thing

The way the water sloshed against the hull before me sent shivers down my spine. Rough waves and roaring wind battered the weathered "16" along the Leahy's deep grey coat, leaving me nervous about the mooring lines. Almost a dozen ships, hulking spires of metal and war, all haphazardly tied and hope to die. They'd never had to hold up in this kind of storm before. Dark clouds shrouded mountains and mountains were drenched in rain. Freezing rain. The kind of freeze that ground you to the bone and would never quite leave. And truth be told, I'd not expected this makeshift dockyard to be a lasting solution. The waters were deep but the metal was old, much older than the hulls that were supposed to be recycled years ago. Soaked ropes tugged at the mooring rings, and with all its creaking, I swore that it would all break loose at any moment. But I wasn't a navy guy. There were people who knew more than me in the realm of seafaring, and apparently this gum and shoestring nonsense would hold against the odds. At least for now. There was no way for me to hear the footsteps from behind. Out of the corner of my eye, the distinct form of Captain Cahn had emerged at my side, recognizable even under her poncho. "What are you doing out here?" Over the storm her voice was sharp and punctual, her Vietnamese heritage bleeding through. "You know everyone's to be indoors. You're not special." * [["And good morning to you too, ma'am!"]] (Leahy) * [["Don't you think this is going to get broken loose?"]] (???) * [["I enjoy torturing myself."]] (D’Estrees and Du Chayla)

"Yes, fantastic morning." She scoffed, furrowing her eyebrows towards the line of ships before her. The freezing rain was not kind to her. "Oh, shut up, Hopkins." I chose not to reply. I had a reputation of being an asshole. Didn't need to make things any worse. "I have no idea who thought this was a good idea." She snapped. "The prefab structures are going to collapse if the winds get any worse. These ancient hunks of shit aren't going to last a day." * [["You're telling me?"]]

"Of course this is all going to fall apart." She nodded, leaving her head down low in an attempt to hide from the downpour. "This is all junk. The pier, the lines, our fucking houses... I hate these ships. I hate the weather. I hate the food. I hate not having cable. I just fucking hate it here." She shivered as an especially heavy gust of wind swept through the trees and over the water, rocking the missile cruiser before us. None of the crew were supposed to be onboard. Apparently, it was for safety. "And the worst part?" She looked right at me. "They hate us, too. I don't have any idea how they tolerate you." * [["They don't hate us. They just hate being treated like shit."]] * [["They're trying, ma'am. Why don't you ever talk to them?"]]

"I know! That's obvious." She crossed her arms beneath the poncho, catching a puddle of glacial water out of spite. "Why else would you want to be in fucking Alaska! Everything here hates us! Fuck, Hopkins, what's wrong with us? What's wrong with me?" It was obvious she was having a worse time than I was. And truth be told, I couldn't blame her. She was carrying this entire operation on her shoulders and couldn't say a word to her husband. She missed her son's first birthday. She missed his first... everything. All for what, immature girls who want to play navy? She had a lot of pent up stress. That's normal for a commanding officer. I wasn't necessarily her best friend, but, well. "I had to take a call just before I got out here. Remember the Soviet liason who was sniffing around base last week? Apparently he's bringing friends next week. Do you have any idea how fucked we are?" I nodded, a stone settling in my stomach. We weren't going to be sleeping anytime soon, weren't we? "God, Hopkins. Half our expenses went on requisitioning these metal fucks and the other half is going to fixing them! And- and the CIA asshole, have you met him? Barney, if that's even his real name, he thinks we're spending too much on amenities. Amenities! Can you believe that?" I shook my head. * [["To be fair, weekend passes with such generous allowances isn't tenable in the long run."]]

"Yes, I'm telling you. You haven't read the sounding reports before and after they got here. You haven't read the parts requests that supply keeps thinking will get approved. Can you imagine what it takes to put one of these mothballed shits back into service? Now, doing that with my budget, well." There wasn't any wiggle room for expenditure now that we started pulling these ships in here. The vetting process for new crew would keep things quiet around here for a little while, but I knew we'd need more housing, more food, and worst of all, more supplies to keep the water outside of the ships, not inside. Captain Cahn sighed, hands wiping water off her face. "Sorry. It's been a really rough week. And- and now, you know what I have to put up with? There's two cruisers missing and we both know were they're going to be. I really don't have the time to deal with this." With comedic timing, a head popped up over the side of CG-16's superstructure, right by the bridge. From a distance, it was hard to make out who it was, but I knew exactly who it could be. The only question was who else was with her. "Jesus. Are you kidding me?" Cahn's desperation bled through her voice. "And they wonder why I hate them." * [["I'll take a look."]]

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"Tell me about it." She sighed, fists clenched. "But we don't have a choice. Half of the cruisers think we're cheaping out on them already. I got three seperate reports - can you believe that? Three reports - that "little girls had broken into the pantry," which would explain why I have to go to supply to order another three weeks worth of rations. Again." That would likely be D’Estrees and Du Chayla, those assholes. And there's no way they were working on their own. They didn't eat that much. America and Victorious mentioned something about the terrible food situation. Could they have something to do with this? "I just don't get it, Hopkins. There's no winning here. We can't make them happy. We can't make S-2 happy. And there's no way we'll be able to make the Reds happy. Not with the funds we're getting, at least." And that was true. It was hard to get anything done without the money or manpower, let alone the willpower. The secrecy devoted to this project made acquiring new funds impossible, and the intelligence community was pulling enough favors already in getting us these ships. I wasn't even sure they were worth it. We could run the tests with just one hull. This was all to make them happy, a bottom line that was unnegotiable for people with such strong connections to what they called their better half. How could we afford not to give them what they wanted? They were weapons, after all, and we needed to use them. * [["I could look into the food situation."]] * [["I'll have a talk with some of the destroyers."->"I could look into the food situation."]]

"Fuck, Hopkins." Captain Cahn didn't seem like she was about to explode for the first time all day. "Please do. I have a hundred things on the agenda today and playing babysitter just isn't one of them." She looked to the ship before us. It rocked in the waves, leaving me more concerned than ever. Was it going to snap? "I really got to run. Apparently we can't find two cruisers. Either they ran off like they always do or they're trying to get comfortable in their new coffin." Acquiring this junk did have a real advantage in the long run, it seemed. These shipgirls are inseperable from their hulls. * [["Good luck."]]

And she sighed, a million things on her mind, turning away from the water and letting the chill swell across her face. Her heels dug into the stony ground and she spun as a frigid gust of wind nearly swept her off her feet. She had an example to uphold, and in beating the odds she kept herself as steady and dignified as she ever could. Don't rock the boat, I thought, my mind wandering back to the ships before me. I hadn't the slightest idea what we were doing with all of these. But what we were doing here was sacred, in a way, or so I felt, because enduring all this crap, working through all this new ground, it had to mean somthing. Something far more than just this moment. This storm. This secrecy, this isolation, this unspoken war. No one else in the world could do this. No intel spooks, no mind shrinks, no nobody. If anyone could connect to these people it was going to be me. Us. It was going to be us. But it didn't matter to me. Not right now. I honestly just miss my (seq-link:"bed","coffee","cafe on the corner","warm mornings","juicy steaks","future","friends","mom"). No amount of ocean can take me home. And that sucks, sure, but we've got work to do. Always did. Always will. All we're trying to do is work together. If they're going to be so ungrateful and make my life, no, our lives miserable, then fuck them. Fuck boats. I need to go... * [[Investigate the DFAC]] * [[Check the dorms]]

"You're a lifesaver, Hopkins." Cahn sounded like she was about to cry. "I just got told we have a Soviet delegation arriving next week and I'm going to freak out if we have another incident on our hands. Just, just please, remember how no one is supposed to be out in the storm. Please, please, please don't get your head cracked on something metal." I nodded. A part of me really didn't want to go out there, with the cold and all, but the last thing we needed was some doofus ship thinking she can disobey orders and get away with it. There's enough of that as there is. Not to mention how it would make my life easier if I didn't have a reputation of being a pushover. * [["Good luck with that. You know where to find me."]]

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The mess hall was the most obvious place to start to look for clues. It was a rather small building disconnected from the main facility, an old Navy reserve base left over from World War Two. It was one of the prefab structures added when we "inherited" the place, building Site 02 to house this shipgirl project. It was certainly cleaner and didn't reek of aesbestos, but it was also a whole lot emptier. The walls were barren. The rooms were hollow. The place was sad. I pushed through the heavy double doors that marked the entrance. This place wasn't usually kept locked, but I knew we were going to have a lengthy debate on that after these continuous food incidents. I stood there, freezing my ass off as the door slammed shut behind me. The sound of wind died in an instant. My clothes, however, remained drenched, with the rap-tap of water on wall acting as a constant reminder that this place wasn't friendly to human life. There was a silence in the air, amidst the cacophony of Alaska, that sent a shiver down my spine, freezing at the bottom of my boots upon leaving a sting in my sinuses. I never really came here alone. This was the only time I'd been here between eating hours. Tables empty. Chow line, abandoned. Lights off. The depths of isolation grew stronger as the ceiling quivered, seeming to buck and threaten a break against the high winds. I should be alone. * [[Check the pantry]] * [[Leave->Run]]

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The pantry was kept locked. The room was hidden behind the chow line and through the kitchen, marked only by a sign beside the doorframe that read "3-04" as a designation. I'd never been behind here. We had four cooks assigned here and they each had to prepare food for everyone three times a day. Considering how we had over a dozen shipgirls here, not to mention our assigned personnel, it was quite the tall order. Now, in the dark, one of my keys should've been the right one to get this door open. I had only started to rummage between the keys in my palm before realizing that there was a good chance it was still unlocked. I tried to pull open the door. Without so much as a tug, it swung open without so much as a creak. Easy enough. Whoever unlocked this door had to have picked the lock. There's no way one of our spare keys went missing. At least, not unless someone remarkably crafty was at work. Even then, they would've locked the door behind them, so it must've been picked. The criminal must either be close by or have a plan to return sometime within the day. But I should be alone. * [[Step inside the pantry]] * [[Run]]

Curious. The walls were lined with shelving and cans. Boxes upon boxes of perishable goods sat below them in neat, single file stacks. Of course, you had the usual - peanut butter, jam, packaged cheeses and ingredients for making fresh bread. Fridges and freezers in the back must've held meats and things like milk. It was hard to see in the little light there was from the kitchen, but I could've sworn I saw something amiss with some of the boxes to my left. I should be alone. * [[Take a closer look]] * [[Run]]

They were watching me. And I knew it. And they knew I knew it. And they didn't trust me more than I didn't trust them, so by the time I reached the door, they were ready to take me down.

Yeah. The edges had been ripped open and set back into place, despite the damage. I only had trouble seeing it due to the lighting. Someone had just pulled off a cardboard tab and reached in to grab... ...cookies? Prepackaged, individually wrapped cookies. And they weren't even good. These were the hardest, most stale hunks of shit that could be considered a baked product. And they weren't usually this bad. It was like they'd been cursed with awful food. Who would willingly go out to steal this stuff? And that's when I heard [[it]].

#//"Merde !"// Scampering and snap-crack voices, foreign in nature and seemingly commands, barked behind me. I didn't have enough time to turn before something very heavy connected with my head. I knew this because of the pain, but this knowledge did nothing for me after a split second. (after:3s)[.](after:4s)[.](after:5s)[.] (after:7s)[.](after:8s)[.](after:9s)[.] (after:11s)[.](after:12s)[.](after:13s)[.] (after:15s)[(link:"...")[= [[What is my name?]]]

(force-input-box:"=XX=","曾子曰：「士不可以不弘毅，任重而道遠。仁以為己任，不亦重乎？死而後已，不亦遠乎？」") (after:8s)[(link:"...")[= [[I think I am, I am...]]]

"...awake. He's awake." I couldn't see a thing. My fingers had gone numb. I tried to move and felt myself stuck. Legs bound and arms tied. A chair, it must've been. I could hear the rap-tap of water and the roar of wind far off, off in the nowhere I couldn't see. I was somewhere, sure, probably in the dining facility. "//C'est bon//." Spoke another. This voice came softer. "I recognize him. This one works with //les Américains//." "Yes. And he knows too much. We would do well to dispose of him here. Now." "//Non//, no. We cannot do that. They will find out very quick. They will catch us!" We had two Frenchies on base and it seemed like both of them decided that I was going to be their enemy today. Despite the pain in my head I could still remember their names. "Hey. Hey! What's all this about?" I snarled, gritting my teeth. "Come on." "//Tais-toi!//" One of them snapped. "Be nice!" The other protested. "Oh my god." I groaned. "Take this blindfold off. I know who you are. D'Estrées, Du Chayla, cut the shit." "Don't-!" Light came fast. D'Estrées reached out to yank off my blindfold, letting it slip to the floor with ease. I was still in the pantry, just tied up to a chair in the middle of the room. D'Estrées stood tall with her arms crossed. Her sister didn't seem pleased in the slightest. She uphold a stern pout and held up a nagging finger towards my face. "He'll report us and we'll be in so, so much trouble-" "We won't be in trouble." D'Estrées smirked. She looked directly at me. Was this some kind of interrogation? "Won't we?" "What do you mean?" Her sister stammered. "They hate our guts enough. Sure, we can't quite kill him, but we could at least try to shut him up somehow. We could, oh, I don't know, we'll-" "I know, I know." D'Estrées groaned, rolling her eyes. "Will you listen to me?" "Fine. Speak." The ASW destroyer glared through my eyes. My clothes, soaked from the rain, stuck to my skin and left a chill in my bones. "The last thing this one wants is the reputation of being captured. This little incident, this... mistake, it can stay between us. No?" I sighed. It was hard to take her seriously when she looked so young. Of course my reputation would be utterly destroyed if anyone heard I was... captured by these destroyers, but then again, they would forever be branded as children if people knew they were stealing cookies from the fucking cookie jar. "Right!" Du Chayla beamed. "There's no reason any of this needs to be known by anyone. You can just let us..." She leaned into D'Estrées' ear and whispered. "What are our demands?" D'Estrées leaned into Du Chayla's ear, cupping it with one hand. "Money." She looked to me. "We want one thousand //dollars américain//!" Du Chayla leaned into D'Estrées ear again. "And... //je veux une voiture//." "And a car!" D'Estrées nodded at me. "I want to drive one of those American Ford F-150 trucks." "And our hulls." Came the whisper. "And our hulls!" D'Estrées proclaimed, hands on her hips. "You and your selfish American friends have been getting all the attention. I want to set sail once again! You think your cruisers should get all the action? The //communiste// enemy is closer than ever in this frozen //l'enfer//, and we are sitting //canes//!" "You've been living with us for like, two years now, and you still don't know how to speak English?" I laughed. "//Tais-toi!//" Du Chayla flicked my forehead. * [["You'll get your trucks and whatever. Just untie me."]]

"Do you think I am some //imbécile//?" Du Chayla raised her hand to slap me only to get caught by her sister, who seemed a bit more satisfied than not. "It is good." She nodded. "At the end of the day, we still have this incident as... what is the word?" "Leverage?" I offered. "Leverage." D'Estrées chirped. She released Du Chayla's hand. "Yes, leverage." The AAW destroyer replied in earnest. "I suppose that is good enough." "Yeah, and if you say a word about this, you know people will know you were stealing cookies. Not anything good, either. Just fucking cookies." I glared at the both of them. D'Estrées stepped around the chair and undid my bindings with ease. As the lines slapped against the ground, I stretched my wrists and let them sit in my lap. "It's not our fault that the food here is //dégueulasse//." Du Chayla crossed her arms. "I hate it here." "You think I like it here, squirt?" "Non." "So cut it out. We're not here for fun and games. It's a fucking posting. You ever work a day in your life? Come on, really?" "Of course." She leaned in, eyes narrowing. "I have traveled nearly //un million milles//. Do you think we do nothing for all that time?" "Yeah, one million miles with hot-cakes and ice cream." "You don't understand." D'Estrées rubbed her cheek. "You weren't out there. We lived full, honorable lives at sea, serving dutifully as vessels of war. You? You may be a soldier, but in this //garnison// you endure //la pâtée// because you do not know your worth. Do you know what we did to get to this point? We know we deserve better. Can't les //États Unis// do any better?" Holy fuck. These spoiled brats. * [["What's your problem?"]]

I stood, fists clenched, stomach tight and unable to contain my displeasure. "You think this is some kind of game? We keep you here for shits and giggles? You can pretend like you're people all you want but you're so clearly not. We get it. The people here, the soldiers, sailors and whatever, we get that you're not normal. We're probably the only people who do." They seemed capable of listening, so I took a breath, let myself settle in and spoke again, this time with less authority and more instruction. "You probably still think your country is going to take you back. That they're still looking after you." "And they are." Du Chayla interjected. "We fought for them and we will do it again." "And you're with us now. It's not America, Soviet, French, whatever. It's us. Just us and the ice. And yeah, we get a grant from your people to cover your costs of living. It's... I guess we should be more transparent about how things actually work around here. That's our- no, that's my fault." D'Estrées stepped back and leaned against a box. "I understand." She nodded with a slow tilt of the head. "We are the last to know how things happen. It's always like this with //les militaires//." "How about this." I looked the both of them dead center. "I want you to tell me everything you don't like about living here. I want to know what to do to make things easier on you. We have to learn to work together, and unless we can have trust, well-" "//Oui//, yes," Du Chayla clapped. "we can make amends. Make friends. But can we do it outside of //le garde-manger//?" Du Chayla looked itching to leave. I looked at D'Estrées, who covered her mouth to smile. I could tell that she wanted to laugh. But alas, we were finally on the same page, and sadly enough, it took a kidnapping to get here. Spending so much of my name hating it here without realizing they, too, hated it just as much. And for their own reasons. Maybe I'm the spoiled one. How could I be so damn ignorant? [[So I laughed.]]

By the time we left the pantry my clothes had started to dry, and by the time the cold left my bones we had split six cookies between the three of us. We sat at one of the tables and didn't care about leaving crumbs. I was a culprit too, now, and my hand in the cookie jar wouldn't look good for the captain. But she said it herself. We had to do anything in our power to get close to these things. To earn their trust. To learn how they work. How they tick. If they felt like they were being more "human" in the process, so be it. It didn't make a difference in the end. When the day came that we had to kill them or use them, I wanted to be ready.