Disclaimer: I own neither Halo nor Kantai Collection.
Battleship Nagato sighed as she sank into her chair. So glad the Admiral let me get a comfortable one, she thought, though she did momentarily regret not having one of those "massage chairs" she'd seen online. She could probably make good use of one after today.
She and Ooyodo had tried to remove Harvest's equipment after she went out cold, but found it surprisingly heavy. Additionally, it wasn't separated for ease-of-maintenance into propulsion, armament, and C&C like, oh, say, the equipment of every single other kanmusu in the freaking world. Ooyodo had to finally summon Akashi from the workshop; she was able to separate girl from equipment, but then had to go back to the workshop to get a cart to carry the stuff, it being far too heavy to carry back.
Nagato could have spent some time wondering how a frigate could carry a load that felt too heavy for two cruisers and a battleship, but with Harvest still unavailable for questioning she decided she'd rather let people with far more rank than her (like the Admiral, the lazy bum) worry about that. She'd report it to him whenever he deigned to show his face next and let him deal with it.
Setting Harvest on a couch outside her office (and covering her with a blanket; she wasn't heartless!) and returning to her paperwork Nagato felt the day go by rather fast. She would have missed DesDiv Six's reunion with Tenryuu had Mutsu not stuck her head in and let her know. (Let Mutsu tease her all she wants; Nagato would never want to miss the joy on those…cute faces…The joy; that's what she went for. The joy! The joy!)
Returning to her office she found Harvest still asleep, but murmuring and fidgeting. Nagato felt her face fall. She was no stranger to nightmares—few kanmusu were—but it still saddened her that someone so small would seem so troubled. She pulled up the blanket and tucked in around the small ship, who seemed to calm down a bit and snuggle in.
Feeling her cheeks heat slightly, Nagato stepped back into her office, remembering something she wanted to do since Harvest had arrived earlier that day. She glanced at the clock, calculating the seventeen-hour time difference between Yokosuka, Japan and San Diego, California. Once she calculated she would not, in fact, be waking her friend at some ungodly hour in the morning, she picked up the phone and dialed one of her closest friends.
"Saratoga," the other end of the line said brusquely. Nagato grinned; anytime someone called the Yokosuka office Nagato went through a whole process: "Kanmusu Base Yokosuka, Secretary Ship Nagato speaking." The Admiral had ordered her to do so: such a greeting was informative he said. It made clear who you were and what position you held, and allowed the caller to address you properly. When Nagato finally found out Saratoga's number, she had been surprised by the abrupt way Saratoga answered her office phone. It took her a couple months to work up the courage to ask why Saratoga answered her phone that way, and the sheer Americanness of it always made Nagato smile. "If you're intending to call this line, you know damn well who I am," Sara had said, "and if you don't know who I am, you damn sure shouldn't be calling me."
"Sara, it's Nagato. Hope I didn't wake you?"
"Nagato! No, it's past reveille, but boy, are you up late. Are you okay?" Nagato felt her chest warm at the sympathy in the American carriers' voice. Nagato was incredibly grateful the Admiral overlooked the long, frequent late-night talks between the Japanese battleship and the American carrier, particularly as her own nightmares kept her awake. Truly, no therapy Nagato could think of helped as much as those midnight chats across the Pacific. She was relieved the Abyssals were never able to cut that connection; she didn't know what she would have done had she needed her friend and not been able to contact her.
But that wasn't why Nagato was calling this night. "I'm doing fine, thank you. I've actually got a couple questions for you. Is this line secure?"
"As secure as it will ever be," Saratoga responded with a chuckle that masked the guard in her voice. A question like that always meant something serious. "What's up?"
"Have you managed to summon any new kanmusu lately?"
"We're always summoning new ship girls. Enterprise is out in the courtyard drilling a new class of escort carriers as we speak, in fact."
"I mean any new, new kanmusu. Post war, like those ships with the strange guns early in the war?"
"Ha! Getting her hands on a Zumwalt's railgun would probably be South Dakota's wet dream. No, no joy getting anything postwar. Hell, Boeing and Northrop-Grumman are driving themselves nuts trying to shrink jets down to size."
"I see." Nagato paused. "Forgive the topic shift, but can you think of anything for the acronym 'UNSC'?"
"Uh…" Nagato could hear Saratoga typing on her computer; she had done the same thing and come up with nothing. "Pff…I dunno. The UN Security Council, maybe? Why do you ask?"
"Just wondering—"
"Bullshit." Nagato smiled ruefully, here was the part of Saratoga that had busted past the barriers and forced Nagato to talk about Crossroads no matter how much she didn't want to. "You're not staying up to midnight just wondering about nothing. C'mon Nagato, what's up?"
"We found a kanmusu in the Abyssal territory," she said slowly. "Her ship prefix is UNSC, and according to one of my subordinates carried what I'm pretty sure is a railgun. Just wanted to ask if you knew anything about it."
"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm sure if we did have anything to do with it SoDak wouldn't stop bragging about it." There was a pause. "If...you do find out whose ship girl it is, it would be…appreciated if you could let us know. I know a few someones who will never let me hear the end of it if they find out someone has toys like that and we don't."
I'm asking this not as your friend Saratoga but as a representative of the United States Navy. Someone listening in on the call might miss the shift in tone, or assume that the "someones" Saratoga complained about meant South Dakota and the other eager kanmusu working at the tech shop, but Nagato caught on and knew better. After a moment considering what she wanted to say, she replied, "I'll see what I can do. Most of my attention in the next couple days is going to be preparing for the relief convoy. They've had a long trek round the Pacific; maybe they'll want to rest a little bit before heading back."
Japan will not actively aid you, but I won't impede the United States investigating on its own. Saratoga could read between the lines, too. "I'm sure they'd appreciate that, Nagato, thank you. Is there anything else? The damned paperwork fairy went and blessed my desk overnight…" Get off the line. I need to make some calls.
Nagato made sure her yawn went through the line. "No, that's about it, Sara. Enjoy your paperwork; I'm off to bed." Friends regardless?
A chuckle floated back from America. "I'll do my best. Sleep well, Nagato. Take care." Of course. She hung up.
Nagato sighed. Both Saratoga and her were high-ranking kanmusu, so she really wasn't all that surprised that politics intruded on their conversation, but Nagato still hated it when it did. She supposed that at the very least Saratoga never let politics come in between their friendship, so that was something to be grateful for. Even so, she missed the happy feeling she always had ending one of her carefree discussions with the American carrier. She got up from her desk, laid down on the futon she'd laid out in the corner of the office, and was almost immediately asleep.
Harvest knew she was a ship, and while she was a ship she knew some of her crew had nightmares. Therefore she knew what nightmares were intellectually, but that never prepared her for experiencing them.
COMFLT PRIORITY-9: Covenant fleet is assuming glassing formation. All frigates are to cease groundside operations immediately, collect what personnel they can, and proceed upstairs. Shivas are authorized by code Whitcomb Seven-Bravo-Niner-Delta.
It had been a small colony. Harvest couldn't even remember the name. She'd diverted there as soon as HIGHCOM received the alert that Covenant had entered the system.
Fleet, transport ship Harmony. Evacuation proceeding apace but we need more time to-
Fleet's bought all the time it can. Five minutes until Covenant close the orbital envelope. You have three minutes to get upstairs, Harmony.
It had been a month since Harvest had glided out of the frigate yards orbiting Reach. Three weeks since she'd received her AI. Two weeks since her crew had come aboard. Her skipper's first mission. Her first mission.
It couldn't end like this.
Fleet, this is patrol Golf-Eight. Requesting extraction.
All available assets are committed to evacuating civilians, Golf-Eight. I'm sorry.
Understood, Fleet. Get as many out as you can.
Harvest hovered above one of the main evacuation points, shuttling as many people as she could. She remembered how stuffed her hanger was. Civilians, Marines, ODSTs, Army, all crammed together. They'd even pushed some Pelicans out of the hanger to make room for more to come in.
So many people, but not enough. Never enough.
Evacuation at Twenty percent; requesting additional Pelicans!
There's no more room! We can't take any more!
This is EVAC point Delta; there's no transport here! We've got thousands of civvies needing a ride out!
All callsigns, the orbital envelope is closed. I repeat, the orbital envelope is closed. If you're not out of atmosphere in the next thirty seconds, the Covenant won't let you out!
The cry, the wail of everyone still on the ground as Harvest ignited her engines and raced skyward! How was it possible that even as she left the atmosphere she could still hear the cry of everyone she left behind?
You can't just leave us!
All Pelicans away. Orbital command out.
I don't want to die!
Large Covenant vessel overhead; I can see the projector charging up. Tell them we did not go quietly into the night. Golf-Eight, over and out.
Anybody! Please! Help!
Yit'gadal v'yit'kadash sh'mei raba…
AUTOMATED MESSAGE: Warning: External temperature at 15,000 degrees. Deploying disaster beacon.
"Shut it off."
She remembered how she froze; how everyone on the bridge froze.
"Skipper?"
"Shut off comms."
Slowly the screams decreased in volume. Softer and softer, before turning silent with a final *click*.
"We've done what we could. Take us into slipspace, random vector."
"It's not enough."
"It never is."
Even as she heard her drive spin up, even as the bright ring of slipspace tugged at her eyes, Harvest couldn't tear her eyes away from the planet. A green and brown jewel. A jewel on which angry red lines blossomed like scars. All unnervingly silent as she slid into slipspace. Running away, away, falling—
Wait. Falling?
"Oof!" Picking herself off the floor, Harvest realized she had slid off a couch. Untangling herself from a blanket, she noticed the light peeking through a door. Creeping towards the door, she was rewarded with a glimpse of Nagato sitting at a desk, working at what appeared to be an early terminal station.
Deciding to leave the battleship be, Harvest snuck away through a different door, through which she could smell salt air. She blinked in surprise. When did it turn dark?
"Must've been out a while," she murmured to herself, walking across a short path and setting herself down on a small ledge overlooking the bay.
Twenty twenty-five. It's 2025. Five hundred years before the Covenant attack Harvest. Harvest shook her head, imagining the possibilities. She could warn them, tell everyone about the Covenant. Give humanity time to prepare! Make sure the Covenant found Harvest not a vulnerable colony world but a fortress bristling with Super MACs! Maybe that'll make them think twice—
Harvest suddenly stopped, the logical AI-driven side of her brain coming back into full effect. So what if she told everyone about the Covenant—it was five hundred years in the future. They'd just think "oh, plenty of time" and forget about it. Or worse, what if they did take that into mind and build Super MACs everywhere? Before the Covenant (and even during the Covenant, to an extent), the major threat to the UNSC had been colonial insurrection. Just a few Super MACs could deny approach to a planet for a while; what if one or several was taken over? The insurrection had seen hard fighting on the ground; capturing a Super MAC would make the Innies a danger in space, too.
Harvest frowned to herself, wondering just where this knowledge came from. A ping to her AI revealed it was just as clueless as she was, and none of her crew had enlisted before the Covenant, but somehow Harvest found herself with memories…bloody terrorism, brutal repression, something about kidnapping children…
I'll ponder that another time, she thought, pushing those memories aside. She leaned back, looking up into the sky, watching the stars. She smiled. I wonder if any of them are familiar.
If someone were to ask USS Yorktown where she was, she might sluggishly reply, "Bumfuck, Pacific." Of course, she—or at least, her navigator—really did know her location exactly, but she'd have to work a bit to avoid giving the snarky answer.
What seemed like ages but in fact was about a month ago, she and her task group had started out from Los Angeles escorting a convoy carrying this, that, and all the other stuff to Japan. Initially little sis had volunteered to escort the convoy, but then the Navy had started summoning scores of escort carriers after Hawaii had been seized. Like pulling an ace out of a fighter squadron to teach flight school during the war, Enterprise had been pulled from convoy duty to teach, and so Yorktown was the lucky one to go to Japan.
"I'm living vicariously through you," Enterprise had said when she saw the convoy off. "Don't fuck up."
Faking a gong noise as best she could, Yorktown clapped her hands together and bowed low. Enterprise snorted. Standing up again, Yorktown said loudly, "I shall make you proud, Little E!" Enterprise's deep blush coupled with the intense whispers from some of the late-war and escort carriers in Enterprise's class made Yorktown grin. "See you later, sis," Yorktown said, embracing her sister. "I'll let you know when I get there."
"Take care," Enterprise said, returning it. The entire way out of the bay Yorktown had a Cheshire grin on her face, drawing some odd looks from the cruisers and destroyer in her escort group, but a scream of horror and pure, unadulterated rage echoing from the pier made Yorktown break down laughing. One of the trainees must've actually had the gall to call her "Little E", she thought happily. Not even God can save you after pulling a stunt that stupid, but I sure do appreciate it!
Yorktown appreciated that memory quite often in the month since; traveling very slow with the same few ships tended to exhaust the novelty very quickly. Sure they'd met up with ship girls from Australia, Britain, and now China on her trek round the Pacific, but they'd always be so focused on "super-serious convoy making super-serious trek to Japan" that they'd be all business. Sure Yorktown knew this stuff was important, but she didn't see why the others couldn't do their job and have a little fun doing it.
Hammann pulled up alongside. "Oi, Skippy, Sara wants to talk to you." Yorktown smiled as she took the phone. Other navies were often astonished at the sheer informality permitted by American ship girls, but it took different forms. Early war carriers were extremely informal with each other, and longtime escorts were often given great leeway by those they had escorted. Yorkten (as Yorktown had nicknamed her Essex-class replacement) would never dream of calling Enterprise "Little E", and Yorktown would come down hard on almost any destroyer other than Hammann shortening "Skipper" to "Skippy".
Thus Yorktown ignored the looks shared by some of the Chinese ship girls when she picked up the phone and said, "Hey, Sara, have your surfing lessons paid off yet?"
"Funny, Yorktown," Saratoga replied. The fact that Saratoga called her "Yorktown" rather than "York" (or, after she'd had a few that one time, "Yorky") said this wasn't a social call. "Listen, Nagato is going to put you and your girls up for a few days to catch some rest."
"I'm sure they'll be glad to hear the news," Yorktown said, both knowing they would be staying a bit anyway while all the cargo was unloaded. "Anything else you need me to do while I'm there?"
"The Japanese say they've found a new ship girl out in the Abyssal territories." Found? "We want you to look on her a bit. She goes by the name 'UNSC Harvest'…"