South Dakota stared down at the girl that twisted fitfully in her arms with such intensity one might be led to believe the battleship had x-ray vision.

Sadly, South Dakota did not have such an ability. And the reports she'd been hearing from her crew made her thankful she didn't have such an ability, either.

In the mere ten minutes, it had been since the death of the Re, and her, Iowa, and Kongo preparing a joint bordering action, the cruiser known as Isabella looked just as poorly on the inside as she did on the outside. Machinery smashed, the lights shattered, and countless other defilements and destruction performed by the now trapped borders. One last act of wanton destruction.

Isabella had spent most of those moments twitching violently in her arms, nearly thrashing in her grasp. But as more and more invaders fell, the less pained her expression became. Though it was still too far from peaceful for comfort.

Still, the fact her crew had started to return was a good sign.

South Dakota winced, as Iowa let out a whistle of impression, while Kongo simply looked amused. She couldn't blame Isabella's crew for being excessive in their desire to take back their ship, but unloading an entire clip into an imp after impaling it on a bayonet was simply a waste of ammunition.

But there was still going to be an issue once they made it back to the Vestal. The numerous plates of Abyssal metal had been welded into her body. Something would have to be done about those before Isabella could be put into a repair bath. Nobody knew what type of effect they would have on her when combined with the repair fluids. They might do nothing.

The risk of them having adverse effects was much too great for them to take, however.

Which meant they were going to have to come off. A process bound to be just as painful as the one that saw them attached.

"Don't," Isabella muttered, far from the first time, head rolling aimlessly. South Dakota wanted to run her fingers through the cruiser's white hair, though she doubted it would bring Isabella any comfort.

However, she would make sure what Isabella feared would never come to pass. She could do that much, at least.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Vulcan was a flurry of activity, even before everyone had returned. Outside of Isabella, which she had already been told would need attention before they could place her in a repair bath, nobody was too horribly wounded.

But the fact they had told her Isabella was a different case entirely was already setting off alarm bells. Even Luzon didn't need her full attention. Physically, at any rate. Psychologically was a completely different story, she could already tell, not that she blamed the small PT boat.

The footfalls of several battleships echoed down the hall, signaling Isabella's arrival.

Vulcan had expected an unconscious patient. Not a cruiser with a dopy, almost drugged up grin on her face, doing her best impression of a boneless cat. Watching South Dakota struggling with a light cruiser in a fight to avoid dropping her was almost amusing if it wasn't so concerning.

Especially given all the black splotch's that a distance almost looked as if they were fused into her body. She didn't need to be told why those needed to go.

"Put her down on the table, and I'll get the medicine," she frowned, moving over towards one of the cabinets. Sure, the light cruiser was loopy and probably wasn't feeling much of anything. But operating while she was asleep would be considerably easier.

Aw, yes, there it was. She was a light cruiser, around a Cleveland class in size and weight. That would mean. One and a half pill dose.

Though South Dakota's movements didn't escape her notice. Based on the numerous rents, dents, and outright punctures in her shields, she'd take a beating of her own out there. Vulcan wasn't too surprised by that, nor the fact she'd still insisted on carrying the light cruiser all the way here. Even if she was doing her best to mask her injuries.

"Can you prop her up for me, please?" Vulcan turned around, as South Dakota did as instructed. With considerably difficult, as Isabella had yet to stop doing her best impression of a boneless cat.

"Isabella?" she started, hoping the light cruiser would respond to her name, even in her current state. Vulcan wasn't above forcing the pills down her patient's throat if that's what needed to be done. But she preferred that it didn't reach that point.

Slowly, Isabella's head turned to face her, actually staying up straight for a moment. Before flopping to the side.

"My name is Vulcan. I need you to say, ah, okay?" Isabella stared at her, the eye's slowly blinking. Great, so she was none responsive.

"Vulcan?" Isabella's head rolled over to the side, chuckling as she went. "Like the Salamanders?" This time, it was Vulcan's turn to blink as her patient continued to giggle and snort as if she had just heard a funny joke of some kind.

Sure, it was something Vulcan had heard a few times before. No, that reference was made far too often, almost to the point.

But how would Isabella, a ship who spent lord only knew how much time behind enemy lines, make that reference? It made absolutely zero sense.

"Vulcan?" South Dakota spoke softly, tilting her head towards the now cackling light cruiser. Well, it wasn't exactly her saying ah, but it would do.

Isabella swallowed the medicine in an instant, before resuming her laughter, which steadily began to taper off.

"Haha, sleep go," Isabella's eye's closed, head falling over, breathing lightly as the medicine took hold.

"Damn, that stuff works fast," Iowa looked impressed, as Vulcan reached for a welding mask.

"Yes, it does," Vulcan reached over towards her equipment. "Thank you for your assistance South Dakota, but it's probably for the best if you hit the baths yourself. This will probably take a while."

"If it's the same to you, I'd rather stay," South Dakota stood up, the battleship seeming to think she could hide her injuries from the smaller repair ship. Behind the welding mask, Vulcan's eye's narrowed.

"South Dakota, I can tell you're injured. You walking around like this isn't going to help anyone," Vulcan snapped, despite the battleship easily reaching up to more than triple her displacement.

"I understand your concern, South Dakota, but she's safe right here, and in good hands, to boot," Iowa stepped in, placing a hand on the older battleship's shoulder. "I'll keep an eye on her until you get back, okay?"

Vulcan watched South Dakota's eyes shift between the three of them, almost moving like a blur.

"I," the battleship breathed deeply. "I understand. Thank you for staying, Iowa." South Dakota made her way to the door, her gaze lingering on the light cruiser for a moment, before heading down the hall.

"Thank you for that," Vulcan sighed. Iowa simply nodded, though the frown of concern didn't escape her notice.

Still, there was work to be done.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Another blackened plate popped off, revealing the puncture wound beneath. Vulcan stopped being surprising after the fifth, honestly. This went beyond torture. This was nothing but cruelty. At this point, she might just have to send in her repair teams now.

Breaking off another offending chunk of Abyssal metal further down Isabella's arm, she noticed something. Carefully, making sure not to further disturb her patient, she lifted her hand at the palm.

And almost instantly regretted it, gagging behind her mask. Vulcan didn't think a finger was meant to bend the way Isabella's was, but she didn't realize it was indicative of her entire hand.

"What? Happened?" she hissed as Iowa made her way over, noticing her reaction.

Isabella's fingers were a knarled mess, and that was simply on a single hand. The other was likely just as bad, though at the moment she wasn't in any rush to check. One of her fingers had been twisted around completely, its twitch the reason Vulcan had even been drawn to the light cruiser's hand.

"We found her jumping an Abyssal destroyer, beating it to death with her bare hands," Iowa didn't seem as disturbed over the matter as Vulcan was. "We don't know if she did it to any others, but I think so."

Vulcan had to agree with Iowa's assumption, but they'd have to know more to be sure. She'd need a damage report from Isabella's crew to be certain about the extent of the damage, of course. But there were a few other factors at play. This easily could the result of multiple collisions with destroyers.

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

Or it could be Isabella, in likely blind panic and pain, simply wasn't throwing a proper punch, just flailing blindly. That could cause injuries in humans, even broken bones if she recalled correctly. Such might affect the armor after multiple collisions.

Just a hypothesis, but it only made the necessity of having eyes on the inside all the more important.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Hey, hey hey hey," their guide managed to weave their way through the throng of people running through the halls. Various crewmembers ran back and forth, carrying guns, ammunition, alongside scraps of metal ranging in size from a dinner plate to a full sheet.

Occasionally, a gunshot would ring out, signaling that another invader that had been hiding in some dark corner had been found and killed. All around them, holes were being patched up and repaired.

"Hey!" another fairy, one in an engineering uniform, waved at a group of sailors that were just about ready to start sealing a minor gash, redirecting them elsewhere.

The closer they got to their destination, the thinner the crowds and repair efforts got. Soon the only other fairies they saw were patrols, squads of fewer than 4, each one armed. Here, the walls of the ship became marred, damage easier to see the further they got from centralized components.

"Hey, hey hey," the fairy paused, jotting down notes as they finally reached the section of the ship they were interested in.

"Hey," entire sections of the hull were crumpled, warped in a manner consistent with collisions. No. Not collisions. Ramming. Just more. More of everything. That was the only explanation. Repeat, numerous, and brutal ramming.

"Hey!" their guide crossed their arms, letting out a huff.

The warping to the hull was extensive. Miraculously, her hull hadn't been torn open, but in some places, it was a near thing.

Sure, this wasn't anything the bath couldn't fix. But that wasn't the entirety of their orders. While the internal damage may confirm Vulcan's hypothesis, they still had been sent to collect the full extent of Isabella's injuries.

Which had been problematic, given that most of the damage team was busy trying to fix the numerous gashes in the hull, alongside the burned damage reports.

If they could see more of the damage, they might be able to get a clearer picture of the mess.

"Hey! HEY!" their guide suddenly shouted, leveling his rifle down the hallway.

It looked like a monster. Its limbs too long. Its teeth too long and too numerous. Its face lacked anything that could be considered eyes. Its mouth opened, letting out a screech that could only be described as unnatural, and charged.

BAM! The gunshot cracked out, reverberating down the hallway as the bullet smashed directly into the imp's skull, sending it plummeting backward.

"Hey, hey hey,"

Yes, returning to the relative safety of the bridge sounded lovely.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"Iowa, it seems your crew missed a few," Vulcan frowned, already hearing back from the few she had sent in. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the battleship wince.

"Some hid themselves during the fighting. Isabella's crew said they wanted to deal with the remnants," Iowa frowned. Vulcan understood. She could easily see how her crew would react if she had been in the light cruiser's shoes.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Admiral Richardson rubbed his hands against his forehead. The good news? Isabella and Luzon had been rescued and were now safe, and a second force could be sent to wipe out what's left of the Abyssal presence. The bad news?

Just about everything else. Luzon was already shaping to be a multipronged legal mess. Due in part because Luzon technically served under the United States Army, rather than the Navy. A factor likely compounded by both her service in the Japanese Navy and made considerably more problematic because the in exile Philippine government would certainly make noise about seeing Luzon returned.

And that was without touching on Isabella herself.

He'd already ordered that debriefing wait until she arrived back as Sasebo. An action that only proved to be wiser in hindsight.

Of course, the report he had been given wasn't painting a good picture. Isabella having to be reboarded. Her body covered in Abyssal metal sheets, delaying her from being placed in the repair bathes.

On top of the those above him breathing down his neck trying to figure out how a light cruiser ended up enemy territory in the first place, alongside her current condition. The latter of which he intended to play close to his chest until Richardson had more information. Granted, he desired information about the former as well. Of course, that wasn't the only question he had.

And those questions revolved around the last person Richardson wanted to tell about this. Seattle. How exactly did one tell someone they not only had a sister but that said sister had been captured and tortured by an enemy force?

That was not an easy conversation to have under normal circumstances. The problem was, Seattle shouldn't have a sister. Still, there was a chance the two ships could be different, but that seemed increasingly unlikely. More than a few reports went into Isabella's physical appearance, and he would be lying if he claimed to not see the resemblance.

Which, if she was Seattle's sister, then that raised several questions. Several questions Isabella might not be able to answer.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

It. It felt like I was floating. The relaxing lapping of ocean waves. Soothing.

Then the pain came. Roaring back, screaming through my entire body. Everything felt like fire, wreathing, and bellowing.

Every nerve ending fired in unison, again and again, wracking every inch of my body with agony.

My eyes opened, body jolting upward, gasping.

Steam filled the air. All around me was a wall of steam.

Where? Where was I?

I let out a hiss as my head throbbed. No, I didn't have time for this. I needed to think. I needed to know how I got here.

Okay. I appeared in the Pacific. I headed into the Philippines. I met Luzon shortly thereafter, giving myself the ship name of Isabella. Then.

My head throbbed again. No. I needed to remember! There was a combat operation. A few. Rescuing a downed pilot, the assault on the gun.

The KNIFE as it STABBED, STABBED, STABBED.

Something tore itself from my throat as I gasped, pain flaring up across my body.

What? The Hell? Was that? What was I forgetting? I, I, I needed to run?

Something? Could I run? No? Did I need to run?

There was PAIN and BLOOD and PAIN, but there was a person? A woman?

She picked me up? I think?

My brain throbbed and pulsated, hammering into the sides of my skull, almost intent to crush itself. Or batter its way out, one of the two.

Water lapped against more and more of my body as I sunk back down. I don't think I'm in danger. At the very least, my sense of DREAD and TERROR were gone. Plus, I wasn't going anywhere fast.

Wait? How did I know that? I should have both legs, right?

See, there's one. Everything should be, just, fine…

Not fine. Not fine. Absolutely and completely not fine. My leg. Where was my leg? How? How had it been RIPPED and TORN from my body?

Pain continued to well up, with me biting back a scream as my hands clutched my skull. Make it stop! Make it stop!

Something had come with my hand. Something stirred at my side as if awakening from slumber.

"Isabella?" the voice was familiar. Licking at my inflamed memory.

Slowly, my head began to turn. Two brown orbs stared back at me.

I stared back. Could it be? Could it really be? Her? She's, she's okay? She's alright?

"Luzon?" I couldn't get out the words. She was fine. She was unhurt. Oh, thank goodness. I felt wet heat began to flow down my face. Tears. These were tears.

"Isabella?" her arms began to wrap around me, like thin, tiny wires. But they were warm, and light. Gentle, like a feather. Careful, not to hurt me.

I returned the embrace, not caring how much pain my arms were in. She was safe! She was safe! I pulled her close, clinging to her like a lifeline. She was safe!

And at that moment, that was all that mattered.