Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Thunder shook the outside of the home with flashes of lights through the windows. Having been in the storms before, this was nothing new to the occupant inside. But she held her covers close while listening to each clap of the clouds. Droplets of water touched the glass she faced and created the streaking shadows on the walls. 

Despite the noise erupting every few moments, Saint Louis couldn’t stop herself from jumping at each clap. Her apartment is well built, able to handle the worst storms outside of a hurricane or attack. Yet, like many buildings, it shakes to each push from the thunder. 

Getting out of bed was no problem. Her feet touched the cold wooden floors, reminding her the time of the year and weather conditions of her current post. Saint Louis grabs a blue robe off her doorway and exits to the hallway. Containing the rather thin layers hidden beneath her bosom, she looks through the darkened home. 

It is small. Only one bedroom and a larger room containing the fusion of her kitchen and living room. Being an apartment, there wasn’t anything grand about it - and it fit Saint Louis perfectly with the almost scant amount of items she kept around her home. 

Spring came to the base with heavy rains and spats of cold and warmth. She wanted to be outside - deployed like the others on patrols - but having to take her own sabbath for a time, the crusader remained. That, and she can still see the manjuu in a raincoat sleeping gently at the door way. Stationed there by her Commander if she made an attempt to leave for work. 

“Fitting.” She pet the sleeping bird and added a covered plate of food next to it. They’re smart enough to handle themselves and follow simple orders. Irony was found in how it woke up to see her, stare, and thank her for the food with chirps. 

Saint Louis smiled. There’s an irony in the bird, for it was the Cardinal’s idea to utilize such creatures on Commander Silas himself when they discovered his unhealthy work hours. Seasoned in its tasks, such a corp was founded amongst the birds - the Work Watch Group. 

She likes the name, it came from one of the Eagle Union kansen but she couldn’t remember her name. 

Nevertheless, there is time for her to ruminate and recall. Settling down on a couch, Saint Louis looked at the book she grabbed for light reading. A piece of literature recommended to her by a Royal Navy friend - an older kind where there was no title on the book but within the pages. 

It was a fairly aged story, one before her supposed time - the Red Badge of Courage. 

Surprise came to her when she realized it was about the Eagle Union’s own history, furthermore, the one who recommended it to her was not someone she expected to have read the story. Her friend, a fellow priority ship from the first line developed, Monarch was not a very conversational type. Strangely, this kind of personality is what made her like her during the slower brief early years as they proved themselves on the battlefield. 

Flipping the book over to the first pages, the story detailed the account of a civil war Eagle Unionist soldier. He was contrary to the title of the book, a real trenchant to the reality of war. Fear, doubt, and fleeing from the battlefield was enough for her to finish the book in one sitting. It was by the ending of the book, Saint Louis fully realized why Monarch recommended it to her specifically. 

Besides the obvious parallels, it was touching for Saint Louis to understand what it means to fight for one’s nation - regardless of where they stand. 

While she can’t truly relate, having never feared the battle and charged head on, she can feel the sense of real challenge and quivering doubt. Saint Louis gets up from the couch to study the fourteen pictures she kept on the walls. A little over a dozen hung around the apartment, holding pictures of the friends she made along the way. Places she’s been and the mementos she held onto from location to location. 

She started at the end of the hall near her bedroom. Nothing too large where she cannot store it away on her rigging and nothing too small to hide the faces of those she encountered. Her first friend, the now ordained Pontiff Richelieu stood by her on the day of Saint Louis’ creation. A cherished photo with handmade frames from home. Then the next set of pictures of those Azur Lane member nations - Eagle Union, Royal Navy, Northern Parliament and a one unique picture of the entire Iris Libre before unification. 

This was before the grand battle that would inevitably unite them all. And soon she would drop the moniker of Iris Libre for the nation’s true name of Orthodoxy. 

Her last handful of photos. Finally, she met the isolated member of the east, the cordoned off Dragon Empery. Alongside those she once considered foes, the soon to be former members of the Crimson Axis in the ending talks of reformation. Azur Lane would soon include a new member, a picture she has yet to take with the newest members of the war - the Tulipa Kingdom. 

That is her current posting. Having been relocated from the Mediterranean after the arduous challenge of ending her nation’s civil war - here she is being a part of something new. Hearing knocking from the door, the manjuu finished up his meal and hopped from his stool. Waddling over to the door, it opened it up to a fresh face. 

Saint Louis almost retreated to her room - having worn sheer sleepwear - but she did remember to keep her robe tied. Seeing a soaking wet kansen alerted her immediately to pull in the guest. 

Nothing she wore indicated the usual nations the Iris is familiar with. Well traveled after so many years fighting, Saint Louis grew a knack for knowing what cultures came from where. While she prided herself on diplomacy and the use of tongue, this time Saint Louis is at a loss for words because she’s never met this one before. 

Thankfully, Saint Louis had the solution behind the door. 

“Here, I always keep one here for situations like this.” 

“Thank you!” The woman put down her pot and started patting down her clothes, “It was fine earlier but it kept pouring so…”

“It's alright,” Saint Louis quickly grabs a blanket kept on her couch, “Take this too.” 

“Thank you again! You’re so helpful!” She greeted Louis happily, “I should’ve been more prepared. Fufu~!” 

Green was the first color that enveloped her clothes, soaked as they are. Eyes drawing upwards, ears of length that resembled the ones Brest had. The word ‘elf’ enters her mind but holds her tongue so as to not offend her. Someone made a similar distinction to Brest and the conversations afterwards weren’t entirely pleasant. Although, secretly, Brest admitted she liked the idea - famously known in fictional accounts of being fair, beautiful images of ageless wonder. 

There is a bit of hubris in such ideas, but Saint Louis never denied such an idea - and the woman before her is a spitting image of that idea. Although, the potted plant between her arms is the most outstanding part. 

“Sorry, to bother you!” She finally said holding the pot up, “Klien Keral told me this is where you lived and uh, I wanted to bring him to you!” 

“That’s my chicory from the garden…” Saint Louis squints, “ I just planted it.” 

“Oh, my apologies. He was so vocal when I passed by!” the kansen cradles the pot, “He said he missed you and wanted to be here instead of the garden…I found it weird too.” 

The idea that her plants are intelligent enough to formulate opinions and can voice such thoughts made Saint Louis blink rapidly. 

“You can speak to plants?”

“Kind of. It's more like I can hear their thoughts and share them with others.” The kansen’s ears wiggle on the sides, “Oh, where are my manners, I’m De Zeven Provincien. Light cruiser of the Tulipians! I wanted to welcome you to our base but I, uh, got distracted.” 

“I see.” Saint Louis offers her a seat at the couch, “You can make yourself at home, I’m going to get you another towel.” 

“You don’t have to!” Zeven holds the first two now soaked towels, “I’m all dry now!” 

True, she was able to dry herself due to the very lacking set of attire. With one exception- 

“But your hair…” 

“It’ll be fine.” She touched the matted locks, “Besides, I have a patrol later and they’re going to get wet anyways.” 

“If you say so,” Saint Louis grimaces, “Well, thank you for bringing my plant back to me if what you say is true.” 

“Believe me! He would rather be with you than out there.” The confidence oozes from her, “Besides, the other plants in the garden didn’t like him for some reason…” 

“Hmm,” the thought was strange but reasonable, “Maybe because I grew him back home. I was going to plant him in the garden behind the chapel but I had to leave.” 

Saint Louis takes the towels and places them on a chair, “My name is Saint Louis, a servant to the Lord and part of the Templar Knights. I’m part of the Iris contingent sent here to assist in securing the port after the last attack.” 

“I know! The Commander told me more countries came to greet us.” Zeven smiles, “When we heard Azur Lane was sending us all the resources we needed, I didn’t think they’d send every nation.” 

“Is that really so surprising for you?” 

Zeven shrugs, her ears twitch momentarily. Saint Louis couldn’t take it as a sign of nervousness or simple obliviousness. Not every kansen is aware of the current politics and only follows orders, and something tells her this one leans towards that assumption. However, quick expectations. can be proven wrong.

“I mean, Tulipa has been isolated for so long, when we entered talks to join Azur Lane, I didn’t think they’d be this friendly and kind.” 

Saint Louis nods. She first tried to focus on where to put the pot in her hands. Dirt was already getting on her robes, so she settled with putting him- it back on a coffee table. 

“That is the aura of our Commander after all.” 

“Yeah!” A cheery brightness blossomed from a grin, “Memphis, his secretary I believe. We were going to plan a vacation for him but he had to leave for somewhere else.” 

“He is a busy man, if not for him and the others, we wouldn’t be as far as we are now.” 

“Other Commanders?” 

“Yes,” Saint Louis pauses, “Commander Silas is my officer, but he sent me here with my flagship to assist Commander Garrison. Both are grand officers with great skills, but they can only be in so many places. Right now we have five of them spread out in Azur Lane, I’m not sure if or how many the Crimson Axis has…” 

“Huh.” Zeven plays with one of her drenched hairs, “This bigger world is a lot more complicated than I thought.” 

“You haven’t been around that long, have you?” 

She nods, “Several months? I think around seven to eight months? I can ask Klein Groentje. He knows!” 

“Err, is that your Commander?” 

“Oh no, we don’t have one.” Appearing in her hands, another potted plant is in her possession, “This is Klein Groentje! He’s my friend!” 

“Hmm,” Saint Louis looks around and eyes the clock hanging by the door, “Would you like to sit down for a talk? I hope this doesn’t get in the way of your patrol.” 

“I have time!” Zeven checks the petals of her plant before placing it next to the chicory. Her stomach growls and she clutches it, “Eheh, sorry, I haven’t eaten anything since this morning.” 

“Okay,” Saint Louis heads for her kitchen, already formulating a little recipe, “I have some sweets stored away from home. We have a very well known baker who’s famous for her goods.” 

“Oh, please!” 

Saint Louis spares one more glance at the kansen. Her attention already focused on the two potted plants. Somehow, she can sense a communication being formed between the three - even if she doesn’t understand how. Blinking more like before, Iris renews her task - the newer kansen continue to surprise her with their gimmicks and abilities.

Six, seven recent lines of Priority Ships? While shuffling through cabinets for plates and the containers filled with the delicious sweet treats, Saint Louis catches a glance of one more picture hidden on the refrigerator. It was her with a certain chaplain, her commander, at the chapel they spent so much time in. Her Canaan among the wildness of the world. One day Saint Louis will return, but until then, she places the desserts on the plates and brings them to the living room - walking in on Zeven talking with both plants. 

Saint Louis could only smile at the display. Rain kept pelting the window outside while the yellow bird who watched over her waddled closely. Eyeing and smelling the same desserts she prepared for her guests. While more attuned to work and fighting, Saint Louis understood the joy of rest.

Chapter Text

Truth be told, Evertsen hasn’t spent much time around people besides Zeven, the scientists that helped make her, and the constant flow of human authorities that wanted to talk to her. She didn’t mind the humans, they’re people after all, but she’d rather be alone with her thoughts and notes studying the world around her. 

There was so much about the world to learn. Granted, kansen are unique for their ability to be born with plenty of information already stored in their cubes. A facet discovered long before her own creation. Regardless, Evertsen didn’t let it stop her from studying and seeing the new things not exactly given to her. Of course, she knows the basics of naval warfare, science behind it, and the simple use of putting a crafted piece of metal on water. It was the less relevant subjects that amazed her. 

With the repairs of her home close to done, it freed up Evertsen a lot more than she thought. Not prepared for the lack of work, she grabbed her trusty notebook and recorder, both materials needed to keep track of her discoveries. She would’ve asked Zeven if she wanted to come, but she couldn’t the woman in her daily spot 

Was she going to explore the forest for the specimen she needed for her pine? Or was she going to study the disturbed wildlife at the beaches? Evertsen kept a structured schedule and this is the first time she didn’t have one. 

Upon stepping onto the beach, she made sure to check the shoreline for broken husks of Sirens. It wasn’t the first time she’s seen them occasionally come from battles afar, but after seeing the scene of the harbor burning - it was almost harrowing to imagine what it was like to constantly fight Sirens. 

Many years of war and here Evertsen is arriving long after the fight begins to die down.

Personally, she didn’t mind the lack of intense fighting. The reports from the Atlantic, Pacific, and even the Mediterranean shocked her a lot - otherworldly beings having to be fought off with technology beyond most people’s understanding. Rumors were abound about teleportation, technomancy, and the myth of ghosts. It would be hypocritical to find these implausible - considering she can perform magic and biomancy. 

Momentarily glancing at her plants before leaving her room, there was a sense of happiness she saw in them. Dark under the evening lights, at least she had a goal after the war - to study the world and grow as much as she can to replace what was lost. It made her happy in a way. To have such ideas for the future. 

So, much to her surprise, she found a creature not of nature or even alive technically upon arriving to the furthest reaches of the base’s perimeter. A floating metallic beast hovering over an overturned mollusk at a beach. Large red jaws snap and close while a turret rotates on the back. Evertsen guessed the two flaps of steel on the side are the pectoral fins. 

Based on the mindless behavior, the curious kansen surmised it was sniffing the mollusk. 

“Completely mechanical. However, you possess the means to drool.” 

The floating head cocked itself to the side. 

“I heard of your kind before.” Evertsen stayed a comfortable distance from it, “I’m Evertsen. I wonder who your owner is…” 

As if understanding, the creature continues to poke its teeth at the mollusk before abandoning its find. Floating away towards an approaching person. 

“There you are!” Clad in black and red, Evertsen paused to see a black tail whirl from behind her, “I was wondering where- oh, hello!” 

“Eversen.” The kansen put away her notes, “You’re one of the Iron Blood who came to help us, I don’t think I met you yet.” 

“Admiral Graf Spee.” Timid in voice, Evertsen notices her retracts her rather large hands, “I’m glad to make your acquaintance Miss-?” 

“Evertsen.” The kansen nods, “You’re rigging is a curious sort.” 

“He is. A lot more energetic than his sibling.” Spee motions to a spitting copy of the very same thing, chastising the stray rigging with a few bashes, “Now, you don’t need to get rough.” 

“Amazing.” Spee gives an odd look to Evertsen, “Sorry, I only saw pictures of the Iron Blood’s sentient rigging, but I never got to see one of this kind up close. Besides Lord Tirpitz.” 

She remembered her meeting with the Iron Blood leader. While Zeven worked to finish off the other Siren experiments attacking the harbor, Evertsen made a point for her fleet to meet the one leading the charge. Donning a formal white uniform, the battleship of historical renown was not as well said as her sibling - Lord Bismarck. Either way, Evertsen didn’t voice her thoughts on this matter. In fact, she was more occupied with the rigging itself. 

And the new Iron Blood she met. 

“I’m sorry if I sound rude.” Evertsen watches the two floating sharks play fight with one another, “But…could I ask a few questions about them? Nothing confidential I hope, but I’m rather curious how they operate with you.” 

“I’ll do my best.” Spee agrees, “And no, they’re not exactly sentient. They’re tied to us in a way. There was someone else who would have explained it better than me but they’re like most riggings - instead they take on a more ‘fish’ kind of form.” 

Evertsen had to stop herself from lingering on the tail swishing behind Spee. Also not a common trait, she’s seen passing images of them. The Sakura Empire had their vulpine-like races, the kitsune with their nine-tails. She’s seen some animal-like features on her Northern Parliament friends yet never broached the topic on their reality. Much to her shock, Spee paralleled her thoughts. 

“You want to see my tail?” She brings over the appendage with ease, “And yes, it's attached to me.” 

“I-” Spee brings it closer to Evertsen, “Err, I…are you sure?” 

“Mhmm.” After several years of being in service, there were many who asked her. While her sister wasn’t as open to it, the questions over time actually started to be welcoming to Spee. Especially as bigger, much more terrifying kansen arrived with their near impossible and mythical beasts of yore - referring to the grand majesties of August Von Parseval and even Lord Bismarck’s new form. 

“You aren’t the first, Miss Evertsen.” Spee explains, “Besides, I think it's a great way for us to interact. You’ll find other kansen with many interesting things about them.” 

“Wait so.” Evertsen sees the tail but holds her fingers back, “Can I touch it?” 

“Uh.” 

This isn’t what Spee expected. To be honest, she only wanted to show it off since they’re alone. However, much to her still in progress social skills, Spee didn’t really know how to respond to that. For friends, it wasn’t an issue, but for a stranger from another country in their country - this wasn’t exactly what she thought. 

Evertsen notes this very quickly, “I’m sorry, that was weird. You don’t have to let me.” 

“Uh.” 

“Welp.” 

Off to the side, the two floating turrets belonging to Spee stop play fighting and observe the awkwardness. While not fully sentient or capable of talking to themselves, they relayed to each other that there was something obviously worrying about their owner and this new person. Familiar with such times, they bumped their owner closer to this ‘Evertsen’. Inadvertently, most likely on purpose, shoving the tail into the Tulipian hands. 

“Guys! Hey!” 

“Erm.” 

Spee freezes as she feels Evertsen’s soft grip. All she can do is swallow a yelp as the curious mind feels the metal surface. Maybe because she’s used to Zeven’s overwhelming presence or she’s not been around people too much, but the fact she met a kansen with something she can study surprised her. And as quickly, Evertsen noticed the heavy blush. 

“Whoops.” She lets go, backing away, “You must be sensitive about this. I really apologize for that.” 

‘Shit, shit, shit. I hope this isn’t a diplomatic blunder’, Evertsen gulps while looking away. 

“Look, I uh-” Evertsen tried, really attempted, to salvage this, “I- Okay, so.” 

She switched to the only way out - being serious about it. 

“Err, it's not exactly metal underneath that isn’t?” She points back at the tail, now tucked behind Spee. 

“...Yeah.” Evertsten's earnest switch threw her embarrassment aside, “I don’t know how to explain it, but maybe after we get back to base I can show you what it looks like when I’m not prepared for combat.” 

“Very fascinating,” Evertsten’s ears twitch, no longer feeling hot behind them, “The Northern Parliament has someone with a similar tail but smaller than yours. Unlike hers, you have a hollow interior?” 

“Umm,” shaking her head to the observation, Spee moves her tail a little back to the open, “I have to keep it like this for obvious reasons but underneath, it's blue and soft. It's hard to explain it without actually showing you.” 

“We can wait, I don’t mind, I already violated your personal space so…” 

“No, no! I insist!” Spee hesitated but since she already said so, went all in, “Besides, maybe you can show me around the base in return? Lord Tirpitz said we’re supposed to be docked her for the time being and I’d like a tour.” 

Evertsen nodded, “I agree to such terms. Don’t worry, I’m not going to scrutinize you. As long as you’re not like Kazan or Oleg, I don’t mind.” 

“Are they a problem?” 

“No.” Evertsen takes a long look, “Kazan loves her hugs and Oleg is too…experimental.” 

“I’ll take those words lightly then,” Spee hazard a guess who she’s referring to, but she hasn’t met them before. Most likely Northern Parliament ships based on the names alone. 

“Follow me, I’ll show you around.” She taps her chin, "Would you like to see my plants? I grow plenty at home and I can give you one if you'd like." 

"Oh, okay." Spee pondered, "I don't really know how to take care of plants." 

"Don't worry, I'll show you. I have guides." 

Evertsen didn’t intend for her free time to be spent giving a tour, but if it means she gets to learn, then it's worth it. 

Chapter Text

Oleg spent a long time in the Kingdom of Tulipa. 

For while they didn’t lack industrial power, they largely made up for in their heavy adaptation to nature. She studied their technology with great enthusiasm for her own projects. While her main mission is to help set up the shipgirls for the nation’s new found unity and freedom, Oleg found their turn towards nature to be awe inspiring. 

“Zeven! Section 8 needs more water!” 

“On it!” 

“Hmm, the tomatoes don’t look good.” 

“Yeah, I know, the cold snap from last week really hurt the smaller ones. They couldn’t handle the chill.” 

“Just get the water, I’ll take care of them.” 

Invited into one of their myriad of greenhouses, she was surprised to learn they used these to produce their food. Anybody visiting their base would assume they grew their produce in their vast gardens, the same assumption Oleg and her fellow Kazan made when they arrived to help them. It was this fact that their greenhouses were the first facilities set up at their port long before the essentials of workshops, mess halls, and all the military installations needed for kansen.

She’s never seen greenhouses like this before. The Northern Parliament boasted of high food production, the crop yields were very specific and only in certain ports. They didn’t have the same mastery of biology as Oleg would see with Evertsen. Staying true to their elvish-like nature, she places her hands on a couple of wilting pots. 

In real time, Oleg watches the yellowed bunch glow back to life. Now realizing it was actually a tomato plant. In her natural tongue, Evertsen whispers several more words and the surrounding plants somehow glow, then flicker back to their usual colors. Oleg quickly pulled down her goggles to study one of the plants near her - and through analysis discovered they were experiencing a sort of revitalization. 

Preoccupied with her study, Oleg failed to see Evertsen step forward. Oleg’s own devices attached to her back whirled in alert. 

“Hmm? Sorry, did you say something?” 

“No, not really.” Evertsen paused, “I was only going to ask what you think, but I don’t think it's needed.” 

“I’m impressed, really!” Oleg pushes up her goggles, “Seriously, this is real forest magic. What did you do exactly? I can’t get an accurate read on the plants’ conditions.” 

“Added nutrients. Simple as that.” Evertesen places her fingers between the petals of a tomato plant, “We have other greenhouses that are completely self sufficient but Zeven and I like to use this one to train. These plants usually only get our care.” 

“And I can tell, they’re thriving!” Oleg points to a bundle of rather fresh yet still unripe produce, “I think I finally have a project I can work on!” 

“Good. I was hoping we could help you out of your rut.” Evertsen raises and eyebrow, “Erm, what would that idea be exactly?” 

“Well, you see,” the tinkerer tries to look around, “Um, where’ Zeven, this is actually related to her.” 

“She’s trying to handle the other end of the greenhouse. It's a big building so we need to cover all the ground.”

“Ah, well, I hope I’m not rude, but I thought I saw her talking to her plants before.” 

“Yup, she can do that. I do too, but she has the special ability of actually hearing their thoughts.” 

“What?” Oleg blinks rapidly, “How?” 

“I don’t know either and neither do the people who created us,” Evertsen shrugs, “We just guessed it was our Wisdom Cubes giving us things. That sort of thing.” 

Quiet, but accepting, Oleg knew full well of the changes to their construction. Every kansen from a certain point in the war have been produced with wildly differing, yet useful abilities according to their nature and origin. Iron Blood produced more girls from their tales of yore, Sakura Empire wielded much more powerful warriors harkened to their culture, and the Northern Parliament… Oleg made sure to keep quiet on the developments under her people’s care. She knew full well what they were planning and rather keep those secrets for Soyuz to handle - while still being able to have the freedom to craft her own. 

And she has that idea now. 

“Ah, I understand that look.” 

Oleg smiled at Evertsen's quick understanding because she had a purpose besides simply watching fellow kansen’s activities.  

“I have my own plants,” Potatoes, “Back home that I can use for study.” 

Evertsen frowned slightly, “I hope they’re cared for.” 

“They are, don’t worry! I brought them from home!” 

This eased Evertsen, much to Oleg’s glee, “Alright. Well, if you want to go ahead, you know the door. Zeven and I can wrap up here.” 

“Thank you girls for letting me see the greenhouse!” Oleg announces, hoping to get Zeven’s attention while she heads towards the door, “I think you gave me what I needed!” 

“Okay! I hope your project turns out well!” Zeven says her farewell from afar, hands on a lever, “Uh oh.” 

“Uh, do you think she needs my help?” 

“No, we can deal with it, I know exactly what happened. See you later, Oleg.” Evertsten waves before assisting her friend who now runs from a black smoke of what was a mechanical device. 

In the back of her mind, she felt as if it may have been a bad idea. Zeven’s ability is not exactly something to replicate and the fact Oleg didn’t ask to use her as a study subject was relieving yet concerning. Evertsen knew her plants enough that they’re not exactly dumb creatures, but they aren’t fond of a lot of the industrial nature of humanity. If Zeven’s accounts are to be assumed. 

“Evertsen! Help! It's on fire!” 

“Okay, okay, I’m coming, hang on.” 

Upon entering her quarters, Oleg passed by a resting Kazan. The pink harried fellow of hers lounged on their shared couch - snoozing away under a book. Their training last night wore both of them down, but Oleg had her means to bounce back. That means being the modified coffee pot in the kitchen, but it's neither here nor there. 

Oleg’s workshop shined under several lamps. Strewn about are a series of tools, turrets, and side projects that the inventor either couldn’t work with or use at the time. She heads straight to the workbench in the middle. Activating the arms attached to her back, the gadget whirled to life at her inputs. She quickly drafted up a blueprint for the little handheld device she wanted. 

With deft precision and practice, the diagram of a box shaped object came to view. Oleg basked under the artificial light at the idea given form. Now it was her time to craft it from the designs. Breaking out several boxes of scrap metal, parts, and recovering mistakes of her past failures - Oleg began the short work of her idea. 

Meanwhile, while her machine came to light, she quickly pulled up the plants she spoke of. Sitting atop an open table near a well lit window of the workshop, Oleg retrieved the awaiting potatoes from home - nothing special about them besides the fact she whisked them away from their own greenhouses. 

“First this and that,” Oleg removed wires and attached them to a speaker box, “Next,” clicking sounds are made with the speaker as it is turned towards the rather large pot of potatoes, “And finally,” the kansen stopped to admire the simple design she made. 

A box with wires attached and two speakers. One for audio to hear the plants and one side for her to speak through it. Although, she found the second option to be inert - since according to Evertsen, the plants can hear her anyways. Either war, Oleg focused on the device. Ready to hear the thoughts of the vegetation from her homeland-

knock knock

“Come in!” Oleg knew who it was, the aroma of coffee coming through. 

“Hey, Oleg.” Kazan comes in, easily walking around the mess, “I wanted to get you a drink, would you like it?” 

“Yes, please!” Oleg looks at her, “It has milk right?” 

“Of course! I know how you like it.” 

“Okay, set it aside at the usual spot. Thanks Kazan.” 

“You’re welcome, dear.” Kazan leaves, sipping her own drink and familiar with the focus of the tinkerer. 

In this brief talk, Oleg’s eyes grow wide when she hears hints of voices. Forgetting moments ago, she quickly sips her drink and listens. 

The results of hearing the plants were nothing like she expected. 

“Comrade Mikal reached the chicory garden, sir.” 

“Good, we must enact our plans for assimilation.” 

Oleg almost spit out the coffee, “Oh boy.” 

“The pines refuse to listen to us and the evergreens are stalwart in their devotion, I believe if we don’t get the chicory’s support we’ll resort to more violent means.” 

“Yes, we need to.” Oleg assumed it was the leader, the largest potato sprout in the pot, “As we did with the wheat.”

This unlocked a memory for Oleg. Before she left home, they had an odd outbreak among their grain crops on base. They of course had a mixture of farmable land and greenhouses to maximize food production for the war. As such, when the wheat on base suddenly failed, the cafeteria was full of certain foods for a week. 

It ruined many of her experiments and made meals a bit tense in the mess hall for a while. 

The dots connected and Oleg gulped, but she had to keep listening to confirm. 

“We must spread the Tatar Truth, that we the potatoes are the most supreme!” 

Plant revolution? Normally, much like the rest of her country women, she would’ve mind supporting such a task. But the more she listened the more she realized the potatoes she brought from back home had something more in mind than the Glorious Revolution of the Northern Parliament. 

But this was beyond a Glorius Revolution, this was a-

“We must enact our Great Crusade!” 

Oleg eyed the speaker with accumulating discomfort. She checked if the potatoes can see her, considering they do technically possess ‘eyes’. Luckily, they are still largely submerged in the dirt only with the resonating signal of Oleg’s invention continuing the contact and unwanted monologue. 

“As said from our great leader, Ioseph Spudlin, “Death is the solution to all problems - no plant, no problem!” 

Cheers erupt from the other taters within the pot, at least Oleg assumed because she was more focusing on the shovel nearby than the fact they quoted a leader of her past. 

“We’ll soon gain control of the ‘green ones’ and harness enough power to over take this so-called ‘Tulip’ Kingdom. It sickens me that these plants have given into the power of the ‘big one’ and the Traitor. We must cleanse them both and exert our will!” 

The designations were simple for Oleg - Zeven and her little plant she keeps so near. The fact they called the plant a traitor almost makes her want to laugh, if their tone didn’t sound so murderous. 

Not wanting to listen anymore to the plants, she removed the speaker and set aside. Oleg dismantled her project and stared at the pot for a long time as the scrap fell into their respective buckets. Sighing, she digs up all the potatoes and places them into a bucket. Taking her empty mug and the bucket, she walks back inside the shared dorm between her and Kazan. 

Standing in the kitchen, Kazan was looking at the cupboards before she saw the bucket of potatoes. A part of her died that she killed a budding insurrection, but deep down she knew it needed to be done. 

“Want to make some draniki?” 

“Oh, thank you, yes! I was wondering what to eat for lunch!” 

“I think this may be enough to invite our Tulip friends over,” Kazan studied the contents, “Wow, you used all that you brought from home. You sure you want to cook it all?” 

“Yeah, we can grow more anyways,” Oleg nods, “I felt that we needed to eat this batch for no particular reason.” 

“Did your experiment go badly?” 

“I don’t think I need to explain,” the inventor grimaces, “No chemicals or anything just uh, did something and didn’t like it. So, about that draniki?”