An Admiral-class Battlecruiser arrives, and problems emerge
And Howe (Kancolle)
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Arrival
I know pushing to the front of the queue just isn't done, but when the queue is as sparse as this one, as unenthusiastic, and the nation's needs are great, one can be forgiven for putting oneself forward. The three, young girls, who also had been passed over time and again, clung to my hands as I advanced. Normally there was a call, a hope that someone specific would arrive. This one seemed to be 'to whom it may concern', and in that light I took myself and my charges past the spiritless, ha, competitors and plunged forward.
The room was like nothing I'd ever seen. The mixture of flag officers of His Majesty's, His Majesty's Canadian, and His Majesty's Australian Navies mingled with the officers of His Imperial Japanese Majesty's Navy, as well as a few of the landbound services of their nations, but Mahan knew he who rules the seas ruled the land. Britain had proven that to the Continent for over a century.
I looked over the expressions of the officers, and ship-girls assembled, I was glad the Alliance between Nihon and Great Britain had resumed. I released the three destroyers who'd accompanied me, and saluted. "His Majesty's Admiral-class Battlecruiser Howe, reporting for duty. God Protect the Right, and God Save the King."
"Welcome," the Japanese admiral managed and returned my salute. "You are in Yokosuka Naval Base, and King George was replaced by Queen Elizabeth the Second."
"A good name, God Save the Queen!" I said, my pause to let others affirm as well led to an uncomfortable silence.
"Um?" a destroyer who'd been among the flag officers said and saluted, despite her youth she had the expression of a seasoned warrior. A demeanor that I'll admit I lacked. "USS Johnston, DD-557. Who are your escorts, and why are you a boy?"
------------------------------
My transition had not been as seamless as I had hoped. Young Johnston's question had led to a simple answer: HMAS Armidale, RN Curtatone and RN Lupo, small but doughty warriors all; and a question that dragged through the most convoluted scientific and philosophical turns imaginable. It seems I am the only ship-man yet summoned, despite KMS Bismarck being called 'he' by his captain, and Russian vessels who were 'he' in their native language.
Some of the rot being spewed by inconsequential people on the subject was distinctly disturbing. As if I should and must be offended that the custom of all returned ships being 'she', and if I was not offended I must permit them to be offended on my behalf. Ignoring I have eight 15-inch naval rifles, what offends me dies. If someone has a preference I respect and use it, but it seems I cannot be allowed to respect the status quo ante. It seems they cannot comprehend that I do not wish to upset the custom, nor do I take umbrage at it, nor that I appreciate its simplicity. I would more strenuously object if they called me late for tea.
The sound of birds is an excellent descriptor of that bedlam house.
I serve at Her Majesty's pleasure and could be reduced to razor blades tomorrow, if that would better serve the Empire. That I serve her allies in a war against a genocidal enemy alongside people who were our staunch allies last time I was aware is all I require. It is as simple as that. In my heart of hearts I wonder if the world would be better or worse if those people who piously yet falsely claim the honored name of warrior could be dropped en masse on our enemy. I have kept such speculation private and shared it with no one, for the good of the Navy.
I am well-aware of the societal and technological changes between 1816 and 1916, only a fool would assume that a similar change would not have occurred during a similar time between when I was laid down, and when I arrived here. I sought to learn so as to uphold my own honor, the Honor of HER Majesty's Navy, God Save the Queen, and the Honor of the Empire. A gentleman should be expected to do no less.
Enough rambling at the current insanity. Considering I know about 'Tulip Mania' of 1630, I cannot in good conscience fault the details of the insanity of any specific time period, but shall decry such insanity in general.
All the checks of my physical plant have been excellent. Gunnery, speed and maneuverability. It appears that I lack some of the upgrades given HMS Hood, but am of the improved 1917 design that would have surpassed Hood in some ways. Postwar upgrades she received, especially anti-aircraft weapons, will be investigated.
Additionally, since the interface between ship and objects is hazy, I have supplied Holland & Holland with several pounds of my steel for a drilling of special design. I look forward to the delivery, and while Remington makes excellent typewriters, a gentleman's fowling piece should be a Holland & Holland.
The end of Miss Ashigara's class ended the video feed from several of the destroyers. I am too large to fit into the desks, and I am a distraction, more on that later, but I need the information and getting 'tech savvy' is likewise a necessary skill. The payment is in ice cream, a currency that is easier to hand than many others. How do I generate ice cream when I never had an ice-cream machine like my USN counterparts? I can purchase milk, and I have some excellent engineers and cooks, as well as a few defaulters with time on their hands. Although I have discovered that sherbets are actually more popular and easier to make. Although why Canadian Bacon is my most popular flavor among the IJN exceeds even my understanding, but the market demands, and I shall supply.
The happy crowd of destroyers are paid their wage and I have copies of their notes transferred to my phone and I pass out the sherbet. I let them change into their outside shoes, mine are stored aboard after Kongo introduced natto into mine when I left them in the provided cubby. Not her first prank, nor the last. We then spend quite some time in the destroyers' common room helping each other with our homework and generally discussing how the lesson applies to our lives as warships.
The last is a failure of Miss Ashigara, knowing why you need to know something makes it more valuable. I either do know, or we work out the why in our discussions. I look forward to being fully trained up and sortieing with the other brave souls around me.
I wish everything else were wine and roses, or cordite and glory, but it is not. I seem to have offended nearly every cruiser, battleship and carrier on the base. I have enquired to the destroyers, the only ship girls who will still speak to me, and they have not illuminated the insult I have delivered. I cannot mark this off as Nipponese xenophobia, although that may play some part in it, because several of the Yanks reacted similarly.
No, I did not refer to South Carolina as a Yank, but Massachusetts was a different matter.
I am not unaware of social media, so my offense may have propagated around the world before I could offer my contrition.
But I cannot discover what I have done. How can one offer apologies, or correct one's behavior when no one will even speak to me? I find myself in the odd situation that one does not smack a face, one merely does not invite it to dinner. No one, save the destroyers, is inviting me to dinner. I know how modern sensibilities react to 'May-December' friendships, so we socialize under the watchful eyes of others. I want no questions on the platonic or mentoring nature of our interactions, and yes sometimes they are the mentors: they are the veterans I am not. But when I am in a large group, such as a briefing, it has been said you are only truly alone, when you are alone in a large crowd. I can attest to the veracity of that pronouncement.
I have carefully observed, then adjusted my language. I have been a good sport about the numerous pranks played on me by numerous ship-girls in the past weeks. I immediately realized the minefield that having me bunk amid the destroyers was, the room assignment was I suspect the first of Kongo's pranks. While I can remember entire families or groups of soldiers sleeping together in one bed, I can also see the indelicacy that the current situation would imply. So I relocated to a storeroom in the basement. There was a bed and a washroom, adequate for my needs, and that seemed to have sidestepped the problem.
So I cannot for the life of me understand why the near universal silent treatment, and why only the destroyers are immune or perhaps exempt.
------------------------------
Armidale, Lupo and Curtatone approached the sub pens. They were there to deliver an ultimatum, and negotiate a compromise. They didn't knock, but marched straight in. I-8 and Harder were there, and neither looked happy about a bunch of torpedo boats and subchasers invading their space unannounced.
A quick glance confirmed what the trio had suspected, it was the subs who were stealing Howe's sheets and blankets, and sleeping wrapped up in them. The barely made beds all had something of Howe's on them.
"You want something?" Harder asked, trying to mask her fear with belligerence.
"We want you to stop stealing his only bedding," Armidale said, "This is nonnegotiable."
"You think you can stop us?" Harder asked.
"Nagato can," Lupo said and grinned, "I hope you have many toothbrush to clean latrines."
Harder and I-8 both blanched. It was rumored that she would then watch a ship-girl brush her teeth with said brush. Nothing had been proven, but Nagato never denied it.
"Now, we said 'only' bedding. You take what he slept in, and replace it with new, clean sheets, pillows and blankets, we have no problem. Heck swap out his mattress for all we care. But the word is swap, and remember if it's too uncomfortable, he won't sleep in it. All our sheets and blankets are about the same size. If you're such skilled sneaks, you should be able to get your booty, and replace it without being caught," Curtatone said, and grinned.
"If, this was the case," I-8 said, "It would seem a reasonable request."
"What are you going to do if we don't agree?" Harder said.
"We'll replace the bedding every morning right after he wakes up and launder it before you can touch it," Armidale said, "Then it'll go on our beds." She grinned as Harder's teeth ground.
Lupo patted I-8's head. "Just imagine him all wrapped up and snuggling on one of your blankets."
The trio were glad that the subs were diesel-electric, or they would have blown a boiler or two.
------------------------------
I clean the very amusing, Kongo-supplied material off the handle of my umbrella and proceed through the rain to the Admiral's office. The drilling has arrived and while properly sighting it in at the range was first on my list of things to do, a call from the Admiral's office trumps that. I do hope this isn't like the time Hiei spoofed a call from Ooyodo, and I sat alone in the unoccupied office all night waiting for the Admiral to return.
The Admiral seemed confused that I'd actually follow an order that seemed authentic. If it wasn't in combat and seemed to be bona fide, why wouldn't I follow it? Although today, I will use the 15 minute rule he informed me of, I need to add H&H's drilling to my arsenal.
I needn't have worried. The squadron of Kriegsmarine ships waits in the office, a very nervous squadron. "HMS Howe, reporting as ordered." I don't salute while I come to attention, as the Admiral is uncovered, and I am not sure where the KMS group is in the hierarchy. I nod to Bismarck and Tirpitz.
"Ah, Howe, I'll need you to show our guests to the Battleship, Cruiser and Destroyer dorms, the firing ranges and of course the mess hall and assembly buildings." The Admiral has several packets with the name of each ship clearly labeled in English, Japanese, and German. "You have that monster of a 'brolly' you ordered?"
"Of course, sir," I say, "Enough to keep the rain off an entire task force." I glance at the collection. "Although I might pull a spare or two from stores. Otherwise we'd have to be a very friendly task force."
Goto nods and we know we're dismissed. Bismarck needs a bit of a push from Tirpitz. I've been told my resemblance to Hood is quite uncanny. Were that true, I'd have sympathy for Good Old Hood, as I am definitely not round in the feminine way. But the similarity is enough to disturb her killer. It's not exactly water under the bridge, but we are on the same side in this war, and if there is retribution to take, it's Hood's to take not mine.
We form up, Bismarck and Z-1 and Z-2 under one brolly, Tirpitz and Scharnhorst under another, myself, Z-3 and Prinz Eugen under a third. Initially the three battleships are chatty, but they eventually fall silent, it takes a little while longer, but Prinz Eugen gets the same neutral, silent expression. While it confirms that whatever I did is known across the ship-girl community, I had hoped German good manners or pugnaciousness wouldn't have faded so soon.
The destroyers continue talking, and seem slightly disturbed by their capital ships' silence or monosyllabic answers. I wish I could say I was. I'd grown used to the flat stares, the lack of eye contact and of course the silence.
I did have a job to do. I took the most direct course, showing first the firing ranges, the destroyers seemed enthusiastic about my zeroing in the drilling, especially interested that the drilling or triple, was a more German pattern. The mess hall, and there was no enthusiasm for a quick bite to eat or even a coffee. The medical wing, the assembly hall where briefings were held, the post office, and finally to the dorms. Before I dropped them off I pointed out the Cruiser and Destroyer Dorms. Some chatter could be overheard as we walked between the two, before the closing door blocked it. The battleships retired to their room in the Battleship Dorm as the remainder of us withdrew, they didn't respond to my question about additional needs. I sensed I was approaching the limit of their tolerance. Prinz Eugen was left in Aoba's and Kuma's capable hands as she'd be rooming with them. They accepted the packet without comment. Some chatter occurred between the trio before the closing door blocked it. The destroyers were shown their rooms, but the HMAS Armidale, RN Curtatone and RN Lupo, as well as Dev Div 6 and the Duckies were all waiting to see the drilling in action. The three Kriegsmarine ships seemed vastly more interested in watching that action than sitting in the dorms. The rain not dampening, ha, their enthusiasm.
So it was a large crowd of destroyers in the rain watching me sight in the rifle. Many sheltered under my 'monster brollies' but a few other more colorful ones dotted the range. A drilling is a three-barrel weapon. Usually a side-by-side shotgun and a rifle above or below. This one was above. It was chambered for the miniaturized 14-inch/356mm Sanshiki shell and powder. I know that San Shiki means Type 3, but Sanshiki sounds more martial. The entire point of a fowling piece is to deal with flying targets. The rifle uses the anti-air shell, the shotgun barrels are 10-gauge. I was advised that 12-gauge was more common, but I was determined to get the largest bore reasonable. I considered getting a punt gun, but those are always museum pieces and not suited for combat.
Why the weapon? Because my `flak` is little better than having my marines assemble on deck to throw potatoes at the passing planes, and less so if they switched to two-man slingshots loaded with kimchi pots. The question is, does a shotgun made partially from my steel allow me to have the same effect as the small gun turrets the destroyers use?
The experiment begins as I fire a round from a standing position and adjust the front and rear sights. Slowly making sure the rifle fires where I'm aiming it. Some might suggest using a bench rest, but while that would zero the rifle, I'm going to fire the rifle, it needs to fit me and where I'll put the rounds. A telescopic sight? Out on the water, near the firing of 15-inch guns? H&H had to verify the adjustable, iron sights wouldn't be shifted by those conditions.
Why isn't a rep from H&H here helping? Because this is a warzone, and there are clearances. And no one outside the military is to know how crazy many ship-girls are. Myself included.
The rifle is sighted in with rounds that aren't actual miniaturized battleship shells. Now comes what all the destroyers have been waiting for. The shell and the powder are loaded. Take aim.
The target burns fiercely despite the rain. I quickly swab the barrel and verify there are no embers. Now the real moment of truth, a standard shot shell at another target. Just aim and squeeze the trigger.
"Where on the target did you hit?" Armidale asks as the fragments of the target, the post it was mounted on, and a bit of the backing wall rain down on the outer reaches of the range.
It seems my plan works, the weapon does up-range to act as a battleship's own armament. I can imagine the report I'm going to have to write and submit.
"I'm not sure, I think I'll need to use the battleship targets to test," I explain, "I am not complaining though."
"Yeah," Armidale says.
"Have you considered fletchette?" Z-1 asks.
"Fletchette?" I ask and realize that there's something else I don't know and will have to research.
------------------------------
Bismarck looked to Prinz Eugen, then to Nagara who'd come to welcome the German squadron. The Battleship dorm rooms more than large enough for the Germans, Nagara, Ise and Mutsu. The latter two grinning at the disgruntled KMS battleships.
"You couldn't keep talking to him either?" Mutsu said, her teasing tone clear.
Tirpitz only frowned, while Bismarck replied, "Does he realize how beautiful he is?"
"He's very handsome," Nagara added.
"He's beyond handsome," Prinz Eugen said, "He's beautiful, he'd challenge Yamato or Iowa for the title. Even Hood isn't that beautiful."
"So you failed just like the rest of us," Ise said, "Why are the destroyers immune?"
"He's the sherbet battlecruiser," Nagara said, "That trumps whatever he looks like. He's more like a father to them."
"I can almost imagine the shovel speech from a shoal of destroyers," Tirpitz said.
The others nodded.
"Hasn't he noticed?" Tirpitz asked, "And, well, taken advantage. He'd have the same effect on human officers. I saw how the admiral's staff reacted."
"He is too polite and professional," Mutsu said, "He keeps a slight distance and usually interacts to not cause the howling cat fight that would result if he'd actually pick someone."
"What do we tell Z-1, Z-2 and Z-3?" Bismarck asked, "They noticed how quiet we got all of a sudden."
"Do you really want to explain that to a destroyer?" Mutsu asked, her humor gone, "It would shine a completely different light on how much time he spends with them. Every ship-girl has a quirk, imagine it if everyone thought that was his."
The capital ships shuddered at the vision.
The room was like nothing I'd ever seen. The mixture of flag officers of His Majesty's, His Majesty's Canadian, and His Majesty's Australian Navies mingled with the officers of His Imperial Japanese Majesty's Navy, as well as a few of the landbound services of their nations, but Mahan knew he who rules the seas ruled the land. Britain had proven that to the Continent for over a century.
I looked over the expressions of the officers, and ship-girls assembled, I was glad the Alliance between Nihon and Great Britain had resumed. I released the three destroyers who'd accompanied me, and saluted. "His Majesty's Admiral-class Battlecruiser Howe, reporting for duty. God Protect the Right, and God Save the King."
"Welcome," the Japanese admiral managed and returned my salute. "You are in Yokosuka Naval Base, and King George was replaced by Queen Elizabeth the Second."
"A good name, God Save the Queen!" I said, my pause to let others affirm as well led to an uncomfortable silence.
"Um?" a destroyer who'd been among the flag officers said and saluted, despite her youth she had the expression of a seasoned warrior. A demeanor that I'll admit I lacked. "USS Johnston, DD-557. Who are your escorts, and why are you a boy?"
------------------------------
My transition had not been as seamless as I had hoped. Young Johnston's question had led to a simple answer: HMAS Armidale, RN Curtatone and RN Lupo, small but doughty warriors all; and a question that dragged through the most convoluted scientific and philosophical turns imaginable. It seems I am the only ship-man yet summoned, despite KMS Bismarck being called 'he' by his captain, and Russian vessels who were 'he' in their native language.
Some of the rot being spewed by inconsequential people on the subject was distinctly disturbing. As if I should and must be offended that the custom of all returned ships being 'she', and if I was not offended I must permit them to be offended on my behalf. Ignoring I have eight 15-inch naval rifles, what offends me dies. If someone has a preference I respect and use it, but it seems I cannot be allowed to respect the status quo ante. It seems they cannot comprehend that I do not wish to upset the custom, nor do I take umbrage at it, nor that I appreciate its simplicity. I would more strenuously object if they called me late for tea.
The sound of birds is an excellent descriptor of that bedlam house.
I serve at Her Majesty's pleasure and could be reduced to razor blades tomorrow, if that would better serve the Empire. That I serve her allies in a war against a genocidal enemy alongside people who were our staunch allies last time I was aware is all I require. It is as simple as that. In my heart of hearts I wonder if the world would be better or worse if those people who piously yet falsely claim the honored name of warrior could be dropped en masse on our enemy. I have kept such speculation private and shared it with no one, for the good of the Navy.
I am well-aware of the societal and technological changes between 1816 and 1916, only a fool would assume that a similar change would not have occurred during a similar time between when I was laid down, and when I arrived here. I sought to learn so as to uphold my own honor, the Honor of HER Majesty's Navy, God Save the Queen, and the Honor of the Empire. A gentleman should be expected to do no less.
Enough rambling at the current insanity. Considering I know about 'Tulip Mania' of 1630, I cannot in good conscience fault the details of the insanity of any specific time period, but shall decry such insanity in general.
All the checks of my physical plant have been excellent. Gunnery, speed and maneuverability. It appears that I lack some of the upgrades given HMS Hood, but am of the improved 1917 design that would have surpassed Hood in some ways. Postwar upgrades she received, especially anti-aircraft weapons, will be investigated.
Additionally, since the interface between ship and objects is hazy, I have supplied Holland & Holland with several pounds of my steel for a drilling of special design. I look forward to the delivery, and while Remington makes excellent typewriters, a gentleman's fowling piece should be a Holland & Holland.
The end of Miss Ashigara's class ended the video feed from several of the destroyers. I am too large to fit into the desks, and I am a distraction, more on that later, but I need the information and getting 'tech savvy' is likewise a necessary skill. The payment is in ice cream, a currency that is easier to hand than many others. How do I generate ice cream when I never had an ice-cream machine like my USN counterparts? I can purchase milk, and I have some excellent engineers and cooks, as well as a few defaulters with time on their hands. Although I have discovered that sherbets are actually more popular and easier to make. Although why Canadian Bacon is my most popular flavor among the IJN exceeds even my understanding, but the market demands, and I shall supply.
The happy crowd of destroyers are paid their wage and I have copies of their notes transferred to my phone and I pass out the sherbet. I let them change into their outside shoes, mine are stored aboard after Kongo introduced natto into mine when I left them in the provided cubby. Not her first prank, nor the last. We then spend quite some time in the destroyers' common room helping each other with our homework and generally discussing how the lesson applies to our lives as warships.
The last is a failure of Miss Ashigara, knowing why you need to know something makes it more valuable. I either do know, or we work out the why in our discussions. I look forward to being fully trained up and sortieing with the other brave souls around me.
I wish everything else were wine and roses, or cordite and glory, but it is not. I seem to have offended nearly every cruiser, battleship and carrier on the base. I have enquired to the destroyers, the only ship girls who will still speak to me, and they have not illuminated the insult I have delivered. I cannot mark this off as Nipponese xenophobia, although that may play some part in it, because several of the Yanks reacted similarly.
No, I did not refer to South Carolina as a Yank, but Massachusetts was a different matter.
I am not unaware of social media, so my offense may have propagated around the world before I could offer my contrition.
But I cannot discover what I have done. How can one offer apologies, or correct one's behavior when no one will even speak to me? I find myself in the odd situation that one does not smack a face, one merely does not invite it to dinner. No one, save the destroyers, is inviting me to dinner. I know how modern sensibilities react to 'May-December' friendships, so we socialize under the watchful eyes of others. I want no questions on the platonic or mentoring nature of our interactions, and yes sometimes they are the mentors: they are the veterans I am not. But when I am in a large group, such as a briefing, it has been said you are only truly alone, when you are alone in a large crowd. I can attest to the veracity of that pronouncement.
I have carefully observed, then adjusted my language. I have been a good sport about the numerous pranks played on me by numerous ship-girls in the past weeks. I immediately realized the minefield that having me bunk amid the destroyers was, the room assignment was I suspect the first of Kongo's pranks. While I can remember entire families or groups of soldiers sleeping together in one bed, I can also see the indelicacy that the current situation would imply. So I relocated to a storeroom in the basement. There was a bed and a washroom, adequate for my needs, and that seemed to have sidestepped the problem.
So I cannot for the life of me understand why the near universal silent treatment, and why only the destroyers are immune or perhaps exempt.
------------------------------
Armidale, Lupo and Curtatone approached the sub pens. They were there to deliver an ultimatum, and negotiate a compromise. They didn't knock, but marched straight in. I-8 and Harder were there, and neither looked happy about a bunch of torpedo boats and subchasers invading their space unannounced.
A quick glance confirmed what the trio had suspected, it was the subs who were stealing Howe's sheets and blankets, and sleeping wrapped up in them. The barely made beds all had something of Howe's on them.
"You want something?" Harder asked, trying to mask her fear with belligerence.
"We want you to stop stealing his only bedding," Armidale said, "This is nonnegotiable."
"You think you can stop us?" Harder asked.
"Nagato can," Lupo said and grinned, "I hope you have many toothbrush to clean latrines."
Harder and I-8 both blanched. It was rumored that she would then watch a ship-girl brush her teeth with said brush. Nothing had been proven, but Nagato never denied it.
"Now, we said 'only' bedding. You take what he slept in, and replace it with new, clean sheets, pillows and blankets, we have no problem. Heck swap out his mattress for all we care. But the word is swap, and remember if it's too uncomfortable, he won't sleep in it. All our sheets and blankets are about the same size. If you're such skilled sneaks, you should be able to get your booty, and replace it without being caught," Curtatone said, and grinned.
"If, this was the case," I-8 said, "It would seem a reasonable request."
"What are you going to do if we don't agree?" Harder said.
"We'll replace the bedding every morning right after he wakes up and launder it before you can touch it," Armidale said, "Then it'll go on our beds." She grinned as Harder's teeth ground.
Lupo patted I-8's head. "Just imagine him all wrapped up and snuggling on one of your blankets."
The trio were glad that the subs were diesel-electric, or they would have blown a boiler or two.
------------------------------
I clean the very amusing, Kongo-supplied material off the handle of my umbrella and proceed through the rain to the Admiral's office. The drilling has arrived and while properly sighting it in at the range was first on my list of things to do, a call from the Admiral's office trumps that. I do hope this isn't like the time Hiei spoofed a call from Ooyodo, and I sat alone in the unoccupied office all night waiting for the Admiral to return.
The Admiral seemed confused that I'd actually follow an order that seemed authentic. If it wasn't in combat and seemed to be bona fide, why wouldn't I follow it? Although today, I will use the 15 minute rule he informed me of, I need to add H&H's drilling to my arsenal.
I needn't have worried. The squadron of Kriegsmarine ships waits in the office, a very nervous squadron. "HMS Howe, reporting as ordered." I don't salute while I come to attention, as the Admiral is uncovered, and I am not sure where the KMS group is in the hierarchy. I nod to Bismarck and Tirpitz.
"Ah, Howe, I'll need you to show our guests to the Battleship, Cruiser and Destroyer dorms, the firing ranges and of course the mess hall and assembly buildings." The Admiral has several packets with the name of each ship clearly labeled in English, Japanese, and German. "You have that monster of a 'brolly' you ordered?"
"Of course, sir," I say, "Enough to keep the rain off an entire task force." I glance at the collection. "Although I might pull a spare or two from stores. Otherwise we'd have to be a very friendly task force."
Goto nods and we know we're dismissed. Bismarck needs a bit of a push from Tirpitz. I've been told my resemblance to Hood is quite uncanny. Were that true, I'd have sympathy for Good Old Hood, as I am definitely not round in the feminine way. But the similarity is enough to disturb her killer. It's not exactly water under the bridge, but we are on the same side in this war, and if there is retribution to take, it's Hood's to take not mine.
We form up, Bismarck and Z-1 and Z-2 under one brolly, Tirpitz and Scharnhorst under another, myself, Z-3 and Prinz Eugen under a third. Initially the three battleships are chatty, but they eventually fall silent, it takes a little while longer, but Prinz Eugen gets the same neutral, silent expression. While it confirms that whatever I did is known across the ship-girl community, I had hoped German good manners or pugnaciousness wouldn't have faded so soon.
The destroyers continue talking, and seem slightly disturbed by their capital ships' silence or monosyllabic answers. I wish I could say I was. I'd grown used to the flat stares, the lack of eye contact and of course the silence.
I did have a job to do. I took the most direct course, showing first the firing ranges, the destroyers seemed enthusiastic about my zeroing in the drilling, especially interested that the drilling or triple, was a more German pattern. The mess hall, and there was no enthusiasm for a quick bite to eat or even a coffee. The medical wing, the assembly hall where briefings were held, the post office, and finally to the dorms. Before I dropped them off I pointed out the Cruiser and Destroyer Dorms. Some chatter could be overheard as we walked between the two, before the closing door blocked it. The battleships retired to their room in the Battleship Dorm as the remainder of us withdrew, they didn't respond to my question about additional needs. I sensed I was approaching the limit of their tolerance. Prinz Eugen was left in Aoba's and Kuma's capable hands as she'd be rooming with them. They accepted the packet without comment. Some chatter occurred between the trio before the closing door blocked it. The destroyers were shown their rooms, but the HMAS Armidale, RN Curtatone and RN Lupo, as well as Dev Div 6 and the Duckies were all waiting to see the drilling in action. The three Kriegsmarine ships seemed vastly more interested in watching that action than sitting in the dorms. The rain not dampening, ha, their enthusiasm.
So it was a large crowd of destroyers in the rain watching me sight in the rifle. Many sheltered under my 'monster brollies' but a few other more colorful ones dotted the range. A drilling is a three-barrel weapon. Usually a side-by-side shotgun and a rifle above or below. This one was above. It was chambered for the miniaturized 14-inch/356mm Sanshiki shell and powder. I know that San Shiki means Type 3, but Sanshiki sounds more martial. The entire point of a fowling piece is to deal with flying targets. The rifle uses the anti-air shell, the shotgun barrels are 10-gauge. I was advised that 12-gauge was more common, but I was determined to get the largest bore reasonable. I considered getting a punt gun, but those are always museum pieces and not suited for combat.
Why the weapon? Because my `flak` is little better than having my marines assemble on deck to throw potatoes at the passing planes, and less so if they switched to two-man slingshots loaded with kimchi pots. The question is, does a shotgun made partially from my steel allow me to have the same effect as the small gun turrets the destroyers use?
The experiment begins as I fire a round from a standing position and adjust the front and rear sights. Slowly making sure the rifle fires where I'm aiming it. Some might suggest using a bench rest, but while that would zero the rifle, I'm going to fire the rifle, it needs to fit me and where I'll put the rounds. A telescopic sight? Out on the water, near the firing of 15-inch guns? H&H had to verify the adjustable, iron sights wouldn't be shifted by those conditions.
Why isn't a rep from H&H here helping? Because this is a warzone, and there are clearances. And no one outside the military is to know how crazy many ship-girls are. Myself included.
The rifle is sighted in with rounds that aren't actual miniaturized battleship shells. Now comes what all the destroyers have been waiting for. The shell and the powder are loaded. Take aim.
The target burns fiercely despite the rain. I quickly swab the barrel and verify there are no embers. Now the real moment of truth, a standard shot shell at another target. Just aim and squeeze the trigger.
"Where on the target did you hit?" Armidale asks as the fragments of the target, the post it was mounted on, and a bit of the backing wall rain down on the outer reaches of the range.
It seems my plan works, the weapon does up-range to act as a battleship's own armament. I can imagine the report I'm going to have to write and submit.
"I'm not sure, I think I'll need to use the battleship targets to test," I explain, "I am not complaining though."
"Yeah," Armidale says.
"Have you considered fletchette?" Z-1 asks.
"Fletchette?" I ask and realize that there's something else I don't know and will have to research.
------------------------------
Bismarck looked to Prinz Eugen, then to Nagara who'd come to welcome the German squadron. The Battleship dorm rooms more than large enough for the Germans, Nagara, Ise and Mutsu. The latter two grinning at the disgruntled KMS battleships.
"You couldn't keep talking to him either?" Mutsu said, her teasing tone clear.
Tirpitz only frowned, while Bismarck replied, "Does he realize how beautiful he is?"
"He's very handsome," Nagara added.
"He's beyond handsome," Prinz Eugen said, "He's beautiful, he'd challenge Yamato or Iowa for the title. Even Hood isn't that beautiful."
"So you failed just like the rest of us," Ise said, "Why are the destroyers immune?"
"He's the sherbet battlecruiser," Nagara said, "That trumps whatever he looks like. He's more like a father to them."
"I can almost imagine the shovel speech from a shoal of destroyers," Tirpitz said.
The others nodded.
"Hasn't he noticed?" Tirpitz asked, "And, well, taken advantage. He'd have the same effect on human officers. I saw how the admiral's staff reacted."
"He is too polite and professional," Mutsu said, "He keeps a slight distance and usually interacts to not cause the howling cat fight that would result if he'd actually pick someone."
"What do we tell Z-1, Z-2 and Z-3?" Bismarck asked, "They noticed how quiet we got all of a sudden."
"Do you really want to explain that to a destroyer?" Mutsu asked, her humor gone, "It would shine a completely different light on how much time he spends with them. Every ship-girl has a quirk, imagine it if everyone thought that was his."
The capital ships shuddered at the vision.
Potato
Randomly exploding
- Location
- Singapore
So what you're saying is, Howe is your typical anime protagonist, but also an English gentleman? Brilliant.
Except he's not the ordinary looking nice guy, he's litterally 'so beautiful it's a curse'. The only reason nobody hates him for it is he doesn't take advantage of it.
Yes, they stopped the build to analyze the lessons from Jutland and at that point they diverged and only Hood went forward.
The Blooded Battlecruiser
The morning meeting is joyous news. The arrival of the German squadron and the training exercises we've all participated in were to an important end: the attack on the Truk Princess. Like the WW2 anchorage, as other positions were reduced, the Abyssals who fled the onslaught assembled there. The Fleet there was several times too strong for only the Yokosuka base to engage, and the USN base in Japan was mostly staffed with Standards, good fighters, we were entrusting Japan's defense to them while we struck, but slow, and we needed a fast fleet.
So the IJN, USN, RN (RAN, RNZN, RCN) and the KMS were assembling two fast fleets to converge. With the South Americans, French and Italians temporarily holding the Atlantic, the USN/RN group was sailing out of Australia, and we were sailing out of Japan.
Finally I would be able to prove myself in the heat of battle, and erase or at least occlude the stain that still hovered over me.
The details of the fight to be unfortunately had the mark of the IJN's love of complexity. While such deceptions in sword fighting or small unit actions gave an advantage to the master swordsman, naval battles requiring your allies, and your enemy to do exactly what you are expecting are doomed to failure.
Fortunately, the USN and the RN had put in some buffer. Both formations would meet, a few cruisers would be exchanged to keep closer coordination with the formations when they separated into a combined battleline and a combined carrier task force. Hopefully the best of the doctrines of each would will out. I was assigned to the fast raiding squadron as part of the battleline. Better than 30 knots or don't apply. The Kongos were not pleased to be back with the carriers, along with the Alaskas, as heavy escorts. They are luckier than the Ise/Fuso-classes and the Standards, they were left behind completely. This was what the Kongos were built for, but this wasn't the winnowing of the Kantaikesen vs. Plan Orange, this was to pluck out the eyes and ears and appear at as many places on their perimeter at once as possible. So the fastest of fast battleships, and a few torpedo-heavy cruisers.
The subs, both steel-hull and sub girls, had swept into the area. Some bright spark had realized that the sub-girls could board the special forces enclosure, whatever they call it, and get a rest and a breath of air, recharge their batteries off a nuclear sub's power plant, and greatly increase their range and effectiveness. Modern subs' towed arrays also being one of the few things that could reliably detect Abyssals, they heard them. Sub-girls gave the steel-hulls eyes around them.
I'd not actually met too many subs, they seemed very shy and retiring, but considering whatever I had done to offend every cruiser and capital ship I ever met, I suppose my reputation extended to them as well.
Ooi and Kitakami are with me, spotter planes are out, and we are allowed to openly transmit, although `Fuso` and `Oklahoma` aren't pleased with the deception. I'm Louisiana, so the pair of torpedo cruisers have no room to complain. Named after a French King's mother no doubt.
Bismarck, Prinz Eugen and Mogami draw first blood, as a swarm of destroyers race out to get `Nevada`, `Tennessee` and `Hyuga`. The battle is a confused mess of warcries, gunfire and warnings, but the trio handle it well, turning it into a running fight, drawing the enemy away from Truk and destroying them.
My trio have drawn a better card. A cruiser squadron with a fast battleship in support. Why better? Torpedo soup. Our two cruisers dump half of their torpedoes into the path of the oncoming ships, while I get ready to pepper them with long-range fire.
When the battleship takes three hits, I open up on the force. A straddle with the first salvo, Royal Navy training! The cruisers hold gun fire as they separate to catch the remaining force in an anvil attack. My spotters say the enemy is still coming on, centered on the wounded but aggressive battleship. I've been picking off cruisers to foster that behavior. Two hits and the cruiser force which started at eight before the torpedoes is down to four. I've not allowed the wounded to retire.
The force finally sights more than my spotters or my gunflashes, and they are on the hunt. But Ooi and Kitakami have timed it perfectly. The entire force takes torpedo hits, and my mains and secondaries finish off the cripples.
Unfortunately for the Iowas and Tirpitz, the Abyssals learn their lesson and no further patrols are seen. Night falls and the raiders are withdrawn to the anti-aircraft bubble of the carriers and the combined battleline. I grab a quick bite then head out to sweeten the rations of our radar pickets with some sherbet or ice cream. Not precisely a bribe, but an encouragement.
By the time I arrive back the various flotillas have formed and again I am left alone. I'm glad whatever I've done hasn't affected the fighting spirit, or the willingness to work with me. But it is hard, and I know why Ooi and Kitakami have been assigned to me, but a gentleman doesn't pick at such things as it's consensual and like the Sacred Band of Thebes, it didn't weaken their fighting power. I take up station near enough that I can guard, but not close enough to interfere. The RN's battlestations doctrine lets me 'wake up' faster than most.
------------------------------
The Abyss hits back an hour before dawn. While further north or south a long twilight adds hours to the day, where we are twilight is a short thing, so it's quite dark when the destroyers sound the 'many planes' warning. Tenryuu and Tatsuta had motored over with several destroyers to check torpedo loadouts with Ooi and Kitakami. They are forced to scramble for position as the planes come in at medium altitude. They had come in low until they were spotted then popped up to look for targets, and while the ships are dark, the touch of an airborne radar is felt by all with detectors.
This is going to be chaos, which has its own advantages and disadvantages. For the enemy, it will be an uncoordinated, general attack. For us, it will be an attack from every direction with only a few planes from the RN CVs as a CAP. We'll have to keep our eyes on a swivel, and not run into or shoot each other.
The drilling was loaded last night. The Japanese capital ships, and I fire the Sanshikis. It also gives us our first view of the enemy. They are all land-based, two-engined torpedo bombers, obscene versions of the He-111, Beaufort, G4M Betty and Martin Marauder, but additional elements of the raid are higher up and climbing. Dive or level bombers time will tell.
I have a bandolier of shot shells and a pouch with a few Sanshiki rounds, I only lack a proper deerstalker to look the part of a country gentleman. The four cruisers near me have little to add in the way of AA, nor do I, which is worrying. I have to hope the boffins at H&H have done what tests showed they did, but tests aren't combat. Tests rarely kill.
The torpedo groups fall to the Fletchers, then the Atlantas, before they reach the hideous barrage of the Iowas, North Carolinas and South Dakotas. I watch the other sectors, and sure enough, a group who'd gotten lost has seen that barrage and come around from behind, exactly as I feared. The shotgun's blast clears eight of the twelve from the sky, and the others fire at them as they break into evasive maneuvers. I leave it to them, reload and pat my now trusty fieldpiece, and look for others lost or directed to envelop. I also look skyward, and here they come.
"Divebombers," I warn as I take aim and fire, the Sanshiki first, then as they close in, the shot shells. The unengaged battleships' AAA opens up at the bombers as all of us take evasive action. Some remained at altitude, so high-level bombs are also coming down.
Two flechette shells go in, no time to properly load the rifle, and I aim at a couple of bombs that seem to be guiding towards Illustrious and Kaga a little too well for random chance. The explosions several thousand feet above them is impressive. It illuminates the others. Tarzons, not of Edgar Rice Burroughs, an American mating of the Fritz-X and the Tallboy technologies: an armor penetrator with radio guidance.
"Got them!" Armidale announces and in radio frequencies makes a sound like drunken tomcats singing opera. The lethal bombs begin guiding off target. Not even making near misses as they explode within the sea.
The dive bombers mistakenly concentrate on the brightly illuminated battleships, forgetting they are brightly illuminated by the massive flak batteries inherent with them. My trick inspired several of the others as some the ships with lesser AA, but with VT fuses fire on the larger bombs coming down.
In the middle of it, a gaggle of flaming survivors of the torpedo strikes, either damaged or frightened out of dropping on the carriers come towards our little cluster. Nine planes, some with two torpedoes each vector towards the cruiser group. I race to interpose myself between our cruisers and the planes. I get off two wing shots, and that puts paid to the planes, but I saw some drop their torpedoes before they went down. Perhaps seven fish in the water.
Tenryuu is dealing with several dive bombers, ignoring the warnings as she fights for her life. I reload on the run, flechettes this time. I see no wakes, so electrics, or long-lances. I can't risk the torpedoes failed on hitting the water. The aim point is pure guesswork, from experiments with the destroyers and lots of practice. One, then two, rather than both at once. Two then three more explosions, how many are left, did the shots get all seven, did I miss some? The torpedo explosions and the demise of the dive bombers gets Tenryuu's attention, and considering she's stern first at the torpedoes, and how she died, her fatal moment of hesitation is almost predictable.
I'm between the torpedo tracks and the cruiser, I don't try to reload, you shouldn't be handling explosives when you expect to be torpedoed. The collision alarm has been sounding since I elected to take this action. My guesstimation of their track is spot on.
I take two hits on the best protected part of my torpedo defense, and yes, they were long-lances. Lookouts reported no other tracks but that may mean nothing. The pain is like nothing I've experienced. My US-trained damage control parties are dealing with the flooding. I've crumpled to my knees, but as Tenryuu and Ooi rush over, Tatsuta and Kitakami maintaining their anti-air watch, I force myself to stand up. The concern on their faces is evident as I reload my drilling. The air attack isn't over, whichever planes have dropped their loads, and won't make it home may turn around and try to kamikaze.
"Are you all right?" Tenryuu asks.
"That was brave, but it was stupid," Ooi adds.
"A damaged battleship survives, a dead cruiser does not," I reply, "I could hardly look at Admiral Cunningham and report I'd stood by." I'm glad of the darkness, they can't see how pale I am, or my hands shaking now that I have the drilling reloaded and the action closed. I know flipping it closed is cooler, but I wouldn't risk that when handling Sanshikis.
The sudden quiet had all of us looking around worriedly. The battleships' AAA had fallen silent. There were no remaining planes.
"I think I'd better report in," I say and look to Ooi, "I have a feeling you'll need a different heavy unit tomorrow."
She seems completely tongue-tied. British understatement, those torpedo wounds HURT. Don't let them see you run, and don't let them see you cry, it's bad for morale.
------------------------------
It seems that we didn't get off as lightly as I thought. Hiei had one of the Tarzons go off behind her, whether the scantlings, propellers or shafts took the brunt, she was going no where under her own power. I had power to spare, as long as I stayed below 12 knots so I wouldn't exacerbate the damage the torpedoes had done.
My crew controlled the flooding, but beyond 12 knots I endangered the exposed bulkheads. So enough horsepower to go 32, but structure says unwise. Simple solution to getting Hiei to the fleet repair dock at Port Moresby. Several destroyers were also injured in the fighting and the air attack. So we aren't going alone.
The only one with a problem, is Hiei. It turns out many of the pranks I'd attributed to Kongo, were Hiei. Now I know, she knows I know, and I'm not going farther down that rabbit hole, but she has to trust that I'll tow her all the way to Port Moresby.
I shall of course, a gentleman wouldn't abandon a lady in the middle of the sea to marauding subs and raptorial aircraft. But she knows I'll have every opportunity to revenge myself upon her. I remember a passage from The Good Book, Romans 12:20 I believe 'Therefore if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink: for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head.' I do wonder why so many preachers leave off that last bit?
So plenty of drills for our escorts, but no actual threat. And no 'accidentally' leaving off the 'this is a drill'. It would be remiss, as this is my first squadron command, if I didn't return our escorts and myself better than I received them. There's being a gentleman, and then there's being a doormat.
------------------------------
Ah Port Moresby pilot boat in sight, we'll arrive about four hours before the bulk of the fleet. We returned at 12 knots with much maneuvering, they come back at 20 in approximately a straight line. The last drill was an hour ago and none further are scheduled. I've generally assigned the destroyers and DEs to commence the drills. I tell them that 'at a point of your choosing in this hour start this drill'. It's to surprise all of us, but they are dutiful to sound general quarters, and announce it's a drill, and then we continue the drill.
Poor Hiei, despite me assigning her the duty a few times on the first day of our trip, usually at night, she is still a nervous wreck as we approach the port proper. Subs, surface ships, aircraft, minefields, all manner of hazards at sea, all drills. I cannot imagine what she fancied I'd do to her during those drills, but it must have been terrible. The escorts have cut their times to go from peaceful sailing to full readiness by a third to half. They are feeling very happy with themselves, thus highlighting the disparity.
Yes, somewhat cruel, but all in her imagination. I was merely a harsh taskmaster, she assumed I'd abandon her to whatever attack we faced. The guilty conscience preying upon her mind. 'What would be the worst thing he could do?' And she never realized the answer: let you stew on the matter.
The wheelchair for her is waiting, and transferring into it requires her to completely dismiss her rigging, while still on the water. The assumption is she can barely walk as a girl, but cannot move on the water. She has to depend on me and our escorts not to let her fall or sink during her transition. I take up the spot directly behind her, where she cannot look.
She releases her rigging, sinks the couple of inches onto the concrete of the ramp, and with wet shoes climbs into the wheelchair for transport to the repair baths. Armidale winks at me, good girl, she figured it out too. You let the guilty conscience be the lash on another, it strikes the tender spots you don't even know about, and you retain all honor while they travel through their own personal Hell. I have a plan for Kongo as well. I just have to wait. It will be better with an audience. A patch of hazing 'the new guy' is an established and necessary Navy tradition. Seeing how someone deals with stress, but the relentless teasing needs to stop. It will degrade efficiency.
Being a gentleman does not mean being a doormat.
------------------------------
I await the destroyer screen of the battleline coming on shore. I wave to them as they cry out 'Howe' and the ever-present jokes based on my name. I spot Akatsuki, and as the Fates are smiling on me, Kongo and her sisters are near the destroyer.
"Mister Howe, you should be in the baths," the tiny girl scolds me, staring at the obvious wound.
"I wanted to make sure they'd be available for someone who needed them more than I," I say and squat so we're eye to eye, the rest of Destroyer Division Six approach. "And I found out an important lesson for the truly elegant lady."
I ignore the smirks from the rest of the division, and concentrate on Akatsuki's reverent expression. The advantage of being a ship rather than just a human, I can appear to be looking only at the destroyer, while my lookouts report that the three Kongo sisters are drifting into range. "It seems that Hiei is behind many of the practical jokes I've been subjected to." Lookouts report three battlecruisers incoming. "And she actually thought that during the trip here, I'd take some kind of revenge on her." Lookouts report battlecruisers coming to action stations.
"You didn't, did you?" Hibiki asks.
I laugh. "I'm a gentleman," I say, "To even deign to notice it is beneath me. But I have to explain why. All men of quality, men with options want a woman with some whimsy in her. Few men want a stone. But too much and a woman might be an entertaining mistress, but she'll never be a wife." Lookouts report hits on Kongo's bridge, and she's venting steam, possible hits in machinery spaces. "And frankly, the campaign of Miss Hiei, a man of quality might mistake it for . . . " I glance around, "The attention-seeking of a woman of the town, seeking to ply her avocation." Lookout reports hits on Kirishima's bridge. Kongo is down by the bow and all turrets out of action.
The destroyers aren't old enough to recognize the euphemism, and can't quite make out what I said, but my disdain is clear, so they get the context. Kongo and Kirishima know exactly what I said. Haruna, lookouts only reported shell splashes. Interesting.
"So a certain childlike character: innocence, playfulness, is attractive. Too much going to childishness is not." Lookouts report fires across Kongo's decks. I tap Akatsuki on the nose. "So the important thing is don't discard everything of childlike nature. A leavening is better than none, but too much is worse than none." Lookouts report torpedo hits on Kongo and Kirishima.
I stand and ruffle Akatsuki's hair, and when she opens her mouth I raise an eyebrow and stare at her. She puts her hat back on and frowns adorably. "Perfect," I tell her and set her blushing.
I look at the two stricken and one confused battlecruisers, and the small audience of battleships and heavy cruisers all smirking at the incidental verbal battering. "Oh, Miss Haruna, we're you injured in the battles?"
"Haruna is all right!" the battlecruiser says briskly.
"Could I trouble you to help me pass out sherbet and ice cream -?"
"CANADIAN BACON!" comes from every IJN destroyer, and now the other destroyers are lost in the fog.
"To all these valiant warriors," I say, "Since once I'm in the baths, my crew will be too busy with repairs." I look at the destroyers. "I have enough for one big scoop, or two smaller scoops of two flavors." I look at the other destroyers as Haruna is nodding. "I also have orange sherbet; vanilla, chocolate and kiwi ice cream. And I have butterrum and peppermint crunch to try out."
The acclamations are universal, and herding the destroyers to the mess hall is trivially easy. Haruna glances back to the smoldering wrecks stopped and sinking to our rear.
"You don't think Hiei-ni-san is, ah?" Haruna asks.
"No, of course not, I know better," I say, "But it would be an easy mistake for others to make."
Haruna nods, falling silent again as we head for the mess hall.
"There are destroyers who went to the baths," Hibiki reminds me.
"I'll hold back some for them," I say and tousle her hair. Unlike Akatsuki, she leans into it.
------------------------------
That destroyers are flotillas or divisions is driven home by the passing out of the frozen treats. Groups would approach and put in their order, and one would order the unusual flavor, while the rest order the more usual. For the RN and USN destroyers it's vanilla, chocolate or kiwi, and one order of Canadian Bacon sherbet, or butterrum crunch, or peppermint crunch. For the IJN, it's all Canadian Bacon with one of orange, or one of the two crunches.
They will immediately cluster around the unusual flavor and every ship gets a taste. Then the one who ordered it gets a taste from all the others' ice cream or sherbet. So they experiment, but only as a group, it's quite interesting. I doubt they worked it out over their entire population, each flotilla/division worked it out themselves.
Haruna gets a very small scoop of each flavor for helping me, and Canadian Bacon sherbet is definitely a destroyer flavor. We don't talk much, but she helps scooping from the containers, and collecting the dishes after the destroyers are done. Note a small scoop is nearly a cup, and a large is nearly a pint.
The faces pressed against the mess hall's windows are amusing. It would be beneath me to notice any drool, but the laughter of the destroyers does lighten my heart.
Once the dishes are collected, Haruna and the Duckies have ice cream for the destroyers in the baths, I head towards the baths. I am eager to get the damage repaired. The local team has an isolated area for me, privacy for me or for the ladies? It doesn't matter. I welcome it.
The crew begins making the repairs I need, the coffer dam is disassembled and the baths heal the damage at an accelerated rate. With barely a steaming watch assigned, I let sleep descend on me.
------------------------------
In the crowded destroyer dorm at Port Moresby, with great and mysterious sanctimony, they gathered.
"Put out the candles and open the drapes," Heerman ordered, "You'll set someone's hair or hat on fire."
"NOW!" Kamikaze added.
"Awww," came the reply, along with the hiss of extinguished wicks and the curtains being pulled aside to let the sunlight stream in.
"Look we all see how lonely Mister Howe is. The whole trip back here, Hiei barely said a word to him," Heerman said, "Even grumbling about all the drills, we still talked to him, and with all these ships here, we have a chance to do something about it."
"Except what do we do?" Akatsuki asked.
"I've got a great idea!" Johnston said. And a great moan rose from the assembled. "Naw, come on this is perfect! We tell Mister Howe that there's a girl who needs practice dating to catch the eye of the man she's interested in."
"Nobody would believe that," Ushio said.
"Let me finish," Johnston replied, "And we tell, say Iowa, the same, that he needs to practice."
"And the first time they talk, they realize we lied to them," Fletcher said.
"Let me finish," Johnston said, "We tell Mister Howe that she's so shy we had to tell her that she's there to help him, and we tell her the same, that he's shy so she's there to help him. That way they can talk about it, and they won't get any clue that it's really a date."
Hoel shook her head. "That actually sounds like a good plan," she said, "God help us."
"Okay," Hibiki said, "But it's not believable. Not with Iowa."
"Who? Yamato?" Johnston asked.
"Wait!" Lupo said and with Armidale and Curtatone separated the pair, "We need to pick the loneliest ship-girl, battleship or carrier. Say we all make a list five at the top, down to one, and whoever gets the highest rating, that's who we pick. Not prettiest, loneliest. That way she's more likely to agree and enjoy herself."
"Nobody can vote for Ashigara," Fubuki said, "She dates a lot!"
"Kongo's out too," Johnston said, "She's taken."
"She'd hardly be classed as lonely," Heerman said as she passed out sheets of paper, "Armidale, Lupo and Curtatone will count the votes."
"You don't trust us?" Akatsuki asked.
"I don't trust me," Heerman said, "We all have our favorites, but theirs is Howe."
The three torpedo boats blushed.
So the IJN, USN, RN (RAN, RNZN, RCN) and the KMS were assembling two fast fleets to converge. With the South Americans, French and Italians temporarily holding the Atlantic, the USN/RN group was sailing out of Australia, and we were sailing out of Japan.
Finally I would be able to prove myself in the heat of battle, and erase or at least occlude the stain that still hovered over me.
The details of the fight to be unfortunately had the mark of the IJN's love of complexity. While such deceptions in sword fighting or small unit actions gave an advantage to the master swordsman, naval battles requiring your allies, and your enemy to do exactly what you are expecting are doomed to failure.
Fortunately, the USN and the RN had put in some buffer. Both formations would meet, a few cruisers would be exchanged to keep closer coordination with the formations when they separated into a combined battleline and a combined carrier task force. Hopefully the best of the doctrines of each would will out. I was assigned to the fast raiding squadron as part of the battleline. Better than 30 knots or don't apply. The Kongos were not pleased to be back with the carriers, along with the Alaskas, as heavy escorts. They are luckier than the Ise/Fuso-classes and the Standards, they were left behind completely. This was what the Kongos were built for, but this wasn't the winnowing of the Kantaikesen vs. Plan Orange, this was to pluck out the eyes and ears and appear at as many places on their perimeter at once as possible. So the fastest of fast battleships, and a few torpedo-heavy cruisers.
The subs, both steel-hull and sub girls, had swept into the area. Some bright spark had realized that the sub-girls could board the special forces enclosure, whatever they call it, and get a rest and a breath of air, recharge their batteries off a nuclear sub's power plant, and greatly increase their range and effectiveness. Modern subs' towed arrays also being one of the few things that could reliably detect Abyssals, they heard them. Sub-girls gave the steel-hulls eyes around them.
I'd not actually met too many subs, they seemed very shy and retiring, but considering whatever I had done to offend every cruiser and capital ship I ever met, I suppose my reputation extended to them as well.
Ooi and Kitakami are with me, spotter planes are out, and we are allowed to openly transmit, although `Fuso` and `Oklahoma` aren't pleased with the deception. I'm Louisiana, so the pair of torpedo cruisers have no room to complain. Named after a French King's mother no doubt.
Bismarck, Prinz Eugen and Mogami draw first blood, as a swarm of destroyers race out to get `Nevada`, `Tennessee` and `Hyuga`. The battle is a confused mess of warcries, gunfire and warnings, but the trio handle it well, turning it into a running fight, drawing the enemy away from Truk and destroying them.
My trio have drawn a better card. A cruiser squadron with a fast battleship in support. Why better? Torpedo soup. Our two cruisers dump half of their torpedoes into the path of the oncoming ships, while I get ready to pepper them with long-range fire.
When the battleship takes three hits, I open up on the force. A straddle with the first salvo, Royal Navy training! The cruisers hold gun fire as they separate to catch the remaining force in an anvil attack. My spotters say the enemy is still coming on, centered on the wounded but aggressive battleship. I've been picking off cruisers to foster that behavior. Two hits and the cruiser force which started at eight before the torpedoes is down to four. I've not allowed the wounded to retire.
The force finally sights more than my spotters or my gunflashes, and they are on the hunt. But Ooi and Kitakami have timed it perfectly. The entire force takes torpedo hits, and my mains and secondaries finish off the cripples.
Unfortunately for the Iowas and Tirpitz, the Abyssals learn their lesson and no further patrols are seen. Night falls and the raiders are withdrawn to the anti-aircraft bubble of the carriers and the combined battleline. I grab a quick bite then head out to sweeten the rations of our radar pickets with some sherbet or ice cream. Not precisely a bribe, but an encouragement.
By the time I arrive back the various flotillas have formed and again I am left alone. I'm glad whatever I've done hasn't affected the fighting spirit, or the willingness to work with me. But it is hard, and I know why Ooi and Kitakami have been assigned to me, but a gentleman doesn't pick at such things as it's consensual and like the Sacred Band of Thebes, it didn't weaken their fighting power. I take up station near enough that I can guard, but not close enough to interfere. The RN's battlestations doctrine lets me 'wake up' faster than most.
------------------------------
The Abyss hits back an hour before dawn. While further north or south a long twilight adds hours to the day, where we are twilight is a short thing, so it's quite dark when the destroyers sound the 'many planes' warning. Tenryuu and Tatsuta had motored over with several destroyers to check torpedo loadouts with Ooi and Kitakami. They are forced to scramble for position as the planes come in at medium altitude. They had come in low until they were spotted then popped up to look for targets, and while the ships are dark, the touch of an airborne radar is felt by all with detectors.
This is going to be chaos, which has its own advantages and disadvantages. For the enemy, it will be an uncoordinated, general attack. For us, it will be an attack from every direction with only a few planes from the RN CVs as a CAP. We'll have to keep our eyes on a swivel, and not run into or shoot each other.
The drilling was loaded last night. The Japanese capital ships, and I fire the Sanshikis. It also gives us our first view of the enemy. They are all land-based, two-engined torpedo bombers, obscene versions of the He-111, Beaufort, G4M Betty and Martin Marauder, but additional elements of the raid are higher up and climbing. Dive or level bombers time will tell.
I have a bandolier of shot shells and a pouch with a few Sanshiki rounds, I only lack a proper deerstalker to look the part of a country gentleman. The four cruisers near me have little to add in the way of AA, nor do I, which is worrying. I have to hope the boffins at H&H have done what tests showed they did, but tests aren't combat. Tests rarely kill.
The torpedo groups fall to the Fletchers, then the Atlantas, before they reach the hideous barrage of the Iowas, North Carolinas and South Dakotas. I watch the other sectors, and sure enough, a group who'd gotten lost has seen that barrage and come around from behind, exactly as I feared. The shotgun's blast clears eight of the twelve from the sky, and the others fire at them as they break into evasive maneuvers. I leave it to them, reload and pat my now trusty fieldpiece, and look for others lost or directed to envelop. I also look skyward, and here they come.
"Divebombers," I warn as I take aim and fire, the Sanshiki first, then as they close in, the shot shells. The unengaged battleships' AAA opens up at the bombers as all of us take evasive action. Some remained at altitude, so high-level bombs are also coming down.
Two flechette shells go in, no time to properly load the rifle, and I aim at a couple of bombs that seem to be guiding towards Illustrious and Kaga a little too well for random chance. The explosions several thousand feet above them is impressive. It illuminates the others. Tarzons, not of Edgar Rice Burroughs, an American mating of the Fritz-X and the Tallboy technologies: an armor penetrator with radio guidance.
"Got them!" Armidale announces and in radio frequencies makes a sound like drunken tomcats singing opera. The lethal bombs begin guiding off target. Not even making near misses as they explode within the sea.
The dive bombers mistakenly concentrate on the brightly illuminated battleships, forgetting they are brightly illuminated by the massive flak batteries inherent with them. My trick inspired several of the others as some the ships with lesser AA, but with VT fuses fire on the larger bombs coming down.
In the middle of it, a gaggle of flaming survivors of the torpedo strikes, either damaged or frightened out of dropping on the carriers come towards our little cluster. Nine planes, some with two torpedoes each vector towards the cruiser group. I race to interpose myself between our cruisers and the planes. I get off two wing shots, and that puts paid to the planes, but I saw some drop their torpedoes before they went down. Perhaps seven fish in the water.
Tenryuu is dealing with several dive bombers, ignoring the warnings as she fights for her life. I reload on the run, flechettes this time. I see no wakes, so electrics, or long-lances. I can't risk the torpedoes failed on hitting the water. The aim point is pure guesswork, from experiments with the destroyers and lots of practice. One, then two, rather than both at once. Two then three more explosions, how many are left, did the shots get all seven, did I miss some? The torpedo explosions and the demise of the dive bombers gets Tenryuu's attention, and considering she's stern first at the torpedoes, and how she died, her fatal moment of hesitation is almost predictable.
I'm between the torpedo tracks and the cruiser, I don't try to reload, you shouldn't be handling explosives when you expect to be torpedoed. The collision alarm has been sounding since I elected to take this action. My guesstimation of their track is spot on.
I take two hits on the best protected part of my torpedo defense, and yes, they were long-lances. Lookouts reported no other tracks but that may mean nothing. The pain is like nothing I've experienced. My US-trained damage control parties are dealing with the flooding. I've crumpled to my knees, but as Tenryuu and Ooi rush over, Tatsuta and Kitakami maintaining their anti-air watch, I force myself to stand up. The concern on their faces is evident as I reload my drilling. The air attack isn't over, whichever planes have dropped their loads, and won't make it home may turn around and try to kamikaze.
"Are you all right?" Tenryuu asks.
"That was brave, but it was stupid," Ooi adds.
"A damaged battleship survives, a dead cruiser does not," I reply, "I could hardly look at Admiral Cunningham and report I'd stood by." I'm glad of the darkness, they can't see how pale I am, or my hands shaking now that I have the drilling reloaded and the action closed. I know flipping it closed is cooler, but I wouldn't risk that when handling Sanshikis.
The sudden quiet had all of us looking around worriedly. The battleships' AAA had fallen silent. There were no remaining planes.
"I think I'd better report in," I say and look to Ooi, "I have a feeling you'll need a different heavy unit tomorrow."
She seems completely tongue-tied. British understatement, those torpedo wounds HURT. Don't let them see you run, and don't let them see you cry, it's bad for morale.
------------------------------
It seems that we didn't get off as lightly as I thought. Hiei had one of the Tarzons go off behind her, whether the scantlings, propellers or shafts took the brunt, she was going no where under her own power. I had power to spare, as long as I stayed below 12 knots so I wouldn't exacerbate the damage the torpedoes had done.
My crew controlled the flooding, but beyond 12 knots I endangered the exposed bulkheads. So enough horsepower to go 32, but structure says unwise. Simple solution to getting Hiei to the fleet repair dock at Port Moresby. Several destroyers were also injured in the fighting and the air attack. So we aren't going alone.
The only one with a problem, is Hiei. It turns out many of the pranks I'd attributed to Kongo, were Hiei. Now I know, she knows I know, and I'm not going farther down that rabbit hole, but she has to trust that I'll tow her all the way to Port Moresby.
I shall of course, a gentleman wouldn't abandon a lady in the middle of the sea to marauding subs and raptorial aircraft. But she knows I'll have every opportunity to revenge myself upon her. I remember a passage from The Good Book, Romans 12:20 I believe 'Therefore if thine enemy hunger, feed him; if he thirst, give him drink: for in so doing thou shalt heap coals of fire on his head.' I do wonder why so many preachers leave off that last bit?
So plenty of drills for our escorts, but no actual threat. And no 'accidentally' leaving off the 'this is a drill'. It would be remiss, as this is my first squadron command, if I didn't return our escorts and myself better than I received them. There's being a gentleman, and then there's being a doormat.
------------------------------
Ah Port Moresby pilot boat in sight, we'll arrive about four hours before the bulk of the fleet. We returned at 12 knots with much maneuvering, they come back at 20 in approximately a straight line. The last drill was an hour ago and none further are scheduled. I've generally assigned the destroyers and DEs to commence the drills. I tell them that 'at a point of your choosing in this hour start this drill'. It's to surprise all of us, but they are dutiful to sound general quarters, and announce it's a drill, and then we continue the drill.
Poor Hiei, despite me assigning her the duty a few times on the first day of our trip, usually at night, she is still a nervous wreck as we approach the port proper. Subs, surface ships, aircraft, minefields, all manner of hazards at sea, all drills. I cannot imagine what she fancied I'd do to her during those drills, but it must have been terrible. The escorts have cut their times to go from peaceful sailing to full readiness by a third to half. They are feeling very happy with themselves, thus highlighting the disparity.
Yes, somewhat cruel, but all in her imagination. I was merely a harsh taskmaster, she assumed I'd abandon her to whatever attack we faced. The guilty conscience preying upon her mind. 'What would be the worst thing he could do?' And she never realized the answer: let you stew on the matter.
The wheelchair for her is waiting, and transferring into it requires her to completely dismiss her rigging, while still on the water. The assumption is she can barely walk as a girl, but cannot move on the water. She has to depend on me and our escorts not to let her fall or sink during her transition. I take up the spot directly behind her, where she cannot look.
She releases her rigging, sinks the couple of inches onto the concrete of the ramp, and with wet shoes climbs into the wheelchair for transport to the repair baths. Armidale winks at me, good girl, she figured it out too. You let the guilty conscience be the lash on another, it strikes the tender spots you don't even know about, and you retain all honor while they travel through their own personal Hell. I have a plan for Kongo as well. I just have to wait. It will be better with an audience. A patch of hazing 'the new guy' is an established and necessary Navy tradition. Seeing how someone deals with stress, but the relentless teasing needs to stop. It will degrade efficiency.
Being a gentleman does not mean being a doormat.
------------------------------
I await the destroyer screen of the battleline coming on shore. I wave to them as they cry out 'Howe' and the ever-present jokes based on my name. I spot Akatsuki, and as the Fates are smiling on me, Kongo and her sisters are near the destroyer.
"Mister Howe, you should be in the baths," the tiny girl scolds me, staring at the obvious wound.
"I wanted to make sure they'd be available for someone who needed them more than I," I say and squat so we're eye to eye, the rest of Destroyer Division Six approach. "And I found out an important lesson for the truly elegant lady."
I ignore the smirks from the rest of the division, and concentrate on Akatsuki's reverent expression. The advantage of being a ship rather than just a human, I can appear to be looking only at the destroyer, while my lookouts report that the three Kongo sisters are drifting into range. "It seems that Hiei is behind many of the practical jokes I've been subjected to." Lookouts report three battlecruisers incoming. "And she actually thought that during the trip here, I'd take some kind of revenge on her." Lookouts report battlecruisers coming to action stations.
"You didn't, did you?" Hibiki asks.
I laugh. "I'm a gentleman," I say, "To even deign to notice it is beneath me. But I have to explain why. All men of quality, men with options want a woman with some whimsy in her. Few men want a stone. But too much and a woman might be an entertaining mistress, but she'll never be a wife." Lookouts report hits on Kongo's bridge, and she's venting steam, possible hits in machinery spaces. "And frankly, the campaign of Miss Hiei, a man of quality might mistake it for . . . " I glance around, "The attention-seeking of a woman of the town, seeking to ply her avocation." Lookout reports hits on Kirishima's bridge. Kongo is down by the bow and all turrets out of action.
The destroyers aren't old enough to recognize the euphemism, and can't quite make out what I said, but my disdain is clear, so they get the context. Kongo and Kirishima know exactly what I said. Haruna, lookouts only reported shell splashes. Interesting.
"So a certain childlike character: innocence, playfulness, is attractive. Too much going to childishness is not." Lookouts report fires across Kongo's decks. I tap Akatsuki on the nose. "So the important thing is don't discard everything of childlike nature. A leavening is better than none, but too much is worse than none." Lookouts report torpedo hits on Kongo and Kirishima.
I stand and ruffle Akatsuki's hair, and when she opens her mouth I raise an eyebrow and stare at her. She puts her hat back on and frowns adorably. "Perfect," I tell her and set her blushing.
I look at the two stricken and one confused battlecruisers, and the small audience of battleships and heavy cruisers all smirking at the incidental verbal battering. "Oh, Miss Haruna, we're you injured in the battles?"
"Haruna is all right!" the battlecruiser says briskly.
"Could I trouble you to help me pass out sherbet and ice cream -?"
"CANADIAN BACON!" comes from every IJN destroyer, and now the other destroyers are lost in the fog.
"To all these valiant warriors," I say, "Since once I'm in the baths, my crew will be too busy with repairs." I look at the destroyers. "I have enough for one big scoop, or two smaller scoops of two flavors." I look at the other destroyers as Haruna is nodding. "I also have orange sherbet; vanilla, chocolate and kiwi ice cream. And I have butterrum and peppermint crunch to try out."
The acclamations are universal, and herding the destroyers to the mess hall is trivially easy. Haruna glances back to the smoldering wrecks stopped and sinking to our rear.
"You don't think Hiei-ni-san is, ah?" Haruna asks.
"No, of course not, I know better," I say, "But it would be an easy mistake for others to make."
Haruna nods, falling silent again as we head for the mess hall.
"There are destroyers who went to the baths," Hibiki reminds me.
"I'll hold back some for them," I say and tousle her hair. Unlike Akatsuki, she leans into it.
------------------------------
That destroyers are flotillas or divisions is driven home by the passing out of the frozen treats. Groups would approach and put in their order, and one would order the unusual flavor, while the rest order the more usual. For the RN and USN destroyers it's vanilla, chocolate or kiwi, and one order of Canadian Bacon sherbet, or butterrum crunch, or peppermint crunch. For the IJN, it's all Canadian Bacon with one of orange, or one of the two crunches.
They will immediately cluster around the unusual flavor and every ship gets a taste. Then the one who ordered it gets a taste from all the others' ice cream or sherbet. So they experiment, but only as a group, it's quite interesting. I doubt they worked it out over their entire population, each flotilla/division worked it out themselves.
Haruna gets a very small scoop of each flavor for helping me, and Canadian Bacon sherbet is definitely a destroyer flavor. We don't talk much, but she helps scooping from the containers, and collecting the dishes after the destroyers are done. Note a small scoop is nearly a cup, and a large is nearly a pint.
The faces pressed against the mess hall's windows are amusing. It would be beneath me to notice any drool, but the laughter of the destroyers does lighten my heart.
Once the dishes are collected, Haruna and the Duckies have ice cream for the destroyers in the baths, I head towards the baths. I am eager to get the damage repaired. The local team has an isolated area for me, privacy for me or for the ladies? It doesn't matter. I welcome it.
The crew begins making the repairs I need, the coffer dam is disassembled and the baths heal the damage at an accelerated rate. With barely a steaming watch assigned, I let sleep descend on me.
------------------------------
In the crowded destroyer dorm at Port Moresby, with great and mysterious sanctimony, they gathered.
"Put out the candles and open the drapes," Heerman ordered, "You'll set someone's hair or hat on fire."
"NOW!" Kamikaze added.
"Awww," came the reply, along with the hiss of extinguished wicks and the curtains being pulled aside to let the sunlight stream in.
"Look we all see how lonely Mister Howe is. The whole trip back here, Hiei barely said a word to him," Heerman said, "Even grumbling about all the drills, we still talked to him, and with all these ships here, we have a chance to do something about it."
"Except what do we do?" Akatsuki asked.
"I've got a great idea!" Johnston said. And a great moan rose from the assembled. "Naw, come on this is perfect! We tell Mister Howe that there's a girl who needs practice dating to catch the eye of the man she's interested in."
"Nobody would believe that," Ushio said.
"Let me finish," Johnston replied, "And we tell, say Iowa, the same, that he needs to practice."
"And the first time they talk, they realize we lied to them," Fletcher said.
"Let me finish," Johnston said, "We tell Mister Howe that she's so shy we had to tell her that she's there to help him, and we tell her the same, that he's shy so she's there to help him. That way they can talk about it, and they won't get any clue that it's really a date."
Hoel shook her head. "That actually sounds like a good plan," she said, "God help us."
"Okay," Hibiki said, "But it's not believable. Not with Iowa."
"Who? Yamato?" Johnston asked.
"Wait!" Lupo said and with Armidale and Curtatone separated the pair, "We need to pick the loneliest ship-girl, battleship or carrier. Say we all make a list five at the top, down to one, and whoever gets the highest rating, that's who we pick. Not prettiest, loneliest. That way she's more likely to agree and enjoy herself."
"Nobody can vote for Ashigara," Fubuki said, "She dates a lot!"
"Kongo's out too," Johnston said, "She's taken."
"She'd hardly be classed as lonely," Heerman said as she passed out sheets of paper, "Armidale, Lupo and Curtatone will count the votes."
"You don't trust us?" Akatsuki asked.
"I don't trust me," Heerman said, "We all have our favorites, but theirs is Howe."
The three torpedo boats blushed.
This is an interesting start for a story. Although in chapter one Howe doesn't realise the larger shipgirls' standoff-ishness is due to them being attracted to them, and in chapter two it feels like he's realised what's happening, but there's no transition between the two states or explanation of how it happens. I enjoy your plotlines, but this seems to be habit in your other works as well, hopping between attitudes or actions without covering the interim. It often leaves the stories feeling disjointed, and I regularly find myself wondering if I missed an update.
To be clear, because I don't trust my meanings to come across otherwise, this is intended as constructive criticism rather than simple complaining.
To be clear, because I don't trust my meanings to come across otherwise, this is intended as constructive criticism rather than simple complaining.
I think the idea is that Howe considers the pranks to be hazing the new guy, but is implying that the pranks are equivalent to pulling the pigtails of a girl you like, just with all of the grace, elegance and restraint of a sailor on their first night of shore leave while three sheets to the wind... completely missing the fact that Hiei is indeed trying to pull his figurative pigtails?
This Is a fascinating idea, I love how you display the different views on Howe's socal situation, and am very hopefull for where this story goes
In this case he hasn't figured it out. He doesn't think they are interested, he's just trying to insult them.
Not a problem. I post here to learn my weaknesses.
He isn't saying Hiei's behavior is girlish, a woman of the town is a 19th century, very polite way of saying streetwalker. He's saying Hiei's behavior could be mistaken as a prostitute hailing customers on the street. Kongo knows what he said. He's in no way saying she has a crush on him.
I hope I can keep meeting your expectations.
The Destroyer's Campaign: Meeting Engagement
Haruna opened the door to their apartment, glanced down at the now familiar collection and looked around for any clue of who had knocked on the door and left them. She sighed and brought them inside to add to the growing pile.
"Another fire extinguisher and some burn cream," she told Kirishima and Kongo, "I'll put them with the rest. Maybe we can donate them to a charity." She ignored the forlorn sighs from her sisters.
"I hope they're leaving Hiei alone," Haruna said to herself.
------------------------------
I'm decently clothed as Lupo, Armidale and Johnston enter the private bath.
"Is there a problem?" I ask, dreading that the enemy has managed a counterattack.
"Yes, but not a general quarters problem," Lupo says.
"More a dad-bote, gentleman problem," Johnston says, realizes what she said and covers her mouth.
" 'Dad-bote'?" I ask, rolling the word around in my mind. I knew certain ships were 'mom-botes' those the smaller or younger ships sought out for advice and comfort, I am guessing dad-bote is a variation.
Armidale pushes an unresisting Johnston out of the enclosure while Lupo continues, occasionally looking back and frowning after the departed Johnston, "There's a lady, a ship-girl, well she has her eye on someone, but she has no idea how to proceed. And after what you told Akatsuki, we realized, you could give her lessons."
"A lady would know," I say, "There's more to this, it isn't that she doesn't know, it's that she needs someone to start it, perhaps make her soon to be beau jealous?"
Lupo considers while Armidale returns alone. "Sort of, but not jealousy," the corvette says, "She's a bit too shy to take the first step." Armidale glances around. "In fact, we kinda fibbed and told her you were the shy one and needed the help."
I frown at that.
"She wouldn't do anything, unless it was to help another," Lupo says.
"I'm more worried you got her commitment, before securing mine," I say, "The poor . . . you knew that if you got hers I'd be less likely to refuse. I must remember that destroyers are ambush-predators." I stare at the nervously grinning schemers, "Very well, who's the bloke and what do you need?"
"Ah, OpSec," Lupo says nervously.
"Lupo," I say sternly, "I am well aware I'm in another time, and for ship-girls companionship, especially intimate companionship is hard to find. I am well aware of what Ooi and Kitakami do in private. If it's another ship-girl, I can completely understand. Oscar Wilde was rather blatant about it, so too several English Kings, the idea that women would find someone attractive that way is not an Eldritch Abomination that would send me down the screaming halls of insanity. I've seen the Twitter Shrines and hate-sites about me." I would not even mention Rule 34, or the Howe-goatsee site I stumbled across. And people think Abyssals are hard to imagine. God's Truth what has been seen cannot be unseen.
The pair are matching my shudders at what they might have seen on that stage of human depravity. Safe search only goes so far.
"It's a capital ship," Armidale says, "And we already did the research: restaurant, what she likes to do at night, everything. Destroyers are scouts too."
I nod. "I should be available in three days. Note, the corsage should be a yellow rose, not red. Very important."
They depart happily, and I'm left to wonder is this a joke on me, or the poor lady. Well, I shall ignore that and make certain she'll enjoy our time together. Lupo rushes back in, hands over a folder and rushes out. The plastic sleeved pages have a rather exhaustive dossier on the ship-girl, restaurants, activities, and the corsage red is crossed out and replaced with yellow rose.
I've been snookered, I have to remember they fought a war of many campaigns, while I've fought but a single battle.
------------------------------
Outside Armidale gave Johnston a fistbump. "I didn't think you could pull it off," Armidale admitted.
Johnston preened. "Give them one easy victory and they quit looking so hard."
Lupo nodded. "Now it's up to team two. I'm still not sure how she won."
"Just be glad it wasn't Musashi," Johnston said, "She was coming in second."
"How can Musashi be lonely?" Armidale asked and mimed Musashi's magnificent `magazines`.
"Sometimes a target is just too much," Lupo admitted, "So one never tries."
They nodded.
------------------------------
Curtatone, Akatsuki and Suzutsuki approached the apartment door and knocked.
They heard the 'coming' and they waited. The motherly figure smiled at them, and the unexpected poll victor was suddenly perfect.
"Miss Houshou, we have kind of a big favor to ask," Curtatone said, her hat in hand.
------------------------------
If kings had such power, I think as I scroll through the web browser on my smart phone, Orders to restaurants, airline tickets, and so many other choices. I selected the service, typed in the number and hit the checkout button.
A niggling thought had been troubling me, but with the transportation for the event taken care of, I need to check it. Language of flowers, I think as I type, If so much else has changed in a hundred years. Japanese Language of Flowers? Oh dear. Yellow rose, yellow rose. Well, it's apropos, but I think I need to change the order.
The repair ship Hitonose and two 'ship-doctors' arrive. "Reading up?" the repair ship asks.
"The world is very different," I say as they check the condition of my repairs. My own engineering teams tell me we are ahead of schedule, but the doctors will confirm or deny.
"I think you're up for a little physical therapy," Hitonose says, "How do you feel about a bit of a walk?"
"I actually was hoping to get one," I admit, "I have an appointment I felt I shouldn't leave to the last moment, and I'm old-fashioned enough to want to do it in person."
"Well, it's walk, so just walk," Hitonose tells me, "We'll check how that repair stands up to a bit of stress and strain. And that does not mean going onto the water."
"Dry land or bridges the whole way, understood," I say, "Although if there's an attack, or someone requires assistance, I'll risk your dressing down for participating."
"We beat the Truk Princess," one of the doctors says.
"Doctor, I'll bow to your medical expertise, but this injury came from squadrons of land-based bombers. And no naval aircraft could carry the Tarzon, only Superfortresses or Lancasters. With conventional bombloads, they could reach here from a wide variety of locations. For someone whose modus operandi was fight, and run away, I doubt they failed to instill that into their imp crews. Unless we knew the numbers of planes and accounted for all of them, some are still out there."
"Have you discussed this with the Admirals?" Hitonose asks.
"It was in a report I forwarded by email to the staff here, while we were in transit," I say, "I have since verified by phone that it was received and forwarded up the chain. One of the reasons the fleet hasn't been dispersed again I'd wager."
The doctors nod and make some notes themselves.
------------------------------
Houshou was going over the logistics requirements with Shouhou. Office space was at a premium, so they were working at a table in their apartment. The fleet hadn't expected to smash the Truk Princess in one grand battle, and then be stationed here in Port Moresby to search for escapees. They had the supplies to maintain the ship-girls, but they weren't positioned or packaged how they needed to be.
The knock on the door brought a welcome break from the concerns about where the resupply convoys were headed and in what order the ships would have to be unloaded to sustain the ship-girls and the base.
"Coming," Houshou said as she and Shouhou stood and stretched. She'd always admired the light carrier's lithe figure, but her dress sense needed work. She was not expecting HMS Howe to be standing on her doorstep.
"Ma'am," he said, "I know the destroyers previously worked this out, but I think this should go by the numbers."
Houshou nodded, remembering the destroyers had told her that they'd told him that she needed the dating practice.
"Would you do me the honor of going to dinner with me on Thursday night, at 1900 local time? The restaurant selected is Italian, so I'd recommend something that can be handily washed. Tomato stains easily."
Houshou ignored the stifled laugh of Shouhou. She had wondered about the girls talking about how dreamy he was. They left out how adorable he is, she thought, Like a 50,000 ton destroyer. No wonder the girls get so tongue-tied. Then he seemed embarrassed and it made him more adorable.
"I also have made a bit of a faux pas," he said, looked downcast, "Your corsage was to arrive tomorrow afternoon, please ignore it, I'll bring one with me. I hadn't realized the language of flowers would be so different between the English and the Japanese."
"What did you order?" Houshou asked and wanted to glance at Shouhou but thought better of it.
"A yellow rose, indicating friendship, I didn't want to impose further than that," he said as if he had committed some mortal sin.
"That sounds wonderful," she said.
He looked at her aghast. "But in Japanese it implies jealousy," he nearly stammered.
Then it's perfect, she thought.
"Are you English, or are you Japanese?" she asked and enjoyed his slightly lost expression.
I'm beginning to see the destroyers only thought they were fibbing to me, she thought.
"As you wish," he said, "I didn't want the wrong message sent."
"I suspect few have done the research you've done," Houshou said and kept her slight smile instead of the grin that was bubbling up inside her, "Or even understand it was anything but a flower."
He nodded. "Granted," he said then stood there for a bit, "Ma'am, do you agree or disagree?"
"Oh, I agree. I understand how you might be rusty at this, and ignore that the destroyers already arranged this."
He nodded. "Ah, quite."
They told him the same thing they told me, Houshou thought. She hid her smile and wondered what other surprises were in store.
He produced several sheets of paper and handed them over, they appeared to be a menu. "I don't know how familiar you are with Italian dishes," he said.
"Not very."
"Excellent, so I contacted the manager and the children's menu items are exactly the same as the adult portions. So I propose that we order five or so items from the children's menu each, and we each take a portion of each. Then if we find what we like, we can order an adult portion."
She wished she had a fan to hand to really sell the next. "Oh, don't you know how intimate sharing food is?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am," he said gravely, "So there would be spare plates we would actually eat from."
Aw, Houshou thought.
She grinned. "I look forward to it, shall I walk or call a car?"
"I've arranged for a proper cab for the night," he said, "They also have an excellent wine cellar. So we can both enjoy it."
She didn't tease him about the obvious possibilities of that.
"Then I'll see you on Thursday night," she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. He was standing there a bit nonplused as she closed the door.
It wasn't until he'd left the hallway that she trusted herself or Shouhou to speak.
"I thought I'd blow a boiler and I wasn't even the one going on the date," the light carrier said.
"Yes, now, shall I get an easily cleaned kimono, or go against type?" Houshou said.
"If you're going to wear a yellow rose," Shouhou said, "Set every ship-girl drooling."
Houshou nodded her agreement.
------------------------------
It was X-Day, nearly H-Hour. Haida was packing up the communications array and the other supplies for her 'hide' while she coordinated observation and the radar pickets. The knock on the door surprised her a bit. Her `runner` Shimakaze raced over to open the door.
"Uh, hello?" she heard Poi-bote's confusion and looked up to see a determined Shouhou, a nervous looking Gambier Bay, a confused Taiyou, and their leader Ryuujou entering.
"Did you really think you could keep this from us?" Ryuujou said and bristled.
Shouhou frowned and covered Ryuujou's mouth. "We want to help," Shouhou said, "Some air cover and scouts could be useful."
"Welcome to Project Invidia," Haida said and extended a hand, which Shouhou shook.
------------------------------
Houshou looked at herself in the mirror again. She posed with the yellow short jacket held over her shoulder and saw the matching yellow capri pants, light blue top with the bared shoulders and the sweetheart neckline, the high ponytail and the understated makeup were all still perfect. She smirked at how stunned Shouhou had been about the choices, but Houshou knew that first, she wanted to look as different as possible, but he hadn't gotten used to seeing her a particular way, this was a bomb to drop on everyone else; second, they were going to be dealing with the realities of wine and tomato sauce, so nothing too expensive; three, she would never shake the 'Mother Houshou' personality and aura, so a young mother going out on the town with older finery was perfect. The fact that the pants and top still managed to show she still had her figure, but didn't flaunt it the way some ship-girls' outfits did was the balance she wanted to achieve. So what if it was last stylish in the 60's, she was as comfortable in it as she was in her flat pumps.
The knock on the door almost made her jump as she slipped into the jacket. Howe was there and as magnificent as ever. The polo shirt he wore was the same beautiful blue as his eyes, the creme khaki pants and brown deck shoes completed the picture, but the jumper tied around his neck as a pseudo-ascot made him look like a fashion plate from the 1980's.
Howe glanced down at his outfit as she stifled a giggle. "White tie and tails, and marinara sauce don't go together, ma'am," he said.
"I was thinking I look like a throwback to the 60's, now you look like a throwback to the 80's, it's perfect," Houshou said.
"Not quite ma'am," he said and gestured to the corsage she wore at her breast, he produced a second from behind his back, "If I may be so bold, let's run the flags up both sets of yardarms."
She laughed and nodded. He carefully fitted the second corsage in her hair, pinning it there securely. Then froze as Houshou leaned forward for him to remove the first. "I don't bite," she told him and grinned.
"How disappointing," he replied, as he carefully unpinned the flower and transferred it to her hair on the opposite side.
He offered his arm. She carefully took his wrist and pulled it down to his side, then clasped her hand in his, and was glad he smiled at that.
"Your carriage awaits," Howe said as they headed down the corridor to the stairs. He blocked her view through the window rather adroitly as they descended the stairs, and looked inordinately pleased with himself.
As they left the building, she saw why. She released his hand and raced ahead to pet the horse who nuzzled her carefully. "You really meant carriage."
"Of course, SarMajor Runiki can serve as driver and guide," Howe said of the Papuan in the top hat and tails, and shorts in the tropical heat.
Houshou giggled again. "The repair baths are going to be full of engineering casualties," she said, accepting his hand to help her into the hansom cab, then braced and offered her hand to him, which he took.
"My plan is offer no quarter," Howe said, "There are blankets under the seats." He showed her.
"How daring. And a football?" Houshou asked.
"Ah mine, sorry," their driver said, both Howe and Houshou waved him off.
"As long as it's Australian rules," Howe said, "We'll be fine."
"Just remember, it's only the ball you can't touch with your hands," Houshou said, and enjoyed Howe's slight blush. Then she grinned and fluttered as he ran the leather upper of his deck shoe up her bare calf.
He whispered, "I do know how the game is played."
She grinned and leaned against him.
------------------------------
Haida looked down at the two fallen carriers, she could almost see the smiling Houshous circling over their heads. "Light carriers," she said as she packed her binoculars and prepared to move to the second position. A quick check with Heerman verified they were in position.
------------------------------
I help Miss Houshou down from the cab. The SarMajor moves to `park` our ride, at my request, in a place it could be easily seen from the restaurant's interior. If we were there to make her beau jealous, jealousy would be had in abundance.
The place is large, and doing good business, but we have a reservation, so we shall walk hand-in-hand through the maze of tables. Some might suggest that she was taking too much of a lead, but as a Texan had said, 'when she can shoot better than you, ride better than you, and fight better than you, you'd better call her a lady.'
Miss Houshou certainly fit that bill. I note the number of ship-girls, usually pairs or trios, scattered throughout the restaurant, not just for the large portions, but for the good quality. In the cab, I'd suggested to Miss Houshou to let her crew keep a lookout while she looked ahead. She'd given that charming laugh and thanked me for the suggestion. She spots the crowd and grips my hand very tightly. Stage fright, or she'd spotted her beau, who was with someone.
I lean over and tell her, "We own the place, or near enough."
She leans into me and we proceed to our table. I let the lookouts watch and film, as I ignore the squark and dropped tableware from Zuikaku's table, since it took her a bit to recognize 'mother' Houshou. Shokaku is now suddenly staring as well. Atlanta and Mogami had been enjoying their meals, when Atlanta recognizes us. Then Mogami gestures at Miss Houshou's hair adornments. We leave behind a frantic discussion between the two cruisers likely about the meaning of the flowers. Good stuff.
"Poor Musashi is alone," Houshou says, "Again."
"We could offer to let her join us," I suggest.
"I thought the Victorians frowned on that sort of thing," Miss Houshou says, another assay of craft, I hope her beau realizes what she was missing, or overlooking.
"The Regency was much more tolerant of such things," I reply breezily, enjoying the banter without it devolving into verbal kick and gouge.
"No," Miss Houshou says, "She's a bit, into her cups, is that correct?"
"Yes, regrettably," I say and hold the chair for Miss Houshou and take the spot opposite. We peruse the menus, and the wine list.
------------------------------
"Trouble," Ryuujou reported, as she looked up from her computer, "It's all over social media, and Hiei is incoming."
"Not a problem," Haida said not lowering her binoculars, "That's a pretty good wine list."
"How can an angry battlecruiser not be a problem?" Ryuujou asked.
"Since we don't have the Dennis, Raymond or Butler, I sent over Lupo, Armidale and Curtatone," Haida said as she lowered the binocs and picked up her celphone. "Right full rudder," she sent.
The sound of several long-tailed cats in a room full of rocking chairs split the night.
Ryuujou facepalmed. "Of course, Taffy 3 wouldn't think one battlecruiser is a problem."
------------------------------
I frown at the noise. "What children today call music," I say, then shrug, "But people keep playing that awful Elgar stuff at graduations."
"Music snob?" Houshou asks.
"Proudly so, ma'am," I say, "I can appreciate Sabaton, as well as Bach, but how anyone listens to some of the incoherent noise escapes me. And don't let me go on about Contemporary Classical. I heard some and thought I'd slipped a turbine bearing. If you want modern classics, John Williams, Jerry Goldsmith, James Horner and the list goes on."
Houshou smiles and looks up to our waiter arriving. I'd briefed the owner, so the poor, young woman was ready for our very unusual order.
------------------------------
"No," Shouhou said, staring into her phone, seeing what her spotters were seeing, "That's Washington and South Dakota."
"What?" Haida dropped her binoculars, the strap keeping them off the ground, she looked at Shouhou's phone, "I thought those two hated each other."
"They found something to bond over," Shouhou said, "The Taffies?"
"Still taking Hiei back to the baths," Shimakaze said, "I can go slow them down, poi."
The phone's audio had another answer. "Daijoubu!"
They stared as Haruna stepped into the open and cracked her knuckles. "Ching Lee isn't here to save you two this time," she said.
They heard the noise in the distance. Haida lowered her head. "The only ones who aren't going to be in the brig tomorrow are Howe and Houshou."
"Another fire extinguisher and some burn cream," she told Kirishima and Kongo, "I'll put them with the rest. Maybe we can donate them to a charity." She ignored the forlorn sighs from her sisters.
"I hope they're leaving Hiei alone," Haruna said to herself.
------------------------------
I'm decently clothed as Lupo, Armidale and Johnston enter the private bath.
"Is there a problem?" I ask, dreading that the enemy has managed a counterattack.
"Yes, but not a general quarters problem," Lupo says.
"More a dad-bote, gentleman problem," Johnston says, realizes what she said and covers her mouth.
" 'Dad-bote'?" I ask, rolling the word around in my mind. I knew certain ships were 'mom-botes' those the smaller or younger ships sought out for advice and comfort, I am guessing dad-bote is a variation.
Armidale pushes an unresisting Johnston out of the enclosure while Lupo continues, occasionally looking back and frowning after the departed Johnston, "There's a lady, a ship-girl, well she has her eye on someone, but she has no idea how to proceed. And after what you told Akatsuki, we realized, you could give her lessons."
"A lady would know," I say, "There's more to this, it isn't that she doesn't know, it's that she needs someone to start it, perhaps make her soon to be beau jealous?"
Lupo considers while Armidale returns alone. "Sort of, but not jealousy," the corvette says, "She's a bit too shy to take the first step." Armidale glances around. "In fact, we kinda fibbed and told her you were the shy one and needed the help."
I frown at that.
"She wouldn't do anything, unless it was to help another," Lupo says.
"I'm more worried you got her commitment, before securing mine," I say, "The poor . . . you knew that if you got hers I'd be less likely to refuse. I must remember that destroyers are ambush-predators." I stare at the nervously grinning schemers, "Very well, who's the bloke and what do you need?"
"Ah, OpSec," Lupo says nervously.
"Lupo," I say sternly, "I am well aware I'm in another time, and for ship-girls companionship, especially intimate companionship is hard to find. I am well aware of what Ooi and Kitakami do in private. If it's another ship-girl, I can completely understand. Oscar Wilde was rather blatant about it, so too several English Kings, the idea that women would find someone attractive that way is not an Eldritch Abomination that would send me down the screaming halls of insanity. I've seen the Twitter Shrines and hate-sites about me." I would not even mention Rule 34, or the Howe-goatsee site I stumbled across. And people think Abyssals are hard to imagine. God's Truth what has been seen cannot be unseen.
The pair are matching my shudders at what they might have seen on that stage of human depravity. Safe search only goes so far.
"It's a capital ship," Armidale says, "And we already did the research: restaurant, what she likes to do at night, everything. Destroyers are scouts too."
I nod. "I should be available in three days. Note, the corsage should be a yellow rose, not red. Very important."
They depart happily, and I'm left to wonder is this a joke on me, or the poor lady. Well, I shall ignore that and make certain she'll enjoy our time together. Lupo rushes back in, hands over a folder and rushes out. The plastic sleeved pages have a rather exhaustive dossier on the ship-girl, restaurants, activities, and the corsage red is crossed out and replaced with yellow rose.
I've been snookered, I have to remember they fought a war of many campaigns, while I've fought but a single battle.
------------------------------
Outside Armidale gave Johnston a fistbump. "I didn't think you could pull it off," Armidale admitted.
Johnston preened. "Give them one easy victory and they quit looking so hard."
Lupo nodded. "Now it's up to team two. I'm still not sure how she won."
"Just be glad it wasn't Musashi," Johnston said, "She was coming in second."
"How can Musashi be lonely?" Armidale asked and mimed Musashi's magnificent `magazines`.
"Sometimes a target is just too much," Lupo admitted, "So one never tries."
They nodded.
------------------------------
Curtatone, Akatsuki and Suzutsuki approached the apartment door and knocked.
They heard the 'coming' and they waited. The motherly figure smiled at them, and the unexpected poll victor was suddenly perfect.
"Miss Houshou, we have kind of a big favor to ask," Curtatone said, her hat in hand.
------------------------------
If kings had such power, I think as I scroll through the web browser on my smart phone, Orders to restaurants, airline tickets, and so many other choices. I selected the service, typed in the number and hit the checkout button.
A niggling thought had been troubling me, but with the transportation for the event taken care of, I need to check it. Language of flowers, I think as I type, If so much else has changed in a hundred years. Japanese Language of Flowers? Oh dear. Yellow rose, yellow rose. Well, it's apropos, but I think I need to change the order.
The repair ship Hitonose and two 'ship-doctors' arrive. "Reading up?" the repair ship asks.
"The world is very different," I say as they check the condition of my repairs. My own engineering teams tell me we are ahead of schedule, but the doctors will confirm or deny.
"I think you're up for a little physical therapy," Hitonose says, "How do you feel about a bit of a walk?"
"I actually was hoping to get one," I admit, "I have an appointment I felt I shouldn't leave to the last moment, and I'm old-fashioned enough to want to do it in person."
"Well, it's walk, so just walk," Hitonose tells me, "We'll check how that repair stands up to a bit of stress and strain. And that does not mean going onto the water."
"Dry land or bridges the whole way, understood," I say, "Although if there's an attack, or someone requires assistance, I'll risk your dressing down for participating."
"We beat the Truk Princess," one of the doctors says.
"Doctor, I'll bow to your medical expertise, but this injury came from squadrons of land-based bombers. And no naval aircraft could carry the Tarzon, only Superfortresses or Lancasters. With conventional bombloads, they could reach here from a wide variety of locations. For someone whose modus operandi was fight, and run away, I doubt they failed to instill that into their imp crews. Unless we knew the numbers of planes and accounted for all of them, some are still out there."
"Have you discussed this with the Admirals?" Hitonose asks.
"It was in a report I forwarded by email to the staff here, while we were in transit," I say, "I have since verified by phone that it was received and forwarded up the chain. One of the reasons the fleet hasn't been dispersed again I'd wager."
The doctors nod and make some notes themselves.
------------------------------
Houshou was going over the logistics requirements with Shouhou. Office space was at a premium, so they were working at a table in their apartment. The fleet hadn't expected to smash the Truk Princess in one grand battle, and then be stationed here in Port Moresby to search for escapees. They had the supplies to maintain the ship-girls, but they weren't positioned or packaged how they needed to be.
The knock on the door brought a welcome break from the concerns about where the resupply convoys were headed and in what order the ships would have to be unloaded to sustain the ship-girls and the base.
"Coming," Houshou said as she and Shouhou stood and stretched. She'd always admired the light carrier's lithe figure, but her dress sense needed work. She was not expecting HMS Howe to be standing on her doorstep.
"Ma'am," he said, "I know the destroyers previously worked this out, but I think this should go by the numbers."
Houshou nodded, remembering the destroyers had told her that they'd told him that she needed the dating practice.
"Would you do me the honor of going to dinner with me on Thursday night, at 1900 local time? The restaurant selected is Italian, so I'd recommend something that can be handily washed. Tomato stains easily."
Houshou ignored the stifled laugh of Shouhou. She had wondered about the girls talking about how dreamy he was. They left out how adorable he is, she thought, Like a 50,000 ton destroyer. No wonder the girls get so tongue-tied. Then he seemed embarrassed and it made him more adorable.
"I also have made a bit of a faux pas," he said, looked downcast, "Your corsage was to arrive tomorrow afternoon, please ignore it, I'll bring one with me. I hadn't realized the language of flowers would be so different between the English and the Japanese."
"What did you order?" Houshou asked and wanted to glance at Shouhou but thought better of it.
"A yellow rose, indicating friendship, I didn't want to impose further than that," he said as if he had committed some mortal sin.
"That sounds wonderful," she said.
He looked at her aghast. "But in Japanese it implies jealousy," he nearly stammered.
Then it's perfect, she thought.
"Are you English, or are you Japanese?" she asked and enjoyed his slightly lost expression.
I'm beginning to see the destroyers only thought they were fibbing to me, she thought.
"As you wish," he said, "I didn't want the wrong message sent."
"I suspect few have done the research you've done," Houshou said and kept her slight smile instead of the grin that was bubbling up inside her, "Or even understand it was anything but a flower."
He nodded. "Granted," he said then stood there for a bit, "Ma'am, do you agree or disagree?"
"Oh, I agree. I understand how you might be rusty at this, and ignore that the destroyers already arranged this."
He nodded. "Ah, quite."
They told him the same thing they told me, Houshou thought. She hid her smile and wondered what other surprises were in store.
He produced several sheets of paper and handed them over, they appeared to be a menu. "I don't know how familiar you are with Italian dishes," he said.
"Not very."
"Excellent, so I contacted the manager and the children's menu items are exactly the same as the adult portions. So I propose that we order five or so items from the children's menu each, and we each take a portion of each. Then if we find what we like, we can order an adult portion."
She wished she had a fan to hand to really sell the next. "Oh, don't you know how intimate sharing food is?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am," he said gravely, "So there would be spare plates we would actually eat from."
Aw, Houshou thought.
She grinned. "I look forward to it, shall I walk or call a car?"
"I've arranged for a proper cab for the night," he said, "They also have an excellent wine cellar. So we can both enjoy it."
She didn't tease him about the obvious possibilities of that.
"Then I'll see you on Thursday night," she stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. He was standing there a bit nonplused as she closed the door.
It wasn't until he'd left the hallway that she trusted herself or Shouhou to speak.
"I thought I'd blow a boiler and I wasn't even the one going on the date," the light carrier said.
"Yes, now, shall I get an easily cleaned kimono, or go against type?" Houshou said.
"If you're going to wear a yellow rose," Shouhou said, "Set every ship-girl drooling."
Houshou nodded her agreement.
------------------------------
It was X-Day, nearly H-Hour. Haida was packing up the communications array and the other supplies for her 'hide' while she coordinated observation and the radar pickets. The knock on the door surprised her a bit. Her `runner` Shimakaze raced over to open the door.
"Uh, hello?" she heard Poi-bote's confusion and looked up to see a determined Shouhou, a nervous looking Gambier Bay, a confused Taiyou, and their leader Ryuujou entering.
"Did you really think you could keep this from us?" Ryuujou said and bristled.
Shouhou frowned and covered Ryuujou's mouth. "We want to help," Shouhou said, "Some air cover and scouts could be useful."
"Welcome to Project Invidia," Haida said and extended a hand, which Shouhou shook.
------------------------------
Houshou looked at herself in the mirror again. She posed with the yellow short jacket held over her shoulder and saw the matching yellow capri pants, light blue top with the bared shoulders and the sweetheart neckline, the high ponytail and the understated makeup were all still perfect. She smirked at how stunned Shouhou had been about the choices, but Houshou knew that first, she wanted to look as different as possible, but he hadn't gotten used to seeing her a particular way, this was a bomb to drop on everyone else; second, they were going to be dealing with the realities of wine and tomato sauce, so nothing too expensive; three, she would never shake the 'Mother Houshou' personality and aura, so a young mother going out on the town with older finery was perfect. The fact that the pants and top still managed to show she still had her figure, but didn't flaunt it the way some ship-girls' outfits did was the balance she wanted to achieve. So what if it was last stylish in the 60's, she was as comfortable in it as she was in her flat pumps.
The knock on the door almost made her jump as she slipped into the jacket. Howe was there and as magnificent as ever. The polo shirt he wore was the same beautiful blue as his eyes, the creme khaki pants and brown deck shoes completed the picture, but the jumper tied around his neck as a pseudo-ascot made him look like a fashion plate from the 1980's.
Howe glanced down at his outfit as she stifled a giggle. "White tie and tails, and marinara sauce don't go together, ma'am," he said.
"I was thinking I look like a throwback to the 60's, now you look like a throwback to the 80's, it's perfect," Houshou said.
"Not quite ma'am," he said and gestured to the corsage she wore at her breast, he produced a second from behind his back, "If I may be so bold, let's run the flags up both sets of yardarms."
She laughed and nodded. He carefully fitted the second corsage in her hair, pinning it there securely. Then froze as Houshou leaned forward for him to remove the first. "I don't bite," she told him and grinned.
"How disappointing," he replied, as he carefully unpinned the flower and transferred it to her hair on the opposite side.
He offered his arm. She carefully took his wrist and pulled it down to his side, then clasped her hand in his, and was glad he smiled at that.
"Your carriage awaits," Howe said as they headed down the corridor to the stairs. He blocked her view through the window rather adroitly as they descended the stairs, and looked inordinately pleased with himself.
As they left the building, she saw why. She released his hand and raced ahead to pet the horse who nuzzled her carefully. "You really meant carriage."
"Of course, SarMajor Runiki can serve as driver and guide," Howe said of the Papuan in the top hat and tails, and shorts in the tropical heat.
Houshou giggled again. "The repair baths are going to be full of engineering casualties," she said, accepting his hand to help her into the hansom cab, then braced and offered her hand to him, which he took.
"My plan is offer no quarter," Howe said, "There are blankets under the seats." He showed her.
"How daring. And a football?" Houshou asked.
"Ah mine, sorry," their driver said, both Howe and Houshou waved him off.
"As long as it's Australian rules," Howe said, "We'll be fine."
"Just remember, it's only the ball you can't touch with your hands," Houshou said, and enjoyed Howe's slight blush. Then she grinned and fluttered as he ran the leather upper of his deck shoe up her bare calf.
He whispered, "I do know how the game is played."
She grinned and leaned against him.
------------------------------
Haida looked down at the two fallen carriers, she could almost see the smiling Houshous circling over their heads. "Light carriers," she said as she packed her binoculars and prepared to move to the second position. A quick check with Heerman verified they were in position.
------------------------------
I help Miss Houshou down from the cab. The SarMajor moves to `park` our ride, at my request, in a place it could be easily seen from the restaurant's interior. If we were there to make her beau jealous, jealousy would be had in abundance.
The place is large, and doing good business, but we have a reservation, so we shall walk hand-in-hand through the maze of tables. Some might suggest that she was taking too much of a lead, but as a Texan had said, 'when she can shoot better than you, ride better than you, and fight better than you, you'd better call her a lady.'
Miss Houshou certainly fit that bill. I note the number of ship-girls, usually pairs or trios, scattered throughout the restaurant, not just for the large portions, but for the good quality. In the cab, I'd suggested to Miss Houshou to let her crew keep a lookout while she looked ahead. She'd given that charming laugh and thanked me for the suggestion. She spots the crowd and grips my hand very tightly. Stage fright, or she'd spotted her beau, who was with someone.
I lean over and tell her, "We own the place, or near enough."
She leans into me and we proceed to our table. I let the lookouts watch and film, as I ignore the squark and dropped tableware from Zuikaku's table, since it took her a bit to recognize 'mother' Houshou. Shokaku is now suddenly staring as well. Atlanta and Mogami had been enjoying their meals, when Atlanta recognizes us. Then Mogami gestures at Miss Houshou's hair adornments. We leave behind a frantic discussion between the two cruisers likely about the meaning of the flowers. Good stuff.
"Poor Musashi is alone," Houshou says, "Again."
"We could offer to let her join us," I suggest.
"I thought the Victorians frowned on that sort of thing," Miss Houshou says, another assay of craft, I hope her beau realizes what she was missing, or overlooking.
"The Regency was much more tolerant of such things," I reply breezily, enjoying the banter without it devolving into verbal kick and gouge.
"No," Miss Houshou says, "She's a bit, into her cups, is that correct?"
"Yes, regrettably," I say and hold the chair for Miss Houshou and take the spot opposite. We peruse the menus, and the wine list.
------------------------------
"Trouble," Ryuujou reported, as she looked up from her computer, "It's all over social media, and Hiei is incoming."
"Not a problem," Haida said not lowering her binoculars, "That's a pretty good wine list."
"How can an angry battlecruiser not be a problem?" Ryuujou asked.
"Since we don't have the Dennis, Raymond or Butler, I sent over Lupo, Armidale and Curtatone," Haida said as she lowered the binocs and picked up her celphone. "Right full rudder," she sent.
The sound of several long-tailed cats in a room full of rocking chairs split the night.
Ryuujou facepalmed. "Of course, Taffy 3 wouldn't think one battlecruiser is a problem."
------------------------------
I frown at the noise. "What children today call music," I say, then shrug, "But people keep playing that awful Elgar stuff at graduations."
"Music snob?" Houshou asks.
"Proudly so, ma'am," I say, "I can appreciate Sabaton, as well as Bach, but how anyone listens to some of the incoherent noise escapes me. And don't let me go on about Contemporary Classical. I heard some and thought I'd slipped a turbine bearing. If you want modern classics, John Williams, Jerry Goldsmith, James Horner and the list goes on."
Houshou smiles and looks up to our waiter arriving. I'd briefed the owner, so the poor, young woman was ready for our very unusual order.
------------------------------
"No," Shouhou said, staring into her phone, seeing what her spotters were seeing, "That's Washington and South Dakota."
"What?" Haida dropped her binoculars, the strap keeping them off the ground, she looked at Shouhou's phone, "I thought those two hated each other."
"They found something to bond over," Shouhou said, "The Taffies?"
"Still taking Hiei back to the baths," Shimakaze said, "I can go slow them down, poi."
The phone's audio had another answer. "Daijoubu!"
They stared as Haruna stepped into the open and cracked her knuckles. "Ching Lee isn't here to save you two this time," she said.
They heard the noise in the distance. Haida lowered her head. "The only ones who aren't going to be in the brig tomorrow are Howe and Houshou."
Potato
Randomly exploding
- Location
- Singapore
I suppose in naval terms this is the equivalent of a stealth jet launching an anti-ship missile and you've only just detected it?
Only if the anti-ship missiles popped pirate flags and screamed in shouting ARRRRR!I suppose in naval terms this is the equivalent of a stealth jet launching an anti-ship missile and you've only just detected it?
The Destroyer's Campaign: The Price of Victory
"So the Amaryllis?" Miss Houshou asks.
"In Japanese: Shy, in English: Pride," I tell her as I enjoy the ravioli and she eats the lasagna with tiny meatballs, the plates of our samplers finished and cleared away.
"The Edelweiss?"
"In Japanese: Courage or Power, in English . . . I don't actually know," I admit.
"The big one, the Chrysanthemum?" she asks and takes a sip of wine, "I'll trade you a bit of lasagna for a ravioli."
"Done," I transfer a bit to her plate while I think. "The yellow is the Imperial symbol, white as Truth, while in English they are slighted love, and truth."
"Amazing, one matches," Miss Houshou says as she passes over a portion of lasagna.
"Perhaps due to the source," I say, "I am not dragging out my phone to verify."
"Please don't," Miss Houshou says, "I swear some people live in those."
"Terribly ungentlemanly of me, but a group of officers were worshiping at the altar of Apple, and one of them was headed towards a tree, and despite eight of them vaguely talking to each other, no warning the victim, I watched one walk straight into the tree." I chuckle, and Miss Houshou joins in.
"You're awful, but I sometimes think they deserve it," Miss Houshou says, "So what about the Red Camellia, even I know it means perishing with grace."
------------------------------
Taiyou wanted to bang her head on a post. She watched Haida climb back into the hide, she was moving more carefully after her fight with Chikuma, which she'd won.
"Problems?" Haida asked as she checked the media feed on the date, and the huge number of photos, Tweets and other posts about it.
"They're just talking about flowers," Taiyou said, "For ten minutes, just about, urk."
Haida had grabbed Taiyou's head and rotated it to face her. There was a sublime madness burning there, and a reminder to the light carrier that not only was the Tribal-class designed to kill large, enemy destroyers, this one had single-handedly sent a heavy cruiser packing. "They're. Still. Talking," Haida said, with none of the passion in her eyes reaching her voice.
Taiyou just nodded and felt the iron grip release. She returned to watching the dinner through the big eye binoculars.
------------------------------
Bismarck accepted Prinz Eugen from Dorsetshire and Sheffield, lowering the cruiser into a comfortable sitting position in the repair bath. A short distance away, Duke of York and Scharnhorst lowered Tirpitz into the bath. She at least was able to get herself seated.
"How is Prince of Wales?" Bismarck asked.
"I think the shattered pedestal hurts worse than the injuries," Dorsetshire said. "Atlanta and Mogami came from the restaurant, they helped with Suffolk and Norfolk, those two are in the baths with Wales as well. Wait one."
Dorsetshire stared off into space. Bismarck was also getting a telex from Haruna, the important part was to turn themselves into the MPs and let Haruna do the talking. The rest was the weirdest operational order Bismarck had ever seen.
"And I thought the Channel Dash was strange," Scharnhorst said.
"If she's going to accept responsibility for this brawl, when she wasn't even there," Bismarck said, "I'll let her."
"Are you in any shape to go to the MPs?" Duke of York asked.
"Better to give them my head than Prinz's or Tirpitz's," Bismarck said as she arranged the pair into each others arms, then climbed out of the bath. She glanced over to where Hood lay alone in her bath. Bismarck glanced over at a tense Duke of York and Scharnhorst. "If you two are working together, I'm at least sane enough to listen, I would like the escort though."
"Granted," Duke said, "The destroyers are assembling and posting themselves around the bath. A reflash watch would be a polite way of putting it."
"I don't envy Wash or Dakota when the Iowas get here," Scharnhorst said, "I think they'll take turns tearing strips off the pair."
"How did Haruna beat both of them?" Bismarck asked, "At the same time?"
"To quote that worthy," Sheffield said, " 'I know Kung Fu.'"
Bismarck laughed, then hissed at the stitch in her side.
------------------------------
They'd loaded Musashi into the cab, and let the Sergeant Major take the softly snoring battleship back to her dorm. The night was warm so they walked along the running trail.
They were hand in hand again, and Houshou was enjoying the feeling of being with someone, when it wasn't business. Either as a hostess or a teacher.
"If I may be so bold, did it work?" Howe asked quietly.
My rival, she thought and shook her head. She moved his arm to drape it over her shoulders. "I think they were the only two who didn't notice us."
He'd taken the hint, and hugged her gently as they walked. "I'm sorry," he said. Not taking the blame, but sympathizing.
"It was an outside chance," she turned to him and smiled, "Thank you for a lovely evening."
"You're welcome. It does leave open something I was hoping to ask," Howe said, seemingly catching her feigned melancholy, but his was real. "I know you're often considered a mom-bote to the carriers, several destroyers recently revealed they consider me their dad-bote."
He stopped as she did.
"Shouldn't we live together before discussing children?" she asked and saw him grin, but it was brief, she knew not to tease him further on this.
"It's just that. I know this date was not what it was sold as, and I don't really care. You enjoyed it, I enjoyed it, we kept Musashi from some embarrassment, so it's all to the good," he said, disturbed by what he was about to admit, "But, despite how young they look, most are seasoned campaigners. I have Wickes and Kamikaze classes who were laid down before I was, and served through both wars, looking to me as a font of wisdom, when I have all of one battle under my belt. I feel a fraud, or I guide them through to discover the truth themselves. I am not sure how helpful I am."
Houshou hugged him. "At least you have them. Mine all grew up, and as complicated and fast as carriers and air-operations have become, I can't keep up. I feel I've lost them. I'm good for basic training, but not the tip of the spear. I'm honored, respected, but I'm a legacy prestigious for the past, but nothing new to add to my accomplishments."
"The pedestal is confining, rather than exalting," Howe said, "I would appreciate your help with the destroyers. I have a lot to learn, and it's always good to know the basics of other ships' operations."
She snuggled against him, enjoying his arms around her. "Very well, but I want to learn about that cannon you had made. My antiair is not good, and I'd feel I'd let down the side if I couldn't learn something new."
He held her at arm's-length looking this way and that. "Where would you get the steel, you look perfect from every angle?"
She smirked at him. "Flattery will get you everywhere," she said, "I still have my chain lockers, a few plates of armor I could spare. But I also need your contacts at H&H. There are manufacturers in Japan, but not many for custom shotguns, and H&H proved they could make the upgrade gun, I'd rather stay with their process than experiment."
"Of course," he said, "But a gun is very different from a bow."
"Then you can also teach me the English longbow."
He laughed nervously. "I'd have to learn it myself. My namesake was active during the Seven-Years-War. There were few bows in use even in the early 18th century," Howe admitted. He started walking again, drawing Houshou with him. She stayed nestled against him.
"What do you plan to do when the war is over?" she asked.
"I don't really know. I'm a dilettante, studying things from dozens of disciplines. The Renaissance man doesn't seem popular in this age of specialization. But I have the advantage of a crew of thousands. I can have them read or study something and I start to know it as well," Howe said.
"That's something I need to try. I can imagine what it would look like if I became a jet mechanic," Houshou said.
"Gas turbines aren't that different from steam turbines," he said, "But it's the electronics that would be the biggest hurdle."
They turned at the approaching clip-clop of the Sergeant Major and his hansom cab.
"I think that's our signal to head home. I have a feeling tomorrow may be busy for all three of us, and even if you and I can ignore sleep, the Sergeant-Major needs his beauty sleep," Houshou said.
"So no rugby in the park lit only by the stars," Howe said, proving he could puppy-dog eyes as well as a destroyer.
"No," Houshou said and laughed.
They climbed back into the cab, Houshou pulled out one of the blankets and wrapped it around the both of them and snuggled against him. Neither of them needed the warmth, but it still gave a nice feeling of intimacy as friends. Neither, seemed to want to push the boundaries that night, but both knew there would be others.
When they arrived back at the carrier dorms, he dismounted and waited to help Houshou down. She took brief advantage of the equalization of their heights and kissed him on the lips. "Once we're back in Japan, I'll see you with the destroyers," Houshou told him.
He smiled and nodded.
Houshou barely remembered the walk back to her apartment. I could have floated up here, she thought as she opened the door, It really was a good, peaceful night.
She hadn't expected Shouhou to be up this late. She really didn't expect the carrier to be sporting a black eye. "What happened?"
"The Denmark Strait was a fluke," Shouhou said, "How was the date?"
"Never mind that, what happened," Houshou said and rushed over to check on her roommate.
"Oh no," Shouhou said and pointed to the shiner, "You don't get to 'mother Houshou' me and ignore the question." The carrier frowned. "I want to know the black eye was worth it."
" 'Worth it,' what's going on?" Houshou asked.
"Tell me if you enjoyed the date, and if there's another, or I'll just go to bed and let you stew," Shouhou said. The behavior so uncharacteristic that Houshou began to worry if the black eye was a sign of other problems.
"It was fine, a bit old fashioned, we talked, and he asked for help being dad-bote to the destroyers," Houshou said and her expression hardened, "Now who did that and why?"
"HMS Hood, and so your date would be undisturbed. Destroyers screen for carriers and battleships, and light carriers provide cover for destroyers," Shouhou said, "There were several ship-girls who objected to your date, some because they thought it should be them instead of you." Shouhou took a breath, gathering her courage or controlling her anger. "And Hood who did not think you two should be dating at all."
"Hood isn't on base," Houshou said.
"She flew in while you were at the sampling stage," Shouhou said, she practically collapsed into a chair, "Yes, we were spying on you, in case someone in the restaurant objected. We figured Hiei would make her presence known, Dakota and Washington were unexpected, Chikuma was a disappointment, Tone, Suzuya and Kumano we at least talked down." Shouhou offered a smile. "They offered to be 'your mistresses', yes, both."
Houshou looked at her with horror. "What about Hood?"
"Prince of Wales and Norfolk went to talk with her, they weren't happy so they asked Suffolk, Bismarck, Tirpitz and Prinz Eugen to be ready if the 'conversation became spirited', British understatement," Shouhou said, "Frankly, with a task force that size, I went to support and call in reinforcements as necessary." Shouhou looked up to stare at Houshou. "Those were Sheffield, Dorsetshire, Duke of York, Jamaica and Scharnhorst."
" 'Duke of York, Jamaica and Scharnhorst'?" Houshou said, unable to keep the horror from her voice.
Shouhou nodded. "I don't know if you should steer clear of him for a few days, or give him a lot of hugs, because while Hiei, Kirishima and Kongo were mercilessly pranking him, none of them put any destroyers in the baths."
"I think it's time to see the truth of the little Kipling poem he joked about under the stars, 'Twas the women, not the warriors, turned those stark enthusiasts pale - For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.'," Houshou said.
"Tomorrow, or later today," Shouhou said, "Get some rest, and understand this. We all sacrificed so you two could have a good time. You are no more ignored and cast aside than he is."
Houshou frowned, but wasn't willing to force the issue.
------------------------------
I was feeling very good about things. Until I find that two-thirds of the destroyers are out after their curfew. There are some who I know are on radar picket duty, but not the numbers missing from the dorms. I race through the dorms trying to assess the numbers and if anyone knows what happened. I'm left with the problem of either involving the MPs and getting the kids in trouble, or finding them myself.
The decision is made by realizing they could be in worse trouble than a scolding by their officers could ever be. After all, I think, It would take a battlefleet to pin down that many destroyers.
I quickly jog over to the cruiser dorms to find Tenryuu and Tatsuta are also out after lights out. Now I'm worried. A celphone call to the MPs is the next order of the night.
"This is HMS Howe, I need to speak with the Officer of the Deck," I say, "He's busy with arrests?" I sigh. "I'll be over there shortly."
The walk to the main MP station is not a fun experience. I can almost imagine what the destroyers did to get so many of them arrested.
------------------------------
Haruna stepped up to the Captain who'd arrived to help with the processing. "Why are the people participating in the exercise to be arrested?" she asked politely.
"We have a half-dozen brawls across the town near the base, what 'exercise'?" the captain asked.
Haruna set down the page with the neat lines of kanji characters. "I have a translation if you need it." She set down a typed page in English. It detailed Operation Dishonored Dead, a counterforce against landed Abyssals. Referred to lists of the 'targets', those playing 'Abyssals' and the 'defenders'. The basic rules of engagement to prevent the Abyssals from even coming into line of sight with the targets. And at the bottom, strict instructions to memorize the rosters, and then destroy all but the cover page.
The captain looked up at Haruna. "We'll need to verify your translation."
"Of course," Haruna said.
"Was this transmitted by radio, fax, email?" the captain asked.
"Secure email, I still have it, I deleted the attachment, but I checked the encryption," Haruna said and gestured to her phone.
The captain slid it over to her.
She worked a bit, and set the phone down so he could read it. The kanji was unreadable, but the Goto.Yokosuka address with the security prefix was in Romanji.
"You have to be in ship-girl command to even get on the server, and that is Admiral Goto's address," Haruna said and smiled.
The captain moved the cursor over the address and turned the phone to Haruna. "What does that say at the bottom?"
Haruna's face fell as she looked. "Kongo.Yokosuka," Haruna said, "I thought you couldn't spoof addresses in that system." She stood up straight. "I will accept any punishment for the events of last night. I was the one who distributed the orders, I urged the others to participate. They all thought they were following lawful orders. The blame is mine alone."
The captain turned the phone off and handed it back to her. "Fortunately, no civilians were injured, no major property damage occurred, and no one was killed. I will forward my recommendation that Admiral Goto handle the disciplinary actions from this event when you and the others return to Yokosuka, dismissed."
Haruna saluted, dropped it, turned and left. The captain turned to her adjutant, and the stenographer who'd been recording everything said also left.
Once the door was closed her adjutant spoke. "It was all bullshit and you know it."
"Yes, but the plan and the RoE are actually pretty useful, and with some of the Truk Abyssals missing, it's not a bad exercise. We'll admit to our political masters that we were not ready to repel a landing without the use of naval artillery in street fighting, and that running the operation at night was a bridge too far. We'll put together a new ops plan, get the civilian forces involved and run it in broad daylight."
"Get them to quit complaining about rampaging ship-girls by getting them worried about rampaging Abyssals, risky," the junior officer said.
"It puts this behind us, and gets them thinking about other things. I frankly want all these ship-girls off New Guinea," the captain said, "Do you know why the brawls happened?"
"All of them showed translations of the exercise cover sheet," the adjutant said, "They fight hard, they play hard."
"Let them play somewhere else," the captain said and gave orders that those slightly hurt could sleep it off in the brigs, all others could be released to appropriate officers.
------------------------------
I've got all but a few of the walking wounded. The light carriers and destroyers all are looking at me with real fear. Dad-bote was pissed off, and pissed off at them. I'd ordered them to remain silent until we could debrief. We had assembled in the MPs auditorium/press briefing room and I'd gotten Houshou on the speakerphone and the videolink. A huge image of Houshou glowered at them over my shoulder. Now dad-bote and mom-bote were going to give them a raking over the coals. I'd seen them under fire and they didn't look this terrified.
"Division leaders, forward," I order.
That reduces the number of terrified ship-girls from over seventy to less than a dozen. The others now have to hope their spokes-ships can talk them out of this. They are braced for a dressing down, ready for any punishment I can throw at them. But when the opponent is ready for one pitch, give them another. Besides, how could I punish them for protecting the date?
------------------------------
Houshou watched Howe's shoulders slump, and his voice sounded so defeated.
"I thought I'd gained enough trust that you could come to me with problems," Howe said, "It seems I failed you in that regard."
If she hadn't had to school her features to look as heartsick and crushed as Howe, she would have laughed at the absolute horror on every face in the auditorium. 'Shoot us, cut off our fingers, ban ice cream but don't say we hurt dad- & mom-bote!' she saw on the carriers and destroyers assembled.
"We have a dozen battleships and cruisers in the repair baths, with not an enemy in sight," Howe said and sighed, "How have I failed you?" The terrified destroyers and light carriers looked at each other desperately.
Johnston, bless her fiery heart stood up. "We all failed."
"Johnston!" Heerman warned.
"Shut up!" Johnston said to her screen commander, "We all failed, but until the exercise, we did not know what we did not know. Without torpedoes and gunfire, defeating a ship-girl or an Abyssal was more difficult than we expected. The only failure is highlighted in Haruna's success. She defeated two battleships, and they will be out of the baths later this morning. She knows Kung Fu. Our training does not include hand-to-hand combat that precludes lethal force."
Taiyou took up the thread. "We need training, sir," the badly bruised light carrier said, "This may also be needed when we are out with civilians. Evading or defeating enemies with a minimum of injury. Aikido is ideal for this, I'd recommend training in these techniques as soon as possible. For all ships."
"It will mean giving up your off time," Howe said.
"We'll do it, sir," Fletcher said.
"Anything else we'll need?" Howe asked.
"Not at this time, sir," Haida said, "Perhaps after we've slept on it. But I agree, the Royal Marines have trainers available."
Howe nodded. "All right. We'll return to quarters. Houshou, can you ask Haruna and Musashi to come to practice. I think we'll also need some basic boxing as well."
"I'll take care of it," Houshou said.
"Very well, attention!" Howe said, and all of them snapped to attention, "Division leaders, attend to your divisions, fall out and proceed to quarters immediately."
The assembled broke up and didn't quite run from the room as Howe cut the link. Houshou sagged into her chair. "For us," she said quietly and the burden of being THE mom-bote descended on her. She headed to bed to rest up, it promised to be a busy few days.
"In Japanese: Shy, in English: Pride," I tell her as I enjoy the ravioli and she eats the lasagna with tiny meatballs, the plates of our samplers finished and cleared away.
"The Edelweiss?"
"In Japanese: Courage or Power, in English . . . I don't actually know," I admit.
"The big one, the Chrysanthemum?" she asks and takes a sip of wine, "I'll trade you a bit of lasagna for a ravioli."
"Done," I transfer a bit to her plate while I think. "The yellow is the Imperial symbol, white as Truth, while in English they are slighted love, and truth."
"Amazing, one matches," Miss Houshou says as she passes over a portion of lasagna.
"Perhaps due to the source," I say, "I am not dragging out my phone to verify."
"Please don't," Miss Houshou says, "I swear some people live in those."
"Terribly ungentlemanly of me, but a group of officers were worshiping at the altar of Apple, and one of them was headed towards a tree, and despite eight of them vaguely talking to each other, no warning the victim, I watched one walk straight into the tree." I chuckle, and Miss Houshou joins in.
"You're awful, but I sometimes think they deserve it," Miss Houshou says, "So what about the Red Camellia, even I know it means perishing with grace."
------------------------------
Taiyou wanted to bang her head on a post. She watched Haida climb back into the hide, she was moving more carefully after her fight with Chikuma, which she'd won.
"Problems?" Haida asked as she checked the media feed on the date, and the huge number of photos, Tweets and other posts about it.
"They're just talking about flowers," Taiyou said, "For ten minutes, just about, urk."
Haida had grabbed Taiyou's head and rotated it to face her. There was a sublime madness burning there, and a reminder to the light carrier that not only was the Tribal-class designed to kill large, enemy destroyers, this one had single-handedly sent a heavy cruiser packing. "They're. Still. Talking," Haida said, with none of the passion in her eyes reaching her voice.
Taiyou just nodded and felt the iron grip release. She returned to watching the dinner through the big eye binoculars.
------------------------------
Bismarck accepted Prinz Eugen from Dorsetshire and Sheffield, lowering the cruiser into a comfortable sitting position in the repair bath. A short distance away, Duke of York and Scharnhorst lowered Tirpitz into the bath. She at least was able to get herself seated.
"How is Prince of Wales?" Bismarck asked.
"I think the shattered pedestal hurts worse than the injuries," Dorsetshire said. "Atlanta and Mogami came from the restaurant, they helped with Suffolk and Norfolk, those two are in the baths with Wales as well. Wait one."
Dorsetshire stared off into space. Bismarck was also getting a telex from Haruna, the important part was to turn themselves into the MPs and let Haruna do the talking. The rest was the weirdest operational order Bismarck had ever seen.
"And I thought the Channel Dash was strange," Scharnhorst said.
"If she's going to accept responsibility for this brawl, when she wasn't even there," Bismarck said, "I'll let her."
"Are you in any shape to go to the MPs?" Duke of York asked.
"Better to give them my head than Prinz's or Tirpitz's," Bismarck said as she arranged the pair into each others arms, then climbed out of the bath. She glanced over to where Hood lay alone in her bath. Bismarck glanced over at a tense Duke of York and Scharnhorst. "If you two are working together, I'm at least sane enough to listen, I would like the escort though."
"Granted," Duke said, "The destroyers are assembling and posting themselves around the bath. A reflash watch would be a polite way of putting it."
"I don't envy Wash or Dakota when the Iowas get here," Scharnhorst said, "I think they'll take turns tearing strips off the pair."
"How did Haruna beat both of them?" Bismarck asked, "At the same time?"
"To quote that worthy," Sheffield said, " 'I know Kung Fu.'"
Bismarck laughed, then hissed at the stitch in her side.
------------------------------
They'd loaded Musashi into the cab, and let the Sergeant Major take the softly snoring battleship back to her dorm. The night was warm so they walked along the running trail.
They were hand in hand again, and Houshou was enjoying the feeling of being with someone, when it wasn't business. Either as a hostess or a teacher.
"If I may be so bold, did it work?" Howe asked quietly.
My rival, she thought and shook her head. She moved his arm to drape it over her shoulders. "I think they were the only two who didn't notice us."
He'd taken the hint, and hugged her gently as they walked. "I'm sorry," he said. Not taking the blame, but sympathizing.
"It was an outside chance," she turned to him and smiled, "Thank you for a lovely evening."
"You're welcome. It does leave open something I was hoping to ask," Howe said, seemingly catching her feigned melancholy, but his was real. "I know you're often considered a mom-bote to the carriers, several destroyers recently revealed they consider me their dad-bote."
He stopped as she did.
"Shouldn't we live together before discussing children?" she asked and saw him grin, but it was brief, she knew not to tease him further on this.
"It's just that. I know this date was not what it was sold as, and I don't really care. You enjoyed it, I enjoyed it, we kept Musashi from some embarrassment, so it's all to the good," he said, disturbed by what he was about to admit, "But, despite how young they look, most are seasoned campaigners. I have Wickes and Kamikaze classes who were laid down before I was, and served through both wars, looking to me as a font of wisdom, when I have all of one battle under my belt. I feel a fraud, or I guide them through to discover the truth themselves. I am not sure how helpful I am."
Houshou hugged him. "At least you have them. Mine all grew up, and as complicated and fast as carriers and air-operations have become, I can't keep up. I feel I've lost them. I'm good for basic training, but not the tip of the spear. I'm honored, respected, but I'm a legacy prestigious for the past, but nothing new to add to my accomplishments."
"The pedestal is confining, rather than exalting," Howe said, "I would appreciate your help with the destroyers. I have a lot to learn, and it's always good to know the basics of other ships' operations."
She snuggled against him, enjoying his arms around her. "Very well, but I want to learn about that cannon you had made. My antiair is not good, and I'd feel I'd let down the side if I couldn't learn something new."
He held her at arm's-length looking this way and that. "Where would you get the steel, you look perfect from every angle?"
She smirked at him. "Flattery will get you everywhere," she said, "I still have my chain lockers, a few plates of armor I could spare. But I also need your contacts at H&H. There are manufacturers in Japan, but not many for custom shotguns, and H&H proved they could make the upgrade gun, I'd rather stay with their process than experiment."
"Of course," he said, "But a gun is very different from a bow."
"Then you can also teach me the English longbow."
He laughed nervously. "I'd have to learn it myself. My namesake was active during the Seven-Years-War. There were few bows in use even in the early 18th century," Howe admitted. He started walking again, drawing Houshou with him. She stayed nestled against him.
"What do you plan to do when the war is over?" she asked.
"I don't really know. I'm a dilettante, studying things from dozens of disciplines. The Renaissance man doesn't seem popular in this age of specialization. But I have the advantage of a crew of thousands. I can have them read or study something and I start to know it as well," Howe said.
"That's something I need to try. I can imagine what it would look like if I became a jet mechanic," Houshou said.
"Gas turbines aren't that different from steam turbines," he said, "But it's the electronics that would be the biggest hurdle."
They turned at the approaching clip-clop of the Sergeant Major and his hansom cab.
"I think that's our signal to head home. I have a feeling tomorrow may be busy for all three of us, and even if you and I can ignore sleep, the Sergeant-Major needs his beauty sleep," Houshou said.
"So no rugby in the park lit only by the stars," Howe said, proving he could puppy-dog eyes as well as a destroyer.
"No," Houshou said and laughed.
They climbed back into the cab, Houshou pulled out one of the blankets and wrapped it around the both of them and snuggled against him. Neither of them needed the warmth, but it still gave a nice feeling of intimacy as friends. Neither, seemed to want to push the boundaries that night, but both knew there would be others.
When they arrived back at the carrier dorms, he dismounted and waited to help Houshou down. She took brief advantage of the equalization of their heights and kissed him on the lips. "Once we're back in Japan, I'll see you with the destroyers," Houshou told him.
He smiled and nodded.
Houshou barely remembered the walk back to her apartment. I could have floated up here, she thought as she opened the door, It really was a good, peaceful night.
She hadn't expected Shouhou to be up this late. She really didn't expect the carrier to be sporting a black eye. "What happened?"
"The Denmark Strait was a fluke," Shouhou said, "How was the date?"
"Never mind that, what happened," Houshou said and rushed over to check on her roommate.
"Oh no," Shouhou said and pointed to the shiner, "You don't get to 'mother Houshou' me and ignore the question." The carrier frowned. "I want to know the black eye was worth it."
" 'Worth it,' what's going on?" Houshou asked.
"Tell me if you enjoyed the date, and if there's another, or I'll just go to bed and let you stew," Shouhou said. The behavior so uncharacteristic that Houshou began to worry if the black eye was a sign of other problems.
"It was fine, a bit old fashioned, we talked, and he asked for help being dad-bote to the destroyers," Houshou said and her expression hardened, "Now who did that and why?"
"HMS Hood, and so your date would be undisturbed. Destroyers screen for carriers and battleships, and light carriers provide cover for destroyers," Shouhou said, "There were several ship-girls who objected to your date, some because they thought it should be them instead of you." Shouhou took a breath, gathering her courage or controlling her anger. "And Hood who did not think you two should be dating at all."
"Hood isn't on base," Houshou said.
"She flew in while you were at the sampling stage," Shouhou said, she practically collapsed into a chair, "Yes, we were spying on you, in case someone in the restaurant objected. We figured Hiei would make her presence known, Dakota and Washington were unexpected, Chikuma was a disappointment, Tone, Suzuya and Kumano we at least talked down." Shouhou offered a smile. "They offered to be 'your mistresses', yes, both."
Houshou looked at her with horror. "What about Hood?"
"Prince of Wales and Norfolk went to talk with her, they weren't happy so they asked Suffolk, Bismarck, Tirpitz and Prinz Eugen to be ready if the 'conversation became spirited', British understatement," Shouhou said, "Frankly, with a task force that size, I went to support and call in reinforcements as necessary." Shouhou looked up to stare at Houshou. "Those were Sheffield, Dorsetshire, Duke of York, Jamaica and Scharnhorst."
" 'Duke of York, Jamaica and Scharnhorst'?" Houshou said, unable to keep the horror from her voice.
Shouhou nodded. "I don't know if you should steer clear of him for a few days, or give him a lot of hugs, because while Hiei, Kirishima and Kongo were mercilessly pranking him, none of them put any destroyers in the baths."
"I think it's time to see the truth of the little Kipling poem he joked about under the stars, 'Twas the women, not the warriors, turned those stark enthusiasts pale - For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.'," Houshou said.
"Tomorrow, or later today," Shouhou said, "Get some rest, and understand this. We all sacrificed so you two could have a good time. You are no more ignored and cast aside than he is."
Houshou frowned, but wasn't willing to force the issue.
------------------------------
I was feeling very good about things. Until I find that two-thirds of the destroyers are out after their curfew. There are some who I know are on radar picket duty, but not the numbers missing from the dorms. I race through the dorms trying to assess the numbers and if anyone knows what happened. I'm left with the problem of either involving the MPs and getting the kids in trouble, or finding them myself.
The decision is made by realizing they could be in worse trouble than a scolding by their officers could ever be. After all, I think, It would take a battlefleet to pin down that many destroyers.
I quickly jog over to the cruiser dorms to find Tenryuu and Tatsuta are also out after lights out. Now I'm worried. A celphone call to the MPs is the next order of the night.
"This is HMS Howe, I need to speak with the Officer of the Deck," I say, "He's busy with arrests?" I sigh. "I'll be over there shortly."
The walk to the main MP station is not a fun experience. I can almost imagine what the destroyers did to get so many of them arrested.
------------------------------
Haruna stepped up to the Captain who'd arrived to help with the processing. "Why are the people participating in the exercise to be arrested?" she asked politely.
"We have a half-dozen brawls across the town near the base, what 'exercise'?" the captain asked.
Haruna set down the page with the neat lines of kanji characters. "I have a translation if you need it." She set down a typed page in English. It detailed Operation Dishonored Dead, a counterforce against landed Abyssals. Referred to lists of the 'targets', those playing 'Abyssals' and the 'defenders'. The basic rules of engagement to prevent the Abyssals from even coming into line of sight with the targets. And at the bottom, strict instructions to memorize the rosters, and then destroy all but the cover page.
The captain looked up at Haruna. "We'll need to verify your translation."
"Of course," Haruna said.
"Was this transmitted by radio, fax, email?" the captain asked.
"Secure email, I still have it, I deleted the attachment, but I checked the encryption," Haruna said and gestured to her phone.
The captain slid it over to her.
She worked a bit, and set the phone down so he could read it. The kanji was unreadable, but the Goto.Yokosuka address with the security prefix was in Romanji.
"You have to be in ship-girl command to even get on the server, and that is Admiral Goto's address," Haruna said and smiled.
The captain moved the cursor over the address and turned the phone to Haruna. "What does that say at the bottom?"
Haruna's face fell as she looked. "Kongo.Yokosuka," Haruna said, "I thought you couldn't spoof addresses in that system." She stood up straight. "I will accept any punishment for the events of last night. I was the one who distributed the orders, I urged the others to participate. They all thought they were following lawful orders. The blame is mine alone."
The captain turned the phone off and handed it back to her. "Fortunately, no civilians were injured, no major property damage occurred, and no one was killed. I will forward my recommendation that Admiral Goto handle the disciplinary actions from this event when you and the others return to Yokosuka, dismissed."
Haruna saluted, dropped it, turned and left. The captain turned to her adjutant, and the stenographer who'd been recording everything said also left.
Once the door was closed her adjutant spoke. "It was all bullshit and you know it."
"Yes, but the plan and the RoE are actually pretty useful, and with some of the Truk Abyssals missing, it's not a bad exercise. We'll admit to our political masters that we were not ready to repel a landing without the use of naval artillery in street fighting, and that running the operation at night was a bridge too far. We'll put together a new ops plan, get the civilian forces involved and run it in broad daylight."
"Get them to quit complaining about rampaging ship-girls by getting them worried about rampaging Abyssals, risky," the junior officer said.
"It puts this behind us, and gets them thinking about other things. I frankly want all these ship-girls off New Guinea," the captain said, "Do you know why the brawls happened?"
"All of them showed translations of the exercise cover sheet," the adjutant said, "They fight hard, they play hard."
"Let them play somewhere else," the captain said and gave orders that those slightly hurt could sleep it off in the brigs, all others could be released to appropriate officers.
------------------------------
I've got all but a few of the walking wounded. The light carriers and destroyers all are looking at me with real fear. Dad-bote was pissed off, and pissed off at them. I'd ordered them to remain silent until we could debrief. We had assembled in the MPs auditorium/press briefing room and I'd gotten Houshou on the speakerphone and the videolink. A huge image of Houshou glowered at them over my shoulder. Now dad-bote and mom-bote were going to give them a raking over the coals. I'd seen them under fire and they didn't look this terrified.
"Division leaders, forward," I order.
That reduces the number of terrified ship-girls from over seventy to less than a dozen. The others now have to hope their spokes-ships can talk them out of this. They are braced for a dressing down, ready for any punishment I can throw at them. But when the opponent is ready for one pitch, give them another. Besides, how could I punish them for protecting the date?
------------------------------
Houshou watched Howe's shoulders slump, and his voice sounded so defeated.
"I thought I'd gained enough trust that you could come to me with problems," Howe said, "It seems I failed you in that regard."
If she hadn't had to school her features to look as heartsick and crushed as Howe, she would have laughed at the absolute horror on every face in the auditorium. 'Shoot us, cut off our fingers, ban ice cream but don't say we hurt dad- & mom-bote!' she saw on the carriers and destroyers assembled.
"We have a dozen battleships and cruisers in the repair baths, with not an enemy in sight," Howe said and sighed, "How have I failed you?" The terrified destroyers and light carriers looked at each other desperately.
Johnston, bless her fiery heart stood up. "We all failed."
"Johnston!" Heerman warned.
"Shut up!" Johnston said to her screen commander, "We all failed, but until the exercise, we did not know what we did not know. Without torpedoes and gunfire, defeating a ship-girl or an Abyssal was more difficult than we expected. The only failure is highlighted in Haruna's success. She defeated two battleships, and they will be out of the baths later this morning. She knows Kung Fu. Our training does not include hand-to-hand combat that precludes lethal force."
Taiyou took up the thread. "We need training, sir," the badly bruised light carrier said, "This may also be needed when we are out with civilians. Evading or defeating enemies with a minimum of injury. Aikido is ideal for this, I'd recommend training in these techniques as soon as possible. For all ships."
"It will mean giving up your off time," Howe said.
"We'll do it, sir," Fletcher said.
"Anything else we'll need?" Howe asked.
"Not at this time, sir," Haida said, "Perhaps after we've slept on it. But I agree, the Royal Marines have trainers available."
Howe nodded. "All right. We'll return to quarters. Houshou, can you ask Haruna and Musashi to come to practice. I think we'll also need some basic boxing as well."
"I'll take care of it," Houshou said.
"Very well, attention!" Howe said, and all of them snapped to attention, "Division leaders, attend to your divisions, fall out and proceed to quarters immediately."
The assembled broke up and didn't quite run from the room as Howe cut the link. Houshou sagged into her chair. "For us," she said quietly and the burden of being THE mom-bote descended on her. She headed to bed to rest up, it promised to be a busy few days.
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The Gentleman Speaks His Mind
Hood woke in the repair bath. She should have remained asleep, but her crew had roused her and she knew it was important. She looked up at the edge of the bath.
Hood had never really believed in angels or devils before, but gorgeous and angelic as it was, she was looking straight into Hell itself.
"Prince of Wales is crying her way through her recovery, with Norfolk, Suffolk and Glowworm keeping her company," Howe said as he stared down into the pool, "Tirpitz and Prinz Eugen are in another bath, carefully placed there with the help of Duke of York, Dorsetshire and Sheffield."
"I don't approve of your tone. I am your superior officer," Hood said as she stood up, barely reaching his knees due to the bath's depth, "And the name ship of our class. You -"
"You are of the 1919-class, I am of the 1917-class, I have no more in common with you than I do Vanguard or Warspite. As for your rank, you can explain your rank to Her Imperial Majesty and hope she doesn't simply break you in half for resources to summon less of a disgrace, like HMS Captain. You can explain why you attacked elements of the Royal Navy, as well as our allies. Bismarck I could almost understand, but Prince of Wales was a frightened child who had to watch her own Ulysses die horribly and still carried on the fight. Your behavior towards her is inexcusable. How dare you, madam. HOW DARE YOU!"
"What about yours?" Hood shouted back, her anger growing. Furious that he was looking down at her literally and figuratively.
"So, miscegenation as well as upholding less savory traditions of the Royal Navy? Say when you were in the Norwegian Sea you hoped to nip down and shell Copenhagen for old time's sake?" he said with a jaunty air, then more darkly, "Maybe that goes with Mers-El-Kebir. What do we taunt the Germans with: 'I vas only followink orders'? How does the pride of the Royal Navy wind up a better Nazi than the pride of the Kriegsmarine? Or do you fire on former allies as preference?"
Hood felt ice take her boilers as she realized how her action might be interpreted. But Howe wasn't done.
"Maybe we should change the narrative from poor, old Hood and mean, new Bismarck, to the one who was only good for murdering confused and frightened children got shanked in the prison yard. As awful as rapists, thieves and murderers are, they make child killers' lives nasty, brutish and short," Howe told her coldly, "Your trip to Australia was canceled by this little detour, so you're on a flight back to your champagne, caviar and laurels tomorrow. Enjoy the bond parades and wave to the adoring crowds, but we know who you really are. Although we should thank you for one thing. Duke of York and Scharnhorst were the ones to finally put you down. And they, together, talked Bismarck out of Denmark Strait II for what you did to those cruisers. They and Jamaica were having a sociable drink when I last saw them, so you have accomplished something for our war effort."
His glare was practically shooting lightning now and Hood feared for her safety. She expected him to electrocute her in the bath.
"In a more civilized day to a more civilized creature, I would tell you to gather up your honor and blow your brains out, but hitting such an insignificant target would be beyond even Warspite's legendary accuracy. So good day and good riddance to you madam," he said, turned and stalked out of sight.
Hood sank into the bath up to her chin and shivered.
------------------------------
As they heard him march out, Washington and South Dakota looked at each other and decided to swear off anything that would piss off that battlecruiser.
------------------------------
Haruna was escorting the Germans back to the dorm. Everyone was on edge from the aftermath of the date. Either pining for lost chances with Howe, or the absolute insanity that had gripped certain battleships. So a mixed navy force was a show of solidarity that needed to be seen.
"Forgive me, Fraulein Haruna, but will not your sister-ships be angry for what you did?" Bismarck asked.
"Haruna has a magic spell to make it all better," the battlecruiser said.
"I'd like to learn that one for Howe and Houshou tomorrow, or later today I guess," Z-1 said.
Haruna stopped, turned. "Watch." She pulled down her lower eye lid, stuck out her tongue, "Byu! Gotcha." She straightens up. "All will be forgiven."
"I don't think that will work on Howe," Bismarck said then grimaced, "No more laughing, it hurts too much."
"You should go to the baths," Haruna said.
"Howe is talking to Hood," Bismarck said, "Even Tirpitz is considering the possibility of being a U-boat until he leaves."
Haruna glanced at her phone. "Hiei as well, we sisters should visit her."
"What are those carriers doing?" Z-1 asked as they spotted a large group of angry ships clustered around the door to Howe's apartment. The angry knocks and a few shouts became audible.
"He's eating Hood alive in the baths and you are volunteering to be next," Bismarck shouted at them, "So he'll come up behind you."
The carriers looked around at each other and frowned, then departed as a group.
"Why does Haruna think bunking in the cruiser dorm will be more peaceful sleep?" Haruna asked.
"I don't think Prinz Eugen would mind," Bismarck and Haruna turned and left for the other building.
------------------------------
I've been out walking until the sun came up. I need to calm down before I face the destroyers and light carriers after breakfast. While it does take two to tango, they were defensive and willing to talk. Hood and the others charged in with all their preconceptions and wanted to ruin things because they didn't revolve around them. I had already figured out how Abyssals could be made, and wanted to avoid that for myself and anyone I encountered.
The swarm of fleet carriers at my door when all I want is a shower and a change before I endure the mess hall, is not welcome. But I cannot do less than the destroyers did, start talking, then escalate.
"Your Princess is in another castle," I shout at them and smirk at their shocked expressions.
How long have they been pounding on my door when I wasn't even there? I wonder.
"Do you want to shout in the corridors, or shall we go inside?" I say, and assume there's something in my tone, because they part like the Red Sea as I unlock the door and go inside. They can follow or not, I'm not inviting them in.
About seventeen fleet carriers squeeze into my apartment, trying to be there, yet stay out of reach at the same time.
"About Houshou," Kaga says, then falls silent.
"Oh dear, it's that speech," I say as I sit on the couch, "And none of you brought a shotgun. Strange," I tell them as I pull out the cleaning kit and smile, "I have one."
While I'd meticulously cleaned the H&H after the battle around Truk, and once I was on dry land, another dab of oil and polish won't hurt. They start as I pull it, and break it open. They relax as they see it is empty and I begin with the brushes and cloths. "Few of you realize how lonely it can get as the pedestaled paragon, the one everyone venerated, but few will actually talk to. Houshou just wanted to talk to someone. The destroyers realized a cunning plan to bring us together and we talked. And talked." I looked up. "She asked to help me teach the destroyers, because you lot abandoned her. I note that I didn't have to send White Plains, St. Lo, Kalinin Bay, Kitkun Bay, Fanshaw Bay, escorted by Dennis, Raymond and Butler, to report for training to Houshou, they reported to her this morning after checking in with Heerman. Yes, eight spontaneous summonings during the fight between Hiei and Taffy 3. Probably getting underfoot but still keeping her company. But all of you are here. None of you are there with her, you're all here defending her in abstract while ignoring her in the flesh."
I have finished cleaning the barrels, so I pack up that kit and break out the wood polish to work on the stock and handgrips. I glance up as I start polishing, and see a sea of uncertain faces looking at their feet or each other. I give the wood work a quick once over awaiting an interruption that never comes.
"Well, I enjoyed this discussion, and look forward to another. Please see yourselves out," I say, and watch the dispirited herd move out.
Once the door closes, I sigh. "Maybe she's right and I will grow into this role," I say as I head to my shower.
------------------------------
Houshou arrives at the field in her uniform looking positively radiant as she chats with the collection of escort carriers and destroyer escorts. Sammie B and Gambier Bay had joined them at some point and Houshou's lambent joy has every destroyer and light carrier practically melting into a puddle. Even Haruna and a slightly hungover Musashi in their gis are taken by the sight.
Houshou either doesn't notice, or is playing up the effect. It doesn't break until she sends her escort off to join their squadron mates. She raises an eyebrow at my grin, but doesn't give anything else away.
"Haruna the floor is yours," I tell her.
"Haruna hopes it is well padded for everyone," she says, "Fighting is about leverage and using their energy against them." She turns to face Musashi and the battleship raises her arms and charges. There are some very good boxers and wrestlers among my crew, even a savateur or two, but I can't follow the swift movements of Haruna as she goes from menaced to holding the frightened battleship leaning over backwards off the ground. Musashi was scrabbling to get a grip on Haruna, and get her footing. She'd almost get it, and Haruna would move slightly and Musashi was back to scrambling. Haruna didn't look at the pleading face staring up at her. She watched as the destroyers and light carriers stared and wondered 'How does a 37K ton battlecruiser overwhelm a 73K ton battleship?'
"You see, she cannot stand on her own. Against an Abyssal, Haruna would crush her bridge against a stone, or split her keel like a twig," she says, I watch Musashi's pleading expression, but Haruna continues to hold her up. "But in practice if you put someone in this position, you are responsible to keep them safe. Lower them safely." Haruna did that and a frightened Musashi grips her more desperately. "Or bring her upright." She set Musashi back on her feet. The shaken battleship nods her thanks and faces the crowd. "In a real fight, disable or kill, or run away. Haruna will show you how to run away faster, and how to scare away chasers." She put her hands up and did a series of cartwheels. She stopped and looked at a whole slew of girls trying to hold down their skirts as they imagined duplicating the maneuver.
"It is faster than running, and will confuse those chasing," she explained.
"Can we do that on the water?" Sammie B asks enthusiastically, "I'd be faster than Shimakaze!"
"POI!" sounds like a war cry.
Haruna is considering. "We'll try after lunch," she says, "To start, we'll have our helpers start you out." Which is the signal for me and Musashi to go among the carriers, while Tone, Houshou, Tenryuu, Tatsuta, Suzuya and Kumano work with the destroyers. It's going to be a long day.
"When can we start trashing bozos?" Johnston says.
"This is to help you calm down," Heerman throws back, "What does Hiei's radar taste like anyway?"
I do not want to know. Yes, a very long day.
------------------------------
"Lunch time," Haruna called. Cartwheels were going well, some of the girls had advanced to learning how to fall without shattering their keels or unmounting all their machinery. Haruna was content with the progress. "We'll meet at Lagoon number 2 in ninety minutes."
The charge towards the mess hall began, Howe and Houshou holding hands and running through the sea of smaller girls, sometimes raising their hands to pass over a taller girl. Haruna moved towards them, but her arms slowed her. She looked back and saw that Musashi had taken her hand.
"If I am to help you train," the battleship said, "I'll need to be better. Can we train, privately?"
Haruna felt a blush form, and suddenly the ground at her feet seemed very interesting. "Haruna would like that," she said, and tugged Musashi into following her to the mess hall.
------------------------------
Glowworm looked back and nudged Lupo. "Dad-bote works fast," she said.
The Italian torpedo boat nodded. "He is a battlecruiser, so is slow off the mark, but once going, pffft," Lupo said.
Glowworm nodded.
------------------------------
Suffolk looked over at Prince of Wales' soft 'beautiful', then looked at the battlecruiser and light carrier standing at the edge of the pool, and face palmed.
"Look at them!" Wales complained, she looked back eyes shining, "They're beautiful."
Suffolk was almost as embarrassed as Howe and Houshou, but the carrier snuggling coyly against the gorgeous battlecruiser was a perfect image.
"So I guess that you two are okay," Howe said.
"Physically fine," Norfolk said, she glanced around, "Hood's gone? We heard your discussion."
"I hope the entire bay heard it. She flew out this morning," Howe said darkly, "I thought our displeasure should be made known and clearly understood."
At the slight noise from Houshou, Howe explained, "I took arguably the least charitable interpretation of her actions and statements, and threw it in her face."
"She probably would have preferred a broadside," Wales said.
Suffolk saw that the pair were already reading each other's moods and unspoken statements like a longtime married couple. She struggled not to squee at the adorableness.
"Lunch should be coming in soon," Howe said, "But we had to check in on you. Thank you."
"I hope we don't need you to do the same," Norfolk said and then looked embarrassed.
"Quick to the Howecave they've lit the Howesignal!" Houshou said and poor Howe looked properly embarrassed, "Then to the Howemobile."
"It's a plane," Howe teased back making Houshou uncomfortable.
Wales started laughing. Suffolk suspected that may have been their intention. She quietly thought that the pair might have been going for a George Burns and Gracie Allen act.
------------------------------
I am extremely glad that it's tropically warm and that the girls are resistant to chill. The number of soaking wet carriers and destroyers sitting on the beach isn't worrying.
"AUGH! POI!" Shimakaze screams in rage and frustration.
"Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!" Sammie B says as she cartwheels past the half-sunken destroyer and races out of reach.
"POI!" the destroyer screams as she races after the destroyer escort.
"You kill it, you eat it!" Johnston shouts after Shimakaze as she manages two cartwheels in a row before going in the drink.
Howe turns back to the destroyers and carriers on the beach, and sees them locking arms and standing at the shore's edge. Every one of them grinning. "Houshou, the peasants are revolting."
"They certainly . . . are," she says as she looks at the grinning wall. We exchange a look and nod.
I perform a perfect cartwheel, then another and stand to stare at the agog, Houshou also stands after her two cartwheels and grins at them. We practiced while they were at lunch.
And we usually got too dizzy after the third and went into the drink.
"Yes?" I ask, ignoring Houshou's struggles not to laugh.
Bowed heads, they head back onto the water to try again.
------------------------------
"Aw!" echoes over the field, as the girls react to Haruna calling an end to the day's practice.
"There's tomorrow," I tell them, "And tomorrow we'll have more trainers and we can pick the martial art that best suits you."
Before they can react, the radios blare with 'Many planes inbound,' from the radar pickets.
"Into the water! Carriers prepare to launch interceptors and a barrier cap," Houshou orders as she runs for the water.
I run along with the destroyers, Haruna and Musashi are at my heels. My rigging is on within a few steps and we are all headed towards the radio signals using the radio direction finders to locate which picket is broadcasting.
Behind us, the Taffies as well as Armidale, Lupo and Curtatone form around the carriers launching as fast as they can.
Neither I nor Houshou gives the romantic longing glance, we both know that our best efforts are our best defense. My CIC gives a location, speed and thus ideal intercept point for our anti-air. Across the base other units are scrambling.
"They are high-level bombers," comes from the pickets, "Four engined."
My phone pings, and one of the heavy carriers who'd been maintaining the recon flights has texted a photo of one of the planes. They are all Lancasters, with the bomb bay doors removed.
"Evacuate the repair baths," I say by radio, "They're armed with Grand Slams, earthquake bombs." I fervently hope the 617 Squadron markings are cosmetic rather than a testament to their effectiveness.
My armorers have adjusted the fuses for maximum range on the Sanshiki, none of my other antiair can reach far enough to touch the planes, yet. Several of the destroyers have already opened up, using radar fire control, and VT fuses, fortunately, so heavily loaded the bombers are at 'merely' 18-20 thousand feet. Even my Mark V's can engage, when they get close enough.
"Maintain evasive action," I remind them, "A near miss could crush even my hull."
Their evasions are broad sweeping curves to avoid interfering with their defensive fire, but to these heavy bombers, it makes them unhittable.
Unless they have radio guidance, I think, and am glad of the worrywart portion of my mind.
"There weren't that many Lancasters in the world," comes from Prince of Wales.
I still have no radar, but the lookouts are now able to see the bombers. It's a thousand-plane raid, I realize, but don't say. They weren't seen in the Pacific, until the bombing of Japan. But the Europeans know them, and know what they can do. I hear the main guns of the battleships firing as I fire the drilling at the bomber swarm.
"All ships, prepare to cease fire," Enterprise calls, "Fighters engaging. Machinegun-armed take out their escorts, cannon armed concentrate on the bombers."
Logical, the Browning .50 is excellent against fighters or the fragile Japanese medium bombers, but against Allied heavies, 20mm and up are better suited: Zeros and Seafires. I hope some of the Corsairs are the quad 20mm versions. The escort's Wildcats and Avengers are still climbing to intercept, but they'll be joining the struggle.
While the formation had simply plowed through the flak, the bombers take evasive action against the fighter streams. These aren't the combat boxes of the Americans bristling with machineguns, and the Lancasters have limited armament to carry the huge bombs. They have to depend on escorts.
The Hellcats and Corsairs rip holes in the cordon for the Zeros and Seafires that race in and launch their slashing attacks. The Wildcats, Avengers and Zeros of the light and escort carriers have finally reached the bomber stream.
I watch in amazement as four Avengers form an en echelon attack and machinegun, not the plane, but the massive bomb slung beneath it. The explosion destroys the bomber and cripples the Avengers, but the Wildcats take up the challenge and begin attacking the bombs.
"Fletcher, plane guard, take 20 destroyers," I order, and the formation is soon racing across the water after the brave souls who'd solved our problem, there were literally not enough cannon shells aloft to destroy all the bombers and their escorts.
"All ships, concentrate on the stragglers," Enterprise orders, "Fire at will."
Our force opens up on the separated bombers while a second wave of fighters replaces the first. With their escorts gone, and their bombs a target for the machineguns, the bombers are savaged. Many fighters and attack aircraft launched to add their guns to the fray are damaged or destroyed by the massive explosions of ten-tons of torpex detonating in air.
I am aware that the bombers will be over Port Moresby soon, and despite killing many, what's left are a substantial host. Even one of those bombs could destroy an entire building.
Modern jet fighters from Australia and New Zealand now enter the fray. The local air force had been attacking the rear of the bomber stream, the ANZACs hit them head on.
"They can't lock onto the bombers," Armidale shouts over the net, "But they can lock onto the bombs!"
As terrifying as this attack is, that alone makes sure the Abyss will be reluctant to try again. An Abyssal's ability to be a ship, and a girl, interchangeably confuses modern sensors. Ditto with their planes. But their bombs can't do that, they stay the beer can-sized object, and while a difficult target, air-to-air missiles have proximity fuses.
The ANZACs take their toll, but suddenly break off. They can see the bombs, and the bombs are falling. Explosions shake the air, but not one of the bombs drops below 10,000 feet.
"Cease fire, cease fire!" comes from Enterprise, "We earned our beer and ice cream this day ladies!"
"Well done," I tell the destroyers around me.
"Oh no!" Johnston says.
"What?" I scan the skies for some seaskimming attacker.
"Houshou and company don't have ice cream makers," Johnston says, "How do we give them back their pilots."
I admit it, I facepalm. "I'm sure I can arrange something."
Johnston lets out a sigh of relief.
Hood had never really believed in angels or devils before, but gorgeous and angelic as it was, she was looking straight into Hell itself.
"Prince of Wales is crying her way through her recovery, with Norfolk, Suffolk and Glowworm keeping her company," Howe said as he stared down into the pool, "Tirpitz and Prinz Eugen are in another bath, carefully placed there with the help of Duke of York, Dorsetshire and Sheffield."
"I don't approve of your tone. I am your superior officer," Hood said as she stood up, barely reaching his knees due to the bath's depth, "And the name ship of our class. You -"
"You are of the 1919-class, I am of the 1917-class, I have no more in common with you than I do Vanguard or Warspite. As for your rank, you can explain your rank to Her Imperial Majesty and hope she doesn't simply break you in half for resources to summon less of a disgrace, like HMS Captain. You can explain why you attacked elements of the Royal Navy, as well as our allies. Bismarck I could almost understand, but Prince of Wales was a frightened child who had to watch her own Ulysses die horribly and still carried on the fight. Your behavior towards her is inexcusable. How dare you, madam. HOW DARE YOU!"
"What about yours?" Hood shouted back, her anger growing. Furious that he was looking down at her literally and figuratively.
"So, miscegenation as well as upholding less savory traditions of the Royal Navy? Say when you were in the Norwegian Sea you hoped to nip down and shell Copenhagen for old time's sake?" he said with a jaunty air, then more darkly, "Maybe that goes with Mers-El-Kebir. What do we taunt the Germans with: 'I vas only followink orders'? How does the pride of the Royal Navy wind up a better Nazi than the pride of the Kriegsmarine? Or do you fire on former allies as preference?"
Hood felt ice take her boilers as she realized how her action might be interpreted. But Howe wasn't done.
"Maybe we should change the narrative from poor, old Hood and mean, new Bismarck, to the one who was only good for murdering confused and frightened children got shanked in the prison yard. As awful as rapists, thieves and murderers are, they make child killers' lives nasty, brutish and short," Howe told her coldly, "Your trip to Australia was canceled by this little detour, so you're on a flight back to your champagne, caviar and laurels tomorrow. Enjoy the bond parades and wave to the adoring crowds, but we know who you really are. Although we should thank you for one thing. Duke of York and Scharnhorst were the ones to finally put you down. And they, together, talked Bismarck out of Denmark Strait II for what you did to those cruisers. They and Jamaica were having a sociable drink when I last saw them, so you have accomplished something for our war effort."
His glare was practically shooting lightning now and Hood feared for her safety. She expected him to electrocute her in the bath.
"In a more civilized day to a more civilized creature, I would tell you to gather up your honor and blow your brains out, but hitting such an insignificant target would be beyond even Warspite's legendary accuracy. So good day and good riddance to you madam," he said, turned and stalked out of sight.
Hood sank into the bath up to her chin and shivered.
------------------------------
As they heard him march out, Washington and South Dakota looked at each other and decided to swear off anything that would piss off that battlecruiser.
------------------------------
Haruna was escorting the Germans back to the dorm. Everyone was on edge from the aftermath of the date. Either pining for lost chances with Howe, or the absolute insanity that had gripped certain battleships. So a mixed navy force was a show of solidarity that needed to be seen.
"Forgive me, Fraulein Haruna, but will not your sister-ships be angry for what you did?" Bismarck asked.
"Haruna has a magic spell to make it all better," the battlecruiser said.
"I'd like to learn that one for Howe and Houshou tomorrow, or later today I guess," Z-1 said.
Haruna stopped, turned. "Watch." She pulled down her lower eye lid, stuck out her tongue, "Byu! Gotcha." She straightens up. "All will be forgiven."
"I don't think that will work on Howe," Bismarck said then grimaced, "No more laughing, it hurts too much."
"You should go to the baths," Haruna said.
"Howe is talking to Hood," Bismarck said, "Even Tirpitz is considering the possibility of being a U-boat until he leaves."
Haruna glanced at her phone. "Hiei as well, we sisters should visit her."
"What are those carriers doing?" Z-1 asked as they spotted a large group of angry ships clustered around the door to Howe's apartment. The angry knocks and a few shouts became audible.
"He's eating Hood alive in the baths and you are volunteering to be next," Bismarck shouted at them, "So he'll come up behind you."
The carriers looked around at each other and frowned, then departed as a group.
"Why does Haruna think bunking in the cruiser dorm will be more peaceful sleep?" Haruna asked.
"I don't think Prinz Eugen would mind," Bismarck and Haruna turned and left for the other building.
------------------------------
I've been out walking until the sun came up. I need to calm down before I face the destroyers and light carriers after breakfast. While it does take two to tango, they were defensive and willing to talk. Hood and the others charged in with all their preconceptions and wanted to ruin things because they didn't revolve around them. I had already figured out how Abyssals could be made, and wanted to avoid that for myself and anyone I encountered.
The swarm of fleet carriers at my door when all I want is a shower and a change before I endure the mess hall, is not welcome. But I cannot do less than the destroyers did, start talking, then escalate.
"Your Princess is in another castle," I shout at them and smirk at their shocked expressions.
How long have they been pounding on my door when I wasn't even there? I wonder.
"Do you want to shout in the corridors, or shall we go inside?" I say, and assume there's something in my tone, because they part like the Red Sea as I unlock the door and go inside. They can follow or not, I'm not inviting them in.
About seventeen fleet carriers squeeze into my apartment, trying to be there, yet stay out of reach at the same time.
"About Houshou," Kaga says, then falls silent.
"Oh dear, it's that speech," I say as I sit on the couch, "And none of you brought a shotgun. Strange," I tell them as I pull out the cleaning kit and smile, "I have one."
While I'd meticulously cleaned the H&H after the battle around Truk, and once I was on dry land, another dab of oil and polish won't hurt. They start as I pull it, and break it open. They relax as they see it is empty and I begin with the brushes and cloths. "Few of you realize how lonely it can get as the pedestaled paragon, the one everyone venerated, but few will actually talk to. Houshou just wanted to talk to someone. The destroyers realized a cunning plan to bring us together and we talked. And talked." I looked up. "She asked to help me teach the destroyers, because you lot abandoned her. I note that I didn't have to send White Plains, St. Lo, Kalinin Bay, Kitkun Bay, Fanshaw Bay, escorted by Dennis, Raymond and Butler, to report for training to Houshou, they reported to her this morning after checking in with Heerman. Yes, eight spontaneous summonings during the fight between Hiei and Taffy 3. Probably getting underfoot but still keeping her company. But all of you are here. None of you are there with her, you're all here defending her in abstract while ignoring her in the flesh."
I have finished cleaning the barrels, so I pack up that kit and break out the wood polish to work on the stock and handgrips. I glance up as I start polishing, and see a sea of uncertain faces looking at their feet or each other. I give the wood work a quick once over awaiting an interruption that never comes.
"Well, I enjoyed this discussion, and look forward to another. Please see yourselves out," I say, and watch the dispirited herd move out.
Once the door closes, I sigh. "Maybe she's right and I will grow into this role," I say as I head to my shower.
------------------------------
Houshou arrives at the field in her uniform looking positively radiant as she chats with the collection of escort carriers and destroyer escorts. Sammie B and Gambier Bay had joined them at some point and Houshou's lambent joy has every destroyer and light carrier practically melting into a puddle. Even Haruna and a slightly hungover Musashi in their gis are taken by the sight.
Houshou either doesn't notice, or is playing up the effect. It doesn't break until she sends her escort off to join their squadron mates. She raises an eyebrow at my grin, but doesn't give anything else away.
"Haruna the floor is yours," I tell her.
"Haruna hopes it is well padded for everyone," she says, "Fighting is about leverage and using their energy against them." She turns to face Musashi and the battleship raises her arms and charges. There are some very good boxers and wrestlers among my crew, even a savateur or two, but I can't follow the swift movements of Haruna as she goes from menaced to holding the frightened battleship leaning over backwards off the ground. Musashi was scrabbling to get a grip on Haruna, and get her footing. She'd almost get it, and Haruna would move slightly and Musashi was back to scrambling. Haruna didn't look at the pleading face staring up at her. She watched as the destroyers and light carriers stared and wondered 'How does a 37K ton battlecruiser overwhelm a 73K ton battleship?'
"You see, she cannot stand on her own. Against an Abyssal, Haruna would crush her bridge against a stone, or split her keel like a twig," she says, I watch Musashi's pleading expression, but Haruna continues to hold her up. "But in practice if you put someone in this position, you are responsible to keep them safe. Lower them safely." Haruna did that and a frightened Musashi grips her more desperately. "Or bring her upright." She set Musashi back on her feet. The shaken battleship nods her thanks and faces the crowd. "In a real fight, disable or kill, or run away. Haruna will show you how to run away faster, and how to scare away chasers." She put her hands up and did a series of cartwheels. She stopped and looked at a whole slew of girls trying to hold down their skirts as they imagined duplicating the maneuver.
"It is faster than running, and will confuse those chasing," she explained.
"Can we do that on the water?" Sammie B asks enthusiastically, "I'd be faster than Shimakaze!"
"POI!" sounds like a war cry.
Haruna is considering. "We'll try after lunch," she says, "To start, we'll have our helpers start you out." Which is the signal for me and Musashi to go among the carriers, while Tone, Houshou, Tenryuu, Tatsuta, Suzuya and Kumano work with the destroyers. It's going to be a long day.
"When can we start trashing bozos?" Johnston says.
"This is to help you calm down," Heerman throws back, "What does Hiei's radar taste like anyway?"
I do not want to know. Yes, a very long day.
------------------------------
"Lunch time," Haruna called. Cartwheels were going well, some of the girls had advanced to learning how to fall without shattering their keels or unmounting all their machinery. Haruna was content with the progress. "We'll meet at Lagoon number 2 in ninety minutes."
The charge towards the mess hall began, Howe and Houshou holding hands and running through the sea of smaller girls, sometimes raising their hands to pass over a taller girl. Haruna moved towards them, but her arms slowed her. She looked back and saw that Musashi had taken her hand.
"If I am to help you train," the battleship said, "I'll need to be better. Can we train, privately?"
Haruna felt a blush form, and suddenly the ground at her feet seemed very interesting. "Haruna would like that," she said, and tugged Musashi into following her to the mess hall.
------------------------------
Glowworm looked back and nudged Lupo. "Dad-bote works fast," she said.
The Italian torpedo boat nodded. "He is a battlecruiser, so is slow off the mark, but once going, pffft," Lupo said.
Glowworm nodded.
------------------------------
Suffolk looked over at Prince of Wales' soft 'beautiful', then looked at the battlecruiser and light carrier standing at the edge of the pool, and face palmed.
"Look at them!" Wales complained, she looked back eyes shining, "They're beautiful."
Suffolk was almost as embarrassed as Howe and Houshou, but the carrier snuggling coyly against the gorgeous battlecruiser was a perfect image.
"So I guess that you two are okay," Howe said.
"Physically fine," Norfolk said, she glanced around, "Hood's gone? We heard your discussion."
"I hope the entire bay heard it. She flew out this morning," Howe said darkly, "I thought our displeasure should be made known and clearly understood."
At the slight noise from Houshou, Howe explained, "I took arguably the least charitable interpretation of her actions and statements, and threw it in her face."
"She probably would have preferred a broadside," Wales said.
Suffolk saw that the pair were already reading each other's moods and unspoken statements like a longtime married couple. She struggled not to squee at the adorableness.
"Lunch should be coming in soon," Howe said, "But we had to check in on you. Thank you."
"I hope we don't need you to do the same," Norfolk said and then looked embarrassed.
"Quick to the Howecave they've lit the Howesignal!" Houshou said and poor Howe looked properly embarrassed, "Then to the Howemobile."
"It's a plane," Howe teased back making Houshou uncomfortable.
Wales started laughing. Suffolk suspected that may have been their intention. She quietly thought that the pair might have been going for a George Burns and Gracie Allen act.
------------------------------
I am extremely glad that it's tropically warm and that the girls are resistant to chill. The number of soaking wet carriers and destroyers sitting on the beach isn't worrying.
"AUGH! POI!" Shimakaze screams in rage and frustration.
"Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!" Sammie B says as she cartwheels past the half-sunken destroyer and races out of reach.
"POI!" the destroyer screams as she races after the destroyer escort.
"You kill it, you eat it!" Johnston shouts after Shimakaze as she manages two cartwheels in a row before going in the drink.
Howe turns back to the destroyers and carriers on the beach, and sees them locking arms and standing at the shore's edge. Every one of them grinning. "Houshou, the peasants are revolting."
"They certainly . . . are," she says as she looks at the grinning wall. We exchange a look and nod.
I perform a perfect cartwheel, then another and stand to stare at the agog, Houshou also stands after her two cartwheels and grins at them. We practiced while they were at lunch.
And we usually got too dizzy after the third and went into the drink.
"Yes?" I ask, ignoring Houshou's struggles not to laugh.
Bowed heads, they head back onto the water to try again.
------------------------------
"Aw!" echoes over the field, as the girls react to Haruna calling an end to the day's practice.
"There's tomorrow," I tell them, "And tomorrow we'll have more trainers and we can pick the martial art that best suits you."
Before they can react, the radios blare with 'Many planes inbound,' from the radar pickets.
"Into the water! Carriers prepare to launch interceptors and a barrier cap," Houshou orders as she runs for the water.
I run along with the destroyers, Haruna and Musashi are at my heels. My rigging is on within a few steps and we are all headed towards the radio signals using the radio direction finders to locate which picket is broadcasting.
Behind us, the Taffies as well as Armidale, Lupo and Curtatone form around the carriers launching as fast as they can.
Neither I nor Houshou gives the romantic longing glance, we both know that our best efforts are our best defense. My CIC gives a location, speed and thus ideal intercept point for our anti-air. Across the base other units are scrambling.
"They are high-level bombers," comes from the pickets, "Four engined."
My phone pings, and one of the heavy carriers who'd been maintaining the recon flights has texted a photo of one of the planes. They are all Lancasters, with the bomb bay doors removed.
"Evacuate the repair baths," I say by radio, "They're armed with Grand Slams, earthquake bombs." I fervently hope the 617 Squadron markings are cosmetic rather than a testament to their effectiveness.
My armorers have adjusted the fuses for maximum range on the Sanshiki, none of my other antiair can reach far enough to touch the planes, yet. Several of the destroyers have already opened up, using radar fire control, and VT fuses, fortunately, so heavily loaded the bombers are at 'merely' 18-20 thousand feet. Even my Mark V's can engage, when they get close enough.
"Maintain evasive action," I remind them, "A near miss could crush even my hull."
Their evasions are broad sweeping curves to avoid interfering with their defensive fire, but to these heavy bombers, it makes them unhittable.
Unless they have radio guidance, I think, and am glad of the worrywart portion of my mind.
"There weren't that many Lancasters in the world," comes from Prince of Wales.
I still have no radar, but the lookouts are now able to see the bombers. It's a thousand-plane raid, I realize, but don't say. They weren't seen in the Pacific, until the bombing of Japan. But the Europeans know them, and know what they can do. I hear the main guns of the battleships firing as I fire the drilling at the bomber swarm.
"All ships, prepare to cease fire," Enterprise calls, "Fighters engaging. Machinegun-armed take out their escorts, cannon armed concentrate on the bombers."
Logical, the Browning .50 is excellent against fighters or the fragile Japanese medium bombers, but against Allied heavies, 20mm and up are better suited: Zeros and Seafires. I hope some of the Corsairs are the quad 20mm versions. The escort's Wildcats and Avengers are still climbing to intercept, but they'll be joining the struggle.
While the formation had simply plowed through the flak, the bombers take evasive action against the fighter streams. These aren't the combat boxes of the Americans bristling with machineguns, and the Lancasters have limited armament to carry the huge bombs. They have to depend on escorts.
The Hellcats and Corsairs rip holes in the cordon for the Zeros and Seafires that race in and launch their slashing attacks. The Wildcats, Avengers and Zeros of the light and escort carriers have finally reached the bomber stream.
I watch in amazement as four Avengers form an en echelon attack and machinegun, not the plane, but the massive bomb slung beneath it. The explosion destroys the bomber and cripples the Avengers, but the Wildcats take up the challenge and begin attacking the bombs.
"Fletcher, plane guard, take 20 destroyers," I order, and the formation is soon racing across the water after the brave souls who'd solved our problem, there were literally not enough cannon shells aloft to destroy all the bombers and their escorts.
"All ships, concentrate on the stragglers," Enterprise orders, "Fire at will."
Our force opens up on the separated bombers while a second wave of fighters replaces the first. With their escorts gone, and their bombs a target for the machineguns, the bombers are savaged. Many fighters and attack aircraft launched to add their guns to the fray are damaged or destroyed by the massive explosions of ten-tons of torpex detonating in air.
I am aware that the bombers will be over Port Moresby soon, and despite killing many, what's left are a substantial host. Even one of those bombs could destroy an entire building.
Modern jet fighters from Australia and New Zealand now enter the fray. The local air force had been attacking the rear of the bomber stream, the ANZACs hit them head on.
"They can't lock onto the bombers," Armidale shouts over the net, "But they can lock onto the bombs!"
As terrifying as this attack is, that alone makes sure the Abyss will be reluctant to try again. An Abyssal's ability to be a ship, and a girl, interchangeably confuses modern sensors. Ditto with their planes. But their bombs can't do that, they stay the beer can-sized object, and while a difficult target, air-to-air missiles have proximity fuses.
The ANZACs take their toll, but suddenly break off. They can see the bombs, and the bombs are falling. Explosions shake the air, but not one of the bombs drops below 10,000 feet.
"Cease fire, cease fire!" comes from Enterprise, "We earned our beer and ice cream this day ladies!"
"Well done," I tell the destroyers around me.
"Oh no!" Johnston says.
"What?" I scan the skies for some seaskimming attacker.
"Houshou and company don't have ice cream makers," Johnston says, "How do we give them back their pilots."
I admit it, I facepalm. "I'm sure I can arrange something."
Johnston lets out a sigh of relief.
- Location
- Mocksville, NC
so did hood just throw hands or did she actually use her guns? or is that something that will be elaborated on more in future chapters?
Hopefully she'll take the underlying message and talk to Her Majesty about things.
Everyone was using their hands. If they'd used even their medium AA there would have been a lot of property damage.
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Shimakaze doesn't "Poi!". That's Yūdachi's verbal tick.
Avengers are massive torpedo bombers with a maximum of two forward-firing guns. They'd be terrible fighters.
Steakthedog
Verified Pedant
This is a "Scramble Everything" situation, this is a force with more Lancasters and Grand Slams than is reasonable, no they've put up every aircraft With one or more guns simply because they need every gun they can get.
It's to establish an alibi so when a masked figure with no pants beats up Gamby, they blame Yuudachi.
With four, that's still the firepower of a P-47 Thunderbolt making the attack. And heavy bombers are even less maneuverable than the Avenger.
These are planes of Taffy 3 protecting their new mom-bote, they'll ram if they have to.
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I had high hopes after the 1st chapter and I have not been disappointed. Amazing story, love Howe, great job.
Happiness, When You OutBongo the Kongo
The sniffling Shimakaze walked through the base, after a lot of good food, a lot of ice cream, and the promise of more, she'd left the party that was shaping up. She wasn't even aware of the group of escorts she'd picked up until Lupo poked her.
As they looked up at the tree the skittish speed-demon was hanging from. Yuudachi stared up. "So what if we can cartwheel faster that you, poi?"
"I'm the fastest! That's me!" Shimakaze sobbed and hugged the tree.
Armidale picked up a plastic traffic cone, put it on her head and shouted, "Time for special night training!"
"That's Naka doing a Sendai," Curtatone said, receiving a frown from Armidale.
"I can't even cartwheel on dry land!" Shimakaze said.
Lupo and Dennis climbed the tree and peeled the sobbing destroyer loose, lowering her to Yuudachi and Gambier Bay.
"It would never have worked you know," Gambier Bay said as the other carriers of Taffy 3 joined the group. "No one would have believed Yuudachi had beaten me up."
"I can cartwheel," Yuudachi said, "Unless you were going to pound her into poi."
"Maybe she's transporting her across provincial lines for immoral poi-pesses," Kitkun Bay suggested.
Yuudachi frowned. "These jokes are pure -"
"Poi-son," Lupo suggested.
"Drek," Yuudachi said as they walked onto a brightly lit portion of the drill field. "I watched Howe and Houshou-san practice during lunch. This is how they did it." She leaned over and sort of side hopped with her hands and feet on the ground. "Then this." She raised her hands and dropped on them when she hopped her legs over. "But they sort of fell over after three or four cartwheels."
"They tricked us?" Fanshaw Bay asked.
"Poi," Shimakaze moaned.
"It's poi, not poi," Yuudachi said, "Like In sha'Allah, but without the overhasty urgency."
Shimakaze stared at Yuudachi for a bit, then let Lupo and Curtatone help her through the babysteps to cartwheels.
------------------------------
I had my shower and had changed into my pajamas. The debrief wasn't early but it would seem so after the excitement and eating of the day. The late-night knock on the door confused me. I open the door to Houshou wearing a great coat that is obviously for someone much taller.
"Is there trouble?" I ask, I can't imagine what else could go wrong without alarms over the radio, as I step aside to let her in, I glance outside to no obvious fires, searchlights or screaming masses.
"Sort of," she says as she turns down the bed and gives me a sultry look over her shoulder.
I'll admit, I'm slow, but the reality hits me a moment before she lets the coat slide to the floor. She's obviously enjoying my near panicked reaction.
The shirt and slacks pajamas she's wearing cover her from throat past her ankles, similar to mine. They aren't baggy, but even Musashi could wear them comfortably.
"Heart trouble," I admit as orders to the boilers cancel ramming speed. Houshou laughing about it helps with that, but she still climbs into bed and pats the mattress beside her. I sit on the bed beside her. "I know this is pushing things, but after a few overheard conversations at the party."
"I've been hearing similar for months, in four languages, and nothing came of it," I admit, "I was thinking I'd gotten the translation wrong. While I understand the need to mark your territory, and I appreciate the offer, it is too far. You met me a few days ago."
"Well, if you won't ravish me, how about a cuddle?" Her smile falters. "I'm lonely, we're adults and wasn't bundling still a thing in your time?"
"So the assumption and gossip is good enough?" I ask, when she nods, I continue, "Okay I can deal with that." I straighten out as I lie beside her. "You shouldn't worry too much about their talk."
She snuggles into the crook of my arm, using my shoulder as a pillow. Her look is as good as a question mark.
"The Iowas have talked about 'getting a notch' for four months, and nothing. I'll take someone who will actually talk to me over anyone who won't. I had seventeen carriers ready to defend your honor in absentia, yet none of them would speak aloud."
"So the plain one is better than the beauties?" she asks.
"Do not fret that you are just pleasant and cannot be as gorgeous as I am," I say, "As a god among ships I sprinkle some vain hope to those plebeians who will never be truly stunning themselves."
Houshou sits up, then leans in and bites me on the neck.
"My conning tower is well armored, and you said you didn't bite," I say.
"Yah weh sa dizpointd," she says.
"Anyway, about the Iowas, and Mutsu, and Akagi, and Takao, and Atago," I say and she growls in mock anger, "They had their chance, and they took a vow of silence, so I'll treat them as the nuns they are."
Now she releases because she's laughing.
"Although I still don't understand Ayanami's comment that to drive them away, I should act like an uppercrust prince, then she showed me a picture of a weird, white horse," I say, "Of course that's fair, she doesn't understand when I ask her where Shinji is."
Houshou's laughter is masked by the fact she's practically burrowing into my armpit.
"So I'm not exactly eager to add Tone, Suzuya and Kumano to our group. They too had their chance and were part of the wall of silence," I say, "Now Haruna and Musashi . . . "
She raises her head growling and baring her teeth.
"If you bite me," I warn, "I'll do something unspeakable to you." I give her an all teeth-showing grin.
She bites me gently on the nose and grins back.
I flip her on her back, pinning her arms as I sit on her thighs. She looks at my expressionless face with a mix of expectation and trepidation.
"Why is the sky blue? Why are they called blueberries when they're kinda purple? Why do they park on a driveway and drive on a parkway?"
Her eyes are as big as saucers as she shakes her head 'no'.
"If it's a pair of pants, is just one leg a pant? What's the difference between indigo and violet, aren't they both just purple? Why is it a pair of scissors when the parts don't look at all alike?"
She's struggling to get loose now, but I have the horsepower and mass advantage.
"Why do you always pick 'Enterprise is best carrier' as your safe word?"
"Never!" she snarls.
"Why does salt dissolve in water but pepper doesn't? Why does peppy mean happy, but salty means mad? If the e is silent why even have it? Why is a secretary someone who types, but a secretary is also a Cabinet position?"
------------------------------
Kirishima was glad she didn't have to drag Kongo and Hiei to Howe's apartment to apologize. Considering what he'd said to Akatsuki while the Kongos were in earshot, versus what he'd told Hood loud enough everyone in the repair baths clearly heard it, they'd gotten off very lucky.
Except he's got one more he can drop on us, Kirishima thought, 'I apologize for my racism, I expected better from Hood, but I never expected you to be civilized.'
She shuddered at the effect that would have on people if he dropped that one on the Kongo-sisters. Except Haruna, Kirishima thought, Maybe he knows where she is, she didn't come home last night.
The gentle knock on the door caused it to swing open. The trio entered and they glanced around. First was the blanket-wrapped lump on the sofa, the bottom of it was clearly Howe, but the top of Houshou's head resting on Howe's chest peaked out of the wrapping. Kirishima ordered the officer off the bridge who had started the calculation based on Houshou's head and length, of where was the rest of her in relation to Howe.
The second, was the obviously broken bed that had been stripped of sheets and blankets with the headboard laid atop the bed. Kirishima reached over and closed Kongo's and Hiei's mouths.
"Morning," Howe said from the couch.
"Zzzz," Houshou added.
Kongo was pointing at the bed asked, "Howe -?"
"Ballgags," Houshou said as she raised her head.
"Ohayo!" Haruna said as she entered and took the scene in, then called back over her shoulder, "Mushi-chan, tell them it's two beds not one."
"Yes, yes," Musashi said as she entered. Which of their hair, Musashi's or Haruna's, was more disheveled was questionable. The other three Kongos noted the many small bruises dotting her skin that Musashi's normal outfit revealed, and the two very large bruises covering her inner thighs. Then they saw the beatific smile gracing Haruna's face, and a quick check saw the same on Houshou's as she pillowed her head on Howe's chest.
Two and two were rapidly becoming four, when the open door framed a cartwheeling Shimakaze passing by.
"Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi," the destroyer said as she'd approached unseen, and continued past, the Doppler shift reinforcing her receding.
"Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." Came from the dozen destroyer escorts, escort carriers and destroyers chasing Shimakaze. They too receded if the Doppler shift was any indication.
Then their cries upshifted, and not entirely due to them approaching. "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." They shouted as they ran back the way they came in terror.
"Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi," the cartwheeling Shimakaze sang to the tune of the Imperial Death March from Star Wars as she chased down the flotilla.
The only sign of life from Kongo and Hiei were their blinking eyes as they stared out the door.
"POOOOOOOIIIIIIIIIIiiiiiiiii," Shimakaze called as she ran past the door in abject terror.
"Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." Came from the dozen destroyer escorts, escort carriers and destroyers cartwheeling after Shimakaze.
Yuudachi walked up to the doorway and peered in, she noted all that the Kongos had, but simply said, "I'm not with them, poi." And she left.
Kirishima waved a hand in front of Kongo's and Hiei's faces, adjusted her glasses to see Haruna snuggling against Musashi. She straightened herself and said, "My sisters and I wish to apologize for our unwelcome behavior, both after your arrival at Yokosuka, and here. We assure you that it will not happen again," she said, bowed, then elbowed Kongo.
"Poi!" Kongo said and bowed.
Kirishima then grabbed Kongo's and Hiei's elbows and practically dragged them out the door, pausing only to close it carefully behind her.
"What's eating her?" Musashi asked as she walked over to the bed, lifting it easily. "So, nightmares?" she asked.
"He said if I bit him again, he'd do something unspeakable to me," Houshou said as she carefully rolled off Howe, revealing her throat to ankle pajamas, "So I bit him, and we broke the bed."
"You could have used the safe word," Howe accused.
"I respect Enterprise, but she is NOT 'best carrier'," Houshou said and headed for the bathroom after fishing a package out of the great coat hung up beside the door.
"You mentioned nightmares," Howe said, climbed out off the sofa, and nodded to Musashi, "Bad ones."
"Not me," Musashi glanced at the blushing Haruna.
"I kind of gathered that. Tea, or coffee?" Howe said as the shower went on.
"Neither, thanks," Musashi said.
"Coffee, please," Haruna said, "Haruna forgot to tell you, the briefing and the training are off, in fact," she said and pulled her phone from her top, "Order of the day is 'If you need or are needed in a cuddlepile, please join one.' I think all four of us are needed."
"I don't understand," Howe said as he poured some hot instant with a bit of the cold from the pot, before refilling the pot to brew more. Haruna seemed to be savoring the aroma rather than planning to drink it.
"It didn't show up until too late to help them, but that attack should have had a psychological effect as bad as the physical. Allied air power is a bit of a nightmare for Axis ships," Musashi explained, "Although some of the Allies were shaken too."
"How so?" Howe asked, started the percolator, then darted into the bathroom as Houshou left it wearing her usual clothes.
"And I thought that was for me," Houshou shouted as Howe closed the door.
"Keep talking I can hear," Howe said.
"So can we," Haruna said and gestured for Musashi to wait until Howe had finished.
"Haruna watched four-engined bombers devastate Japan," she said from near the bathroom door, "Hiei and Kirishima were gone before that, and Kongo only saw the beginning. So it was partly watching your country under attack, rather than the ship personally being under attack. Musashi and I were sunk by carrier air."
Howe exited after washing his hands. "Tirpitz must be a mess then."
"Duke gathered up Prince, and with Bismarck and a bunch of British cruisers cuddled around Scharnhorst, Tirpitz and both Princes," Haruna said.
"It didn't affect us yesterday," Howe said.
"Yes it did," Musashi said, "Victorious should have been leading the action. But when her plane sent back that photo, she managed to text it out, then she spotted what you did. Suddenly the 'armored carrier master race' panicked a little at the possibility of her protection suddenly becoming a detriment. Enterprise saw it, and told her 'Robin, I'm senior, I'll take it.' Victorious, Illustrious and Indomitable just nodded. Enterprise was used to taking hits wasn't as rattled as the three, who knew what a Grand Slam could actually do to a warship."
"Haruna watched Japan die to such raids, and couldn't help," she said, "But Musashi held me and told me over and over that she was there, we were protecting Japan." The battlecruiser blushed. "Haruna flailed a lot when the nightmares started, but Musashi held me tight."
"That was one reason I kept the attack and torpedo squadrons airborne," Houshou said, "Even if they didn't have enough guns, they'd ram an attacker." She nodded to Howe. "You were a reassurance too, you and that cannon of yours coolly reloading and firing like you were hunting ducks or something."
"Doesn't do to show fear, even if you do feel it," Howe admitted, "Besides, I knew you and the destroyers wouldn't let anything through."
"So who needs us?" Houshou asked.
"Mushi-chan and Haruna are going to help Nagato and Mutsu," Haruna said, "Haruna suggests you collect the Poi-force and see to the destroyers, and especially the U-boats, their pens, where they used to feel safe, were the main targets of those bombs."
Howe and Houshou nodded.
------------------------------
As they looked up at the tree the skittish speed-demon was hanging from. Yuudachi stared up. "So what if we can cartwheel faster that you, poi?"
"I'm the fastest! That's me!" Shimakaze sobbed and hugged the tree.
Armidale picked up a plastic traffic cone, put it on her head and shouted, "Time for special night training!"
"That's Naka doing a Sendai," Curtatone said, receiving a frown from Armidale.
"I can't even cartwheel on dry land!" Shimakaze said.
Lupo and Dennis climbed the tree and peeled the sobbing destroyer loose, lowering her to Yuudachi and Gambier Bay.
"It would never have worked you know," Gambier Bay said as the other carriers of Taffy 3 joined the group. "No one would have believed Yuudachi had beaten me up."
"I can cartwheel," Yuudachi said, "Unless you were going to pound her into poi."
"Maybe she's transporting her across provincial lines for immoral poi-pesses," Kitkun Bay suggested.
Yuudachi frowned. "These jokes are pure -"
"Poi-son," Lupo suggested.
"Drek," Yuudachi said as they walked onto a brightly lit portion of the drill field. "I watched Howe and Houshou-san practice during lunch. This is how they did it." She leaned over and sort of side hopped with her hands and feet on the ground. "Then this." She raised her hands and dropped on them when she hopped her legs over. "But they sort of fell over after three or four cartwheels."
"They tricked us?" Fanshaw Bay asked.
"Poi," Shimakaze moaned.
"It's poi, not poi," Yuudachi said, "Like In sha'Allah, but without the overhasty urgency."
Shimakaze stared at Yuudachi for a bit, then let Lupo and Curtatone help her through the babysteps to cartwheels.
------------------------------
I had my shower and had changed into my pajamas. The debrief wasn't early but it would seem so after the excitement and eating of the day. The late-night knock on the door confused me. I open the door to Houshou wearing a great coat that is obviously for someone much taller.
"Is there trouble?" I ask, I can't imagine what else could go wrong without alarms over the radio, as I step aside to let her in, I glance outside to no obvious fires, searchlights or screaming masses.
"Sort of," she says as she turns down the bed and gives me a sultry look over her shoulder.
I'll admit, I'm slow, but the reality hits me a moment before she lets the coat slide to the floor. She's obviously enjoying my near panicked reaction.
The shirt and slacks pajamas she's wearing cover her from throat past her ankles, similar to mine. They aren't baggy, but even Musashi could wear them comfortably.
"Heart trouble," I admit as orders to the boilers cancel ramming speed. Houshou laughing about it helps with that, but she still climbs into bed and pats the mattress beside her. I sit on the bed beside her. "I know this is pushing things, but after a few overheard conversations at the party."
"I've been hearing similar for months, in four languages, and nothing came of it," I admit, "I was thinking I'd gotten the translation wrong. While I understand the need to mark your territory, and I appreciate the offer, it is too far. You met me a few days ago."
"Well, if you won't ravish me, how about a cuddle?" Her smile falters. "I'm lonely, we're adults and wasn't bundling still a thing in your time?"
"So the assumption and gossip is good enough?" I ask, when she nods, I continue, "Okay I can deal with that." I straighten out as I lie beside her. "You shouldn't worry too much about their talk."
She snuggles into the crook of my arm, using my shoulder as a pillow. Her look is as good as a question mark.
"The Iowas have talked about 'getting a notch' for four months, and nothing. I'll take someone who will actually talk to me over anyone who won't. I had seventeen carriers ready to defend your honor in absentia, yet none of them would speak aloud."
"So the plain one is better than the beauties?" she asks.
"Do not fret that you are just pleasant and cannot be as gorgeous as I am," I say, "As a god among ships I sprinkle some vain hope to those plebeians who will never be truly stunning themselves."
Houshou sits up, then leans in and bites me on the neck.
"My conning tower is well armored, and you said you didn't bite," I say.
"Yah weh sa dizpointd," she says.
"Anyway, about the Iowas, and Mutsu, and Akagi, and Takao, and Atago," I say and she growls in mock anger, "They had their chance, and they took a vow of silence, so I'll treat them as the nuns they are."
Now she releases because she's laughing.
"Although I still don't understand Ayanami's comment that to drive them away, I should act like an uppercrust prince, then she showed me a picture of a weird, white horse," I say, "Of course that's fair, she doesn't understand when I ask her where Shinji is."
Houshou's laughter is masked by the fact she's practically burrowing into my armpit.
"So I'm not exactly eager to add Tone, Suzuya and Kumano to our group. They too had their chance and were part of the wall of silence," I say, "Now Haruna and Musashi . . . "
She raises her head growling and baring her teeth.
"If you bite me," I warn, "I'll do something unspeakable to you." I give her an all teeth-showing grin.
She bites me gently on the nose and grins back.
I flip her on her back, pinning her arms as I sit on her thighs. She looks at my expressionless face with a mix of expectation and trepidation.
"Why is the sky blue? Why are they called blueberries when they're kinda purple? Why do they park on a driveway and drive on a parkway?"
Her eyes are as big as saucers as she shakes her head 'no'.
"If it's a pair of pants, is just one leg a pant? What's the difference between indigo and violet, aren't they both just purple? Why is it a pair of scissors when the parts don't look at all alike?"
She's struggling to get loose now, but I have the horsepower and mass advantage.
"Why do you always pick 'Enterprise is best carrier' as your safe word?"
"Never!" she snarls.
"Why does salt dissolve in water but pepper doesn't? Why does peppy mean happy, but salty means mad? If the e is silent why even have it? Why is a secretary someone who types, but a secretary is also a Cabinet position?"
------------------------------
Kirishima was glad she didn't have to drag Kongo and Hiei to Howe's apartment to apologize. Considering what he'd said to Akatsuki while the Kongos were in earshot, versus what he'd told Hood loud enough everyone in the repair baths clearly heard it, they'd gotten off very lucky.
Except he's got one more he can drop on us, Kirishima thought, 'I apologize for my racism, I expected better from Hood, but I never expected you to be civilized.'
She shuddered at the effect that would have on people if he dropped that one on the Kongo-sisters. Except Haruna, Kirishima thought, Maybe he knows where she is, she didn't come home last night.
The gentle knock on the door caused it to swing open. The trio entered and they glanced around. First was the blanket-wrapped lump on the sofa, the bottom of it was clearly Howe, but the top of Houshou's head resting on Howe's chest peaked out of the wrapping. Kirishima ordered the officer off the bridge who had started the calculation based on Houshou's head and length, of where was the rest of her in relation to Howe.
The second, was the obviously broken bed that had been stripped of sheets and blankets with the headboard laid atop the bed. Kirishima reached over and closed Kongo's and Hiei's mouths.
"Morning," Howe said from the couch.
"Zzzz," Houshou added.
Kongo was pointing at the bed asked, "Howe -?"
"Ballgags," Houshou said as she raised her head.
"Ohayo!" Haruna said as she entered and took the scene in, then called back over her shoulder, "Mushi-chan, tell them it's two beds not one."
"Yes, yes," Musashi said as she entered. Which of their hair, Musashi's or Haruna's, was more disheveled was questionable. The other three Kongos noted the many small bruises dotting her skin that Musashi's normal outfit revealed, and the two very large bruises covering her inner thighs. Then they saw the beatific smile gracing Haruna's face, and a quick check saw the same on Houshou's as she pillowed her head on Howe's chest.
Two and two were rapidly becoming four, when the open door framed a cartwheeling Shimakaze passing by.
"Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi," the destroyer said as she'd approached unseen, and continued past, the Doppler shift reinforcing her receding.
"Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." Came from the dozen destroyer escorts, escort carriers and destroyers chasing Shimakaze. They too receded if the Doppler shift was any indication.
Then their cries upshifted, and not entirely due to them approaching. "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." They shouted as they ran back the way they came in terror.
"Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi. Poi," the cartwheeling Shimakaze sang to the tune of the Imperial Death March from Star Wars as she chased down the flotilla.
The only sign of life from Kongo and Hiei were their blinking eyes as they stared out the door.
"POOOOOOOIIIIIIIIIIiiiiiiiii," Shimakaze called as she ran past the door in abject terror.
"Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." "Poi." Came from the dozen destroyer escorts, escort carriers and destroyers cartwheeling after Shimakaze.
Yuudachi walked up to the doorway and peered in, she noted all that the Kongos had, but simply said, "I'm not with them, poi." And she left.
Kirishima waved a hand in front of Kongo's and Hiei's faces, adjusted her glasses to see Haruna snuggling against Musashi. She straightened herself and said, "My sisters and I wish to apologize for our unwelcome behavior, both after your arrival at Yokosuka, and here. We assure you that it will not happen again," she said, bowed, then elbowed Kongo.
"Poi!" Kongo said and bowed.
Kirishima then grabbed Kongo's and Hiei's elbows and practically dragged them out the door, pausing only to close it carefully behind her.
"What's eating her?" Musashi asked as she walked over to the bed, lifting it easily. "So, nightmares?" she asked.
"He said if I bit him again, he'd do something unspeakable to me," Houshou said as she carefully rolled off Howe, revealing her throat to ankle pajamas, "So I bit him, and we broke the bed."
"You could have used the safe word," Howe accused.
"I respect Enterprise, but she is NOT 'best carrier'," Houshou said and headed for the bathroom after fishing a package out of the great coat hung up beside the door.
"You mentioned nightmares," Howe said, climbed out off the sofa, and nodded to Musashi, "Bad ones."
"Not me," Musashi glanced at the blushing Haruna.
"I kind of gathered that. Tea, or coffee?" Howe said as the shower went on.
"Neither, thanks," Musashi said.
"Coffee, please," Haruna said, "Haruna forgot to tell you, the briefing and the training are off, in fact," she said and pulled her phone from her top, "Order of the day is 'If you need or are needed in a cuddlepile, please join one.' I think all four of us are needed."
"I don't understand," Howe said as he poured some hot instant with a bit of the cold from the pot, before refilling the pot to brew more. Haruna seemed to be savoring the aroma rather than planning to drink it.
"It didn't show up until too late to help them, but that attack should have had a psychological effect as bad as the physical. Allied air power is a bit of a nightmare for Axis ships," Musashi explained, "Although some of the Allies were shaken too."
"How so?" Howe asked, started the percolator, then darted into the bathroom as Houshou left it wearing her usual clothes.
"And I thought that was for me," Houshou shouted as Howe closed the door.
"Keep talking I can hear," Howe said.
"So can we," Haruna said and gestured for Musashi to wait until Howe had finished.
"Haruna watched four-engined bombers devastate Japan," she said from near the bathroom door, "Hiei and Kirishima were gone before that, and Kongo only saw the beginning. So it was partly watching your country under attack, rather than the ship personally being under attack. Musashi and I were sunk by carrier air."
Howe exited after washing his hands. "Tirpitz must be a mess then."
"Duke gathered up Prince, and with Bismarck and a bunch of British cruisers cuddled around Scharnhorst, Tirpitz and both Princes," Haruna said.
"It didn't affect us yesterday," Howe said.
"Yes it did," Musashi said, "Victorious should have been leading the action. But when her plane sent back that photo, she managed to text it out, then she spotted what you did. Suddenly the 'armored carrier master race' panicked a little at the possibility of her protection suddenly becoming a detriment. Enterprise saw it, and told her 'Robin, I'm senior, I'll take it.' Victorious, Illustrious and Indomitable just nodded. Enterprise was used to taking hits wasn't as rattled as the three, who knew what a Grand Slam could actually do to a warship."
"Haruna watched Japan die to such raids, and couldn't help," she said, "But Musashi held me and told me over and over that she was there, we were protecting Japan." The battlecruiser blushed. "Haruna flailed a lot when the nightmares started, but Musashi held me tight."
"That was one reason I kept the attack and torpedo squadrons airborne," Houshou said, "Even if they didn't have enough guns, they'd ram an attacker." She nodded to Howe. "You were a reassurance too, you and that cannon of yours coolly reloading and firing like you were hunting ducks or something."
"Doesn't do to show fear, even if you do feel it," Howe admitted, "Besides, I knew you and the destroyers wouldn't let anything through."
"So who needs us?" Houshou asked.
"Mushi-chan and Haruna are going to help Nagato and Mutsu," Haruna said, "Haruna suggests you collect the Poi-force and see to the destroyers, and especially the U-boats, their pens, where they used to feel safe, were the main targets of those bombs."
Howe and Houshou nodded.
------------------------------
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Plans Come Together
The arrival of 'Poi-Force' with ice cream, hot soup and many cuddles dealt with a lot of the anxious subs who were at once hunkered down, and fearful of their pen. They'd led them outside for a picnic, and with aircraft doing acrobatics, touch and goes, and maintaining a cap, the subs lay snuggled up against a capital ship, with each other or with a friendly DE or DD. Bellies full, blankets and comrades wrapped around them, the subs slept peacefully in the warm sun.
Houshou and Howe were nearly covered in torpid subs as they watched the skies, `coordinated the aircover`, and held hands. Until lunch, then they led their charges to the mess hall. The odd flotillas assembled there were noteworthy. Haruna and Musashi were with Yamato, Nagato and Mutsu; Duke led Prince and most of the Kriegsmarine surface fleet; the Iowas had the bulk of the IJN cruisers fleet. The carriers of all stripes had massed and had a large compliment of destroyers, which was escorting, supporting which varied from ship to ship.
Enterprise sent a lamp signal that she, Hornet and the four Midway victims were keeping up a large scouting force 'training' the IJN carriers to scout with their Zeros. A polite fiction that still alleviated the fear in the minds of many other ships. If The Big E could match the entire IJN, she could organize a solid defense against a thousand plane raid.
After lunch, Houshou loaded up on ice cream from the US capital ships. She took half of their entourage to give ice cream to the radar picket destroyers, while Howe took the other half to deliver to the radar pickets in the direction the raid had come.
By nightfall, most of the agitation and anxiety weren't gone, but were back to manageable levels. As Houshou and Howe unsuccessfully tried to drop off the subs, who weren't leaving the pair under any circumstances, they nearly tugged each other off their feet as they tried to draw the other towards their quarters.
"Uh, you don't have a bed," Houshou teased, "Remember?"
Howe looked at the assembled DDs, CVEs, DEs and SSs. "I think that's rather the advantage," he replied.
"Okay, we'll strip my mattress and bedding, then congregate in your room," Houshou said.
"YAY!" the assembled force said, then led by Johnston, "Forward to victory!"
Houshou chuckled at that. Several of the US subs took some of Poi-Force and raced ahead. Predictably, Houshou's locked door was wide open, Yuudachi and Dennis posted as guards.
"Poi!" "Poi!" They snapped to attention and saluted. Inside they had the bed stripped, and a suitcase provided with a change of clothes, some toiletries and several packages of tea for Houshou. Houshou's first clue was the mattress and bedding was nowhere to be seen.
The mattress somehow enveloping her and Howe, then lifting them off their feet confirmed the plan. Howe snorted at her growing concern, he wrapped his arms around her, she snuggled against him, letting the Subs and Destroyers fold the mattress so they could get it out the door with the pair on it.
Like a bizarre parade float, the small ships carried them triumphantly through the night to Howes' apartment.
"Anyone who sings tunes from Aladdin will be fed to Disney's lawyers," Howe warned and ignored the disappointed noises from those moving their magic carpet.
Howe's likewise previously locked door stood open with guards posted. Shimakaze and Gambier Bay this time. They didn't Poi, but closed the door after everyone had squeezed into the apartment. The small ships' had their own small packages of clothes, toiletries and such piled into the closet or laid as flooring in the kitchen. Howe was shuttled into the bathroom to change, while everyone else changed into their pajamas in the living room. Then they used the bathroom in waves. Those who'd gone first settled in closer to Howe and Houshou, the others accreting around them.
Eventually, face buried in his chest, Houshou felt sleep's inexorable call and she answered it.
I wonder what the social media posts will be like, she thought idly, Some ships are going to lose their trim after this. She would have loved to see all the outside pictures of the date, the picnic and the parade. But that's an absurd thought, she thought. She held his hand while small boats snuggled against them from all sides.
------------------------------
Morning brought another change in orders. The Kriegsmarine and much of the Royal Navy were headed to the North Atlantic by plane, while we were to sail home right through Truk Princess' territory. A reconnaissance-in-force in five columns it was being called. My concerns about being too clever by half are resurfacing. But they want to destroy the remainder of the Truk forces. No other princess so extensively used land-based attack craft, whether you call them a B-25 or a PBJ they are still bigger than carrier-based aircraft with greater payloads and range. To say the various politicians were doing somersaults about the possibility of thousand or even hundred plane raids on ship-girls or cities is an understatement. They wanted the survivors of Truk annihilated.
Houshou and I, as well as Haruna and Musashi were to be the core of one force, with several more light carriers, said force being towards the west and not so incidently the most likely place for the Truk survivors to have fled to.
Hiei, Washington and South Dakota are on the extreme eastward, with Enterprise and Missouri with them, Fubuki is commanding. I have to wonder if this is a disciplinary posting for the destroyer, with the two famed ships to separate fights. Our heavy covering force/adjacent column is the bulk of the torpedo heavy cruisers stiffened by Kongo, Kirishima, Nagato and Mutsu. The center are Yamato and the remaining Iowas escorting nearly all the other heavy carriers. The fourth column are the remaining US fast battleships, Kaga and Zuikaku and all the torpedoless cruisers. The clear indication is that my force is to be active reconnaissance and bait, while the eastern elements are either not engaged or to mop up survivors.
"If they hit the other side," I say to Houshou, "It will be a disaster."
She nods. "Tone and a few other scout cruisers should be over there, the US ships carry spotter planes not as trained in scouting."
She goes off to confer with the other light and escort carriers about launching to cover our opposite flank. They talk, staying off the radio. It seems odd that the center column alone is not on radio silence. Houshou returns with an operational plan, then launches a plane to carry the plans to Akagi who is commanding the entire force. The niggling fear that we're missing something continues to rear its ugly head.
Fortunately, I'm wrong about the direction, and right about the unexpected.
"Subs in the water," comes from Fanshaw Bay, "Request support." She gives the coordinates miles ahead of us and slightly off to port. Several steel-hull subs have been escorting us, as well as acting as fast transport for the sub-girls, racing ahead to release them to sanitize the area, racing back to pick up another group guarding our rear, then racing those ahead. We knew they were going to be there, but not that they would be shuttling the slower sub-girls back and forth. I'm glad someone came up with the idea.
I load flechette into my fowling piece, order all ships to set extra lookouts, we are already zigzagging. I dispatch Poi-force to assist the carrier planes. "Ryujo, Tone, increase patrols to our rear, the Abyss seems to love the one-two punch."
The light carrier launches unladen torpedo bombers as scouts while her remaining dive bombers with depth charges stand by. The cruiser puts additional scouts in the air.
We have been listening to the one-sided battle up north-northwest as the carriers and Poi-force score kill after kill, when Ryujo's scouts report, "Many planes inbound, single-engined."
They are coming from directly behind us.
Here we see why Akagi may not be best carrier, but is our best tactician. The plan is as complicated as too many IJ military plans are, but at the tactical level it works. With more heavy carriers than the vaunted US 3rd/5th Fleet, she has the planes to perform the trap.
The Zero has a superb range, which means it has a superb loiter time, so 10 squadrons of Zeros were standing by in the air, massed to launch a heavy attack. They are now on their way.
Now we wait, Houshou and I exchange smiles as we maintain our vigilance in all other directions.
The formation of Abyssal aircraft receives a slashing US-style attack, the Zeros clawing through the formation, diving and then pulling to a higher altitude to make another attack run. The Abyssal escorts pursue the force as they try to protect their bombers.
You know what else has superb range? Corsairs with drop tanks. They could have escorted the bomber streams all the way to Berlin and back in late 1942 if the RAF and USAAC hadn't turned their nose up at a 'Navy' fighter. With the escorts trying to catch the finest pilots of the Kido Butai, Halsey and Spruance's veterans fall on the bombers. Radio transmissions and Abyssal screams over the frequencies describe a one-sided slaughter. The bombers are annihilated, the threat eliminated.
Here is Akagi's brilliance and sadly, only her own pilots could follow such an order so rigorously. She lets the fighter escorts escape. Why? A few of her very best begin trailing them. Where does a frightened and wounded animal flee? Back home.
The strike package was launched during the intercept and slaughter. Nearly every plane from the 'strike' carriers that can be sent airborne has massed and heads south, waiting for the signal of where the base or carriers are.
And Akagi hasn't been idle in another course. Those subs that have been shuttling the sub-girls back and forth? Where do you think they're headed now? With a full load of sub-girls. Carriers have to think in three dimensions. Akagi just augmented altitude to include negative numbers, and some of those subs were on the rearward leg of the shuttle run already. They just head further south instead of heading north.
She also hasn't forgotten the gunfire option, I and the Iowas are headed south at our best speed. Bagley and Blue are my escorts. The Kongos are less well-armored and there's still the possibility that the enemy will launch a three or more pronged attack. Houshou's light and escort carriers and Shinano with the central force are maintaining spotting and a fighter cap, soon to be reinforced by the returning Corsairs and Zeros not tasked as bloodhounds.
"Five, repeat five enemy carriers, Re-class," Akagi's fairies report. Actually they report 'Desu! DESU!! Desu, desu. DESU!!' But I mentally cut out all the profanity. They are young and excited.
I wish I had radar, I thought, I would love to see this as it unfolds.
The airwaves are filled with the calm orders as rocket-armed fighters go in first to suppress the anti-air, and the remaining cap. There are losses of course, but the massed torpedo and dive-bomber attacks go in, coordinated as only these veterans can. But the frantic maneuvers and desperate fire is only part of the equation.
I grin savagely at the next part, as I'd helped with it during our lazy picnic.
Modern torpedoes can't lock onto Abyssals, but the Mark 48 ADCAP and Spearfish are wire-guided. What happens when you have someone who can see the target giving direction instructions? While the cacophony of four sub-girls yelling into the depths as bombs and torpedoes explode in the background sounds like a recipe for failure, there's a little nuance I am proud to have supplied. If a person is listening for specific words, they can cut out the rest as white noise. So one sub-girl team speaks English, another Japanese, a third Russian and the fourth Spanish. Someone listening for 'left', is going to ignore 'izquierda'. The Mk48's and Spearfish are as powerful as the Type 95's and they will chase.
A single Re-class is a serious fleet enemy, five are a nightmare beyond reason and five with many escorts might as well be labeled 'Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter Here'. But all involved have and will do their duty.
"Damn!" New Jersey sends, "Missed it AGAIN!" Likewise I mentally edit the profanity.
None of the enemy survived for us to sight the smoke, let alone bring them under fire, and this time they have photo recon verifying all the dead. "We're still in position to pick up those who ditch," I send back and continue heading south to get under the returning stream.
Isn't Akagi worried her trick can be repeated? No, the Zeros and Corsairs of the ambush are sanitizing our tail of enemy scout planes.
And the sub attack up north was also a one-sided slaughter, the escort carriers, subs and DDs having coursed the enemy to oblivion. Akagi deserves all the acclamations she is receiving.
Houshou and Howe were nearly covered in torpid subs as they watched the skies, `coordinated the aircover`, and held hands. Until lunch, then they led their charges to the mess hall. The odd flotillas assembled there were noteworthy. Haruna and Musashi were with Yamato, Nagato and Mutsu; Duke led Prince and most of the Kriegsmarine surface fleet; the Iowas had the bulk of the IJN cruisers fleet. The carriers of all stripes had massed and had a large compliment of destroyers, which was escorting, supporting which varied from ship to ship.
Enterprise sent a lamp signal that she, Hornet and the four Midway victims were keeping up a large scouting force 'training' the IJN carriers to scout with their Zeros. A polite fiction that still alleviated the fear in the minds of many other ships. If The Big E could match the entire IJN, she could organize a solid defense against a thousand plane raid.
After lunch, Houshou loaded up on ice cream from the US capital ships. She took half of their entourage to give ice cream to the radar picket destroyers, while Howe took the other half to deliver to the radar pickets in the direction the raid had come.
By nightfall, most of the agitation and anxiety weren't gone, but were back to manageable levels. As Houshou and Howe unsuccessfully tried to drop off the subs, who weren't leaving the pair under any circumstances, they nearly tugged each other off their feet as they tried to draw the other towards their quarters.
"Uh, you don't have a bed," Houshou teased, "Remember?"
Howe looked at the assembled DDs, CVEs, DEs and SSs. "I think that's rather the advantage," he replied.
"Okay, we'll strip my mattress and bedding, then congregate in your room," Houshou said.
"YAY!" the assembled force said, then led by Johnston, "Forward to victory!"
Houshou chuckled at that. Several of the US subs took some of Poi-Force and raced ahead. Predictably, Houshou's locked door was wide open, Yuudachi and Dennis posted as guards.
"Poi!" "Poi!" They snapped to attention and saluted. Inside they had the bed stripped, and a suitcase provided with a change of clothes, some toiletries and several packages of tea for Houshou. Houshou's first clue was the mattress and bedding was nowhere to be seen.
The mattress somehow enveloping her and Howe, then lifting them off their feet confirmed the plan. Howe snorted at her growing concern, he wrapped his arms around her, she snuggled against him, letting the Subs and Destroyers fold the mattress so they could get it out the door with the pair on it.
Like a bizarre parade float, the small ships carried them triumphantly through the night to Howes' apartment.
"Anyone who sings tunes from Aladdin will be fed to Disney's lawyers," Howe warned and ignored the disappointed noises from those moving their magic carpet.
Howe's likewise previously locked door stood open with guards posted. Shimakaze and Gambier Bay this time. They didn't Poi, but closed the door after everyone had squeezed into the apartment. The small ships' had their own small packages of clothes, toiletries and such piled into the closet or laid as flooring in the kitchen. Howe was shuttled into the bathroom to change, while everyone else changed into their pajamas in the living room. Then they used the bathroom in waves. Those who'd gone first settled in closer to Howe and Houshou, the others accreting around them.
Eventually, face buried in his chest, Houshou felt sleep's inexorable call and she answered it.
I wonder what the social media posts will be like, she thought idly, Some ships are going to lose their trim after this. She would have loved to see all the outside pictures of the date, the picnic and the parade. But that's an absurd thought, she thought. She held his hand while small boats snuggled against them from all sides.
------------------------------
Morning brought another change in orders. The Kriegsmarine and much of the Royal Navy were headed to the North Atlantic by plane, while we were to sail home right through Truk Princess' territory. A reconnaissance-in-force in five columns it was being called. My concerns about being too clever by half are resurfacing. But they want to destroy the remainder of the Truk forces. No other princess so extensively used land-based attack craft, whether you call them a B-25 or a PBJ they are still bigger than carrier-based aircraft with greater payloads and range. To say the various politicians were doing somersaults about the possibility of thousand or even hundred plane raids on ship-girls or cities is an understatement. They wanted the survivors of Truk annihilated.
Houshou and I, as well as Haruna and Musashi were to be the core of one force, with several more light carriers, said force being towards the west and not so incidently the most likely place for the Truk survivors to have fled to.
Hiei, Washington and South Dakota are on the extreme eastward, with Enterprise and Missouri with them, Fubuki is commanding. I have to wonder if this is a disciplinary posting for the destroyer, with the two famed ships to separate fights. Our heavy covering force/adjacent column is the bulk of the torpedo heavy cruisers stiffened by Kongo, Kirishima, Nagato and Mutsu. The center are Yamato and the remaining Iowas escorting nearly all the other heavy carriers. The fourth column are the remaining US fast battleships, Kaga and Zuikaku and all the torpedoless cruisers. The clear indication is that my force is to be active reconnaissance and bait, while the eastern elements are either not engaged or to mop up survivors.
"If they hit the other side," I say to Houshou, "It will be a disaster."
She nods. "Tone and a few other scout cruisers should be over there, the US ships carry spotter planes not as trained in scouting."
She goes off to confer with the other light and escort carriers about launching to cover our opposite flank. They talk, staying off the radio. It seems odd that the center column alone is not on radio silence. Houshou returns with an operational plan, then launches a plane to carry the plans to Akagi who is commanding the entire force. The niggling fear that we're missing something continues to rear its ugly head.
Fortunately, I'm wrong about the direction, and right about the unexpected.
"Subs in the water," comes from Fanshaw Bay, "Request support." She gives the coordinates miles ahead of us and slightly off to port. Several steel-hull subs have been escorting us, as well as acting as fast transport for the sub-girls, racing ahead to release them to sanitize the area, racing back to pick up another group guarding our rear, then racing those ahead. We knew they were going to be there, but not that they would be shuttling the slower sub-girls back and forth. I'm glad someone came up with the idea.
I load flechette into my fowling piece, order all ships to set extra lookouts, we are already zigzagging. I dispatch Poi-force to assist the carrier planes. "Ryujo, Tone, increase patrols to our rear, the Abyss seems to love the one-two punch."
The light carrier launches unladen torpedo bombers as scouts while her remaining dive bombers with depth charges stand by. The cruiser puts additional scouts in the air.
We have been listening to the one-sided battle up north-northwest as the carriers and Poi-force score kill after kill, when Ryujo's scouts report, "Many planes inbound, single-engined."
They are coming from directly behind us.
Here we see why Akagi may not be best carrier, but is our best tactician. The plan is as complicated as too many IJ military plans are, but at the tactical level it works. With more heavy carriers than the vaunted US 3rd/5th Fleet, she has the planes to perform the trap.
The Zero has a superb range, which means it has a superb loiter time, so 10 squadrons of Zeros were standing by in the air, massed to launch a heavy attack. They are now on their way.
Now we wait, Houshou and I exchange smiles as we maintain our vigilance in all other directions.
The formation of Abyssal aircraft receives a slashing US-style attack, the Zeros clawing through the formation, diving and then pulling to a higher altitude to make another attack run. The Abyssal escorts pursue the force as they try to protect their bombers.
You know what else has superb range? Corsairs with drop tanks. They could have escorted the bomber streams all the way to Berlin and back in late 1942 if the RAF and USAAC hadn't turned their nose up at a 'Navy' fighter. With the escorts trying to catch the finest pilots of the Kido Butai, Halsey and Spruance's veterans fall on the bombers. Radio transmissions and Abyssal screams over the frequencies describe a one-sided slaughter. The bombers are annihilated, the threat eliminated.
Here is Akagi's brilliance and sadly, only her own pilots could follow such an order so rigorously. She lets the fighter escorts escape. Why? A few of her very best begin trailing them. Where does a frightened and wounded animal flee? Back home.
The strike package was launched during the intercept and slaughter. Nearly every plane from the 'strike' carriers that can be sent airborne has massed and heads south, waiting for the signal of where the base or carriers are.
And Akagi hasn't been idle in another course. Those subs that have been shuttling the sub-girls back and forth? Where do you think they're headed now? With a full load of sub-girls. Carriers have to think in three dimensions. Akagi just augmented altitude to include negative numbers, and some of those subs were on the rearward leg of the shuttle run already. They just head further south instead of heading north.
She also hasn't forgotten the gunfire option, I and the Iowas are headed south at our best speed. Bagley and Blue are my escorts. The Kongos are less well-armored and there's still the possibility that the enemy will launch a three or more pronged attack. Houshou's light and escort carriers and Shinano with the central force are maintaining spotting and a fighter cap, soon to be reinforced by the returning Corsairs and Zeros not tasked as bloodhounds.
"Five, repeat five enemy carriers, Re-class," Akagi's fairies report. Actually they report 'Desu! DESU!! Desu, desu. DESU!!' But I mentally cut out all the profanity. They are young and excited.
I wish I had radar, I thought, I would love to see this as it unfolds.
The airwaves are filled with the calm orders as rocket-armed fighters go in first to suppress the anti-air, and the remaining cap. There are losses of course, but the massed torpedo and dive-bomber attacks go in, coordinated as only these veterans can. But the frantic maneuvers and desperate fire is only part of the equation.
I grin savagely at the next part, as I'd helped with it during our lazy picnic.
Modern torpedoes can't lock onto Abyssals, but the Mark 48 ADCAP and Spearfish are wire-guided. What happens when you have someone who can see the target giving direction instructions? While the cacophony of four sub-girls yelling into the depths as bombs and torpedoes explode in the background sounds like a recipe for failure, there's a little nuance I am proud to have supplied. If a person is listening for specific words, they can cut out the rest as white noise. So one sub-girl team speaks English, another Japanese, a third Russian and the fourth Spanish. Someone listening for 'left', is going to ignore 'izquierda'. The Mk48's and Spearfish are as powerful as the Type 95's and they will chase.
A single Re-class is a serious fleet enemy, five are a nightmare beyond reason and five with many escorts might as well be labeled 'Abandon All Hope Ye Who Enter Here'. But all involved have and will do their duty.
"Damn!" New Jersey sends, "Missed it AGAIN!" Likewise I mentally edit the profanity.
None of the enemy survived for us to sight the smoke, let alone bring them under fire, and this time they have photo recon verifying all the dead. "We're still in position to pick up those who ditch," I send back and continue heading south to get under the returning stream.
Isn't Akagi worried her trick can be repeated? No, the Zeros and Corsairs of the ambush are sanitizing our tail of enemy scout planes.
And the sub attack up north was also a one-sided slaughter, the escort carriers, subs and DDs having coursed the enemy to oblivion. Akagi deserves all the acclamations she is receiving.
Operation: Fun Date
Akagi looks over at Houshou. The motherly carrier pats the heavy on the arm. "I'll take your debt, I know that Howe will demand something," Houshou says theatrically, "I hope it won't be unspeakable, but you'll have your pilots back."
The shocked IJN carriers look at each other nervously.
I wish I had a handlebar moustache to twirl as they receive their pilots back from the battleships and their escorts. Ice cream is paid by we battlewagons, the US Carriers have already cut a deal. The IJN cruisers are even more nervous.
"Little One, never send away your entire ice cream supply," I say, "Nyayha ha." I throw an arm around Houshou's slumped shoulders as we head back towards our patrol stations.
Our destroyer escorts may be excitable, little girls, but they know the value of security in an operation. They don't start laughing until we're well out of Akagi's hearing range.
"Did you see her face?" Bagley asks. Yuudachi nods and gives an exaggerated version of it.
"What should we tell them he did?" Blue asks.
"Strip Poker?" Akatsuki offers, "I'm trying to think unladylike thoughts, it's hard."
"More like Strip Mahjong," Hoel says, "But that's too predictable."
"How about just another date?" Johnston suggests, "With Haruna and Musashi as chaperones."
Heerman grabs her by the collar, "Who are you and what have you done with Johnston?"
"Come on, we all heard how Hiei practically screwed herself into the seabed looking for revenge that never was gonna happen. Same here, date, respectable place with chaperones, and can you imagine what their imaginations will turn it into. Then, the order is take-out and the four of them have a late night picnic."
"They'd have fortified the restaurant with every surveillance device known to man or Abyssals," Heerman says, warming to the idea, "And the four of them never show up."
"We just have to get Haruna and Musashi to sign up, and who's chaperoning then?" Yuudachi asks.
Houshou straightens up and smirks at me, she and I know that with dozens of destroyers around there will be teasing, but no consummation. Not that the others will believe.
"No one," Shimakaze says, "And if they see Haruna and Musashi, they'll assume . . . "
We all share a laugh about that.
"But we really need some old-timey words for picnic or walk in the park," Johnston says.
" 'Old-timey'?" Houshou asks an eyebrow raised and the fate of future treats for the Taffies hanging in the balance.
Johnston gulps and points to me and Kamikaze. "Yeah, old-timey," she says, "English terms for the Japanese destroyers and carriers, Japanese for the USN, that way we can repeat them, wail to the Heavens and the bigger ships will flip out,"
"Like arboreal perambulatation?" I ask.
Johnston stares. "That might almost work for the English-speakers."
------------------------------
The first step of the plan is to warn the Admiral. After all, it wouldn't do to not give him the chance to take advantage of the insanity.
Nagato and Mutsu are there, now that I know why they fall silent and keep looking away . . . no, it's not less bothersome, nor is it that the Admiral should have known and informed me. Courtesy, which the Japanese are supposed to hold in high regard, demanded no less. However, I am the better man, and I shall inform him.
"We are beginning an operation to distract from Musashi and Haruna's date," I tell him, Houshou at my side. "We'll be ordering from the Green Pelican, have a reservation for four, but having the subs collect take out. While Houshou and I keep the destroyers, small carriers and subs occupied `protecting` our privacy, the pair can just enjoy their time together. The destroyers will be spreading disinformation about the `unspeakable things` I'll be doing to Houshou, it might be an opportune time to enjoy some quiet time with Kongo, while you are officially staking out the restaurant."
Poor Mutsu looks like she's having a turbine failure, Nagato looks stern and in control. Can't have that. "You two can finally go on a date and no one will be the wiser," I tell Nagato, and I'm certain the nuke would have had a greater effect, but not by much.
"What 'unspeakable things' are you planning on, with the destroyers and subs underfoot?" Goto asks.
"Proper football," Houshou says in a voice from the grave.
To my disappointment, Goto is too calloused to react as Mutsu and Nagato are. He merely nods. "Approved, good luck."
Not even a thank you, how chivalry has fallen, I lament.
------------------------------
"They'll be doing aboriginal perturbations!" Akatsuki breathlessly told Ashigara. The faint cloud of steam rising from the cruiser a warning to others.
------------------------------
The Admiral had assembled the carriers and cruisers, he was a bit worried that none of the battleships were attending, but he suspected that Yamato, Nagato and Mutsu had taken Musashi and Haruna shopping. The lack of light carriers, destroyers and subs was easily explained, too risque.
"So we need a force to observe their apartments, the restaurant, and any vehicles they might use," Goto had the locations indicated on the map.
"I'll forbid Haruna from her date to give us another fast battleship," Kongo said.
He raised his head. "And tip them off?" Goto asked.
Kongo bowed her head to the Admiral's wisdom. "Remember, what they're doing isn't against the rules, until it is. And to intervene too early will tarnish Houshou's honor, make it seem like she was never going to pay the debt you piled on her," Goto said, and saw the shame on the face of every carrier.
"Second, no aircraft, that will also give the game away if vast swathes of the base were under patrol. It would also make people think an air raid was on," Goto explained.
"Third, don't discuss this save in the most sanitized terms with the destroyers and subs, they don't need to know," Goto said and glared at every ship, "I mean that."
He waited for verbal affirmations from everyone.
"I'll brief them myself," he told them. "Let's set up observation points, and get teams to operate them."
------------------------------
Heerman spread out the map. "Okay, this park is large enough for a soccer -"
"Football."
"Someone just volunteered to watch Kaga," Heerman said, ignored the wail of despair and continued, "Soccer match, of all the destroyers. Hoel, Fubuki and Hibiki have promised to run take out orders to the watchers, and the restaurant has been warned to have extra cooking staff. This hollow will let Howe and Houshou keep an eye on us, but they'll be invisible. Akatsuki will run their order out to them, and the Duckies will take the order to the destroyer dorms when Haruna and Musashi are ready."
"Why the destroyer dorms?" Vampire asked.
"It's the one place we know will be empty," Heerman said, "Think about it."
"Shouldn't we have one or two destroyers there to complain about the noise?" Ayanami asked.
"No, but that'll be a good rumor to start tomorrow morning," Heerman said and made a note.
"Ghost story, or we describe the source," Lupo asked.
"Ghost story, scared us out of the dorms," Armidale said. The others nodded sagely.
"All right, have we got the orders in for the restaurant?" Heerman asked, and marked off the list as she got nods from the food team.
------------------------------
The sun was setting as Kongo stared into the big eye binoculars as she scanned the area. Several of her fairies watched with night optics with a wider field of view. Both she and the Admiral were in civilian clothes better suited for such a stakeout.
"Ahh," Goto told her as he lounged beside her on the blanket, he held the morsel in his chopsticks until she took a bite. He ate a morsel himself and enjoyed the view.
------------------------------
Yamato watched the four head out in Haruna's car. Iowa pulled away in a delivery van a moment later.
"One vehicle, white van, left the complex, headed north," Yamato said. She tried not to giggle as the decoy would draw every pursuer, and the unassuming car headed towards the park.
She sighed as she thought of how beautiful her sister was in proper clothes for once. She wondered if she'd ever be as lucky as Houshou and Musashi, then frowned. I had my chance, she thought, And I'm still tongue-tied around Howe.
------------------------------
Iowa loomed over the cruisers while Tenryuu and Ashigara quailed. "Of course Yamato saw me leave, I was chasing them, and you've let them get away!" the battleship thundered, "Now move your cars before we really lose them!"
------------------------------
"We've reacquired," New Jersey said over the radio, "I think."
"An officer took Haruna's car and picked up a double date," Ryujo reported over the same net, "I say again, Haruna's car is a decoy, disregard."
"The first one who says 'I love it when a plan comes together' gets to walk home," Haruna said.
"I -" Houshou began.
"Alone," Haruna said.
"- wonder if the rain will hurt the rhubarb?" Houshou said.
"Not this late in the season," Howe replied.
"Love it on a salad, beautiful color," Musashi said.
Haruna sighed, "The color don't enter into it, it's still dead."
"It's pining for the fjords," Howe said.
"That's Swiss Chard," Haruna said.
"The Swiss have fjords?" Howe asked.
"And Chryslers," Musashi added.
------------------------------
Kongo tensed, sat up, then relaxed back against Goto. "It was just Akatsuki."
The Admiral heard the raucous football game in the park, and put his arms around Kongo's waist. "Maybe I could watch and let you enjoy the dessert."
Kongo bowed her head. "I must do my duty," she said but settled back against him. It was growing chilly, but her boilers had heat to keep him warm.
------------------------------
Kongo walked towards her room, she had enjoyed her time with the Admiral, but was horrified that Haruna, Musashi and more importantly Houshou and Howe had completely evaded every ship who'd been searching for them.
She blearily noted Yuudachi approaching, yawning and carrying a blanket and pillow over her shoulders.
"Shouldn't you be in bed?" Kongo asked, feeling the call of her own bed like a magnet.
Yuudachi shook her head, then glanced towards Shimakaze approaching, also carrying bedding and a pillow. "The destroyer dorms are haunted, poi," Yuudachi said.
"Haunted?" Kongo asked as she considered her usual costume, and her lack of spiritual powers.
"A couple hours before the game was over, Johnston when back to the dorms to get some stuff," Yuudachi said, "And she heard it, like someone walking around in old shoes. She ran back to the field."
"Yeah," Shimakaze said, "After the football game, we were headed home, and from the basement, we heard 'squeak, squeak, squeak', like Johnston said: someone walking around in old shoes."
"More like a bunch of mice trying to be a clock," Yuudachi said, " 'Squeak, squeak, squeak'. Poi."
" 'Squeak, squeak, squeak'?" Kongo asked and felt her eyebrow twitching, "Why didn't you ask Howe to explode, explore first?"
"No one's seen him all night," Yuudachi said, then her eyes went wide, "Do you think the ghost got him?"
"No!" Shimakaze said, "The Duckies said they were fine when she dropped off their dinner!" Shimakaze grabbed Yuudachi and they wailed, "The ghost got Mr. Howe and Houshou-san! 'Squeak, squeak, squeak', WAHHHAAAAAAA!!"
Kongo's eye twitch had gone into overdrive. They never left Howe's room, she thought, We've been had!
"It couldn't be a person walking around!" Yuudachi wailed, "It went on for four hours!"
Kongo's fingers started twitching. Four hours? she thought.
"Don't exaggerate, it wasn't that long," Shimakaze told her.
Kongo relaxed.
"It was three-and-a-half at most," Shimakaze said, " 'Squeak, squeak, squeak'."
"I'm sure they're fine, and I'm sure, come the morning that it won't be a ghost at all," she said through clenched teeth.
"Thank you, Kongo-san," Yuudachi said, and she and Shimakaze bowed.
As they moved off Kongo heard, 'She's just saying that, she knows they're doomed. 'Squeak, squeak, squeak'.' The two destroyers walked down the stairs.
Kongo carefully unlocked the door to her apartment, closed and locked it behind herself. Carefully picked up a pillow and put it over her face.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGGGGGGGHH!!"
------------------------------
Kirishima smelled a faint reek of burning feathers as she leaned Hiei against the wall and then fumbled for the lock to their apartment. The amount the pair had drunk would have sozzled a demigod, but Kirishima could just about function, as long as she ignored how the world kept lurching in random directions at inopportune times.
The sight of the room seemingly filled with floating feathers sobered her up, as the smell of burnt feathers assailed her nostrils. A few of the floating feathers still smoldered, but that paled to insignificance next to the sight of Kongo, seated, wearing a pillow with its center blasted out. The smoldering torque brought Kirishima no equanimity, as Kongo giggled and said, "Squeak, squeak, squeak," then giggled again.
"I don't care, I'm sleeping in Haruna's car," Hiei said and tugged Kirishima back into the corridor and down the stairs.
The shocked IJN carriers look at each other nervously.
I wish I had a handlebar moustache to twirl as they receive their pilots back from the battleships and their escorts. Ice cream is paid by we battlewagons, the US Carriers have already cut a deal. The IJN cruisers are even more nervous.
"Little One, never send away your entire ice cream supply," I say, "Nyayha ha." I throw an arm around Houshou's slumped shoulders as we head back towards our patrol stations.
Our destroyer escorts may be excitable, little girls, but they know the value of security in an operation. They don't start laughing until we're well out of Akagi's hearing range.
"Did you see her face?" Bagley asks. Yuudachi nods and gives an exaggerated version of it.
"What should we tell them he did?" Blue asks.
"Strip Poker?" Akatsuki offers, "I'm trying to think unladylike thoughts, it's hard."
"More like Strip Mahjong," Hoel says, "But that's too predictable."
"How about just another date?" Johnston suggests, "With Haruna and Musashi as chaperones."
Heerman grabs her by the collar, "Who are you and what have you done with Johnston?"
"Come on, we all heard how Hiei practically screwed herself into the seabed looking for revenge that never was gonna happen. Same here, date, respectable place with chaperones, and can you imagine what their imaginations will turn it into. Then, the order is take-out and the four of them have a late night picnic."
"They'd have fortified the restaurant with every surveillance device known to man or Abyssals," Heerman says, warming to the idea, "And the four of them never show up."
"We just have to get Haruna and Musashi to sign up, and who's chaperoning then?" Yuudachi asks.
Houshou straightens up and smirks at me, she and I know that with dozens of destroyers around there will be teasing, but no consummation. Not that the others will believe.
"No one," Shimakaze says, "And if they see Haruna and Musashi, they'll assume . . . "
We all share a laugh about that.
"But we really need some old-timey words for picnic or walk in the park," Johnston says.
" 'Old-timey'?" Houshou asks an eyebrow raised and the fate of future treats for the Taffies hanging in the balance.
Johnston gulps and points to me and Kamikaze. "Yeah, old-timey," she says, "English terms for the Japanese destroyers and carriers, Japanese for the USN, that way we can repeat them, wail to the Heavens and the bigger ships will flip out,"
"Like arboreal perambulatation?" I ask.
Johnston stares. "That might almost work for the English-speakers."
------------------------------
The first step of the plan is to warn the Admiral. After all, it wouldn't do to not give him the chance to take advantage of the insanity.
Nagato and Mutsu are there, now that I know why they fall silent and keep looking away . . . no, it's not less bothersome, nor is it that the Admiral should have known and informed me. Courtesy, which the Japanese are supposed to hold in high regard, demanded no less. However, I am the better man, and I shall inform him.
"We are beginning an operation to distract from Musashi and Haruna's date," I tell him, Houshou at my side. "We'll be ordering from the Green Pelican, have a reservation for four, but having the subs collect take out. While Houshou and I keep the destroyers, small carriers and subs occupied `protecting` our privacy, the pair can just enjoy their time together. The destroyers will be spreading disinformation about the `unspeakable things` I'll be doing to Houshou, it might be an opportune time to enjoy some quiet time with Kongo, while you are officially staking out the restaurant."
Poor Mutsu looks like she's having a turbine failure, Nagato looks stern and in control. Can't have that. "You two can finally go on a date and no one will be the wiser," I tell Nagato, and I'm certain the nuke would have had a greater effect, but not by much.
"What 'unspeakable things' are you planning on, with the destroyers and subs underfoot?" Goto asks.
"Proper football," Houshou says in a voice from the grave.
To my disappointment, Goto is too calloused to react as Mutsu and Nagato are. He merely nods. "Approved, good luck."
Not even a thank you, how chivalry has fallen, I lament.
------------------------------
"They'll be doing aboriginal perturbations!" Akatsuki breathlessly told Ashigara. The faint cloud of steam rising from the cruiser a warning to others.
------------------------------
The Admiral had assembled the carriers and cruisers, he was a bit worried that none of the battleships were attending, but he suspected that Yamato, Nagato and Mutsu had taken Musashi and Haruna shopping. The lack of light carriers, destroyers and subs was easily explained, too risque.
"So we need a force to observe their apartments, the restaurant, and any vehicles they might use," Goto had the locations indicated on the map.
"I'll forbid Haruna from her date to give us another fast battleship," Kongo said.
He raised his head. "And tip them off?" Goto asked.
Kongo bowed her head to the Admiral's wisdom. "Remember, what they're doing isn't against the rules, until it is. And to intervene too early will tarnish Houshou's honor, make it seem like she was never going to pay the debt you piled on her," Goto said, and saw the shame on the face of every carrier.
"Second, no aircraft, that will also give the game away if vast swathes of the base were under patrol. It would also make people think an air raid was on," Goto explained.
"Third, don't discuss this save in the most sanitized terms with the destroyers and subs, they don't need to know," Goto said and glared at every ship, "I mean that."
He waited for verbal affirmations from everyone.
"I'll brief them myself," he told them. "Let's set up observation points, and get teams to operate them."
------------------------------
Heerman spread out the map. "Okay, this park is large enough for a soccer -"
"Football."
"Someone just volunteered to watch Kaga," Heerman said, ignored the wail of despair and continued, "Soccer match, of all the destroyers. Hoel, Fubuki and Hibiki have promised to run take out orders to the watchers, and the restaurant has been warned to have extra cooking staff. This hollow will let Howe and Houshou keep an eye on us, but they'll be invisible. Akatsuki will run their order out to them, and the Duckies will take the order to the destroyer dorms when Haruna and Musashi are ready."
"Why the destroyer dorms?" Vampire asked.
"It's the one place we know will be empty," Heerman said, "Think about it."
"Shouldn't we have one or two destroyers there to complain about the noise?" Ayanami asked.
"No, but that'll be a good rumor to start tomorrow morning," Heerman said and made a note.
"Ghost story, or we describe the source," Lupo asked.
"Ghost story, scared us out of the dorms," Armidale said. The others nodded sagely.
"All right, have we got the orders in for the restaurant?" Heerman asked, and marked off the list as she got nods from the food team.
------------------------------
The sun was setting as Kongo stared into the big eye binoculars as she scanned the area. Several of her fairies watched with night optics with a wider field of view. Both she and the Admiral were in civilian clothes better suited for such a stakeout.
"Ahh," Goto told her as he lounged beside her on the blanket, he held the morsel in his chopsticks until she took a bite. He ate a morsel himself and enjoyed the view.
------------------------------
Yamato watched the four head out in Haruna's car. Iowa pulled away in a delivery van a moment later.
"One vehicle, white van, left the complex, headed north," Yamato said. She tried not to giggle as the decoy would draw every pursuer, and the unassuming car headed towards the park.
She sighed as she thought of how beautiful her sister was in proper clothes for once. She wondered if she'd ever be as lucky as Houshou and Musashi, then frowned. I had my chance, she thought, And I'm still tongue-tied around Howe.
------------------------------
Iowa loomed over the cruisers while Tenryuu and Ashigara quailed. "Of course Yamato saw me leave, I was chasing them, and you've let them get away!" the battleship thundered, "Now move your cars before we really lose them!"
------------------------------
"We've reacquired," New Jersey said over the radio, "I think."
"An officer took Haruna's car and picked up a double date," Ryujo reported over the same net, "I say again, Haruna's car is a decoy, disregard."
"The first one who says 'I love it when a plan comes together' gets to walk home," Haruna said.
"I -" Houshou began.
"Alone," Haruna said.
"- wonder if the rain will hurt the rhubarb?" Houshou said.
"Not this late in the season," Howe replied.
"Love it on a salad, beautiful color," Musashi said.
Haruna sighed, "The color don't enter into it, it's still dead."
"It's pining for the fjords," Howe said.
"That's Swiss Chard," Haruna said.
"The Swiss have fjords?" Howe asked.
"And Chryslers," Musashi added.
------------------------------
Kongo tensed, sat up, then relaxed back against Goto. "It was just Akatsuki."
The Admiral heard the raucous football game in the park, and put his arms around Kongo's waist. "Maybe I could watch and let you enjoy the dessert."
Kongo bowed her head. "I must do my duty," she said but settled back against him. It was growing chilly, but her boilers had heat to keep him warm.
------------------------------
Kongo walked towards her room, she had enjoyed her time with the Admiral, but was horrified that Haruna, Musashi and more importantly Houshou and Howe had completely evaded every ship who'd been searching for them.
She blearily noted Yuudachi approaching, yawning and carrying a blanket and pillow over her shoulders.
"Shouldn't you be in bed?" Kongo asked, feeling the call of her own bed like a magnet.
Yuudachi shook her head, then glanced towards Shimakaze approaching, also carrying bedding and a pillow. "The destroyer dorms are haunted, poi," Yuudachi said.
"Haunted?" Kongo asked as she considered her usual costume, and her lack of spiritual powers.
"A couple hours before the game was over, Johnston when back to the dorms to get some stuff," Yuudachi said, "And she heard it, like someone walking around in old shoes. She ran back to the field."
"Yeah," Shimakaze said, "After the football game, we were headed home, and from the basement, we heard 'squeak, squeak, squeak', like Johnston said: someone walking around in old shoes."
"More like a bunch of mice trying to be a clock," Yuudachi said, " 'Squeak, squeak, squeak'. Poi."
" 'Squeak, squeak, squeak'?" Kongo asked and felt her eyebrow twitching, "Why didn't you ask Howe to explode, explore first?"
"No one's seen him all night," Yuudachi said, then her eyes went wide, "Do you think the ghost got him?"
"No!" Shimakaze said, "The Duckies said they were fine when she dropped off their dinner!" Shimakaze grabbed Yuudachi and they wailed, "The ghost got Mr. Howe and Houshou-san! 'Squeak, squeak, squeak', WAHHHAAAAAAA!!"
Kongo's eye twitch had gone into overdrive. They never left Howe's room, she thought, We've been had!
"It couldn't be a person walking around!" Yuudachi wailed, "It went on for four hours!"
Kongo's fingers started twitching. Four hours? she thought.
"Don't exaggerate, it wasn't that long," Shimakaze told her.
Kongo relaxed.
"It was three-and-a-half at most," Shimakaze said, " 'Squeak, squeak, squeak'."
"I'm sure they're fine, and I'm sure, come the morning that it won't be a ghost at all," she said through clenched teeth.
"Thank you, Kongo-san," Yuudachi said, and she and Shimakaze bowed.
As they moved off Kongo heard, 'She's just saying that, she knows they're doomed. 'Squeak, squeak, squeak'.' The two destroyers walked down the stairs.
Kongo carefully unlocked the door to her apartment, closed and locked it behind herself. Carefully picked up a pillow and put it over her face.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGGGGGGGHH!!"
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Kirishima smelled a faint reek of burning feathers as she leaned Hiei against the wall and then fumbled for the lock to their apartment. The amount the pair had drunk would have sozzled a demigod, but Kirishima could just about function, as long as she ignored how the world kept lurching in random directions at inopportune times.
The sight of the room seemingly filled with floating feathers sobered her up, as the smell of burnt feathers assailed her nostrils. A few of the floating feathers still smoldered, but that paled to insignificance next to the sight of Kongo, seated, wearing a pillow with its center blasted out. The smoldering torque brought Kirishima no equanimity, as Kongo giggled and said, "Squeak, squeak, squeak," then giggled again.
"I don't care, I'm sleeping in Haruna's car," Hiei said and tugged Kirishima back into the corridor and down the stairs.