As evening fell Taylor found herself at sea in her rigging. She wore her mask of a bigger, dumber Wa-Class freighter. Big Bertha, the Uwi-Class container ship. A hard worker but don’t expect much from her, she’s slow. The longer she could keep that mask, the safer she was. Taylor was near the back but with radar she could see just fine. That it kept her both far from the Princess and shielded from her view was a bonus.

Shinigami, the Ta-class Battleship was sailing in a circle, Midway behind her on the horizon. On the other side of the circle puffing along was a Ne-Class Heavy Cruiser. A battleship fighting a cruiser was a mismatch. But Shinigami was a fast battleship, skimping on her armor to give her quick feet, while the Ne was as armored as a cruiser could be. The circle they were making was small, both able to see each other with optics. Shinigami had graciously allowed her to start in range of her 8 inch cannons. Close enough that the threat of a torpedo strike was real.

What the duel was about had escaped Taylor, she’d been too busy with the logistics snarl and recovering. But nearly every warship on that sea knew. East and West were clashing again and the plotting and sabotage had gotten bad enough that Midway’s build plans got disrupted. The ability to replace an entire convoy with one ship wasn’t priceless, but it would un-snarl multiple logistic bottlenecks for the winner. So Asia or America?

They were settling who owned new girl right here, right now. Representatives had been picked. Ships present and high enough to be in their leader’s confidence, but not so large that the repair bill would be ruinous. She wasn’t worth re-summoning either of the champions. So they were to fight to surrender or until Midway called it. And she would call it before it was cheaper to just scrap the loser.

For Taylor? This would be the first time seeing the Abyss go at it and mean it. A formal duel was a great chance to watch and learn how it’s meant to be done, “So pay attention everyone” Sapphire finished, addressing the rest of the Division. Taylor’s presence close enough to listen in was in part incidental. If they had to give up their prize it was best to have her at hand. That it also served to ensure no sore losers took a potshot at her was convenient. Bets were circulating and Taylor tried to pick up threads. Shinigami was favored, if she could avoid a direct torpedo hit. But the jargon for why she was a favorite seemed to slide in one ear and right out the other.

Midway fired her flare and they tried to kill each other.

***

It started slow, almost lazily. Smoke belched from both ships, pillars of it reaching for their opponent as they maneuvered for position and scout seaplanes took off. Ranging shots threw up plumes, but there were no hits in the first volley. Taylor struggled to understand. Naval warfare was a foreign dance to her. The more she watched, the more she learned that to figure out what was going on, it was better to keep one eye on the fight and the other her Division and their chatter. Those she could read, at least.

Smoke screens were laid down and after a few passes and some positional trickery the Cruiser won the air duel. Which meant that with all that smoke in the field, the Ne had an information advantage. That at least was common to fights on land and sea. Each had been hit a few times by now.

Shinigami had taken six shells and dealt out two in return, including the last volley. One that proved significantly more accurate than their prior exchanges, bracketing the Battleship. Shinigami remained blank faced, brushing away soot with her fingers and stopped dancing around. She turned right at the Ne and her bow almost jumped out of the sea as she went to flank speed. The Ne was waiting for it. Actually slowing down for a moment, she aimed every gun she had right at the blatant challenge presented, before unleashing a full broadside right into the battleship’s teeth.

The sea was foaming from the ships and smoke drastically reduced visibility, but something about the scene drew Taylor’s eyes as a magnet, as senses beyond the real felt a pulse. Shinigami’s face twisted in disgust as she scoffed at the shells bearing down on her in regal disdain. The eight inchers were beneath her.

{Armor of Scorn}

echoed the world. A bubble of hardened air engulfed her just before every shell hit, the resulting blast swallowing the battleship whole. A testament to her opponent’s accuracy. She emerged from the smoke with her armor a mess, but not one had found a turret or managed to penetrate her armor. Slowed by the barrier, they’d torn away at her plating but failed to actually hurt her. In the moment of hesitation her unbloodied appearance caused she spoke as if she was enjoying a stroll in warm rain: “I warned you you’d not spill a drop of my blood.”

Shinigami’s bow armor belt was a mess, pitted and scared. Another volley like that would bleed her, yet all her turrets were still up. Each one was aiming at the Ne that had slowed down to get her perfect shot. Fire exploded into the sky. The Ne franticly turned but there just wasn’t enough range. Twin fireballs marked the 16 inch hits, shattering her bow turret yet misfortune struck. The duel was already done but one of the two 12.5s found a crack one of the previous hits left and blew just below the Ne’s aft deck. It took the aft turret in an ammo explosion and butchered her engines and crew. The Ne had to be towed home, limping into the repair baths to regrow her foot below the knee.

***

Taylor was left to digest the battle as everyone made preparations. She received her orders and for the first time stood on the other side of the docks she regularly served as they started loading her up for her visit to Acapulco. She was going to Mexico. As part of her preparations she’d managed to slip away before the loading started and steal an hour with Shun going over their plans and leaving instruction.

Taylor still needed time to pump that girl for news and facts of her new world, but some things stood out enough to go for them already. She just hoped that trusting her with Itchy and Scratch wasn’t a mistake. They weren’t quite clever enough that Shun couldn’t turn on her without them noticing and the sub needed some support with her if she was going to go trading among the minnows with her stolen goods. They needed to prepare if they were going to stand a chance of breaking away.

Taylor was still a bit stunned that the repair ships were willing to sell weapons and components on the black market. Not everything, not any of the good stuff, but there were a few warehouses that were still used to supply distant or unimportant regions, where even crap that was obsolete on Midway was in high demand since they couldn’t afford the good stuff. Taylor had believed she’d need to steal plans for the gear the Abyss used and that caper was still very much in the planning stages. But at least the basics from the start of the war were in circulation on the black market.

It seemed everyone knew that everyone had them, so why not sell them to those stupid enough to pay for old designs? There wasn’t much floating around there, but every little bit helped.

***

As she waited outside the atoll Taylor absently ran her fingers over her cargo, checking that everything was stowed away properly. Her skirts were up, everything tied down but her mind was away. With her gloves on, she looked fine, even if shorn an arm, but she knew better. Her missing fingers had regrown, if not fully, but they’d come back slightly off. Thinner, weaker, she was missing something to do them properly. That same feel that she could live like this, but that something was still terribly wrong with her diet.

Taylor had thought that once she started eating well, things would get better and they had. The fires burning her from within had dimmed. But they never fully went away and she still felt hollowed out. Like arm, it was missing, but more than just her arm. It was an itch that wouldn’t go away, but she could live with it. She just hoped that whatever it was wouldn’t fuck her over once she was on the open ocean. Not like she could trust any of her Division sisters to talk about it. She had no desire to reveal anything she didn’t have to.

As her flag and escorts came out she allowed herself to done a goofy smile. Empty and airheaded. Sapphire was just amused but most of the rest of the division cooed at her as her Imps ran up and hugged her. She received several “playful” pushes that would have bowled her right over if she didn’t out-mass them significantly. Loading Bruce, Judy and Bentley on a part of her deck cleared for them was bit surreal, as the imps disappeared down her skirts but no one made any crude jokes. The same odd innocence that permeated the Abyss girls rearing its head again.

At least she’d been allowed to bring some of her pets along. They’d even serve a practical purpose, which is how it was sold to command. An off-hand question to one of the lights how “You can slip in close enough to hug, but what about the big sisters? It takes me ages to stop and I don’t want to make them mad.” as she half hid behind her shawl did the trick. Any opportunity to fob off responsibilities to another was something most Abyssals would jump at.

Frankly, now that she was supposed to sail to Acapulco, direct, she understood it. Once she was ready to set sail, they’d handed over some naval maps for her, since apparently she didn’t have any. Which was another clue to a theory Taylor had. One with unfortunate implications and mounting evidence.

The trip was almost 5,000 miles just one way. Even assuming she could travel at her unladen speed, 24 knots was about 27.6 miles per hour. Sailing day and night and assuming no storm threw them off course it would still take them over seven and a half days to get there. No breaks, no stops. She too would want to laze around in port after something like that. Taylor just hoped the duty crew schedules she’d made worked, or she was about to have a truly miserable trip.

***

Sapphire was ready to blow this joint. The duel had ended well and they’d tweaked their noses nicely. That would keep them off their backs for at least a week or two, so she could take the time to join this trip to re-negotiate some trade with the Supply Princess personally. Orders were orders. She checked her convoy and gave the order to move out. Only to see Big Bertha only now start laying her anchor and hammer lines into the shoals.

Saph knew this was her maiden voyage, but that was just stupid. Sometimes she wondered if Bertha ever made it out of her berth in her first life, or if she was here with them because someone had scrapped her before she got a taste of the sea. The girl was just bad at being a ship. Luckily, it was really hard to fuck up just sailing from point A to B which was the only thing Bertha would have to concern her slowpoke head with. Still, it wouldn’t do to let her get away with leaving her flag waiting and wasting everyone’s time without some corrective measures.

So Saph sailed up next to her, keeping a careful eye on the shoals not to beach herself, before calmly starting to tap her foot. She’d seen a teacher do it on the TV and was remarkably effective on ships with confidence issue like Bertha. On cue, the puff-ball blushed all the way to her eyebrows.

“I trust you’ll do better next time Bertha?” ” she reproached.

Bertha looked away, hiding her shame and mumbled an affirmative. It was cute how she was pretending to be stupid and shy. That was no oil off her plate, so she let it be. Watching which girls noticed and which ones didn’t was informative in its own way. Still, Bertha wasn’t stupid, that much was clear. But her education was clearly spotty. Still, she shouldn’t expect anything but a sheltered life from a civilian. Hopefully she wouldn’t panic when the shells started flying, or this whole thing could turn expensive fast. Saph would have to really lay the hurt on her.

If Bertha was prone to panic, it was better that she was more afraid of what Sapphire would do to her, than the enemy. Though she didn’t think it likely. However sheltered and no matter her struggles, Big Bertha had kept chugging along. It was more likely she’d get blindsided by something obvious, than repeat a mistake. Now Sapphire just needed to make sure whatever pratfall Big Bertha stumbled into next didn’t reflect poorly on her.

Oh god, she still hadn’t begun to accelerate.

***

By the time dawn rose the next day some things were apparent. Their charge might have ran 24 knots unladen, but fully loaded she couldn’t run more than 19 and a half. And she accelerated like a rock and her turning somehow got even worse.

At this rate, it would take them more than nine days to reach Acapulco. But hey, it was still faster than escorting Wa’s. The warships still felt like they were dragging their feet, but that was convoy duty for you. At least now they only had one helpless, stupid fat target to protect. Much easier to cover then a full convoy, but far worse consequences if they let her sink. They’d lose the whole cargo, not just part of it. It was a tradeoff, one their superiors were hoping to work out in their favor. Only practice would tell if it was worth it.

But hey, at least they had a cook along for the ride this time, right?