“[Fleet] isn’t one thing. It’s basic to being a shipgirl. Everyone has it, to some degree.” Wakumi began her lecture.
“I’d thought you were like other freighters, Miss. Just reporting your [Status] and staying quiet. They don’t like talking to warships.” The Carrier waved it away, shaking her head.
“[Fleet]. Every ship in one knows it is in a [Fleet]. It connects us, lets us share details, updates, [Status]. It’s what carries true [Order]-s. As I speak, we’re talking in more ways than just as girls. I’m sharing my [Status], readiness reports and details about my complement, equipment, class, armament, range, fuel. [Fleet-sense] is part of that.” Wakumi spoke, her path gently swaying side to side as she kept up with Taylor.
“I’m not sure what you can feel with it, Miss. But much like shipgirls, it comes in two parts. What is considered Morale, of the girl and her crew. The feelings of everyone in the fleet, as individuals and as a group. The part that are crews and girls. Love, hate, exhaustion, victory or...“ She shuddered. “Mutiny.”
Wakumi shook it off.
“The second part is the ship. Cold, dark steel and oil, engines, planes and guns. Repairs, reloads and such.” She paused for a moment.
“Miss, what can you hear?” Wakumi asked, a bit tense.
Taylor tried to figure it out. The common pool, this Fleet Morale she was familiar with. Not proficient, but at least she could see it, feel it. The other half, not so much. “Which tracks too well with how this life has been going.”
Being a ship wasn’t Taylor’s area of expertise. But as she blindly groped for something, she could feel something. It was a cold, mechanical undercurrent, a base on which the pool rested. Something mechanical touching her, passing into her through it. It was her bridge crew that clued her in, one of her officers. The communication officer was busy scrawling things into their notebook from the radio to the beat of that cold undercurrent. She could almost hear what they were saying.
Taylor followed the links of conversation and knowledge pouring from that station towards the First Mate and from him int-
-
What was she doing again? Taylor blinked, looking at Wakumi’s concerned face.
“Where was I?”
“Are you alright, Miss?” Wakumi asked in turn, with just a bit of concern.
Shun cut in: “You focused and it looked like something was making sense when your face suddenly went slack, Taylor. Then you woke up.” The sub didn’t not look at all happy with that.
“What?” Taylor asked, just before amused whistling started up on her command deck.
“Give me a moment,” she excused herself.
A boilerbeat later Taylor watched the Wilted Lily get brained by a journal that came out of nowhere. The Lily smirked as her petals bopped Little One on the head even as her voice affably responded: “Well it’s not my fault the ship can’t see it when you cover it with your Cloak, Captain.”
Taylor didn’t stick around for the fallout. The instant that journal was out of the hole in her bridge, she could feel it. A web of links, or thought. Reports and meaning radiating out of that little book in threads that connected to every officer on her ship, some equipment like her planes, and more. Spreading out of her and reaching out to other ships. Taylor’s vision lost focus and her brain stuttered like an old screen as an alien kind of understanding tried to force its way into her head.
She fell into the opening in that web, like going down a set of stairs and finding the next step missing. Below was a cold, metal thing. Mechanical yet alive. Unfeeling and unknowing of anything but war and violence. It felt like someone was punching her right inside her brain. Not so much pain as pure confusion. Thoughts and concepts falling out and others filling in.
Like reality had tilted sideways and nothing made sense anymore. Distance lost meaning as a mile became a yard and a ton was lesser than an ounce, more like a grain. Heat and cold spread both sides of the scale and a rain of bullets was less than dust. Taylor saw colors that didn’t exist and heard beyond sound, saw beyond sight, as emotions and faces lost all meaning. She was lost in a world that no longer made any sense, but not in actual pain.
“Just completely unsure what the hell is going on.”
Random 1s and 0s whizzed by her thoughts like lightning as incredibly loud pings rang in her ears to a backdrop of wind and working prop engines.
Petals touched the hole in the world Taylor had fallen through, high above her, and slowly it changed. The entire mess, the whole incomprehensible soup filtered up the well, carrying Taylor along into the web of connections, knowledge and training until she completely lost track of it and herself. The last thing she saw on her way up were the petals of a flower.
***
Taylor woke up to a swaying deck/feeling sick. Her body/hull had kept sailing/running even without any input from her, so that was good to know. But she felt thrown about/nauseous. Like she was about to vomit/leak.
“It’s in my bridge/head and it needs to get out.”
Then it did. Like remembering a lost memory, the data, the meaning, slowly unwound. Flowing from her head and into the bridge crew and back. From a foggy, pounding pressure into clarity. Taylor took several deep breaths in the silence around her.
[Fleet - Status]
*
Key: Name, Type – Model, Status, Morale
Taylor Hebert, Panamax Princess (Princess) – Uwi-Class Lead - Slated for Refit, Fully Functional, Ragged Edge of Exhaustion
- PT Imp Pack III, Abyssal Destroyer (DD) – Advanced Model, Fully Functional, Worried for Mother ship
-- High Speed Torpedo
-- High Speed Torpedo
- Reconnaissance Seaplane (3)
- ???
- ???
Wakumi Watanabe, Nu-Class Light Carrier (CLV) – Flagship II, Fully Functional, Hopeful/Adjusting
- Abyssal Cat Fighter (21)
- Abyssal Hell Dive Bomber (12)
- Abyssal Revenge Torpedo Bomber (12)
- Abyssal Air Radar
- 20mm Autocannon
Sapphire, Ne-Class Heavy Cruiser (CA) – Kai II, Fully Functional, Ready for Orders.
- Abyssal 8inch Twin Rapid Fire Gun Mount
- Abyssal 8inch Twin Rapid Fire Gun Mount
- High-speed Torpedo mod.3
- Abyssal Reconnaissance Observation Seaplane
- 40mm Twin Autocannon Mount
Shun, Yo-Class Submarine (SS) – Regular Model, Fully Functional, Smug and Worried
- High Speed Torpedo
- High Speed Torpedo
Itchy, I-class Destroyer (DD) – Obsolete Model – Elite Auxiliary, Fully Functional, Providing Morale Support
- 5inch Single Gun Mount
- Sonar
Temporary Auxiliary Support:
Kaede, Ra-Class Repair Ship (AR) - Regular Model – Elite, Mostly Functional (Temporary Sunblind), Resigned
- Ship Repair Facility
- 5inch Single Anti-Aircraft Gun Mount (Secondary)
- 40mm Twin Autocannon Mount
*
An onslaught of meaning spilled right into her mind. Each line another rabbit hole to fall down, unwinding in more information, knowledge, but no longer all trying to rush her at the same time. None of it so much as written, but more like opening memories someone had carefully packed away. Like finding out you suddenly knew Japanese.
Memories she didn’t make, yet were undeniably hers. But not only hers. Some mix of Taylor the girl and Taylor the ship. A compromise either side could understand. There were no two Taylor’s. Just Taylor the shipgirl. But in the moment, Taylor felt acutely aware that she was a ship like never before. Being a girl she knew how to do. The ship parts were entirely new and if she hadn’t been practicing, sailing for weeks now, it would have thrown her for another loop.
Her beam was over a hundred feet and Taylor was over nine; nine hundred feet long. Each of her cranes could lift more tons than she could have lifted pounds and her full weight was more than fifty thousand tons.
“How?” She asked the heavens and the Abyss. Hell, she’d ask a Thinker if she had one.
Taylor looked at her regular sized arm in awe, wonder and a bit of horror. She was a girl, she was a ship; she was a shipgirl. Taylor had known it. Now she understood it.
“No wonder I can just peel tree bark off a palm or crush stone without effort. But how does that work? Am I a Breaker now? Changer, Shaker?”
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No PRT officer jumped out of the waters to suddenly explain. At this point, Taylor would have been glad to spot someone from the PR department. At least it would be familiar.
Parts of her were still covered in soot, coal dust and other dark muck her crew were busy scrubbing off her. They were tired. They were all tired, but for some of the officers. Hell, there were parts of her Taylor couldn’t even name.
[Status]
*
- ???
- ???
*
Taylor knew how to use them, or rather, the insects on her sensor crew did, but she couldn’t even name what they were. Except that one reminded her of radar and looked awfully familiar. A moment later she recognized it: the Light Carrier sailing next to her had the same one. Looking at it had a line jumping out at her out of the list that was now hanging in the back of her mind.
[Status]
*
- Abyssal Air Radar
*
Specifications, performance, ability, range, uses; All of it poured into her mind. Everything but the blueprints themselves for the device or the instructions and manuals on how to use it.
Taylor noticed the other ship signaling her, but the signals coming over made no sense. Why would anyone use horns and speakers to talk ship to ship when she had a perfectly functional radio? What kind of ship communicated in sound waves? It was so short ranged and inefficient. Taylor turned inward, sensing that something, perhaps, wasn’t quite right. Her damage control checks led her to her boilers and their steady beats. One was sparking, in familiar, almost warm light while both beat. One, after the other.
Almost like a heartbeat.
*
“…Miss? Miss, are you alright? We lost you there for a minute.” Wakumi asked, past concerned, having left worried behind and full of dread.
“That was over an hour, not a minute! You broke her. Now let me help already.” Kaede accused, trying to close with Taylor, her cranes out and ready, yet the other girls weren’t having it as Wakumi blocked her path.
Shun and Itchy were right next to Taylor, glaring and growling at the repair ship. “No touching the Princess. How do we know this isn’t your fault? Some Court plot?” She accused.
“Hey! Stop that.” Taylor objected, swaying in line. She was fine. It was a hell of a ride, but she was fine. Mostly.
“Ragged Edge of Exhaustion. It’s not that bad, is it? I don’t feel that tired. I’ve had worse.”
The coherent, people words put a stop to the fretting. Wakumi reached up to swipe some sweat from her brow.
“Great!” Wakumi smiled. It was wobbly, frail thing. She was besides herself with worry.
“That’s great, Miss.”
Shun’s skepticism was loud enough it was leaking out of the usually quiet submarine without her saying a thing.
“Are you sure nothing is wrong?” Kaede asked.
“Yeah. Just a bit of a Bertha moment.” Taylor answered, trying a bit of humor.
Kaede flinched. “Oh.”
The Ra-Class turned away and murmured: “She wasn’t supposed to hear that.” Her shoulder hunched and she whispered. “I’m sorry?”
It was part question part apology, but Taylor didn’t mind. And wasn’t about to confirm it. Well, no, usually she might mind, a bit, but she was busy right now.
“Hey Wakumi, could you send over whatever you have on your radar?” Taylor asked, while the burst of mixed understanding was still fresh.
“Of course Miss. I’m happy to help.” Relieved with having something to do, her eyes unfocused, but quickly came back to Taylor.
“Oh. It’s rude to ask for blueprints from anyone but an Installation or other Court member. You can get in trouble with the Court for that, Miss. Except for a tender. They can ask for, trade or share munitions plans freely.”
Her attendant dove back into herself, leaving Taylor to wonder just how many rules there were she wasn’t aware off. Or how much trouble she might be in if someone found out just how many blueprints she had on her.
“Anyone happen to have a list of these rules? Laws by the Court?” Taylor wondered.
“Yes Miss.”
Taylor nearly leapt out of her own skin. Four was on her other side from the rest of the Fleet. A few steps back, in a perfect position to ambush her.
While Taylor tried to calm her thundering heart, the Heavy Cruiser continued innocently:
“I’ve foreseen your needs and decided to exert my initiative to create copies from my internal records for you Miss.” Four was almost beaming, very proud of herself. Almost formal and sounding nothing like he-
“Never mind. Just keep running. Don’t think about it.”
“Yes. That would be good. Thank you?” A moment later it hit her: “You can read?”
“English, Japanese, Spanish and French, Miss. A bit of Italian and Russian. I’m also a qualified logistics Second, Miss,” she bragged.
“Actually no, now she’s beaming.” Taylor shuddered. Seeing the Ne-Class Cruiser happy made her back itch and want to brace for a new and unusual round of humiliation.
The smile got a bit wooden. “That good. That’s good Four. You stay on that.” She tried.
“Of course Tay-Tay-Oneesama. Whatever I can do to help,” Four said with relish.
“That’s just wrong.”
“Here you go Miss.” Wakumi jumped in, saving Taylor from having to dwell on that.
Taylor took the files and froze. Holding the written down files and manuals in her hand. In Japanese. “Wakumi, can you read?”
The Carrier blushed and lowered her eyes. “Only a little, Miss.”
“Then why- how did you-”
“Can your Nightmares?” Taylor got out.
Wakumi flinched, fully body. Lurching, stumbling over her own feet as every girl present edged away from Taylor.
“I wouldn’t know, Miss.” It was said quietly, but Wakumi quickly forced herself to continue, even if it scared her something fierce to talk about and she wouldn’t look at Taylor.
“Facing her Nightmares is really dangerous for a girl, Miss. Especially before she feels ready. Without the proper precautions she can lose pieces of herself to the Abyss when she shatters. Never get them back. After the first failure, odds of success drop, a lot. Kind of hard to Ascend with pieces missing.”
She was shaking from just talking about it and whispered at the edge of hearing: “And even then, no Ritual can save a girl who falls to her nightmares. She becomes a Demon.”
The Carrier continued a bit stronger, overflowing with a sense of failure but with wisps of duty tinging it: “If we break, at least we can be put together again, most of the time, Miss. There’s no coming back from a broken Ascension. You can’t ever be a Princess. Not anymore,” she whispered.
“You’re stuck as a Demon, forever. The Nightmares bleeding into every waking hour. Only able to grow into a bigger monster for the war. Until someday you go mad.”
The young woman lifted her golden eyes to meet Taylor’s. They were filled with unshed tears.
“I never could gather up the courage to try. Sorry, Miss.”
Taylor could almost feel the words, like they were coming out of her own lips, so wide was the connection. They tasted of failure. Failure and deep, deep shame. The apology was as much directed at Taylor, as it was to herself.
Taylor hadn’t meant to rub her Princess-ness into everyone’s faces.
“But I just did. Fuck.”
The conversation died.
At least she got one of those figured out. Why her ship-self hadn’t was beyond her. Beyond her understanding and beyond caring, right now.
[Status]
*
- ??? - Abyssal Air Radar (ID from Wakumi)
*
***
They were more than halfway to Kauaʻi when Taylor’s eyes were drawn beyond the horizon. There was a hole in the world there. A well from which something was calling her. Inviting her to come and fall down it. Whispering that she should keep falling until there was nothing left. Around her or of her.
It was a footprint in the sea. The imprint of a boot. Not much bigger than hers. A single boot-print, about nineteen miles South-Southwest of the mouth of Pearl Harbor. Swaying, bobbing up and down on the surface of the sea. On each wave. Not too deep, just like someone had walked over mostly dry concrete.
Fixed in place, position, even as the waters moved around and under it. Each mark of it, each impression in the surface was burning. Burning with a dark flame, the color of which reminded her of the waters she’d pulled Shun from. Whispering without sound, calling Taylor with Silence.
“Ok, enough is enough. Why is there a creepy, burning footprint near our path?” Taylor asked the moping ships. Itchy not included, but he had calmed down after the last talk. It’s why Taylor decided to give them some space. He clearly knew what he was doing.
The three not-Flagships gave said Flagship a look. “I’ve said all we’re supposed to say, Miss. But you are a Young Miss.” Wakumi weighed that in some invisible calculus in her head.
“As long as you’re asking and you know they’re just rumors, Miss? I suppose then it’s alright,” she concluded, giving all three girls a quelling look.
“Well if you’re not going to tell me more?” Taylor asked, leadingly. She’d prefer a more detailed official version to rumors, but she’d take what she could get if she had to get anywhere within sight of that freaky footprint. Wakumi shook her head.
“Wait. How bad is this going to be?” Taylor asked.
“I’m not sure what you mean, Miss?”
Taylor sighed. She felt like she’d been doing that a lot lately.
All three girls launched into their own telling of the story of Raven’s Progress. At the same time.