Taylor was finding out that the Abyss twist thing wasn’t by far the only thing that had changed about her. Nor was she faced with new shipgirl instincts. Wakumi, as her attendant, had offered to join Taylor in the baths and she’d almost casually accepted. Taylor was halfway naked by the time it occurred to her that this was weird. And not necessarily bad weird. This? This felt human. Taylor had politely asked her to refrain while she tried to unscrew her own brain first and slipped into the bath under a towel.

“Ryokan are traditional inns built near natural hot springs, usually with an onsen, a communal bath.”

“And that? That’s weird.”

Because when she tried that in Japanese?

“A language I’m suddenly fluent in, because that part was so normalized it almost slipped my mind.”

“Traditional inns are traditional inns build near natural hot springs, usually with a communal bath, a communal bath.” Because it sounds fine in English but it was hurting her brain in Japanese.

“Are all gaijin this stupid?” she asked the empty room.

“There! There it was again.”

She’d just…slip and suddenly be talking, thinking in Japanese, like it was normal. Like she’d done it since she was a kid. For the life of her, Taylor couldn’t figure out how this was some kind of Abyssal plot or influence. Which made it more likely to be a Shipgirl thing. Especially as more memories and knowledge just popped into her head as time passed in the baths. Slowly fixing herself, fully.

Taylor had spent twelve hours in the baths now. The clock had finally unscrambled and showed she needed another three. A quick (shouted) conversation with her attendant had revealed these were usual numbers for a heavy Princess. If she was half dead, or crippled.

“Which, okay, fair enough.”

Her arm was itching something fierce. Had been for the past two hours. But it was hard to care when an entire belief system suddenly bubbled up in her mind. It was like something from a cheesy eighties movie. “Sudden competence, out of fucking nowhere.”

Taylor had half a mind to try it. The shrine maiden costumes were amazing and she felt confident enough to pass as a Shinto priest. Except priest wasn’t the right word, but there really wasn’t a proper translation. Did she even need one?

It was weird. Nice, very nice. Surprisingly nice for the usual bundle of surprises in her new life, but: “Definitely an adjustment.”

As if summoned by that thought, the itching finally grew bad enough she just had to start scratching. It was irritating as all hell. More and more skin peeled under her nails, until the inflamed, engorged limb suddenly burst like an overripe fruit. Rather than pain, all Taylor felt was blessed relief.

“Finally I have my hands back. Terrible work environment, great health in-“

.

Taylor stared.

“Wakumi!”

The Carrier opened the door and stepped in at her shout.

“Yes Miss?” She attentively asked, eager to help.

“What?” Taylor asked flatly, waving with her monstrous tentacles. Three of them in fact. Her shoulder had sprouted a dark, metallic growth that looked almost like a piece of armor. From it, three thick tendrils hung where her stump used to be, about as long as her other arm, tipped with spearheads. No, longer. Taylor was suddenly sure that they were exactly long enough to brush against the surface of the sea as she ran. She was weaving and waving them around as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Like the knowledge. Taylor just suddenly knew how to use them. Not to say, write. But she could swim and grab things and fight. Oh she could fight.

The three closed, curling up in each other to form a wicked looking segmented spear/whip/snake thing, as thick as her thigh. The outside of each was covered in black, hard, armored scales while the inside was pale white, covered in vicious dagger teeth that perfectly fit into each other to form a solid but somehow jointed core of the limb when closed. Taylor’s new limb had many, many joints, almost like links in a chain that could snap solid and rigid at will by tensing specific muscles. She flexed her new arm a couple of times, fascinated by the interplay of the muscle, dark armor and pale flesh.

“This is me?”

“Very nice Miss.” Wakumi replied, happy and completely oblivious.

Taylor blinked several times, rearranging her reality.

“Right. Monster. As in what I am.”

A long sigh slowly deflated her, until she was back in the bath up to her chin.

Frankly, after getting over the surprise, they looked fine.4

It wasn’t that weird. Certainly not compared to some girls she’d seen. Taylor would just need to practice for a bit. Test them out. Get a bit used to them and remember that humans wouldn’t be as accepting as the girls were. She was itching to get out of this bath. Midway did not want her here. It was like a low background whine, telling her to “Get out already.”

“I’m going, I’m going.” Taylor complained.

“Miss?” Wakumi asked. Taylor nearly jumped out of her skin.

“Ok, that? That’s not okay. Attendants are one thing, but Wakumi isn’t some paid employee in the service industry to ignore. I need to keep an eye on this.”

“Nothing Wakumi. Just…adjusting to the addition.” Taylor lied.

The link flared with shame, nausea and pain even as not a trace of it appeared on her face as Wakumi left Taylor to it. The no longer crippled Taylor. She didn’t even know where to start unpacking all that. At least she had time to figure it out.

Taylor’s review notes for the day:

…

Note 4: “They were creepy as all hell, like something Bonesaw or Nilborg would make, but I suppose it’s good I can’t see them like that. Or have to relearn how to use a new limb. It would make whatever psychological issues body transformations cause much worse to deal with. Do I have any? Isn’t this a different body? This needs more attention.”

***

Octodad made his way down the ships corridors towards the brig. They were sailing out, which meant it was time to implement the next step of the protocols. Really, why couldn’t every duty come with clearly laid out rules he could follow like this one? The Wilted Lily was a considerate crewmate. He should get a gift for the Chief. Show his appreciation. If the sensor crew were getting mead rations, maybe he could arrange something for the Crane crews while he was at it.

Well, the First Mate would be glad to be rid of all the extra duties that had piled up in the meantime. He was sure the Captain could handle the backlog.

Passing through the last bulkhead let him into the detainment area.

“I DON’T HAVE A FUCKING CLOAK YOU MASSIVE…” She inhaled. “YOU! YOU SEA BISCUIT!”

After days stuck here, the Captain was running out of curses.

“Sure you don’t Captain,” the Wilted Lilly replied casually, for God knows which time, lounging in her own cot. A baby monitor was on the table next to the Chief, babbling about positional data.

“Told you we’d have company, Cap,” the smug flower cheered.

“Here to torture me with you own brand of nonsense?” The Captain huffed.

Octodad opened first one cell, than the other under the watchful eyes of a security guard.

“There we go, free to leave Captain, Chief.” His job done, he turned to leave.

“Oh hell no. You are going exactly nowhere First Mate. What in all the Abyss possessed you, you spineless worm, to side with the mutiny against me?” The Captain asked as holes tore open all around her.

After a moment, the scary growling stopped and the holes in the universe floating around the Captain trough which unnatural eyes were dissecting him retreated.

“What do you mean it wasn’t a mutiny against me? Why did I wake up in the brig then?” she asked in disbelief.

The moment he opened his mouth to respond the Captain exploded even as the Wilted Lilly watched, shaking from how hard she was holding back laughter.

“I do not have a Cloak! And even if I somehow did, which I don’t, stupid! You couldn’t mutiny against it! I run this ship, not some fucking joke!”

Octodad was trying not to laugh. Really, he was. But the Lilly looked ridiculous, her petals changing colors from how hard she was holding it in. The moment Octodad started laughing the Lily exploded as well. The holes in the world opened again and puppet wires leapt from them, freezing both in place. Octodad found himself turning under the will of another and asking:

”You think this is funny?” in a cold voice he wished he could produce himself.

The Lily was fully paralyzed and helpless and somehow still answered. The voice sounded merry, but there was a riptide of danger and death beneath it.

“It’s hilarious. It’s so funny, if I let you in on it, you might just die laughing,” she joked.

And that? That finally stopped the Captain cold. The strings snapped as the holes retreated again and the Captain fully seized up the Security Chief. Examining them from top to bottom.

“That funny, huh?” The Captain murmured, her hand going to her shoulder, feeling around for a cloak that wasn’t there. Yet when she did, her hands shook, suddenly terribly cold.

“And if I ordered you back in the Brig?”

*

“I’d be happy to go, but forced to invoke Article Five of the quarantine procedures.”

The Captain’s head tilted as she perused the ships regulations in her head.

“If the Captain should choose to remand the Chief into custody without removing her from her duties, the Captain is to personally oversee the prisoner for the duration of the stay.”

Almost admiringly she wondered: “When did you switch that?”

The Lily just smiled.

“You know damn well I can’t reassign you when the ship herself gave you that post. Is this going to keep happening?” The Captain asked, already tired of it.

“That’s not up to me,” the Lilly began. The Captain’s head dropped.

“That’s up to your Cloak. It behaves and stops mucking around with the sensor intakes and I won’t have to quarantine you Cap.” the former Sensor and Communication Chief said with relish.

No one messed with her babies. If the Lily had to usurp a whole other department on the ship to make sure her people could work in peace? Well, so be it. Never mind what headaches it caused her poor Captain.

What happened to the former Security Chief was a mystery and everyone knew it was better not to ask. Or they would suddenly find themselves not having ever existed. The Taylor Hebert’s sensor crew was known for it: Going Above and Beyond the call of Duty. And good sense. Really, if they weren’t so good at their jobs the Captain would have had them all up on charges weeks ago. Especially the new Security Chief.

“I don’t have a Cloak.” The Captain repeated, defeated.

“Sure you do Captain” The Lily hammered in yet again, cheerful, joking yet with that same undercurrent. Then had the nerve to start making some demented mix of fart, babble and burbling noises.

“As if that was real.”

“And why has my berth been moved to the Brig? You can’t expect me to sleep there.”

The nonsensical sounds didn’t stop.

“And stop talking to the Cloak!” The Captain ordered. She was sick and tired of that game back in the Brig. “It’s not any better now that I know it might not be a game. Worse actually.”

“He started it.” The Security Chief shamelessly deflected.

“Why? What did I ever do to deserve this?” The Captain plaintively asked.

“You really do need to sleep in the Brig, Captain. If you want, I’ll keep you company.” the Lilly added normally, ignoring her bemoaning her fate.

“No, that’s really not needed.” The Captain quickly rebutted. She’d had it up to here with the Lily and her antics.

They made it to the Captain’s quarters and Octodad, today’s chosen moniker, made himself scarce. The Captain did not want to be disturbed with so much work ahead of her so she dismissed the Wilted Lily. She was looking forward to seeing her rooms again after days in the Brig and finding out just what they’d been doing with Her ship.

The Captain opened the door, hoping to finally be able to leave the position at the door and just be herself for a bit. A flood of documents poured out, deep enough to reach her ankles. A quick check with the crew showed someone, no one anyone could name since he kept changing them every day, had just thrown them in the room. “They weren’t important, right?” The First Mate was in the habit of asking when The Captain had been the one doing the reports.

“You damn squid. No, you’re not even a squid, you’re a worm! Get back here Inkworm!” The entire ship rang.

Newly renamed First Mate Inkworm?

He ran.

***

Sachi had said a teary farewell to them all. Didn’t even bring up her reading lessons. Far as Taylor could tell, there was a lot of work to be done on Midway to make it even half-way functional as a village of people, instead of some kind of regimented base of walking piles of issues. Which might be a contributing factor to why Midway was trying to hurry her out. She didn’t want an “ignorant newborn” to mess with her perfect system. “What a joke.”

“Everyone has everything?” Confirmations came in over comms.

Even so, Taylor was feeling almost unchained. Liberated. Free in a way she hadn’t been since she crawled out of the lagoon. She could set sail across the horizon and never come back. Just find some out of the way place and rest a bit. Her main limitation was still not knowing so much, but soon she hoped to rectify that with a quick stop at Hawaii and a local library.

“Books!” After months of dealing with the Abyss Taylor wanted something sensible again.

“Hells, I’d settle for school work, right about now.” she laughed.

The freedom, the ability to choose? Make her own choices, plans not constrained by someone constantly looking over her shoulder? It was doing wonders for her mood.

Shun glanced at her. Taylor was learning more about [Fleet-sense] every day.

“You’re doing it again,” she softly reminded the sub girl. Shun had been suppressing her signal, again. It was a habit with her.

“Or is it all subs?”

“Sorry.” The sub apologized, the link blooming with faint, distracted embarrassment. Taylor’s eyes narrowed.

“What is she up to?”

“I’m here, I’m here!” Wakumi came running up, burdened with at least four gym bags, all reinforced with woven steel chains and plates. She was making a nasty, screeching racket as she ran. The carrier poured bittersweet happiness into what Taylor was starting to call the fleet’s common pool. A shallow lake of emotions that wasn’t strictly any one ships. Or strictly real yet still there, something anyone in the fleet could touch with [Fleet-sense]. Behind her a gaggle of girls looked on. They looked like they wanted to tear Taylor’s head off for taking Wakumi. 7

They were not the only group come to see them off, as Montana and Riptide watched from shore, surrounded by their own girls.

“I’m not late, am I Miss?” The Carrier asked.

“No. But aren’t you going to stow that?” Taylor asked her.

The Carrier flushed. “I never learned that trick.”

At an inquiring look she added, quietly embarrassed: “We usually have support when moving. Freighters to carry whatever is needed.”

Shame and worry poured into the pool: “Not that I’m asking you to do it Miss, I would never-“

That’s as far as that silliness got before Taylor’s cranes moved and started picking the bags off, one by one. Moving them into her containers. She detailed one for each of the girls personal stuff while she was at it.

“Anyone else have something they’d want to bring but refrained because no other freighter is along for the ride?” she asked.

The communal outpouring of embarrassment was expected. The river of gratitude tinged with awe and just hints of genuine, almost familial love was not and had Taylor leaking embarrassment as well. She kept the discomfort to herself. Years of pushing her emotions around coming in useful, yet again.

“It’s not a big deal.” she insisted, looking away. She’d gotten a handle on dealing with people over her years as a Ward, grown up. But having everyone’s emotions right there was surprisingly intimate. A part of her just wanted to shut it off. Taylor was trying, but she barely knew these people, even if some had wormed their way into her heart. Another wondered if this is what Gallant’s everyday life used to be like.

Wakumi stuck around, but Shun quietly skulked off and fourth went away as well. Taylor wanted to start drilling the Carrier with all her questions but maybe that was the problem. This was the first day of her new life.

Was that how she wanted to start it?

“Probably best to face the issue, as the professionals say.”

She took a deep breath. Making new friends was never her strong suit.

She looked for a way to start and settled on a simple one.

“So what’s your favorite color and why?” Taylor asked Wakumi.

And if the following discussion was filled with entirely too many added “Miss” and unsure hesitance?

It was a start. “Only real cure to not knowing people is to get to know them.”

Note 7: No that wasn’t the Abyss taking. They were really not happy with their leader going. Thinking about it, I think they believed I was going to punish Wakumi for everything they’d done. Whatever Wakumi had told them, they figured she was just putting a brave face on for them. It seems like the kind of thing Abyssals would assume. Or what another… *sigh* Princess. You’re a Princess Taylor. Accept it. That is never not going to sounds silly: Princess Taylor. What another Princess would do. Not sure what to do about it except bring Wakumi back for visits.

***

“They’re pests that get their beaks stuck in everything, get covered in oil, and then come crying to us about it.” Wakumi was insisting.

“No, they are beautiful. A sign you’re finally near land and the homeport is within sight. I love hearing their cries. Even when I’m away on deep raids they remind me of home.” Shun argued.

They were talking about seagulls. For all that they were skating over the surface of the sea, the more they spoke the less Taylor saw ships.

“Where the hell were you launched that those flying menaces remind you of home?” Wakumi asked, a bit irritated.

“None of your business,” Shun quashed that line of questioning.

It was alright? The two had very different world views and very different fleet roles and lives, but they were idly bickering, not seriously arguing. Probably because they could feel how amused Taylor was just watching them talk.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of the ones feeding them. They’ll follow you home, you know?” Wakumi warned.

“That is the idea, yes.” Shun answered factually, as if it was obvious.

“Damn it. No wonder, you’re a sub. You don’t have to clean up after them. I don’t want birdshit all over my new home.” Wakumi protested.

She stuttered in motion at that thought. “Where are we going?” she asked as they crossed the line over the edge of Midway’s true territory. The Princess wasn’t just a girl, or a building or a dock. She was the whole island, seafloor included. That was just a bit scary.

“Hawaii” the fourth answered.

“Nice.” Wakumi grinned. “Haven’t been back there since my last break. I’d love to see what new stuff there is.”

Before Taylor could get into it, she felt someone whistling on her bridge. The Wilted Lily was there, entering from below deck. Finally back and that meant… Taylor’s eyes slowly glanced around the room, careful not to go near the center, or where she felt any resistance. The Lily gave a merry grin at being reunited with her baby, which promptly buried itself back in the planter and went to sleep.

“Good.”

Taylor could feel out the edges of the effect. As long as she didn’t push too hard, she wouldn’t lose her train of thought or her memories of trying to look. That had been a nasty shock to find out from the journal.

Her Captain was there, even if she couldn’t see her. And because Taylor was looking for it, she felt it. Her brain unwound. It wasn’t like a filter, or a master effect. What it was, was hard to describe. But she ran a bit taller, faster, better. And a clue-by-four struck her in the face.

“So that’s mid to long term planning severally hampered with The Captain off the bridge. Bad, but not as bad as it could have been.”

All her Black Market contacts? Taylor had done nothing to prepare them for the move. Or really used them at all during this. Which was really obviously something she should have done, if only to figure out more about the Court, the various players and how it all worked before the session. Or at least make sure she could still access them from her new temporary base. That was a lot of potential resources, power and influence to carelessly throw away. And she'd just missed it, caught up in her current worries. Then another clue struck her.

Taylor leveled a suspicious but relieved glare at Shun. “What have you been up to all this time?” she demanded, faux harshly.

The sub was the very picture of innocence.

“Made sure everything was in place and we had all we needed to remain players in the underground market?” she replied, radiating smug satisfaction.

“Woken up, have you?” Shun cheekily added while Taylor was trying to figure out if she should praise her initiative or chew her out for hiding it first.

“It’s not fair to take advantage of a blind person, you know.” Taylor grumbled, lifting the veil from her eyes, seeing the blue skies again with her own eyes. The warm sun. Feeling the winds of the Pacific on her unbound face as they sailed. If the Lily was on the bridge, she didn’t absolutely need it. The Security Chief would whistle if she noticed something was off.

“But that’s wrong!” the former Escort Leader protested. “Wakumi, straitlaced? Oh, her and Shun the smuggling submarine were going to get on like a house on fire”, Taylor could tell.

She left that whole subject for later.

“They didn’t give you any trouble?” The smaller players could get awfully skittish about their pieces of the pie.

“I have a real Princess backing me.” Shun answered, her tone implying Taylor was being slow again.

Taylor wasn’t sure if she should deal with the insolence. Parts of her were demanding she make her ship show proper respect to command. Or she could encourage it. It was hard to know what the right choice was with so many blank spaces on the roadmap. It felt like she’d be setting some kind of example for future ships.

Yet as she recovered her full faculties, another thing had her shutting down her engines and slowly drifting to a stop. Turning back to the distant island they’d left with a frown. Because Shun wasn’t her first connection. The sub-girl was her first Fleet member, but not her first friend. And even when she’d reached inside herself to shear everything off, two lines had remained untouched because they hadn't been in her fleet, but something more.

Buried under everything as the first friends Taylor had connected to in her new life. Not Fleet but something else. Invisible under all the muck that used to cover them and the wreckage after. Even as they spent every moment they could comforting her.

She was leaving them behind.

For the first time, that really hurt, because Taylor wasn’t sure if and when she’d be back this time.