Chapter 4:
Traumas
For the second night in a row, Kestrel remained awake until morning. She had yet to complete a rest cycle as she'd seen the other shipwomen perform, and she was getting increasingly worried as the night went on. When sunlight peered in, she felt a sense of terror rise through her.
"Alright!" She heard Akagi declare beneath her with a stretch and a yawn. "Time for morning PT! You already up, Kestrel?"
"Yes, ma'am." Kestrel squeaked a little too quickly.
She sat up from her futon as Akagi drew the curtains back to reveal her bed. Kestrel was suddenly envious of the added privacy she lacked. Could she request some folding screens?
"Get your PT clothes on. We're heading out to the track." Akagi ordered.
Changing clothes was still a struggle, even with Akagi helping her, but she was soon adorned with simple gym shorts and a white t-shirt. From there, Akagi led her outside, where the other girls she had met were waiting.
"Off to the track, then," Kaga said dispassionately.
They went down to the large green field with a track running around it. Kestrel had seen it during her tour of the facilities, but it looked much larger up close. Despite her worries, that morning PT was a pleasant experience.
She followed the directions of trying to switch her perspective back and forth from ship to human. While subsumed by her ship protocols, it was simple to imagine herself calling for half speed for a jog or full speed for running. She did try to experiment. But each time she pushed herself to use human protocols, she stumbled and reverted back to ship perception. Do humans even have protocols?
This lasted for what felt like days but was under an hour in real-time. Kestrel did a little better each time she tried to think like a human. At first, she stumbled on the first step. Then, the second. Then, she was able to make it three steps. But that was as far as she got on the first day.
At least she'd concluded that her limbs were hers to control directly, not a defined procedure meant to be invoked by command and then executed by operators. She stumbled because of the responsiveness of her body; her reflexes were like lightning when compared to the command lag time she experienced as a ship. She really was like a baby learning to walk, let alone run.
"And welcome to the mess hall," Akagi said as they entered the cafeteria.
It was much more inviting than her own galley, which was all steel. This one was all wood and carpet. It still had a cafeteria serving area and doors to the kitchen behind it, though. The four of them got in line behind a troupe of tiny girls; a second glance revealed them to be destroyers. They bickered incessantly, but Kestrel tuned them out.
Soon, they were handed a tray of food, far too much of it for a mortal human. She, Akagi, and Kaga were given trays with mountains of rice and what looked like gravy—or maybe beef stew.
"Never had curry before?" Akagi asked.
So they called this curry, Kestrel thought. "No," Kestrel stammered as her eyes boggled at the mountains of food that passed for portions. "I mean, no, I haven't had curry before, but aren't these portions a bit… much? Where does it all go?"
"Don't worry, our stomachs can absolutely fit all of that. I promise." Akagi told her.
When they sat down, Akagi was proven correct. They inhaled that food, Kestrel, faster than the rest. Still unaccustomed to the sensation of hunger, she hadn't realized how hungry she really was. She needed a hunger gauge or something because she tore into that food like the raptor she was named after, rending its prey—far beyond unladylike and well into feral territory.
This food felt far more filling than the sweets she had eaten at the cafe. It also made her feel calmer and satiated, whereas the sweets made her jittery and unsatisfied.
"Have you had enough?" Kaga asked.
"I could eat more," Kestrel admitted.
And she did. They went back to waiting in line, at the end of which Akagi and Kaga got themselves a small dessert in the form of cake, while Kestrel got a second whole tray of rice and curry. She ate more slowly this time, focusing on measured, controlled bites. Now that she was allowing herself to enjoy the flavors she was putting in her mouth, her attention was split between the flavors and watching the other girls eat their dessert.
What she saw in their ship form was interesting. She saw supplies being loaded onto two aircraft carriers. The sweets translated directly into electrical equipment and supplies for repairing such. Various spools of cable and electronic components of every type.
Focusing inward, she felt herself being resupplied. The rice and curry translated into metal, munitions, and repair supplies, while sweets became electrical components. So, different foods provided different supplies to a ship? She hoped the meal plans in the cafeteria were designed around the repair schedules or supply levels for individual vessels.
She could somehow feel her inventory despite the lack of a logistics officer. Her human sensibilities may make her crave the foods she needs. As she understood it, people had food cravings hardwired into them to incentivize them to eat the right foods for them.
"And this is the classroom," Kaga said dispassionately.
The room was a classroom with a teacher's desk and tables. It was made entirely of wood, from ceiling to floor, and had a green chalkboard. The center of the room had a wood-fired furnace that looked like it had gone some time without use, which made sense, given that it was summer.
She looked at the walls to see there was a map, but it only showed the island and the surrounding archipelago. It detailed the towns and ports around as well. She was surprised by the state of the island. It was in the middle of a circular bay with a single entrance and exit, making it almost crescent-shaped. Their base was on that island, but the bay had three installations: a human military outpost, a typical everyday town, and an industrial shipyard.
"What do they teach here?" Kestrel asked.
"Military tactics, history, and science," Kaga explained. "Along with what we cheekily call 'humanities,' as in teaching us how to be human."
That sounded like the most critical thing to Kestrel in her current state. Her opinion might change as she took the class and hopefully no longer needed it.
They also visited the sports center that day. It was a grandiose name for a gym behind the track field, though it was well-equipped and popular.
"Once you get used to walking and swimming, you'll want to learn some sports and crafts to get even more used to your body," Kaga told her.
Kestrel watched one of the other ship girls perform some complicated maneuver on a gymnast horse and sincerely doubted Kaga's prediction.
The rest of her first week flew by. She fell into an odd routine of constantly being hungry but never tired. She never once felt the need for sleep, which was strange as she knew that after a certain amount of time without sleep, people would fall asleep irrespective of whether they wanted to. She had long since passed that limit of human endurance, yet she never shared this alarming information with anybody. She felt it was dangerous to share for her own safety.
She eventually found the answer to her problem on her own. Desperate, she overcame her respect for others' privacy and peered past Akagi's curtains to see what she was doing in ship form. She was refueling—with fossil fuels. For ship girls, sleeping in their human form was refilling their fuel tanks in their ship form. Kestrel did not have a fuel tank, at least not one to fuel her propulsion mechanism.
Though she had a nuclear power plant for her heart, it generated the steam all her systems ran on, including propulsion, electrical power, and even her catapults. She only needed her nuclear fuel changed out once per decade. If this evidence fits together the way Kestrel thought it did, she would have eight years before she needed her next nap.
As surprising as it was to discover her roommate was oil-powered, her subsequent realization was that her peers were likewise oil-powered, raising many questions. Questions she decided to keep to herself as a matter of self-preservation and peace of mind. If it was revealed she never slept or tired, the work expected of her would double. In the evenings, she rested in bed, just not sleeping. When she got some privacy screens, she would spend her evenings reading in secret, but until then, she just waited for the other girls to wake up so they could go on their morning jogs.
Speaking of which, she had reached the point where she could walk unaided. Jogging and running still required her to swap back and forth, though. Akagi and Kaga were always the first up and the first to leave, so Kestrel was now the first to rise and go. Each day, she followed them discreetly. Shadowing them like a younger sister, trying to avoid interrupting their days so she might learn how they live and how she should live.
From her observations, Akagi always went to the shooting range outside her daily duties. At the shooting range, she launched arrows with her bow, which transformed into positively ancient fighter planes.
"As carriers, our primary weapon is our air wing. Our specialized role leaves us little in the way of point defense. Still, we compensate for that weakness by surrounding ourselves with our strike group. As such, we are not expected to train on the water as much as with our fighters, bombers, and recon planes," Akagi began explaining without indicating that she had spotted Kestrel nor interrupting her rhythm of releasing arrows.
"They are the fleets' most vital weapons, so we must master them for everybody's sake," Kaga added helpfully.
Kestrel, blushing slightly for being caught, though not surprised, stepped around the tree that was not entirely hiding her. What Akagi said matched Kestrel's experience as well. Her angels were the reasons for her victories.
"I also do this as a form of meditation. I find it soothing to put all of my focus into this work. When I aim and fire, my other thoughts drain away." Akagi said wistfully. "Would you like to give it a go?"
Kestrel froze, back rigid, with a blank expression as if she was a deer or some other nocturnal animal entranced by a vehicle's headlights. She raised both hands defensively and backed away.
"Oh no!" She said in a more panicked voice than she intended. "I'm not confident in my new body yet. I'm not ready to do something that advanced.
She had another reason to feel afraid but kept that to herself. She knew her planes would not fly, and her angels were gone. She had sent them on their final mission and watched them vanish into the clouds, knowing they would never return.
Akagi smiled wanly at her. Kestrel found the woman's calm and composed demeanor contagious. However, she also gave off an unsettling aura, like she could see through Kestrel, read her mind, and tell exactly what she felt.
Kaga spent most days acting like Akagi's shadow or bodyguard. Most of the time, she never said a word unless it was to show off her brains, which were respectable, to be sure. It brought back memories of Andromeda. Officially, the Raleigh-class transport vessel, a tenth Kestrel's size, was part of Naval Intelligence. Unofficially, she was a floating listening outpost and electronic warfare vessel. The Captain pulled some strings to keep her primarily assigned to Kestrel's fleet.
She remembered her vague awareness of all the ships in her fleet. It was somewhat comforting, except for Andromeda. Andromeda's presence was the opposite, a black hole where a vessel should be. It was unsettling at times. Kestrel knew that with all of Andromeda's tech, she shouldn't have been able to detect her at all, but somehow, she could always detect where she was hiding. Kestrel was missing her own shadow now.
Shaking herself from yet another reverie, she refocused on Kaga, who today had done something strange in choosing to be social when the lul in the conversation stretched on for too long.
"Kestrel, why don't I walk you back so Akagi can practice peacefully." She said. "Today is one of those days where I think she needs some solitude."
Akagi looked down in what passed for both a blush and a thankful nod to her friend. Kestrel trusted their friendship and acquiesced to being escorted.
They walked together silently for a while, and once again, Kaga did something strange. She broke the silence without being prompted.
"I am Akagi's partner," Kaga explained. "Her role is that of the flagship of our fleet. The best is only as good as her support. While we are both capable individually, she, with me supporting her, is more capable than the two of us combined. If that makes any sense."
It made all manners of sense to Kestrel. All of her crew members were outstanding individually. Still, when working together perfectly, their efficiency and ability became more than the sum total of their strengths. Proper teamwork makes people's strengths multiply by one another instead of merely adding together.
Kestrel appreciated the heart-to-heart conversation. Kaga didn't usually say much and didn't opt for such personal discussions. She struck Kestrel as stoic, serious, reliable, and pragmatic—a steep contrast and compliment to Akagi's warmth and openness. So, if Kaga deemed this conversation worth having, it must have held more import than even Kestrel knew. She wished she had mastered the art of writing so she could jot this information down for later, repeated consideration.
Kestrel took the lead as she felt peckish – a word she learned for only slightly hungry – and they were pounced upon upon entering.
"Kaga!" Zuikaku said demandingly.
The more energetic carrier advanced on Kaga with an accusatory finger. "I heard you've been trying to steal Kestrel for carrier group one while we've been off on a mission." She explained.
That's why Kestrel hadn't seen her or her sister since that first day.
"You've been corrupting her!" Zuikaku went on.
The accusation was mostly in jest but partially genuine. Zuikaku and her sister were significantly smaller than Kestrel, and she could see why they would expect her to be paired with them for her size and their need for a third member on their team.
Zuikaku spoke such sentiments as these as her interaction with Kaga continued and heated up. Kestrel was strangely reminded of her sister, Buzzard, but couldn't figure out why. It's not like they'd ever spoken or interacted in any way resembling human behavior. And yet, her memories of the ship told her she was like Zuikaku. It was very strange.
The jest in the conversation was soon replaced by genuine animosity between the two. Seeing Kaga worked up was new to Kestrel, and she didn't like it. Instinctively, Kestrel stepped in between the quarreling ships.
"Stop!" Kestrel shouted, holding her hands in a 'halt' signal to each ship. "Allied ships should not fight."
Kestrel continued, still heated but no longer shouting. "I've seen it before and never want to experience it again."
The two stopped momentarily, but that moment was enough for them to realize they had gathered a crowd of onlookers. Their looks of surprise at Kestrel's forcefulness were soon replaced by ones of mortification.
Kestrel donned her own mortified expression when she remembered where she was and who she was chastising.
"Excuse me," Kestrel said, apologizing before hurriedly walking away.
Kestrel spent the rest of that day alone for the first time since her arrival. She ruminated on her final battle, that sea of chaos, where the enemy ships turned on each other, and how terrible that had been to witness. In that same battle, Osea branded her a traitor, and they opened fire on her.
She remained silent for the rest of that day as she walked around the base. She allowed her legs to take her where they might, and somehow, they worked independently without her needing to think or visualize her movement as a ship. Her daily PT was working. She was getting a handle on this whole 'being human' thing, and the humanities classes hadn't started yet.
She focused her thoughts within. She usually did this at night, wielding the strange ability to walk within her own halls and facilities. She would later learn that this was called 'interoception,' but she just called it reminiscing.
Every hallway within her was empty, yet she kept searching for her crew. She never found them. They were really gone, and she was really alone.
She skipped dinner and snuck out to the archery training area when night finally arrived. She had hoped Akagi would be there. Her calm kindness would have been a big help. When she arrived, it was to find the place empty.
She walked over to where Akagi stood when she practiced and gazed at all the practice targets. What had Akagi done? She had held out her arm, and her flight deck appeared, and holding out her other hand, she had materialized a bow. But how?
Kestrel was growing restless, feeling useless in this new body and frustrated at her slow progress. But now she needed to do something as natural as floating in her old body. So far, she's learned that as a shipwoman, she has direct control of her body; certain things just happened of their own accord, and others she could just will herself to accomplish. Could it really be that simple?
Kestrel imitated the first movement, subconsciously issuing a command to prepare for flight operations. She was amazed when the fore half of her flight deck appeared on it, just like when Akagi did it. However, when she repeated Akagi's motion to summon a bow, the aft half of her flight deck appeared instead of a bow.
She instinctively realized that she could use all four of her catapults to launch fighters, so there was no need for a bow.
Satisfied that she managed to manifest some of her armaments and painfully aware that she had no fighters to launch, Kestrel settled for just drilling, going through the motions, so to speak. She leveled and pointed her right arm at the nearest target, which bore her fore deck and primary catapults.
As expected, at least as a ship, the catapult started billowing steam when the correct launch pressure had been reached. Unexpectedly, the steam plume coalesced and solidified into a familiar raven black jet, locked on the sled for catapult one, and launched before Kestrel could react.
Her breath caught at the sight of one of her angels appearing. A sharp chill ran through her as if she'd been plunged back into the freezing depths where she'd once sunk. She stumbled back a step, her hands trembling. She watched as it flew to the first target, firing a missile that hit its dead center before diving into a circular turn with its 20mm Vulcan, leaving a trail of trace fire. It hit every target, including the furthest away, in that single turn before banking back towards a shocked Kestrel.
A mental tug brought Kestrel out of her catatonic state. The plane's pilot had communicated it wanted to land. Less by will and more by instinct, this time, Kestrel raised her left arm with her aft deck and waited as a falconer does for their partner to alight on their arm. As always, her angel made a perfect landing despite Kestrel shaking from her actively suppressing her panic attack.
When the arresting gear brought the little black jet to a complete stop, Kestrel could no longer deny her recognition of the black F-14 Tomcat with the Demon of Razgriz squadron insignia on its nose. She clenched her fists, trying to suppress the storm inside her. But the more she stared at the little black jet, the more the weight of the past crashed down on her. A lump formed in her throat. Then, her body betrayed her, a single sob escaping before the floodgates opened.
But then, the entire dam broke.
She hadn't realized she'd been shedding tears since the moment the plane launched, but now a heart-wrenching wail escaped her. She vividly recalled her final moments before she was dragged into the crushing depths. The Razgriz had flown one last time. It had been her final act, her last defiance before oblivion.
So what was one of them still doing with her? Had she misremembered? Had she failed?
With her self-doubt escalating and shaking hands, she picked up the small plane from her deck, afraid that it would burn her or, worse, be an illusion. But no, it was real. The metal was cool under her fingers, solid and unyielding. Her mind screamed that it was impossible, that it shouldn't be here—yet the warmth in her chest told a different story. Her Angels had never abandoned her before. They had always come when she needed them most—and she needed them now.
Getting more under control, Kestrel hugged the plane to her chest and cradled it like her first baby. When she peered inside the canopy, she stopped crying.
"Who are you?" She asked.
She peered inside the cockpit, half-expecting to see Blaze or Marcus, but the face that stared back at her was... her own? No, not quite. It was smaller, rounder—like a doll's reflection of herself. The tiny pilot lifted a hand and saluted. Kestrel reached for her—only for her fingers to pass through empty air as the little figure faded like mist in the morning sun. A choked sob escaped her. Her hands felt suddenly empty like she'd lost something precious again.
She collapsed onto her knees, openly weeping once more.
She held her face in her hands, her sobs growing softer but no less painful. The past had returned, uninvited and unwanted, wrapping around her like a fog she couldn't escape. She didn't know how long she stayed like that, lost in sorrow.
Then, a voice cut through the haze.
"Kestrel?" It asked.
She looked up at the new, unfamiliar voice, resenting its owner for daring to interrupt her misery. That resentment fled her when she saw who it was.
It was a new shipgirl she'd never met and far smaller than the others. Even the ones she had compared, mentally, to children were more physically mature than this one, who could only be described as a toddler. She even held a stuffed animal to her chest protectively.
It was some kind of bird or falcon.
No. It was a kestrel.
Kestrel focused her eyes, intending to see this girl's form, only to receive another shock. This little girl was flying the Flag of the Yuktobanian Navy.
"Why do you weep?" the tiny ship asked.
Her grief was momentarily forgotten, and Kestrel stared at the cutest ship she'd ever seen, at a loss for words but determined to figure out who this stranger was.
"I remembered my friends and family, who I had lost in another life. You remind me of them. Who are you, little one?" Kestrel asked hesitatingly, worried that her messy state and bloodshot eyes would frighten the girl away.
Without warning, the little girl threw herself into Kestrel's arms, squeezing tightly despite still clutching the stuffed bird. She was so small, so light—nowhere near enough to move the massive carrier. And yet, as Kestrel felt those tiny arms around her, it was as if the world had shifted beneath her feet. Embracing Kestrel, the little girl looked up at her, revealing new tears.
"Mama Kestrel!" she cried, sobbing, "I finally found you!"
Kestrel saw a tiny frigate in her arms. Unbidden, the recollection of the first loss of her fleet—not even a proper defector, but a conscientious objector merely trying to de-escalate a chaotic situation—exploding from simultaneous strikes to her magazines by her own fleet assaulted Kestrel. No… it couldn't be. It had to be another illusion. Another cruel trick. Another ghost.
Her heart clenched. It would mean opening the floodgates again if she let herself believe. But the longer she held the tiny ship in her arms, the more real she felt. Her weight, her warmth, the way she clung so desperately. And then, finally, Kestrel whispered—barely more than breath.
"...Pitomnik."
Thanks again to SheepReaper for commissioning this fic and to my patrons whose continued support allows me to write.