The magazine shifted in Nashville's hands as she changed pages, her thoughts wandering as she scanned the image with a bored disinterest. The Sports Illustrated issue had seemed like a better choice then the astronomy magazine underneath it, but now that she'd skimmed it once already and failed to find anything on the Titans, Sounds, or Predators, she was starting to think she'd chosen poorly. The cruiser would probably give this magazine a few more minutes, if only to let her internal thoughts wander for a while longer.
Her sisters had braved another private aircraft back to Naval Station San Diego in the mid-afternoon, meaning a good portion of yesterday had been spent alone. She'd tried to spend that time looking for a hook up at a local bar, but apparently she'd ordered too much to drink and scared any potential suitors off. After a nervous bouncer coaxed her into a cab headed for her apartment at Smokey Point, she'd spent most of the night trying to find the damn place, eventually succeeding and slamming bow-first into the bare mattress in her new bedroom. One of the last thoughts she remembered was cursing the loose Wo-class, blaming her for Nashville's lack of success.
The Abyssal was responsible for a lot of things, but now that she was sober, Nashville wasn't quite sure how she'd ever pinned the blame for her own drinking habits on Trinitite.
Now, she was back in Everett's visitor center, politely trying to distract herself from her first headache by focusing on detailed images of athletes in action. The reason she was waiting in the visitor center in the first place, instead of doing something useful like interrogating those captured pilots or figuring out how to track any unusual food purchases, was due to arrive any moment now. She hadn't been too excited about the arrangement, but Lieutenant Commander Murray had figured that the Private Detective would do better if her primary point of contact was with Nashville, instead of him.
Well, The Cruiser probably wouldn't be making much progress in the ten-to-twenty minutes she was planning to spend here, but it was the act of waiting that she hated, despite its negligible consequences. Besides, Nashville thought she was starting to figure out her commander, and the way he acted when they talked about his former girlfriend wasn't normal. His face would tighten, ever so slightly. He'd either change subjects or excuse himself a little too quickly, and seemed to drift into thought more often than the intelligence officer normally did.
What did all that mean? Hell if she knew, although Nashville's guesses pointed towards pointless office drama. Katie Harmon better be exceptional, if they were going to add bad blood to the pile of issues that already plagued Operation Absolute Railway.
It was then, while her rangefinders roamed over a blown-up image of a tennis star, that the door opened again, interrupting Nashville's thoughts. She tried to look up as casually as possible, but Nashville was no actor, and immediately regretted snapping the magazine down as quickly as she did. Speak of the devil...
The Light Cruiser's first impression of Katie Harmon straddled confidence and arrogance. The private investigator stormed into Everett's visitor center with the self-assurance of a visiting admiral, her bronze, frazzled hair bouncing off her shoulders as she speed-walked towards the front desk. Like a commanding officer, her eyes darted between each of the building's occupants, but her gait lacked all the discipline she'd expect from an officer, and she didn't seem to do more than check each person in the room, lingering on Nashville's face as the cruiser returned her eye contact.
Maybe it was just her, but the Cruiser caught some sort of challenge in the human's eyes. At this point, she should be looking back at her magazine, but her pride ensured her rangefinders remained locked until the human looked away first. Nashville's identity wasn't a secret: She'd thought about wearing the stiff standard issue uniform or some of the clothes she'd gotten that weekend to make her look less conspicuous, but she doubted the human detective was expecting anyone except her ex to meet her, so she'd probably get a candid impression no matter what she wore. The split skirt, stockings, and shoulderless top she was summoned with would work as well as any other outfit, and it was what she was comfortable wearing.
Nashville returned to her magazine as the detective closed with the enlisted manning the front desk. While her eyes focused on how the facening system that kept the face mask attached to modern football helmets, her thoughts were thoroughly focused on the conversation she was pretending to ignore.
"I need a visitor's pass." The PI demanded, her voice clipped and low. The process shouldn't take long, as most of the bureaucratic work Murray needed the private investigator for was at the Naval Station's RAPIDS site, but even the basic checks the man at the desk made to ensure she had an appointment there, and then with Murray and Nashville's team, seemed to frustrate her. Obviously, she didn't want to be here.
When the conversation came to a close, The Sailor's discipline allowing him to bid the woman a nice day, Nashville lowered her magazine, giving her another view of her contact. The PI was already leaving the office, the visitor's pass bouncing off her dark coat's pocket as she left as quickly as she politely could.
"Katie Harmon?" The Cruiser asked, freezing the civilian mid-stride. As Nashville placed the magazine on the lobby's coffee table and stood, the human turned, giving her a neutral stare.
"And you would be?"
"USS Nashville." She provided as she closed the distance between the two, remembering the line Murray had suggested she used to introduce herself. "I'll be your primary contact in this case."
"Will you?" The Investigator's eyes narrowed, and for a moment Nashville expected some kind of confrontation, before her face suddenly broke into a smile, and she offered a hand to shake. "That's a relief. Is Brad too much of a coward to talk to me directly?"
After the moment it took for Nashville to place 'Brad' as Lieutenant Commander Murray's first name, she had to fight down an unexpected need to defend her commander. Murray was a lot of things, but Nashville had a hard time calling the man who'd faced down an abyssal with nothing but a megaphone between him and her 40mm cannons a 'coward.' Still, she accepted the handshake, hoping her displeasure wasn't too obvious to the human. She'd expected this kind of attitude from the private investigator, after all.
"Something like that." Nashville tempered, hoping to sidestep talk about her boss until they were in the office, at least.
As the two left the visitor center and approached the main gate, Katie Harmon spoke up again.
"So, I see mentioning Brad quieted you down some." If her oversweet tone wasn't enough to get on Nashville's nerves, the insinuation certainly did. "Has he wrapped his manipulative tentacles around another heart?"
The Light Cruiser gritted her teeth, feeling rage start to build in her boilers.
"I assume you're aware of fraternization regulations, Harmon?"
"Please!" The Private investigator laughed. "Everyone knows you shipgirls don't pay any attention to such things."
Oh god, not this rumor again. Nashville groaned, her head dipping enough that she had to brush away a lock of hair that fell in front of her face. Shipgirls were, by default, not considered public figures, but plenty had significant media attention, and with that came the tabloids. The rumormongers among their own ranks, like the infamous Aoba and that rag she managed in her free time, didn't help much either.
"Let's just get you that CAC card, alright?"
No wonder Murray and Katie had gotten together, and no wonder it didn't work out. Both were experts at driving Nashville up the wall!
The Lieutenant Commander met them once Nashville had escorted Harmon to their little office. As he approached the pair, his eyes locked with Katie's. Nashville could see the muscles in Her Commander's face tighten, but other than that, Murray betrayed no emotion. He gave the Private Investigator a stiff nod.
"Katie."
"Brad." Harmon returned, her emotions just as hidden. Abruptly, Murray's attention shifted to Nashville.
"You're back." Murray nodded, focusing on Nashville as if their guest wasn't there. "Shangri-La's in the briefing room. She should have everything set up for you two."
"Good." Nashville replied, looking back to the team's newest member. "Time to let you know what's going on."
"Finally." The prospect of a briefing was enough to distract Harmon from her ire. "Do you know how long it takes to drive from Anaheim to Here?"
"Twenty Hours." Nashville recalled, a discussion between her sisters from yesterday still fresh in her memory. It was why they had been forced to charter another airplane back, and why they probably weren't going to see her again until she had the time to figure out internet communication.
"Okay, not quite that long." The detective admitted, grumbling to herself as Murray returned to his work and the pair ventured deeper into the office.
Shangri La was in the briefing room, the Essex-Class carrier tinkering with a laptop while she whistled a tune that Nashville found oddly familiar, but couldn't quite place. The Carrier's Measure 33A uniform favored the light grey over the darker blue that dominated most of her sisters' attire, the pattern accented by a red sash that hung off her shoulder.
The Essex-Class Carrier had been brought into the operation soon after Trinitite had made landfall, as an asset who wouldn't get airsick from a rapid deployment and could go blow-for-blow with the massive Wo, but the Navy couldn't afford to keep one of their fleet carriers tied to Absolute Railroad indefinitely. Thus, she'd only been available sparingly, her deployments shuffled so she'd be relatively close in case the citizens of Washington needed her. It was also why she hadn't been given a full briefing in a while. A lot had changed since then, which was why she was sitting in here.
The fact it meant Nashville could count on someone else to set up Murray's electronic slide deck, the laptop, and the infamously finicky projector while The Light Cruiser greeted their Private Eye was an added bonus.
When the door opened, The Carrier jumped, her shock dissipating as she gave Nashville a friendly smile. For most other ships, that might be considered suspicious, but even though Nashville hardly knew her, she'd heard of The Essex before. It wasn't uncommon for Shangri La to become lost in thought like that. Some didn't trust her because of it, claiming the habit explained her collision in '65, but as far as Nashville knew she didn't have these issues when she could rely on lookouts to keep her focused.
"Ah, you're back." She smiled, glancing back at the table to search for something. "Ready to spread the bad news?"
"Not at all, but let's get over with this anyways." The Light Cruiser snarked, approaching the laptop. "Everything set up?"
"All ready." Shangri La announced, motioning to the wall the projector was lighting up. "I just need to remember where I set the remote down…"
"Wo-E6?" Katie Harmon interjected, reading the slideshow's title. "What is that?"
Judging by the expression on the Private Investigator's face, she'd made a pretty accurate guess.
"That's Trinitite." Nashville deadpanned. She wasn't going to play any games with the detective. "Sit down, I'll tell you everything we know."
"Found it." Shangri La reported. "Catch."
The incoming remote flashed in Nashville's vision, and almost instinctively she plucked the projectile out of the air. For a moment, she studied the device, trying to figure out the purpose of three of the remote's five buttons, before deciding it wasn't worth her time and looking back towards her audience. Both Shangri La and Katie seemed to be situated, so the Light Cruiser began.
"I've got some additional information here." Nashville started, removing two bundles of paper from her hold and placing them on the conference table. "Murray wrote it for a bunch of brass, though, so it's mostly tactical information."
Finding the 'next slide' button with her thumb, Nashville switched over to a pair of images.
"Oh, and feel free to ask questions at any time, alright?"
"Sure." Katie acknowledged, her voice flat and measured as she studied the images filling the wall. "That's an abyssal, right?"
Nashville nodded silently.
"Shit!" The PI suddenly exclaimed, her head falling into her palms. "Brad, why did you drag me into your fuckup!"
"It's not that bad." Shangri La tempered, reaching over the table to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder. "She hasn't hurt anyone yet…" Suddenly unsure of herself, The Essex shot Nashville a questioning look. "...right?"
"That we know of, yes." Nashville confirmed.
"Oh, goodie." The human groaned. "She just asked politely to come ashore, I take it?"
An urge to defend herself surged through her boilers, but Nashville suppressed the thought.
"I'll get to that." She said instead, turning back to the projected slide deck as she pressed the remote. An image of a damaged fighter jet and submarine filled the wall.
"Uh…" Nashville stalled. She really should have made her own slide deck instead of grabbing Murray's and calling it good enough, but that would required taking that course on Microsoft Power… something... and she had enough stress to worry about already. She should have budgeted more time practicing this briefing, though. "She's called Trinitite. She's pretty good at defending convoys, but doesn't have much else in combat experience.
"Until recently she served under the Jellyfish Princess, out of Bikini Atoll." Nashville continued. "Have you heard about the place?"
Shangri La flinched, but Nashville was more focused on the civilian. This next part was probably going to be the most difficult to talk about.
"There was a battle there a couple weeks ago, right?" Katie asked, her eyes tracing the bullet holes in the side of the australian jet.
"Right." Nashville affirmed. "We…" The statement she was forming suddenly died, as a question popped into her head. "Uh, one second. I'll be right back."
Careful not to destroy the carpet with her ruddered heels, Nashville abruptly pivoted and rushed out of the conference room. Murray was discussing something with an ensign on a laptop, the two's quiet conversation interrupted by The Brooklyn's approach.
"Lieutenant Commander?" The Light Cruiser hissed.
"Yeah?"
"Is Katie allowed to know about the... you know," Nashville gestured, pointing to herself, then towards The Pacific. "The link between us and them?"
Murray sighed, the spook straightening and looking towards the conference room. A second passed.
"...Go ahead." He finally nodded. "I don't think she'll be asking the right questions if we keep that from her."
"She's trustworthy?" Nashville asked for confirmation.
The Lieutenant Commander's expression soured, but he nodded again. "Confidentiality is a Private Detective's specialty. We're already showing her some pretty serious classified information."
"Alright." Nashville acknowledged, "I'll get back to the briefing, then."
"Go ahead." Murray ordered, and Nashville rushed back into the conference room.
"Okay, I'm back." Nashville announced. A phone started to ring behind her, the sound muffled as the door partially shut out the noise. "Sorry, I had to confirm something."
"Was it yes?" Shangri La asked, and Nashville nodded. It was a bit frustrating that the other shipgirl had known about the secret behind abyssal princesses, but she was more worried about how the private eye was going to act when she broke the news.
"So, the Jellyfish Princess…" Nashville started, leaning against the wall and trailing off. How was she going to say this?
"Go on?" Katie questioned, her expression betraying a lack of patience that Nashville was all too familiar with.
"When we took Bikini Atoll, we didn't sink her. We try not to sink princesses when we can afford to, really."
That got her attention, at least. The PI didn't vocalize the obvious question, but Nashville could read it in the way her brow arched.
"Princesses are… corrupted versions of our own ships or bases, I guess. If we can figure out how, there's a chance we can purge that corruption and bring them back over to our side."
A second passed, as Nashville watched the human's confusion turn to incredulity, then anger.
"Really?" She finally asked, "The conspiracy nuts are right about that?"
"They can't be wrong about everything." Nashville looked away, examining the damage in the photograph of the Montana. Did humans find that image as gruesome as she did?
"What the hell? How many secret abyssals are in the navy?"
"This Navy?" Shangry La asked, looking up at the ceiling absent-mindedly. "Two, I think."
"...Okay." Katie admitted, still incredulous. "You keep them in like, Wyoming, right?"
"Of course not!" The Essex-Class's focus abruptly dropped to the human, the sudden intensity in her rangefinders forcing her to jump. "I know them. Now that they're back to their senses, and know what it's like for those who're still corrupted, they're the most driven ships around."
"You know the Jellyfish Princess?" Katie asked.
"Former Jellyfish Princess…" Shangri La corrected sharply. Nashville was unsure where this focus had come from. Murray had said something about Jellyfish using the Wo's as a surrogate family, right? Had that been similar between Saratoga and the Essexes? "...and while I didn't get to meet her since she was purified, I knew her pretty well when we were both steel-hulls." Shangri La's eyes grew distant once again, as she slouched back in her chair. "One of the best damn warships I knew…"
"Is she around here?" Katie shifted uncomfortably, glancing back towards the conference door.
"We've got her in Japan, right now." Nashville reported, and the human relaxed slightly. Damn, no wonder they kept this stuff classified. If, no, when she got Phoenix back, she'd hate to see her sister getting this treatment from the public. "Anyways, it was thought that the rest of the Jellyfish Princess's fleet was sunk during the battle, but we were incorrect. Trinitite survived the conflict with serious damage, and must have witnessed The Jellyfish Princess revert to her true self."
Nashville hit the next slide button again, showing a map of the Eastern Pacific. A red circle showed where The Pacfic Lilly had made the unfortunate encounter with The Abyssal.
"On the Ninth, at Fourteen-Twenty One, the fishing trawler Pacific Lilly spotted your query. To their surprise, instead of sinking the trawler with her guns or aircraft, Trinitite ordered the trawler to heave to, boarding it and ordering The Lilly's captain to sail for the conten-"
The door suddenly burst open, Lieutenant Commander Murray leaning into the conference room with a grim look on his face.
"Something come up?" Nashville asked. On one hand, it was another interruption that was keeping this briefing from going smoothly, but on the other, there was a chance they'd gotten the lead required to wrap this up without getting a civilian involved.
"Pause the briefing." Murray ordered, dashing The Light Cruiser's hopes with a faint shake of his head. "The front gate called. We've got more guests who'll need a rundown."
"Guests?" Nashville asked, incredulous. "Why weren't we notified?"
"Doesn't matter." Murray said, turning his attention to Shangri La and Katie Harmon. "We'll have to restart this. Nashville, are you comfortable presenting to a US Marshall and two FBI agents?"
…
...Oh, god damn it!
Nashville needs a bit more practice in presenting information, methinks.
Man, I do not know how to google women's clothing terms well. I finally got a design for Nashville (and the rest of the brooklyns in this fic) into my mind, as a sort of hybrid between their AL interpretations and Helena's design. I do have photoshop and a tablet, so I should get to sketching them out. Sure, college classes started up again, but it'll be good practice for a… future event related to Trinitite, as well as giving me the opportunity to see what I could do to make an interesting design for Nashville's less… co-operative sister.
Also, I know that the rule in writing is show, don't tell, but I'm not going to walk the reader through every step of Harmon's admission into the military base. If I did the proper research I could definitely get the procedure correct, but I don't want to drag the reader through the details of DoD procedures, so I'm skimming over the bureaucratic stuff.
This interlude was supposed to include a bit more, but since the wordcount is starting to grow I'm cutting it off here. You readers have already sat through several briefing scenes, so the interlude after the next chapter will skip the full briefing scene, and pick up at the questions section.