Hello again! Back with another chapter!
Also, if you haven't by now, you should check out Azur Lane: Alternate by AntoRaid98. It's the main inspiration for this fic, so go check it out!
Although I guess if you're here then you've probably already read his story, but oh well.
Anyways, enjoy!
All eyes were locked on the man. The shipgirls sized him up, waiting to see what he would do. Dozens of cannons were pointed at him from the more cautious and aggressive shipgirls, ready to blow him to smithereens if he turned out to be a threat.
It took a bit for Brest to snap out of her trance, but she finally managed to aim her 330mm guns at him too. She stared long and hard at him, taking in every detail. From his blank expression and appearance to the strange architecture, Brest made sure to commit him to memory.
He stood tall and imposing, towering above the majority of the shipgirls. His well-built physique was somewhat obscured by the jacket and equipment he wore. The riggings he controlled were equally foreboding, constantly producing a low, humming sound, reminiscent of the geometric shapes Brest first noticed in the hallway. Her breathing quickened as she prepared for the potential attack or deception he might unleash, and the devastation it could bring.
Yet, he continued to stand there. Not choosing to attack or run or even move at all. He turned his gaze upwards, towards Richelieu. And that's when a familiar voice spoke through the radio.
"Stand down, all of you. We mean no harm," Brest jolted, as did Richelieu, Clemenceau, and Jean Bart. It was the same voice on the phone earlier.
"Look behind you," the voice said. And when the shipgirls did, they saw someone floating down onto Richelieu's bridge. He was another man, with the same style of clothing. He wore more of an officer's uniform with a peaked cap and rounded glasses. Murmurs and whispers broke out amongst them.
Richelieu whirled around, "Who are you? What do you people want?" she demanded.
The man landed gracefully, his boots barely making a sound as they touched the deck. No equipment was visible to anyone that would allow him to fly like that. He adjusted his glasses, the lenses catching the sun's glow, and regarded Richelieu with a calm, measured gaze.
"Oh, I'm sure you already know the answer to that…" he stepped forward, and a beam of light emitted from his wrist. Brest's eyes focused on the image, and they went wide when she saw a very familiar logo.
A lowercase gamma symbol, glowing sky-blue. A familiar name. GammaCorp. Others around her recognized the logo too. Any shipgirl who managed to catch a glimpse of the facilities saw it while exploring. Quiet gasps of shock swept through the crowd: some shipgirls flinched as though struck, and others took a step back as though the logo were a snake poised to strike.
Richelieu's eyes widened in recognition, and she responded with a slight tremble in her voice, "Y-you, you're the ones behind the facilities, aren't you,"
The man responded, "Once, yes. But we have since lost contact with them,"
Clemenceau stepped in, "And you're here to reclaim them, aren't you,"
"You're partly correct," the man said with a smile, "…but it's not our only, nor our most important mission here,"
Jean Bart's eyes narrowed, "And what would that be?"
…He stayed silent, and then,
"I can't tell you," he said, and frustration swept over the shipgirls. Brest furrowed her brow, it was like dealing with the Sirens all over again.
"At least, not while we haven't any negotiation in order," he finished, and the Richelieu sisters locked their eyes on him, awaiting with impatience.
"A negotiation, hmm? And what would we gain if we agreed?" Clemenceau interrogated.
"Information, an eye into our machinations and what we've been up to. Maybe even our resources. You'll be the sighted amongst a kingdom of the blind. In exchange, you would offer your token support towards an operation," he finished and let Richelieu and her sisters process his terms.
Richelieu looked back at her comrades down behind her. Fear, suspicion, and curiosity all melded together to create a sea of uncertain faces among her trusted followers. She looked to Clemenceau, whose face was deep in contemplation hidden by a veneer of wariness. She looked to Jean Bart, her expression frozen in doubt, as she turned back to her with her eyes full of trust.
She looked back at the man, who continued standing there. Suddenly, he took a step forward, "Before you make a decision, I have to inform you of a demand we have, one which we will not leave here without settling,"
Richelieu's shoulders tensed, and she said nothing as he began pacing again.
"Whether you decide to work with us or leave us be, we demand that you do not speak about any of this to the other factions or Azur Lane. Be it of our existence, what you have seen today, or our conversation, you will not share any of this and instead act as though you never saw us," he finished with a loud and commanding voice.
Richelieu was taken aback, "W-what? Why would we… ever need to hide information from our allies…?"
"It's for their safety," he very bluntly stated, "As little people should know of this as possible, otherwise they'll draw too much unwanted attention to ourselves,"
"B-but-"
"Some things," the man interrupted, "-are better left unknown."
…
"I can't negotiate on this, Cardinal," he finished.
Richelieu went silent, and she decided to concede on the matter. She stewed over the other points further, weighing the benefits and the drawbacks of each decision. She could take their word for it, and gain access to this new faction's machinations, knowledge of their tactics and technology, and foresight into their actions. Or she could turn her back on them, leaving these opportunities behind and potentially sparing the new Orthodoxy from the consequences of involving themselves while on an uneven playing field.
Richelieu's mind wandered to the past. She knew all too well the vulnerability of nations. A country split in half, a legion of sisters at war with each other, all under a larger game being played. How could she, in good conscience, reject the chance to right the wrongs of the past, to seize the opportunity instead of letting history trample over them again? If GammaCorp's promises were held, then Richelieu wouldn't ever have to worry about fighting their comrades ever again.
But… then what? Would she still be the same Cardinal that inspired hope? Or would she grow mad with power, like Algérie with the black wisdom cube, or Marco Polo with whatever she was spouting at the World Expo? And what if GammaCorp didn't hold to their promises? What would happen to the newly reunified Orthodoxy, when faced with such a titan?
Her choice in this moment would decide the fate of everyone around her. It would be the difference between taking their hand and risking destroying themselves, or walking away, and risking being destroyed.
Richelieu closed her eyes, as she decided amongst herself. She took a deep breath. She steeled her thoughts to prepare for his response. She hardened her mind for the consequences. She emboldened her heart to fight for the Iris, the Orthodoxy, and all her comrades.
A million eyes watched her. A million ears listened. She opened her eyes and made her decision.
She lowered her flag and faced the fleet behind her. Richelieu made her choice.
"We accept."
The man gave a slight smile and bowed to the Cardinal as a flurry of discussion broke out among the shipgirls. Clemenceau slightly unclenched her jaw, though her eyes retained their calculating gaze. Jean Bart breathed a sigh of relief, despite the sliver of doubt flashing across her face. Gascogne furrowed her brow but lowered her weapon nonetheless.
"Thank you, Cardinal. You will not regret this decision," he said as he stood back upright with a newly confident posture.
He walked to the ledge, and yelled to the other man, still standing there with his riggings.
"Conquest! Rally the others, we've struck a deal!"
Conquest… So that is his name…
Brest's reaction to Richelieu's decision was acceptance. Though her lingering fear of this new faction despaired that the decision had jumped too far into the unknown, her trust in the Cardinal and curiosity calmed her down and excited her as a new opportunity sprang forth.
Other shipgirls had differing opinions. Most mirrored Brest's take, with their trust in their leader triumphing over their personal opinions. Some like Foch and Painlevé were relieved at the massive boon they would gain. Others like Algérie and Strasbourg seemed quite interested in the new intel they would be provided. Some like Bayard and Saint Louis quietly resolved on a few contingencies in case the deal went bad. Clemenceau was, without a doubt, calculating a way to subvert the deal to ensure the Iris Orthodoxy remained on top.
'Conquest', as he was apparently called, went to work. He jumped off the bow and onto the water's surface. The way he hovered above the water, and his riggings propelled him forward, and the ease at which he performed these maneuvers removed all doubt about his nature.
Brest was looking forward to asking him about it when he returned. Conquest set off to the other ships surrounding them. Soon, flashes emitted from them, and the hulls disappeared to reveal human figures–other male kansen.
"Looks like we're about to get some company," Strasbourg remarked, her eyes fixated on the streaks of blue light of each figure skating across the water.
"D-do you think they'll be friendly?" Marseillaise whispered to Brest, trying to hide her fidgeting.
"Well… it's hard to say. I do hope they're somewhat agreeable, though," she said, looking back at Marseillaise and then to Richelieu, who was now having a one-on-one conversation with Statesman.
Then, she heard synthetic pulsing growing closer and looked back toward the sea to find one of the shipboys heading toward them. He was surfing over the water while standing atop some piece of technology that looked as though it would have come out of the comic books that Reno brings for the destroyers.
He vaulted over the deck railings and dove into a roll across the deck, close to where Alsace was standing, retracting the board into his wrist. Alsace let out a yelp as he almost crashed into her, and she dodged out of his way as he stood upright.
He had a similar look to Conquest: a jacket and pants with silver and blue tones, though this shipboy's jacket was closer to a more futuristic, naval officer's coat. He had a helmet on with a visor, like a motorcyclist's helmet, which he retracted. His dark brown hair was combed up and to the side, and his eyes were similarly blue, though without the rings that defined Conquest's.
He looked up to Statesman, and saluted with a smile, "Reporting in, sir!"
"Ahh, Watchdog. Glad you could join us," Statesman returned.
'Watchdog' nodded, "Well, I finished all the work on my side. The others are gonna join us soon,"
"Great performance, as always, Watchdog. I'll need to discuss some things with the Cardinal, so go ahead and introduce yourself," Statesman said, as he and Richelieu entered the bridge, the door shutting behind them.
Watchdog turned back to the crowd of shipgirls, all staring at him curiously.
All except one. L'Indomptable stomped forward, lance in hand, and pointed at him.
Watchdog knelt slightly, "Well hello there. What's your na-"
"Quiet, pleb! This proud knight will not be cowed so easily by you barbarians!"
The sudden hostility surprised Watchdog and the other shipgirls around her. Le Malin, Le Triomphant, and Le Terrible tried to defuse the situation and sputter their hasty apologies to the male kansen as L'Indomptable glared at him.
"The Cardinal may have put her trust in you, but if you dare trick us again, I'll teach you what painful things happen to those who cross the line!"
"Uh- I'm sorry you feel that way, but we had to do this for everyone's sake," Watchdog said.
L'Indomptable huffed before Brennus stepped in, "That's enough. Let's not burn bridges too soon, they haven't shown any hostile actions toward us yet."
Then she turned to Watchdog, "Though you lot haven't done very much to earn our trust either."
He sighed, "I'm aware of that. Honestly, we probably could've saved so much trouble if we had bothered talking to you first."
"So why didn't you?" Alsace asked with genuine curiosity in her voice.
"Well, we didn't want to deal with the possible culture shock of having both of us meet, so we tried to keep things as quiet as possible."
"Then what prompted you to try and lure us out with the premise of a Siren attack?" Brennus asked.
Watchdog shrugged, "That's where my knowledge ends, unfortunately. I think Statesman is sharing those details with your leader, so you can ask her about it later."
"Hmph! Sounds like more excuses to me. You're just deflecting your responsibilities to try and cover your shady methods, pleb!"
The other shipgirls backed away, trying to ignore L'Indomptable's aggressiveness. Alsace, still standing right next to Watchdog, said, "Well, one supposes there was no harm intended, right? Perhaps it can be overlooked, then."
"Besides, if it means you'll become our new allies, then maybe we can consider this a fresh start."
"Wha-? We can't just ignore what they've done! They tried to trick us, remember!?"
Brennus was deep in thought, then nodded. "Very well then, there may yet be a chance of reconciliation between us."
"Hello!? Are you even listening to me!?"
Surcouf joined in, "Cool! I wasn't really feeling like fighting you guys anyway!~"
"Sound logic. Maybe it's best to put this behind us." Flandre added.
"It is the will of the Iris to offer redemption, isn't it?" Joffre chimed in.
Slowly, shipgirl after shipgirl was convinced, much to L'Indomptable's dismay. Watchdog's shoulders relaxed, seeing the tension lift from the air. Then, Fleuret stepped forward.
"Sooo… How do you guys even exist?" She gestured, making everyone aware of the elephant in the room, "Is it anything like with wisdom cubes?"
Watchdog sighed. Such a question was bound to come sooner or later, "Ahh, well, sort of. It's a bit more complicated than that—something along the lines of reverse-engineered Siren tech and a bit of our corporate magic. All classified stuff though, so I'm afraid I can't go any further than that."
"Huh… so you're part Siren?" Alsace asked.
"Well, yes technically. But I still prefer to think of ourselves as Kansen, just not in the way you would expect."
"No kidding about that part…" Le Malin muttered, remembering how Conquest's hull sailed over them.
Le Terrible put her hand to her chin, and then decided to ask, "So, what's with your hulls?"
But he never responded. Instead, Watchdog turned to the water and asked, "Eh? You're finished?"
…
"The deck's made outta wood, though. So be careful when you land."
…
"Yeah yeah, the situation's all sorted down here. Oh and uhh… Are you introducing yourself or am I?"
Alsace and those around listened to him, clearly only hearing one side of a conversation. She looked to where Watchdog looked, focusing her eyes on the ocean's surface. Lo and behold, she saw a trail of blue light heading towards Richelieu's hull.
"That's Visionary," Watchdog clarified, before turning to the rest of the shipgirls, "If you guys could make space for him, that'd be great!"
Suddenly, a shockwave came from Visionary's direction. The blue light soared through the sky and arced over to where Guichen was standing, followed by a figure slamming into the deck with a flash of light causing her to shield her eyes.
The landing was rough, and the male kansen bounced slightly from the impact. When the shipgirls uncovered their eyes, they saw a gruff-looking man with ginger hair and a beard. All he wore for a top was a rugged, dark sleeveless vest, paired with sturdy combat pants and heavy-duty boots.
His chrome-coloured arms glowed slightly as they cooled down. He went to Watchdog, who greeted him.
"Just in time! Where are the others?"
"Still tryin' to figure out how to introduce themselves. Fuckers can't make their minds up on whether to keep our 'in-house secrets' or not." He spoke with a gruff, deeper voice.
Watchdog sighed, "What's the point? The cat's already out of the bag, why keep holding our cards so close to our chest?"
"Oh, and that reminds me… ahem, Visionary…" Watchdog said as he gestured between the shipgirls and him.
Guichen looked at the new shipboy and smiled politely while waving.
Visionary looked back, "What?"
"Oh come on! Do I have to do everybody's introductions for them!?"
"Look, I ain't here for this fuckin' icebreaker shit. I'm here to talk to the boss 'bout something," Visionary replied to Watchdog with a grunt.
Lyon spoke up, "Well, he's talking with Richelieu inside, so you're stuck with us for the moment."
"Agh."
"See? Now go ahead!"
Visionary clicked his tongue, before relenting, "Fine. Visionary here. Pleased to meetcha and whatnot,"
Guichen rolled her eyes and replied, "Bonjour~ We're all excited to have you around. Hopefully, your advanced hulls can make the difference in our fight!"
He looked to Watchdog then scoffed, "You told them that, didn't you."
Before he could defend himself, Le Terrible spoke, making her way through the crowd, "Well, not exactly. He just told us a little about how shipboys like you are made."
She continued, "But I'm more curious to know about your hulls. Care to divulge for us?"
"Not sure if I'm s'posed to spill this much… But I suppose you all saw Conquest's hull already, yeah?"
Numerous shipgirls nodded. Visionary shrugged his shoulders.
"Fuck it, why not?" Le Terrible, Guichen, Lyon, and many of the shipgirls leaned in, "We're ships. Not the kind for water, though. More like an in-the-air-and-space kinda ship."
"So, a spaceship?" Guichen asked.
"Well, technically, we're a Generation Theta type Atmospheric and Deep Space Hull-"
"Yeah, so a fuckin' spaceship!"
The shipgirls gawked at the information, their imaginations running wild as they pictured themselves floating through the sky and grasping the stars themselves. Brest started thinking of the view from above, the inspiration for a new work taking shape in her mind.
"Also we ain't Generation Theta, you got it mixed up. It's the other way around."
"Eh? I thought it started from Gamma and went down from there, right?"
"No, ya fuckin' dolt! I'm the only one who remembers that it starts from the Omega, and then goes up!"
"What- so we're Generation Tau? That doesn't make a whole lotta sense…?"
"That's how it's fuckin' s'posed to be! It's weird to have a 'Gamma Generation', for fucks sake!-"
Some shipgirls grew a bit worried at the banter, not wanting their new allies to tear each other apart.
Brest thought about stepping in, but someone beat her to it before she could deliberate further.
Jeanne D'Arc. She stepped forward, making her gait as confident as possible. Suddenly, she felt a blast of wind from behind her and turned her head.
Her eyes widened as she saw a helicopter descending onto the deck. Its rotors slowed as the sun reflected off its white and orange surface.
Someone was hanging off the side, who then jumped down. When he landed, the chopper disappeared in a flash of light. He was wearing a tailored suit, fitted with blue and white. His light-brown hair was cropped up with a shine, and he had a pair of sunglasses on. A cap covered his head, similar to Statesman's.
He looked around, sighing, and then brought his hand into his face as he shook his head. He walked up to Watchdog and Visionary, who had stopped talking.
"Do you remember… what Statesman said about situations like these? Because I can remember quite well." He said.
"'All information is to be kept under wraps' yadda yadda and then some," Visionary replied.
"Rrrright… So I feel a little obligated to ask; have we suddenly forgotten what that implies?"
"I don't think it applies anymore, Whitefeather. Statesman said that back when we were still confident we could keep things under wraps." Watchdog replied.
Whitefeather scoffed, "Does that mean we should abandon its core principle? For God's sake, you two are babbling on about GammaCorp's secrets right in earshot!"
Then, Jeanne D'Arc spoke, "Excuse me, but is this really how allies should treat each other?"
Whitefeather turned his head, "Depends. What's it to you?"
"Regardless of what we personally think, our leaders have agreed to it, so we should be trying to make this arrangement work," Jeanne replied.
"She does have a point," Watchdog then turned to Jeanne, "You're by Richelieu's side all the time, right?"
"Uhh… yes?"
"See! You know that feeling, Whitefeather, so why not listen to her advice?"
Whitefeather was silent for a moment, and then said, "Fine. But remember, we're allies, not friends."
Jeanne D'Arc replied, "Even allies need to share secrets."
Whitefeather didn't respond, instead turning to Watchdog.
"So… things are going well up top, I presume?" Watchdog asked.
"If by that you mean 'losing their collective minds and shitting their pants at the situation', then yes… Things are going spectacularly,"
Watchdog rolled his eyes, Whitefeather sighed, and Jeanne D'Arc tilted her head.
"GammaCorp, they're a little nervous about the special nature of the operation," Watchdog clarified.
"And what would that be?" Jeanne asked.
"We'll know through debriefing later," Whitefeather said bluntly.
"Can you not tell us now?"
Visionary cut in, "'Fraid not. Whatever we're getting into is just as secret to us as it is to you."
Watchdog turned to Whitefeather, "Well, at least this beats being stuck in an office cubicle."
Saint Louis, standing behind Jeanne D'Arc, stepped forward. "This lack of information from 'GammaCorp' seems unwise…"
Whitefeather shrugged, "GammaCorp's orders."
"But there must be something you can do, don't you have authority over them?" Saint Louis asked.
All three male kansen stopped and displayed looks of confusion. Then, a smirk grew on Whitefeather's face.
"Oh… They didn't tell you, did they?"
"What do you mean?"
"What do you think GammaCorp means to us?"
Saint Louis furrowed her brow, "Are they not your equipment suppliers?"
"No, much more than that," Whitefeather chuckled.
Jeanne D'Arc raised her eyebrow, "They're not part of your navy…?"
"They are our navy. GammaCorp owns enough of it to be considered such."
—
The shipgirls were left to process the revelation. Brest noted the three reactions: some were disturbed by the power balance, and others pointed out the lack of principles or values in such a system. And some were thoroughly intrigued.
One of them was Algérie, who was watching from afar. She quietly noted the conversation as it ebbed and flowed, with each new kansen adding to their thoughts.
Though it was an interesting sight, she preferred to observe. After all, Vichya's best strategist had a reputation to keep.
Suddenly, she heard a buzzing noise above her. Craning her neck, Algérie could see a drone in the air. It was painted white and light grey and buzzed as it hovered over her, not doing anything in particular.
*BANG*
The drone burst into flames, and a moment later it exploded into bits, startling many of the shipgirls nearby.
Algérie looked toward for source of the destruction-
*THUD*
-only to get startled by someone landing next to her. It was another male kansen. He had more tanned skin than the others and had a buzz-cut fade with a brown bomber jacket. He had a trimmed beard and a slight moustache and twirled a sniper rifle in his hands as he strutted forward.
"My bad hermana. Didn't see you there," he said, his accent lightly peaking through.
Algérie got back on her feet cautiously, her eyes narrowing, "Was that necessary?"
"What, the explosive entrance? I can't help it. You guys are fucking standing around here, it's awkward, man."
"Westward. Why am I not surprised?" Whitefeather said.
"Ooh, somebody looks happy to see me," 'Westward' replied, smirking at the scowl growing on Whitefeather's face.
Algérie dusted herself off, "You know, you could've introduced yourself without destroying your equipment."
"And miss out on a good piece of characterization for me? Fuck that," Westward continued, "Besides, GammaCorp will pay for whatever shit I break, so long as I fill it in as 'equipment loss'."
Algérie's brow furrowed and a small frown grew on her face, "You're allowed to do that…?"
"That's right. Consider it a perk of the job, hermana," A glint appeared in his eyes, and he turned his head upward slightly.
"Well, I hope for your sake that you take responsibility for any 'collateral damage' you might cause," she said.
"Heh, now you sound a lot like 'D6' over here," he pointed to Watchdog.
"Because it's important advice, Westward!" Watchdog admonished.
"Relax, I'll fuckin' pay for it myself if I have to," Westward replied.
Foch spoke up, "You'll pay yourself? Jeez, how much money do you guys have?"
"Ey now, don't you know it's rude to ask a man's salary-"
"Quite a lot. We're paid per commission according to our results, or we can claim a base pay, whichever is greater." Watchdog interrupted, leaving Westward to shrink back slightly.
"Yeah, what he said…"
Foch shifted slightly, "Seems like you have a pretty lax command structure…"
"That's the best fucking part! None of that 'chain of command' bullshit, just me, my gun and my cash prize against the world! " Westward exclaimed.
"But there still must be some form of oversight, right…?" Painlevé asked.
Whitefeather responded, "Barely. Even Statesman's authority is seldom practiced. GammaCorp just lets us do as we please, so long as the job gets done."
"Sounds…"
"...irresponsible." Foch and Algérie began and finished, respectively.
"Relax, hermanas. 'Company only hires the best of the best, so we fucking know what we're doing. Besides, this is a special operation, no?"
Watchdog sighed, "If it's any consolation, he's right on that point. Plus, you have Richelieu to watch over us too."
The mood in the air became more relaxed. The conversations began splitting off into their groups. Standing farther back, Strasbourg asked, "Is that all of you, then?"
Visionary responded, "Should be one more, then you'll see the whole gang together."
She furrowed her brow, "Then we'll be off fighting together, no?"
"That's sure what we agreed to," he replied.
Strasbourg sighed, "And then we'll clean things up, and you will be headed home."
"Can't wait," Westward quipped.
"A shame you couldn't stay longer. I'm sure your help would be beneficial against the Sirens…"
Whitefeather said, "We'll always tangle with them, it's what we were made to do."
"By yourselves? My, your technology is most impressive…"
"... And?"
"Perhaps, if you're not going to be sticking around… Then maybe you could at least leave us with a gift…?" Strasbourg said, the euphemism not escaping anyone.
"... You think we'd agree to that?"
"I don't see why not," she replied, crossing her arms.
"Well, I can think of plenty of reasons otherwise… But I've gone on enough, I'll let you figure those out yourself."
Strasbourg looked to Visionary, "What? Ya' thought I'd say somethin' different? He might be an asshole-"
Whitefeather clicked his tongue.
"-but that's one point we all agree with."
She looked to Watchdog, who darted his eyes around while fidgeting. Then Strasbourg looked to Westward who…
"What's with that smirk?"
"Nothing…"
…
"Wha-"
"Ahh, Codetalker, wait-!"
Strasbourg turned to see a flash of blue speeding towards her. She raised her arms to shield herself and let out a yelp, bracing for the impact.
But it never came. Instead, it grazed, but ultimately missed her, and when she looked back, she saw another shipboy.
He wore a jacket with a metallic blue and silver trim, dark blue trousers, and leather shoes. His most striking feature was his right eye, completely replaced by a blue, mechanical cybernetic, taking the form of an upside-down triangle.
He barely landed on his feet, wobbling as he did so with a dazed expression. When he recovered, he turned to Westward.
"You told me there was space on the deck!"
"There was until this chica decided to wander around," Westward pointed to Strasbourg, frozen in place, face going red minute by minute.
She whirled around, "W-w-what's wrong with you!?"
Codetalker dusted himself off, "Sorry about that, at least I didn't slam into you."
Dunkerque took over for her sister as she stammered about, "Indeed. Thank goodness for your reflexes."
"Heh. You can thank these advanced predictive algorithms for that!" He put one hand on his hip and tapped his knuckles on his cybernetic eye.
"Algorithms?" Dunkerque asked.
"That and even more! Autopilot systems, aiming algorithms, repair software, and the like!"
"I-I see…"
Strasbourg, who had recovered from her embarrassment, remarked, "Really? That sounds like some useful equipment. Are you not allowed to share?"
"Eh? What do you mean 'share'?"
Watchdog said, "It's a… bit of a discussion we had beforehand."
"About sharing technology?"
"Don't look at me," said Visionary, "I'm just following protocol."
"I mean, it only applies to the sensitive stuff, right? Besides, we sell off our tech all the time, so it's not like we have any reason to hide that stuff."
"Because it's the stuff that we're meant to sell. Not the classified military weaponry like they're suggesting," Whitefeather replied.
"This is a military situation. And it'd certainly make up for the scare you gave us earlier," Dunkerque said.
Codetalker hummed, then said, "Well, I'll have to ask Statesman about it later."
"A request he'll no doubt refuse."
After Whitefeather's remark, Codetalker shifted the conversation: "So, are you guys excited about the upcoming battle, or what?"
Strasbourg's expression displayed a hint of pity, "What, pray tell, is the goal of such small talk?"
"Hey! I'm just trying to lighten the mood, is all!"
Dunkerque couldn't help but giggle, "Well, the thought is certainly appreciated. Most of us are waiting for more information before we can form a solid opinion."
"Really? Well, I guess that was to be expected…" Codetalker's expression turned pensive.
"Regardless, hopefully, there will be more transparency between our factions. Mistrust is… not the most productive way to conduct an alliance."
Dunkerque's face fell slightly, enough for her sister to notice and place a comforting hand on her back.
She took a deep breath, and said, "Well, as long as we're all still friendly enough…"
Despite her attempts, Brest could notice Codetalker's furrowed brow. He caught on quickly. Then, Watchdog came behind him.
"You know," Watchdog said to Dunkerque, "You don't have to hide that part of your history away. Codetalker's probably already read the file on Mers-el-Kébir, right?"
Dunkerque's face broke out into surprise for a second, and Codetalker whirled around to face Watchdog, "Uhh, dude! I don't think this is the time!"
"All I'm saying is that we have reasons to empathize with each other," Watchdog replied, throwing his hands up.
"Ugh, now the cat's out of the bag…" Codetalker turned back to Dunkerque, "So, yeah. I did a little bit of historical digging, and then I came across MNF Dunkerque and your actions at Mers-el-Kébir and… yeah."
Her head tilted. "O-oh…" was all she could reply to the volley of information thrown at her.
"And for the record, I was only curious because of the information briefing which I'm not telling you about for reasons already established and I just decided to read up on some stuff and then some butthensomeonehadtokeeppesteringmeabout'Oh you gotta put your all into it'andsoI'mlike'Okay then I'll just keep digging'andthen-"
"Alright, alright! I-I get it!" Dunkerque had to cut him off as his speech became rapid-fire.
She then said, in a more sombre voice, "I suppose you know how little glory was in my service life…"
Codetalker replied, "Well, you did what you had to, right? No one can blame you, especially not with ambition staring you down in the face like that."
Dunkerque perked up, and he continued, "Besides, you've got the strength and grace to keep pushing despite everything, right? Certainly a lot more than what I could do, heh."
The faintest of smiles found their way onto Dunkerque's face.
"I see, thank you…" Behind her, Strasbourg smiled and gave a thumbs-up that seemed to say, 'Good answer.'
Though the conversations were interesting to hear, it wasn't quite what Brest was focused on. She was looking around the deck for someone else. Someone that had been on her mind quite a lot recently…
And then he appeared. Conquest, the last of GammaCorp's male kansen, landed on the deck again. Brest gathered up the courage and walked over to him. Perhaps a conversation would clear the air between them.
As she got closer, Brest could see that he was simply standing around, not doing anything. Though his imperious gaze swept over the sea of shipgirls conversing, he never attempted to approach any of them.
Still, the curiosity within was killing the large cruiser. His eyes turned towards Brest as she approached. He had no pupils. Just rings of blue lights surrounded by darkness.
She took a deep breath, "... Greetings. Conquest, wasn't it?"
"Hello." His voice was low and rather robotic.
"Do you… remember me?"
"Yes, I do. What of it?"
She contemplated long and hard about what to say. Then she asked, "When we were in that hallway, why did you open the door for me?"
"Because you seemed lost. It is standard protocol to offer assistance to visitors whenever possible."
Brest's face fell at the blunt, artificial way he responded. She continued, "Is that so? It felt differently to me…"
"Was there something wrong in my conduct?"
She waved her hand, "No no, simply that… you didn't seem like you were acting on protocol. If anything, you seemed more… curious."
He tilted his head, "I don't quite understand what you mean."
"You don't recall? You briefly looked back at me. You looked wary of me," Brest explained.
"As I stated, I was following protocol."
She sighed, "Is that all this is to you? It seems as though your focus on protocols and directives is a bit… excessive."
"It's simply how I was built to process the world. I understand that such a viewpoint may differ from yours," Conquest replied.
"Indeed," Brest sighed, "Hopefully I can learn more about you."
Brest turned to the sea, letting her mind process everything. Then, she heard Conquest again:
"Strange…"
She turned, "Hmm? Pardon?"
"From the hallway," Conquest began, "Apologies if I startled you. It's just that…"
…
"You look familiar, and I'm not sure why."
Sorry for the wait, but these midterms got me fighting for my life.
Anyways, I have a little challenge for you all:
These shipboys were based on and take their name from a fleet of submarines from a particular video game.
Whoever can figure out which video game it is and posts it in the comments gets a cookie - 🍪