Maple sluts 2

Canadian Ship Girls 2, Edit 1.

	Twenty thousand sets of eyes stared at Ontario as she stood at center ice. Twenty thousand people froze in shock. For her part, Ontario was surprised too. As the emotions and confusion of her emergence faded, Ontario started to feel small. She knew she was a warship but at the moment she was also experiencing her first moments as… as a person. The moment lasted for a few more seconds, before the singer of the national anthem stepped towards her, microphone still on.

	“Uh… hello,” she said to Ontario, the small brunette girl holding the microphone between them, “Who… who are you?”

	Ontario blinked for the first time in her… life. Then she blinked again. “C53 HMCS Ontario at your service,” she said, her own voice surprising her as she spoke for aloud for the first time, “who are you?”

	“I’m Maria, Maria Clark,” said the girl, holding out her hand for Ontario to take, “Nice to meet you.”

	Ontario looked down at the hand, then back up to Maria, memories of her crew exchanging them flashing through her mind. She started to shake Maria’s hand, but then suddenly remembered that she was still wearing her gear. She wasn’t sure, but somehow she knew that she probably shouldn’t shake her hand with it on. Dismissing the rig in a sparkle of light, Ontario then reached out to shake her hand.

	“Nice to meet you too,” said Ontario, taking Maria’s hand and shaking it. It felt…warm. It wasn’t like her boilers starting up or her guns firing which were much different, hotter and more sudden. This was just… warm.

	It was then that a nicely dressed employee came out on the ice, the roar of such a large crowd talking at even muted voices already washing over them.

	“Uhm… ladies…” said the man, “If we could get you off of the ice now it’s time for the game to start. Ms. Clark your suite is waiting and Ms. … uh… Ms. Ontario if you’d come with me we can find you a place to wait…”

	“She can come with me,” said Maria, moving and grabbing hold of Ontario’s forearm, “And watch the game until she has to go.” She turned to Ontario, “You like hockey right?”

	Ontario paused at the question. She remembered her crew liking hockey, there were always wagers going on about who would win this season and hopes that they would get back to port in time to catch a big game. But she was a ship; she’d never actually seen a hockey game before. Her thought process was interrupted when Maria started pulling her along behind her.

	“Of course you like hockey,” she said, the man from the staff seeming a bit exasperated as he followed along, “You’re Canadian.”

	That statement stunned Ontario long enough for Maria to pull Ontario off the ice and into the guts of the arena, where they were suddenly quickly but politely surrounded by staff and security as they made their way up and outwards towards wherever they were being taken. Though she’d only been around for bare minutes at this point, Ontario was already having something of an existential crisis. She was a ship, a proud warship of the RCN not a person… right?

	 She pondered this as they were led to more public areas, the security now necessary to keep back the mostly polite onlookers as they made their way to a more reserved area, all but two the security turning around and stopping the following crowd as they made their way down a long line of rooms to the one at the end. As the two security guards stopped at the door, Maria led Ontario into the room, which while large, was only occupied by a few people.

	Those people stopped and looked at them, just as she did in return. There were five of them; one middle aged couple, a boy around Maria’s age, a younger girl and one elderly man. Ontario felt a little bit awkward as they stared at her. Luckily for her Maria seemed to be on the ball.

	“Ontario, this is my family, family Ontario,” said Maria, now pointing out individual members, “Mom, Dad, Grandpa Jim, Daisy and Mark.”

	“Hello…” said Ontario as the five continued to stare at her.

	It was the old man who got up first, walking over with the help of a cane.

	“You really Ontario?” he asked her, slightly stooped back not lessening the solid look in his eye.

	“Yes Sir,” she said, something in his eyes reminding her of her old crew.

	“Leading Seaman Walter Clark,” he said to her, offering his other hand, “Pleasure to meet you. Served on HMCS Capilano during the war, saw you a few times afterwards.”

	“Nice to meet you too,” said Ontario, starting to relax a little bit.

	“Come on come on,” he said, waving her towards the seats hanging above the ice, “The games about to start.” Following after the old man, Ontario heard Maria and the rest of the family begin talking quietly and quickly. This was all entirely new to her, so she didn’t know what to do besides follow after him.

	Taking a seat next to the old man, she looked out wide eyed at the arena. It was so high! She’d been in storms and waves before, but the perspective of this was just so different than anything she’d ever experienced.

	“So,” said the old man, handing her a brown bottle with “Canadian” printed on the side, “You’re one of those shipgirl’s we’ve been hearing about?”

	“I… I guess so?” said Ontario, looking at the open bottle before sniffing it carefully, “Are there more like me?”

	“Yeah,” said the form Seaman, popping open a brown bottle for himself “Or so they say.” He turned to look at her, holding out the bottle, “Cheers.”

	Ontario looked at the man, looked down at her bottle and then lifted it up and held it towards him. “Cheers?”

	“Cheers,” said the old man, clinking their bottles together and then taking a pull from it.

	“Grandpa,” came Maria’s voice from behind, “You shouldn’t be drinking, your doctor said it was bad for you.”

	The man gave out a contented sigh as he pulled the bottle down, keeping it away from his Granddaughters hand. “Maria,” he said, “I’m ninety four years old, a beer or two more isn’t going to keep me around much less than not having them. Let an old man enjoy what he can.”

	Maria harrumphed a bit, but settled in next to her grandfather dotingly. The conversation also made Ontario remember something else. Many of the men who had served on her, many of the men she remembered as young and vital were now elderly or even passed away already. The thought was… sobering. She took the bottle in her hand and put it to her lips.

	It came down seconds later, her body doing a new and unfamiliar sensation, coughing.

	“What… what’s that,” she said, holding out the bottle, “It tastes horrible!”

	“It’s Molson’s,” said Walter, “One of the most Canadian of beers. Try it some more, you’ll like it.”

	“Grandpa…” said Maria.

	“Shh,” he said, “The game’s about to start.” He turned to Ontario. “You’re a Maple Leafs fan right?”

	“Who are they playing?” asked Ontario, looking down at the teams.

	“The Canadians,” replied Maria.

	“FUCK QUEBEC!” yelled Ontario before she even realized what she was saying. She immediately put her hands over her mouth and felt her…cheeks, warming into what felt like an inferno.

	That got a laugh from Walter, a stare from Maria and a chuckle from behind her. Turning, Ontario saw Maria’s father laughing as well, her mother covering her mouth primly…but she could see that the corner of her mouth was upturned.

	“I think you’ll fit right in here,” said Walter, holding up his bottle again.

	Ontario didn’t say anything, but she did tap her bottle against his. After that things seemed to settle down a little bit. Maria’s parents eventually came down to watch the game with them, her little sister stayed up at the top eating what she eventually found out were potato chips and her brother kept glancing at her while trying to watch the game. When she asked Maria about it she said he was at “that age” and she shouldn’t worry about it too hard.

	The game itself was an experience. At the same time that she was seeing things for herself for the first time, Ontario was remembering her crew talking about older games, putting words and rules to maneuvers and calls that she could see. At first she started out quiet, merely watching and trying to understand what was going on. By the time the third period came around, she was cheering and yelling and booing right along with the rest of the Clarks as the Maple Leafs and Canadians had a hard fought match, 1-1 going into the final period.

	Several minutes into the period, Ontario and the Clark’s heard someone politely clear their throat behind them, causing them all to turn despite the intense action currently down on the ice. Standing there in the entrance to the room was a young man of middle height, his hair shaved into close stubble and wearing a uniform remarkably similar to hers. Ontario immediately popped up from her seat and saluted the man.

	“C53, Cruiser HMCS Ontario reporting for duty sir,” she said, holding the salute until the man almost bemusedly returned it.

	“Lieutenant Anderson,” replied the man, “of the Royal Canadian Navy at your service.” He looked around at the Clarks, all of them sitting in the forward seats. “Would you mind if you and I had a talk Ms.?”

	“No not at all,” said Ontario, glancing back at the ongoing hockey match, “Could…could we stay here though? I’d like to see the end of the game.”

	Anderson looked at her for a second, expression unreadable and then nodded, a small smile appearing on his face. “Sure,” he said, gesturing to the row of stools along the bar behind the other seats which would give them a little bit of privacy, “We can talk here.”

	Ontario took a seat next to the man, still able to see the game which she watched mostly out of the corner of her eye, something she found strange but useful.

	“So,” said Lt. Anderson, glancing briefly at the bottle in Ontario’s hand, “You’re C53?”

	“Yes, C53 Ontario” said Ontario, looking at the bottle and then offering it to Anderson, “Do you want one? There’s some more.”

	“I probably shouldn’t while I’m on duty,” said Anderson.

	Ontario widened her eyes and looked down at the bottle. “Oh no…” she said, setting it down, “I…I shouldn’t be drinking should I, I’m a warship I’m on duty…” She felt a strange feeling in her…stomach, something twisty and tight. Images flashed through her head of crewmen doing similar things. Nerves, she had nerves.

	Anderson immediately raised his hand at her and waved it, trying to get her to calm down. “I don’t think you need to worry about that,” he said to her, “I don’t think anybody expected you to be on duty so fast. In fact, I’ll have one too. We can watch the game, drink a few beers, have our talk and then head out ok?”

	“O-ok,” said Ontario, gingerly reaching her hand back to the bottle as if it might bite her, “You’re sure?”

	“I’m sure,” said Anderson, giving her a reassuring smile as he got down of the stool and went to get his own beer, the murmurs of the Clarks suddenly overwhelmed by a cheer from the crowd. Turning to watch the ice, Ontario saw one of the Maple Leafs forwards dashing down the ice, puck in front of him with only one defender and the goalie in the way.

	“Go, go!” she found herself crying out with the rest of the stadium as he managed to get past the defender and then slammed the puck into the goal just past the goalies outstretched hand. There was a loud roar from the crowd, Ontario standing up out of her seat to cheer along with them.

	As the cheering died down, Ontario finally remembered that Lt. Anderson was there and turned to look. He was watching her, a bottle of beer in his hand and a curious look on his face.

	“What?” said Ontario, looking at him as she sat down again, “You’re supposed to cheer right?”

	“Yeah,” said Anderson as he moved back to sit next to her, “Yeah you are.”

	As he settled in next to her he pulled out a piece of paper, unfolding it and peering at it before turning to her once again, taking a pull from his beer. “Alright, so in the interest of proving who you are I’m going to ask you a few questions. Feel free to answer or not answer any of those you like alright?”

	“Ok,” said Ontario, turning to focus on him once more, “Do we start now?”

	“Yeah,” said Anderson, “We start now. Where were you laid down?”

	“Belfast, by Harland and Wolff,” replied Ontario instantly.

	“When were you launched?”

	“July 29, 1943,” she said, again with no delay in the reply.

	“What was your commissioning date?”

	“May 25, 1945.”

	“When were you decommissioned?”

	A brief pause, her voice sad, “October 15, 1958.”

	“What were your dimensions and displacement?” When she didn’t reply right away, Anderson looked up to find Ontario red in the face, her hands touching her cheeks again in confusion.

	“I…I don’t think you’re supposed to ask me that,” she said, strange new feelings coming into her mind. Embarrassment, she didn’t like embarrassment.

	“Er…right,” said Anderson, “What was your main armament?”

	“Nine six inch, fifty caliber Mk 23 guns,” came the reply, this time her voice warming back up as her face cooled down.

	“Could you show me your… armament?” he asked her, putting the paper down.

	“Sure,” said Ontario, hopping down off of her chair to make room, summoning her rigging in a flash of light. All nine guns appeared around her body, stack on her back as she stood proudly in front of the Lieutenant. His eyes were wide, but quickly returned to normal.

	“Can I touch it?” he asked.

	“I suppose so…” she said, standing still as he gingerly reached out to touch her number one turret. He let his finger rest against it for a moment before pulling it away.

	“Could you fire them for me?” he asked.

	“I mean I could…” said Ontario, “But it’d blow up the room and most of the surrounding area.”

	“So it hits with the force of a real six inch gun?” he asked, clarifying.

	“Of course,” she said, looking at him like he was crazy, “Why wouldn’t it?”

	Anderson refrained from saying anything before shaking his head. “I guess that makes sense,” he said, “Anyway, as far as I can tell you’re… who, you say you are.”

	“What do we do now?” asked Ontario, dismissing her rig once again.

	“Now,” said Lt. Anderson as he grabbed his beer and took a swig, “We finish watching the Canadians lose.”

--
	In the end the Maple Leafs managed to stay ahead, winning the match 2-1 in normal time. Ontario found herself cheering alongside the Clarks as the teams left the arena the crowd starting to follow after them, a steady stream of humanity heading out of the once packed building.

	The Clarks seemed to be getting ready to leave as well, the last of the beers being finished off and items being picked up. Maria’s parents and her sister simply waved goodbye, her brother just nodding his head at her as they walked towards the exit. Maria and her grandfather came behind them, her Grandfather supporting himself on her arm as well as with his cane.

	“Give em hell out there,” said the old man, raising his head in a polite salute which Ontario returned, “I’ll be rooting for you.”

	“Thank you,” said Ontario, a slight blush coming onto her face.

	“So will I,” said Maria, handing Ontario a piece of paper, “So if you ever need someone to talk to, give me a call, that’s my phone number.”

	“I… I will,” said Ontario with a nod, taking the paper carefully and looking at it.

	As the Clarks left, Ontario continued to stare at the paper until Lt. Anderson came up beside her again.

	“Ready to go?” he asked her.

	“Yeah… I mean, yes sir,” she said, sticking the paper into the pocket of her uniform.

	Following Anderson out of the now empty suite, Ontario noticed that the guards at the door weren’t stadium security anymore. Instead they were guarded by a pair of soldiers in what looked like full combat gear. They turned and acknowledged Anderson as he walked out the door, falling into step behind Ontario as she exited the room. Looking around she could see nobody else, it seemed that the area had been cleared of people.

	As they neared the exit of the suite area, Ontario could see what looked like a squad of soldiers, also in full battle gear, waiting for them. The squad leader, a sergeant by the looks of it, quickly gathered his men and they took up a circular formation around her and Lt. Anderson, whom she moved closer to.

	“Is… is this all for me?” she asked, looking about at the soldiers as they were led towards what she presumed was the exit, what looked like police officers blocking off other avenues of approach until they were past, then following.

	“Yes,” said Anderson, “We weren’t sure what to expect when we heard the news and well…” He stopped talking for a minute before resuming, the sound of boots on the ground and gear rattling echoing through what seemed to be an empty arena.

	“You’re a warship Ontario,” he finally continued, “A valuable one at that considering our circumstances. We might have been a bit overzealous, but we wanted to make sure you were safe.”

	Ontario thought on that as they finally made their way to another exit. What he said made sense, she was a warship, but here and now she didn’t know exactly how her body worked. Could she die if something happened to her without her rigging deployed? It seemed better to be on the safe side than risk getting injured before she could do her duty.

	As they approached the large glass doors that seemed to lead outside, Ontario began to hear noise. A bark from the sergeant leading the soldiers caused them to stop, letting the police following them exit first. As the door opened a roar of noise came through, similar to what she had heard from the crowd earlier.

	“Head straight to the car, don’t stop,” said Anderson, turning to look at her as the soldiers created two lines beside them instead of a circle.

	“Ok…” said Ontario, following as the doors were opened once more, police officers waving them through. Anderson waved Ontario in front of him and she followed the instruction, stepping out of the building and into the sun for the first time in her new form. A wave of sound nearly overwhelmed her, only the presence of the soldiers beside her and Anderson behind her keeping her moving.

	In front of her were five vehicles, two that looked like small tanks on wheels and three big black ones that looked like a cross between a truck and a van. Something in her head informed her that these were called SUV’s. Around all five vehicles was a line of soldiers dressed similarly to the ones with her and Anderson, most of them facing outwards.

	The reason for that was just a few feet further, held back by a thin line of what looked like both local police and what she recognized somehow as the RCMP and beyond that were people, thousands of them. It seemed that the entire stadium had gathered around the little half circle of police beyond the building, but Ontario couldn’t be sure. She saw signs, so many signs that she couldn’t even begin to read them.

	It was thankfully only a few steps to the middle black vehicle, the door being held open by one of the many soldiers. Ontario climbed inside, followed by Anderson. There were already two soldiers in the front seat and as the door shut behind Anderson Ontario could feel the engine starting as the roar of the crowd dimmed.

	 The rest of the soldiers around the vehicles began to embark as well, the move seemingly practiced as the police kept back the crowd. When the last man made it inside of the tank like vehicles Ontario felt them start to move, heading away from the arena and the crowd surrounding it. Though they initially had to move slow, they quickly began to pick up speed and left the screaming crowds behind.

	Ontario let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding when they could no longer hear the roar of voices, causing Anderson to turn and look at her.

	“Are you alright?” he asked her.

	“I’m… I’m fine,” she said slowly, her hands gripping her legs tightly.

	“You don’t seem like it,” said Anderson, his eyes darting up to the front of the car before back to her.

	“It was just… all those people were waiting for me right?” she said, looking at him.

	“Yes,” said Anderson.

	“I’ve never seen something like that before,” said Ontario, “At least not for me, I’ve seen more people once.”

	“Where was that?” asked Anderson, tension seemingly running out of his shoulders.

	“The Fleet Review,” said Ontario, “For Queen Elizabeth.” She smiled at the memory. “There were a lot of ships there, with more people who came to watch.” She glanced out the window at the city, now moving by fast as they headed towards their destination, wherever that was. “It’s all so different now,” she remarked as she watched buildings flash by. She turned back to Anderson, “I suppose Charles is King by now?”

	Anderson gave her that look again, the one she couldn’t quite decipher, before he shook his head. “Not quite,” he said, a small grin splitting his face, “Queen Elizabeth is still around. She’s in her nineties of course, but that just means most people don’t remember a day without her reign.”

	Ontario had to choke back a bit of emotion as she heard that the Queen was still around. She’d been built, laid down and served under King George, but she’d never had reason to visit Britain until the coronation. She remembered that well, ships from all around the world gathered together and shined for the new Queen to view. There was every kind of ship imaginable, down from humble dockyard craft, through destroyers, cruisers of all types, carriers of all shapes and even the last British battleship, HMS Vanguard. She’d been in line next to her sister ship Quebec and next to another Commonwealth ship, the RNZN Black Prince.

	She remembered how proud she’d been, how proud everyone had been as the laid at anchor in shining rows, each ship immaculately painted, crews turned out in the same manner. It was a fleet fit for Queen to view and Ontario had been honored to have been part of it, part of that shining massive fleet. Out of all the things she’d done, that was pretty much the only one that stuck out in her memory, she had no battles, not even a skirmish to her name, no reason to be in the history books beyond that.

	Thinking about the coronation review and her service or lack thereof as she saw it, passed the minutes quickly Lt. Anderson leaving her alone to her thoughts. By the time she bothered to look up again, they were slowing down, the roar of an aircraft overhead indicating their destination. Glancing out the window she saw a jet liner, something she at least could remember from her time even if they seemed to be much more advanced.

	“Where are we going?” she finally asked Anderson, drawing a glance from him.

	“National Defense Headquarters,” said Anderson, “To see the Admiral.”

	“The Admiral?” said Ontario, “Which one?”

	“Vice Admiral Norman,” said Anderson, turning and looking at her seriously, “Commander of the RCN.”

	“C-c-comander of the navy?!?” exclaimed Ontario, causing one of the soldiers in the front to jump, “But, but I’m just a light cruiser! It’s not like I’m a battlecruiser or carrier or somebody important!”

	Anderson appeared surprised at Ontario’s statement, taking a moment to recover before attempting to answer.

	“Ontario,” he said, “You’re the first… shipgirl, that we’ve had come back. There’ve been others, but none for Canada. Of course the Admiral is going to want to talk to you.”

	“O-oh,” said Ontario, calming down a little bit, “I guess that makes sense.”

	She paused, looking out of the window as they approached Toronto’s airport, the tank like vehicle’s driving directly through an opening made by another group of police.

	“Are there a lot of… girls, like me?” Ontario asked, looking at Anderson.

	“We’re not sure,” said Anderson as they drove towards a hangar in the distance, “Like I said, there have been others but we’re not sure how many. Even our allies are keeping it a bit quiet.”

	“Why?” asked Ontario, her brows scrunching up, “I mean, isn’t sharing intel important?”

	“Let’s just say that we still don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with and leave it at that,” said Anderson, looking out the window as their small convoy pulled up next to a smallish passenger jet and stopped, the soldiers bailing out of the vehicles first, joining a small group of RCMP that appeared to be waiting for them.

	“The flight is only about an hour and we won’t have to wait for landing or takeoff,” said Anderson as the doors were opened for both of them, “The Admiral pulled some strings so we could get there as soon as possible.”

	“Why is it so important that I get to Ottawa?” asked Ontario, following after Anderson as they headed for the steps into the plane.

	“We’re under attack,” said Anderson as they ascended the steps, “By… things. We need all the help we can get. Everyone does. I’ll let the Admiral explain everything else, I don’t have all the information.”

	“Alright,” said Ontario, climbing up the stairs and taking one of the seats across the aisle from Anderson as the engines started to rev up for takeoff, the door being shut by an RCMP crew member.

	As the airplane began to taxi, Ontario felt nerves start to form in the pit of her stomach again. She was fine with ocean swells, but she wasn’t so sure about this flying thing. A final turn and then the engines revved higher but they weren’t moving. Then the pilot did something and they were rolling down the runway, quickly approaching and exceeding the highest speeds she’d ever managed to travel herself. Her hands clamped down on the armrests and then they began to creak as the plane tilted upwards and suddenly they were off the ground, a loud clunk sounding as the landing gear withdrew into the plane.


	“H-how fast does this go?” she asked, her voice quavering as they seemed to speed up even more.

	“Hmm?” said Anderson, glancing at her as he lay back in his seat calmly, “Somewhere around eight or nine hundred KPH I think.”

	Ontario let out a whimper at that number. That was around fifteen times her top speed! She’d never dreamed of going so fast when she was a ship, the thought was ludicrous. But now apparently it wasn’t. She wanted to summon her rigging, she felt safe with her armor, speed and guns on. But something tickled at the back of her mind, telling her that would be a bad idea no matter how much she wanted it.

	Instead she closed her eyes, not able to look out the small windows that dotted the side of the plane as they rose and rose and rose before finally they levelled off. As they settled in Ontario looked out the window, watching the land below roll by. She turned as she heard a click from where Anderson was sitting.

	“Where are you going?” she asked as he started to move towards the cockpit, a little nervous about being alone.

	“I need to make a call,” said Anderson, “It shouldn’t be too long. Hit the button for steward if you need anything.”

	“O-ok,” said Ontario, daring once more to look out at the ground rolling beneath them. Though at first her stomach was rolling at the sight, she eventually began to calm down, her eyes watching with wonder as roads, fields and entire towns rolled by beneath them.

--

	Vice Admiral Mark Norman, Commander of the RCN, sat behind his desk waiting for a phone-call. Normally he was the one making calls and expecting them to be picked up, as there was only one currently serving officer in the Canadian armed forces who outranked him and only a few politicians above him who could say the same. General Vance had dumped the problem on him, with a quick statement of “Ships are the navy’s problem, especially if they’re walking around!” and His Excellency the Right Honourable David Lloyd Johnston, Governor General and Commander-in-Chief in and over Canada apparently didn’t want to deal with it either. But for this situation he had to wait, would wait as it was the only thing he could do until he received the call or had somebody else run in and inform him that most of downtown Toronto had been leveled.

	He of course was thinking all of this in part to distract himself from the impossible problem that faced him and the RCN. After decades of no real enemy to fight, seemingly eternally lessening budgets and politicians who continued to promise new ships “Soon!” the RCN had fallen from a respectable first world navy with at least one light carrier and relatively modern escorts to one that had only had twelve surface combatants, none less than twenty years old and none larger than a frigate.

	Though the Halifax class were good ships, they were small compared to modern destroyers, weighing only a bit more than half of a US Arleigh Burke and were designed largely for ASW and AA coverage. The eight Harpoon ASM’s were the only weapons they carried that could do noticeable damage to their new opponents, their 57mm Bofors gun nearly worthless except on the smallest of them. They’d learned that the hard way, four of the Halifax’s being destroyed in the first months of conflict, three more laid up in dock for repair. That left only five surface combatants for him to protect the longest coastline in the world, a task that was impossible on almost every level.

	Beyond the deaths of his sailors, the largest thing weighing on him at the moment was uncertainty. It was true that the government had greenlighted the final implementation of the emergency naval expansion and Single Class Surface Combatant project, but even if they laid down ships immediately, it would be nearly two years before they were finished and they were still finalizing details on what they wanted to lay out. Without new surface ships Canada couldn’t protect herself, much less support her allies. While they wouldn’t starve to death, things would get tough for the Canadian people until they could hold open the sea lanes again. It was a simple matter of hulls, there weren’t enough and they wouldn’t have any more for quite some time.

	That left him here, sitting behind his desk and waiting for a phone call in the hope that maybe they would have more hulls before too long. He let out a soft snort. The hopes of Canada rested on the idea that ships reincarnated from god only knew where or for what reason, would be willing to work for them. He had a few ideas in place to help with that but it was still up in the air until he got his call.

	Suddenly his phone rang and he immediately reached out to pick it up.

	“Vice Admiral Norman,” he said, despite the fact that it was his direct line.

	“Sir,” came a familiar voice, “It’s Anderson.”

	Norman let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Good to hear from you Lieutenant,” he said, quickly getting down to business, “How’s our guest?”

	Anderson took a second before responding. “She’s fine sir,” he said, “In fact if I had to say anything about her it’s that she seems eager to help us.” Despite his words, Norman could feel a bit of hesitation in Anderson’s voice.

	“Is something wrong Lieutenant?” he asked, “I would think that having help would boost your spirits.”

	“Sir,” said Anderson, “permission to speak freely?”

	“Granted Lieutenant,” he said, “Please speak your mind; nobody knows much about these girls in the first place.”

	“Sir,” said Anderson, “I know she is what she said she is; she deployed her… weapons for me. But I found her sitting in a skybox watching the Maple Leafs and Canadians while drinking Molson’s. If she wasn’t wearing a uniform or so obviously new to everything I’d have passed her by on the street without much more than a second glance.”

	“What’re you getting at Lieutenant?” asked Norman.

	“Sir,” said Anderson, “I don’t think we should treat her like a ship. At least not exclusively, she has emotions, she likes things and right now,” Norman heard the sound of a curtain being pulled to the side, “she’s experiencing her first ride in an airplane and I’m not sure if she’s scared or enjoying herself.”

	“So what you’re saying is kid gloves,” said Norman.

	“Sir… I’m not saying kid gloves. She seems to want to fight, so don’t coddle her. Just… treat her like a person who has some special abilities, not a ship that looks like a girl, if that makes sense.”

	“So what you’re telling me Lieutenant, is that you’re suggesting that I and by extension the entire Canadian Navy, try to treat the reincarnated soul of an eleven thousand ton cruiser which just happens to be able to walk on water, summon high caliber naval artillery from nowhere and is likely able to rip someone limb from limb if we make it angry, as just a girl with some quirks.”

	There was a moment of silence from the other line before Anderson replied. “Yes sir that is what I suggest. I’m sure there will be a few issues that need to be worked out and while she’s a bit naïve she’s not stupid. If we try to treat her differently she’ll find out eventually and I’d rather not have her angry at us because we did something avoidable like lying straight to her face or treating her like a freak.”

	“A bit naïve?” asked Norman, “How naïve are we talking here Lieutenant? I don’t want to have an easily distracted… ship girl wandering around.”

	“Not that naïve sir,” said Anderson, “I think it’s just that she’s still learning how to be a person. Once she gets some experience under her belt I think she’ll be pretty sharp.”

	“Alright Lieutenant,” said Norman, “I think I have the picture. How long until you arrive at NDHQ?”

	“We took off about fifteen minutes ago sir, so it shouldn’t be much more than an hour and a half as long as we don’t get caught up in traffic,” said Anderson.

	“”Make it as quick as you can Lieutenant,” said Norman, glancing at his computer screen and the list of attacks on ships in and around Canadian waters, “We need her help.”

	“Yes sir,” said Anderson, “We’ll be there soon. Any other orders sir?”

	“Keep me updated on any developments,” said Norman, “And call me when you land.”

	“Yes sir,” said Anderson, “I’ll contact you when we’re on the ground. Anderson out.”

	With a click the call disconnected, leaving Norman to set down his phone and look at his screen again. Too many attacks for the RCN to deal with by themselves, the USN overstretched with their own commitments. He didn’t want to rely on such an unknown quality as the newly arrived ship-girls, but he needed every hull he could get.

	With a shake of his head he tried to clear his mind, turning back to the innumerable reports and requests that he had to deal with. He could worry about Ontario when she arrived, until then there were things to do.

--

	Ontario eventually decided that while it wasn’t her preferred method of travel, flying wasn’t too bad. The flight was for the most part smooth with the occasional slight bump and though her new ears popped several times, looking at the ground as it passed by underneath the plane was enjoyable. She hardly even looked at Anderson as he came back from his call and only took some water when it was offered to her. Fresh water tasted different than the salty spray she remembered, though it wouldn’t be fair to say she had tasted the ocean either.

	When the fasten seatbelt light came on she turned to Anderson and he glanced up from where he had been reading something.

	“It means we’re going to land,” he said, reaching down to fasten his own seatbelt.

	“We’re there already?” she asked, fastening her seatbelt.

	“Ottawa isn’t that far from Toronto by plane,” replied Anderson, settling in as he put his reading materials away.

	“But it hasn’t even been an hour yet,” said Ontario, who grabbed at her armrests and squeezed as the plane began to tilt downwards and caused her stomach to flutter. Maybe flying wasn’t so great after all.

	“We got to bypass a lot of traffic,” said Anderson, apparently used to this, “And we’re cutting through the landing pattern as well.”

	“Ok…” said Ontario with a gulp as the plane continued to descend, the plane seemingly descending at an even faster rate than before. She watched as the ground came closer and closer, when the plane suddenly began to turn, tilting her in her seat as the grips began to creak even more. The thunk of the landing gear again surprised her and combined with another drop as the plane descended even more, the creak in the seat became a crack, something in the underlying structure giving way underneath her strength.

	Anderson glanced her way, his eyes concerned as the plane gets even lower. The trees and building look like their correct size now, flashing by at amazing speed as more thunks and whines come from the plane. Ontario can’t help but look out the window and then close her eyes repeatedly, feeling certain somehow that the plane was going to crash. She opened her eyes once more in time to see the runway approach, the plane still tilted back. As the plane touched down the wheels started rumbling beneath them, the nose wheel coming down last as the engines behind them screeched at maximum thrust.

	Ontario closed her eyes again until the rumbling of the tires and the whine of the engine died off, the plane now moving at a decent but much slower clip towards one of the hangars. She took a deep breath, not having realized until then that she had been holding it. Looking out the window again she caught a glimpse of what looked like the same convoy they used in Toronto, except for the addition of police cars in front and behind.

	She finally looked back to Anderson again and saw him give her that look again, the one that seemed curious yet… somehow like he wasn’t sure he should ask about it.

	“How was your first flight?” he asked her as he unbuckled himself, the plane coming to a stop as he stood.

	“I don’t like takeoff,” she said, unbuckling and following after him as the hatch was door was opened and the stairs deployed, “Or landing. But the middle wasn’t so bad I guess.”

	He nodded, leading the way to the middle SUV of the convoy, more Canadian soldiers in full gear waiting for them as they got in.

	“Well, hopefully it will grow on you,” said Anderson as the vehicle started up and the convoy proceeded out of the airport with police lights flashing to clear the way, “I think you’ll have a decent bit of flying in your future.”

	“Hopefully,” said Ontario as she looked out the window, taking in the sights of Canada’s capital city. She had of course never seen it in her previous life, but she had a vague sort of remembrance from her many crews. As the got on the highway Ontario watched various neighborhoods and buildings flash by, cars moving to the side as the police and armored vehicles came up behind them.

	Anderson was quiet, letting her take in the sights for the twenty minute drive to NDHQ. When they arrived in the parking lot the soldiers hopped out of the vehicles, joining the ones already posted there. Anderson opened the door and led her towards the entrance, a squad of soldiers around them once more.

	“Is this still necessary?” she asked, looking at them as they finally entered the doors to the home of Canada’s armed forces.

	“We don’t know,” said Anderson as they were waved past the security in the lobby, “So the brass thinks it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

	Ontario looked around and saw some of the looks she was getting, people staring at her and whispering. It was different than the crowd at the stadium where it had been so overwhelming that she hadn’t even had time to think about it. She was suddenly glad for the circle of heavily armed men around her, unsure as she was of what the people were whispering about.

	Anderson led her to a bank of elevators and hit the button, the soldiers taking up position around them. She glanced back and saw a few people still staring and whispering, though most of them glanced away if she tried to look them in the eye. It was different than when she had been with the Clarks and she was pretty sure she didn’t like it.

	The elevator doors opened and she followed Anderson in, two of the soldiers joining them as the rest stayed by the doors. As they shut, Ontario’s eyes went to the display as Anderson hit a button and they started to go up.

	“Am I really that strange looking?” she asked, glancing down at her uniform.

	Anderson looked at her and shrugged, the soldiers not turning or even indicating that they’d heard her.

	“Like I said Ontario, ship-girls are still rare and most people have only heard rumors and hearsay. Things they don’t understand make people nervous and to be frank… we don’t know anything about where you came from or why.” He paused and shook his head, giving her a bit of a grin. “Just give them some time and they’ll get used to the idea of you being around and you won’t have any more whispering.”

	Ontario nodded, her mind starting to wonder about why she had come back, where she had come back from. The elevator was quiet, neither of the soldiers speaking and Anderson once more descending into silence.

	As the elevator lurched to a stop and the doors opened, Ontario found herself following Anderson once more. She didn’t pay much attention to her surroundings beyond that, her mind still trying to come up with something beyond a vague feeling for why she came back. Finally it hit her, just as Anderson walked past a desk and towards a door that had VAdm Norman frosted onto it.

	“The anthem,” she said as he placed his hand on the doorknob, “I remember the anthem… everybody was singing together and… and they all believed in it, in the spirit of it.” She looked up from where she had been staring at the ground, her eyes now focused on his. “That’s why I came back.”

	Anderson paused with his hand on the door, taking in her statement. Ontario could feel her hands balled up into fists, her new muscles quivering and tight as she felt passion inside of her, passion flaring up like her boilers building up steam for flank. That reason and that reason alone was why she came back. She would stand on guard, she would protect and allow Cnada to stand strong and free.

	Finally Anderson nodded, the grin returning to his face, though this one seemed a hair more open than before.

	“That’s a good enough reason for me,” he said, “But let’s not keep the Admiral waiting anymore.”

	“Right,” said Ontario, nodding her head in agreement as she felt her body relax, then suddenly tense back up as she remembered she was meeting the head of the Royal Canadian Navy. She gulped as Anderson finally opened the door and stepped inside. She followed, determined to make a good impression.

--

	Vice Admiral Norman looked up from his paperwork as he heard a knock on his door.

	“Come in,” he called, expecting the door to be opened promptly, but it took a few more seconds than normal for it to happen. Finally the knob turned and Anderson stepped in, giving him a salute as he did so.

	“Sir,” said Anderson, “May I introduce C53, HMCS Ontario.”

	Norman had heard the reports and even seen a brief picture gathered from somewhere, but he was still unprepared for the girl that entered his office and saluted, her back ramrod straight as her eyes bored a hole in the wall above his head.

	“Sir, HMCS Ontario reporting for duty sir!” she said, her youthful sounding voice somehow filled with every bit of discipline he would expect from a long time service member. In the brief time he had he looked over her. Young was the right way to describe her; she looked like a newly minted cadet just out of one of the Royal Military College’s. Despite that she also had an air about her of something more, something that he couldn’t describe. Instead of trying to figure out what it was, he returned their salutes.

	“Welcome,” he said, “Sit down, both of you.” Anderson immediately took one of the chairs in front of his desk, having reported to Norman several times before. Ontario took the other seat her eyes a bit downcast, almost as if she was nervous. That made two of them.

	“So, Ontario,” he said, focusing on the ship girl, “What has Anderson told you about our situation.”

	“Not much sir,” she said, her eyes coming up to his at last, “Only that I was the first ship-girl to come back for Canada and that we are under attack. He said you would want to tell me the rest.”

	Norman looked to Anderson, who nodded.

	“That’s right,” he said, returning to Ontario, “We’re under attack, the whole world is under attack. The creatures that are attacking us, we call them Abyssals. We don’t know where they come from or why, but they’ve attacked every country with a coastline and as you know, Canada has the largest in the world.” He paused, gathering up the strength to continue. “To defend that coast, I currently have five ships,” he said, watching as Ontario’s eyes went wide, “Five frigates, all older than you were when you were retired. To say we are overstretched is an understatement. Even with what help we can get from the USN, shipping to and from Canada has almost completely stopped.”

	By now Ontario had gathered her composure and was looking at him intently, focused on every word that he was saying.

	“My ships can only do so much,” he said to her, “And against the enemy we face it isn’t enough. That’s where you come in, if you feel you’re up for it.”

	“Anything you need Sir,” she replied firmly, giving him a brief nod.

	“Ontario,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “Between the authority given to me by my superiors and the recommendations given by Lieutenant Anderson, I’ve come up with what I think will be the best solution for all of us. I would like you to swear the Oath of Allegiance and officially rejoin the Royal Canadian Navy, not only as a ship, but as a member of Her Majesty’s armed forces at the provisional rank of Sub-Lieutenant. You’ll be in charge of any other ship-girls that may come back at later dates and likely be on the front lines of this war for longer than any of us expect.” He paused briefly, looking at her intently and seeing her looking back the same way. “I know I’m asking a lot of you, but right now you’re the only chance I have to keep Canadian waters open. I won’t lie to you, I doubt it will be easy and we aren’t fully aware of the dangers involved. I don’t feel like I can order this of you so instead I’m asking. Are you willing to do this?”
--

	Ontario couldn’t even begin to process all of the emotions running through her at the moment. Shock, confusion, nervousness and uncertainty all ran through her at the moment. Questions, so many of them, starting with where had the RCN she knew gone? What had happened to Canada’s proud navy? But over all of that ran something more, something that ran through her, something that sang to her soul.

	This was her moment; this was the time she could stand up and fulfill her purpose, to fulfill her duty to her people and nation. It wasn’t a question of if; it was only a question of how well she could perform under the unknown circumstances. She nodded her head to Admiral Norman, her back straight as she returned his intent look.

	“Yes sir,” she said, never having felt more certain, “I am ready and willing to do my duty.”

	She thought she saw the ghost of a smile flit over Norman’s face before he nodded and pulled out a Bible from a drawer in his desk.

	“We’ll perform the ceremony now then,” he said holding out the Bible for her to lay her hand on, which she immediately did.

	“Do you, HMCS Ontario, do swear that you will be faithful and bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second, Queen of Canada, Her Heirs and Successors. So help you God?” he asked, stumbling only a little over her name.

	“I, HMCS Ontario, do swear that I will be faithful and bear true allegiance to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second, Queen of Canada, Her Heirs and Successors. So help me God,” she repeated, a bolt of cool lightning shooting up her spine and into her head as she repeated back the oath.

	When she was finished, Norman put the bible back into his desk and then stood, offering his hand to her. “Welcome back to the RCN Ms. Ontario,” he said, “It’s good to have you again.”

	Taking his hand in return Ontario nodded and shook it. “Thank you Sir,” she said, “It’s good to be back.”