Jackson and Swayback (Kancolle)

	Leaning out over the rail, Jackson sighed. Micronesia, gone. Polynesia, gone. The Philippines, in constant peril. Taiwan, less an island and more a bunker riddled with angry Chinese. Japan, once an island paradise, now riddled with defenses and confusion. All that was warm and good in the Pacific was slowly hardening to stone, and it angered him. Three years bumming around this beautiful ocean on Navy ships had taught him the good in the peace here, and now that it was being sapped away there was nothing he could do.

	Fighting was loosing it's appeal. One could only see the same island so many times before the sight of a lagoon filled with blood and oil before it started to make them sick.

	"Hey."

	Turning, Jackson looked at the girl behind him. Girl was the wrong word, he supposed after a moment of examination though. She might have looked young, but there was something about her that warned the wolf in Jackson that she could stand alone. Long, waved brown hair fluttered on her back, and her skin was a fine, dusky color. Gray eyes stared out at him, flickers of color on the rims daring Jackson to gaze further. He knew, without doubt, this woman wasn't a member of this ship or it's crew. Her movements were a heartbeat out of synch with the roll, her feet spread wrong for this deck.

	"Afternoon." Jackson replied, courteous. An armed society was a polite society, and after the Abyssals had tried to bored this ship the rule of the day for Marines was always ready.

	Walking up to the rail, the girl leaned on it herself and sighed. "Just one of those days, hmm?"

	"Just enough." Jackson said, sighing. "Just enough."

	"Know where we're headed next?"

	"Supposed to be some rock in the Bismarck Archipelago. Probably just going to be another trip to sweep up the ashes of the bombardment and play a merry game of whack-a-mole."

	The young woman blinked. "Sorry, forgot this was a Marine ship for a minute."

	Jackson's eyebrows rose for a moment, and he pointed to the EGA on his sleeve, then at the Lightning II-B sitting in deck parking on the flight deck.

	"Shush!" the girl said, sticking a finger at Jackson's face. "You try keeping a dozen Fletchers from loosing their shit during a shore bombardment, *then* you can talk!"

	Chuckling, Jackson slowly smiled and pushed her finger off to the side. "Maybe when you get to keep a rifle squad using rifles for more than ten minutes we can negotiate, hmm?"

	"Ha!" the woman laughed, smile brimming over now. "You got a name then?"

	"Jackson Tilias."

	"Well then, Jackson, just call me Swayback." the young woman said, grinning. "See you when we're done with this island!"

---

	Groaning, Jackson looked at the Quonset hut that was his squad's new home away from home. The AESAN forces that were supposed to be keeping the Bismarcks locked up like an abbesses' communion wine had failed miserably, and the whole joint was swarming with leakers. Again. For the fourth fucking time in two years. Jesus.

	It made a certain perverse sense that the MEU had been re-based to this godforsaken atol as a semi-permanent "Handle It" force until the Army figured out how to garrison a small island that frequently lacked the comforts of home. As a point of order, an infantry batallion was getting rebased to here "soon" with added flak and anti-ship shit. Jackson couldn't give a fuck, though- he swore this island got bigger every time he fought on it.

	"Hey!" someone called. "Hey, Jackson! Over here!"

	Turning, Jackson was surprised to get body-slammed to the ground in a giant hug by... someone. He'd be the first to admit it was hard to send three hundred pounds of Marine and equipment to the ground, but somehow this person could do it as effortlessly as a ten-thousand ton truck.

	"...Swayback?" Jackson said, brushing aside some of her brown, gunsmoke-scented hair. "The heck? Navy-types aren't supposed to be on the island yet- not until the concrete sets on the new tunnel plugs."

	"We've got dispensions." Swayback said, boinking her head off his helmet. "Hell, we pounded the joint hard enough."

	Behind Swayback, Jackson distantly saw a running Petty Officer in an ill-fitting plate carrier and old old M4 trying to desperatly do damage control on the situation. "Miss Salt Lake City, please, wait! That's not the way to the... docks..."

	"Aw, hell." Swayback muttered, rolling over in Jackson's arms. "PO Richards, I told you once, I told you a thousand times- I can handle myself!"

	"But- but- but- Miss Salt Lake City, we need you to complete the After Action Reports!" the Petty Officer stammered, before Jackson managed to pry himself and Swayback off the ground. Moments later, the Marine was looking down into the Petty Officer's eyes, and quickly remembered that Marines have a habitual dislike of the Navy.

	"Carol! Ackman!" Jackson yelled at the Quonset hut. "We got us some Navy clerk who got lost! Do me a favor, and find him his rowboat!"

	As two burly Marines lumbered out of the impromptu barracks to 'escort' the PO back to Navyland, the idiot had to yell. "I'm a Petty Officer! You can't do this to me!" which earned a round of chuckles. Walking over, Jackson just glared at him.

	"You E-4. Me E-5. Shoo."

	Turning back to Swayback, Jackson shrugged. "Sorry about that. Now, as you were saying, something about a dispensation?"

	Swayback just huffed, and started walking away. "Never mind."

	"Hey, Swayback, ease up there!" Jackson said, catching up to her. "Something the matter?"

	"Yeah." she said, grumbling. "My back is killing me from all the shore bombardment, I have to do fucking paperwork before I get to the docks, and those god damn ass-munching soddomizing clerks won't leave me alone!"

	Taking a moment to filter this, Jackson patted the girl on the back. "Well then, mind if I let you in on a little secret?"

	"What?" Swayback asked, close to crying.

	"They never gave you a berth, did they?"

	"No..."

	"Well, we've got a few spare bunks. You can stay with us."

	"And the escorts?"

	"Sure. And the escorts. Just... one question."

	"Let me guess. 'Oh, you're really a ship? Gosh, it must suck and/or be awesome to be saved from Davy Jones' radioactive locker!', right?"

	Jackson laughed for a long minute. "No! Jesus, why would I ask that? It's just that most of us snore, and I wondered if you'd mind."

	Blushing, Swayback gulped. "Uh... wow. Didn't expect that. No, I don't mind. So do the destroyers, come to think of it."

	"Good. Now, let's get you to the docks."

---

	That night, the ad-hoc base commander was informed his Marines section was making enough noise to disturb the sleep of sailors on the LCS out in the harbor. After ritualistically throwing it in the burn bin, he proceded to look over the reports that once again scheeming clerks were threatening to overrun all that was good and holy in the world. Rubberstamping it and the attached memo that technically put the Shipgirl quarters smack in the middle of Marine Country, he forward it all out, put in his own earplugs, and went to sleep himself.