Disclaimer: I own neither Halo nor Kantai Collection

Harvest didn't know how long she walked, how far or even where. Her attention was pointed solely down at her feet. All she knew was that she walked for a while after leaving the cafeteria, her mind fixated on the last few hours.

Intellectually, she knew snapping at the intel spook had been a bad idea, but every time she thought of going back and apologizing a big part of her mind reared up in rebellion. As parts of her brain argued about ONI, about protocol, about humanity, and even about courtesy, the larger whole came to the reluctant conclusion that perhaps bridges here were burnt after all.

Perhaps she should run away? Go to somewhere else on this planet where help is needed? Maybe five centuries in the past Earth wouldn't have the technology to get word out about what she did here. Maybe she should just go and hide in orbit; with a war down here, Harvest doubted they'd spot her any time soon.

But the words "run away" always raised Harvest's hackles. After all, most of Harvest's combat experience involved running away. Light frigates were considered chump change in fleet battles: with only one MAC, one Shiva, and some Archer pods, Stalwart and Charon-class frigates were practically flies to be swatted by Covenant ships. For the FFG(L)s to be pulled from ground support and sent upstairs was a sign that Fleet could no longer hold then enemy back. UNSC Harvest had seen eight months of service, had supported troops on three planets, and her one and only experience of space combat had seen her score one enemy cruiser with a lucky MAC shot through its slipspace drive. The saddest part of a service record like that, Harvest knew, was that it was actually far better than most Stalwarts could hope for.

"Hey kiddo, why the long face?"

Harvest jumped; her attention shot up, and she realized she had made her way to what looked like a repair facility. And there, sitting by what looked like a bath, was Eyepatch.

"Sorry, still can't understand me, right?"

"I can, actually," Harvest replied. Eyepatch tilted her head. "Just was…a bit rusty on the language. Took me a bit to remember it."

Eyepatch raised an eyebrow, but then shrugged. "Well, now that you understand Japanese, let me thank you very much for saving me back there. My sister would have killed me if I died."

Harvest blinked at the last statement, then began to chuckle, which grew and grew and grew. "Can't let that happen," is what she tried to say, but it came out more like unintelligible laughter. Before she knew it Harvest was trying to pick herself off the floor as her body kept trying to descend into giggles. "Thank you, for that," she finally managed to force out.

"No problem," Eyepatch responded with a smile, her cheeks reddening slightly. She held out her right hand. "Name's Tenryuu."

Harvest shook it. "UNSC Harvest," she replied, "Stands for United Nations Space Command."

"'Space Command'? Sounds like something out of a comic book or something. What are you doing here?"

"Would you believe I was dumb enough that I killed an enemy ship close enough to be caught in its explosion?"

"Fufufu… Just means you got close enough to see the whites of their eyes." Harvest smiled, reminding herself that Tenryuu was crazy enough to take on snakebitch with a sword. "Why didn't you just shoot him? That fuckoff-gun of yours is pretty damn powerful."

Harvest's face fell. "It really isn't, actually," she trailed off in a small voice. Harvest looked down at the water of the pool, letting her mind lose itself in the swirls of the water jets.

Tenryuu sighed. "C'mon kid, out with it." Harvest looked up in surprise. "Don't give me that look. I can tell something's eating you up. I may be absolute shit at that psycho-stuff, but I can tell when someone needs to talk."

Harvest sighed. She collected her thoughts together, and after a couple false starts, finally managed to get started. "Have you ever fought a war, where your own side does horrible, horrible things, but you fight for them anyway because the enemy just wants to kill you all?"

To her surprise, Tenryuu answered in the affirmative. "During our first war, the Pacific War. World War Two. Our side committed horrible crimes, crimes that made us ashamed to be Japanese. But we were fighting an enemy who swore our language would be only spoken in Hell by the time they were through. And though it didn't end quite as direly as they threatened, we were definitely trapped between our own prideful government and the United States."

Harvest nodded. She looked back into the swirling bath water, her mouth speaking almost of its own accord. "They made first contact in the year 2525. Over one of our outermost planets, named Harvest. My namesake.

"They called themselves the Covenant, a religious collection of several alien races. I don't think anyone knows what they wanted—what they want from us, but everyone knows how it all started. Everyone knows the one and only sentence they ever said to us: 'Your destruction is the will of the Gods, and we are their instrument.'"

After a small silence, Harvest continued in a small voice, "That was over twenty years ago. We've been fighting ever since."

Harvest watched the swirling water, working up the courage to say more, say what she knew she needed to get out. Tenryuu seemed content to wait patiently. Finally, Harvest was able to continue. "We fight back, of course. We fight as much as we can. On the ground we can match them, even drive them back, but in space…" She gulped, feeling her mouth dry up. "They have plasma, we have MACs. Their shields bounce MAC shots, our armor melts to plasma. And so we keep losing, keep retreating, keep running away."

"Harvest," Tenryuu said gently, "I say this with all due respect, but as horrible as that is, you and I both know that's not why you wandered aimlessly into the dock a bit ago."

Harvest looked up in surprise, then slowly nodded. "Tenryuu," she said slowly, "what does the term 'ONI' mean to you?"

Tenryuu gave Harvest a sidelong glance. "Demon. Or at least that's what 'oni' means in Japanese."

A surprised laugh floated out of the frigate. "You have no idea how appropriate that is."

Tenryuu smiled, before continuing, "But I also know the Americans have an intelligence service called that. Nagato talks about it sometimes, mostly complaining how their briefings allow the Admiral a chance to dump his work on her and skip out on his duties. Why do you ask?"

"There's a service named ONI in my time too—the Office of Naval Intelligence," Harvest said hesitantly, "and though intelligence is one of their jobs they do lots of other things too. At times they're almost like a secret police."

"Like the Kempeitai," Tenryuu cut in. At Harvest's look of surprise, she continued, "technically the military police, but they had evolved into more of a secret police by the later years of the empire. I remember how guarded and wary people became at even the mention of them."

Harvest nodded. "Same with people in my time and ONI. And I guess my story was so fantastic, Nagato wanted to call in some people to talk to me—"

"Including the American intelligence people," Tenryuu caught on. Harvest nodded. Tenryuu smiled and shook her head. "So you freaked out." It wasn't a question.

"I basically terrorized some poor intel officer, shoved Nagato out of the way, and stormed out," Harvest summarized. "Yeah, I freaked out alright."

"You shoved Nagato?" Tenryuu fought a losing battle to keep a smirk off her face. "You shoved a battleship? I guess that makes sense if you're a fucking spaceship, but still."

"I'm glad you find it funny," Harvest grumbled, "but I kind of burnt a few bridges here."

"Hardly," Tenryuu interjected. "Just go back and apologize." She didn't fight to keep a smirk off her face this time. "So first contact hit a speed bump, it's far from the worst that could happen, and easy to fix."

"You did that on purpose," Harvest grumbled petulantly. "And in any case, I'm not sure it will be that easy."

Tenryuu's grin did not deny the first charge, and to the second, "Fufufu… You scared?" Harvest crossed her arms and pouted. "Come on, I'll go with you; it's about time for me to get back to duty anyway. Can you grab me that towel over there?"

Harvest fetched the towel and brought it back as Tenryuu hoisted herself out of the bath. Tenryuu raised an eyebrow as Harvest handed it to her, in contrast to many westerners' prudishness regarding nudity. "Are you familiar with communal baths?" she asked as she toweled off.

"No; we exclusively have showers on board," Harvest answered. But understanding what Tenryuu was really asking, she continued, "But our crews use cryogenic stasis for long journeys, and going into it while clothed results in bad blisters and burns regardless of sex." The frigate shrugged. "The novelty wears off after a while." Tenryuu raised an eyebrow at that, but didn't respond.

The aircraft carrier Saratoga sighed heavily and rubbed her temples. There were plenty of things she enjoyed about her new human form—the sight of a sunset across the California sky, the smell of the sea air, the feel of cloth and fabric on her skin—but at the same time there were some parts that Saratoga could have done without. And one thing she'd file in the latter category without hesitation was the headaches she was occasionally afflicted with.

"So let me get this straight," Saratoga growled, "she was cooperating fine, then you up and left her for an indeterminate amount of time, and by the time you came back her disposition had shifted so completely that she stormed out, and now you can't find her." She glared at the video conference screen, which showed Yorktown standing at a parade rest perfect enough to satisfy the most demanding drill instructor—or Yorktown's little sister, who amounted to much the same thing. Nagato stood to the side and slightly behind the American carrier, and the poor analyst the new girl had unloaded on had done her best to hide in the very back until Saratoga had shown mercy by allowing her to return to her briefings in Tokyo.

"I judged the matter to be sufficiently above my grade to warrant the inclusion of Naval Intelligence personnel," Yorktown responded evenly. Though by no means the first time Yorktown had been dressed down—nor by any means the last time she would be, either—the indignation burning in Yorktown's eyes was easy to see. Saratoga had been the commandant of Ship Girl Base, San Diego for long enough to recognize the difference from the amused defiance Yorktown usually radiated when one of her pranks landed her in front of the brass. Unfortunately for her fellow carrier, Saratoga currently could not bring herself to care.

"And what of her allegiance? Her weaponry? Hell, anything I asked you to look into?" Saratoga paused her rant to gratefully accept a rating's offer of aspirin, dry-swallowing the pills before continuing, "Tell me you at least know something."

"I know that UNSC stands for 'United Nations Space Command,'" Yorktown replied. "She was telling us about its structure when we made the call."

"United Nations Space Command?" Saratoga asked incredulously. "You do realize how ridiculous that sounds, right?" Aside from the silly name, Saratoga reluctantly acknowledged the UN was for many intents and purposes dead, or at very least dormant due to the Abyssal threat. No one was willing to sponsor UN efforts overseas with their own coastlines under threat, and with the crash in international shipping aviation fuel was suddenly both much more difficult to obtain and much too valuable to spend shuttling diplomats to New York. As much as Saratoga hated to admit it, the Abyssals had put paid to Roosevelt's pet project much like World War Two had done to Wilson's.

"We expressed as much to her; she claimed she's from the future," Yorktown replied. "That's when I decided to call in ONI."

"She's from the future and you didn't even think to ask about the Abyssals? About what threats may loom yet unseen over the horizon? She's a spaceship, right? Can she fly? Did you even ask?" Yorktown just impassively met Saratoga's glare at the rapid-fire questions; she didn't have the answers and they both knew it. By now this was just Saratoga letting off steam. She rubbed her temples again, wishing the pills would work faster.

"If I may interject," Nagato cruised into the conversation, "She seemed fine until the analyst from ONI introduced herself. Perhaps she has some history with the agency we don't know about?"

"Agreed," Yorktown interjected. "The presence of an analyst seemed to be what set off the episode. Perhaps in the future we should leave interviewing her to the Fleet rather than ONI."

Saratoga's gesture could roughly be translated as What the Hell. "This isn't like the CIA or something; ONI is part of the Navy. For that matter, aside from us ship girls, Naval Intelligence has some of the most qualified analysts in the world when it comes to the Abyssals. And in any case all that is dependent on you somehow finding this girl and getting her back behind a table."

Yorktown's glare said her piece on the last bit of snark, but her reply ignored it. "So we ship girls will interview her ourselves and keep the secret squirrels in the loop. Or if ONI wants to be more directly involved they can ask a ship girl to front for them."

Saratoga's grin was all sharp teeth. "I know of one they might approach; a certain aircraft carrier who has been worried all month over the safety of her big sister, and who would be mighty angry to find that said sister has been too busy talking to spaceship visitors from the future to call and say she's arrived in one piece."

Yorktown winced. It was an open secret in the U.S. Ship Girl Corps that Enterprise was constantly obsessed over the safety of her sisters. On the one hand her history made it understandable—Yorktown had assured Enterprise she'd meet them back at Pearl after Midway, and Northampton had to knock Enterprise out to get her to leave Hornet at Santa Cruz, but on the other hand Saratoga admitted Enterprise's concern could flirt with obsession at times.

The wartime memory of Enterprise crying herself to sleep, clutching the picture the three sisters took together before Midway, though…

Nagato's assistant cruiser ducked her head into the conference room and called for her. As the battleship walked out the door, Saratoga looked back up at Yorktown. "Look, just find out what you can and get back to me. And call your sister before she breaks down my door." Yorktown, recognizing the call was coming to a close, came to attention and saluted. Saratoga returned it just before the rating cut the signal.

Saratoga sat down at a chair in the back of the room and rubbed her eyes. Times like these she really wished she had a drink. She was certain there was a still somewhere on base, but as commandant she really couldn't partake even if she did know where it was.

Saratoga sighed again. More's the pity.

Yorktown shivered as Saratoga cut the line. Don't get her wrong, she loved her sister more than anything, but Enterprise was scary when she let her emotions get the better of her. Some of the Japanese ships—or some of the anime-obsessed American ones—might have suggested the term 'yandere', but that didn't…quite…fit. Enterprise never got murderous (though the Abyssals and some of the Japanese might disagree), but her quiet rage was something to behold—preferably from a distance.

Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, she opened the door to the conference room and walked out…just in time to see the strange ship girl that had started this hoopla in the first place.

"—but I really do want to help," Harvest was saying. "So I ask that you forgive me my behavior, and I'll be willing to assist in any way that I can."

Yorktown blinked. "We're more than happy to have your assistance," she started, drawing the room's attention to her. "But if I may—if only to prevent something like that from happening again—may I ask what happened?"

Harvest took a deep breath, and said, "Let's just say…the spooks give me the spooks." She smiled sheepishly at her own wordplay.

Nagato pursed her lips. "How…"

Another ship, one Yorktown recognized as a Tenryuu-class cruiser, whispered to Nagato. "Kempeitai." Though Yorktown didn't know what meant, Nagato's paling face and rapid nod said that she did.

The American decided to skirt around to a different issue. "We're grateful for anything you can provide, though understand the United Nations is not quite the power now that it must be in your time. Will you be alright following orders from those not necessarily in your command?"

Harvest pondered the question for a few moments. "At the heart of the charter of the United Nations Space Command is an oath to preserve, protect, and defend Earth and all her colonies." She smiled. "There may yet be neither colonies nor a United Earth Government, but this is still Earth, and I am still sworn to her defense. I see no conflict."

As Harvest stood at attention and saluted, Yorktown smiled. Inside, however, one thought predominated above all: Oh boy, here we go.