Weldon's Plot Bunny Vault Chapter 15: Dreading The Abyss 1 (KanColle), a Worm + X-overs Crossover fanfic

Dreading The Abyss

Chapter 1

Hello World, I'm Me

You know that feeling you get when you're in the middle of taking a step on the sidewalk and you end up walking on an ocean?

No? Just me then?

Huh.

Well, I'm standing on an ocean.

Yup, walking on water.

Just like a certain supposed offspring of a mythological being.

Only I'm pretty sure Hazuz didn't have gigantic knockers. Though, rain check on that, I don't think the Nasuverse has gotten to him yet.

Yeah, I'm now an absurdly stacked chick, quite hippy, standing on an ocean. Waist long, navy blue hair, and eyes that are essentially invisible in my reflection only because they're the same color as the gods damned sea.

Standing on a fucking OCEAN!

Yes, that most definitely bears reiterating three times!

You get two guesses as to what I've become.

If you guessed angel, you need to get your head checked.

Right. I'm a shipgirl. And if my chest and hips are anything to go by, I have to be pretty damn big.

I'm a Battleship.

...probably.

Hey, I wouldn't put it past whatever brought me here making me an oil tanker, or similar, for teh lulz.

Survive and thrive in a world of sentient, booby warships as an oil tanker! Good luck! MUAHAHAHAHAHA!

Yeah, no.

Okay, well, there's one easy way to answer this.

Summon my rigging.

Now how the fuck do I do th-

Oh.

Oh.

OH.

That is surprisingly easy. Just… do it. The rigging is part of me so I just needed to… do it.

Like moving an arm or a leg. It's thoughtless. A matter of willpower.

I'm almost entirely encased in my rigging. There's so many sections it's like a starfish wrapped around my body with a massive section protecting my back, chest, and hips.

However it fails the armored woman check despite my 6ft thick nanotube weave plating because it leaves some of my bountiful cleavage and the entirety of my… surprisingly toned stomach open.

Le sigh.

I've got 18 turrets. And a flight deck.

Now that might sound like I'm a carrier, except...

Those turrets are sixteen triple barrel, rotary, rapid fire railguns and two mother fucking plasma cannons.

...I'm probably not a carrier.

Let's see, 1000 crew (Hello little guys and gals!), 32 anti air laser blisters, a digital warfare suite, sub drone launchers, heli drone launchers, jet drones for the flight deck-

Waitaminutehere.

I recognize my specs.

…

ROB, I could kiss you.

I'm a Poseidon Class Dreadnought.

A ship class I made up.

Created by a fictional humanity I also made up. Dreadnoughts were intended to be the response to the proliferation of battleships. Somebody in my fictional humanity decided to go big or go home when they could've used carriers and was all out of bubble gum or fucks to give about those glorified floating airstrips.

...On reflection it is highly likely I now have some biases that my ship class would have as a shipgirl. Oye.

Anyways, I was designed to take Tank, Spank, Dakka, and Aerial Superiority and roll them all into one supership.

My class was intended to sail straight into an enemy fleet while countering, ignoring, or tanking everything they could throw at me, then make them go away from point blank range. Just like old flagship broadsiders from the Age of Sail.

Or serve as stupidly long range bombardment.

Or act like a carrier. Despite my designer's dislike of the flattop, they couldn't ignore the advantage they provided.

I can also open up and serve as a mobile drydock.

The only thing I can't do is fire missiles and that's because those are on my jet drones.

And I have nukes too.

…

RIP all the Abyssals.

After spending five hours reveling in the sheer AWESOME that is being the manifestation of 1,700+ feet long and 356,000 tons of raw bullshit, talking to my crew, and running checks on all my systems, I am ready to take canon, bend it over, and shove my spinal mounted Big MAC up its butt.

But which country to go to? Japan's getting brutally wrecked by the Abyssals, but I've got enough guns to make a redneck reach multiple orgasms.

…

Home of the brave, land of the free, toters of guns it is!

I'll fit right in and be able to make multiple Iowa class battleships look small and underequipped in every way!

...That's pretty much my real reason for going to the U.S. if I'm being honest.

Actually where the hell am I?

Huh. I've got GPS transponders!

Aight I am apparently smack dab in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

Only 300 (ish) miles south of Hawaii.

Wasn't that place captured by the Abyssals?

...Well I suppose there's worse ways to introduce yourself to a country.

I turn to point at Honolulu and engage my slipstream drive. 100 knots top speed and no screw props, eat your hearts out other shipgirls!

Wooow Hawaii is screwed up.

I've reached the 100 mile mark and found the sky in front of me dark with storm clouds that look like they were painted in ash.

And… raining ash.

There's a few dozen humanoid figures approaching me from that direction, all in formation and spewing the same ash.

Gee, I wonder if I've managed to attract the attention of some Abyssals!

At least, I think the Abyssals can see me. That has to be why they're heading my way, surely.

Note sarcasm.

Frankly if their radar couldn't see me I'd be concerned. I'm not exactly stealthy.

In the same way the mantle of the planet isn't exactly cold.

The one thing the Poseidon literally couldn't accomplish was being sneaky. I'm kind of designed to attract fire, not avoid it.

Anyways, here they come.

One of my railgun turrets target each incoming Abyssal and automatically adjust for the severely limited drop the rounds will experience during their mach 15 travel.

Of course they're in my range. My guns max out at 150 miles.

For a guaranteed hit.

If I don't need to fuck up a given target in particular I can easily make a small country uninhabitable from upwards of 500 miles.

More if I take suborbital travel into account.

Then there's my Big MAC, which should only be fired when you don't care about fifty miles in every direction around the target existing anymore. That includes the ground or the ocean underneath it.

Somebody (note: me) really wanted the effects of a supernuke without stepping on the Geneva Convention's toes, I guess.

And unlike a battleship, I'm running a supremely advanced computer suite with which to guide all my armaments.

I could probably fake being a science fiction starship to be honest. All I'm missing is the drives.

I've got a shield.

All of this really boils down to one, rather important thing;

I won't miss.

Now here's my question. I don't know what KanColle flavor I'm in, exactly. The fact that Hawaii is under Abyssal control tells me something, but not a lot.

Are Abyssal shipgirls actually evil or just corrupted?

And if they're the corrupted variant, can I cure them?

I don't have any mystical mumbo jumbo on board, the Poseidon was designed for a purely technological universe.

Then again I've currently got breasts that weigh 70,000 tons, each, so what do I know.

The Poseidon, or, I guess me now, comes with quite a few bays and decks for certain things.

Including an Engineering Deck.

My point is, I've got nanotechnology on board. Moreover I have a 100 strong contingent of marines with technology that, even if Abyssals are crewed by Xenomorphs, allows them to curbstomp them.

Like, say, in a boarding action.

Hmm…

On second thought I swap out the rounds in my railguns from Armor Piercing/Explosive to EMP.

If I knock them all out, I can just sail up and board them, then possibly convert them, at my own pace.

Yup. Definitely gonna do that. I like this plan.

They've crossed into 30 miles now. Man they're at full fucking steam ahead aren't they?

This is really gonna suck, then.

For them.

I turn my body sideways and kill my main drives. I'm presenting my full broadside to them, allowing all my railguns to target them.

You might think the guns on my other side would be unable to fire past their brethren, and on any other ship, you'd be right.

My turrets are on variable height platforms, though.

One railgun turret for each, all EMP. Five shot spread on all barrels.

Execute.

BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM

If the atmosphere is intact around me anymore I will eat my comm tower.

Huh. Turns out my head is my comm tower. And my secondary bridge. Guess I can't eat it.

The primary one is… right next to my heart?

The heart that is, through some kind of quantum entanglement dickery, also 6 Arc Reactors?

Shipgirls are bullshit, yo.

And yes, I know they're not actually Arc Reactors. They're Stellarators, but I'm a smartass at the best of times, so I named the custom design after Tony's infamous spinny blue thing. Bite me.

...My bridge is under my other boob isn't i-

My thought is interrupted and my hunch is answered when a huge wave of air slams into my body from all directions, shifting me a little on the waves.

So I won't have to eat my own head.

Yay.

By the time I look back at the Abyssal fleet, my rounds have already hit them.

Hard.

They're still travelling forwards, but swiftly slowing down. Their eyes are droopy and several have already fallen asleep on their feet.

I grin at the single girl still standing, though she looks weary. Her body is surrounded by a blood red shield and she's snarling at me.

I found a Princess.

Which one was supposed to be set up in Hawaii again?

Shit, hell if I remember. I never got that far in the game and I'm not looking at the only one I'd recognize from the anime. Cute and cuddly Hoppou this chick is not.

I reload my railguns with EMPs.

And aim all of them at her.

If another 5 shot spread doesn't take down her shield then I'll just fire a plasma cannon her way.

Yet again the atmosphere around me ceases to exist as 48 shells, times 5, break the sound barrier 15 times over.

A couple of seconds later, her shield gets lit up like the Fourth of July.

It takes twenty of the disruptive electromagnetic blasts to take her shield out.

Damn. Tough bitch.

Still, there's 28 more exploding in her face.

And oh yeah, four more waves of 48 shells each behind them.

Yeah, she's asleep now. If she's got a crew, that many EMPs of that strength at such close range knocked them out too.

Again, unless they're Xenomorphs. It wouldn't surprise me in the least.

I grin viciously as I lower my railguns back to level and swing around. My slipstream drive engages, pushing me towards the disabled battlegroup.

No more Abyssals showed up besides a couple destroyers and a sub.

The sub thought she could sneak up on me.

Ahahahahahahahahaha.

I have every sensor available to a fictional 21st.5 century human race. Sonar and uLIDAR are but two.

I was sorely tempted to let her fire off a torpedo at me just to see her face when it went 'plink' off my armor, but I just ended up launching a small squad of sub drones to EMP her face instead.

The destroyers that arrived and the few in the fleet I actually just vaporized. They didn't look like girls, so I was decently safe in my assumption that they were true Abyssals.

And if you think it's not possible to vaporize 2,500 tons of metal, I raise you 48 gods damned railguns.

Anyways, I'm now towing an unconscious, nuclear missile equipped goth loli in a swimsuit behind me. She's being held above water by a contingent of my sub drones, the only evidence of their presence the subtle golden glow they give off.

I'd better handle the Princess first. She's the biggest threat to me here. 100,000 tons and 700ft length with a whole bunch of really big guns. Battleship Princess, then.

I said the biggest threat to me, not that she is a threat. Maybe if there were six of her I'd be remotely worried.

I sidle up to her at extremely low speed. I put an arm out and grab her shoulder to steady her and keep us connected.

My marines scramble down my arm and try to find an entryway.

Apparently there's one in her ear.

Eww.

I try not to throw up and just nod at the group of armored faeries.

Four of them approach the door, using the thermal lances on their palms to start cutting through the amazingly thick hull plating.

The Princess snaps awake and screams.

I tighten my grip on her shoulder even as she locks her eyes on me and growls.

Yeah, growls. Literally.

The faeries ignore her and continue to carry out the operation.

She starts shaking her head, trying to dislodge the faeries cutting into her head, but they've deployed magnetic anchors and keep going.

The rest of the marine faeries have their plasma rifles unerringly trained on the door. The moment it's cut through they're ready to kill.

The door clangs into an interior hallway, so loud even I can hear it, and then there's silence.

What the hell is going-

Suddenly a radio signal emanates from the Princess. She snarls at me, grinning victoriously.

And explosions erupt across every other Abyssal shipgirl.

"NO!" I yell, spinning my head around to look at the now sinking fleet I sought to rescue.

I spin back around at the Princess and glare bloody murder at her. "They will NOT sink this day!"

I scramble all my sub drones. The magazine holds a couple thousand.

The things flit out to the sinking ships, some of who are already underwater, and latch on to their hulls.

Just like the subgirl I'm still towing, they get raised to the surface.

The Princess' eyes widen at my victorious grin. The shipgirls start bobbing up to the top of the water, held there by yellow sub drones.

They're all safe.

Princess snarls and begins to swivel a few cannons towards other members of her fleet.

"I see," I say, looking at her sadly. "They really are enslaved."

With that I look down at re faeries still on my arm and grin evilly. "Full capture. Kill all adversaries. All methods authorized. Lethal authorized."

The squadron of marines salutes me and then charges towards the Princess' ear.

She doesn't abandon her quest to target her fellow shipgirls. This allows my faeries in, and she gives me one final snarl of victory as her guns go off.

Cue my point defense laser blisters melting her projectiles midair.

Her eyes shoot wide open and she has just enough time to stare at me in surprise before my faeries reach her bridge.

"Das vi dania, asshole," I inform her.

The sounds of plasma fire emanate from all over her frame as my faeries execute her crew. The ones in the bridge seize control.

And then her previous countenance is gone. Her eyes soften, the red drains from her irises, and her snarling face relaxes.

The black smoke stops pouring out of her. The dark metal of her phantom ship body fades to normal metal, if darker than most. And the deformities of her human form crumble into nothing.

She looks at me with awe now. The sounds of my marines cheering comes from her hull.

I hesitantly lessen my grip on her shoulder even as my marines begin pouring back out of her head and across my arm. "You gonna behave?" I ask her.

She hastily nods. My marines don't care. Tough little bastards.

I incline my head slightly. "Good."

All my marines have returned across my arm from their raid, so I let go of her shoulder. My guns are ready to swivel towards her and blow her to kingdom come if she so much as twitches in a way I don't like.

She doesn't. She just watches me, warily but also… happily?

I raise my eyebrows at her.

She smiles at me. "Thank you for showing me the light," she intones.

Holy crap she sounds like a gods damned angel.

My only initial reaction to her voice is to blink surprise. "You're… welcome," I slowly say.

She nods again and slightly steps back. "Fix them too," she pleads with me.

I grimace. "It's your own damn fault."

She looks down at the water. "I know," she quietly mumbles.

I huff. At least she acknowledges it. "I was going to anyways," I inform her.

She gulps and meets my eyes. "Thank you."

Compared to the Princess, the crews of the other Abyssals barely make my marines break a sweat.

Seriously, they're actually complaining that it's too easy.

Why did I design the Poseidon to carry marines equivalent to the soldiers of XCom?

...Oh right, because they are capable of fighting off a worldwide alien invasion.

Twice.

I roll my eyes and, on the next return, split them up into squads to conquer multiple ships at once.

They still say it's too easy, but at least stopped bothering me about it.

Crazy idiots the lot of them.

Every other shipgirl is still knocked out from my EMP barrage. Even if some of them might've woken up, they did just have gigantic holes torn in them via internal sabotage.

None of them are waking up anytime soon.

I still manage to confirm their converted state once the Abyssal… I'm still just gonna keep calling it ash, leaves them. Surprisingly even the three carriers' head octopus things crumble away.

I now am standing on the water over three unconscious, mortally wounded carriers.

Good to know this entire experience still sounds insane. If you can wonder whether you're crazy you're not and all that.

There's a surprisingly high number of American ships in the water around me. I wonder if that has anything to do with Pearl Harbor being on Oahu?

Meh, I'll find out later.

None of them are seaworthy except the Princess. She's staying out of my way as much as she can, though I do catch her eyeing my guns (literally, figuratively, and breastily) quite often.

Oh gods I'm being shipcrushed on by a fucking ex-Abyssal Princess.

Speaking of said Princess, she doesn't register as any ship model I've got in my surprisingly comprehensive database.

She's got elements from other ships, sure, but she's a third my displacement. It kinda looks like someone tried to build a dreadnought without understanding human technology and-

Wait just a fucking minute.

"Are you an alien?" I ask her, abruptly shattering the silence that's befallen us since I converted her.

She jumps up on the ocean in surprise, letting out a disturbingly cute 'eep!'.

No I didn't intentionally time it so she was staring at me when I asked her, and anyone who says otherwise is a liar.

The blush on her cheeks at being caught staring is also not making her any cuter.

Nope.

Gods she's like a destroyer with the body of a massive battleship.

"N-no," she stammers, staring at my eyes now. "Why?"

I gesture to her rigging and body. "I don't recognize your model."

She looks down at herself and freezes, gulping, then hesitantly looks back up at me. "Oh," she squeaks out.

Girl's terrified now. I sigh and rub the bridge of my nose with my fingers. "Okay, why are you scared this time?"

Another gulp. "You'll kill me," she says.

I raise an eyebrow. "I think by capturing and turning you instead of blowing you out of existence before I've shown I can display restraint."

No, shut up, peanut gallery. I can show restraint, I just usually don't believe in the concept of fun seatbelts.

She shakes her head adamantly. "No, you will."

I sigh again, longer this time. "You're a member of my fleet now. I won't kill you."

She gasps and stares at me. "W-what?"

"You, Princess, are a member of my new fleet," I repeat, gesturing to the holy shit there's so many unconscious, burnt out shipgirls around us.

"Y-you won't kill me?" she asks, still nervous.

"No!" I exclaim, throwing up my hands. "I promise!"

She gulps and seems to make a decision. She straightens her back, looks me right in the eyes, and speaks. "I'm constructed from the remains of the fallen."

I blink, parsing that sentence through my head.

…

Fuck.

My expression can't help but darken. Seeing this, Princess recoils and tries to tighten up into a ball. She even starts whimpering.

"I'm not mad at you," I calmly inform her, though my tone still sounds like something that would give even Hades pause.

She abruptly stops whimpering and slightly unfurls. "Y-you're n-not-t?" she asks, trembling.

I shake my head, putting my arm down on the final shipgirl in the fleet, another Battleship. "No," I assure the Princess. "The way you act, I'm pretty sure you're not mentally any older than a destroyer," I begin to explain. "How long ago were you…" I trail off, trying to get the bad taste out of my mouth, "...built?"

Princess bites her lip and stares off into the setting sun. "A year," she admits.

My eyebrows shoot straight up and I snap my gaze onto her. "Wait, really?" I'm immensely surprised.

She dejectedly nods, bumping her clenched fists against her thighs.

"Damn," I mutter, shaking my head. "Then, uh, how old do you feel?"

She bites her tongue. "Thirteen."

I nod. An immature thirteen year old. Seems pretty accurate.

Except for her smoking hot, very-much-looks-twenty-or-older body, which is… that's gonna be a hell of an issue.

"So like a light cruiser then," I reasonably summarize her mental situation. While I say this I'm extending hands to the two shipgirls with boarding parties remaining. The marines travel up my arms at the same time the ash floats away from the ships.

"Y-Yeah," Princess agrees, letting out a breath of relief.

"That's okay," I tell her, and stand up. I rapidly spin around and approach her, holding out my arms. "I'll be your mothership."

Yeah, I'm offering to be her mother, but I figure I'm already in that boat (eyyy a pun!) with the rest of them by default due to my tonnage, so why not her too?

She stands there, eyes wide, shocked to hell. "R-really?" she barely whispers. "Really?!"

I nod affirmatively. "Really really."

Tears burst from her eyes, she erupts into a huge blubbering smile, and she launches herself at me. I accept the hug and draw her into my bountiful chest, then begin to comb my hands through her hair as she bawls her eyes out.

The only reason I didn't move is because of some weird shipgirl metaphysical bullshit that says that even though two 70,000 ton pieces of hull met a 100,000 ton ship going at least 20 knots, it's all okay and sufficient velocity was bled off on impact because they're boobs.

I'm never gonna get used to this.