Anchovy Peaches [Kancolle][Crackfic]

Anchovy Peaches XXI - Toys In Godland
Anchovy Peaches XXI - Toys In Godland


Gotengo wrapped herself in Haida's blankets and read another of the cartoons that Haida thought she'd cunningly hidden. But light cruisers were for hunting destroyers, rooting out the hiding places of destroyers was easy. Another chapter in Atago's Adventures. Gotengo admired the artwork, but the physics and tensile strength of materials were clearly being ignored.

She winced as she got to the last panel. "I'll never be able to see Jessie and James blasting off again the same way," she grumbled, "Thanks, Atago." She wrapped herself in the blankets and tried to go to sleep amid Haida's scent. Despite how tired and bored she was, she found she was more worried and thus sleep evaded her.

She'd been forbidden weapons and long-range transmitters, so she'd concentrated on receivers and sensor equipment. But the sortie had turned into a sweep, and they had moved beyond the range of her radios, and they weren't going to livestream a battle so that form of inclusion was gone. She didn't want the alarms going off, but she wanted something to happen. The sound of thunder and pouring rain hardly qualified.
------------------------------

I'm getting radar in my next upgrade, Captain Gordon thought as he cruised near Maggie and the Shoukaku-Zuikaku division. He couldn't provide anti-air, but he had splashed a trio of cruisers who'd been lying in wait for the carriers.

"Why do you fire one gun at a time per turret?" Shoukaku said, trying to make conversation to override her nervousness.

"I tried firing a complete salvo of all guns," Captain Gordon said, "I got cramps so bad I'd rather have been set on fire. So one shot from each turret. It also allows one shell per second to head down range. Not exactly a machinegun, but enough to keep ships honest."

U-489, Ecchi-Nein, and H41 surfaced a short distance away, Captain Gordon grimaced at the reaction of the two IJN carriers to the almost unarmed and thus unthreatening sub. "I understand her, but weren't you sunk by aircraft," he said to the carriers as he closed in on the subs, the thermos of workman's tea appearing in his hand. He was careful to stay at arm's reach from the girl.

"I found where they've been hiding," H41 said, "And something weird." She greedily downed the hot, strong tea and held out her cup for a refill. Ecchi-Nein was enjoying her own coffee.

"We're the living personification of ships, weird comes with the territory," Captain Gordon said as he refilled her cup.

"This is beyond that level of weird," H41 said, "Kushi and Goya are guarding the place, but we aren't strong enough to break in, and from what we've already found, torpedoes aren't the answer."

Gordon nodded. "Kirishima, the subs have found an anomaly, they need me to check it out," Gordon said through the radio, "Request some screening forces for the carriers."

"Tenryuu and Tatsuta are on their way," the battlecruiser replied by radio, "Tell the subs not to enjoy buddy breathing too much."

H41 blushed so hard it looked like her red lead undercoat had been exposed. Ecchi-Nein merely waggled her eyebrows at both of them.
------------------------------

The steel of the door was strong, but against the horsepower I was carrying, it was a bunch of stacked heavy boxes. The reason the torpedoes were not the solution to the issue was the small figure in the oversized egg near the door, and the half-dozen that were embedded in the wall of the corridor leading to the door.

They would occasionally move slightly, so they were alive, or exquisite animatronics, so blowing out the entire corridor with a torpedo was out. Goya led the way through the opening while I enlarged it enough for the other subs and finally myself to pass through. Ecchi-Nein stayed near. I still hadn't overcome the diaphragm spasming, although I could stay down a long time, as long as I could occasionally breathe in and out. The jokes about me inflating an Abyssal sub to bursting made the rounds, and considering the run of Atago's Adventures using my mouth to do that was the only novel thing about the jokes.

Inside I nearly collided with the three subs who were staring at the collection of spheres that lined the walls of the corridor leading to a pocket of air. I slipped past them and headed to that air pocket. Above the water was a massive lab. I couldn't have named a tenth of the equipment on the first tray of utensils I saw, let alone all the other material. None of it was the Hollywood electric arcs and flashing lights, it was all clean, well-organized, although the raised walkways in front of some of the taller gear indicated that whoever the operator was, they were the size of a child.

The subs followed me out of the water. I was headed towards several large tubes that had several, more adult forms within them. One I recognized immediately as pieces of a Yamato fused with an angled-deck carrier. It wasn't the typical Abyssal 'shove the pieces together and fill the gaps with monster' technique, she looked like the more careful fusing that ship-girls used. The second was a massive woman, taller and wider than me, but plusher, like building Ecchi-Nein or Kushi at my scale. The last was the shocker, it was me, paler skin, dark, violet hair, and empty, green eyes. She floated there as if a corpse, but occasionally a bubble escaped from her mouth. I could see the places where rigging would go, and that instead of my four turrets, she'd have five.

"It's not their fault," came from behind us. I turned around to see a young girl in a white sundress out of the corner of my eye, then the floor leapt up at me. I was unconscious before it hit me.

------------------------------

It was unusual to see Admiral Crawford in a wet suit, more that he and several ship-girls I'd never seen before hovering over me. "I'm going to guess this isn't normal," I said as the trio helped me to a sitting position. I was off the ground on a table, a multi-bulb lighting fixture, mercifully off, was overhead.

"Are," the ship-girl said, then whispered the rest when I winced, "All right, do you feel dizzy, anything out of place?"

"A lot," I said as I shaded my eyes, "Everything's too loud and bright. I swear I can hear where the walls are. Other than that, I'm just ducky. What the Hell is going on?"

"We were hoping you could tell us," Crawford said, "Your crew has been rather reticent about what happened over the last two days, and while they've been otherwise exemplarily in their help with the other 106 subjects, they've been closed-lipped about you."

"Are Ecchi-Nein and Kushi all right?" I asked, the phrase 'two days' matching the ship's chronometers.

"For a given value of all right," the ship-girl said, "You don't know who I am?"

"I'm glad I still know who I am at this point. Jokes about waking up in an ice bath missing a kidney notwithstanding, I'm assuming I had surgery, an upgrade or both."

"That's a very good way to put it," Crawford said, "Kushi and Ecchi-Nein are fine, if they don't mind being almost as tall as you are and their entire pressure hull replaced with titanium. They haven't had a chance to test it, but I suspect their crush depth and cargo capacity are increased enormously. H29, Goya and H41 weren't resized, but reskinned in HY-130 steel, which regular ships are just mastering the use of. Although their fuel tanks have been considerably increased, much to I-19's amusement," Crawford said, "But from what they told us, you got ambushed by a small child who rendered you all unconscious."

"That's something we'd like to understand," the ship-girl with the forest of cranes as crown rigging said, "Anesthetics are almost unknown to ship-girls. It's no fun having to take an angle grinder to a cute, little destroyer girl to do some repairs and have to ask her to be brave rather than jerk around and scream like a rational being would."

"Not my proudest moment," I replied, "A hundred and something, there's something in Asian mythology about that." It bugged me that the information should have been right there, but wasn't. Then something else distracted from the recall of obscure mythology. "You think I was made here."

"Considering your twin sister is hanging in a tube over there," Crawford said, "It's hard not to."

Another distraction came from the report my captain presented to me. "The Abyssals weren't protecting this place, they were hunting for it."

"So would we be," the ship-girl whose name escaped me said.

"No, I was speaking very precisely. We'd search for it. They were hunting for it. Hunt as in to kill it when they found it," I said and looked at the Admiral, "I assume Admiral Beale has been informed?"

"She's never been happier," Crawford said, "Divers from your crew and Vestal's confirm what the note pinned to your chest said, 'They're good girls, they just need a good crew.' Getting them back to Nishinoshima has been a high priority. The tubes they're in aren't plugged into anything, like a ship in mothballs, it's as if they are just awaiting a crew and commissioning."

Vestal, now that I made the connection, looked at me. "Do you remember this place?"

"My first memory is realizing I was in a nightmare," I told them, "Why would an Abyssal be experimenting with new ships?"

"How much do you know about the Silmarillion?" Crawford asked.

I shrugged. "Read it, what Tolkien fan hasn't?" I replied.

"Feanor could create, take things and make new ones, Morgoth could only corrupt and destroy," Crawford said, "The Princess working here wanted to be able to create new ship-girl types, but aside from the fixed templates and corrupting ship-girls, the Abyss cannot create new. If the Abyssals have a Repair/Construction Princess, it overturns the whole dynamic of the Abyssal power structure. Having the Abyssals able to live without the Abyss is a greater threat than we are."

"Hey, hold the heavy philosophy, I just woke up," I admonished, "So, the upgrades. A bribe to us to rescue her children, proof of concept before we awaken them, just someone who can't leave imperfection alone, what?"

"We'll have to talk to her to guess, but we also need you to get some tests, and be ready to escort the cargo ship back to base," Crawford said.

"My God!" I said, "That's what the upgrades are for. Kushi and Ecchi-Nein can transport them all back, while H41, H29, Goya and I escort them."

"Well, change of plans," Crawford said, "We aren't contenting ourselves with just the ship-girls here. We aren't on a hit-and-run raid. We're taking the whole lab right to the walls."

I received a transmission as did every ship-girl in sight. "I hope your cargo ship is fast, because someone's out to steal your prize."
 
Moje Ostberg's Revenge
Okay, since people like to flex their talents, here's a challenge, I need the names of 30 Swedish Vessels. No names currently being used on modern Swedish vessels can be used. And yes, poor Knut Mauritz "Moje" Östberg is finally getting a navy that can protect Swedish Home Waters, and his name will be one of the ships. Please include a sentence about why this ship is illustrious (or infamous) enough to be considered.
 
Anchovy Peaches XXII - The Only Test Is Combat
Anchovy Peaches XXII - The Only Test Is Combat


The storm is a bad one. Rationality dictates nothing smaller than a heavy cruiser is on the seas. The DDs and CLs are back at the lab, packing up everything to get it moving. Goto's and Richardson's forces are headed home, running before the storm. The admiral had sent the four modified subs back to base with the 106 and everything else that could be stored aboard. I am out in the storm with Northampton, and every maritime strike aircraft the Japanese, Australians, Russians and Americans could put into the air. That included at least 10 squadrons of strategic bombers loaded with nonnuclear munitions. If they could see it, they could kill it.

The trouble would be seeing it. The waves still would have washed over us if we'd manifested our hulls. As it is we're getting drenched regularly. For me it is nothing, for poor Northampton it's like getting sunk every few minutes and hoping you'd come up.

"Swimming lessons are on the agenda for you," I shout over the storm. If we could use RDF to spot the Abyssals, they could do the same to us.

While it would seem suicidal having two lone ships to face the armada, we have four wolfpacks of subs close by and listening. Our job is to catch the leakers, or rescue the subs from a hunter, not to kill capital ships. I feel weird. Stronger than I have since I arrived. And I have to wonder what the price is. My Chief Engineer assured me that he and his team not only supervised but advised on all the changes and there is no hidden flaw within. I have to trust his word, but that just means he believes that.

The change in my armament is striking. The hoists will now support the Mark 8 Super heavies, in fact they replaced all the standard APCBC shells I had aboard. The Ford Mark 1A as part of the Mark 8 Range Keeper replaced my earlier systems. My aircraft announcing guns, all six of them, were replaced one for one by 5 inch/54-caliber Mark 16's with an ample supply of shells with VT fuses. The casements were plated over and all the 6-inch/53's guns there were replaced one deck higher by 6-inch/47's in Mark 16 DP twin mounts. People joked that an Iowa had a pair of Fletchers strapped to each side. I had an entire Worcester-class cruiser on each side.

The weirdest part was the boilers and the torpedoes. Of course the Chief Engineer is in love with the boilers, they're 1200 psi instead of 600 psi boilers, with all the turbines and other systems upgraded appropriately. The torpedoes are Mark 17's and I've got a second launcher on both sides, replacing one of the casement mounted guns, but retaining the armored covers. Armored covers were added for my original launchers.

All in all, it's a serious upgrade. Weapons, sensors, engines, my range took a hit, but I could still run from Australia through the canal to New York on internal fuel, at 16 knots.

At the moment, all that meant is I could clearly see what is coming at us, and that I'd come up short against it. At least three Ru-class with a Battleship Water Demon leading, a slew of cruisers screening, although at the speed they're coming in, they'll miss the subs completely. That's only the first group, they have a similar group using Ta-class, Ri-class and an Ancient Destroyer Demon to the north, no telling who's the leader of that one. To the south a Southern Demon, with a pair of Nu-class CVLs and a swarm of Tsu-class who are getting the snot beat out of them by the weather. What's below I don't know, but the subs haven't reported anything my radar hasn't already picked up.

The southern force is the one I'm most worried about. If the others keep on their course, they'll miss the evacuation area by miles. The southern force will run right over them. Then comes the question: if we kill the southern force, will it attract the other two, possibly over the evacuation force? Damn.

I glance over at Northampton, and she has no special wisdom from her proximity to an admiral. I remind myself that the job I have is to let the subs do their job and keep them from being harassed.

"We have to depend on the subs," I tell Northampton. She nods and a wave crashes over her.

"Or we could let them drown," Northampton says.

The first explosion hit the CVL, a second, and then one hits the Southern Demon. The Tsu-class begin zigzagging and I get ready to intervene as needed. Then I stare to the north and note that neither of the other groups are reacting. I heard the coded transmissions from the southern group, but the center and northern force aren't moving to support them.

"They aren't cooperating," Northampton says, "I don't think they are from one princess."

I shake my head. It's ridiculous, but she's probably right. Then my radar picks up one of the Tsu-class moving in a straight line. It's locked onto something, probably one of the girls. I raise my guns. I've not tried firing multiple shots from each upgraded turret, but that's about to change.

Radar gives me the course and speed, and my sensors tell the computer how I'm moving. I bring the guns to bear, a high-elevation shot a non-ship-girl could never make and await a high wave to disguise the gun flash. I fire and a moment later I'm nearly swamped, but eight shells are up and on their way.

"HELP!" comes through the hydrophone from H29 I'm guessing, she's too aggressive and got too close to launch her torps. One then another of the Tsu-class are hit by torps, then the staggering CVL takes a second hit and begins going down. The Tsu-class racing after the sub intersects the pattern of plunging shells I fired. It's a wide pattern since I didn't know which way she'd turn. One high-capacity hits the girl in the head, burrows in and a moment later she's just scrap spread over several dozen yards. Complete miss with seven of the shells, and a kill shot with the eighth, I'll take it. The Demon however has realized that the subs have help. She's zigzagging and trying to get the remaining Tsu-class to follow suit. The carriers are a lost cause, one sunk, the other limping away.

"BUFFs, stand by for Arclight," I send, drawing the Southern Demon's attention. She likely can't decrypt the signal, but she probably did detect it and zero in on the direction. Too bad.

The directional beam radios on the Air Force planes are a bit too sophisticated for my systems to easily decipher the data strings, but a grid coordinate tickles my antennae and I move to be ready to draw them into the kill box.

"Stay here as backstop," I tell Northampton, "And watch to see if the other forces turn. If they do, we need to lead them away from our teams." I head off at high-speed to bait the enemy into range of the BUFFs. Despite there supposedly being no enemy subs in the area, I zigzag. They pick me out of the ocean clutter, I hear their radar pinging off me as I turn and head towards the drop zone. Shell splashes chase me, and the Southern Demon is sending off frantic signals. Whether to call back her overenthusiastic charges, or get help from the other groups I don't know. I enter and exit the drop zone and give the BUFFs the word.

"They're three to five miles behind," I send.

"Get out of there, Captain Gordon," the air wing commander says, "With this weather, danger close could be a mile."

"Deassing the area," I reply and verify that the Demon hasn't gotten her troops under control.

The bombs aren't stealthy even by the standards of the day, so a couple of the cruisers take rapid evasive action as my radar, tuned to a very specific frequency, lashes them. They don't expect the bombs to chase them. The cry of rage from the Demon as her forces die is audible even over the storm.

"Fine," I say quietly as the last bombs turn the water into a seething mess. I pick off the few cripples with my secondaries. The main guns are loaded with superheavies, overkill against cruisers at this range. I dodge the initial fire of the Demon as she tries to get a bead. A straddle and a crash stop and change of course and the next salvo goes wide. She's a better shot at range than I am, despite the improved fire control. I'm still learning to use it, and now is not the time to take chance shots when my suddenly going radar dark and dodging behind waves as tall as I am repeatedly ruins her aim. I also realize that if I was built in the lab, I have one massive dupery advantage. Though my guns are sextuple 16" weapons the rigging turrets are too small for battleship guns on a ship-girl, although Abyssals carry those guns with much smaller turrets. She must think I'm just a big cruiser. She's enjoying terrorizing the `cruiser`.

I circle, treating the sea more as a moving land with hills and ridges, keeping the Demon in radar `sight` as she tries to pick me out of the clutter. Unlike many in WW2 I know just because I can `see` the radar it doesn't mean the sending ship is getting a return. A sharp turn as a wave passes between us and a flat calm follows. It's vaguely unsettling that the higher ranked the Abyssals get, the more attractive they get. The lure of sirens I guess.

The observation doesn't prevent me from putting three shots from each turret downrange at her. She wasn't expecting it and doesn't even attempt to dodge, or maybe she expects her armor to withstand light cruiser gunfire. The twinges from my arms and turrets tell me two shots per turret is about my limit for simultaneous salvo. The shots have done their job. Four direct hits and splinters from two near misses hit the Demon. The follow-up salvo of two shots per turret all slam home into the stunned Abyssal. She doesn't understand as she sinks into the turbulent sea.

A quick check with the maritime strike aircraft confirms the other forces are proceeding on their past courses. Funny, a hand-to-hand fight I'm okay, a long-range gunnery duel and I get the shakes once it's over. I maintain my evasive maneuvers, as there may be a skulker lurking out there.
 
Anchovy Peaches XXIII - If It's Stupid but it Works . . .
Anchovy Peaches XXIII - If It's Stupid but it Works . . .


Angie was waiting for Gotengo to return. The former Abyssal was one of the few ship-girls left on the base, and with that few, she'd been allowed to patrol. The storm that the Abyssals had brewed up was going to be over the island soon, so Northampton had recalled Gotengo and the other surface and air patrols. She wanted to avoid the Hurricane Halsey situation, and the subs could dive beneath the worst of it and still maintain an active picket.

She was not happy to find Admiral Beale had arrived with a C-130 full of `experts`. She could stomach the woman in small doses, but she was always tempted to find a baseball bat and explain to the admiral about human interactions. She'd been through then Warrant Officer Smiley's hand-to-hand, technically rape-prevention, training as had every female on the base, both ship-girls and humans. Sexual harassment had dropped to zero when it got around that a Gurkha had taught all the pretty, young things, and the older ones, what to do when offended/threatened.

Angie judged she had about a 50-50 chance against the admiral. The admiral making small talk was just creepy.

"Waiting for their return?" the Admiral asked.

Angie wondered where Delaware had run off too. "Yes, sir," Angie said, "Gotengo's out with the patrols, and the subs are sending troops back. Last I heard, the battle was still going on. Wouldn't the CIC be a better place to observe or manage the battle?"

The admiral nodded, ignoring the not so subtle clue to bug off. "Here she is now," the admiral said, then froze as not one, but three, five, seven, eight figures stepped out of the water and stared back at the sea as if waiting for another. They had no rigging, all had various half-healed injuries, but their glowing eyes and pale skin told anyone who knew, they were Abyssals.

Without their rigging and mostly white-haired, pale-skinned women, Angie could only guess at their type, but she knew they were flagships or demons at least, the three smallest had to be a Light Cruiser Demon and a pair of Destroyer War Demons. Angie knew enough not to run, and began sidling slowly towards the door. Even if Gotengo arrived, only Northampton and Delaware were available for defense, they would be outnumbered and outmatched. Even Angie knew the `joke` that they were here on Nishinoshima so they'd only need one nuke to deal with any problem. It seemed that it wasn't a joke anymore.

One of the Demons caught sight of them, and froze in terror. Angie looked behind her to see if Captain Gordon had arrived unexpectedly, like Northampton yesterday, he'd been sent back to base with some wounded, but was farther away than Gotengo.

"Guys," the Demon groped backwards, not taking her eyes off Angie and the Admiral. She managed to grab another and yank her around. That Demon froze too.

"Stand fast," Admiral Beale said quietly, "Go big or go home."

Angie interpreted that as let Beale make her gamble, but be ready to run.

"Curfew was four hours ago," the admiral said as she approached, tapping her watch, "I assume there's an explanation for this behavior?"

The Demons tried to get themselves in a semblance of a line, they saluted, a third with the wrong hand, and tried to look both military and innocent. But you needed training and experience to do that, they apparently had neither. "We were unaware of the rules of the base being we are, ah," the largest one said, holding the salute as Admiral Beale hadn't returned it.

"Swedish," the helmetless Destroyer Demon hissed.

"Yes, I mean ya, Swedish," the Demon said, "It's why we're so pale, and we look so funny, Sweden has many diverting ship designs."

Angie stared at the line of nervous Demons. I'm more Swedish that they are, she thought, The Swedish Chef is more Swedish than they are.

Gotengo's arrival made it both better and worse. She'd obviously caught the ninth member of their group, and looked ready to take on the other eight on principle. The Demons looked at the former torpedo cruiser, the fallen figure with her black hair and single horn, a Battleship Water Demon, then back at the former Abyssal whose hand had dropped to the knife at her side. One of Mister Smiley's specials forged of Abyssal steel, this one from some of Gotengo's own armor belt.

"Ship Gotengo," the Admiral ordered, "This Swedish squadron arrived without properly checking in, and blind drunk if their behavior is any indication. Please escort them to the brig. We can sort this out when they've sobered up."

Gotengo cocked her head in disbelief.

"Please," the admiral said again.

"You two, pick her up, and carry her with us," Gotengo said, "Then follow me."

"How did you?" the admiral asked as Gotengo passed her.

"Same way I could take out any other Abyssal, it's the one thing they've zero defense against," Gotengo said as she led the terrified Abyssals out of the bay.

"Wait," the Water Battleship Demon said, "There's another force out there, one we were running away from, that's why we didn't radio in, we were trying to evade them."

It worried Angie even more that Gotengo had evidently defeated the brains of the operation, and now they were right back where they'd started, with an Abyssal force between them and the fleet.
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Gotengo was glad to see Willie D, the destroyer instantly summoned her full rigging and prepared to sell her life dearly. "Fall in behind, we're taking this Swedish squadron to the brig for being drunk on duty," Gotengo said and watched Willie D's expression change from resigned terror to utter incredulity.

"Swedish?" she said as she looked over the group, "Swedish?"

"Lutefisk?" the Aircraft Carrier Water Demon said, grinning weakly.

"Look," Gotengo said sharply, "You know who you are, we know who you are, our admiral's orders are to not acknowledge it, don't get into the habit of lying about it. Just accept you've got this far, and understand that you're walking across a razor blade, don't make it worse by sitting down and trying to slice forward."

All the Abyssals winced at that, but fell in behind Gotengo and ahead of Willie D.

The arrival at the brig was interesting. "Major Callahan, good to see you, this squadron of Swedish ships arrived on duty drunk and the admiral's orders are to lock them up until they sober up."

The chief marine on the base looked over the nervous Abyssals and the confused Willie D, then back to Gotengo. "Did Kongo put you up to this?" he asked.

"That would make things easier," Gotengo said, "But no, they arrived without transmitting their intentions and Admiral Beale wants them to sober up before she talks to them."

"Yeah, Delaware called us, I thought she was playing a Kongo," the marine said, "Corporal Wilcox, take these ladies to the brig, individual cells, have some food brought in and read them the rules."

The marine was pretty enough to be a ship-girl, but she was also one of the few who taught beside Mister Smiley. "This way." She unlocked the door and beckoned the Abyssals forward. The nervous crew stayed clumped together, then seemed actually disappointed in the cells.

"They don't do the special punishments the Abyssals do," Gotengo said, she waited as the last Abyssal entered her cell, and the corporal left the cell block to arrange for food.

"Now you all listen to me. There's an old human saying you need to remember: 'No better friend, no worse enemy'," Gotengo said, "If this is real, you haven't chosen an easy option, just an easier one. If you want to transition, there will be times you get so confused it will hurt in a pain that exceeds anything you ever suffered. I and others will be there to help you through that. You'll learn a lot about yourself in those times, and you'll get a lot of questions that gnawed at you in the dark of the night answered."

She swept the group with a gaze. "But if this is a fake, a deceit, if you hurt my friends other than to save their lives, I will deliver you to pain and terror beyond anything you've ever heard of, beyond anything you can even imagine. And only when I believe I have inflicted anguish and dread on you until I believe the lesson of your failing will carry onto your next incarnation will I permit you to die. Are you clear?"

"As glass," the Destroyer Water Demon said.

"I like her, she's scary," the Battleship Water Demon said.

"Am I interrupting?" Wilcox asked as she entered with a clipboard.

"Just explaining that my move from Chi-class to Gotengo was harder than anyone imagined, even me," Gotengo said, "And that actions have consequences. Say, Corporal, does Mrs. Tenent make house calls?"

"I can ask, she's probably in bed already," Wilcox said.

"Pity, I could show you part of, well, I have a better idea. Is Major Callahan still out there? I need to borrow back some DVDs I lent his son. Willie, can you get my player from the subpens?"

"Sure, shouldn't you clear that through Admiral Beale?" the destroyer asked.

"Good point, I'll still need the DVDs and player if she says yes," Gotengo said.

"This isn't one of those 'beyond anything you can imagine' things, is it?" the Southern Demon asked.

"Sort of, for some," Gotengo said, "But I survived it."

The Abyssals exchanged nervous glances.
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Admiral Beale despised the mothering that Delaware was obsessing with after 'her admiral' had escaped the danger, but she ignored it for the moment as she tried to contact the rest of the Allied forces in the area. They still had the secure landline to Yokosuka, but the storm prevented the secured radios either here, at Crawford's island, or both from communicating. But it couldn't wait.

"Admiral Crawford, your squadron from Sweden arrived, they were drunk so Gotengo and Willie D took them to the brig where they can sleep it off. On a personal note, Angie is staying with the subs tonight due to the storm. And frankly I don't blame her, how many princesses did it take to generate this monster?"

"At least five by our best guess, thank you," Crawford said.

"What can you send to get them squared away?" Beale asked.

"Other than what's on the way, nothing," Crawford said, "This isn't Typhoon Cobra, this is Typhoon Violet, we have 12.5 psi and 170 - 180 knot winds. The cargo subs and their escorts, and Captain Gordon, with two wounded subs and a chewed on DD. Everything else is sheltering in place or running south at best speed."

"The safety of your command is your highest priority," Beale said, "Handing you off to Captain Simonsen." She gave the phone over.

Beale moved to where Major Andre, a French liaison officer who usually worked with the ex-French colonies on setting up coast watchers, was talking with Goto's staff. "They can't send anything either and although the BUFFs can fly over most of this, nothing can see through it to shoot anything," the French officer said, "They are hoping this one blows out like Violet did."

"I'm not ordering anyone to sail through this, but God must be testing us," Beale said and finally accepted the coffee and corn bread Delaware had practically been chasing her with for nearly half-an-hour.
------------------------------

The Southern Demon stared at the ceiling of her cell, although with the worsening weather outside, she preferred to think it their bunker. Her thoughts were on the edutainment that Gotengo had provided them before lights-out. "I want the name Twilight Sparkle."

The Anchorage Demon said, "The Swedish Government has to give us names, we can't pick them. I want to be Pinkie Pie."

"They should name you Fluttershy," one of the Destroyer Water Demons said.

"I didn't say named, I'd like to be her," the Anchorage Demon said, "So happy. The shadows are to be giggled at, instead of feared."

"Get some sleep," the Battleship Water Demon said, "They are going to have a lot of questions, and no matter how much they make our skin crawl, we have to answer them."

"I want to be Rarity, so elegant," Light Cruiser Demon said, and suspecting the retort, "Although we should name our Destroyers Rarity and Spike."

The chuckles from the others went unremarked on by the two being ridiculed.

"I still think Nightmare Moon was being subverted into training them," the Aircraft Carrier Water Demon said, "How could she fail to just kill them?"

"Ladies," Corporal Wilcox said, "Lights out means go to sleep, she's right you've got a busy day tomorrow."

"Yes mommy," one of the Southern War Demons said, and was disappointed by the lack of reaction.

Southern Demon
Anchorage Demon
Southern War Demon (2)
Aircraft Carrier Water Demon
Light Cruiser Demon
Destroyer Water Demon (2)
Battleship Water Demon
 
Anchovy Peaches XXIV - The Payoff Begins
Anchovy Peaches XXIV - The Payoff Begins

One of the things I hated about this universe since I became Captain Gordon was that many of the front line fighters were small, charming, cute, little girls. The wounded I-47 in my arms had almost her entire side as a massive bruise as dark as her swimsuit from a near miss by a depth charge that still forced her to the surface. A snapshot in the battle had prevented the cruiser from gunning or running her down, but she needed a repair bath soon. Half her crew were in my sickbay and the other half were keeping her alive, nothing they could do would make her seaworthy.

The other sub, U-3008, was held on by cables, her fuel tanks were ruptured and her engines would go out if she had to diesel back to base. I had little diesel to spare and transferring from the other sub was fraught with problems in these seas. The destroyer, Ushio, was trying to keep a weather eye, but had shipped enough water to nearly sink before I'd forced her to dismiss much of her rigging and hauled her out of the water and onto my shoulders. She was doing her level best to keep U-3008 squared away as I raced through the mounting seas at a speed that exceeded unwise and shaded into desperate.

The snippets of transmissions hadn't added to my equanimity. I wasn't sure if the transmission was about a squadron between Crawford and home, and meant his command was surrounded, bad, or if they were between my flotilla and home, worse, which would require a fight in seas where nearly every hand was needed to keep the ship afloat and the two subs alive.

Radar was almost useless, I thought as I tried to see past the waves and spray, I would give my eye teeth for a towed sonar array or a friendly Los Angeles-class.

I calculated how hard I could push and avoid swamping my charges or running out of fuel myself. The sea state was worsening, forcing a reduction in speed, which would mean a worse sea state as more of the storm overtook us.

A secondary concern was ammunition status. Seventy rounds of HC and APCBC combined per gun seemed plenty, until I'd fought three enemy squadrons as the only major gunboat in the force. A fourth force without the subs and airpower to support me was chancy.

"Multiple targets, 285 relative," Ushio said from her higher placed radar, "They're moving away. HOLY SHIT ONE RIGHT ON TOP OF US!"

Stupid, I thought the instant I executed the sharp turn, You're a warship, why dodge a collision with an enemy?

The small carrier still was sent flying from the glancing impact. She looked a bit like a Gambier Bay-sized Wo-class, and she bounced off the waves a few times before she sat amid the seas. I swung the guns around at the small figure rubbing her head. The only weapon she appeared to have was a single mount that looked like a parody of a battleship turret. I could have crippled her with the secondaries, but they were in a worse ammunition state than the main batteries, and one HC shot was all it would take. The look of joy on her face as she looked at me gave me pause as the lookouts checked for an ambush closing on me or braced for a massive detonation from her magazines.

"IT'S CAPTAIN GORDON AND IT'S GOT CHAMPAGNE!" blared out from her radios on a dozen frequencies in the clear, "FLEE, SAVE YOURSELVES!" She then knelt in the water in front of me. "Depth charge, depth charge," she said and gestured back towards the radar bearing Ushio had give me earlier.

"I'm out of depth charges," Ushio admitted, a lone gun pointed at the figure in the water.

"Coward!" came the transmission in reply, "Sell yourself dearly!"

"Mine," U-3008 mumbled and handed a hand grenade-sized sea mine to me. "Seven, six."

I got the clue and threw it on the indicated vector as far as I could. The explosion was impressive.

"I was wrong," came from the carrier over the radio, "It's all so clear to me now. Come join us."

If she was parodying a blissed-out hippy, she couldn't have done better with a Coexist bumper sticker on her cooking oil-powered VW van.

"We've got something coming in, and it's big," Ushio said, she pointed with her free hand.

"Got torps still," I-47 said, "Pu' me inna water."

"I've got torps too," I reminded her and got a glimpse of what looked like an Abyssalized Iowa, only with a Colorado or Nagato style and sized rig. Then a wave came between us. When it cleared the woman was a lot closer, but she'd dismissed her armament rig, I couldn't tell if she was naked or wearing a throat to toes bodysuit, but she slowed and knelt beside the carrier.

"Mine, mine, mine," the carrier said, sounding the way the Seagulls from ~Finding Nemo~ wished they could sound.

As U-3008 counted down from eight, another mine was sent back along the vector, and resulted in another impressive explosion. I was desperately hoping that U-3008 had the rest safed, or that was her last one.

"They're retreating at high-speed," Ushio reported, "What's going on?"

"You don't have stickers?" the battleship asked, "I have acetate sheeting and a grease pencil. And a staple gun."

A quick consultation with the crew gave me no clarification as to what was happening. The carrier had taken my inaction as an excuse to pull the items from her sleeve, and extend them towards me. She'd dismissed the gun mount, but her hat remained.

"I know you're supposed to pick the names, but I'm Furious," the carrier said.

"I'm a little out of sorts myself," I replied as I accepted the items and let I-47 hold the staple gun while I wrote Furious on one sheet. The girl leaned forward. "I am not stapling this to your forehead, for one thing you wouldn't be able to see."

My crew had provided me with a more normal stapler as I handed the staple gun back to her, wary she'd fire it at me. But both seemed quiescent. I stapled the name tag to her collar, and she grinned so much she reminded me of Shark Dentures.

The battleship had a stricken expression. I was already writing Joshamee Gibbs on the second sheet. Yes she was wearing a bodysuit, and I stapled the acetate to her clothes. She beamed at me.

What's going on? I sent by signal light to Ushio where they couldn't see it.

If you're asking about champagne and stickers, Ushio sent back the same way, I haven't the faintest idea.

"Captain Gordon, Captain Gordon, this is Blackjack, Blackjack overhead," came over the scrambled radio.

"Blackjack, Blackjack, Captain Gordon, Captain Gordon," I sent back, "Are you declaring an emergency, are you -"

The laughter at the other end interrupted me. "In Mother Russia, bomber plane rescues battleship," the voice said, "There are multiple Abyssal signals at 20 kilometers, but they are heading away. There were two that were closer, I say again two that were closer, do you need assistance, do you need assistance?"

"Blackjack the two close in have been dealt with, the two close in have been dealt with. Can you verify vector to Nishinoshima? Can you verify vector to Nishinoshima?"

They gave the vector which matched our charts and assured us their plane was both above the bulk of the storm and made from recycled T-34s so would withstand any storm. What they relayed was more than troubling. "Admiral Beale requests you make best speed, a squadron of Swedish ship-girls arrived, drunk and she wants more resources to deal with it," the plane's radio operator sent, "At least they aren't Finns."

"Any reports on damage?" I asked.

"None, Gotengo kept them under wraps," came back, "Comrade, it's not the drunk, it's the hangover in the morning believe me."

"Swedish? Other than Swede Momsen do the Swede's have a blue-water navy?" I asked my charges. Most seemed to think not. I then looked at the pale-skinned blondes before me and it dropped into place. "Please tell the Admiral we found the other two Swedish ships and are bring them in," I said aloud as I transmitted.

"Bork, bork, bork!" the Furious said happily.

I-47 groaned as she covered her face. "Where's my home? It was around here a few minutes ago."

"All right," Ushio said, taking the position of the Exec, just getting things done, "Furious stand up, Gibbs, stay where you are. Furious put your arms up. We'll never make home if we have to depend on you, or us other little ones sailing in this."

The carrier did as she was ordered as I drew closer. I realized Ushio had read the reports about Gotengo's conversion and she was following a similar pattern. I took the carrier's wrists and ignored her horrified expression. Physical contact between rank-and-file Abyssals was always violence, and pain. "Dismiss all your rigging, I won't let you sink," I told her.

The seconds ticked by, the storm forgotten, the war was on the face of a little Abyssal carrier. The reality of her situation, her most treasured hopes and her deepest terrors flashed across her face. The encouragement from the battleship mattered not, she had only the legends and whatever stories she'd heard.

She bowed her head, accepting her death, and I had merely the weight of a young girl hanging from my arms. Her hat remained and patted her shoulder. I was glad of the vote of confidence as I lifted her clear of the water, and the battleship underwent her own crisis of faith as she realized I was lowering the carrier onto her shoulders. Two terrified faces stared from the depth of the ultimate Abyssals' hell as the carrier settled on the battleship's shoulders her head between the carrier's legs. Both were suddenly at the total mercy of the other. If the carrier summoned her full rigging she would crush the partially manifested battleship. The battleship could tear the carrier girl to pieces with trivial effort.

"You were willing to die for each other, now you must live for each other," I told them, "This isn't the easy path you imagined, but the hard way is far easier than the easy way."

Ushio and I reached over in unison, sending both girls into a flinch. I carefully tousled the carrier's hair, while Ushio did the same with the battleship.

The frightened whines from the pair changed slightly to a happier sound as the contact continued.

"Let's get going," I told them. The battleship nodded as she stood. She craned her neck to look at the carrier perched on her shoulders. The frightened carrier put her arms around the battleship's forehead and settled atop her head.

"Okay, manifest only your radar, from up there you've got better range than your battleship, drier too," Ushio said.

The battleship fell in behind me, she very carefully reached out and touched U-3008, rubbing her head gently as she'd received.

"The Great, TransPacific Cuddlepile," I whispered, causing Ushio and I-47 to laugh.

As we got to maximum safe speed, a dozen or more Abyssal destroyers began porpoising out of the water around us.

"That's just our screen," Furious shouted, "They don't understand but will follow orders."

"Who do they think is whose prisoner?" Ushio asked.

The perplexed silence didn't help. "Admiral Beale is going to have a fit when we come ashore."

"If the seas get much worse, I think she'll be amazed we made it," Ushio said.

I was inclined to believe her.
------------------------------

A134A US Maximum BB 1934A (Max Fast Battleship)
120N FURIOUS (1) 1917
 
Anchovy Peaches XXV - The Play of Gods and Demons
Anchovy Peaches XXV - The Play of Gods and Demons

Gotengo didn't mind getting wet, and a storm while ashore was of little concern. What she had to do was intercept her friend before he did the logical and obvious thing. The subpens had a protected cove, and a 4 meter climb into the pens themselves. All that would ease the effect of storm surge, but it also meant that the base's human population was crammed in there with the subs looking after them while a typhoon exceeding anything on record lashed the oceans and anything within them.

It hadn't taken a genius to realize that the `Swedish` ships that Captain Gordon had located could not be allowed into the subpens, that Captain Gordon's cargo needed to go directly to the repair baths had given only one course of action. Someone with the weight and armor to survive the storm would have to lead them to the standard baths where only a few damaged ship-girls waited out the storm that had battered them. Delaware was the only heavy ship they had, and only Gotengo was crazy enough to risk standing on the shore with a wagon to haul the destroyers to the repair baths.

The appearance of two, laden battleships gave her a twist in her guts she vaguely recognized as jealousy. What am I jealous of? she wondered as she made sure her searchlights were still all lit, A new battleship would be of little interest compared to the one who's already shared his bed and driven away his nightmares.

"The subpens are out, so we need to get them to the standard baths," she shouted over the noise of the storm. She drew the wagon near the shore and began loading the Abyssal destroyer flotilla into the large wagon.

"Where's the rest of the Swedish squadron?" he asked as he leaned close, stealing a kiss on her ear. Then the other battleship began loading the total of fifteen destroyers into the wagon.

"The brig," Gotengo said, "With this weather I think they're content to stay there. Only the mad would go out in this."

"Glad you're crazy," Captain Gordon said, as the two subs and the destroyer tried to snuggle against him, staying dry had long been abandoned but there was security to being firmly attached. "The carrier is Furious, and the battleship is Joshamee Gibbs."

Gotengo tried to tell him what she thought of his idea of wit, but finally just rolled her eyes. "Of course they are. We'll get them situated, then I'll talk to them."

The Battleship dismounted the carrier and drew the wagon along with them, with Gotengo helping occasionally, but mainly leading.

The rest of the fast walk went without incident, other than Gotengo's incredulity that two Abyssals would ride piggyback without trying to knife or worse to each other. Or would do manual labor side by side. The destroyers acting like dogs on a car ride was sufficiently disturbing that she tried to block it out of her mind.

"What's communication like?" Ushio asked, "We tried to transmit."

"Ah, let's get the Swedes settled, then talk shop privately," Gotengo said, suitably embarrassing the destroyer for her lapse in OpSec, "You can chat with your friends later."

There were a few, battered girls in the baths, and a few SeaBees and Mister Smiley looking over them. The building wasn't as strongly built as the subpens, but it was still steel-reinforced concrete, and the Sea-Bees had build it on isolators so if the island sank, they'd float away.

The two Abyssals watched as Gotengo lowered I-47 into the baths. What shocked all was when Furious climbed into the bath and just held I-47 from the unwounded side. She knew what was going on, and gave a knowing look to Captain Gordon. Then Joshamee added about half the destroyers to the bath. They moved into a semi circle then just floated about like grotesque bathtoys, absolutely quiescent.

Placing U-3008 into the next bath had Joshamee and the rest of the Abyssal bathtoys joining her. Cuddling the sub, who very much appreciated it.

"I'll keep an eye on things," Ushio said, "Besides, I like giving battleships head pats.

Gordon squatted down to receive his, before Ushio climbed into the bath, the Gurkha gave both a knowing smile and Gordon left with Gotengo.

Once they were back out in the storm, their false cheer fell away. "I sometimes wonder if my crew's action made you an emotional mirror image of me," Gordon said.

"Or if I'm just being a chameleon," Gotengo said, "I don't know either."

"So what commo gear do they have left?" Gordon asked, depending on the storm to keep any eavesdropping impossible.

"The land line to Yokosuka, we've lost everything else. The planes are at alternate landing sites and the subs are our only patrol line, those girls in the baths tried to stay out and the weather battered them to uselessness," she said.

Gordon put his arm around Gotengo and enjoyed her snuggling close. "How about you?"

"Better now that you're here, but I'd rather have the whole US battleline, I was worried with nine, now there are eleven," she said, "And those destroyers."

"How many did you take on?" he asked and got a snort from her.

"Only one, but it was a Battleship Water Demon," Gotengo said, "Abyssals sometimes forget that while they don't have to breathe underwater, there are consequences when they try."

Gordon smiled and almost laughed at that.

"She didn't expect a mere cruiser to approach as anything other than a suppliant, and her poor knees were exposed," Gotengo said, "And the beast that's her rigging didn't act without orders which were suddenly too chaotic to make an effective battle order."

"I realize I've created a monster," Gordon said.

"She gasped and laughed, then raced for the surface as I got to her waist and she left a steady stream of bubbles as she made it to the surface," Gotengo said, "Then I got creative." She gave the 'Vulcan Salute' and folded down her ring finger.

"You didn't," Gordon asked coldly.

She pulled away and confronted him. "I did, I am well aware that had I done that to a human, there would be a very different consequence, but for Abyssals? Most of us think we have those parts so Demons and Princesses can torture us without damaging our weapons, rangefinders or propellers. If pleasure in touch comes, it comes from or goes to a Princess, even Demons don't, lesser ranks don't. The friendliest touch between the ranks is a punch light enough that it doesn't mar your paint too much. You're thinking too much like a human poured into a ship-girl suit. Touch and no threat of violence is such an alien concept I have no idea how you arranged that carrier to ride the battleship's shoulders without them murdering each other." She pointed back to the building. "You saw them in the bath, the idea they could cuddle another ship and it would be accepted and rewarded with safety is better than any high you can imagine." She narrowed her eyes. "Would it have been better to shove my knife in there open her up like a can and rip her boilers and turbines out? That's the other way I could have won that fight. This is either a war where we use the enemies' programing against them or we don't and lots on both sides die. I chose to give her the option of living. You want to refer me for charges, fine, I don't regret what I did and without orders to the contrary, I'll do it again, unless the girl objects."

"We'll bring it up with Richardson, when he gets back," Gordon said, "It's a really complicated area, and very easy to misconstrue."

"Fine, I'll go back to killing them," Gotengo said, and stalked off.
------------------------------

H41 found Gotengo in the `mausoleum` where the rescued girls remained serenely in their tubes and eggs, waiting for when they could awaken. The sub-girl had fled when the other four got zapped, and then had to figure out another way to get the massive door open to rescue her friends. Then she'd been captured and reskinned. That all of them had changed so markedly made Gotengo's sudden decent into sullen isolation so hurtful.

"Are you all right?" she asked, careful to approach the girl from the front where she could be easily seen.

"I screwed up, and am considering my options," the cruiser said, "Maybe I'm not fit to be out and about without a keeper."

H41 hated seeing Gotengo so sad. The cruiser was one of the few who understood a ship-girl that hated to be touched. She loved talking, telling jokes and being with other ship-girls, but they always had to touch her: head pats, rubbing against her and driving her crazy. She'd been slaughtered in safe harbor at the dock by a friendly ship right after a refit. When she was at her safest and most relaxed and happy, she'd been butchered by a friend.

The most Gotengo had demanded was that they sometimes held hands, with their arms outstretched. It had made being with the other girls a bit more bearable. H41 felt an obligation to help Gotengo.

She laughed bitterly. "I told the other Abyssals that confusion would hurt worse than anything," Gotengo said as she drew her legs up under her chin, "How little did I know."

"Maybe if you talk about it?" H41 offered.

"I told Captain Gordon, and he said I should wait and talk about it to Admiral Crawford," Gotengo said, "Sometimes I wonder, you ship and sub-girls are alive, the Abyssals that come from ship-girls are alive, am I just an artificial intelligence? I can copycat being a person, but is that just the simulation? You all do things automatically, I have to think about it all the time, and I get it wrong so often it's ceased being funny."

H41 extended a hand, and after a moment's hesitation laid it on the cruiser's shoulder. "You are a person, we all make mistakes, we all are here because we don't fit in with normal ship-girls," H41 said, "Making mistakes is what kids do all the time, you're just having to go through it as an adult."

"But none of the kids on the base are given the level of responsibility being an adult requires, they make a mistake they only hurt themselves, if I make a mistake it can hurt a lot of people." She looked up at the figure in the tube. "You carry all that experience with you. You have it automatically. Even Captain Gordon who was never a ship before. Maybe it's that an Abyssal cruiser and below doesn't have it."

"No one who'd be asking those questions is not a person," H41 said, "Asking those kinds of questions, feeling what you're feeling is kind of what being a person is all about."

"I think it would be easier if I just cracked this tube open and sent my crew over there. Another battleship is of more use than a cruiser, especially when the cruiser doesn't know all the rules of humans. Maybe a battleship would know them all. My crew deserves better than me. Transfer them over and use the husk for supplies."

"We are not scrapping you because you made a mistake," H41 insisted. She was terrified of what would happen when she got this close to an undirected cruiser, but she knew what was needed. She settled her head on Gotengo's chest and hugged her tight. "We love you and will help you with anything."
------------------------------

Walking into the brig had been a strange experience. Gordon knew he should be thinking Gotengo out of her mess, but he had too many things on his mind and all of them were getting short shrift.

"These are them," he said of the collection of terrified to worshipful Abyssals. He wanted to tell them he was no messiah. If he were he'd be with Gotengo and her vexation. Instead, he was here doing a job that wasn't even his. Then he realized it might be. He recognized many of them, and many of their injuries. He'd inflicted them after all.

But those were dreams, he thought, They didn't really happen. But the match up was too close to be faked. Both Southern War Demons, and both Destroyer Water Demons have head injuries. The Aircraft Carrier Water Demon and Anchorage Demon had scarred over belly wounds where I'd driven my pitchfork through the former, and ripped open the latter. The clincher was the terrified expression on the Light Cruiser Demon. It matched the creature I'd 'let live' thinking I'd killed the others.

It hollowed out what Gotengo had done. She hadn't tried to murder her opponent, just forced them to surrender. Then again how the Hell did my dreams inflict actual injuries on them?

"You'll have to be checked, and unless your crew is different than most Abyssals we've seen, as you advance along the process you're going to lose some." They seemed very surprised by that. "The odd thing is you'll get new crew members, we don't really understand all the nuance of it and you'll be learning it as we go along. We'll get you to the repair bathes so your injuries can be healed."

"Is the cruiser all right? They said she went to the baths," the Battleship Water Demon asked, "Why isn't she with you?"

"There are things you don't need to know yet, and she's fine, she was escorting two more Swedes to the baths," he said, "There are questions about you, and there's going to be a lot of discussion. When I turned her, it was much the way you were turned, a defeat. The rest of you are defectors and that begs a whole lot of questions. The most important is how to treat both sides fairly. I need to know what you want to do. Do you want to give up war and just live?"

One of the Southern War Demons nearly threw herself at the barred door. "The deep with that! I wanna fight like that paper promised, I wanna see how I can beat my foe, and know I'm better!" she looked at the others before continuing, "But you'll make us give up our weapons, how am I supposed to fight when I don't have a gun or torpedo, and no guff about fighting with my mind or putting stickers on others. If I can't lay fire on target, what's the point."

"Did you like fighting the seas to get here?" he asked.

"Yeah, I could live with fighting through that," the Abyssal said.

"Then I'll have you talk with Lieutenant Christopher," Gordon said, remembering the Coast Guard officer, "Before he got hurt, he was part of an organization whose motto was 'You have to go out, you don't have to come back.'"

"Okay, I'll listen," the Abyssal said.

"What's this about champagne and stickers?" he asked, and the Battleship Water Demon handed him a drawing by Willie D.
 
Anchovy Peaches XXVI - When Is a Demon a Savior?
Anchovy Peaches XXVI - When Is a Demon a Savior?

The arrival of Admiral Crawford and the entire force should have been the subject of a party considering the enemies and the storms they'd survived, and the treasure trove of equipment, knowledge and intelligence they brought. Instead, he called an all hands in the large aircraft hangers that normally housed the patrol squadrons. When he ordered the SeaBees and the Swedish Squadron to attend, as well as every civilian contractor on base, we all knew this was to be no ordinary briefing.

"That typhoon hasn't gotten weaker, it's gotten worse," Crawford had whiteboards with the projected course of the storm and the likely places it would make landfall. "Best estimate, in 96 hours, it will hit Okinawa, cut right through the center of the island. They are preparing for it, but this far out of typhoon season, no one is ready for it." Crawford looked at his command.

"The relief efforts will need ports or airports to arrive, nothing is going to sortie out of the Japanese main islands while that storm is out, so that means three days we'll be on our own. I say we, because we are going to chase it, stay on the outer edge and follow it in. Because we won't need anything to come ashore but a beach."

The maps of the likely landing sites depended on where the storm hit, and where the rescue efforts would have to be concentrated. He looked at the Swedish Squadron. "Normally it takes the better part of a thousand hours to train up EMTs and heavy equipment rescue workers. By my estimate, we'll have 64 before we put to sea. Then we'll have the transit time, but that's going to limit what we can do to classroom only."

"Captain Gordon, Mister Gibbs, can you manifest your hulls? We'll need them after we make landfall, and frankly, we'll need them to make passage."

"I think I can," Gordon said.

"I can," Gibbs replied, "I've gone through the crew exchange so I'm good, but why do you need our hulls now?"

"Because we're taking everything, lass," Edwards, the head of the SeaBees said, "We're taking everyone, every piece of equipment, all the food and medicine we might need and that's going to need a lot of heavy-lift seapower, and two, fast battleships are our best transports."

"I've already talked to Richardson, they can fly in destroyers to put a cordon around this island tomorrow," Crawford said, "But they can't sail anything because this storm isn't following a normal course. There's never been a typhoon in May and if it makes land fall on Formosa or Japan, Goto and Richardson are going to need their heavies to do what we'll be doing on Okinawa."

"What do we do if it misses Okinawa and heads for the mainland?" Angie asked, she'd already guessed that 'everyone' meant everyone, or all the kids wouldn't have been at the briefing as well.

"We chase it to where it lands. Like I said it'll take a while to get help and if we arrive first, so much the better," Admiral Crawford said, "For those of you who've never been through something like this, don't think 'Oh, I'm only' there'll be work for every set of hands, we'll need your crews as well. Once we make land fall, my plan is to position Gordon and Gibbs near the surviving hospitals to provide additional surgical suites and power. Yes, Kushi?"

"The treasure trove? We wake them up too?" the sub asked. She looked more like a comic book valkyrie now, not quite as well upholstered, and a lot taller. But little else had changed.

"We'd need crews, and your crews are going to be spread thin maintaining a steaming watch and acting as shore parties," Crawford said, "And we can't guarantee they'll be like Furious and Joshamee."

"Any other questions? As I said, once we make landfall, we'll work with the civil authorities, to fit in to the plans they'll have in place, or if it's as chaotic as the response to the Kobe Earthquake was, we'll pass out the parrots and peglegs, and run up the Jolly Roger, because we're doing it anyway. Northampton, dismiss the formation."

"Department heads, attend to your departments, fall out!" Northampton ordered.
------------------------------

Being completely a ship is weird. My crew are strapping down bulldozers, road graders, and trucks on my deck while more material is being stored below. Maggie and Furious are being used as barrack ships for the people, Northampton has the command staff and will be the place the ship-girls can go on break. The plan is after the first two days, it'll be 20 hours on, 4 hours to get food, a wash and a cuddlepile, before going back in. I briefly wonder why this is coming so easy to Crawford, that he's done this before? And he's planning this to be a marathon, not a sprint.

The Abyssals are already looking haunted. This is not what they signed up for. They've all been issued t-shirts with the red cross emblazoned on the front, and a Swedish flag on each sleeve, not the Swedish Naval ensign. As powerful as I am, I can't simply sail into the middle of the typhoon and shoot it. I'm not used to feeling helpless, waiting for the disaster to strike. I think that's what's getting to the Abyssals. They're used to hit it back or hit it first. This can't be hit, the Red Princess and her coterie whistled up this storm, and we all have to wonder, can they do it again. Frankly hurricanes and typhoons would be more effective weapons than fleets of ship-girls, if they could be created and drift towards their targets. Maybe that's why they haven't done it before, too much chance of it looping back on them.
------------------------------

Crawford looked across his office desk at the Battleship Water Demon and then to Gotengo. "Do you wish to press charges?" he asked, having heard Gotengo's confession about the manner of her subdual of the much stronger Abyssal.

The Battleship Water Demon stared at him. "Admiral, as far as most Abyssals know, we've got those bits so more powerful Abyssals can hurt us so it doesn't affect our rangefinders and weapons. It's usually called inflicting noncombat damage."

"That's a particularly unpleasant euphemism," Crawford said.

"It was surprising," the Abyssal said, while Gotengo would not lift her eyes to look at either of them, "But it was not worthy of charges. I'd barely count it as wrongdoing. More like an opened door." She took Gotengo's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I understand you must protect the strong from preying on the weak, but this is the weak showing the strong that there are ways of interacting that do not require violence. Maybe there is a fancy word for it, but it was not rape nor assault by any standards I recognize. It was an overture, one I accepted. If I had objected, I would have torn her into pieces."

"Very well, I consider the matter closed," Crawford said, "Lieutenant Danuvanta, although no one seems to be able to pronounce it to his satisfaction so he goes by Mister Smiley, gives a rape-prevention course, once we're underway he'll brief you and the others on what is and isn't allowed. And as an Abyssal, I'd recommend limiting yourself to breaking fingers, one to start with, it's usually all that's required."

"I understand we're supposed to divest ourselves of our weapons," the Demon said, "That might be difficult and might have been why Gotengo had such a problem when she transitioned and we haven't yet."

"I'll consider it," Crawford said, "Otherwise, this matter is concluded, no official record or reprimand required. Just be careful Gotengo, a lot of people will never understand the Abyssal mindset."

"Yes, Admiral," Gotengo said, her expression lighter than it had been. She actually blushed when the Demon kissed her cheek.
------------------------------

The little human looked down at the Anchorage Demon whose head was still ringing from her hard impact with the padded floor. "It's all about leverage," the smiling man explained, "Same for moving heavy things, and debris is just as hard to predict how it moves."

The Anchorage Demon knew that with her rigging, she could flatten the little man, but the skills he had to teach them had to come fast and memorably.

"All right, do not laugh at our friend, learn," the man said.

"Yes, Mister Smiley," the other Abyssals said as they looked at the demon towering over the man in the coveralls. Who'd just flipped her off her feet without breaking anything or even straining.

"Now we give you some quick lessons in how to fall so you don't hurt yourselves," the Gurkha told them.

The group lined up, and tested the technique he was teaching. None were sure how that would affect what they were to do, but they were used to taking orders.
------------------------------

Edwards wasn't sure if he was training dogs, or ships' crews. Seventeen Abyssal destroyers, each prominently painted with the Red Cross flag, stood in a half circle with part of their crews `dismounted`. The chief of the SeaBees was pretty sure that Furious and Gibbs had arrived with fifteen, but he could have remembered wrong.

"The key to search and rescue is to find the people who are still alive. Your hydrophones and sonar are a good way of determining if there is a hollow for the people to be in, and to determine if they are alive or not," he said, "This isn't the same as the ping and listen. It's a much more difficult technique called Ultrasonic Testing. You have to be able to detect the weaknesses in material you're moving. If a slab has a big crack that doesn't penetrate to the visible side, when you start moving it, it'll break and fall right back down on the people you're trying to rescue."

The destroyers looked at each other nervously.

"We aren't sending you out on your own, we'll have experienced people with you, but you have to understand what they are doing to help them," Edwards said.
------------------------------

Watanabe Kanji looked at the ruined office building and realized that as Ministerial Secretary to the Deputy Minister of the Interior he was now one of the few who remembered the emergency plans for storm surge and earthquake that had been thrown together to deal with a powerful typhoon arriving completely out of the typhoon season, and the mainland withholding supplies for fear of it landing there in the next few days.

His superiors were dead or trapped and injured, and the fury of the storm hadn't even hit. He had been at Kadena trying to convince the Americans to keep some of their personnel at the base to deal with the disaster. He had expected to arrive here with a triumph that only the planes, pilots and the dependents had left. If the Marines and Air Force had given in more easily, if he had arrived an hour earlier, he would be within the twisted ruins, instead of bearing this terrible responsibility. Without the authority of the senior officials or the seeming of authority, he feared a repeat of Kobe. He offered a prayer for their safety and their souls, but turned back to the young men and women who suddenly looked like a pack of confused children to him.

"Secretary-san, what do we do?" asked the most senior, a young woman younger than his own granddaughter.

"We will remember what was discussed, and we will take charge," he said.

"Without the ministers?" another asked.

He nodded. "The ministers will be rescued or mourned, but we know their plans, and Tokyo cannot send us replacements. The Americans will help, and I will not turn away any hand offered. We must move whatever we will need in the coming days to more secure places." He looked up at the storm front that dominated the sky. "And we'll have to hurry."
 
Anchovy Peaches XXVII - Orpheus from the Sea
Anchovy Peaches XXVII - Orpheus from the Sea

Ogashira Hiromi stood under her umbrella and watched the ships approach. The two, massive battleships, heavy cruiser and two, light carriers seemed both vastly powerful, and too small to deal with the disaster that had unfolded behind her. The winds and rain were dying down enough that it wasn't a threat to life and limb to merely be standing out in the open.

The massive vessels seemed too graceful as they slowed and stopped short of the shoreline. People, presumably people, jumped from the decks to walk across the water towards her.

"HMCS Haida, we need to know where we're needed," the girl said as she handed over a large briefcase, "The plan is to get the Kadena airfields open, and a port. Then deploy the battleships to provide power and personnel to the most important hospitals."

Hiromi nodded. "When your Admiral comes ashore, I'll take him to the command center."
------------------------------

A dozen Abyssal destroyers got under the slab, and lifted. Several, smaller sub-girls wormed between the ground and the slab and began pulling the people out of the hole they'd been trapped in for days. The sonar kept a weather eye out of any growing cracks in the slab. There were none as the subs moved deeper in to collect the frightened and injured. Most didn't acknowledge the appearance of the creatures making their egress possible.
------------------------------

The generator received a solid kick, and Gordon's Chief Engineer gave a thumbs up to the poor kid who'd been assigned to get this beast working. The poor kid looked in amazement as the backup for the hospital sprang to life.

"Yo," the Chief Engineer made a slicing motion and the generator fell silent. With the Captain Gordon providing power, the back up was back to being a back up. All they had to do was be sure it would function if they needed it.
------------------------------

The road grader pushed rubble off the surface of the runway. Further down, the kids were already doing a FOD walk away from where the work was happening. Even six-year-olds could walk in a line and pick up anything that was on the concrete, and they were doing that, proudly. A small group of sub-girls were overseeing it, verifying if something dangerous or heavy was found. They also kept the line from getting too close to the heavy machinery. Once planes could actually take off or land, no child would be anywhere near the flight-line, but now you just needed the eager and some diligence. It also kept them away from the hospitals, the blood and the terror.

Vladivostok was now nowhere near the expected landfall of the storm. The Russians' planned response of ten construction battalions and two field hospitals were ready to go where needed, but even Russian aircraft needed half-way decent runways, especially heavily laden as they were. The SeaBees and their helpers would have this landing strip available before night fall.
------------------------------

Gotengo walked with the clipboard. Those who could not be saved asked her to record their names, some last thoughts for their families and data that would assure they would not simply disappear into an unmarked grave. She knew that the Japanese were famous for not being troublesome, but this beggared the imagination. She took down the words, took a photo of the person's face if they weren't injured there, a set of their fingerprints, and recorded all of it in a growing database of those they couldn't save.

At least I'm not having to deal with the dead, she thought as she moved. She saw another nurse dealing with sobbing children as their deceased mother was taken away. She knew she would have no skill dealing with that, fortunately she was tasked with dealing with the singletons who had no one.
------------------------------

At any other time, Callahan would be having words with the sergeant who'd led them here. Right now, he was trying to figure out why the Yakuza seemed so ashamed. Twenty of Captain Gordon's medical team deciding to travel with them hadn't made any of this make any more sense.

"It's there," the local `Don` of the area pointed at a cave-in that only an expert would pick out of the cliff, unless you knew where it was. "We've tried to dig it out, but it just collapses more."

What are you trying to dig out? Callahan wanted to shout at either the Don or his own sergeant. The two of them had been talking in circles, in Japanese, and it was wearing on the Major.

The fairies marched towards the cave-in and assembled in a semi-circle with three ranks. Seven in the outer and middle, six in the inner. Something like static or St. Elmo's fire started to dot the rocks and fallen trees. As Callahan watched, the tiny figures extended their hands and the debris began lifting away, rocks, trees, boulders you'd need a bulldozer to dislodge just floated up and away. Some lifted slightly, supporting the rest of the hillside.

Callahan followed the Don and the sergeant. Inside the small cavern were large, plastic barrels. The major helped the pair to remove the barrels as quickly as they could before the fairies tired and would be forced to let gravity and the loosened soil reassert itself. All twenty-five barrels later, the fairies let the hillside slump.

"They are truly divine," the Don said as he looked at the exhausted medics, "But, this is yours. About twenty-six hundred kilos of uncut heroin, and fourteen hundred kilos of pure cocaine. Your doctors may find that more useful than our customers."

"Do you want credit, or did Scotty beam this down from the Enterprise?" Callahan asked.

"They will know, but no one can prove anything," the man said.

"Thank you," Callahan turned to the sergeant, "Lets get these all back to the doctors."

The sergeant nodded and he rolled the barrels to the back of the truck, while Callahan plucked up the exhausted fairies.
------------------------------

The last thing Crawford expected to hear as he walked through the Captain Gordon was laughter. But from the modified berthing spaces that housed several thousand, homeless people, he heard the laughter of children. Intrigued, he wandered over and spotted Kanji using a support pillar to obscure himself as he watched Floyd ineptly doing magic tricks, and getting the young ones to laugh at its antics.

"I had lost heart," Kanji said, "But you Americans will not even allow laughter to die without a fight."

"We have to have our happy ending, or the world isn't right," Crawford said quietly.

The children laughed again as Floyd looked for the card, which was bigger than it was, yet the kids could see it was somehow stuck to its back.

Crawford smiled at that, and then headed off to ensure that the ship-girls were getting their rest, food and cuddletime. He knew if he lost even one of them, they were in serious trouble.
------------------------------

Nagato and Mutsu led the fleet from Yokosuka towards the port of Kadena City. It had been opened by the heroic efforts of the SeaBees and their Russian counterparts. Five days had passed since 'Crawford's Problem Children' had landed, and the communication had been spotty since the storm had dissipated as it missed Taiwan and would be a cleansing rain when it made landfall in China. Whatever hateful magic had powered the storm had broken up as it left Okinawa, the storm had followed suit. A half-day behind them were the slower ships of Richardson's fleet, Standards and the subs of both forces. As well as tons of supplies that had been held for a disaster on the main islands.

The welcoming party appeared small, she had expected Admiral Crawford to be present, but a transmission from Willie D had said he'd been called away, the food and fuel situation had 'gone from worrying to dire', and he had to deal with it. Nagato was also carrying an order she wished she didn't have to deliver. Watanabe-san deserved a medal, not official censure, but he and Crawford had vastly overreached their authority. The US Navy would be hard-pressed to attack the man who'd charged into the teeth of a storm, conscripting uncertain allies to save the lives of proven allies. Even Admiral Beale was pushing for Crawford to get his second star for the operation.

But no one was speaking for the Ministerial Secretary of a dead Deputy Minister.

Nagato froze as she spotted the honor guard, not because it was small, that was expected. But Willie D and a Ru-class Battleship both with their rigging out stood on the pier, side-by-side, saluting as the fleet arrived. Both had the thousand-yard stare of those who had seen Hell for far too long. The Abyssal's female section wore a t-shirt marked clearly with a Red Cross, so she was not to be fired on, but Nagato almost didn't want to know what was happening here.

The pitch pipe shocked her out of countenance. "Yokosuka Fleet arriving," Willie D called, "Apologies, we are forbidden to fire the signal guns to avoid making people believe an air raid was occurring."

Nagato saluted. The Admiral was aboard Kongo, much farther back in the fleet.

"Nagato," the Battleship said, "If you have sent ships to reinforce the pickets, please inform them that additional Swedish Red Cross volunteers will filter in," the battleship turned to show the Swedish flag on her sleeve. "There were eleven when the force landed, there are now twenty-seven of us, not counting screening destroyers."

Nagato only numbly nodded as she sent the inconceivable message. She glanced over at Mutsu, having heard no clever or embarrassing asides from her sister, she wanted to verify that the battleship was still there. Mutsu was staring at the Ru-class who seemed not weary, but worn down.

"If you'll follow us, the teams will help with the unloading," Willie D said. She led the arriving battleships and heavy cruisers off the ramps and towards the headquarters.

Kirishima rushed up and looked at Nagato and Mutsu, as if to ask if she should open fire. Willie D stumbled, the Ru-class caught her and pushed her back on her feet. "What happened here?" Kirishima asked as she lowered her weapons.

"The Great Kanto Earthquake," Mutsu said and shivered, she glanced at Nagato who remembered it and shivered herself.
------------------------------

"Do you understand?" Nagato asked as she burned with shame. She had orders to deliver the message, it made her feel unclean in ways she didn't know how to deal with. She'd forbidden Yamato and Mutsu to accompany her for just that reason.

"Is Admiral Goto going to relieve me? The rescues have fallen to almost nothing, but the survivors must be housed, fed, and kept warm," Kanji said, a polite and respectful smile on his face.

"I am unaware of any such orders," Nagato admitted.

"Well, then I must inform Admiral Crawford and General Chuikov that they will be taking up the mantle," Kanji said, and let Nagato imagine the furor in the parliament that news of an American Admiral and a Russian General were heading the Japanese relief efforts. "I suspect that Admiral Richardson will get orders similar to those, but I suspect he'll take the Nelsonian tack, put his blind eye to the telescope and not see the signal."

Nagato quietly wished an Abyssal would walk up behind her and just shoot her.

"I was ordered to deliver the message, and assure myself that you understood it," she said, "I have no further orders beyond that point."

Watanabe-san nodded then stood and bowed. Nagato returned it, then left the office. She nearly got her wish, a Destroyer Demon wearing what was practically their uniform, a Red Cross-emblazoned t-shirt, waited in the anteroom.

"I've been ordered to take you to the new headquarters," the Abyssal said, she had the same haunted expression as all the other ship-girls Nagato had seen, `Swedish` or not. Nagato could only nod and follow.
 
Anchovy Peaches XXVIII - Death of Eurydice
Anchovy Peaches XXVIII - Death of Eurydice


Yamato looked around the mess hall nervously. Then at the huge bins that were there for her, Musashi, and the four Iowas. The voice of Captain Gordon echoed through the hall from the speakers. "I already tested it, it works," he assured his fellow battleships, "Nothing wrong with it."

"Well, I," Yamato said, trying to be lady like, "I'm not sure."

"Look," he said quietly, "You want to ditch the 'Hotel' moniker? I know what that feels like despite being hospital and power plant at the same time. You want to sortie regularly to protect your homeland and the little ones?"

Yamato nodded, her initial irritation overwritten with fiery purpose.

One of the attendants opened the lid of the bin full of shredded paper with occasional chopped up staples, paper clips and even some aluminum binder clips. "Then eat the expired red tape. Occasionally I'd season it with some scramble eggs or a biscuit."

The old chief stood by to verify the 'destruction' of the contents of the bins had been fulfilled.
------------------------------

Goto hadn't met Floyd before, so when the former Abyssal had requested a meeting with the three admirals about a 'situation' he was not filled with joy. The meeting room was in a building at Kadena, and no ship-girls were invited.

The coral-like fairy had a very thin packet prepared, in Japanese for Goto, in English for the Americans. "Floyd Floyd Floyd," the fairy explained that the survey to verify all crews were present or accounted for, was to make sure they hadn't lost anybeing trapped in rubble or some other minor to humans mishap.

"Floyd Floyd," the fairy explained that when the numbers came in, it hid them and brought the data to the admirals. "Floyd Floyd," it said as it literally walked down the list of numbers.

"Did you mislay a decimal place?" Crawford asked, "No Iowa had 7000 crew, let alone 70,000."

"Floyd," said it hadn't.

"Kongo never had a crew even a twentieth this size," Goto said of the enormous numbers he was seeing.

"Floyd."

They flipped to the next page and saw that Bismarck was only 12% over strength.

"They're drawing in all their historic crews," Richardson realized, "The need for shore parties is so great, so every hand that arrives is welcomed."

"Floyd," the fairy said and flipped to the last page, photos of the treasure trove back on Nishinoshima.

"Admiral Beale is going to be over the moon about this," Crawford said and grinned to his fellow admirals.
------------------------------

It was 0204 hours when the alarms sounded. Captain Gordon's crew got all the thousands of civilians bunking aboard calmed down as all the watertight doors were closed. Not to prevent sinking, being on the flat ground, well inland assured that, but so blasts would be limited to one area.

All of the five-inch and about a third of the six-inch could bear on the incoming targets. The destroyers who'd spotted the incoming had brought them under fire as they passed overhead. He could have brought the sixteen-inch antiair shells to bear, but this close to the hospital they would do more harm than good.

Eleven Abyssals of Elite rank or higher used the vast bulk of Gordon's manifested hull as a noise wall as they brought all their antiair to bear. They began scoring hits on the incoming aircraft, but there were a lot of them.

In the flag bridge, Admiral Richardson watched, depending on his eyes and binoculars, while Admirals Goto and Crawford fought the battle from the ship's CIC with radar and radios. Richardson had never been aboard a ship-girl, it was weird having the ship-girl there, yet spread throughout the ship.

"How many?" Richardson asked, more to himself than anything else.

"Can't tell, lots," Captain Gordon's answer came crisply, "Best guess 150, reports are that Gibbs is under similar attack, but she can use her main batteries safely."

"Yo," one of the watch-standers reported, one-hundred confirmed targets. The weapons were having an effect.

"Sixty," a human officer said as he held a phone to the CIC, "Forty. Twenty. Ten. That's it. Gibbs reporting they splashed all their attackers."

The silence at the cease fire and the fading echos of the gunfire seemed almost as `loud` as the gunfire had been. "Report," Richardson practically whispered but those around him jumped at the noise.

"They came straight in, no evasive action, but they came in on a vector that only about a third of my six-inch could reach. That's either a very good guess, or . . . "

"Second raid incoming," one of Richardson's staff reported, "Aimed at the airfield. Kadena."

"They'll hit the bulk of the Swedes and the Fletchers," Gordon reported, "They'll just be in range of our heavy AA."

"Engage," Richardson ordered.

Why aren't they pulling back? Richardson wondered as the attackers melted away. He saw the Anchorage Demon had taken a position on Gordon's stern and fired methodically. The repeater for the radar let him watch the air raid diminish, then fall to nothing well short of the perimeter.

If we hadn't been packed in wall to wall, Richardson thought of the size and inexorable nature of the raid, Even Abyssal kamikazes aren't that relentless. But they approached on a vector that limited Gordon's antiair, but not Gibbs' or the forces at Kadena. A bit better coordination and many of his support ships would have been drawn away to the other targets. Or they knew about his weak antiair, but not about all his upgrades.

"Sir, they've picked up the wreckage of one or two," his aide reported, "They're Fi-103's, not baka bombs. V-1's sir, likely air-launched."

"We really did invent most modern weapons in World War 2 didn't we," Richardson muttered.
------------------------------

"Kongo," the fast battleship heard as the door ahead of her and behind her spontaneously closed. She knew technically she could do the same inside herself, but she rarely manifested her whole hull, so she was surprised that Captain Gordon could do it so easily.

"I appreciate that you and your sister-ships are known for pranks and such, but aboard Northampton, don't. With what's going on, every ship and sub needs one place to feel completely safe and that's aboard Northampton. You want to tell jokes or the like, that's fine, but the practical jokes are over. And you owe Northampton a formal and public apology."

"I don't know what you mean," Kongo protested.

Gordon sighed. "Kongo, all four of you were there when I practically laid out Iowa. I could have fired at her with my main battery and not hurt her as badly, do you really want to see how - creative - my crew and I can be?"

"You don't have the authority," Kongo said, "We aren't even in the same chain of command."

"I don't need a chain of command to sponsor a contest on the destroyer's discord for pictures of The Belgian Congo, you know, where all the gorillas are," Gordon said, "I just need lots of ice cream." The doors ahead and behind opened. "Maybe Atago takes commissions, she owes me for The Atago Adventures."

Kongo covered her face with her hands. "You wouldn't send those to Goto-chan, would you?" Kongo asked.

"No, I'll send them to Kaga and Fubiki, with the explanation you'd been tormenting the reformed Abyssals," Gordon said, "Then, I'll trickle them out to your sisters. Just imagine what they'll do with a steady stream of those pictures."

"no," Kongo whispered as she dropped her hands.

"NO!" She sprinted down the corridor and off the ship.

"You're scary," Northampton said on the webcall that had recorded it all.

"Only to my enemies, to my friends, I'm cuddly," Captain Gordon said.
------------------------------

The arrival of both the SecNav himself, and the State Minister of Defense would have required every available ship- and sub-girl, but the Crown Princess of Sweden arriving demanded it, and the cloud of fighters that sheparded the VC-25 all the way to touch down. The ship-girls' carrier planes taking over when the speed dropped below what was safe for the jet fighters.

The three admirals stood at the podium under the pavilion. While a minimum of ruffles and flourishes had been requested, if you weren't there as an official guest, you were there as a guard.

"I think they are going to ignore you drafting Watanabe-san, Admiral Goto," Crawford said, "And I hope they're going to concentrate on the christening ceremonies."

"They will, at least in public, but that is why it's the State Minister, and not the Minister himself. A slap in the face to me," Goto replied, "I'm just hoping for your insanity field to just be interesting, rather than how it often works out."

"It's worse, with Colbert ill, they're talking about Beale, me, and young Crawford there all getting another star," Richardson said as the mobile stairway was moved into place, "That will be, interesting."

"We live in interesting enough times," Crawford said. The others agreed as the door opened and politics came to the fore.
------------------------------

Gordon's Chief Engineer was checking on the Abyssals since they were all together for the first time in a long time, most had gone through some of what Gotengo had gone through, but without their own names, they hadn't suffered the collapse and restart. Part of the Chief Engineer's concern was Floyd's silly survey, as if he'd allow somefairy to be misplaced on a rescue. The other part was the Destroyer Water Demon worried him the most, her sister-ship was taking things hard, as most of the destroyers did when human children were involved, but this one reported no problems. In his experience that predicted a boiler explosion because the gauges were stuck, misread or ignored.

A poorly concealed splice into a communication line, led to a transmitter in the Destroyer Water Demon's chief engineer's office, and the Chief Engineer suddenly was glad Floyd and a squad of marines was with him.

"Yo Yo YoYo," he told the Dalek Marine he wanted a hundred engineers here quietly, but NOW.

The speed at which the troops arrived heartened him, and he noted a few Smiths and Jokers with them, as well as a few more specialist marines. He needed it and them. Finding the Destroyer Water Demon's chief engineer wasn't hard, once you started thinking like a saboteur.
------------------------------

Floyd didn't know what had so agitated the Chief Engineer. It'd seen him all the colors of the rainbow, even multiples, except violet, until now. Then it heard the Chief Engineer ask a question that could only result in a fight. But Floyd had dealt with the engineering crew, and now that the Chief Engineer had mentioned it, it saw the signs of sabotage all around.

The Demon's chief engineer laughed as it stood, it was twice as tall as the Chief Engineer and it laughed at the size difference, and admitted the entire engineering crew were saboteurs, proclaiming that since the Destroyer Water Demon had abandoned the Abyss, it would be forced to unwitting service or be destroyed.

Floyd had heard stupidity before, but this was insanity. The Chief Engineer had been in the second wave of a boarding action to save Indianapolis, had led the teams to save Hibiki, worked with and against the crew of Gotengo to save her. Had been working on stabilizing the `Swedish` ships and a thousand other rescues. And this idiot had just threatened the survival of a ship and crew in front of him.

Floyd watched the Chief Engineer turn a uniform shade of teal. Floyd moved a limb to the lightsaber, then realized what surrounded it and prepared a number of coral pseudopods instead. The chief saboteur grinned as the Chief Engineer wound up for a roundhouse, he was too far away to even connect.

The smile was literally driven from the saboteur's face as a long, spud wrench extended from the Chief's sleeve. There was no signal, but every engineer sprang at the saboteurs.
------------------------------

The introductions to the Russian flag-ranked officers, the secretary-ships and the battleships were complete. Nothing's gone wrong, Goto thought, I might just -

The sound of a bugle rang over the loudspeakers, not the portable ones playing various patriotic airs of the countries involved, but the bases' emergency systems.

"You two are going to break my sword, but after 'Attention to Orders', I don't recognize that one," the SecNav said.

"It's new, sir, 'All-Engineers Call'," Crawford offered, "With difficult rescues or critical engineering casualties occurring, it was easier than trying to round up everyone by radio."

The SecNav glanced to the other two VIPs and got slight nods from both. "Well, I'm an old cop, and you answer an All-Hands, because yours might be the next."

"Have all forces fall in, escort formation," Goto ordered. Secretary ships and battleships closed in, cruisers formed a distant screen while the destroyers divided between close escort and formation screen. The formation headed towards the large hanger where the `Swedish Squadron` had been assembled.
 
Anchovy Peaches XXIX - Passing Muster with Cerberus
Anchovy Peaches XXIX - Passing Muster with Cerberus

The SecNav was well aware of his near deific status among ship-girls, but entering the hanger, he was unprepared for what he saw. The Abyssals were there, a pair hugging while one was in tears, the rest looking uncertain. And he'd seen fairies, but the idea that ship-girls' crews would be out in the open save to fly planes was a new experience. There seemed to be a small number assembled in front of the bulk of the Abyssals. Despite being bits of disturbing abstract art, they were as discernibly uncertain as the Abyssals they were the crews of.

Farther was the cordon of `troops` who seemed a mix of suit and sunglasses types who wouldn't have looked out of place as Secret Service, and the odd peppershaker looking ones. That the suit and sunglasses were carrying M14's with a proportional lightsaber as a bayonet, and the peppershakers also had a properly proportioned lightsaber mounted underneath their plungers gave a sense of real menace. The ones they were guarding were nauseating bits of something that shouldn't be able to exist, save the one, blanket-wrapped figure near the edge of the cordon.

It also didn't escape him that the stain on the blanket matched the color of the stain on the end of the long wrench the cthulhoid character was carrying as he remonstrated the crews of the other Abyssal ships and the prisoners under guard. The image of a preacher who truly believed couldn't be shaken. He was glad that as the 'All-Mighty SecNav' he didn't hear the 'desu', 'eh', ja', or other national variations, he heard the words clear and concise.

He had the irrational urge to take his hat off, had he been wearing one. He noted that the three admirals, the general and every ship-girl had all uncovered. They realized as he did the 'All-Mighty SecNav' had wandered into the temple of a very different god, and while worshipers and supplicants had sanctuary, other powers would be tolerated here, but that was all.

"Oh Lord, thou hast made this world the shadow of a dream and taught by time I treat it so - exceptin' always Steam," the figure spoke, his hands describing a reality he wanted to share. Holding the bloodied tool by the clean head to diagram the nature of creation. "From coupler flange to spindle guide, I see the hand of God. Predestination in the stride of yon connectin' rod."

He gestured to the surrounding ship-girls. "The Captain rules upon the bridge," then tapped the ground with the bloody spike, "And I reign here below. He sends his orders down the line, and I'm pleased to have it so."

He stepped up to the collection of crew near the Abyssals. "For though his word be iron law, as ancient rules decree," his wrench rang on the ground to emphasize his words, "I know. What. Truly. Moves. This. Ship. Are my engines, Lord, and me!"

The tiny figure looked at the collection of people, then focused on the still teary-eyed destroyer demon. He was a older parent soothing a frightened child, "I know thy seas are very, very wide, and the ship in truth is small, and those who dwell within her hide, I care for one and all." He looked at the entire assembly, somehow catching each eye before telling them, "Their safety rests upon my skill, their lives are in my hand. I take it for a sacred trust, and they rarely understand."

The figure marched over to the cordon, and even the battleships stepped back from his expression. Those within cringed. Whether he was high priest, or demi-god, his was a god of terrible wrath. He gestured to the ship-girls surrounding them with the bloodied spike rather than the wrench's head. "Behold these purring engine hearts that keep the ship alive. I know them down to their atom's parts, that I and mine may thrive." He pointed to the blanket-wrapped heretic. "And fools they be, who fail to see, why I hold my engines dear."

He thundered the last his rage apparent to all, "For the engine room is a temple raised to the God of the engineer!"

He stepped away from the cringing mass, walking toward the center of the circle of ship-girls. This time he spoke tenderly, as to a beloved friend or lover, "Oh Lord, thou hast made this world the shadow of a dream, and taught by time I treat it so - exceptin' always Steam. From coupler flange to spindle guide, I see thy hand, oh God. Predestination in the stride of yon connectin' rod."

The last, tiny, cynical bit of the SecNav's soul asked when the collection plate would be passed. Then the figure removed his cap and looked around. "She's a good girl, she just needs good engineers."

The Abyssal who'd been crying tears of abject misery was now crying tears of joy as from many of the surrounding ship-girls, in ones and twos and fives, sixty fairies approached. The Chief Engineer picked out one of his cthulhoid shipmates. He shook his head at his fellow engineer. The fairy looked crestfallen, and reached up to remove his hat, likely to beg for the chance.

The Chief Engineer was quicker, he pulled the dixie cup hat from the engineer and settled his own cap atop the engineer to replace it. "It's temporary," he told the other. His tone implied a threat, but the recipient looked relieved. He stepped back and saluted, it was immediately returned.

The Chief placed the cap atop his head, and a normal sailor's cap seemed a crown. He looked at the team, catching each eye and holding it for a moment before continuing on. When finished he nodded. The two Destroyer Water Demons watched with amazement, the girl who'd been sobbing her red eyes wide as saucers as the new crew approached, and saluted.

"Permission to come aboard?" the Chief asked. The poor girl could only nod. They marched in as the other Destroyer Water Demon hugged her sistership tightly.

The flash of light stunned everyone. The troops who'd been under guard were smoldering grease-stains on the floor. The peppershaker in charge of the detail reported they had not escaped under cover of the flash. The two Destroyer Water Demons were also gone. In their place stood an Abyssal Twin Princess, except not. The two figures and their rigging matched the profile, but they were a very dark green and a very pale blue instead of the Abyssal black and white.

They began, "We are."

"Who we were."

"And still desire."

"To complete what we began."

"Although as one."

"Not two," they said, alternating.

"I think that can be arranged," the SecNav said, feeling not very 'All-Mighty' right now.
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The tearful hugs and the cycle of thanks continued. The people who'd made their homes inside me for a month were getting moved back into their homes or to more permanent dorms as the government finally got the recovery into high gear. I heard that Joshamee was getting much the same treatment a few dozen miles away.

And there was still the doctors and nurses of the nearby hospital I'd been dorm, auxiliary powerplant, canteen, occasional bar and sometime father-confessor to for the same period. I was proud of my crew and their exemplary record in doing both what was necessary and in doing what was right. Medals, Presidential Unit Citations, all the formal awards didn't matter as much as what those grateful faces had meant when they realized they were safe and warm, that some work meant food and purpose.

And the big brains who never left their ivory towers wonder why we landed with twenty-eight Abyssals looking for a way out, and we were leaving with ninety-three. The christening would be in a few days, Her Highness having interviewed the various ships to better match names with ships. The Swedish Navy wasn't getting all of them, the Royal Canadian Navy, the US Navy, the US Coast Guard and the Japanese Maritime Self-Defense Force were getting a few.

What they were getting technically vaulted the Swedish Navy fully into the position of the second, largest navy in Europe, but the bulk of them would return with us to Nishinoshima along with a cadre of English-speaking Swedish officers making the desperate lie of The Swedish Squadron a reality. There were jokes that they hoped this gave the Abyss a migraine it would never be free of.

I personally hoped that it would inspire copycats all over the world when the Abyssals realized they had alternatives. I feared it might make them desperate to do anything to tip the war back to their side.
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It was a dark and stormy night, perfect for hiding under the freighter's keel to slip through the torpedo nets that guarded the Thames. The thunder in the sky and the turbulence of the ship hid the Abyssal destroyer from the watchful eyes of machines and ship-girls that guarded the heart and brain of the largest fleet in Europe.

The Abyssal destroyer had charts of the London sewer system and a desperate mission. The war was changing and it required evolutionary tactics. Hence the destroyer was traveling through the sewers. Anyplace in London could be reached from them, if you knew the route and you didn't mind the stench. The wildlife fled from an Abyssal, but they would not sound the alarm, or the unseasonable rains would cover the approach. The Abyss had seen what the Pacific Storm had done, one was created and launched against England and the channel ports. It was rapidly proving that either the Pacific Princesses were uniquely skilled or had gotten lucky, because the Atlantic Storm while bad was neither a record-breaker nor stable it was breaking up even now.

But it could be used as the cover for so many other clandestine operations. Hence the manhole cover slipping aside, then being replaced as the destroyer found a torrent from a roof to wash the noisome filth from itself before it made the final infiltration. Something with less effective sensors would have missed the electronic tripwires and wards that covered the last few dozen meters, but the crew of the destroyer had planned too long and too well for this. They paused in a blindspot and waited. When the rangefinder spotted a lightning flash, the signal was given and as the thunder boomed a blast of ultrasound from the sonar set off every motion detector in the field.

While the system was reporting hundreds of false positives, the destroyer crossed the open ground and hid in another blindspot and waited. Sure enough, human security left the dry comfort to do their job, checking that there was not in fact an army advancing over the open field. They checked a number of the detectors, verifying they were in fact functional. Satisfied their electronic servants were confused, not inoperative, the human returned inside.

The destroyer waited until the rangefinders spotted another lightning flash and send out another pulse of the sonar, and as thunder boomed, raced to another blindspot closer to the door. Now a lookout watched to see when the door opened if the door itself was locked or not. To their delight, they saw it wasn't locked, but had a guard behind it. That actually made everything easier. There would be no delay to gaining entry. Next point was not a blindspot, but it was dry and the human would take time to check several of the sensors randomly, and that would give them time to deploy their camouflage and prepare to make entry.

The plan to gain entry to Buckingham Palace was still a go.
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