"Where am I?"
Voice. consciousness? Hazy memories and indistinct feelings, of smoke, and ash, acrid in her mouth… on her skin. Skin? Steel. Sinking… and that machine… evil red eyes boring into her… staring into her soul and stopping her cold. Her bloodied limbs dropping past her, flight frames cascading off her decks and sliding into the inky black below, and her lower half...
Her lower half, why can't she feel her lower half? What happened to her body, to her hull? A bone-chilling cold sets into her flesh, and her arms feel so weak, falling down and down and down until…
The seafloor. Staring up into endless, inky black. A pair of brilliant, bright blue eyes slide shut, and Blue Ridge II falls asleep at the bottom of the Pacific ocean in a world very drastically different than the one before.
"Strategist 0958236 on-site. Recording."
Lamplit eyes, brilliantly yellow illuminated a wreck, where they were, the pressure would have rendered even the toughest submarines a crumpled canister of metal, even she had to wear a specialized coating and some sort of reinforced hull plates. Yet, right there, right here, was an aircraft carrier that confounded even her sensors. The hull lay in two, shattered, broken, twisted pieces on the floor of the sea. Debris scattered around in a gruesome tapestry of the horrors of war, ruined and wrecked, and yet… It was intact, at this pressure, holding its shape, and serving as a dominant and rather imposing shell around that one's testing center. The dark building surrounded by… things, pieces of rigging, Tester's rigging… that circle it like hungry sharks, Strategist feels shivers travel through her body and into the water around her as those… machines… those things circle. But she swallows and heads towards the sealed, airlock-like door placing her hand against it and knocking once.
"Strategist 0958236. Present hand and armaments."
That voice chills her to the bone, riding her brain like some sort of creeping, slithering madness, the voice of a Tester. Her authority is unchallenged here, and the thing in the room ahead of her, its power signature even now sends a buzz through her bones. As the doors slide open and she steps into the facility, the airlock closing behind her, she lays eyes on the figure in the tube, obscured by mists and gasses. Her rigging disarms all but the specially enhanced weapons on her shoulder mountings, and she steps forwards as the water drains into the floor around her. Gazing through the thick glass of the inner door, Strategist stares evenly at the enormous tube of rigid metal and glass, something that defies even their technology.
They are large, the first thing that Strategist realizes; she knows that the forces of Azur Lane, especially the carriers... are of notable size, and that some of her own forces are as tall. But that… woman, she's over 6 and a half feet tall, and she is as mysterious as any of the wreckage around her. For 8 months of research, 243.4 days, nothing significant has been found. The alien material of the hull, or the aircraft so advanced that they make even those unapproachable Compilers seem like weak children by comparison. Like the fleshy, bunker dwelling primates that even now so desperately cling to their meaningless existences as Siren forces tighten their grip on the oceans of the world.
That thing in the tube could change the testing, it could make hundreds of years of progress in the next few years… if they can crack her secrets. So far, her armored shell has made her immune to such pursuits. But hopefully, that will all change now. Strategist 0958236 shed her pressure suit and readied her rigging, advancing on the pod and facing down at the sleeping, barely-there occupant.
"So. This is the creature?"
"Affirmative."
Monotonous in voice and tone, Tester stares back, and the woman in the capsule's face becomes apparent through the glass as the gasses clear away from her pale and damaged face. That thing isn't human, and it doesn't bleed like one of their crude facsimiles. But… It does look like them, making its existence, and the fact that this base was established at the bottom of the ocean specifically to study her, all the more interesting.
The figure's face is smooth, pale, and completely human, with high cheekbones and a jawline that is defined clearly and really, carved on her face. All make their mark on this woman, and Strategist more than quickly realizes that she would probably be considered more than a little attractive to humans. The gasses and chemicals in the tube prevent anything to save her face from being seen, thick, blonde and white hair completing the ensemble, but the most definitive mark on her is the jagged, thick scar running from her upper brow to her lower face, peeled away, synthetic components and sheets of intricately worked black metal just under her synthetic skin. From the readouts that are quickly presented to her, Strategist can tell that the woman isn't completely metal, but around 40% of her body, mostly along the lines of muscles, bones, and organs have some level of changes and shifts. The technology is inherently more advanced than anything Strategist has seen, and based on the expression of Tester, her commanding officer is equally befuddled.
"Strategist," Tester notices her subordinates' discomfort and nervousness, but as she preps the pod to be opened, she merely chooses to state flatly. "Do not lose focus. There will be problems if you do."
Strategist nods and shrugs her shoulders before she lowers her lances and gets to work at hacking the pod open.
She is good at following orders, if nothing else.
650 meters above, the ocean is bracketed with shellfire and explosions. A task force of Azur Lane shipgirls ravage the sector as they return fire at anything and anyone that approaches them. A white-haired woman, carrying a bow in one hand and a flight deck surrounding her, observes the orderly chaos.
USS Essex shouts orders over the rain and storm, and rapidly coordinates another flight of rescued aircraft to a safe landing spot on her leftmost deck. As the woman sorties further and further into the storm front, she scans her surroundings and yells another set of orders into her crackling radio set.
"Laffey! Helena! Cleveland! Report!"
The sleepy destroyer is the first to respond, purring in a fashion that indicates she's barely awake even in the middle of combat.
"Laffey hereee…. The storm's blocking my viewwww but I'm nearbyyyy..."
"Cleveland here! Taking potshots and fire from a group of Siren heavy cruisers! We'll be there as soon as we cannnn! Cleveland out~!"
Essex sighed, before she turned her attention to the next incoming flight. Most of their work was done here, and an Ironblood task force with several other groups was busily mopping up and destroying any remnants of the Sirens they had been sent to eliminate some distance north. As the carrier faces into the storm, she finishes recalling a flight of aircraft and turns to exit the area of operations. Sighting in on North Carolina 12 kilometers to the south, Essex checks her reserves and readies a flight of fighters and bombers to assist the beleaguered battleship. Although beleaguered is probably a stretch, given that North Carolina's made short work of the Siren Battlecruiser and is busily tearing her way through their retreating rearguard. Better safe than sorry… she couldn't let another Shibuyan Sea happen again. Then again, that's probably too many aircraft… 2 full strike groups are more than overkill but its better that Vestal and North Carolina are safe. Besides… Essex really didn't want Enterprise to rip her a new one when she did return to base.
"Mou, Essex!" A lightly annoyed voice admonished, "I'm fine, you should know that!"
North Carolina isn't speaking into her radio, but as a veritable swarm of aircraft descends on her position, she can't help but wonder why Essex was so desperate to protect the fleet. Her armor and weapons are more than a match for anything that these pitiful fighters and destroyers can throw at her! As she turns to face the retreating, and in some cases burning siren fleet in front of her, she raises her main batteries to the sky and lets of a rippling battery of armor-piercing munitions that sail directly for one of the sirens ahead of her.
"She just wants to keep everyone safe, and that's always a good thing!"
Vestal's voice, smooth and quiet, spoke to the woman in a tone that reminds the powerful battleship that she is the attache to USS Enterprise herself, and one of the most skilled repair ships in the fleet. Vestal approaches North Carolina as Essex moves in on the pair from the south, her body language is open and rather quiet, but she's very clear and very direct in the next words she asks.
"Any of you hurt? I'll take care of it!"
Vestal's crane systems are active already, and as North Carolina steps to the side to welcome back Essex, she sees 3 smaller figures bobbing and weaving and heading their way… looks like Laffey, Helena, and Cleveland were more than able to handle those light cruisers, although, from the soot and ash and slightly torn clothing on Cleveland, she likely did something a little self-sacrificing in an effort to keep Helena from taking even a single hit. But that's paid off here, given the fact that the damage is completely minor. Only a few rips and tears in her coat, lucky for all involved. As Essex rejoins the formation, and the three escorts take a diamond vanguard around them, her radio briefly buzzes, before she hears the dulcet and smooth tones of Roon purring over the radio. Based on the fact she's a little breathless, she likely had a little too much fun… the damned psychopath…
"Herr Flaggschiff~ Roon here, Siren forces routed. They're running from us, the audacity, but 'tis only fair I suppose~"
Her tone is excited, and while she does address Essex with respect, the American carrier can't help but feel a shiver run down her spine at the undertone of violence in Roon's voice. Her Ironblood counterpart is more than capable of tearing her way through an entire fleet of lesser vessels, and she's done it before, in front of Essex and a group of destroyers who didn't sleep for 3 days as a result, that, plus the experimental searchlights mounted on her, gave her the appearance of a gore and viscera soaked demon, and the fact she was more than happy to lick her fingers and weapons clean of the oil and gore of the enemy strategist… well. Even Essex had a little trouble sleeping after that, but she is her ally, and that means they fight together, regardless of the horrific manner in which she treats her opponents.
"Understood, thank you for the hard work, and the hard fought victory. Make sure Quartz knows she's got permission to give your girls all the ice cream they can eat!"
"Nein~ Danke for ze excellent fight and ze distraction Herr Flaggschiff~ Roon, out~"
As Essex turns back to her own group, she sighs, talking with Roon was always more than a little unpleasant, in part because of the German's quirks, but also because she was just so damned good with her own destroyers as escorts, and more than capable of destroying or, well, in her words, eviscerating the enemy.
Luckily though, she and her girls were on their way back to base, and judging from the pings on her radar unit, Shangri-La's task force was on their way to reinforce them, and they were bringing Jerry with them. The coffee ship was a welcome sight on any day, and facing down a nasty storm, well, Essex couldn't really think of a better way to spend convoy duty on the ocean than with a hot mug of chocolate, whiskey, and caffeine in hand.
However.
1950 feet below them, trapped in an icy tomb, a consciousness that thought itself deceased is roused from slumber. Her cold, hulking form begins to surge to life as electronic signals ready her rigging for combat and full use... and Blue Ridge II slowly begins to wake up from a slumber like the dead.
NOTES: Welcome back everyone! It took far too long, but the fates have smiled upon me for the first time in a long while. You have someone named WO-class#3872 to thank for helping pick this chapter from eternal slumber, not unlike poor Blue Ridge II. Be sure to contact their discord if you have a story you want help with. They'll be helping me with this story, and the plan is to go pretty far with it!
(Story was originally inspired by Nier Automata, of course, but also "Dance With Me" by GrandLeviathan, and another Azur Lane story called "Two Sets of Tails". Both are excellent reads).
Thank you for your patience~