Disclaimer: I own neither Halo nor Kantai Collection.
Thanks to everyone who has read my work so far! I currently have a bit of a backlog, which is why I am updating so fast. As always, comments, criticism, suggestions etc. are welcome. Thanks again for reading, and on with the show!
UNSC Harvest sighed contently as sunlight slowly banished away the night. Even though the rising sun made it more difficult to see the stars visually, she was still able to spot quite a few from her travels. She gave the sky one more look, as though to reassure her that her sight was actually true.
Harvest…Arcadia…New Harmony…Jericho…and last but certainly not least, she thought with a smile, Epsilon Eridani II. Reach. Harvest collated her observations, determined her single point of reference, and for what must have been the fifth time that night, confirmed her location: Earth.
Frigates such as herself had little business traveling to humanity's homeworld. Earth and the other Sol colonies were the heart of the United Nations Space Command, but Reach was its brain. Epsilon Eridani II was the gateway to Sol in more ways than one: each theater of the war had its own forward base (Jericho, in Harvest's case). Each forward base filtered back to Reach, but only through Reach did most things travel back to Sol. Even so, other than shipments of raw materials to feed the Sol capital shipyards, travel to the home planet of humanity was rather rare; the only traffic to make the journey were capital ships carrying one admiral or another…or an ONI ship.
Reach was the farthest into the Inner Colonies Harvest had ever been, and even then the only reason she was so far back was that she was constructed there. For a frigate like Harvest, deployment to Sol meant they were destined for a mission of incredible importance…or that Humanity was truly on the ragged edge of extinction.
Shaking her head to clear away that unwelcome thought, Harvest found herself perplexed as to why this view of the galaxy seemed familiar, as though she'd seen it before from this angle. Hazy memories started to seep into her mind: some mission no-one could talk about, an eye atop a triangle, Something called 'Orion'? Harvest's brow furrowed; these memories were not hers; that she was sure of. So where were they coming from?
Even as Nagato came to fetch her, even as the battleship deposited her in a small meeting room beside her office and left to go greet some sort of supply shipment, Harvest's mind stayed many years in the future.
"She's right this way," Nagato said, gesturing towards her office. "Would you like to talk to her now?"
"Just for a little bit," the American carrier responded tiredly. USS Yorktown slung her firearm over her shoulder and wiped her hands on her old-fashioned blue coat. "Just want to establish a basis, get a first impression. If it becomes necessary I can grab a snack while we wait for an intel spook to arrive." Nagato nodded, and with a gesture the two capital ships started making their way from the docks towards Nagato's office.
The American carrier drew looks from several passing kanmusu, not that Yorktown paid them much heed. Nagato could understand their interest, however, for the American was an unusual sight. Unlike Japanese carriers which resembled Kyudo archers and Royal Navy carriers which resembled longbow archers, American aircraft carriers were clothed and equipped similarly to American infantrymen of the 18th and 19th Centuries. Yorktown in particular wore a red-trimmed blue coat atop a white dress in the style of the late-Revolution Continental Army, befitting her historical namesake and similar in theme to the other pre-war US carriers. A pouch slung to her side carried preloaded plane loads for the flintlock musket slung over her shoulder, allowing Yorktown to launch different variations of squadrons depending on need. Topping off the ensemble was a black tricorn cap with a patch depicting her historical insignia, a cannon in the talons of an eagle. All in all, the sight was certainly an exotic one for a Japanese kanmusu base, and Yorktown left many turned heads in her wake.
The American turned so many heads, in fact, that Nagato could not help but tease her visitor a bit. "Seems like you're quite the popular sight."
Yorktown shrugged. "If they think I'm exotic, they should see Lex in her deerskins. Though I admit I'm probably more of a sight than the Essexes." No one quite knew if it was because of wartime standardization or sisterly similarity, but every single Essex-class summoned had appeared in the same federal-blue coat of the American Civil War, the number stitched into the top the cap often the only indicator clothes-wise that a new ship had appeared, rather than a clone of one already summoned. Though each Essex was quick to apply their own personal touches to their uniform, nothing announced an American presence more than a line of kanmusu firing planes colored the same dark blue worn by their home ships.
Fashion and costume companies, needless to say, had a field day.
The two kanmusu took a brief detour by Akashi's workshop to look over Harvest's equipment. The repair ship hadn't been able to analyze the newcomer's rig yet—repairs to Tenryuu's equipment, still not yet completed, had kept her up late into the night—but Yorktown did note what looked like a motto etched into Harvest's weapon. It wasn't in a language Nagato understood, but Yorktown smiled and said she'd tell the battleship later.
Harvest stood as the two kanmusu walked into the small room. "UNSC Harvest, this is the aircraft carrier USS Yorktown," Nagato introduced. "USS Yorktown, UNSC Harvest."
"Pleasure to meet you, Harvest," Yorktown shook the frigates' hand before gesturing for them all to sit. "Don't take this the wrong way, but your arrival has caused quite a stir."
The frigate's mouth formed a knowing smile. "I bet it has."
"If you don't mind me asking," Yorktown started, "what does 'UNSC' stand for?"
Nagato knew that in hundreds of years she never would have asked a question like that; it simply was not the Japanese way. Rumors would abound, discussions would be had, but a direct confrontation or inquiry was simply unthinkable in Japanese culture. For an American, it was literally at the top of the list.
But Nagato was yanked out of her cultural musings by the response: "United Nations Space Command."
"United…"
"Nations…"
"Space Command?" Nagato and Yorktown finished together. They looked at each other, and Nagato fully expected her own face matched the bewildered look on Yorktown exactly. The two kanmusu turned and looked back at Harvest, who looked upon their reactions with a grin.
"Do you need a moment to collect yourselves, or would you like to try to make it through the short version first?"
The two capital ships made it about a half hour before Yorktown called a time-out. Harvest sympathized (though a grin split her face in spite of her best efforts to keep it straight) and as Nagato and Yorktown filed out the door the frigate beckoned them to 'take as much time as they needed'. Yorktown recovered long enough to duck her head back around the half-closed door to commend the frigate on her choice of motto before finishing the action. As she closed the door behind her, the American carrier missed the look of surprise followed by deep thought that came across Harvest's face.
Together in Nagato's office, Yorktown removed her hat and ran a hand through her hair. "I…She…We…" After several false starts she sighed. "Naval Intelligence is going to flip."
Nagato nodded. In the early days of the Abyssal threat, most intelligence services—Japan included—had focused on the threats on their own doorstep. The American Office of Naval Intelligence, however, had taken a wider view, bringing together and spreading ideas from fellow intelligence agencies across the world. The open cooperation by ONI and its positive reception from navies across the planet paved the way for kanmusu to adopt a world-wide strategy, ensuring that even the smallest kanmusu force fought with the combined knowledge of the world.
"Several of your experts are actually in Tokyo at the moment," Nagato mused. "I can contact the home office and ask them to send someone our way." The meeting of several ONI experts with the JMSDF high command had been the stated reason the Admiral of Yokosuka left the base to Nagato. Along with him being a lazy bum, her mind amended.
"That would be for the best," Yorktown agreed, slumping down into a chair and rubbing her eyes. Nagato picked up her office phone and started dialing.
My motto? Harvest mused as her debriefers left the room. What motto— The light frigate halted mid-sentence, her eyes widening. During her construction, builders happened across a name plate in the Azod Ship-breaking Yards on Reach: "Repensum Est Canicula"—"Payback is a Bitch." It was a lofty title, in many ways one far too lofty for a mere frigate, but the workers had thought it a fitting motto for a ship named after the first planet lost to the Covenant. Her new captain, a man who had been a history professor before the Covenant killed his wife and daughter, agreed. And so as a frigate drifted out of the orbital frigate yards with "UNSC Harvest" emblazoned on her side, another inscription separate from her designation "FFG(L)-413" lay below her MAC: "Repensum Est Canicula."
But as Harvest thought about her motto, thought it over and over in her mind, she suddenly attached something to the phrase. The result floated softly out of her mouth: "UNSC Repensum Est Canicula."
And then came a torrent of hidden memories.
A Prowler, assigned to Office of Naval Intelligence, Section III. A threat, not from without but within: terrorists, bombs, insurrectionists. Operations and reprisals attempting to stem the violence failing, backfiring, only spreading the rot and discontent. A desperate search for something, anything, to stop the carnage.
A large flash-cloning machine, for a purpose neither Repensum nor her crew needed or wanted to know. Children, scared and often crying, loaded into the cargo bay to be spirited directly to Reach. Her crew reassuring their ship—reassuring themselves—that this was for the best; that maybe the sacrifice of just a few could ensure peace for the many.
Rumors of assassins in the dark, rumors of supersoldiers, rumors of real progress at last towards an end to the endless cycle of violence.
Rumors of a first contact. Rumors of a battle. Rumors of war.
On Harvest.
Forcing the waves of memories to finally subside before they'd overwhelm her, UNSC Harvest wracked her brain. Why did she have the memories of an ONI Prowler? Where had she come from? How had Harvest wound up with some of her parts? The only clue Harvest had to go on was a consistent phrase the memories kept repeating: "if only I had known."
If only I had known what? Harvest thought. To her surprise, something answered. Never trust the Admiral. Never trust ONI. Never obey the Queen Bitch.
Queen Bitch?
Parangosky.
The sound of the door suddenly brought Harvest's attention back to the room, and she looked up to see Nagato and Yorktown re-entering the room, accompanied by a third women in some sort of blue camouflage uniform.
"Sorry to keep you waiting," Yorktown said as she opened the door. "Hope you haven't been too bored."
"It's fine," Harvest responded as Nagato walked in. "Just doing some thinking." Nagato studied the frigate's face; it was evident that whatever Harvest thought of was far more than 'just some thinking'. But Nagato didn't get a chance to ask before a third woman walked into the room, wearing the distinctive blue-hued camouflage of the United States Navy.
Reaching a hand across the table, the third women introduced herself. "Lieutenant Jane Harper, Office of Naval Intelligence. Mind if I ask you a few questions as well?"
The reaction happened faster than one could blink, but Nagato managed to see it. For a split second, emotions warred for control of Harvest's face: shock, rage, and utter and complete horror all made themselves known before an impenetrable mask covered everything, her expression slamming closed so fast Nagato flinched as though a door had slammed shut in her face. "That depends," Harvest said icily. "Why the hell should I trust you?"
All three women blinked at that response. "I- The Admiral just ordered me down here to talk to you," Harper stammered hurriedly. "The circumstances—"
"The Admiral can go fuck herself, 'cause it will be Hell on Earth before I trust anyone answering to ONI's Queen Bitch." Harvest snarled. "So why don't you go take a long walk off a short pier, and I'm going to go get some stuff in case you even think of taking me by force." With that said she stomped around the table (Harper fearfully rounding the table to keep it between the frigate and her), shoulder-checked Nagato, and stormed out the door.
The two open-mouthed kanmusu blinked in confusion, before turning to each other, then glancing back at the poor intelligence analyst still cowering in the corner, then back at each other, before their voice finally started to return.
"Wha- What was… What happened…" Nagato started.
Yorktown just shook her head, speechless.
What the hell did I just do? That came out of fucking nowhere! Harvest berated herself mentally as she made her way back towards the cafeteria.
No! A part of her answered the rest. Never! I trusted Parangosky once, and my entire crew paid the price. Never again! Never trust ONI!
Parangosky's not here! She won't be here for another five hundred years! What the hell am I doing—
Good! Maybe we can get the word out and smother her in her crib!
So engrossed was Harvest in her mental battle that she walked into the cafeteria, grabbed herself a tray, and piled food atop in completely on autopilot. It was not until she sat down and started eating did her brain stop squabbling long enough to analyze its predicament.
Well, I've probably royally burnt any bridges I could find here, she thought ruefully. Guess I better try to stock up as best I can for when they inevitably throw me out.
As Harvest started eating, she let her attention encompass the other ships in the cafeteria. It appeared as though Harvest had walked in right during one of the major meal times, because the cafeteria was rather full. Harvest found herself surprised that she was even able to locate a table all to her own while she was on autopilot.
"That shitty admiral! Just what does he think he's trying to do?!"
Harvest could not help but smile a bit. English was the official language of the UNSC; it was spoken at all levels, and so Harvest had found a language barrier between herself and the ships that saved her. A smart A.I. would probably have noticed in the middle of her battle against snakebitch the previous day that eyepatch and her friends spoke Japanese, and devised a language program to accommodate. But Harvest, being neither a capital ship nor one of the major ground support ships like a Charon, made due with a dumb A.I. instead. And though dumb A.I.s could do everything a hyper-advanced computer could do—a hell of a lot—dumb A.I.s certainly could not think too creatively or outside-the-box. They were made for rote memorization, not improvisation.
But that meant that once Harvest realized she was in Japan the previous day, her dumb A.I. easily whipped up a translation program, Harvest's dead faint regardless. Now she finally got to try it out, and sure enough its first use found another ship complaining about her admiral.
Thinking it the chance to make a new friend, Harvest turned around. "What is he doing?"
To Harvest's surprise, the question was met with groans from many of the girls seated at the table. "Why'd you have to go and get her started?" One moaned at Harvest in despair. "Now she'll never shut up."
"He's a pervert, that's what!" The complainer griped out, regardless of her peers' disdain for her complaints. "I saw him hitting on Shoukaku-san earlier. He should really just learn his place!"
Harvest blinked, then frowned. She thought she'd found a kindred spirit; in fact she'd just stumbled on a squeaky wheel. "You made it sound like he was actually doing something bad. If you're really that jealous then complaining and cussing him out isn't going to help your cause."
The second statement caused quite a few reactions the next table over. Several burst out laughing, while the rest desperately tried to bury their snickers and failed miserably. The complainer's mouth hung open a moment as her face turned a shade of dark red, before she suddenly went on the attack against Harvest. "What's it to you, asshole? How the hell do you know how shitty our admiral is?"
"Because I know what a shitty admiral is really like," Harvest shot back, "and let me assure you yours doesn't even scratch the surface."
"Oh yeah? Then what's a shitty admiral really like, know-it-all?"
Takes one to know one, Harvest wanted to retort, but instead she held her peace as the ex-ONI Prowler came to the fore. "A truly shitty admiral, my shitty admiral, had my entire crew murdered to cover up the fact she was sending children on suicide missions."
All noise from the other table halted abruptly. Harvest turned back to her meal, but after staring at it for a minute came to the conclusion she wasn't hungry after all. Studiously ignoring the looks and oppressive silence from the table next to hers, Harvest picked up her tray, discarded the excess food, and made her way out of the mess hall.