Nashville stumbled, her heels struggling to find purchase on rough ground below. A layer of moss covered exposed roots and uneven rocks below her, leaving the shipgirl wishing she'd grabbed a good pair of boots before leaving for Bikini. At least the Wo couldn't be outpacing her with those stilettos of hers.

Ultimately, Nashville hadn't waited for a response from High before rushing ashore. While the Navy formed a committee on the issue or something, the Light Cruiser launched both her floatplanes and followed the Abyssal Carrier ashore. By the time Nashville had hit the Washington beach, the Farragut sisters in tow, her plan had received approval from command, but the enemy Abyssal had enjoyed over an hour to hike away from them. The Abyssal couldn't walk at anything approaching her cruising speed, but the literal rainforest that defined Olympic National park would make spotting her via Nashville's floatplanes difficult, at best.

Still, the Brooklyn-class wasn't going to do nothing while an Abyssal ran loose in Washington. Until she learned the Navy had a plan to deal with the monster, she was going to be out here, searching. Her orientation course after getting summoned didn't include any tracking classes, and this was the first time she'd wondered out in the wilderness like this, but there was a chance she'd stumble into some kind of hint, so she'd keep looking.

Pop!

Nashville jumped as the distant gunshot echoed through the forest and off the leaves above her. Speaking of chances…

Before she'd realized it, Nashville was scrambling towards the noise. Had someone found the Abyssal? Judging by the pitch of the sound, that was far too light for one of the guns the Wo was packing.

Pop! Pop!

The gunfire continued as Nashville wove between trees, the sporadic firing keeping her from getting lost in the unfamiliar environment. As she ran, one of her shoes slipped on a loose rock, sending the cruiser sliding across the forest floor.

Pop!

Resolving to pack survival gear in her hold the next opportunity she could get, Nashville jumped back to her feet, ignoring the green and brown stains that now decorated her uniform. There only seemed to be one firearm, and it had been shooting for a while. Was the Abyssal chasing someone?

When she finally found the source of the gunfire, she expected to have her questions answered, but when the shooter first appeared from behind a cluster of volcanic rocks, the exact opposite happened.

The fairy, clad in a colorless pilot's uniform, brandished a pistol no smaller than Nashville's fingernails. It's stubbly little hands were extended above her, pointing the firearm directly upwards. The thing would fire a shot into the tree above her, waddle over to the tree's roots and jump as high as it's tiny legs would take her, scrambling at the bark before abandoning her attempts and running back to her original spot, firing again.

Pop!

Nashville slowed, trying her best to approach the scene quietly. Her skill in stealth left a lot to be desired, with her rigging brushing against stray branches and her shoes crunching against the detritus below. Fortunately the fairy didn't seem to notice, single-mindedly focused on the tree in front of her and the target above.

"Hey! Hey!"

Pop!

"Hey!"

As a second voice replied to the first one, Nashville's attention was abruptly drawn upwards. Above, a second abyssal dangled, her tiny parachute hung neatly over one of the branches. Farther up and closer to the trunk, a terribly disgruntled black bear clung, swaying in so far up Nashville wondered if it would give way suddenly.

The bear, who seemed much smaller than Nashville expected, would abandon its attempts to cling to the flimsy summit of the tree and would try to descend. The fairy would fire at it, however, shaking needles free from the tree and chasing the unfortunate animal back up. The pilot would then dash to the tree's trunk, frantically trying to climb up and save her comrade, but the desperate bear would once again descend and the fairy would resume firing at it. Every time the bear moved, the entire tree flew back an forth, tossing the dangling abyssal around further.

It looked like she wasn't returning to the Benfold empty-handed.

"Hello there." She smiled, reaching up and plucking the stranded fairy like an underripe fruit. "I've got some friends I'd like you to meet." The Abyssal squirmed, her beady eyes squeezed shut as the light cruiser dropped her into the waiting squad of marines on her rigging.

Pop!

Nashville blinked as a bullet harmlessly ricocheted off her forehead, ruffling her bangs. The other fairy stood defiant, pistol trembling in front of her. The pilot stared back at the cruiser, her obscured eyes casting her goggles in a dull red glow.

"You're going to need a bigger gun, pal."

The Fairy's will broke, pistol dropping to the forest floor as the thing waddled away from the cruiser. The Abyssal's flight was abruptly terminated by an exposed root, however, the pilot tumbling over the obstruction to lay face-down in the dirt.

Nashville effortlessly caught up to her target, scooping up the prisoner and reuniting her with her comrade. She might not find the infiltrating Aircraft Carrier any time soon, but with two POW's for ONI to squeeze, she suddenly wasn't feeling so bad.

Now that she wasn't getting shot at, Trinitite had to admit the strange forest was pretty interesting. She'd thought she'd seen all sorts of wildlife in southeast Asia and the Pacific, but the trees alone were like nothing she'd seen before. Some mirrored a type she was familiar with, but the majority were an odd tree that stood completely straight, with thousands of strange green spikes sprouting from its branches instead of proper leaves.

Unfamiliar creatures darted to and fro, some scampering up to the Abyssal before rushing back into a bush or up a tree. The unfamiliar calls of birds filled the air, a symphony of noise that Trinitite found oddly soothing. A good way to offset her discomfort.

Sharp rocks and those dead tree-spikes constantly poked and scraped the Carrier's bare feet, but she figured the discomfort was a fair price to pay. If she'd spent all her time in this terrain wobbling on her heels, she'd never get away from the navy. Besides, the inconvenience diverted attention from actual damage she'd taken.

It could have been a lot worse. It would take days for Trinitite's crew to get a full picture of how poorly her air wing had fared, but to say 20% of her aircraft could be salvaged felt optimistic. Without any working elevators, the point was a little moot, but restocking her air wing would be… difficult.

Despite her time escorting the Abyssal supplies, she wasn't quite sure where they had actually came from. The fuel, ammunition and material the Crossroads Fleet didn't trade for just… showed up once the proper facilities had been built. She was certain she couldn't build something like a warehouse alone, let alone unnoticed by enemy aircraft, and even then she wasn't a Princess. She couldn't say for sure, but Trinitite had a feeling anything she put together would be as dead as the base on Bikini had been, once her princess had left.

She would have to scavenge, then.

That was something she could worry about when she wasn't being actively followed. She could never be sure, but the Abyssal figured she would try and gain distance until after nightfall. They certainly would still be looking for her, but if Trinitite spent her entire time running from the Navy, she'd never actually find her Mother. She would start scouting for ports her Princess might be in tomorrow.

According to her charts, the peninsula she'd landed on had a major port opposite from her landing site, meaning she had a lot of walking in front of her, first. She had the supplies to get there, but-

The sound of wind in the trees and birds above was interrupted by a deep gurgle as Trinitite's quartermaster disagreed.

…One of the shells had struck her galley, hadn't it? She'd have restock on food long before she could reach the port.

The Abyssal stopped, taking another look around her.

Where in the deep was she supposed to find that?

The sailor who lead Captain Fred Kelley into the Benfold's briefing room wasn't too intimidating. He imagined the man's M16 wasn't the best weapon for the ship's confined quarters, and the fact he alone was escorting Fred made the Fisherman think the Navy didn't actually consider him a threat. That was good, he guessed. When the Pacific Lilly had been swarmed by armed men, he was expecting much worse.

The briefing room was empty, save for two figures. The first was a woman, sitting in a tight-fitting grey dress. Blonde-brown hair fell down to her shoulders, a particularly loose bang partially obscuring an unnervingly-bright blue eye. From the dress's rough material, odd cut, and strange decorations, Frank would have guessed she was a shipgirl even if they hadn't met on a missile destroyer. The woman's gaze snapped away from a laptop in front of the other occupant, focusing on Kelly, but the other man kept his eyes on his laptop.

"Captain Fred Kelly…" He stated, reading from the screen. The officer was young, his face unmarred by any hint of hardship or health concerns, but kept slim by constant training and exercise. In short, he looked like the majority of people he would expect to see on this ship. "Born in Newport, California. Family moved north to Anchorage, where you graduated from Dimond High School in 1988." If it wasn't for the older blue camouflage uniform, he would have mistaken him for any of the other sailors he'd seen aboard. "Am I correct?"

The man finally looked up from his screen, making eye contact with the Fisherman with a neutral face. Fred frowned, his brow stitching. He wasn't, and he had been reading from a screen directly in front of him.

"I'm from Westport, sir." the Captain replied, not bothering to hide the suspicion in his words. "Class of '83, as well."

"Correct." The Officer nodded to the guard behind him, motioning for Fred to take a seat across from the pair. The fisherman could feel his escort leave the room as he sat, the hatch behind them closing with a soft click. With his nametag no long obscured by a screen, 'Murray' leaned forwards, propping his elbows on the table.

"Mister Kelly, before we begin I would like to say no criminal charges are being considered in the course of this investigation. The events surrounding you ship and The Abyssal are unprecedented. Right now, your crew is confined to their quarters in case of any medical or anomalous effects that might come from interacting with the Abyssal. This should be temporary. Once a cover story has been agreed on, you'll be returned to Seattle, where the Pacific Lilly will be waiting. You will be compensated for your time, of course."

This smooth talk might have calmed some of his employees' fears, but even if he hadn't been threatening Frank's life less than a day ago something about this man screamed 'untrustworthy.'

"And my cargo?" Murray was probably too skilled for unexpected questions to throw him off, but it was worth a try.

"We've had to confiscate that to ensure it hasn't been contaminated." The spook continued, shifting gears seamlessly. "You'll be compensated for that, as well."

"What'll happen if one of my crew starts talking?"

The shipgirl's face flushed, her eyes narrowing, but the Fisherman was focusing on Murray. A barely-visible twitch at the corner of his lip. a slight furrow in his brow.

"Then we'll take appropriate legal action." He replied, knitting his fingers in front of him. "Mister Kelly, once we have completed our investigation, our report will be issued to almost every navy on the planet. With so many people getting informed, it's only a matter of time before it's contents become public knowledge. After that, you and your people can talk as much as you like about it. We'll let you know when you can go public, but we will ask that you wait until we have enough information to present so we could avoid a panic."

That seemed reasonable. Frank nodded.

"Fair enough." Being belligerent wasn't going to help anyone, after all.

"Now, Mister Kelley. Describe the Abyssal's actions once she boarded your ship."

"Sure." He replied, leaning back in his chair. "You know the radio message she sent after boarding, right?"

"Yes."

"Well…"

As Fred Kelly recalled the Abyssal's behavior during her journey, his watched his audience carefully. The shipgirl, while initially apathetic, seemed to grow more interested as time went on, leaning towards Fred as he continued talking. The intel officer's face remained as neutral as ever, the man only offering the occasional question.

"So two of your crew asked the Abyssal why she was trying to enter the United States, and she responded?"

"Yeah." Kelly replied, nodding. "I could barely hear it from the kitchen, but I think she said she was looking for someone." The Captain hadn't meant to eavesdrop while preparing another meal, but he certainly didn't regret doing so. Hopefully the spook was telling the truth when he said they weren't considering criminal charges. If the Navy was looking for blame, the two sailors under Kelly would make a good target. Fred suppressed the guilt that tried to worm its way into his conscience, and continued. "You'll get a better account from them."

It wasn't like they had agreed on a false story for the Navy, anyways.

"Well, Mister Kelly, you've given us a lot to think about." The Spook stood, followed by his shipgirl companion. "I'll see if I can get some of your restrictions relaxed as we sail to Everett."

The guard was waiting outside. He motioned for Kelly to follow him, but Murray interrupted him before he turned.

"Oh, and before you lead Mister Kelly to his quarters, let him grab a meal from the Galley. Let the next one get a meal from there, as well."

"Aye Aye." He responded, before starting down the corridor again. After the odd pair disappeared back into the briefing room, the guard piped up. "Guess they liked what you had to say."

"Happy to help." He replied.

It was the first lie he'd said aboard. Why did talking about the Abyssal feel so much like betraying her?

Did an Abyssal just give him Stockholm Syndrome?

Abyssal fairy's a cute.

Not much to say here. I'm mostly going to be spending this section working with getting Trinitite to civilization, as well as sorting out what the Navy's going to do.

It should go fairly quickly, as there's a lot of fics out there that go over Shipgirl Survival (Mostly SI's). I'll be skimming over a lot of stuff I've seen before. Being in rural Washington instead of the south pacific should give me plenty to talk about, however.

It also gives me an excuse to title a chapter "Improvise. Adapt. Wo-vercome."