With the threat of abyssal submarines lurking below them and the Midway Princess' aircraft looming above, the deck of the USS John F. Kennedy was alive with activity. Sailors in jumpsuits of all colors scurried across the deck, waving and signaling to each other in a manner one might interpret as an intricate dance. An aircraft on one of the catapults, sleek and angular like an arrowhead, lurched forwards, leaping off the deck without a puff of steam. A prop-driven airplane, the size of a C-47 and carrying some kind of massive dish, skidded to a halt on the deck and started folding up its giant wings.

It was a symphony of roaring engines and spinning rotors, and the aircraft carrier Saratoga couldn't tear her eyes away from it.

"So… this is Langley's legacy."

The words came out in a whisper, drowned out by the noise below. The carrier (woman? shipgirl?) stood in the Kennedy's island, ignored by the busy sailors around her. Besides those seriously damaged in the battle with… her… Saratoga was the only carrier who wasn't out there, launching aircraft and contributing to the fleet's defense. Anywhere else on the Kennedy, the fact that she was doing so (again) would be driving her up the wall, but out here…

A sudden tap on her shoulder sent the carrier jumping, spinning to face the presence behind her. If she had yelped in surprise, it was lost in the roar of engines below. From the smug look on the man standing behind her, perhaps it wouldn't have mattered. Regaining her composure, Saratoga glanced at the officer's name tag.

"Lieutenant Murray?" Saratoga asked, recalling several jokes and stories she'd heard since she had… recovered. One of the masterminds behind the operation to rescue her. The Spook who'd lock himself in a room with nothing but intercepted transmissions and a notepad to keep him company. 'ONI's Abyssal Guy.'

He shouted something, pointing to his helmet ear protection.

Right. The noise.

Once a closed hatch was between the pair and the active flight deck, the officer ripped his helmet off, turning to the carrier.

Saratoga would describe the man as… average. Besides his older blue uniform, the man didn't particularly distinguish himself. His vaguely mixed ethnicity wouldn't have seemed out of place even during her time in the navy, and while he might have been considered well-built outside of the military, on this ship he certainly didn't stand out. Saratoga probably passed him in a passageway several times during her time on the Kennedy without noticing.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" He asked, smoothing his strictly-regulation hair.

"On deck?" Saratoga started, her questions temporarily forgotten. "Yeah. I was always looking for information on the future of carriers, but this…" The carrier waved her hand over the passageway, stepping aside to let a sailor past her.

"Launching and receiving at the same time? Electric catapults? Computers? Practically infinite service range?" Saratoga shook her head. The realization that the power that pundits had claimed would doom her children was instead their greatest asset didn't sit well with the carrier, but it had an irony that was growing on her. "And seeing it all… Even the passageways are wider."

The spook nodded.

"Have you had lunch? I didn't catch you at the galley."

It was only then that the carrier noticed the gnawing feeling in her gut. Was watching the Kennedy's flight deck so enthralling?

"I… guess it had slipped my mind." Saratoga replied, only allowing the thought to distract her for a moment. "You were waiting for me?"

"I was, yes." Murray nodded, starting down the passage and motioning for Saratoga to follow.

"I was wondering when you'd want to talk." She said, not content to leave the space between them filled with the Kennedy's ambient noise. "Lexie said you practically pounced on the last two former Princesses you were involved in."

"As it turns out, it seems that wasn't entirely necessary." The intel officer replied, looking over his shoulder before descending the first ladder. "It doesn't seem your memories as a Princess are stored in a regular manner."

She could have told him that. It was like she'd kept a log as an Abyssal Princess, but someone had torn all the pages out and left them scattered them around her decks. She could find a page and view a snippet of her life, but stringing them together was an arduous task.

A Wo-class Carrier, wallowing in the gentle waves of the Atoll as it burned.

Another princesses' Re-class cruiser, fear and contempt equal on her face as Saratoga denied The Abyssal's Master.

Crying into Lexie's shoulder, clinging to the Essex as if she was a life preserver.

Emotions, too, but they were scattered and mismatched. Perhaps she could have put it all together, but she firmly wanted to keep that part of her life behind her. On top of that, she feared there might be a threat in immersing herself in the past. Who knew if she could relapse, becoming the monster in the Atoll once again?

Better to ignore it, focusing on her time before Crossroads and the now. There was nothing good in that pit of self-pity and despair. Still… if the intel weenies needed something, she'd do her duty.

"They don't fade?" She questioned. The idea of those memories, that other self, lingering under the surface for the rest of her life, was terrifying.

"Everything fades," The Lieutenant replied, "but they never really go away. We're after the factual stuff, so giving you time seems like the best way to go about things." Opening the hatch to the officer's galley, Lieutenant Murray made a show of holding it open for the Carrier. "Ideally, we'd be talking about this in San Diego."

"What's the rush, then?"

"Something else just came up." Murray stated, following Saratoga into the galley. "You know why an Abyssal would hijack a fishing trawler?"

"They don't." She deadpanned.

"This one did." Murray shrugged.

The galley itself was fairly empty, with the Kennedy in GQ not many sailors had the time to sit down for their meal. Among the occasional off-shift officer, a woman out of uniform- no, a Japanese Carrier- stood out in the room. She got up from her meal, limping her way towards the pair.

"This one did what?" The carrier asked, half-eaten chicken wing in hand. "Zuikaku, by the way. I'm the one your girls stuck two torpedoes in."

"Oh…" Like an unexpected squall, guilt washed over Saratoga. She had been told she wouldn't be held responsible for her actions under the sway of the Abyss, but-

"Wa- wait!" The carrier flushed, grabbing Saratoga by the shoulder. "That wasn't your fault! I mean, the you you I'm talking to!" The woman shook her head, her pigtails brushing her shoulders. "Look, a while back I was one of them too. I understand."

"Really?"

"We'll talk about that once she's gotten some food." Murray interjected. "If a mere human like me got hungry waiting for her, I can't imagine what it's like for a fleet carrier."

She didn't feel too hungry, but if The Lieutenant wanted them to settle down before speaking she wasn't going to interject.

They'd found a table at the edge of the room, far away from the the rest of the galley's occupants.

"Now that we're eating, I'll try introducing myself again." Zuikaku said, placing a pair a chopsticks she must have brought with her on the table. "JS Zuikaku, former Abyssal Crane Princess."

Something clicked in the back of Saratoga's mind. A deathly white face, twisted in scorn. A coward like you is a shame to your fleet.

"You're one of the princesses that visited me personally." She'd thought the japanese carrier had been familiar, but had assumed it had happened during the war. Only after reviewing her shattered memories as an abyssal did she match her face to a ship. "You wanted my help in taking Okinawa, right?"

"Yeah." The japanese carrier said, pausing to take a bite of orange chicken. "It's a good thing you refused. If the Abyssals had one more capital ship in the Okinawa campaign, a lot of people would have died and I might have never come to my senses." If Saratoga remembered correctly, 'refused' was a serious understatement. The argument had devolved into an hours-long standoff.

"Oh." Saratoga replied, poking at a pile of mash potatoes the size of her head. "We still hold Okinawa?"

"Yes," Murray replied. "but it's not much more than a military base at this point."

The trio settled into a silence as they went over their lunch, the hum of the Kennedy's air conditioning and the distant activity of the kitchen providing them company.

Saratoga, despite her appetite, found it hard to focus on her meal. The conversation on their past lives had been surprisingly easy. Recalling the actual memories of the events had been confusing and more than a little frightening, but simply pulling facts from her previous life came easily and painlessly. Like she had a dispassionate report on the subject in front of her.

Her gaze drifted from her tray and to the damaged Japanese Carrier sitting across from her. As far as she knew, the only ships that had been modified with repair baths were the Amphibious Assault Ships that were sailing with their fleet, yet Zuikaku was relaxing on the American fleet's flagship. Murray and Saratoga meeting the the green-haired girl was no accident.

"So…" She started, sticking her fork in the pile of mashed potatoes like a flagpole. "Murray had you transferred here?"

The carrier looked up from her meal, her chopsticks still stuck in her mouth. "Hmm?"

"I did." The Lieutenant replied, before pointing his fork at the carrier. "That's an Abyssal expert."

"Rude to point, you know." Zuikaku replied, her words muffled by the meat she was chewing. The carrier stopped, swallowed, and spoke up again. "Anyways, you were talking about something earlier. Asking for Saratoga's advice, I think."

"Yes." Murray replied. "Before I start, though, the Navy's keeping a tight lid on this. The DIH is probably going to bring you into the loop the moment you get back to Japan, but until then I haven't told you anything, alright?"

Zuikaku nodded, looking back at Saratoga. At the American Carrier's shrug, Lieutenant Murray spoke up again.

"34 hours ago, some Abyssal cruiser snuck under some natural weather and jumped a fishing boat. Instead of blasting the idiots, who'd sailed way west of our coverage, she hailed them and requested they surrender. Then, the Abyssal's signature dropped off the radar, and the fishing boat stopped responding to hails. It's currently sailing east, and so far reconnaissance suggests she's still manned by her original crew."

"A lot of what you said there doesn't make sense." Zuikaku shook her head, her meal forgotten. "Princesses use human frequencies all the time for taunting, and sometimes submarines will watch any open channel they can find, but a cruiser?" As the carrier thought, the chopsticks started idly spinning in her hands. "Then they start sailing back towards America like nothing's happened?"

"That's correct."

"You sure this wasn't a princess? Some of the raiders in the Atlantic can hide their signature weather activity pretty well."

"Well ladies, it's going to be my job to find out." Murray sighed. "I've been reassigned to that case. My helicopter leaves in two hours."

"Let's spend that time figuring out this hijacking thing." Zuikaku interjected, tapping her chopsticks against the table. "You can leave debriefing Sara to me."

Saratoga nodded. "I don't know how ONI will feel about that, but this must be important. I don't have a good impression of the other princesses in the Pacific, but I'm sure a stunt like this would never cross their mind."

"Someone else in San Diego will handle Saratoga's debriefing." Lieutenant Murray said, standing and grabbing his tray. "Zuikaku, you know where my office is. I'll start looking through reports while you two finish eating."

As the spook left, Zuikaku turned back to her food. "So…" she said, grabbing another piece of orange chicken in her chopsticks. "Any ideas?"