Rora Raven's Snippet Thread

[Aurora Raven]

Currently writing a Kancolle fic, a Nikke fic, and an original story. I'll post snippets from them here as I complete and clean them up. Maybe one day one of them will be in a good enough state and coherent enough for a story thread of their own.

Snippets may not be written in in-story chronological order, index and threadmarks will show chronological order.

Index of stories and chapters:

Homecoming - Kancolle - In Progress

1. Arc 2 - Mascot Learns CQC
2. Arc 3 - Mascot Goes to Church
3. Arc 3 - Mascot Gets Mugged
4. Arc 3 - Reunion with Glorious

Processor - Original Mecha - In Progress

1. Chapter 1

 

[Aurora Raven]

Spoiler: Context

This is intended to be in Arc 2 of the story.

Tungsten had been my teacher for almost everything in this new life of mine, but for this, she told me to look elsewhere. I had expected to be directed to one of the cruisers, the heaviest direct combatants we had given our dearth of non-carrier capitals, instead I was told to approach 'the twins'. Apparently when it comes to fighting up close, I couldn't do better than learning from Acasta and Ardent.

I had seen them a few times, our Princess' honour guard, but I'd never talked to them, until now.

They look much like the other destroyers, short, young teenagers in appearance, but I can feel that they're not. I had thought the strength of the Abyss I could feel surrounding them was because they were next to my Princess, that it was her aura I was feeling, but she's not here, and it's still powerful: it's coming from them too.

These two are champions of the Abyss in their own right, if not Princesses for lack of a fleet, still cut from the same royal cloth: Duchesses maybe, or Dames. One of them is striding towards me.

"So you're the new carrier. Not hiding behind Tungsten like usual?" Her whole demeanor is aggressive.

I'm not sure if this is Acasta or Ardent. They look identical, wait, no, there's one difference on their clothes: they both have three black stripes on their upper right sleeve, but the one talking has one stripe on their upper left too.

And, my other sight, seeing the ships behind the people. I can see the pennant numbers painted on their sides, 'H41' and 'H09'. I still don't know which is which though, I can't see any names painted on them.

"Tungsten recommended that I ask you two to teach me how to fight, physically I mean."

"A carrier wanting to get her hands dirty? I'll believe that when I see it," Mocking and derisive, I don't know which one this is, but I don't like her. The other approaches.

"Don't scare her off Ardent, it's good that she wants to learn." She turns to me, stepping ahead of the now named Ardent. "I'm Acasta, that's Ardent, and you've come to the right place if you want to learn how to fight in close quarters. We'd be glad to help." I much prefer Acasta to Ardent.

"Oh, uh, thank you."

"Only polite to introduce yourself too, carrier." As if you can talk about being polite, Ardent.

"I'm Vi—Mascot." I correct myself quickly. "Where do we start?"

"Lots of practice, but we can start by seeing where you're at right now, introducing some core concepts, and imparting a few key lessons, and we believe that nothing imparts a lesson quite like experiencing it." Acasta says, then steps back.

Pain! Shit! What? Someone just punched me in the side of the head. Ardent! Bitch just jumped me in the middle of a conversation.

"Lesson one Mascot: Vigilance. You were distracted, you didn't notice me lining up for an attack. You think the enemy is going to wait for you to finish talking before they strike? Come on. Fight back. The exam has started." Ardent has her knees bent, making an already small target even smaller. She's bouncing on her toes, ready to dodge or to attack.

I don't know how to fight, I've never thrown a punch in my life. Size matters in a fight, right? I'm much bigger, as long as I don't get surprised again, I can do this.

Ardent has grown tired of waiting for me. She dashes forward, she's fast! I try to intercept and swing at her as she approaches. She shifts to the side and dodges easily. I try to evade her strike, but she's faster than me, argh, right in the ribs.

I'm still trying to regain my footing from miserable attempts at a punch and a dodge when she hits me another two times before retreating.

"Lesson two: Play to your strengths, not theirs. A fat bitch like you trying to contest agility with a destroyer? Stupid." Ardent is certainly giving me plenty of incentive to hurt her.

"She means that you shouldn't have tried to dodge that. You couldn't, and it left you open for more. It didn't hurt much did it? You're slower, but you're tougher. Take the hit, grab her after she commits, then you've won." Thank god for Acasta.

Ardent brings her rigging out, four guns, bigger than mine, but still not particularly scary. The two quadruple torpedo launchers are the real threat, or they would be if we were on the water. She can't use her weapons here, what's the point of this? It's not like she has any particularly sharp parts of her rigging to use as improvised melee weapons. Maybe she's just getting into it, my rigging sometimes comes out when I'm excited about something.

She's more cautious now, making several fake starts, daring me to try and lunge at her again. I won't fall for it, she can't hurt me without getting close, and when she does, I'll have a chance. I just need to be patient.

"Hate doing this, tastes like shit and stains everything." Then she starts exhaling thick, black smoke. That's not natural smoke: there's way too much of it and it's spreading too quickly. It must be more Abyssal bullshit. She disappears into it and it soon covers me too. I can barely see a few feet in front of me.

I take a few steps back, trying to make some distance, give myself a little more time to react when she attacks, but it's not much help with visibility this bad. I'll have to make do, the plan hasn't changed: wait, grab, don't let go.

She sprints out of the smoke with a right hook to my jaw and a knee to the groin. I try to catch her, but I'm too slow and she disappears back into the smoke before I can grab her.

I'm fine, that hurt, but she didn't actually do much damage, I'm not anywhere near out of this fight.

She came from my left, which direction will some come from this time? I try to listen for the sound of her footsteps on rock, but I can't hear. The smoke must be muffling it somehow, which doesn't make much sense, but I've learnt that when it comes to Abyssals, the concept often matters more than the physics, and a smokescreen is meant to conceal. I'll have to make a guess and be ready to be wrong.

She came from the left last time, I'll be ready for an attack from the right.

From the left again! I was guarding my right and out of position, she pushes my arms away, further to the right, as she slams several rapid fire punches into my bottom left ribs, where my kidney would be if I still had them.

She knows exactly how many hits she can get in and pulls back moments before I can pull her in.

This is infuriating. Nothing she's done has actually damaged me, but it's clear that she's in control of this fight. Trying to predict her was a disaster, fine, I won't try to be clever, she's faster and more skilled, so I'll put everything on my armour and my mass. I can take a hit, and I only need to get lucky once.

She attacks again, I backpedal and with more luck than skill, manage to catch her arm in the crook of my left elbow. Yes! I close it tight and wrap my right arm around her torso.

"Got you!"

She kicks at my legs, but I can take it. I shift my left arm to hold on to her torso as well, completing the bear hug. I'm probably not doing it right, and it's an awkward hold, but I have the strength advantage to make up for it. I could crush her torso like this and she has no way out; I've won the fight.

"Yield." I'm smiling.

"Heh." Why is she also smiling?

Something hits me in the back of my knees. I'm falling! I try to catch myself and release Ardent as I do. Someone just jumped on my back, Acasta! She pulls something tight across my face. I try to inhale, but am stopped short, clear plastic blocking my nose and mouth. I try to get Acasta off my back, but I can't reach properly, and she keeps dodging my flailing hands.

I try to reach for my face instead, rip whatever this is off, but Ardent grabs my arms and holds them down. I can overpower her, I just need a bit more time, I need air!

I can't break free. I feel weak. Oxygen… I…

I don't feel the need anymore. My arms fall to my side, my legs collapse, I fall face down onto the ground.

Ardent isn't holding me, Acasta has stepped off me, but I still can't get up. Nothing is responding.

"You forgot lesson one, Mascot. You were so focused on Ardent that you forgot about me entirely. This is going to take a long time if you forget a lesson less than five minutes after being taught it." Acasta continues calmly, as if she didn't just take me down in a matter of seconds right when I thought I'd won.

She's not holding anything to my face anymore, why can't I breathe? I try to call for help, but I can't inhale to do it. Acasta rolls me over, so I'm facing the sky. It doesn't matter how much I try, nothing responds. I can only move my eyes, all I can do is look at her.

"Without oxygen, your boilers flameout in a matter of seconds, without boilers, your turbines stop, you don't have hydraulic or electric power, let alone propulsion. In other words, you're paralysed." Acasta explains.

Radio! I can call Tungsten! No, my radios don't work, there's no power. I can't breathe in, can't move any of my limbs. My crew are in chaos, nothing works: not the communications, not even the lights. For all my efforts, I can just about move a finger.

"Lesson three is 'Don't fight alone'. That's especially applicable to carriers like you. If you're alone, something has already gone wrong and it's probably time to retreat. Outnumbering the enemy is a big advantage, and one that can cascade into an insurmountable one as long as you and your allies work together to pick individual enemies off."

I try to focus on Acasta's lecture, her steady words, as if nothing is wrong. Nothing is wrong. This was just training. They can fix me. They have to be able to fix me.

"Fair fights are for losers, gang up on them, bring them down, then kick them whilst they're down." Ardent interjects and accentuates her point by kicking me as I'm down.

"I hope you'll remember these lessons Mascot, they'll save your life. Maybe I need to carve them into you." Acasta crouches over me, pulling out a knife. A knife shouldn't be able to hurt me.

She brings it closer, letting me get a good look.

It's a brutal thing: near a foot of dark metal, roughly hewn out of a larger piece. Sheared sides ground down to a handle, and a seven inch blade with sharp, cutting edges, ending in a piercing point. The bastard offspring of a commando dagger and a scrap metal sword made in a shed.

"This is one of my prized possessions. It wasn't easy to make it, but it's more than proven it was worth the effort. Abyssal steel; carved out of the armour belt of one of Tirpitz' girls. Twelve inch thick battleship armour, strong and hard enough to get through any ship's skin, especially yours."

She made that out of a battleship's flesh? I hope that poor girl was dead, not just paralysed like I am right now, screaming inside whilst this little psycho cut her apart.

"You may be a capital, with far more horsepower than me, but for all that you're an 'armoured' carrier, your skin is still fairly thin, which means even with my meager strength, I can do this."

She presses down, her horrific weapon cutting through my skin, leaving a shallow wound in my chest, a tear in my hull.

"I could cut your machinery apart right here."

She stops, pulls the knife away, then brings it to my neck.

"Or carve off your island."

She lingers for a moment, then steps away.

"'Course, whilst I might need a special knife with my dainty hands, a battleship, well, they don't need weapons, they've got it built in. Have you ever seen it? A battleship ripping a ship's boilers out of her chest? Crushing them in front of her? It's a terrible way to die: paralysed, helpless, irreparably crippled without a full rebuild.

If your bridge is gone, your crew can fight on. If your arms are gone, you can kick, or run away. If your legs are gone, you can fight, or drag yourself away. If your boilers are gone, you're done, it's over.

Guard. Your. Boilers.

The lesson is over for now, go get patched up, and do better next time." She starts walking away, is she just going to leave me like this?

Ardent bends down over me.

"Just so you know, if Acasta wasn't there and you'd actually caught me in that hug, I would have blown my own magazines and sent us both to the Abyss. I've sunk for Glorious before, many times, I'm not afraid to do it again." There's no fear in her, only fanaticism and absolute belief, surety that if she sinks, she'll come back. She gets up and walks away.

Body desecrators and suicide bombers… the company I'm in.

Acasta looks back at me.

"Your boilers and fuel are still hot, your crew will be relighting your boilers right now. You'll be fine in a few minutes." She leaves, following Ardent.

At the start of this, I thought Acasta was nice, the good cop to Ardent's bad one, evidently, all cops are bastards. Tungsten could have warned me about them. I'll be having words with her when I can move again.

I can't believe I got taken down by fucking clingfilm

 

[Aurora Raven]

Spoiler: Context

This is intended to be in Arc 3 of the story.

In the time since the Mascot Learns CQC, Mascot's whole fleet has been sunk and she has run away to land.

I honestly have no idea how Phoebe became a Catholic. We're not even a Catholic country. Apparently she got into it whilst undergoing cancer treatment. I suppose facing death isn't the worst time to find God. She's recovered now, though kept her new faith.

She's not even all that public about it, the first time I found out was when she asked us not to take the Lord's name in vain. She's slightly more relaxed about it now, though I still do her the courtesy of not using Jesus as a swear when she's around.

She's one of the few people who doesn't look at me like I'm a monster, the least I can do is be tolerant of her faith and show interest in something she is passionate about.

Which is how I find myself walking to church with her.

She's enthusiastic about it. I don't think many people are even slightly receptive to her faith, even if she's not pushy.

"It's not a service or anything, and I picked a quiet time, so there definitely won't be a bunch of people, you're fine with one or two right? We can leave if there are too many, just tell me if you're feeling the urge too much.

It's a shame about that, we've got a really great community here and they'd love to meet you, I'm sure you'd all get along great. Maybe you'll be up for a meet up in the future."

Doubtful, I can barely walk along a busy street and keep control, let alone interact with a bunch of humans. Meeting her community is going to end in a lot of dead churchgoers, followed by me being hunted down and killed by Shipgirls.

"Maybe some other time." Still, I won't shoot her down, even if it'll never happen.

As we arrive I pause outside the church gate, Phoebe looks back at me.

"Something wrong?" she asks.

"I'm not going to spontaneously combust if I set foot on consecrated ground right? I was never that close with God, and that was before I was subject to a dark ritual and turned into a demon." I say hesitantly.

I'm only half joking. I don't consider myself religious, but the world of the last few years, not to mention my own intimate experience with the Abyss, has rather forcefully made me reconsider the existence of the spiritual and supernatural.

She sighs and turns to face me.

"You're not a demon. You haven't tried to tempt anyone to sin, you don't serve Satan. You're one of God's children, and there's no power in the universe that can change that. Here..." She pulls out a silver crucifix necklace from her shirt and holds it out to me. "You're not repelled, hold it."

Taking it into my hand, it's just a necklace, my skin doesn't start sizzling.

"See, no burning, you'll be fine, now come on." She crosses the boundary and looks back at me, beckoning me forward.

I take a hesitant step and place one foot on holy ground. Nothing happens. Another step and my whole body is within the boundary. Nothing happens. I feel slightly ridiculous for worrying about it now, but who knows how these things work.

"Ok, I guess I was just being silly." I try to laugh it off.

"Mind you, you might be possessed by a demon. A voice in the back of your head tempting you to the sin of wrath and urging you to commit murder does sound pretty demonic. We can talk to the Father about it, maybe an exorcist could help you."

Jesus Christ…

She actually believes this stuff. I keep my face neutral as we enter the church itself. It's not particularly large, several pews, an altar, stonework walls, and stained glass windows. All in all, it looks like every other church I've been in. There are only a couple of other people inside aside from the clergyman..

Phoebe goes ahead to talk to the Father and the other churchgoers, I hang back by the entrance. I can't help but feel like I'm intruding.

They're approaching me now. It's only two people, I can handle this. I force a smile.

"Hi, you must be Victoria, I'm Mary, this is Norman. Phoebe told us you were coming." She extends a hand and I shake it in what must be the limpest, weakest, handshake in the world. I can't risk the slightest force when touching a human. Introductory obligations complete, I return my hands to my pockets, where they won't hurt anyone.

Mary is short, blonde, and wears glasses. For all that she looks mousey, her demeanor is extroverted and forward, bubbly like a puppy. I can see why Phoebe and her are friends. Norman is brunet, more reserved, and far taller than anyone else in the room, must be at least 6 ft, likely even two or three inches beyond that.

"Come have a seat, we have tea and coffee.." Mary invites me over to the back of the church where there are some amenities. "You can take the sunglasses off in here"

The overly large and dark shades have become a fixture of my face every time I'm outside of my house. I look like a prat with them on, especially indoors, but anything less doesn't block the glow of my eyes.

"You sure?"

"You don't need to hide here."

I take my sunglasses off, seeing the place in unfiltered full colour. Norman flinches a bit, Mary doesn't, even as her eyes widen. I can see the reflected blue glare of my eyes in her glasses.

"Your eyes are certainly rather unique."

Hardly, I share them with countless others across the seas.

"Yeah, they stand out quite a bit now. My eyes used to be brown, my hair too. Maybe a bit boring, but I was happy with them."

They tell me about their lives and general situations, I share some of mine, sanitised. They lap it up; it must seem an exciting adventure to them. It's clear they've never been confronted with Abyssals, Shipgirls, or the war in general, insulated as they are in the most middle class of counties.

"That must have been so scary for you. It's terrible the things that happen out there, but you're safe back here now." Mary coos after I finish a story.

Their sympathy is sickening. I've been here an hour, long enough to be polite and a genuine effort, I don't need to take this anymore. I make my excuses and leave with Phoebe.

"Thanks for coming, I know that was hard for you." At least Phoebe is appreciative.

"Their sympathy is misplaced, I don't deserve it. It's offensive to the people who do. The 'terrible things that happen out there', I am the 'terrible thing'." Contempt is leaking into my voice, my ability to act depleted.

"You're doing that self hate thing again. I thought you were over this." Phoebe sighs.

"Don't dismiss this. I've killed a lot of people. No, I've murdered a lot of people. Not because they were a threat, or because I was ordered to, because I could, and because I wanted to, and I enjoyed it."

"We've all done bad things, it's what we do going forward that matters."

Is she serious? We've all done bad things? This is ridiculous, I'm a mass murderer, how can she sweep that under the rug?

"Saul persecuted Christians before he found redemption as Paul. None of us are beyond saving. We learn, we regret, and we do better."

God damnit, here we go again.

"I don't regret what I did, I think about it fondly, still. I didn't have a moment of clarity and redemption, the only reason I'm being 'good' is so I don't get killed. My motivation is entirely selfish. I appreciate your kindness, but you're not grasping the enormity of my sin or the blackness of my soul." Perhaps a little dramatic, but I'm feeling dramatic right now.

"I can't change your mind, Victoria, I can't make you forgive yourself. It's not my place to either, just, remember that you didn't choose this, you're a victim in this too."

That's not true. I remain quiet.

We continue walking. Eventually, I break the silence.

"You said I didn't choose this." I start.

"Yeah."

"I think I did. I think I did choose this, to become this." I confess.

"What are you talking about?" Phoebe is confused.

"When I was… In that ritual, when I was melting, dissolving, when my body was falling apart and I went to that place, I was so scared. I begged, and cried, for anybody to save me, for anything. 'Please, I don't want to die, I'll do anything', and then I didn't die, I became this instead.

I wasn't alone, you know. There were two other people with me, dragged into that ritual chamber. They died screaming, there was nothing left of them, and they didn't come back as something else. I alone walked out of that ritual.

Maybe I accepted a deal, maybe I wasn't brave enough to die as a human. Maybe those two men before me were strong enough, brave enough to keep their humanity to the end, and I wasn't."

"You were under duress…" Phoebe starts, but I cut her off.

"Do you think the Abyss cares about legality? It knocked, and I let it in. It offered me life, and I accepted, and now I belong to it." My voice grows more rapid and uncontrolled as I recall the moment I sold my soul.

She stays silent, I've done the impossible and managed to shut her up.

"I don't think there's any coming back from where I've been, Phoebe. Thanks anyway, I'll see you some other time."

I walk away.

 

[Aurora Raven]

Spoiler: Context

Also from Arc 3.

The days are getting longer, but still short, it's not even 20:00 and night has already fallen. There aren't that many people on the street, though it's still uncomfortable, tempting. Holly notices me staring at them.

"We can take a side road if there are too many people here for you. Through that alley on the right." She points out the path and offers.

"Yeah, probably a good idea." I accept.

We turn into the alley, the streetlights behind us giving us long shadows. They fade as we go deeper and the light gets more distant.

A person is coming up the other way, damn. Take a detour to avoid being near humans and then have to walk right by one, unlucky. I link my hands behind my back, gripping my fingers tightly and step to the side to let them pass.

He doesn't pass.

He drops an open bag on the ground and removes his right hand from his hoodie, he has a knife.

"Cash and phones, put them in the bag."

Holly steps back. "Ok, just please don't hurt us." Her arms up in surrender, already taking her phone from her pocket.

Are you kidding me? You're just giving up?

"Fuck off, I'm not giving you anything. Walk away." I'm not.

"Victoria, what are you doing?" Holly hisses at me.

He waves the knife in what is supposed to be a threatening manner. I don't feel any fear though, just a rising excitement. There is no danger here. I could try to de-escalate, or subdue, but I don't want to.

"Try it then. You want our stuff? Come and take it." I taunt. I've been so controlled for so long, morsels of dull satisfaction that never sate me, and now an opportunity presents itself to me. I can feel a wide, unhinged grin forming.

"Crazy bitch, I'm not fucking around, do you want to die?"

I answer with a step forward.

He makes up his mind, makes his move, lunging towards me, knife stabbing towards my abdomen. I could dodge, I could block, I don't.

The blade cuts my shirt, presses into my skin, then stops, unable to part steel. It slides across the surface, producing a high pitched screech as it scratches my paint, but fails to find purchase.

That would have seriously hurt a human, very possibly killed them. It's only chance that this guy found me instead of someone else. What scum. A would be murderer.

I'm justified in everything I do now. I can indulge myself and leave the world better off. Live by the sword, die by it, from one killer to another.

He falters, off balance, but he pulls his arm back for another attempt, or at least, he tries to. With my right hand, I grab his and hold it in place, the knife still pressed against me. I am immovable, all his wrenching achieves is pulling himself forward. He has no hope of overpowering me.

Confusion is clear on his face, with his free hand, he swings for my head. I don't even flinch from the punch. It does dislodge my sunglasses though. With my left hand, I take off my glasses, letting him see my eyes, glowing blue. He can see what I am now, what he has brought upon himself. Confusion gives way to panic, to terror, and I bask in it.

My hand is wrapped around his, and I slowly, ever so slowly, squeeze. His flailing becomes frantic, an animal caught in a trap, delicious fear.

A crack, a bone breaks, the screaming starts: the anthem of my people. Yes, this is what I live for. The pain, the suffering. It's been so long. Another crack, then another, faster now.

All too soon it's over, my hand is closed, blood dripping from it. What's left inside is barely recognisable as a hand. Torn skin, pulped flesh, shattered bones wrapped around a deformed knife handle.

I let go, and he collapses, cradling his ruined hand to his chest.

He desperately crawls away from me, trying to get back to the road.

Does he think the people there can stop me, can save him?

My eyes are locked on him. In the periphery I can see my rigging flickering in and out of existence as I close the gap, a light fog misting the ground around my feet.

I reach down and pull him to his feet, then hold him to the wall. My left hand curls around his throat, tight enough to hurt, but not to kill, not yet.

"Do you want to live?"

His crying is near incomprehensible, but I'm fairly sure he means yes.

"Then beg for it."

His hysterical pleading reaches a crescendo, beautiful music. I'll make this last.

I place my right index finger over his heart, and press. Millimetre by millimetre, its advance is crawling but inexorable. Fabric and flesh parts before my nail.

"Mascot! Stop!" Holly shouts.

I pause.

"You already destroyed his hand, let him go!"

"It's not enough! I can't stop now."

"You know what will happen if you kill someone. Don't throw away your life over this piece of shit."

I'm a warship, a carrier, a fleet carrier even! I'm worth more than this insignificant reprobate. I want this. I need this! This was only a taste, an appetiser, and now I'm starving.

I'm not worth anything if I can't control myself.

With great effort, I withdraw my hand, then punch the wall beside his head, my fist turning the unfortunate brick into dust. His screaming is at least a little satisfying. I throw him down, none too gently, and watch as he sprint-crawls away from me.

"That was the right thing to do. Would have been better if you didn't maim him though."

This fucking insect dares lecture me?! Let's see how well she does that without a jaw.

No, wait, this one is my friend. Shit.

"Let's go." I just want to go home and forget about all this, or daydream about finishing the job.

"Are you going to put away the metal and change out of Abyssal-chic first?"

What? Oh. My rigging is fully manifested. I'm wearing a skirt again. I should have noticed the heels. I'm so out of it.

"Yeah, give me a sec."

Push down the ship, push down the Abyss. It recedes: the mist, my rigging, the monochrome clothes I was remade with.

"We probably should have held that guy and called the police." I'm slightly calmer now.

"Neither of us could have held him whilst we waited for them."

"I could have." I say, a little petulantly. I've been robbed of my treat.

"Not without further maiming and or killing him, and then you'd have to talk to the police too. Still though, hopefully he's been scared straight and won't go attacking someone else."

"We wouldn't need to worry about that if you had just let me kill him." The knife is still on the ground from when he dropped it. I bend down to pick it up. "Well, if this isn't going to be evidence, I might as well take it."

"What are you going to do with a knife…" She trails off as I take a bite out of the blade.

"Can always use more steel. Good quality stainless, not bad."

The rest of the trip home proceeds without incident, Holly splitting off as our routes diverged, though the situation is bad enough as it is. I've put myself in the worst of both worlds by seriously injuring him whilst not killing him. I didn't get to kill a human, and I'm going to have to explain what happened to the authorities when he inevitably goes to a hospital screaming about an Abyssal crushing his hand. It's not like there are many possible suspects, even if my tag didn't give them my exact location in that alley at the time of the incident.

It was self defence, I was afraid for my life... no, they'll never believe that. Defence of another, then. I was fearing for Holly's life; she's a squishy human and that blade could have killed her. I disarmed the attacker, and in the heat of the moment, in the face of a threat to a human's life and limb, I used too much force. I'm very regretful of my mistake and its consequences, it'll never happen again, but this was not sadistic criminality.

They'll buy it, they'll want to buy it. A murderous thug isn't a credible witness or sympathetic victim and I'm a valuable asset. Holly will back my story. Should I get ahead of this? Proactively reporting it would look better, but there's the chance a criminal wouldn't report it, then I'd be tarnishing myself for nothing. No, even a criminal will report an Abyssal, I'll report it myself.

Ping

Surely they're not that fast. There's no way. I check my phone, please don't be the police or the navy, no, it's our group chat.

Holly: Home safe. Some guy with a knife tried to mug us, but Victoria messed him up.

Phoebe: Oh my god, what happened?

Fuck, please do not say anything incriminating.

Victoria: Guy came at us with a knife, I disarmed him, I think I broke his hand when I did though. Hopefully he isn't hurt too bad. I just wanted to get that knife out of his hand asap with the way he was trying to get at Holly. We would have called the police, but he ran off and we just wanted to get home.

Please take the hint.

Holly: Right.

Has she understood?

Phoebe: I'm so glad you're both safe.

Holly: Don't feel bad about falling off the wagon.

Victoria: Don't say it like that. I'm not an addict.

Holly: Right…

 

[Aurora Raven]

Spoiler: Context

This is the peak of Mascot's emotional suffering and the fic's angst, it should fit in near the end of Arc 3.

No one is looking at me. A heavy raincoat with the hood up, my hair bundled into my collar, gloves, a hat, sunglasses, a facemask even; every inch of me is covered up. Even in the middle of spring, the weather is still cold enough to blend in. It would have been better if it was raining, but it still works, for now. Summer will be harder. As long as I don't do anything stupid, nothing will give me away.

I shouldn't be here, I'm risking everything with public transport, but I need to get to Portsmouth, and driving myself is even more of a risk. A two hour drive leaves far too many opportunities to lose focus, give in to an intrusive thought, and run over a bunch of humans. I've got my noise cancelling headphones and DIY cardboard blinders, they'll be life savers, literally, when I'm amongst people in the city of Portsmouth. Maybe I should have tried a taxi instead, but I barely planned before beginning my journey when I read the message from Hood.

The message had upended everything. It contained a few status updates and miscellaneous news, but there were only two words in it that I cared about.

Glorious summoned.

My Princess is back! She's alive! I can't feel her, but maybe the bond just needs to be refreshed: a new life, a new connection. I just need to get to her. She'll know what to do.

The train arrives, blessedly uncrowded, and I board without fanfare.

Two stops to Woking, switch to platform five, then nine stops to Portsmouth.

I can't wait to see her again. I'm giddy at the thought, fingers tingling in excitement. I've been so lost without her, but that'll be over soon.

The scenery flies by, in no time at all it's time to switch trains.

I take a quick glance up to read the signs. Platform five, platform five, there. People, humans, damn, eyes down. It's nearly three PM, there are more commuters now. Too many. Focus on the mission, only on the mission.

Ok, platform five. How long before the train gets here? Twenty five minutes! The previous train must have left minutes before I got here. Bad timing. No matter, all I need to do is nothing. I can do nothing.

I stay far from the edge, far from the humans, pressed against the wall. Idle hands make the devil's work, I grip the handrail behind me. You're not ruining this for me, I tell them, as if they really have a mind of their own.

You're supposed to stand behind the yellow line. Why are these morons standing so close to the platform edge? Don't they realise someone could shove them right in front of a train? No care for their own safety.

I want to push them off the edge.

My fingers leave imprints in the metal railing I'm holding on to. Property damage, hardly the most egregious of my crimes.

After what feels like an eternity, the train pulls up to the platform. I let the humans do their deboarding and boarding before I push off from the wall and board myself.

I find myself a seat as far from anyone else as possible, headphones on, eyes down. Hopefully I look unapproachable enough that no one will take the seats beside or opposite.

Nine stops, all the way to the end of the line, over an hour. This train isn't as empty as the last.

Focus on the music; seven stops. Focus on reading something, five stops. Think about my Princess, all the things I'll say; three stops. The things we'll do; two stops. Focus on anything other than the humans; one stop left, nearly there.

"This train ends its journey here." The tannoy announces. Finally! I'm off the train, off the platform, out the station.

HMS Warrior greets me outside, tall masts standing proud. No doubt it would be a violent greeting if she was awake.

This whole place feels different from anywhere else I've been. Generations of ships have called this port home and I can feel that history in the air, the ground. It's like this port has a spirit of its own.

I shouldn't be here, even aside from the humans, it's like I'm intruding on a sacred space, infiltrating the heart of my enemy's power. Oh well, if it does have a spirit, it can get over my presence.

There are several museums here, and the war, along with its celebrity fighters, have made the place even more popular. The street is packed with humans gawking at everything. Eyes down.

I pull my phone out and check the map and my route again. The Shipgirls are at HMS Excellent, on Whale Island, two miles through city roads. I don't know if I can do it, but I must.

Blinders on, restricting my view to the ground. I should have brought a red and white cane, I might as well be deaf-blind with how much I have to block out my senses.

One hand clenched in my pocket, the other holding my phone where I can see it. I'm navigating entirely via the map and GPS.

I was right to avoid cities, this feels impossible. Two miles might as well be a thousand. I'd crawl a thousand miles for my Princess, I can walk two.

One foot in front of the other, one pavement tile at a time. Countless feet pass me by. I'm not an animal, I'm in control, I decide what I do. I'm not letting anything stop me, not today.

A road. Can I risk crossing blindly? Can I risk looking up? I wait till I see another pair of feet making the crossing, then cross with them. Another obstacle overcome, every step closer.

Thirty agonising minutes later, I'm at the bridge to Whale island.

"Miss, you can't enter this area, this is an active Royal Navy base." Two guards block my way. They're armed, as if those rifles will do anything to me. I push down the murderous intent, not now, and phone Hood. She'd better pick up, or I'm going to broadcast on radio, nevermind that every Shipgirl on the base will hear me.

"Mascot, hello." She picks up.

"Hood, I'm outside the base on Whale island right now, you've got about five minutes to come let me in before I let myself in. I think these guards will appreciate you saving their lives."

"What? You're where? How are you here? Nevermind, I'm coming. Do not hurt them!" She hangs up. It sounds like she's hurrying. Good. I wasn't bluffing about going through these guards.

I'm nearing the limits of my patience when Hood sprints out the gate and across the bridge. She takes a moment to confirm that the two guards are alive and well before turning to me.

"How the hell are you here? How did you get past all the people?"

"With great difficulty, now where is she?" I grind out.

"Who?" You know exactly who.

"Where is my Princess?"

"Glorious is here, but she's only just come back, I'm not sure now is a good ti-"

"Take me to her." I cut her off.

"Mascot, I real—"

"Now, or I'll find her myself." I can't go through Hood, let alone all the other Shipgirls here, but I'm willing to try.

I can see her weighing up her options.

"Fine. Follow me." She acquiesces.

She leads me past the guards, into the base proper. Naval staff and Shipgirls are all over the place, but I don't care about them, not right now.

"In there." Hood indicates a room.

I open the door. She's there. She looks different; her hair is blond, her skin is human, her eyes too, and her clothes are like the other Shipgirls, but it's her, Glorious, my Princess.

"Princess!" I shout out and run to her.

She pushes me away, stumbling back, creating distance with her arms out.

The look on her face is disgust.

"I'm not your Princess! Never again!" She sneers at me.

"But, Princess… Glorious. It's me, Mascot. You remember me right?" I plead.

"I don't want to." She turns away from me.

Why did I think she would ever smile at me again, ever welcome me again. She's a Shipgirl now, and I'm an Abyssal. She can no more love me than I can love a human.

"I'm sorry. I… I just… I'll go."

I turn and run. Away from her, away from how she looks at me, away from my deluded hope that there's still someone who loves me.

What do I do now? I thought things would get better when she came back. I should have known better; Abyssals don't get happy endings.

I'm not even sure where I wander to in my daze, everything is blurry through the tears anyway. Hood catches up to me.

"About Glorious, she's fresh from the summoning, her time as an Abyssal Princess is still fresh, and they're not good memories. Being an Abyssal is traumatic, you remind her of that. She just needs some time to come to terms with things… with you." Hood tries to explain.

"... I'm going home." I don't even try to respond to her.

I call a taxi for the journey back, then shut down in the backseat for two hours until it delivers me there.

I'm done, I'm out. I don't know what to think, to do, to feel.

It's evening by the time I get home. I should probably eat something, but I can't be bothered. I just sit on the sofa and try not to think as hours pass.

I fail at that. I spend all night thinking, of what could have been, of what is, the vast gulf between the two. I'm torturing myself, but in the moments between, a plan forms.

The next day, I'm roused from my lethargy by the doorbell. What now? Holly? Oh, shit, I forgot we were going to go out today. I should have cancelled, I would have if I had remembered it was happening. I'm not doing this, but I can't just leave her outside.

I get up and let her in.

"Hi. Sorry, I'm really not up to going out today."

"That's fine. Do you want to watch a film instead?" Holly offers.

"Sure, ok." That came out too flat, she's going to notice.

"Alright, what's got you like this? You're not tweaking out like the last time you got denied your murder fix, your whole demeanor is just… sad." She noticed, and she's not the type to leave anything alone.

I can't even bring myself to be annoyed at how she describes my 'addiction' right now. Should I try to pretend everything is fine? I'm not a good actor at the best of times, and this is far from the best of times. I can't hide how empty I'm feeling, can I lie about why? Should I? What's even the point in lying about it anymore? The truth then.

"I'm thinking about going back to the sea, back to the Abyssals. Prince of Wales would take me, she's always looking for carriers." I admit.

"What? No. I thought you said it was only your Princess that called you." Holly sits up and puts her phone away. All her attention is on me now.

"It is, there's no bond to any other, there's nothing calling me there, other than the sea, but that's not why I'm thinking about it.

It's so hard, being around you, around any humans. It takes so much just to keep control of myself. I can't just hide forever, and it's not any easier being alone. I could go to the Denmark Strait fleet, I could be with other Abyssals, and sail freely without all of... this." I gesture around, at the world in general.

If she takes offense at me including her as one of the reasons for my troubles, she doesn't show it.

"Didn't you tell me that it was too dangerous for you to go look for Prince of Wales, that Tirpitz would hunt you?" She points out.

I did say that. It is true, but…

Tirpitz hunting me, sinking me… The fate of all Glorious' daughters. It doesn't feel so scary now. If it happens, it happens. I could just… stop. Whatever awaits us after we sink, the Abyss, I'll be with my sisters, I can face it with them.

I've been silently staring at her too long.

"Oh Jesus, is that your plan? Suicide by Tirpitz? I need to call someone about this, who do I call about this?" She's frantic now, on her feet, pacing around.

"I'm not going to kill myself, I'd never do that, but…" I try to reassure her.

"That is not a phrase that's supposed to have a 'but' after it, Vic!" She interrupts.

"But if someone was trying to kill me, if death was coming, I… I'm not sure if I'd try very hard to stop it." I wasn't planning on being so honest, but it just comes out so easily. I'm beyond caring about niceties and pleasant untruths.

"What's your therapist's phone number?" Holly asks, always the problem solver, always looking for a solution. I'm the same, for all that I've been unsuccessful in finding one.

"I'm tired, I'm so tired. When I came back to land, I was planning to do whatever it took to survive, to live long enough for my Princess to return. Now, she has returned, but she's not my Princess anymore. She won't even look at me." I hold my head in my hands, hunched over, my back collapsing under the weight of my misery. The way she looked at me, I don't want her to.

My whole plan is coming out now. The way I never intended to stay here, how all of this was a temporary return, and that's what made it bearable. I get up from my chair, I'm standing now too. Despair giving way to mania as I elaborate on how everything is going wrong.

"My Princess could resummon Tungsten and Goodwood! She can't do that if she's a Shipgirl!" The last word is hissed. Our hated enemy, our feared predator, and now my Princess is one of them.

"What am I supposed to do now? Hope that she sinks? I don't think I can do that, even if she's a Shipgirl now. Hope that if she does, she comes back as an Abyssal? I've never heard of any ships coming back as Abyssals after they've been Shipgirls, I have no idea if it's possible. What am I hoping for now?" I shout the question. Holly doesn't shy back from me, she's either fearless or has far too much trust in me.

"This is about Glorious." She confronts the heart of the matter.

"This is about the plan being fucked beyond any hope of recovery! All I had left was the plan: survive, wait for my Princess to come back, then she brings my sisters back. None of that is happening now!"

The momentary energy is gone, and I collapse back into my seat.

"I just want my family back." I speak the only motive I have left in my life.

"They're not coming back." I speak the truth that destroys me.

 

[Aurora Raven]

KINGPIN >>> NOVEMBER 1-1 + NOVEMBER 2-1: Retask November 1-All. Reinforce Blue squadron. November 2-All will continue mission.

MAGIC >>> NOVEMBER 1-ALL: Flow 240, Distance 70. New tasking, reinforce Blue squadron and engage hostiles at location.

NOVEMBER 1-1 >>> MAGIC: Wilco. 10 minutes to AO.

NOVEMBER 1-1 >>> NOVEMBER 2-ALL: 1-All breaking off on new task. Good hunting.

I bank left, the two other members of Team 1 following suit.

The three shapes of Team 2 rapidly grow smaller as our flight paths diverge, soon leaving visual range, though our datalink remains steady, feeding me their location and status, for now at least. That won't last as we close with the enemy and the jamming intensifies.

NOVEMBER 1-1 >>> NOVEMBER 2-2: Stay safe, 533.

NOVEMBER 2-2 >>> NOVEMBER 1-1: Wilco.

NOVEMBER 1-2 >>> NOVEMBER 1-1: 2-All will be fine, they're strong. Trust them. He will be fine.

528 knows me well. I have to trust 533, it's out of my hands now either way, and we have our own battle to fight.

Twenty miles out, we run into the first signs of electronic warfare, nonsense radar returns appearing on our scopes.

NOVEMBER 1-1 >>> BLUE ALL: November 1-All enroute, 30 miles, 5 minutes. Status?

Still no signal from Blue squadron. We should be within range, either the jamming is too heavy for them to hear us, or there's no one left alive to reply. I hope it's the former.

NOVEMBER 1-1 >>> MAGIC: No signal from Blue. Picture?

MAGIC >>> NOVEMBER 1-ALL: Picture unclear. No signal from Blue. Radar bent. Laser comm bent. Last report nine bandits on field.

I hate engaging without intel, and we're going to lose communication with our AWACS once we enter the haze. Nine enemy units shouldn't have been enough to take down Blue, but that's just how many were left when communications were lost, there would have been more before that.

NOVEMBER 1-1 >>> MAGIC: Acknowledged.

I'd prefer to take it slow, get as much of a picture of the battlefield as possible with electro-optical and infrared sensors from up high before diving in, but Blue could be dying right now. We don't have time to reconnoitre first. We'll hit the ground running.

NOVEMBER 1-1 >>> NOVEMBER 1-ALL: Reduce speed to 200. Descend to Angels 5.

Ten miles out and the radar is useless, cluttered with false tracks. We've lost our long range radio. We're only five thousand feet up, we should be getting a clear picture of the ground, but LADAR can't seem to resolve it. I expect once we get down there we'll lose laser comms as well.

Five miles out and I can see weapons fire, tracers being exchanged between two positions. Someone is still fighting, at least some of Blue are still alive. I count four friendlies, eight bandits, including a commander unit. That one will be the problem; better armed, better protected, and most importantly, commanding the drone units. Killing it will leave the rest of the enemy force depending on their own basic AI; stupid and a greatly diminished threat. The four fighting Blues can take on seven dumb drones themselves, even if we weren't here to help.

I send one last update to Magic before we descend and lose comms with them.

NOVEMBER 1-1 >>> MAGIC: Visual 4 friendly. Tally 8 bandits. November 1-All engaging.

NOVEMBER 1-1 >>> NOVEMBER 1-ALL: Engage. 1-2, hit the enemy on the right flank. 1-3, stick with 1-2 and support. I will eliminate the commander unit.

Maybe I'm babying 1-3, she is still relatively new, but then again, most pilots are compared to 1-2 and myself. Being assigned to November means she's a cut above the rest. I'll give her a more independent job next time, but a rescue mission cut off from command and help isn't the time for it.

Attitude thrusters fire as I brake and reorient from a cruise stance to a firing one. I reach behind me and unlatch my rifle from my back, it unfolds as I bring it to bear.

The commander unit is the priority, and I'll only get one shot. Without my feet on solid ground the recoil will knock me out of alignment for an immediate follow up shot, and by the time I stabilise myself, the enemy will be aware and defending. One shot, I'll make it a good one.

Rifle set to maximum power, capacitors fully charged and ready to dump all their stored energy at once, with all the velocity and violence I need to break through. I line up on the centre of the commander's torso, right where the pilot will be. The armour is thickest there, but it's facing away from me, I can hit it in the side. Even if my shot doesn't kill it, it'll be in no condition to survive what comes after.

1-2 and 1-3 are diving down. Comms, both radio and laser, are disrupted, but I don't need to talk to them to know what they're doing, what they're going to do. They're about five seconds from launching an initial salvo of missiles. With all the ECM and smoke in the air, the missiles will probably go dumb, but they'll force the enemy to dodge, disrupt their formation, and leave them vulnerable to the charge.

I want my shot to hit just before the enemy detects the missile launch, remove the enemy command and control just in time for the confused drones to get hit by the missiles. I wait three more seconds.

Lined up. Time's up. I pull the trigger.

The rifle kicks and the ground disappears from my view as I'm thrown back by the recoil. I hear the hypersonic crack as the projectile leaves an orange trail, the friction heating the air it goes through into short lived plasma.

I reorient and get ready to descend and join the battle. Reattaining the visual on the commander unit, I can see that it has fallen over, a glowing hole punched into its armour. Is it dead? Until I can confirm that, I'll act like it's just temporarily knocked out.

I see the missiles my squadmates have launched impact the enemy formation. Most have missed, but two of the drones have taken a few hits. One looks dead, the other looks damaged.

1-2 makes landfall soon after the missiles, carbine already up and firing. 1-3 right behind her, not as quick on the draw though, landing properly before aiming and adding her fire. The damaged drone quickly falls apart under their combined fire. Five drones left, plus the commander if it still lives.

I cut thrusters and let myself fall, the ground rapidly approaching. No enemy fire meets me, they've stopped firing at the beleaguered Blue squadron as well. They're far too busy with 1-2 and 1-3 advancing into their flank.

1-2 has her shield extended, weathering all the fire on the SIF reinforced plating, firing her carbine one handed. Her shoulder mounted heavy machine gun roaring out a constant hail of bullets, suppressing through the weight of fire. 1-3 is taking cover behind her, more deliberate with her fire, aimed shots putting holes through sensors, joints, and other areas with thinner skin.

My thrusters flare as I decelerate to make a, relatively, soft landing near Blue squadron. We're close enough for laser comms to get through whatever is blocking it, and our battlenets merge, feeding me their IDs and status. Blue 1-1 and 1-2 are down, the others are defending their wrecked frames. Their ammunition was running low, and line squadrons don't have access to the same advanced equipment we do. No ammunition independent particle accelerator weapons for them. We arrived just in time.

The enemy is well and truly suppressed. Drones don't fear, but they're smart enough not to stand in the open when being shot at. Pinned down as they are, it gives me plenty of time to set up my rifle and hit the enemy in a crossfire.

No commander armour to get through, half power ought to be enough, and quicker to charge.

I don't aim for weak points, this close, my darts will go straight through their cores. Fire, one enemy keels over, charge for a second, fire, a second falls, again, and again. My magazine is empty, but their formation is destroyed. Only one enemy left standing.

I put away my rifle and prepare to engage it with my own carbine, but 1-2 gets there first, charging it, shield first. She slams into it, knocking it over, before emptying her carbine into its torso point blank. It's a twitching and sparking wreck by the time her magazine runs dry.

NOVEMBER 1-2 >>> NOVEMBER 1-1: Five is enough, you're not stealing all the kills.

NOVEMBER 1-1 >>> NOVEMBER 1-2: Don't know if it's five yet, got to check the commander unit.

I walk over to the fallen commander. It looks mostly intact, except for the hole in its side. It's still trying to jam us, though I'm pretty sure that's automatic since the pilot has been reduced to a bloody mist.

Command might want to take a look at this, but I'll need to disable the ECM before I can call them to check.

My sword deploys from its storage space on my right arm, slotting into my hand and extending, the disruptor field sparking into life around it. I slice into the module on the commander's back with all the antenna sticking out of it. The disruptor field softens the armour, letting my blade cut through it with minimal resistance, and soon the entire module falls away. The jamming stops immediately.

NOVEMBER 1-1 >>> NOVEMBER 1-2: Now we can call it five. Go check to see how Blue is. I'll report in.

NOVEMBER 1-2 >>> NOVEMBER 1-1: Wilco. Looks like they put up a good fight with how much wreckage is around here.

Aside from the eight new wrecks we've created, there have to be at least ten other destroyed enemy units around. Three to one odds and still standing is a good performance for a line squadron.

NOVEMBER 1-1 >>> MAGIC: Splashed eight bandits. Blue squadron, four operational, two bent, checking status now. Recovery team required. We've got a mostly intact commander unit here as well, retrieve?

MAGIC >>> NOVEMBER 1-1: Acknowledged. Recovery time is enroute with Green squadron. ETA 40 minutes. Hold position until they arrive.

NOVEMBER 1-1 >>> MAGIC: Wilco. November 2-All status?

MAGIC >>> NOVEMBER 1-1: November 2-All RTB, mission complete.

NOVEMBER 1-1 >>> MAGIC: November 2-All processor status?

MAGIC >>> NOVEMBER 1-1: Focus on your mission November 1-1.

They made it back to base, they're not dead, that's enough for me. I'll find out more when I get back.

I take a closer look at the commander unit. There's what looks like a missile launcher on the back, though it's different from the usual ones.

I leave it alone, probably not wise to get too close to live munitions. The techs back home will tear it down properly, and safely, once they get their hands on it.

1-3 is walking up to me, an object in her hands.

NOVEMBER 1-3 >>> NOVEMBER 1-3: I was double checking the destroyed enemies. I found something. It looks like a missile, but there's no warhead.

NOVEMBER 1-1 >>> NOVEMBER 1-3: Good find, but please don't pick up unexploded ordnance.

And especially don't present it to me like a proud dog.

She's right that there's no warhead though, just an empty canister mounted onto a rocket booster. It's not really a missile.

I take it from her, and some silvery flakes fall out as I do. Taking a closer look at the flakes on my hand, this is chaff, of a sort. Relatively large reflective flakes rather than the usual thin fibres of normal anti radar chaff. This is what was stopping our laser systems from working properly.

NOVEMBER 1-2 >>> NOVEMBER 1-ALL: Blue squadron is fine, all of them. Blue 1-1 and 1-2 frames are disabled, but processors are alive. Lifesigns seem good, though we won't know if there are any minor injuries till we get them back to base. They reported losing laser comms after a missile flew over them, no explosion though.

NOVEMBER 1-1 >>> NOVEMBER 1-ALL: 1-3 found that missile. Take a look, no warhead, dispenser built into it. Looks like it's made to fill the air with these flakes, disrupt LADAR and laser comms. I think there are another half dozen of them in a launcher on the commander unit. November 2-All completed the mission and RTBed safely. We're holding this position until the recovery team and Green squadron arrive, Magic says 40 minutes, so spread out, eyes open.

NOVEMBER 1-2 >>> NOVEMBER 1-ALL: Wilco.

NOVEMBER 1-3 >>> NOVEMBER 1-ALL: Wilco.

Blue squadron are still clustered around their downed comrades. Bad move. That close together a single missile could take them all out. There's nothing they can do for Blue 1-1 and 1-2 right now, they're better off helping to watch out for more incoming attacks. I don't technically have any authority over them, but I have the seniority, and the line squadrons tend to look up to November and August, they'll probably listen. Still, I don't want to undermine Blue 2-1's authority as team lead, I'll keep it private.

NOVEMBER 1-1 >>> BLUE 2-1: Your squadron is a little vulnerable grouped up so tightly like that. We need to hold this position for 40 minutes and November could use some help in setting up a perimeter.

BLUE 2-1 >>> NOVEMBER 1-1: Wilco. Thanks for the save, and the advice.

Time passes slowly, our radars and IRST scanning the land and skies. Chances are any enemy attack will come from the west, but we daren't leave any direction unwatched.

MAGIC >>> NOVEMBER 1-ALL + BLUE ALL: Pop-up group, 280 for 30, hot, strength 10 tracks.

Here it comes.

NOVEMBER 1-1 >>> MAGIC: Acknowledged.

Magic has a more powerful radar than we do, it'll be a little time before we detect the enemy ourselves, but without the enemy electronic warfare our datalink remains steady, feeding positional data from the AWACS to us.

Blue squadron don't have much left, certainly no anti air missiles, but November 1-3 has three. Let's try to thin their numbers before the merge.

NOVEMBER 1-1 >>> NOVEMBER 1-3: The moment you get a lock on that group, fly straight up, get some altitude, then lob your A2A missiles at them and get back on the ground.

NOVEMBER 1-3 >>> NOVEMBER 1-1: Wilco.

It's not till they're twenty miles out that we get a return on our own radars.

NOVEMBER 1-3 >>> LOCAL: Group locked. November 1-3 engaging.

She shoots up like a rocket, glassing the ground underneath her with her thruster exhaust. As she reaches five thousand feet, three missiles fly off her right shoulder rack.

NOVEMBER 1-3 >>> LOCAL: Fox 3 times three. Nails. Spike!

We can see them, they can see us. They already know we're here, no point in staying quiet. I'm not set up for proper electronic warfare, but I can make some noise, clutter their scopes a little.

NOVEMBER 1-1 >>> LOCAL: ECM active.

November 1-3 lands, I can't see any contrails headed for us, looks like she was fast enough sticking her head out that they didn't launch.

The enemy will throw something at us as they get closer, and Blue 1-1 and 1-2 are in no condition to evade any incoming fire.

NOVEMBER 1-1 >>> NOVEMBER 1-ALL: Standby to intercept incoming fire.

We don't have any proper anti missile interceptors, but maybe we'll get lucky with our guns, better than nothing. Blue don't have the ammo to spare to gamble it away though.

NOVEMBER 1-1 >>> NOVEMBER 1-2: Can you cover Blue 1-1 and 1-2? Shield and pop chaff-smoke if the enemy tries to finish them.

NOVEMBER 1-2 >>> NOVEMBER 1-1: Wilco. I'll keep them safe.

NOVEMBER 1-3 >>> LOCAL: Pitbull.

NOVEMBER 1-3 >>> LOCAL: Splash two.

Two down, eight to go. We can't identify the remaining eight tracks yet, but we won't have been so lucky as to have killed the commander before the battle has even started.

All we can do now is brace for their reply.

They're just entering visual range now, eight contrails, descending.

NOVEMBER 1-1 >>> LOCAL: Tally eight bandits, 270, 5, hot.

Three more contrails shoot off from their formation, streaking towards us.

November 1-2 puts herself between the fallen Blues and the danger, chaff-smoke grenades and flares ejecting from her dispensers. They can't defend, I can, time to draw some attention.

My thrusters light up, accelerating me as I bound across the ground with long strides, half running half flying across the enemy's field of view. Jammers screaming, IR signature bright, I'm the loudest signature on the field. Lock me. Lock me.

SYSTEM: RWR Alert 270. MWS Alert.

My warning systems yell, red threat markers flashing across my vision. Perfect.

NOVEMBER 1-1 >>> LOCAL: Spike! Defending!

I continue sprinting at speeds faster than any land restricted vehicle, forcing the missiles to adjust their course, use up their energy, commit to their path aiming for where I'm going to be.

SYSTEM: MWS Proximity Alert.

My missile warning system escalates to its most urgent pitch, impact imminent. Now! I turn on one foot, attitude thrusters firing to spin me 180°, countermeasures stream from my dispensers, obscuring me in a cloud of smoke, chaff, and flares.

SYSTEM: Flight system - Main Thrusters - Maximum output.

I go from 200 knots to a standstill in half a second and 25 metres.

SYSTEM: G-Force Warning - 21g

The impact absorbent gel filling my pod does its job, my human body is intact, but I can feel the force of the acceleration on my organs. Feeling my two bodies at once is disconcerting, a lesser processor would lose sync from the sensory conflict, I shake it off.

The missiles are unable to course correct in time, slamming into the ground where I would have been had I not braked.

I'm blinded by my own cloud of countermeasures, but datalink shows there are three bandits coming in to land just in front of me. Five kills today already, I can make it eight. It's a little close for my rifle, I'll probably only get one shot off before they close on me. I unholster my carbine from its position on my left leg instead.

I step out of my smoke and see the enemy with my own sensors. This lot don't seem to have any of that anti laser chaff, my LADAR is working fine, and my missiles will too.

NOVEMBER 1-1 >>> LOCAL: Rifle.

One beam riding missile streaks out from the launcher on my left shoulder, accelerating to mach 4 within a second, slamming into the first bandit a moment later. Its warhead penetrating deeply before detonating, the torso ballooning out as the internal explosion seeks any way to escape.

One down before it can even land. The other two make it down intact and stabilise themselves before advancing.

Oh, that's not a standard unit on the right. Four legs, covered in heavy armour, and bristling with weapons. My carbine isn't going to cut it, and now it's firing at me.

SYSTEM: Attitude control system - R thrusters.

My right side thrusters fire, throwing me to the left as I juke out of the way of the incoming shots.

A few shells ricochet and spark off my armour.

SYSTEM: Structural Integrity Field - Holding

I can take a few hits.

I fire at the standard unit with my carbine as I strafe to the left, trying to put it between me and its much more dangerous companion.

Hopefully the big one is slow enough and the range small enough that I can transverse faster than it can turn. I won't last long inside of its field of fire without any cover.

My carbine runs dry, and the standard is still standing, though its frontal armour is full of holes and falling apart. 1-3 did better earlier, aiming at weak points and disabling. Recriminations later, action now.

SYSTEM: L Arm - PAC - Deploy

The snub nosed PAC mounted on my left arm opens up and spits accelerated plasma at the standard, the particle weapon delivering a lethal combination of extreme heat and kinetic energy to the already compromised armour. It blows apart, and two more flashes from my blaster doing the same to the unprotected core underneath. It falls, dead. I fire off another shot at the heavy, but it has little effect, sublimating only a thin layer of heavy armour on the surface. Yeah, thought not.

I continue evading, relying on my thrusters more than my legs, but I can't dodge everything. I need to kill this thing before my SIF fails.

BLUE 2-2 >>> LOCAL: Winchester, bugging out.

I can't spare any focus for the wider battle right now.

Ideally I'd kill this thing from range with either my rifle or the heavier accelerator cannon on my right shoulder, either have the armour piercing capability I need, but it won't give me the time to deploy either. My only remaining option is my sword, its disruptor field should be able to get through. I have to stay close to keep dodging anyway, looks like I'll need to get even closer.

Sword in my right hand, PAC on my left, I turn for another high g manoeuvre. Straight at the enemy, more incoming fire hits me. My SIF draining as it expends itself to keep the armour together, it'll last long enough for me to close, it has to.

I fire off another shot from my PAC, a direct hit to the head. Its aim falters as the ionised particles interfere with its sensors. It buys me enough time.

I blow past it, my sword cutting through the heavy gun assembly on its left arm. I quickly pivot, making another slice through its rear legs. It collapses backwards, and I plunge my blade directly down into the front of its torso. The heavy armour gives even the disruptor blade pause, but it can't last against the field tearing its molecular bonds to shreds. Two hands on my sword, I force it down and through. The machine spasms, then goes still, dead.

That was a harder fight than I was expecting, than I'd hoped. I have time to assess the rest of the battlefield.

Blue have performed well, the pile of wreckage surrounding Blue 1-1 and 1-2 a testament to the destruction they've wrought in defence of their squadmates.

Two enemy units left on the field… make that one. November 1-2 just cut a standard unit in half with a sustained burst of heavy machine gun fire. The last is the commander unit, and November 1-3 is fighting it alone.

She's dancing around it, evading most fire, angling to bounce the shots she can't, returning accurate fire into everywhere the commander's armour is thinnest. Neither has taken much damage, the commander is fully operational, but that's fine, 1-3 has bought enough time for the battle to be won.

She jumps back to make distance for a missile, but as she launches, the commander charges forward and past it. The pilots are always better than the drones. Their skill won't save them from all of us though. I unfold my rifle.

It's difficult to get a clear shot with how much the commander and 1-3 are moving, but I see an opportunity.

NOVEMBER 1-1 >>> NOVEMBER 1-3: Fire support ready, get ready to make space.

NOVEMBER 1-3 >>> NOVEMBER 1-1: Wilco.

NOVEMBER 1-1 >>> NOVEMBER 1-3: Now!

1-3 jumps up and backwards. The commander tries to shoot her down whilst she's in the air, but not before my dart hits it. It wasn't a perfect hit, striking closer to the shoulder than the core, but it cripples the arm and knocks it off balance.

It's still trying to stabilise itself when 1-3 lands, nearly on it. Her disruptor knife is out and it slices through the damaged shoulder joint, severing the arm completely. In a blink, November 1-2 is there, shield first, slamming into the commander unit. It's too much for its gyroscopes and it falls. 1-2 doesn't give it any time, firing her PAC directly into the torso, again and again until her gun is steaming and the commander's chest is a molten crater.

The battle is won.

We remain on guard, but nothing untowards happens as we wait for Green squadron to arrive and take over defence duties. The recovery team extracts Blue 1-1 and 1-2's pods from their wrecked frames, both processors seem fine, able to walk on their own power. It's not pleasant going through a hard de-link in the field though. I hope that their sensor and comms systems were operational, that they weren't left in the dark and quiet for too long.

The flight back to base is calm, a needed reprieve after the hectic battle. We fly alongside the cargo helicopters carrying Blue squadron. Poor flightless line squadrons.

In what feels like no time at all, we're back, and we enter our hangar. November 2-All's frames are already docked and vacant. It's eerie seeing them like that, normally full of life, now just machines, empty bodies.

I walk towards my own gantry with hesitance. I don't want this to end. I don't want to go back to being lesser. Eyes that see so little, clumsy limbs that don't do what I tell them to. Weak, fragile, helpless.

528 sees my hesitance, looking at me. Her head mounted spotlight flashes in an approximation of a wink.

NOVEMBER 1-2 >>> NOVEMBER 1-1: Come on. Time to be human again.

Human, as if. I can be more than human, I can be less than human, I can't…

I can't stay like this forever anyway. Nevermind that they won't let me, my human body can't stay linked indefinitely.

I turn around and walk backwards into the waiting gantry, its arms closing around me as the ground crew wait to perform maintenance.

I begin the shutdown sequence, each subsystem turning off in sequence.

SYSTEM: Structural Integrity Field offline. Motor functions offline. Flight system offline. Attitude Control System offline. Communications offline. Sensors - Radar offline. Sensors - LADAR offline.

It feels like dying. My body shutting down, part by part. Losing myself.

SYSTEM: Reactor shutdown initiated. Fuel shut-off engaged. Core temperature falling.

SYSTEM: Reactor shutdown. Auxiliary power at 100%.

Time to close my eyes.

SYSTEM: Sensors - EO/IR offline.

Blackness, no, blindness. A complete absence of sense. Get me out quickly.

SYSTEM: Processor pod unlocked. Processor delinking in 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…

--------

I come back to myself. I'm not standing in the hangar, I'm lying down in my pod, immersed in the impact absorbent gel that keeps our fragile bodies alive through the impacts and acceleration of combat. The restraints are unlocked, the various link cables are detached, I can get up. I paw at my helmet, searching for the button that will let me see. It's the only button on the left, I find it, and my visor depolarises.

Light! Too much, blinding. I shut my eyes, then open them into a squint as they try to adapt to seeing again. They should put a dimmer switch on the helmet. The pod door is open, I can see the white ceiling of the installation bay. I try to climb out of my pod, but my hands miss the handholds, grasping at open air.

Someone grabs my arm, pulls me up. I don't recognise his face. There's no IFF to tell me his designation.

"Good work out there, Five-Ten."

But I recognise his voice: Richard, my handler, carer, both.

Thank you.

"Blue squadron got back to base, two frames down, one probably a write-off, but with no casualties, thanks to November."

Good.

"Not up to talking yet?"

What?

"That's fine, anyway their handlers were appreciative. They asked me to pass on their thanks."

Did they, or did they thank you?

A white coated technician approaches, a tablet in hand.

"Look straight ahead."

She shines a penlight into my eye. It's too bright, I shy away.

"Hold still. Pupil response normal. Follow the light. Eye tracking normal."

She checks her tablet.

"ECG and EEG normal. Processor, state your serial number and squadron call sign."

Five One Zero. November 1-1.

She just stares at me.

"Processor, state your serial number and squadron call sign."

Are you deaf? I glare at her but answer again.

Five One Zero. November 1-1.

"Processor non-compliant—"

"Wait a sec." Richard interrupts, then turns to me. "Five-Ten, you're not talking. Are you trying to transmit via battlenet again? Remember, you're not connected right now, speak with your mouth."

Oh.

"Ffiive One Zeero. November One One." My voice is unfamiliar and grating to me, the pitch and intonation wobbling as I try to get the first few syllables out. I think I've managed to get my voice right by the end of it. The technician doesn't care, she just continues with the assessment.

"What is the current year?"

Not even going to ask me for the month? Their standards of functionality really are low. "2120."

"Where are we?"

"UN North America West Defense Base, 50 North."

"Where is that?"

"50° North, 115° West" I can see that's not the answer she wants.

"What province is this base in?"

How am I supposed to know that? Since when was this on the test?

Richard has moved behind her and is trying to mouth something to me. The answer? I can't tell what he's trying to say, and the technician has noticed it.

"Please do not interfere with the testing. We need to know if 510 is aware and living in the current reality. You know processors are vulnerable to dissociative disorders." She turns to Richard, chastising him.

"Five Ten is fine, she knows where and when she is. You lot don't normally ask for more than the base name, she just doesn't know. Clear us already."

"Fine." She notes down on her tablet. "Processor Five One Zero, November One One, all test results normal, no signs of psychosis, cleared." She walks away without any goodbye.

Good to know that I haven't lost my mind yet, and that they're ready to decommission me when I do. As long as I'm not a danger to them and keep doing my job, they don't care how messed up I get. Surely they know that 496 doesn't know where or when she is half the time, and they still let her go out there and kill for them.

"Let's get out of here. Time for some well deserved R&R. With any luck November won't have to deploy again too soon. Red squadron is on alert status right now, and August is available if they need back up." Richard starts walking out and gestures for me to follow, presumably we're headed back to the November barracks.

"Is November 2-All alright?" The question has been plaguing me ever since Magic refused to answer.

"Yeah, they got back fine. Easy mission, for a squad like November at least. In and out with minimal damage. A lighter enemy presence than expected, maybe the local forces were all gunning for you and Blue." He pauses. "533 is fine. I know you worry about him."

Does everyone know about that? Maybe I should stop asking for status updates every time I haven't got a visual on 2-2. I can't help worrying though, with only three of us left from Batch 15. Every death hits harder as our numbers grow smaller. I'm not sure I could take losing 533, and especially not 528. I've seen what being a sole survivor did to 496.

Richard turns back and grins, though there's something sad about it.

"The answer to the province question is Alberta by the way, Canada if they want the country."

 

[Aurora Raven]

There shouldn't need to be any additional context for this one. Chapter 1, no other content hiding in my google docs (other than the story planning doc). This is the first original work I've written, and unlike with fanfiction I can't rely on people knowing the setting so there's a lot to explain. I've tried to get as much information on the characters and the setting out in as natural of a way as I can. It was interesting trying to fit that in without it becoming obvious exposition. I'm curious to see how much of it people are able to get.

As an aside, I've written NOVEMBER so many times it doesn't look like a word anymore.