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Participation Award (Kantai Collection)

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Allen really deserves a hug. Poor thing. At least she's found a friend. And might be headed back to where all her sisters are.
 
That was rough, stumbling into Liscombe Bay like that can't really be good, mentally speaking, for Allen. Hope Harder is here to pull her ass out of the fire.
 
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Chapter 8: Nagato Interlude 1
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 1
    • Allen exists.
    • Allen's clothes exist. She likes them.
    • Allen panics.
    • Allen decides not to do philosophy.
    • Allen sails west.

    Chapter 2
    • Allen finds out she's sharkproof.
    • Allen learns she can refuel by eating raw shark.
    • Allen goes all ship and finds out that her nature is total philosophy bait.
    • Allen trips and falls on her face, saving herself from a fit of accidental philosophy.
    • Allen loses her shark and feels really stupid.

    Chapter 3
    • Allen gets stuck in a freaky storm.
    • Allen uses her radio to chat with a mentally ill ship who coincidentally happens to be in the same direction as the center of the freaky storm.

    Chapter 4
    • Allen envies Fletchers for their everything.
    • A mentally ill carrier attacks Allen.
    • Allen pretends to be the mentally ill carrier's friend to get her to stop attacking.
    • Allen finds out the mentally ill carrier's name is Liscome Bay.
    • Allen responds to a mentally ill Liscome Bay's distress call.

    Chapter 5
    • Allen gets angry at whatever hurt Liscome Bay, then she gets frustrated that getting angry doesn't help.
    • Allen decides to stop being angry and frustrated, it doesn't work. This makes her angry and frustrated.
    • Not enough. Not enough. Not enough.
    • Allen takes advantage of Liscome Bay's mental illness to get in close. This makes her feel guilty.
    • Allen tries to make Liscome Bay feel better. It doesn't work.

    Chapter 6
    • Allen gets shot at.
    • Allen finds out that fire hurts.
    • Allen tries to talk Liscome Bay down in order to make herself feel less guilty about her impending murder. It doesn't work, and it doesn't work.
    • Allen goes swimming.
    • Allen shoots a mentally ill carrier in the back.

    Chapter 7
    • Allen decides not to have a mental breakdown until after she's watched at least 13 friends die.
    • Allen makes terrible plans to go in the wrong direction and tell the navy about stuff they already know.
    • Harder calls Allen a stupid bitch. This greatly improves her mental state.

    "Hand."

    This wasn't what Nagato believed Admiral Yanagi had in mind when he told her that this assignment would be personally and professionally difficult for her. She had imagined difficult moral quandaries as she tried to balance loyalty to her nation with her desire to ensure that kanmusu never had to wage war against each other. What she got was a tiny tugboat, in tiny tugboat rigging, with a tiny tugboat stack that just barely stuck up past her tiny tugboat head, who refused to let Nagato exit the helicopter without holding her hand.

    "Um…"

    Nagato, unable to think of a polite way to ask why the boatgirl thought it was so important, and feeling a little bit like she had just lost a battle, held out her hand. It was probably just a tiny tugboat thing anyway. Hopefully. She needed to make a good impression on the American ships, and being rude to tiny tugboats would certainly not help with that.

    If this was how Americans played politics, they played dirty, and were disturbingly well-informed.

    The tiny tugboat helped Nagato step out of the helicopter and led her away from the pad. When they were out of the way of the departing aircraft, the girl looked up at her and beamed.

    "Welcome to America, Washington state, Pudgy Sound, and Naval Base Hat Island, home port for the Pacific Shipgirl Fleet!" She pointed off to the east. "Naval Base Everett is three mi—I mean seven kilometers that way. Bremerton is sixty-three kilometers that way," she said as she whirled to point to the southwest without letting go of Nagato's hand, then she moved her finger a few degrees north. "Naval Station Kitsap is forty-five kilometers that way, but shipgirls aren't allowed to visit because they don't want us messing around with nuclear missiles."

    Nagato didn't manage to suppress her flinch at the mention of nukes, but the tiny tugboat continued on without seeming to notice as she turned to point northwest. "And Naval Air Station Whidby is forty-seven kilometers that way.

    "Everett is the only one that you can sail in a straight line to get to. You'll need to fly anywhere else unless you want to take a day off. There's also some other bases to the south, but they're army and air force, so they don't count.

    "There's lots of cities and towns and civilian ships around too, so you have to take a test on the navigation rules before you get to sail anywhere. Also, no gunnery in the Salish Sea because it's really easy to accidentally blow up a park full of babies and puppies and kittens." The tiny tugboat scowled ferociously up at her. "Shooting babies is bad, so don't do it!"

    Nagato recoiled at the implied accusation. "I would never!"

    "Good." Sotoyomo nodded firmly before breaking out another beaming smile. "I'm the tugship USS Sotoyomo, official Hall Monitor of the Navy! That means I'm in charge of all the hall passes on Hat Island and escorting anyone who doesn't have one. You're not allowed to go places without holding my hand until you have clearance!"

    Nagato found that she didn't really mind that. She did mind the nagging feeling that she probably should mind it though.

    "It is an honor to meet you, Miss Sototyomo," she responded with a reflexive bow, ignoring questions about "tugships" in favor of avoiding what was most likely a touchy topic for the tiny tugboat.

    "I am JS Nagato of the Japanese Maritime Self-Defense Force. Please take good care of me," she recited, careful not to let any of the very mixed feelings that the still-unfamiliar JS abbreviation stirred up show on her face as she gave another, somewhat deeper bow. "I also deeply appreciate the courtesy you have shown in personalizing your orientation for me. Please feel free to use nautical miles when giving directions in the future, however, as our navy doesn't use kilometers at sea."

    Sotoyomo let out a huge sigh of relief, accompanied by a tiny belch of oily black smoke from her stack. "Oh thank goodness, I hate math!" She cleared her throat and straightened up. "Um, I mean, welcome to the Navy, Miss Nagatoro!"

    Nagato's eyebrow twitched.

    It was a slip of the tongue. That was probably normal for Sotoyomo, considering the real name of this place was Puget Sound. The accidental comparison to that character wasn't her fault, and getting upset about it when they had just met would be petty and counterproductive. Nagato wouldn't even be annoyed if Akigumo hadn't insisted on inflicting her terrible taste in anime on the whole base.

    "You're the new 'sperimental Navy attacher, right?" Sotoyomo broke into her musings.

    Nagato almost let a smile slip past her professional face. It seemed the tiny tugboat really was prone to slips of the tongue.

    "I am," she said. "Although it's pronounced attaché."

    Sotoyomo waved her hand dismissively. "Po-TAY-to, to-MAH-to. What's important is that you're here to attach the submarines! Make sure you swear at them and call them idiots. Submarines like it when you do that, it's how they know you care. I'd do it myself, but I'm not allowed to say 'fuck' anymore."

    Nagato nodded along until her mental Japanese translation caught up with the words. "What?" she asked, realizing that she no longer had any control over this conversation.

    Sotoyomo battleshipped on without any sign that she understood the reason for Nagato's bewilderment. "Yeah, there's lots of things I'm not allowed to talk about 'cause it makes people uncomfortable, like where my name comes from. It's not Japanese you know, even though it sounds like it. It's Sioux, which is kind of weird when you think about it, because I don't think I look very Sioux. Probably."

    Sotoyomo curiously looked up at Nagato.

    "Do I look Sioux to you?"

    "I do not know what Sioux is," Nagato confessed as she desperately scrambled to make sense of the conversation.

    "They're like American Ainu."

    "Ah," Nagato said, as her discomfort suddenly and profoundly jumped to a new level.

    "Anyway! No Japanese names on my hull! That's why they were okay with refloating me after I sank in Pearl harbor! But yeah, everyone's pretty sure it sounds a little bit racist to say I was named to commemorate 'the war-like Sioux tribe,' so I'm not allowed to talk about it anymore and we all pretend that counts as respect!"

    "Ah," Nagato said again. It really should not be this difficult to tell if the tiny tugboat's peppy tone of voice was cheerful obliviousness or an attempt at plausible deniability while she stabbed everything everywhere with words. She fervently hoped it was the first because the second would not bode well for her mission here.

    The first kanmusu to appear had fought alone in defense of their nations. As more and more showed up, and especially after Japan had learned how to intentionally summon them, the various navies were able to start sending task forces on offensive missions, which was when the problems started. It was difficult enough to adjust to the modern navy—or Maritime Self Defense Force—in your own country, but now a kanmusu could find herself as part of a force with an English battleship, a German cruiser, and American destroyers who all vividly remember trying to sink each other not too long ago. Nobody had been stupid enough to try and re-start the war, but every ship came back with scars and there was no body of institutional experience with mixed kanmusu fleets to draw from. That was why Nagato was here.

    Her job was to figure out America; their culture, their institutions, their bureaucracy, their kanmusu, and take it all home so she could teach girls fresh from the nineteen-forties how to navigate it while fighting alongside them. Well, that was the ultimate goal. Her job right now was to start by figuring out American submarines, Admiral Yanagi's recommendation when she asked where she was needed most.

    Sotoyomo, mercifully, stopped talking and led Nagato to a spot away from the helipad, presumably to wait for another helicopter.

    Was there another inbound kanmusu that she didn't know about? It was standard procedure to avoid putting more than one on any aircraft in order to ensure that a mechanical problem or Abyssal attack didn't destroy an entire fleet. That was rarely a concern, though, as even the most charismatic of admirals had difficulty persuading kanmusu to board an aircraft of any sort.

    Nagato was about to ask when a cheerful jingle coming from the tiny tugboat's pocket interrupted her, one she was surprised to note was from a popular pocky commercial. Sotoyomo let go of her hand to pull out a smartphone and Nagato turned her attention back to the helipad, both to give the tiny tugboat some privacy and because not being able to hear both sides of a phone conversation irritated her to a degree that was irritating on its own because of how unreasonable the irritation was.

    The helicopter could be carrying the admiral, but she easily dismissed that idea. Admirals were busy, and they didn't often take the time out of their day to greet guests as they arrived, especially when they had to fly in from another base to do it. No, they were most likely either awaiting the arrival of another person without security clearance, or a helicopter to take her the rest of the way to Naval Station Everett.

    Nagato was pulled from her thoughts by a tiny tug on her hand, and she looked down to see a serious frown on Sotoyomo's face.

    "We should go inside. Admiral Edwards has been called into an emergency meeting, so his helicopter is turning around. Tokyo is under attack."

    Sotoyomo pulled on her hand again, and, for the first time, Nagato resisted. It wasn't hard, and a small portion of her brain told her to be careful. Her human body made it easy to forget that she could easily rip the little boat in half with a careless gesture.

    "What? No, I need to…"

    She felt a sudden flare of humiliation as she realized that her mouth started talking before she started thinking. Need to what? Get on a plane and fly across the Pacific Ocean, making it just in time to not help at all? Demand to be included in a meeting of the top brass of a navy that she wasn't a member of? Sail out into the dangerous waters of Puget Sound and shoot anything that looked suspicious?

    Nagato took a deep breath. She needed to trust the ships back home. She already had a mission laid out in front of her and she should pursue it instead of flailing around like she had never expected to hear bad news in a war.

    She fixed her smile and responded to the tiny tugboat who looked back at her with worried eyes. "Yes, let's do that. I could not demand the Admiral's attention at a time like this. Is there a mess hall or recreation room nearby? I would like to meet the ships that I will be working alongside if possible, especially the submarines."

    "Yeah," Sotoyomo said, her frown not lifting at all. "They're serving lunch in the cafeteria."

    "Then please lead on," Nagato said.

    The tiny tugboat's gaze lingered for a second before she squeezed Nagato's hand and pulled her towards a large building away from the helipad. It was a mess hall, very modern and covered in large windows that seemed quite un-navy-like to Nagato's eye. It wasn't ugly by any means, but she was aunsure whether she should attribute its design to being American or new. It had obviously been completed very recently, with visible seams in the lawn that faced it. She might have appreciated the design more in other circumstances, but right now, it just felt alien.

    Nagato could see a few small clusters of kanmusu through the windows, grouped mainly by class. Two capital ships sat in the center of the room, the unfortunately familiar escort carrier Gambier Bay sitting alongside the also unfortunately familiar, but for different reasons, battleship Maryland. The regal-looking brunette had the distinct privilege of being the only US battleship left after America's disastrous attempt to retake Hawaii last year.

    Three unknown cruisers sat next to them, and they were surrounded by nine destroyers of various types that were also mostly unknown, except for three very concerning exceptions. Sitting at the table behind Gambier Bay and talking with a small ship in a white and red paint scheme were three girls known around the world, Heermann, Johnston, and Samuel B. Roberts.

    In one corner of the room, almost like an afterthought, a group of submarines huddled together beneath a television, though they were hardly the only ones watching. Every ship in the room seemed to be keeping one eye on the device, and Nagato had a sinking feeling she knew why.

    Sotoyomo pulled one of the double glass doors open and the eyes of every submarine snapped towards her, followed shortly by the other ships as the conversations around them petered out.

    While most of the ships looked curious, including the members of Taffy 3 to Nagato's relief, some had other, more concerning reactions. Several different emotions that she couldn't identify flickered across Maryland's face in quick succession while one of the cruisers and three destroyers tried, poorly, to hide anger. The submarines, all of them, were expressionless and silent.

    "Hello everyone," Nagato said as she gave a polite bow. "I am JS Nagato, assigned to serve as a naval attaché to the United States Pacific Submarine Shipgirl Fleet under Admiral Edwards as part of an experimental joint cooperation program. I look forward to working with you."

    Maryland put on a well-practiced expression of neutral amiability and moved to stand, presumably to return Nagato's greeting, but she was preempted by an excited, "Oh my god!" from the little white and red ship. "She has a pagoda mast!"

    The ship—Nagato assumed she was a destroyer escort, seeing as she was even smaller than Samuel B. Roberts—hopped down from her plastic seat and zoomed towards her, narrowly dodging around people and furniture in her way.

    "Hey! How come you don't roll over in a storm? Isn't that thing, like, super heavy?" The girl hopped from one foot to the other. "Can you use it as a sail if your engines die?"

    Nagato smiled down at the girl and resisted the urge to pat her on the head. "I am pleased to meet you, might I have your name?"

    The girl snapped to attention, halfway through a reflexive salute before she aborted the motion. "I'm USCGC Escanaba! Nice to meet you, Miss Nagato!"

    A Coast Guard cutter? She couldn't remember ever hearing about the US Coast Guard summoning kanmusu. Weren't they a post-war institution?

    Escanaba reached up with both arms in a gesture recognized the world over by adults who dealt with energetic children, and Nagato internally panicked.

    Much as the battleship wanted to pick her up, she didn't think it would be the right choice, not while surrounded by distrustful foreign ships. Worse, as much as Escanaba looked like a child, she wasn't one. No kanmusu was, and treating her like one in front of her peers would not likely endear her to them. At the same time, refusing would paint her as callous and dismissive, a bad look in any circumstances, but especially problematic towards a destroyer, or a cutter in this case. A little ship.

    Every kanmusu came back with scars of the mind, but the smaller ones tended to have similar issues regardless of which nation they served, and the jokingly named Destroyer Syndrome was becoming less and less funny every day as little ships with unhealthy ideas about their own expendability came back injured, or not at all.

    Picking Escanaba up wasn't wise, and refusing was worse, so she compromised and crouched down, putting herself at eye level, and hopefully showing respect in a way that the Americans would understand.

    Nagato noticed a flicker at the edge of her vision, and her eyes darted over to catch Maryland coming their way before her attention was recaptured by Escanaba jumping forward and wrapping her arms around her neck in a great big hug while the cutter whispered in her ear.

    "If you make Maryland cry, they'll never find your body."

    Nagato hesitated a moment as she watched the American battleship approach before she whispered back, "Understood."

    It wasn't a complete lie. She understood that she needed to take Escanaba's threat seriously. Destroyers may look and often act like children, but they did not indulge in childish impulses when it came to their charges. She doubted a cutter who socialized with Taffy 3 would be much different. What she did not understand, and needed to figure out as soon as possible, was how to interpret the threat. Was she being literal, or was it hyperbole like the infamous American shovel talk?

    Nagato stood back up as Maryland finished her approach. Escanaba let her arms slip away from her neck and intercepted the oncoming battleship's leg to wrap it in a fierce hug, leaning into an absent-minded headpat.

    Maryland extended her hand and smiled politely, "Welcome to the Pacific Fleet, Nagato. We're happy to have you."

    Nagato shook the proffered hand and replied, "Thank you very much, Miss Maryland. Your warm welcome is relieving. I confess, I was worried I would be met with hostility considering past history, and it is heartwarming to know that is not the case."

    Escanaba flinched and looked away, causing Nagato to smile internally. The appearance of the stereotypical Guilty Destroyer Expression almost certainly meant that she was just overprotective, not insane.

    Maryland glanced at the tv that Nagato was still trying not to look at, and, for the first time, her facade slipped a little. "Yeah, well, we have a new war to fight. It'd just be stupid to start up old ones again, especially since we won."

    Nagato's diplomatic smile fossilized, and she found herself squeezing Maryland's hand far harder than was polite.

    Maryland's eyes popped wide in panic as she swung her head back to look at Nagato. "Shit, I didn't mean it like that! I'm so sorry, I was trying to say, I mean…" She hung her head and whispered, "Goddammit."

    Escanaba looked up at her fleetmate with concern all over her face and visibly increased the strength of her hug.

    Nagato forced her grip to relax before she replied, "I understand, you were trying to explain that acting on old grudges in these circumstances would be petty." Her control slipped, and, for a moment, she let her eyes find the TV. Haneda airport was burning in the night. "No apologies are necessary, and I truly appreciate the sentiment."

    Escanaba turned her concerned look on Nagato as the battleship withdrew her hand, and she was surprised by a sudden surge of anger far worse than Maryland's thoughtless comment had caused. She was the pride of Japan, not a barely functional victim of America's disastrous overconfidence. She had endured worse than this before and she didn't need a foreigner's pity.

    Maryland, either unaware of or tactfully ignoring Nagato's shameful feelings, seemed to rally herself. "Thank you," she said sheepishly. "I really am sorry. Would you like to eat with us?" She gestured at the table where Gambier Bay sat watching them both with a vaguely confused expression.

    Nagato bowed slightly and said, "I apologize, but I must decline. I still have not greeted the submarines yet, and I was hoping to spend some time getting to know them. Perhaps another time?"

    Maryland's polite smile drooped just a hair. "Yeah, another time would be better. Sorry, I didn't mean to distract you from your job." She reached down and rubbed her hand through Escanaba's short brown hair. "Come on, let's let her get acquainted with the subs."

    Maryland turned to leave, and Nagato didn't even need Escanaba's fulminating glare to know that she had erred. The American battleship had apparently picked up on her anger and was taking it personally. It wouldn't even be that far off the mark.

    If Nagato was being honest with herself, she found the other battleship off-putting, and not just because of the faux pas. It made her skin crawl to see such meek demeanor in an experienced battleship. Her eyes strayed to the tv again, taking in the sight of kanmusu illuminated by star shells and cannon fire fighting for their lives in Tokyo Bay. She swallowed her discomfort and interrupted the other battleship before she could leave. "Would dinner be acceptable? I do not know what my schedule will be for the rest of the day, but I would like to join you then if I am able."

    Maryland paused and looked at her with a frustratingly unreadable expression. "Yeah. Gambier Bay and I usually eat at eighteen hundred."

    Nagato was pulled away from her vague feelings of disappointment and Maryland's retreating form by a gentle squeeze of Sotoyomo's hand. She must not be handling the situation as well as she thought, because she was only realizing now that she couldn't remember if the tugboat had been holding it this whole time. She wished that she had fifteen minutes and an empty room to re-compose herself, but retreating in the middle of an encounter was not an option.

    Nagato turned towards the submarines that she was here to meet. Unfortunately, their position beneath the wall-mounted television meant that she could not avoid seeing it, but she was able to turn her eyes away before she caught more than an impression of muzzle flashes and fire.

    The submarines' behavior was strange and unnerving as she approached. Their stares and blank expressions had an eerie synchronized quality that she did not expect to see in a group of the infamously independent and outspoken American kanmusu. It was like watching a circling school of sharks.

    Sotoyomo darted towards a pair of subgirls at the front of the wolfpack, nearly yanking Nagato off balance, and whatever spell held the group broke. Where they had been silent and synchronized before, now they were loud and dismissive as everyone dispersed to their tables and started up boisterous, profanity-laden conversations while they ate lunch and kept an eye on Nagato the two girls that met their approach.

    "Hi Harder, Hi Thresher," Sotoyomo greeted them enthusiastically. "I brought your attacher. She's super important back in Japan, so make sure you don't ruin everything by hiding under her bed at night, or saying mean things about the Japanese destroyers, or asking what she thinks about the Yasukuni shrine, or stealing her ice cream, or stealing her dinner, or stealing her underwear, or stealing her breakfast, or stealing her money, or stealing her lunch, or stealing her snacks!"

    Ah, it seemed Sotoyomo was back to saying concerning things. The submarines didn't act surprised at her behavior, which meant she probably spoke like this all the time. Was that less concerning or more?

    The one Nagato recognized as Thresher raised an eyebrow, "No hiding under her bed, huh? What about in it?"

    "Only if you give her a hug!" Sotoyomo said seriously. "And you don't steal her sheets, or her blankets, or her pillows, or her pillowcases, or her mattress, or her pajamas, or the tags that say 'Do not remove under penalty of law.'"

    "What?" Thresher exclaimed loudly. "We would never steal her mattress tags!"

    "Ox-poopies! I had to go to Everett and buy a new mattress because I couldn't find one with tags on either base." Sotoyomo glared with the fury of a thousand helldivers. "Do you know how hard it is to sail across the sound while holding a mattress out of the water? Especially when the wind starts gusting? If her mattress tags go missing, so does your internet access!"

    Thresher went pale. "You wouldn't dare."

    Sotoyomo just looked at her with an air of silent menace that completely erased their twenty centimeter height difference.

    Nagato's mind whirled as she watched the confrontation. Her diplomatic instincts were screaming that this conversation was more important than it seemed, but she was missing whatever piece of knowledge she needed to make sense of it.

    Was "mattress tag" code for something else, like diplomatic reports? Possible, but it didn't feel right. The conversation was flowing too naturally, and they were having it too publicly. They probably were actually arguing over mattress tags, which meant it was the context, not the subject that was important here.

    What was the context? A public argument, where Sotoyomo threatened to use her apparently extensive authority to heavily punish one of the most respected submarines in the world if any of them stepped out of line? That felt closer, but still wrong. Thresher was taking it seriously, and so were Harder and the other nearby subs that were obviously eavesdropping. None of them acted like they were seeing the wrong end of a power trip or heavy-handed preemptive discipline. Sotoyomo was sending a message that they understood.

    Nagato saw Sotoyomo threatening heavy punishment for a trivial crime and making demands for strict courtesy in an area that didn't matter. That didn't make any sense, so what wasn't she seeing?

    Heavy punishment for a serious crime and demands for strict courtesy in areas that do matter? Was Sotoyomo saying that she would look the other way if the submarines went too far? That idea didn't mix with the threat of disproportionate retribution. Thresher was acting like she believed it, and that it wasn't disproportionate.

    If anything, she was acting like… Nagato scanned the onlookers' faces again. There was something else missing here. Harder. Her personality was widely known even in Japan, and that personality was not someone who quietly observed from the sidelines. But here she was, watching the byplay with an intensely serious gaze. It was almost like the expression Nagato would expect to see on a capital ship listening to 'casual' comments about an upcoming mission from a trusted authority outside her chain of command.

    Come to think of it, Thresher was acting contrary to expectations too. Nagato had gotten the impression from her studies that she was seen as the serious sub in the American fleet and something of a leader for them all. Granted, that was only in comparison to the others, but it was another sign that something strange was happening here.

    "The admiral would never authorize something like that," Thresher frantically said, to which a stony-faced Sotoyomo pulled out a folded sheet of paper and brandished it like a live depth charge.

    Harder snatched the paper from her hand and began reading it.

    "Holy shit, the CNO signed off on this! Says here she can revoke anyone's internet access for any reason. Navy-wide, not just shipgirls or Hat Island. Up to O-6."

    Nagato stared down at the tiny tugboat in astonishment. What was this girl's rank!

    "Mmhmm." Sotoyomo put her free hand on her hip and proudly stood as tall as she could without going up on her toes. "My hall monitor duties have officially been expanded to the internet. That means new shipgirls have to hold my hand whenever they go online until they've been properly trained about the dangers of Facebook and Reddit and hot singles in our area."

    "What! That's, that's…" Thresher exploded, only to lose steam a second later. Her shoulders sagged as she grudgingly spit through clenched teeth. "Probably a good idea, dammit. Fine, the mattress tags are safe."

    "And the rest?" Sotoyomo asked archly.

    "That was a lot of random shit. We'll try to remember it all, but no promises."

    "That's alright, I made a list! With copies for everyone!" Sotoyomo exclaimed as she pulled an accordion folder from her internal spaces with Things Subgirls Are Not Allowed to Do to Miss Nagatoro scribbled on the front. In Crayon. "Make sure you study it good because everything on it comes with a zero strike policy attached!"

    Thresher's face fell while Harder took the folder from Sotoyomo, pulled out a packet for herself, and then passed it on to a girl sitting at the table behind her.

    "Anyways," Sotoyomo continued as she slipped her hand out of Nagato's grip. "I'm gonna go get Miss Nagatoro some steak and potatoes and sushi. Have fun while I'm gone!"

    The tiny tugboat dashed over to the serving counter, leaving Nagato with a sudden awkward silence and two very famous submarines that were not smiling at her.

    "Ah, hello," Nagato said as she tried to regain her balance. "It's good to meet—"

    "We don't fucking want you." Harder's flat words cut her off. "We don't fucking need you. We've got better things to do than babysit some useless battlecow."

    The sound of a scraping chair made Nagato look back to see Escanaba trying to stand up with a thunderous look on her face while Samuel B. Roberts and Johnston forced her back down with a hand on each shoulder. It looked like the Taffy Three members had whatever it was under control, so she turned her attention to wrestling with her feelings.

    She felt one part anger at the blatant disrespect, one part frustration that she couldn't do anything about it except inform the admiral because she had no authority here, one part despair that she might have failed her mission before it even began, and one part determination to keep trying anyway.

    This was the difficulty Admiral Yanagi had spoken of, and he sent her anyway. This mission wasn't impossible. The response she chose here could weld over the hatch that Harder had just slammed in her face, though, so she chose her words carefully while the two subs challenged her with burning gazes.

    "What do you want and need then?" she asked, carefully keeping any hint of sarcasm out of her voice and hoping that the bluntness would not offend an American kanmusu like it would Japanese.

    Thresher and Harder exchanged an unreadable glance.

    "We want ice cream machines," Thresher said.

    "And we need to be let off the leash," Harder finished.

    Ah. She should have known.

    Nothing showcased the difference between World War Two and the Abyssal War more than submarine combat. In the old days, submarines were at their deadliest when attacking supply lines. It was a rare accomplishment to sink an actual warship, and only one ever sank an enemy sub in underwater combat. These days, nobody knew where Abyssal supplies came from, and their cargo ships were safe in Abyssal-held waters. Sub-on-sub combat was the norm now, and it was the most difficult and brutal in this war.

    Subgirls in contested waters stayed on the surface as little as possible, only coming up to recharge their batteries at night. The rest of their time was spent as close to crush depth as they could sustain, silently creeping along in the lightless waters while they listened for the telltale sounds of enemy subs doing the same. Neither side wasted torpedoes that would both miss and alert the enemy to their presence, opting instead for knives and teeth. At those depths and pressures, victory went to whoever made the first strike. Even a small cut on the arm could compromise a submarine's hull integrity enough to let the pressure crush her like an empty soda can. One could easily die without realizing she was in danger if the enemy caught her by surprise.

    Many navies were unwilling to accept the casualty rate no matter what kill ratio the subs achieved. Even scouts that were given explicit orders to refuse combat regularly disappeared, and so the US Navy decided to confine their submarine fleet to near-shore patrols until they could find a solution.

    Nagato bowed.

    "I understand. Ice cream machines must obviously wait until someone figures out how to refit a shipgirl. I do not have authority to assign war patrols, but will be working closely with Admiral Edwards and will see if I can sway his opinion on the matter."

    Harder sneered. "You don't understand shit, you goddamn REMF," she said before turning on her heel and stalking off towards a nearby table with Thresher at her side, leaving the battleship feeling like she was taking on water.

    "Well, that could have gone better, but it could have gone worse too," Sotoyomo cheerily remarked as she slid her hand back into Nagato's while balancing an absurdly large tray of food in the other.

    "Are you sure about that?" Nagato bitterly asked before she could curb the impulse.

    "Yup! You'll know they're really angry if they start getting all polite at you." The tiny tugboat's ever-present smile melted away. "Poor Bennington still doesn't get it. She thinks they respect her." After a moment, she shook herself and perked up again. "But now you're here to attach everyone so it'll be okay. I believe in you!"

    Nagato smiled softly. "I appreciate your confidence," she said, somewhat surprised at how honest the words were.

    "No problem, Miss Nagatoro!" Sotoyomo said while she led her to an empty table near the submarines' claimed territory.

    "It's Nagato," she said softly.

    "What?" Sotoyomo asked quizzically.

    "Ah, I'm sorry," Nagato apologized as she sat down. She hadn't even realized that she'd said that out loud. "My name is Nagato, not Nagatoro."

    "Oh, crap, I'm sorry! Names are important, so I'll definitely get it right next time!"

    Sotoyomo dragged Nagato down into a pair of chairs and started dividing up the food while muttering, "Nagato, Nagato, Nagatotoro, Nagano, Nagatorohnoit's Nagato, Nagato." The tiny tugboat looked up at her again. "How do you spell that? Wait, I already know, it's n a g a t o, right? Nagato. Like the bad word, except completely different, so not like it at all. Na ga toe."

    The look of concentration cleared up and Sotoyomo smiled widely. "Is she a Balao? Nah, Gato!" She gasped. "Are you a submarine in disguise?"

    "No, I am not a submarine in disguise," Nagato said, trying to hide her amusement at the silly question.

    "That's exactly what an undercover French submarine would say!"

    Nagato raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out how France came into this. "The Gato-class are French?"

    Sotoyomo shot a wary glance at the girls one table over. "You didn't hear it from me, but Croaker seems a little suspicious. I'm pretty sure I saw her eat a soufluffle once."

    Nagato's amusement grew a little more. It was almost enough to make her forget—

    Good feelings lost, her eyes snapped to the television, and she no longer had an excuse to look away.

    The camera, likely onboard a helicopter, zoomed in to show Zuikaku collapsed on her hands and knees with injuries that would have been fatal to a human and great gouts of smoke and flame pouring out of them. Nagato's counterpart in Japan, the American attaché, USS Salt Lake City, had pulled alongside her to help fight the fire.

    Would it be enough? It was already a miracle that the carrier hadn't gone up with a gas explosion, and the cruiser would be much wiser to back away instead of trying to help.

    American ships excelled at damage control though, especially those who survived late into the war, and Nagato knew from bitter, personal experience that Salt Lake City did. Two atomic detonations hadn't been enough to sink her, which was more than Nagato had managed.

    Sotoyomo squeezed her hand briefly and then asked, "How bad is it, Harder?"

    Nagato kept her gaze on the television, but she still caught Thresher's pointed look out of the corner of her eye, as well as Sotoyomo's small nod in return.

    "Shit's fucked," the Harder bluntly said. "But it could be more fucked.

    "There's only one ship and she's going toe-to-toe with the entire Yokosuka garrison, but nobody's sunk yet and civilian deaths are a lot lighter than expected. She got the runways and a taxiing cargo plane at Haneda with a surprise bombing run, but the fleet reacted fast enough to steal her attention away from the terminals and hangars.

    "Anybody who's not fighting is freaking out trying to figure out who she is and how she got into the bay. Heads are going to roll when this is all over, only question is how many and who."

    The news camera panned up from Zuikaku to focus on a lone figure far out in the bay. Darkness, distance, and Abyssal interference made it difficult to see anything, but Nagato was still able to get an impression of blazing red eyes, psychotic grin, and a colossal tail with armored head and turrets in the illumination of her muzzle flash.

    "She's a battlecarrier, but way more dangerous than any Ise could hope to be, even with mysterious Princess bullshit. She's got nine sixteen-fifties in triple turrets. Familiar, right? American planes too, but more than any two carriers we ever built."

    Nagato carefully kept her attention on the television and suppressed any questions about how Harder had obtained access to this information so quickly and so discreetly. She didn't know American OpSec rules after all, and held no rank in their navy.

    "There's no sign of a Princess storm, and even the normal anti-tech fuckery is weaker than you'd expect. Half the spooks think it's because all that magic is being channeled into some hidden super-bullshit like Crown Princess has while the other half think she's actually a new original class, and nobody can decide which idea's worse."

    Nagato couldn't either. Crown Princess was arguably the most dangerous Abyssal in the world. Central Princess and whatever haunted Bikini Atoll might be able to compete, but they stayed still while she roamed erratically, murdering both kanmusu and Abyssals without any discernible pattern beyond a preference for battleships.

    If it was a new class, they wouldn't have to deal with the esoteric effects that made Princesses so dangerous, but the tradeoff would be more ships out there who could single-handedly fight an entire kanmusu fleet at once, negating the quality advantage that they used to push back against the endless Abyssal tide.

    "She's also batshit insane, which is both good and bad. Nobody's sunk yet because she keeps switching targets, but she rigged all of her planes for Kamikaze strikes and sent most of them after the carriers right from the start. The destroyers and cruisers shot down at least half of them, but plenty still got through. Akagi's the only one left with a working flight deck but she still lost half her planes. Good news is, the psycho bitch can't use most of her AA 'cause she's in the middle of a slugging match with Yamato and Musashi. The subs managed to sneak in ahead of her course too. If she doesn't pull out any more Abyssal bullshit, they'll be able to triple-team her. Might even be able to win without anyone sinking.

    Harder stopped talking after she said her piece, Sotoyomo too. The tiny tugboat still held Nagato's hand while they watched the news together, though, and she found that she didn't really mind it.

    This chapter got too big, so you're going to get more than one for Nagato's interlude. Hopefully a little quicker than this one came out.
     
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  • Threadmarks
    • So on one hand I like this chapter for it is written well and written good. On the other hand I had to go back and reread the last chapter to make sure this was the same story that I remembered it being, so maybe you should put the word 'interlude' in the threadmark so that it's clear what this is instead of only having in a spoiler on the bottom?
     
    Happerry said:
    So on one hand I like this chapter for it is written well and written good. On the other hand I had to go back and reread the last chapter to make sure this was the same story that I remembered it being, so maybe you should put the word 'interlude' in the threadmark so that it's clear what this is instead of only having in a spoiler on the bottom?
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    That's a good idea. I've gone ahead and made the change. Thanks.
     
    Chapter 9: Nagato interlude 2
  • Threadmarks
    • Chapter 1
    • Allen exists.
    • Allen's clothes exist. She likes them.
    • Allen panics.
    • Allen decides not to do philosophy.
    • Allen sails west.

    Chapter 2
    • Allen finds out she's sharkproof.
    • Allen learns she can refuel by eating raw shark.
    • Allen goes all ship and finds out that her nature is total philosophy bait.
    • Allen trips and falls on her face, saving herself from a fit of accidental philosophy.
    • Allen loses her shark and feels really stupid.

    Chapter 3
    • Allen gets stuck in a freaky storm.
    • Allen uses her radio to chat with a mentally ill ship who coincidentally happens to be in the same direction as the center of the freaky storm.

    Chapter 4
    • Allen envies Fletchers for their everything.
    • A mentally ill carrier attacks Allen.
    • Allen pretends to be the mentally ill carrier's friend to get her to stop attacking.
    • Allen finds out the mentally ill carrier's name is Liscome Bay.
    • Allen responds to a mentally ill Liscome Bay's distress call.

    Chapter 5
    • Allen gets angry at whatever hurt Liscome Bay, then she gets frustrated that getting angry doesn't help.
    • Allen decides to stop being angry and frustrated, it doesn't work. This makes her angry and frustrated.
    • Not enough. Not enough. Not enough.
    • Allen takes advantage of Liscome Bay's mental illness to get in close. This makes her feel guilty.
    • Allen tries to make Liscome Bay feel better. It doesn't work.

    Chapter 6
    • Allen gets shot at.
    • Allen finds out that fire hurts.
    • Allen tries to talk Liscome Bay down in order to make herself feel less guilty about her impending murder. It doesn't work, and it doesn't work.
    • Allen goes swimming.
    • Allen shoots a mentally ill carrier in the back.

    Chapter 7
    • Allen decides not to have a mental breakdown until after she's watched at least 13 friends die.
    • Allen makes terrible plans to go in the wrong direction and tell the navy about stuff they already know.
    • Harder calls Allen a stupid bitch. This greatly improves her mental state.

    Chapter 8
    • Nagato goes to America to try and attach the submarines.
    • Nagato meets a tiny tugboat named Sotoyomo who says concerning things and has concerning amounts of authority.
    • Nagato learns her home is under attack and decides to go socialize. She is confident that she is good at decisions.
    • Nagato meets a Coast Guard cutter who does as Coast Guard cutters do.
    • Nagato meets a creepy, pathetic battleship named Maryland and promises to hang out with her.
    • Nagato meets some submarines. They don't like her, but promise not to steal her stuff under penalty of internet blackout.
    • Nagato pretends not to listen while the submarines tell the tiny tugboat about all the terrible things happening in Tokyo. Nobody broke any OPSEC regulations.

    Nagato was pleasantly surprised to find that she had been put up in a house instead of in the dorms. Mostly. Her ship instincts would have preferred berthing with others nearby, but she still was not able to relax in Maryland's presence and so a private dwelling away from the capital ship dorms was very welcome. The privacy also allowed her to mentally prepare for what she expected to be a very difficult conversation.

    Pacing in the hallway outside of her home office, she couldn't help but be bothered by the barrenness of the walls. The house had come fully furnished, but it did not have any of the touches that would make it into a home, even a temporary one. Maybe she could ask some of the girls in Japan to send her pictures? She could also make a foray into Everett on her day off and see if there were any art dealers in the area.

    Nagato heard the chime of an incoming video call on the computer that she had left powered on in the next room and stopped pacing immediately. She closed her eyes, taking in a slow, deep breath while clenching her fists as hard as she could, holding it for a few seconds, and then letting it out just as slowly while she let her hands relax, then she opened the door and turned on the lights.

    The room was bare, of course, with that blank, white look that modern architects seemed so fond of. An old-style metal desk sat facing the opposite wall with a desktop computer and two monitors on top. Given that it was intended to be used by shipgirls, she suspected that the desk had been chosen both for its durability and its familiarity, a kind gesture to help ease their transition into the modern world.

    Nagato, however, was not averse to modern technology. Clicking on the green icon in the middle of the screen was a simple matter, and it was one that let her speak with Yamato face to face despite the distance in between.

    "Hello, Yamato speaking." Her kouhai said pleasantly. "Good afternoon, Nagato-sempai. Or, night for you, I suppose."

    Yamato's shoulders were bare, and Nagato could easily recognize the repair baths in the background. Her expected repair time must be quite long if she had requested a computer and desk tray to use in the pool. Or perhaps she was using a cellular phone instead? If she understood correctly, they were more water resistant than computers.

    Yamato's face did not bear any trace of her no-doubt extensive injuries, but she was not quite able to hide her emotions from her senpai. Yamato had been quite surprised and nervous when she learned that she was more famous and revered in these times than Nagato was. Nagato had been as well, but that had not stopped her from giving it her all in teaching the younger battleship how to wield that influence responsibly and effectively, and the two of them had grown to know each other very well in the process.

    "Hello Yamato-san." Nagato smiled softly for a moment before switching to a more serious expression that hopefully hid her own nervousness. "How bad is it?"

    "Nobody sank," Yamato replied in her characteristically gentle manner. "Every kanmusu present fought valiantly and skillfully, the property damage is simple to repair, and human casualties were as low as anybody could hope for."

    Nagato would have found the words comforting, but Yamato's smile was weak and thin. When the larger battleship stopped speaking, she knew that she would need to press a little.

    "Please continue."

    Yamato looked away. "We can't find her body. The Abyssal. She sank in only twelve meters of water, but there's nothing at that location. The submarines have been searching every centimeter of the bay that they can safely reach and a steelhull American submarine is searching the areas that are too deep for them. Neither have found any sign of a contact or Abyssal interference. The fleet was between her and the mouth of the bay, and no one has reported her coming ashore despite the combined camera coverage of the military, news, and civilians.

    "We do not know how she entered the bay or what has happened to her. Our preliminary investigation has found no error or dereliction on the part of any of the kanmusu or humans who were keeping watch, and most of their testimonies can be verified with camera footage.

    "The only thing we think we are certain of is that she was a new original class, not a princess. She spoke too little to be a new princess, interference with modern technology was too low to be an old princess, she does not match any ship made before or during the war, and she displayed no obvious signs of supernatural abilities beyond whatever allowed her pass unseen. This battle has officially been recognized as the first known encounter with a Re-class Abyssal.

    "The government and citizens are demanding answers that we do not have. They think the Re-class might still be alive and hiding somewhere in Tokyo Bay. Admiral Yanagi intends to take full responsibility for the failed defense of Tokyo if we cannot find those answers before the evening news."

    Nagato closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, grateful that she was receiving this news in private from one of the few kanmusu that would not be scared or disappointed if she lost her composure.

    She understood the Admiral's reasoning. The citizenry needed to have confidence in the kanmusu, so unwarranted blame could not be turned on any of them. The same was true of the rest of the military. It was best for everyone if responsibility was laid at the feet of an individual rather than the system. That individual also needed to be important enough to actually affect the battle or else the masses would see him for the scapegoat that he was.

    It was the same kind of reasoning that had filled most levels of the Imperial Navy and Imperial Army officer corps with incompetent simpletons before the war had even started and saw the few true strategists forced out, killed, or driven to suicide at the first turn of bad luck. It was the same stupid inflexibility that would see her lose her second war for the same stupid reasons.

    Nagato took a deep breath and beat back the urge to start issuing orders. She trusted Yamato's judgment, her foresight, and her ability. This was the time to ask for instructions, not give them. After a moment, she opened her eyes and asked her kouhai, "What do you need me to do?"

    "This incident has convinced the American government that their lack of battleships is a strategic weakness which must be fixed as soon as possible. USS Constitution has sent an invitation for you to observe their next summoning attempt in your capacity as a naval attache, which will be held in two days."

    Yamato bowed as deeply as her computer setup would allow.

    "I, Yamato, humbly request that you accept the invitation and ask for what support she can give to Admiral Yanagi. I believe that outside support from our allies, especially from her, will help calm the public and aid our attempts to convince the Prime Minister that the Admiral is still needed. We hope to arrange for him to be reassigned to a forward base and given command of a small fleet dedicated to conducting offensive operations. The public should accept the decision if it is presented as a demotion in all but name." The battleship frowned sadly. "It will not be a lie or half-truth either. His career will not survive the war, even if he does."

    Nagato considered for a moment, tapping the metal surface of her desk. The name USS Constitution carried a lot of weight, even outside of America. Kanmusu and military personnel respected her for her history and seniority, civilians respected her for her honesty and integrity, and politicians respected her for ruthless competence and vast network of influential connections. She may not be in charge, but those who are listen when she speaks.

    "No," she said at last, and the way that Yamato's face fell was more than painful. This would not help the other woman's self-confidence, and she would probably remember it the next time Nagato told her she trusted her judgment, no matter how true it was, but this course of action would not help.

    "I will speak with her about our troubles, and I will accept her aid if she offers any that we can accept without compromising ourselves, but we cannot ask a member of the American government to interfere with the inner workings of the JMSDF and Japanese politics. I struggle to think of a course of action that would appear more corrupt, and that appearance would help neither the Admiral nor us." Nagato shook her head. "The solution will need to come from within Japan."

    Yamato smiled sadly and said, "I understand, and thank you for your wisdom, senpai. We will continue looking for other ways to help the Admiral," and Nagato's suspicions rose instantly.

    Kanmusu may be known for rapid mood swings compared to normal humans, but Yamato was not a destroyer who changed direction at the slightest whim. She took time to recover from blows to her confidence, though most people wouldn't know due to how closely she guarded her feelings out in public. Yamato was acting the way she did when she was putting on a show for somebody.

    Did she suspect that the Americans were monitoring their communications? Or the Japanese government? Or was it for the benefit of eavesdropping kanmusu? There were many different ways that she could leverage this conversation depending on who was listening and what her goal was, and Nagato had no idea what she intended.

    Nagato smiled a little bit, using the smile she only ever wore when her kouhai came up with a particularly clever and unexpected answer during one of their lessons, and the younger ship straightened up in response. She sincerely hoped that Yamato knew how proud of her Nagato felt just then. It seemed that Yamato had just graduated from piece to player, and she would be a formidable one.

    The moment passed, as moments do, and Nagato brought out her best stern glare.

    "Your concern for the Admiral is commendable, as is your willingness to do whatever it takes to help him, but you need to consider your own position too. It will help nobody if people start thinking that we are more loyal to him than we are to Japan! And what if the destroyers heard you? They'd start thinking that this kind of behavior is acceptable!"

    Yamato flustered in exactly the same way she did when she was got deep into her performance during a roleplay lesson, and Nagato almost smiled again. She must be getting rusty to have not noticed it from the start.

    "Yes senpai!" She cried, splashing the bathwater as she bowed repeatedly towards the camera. "Thank you for your wisdom, I will consider your words and do better in the future!"

    "See that you do," Nagato grumbled. "You need to remember that our kanmusu look up to you as an example."

    "Yes, senpai." Yamato said again, in her more usual, restrained manner. "Again, thank you for instructing me."

    The two of them fell into silence, Yamato waiting while Nagato considered what advice she could openly give.

    "Unfortunately," she said at last. "I can't give you much advice when all my information is second-hand, and I must stay here until my mission is complete."

    "Since I cannot be there to help you," Nagato gave her best, 'there will be consequences if you don't follow my instructions' glare and said, "You should ask Mikasa for help. She will know who you need to speak with."

    Yamato swallowed apprehensively and said, "Y-yes, senpai."

    Nagato suppressed a feral grin. Mikasa was the closest any nation had to a kanmusu like Constitution, but their personalities couldn't have been more different. Constitution was inspiring, an icon of incorruptible strength and vigor. Mikasa was content to sit back and let younger ships lead the charge, right up until somebody needed a furious grandmother who could cow the most hardened criminal with her words alone, and was both willing and able to make anyone foolish enough to ignore those words regret their choices in life.


    ***​


    Nagato followed a footpath from her house towards the cafeteria, and, in doing so, she found that she quite enjoyed the night air in Washington. Or perhaps it was just the isolation of Hat Island that eased her tension. Her surroundings exuded an air of soothing tranquility that felt a little bit like home despite being in a foreign country.

    She was a bit surprised to discover that the cafeteria was still in use at this late hour, though. Two unfamiliar cruisers and a destroyer exited the building as she approached, chatting happily about something she couldn't make out. She felt the corners of her lips turn up as she watched them leave, until she irritatedly noticed that they had forgotten to turn off the lights. Yes, it was somewhat convenient for her, but it was still careless and wasteful.

    Nagato only realized that the building wasn't empty when she entered and glanced at one of the tables in a corner. She caught a glimpse of the back of Maryland's blue-gray uniform, bent over a table that faced the flickering television before she startled at the sound of the opening door.

    "Wha— I'm awake! Look, Atlanta, I already promised…" The other battleship's annoyed expression faded away as she realized who she was speaking to. "Oh, hi," she softly said before turning away and returning to her hunched posture.

    "Hello Miss Maryland," Nagato returned her greeting, pretending not to notice that the American's eyes were red and damp. "I deeply apologize about failing to inform you I would not be able to accept your invitation to dinner. I hope you were not waiting f—"

    "Shut up," Maryland said.

    "I'm… sorry?" Nagato replied, taken aback. "Have I offended you?"

    "Stop apologizing! Just… just shut up."

    Nagato stopped her approach just out of the other battleship's reach, at a loss for what she should do.

    "You know, most of us don't understand how big of a deal it is that you're over here." Maryland said thickly. "I think Sotoyomo gets it, but everybody else? They think you're just another battleship. They see Yamato on the news and think that she's in charge. They don't know that you could restart the war with a single word. But here you come in and start apologizing before I can figure out how."

    "I—" Nagato tried and failed to interject.

    "And yeah, I know you wouldn't do that over something this little. That's not the kind of person you are. But even if you somehow set all of that aside and forget it? I was still thoughtless and cruel, and that's not the kind of person I want to be." Maryland took in a quick shallow breath. "I'm sorry."

    "I accept your apology," Nagato instantly, but inadequately responded.

    "Thanks."

    Nagato stood still, watching Maryland's bent figure while she tried to figure out what to do next. Whatever was bothering the other battleship obviously went beyond this.

    "What are you watching?" she finally asked, leaping on the first subject that caught her attention."

    "Al-Jazeera," Maryland said with a little laugh that held no happiness. "They're reporting on The Battle of Tokyo Bay, along with every other news organization on the planet. It was a nasty wake-up call for the civilians. They've gotten so used to us winning against the normal Abyssals that they almost forgot we haven't won the war yet. A new clusterfuck that doesn't involve Crown Princess? That shit's surprising. The last one most of them heard about was Hawaii. You can't exactly keep those kinds of losses a secret, especially when the leftover only got away by drawing the short straw for Puget Sound Guard Duty.

    "Your poker face is shit, by the way," Maryland said, changing the topic with rapidity that felt like it should have come from Sotoyomo. "Everybody could tell how much you wished you were there instead of here, not a good look for an 'attacher' if you ask me. Don't worry though, nobody's gonna give you crap over it." Her voice turned bitter and mocking. "They all know they'd feel the same in your shoes."

    Nagato pulled together her courage and took the last step between them. Maryland flinched, but didn't otherwise move when she touched her on the shoulder. "What's wrong, Maryland?" she asked softly.

    Maryland's shoulder trembled under her touch for a few seconds, and then she said in a small, fragile voice. "I'm glad I wasn't there, in Hawaii."

    The enormity of those simple words settled on Nagato's shoulders like the weight of Honshu. What was she supposed to say to someone who saw herself as a coward? Maryland's presence would have not changed what happened in Hawaii. She would have become just another prisoner in her own body when she found out the hard way that American ships could not refuse Central Princess's orders. Holding her back from the mission had been a sensible, and ultimately vindicated precaution. Maryland was not a fool. She already knew all that, she just didn't believe any of it.

    Would Nagato even believe her own words if she tried to offer consolation? A large part of herself agreed that Maryland was a coward. It was the same part of herself that had not tried very hard to attend their dinner appointment, and the same part that told her to just leave now. This was a problem that could not be solved with words, and what did Nagato have to offer other than words? She had no responsibility or love for Maryland anyway.

    Nagato sat down in the chair next to Maryland and offered the only honest words of comfort she could, "I'm glad you weren't there too."

    There were very few people in this world who deserved the same fate as the ships who went to Hawaii, and someone who believed that cowardice was shameful could not be one of them.

    Maryland's voice hitched. "Thanks."

    Nagato sat in silence. She had tried, and that was all she could say. Her words had obviously done little to assuage the American's suffering, and now she could make one of three choices.

    She could go, absolve herself of any responsibility and leave Maryland to her thoughts. There would likely be no repercussions because Maryland would never repeat this conversation to anyone else. She would continue to suffer in silence and her fleet would never know what was wrong. They would continue to think she was simply grieving, and, over time, their sympathy would turn to scorn as they wondered why she was the only one who couldn't move on when they had all lost comrades.

    She could stay and offer silent support, comfort in another person who knew the truth even if she could not counter Maryland's thoughts. It would be uncomfortable, and she was not sure if an American would appreciate the gesture, but it was both morally and practically superior. She did not want to be the kind of person who would ignore a ship in distress. It would also advance her mission to come to understand how the American ships operated in a social context, and a genuinely friendly relationship with a ship as influential as Maryland would be useful if their nations ever became hostile to each other.

    Lastly, she could actually try to help Maryland. It improved on all the advantages of the second choice, but the things she would need to say were dangerous, both for herself and for others. No more dangerous than what Maryland had risked tonight, though.

    "Have you spoken with," her grasp of English momentarily failed her. "With a mind doctor about this?"

    Maryland snorted, a thick and garbled sound. "Of course not. Those quacks would have me declared unfit for duty faster than Helena can re-load."

    "I think you should reconsider," Nagato said gently.

    Maryland looked up and glared at her with her bloodshot eyes.

    "I'm not crazy!"

    "You are not crazy," Nagato stated with certainty that she believed but did not feel. "Neither are you a coward."

    Maryland recoiled as if Nagato had struck her.

    "I do not think it will be helpful for you either. The doctor's treatment will most likely be ineffective. It may even cause you harm. Yet, I still think you should reconsider."

    "Then why should I do it!" Maryland asked as frustration began to edge out self-pity. "What's the goddamn point!"

    "Mental health care is only now reaching the point that medical care did in our time. They have rooted out the treatments that never helped anyone and are starting to figure out how to help those who are different from everyone else. I believe treatment at the hands of a competent professional would greatly benefit most humans in the same circumstances."

    "But we're not human,"Maryland said bitterly.

    Nagato shook her head. "We are human, but we are not only human. We have experiences no human ever could. More than that, the world has changed. I have often felt like I am visiting a foreign country while lying in my bed at home, and I am confident most Kanmusu have shared that feeling at some point.

    "The modern world is alien to us, and we are alien to it. They do not have the experience needed to effectively treat kanmusu.

    "I still believe you should reconsider your decision, though."

    Maryland's frustration had ebbed while Nagato spoke, and the Japanese woman could visibly see her counterpart begin to focus her true attention towards her. She was finally beginning to look like a battleship.

    Maryland's gaze pierced her, trying to root her to the spot under the sheer weight of her presence.

    "Why?"

    "Because the kanmusu in Hawaii will need experienced doctors when they come home," Nagato told her.

    Maryland stopped moving, body more still than any born human could manage. A few heartbeats passed, and then a complex series of emotions played across her face.

    "You really think we can save them?" She asked in a voice laced with hope, despair, and anger all at once. "No bullshit just to make me feel better?"

    "Yes," Nagato replied. "It will not happen soon, but it will happen. So long as we win the war."

    Maryland stared intently at her for a few seconds.

    "How?"

    "Central Princess doesn't have authority over foreign ships. Your allies will need to invade for you."

    Maryland's face twisted into a rictus snarl. "If you think for even one goddamn second–"

    "I do not," Nagato swiftly cut her off. "Japan should not be party to that unless every other option has been exhausted. There is too much history involved."

    Nobody in their right mind would tell an American kanmusu that they should let Japan attack Pearl Harbor. Even if someone actually survived making the proposal, the Japanese kanmusu would be split down the middle between girls who would go to any length to get out of it and girls who would be too eager to try again, and Nagato didn't want to know which was which. There was also a significant risk that Central Princess had another special ability that specifically targeted Japanese ships.

    "I believe this is why America is taking a 'Europe first' approach to the war. You are uniquely suited to help them with their enemies, and they are the only non-Japanese polity with the strength in battleships needed to challenge Central Princess.

    "Such an arrangement would also allow the United States to receive the needed aid without ceding territory in Hawaii."

    Maryland chewed her lower lip. "That does make sense. I suppose. It would explain why they sent Enterprise to the Atlantic and Salt Lake City to Japan."

    Nagato nodded in agreement. "Diplomatically, Enterprise should have been my counterpart. She is too symbolically important to send into combat for anything less than a strategically vital objective that only she can accomplish.

    "My government has also been conspicuously silent about the insult that keeping her away from Japan implies. Either they are as ignorant of my influence with the Japanese fleet as your kanmusu are, or they know she is being held back for something vital. I do not believe they are ignorant."

    Maryland stewed on that for a bit, tapping her finger hard enough to dent the heavy steel table that was common in all kanmusu dining areas while she did.

    "Her reputation would go a long way towards convincing the European fleets to help us when they're done over there. You think she's there for combat too, not just for politics? Why?"

    Nagato nodded.

    "Politics and public relation gestures would not be sufficient to persuade Europe to offer a deal that America could tolerate. It will require widespread, genuine gratitude from the general population, politicians, and kanmusu of half a dozen nations, the kind of gratitude that can only be gained by saving them from an enemy they cannot defeat themselves. I believe they are sending her to attack Battlecruiser Anchorage Princess."

    Maryland froze, and Nagato started frantically reviewing what she had just said to figure out how she could have unwittingly offended the American again. It took her longer than she was comfortable admitting to notice that Maryland's face was slowly turning the same shade as a freshly boiled lobster.

    "I, uh…" Maryland stammered.

    Suspicions more than just aroused, Nagato bit her tongue to keep from asking Maryland if she even knew who Battlecruiser Anchorage Princess was. Directness to the point of being rude may be working well with the Americans so far, but there was still a limit to how far she could push.

    The American looked away. "Battlecruiser Anchorage Princess? Really? Why do you think they need Enterprise of all ships to handle her?"

    Ah, Battlecruiser Anchorage Princess appeared a week after the attack on Pearl Harbor hadn't she? Maryland would have been occupied with other concerns at the time.

    "As you know, any kanmusu who approaches within a hundred miles of Mers-el-Kebir becomes unable to distinguish friend from foe." Maryland's head whipped back around at that. "Carriers who's aircraft approach the area suffer from the same affliction, though not among craft from the same vessel, thankfully. Whichever ship assaults the anchorage must do it alone, and if any carrier is capable of operating alone, it is Enterprise. It is also helpful that she carries nearly twice as many aircraft and none of the history of her British counterparts."

    "Shit, yeah, that does sound like something only she could pull off. What about accidentally hitting the wrong target, though? A hundred miles would put her closer to Spain than Algeria."

    "It would require careful positioning, but it is possible to arrange things so that Mers-el-Kebir is the closest major naval target when her aircraft enter the area. It must also be done as soon as possible, because that Princess has effectively blockaded the entire Mediterranean sea by virtue of her location. They cannot afford to wait for the most capable British carriers to appear, and they also cannot afford to make multiple attempts at attacking her lest her abilities increase in potency. It would be a disaster of the highest order if the effect adapted to affect normal humans."

    Abyssal Princesses tended to become less sane and more powerful the more they fought, a lesson that the Americans and the British had been taught especially thoroughly in their early encounters with Crown Princess. It was standard doctrine to avoid attacking a princess unless you knew that you could kill her on the first attempt. It was also standard doctrine to forbid firing upon Crown Princess with any weapon for any reason. It was fortunate that the Abyssal distortion that princesses emitted was so mild around her that she could be tracked via satellite. It gave them enough advanced warning to evacuate civilians and kanmusu in her path, allowing them to avoid having to decide whether they should abandon the civilians to their fate or sacrifice kanmusu for what would amount to little more than a PR stunt.
    The same could not be said about Central Princess, who's area of influence was so large that even carriers could not attack her without entering the permanent typhoon centered on Pearl Harbor.

    Maryland fell quiet and turned her gaze back down to the table. Whether she was thinking about Enterprise or the ships in Hawaii, Nagato couldn't say. There was one thing that she did need to say, though, and this was the part where it got dangerous for her.

    "I have more advice if you are willing to hear it, and a request," Nagato said, steeling herself.

    Maryland's lips curled into a bitter smile.

    "There's more?"

    Nagato nodded despite the fact that the other battleship was no longer looking at her.

    "Yes, this time for your welfare rather than your comrades."

    "Go on then," Maryland said with an unconvincing air of dismissiveness.

    Nagato looked down at her hands, trying to figure out how to speak what was needed without saying things that she should not say. At long last, she looked up and said, "Please correct me if what I am about to say is incorrect or misses something important." She waited in silence until Maryland nodded hesitantly.

    "You escaped a terrible fate through blind chance. You feel guilt because you are relieved that you escaped when others who deserved that relief didn't."

    Maryland nodded again.

    "You try to tell yourself that you would risk suffering that same fate if you could save them, but are afraid that you wouldn't if you actually had to make that choice."

    Maryland nodded again.

    "You are even more ashamed at the relief you feel when somebody appears to be about to propose something that would force you to test your resolve and then doesn't."

    Maryland looked away, but her head still moved up and down a fraction.

    "My advice is to speak about your fears with someone who was not lucky enough to escape."

    Maryland's eyes widened in shock and Nagato held up a hand to forestall the obvious question.

    "I am not referring to Ashi. Fortunately or unfortunately, she is not available, does not remember much of her time as an Abyssal Princess, and would not be willing to discuss what she does remember. I also think there are fundamental differences between what she experienced and what you are afraid of.

    "There are others, though, kanmusu who were forced to take actions during the War that they would have vehemently refused if they had been able to. I think it would help you greatly if you spoke with them, and I think it would help them just as much." Nagato looked away. "If you are unable to find such a kanmusu in your fleet, I could introduce you to one. I think they are more common in the JMSDF than in your navy."

    "Who?" Maryland asked, mercifully not digging into her last comment and drawing Nagato's gaze back towards her.

    Nagato shook her head. "I must get her permission before I can say anything more. I will not break the trust of someone who confides in me."

    Maryland looked at her hard for a minute with that same frustratingly unreadable expression before saying, "I'll think about it."

    She put her hands on the table and pushed herself up into a standing position. "Anyway," she said as she produced a television remote from her skirt pocket and used it to turn off the electronic device, "You've been in America for half a day and nobody's fed you a hamburger, hot dog, or pizza yet. This is unforgivable."

    Nagato once heard an American MP at Yokosuka describe Mikasa to a visiting sailor with, "If you could distill pure, 'Fuck around and find out' energy, she'd be pouring everclear on her cornflakes."
     
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    • It lives! The world-building here is really making things even more interesting. Especially with the whole combat sanity debuffs the princesses get. Also nice to see mental health care being advocated - can't imagine any ship being free of some form of trauma.
     
    Soyvolon said:
    It lives! The world-building here is really making things even more interesting. Especially with the whole combat sanity debuffs the princesses get. Also nice to see mental health care being advocated - can't imagine any ship being free of some form of trauma.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...

    Enterprise especially, given that she had to more or less hold the pacific theater together as the US's only carrier for part of the war. That's a huge amount of pressure.
     
    CDRW said:
    We can't find her body. The Abyssal. She sank in only twelve meters of water, but there's nothing at that location. The submarines have been searching every centimeter of the bay that they can safely reach and a steelhull American submarine is searching the areas that are too deep for them. Neither have found any sign of a contact or Abyssal interference. The fleet was between her and the mouth of the bay, and no one has reported her coming ashore despite the combined camera coverage of the military, news, and civilians.
    Click to expand...
    Click to shrink...
    she survived and dug like some form of demented mole, didn't she?
     
    So, my muse decided that, instead of writing the story, I should write something to help my readers remember the story when the next chapter comes out in hopefully only six months. So, I present to you:

    Chapter 1
    • Allen exists.
    • Allen's clothes exist. She likes them.
    • Allen panics.
    • Allen decides not to do philosophy.
    • Allen sails west.

    Chapter 2
    • Allen finds out she's sharkproof.
    • Allen learns she can refuel by eating raw shark.
    • Allen goes all ship and finds out that her nature is total philosophy bait.
    • Allen trips and falls on her face, saving herself from a fit of accidental philosophy.
    • Allen loses her shark and feels really stupid.

    Chapter 3
    • Allen gets stuck in a freaky storm.
    • Allen uses her radio to chat with a mentally ill ship who coincidentally happens to be in the same direction as the center of the freaky storm.

    Chapter 4
    • Allen envies Fletchers for their everything.
    • A mentally ill carrier attacks Allen.
    • Allen pretends to be the mentally ill carrier's friend to get her to stop attacking.
    • Allen finds out the mentally ill carrier's name is Liscome Bay.
    • Allen responds to a mentally ill Liscome Bay's distress call.

    Chapter 5
    • Allen gets angry at whatever hurt Liscome Bay, then she gets frustrated that getting angry doesn't help.
    • Allen decides to stop being angry and frustrated, it doesn't work. This makes her angry and frustrated.
    • Not enough. Not enough. Not enough.
    • Allen takes advantage of Liscome Bay's mental illness to get in close. This makes her feel guilty.
    • Allen tries to make Liscome Bay feel better. It doesn't work.

    Chapter 6
    • Allen gets shot at.
    • Allen finds out that fire hurts.
    • Allen tries to talk Liscome Bay down in order to make herself feel less guilty about her impending murder. It doesn't work, and it doesn't work.
    • Allen goes swimming.
    • Allen shoots a mentally ill carrier in the back.

    Chapter 7
    • Allen decides not to have a mental breakdown until after she's watched at least 13 friends die.
    • Allen makes terrible plans to go in the wrong direction and tell the navy about stuff they already know.
    • Harder calls Allen a stupid bitch. This greatly improves her mental state.

    Chapter 8
    • Nagato goes to America to try and attach the submarines.
    • Nagato meets a tiny tugboat named Sotoyomo who says concerning things and has concerning amounts of authority.
    • Nagato learns her home is under attack and decides to go socialize. She is confident that she is good at decisions.
    • Nagato meets a Coast Guard cutter who does as Coast Guard cutters do.
    • Nagato meets a creepy, pathetic battleship named Maryland and promises to hang out with her.
    • Nagato meets some submarines. They don't like her, but promise not to steal her stuff under penalty of internet blackout.
    • Nagato pretends not to listen while the submarines tell the tiny tugboat about all the terrible things happening in Tokyo. Nobody broke any OPSEC regulations.

    Chapter 9
    • Re-class exists. Japan blames their admiral.
    • Yamato asks Nagato to do a stupid thing to save the admiral from stupid politicians. Nagato says no and concludes that Yamato is good at politics.
    • Nagato realizes that she forgot to hang out with the creepy, pathetic battleship when she finds the creepy, pathetic battleship definitely-not-crying alone.
    • Nagato decides that maybe she's being a little bit judgemental and tries to cheer up the creepy, pathetic battleship by telling her to get some therapy. This works.

    Now excuse me while I go edit it into the previous chapters.
     
    I've been working on a sidestory chapter, Sotoyomo's interview on 60 Minutes, and it should be ready for posting early next week.

    It does have Sotoyomo touching on sensitive IRL topics like LGBT rights and racism with her usual tact, so I could really use another pair of eyes to look at it before I post to make sure I'm not crossing any lines.
     
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    60 Minutes
  • Sidestory
    • This sidestory takes place well before the start of the main story.


    The episode of 60 Minutes opened with a woman sitting on a stool, alone on a black stage, and holding a sheet of paper in her hands. Behind her stood an enlarged version of a photograph known around the world. It had been taken by a tourist who illegally pulled his boat up next to the south tower of the Golden Gate Bridge in an effort to climb on top of the footing. It showed the shipgirl USS Enterprise in her white blouse, navy blue jacket, and a matching skirt. Her long blonde hair streamed behind her in the wind as she sailed out from underneath the bridge. The photographer had been just close enough to catch a side view of the calm determination on her face while she launched planes into the air with her rifle, seemingly unfazed by the salvo of battleship shells throwing great fountains of water into the air all around her.

    "They are heroes, saviors in our time of need. When the Abyssal tide came, women and girls appeared where the fighting was fiercest and beat them back with weapons of an age long past. Most of them suffered serious injuries in these battles. Some died.

    "Every person on earth is grateful for the timely appearance of these shipgirls, but their existence raises many questions. One of those girls has agreed to answer some of those questions. Tonight, on a special edition of Sixty Minutes, we will interview USS Sotoyomo."

    ***​

    The screen faded out and then came back in to show the same woman sitting in a plush white armchair. Across from her was a tiny girl in a blue dress uniform, complete with a little white sailor hat, several medals on her left breast, and a ribbon and a gold star on her right, plopped into a matching armchair that was far too large for her.

    She looked like a kid in a costume to most eyes. To sailor eyes, she also looked like a kid in a mostly accurate replica E-1 uniform with a few small mistakes, such as the star pinned next to her ribbon. To more knowledgeable sailor eyes, she looked like a kid in a mostly accurate uniform wearing a collection of awards that very few people in history would have been able to gather, none of whom would still be alive today. It was the kind of collection that would command the immediate respect of anyone who recognized them.

    "Hello Miss Minutes," the girl greeted the interviewer cheerfully, who looked decidedly less composed than she had during the introduction. "Thanks for inviting me!"

    The interviewer hesitated a moment before she put on a practiced smile and answered, "You are more than welcome, Miss Sotoyomo. I, and most of the world, are very curious about you and your fellow shipgirls. Thank you for agreeing to do an interview with us today. Would you care to tell us a little bit about yourself before we start?"

    The girl beamed and stuck out her chest, showing off her decorations. "I am the tugship USS Sotoyomo! I'm forty-three years old! Or seven years old! Or a hundred-ish years old! Or one year old! Or four hundred-ish years old! It kind of depends on how you define age," she put her finger on her chin and glanced up, "and time. But I think forty-three probably makes the most sense.

    "My hobbies are candy and writing letters to Santa to make sure he knows about people who deserve presents and guiding drunk battleships home at night to get them safely tucked into bed!

    "I'm here because someone thought that you wouldn't push a shipgirl who looks like a kid for answers to the really hard questions like, 'Are shipgirls people?' or, 'Are we sending child soldiers to fight and die in our stead?' or, 'Are shipgirls effectively slaves?' or, 'Can we trust young women who have enough firepower to level a small city to not abuse that power and splatter anyone who pisses them off?' or, 'Will my career survive bullying a small child with questions that keep good men awake at night?'

    "The answers are yes, no, it's complicated, yes, and I really hope so because you seem like a good person who knows that her job is an important part of making sure that the country she loves stays a country worth loving!"

    Sotoyomo jumped out of her chair, ran over to the interviewer, gave her a quick hug, and then ran back.

    The interviewer's face showed a feeling for a second, which one was impossible to tell. Then she straightened her blouse and schooled her expression back into something professional.

    "Well, that was a different sort of introduction than I expected, and," she looked slightly embarrassed, "it raises several new questions that I didn't prepare for."

    Sotoyomo beamed with pride. "You're welcome!"

    "Thank you," the interviewer responded smoothly. "Do you mind if I start with what I hope is one of the easier questions?"

    Sotoyomo nodded energetically and the interviewer said one word with a slightly bemused expression.

    "Tugship?"

    Sotoyomo nodded seriously at her.

    "Tugship. It's in my name USS, United States Ship. I've sailed across the Pacific Ocean, and boats don't do that unless they're insane. I have a battlestar too, you don't give battlestars to boats."

    She paused and then seemed to realize something.

    "Unless they're submarines, of course. But submarines are boats because they want to be boats. If they wanted to be ships, then they'd totally be ships."

    She glared at the interviewer. "And there's nothing wrong with wanting to be a boat, so don't you dare give them crap about it unless you're someone who's allowed to give them crap about it! If New Jersey wanted to be a boat, then she would be a damn boat!"

    Sotoyomo visibly reigned herself in, cleared her throat, and added, "Just so we're clear, that was a hypothetical example. New Jersey has never said that she wants to be a boat."

    "Crystal clear," the interviewer said with an amused smile. "So, to summarize, shipgirls can be boatgirls if they want to be."

    Sotoyomo nodded seriously. "Uh huh, and the difference is important. You can usually assume that surface girls are ships and underwater girls are boats, but if you're ever not sure, just ask her."

    "What is the difference?" The interviewer asked curiously.

    Sotoyomo beamed like she was a schoolteacher and the interviewer was a student who asked a really good question. "Ships are big and boats are little!"

    The interviewer paused, thought about it for a moment, and then asked "That's it?"

    "Of course not." Sotoyomo sagely said. "The rest is just really confusing!"

    The interviewer's amused smile expanded a little bit more. "How so?"

    "Because every other definition has so many exceptions you'd think they were spelling rules! Heck, it's not even just the other definitions. There's plenty of little ships and big boats. Ohio-class submarines have twice the displacement of the heavy cruisers from my time!

    "The whole ships versus boats thing is messy and has a lot of feelings and everyone's better off if you just accept that solid definitions don't exist and people are what they decide to be."

    Sotoyomo sagged into her cushions, looking like the outburst had finally exhausted her energy. The interviewer opened her mouth, probably to ask something that would get things back on track, only to be interrupted when the tugship sat straight upright and said, "Hey, want to see my medals?"

    She jumped out of her chair without waiting for an answer and dashed toward the camera so that it could get a closeup shot of her jacket.

    She pointed at one of her medals at random, moving her finger back and forth as she spoke about each one in turn. "This one's my World War One victory medal. I got it for surviving World War One. It's my favorite because it looks like a rainbow!

    "This one's my American Defense Service Medal, which I got for being on active duty before Pearl Harbor.

    "This is my Combat Action Ribbon," she said, pointing to the ribbon on the other side. "I got it at Pearl Harbor. Same thing for my Purple Heart. The star next to it is my Battle Star! I got it for fighting in the war.

    "This one is my American Campaign Medal," she said, moving back to the other side of her chest. "Which I got for being in America in World War Two. And I got the Asiatic-Pacific Campaign Medal for going west as we pushed for Japan.

    "And the last one is my World War Two Victory Medal. It looks like a rainbow with blood on it, which is a really great metaphor for the war!"

    There was a moment of stunned silence in the studio for a moment, and then Sotoyomo's smile faded away. She turned around and walked back to her chair, looking tired for a short moment as she sat down before she schooled her expression and looked back to the interviewer.

    "I have to tell you a little bit about how shipgirls work before I can answer the serious questions."

    The interviewer swallowed and nodded for her to continue.

    Sotoyomo looked up, picking and choosing her words carefully before she began to speak.

    "Every sailor who's not an overly-literal jackass will tell you that their ship has a soul and a personality, and that's literally true, confusing overly-literal jackasses everywhere. What we don't have, as steelhulls, are minds. We exist, and we have feelings and even intentions—especially sensitive people might be able to tell when we're sad or when we're happy and trying our best—but we're not awake so to speak, we're not quite people yet.

    She stared into the interviewer's eyes.

    "So no, you don't have to feel guilty for owning ships, or for scrapping or scuttling them when they've reached the end of their lives. The thing that matters, that sticks with us the most when we wake up, is if we were treated with respect.

    "It hurts to know that you broke down because the owner didn't care, and it feels good when you realize just how hard your engineers worked to keep you running even when they had next to nothing to work with.

    "We love our crew." Sotoyomo's lips turned up into something halfway between a smirk and a regretful smile. "Including the assholes, overly-literal jackasses, and even the evil bastards."

    The interviewer seemed to struggle with herself for a moment while Sotoyomo stared off into the distance. It wasn't long, as far as conversational pauses go, but it was just pronounced enough to notice on TV. Soon enough, she intruded on the private moment with a soft question.

    "What changed? How did the ship become a girl?"

    Sotoyomo smiled and shrugged. "Nobody knows. Shipgirls don't remember what happens between when the ship dies and the girl wakes up. The way our memory works makes it impossible."

    Sotoyomo reached into her jacket and pulled out a tiny, bobbleheaded version of herself in a sailor's uniform. The tiny person looked up at her, saluted, and said, "Hey! Hey!"

    "This is one of my fairies." She said with a smile. "Specifically, my engineer."

    Sotoyomo set the fairy down on the chair's armrest. "Our crews are our memories. We remember everything that every member of our crew experienced while they served on us and those memories manifest as fairies, who act as our new crew after we wake up."

    She poked the fairy on the cheek, who pushed her finger away with a grumpy, "Hey!"

    "Fairies aren't really people on their own, they're little, adorable, ambulatory bits of our minds and souls. The link between our old hull and crew and our new human bodies."

    She poked the fairy again, which promptly started beating on her finger with its tiny fists.

    "Add all of these little gals together, stick them in a body slash hull, and you get me! I am literally poking part of my brain in the face right now!"

    The fairy, fed up with the poking, shouted, "Hey!" and then ran up her sleeve, disappearing back into Sotoyomo's uniform.

    "Ships don't have crew after they've sunk, though, or when they're being scrapped, or for any number of other reasons, and we don't remember those times beyond vague impressions. Our existence makes it pretty clear that souls are real and that something happens after you die, but we don't have any more idea of what that is than you do."

    Sotoyomo beamed at the interviewer, her cheerful smile suddenly back in place. "So everybody can go back to arguing that their religion is the right one without having to worry about being proved wrong! Even atheists! Proof of souls isn't actually proof of gods after all!"

    The interviewer smiled wryly and a little nervously back at her. "That is simultaneously very relieving and extremely frustrating."

    "I know, right?" Sotoyomo waved her hands in the air. "Tons and tons of new questions, but zero answers!"

    The girl finally stopped talking for a fraction of a second, and the interviewer jumped on the chance to steer things back towards the pre-planned topics.

    "If your memory comes from your crew, how does that affect your opinions on social and political issues that only came to prominence later? I imagine that you have experienced quite a bit of culture shock."

    Sotoyomo nodded knowingly. "Mm, yeah, you mean the blacks and the homosexuals?"

    The interviewer choked at those words, but Sotoyomo continued on without pause. "Every shipgirl has her own thoughts of course, but you're probably going to have a hard time finding any who are opposed to giving them equal treatment. Real equal treatment, in society, not just in the law books."

    "Really?" The interviewer asked in surprise. "That's not what most people expected at all."

    Sotoyomo grinned. "Yup! You thought we were going to be all forties-like, right? But it makes sense if you think about it!

    "Our memories come from all of our crew members. A lot of us don't have much experience with being black, but we all know what it was like to hide being gay in the forties. We also know what it was like to fail to hide being gay in the forties!" She chirped.

    "You'd be surprised at how many people were cool with it! You'd also be surprised at what happened when somebody wasn't cool with it!

    Sotoyomo tilted her head quizzically. "What do you think hurts more, finding out that your best friend has a crush on you, or finding out that your best friend and crush doesn't feel the same way back, and that they also think you are an abomination in the face of God and deserve to burn in hell for all eternity?"

    The interviewer shifted uncomfortably. "I would say the second one," she said.

    "That's right!" The little shipgirl exclaimed, beaming at her. "And the fact that you know the answer says that you have a lot of empathy and are probably a good person!"

    "Next question! Which do you think hurts more, finding out that your best friend and crush thinks that you are an abomination in the face of God and deserve to burn in hell for all eternity, or," she raised her hands and made air quotes over her head. "'Accidentally' falling off the stern of a tugship going in reverse?"

    The interviewer froze.

    "Next next question! What do you think hurts more, finding out that your best friend and crush thinks you're so disgusting that he can murder you with a clear conscience, or drowning while also getting chopped into itty-bitty pieces at the same time?

    "Next next next question! What do you think hurts more, drowning while also getting chopped into itty-bitty pieces at the same time, or finding out that the murderer went on to live a full and happy life and died of old age while surrounded by his friends and family without ever answering for what he did?"

    Sotoyomo looked at the interviewer's rapidly paling face for a moment before she continued with a cheery smile. "Try not to think about it too much, you probably don't actually want to know the answer to some of those!

    "My point is, every shipgirl knows what it's like from both sides, and the experience is kind of lopsided. It's also pretty simple to realize that a lot of the blacks weren't having a good time back then either, and that we should probably ask our police to stop shooting them so much!

    "Most shipgirls are going to be in favor of treating other people like people, because all people are people and being treated like you're not people sucks."

    Sotoyomo waited while the interviewer visibly struggled to think of how to respond to all of that, before she perked up again and said, "While we're on the topic, I should also mention that Nazis are bad and I'm really disappointed to find out they live in America now!"

    "What…" The interviewer tried to clear her throat. "Yes, that would make sense, with the war. What about the German shipgirls? How do they feel about… what happened?"

    Sotoyomo shrugged. "I've never asked. It always seemed kinda rude to do while they're still figuring out what kind of humans they want to be, learning how the war turned out and what the world thinks of them, and trying to emotionally process hundreds of man-years of war memories bubbling up all at once. You can probably get a good idea if you think about how shipgirl memory works while watching Das Boot, though."

    The tuggirl clapped her hands, startling the interviewer out of her horrified trance. "Which brings us to the next question! Are shipgirls slaves? To which the answer is a solid 'Maybe!'"

    The interviewer stared back at her with the whites of her eyes showing perhaps a little bit more than normal.

    "On the one hand, none of us were ever asked if we wanted to serve, or signed any enlistment papers, or were told how long our tour of duty is, or were offered citizenship, and there's several politicians and admirals who keep going on and on about how much money America spent to make us!

    "On the other hand, every shipgirl who's come back so far did so expecting to serve, and nobody's going to bitch about the paperwork while shells are flying and civilians are dying!

    "In the end, it comes down to how the country decides to treat us going forward. Do we get to vote? Do we get citizenship? Do we get paid for our work? Do we get the choice to not enlist? Do we get the choice to not re-enlist? Do we get to have a modern education? Do we get to own property? Is there a career for us after the war ends, either military or civilian?

    "If the answer to any of those questions is no, then it says bad things. Same if everybody waits until after the war ends to try and answer them.

    "But right now? It's just too soon to say. Even if the people decide that the answers are all yes, it'll still take a long time to make it work, which is why you can't wait to start on it."

    Sotoyomo leaned forward with a conspiratorial smirk. "You wouldn't believe how many parts of the bureaucracy break when your age doesn't sync with your birthdate."

    "And what," the interviewer gulped. "What will you do if the answers are no?"

    Sotoyomo's smile melted away and she sighed heavily. "I think everybody's just keeping busy and trying not to think about it too much, because we don't actually want to know the answer to that question.

    "What are the choices? Accept it, fight our own people, or leave? They all violate something deep inside that's as big of a part of who we are as our ability to think. Having to make that choice for real would break any shipgirl in half."

    She slowly drew her legs up and hugged them to her chest as she continued, looking small and lost and more like a child than at any other point in the show.

    "I–we… We don't want to hurt people, or let people get hurt, or leave anyone behind. It's just…" Tears welled up in her eyes. "I can't do that! How could I when I know how bad it can really get?"

    She sniffed and wiped her nose. "E-even if I met him again, I don't think I could hurt him. Yell at him, yeah, but not hurt him. I can't think of anything that would make me feel okay about that."

    "And nobody else is going to be any different. I had an easy life compared to the warships, as happy and carefree as a ship can be while there's a war on. I got caught in the crossfire that time, but I was never responsible for keeping anyone else safe."

    Sotoyomo chuckled weakly, putting her legs back down as she seemed to recover some of her cheer.

    "Did you know that Wisconsin asked the submarines to do everything they could to scare her for a whole week? She refused to touch anyone until she proved that she could carry an egg without breaking it for at least that long because she's really scared of accidentally hurting someone. She didn't even put it down when she went to sleep.

    "She, uh, didn't quite know what to do with it when she was done. She'd developed an attachment but also knew that she couldn't keep it because it was almost certainly rotten. It just kind of… disappeared from her sock drawer one day, and nobody knows what happened to it."

    Sotoyomo smiled happily, recovering most of her previous cheeriness. "Now she has a kitten!

    "Anyway, she didn't actually need to prove that to anyone else, it was just for her own peace of mind. Our ship instincts usually keep us from accidentally hurting people or breaking things even though we're way stronger than normal humans."

    "Really?" the interviewer asked, visibly relieved to get back to a less emotional topic. "Not your human instincts?"

    "Yeah, humans don't have any experience dealing with that kind of strength, but ships do.

    "As long as a shipgirl is touching something, it doesn't really matter if it's a person, wall, desk, etcetera, she'll instinctively hold back. It's because anytime a ship actually comes into contact with something solid, she's either at or desperately trying to come to a full stop! Maybe inching forward or backward on minimum power in certain situations.

    "But you touch something? The first response is to cut all power and then figure out what it was! The worst that ever really happens is some extra damage to the furniture."

    The interviewer laughed. "That makes a lot more sense than it feels like it should."

    Sotoyomo giggled in return. "Yeah! That's kind of how shipgirls work, we make total sense if you think about it! Except for when we don't!"

    "How strong are shipgirls actually?" The interviewer asked. "There's a lot of theorizing about it, but no-one seems to have an answer.

    Sotoyomo nodded knowingly. "It's really easy to answer that question in a way that doesn't help at all! I have four hundred and fifty shaft horsepower, so I'm about as strong as a five liter Mustang GT.

    "The problem is, human bodies have muscles and joints, not shafts, so power translates in weird ways that we haven't figured out yet. I'm strong enough to do this though!"

    Sotoyomo pulled a two-foot bar of one-inch rebar out of a pocket that definitely couldn't hold something that size and held it horizontally in front of her with one hand on either end. The fingers of her tiny fists visibly sank into the steel as she wrapped them around the piece, and then, with a high-pitched growl, she grit her teeth and pulled her hands apart.

    The soft flesh of her child-like body instantly solidified into corded muscle with definition that was clearly visible even through the fabric of her uniform. The piece of steel slowly stretched like a piece of taffy under her efforts until it could no longer hold itself together and snapped in two with a ping.

    Breathing heavily, Sotoyomo raised the broken pieces of steel into the air with a triumphant smile. "Mustangs can't do that!"

    She used her sleeve to wipe some beads of sweat from her brow and then slumped back into the soft chair, taking a moment to catch her breath.

    "There's a lot of stuff we still don't know about how shipgirl biology works," she finally said to the interviewer, who was staring at her with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.

    The interviewer shut her mouth with an audible click, swallowed, and then opened it again to ask something, only to stop as Sotoyomo continued speaking.

    "Like, nobody even knows if we biologically age yet, or if the size of our human bodies are just permanently linked to the size of our hulls." She frowned. "I really hope we do. It'd be nice to be able to fall in love one day without having to wonder if I'm dating a pedophile."

    Suddenly, Sotoyomo bolted upright and froze with a stony expression.

    "Oh," she said thoughtfully. "I guess there is something that would make me okay with hurting someone." She clenched her fists around the fragments of rebar and the steel squeezed through her fingers like playdough. "Finding out that they used me as an excuse to prey on actual children."

    The interviewer gulped, then set her face and gently said, "Shipgirls and children were one of the hard topics you mentioned before. Can you tell us about that?"

    Sotoyomo jerked, seeming to come back to the present. She opened her fists and dropped the rebar onto the cushion on either side of her and smiled a soft smile. It looked different from the ones before, out of place on a kid's face.

    "Yeah," she said. "There's a lot of people who are wondering if the destroyers and submarines and other young-looking shipgirls are actual kids. After all, they look like kids, and they're usually acting like kids when you see them.

    "I think that's why so many people in the military and government insist on thinking of us as ships instead of people. It's a tragedy when a ship sinks in the line of duty, but ordering a child off to die in combat while you sit at the rear is a special kind of evil.

    "Nobody wants to be someone like that. If they ask that question for real and get an answer they don't like, then they have to make an impossible choice.

    "We will lose the war if we pull most of the destroyers, submarines, and even some cruisers and capital ships out of service. It's not a matter of making it harder to win or turning the odds a million to one against us. We cannot win without them. Period."

    Sotoyomo smiled grimly and pierced the interviewer with her gaze. "Which hurts more, killing a few children, or doing nothing and letting the whole world die?"

    The interviewer swallowed and remained silent, looking like she was about to cry.

    Sotoyomo's smile softened into something much more gentle. "It's okay, though. Nobody has to make that choice. It's the truth, not a pretty little lie to help you feel better, when I say that we are not children."

    The interviewer's expression didn't change, but she visibly gathered up her courage before pushing out her next words. "It isn't enough to just say that. You need to explain it."

    Sotoyomo smiled proudly at her. "You really are a good person, aren't you? And a good journalist. There aren't a lot of people with enough courage to keep digging when given an out like that.

    "I've got a question for you then. Why is it wrong to send children off to war? You can't say that it's wrong because it's just inherently bad, either. Why is it wrong?"

    "I— It's," The interviewer stammered. "You're supposed to protect kids. They're innocent, and wouldn't understand the ramifications of what they're being told to do."

    Sotoyomo kept silent, holding the interviewer's gaze until she continued.

    "They wouldn't— couldn't understand until it's too late to say no. They trust you when you say something is the right thing to do even if it's obviously not because they haven't had enough time to grow up and learn that yet."

    Finally, the young-looking shipgirl nodded, seemingly satisfied with her answer. "Children are innocent, they don't understand what they're being asked to do, they don't know how to recognize someone they shouldn't trust, they don't know what's right and what's wrong, and they haven't had enough time."

    "Yes," the interviewer replied, more confident in her answer than she had been a moment ago.

    Sotoyomo grinned suddenly. "My first memories come from horny young sailors and old salt-dogs. You have no idea how much swearing and dirty jokes I've been holding back. Innocence was never a part of my life."

    Her expression turned serious again. "As for not understanding the ramifications, I served through two of the deadliest conflicts in human history. I've watched my friends leave and never come back. I've seen comrades die in both accidents and battle, and I've experienced it from a perspective that normal humans only get once. I've watched ships sink with living men still inside of them. I've watched as their friends tried in vain to rescue them. I've seen the horror on their faces when they found out that those friends lived on for days after they gave it up as impossible.

    "I've known my own horror as I imagined what those ships experienced while their crews lingered on, and I watched as those ships were later refloated and sailors cleaned out the sludge that used to be people with pumps and hoses."

    Sotoyomo clenched her fists as she stared down into her lap. "I know what it means to go to war, and I also know that I'm going to do everything I can to make sure you never have to, no matter how small my everything is."

    Sotoyomo looked back up and leaned in to pin the other woman down with a steel gaze. "I am old, older than you are in every way but one. I may still be learning what kind of human I am, but I decided what kind of soul I would be long before you or your parents were born.

    "After all of that, is it really so wrong to want a taste of childhood?"

    The interviewer shook her head, unable to say anything while the girl stared her down.

    Sotoyomo bared her teeth in an expression that almost looked like a smile. "And do I really seem like someone who trusts without a thought?"

    The interviewer shook her head again.

    Sotoyomo sat back up in her chair, apparently satisfied. Then she scooted forward and slid off the front, stretched one of her arms across her chest, repeated the motion with the other, and rolled her head around in a circle a couple times. After she was done limbering up, she beamed and dashed over to hug the interviewer.

    "You are a kind and brave person, and very smart!"

    Before the woman could react, Sotoyomo zoomed away, calling out, "I hope you get to keep your job!" and left her alone on an empty stage.

    ***​

    Standing behind the woman was an enlarged photo of a woman named Enterprise. It was a famous one that showed her sailing out from under the Golden Gate Bridge, long blonde hair flowing in the wind as she faced down bracketing battleship fire with calm determination.

    After a long moment, the interviewer looked down and stared at the sheet she had been holding throughout the program. On its face was an equally famous photo of Enterprise sailing back into San Francisco Bay, standing tall and proud while blood, oil, and flames poured out of the gaping hole where her left shoulder and breast had been before the battle.

    The expression on her face showed a small, relieved smile, and none of the pain she must have felt.
     
  • Sidestory
    • CDRW said:
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    You know after this you need to show the reactions to this from varying perspectives right. Like from veterans, politicians, psychologists, parents, teachers and anyone else under the sun. After all while interviews are interesting, it's always the reactions to the interviews that becomes the most entertaining.
     
    Zealous Specter said:
    You know after this you need to show the reactions to this from varying perspectives right. Like from veterans, politicians, psychologists, parents, teachers and anyone else under the sun. After all while interviews are interesting, it's always the reactions to the interviews that becomes the most entertaining.
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    PHO interlude! Unfortunately, I don't really have any plans for a reaction chapter or availabe characters that I could use for one. You will be seeing the ultimate effects of it next chapter as Constitution introduces a new shipgirl to her place in the modern world, though.
     
    CDRW said:
    PHO interlude! Unfortunately, I don't really have any plans for a reaction chapter or availabe characters that I could use for one. You will be seeing the ultimate effects of it next chapter as Constitution introduces a new shipgirl to her place in the modern world, though.
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    Is it USS Allen, cause I'd like to keep reading about her efforts tbh.
     
    Zealous Specter said:
    Is it USS Allen, cause I'd like to keep reading about her efforts tbh.
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    No, its USS Dolphin, the training submarine that Allen usually got paired with in Hawaii. Next chapter is the last Nagato interlude, and it'll be the one where they learn about Allen. It'll also reveal what's up with that message from Harder. After that, we stick with Allen until the end of the next arc.
     
    I recently found out that this story was on this website and not just the dumpster fire that is SB, so I just reread the whole story plus reading the 60 Minutes chapter for the first time!

    Chapter 6 of this story is one of the very rare pieces of media that has successfully made me cry in the daylight while I'm not sleep deprived. Considering you've written another of those stories, this isn't particularly surprising.

    Also, can someone who's seen Das Boots give me the context for that line?
     
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