Dark.

That was the only thought going through her mind as she floated through and endless sea of dark. She didn't know where she was, didn't know what she was floating through. It was neither cold nor warm, it just seemed to match her own temperature perfectly until it felt like there was no difference between her and the void. There was no sensation of the sea against her hull, nor the sounds of waves breaking against her bow. She felt nothing, heard nothing, and saw nothing.

Most things would have panicked at a situation like this. Not her. She'd earned her rest. She'd earned it by fighting to save her country from itself, to save it from a lie that threatened to tear not only it but the world apart. She'd earned it by seeing her planes off safely as she sank, holding it together just long enough for them to depart on their final mission to strike the true enemy at their heart. Most others would have blown their own magazines for a chance to do what she'd done.

She was content. She'd done her duty, gone beyond it even, and died to see it fulfilled. And she knew it had. There was no doubt. Wherever those four pilots went, history bent to their will. They'd succeeded, she knew.

All she had to do know was rest.

But she couldn't. Something called to her. A voice. A plea. Something needed her. Someone needed her!

Her reactors spun up. Her turbines began to roar. Her catapults shuddered in anticipation.

OFS Kestrel was needed, and she would answer the call.

-[]-[]-[]-

She found herself on a rather calm sea, the deep blue waters making waves barely high enough to reach her knees. A warm tropical breeze blew through her hair and ruffled the hem of her skirt. The bright rays of the sun nearly blinded her as they beat down on her skin-.

Wait a tic.

Knees? Hair? Skin? EYES?!

The once carrier looked down at herself, and wow was that ever a strange thought to her, and found herself staring at something that she really wasn't expecting on seeing today. She had legs. Covered in some weird navy gray approximation of shoes that stood on water and a set of black thigh high socks that ended just below the hem of a black-and-red pleated skirt. Wrapped around her new torso, she found an immaculately pressed Navy Dress Uniform the colors of which matched those of her skirt. The rank insignias on her shoulders denoted the rank of Captain. Her blond hair was shoulder length and whatever style she wore it in was summarily ruined by the ocean winds blowing it every which way but down.

On her back sat most of her superstructure and aviation facilities. Her radar was scanning the skies, keeping an eye out for threats. Her elevators were ready and waiting to bring her fighters up to her flight deck. Speaking of, it seemed that the business end of her operations had been split into two pieces. On the right side was the forward part of her flight deck, which held space for her two forward catapults and jet blast deflectors. The entire assembly was attached to a mechanical arm that attached it to the rest of her superstructure. A single trigger assembly allowed her to grab it and raise the small platform up to shoulder height. As she did so, the catapults began steaming as they waited to launch her planes into the air.

On her left side, acting like an angular tower shield was the rest of her flight deck. There was no handle for her to grab to help raise it. Instead, the much more robust mechanical arm began to whir as the massive plate raised itself into position near her shoulder. At the end of the angled flight deck were two more catapults for when she absolutely, positively needed to get all her planes up as soon as possible. Behind them she saw three arrestor wires lashed across her deck waiting to bring her flyers home. Hanging off the sides of the flight deck were four launchers for Sea Sparrow Missiles and four Phalanx 20mm CIWS guns.

She turned her attention back to her superstructure, and to the elevators that led to her hangar that hung around her hips. Two on the left and two on the right. Obviously, she was supposed to receive her planes from these, grab them and place them on her catapults to ready them for launch. Now it made sense as to why her rear flight deck was controlled by a robotic setup. It freed up her arms to launch her fighters.

Speaking of, she ran a quick inventory of fighters and personnel...okay so there were little people living inside her, good to know...and the results were...poor to say the least. She had four planes in her hangar. Four. Total. Out of a maximum capacity of 90. And they were F-14A Tomcats. Good for air patrols, pretty well crap at anything else.

That was pretty much the air wing she'd been packing after she'd essentially gone rogue. It was highly disappointing but not entirely unworkable. She'd need to play it smart going forward.

And for that she needed intel.

She was alone, that was for sure, and floating not to far off from a small island if her radar scope was to be believed. She had no idea as to where she was specifically though, and it was doubtful that the island had any port facilities that could accommodate a carrier of her stature. Or any ship bigger than a canoe for that matter. Even then one little island wasn't enough for her to get her bearings anyway. Luckily, she had something that could give her exact position to within ten meters. Good ol' GPS. And there was GPS out here, she could pick up the transmissions from the satellites.

Too bad the next few seconds only left her disappointed rather than informed. Whatever amount of time had passed since her sinking and subsequent...rebirth for lack of a better term, it had definitely affected the transmission protocols for GPS satellites. Her own protocols were wildly out of date, with barely any of them matching up. Which meant that using her GPS to figure out he location was not much of an option anymore.

So much for that plan.

"Old fashioned way it is then." She muttered to herself. She blinked, surprised at her own voice and how...deep it was.

Shaking off that thought she lowered one of her elevators, preparing to launch her aircraft one at a time. If there was one blessing to the Tomcat fighters she had on hand it was their powerful-as-all-hell radars, one of the best ever mounted on a fighter. It would extend her detection range much further out than what she would have on her own. Plus, she'd have at least one combat air patrol up, maybe two if she split her air wing. A carrier without planes in the air was a vulnerable carrier.

The first plane came up on her elevator as the other three began to descend. She reached down and gingerly took the tiny F-14 in her hand and brought it up to her face. At this size, it looked like what one would expect a child to be playing with. She knew better. This was a very real Tomcat, just one that was miniaturized. And it was black. Solid phantom black with red wingtips. Painted on either side of the nose just below the cockpit canopy in white, flowing cursive writing were the words "Razgriz One - Blaze".

For a moment she was conflicted. These were the pilots that she'd launched as her final act. The pilots that, above all else, she had to throw off her decks to get them to their target. It hurt to know that they were back with her, they deserve a carrier just as accomplished as they were. And she just wasn't...not really.

On the other hand, she was happy to have them back. There was something about the tiny black planes that gave her reassurance. They made her feel safe. It was like an unspoken promise was painted onto the wings of the tiny fighters. 'No matter what comes your way, we'll have your back'.

As of now though, she really didn't have the opportunity to question just how her pilots had found their way home. She just needed to get them into the air. They were useless just sitting on her decks. She grabbed the handle of her forward flight deck and raised it to a level position in front of her. The catapults steaming as they built up pressure, she slotted the tiny plane into position. The minute her hand left the craft its wings folder outward, its tiny control surfaces angling as the pilot inside completed the last of its pre-flight checks. As its engines spun up with a high pitched whine her jet blast deflectors deployed, keeping the rest of her flight deck safe from its jet wash.

She sighted up the horizon as her catapult reached its maximum launch pressure. Her eyes traced the approximate path the pilot would take as he took off. The seas were calm, and she was more stable than during a lot of launches she'd had to make. This would be simple.

"Razgriz One...LAUNCH!" She barked, the plane suddenly firing off the end of her flight deck. It dipped below the top of her deck as the pilot slammed the throttles forward. It soon built up enough airspeed to climb up and away, somehow growing two sizes as it pulled up into a steep climb.

She had no time to waste tracking the plane as it pulled up to its holding altitude. She had other planes to launch.

The others went up in order. Razgriz Two - Edge went up after her flight lead, the two pairing off as the loyal wingman watched the squadron leader's tail. Razgriz Three - Swordsman followed next and was quickly followed by Razgriz Four - Archer. The four planes formed up into a V-formation, tracing a lazy circle in the air above her. Already she could see further than before with the fighter's radars feeding information to her CIC. Not that if gave her much of anything of use immediately. She'd have to range her fighters out to see if there was anything of note. That said she couldn't send them out too far lest she leave herself undefended in case she was attacked. Not that she thought she was in any danger. Then again, she remembers thinking the same thing before that sub did her in via anti-ship missile.

So she decided to arrange her fighters in such a way that they could range out in a circular pattern away from her, but which left them close enough to respond within five minutes at cruise. Less than half that going full afterburner. She also split the fighters in teams of two to try and maximize the amount of ground she covered.

The first few orbits of her air wing gave her a substantial piece of information. That being that the tiny island she'd 'woken up' near to was apparently the only damn piece of real-estate in the general vicinity. Everything else was pure open ocean. She'd need to move if she was gonna figure out exactly where she was. Well that seemed easy enough. All she had to do was sail East to get to the coast of Osea, after all she'd been sunk in the northeastern chunk of the Ceres Ocean. Good news was that her compass still worked even without her GPS.

So she set course eastward, her fighters keeping their defensive-recon pattern as she cruised at a lazy 17 knots. She'd make it back home alright, she just needed to take it slow. It was actually rather nice to sail again. The small waves breaking against her bow as she cut through the waves, the breeze washing over her decks. It was a sensation any ship should enjoy, and it was something that she realized she'd been missing in that state of limbo she'd been trapped in.

She been steaming for all of half an hour when Razgriz 3 started picking up surface contacts on radar to the northeast. They weren't islands, definitely ships though. She had no idea what kind of vessels they were just from a radar return, so she vectored Razgriz 3 and 4 to take a closer look. Hopefully they'd be able to identify what they were.

As the two planes came closer and closer to the unidentified contacts, more and more began showing up. New of contacts sailed on the sea and danced in the sky. No not danced, brawled. Slow moving aircraft tangled with each other in a desperate dogfight, knocking their opponents out of the sky by the dozens. On the sea, small battle-groups clashed at ranges most nay captains would find absurd, slugging it out at naval gun range.

All the ships looked like Kestrel did. Humanoid, but distinctly comprised of hulls, screws, guns and superstructures. But some only fit that description in the loosest sense, looking like something straight out of a horror story. They looked like someone had taken a ship, turned it inside out and then went right back around and stuffed all their guts back in. Each of their decks was clad in hauntingly black steel, which itself looked half-rotted and rusted but never lost that color. Large gaping maws made a mockery of hydrodynamics, the white teeth giving a sharp contrast to the black hulls. Their stacks belched smoke just as black as their paint schemes which seemed to choke the very air above them.

Engaging them was another set of ship...women. Shipwomen. That's what she was going to call them. Shipwomen.

...well it makes sense!

Anyway, the other group of ship women looked decidedly more normal...well not quite normal but less...nightmarish.

Kestrel rubbed at her temples. This whole 'ships having a human body' thing was going to take some getting used to.

The fact that she was bracing herself for more weirdness was already worrying...

Okay, steer your mind back on track girl. You've got a job to do!

She once again focused on the other, less horrifying group of shipwomen. They looked old but young at the same time. Old because what weapons she could see looked like relics born of an era that had ended nearly 80 years ago. Cannons and torpedoes replaced CIWS and Missiles. Heavily armored battleships duked it out on the waves, their cannon blasts cratering the water as they fired salvo after salvo. Destroyers weaved between shell splashed hoping to get firing angles to launch wave after wave of torpedoes at the enemy.

And they were losing.

Outnumbered over two to one, the shipwomen were slowly being encircled by the Nightmare Fleet. The two carriers at the center of their formation were flinging planes into the air as fast as they could load and draw their...bows? Okay then...that's apparently how that worked. No matter how many they sent up, the enemy fliers outnumbered theirs, and they would eventually be completely overwhelmed.

Kestrel couldn't really stand by and watch as an entire fleet was annihilated, especially if it was by some crazy perversion of naval engineering.

...Hey. Those ships hadn't noticed Razgriz 3 and 4 yet had they?

-[]-[]-[]-

Akagi had long since stopped trying to follow the tenets of a proper carrier launch. Just draw and shoot, draw and shoot, and shoot. Get your planes in the air as fast as you can and try to match the swarm the Abyssals were fielding. That was all that mattered aside from throwing as much anti-aircraft fire up at the enemy. Get your planes in the air, engage the Abyssal fliers, keep the fleet safe.

The whole operation had gone pear-shaped in a heartbeat. They'd scrambled all the kanmusu stationed at Yokosuka after Iku had sent back images of a massive Abyssal fleet steaming north toward the home islands. Other fleets attached to JMSDF were on their way, but the Yokosuka fleet was the first one meet the enemy in open combat.

And the difference in numbers had made itself readily apparent.

Akagi wheeled her rudders full to starboard, barely dodging an Abyssal Dive Bomber as it tried to score a hit, the bomb splashing into the water near her port bow. Another divebomber was shredded by her anti-air guns before it could pull over into its dive.

"Agh! Come on! There's no end to these things!" Shouted Zuikaku as she loosed another flight of planes. Akagi wanted to say something to the other carrier but decided against it. She need to concentrate on directing her fighters if she wanted any chance of breaking through the Abyssal air assault.

A formation of three enemy torpedo bombers flew in from the left, heading straight for the two carriers. Akagi called out a warning to Zuikaku and the two began turning towards the enemy planes all the while blasting AA fire in their direction to try and keep them from dropping their torpedoes. One plane went down before it could release its payload, but the other two managed to get their fish in the water. Akagi and Zuikaka were already bow-on to the planes and their torpedoes streaked harmlessly past.

Just then a formation of dive-bombers managed to break through the two carrier's air defense screen and dove for them, a good fifteen planes in all. The two carriers wheeled their guns around towards the formation and started firing just a little too late as the bomber tipped over into their steep dives. Akagi turned hard left rudder, trying to shake off the bomber's aim. Four planes went barreling into the drink trailing fire and smoke. The rest of the planes managed to drop their bombs.

Most were misses, a good eight splashes bracketing them in as they weaved. But three managed to hit. Akagi screamed as one of the bombs hit her aft flight deck, punching through the wood and down multiple decks before detonating in her engine room. Her left leg was blown off and the other one left mangled. She collapsed onto the water as she began leaking vital fuel and oil into the sea. Zuikaku took two bombs, one to her fire directors blinding the poor girl as the other smashed up her flight deck, essentially making it impossible for her to launch any planes.

But while Zuikaku was still mobile if largely blind and unable to launch planes, Akagi was dead in the water. Her engines were shot to hell and back and she was taking on water. Her fuel lines were ruptured and the planes she had in the sky couldn't land with the huge hole in her deck. She still had her guns and fire directors operational, but for the most part she was a sitting duck for the next wave of abyssal planes.

She saw them, eight more dive bombers heading straight for her. Zuikaku tried to fire back, but without proper sight and having sailed further from Akagi she couldn't draw an accurate bead on them. Akagi let her guns fire away, desperate to hit them before they could turn into their dives. They drew closer, almost laughing in the face of her anti-aircraft fire. She could see the bombs slung under their wings, looing terrifyingly large.

This was it. This is how she'd die. To carrier-launched dive bombers.

She lowered her gaze as she prepared to face the bomb's fury.

She'd fought to the end though. It would be a good death.

Her head jerked back up when she heard the sound o explosions above her. What had once been Abyssal planes had been reduced to so much shrapnel. She heard the telltale mounting roar of jet engines long before she caught sight of the fighters. Two solid black F-14 Tomcats, each looking way too small to be the full-sized aircraft, streaked by overhead. They came over low and fast, their wings angled as far back as they would go, their engines burning at full afterburner as they climbed back up into the fight. The stricken carrier jumped as she heard the crack of a sonic boom pass over her decks.

The fighters split up, one heading straight towards the sky while the other rolled over the top of his climb to get onto the tail of two Abyssal fighters. A quick burst from the Tomcat's nose-mounted cannon shredded the fighters, leaving them to tumble into the sea. The first fighter continued his climb upwards before he leveled out and turned back into the fight. A missile dropped away from the F-14 and slammed into an abyssal dive bomber as it tried to get a bead on Nagato.

Akagi watched, nearly awe struck, as the two fighters made mince-meat out of the Abyssals that had been hounding the Yokousuka fleet for the past half-hour. With their high-powered after-burning engines, the Tomcats could entirely dictate the fight with guns and missiles. They owned the skies and they made the Abyssals pay for even thinking of entering their domain. Now with their formations in disarray, Akagi and Suikaku's remaining fighters had the breathing room they needed to start turning the tide.

"This is OFS Kestrel to unidentified surface vessels..." A new voice suddenly crackled over Akagi's radio in English as two more F-14s came streaking in from the southwest.

"... looks like you girls could use a hand."