper's coming through. Finally, the repair ship returned, carrying an impressive folder. "Summarizing most of the important parts of the report, Isabella was pretty much unconscious for the entire journey. However, while Iowa's and South Dakota were clearing out imps, she would mutter things along the lines of 'don't let me become one of them'."
"Shit," that was just about the only appropriate response Richardson could muster.
"I can't tell if it was simply pain-induced delirium talking, what Isabella thought its goal was, or if it was its actual goal. None of them are particularly good," Vulcan scowled, shaking her head.
"So why Isabella? The Re had to know about Luzon as well," Richardson frowned. Now he was becoming increasingly thankful that Abyssal's didn't take prisoners. Hopefully, the practice didn't spread. Otherwise, there were going to be a lot of issues.
"Well, besides the difference between a PT boat and a light cruiser, I have some hypothesis. And they make me sick thinking about them," Vulcan's face turned an interesting shade of green for a moment. "Firstly, as expected, Isabella's hull is a perfect match with Seattle's. Meaning she's a shipgirl of an unbuilt ship. The Re might have been able to tell that, and as such, well, I don't think I need to tell you what she decided to do."
No, it didn't entirely match up. If that were fully the case then Isabella would have been captured right after landing.
"Anyway, none of those wounds are healing quite properly either," Vulcan once again placed her head on the desk. Richardson's eye's widened in alarm. That was the last thing he needed to hear right now. "And before you worry, her leg is fine, baring the scar tissue around where it was torn off. The same goes for the knife wounds. Which is strange, given all her previous injuries have healed perfectly."
"Previous?" Richardson wanted to smack himself. Of course, there would be previous damage.
"Yep. Her crew was helpful, even if they burned the damage reports when trying to fight off the boarders," there was more fluttering of papers. "Mind you, this isn't extensive, but they included most everything they can remember. Most of the pre-island damage is minor five-inch shell or shrapnel damage, barring her she nearly popping a propeller loose jumping a torpedo."
"Hold on. Did you just say she jumped a torpedo?" That didn't sound right. That didn't sound right at all.
"Yeah, I was surprised too. Want to question her about that incident, but I have bigger problems, and as I understand, you'd rather wait on debriefing," Vulcan looked at him for confirmation. He nodded but jotted down a note to make sure the question was asked. "It's when she got to the Philipines when things got bad. During her approach, she took two eight-inch shells. One to her forward turret, another managing to knock out a boiler on impact. Both were duds."
"Both?" Richardson didn't want to sound paranoid, but that couldn't be a coincidence. One was fortune enough. Two?
"Yeah. I'm suspicious of that too. Either way, Isabella ordered her forward turret to be scrapped because they lacked the resources to repair it and the metal could go to other components for repairs," Vulcan simply nodded in approval. "From there it was mostly bumps, scratches, and the like. The last major one, is odd, to say the least."
"Odd? How so?" Richardson didn't like where this was going.
"The crew called it a submerged operation against an Abyssal gun emplacement. After the blast, Isabella was hit by shrapnel that pierced her ankle region, which left her considerable hobbled on land," Vulcan shook her head. "I'm guessing by submerged action they meant she swam, but."
Richardson didn't need her to finish. Swimming was not something most shipgirls did. Submarines enjoyed the activity, but most others did not.
"And how is she mentally?" this was the question Richardson was not wanting to have answered.
"Honestly? Not great. Given what she's been through, the fact her personality seems intact is a miracle. I can't tell how much of it is either her experiences exaggerating her natural disposition or if she's just naturally extremely introverted," Vulcan frowned. "She jumps at almost every little sound, prone to staring off into space, and if she gets lost on the ship Isabella pretty much freeze's up on the spot, muttering to herself. Breaking her out of that state causes her to make a noise that's comparable to someone being strangled."
"It wouldn't surprise me if she developed some type of hero complex of everyone on this ship, to be honest. I don't think she'll act on it that much. There's probably more we don't know yet, but she seems to be aware of her surroundings most of the time."
"Have you considered isolating them?" Richardson didn't want it to come to that, but things weren't sounding good.
"From everyone else, or from each other? Because I can tell you that the latter wouldn't work. Luzon and Isabella are each other's coping mechanisms. And honestly, outside interaction with others does both of them good. Plus, it helps to see them interact with others anyway. Though, there are questions about her that trauma doesn't answer," Vulcan paused for a moment.
"Such as?" Richardson prompted Vulcan to go on.
"Well, when I introduced myself, she said 'like the salamanders'," Richardson raised his eyebrow. Did that have some type of meaning he wasn't aware of? "She later apologized about it, once she was a bit more lucid. She also has no problem with Japanese ships being part of the rescue effort, and she knew about the end of the war. Something most unbuilt shipgirls don't know about."
"She might have picked some information up during her travels," Richardson winced, remembering more than a handful of sour incidents on that front. "We don't exactly know how long she was out there, after all."
Vulcan merely nodded. Unlikely, given her first reference, but possible. Slowly, from there, the meeting wrapped up, with her promising to wait to break the news about her having a sister, though Kongo wasn't exactly being subtle about it.
Suddenly there was a knock on her door before Iowa forced her way inside.
"Vulcan, you might want to see this," the battleship seemed to be more assumed than concerned, so with a sigh, Vulcan pushed herself out of her seat, tailing behind Iowa through the winding corridors. The path seemed familiar to her.
Eventually, they arrived at their destination. The Recreational room? Why had Iowa brought her there? Vulcan peaked inside, noticing both her patients.
Was this the first time she'd seen them smile like that?
Chapter 13
South Dakota stared down at the girl that twisted fitfully in her arms with such intensity one might be led to believe the battleship had x-ray vision.
Sadly, South Dakota did not have such an ability. And the reports she'd been hearing from her crew made her thankful she didn't have such an ability, either.
In the mere ten minutes, it had been since the death of the Re, and her, Iowa, and Kongo preparing a joint bordering action, the cruiser known as Isabella looked just as poorly on the inside as she did on the outside. Machinery smashed, the lights shattered, and countless other defilements and destruction performed by the now trapped borders. One last act of wanton destruction.
Isabella had spent most of those moments twitching violently in her arms, nearly thrashing in her grasp. But as more and more invaders fell, the less pained her expression became. Though it was still too far from peaceful for comfort.
Still, the fact her crew had started to return was a good sign.
South Dakota winced, as Iowa let out a whistle of impression, while Kongo simply looked amused. She couldn't blame Isabella's crew for being excessive in their desire to take back their ship, but unloading an entire clip into an imp after impaling it on a bayonet was simply a waste of ammunition.
But there was still going to be an issue once they made it back to the Vestal. The numerous plates of Abyssal metal had been welded into her body. Something would have to be done about those before Isabella could be put into a repair bath. Nobody knew what type of effect they would have on her when combined with the repair fluids. They might do nothing.
The risk of them having adverse effects was much too great for them to take, however.
Which meant they were going to have to come off. A process bound to be just as painful as the one that saw them attached.
"Don't," Isabella muttered, far from the first time, head rolling aimlessly. South Dakota wanted to run her fingers through the cruiser's white hair, though she doubted it would bring Isabella any comfort.
However, she would make sure what Isabella feared would never come to pass. She could do that much, at least.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Vulcan was a flurry of activity, even before everyone had returned. Outside of Isabella, which she had already been told would need attention before they could place her in a repair bath, nobody was too horribly wounded.
But the fact they had told her Isabella was a different case entirely was already setting off alarm bells. Even Luzon didn't need her full attention. Physically, at any rate. Psychologically was a completely different story, she could already tell, not that she blamed the small PT boat.
The footfalls of several battleships echoed down the hall, signaling Isabella's arrival.
Vulcan had expected an unconscious patient. Not a cruiser with a dopy, almost drugged up grin on her face, doing her best impression of a boneless cat. Watching South Dakota struggling with a light cruiser in a fight to avoid dropping her was almost amusing if it wasn't so concerning.
Especially given all the black splotch's that a distance almost looked as if they were fused into her body. She didn't need to be told why those needed to go.
"Put her down on the table, and I'll get the medicine," she frowned, moving over towards one of the cabinets. Sure, the light cruiser was loopy and probably wasn't feeling much of anything. But operating while she was asleep would be considerably easier.
Aw, yes, there it was. She was a light cruiser, around a Cleveland class in size and weight. That would mean. One and a half pill dose.
Though South Dakota's movements didn't escape her notice. Based on the numerous rents, dents, and outright punctures in her shields, she'd take a beating of her own out there. Vulcan wasn't too surprised by that, nor the fact she'd still insisted on carrying the light cruiser all the way here. Even if she was doing her best to mask her injuries.
"Can you prop her up for me, please?" Vulcan turned around, as South Dakota did as instructed. With considerably difficult, as Isabella had yet to stop doing her best impression of a boneless cat.
"Isabella?" she started, hoping the light cruiser would respond to her name, even in her current state. Vulcan wasn't above forcing the pills down her patient's throat if that's what needed to be done. But she preferred that it didn't reach that point.
Slowly, Isabella's head turned to face her, actually staying up straight for a moment. Before flopping to the side.
"My name is Vulcan. I need you to say, ah, okay?" Isabella stared at her, the eye's slowly blinking. Great, so she was none responsive.
"Vulcan?" Isabella's head rolled over to the side, chuckling as she went. "Like the Salamanders?" This time, it was Vulcan's turn to blink as her patient continued to giggle and snort as if she had just heard a funny joke of some kind.
Sure, it was something Vulcan had heard a few times before. No, that reference was made far too often, almost to the point.
But how would Isabella, a ship who spent lord only knew how much time behind enemy lines, make that reference? It made absolutely zero sense.
"Vulcan?" South Dakota spoke softly, tilting her head towards the now cackling light cruiser. Well, it wasn't exactly her saying ah, but it would do.
Isabella swallowed the medicine in an instant, before resuming her laughter, which steadily began to taper off.
"Haha, sleep go," Isabella's eye's closed, head falling over, breathing lightly as the medicine took hold.
"Damn, that stuff works fast," Iowa looked impressed, as Vulcan reached for a welding mask.
"Yes, it does," Vulcan reached over towards her equipment. "Thank you for your assistance South Dakota, but it's probably for the best if you hit the baths yourself. This will probably take a while."
"If it's the same to you, I'd rather stay," South Dakota stood up, the battleship seeming to think she could hide her injuries from the smaller repair ship. Behind the welding mask, Vulcan's eye's narrowed.
"South Dakota, I can tell you're injured. You walking around like this isn't going to help anyone," Vulcan snapped, despite the battleship easily reaching up to more than triple her displacement.
"I understand your concern, South Dakota, but she's safe right here, and in good hands, to boot," Iowa stepped in, placing a hand on the older battleship's shoulder. "I'll keep an eye on her until you get back, okay?"
Vulcan watched South Dakota's eyes shift between the three of them, almost moving like a blur.
"I," the battleship breathed deeply. "I understand. Thank you for staying, Iowa." South Dakota made her way to the door, her gaze lingering on the light cruiser for a moment, before heading down the hall.
"Thank you for that," Vulcan sighed. Iowa simply nodded, though the frown of concern didn't escape her notice.
Still, there was work to be done.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Another blackened plate popped off, revealing the puncture wound beneath. Vulcan stopped being surprising after the fifth, honestly. This went beyond torture. This was nothing but cruelty. At this point, she might just have to send in her repair teams now.
Breaking off another offending chunk of Abyssal metal further down Isabella's arm, she noticed something. Carefully, making sure not to further disturb her patient, she lifted her hand at the palm.
And almost instantly regretted it, gagging behind her mask. Vulcan didn't think a finger was meant to bend the way Isabella's was, but she didn't realize it was indicative of her entire hand.
"What? Happened?" she hissed as Iowa made her way over, noticing her reaction.
Isabella's fingers were a knarled mess, and that was simply on a single hand. The other was likely just as bad, though at the moment she wasn't in any rush to check. One of her fingers had been twisted around completely, its twitch the reason Vulcan had even been drawn to the light cruiser's hand.
"We found her jumping an Abyssal destroyer, beating it to death with her bare hands," Iowa didn't seem as disturbed over the matter as Vulcan was. "We don't know if she did it to any others, but I think so."
Vulcan had to agree with Iowa's assumption, but they'd have to know more to be sure. She'd need a damage report from Isabella's crew to be certain about the extent of the damage, of course. But there were a few other factors at play. This easily could the result of multiple collisions with destroyers.
Or it could be Isabella, in likely blind panic and pain, simply wasn't throwing a proper punch, just flailing blindly. That could cause injuries in humans, even broken bones if she recalled correctly. Such might affect the armor after multiple collisions.
Just a hypothesis, but it only made the necessity of having eyes on the inside all the more important.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
"Hey, hey hey hey," their guide managed to weave their way through the throng of people running through the halls. Various crewmembers ran back and forth, carrying guns, ammunition, alongside scraps of metal ranging in size from a dinner plate to a full sheet.
Occasionally, a gunshot would ring out, signaling that another invader that had been hiding in some dark corner had been found and killed. All around them, holes were being patched up and repaired.
"Hey!" another fairy, one in an engineering uniform, waved at a group of sailors that were just about ready to start sealing a minor gash, redirecting them elsewhere.
The closer they got to their destination, the thinner the crowds and repair efforts got. Soon the only other fairies they saw were patrols, squads of fewer than 4, each one armed. Here, the walls of the ship became marred, damage easier to see the further they got from centralized components.
"Hey, hey hey," the fairy paused, jotting down notes as they finally reached the section of the ship they were interested in.
"Hey," entire sections of the hull were crumpled, warped in a manner consistent with collisions. No. Not collisions. Ramming. Just more. More of everything. That was the only explanation. Repeat, numerous, and brutal ramming.
"Hey!" their guide crossed their arms, letting out a huff.
The warping to the hull was extensive. Miraculously, her hull hadn't been torn open, but in some places, it was a near thing.
Sure, this wasn't anything the bath couldn't fix. But that wasn't the entirety of their orders. While the internal damage may confirm Vulcan's hypothesis, they still had been sent to collect the full extent of Isabella's injuries.
Which had been problematic, given that most of the damage team was busy trying to fix the numerous gashes in the hull, alongside the burned damage reports.
If they could see more of the damage, they might be able to get a clearer picture of the mess.
"Hey! HEY!" their guide suddenly shouted, leveling his rifle down the hallway.
It looked like a monster. Its limbs too long. Its teeth too long and too numerous. Its face lacked anything that could be considered eyes. Its mouth opened, letting out a screech that could only be described as unnatural, and charged.
BAM! The gunshot cracked out, reverberating down the hallway as the bullet smashed directly into the imp's skull, sending it plummeting backward.
"Hey, hey hey,"
Yes, returning to the relative safety of the bridge sounded lovely.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
"Iowa, it seems your crew missed a few," Vulcan frowned, already hearing back from the few she had sent in. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the battleship wince.
"Some hid themselves during the fighting. Isabella's crew said they wanted to deal with the remnants," Iowa frowned. Vulcan understood. She could easily see how her crew would react if she had been in the light cruiser's shoes.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Admiral Richardson rubbed his hands against his forehead. The good news? Isabella and Luzon had been rescued and were now safe, and a second force could be sent to wipe out what's left of the Abyssal presence. The bad news?
Just about everything else. Luzon was already shaping to be a multipronged legal mess. Due in part because Luzon technically served under the United States Army, rather than the Navy. A factor likely compounded by both her service in the Japanese Navy and made considerably more problematic because the in exile Philippine government would certainly make noise about seeing Luzon returned.
And that was without touching on Isabella herself.
He'd already ordered that debriefing wait until she arrived back as Sasebo. An action that only proved to be wiser in hindsight.
Of course, the report he had been given wasn't painting a good picture. Isabella having to be reboarded. Her body covered in Abyssal metal sheets, delaying her from being placed in the repair bathes.
On top of the those above him breathing down his neck trying to figure out how a light cruiser ended up enemy territory in the first place, alongside her current condition. The latter of which he intended to play close to his chest until Richardson had more information. Granted, he desired information about the former as well. Of course, that wasn't the only question he had.
And those questions revolved around the last person Richardson wanted to tell about this. Seattle. How exactly did one tell someone they not only had a sister but that said sister had been captured and tortured by an enemy force?
That was not an easy conversation to have under normal circumstances. The problem was, Seattle shouldn't have a sister. Still, there was a chance the two ships could be different, but that seemed increasingly unlikely. More than a few reports went into Isabella's physical appearance, and he would be lying if he claimed to not see the resemblance.
Which, if she was Seattle's sister, then that raised several questions. Several questions Isabella might not be able to answer.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
It. It felt like I was floating. The relaxing lapping of ocean waves. Soothing.
Then the pain came. Roaring back, screaming through my entire body. Everything felt like fire, wreathing, and bellowing.
Every nerve ending fired in unison, again and again, wracking every inch of my body with agony.
My eyes opened, body jolting upward, gasping.
Steam filled the air. All around me was a wall of steam.
Where? Where was I?
I let out a hiss as my head throbbed. No, I didn't have time for this. I needed to think. I needed to know how I got here.
Okay. I appeared in the Pacific. I headed into the Philippines. I met Luzon shortly thereafter, giving myself the ship name of Isabella. Then.
My head throbbed again. No. I needed to remember! There was a combat operation. A few. Rescuing a downed pilot, the assault on the gun.
The KNIFE as it STABBED, STABBED, STABBED.
Something tore itself from my throat as I gasped, pain flaring up across my body.
What? The Hell? Was that? What was I forgetting? I, I, I needed to run?
Something? Could I run? No? Did I need to run?
There was PAIN and BLOOD and PAIN, but there was a person? A woman?
She picked me up? I think?
My brain throbbed and pulsated, hammering into the sides of my skull, almost intent to crush itself. Or batter its way out, one of the two.
Water lapped against more and more of my body as I sunk back down. I don't think I'm in danger. At the very least, my sense of DREAD and TERROR were gone. Plus, I wasn't going anywhere fast.
Wait? How did I know that? I should have both legs, right?
See, there's one. Everything should be, just, fine…
Not fine. Not fine. Absolutely and completely not fine. My leg. Where was my leg? How? How had it been RIPPED and TORN from my body?
Pain continued to well up, with me biting back a scream as my hands clutched my skull. Make it stop! Make it stop!
Something had come with my hand. Something stirred at my side as if awakening from slumber.
"Isabella?" the voice was familiar. Licking at my inflamed memory.
Slowly, my head began to turn. Two brown orbs stared back at me.
I stared back. Could it be? Could it really be? Her? She's, she's okay? She's alright?
"Luzon?" I couldn't get out the words. She was fine. She was unhurt. Oh, thank goodness. I felt wet heat began to flow down my face. Tears. These were tears.
"Isabella?" her arms began to wrap around me, like thin, tiny wires. But they were warm, and light. Gentle, like a feather. Careful, not to hurt me.
I returned the embrace, not caring how much pain my arms were in. She was safe! She was safe! I pulled her close, clinging to her like a lifeline. She was safe!
And at that moment, that was all that mattered.
Sadly, South Dakota did not have such an ability. And the reports she'd been hearing from her crew made her thankful she didn't have such an ability, either.
In the mere ten minutes, it had been since the death of the Re, and her, Iowa, and Kongo preparing a joint bordering action, the cruiser known as Isabella looked just as poorly on the inside as she did on the outside. Machinery smashed, the lights shattered, and countless other defilements and destruction performed by the now trapped borders. One last act of wanton destruction.
Isabella had spent most of those moments twitching violently in her arms, nearly thrashing in her grasp. But as more and more invaders fell, the less pained her expression became. Though it was still too far from peaceful for comfort.
Still, the fact her crew had started to return was a good sign.
South Dakota winced, as Iowa let out a whistle of impression, while Kongo simply looked amused. She couldn't blame Isabella's crew for being excessive in their desire to take back their ship, but unloading an entire clip into an imp after impaling it on a bayonet was simply a waste of ammunition.
But there was still going to be an issue once they made it back to the Vestal. The numerous plates of Abyssal metal had been welded into her body. Something would have to be done about those before Isabella could be put into a repair bath. Nobody knew what type of effect they would have on her when combined with the repair fluids. They might do nothing.
The risk of them having adverse effects was much too great for them to take, however.
Which meant they were going to have to come off. A process bound to be just as painful as the one that saw them attached.
"Don't," Isabella muttered, far from the first time, head rolling aimlessly. South Dakota wanted to run her fingers through the cruiser's white hair, though she doubted it would bring Isabella any comfort.
However, she would make sure what Isabella feared would never come to pass. She could do that much, at least.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Vulcan was a flurry of activity, even before everyone had returned. Outside of Isabella, which she had already been told would need attention before they could place her in a repair bath, nobody was too horribly wounded.
But the fact they had told her Isabella was a different case entirely was already setting off alarm bells. Even Luzon didn't need her full attention. Physically, at any rate. Psychologically was a completely different story, she could already tell, not that she blamed the small PT boat.
The footfalls of several battleships echoed down the hall, signaling Isabella's arrival.
Vulcan had expected an unconscious patient. Not a cruiser with a dopy, almost drugged up grin on her face, doing her best impression of a boneless cat. Watching South Dakota struggling with a light cruiser in a fight to avoid dropping her was almost amusing if it wasn't so concerning.
Especially given all the black splotch's that a distance almost looked as if they were fused into her body. She didn't need to be told why those needed to go.
"Put her down on the table, and I'll get the medicine," she frowned, moving over towards one of the cabinets. Sure, the light cruiser was loopy and probably wasn't feeling much of anything. But operating while she was asleep would be considerably easier.
Aw, yes, there it was. She was a light cruiser, around a Cleveland class in size and weight. That would mean. One and a half pill dose.
Though South Dakota's movements didn't escape her notice. Based on the numerous rents, dents, and outright punctures in her shields, she'd take a beating of her own out there. Vulcan wasn't too surprised by that, nor the fact she'd still insisted on carrying the light cruiser all the way here. Even if she was doing her best to mask her injuries.
"Can you prop her up for me, please?" Vulcan turned around, as South Dakota did as instructed. With considerably difficult, as Isabella had yet to stop doing her best impression of a boneless cat.
"Isabella?" she started, hoping the light cruiser would respond to her name, even in her current state. Vulcan wasn't above forcing the pills down her patient's throat if that's what needed to be done. But she preferred that it didn't reach that point.
Slowly, Isabella's head turned to face her, actually staying up straight for a moment. Before flopping to the side.
"My name is Vulcan. I need you to say, ah, okay?" Isabella stared at her, the eye's slowly blinking. Great, so she was none responsive.
"Vulcan?" Isabella's head rolled over to the side, chuckling as she went. "Like the Salamanders?" This time, it was Vulcan's turn to blink as her patient continued to giggle and snort as if she had just heard a funny joke of some kind.
Sure, it was something Vulcan had heard a few times before. No, that reference was made far too often, almost to the point.
But how would Isabella, a ship who spent lord only knew how much time behind enemy lines, make that reference? It made absolutely zero sense.
"Vulcan?" South Dakota spoke softly, tilting her head towards the now cackling light cruiser. Well, it wasn't exactly her saying ah, but it would do.
Isabella swallowed the medicine in an instant, before resuming her laughter, which steadily began to taper off.
"Haha, sleep go," Isabella's eye's closed, head falling over, breathing lightly as the medicine took hold.
"Damn, that stuff works fast," Iowa looked impressed, as Vulcan reached for a welding mask.
"Yes, it does," Vulcan reached over towards her equipment. "Thank you for your assistance South Dakota, but it's probably for the best if you hit the baths yourself. This will probably take a while."
"If it's the same to you, I'd rather stay," South Dakota stood up, the battleship seeming to think she could hide her injuries from the smaller repair ship. Behind the welding mask, Vulcan's eye's narrowed.
"South Dakota, I can tell you're injured. You walking around like this isn't going to help anyone," Vulcan snapped, despite the battleship easily reaching up to more than triple her displacement.
"I understand your concern, South Dakota, but she's safe right here, and in good hands, to boot," Iowa stepped in, placing a hand on the older battleship's shoulder. "I'll keep an eye on her until you get back, okay?"
Vulcan watched South Dakota's eyes shift between the three of them, almost moving like a blur.
"I," the battleship breathed deeply. "I understand. Thank you for staying, Iowa." South Dakota made her way to the door, her gaze lingering on the light cruiser for a moment, before heading down the hall.
"Thank you for that," Vulcan sighed. Iowa simply nodded, though the frown of concern didn't escape her notice.
Still, there was work to be done.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Another blackened plate popped off, revealing the puncture wound beneath. Vulcan stopped being surprising after the fifth, honestly. This went beyond torture. This was nothing but cruelty. At this point, she might just have to send in her repair teams now.
Breaking off another offending chunk of Abyssal metal further down Isabella's arm, she noticed something. Carefully, making sure not to further disturb her patient, she lifted her hand at the palm.
And almost instantly regretted it, gagging behind her mask. Vulcan didn't think a finger was meant to bend the way Isabella's was, but she didn't realize it was indicative of her entire hand.
"What? Happened?" she hissed as Iowa made her way over, noticing her reaction.
Isabella's fingers were a knarled mess, and that was simply on a single hand. The other was likely just as bad, though at the moment she wasn't in any rush to check. One of her fingers had been twisted around completely, its twitch the reason Vulcan had even been drawn to the light cruiser's hand.
"We found her jumping an Abyssal destroyer, beating it to death with her bare hands," Iowa didn't seem as disturbed over the matter as Vulcan was. "We don't know if she did it to any others, but I think so."
Vulcan had to agree with Iowa's assumption, but they'd have to know more to be sure. She'd need a damage report from Isabella's crew to be certain about the extent of the damage, of course. But there were a few other factors at play. This easily could the result of multiple collisions with destroyers.
Or it could be Isabella, in likely blind panic and pain, simply wasn't throwing a proper punch, just flailing blindly. That could cause injuries in humans, even broken bones if she recalled correctly. Such might affect the armor after multiple collisions.
Just a hypothesis, but it only made the necessity of having eyes on the inside all the more important.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
"Hey, hey hey hey," their guide managed to weave their way through the throng of people running through the halls. Various crewmembers ran back and forth, carrying guns, ammunition, alongside scraps of metal ranging in size from a dinner plate to a full sheet.
Occasionally, a gunshot would ring out, signaling that another invader that had been hiding in some dark corner had been found and killed. All around them, holes were being patched up and repaired.
"Hey!" another fairy, one in an engineering uniform, waved at a group of sailors that were just about ready to start sealing a minor gash, redirecting them elsewhere.
The closer they got to their destination, the thinner the crowds and repair efforts got. Soon the only other fairies they saw were patrols, squads of fewer than 4, each one armed. Here, the walls of the ship became marred, damage easier to see the further they got from centralized components.
"Hey, hey hey," the fairy paused, jotting down notes as they finally reached the section of the ship they were interested in.
"Hey," entire sections of the hull were crumpled, warped in a manner consistent with collisions. No. Not collisions. Ramming. Just more. More of everything. That was the only explanation. Repeat, numerous, and brutal ramming.
"Hey!" their guide crossed their arms, letting out a huff.
The warping to the hull was extensive. Miraculously, her hull hadn't been torn open, but in some places, it was a near thing.
Sure, this wasn't anything the bath couldn't fix. But that wasn't the entirety of their orders. While the internal damage may confirm Vulcan's hypothesis, they still had been sent to collect the full extent of Isabella's injuries.
Which had been problematic, given that most of the damage team was busy trying to fix the numerous gashes in the hull, alongside the burned damage reports.
If they could see more of the damage, they might be able to get a clearer picture of the mess.
"Hey! HEY!" their guide suddenly shouted, leveling his rifle down the hallway.
It looked like a monster. Its limbs too long. Its teeth too long and too numerous. Its face lacked anything that could be considered eyes. Its mouth opened, letting out a screech that could only be described as unnatural, and charged.
BAM! The gunshot cracked out, reverberating down the hallway as the bullet smashed directly into the imp's skull, sending it plummeting backward.
"Hey, hey hey,"
Yes, returning to the relative safety of the bridge sounded lovely.
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"Iowa, it seems your crew missed a few," Vulcan frowned, already hearing back from the few she had sent in. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the battleship wince.
"Some hid themselves during the fighting. Isabella's crew said they wanted to deal with the remnants," Iowa frowned. Vulcan understood. She could easily see how her crew would react if she had been in the light cruiser's shoes.
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Admiral Richardson rubbed his hands against his forehead. The good news? Isabella and Luzon had been rescued and were now safe, and a second force could be sent to wipe out what's left of the Abyssal presence. The bad news?
Just about everything else. Luzon was already shaping to be a multipronged legal mess. Due in part because Luzon technically served under the United States Army, rather than the Navy. A factor likely compounded by both her service in the Japanese Navy and made considerably more problematic because the in exile Philippine government would certainly make noise about seeing Luzon returned.
And that was without touching on Isabella herself.
He'd already ordered that debriefing wait until she arrived back as Sasebo. An action that only proved to be wiser in hindsight.
Of course, the report he had been given wasn't painting a good picture. Isabella having to be reboarded. Her body covered in Abyssal metal sheets, delaying her from being placed in the repair bathes.
On top of the those above him breathing down his neck trying to figure out how a light cruiser ended up enemy territory in the first place, alongside her current condition. The latter of which he intended to play close to his chest until Richardson had more information. Granted, he desired information about the former as well. Of course, that wasn't the only question he had.
And those questions revolved around the last person Richardson wanted to tell about this. Seattle. How exactly did one tell someone they not only had a sister but that said sister had been captured and tortured by an enemy force?
That was not an easy conversation to have under normal circumstances. The problem was, Seattle shouldn't have a sister. Still, there was a chance the two ships could be different, but that seemed increasingly unlikely. More than a few reports went into Isabella's physical appearance, and he would be lying if he claimed to not see the resemblance.
Which, if she was Seattle's sister, then that raised several questions. Several questions Isabella might not be able to answer.
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It. It felt like I was floating. The relaxing lapping of ocean waves. Soothing.
Then the pain came. Roaring back, screaming through my entire body. Everything felt like fire, wreathing, and bellowing.
Every nerve ending fired in unison, again and again, wracking every inch of my body with agony.
My eyes opened, body jolting upward, gasping.
Steam filled the air. All around me was a wall of steam.
Where? Where was I?
I let out a hiss as my head throbbed. No, I didn't have time for this. I needed to think. I needed to know how I got here.
Okay. I appeared in the Pacific. I headed into the Philippines. I met Luzon shortly thereafter, giving myself the ship name of Isabella. Then.
My head throbbed again. No. I needed to remember! There was a combat operation. A few. Rescuing a downed pilot, the assault on the gun.
The KNIFE as it STABBED, STABBED, STABBED.
Something tore itself from my throat as I gasped, pain flaring up across my body.
What? The Hell? Was that? What was I forgetting? I, I, I needed to run?
Something? Could I run? No? Did I need to run?
There was PAIN and BLOOD and PAIN, but there was a person? A woman?
She picked me up? I think?
My brain throbbed and pulsated, hammering into the sides of my skull, almost intent to crush itself. Or batter its way out, one of the two.
Water lapped against more and more of my body as I sunk back down. I don't think I'm in danger. At the very least, my sense of DREAD and TERROR were gone. Plus, I wasn't going anywhere fast.
Wait? How did I know that? I should have both legs, right?
See, there's one. Everything should be, just, fine…
Not fine. Not fine. Absolutely and completely not fine. My leg. Where was my leg? How? How had it been RIPPED and TORN from my body?
Pain continued to well up, with me biting back a scream as my hands clutched my skull. Make it stop! Make it stop!
Something had come with my hand. Something stirred at my side as if awakening from slumber.
"Isabella?" the voice was familiar. Licking at my inflamed memory.
Slowly, my head began to turn. Two brown orbs stared back at me.
I stared back. Could it be? Could it really be? Her? She's, she's okay? She's alright?
"Luzon?" I couldn't get out the words. She was fine. She was unhurt. Oh, thank goodness. I felt wet heat began to flow down my face. Tears. These were tears.
"Isabella?" her arms began to wrap around me, like thin, tiny wires. But they were warm, and light. Gentle, like a feather. Careful, not to hurt me.
I returned the embrace, not caring how much pain my arms were in. She was safe! She was safe! I pulled her close, clinging to her like a lifeline. She was safe!
And at that moment, that was all that mattered.
I know I said Luzon needed hugs, but not like this dammit.
Fletcher class isn't going to be enough, we need a professional at this point.
Someone get USS Acontius on the line.
"We need a professional" just about describes both of them right now.
Chapter 14
Luzon had gone missing. Again.
Or, as Iowa was swiftly learning meant, Luzon had gone to visit Isabella and didn't bother to tell anyone. Again. And that nobody bothered to start looking in the repair baths. Again.
She wasn't exactly sure why anyone would call it missing at this point, as Luzon spent most of her time down there, anyway. The only time they could get Luzon to leave was to eat, and even that appeared to be with considerable reluctance. She'd even sleep there, as much that concerned Vulcan. Iowa just wondered how Luzon had been able to procure a sleeping bag out of thin air. She didn't think there was any on the Vestal herself, and she doubted Luzon had access to one before.
Still, Isabella was not going to be awake for at least a full day, if not longer. Both from a mixture of the repair bath trying to keep her unconscious due to the pain she'd been in otherwise, and the medicine.
Iowa hoped that once Isabella was properly awake, they would be able to convince Luzon to socialize with the other shipgirls. She also hoped that Isabella wasn't in worse shape than Luzon was. Which was a concern with considerable merit, given the events she went through. Even more so, if her eyes were deceiving her.
She'd been down to visit enough times herself, when South Dakota wasn't present, to notice the numerous cuts and stabs that lined the cruiser's shoulders weren't, well, healing. Iowa scowled. That wasn't wholly correct.
They were healing. Just not correctly. Vulcan suspected they were becoming scars. Shipgirl's having scars was incredibly rare. Scharnhorst was the only one that Iowa could remember off the top of her head that had scars. Nobody was sure why, either. But battle damage?
That healed. That always healed. And for it not to?
Iowa didn't need Vulcan to know that was probably not a good sign. It couldn't be much else.
She let out a sigh, entering the healing bath's through the locker, face covered with steam. Most of the time, when Iowa was here, the room was full of noise. Be it simple talking or just sounds of relaxation. However, the past few times, it had been eir quiet. Sure, several Japanese ships like relaxing in the baths, as they were, for all intents and purposes, hot springs. But that hadn't been the case.
Which was worse, Iowa wasn't quite sure. Heavy, oppressive silence? Or the full-on sobbing.
Wait? Sobbing?
Iowa broke out into a near run, sprinting towards the source, which she knew from memory was the repair bath that Isabella resided in.
Please let everything be okay, please let everything be okay. Already, her fairy's had maned the radio, sending for Vulcan to arrive, immediately! If for no other purpose than to prevent whatever was going on from getting worse. But what could be going wrong! The repair baths were set up to provide alerts in case of an emergency!
Steam still clouded her vision as the crying got louder and louder.
But it wasn't just one voice. There were two?
By the time Iowa had gotten close enough to see, the sight before her was perplexing. Luzon's arms were wrapped around the light cruiser.
And Isabella was hugging Luzon back, rocking gently back and forth.
But Isabella wasn't supposed to be awake yet. Which either meant Vulcan did the math wrong, or something else was afoot. Which was worse, Iowa wasn't sure. But the timer said she still had more than a day left in the bath, as the seconds slowly ticked by.
The splashing took Iowa off guard, as Isabella tried rising out of the water. Her stance was odd, compensating for her missing leg by grabbing hold of one of the railings at the edge of the pool. Made even more awkward by the cruiser, who was still holding onto Luzon, position the bulk of her between smallest ship and Iowa herself.
"Where am I, and who are you?"
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"Where am I, and who are you?" My voice felt raw in my throat. The women, no shipgirl, before me, was truly massive. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and an outfit that made absolutely no reasonable sense. She was an American ship of some description if the leggings were anything to go by.
"My name is Iowa. You are currently on the USS Vestal, en route to Sasebo," the now identified Iowa said. My eyes squinted, trying to make out as much of her hull as possible. She did have three triple turrets.
Which was a common design shared by many different American ships, ranging from cruisers to battleships, so I couldn't identify her based on that information.
Was she lying? My head throbbed. I couldn't tell on that front, either.
But Luzon was safe. She was alive, and that had to account for something.
"Is she?" I didn't get to finish as I felt Luzon's head nod into my shoulder, keeping one eye on the battleship and the other on Luzon herself.
"Have they been treating you well?" there was a pause, then another nod. Good. If they hadn't been. Then. Well, I didn't want to think about what I'd do.
That's when it hit me. Pain, everywhere. I nearly sagged, as what felt like hundreds of knives plunged into my skin. Because I had been STABBED.
Each breath was a short gasp, air trying to rush into my lungs.
"Isabella, sit back down! You aren't fully repaired yet!" I heard Iowa shout over the building pressure in my ears. Luzon's voice joined in, also begging me to sit down. No, I wanted, needed to, no.
Slowly, I sunk back down, water easing the pain. Trying to posture was stupid. Beyond stupid.
Luzon snuggled in closer to my side, and I only just noticed her new clothes. Of course, they weren't going to let her keep wearing rags.
"You've been through a lot. Just rest up, okay?" Iowa said as I breathed deeply, trying to fix my shaky breath. "Vulcan will be here in a few moments."
Vulcan? Who was Vulcan? Based on the name, it was pretty clear they weren't a human. Unless they had the misfortune of being born of volcanology or roman obsessed parents, that wasn't a normal name. So they likely were a shipgirl of some description. But I didn't have the foggiest as to their class.
Probably a repair or supply ship of some description, if I had to make an educated guess. Vulcan didn't sound like an Aircraft Carrier name, nor did it fit the naming scheme of Destroyers, Battleships, or Cruisers. Then again neither was mine, to my knowledge.
"Luzon let's see if we can get you dried up, okay," Iowa offered out her hand. I watched Luzon pause for a moment, before her grip on me tightened up, shaking her head.
"If she wants to stay, she can stay," I offered. It was no big deal. Even if Luzon stayed quiet, her company would be greatly appreciated. And it was fairly clear she didn't want to go, either.
"Are you sure?" Iowa's eyebrow's furrowed. "You do need rest right now."
My eyes narrowed.
"If she wants to stay, she can stay," my hand already moving towards the railing. If I needed to stand up again, I would.
"Okay, okay. I'm just making sure," thankfully, Iowa understood. Because unless Luzon wanted to leave, I wasn't letting her out of my sight.
"Iowa, I got your message, what's going on?" A loud voice made its way through the fog. Red hair poked out from around what could have only been some type of welder's mask, complete with overalls covered in numerous dark stains, with a redshirt underneath.
Yep, definitely some type of repair ship. She flipped up the mask, allowing me to get more of a look at her tanned face.
"Seriously, Iowa, you made it sound like this was an emergency that required my immediate attention," the person I assumed was Vulcan paused, finally noticing me. "Oh, you're awake."
She paused for a moment, staring at me as if I'd grown a second head.
"You're awake!"
"Ow," I groaned, almost letting out a hiss of pain. I didn't need anyone shouting right now. My brain already felt like it was hammering against the insides of my skull. There is no reason to make it any worse.
"Apologies," she frowned as if lost in thought. "It's just that you weren't supposed to wake up until tomorrow, at the earliest."
Wait, until tomorrow? At the earliest? Why? How much longer did I have?
Oh. More than forty-eight hours. That was a considerable length of time to be stuck in a single place. Well, I certainly would have enjoyed the additional sleep time in that case. Hopefully, I could get some more time sleeping, because even with Luzon to keep me company, this would get boring.
"Well, given that you're currently awake, I'd like to ask you a few questions," Vulcan crossed her fingers. "You can feel free to ask some in return."
I paused. That seemed reasonable enough. Doctors did ask questions about their patient's physical health. It was just. My brain throbbed once again. There were just some things I don't think I could answer.
"That works, I suppose," my gaze shifted over to Luzon who had started to remove her face from my side. Honestly, it wouldn't surprise me if she left an imprint of her face there.
"How are you feeling? Are you in any pain or discomfort?" Okay, there were easy questions. "Are there any concerns you might have?"
"Well," I paused for a moment, thinking on how best to put things. "I have a headache. Aches just about everywhere, actually, and it gets worse when I stand up."
I watched as Vulcan jotted down a few notes, before sending a pointed look at Iowa. Iowa shrugged as if saying something along the lines of 'what did you expect me to do'.
"What about concerns?" I would have raised my stump of a leg out of the water. I had started to do so, in fact. But Luzon probably wouldn't take that very well.
"My leg. Is this magic water going to fix that too, or?" I paused. That wasn't a line of thought I wanted to entertain.
"The repair bath will restore your leg. Once that timer hits zero, you'll be back to normal. Physically, anyway," Vulcan let out a sigh, though I had to suppress a scoff. Normal? No, I was most certainly not going back to normal. The fact I was in this body was proof enough of that alone.
"Mentally?" Vulcan's shaking head drew my attention away from my thoughts. "Quite frankly, I won't beat around the bush. The fact you're even talking right now is borderline miraculous. And I'm not just saying that because you should still be asleep right now."
"Why?" I paused, as another flash of pain ran through my skull.
"Sorry, but on that particular front, the Admiral wants us to wait until we arrive at Sasebo," I narrowed my eyes at the repair ship, though her glare was more than enough to match my own. It probably didn't help matters that my mother was a nurse. I was weak to that type of glare. But I still wanted answers. Because trying to remember only made my headache worse.
"Okay, fine. Do you know how long it'll take until we arrive at Sasebo?" I let out a huff, trying to convey that I wasn't entirely happy.
"It'll take a few days. Our return trip will end up being a bit longer," Vulcan stated. "Now, do you have any other questions?"
Yeah, I did. Sure, I couldn't ask the biggest one, but I had a few others.
"Do you have any reading material?" I looked down at Luzon. "Like children's books or something like that? And maybe some towels?"
"I'll see what I can do, though I won't be able to make any promises on those children's books," Iowa nodded, seeming to head towards the door. That was understandable. I doubted there would be any children's books aboard, but it wouldn't hurt to have the option.
"If you need to get ahold of me or anyone else, plus hit the red button on the railing behind you," Vulcan followed suit. "I'll be here as soon as I can."
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Memory loss or memory suppression. Honestly, she was leaning towards the latter option. She'd noticed the brief twitch of pain that went across Isabella's face.
Of course, she hadn't been kidding that Isabella being able to hold a conversation was a miracle all on its own. Even with Luzon's presence, Vulcan had expected a panic attack. But she seemed calm. Standoffish, sure. But that honestly would be expected. Even a more aggressive posture wouldn't be something she blamed Isabella for. Given that she'd waken up in an unknown location, fight or flight would be the two options available to her.
And most shipgirls tended to choose fight over flight.
Though there was an oddity. Not quite a problem, but just something strange. Beyond the scarring, which, as a matter of its concern. Perhaps a bit abnormal that Isabella hadn't noticed them yet.
What had really drawn her attention was the Cruiser's request. Reading material wasn't exactly an uncommon request among longer stays. So much so that they kept a water-proof stockpile on hand. But children's books?
What Isabella sought to do with them was fairly obvious. What wasn't was how she even knew they existed. Sure, many shipgirls could call from the experience of their crew. She'd done so herself when she'd been first summoned, and she was far from the only one. But with unbuilt ships?
Their relationship with their crew was poorly understood, to put it mildly. Mostly because they never actually had one. Sure, they had fairy's, just like every other shipgirl. Vulcan knew she was going to have to look over reports on the matter. She'd seen something somewhere about how it was hypothesized that for unbuilt ships, their fairies were blank slates, much like the vessel they crewed. Another was that they pulled on a possible, hypothetical crew that may have served on the ship.
Which was another mystery on the rapidly growing pile. How did she end up in the middle of the ocean? Why did she wait so long to sound a distress signal? How long at she been out there for? Hell, she'd been able to make a Warhammer reference! How did she know about that if she was summoned in the middle of the ocean?
That last one shouldn't get her as worked up as it was. But its impossibility was aggravating. It made absolutely no sense.
Vulcan let out a sigh, forcing down the frustration until she could release it safely later.
Regardless, there were even more issues at hand. Seattle. That was an issue Vulcan had no problem leaving to Admiral Richardson. She had no clue how Seattle would react to having a younger sister. Likely overjoyed, as many likely would.
Up until it was revealed that her sister had been trapped behind enemy lines for an unknown amount of time, before being tortured. Vulcan knew Seattle had her quirks, and generally was quite happy-go-lucky.
Seattle certainly was more stable than some other unbuilt ships. But there was no way being told that piece of information would go over well. But there were no two ways around it. Seattle was going to need to be told about what had happened. If they were taking Isabella to a different base, then maybe they'd have a bit more time to prepare on that front.
But they were not. Seattle would need to be told before they made landfall.
Of course, that was going to be Admiral Richardson's problem. Not that trying to tell Isabella that she had an older sister would be probably any less troublesome. In all honesty, that would be an easier task. If only as some type of silver lining.
Still, Vulcan would rather they wait until Isabella was physically healed on that front.
She'd certainly be keeping an eye on Isabella, and Luzon as well. Now Vulcan hoped Iowa had some luck.
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Twist, and twist, and twist, darn it! Lost the pattern again! Slowly, I let my trembling fingers slip back into the healing bath once again. Doing a braid seemed to be beyond my abilities. Which was not a surprise.
"You aren't particularly good at this," Luzon stuck out her tongue, splashing lightly as she bent her head back.
"To be fair, I've never done something like this before," I stuck out my tongue as well. I'd get better with practice, once my fingers started cooperating with me. And I would probably get a lot of practice too unless Luzon wanted to cut her hair down to something more manageable.
Which, to be fair wasn't going to be until we reached Japan. At the least. Which meant one way or another, I was going to have to figure out how to do braids. They seemed like an efficient way to manage excessive hair, right?
"Your hair is too short for that," Luzon hummed, before returning to kicking the water. Yeah, shoulder-length was probably a bit too short for such a thing. Even if it was, I probably still wouldn't go for anything fancy. Of course, I probably wouldn't let it get much longer anyway.
But that probably wasn't as important. What was? I suppressed a sigh, letting it die in my throat. Honestly, there was no easy way to have this conversation. There probably never would be an easy way to have such a conversation. However, that didn't change the necessity of having it.
"How are you holding up?" I asked, and the temperature in the room felt like it plummeted. Luzon's lazy kicks came to a stop, as she turned to face me. Her eyes began to water.
Before she buried her head into my chest, knocking the air out of my lungs.
"You left me. Again!" Luzon cried, small body wracked with shakes. "Even after you promised you wouldn't, you did." I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close as she continued to sob.
"I," words began to come from my mouth, but Luzon cut me off.
"Everyone told me you did it to protect me. Everyone told me you did it to keep me safe," Luzon quaked, releasing a wave of new tears. "Why are you so willing to get hurt for me?"
"Luzon, you've gone through enough. You've gone through more than enough," I paused for a moment.
"But you got hurt. You got captured! You could have gotten killed," Luzon's voice faded into a whisper. "And then I would have been all alone again." Her arms squeezed me with even more intensity.
"It wasn't going to kill me," I felt Luzon's face look upward. "It could have. God knows it easily had dozens of chances to kill me. But it was never going to."
Each scar, each twist of the knife, each cut, began to flare with pain.
"And I knew that," my eyes shifted away, breaking contact with Luzon's own. Her grip on me only increased, however. "I figured it wouldn't matter. You'd be safe, out of harm's way."
"But, you got hurt! You got hurt worse than I did!" I paused, gaze shifting back to Luzon, her eyes full of tears. "I can see it! Whenever you try to think about it! Even just now!"
"You shouldn't get hurt for me. Not like that," Luzon sniffled, before burying her head into my chest once more.
When Iowa finally returned, she found us locked in our embrace.
Or, as Iowa was swiftly learning meant, Luzon had gone to visit Isabella and didn't bother to tell anyone. Again. And that nobody bothered to start looking in the repair baths. Again.
She wasn't exactly sure why anyone would call it missing at this point, as Luzon spent most of her time down there, anyway. The only time they could get Luzon to leave was to eat, and even that appeared to be with considerable reluctance. She'd even sleep there, as much that concerned Vulcan. Iowa just wondered how Luzon had been able to procure a sleeping bag out of thin air. She didn't think there was any on the Vestal herself, and she doubted Luzon had access to one before.
Still, Isabella was not going to be awake for at least a full day, if not longer. Both from a mixture of the repair bath trying to keep her unconscious due to the pain she'd been in otherwise, and the medicine.
Iowa hoped that once Isabella was properly awake, they would be able to convince Luzon to socialize with the other shipgirls. She also hoped that Isabella wasn't in worse shape than Luzon was. Which was a concern with considerable merit, given the events she went through. Even more so, if her eyes were deceiving her.
She'd been down to visit enough times herself, when South Dakota wasn't present, to notice the numerous cuts and stabs that lined the cruiser's shoulders weren't, well, healing. Iowa scowled. That wasn't wholly correct.
They were healing. Just not correctly. Vulcan suspected they were becoming scars. Shipgirl's having scars was incredibly rare. Scharnhorst was the only one that Iowa could remember off the top of her head that had scars. Nobody was sure why, either. But battle damage?
That healed. That always healed. And for it not to?
Iowa didn't need Vulcan to know that was probably not a good sign. It couldn't be much else.
She let out a sigh, entering the healing bath's through the locker, face covered with steam. Most of the time, when Iowa was here, the room was full of noise. Be it simple talking or just sounds of relaxation. However, the past few times, it had been eir quiet. Sure, several Japanese ships like relaxing in the baths, as they were, for all intents and purposes, hot springs. But that hadn't been the case.
Which was worse, Iowa wasn't quite sure. Heavy, oppressive silence? Or the full-on sobbing.
Wait? Sobbing?
Iowa broke out into a near run, sprinting towards the source, which she knew from memory was the repair bath that Isabella resided in.
Please let everything be okay, please let everything be okay. Already, her fairy's had maned the radio, sending for Vulcan to arrive, immediately! If for no other purpose than to prevent whatever was going on from getting worse. But what could be going wrong! The repair baths were set up to provide alerts in case of an emergency!
Steam still clouded her vision as the crying got louder and louder.
But it wasn't just one voice. There were two?
By the time Iowa had gotten close enough to see, the sight before her was perplexing. Luzon's arms were wrapped around the light cruiser.
And Isabella was hugging Luzon back, rocking gently back and forth.
But Isabella wasn't supposed to be awake yet. Which either meant Vulcan did the math wrong, or something else was afoot. Which was worse, Iowa wasn't sure. But the timer said she still had more than a day left in the bath, as the seconds slowly ticked by.
The splashing took Iowa off guard, as Isabella tried rising out of the water. Her stance was odd, compensating for her missing leg by grabbing hold of one of the railings at the edge of the pool. Made even more awkward by the cruiser, who was still holding onto Luzon, position the bulk of her between smallest ship and Iowa herself.
"Where am I, and who are you?"
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"Where am I, and who are you?" My voice felt raw in my throat. The women, no shipgirl, before me, was truly massive. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and an outfit that made absolutely no reasonable sense. She was an American ship of some description if the leggings were anything to go by.
"My name is Iowa. You are currently on the USS Vestal, en route to Sasebo," the now identified Iowa said. My eyes squinted, trying to make out as much of her hull as possible. She did have three triple turrets.
Which was a common design shared by many different American ships, ranging from cruisers to battleships, so I couldn't identify her based on that information.
Was she lying? My head throbbed. I couldn't tell on that front, either.
But Luzon was safe. She was alive, and that had to account for something.
"Is she?" I didn't get to finish as I felt Luzon's head nod into my shoulder, keeping one eye on the battleship and the other on Luzon herself.
"Have they been treating you well?" there was a pause, then another nod. Good. If they hadn't been. Then. Well, I didn't want to think about what I'd do.
That's when it hit me. Pain, everywhere. I nearly sagged, as what felt like hundreds of knives plunged into my skin. Because I had been STABBED.
Each breath was a short gasp, air trying to rush into my lungs.
"Isabella, sit back down! You aren't fully repaired yet!" I heard Iowa shout over the building pressure in my ears. Luzon's voice joined in, also begging me to sit down. No, I wanted, needed to, no.
Slowly, I sunk back down, water easing the pain. Trying to posture was stupid. Beyond stupid.
Luzon snuggled in closer to my side, and I only just noticed her new clothes. Of course, they weren't going to let her keep wearing rags.
"You've been through a lot. Just rest up, okay?" Iowa said as I breathed deeply, trying to fix my shaky breath. "Vulcan will be here in a few moments."
Vulcan? Who was Vulcan? Based on the name, it was pretty clear they weren't a human. Unless they had the misfortune of being born of volcanology or roman obsessed parents, that wasn't a normal name. So they likely were a shipgirl of some description. But I didn't have the foggiest as to their class.
Probably a repair or supply ship of some description, if I had to make an educated guess. Vulcan didn't sound like an Aircraft Carrier name, nor did it fit the naming scheme of Destroyers, Battleships, or Cruisers. Then again neither was mine, to my knowledge.
"Luzon let's see if we can get you dried up, okay," Iowa offered out her hand. I watched Luzon pause for a moment, before her grip on me tightened up, shaking her head.
"If she wants to stay, she can stay," I offered. It was no big deal. Even if Luzon stayed quiet, her company would be greatly appreciated. And it was fairly clear she didn't want to go, either.
"Are you sure?" Iowa's eyebrow's furrowed. "You do need rest right now."
My eyes narrowed.
"If she wants to stay, she can stay," my hand already moving towards the railing. If I needed to stand up again, I would.
"Okay, okay. I'm just making sure," thankfully, Iowa understood. Because unless Luzon wanted to leave, I wasn't letting her out of my sight.
"Iowa, I got your message, what's going on?" A loud voice made its way through the fog. Red hair poked out from around what could have only been some type of welder's mask, complete with overalls covered in numerous dark stains, with a redshirt underneath.
Yep, definitely some type of repair ship. She flipped up the mask, allowing me to get more of a look at her tanned face.
"Seriously, Iowa, you made it sound like this was an emergency that required my immediate attention," the person I assumed was Vulcan paused, finally noticing me. "Oh, you're awake."
She paused for a moment, staring at me as if I'd grown a second head.
"You're awake!"
"Ow," I groaned, almost letting out a hiss of pain. I didn't need anyone shouting right now. My brain already felt like it was hammering against the insides of my skull. There is no reason to make it any worse.
"Apologies," she frowned as if lost in thought. "It's just that you weren't supposed to wake up until tomorrow, at the earliest."
Wait, until tomorrow? At the earliest? Why? How much longer did I have?
Oh. More than forty-eight hours. That was a considerable length of time to be stuck in a single place. Well, I certainly would have enjoyed the additional sleep time in that case. Hopefully, I could get some more time sleeping, because even with Luzon to keep me company, this would get boring.
"Well, given that you're currently awake, I'd like to ask you a few questions," Vulcan crossed her fingers. "You can feel free to ask some in return."
I paused. That seemed reasonable enough. Doctors did ask questions about their patient's physical health. It was just. My brain throbbed once again. There were just some things I don't think I could answer.
"That works, I suppose," my gaze shifted over to Luzon who had started to remove her face from my side. Honestly, it wouldn't surprise me if she left an imprint of her face there.
"How are you feeling? Are you in any pain or discomfort?" Okay, there were easy questions. "Are there any concerns you might have?"
"Well," I paused for a moment, thinking on how best to put things. "I have a headache. Aches just about everywhere, actually, and it gets worse when I stand up."
I watched as Vulcan jotted down a few notes, before sending a pointed look at Iowa. Iowa shrugged as if saying something along the lines of 'what did you expect me to do'.
"What about concerns?" I would have raised my stump of a leg out of the water. I had started to do so, in fact. But Luzon probably wouldn't take that very well.
"My leg. Is this magic water going to fix that too, or?" I paused. That wasn't a line of thought I wanted to entertain.
"The repair bath will restore your leg. Once that timer hits zero, you'll be back to normal. Physically, anyway," Vulcan let out a sigh, though I had to suppress a scoff. Normal? No, I was most certainly not going back to normal. The fact I was in this body was proof enough of that alone.
"Mentally?" Vulcan's shaking head drew my attention away from my thoughts. "Quite frankly, I won't beat around the bush. The fact you're even talking right now is borderline miraculous. And I'm not just saying that because you should still be asleep right now."
"Why?" I paused, as another flash of pain ran through my skull.
"Sorry, but on that particular front, the Admiral wants us to wait until we arrive at Sasebo," I narrowed my eyes at the repair ship, though her glare was more than enough to match my own. It probably didn't help matters that my mother was a nurse. I was weak to that type of glare. But I still wanted answers. Because trying to remember only made my headache worse.
"Okay, fine. Do you know how long it'll take until we arrive at Sasebo?" I let out a huff, trying to convey that I wasn't entirely happy.
"It'll take a few days. Our return trip will end up being a bit longer," Vulcan stated. "Now, do you have any other questions?"
Yeah, I did. Sure, I couldn't ask the biggest one, but I had a few others.
"Do you have any reading material?" I looked down at Luzon. "Like children's books or something like that? And maybe some towels?"
"I'll see what I can do, though I won't be able to make any promises on those children's books," Iowa nodded, seeming to head towards the door. That was understandable. I doubted there would be any children's books aboard, but it wouldn't hurt to have the option.
"If you need to get ahold of me or anyone else, plus hit the red button on the railing behind you," Vulcan followed suit. "I'll be here as soon as I can."
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Memory loss or memory suppression. Honestly, she was leaning towards the latter option. She'd noticed the brief twitch of pain that went across Isabella's face.
Of course, she hadn't been kidding that Isabella being able to hold a conversation was a miracle all on its own. Even with Luzon's presence, Vulcan had expected a panic attack. But she seemed calm. Standoffish, sure. But that honestly would be expected. Even a more aggressive posture wouldn't be something she blamed Isabella for. Given that she'd waken up in an unknown location, fight or flight would be the two options available to her.
And most shipgirls tended to choose fight over flight.
Though there was an oddity. Not quite a problem, but just something strange. Beyond the scarring, which, as a matter of its concern. Perhaps a bit abnormal that Isabella hadn't noticed them yet.
What had really drawn her attention was the Cruiser's request. Reading material wasn't exactly an uncommon request among longer stays. So much so that they kept a water-proof stockpile on hand. But children's books?
What Isabella sought to do with them was fairly obvious. What wasn't was how she even knew they existed. Sure, many shipgirls could call from the experience of their crew. She'd done so herself when she'd been first summoned, and she was far from the only one. But with unbuilt ships?
Their relationship with their crew was poorly understood, to put it mildly. Mostly because they never actually had one. Sure, they had fairy's, just like every other shipgirl. Vulcan knew she was going to have to look over reports on the matter. She'd seen something somewhere about how it was hypothesized that for unbuilt ships, their fairies were blank slates, much like the vessel they crewed. Another was that they pulled on a possible, hypothetical crew that may have served on the ship.
Which was another mystery on the rapidly growing pile. How did she end up in the middle of the ocean? Why did she wait so long to sound a distress signal? How long at she been out there for? Hell, she'd been able to make a Warhammer reference! How did she know about that if she was summoned in the middle of the ocean?
That last one shouldn't get her as worked up as it was. But its impossibility was aggravating. It made absolutely no sense.
Vulcan let out a sigh, forcing down the frustration until she could release it safely later.
Regardless, there were even more issues at hand. Seattle. That was an issue Vulcan had no problem leaving to Admiral Richardson. She had no clue how Seattle would react to having a younger sister. Likely overjoyed, as many likely would.
Up until it was revealed that her sister had been trapped behind enemy lines for an unknown amount of time, before being tortured. Vulcan knew Seattle had her quirks, and generally was quite happy-go-lucky.
Seattle certainly was more stable than some other unbuilt ships. But there was no way being told that piece of information would go over well. But there were no two ways around it. Seattle was going to need to be told about what had happened. If they were taking Isabella to a different base, then maybe they'd have a bit more time to prepare on that front.
But they were not. Seattle would need to be told before they made landfall.
Of course, that was going to be Admiral Richardson's problem. Not that trying to tell Isabella that she had an older sister would be probably any less troublesome. In all honesty, that would be an easier task. If only as some type of silver lining.
Still, Vulcan would rather they wait until Isabella was physically healed on that front.
She'd certainly be keeping an eye on Isabella, and Luzon as well. Now Vulcan hoped Iowa had some luck.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Twist, and twist, and twist, darn it! Lost the pattern again! Slowly, I let my trembling fingers slip back into the healing bath once again. Doing a braid seemed to be beyond my abilities. Which was not a surprise.
"You aren't particularly good at this," Luzon stuck out her tongue, splashing lightly as she bent her head back.
"To be fair, I've never done something like this before," I stuck out my tongue as well. I'd get better with practice, once my fingers started cooperating with me. And I would probably get a lot of practice too unless Luzon wanted to cut her hair down to something more manageable.
Which, to be fair wasn't going to be until we reached Japan. At the least. Which meant one way or another, I was going to have to figure out how to do braids. They seemed like an efficient way to manage excessive hair, right?
"Your hair is too short for that," Luzon hummed, before returning to kicking the water. Yeah, shoulder-length was probably a bit too short for such a thing. Even if it was, I probably still wouldn't go for anything fancy. Of course, I probably wouldn't let it get much longer anyway.
But that probably wasn't as important. What was? I suppressed a sigh, letting it die in my throat. Honestly, there was no easy way to have this conversation. There probably never would be an easy way to have such a conversation. However, that didn't change the necessity of having it.
"How are you holding up?" I asked, and the temperature in the room felt like it plummeted. Luzon's lazy kicks came to a stop, as she turned to face me. Her eyes began to water.
Before she buried her head into my chest, knocking the air out of my lungs.
"You left me. Again!" Luzon cried, small body wracked with shakes. "Even after you promised you wouldn't, you did." I wrapped my arms around her, holding her close as she continued to sob.
"I," words began to come from my mouth, but Luzon cut me off.
"Everyone told me you did it to protect me. Everyone told me you did it to keep me safe," Luzon quaked, releasing a wave of new tears. "Why are you so willing to get hurt for me?"
"Luzon, you've gone through enough. You've gone through more than enough," I paused for a moment.
"But you got hurt. You got captured! You could have gotten killed," Luzon's voice faded into a whisper. "And then I would have been all alone again." Her arms squeezed me with even more intensity.
"It wasn't going to kill me," I felt Luzon's face look upward. "It could have. God knows it easily had dozens of chances to kill me. But it was never going to."
Each scar, each twist of the knife, each cut, began to flare with pain.
"And I knew that," my eyes shifted away, breaking contact with Luzon's own. Her grip on me only increased, however. "I figured it wouldn't matter. You'd be safe, out of harm's way."
"But, you got hurt! You got hurt worse than I did!" I paused, gaze shifting back to Luzon, her eyes full of tears. "I can see it! Whenever you try to think about it! Even just now!"
"You shouldn't get hurt for me. Not like that," Luzon sniffled, before burying her head into my chest once more.
When Iowa finally returned, she found us locked in our embrace.
- Location
- Home
these two are just a happy little bundle of issues. looking forward to the encroaching fireworks
Chapter 15
"Twinkle twinkle little star. How I wonder what you are. Up above the world so high. Like a diamond in the sky. Twinkle twinkle little star. How I wonder what you are."
How long had it been since I last heard that lullaby? More than a decade, probably getting closer to two than one. Probably once my bother stopped listening to it was around the same time I did too. Basically, I really freaking hoped I wasn't butchering the lyrics on this one.
Though, would Luzon know the lyrics of an American lullaby? Wait, was Twinkle Twinkle Light Star an American lullaby in the first place? And why am I asking myself questions I don't have the answer to?
"I'm, I'm not," she cut herself off, letting loose a massive yawn, stretching out her limbs. "Tired." As if I didn't just hear her yawn in the first place. If the time on the clock was anything to go by, she should probably be in bed by now.
"Luzon, if you need to go to sleep, all you need to do is say so," Luzon turned her head back to face me, only to keep going, lightly tapping against my chest, before jolting forward.
"I'm awake, I'm awake!"
I chuckled, shaking my head. Yeah, it was pretty clear it was time for her to go to bed. Sure, having her rest in the pool was probably safe. I'd been out for at least a few days, from what I could gather, and likely would have been out for another. Lacking any wrinkles was a bit of a surprise. But seeing as I was still healing, or as Iowa put it, 'under repair', and Luzon was probably well past the point of being in perfect physical condition by now.
She better be, at any rate.
But I knew human skin did not have a pleasant reaction to being in water long term. Infections and sores? No thank you!
"You need to sleep. I'll dry you off," I extended my hand, reaching towards one of the towels left on the rack behind me.
"No! Stay!" Luzon's arms wrapped around me before her grip slackened. For a few moments, it seemed like sleep had finally taken her, but her grip tightened once again. "Stay!"
"I'd love it if you stayed, Luzon, but I don't want you looking like a raisin come morning," I chuckled, fingers grasping the towel. Was this wait I sounded like when I wanted to stay up late on a school night?
"What's a raisin?" she asked, stifling another yawn as I ran the towel through her hair.
"It's a dried-out grape," there was probably a more complicated process than that, though I'm pretty sure that was the basic idea behind it.
"Why would I look like a dried-out grape if I stayed in the water?" well, at least she wasn't protesting as much as I thought she would. Though, Luzon could simply just be that tried, which wouldn't surprise me.
Luzon curled up in her sleeping bag, muttering faint sounds I couldn't understand, but were adorable anyway before the gentle sound of her breathing took over.
However, I wasn't going to join her in dreamland. Probably couldn't, my track record of sleeping on a moving vehicle was likely going to try and make up for lost time. What Iowa had brought me was exactly what I'd expected, and while I hadn't been lying about wanting something to read to Luzon, there was a lot more that was looking for.
Did I need the additional stress? Probably not. Did I need information? Absolutely.
Even a children's book would have provided something of use, depending on how close to the modern date it was printed in. Whatever that modern date happened to be.
That could be said for just about anything really, but hopefully, the stack of magazines she'd brought me would at least approximate exactly how long this war had been going on, alongside the date and year.
From there? I wasn't sure. Which was exactly why I needed to find out more information about what was going on.
Slowly, and quietly, making sure not to disturb Luzon during her much-needed sleep, I flipped through the pile, looking for anything on shipgirls, mostly based on the cover.
I swiftly realized that all of them seemed to have shipgirl related stuff. Okay, that probably shouldn't be too surprising. Shipgirls would be popular, for various reasons. Alright then, let's start at the top.
Skimming my why through with an eye out for any number that looked like part of a date. When did Abyssal's show up? When did shipgirl's show up? Last I remembered, it was 2020. During September. Go to sleep and boom, wake up in the middle of the ocean. Something like that just didn't happen without good reason.
Did I end up in the future? Some alternate reality? Quite frankly, there was going to be nothing I could do to disprove the later. Okay, maybe there was. I would just need an electronic device that I had no way of accessing right now. The prior would be a bit more straightforward, hence the dates.
Frowning, I continued to look over the articles, not finding much luck. I hope I wasn't missing something, as the last time I'd read a magazine proper was years before this all started. Okay, here's the article that the cover referenced. Iowa, and some person handing her medal? First United States Navy Battleship summoned?
Yadda, yadda, the first battleship returned. Momentous occasion. Important for the future of the country and the world at large. All nice, informative stuff, but I needed dates! Dates! They had to be somewhere in here, right?
I was, already getting frustrated with this. Not a good sign. Letting the magazine rest on my face, I leaned back with a sigh. Honestly, I probably needed more rest of my own. Even if I had been in a medical and pain-induced coma.
God, I'd been in a coma. That's a sobering thought. Yeah, that's the surface of it! I've lost a limb, and I'm somehow growing it back right now because that's apparently a thing now! I'd gone through, well, whatever it was with that thing, and I wasn't going to try and push why I was drawing a blank, giving the last headache. Then there was everything before that!
And how long had it been? A few weeks? A month? More? My fairies burned the logs they'd been keeping, and quite frankly, I didn't trust my own memory-keeping of time, even under the best days. But right now?
I just didn't know. Not knowing? That was scary.
I'd been fighting a war. I wasn't a soldier. But I'd been fighting anyway.
What was my life becoming? I hadn't wanted anything like this. I certainly wasn't cut out for this sort of thing. The fact I made it this far was more due to blind luck than anything else. Maybe not even that.
Seriously, I needed to start getting this sorted out. Where did I want to go from here? Did I have a choice? Was I going to be strong-armed in the military?
I mean, the Absyssal's staying around was something I certainly didn't want. My eyes flickered over to Luzon. They needed to be thrown back into the pit from whence they came for what they did to her. And to me. And probably to the world's population at large.
But what could I do? I was one light cruiser out of how many? That's not even going into my complete lack of training and absolute minimal experience. And calling in minimal felt generous, given how it was probably the naval tactical equivalent of smacking my face into a keyboard.
Sure, training was something that could be worked on. I doubt they'd be incompetent enough to send someone without training into the thick of things. But? I don't know. Was joining up with the navy something I wanted to do?
Of course, that was while ignoring, quite frankly, quite a large issue. One I had conveniently thrown into a closet and ignored for the sake of survival. It was nice to be able to ignore it while I was fighting for my life because I certainly didn't have that luxury now!
My eyes gazed down at my chest, before flicking away.
Yeah, I'm not getting used to that. This was something I just had no idea what to do with. I should be dysmorphic to hell and back right now. I really should be freaking out more about this than I had been. Sure, I cried my eyes out when I first saw my reflection in the mirror. But that was, shock? Surprise? A bit of a mental breakdown? The full weight of my current situation hitting me? But I don't think it was dysmorphia.
That? That was creepy. No, that was freaky. I should be having a complete and utter panic attack about this! There was no reason I should be this calm. A bit weird? Yes. Feeling a bit off? Yes.
But I didn't feel wrong. And that fact I wasn't?
Was setting off the alarm bells in my logical mind, because I knew enough to know I should. Which was a whole nothing can of worms that I could probably never bring up ever because it'd make me seem crazy. Well, crazier than I probably already was.
Quite frankly, the fact I was drawing a memory blank wasn't a good sign either. Even more so with all the pain when I did try to think about it.
Where was I going with this? I wasn't sure. Probably something about giving a Therapist a need for a pay raise sometime soon. Multiple, actually, now that I think about it, as Luzon certainly needed therapy of her own, and I wasn't going to take no for an answer on that front.
Anyway, if I was going to get some sleep, it was probably time to get my brain shut off. Hopefully, reading would help my gears slow down because I couldn't rely on utter exhaustion right now.
Let's actually give this a read, then. I paused for a moment, looking at the cover, my eyes drawn towards the top of the page.
12/13/2021
No. That's. Crap.
The last day I remembered before I woke up here was August. August in the year 2020.
That meant more than a year had passed.
Please. Don't let it be real. I don't want to cry anymore.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
I woke up to a splash, water suddenly ending up all over my face. Goody, I managed to fall asleep after all. When was that?
Luzon let out a giggle as she surfaced, enjoying herself in the warm bath. Did she just cannonball on in here? The water couldn't be deep enough for someone to do that safely? Right?
"You better have gotten something to eat before you jumped on in here," I chuckled, ruffling her hair.
"I did," Luzon beamed up at me. The rumble of her stomach told me she was lying. My eyebrow raised, almost amused. Though she certainly needed to eat, however. Unlike to be growing fast at all, I doubt she was getting a lot of nutrition back in the Philippines in the first place. Shipgirls tended to eat quite a bit, even destroyers. Luzon was likely no expectation to that rule.
"Luzon," I crossed my arms, trying to my best impression of my own mother. "You need to be eating."
"I have been," she huffed, face turning into a pout.
"We've been giving her the same amount of food she needs. Even if she's a bit of a picky eater," the new voice just about made me jump out of my skin, arms going from crossed in parental disapproval to surprised flailing.
"Please, don't surprise me like that," I lowered my arms as my breathing began to steady. She was a battleship, I think. Same triple guns as Iowa. Those had no right to claim anything approaching stealth like that. How long had she been sitting there? Minutes? Hours?
"Sorry. I didn't mean to alarm you," she looked down at me, giving me a strange look. One that made me want to sink into the water. Though Luzon was already doing that, avoiding the battleship's gaze as she slowly made her way over to me.
"I'll be fine. Surprises are something I generally don't take well," I huffed, voice nearly reaching a mutter. She wasn't lying, or at the very least, I don't think she was.
"I'll keep that in mind for the future," she paused for a moment. "Probably send word to the Admiral is well on that front. I know for a fact a ship back at Sasebo will certainly be trying to throw you a party. Probably several. In rapid succession.
Well. That was. Alarming? Concerning? I certainly would understand why someone would do that, don't get me wrong. But parties, especially large scale, which a military base would most certainly be?
I don't know. Luzon probably wouldn't be up for it, if her current interactions with other people were anything to go by. And I certainly wasn't a social butterfly even under the best of times. Not showing up, on the other hand, was simply just rude. Given the work that probably would be put into it, exceptionally rude at that.
"Thanks for the heads up," I nodded, before frowning slightly. I had no idea who this person was. They seemed familiar, but I just couldn't quite place it. Did I even have a name to put on their face? I, I don't think I did.
"You don't remember me? Luzon's arms wrapped around my stomach once again as the battleship spoke.
"Sorry. I really don't," I paused, trying to push into my memories, though I backed off the moment pain began to flare in my temple.
"It's okay. Vulcan said she expected you were suffering from memory loss," she looked away for a moment, seeming to make sure I couldn't see something. Memory loss though? That certainly made sense. It would explain, well, what I've been dealing with whenever I try to force myself to remember.
"Either way, I was here to check up on you and your progress. And get Luzon something to eat, of course," Luzon immediately began to bury further into my side. "Which, as I can see, is going to be unlikely."
On one hand, Luzon certainly didn't want to leave, and I doubt anything less than a crowbar was going to unlodge her from her current position. Nor was separation likely to really do anything in the long term. As much as I didn't want her to go hungry, Luzon's mental health had to also be considered.
"If she wants to wait, she can wait. I'd ask if you could just bring her food, but there's probably a rule about that somewhere," I frowned. Hopefully, this was the right call to make. Six more hours wasn't going to be that detrimental. Right?
"Unfortunately, yes. Due to several incidents, food isn't allowed in the baths as a precaution," well, the whole multiple incidents part was interesting. Probably a funny story behind it, too. Still, they'd have to be pretty bad if they banned food because of it.
"Though it'll probably take a bit more than six hours before you two would get something to eat."
"Oh? Really? Why is that?" I looked up, somewhat confused at the battleship. What was that supposed to mean?
"The second reason I'm here is that Vulcan wants to run a diagnostic once you're completely patched up. Mostly as a precaution against anything that may have been missed," okay, that made sense. I'd taken a considerable beating, so of course, they want to make sure everything is physically in order before turning me even somewhat loose.
Luzon's stomach let out another rumble, this one stronger than the last. She shifted slightly in the water. Probably her stomach protesting under the fact it would be even longer than Luzon had anticipated before she ate. Was that going to be enough to convince her to get something to eat?
Oh, who am I kidding, she was already clinging back into me by the time the battleship began to raise her eyebrow.
"Well, that was worth a shot. I'll try to find you a change of clothes, given how, you know," she paused as if trying to think of something. Honestly, if so much of a scrap of my old outfit was intact, I'd be impressed. It was a disaster before I got to the Philippines, and after? Honestly, it should be pitched into a fire, if only to save me the embarrassment of seeing what I'd been running around in.
She simply nodded, before standing up to leave.
"Wait," she paused at the sound of my voice, turning around. There was something she mentioned at the start of the conversation. Should have gotten it clarified back then, but I've only just remembered it.
"You mentioned something about Luzon being a picky eater. Can you tell me what that entails, exactly?" Luzon made a squeak, burying herself further into my side. Honestly? I was a pretty picky eater myself. Even if me now being a ship has gone a considerable way into rectifying that issue. Just more than two decades late by my parent's standards. Mom would be pulling her hair out over this, I could already tell.
"We've mostly been having a hard time getting her to eat just about anything. Pineapples are just about the only thing we can get her to eat, and we have been spreading them into other recipes, but there is a limit," I looked down at Luzon, whose head was currently doing its best to reshape my ribs.
That was. Yeah, no. Not going to fly. Absolutely not. I'm not sure how many recipes you could put pineapples into, but certainly, they wouldn't provide Luzon's dietary needs. And as much as she deserved to be pampered, that didn't mean I was okay with potentially taking up the entire ship's supply. The people that saved us deserved pineapples too. If they liked pineapples, anyway.
"I'll think of something," I paused for a moment. I'd practiced a bit of cooking when preparing to set off on my own. Pandemic made the job hunt to facilitate that difficult, however. But I had a few recipients up my sleeve. Most of them were simple. Scrambled eggs. Bacon. Pancakes. Those sorts of things.
But she was already having too much of the latter, and as for the two former? This was a military vessel. They should have both in spades. Right?
I'd have to take stock of ingredients. And maybe consult some type of recipe book. Lasagna probably wasn't the most complex recipe in the world, even if I was working off half-remembered knowledge. Noodles. Cheese. Pasta sauce. There was supposed to be some type of filling? Like with manicotti? Sour cream, I think.
That's why I needed to get my hands on a recipe book. I wanted, no, needed to get this right. In part because getting it wrong likely wasn't going to help Luzon's pickiness. Honestly? It would probably make it worse. Though cooking lasagna from scratch was going to take even more time after the medical checkup.
"I'm sure you will," the battleship hummed for a moment. "Though I do have to ask if you know how to cook."
Strange. For a moment, I thought I saw her shudder. What was that about?
"Enough. I'm not going to give someone food poisoning or light myself on fire if that's what you're worried about," something told me that wasn't at all what she was worried about.
"I'll notify the kitchen staff, regardless. Just as a safety precaution," she frowned. "I'll return once I've finished if you like."
Part of me wanted to take her up on that offer. Having someone to talk to was, well, nice. But, if Luzon was going to be like this? She was going to have to get acclimated to others eventually. But pushing it just seemed like a bad idea.
"Thank you for your offer, but I don't think Luzon will take visitors very well," she snuggled further into my rib cage, but her grip loosened.
"Understandable. I'll leave the change of clothes in the locker room, and send an escort so you can get to Vulcan's office without getting lost if I'm not available to do so," the battleship rose, pulling herself up to slightly shorter than Iowa.
"Thank you," I nodded pausing as she headed towards the door. Wait. Had I not gotten her name throughout that whole conversation? Not even once?
"Thank you, South Dakota."
I think that's what Luzon said. I wasn't quite sure, with most of her face still remaining lodged in my ribs. It was nice to have a name to put to the face, but that still didn't explain why she felt familiar.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
"She's really bad at this," Kongo peaked through the door, letting the snippets of conversation filter in through the door.
"Nee-san, South Dakota's going to notice. We should probably wait until someone has time to tell her the war is over. Or at the very least, wait until she's out of the baths," Hiei couldn't deny she was curious about Isabella. It was probably for the best that she be told about the war's end, after all.
"We could tell her ourselves."
How long had it been since I last heard that lullaby? More than a decade, probably getting closer to two than one. Probably once my bother stopped listening to it was around the same time I did too. Basically, I really freaking hoped I wasn't butchering the lyrics on this one.
Though, would Luzon know the lyrics of an American lullaby? Wait, was Twinkle Twinkle Light Star an American lullaby in the first place? And why am I asking myself questions I don't have the answer to?
"I'm, I'm not," she cut herself off, letting loose a massive yawn, stretching out her limbs. "Tired." As if I didn't just hear her yawn in the first place. If the time on the clock was anything to go by, she should probably be in bed by now.
"Luzon, if you need to go to sleep, all you need to do is say so," Luzon turned her head back to face me, only to keep going, lightly tapping against my chest, before jolting forward.
"I'm awake, I'm awake!"
I chuckled, shaking my head. Yeah, it was pretty clear it was time for her to go to bed. Sure, having her rest in the pool was probably safe. I'd been out for at least a few days, from what I could gather, and likely would have been out for another. Lacking any wrinkles was a bit of a surprise. But seeing as I was still healing, or as Iowa put it, 'under repair', and Luzon was probably well past the point of being in perfect physical condition by now.
She better be, at any rate.
But I knew human skin did not have a pleasant reaction to being in water long term. Infections and sores? No thank you!
"You need to sleep. I'll dry you off," I extended my hand, reaching towards one of the towels left on the rack behind me.
"No! Stay!" Luzon's arms wrapped around me before her grip slackened. For a few moments, it seemed like sleep had finally taken her, but her grip tightened once again. "Stay!"
"I'd love it if you stayed, Luzon, but I don't want you looking like a raisin come morning," I chuckled, fingers grasping the towel. Was this wait I sounded like when I wanted to stay up late on a school night?
"What's a raisin?" she asked, stifling another yawn as I ran the towel through her hair.
"It's a dried-out grape," there was probably a more complicated process than that, though I'm pretty sure that was the basic idea behind it.
"Why would I look like a dried-out grape if I stayed in the water?" well, at least she wasn't protesting as much as I thought she would. Though, Luzon could simply just be that tried, which wouldn't surprise me.
Luzon curled up in her sleeping bag, muttering faint sounds I couldn't understand, but were adorable anyway before the gentle sound of her breathing took over.
However, I wasn't going to join her in dreamland. Probably couldn't, my track record of sleeping on a moving vehicle was likely going to try and make up for lost time. What Iowa had brought me was exactly what I'd expected, and while I hadn't been lying about wanting something to read to Luzon, there was a lot more that was looking for.
Did I need the additional stress? Probably not. Did I need information? Absolutely.
Even a children's book would have provided something of use, depending on how close to the modern date it was printed in. Whatever that modern date happened to be.
That could be said for just about anything really, but hopefully, the stack of magazines she'd brought me would at least approximate exactly how long this war had been going on, alongside the date and year.
From there? I wasn't sure. Which was exactly why I needed to find out more information about what was going on.
Slowly, and quietly, making sure not to disturb Luzon during her much-needed sleep, I flipped through the pile, looking for anything on shipgirls, mostly based on the cover.
I swiftly realized that all of them seemed to have shipgirl related stuff. Okay, that probably shouldn't be too surprising. Shipgirls would be popular, for various reasons. Alright then, let's start at the top.
Skimming my why through with an eye out for any number that looked like part of a date. When did Abyssal's show up? When did shipgirl's show up? Last I remembered, it was 2020. During September. Go to sleep and boom, wake up in the middle of the ocean. Something like that just didn't happen without good reason.
Did I end up in the future? Some alternate reality? Quite frankly, there was going to be nothing I could do to disprove the later. Okay, maybe there was. I would just need an electronic device that I had no way of accessing right now. The prior would be a bit more straightforward, hence the dates.
Frowning, I continued to look over the articles, not finding much luck. I hope I wasn't missing something, as the last time I'd read a magazine proper was years before this all started. Okay, here's the article that the cover referenced. Iowa, and some person handing her medal? First United States Navy Battleship summoned?
Yadda, yadda, the first battleship returned. Momentous occasion. Important for the future of the country and the world at large. All nice, informative stuff, but I needed dates! Dates! They had to be somewhere in here, right?
I was, already getting frustrated with this. Not a good sign. Letting the magazine rest on my face, I leaned back with a sigh. Honestly, I probably needed more rest of my own. Even if I had been in a medical and pain-induced coma.
God, I'd been in a coma. That's a sobering thought. Yeah, that's the surface of it! I've lost a limb, and I'm somehow growing it back right now because that's apparently a thing now! I'd gone through, well, whatever it was with that thing, and I wasn't going to try and push why I was drawing a blank, giving the last headache. Then there was everything before that!
And how long had it been? A few weeks? A month? More? My fairies burned the logs they'd been keeping, and quite frankly, I didn't trust my own memory-keeping of time, even under the best days. But right now?
I just didn't know. Not knowing? That was scary.
I'd been fighting a war. I wasn't a soldier. But I'd been fighting anyway.
What was my life becoming? I hadn't wanted anything like this. I certainly wasn't cut out for this sort of thing. The fact I made it this far was more due to blind luck than anything else. Maybe not even that.
Seriously, I needed to start getting this sorted out. Where did I want to go from here? Did I have a choice? Was I going to be strong-armed in the military?
I mean, the Absyssal's staying around was something I certainly didn't want. My eyes flickered over to Luzon. They needed to be thrown back into the pit from whence they came for what they did to her. And to me. And probably to the world's population at large.
But what could I do? I was one light cruiser out of how many? That's not even going into my complete lack of training and absolute minimal experience. And calling in minimal felt generous, given how it was probably the naval tactical equivalent of smacking my face into a keyboard.
Sure, training was something that could be worked on. I doubt they'd be incompetent enough to send someone without training into the thick of things. But? I don't know. Was joining up with the navy something I wanted to do?
Of course, that was while ignoring, quite frankly, quite a large issue. One I had conveniently thrown into a closet and ignored for the sake of survival. It was nice to be able to ignore it while I was fighting for my life because I certainly didn't have that luxury now!
My eyes gazed down at my chest, before flicking away.
Yeah, I'm not getting used to that. This was something I just had no idea what to do with. I should be dysmorphic to hell and back right now. I really should be freaking out more about this than I had been. Sure, I cried my eyes out when I first saw my reflection in the mirror. But that was, shock? Surprise? A bit of a mental breakdown? The full weight of my current situation hitting me? But I don't think it was dysmorphia.
That? That was creepy. No, that was freaky. I should be having a complete and utter panic attack about this! There was no reason I should be this calm. A bit weird? Yes. Feeling a bit off? Yes.
But I didn't feel wrong. And that fact I wasn't?
Was setting off the alarm bells in my logical mind, because I knew enough to know I should. Which was a whole nothing can of worms that I could probably never bring up ever because it'd make me seem crazy. Well, crazier than I probably already was.
Quite frankly, the fact I was drawing a memory blank wasn't a good sign either. Even more so with all the pain when I did try to think about it.
Where was I going with this? I wasn't sure. Probably something about giving a Therapist a need for a pay raise sometime soon. Multiple, actually, now that I think about it, as Luzon certainly needed therapy of her own, and I wasn't going to take no for an answer on that front.
Anyway, if I was going to get some sleep, it was probably time to get my brain shut off. Hopefully, reading would help my gears slow down because I couldn't rely on utter exhaustion right now.
Let's actually give this a read, then. I paused for a moment, looking at the cover, my eyes drawn towards the top of the page.
12/13/2021
No. That's. Crap.
The last day I remembered before I woke up here was August. August in the year 2020.
That meant more than a year had passed.
Please. Don't let it be real. I don't want to cry anymore.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
I woke up to a splash, water suddenly ending up all over my face. Goody, I managed to fall asleep after all. When was that?
Luzon let out a giggle as she surfaced, enjoying herself in the warm bath. Did she just cannonball on in here? The water couldn't be deep enough for someone to do that safely? Right?
"You better have gotten something to eat before you jumped on in here," I chuckled, ruffling her hair.
"I did," Luzon beamed up at me. The rumble of her stomach told me she was lying. My eyebrow raised, almost amused. Though she certainly needed to eat, however. Unlike to be growing fast at all, I doubt she was getting a lot of nutrition back in the Philippines in the first place. Shipgirls tended to eat quite a bit, even destroyers. Luzon was likely no expectation to that rule.
"Luzon," I crossed my arms, trying to my best impression of my own mother. "You need to be eating."
"I have been," she huffed, face turning into a pout.
"We've been giving her the same amount of food she needs. Even if she's a bit of a picky eater," the new voice just about made me jump out of my skin, arms going from crossed in parental disapproval to surprised flailing.
"Please, don't surprise me like that," I lowered my arms as my breathing began to steady. She was a battleship, I think. Same triple guns as Iowa. Those had no right to claim anything approaching stealth like that. How long had she been sitting there? Minutes? Hours?
"Sorry. I didn't mean to alarm you," she looked down at me, giving me a strange look. One that made me want to sink into the water. Though Luzon was already doing that, avoiding the battleship's gaze as she slowly made her way over to me.
"I'll be fine. Surprises are something I generally don't take well," I huffed, voice nearly reaching a mutter. She wasn't lying, or at the very least, I don't think she was.
"I'll keep that in mind for the future," she paused for a moment. "Probably send word to the Admiral is well on that front. I know for a fact a ship back at Sasebo will certainly be trying to throw you a party. Probably several. In rapid succession.
Well. That was. Alarming? Concerning? I certainly would understand why someone would do that, don't get me wrong. But parties, especially large scale, which a military base would most certainly be?
I don't know. Luzon probably wouldn't be up for it, if her current interactions with other people were anything to go by. And I certainly wasn't a social butterfly even under the best of times. Not showing up, on the other hand, was simply just rude. Given the work that probably would be put into it, exceptionally rude at that.
"Thanks for the heads up," I nodded, before frowning slightly. I had no idea who this person was. They seemed familiar, but I just couldn't quite place it. Did I even have a name to put on their face? I, I don't think I did.
"You don't remember me? Luzon's arms wrapped around my stomach once again as the battleship spoke.
"Sorry. I really don't," I paused, trying to push into my memories, though I backed off the moment pain began to flare in my temple.
"It's okay. Vulcan said she expected you were suffering from memory loss," she looked away for a moment, seeming to make sure I couldn't see something. Memory loss though? That certainly made sense. It would explain, well, what I've been dealing with whenever I try to force myself to remember.
"Either way, I was here to check up on you and your progress. And get Luzon something to eat, of course," Luzon immediately began to bury further into my side. "Which, as I can see, is going to be unlikely."
On one hand, Luzon certainly didn't want to leave, and I doubt anything less than a crowbar was going to unlodge her from her current position. Nor was separation likely to really do anything in the long term. As much as I didn't want her to go hungry, Luzon's mental health had to also be considered.
"If she wants to wait, she can wait. I'd ask if you could just bring her food, but there's probably a rule about that somewhere," I frowned. Hopefully, this was the right call to make. Six more hours wasn't going to be that detrimental. Right?
"Unfortunately, yes. Due to several incidents, food isn't allowed in the baths as a precaution," well, the whole multiple incidents part was interesting. Probably a funny story behind it, too. Still, they'd have to be pretty bad if they banned food because of it.
"Though it'll probably take a bit more than six hours before you two would get something to eat."
"Oh? Really? Why is that?" I looked up, somewhat confused at the battleship. What was that supposed to mean?
"The second reason I'm here is that Vulcan wants to run a diagnostic once you're completely patched up. Mostly as a precaution against anything that may have been missed," okay, that made sense. I'd taken a considerable beating, so of course, they want to make sure everything is physically in order before turning me even somewhat loose.
Luzon's stomach let out another rumble, this one stronger than the last. She shifted slightly in the water. Probably her stomach protesting under the fact it would be even longer than Luzon had anticipated before she ate. Was that going to be enough to convince her to get something to eat?
Oh, who am I kidding, she was already clinging back into me by the time the battleship began to raise her eyebrow.
"Well, that was worth a shot. I'll try to find you a change of clothes, given how, you know," she paused as if trying to think of something. Honestly, if so much of a scrap of my old outfit was intact, I'd be impressed. It was a disaster before I got to the Philippines, and after? Honestly, it should be pitched into a fire, if only to save me the embarrassment of seeing what I'd been running around in.
She simply nodded, before standing up to leave.
"Wait," she paused at the sound of my voice, turning around. There was something she mentioned at the start of the conversation. Should have gotten it clarified back then, but I've only just remembered it.
"You mentioned something about Luzon being a picky eater. Can you tell me what that entails, exactly?" Luzon made a squeak, burying herself further into my side. Honestly? I was a pretty picky eater myself. Even if me now being a ship has gone a considerable way into rectifying that issue. Just more than two decades late by my parent's standards. Mom would be pulling her hair out over this, I could already tell.
"We've mostly been having a hard time getting her to eat just about anything. Pineapples are just about the only thing we can get her to eat, and we have been spreading them into other recipes, but there is a limit," I looked down at Luzon, whose head was currently doing its best to reshape my ribs.
That was. Yeah, no. Not going to fly. Absolutely not. I'm not sure how many recipes you could put pineapples into, but certainly, they wouldn't provide Luzon's dietary needs. And as much as she deserved to be pampered, that didn't mean I was okay with potentially taking up the entire ship's supply. The people that saved us deserved pineapples too. If they liked pineapples, anyway.
"I'll think of something," I paused for a moment. I'd practiced a bit of cooking when preparing to set off on my own. Pandemic made the job hunt to facilitate that difficult, however. But I had a few recipients up my sleeve. Most of them were simple. Scrambled eggs. Bacon. Pancakes. Those sorts of things.
But she was already having too much of the latter, and as for the two former? This was a military vessel. They should have both in spades. Right?
I'd have to take stock of ingredients. And maybe consult some type of recipe book. Lasagna probably wasn't the most complex recipe in the world, even if I was working off half-remembered knowledge. Noodles. Cheese. Pasta sauce. There was supposed to be some type of filling? Like with manicotti? Sour cream, I think.
That's why I needed to get my hands on a recipe book. I wanted, no, needed to get this right. In part because getting it wrong likely wasn't going to help Luzon's pickiness. Honestly? It would probably make it worse. Though cooking lasagna from scratch was going to take even more time after the medical checkup.
"I'm sure you will," the battleship hummed for a moment. "Though I do have to ask if you know how to cook."
Strange. For a moment, I thought I saw her shudder. What was that about?
"Enough. I'm not going to give someone food poisoning or light myself on fire if that's what you're worried about," something told me that wasn't at all what she was worried about.
"I'll notify the kitchen staff, regardless. Just as a safety precaution," she frowned. "I'll return once I've finished if you like."
Part of me wanted to take her up on that offer. Having someone to talk to was, well, nice. But, if Luzon was going to be like this? She was going to have to get acclimated to others eventually. But pushing it just seemed like a bad idea.
"Thank you for your offer, but I don't think Luzon will take visitors very well," she snuggled further into my rib cage, but her grip loosened.
"Understandable. I'll leave the change of clothes in the locker room, and send an escort so you can get to Vulcan's office without getting lost if I'm not available to do so," the battleship rose, pulling herself up to slightly shorter than Iowa.
"Thank you," I nodded pausing as she headed towards the door. Wait. Had I not gotten her name throughout that whole conversation? Not even once?
"Thank you, South Dakota."
I think that's what Luzon said. I wasn't quite sure, with most of her face still remaining lodged in my ribs. It was nice to have a name to put to the face, but that still didn't explain why she felt familiar.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
"She's really bad at this," Kongo peaked through the door, letting the snippets of conversation filter in through the door.
"Nee-san, South Dakota's going to notice. We should probably wait until someone has time to tell her the war is over. Or at the very least, wait until she's out of the baths," Hiei couldn't deny she was curious about Isabella. It was probably for the best that she be told about the war's end, after all.
"We could tell her ourselves."
Oh fuck why.
I give Luzon 50/50 odds of either going catatonic or ripping a battlecruiser's turret off.
Johnson: Why do I have the feeling I'm supposed to be impressed by something?
Literally everyone else: Confused Screaming.
Chapter 16
Slowly, Luzon pulled herself from my side. Just how much pressure was she putting on my side? It felt as if my ribs had started to contort under the strain. Still, I couldn't suppress the warm chuckle that exited my throat as she invaded my lap. Luzon was adorable like that, but at the same time, I had to worry. Being shy wasn't something I was a stranger to. But I'd be lying to myself if I tried to pass this off as simply being shy.
Because Luzon wasn't just being shy. Iowa, Vulcan, and now, South Dakota, all had her clinging to my side, doing her best to avoid them. With South Dakota and Iowa, I could accept that she simply found the larger battleships intimidating. But Vulcan? A repair ship? Sure, it wouldn't surprise me if Vulcan outgunned Luzon, American anti-aircraft guns, and all that. But being frightened by a repair ship?
Sure, I hadn't seen how she reacted around other shipgirls. However, extrapolating from what I already had wasn't painting a pleasant picture. Not only did I have to worry about her getting the proper amount of nutrients, but I now also had to worry about if she was getting enough social interaction with people besides me. So much as I'd like to be there for her at all times, the odds of that being reality were, well, I simply wouldn't be. For whatever reason, that may be. One just couldn't simply expect all of life's punches.
So at the very least, I'd like her to have some form of support network that went beyond, well. Me.
"You're being silly," I grinned, getting to work on breading her hair once again. My fingers certainly felt better than they had before. They weren't quaking at the slightest bit of excursion.
"No, you are," Luzon hummed, kicking the water, sending ripple out across the pool. Really? Who already told her about the uno-reverse card? Wait, did they still have memes? If they did, they better have revived Killroy.
"I'm talking about you eating nothing but pancakes. You're a growing girl, after all," I frowned slightly. "You need to eat. It's just not healthy otherwise."
"Everything else was just slimy and," Luzon stuck out her tongue. This was karmic judgment, wasn't it? Having to take care of a picky eater after all the things I put my parents through?
"I'll find something you'll like. Even if I have to cook a thousand recipes for you," I grinned, rocking her back slightly in the pool. Luzon let out a shriek that soon fell into a state of laughter. It didn't take long for me to join in as well, letting our voices echo across the empty room.
Then, in the mist, a door swung open.
That took the laughter out the air right quick. Was South Dakota already back? I didn't think so. It had only been a few minutes. Ten tops! Squinting, instead of there being a single figure, there were two. Had she brought Vulcan back with her?
No, that wasn't it. Both shapes looked to be around the same height through the steam, meaning the pair were likely not any of our previous visitors. Faint voice reached my ears, and while Luzon seemed to freeze up, I couldn't understand a word they said. Which, frankly, didn't tell me much if anything at all. Foreign language was always something I've struggled with, so it really could be just about any language at all.
But it wasn't like there were a whole lot of reasonable options to pick from. They'd gotten here pretty fast, or, at least, I thought so. Meaning they had to come from a fairly nearby close by. Honestly, Japan was probably the best bet. They had been one of the few large naval powers in the Pacific, after all, and we'd been allied with them since the end of the war.
That did little to answer exactly who they were, though. Or why they were here. Maybe I was reading a bit too deeply into things, but it felt like this place was one of those, get permission from whoever it was in charge, sort of deals. Just for the moment though. I doubt anyone just got an entire one of these rooms to themselves.
Given how they were trying to stay quiet. Well, I think they were trying to stay quiet, with all the whispering they were doing. Sure, the steam did wonders when it came to obscuring vision, but it wasn't that thick. I could still make out the outline of their frames. Maybe radar would be useful? But then again, I'm not sure what would happen if I tried to make use of that while inside a giant metal box.
Yeah, probably best that I don't try that and unintentionally make everyone in the room deaf. So, I was just going to have to wait until either the steam parted or they got close enough. Who knows? Maybe they just went to the wrong repair bath by mistake. Surely this couldn't be the only one on this vessel. Right? I mean, that just seemed like poor strategic planning, putting all your medical and wounded in a single location?
Luzon sunk into my body as the twisting of the mists allowed me to spot someone. That was? Kongo?
Okay, sure, I may not have been able to recognize most of the antropomorphized ships Kancolle had, but Kongo? She was either the face of the game or popular enough for that to be the impression I had of her. I couldn't quite be sure, as she was lacking her usual outfit, with a tactical towel in its place. Which left me with only a brief flash of brown hair, a strange little thing on the top of her head as the only features I could go off of.
But that contrast of yellow and brown? I was fairly certain that was Kongo who I had spotted. Her sisters didn't share that combination between their hair color, and whatever it was on their heads. Or, at least, I didn't think so.
There was a lull in the voices before I spotted two figures slip into one of the baths. Apparently, I was wrong. Another one of Kongo's sisters did have brown hair. It was much shorter though. Hiei, maybe? Kirishima had black hair, if I remembered correctly, while Haruna had silver. That left Hiei as the only option remaining.
They both continued to talk, seeming to keep their voices down to at least a polite volume. Certainly, they both had to be speaking in Japanese, meaning I understood nothing. Which was fine by me. Eavesdropping was rather rude, to be frank, so it wasn't like they affected me any. Besides, if they really wanted to talk with me, they'd well, do so.
Right? I mean, I doubt they were trying to apply so weird social treat to get me to engage them so they'd have an excuse to talk with me. That's just silly and overly complicated. And just a giant no in general. I'm not just going to approach two people holding a conversation and minding their own business with some reason to do so.
Luzon's body quaked against mine, despite the tight protective hug I'd put her in.
"It's okay," I stroked Luzon's hair as I reassured her. "They aren't going to hurt you."
I felt her head nod against my ribs, though her shaking continued.
Something told me I was going to have to interrupt their soak, if simply for Luzon's wellbeing. Confronting one's fears was good and all, but as is? This may be too much, too fast. I'd been on the receiving end that more than once, and that was for more harmless and small things. Like spiders and snakes.
Which was nothing compared to the fear of one, if not two different nations of wartime vessels now returned for the deep to fight of eldritch abominations from the deepest parts of the ocean.
"Do you want me to ask them to leave?" I did my best to keep a slight frown from showing. Not out of any sense of shame or disappointment. Rather, it's because I could have sworn the two Japan Battleships seemed to quiet down as I spoke. Eavesdropping is quite rude, and they should both know that.
Luzon looked up at me, with tears in her eyes. Then shook her head.
No.
She, wanted them to stay? I pulled Luzon into an even tighter hug. Such a brave girl! Willing to let them stay, even if she didn't want to be around them? I'm not going to tell you this is why you're getting ice cream, but I'm getting her ice cream for this. She deserved it anyway, but now she double deserves it! Deserves it squared? I don't know. All I know is she will be getting ice cream soon. That was a promise I could more than keep.
Then Luzon began to shake even more violently. I loosened my grip. Had I been holding her too tightly and accidentally hurt her? Her grip on me tightened, as she shoved her face into my stomach. Okay, so if me accidentally hurting her wasn't the problem then what was?
That was when I felt water drip onto my hair. Hair that had been very much dry up until this point. Slowly, my head turned upwards to face whoever it was that was dripping water on my face.
I would have been quite pleased if I could say my face didn't become a blushing inferno, but that would make me a lair. Luzon might not have been looking away purely out of fear, as I swiftly averted my gaze as well.
"Could you please put on a towel?" I did my best not to sound rude, almost biting my tongue in the process. Hot spring etiquette was probably different in Japan. Maybe.
"Sorry," her face backed off, much to my relief, as the shadow and water droplets retreated. She was speaking English, but I couldn't quite place the accent. Japanese, certainly, it couldn't be anything else. But there was something more. Vaguely familiar, almost nostalgic, even. A hint, a vestige of British accent, maybe? "My name is Kongo, and this is my sister, Hiei."
I saw Kongo gesture out of the corner of my eye toward the girl who remained in the bath. She waved at me, which I returned slowly, still keeping one arm around Luzon.
"I'm Isabella," I paused for a moment, before looking down. She didn't appear to want to look up, not that I blamed her. "And this is Luzon."
"She's quite shy, isn't she?" Kongo hummed, for a moment. Of course, she couldn't see it, but my eyes narrowed.
"That's. Not quite the word I would use," my voice was as neutral as possible, but I doubt it would keep the annoyance I felt from slipping through.
Before I could say anything else, Hiei cut me off, speaking a few sentences in Japanese, too which her older sister responded in kind. Each time they spoke, Luzon almost seemed to twitch. Was she doing it out of fear? Or was it something else?
"I bet you were wondering why we stopped by and bothered you?" I could not mistake the joy in Kongo's voice. I had been asking myself that, yes, but I certainly wasn't going to vocalize it. "I'm here to tell you that war is over! You have nothing to fear from us!"
I couldn't help myself. My eyes flickered over in Kongo's direction, only for them to be repelled. Not by her seeming lack of modesty, no. This time it was by the blinding light she seemed to be emitting without any explanation!
Ultimately, once my sight and sense returned to me, I bit my tongue That's what she wanted to tell me? That a war fought nearly eighty years ago was over? I almost wanted to laugh out loud, if it wasn't for the fact she appeared to be completely serious.
"And?" there was nothing else to say. Not really. Was this just another shipgirl thing I wasn't aware of? I mean, Luzon did say something about a ship with my name never being built during the war, so she at least had some knowledge about how it went. Though she never exactly told me how she knew that, but her crew had to be involved at least to some capacity.
My statement brought on a pause. One that just seemed to go on and on. One could hear a pin drop, it was that quiet. It just dragged on for what felt like minutes, in what reality was likely only seconds. This was just straight-up creepy. A stranger to silence I was not, but most certainly not like this.
"Are you okay?" At this point, I had to wonder. I don't even think she was breathing anymore. Which shouldn't even be possible, but then again, so is emitting light almost as bright as the sun. The former could at least be possible due to ship stuff, but the former? Maybe spotlights? I only really heard about those that were equipped on smaller vessels, like cruisers and destroyers.
"Nani?" Oh, that? That I understood. I understood that all too well. It was only me nearly biting down on my own tongue that stopped me from saying anything else. Explaining how exactly I knew about a viral internet meme from a famous anime wasn't exactly going to make me sound sane.
Nor would any other explanation about how I could understand that one Japanese word in particular, for that matter.
"You know?" Kongo, thankfully, had switched over to something I could respond to without my face becoming a blushing inferno.
"Yeah?" I raised my eyebrow, turning slightly, almost sighing in relief. "Why would I not?"
That was probably a stupid question. She certainly thought I didn't know, and there had to be a reason why she would think I didn't know about the end of World War Two.
"Well, it just," Kongo almost seemed a bit dejected, as if I'd taken the wind from her sails. "Most unbuilt shipgirls don't."
Ah. That explains why she was surprised. Honestly, unbuilt shipgirls not knowing made sense. At least, a little bit. Being unbuilt was akin to being Tabula Rasa, I think. A Blank Slate and all? Kind of like a baby, in a sense.
Expect said babies were unbuilt naval warships with guns ranging from a few inches to ones easily reaching if not surpassing sixteen inches. And now I'm suddenly terrified. An infant could be difficult to manage under the best of circumstances. I could only imagine how nightmarish it would be to manage one with massive guns and deck armor. Especially one that looks like a human adult.
Why do I have to scare myself like that?
"Well, I just do?" I just about bit my tongue on the spot. Really? I just do? I could have laid about it, said I found some information on one of the islands during my travels. Then again, knowing something is true, is something different than hearing something being true. Would my previous lack of reaction make that a hard sell? Probably. But something told me my answer would only lead to more people asking questions.
Questions I'm not sure I knew the answer to. Certainly questions I didn't want to answer, either. Both were kind of problematic, both in their own unique little ways.
Then, towards where I originally first heard the two enter, there was a loud slam, followed by loud, angry footsteps.
"There you two are!" That voice. South Dakota? She was back already? Though, she didn't exactly seem to happy about being back. Once the larger battleship cleared the steam, the expression on her face made that clear. It wasn't quite anger, but there was certainly some degree of frustration in her gaze.
"I thought the orders were clear that you were to wait until we told her the war is over before you could introduce yourself," South Dakota cross her arms, very much like a disciplining mother.
"She already knows," Kongo still sounded a bit dejected about the whole thing. Did she have some sort of dance number planned or something? A full-on parade she kept who knows where? Those were the only things I could think of as to why she was this down in the dumps.
"She, knows?" South Dakota frowned, eyes falling towards me for a brief moment. "Interesting. I suppose I'll pass along the news, though I doubt anything will be done on the matter."
"Thank you. I don't think Luzon would like all the additional, excitement," that was an understatement in perfect form. While I doubt all visitors would be from the Japanese navy, anything beyond a handful would likely be way too much for Luzon. I felt her face dig into my belly, and her hold on my tighten, only confirming that I was correct.
"That is, a fair point," South Dotaka paused for a moment, scratching her chin. "Unless you want them gone, I don't see any issue letting them stay."
I snickered, not at all ignoring the indigent shout that came from Kongo.
"I've already asked Luzon about that. Even though I don't think she feels comfortable, she's willing to let them stay," I looked down at Luzon's head, my view mostly obscured, but still tender all the same.
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I frowned. Had I just gotten so used to wearing rags? These clothes just felt wrong. Too baggy in some places, too tight in others. It didn't help that they didn't exactly have anything in my exact size, of course. I tended to like looser-fitting clothes, but those were consistently lighter.
Which this most certainly was not. Never mind how much effort I was putting into not thinking about, well, that.
Yeah. That. I'm not thinking about that at all. Not in the slightest.
I understood why it was important, but that didn't make it any less of a pain. It wasn't helping matters that they couldn't exactly dig up something in my size, either. Everything was either too large or too small. Thus, the tightness.
This. This was too much. Could I go back to the bath, please? It was safe there. I didn't have to worry about much of anything. I didn't have to worry about my chest. I didn't have to worry about how I was now a girl. Or how my legs felt. Or how I walked Or how sure I was about that one guy trying to look at my butt. Or. Or. Or.
"Isabella? Isabella. Isabella!" the hand placed on my shoulder caused me to jump, letting out a strangled gasp of surprise.
What? What just happened?
"Isabella? Are you okay? You just seemed to freeze up for a moment there," Iowa's hand was firm on my shoulder.
No.
The answer was simple. No. I was not okay. I was nowhere near close to being okay.
But.
Luzon was looking up at me, tears beginning to form in her eyes. I wasn't just outright going to admit that I wasn't okay. Not in front of her. She was relying on me too much for that.
"I'll be fine," it was a lie. And I don't think Iowa bought it, either. But she certainly didn't press me, either.
"Okay. Just let me know if you need anything. We're almost there," Iowa nodded, running her hand through her hair. I followed after, letting the battleship lead the way, as Luzon kept pace beside me.
Luzon's hand slipped into mine, gently grasping it.
I didn't think things were okay right now. But maybe, just maybe.
Everything will be well.
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I have an announcement. I've finally, nearly a year after graduation, have managed to get a proper full-time job. I've gone through a week so far, and while I don't think it'll affect my upload schedule at this point, things may change in the future, so I just wanted to give everyone a bit of a heads up.
Because Luzon wasn't just being shy. Iowa, Vulcan, and now, South Dakota, all had her clinging to my side, doing her best to avoid them. With South Dakota and Iowa, I could accept that she simply found the larger battleships intimidating. But Vulcan? A repair ship? Sure, it wouldn't surprise me if Vulcan outgunned Luzon, American anti-aircraft guns, and all that. But being frightened by a repair ship?
Sure, I hadn't seen how she reacted around other shipgirls. However, extrapolating from what I already had wasn't painting a pleasant picture. Not only did I have to worry about her getting the proper amount of nutrients, but I now also had to worry about if she was getting enough social interaction with people besides me. So much as I'd like to be there for her at all times, the odds of that being reality were, well, I simply wouldn't be. For whatever reason, that may be. One just couldn't simply expect all of life's punches.
So at the very least, I'd like her to have some form of support network that went beyond, well. Me.
"You're being silly," I grinned, getting to work on breading her hair once again. My fingers certainly felt better than they had before. They weren't quaking at the slightest bit of excursion.
"No, you are," Luzon hummed, kicking the water, sending ripple out across the pool. Really? Who already told her about the uno-reverse card? Wait, did they still have memes? If they did, they better have revived Killroy.
"I'm talking about you eating nothing but pancakes. You're a growing girl, after all," I frowned slightly. "You need to eat. It's just not healthy otherwise."
"Everything else was just slimy and," Luzon stuck out her tongue. This was karmic judgment, wasn't it? Having to take care of a picky eater after all the things I put my parents through?
"I'll find something you'll like. Even if I have to cook a thousand recipes for you," I grinned, rocking her back slightly in the pool. Luzon let out a shriek that soon fell into a state of laughter. It didn't take long for me to join in as well, letting our voices echo across the empty room.
Then, in the mist, a door swung open.
That took the laughter out the air right quick. Was South Dakota already back? I didn't think so. It had only been a few minutes. Ten tops! Squinting, instead of there being a single figure, there were two. Had she brought Vulcan back with her?
No, that wasn't it. Both shapes looked to be around the same height through the steam, meaning the pair were likely not any of our previous visitors. Faint voice reached my ears, and while Luzon seemed to freeze up, I couldn't understand a word they said. Which, frankly, didn't tell me much if anything at all. Foreign language was always something I've struggled with, so it really could be just about any language at all.
But it wasn't like there were a whole lot of reasonable options to pick from. They'd gotten here pretty fast, or, at least, I thought so. Meaning they had to come from a fairly nearby close by. Honestly, Japan was probably the best bet. They had been one of the few large naval powers in the Pacific, after all, and we'd been allied with them since the end of the war.
That did little to answer exactly who they were, though. Or why they were here. Maybe I was reading a bit too deeply into things, but it felt like this place was one of those, get permission from whoever it was in charge, sort of deals. Just for the moment though. I doubt anyone just got an entire one of these rooms to themselves.
Given how they were trying to stay quiet. Well, I think they were trying to stay quiet, with all the whispering they were doing. Sure, the steam did wonders when it came to obscuring vision, but it wasn't that thick. I could still make out the outline of their frames. Maybe radar would be useful? But then again, I'm not sure what would happen if I tried to make use of that while inside a giant metal box.
Yeah, probably best that I don't try that and unintentionally make everyone in the room deaf. So, I was just going to have to wait until either the steam parted or they got close enough. Who knows? Maybe they just went to the wrong repair bath by mistake. Surely this couldn't be the only one on this vessel. Right? I mean, that just seemed like poor strategic planning, putting all your medical and wounded in a single location?
Luzon sunk into my body as the twisting of the mists allowed me to spot someone. That was? Kongo?
Okay, sure, I may not have been able to recognize most of the antropomorphized ships Kancolle had, but Kongo? She was either the face of the game or popular enough for that to be the impression I had of her. I couldn't quite be sure, as she was lacking her usual outfit, with a tactical towel in its place. Which left me with only a brief flash of brown hair, a strange little thing on the top of her head as the only features I could go off of.
But that contrast of yellow and brown? I was fairly certain that was Kongo who I had spotted. Her sisters didn't share that combination between their hair color, and whatever it was on their heads. Or, at least, I didn't think so.
There was a lull in the voices before I spotted two figures slip into one of the baths. Apparently, I was wrong. Another one of Kongo's sisters did have brown hair. It was much shorter though. Hiei, maybe? Kirishima had black hair, if I remembered correctly, while Haruna had silver. That left Hiei as the only option remaining.
They both continued to talk, seeming to keep their voices down to at least a polite volume. Certainly, they both had to be speaking in Japanese, meaning I understood nothing. Which was fine by me. Eavesdropping was rather rude, to be frank, so it wasn't like they affected me any. Besides, if they really wanted to talk with me, they'd well, do so.
Right? I mean, I doubt they were trying to apply so weird social treat to get me to engage them so they'd have an excuse to talk with me. That's just silly and overly complicated. And just a giant no in general. I'm not just going to approach two people holding a conversation and minding their own business with some reason to do so.
Luzon's body quaked against mine, despite the tight protective hug I'd put her in.
"It's okay," I stroked Luzon's hair as I reassured her. "They aren't going to hurt you."
I felt her head nod against my ribs, though her shaking continued.
Something told me I was going to have to interrupt their soak, if simply for Luzon's wellbeing. Confronting one's fears was good and all, but as is? This may be too much, too fast. I'd been on the receiving end that more than once, and that was for more harmless and small things. Like spiders and snakes.
Which was nothing compared to the fear of one, if not two different nations of wartime vessels now returned for the deep to fight of eldritch abominations from the deepest parts of the ocean.
"Do you want me to ask them to leave?" I did my best to keep a slight frown from showing. Not out of any sense of shame or disappointment. Rather, it's because I could have sworn the two Japan Battleships seemed to quiet down as I spoke. Eavesdropping is quite rude, and they should both know that.
Luzon looked up at me, with tears in her eyes. Then shook her head.
No.
She, wanted them to stay? I pulled Luzon into an even tighter hug. Such a brave girl! Willing to let them stay, even if she didn't want to be around them? I'm not going to tell you this is why you're getting ice cream, but I'm getting her ice cream for this. She deserved it anyway, but now she double deserves it! Deserves it squared? I don't know. All I know is she will be getting ice cream soon. That was a promise I could more than keep.
Then Luzon began to shake even more violently. I loosened my grip. Had I been holding her too tightly and accidentally hurt her? Her grip on me tightened, as she shoved her face into my stomach. Okay, so if me accidentally hurting her wasn't the problem then what was?
That was when I felt water drip onto my hair. Hair that had been very much dry up until this point. Slowly, my head turned upwards to face whoever it was that was dripping water on my face.
I would have been quite pleased if I could say my face didn't become a blushing inferno, but that would make me a lair. Luzon might not have been looking away purely out of fear, as I swiftly averted my gaze as well.
"Could you please put on a towel?" I did my best not to sound rude, almost biting my tongue in the process. Hot spring etiquette was probably different in Japan. Maybe.
"Sorry," her face backed off, much to my relief, as the shadow and water droplets retreated. She was speaking English, but I couldn't quite place the accent. Japanese, certainly, it couldn't be anything else. But there was something more. Vaguely familiar, almost nostalgic, even. A hint, a vestige of British accent, maybe? "My name is Kongo, and this is my sister, Hiei."
I saw Kongo gesture out of the corner of my eye toward the girl who remained in the bath. She waved at me, which I returned slowly, still keeping one arm around Luzon.
"I'm Isabella," I paused for a moment, before looking down. She didn't appear to want to look up, not that I blamed her. "And this is Luzon."
"She's quite shy, isn't she?" Kongo hummed, for a moment. Of course, she couldn't see it, but my eyes narrowed.
"That's. Not quite the word I would use," my voice was as neutral as possible, but I doubt it would keep the annoyance I felt from slipping through.
Before I could say anything else, Hiei cut me off, speaking a few sentences in Japanese, too which her older sister responded in kind. Each time they spoke, Luzon almost seemed to twitch. Was she doing it out of fear? Or was it something else?
"I bet you were wondering why we stopped by and bothered you?" I could not mistake the joy in Kongo's voice. I had been asking myself that, yes, but I certainly wasn't going to vocalize it. "I'm here to tell you that war is over! You have nothing to fear from us!"
I couldn't help myself. My eyes flickered over in Kongo's direction, only for them to be repelled. Not by her seeming lack of modesty, no. This time it was by the blinding light she seemed to be emitting without any explanation!
Ultimately, once my sight and sense returned to me, I bit my tongue That's what she wanted to tell me? That a war fought nearly eighty years ago was over? I almost wanted to laugh out loud, if it wasn't for the fact she appeared to be completely serious.
"And?" there was nothing else to say. Not really. Was this just another shipgirl thing I wasn't aware of? I mean, Luzon did say something about a ship with my name never being built during the war, so she at least had some knowledge about how it went. Though she never exactly told me how she knew that, but her crew had to be involved at least to some capacity.
My statement brought on a pause. One that just seemed to go on and on. One could hear a pin drop, it was that quiet. It just dragged on for what felt like minutes, in what reality was likely only seconds. This was just straight-up creepy. A stranger to silence I was not, but most certainly not like this.
"Are you okay?" At this point, I had to wonder. I don't even think she was breathing anymore. Which shouldn't even be possible, but then again, so is emitting light almost as bright as the sun. The former could at least be possible due to ship stuff, but the former? Maybe spotlights? I only really heard about those that were equipped on smaller vessels, like cruisers and destroyers.
"Nani?" Oh, that? That I understood. I understood that all too well. It was only me nearly biting down on my own tongue that stopped me from saying anything else. Explaining how exactly I knew about a viral internet meme from a famous anime wasn't exactly going to make me sound sane.
Nor would any other explanation about how I could understand that one Japanese word in particular, for that matter.
"You know?" Kongo, thankfully, had switched over to something I could respond to without my face becoming a blushing inferno.
"Yeah?" I raised my eyebrow, turning slightly, almost sighing in relief. "Why would I not?"
That was probably a stupid question. She certainly thought I didn't know, and there had to be a reason why she would think I didn't know about the end of World War Two.
"Well, it just," Kongo almost seemed a bit dejected, as if I'd taken the wind from her sails. "Most unbuilt shipgirls don't."
Ah. That explains why she was surprised. Honestly, unbuilt shipgirls not knowing made sense. At least, a little bit. Being unbuilt was akin to being Tabula Rasa, I think. A Blank Slate and all? Kind of like a baby, in a sense.
Expect said babies were unbuilt naval warships with guns ranging from a few inches to ones easily reaching if not surpassing sixteen inches. And now I'm suddenly terrified. An infant could be difficult to manage under the best of circumstances. I could only imagine how nightmarish it would be to manage one with massive guns and deck armor. Especially one that looks like a human adult.
Why do I have to scare myself like that?
"Well, I just do?" I just about bit my tongue on the spot. Really? I just do? I could have laid about it, said I found some information on one of the islands during my travels. Then again, knowing something is true, is something different than hearing something being true. Would my previous lack of reaction make that a hard sell? Probably. But something told me my answer would only lead to more people asking questions.
Questions I'm not sure I knew the answer to. Certainly questions I didn't want to answer, either. Both were kind of problematic, both in their own unique little ways.
Then, towards where I originally first heard the two enter, there was a loud slam, followed by loud, angry footsteps.
"There you two are!" That voice. South Dakota? She was back already? Though, she didn't exactly seem to happy about being back. Once the larger battleship cleared the steam, the expression on her face made that clear. It wasn't quite anger, but there was certainly some degree of frustration in her gaze.
"I thought the orders were clear that you were to wait until we told her the war is over before you could introduce yourself," South Dakota cross her arms, very much like a disciplining mother.
"She already knows," Kongo still sounded a bit dejected about the whole thing. Did she have some sort of dance number planned or something? A full-on parade she kept who knows where? Those were the only things I could think of as to why she was this down in the dumps.
"She, knows?" South Dakota frowned, eyes falling towards me for a brief moment. "Interesting. I suppose I'll pass along the news, though I doubt anything will be done on the matter."
"Thank you. I don't think Luzon would like all the additional, excitement," that was an understatement in perfect form. While I doubt all visitors would be from the Japanese navy, anything beyond a handful would likely be way too much for Luzon. I felt her face dig into my belly, and her hold on my tighten, only confirming that I was correct.
"That is, a fair point," South Dotaka paused for a moment, scratching her chin. "Unless you want them gone, I don't see any issue letting them stay."
I snickered, not at all ignoring the indigent shout that came from Kongo.
"I've already asked Luzon about that. Even though I don't think she feels comfortable, she's willing to let them stay," I looked down at Luzon's head, my view mostly obscured, but still tender all the same.
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I frowned. Had I just gotten so used to wearing rags? These clothes just felt wrong. Too baggy in some places, too tight in others. It didn't help that they didn't exactly have anything in my exact size, of course. I tended to like looser-fitting clothes, but those were consistently lighter.
Which this most certainly was not. Never mind how much effort I was putting into not thinking about, well, that.
Yeah. That. I'm not thinking about that at all. Not in the slightest.
I understood why it was important, but that didn't make it any less of a pain. It wasn't helping matters that they couldn't exactly dig up something in my size, either. Everything was either too large or too small. Thus, the tightness.
This. This was too much. Could I go back to the bath, please? It was safe there. I didn't have to worry about much of anything. I didn't have to worry about my chest. I didn't have to worry about how I was now a girl. Or how my legs felt. Or how I walked Or how sure I was about that one guy trying to look at my butt. Or. Or. Or.
"Isabella? Isabella. Isabella!" the hand placed on my shoulder caused me to jump, letting out a strangled gasp of surprise.
What? What just happened?
"Isabella? Are you okay? You just seemed to freeze up for a moment there," Iowa's hand was firm on my shoulder.
No.
The answer was simple. No. I was not okay. I was nowhere near close to being okay.
But.
Luzon was looking up at me, tears beginning to form in her eyes. I wasn't just outright going to admit that I wasn't okay. Not in front of her. She was relying on me too much for that.
"I'll be fine," it was a lie. And I don't think Iowa bought it, either. But she certainly didn't press me, either.
"Okay. Just let me know if you need anything. We're almost there," Iowa nodded, running her hand through her hair. I followed after, letting the battleship lead the way, as Luzon kept pace beside me.
Luzon's hand slipped into mine, gently grasping it.
I didn't think things were okay right now. But maybe, just maybe.
Everything will be well.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
I have an announcement. I've finally, nearly a year after graduation, have managed to get a proper full-time job. I've gone through a week so far, and while I don't think it'll affect my upload schedule at this point, things may change in the future, so I just wanted to give everyone a bit of a heads up.
- Location
- Home
it's not fun unless there's a fat stack of phobias, isn't there. the Admirals gonna have a fun time unpacking this one.
and... what the hell, Kongo? you know this cruiser has been to hell and back, you've been told not to go in, and you go anyway? I guess I shouldn't expect anything less
and... what the hell, Kongo? you know this cruiser has been to hell and back, you've been told not to go in, and you go anyway? I guess I shouldn't expect anything less
Chapter 17
Calling the current situation a political nightmare, was, well, putting things lightly. One pretty much above his pay grade, admittedly. But he knew more than a fair share of people were looking to put someone's head on a pike for this.
Not that he blamed them. The Philippine government in exile was certainly going to have what evacuation records they had very closely by, well, everyone. It wouldn't inherently surprise him if the Philippine people didn't want them back, either. Something had to have gone wrong. He was already running a headcount, a mess in its own right, but it was raising more questions than it answered. They were already at over ten million people accounted for. It is miraculous that they found that many at all, seeing as Abyssal's had controlled the Philippines since near the start of the war.
The aviation battleship wasn't the first Abyssal in charge, either. The Philippine Island Demon, as she was known, had proven to be a considerable thorn in Japan's side. It had taken a combination of Yamato, Musashi, Nagato, and several other ships to beat down, and even then, it'd managed to escape with its life. Nobody had seen it since, despite the fact it sent several ships back to the repair baths. Painting a picture of what happened afterward wasn't too difficult, due to her lack of appearance thus far. Either sank in route, or its fleet turned against it.
Was the former demon doing the same? Or was this just simply due to new management?
It was certainly a cruel mercy if nothing else. He was requesting evacuation records as well, what little of them probably existed. Hopefully, he could get some numbers on how many managed to make it out. But this many being alive? It raised questions. Ones that would likely see calls for a new offensive, an event that could prove disastrous if they overextended.
Of course, if this one aviation battleship had managed to keep this many prisoners alive? Why? What was its goal? Did it even have one? Or was this simply a case of deciding the cruelest thing was to make people suffer, rather than just outright kill them?
And if that was its thought process, how many other Abyssal's were out there in the ocean, doing the same thing? That thought made his blood boil, though he had to keep his anger in check. Many shipgirls were beyond furious. South Dakota especially, though from what he understood, she was doing her best to keep it from the currently repairing ship, which she was also focused on.
Then again, it seemed as if so many balls had been dropped on this front. The fact that the American ships didn't break off to hunt down random fleeing Abyssal's after the camps had come to their attention was a miracle he could only thank Iowa for. But the fact there were numerous prison camps spread throughout the island? He had a hunch, which was why he requested information about the camps built by Japan during the Second World War. Still, he had whatever recon planes and even drones scouring the rest of the islands at this very moment.
He was not going to let things get worse. Not on his watch.
They'd even had to break into their food reserves, simply to get all the freed prisoners the necessities they needed. Thankfully, the relief fleet would be carrying even more food, alongside medical supplies and resources for construction. From there, the Vestal had new marching orders, in the meantime. Mostly acting as a transport itself, ferrying more supplies while being supported by a new fleet squadron. Georgia would remain, but most of the other shipgirls needed to return to Sasebo and Yokosuka.
Which was more than understandable. Sasebo was certainly going to need it, as they would providing considerable support to the reconstruction effort until further bases could be set up. Though he was unsure how many shipgirls could be spared for such a task. He knew the Navy was trying to put new steel hulls in the water. Ones built specifically to fight Abyssal's, freeing up resources from other theaters.
Those were still a long time coming. New, more precise, and quite frankly, closer range weapons were what was needed, not missiles. Quite frankly, more than a few of the designs he'd seen required technology that didn't exist. Yet.
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It was just a checkup. Only a checkup. Nothing more. Nothing less.
That's what I kept telling myself.
So why did it feel like I swallowed an entire flight of butterflies?
I just didn't know. There was no reason I should be this nervous right now. My fingers strained, desperate to dance against the inside of my palm. How bad of an example was I setting right now? Probably something horrendous and awful.
I breathed, trying to calm my beating heart as it thundered inside my ribs.
This wasn't working. I wasn't calming down. My body felt as if each atom was vibrating on its own. I needed a release valve. Tap my fingers, tap my feet.
Well, probably not tap my feet. My eyes skirted away from the dent that had begun to form a few minutes prior. If I tapped my foot anymore, I might just end up punching a hole through the floor. Which would certainly be quite bad. And I didn't need to deal with that on my mind, on top of everything else.
Finally, the door swung open, as a girl with dark hair and eyes I could almost describe as red. Just a little taller than me, so slightly less short, I thought grimly. Still, her outfit wasn't what I expected. It was more suited for a mechanic or an engineer, over a doctor or medic.
Oh. Okay. That makes sense. Great. Not only is my body being dumb, but my brain is also being dumb, too. Good teamwork, guys. Really pulling through for me in my time of need.
She seemed familiar, though. Like, really familiar. That, I've seen you before, I should be able to remember exactly who you are, sort of familiar. But I hadn't seen her before in my life. Right? Whoever she was, she probably didn't and wouldn't appear in Kancolle, due to the game's greater focus on the Japanese navy. And in Azur Lane, light carriers ended up taking over repair ship's healing roll, so I certainly didn't know her from there, either. Vestal was the only United States repair ship present, after all.
So why did she look so familiar? I wanted to get to the bottom of this, but I wasn't getting anywhere quickly.
"Sorry for the wait. I had a meeting with Admiral Richardson about some important details once we arrive back at Sasebo," the repair ship rubbed the back of her head somewhat awkwardly. Sasebo? One of the largest naval bases in Japan, run jointly with the United States Navy? That Sasebo? That's where we were going?
That, well, made sense. It was partially run by the United States, after all. They would be in the best position to pick up my initial distress signal and respond. And it would explain the split in ship's I'd met so far. Two Japanese battleships and two American ones. A joint task force was a good sign, though I had a hard time imagining all the bad blood that built up during the war was entirely gone.
"Shouldn't something like that wait until after Isabella's appointment?" Iowa did raise a good point. This Admiral Richardson? Was he in charge of Sasebo? Over this entire operation? I'd have to probably get him a letter, regardless. I would imagine he was involved in Luzon and I getting rescued, if she was in touch with him.
"I'll inform him next time he contacts me. You know just as well as I do that he's been under no small amount of stress and pressure as of late," the repair ship shook her head. "Honestly, he'll probably be back in touch in an hour or two. Three tops."
Iowa frowned, but simply nodded. Under a lot of pressure? Stress? Neither of those things sounded good. An operation like this would naturally lead to those two being in abundance. But this couldn't be the only cause, right? I mean, figuring out how I got there was probably a logistical nightmare by itself. Especially in the context of having a light cruiser show up in the middle of nowhere.
Safe to say, I'd be answering quite a few questions when I finally got to Sasebo, then. That? That was kind of scary. I didn't want to lie, but there was no way in hell I was mentioning anything about my previous life right now. Nobody would believe me, and my sanity was probably already something the Admiralty would want to look into as is. That would just get me sent on a one-way trip to the loony bin.
"Regardless," she turned towards me. "It's good to see that you're finally up and about. You certainly look a lot better."
"I'm sorry, but I don't remember any of that," I frowned. Maybe that's why she looked familiar? Some sort of unconscious deja vu situation? A brief look flashed across her face.
"Don't be. You were quite out of it. Honestly, it is probably best if you didn't remember," well, if that wasn't ominous. How bad of a state was I in if that's the medical professional's opinion on things?
She was probably right. I didn't want to know.
Though why do I have the sinking suspicion that I embarrassed myself in front of her?
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Vulcan almost frowned. Almost, being the operative term. Isabella's heart rate was a bit on the fast side, with her leg vibrating at nearly a constant pace. Vulcan was pleased in her choice to Luzon accompany Isabella. That way she didn't have to deal with Isabella tapping her fingers, too.
Was this a habit picked up to expend energy, or was it simply due to Isabella being anxious? Or was it both? The latter was certainly likely. Isabella certainly seemed incredibly nervous, possibly going into territory Vulcan would call jumpy, at lack of a better word. Not that she would blame Isabella. Vulcan had expected worse, even after the whole incident with Kongo and Hiei not ending in gunfire.
Frankly, Vulcan knew she was nowhere near qualified enough for this. Thankfully, Luzon, despite her having her own issues that Vulcan was even less qualified to sort out, was proving to be a distraction of sorts. Mutual therapy, maybe? Certainly, something to look into and keep in mind.
But aside from psychological issues that weren't visible yet, Isabella had recovered quite well. Her hull and internal machinery were in good shape, with extensive damage and even neglect being completely repaired. Even her scraped six-inch gun was good as new. Even her human body had been repaired. Outside of her aforementioned elevated heart rate and a slight case of malnutrition, Isabella had nearly fully recovered. There was just one problem.
The scars.
Bright red and angry, they covered much of her upper arms, and finding an unblemished portion of her torso was a difficult task. As she expected, most of them avoided being placed just above internal organs, the most notable being above Isabella's heart and lungs. Very much like the last time Vulcan had seen what had once been stabs and cuts.
While there were certainly shipgirls with scars, Scharnhorst having one on each eye, while Iowa had one, likely due to an explosion in her number-2 turret, for example. Those scars didn't heal in the repair bath, either, but they also appeared to be much older. Far less red and fresh than the ones on Isabella.
However, even comparing cases like that was problematic. Vulcan hadn't heard about scars appearing on a ship, where there were originally none, after a stay in the repair bath before. Repair bath's healed damage and were quite good at it. There were some expectations, but Isabella's wounds had been too recent to qualify for those expectations.
That was concerning. It was certainly beyond Vulcan's ability to explain. Maybe mental effects manifesting in a physical manner? If that was the case, and that was big if, then she should probably be thankful it was manifesting like this, rather than on Isabella's hull. A shipgirl's hull was a representation of their soul, more or less. It sustains permanent damage, well.
That would be considerably bad. A worst-case scenario. Vulcan wasn't quite sure what it would mean, either, to be honest. But she knew it could only mean bad things. At the very minimum, it would mean long-lasting, possibly even lifelong damage that would be difficult, if not impossible, to recover from. At worst?
Vulcan didn't want to even consider the implications brought about by such wounds.
At least these, if her guess was correct, would properly heal as well. Though, without a doubt, it would take a considerable amount of time for Isabella's scars to mend. This only increased the need for therapy in Vulcan's eyes.
"You can put your shirt back on now," Isabella shifted slightly at Vulcan's words, clearly uncomfortable about her current state, and it took a scant few moments for Isabella to throw the borrowed shirt back over her head.
Despite her nerves, Isabella had been quite well behaved. Luzon likely helped in a few more ways than one, but given some of the cruisers, Vulcan had dealt with in the past. The difference between Isabella before and after might as well be night and day, though delirium from pain explained that.
Maybe the reference was nothing more than coincidently mad rambling after all. Vulcan partially doubted it. After all, it was simply far too specific to likely be anything else, even if coincidence was the most logical explanation. But Vulcan was not a big fan of putting much stock in happenstance. It had a tendency for one to simply ignore the difficult questions.
Questions Vulcan would very much like to ask? Certainly. However, whatever questions she had could wait until after Isabella had gone through her debriefing. Vulcan wasn't entirely sure how well that would go. It certainly wouldn't surprise her if they had to back off at certain points.
Though Vulcan had no idea on whether it was entirely due to trauma. Her impression of Isabella had changed drastically. At first, Vulcan had expected Isabella to be much more like her sister, Seattle. Very much a social butterfly, fluttering from one group of people to another. Instead, what she found was someone who was much more reserved. Quiet, maybe?
Vulcan wasn't quite sure how to put it. Isabella didn't seem to inherently dislike human interaction, though Vulcan had concerns the light cruiser might come off that way. Instead of basking in the glow of a social spotlight, as Seattle did, Isabella didn't appear to like the spotlight being on her. Even together with Luzon, they both seemed very quiet. More of enjoyment of one's company in silence?
Was it possible to send word to Seattle to maybe dial it back a bit without Vulcan tipping too much of what's happening? Vulcan wasn't entirely sure. Frankly, on the telling Seattle front, Admiral Richardson was completely on his own. Her only hope was that he didn't wait until the last minute. As to how either of them would react? Seattle would certainly be overjoyed. Isabella? On that front, Vulcan was far less certain.
Having a sibling certainly would be a net positive, at the end of the day. How well would Isabella take Seattle's excitement, though? Isabella was still skittish, and while hopefully, that would fade, Seattle was not exactly subtle. It could lead to the two getting off on the wrong foot. Which was probably the last thing either of the two wanted or needed.
Still, quiet was probably the best word. Isabella generally spoke only when spoken to. She remained silent during Vulcan's brief conversation with Iowa and only engaged once Vulcan's attention had turned to Isabella. Though, it wasn't like Isabella hadn't been paying attention to what was being said. Far from it.
Which brought about Vulcan's last concern. Memory loss. While Vulcan wasn't exactly in a great position to be able to determine how much Isabella had lost. She seemed to have no recollection of their initial meeting, though that isn't any surprise. Given what Isabella had gone through it might be for the best that she didn't remember anything of the events.
That didn't change that memory loss could be a sign for more serious concerns. Brain damage being first and foremost, made even more complicated by the fact repair baths, despite their best efforts, had always been finicky when it came to fixing brain damage. What was caused by battle? Generally fine. However, concussions and similar injuries had to mend the human way. Or simply put, the long, boring way.
It was almost embarrassing how long it'd taken them to realize that. And even long for shipgirls to start acting on that information. Just another thing to keep an eye on, Vulcan supposed. She'd much rather be aware that there might be an unforeseen injury and have some clue as to what it was than any other alternative. But outside of memory loss, Isabella wasn't displaying much else in the way of symptoms, which was a good sign.
"Well, you seem to have completely healed, physically speaking. Some malnutrition, though it shouldn't be anything a return to proper diet won't fix," Vulcan looked up at the cruiser, as Luzon slipped off her lap. "And while it certainly isn't my place, and I don't doubt that the Admiralty will probably sign off on it anyway, but I would consider getting a therapist."
Wait. Vulcan suppressed a frown. She'd forgotten for a moment that Isabella was an unbuilt ship. She likely didn't have any idea what a therapist even was. This was not going to be a conversation Vulcan was going to like having, then. Explaining such a concept would take quite a while.
"I was, thinking about that," Isabella frowned slightly, feet seeming to shift. "For myself, and for Luzon."
Vulcan raised an eyebrow. That was interesting. Most interesting indeed. Not to mention perplexing. Isabella knew what a therapist was? And was considering? Without prompting or orders? The former was strange and certainly would be worth looking into, but the latter? Outright miraculous. Vulcan had heard more than enough horror stories about getting shipgirls into therapy, much less getting them there willingly.
"Do you have any recommendations?" On that front, Vulcan did have a few people she knew about. Sadly, the closest one in the states was the therapist at Pearl Harbor. Which was still several time zones away, and even if they weren't, finding a gap in their schedule could be difficult. They were at Pearl Harbor for good reason.
"None in Japan, unfortunately," Vulcan frowned. "I'll ask about on that front for you if you'd like."
"Thank you," Isabella's lips twitch upward slightly. Vulcan couldn't quite tell if Isabella was attempting to smile or not. "That would be greatly appreciated."
"You're welcome," Vulcan nodded, as Luzon tugged on Isabella's arm as if to draw her attention. Luzon was her own bag of worms, but Vulcan had heard from Iowa about Isabella's plan.
Leaving Isabella without supervision in the kitchen sounded like a bad idea in Vulcan's mind, but they did need to solve Luzon's food problem. And it wasn't like Isabella's cooking could be any worse than Hiei's.
"Yes, I'll make sure you get something to eat," Isabella's face was a bit more full when she looked at Luzon. Isabella wasn't quite smiling, but there seemed to be some warmth in her eyes, at least.
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Iowa, thank her soul, managed to lead us to the mess hall, Luzon's stomach gurgling all the while. Any slower and I expected Luzon would try to take a bite out of the wall. However, with a chance to get some real food, I certainly had no intention of going back to metal munching.
But Luzon certainly needed something to eat and had been shooting down just about everything they tried to give her. And while I could cook, I wasn't some type of chief or anything. Most of the cooks were probably better than me, anyway, so I'd have to be creative.
Good news was that I'd managed to find the pasta noodles. Bad news? No lasagna, so my original plan was out. But basic noodles themselves? They were in abundance. If that was the case, then. Yes, yes, good, they had plenty of burger meat. Eggs, a common item in most recipes.
Then I think it was, Parmesan? And mozzarella? Both. It certainly wasn't cheddar or American cheese. Of course, if there was pasta, there had to be pasta sauce. It was, here? Oh, there it is. I'm missing something. Cottage cheese? That would have to be in the fridge. There was simply no other place for it.
Okay, set the pot to boil, and start mixing the other ingredients. Was it thirty minutes in the oven? Forty? No, it was thirty. Definitely thirty.
"Can I help?" Luzon looked up at me. I grinned, ruffling her hair before picking her up and placing her lightly on the island counter, opposite the stove.
"Sure," I grinned slightly, but it felt a bit off. No matter, I had other things to worry about. "If you could let me know when that starts making steam and noise, that would be wonderful."
"Okay!" Luzon nodded, staring at the pot of water as if to make it boil faster. I chuckled to myself. Is this really how my mother felt when I helped her in the kitchen?
It felt. Warm.
Not that he blamed them. The Philippine government in exile was certainly going to have what evacuation records they had very closely by, well, everyone. It wouldn't inherently surprise him if the Philippine people didn't want them back, either. Something had to have gone wrong. He was already running a headcount, a mess in its own right, but it was raising more questions than it answered. They were already at over ten million people accounted for. It is miraculous that they found that many at all, seeing as Abyssal's had controlled the Philippines since near the start of the war.
The aviation battleship wasn't the first Abyssal in charge, either. The Philippine Island Demon, as she was known, had proven to be a considerable thorn in Japan's side. It had taken a combination of Yamato, Musashi, Nagato, and several other ships to beat down, and even then, it'd managed to escape with its life. Nobody had seen it since, despite the fact it sent several ships back to the repair baths. Painting a picture of what happened afterward wasn't too difficult, due to her lack of appearance thus far. Either sank in route, or its fleet turned against it.
Was the former demon doing the same? Or was this just simply due to new management?
It was certainly a cruel mercy if nothing else. He was requesting evacuation records as well, what little of them probably existed. Hopefully, he could get some numbers on how many managed to make it out. But this many being alive? It raised questions. Ones that would likely see calls for a new offensive, an event that could prove disastrous if they overextended.
Of course, if this one aviation battleship had managed to keep this many prisoners alive? Why? What was its goal? Did it even have one? Or was this simply a case of deciding the cruelest thing was to make people suffer, rather than just outright kill them?
And if that was its thought process, how many other Abyssal's were out there in the ocean, doing the same thing? That thought made his blood boil, though he had to keep his anger in check. Many shipgirls were beyond furious. South Dakota especially, though from what he understood, she was doing her best to keep it from the currently repairing ship, which she was also focused on.
Then again, it seemed as if so many balls had been dropped on this front. The fact that the American ships didn't break off to hunt down random fleeing Abyssal's after the camps had come to their attention was a miracle he could only thank Iowa for. But the fact there were numerous prison camps spread throughout the island? He had a hunch, which was why he requested information about the camps built by Japan during the Second World War. Still, he had whatever recon planes and even drones scouring the rest of the islands at this very moment.
He was not going to let things get worse. Not on his watch.
They'd even had to break into their food reserves, simply to get all the freed prisoners the necessities they needed. Thankfully, the relief fleet would be carrying even more food, alongside medical supplies and resources for construction. From there, the Vestal had new marching orders, in the meantime. Mostly acting as a transport itself, ferrying more supplies while being supported by a new fleet squadron. Georgia would remain, but most of the other shipgirls needed to return to Sasebo and Yokosuka.
Which was more than understandable. Sasebo was certainly going to need it, as they would providing considerable support to the reconstruction effort until further bases could be set up. Though he was unsure how many shipgirls could be spared for such a task. He knew the Navy was trying to put new steel hulls in the water. Ones built specifically to fight Abyssal's, freeing up resources from other theaters.
Those were still a long time coming. New, more precise, and quite frankly, closer range weapons were what was needed, not missiles. Quite frankly, more than a few of the designs he'd seen required technology that didn't exist. Yet.
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It was just a checkup. Only a checkup. Nothing more. Nothing less.
That's what I kept telling myself.
So why did it feel like I swallowed an entire flight of butterflies?
I just didn't know. There was no reason I should be this nervous right now. My fingers strained, desperate to dance against the inside of my palm. How bad of an example was I setting right now? Probably something horrendous and awful.
I breathed, trying to calm my beating heart as it thundered inside my ribs.
This wasn't working. I wasn't calming down. My body felt as if each atom was vibrating on its own. I needed a release valve. Tap my fingers, tap my feet.
Well, probably not tap my feet. My eyes skirted away from the dent that had begun to form a few minutes prior. If I tapped my foot anymore, I might just end up punching a hole through the floor. Which would certainly be quite bad. And I didn't need to deal with that on my mind, on top of everything else.
Finally, the door swung open, as a girl with dark hair and eyes I could almost describe as red. Just a little taller than me, so slightly less short, I thought grimly. Still, her outfit wasn't what I expected. It was more suited for a mechanic or an engineer, over a doctor or medic.
Oh. Okay. That makes sense. Great. Not only is my body being dumb, but my brain is also being dumb, too. Good teamwork, guys. Really pulling through for me in my time of need.
She seemed familiar, though. Like, really familiar. That, I've seen you before, I should be able to remember exactly who you are, sort of familiar. But I hadn't seen her before in my life. Right? Whoever she was, she probably didn't and wouldn't appear in Kancolle, due to the game's greater focus on the Japanese navy. And in Azur Lane, light carriers ended up taking over repair ship's healing roll, so I certainly didn't know her from there, either. Vestal was the only United States repair ship present, after all.
So why did she look so familiar? I wanted to get to the bottom of this, but I wasn't getting anywhere quickly.
"Sorry for the wait. I had a meeting with Admiral Richardson about some important details once we arrive back at Sasebo," the repair ship rubbed the back of her head somewhat awkwardly. Sasebo? One of the largest naval bases in Japan, run jointly with the United States Navy? That Sasebo? That's where we were going?
That, well, made sense. It was partially run by the United States, after all. They would be in the best position to pick up my initial distress signal and respond. And it would explain the split in ship's I'd met so far. Two Japanese battleships and two American ones. A joint task force was a good sign, though I had a hard time imagining all the bad blood that built up during the war was entirely gone.
"Shouldn't something like that wait until after Isabella's appointment?" Iowa did raise a good point. This Admiral Richardson? Was he in charge of Sasebo? Over this entire operation? I'd have to probably get him a letter, regardless. I would imagine he was involved in Luzon and I getting rescued, if she was in touch with him.
"I'll inform him next time he contacts me. You know just as well as I do that he's been under no small amount of stress and pressure as of late," the repair ship shook her head. "Honestly, he'll probably be back in touch in an hour or two. Three tops."
Iowa frowned, but simply nodded. Under a lot of pressure? Stress? Neither of those things sounded good. An operation like this would naturally lead to those two being in abundance. But this couldn't be the only cause, right? I mean, figuring out how I got there was probably a logistical nightmare by itself. Especially in the context of having a light cruiser show up in the middle of nowhere.
Safe to say, I'd be answering quite a few questions when I finally got to Sasebo, then. That? That was kind of scary. I didn't want to lie, but there was no way in hell I was mentioning anything about my previous life right now. Nobody would believe me, and my sanity was probably already something the Admiralty would want to look into as is. That would just get me sent on a one-way trip to the loony bin.
"Regardless," she turned towards me. "It's good to see that you're finally up and about. You certainly look a lot better."
"I'm sorry, but I don't remember any of that," I frowned. Maybe that's why she looked familiar? Some sort of unconscious deja vu situation? A brief look flashed across her face.
"Don't be. You were quite out of it. Honestly, it is probably best if you didn't remember," well, if that wasn't ominous. How bad of a state was I in if that's the medical professional's opinion on things?
She was probably right. I didn't want to know.
Though why do I have the sinking suspicion that I embarrassed myself in front of her?
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Vulcan almost frowned. Almost, being the operative term. Isabella's heart rate was a bit on the fast side, with her leg vibrating at nearly a constant pace. Vulcan was pleased in her choice to Luzon accompany Isabella. That way she didn't have to deal with Isabella tapping her fingers, too.
Was this a habit picked up to expend energy, or was it simply due to Isabella being anxious? Or was it both? The latter was certainly likely. Isabella certainly seemed incredibly nervous, possibly going into territory Vulcan would call jumpy, at lack of a better word. Not that she would blame Isabella. Vulcan had expected worse, even after the whole incident with Kongo and Hiei not ending in gunfire.
Frankly, Vulcan knew she was nowhere near qualified enough for this. Thankfully, Luzon, despite her having her own issues that Vulcan was even less qualified to sort out, was proving to be a distraction of sorts. Mutual therapy, maybe? Certainly, something to look into and keep in mind.
But aside from psychological issues that weren't visible yet, Isabella had recovered quite well. Her hull and internal machinery were in good shape, with extensive damage and even neglect being completely repaired. Even her scraped six-inch gun was good as new. Even her human body had been repaired. Outside of her aforementioned elevated heart rate and a slight case of malnutrition, Isabella had nearly fully recovered. There was just one problem.
The scars.
Bright red and angry, they covered much of her upper arms, and finding an unblemished portion of her torso was a difficult task. As she expected, most of them avoided being placed just above internal organs, the most notable being above Isabella's heart and lungs. Very much like the last time Vulcan had seen what had once been stabs and cuts.
While there were certainly shipgirls with scars, Scharnhorst having one on each eye, while Iowa had one, likely due to an explosion in her number-2 turret, for example. Those scars didn't heal in the repair bath, either, but they also appeared to be much older. Far less red and fresh than the ones on Isabella.
However, even comparing cases like that was problematic. Vulcan hadn't heard about scars appearing on a ship, where there were originally none, after a stay in the repair bath before. Repair bath's healed damage and were quite good at it. There were some expectations, but Isabella's wounds had been too recent to qualify for those expectations.
That was concerning. It was certainly beyond Vulcan's ability to explain. Maybe mental effects manifesting in a physical manner? If that was the case, and that was big if, then she should probably be thankful it was manifesting like this, rather than on Isabella's hull. A shipgirl's hull was a representation of their soul, more or less. It sustains permanent damage, well.
That would be considerably bad. A worst-case scenario. Vulcan wasn't quite sure what it would mean, either, to be honest. But she knew it could only mean bad things. At the very minimum, it would mean long-lasting, possibly even lifelong damage that would be difficult, if not impossible, to recover from. At worst?
Vulcan didn't want to even consider the implications brought about by such wounds.
At least these, if her guess was correct, would properly heal as well. Though, without a doubt, it would take a considerable amount of time for Isabella's scars to mend. This only increased the need for therapy in Vulcan's eyes.
"You can put your shirt back on now," Isabella shifted slightly at Vulcan's words, clearly uncomfortable about her current state, and it took a scant few moments for Isabella to throw the borrowed shirt back over her head.
Despite her nerves, Isabella had been quite well behaved. Luzon likely helped in a few more ways than one, but given some of the cruisers, Vulcan had dealt with in the past. The difference between Isabella before and after might as well be night and day, though delirium from pain explained that.
Maybe the reference was nothing more than coincidently mad rambling after all. Vulcan partially doubted it. After all, it was simply far too specific to likely be anything else, even if coincidence was the most logical explanation. But Vulcan was not a big fan of putting much stock in happenstance. It had a tendency for one to simply ignore the difficult questions.
Questions Vulcan would very much like to ask? Certainly. However, whatever questions she had could wait until after Isabella had gone through her debriefing. Vulcan wasn't entirely sure how well that would go. It certainly wouldn't surprise her if they had to back off at certain points.
Though Vulcan had no idea on whether it was entirely due to trauma. Her impression of Isabella had changed drastically. At first, Vulcan had expected Isabella to be much more like her sister, Seattle. Very much a social butterfly, fluttering from one group of people to another. Instead, what she found was someone who was much more reserved. Quiet, maybe?
Vulcan wasn't quite sure how to put it. Isabella didn't seem to inherently dislike human interaction, though Vulcan had concerns the light cruiser might come off that way. Instead of basking in the glow of a social spotlight, as Seattle did, Isabella didn't appear to like the spotlight being on her. Even together with Luzon, they both seemed very quiet. More of enjoyment of one's company in silence?
Was it possible to send word to Seattle to maybe dial it back a bit without Vulcan tipping too much of what's happening? Vulcan wasn't entirely sure. Frankly, on the telling Seattle front, Admiral Richardson was completely on his own. Her only hope was that he didn't wait until the last minute. As to how either of them would react? Seattle would certainly be overjoyed. Isabella? On that front, Vulcan was far less certain.
Having a sibling certainly would be a net positive, at the end of the day. How well would Isabella take Seattle's excitement, though? Isabella was still skittish, and while hopefully, that would fade, Seattle was not exactly subtle. It could lead to the two getting off on the wrong foot. Which was probably the last thing either of the two wanted or needed.
Still, quiet was probably the best word. Isabella generally spoke only when spoken to. She remained silent during Vulcan's brief conversation with Iowa and only engaged once Vulcan's attention had turned to Isabella. Though, it wasn't like Isabella hadn't been paying attention to what was being said. Far from it.
Which brought about Vulcan's last concern. Memory loss. While Vulcan wasn't exactly in a great position to be able to determine how much Isabella had lost. She seemed to have no recollection of their initial meeting, though that isn't any surprise. Given what Isabella had gone through it might be for the best that she didn't remember anything of the events.
That didn't change that memory loss could be a sign for more serious concerns. Brain damage being first and foremost, made even more complicated by the fact repair baths, despite their best efforts, had always been finicky when it came to fixing brain damage. What was caused by battle? Generally fine. However, concussions and similar injuries had to mend the human way. Or simply put, the long, boring way.
It was almost embarrassing how long it'd taken them to realize that. And even long for shipgirls to start acting on that information. Just another thing to keep an eye on, Vulcan supposed. She'd much rather be aware that there might be an unforeseen injury and have some clue as to what it was than any other alternative. But outside of memory loss, Isabella wasn't displaying much else in the way of symptoms, which was a good sign.
"Well, you seem to have completely healed, physically speaking. Some malnutrition, though it shouldn't be anything a return to proper diet won't fix," Vulcan looked up at the cruiser, as Luzon slipped off her lap. "And while it certainly isn't my place, and I don't doubt that the Admiralty will probably sign off on it anyway, but I would consider getting a therapist."
Wait. Vulcan suppressed a frown. She'd forgotten for a moment that Isabella was an unbuilt ship. She likely didn't have any idea what a therapist even was. This was not going to be a conversation Vulcan was going to like having, then. Explaining such a concept would take quite a while.
"I was, thinking about that," Isabella frowned slightly, feet seeming to shift. "For myself, and for Luzon."
Vulcan raised an eyebrow. That was interesting. Most interesting indeed. Not to mention perplexing. Isabella knew what a therapist was? And was considering? Without prompting or orders? The former was strange and certainly would be worth looking into, but the latter? Outright miraculous. Vulcan had heard more than enough horror stories about getting shipgirls into therapy, much less getting them there willingly.
"Do you have any recommendations?" On that front, Vulcan did have a few people she knew about. Sadly, the closest one in the states was the therapist at Pearl Harbor. Which was still several time zones away, and even if they weren't, finding a gap in their schedule could be difficult. They were at Pearl Harbor for good reason.
"None in Japan, unfortunately," Vulcan frowned. "I'll ask about on that front for you if you'd like."
"Thank you," Isabella's lips twitch upward slightly. Vulcan couldn't quite tell if Isabella was attempting to smile or not. "That would be greatly appreciated."
"You're welcome," Vulcan nodded, as Luzon tugged on Isabella's arm as if to draw her attention. Luzon was her own bag of worms, but Vulcan had heard from Iowa about Isabella's plan.
Leaving Isabella without supervision in the kitchen sounded like a bad idea in Vulcan's mind, but they did need to solve Luzon's food problem. And it wasn't like Isabella's cooking could be any worse than Hiei's.
"Yes, I'll make sure you get something to eat," Isabella's face was a bit more full when she looked at Luzon. Isabella wasn't quite smiling, but there seemed to be some warmth in her eyes, at least.
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Iowa, thank her soul, managed to lead us to the mess hall, Luzon's stomach gurgling all the while. Any slower and I expected Luzon would try to take a bite out of the wall. However, with a chance to get some real food, I certainly had no intention of going back to metal munching.
But Luzon certainly needed something to eat and had been shooting down just about everything they tried to give her. And while I could cook, I wasn't some type of chief or anything. Most of the cooks were probably better than me, anyway, so I'd have to be creative.
Good news was that I'd managed to find the pasta noodles. Bad news? No lasagna, so my original plan was out. But basic noodles themselves? They were in abundance. If that was the case, then. Yes, yes, good, they had plenty of burger meat. Eggs, a common item in most recipes.
Then I think it was, Parmesan? And mozzarella? Both. It certainly wasn't cheddar or American cheese. Of course, if there was pasta, there had to be pasta sauce. It was, here? Oh, there it is. I'm missing something. Cottage cheese? That would have to be in the fridge. There was simply no other place for it.
Okay, set the pot to boil, and start mixing the other ingredients. Was it thirty minutes in the oven? Forty? No, it was thirty. Definitely thirty.
"Can I help?" Luzon looked up at me. I grinned, ruffling her hair before picking her up and placing her lightly on the island counter, opposite the stove.
"Sure," I grinned slightly, but it felt a bit off. No matter, I had other things to worry about. "If you could let me know when that starts making steam and noise, that would be wonderful."
"Okay!" Luzon nodded, staring at the pot of water as if to make it boil faster. I chuckled to myself. Is this really how my mother felt when I helped her in the kitchen?
It felt. Warm.
Cooking Time
Iowa had her doubts, but Isabella seemed to be quite the competent chef. Well and beyond what anyone who had never seen a stove before should be. It raised the question of exactly how much Isabella was pulling off her fairy's though. Which brought about considerably more, as fairy's for unbuilt ships oftentimes were as much of a blank slate as the ships themselves.
But what exactly was Isabella making? Iowa watched as Isabella broke apart cow meat on a skillet. She knew it was some form of burger, of course. The smell coming out of the kitchen couldn't be anything else. However, she also knew Isabella wasn't preparing a burger. There was no reason for Isabella to boil water for a simple burger.
A noise managed to draw Iowa's attention away from the cooking cruiser as the doors opened. She still had a few of her crew keep eye contact with Isabella. While it was unlikely the kitchen would explode into chaos by this point, it wouldn't hurt to keep an eye on things. Besides, it wasn't exactly like seemingly competent cooks could make volatile errors. Or in causes like Hiei, errors that seemed to result in food more consistent with toxic sludge, despite looking and seeming completely ordinary.
Iowa frowned. She probably should have warned Isabella about the curry. It wasn't too late. Or maybe it was. Kongo, and the aforementioned Hiei, made their way into the mess, seemingly following the smell of food. What were the odds?
Hopefully, this wasn't going to become a recurring event. Iowa doubted that Isabella planned to make more than enough for Luzon and herself, given the current time. Certainly, nowhere near enough to feed a single battleship, let alone multiple.
"Wow, she's actually doing it," Kongo's head peaked towards the door, gazing through the window near the top.
"I hope the two of you aren't expecting to get food out of this," Iowa looked back in, watching as Isabella picked up Luzon, allowing the smaller girl to place something into the boiling water. Noodles? What type of meal required noodles and meat? Spaghetti and meatballs? They'd already tried that, but did Isabella know? Of course, she could be going for a completely different recipe.
"Of course not, Iowa-san. We would never do such a thing," Hiei sounded very sincere, at least. Unlike Kongo's wink and desu, which made Iowa feel nothing but suspicious. Iowa doubted Kongo would do anything intentionally harmful, owing in part to her and Seattle's strange, yet terrifying friendship.
Iowa simply chuckled to herself. Ultimately, they were trying to keep an eye on Isabella as well, in their own unique way. Still, that didn't mean she could ignore the fact the pair were in a bit of hot water when it came to the cruiser. Risky was putting it mildly. They both knew Isabella had recently returned, and was a paper ship, too boot. They also knew that Luzon had fired on Omaha and her escorting destroyers out of sheer panic. Isabella firing on them would have been a very likely outcome, putting the crew aboard at considerable risk. Sure, the outer armor of the Vestal was tough, but the inside was considerably thinner.
"That looks like a strange recipe," Kongo snuck another peek through the window. "Do you have any idea what she's making?"
"No clue," Iowa shrugged, as Hiei joined her sister in gazing through the window.
"Strange. What is that container?" Hiei's face betrayed her puzzlement. Container? Iowa hadn't seen any container.
Iowa joined, peaking over the pair's heads. In Isabella's hands was. Cottage cheese? They had that on the ship? Since when? Whatever Isabella was making, it wasn't something Iowa ever had before.
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"Isabella!" I turned around at the sound of Luzon calling out my name. "They're watching us!"
What? Who? Luzon was pointing towards one of the doors, with a circular window near the top. But, I didn't see anyone. Though, Luzon wouldn't lie about something like that. Wait, was that? A tuft of blonde hair? Iowa?
You know what. Whatever this was about, I didn't have time for it. In a brief few moments, I walked up to the door and threw an apron over the window. Problem solved.
But what exactly was Isabella making? Iowa watched as Isabella broke apart cow meat on a skillet. She knew it was some form of burger, of course. The smell coming out of the kitchen couldn't be anything else. However, she also knew Isabella wasn't preparing a burger. There was no reason for Isabella to boil water for a simple burger.
A noise managed to draw Iowa's attention away from the cooking cruiser as the doors opened. She still had a few of her crew keep eye contact with Isabella. While it was unlikely the kitchen would explode into chaos by this point, it wouldn't hurt to keep an eye on things. Besides, it wasn't exactly like seemingly competent cooks could make volatile errors. Or in causes like Hiei, errors that seemed to result in food more consistent with toxic sludge, despite looking and seeming completely ordinary.
Iowa frowned. She probably should have warned Isabella about the curry. It wasn't too late. Or maybe it was. Kongo, and the aforementioned Hiei, made their way into the mess, seemingly following the smell of food. What were the odds?
Hopefully, this wasn't going to become a recurring event. Iowa doubted that Isabella planned to make more than enough for Luzon and herself, given the current time. Certainly, nowhere near enough to feed a single battleship, let alone multiple.
"Wow, she's actually doing it," Kongo's head peaked towards the door, gazing through the window near the top.
"I hope the two of you aren't expecting to get food out of this," Iowa looked back in, watching as Isabella picked up Luzon, allowing the smaller girl to place something into the boiling water. Noodles? What type of meal required noodles and meat? Spaghetti and meatballs? They'd already tried that, but did Isabella know? Of course, she could be going for a completely different recipe.
"Of course not, Iowa-san. We would never do such a thing," Hiei sounded very sincere, at least. Unlike Kongo's wink and desu, which made Iowa feel nothing but suspicious. Iowa doubted Kongo would do anything intentionally harmful, owing in part to her and Seattle's strange, yet terrifying friendship.
Iowa simply chuckled to herself. Ultimately, they were trying to keep an eye on Isabella as well, in their own unique way. Still, that didn't mean she could ignore the fact the pair were in a bit of hot water when it came to the cruiser. Risky was putting it mildly. They both knew Isabella had recently returned, and was a paper ship, too boot. They also knew that Luzon had fired on Omaha and her escorting destroyers out of sheer panic. Isabella firing on them would have been a very likely outcome, putting the crew aboard at considerable risk. Sure, the outer armor of the Vestal was tough, but the inside was considerably thinner.
"That looks like a strange recipe," Kongo snuck another peek through the window. "Do you have any idea what she's making?"
"No clue," Iowa shrugged, as Hiei joined her sister in gazing through the window.
"Strange. What is that container?" Hiei's face betrayed her puzzlement. Container? Iowa hadn't seen any container.
Iowa joined, peaking over the pair's heads. In Isabella's hands was. Cottage cheese? They had that on the ship? Since when? Whatever Isabella was making, it wasn't something Iowa ever had before.
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"Isabella!" I turned around at the sound of Luzon calling out my name. "They're watching us!"
What? Who? Luzon was pointing towards one of the doors, with a circular window near the top. But, I didn't see anyone. Though, Luzon wouldn't lie about something like that. Wait, was that? A tuft of blonde hair? Iowa?
You know what. Whatever this was about, I didn't have time for it. In a brief few moments, I walked up to the door and threw an apron over the window. Problem solved.
Hylas
Veni apud me, Frater!
Really? That's... Well, it sounds like a lot, and a tenth of the phillippine population *is* a lot, but it's less than I thought it was.
Also the cooking was adorable. Thanks for the hard work!
- Location
- Dodging chaos dragons in Limbo
Now I want to see the indignant reaction from the onlookers at their entertainment being cut off. Thanks for sharing, this remains an entertaining story.
Chapter 18
It was, cold. It was dark. As a child, I had a fear of the dark. I think all of humanity had that very fear. One, singular, universal truth. Humanity was afraid of the dark, probably going all the way back to humanity's earliest days. We always imagined monsters in the dark. From the inky void of space to locations far closer.
Before the Abyssal War, humanity knew more about its own moon, than it did the deep recesses of Earth's oceans. They knew less, now, the deep now held purely by Abyssals, at depth's humanity could scarcely attempt to reclaim. After all, how could they reclaim what was never theirs in the first place?
I was alone, in that dark. Panic. Fear. Rage.
Dispair.
I thrashed. I struggled. I could do nothing else. I could not tell up from down, but I felt as if I was being dragged further into the oppressive darkness. In the end, there was nothing I could do as the darkness laughed.
There was a flash of light.
Then nothing.
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Light broke upon my face. I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut, hoping to cut off the offensive light. However, even throwing the blanket over had proved fruitless. With a sigh, I resigned myself to the waking world, only for my leg to feel heavier than usual. It wasn't just my leg, either. There was an all too familiar feeling of someone cuddling into my thigh.
A brief peek under the blanket confirmed my suspicions. If it were anyone else besides Luzon, then I'd have been fairly concerned. I didn't want to wake her, but my prior movement was already causing her to stir.
I'm not entirely sure how she got there, to be honest. Luzon had gone with the Destroyers and other smaller craft. She didn't want to, but she put on a brave face anyway. I'd told her to come to find me if she couldn't sleep, which is likely what happened. Luzon let out a cute yawn, looking up towards me, blinking the sleep from her eyes.
"Did you get a good night's sleep?" I asked, smiling slightly. Still not fully awake yet, Luzon only nodded, though her grip on my leg softened, allowing me to wiggle my way free. A chill ran up my spine as my bare feet made contact with the metal floor. It wasn't too cold, but the contrast between the warmth of the sheets and the floor was enough.
Maybe I should wear some of the socks I'd been given to sleep tomorrow? Pausing for a moment before deciding to contemplate the choice of action later, I threw on a hastily assembled outfit. Of course, it wasn't like I had many variations to choose from, having mostly spared military clothing to choose from. Beggars couldn't be choosers, but almost all my shirts went from uncomfortably tight or to unbearably tight.
Why did I have the feeling that I was going to need specialty clothes?
After a few more minutes of getting Luzon properly dressed, her stomach let out a grumble.
"Can I have pineapple pancakes for breakfast?" Luzon asked as we headed towards the mess hall, walking past Ohama and few other cruisers on the way out the door.
"Of course. Just remember, pancakes are breakfast food," I hummed as we made our way down the hall. Luzon made a noise that indicated her disappointment. I bite my lip to stop the chuckle rising from my throat.
Now, which way was it to the mess? I think it was too the right?
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Omaha crossed her arms across her chest at a few of the other cruisers. Under normal circumstances, Omaha doubted that such a display would accomplish much. Just about every other ship outgunned and had more displacement than she did. However, now more than a few of the cruisers were looking down at their feet, rather than meeting Omaha's fiery gaze.
Hopefully, she didn't have to continue her chastisement of the other cruisers. It was that chastisement that had caused Isabella to wake up in the first place. Omaha didn't realize the lump on one of the beds had been Isabella. If she had, Ohama would have taken the conversation elsewhere.
Isabella waking up alongside Luzon brought the conservation to a halt. It wasn't like they were going to talk about her when she was right there. Especially with the topic of the conversation being Luzon.
"Look, I get it. But that doesn't change what the rules say!" Omaha rolled her eyes. If it was one of the Japanese cruisers, she might be able to understand why they were so anal about the rules. The Japanese navy had been a stickler for rules, order, and rank. But they were an American one, so even that poor excuse didn't exist.
"Look, lawful stupid," Ohama's eye's narrowed, ignoring the indignant squawk from the offending cruiser. "How many of us got any sleep last night until Luzon decided to cuddle up with Isabella gain? Come on, a show of hands."
Nobody did raise their hand. More looked at their feet, however. Omaha didn't know if it was out of shame or fear, but she didn't care, either.
"Yeah, that's what I thought. And it wouldn't surprise me if the same can be said about the Destroyers as well," Omaha let out a huff. "So, here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to talk with the Admiral in charge. I'm going to explain why letting Luzon stay here will benefit everyone here. I'm going to do all that, and you guys are going to deal with it. Am I clear?"
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"Thank you," my feet shifted as we finally arrived. I'd like to say that we'd gotten there without issue. That no problems came up and that it was a simple straight shot down the hall. I'd be lying if I acted as if that were true. But that would just commit faulty memories to my brain, and this whole song and dance would be done again.
I'd pretty much got lost right off the bat. It had been a left, not a right. And several other turns through the cramped corridors, for that matter. I'd almost started to panic before I managed to spot a familiar face, South Dakota. She'd been talking to a battleship with short black hair and eyes two different colors. One yellow and the other blue. Wasn't that condition called heterochromia?
Regardless, after I'd arrived, out of breath with Luzon in tow, I asked for help. The dark-haired battleship had gone, somewhere. I wasn't even sure when she left our little group. But South Dakota not only graciously gave us directions but also escorted us there.
"Your welcome," South Dakota nodded, as I watched Luzon make a blitz towards the pancakes. I certainly could go for a few myself, but my eyes were drawn towards the scrambled eggs. And, of course, the bacon. One could not forget the bacon. Unhealthy and greasy? Absolutely. That's part of why it was so good!
I really needed to try and get some protein into Luzon, though. My baked spaghetti recipe may call for some burger, but it still wasn't a whole lot. Eggs were out if the crinkle of her nose was anything to go by. Bacon got a similar response, confirming some of my fears.
However, Luzon's eyes lingered over a few cups with plastic spoons sticking out. I made a note to take a look when I went through the line. If it was something like yogurt, then my answer was staring me right in the face. Now that I think about it, even milk could provide at least some protein. Milkshakes were an option, but ice cream did have a lot of sugar. Giving Luzon sugar in anything larger than small amounts was something I was reluctant to do, to say the least.
"Do you have any time to join us?" I looked up at South Dakota, puzzled. It looked like it was a bit later in the morning. Which, note to self, buy a watch or phone as soon as I could. Would make keeping track of time a non-issue. But South Dakota didn't look busy, either. Plus, she's a battleship. With the way Luzon and I put away food, she probably needed a whole lot more than we did.
There was a flicker on South Dakota's face. An almost internal debate played out behind her eyes. I frowned. It was a bit of a long shot. She seemed like the type to quietly enjoy another's company, but South Dakota was a battleship. A critical piece of the fleet. People probably wanted her ready for combat at a moment's notice right now. So she was probably a bit too busy to get away with something like that.
"I think I can make the time for it," South Dakota gave me a slight smile.
"Thank you," I did my best to return her grin.
If I paid enough attention to her expression, I'd have realized just how badly I failed.
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"How is she taking it?"
"How well do you think she's taking it?"
"Shush! They're going to notice!"
Three cruisers poked their heads around the door, keeping watch on the Admiral and Seattle. They'd heard the rumors. Seattle was probably one of the few people that hadn't. The cruiser information network was extremely good at what it did. No matter how tight-lipped people were, things would slip out. Intentional or accidental.
They had to work very hard on making sure Seattle didn't hear any of the rumors, and if she had been in greater contact with the cruiser information network, she probably would have. But, for the time being, they'd done their job and done it well. Now, it was time to see if the rumors held any merit.
Which, by the fact that Admiral Richardson had called to meet Seattle, alone, was likely the case. Unless one put any stock in that other rumor mill, there wasn't much of a reason for him to do otherwise.
Now, it was just a simple waiting game. A game of patience and stealth. They couldn't use most of their equipment, either. Much too close, running the risk of being discovered.
Only snippets of conversation floated by. It was hard not to notice the little things. The grimness in Admiral Richardson's expression. The gradual tightening of Seattle's fists.
It was only a few moments after Admiral Richardson stopped talking before the shouting began.
"You know, the fact I've never seen Seattle angry before makes this all the scarier."
"Should we do something?"
"I'll go get Bremerton. And some ice cream."
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"So, how'd the talk with Seattle go?" Admiral Richardson, professionalism be damned, shot a nasty look at Vulcan. Vulcan asking the question was a sign that she knew exactly how well that conversation went. Even without the smug look on her face.
"Better than I feared, worse than I hoped," that was the truth. Richardson had never seen Seattle get like that before. Her anger at worst was maybe a slight elevation in her voice. This time, she was outright livid. He'd almost describe it as scary. Off the records, of course. It wasn't like Richardson was in any danger, but to see Seattle angry? That was not an emotion he'd seen her display and was not one he was in any hurry to see again.
It was always the nice ones, he swore.
"And, how exactly are Isabella and Luzon?" Vulcan's smug expression changed into a much more somber one.
"To quote you? Better than I feared, worse than I hoped," Vulcan sighed. "The fact she's already considering therapy without any prompting is at least a good sign. But I'm starting to think Isabella is worse off than she thinks she is, and she's under no illusions that she's close to well."
Richardson's eyebrow raised. Great. More bad news.
"Isabella's had a hard time navigating around. She hasn't gotten lost. At least, not yet, and I'm worried about what will happen when she ultimately does. I'm currently working on getting some guide system set up for the two."
"And as for their sleep?" the number of expletives that came out of Vulcans mouth was enough to tell Richardson that he was going to love this.
"Omaha has already put forth a request for Luzon to move into the cruiser quarters for the remainder of the trip. One I recommend is carried on when they arrive at the dorms. Both Luzon and Isabella both suffer from night terrors that only seem to be soothed with each other's presence," Vulcan flipped through a stack of papers, likely reports. "What's really concerning is what South Dakota told me about an hour ago."
"Go on," Richardson prompted, a deep feeling in his gut.
"After finding Isabella lost in one of the hallways, South Dakota lead her and Luzon back to the mess hall. Isabella asked South Dakota if she was like to join them for breakfast," this, didn't seem so bad. Surely, seeking out social interaction was a good sign, right?
"South Dakota said, that when she accepted, Isabella tried to smile at her," Richardson paused for a moment.
"Tried?"
"Yes sir," Vulcan's curtness was striking. "South Dakota described it as more of a blank look than anything else. But she felt like Isabella was trying to give something like a grin."
That sounded, problematic. A British understatement to is sure. At least Isabella was considering therapy. Jesus. How bad were things that a willingness to see a therapist could be considered a silver lining?
"Thoughts?"
Vulcan let out a sigh.
"I don't think her ability to feel emotion is impaired. At least, not that much, if that is your concern. Depression will probably be an issue going forward, though I'd rather Isabella get diagnosed by a trained professional, compared to my untrained shelf. As for where it came from?" Vulcan's shoulders sagged. Richardson would scarcely call it a shrug. It was more of a heave than anything else. "I not certain. South Dakota is the only person to report the issue, so it's a recent development."
"Isabella's not going to be ready for debriefing, is she?" Richardson frowned, more of a statement than a question. The brass wanted answers, not that he blamed them, and he was only capable of doing so much when it can to stalling for time. As much as Richardson would sooner avoid forcing Isabella to relive her trauma so soon.
"So long as you don't question her on what happened after she was captured, it'd probably go a lot better than you'd think," Vulcan's words nearly made Richardson bite on his tongue to keep from swearing. Part of the reason was specifically just that. What happened while she was captured. Yes, exactly how Isabella ended up in the middle of the South Pacific was a question that many wanted to be answered. One of the biggest.
But what exactly the Abyssal wanted was another. Simply in part due to the strangeness of it all. Abyssal's simply did not take prisoners. At least, as far as they knew. A few, very minor elements had raised concerns that this whole event was some type of false flag operation, to get a plant on the inside.
Mercifully, most of those people had been told to shut up. Richardson could only imagine the damage that could have been done if they tried to talk with Isabella. He could see it either ending in a complete mental breakdown or a fist to the jaw. Neither of those things going partially well.
"Really?" Still, that didn't sound exactly right.
"I don't see why not. That would be the first major trauma point, right? Waking up alone may have shaken her up a bit, but I can't think of anything else that would be traumatizing until that point," Vulcan frowned. "Not accounting for anything weird, of course. Which wouldn't surprise me if that's likely."
"Oh?" Richardson prompted, though internally, he was about to place his head in his hands.
"I. It's," Vulcan let out a groan of frustration. "Look, there's no other way to put this, and none of us have any clue how she can do it, so I'm just going to say it. Isabella knows how to cook. Not as in over a fire, because that would at least make some sense. I'm talking about using an oven, here."
That was not what Richardson had expected. A statement, that at first glance, likely seemed innocuous. Unless one was familiar with shipgirls, it was an extremely innocuous statement.
But for those familiar? It was anything but. Most shipgirls had some basic knowledge, most of the meals that their cooks had known. Occasionally you got someone with a post-war chief that could make so more complicated recipes. With paper ships, like Isabella, you had none of that knowledge.
That's how it was supposed to work.
"How likely is it that it's just a case of shipgirl magic?" Richardson already doubted that simple shipgirl strangeness was at play. However, he wanted it on record, just in case, someone did try to brush it off as simply that.
"Come on," Vulcan let out a snort. "You know just as well as I do the odds of that being the case are next too, if not past, zero."
"Humor me, if you will," Vulcan's face turned into a proper scowl.
"Anyone who wants to chalk this whole thing up to 'shipgirl magic', is full of several types of feces, sir," Vulcan ground out. "Despite all its strangeness, 'shipgirl magic' has rules to it. There is a method to the madness, but there are patterns to it as well. What Isabella is doing violates most of what we know. This type of behavior? If she saw someone cook and merely had picked up the skill, then maybe Isabella could be written off as a fast learner. But to our knowledge, nobody has taught her any of this. Her crew shouldn't be able to teach her, either."
"There is more going on here. I'm not sure what. We just have far too many blanks on Isabella at this point to even attempt to start piecing things together," Vulcan let out a sigh.
"Amnesia? Maybe she was on one of the islands, awakened, made an escape, lost her memory, then went back?" Richardson was spitballing at this point.
"If that were the case, then her fairies would have likely stepped in to stop her from heading back, or tried to, which we have no evidence of. Plus, adding to the strangeness is the fact she chose her name."
No, Richardson had not forgotten that piece of information. If it wasn't for her being captured, finding out how exactly Isabella managed to pull that off had been one of the biggest questions the brass wanted answered. Just one more on the preverbal mountain.
"And what about Luzon?" Vulcan flipped through a few more papers.
"No mysteries with her. Luzon's pretty much a ball of trauma walking around in the body of a six-year-old. If Isabella's nearby, she's less scared and at least willing to tolerate others. Without Isabella? Luzon becomes borderline phobic of anything larger than an American Destroyer," Vulcan shook her head. "And that's only slightly better than how she interacts with none-American shipgirls."
"And we're sending them to Sasebo. Great," Richardson resisted the urge to rest his head in his hands. The fact, barring some miracle, that they might be working on Luzon's timetable was concerning enough. A transfer was an option, but it was a double-edged sword, given how separating the two wasn't going to work out. If Isabella was at least trying to make connections, severing them wasn't going to help her recover.
But ultimately, it was a catch-22. A transfer could help Luzon, at least marginally, but it would likely set Isabella back. Which in the long run, wouldn't do Luzon much good, either, especially as attached as they were.
Something to put a pin in, Richardson supposed. If they were lucky, maybe Luzon would similarly take to Seattle.
He could certainly hope.
"At least they'll be back at safe port soon enough," Richardson let out a sigh.
"Please, do not try taunting Murphy right now," Vulcan almost mimicked his slump. "A lot can happen in a few days, and you know it."
Before the Abyssal War, humanity knew more about its own moon, than it did the deep recesses of Earth's oceans. They knew less, now, the deep now held purely by Abyssals, at depth's humanity could scarcely attempt to reclaim. After all, how could they reclaim what was never theirs in the first place?
I was alone, in that dark. Panic. Fear. Rage.
Dispair.
I thrashed. I struggled. I could do nothing else. I could not tell up from down, but I felt as if I was being dragged further into the oppressive darkness. In the end, there was nothing I could do as the darkness laughed.
There was a flash of light.
Then nothing.
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Light broke upon my face. I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut, hoping to cut off the offensive light. However, even throwing the blanket over had proved fruitless. With a sigh, I resigned myself to the waking world, only for my leg to feel heavier than usual. It wasn't just my leg, either. There was an all too familiar feeling of someone cuddling into my thigh.
A brief peek under the blanket confirmed my suspicions. If it were anyone else besides Luzon, then I'd have been fairly concerned. I didn't want to wake her, but my prior movement was already causing her to stir.
I'm not entirely sure how she got there, to be honest. Luzon had gone with the Destroyers and other smaller craft. She didn't want to, but she put on a brave face anyway. I'd told her to come to find me if she couldn't sleep, which is likely what happened. Luzon let out a cute yawn, looking up towards me, blinking the sleep from her eyes.
"Did you get a good night's sleep?" I asked, smiling slightly. Still not fully awake yet, Luzon only nodded, though her grip on my leg softened, allowing me to wiggle my way free. A chill ran up my spine as my bare feet made contact with the metal floor. It wasn't too cold, but the contrast between the warmth of the sheets and the floor was enough.
Maybe I should wear some of the socks I'd been given to sleep tomorrow? Pausing for a moment before deciding to contemplate the choice of action later, I threw on a hastily assembled outfit. Of course, it wasn't like I had many variations to choose from, having mostly spared military clothing to choose from. Beggars couldn't be choosers, but almost all my shirts went from uncomfortably tight or to unbearably tight.
Why did I have the feeling that I was going to need specialty clothes?
After a few more minutes of getting Luzon properly dressed, her stomach let out a grumble.
"Can I have pineapple pancakes for breakfast?" Luzon asked as we headed towards the mess hall, walking past Ohama and few other cruisers on the way out the door.
"Of course. Just remember, pancakes are breakfast food," I hummed as we made our way down the hall. Luzon made a noise that indicated her disappointment. I bite my lip to stop the chuckle rising from my throat.
Now, which way was it to the mess? I think it was too the right?
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Omaha crossed her arms across her chest at a few of the other cruisers. Under normal circumstances, Omaha doubted that such a display would accomplish much. Just about every other ship outgunned and had more displacement than she did. However, now more than a few of the cruisers were looking down at their feet, rather than meeting Omaha's fiery gaze.
Hopefully, she didn't have to continue her chastisement of the other cruisers. It was that chastisement that had caused Isabella to wake up in the first place. Omaha didn't realize the lump on one of the beds had been Isabella. If she had, Ohama would have taken the conversation elsewhere.
Isabella waking up alongside Luzon brought the conservation to a halt. It wasn't like they were going to talk about her when she was right there. Especially with the topic of the conversation being Luzon.
"Look, I get it. But that doesn't change what the rules say!" Omaha rolled her eyes. If it was one of the Japanese cruisers, she might be able to understand why they were so anal about the rules. The Japanese navy had been a stickler for rules, order, and rank. But they were an American one, so even that poor excuse didn't exist.
"Look, lawful stupid," Ohama's eye's narrowed, ignoring the indignant squawk from the offending cruiser. "How many of us got any sleep last night until Luzon decided to cuddle up with Isabella gain? Come on, a show of hands."
Nobody did raise their hand. More looked at their feet, however. Omaha didn't know if it was out of shame or fear, but she didn't care, either.
"Yeah, that's what I thought. And it wouldn't surprise me if the same can be said about the Destroyers as well," Omaha let out a huff. "So, here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to talk with the Admiral in charge. I'm going to explain why letting Luzon stay here will benefit everyone here. I'm going to do all that, and you guys are going to deal with it. Am I clear?"
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"Thank you," my feet shifted as we finally arrived. I'd like to say that we'd gotten there without issue. That no problems came up and that it was a simple straight shot down the hall. I'd be lying if I acted as if that were true. But that would just commit faulty memories to my brain, and this whole song and dance would be done again.
I'd pretty much got lost right off the bat. It had been a left, not a right. And several other turns through the cramped corridors, for that matter. I'd almost started to panic before I managed to spot a familiar face, South Dakota. She'd been talking to a battleship with short black hair and eyes two different colors. One yellow and the other blue. Wasn't that condition called heterochromia?
Regardless, after I'd arrived, out of breath with Luzon in tow, I asked for help. The dark-haired battleship had gone, somewhere. I wasn't even sure when she left our little group. But South Dakota not only graciously gave us directions but also escorted us there.
"Your welcome," South Dakota nodded, as I watched Luzon make a blitz towards the pancakes. I certainly could go for a few myself, but my eyes were drawn towards the scrambled eggs. And, of course, the bacon. One could not forget the bacon. Unhealthy and greasy? Absolutely. That's part of why it was so good!
I really needed to try and get some protein into Luzon, though. My baked spaghetti recipe may call for some burger, but it still wasn't a whole lot. Eggs were out if the crinkle of her nose was anything to go by. Bacon got a similar response, confirming some of my fears.
However, Luzon's eyes lingered over a few cups with plastic spoons sticking out. I made a note to take a look when I went through the line. If it was something like yogurt, then my answer was staring me right in the face. Now that I think about it, even milk could provide at least some protein. Milkshakes were an option, but ice cream did have a lot of sugar. Giving Luzon sugar in anything larger than small amounts was something I was reluctant to do, to say the least.
"Do you have any time to join us?" I looked up at South Dakota, puzzled. It looked like it was a bit later in the morning. Which, note to self, buy a watch or phone as soon as I could. Would make keeping track of time a non-issue. But South Dakota didn't look busy, either. Plus, she's a battleship. With the way Luzon and I put away food, she probably needed a whole lot more than we did.
There was a flicker on South Dakota's face. An almost internal debate played out behind her eyes. I frowned. It was a bit of a long shot. She seemed like the type to quietly enjoy another's company, but South Dakota was a battleship. A critical piece of the fleet. People probably wanted her ready for combat at a moment's notice right now. So she was probably a bit too busy to get away with something like that.
"I think I can make the time for it," South Dakota gave me a slight smile.
"Thank you," I did my best to return her grin.
If I paid enough attention to her expression, I'd have realized just how badly I failed.
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"How is she taking it?"
"How well do you think she's taking it?"
"Shush! They're going to notice!"
Three cruisers poked their heads around the door, keeping watch on the Admiral and Seattle. They'd heard the rumors. Seattle was probably one of the few people that hadn't. The cruiser information network was extremely good at what it did. No matter how tight-lipped people were, things would slip out. Intentional or accidental.
They had to work very hard on making sure Seattle didn't hear any of the rumors, and if she had been in greater contact with the cruiser information network, she probably would have. But, for the time being, they'd done their job and done it well. Now, it was time to see if the rumors held any merit.
Which, by the fact that Admiral Richardson had called to meet Seattle, alone, was likely the case. Unless one put any stock in that other rumor mill, there wasn't much of a reason for him to do otherwise.
Now, it was just a simple waiting game. A game of patience and stealth. They couldn't use most of their equipment, either. Much too close, running the risk of being discovered.
Only snippets of conversation floated by. It was hard not to notice the little things. The grimness in Admiral Richardson's expression. The gradual tightening of Seattle's fists.
It was only a few moments after Admiral Richardson stopped talking before the shouting began.
"You know, the fact I've never seen Seattle angry before makes this all the scarier."
"Should we do something?"
"I'll go get Bremerton. And some ice cream."
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"So, how'd the talk with Seattle go?" Admiral Richardson, professionalism be damned, shot a nasty look at Vulcan. Vulcan asking the question was a sign that she knew exactly how well that conversation went. Even without the smug look on her face.
"Better than I feared, worse than I hoped," that was the truth. Richardson had never seen Seattle get like that before. Her anger at worst was maybe a slight elevation in her voice. This time, she was outright livid. He'd almost describe it as scary. Off the records, of course. It wasn't like Richardson was in any danger, but to see Seattle angry? That was not an emotion he'd seen her display and was not one he was in any hurry to see again.
It was always the nice ones, he swore.
"And, how exactly are Isabella and Luzon?" Vulcan's smug expression changed into a much more somber one.
"To quote you? Better than I feared, worse than I hoped," Vulcan sighed. "The fact she's already considering therapy without any prompting is at least a good sign. But I'm starting to think Isabella is worse off than she thinks she is, and she's under no illusions that she's close to well."
Richardson's eyebrow raised. Great. More bad news.
"Isabella's had a hard time navigating around. She hasn't gotten lost. At least, not yet, and I'm worried about what will happen when she ultimately does. I'm currently working on getting some guide system set up for the two."
"And as for their sleep?" the number of expletives that came out of Vulcans mouth was enough to tell Richardson that he was going to love this.
"Omaha has already put forth a request for Luzon to move into the cruiser quarters for the remainder of the trip. One I recommend is carried on when they arrive at the dorms. Both Luzon and Isabella both suffer from night terrors that only seem to be soothed with each other's presence," Vulcan flipped through a stack of papers, likely reports. "What's really concerning is what South Dakota told me about an hour ago."
"Go on," Richardson prompted, a deep feeling in his gut.
"After finding Isabella lost in one of the hallways, South Dakota lead her and Luzon back to the mess hall. Isabella asked South Dakota if she was like to join them for breakfast," this, didn't seem so bad. Surely, seeking out social interaction was a good sign, right?
"South Dakota said, that when she accepted, Isabella tried to smile at her," Richardson paused for a moment.
"Tried?"
"Yes sir," Vulcan's curtness was striking. "South Dakota described it as more of a blank look than anything else. But she felt like Isabella was trying to give something like a grin."
That sounded, problematic. A British understatement to is sure. At least Isabella was considering therapy. Jesus. How bad were things that a willingness to see a therapist could be considered a silver lining?
"Thoughts?"
Vulcan let out a sigh.
"I don't think her ability to feel emotion is impaired. At least, not that much, if that is your concern. Depression will probably be an issue going forward, though I'd rather Isabella get diagnosed by a trained professional, compared to my untrained shelf. As for where it came from?" Vulcan's shoulders sagged. Richardson would scarcely call it a shrug. It was more of a heave than anything else. "I not certain. South Dakota is the only person to report the issue, so it's a recent development."
"Isabella's not going to be ready for debriefing, is she?" Richardson frowned, more of a statement than a question. The brass wanted answers, not that he blamed them, and he was only capable of doing so much when it can to stalling for time. As much as Richardson would sooner avoid forcing Isabella to relive her trauma so soon.
"So long as you don't question her on what happened after she was captured, it'd probably go a lot better than you'd think," Vulcan's words nearly made Richardson bite on his tongue to keep from swearing. Part of the reason was specifically just that. What happened while she was captured. Yes, exactly how Isabella ended up in the middle of the South Pacific was a question that many wanted to be answered. One of the biggest.
But what exactly the Abyssal wanted was another. Simply in part due to the strangeness of it all. Abyssal's simply did not take prisoners. At least, as far as they knew. A few, very minor elements had raised concerns that this whole event was some type of false flag operation, to get a plant on the inside.
Mercifully, most of those people had been told to shut up. Richardson could only imagine the damage that could have been done if they tried to talk with Isabella. He could see it either ending in a complete mental breakdown or a fist to the jaw. Neither of those things going partially well.
"Really?" Still, that didn't sound exactly right.
"I don't see why not. That would be the first major trauma point, right? Waking up alone may have shaken her up a bit, but I can't think of anything else that would be traumatizing until that point," Vulcan frowned. "Not accounting for anything weird, of course. Which wouldn't surprise me if that's likely."
"Oh?" Richardson prompted, though internally, he was about to place his head in his hands.
"I. It's," Vulcan let out a groan of frustration. "Look, there's no other way to put this, and none of us have any clue how she can do it, so I'm just going to say it. Isabella knows how to cook. Not as in over a fire, because that would at least make some sense. I'm talking about using an oven, here."
That was not what Richardson had expected. A statement, that at first glance, likely seemed innocuous. Unless one was familiar with shipgirls, it was an extremely innocuous statement.
But for those familiar? It was anything but. Most shipgirls had some basic knowledge, most of the meals that their cooks had known. Occasionally you got someone with a post-war chief that could make so more complicated recipes. With paper ships, like Isabella, you had none of that knowledge.
That's how it was supposed to work.
"How likely is it that it's just a case of shipgirl magic?" Richardson already doubted that simple shipgirl strangeness was at play. However, he wanted it on record, just in case, someone did try to brush it off as simply that.
"Come on," Vulcan let out a snort. "You know just as well as I do the odds of that being the case are next too, if not past, zero."
"Humor me, if you will," Vulcan's face turned into a proper scowl.
"Anyone who wants to chalk this whole thing up to 'shipgirl magic', is full of several types of feces, sir," Vulcan ground out. "Despite all its strangeness, 'shipgirl magic' has rules to it. There is a method to the madness, but there are patterns to it as well. What Isabella is doing violates most of what we know. This type of behavior? If she saw someone cook and merely had picked up the skill, then maybe Isabella could be written off as a fast learner. But to our knowledge, nobody has taught her any of this. Her crew shouldn't be able to teach her, either."
"There is more going on here. I'm not sure what. We just have far too many blanks on Isabella at this point to even attempt to start piecing things together," Vulcan let out a sigh.
"Amnesia? Maybe she was on one of the islands, awakened, made an escape, lost her memory, then went back?" Richardson was spitballing at this point.
"If that were the case, then her fairies would have likely stepped in to stop her from heading back, or tried to, which we have no evidence of. Plus, adding to the strangeness is the fact she chose her name."
No, Richardson had not forgotten that piece of information. If it wasn't for her being captured, finding out how exactly Isabella managed to pull that off had been one of the biggest questions the brass wanted answered. Just one more on the preverbal mountain.
"And what about Luzon?" Vulcan flipped through a few more papers.
"No mysteries with her. Luzon's pretty much a ball of trauma walking around in the body of a six-year-old. If Isabella's nearby, she's less scared and at least willing to tolerate others. Without Isabella? Luzon becomes borderline phobic of anything larger than an American Destroyer," Vulcan shook her head. "And that's only slightly better than how she interacts with none-American shipgirls."
"And we're sending them to Sasebo. Great," Richardson resisted the urge to rest his head in his hands. The fact, barring some miracle, that they might be working on Luzon's timetable was concerning enough. A transfer was an option, but it was a double-edged sword, given how separating the two wasn't going to work out. If Isabella was at least trying to make connections, severing them wasn't going to help her recover.
But ultimately, it was a catch-22. A transfer could help Luzon, at least marginally, but it would likely set Isabella back. Which in the long run, wouldn't do Luzon much good, either, especially as attached as they were.
Something to put a pin in, Richardson supposed. If they were lucky, maybe Luzon would similarly take to Seattle.
He could certainly hope.
"At least they'll be back at safe port soon enough," Richardson let out a sigh.
"Please, do not try taunting Murphy right now," Vulcan almost mimicked his slump. "A lot can happen in a few days, and you know it."
Chapter 19
What do you mean you lost Isabella!" Vulcan managed to keep her voice down to what could be considered reasonable volume. If it wasn't for one, no two issues that would be within earshot of her shouting, Vulcan would have done so.
"I don't know how it happened, okay? I was guiding her down the hall, and a looked away for a moment, then poof, she's gone, like she never existed in the first place!" Vulcan rested her head in her hands, desperate to alleviate what she knew was going to become a raging headache.
"Then backtrack!" she hissed, taking a quick peek over her shoulder. This was one of those moments that Vulcan wanted to hug whatever destroyer it was that showed Luzon that video of how her mother figure was bridal carried back to the Vestal by South Dakota. Instead of disciplining them so hard, they might never see the light of day again.
Because that's something one should show someone with a literal mountain's worth of trauma, the broken body of the closest thing they had to a family being carried around like a sack.
There was some silver lining in the whole ordeal, as Luzon, either through ignorance or simply just the desire to not think about it, had fixated on something completely different. Upside being that Luzon could handle being in South Dakota's presence. Not long, but long enough they could have Luzon and Isabella doing separate things. For a while, before Luzon's trauma got the best of her and she started to seek out Isabella again.
The downside being Luzon had asked Isabella more than a few questions that caused the cruiser to blush like a tomato. Probably not that big of a downside, given everything else, to be honest. For the moment, Vulcan was a bit more concerned about who exactly thought showing her the video was a bright idea. And how, exactly, did the destroyer in question even get the footage?
"I did!" Vulcan bit her lip to prevent the release of a long line of expletives that her captain would have approved of, but Isabella wouldn't want around Luzon in the first place. Isabella could keep decent pace with the other shipgirls if she let her mouth go, but around Luzon her language was clean. "She must have taken a wrong turn somewhere."
That was exactly what Vulcan didn't want to hear. Leaving Isabella by herself, in a place, she still didn't know how to navigate? Even without the incident a few days back before they were fully underway, Isabella getting lost was one of the last things Vulcan wanted. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Isabella may just connect that feeling of being lost with what she felt when she was tearing her way through the Abyssal base like a rabid animal.
Even if a repeat of that scenario was unlikely, Isabella didn't seem to consciously remember the event. Vulcan wasn't entirely sure just how bad memory loss was in cases like this, but sometimes, people forgot the terrible things they went through for good reason. There was little doubt in her mind that this was one of those scenarios.
A chill went down Vulcan's spine, almost momentarily, as she remembered what South Dakota had told her. About what Isabella had said. How she just repeated 'don't' over and over again. With that and the Abyssal metal plates, it hadn't taken long for Vulcan's thoughts to begin to stew.
They were not pleasant thoughts. Vulcan had heard and even seen numerous conspiracies, or at least, theories, about how shipgirls and Abyssal's were somehow connected. She never put any stock in them, of course. None of them made any sense, so she simply brushed them off. But after this? Vulcan prayed that her thoughts were due to nothing more than overthinking the problem at hand.
If they weren't. Vulcan shuttered. Then they were extremely fortunate that they'd managed to get Isabella away when they did. Or it could have just been the Abyssal in question simply being sadistic, but there was more than a chance that it had a greater goal in mind.
And that chance brought more concerns up to the surface. Greatest of which being Isabella's mental wellbeing. If the wrong admiral got their hands on her, then Isabella would be seriously at risk. Vulcan was almost happy that for the time being, the two would be at Sasebo, rather than return to the states. Richardson was reliable and ran a tight ship, so Vulcan trusted him. While Isabella would possibly spend some time at Yokosuka working for close shore convoy escort, the Japanese shipgirls had nothing but praise for Gato. Though that was an if scenario for the foreseeable future.
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How was a single traumatized cruiser so sneaky? Iowa's arms pumped as she tore down the hall, looking for any sign of the smaller vessel. Sure, Isabella was quiet and easy to overlook, but not like this! She didn't just up and vanish, like a leaf in the wind.
Did she make a wrong turn somewhere? Isabella would have had to, as she'd been standing right next to Iowa for most of their journey. Even then, how far could Isabella have gotten before realizing it? A dozen feet or so?
As it turned out, likely not. Iowa wasn't sure what made Isabella lose focus like that. Something had to have distracted her, as Isabella had outright asked for help navigating around. Isabella had shown at least some awareness of her trauma, so running off intentionally would be abnormal, or at the very least, counterproductive. Something Iowa had no doubts Isabella was aware of.
Seriously, for someone who'd only been alive a few weeks, maybe a month, tops, Isabella had no right to be as introspective as she was. Had no problems asking for help, put up no resistance to requests to seek therapy, hell, even having already begun considering the idea for herself, and Luzon, to boot. It was like Isabella was aware that the pair were traumatized wrecks.
If Isabella had made it to Hawaii, she would have had Arizona to confide in. A mixed bag, given how if the rumblings were true, then Arizona was finally going to get resigned to a new base. Of course, that was a rumor that Iowa had heard more than once over the years. While she agreed it needed to happen, after all, being that close to your corpse would be traumatizing enough. Let alone being by it whenever you stepped outside or headed out on a mission.
However, the older dreadnought had been incredibly stubborn about staying put, so Iowa had no idea what would come of it. Of course, in that scenario, Luzon would still be trapped in the Philippines with those monsters with nobody none the wiser. And Luzon was an absolute Sweety Petey that didn't deserve any of the terrible things that had happened to her.
Including the possible freak out if Iowa didn't find Isabella soon. Seriously! Where was she! Iowa had already covered more than half the level. She was seriously potentially considering that Isabella had managed to go up or down the stairs at some point, putting her on a completely different deck.
If that was the case, then Isabella could be just about anywhere on the ship. Iowa was going to have to call in support for this, wasn't she? Honestly, something Iowa was reluctant to do. Isabella wasn't a danger, or at least, much of one. But if she got scared and lashed out? If the person who brought on such a reaction was human?
Things could be, bad. Really bad.
She was just about ready to request additional assistance in the matter over her radio. There were at least a few cruisers and destroyers that could be willing to lend a hand, including William D. Porter. Instead, a message came through to her, informing her that Isabella had been spotted close by, with the Vestal's crew keeping watch.
Iowa almost demanded why they hadn't tried guiding Isabella back, but bit her tongue. Spooking a traumatized person with the strength of a light cruiser was a troubling prospect. Taking shipgirls by surprise was that in general, and there were more than a few incidents people had gotten seriously injured, especially around new summons who'd yet to control their strength. So there was a reason, likely a good one, that they were keeping their distance. As cold as it may have been.
And it probably was a good thing. Isabella had curled up into a ball, back against the wall, with her knees grasped to her chest. Her body visibly quaked, almost as if she were rocking back in forth. As Iowa approached, Isabella's voice began to reach her ears, far deeper than her normal tone, almost as if the girl was possessed.
"Can't find a way out. Can't find a way out. Can't find an escape. Need to get out. Need to get free," over and over, as if those words were some kind of anchor. It didn't take a genius to figure out what Isabella was referring to, either. As angry as Iowa was that nobody had made a move to comfort Isabella, it wasn't a secret at this point what had happened before they rescued her. Tearing apart Abyssals with one's bare hands tended to give one a reputation. A reputation that went both ways.
Shipgirls did tend to get a bit of leeway, for several reasons. But seriously injuring or even killing a service member? That was something the brass wouldn't overlook. And there was little doubt in Iowa's mind that if Isabella did go that far, that the light cruiser wouldn't forgive herself.
Regardless, Iowa approached the girl cautiously. Isabella's punches might as well be love taps against her armor belt, even if she swung at full power. Her guns could prove to be an issue, however, mercifully, Isabella's rigging hadn't been activated. But startling or shocking her would be bad either way.
Slowly, Iowa knelt in front of Isabella, the girl seemingly unaware of her presence, her forehead resting on the top of her knees.
"Bella, it's me, Iowa. Are you okay?" she reached out gently, keeping a steady pace. It wasn't until her fingers brushed lightly against Isabella's shoulders that Iowa a response. Isabella's head jerked upright, her eye's nearly as big as saucers, completely dominated by fear and panic. Her gasp was sharp and brief, echoing down the corridor, a sound that could be described as haunting.
Isabella's legs flailed, kicking backward, as if pushing herself into the wall, almost in a struggle to hide from something that only Isabella could see.
Slowly, Isabella's erratic breathing steadied, the sheen of fear clouding her eyes receding, as her frame shuttered, finally becoming aware of the world around her. Instead of whatever visions she had been locked inside.
"Iowa?" Isabella's voice was faint, almost hoarse as if she'd been screaming. Iowa had to stop a frown from appearing on her face. Isabella very well could have been releasing shrieks of terror and panic this entire time. Her voice didn't get in such a state just simply due to her panicked breathing. Meaning Iowa, somehow, hadn't heard Isabella at all. With the metal hallways, that should have been impossible.
The sound reverberated all too easily for that to be an issue. Having a hard time tracking such noise back to its source? Iowa could believe that. She couldn't believe noise would simply vanish into thin air. That she wouldn't have been able to hear Isabella's cries for help.
"It's okay, you're safe now," Iowa comforted, the small cruiser, helping her onto her feet, as Isabella's legs shook. She made a little gesture with her head, signaling the rest of the crew to stop observing the two. As rational as a decision as it was, Iowa didn't want Isabella to come away with the wrong impression right now.
"It's not okay," Isabella seemed to mutter to herself, gazing down at her feet. Iowa winced. To say Isabella was okay would be a lie, with this only cementing it even further. The worst part was, Iowa couldn't exactly deny it, either. Even for Isabella's sake. Iowa was certain that a willingness to lie to Isabella would probably make things even worse.
"But it will be," Isabella paused at Iowa's statement as if processing the statement. She wasn't okay now. Probably wouldn't be what passed as okay for some time, in truth.
But that wasn't to say Isabella would be okay at some point in the future. Being well would be even further off than the future. But Iowa knew Isabella could get there, in time.
However, that would take time, and Iowa had no reservations about how long it would take. In place of time, she had an alternate solution.
Cuddle therapy. Ideally with Luzon included.
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"Is that? Mario Kart?" Vulcan stared in almost disbelief, watching as Isabella deftly navigated her character through the scores of others on screen, deftly maneuvering out of the way of a shell sent her way, likely by one of the destroyers that were also playing with her.
Isabella hadn't noticed her statement or arrival, eyes locked on the screen in intense concentration, but Vulcan couldn't miss the grin on her face. It was no toothy grin by any stretch of the imagination, but her face was filled with far more happiness than Vulcan had seen so far. Luzon was perched in Isabella's lap, the young girl enjoying the carnage Isabella was engaging in.
Luzon's eyes were slightly red, however, and Vulcan was already putting the pieces together of what exactly had happened. She had lost, quite possibly, badly, maybe even repeatedly, and Isabella decided to step up and get some revenge. Normally, Vulcan would condone Isabella for such actions. Destroyers were far more mature than anyone of their age looked, but they still could prove to be just like human children. Hyperactive, rambunctious, and oftentimes, all too competitive. Turnabout was for than fair play, if that was the case.
"How did this happen, exactly?" Vulcan rubbed her temple, filing away another piece of information into the 'Isabella makes no sense' folder that had begun building up in her brain. Because this was starting to reach the point where she would accept outright magic as an answer. There was scarcely anything else left. Besides the whole, Isabella is a natural-born with amnesia, hypotheses which they wouldn't even get insight into whether or not it was true until they reached landfall. And there was a sinking feeling that the hypothesis would find itself with more holes blown in its side by the time that conversation was over and done.
A basic understanding of not only modern concepts but that the war was over in its entirety. Combined with knowledge of what was a recipe that wasn't fairly complex, but completely off the top of her head, and now, a sudden knowledge of how to play video games? Sure, a game like Mario Kart was far from complex but this didn't just happen randomly. Isabella knew about things, that as a newly summoned shipgirl, she clearly shouldn't know. There had to be something Vulcan was overlooking. Some critical detail she was missing.
Well, there was, that. But Vulcan silently brushed off the idea. It was several different types of crazy, almost bordering on insane. There was absolutely no way that was the case. It would go against everything that they'd known about shipgirl summoning.
But there was a treacherous little whisper at the back of her mind. One she couldn't simply just shake away. How would they know about whatever summoning had brought forth Isabella, if none had managed to survive?
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"Is that?" A cry reverberated off the walls, bouncing across the labyrinth of steel corridors that connected the vessel's interior. I bolted in an instant, running towards the source of the noise, ignoring Iowa's shouting behind me as a broke forward at breakneck speed.
Luzon. The source was Luzon. I had no idea how I knew. I just did.
And thus? I simply moved. Homing in the noise as it were a beacon. I weaved through the crampt and crowded hallways, taking great care to not step on the shoes of the numerous servicemen and women that were in my path. Or, at least, I thought I did. There were more important things on my mind than a few bruised toes.
It had scarcely been a miniature since I'd left the fast battleship in the dust before I arrived at the scene. Luzon was on the ground, crying, with South Dakota trying to comfort Luzon, largely ineffectively. The dark-skinned battleship wore an expression of panic, trying to figure out what to do.
Immediately, I scooped Luzon up into my arms, letting her head rest against my shoulder.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! It's my fault," I could hardly make out Luzon's words as they broke through her sobs, each a knife right into my heart.
"It's okay. Nothing is your fault," I rocked Luzon gently back and forth, as tears began to seep into my shirt. She continued to cry, but Luzon stopped talking, frame trembling in my arms.
Quickly, I began to look around for the source of Luzon's distress. It wasn't South Dakota, or, at least, it didn't look like it had been South Dakota. The only other person nearby was.
My eyes narrowed into slits. I wasn't quite glaring, or at least, I hadn't started glaring. Yet. The servicewomen's feet shifted awkwardly as if she'd been standing around for the while affair. There was an embarrassed, if not outright guilty look on her face. Accident, maybe?
Did it matter though? She made Luzon cry! Still, getting visibly mad at the woman, or even expressing it verbally, could upset Luzon even more! I paused for a moment, taking in her features. Her hair was straighter than Luzon's but very similar in color, if not identical. The same could be said for their skin, being similar in pigmentation. It wasn't a sign of anything.
But what if Luzon thought it was a sign of something? The crease on my face grew. If Luzon thought that she might have been of Philippine descent, then. Then.
She might have not had to do anything to make Luzon cry. Muscles loosened all across my face, releasing the scowl I hadn't realized was there. It's possibly not even her fault. That she hadn't gone out of her way to make Luzon cry.
Regardless, she still made Luzon cry. It took everything in my power to stop my face from twisting back up again.
"Wow, you're nimble when you want to be," I shot Iowa a glare as Luzon let out a hiccup, body quaking in my arms. Luzon had only just stopped crying, though she was still sniffling, Iowa's arrival, one that lacked any subtlety, must have startled her.
"Right, sorry," Iowa's voice was softer now, losing a bit of its energy. Thankfully, Luzon didn't have as adverse of a reaction as she had before, sniffling into my shoulder. It was probably time for her to get some rest, anyway.
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"We're going to have to figure if there are any legal hangups with adopting shipgirls," Vulcan watched as Richardson paused mid-drink, almost allowing his coffee to spill into his lap. Before the man almost spits back up into his cup.
"Pardon me?" Richardson frowned, whipping some of the hot drink from his chin. "But what, exactly do you mean by, adopting shipgirls."
"It's because I'm pretty sure that's more or less what Isabella has done with Luzon, so we might as well try to make it official here," Vulcan watched as Richardson's face carefully. "Most of the others pass it off as Isabella momboating Luzon, but by this point, I think Isabella is just momming."
"I expected as much," Richardson ran his hands through his hair, placing his cap down on the desk beside him. "I've looked into it a little, honestly, and it's a massive grey area if there ever was one. Natural borns have been adopted in the past, but legally, that is considerably different than just adopting a shipgirl."
Vulcan scowled. She was afraid of that. She was even more afraid of what happened if someone was stupid enough to try and force the issue.
"I'll do what I can at the moment, but honestly, there isn't going to be a whole lot I can do. Officially, at any rate," Vulcan nodded, understanding what Admiral Richardson was saying.
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I let out a groan of pain. It felt as if someone had punched me in my now nonexistent testicles.
Repeatedly.
"Are you okay?" Luzon's eyes were shining with a thin layer of tears as I tried to push myself off the bed. The obvious answer was no, no I was not fine. The pain in my lower stomach made that very clear. However, I also had no clue what was wrong. Or what was causing it.
"Just a little pain, is all," I lied, hoping to calm Luzon down. After all, that was simply a compounding reason behind my concern. Luzon had missed the blood, thank goodness. I doubt she would take it well. My first instinct was to pop in with Vulcan and see what was going on, though the repair baths were a tempting option.
I mean, there weren't a whole lot of explanations. Injuring myself was unlikely, as Luzon probably would have noticed that. One of my wounds opening up was possible, but from what I understood, an unlikely prospect. Well, there was that.
I shook my head, wincing as I managed to get myself onto my feet. A part of my brain whispered how that was a possibility, every rational part of my brain screamed not to think about it. It wasn't like I wanted to consider that possibility anyway. Entertaining the idea would cause my brain to explode.
Honestly, though, popping by Vulcan was probably the best option. I mean, how bad can it be?
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"IT'S MY FIRST WHAT!"
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Luzon's fingers were wrapped in my hand, as numerous destroyers were herded around by a smaller but still considerable number of cruisers throughout the exiting docks.
Sasebo. We had arrived at Sasebo. I couldn't believe it. It was almost as if this was all some type of pleasant dream, all about to come crashing down. But it wasn't.
Luzon was safe. I was safe.
It just didn't seem real. None of it felt real. As if I was about to wake up in my bed, or wake up on that island all over again.
But even knowing that the world simply wasn't going to fall out from beneath me, despite the fact we were both safe, there was an underlying tension. I wasn't sure what, or even why, caused me to have that feeling. But it was there all the same, and it made me nervous.
And I shouldn't be nervous. Today was going to be a good day. Sure, I was likely going to have to talk about what had happened over the past near month, something I wasn't looking forward to, nor did I feel ready for. But it was going to have to be done one way or another.
Luzon's grip tightened, fingernails digging into my palms. I was going to have to clip them sometime soon. Probably mine as well, now that I thought about it. The ramp came down, as sunlight poured into the room.
That, was, well, a lot of shipgirls, standing at the peer. Several human sailors too, alongside a man with numerous medals pinned to his chest. He looked the oldest, at what would probably be middle age, with his hair having a tinge of grey. He looked like he was in pretty great shape, too. If I had to guess, he was probably the Admiral stationed here.
We filed off the ship slowly. Vestal had a stop at Yokuska as well as Sesabo, so many of the Japanese shipgirls weren't joining us. Though I highly doubt Kongo was going to stay out of touch. She had her methods.
The Admiral addressed everyone as we disembarked. I paid attention, up until a point. I hadn't noted her at first, my attention taken by the numerous sights and sounds. But once I had? Any chance of me paying attention had gone out the window.
She was a cruiser, but fairly short. Probably an inch or two taller than I was. Her silver hair was shorter than mine, lacking the curls, with a blue sunfish clipped in her hair. Her outfit was similar to what I remembered mine to be, but with her skirt up closer to her stomach, rather than her waist, giving her outfit a white dominating appearance that made the blue above stand out even more. Her eyes matched mine, an almost identical reflection.
Then her gaze turned to me, and her eyes began to shine. If I had paid any attention to the Admiral, I would have realized he had stopped talking some time ago, cocking his head from this near reflection to myself.
In the next instant, in less than it took for one to blink, I felt her arms wrap around me, almost threatening to break my spine.
"Isabella! Thank goodness you're okay!" her voice wavered, gripping me tightly, "You aren't allowed to worry your older sister like that ever again!"
There was a break, I think. There was something at the back of my mind that simply, shattered. I couldn't stop it. Couldn't help it.
The dam behind my eyes shuttered as my body quaked. I felt Luzon grasp my leg, clinging to it like a lifeline.
The dam broke.
And I cried, clinging to the girl before me that claimed to be my sister. A sister I never had.
Quite possibly, the only biological family I had left.
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This seems like a good note to end this fic on. Don't worry, I certainly have plans on what I want to do when it comes to the future of this universe that I built. It's just that I want to have more details and structure for those events. Because as much as I love what Ocean Plains became, I also won't lie about how I was flying by the seat of my pants for the majority of it, and I intend to take those lessons to heart.
"I don't know how it happened, okay? I was guiding her down the hall, and a looked away for a moment, then poof, she's gone, like she never existed in the first place!" Vulcan rested her head in her hands, desperate to alleviate what she knew was going to become a raging headache.
"Then backtrack!" she hissed, taking a quick peek over her shoulder. This was one of those moments that Vulcan wanted to hug whatever destroyer it was that showed Luzon that video of how her mother figure was bridal carried back to the Vestal by South Dakota. Instead of disciplining them so hard, they might never see the light of day again.
Because that's something one should show someone with a literal mountain's worth of trauma, the broken body of the closest thing they had to a family being carried around like a sack.
There was some silver lining in the whole ordeal, as Luzon, either through ignorance or simply just the desire to not think about it, had fixated on something completely different. Upside being that Luzon could handle being in South Dakota's presence. Not long, but long enough they could have Luzon and Isabella doing separate things. For a while, before Luzon's trauma got the best of her and she started to seek out Isabella again.
The downside being Luzon had asked Isabella more than a few questions that caused the cruiser to blush like a tomato. Probably not that big of a downside, given everything else, to be honest. For the moment, Vulcan was a bit more concerned about who exactly thought showing her the video was a bright idea. And how, exactly, did the destroyer in question even get the footage?
"I did!" Vulcan bit her lip to prevent the release of a long line of expletives that her captain would have approved of, but Isabella wouldn't want around Luzon in the first place. Isabella could keep decent pace with the other shipgirls if she let her mouth go, but around Luzon her language was clean. "She must have taken a wrong turn somewhere."
That was exactly what Vulcan didn't want to hear. Leaving Isabella by herself, in a place, she still didn't know how to navigate? Even without the incident a few days back before they were fully underway, Isabella getting lost was one of the last things Vulcan wanted. It didn't take a genius to figure out that Isabella may just connect that feeling of being lost with what she felt when she was tearing her way through the Abyssal base like a rabid animal.
Even if a repeat of that scenario was unlikely, Isabella didn't seem to consciously remember the event. Vulcan wasn't entirely sure just how bad memory loss was in cases like this, but sometimes, people forgot the terrible things they went through for good reason. There was little doubt in her mind that this was one of those scenarios.
A chill went down Vulcan's spine, almost momentarily, as she remembered what South Dakota had told her. About what Isabella had said. How she just repeated 'don't' over and over again. With that and the Abyssal metal plates, it hadn't taken long for Vulcan's thoughts to begin to stew.
They were not pleasant thoughts. Vulcan had heard and even seen numerous conspiracies, or at least, theories, about how shipgirls and Abyssal's were somehow connected. She never put any stock in them, of course. None of them made any sense, so she simply brushed them off. But after this? Vulcan prayed that her thoughts were due to nothing more than overthinking the problem at hand.
If they weren't. Vulcan shuttered. Then they were extremely fortunate that they'd managed to get Isabella away when they did. Or it could have just been the Abyssal in question simply being sadistic, but there was more than a chance that it had a greater goal in mind.
And that chance brought more concerns up to the surface. Greatest of which being Isabella's mental wellbeing. If the wrong admiral got their hands on her, then Isabella would be seriously at risk. Vulcan was almost happy that for the time being, the two would be at Sasebo, rather than return to the states. Richardson was reliable and ran a tight ship, so Vulcan trusted him. While Isabella would possibly spend some time at Yokosuka working for close shore convoy escort, the Japanese shipgirls had nothing but praise for Gato. Though that was an if scenario for the foreseeable future.
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How was a single traumatized cruiser so sneaky? Iowa's arms pumped as she tore down the hall, looking for any sign of the smaller vessel. Sure, Isabella was quiet and easy to overlook, but not like this! She didn't just up and vanish, like a leaf in the wind.
Did she make a wrong turn somewhere? Isabella would have had to, as she'd been standing right next to Iowa for most of their journey. Even then, how far could Isabella have gotten before realizing it? A dozen feet or so?
As it turned out, likely not. Iowa wasn't sure what made Isabella lose focus like that. Something had to have distracted her, as Isabella had outright asked for help navigating around. Isabella had shown at least some awareness of her trauma, so running off intentionally would be abnormal, or at the very least, counterproductive. Something Iowa had no doubts Isabella was aware of.
Seriously, for someone who'd only been alive a few weeks, maybe a month, tops, Isabella had no right to be as introspective as she was. Had no problems asking for help, put up no resistance to requests to seek therapy, hell, even having already begun considering the idea for herself, and Luzon, to boot. It was like Isabella was aware that the pair were traumatized wrecks.
If Isabella had made it to Hawaii, she would have had Arizona to confide in. A mixed bag, given how if the rumblings were true, then Arizona was finally going to get resigned to a new base. Of course, that was a rumor that Iowa had heard more than once over the years. While she agreed it needed to happen, after all, being that close to your corpse would be traumatizing enough. Let alone being by it whenever you stepped outside or headed out on a mission.
However, the older dreadnought had been incredibly stubborn about staying put, so Iowa had no idea what would come of it. Of course, in that scenario, Luzon would still be trapped in the Philippines with those monsters with nobody none the wiser. And Luzon was an absolute Sweety Petey that didn't deserve any of the terrible things that had happened to her.
Including the possible freak out if Iowa didn't find Isabella soon. Seriously! Where was she! Iowa had already covered more than half the level. She was seriously potentially considering that Isabella had managed to go up or down the stairs at some point, putting her on a completely different deck.
If that was the case, then Isabella could be just about anywhere on the ship. Iowa was going to have to call in support for this, wasn't she? Honestly, something Iowa was reluctant to do. Isabella wasn't a danger, or at least, much of one. But if she got scared and lashed out? If the person who brought on such a reaction was human?
Things could be, bad. Really bad.
She was just about ready to request additional assistance in the matter over her radio. There were at least a few cruisers and destroyers that could be willing to lend a hand, including William D. Porter. Instead, a message came through to her, informing her that Isabella had been spotted close by, with the Vestal's crew keeping watch.
Iowa almost demanded why they hadn't tried guiding Isabella back, but bit her tongue. Spooking a traumatized person with the strength of a light cruiser was a troubling prospect. Taking shipgirls by surprise was that in general, and there were more than a few incidents people had gotten seriously injured, especially around new summons who'd yet to control their strength. So there was a reason, likely a good one, that they were keeping their distance. As cold as it may have been.
And it probably was a good thing. Isabella had curled up into a ball, back against the wall, with her knees grasped to her chest. Her body visibly quaked, almost as if she were rocking back in forth. As Iowa approached, Isabella's voice began to reach her ears, far deeper than her normal tone, almost as if the girl was possessed.
"Can't find a way out. Can't find a way out. Can't find an escape. Need to get out. Need to get free," over and over, as if those words were some kind of anchor. It didn't take a genius to figure out what Isabella was referring to, either. As angry as Iowa was that nobody had made a move to comfort Isabella, it wasn't a secret at this point what had happened before they rescued her. Tearing apart Abyssals with one's bare hands tended to give one a reputation. A reputation that went both ways.
Shipgirls did tend to get a bit of leeway, for several reasons. But seriously injuring or even killing a service member? That was something the brass wouldn't overlook. And there was little doubt in Iowa's mind that if Isabella did go that far, that the light cruiser wouldn't forgive herself.
Regardless, Iowa approached the girl cautiously. Isabella's punches might as well be love taps against her armor belt, even if she swung at full power. Her guns could prove to be an issue, however, mercifully, Isabella's rigging hadn't been activated. But startling or shocking her would be bad either way.
Slowly, Iowa knelt in front of Isabella, the girl seemingly unaware of her presence, her forehead resting on the top of her knees.
"Bella, it's me, Iowa. Are you okay?" she reached out gently, keeping a steady pace. It wasn't until her fingers brushed lightly against Isabella's shoulders that Iowa a response. Isabella's head jerked upright, her eye's nearly as big as saucers, completely dominated by fear and panic. Her gasp was sharp and brief, echoing down the corridor, a sound that could be described as haunting.
Isabella's legs flailed, kicking backward, as if pushing herself into the wall, almost in a struggle to hide from something that only Isabella could see.
Slowly, Isabella's erratic breathing steadied, the sheen of fear clouding her eyes receding, as her frame shuttered, finally becoming aware of the world around her. Instead of whatever visions she had been locked inside.
"Iowa?" Isabella's voice was faint, almost hoarse as if she'd been screaming. Iowa had to stop a frown from appearing on her face. Isabella very well could have been releasing shrieks of terror and panic this entire time. Her voice didn't get in such a state just simply due to her panicked breathing. Meaning Iowa, somehow, hadn't heard Isabella at all. With the metal hallways, that should have been impossible.
The sound reverberated all too easily for that to be an issue. Having a hard time tracking such noise back to its source? Iowa could believe that. She couldn't believe noise would simply vanish into thin air. That she wouldn't have been able to hear Isabella's cries for help.
"It's okay, you're safe now," Iowa comforted, the small cruiser, helping her onto her feet, as Isabella's legs shook. She made a little gesture with her head, signaling the rest of the crew to stop observing the two. As rational as a decision as it was, Iowa didn't want Isabella to come away with the wrong impression right now.
"It's not okay," Isabella seemed to mutter to herself, gazing down at her feet. Iowa winced. To say Isabella was okay would be a lie, with this only cementing it even further. The worst part was, Iowa couldn't exactly deny it, either. Even for Isabella's sake. Iowa was certain that a willingness to lie to Isabella would probably make things even worse.
"But it will be," Isabella paused at Iowa's statement as if processing the statement. She wasn't okay now. Probably wouldn't be what passed as okay for some time, in truth.
But that wasn't to say Isabella would be okay at some point in the future. Being well would be even further off than the future. But Iowa knew Isabella could get there, in time.
However, that would take time, and Iowa had no reservations about how long it would take. In place of time, she had an alternate solution.
Cuddle therapy. Ideally with Luzon included.
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"Is that? Mario Kart?" Vulcan stared in almost disbelief, watching as Isabella deftly navigated her character through the scores of others on screen, deftly maneuvering out of the way of a shell sent her way, likely by one of the destroyers that were also playing with her.
Isabella hadn't noticed her statement or arrival, eyes locked on the screen in intense concentration, but Vulcan couldn't miss the grin on her face. It was no toothy grin by any stretch of the imagination, but her face was filled with far more happiness than Vulcan had seen so far. Luzon was perched in Isabella's lap, the young girl enjoying the carnage Isabella was engaging in.
Luzon's eyes were slightly red, however, and Vulcan was already putting the pieces together of what exactly had happened. She had lost, quite possibly, badly, maybe even repeatedly, and Isabella decided to step up and get some revenge. Normally, Vulcan would condone Isabella for such actions. Destroyers were far more mature than anyone of their age looked, but they still could prove to be just like human children. Hyperactive, rambunctious, and oftentimes, all too competitive. Turnabout was for than fair play, if that was the case.
"How did this happen, exactly?" Vulcan rubbed her temple, filing away another piece of information into the 'Isabella makes no sense' folder that had begun building up in her brain. Because this was starting to reach the point where she would accept outright magic as an answer. There was scarcely anything else left. Besides the whole, Isabella is a natural-born with amnesia, hypotheses which they wouldn't even get insight into whether or not it was true until they reached landfall. And there was a sinking feeling that the hypothesis would find itself with more holes blown in its side by the time that conversation was over and done.
A basic understanding of not only modern concepts but that the war was over in its entirety. Combined with knowledge of what was a recipe that wasn't fairly complex, but completely off the top of her head, and now, a sudden knowledge of how to play video games? Sure, a game like Mario Kart was far from complex but this didn't just happen randomly. Isabella knew about things, that as a newly summoned shipgirl, she clearly shouldn't know. There had to be something Vulcan was overlooking. Some critical detail she was missing.
Well, there was, that. But Vulcan silently brushed off the idea. It was several different types of crazy, almost bordering on insane. There was absolutely no way that was the case. It would go against everything that they'd known about shipgirl summoning.
But there was a treacherous little whisper at the back of her mind. One she couldn't simply just shake away. How would they know about whatever summoning had brought forth Isabella, if none had managed to survive?
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"Is that?" A cry reverberated off the walls, bouncing across the labyrinth of steel corridors that connected the vessel's interior. I bolted in an instant, running towards the source of the noise, ignoring Iowa's shouting behind me as a broke forward at breakneck speed.
Luzon. The source was Luzon. I had no idea how I knew. I just did.
And thus? I simply moved. Homing in the noise as it were a beacon. I weaved through the crampt and crowded hallways, taking great care to not step on the shoes of the numerous servicemen and women that were in my path. Or, at least, I thought I did. There were more important things on my mind than a few bruised toes.
It had scarcely been a miniature since I'd left the fast battleship in the dust before I arrived at the scene. Luzon was on the ground, crying, with South Dakota trying to comfort Luzon, largely ineffectively. The dark-skinned battleship wore an expression of panic, trying to figure out what to do.
Immediately, I scooped Luzon up into my arms, letting her head rest against my shoulder.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! It's my fault," I could hardly make out Luzon's words as they broke through her sobs, each a knife right into my heart.
"It's okay. Nothing is your fault," I rocked Luzon gently back and forth, as tears began to seep into my shirt. She continued to cry, but Luzon stopped talking, frame trembling in my arms.
Quickly, I began to look around for the source of Luzon's distress. It wasn't South Dakota, or, at least, it didn't look like it had been South Dakota. The only other person nearby was.
My eyes narrowed into slits. I wasn't quite glaring, or at least, I hadn't started glaring. Yet. The servicewomen's feet shifted awkwardly as if she'd been standing around for the while affair. There was an embarrassed, if not outright guilty look on her face. Accident, maybe?
Did it matter though? She made Luzon cry! Still, getting visibly mad at the woman, or even expressing it verbally, could upset Luzon even more! I paused for a moment, taking in her features. Her hair was straighter than Luzon's but very similar in color, if not identical. The same could be said for their skin, being similar in pigmentation. It wasn't a sign of anything.
But what if Luzon thought it was a sign of something? The crease on my face grew. If Luzon thought that she might have been of Philippine descent, then. Then.
She might have not had to do anything to make Luzon cry. Muscles loosened all across my face, releasing the scowl I hadn't realized was there. It's possibly not even her fault. That she hadn't gone out of her way to make Luzon cry.
Regardless, she still made Luzon cry. It took everything in my power to stop my face from twisting back up again.
"Wow, you're nimble when you want to be," I shot Iowa a glare as Luzon let out a hiccup, body quaking in my arms. Luzon had only just stopped crying, though she was still sniffling, Iowa's arrival, one that lacked any subtlety, must have startled her.
"Right, sorry," Iowa's voice was softer now, losing a bit of its energy. Thankfully, Luzon didn't have as adverse of a reaction as she had before, sniffling into my shoulder. It was probably time for her to get some rest, anyway.
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"We're going to have to figure if there are any legal hangups with adopting shipgirls," Vulcan watched as Richardson paused mid-drink, almost allowing his coffee to spill into his lap. Before the man almost spits back up into his cup.
"Pardon me?" Richardson frowned, whipping some of the hot drink from his chin. "But what, exactly do you mean by, adopting shipgirls."
"It's because I'm pretty sure that's more or less what Isabella has done with Luzon, so we might as well try to make it official here," Vulcan watched as Richardson's face carefully. "Most of the others pass it off as Isabella momboating Luzon, but by this point, I think Isabella is just momming."
"I expected as much," Richardson ran his hands through his hair, placing his cap down on the desk beside him. "I've looked into it a little, honestly, and it's a massive grey area if there ever was one. Natural borns have been adopted in the past, but legally, that is considerably different than just adopting a shipgirl."
Vulcan scowled. She was afraid of that. She was even more afraid of what happened if someone was stupid enough to try and force the issue.
"I'll do what I can at the moment, but honestly, there isn't going to be a whole lot I can do. Officially, at any rate," Vulcan nodded, understanding what Admiral Richardson was saying.
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I let out a groan of pain. It felt as if someone had punched me in my now nonexistent testicles.
Repeatedly.
"Are you okay?" Luzon's eyes were shining with a thin layer of tears as I tried to push myself off the bed. The obvious answer was no, no I was not fine. The pain in my lower stomach made that very clear. However, I also had no clue what was wrong. Or what was causing it.
"Just a little pain, is all," I lied, hoping to calm Luzon down. After all, that was simply a compounding reason behind my concern. Luzon had missed the blood, thank goodness. I doubt she would take it well. My first instinct was to pop in with Vulcan and see what was going on, though the repair baths were a tempting option.
I mean, there weren't a whole lot of explanations. Injuring myself was unlikely, as Luzon probably would have noticed that. One of my wounds opening up was possible, but from what I understood, an unlikely prospect. Well, there was that.
I shook my head, wincing as I managed to get myself onto my feet. A part of my brain whispered how that was a possibility, every rational part of my brain screamed not to think about it. It wasn't like I wanted to consider that possibility anyway. Entertaining the idea would cause my brain to explode.
Honestly, though, popping by Vulcan was probably the best option. I mean, how bad can it be?
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"IT'S MY FIRST WHAT!"
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Luzon's fingers were wrapped in my hand, as numerous destroyers were herded around by a smaller but still considerable number of cruisers throughout the exiting docks.
Sasebo. We had arrived at Sasebo. I couldn't believe it. It was almost as if this was all some type of pleasant dream, all about to come crashing down. But it wasn't.
Luzon was safe. I was safe.
It just didn't seem real. None of it felt real. As if I was about to wake up in my bed, or wake up on that island all over again.
But even knowing that the world simply wasn't going to fall out from beneath me, despite the fact we were both safe, there was an underlying tension. I wasn't sure what, or even why, caused me to have that feeling. But it was there all the same, and it made me nervous.
And I shouldn't be nervous. Today was going to be a good day. Sure, I was likely going to have to talk about what had happened over the past near month, something I wasn't looking forward to, nor did I feel ready for. But it was going to have to be done one way or another.
Luzon's grip tightened, fingernails digging into my palms. I was going to have to clip them sometime soon. Probably mine as well, now that I thought about it. The ramp came down, as sunlight poured into the room.
That, was, well, a lot of shipgirls, standing at the peer. Several human sailors too, alongside a man with numerous medals pinned to his chest. He looked the oldest, at what would probably be middle age, with his hair having a tinge of grey. He looked like he was in pretty great shape, too. If I had to guess, he was probably the Admiral stationed here.
We filed off the ship slowly. Vestal had a stop at Yokuska as well as Sesabo, so many of the Japanese shipgirls weren't joining us. Though I highly doubt Kongo was going to stay out of touch. She had her methods.
The Admiral addressed everyone as we disembarked. I paid attention, up until a point. I hadn't noted her at first, my attention taken by the numerous sights and sounds. But once I had? Any chance of me paying attention had gone out the window.
She was a cruiser, but fairly short. Probably an inch or two taller than I was. Her silver hair was shorter than mine, lacking the curls, with a blue sunfish clipped in her hair. Her outfit was similar to what I remembered mine to be, but with her skirt up closer to her stomach, rather than her waist, giving her outfit a white dominating appearance that made the blue above stand out even more. Her eyes matched mine, an almost identical reflection.
Then her gaze turned to me, and her eyes began to shine. If I had paid any attention to the Admiral, I would have realized he had stopped talking some time ago, cocking his head from this near reflection to myself.
In the next instant, in less than it took for one to blink, I felt her arms wrap around me, almost threatening to break my spine.
"Isabella! Thank goodness you're okay!" her voice wavered, gripping me tightly, "You aren't allowed to worry your older sister like that ever again!"
There was a break, I think. There was something at the back of my mind that simply, shattered. I couldn't stop it. Couldn't help it.
The dam behind my eyes shuttered as my body quaked. I felt Luzon grasp my leg, clinging to it like a lifeline.
The dam broke.
And I cried, clinging to the girl before me that claimed to be my sister. A sister I never had.
Quite possibly, the only biological family I had left.
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This seems like a good note to end this fic on. Don't worry, I certainly have plans on what I want to do when it comes to the future of this universe that I built. It's just that I want to have more details and structure for those events. Because as much as I love what Ocean Plains became, I also won't lie about how I was flying by the seat of my pants for the majority of it, and I intend to take those lessons to heart.