From: ijnkirisima [REDACTED]
To: uss_washington [REDACTED]
CC: burning_love [REDACTED]
Subject: hello
I don't know how my sister discovered you've been summoned or obtained your e-mail address, but she started this e-mail and is standing behind me, making me writeWd-9yugda]—
Anyway, I want you to know that I don't resent you for having sunk me, okay? No hard feelings, I believe they say.
-Kiri
[ARCHIVER'S NOTE: See attached English translation.]
My poor boat…
The old trawler hadn't been top-of-the-line even when new – but damn it, it was reliable.
And, completely paid-for… wait, was it? Did he have any outstanding repair debts on the boat? He'd have to check the books, if he survived—
When he survived. Not if. When.
His father had bought the trawler when he was… what, seven?, when the family business' previous boat finally hit that magical age where it was 'too old' to continue repairing, patching or jury-rigging. Whether or not that was true, he'd never known.
He would inherit the family business – and boat – when his father retired.
Often, he'd wonder what the old man would make of the Abyssals. It was easy to imagine the man stubbornly sticking with his normal routine and taking the trawler out to fish, sea demons be damned. People still had to eat, after all, and the supplies shipped into the country on a regular basis by plane only went so far. His family… his employees, and their families… everyone had to pay their bills and make a living.
So, when the restrictions were… unofficially eased as the Abyssals' presence in the waters surrounding Japan seemingly diminished, the country's fishermen began leaping at the chance to make up for lost time and money, knowing full well it may only be a temporary respite, or worse – a trap. The Abyssals had proven themselves to be more than just mindless attackers. What were the odds that the demons weren't aware how potentially devastating crippling Japan's fishing industry could be?
But there were no attacks, the Abyssals instead concentrating solely upon the naval bases for the time being. The industry slowly, warily, returned to normal.
An attack was inevitable, yes. Except everyone had assumed that they would be able to see the Abyssals' approach…
He and his crew had set out in the trawler early this morning for a spot roughly forty minutes from shore. They'd caught a little more than expected for the day's work. Daylight had come and gone, and as the sun started to set he had ordered them to head for home. No sense tempting fate – or ship-sinking Abyssals – by lingering in such a remote location at night.
The boat had barely finished its wide turn when its hull disintegrated amidst a cascade of explosions. He was… catapulted over the side into the ocean, the sensation not unlike running full-tilt into a brick wall, and blacked out for a moment.
Next thing he knew, he was bobbing in the water, his oldest, best friend, Mishita, doggedly trying to keep him afloat. Three of the men who had been standing close to them when the boat exploded were huddled in a loose semi-circle nearby.
"Wh-what happened?" he spluttered. "An attack?"
Mishita released him, let him float on his own. The man shook his head. "We didn't hear any gunfire or cannons, or anything. Just—" Another loud explosion from the mostly-sunken trawler overwhelmed whatever else his friend said.
"Then why—"
What felt like ice-cold human fingers wrapped around his ankles and held tight. Instantly, the three men panicked, thrashing wildly in the water.
"Something's got me!"
The three were pulled beneath the surface one by one in rapid succession as he watched in horror, followed by Mishita.
And then… was he alone? The explosions and fires were dying, now, as his trawler had almost completely sunk by now All of the smoke was dissipating into the evening sky, with hardly anything left to feed it.
He tried to peer into the dark, murky waters, to no avail. Were there any other survivors, he wondered, members of his crew somewhere nearby?
Or had the mystery 'hands' – that were still keeping a tight grip on his legs – pulled every last one of them down into the depths?
If he yelled, hoping that someone, anyone, would respond? Or, if he did anything at all other than tread water…?
What in the world were the damned hands waiting for? Obviously, they were going to drag him under, just as they had everyone else. So why weren't they doing that?
As if dangling an answer to his unspoken questions before him like the lure at the end of a fishing line, the water ahead churned and frothed, swirling into a whirlpool.
A girl emerged from the eye of the whirlpool, and waded toward him.
Long, starkly-white hair. Complexion so pale and ethereal that her skin almost seemed to glow in the moonlight.
He might have considered her beautiful, if not for the inexplicable balls of golden fire that, somehow, illuminated her eyes from behind.
Was she a spirit, or youkai of some sort? Or…
This 'girl' had chosen to make an appearance after his boat sank, and his crew was lost.
…Abyssal, he concluded. What else could she be? And one of her Abyssal friends had her hands locked around his ankles.
"You sank my boat," he accused, as their eyes met.
A feral smirk turned the corner of the Abyssal's lips upward. "Of course I did," she replied, airily. "This land, and the ocean surrounding it, are mine."
She paused. "Unfortunately, I don't have enough submarines to completely encircle and blockade Japan." Her expression gained more of a sinister and predatory edge, almost as though… she was sizing him up. "Yet."
Indeed, the Abyssal floated closer. "You see, it's not as easy for a Princess like me to acquire submarines for her Fleet as one would think. Even an Elite, such as myself. Oh, I have no shortage of ships eager to join my Fleet… but I require submarines, and those are few and far between."
"Why are you telling me this? You're going to kill me, just like you did my crew."
"Kill?" The Abyssal laughed – a curious laugh that wandered, for lack of a better term; he'd never been all that skilled at gauging and describing others' emotional states… not that the monster would give him an opportunity to attempt to psychoanalyze her.
Besides, the official reports defined Abyssals as being both malevolent and psychotic, and this Abyssal had given him no reason to question that.
"No, I haven't killed your crew, and I won't be killing you." She smiled, resting the palm of her right hand against his cheek. Cold. Only a few degrees warmer than the hands holding him in place.
And an order more disconcerting. "Why would I murder my Fleet's newest recruits?"
What!?
His gaze flickered back to hers, only to be torn away when the Abyssal's friend decided his time was up, and pulled him under.
The Submarine Princess allowed herself to linger for a moment, floating in place while staring at the spot where her potential new lieutenant had been forced to tread water.
It… bothered her, ever so slightly, that she hadn't given the man one important tidbit of information. That although both her presence as an elite Princess and her desire for a specific type of ship boosted the odds, somewhat, she couldn't guarantee the Corruption would, in fact, produce submarines for her Fleet.
She was a Submarine Princess. Her fleet, her plans, required submarines, obviously. Any other type of warship was… useless.
Perhaps, if Japan had taken a cue from Germany and produced significantly more submarines, she wouldn't have had to resort to gambling for new recruits…
The irrational dark Rage surged and bubbled within her, and she mentally stomped it into submission, well aware that circumstances were rarely ever ideal during a time of war.
Did other Princesses suffer from the Rage? The urges to lash out and destroy came so readily, a fierce tsunami drowning her ability to think, reason and strategize. How many times had she had to restrain herself from shredding the nearest submarine – one from her Fleet who had the misfortune of being close to her when the Rage crested – or wasting fuel and ammunition erratically launching a pair of torpedoes in an effort to vent, uncaring what that pair might actually hit?
Her clone was of no help in this regard. If the copy Princess had to cope with the Rage, she didn't show it – instead, the copy maintained that same aggravating air of bemusement she'd had when they met in the caverns.
As if all of this… was mere entertainment for her.
Privately, the Submarine Princess kept watch for any sign or indication her double was working at cross purposes. Any excuse to have the copy sundered and be done with, a ship that, by the Abyss, should not exist at all. Merely being within close proximity to the copy unnerved her – and she was an elite Abyssal Princess, damn it! A Princess did not fear anything!
But… the clone hadn't attempted to hinder her plans in any way, and was – minimally – helping. She even pulled aside one or two members of the Fleet on a semi-regular basis to spend an evening with them behind closed doors. Possibly a performance review? Or special training?
No one among the ships of the Fleet would reveal what those sessions entailed. Concerning? Definitely. Yet so long as there were no complaints, or adverse changes in her ships' performance, the Submarine Princess would let it slide.
For the sake of her plans, her Fleet's submarines were of the utmost priority. She couldn't afford to treat her subordinate ships like so much disposable fodder, as Princesses were wont to do. No, she needed a fleet vast enough to cut an entire country off from the rest of the world and sink it.
Hopefully, the Fleet was about to see an influx of new submarines.
Wireless microphone in hand, Naka leaned over the table at the head of the pavilion to offer her fans an exuberant wave.
"Thank you for attending today's concert and signing. Did you enjoy the concert?"
The crowd's cheers swelled to a deafening roar and buffeted her before she could finish asking the question. She giggled. "Oh, and I can never thank you enough for all the fan mail you've sent! I can't answer everything, but I do read it…" Left unsaid, was that she was the last person in the chain to see the mail. The staff did screen it, first, forwarding copies to the police or whatever lawyers they retained if necessary for legal counsel… and only after they finished passing the mail around like folded notes in a classroom did they hand their idols what remained.
At least the agency didn't believe in completely shielding them from all the questionable stuff hiding among the fan mail. There was the occasional yellow sticky-note attached, warning them to 'keep an eye out for this person' or 'maybe you should avoid this topic,' things like that.
She clasped her left hand to her chest. "…and, I carry your best wishes with me in my heart every time I head out to fight."
This time, the cheers were sporadic and hesitant. Reserved? Hmm. Not quite the response she had anticipated.
Did I do something wrong? Maybe I didn't believe it enough? I'll bet that's it.
There really wasn't time to worry about her performance, however. She had a script to follow.
Mostly. Never let it be said that she was incapable of improvising.
"Mooou!" She pouted. "I'm serious! Your support and belief in us give us strength!" Here, Naka emphatically pointed toward the heart of the crowd. "So don't let anyone tell you you're unable to help. We couldn't do our jobs without you."
Ah, there, she thought, as the crowd erupted into a stronger cheer. That was a lot closer to what she had expected.
Naka's manager, in the seat next to her, leaned forward over his microphone – an old, bad habit, apparently – to speak.
Already, her thoughts were beginning to stray, to some extent, as they always did whenever she dwelled upon this particular speech. How much of it was true? Did the public's support and beliefs really play such an important role in shipgirl power… even for the Awakened shipgirls?
Or was it as one of the staffers had put it when he'd thought she couldn't hear – 'blowing more sunshine up everyone's skirts?'
So many people never seemed to remember that shipgirl hearing quite outclassed normal Human hearing, and often freely repeated things they didn't want anyone else to hear with a shipgirl somewhere in the room.
There was a reason Aoba was considered dangerous off the water as well as on.
She hadn't decided what she ultimately thought of that particular concern. As an idol, she had been trained to take advantage of that improved sense of hearing and her other shipgirl abilities, to aid in reading and manipulating her audience.
But… questionable uses of her abilities aside, she refused to imagine life without those same abilities. They were a large part of her reason for being. The light cruiser Naka, called forth from the past and reborn as a shipgirl, to combat a new threat roaming the seas?
Idol or not, she was now a part of this war. And backing away from it in any way felt wrong.
"Seeing as how our concert ran a little long," her manager declared, eliciting an embarrassed blush from Naka, "we'll be cutting the signing short accordingly. The venue wants to start setting up for this evening's show as soon as possible. So, if everyone would please start forming a line…"
Naka mentally frowned. Hey, not my fault you told me to always acknowledge the audience as much as possible, she griped.
Time to get back to work, she resolved, ignoring the expected groans from the crowd as she turned in her chair, reaching for one of the stacks of autograph boards behind her.
Someone tried booing, only to be immediately silenced.
The first fan in line eagerly dropped a tall tower of her CDs on the table. Oh, this is gonna hurt.
A knock, and a hesitant "Naka-sama?" filtered through the door to Naka's dressing room.
"Just a minute!" she called. Stifling a yawn, Naka drew herself up from her seat on the room's couch.
The woman waiting in the hall bent forward in a respectful bow almost as soon as she opened the door. "Good evening, Naka-sama. My name is Ishigawa Touko, and I'm here to escort you to your car," the woman announced, tapping the laminated Pavillon Staff badge she wore a couple times to draw Naka's attention to it.
Naka spared the badge a quick glance. Everything matched, as far as she could tell… but people had forged the badges before, to get close to her or other talent, and she was far from being any sort of expert on detecting forgeries.
Not that she was worried. While the venue required the escorts, having seen an increase in stalkers or the more shady aspects of idol management waiting to snatch up innocent idols, she had watchdogs of her own lurking nearby, ready to deal with any lunacy that dared to try to involve her.
And… she was a shipgirl, too. Heavens help anyone foolish enough to make a move on this idol, let alone kidnap or otherwise ambush her.
Grabbing her sports bag from where it had been resting atop the vanity, she looped the straps over her shoulder and fell in alongside the woman.
"You were great out there today, as always."
Naka sighed, shaking her head. "It could have been better."
She could feel the woman's gaze studying her. "How so? As far as I saw, everything went off without a hitch. Sure, the show ran over, and the crowd was a little sluggish in-between, but that's all minor stuff."
The remark brought Naka short, in mind if not body. Her crew would see to it that she didn't stray from the course. Minor…?
Spoken like someone who'd never really performed on-stage.
Or maybe… the woman had, at some point, and she was trying to block the traumatizing memories? It was possible, Naka supposed. Either way, one's actual first live performance in front of an audience of hundreds or thousands of people – how big was the Pavillon, again? – nobody could ever forget that.
Even now, she was still reviewing every minute of her performance. Every error she had made. What she should have done, instead…
"Naka-sama…?"
She blinked, and immediately took stock of her surroundings. The shipgirl-turned-idol stood just shy of a limousine – the basic off-black sedan her agency used.
Her hand was lifting the rear door's handle, a second from pulling the door open.
"I was gonna get the door for you," the woman admitted, rather awkwardly, as Naka passed her bridge crew a quick thank-you. "But you seemed to be lost in thought, and kinda sped up at the end, there."
At a prodding from her captain, Naka tried to force a smile. "Ah. I was… uh, just thinking about a few things. And what you said."
"Oh?"
"Yes." She nonchalantly eased the door open and slid around it, effectively placing a barrier between her and her escort. Naka lifted a foot onto the threshold. "I'll… try not to obsess over all the 'minor things' so much."
A lie. The mild distaste surged and broke against the back of her throat. She hoped none of it was leaking through her hastily-formed mask of innocence; the agency had only offered her extremely basic and general hints on how to lie convincingly, 'just in case.'
Control the discussion. Redirect it.
"Umm… it's just that… you know, my schedule's been really busy, lately, so I have a lot on my mind. And, once I return to base, I'm on standby all the time. Have to be ready to deploy if something happens." That neither Naka had buckled beneath the demands of their schedules was… surprising. Yes. Very much so.
The woman froze. "They don't give you girls time to sleep?"
"They do," answered Naka. "I can also request that I not be disturbed unless the situation is critical." Both Naka and Ayane were definitely not night-battle… 'enthusiasts' like their elder sister, and had adamantly refused to make themselves available for late-evening or night missions.
Though, in Ayane's case, it was perhaps more posturing than anything else. The agency had essentially thrown a fit on discovering that Admiral Goto had allowed Ayane to tag along on an afternoon patrol as an observer.
They couldn't stop Naka from deploying to fight the Abyssals. It was a major part of Naka's being – and indeed, the public expected it of her. Their reincarnate-in-reserve, however?
Kanzaki Ayane would never set foot into a battlefield, if they had any say in the matter.
"Regardless, if they do specifically need me, I'll go. Doesn't matter if it's in the middle of the night, or during one of my concerts."
A pained look flashed through the woman's eyes, and was quickly replaced with resignation. "So… you're a warship first…" Pause. "…and… an idol, second." Something about that momentary hesitation led Naka to wonder if her escort had meant to end on a slightly different comparison.
"When the Abyssals are no longer a threat… that's when I can finally, truly relax. Until then… I don't know. I'll try to find some way of… letting off some steam."
She ignored the low groans that emerged from her bridge at that joke. Hmph. Just what she needed, more critics.
Naka inclined her head. "Thank you for seeing me to my car, Ishigawa-san. Now, if you'll excuse me, I probably should be on my way. They tend to worry if I or someone from my security retinue is late reporting in." Only Yamato had it worse; the JMSDF were so afraid of something happening to their treasured battleship that Yamato, Yeoman Akai or a member of Yamato's retinue, if present, were required to check in at regular intervals. Or maintain an active comm line, if that were at all possible.
As if ordinary Humans would be able to ambush and subdue Yamato that easily. Abyssals, maybe – but if Abyssals were infiltrating inland, that was a whole different set of problems. The normal Abyssal mindset far preferred leaving utter destruction in their wake over stealth and infiltration… even for submarines.
Yokosuka had seen an Abyssal run through its streets only once. An 'Installation,' they called her, curiously wanting nothing to do with her own… people? and seeking asylum at the base.
That same 'Princess' was stationed out in the Bay, now, doing a remarkable job at helping the JMSDF keep the waterway enemy-free.
"Plus, I actually did plan to take a nice long nap when I get back to my quarters," she concluded, nodding.
A hint of a squall worked its way into the older woman's expression, but it dissipated almost instantly. Had she imagined it? "Oh. Don't let me keep you, then. Go. You've more than earned the rest."
Naka blinked. "Th-thank you," she acknowledged, silently scolding herself for the slip, while she finished climbing into the sedan.
The woman closed the door behind her.
She settled into the seat opposite her manager, deliberately avoiding staring through the tinted windows at the world outside the car as their driver pulled away from the curb.
Only when they were well into traffic did she allow the final vestiges of her tension – and act – to ebb.
Ayane met her manager's gaze. "How did I do?" she asked, a touch of dread apparent in her otherwise lackluster voice.
She was definitely not looking forward to the man's critical evaluation of the day's performance. At all. Why couldn't they just let her go back to her quarters and collapse onto her futon, like she so very much wanted to do right now?
"You did well, for your premiere. We're waiting to see what everyone says on social media tonight, though."
What? Was that it? No in-depth critiques of every single time she'd failed to be suitably Naka enough?
Huh.
Ayane had begun the day fully expecting to make mistakes. Many mistakes. The only thing preventing them from tossing her in the deep end from the very beginning had been the so-called shipgirl 'period of adjustment.'
That had finally finished three days or so prior, or at least that was when she discovered it was no longer a problem. Conveniently, right before one of Naka's scheduled concerts. And then, Naka and Sendai were assigned on temporary loan to Sasebo. Fleet Activities Sasebo had unfortunately lost a cruiser and her destroyer escorts to an Abyssal ambush, insisting that they didn't have the funds to justify a summoning for the time being.
Meanwhile, she was left to hole up in her quarters and spend her every waking moment trying to memorize Naka's set list for the concert. Lip-syncing wasn't an option, as much as her manager had asked her to consider it – Ayane was sure she was nowhere near skilled enough at acting to fool Naka's legions of fans, and no doubt the entire world would be up-in-arms about it by the end of the night.
"…should definitely get some rest when you get home. Remember, you have that appearance on Good Morning, Tokyo early in the morning. We'll run through as many of the questions we think they might ask as possible on the drive there."
Her stint as an assistant-slash-gofer, eventually upgrading to a rookie member of Naka's staff at the agency had given Ayane some indication of just how busy an idol's schedule truly was, behind the scenes.
She still wanted to be an idol.
Naka's schedules tended to put 'normal' idols' schedules to shame. And even then, the agency's demand that their Naka not be involved in anything military gave Ayane more free time for them to fill.
How Naka managed to find time to play online multiplayer computer games and have talked three battleships and an aircraft carrier across three countries into joining her, Ayane didn't know. Maybe they should place Naka in charge of the world's peace accords; the Idol of the Fleet would have everyone bonding over several rounds of Call of Duty.
She still wanted to be an idol.
Ayane cast a peripheral glance toward her manager. The man had fallen silent, his attention fixed upon the scenery streaming past them as the car continued on its route – although she had no idea what, exactly, he was seeing through the car's ridiculously over-tinted and dark windows.
Maybe, if she switched to night vision, she might be able to see something…?
Ahem.
There were those who swore that all shipgirls suffered from some form of insanity. Whether or not that was true, Ayane didn't know. She had met one or two… unusual shipgirls, after becoming a shipgirl herself. But, thanks in no small part to Naka and their agency, she hadn't had enough exposure to other shipgirls to form her own conclusions.
Honestly, though, who brought World War Two warships into the modern world as humans without expecting the resulting shipgirls to have quirks, or unexpected ways of looking at everything?
Kanzaki Ayane was one of those shipgirls. Who wanted to be an idol.
Her own personal insanity, she supposed.
Ayane closed her eyes, turned her sight inward into her bridge. What do you guys think?
Her captain turned to face her 'presence,' and nodded. "Desu."
Glad to see we agree on something, she snarked.
It's normal to feel nervous when you're inside the command center, here at the base. A large room filled with multiple oversized screens and machinery, staffed at all hours by a handful of techs who are always on the move, monitoring whatever they can see of the Pacific Theater.
In this room, the Admiral – or the ranking officer in charge – directs the base's ships.
Usually, when Nagato, Mutsu or I enter the room, we're accompanying the Admiral, standing by as he takes command of the Fleet in times of urgency.
Issuing orders to ships on missions and in battles against deadly enemies none of the people or equipment here could normally detect, unless they were practically face-to-face with an Abyssal.
While we shipgirls are better-equipped at the moment to detect Abyssal ships, our hardware and magic can't do much with signals filtered through 'normal' equipment.
As far as I can tell, aside from our roles as the Admiral's aides, there's very little benefit to having three battleships simply stand off to one side of the 'War Room.' Nagato can tell you without much deliberation whether or not we have the resources to commit to an operation, right down to the lot invoice numbers and projected costs. Me? What can I do, here, other than maintain position and look imposing?
I should not be here. However…
There has been… some kind of change. I have noticed, recently, that the atmosphere here in the War Room feels more and more… welcoming. Calming.
I may be imagining it, but I even seem to be thinking clearer.
It's almost as if… the War Room wants me to be here. I'm not sure I want to think about that possibility right now.
The reason for our early visit this morning was that Sasebo, still reeling from the sudden and unfortunate loss of three valued members of their fleet, had received reports that an Installation had parked herself just within range of the base. Since it was never – correction, almost never – a good idea to allow an Abyssal Princess and whatever fleet she likely maintained to essentially set up shop next door to their base, Admiral Nitsugi wasted no time in setting up a force, intending to confront the Installation while she was 'settling in,' and destroy her.
He'd asked Sendai and Naka to participate in the operation. That provided us an opportunity to keep a channel open and eavesdrop on everything… an appropriate term, as Yamashiro was also assigned to the force, and we weren't sure how she would react upon discovering we were listening. While Yamashiro had toned down her demands to join her sister here at Yokosuka over time – and, I suspect, a few conversations with her Admiral and his subordinates – she hadn't given up, and insisted on attaching herself to Naka and Sendai practically every moment she was off-duty.
Fusou's schedule clashed with her sister's, making it difficult for them to schedule a good, long phone call. Neither Yamashiro nor Fusou used PCs, ruling out email or any form of live chat aside from standard phone calls. Our admirals have been floating the thought of giving them a few days' leave so they could finally spend some time with each other… except no one was sure we would be able to pry Yamashiro away from her sister afterward.
Sendai's voice buzzed over the room's speakers. "We're entering the Installation's territory now. Should be within visual range soon."
We heard a lone cannon round whistle through the air, presumably a warning shot from the Installation, which impacted somewhere close to Sendai's position.
"They're moving to attack!" someone shouted. "Open fire!"
'They.' So, the Installation does have a fleet of her own. Be careful, everyone…
Sendai was unusually quiet for a tense moment, while the sounds of cannonfire ramped up in intensity. "Hey, uh…" she ventured, "Our Installation. Is she… is she still out in the Bay? Where she's supposed to be?"
I felt my eyes widen. What!? Why wouldn't Oki-chan be on her islet? She rooted herself in place, as Installations often do. And Installations usually didn't go for a walk once they claimed their territory, much less expand their territory themselves or head for different regions.
"As far as we are aware, she is. Why do you ask?" Nagato answered, as I instructed my crew to contact the outposts at the mouth of the Bay.
"This Installation…" Sendai paused in order to elevate her guns into position and fire a couple of shots. She clicked her tongue in frustration. "Dammit. As I was saying, this Installation looks and sounds exactly like her."
"Why am I not surprised?" Mutsu muttered under her breath.
The stare her sister turned on her was one Mutsu and I both recognized, half warning and half reprimand at the same time.
"Lemme contact you directly, so you can hear it for yourself."
We each started as the Installation's loud screams and rants suddenly blasted through our bridges. "…sink! Sink! Sink! You will ALL SINK before you can get anywhere near my stockpiles! Be rended and sink, sink, SINK, you pathetic fools!"
I winced. That… did sound like Oki-chan, yes.
"I take it from your expressions that Sendai is telling the truth," the Admiral surmised, his voice somber.
"I don't know who that is," insisted Nagato, "but that is not Oki-chan." She fidgeted, just a little, as if she very much wanted to argue the point further yet wasn't sure how.
"With all of the junk she's hoarded, she probably could have constructed two or more copies of herself by now."
Mutsu was decidedly not helping. She had to know that even if Oki-chan had access to ship-construction facilities as an Installation, while ship-builders can copy a ship, they cannot copy a ship's spirit.
And the outposts would definitely notice any attempts Oki-chan made at building a ship. Particularly something on the scale of a battleship, let alone two or more.
Could the Abyssals possess some dark, demonic method of cloning a ship and her spirit? As much as that thought bothers me, I wouldn't put it past them.
My radio lit up, again; the outposts were pinging me. I tapped two fingers to my earlobe and acknowledged them.
"Yamato?"
I exhaled. "Reports from the outposts, sir. They each confirm that Oki-chan has not moved from her position. Apparently, she has been playing games on her handheld all morning."
Mutsu clicked her tongue in disapproval, but I ignored it. Oki-chan's Vita, practically the only remnant of her 'former life' the Supply Depot Princess had been allowed to carry forward. The game system kept her preoccupied and sane, when she wasn't burying herself in her work. She and her imps had worked out a way to keep the thing charged through connecting it to her generators, and her crew also monitored the bay and her projects while she played.
She'd tried to talk the Admiral into allowing her the use of a smartphone, somehow, as her existing phone had been rendered mostly useless after her parents removed her from their plan. But the Admiral had had reservations about the idea. All it took, he reasoned, was one person noticing her use her phone – a passing crewer, someone aboard a TV news helicopter – and then people would ask questions. Why were we giving a defected Abyssal Princess ready access to a phone or the Internet?
Nagato turned on one heel and proceeded to maneuver around a row of terminals on her way to the door. "Yamato, you're with me," she ordered. "I want to… check on a few things with Oki-chan. Admiral, can we be kept up-to-date on the engagement?"
The three of us stared at her in silence, studying her, trying to determine her intent.
"I don't like the idea of you two heading out there alone, if there's a chance the Abyssals are involving her in their plans," the Admiral ultimately demurred. "Take an escort."
"Yes, sir," Nagato and I chorused. An Abyssal Princess using Oki's appearance and voice near Sasebo was hardly a herald of an assault upon the Bay. Yet, we would be remiss if we didn't at least try to account for every possible turn of events. Abyssals have a bad habit of picking the most destructive, unexpected objectives.
And with that, Nagato was once again on the move.
I pushed more power into my stride to catch up to her, hoping that the Admiral or anyone else in the War Room couldn't tell how anxious I was to leave it.
"Who's available?"
"Takao and Atago are on-call, as are the Ayanami sisters," I informed her. "Should we have a submarine or two accompany us?"
Normally, submarines might be considered overkill for a simple escort. The truth of the matter was that our… unconventional anti-Abyssal defense in the Bay has proven more effective than anticipated. Oki-chan's strengths as an Abyssal Installation were well-suited for intercepting enemy attempts to strike at our base through the Bay, enough so that the Abyssals were now making the occasional effort to sneak submarines past her, as opposed to launching ship after ship at her.
As a land-based Installation, the natural, easy assumption was that Oki-chan was least-equipped to deal with submarines. Any enemy subs who dared venture within range soon found she had torpedoes and was perfectly willing to use them.
Improvised ASW measures that she and her crew had created, the most notable of which were the naval mines she'd lain throughout her territory. Oki-chan can order them to go inert and retract at will.
So, yes, there was a chance we could encounter an enemy submarine in the Bay. A very slight chance.
We can only guess as to why the Abyssals aren't using that tactic more often, They waste more ships on a regular basis attacking a full-fledged Installation above the water than below.
Maybe… they don't have the submarines for it?
Nagato frowned. "I'll take it under advisement."
The Abyssal girl that had previously been Human cursed her utter inability to move, as she often did.
Installations were not designed with mobility in mind, even for those who began their existence as a warship. Powerful fortresses did not move. An Abyssal never surrendered that which she had claimed.
Once an Installation assumed her rightful territory, that was it. Nothing shy of complete annihilation would loosen her grip.
She'd known that accepting her role as an Abyssal Installation would be passing a Point of No Return, much like the Point she had passed in becoming an Abyssal.
Damn it, she wanted to be useful. To find purpose after having been changed into a monster.
What were her options, if she didn't offer her strength to the Navy? Operate as a vigilante, plotting hit-and-run strikes against Abyssal fleets on her own? Or live in seclusion, forever hiding herself from Humans, shipgirls and Abyssals alike, desperately trying to survive? No reliable access to information, repair facilities, or even food?
Whatever her choice, could she hope to assemble a fleet of like-minded ships? Enough, for a time, to halt her descent into… what? Madness, despair, fury, more. No matter which lesser path she chose, Oki was sure each would ultimately lead to her destruction.
Even here, in the best possible outcome, with full support from the base and Akashi helping her imps keep her in working order, as much as possible – repairing and maintaining Abyssals was brand-new territory for the repair ship – it was only a matter of time.
How long would it be, until the monsters lucked out and broke through her defenses? Or they decided to take her seriously, and sent far more powerful Princesses her way?
Right. Time.
She existed in sort of a… hyper-aware state, conscious of every minute of each day, what felt like a permanent caffeine high.
Was that normal, for Installations? The only Abyssal she could ask was Yahagi – but Yahagi's experience was limited to being a Princess, and an Installation was a step up in rank and power from Princess. Yahagi had almost seemed afraid to even consider looking at things from the perspective of an Installation.
Guess promotion was an alien concept to the Abyssals. One was born in her role… and that was it. No hope for advancement. But considering how cavalier the Abyssals appeared to be about throwing their ships at enemies, it made sense, in a twisted and dark way.
Every Abyssal she had met, was an individual. Humans and shipgirls were being transformed, brainwashed, into Abyssal ships to fill out the ranks. In return, the All-Consuming Abyss, or whatever else was in charge, treated them all as if they were disposable. Easily replaced.
Why? Did the Abyss view its ships as a faceless mass of darkness? Slowly building momentum like a tidal wave to surge forth and engulf the world, swallowing it into the deepest depths of the Abyss from where it could never hope to return?
And all life… would become Abyssal.
She shook her head to clear it of morbid thoughts. No. Abyssals generally weren't stupid, and could use tactics. They were able to adapt, given an opportunity.
So, if the Abyssal leaders' goal was to overwhelm the entire world and drag it down into the Abyss, why bother allowing their ships to have free will? To pop into existence in the middle of nowhere, doomed to wander the oceans unless they found a dock or fleet to call home… at which point they would begin their struggles against the world's navies.
One would think the Abyssals didn't actually have any sort of 'high command.' The Princesses set out into the world, gathering their fleets, and acting upon their hatred and grudges. Perhaps, all they knew about the Abyss was that it was 'hungry,' and they had no concerns about feeding it.
But… if the Abyssal commanders in the area had remotely any intelligence, why weren't they using better tactics against her, by now?
It never failed. Every time she tried to make sense of the Abyssals, her mind or her imps would raise a counterpoint that led her thoughts back around in circles.
That was why she spent most of her time occupying herself with playing games on her Vita, wasting time on the internet or watching TV, concerning herself with all the little details her crew normally handled – puzzling over her new reality and the war into which she'd been catapulted with all the delicacy of a torpedo impacting against a ship's hull, was an exercise in frustration.
More so during those times when her Abyssal nature muddled her mind.
Nagato had radioed ahead; she and Yamato were underway to pay their more prominent Abyssal 'defector' one of their usual little visits to check on her and talk.
Along with an escort consisting of Shikinami, Ushio, Ayanami, Takao and Atago. Hmm. It was barely even afternoon. Admiral Goto must have been worried the battleship shipgirls might encounter something dangerous out here.
Why hadn't she been informed about any lurking threats? She considered the two battleships to be friends. Fierce, no-nonsense and painfully blunt Nagato, who actually cared about her well-being and fussed over her. Yamato, who naturally seemed quite imposing and radiated both strength and beauty – no, she was not jealous of Yamato's beauty or figure, nope! – yet behind it all, the battleship was as adorably nervous and socially awkward as any normal Human teenage girl. There were times when she'd wanted to just pull the taller girl into a hug.
If there was anything in the area that could pose a risk to both battleships at the same time, someone should have informed her about it! She should be confronting any threats before they had a chance to reach Nagato and Yamato, or face it alongside them!
Her eyes flared, a maelstrom of rage swirling within. hOW dARE tHEY tHREATEN oUR fLEET!
Oki brought her clunky Abyssal black-armored boots down in a heavy stomp upon the mental construct that served as her "twin's" head. Stop that, she ordered. They are our friends. NOT our fleet.
The rage in her twin's voice lessened somewhat. tHERE iS nO dISTINCTION. yOU hAVE cLAIMED tHEM aS yOURS. wE wILL SINK aNYTHING tHAT tHREATENS uS aND oUR fLEET.
She paused. I didn't claim anything.
yOU cANNOT lIE tO mE. A laugh, and Oki blinked in surprise as she was ejected from the mindscape, her eyes finding bright afternoon light where there had been muffled, drab shades of black and gray a second earlier.
"Had to get the last word, huh?" she grumped, though without any actual heat.
She couldn't pinpoint exactly when or how it had happened. Somewhere along the line, her Abyssal side had coalesced into a sort of 'separate being' in her mind. A being that could talk to her. Argue with her. Hell, it could do the mental equivalent of punching or slapping her – precisely whatever she was capable of doing to it, it was likewise capable of doing to her.
As far as she could tell, from observation and her own fumbled attempts at broaching the topic with Yahagi without outright asking the Abyssal cruiser about it, Yahagi didn't have a similar problem.
Oki had decided that nobody needed to know about the 'separation…' for now. No sense giving them more reason to question her state of mind.
Besides, having her Abyssal side as an almost-separate being was technically only a step up from the inescapable nightmare it had been. Her 'twin' continued to have influence over her mind, and still wasn't any more informed about the Abyssals than she was. Nagato would be disappointed.
Oh, Nagato meant well. The battleship tried to be subtle about it, but even a nobody civilian like her could see the questions Nagato asked every time she dropped by for what they were.
Oki wished she could give Nagato the kind of information the shipgirl was hoping to find. A hint, to give them an edge over the Abyssals. A vulnerability, to turn the war in their favor. Something.
She had nothing.
Nagato was due to arrive soon, undoubtedly with more questions to ask; she was tracking the battleships and their escort on radar. Ha. Here she was, a high-ranking example of Abyssal power – and practically useless for anything other than firepower or mass destruction.
tHAT iS nOT wHAT yOU tHINK.
Wasn't it? What do you mean? she asked, but there was no answer.
Deciding there was little point in arguing with herself, Oki delegated the task of keeping an eye on the Bay to her crew, and made an effort to relax, preparing for the arrival of her guests.
Two of the younger destroyers were the first to come into view. Oki didn't miss how their gaze darted straight to her and lingered.
They peeled away and continued forward, passing her to take up stations just outside the Bay. Next in line was the eternally cheerful Atago, one of the few shipgirls who'd bothered trying to hold a conversation with the 'enemy defector.'
Atago tossed her a wink as the cruiser passed. What?
Some meters behind Yamato and Nagato, Takao and the remaining destroyer of the group chose smaller rock 'islands' on opposite sides of the Bay and took a seat.
Nagato picked up speed and arrived at her island first. "Are you aware that there is a Supply Depot Princess attacking Sasebo, that looks and sounds exactly like you?"
…Okay, that was a question she never would have anticipated. "What?" The possible implications occurred to her a moment later. "You don't think I have something to do with it, do you?"
The battleship surveyed her in silence for a beat. "What I suspect… is that the Abyssals may well be hoping to discredit you, somehow. Turn everyone against you." She frowned. "As to how they could produce an exact duplicate of you, however… I did not believe that was possible."
The best way to overcome a problem is to confront it head-on.
"Tune your radio to frequency 120.70," instructed Nagato. "Sendai and Naka are on-site, participating in the battle, and are broadcasting it for us. We cannot have a video feed, but perhaps we can still hear what your doppelganger is up to."
She'd been monitoring the battle, as she suspected Yamato was – the younger battleship had not spoken a word since the moment they'd hopped off the Yokosuka docks – but had left the task for her crew to handle. Holding a conversation was difficult with a distant battle occupying part of her mind, the roar of cannonfire and rants of a besieged Abyssal Installation threatening to drown out her thoughts.
Oki raised two fingers to tap against her earlobe, activating her comm and switching frequencies.
A familiar voice emerged from the static. "—bzshWILL SINK YOU MISERABLE… WORMS, THEN SALVAGE YOUR SCRAP AND FORGE AMMUNITION TO… SINK EVEN MORE OF YOU! I—" The sound of an explosion, presumably near the Supply Depot Princess' head, as the Installation's tirade had been cut short with a lapse into pained gurgles and snarls.
"We've almost got her!" an unknown shipgirl yelled. "Everyone, KEEP FIRING!"
Nagato carefully gauged Oki's reactions to the battle. It tore at her, to see the poor girl's attempts to hide a wince every time a burst caused her mirror image to yelp in pain… using her voice.
Damned Abyssals. The monsters were always finding new and thoroughly unexpected ways to ruin everyone's lives.
"Do you sense any sort of connection with her, no matter how faint?" she rushed to ask. The battle was bound to end any moment now, and with it any chance to discover what the Abyssals may have done to create their duplicate Installation.
Oki blinked, then concentrated. "No. I—"
Her reply was cut short, the radio crackling back to life in a cascade of explosions and a few scattered, weary cheers.
And the Supply Depot Princess screamed.
What caught the two battleship shipgirls off-guard was Oki almost immediately adding a scream of her own. Large, jagged cracks opened all over the Installation's body and base with the positively disquieting sound of tearing metal, bleeding golden light everywhere.
Nagato hurriedly shielded her eyes, deftly avoiding the flashes of bad memories that move brought to mind – of overwhelmingly bright light, of pain – but the glow was already too much for even her optics to handle, and she was forced to shut her eyes tightly and turn away, anyway.
There was a soft whump, presumably something imploding in upon itself… and… and… silence.
She heard Yamato gasp in surprise. Taking that as a cue, Nagato opened her own eyes in time to see an unconscious, dark-haired shipgirl lying curled up as best as possible, given her rigging, in a fetal position among the steadily dissolving remains of Oki the Abyssal Installation's foundation.
A familiar-looking light cruiser shipgirl. Whose configuration, she recognized. What!? How…
She was at the neo-shipgirl's side at an instant, turning the girl onto her back. Nagato brushed the girl's hair away from her face.
It was, without a doubt, Oki-chan, wearing a pair of thin-rimmed bifocals, unlike the thick frames she'd worn as a Princess. The color had returned to her features, though she did still seem to be a bit much on the pale side for Nagato's tastes. "It's true." Nagato sat back, amazed. "She's… no longer Abyssal, that I can tell. I'm… not sure how, but she's… she's Ooyodo, now."
Yamato knelt near Ooyodo's opposite side, studying her intently. "Ooyodo…? How does one go from being an Abyssal Installation one moment, to being a shipgirl cruiser the next?" Suddenly, the younger battleship started as a thought occurred to her. "We did think that her description of her transformation sounded suspiciously like an Awakening," she said, turning to face Nagato. "Do you suppose…"
"Oki-chan became Ooyodo when that other Supply Depot Princess was destroyed." Nagato's gaze went distant as she formed her own conclusions. "If we assume that she was supposed to Awaken as Ooyodo from the start, then… one could infer that the other Supply Depot Princess was Ooyodo herself, and Oki-chan Awakened as an Abyssal because her former self was Abyssal."
Yamato remained passive for a few moments, obviously considering the ramifications. If her guess was true, Oki-chan was not an isolated case – any normal Human could Awaken as an Abyssal under the right conditions. A frightening thought.
"Should she not have regained consciousness by now? She also seems to be growing more pale as we speak."
That grabbed Nagato's attention, and she turned to give Ooyodo a closer examination. Her fellow battleship was correct; those who Awakened rarely spent much time unconscious afterward. Yamato herself could attest to that, having witnessed Iowa's Awakening.
Yamato was also acquainted with one of the exceptions to the rule – her younger sister, Shinano, who just so happened to be an old friend of Iowa's. But Ooyodo, who had served a term as the flagship of the Combined Fleet, hadn't been launched in an incomplete state as Shinano and that carrier Bismarck's current Admiral had summoned, Graf Zepplin, had.
The cruiser wasn't meant to be turning increasingly pale, either. Ooyodo wasn't Abyssal-level pale – not any more – but…
Large, dark blotches were taking shape all over Ooyodo's skin.
Yamato withdrew a step. "What is–"
She wasn't able to finish that question, as Ooyodo's ship-wide sirens began blaring a loud red alert.
"Yamato. Call Akashi, tell her we need her here now," instructed Nagato. "Then, have our escorts patrol the mouth of the Bay. I don't want the Abyssals taking advantage of this situation."
Trusting her subordinate to follow the orders she'd given – and for all that Yamato was officially her subordinate, and a less-experienced shipgirl, it always felt odd, treating a battleship so obviously built for high command as a junior officer – Nagato focused upon broadcasting a call across the frequencies the JMSDF presently used, as well as those the Imperial Navy had used, hoping to spur a response from Ooyodo's crew. Someone would have to be conscious to sound an alert, even if Ooyodo herself was not.
While she could only watch in frustration, willing someone among the cruiser's crew to reply, the blotches slowly gained intensity and ground.
There. A strained reply, from a faerie officer that sounded quite out-of-breath. Almost as if she'd had to struggle to reach the radio. "De… desu! Desu, desu… desu! Desu. …Desu!"
Yamato returned to her side. "Akashi will be on her way as soon as she can appropriate a helicopter," she reported, a stray breeze tugging a few of the inexplicable cherry blossom petals that were forever twined within the battleship's hair free.
Officially, the base tried to keep at least one of its two helicopters prepped and ready for Akashi's use, for those occasions when she had to head into the field to perform emergency repairs. But, in reality, the 'choppers' were checked out more often than library books.
I need to conduct an audit. Ooyodo needs attention urgently, and she may not be able to receive it because someone decided today was a good day to take a helicopter for a joyride?
Nagato shook her head to clear it. Allowing herself to become worked up or sidetracked wouldn't help Ooyodo at all. And why was she assuming Akashi would be delayed? She didn't know what Akashi's schedule for the day or the day's schedules for the helicopters were. That responsibility, she'd passed to Mutsu after her sister's summoning and joining her as the Admiral's second aide. Mutsu had then passed it to Yamato.
She peripherally caught Yamato giving her a questioning glance. Oh. Yamato wasn't fretting over Akashi's chances of finding a helicopter and someone to pilot it. That was a good sign, was it not?
"Everything she was storing or hoarding, as the Supply Depot Princess… Abyssal steel, who knows what… it's all still inside her," Nagato informed her. "She's packed well over capacity, and her crew is trapped where they stand. I'm waiting for them to let me know if there is any way we can help while we wait for Akashi."
Jintsuu glared at the screen as the words began to seemingly drift and blend together yet again.
Although she was Admiral Robinson's aide, the Admiral insisted upon keeping her workload extremely light. Her days were mostly spent transcribing what reports or notices she was allowed to read with her nonexistent security clearance into Word documents. The mess hall's menu for the entire month? An itemized list of things confiscated from the Fleet's shipgirls? Budget estimates for a new, planned renovation of the base's public areas? Bleah.
Not that a higher-security clearance would make her work any more interesting. Oh, no. Even a civilian like her could guess that… unless her past self's knowledge and experience was coming to the fore, again. It did that, sometimes.
Well, whatever. She filed the gripe away, as she was now well-used to doing, and turned back to her work.
Nearly half an hour later, Jintsuu saved a file copy to the base's main hard drive, then mechanically proceeded through the steps to print another copy of the document.
Her routine was promptly broken when a destroyer shipgirl barged into the office, only sparing her a brief glance.
Wait. Jintsuu's internal suspicions belied her outer calm. She couldn't tell any of the destroyers – and there were a lot of destroyers – from each other, offhand… as far as she knew, they all hated her guts simply because she was a reincarnated Imperial Japanese Navy ship.
…Whatever.
Yes, the truth of the matter was that she was a Japanese, World War Two shipgirl. A cruiser, among a base packed full of American destroyers and cruisers from the same time period.
Roma was… sort of in a similar predicament, except she was a battleship shipgirl. The base's cruiser and destroyer shipgirls were apparently giving her a wide berth, even if some of them weren't the least bit sure why.
It probably helped that she wasn't a distinctly German or Japanese ship, too, Jintsuu absently mused.
Of course, working herself up over what everyone else on base likely thought of her was exponentially easier to do if she never asked anyone what they actually thought of her… and Jintsuu was firmly committed to keeping her distance from nearly every other shipgirl on base.
"–says there's a makeshift barge on its way here. With a bunch of Abyssals on it. Flyin' white flags," the destroyer was saying all in a rush. "They're not detecting anyone else in the area, other than the sub towin' the barge above water all by herself."
She felt the blood drain from her face. The Abyssals were here!? This close to the base? Why? Didn't the base's sailors and shipgirls all work to keep the Abyssals far, far away?
By contrast, the Admiral was immediately on full alert. "None of them are hidden, especially the submarine, correct?"
The destroyer shook her head, hastily adding a "No, sir."
"Regardless," the Admiral quickly concluded, something of a sigh escaping her. She caught herself and cleared her throat to cover. "I suppose… we've got a bit of a problem."
To her credit, it didn't take long for Jintsuu to notice that the Admiral was now staring intently at her. Even the unknown destroyer shipgirl was getting in on the act, her head slowly turning to study Jintsuu.
"W-what?" Jintsuu managed to ask. Already, she was dreading whatever the Admiral was about to spring on her. No good could come of this situation, she was sure.
The Admiral closed her eyes and exhaled. "Jun," she said simply.
Jintsuu blinked. So, too, did the destroyer. What?
"The 'protocol' for situations like this is to have our strongest ships hovering around as a show of force. Proof that our forces overpower theirs, so to speak.
But we haven't been able to summon anything higher than cruisers, and that we have a battleship is down to sheer luck."
She rose from her desk and, somewhat hastily, stood before Jintsuu. "Which is why… I was hoping you'd make an appearance as my official aide with those Abyssals. If everything goes well, you won't need to actually do anything. Just stand behind me and look menacing. Things like that."
When both of the shipgirls present in her office turned dubious stares on her, Admiral Robinson wondered whether or not she had time to try a different approach…
Jintsuu tried desperately to keep herself from fidgeting in more than one way as she squashed the urge to hide even further behind the Admiral.
C'mon, focus! she mentally insisted, and proceeded to shove everything that wasn't a concern here and now behind a figurative blast shield. It was all still there, perfectly accessible, but… out of sight, and mind.
Well. She hoped, anyway.
She decided it would be better to root herself in place – at least until the enemy arrived.
"What's their ETA?" the Admiral inquired, without looking back in her direction.
Jintsuu spent a moment consulting her radar. There. About… ten? twelve? minutes out, was the blip that represented Roma.
Roma was loosely maintaining formation behind a ragged group of Abyssals. A group of three huddled together, closely enough that her radar displays were having difficulty deciding where to place the ship labels.
"About ten to twelve minutes," she absently declared. Her attention was focused more upon her instruments than the Admiral. And… there. The Abyssal blips resolved, if even only temporarily, into something readable.
Two cruisers… and a carrier? Being towed by a submarine, by the looks of it.
Not much of 'a bunch of Abyssals,' really. Four. Still very dangerous. Still, very much a pain. But… four? Yes, the cruisers, carrier and submarine each could give them trouble, more so when wounded; the Abyssal mindset was far more deadly in that case. Tactics and experience were most often sidelined in favor of sheer, wild animalistic behavior.
Yeah, she was NOT planning on going near a battlefield anytime soon. Or… ever.
Three of the base's cruiser shipgirls were maintaining a loose circle – a perimeter, she corrected herself – around the Abyssals. Hmm. Was that standard operating procedure, or…?
"Roma? Status report."
Jintsuu only half-listened to the battleship's report, focusing instead on the horizon. Yes, there was a chance that Roma's group would see an assault from behind, or even from the 'wounded' Abyssals themselves… but odds were, the real challenge would begin once the group arrived.
Whatever that challenge was, at any rate.
She was most decidedly not paying attention to her chronometer or watch by the time Roma and the Abyssals came into view, and had asked her crew to keep silent unless absolutely necessary.
The carrier – a Wo-class – stood and immediately hopped off the small, makeshift barge, the moment she spotted the Admiral. A good portion of her face, including one of her eyes, was missing, and the damage came uncomfortably close to her mouth and nose. Her left arm hung limp at her side, though she did not cradle it. "Wo is the highest-ranking officer here. Wo will speak for us."
The Admiral nodded. "I understand."
Wo tried a weak smile, then just as quickly retracted it with a painful wince. "Wo and these other ships… did not want to fight. At all. Our superiors… did not like our refusal to fight. They… they punished us. Wo is… heavily crippled and cannot carry any planes. And Wo does not know how damaged the others are."
Something about the carrier's voice caught Jintsuu's heart and refused to let go. She stepped around the Admiral, until she and the Abyssal carrier stood across from each other. The voice… was different, yet the same. The carrier's face, what was left of it underneath the scarce remnants of her once-living cap… that was familiar, too…
"Mom!?"
Special thanks: J. St. C. Patrick, Kevin Hammel
So, in addition to the circumstances at home which have been steadily reducing my time to work on the story since 2017, I actually ended up shelving the (mostly-complete) story for a while… and then it was quickly approaching the end of the year, and I was rushing to pull out the story and finish it. ^_^; Sorry!