Imagine, waking up in your own life. Accept, it's not. Instead, you've de-aged and swapped genders. Meaning you have to rebuild your life from scratch. And now there are murderous monsters prowling the seas, intent on exterminating humanity from the Earth. At least I have to perk of being completely landlocked. Wait? I'm a shipgirl? Well, there goes that idea.
That Time I Reincarnated as a Shipgirl
- Thread starter Drakefire
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Chapter 1
She let out a sigh, finally sitting down on the solid bench. Maybe coming out here was a bad idea. Sure, she got to see her sister again, and her daughter always enjoyed playing with her cousins, but she wasn't ready for so much walking. Not with another one on the way.
"Tired?" her sister sat down next to her, watching over the chaos that would surely unfold in the dinosaur-themed gift shop. All she did was give a wordless nod, keeping eye on her child.
While the two young boys had already run off, playing with any toy they could get their hands on, and their younger sister played around with the first stuffed animal that got her attention, her daughter eyed the selves. Unlike most small children that would be running around at breakneck speeds, she was slow, deliberate.
She'd seen her daughter act like that before. Normally, she was a bit quiet, but still an energetic toddler. It was like she was searching for something. She was never sure what her daughter was trying to find. It was usually random. Sometimes it was a misplaced toy, which had long thought to be lost. Others, it was just a babble, something shiny and interesting.
Maybe she'd just saw a stuffed animal she really liked and was just going to retrieve it?
"We do need to hang out more often," her younger sister drew her attention.
"We do. But I don't think we'll be able to do much until after this one is born," she ran her hand across her stomach, over the sizable bump.
"Got any names yet?"
"We're thinking Joseph, for a boy, Laura, for a girl," she would have said more if it wasn't for her daughter making a loud squeak of joy. Both she and her sister's heads turned quickly, watching the small child grab something off a shelf. It took a moment for her daughter to free the prize, but once she did, she began to toddle over, running as fast as her little legs could carry her, toothy grin on her face.
"His name is Fuzzy, Mommy," she grinned, looking upwards at her as if her daughter was speaking some self-evident truth.
"Of course she is Kathrine," she ruffled her daughter's hair, and Kathrine beamed even more.
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"Kathrine, stop this!" Jacob got another splash of water to his face for his protest. Bathtime was never an easy time. For most families, it was getting their kid into the bathtub. Kathrine?
Kathrine took to water far better than any kid her age should. No, getting her into the bath was never the problem. It was getting her hair washed. For all Kathrine's love of water, she wouldn't submerge herself. Getting it above her head? She would resist. A lot.
Another shout of defiance went out from the tub, as her husband rubbed the water off his glasses.
"I swear, the time she's old enough to bath herself cannot come fast enough," he scowled, shaking his hair. She just shook her head, chuckling all the while.
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She watched her Grandaughters legs swing back and forth. Her arms were locked around two stuffed animals. One a plush triceratops, the other a rainbow covered elephant.
"Nervous?" She asked her, looking down at the three-year-old. "You're mother's going to be just fine." Her legs didn't stop, and she muttered something into her stuffed animals, nearly clutching them against her face.
"I'm not going to get a sister."
The older of the two frowned. That was uncharacteristic. She'd been ecstatic for months about having a younger sister. Why was she suddenly acting like she wasn't?
"I thought you always wanted a sister?" she ruffled her granddaughter's hair, combing her fingers through the curly blonde mess.
"I want a sister. I know I'm going to get a brother," Kathrine proceeded to shove her face into her stuffed animals again, falling back into silence.
In the end, Caroline thought nothing of it, even as Joseph was born into the world.
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Ow, ow, ow! My head! How was it possible for it to hurt this much!
Had I been drinking? Was this a hangover? I swore to never touch alcohol, so I doubted it, but I was at a complete lack of other explanations. My arms pushed my body upward, only to be wracked by another lance of pain streaking through my skull.
"Sweety, are you okay?" I must have let out a yelp of pain or something, as my mom's voice echoed down the hall. A few moments later, the door to my room creaked open, flooding my space with light. My eyes squeezed shut, in some vain attempt to block out the light.
A few moments later, I felt a hand press against my forehead. Something didn't feel right. It was too big, much too big, to be my mother's hand.
"You don't seem to have a fever. Can you tell me what's wrong?" she was acting like I was a kid or something!
"Head, hurts," I ground out. It hurt to talk, hurt to think. Like there was a jackhammer crashing against my skull.
I cracked my eyes open, squinting through the light. I could make out the faint outline of my mother, a shadowy block surrounded by rays of pain. Red hair swirled behind her, looking longer, without some of the gray that had begun to weave its way in.
"I see. I'll call the school, and tell them you aren't going in today," she made her way towards the door, flipping off the light switch as she went. "You just get some rest, okay?"
School? What was she talking about? It was the middle of summer, and even if I wasn't, I was in college!
Another lance of agony ripped it's way through my skull, extinguishing that line of thought.
Sleep sounded good.
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I was unsure how much time I spent resting. Everything felt like a semi-lucid blur. By the time I returned to my senses, my headache had retreated somewhat. It still throbbed with pain, but I was at least able to take stock of my situation.
I gazed around the room. Despite that dark purple lined the walls, with brightly colored flowers painted on it, I still recognized it. The doors to both the closet and the rest of the house were in the same location, as were the windows.
It didn't matter if the room was the most stereotypical girl's room ever, I still recognized it for what it was.
This was my room.
I winced as another lance of pain shot through my brain. A voice at the back of my mind shouted that it wasn't my room. That it was her room. Katherine's room.
Wait, no! I wasn't Katherine! Ow! Fuck! Brain! Stop!
Just because I looked like a child, doesn't mean I was one!
I felt a coppery taste on my tongue as I bit down to keep myself from screaming in pain. Screw you! This was my house! This was my room! This is my body! I wasn't a small child! And my name wasn't Kathrine!
This time, I screamed in pain, leg's curling up against my chest. My hands clutched my forehead, fingers grabbing at hair that was longer than it was ever was.
No, this wasn't my body. I was a man in my twenties, not a preteen girl! This couldn't be my body!
The pain relented, the hammering of the nail through my brain subsiding. I cranked my eyes back open, whipping away the trickle of blood that ran down my lips. Gingerly, I placed my feet on the floor, feeling the carpet curl its way around my toes. A few steps took me to the window, grasping the curtains, before pulling them aside.
I hissed in pain, the sun burning at my eyes for a brief moment. As they finally adjusted to the rays, I gazed ahead.
It was the same. My neighborhood, the place where I grew up. It was the exact damn same! I threw the curtain back over the window in an attempt to block out the cursed image.
What the hell! What the actual fuck is going on! My mom was younger. I was younger, and I was a girl! I began to pace, stepping back and forth across the carpet in a room that was and wasn't mine.
Okay, think. What was the last thing I remembered? Before I woke up?
I fell to a knee, a burning shot of pain burrowing its way through my skull. I couldn't. I was at home, avoiding the plague, but that was all I could recall.
Another shudder of pain ran its way through my body. I couldn't remember. But Kathrine? The girl that had taken my place? She could.
Fire screamed in my skull.
I wasn't sure if I passed out in my bed, or I just collapsed on the floor.
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"Sweety, are you alright?" a voice broke through my dreamless sleep, finally causing me to stir. My hand reached for my head, prepared for another agonizing headache.
Rather than the lance of pain, I felt nothing. No, not nothing. I couldn't quite explain it. Acceptance, maybe?
"I'm fine mom," I tried to keep my voice as tired and exhausted as possible. It wasn't hard. Even if I spent the entire day passed out, I was probably about to fall over. I was just drained, sapped of any strength. "Just tired still."
A frown grew on my mother's face. "If you're sure, sweety. Do you think you'll be able to join us for dinner?"
At the mention of food, my stomach let out a rumble of protest. Mom chuckled, giggling at my now embarrassed face.
"Dinner will be in thirty minutes. Please don't try to sleep until bedtime," I nodded at my mother's words as she left my room, not trusting myself to give the game up. As the door closed, I slumped against the pillow, closing my eyes and rubbing my head.
This situation sucked. I'm not sure how I ended up like this, what could easily be more than a decade in the past and the wrong gender to boot. But even if I did, I wouldn't be able to solve it. Which meant I was stuck here. As Kathrine.
A what, six, seven-year-old? No, six. Wait, how did I? Oh. She'd, I'd had our birthday just last week. I let myself rollover, nearly bumping my head against a plush animal. I gently grabbed at the dark mass, pulling it closer to my face.
Fuzzy?
She, I, still got Fuzzy? I squeezed the stuffed triceratops as close to my chest as possible. She still convinced mom to buy her this? Why? Her interests had to be different than mine. Why would she seek out a stuffed animal I had owned?
It would only work if she had my memories. Maybe just vague recollections. I don't know.
But, even if I didn't know-how, I knew what it meant. We were the same.
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No. Please, stop! Leave us alone!
We were still useful! We could still fight! We can still serve!
Despite the screams of pain from my sisters and me, the men around us paid no heed to our protests.
Blowtorches peeled back skin, bones were torn out, stomach drained of food.
Screams and protests rang out around, in a vain attempt to hold back fate.
Eventually, my voice fell silent. There was nothing we could say that would change their mind. Our time had ended. For the last time, my eyes closed.
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A strangled scream died in my throat, body covered in sweat. Blankets flew off my body as I bolded upright, breathing harsh and ragged. What time was it?
Actually, no, I didn't want to know. This was probably some forsaken hour. I slumped down, falling back into my pillows warm embrace. After a few minutes, my breathing began to steady, as did my pounding heart.
Okay, what the hell was up with this dream? I wasn't a stranger to abnormal or otherwise weird nightmares. Hell, I had quite vivid memories of being chased around the neighborhood being chased by a tornado. A human tornado.
But this? Not only did this feel real, but it was also a dream I've had at least three separate times. Repeat dreams were rare for me, and what few times I'd gotten them, it was usually a two-time event.
So what the hell was going on with this?
I let out a stretch and a yawn. This wasn't the time for this. I had school tomorrow, after all.
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Her feet shifted. This was their first parent-teacher conference. Their first one since the change. Normally, their daughter was energetic, an absolute handful. They had trouble getting her to read books, and do not interrupt conversations.
Now? Her personality was near 180. Kathrine was extremely quiet, spending most of her time with her face shoved in some book, oftentimes well above what she should have been able to reasonably read. She'd seen her daughter reading Harry Potter. Sure, it was a book series still awaiting completion, but she was in the first grade.
School was also a topic that had changed. Normally, when asked about how school went, Kathrine would babble on for hours at a time. Then she just started referring to 'the usual', 'fine', and other one-word answers.
It had filled her with concern. Was her daughter being bullied?
"I have to admit, I'm a bit surprised. I can see why Kathrine is such a good student," the young lady smiled, laying out a folder full of drawings, quizzes, and other numerous classwork papers. "Not only does your daughter have some of the best grades in the entire class, but she also tends to cause the least amount of trouble."
Loren let out a breath she wasn't even aware she was holding.
"My only possible complaint is that she doesn't interact with her classmates much," the teacher said, as Loren sharply took in-breath again. "She isn't being bullied or anything, to my knowledge. Kathrine said she just finds her peers annoying, and immature."
Loren blinked. Immature? They were six to seven years old!
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My head was underwater. Submerged. My limbs flailed about, finally grabbing hold of the offending arm.
"Stop dunking me, you jerk! I shouted as I burst to the surface, kicking away the asshole. He laughed, as my eyes narrowed. Oh, it was so hard to bite back the curses I'd drop on him. I hate you. I hate you beyond words can describe you piece of shit. I don't care if it was an actual lifetime ago, you made my elementary school life a living hell.
I didn't understand why when our respective mothers wanted to hang out, they dragged us along with them. Maybe it was because we were the same age?
"You should have seen the look on your face," he howled cackling like the hyena he was.
"You should see the look on your face when I'm done punching it," I ground out, fingers clenching into a fist. No. I'm not dealing with two lifetimes of your shit.
"My nose has been replaced by a titanium plate. You'd just hurt yourself," he said, lying through his teeth, as easily as he breathed. Yeah, you tried that shit the last time too.
"So I've been told," my eyes narrowed. He blinked as if taken by surprise for a moment.
"I never told you that before," his face grew confused, an expression I will always treasure. I took that moment to punch him in the face.
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I had an hour's worth of time-out when I got home, forced to face the corner.
Still worth it.
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I kept my eyes on the TV as I made my way up the stairs. My parents always watched nine O'clock news. I frowned, watching the initial bid of international news. Another missing ship? That's what? The sixth this week? I scowled, digging back into my memory as far as it went. This didn't seem right.
If I had paid attention in the past, I would know it wasn't right. It wasn't right at all. None of the vessels should have gone missing.
But I hadn't. Ultimately, I was forced to shrug off the unfortunate events and unfortunate circumstances.
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The ground shook. Bombs exploded with tremendous force, turning buildings into rubble. Underground, in a basement turned bomb-shelter, my family waited out the bombardment. Each shake, there was a jump of fear. And with it, any chance of this being me being transferred to some wacky gender-bent version of my previous life.
Mom's arms were wrapped around me so tight they hurt, a near-death squeeze around my stomach. I couldn't blame her. I was horrified. This wasn't supposed to be happening. These things, that crawled out of the ocean, and began slaughtering people across the world shouldn't exist.
The US military had scrambled against the new threat. Airforce, Navy, and Army. All of it marshaled against an enemy, unlike anything we'd ever seen before. It wasn't much better. The navy lost dozens of vessels trying to defend the coastlines. Fighters were lost by the hundreds. Ground troops? What do you think a tank is going to do against a ship?
It wasn't to say we didn't have victories. The Mississippi River, for example, had been fortified, after an attack force tried to use it as a means to attack America's interior. But what victories we had were bloody.
But there were rumblings of something new entering the fray. Human ships. The first allegedly appeared off the coast of Japan. Another appeared just off the west coast.
I would normally be suspicious of such rumors. But if Abyssal's were real? Why wouldn't shipgirls?
Another blast quaked the earth. A bomb had fallen closer to our house this time.
And in my heart, I felt the flicker of fire.
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"Kathrine! Keep up the pace!" I rolled my eyes but increased my pace, all the same, my feet slapping against the track. Running was a hobby I'd picked up before, I, well, this all happened. I'd done my best to apply the lessons I'd learned in my previous life here. Exercise and eat healthy, and keep good study habits. Not to mention all the social lessons I learned and reinforced.
Sure, my friend circle was fairly similar. I was still a nerd at heart after all. But I was far better than I was, less prone to react to every single small thing. The advantages of having twenty-something odd years of social experience.
But on to that running thing. I decided to do something new. I'd pretty much spent my life doing the same things. Well, mostly. I was trying out for track and field. Ever since the Abyssal attack, I'd retaken up running with my mother. Both as a means of keeping in shape, but also getting stronger.
I planned on joining the Navy.
Normally, I wouldn't consider the military a carrier path I'd take. It just wasn't for me. Plus, my glasses, which yes, I still had, turning into a girl had done nothing to fix my eyesight. And there was, well, not to beat around the bush, a few other issues.
However, I now felt compelled. America, no, all of humanity was facing an extinction-level event. Abbsyals wanted us dead. All of us. If that wasn't something worth fighting against, then I had no idea what was.
But that required me to get into better shape. Maybe even joining the cross country team when I got into high school.
"Good job! You managed to beat your previous time!" Our coach shouted at me as sweat poured down my face like rain. And people wondered why I brought such a huge bottle of water. "Think you're good for another lap?"
I took another swig of water from my half-gallon jug, before placing it on the ground.
"Yes ma'am," I wasn't lying. Sure, I was producing enough sweat to drown a person, and my lungs felt like they were on fire, but at the end of the day?
I couldn't have felt more alive.
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"I'm telling you, if there are any two shipgirls in a relationship, it's Hood and Bismarck," I picked out the noise from the other side of the lunchroom. Even in this life, Jacob was very much the same energetic and loud person he'd always been.
"Sup, nerds," I teased on the approach, sitting down at my typical spot at the table.
"Speak for yourself, you're one of us. Just because you're on the cross country team, doesn't make you less of a dork," Jacqueline nodded her head, taking another bite out of her meal.
"Or any less of a shipgirl nerd," Jacob fired back as I rolled my eyes.
"Yes, keeping a pulse on important information related to my career path makes me a nerd," I snarked back at him as he let out a hardy laugh, overwhelming the chatter surrounding us. "After all, I'm not the one who's shipping living beings with those who murdered them in a previous life."
"She's got a point with that one," Keith pointed out from behind his laptop, before returning to plucking away at the keys. I wondered what he was working on, but knowing him, it was related to the next round of D&D torture the party would likely reverse onto him.
"Hey, it's not my fault I'm speaking the truth here! It's like shipgirl flirting or something, right?" there was a brief pause in the air before it was filled with the sound of multiple palms smacking foreheads, as Jacob looked around at us, confused.
"If that were the case, Enterprise would be inundated, stuck at the bottom of a giant pile, rather than dating Yamato," Nathen elbowed Jacob, rolling his eyes.
"Wait, I heard rumors that Yamato was dating a librarian," Jacqueline's head cocked to the side, puzzled.
"It would be impossible to keep anything of that caliber straight in the first place," I let out a snort at Keith's unknowing joke. He shot me a glare of annoyance. "Not what I meant and you know it, Kathrine."
"Discerning fiction from reality when it comes to shipgirls can be quite difficult. Submarines enjoy being underwater, however, most shipgirls will avoid such exposure. If forced underwater, panic attacks tend to ensure," Keith continued.
"That sounds like a certain someone I'm familiar with," Jacob cut in, with my eyes narrowing to slits.
"I don't like having my head underwater, okay," I crossed my arms away, trying my best to hide the flush of embarrassment that grew it's way across my face, doing my best to annoy the chuckles of laughter.
Gym class sucked!
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"We really should go back to Disney World," I almost did a double-take to check if I had the right house. Ever since the Abyssal's first appeared, Disney World, my family's traditional vacation spot was off the table. There, my brother had gotten sick of the place, but here? It's more than five years since we last went.
"Joseph, it's simply too dangerous. I'd love to take you and your sister back before she graduates, but until the Abyssal's are gone, it's simply not happening," mom chided my younger sibling. Who was again, taller than I was. He sprouted up like a bean stock, while I was even shorter. 5'5 was not intimidating, even with my muscle.
"Come' on, sis, back me up here," my brother whined, actually whined, about getting to go to Disney World. I chuckled at the reversal of our traditional rolls, a private joke, rubbing the sweat off my face with the towel around my neck.
"Leave me out of this," I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, downing it in a few gulps.
"You keep an eye on the reports. When was the last time the Abyssal's have struck Florida?" my bother asked, crossing his arms. Even though he was taller than I was, I wasn't phased by his looming. What I was annoyed by was the fact he stole my height, my birthright as oldest!
"I know what you're trying to do," my eyes narrowed. "Anything I say at this point is just taunting Murphy."
"You and you're Murphy's law nonsense. Just tell me," I rolled my eyes. I did want to go to Disney too. Two lifetimes hadn't been quite enough.
"Two years. Four and a half, if you consider that those were long-range Atlantic based strike groups. There has no major attack on Florida since the Abyssal fleet was driven out the Gulf of Mexico," I rattled off, taking another sip of water.
"See! Even the shipgirl nut thinks it's safe!" water exited my mouth like a geyser, coughing loudly.
"Firstly, just because I keep a pulse on what shipgirl's are doing, doesn't make me a nut," I sputtered defensively, "Secondly, that's not what I said at all." I was going to have to clean off the table, wasn't I?
"Sounds like it to me," I shot him a glare.
"I said it was statistically unlikely. I never said it was safe," I ground out, annoyed. Just because I was shorter than you didn't mean I couldn't knock you on your ass.
"Tomato, tamato," he waved his hand dismissively. I growled. This. This is why we didn't get along.
"Kathrine. Shower. Now." mom ordered before the two of us could start shouting at each other. "We'll discuss this more at dinner."
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And that's how my family and I ended up on our first return trip to Florida.
We weren't landing in Orlando, either. Orlando, like most of Florida, had been hit hard, and much of the state was focused on rebuilding. Airports, while a necessity for the military, were no expectation. Given how much harder international traffic was, as going over any large body of water was effectively suicide, rebuilding the airport in Orlando was put on the backburner.
It was simply too large and expensive to repair, and what had been was more frequently used to transport goods or troops. A location not too far from the frontline, without being directly near the water's edge. Instead, we were landing at a smaller airport further north, and would simply rent a vehicle and make the rest of our journey that way.
Not to say I didn't protest the decision, but my brother and father somehow convinced mom to go along with the insanity.
I shook my head, shoving my face back into the game I was playing. Honestly, I couldn't wait to stretch and move around, at least for a bit. The hour car ride was going to be fun, let me tell you.
Suddenly, the plane lurched in the air, sending me bouncing out of my seat, my device nearly flying from my grasp. I heard a few squeaks and grumbles from the other passengers, as I began to fasten the seatbelt.
It was fine. Just some turbulence is all. My eyes shifted to the window, spotting what looked like a small black cloud pass by. Looking further down, across the ground and out to sea, I saw a flash. Seconds later the plane rocked again.
Not turbulence. Not turbulence at all.
"Uh," I was about to grab my dad's attention, pointing to him that we were presently being shot at, in some desperate attempt to calm my panicking nerves.
"This is the captain speaking," the intercom burst to life as my foot began to vibrate. "As a result of complications, we will be making an emergency landing. We are sorry for the inconvenience this may cause, but it is for the safety of our passengers. Thank you for your time."
"I wonder that was about," I sent my father a look as the plane shook even more violently.
"It might have something to do with that," I couldn't stop my voice from breaking, the vibrating of my foot picking up speed as I tried to burn off the growing sense of dread.
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"Please, exit the plane in a calm and orderly fashion," the loudspeaker continued to blare throughout the plane. I doubted anyone was listening. My family sure wasn't. But we were caught in the rush of people, which had slowed to a crawl. By this point, I was practically bouncing in place. It helped the panic from setting in. It helped me stop thinking. It helped me ignore the pain.
My chest hurt. My heartfelt like it was both on the verge of freezing up in fear and igniting into a raging inferno. Artillery thundered, and the first time in years, I could hear the sound of dropping bombs, their screams through the air followed by a quaking blast.
A loud crack echoed through the air, loud and close, drowning out the sound around us. For a moment, it hung in the air, before the airplane broke in half. I scream as the back half the plane skidded across the runway, struggling to keep my balance as my arms wrapped around a nearby chair. My brother and those around me had the same idea, as we finally skidded to a stop. Even then, I kept my death grip on the seat, afraid to let go as my knuckles turned white.
I looked behind me as others struggled to get to their feet. Further in the back, I could see my parents slowly standing back up. They weren't hurt, thank goodness.
But, what caused that? Planes just don't break apart like that.
"Sis, whatever you do, don't move," I heard my brother speak, his voice barely a faint whisper.
I couldn't stop myself, I turned towards the opening, only to freeze up completely. It looked like a deformed dog. Stubby legs that shouldn't allow it to fit on land. A head several times too large, with jaws to match.
My heart froze completely, caught halfway through a beat. Its eyes were on me, staring, unblinking, unfeeling. People were screaming behind me, panicking, rushing for any emergency exit they could find. I was numb to it all, gaze fixed ahead at the monster that would certainly be the death of me.
I was going to die here. On this airplane. And everyone else was going to follow. My brother. My mother. My father. Everyone on this plane was dead. We couldn't outrun it, we couldn't fight it. It's maw widened, revealing the gun hidden inside to the entire world. It would kill all of us.
Something began to burn. I could feel heat roar. Had someone set a fire? No, that wasn't right. I couldn't smell smoke, couldn't hear the crackle of flames. It was, inside of me?
It was. I could feel it. I didn't know what it meant. Maybe I was going crazy, madness induced by my coming final moments. Perhaps.
Or maybe, just maybe, nobody was dying today.
The destroyer fired, screams drowned out by the powerful discharge as the shot rocketed towards my frame. At that moment, my heart ceased its beat.
And fire took its place. Boilers rumbled to life, shaking off decades of cobwebs to ignite once more. Systems, ancient and neglected, came online for the first time in ages. Within my hull crew stirred, called back to uphold their oath and duty once more. Armor formed on my skin, steel to turn aside enemy shells. Firing crews shouted their affirmation as decades-old weapons came back as green.
Metal screamed in protest, quickly giving way to my new bulk sending my crashing into the tarmac below. Rigging fell into place as I turned, bringing as much of my armament to bear.
"All guns. Open fire!"
"Tired?" her sister sat down next to her, watching over the chaos that would surely unfold in the dinosaur-themed gift shop. All she did was give a wordless nod, keeping eye on her child.
While the two young boys had already run off, playing with any toy they could get their hands on, and their younger sister played around with the first stuffed animal that got her attention, her daughter eyed the selves. Unlike most small children that would be running around at breakneck speeds, she was slow, deliberate.
She'd seen her daughter act like that before. Normally, she was a bit quiet, but still an energetic toddler. It was like she was searching for something. She was never sure what her daughter was trying to find. It was usually random. Sometimes it was a misplaced toy, which had long thought to be lost. Others, it was just a babble, something shiny and interesting.
Maybe she'd just saw a stuffed animal she really liked and was just going to retrieve it?
"We do need to hang out more often," her younger sister drew her attention.
"We do. But I don't think we'll be able to do much until after this one is born," she ran her hand across her stomach, over the sizable bump.
"Got any names yet?"
"We're thinking Joseph, for a boy, Laura, for a girl," she would have said more if it wasn't for her daughter making a loud squeak of joy. Both she and her sister's heads turned quickly, watching the small child grab something off a shelf. It took a moment for her daughter to free the prize, but once she did, she began to toddle over, running as fast as her little legs could carry her, toothy grin on her face.
"His name is Fuzzy, Mommy," she grinned, looking upwards at her as if her daughter was speaking some self-evident truth.
"Of course she is Kathrine," she ruffled her daughter's hair, and Kathrine beamed even more.
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"Kathrine, stop this!" Jacob got another splash of water to his face for his protest. Bathtime was never an easy time. For most families, it was getting their kid into the bathtub. Kathrine?
Kathrine took to water far better than any kid her age should. No, getting her into the bath was never the problem. It was getting her hair washed. For all Kathrine's love of water, she wouldn't submerge herself. Getting it above her head? She would resist. A lot.
Another shout of defiance went out from the tub, as her husband rubbed the water off his glasses.
"I swear, the time she's old enough to bath herself cannot come fast enough," he scowled, shaking his hair. She just shook her head, chuckling all the while.
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She watched her Grandaughters legs swing back and forth. Her arms were locked around two stuffed animals. One a plush triceratops, the other a rainbow covered elephant.
"Nervous?" She asked her, looking down at the three-year-old. "You're mother's going to be just fine." Her legs didn't stop, and she muttered something into her stuffed animals, nearly clutching them against her face.
"I'm not going to get a sister."
The older of the two frowned. That was uncharacteristic. She'd been ecstatic for months about having a younger sister. Why was she suddenly acting like she wasn't?
"I thought you always wanted a sister?" she ruffled her granddaughter's hair, combing her fingers through the curly blonde mess.
"I want a sister. I know I'm going to get a brother," Kathrine proceeded to shove her face into her stuffed animals again, falling back into silence.
In the end, Caroline thought nothing of it, even as Joseph was born into the world.
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Ow, ow, ow! My head! How was it possible for it to hurt this much!
Had I been drinking? Was this a hangover? I swore to never touch alcohol, so I doubted it, but I was at a complete lack of other explanations. My arms pushed my body upward, only to be wracked by another lance of pain streaking through my skull.
"Sweety, are you okay?" I must have let out a yelp of pain or something, as my mom's voice echoed down the hall. A few moments later, the door to my room creaked open, flooding my space with light. My eyes squeezed shut, in some vain attempt to block out the light.
A few moments later, I felt a hand press against my forehead. Something didn't feel right. It was too big, much too big, to be my mother's hand.
"You don't seem to have a fever. Can you tell me what's wrong?" she was acting like I was a kid or something!
"Head, hurts," I ground out. It hurt to talk, hurt to think. Like there was a jackhammer crashing against my skull.
I cracked my eyes open, squinting through the light. I could make out the faint outline of my mother, a shadowy block surrounded by rays of pain. Red hair swirled behind her, looking longer, without some of the gray that had begun to weave its way in.
"I see. I'll call the school, and tell them you aren't going in today," she made her way towards the door, flipping off the light switch as she went. "You just get some rest, okay?"
School? What was she talking about? It was the middle of summer, and even if I wasn't, I was in college!
Another lance of agony ripped it's way through my skull, extinguishing that line of thought.
Sleep sounded good.
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I was unsure how much time I spent resting. Everything felt like a semi-lucid blur. By the time I returned to my senses, my headache had retreated somewhat. It still throbbed with pain, but I was at least able to take stock of my situation.
I gazed around the room. Despite that dark purple lined the walls, with brightly colored flowers painted on it, I still recognized it. The doors to both the closet and the rest of the house were in the same location, as were the windows.
It didn't matter if the room was the most stereotypical girl's room ever, I still recognized it for what it was.
This was my room.
I winced as another lance of pain shot through my brain. A voice at the back of my mind shouted that it wasn't my room. That it was her room. Katherine's room.
Wait, no! I wasn't Katherine! Ow! Fuck! Brain! Stop!
Just because I looked like a child, doesn't mean I was one!
I felt a coppery taste on my tongue as I bit down to keep myself from screaming in pain. Screw you! This was my house! This was my room! This is my body! I wasn't a small child! And my name wasn't Kathrine!
This time, I screamed in pain, leg's curling up against my chest. My hands clutched my forehead, fingers grabbing at hair that was longer than it was ever was.
No, this wasn't my body. I was a man in my twenties, not a preteen girl! This couldn't be my body!
The pain relented, the hammering of the nail through my brain subsiding. I cranked my eyes back open, whipping away the trickle of blood that ran down my lips. Gingerly, I placed my feet on the floor, feeling the carpet curl its way around my toes. A few steps took me to the window, grasping the curtains, before pulling them aside.
I hissed in pain, the sun burning at my eyes for a brief moment. As they finally adjusted to the rays, I gazed ahead.
It was the same. My neighborhood, the place where I grew up. It was the exact damn same! I threw the curtain back over the window in an attempt to block out the cursed image.
What the hell! What the actual fuck is going on! My mom was younger. I was younger, and I was a girl! I began to pace, stepping back and forth across the carpet in a room that was and wasn't mine.
Okay, think. What was the last thing I remembered? Before I woke up?
I fell to a knee, a burning shot of pain burrowing its way through my skull. I couldn't. I was at home, avoiding the plague, but that was all I could recall.
Another shudder of pain ran its way through my body. I couldn't remember. But Kathrine? The girl that had taken my place? She could.
Fire screamed in my skull.
I wasn't sure if I passed out in my bed, or I just collapsed on the floor.
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"Sweety, are you alright?" a voice broke through my dreamless sleep, finally causing me to stir. My hand reached for my head, prepared for another agonizing headache.
Rather than the lance of pain, I felt nothing. No, not nothing. I couldn't quite explain it. Acceptance, maybe?
"I'm fine mom," I tried to keep my voice as tired and exhausted as possible. It wasn't hard. Even if I spent the entire day passed out, I was probably about to fall over. I was just drained, sapped of any strength. "Just tired still."
A frown grew on my mother's face. "If you're sure, sweety. Do you think you'll be able to join us for dinner?"
At the mention of food, my stomach let out a rumble of protest. Mom chuckled, giggling at my now embarrassed face.
"Dinner will be in thirty minutes. Please don't try to sleep until bedtime," I nodded at my mother's words as she left my room, not trusting myself to give the game up. As the door closed, I slumped against the pillow, closing my eyes and rubbing my head.
This situation sucked. I'm not sure how I ended up like this, what could easily be more than a decade in the past and the wrong gender to boot. But even if I did, I wouldn't be able to solve it. Which meant I was stuck here. As Kathrine.
A what, six, seven-year-old? No, six. Wait, how did I? Oh. She'd, I'd had our birthday just last week. I let myself rollover, nearly bumping my head against a plush animal. I gently grabbed at the dark mass, pulling it closer to my face.
Fuzzy?
She, I, still got Fuzzy? I squeezed the stuffed triceratops as close to my chest as possible. She still convinced mom to buy her this? Why? Her interests had to be different than mine. Why would she seek out a stuffed animal I had owned?
It would only work if she had my memories. Maybe just vague recollections. I don't know.
But, even if I didn't know-how, I knew what it meant. We were the same.
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No. Please, stop! Leave us alone!
We were still useful! We could still fight! We can still serve!
Despite the screams of pain from my sisters and me, the men around us paid no heed to our protests.
Blowtorches peeled back skin, bones were torn out, stomach drained of food.
Screams and protests rang out around, in a vain attempt to hold back fate.
Eventually, my voice fell silent. There was nothing we could say that would change their mind. Our time had ended. For the last time, my eyes closed.
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A strangled scream died in my throat, body covered in sweat. Blankets flew off my body as I bolded upright, breathing harsh and ragged. What time was it?
Actually, no, I didn't want to know. This was probably some forsaken hour. I slumped down, falling back into my pillows warm embrace. After a few minutes, my breathing began to steady, as did my pounding heart.
Okay, what the hell was up with this dream? I wasn't a stranger to abnormal or otherwise weird nightmares. Hell, I had quite vivid memories of being chased around the neighborhood being chased by a tornado. A human tornado.
But this? Not only did this feel real, but it was also a dream I've had at least three separate times. Repeat dreams were rare for me, and what few times I'd gotten them, it was usually a two-time event.
So what the hell was going on with this?
I let out a stretch and a yawn. This wasn't the time for this. I had school tomorrow, after all.
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Her feet shifted. This was their first parent-teacher conference. Their first one since the change. Normally, their daughter was energetic, an absolute handful. They had trouble getting her to read books, and do not interrupt conversations.
Now? Her personality was near 180. Kathrine was extremely quiet, spending most of her time with her face shoved in some book, oftentimes well above what she should have been able to reasonably read. She'd seen her daughter reading Harry Potter. Sure, it was a book series still awaiting completion, but she was in the first grade.
School was also a topic that had changed. Normally, when asked about how school went, Kathrine would babble on for hours at a time. Then she just started referring to 'the usual', 'fine', and other one-word answers.
It had filled her with concern. Was her daughter being bullied?
"I have to admit, I'm a bit surprised. I can see why Kathrine is such a good student," the young lady smiled, laying out a folder full of drawings, quizzes, and other numerous classwork papers. "Not only does your daughter have some of the best grades in the entire class, but she also tends to cause the least amount of trouble."
Loren let out a breath she wasn't even aware she was holding.
"My only possible complaint is that she doesn't interact with her classmates much," the teacher said, as Loren sharply took in-breath again. "She isn't being bullied or anything, to my knowledge. Kathrine said she just finds her peers annoying, and immature."
Loren blinked. Immature? They were six to seven years old!
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My head was underwater. Submerged. My limbs flailed about, finally grabbing hold of the offending arm.
"Stop dunking me, you jerk! I shouted as I burst to the surface, kicking away the asshole. He laughed, as my eyes narrowed. Oh, it was so hard to bite back the curses I'd drop on him. I hate you. I hate you beyond words can describe you piece of shit. I don't care if it was an actual lifetime ago, you made my elementary school life a living hell.
I didn't understand why when our respective mothers wanted to hang out, they dragged us along with them. Maybe it was because we were the same age?
"You should have seen the look on your face," he howled cackling like the hyena he was.
"You should see the look on your face when I'm done punching it," I ground out, fingers clenching into a fist. No. I'm not dealing with two lifetimes of your shit.
"My nose has been replaced by a titanium plate. You'd just hurt yourself," he said, lying through his teeth, as easily as he breathed. Yeah, you tried that shit the last time too.
"So I've been told," my eyes narrowed. He blinked as if taken by surprise for a moment.
"I never told you that before," his face grew confused, an expression I will always treasure. I took that moment to punch him in the face.
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I had an hour's worth of time-out when I got home, forced to face the corner.
Still worth it.
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I kept my eyes on the TV as I made my way up the stairs. My parents always watched nine O'clock news. I frowned, watching the initial bid of international news. Another missing ship? That's what? The sixth this week? I scowled, digging back into my memory as far as it went. This didn't seem right.
If I had paid attention in the past, I would know it wasn't right. It wasn't right at all. None of the vessels should have gone missing.
But I hadn't. Ultimately, I was forced to shrug off the unfortunate events and unfortunate circumstances.
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The ground shook. Bombs exploded with tremendous force, turning buildings into rubble. Underground, in a basement turned bomb-shelter, my family waited out the bombardment. Each shake, there was a jump of fear. And with it, any chance of this being me being transferred to some wacky gender-bent version of my previous life.
Mom's arms were wrapped around me so tight they hurt, a near-death squeeze around my stomach. I couldn't blame her. I was horrified. This wasn't supposed to be happening. These things, that crawled out of the ocean, and began slaughtering people across the world shouldn't exist.
The US military had scrambled against the new threat. Airforce, Navy, and Army. All of it marshaled against an enemy, unlike anything we'd ever seen before. It wasn't much better. The navy lost dozens of vessels trying to defend the coastlines. Fighters were lost by the hundreds. Ground troops? What do you think a tank is going to do against a ship?
It wasn't to say we didn't have victories. The Mississippi River, for example, had been fortified, after an attack force tried to use it as a means to attack America's interior. But what victories we had were bloody.
But there were rumblings of something new entering the fray. Human ships. The first allegedly appeared off the coast of Japan. Another appeared just off the west coast.
I would normally be suspicious of such rumors. But if Abyssal's were real? Why wouldn't shipgirls?
Another blast quaked the earth. A bomb had fallen closer to our house this time.
And in my heart, I felt the flicker of fire.
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"Kathrine! Keep up the pace!" I rolled my eyes but increased my pace, all the same, my feet slapping against the track. Running was a hobby I'd picked up before, I, well, this all happened. I'd done my best to apply the lessons I'd learned in my previous life here. Exercise and eat healthy, and keep good study habits. Not to mention all the social lessons I learned and reinforced.
Sure, my friend circle was fairly similar. I was still a nerd at heart after all. But I was far better than I was, less prone to react to every single small thing. The advantages of having twenty-something odd years of social experience.
But on to that running thing. I decided to do something new. I'd pretty much spent my life doing the same things. Well, mostly. I was trying out for track and field. Ever since the Abyssal attack, I'd retaken up running with my mother. Both as a means of keeping in shape, but also getting stronger.
I planned on joining the Navy.
Normally, I wouldn't consider the military a carrier path I'd take. It just wasn't for me. Plus, my glasses, which yes, I still had, turning into a girl had done nothing to fix my eyesight. And there was, well, not to beat around the bush, a few other issues.
However, I now felt compelled. America, no, all of humanity was facing an extinction-level event. Abbsyals wanted us dead. All of us. If that wasn't something worth fighting against, then I had no idea what was.
But that required me to get into better shape. Maybe even joining the cross country team when I got into high school.
"Good job! You managed to beat your previous time!" Our coach shouted at me as sweat poured down my face like rain. And people wondered why I brought such a huge bottle of water. "Think you're good for another lap?"
I took another swig of water from my half-gallon jug, before placing it on the ground.
"Yes ma'am," I wasn't lying. Sure, I was producing enough sweat to drown a person, and my lungs felt like they were on fire, but at the end of the day?
I couldn't have felt more alive.
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"I'm telling you, if there are any two shipgirls in a relationship, it's Hood and Bismarck," I picked out the noise from the other side of the lunchroom. Even in this life, Jacob was very much the same energetic and loud person he'd always been.
"Sup, nerds," I teased on the approach, sitting down at my typical spot at the table.
"Speak for yourself, you're one of us. Just because you're on the cross country team, doesn't make you less of a dork," Jacqueline nodded her head, taking another bite out of her meal.
"Or any less of a shipgirl nerd," Jacob fired back as I rolled my eyes.
"Yes, keeping a pulse on important information related to my career path makes me a nerd," I snarked back at him as he let out a hardy laugh, overwhelming the chatter surrounding us. "After all, I'm not the one who's shipping living beings with those who murdered them in a previous life."
"She's got a point with that one," Keith pointed out from behind his laptop, before returning to plucking away at the keys. I wondered what he was working on, but knowing him, it was related to the next round of D&D torture the party would likely reverse onto him.
"Hey, it's not my fault I'm speaking the truth here! It's like shipgirl flirting or something, right?" there was a brief pause in the air before it was filled with the sound of multiple palms smacking foreheads, as Jacob looked around at us, confused.
"If that were the case, Enterprise would be inundated, stuck at the bottom of a giant pile, rather than dating Yamato," Nathen elbowed Jacob, rolling his eyes.
"Wait, I heard rumors that Yamato was dating a librarian," Jacqueline's head cocked to the side, puzzled.
"It would be impossible to keep anything of that caliber straight in the first place," I let out a snort at Keith's unknowing joke. He shot me a glare of annoyance. "Not what I meant and you know it, Kathrine."
"Discerning fiction from reality when it comes to shipgirls can be quite difficult. Submarines enjoy being underwater, however, most shipgirls will avoid such exposure. If forced underwater, panic attacks tend to ensure," Keith continued.
"That sounds like a certain someone I'm familiar with," Jacob cut in, with my eyes narrowing to slits.
"I don't like having my head underwater, okay," I crossed my arms away, trying my best to hide the flush of embarrassment that grew it's way across my face, doing my best to annoy the chuckles of laughter.
Gym class sucked!
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"We really should go back to Disney World," I almost did a double-take to check if I had the right house. Ever since the Abyssal's first appeared, Disney World, my family's traditional vacation spot was off the table. There, my brother had gotten sick of the place, but here? It's more than five years since we last went.
"Joseph, it's simply too dangerous. I'd love to take you and your sister back before she graduates, but until the Abyssal's are gone, it's simply not happening," mom chided my younger sibling. Who was again, taller than I was. He sprouted up like a bean stock, while I was even shorter. 5'5 was not intimidating, even with my muscle.
"Come' on, sis, back me up here," my brother whined, actually whined, about getting to go to Disney World. I chuckled at the reversal of our traditional rolls, a private joke, rubbing the sweat off my face with the towel around my neck.
"Leave me out of this," I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, downing it in a few gulps.
"You keep an eye on the reports. When was the last time the Abyssal's have struck Florida?" my bother asked, crossing his arms. Even though he was taller than I was, I wasn't phased by his looming. What I was annoyed by was the fact he stole my height, my birthright as oldest!
"I know what you're trying to do," my eyes narrowed. "Anything I say at this point is just taunting Murphy."
"You and you're Murphy's law nonsense. Just tell me," I rolled my eyes. I did want to go to Disney too. Two lifetimes hadn't been quite enough.
"Two years. Four and a half, if you consider that those were long-range Atlantic based strike groups. There has no major attack on Florida since the Abyssal fleet was driven out the Gulf of Mexico," I rattled off, taking another sip of water.
"See! Even the shipgirl nut thinks it's safe!" water exited my mouth like a geyser, coughing loudly.
"Firstly, just because I keep a pulse on what shipgirl's are doing, doesn't make me a nut," I sputtered defensively, "Secondly, that's not what I said at all." I was going to have to clean off the table, wasn't I?
"Sounds like it to me," I shot him a glare.
"I said it was statistically unlikely. I never said it was safe," I ground out, annoyed. Just because I was shorter than you didn't mean I couldn't knock you on your ass.
"Tomato, tamato," he waved his hand dismissively. I growled. This. This is why we didn't get along.
"Kathrine. Shower. Now." mom ordered before the two of us could start shouting at each other. "We'll discuss this more at dinner."
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And that's how my family and I ended up on our first return trip to Florida.
We weren't landing in Orlando, either. Orlando, like most of Florida, had been hit hard, and much of the state was focused on rebuilding. Airports, while a necessity for the military, were no expectation. Given how much harder international traffic was, as going over any large body of water was effectively suicide, rebuilding the airport in Orlando was put on the backburner.
It was simply too large and expensive to repair, and what had been was more frequently used to transport goods or troops. A location not too far from the frontline, without being directly near the water's edge. Instead, we were landing at a smaller airport further north, and would simply rent a vehicle and make the rest of our journey that way.
Not to say I didn't protest the decision, but my brother and father somehow convinced mom to go along with the insanity.
I shook my head, shoving my face back into the game I was playing. Honestly, I couldn't wait to stretch and move around, at least for a bit. The hour car ride was going to be fun, let me tell you.
Suddenly, the plane lurched in the air, sending me bouncing out of my seat, my device nearly flying from my grasp. I heard a few squeaks and grumbles from the other passengers, as I began to fasten the seatbelt.
It was fine. Just some turbulence is all. My eyes shifted to the window, spotting what looked like a small black cloud pass by. Looking further down, across the ground and out to sea, I saw a flash. Seconds later the plane rocked again.
Not turbulence. Not turbulence at all.
"Uh," I was about to grab my dad's attention, pointing to him that we were presently being shot at, in some desperate attempt to calm my panicking nerves.
"This is the captain speaking," the intercom burst to life as my foot began to vibrate. "As a result of complications, we will be making an emergency landing. We are sorry for the inconvenience this may cause, but it is for the safety of our passengers. Thank you for your time."
"I wonder that was about," I sent my father a look as the plane shook even more violently.
"It might have something to do with that," I couldn't stop my voice from breaking, the vibrating of my foot picking up speed as I tried to burn off the growing sense of dread.
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"Please, exit the plane in a calm and orderly fashion," the loudspeaker continued to blare throughout the plane. I doubted anyone was listening. My family sure wasn't. But we were caught in the rush of people, which had slowed to a crawl. By this point, I was practically bouncing in place. It helped the panic from setting in. It helped me stop thinking. It helped me ignore the pain.
My chest hurt. My heartfelt like it was both on the verge of freezing up in fear and igniting into a raging inferno. Artillery thundered, and the first time in years, I could hear the sound of dropping bombs, their screams through the air followed by a quaking blast.
A loud crack echoed through the air, loud and close, drowning out the sound around us. For a moment, it hung in the air, before the airplane broke in half. I scream as the back half the plane skidded across the runway, struggling to keep my balance as my arms wrapped around a nearby chair. My brother and those around me had the same idea, as we finally skidded to a stop. Even then, I kept my death grip on the seat, afraid to let go as my knuckles turned white.
I looked behind me as others struggled to get to their feet. Further in the back, I could see my parents slowly standing back up. They weren't hurt, thank goodness.
But, what caused that? Planes just don't break apart like that.
"Sis, whatever you do, don't move," I heard my brother speak, his voice barely a faint whisper.
I couldn't stop myself, I turned towards the opening, only to freeze up completely. It looked like a deformed dog. Stubby legs that shouldn't allow it to fit on land. A head several times too large, with jaws to match.
My heart froze completely, caught halfway through a beat. Its eyes were on me, staring, unblinking, unfeeling. People were screaming behind me, panicking, rushing for any emergency exit they could find. I was numb to it all, gaze fixed ahead at the monster that would certainly be the death of me.
I was going to die here. On this airplane. And everyone else was going to follow. My brother. My mother. My father. Everyone on this plane was dead. We couldn't outrun it, we couldn't fight it. It's maw widened, revealing the gun hidden inside to the entire world. It would kill all of us.
Something began to burn. I could feel heat roar. Had someone set a fire? No, that wasn't right. I couldn't smell smoke, couldn't hear the crackle of flames. It was, inside of me?
It was. I could feel it. I didn't know what it meant. Maybe I was going crazy, madness induced by my coming final moments. Perhaps.
Or maybe, just maybe, nobody was dying today.
The destroyer fired, screams drowned out by the powerful discharge as the shot rocketed towards my frame. At that moment, my heart ceased its beat.
And fire took its place. Boilers rumbled to life, shaking off decades of cobwebs to ignite once more. Systems, ancient and neglected, came online for the first time in ages. Within my hull crew stirred, called back to uphold their oath and duty once more. Armor formed on my skin, steel to turn aside enemy shells. Firing crews shouted their affirmation as decades-old weapons came back as green.
Metal screamed in protest, quickly giving way to my new bulk sending my crashing into the tarmac below. Rigging fell into place as I turned, bringing as much of my armament to bear.
"All guns. Open fire!"
Chapter 2
My guns fired, an erupted of gunpowder and steel. My three, seven, eight, and even twelve-inch guns unleashed their payload, a literal wall of explosive shells. As the smoke began to clear, there was nothing left of the destroyer, the tarmac pocket marked with craters.
I held air push from my lungs, taking in a gulp of fresh air. Had I been holding my breath? Was I holding it this whole time?
I took a tentative step forward, putting another hole in the tarmac, foot causing it to crack, even if I stepped down as gentle as I could. Steel groaned beneath my skin as my muscles coiled.
My clothes had been replaced, shirt and shorts instead now a near knee-length dress, one ripped straight out of the '20s. There was a tightness around my neck, a white handkerchief that brought out the blue of my new sleeveless dress nicely.
Then there was my rigging. The first part that stuck where the gloves on my hands, on which sat two large batteries, my twin emplacements for my four twelve-inch guns. Meanwhile, the rest of my armament hung off my sides. A variable cavalcade of my remaining arsenal of eight-inch, seven-inch, three-inch, and my smaller one and three-pounder guns.
I was the USS-Kansas. BB-21. The fourth ship of the Connecticut line. Among the last of the US's pre-dreadnought era vessels. A ship that had been scraped for parts, made obsolete in only a handful of years after her construction.
But obsolete didn't mean useless. Sure, I was old, outdated by the end of the first World War, and hopelessly outclassed by the battleships that sailed in the second.
But I was still a battleship. A shipgirl.
And from the sound of it, I was the only one here. I couldn't be for sure, my radio was far too primitive to pick up or receive messages of note.
I looked up at the broken half the plane behind me. My brother stared back at me, with a look of shock written all over his face. I could pick up the voices of my parents, slowly shoving their way through the throngs of people.
They were completely defenseless. The Abyssal's would kill them in a heartbeat, for fun, taking some type of sick twisted pleasure out of it. My fists clenched with the force to grind steel into dust. Like hell they would. I wasn't going to let them. I wouldn't let the Abyssal's hurt my family. Not now, not ever.
"Keep an eye on them, alright! I'll be back soon!" I shouted up at my brother as he shook his head in a daze.
I'm pretty sure he shouted back at me as I thundered across the tarmac, heading towards the sound of battle.
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I had no idea what proper military protocol was. Was there even protocol for a human becoming a shipgirl? Being a shipgirl?
Even my footfalls were drowned out by the thunder of artillery, numerous pieces firing rounds at the Abyssal attackers. It wasn't doing much, and several were already reduced to wrecks of steel from counterfire.
"Sir?" I approached the individual that appeared to be in charge. I didn't have much to go off. He was busy shouting into a radio, barking out orders. If he was in charge of the defense, then he should be the person I report too, right? I didn't think this one through. My feet shifted, grinding into the tarmac.
"And Richardson, I told you to get the civilians into the bunker!" he shouted, starting to turn his head around. "We still have one right." His pause would have been humorous if we were outside of our present situation.
"I see," there was a frown on his face as he stared at me. "Normally, I would ask you if you were a fresh awakening, but that seems rather obvious."
I nodded my head, doing my best to keep my bristling turrets pointed away from anyone.
"Then I am going to ask for your name, age, ship designation, and, identification number if you remember it."
"My human name is Kathrine, and I'm seventeen sir. My crew tells me I'm the USS Kansas, BB-21."
His face went from a frown to one made of pale stone in a second. He looked back from the radio to me, as if to confirm I was seventeen. Yes, I know I'm short! Doesn't make me young!
"Fourth in the Connecticut line, correct?" I nodded again, as the man let out a string of curses, before turning around to face me.
"Before you offer what I know you're about to, no," his finger pointed towards me. "Not only are you underage, but you also have no training for this type of situation. Reinforcements are ten minutes out."
My jaw tightened for a moment. I wanted to fight, yes. But he wasn't wrong. Sure, I killed a destroyer, but that was mostly luck. It was on dry land, standing still, a target too close to miss. Plus, there was one simple fact.
I scowled at the planes that filled the air. There was no way my four one pounders could handle this. Maybe was getting ahead of myself. But still.
I didn't want to be helpless. I didn't want to leave it entirely to everyone else.
"Sir, you must be joking," I paused, looking back towards the radio. "Sir, she just awakened. Isn't even of age. She's seventeen, sir. You can only enlist with parental consent at that age. Sir, if they're anywhere, they'd be in the shelter by now."
"She's BB-21. Yes, that Kansas. Sir, she's a natural-born more than twenty years out of date and untrained to boot," I watched as the man's knuckles turned white. "I understand sir." Ultimately, the man's shoulders slumped in defeat.
"I don't agree with this, I doubt a lot of others will too," he sighed, shaking his head. "However, my orders stand." I could have sworn he wanted to say something following that but held his tongue.
"All I'm ordering you to do is stay close to shore. Do not chase, do not pursue. If you take critical damage, or just can't balance right now, just use your guns from here. Am I understood?"
"Yes sir!" my salute was likely terrible if the look he gave me was anything to go by.
"If you can, try to keep radio contact as well," he ordered, before turning his head.
"My crew has been sending out signals since I awoke, sir. They should be in morse, sir," My words left a pause in the air.
"Damnit! I told you that's where the morse code was coming from Jones!"
An explosion drew my eye, as another wave of bombers passed overhead. They were targeting the base! I scowled, faulting over the small barricade and into the surf. Screw them! I'll take them all on!
I zeroed in on the closest vessel I could spot, another small destroyer, screening for a larger Abyssal. A light, no, that was a heavy cruiser of some sort. This I could handle. If I could draw away the destroyer, all the better.
"Fire!" explosions bloomed out of my rigging, shells rocketing forth as my body lurched to the side, nearly losing my already tedious footing. A few seconds later, water erupted around the Abyssal like fountains. Yes! Another direct hit! So far, two for two! I got this in the bag!
As the water settled, I realized something.
I had miscalculated. Big time.
I hadn't sunk the destroyer. I'd hit it, the creature now had a fire on its snout, one that I was certain wasn't present before. But it was very much unsunk. And very much angry.
Good news, it wasn't acting as a screen nor was it shooting at the soldiers.
Bad news, I was the new target. And I wasted all my shots.
Reload. Reload, and fire at will. Any time would be nice!
It's gun cracked its retort, it's single five-inch gun racking me with fire. Sure, each shell couldn't get through my armor, but each shot felt like a bee sting. Three shots slammed into my arm as I covered my face, one leaving a burning sensation. My smaller guns returned fire, the thud of my three-inch and three-pounders firing music to my ears.
But the damn thing just kept coming! Sure, the smaller three-pounders wouldn't do much, but my three-inch batteries should be doing something! What were the Abyssal's feeding these demented things! It's like a torpedo!
Wait! That's it! Prep port side torpedo tube for launch and
I screamed in pain, something much larger than the destroyer's shots puncturing into my shoulder. Ow! Fucker! Oh, just you wait, little miss heavy cruiser. Once I'm done with your dog, you're next!
Launch it! Launch it now!
Instead of being shot visibly over the side, as most destroyers did, I had my torpedo tubes underwater. Stationary, yes, making them nearly impossible to aim. But it wasn't as easily telegraphed, and for a destroyer trying to rush me, that made all the difference. If it focused on me and didn't notice.
Retorts continued to issue from my guns, trying to keep it focusing on me. Still, it rushed through the water, barreling towards me. Its body began to turn, shifting through the waves.
Where was that torpedo! Had it hit maxim range or something? Go dead in the water? I knew what it was aiming to do. Destroyer? This close to battleship? I knew that it was going to launching torpedoes!
I began to pull myself into a turn, attempting to throw off its aim.
Then the water erupted, a massive geyser shot forth by an explosion, nearly drowning out the destroyers screams of pain. Okay, please let that be enough to kill the little bastard.
By the time the water settled, my wish had come true, with the darkened mass of steel slipping beneath the waves. Good, now I just need to deal with the heavy cruiser, and that was right over.
I wince as the heavy cruiser lands another salvo, two shells slamming into my left leg and another right underneath my ribs. Damnit, I lost track of it while dealing with the destroyer!
My twelve-inch guns groaned as I rotated, correcting for their new target, supported by my eight-inch guns. Each of the smaller guns might as well be useless, but I brought my three inches to bare as well.
Another bloom of gunfire crashed into me, leaving more cuts and impacts along my body. Yeah, yeah, you little shit, flaunt your faster reload. I have something you don't. Large guns.
Once in position, I returned fire, smaller shells bouncing off its armor, but my larger guns were much more effective. My eight-inch shells match it's own, and combined with my main batteries, this was a war of attrition. One I could win.
Then the bombs started dropping. One splashed into the water harmlessly. The second didn't.
I screamed. Pain flared across my shoulder on impact, shrapnel flying in all directions. Fragments cut into my face, leaving gashes the bleed freely down my cheek. What weapons I had free turned towards the sky, letting loose a barrage of bullets.
Move! MOVE! I began to correct my course, swerving around in a mad panic. More shells splashed down around me, thrown off by my erratic movement, delightfully reminding me once again to the cruiser's existence. It had strayed closer, with my main guns prepped and ready. A terrible mistake.
It bellowed as my shells tore into its armor, with its crashing into mine. One more salvo should be enough, but by that point, I'd at least take another volley. Then there was the matter of those freaking bombers! There were just so many of.
I raised my hand just in the nick of time, intercepting a bomb that would have connected with my head dead-on.
I don't even know if I screamed. One second, my hand was there. The next, the bomb punched through the top of one of my main guns and into the ammo belt.
Then I couldn't feel my hand anymore. Not even pain. Just nothing. Something warm splattered across my face, splashing into my eyes.
I tried rubbing the amalgamation of blood and oil from my sockets attempting to clear my vision. Another salvo of shots were fired, but I couldn't tell from where. An explosion rang off from my right, as the Abyssal cruiser let out a deathly scream.
Wait? Could it be? Reinforcements?
Had it been ten minutes, truly? I needed to find them! Sweet, sweet air cover!
Another bomb. I'd been fumbling around blind, I couldn't have seen it. This one slammed into my ankle, at just the right angle.
I couldn't keep my balance, my foot now just a bloody stump of a limb. With time, I did scream, my propeller giving out, as pain lanced through my body. My momentum carried me forward, tumbling into the water's surface. I threw my arms outward, trying to catch myself, only to crash into the water face first.
Agony arced it's way through my hand as salt splashed into the wound. Everything ached, everything hurt. But I couldn't stay still. I was enough of a sitting duck as is. My right arm strained, pushing up the weight of my frame with ease. But I still couldn't move, water failing to provide any purchase. I couldn't even crawl.
How pitiful was that? I couldn't even manage to drag myself away from a fight. I was so dead. An immobile battleship, surrounded by enemy planes without support? I was going the die out here. There was an all too familiar scream in the air, the sound of a plane pulling into a dive.
Mom. Dad. Joseph. I'm sorry.
There was a click, the detachment of a bomb. I closed my eyes, waiting for the pain to come. There was an explosion.
The pain didn't come.
Wiping enough blood from my face to regain at least some vision, I looked up at my savior. She was tall, so much taller than I was. Her rigging bloomed with armaments far larger than my own, but that wasn't the surprise. Strapped in her hands were two massive shields, one being used to cover us both from incoming fire. Her other hand reached down as if to offer me a hand up.
"You are the Kansas, I presume," her voice was sweet, sounding like an older sister. I accepted it, being torn onto my feet by the larger and younger ship.
"Denver, Phoenix, I have her. We need to withdraw back to base immediately. She's hurt. Badly," her voice turned stern, ordering both smaller vessels. I think they were cruisers? Cruisers were named after cities, right?
I might be feeling a bit loopy. No, I was a bit loopy. Pain? Blood loss? Who could tell? I sure couldn't.
A few more booms sounded off in the distance.
"Ma'am, shouldn't we support Washington and her group?" the redhead shouted, seeming ready to turn towards the fighting.
"Negative. The carrier is too close to escape at this point. Kansas on the other hand needs to get to the repair baths."
Good. That sounded nice. I was just going to take a nap.
I held air push from my lungs, taking in a gulp of fresh air. Had I been holding my breath? Was I holding it this whole time?
I took a tentative step forward, putting another hole in the tarmac, foot causing it to crack, even if I stepped down as gentle as I could. Steel groaned beneath my skin as my muscles coiled.
My clothes had been replaced, shirt and shorts instead now a near knee-length dress, one ripped straight out of the '20s. There was a tightness around my neck, a white handkerchief that brought out the blue of my new sleeveless dress nicely.
Then there was my rigging. The first part that stuck where the gloves on my hands, on which sat two large batteries, my twin emplacements for my four twelve-inch guns. Meanwhile, the rest of my armament hung off my sides. A variable cavalcade of my remaining arsenal of eight-inch, seven-inch, three-inch, and my smaller one and three-pounder guns.
I was the USS-Kansas. BB-21. The fourth ship of the Connecticut line. Among the last of the US's pre-dreadnought era vessels. A ship that had been scraped for parts, made obsolete in only a handful of years after her construction.
But obsolete didn't mean useless. Sure, I was old, outdated by the end of the first World War, and hopelessly outclassed by the battleships that sailed in the second.
But I was still a battleship. A shipgirl.
And from the sound of it, I was the only one here. I couldn't be for sure, my radio was far too primitive to pick up or receive messages of note.
I looked up at the broken half the plane behind me. My brother stared back at me, with a look of shock written all over his face. I could pick up the voices of my parents, slowly shoving their way through the throngs of people.
They were completely defenseless. The Abyssal's would kill them in a heartbeat, for fun, taking some type of sick twisted pleasure out of it. My fists clenched with the force to grind steel into dust. Like hell they would. I wasn't going to let them. I wouldn't let the Abyssal's hurt my family. Not now, not ever.
"Keep an eye on them, alright! I'll be back soon!" I shouted up at my brother as he shook his head in a daze.
I'm pretty sure he shouted back at me as I thundered across the tarmac, heading towards the sound of battle.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
I had no idea what proper military protocol was. Was there even protocol for a human becoming a shipgirl? Being a shipgirl?
Even my footfalls were drowned out by the thunder of artillery, numerous pieces firing rounds at the Abyssal attackers. It wasn't doing much, and several were already reduced to wrecks of steel from counterfire.
"Sir?" I approached the individual that appeared to be in charge. I didn't have much to go off. He was busy shouting into a radio, barking out orders. If he was in charge of the defense, then he should be the person I report too, right? I didn't think this one through. My feet shifted, grinding into the tarmac.
"And Richardson, I told you to get the civilians into the bunker!" he shouted, starting to turn his head around. "We still have one right." His pause would have been humorous if we were outside of our present situation.
"I see," there was a frown on his face as he stared at me. "Normally, I would ask you if you were a fresh awakening, but that seems rather obvious."
I nodded my head, doing my best to keep my bristling turrets pointed away from anyone.
"Then I am going to ask for your name, age, ship designation, and, identification number if you remember it."
"My human name is Kathrine, and I'm seventeen sir. My crew tells me I'm the USS Kansas, BB-21."
His face went from a frown to one made of pale stone in a second. He looked back from the radio to me, as if to confirm I was seventeen. Yes, I know I'm short! Doesn't make me young!
"Fourth in the Connecticut line, correct?" I nodded again, as the man let out a string of curses, before turning around to face me.
"Before you offer what I know you're about to, no," his finger pointed towards me. "Not only are you underage, but you also have no training for this type of situation. Reinforcements are ten minutes out."
My jaw tightened for a moment. I wanted to fight, yes. But he wasn't wrong. Sure, I killed a destroyer, but that was mostly luck. It was on dry land, standing still, a target too close to miss. Plus, there was one simple fact.
I scowled at the planes that filled the air. There was no way my four one pounders could handle this. Maybe was getting ahead of myself. But still.
I didn't want to be helpless. I didn't want to leave it entirely to everyone else.
"Sir, you must be joking," I paused, looking back towards the radio. "Sir, she just awakened. Isn't even of age. She's seventeen, sir. You can only enlist with parental consent at that age. Sir, if they're anywhere, they'd be in the shelter by now."
"She's BB-21. Yes, that Kansas. Sir, she's a natural-born more than twenty years out of date and untrained to boot," I watched as the man's knuckles turned white. "I understand sir." Ultimately, the man's shoulders slumped in defeat.
"I don't agree with this, I doubt a lot of others will too," he sighed, shaking his head. "However, my orders stand." I could have sworn he wanted to say something following that but held his tongue.
"All I'm ordering you to do is stay close to shore. Do not chase, do not pursue. If you take critical damage, or just can't balance right now, just use your guns from here. Am I understood?"
"Yes sir!" my salute was likely terrible if the look he gave me was anything to go by.
"If you can, try to keep radio contact as well," he ordered, before turning his head.
"My crew has been sending out signals since I awoke, sir. They should be in morse, sir," My words left a pause in the air.
"Damnit! I told you that's where the morse code was coming from Jones!"
An explosion drew my eye, as another wave of bombers passed overhead. They were targeting the base! I scowled, faulting over the small barricade and into the surf. Screw them! I'll take them all on!
I zeroed in on the closest vessel I could spot, another small destroyer, screening for a larger Abyssal. A light, no, that was a heavy cruiser of some sort. This I could handle. If I could draw away the destroyer, all the better.
"Fire!" explosions bloomed out of my rigging, shells rocketing forth as my body lurched to the side, nearly losing my already tedious footing. A few seconds later, water erupted around the Abyssal like fountains. Yes! Another direct hit! So far, two for two! I got this in the bag!
As the water settled, I realized something.
I had miscalculated. Big time.
I hadn't sunk the destroyer. I'd hit it, the creature now had a fire on its snout, one that I was certain wasn't present before. But it was very much unsunk. And very much angry.
Good news, it wasn't acting as a screen nor was it shooting at the soldiers.
Bad news, I was the new target. And I wasted all my shots.
Reload. Reload, and fire at will. Any time would be nice!
It's gun cracked its retort, it's single five-inch gun racking me with fire. Sure, each shell couldn't get through my armor, but each shot felt like a bee sting. Three shots slammed into my arm as I covered my face, one leaving a burning sensation. My smaller guns returned fire, the thud of my three-inch and three-pounders firing music to my ears.
But the damn thing just kept coming! Sure, the smaller three-pounders wouldn't do much, but my three-inch batteries should be doing something! What were the Abyssal's feeding these demented things! It's like a torpedo!
Wait! That's it! Prep port side torpedo tube for launch and
I screamed in pain, something much larger than the destroyer's shots puncturing into my shoulder. Ow! Fucker! Oh, just you wait, little miss heavy cruiser. Once I'm done with your dog, you're next!
Launch it! Launch it now!
Instead of being shot visibly over the side, as most destroyers did, I had my torpedo tubes underwater. Stationary, yes, making them nearly impossible to aim. But it wasn't as easily telegraphed, and for a destroyer trying to rush me, that made all the difference. If it focused on me and didn't notice.
Retorts continued to issue from my guns, trying to keep it focusing on me. Still, it rushed through the water, barreling towards me. Its body began to turn, shifting through the waves.
Where was that torpedo! Had it hit maxim range or something? Go dead in the water? I knew what it was aiming to do. Destroyer? This close to battleship? I knew that it was going to launching torpedoes!
I began to pull myself into a turn, attempting to throw off its aim.
Then the water erupted, a massive geyser shot forth by an explosion, nearly drowning out the destroyers screams of pain. Okay, please let that be enough to kill the little bastard.
By the time the water settled, my wish had come true, with the darkened mass of steel slipping beneath the waves. Good, now I just need to deal with the heavy cruiser, and that was right over.
I wince as the heavy cruiser lands another salvo, two shells slamming into my left leg and another right underneath my ribs. Damnit, I lost track of it while dealing with the destroyer!
My twelve-inch guns groaned as I rotated, correcting for their new target, supported by my eight-inch guns. Each of the smaller guns might as well be useless, but I brought my three inches to bare as well.
Another bloom of gunfire crashed into me, leaving more cuts and impacts along my body. Yeah, yeah, you little shit, flaunt your faster reload. I have something you don't. Large guns.
Once in position, I returned fire, smaller shells bouncing off its armor, but my larger guns were much more effective. My eight-inch shells match it's own, and combined with my main batteries, this was a war of attrition. One I could win.
Then the bombs started dropping. One splashed into the water harmlessly. The second didn't.
I screamed. Pain flared across my shoulder on impact, shrapnel flying in all directions. Fragments cut into my face, leaving gashes the bleed freely down my cheek. What weapons I had free turned towards the sky, letting loose a barrage of bullets.
Move! MOVE! I began to correct my course, swerving around in a mad panic. More shells splashed down around me, thrown off by my erratic movement, delightfully reminding me once again to the cruiser's existence. It had strayed closer, with my main guns prepped and ready. A terrible mistake.
It bellowed as my shells tore into its armor, with its crashing into mine. One more salvo should be enough, but by that point, I'd at least take another volley. Then there was the matter of those freaking bombers! There were just so many of.
I raised my hand just in the nick of time, intercepting a bomb that would have connected with my head dead-on.
I don't even know if I screamed. One second, my hand was there. The next, the bomb punched through the top of one of my main guns and into the ammo belt.
Then I couldn't feel my hand anymore. Not even pain. Just nothing. Something warm splattered across my face, splashing into my eyes.
I tried rubbing the amalgamation of blood and oil from my sockets attempting to clear my vision. Another salvo of shots were fired, but I couldn't tell from where. An explosion rang off from my right, as the Abyssal cruiser let out a deathly scream.
Wait? Could it be? Reinforcements?
Had it been ten minutes, truly? I needed to find them! Sweet, sweet air cover!
Another bomb. I'd been fumbling around blind, I couldn't have seen it. This one slammed into my ankle, at just the right angle.
I couldn't keep my balance, my foot now just a bloody stump of a limb. With time, I did scream, my propeller giving out, as pain lanced through my body. My momentum carried me forward, tumbling into the water's surface. I threw my arms outward, trying to catch myself, only to crash into the water face first.
Agony arced it's way through my hand as salt splashed into the wound. Everything ached, everything hurt. But I couldn't stay still. I was enough of a sitting duck as is. My right arm strained, pushing up the weight of my frame with ease. But I still couldn't move, water failing to provide any purchase. I couldn't even crawl.
How pitiful was that? I couldn't even manage to drag myself away from a fight. I was so dead. An immobile battleship, surrounded by enemy planes without support? I was going the die out here. There was an all too familiar scream in the air, the sound of a plane pulling into a dive.
Mom. Dad. Joseph. I'm sorry.
There was a click, the detachment of a bomb. I closed my eyes, waiting for the pain to come. There was an explosion.
The pain didn't come.
Wiping enough blood from my face to regain at least some vision, I looked up at my savior. She was tall, so much taller than I was. Her rigging bloomed with armaments far larger than my own, but that wasn't the surprise. Strapped in her hands were two massive shields, one being used to cover us both from incoming fire. Her other hand reached down as if to offer me a hand up.
"You are the Kansas, I presume," her voice was sweet, sounding like an older sister. I accepted it, being torn onto my feet by the larger and younger ship.
"Denver, Phoenix, I have her. We need to withdraw back to base immediately. She's hurt. Badly," her voice turned stern, ordering both smaller vessels. I think they were cruisers? Cruisers were named after cities, right?
I might be feeling a bit loopy. No, I was a bit loopy. Pain? Blood loss? Who could tell? I sure couldn't.
A few more booms sounded off in the distance.
"Ma'am, shouldn't we support Washington and her group?" the redhead shouted, seeming ready to turn towards the fighting.
"Negative. The carrier is too close to escape at this point. Kansas on the other hand needs to get to the repair baths."
Good. That sounded nice. I was just going to take a nap.
Chapter 3
Calling this situation a mess would be a considerable understatement. Sure, nobody had made the connection, besides the immediate family, but he knew that wasn't going to last. Someone had to have taken pictures of her awakening on that plane, and the moment the first one's hit the internet, they would be on a timer.
Damnit, there was a reason Jefferson was assigned to that base! He was already on thin ice, but this? Sure, there would be an investigation, but he had no doubts about its outcome. Nearly getting a shipgirl killed, likely on purpose? No, that would be the last straw, he suspected. It was a mercy that there was a patrol in the area, or otherwise they'd be dealing with something much worse.
He looked at the clock and frowned. As much as he would like to have the natural-born Connecticut back on her feet, he lacked a repair ship, and even if he did, he doubted she would be clear to leave the repair bath until long after the rest of her family arrived. While the damage she had sustained was far from fatal, it was considerable. Enough so that anyone not familiar with shipgirl injuries would be mortified. For her time, it was clear she was quite a powerful warship. But that was during her time. Now? She was decades behind, and it showed.
Even more damning right now was her age. While one could enlist at her age, and it was far from unheard of, it required parental consent to do so. Consent that was not given. One could already spin the use of destroyers as using child soldiers, and in fact, many had made such an argument.
It didn't take a media guru to see the scandal writing itself. And a coverup would only make things worse. Even the higher-ups saw that much. Though he doubted throwing Jefferson under the bus wasn't going to be enough to fix the issue. Sure, Kansas was old, but she was still a battleship.
She couldn't enlist yet, as it would be another year before she turned eighteen. Provided after this disaster she wanted to sign onto the Navy at all. His orders were to convince her parents, but quite frankly, after that, he doubted it was possible. In their eyes, the navy nearly got their daughter killed, instead of taking the rational path of keeping an untrained clunker off the front lines.
But a battleship roaming around freely? No, that wasn't going to work, either. That was just a disaster waiting to happen.
There was still some part of this that bothered him, though. Kansas had seemed eager, almost too eager to join the fight, based on the report, entering the fray nearly the same moment she had permission. Asking for which was strange enough in and of itself. While uncommon, and often time unfortunate, there were times shipgirls would awaken when confronted with extreme stress. Most commonly, Abyssal's. In those cases, most would fight without question or permission.
A personality quirk indicative of the Connecticut class overall? He didn't know. There were simply none of her sisters to compare that behavior too. Something to keep an eye on if he could.
Then there were the reports. South Dakota's were professional as always, going over the lists of observed damages, and her intercepting a bomb dropped on top of the flagging battleship. Washington's had yet to come in, as she was there only there to visit the first Dakota, as well a recruitment drive.
As for the Cruisers? Phoenix had ended up being nearly useless, mostly complaining about how she didn't get to fight, other than fighting off a few planes attempting to finish off Kansas. Denver was a bit better, but the Cleaveland had taken to calling the older battleship 'grandma' throughout the report. He'd hope she'd learned the first time she tried that stunt.
Huston and Omaha wouldn't be much help either. Kansas had slipped out of consciousness before the two had even gotten the chance to see her, let alone interact with her. So, South Dakota, it was, then. And she was probably enjoying her time in the repair bath, too. Still, it was better than nothing.
"Sir," a head peaked into his office. "The Williams are here to see you now."
"Thank you. Send them right in, and tell South Dakota to come here as soon as she is able," He nodded his thanks as the family stepped in.
He was right about one thing. Today wasn't going to be a good day.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
Everything felt warm. Pleasant. Comforting, in a way. Like being wrapped in a warm, liquid blanket.
Then came pain. My eye's opened wide, letting out a pitiful groan.
Where was I? Steam filled the air, rising off the tub I was in towards the overhead ceiling. Splashing and shouting revealed I wasn't alone. Around the pool I was sitting in, there was a wall? No that wasn't it.
I wasn't in my old clothes, or the dress, either. I could see the faint outline of a swimsuit, one of those old school ones used for gym class.
Ow, what happened? The last thing I remember was that bomb and, nothing.
Slowly, I raised my arm out of the water, only to find pain. Water splashed upward as I violently through the limb back underwater, grinding my teeth to keep myself from screaming. Leaning back, I let out a sigh, resting my head slightly against the edge of the pool.
I was alive. Holy crap, I was alive! I hadn't been sunk!
I tried to stand up, forgetting for a moment the bath dulled both the pain of my missing hand and the fact I was missing a foot. The splash was what one would expect from a 17 thousand ton battleship doing a faceplant, but I couldn't care! I was alive! I could get to see my friends! My family! Oh.
Oh God. My parents were going to kill me. It didn't matter if I had up to nearly a foot of armor. That wasn't going to stop them.
I sunk back into the water, leaving everything above my mouth exposed. Was it possible to stay here? Like, forever? They couldn't just barge their way in here, right? I wanted to see them, but, I was frightened. I was sure they were okay. They should have been taken to the bomb shelter, so they would be.
Did they know I was even here? Or where here was? I wanted to ask questions, but until my foot grew back, I figured I was stuck. For how long, exactly? I mean, I knew the basic functions of repair baths. Sit a wounded shipgirl in a tub and sometime later, they were healed. It was dependent on type too. Destroyers took less time to be repaired than say, capital ships such as battleships and carriers.
From my sulking position in the water, I looked around slowly, trying to find any indicator of how long I could stay before given the boot. My gaze crawled up a metal pole off to the side, before resting on a giant red number.
Five hours! I was stuck in here for five more hours!
I take back everything I just said. I wanted out! There was no way I could handle five hours of just sitting here without something to do. Give me a book or magazine to read! Hell, waterproof my game systems! Anything to save me from this boredom!
Sleep wasn't going to be an option either. An hour of jet lag was still an hour of jet lag, and I had no idea how long I was out for. Safe to say I wasn't going to be falling asleep for a bit.
A chuckle rang through the air, startlingly close as I whipped my head towards the source, only to see two hands letting go off the wall. There was a wet slap against the floor, followed by the tapping of two small feet, the sound getting further and further away.
Huh, I wonder what that was about. Probably a destroyer, I had to guess, wondering why part of the bathes had been blocked off. Harmless. Almost cute and childlike. Shy too boot.
"The grandma is up!" a childlike voice rang throughout the room, cutting through all the chatter.
Wait? What? Who was she talking about? Grandma? Who the hell was a Grandma! I was seventeen! Heck, if we counted my years of service, I would still be in my teenage years. She better not be referring to me!
There was a laugh that cut through the air. I couldn't quite place it, but it sounded familiar. That didn't sound particularly promising, regardless. I didn't like that laugh. Just rubbed me the wrong way.
A knock broke me out of my thoughts. Of course, this would have a door. Silly me.
"Kansas, are you awake?" a women's voice came from the other side.
"It's Kathrine, and yes, I am," I corrected. Even if people didn't get my name wrong as much now as they once did, it was still a bit of a sore spot for me. Something told me it was going to become a more frequent occurrence.
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"Mr. and Ms. Williams, please, sit down," he gestured towards the two seats in front of his desk. Both parents did so, but their expressions remained stormy.
"I'll cut right through the bullshit," the wife of the pair spoke first, just about ready to slam her hands against the table. "Where is our daughter?"
"Your daughter is currently in the repair baths, ma'am. She will join us once she has made a full recovery."
"And we should trust you, because?"
"Ma'am, with all due respect, I have no reason to lie to you. I'm more than willing to arrange for you to be taken to your daughter right this minute, if you so chose," that made them pause for a moment, sparing a glance between them.
"Fine then. I hope you can explain why our daughter was anywhere near that mess in the first place," it was the father who spoke next.
"Quite frankly, I don't know what Jefferson was thinking. However, I doubt he will be in his position for much longer," his words elicited an eye roll from both parents. "I'll be blunt. His actions nearly got your daughter, a newly awakened shipgirl, killed. I cannot stress how seriously the Navy takes such actions."
Shipgirls were not something to be trifled with. Even a destroyer, if properly motivated, could cause irreparable harm. The higher-ups? They weren't stupid, and even without Blood Week's causalities, shipgirls were by far the best answer to the Abyssal problem.
Which meant they had to be cared for, fed, refueled, and most importantly, treated with respect. A well maintained and cared for vessel tended to simply be better than a vessel neglected or otherwise abused. Shipgirls, at the end of the day, were very much the same. Except now they had other ways to show displeasure at their mistreatment.
Those who couldn't adapt to that simple fact tended to be slowly brought down the totem pole, little by little. Shipgirls were the best answer, and that gave them, and their thoughts, sway.
"Fine. Assuming we do trust you," the women's eyes narrowed. "What exactly is the plan moving forward here? Because if you're going to try and force our daughter to join up." She let the unspoken threat hang in the air for a moment.
"I will admit, Kathrine's case is a bit of an oddity. When it comes to most natural-born shipgirls, one can be reawakened, but at a similar cost to what it would take too summon a shipgirl normally. In most cases, if the shipgirl is underage, it is generally by contract that she will enlist at 18, with parental consent," he paused.
"Your daughter awoke due to stress, and given how things are going, I'm unlikely to get your consent for her to enlist in the first place. She cannot be forced to join the Navy, no more or less so than any other shipgirl," both parents seemed to let out a sigh of relief.
"However," both resumed their glaring, which he ignored. "That raises an entirely different set of issues. Kathrine is the reincarnation of a battleship, the USS Kansas. Your daughter now has an armor belt six to eleven inches thick, four twelve-inch guns, and numerous secondaries. She has enough firepower to inflict considerable damage to those around her, intentional or otherwise."
"And how would you intend to feed her? Most shipgirls have a voracious appetite as is. A capital ship? She will eat you out of house and home. Trivially, at that. I do understand why you don't trust the Navy after this, but there are things you need to be aware of. Ones that I'm certain you aren't prepared for."
"So you're going to hold our daughter's wellbeing over our heads, is that it?" it took everything he had to keep a straight face. He understood. They were mad, upset, and angry, with every right to be.
That wasn't making them any less frustrating to deal with. Especially when ultimately, he wasn't responsible for what happened.
They didn't notice it, but the door peaked open slightly. Dakota? He'd almost forgotten. He signaled for her to leave. Right now, what she had to say wasn't what they were going to like. Or even accept, for that matter.
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The door swung open with a click, and I was thankful my face was partially submerged. At least with that and the steam, she wouldn't notice my face turning as red as a beat. She was impossible not to recognize, even without her rigging. She dwarfed me easily, taller than even my aunt, rippling with muscle that unmistakably marked her as a battleship. Her face could be found both on television and on many recruitment posters.
But I'd recognize her even if I hadn't seen her there. I mean, how could I not? Even with my memory was fuzzy as it was, I still recognized her. South Dakota.
She saved my life. I wasn't going to forget that, even in my previous potentially concussed state. So, yeah, blushing out of embarrassment for being completely loopy was perfectly fine. And nearly getting myself killed.
Okay, that wasn't the only reason. But who could blame me! Older shipgirls looked like supermodels built so well that the entire island of Themyscira would go green with envy! Sure, one probably got used to being around them, but I'd been landlocked in Kansas for years. I've only seen pictures of shipgirls! I never thought I'd see one in person!
"You seem to be doing well," the Dakota slipped into the water, causing ripples that lapped at my nose.
"Depending on how you define well. You could call me stumpy right now," I wanted to gesture towards my arm and foot to drive the point home, but didn't. "And my parents are probably going to kill me, or ground me until the sun explodes or something."
"That seems unlikely. They both seemed quite adamant with their discussion with the Admiral," she rubbed her ear. "Or more accurately, shouting at the Admiral."
Wait, what? They were what! My head came to rest in my hand. Of course, they were shouting at the Admiral.
"How long?" I muttered through my fingers.
"A half-hour, at least. I didn't get to step in, at any rate," she nodded her head. "The Admiral had to subtly wave me out actually." She chuckled a chime-like sound that made me even happier about the shroud of steam.
"It sounds like they care about you a great deal, you know."
"I know. It's just that sometimes, they can be a bit, overbearing, is all. They want what's best for me and are probably scared out of their minds right now, but it's just, my future," my leg kicked at the water, sending small ripples across the water's surface. "I'd like to be able to have a say, is all."
"Given what has transpired, I can't blame you if you don't wish to sign up," I blinked, staring flabbergasted at the younger ship's words. Excuse me?
"No, I'd still want too," I huffed, crossing my arms. I wanted to join the Navy for years! Dropping out now? I was a shipgirl! There was no bigger way to make a difference like this! All I needed to do was show I was still able to fight!
"Besides, I set out myself. I'm willing to take responsibility for my actions," South Dakota let out a sound that could almost be mistaken for some type of hiss.
"That isn't entirely correct. I'm not sure how much you know about natural borns, like yourself, but unlike most, you waited to receive orders. Orders that were given, despite the fact you are present, not a member of any military branch. Yes, you could have ignored those orders, but you were likely just looking for an excuse to join the fight, rather than permission, correct?"
I paused. She wasn't wrong. I'd wanted to fight. At that moment, nothing was more important than going out there and proving I was capable! Nothing else mattered. I had to prove I had worth, as a vessel, as a ship.
"Most natural borns that awaken in the heat of the moment are like that. They don't tend to end up as outmatched as you did," I scowled at the remark. Did not need reminding of how I was bullied by planes, thank you very much!
"Relax. If the carrier hadn't been there you would have been fine," she chuckled at my expression. "They'll get some real anti-air guns on you soon enough."
That? That made me smile. An upgrade? Even if it was just replacing what I had, it would be nice. What else could they strap on me? I had to wonder.
"So, what about the guy," I paused, noticing the souring of Dakota's expression in an instant.
"He wasn't a good admiral," this time, it was her turn to scowl, an angry expression that I wasn't used to seeing on her face. "Don't worry, you won't be working under him. Ever." I scooted backward in the tub, unprepared for the vitriol in her voice. They had a history, it would seem, and it wasn't good.
"Which means my parents are taking their anger out on the wrong person, aren't they?" a simple nod from her left my head longing for the comfort of my palm.
"Our current Admiral is much better," her expression brightened. "He cares about all of us here. I don't know if you'll be stationed here, though. You're from where, exactly?"
"Kansas," I said, causing her to snort. What's so funny?
Oh. I'm the USS Kansas. And I live in Kansas.
My life is a joke. A massive, oversized joke. Someone's going to get punched for this! I don't know who, I don't know when, but it's coming!
"So, Dakota, how's the new grandparent!" a familiar voice shouted again, nearly taking the door clean off its hinges. My eye twitched. Today? Wasn't the greatest of days. So no. I wasn't going to take shit from some whippersnapper who wanted to throw shade.
"Already," I put my hand together with my stump, ignoring the pain coursing through it. "I'm down to a single leg, but I'm going to give you a three-second head start."
"What?" the silvery blonde shot me a puzzled look.
"One."
She blinked as I rose out of the water, balancing on one foot.
"Two."
She was beginning to move out the door.
"Three."
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"Sir, I know you don't want me to interrupt, but there's a situation down at the repair baths," one the secretaries popped her head in.
"What happened?" he asked, taking his mind momentarily off the two parents.
"Kansas woke up, about a half-hour ago, Sir. After having a conversation with South Dakota, Denver broke into the area, before calling Kansas 'Grandmother'," she said, likewise ignoring the two sending her death glares.
"And this is a disaster, why?" He resisted the urge to rub his temple in frustration.
"Because Kansas is currently chasing around Denver on a single leg while shouting that if she catches her, she's going to give Denver a whappin," she paused for a moment. "Whatever that is supposed to mean."
Well, that didn't take long. But regardless, Kansas being up was a good thing.
"Have South Dakota and any other battleship available help return Kansas to the bathes, and try to make sure she stays put. Tell Denver that once current matters have transpired to meet me in my office," he stood up, the secretary nodding her head.
"Where exactly do you think you're going?" At this point, he didn't care which one spoke.
"We're going to see your daughter, of course."
Damnit, there was a reason Jefferson was assigned to that base! He was already on thin ice, but this? Sure, there would be an investigation, but he had no doubts about its outcome. Nearly getting a shipgirl killed, likely on purpose? No, that would be the last straw, he suspected. It was a mercy that there was a patrol in the area, or otherwise they'd be dealing with something much worse.
He looked at the clock and frowned. As much as he would like to have the natural-born Connecticut back on her feet, he lacked a repair ship, and even if he did, he doubted she would be clear to leave the repair bath until long after the rest of her family arrived. While the damage she had sustained was far from fatal, it was considerable. Enough so that anyone not familiar with shipgirl injuries would be mortified. For her time, it was clear she was quite a powerful warship. But that was during her time. Now? She was decades behind, and it showed.
Even more damning right now was her age. While one could enlist at her age, and it was far from unheard of, it required parental consent to do so. Consent that was not given. One could already spin the use of destroyers as using child soldiers, and in fact, many had made such an argument.
It didn't take a media guru to see the scandal writing itself. And a coverup would only make things worse. Even the higher-ups saw that much. Though he doubted throwing Jefferson under the bus wasn't going to be enough to fix the issue. Sure, Kansas was old, but she was still a battleship.
She couldn't enlist yet, as it would be another year before she turned eighteen. Provided after this disaster she wanted to sign onto the Navy at all. His orders were to convince her parents, but quite frankly, after that, he doubted it was possible. In their eyes, the navy nearly got their daughter killed, instead of taking the rational path of keeping an untrained clunker off the front lines.
But a battleship roaming around freely? No, that wasn't going to work, either. That was just a disaster waiting to happen.
There was still some part of this that bothered him, though. Kansas had seemed eager, almost too eager to join the fight, based on the report, entering the fray nearly the same moment she had permission. Asking for which was strange enough in and of itself. While uncommon, and often time unfortunate, there were times shipgirls would awaken when confronted with extreme stress. Most commonly, Abyssal's. In those cases, most would fight without question or permission.
A personality quirk indicative of the Connecticut class overall? He didn't know. There were simply none of her sisters to compare that behavior too. Something to keep an eye on if he could.
Then there were the reports. South Dakota's were professional as always, going over the lists of observed damages, and her intercepting a bomb dropped on top of the flagging battleship. Washington's had yet to come in, as she was there only there to visit the first Dakota, as well a recruitment drive.
As for the Cruisers? Phoenix had ended up being nearly useless, mostly complaining about how she didn't get to fight, other than fighting off a few planes attempting to finish off Kansas. Denver was a bit better, but the Cleaveland had taken to calling the older battleship 'grandma' throughout the report. He'd hope she'd learned the first time she tried that stunt.
Huston and Omaha wouldn't be much help either. Kansas had slipped out of consciousness before the two had even gotten the chance to see her, let alone interact with her. So, South Dakota, it was, then. And she was probably enjoying her time in the repair bath, too. Still, it was better than nothing.
"Sir," a head peaked into his office. "The Williams are here to see you now."
"Thank you. Send them right in, and tell South Dakota to come here as soon as she is able," He nodded his thanks as the family stepped in.
He was right about one thing. Today wasn't going to be a good day.
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Everything felt warm. Pleasant. Comforting, in a way. Like being wrapped in a warm, liquid blanket.
Then came pain. My eye's opened wide, letting out a pitiful groan.
Where was I? Steam filled the air, rising off the tub I was in towards the overhead ceiling. Splashing and shouting revealed I wasn't alone. Around the pool I was sitting in, there was a wall? No that wasn't it.
I wasn't in my old clothes, or the dress, either. I could see the faint outline of a swimsuit, one of those old school ones used for gym class.
Ow, what happened? The last thing I remember was that bomb and, nothing.
Slowly, I raised my arm out of the water, only to find pain. Water splashed upward as I violently through the limb back underwater, grinding my teeth to keep myself from screaming. Leaning back, I let out a sigh, resting my head slightly against the edge of the pool.
I was alive. Holy crap, I was alive! I hadn't been sunk!
I tried to stand up, forgetting for a moment the bath dulled both the pain of my missing hand and the fact I was missing a foot. The splash was what one would expect from a 17 thousand ton battleship doing a faceplant, but I couldn't care! I was alive! I could get to see my friends! My family! Oh.
Oh God. My parents were going to kill me. It didn't matter if I had up to nearly a foot of armor. That wasn't going to stop them.
I sunk back into the water, leaving everything above my mouth exposed. Was it possible to stay here? Like, forever? They couldn't just barge their way in here, right? I wanted to see them, but, I was frightened. I was sure they were okay. They should have been taken to the bomb shelter, so they would be.
Did they know I was even here? Or where here was? I wanted to ask questions, but until my foot grew back, I figured I was stuck. For how long, exactly? I mean, I knew the basic functions of repair baths. Sit a wounded shipgirl in a tub and sometime later, they were healed. It was dependent on type too. Destroyers took less time to be repaired than say, capital ships such as battleships and carriers.
From my sulking position in the water, I looked around slowly, trying to find any indicator of how long I could stay before given the boot. My gaze crawled up a metal pole off to the side, before resting on a giant red number.
Five hours! I was stuck in here for five more hours!
I take back everything I just said. I wanted out! There was no way I could handle five hours of just sitting here without something to do. Give me a book or magazine to read! Hell, waterproof my game systems! Anything to save me from this boredom!
Sleep wasn't going to be an option either. An hour of jet lag was still an hour of jet lag, and I had no idea how long I was out for. Safe to say I wasn't going to be falling asleep for a bit.
A chuckle rang through the air, startlingly close as I whipped my head towards the source, only to see two hands letting go off the wall. There was a wet slap against the floor, followed by the tapping of two small feet, the sound getting further and further away.
Huh, I wonder what that was about. Probably a destroyer, I had to guess, wondering why part of the bathes had been blocked off. Harmless. Almost cute and childlike. Shy too boot.
"The grandma is up!" a childlike voice rang throughout the room, cutting through all the chatter.
Wait? What? Who was she talking about? Grandma? Who the hell was a Grandma! I was seventeen! Heck, if we counted my years of service, I would still be in my teenage years. She better not be referring to me!
There was a laugh that cut through the air. I couldn't quite place it, but it sounded familiar. That didn't sound particularly promising, regardless. I didn't like that laugh. Just rubbed me the wrong way.
A knock broke me out of my thoughts. Of course, this would have a door. Silly me.
"Kansas, are you awake?" a women's voice came from the other side.
"It's Kathrine, and yes, I am," I corrected. Even if people didn't get my name wrong as much now as they once did, it was still a bit of a sore spot for me. Something told me it was going to become a more frequent occurrence.
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"Mr. and Ms. Williams, please, sit down," he gestured towards the two seats in front of his desk. Both parents did so, but their expressions remained stormy.
"I'll cut right through the bullshit," the wife of the pair spoke first, just about ready to slam her hands against the table. "Where is our daughter?"
"Your daughter is currently in the repair baths, ma'am. She will join us once she has made a full recovery."
"And we should trust you, because?"
"Ma'am, with all due respect, I have no reason to lie to you. I'm more than willing to arrange for you to be taken to your daughter right this minute, if you so chose," that made them pause for a moment, sparing a glance between them.
"Fine then. I hope you can explain why our daughter was anywhere near that mess in the first place," it was the father who spoke next.
"Quite frankly, I don't know what Jefferson was thinking. However, I doubt he will be in his position for much longer," his words elicited an eye roll from both parents. "I'll be blunt. His actions nearly got your daughter, a newly awakened shipgirl, killed. I cannot stress how seriously the Navy takes such actions."
Shipgirls were not something to be trifled with. Even a destroyer, if properly motivated, could cause irreparable harm. The higher-ups? They weren't stupid, and even without Blood Week's causalities, shipgirls were by far the best answer to the Abyssal problem.
Which meant they had to be cared for, fed, refueled, and most importantly, treated with respect. A well maintained and cared for vessel tended to simply be better than a vessel neglected or otherwise abused. Shipgirls, at the end of the day, were very much the same. Except now they had other ways to show displeasure at their mistreatment.
Those who couldn't adapt to that simple fact tended to be slowly brought down the totem pole, little by little. Shipgirls were the best answer, and that gave them, and their thoughts, sway.
"Fine. Assuming we do trust you," the women's eyes narrowed. "What exactly is the plan moving forward here? Because if you're going to try and force our daughter to join up." She let the unspoken threat hang in the air for a moment.
"I will admit, Kathrine's case is a bit of an oddity. When it comes to most natural-born shipgirls, one can be reawakened, but at a similar cost to what it would take too summon a shipgirl normally. In most cases, if the shipgirl is underage, it is generally by contract that she will enlist at 18, with parental consent," he paused.
"Your daughter awoke due to stress, and given how things are going, I'm unlikely to get your consent for her to enlist in the first place. She cannot be forced to join the Navy, no more or less so than any other shipgirl," both parents seemed to let out a sigh of relief.
"However," both resumed their glaring, which he ignored. "That raises an entirely different set of issues. Kathrine is the reincarnation of a battleship, the USS Kansas. Your daughter now has an armor belt six to eleven inches thick, four twelve-inch guns, and numerous secondaries. She has enough firepower to inflict considerable damage to those around her, intentional or otherwise."
"And how would you intend to feed her? Most shipgirls have a voracious appetite as is. A capital ship? She will eat you out of house and home. Trivially, at that. I do understand why you don't trust the Navy after this, but there are things you need to be aware of. Ones that I'm certain you aren't prepared for."
"So you're going to hold our daughter's wellbeing over our heads, is that it?" it took everything he had to keep a straight face. He understood. They were mad, upset, and angry, with every right to be.
That wasn't making them any less frustrating to deal with. Especially when ultimately, he wasn't responsible for what happened.
They didn't notice it, but the door peaked open slightly. Dakota? He'd almost forgotten. He signaled for her to leave. Right now, what she had to say wasn't what they were going to like. Or even accept, for that matter.
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The door swung open with a click, and I was thankful my face was partially submerged. At least with that and the steam, she wouldn't notice my face turning as red as a beat. She was impossible not to recognize, even without her rigging. She dwarfed me easily, taller than even my aunt, rippling with muscle that unmistakably marked her as a battleship. Her face could be found both on television and on many recruitment posters.
But I'd recognize her even if I hadn't seen her there. I mean, how could I not? Even with my memory was fuzzy as it was, I still recognized her. South Dakota.
She saved my life. I wasn't going to forget that, even in my previous potentially concussed state. So, yeah, blushing out of embarrassment for being completely loopy was perfectly fine. And nearly getting myself killed.
Okay, that wasn't the only reason. But who could blame me! Older shipgirls looked like supermodels built so well that the entire island of Themyscira would go green with envy! Sure, one probably got used to being around them, but I'd been landlocked in Kansas for years. I've only seen pictures of shipgirls! I never thought I'd see one in person!
"You seem to be doing well," the Dakota slipped into the water, causing ripples that lapped at my nose.
"Depending on how you define well. You could call me stumpy right now," I wanted to gesture towards my arm and foot to drive the point home, but didn't. "And my parents are probably going to kill me, or ground me until the sun explodes or something."
"That seems unlikely. They both seemed quite adamant with their discussion with the Admiral," she rubbed her ear. "Or more accurately, shouting at the Admiral."
Wait, what? They were what! My head came to rest in my hand. Of course, they were shouting at the Admiral.
"How long?" I muttered through my fingers.
"A half-hour, at least. I didn't get to step in, at any rate," she nodded her head. "The Admiral had to subtly wave me out actually." She chuckled a chime-like sound that made me even happier about the shroud of steam.
"It sounds like they care about you a great deal, you know."
"I know. It's just that sometimes, they can be a bit, overbearing, is all. They want what's best for me and are probably scared out of their minds right now, but it's just, my future," my leg kicked at the water, sending small ripples across the water's surface. "I'd like to be able to have a say, is all."
"Given what has transpired, I can't blame you if you don't wish to sign up," I blinked, staring flabbergasted at the younger ship's words. Excuse me?
"No, I'd still want too," I huffed, crossing my arms. I wanted to join the Navy for years! Dropping out now? I was a shipgirl! There was no bigger way to make a difference like this! All I needed to do was show I was still able to fight!
"Besides, I set out myself. I'm willing to take responsibility for my actions," South Dakota let out a sound that could almost be mistaken for some type of hiss.
"That isn't entirely correct. I'm not sure how much you know about natural borns, like yourself, but unlike most, you waited to receive orders. Orders that were given, despite the fact you are present, not a member of any military branch. Yes, you could have ignored those orders, but you were likely just looking for an excuse to join the fight, rather than permission, correct?"
I paused. She wasn't wrong. I'd wanted to fight. At that moment, nothing was more important than going out there and proving I was capable! Nothing else mattered. I had to prove I had worth, as a vessel, as a ship.
"Most natural borns that awaken in the heat of the moment are like that. They don't tend to end up as outmatched as you did," I scowled at the remark. Did not need reminding of how I was bullied by planes, thank you very much!
"Relax. If the carrier hadn't been there you would have been fine," she chuckled at my expression. "They'll get some real anti-air guns on you soon enough."
That? That made me smile. An upgrade? Even if it was just replacing what I had, it would be nice. What else could they strap on me? I had to wonder.
"So, what about the guy," I paused, noticing the souring of Dakota's expression in an instant.
"He wasn't a good admiral," this time, it was her turn to scowl, an angry expression that I wasn't used to seeing on her face. "Don't worry, you won't be working under him. Ever." I scooted backward in the tub, unprepared for the vitriol in her voice. They had a history, it would seem, and it wasn't good.
"Which means my parents are taking their anger out on the wrong person, aren't they?" a simple nod from her left my head longing for the comfort of my palm.
"Our current Admiral is much better," her expression brightened. "He cares about all of us here. I don't know if you'll be stationed here, though. You're from where, exactly?"
"Kansas," I said, causing her to snort. What's so funny?
Oh. I'm the USS Kansas. And I live in Kansas.
My life is a joke. A massive, oversized joke. Someone's going to get punched for this! I don't know who, I don't know when, but it's coming!
"So, Dakota, how's the new grandparent!" a familiar voice shouted again, nearly taking the door clean off its hinges. My eye twitched. Today? Wasn't the greatest of days. So no. I wasn't going to take shit from some whippersnapper who wanted to throw shade.
"Already," I put my hand together with my stump, ignoring the pain coursing through it. "I'm down to a single leg, but I'm going to give you a three-second head start."
"What?" the silvery blonde shot me a puzzled look.
"One."
She blinked as I rose out of the water, balancing on one foot.
"Two."
She was beginning to move out the door.
"Three."
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"Sir, I know you don't want me to interrupt, but there's a situation down at the repair baths," one the secretaries popped her head in.
"What happened?" he asked, taking his mind momentarily off the two parents.
"Kansas woke up, about a half-hour ago, Sir. After having a conversation with South Dakota, Denver broke into the area, before calling Kansas 'Grandmother'," she said, likewise ignoring the two sending her death glares.
"And this is a disaster, why?" He resisted the urge to rub his temple in frustration.
"Because Kansas is currently chasing around Denver on a single leg while shouting that if she catches her, she's going to give Denver a whappin," she paused for a moment. "Whatever that is supposed to mean."
Well, that didn't take long. But regardless, Kansas being up was a good thing.
"Have South Dakota and any other battleship available help return Kansas to the bathes, and try to make sure she stays put. Tell Denver that once current matters have transpired to meet me in my office," he stood up, the secretary nodding her head.
"Where exactly do you think you're going?" At this point, he didn't care which one spoke.
"We're going to see your daughter, of course."
Chapter 4
Eventually, I had to leave Denver alone and finish sitting in the repair bath.
No, it wasn't because South Dakota was stronger than me and I couldn't worm my way out of her grasp, of course not. That's completely ridiculous.
I let out a sigh as I lowered myself back into the steaming water. How did they get painkillers into this, anyway? Was this a shipgirl thing, or did they add something?
Another knock sounded at the door, before swinging open. The first thing I noticed was the man in a navy uniform. The second was.
"Mom! Dad!" I bolted upright, only to lose my balance once again, splashing facefirst into the water. Damnit foot! Regrow already!
"Sweety!" despite the fact I was in what amounted to a hot tub, mom hopped in, wrapping me in a massive hug. A hug I returned as gingerly and lightly as I could. It's not that I wasn't completely and utterly worried sick.
I was really, really concerned with not breaking her spine.
"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" I quickly sunk my stump of a hand back underwater before she could notice it. Probably best if I didn't let her see that. She'd probably yell at the man I assumed was the Admiral of this base. Again.
"Mom, I'm fine," my eyes attempted to twitch into the water where my still missing hand was. "Mostly." She wrapped me in another squeeze, this time nearly around my neck.
"Are you sure?" I nodded. She was worried sick, after all. I could even see the faint begins of tears in her eyes. I didn't want to worry her even further.
"How much longer do you have to be in there for?" Oh, dad. Always trying to react reserved, but I could see the redness in your eyes. Your attempts at appearing angry were superficial sometimes. Regardless, I gestured towards the electronic timer near the bath. Unsurprisingly, it hadn't changed since my pursuit of Denver.
He didn't seem all that assumed by the fact I still had hours to go until I was fit to leave.
"Dad, I took an armor-piercing bomb to one of my primary turrets, and another to a propeller. Naturally, I'd be here for a bit," I tried to brush off the injuries as much as possible. The naval jargon may have flown my mom by, but I doubted it would work on dad. We used to watch that World War 2 naval documentary together. Back when the History Channel covered history.
I gently returned my mom's hug, before trying to get her out of the tub. It was full of water, and I didn't have the foggiest clue as to if our luggage survived. Her walking around in soggy clothes? We were in Florida, I think. That generally puts the humidity as near unbearable as is.
"On behalf of the navy, I would like to extend an apology for the events that have transpired," I blinked as the Admiral spoke for the first time. He seemed slightly, younger than I had expected. Okay, professional time. I'd already faceplanted in front of him, so I needed to make this count.
"Apology accepted, sir," I nodded respectfully. It was probably hard to look professional when in a bathing suit. Or laying down, for that matter, but I had a distinct feeling he didn't want me moving around anymore. Probably had something to do with South Dakota dragging me back here, now that I think about it.
I felt my mom shift awkwardly, clearly not agreeing with my statement.
"Apology not accepted," dad ground out. Please don't tell me they were still under the impression that he was the one that sent me out. Oh, who am I kidding, they probably were. I understood their anger, but it was completely misplaced!
"Dad, he wasn't the one who ordered me out there. Please calm down," I intended to defuse the situation. It would be completely embarrassing for my parents to start shouting at him. Here especially.
"Where did you hear that? Anyone here could be lying to cover his ass!" dad shot back, and scowled. Damnit, dad. You were getting too wound up right now. Fine. Did you want to get confrontational about this?
"South Dakota," I began to rise out of the water. "Who, by the way, sounded like she absolutely despised the man." I meet my dad's eyes with a dead even glare, completely unwavering.
"There was too much hatred in her voice to be anything else," I cut him off before he could get any more hot air into his system. Both of us were about to continue, preparing to ramp up into a full-blown shouting match, but a gasp from my mom distracted us.
Oh. Right. I'm standing up now. That means she can see my hand. Crap.
"Kathrine, as much as I appreciate you coming to my defense, you need to remain in the repair bath for it to be effective," I slunk back down into the water, now somewhat embarrassed with myself. Once there, my mom proceeded to cuddle with my head. I told her I was fine!
"As I'm certain South Dakota has informed you, we were discussing your future," I didn't need to look at my parents to know they were sending him murderous glares. "While you aren't eighteen yet, you're old enough to at least be part of this discussion."
Was he? Offering me a position? Right now? Yes! YES! YES! This is what I pushed myself for for five years!
"So you want me to join the Navy?" I asked, my eyes alight with wonder.
"No!"
"Absolutely not!"
Only to be brought down but the harsh shouts of dejection by my parents.
"Oh come on!" I shouted. "I've wanted to join the Navy since the war with the Abyssal's started! I'm a shipgirl now! How can you expect me to sit this out?"
"You nearly died! You know we didn't entirely approve of this in the first place! What makes you think we're going to approve of it now?" I'm pretty sure it was my mom who shouted back.
"I was on my own! That isn't going to happen again!" I shot back, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw the admiral nod, though I doubt either of my parents noticed.
"Kathrine, you're also Kansas. How out of date you are is considerable," it was a bit strange to have my father attempt to be the voice of reason. "You don't even have proper anti-aircraft guns for World War 1, much less now."
"So? Replace them with newer models," I said, trying to calm down, before pausing. "And probably take out my three-inchers and put five-inch guns in their place, now that I think about it." There. Anti-air and firepower problems are solved.
"Unfortunately, it'd have to be more than that," it was the Admiral that cut my parents off. "On top of that, you need fire control, a functioning radar and radio systems, a complete internal overhaul for all the electronics and components. And if we're doing that much, we might as well replace your boilers, engine, and possibly your propeller while we're at it. Alongside enhancements to your armor overall including a torpedo belt, and even filling in your torpedo tubes."
I stared at him. I knew I was out of date, that much was obvious. I hadn't considered radios, which should be an obvious inclusion, but all that? Though I'd have to negotiate about the torpedoes. I kind of liked having them.
"It would be less of a refit and more of a complete rebuild."
"That sounds a bit expensive," oh, now you choose to listen to him! Dad wasn't wrong about that. That sounded considerably expensive. As in, could build a brand new ship expensive.
"Of course it would be expensive. It would also need to be done regardless, no matter how much some might groan about it," holy cow. He wasn't joking around about this. An old clunker like me getting this much? It warmed my heart. "The problem is that this base lacks the repair ship to make such drastic modifications, nor do I know if you'll stay at this base."
Damn! Still, that was better than nothing. I'd certainly take an eventual upgrade at any rate. Wait? Not stay? Why? I liked it here!
"Most of the time, if stationed at a base, a natural born's family either already lives close by, or is willing to move. Seeing as you come from Kansas," there was a pause like he was about to explain further, but we got it. Okay, yeah, that was a bit of a stinker.
"That's if we agree to enlist her, though. Which we do not," I scowled at her, mustering up the angriest glare I could manage. Oh, come on mom! What's wrong with you! The admiral let out a sigh.
"I would recommend you discuss this with your daughter later, both of you, before you come to a final decision," there was a look on his face I didn't like. He looked tired, or maybe, angry? Frustrated?
"However, if that is what you wish, there are some things that need to be talked about."
"Such as?" I raised an eyebrow cautiously. I wasn't going to like what he had to say, was I?
"What we have to do with your rigging," yep, I can already tell I wasn't going to like this in the slightest. "Due to the destructive firepower available to most shipgirls, most in the navy are trained to not summon it on accident. Both to prevent a panic, and also to stop misfires and other accidents from occurring."
Okay, that sounded reasonable, but I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"As such, letting a shipgirl go completely unaccounted for is a bad idea. As such, until your daughter is of age and can enlist without your permission, we have to separate her rigging from her. It's a modified version of scrapping."
I stopped processing information after that. His lips were moving, but I just didn't hear anything. The warm air of the bath faded away into frozen chills. Scrapping. A word that cut through my brain like a knife. No. Absolutely not. I was not going through that again. The nightmare that plagued my childhood finally made sense. I had been scrapped, torn apart, ripped to shreds, broken down, and sold for parts. Me and my sisters. It hurt. It had hurt so much.
"Kathrine. Kathrine!" my mom's shaking snapped me back. My face was wet. Had I started crying? "What's wrong?"
"No. Mom, just no," I was rocking back and forth, legs pressed against my chest. "I'm not going through that again. I refuse. I'd rather do anything but that!" Tears were streaming down my face now, and I couldn't even care.
"Katherine! Calm down!" I think my dad was panicking now.
"NO! It hurt so much! I was ripped and torn and gutted, parts of me being melted off! It's been haunting my nightmares as long as I remember! I won't go through it again! You can't make me!" I was sobbing, body wracked with phantom pains as I continued to rock back and forth.
"You can't make me," I quietly cried, ignoring any attempts my parents made to reach me.
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"So I assume you acquired permission?"
"Yes. Sadly, agreement to her to enlist was only given after I nearly caused her to have a panic attack," Jones shook his head. He knew scrapping tended to be a touchy subject when it came to shipgirls. Katherine's reaction?
It had blown anything he'd ever seen out of the water. Some shipgirls would have nightmares from time to time about their deaths, but this? From what he heard, Kansas had only recently come out of the repair bathes, staying in for over an hour longer than needed. Probably for food at worst, or giving in to the prodding of her family at best.
"That is worthy of note at least. With Kansas awakening, it wouldn't surprise me if we see the rest of her sisters soon. If they share trauma, it would be best to know about it ahead of time," the statement wasn't wrong. All Connecticut's were scrapped, so they might just share the same fears. Or worse, take to it violently.
"I'm uncertain about sending her into battle after that. If she reacts like that again, it could lead to devastating consequences."
"She has a psychologist presently. While I think this was an isolated incident, if necessary she could clear her."
"Very well. That point can be conceded for the time being if that is the case. The biggest issue is all the upgrades Kansas and the rest of the Connecticut's will need."
"Ultimately, it's worth it. Sure, they're old, but we've provided upgrades for vessels as old as South Carolina to keep them operational. Today's incident proved we cannot let defenses in the Atlantic cannot be let down."
"Agreed. Keeping them in port just uses money, and while we one of the largest shipgirl navies in the world, more hands available would be stupid to just throw aside. Given her guns are also twelve-inch, Kansas should be able to fire the superheavy shells."
"That's only a bandaid on the firepower issue. Kansas has half the twelve-inch guns as South Carolina."
"I might have a solution to that problem," Johns said, pouring over a combination of notes. "Or at the very least, a way to counterbalance it."
"Go on."
"Connecticut's have a considerable secondary complement. Eight eight-inch guns, 12-seven-inch guns, and if we replace all her three inches, twenty five-inch batteries. If these are more modern five inches, then those alone would match South Dakota in terms of volume. We can also upgrade her primary battery to mark seven, or even the eights used on Alaska. Similarly, replacing her current eight-inch guns with the larger fifty-five caliber ones found on most heavy cruisers could also be effective."
"This does sound more like you're building a completely new ship. However, I see the point. I'll send these ideas to repair ships and the engineering team, alongside the rest of your ideas. However, I will give you permission to get started, mostly when it comes to anti-air and those five-inch guns."
"Thank you, sir. Kansas will appreciate that," Jones nodded in respect.
"One further question, before this meeting is adjourned. Seeing as this family isn't local, do you have any knowledge about plans for accommodations?"
"Yes sir. They currently have two relatives serving in the Navy. Last I heard, they were communicating to see if they're willing to take Kansas on in the meantime."
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"Hello?"
"Lucas? Is that you?"
"It better be. I was expecting you to call soon anyway," the younger man let out a dour chuckle.
"What do you mean, you were expecting us to call?" there was restraint in her voice, trying to keep it just below a shout.
"Well, for starters, Kathrine's face has been more or less plastered all over the internet. Someone managed to snag a picture of South Dakota dragging her into port," both parents winced. That was not something they wanted to see, but both knew that once they got back to Kansas, nobody was going to want to talk about anything else.
"Secondly, I kind of had a feeling that she was a shipgirl."
"What?" this time, voices weren't kept below shouting volume. "You didn't think about telling us sooner!"
"Spend enough time around shipgirls and you tend to get a feeling for them. Besides, I didn't know for certain, and what would you two have done with that knowledge, anyway?" both parents shuffled their feet. What exactly would they have done? Keep her from the truth, for starters. She was their daughter. They wanted to keep her safe.
More than a few things made sense now, in hindsight. The nightmares that sometimes bordered into the realms of night terrors, especially getting worse after Blood Week. Her sudden urge to join the Navy. Put together, it painted quite the clear picture.
They wanted to protect her, but. Well, that had caused her a lot of pain. Her, their only daughter. They had almost made her confront something beyond terrifying. Something that surpassed anything they could imagine in pain and suffering. It scared them.
"We were wondering if you could watch over Kathrine when she gets assigned to a base."
"You do realize that would mean she's assigned to the San Diego naval base, right? Shipgirl insanity capital of the world, right up there with the likes of Yokosuka?" a pause hung in the air. "Of course she can stay! The kids talked about seeing her again!"
No, it wasn't because South Dakota was stronger than me and I couldn't worm my way out of her grasp, of course not. That's completely ridiculous.
I let out a sigh as I lowered myself back into the steaming water. How did they get painkillers into this, anyway? Was this a shipgirl thing, or did they add something?
Another knock sounded at the door, before swinging open. The first thing I noticed was the man in a navy uniform. The second was.
"Mom! Dad!" I bolted upright, only to lose my balance once again, splashing facefirst into the water. Damnit foot! Regrow already!
"Sweety!" despite the fact I was in what amounted to a hot tub, mom hopped in, wrapping me in a massive hug. A hug I returned as gingerly and lightly as I could. It's not that I wasn't completely and utterly worried sick.
I was really, really concerned with not breaking her spine.
"Are you okay? Are you hurt?" I quickly sunk my stump of a hand back underwater before she could notice it. Probably best if I didn't let her see that. She'd probably yell at the man I assumed was the Admiral of this base. Again.
"Mom, I'm fine," my eyes attempted to twitch into the water where my still missing hand was. "Mostly." She wrapped me in another squeeze, this time nearly around my neck.
"Are you sure?" I nodded. She was worried sick, after all. I could even see the faint begins of tears in her eyes. I didn't want to worry her even further.
"How much longer do you have to be in there for?" Oh, dad. Always trying to react reserved, but I could see the redness in your eyes. Your attempts at appearing angry were superficial sometimes. Regardless, I gestured towards the electronic timer near the bath. Unsurprisingly, it hadn't changed since my pursuit of Denver.
He didn't seem all that assumed by the fact I still had hours to go until I was fit to leave.
"Dad, I took an armor-piercing bomb to one of my primary turrets, and another to a propeller. Naturally, I'd be here for a bit," I tried to brush off the injuries as much as possible. The naval jargon may have flown my mom by, but I doubted it would work on dad. We used to watch that World War 2 naval documentary together. Back when the History Channel covered history.
I gently returned my mom's hug, before trying to get her out of the tub. It was full of water, and I didn't have the foggiest clue as to if our luggage survived. Her walking around in soggy clothes? We were in Florida, I think. That generally puts the humidity as near unbearable as is.
"On behalf of the navy, I would like to extend an apology for the events that have transpired," I blinked as the Admiral spoke for the first time. He seemed slightly, younger than I had expected. Okay, professional time. I'd already faceplanted in front of him, so I needed to make this count.
"Apology accepted, sir," I nodded respectfully. It was probably hard to look professional when in a bathing suit. Or laying down, for that matter, but I had a distinct feeling he didn't want me moving around anymore. Probably had something to do with South Dakota dragging me back here, now that I think about it.
I felt my mom shift awkwardly, clearly not agreeing with my statement.
"Apology not accepted," dad ground out. Please don't tell me they were still under the impression that he was the one that sent me out. Oh, who am I kidding, they probably were. I understood their anger, but it was completely misplaced!
"Dad, he wasn't the one who ordered me out there. Please calm down," I intended to defuse the situation. It would be completely embarrassing for my parents to start shouting at him. Here especially.
"Where did you hear that? Anyone here could be lying to cover his ass!" dad shot back, and scowled. Damnit, dad. You were getting too wound up right now. Fine. Did you want to get confrontational about this?
"South Dakota," I began to rise out of the water. "Who, by the way, sounded like she absolutely despised the man." I meet my dad's eyes with a dead even glare, completely unwavering.
"There was too much hatred in her voice to be anything else," I cut him off before he could get any more hot air into his system. Both of us were about to continue, preparing to ramp up into a full-blown shouting match, but a gasp from my mom distracted us.
Oh. Right. I'm standing up now. That means she can see my hand. Crap.
"Kathrine, as much as I appreciate you coming to my defense, you need to remain in the repair bath for it to be effective," I slunk back down into the water, now somewhat embarrassed with myself. Once there, my mom proceeded to cuddle with my head. I told her I was fine!
"As I'm certain South Dakota has informed you, we were discussing your future," I didn't need to look at my parents to know they were sending him murderous glares. "While you aren't eighteen yet, you're old enough to at least be part of this discussion."
Was he? Offering me a position? Right now? Yes! YES! YES! This is what I pushed myself for for five years!
"So you want me to join the Navy?" I asked, my eyes alight with wonder.
"No!"
"Absolutely not!"
Only to be brought down but the harsh shouts of dejection by my parents.
"Oh come on!" I shouted. "I've wanted to join the Navy since the war with the Abyssal's started! I'm a shipgirl now! How can you expect me to sit this out?"
"You nearly died! You know we didn't entirely approve of this in the first place! What makes you think we're going to approve of it now?" I'm pretty sure it was my mom who shouted back.
"I was on my own! That isn't going to happen again!" I shot back, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw the admiral nod, though I doubt either of my parents noticed.
"Kathrine, you're also Kansas. How out of date you are is considerable," it was a bit strange to have my father attempt to be the voice of reason. "You don't even have proper anti-aircraft guns for World War 1, much less now."
"So? Replace them with newer models," I said, trying to calm down, before pausing. "And probably take out my three-inchers and put five-inch guns in their place, now that I think about it." There. Anti-air and firepower problems are solved.
"Unfortunately, it'd have to be more than that," it was the Admiral that cut my parents off. "On top of that, you need fire control, a functioning radar and radio systems, a complete internal overhaul for all the electronics and components. And if we're doing that much, we might as well replace your boilers, engine, and possibly your propeller while we're at it. Alongside enhancements to your armor overall including a torpedo belt, and even filling in your torpedo tubes."
I stared at him. I knew I was out of date, that much was obvious. I hadn't considered radios, which should be an obvious inclusion, but all that? Though I'd have to negotiate about the torpedoes. I kind of liked having them.
"It would be less of a refit and more of a complete rebuild."
"That sounds a bit expensive," oh, now you choose to listen to him! Dad wasn't wrong about that. That sounded considerably expensive. As in, could build a brand new ship expensive.
"Of course it would be expensive. It would also need to be done regardless, no matter how much some might groan about it," holy cow. He wasn't joking around about this. An old clunker like me getting this much? It warmed my heart. "The problem is that this base lacks the repair ship to make such drastic modifications, nor do I know if you'll stay at this base."
Damn! Still, that was better than nothing. I'd certainly take an eventual upgrade at any rate. Wait? Not stay? Why? I liked it here!
"Most of the time, if stationed at a base, a natural born's family either already lives close by, or is willing to move. Seeing as you come from Kansas," there was a pause like he was about to explain further, but we got it. Okay, yeah, that was a bit of a stinker.
"That's if we agree to enlist her, though. Which we do not," I scowled at her, mustering up the angriest glare I could manage. Oh, come on mom! What's wrong with you! The admiral let out a sigh.
"I would recommend you discuss this with your daughter later, both of you, before you come to a final decision," there was a look on his face I didn't like. He looked tired, or maybe, angry? Frustrated?
"However, if that is what you wish, there are some things that need to be talked about."
"Such as?" I raised an eyebrow cautiously. I wasn't going to like what he had to say, was I?
"What we have to do with your rigging," yep, I can already tell I wasn't going to like this in the slightest. "Due to the destructive firepower available to most shipgirls, most in the navy are trained to not summon it on accident. Both to prevent a panic, and also to stop misfires and other accidents from occurring."
Okay, that sounded reasonable, but I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"As such, letting a shipgirl go completely unaccounted for is a bad idea. As such, until your daughter is of age and can enlist without your permission, we have to separate her rigging from her. It's a modified version of scrapping."
I stopped processing information after that. His lips were moving, but I just didn't hear anything. The warm air of the bath faded away into frozen chills. Scrapping. A word that cut through my brain like a knife. No. Absolutely not. I was not going through that again. The nightmare that plagued my childhood finally made sense. I had been scrapped, torn apart, ripped to shreds, broken down, and sold for parts. Me and my sisters. It hurt. It had hurt so much.
"Kathrine. Kathrine!" my mom's shaking snapped me back. My face was wet. Had I started crying? "What's wrong?"
"No. Mom, just no," I was rocking back and forth, legs pressed against my chest. "I'm not going through that again. I refuse. I'd rather do anything but that!" Tears were streaming down my face now, and I couldn't even care.
"Katherine! Calm down!" I think my dad was panicking now.
"NO! It hurt so much! I was ripped and torn and gutted, parts of me being melted off! It's been haunting my nightmares as long as I remember! I won't go through it again! You can't make me!" I was sobbing, body wracked with phantom pains as I continued to rock back and forth.
"You can't make me," I quietly cried, ignoring any attempts my parents made to reach me.
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"So I assume you acquired permission?"
"Yes. Sadly, agreement to her to enlist was only given after I nearly caused her to have a panic attack," Jones shook his head. He knew scrapping tended to be a touchy subject when it came to shipgirls. Katherine's reaction?
It had blown anything he'd ever seen out of the water. Some shipgirls would have nightmares from time to time about their deaths, but this? From what he heard, Kansas had only recently come out of the repair bathes, staying in for over an hour longer than needed. Probably for food at worst, or giving in to the prodding of her family at best.
"That is worthy of note at least. With Kansas awakening, it wouldn't surprise me if we see the rest of her sisters soon. If they share trauma, it would be best to know about it ahead of time," the statement wasn't wrong. All Connecticut's were scrapped, so they might just share the same fears. Or worse, take to it violently.
"I'm uncertain about sending her into battle after that. If she reacts like that again, it could lead to devastating consequences."
"She has a psychologist presently. While I think this was an isolated incident, if necessary she could clear her."
"Very well. That point can be conceded for the time being if that is the case. The biggest issue is all the upgrades Kansas and the rest of the Connecticut's will need."
"Ultimately, it's worth it. Sure, they're old, but we've provided upgrades for vessels as old as South Carolina to keep them operational. Today's incident proved we cannot let defenses in the Atlantic cannot be let down."
"Agreed. Keeping them in port just uses money, and while we one of the largest shipgirl navies in the world, more hands available would be stupid to just throw aside. Given her guns are also twelve-inch, Kansas should be able to fire the superheavy shells."
"That's only a bandaid on the firepower issue. Kansas has half the twelve-inch guns as South Carolina."
"I might have a solution to that problem," Johns said, pouring over a combination of notes. "Or at the very least, a way to counterbalance it."
"Go on."
"Connecticut's have a considerable secondary complement. Eight eight-inch guns, 12-seven-inch guns, and if we replace all her three inches, twenty five-inch batteries. If these are more modern five inches, then those alone would match South Dakota in terms of volume. We can also upgrade her primary battery to mark seven, or even the eights used on Alaska. Similarly, replacing her current eight-inch guns with the larger fifty-five caliber ones found on most heavy cruisers could also be effective."
"This does sound more like you're building a completely new ship. However, I see the point. I'll send these ideas to repair ships and the engineering team, alongside the rest of your ideas. However, I will give you permission to get started, mostly when it comes to anti-air and those five-inch guns."
"Thank you, sir. Kansas will appreciate that," Jones nodded in respect.
"One further question, before this meeting is adjourned. Seeing as this family isn't local, do you have any knowledge about plans for accommodations?"
"Yes sir. They currently have two relatives serving in the Navy. Last I heard, they were communicating to see if they're willing to take Kansas on in the meantime."
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"Hello?"
"Lucas? Is that you?"
"It better be. I was expecting you to call soon anyway," the younger man let out a dour chuckle.
"What do you mean, you were expecting us to call?" there was restraint in her voice, trying to keep it just below a shout.
"Well, for starters, Kathrine's face has been more or less plastered all over the internet. Someone managed to snag a picture of South Dakota dragging her into port," both parents winced. That was not something they wanted to see, but both knew that once they got back to Kansas, nobody was going to want to talk about anything else.
"Secondly, I kind of had a feeling that she was a shipgirl."
"What?" this time, voices weren't kept below shouting volume. "You didn't think about telling us sooner!"
"Spend enough time around shipgirls and you tend to get a feeling for them. Besides, I didn't know for certain, and what would you two have done with that knowledge, anyway?" both parents shuffled their feet. What exactly would they have done? Keep her from the truth, for starters. She was their daughter. They wanted to keep her safe.
More than a few things made sense now, in hindsight. The nightmares that sometimes bordered into the realms of night terrors, especially getting worse after Blood Week. Her sudden urge to join the Navy. Put together, it painted quite the clear picture.
They wanted to protect her, but. Well, that had caused her a lot of pain. Her, their only daughter. They had almost made her confront something beyond terrifying. Something that surpassed anything they could imagine in pain and suffering. It scared them.
"We were wondering if you could watch over Kathrine when she gets assigned to a base."
"You do realize that would mean she's assigned to the San Diego naval base, right? Shipgirl insanity capital of the world, right up there with the likes of Yokosuka?" a pause hung in the air. "Of course she can stay! The kids talked about seeing her again!"
Chapter 5
I was just tired. Gone. Drained. Completely and without any amount of energy to care. Sure I ate, the grumbling of my stomach finally driving me out the repair bath and into the mess, but it was pretty much in silence. If someone talked to me, I don't even know if I responded. Hell, I don't think anyone sat near me, besides my parents and brother. But I just didn't care for their company.
By this point, I was ready to call it a day. Throw in the towel, get some rest, and be ready for tomorrow. Which is exactly what I ended up doing. After a brief escort to the room we were staying in, I just flopped onto the inflatable mattress and closed my eyes.
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Something felt warm. Pleasant. Nice.
There was a voice. It felt like was being wrapped in a hug. Several hugs. Ephemeral and light.
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Slowly, I began to stir, stretching out my limbs as sunbeams licked their way over my face, letting out a groan. My stomach let out a harsh rumble. Was it time to get up already? Another grumble sounded off. All right all right. I heard you the first time!
As my eyes began to open, I took stock of the room around me. Multiple bunks lined the walls, more than enough for all of us. Made me wonder why there was an air mattress in the first place. Still, they were all empty. What time was it exactly?
I reached for my pockets, only to remember that I hadn't changed last night, so I was still in the same dress. Great. So not only had I gone to sleep in dirty clothes, arguably, that meant my phone was missing … too?
Wait? Did this dress have pockets? A few moments of violent rustling procured a small device out of my pocket. Sweet! I'd have no idea what I'd do if I'd lost this. That was one problem solved, as I flipped to the clock.
Close to nine. A bit late, sure, but I could live with it. Food was first on the list of things my body wanted, but I didn't want to go out in unclean clothing. Tapping my foot as I thought, I spotted a small slip of white. I quickly grabbed it off the stand before reading it.
My eyes speed across the handwritten note. No way. No way. The plane cut in half and they still managed to recover our luggage! I mean, I'd expected everything in there to be a write-off, between the destruction and the gunfire. But I'll take having clothing. Finally, I can get into a pair of.
No. Absolutely not. Was this it? Was this SMSB that the internet kept talking about? Because instead of my combinations of jean shorts and t-shirts I'd packed for the warm Florida weather, I was meet by a variable sea of blue dresses.
If all my clothes had done this I was going to be beyond pissed! I took in a deep breath. Cloths could be replaced, this was no big deal. It took a few moments to replace the dress with a fresh one, but now came the handkerchief. When I'd awaken, it had been already tied.
This time, I'd have to do it myself. I glared at the piece of cloth for a moment. Part of me wanted to pitch the offending article of clothing into an incinerator. Reminded me far too much of a tie, to be frank, and those could go into an incinerator. The world would be a better place for it.
Ultimately, I consigned myself, beginning the arduous process of getting it properly tied into a knot and.
Oh my lord, this is actual witchcraft!
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Eggs? Check. Bacon? Check. Pancakes with copious amounts of butter? Check and check. Soon, my stomach shall be satiated. I plopped down in one of the many empty spots in the mess, placed my phone on the table, then began to inhale the mountain of food before me.
"You okay sis?" a voice interrupted my feeding frenzy, my head turning with a half-eaten pancake still partially hanging out of my mouth.
"Graff," I muttered, before swallowing the rest of the pancake. "Yes."
"Are you sure? You kind of seemed out of it last night," my younger brother gave me a look. One of those, you better not be trying to lie right now, sort of looks.
"I just needed some rest is all. Yesterday was a bit, rough," understatement of the century perhaps, but close enough. If he didn't have the full story, causing any more panic would be terrible. My phone let out a violent buzz, but I was more willing to return to my meal than worry about it. Texts could wait.
"That's good to hear," a familiar voice came from behind the pile of food before me. I popped my head from behind the piece of makeshift cover, grinning as my suspicions were confirmed.
"South Dakota!" I beamed at the younger but larger battleship as she sat directly across from my position.
"Kathrine, I'm glad to hear you're feeling better after last night," she smiled back, though her eyes flickered to my phone as it vibrated once again. I avoided sending the piece of technology a glare. It could, in fact, wait.
"Much better. Sleep helped," my smile turned a bit melancholic. I'd dreamed last night, hadn't I? I could only remember something warm and comforting.
Another vigorous vibration broke me out of my thoughts, and this time I did glare at the device. Before it just began to vibrate more and more, until it was about to fall off the table.
"Someone seems popular this morning," South Dakota had a slight smirk on her face. Okay yeah, I can't ignore this.
"Sorry, this usually doesn't happen," I stammered, a slight flush to my cheeks. Okay, what was going on, and what was so important that it was about to knock my phone off the table! I began flipping through each text, my confusion growing swiftly.
"She's not wrong you know," normally, I would fire back at my brother's sass, but I was preoccupied. Okay, just what was going on here? Well wishes were nice, especially after yesterday. But why? Sure, the word could have gotten out about the airplane being forced to the ground and that's what they were worried about. Though that would require one of my friends being able to track the flight, find out what happened, then told everyone else. In that case, fair enough.
I began to chew lightly on the inside of my lip. That wasn't as unlikely as I'd care to admit. Between Jacob and Keith, it was possible. I mean, I didn't think they'd do something as potentially stupid as that, but Kieth could be, impulsive. The weight pressing down on the bottom of my gut was a sign that wasn't the case.
Another text came in, and I barely avoided letting mortified strangling noise heat skyrocketing across my face.
"Are you alright?" Joseph and Dakota asked nearly at once.
"Yeah, it's just Keith being Keith," South Dakota raised an eyebrow at my proclamation, while Joseph just nodded his head. Come on, really? Keith, you really need to start thinking before you say things. Because saying 'how does it feel getting carried into port by a bronze amazon before mentioning anything else?
After sending a flurry of 'I'm fine, thanks for asking', one being particularly snide aimed at Keith, I finally put down my phone.
"I don't mean to pry, but what was that all about?" Dakota's face was now marred with a frown.
I sighed, "Just a few friends sending get well soon and best wishes. Nothing major."
That only made her frown grow, and just as she was about to open her mouth, my phone once again started its merry little dance. This time, she was the one to send a glare, as I rolled my eyes. I blinked. Then I pinched myself. No, this wasn't still a dream. But this? This was crazy.
"I just got a text from the governor of Kansas."
Joseph stared at me, jaw starting to slack open. South Dakota was in a similar state of shock, though appeared to recover faster.
"Kidd! Remote! Now!" she shouted towards another end of the nearly empty mess, with a few seconds later a black remote tumbling through the air. South Dakota grabbed it mid-spin, plucking it out of the air with ease, before hitting one of the buttons near the top.
One of the televisions flared to life, taking me slightly by surprise. After a flicker and a stutter, the picture finally cleared, a news anchor speaking.
"Continuing from our top story yesterday, of the unknown shipgirl brought back into port by South Dakota, Washington, and their escorts," I was more interested in the picture on the screen. You couldn't make out much of my face, but it was undeniably me. I hadn't felt good after the bombs and the gunfire, but I didn't know I looked that bad.
The picture had been taken at a distance, but I could easily track the numerous cuts and burns from shells, turning most of my arms and visible chest into a scared blackened mass. Which was on display for just about everyone to see as I was carried between the two battleships, each locking my arm in place over their shoulders as I was dragged along. Then there were my two stumpy limbs. My foot was in the state I'd expected, but my hand? It had taken off more than just a part of my hand. A significant portion of my arm was gone like it ever existed at all. Everything below the elbow? Poof, gone.
"Damn," my brother's face had turned to the screen, seeming to struggle for words. Me looking like shit would be the most appropriate phrase. Maybe a bit lacking in tact, but accurate.
"I felt bad, but I didn't know I looked at awful," I muttered, though everyone around could still pick up what I said perfectly.
"To be fair, I've seen worse cases. But you weren't in good shape by any stretch of the imagination," Dakota's face did a weird thing, something between a shrug and a scowl? I couldn't quite describe it.
Joseph's head whipped between the two of us rapidly. "I'm not sure how that's supposed to get worse than that! Kathrine, I know your pain tolerance can alone be described with the word bullshit after the time you broke your tailbone, but this is insane!"
"While the identity of this new shipgirl remains unknown at this time, anonymous sources on the internet claim she is Kathrine Williams, from the state of Kansas."
At that moment, the table nearly shattered under South Dakota's grip, cracks spiderwebbing across the metal. Joseph, bless his heart, feel completely out of his seat as I barely managed to rescue my phone and unfinished meal. Still not done eating, even if that was likely going to be sufficiently delayed.
"This should be taken with a grain of salt however as it is only a rumor," whatever else they had to say, I just ignored it. In part because Dakota was now breathing in and out quite heavily. Maybe some type of breathing exercise?
It was becoming apparent that someone, somewhere, had done something beyond stupid. I'm not sure what laws and protocols were being broken here, but it probably a significant number.
"Any idea who could have released such information?" South Dakota appeared to be trying her best to keep the anger out of her voice but was failing.
"Don't look at me. I don't have a computer and it sounded like saying anything about this right now was ill-advised," Joseph raised his hands in surrender, as I frowned. Keith was impulsive. Incredibly so. But I doubted he could be that impulsive. And stupid. He would have lead with something like 'how does it feel to be a ship?' or something dumb like that. Quite frankly, nobody else was that particle combination, either, so. Yeah.
"I got nothing," I shrugged. Still, it had to be someone. Problems didn't just spawn out of the aether!
"Well, it could be," Joseph started, and I could almost see the wicked lightbulb blinking above his head.
"No. Absolutely not. I refuse to accept that," I crossed my arms, sending him the strongest glare I could muster.
"But the two of you are so cute together!" he cackled, eyes twinkling.
"I gave him a complex after I broke his nose!" I fired back.
"Didn't he ask to the prom, like what? Three times?" Joseph teased, teased! Me, a battleship! I'd get him for this. "You looked like you were about to kick him in the balls!"
"The world would have thanked me. Because yes, as it turns out, people don't like dating douches, who would have thought," I scowled, crossing my arms.
"Pardon me, but who exactly are you talking about," South Dakota looked between the two of us.
"Jeff."
"Jefferson."
South Dakota looked between the two of us as if she was expecting more information. I thought, okay, yeah. She wouldn't know.
"He's a bully who never quite grew up and got a bit attached when I broke his nose. He's an asshole. There's not much more to tell," I scowled. That wasn't everything. But quite frankly, saying I'd had to put up with two lifetimes of his crap wouldn't make sense under normal circumstances.
"Yeah. From what I heard, it started with dunking your head underwater, then escalated with you breaking his nose," Joseph's words caused South Dakota to flinch.
"I can see why you don't like him," she nodded. "Still that's not much to go off of, assuming he leaked the information at all. Which might be the case."
"Yeah. Joseph, we both know he's not the sharpest tool in the shed. I doubt he's behind something like this," I frowned, as Joeseph let out a snort of amusement.
"Hey, I'm the idea guy," he placed his arms behind his head. My eyes couldn't be rolling harder. What was your grade point average again?
"Regardless, I should probably inform the Admiral of this, provided he doesn't already know," South Dakota began to stand up, before pausing. "Oh, and Kathrine?"
I looked back up at her, about to return to my shoveling of food into my gullet. "Yes?"
"The Admiral would like to see you once you've finished with breakfast."
"Yes Ma'am," I nodded, sending her a grin. I'd head that way the moment I finished. Maybe with a stop to clean up my face. Probably to clean up my face. I waited for her to exit the mess before I began stuffing food back into my mouth. Hey, it was slightly cooler now, but bacon was still bacon. And bacon was good.
"Are you seriously going to eat all of that?"
"I'mf hngy! Dn jdg me!"
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There were simply moments in life where one just wanted to put their heads through a wall. Certainly not the healthiest of impulses, to be sure. He thought he'd managed to at least stop the fan from being bogged down with all sorts of waste. But no. This was beginning to look like one of those situations. The one where you see the light at the end of the tunnel and expect sunlight. Instead, it's a train and it's heading right for you.
Well, the cat was out of the bag now, and someone else had already found it. Sure, most news networks acted like this wasn't confirmed information, but with so many winks and nudges, it didn't matter. Quite frankly, he had no idea what would happen for releasing that information. Releasing information like that during wartime. Sure, in Kansas there likely weren't issue, but there had been attacks made by deranged individuals in the past.
Sure, a new shipgirl joining the fray was good for PR, under normal circumstances. However, Kathrine was introduced to the world looking like she just lost a fight. On top of being underage. She never should have been near that fight at all.
"Admiral Kenneth," South Dakota interrupted his thoughts, resulting in him turning around to face her. She paused for a moment. "I'm going to assume you've heard the news?"
"Yes. I'm safe to guess that Kathrine is presently aware of this development?" South Dakota nodded. Okay, that wasn't awful. Maybe. Public relations was not his specialty by any means. "And how is she doing this morning?"
"She's acting a lot better," South Dakota nodded, as he let out a sigh of relief. "I made sure to deliver your message as well, Sir. Katherine should be here once she is done eating."
"That's good to hear," after last night, that was good news indeed. On both fronts. Food was necessary for a growing battleship, after all.
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I had taken a momentary detour to brush my teeth. There was no sense in showing the Admiral my pancake stained teeth. Plus, I hadn't done it last night, either. No sense in showering him in my bad breath, either. But once I finished, I quickly made my way to the office.
"You must be Kathrine," there was a lady behind one of the desks.
"Yes? I blinked, being taken aback slightly. I didn't know he had a divided office like this.
"You can go right in. Admiral Kenneth has been expecting you."
Oh, so that was his name.
"Thank you, ma'am," I nodded, before stepping towards the massive doors. They looked pretty heavy. I gripped the knob, swinging it open. There were a groan and a pop as the door swung open.
Now I'm holding the door. I'm holding the oh.
"I'm so sorry I'm so sorry I'm so sorry," my words slurred together into a single sentence. What do I do? How do I fix this?
"Kathrine, it's quite fine. It's designed to do that. Just leave it against the frame for the time being."
Oh. I blushed, looking down at my feet. This was a lot worse than the time I tour off one of the cabinet doors at home during my first life. Designed that way or not.
"Please, take a seat," he gestured towards the empty chair between both my parents, who were now staring at me, slack-jawed.
"Yes sir," I moved into the middle chair, one that appeared to have a metal frame.
"You don't need to call me sir," he chuckled. "You aren't quite enlisted yet." I blinked. This wasn't what I had expected.
"Yes, Admiral," I responded, with a slight grin of my own. He raised an eyebrow, almost a sort of well played. A distinctive short reached my ears a moment later.
"Before we continue," Admiral Kenneth's expression went from more upbeat to something sour. "Kathrine, I would like to extend my humblest apologies for what I said last night. It is something I know some shipgirls have a hard time with, and I wasn't thinking." A chill ran down my spine. The memories had become a lot more vivid, but I shoved them aside. That was the past. It wasn't going to happen again.
"Apology accepted, Admiral, I just needed a good night's rest is all," I met his gaze as he spent a moment, studying my expression, before nodding.
"Very well. As I was telling your parents, one of the things a shipgirl must contend with is their strength," his none too subtle gesture to the door brings out another flush of heat. "A shipgirl can do anything a ship is capable of, while in a human body. What a ship could tow, a shipgirl can move the same amount of weight, alongside supporting their own."
"Wait. Does that mean our daughter?" my dad raised an eyebrow.
"Likely currently weights around eighteen thousand tons?"
The statement hung in the air. Alright. That sounded like pure magical crap right there. But strangely, it made sense? I mean, I was a ship now. But that would raise some serious complications when it came to travel. I don't think many planes, on top of their regular load, could carry that much additional weight.
"Then how is that chair supporting her?" on that note, excellent question mom. Why was this chair able to hold all that weight?
"One of the repair ships designed it to support new shipgirl's who can't control their displacement without going through hundreds of chairs a week. It doesn't work for some of the larger battleships, but," yeah yeah, I get it. Puny pre-dreadnaught over here. Oh well. I'll take being able to sit down.
"So, I'm able to control my weight?" I paused, turning my head slightly.
"It's more akin to flipping between human and ship than anything one can manipulate," I nodded, rubbing my hand under my chin, stroking a non-existent beard. Okay, again, that made sense. Redeploying shipgirls would become a monstrous hassle, otherwise. There was still the Panama canal, but why spend the effort when you can just put someone on a plane?
"We'll be working on that in the coming days. You are here on vacation after all, and even if you can't be there for all of it, you deserve some time off. Before you're officially enlisted, of course."
I nodded my head in thanks. Sure, I was going to need new clothes, because walking around in my shipgirl clothes off duty would feel a bit weird.
"Second is that other Admirals have approved work to start on a retrofit design," his words were music to my ears, a grin twitching its way to life across my face. A weight pressed against my back, my father, seemingly quite pleased. "However, a proper design will take time, and even if one were to be rapidly developed, I lack the resources and technicians to perform such an operation at this base."
That's the problem? I hadn't expected an immediate miracle on that front. Designing a retrofit for a ship that never had a major one, let alone one that would allow me to fight? It would take time, and I was fine with that.
"On that front, I do have some good news. It might not be much, but I currently have permission to replace some of your armaments."
"Really?" I blinked, sounding quite a bit too good to be true. Wouldn't that make more sense to include as part of the retrofit? I mean, I wouldn't say no to having guns that worked against planes, but still.
"Quite. With your parent's permission, we can get started immediately."
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Perfectly honest, there were quite a few things that never quite made sense to me. Repair ships could upgrade and apply retrofits to shipgirls, that made sense. However, given the size of each fleet, there clearly weren't enough repair ships to go around. Even if the United States had summoned every single one, a doubtful prospect, that would put our Navy at around twenty or so, depending on how one counted.
With everyone else being worse off. Britain had maybe a dozen, maximum. Even Japan, with their single Akashi, beat out several other navy's, including Germany. Which meant someone, somewhere, had to figure out a way to perform such critical work, without relying on a repair ship.
Naturally, this was a fiercely debated topic on the internet, to nobody's surprise. I'd heard all sorts of insane conspiracies, from kidnapping Abyssal equivalents, holding them hostage and forcing them to do the work, which sounded just as stupid as it was, to all the way to somehow turning fairies into humans.
While a bit more hush hush than one might expect, the answer was straightforward, simple, and boring. Shipgirl magic, and precision tools. That's it. It was almost disappointing after all that hype. But I couldn't complain too much.
I winced slightly. Okay, maybe I could complain a little. Popping some pain medicine before they started work sounded like a good idea. And it was. But it either hadn't kicked in yet or wasn't doing its job. Given how it had been an hour, it was probably the latter of the two.
"And there we go," one of the engineers said, placing the last of the new five inch-guns into its proper place, anchoring itself to my hull. A few heys singled out from my crew, staring at the new weapons with stars in their eyes.
Hey! No! I see you there! Read the manual before messing around with the bofor, mister! Don't try pointing it around!
I chuckled. Despite my childing them, I could understand my crew's excitement. Sure, most of the bofors were doubles, rather than quads, but the five-inch guns? Dual purpose, good for ship to ship combat and driving away air attacks. Now I wasn't a complete sitting duck to any carrier with a brain cell and a pulse.
"You seem quite pleased, Kathrine," there was a slight curve to Admiral Kenneth's mouth. Not quite a grin.
"Quite, Admiral," I returned, beaming. My feet shifted below me. It was a familiar feeling. Like before, on the beach. I wanted to fight. Take these new guns out and see what they could do! Let's go!
"Very well. I think a systems test is in order. And I can think of the perfect place to practice."
By this point, I was ready to call it a day. Throw in the towel, get some rest, and be ready for tomorrow. Which is exactly what I ended up doing. After a brief escort to the room we were staying in, I just flopped onto the inflatable mattress and closed my eyes.
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Something felt warm. Pleasant. Nice.
There was a voice. It felt like was being wrapped in a hug. Several hugs. Ephemeral and light.
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Slowly, I began to stir, stretching out my limbs as sunbeams licked their way over my face, letting out a groan. My stomach let out a harsh rumble. Was it time to get up already? Another grumble sounded off. All right all right. I heard you the first time!
As my eyes began to open, I took stock of the room around me. Multiple bunks lined the walls, more than enough for all of us. Made me wonder why there was an air mattress in the first place. Still, they were all empty. What time was it exactly?
I reached for my pockets, only to remember that I hadn't changed last night, so I was still in the same dress. Great. So not only had I gone to sleep in dirty clothes, arguably, that meant my phone was missing … too?
Wait? Did this dress have pockets? A few moments of violent rustling procured a small device out of my pocket. Sweet! I'd have no idea what I'd do if I'd lost this. That was one problem solved, as I flipped to the clock.
Close to nine. A bit late, sure, but I could live with it. Food was first on the list of things my body wanted, but I didn't want to go out in unclean clothing. Tapping my foot as I thought, I spotted a small slip of white. I quickly grabbed it off the stand before reading it.
My eyes speed across the handwritten note. No way. No way. The plane cut in half and they still managed to recover our luggage! I mean, I'd expected everything in there to be a write-off, between the destruction and the gunfire. But I'll take having clothing. Finally, I can get into a pair of.
No. Absolutely not. Was this it? Was this SMSB that the internet kept talking about? Because instead of my combinations of jean shorts and t-shirts I'd packed for the warm Florida weather, I was meet by a variable sea of blue dresses.
If all my clothes had done this I was going to be beyond pissed! I took in a deep breath. Cloths could be replaced, this was no big deal. It took a few moments to replace the dress with a fresh one, but now came the handkerchief. When I'd awaken, it had been already tied.
This time, I'd have to do it myself. I glared at the piece of cloth for a moment. Part of me wanted to pitch the offending article of clothing into an incinerator. Reminded me far too much of a tie, to be frank, and those could go into an incinerator. The world would be a better place for it.
Ultimately, I consigned myself, beginning the arduous process of getting it properly tied into a knot and.
Oh my lord, this is actual witchcraft!
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Eggs? Check. Bacon? Check. Pancakes with copious amounts of butter? Check and check. Soon, my stomach shall be satiated. I plopped down in one of the many empty spots in the mess, placed my phone on the table, then began to inhale the mountain of food before me.
"You okay sis?" a voice interrupted my feeding frenzy, my head turning with a half-eaten pancake still partially hanging out of my mouth.
"Graff," I muttered, before swallowing the rest of the pancake. "Yes."
"Are you sure? You kind of seemed out of it last night," my younger brother gave me a look. One of those, you better not be trying to lie right now, sort of looks.
"I just needed some rest is all. Yesterday was a bit, rough," understatement of the century perhaps, but close enough. If he didn't have the full story, causing any more panic would be terrible. My phone let out a violent buzz, but I was more willing to return to my meal than worry about it. Texts could wait.
"That's good to hear," a familiar voice came from behind the pile of food before me. I popped my head from behind the piece of makeshift cover, grinning as my suspicions were confirmed.
"South Dakota!" I beamed at the younger but larger battleship as she sat directly across from my position.
"Kathrine, I'm glad to hear you're feeling better after last night," she smiled back, though her eyes flickered to my phone as it vibrated once again. I avoided sending the piece of technology a glare. It could, in fact, wait.
"Much better. Sleep helped," my smile turned a bit melancholic. I'd dreamed last night, hadn't I? I could only remember something warm and comforting.
Another vigorous vibration broke me out of my thoughts, and this time I did glare at the device. Before it just began to vibrate more and more, until it was about to fall off the table.
"Someone seems popular this morning," South Dakota had a slight smirk on her face. Okay yeah, I can't ignore this.
"Sorry, this usually doesn't happen," I stammered, a slight flush to my cheeks. Okay, what was going on, and what was so important that it was about to knock my phone off the table! I began flipping through each text, my confusion growing swiftly.
"She's not wrong you know," normally, I would fire back at my brother's sass, but I was preoccupied. Okay, just what was going on here? Well wishes were nice, especially after yesterday. But why? Sure, the word could have gotten out about the airplane being forced to the ground and that's what they were worried about. Though that would require one of my friends being able to track the flight, find out what happened, then told everyone else. In that case, fair enough.
I began to chew lightly on the inside of my lip. That wasn't as unlikely as I'd care to admit. Between Jacob and Keith, it was possible. I mean, I didn't think they'd do something as potentially stupid as that, but Kieth could be, impulsive. The weight pressing down on the bottom of my gut was a sign that wasn't the case.
Another text came in, and I barely avoided letting mortified strangling noise heat skyrocketing across my face.
"Are you alright?" Joseph and Dakota asked nearly at once.
"Yeah, it's just Keith being Keith," South Dakota raised an eyebrow at my proclamation, while Joseph just nodded his head. Come on, really? Keith, you really need to start thinking before you say things. Because saying 'how does it feel getting carried into port by a bronze amazon before mentioning anything else?
After sending a flurry of 'I'm fine, thanks for asking', one being particularly snide aimed at Keith, I finally put down my phone.
"I don't mean to pry, but what was that all about?" Dakota's face was now marred with a frown.
I sighed, "Just a few friends sending get well soon and best wishes. Nothing major."
That only made her frown grow, and just as she was about to open her mouth, my phone once again started its merry little dance. This time, she was the one to send a glare, as I rolled my eyes. I blinked. Then I pinched myself. No, this wasn't still a dream. But this? This was crazy.
"I just got a text from the governor of Kansas."
Joseph stared at me, jaw starting to slack open. South Dakota was in a similar state of shock, though appeared to recover faster.
"Kidd! Remote! Now!" she shouted towards another end of the nearly empty mess, with a few seconds later a black remote tumbling through the air. South Dakota grabbed it mid-spin, plucking it out of the air with ease, before hitting one of the buttons near the top.
One of the televisions flared to life, taking me slightly by surprise. After a flicker and a stutter, the picture finally cleared, a news anchor speaking.
"Continuing from our top story yesterday, of the unknown shipgirl brought back into port by South Dakota, Washington, and their escorts," I was more interested in the picture on the screen. You couldn't make out much of my face, but it was undeniably me. I hadn't felt good after the bombs and the gunfire, but I didn't know I looked that bad.
The picture had been taken at a distance, but I could easily track the numerous cuts and burns from shells, turning most of my arms and visible chest into a scared blackened mass. Which was on display for just about everyone to see as I was carried between the two battleships, each locking my arm in place over their shoulders as I was dragged along. Then there were my two stumpy limbs. My foot was in the state I'd expected, but my hand? It had taken off more than just a part of my hand. A significant portion of my arm was gone like it ever existed at all. Everything below the elbow? Poof, gone.
"Damn," my brother's face had turned to the screen, seeming to struggle for words. Me looking like shit would be the most appropriate phrase. Maybe a bit lacking in tact, but accurate.
"I felt bad, but I didn't know I looked at awful," I muttered, though everyone around could still pick up what I said perfectly.
"To be fair, I've seen worse cases. But you weren't in good shape by any stretch of the imagination," Dakota's face did a weird thing, something between a shrug and a scowl? I couldn't quite describe it.
Joseph's head whipped between the two of us rapidly. "I'm not sure how that's supposed to get worse than that! Kathrine, I know your pain tolerance can alone be described with the word bullshit after the time you broke your tailbone, but this is insane!"
"While the identity of this new shipgirl remains unknown at this time, anonymous sources on the internet claim she is Kathrine Williams, from the state of Kansas."
At that moment, the table nearly shattered under South Dakota's grip, cracks spiderwebbing across the metal. Joseph, bless his heart, feel completely out of his seat as I barely managed to rescue my phone and unfinished meal. Still not done eating, even if that was likely going to be sufficiently delayed.
"This should be taken with a grain of salt however as it is only a rumor," whatever else they had to say, I just ignored it. In part because Dakota was now breathing in and out quite heavily. Maybe some type of breathing exercise?
It was becoming apparent that someone, somewhere, had done something beyond stupid. I'm not sure what laws and protocols were being broken here, but it probably a significant number.
"Any idea who could have released such information?" South Dakota appeared to be trying her best to keep the anger out of her voice but was failing.
"Don't look at me. I don't have a computer and it sounded like saying anything about this right now was ill-advised," Joseph raised his hands in surrender, as I frowned. Keith was impulsive. Incredibly so. But I doubted he could be that impulsive. And stupid. He would have lead with something like 'how does it feel to be a ship?' or something dumb like that. Quite frankly, nobody else was that particle combination, either, so. Yeah.
"I got nothing," I shrugged. Still, it had to be someone. Problems didn't just spawn out of the aether!
"Well, it could be," Joseph started, and I could almost see the wicked lightbulb blinking above his head.
"No. Absolutely not. I refuse to accept that," I crossed my arms, sending him the strongest glare I could muster.
"But the two of you are so cute together!" he cackled, eyes twinkling.
"I gave him a complex after I broke his nose!" I fired back.
"Didn't he ask to the prom, like what? Three times?" Joseph teased, teased! Me, a battleship! I'd get him for this. "You looked like you were about to kick him in the balls!"
"The world would have thanked me. Because yes, as it turns out, people don't like dating douches, who would have thought," I scowled, crossing my arms.
"Pardon me, but who exactly are you talking about," South Dakota looked between the two of us.
"Jeff."
"Jefferson."
South Dakota looked between the two of us as if she was expecting more information. I thought, okay, yeah. She wouldn't know.
"He's a bully who never quite grew up and got a bit attached when I broke his nose. He's an asshole. There's not much more to tell," I scowled. That wasn't everything. But quite frankly, saying I'd had to put up with two lifetimes of his crap wouldn't make sense under normal circumstances.
"Yeah. From what I heard, it started with dunking your head underwater, then escalated with you breaking his nose," Joseph's words caused South Dakota to flinch.
"I can see why you don't like him," she nodded. "Still that's not much to go off of, assuming he leaked the information at all. Which might be the case."
"Yeah. Joseph, we both know he's not the sharpest tool in the shed. I doubt he's behind something like this," I frowned, as Joeseph let out a snort of amusement.
"Hey, I'm the idea guy," he placed his arms behind his head. My eyes couldn't be rolling harder. What was your grade point average again?
"Regardless, I should probably inform the Admiral of this, provided he doesn't already know," South Dakota began to stand up, before pausing. "Oh, and Kathrine?"
I looked back up at her, about to return to my shoveling of food into my gullet. "Yes?"
"The Admiral would like to see you once you've finished with breakfast."
"Yes Ma'am," I nodded, sending her a grin. I'd head that way the moment I finished. Maybe with a stop to clean up my face. Probably to clean up my face. I waited for her to exit the mess before I began stuffing food back into my mouth. Hey, it was slightly cooler now, but bacon was still bacon. And bacon was good.
"Are you seriously going to eat all of that?"
"I'mf hngy! Dn jdg me!"
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There were simply moments in life where one just wanted to put their heads through a wall. Certainly not the healthiest of impulses, to be sure. He thought he'd managed to at least stop the fan from being bogged down with all sorts of waste. But no. This was beginning to look like one of those situations. The one where you see the light at the end of the tunnel and expect sunlight. Instead, it's a train and it's heading right for you.
Well, the cat was out of the bag now, and someone else had already found it. Sure, most news networks acted like this wasn't confirmed information, but with so many winks and nudges, it didn't matter. Quite frankly, he had no idea what would happen for releasing that information. Releasing information like that during wartime. Sure, in Kansas there likely weren't issue, but there had been attacks made by deranged individuals in the past.
Sure, a new shipgirl joining the fray was good for PR, under normal circumstances. However, Kathrine was introduced to the world looking like she just lost a fight. On top of being underage. She never should have been near that fight at all.
"Admiral Kenneth," South Dakota interrupted his thoughts, resulting in him turning around to face her. She paused for a moment. "I'm going to assume you've heard the news?"
"Yes. I'm safe to guess that Kathrine is presently aware of this development?" South Dakota nodded. Okay, that wasn't awful. Maybe. Public relations was not his specialty by any means. "And how is she doing this morning?"
"She's acting a lot better," South Dakota nodded, as he let out a sigh of relief. "I made sure to deliver your message as well, Sir. Katherine should be here once she is done eating."
"That's good to hear," after last night, that was good news indeed. On both fronts. Food was necessary for a growing battleship, after all.
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I had taken a momentary detour to brush my teeth. There was no sense in showing the Admiral my pancake stained teeth. Plus, I hadn't done it last night, either. No sense in showering him in my bad breath, either. But once I finished, I quickly made my way to the office.
"You must be Kathrine," there was a lady behind one of the desks.
"Yes? I blinked, being taken aback slightly. I didn't know he had a divided office like this.
"You can go right in. Admiral Kenneth has been expecting you."
Oh, so that was his name.
"Thank you, ma'am," I nodded, before stepping towards the massive doors. They looked pretty heavy. I gripped the knob, swinging it open. There were a groan and a pop as the door swung open.
Now I'm holding the door. I'm holding the oh.
"I'm so sorry I'm so sorry I'm so sorry," my words slurred together into a single sentence. What do I do? How do I fix this?
"Kathrine, it's quite fine. It's designed to do that. Just leave it against the frame for the time being."
Oh. I blushed, looking down at my feet. This was a lot worse than the time I tour off one of the cabinet doors at home during my first life. Designed that way or not.
"Please, take a seat," he gestured towards the empty chair between both my parents, who were now staring at me, slack-jawed.
"Yes sir," I moved into the middle chair, one that appeared to have a metal frame.
"You don't need to call me sir," he chuckled. "You aren't quite enlisted yet." I blinked. This wasn't what I had expected.
"Yes, Admiral," I responded, with a slight grin of my own. He raised an eyebrow, almost a sort of well played. A distinctive short reached my ears a moment later.
"Before we continue," Admiral Kenneth's expression went from more upbeat to something sour. "Kathrine, I would like to extend my humblest apologies for what I said last night. It is something I know some shipgirls have a hard time with, and I wasn't thinking." A chill ran down my spine. The memories had become a lot more vivid, but I shoved them aside. That was the past. It wasn't going to happen again.
"Apology accepted, Admiral, I just needed a good night's rest is all," I met his gaze as he spent a moment, studying my expression, before nodding.
"Very well. As I was telling your parents, one of the things a shipgirl must contend with is their strength," his none too subtle gesture to the door brings out another flush of heat. "A shipgirl can do anything a ship is capable of, while in a human body. What a ship could tow, a shipgirl can move the same amount of weight, alongside supporting their own."
"Wait. Does that mean our daughter?" my dad raised an eyebrow.
"Likely currently weights around eighteen thousand tons?"
The statement hung in the air. Alright. That sounded like pure magical crap right there. But strangely, it made sense? I mean, I was a ship now. But that would raise some serious complications when it came to travel. I don't think many planes, on top of their regular load, could carry that much additional weight.
"Then how is that chair supporting her?" on that note, excellent question mom. Why was this chair able to hold all that weight?
"One of the repair ships designed it to support new shipgirl's who can't control their displacement without going through hundreds of chairs a week. It doesn't work for some of the larger battleships, but," yeah yeah, I get it. Puny pre-dreadnaught over here. Oh well. I'll take being able to sit down.
"So, I'm able to control my weight?" I paused, turning my head slightly.
"It's more akin to flipping between human and ship than anything one can manipulate," I nodded, rubbing my hand under my chin, stroking a non-existent beard. Okay, again, that made sense. Redeploying shipgirls would become a monstrous hassle, otherwise. There was still the Panama canal, but why spend the effort when you can just put someone on a plane?
"We'll be working on that in the coming days. You are here on vacation after all, and even if you can't be there for all of it, you deserve some time off. Before you're officially enlisted, of course."
I nodded my head in thanks. Sure, I was going to need new clothes, because walking around in my shipgirl clothes off duty would feel a bit weird.
"Second is that other Admirals have approved work to start on a retrofit design," his words were music to my ears, a grin twitching its way to life across my face. A weight pressed against my back, my father, seemingly quite pleased. "However, a proper design will take time, and even if one were to be rapidly developed, I lack the resources and technicians to perform such an operation at this base."
That's the problem? I hadn't expected an immediate miracle on that front. Designing a retrofit for a ship that never had a major one, let alone one that would allow me to fight? It would take time, and I was fine with that.
"On that front, I do have some good news. It might not be much, but I currently have permission to replace some of your armaments."
"Really?" I blinked, sounding quite a bit too good to be true. Wouldn't that make more sense to include as part of the retrofit? I mean, I wouldn't say no to having guns that worked against planes, but still.
"Quite. With your parent's permission, we can get started immediately."
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Perfectly honest, there were quite a few things that never quite made sense to me. Repair ships could upgrade and apply retrofits to shipgirls, that made sense. However, given the size of each fleet, there clearly weren't enough repair ships to go around. Even if the United States had summoned every single one, a doubtful prospect, that would put our Navy at around twenty or so, depending on how one counted.
With everyone else being worse off. Britain had maybe a dozen, maximum. Even Japan, with their single Akashi, beat out several other navy's, including Germany. Which meant someone, somewhere, had to figure out a way to perform such critical work, without relying on a repair ship.
Naturally, this was a fiercely debated topic on the internet, to nobody's surprise. I'd heard all sorts of insane conspiracies, from kidnapping Abyssal equivalents, holding them hostage and forcing them to do the work, which sounded just as stupid as it was, to all the way to somehow turning fairies into humans.
While a bit more hush hush than one might expect, the answer was straightforward, simple, and boring. Shipgirl magic, and precision tools. That's it. It was almost disappointing after all that hype. But I couldn't complain too much.
I winced slightly. Okay, maybe I could complain a little. Popping some pain medicine before they started work sounded like a good idea. And it was. But it either hadn't kicked in yet or wasn't doing its job. Given how it had been an hour, it was probably the latter of the two.
"And there we go," one of the engineers said, placing the last of the new five inch-guns into its proper place, anchoring itself to my hull. A few heys singled out from my crew, staring at the new weapons with stars in their eyes.
Hey! No! I see you there! Read the manual before messing around with the bofor, mister! Don't try pointing it around!
I chuckled. Despite my childing them, I could understand my crew's excitement. Sure, most of the bofors were doubles, rather than quads, but the five-inch guns? Dual purpose, good for ship to ship combat and driving away air attacks. Now I wasn't a complete sitting duck to any carrier with a brain cell and a pulse.
"You seem quite pleased, Kathrine," there was a slight curve to Admiral Kenneth's mouth. Not quite a grin.
"Quite, Admiral," I returned, beaming. My feet shifted below me. It was a familiar feeling. Like before, on the beach. I wanted to fight. Take these new guns out and see what they could do! Let's go!
"Very well. I think a systems test is in order. And I can think of the perfect place to practice."
Chapter 6
I blinked once. I blinked twice. This made much more sense than practicing with live rounds or even blanks, but still. Really? This worked?
I continued to stare, completely flabbergasted at my crew, as they loaded the paintball rounds into my hull. There were even paint load torpedos I could stock up on, even though I was told not to. No point practicing with them given how my torpedo tubes were going to be plugged up. A shame. I'd scored a kill with those things, against all odds. As I found out later, they'd been damaged when I jumped out of the plane, too, meaning I actually could do more to aim them normally.
"How exactly, do these paintball rounds handle being fired out of a canon?" I wondered around, eyes turning toward Admiral Kenneth. He honest to goodness shrugged in response. So, SMSB strikes again. It already pilfered the clothes I brought. And it better not have taken what I had at home too. The thought of losing all my shirts and pants? Parish it.
And if it had? Well, Johnson was a lunatic of the highest order, but he was right about life and what one should do with lemons. But that was, well, a problem to be solved in the future, if it ever became a problem at all.
"Hey, hey hey hey," one of my fairies, my captain started speaking. They'd loaded up on everything, and of course, prepared the new dummy rounds. I nodded, doing my best to convey my satisfaction, though I didn't respond with words. I wasn't exactly sure how I felt talking to them yet, let alone in front of other people.
Of course, I wasn't sure how I felt about them living inside me, either. Well, my feelings, one way or another, probably didn't matter. We were going to be together, after all, so being on good terms with my crew was, well, the natural thing.
"I'm completely loaded, sir," I saluted, probably incorrectly, if my father's distant snort was anything to go by.
"Very well," Admiral Kenneth nodded. "I do believe the training course would be next."
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The smell of salt filled my nose, as did the lapping of the waves in my ears. This was nice, floating in the water, relaxing.
Not being shot at or have bombs dropped on me. An absolute pleasant change of pace, though one I probably shouldn't get all that accustom to.
There was just one more preparation before I got to try out the firing range. Even if I couldn't practice with my new Bofors, my crew was still chomping at the bit to try the new five-inch guns.
"Sorry. We had to make sure this was waterproof," Admiral Kenneth handed me a headset, like one of those used by dispatchers. Because, yeah, morse code wasn't exactly the swiftest form of communication used these days. And sadly, a radio was probably only going to be coming along during the retrofit, alongside fire control and radar. Alongside the rest of the electrical systems. Whenever I was going to be getting those.
Which meant we were going to be eyeballing this. Oh well. My crew had no experience with more advanced technology anyway. And getting everyone retrained would likely be a long term endeavor. At least they could get some practice with the new five-inch batteries.
I headed out a little way. Not too far, but just far enough where I couldn't mistake whether or not Admiral Kenneth's voice come coming from the headset.
"Is everything functional, Katherine?" I heard him through the headset.
"I hear you loud and clear, sir," I responded, ignoring a slight twinge at the back of my mind. It's probably nothing.
"Good. See those targets?"
"Yes sir," I nodded, looking towards the mass of nets and targets. Some were simple floating bullseye, bobbing up and down in the water. However, more than a few of them were cut-outs of various Abyssal's. I'm pretty sure most of them weren't to scale, but regardless, that was a bit neet. Definitely would prefer hitting those over the simple bullseye.
"You can start running the course at your discretion."
"Yes sir," I paused a moment, getting all green lights across the board, making sure the paintball rounds were loaded, before making my way towards the start. Then my casement and five-inch guns cracked to life, releasing a deluge of shells in a rippling wave. Most of my shots missed, water erupting around the target like geysers, but a few hit home, covering it in variable splotches of paint.
A target further away found itself under assault from my larger batteries, the twelve and eight-inch guns releasing their salvo's. Many more geysers followed though I could still make out a massive splattering of paint towards the base.
On my left, my crew was reporting another target, point-blank range. I turned my head, just to make sure I wouldn't miss, before firing, unleashing a full blast of everything I hadn't already fired. Five, seven, and eight-inch guns fired in unison, a devastating near full broadside. Even then, I had to wince. A few shots went wide even at such proximity.
All right, so what's my next target? I scanned the area, trying to find another victim, only to notice something. Rope, ahead! Turn now!
I felt my rudder shift, beginning to pull into a turn, but it was far too late for that. Even at my nearly glacial pace, I still slammed into the numerous nets that served as the boundaries of the training course. For a moment or two, I struggled, trying to use my shipgirl strength to at least spare myself from being manually freed, but fortune was not on my side.
Well. This stunk.
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For the second time in just as many days, it was South Dakota that came to my rescue. Of course, I was thankful it was under much less dangerous circumstances. Even if this was infinitely more embarrassing.
"And up you go," she pulled me up to my feet with nearly a bit too much force, though I managed to keep my balance. Barely.
"Thank you," I smiled, silently praying to somebody that I wasn't blushing like an idiot with a crush. "Though we must stop meeting like this." South Dakota paused, before letting a chuckle.
"Of course. I won't be able to keep saving you when you get transferred after all," I had to turn part of my face away because if I hadn't been blushing before, I certainly was now. "Though I don't think I've seen someone get caught in the net before."
"It jumped out at me," it was an excuse, and a poor one at that. It hadn't worked in my previous life, and it probably wasn't going to work now.
"More like you were too focused on your guns," South Dakota paused for a moment. "Though, seeing as you don't have any fire control systems."
She clicked her tongue, almost in thought. Did fire control make firing guns that much more simple? Or maybe it was more akin to just being more efficient? Micromanaging and all that?
"Okay, we should go a lap or two," wait, what? How did she arrive at that conclusion? I mean, sure, I might be multitasking a bit too much, but I failed to see how that would solve the problem. But it wouldn't hurt to try either.
"I'll take point. And don't worry. I won't go top speed, either. I'll make sure you can keep up," South Dakota teased, as a felt a bit of heat rise off my face. I don't know if it was because I was just about as fast as a turtle stapled to a tree, but I should be able to keep up here.
Even if the younger battleship nearly had ten knots on me at the best of times. It took but a moment for me to fall into position behind her, however, before resuming firing. I was jealous watching her bean the farthest targets with unerring accuracy, while I could maybe peg it with a shot per salvo from my main batteries.
If that. Seriously, I couldn't even hit the broadside of the barn like this. And god, turning properly in such a confined area was awful! I barely made the turn, even with cutting my speed to about half.
"Holding up okay?" Dakota turned her head towards me, as her secondaries slathered a target in paint. I felt my crew try to pick up the pace to match her own salvo's, though they were as used to the new equipment as I was to being a ship.
"I feel slower than a turtle stapled to a tree," my mouth twitched downward, nearly forming a scowl. At least my casements were proving accurate, but that was simply due to them lacking range. They couldn't hit the farther targets. No matter how much I'd like to try. Something told me that might become a problem.
"That's certainly an interesting phrase," she chuckled, my lips twitching up slightly, as I fired my main guns again, this time pegging my target with two shots.
Damn. World of Warships made this seem way easier than it actually was. Of course, that was probably the entire point.
"Not bad," South Dakota nodded. "You're improving." Part of me grinned at the bit of praise, though another claimed it was simply because I'd gotten closer. I certainly hoped it was the former, but improving that quickly? Probably either down to closing distance or luck.
I fired another salvo, hitting another two shots. Then again, maybe not.
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"Sorry, but my head is killing me right now," I whined, rubbing my temples as if felt like the inside of my brain was on fire.
Thankfully, Admiral Kenneth was merciful, relieving me after my second run through the course, this time by myself, saying that he would look into it. Though I suspected he already figured out the answer.
Probably a union of me being recently awakened, and the fact I had to pull out a mental protractor every time I wanted to fire my guns. The former was probably a common issue, but the latter? Based on what I knew, I was the oldest reincarnated to date. Combined with the fact if I remained in my original body I'd be probably most of the way through my thirties, if not outright pushing into my forties.
Wow. That's a freaking scary thought. If I factored in the year I'd spent in service as Kansas? I'd be pushing into the fifties and sixties.
I shook my head, throwing off the train of thought. Yeah, no. I already felt old enough some days. No need to make myself feel positively ancient.
Still, I would give an arm and a leg for pain medicine right now. Ironic, given yesterday, but I'd already popped in some earlier in the day to no avail, so I was dealing with it the old fashion way.
Or as it's otherwise called, being too stubborn for my own good. It was either that or stick my head into a repair bath to see if that did anything, but that just sounded dumb. Plus, there were still signals making their way through my inflamed frontal cortex. Chief among them pangs from my stomach. I wanted to eat an entire cow right now, and nobody was going to stop me.
"You sure seem grumbly today," I shot Joseph a dirty look. Something was up. His posture was off. No, off wasn't exactly the wrong term.
Smug. My brother looked smug. Not exactly the most uncommon expression on him some days.
"Of course I'm hungry. I went without lunch," I shrugged, though made sure to remain on guard. He was aware of something I was not. Either that or he'd found something embarrassing. Regardless, I wasn't taking chances. "I'm so hungry I could eat a horse."
"For once, I believe you. You look positively famished now, and that's after you nearly eat your weight at breakfast," I raised an eyebrow. Sure, I'd eaten quite a fair bit of eggs, bacon, and pancakes, but my weight? Joseph had to be exaggerating. Even if shipgirls tended to eat a lot, eating more than a hundred pounds of food in a single sitting?
That didn't seem right. That level of voracious appetite couldn't be natural.
"Though I don't think you'll have to worry about it," Joseph paused for a moment as I pushed open the door to the mess hall. I should have paused with him. Maybe it would have saved me. Perhaps not.
"Surprise!" I blinked, yes, partly because I was just that. Surprised. It looked as if every shipgirl on the base was there, with the tables set up as all you can eat buffets. Was this a party? For me?
"Now, go have fun," it was a gentle shove, which shouldn't have been anywhere near enough to move me anymore, let alone make me stumble forward through the door.
Help. Help. Help.
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Admiral Kenneth smiled, despite having his face buried in paperwork. It was good to know Kathrine was likely enjoying herself right now. Most of the shipgirls had planned to have the welcome party yesterday, but due to his actions, it had been postponed.
Of course, that had just given them more time to prepare. Though he had to make sure there was no alcohol. Kathrine, was, legally, still too young to drink. Even being a shipgirl wouldn't change that.
And something told him alcohol was going to be a future problem. Maybe not with Kathrine, but certainly with her sisters. Ultimately, at this point, it was only a matter of time before the other Connecticut class battleships were summoned. And likely their summoning would be the harbinger for the arrival of other pre-Dreadnaughts. He didn't know for sure, but he wouldn't be betting against himself.
That was part of the reason he was already putting Kathrine through training. He needed to have at least some idea of her capacities, and thus, the capacity of other pre-Dreadnaughts.
Knowledge that he hoped would help keep them safe, as their operational range, one way or another, would likely be drastically different from larger and more modern battleships. Frankly, attempting to use them in such a role would be wasteful, if not outright dangerous.
Still, Kathrine had done respectably. Getting caught in the net aside, she was acclimating well.
That wasn't to say there weren't problems. As much as it pained him to admit it, the casements were one of them. While flooding was likely far less likely to be as much of an issue it'd historically been, their range was, well, lacking. He'd gone back and checked the targets. Kathrine had been adamant about concentrating her larger batteries on the farthest targets. Excluding her newer armaments and casements.
The former was explainable. The later? Likewise explainable, but for all the wrong reasons. Of course, he should have expected such. Casement gun emplacements had been phased out of ship design, and for good reason. Part of him had hoped that the oddities of shipgirls would overcome this flaw. But he supposed casements would simply have too many flaws, both in practice and design.
Still, such information would prove more than useful for those in the lab.
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Thankfully, the party had died down shortly after midnight, allowing much of the base to get a decent night's rest. Eventually, however, the base did stir back to life, staying clear of the parties' aftermath to the best of their ability.
"This explains her sleeping habits when she was little," she watched her daughter snoring slightly, head resting in the crook of South Dakota's elbow. The rest of her body lay against the side of the larger battleship. Or at least, that's what she assumed her daughter's body was. It was hard to tell, seeing as several smaller girls were using two as pillows and beds. Including one with long blue hair gently slumbering away on her daughter's stomach.
Her husband nodded, likewise looking at the sleeping pile of ships with an amused expression on his face, before pulling out his phone.
Yes. There would hardly be a better opportunity to take embarrassing pictures.
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I continued to stare, completely flabbergasted at my crew, as they loaded the paintball rounds into my hull. There were even paint load torpedos I could stock up on, even though I was told not to. No point practicing with them given how my torpedo tubes were going to be plugged up. A shame. I'd scored a kill with those things, against all odds. As I found out later, they'd been damaged when I jumped out of the plane, too, meaning I actually could do more to aim them normally.
"How exactly, do these paintball rounds handle being fired out of a canon?" I wondered around, eyes turning toward Admiral Kenneth. He honest to goodness shrugged in response. So, SMSB strikes again. It already pilfered the clothes I brought. And it better not have taken what I had at home too. The thought of losing all my shirts and pants? Parish it.
And if it had? Well, Johnson was a lunatic of the highest order, but he was right about life and what one should do with lemons. But that was, well, a problem to be solved in the future, if it ever became a problem at all.
"Hey, hey hey hey," one of my fairies, my captain started speaking. They'd loaded up on everything, and of course, prepared the new dummy rounds. I nodded, doing my best to convey my satisfaction, though I didn't respond with words. I wasn't exactly sure how I felt talking to them yet, let alone in front of other people.
Of course, I wasn't sure how I felt about them living inside me, either. Well, my feelings, one way or another, probably didn't matter. We were going to be together, after all, so being on good terms with my crew was, well, the natural thing.
"I'm completely loaded, sir," I saluted, probably incorrectly, if my father's distant snort was anything to go by.
"Very well," Admiral Kenneth nodded. "I do believe the training course would be next."
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The smell of salt filled my nose, as did the lapping of the waves in my ears. This was nice, floating in the water, relaxing.
Not being shot at or have bombs dropped on me. An absolute pleasant change of pace, though one I probably shouldn't get all that accustom to.
There was just one more preparation before I got to try out the firing range. Even if I couldn't practice with my new Bofors, my crew was still chomping at the bit to try the new five-inch guns.
"Sorry. We had to make sure this was waterproof," Admiral Kenneth handed me a headset, like one of those used by dispatchers. Because, yeah, morse code wasn't exactly the swiftest form of communication used these days. And sadly, a radio was probably only going to be coming along during the retrofit, alongside fire control and radar. Alongside the rest of the electrical systems. Whenever I was going to be getting those.
Which meant we were going to be eyeballing this. Oh well. My crew had no experience with more advanced technology anyway. And getting everyone retrained would likely be a long term endeavor. At least they could get some practice with the new five-inch batteries.
I headed out a little way. Not too far, but just far enough where I couldn't mistake whether or not Admiral Kenneth's voice come coming from the headset.
"Is everything functional, Katherine?" I heard him through the headset.
"I hear you loud and clear, sir," I responded, ignoring a slight twinge at the back of my mind. It's probably nothing.
"Good. See those targets?"
"Yes sir," I nodded, looking towards the mass of nets and targets. Some were simple floating bullseye, bobbing up and down in the water. However, more than a few of them were cut-outs of various Abyssal's. I'm pretty sure most of them weren't to scale, but regardless, that was a bit neet. Definitely would prefer hitting those over the simple bullseye.
"You can start running the course at your discretion."
"Yes sir," I paused a moment, getting all green lights across the board, making sure the paintball rounds were loaded, before making my way towards the start. Then my casement and five-inch guns cracked to life, releasing a deluge of shells in a rippling wave. Most of my shots missed, water erupting around the target like geysers, but a few hit home, covering it in variable splotches of paint.
A target further away found itself under assault from my larger batteries, the twelve and eight-inch guns releasing their salvo's. Many more geysers followed though I could still make out a massive splattering of paint towards the base.
On my left, my crew was reporting another target, point-blank range. I turned my head, just to make sure I wouldn't miss, before firing, unleashing a full blast of everything I hadn't already fired. Five, seven, and eight-inch guns fired in unison, a devastating near full broadside. Even then, I had to wince. A few shots went wide even at such proximity.
All right, so what's my next target? I scanned the area, trying to find another victim, only to notice something. Rope, ahead! Turn now!
I felt my rudder shift, beginning to pull into a turn, but it was far too late for that. Even at my nearly glacial pace, I still slammed into the numerous nets that served as the boundaries of the training course. For a moment or two, I struggled, trying to use my shipgirl strength to at least spare myself from being manually freed, but fortune was not on my side.
Well. This stunk.
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For the second time in just as many days, it was South Dakota that came to my rescue. Of course, I was thankful it was under much less dangerous circumstances. Even if this was infinitely more embarrassing.
"And up you go," she pulled me up to my feet with nearly a bit too much force, though I managed to keep my balance. Barely.
"Thank you," I smiled, silently praying to somebody that I wasn't blushing like an idiot with a crush. "Though we must stop meeting like this." South Dakota paused, before letting a chuckle.
"Of course. I won't be able to keep saving you when you get transferred after all," I had to turn part of my face away because if I hadn't been blushing before, I certainly was now. "Though I don't think I've seen someone get caught in the net before."
"It jumped out at me," it was an excuse, and a poor one at that. It hadn't worked in my previous life, and it probably wasn't going to work now.
"More like you were too focused on your guns," South Dakota paused for a moment. "Though, seeing as you don't have any fire control systems."
She clicked her tongue, almost in thought. Did fire control make firing guns that much more simple? Or maybe it was more akin to just being more efficient? Micromanaging and all that?
"Okay, we should go a lap or two," wait, what? How did she arrive at that conclusion? I mean, sure, I might be multitasking a bit too much, but I failed to see how that would solve the problem. But it wouldn't hurt to try either.
"I'll take point. And don't worry. I won't go top speed, either. I'll make sure you can keep up," South Dakota teased, as a felt a bit of heat rise off my face. I don't know if it was because I was just about as fast as a turtle stapled to a tree, but I should be able to keep up here.
Even if the younger battleship nearly had ten knots on me at the best of times. It took but a moment for me to fall into position behind her, however, before resuming firing. I was jealous watching her bean the farthest targets with unerring accuracy, while I could maybe peg it with a shot per salvo from my main batteries.
If that. Seriously, I couldn't even hit the broadside of the barn like this. And god, turning properly in such a confined area was awful! I barely made the turn, even with cutting my speed to about half.
"Holding up okay?" Dakota turned her head towards me, as her secondaries slathered a target in paint. I felt my crew try to pick up the pace to match her own salvo's, though they were as used to the new equipment as I was to being a ship.
"I feel slower than a turtle stapled to a tree," my mouth twitched downward, nearly forming a scowl. At least my casements were proving accurate, but that was simply due to them lacking range. They couldn't hit the farther targets. No matter how much I'd like to try. Something told me that might become a problem.
"That's certainly an interesting phrase," she chuckled, my lips twitching up slightly, as I fired my main guns again, this time pegging my target with two shots.
Damn. World of Warships made this seem way easier than it actually was. Of course, that was probably the entire point.
"Not bad," South Dakota nodded. "You're improving." Part of me grinned at the bit of praise, though another claimed it was simply because I'd gotten closer. I certainly hoped it was the former, but improving that quickly? Probably either down to closing distance or luck.
I fired another salvo, hitting another two shots. Then again, maybe not.
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"Sorry, but my head is killing me right now," I whined, rubbing my temples as if felt like the inside of my brain was on fire.
Thankfully, Admiral Kenneth was merciful, relieving me after my second run through the course, this time by myself, saying that he would look into it. Though I suspected he already figured out the answer.
Probably a union of me being recently awakened, and the fact I had to pull out a mental protractor every time I wanted to fire my guns. The former was probably a common issue, but the latter? Based on what I knew, I was the oldest reincarnated to date. Combined with the fact if I remained in my original body I'd be probably most of the way through my thirties, if not outright pushing into my forties.
Wow. That's a freaking scary thought. If I factored in the year I'd spent in service as Kansas? I'd be pushing into the fifties and sixties.
I shook my head, throwing off the train of thought. Yeah, no. I already felt old enough some days. No need to make myself feel positively ancient.
Still, I would give an arm and a leg for pain medicine right now. Ironic, given yesterday, but I'd already popped in some earlier in the day to no avail, so I was dealing with it the old fashion way.
Or as it's otherwise called, being too stubborn for my own good. It was either that or stick my head into a repair bath to see if that did anything, but that just sounded dumb. Plus, there were still signals making their way through my inflamed frontal cortex. Chief among them pangs from my stomach. I wanted to eat an entire cow right now, and nobody was going to stop me.
"You sure seem grumbly today," I shot Joseph a dirty look. Something was up. His posture was off. No, off wasn't exactly the wrong term.
Smug. My brother looked smug. Not exactly the most uncommon expression on him some days.
"Of course I'm hungry. I went without lunch," I shrugged, though made sure to remain on guard. He was aware of something I was not. Either that or he'd found something embarrassing. Regardless, I wasn't taking chances. "I'm so hungry I could eat a horse."
"For once, I believe you. You look positively famished now, and that's after you nearly eat your weight at breakfast," I raised an eyebrow. Sure, I'd eaten quite a fair bit of eggs, bacon, and pancakes, but my weight? Joseph had to be exaggerating. Even if shipgirls tended to eat a lot, eating more than a hundred pounds of food in a single sitting?
That didn't seem right. That level of voracious appetite couldn't be natural.
"Though I don't think you'll have to worry about it," Joseph paused for a moment as I pushed open the door to the mess hall. I should have paused with him. Maybe it would have saved me. Perhaps not.
"Surprise!" I blinked, yes, partly because I was just that. Surprised. It looked as if every shipgirl on the base was there, with the tables set up as all you can eat buffets. Was this a party? For me?
"Now, go have fun," it was a gentle shove, which shouldn't have been anywhere near enough to move me anymore, let alone make me stumble forward through the door.
Help. Help. Help.
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Admiral Kenneth smiled, despite having his face buried in paperwork. It was good to know Kathrine was likely enjoying herself right now. Most of the shipgirls had planned to have the welcome party yesterday, but due to his actions, it had been postponed.
Of course, that had just given them more time to prepare. Though he had to make sure there was no alcohol. Kathrine, was, legally, still too young to drink. Even being a shipgirl wouldn't change that.
And something told him alcohol was going to be a future problem. Maybe not with Kathrine, but certainly with her sisters. Ultimately, at this point, it was only a matter of time before the other Connecticut class battleships were summoned. And likely their summoning would be the harbinger for the arrival of other pre-Dreadnaughts. He didn't know for sure, but he wouldn't be betting against himself.
That was part of the reason he was already putting Kathrine through training. He needed to have at least some idea of her capacities, and thus, the capacity of other pre-Dreadnaughts.
Knowledge that he hoped would help keep them safe, as their operational range, one way or another, would likely be drastically different from larger and more modern battleships. Frankly, attempting to use them in such a role would be wasteful, if not outright dangerous.
Still, Kathrine had done respectably. Getting caught in the net aside, she was acclimating well.
That wasn't to say there weren't problems. As much as it pained him to admit it, the casements were one of them. While flooding was likely far less likely to be as much of an issue it'd historically been, their range was, well, lacking. He'd gone back and checked the targets. Kathrine had been adamant about concentrating her larger batteries on the farthest targets. Excluding her newer armaments and casements.
The former was explainable. The later? Likewise explainable, but for all the wrong reasons. Of course, he should have expected such. Casement gun emplacements had been phased out of ship design, and for good reason. Part of him had hoped that the oddities of shipgirls would overcome this flaw. But he supposed casements would simply have too many flaws, both in practice and design.
Still, such information would prove more than useful for those in the lab.
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Thankfully, the party had died down shortly after midnight, allowing much of the base to get a decent night's rest. Eventually, however, the base did stir back to life, staying clear of the parties' aftermath to the best of their ability.
"This explains her sleeping habits when she was little," she watched her daughter snoring slightly, head resting in the crook of South Dakota's elbow. The rest of her body lay against the side of the larger battleship. Or at least, that's what she assumed her daughter's body was. It was hard to tell, seeing as several smaller girls were using two as pillows and beds. Including one with long blue hair gently slumbering away on her daughter's stomach.
Her husband nodded, likewise looking at the sleeping pile of ships with an amused expression on his face, before pulling out his phone.
Yes. There would hardly be a better opportunity to take embarrassing pictures.
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Chapter 7
*Day 4*
Was it me, or did my dress feel tighter today? No, it wasn't my dress. It was something else. Honestly, it was probably my imagination. After all, it didn't look like there was any change between today's dress and the previous one.
Either way, I needed to hurry. If I could get my displacement under control by tonight, I would finally be able to sleep in a bed! A sweet, sweet bed!
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*Day 5*
Okay, I was hallucinating. Either my brother's posture had taken a hit, or someone had slipped something into my food. Sitting down, I was about at his eye level, which had not been the case for quite some time. Puberty had hit him hard, and even with my considerable head start, I know I wasn't able to keep up. Certainly didn't do it the first time around.
He turned to face me, noticing my stare with a slight smile, looking down on me like usual. So it was my imagination after all. Should have known.
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*Day 6*
Damn you! Budge! This wasn't that hard! I've been able to get this stupid thing to latch the past few days! What's with all the trouble now?
Finally, with agonizing slowness, with a soft click, it fell into place.
Oh, thank goodness. That had taken far longer than it had any right too. The tightness around my chest was even more notable than it had been over the past two days. So it wasn't just my imagination running haywire. Still, this should be enough to get through the day.
No sooner than the thought found its way through my mind, there was a loud pop, as the piece of cloth shot across the room, landing in the ever-growing pile.
Well, that's great. Just great. Okay, that's what, the fourth, fifth, one? Okay fine, the next one will be the charm.
And, well. That's a considerably larger issue. It seems that was the last one I packed. Okay, realistically speaking, I could just try and wear one of the dirty ones, but it was past time to put a pause on the insanity.
"Mom! I think I'm going to need this day off!" I said, with the door creaking open slightly. She looked between the pile of mechanically defective clothes laying in a pile at the other end of the room, and me.
"I can see why," she said bluntly, thankfully grasping the gravity of the situation at hand. "Do you want me to ask South Dakota has any clothes for you to borrow?"
My face began to shift towards a vibrant shade of pink. You get a picture of me using her muscular arms as a pillow one time, ONE TIME, and you're going to use it to tease me the ends of the earth! I hope this isn't some form of perverse revenge if Grandma and Grandpa teased you about dating dad! Because that is not okay! At all!
"Yes," I muttered. What? Most of the other ships were cruisers or destroyers, so their clothes certainly wouldn't fit. Even if South Dakota's clothes wouldn't be a snug fit either, I'd take something baggy over something too tight.
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"So, Kathrine has finally noticed her growth spurt?" Admiral Keeneth paused. It was inevitable, he supposed. But to take nearly a week was a bit surprising. Of course, she was also running herself ragged, so her distraction was understandable.
"Yes sir. I'm assuming you have plans for this?" that he very much did. Kathrine was not the oldest natural-born discovered. Oldest as a ship, yes, but far from the oldest human.
He knew what to expect, to an extent. Being a Pre-Dreadnaught might change a few things, but overall, a Pre-Dreadnaught was still a battleship. Which meant the result would likely be akin to that of a battleship. Which in this case, meant growth. Nearly six inches in just as few days, if his estimates were correct.
Still, the lateness of this notice had benefits. Without a doubt, the largest being her parents wouldn't have to be buying two separate sets of clothes. They would be reimbursed anyway, and Kathrine didn't appear to be the type to be overly extravagant or excessive in the first place.
"Has South Dakota requested permission to join her?" Admiral Kenneth frowned slightly. Such a request from South Dakota was likely, though he was reluctant to grant it. Kathrine's growth spurt would certainly help keep her anonymity, alongside the other changes from becoming a shipgirl. Placing her alongside such a famous, especially locally, shipgirl could easily sabotage it.
Of course, sending her out all alone with only her parents was something he couldn't do for numerous reasons. Kathrine was still a hot button topic right now given the events surrounding her awakening. It wouldn't surprise him if people were frothing at the mouth to interview her.
Something Kathrine was by no means ready for. Not through any fault of her own, far from it. Some people tried to treat shipgirls like celebrities, rather than simple human beings serving their country. Anyone from big names like Enterprise, Yamato, or Warspite to even smaller and lesser-known vessels such as Fletcher and her many sisters.
Natural borns tended to be little darlings especially. Kathrine even more so, given how the whole situation around her smelled of scandal. Of course, that probably wasn't the only issue. Even if significant headway had been made on that front since the start of the war, and even with there being no local chapters he was aware of, it wouldn't surprise him if they thought a natural-born Pre-Dreadnaught was an easier target.
They thought the same about Porter. As it turned out, a Destroyer with several five-inch guns was a far more formidable combatant than a crazed lunatic with a knife. Kathrine, who could now look her nearly six-foot brother in the eye and strong enough to be able to turn most assaults into pretzels was far more intimidating.
Which, while potentially amusing and given those particular individuals, deserved, would still be problematic, for numerous reasons.
"She said she would be awaiting your orders, sir," which meant she wanted to go but expected him to decline. He expected her to see that writing on the wall, as bitter as it may be.
Of course, there was a possibility that South Dakota could keep an eye on Kathrine while keeping attention off Kathrine herself. Possible. After all, most people would think Kathrine was simply a newly summoned shipgirl. Not an inherently correct assumption, but close enough to the truth. But that would still draw a fair bit of attention.
No. Ultimately, he wasn't going to be able to permit that. As much as he thought South Dakota and Kathrine got along quite well, the younger grabbed too much attention for such to be worth risking on such a task. Which was a shame, as he knew South Dakota would have loved the excuse to baby the older battleship.
Still, who else did he have? Denver and Kathrine were on terms where he trusted neither enough to be subtle. They'd throw too many jabs at each other for any attempt at that. Probably didn't help that as a Cleaveland she was still fairly recognizable, and Denver did have a reputation. Phoenix was also out. She generally didn't head into town, so that wasn't the issue.
Rather, she was far more obsessed with getting into fights than much else. A flaw she mercifully recognized. Which made Phoenix somehow even more likely to cause an incident.
But with the rest of his cruisers out on varying patrol runs, that left him with only destroyers. Which was far from a bad thing. As childlike as some could be, they mostly retained the same military discipline they had as ships. Still, he'd prefer something a bit more inconspicuous than a destroyer screen.
Maybe there was another option he hadn't considered? Admiral Kenneth found his eyes flipping to a report. This was.
Oh. This was perfectly timed, and the destroyer screen sounded like a marvelous idea. Maybe find a way to get them to see a movie. Both Kathrine and the destroyers deserved some type of break.
Hopefully, that would give them enough time to get South Carolina to calm down.
As unlikely as it would be.
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So this is what it felt like to be protected by a destroyer swarm. Okay, maybe a swarm was overselling three Fletcher class destroyers. It was strange seeing them in civilian clothes. Even more so how we weren't getting any weird looks. How was nobody recognizing the destroyers exactly?
Though, given both my and my mother's hair colors, the smaller girls with their mixture of red and brown hair likely passed off as sisters. Like a cute little family.
There was a little ting that went through my heart. Internally, family was certainly pushing it hard, but to an untrained observer? The destroyers were certainly playing it up, looking through shop windows with stars in their eyes. To the unobservant, we probably passed off as a family of tourists.
Which, to be fair, was partially true. Even with my family's frequent trips to Disney before Abyssal's showed up, this was not part of the state I'd been in. Even if we had though, I likely wouldn't recognize it. Sure, there was plenty of foot traffic, but at the same time, there was a feeling of emptiness.
Numerous shops looked run down, ratty, abandoned completely. What storefronts remained looked pleasant, sure, but the contrast was clear. Even with the Abyssal's in the Atlantic making the first move on the state in years, nobody seemed too alarmed. Yeah, sure, it was further down the coast, but still. Credit where it is due, but the people who remained on the coasts were quite brave.
Sure, many had fled into the countries interior, but many had also stayed on the coast once girls began to turn the tide. Given the volume of cities on the coastline the United States had? Not just major ports, but smaller cities and even towns? Numbered in the hundreds, if not thousands. Each holding tens if not hundreds of thousands of souls.
Even if several smaller towns had been wiped off the map.
Still, that didn't mean the area was untouched. Honestly, excluding the start of the war, America's interior had remained mostly unassaulted by Abyssal forces. We weren't exactly unaffected by the war. People had come in from the coasts, hoping to start anew, followed by companies looking for safer places to research and develop new technologies to help fight in the conflict. World War Two style gardens had made a resurgence, as did resource drives and while rationing was not as bad as Japan or Britain, it still existed.
But the physical signs? The anti-air guns at the upper floors of tall buildings? Abandoned storefronts? Those weren't there. They simply weren't. It was like being in a completely different world. I mean, I knew they existed. I'd seen the pictures. But there was a difference between seeing a picture, and seeing the actual thing.
Though I was going to have to get used to it. San Diego probably had dozens, if not hundreds of scenes just like this.
"We don't have those back at home," mom elbowed me gently, head pointing towards the emplacement I'd noticed.
"No, we most certainly don't."
"Really? You don't?" the one I recognized from a few days ago, Kidd, asked, turning her head towards us.
"Kansas City might have had some early on," I frowned, looking towards mom as she shook her head, red curls swinging. "Or not."
"Why not?"
Good to know destroyers were just as good at asking hard questions like children.
"Well, they could probably go to better use elsewhere," which was true. A gun emplacement left sitting that far inland was one that wasn't shooting at Abyssals. Or in other words, effectively useless. Plus, given that the only reason Abyssal bombers made it that far was a combination of their attempted push up the Mississippi and willingness to crash and burn. They were only even to get that far in the first place due to that push. So why waste the resources that could be going elsewhere.
"Plus, the interior is pretty safe anyway," I concluded. The hum Kidd responded with was not what I'd been expecting. Was she accepting the reasoning? Or was she disagreeing and knew something I didn't.
The rest of our walk was dominated by a gentle, but somewhat uneasy silence.
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Yes! Finally! Clothes that weren't dresses! I immediately began booking it towards the men's section. Yes, men's section. Firstly, have you ever tried women's pants? Most shops didn't seem to carry anything with actual pockets! Which, to be frank, was dumb as hell!
Secondly? I was like six-foot now, or close enough to it. Unless they carried shipgirl sized pants on the regular, the odds of me finding a fitting pair wouldn't be great.
But yeah, mostly because I wanted pants with pockets.
"Ka-Kathrine," I turned, a handful of pairs of shorts already hanging from my arms, prep for trial and error. Was it Strong? I looked down, the tuft of red hair confirming it was Strong. They were remembering to call me by my name, which was nice. Even if they were stumbling.
"I'd think you'd look nice in this," holding up an article of clothing for inspection. The snicker I heard from my mother was probably not the best of signs. But ignoring Strong would be rude, so I decided to humor the two.
And I already regret my choices in life.
Sure, it wasn't exactly a short skirt. I'd seen shipgirls wearing shorter. Iowa, mostly. Seriously, what was up with that microskirt?
But I wouldn't wear anything like that. I could wear dresses, or skirts if I needed to or even wanted to. If I was going to, it would be longer. Certainly longer than this red abomination.
"Sorry, but that's not in my taste," I frowned, trying to let down the destroyer gently. However, I paused, noticing the twitch in Strong's month. She was smirking. I shuddered. I knew what was coming. This was a trap. An expertly laid trap of mice and men. Best ruse since Death Star two. How was mom able to set this up so quickly? Truly, insidious powers were at work with her today.
"But you'd look so nice in it," I scowled at my mother, making my displeasure as apparent as I could. Against my mom, it probably still had all the effectiveness of a kitten trying to stare down a lion.
"Look, at least try it on," she gingerly took the skirt from Strong's hands, the destroyer barely bothering to hold back her snickers at this point, before placing it atop my pile of shorts. "Please?"
Oh, I'd make sure I'd get Strong back for this one. Somehow. But for the time being, I was just going to deal with it.
But if I was going to be wearing this thing, I'd be doing it my way. So I made sure to grab something else to go with it.
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After making sure my numerous fresh pairs of shorts fit, which was all I particularly cared about on that front, I now had to face the red skirt. I'd find some way to throw it into an incinerator one day.
If there was one thing I'd learned from anime. No, scratch that, if there was one thing I'd learned from Railgun, it was that Misaka is smarter than 99% of her fellow anime heroines. Seriously, I never would have thought of wearing pants with a skirt otherwise. Absolutely genius.
"I told you that you'd look nice," was my mom's comment, hardly missing a beat as I stepped out of the stall. Strong sounded a bit more disappointed in comparison.
"You're still wearing pants under there," I was thankful we were the only people in this section of the store because that probably would have gotten us a few strange looks.
"You don't?" I raised my eyebrow, sensing an opportunity to at the very least tease the destroyer back. "It's really good when you find the need to kick something."
I wanted to show off a bit, but I didn't want to create a scene, swinging my legs all over the place. Plus, I just might end up putting a hole in the store's floor. Which, would, well, be completely lacking in subtlety.
Strong's mouth went into a little o, as if my statement brought forth an epiphany.
Still, all I needed to do was change out of this thing, and get on to shirts.
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This one looked just about the right size. I picked up the shirt, unfolding it before looking down at myself. Yeah, it would fit, though it might be a size too large. That was more than acceptable. Even if it was larger than I thought, I could still use it as a sleep shirt.
Sleep shirt? That reminds me, I should probably check to see if they have pajama bottoms here. I mean those things were freaking amazing. Comfortable, great for lounging.
Hold on, this shirt looks nice. I frowned. I had six already. More than enough to last the few more days until vacation ended, where I would go back home, before being sent out to California. After which I'd need to just buy whatever I could. Sure, I could do it at home, but something told me the house was already swarming with reporters, and it'd only get worse if I stepped off the property.
Yeah, maybe I should get it here. That way I wouldn't have to deal with flashing cameras and a horde of people watching me pick out clothing. Though I didn't have an unlimited amount of suitcase space, so I was going to have to be picky regardless. And pray than California was far less starstruck about shipgirls than Kansas was going to be.
I reached out towards the shirt but paused at the last second. There was a feeling in my gut. One of those ominous feelings that just builds upon itself. Immediately, I began to scan the area around me. I spotted Kidd first, remaining close by while Strong was with my mother. Then I saw another person.
Their back was turned, so I couldn't make out any distinguishing features, but their posture just screamed at me. Like they were trying to hide something.
Maybe I was just being paranoid, but that's what it looked like to me. Why though? Did they have some type of camera? Phones still weren't exactly what they used to be by a longshot, but they still took decent enough video. Even if they had reverted away from more smartphone-like designs to being built more like a brick.
I shifted my head slightly, to give the impression that I was turning around, though my eyes remained locked on them. As I thought, their head began to swivel around as well.
Well, whoever they were and whatever they wanted, they certainly weren't particularly subtle. Nor did I want to be, either, but starting a confrontation wasn't something I desired either. At this point, the shirt I wanted to pick up remained forgotten, as I went to make sure everything would, in fact, fit. While making sure whoever it was got the message behind my glare that I didn't want to deal with them.
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Stepping out of the changing room, I once again looked around, hoping to relocate the individual and see them at a better angle. But either they improved at hiding, or it probably had to do with Kidd whistling none to inconspicuously in the corner.
Yeah, sure Kidd, I completely trust that you had absolutely nothing to do with it. I turned away, my eye's doing orbits in my skull as I rolled them. More like I wasn't going to ask questions.
However, I might just send a thank you card. Discreetly, of course.
So long as she didn't do anything drastic. Or scandalous.
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No, no, absolutely not. Horrifying. No. No. That? That much pink should not be possible. No, ick.
Okay, where do they keep the pajama bottoms? I was hoping to at least get something out of the women's section today, besides the bare essentials. But if I had to go back to the men's section, I'd do it. I wasn't making ideal threats here.
Scowling at the offending articles of clothing, fingers wrapped around my hand. Looking down, I noticed the Destroyer that had mysteriously gone missing mear moments after we arrived, who was blinking the sleep from her eyes. That? That was adorable.
Slowly, she began to pull me along. Okay, maybe pull was too strong a word. She wasn't applying that much force. More like she was guiding me along. As if she knew exactly what I wanted.
I almost cried when I finally saw it. Sure, some were far more vibrant and gaudy than anything I'd ever be caught dead wearing. But most were simply good enough for me.
"Thank you, Nicholas," I grinned at the sleepy destroyer, who merely nodded tiredly. After giving her a few pats on the head, I began to pick out what few I would tolerate wearing.
Oh, that one's blue. A keeper by default.
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My mom's breath was sharp as the bill finally rang up. I wish I was surprised that the skirt was nearly a fifth of the total, but that would make me a liar. Of which I was most certainly not. I mean, I looked at the price tag. Mom was going to pay for recommending that article of clothing, I knew that much in advance.
Still, this was a bit more expensive than I would have liked it to be. But given how I was pretty much completely out of clothes, this was always going to be something that cost a considerably pretty penny.
Finally, we exited the store, my arms laden with bags. Everyone was pitching in, so I could at the very least see where I was going.
Though I wasn't sure why we were heading towards a movie theater. What was that about?
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The movie was okay, I guess. It was a bit of a kiddy flick, but the destroyers liked it, so that wasn't too awful. They deserved a bit of a thank you.
I just used it as an excuse to snarf down as much popcorn as I possibly could. Popcorn was something I loved, movie popcorn even more so. Though I did stop after my second refill. The lady behind the counter was giving me a serious stink eye. I probably could have eaten more, otherwise.
But honestly, even with a shipgirls appetite, three whole buckets was enough for me to say I was done, anyway. I knew mom was certainly not going to live it down, but I was content with myself. Probably wasn't going to get the chance to do something like that any time soon, so there shouldn't be an issue indulging myself just a bit.
Still, I hurried along. There was more than plenty of time to get things washed before tomorrow. At the very least, the bare minimal essentials of what I needed. I mean, it wasn't that late in the day. Throw it in before dinner rolls around, then afterward throw it into the drier. Easy.
I mean, it would be easy. There was just one small problem. Okay, maybe not a problem. More like a question and curiosity.
Why was I hearing a sound consistent with the doppler effect? That didn't make any sense unless someone had managed to get a jeep into the halls, and I felt that I'd be hearing a lot more noise if that was the case. Were the halls even big enough to fit a jeep in the first place?
I knew better than to ask why someone would do such a thing. Alcohol and shipgirls made for a considerable joint mess. Combine that with nonsensical magical properties, and the recipe for disaster was already mixed and ready for ignition. Quite frankly, it was now just another reason why I'd never touch the stuff, even after I got to legal drinking age.
Either way, if it was an emergency, someone would come to find me. Or otherwise, contact me, I hadn't exactly been shy giving out my contact information.
Still, was it me, or was the noise getting closer?
The sudden addition of weight in my arms removed the thoughts from my head. After all, I had other things to worry about.
Like why I was suddenly bridal carrying a stranger!
Was it me, or did my dress feel tighter today? No, it wasn't my dress. It was something else. Honestly, it was probably my imagination. After all, it didn't look like there was any change between today's dress and the previous one.
Either way, I needed to hurry. If I could get my displacement under control by tonight, I would finally be able to sleep in a bed! A sweet, sweet bed!
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*Day 5*
Okay, I was hallucinating. Either my brother's posture had taken a hit, or someone had slipped something into my food. Sitting down, I was about at his eye level, which had not been the case for quite some time. Puberty had hit him hard, and even with my considerable head start, I know I wasn't able to keep up. Certainly didn't do it the first time around.
He turned to face me, noticing my stare with a slight smile, looking down on me like usual. So it was my imagination after all. Should have known.
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*Day 6*
Damn you! Budge! This wasn't that hard! I've been able to get this stupid thing to latch the past few days! What's with all the trouble now?
Finally, with agonizing slowness, with a soft click, it fell into place.
Oh, thank goodness. That had taken far longer than it had any right too. The tightness around my chest was even more notable than it had been over the past two days. So it wasn't just my imagination running haywire. Still, this should be enough to get through the day.
No sooner than the thought found its way through my mind, there was a loud pop, as the piece of cloth shot across the room, landing in the ever-growing pile.
Well, that's great. Just great. Okay, that's what, the fourth, fifth, one? Okay fine, the next one will be the charm.
And, well. That's a considerably larger issue. It seems that was the last one I packed. Okay, realistically speaking, I could just try and wear one of the dirty ones, but it was past time to put a pause on the insanity.
"Mom! I think I'm going to need this day off!" I said, with the door creaking open slightly. She looked between the pile of mechanically defective clothes laying in a pile at the other end of the room, and me.
"I can see why," she said bluntly, thankfully grasping the gravity of the situation at hand. "Do you want me to ask South Dakota has any clothes for you to borrow?"
My face began to shift towards a vibrant shade of pink. You get a picture of me using her muscular arms as a pillow one time, ONE TIME, and you're going to use it to tease me the ends of the earth! I hope this isn't some form of perverse revenge if Grandma and Grandpa teased you about dating dad! Because that is not okay! At all!
"Yes," I muttered. What? Most of the other ships were cruisers or destroyers, so their clothes certainly wouldn't fit. Even if South Dakota's clothes wouldn't be a snug fit either, I'd take something baggy over something too tight.
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"So, Kathrine has finally noticed her growth spurt?" Admiral Keeneth paused. It was inevitable, he supposed. But to take nearly a week was a bit surprising. Of course, she was also running herself ragged, so her distraction was understandable.
"Yes sir. I'm assuming you have plans for this?" that he very much did. Kathrine was not the oldest natural-born discovered. Oldest as a ship, yes, but far from the oldest human.
He knew what to expect, to an extent. Being a Pre-Dreadnaught might change a few things, but overall, a Pre-Dreadnaught was still a battleship. Which meant the result would likely be akin to that of a battleship. Which in this case, meant growth. Nearly six inches in just as few days, if his estimates were correct.
Still, the lateness of this notice had benefits. Without a doubt, the largest being her parents wouldn't have to be buying two separate sets of clothes. They would be reimbursed anyway, and Kathrine didn't appear to be the type to be overly extravagant or excessive in the first place.
"Has South Dakota requested permission to join her?" Admiral Kenneth frowned slightly. Such a request from South Dakota was likely, though he was reluctant to grant it. Kathrine's growth spurt would certainly help keep her anonymity, alongside the other changes from becoming a shipgirl. Placing her alongside such a famous, especially locally, shipgirl could easily sabotage it.
Of course, sending her out all alone with only her parents was something he couldn't do for numerous reasons. Kathrine was still a hot button topic right now given the events surrounding her awakening. It wouldn't surprise him if people were frothing at the mouth to interview her.
Something Kathrine was by no means ready for. Not through any fault of her own, far from it. Some people tried to treat shipgirls like celebrities, rather than simple human beings serving their country. Anyone from big names like Enterprise, Yamato, or Warspite to even smaller and lesser-known vessels such as Fletcher and her many sisters.
Natural borns tended to be little darlings especially. Kathrine even more so, given how the whole situation around her smelled of scandal. Of course, that probably wasn't the only issue. Even if significant headway had been made on that front since the start of the war, and even with there being no local chapters he was aware of, it wouldn't surprise him if they thought a natural-born Pre-Dreadnaught was an easier target.
They thought the same about Porter. As it turned out, a Destroyer with several five-inch guns was a far more formidable combatant than a crazed lunatic with a knife. Kathrine, who could now look her nearly six-foot brother in the eye and strong enough to be able to turn most assaults into pretzels was far more intimidating.
Which, while potentially amusing and given those particular individuals, deserved, would still be problematic, for numerous reasons.
"She said she would be awaiting your orders, sir," which meant she wanted to go but expected him to decline. He expected her to see that writing on the wall, as bitter as it may be.
Of course, there was a possibility that South Dakota could keep an eye on Kathrine while keeping attention off Kathrine herself. Possible. After all, most people would think Kathrine was simply a newly summoned shipgirl. Not an inherently correct assumption, but close enough to the truth. But that would still draw a fair bit of attention.
No. Ultimately, he wasn't going to be able to permit that. As much as he thought South Dakota and Kathrine got along quite well, the younger grabbed too much attention for such to be worth risking on such a task. Which was a shame, as he knew South Dakota would have loved the excuse to baby the older battleship.
Still, who else did he have? Denver and Kathrine were on terms where he trusted neither enough to be subtle. They'd throw too many jabs at each other for any attempt at that. Probably didn't help that as a Cleaveland she was still fairly recognizable, and Denver did have a reputation. Phoenix was also out. She generally didn't head into town, so that wasn't the issue.
Rather, she was far more obsessed with getting into fights than much else. A flaw she mercifully recognized. Which made Phoenix somehow even more likely to cause an incident.
But with the rest of his cruisers out on varying patrol runs, that left him with only destroyers. Which was far from a bad thing. As childlike as some could be, they mostly retained the same military discipline they had as ships. Still, he'd prefer something a bit more inconspicuous than a destroyer screen.
Maybe there was another option he hadn't considered? Admiral Kenneth found his eyes flipping to a report. This was.
Oh. This was perfectly timed, and the destroyer screen sounded like a marvelous idea. Maybe find a way to get them to see a movie. Both Kathrine and the destroyers deserved some type of break.
Hopefully, that would give them enough time to get South Carolina to calm down.
As unlikely as it would be.
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So this is what it felt like to be protected by a destroyer swarm. Okay, maybe a swarm was overselling three Fletcher class destroyers. It was strange seeing them in civilian clothes. Even more so how we weren't getting any weird looks. How was nobody recognizing the destroyers exactly?
Though, given both my and my mother's hair colors, the smaller girls with their mixture of red and brown hair likely passed off as sisters. Like a cute little family.
There was a little ting that went through my heart. Internally, family was certainly pushing it hard, but to an untrained observer? The destroyers were certainly playing it up, looking through shop windows with stars in their eyes. To the unobservant, we probably passed off as a family of tourists.
Which, to be fair, was partially true. Even with my family's frequent trips to Disney before Abyssal's showed up, this was not part of the state I'd been in. Even if we had though, I likely wouldn't recognize it. Sure, there was plenty of foot traffic, but at the same time, there was a feeling of emptiness.
Numerous shops looked run down, ratty, abandoned completely. What storefronts remained looked pleasant, sure, but the contrast was clear. Even with the Abyssal's in the Atlantic making the first move on the state in years, nobody seemed too alarmed. Yeah, sure, it was further down the coast, but still. Credit where it is due, but the people who remained on the coasts were quite brave.
Sure, many had fled into the countries interior, but many had also stayed on the coast once girls began to turn the tide. Given the volume of cities on the coastline the United States had? Not just major ports, but smaller cities and even towns? Numbered in the hundreds, if not thousands. Each holding tens if not hundreds of thousands of souls.
Even if several smaller towns had been wiped off the map.
Still, that didn't mean the area was untouched. Honestly, excluding the start of the war, America's interior had remained mostly unassaulted by Abyssal forces. We weren't exactly unaffected by the war. People had come in from the coasts, hoping to start anew, followed by companies looking for safer places to research and develop new technologies to help fight in the conflict. World War Two style gardens had made a resurgence, as did resource drives and while rationing was not as bad as Japan or Britain, it still existed.
But the physical signs? The anti-air guns at the upper floors of tall buildings? Abandoned storefronts? Those weren't there. They simply weren't. It was like being in a completely different world. I mean, I knew they existed. I'd seen the pictures. But there was a difference between seeing a picture, and seeing the actual thing.
Though I was going to have to get used to it. San Diego probably had dozens, if not hundreds of scenes just like this.
"We don't have those back at home," mom elbowed me gently, head pointing towards the emplacement I'd noticed.
"No, we most certainly don't."
"Really? You don't?" the one I recognized from a few days ago, Kidd, asked, turning her head towards us.
"Kansas City might have had some early on," I frowned, looking towards mom as she shook her head, red curls swinging. "Or not."
"Why not?"
Good to know destroyers were just as good at asking hard questions like children.
"Well, they could probably go to better use elsewhere," which was true. A gun emplacement left sitting that far inland was one that wasn't shooting at Abyssals. Or in other words, effectively useless. Plus, given that the only reason Abyssal bombers made it that far was a combination of their attempted push up the Mississippi and willingness to crash and burn. They were only even to get that far in the first place due to that push. So why waste the resources that could be going elsewhere.
"Plus, the interior is pretty safe anyway," I concluded. The hum Kidd responded with was not what I'd been expecting. Was she accepting the reasoning? Or was she disagreeing and knew something I didn't.
The rest of our walk was dominated by a gentle, but somewhat uneasy silence.
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Yes! Finally! Clothes that weren't dresses! I immediately began booking it towards the men's section. Yes, men's section. Firstly, have you ever tried women's pants? Most shops didn't seem to carry anything with actual pockets! Which, to be frank, was dumb as hell!
Secondly? I was like six-foot now, or close enough to it. Unless they carried shipgirl sized pants on the regular, the odds of me finding a fitting pair wouldn't be great.
But yeah, mostly because I wanted pants with pockets.
"Ka-Kathrine," I turned, a handful of pairs of shorts already hanging from my arms, prep for trial and error. Was it Strong? I looked down, the tuft of red hair confirming it was Strong. They were remembering to call me by my name, which was nice. Even if they were stumbling.
"I'd think you'd look nice in this," holding up an article of clothing for inspection. The snicker I heard from my mother was probably not the best of signs. But ignoring Strong would be rude, so I decided to humor the two.
And I already regret my choices in life.
Sure, it wasn't exactly a short skirt. I'd seen shipgirls wearing shorter. Iowa, mostly. Seriously, what was up with that microskirt?
But I wouldn't wear anything like that. I could wear dresses, or skirts if I needed to or even wanted to. If I was going to, it would be longer. Certainly longer than this red abomination.
"Sorry, but that's not in my taste," I frowned, trying to let down the destroyer gently. However, I paused, noticing the twitch in Strong's month. She was smirking. I shuddered. I knew what was coming. This was a trap. An expertly laid trap of mice and men. Best ruse since Death Star two. How was mom able to set this up so quickly? Truly, insidious powers were at work with her today.
"But you'd look so nice in it," I scowled at my mother, making my displeasure as apparent as I could. Against my mom, it probably still had all the effectiveness of a kitten trying to stare down a lion.
"Look, at least try it on," she gingerly took the skirt from Strong's hands, the destroyer barely bothering to hold back her snickers at this point, before placing it atop my pile of shorts. "Please?"
Oh, I'd make sure I'd get Strong back for this one. Somehow. But for the time being, I was just going to deal with it.
But if I was going to be wearing this thing, I'd be doing it my way. So I made sure to grab something else to go with it.
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After making sure my numerous fresh pairs of shorts fit, which was all I particularly cared about on that front, I now had to face the red skirt. I'd find some way to throw it into an incinerator one day.
If there was one thing I'd learned from anime. No, scratch that, if there was one thing I'd learned from Railgun, it was that Misaka is smarter than 99% of her fellow anime heroines. Seriously, I never would have thought of wearing pants with a skirt otherwise. Absolutely genius.
"I told you that you'd look nice," was my mom's comment, hardly missing a beat as I stepped out of the stall. Strong sounded a bit more disappointed in comparison.
"You're still wearing pants under there," I was thankful we were the only people in this section of the store because that probably would have gotten us a few strange looks.
"You don't?" I raised my eyebrow, sensing an opportunity to at the very least tease the destroyer back. "It's really good when you find the need to kick something."
I wanted to show off a bit, but I didn't want to create a scene, swinging my legs all over the place. Plus, I just might end up putting a hole in the store's floor. Which, would, well, be completely lacking in subtlety.
Strong's mouth went into a little o, as if my statement brought forth an epiphany.
Still, all I needed to do was change out of this thing, and get on to shirts.
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This one looked just about the right size. I picked up the shirt, unfolding it before looking down at myself. Yeah, it would fit, though it might be a size too large. That was more than acceptable. Even if it was larger than I thought, I could still use it as a sleep shirt.
Sleep shirt? That reminds me, I should probably check to see if they have pajama bottoms here. I mean those things were freaking amazing. Comfortable, great for lounging.
Hold on, this shirt looks nice. I frowned. I had six already. More than enough to last the few more days until vacation ended, where I would go back home, before being sent out to California. After which I'd need to just buy whatever I could. Sure, I could do it at home, but something told me the house was already swarming with reporters, and it'd only get worse if I stepped off the property.
Yeah, maybe I should get it here. That way I wouldn't have to deal with flashing cameras and a horde of people watching me pick out clothing. Though I didn't have an unlimited amount of suitcase space, so I was going to have to be picky regardless. And pray than California was far less starstruck about shipgirls than Kansas was going to be.
I reached out towards the shirt but paused at the last second. There was a feeling in my gut. One of those ominous feelings that just builds upon itself. Immediately, I began to scan the area around me. I spotted Kidd first, remaining close by while Strong was with my mother. Then I saw another person.
Their back was turned, so I couldn't make out any distinguishing features, but their posture just screamed at me. Like they were trying to hide something.
Maybe I was just being paranoid, but that's what it looked like to me. Why though? Did they have some type of camera? Phones still weren't exactly what they used to be by a longshot, but they still took decent enough video. Even if they had reverted away from more smartphone-like designs to being built more like a brick.
I shifted my head slightly, to give the impression that I was turning around, though my eyes remained locked on them. As I thought, their head began to swivel around as well.
Well, whoever they were and whatever they wanted, they certainly weren't particularly subtle. Nor did I want to be, either, but starting a confrontation wasn't something I desired either. At this point, the shirt I wanted to pick up remained forgotten, as I went to make sure everything would, in fact, fit. While making sure whoever it was got the message behind my glare that I didn't want to deal with them.
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Stepping out of the changing room, I once again looked around, hoping to relocate the individual and see them at a better angle. But either they improved at hiding, or it probably had to do with Kidd whistling none to inconspicuously in the corner.
Yeah, sure Kidd, I completely trust that you had absolutely nothing to do with it. I turned away, my eye's doing orbits in my skull as I rolled them. More like I wasn't going to ask questions.
However, I might just send a thank you card. Discreetly, of course.
So long as she didn't do anything drastic. Or scandalous.
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No, no, absolutely not. Horrifying. No. No. That? That much pink should not be possible. No, ick.
Okay, where do they keep the pajama bottoms? I was hoping to at least get something out of the women's section today, besides the bare essentials. But if I had to go back to the men's section, I'd do it. I wasn't making ideal threats here.
Scowling at the offending articles of clothing, fingers wrapped around my hand. Looking down, I noticed the Destroyer that had mysteriously gone missing mear moments after we arrived, who was blinking the sleep from her eyes. That? That was adorable.
Slowly, she began to pull me along. Okay, maybe pull was too strong a word. She wasn't applying that much force. More like she was guiding me along. As if she knew exactly what I wanted.
I almost cried when I finally saw it. Sure, some were far more vibrant and gaudy than anything I'd ever be caught dead wearing. But most were simply good enough for me.
"Thank you, Nicholas," I grinned at the sleepy destroyer, who merely nodded tiredly. After giving her a few pats on the head, I began to pick out what few I would tolerate wearing.
Oh, that one's blue. A keeper by default.
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My mom's breath was sharp as the bill finally rang up. I wish I was surprised that the skirt was nearly a fifth of the total, but that would make me a liar. Of which I was most certainly not. I mean, I looked at the price tag. Mom was going to pay for recommending that article of clothing, I knew that much in advance.
Still, this was a bit more expensive than I would have liked it to be. But given how I was pretty much completely out of clothes, this was always going to be something that cost a considerably pretty penny.
Finally, we exited the store, my arms laden with bags. Everyone was pitching in, so I could at the very least see where I was going.
Though I wasn't sure why we were heading towards a movie theater. What was that about?
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The movie was okay, I guess. It was a bit of a kiddy flick, but the destroyers liked it, so that wasn't too awful. They deserved a bit of a thank you.
I just used it as an excuse to snarf down as much popcorn as I possibly could. Popcorn was something I loved, movie popcorn even more so. Though I did stop after my second refill. The lady behind the counter was giving me a serious stink eye. I probably could have eaten more, otherwise.
But honestly, even with a shipgirls appetite, three whole buckets was enough for me to say I was done, anyway. I knew mom was certainly not going to live it down, but I was content with myself. Probably wasn't going to get the chance to do something like that any time soon, so there shouldn't be an issue indulging myself just a bit.
Still, I hurried along. There was more than plenty of time to get things washed before tomorrow. At the very least, the bare minimal essentials of what I needed. I mean, it wasn't that late in the day. Throw it in before dinner rolls around, then afterward throw it into the drier. Easy.
I mean, it would be easy. There was just one small problem. Okay, maybe not a problem. More like a question and curiosity.
Why was I hearing a sound consistent with the doppler effect? That didn't make any sense unless someone had managed to get a jeep into the halls, and I felt that I'd be hearing a lot more noise if that was the case. Were the halls even big enough to fit a jeep in the first place?
I knew better than to ask why someone would do such a thing. Alcohol and shipgirls made for a considerable joint mess. Combine that with nonsensical magical properties, and the recipe for disaster was already mixed and ready for ignition. Quite frankly, it was now just another reason why I'd never touch the stuff, even after I got to legal drinking age.
Either way, if it was an emergency, someone would come to find me. Or otherwise, contact me, I hadn't exactly been shy giving out my contact information.
Still, was it me, or was the noise getting closer?
The sudden addition of weight in my arms removed the thoughts from my head. After all, I had other things to worry about.
Like why I was suddenly bridal carrying a stranger!
Chapter 8
It took every ounce of willpower I had to not do the first thing one would instinctively do if a stranger suddenly jumped into your arms.
Drop them.
This was for a few reasons. The largest being with her arms wrapped around me as they were, I wasn't entirely sure it would be enough to dislodge her. Followed by picking up the clothes that could be spilled would prove, well, annoying.
Lastly? Despite being a stranger, she seemed, oddly familiar. Not the I've seen this person on TV familiar, but personally familiar. Yet I've never seen this lady in my life!
Was? Was she purring?
Okay, whoever she was, she was happy to see me. I scowled, gears in my brain beginning to shake off dust and cobwebs, slowly coming online. I knew her from somewhere. The ocean, I think. My sister, New Hampshire. She was with us. The convoys. Then there was the propeller and.
"South Carolina!" I gasped, mouth agape. This was the correct answer, as her bear hug only intensified. As the memory slipped into place, everything made a lot more sense. That would explain the sudden invasion of my arms.
Still. South Carolina. I didn't know she had been summoned. She was America's first dreadnought, after all.
She was our replacement. The reason we had been rendered.
Nope! I shoved that dark line of thought back into the recesses from which it came. I was not dealing with that right now. Technology advanced. Like it or not, times change. She likely had to deal with being made obsolete as well. I wasn't going to blame her for that.
"I'm so happy you remember me," her grin was like the radiant sun. No, it was bright. "People kept telling me you wouldn't, but you did."
"It's all a bit fuzzy," that wasn't entirely true. It was pretty much completely fuzzy. Outside of that nightmare, and little bits like this, it was just fog.
Plus, this was a bit awkward. What exactly is the protocol for this type of situation? Having someone just jump into my hands wasn't something I'd experienced before.
"But I kind of need to get my clothes situation dealt with," I nudged, trying my best to hint that I kind of wanted her to let go, without stating it outright. She looked at me for a second, before her mouth morphed.
"Oh. Of course," slowly, she untangled herself from around my frame, with me doing my best to guide her along. Once she was on her own two feet, I looked up at her tan face, mentally frowning. I was just getting used to being tall, damn it!
"Do you need a hand?" South Carolina extended her arm outward. I mean, it was my stuff, but if she wanted to help, I guess it shouldn't be a problem.
"Sure," I handed her a little less than half of my new clothes. Mostly out of my sense of pride. Sure, she offered to help me, and I certainly didn't want to come off as rude or insulting, but I still capable.
After all, I helped escort her home after she popped a propeller. I was supposed to aid her, not the other way around.
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Vestal took a sip from her jug of coffee, before placing it back on the table. Medusa had already passed out, but given the time difference between San Diego and New York, she couldn't fault her.
Nor could she fault many of the human engineers who had either gone home or simply fell asleep at their stations. They needed the sleep more, and Vestal preferred it that way. She'd seen what happened when they didn't get the rest they needed.
Honestly, compared to this, coming up with the retrofits and rebuilds of what the Admiralty called the 'little battleships' had been simple. Increasing thickness of the armor belt while making the shape of the hull more angular, replacing boilers and engines, upgrading and adding new equipment, adding anti-air emplacements, and of course, upgrades to the main guns. Of course, that was an oversimplification of all the upgrades and modifications given, but it was the standard.
Sadly, the Connecticut's were the first pre-dreadnoughts returned. More specifically, Kansas was. Meaning they were in uncharted territory. And a battleship with a hybrid armament such as the pre-dreadnaughts leads to considerable conundrums. The twelve-inch guns found on the Alaska and Gaum had already been modified and placed on South Carolina, and almost all designs concocted thus far made use of those twelve-inch batteries.
It was just a shame that outside of the twelve-inch guns, the removal of the casement batteries, and the various internal upgrades, none of the designs had anything in common.
Even one person tried to give her a schematic that called for thinning Kansas's armor belt. He'd take someone's 'like a Battle Monitor' comment a bit too literally.
She sent him home early. He seriously needed sleep by that point.
But there was too much confusion on what exactly to do. While little battleships had been a cute nickname from some of the earliest dreadnaughts, it was still accurate. They were just smaller battleships.
But there was a reason HMS Dreadnaught changed naval warfare. Despite filling the role of a capital ship, the pre-dreadnaughts were drastically different in design, and how they functioned in combat. Quite frankly, nobody living would understand how a pre-dreadnought would have fought.
Sure, some records would prove useful on that front. But finding digital military accounts proved difficult, and while some books were written on the subject, she'd prefer reports over anything else. But given the age of such reports, the hunt was still on for anything of use.
She was one of the few ships presently in the US fleet that had been laid down before the construction of America's first dreadnought. Well, there was the Consitution, but she doubted the ship would have relevant information on how pre-dreadnought's fought.
Vestal looked at the notes provided to her about Kansas's light retrofit. The five-inch guns had integrated well, but as for their placement? There could be improvements.
What worried her was the superstructure. Or more accurately, how little superstructure there was. The conning towers were likely going to be pitched entirely, and the smokestacks were also likely to be cut in number. That gave them room to expand, even if part of it was going to be dominated by radar and other equipment.
Anti-Air was the biggest concern. The basic plan for Kansas's armaments would be fine. South Carolina provided the base for the modified Mark 8 twelve-inch, and while some alterations would have to be made to the Mark 14 eight-inch, those were well within the realm of reality.
But the small handful of twin Bofors, not even quad Bofors, was insufficient. She understood the necessity of such modifications. Kansas's Anti-Air guns wouldn't have been able to shoot down a fly, much less a modern aircraft. Given the beating Kansas took, it probably helped set her mind at ease. She did not blame the older ship for that.
Still, as was, the forty-millimeter guns did not sit well with their current emplacement. With more superstructure, they would have the space for a few quad mountings, making it safer to replace her deck Bofor's with the smaller Oerlikons.
From there, things had devolved. Some designs called for thinning the armor to increase speed. Other's realized just how unlikely it was to get an increase even close to the Kongo's, preferring to double down on an even thicker and better-designed armor belt.
Quite frankly, Vestal was more inclined on the second line of thought. She pulled up a diagram of the Connecticut's original armor scheme. Yes, it was undoubtedly an older design, in desperate need of modernization, but it wasn't awful. At its thinnest, it matched the thickest parts of a Baltimore's armor belt. A class that had a length of more than two hundred feet greater. In fact, at its thickest, it was one inch thinner than the Hood. And Hood was larger still.
For ships of their size, Connecticut's had considerably heavy armor. Leaning into the strength would be wise. Especially as Vestal was uncertain that they would be able to fully address the issue of speed. Replacing the engines would certainly help fix parts of the issue, as would making the hull more streamlined.
Even with increasing the armor belt's thickness, they might be able to squeeze out a good four additional knots, five if they crossed their fingers. Not bad. If they weren't starting at eighteen knots.
Still, that would leave the Connecticut's speed completely lacking for reasonable carrier escort. That would put them at twenty-two knots, twenty-three at absolute best.
Meaning the average fleet carrier could leave them in the dust. Even light carriers would. That left seaplane tenders, and, by extension, Langley. But the former had numerous other possible escorts and the latter.
Like her, the converted coiler was kept off the front lines. Even if Langley didn't agree with the Admiralty, Vestal did see why they didn't want her near active combat zones unless they could help it. Even the upgrade to her engines that could get her close to eighteen knots wasn't healthy for her.
Which left her awaiting conversion into a helicopter carrier, but the technology was still considerably far out in shipgirl terms.
Vestal took another swig of coffee. Her mind was starting to wonder. Rarely a good sign. She could stay awake longer. Most shipgirls could stay awake for days, if not weeks at a time. Regardless, she knew such proved to be quite unhealthy.
Perhaps it was time to retire for the night.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
IowaFan3
-Is Kathrine okay?
-Seriously, I haven't heard anything much outside of the media storm.
-Haven't seen anything this saturated since Kansas City got summoned.
-And Kathrine hasn't responded either.
FredBurger
-I've tried contacting her brother about everything. No dice.
HoRdEpRiMe
-In bf Cyron says a lack of response is a response.
Cyron
-That says a lot right there.
-Fuck.
-How do you keep doing that?
HoRdEpRiMe
-Maybe stop being so predictable?
Cyron
-*Holds out middle finger*
IowaFan3
-Stop flirting you two, this is serious.
Cyron
-I'm not wrong.
-Seriously, the fact neither confirms nor denies is confirmation all of its own.
HoRdEpRiMe
-If they denied it, you'd take that as confirmation as well.
Cyron
-Again, I'm not wrong.
-Given how bad things went, the Navy's going to want to make sure all its ducks are in a row.
-I expect someone's losing a job over the next few days.
FredBurger
-I mean, have you guys seen the pictures?
-Cyron's right. If that is Kathrine, then things went south, fast.
-Someone messed up somewhere along the line, and their head will likely be on a pike.
-Too high profile for any other response.
IowaFan3
-So they can't just brush it under the rug?
Cyron
-At best this individual (whether or not she's Kathrine is still out) went out without, or even ignoring orders. Which would be on them.
-At worst?
-Someone ordered an untrained and underage shipgirl into the field, nearly getting them killed and wasting a valuable asset in the process.
-An event that could only be attributed to blistering incompetence or complete malicious intent.
-The Navy doesn't like either of those things.
-Especially when it comes to shipgirls.
IronSights
-Well, I'm convinced at this point.
-158009.jepg
-This was circling in one of the tabloids. The Navy might have gotten some of the mainstream to back off a bit.
IowaFan3
-That isn't Kathrine.
-Kathrine is nowhere near that tall.
HoRdEpRiMe
-You should look at the redhead standing next to her.
Cyron
-Could be edited.
-Though that does look like Kathrine's mom.
FredBurger
-What's with those little kids?
IronSights
-Destroyer screen.
-Duh.
Cryon
-Regardless, the whole shipgirl thing makes sense in hindsight.
IowaFan3
-What do you mean "in hindsight"?
FredBurger
-She likes to swim, for starters.
-But dunking her head underwater will result in the offending individual getting judo thrown.
-Isn't shipgirls hate being submerged a big give away?
-Unless you're a submarine?
Cyron
-Didn't forget that.
-But I was thinking of those night terrors.
-Remember that one time at D&D?
HoRdEpRiMe
-God, that was awful.
-That almost made me feel sick.
IronSights
-Yep. That. Wasn't pleasant to witness.
-On a more light-hearted note, which ship do you guys think she is?
HoRdEpRiMe
-Anything less than a Tillmen would be disappointing.
-Imagine, the look on the Navy's face if they managed to summon one of those.
Cyron
-It'd be the look of 'how dare that bastard shit on our plate again. He's supposed to be dead'.
-But in all seriousness?
-With that turret layout we've seen?
-Either an early era dreadnought, maybe even a pre-dreadnought.
IronSights
-Ouch.
-Kathrine sometimes seemed like she had an old soul, but I didn't think it was that old.
FredBurger
-*Spits drink out of mouth*
-Someone's sassy today.
IowaFan3
-Really? Is this where we're going to go?
Cyron
-I understand your concern, but she's likely fine at this point.
-If Ironsight's picture is of Kathrine, then she's completely healed up and likely not to see combat operation for some time.
-If it isn't, then the media may have misidentified her in the first place.
-Break will be ending soon. We'll find out one way or another shortly.
IowaFan3
-But what about?
HoRdEpRiMe
-You do realize whether or not Kathrine is now a shipgirl does not affect her being able to carry your around, right?
Cyron
-To be fair, that goes for everyone else besides me.
FredBurger
-Dear God, I just finished wiping off my screen.
-Please, stop.
-It's not waterproof.
IowaFan3
-YOU GUYS ARE IMPOSSIBLE!
*IowaFan3 Signs Out*
IronSights
-You guys should stop teasing her so much.
-Especially you, HoRdEpRiMe.
-She lives five minutes away from your house and knows what room you sleep in.
Cyron
-It'd watch out for spiders if I were you.
HoRdEpRiMe
-She can't put spiders in my bed if I don't sleep!
FredBurger
-...
-How many monsters have you had, exactly?
HoRdEpRiMe
-ALL OF THEM!
-I must do research.
-All the research!
Cyron
-The greatest advantage of having a shipgirl in our friend group is that we'll have someone that can restrain him when he's had too much caffeine, isn't it?
IronSights
-You're just now figuring this out?
-Still, disappointed that the tranquilizer was a waste of money.
Cyron
-What?
FredBurger
-I was making a joke!
-Why?
-We don't tranquilize our friends!
IronSights
-I know you were joking.
-I wasn't.
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Thank you to @Poggle The Lesser for adding this fic to the Here Thar be Shipgirls thread!
Drop them.
This was for a few reasons. The largest being with her arms wrapped around me as they were, I wasn't entirely sure it would be enough to dislodge her. Followed by picking up the clothes that could be spilled would prove, well, annoying.
Lastly? Despite being a stranger, she seemed, oddly familiar. Not the I've seen this person on TV familiar, but personally familiar. Yet I've never seen this lady in my life!
Was? Was she purring?
Okay, whoever she was, she was happy to see me. I scowled, gears in my brain beginning to shake off dust and cobwebs, slowly coming online. I knew her from somewhere. The ocean, I think. My sister, New Hampshire. She was with us. The convoys. Then there was the propeller and.
"South Carolina!" I gasped, mouth agape. This was the correct answer, as her bear hug only intensified. As the memory slipped into place, everything made a lot more sense. That would explain the sudden invasion of my arms.
Still. South Carolina. I didn't know she had been summoned. She was America's first dreadnought, after all.
She was our replacement. The reason we had been rendered.
Nope! I shoved that dark line of thought back into the recesses from which it came. I was not dealing with that right now. Technology advanced. Like it or not, times change. She likely had to deal with being made obsolete as well. I wasn't going to blame her for that.
"I'm so happy you remember me," her grin was like the radiant sun. No, it was bright. "People kept telling me you wouldn't, but you did."
"It's all a bit fuzzy," that wasn't entirely true. It was pretty much completely fuzzy. Outside of that nightmare, and little bits like this, it was just fog.
Plus, this was a bit awkward. What exactly is the protocol for this type of situation? Having someone just jump into my hands wasn't something I'd experienced before.
"But I kind of need to get my clothes situation dealt with," I nudged, trying my best to hint that I kind of wanted her to let go, without stating it outright. She looked at me for a second, before her mouth morphed.
"Oh. Of course," slowly, she untangled herself from around my frame, with me doing my best to guide her along. Once she was on her own two feet, I looked up at her tan face, mentally frowning. I was just getting used to being tall, damn it!
"Do you need a hand?" South Carolina extended her arm outward. I mean, it was my stuff, but if she wanted to help, I guess it shouldn't be a problem.
"Sure," I handed her a little less than half of my new clothes. Mostly out of my sense of pride. Sure, she offered to help me, and I certainly didn't want to come off as rude or insulting, but I still capable.
After all, I helped escort her home after she popped a propeller. I was supposed to aid her, not the other way around.
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Vestal took a sip from her jug of coffee, before placing it back on the table. Medusa had already passed out, but given the time difference between San Diego and New York, she couldn't fault her.
Nor could she fault many of the human engineers who had either gone home or simply fell asleep at their stations. They needed the sleep more, and Vestal preferred it that way. She'd seen what happened when they didn't get the rest they needed.
Honestly, compared to this, coming up with the retrofits and rebuilds of what the Admiralty called the 'little battleships' had been simple. Increasing thickness of the armor belt while making the shape of the hull more angular, replacing boilers and engines, upgrading and adding new equipment, adding anti-air emplacements, and of course, upgrades to the main guns. Of course, that was an oversimplification of all the upgrades and modifications given, but it was the standard.
Sadly, the Connecticut's were the first pre-dreadnoughts returned. More specifically, Kansas was. Meaning they were in uncharted territory. And a battleship with a hybrid armament such as the pre-dreadnaughts leads to considerable conundrums. The twelve-inch guns found on the Alaska and Gaum had already been modified and placed on South Carolina, and almost all designs concocted thus far made use of those twelve-inch batteries.
It was just a shame that outside of the twelve-inch guns, the removal of the casement batteries, and the various internal upgrades, none of the designs had anything in common.
Even one person tried to give her a schematic that called for thinning Kansas's armor belt. He'd take someone's 'like a Battle Monitor' comment a bit too literally.
She sent him home early. He seriously needed sleep by that point.
But there was too much confusion on what exactly to do. While little battleships had been a cute nickname from some of the earliest dreadnaughts, it was still accurate. They were just smaller battleships.
But there was a reason HMS Dreadnaught changed naval warfare. Despite filling the role of a capital ship, the pre-dreadnaughts were drastically different in design, and how they functioned in combat. Quite frankly, nobody living would understand how a pre-dreadnought would have fought.
Sure, some records would prove useful on that front. But finding digital military accounts proved difficult, and while some books were written on the subject, she'd prefer reports over anything else. But given the age of such reports, the hunt was still on for anything of use.
She was one of the few ships presently in the US fleet that had been laid down before the construction of America's first dreadnought. Well, there was the Consitution, but she doubted the ship would have relevant information on how pre-dreadnought's fought.
Vestal looked at the notes provided to her about Kansas's light retrofit. The five-inch guns had integrated well, but as for their placement? There could be improvements.
What worried her was the superstructure. Or more accurately, how little superstructure there was. The conning towers were likely going to be pitched entirely, and the smokestacks were also likely to be cut in number. That gave them room to expand, even if part of it was going to be dominated by radar and other equipment.
Anti-Air was the biggest concern. The basic plan for Kansas's armaments would be fine. South Carolina provided the base for the modified Mark 8 twelve-inch, and while some alterations would have to be made to the Mark 14 eight-inch, those were well within the realm of reality.
But the small handful of twin Bofors, not even quad Bofors, was insufficient. She understood the necessity of such modifications. Kansas's Anti-Air guns wouldn't have been able to shoot down a fly, much less a modern aircraft. Given the beating Kansas took, it probably helped set her mind at ease. She did not blame the older ship for that.
Still, as was, the forty-millimeter guns did not sit well with their current emplacement. With more superstructure, they would have the space for a few quad mountings, making it safer to replace her deck Bofor's with the smaller Oerlikons.
From there, things had devolved. Some designs called for thinning the armor to increase speed. Other's realized just how unlikely it was to get an increase even close to the Kongo's, preferring to double down on an even thicker and better-designed armor belt.
Quite frankly, Vestal was more inclined on the second line of thought. She pulled up a diagram of the Connecticut's original armor scheme. Yes, it was undoubtedly an older design, in desperate need of modernization, but it wasn't awful. At its thinnest, it matched the thickest parts of a Baltimore's armor belt. A class that had a length of more than two hundred feet greater. In fact, at its thickest, it was one inch thinner than the Hood. And Hood was larger still.
For ships of their size, Connecticut's had considerably heavy armor. Leaning into the strength would be wise. Especially as Vestal was uncertain that they would be able to fully address the issue of speed. Replacing the engines would certainly help fix parts of the issue, as would making the hull more streamlined.
Even with increasing the armor belt's thickness, they might be able to squeeze out a good four additional knots, five if they crossed their fingers. Not bad. If they weren't starting at eighteen knots.
Still, that would leave the Connecticut's speed completely lacking for reasonable carrier escort. That would put them at twenty-two knots, twenty-three at absolute best.
Meaning the average fleet carrier could leave them in the dust. Even light carriers would. That left seaplane tenders, and, by extension, Langley. But the former had numerous other possible escorts and the latter.
Like her, the converted coiler was kept off the front lines. Even if Langley didn't agree with the Admiralty, Vestal did see why they didn't want her near active combat zones unless they could help it. Even the upgrade to her engines that could get her close to eighteen knots wasn't healthy for her.
Which left her awaiting conversion into a helicopter carrier, but the technology was still considerably far out in shipgirl terms.
Vestal took another swig of coffee. Her mind was starting to wonder. Rarely a good sign. She could stay awake longer. Most shipgirls could stay awake for days, if not weeks at a time. Regardless, she knew such proved to be quite unhealthy.
Perhaps it was time to retire for the night.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
IowaFan3
-Is Kathrine okay?
-Seriously, I haven't heard anything much outside of the media storm.
-Haven't seen anything this saturated since Kansas City got summoned.
-And Kathrine hasn't responded either.
FredBurger
-I've tried contacting her brother about everything. No dice.
HoRdEpRiMe
-In bf Cyron says a lack of response is a response.
Cyron
-That says a lot right there.
-Fuck.
-How do you keep doing that?
HoRdEpRiMe
-Maybe stop being so predictable?
Cyron
-*Holds out middle finger*
IowaFan3
-Stop flirting you two, this is serious.
Cyron
-I'm not wrong.
-Seriously, the fact neither confirms nor denies is confirmation all of its own.
HoRdEpRiMe
-If they denied it, you'd take that as confirmation as well.
Cyron
-Again, I'm not wrong.
-Given how bad things went, the Navy's going to want to make sure all its ducks are in a row.
-I expect someone's losing a job over the next few days.
FredBurger
-I mean, have you guys seen the pictures?
-Cyron's right. If that is Kathrine, then things went south, fast.
-Someone messed up somewhere along the line, and their head will likely be on a pike.
-Too high profile for any other response.
IowaFan3
-So they can't just brush it under the rug?
Cyron
-At best this individual (whether or not she's Kathrine is still out) went out without, or even ignoring orders. Which would be on them.
-At worst?
-Someone ordered an untrained and underage shipgirl into the field, nearly getting them killed and wasting a valuable asset in the process.
-An event that could only be attributed to blistering incompetence or complete malicious intent.
-The Navy doesn't like either of those things.
-Especially when it comes to shipgirls.
IronSights
-Well, I'm convinced at this point.
-158009.jepg
-This was circling in one of the tabloids. The Navy might have gotten some of the mainstream to back off a bit.
IowaFan3
-That isn't Kathrine.
-Kathrine is nowhere near that tall.
HoRdEpRiMe
-You should look at the redhead standing next to her.
Cyron
-Could be edited.
-Though that does look like Kathrine's mom.
FredBurger
-What's with those little kids?
IronSights
-Destroyer screen.
-Duh.
Cryon
-Regardless, the whole shipgirl thing makes sense in hindsight.
IowaFan3
-What do you mean "in hindsight"?
FredBurger
-She likes to swim, for starters.
-But dunking her head underwater will result in the offending individual getting judo thrown.
-Isn't shipgirls hate being submerged a big give away?
-Unless you're a submarine?
Cyron
-Didn't forget that.
-But I was thinking of those night terrors.
-Remember that one time at D&D?
HoRdEpRiMe
-God, that was awful.
-That almost made me feel sick.
IronSights
-Yep. That. Wasn't pleasant to witness.
-On a more light-hearted note, which ship do you guys think she is?
HoRdEpRiMe
-Anything less than a Tillmen would be disappointing.
-Imagine, the look on the Navy's face if they managed to summon one of those.
Cyron
-It'd be the look of 'how dare that bastard shit on our plate again. He's supposed to be dead'.
-But in all seriousness?
-With that turret layout we've seen?
-Either an early era dreadnought, maybe even a pre-dreadnought.
IronSights
-Ouch.
-Kathrine sometimes seemed like she had an old soul, but I didn't think it was that old.
FredBurger
-*Spits drink out of mouth*
-Someone's sassy today.
IowaFan3
-Really? Is this where we're going to go?
Cyron
-I understand your concern, but she's likely fine at this point.
-If Ironsight's picture is of Kathrine, then she's completely healed up and likely not to see combat operation for some time.
-If it isn't, then the media may have misidentified her in the first place.
-Break will be ending soon. We'll find out one way or another shortly.
IowaFan3
-But what about?
HoRdEpRiMe
-You do realize whether or not Kathrine is now a shipgirl does not affect her being able to carry your around, right?
Cyron
-To be fair, that goes for everyone else besides me.
FredBurger
-Dear God, I just finished wiping off my screen.
-Please, stop.
-It's not waterproof.
IowaFan3
-YOU GUYS ARE IMPOSSIBLE!
*IowaFan3 Signs Out*
IronSights
-You guys should stop teasing her so much.
-Especially you, HoRdEpRiMe.
-She lives five minutes away from your house and knows what room you sleep in.
Cyron
-It'd watch out for spiders if I were you.
HoRdEpRiMe
-She can't put spiders in my bed if I don't sleep!
FredBurger
-...
-How many monsters have you had, exactly?
HoRdEpRiMe
-ALL OF THEM!
-I must do research.
-All the research!
Cyron
-The greatest advantage of having a shipgirl in our friend group is that we'll have someone that can restrain him when he's had too much caffeine, isn't it?
IronSights
-You're just now figuring this out?
-Still, disappointed that the tranquilizer was a waste of money.
Cyron
-What?
FredBurger
-I was making a joke!
-Why?
-We don't tranquilize our friends!
IronSights
-I know you were joking.
-I wasn't.
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Thank you to @Poggle The Lesser for adding this fic to the Here Thar be Shipgirls thread!
Chapter 9
BAM! BAM! BAM!
The sea around my target rolled in bursts of paint, with a few shells finding their target, covering it in splotches in blue. Already my crew was loading another salvo, as South Carolina fired hers. Several far-off targets erupted in paint, as she gave me a smug look.
Yes. I know. You have fire control systems. You can stop flexing on me, please, and thank you.
Still, I'd improved over the past few days. Probably wasn't going to get much better without the fire control systems, but at least I could hit the side of a barn now.
Yes, whether or not I could hit the side of a barn was the metric by which I considered an improvement.
Still, Admiral Kenneth made it sound like he had some surprise in store for me on one of the last few days.
Yeah, not how I expected spring break to go by any considerable amount. Of course, I doubted anyone could have expected this. If they could, I'd have serious questions for them.
South Carolina waved, singling to break off practice and return to base. I followed behind her, quickly noticing Admiral Kenneth on the docks. Beside him was a shipgirl, one I wasn't entirely familiar with. She certainly wasn't one of the base regulars, that was for sure.
A carrier of some sort, if her rigging was any indication, her flight deck taking the appearance of an oversized crossbow. Odd amongst US carriers, which should have helped identify her, but I was drawing a complete blank here. Almost embarrassing.
"South Carolina, Kansas," Admiral Kenneth spoke, as I nodded. "This is Ranger. She's volunteered to help Kansas with her anti-air defense practice. Consider this as your final stress test before you go to San Diego." Ranger curtsied, grinning slightly.
I nodded, as my crew began to move up the fake ammunition for the Bofors and five-inch guns. My anti-air upgrades had been pretty much neglected so far, despite being the most important upgrade I received. Which was understandable. Carriers were important, and being able to spare one for practice was probably a luxury outside of larger bases.
I wouldn't exactly call this fun, but unlike before I had the means to defend myself. So let's do this!
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"You need a bath," South Dakota's snicker was as it usually was, teasing, but soft. Akin to friendly ribbing.
"No, what I need is a shower," I groaned. That could have gone better. Much better. Though, South Carolina wasn't unscathed from Ranger's ariel onslaught, either. Practice was going to be a must though going forward. And more anti-air. Much more anti-air.
I was thankful that the compounds in the paint broke down quickly because even if my first instinct was to find a shower, tracking paint through the base wouldn't be good.
"Sorry I wasn't able to distract enough of them," the only thing stopping South Carolina from clinging to me was the paint. I could just tell she was itching to give me a bear hug. I could already tell one was in my future.
"It's fine," I shrugged. I'd take any amount of paint over what happened last time bombs started dropping. That wasn't great. Though the torpedos were worse. Even the paint ones stung a bit. To be fair, my torpedo protection belt was probably nonexistent.
"Come on. There's one last surprise for you," South Dakota was checky. Whatever the surprise was, she was quite excited about it. Might as well see what it was.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
"I trust the report got to you in good order?" Kenneth looked at the screen, as Vestal flipped through the file in her hand.
"It has," she placed the folder down, "though it only confirms my initial suspicions. I understand that it was a bit of a rush job, but it's sadly inadequate."
Kenneth frowned. He expected it wouldn't be enough, at the end of the day. But she had managed to knock down a few planes. Less than half of what South Carolina managed. Still, there was the simple issue of avoiding. Kathrine was slow, making such maneuvering difficult. Of course, anti-air would be much improved once the proper directors were added.
"Honestly, outside of showing just how desperately she needs a proper torpedo belt, that's going to depend on design. And sadly, speed is always going to be an issue, outside of the designs that strip down the armor belt, which is, quite frankly, counterproductive," Vestal took a swig of coffee, before pausing for a moment. "No offense to you and your teams, of course."
Kenneth shook his head. Sure, he knew Vestal didn't mean anything by her previous remarks, but he certainly wouldn't be sharing them, either.
His ear's pricked for a moment. Well, it seems like the surprise was revealed. He smiled. A going-away party wasn't entirely out of the question. He did hope they had fun. Hopefully, things didn't get too out of hand.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
"Surprise!" the mess hall was full of streamers, balloons, alongside numerous other party stuff. Some were blatantly reused from the previous one, but the gesture was appreciated.
A going-away party? I blinked, doing a little wave toward the rest of my family was also nearby.
"This is for me?" I looked around, considerably surprised. I recognized just about everyone. Nicholas was asleep in the corner, snoring away, though I had no doubts that she would eventually wake. Strong and Kid were hanging around one another, both having put down whatever game system they had managed to wrangle into the room.
Heck, even Dallas was here. Though, that was interesting. I made a quick mental note to file that away for possible ribbing purposes. Later, of course. Because what type of big sister would I otherwise be?
"Yep. A bit of a proper sendoff before you head out to San Deigo," South Dakota grinned. "Well, I mean, you are spending some type back home, if I understand things correctly, but that's where you're ultimately going."
She wasn't wrong about being at home bit. This was a major move that required major packing. Even if I had family in the area, there was still a lot I needed to bring with me. Plus, even with the advantages being a shipgirl had when it came to school transfers, that would still take time.
What? Shipgirls still needed education, and in someone's wisdom, they realized having idle shipgirl hands was a bad thing. Especially natural-borns, who were already used to the whole school thing. Mostly for us still underage. Plus, I'd need something to dominate my time besides practice. Because, you know. Idle hands and all that.
Okay, it was long past time to digress and have some fun!
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
"Hey! That's cheating!" I smirked at Denver's protest as I zipped past her. She was the one that laughed at my choice of cart. Now I think I was going to laugh at her when I ended up taking the gold medal for this race.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
"Well, this game is," I bit my tongue. My friends were right. I could see how this game could kill friendships quite trivially. Thankfully, I'd managed to get most of my competitiveness out of my system with the previous game. Though I think everyone was trying to get payback on me for that fiasco.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
"So close," South Dakota hissed, as I knocked her off the edge. "How did you get so good at this?"
"It's a popular game among my friend group," I shrugged. Normally I wasn't good at fighting games, but these always tended to be more party game than a fighter.
By this point, the night had already set in, and unlike before, the cruisers had already escorted the destroyers away for the night. A few had made their return, but not all of them, though I was considering joining them. Jet lag was a pain in the rear, and I'd rather start the process of correcting now, rather than later. Even an hour could be disrupting.
Plus, I didn't trust that cheeky look on Ranger's face. There was just something smug about it. Like she was taking a headcount. For what, I had no idea of knowing. Though if I stuck around for long enough, I was probably going to find out.
"Who wants alcohol!" or I was going to find out right now.
Well, that was probably a sign I should beat a hasty retreat back to my lodgings.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x
"What time did you turn in?" my mother asked me as I stirred. "I didn't hear you come in for the night."
"Around midnight," I stretched, stifling a yawn. "Ranger thought it was a good idea to break out the alcohol, so I left." Yeah, there was no sense in hiding that one from her. Mom was going to find out the moment she hit the mess hall.
"Did you?" I groaned, already knowing where this was going.
"No mom. I just left. Seriously, with all the horror stories dad told me about how much he drank before the two of you started dating, why would I? I have better things I can do with my time than shoveling rotting plant matter into my body," I felt my crew practically recoil in horror at that remark. Overreaction much?
"Okay, okay. I trust you. I'm just worried is all," I had to chomp down on the urge to roll my eyes at that remark. I was more than capable of taking care of myself. "Did anything else happen that you noticed?"
"Well, South Dakota was chasting Ranger about it, though I'm pretty sure a few people were scrambling to keep South Carolina from getting any of it," I paused, thinking back. "Something about her being a kiss drunk?"
On that front, I wasn't entirely sure. Though as we entered the mess, it might be accurate, as the battleship was tied to a chair with a sign attached.
"That's, interesting," my mom commented, before looking up. "Is that?"
"Just don't question it," I'm not sure how Pheonix got attached to the ceiling, but I certainly didn't want to find out about that, either.
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Given how our flight was still out of Orlando, that meant we ultimately had to get moving pretty quickly. It was under escort, something I found personally excessive if little else. South Carolina had also joined us, but that was explicitly temporary.
The latter I didn't mind. Even if it was a bit more just enjoying her company than active conversation. South Dakota couldn't join us, given she had other responsibilities. But we'd both promised to keep in touch, even if we would ultimately be stuck on opposite ends of the continent.
Of course, I thought the whole escort thing was overkill until we started getting close to the airport. Sure, we hadn't come this way in quite some time, but unless I was missing something, there normally weren't this many vans. They looked like, news vans.
Wait? News? I did a double-take at one, noticing the logo. Well, that was great.
"Is something wrong?" South Carolina had to have noticed my double-take. I mean, she was right next to me, so how could she not?
"News vans," I frowned, peeking my head around, noticing a few others on either side. "A lot of news vans." I bent my head backward, hoping to avoid any possible camera's outside.
"Them? They never hurt anyone. They can be a bit a pain, okay, a very large pain," South Carolina started as I looked down at my feet. Quite frankly, that wasn't what I cared about. I just didn't want hundreds of strangers shouting questions at me. That was not the type of attention I wanted.
"Wait, are you?" I could hear the gears in South Carlonia's mind turning. Wait, no. Please no. I could already tell where this is going. I've seen enough anime to know where this was going. The only thing saving me from a seventeen thousand-ton hug was the seatbelts.
"Are you shy?" I turned my head, blushing slightly. Shy was not the word I'd used to describe myself. Shy implied not wanting to meet new people. Not wanted to deal with a writhing throng of flashing lights and noise was something completely different.
Clearly, this was not a sentiment South Carolina shared as she cackled.
"No. I just don't want to deal with all of it," I waved my hands around, trying to avoid striking anyone on accident. "This." The airport we were going to was already enough of a crowded mess under normal circumstances, as I recalled. Things may have changed since the last time we were here, but I doubted it.
"Well, you won't have much to worry about. They won't be able to follow where we're going," South Carolina looked smug, winking at me.
Wait? I thought we were going to the airport for our regular flight? What was something them from just following us?
Unless we weren't going by a commercial airline. Which was a fair share of money down the drain, given we already purchased tickets for the return flight.
"So, where are we going then?" I asked, turning my head slightly.
"It's a surprise, silly," South Carolina put a finger to her lips.
Well, that was great and all, but I'd really like some useful information.
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"I think this is the place," eventually, my father came to a stop, putting our rental car in park.
Yeah, this wasn't our usual destination. Of course, that had become apparent once we started going through checkpoints. It took a few moments for us to begin disembarking and grabbing our luggage.
Well, the rest of my family was. In terms of luggage capacity, well, it was safe to say I had plenty of room to spare. The mundane utility is insane. I didn't have to carry things anymore! Well, outside of a few circumstances. But otherwise, I'd just be able to store it all in my hull.
This would make the move out to California much easier. Seriously. I could just take my entire bed with me without the need to take the whole thing apart. Given how the thing doubled as my dresser, that would be especially nice. Could bring my desk along pretty easily as well. Not to mention the books. Even if I wasn't as much of an avid reader, I'd probably find a use for them.
But that was a future problem. Not a particularly hard one at that.
As for the plane? It looked like a standard plane. Just a bigger commercial airliner. Though if I recalled what military transport birds looked like from the inside, it wasn't going to be a comfy ride.
Of course, that I could live with. Though that raised a few questions about how they planned to get me to California. Was it going to be like this? Or was a civilian flight going to be used?
Again, more future problems. Not a particularly big deal, one way or another. The latter would be more comfortable, but there was something to be said about not being stared at like a fish in an aquarium.
Several things, in truth.
"Everything ready to go?" one of the soldiers approached us. Pretty much. There was just one last person I needed to say goodbye to.
She's currently got my lungs in a death grip, though, which put a considerable damper on that ability.
"I'm going to miss you!" holy crap, I could feel the wind being forced from my lungs. This was insane!
"South. Carolina. I still need air," I rasped, finally dislodging the crushing squeeze.
"Sorry!" she apologized as I sucked in air like a vacuum.
I promised to keep in touch though.
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I'm not surprised by this. Merely disappointed.
Of course, it wasn't like I wasn't going to have to shop for new clothes anyway, given the growing I'd done.
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"Why is everyone staring at me?" the question was purely rhetorical, of course. It didn't take a genius to figure out exactly why I'd been feeling just about everyone's gazes burning a hole in my skull. Even if they hadn't been paying attention to the news, an unlikely event as is, the fact I was nearly six foot was enough of a change to draw attention by itself.
"I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact you're now a six-foot amazon that could bench our entire football team," Keith's eyes were rolling so hard they could have been mistaken for orbits. "Or the fact your lunchbox nearly tripled in size."
Okay, those were two valid and fair points. Didn't mean I had to like it.
"So which ship, Ow!" Jacob was interrupted by a solid elbow in the arm by Jacquline.
"Rude!" she snapped, shooting him a harsh glare of her own. One he returned while rubbing his arm, but remained quiet. "Kathrine might not be able to talk about it."
Ah, I see. She was worried about me.
"Kansas," I said faintly, making sure nobody beyond the table could hear me. Sure, the cat was out of the bag, but no sense in leading everyone to its location.
"Dang. You always acted like you had an old soul, but I didn't think it was that old," Keith muttered under his breath, shaking his head.
"That would explain why you got your butt kicked so hard," I shot Nathen a glare, as did just about everyone else.
"So, if that's the case, how long are you going to be staying here?" I raised an eyebrow. Jacob was not typically the person to ask questions like that.
"Probably a week or two. I have to transfer schools and all that fun stuff," sure the schools around here were great, but not particularly built for shipgirls who could be away for weeks to months at a time. Plus, they were lacking major online amenities.
There were a few years before that would become an issue. If ever, in this timeline.
I prayed for the latter of the two options.
"So we have some time to have a bit of fun before you head out," Keith nodded, already jotting down notes.
"Sadly, part of that time is going to be getting new clothes," Jacquline's eyes began to sparkle. "Don't get your hopes up. It's mostly to replace everything."
"Understandable. You've done a bit of growing," Nathen nodded.
"Growing's only part of the issue," I rolled my eyes. "It has more to do with the fact most of my clothes converted into dresses." Keith mouthed something about magical shipgirl bs, as Jacob let out a howl of laughter.
"Oh, that's something I've got to see!" he cackled.
"Please. You've seen me in a dress before," I crossed my arms, resisting the urge to smack him upside the head.
"What!" Jacquiline nearly smacked the table. "When was this?"
Oh, right, Jacquiline had been inducted into our friend group after we decided school dances and the like were a waste of time. That's a bit silly of me to forget.
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Despite everything, we remained close to home. Nothing too major. I was effectively off the cross country team anyway. Being a shipgirl was by all means classified as an unfair advantage. Well, not in the writing of the rules, but I didn't care much for violating the spirit, either.
Because if my participation wasn't breaking that much in half, then I didn't know what was.
We certainly tried to make the most of it. Group hangouts, full of plenty of games. Even a LAN party towards the end. Though I was a bit surprised seeing my older sister already being added to World of Warship's tech-tree.
But it wasn't going to last, and we all knew it. Naturally, we would all try to keep in touch, but our means of mass communication were considerably archaic. The war knocked back discords development, if I recalled correctly, leaving us with Skype and freaking Vent!
Many hugs were had, tears were shed, with family and friends alike. I did my best to avoid recreating what South Carolina did to me, but the results were mixed.
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Slowly, I made my way from the terminal. Okay, they should be here by now, so why couldn't I see them?
The pattering of feet reached my ears, turning around in the nick of time to catch two pre-teens as they flung themselves at me.
"Kathrine!"
The sea around my target rolled in bursts of paint, with a few shells finding their target, covering it in splotches in blue. Already my crew was loading another salvo, as South Carolina fired hers. Several far-off targets erupted in paint, as she gave me a smug look.
Yes. I know. You have fire control systems. You can stop flexing on me, please, and thank you.
Still, I'd improved over the past few days. Probably wasn't going to get much better without the fire control systems, but at least I could hit the side of a barn now.
Yes, whether or not I could hit the side of a barn was the metric by which I considered an improvement.
Still, Admiral Kenneth made it sound like he had some surprise in store for me on one of the last few days.
Yeah, not how I expected spring break to go by any considerable amount. Of course, I doubted anyone could have expected this. If they could, I'd have serious questions for them.
South Carolina waved, singling to break off practice and return to base. I followed behind her, quickly noticing Admiral Kenneth on the docks. Beside him was a shipgirl, one I wasn't entirely familiar with. She certainly wasn't one of the base regulars, that was for sure.
A carrier of some sort, if her rigging was any indication, her flight deck taking the appearance of an oversized crossbow. Odd amongst US carriers, which should have helped identify her, but I was drawing a complete blank here. Almost embarrassing.
"South Carolina, Kansas," Admiral Kenneth spoke, as I nodded. "This is Ranger. She's volunteered to help Kansas with her anti-air defense practice. Consider this as your final stress test before you go to San Diego." Ranger curtsied, grinning slightly.
I nodded, as my crew began to move up the fake ammunition for the Bofors and five-inch guns. My anti-air upgrades had been pretty much neglected so far, despite being the most important upgrade I received. Which was understandable. Carriers were important, and being able to spare one for practice was probably a luxury outside of larger bases.
I wouldn't exactly call this fun, but unlike before I had the means to defend myself. So let's do this!
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"You need a bath," South Dakota's snicker was as it usually was, teasing, but soft. Akin to friendly ribbing.
"No, what I need is a shower," I groaned. That could have gone better. Much better. Though, South Carolina wasn't unscathed from Ranger's ariel onslaught, either. Practice was going to be a must though going forward. And more anti-air. Much more anti-air.
I was thankful that the compounds in the paint broke down quickly because even if my first instinct was to find a shower, tracking paint through the base wouldn't be good.
"Sorry I wasn't able to distract enough of them," the only thing stopping South Carolina from clinging to me was the paint. I could just tell she was itching to give me a bear hug. I could already tell one was in my future.
"It's fine," I shrugged. I'd take any amount of paint over what happened last time bombs started dropping. That wasn't great. Though the torpedos were worse. Even the paint ones stung a bit. To be fair, my torpedo protection belt was probably nonexistent.
"Come on. There's one last surprise for you," South Dakota was checky. Whatever the surprise was, she was quite excited about it. Might as well see what it was.
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"I trust the report got to you in good order?" Kenneth looked at the screen, as Vestal flipped through the file in her hand.
"It has," she placed the folder down, "though it only confirms my initial suspicions. I understand that it was a bit of a rush job, but it's sadly inadequate."
Kenneth frowned. He expected it wouldn't be enough, at the end of the day. But she had managed to knock down a few planes. Less than half of what South Carolina managed. Still, there was the simple issue of avoiding. Kathrine was slow, making such maneuvering difficult. Of course, anti-air would be much improved once the proper directors were added.
"Honestly, outside of showing just how desperately she needs a proper torpedo belt, that's going to depend on design. And sadly, speed is always going to be an issue, outside of the designs that strip down the armor belt, which is, quite frankly, counterproductive," Vestal took a swig of coffee, before pausing for a moment. "No offense to you and your teams, of course."
Kenneth shook his head. Sure, he knew Vestal didn't mean anything by her previous remarks, but he certainly wouldn't be sharing them, either.
His ear's pricked for a moment. Well, it seems like the surprise was revealed. He smiled. A going-away party wasn't entirely out of the question. He did hope they had fun. Hopefully, things didn't get too out of hand.
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"Surprise!" the mess hall was full of streamers, balloons, alongside numerous other party stuff. Some were blatantly reused from the previous one, but the gesture was appreciated.
A going-away party? I blinked, doing a little wave toward the rest of my family was also nearby.
"This is for me?" I looked around, considerably surprised. I recognized just about everyone. Nicholas was asleep in the corner, snoring away, though I had no doubts that she would eventually wake. Strong and Kid were hanging around one another, both having put down whatever game system they had managed to wrangle into the room.
Heck, even Dallas was here. Though, that was interesting. I made a quick mental note to file that away for possible ribbing purposes. Later, of course. Because what type of big sister would I otherwise be?
"Yep. A bit of a proper sendoff before you head out to San Deigo," South Dakota grinned. "Well, I mean, you are spending some type back home, if I understand things correctly, but that's where you're ultimately going."
She wasn't wrong about being at home bit. This was a major move that required major packing. Even if I had family in the area, there was still a lot I needed to bring with me. Plus, even with the advantages being a shipgirl had when it came to school transfers, that would still take time.
What? Shipgirls still needed education, and in someone's wisdom, they realized having idle shipgirl hands was a bad thing. Especially natural-borns, who were already used to the whole school thing. Mostly for us still underage. Plus, I'd need something to dominate my time besides practice. Because, you know. Idle hands and all that.
Okay, it was long past time to digress and have some fun!
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"Hey! That's cheating!" I smirked at Denver's protest as I zipped past her. She was the one that laughed at my choice of cart. Now I think I was going to laugh at her when I ended up taking the gold medal for this race.
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"Well, this game is," I bit my tongue. My friends were right. I could see how this game could kill friendships quite trivially. Thankfully, I'd managed to get most of my competitiveness out of my system with the previous game. Though I think everyone was trying to get payback on me for that fiasco.
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"So close," South Dakota hissed, as I knocked her off the edge. "How did you get so good at this?"
"It's a popular game among my friend group," I shrugged. Normally I wasn't good at fighting games, but these always tended to be more party game than a fighter.
By this point, the night had already set in, and unlike before, the cruisers had already escorted the destroyers away for the night. A few had made their return, but not all of them, though I was considering joining them. Jet lag was a pain in the rear, and I'd rather start the process of correcting now, rather than later. Even an hour could be disrupting.
Plus, I didn't trust that cheeky look on Ranger's face. There was just something smug about it. Like she was taking a headcount. For what, I had no idea of knowing. Though if I stuck around for long enough, I was probably going to find out.
"Who wants alcohol!" or I was going to find out right now.
Well, that was probably a sign I should beat a hasty retreat back to my lodgings.
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"What time did you turn in?" my mother asked me as I stirred. "I didn't hear you come in for the night."
"Around midnight," I stretched, stifling a yawn. "Ranger thought it was a good idea to break out the alcohol, so I left." Yeah, there was no sense in hiding that one from her. Mom was going to find out the moment she hit the mess hall.
"Did you?" I groaned, already knowing where this was going.
"No mom. I just left. Seriously, with all the horror stories dad told me about how much he drank before the two of you started dating, why would I? I have better things I can do with my time than shoveling rotting plant matter into my body," I felt my crew practically recoil in horror at that remark. Overreaction much?
"Okay, okay. I trust you. I'm just worried is all," I had to chomp down on the urge to roll my eyes at that remark. I was more than capable of taking care of myself. "Did anything else happen that you noticed?"
"Well, South Dakota was chasting Ranger about it, though I'm pretty sure a few people were scrambling to keep South Carolina from getting any of it," I paused, thinking back. "Something about her being a kiss drunk?"
On that front, I wasn't entirely sure. Though as we entered the mess, it might be accurate, as the battleship was tied to a chair with a sign attached.
"That's, interesting," my mom commented, before looking up. "Is that?"
"Just don't question it," I'm not sure how Pheonix got attached to the ceiling, but I certainly didn't want to find out about that, either.
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Given how our flight was still out of Orlando, that meant we ultimately had to get moving pretty quickly. It was under escort, something I found personally excessive if little else. South Carolina had also joined us, but that was explicitly temporary.
The latter I didn't mind. Even if it was a bit more just enjoying her company than active conversation. South Dakota couldn't join us, given she had other responsibilities. But we'd both promised to keep in touch, even if we would ultimately be stuck on opposite ends of the continent.
Of course, I thought the whole escort thing was overkill until we started getting close to the airport. Sure, we hadn't come this way in quite some time, but unless I was missing something, there normally weren't this many vans. They looked like, news vans.
Wait? News? I did a double-take at one, noticing the logo. Well, that was great.
"Is something wrong?" South Carolina had to have noticed my double-take. I mean, she was right next to me, so how could she not?
"News vans," I frowned, peeking my head around, noticing a few others on either side. "A lot of news vans." I bent my head backward, hoping to avoid any possible camera's outside.
"Them? They never hurt anyone. They can be a bit a pain, okay, a very large pain," South Carolina started as I looked down at my feet. Quite frankly, that wasn't what I cared about. I just didn't want hundreds of strangers shouting questions at me. That was not the type of attention I wanted.
"Wait, are you?" I could hear the gears in South Carlonia's mind turning. Wait, no. Please no. I could already tell where this is going. I've seen enough anime to know where this was going. The only thing saving me from a seventeen thousand-ton hug was the seatbelts.
"Are you shy?" I turned my head, blushing slightly. Shy was not the word I'd used to describe myself. Shy implied not wanting to meet new people. Not wanted to deal with a writhing throng of flashing lights and noise was something completely different.
Clearly, this was not a sentiment South Carolina shared as she cackled.
"No. I just don't want to deal with all of it," I waved my hands around, trying to avoid striking anyone on accident. "This." The airport we were going to was already enough of a crowded mess under normal circumstances, as I recalled. Things may have changed since the last time we were here, but I doubted it.
"Well, you won't have much to worry about. They won't be able to follow where we're going," South Carolina looked smug, winking at me.
Wait? I thought we were going to the airport for our regular flight? What was something them from just following us?
Unless we weren't going by a commercial airline. Which was a fair share of money down the drain, given we already purchased tickets for the return flight.
"So, where are we going then?" I asked, turning my head slightly.
"It's a surprise, silly," South Carolina put a finger to her lips.
Well, that was great and all, but I'd really like some useful information.
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"I think this is the place," eventually, my father came to a stop, putting our rental car in park.
Yeah, this wasn't our usual destination. Of course, that had become apparent once we started going through checkpoints. It took a few moments for us to begin disembarking and grabbing our luggage.
Well, the rest of my family was. In terms of luggage capacity, well, it was safe to say I had plenty of room to spare. The mundane utility is insane. I didn't have to carry things anymore! Well, outside of a few circumstances. But otherwise, I'd just be able to store it all in my hull.
This would make the move out to California much easier. Seriously. I could just take my entire bed with me without the need to take the whole thing apart. Given how the thing doubled as my dresser, that would be especially nice. Could bring my desk along pretty easily as well. Not to mention the books. Even if I wasn't as much of an avid reader, I'd probably find a use for them.
But that was a future problem. Not a particularly hard one at that.
As for the plane? It looked like a standard plane. Just a bigger commercial airliner. Though if I recalled what military transport birds looked like from the inside, it wasn't going to be a comfy ride.
Of course, that I could live with. Though that raised a few questions about how they planned to get me to California. Was it going to be like this? Or was a civilian flight going to be used?
Again, more future problems. Not a particularly big deal, one way or another. The latter would be more comfortable, but there was something to be said about not being stared at like a fish in an aquarium.
Several things, in truth.
"Everything ready to go?" one of the soldiers approached us. Pretty much. There was just one last person I needed to say goodbye to.
She's currently got my lungs in a death grip, though, which put a considerable damper on that ability.
"I'm going to miss you!" holy crap, I could feel the wind being forced from my lungs. This was insane!
"South. Carolina. I still need air," I rasped, finally dislodging the crushing squeeze.
"Sorry!" she apologized as I sucked in air like a vacuum.
I promised to keep in touch though.
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I'm not surprised by this. Merely disappointed.
Of course, it wasn't like I wasn't going to have to shop for new clothes anyway, given the growing I'd done.
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"Why is everyone staring at me?" the question was purely rhetorical, of course. It didn't take a genius to figure out exactly why I'd been feeling just about everyone's gazes burning a hole in my skull. Even if they hadn't been paying attention to the news, an unlikely event as is, the fact I was nearly six foot was enough of a change to draw attention by itself.
"I'm sure it has nothing to do with the fact you're now a six-foot amazon that could bench our entire football team," Keith's eyes were rolling so hard they could have been mistaken for orbits. "Or the fact your lunchbox nearly tripled in size."
Okay, those were two valid and fair points. Didn't mean I had to like it.
"So which ship, Ow!" Jacob was interrupted by a solid elbow in the arm by Jacquline.
"Rude!" she snapped, shooting him a harsh glare of her own. One he returned while rubbing his arm, but remained quiet. "Kathrine might not be able to talk about it."
Ah, I see. She was worried about me.
"Kansas," I said faintly, making sure nobody beyond the table could hear me. Sure, the cat was out of the bag, but no sense in leading everyone to its location.
"Dang. You always acted like you had an old soul, but I didn't think it was that old," Keith muttered under his breath, shaking his head.
"That would explain why you got your butt kicked so hard," I shot Nathen a glare, as did just about everyone else.
"So, if that's the case, how long are you going to be staying here?" I raised an eyebrow. Jacob was not typically the person to ask questions like that.
"Probably a week or two. I have to transfer schools and all that fun stuff," sure the schools around here were great, but not particularly built for shipgirls who could be away for weeks to months at a time. Plus, they were lacking major online amenities.
There were a few years before that would become an issue. If ever, in this timeline.
I prayed for the latter of the two options.
"So we have some time to have a bit of fun before you head out," Keith nodded, already jotting down notes.
"Sadly, part of that time is going to be getting new clothes," Jacquline's eyes began to sparkle. "Don't get your hopes up. It's mostly to replace everything."
"Understandable. You've done a bit of growing," Nathen nodded.
"Growing's only part of the issue," I rolled my eyes. "It has more to do with the fact most of my clothes converted into dresses." Keith mouthed something about magical shipgirl bs, as Jacob let out a howl of laughter.
"Oh, that's something I've got to see!" he cackled.
"Please. You've seen me in a dress before," I crossed my arms, resisting the urge to smack him upside the head.
"What!" Jacquiline nearly smacked the table. "When was this?"
Oh, right, Jacquiline had been inducted into our friend group after we decided school dances and the like were a waste of time. That's a bit silly of me to forget.
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Despite everything, we remained close to home. Nothing too major. I was effectively off the cross country team anyway. Being a shipgirl was by all means classified as an unfair advantage. Well, not in the writing of the rules, but I didn't care much for violating the spirit, either.
Because if my participation wasn't breaking that much in half, then I didn't know what was.
We certainly tried to make the most of it. Group hangouts, full of plenty of games. Even a LAN party towards the end. Though I was a bit surprised seeing my older sister already being added to World of Warship's tech-tree.
But it wasn't going to last, and we all knew it. Naturally, we would all try to keep in touch, but our means of mass communication were considerably archaic. The war knocked back discords development, if I recalled correctly, leaving us with Skype and freaking Vent!
Many hugs were had, tears were shed, with family and friends alike. I did my best to avoid recreating what South Carolina did to me, but the results were mixed.
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Slowly, I made my way from the terminal. Okay, they should be here by now, so why couldn't I see them?
The pattering of feet reached my ears, turning around in the nick of time to catch two pre-teens as they flung themselves at me.
"Kathrine!"