Chapter 22: Chapter 21: November Says Farewell

Sir Grey the Greyest Grey here. I think the name’s squirming its way into my system…

Well anyway, right now, we’re heading away from Fort Moonscar and getting ready to drop a bunch of nukes on him and send him off for good—and yes, I refuse to call that literal star fort a battleship. It’s just, there’s no way it’s a battleship, okay?

The sun’s already dipping into the sea. I’m not sure why, but I feel like Moonscar’s enjoying the view.

Just to recap, the Hooked Up to a Tube Theory’s been confirmed, so Sam’s putting together a cleaning crew to purge my sealed-off sections for good before finding my real body. I got some of my marines to do a little bit of cursory inspection of the stubby vault doors sealing them off, and they found a bunch of shallow dents that looked like they’d come from the other side.

Good thing they aren’t sliding doors, huh? Would’ve been a pain to get them open.

Still—I’ve got a real body, huh? Not like I’d suddenly sit up from a fever dream of having been an aircraft carrier. Besides, if I’m really Hooked Up to a Tube, I’d probably die-for-real the moment I get disconnected, right?

Well, that, and I lose all right to say I’m a Fuckin’ Aircraft Carrier.

Before that, though, there’s still a bunch of problems to sort through. Everyone also needs to rest, and my internal defenses are still stocked on 50-cal for days, so there’s no problem if we just kick back and relax for a while.

First, I don’t really know where my body is.

It’s kinda weird, but since day 1, I’ve been convinced that my body is the aircraft carrier. Now that the Hooked Up to a Tube Theory’s on the table, though, me and Marge were thinking that I’ve basically got self-perception issues. When haven’t I, really?

Second, we sorta suddenly remembered, Oh right, California exists.

One would think that millions of what could only be alien probes should, you know, just maybe, count as some sort of apocalypse-scale invasion? Pretty sure the bayside city’s fucked up, but hopefully not that badly, since the Continental Crusaders (what a name, right?) have been mass-producing Marge’s missiles the moment she approved the last design. Still, the surrounding countryside might not be so lucky.

Sam also says there’s probably gonna be a whole bunch of refugees streaming in from the nearest cities, and maybe even the ones the next over. She’s still gotta issue orders and dispatch troops out to keep refugees from turning into bandits and such. It’s also already November, so winter’s gonna be biting anyone too far north, and they’ll be packing ASAP to get down here to avoid it. It’s either that or they’ll try rebuilding a whole city in the middle of winter. Tough shit, dude.

Third… I need aircraft carrier friends!

Seriously, where the hell is she! She’s the first I’ve seen of my people and didn’t try to drop nukes on me! I mean, she even talked to me, you know?

Why’d she talk to me then just leave? What does it mean?!

I send a telepathic scream through the SpiritNet—yeah, that’s what I’m calling it now. Pretty sure no one’ll hear me…

—Hhhhh … shut up …

Ah fuck, sorry.

… Ah fuck, I just pissed her off at the worst timing, huh? And she just sort of showed up at a convenient timing, huh? I mean, it’s not like I can actually see her anywhere right now. She’s probably still underwater.

Submerged submarines are slower than aircraft carriers, right? I can probably just run away right now and she’d never catch up, right?

—… stop … one moment …

… Oh fine, I’ll do it your way!

Seriously, I was just on my way to nuke Moonscar, ranting about not having friends, and she shows up like this? Wait, shouldn’t I actually be happy? Why am I so pissy, that doesn’t make sense…

Ah, right, I’m on a mission and I wanna get it over with, no interruptions. Right now, I’m about 20 miles from Moonscar. The mages downstairs managed to pump out a bunch more nukes this whole time, and at this sort of range, it’s the perfect balance of “close as possible to home” and “won’t miss the shot”.

Ah, well, and I just wanted to go out a little further just to make sure we didn’t catch anything weird from the blast—until this gal showed up.

Should I stop? Should I just go? Gah!

Alright, alright, consult, consult, I need to consult. The most reliable person I can think of right now… She’s probably dead tired and asleep, but I think I’ve got a pretty solid reason to wake up her up, right?

{Hey, Sam, you up?}

It takes a while, but the door to her room opens. She stumbles out, rubbing her eyes. I’m sort of surprised she even woke up this fast…

“Sir Grey? What is it?”

{Remember the other spirit ship? The submarine? Yeeaah, she’s in the area and I think she’s about to show up soon.}

Sam froze. “Is that… a bad thing?”

{Don’t think so?}

Her shoulders slumped back down. “I see… then, please proceed as you are.”

{Huh? No royal supervision or anything?}

“Sir Grey, I have very little understanding of how spirit ships interact. In fact, this might be a first. Since I consider you a friend, I will entrust this historic moment to you.”

After yawning and saying that, she closes the door with a soft clang, but with a lot of locks being shut.

… Did you really just go back to sleep? Really?

A’ight. No pressure, I guess.

***

After telling the rest of the crew that I’ll be stopping for a while, no explanation whatsoever, they all reply with what amounted to a “K.”

Do they really not care about my decisions? I’m kinda hurt.

I slow, then finally, stop. Where are you?

—… Port …

I look there, and sure enough, about a half mile away, the sea’s parting in the most dramatic way possible. The sun’s so low that the sea’s already really dark, and with her matte black finish, I don’t think anyone on-board would’ve spotted her unless they were already expecting it.

 

Aw man, she looks so cool, though.

 

—… blush …

 

…

 

I—

 

…

 

… So uh, you come around here often?

—… live here…

I see, I see. Hey, is it just me or you’re speaking a bit weird?

…

You are reading story Reincarnated as an Aircraft Carrier at novel35.com

I don’t get a reply for a while. Did I just ask a sensitive question on our first meeting? Fuck me, dude.

 

— … I—

Hm? HM? NononoNO–NOOOOO COME BAAACK!

 

… She dived back down.

 

I’m sad.

 

I just wanted a friend.

 

…

 

… what’s that bubbling right beside me? Why is there a 100-foot pillar of water?!

—HELLOOOOOO~

JESUSCHRIST.

—Sorry, reception’s a little bad. Is this clear enough for you?

Clear? Good Lord in Heaven, I can hear a voice crispier than pringles and sweeter than cheese. I mean, cheese is sweet, right?

—You sure you don’t say that to every girl you meet?

Huh? Pringles and cheese don’t make a good pickup line, though?

—That—never mind. Anyway, I’m here on business this time.

Aw man. I’ll be lonely, though.

—I’m a busy submarine, you know? Well, looks like I’ll be free for a while after this, so…

“After this”? What sort of business was that, even? Oh-and-yeesss—

—Heh, weird guy. You’re about to scuttle the old man, right? You got to him before I could. Looks like you took good care of him, though.

That’s… right? Honestly, I’ve got a lot of questions right now…

—We’ll go over that later. For now, I need to confirm a few things. Did you kill the Hivemind in his core?

The… the what?

—The Hivemind. Big squiggly thing with a bunch of tentacles.

Oh, that. Sam said they killed it better than bleach could clean a kitchen counter. I didn’t even know bleach still existed until she said that…

—H-hUH? Bleach is still—I mean, alright, that’s good, that’s good. Well, that about does it. You’ve got questions?

The heck, that was fast! W-well, I mean, I guess—uuhhh, going by order of priorities right now… Are there gonna be more of those probe-type things?

—The swarm drones? Huhhh—I think we got the whole Pacific swarm by now? There’ll be stragglers over the mainland, but since the Hivemind’s dead, the old man should’ve done something about the units still tethered to him. Can’t say the same about the autonomous ones, though.

Come to think of it, why’re you calling him ‘old man’? Were you close?

—I’m… actually not sure.

The heck kind of answer is that?

—Well, can you tell me how you came to be?

… Alright, fair, fair.

—That’s just how it is. I only know some other surface details, so I won’t be unlocking the secrets of the world for you anytime soon. For now, I think the old man’s waiting.

Ah, right, right…

***

We sailed alongside each other for another few miles. I’ll be straining my accuracy on the magic cannons if I go any further.

Hey, you hear me? I forgot to ask your name.

—I… think I’ve forgotten it.

Oh man, that sucks. Sam and the others call me Grey, but that’s only because they can’t say my true name, which is brimming in arcane powers that will overwhelm anyone who speaks a word of it.

—Huuhhh. Don’t tell me you’ll just say Dick or something.

I… you know, sometimes, life can throw beautiful coincidences your way.

—… No way.

USS Dick, at your service. I had no choice in this. Goddamnit.

… Say, you’ve got a choice yourself right now, don’t you?

—Huh. Giving myself a name, huh…

I give her a while to think it over, but I’m not that patient, so a while just means a few seconds. Guess I’ll just call you November for now, since it’s November, huh…

—Wait, hey! Don’t just go around naming me without my—

A’ight—November! I’ll be stopping right here. I should be able to fire off a decent couple of rounds at this distance and not miss.

—A-ah. It’s time, huh?

Uh-huh. Any last words for the guy?

— … Thank you for taking care of me.

***

All four magic cannons fire at once, and just as the tail of the sun dips past the horizon, the sea of dark is lit up once more, but by a sharper light. For a few seconds, the sea is alight, and the waves make shadows. The night swallows them again. It is done.

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