They Came From Space

“It would be my greatest pleasure.” The German cruiser replied simply, eyes full of utter contempt for the ghastly specter whose churning, viscous fluids spilled into the open sea and stained it black with its filth. She raised her main guns as she came to a halt beside Bleikr, training all three barrels of her forward turret at the spiteful glare.  There were no other words as her guns belched their astounding report, smoke billowing forth from their rifling, holing the carrier princess twice over with 203mm armor-piercing shells. Loathing filled her thoughts as she watched the pale corpse bubble and gurgle as it sank beneath the waves, hands stiff and raised in either defiance or terror before the ocean reclaimed its lost soul.  “Let us be off. I hope none of your fighters were badly damaged in the skirmish,” Roon voiced, looking at the pink-haired sub-carrier as she began to steam forward again, heading towards her next checkpoint so many miles away.

The carrier was already retrieving her craft, anti-aircraft batteries tucking back away and SAM silos closing up.

“No significant damage, no. Only the Harriers took any real hits, and we can repair those easy enough. I swear, you spit on an F-35 and the stealth coating starting wearing off. Pizdec... No losses, and not enough ammunition - pardon me one second.” She put a finger to her ear, nodded once, twice, three times, then sighed.

Without warning, one of the hatched on the dorsal side of her rigging popped open with a massive cloud of smoke, and off streaked another SLBM, this time to the east.

“Sorry about that, had another fire mission. As I was saying, they didn’t drop nearly enough ordnance to put a dent in the stockpile, so I’m still good to go. I’ll escort you the rest of the way to the United Kingdom; I’m due for a meeting in those parts anyway.” Heaving a breath, the submarine cracked her neck.

“The supplies I have on board are sufficient enough for me to make it to the next stop towards my destination. My ammunition count is fine, though a few of my mountings will need to be repaired en route. I recently resupplied at the cape itself, so thankfully this attack occurred sooner rather than later…” Roon sighed as she directed the medium range and over gun mounts to quiet themselves, brushing a lock of hair that fell out of place during combat. Keeping up her main battery fire, she continued to use the opportunities as given to her by Bleikrfaxi’s attacks, helping quell the Abyssal assault. She remembered the reason behind her lone attempt to cross the treacherous waters. Spirit of Fire was near useless, and Grom wasn’t capable of fending off an attack of this size, even with more advanced torpedoes. Salem and Roanoke were being deployed elsewhere at the time, and Seydlitz… Seydlitz was supposedly in Britain already.

With all other theaters of war currently involved and with their closest allies unable to provide assistance other than shipments of supplies to the harbor, the situation had become dire for Roon’s home port. Another sigh escaped her lips as the smoke from her guns and the increasing number of abyssal wrecks washed over her, watching as the submarine carrier’s angels of death struck daggers into the hearts of beasts. “They had no other choice. I don’t know if they contacted you or you were listening in, Bleikrfaxi, but I am far too grateful today to care. If you still wish to escort me, I’d be interested in hearing how you came about information on my reassignment.”

Very little of the enemy force remained, the Carrier princess and her few remaining forces pulling tight, trying fruitlessly to condense their AA against the vastly superior air attacks pelting them. Another wave of Harriers launched from their carrier, bearing a heavy load of JDAMs; the battle was over.

With a feast of fire and smoke, the few ships left went up in massive explosions as the guided high-penetration munitions met their marks. All that was left was the Princess, oozing black ichor from places unimaginable and half-sunken into the sea.

The sky was ripped open, with a great, bellowing howl and a light that eclipsed the sun. It blinded her, forcing her eyes shut against the torrent of light, her ears filled with the shrieks of Abyssals both sea and air alike, their haunting, gurgling cries rolling over her in agonized waves. 

Shielding her vision, she cracked her brown orbs open to witness the sheer carnage that had come from the strange weapon, black, acrid smoke billowing around her in the wake of the destruction. The Wo-class herself had almost been completely vaporized, what was left sinking underneath the waves as swarms of unfamiliar jet aircraft buzzed overhead, immediately beginning attack runs on the remaining Abyssal craft and whatever reinforcements they were scrambling in the aftermath. 

Yuktobanian? AK-303? What kind of submarine could unleash carnage on the scale of this surprise assault, sowing chaos among the enemy fleet with one almighty bomb that outshone anything she had witnessed until this point? Still, as her fairies performed damage control and several, in fact, dropped to her side to start repairing the gaps and leaks in her armor, she nodded slowly, Roon coasting away from the battle and just far enough so that she could fire supporting salvos. 

“…Thank you for the assistance, AK-303. I am KMS Roon, first and only of her kind. It seems our intel was wrong about the cape, and I was lured here on the pretense that it was safe.” 

Her gun directors slew around and her gunners sighted in once more, now free to perform their duties with her long-range firepower. With the blistering report of her 203mm rifles, she aimed at the surface vessels she knew she could sink, providing another distraction along with the buzzing Sea Harriers overhead.

A Ri-class suddenly exploded, her port side lighting up with a massive spray of water as a torpedo from the megasub hit true. Small lines of smoke traced their ways in, followed by the jets that launched them. Pristine F-35Cs tore into the enemy fleet with gusto, dropping long-range anti-ship missiles like candy against the lighter enemy vessels. Destroyers went up like fireworks, their thin armor the perfect targets for the low-penetration munitions.

“That’s why I chose you. Sending a single cruiser, alone, from the Pacific to the Atlantic? It’s like they wanted to lose you to the waves. The pleasure’s mine, Roon; call me Bleikrfaxi. Bleikr for short, if you must.” Another huge spray of foam and fire showed another torpedo hit true, this time the Ru-class crying out in agony and fighting the flooding in her rigging.

“I realize you may not have an IFF system on-board tied to your radar. I would ask that you avoid medium to long-range anti-aircraft fire to help me minimize casualties to my air wings. Even at this scale, fighter jets are damned expensive.” A froth of bubbles gave away the submarine’s position momentarily, another SLBM breaking the surface of the water. This time, however, it simply flew off, bound direct north into the horizon.

“Impact on the starboard secondaries! 150mm down!”

“Torpedo reloading has slowed! Maintain safety of our current munitions!”

“Fire directors still functioning. Hydroacoustic search vectors are currently saturated-if you can, aim towards the muzzle flashes at this distance!”

Things weren’t going quite well for Roon. While powerful and more than capable on her own, she was dealing with an entire squadron of destroyers.

Destroyers that had been taught pack tactics, and how to deal with ships whose shells could rend them asunder.

The battle had already gone on for half an hour already, and the constant peppering of shells was starting to wear on her patience. A vein throbbed in her forehead, and it was taking every ounce of control that she had to keep her ‘break’ from rushing in and potentially getting herself sunk. Her right hand was gripped so tightly that she thought it would bleed through the gauntlet as she swung around her Anton turret, directing her frustrations towards a flash of gunfire hidden in the smoke.

A great belch erupted from her 203mm rifles and three shells stabbed into the smoke, searching and teething for a target. This time, Roon would be blessed with a howl and the sound of rending metal, black ichor leaking into the sea. The reprieve would be short lived however as 5-inch shells raked the back of her superstructure, her Bruno and Caesar turrets rolling around to bark return fire. Before she could focus on her next target, her hydrophone operators reported in frantic tones-

“Torpedoes off our port! Three fish in the water!”

Hauling herself around with a hard turn to port to face the incoming torpedoes and her boilers churning as she commanded her throttle to full speed, Roon was left open on her starboard flank, eating a couple more shells that managed to hit where her armor was weakest. She stumbled with seething fury spilling from clenched teeth, oil leaking out of her wound as she struggled to keep her berserker side under control.

“Lookout! What about aircraft?!” “Negative on sightings! The smoke is too thick still, we lost them as soon as the screen was deployed!”

“Damn it all…” Roon spat, steadying herself for another assault. “Ready the AA guns! Keep the crew on high alert!”

“Aye-aye, ma’am!”

Half a nail-biting hour later, the submarine decided she had waited long enough. Already more contacts were showing up on sonar, within the thirty kilometer range. With their largest batteries now in firing range, the smoke began to clear, the destroyers scattering to the four winds in time for a harrowing sight.

The sea was black with the hulls of Abyssal ships. Towards the rear of the fleet appeared to be some make of Carrier Princess, much larger than a Wo, leading the battlegroup. If one had to guess, a Princess just got booted from her home and was hoping to recoup the loss with a very nice heavy cruiser. A fleet of strike craft, barely audible over the din of short-range combat, closed in on the isolated cruiser, ready for the kill. The batteries of a Ru-class battleship barked in the rear, her massive shells streaking in, a mess of 5 cruisers and a dozen destroyers all turning their batteries to face their sole target.

To Roon’s rear, a different sound rapidly approached. Overhead a pinprick of light flashed, then grew, then became almost blinding. A sudden explosion at about 5,000 feet sent streaks of light across the battlefield, culminating in a chorus of secondary explosions. The Abyssal strike craft burst into flames, all but a handful screeching in agony as they plummeted from the sky. Shrieks and cries of pain and surprise washed over the Abyssal fleet, numerous ships falling victim to the surprise SLBM strike. Jet engines roared overhead as four wings of fairy-sized Sea Harriers flew past, already burning to engage with the reinforcement craft launched by the Abyssal carrier force, now shy one Wo-class. Roon’s radar would pick up another three squadrons on the way from the same vector. 

Over the radio, a strange, Slavic voice introduced herself.

“You are being transferred to the Atlantic theatre. Normally, we’d send you through the Suez Canal and said trip would be fairly uneventful. However, this a world where you exist, and where your sunken counterparts have swarmed the sea. No one can spare an escort for you right now, not enough to keep you safe through those waters. For how much power you might have, we’re sending you through a safer route: around the Southern Horn of Africa, and up the western coast. Reports say that Abyssal activity is low, but make no mistake: do not pursue enemy forces. Fight only if you have to. We can’t afford to lose you.”

A solemn nod, and a salute with an armored hand. “Yes, sir.” 

- - - - - - - - - - - 

Somewhere off the Cape of Good Hope, Southern Africa 

 The waves kicked around Roon’s armored legs, the bulwarks of her rigging bracing her against the spray of the ocean as she surged forward across the sea. Thanks to the superhuman endurance and capabilities of a shipgirl’s construction, sailing at her top, safe cruising speed was relatively easy with nothing else to focus on. Her radar and lookouts were diligent as they scanned the horizon, fairies mingling among themselves to deliver reports to their shipgirl host. 

So far, the sea had been quiet, and it was better than she could ask for. Though part of her mind itched for combat, to feel steel and iron buckle underneath her armored hands, Roon knew it was much better for the trip to be mundane; any sign of trouble would meant time wasted, and a higher chance that she’d be ambushed by greater Abyssal forces. She had been making good time away from the Cape of Good Hope, having stopped by to top off at a local port and ensure that she ate something before continuing on the next leg of her journey.  Unfortunately, all that would change as the seas grew rougher and the sky darkened…

“Crew to battle stations. our friend looks capable, but may be wandering into far more than she can handle.” Ready to jump in if need be, the mystery ship vented ballast, starting the climb to the surface. She wouldn’t breach yet, but just in case.

Meanwhile the Abyssal destroyers began to spread out. A couple fired their 5-inch gun batteries, but this was a distraction. The rest were surrounding the isolated cruiser and deploying a deep grey smokescreen. At the horizon, already visible were a couple of wings of small, toothy Abyssal strike craft, quickly obscured by the growing smoke. Soon, all Roon could see around her would be about a kilometer square of roiling, empty seas, five inch shells piercing the veil from seemingly random locations at seemingly random intervals.

“How I caught you… ah you are very curious, but I am shy.” Habakkuk squirmed a little, her friend squished to her chest, wiggling a bit as if she was about to confess something. “I am big reach big carrier of course, but I am very strange like. Like big abyssal Re? Very strange need lots of room.”

“So hehe, don’t tell anyone okay Blexi? I am nervous, but you are good friend, I will show.” Habakkuk spun the other around to face away from her, hugging her stuff, the carrier’s boobs on their head. Letting them glance forward as from the water emerged something. It was curved from the left, as if it was coming from behind Habakkuk.

A large tail, a little rounded at the end with odd markings that almost looked like the curve of a mouth. Though it wasn’t like it opened in front of the girl or anything, it merely showed itself and curled up to brush against the sub’s face. “See see!”

“I have a tail! Gah I’m so embarrassed, my best friend is seeing this private since. I am anxious, is it okay friend? Its not strange is it~” She asked, squeezing her friend lovingly, her tail sliding up to poke at their head.

Oof! The submarine squeaked as she was held tight like a stuffed animal, then froze, startled by the sheer oddity of the tail. It came closer, and closer, then brushed against her face, slick and cold and wet.

“That’s... incredible. I have so many questions, but that is certainly just... an incredible thing.” Shakily, she reached out with a hand and brushed down its side, simply awestruck.

Her betters we’re speaking — Agincourt stayed silent, even after the list of spaceships appeared before her eyes. The names were familiar, but she wasn’t expecting them to be ships resurrected for space. There was a destroyer escort Edsall out there, too.

“The odds against us just got a whole lot better, Everest,” the destroyer said — leaving the pet name in the past for now, what with another shipgirl here, it was time to be professional. “Twenty-five ships,” she said, and then awkwardly motioned at Seventeen. “And… uh, you. You… are on our side, right?”

Everest nodded, things already forming in her head. As a response, Seventeen merely looked at Agincourt, her glowing eyes piercing into the destroyer’s own. Somehow, that felt like an affirmation.

“Twenty-seven, counting Volokolamsk as well, dear. With a working MAC she would be downright upset if I didn’t call on her.” Looking back over to the two across from her, she nodded a couple more times.

“Right, then. Yamato, send me the current coordinates of the First Fleet and I will meet there with you shortly, to evaluate and talk shop. I’m looking forward to it.” Glancing to Seventeen, her smile faded.

“And you can piss off to whatever it is you do when I’m not around. Your gift is appreciated and your prowess in combat will be tested, but I still don’t like looking at you.” With a smirk, Seventeen waved, fading into the void of space itself.

Apparently she was done here too.

After some time, SEKHMET relayed to Ev that the coordinates were received.

“Very well. It was a pleasure meeting the both of you, Everest; Agincourt. I shall return to inform the First Fleet of the situation.”

“Works for me. I gotta bring this one home anyway. I’ll meet you at the coordinates in a couple of hours, then.” Yamato nodded, turning away from the pair of UNSC ships. A golden disc similar to the one she arrived through opened in front of her, and into it she vanished.

Breathing a sigh a relief, Ev turned to look at Agincourt.

“Ah friend!” Indeed Haba was all confident but she didn’t expect her friend to keep slipping, she was sure she had clear some space for her not to slip but all the fumbling must of moved her. Haba would be slightly too slow to catch her like the phone, but as she barely hit the water, something else would catch her.

Swirling her around to the front to lift her from the water, Blexi would find themselves in the soft jaws of something, only briefly before Haba pulled her out and into her arms. “Ah friend don’t slip! The water cold, and you do not have gear on, very vulnerable!”

“You are too precious for water to gobble.” The tall woman snuggled her friend to her chest, keeping her steady and safe. But while all that was nice, one had to really ponder. What was that tail like creature looking up at them  so briefly from the water, almost akin to a Re-class tail. Though it had helped Blexi, no doubt there was more questions to be had, was it even there? It would be hard to tell as Haba’s hug blocked vision and took the focus.

“I will not let my precious friend go this time! I will hold personally, very dear to me.”

There was indeed some surprise to being caught in what felt awful fleshy and warm, but there would be no space to ponder what it was, as the submarine’s vision would be blockaded by her face being held so close to Haba’s chest. Managing to squirm around enough to breathe and speak clearly, Bleikrfaxi finally responded.

“I w-would have been fine, you know. My wetsuit is built to withstand low temperature and high pressure. Spasibo, none the less.” Speaking of gobbling, though...

“So... how exactly did you rescue me, anyway? It didn’t feel like you caught me in your arms, you know.” She had a hunch, based on what she had seen lurking beneath the waves before, on what the answer to that question would be.

“Yes yes a date! Is that not what friends do, big outing for big occasion. Super date.” The woman clapped with such enthusiasm, for her this would be a first to simply go hang out with someone she liked. To what degree had to be judged still, but her eagerness lent a lot towards her affection. “Is it? Ah ha, I see many go do silly things.”

With a steady push they picked up more speed, plenty safe for the sub to relax on, a little cold to the rear but all and all rather stable. At least, for their body, their phone however, didn’t seem as lucky. “Oh?”

Haba could feel the movement and soon, with some keen reaction, a ‘part’ of her would save the phone. Though the saving would be a little out of view, the fact it was saved would only appear as Haba bent down forward, showing off her rear a moment before leaning back up with said phone.

“You must be careful dear friend, not to drop drop.” Haba had the phone in hand, “we will make sure never to lose. I am quick to catch as I said, even phone of precious friend.”

“You can slip and I’ll catch too, might be fun to catch friend!” But really, how did she do it!

While Haba turned to grab the phone, Bleikrfaxi was still trying to regain her balance, body twisting and turning in difficult ways, but without anything to brace herself against...

Lucy blinked at that, but she made no comment. Volokolamsk had skill in cooking last they’d seen of each other — no doubt she’d improved since. “Urroigh’,” Lucy said, as she stood up, taking the handle of her luggage. “Oi’ll be back in a sec,” she went on, but she paused at the doorway. After a second, she slowly turned around on one foot, leaning on the wall.

“Luba? Oi — Oi missed’cha. A lot. Oi’m glad’ta see you again. Real glad — Oi, uh, Oi just wanted’cha’ta know.” And with that, she turned right back around on the same foot, scurrying away to the clattering tune of the wheels on her luggage.

Luba smiled, nodding. “I missed you too. More than you could believe.”

The bedroom in question was a fairly small, cozy thing, but that fit in with the rest of the house. The bed itself was actually relatively small, maybe a double twin; hopefully it was long enough for Lucy to sleep comfortably. Various knickknacks adorned shelves and surfaces around the room, most prominently on her nightstand being a picture of one JS Trench Café, dolled up in dress blues and looking as expressionless (and possibly uncomfortable?) as ever. If she looked left to the dresser, however, there was a picture in a larger frame that probably meant much more to either of them.

It was bright for the early morning, and the crisp fall air was scented by the sakura petals gracing the grounds of the courtyard with their beauty. From left to right, all in dress whites featuring genuine smiles and teary eyes, were four ships.

CC-290, UNSC Everest; DD-602, UNSC Volokolamsk; CFV-88, Ex-UNSC Spirit of Fire; FFG-219, ex-UNSC Trench Café. was scribbled on the bottom in black marker.

Other things much more personal than souvenirs and awards were present as well, Including a small collection of hip flasks. There was a small number of them, many from certain locations and engraved to show that, but another, with the eagle, globe, and tree of life, sat front and center of the collection. At the bottom read a four-letter engraving. COLE

Agoncourt wasn’t happy to hear ‘stand down,’ but her rifle lowered nonetheless, the solos of her missiles almost reluctantly closing. She had no words for the abyssal, only glaring, remaining between Seventeen and Everest.

At which point another ship emerged. Agincourt’s RCS ports puffed to turn her sideways, and even before the radio call, Agincourt had gasped, “Yamato!”

Oh, yes, the destroyer knew what Yamato looked like. But there would be no problems. While this Yamato looked so alike, there were distinct new additions, and besides, that war was over. But neither did Agincourt know how to react… except to introduce herself, after Everest.

“UNSC Agincourt, DD-219. 434. I mean, DD-434. Um… escort vessel.” That was all, as her helmet turned to Everest, almost but not quite asking aloud what she should do.

Yamato, seemingly as full of grace as her surface counterpart, nodded in turn to Agincourt’s introduction.

“Well met, Agincourt.” Looking back to the Vice Admiral, she returned to business.

“Long have I sat and observed, watching the goings-on in this version of Earth’s orbit, silently waiting for the time when Earth would be ready to accept a fleet from the stars, or be so threatened that we had no choice to defend her.”

“This... harbinger, as she calls herself, Seventeen, has informed me of the situation after a long game of cat and mouse; It seems the UNCN can stand by no longer.”

“The First Fleet has mobilized, Vice Admiral; you will not be in this fight alone.” The battleship was quiet after that, either finished speaking or uncertain of what to say next. SEKHMET spoke up abruptly, seeming startled. “Incoming data package from the Yamato, Ev, and... you’re not going to believe this. Relaying information to your HUD.” Whether intentional or not, both ship’s Heads-Up Displays began scrolling through what appeared to be a list; on further inspection- “This is the official fleet record of the United Nations Cosmo Navy First Fleet. There’s... There’s so many more of them than I anticipated. Counting Yamato herself, that is twenty-three ships in total. Two battleships, nine cruisers, and twelve destroyers.” Everest herself was, for lack of a better word, speechless. When she heard a fleet, she assumed something akin to her own; a ragtag bundle of ships, all come in at different times. This was no such case.

This was a battlefleet. 

As Everest processed this information, she nodded subconsciously.

“This... this changes everything.” Looking up to meet her fellow flagship’s vision, she spoke on an open channel once more.

“Keeping safe, of course. Blexi is a smart girl.” Habakukk was still beaming, watching the girl hook her rig to the carrier, letting it turn back into another form, strange to Ice carrier but she’s hardly seen other rigs off the other girls. “Nice and compact storage, a good easy tow.”

“You are very light without your rig, but make sure you don’t slip.” Habakukk reminded, picking up speed with her friend now carried. The water breaking before her, slow moving but still nice and smooth. The water tailing off behind them, with some odd ripples. 

“Have not relaxed? Then today I make sure my friend relaxes, I show you the new phones, like a outing. Ah no they call, date! Haha.” The tall woman, giant as she was, was all soft and bubbly. 

“If you slip, I will catch no worries.”

An eyebrow went up at that suggestion.

“A date? All the way out here? I’m certainly flattered, friend, but I never expected you to be so... forward.” Bleikrfaxi rolled her head side to side, then shrugged.

“Aaah, who cares? A first date of a dinner is a Western custom anyway. Let me grab my telephone, then, if you’re so insistent.” The submersible carrier stood up, slowly, and once satisfied with her balance unzipped a watertight pocket in her wetsuit, where out the phone came!

However, when she moved to sit back down, her left foot lost traction. In surprise, Ak-303 dropped the device, leaving it skittering across Haba’s flight deck while the submarine fell the other direction - back towards the frigid Arctic waters.