Freddy felt that this investigation had not started well. Shinigami had given a fairly thorough report, if distorted in her usual way. A short stop by The Empress helped confirm Freddy was reading it right, but the long and the short of it was that Shinigami had treated Taylor as any new ship in her fleet. Even if she didn’t know the real reason why new girls were to be beat down and starved for the first week, the battleship had done her job.

Taylor’s difficulties complicated things, but considering what had happened, it didn’t matter anymore. No Princess was an empty shell. So from the start, even the first week of starvation wasn’t necessary, let alone the months of denying her Bauxite. Freddy hadn’t even needed to seek out Sapphire. The workaholic had already sent a written report to fleet command. Which, seeing how most of Taylor’s efforts under Sapphire were on and around Midway, or to the West, went straight to Midway herself.

That was the first anchor sinking her case. Midway had read that report, and ignored it. The Empress could be excused for missing something her subordinates had kept from her. The other Princess had no such excuse.

The second anchor dragging her down had come from a conversation with the Ra-Class Repair Ship that had been Taylor’s overseer for harbor work.

***

“I would not seek to presume, Milady.”

“I’m here asking you on Court matters, Kaede. Presume away.” Freddy pressed.

Normally, she’d at least try to get the girl to call her Freddy, but the Court would rain hell on her if she tried that on official business. Well, on Kaede, anyway.

“You recall a slight mistake in the shipping plans? One that caused considerable overwork at the docks?” the repair ship asked, refusing to look her in the eyes.

But Freddy knew the Ra for years now, she could tell. The little minx was enjoying some spiteful satisfaction. Possibly because said overwork included her. Tough luck, warships had to be on duty for days and weeks at a time, keeping the perpetually docked girls on their toes was just good practice for emergencies.

And Midway was being a brat again and demanding perfect paperwork. English was not Freddy’s native tongue. She was perfectly fine at speaking, but spelling remained a pain in her ass. German had some reading exceptions. Most letters were still read the same way, wherever they were. English was an exception. So maybe she delayed a few shipments and rolled them up in a convoy to ensure the safety of everyone. Wasn’t her fault that wrecked the Perfect Princess’s perfect logistics. Maybe if they were less perfect, there’d be more flexibility to them.

“I trust that this is going somewhere?” Freddy reposted. Because she was not reporting their little games to the Court if she didn’t have to.

“The Miss crashed hard. She’d always been unusually quick, but she’d tire fast as well. A single shift nearly red-lined her. The Princess didn’t believe her. She enforced discipline on her.” Kaede relayed.

“What was it?” Freddy asked, because the more she looked the worse this got.

“She took four fingers.” the overseer answered.

***

Because no matter how hard Midway protested that it was about recycling and efficiency, it was a known fact at Court that Harbors that regularly decommissioned ships could get a taste for it. Get more personally involved. Midway had set that example herself. But there was no way in hell she hadn’t noticed that she got Bauxite out of those fingers. And not in traces. So that was proof the second that Midway would be footing the bill for this mess.

Freddy had yet to find a good time to link with the on duty Ritualist competent enough to inspect Midway’s claims that it was impossible for her sensors to miss a Princess emerging. But no matter the result, it should not have mattered. If not for the fact that her star witness and the main member of Court harmed wasn’t shunning Freddy. Their first meeting had been bad. Bristling, hostile from the start. Freddy was pretty sure it wasn’t anything she did. Freddy had never met the woman. Worse, it was like Taylor was actively trying to undermine her, when she wasn’t holding herself back from attacking her. Which was making this far harder than it needed to be.

It was chilling, being in arm’s length of the Young Lady, knowing what she could do up close. Freddy would turn her to floating junk at range, but a Carrier was poorly suited to face to face combat on land. Something that Taylor had proven herself uncommonly capable off. Speaking of.

Freddy’s eyes narrowed.

“A new look, Young Lady?” she asked the wandering ship.

The woman was out of her rigging, but that wasn’t what drew the eye. A web of dark blue fibers was laid over her face, like a sparse veil. It looked like Taylor had hastily patched it from fishing webs. Upon hearing her voice, she stopped in place and reached up, untying a heavier scarf from her head. Then retying it as a blindfold. She turned away from her, standing sideways and retreated when Freddy tried to get close enough to speak easily.

This was getting a bit crazy. The off behavior, not this particular one, but the feel off it? It was familiar.

“I’m sorry.” Her witness said.

“Both for yesterday and… this.” Taylor vaguely explained, waving an arm in front of her covered face. Freddy took another step forward and watched Taylor take the exact same step away. No fear, no confusion, no stepping on rocks or roots.

“I see. Are you well?” Freddy carefully asked. If this was related to Taylor’s difficulties, then she might be able to help. She wasn’t the first girl to come out wrong, though it was very rare. Freddy had to look it up. If it was about her twist, Freddy was sailing through a minefield. Wonderful.

“Most of the time. Right now? I’m trying to manage It.” She answered.

So probably the twist. Probably. Best not to linger in dangerous waters. Freddy gave her an easy smile, but was unsure if Taylor could actually see it, so she put some pep in her voice.

“Well, I’m glad you’re doing batter. If we got off on the wrong course, I hope we can right that rudder today. What can you tell me about your early days?”

Taylor scowled before stilling. She was talking to herself, quietly, but every Carrier had sharp senses. A Princess more so.

“Not mocking me. Not trying to make me feel weak and exposed. Have some fucking faith in the plan, Taylor.” she encouraged herself.

It took a minute, but the scowl ended. Slowly, Taylor walked to the waterline until her feet were in the surf, her blindfolded eyes raised to the sky. The smile was slow in coming, but a vicious thing, two rows of dagger teeth. Sharp and jagged, meant to rip and tear.

“Where do I start?” The shark asked, smelling blood.

In that moment, understanding what she was seeing? Freddy felt so proud.

A Princess could do it. But fighting your twist was never easy.

***

“It’s sunlight.”

“More sleep.”

“Control, duh.”

“Power, obviously.”

“I think everyone here is missing the obvious. New girl is flat as a runway. She took one look at Freddy and knew she was defeated. I’ll bet thirty thousand tons of Oil it’s jealousy! Just look at Midway!” the Princess in question crowed.

“Ladies, Misses, Princesses and Hime-sama’s, let’s all please remember that this is the submission phase. Everyone can suggest what they think Taylor’s twist is first. Betting comes after.” Freddy grinned, to which many giggled.

Court was alright. The usual. It’s just that this time it was being held in Freddy’s head and hosting always gave her a nasty migraine. She hated it, the damn thing would stick around for days. Had to be done, but Freddy didn’t have to like doing it. Even if she could fake it well. It was Court.

“I’ll add them to the board. Anyone else?” Soft murmurs filled the summoned room, with occasional shouts making new suggestions.

“Now, everyone can place your bets. Those actually interested, we’re over here.” Freddy said, leading them to a round table in the back with plenty of snacks.

Another Princess took over the spotlight. The Caribbean announced:

“The snack table is now open. Come on you little piranhas.”

“Refuge, come on! Make with the music maestro!”

They left them to the party. There weren’t many women here, but all of them were important at Court. There were Princesses and there were Princesses. Not everyone led their own Courts.

“I’ve sent everyone the details. Is there any disagreement?” Freddy asked to the opening of some violin piece.

“That depends” Raven asked, “on if the Empress will confirm what she saw?”

“I do. It was weak, newly formed and the caster was in a bad way, but that was definitely a Skill.” The Empress testified.

Looks were shared around the table.

“Well then. If Young Taylor can develop Skills, it’s apparent that she can overcome her difficulties, whatever they may be. Given aid, she should become an asset to the Court. A worthy investment, no?” Raven ruled.

Atlantic North snickered. “And getting resources out of Midway’s bunkers is like pulling oil from the seafloor. Think we can get any Bauxite off her?”

The fan made an appearance as the Empress ducked behind it. “I would not hope to speak for Midway, but you may be better served by asking the British to surrender.”

“Would you care to share how she plans to justify that? Reparations are owed” the Brazilian representative asked.

“I’d really rather not. But I don’t doubt it will be effective.” Pacific West finished.

“That’s not the topic.” Raven insisted. “If we are in agreement, then it’s time to decide just how hard we want to hit Midway. What’s Taylor’s nature, from what you’ve seen?” Raven asked.

The Empress smiled. “You know the type. They’ll push and prod, struggling to change the world until they break. I think she honestly thinks she’d do a better job than I did. Precocious little shit.” she cursed fondly to raised eyebrows.

“She’s half-way to having her own chunk of the Pacific East black market and Midway is clueless.”

She leaned back, prim and proper.

“As to her future. Well, Pacific West and East will support her. Either she fails and breaks, in which case she’ll come looking for guidance to us. Looking for another to guide her. Then she’ll make a good subordinate. Or…” The Empress said leadingly.

Everyone at the table broke out in monstrous, deadly grins.

“Or we’ll have another seat at the table that matters. Another thinking brain working against the Enemy. Fine. Back her to the hilt. Sink or sail, it’ll be her own fault. We’ve done our parts. Even if it fails, Midway will be footing the bill.” Raven concluded.

Say what you will about the First Princess of the Abyss, The Queen of the Indian Ocean, “Acid Rain” Raven.

And she was much: both great and terrible. Petty and cruel. First among Equals. One of the Six Great Ritualists.

But if there was one thing Raven had done right, it was this: She’d made the women at the table understand what it meant to be a Princess. Set the example. Raven hadn’t formed the Court system, but she supported it and was the chief enforcer. Every rumor about her past had long been snuffed out. But a few at this table were old enough to remember, to have been there when the rumors started.

They’d been alive to see it in person. To feel the oceans screaming under Raven’s Progress. Everyone here owed her for having no fear from being nuked from orbit for that route.

But a few knew that once upon a time, Raven sailed for the Enemy.

None of them would ever speak of it. There were fates far worse than death. Raven had thought up and implemented quite a few. Hard to re-summon a girl, if she wasn’t dead. Only wishing for it.

.

“Alright then” Atlantic North asked. “Anybody else got fires to put out?”

Pacific East and West smiled.

“No.” Atlantic North immediately interrupted.

“I don’t know why you keep doing this. We are not dealing with the Sub Refuge. If you want to go the arctic to freeze your ass off, you do that.” she said.

“But sister, your Scandinavian bases are so much better positioned for the effort.” Pacific West sweetly chirped.

“I am not doing it.” Atlantic North insisted, irritated.

“And stop milling it. Or I’ll pay her to see how you like waking up with the Princess of Refuge over your bed.” she muttered, shuddering. Everyone heard, of course. East and West both went blank.

“You wouldn’t dare. She’d come to Midway.” The Empress warned. That? An Accident would not cover the resulting crater. The entire table shuddered at that. Everyone except Atlantic North. She looked irritated enough to do it.

“Ban it?” Raven laconically asked. The suggestion was met with approval.

“What’s the wording?” Atlantic North asked, suspicious.

“Pacific East and West will not prod Atlantic North over her accident. Atlantic North will not cause another accident by sending Refuge after them.” The involved Princesses mulled it over, before nodding.

The Empress was a bit more formal: “Agreed.”

“Though if anyone does figure out how to put the bitch down permanently, the bounty is still available.” Raven tried. No one took the bait.

“She does provide an essential service.” The Brazilian representative insisted quietly. “Or do you want to try policing the subs yourself?” Ravens opinion on that was painted all over her face, but most of the table was not on her side in this.

“Moving on.” The P-I Border Islands representative pushed, from her seat between Indian Central and Pacific East.

“What the hell happened you two?” she asked.

“I’ve got Hainan and Hong Kong screaming at me, and you know that if China Central wasn’t busy with internal matters on Taiwan, she’d be right alongside them. Shanghai died. We barely took it the third time from those PLA and PLAN jerks. What happened?”

“China Central is a moron is what happened.” Pacific West whispered barely loud enough for the girl next to her to hear. The Empress swatted her with a chiding look. They were at Court.

“Behave.” she glared at Freddy.

The two took on stony looks.

“China Seas Central” The Empress stressed the full title, “was informed of the plans and the timetable. And approved both. So shouldn’t you be asking her that?” Pacific East asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Well China isn’t here.” Raven complained, “so you’ll do. Won’t you?” she asked with a relaxed smile. Like a parked battleship who just happened to be in gun range.

“Ah.” The Empress retreated.

“I suppose I could shed some light on the matter.” She acquiesced.

***

It wasn’t fair. She’d done everything right. And the investigation had born that out. Midway had proven beyond any doubt that if a Princess had emerged on or near her island, her sensors would have caught it. But even for her, the Perfect Princess, there were limits. Limits to her skill, knowledge. She was damn near the only serious Ritualist that had never, ever had a Ritual blow up in her face, but; she hadn’t known. Midway had barely believed it when they told her.

*

“I’m not seeing any problems.” The Court Ritualist said, looking through Freddie’s eyes. Her strained, bored eyes. Freddy was not a Ritualist and spending hours staring at Midway’s arrays? Her eyes were bleeding. And this was just the public stuff. Serves the Carrier right for doubting her.

Midway scoffed, loudly repeating her opinion of this whole thing. For the fortieth time.

“So I’m spared having to go to the back rooms.” Freddy cheered up.

“Unfortunately.” The Court Ritualist confirmed, filled with disappointment.

Petty thieves trying to steal her work.

“There.” Midway insisted, and in an instant she was in Freddie’s head.

“Nothing is wrong with any of my sensors and I did not summon her. Happy now?” she asked the gaggle of girls who thought they could catch Midway in a mistake. The entire gallery was filled with disappointment.

“You really didn’t summon her?” The Court Ritualist asked, frustrated.

“No.” Midway refuted, again. This time it finally took.

“Well then it doesn’t really leave many options. So unless someone wants to come forward and claim credit?” the investigator asked.

Refuge was visibly vibrating, trying to find her new rival. Practical jokes were her thing. Midway felt the term “deliberate and malicious sabotage” were a more accurate description of her so called hobby.

“Well. I guess a botched self-summoning is the only option left then.” the Ritualists concluded.

“You can botch a self-summoning?” a horrified voice asked, as multiple girls shuddered.

“What are you even talking about?” Midway asked, affronted with this stupid new angle. Obviously it was a plot.

“You can’t botch a summoning. Only a total incompetent would fuck up something that simple.” She reasonably pointed out. The silence that engulfed the room was almost deep enough to be actual Silence.

Midway watched in disbelief as face after face dropped in bitter, old shame. Hidden shame, brought into the open by her refusal to fail.

“Damn it. That’s the Perfect Princess for you.” A sour voice complained.

Horror and rage were boiling up in Midway. Didn’t they know? Didn’t they ever consider? You could cripple a ship by fucking up the summoning. Shell her. How could they try without being actually ready, prepared? How many empty shells that littered the Abyss were once living girls that her so called peers mutilated in their careless ignorance and incompetence before they learned enough not to repeat such simple, avoidable mistakes? Were there truly only six Ritualists worthy of the name in the entire Abyss?

*

It was the shame that did it. Convinced her. Made her believe that girls could come out wrong. Not mad, for that was an old and familiar threat. Just wrong. If you made mistakes during the summoning, it was common while the girl was still an apprentice. Mistakes happen. Midway never had any.

But no Princess had advertised her failures. Why would they? They’d delivered mercy in the safety of their ritual rooms, before most of the damage could settle and become permanent.

The same girls that often mocked her shortcomings couldn’t look her in eye when she stood before them and confidently said it wasn’t possible. Because it had never happened to her. The awe as her title as the Perfect Princess grew in so many eyes. Midway hated it. She was far from perfect, no matter how hard she tried. With two whole fleets depending on her, every failure weakened them. They killed girls. So she did her best. Delved ever deeper in magic and engineering. On most days it was enough.

This? This was beyond infuriating. And the subject of her rage wasn’t even at fault. Much. She could have said something damn it. But it had happened. Sometimes a girl, even a Princess, summoned herself. It happened. But very, very rarely, it went wrong. The Girl was the second confirmed case. The second and third suspected cases came undone before a full day had passed and the Court could prove the cause. Ferdinand was the first, but Midway was well aware Ferdinand did not want to talk about her past. Maybe this was why?

It was just two data points but Midway was working on theories. The trouble with those was that she needed to know their history and Midway knew she wasn’t good at talking to girls. She could order around with the best of them and navigate the snake pit that was Court. Allies she understood. Friends were harder. This? This smelled like a plot. Like one of the others had arranged it all to embarrass her, sabotage her work. How else had it all come ahead while she was so deep in Ritual Prep? How did The Girl evade all her Sensors but with backing?

Trouble was, she couldn’t see it. It would be easy to blame sabotage. But she just couldn’t find any. Not in any of The Girl’s work on the Ritual, not on her Sensors, nothing. No real explanation how it had occurred, except that the first time her sensors detected The Girl was anything extraordinary was less than a minute before the [Abyssal Call] went out. And that had felt like a Ritual and been muddled by the brute calling on her own Skill in the same room, before she destroyed it.

But it was something no Princess without backing would have called up on Midway’s home. It proved she was someone’s plant, nothing more.

That Girl was a Princess. That had been proven beyond doubt when she’d stepped up to the plate. Dived into the Abyss and come out ravaged, but with another. One of Midway’s, the little thief. Which meant the answer to how That Girl had appeared in her lagoon, not a Princess (even though she was, in the end) wasn’t technical. Midway had exhausted all those options, including a possible Ascension, which left only something to do with wrong summoning, an area Midway was tragically deficient in. Something she was now proud off, but was proving inconvenient. Midway wasn’t about to call up girls wrong on purpose. Even if it might be interesting. And she might learn something. Maybe help some of those other idiots with failing less often.

But probably not. Her friends would be disappointed if Midway did that, so she’d refrain. Even if it was inconvenient, Midway was a considerate friend. Well, she tried.

Midway still didn’t get it. Why The Girl had kept quiet, endured all that. Seeing what she was letting them do to her was what had decided Midway. No way would any Princess allow it. A pacifier? Sapphire should be worse than dead. It wasn’t worth the brain space to think the thought any would allow such abuse to her person, station. Yet She had.

And what saboteur would announce herself? The main reason a fourth plate had been planted and Midway had readied for the switch in the Ritual was that an unknown Princess had called down her storm in Midway’s lagoon. A contingency long planned for major rituals, should a Princess show up un-announced, but rarely used.

Even then, Midway hadn’t really believed it was The Girl. Not as a damn Princess. Some kind of unknown new class? Maybe. But not a Princess. Even if she didn’t trust her own instruments until they were so finely calibrated she could tell what that hack in Japan was doing, the idea that The Girl could hide on her very island while pretending to be a freighter was insane. She would have to completely refrain from using any of her weight and just the thought of trying to go a day without gave Midway hives.

Only one girl could have come up with a plot that convoluted and she was too busy sending her pouting letters complaining about not being in on the joke of the year. So it wasn’t Refuge. Many would like to take Midway’s position and stipend as Court Researcher but no one else would try something this convoluted just to embarrass her.

So whatever had happened, Midway trusted Ferdinand and Konoe to figure it out and protect her. As she had for years. Despite her many talents, a great admiral she was not. Let the Court levy their fines. She was Midway. She’d pay them out of the open bunkers and barely strain her cranes. As long as The Girl was gone. Whatever her blame, She was the living breathing personification of Midway’s failure. She would not suffer The Girl to walk the island an hour more than necessary. Or she might just strangle Her for the sheer stupidity and stubbornness involved.

Midway knew she was being unreasonable. Abyss, in a few weeks when the frozen liquid hell flowing through her warmed a bit her two closest friends might even convince her to reconsider. But whatever the fines, That Girl was off her island. Today.

***

The Empress watched Midway march into the relay room. It was best to do a full court meeting with a bit of support. Freddie’s headaches were bad enough without having to do the entire thing on her own. Midway gave a dismissive glance around the room and settled in to wait. Konoe knew she was gathering up steam. Though in her case it was more like reading the glaciers. Midway burned cold, not hot. Before she could fully get into her persona, The Empress let out a dainty cough behind her fan. It drew the eye and let her signal her friend before she was too deep into her preparations to wrangle the Court.

Midway took a deep breath, then spoke to the wall, careful not to look at the painful burning coal sitting in a chair in the same room with her. The Perfect Princess didn’t fail, or make mistakes. This was running roughshod all over old wounds.

“I am going to say many unkind things in next couple of hours. Try not to take them personally. I don’t mean them” Midway said snidely, before wincing.

“I will mean them, but I wouldn’t mean it once I’ve had time to recover.”

She took another deep breath and her tone evened out.

“This… You? It’s a perfect excuse for that pit of snakes to try and punish me. I won’t have it. I did nothing wrong.” Midway insisted. Konoe’s fan snapped closed. It interrupted the budding feud long enough for Midway to get it all out.

“Even if it also doesn’t seem to be entirely your fault. Maybe. It’s really hard to believe that right now.” Yet that? It wasn’t an accusation. It was pained and plaintive and Midway shook with the effort of getting it out. Taylor settled down and that would just have to be good enough because Freddy swept into the room and Court was in session.

***

“No. By every cold hell in the Abyss, NO! I am not her Port of Origin. I will not have That Girl attached to my Name.” Midway enunciated clearly, cold as the depths of the ocean.

Taylor was bearing up admirably, The Empress felt.

She spoken her piece when prompted and otherwise kept her mouth shut, no matter the provocation from the viewing gallery. The Empress knew Ferdinand would have a massive headache after this, but at least they were near the end. This session had stretched enough already.

The voices coming out of Ferdinand’s mouth echoed The Court, different girls speaking, sometimes at the same time. Not the most pleasant experience to have your speakers slaved to others.

“Come now Midway. We’ve already agreed to wave some of her fines and all of her Bauxite in lieu of the damage done to your fleets, as well as the two rogue repair baths. But surely even you must accept that she originated in your waters?” the calm voice argued.

“NO! I did not design The Girl. I did not call for aid. I did not build The Girl. I did not summon The Girl. At no point was The Girl ever invited. The Girl is a trespasser that snuck into my home to wreak havoc and The Girl should be the one paying me for all the trouble The Girl has caused! The Girl is not one of mine, and The Girl proved it by picking Exile. I want The Girl gone. Off the fucking island. End of discussion, unless one of you feels like coming over here to make me.” Midway argued, her voice glacial every time The Girl came up.

Taylor wasn’t happy with it, but kept her mouth shut.

Lightning came out of nowhere, through the ground, the bunker’s roof and hit the floor in the middle of the room. There were no holes in either, only blackened marks where it had passed. Yet in the flash of its passing, two massive feathery wings had been carved into the wall behind Ferdinand. It looked like someone had burned the shape into the wall. While in an underground, warded safe room.

“Let’s dispense with the pretenses.” Raven’s bored voice emerged from Ferdinand’s mouth.

“The Empress is not contesting her role in this and has already moved to rectify the balance of her debt. This is not in question. Your own sensor records show Taylor emerged in your lagoon, even if she came out damaged.”

“Damaged?!” Midway protested, affronted. “I don’t know what Ritual was used to mask her yet, but-“

“Damaged.” Raven said firmly.

Midway’s face was already red from the arguments but now her cheeks were swollen from how hard she was trying not to speak.

“Maybe if it was otherwise you’d have some argument but as it is? No. I can see you getting ready to blow up so let’s wrap this up. If you find the association so unacceptable, fine. But you are and you will be her homeport, for Taylor here is a lone Princess about to come into quite a windfall and she needs to spend it somewhere. Or are you incapable of meeting the needs of The Court?” Raven asked to thunder so loud it reached them down here, in the buried bunker they had gathered in for the Court meeting. The wings were weeping seawater, releasing a strong wind that made all their hair flap wildly.

“She is not staying here.” There was no give in that voice.

“Damn it Midway. Fine.” Raven bit off, fed up with her.

“But you owe her a favor for it. And you will take her work orders by radio. She can stay in Hawaii. Are we done here?” the irritated voice asked. No one spoke up.

“Fine!” Midway exploded, “But I’m not dealing with her, she can send a damn envoy.” With that, she stormed out of the room, cursing all the way.

“And you’re paying for the lunch room Empress.”

“It’s The Empress” The Empress reflexively corrected.

“Send your petty fine to my secretary!” Midway shouted back as she left.

With that, the connection broke. Ferdinand groaned, her head falling in her hands. The Empress quietly led Taylor away. Konoe caught the small document case Ferdinand threw her underhand. Outside, Kaede, the Ra-class repair ship delivered a larger sailors lock box into Taylor’s lap, explaining:

“You’ve got the exchange rates, brochures, prices for ritual, refits and ship building rates in there, as well as what equipment we have on hand or can produce. Have fun with that and someone can deliver your picks to me. Best to let Midway warm up a bit.” She said in a practiced salesman’s voice.

“What?” Taylor asked, bewildered, trying to balance two cases as The Empress pushed the document case to her as well.

“And this is your verdict and official acceptance letter into the Court of the Abyss. The Announcement will have to wait a bit, as you’re a few years out of date. We’ll have to refit you first, but don’t worry about it. Raven’s agreed to cover that.” Konoe began.

“As we’ve agreed on it and there was no objection, the debts accrued by the Escort Formation have been transferred to their lead and she’s been reassigned to you to serve out her sentence in whatever way you see fit until the debt is repaid.” She continued.

“What?”

“You do remember taking Wakumi in Taylor? Without mine permission, I might add?” she teased.

Taylor blinked, flushing. “It’s fine, I’m sure you don’t mind calling that debt even. And while I’m paying some of what the Court has assigned you, I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that you have Sapphire’s lease.”

“Her what?” Taylor asked.

“Her lease on life Young Miss. I’ll be cross with you if you waste Wakumi, or just kill her. No fates worse than death, understand? And I reserve the right to re-summon if you lose her and can’t raise Wakumi in a reasonable timeframe. But Sapphire is all yours, body and soul. Do with her as you wish.”

Taylor scowled, but there was a bit of vicious glee in her eyes. “That’s fucked up, Empress.”

“The Empress” she corrected, bopping her on the head. The scowl intensified, but her eyes softened a bit.

“I’m afraid Shinigami will be staying out of your greedy little fingers. She was mostly doing her job, you’re getting paid for it and she is a battleship. But, to loosen any misaligned screws, let me point out that Midway left you without Bauxite and you need it, if in minor amounts, for any ship. So I trust you’ll forgive me and Pacific East when I say I’ve arranged to seven thousand tons of Bauxite to your bunkers on site. And convinced Ferdinand to donate another three from her reserves. So you won’t have to do slag work for Midway. She’d probably try to get you killed.” she said with a smile, but her eyes were serious.

This would mend bridges, or they were about to have A Problem. The girl was bright enough. Taylor waved it away.

“What bunkers?” she asked.

“The ones Midway is loaning you as your homeport to keep all your treasures, you silly girl.” The Empress said with relish. She popped open the document case.

“Let’s see what the Court has assigned you:

-210 000 tons of Abyssal steel

-120 000 tons of Oil

-70 000 tons of Ammo feedstock”

Konoe put a delicate finger to her lip in appreciation.

“That’s a nifty little nest egg. Let me add our contribution:

-10 000 tons of Bauxite.“ The Empress added with a pen.

She finished, laughing delightfully at the utterly confused expression Taylor was wearing. Her hand reached out, fiddling with Taylor’s headscarf, retying the head wrap into a proper style, before she was satisfied. A wide band at the hairline for the fierce up-close fighter to keep her eyes clear and her curly hair free flowing in the back.

Wouldn’t do for the newest addition to Court to be out and about in anything but her best.

“I could always gift you something commiserate to your new station, but I suppose they’ll be another chance for more personal gifts at your Announcment.” She mused, feeling the material. Silk might be best.

Konoe let her fingers slip into Taylor’s hair while she fidgeted in place. Concealed from scrying, tapping out invisible beats.

- .... . .-. . / .- .-. . / -. --- / - . -. -.. . .-. ... / .. -. / -.-. --- ..- .-. - --..-- / -. --- -. . / .-- .... --- / .-. ..- .-.. . .-.-.-

“And that’s just ours. I’m sure other Court members will want to deliver their own welcoming gifts. One never knew where fresh blood might end up.” she finished vaguely, looking at her wistfully for a minute.

--- -. .-.. -.-- / ... . .-. ...- .- -. - ... .-.-.- / ... ..- .-. .--. .-. .. ... . / -- . / - .- -.-- .-.. --- .-. .-.-.-

“Oh to be young and unbound.” She sighed.

“Do keep in touch and drop by when you can Taylor. But for now, my fleet has been without their Empress for too long and the ocean awaits. Good luck.” Konoe said with a whimsical smile, mussing up the newest member’s hair.

***

Wakumi watched her new Miss step out of the long range comms station. She felt adrift at sea, adrift alone at sea since The Empress had cut her off. Some part of her said that now would be a great time for the Miss to start her revenge. So Wakumi would make sure she’d give Bert-Miss Taylor no reaso-no more reason to leave her here, Exiled. Lone ships were dead ships and she’d already failed Miss Taylor.

*

There really wasn’t any point putting it off anymore. After that display, even Midway would notice and her new boss had settled down in the shallows outside, wrapped in a bubble of her own Silence, deep in thought. Wakumi was clearly not invited, so she went to Midway to report and get her transfer. It didn’t go well.

“Why are you trying to sell me these fanciful tales Wakumi? Just tell me whose storm that was?” Midway insisted.

“But.” Wakumi stuttered.

“But you didn’t. You couldn’t. It was a rule.” Did she have to? This couldn’t end well.

“But it was Bertha’s storm?” Wakumi tried, hoping for conciliatory but it just came out as a whine.

“Don’t be silly. That one is not Princess. I would know.” Midway chided her.

“You do not tell Midway she is wrong to her face Wakumi.” Her Princess had ordered. Everyone knew. The Light carrier swallowed. It was hard to make it come out a statement, not a question. Her mouth was dry but she was doomed either way.

“Uh. Bertha is a Princess. And her name is Taylor. ” And that? That didn’t go well.

Every last drop of kindness leached out of Midway.

“I see. So you’ve decided to betray me. Tell me, what did they offer you to be an agent in this plot?” Midway asked in a cool tone.

Denials spilled from her lips but it was far too late.

“Someone reliable will have to be sent to watch over her. Clearly she too is an agent. If we can catch her contacting her Patron, we can have this all wrapped up today. Or you could just tell me before I get really mad.” The Princess threatened. It was hopeless.

Wakumi was dragged to the sub pens. She’d seen it happen to other girls, but having Midway drag her under the water was terrifying. A Demon or a Princess could do that, take her fleet into the Abyss below, but it was always horrible for anyone not a submarine. They were ships, meant to float, not sail the under-sea. And this time, Midway had not graced her with any of her protection.

So when Wakumi was dropped in a cramped, windowless room deep under the sea to await judgment? She was half drowned and desperately trying not to fully drown. In disbelief that any submarine could call this tiny, cold cave her home. And all too aware of submarines outside the deep pens keeping an eye out for anyone trying to escape. As well as the sea mines outside the tunnel out of her room.

Like it mattered.

Wakumi was a carrier. Her place under the stormy, open skies. She couldn’t even dive, let alone swim while diving. She spent days in that watery hell, sleepless and just trying not to think, feel, praying for the sky until they pulled her out. By then, Wakumi had lost all sense of time. It felt like it had been weeks in there, with no way but her growing Hunger to keep time by. Until one day the resurrection ritual broke over Midway and she felt Taylor dance into the Abyss, even from down below.

She was let out soon after, the last thing Midway did before crashing into bed.

*

Wakumi would not compound that failure with another, by telling her Young Miss about it. No Fleet could feud with their homeport, and it was looking like knowing about it would make Miss Taylor lose her mind. Tenders were sensitive when it came to those they considered their own. And that was the crux of it.

Wakumi wasn’t in the Fleet. She could partially felt the bond with Shun, Yo-Class submarine, as well as two others, incomplete but there. Those two worried her for the same reason. In her worse moments, Wakumi figured this was to be her punishment. To serve, but never be accepted. A lone, fleet-less ship, surrounded by others yet forever alone, apart. Outside. It was the kind of thing a Princess would think of.

Knowing all her little brats were freed from the debt didn’t seem like such a great thing now that she was out of the Fleet and holding all the debt, alone before her new Miss. She rushed forward to help Miss Taylor with the cases.

“Wakumi, why are they giving me all this? What am I supposed to do with it?” Miss Taylor asked in one of those voices the Princesses used when they knew the answer, but weren’t sure how they felt about it. Wakumi wished she’d paid more attention to how the girls in the Fleet Council were handling their Princesses moods and Twist. She wasn’t ready to be this close to one.

The Light Carrier inspected the contents of the cases and tried to answer with cheer she didn’t feel.

“So you can build your own fleet, Miss. Every Imperial has one.”

“And make me one of them? Please?”

“How am I supposed to know-how much does it even cost to-how do naval tactics even work?” Miss Taylor finally got out, after several attempts.

Wakumi felt her gut churn. Her Miss was deficient. She really hoped whoever was given the honor to help bring the Miss up to standards was good. Wakumi had no idea how to even try. “Perhaps your teacher can help?” she asked hopefully.

“What teacher?” Miss Taylor replied and the carrier felt her hopes crumble.

“And where is Shun anyway?” Miss Taylor asked.

“I’m really overdue for a talk with that sub.” Her Miss muttered.

Wakumi led her to the sleeping sub. She was on the beach, out of the water and something about that just made Wakumi want to kick her until she’d rolled the tiny girl all the way back to the surf. Subs didn’t belong, especially out of their rigging. They were weak and horribly exposed, their legs ugly as sin. Some of the meaner girls might break them.

Fortunately, having been carried in the lap of a Princess out of the True Abyss, no one had started anything. Ships that passed her were respectful. Like she was on a Council already.

“Which isn’t far from the truth, really.” Wakumi figured.

A fleet this small, everyone mattered. Except her. She succeeded in not crying. It was good. The fleet would grow, in time. There’d be space, a place for Wakumi in it, wouldn’t there? Miss Taylor wouldn’t reject her for a second time after asking her to serve. That would be… incredibly cruel and only what she deserved.

But Wakumi wouldn’t burden the Miss with it. If that was her wish, so be it. She’d endure. She had to. Shun opened lazy eyes, enjoying the rainfall. Her eyes went from Miss Taylor to Wakumi and back.

“Done with the Court?” The sub asked, not whispering but so quiet Wakumi could barely hear it. Couldn’t she speak up?

“Yes. And I have so many questions.” Miss Taylor said.

“Obviously. Lesson one, don’t miss the obvious.” Shun drawled, mischievously.

Her miss stared at the presumptuous sub, confused.

“Taylor-” Shun started.

“How dare she?” Wakumi felt outrage spark in her.

“- actually look at her you dummy. You’re not busy anymore, so pay attention.” the sub finished, her eyes glancing at Wakumi as Shun spoke.

Slowly, Miss Taylor swiveled to her, looking her up and down. Wakumi fidgeted under that haze.

“Wakumi… what’s wrong?” She asked.

One thing, Her Miss had asked of her. Not to lie. But she had to. For the Fleet.

“Nothing.” Wakumi said.

“Wakumi.” The Miss commanded. She was screwed, no way out, all over again. Doomed if you do, doomed if you don’t. Miss’s hand landed on Wakumi’s shoulder and instantly the scowl slipped off her face. A painful touch, growing soft, comforting.

Miss Taylor looked her in the eyes, worried, worried for her. Her hand was warm, almost incandescent..

“Wakumi.” She said, like her name mattered. Like it wasn’t her fault. Like everything would be ok.

“I’m here. Talk to me.” Her Princess asked her.

Lightning sparked in her shoulder, poured into her in a flood that consumed Wakumi’s whole world. For an instant, Wakumi was in a massive Graveyard, surrounded by dead, sunk ships waiting for a better day to come back to the world. Far, far above, beyond the surface, a giant lightning serpent prowled the stormy skies. Waiting for the day oblivion would consume the world and they could be reborn in a new, better tomorrow.

Wakumi woke to concerned faces and could only snivel and cry like a newborn, newly risen. What else was there? She didn’t care and embarrassment was for later. Not this, not now.

This was sacred.

They were happy tears, for Wakumi was Home. Her [Fleet-sense] singing with their concern.

“No Miss. Don’t worry about a thing. They’re happy tears. I was just being a silly ship.” Wakumi tried to reassure them.

Her Miss took on a serious tone, even as a tiny grain of mischief gleamed in her eyes. “Well, you better let me clear out any silliness early next time. I’m a bit slow, but I can figure it out when it’s pointed out to me.” Miss explained.

“No unneccesary suffering in my Fleet sailor and that’s an [Order].” Her first. Wakumi could feel her heart filling, overflowing. Ready to burst.

Then Taylor’s smile turned warm. Her voice tentative, almost shy, painfully heartfelt and vulnerable as the Miss officially said:

“Welcome. Welcome to the Fleet Wakumi. We’re happy to have you.”

All those nightmares and fears of worse case scenarios evaporated in the clear, warm hugs which engulfed the Light Carrier. Even if the sub was boney and poking her, and her Miss was flat, the hugs were the best thing Wakumi had felt in weeks.

And if anyone had a problem with that, she’d bomb them to next week. No one insulted Wakumi’s Fleet.

“I’m happy to serve.” Wakumi replied and she meant it as the bonds solidified, binding them in one goal, one purpose. One family.

Her new one. She’d miss the old one, but that was life as a shipgirl. Sailing, ever onward, beyond the horizon.

“Now” Miss Taylor said, laughing, “will you two help me with all this already. I know almost nothing about the Abyssal economy, the war, the politics of it. Where do we start? How did it even start? How much does a Cruiser cost? To build? To sail? How are they even made?” she asked.

In that moment, Wakumi realized with dread that it was now her responsibility to help fix her Miss. They were all doomed. “I’m not ready for so much responsibility!”

Oh. Wakumi had said all that out loud.

Shun was merrily laughing at her.

The Miss joined in.

It really wasn’t funny. It wasn’t.

But soon Wakumi cracked up too.

Maybe it was a little silly. But they were happy. So did it matter? Wasn’t that a win?

Wakumi decided… She’d take it.