Chapter 14: Fever

News spread across Midway, slowly at first. Girls streaming out of the lunch room. Others going there. The rush of a girls hurried steps to the long range coms. Murmurs, rumors. A girl had collapsed. It was just Bertha. Who? The fat freighter. Some ignored it, others didn't.

In the barracks built for the East Fleet, there was a room. One reserved for Big Bertha. One she'd never been in, because Sapphire wanted to reward Bertha with a home after her sea trials, make her feel like part of the fleet. But Bertha left the lagoon without an escort, so Sapphire put it off for getting her in hot water with the Princess. With all the war preparations and just how much of a sulking, stubborn child Sapphire considered Bertha, the opportunity never came up, and the room slipped her mind. Someone would tell her, right? Someone should already have told her. Bertha wasn't complaining about having nowhere to sleep. It was fine. But with the rush to organize the new advance on Japan, things had slipped through the cracks. None of them were friends with her.

No one saw her coming or going, but Bertha kept a weird schedule anyway. She'd be up all day. Everyone would get up as the Sun began to fall and Bertha would already be up, playing with her pets. A few of the girls who liked her cooking left her gifts near the beginning, a welcome to the fleet kind of thing, but Bertha never said anything, the gifts untouched. No thanks, nothing. If she was too good for them, well they weren't going to take a freighter snubbing them laying down. If she didn't want to be friends, well that was just fine. Who needs a freighter anyway?

Sachi was… special. When Sachi heard the new girl was finally out of her trial period and was moving in, she went around figuring out how to switch rooms so they could be next to each other. Sachi loved welcoming new girls to the fleet. She liked cooking and cleaning and being useful because Sachi wasn't a great ship. She was old and not skilled enough to justify refits. Not worth the investment. Besides, if she got them Sachi would be sent to the front lines again. No one wanted that.

Sachi was feeling like the most useless cruiser who ever sailed. Her friends had gone out and so many of them were missing now. Midway was going to fix it, but she felt like a failure not having been there for them. But Sachi had a plan. She was making a re-summoning party!

She'd pilfered supplies from the kitchens and was making some of her famous Sachi noodles. A few of her monster friends had spent that last couple days catching fishes for her and she'd left them in small pool outside the beach house so they'd been nice and fresh for everyone after they woke up. They were always grumpy coming right out of the Abyss and nothing worked to remind the girls there were back like a nice hot meal.

Sachi was in the middle of checking on her party supplies when Amelie came around the corner. She was walking somewhere fast and her eyes lit up where she found Sachi. Sachi waved. It was polite, even if she needed to fix this table leg.

"Sachi. There you are, I've been looking for you all over. Come on, now, quick and quiet. We've got a patrol to get to. Come on, come on."
The carrier swept in and Sachi was heading for her room before she knew it. She was a bit confused.

"But I have everything I need for a patrol, Lie-chan?" she asked.
"And I was just a call away." she wondered.
"Hush, hush. No lip from you young lady." the German-accented carrier chided.

They got to her rooms quick, Amelie was just walking but Sachi had to scurry to keep up. She'd rarely seen the carrier move so quick while looking that relaxed. Usually Amelie only hurried when there was trouble.

Sachi was quick. She left the nails and glue in her room and grabbed some extra rations and a thermos to keep everything nice and warm. On further thought Sachi also packed her cooking bag, maybe she'd get the chance to use it again.

Amelie looked at her, carefully biting her lip, before bending down to whisper in her ear.
"Take your treasures, Sachi." she ordered with a wobbly smile.

Sachi felt cold. She quickly nodded and pried up the floor in the corner of her room. After a few quick scoops, the sailor's case came out of the ground beneath the wooden floor and she opened it to check everything was there. Several comics, Mr Mushi, a well-worn and cared for plushy rabbit. He was a rabbit, not a bunny, Sachi would correct everyone. She had to hide him, because there were girls who through they were tough and mean and that those two were the same and he'd already lost one ear. He couldn't lose the other, he'd be deaf, but Sachi loved him to bits.

The final item was a dress woven from dried sea-grass, clams and shells and stringy tree bits. It was nice and Sachi loved wearing it, even if she had to keep it to her room, or one of the bigger girls would take it. A lot of girls had new dresses on Midway. Sachi was just glad they got cheap enough she could get one. And these were different. Human clothes tore at the slightest touch. Usually only a Flag or a Princess could afford to have clothes and keep replacing them, apart from their rigging and swimwear. Sachi didn't know why swimwear was, different, it had something to do with the sea.

The subs looked really silly in full body diving suits though. Sachi giggled and caught the reproachful look from Amelie.

"Sorry." she apologized and packed her case in her travel bag. Amelia took her hand and led her out to sea. Sachi worried. If Lie-chan was worried, Sachi was worried. They hit the open sea.

"Where are we going?" Sachi asked, knowing this wasn't a patrol. Her radar could pick them up. In ones and twos, girls were scattering from Midway, those in the lead taking the usual patrol routs out, but more just setting sail. Everyone was keeping away from each other. It felt wrong, they were supposed to be a fleet.

"Havaii" Amelia answered. "We'll go to Havaii and re-access. Hopefully everything will be cleared out by then. Anyway, I'm sure Acapulco is nice this time of year."
Sachi felt like her legs had become anchors. "But what about everyone?"
Everyone Midway was supposed to call back? Her fleet, her friends?

Amelia grimaced. "We'll figure something out if we have to. I'm sure it won't come to that." she said, like she was trying to convince herself.

"What happened?" Sachi asked, slumping, letting Amelia all but tow her.
Amelia swallowed. Once, twice. "A girl got sick." she finally said.
"Oh." Sachi replied.

Then she started sailing again and soon the cruiser was towing the carrier, pulling away. Neither one said what each knew. If it came to that, they'd blow themselves up first. Midway wouldn't let that happen, right? She was the Perfect Princess.

• •

Taylor remembered this. The Light cruiser that tried to flatter and manipulate her into lowering her price and get her to work for nothing. Did she think Taylor was a fool? She got her payment and managed to convince the gullible girl to pay extra. Seriously, like Taylor couldn't see right through her.

"Your hair is really pretty. I know your work a lot in the kitchens. I've been cooking lots so maybe later you could come over and I could teach you? "

Like she'd fall for that. Let her mock and belittle her cooking as some twisted way to make herself feel better. The cruiser had just wanted something from her, but at least that one had had the common decency to pay Taylor. Yet as the dream spun and played again, it was different.

Where once she saw malice and greed in the cruisers eyes, now only sincerity shined. Her smiles no longer reminded Taylor of Emma, but were tentative. Like Aisha, when she thought no one could see her. Like some of the kids post Leviatan, when she showed up with supplies.

And Taylor wondered if the made up story about switching rooms to be next to her was made up. If the invitation to teach her cooking wasn't genuine. Because Taylor didn't have a room, yet when the girl talked about coming over, there was nothing but sincere hope, like it would mean the world to her if she could come visit. When before Taylor had read her as trying to manipulate her, get on her good side for a discount. Dreams didn't make sense. Why were they all doubled, each repeated but different on the repeat?

One of the Abyssal monsters as she'd known them the entirety of her new life, un-repentant abusers, bitches, cold hearted monsters who enjoyed the pain they caused. The other as some… something else. You'd think it would make sense, or make them perfect, not show them as broken, flawed. Still monsters, but frail. What was the point of that?

• •

The trio found their way to their target. But as with anything that touched on their cores, nothing was that simple. The addict already had her stash in hand and was halfway out her window when they broke through the door. "Hold, damn it!" she ordered.

"Choke on my spray Riptide!" the carrier said, jumping.

Riptide and her back up were right behind her, but when they looked out the window an Abyssal dive bomber slammed into it, detonating in a fire blast that swallowed them all. Riptide cursed, singed, but hells, if they were going loud.

"Cripple the bitch!"

She was running but she wasn't running fast enough. The shattered window and blown up wall gave them all space to line up and fire. A battleship and two heavy cruisers at this range? On a solid shooting platform? It was trivial. Fire swallowed the fleeing ship as the battleship turned away. Best she could do was end it fast, when it couldn't be quiet. She left one of her supports on the high ground and ran down the stairs with the other.

When they reached the carrier, she was half out of the crater, her legs pitted with cracks and holes, the engines totaled and missing a leg below the knee. Not ideal, but not terrible. That would heal with a few hours in the baths. The next part? Not so much. Riptide braced, hardening her heart. She was under orders on a Quarantine mission, no half measures.

Her other support pinned the screaming, screeching, pleading carrier as she tried to curl around her treasure. The woven chain bag of Bauxite held to her stomach as she curled protectively around it.

"You can't! I have permission! I need it! Need it! The Court said so! I can keep it! You can't take it! You can't make me!"
Damn it, she had a death grip on the bag. Riptide started breaking fingers even as her gorge rose. Tears fell freely from the carrier's eyes.

"No! Stop it! Stop it!" Finally she freed the bag and the carrier went limp. Riptide knew what had to be done, but neither her nor the support could be the one to do it. Her eyes scanned the forming crowd. It was easy to find the ship that wanted to sink her the most, she was the one pointing all her guns this way.

"Get in here and help her. You can sink me after!"

Riptide was already running. She vomited to the side but managed to keep her feet. She could hate herself later.
"Patch the holes sinking us first, fires later."

Behind her, the other girl pulled the carrier out of the crater, hugging her as hard as she could, her glare daring anyone to say a word. No one did. Ships were using cannon and bombs on Midway. Things were beyond fucked, the masks cracking.

The Heavy Cruiser that had pinned the carrier just slumped over. She glared at her.
"I'm not going back there." The voice was dead, empty.

She tried to keep Susie comfortable at least, starting a familiar cadence, keeping it steady.

"Our Princess is mighty and she is rich.
She has a whole ship set aside for each.
For Montana oils and Henrietta soils.
But little Susie is special still.
For her she keeps her fill."

Again, and again she sang the nursery rhyme. Until the carrier hugged her back, holding on for dear life. "I can't."
"You won't Susie. We're not fighting anyone here. You won't go without. The Hunger won't get you." she tried.

"But I don't have any. What if we get separated? What if They attack? I need it. I can't, I can't." she panted, shaking. Hitting her head against the girl trying to comfort her.

"You won't be hungry ever again Susie. The Princess promised remember? She has a special bag she carries herself, just for you. No one else can touch it. She'd die first. She promised, remember?" she spoke, softy.

The crowd had long since scattered, no one wanting to watch this. It was the Abyss. Everyone had a twist. It was ugly and no one liked being forced to watch. It was too close to facing their own.

"I remember." the carrier softly said.

"You can feel her, can't you Susie. She's still there and she has you bag. The Princess is coming and then everything will be ok. Why don't you let me carry you to my room. Would you like that?"

She didn't answer with words, only squeezed a bit harder. But at least he head-butts stopped. Progress.

Slowly, her sister carried her back to the dorms, singing a nursery rhyme:

"Our Princess is mighty and she is rich.
She has a whole ship set aside for each.
For Montana oils and Henrietta soils.
But little Susie is special still.
For her she keeps her fill."

She swore, by the end of this, someone would be paying in blood.

• •

Shun was fucking with her. Almost every night she spent in the lagoon under the tree, she'd wake up with her hand in the water. Taylor could see the damn imprint in the bottom. She didn't have to keep reminding Taylor she could kill her in her sleep, she was aware and tired of it.

It rewound, replayed.

Again she noticed her hand in the water. The shape of the displacement. But that same dark fire was missing, the certainty. The hate. Taylor stood within her dreams and wondered. What would possess a girl to come here every night and pull her hand in the water? The possible answers…concerned her.

• •

"Got it!" a shout startled the blockade as a girl came in from the kitchens.
"The Perfect Princess wouldn't have left her carriers hungry." she beamed.

Wakumi groaned. Montana's hand twitched, before she sighed explosively.
"Well, what's done is done. What do you have?" Montana asked.

"Enough spice for two carriers for two days? It isn't much." the cook shrugged, in apology.
"I'll take what I can get." the battleship rumbled.

The cook dropped the whole bundle into a small pot of oil, before handing it over to the line. She wasn't getting anywhere near that.
Wakumi looked from the feverish girl to the pot.

"How do we make her eat?"
"I got it." Montana claimed with a grin.

She dipped her fingers into the thick mix and started spreading it along the sick girls forearm.
Wakumi blinked.

"What are you doing?" she asked, lost.
"The skin is the most important part of everyone. It can breathe, keep out water and even absorb nutrients." Montana said, smiling, her eyes shining with zeal.

There was a loud, disgusted "Warships!" as a repair ship elbowed her way to the front
"I'm fucked anyway, I was her supervisor in port. Make some room you stupid cannon obsessed fools."

Within a few moments Bertha was propped up, her head in the repair-ships lap, as the Ra-class spoon fed her the mix, carefully massaging Bertha's throat to help her swallow. Within minutes, her color started improving noticeably, the eyes not rolling as much. As they finished with the kitchen pot, Riptide rushed in, carrying much more. But though the Ra kept feeding her, the repair ship never stopped looking worried.

"What?" Wakumi.
"She never came in for a checkup." the Ra whispered, horrified.

"Is it working or not?" Montana asked.
"It's helping with the fever," the repair ship answered. Which was both helpful and not.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Montana demanded.

The Ra managed to pry her eyes from the girl in her lap and gulped.
"It's not my place to say." she settled on. And wasn't that a whole new knot to untangle. It took Montana nearly a minute to do so.
"I need to call my Princess."

Then she was up like a plane.
"If that girl is a Princess… this could be ground zero for the second coming of Katherine. The Princess needs to know. Never again."

.

.

"I hate quarantine."

Bertha lay there, as the repair ship fled in the wake of the battleship, still on the table, sweating. They let her out of the circle, but not out of the room. Wakumi heard some gurgling and in a moment of insight turned Bertha to her side. Bertha dry heaved, but nothing came out. She was still out of it, the fever dropping but her eyes had gone mad behind her eyelids.

Wakumi kept gently running her hands through Bertha's ashen hair, staying with her, as the pale repair ship fell into a chair of her own.

• •

"Excellent, so she's agreed to sell the Walkman?" Taylor asked.

Shun nodded.

Detached duty after serving in the docks was proving a blessing in disguise. Taylor had time to watch and study the boats. Even if she didn't know all the players, she knew their servants. Taylor could make overtures, introductions, find out what the smugglers were selling and buying. She was still far too reliant on the sub to actually access the black market, her Imps and PTs not nearly as able to move freely outside of Midway.

But with her latest delivery from the south, Taylor should be able to squeeze in a few more things.

"Still nothing on the Bauxite?" she grit out.
"No, Bertha." the sub answered, not looking at her.

Right. It was keeping things from her, but she wasn't quite ready to buy her out. Once she had another sub, this one wouldn't be nearly so ready to deny her. She needed it, knew she was lesser for the lack of Bauxite and the sub had likely figured it out. The sneaky little devil was deliberately keeping it away so that Taylor would stay reliant on her, stay weak. It didn't matter, all debts would be paid. Taylor had to focus on things she could change. Like expanding her reach to the east.

And whose stupid idea was it to call the fleet fighting in the East Pacific, the West Pacific fleet?

Rewind, replay.

Taylor watched and she wondered. When did she grow so hateful, so vengeful?

When did she start thinking of Shun's work as her own? Her reach in the black market. Her deals. As if the sub wasn't involved, as if it was a dog, an extension of Taylor's will, playing tricks for her master. Mistress? Unimportant. Looking at herself, Taylor was a Merchant. She was an addict, hiding, pretending, but needing her next fix, blind to anything but her own troubles. Her eyes were manic when Taylor spoke of the rocks.

Shun wasn't looking away to hide ill thought. It was obvious from here, without the cobwebs before her eyes. The sub was looking away because it hurt her to see Taylor like that.

That thought? It summoned an entire highlight reel. Mornings spent plotting her revenge, her vengeance as Shun listened on. Not in silence. The girl was clever, Taylor would give her that. Poking and prodding, guiding Taylor away from her more self-destructive ideas. Never making it seem like any of it was her, but like Taylor had come to the ideas on her own. But she'd never wanted to see herself managed. Like she was a demented old cat person and Shun her nurse. Oh if only.

Because there were times there. Times where, the Taylor that was, was so deeply in thought, planning, plotting or just distracted. Times that Shun would sit next to her, patiently, silently, inching forward. Until she was so close Taylor's hand would distractedly go up and pat her on the head.

"Not now Shun."

Oh, she'd hide it. Lower her head, turn away, as if disappointed. But here, now? She could not just see it but understand. The tendrils that had replaced the subs legs would wiggle, in a happy little dance, as Shun kept looking away. Because she'd had human contact, that wasn't pain.

And the longer she looked, the more Taylor saw it. Her eyes would linger on Taylor, when she wasn't looking. Awake, Taylor had thought it a sensible precaution, keeping an eye on someone you didn't trust. They were partners in crime in the Abyss, after all, plotting theft and rebellion.

Shun didn't look at her like a business partner, or someone who was a threat. The sub had started out anxious and snarky, but by the end? She wasn't just friendly, Shun was devoted, like Taylor was her best friend in the whole world. Hiding it all behind a tough girl exterior and bluster. How could Taylor be that blind?

And if she was missing that, what else had she missed or misread? Because the girls around her? Many of them had monstrous features, but Taylor had barely noticed. No, she'd barely cared.

On and on, the dreams carried her. Taylor began to wonder. They were Abyssal. They were monsters. But wasn't she one too? What was different? Her memories? Would that be enough, if this was the effect on her after a couple of months? How much of it was Taylor and what she was enduring, her missing pieces and diet; how she'd died and came into the world? How much a nudge from her new Passenger?

And if memories were enough? If good, she couldn't believe she'd call it that, but if a good childhood was all it took? Than what did it mean for every girl around her?

Were they monsters or people? Taylor had seen plenty of people who'd become monsters in her old life. Even if the Abyssal were monsters, could they become people? Early humans had done some really fucked up shit. Early? There was less than two centuries between her own time and rampart slavery.

Really, Taylor didn't feel great at her odds of trying to figure this out in her own head. She needed something tangible, definite. An anchor to hold on to. That felt right.