Legends

Interlude I: Mary's Memories

The heat wave brought two things to Long Beach. Tourists fleeing the colder climates up north and beer. Though Mary had to admit the two went together regardless. Because the image of last year's St. Patrick's Day party... gah! If she took a larger gulp off her Belgian White her companion didn't comment on it. Long Beach's two largest permanent residents had their own little paddio set up on the rocks. Mary, Queen Mary officially, was 5'9" with a bust size that was only slightly smaller than Normandie's. Her bushy red hair was pushed back out of her pale green eyes, a hallmark of her Scottish heritage. Held it place by a long blue ribbon, another nod to her past. Her nearly scandalously short shorts were not something she would have ever considered herself wearing decades ago but California was bound to rub off on her somehow. She considered herself fortunate in many respects, least of which being able to sit out on the rocks and look out across the harbor. None of the girls she knew, besides her daughter and niece, could do that. It was the most obvious aspect of the bond between flesh and steel, girl and hull that all kanmusu had. Mary's was different in that she was not affected by the changes made to her hull as other girls would be. It meant that even as as nothing more than a floating hotel, with no engines, no boilers, no ability to move, Mary the girl could still walk, run, and make jaunts into town.

The same could not be said for her companion. In contrast to Mary's slightly tanned skin, and robust healthy appearance, the smaller girl looked sickly. Pale white skin covered a lanky body that was nearly skin and bones. She had jet black hair pulled into a ponytail, salt stains encrusting her neck. Her blue eyes were shaded by a pair of sunglasses that Mary got her. She had a large clear glass filled with ice and vodka. She was relaxing against her sail.

"You sure you don't want some shade Scorpion?" Mary asked.

"The sun does me good." She replied.

Mary kept one eye on her. It was becoming increasingly difficult for her to hide her concern but Mary had good reason to be worried. Scorpion's condition was getting more and more frail. Admittedly both ships were on the wane but Mary could tolerate it better than Scorpion could. The submarine was completely bound to her hull, what it felt she felt. Mary was not although she was still reliant on it for survival. The fact that the hull was in as bad condition as it was and she still didn't feel it made her wonder just how far that tolerance went. If her hull sank could she survive it? No one knew. Any kanmusu over 100 years of age was no longer bound to their hull but Mary was only 85, no where near the age and Scorpion was even younger.

The curiosity/mystery/insanity that was Magical Sparkly Shipgirl Bullshit! (TM) would forever be just that. Mary had a suspicion, a feeling based on blurry early memories that may tell her why she was like this. She wasn't built. How she knew that she couldn't say. It was just a feeling. She existed before her hull existed. The Laws of Shipgirls (if there was such a thing!) had made it necessary for her to 'join' (was that the right word) with a steel hull. But she lived before that. She had a vague barely discernible memory of walking down a cobble stoned street in what she believed was Southampton, maybe Liverpool. Her sister was with her, just a toddler in appearance swinging from their father's hand. Mary pictured a handsome man with bright blue eyes. Their mother was even more beautiful. She had Mary's red hair and green eyes although not as bright as the Scottish girl's. Where Mary had robustness, her mother had leanness. She was smaller, skinnier but somehow more graceful. And she vanished as quickly as she appeared in her daughter's memories. Mary could not remember seeing her after joining with her hull in the yard. Not that she hadn't searched.

....................

1934, SOUTHAMPTON ENGLAND

Being able to wonder was a great advantage and Mary was more than your average curious kid who wanted to see everything. She had given her foster parents the slip and made her way down from the Clyde to Southampton. It was the height of the Great Depression and more ships were in port than at sea, the lines unable to afford the great cost to send them out. Two behemoths were docked side by side, both gorgeous four stackers. One had red funnels, like Mary knew she would have, the other had gold. Something about the gold stacker attracted her, stirring something in her memory. So she found the nearest gangplank and walked aboard.

It wasn't hard to find the ships' spirit. After all, how many woman would be aboard a laid up ship. She was at a first class bar or what used to be a first glass bar. The counter tops were dusty, the cabinets beginning to show signs of cobwebs as the spiders invaded. The girl, no the woman, did not show such signs of decay. If anything, she was even more beautiful than Mary had somehow imagined her to be. She had red hair, like Mary, but the shade was not as bright nor were her locks as bushy. They were straighter and went right down to her waist. Her skin was olive, matching Mary's. She wore a simple black dress, such a drab color for a lady. Her hair was kept back by a diamond studded tiara and around her neck was a necklace who's style matched that of the chandeliers.

She knew Mary was there, and turned to face her. "What do you want?" Despite her harsh tone, Mary was memorized. Her eyes were bright green, exactly the same shade as she saw in her memories.

"Sorry to disturb you, I was just uh..." She began.

"Well you have, go away." The woman turned her back.

Mary was not perturbed by the rudeness. Talking to the untalkable was one of her greatest joys in life. "Can I at least know your name? Mine's Mary Blackwell." She introduced.

Seeing that she wasn't going to be rid of the youngster so easily, the woman turned back to face her with a sigh. "RMS Olympic."

"Lovely name." Mary pulled up a seat beside her, pulling out a bottle of Scottish whisky from seemingly nowhere along with two glasses.

Olympic took a closer look at her. "What are you?" She asked.

"I'm a ship." Mary puffed up a bit, feeling slightly indignant.

"I can see that." Olympic snorted. "Not even completed yet either. But you shouldn't be able to leave your hull."

"You mean you can't leave?" Mary asked.

"No, believe me I've tried. Maury has too. We all have at some point. If I could have left I'd..." Olympic broke off, her eyes narrowing as she fought off a secret pain.

"You'd what?" Mary wondered.

"Forget it." Olympic hissed in a low tone. Mary didn't argue. "You haven't answered my question." Olympic prompted.

"I dunno. I've always been able to wonder. I think it might be because I existed before my hull was built." Mary shrugged.

"Say what now?" Olympic was thoroughly confused but intrigued all the same.

"I was born. I don't remember when but I know I was. I had a father, a sister who is also being given a hull to bond to. And a mother. When I saw you, I thought of her. I don't know why. But you look-you look just like her. Are you, my mother?"

Olympic's face flushed bright red. "I am NO ONE'S MOTHER!" She roared and Mary knew it was time to retreat. She turned and ran for it, Olympic screaming behind her, her aim nearly on point as the glass shattered inches from Mary's head. Mary sprinted down the gangplank and took a hard left, running up the next one thankfully out of sight of the crazy old woman.

As she paused to catch her breath she realized two things. She was now aboard the red funneled ship and she was not alone. "Are you lost dearie?" asked a kind voice. If Mary squinted she could just make out a petite figure crossing the room towards her. She had mahogany colored hair held back with a blue ribbon that matched her eyes. Unlike Olympic's drab black, a light green dress adorned her frame making her seem like a more cheery sort than her counterpart.

"Um, I dunno. I just uh was looking for a place to take shelter." Mary replied.

"Olympic can be, explosive at times. Come on, I'll make you some tea." Mary was hard pressed to refuse such an offering, especially since the woman seemed to give off such a friendly vibe, so anathema to Olympic's tightly pent anger and grief.

"What's a pretty thing like you doing in the sticks like this?" She asked as she took a cloth and began rubbing the dirt off Mary's face.

"You're not going to ask me how I'm so far from my hull when even leaving it shouldn't be possible?" Mary wondered.

"No dear. Because you probably know just as much as I do. I know when I won't get an answer." She replied, gently pushing a red lock out of the younger ship's eyes. "Now come and sit down. My name is Mauretania, call me Maury."

"Queen Mary, call me Mary."

Mauretania looked her over, admiring her lines. "Mmm, Cunard will surely win back the Blue Ribband with you."

"What's the, Blue Ribband?" Mary wondered.

"I'll tell you."

Mary and Mauretania talked for hours, well into the afternoon. Mary knew she had to get back to Scotland before her absence was noticed too much. For some reason "things" tended to happen around her hull when she was gone for too long. What "things" meant she didn't know and had a feeling it was best that she didn't.

As Mauretania walked her to the door, Mary paused. "Your ribbon, is that supposed to be the Blue Ribband?" She asked.

"A representation of it, yes." Mauretania replied. Reaching back, she carefully undid the tie, allowing her hair to fall about her shoulders. She held out the ribbon to Mary.

"I couldn't!" Mary exclaimed, taking a step back.

"I have no need of it anymore. My next voyage will likely be to Jarrow. I would hate to see this go with me. Besides, I know who my successor is. It's yours."

Mary gently took the ribbon, sliding it through her fingers. "I'll keep it safe for you." She promised.

......................

In the present day, Mary took a sip off her beer, finishing it off in one smooth gulp. She quickly put it in an empty bucket and reached into the cooler next to her to pull out another. As she did her hair flipped about her shoulders and one end of the blue ribbon flicked across her face. She quickly popped the bottle open and set it on the table next to her. With both hands she reached back and undid the tie, allowing her hair to fall where it may. She ran the ribbon through her fingers. Remembering the day she had been given it, long before she had gone into service and won it herself.

A soft breeze picked up, making it easier for Mary to tie her hair back again. She smiled, raising her bottle slightly before drinking it. "Here's to ya Maury." She thought.