Operation: Fun Date, Mission Success
Howe and Houshou entered the mess hall and noted the drop in the overall level of noise. They glanced around and saw Haruna and Musashi entering. Howe and Houshou each raised an eyebrow. The two battlewagons blushed and glanced down.
Then Iowa entered with Unryu both softly smiling, and looked around nervously at the four capital ships with a raised eyebrows. Iowa blushed, but Unryu looked at them and raised her eyebrow.
Haruna and Musashi faced Howe and Houshou and raised their eyebrows, but Howe and Houshou didn't.
New Jersey entered with all of Taffy 3 and no one raised an eyebrow. But Taffy 3 glanced at the capital ships, and multiple hands covered several mouths and ushered them towards the food line. Wisconsin and Ise entered and faced a number of raised eyebrows, both blushed and glanced at each other.
The arrival of the other three Kongos caused the battleships to stare at the scraggly trio. "Where were you?" Kongo marched up and asked. The mildness of the tone did not eliminate the madness in her eyes.
"We were on our walk to the restaurant," Houshou said, "When we saw all the destroyers without supervision. That's a recipe for disaster, we checked around and their normal caretakers were no where to be seen. Someone had to take responsibility, Howe and I decided to have someone pick up our food and we watched over the destroyers until they made it home."
The open-mouthed trio of Kongos stared at Houshou. Howe took Houshou's arm and led her to the food line with the other battleships forming up behind them. They glanced back at the three statues staring into the middle distance.
The arrival of Tenryuu, Ashigara and Tatsuta each wearing broad smiles caused everyone to raise an eyebrow. The trio looked ready to run.
------------------------------
We are walking outside after a nice breakfast, and I realize it is time to break the last ice between us. "I believe aside from the underaged and the Admiral that we were the only ones who didn't have Aboriginal Perturbations," I say causing Houshou to laugh.
"So, I was wondering -"
"Yes," Houshou says as she stops to face me, "Yes."
"Please allow me to finish," I admonish, "If we simply did it on the parade ground I'd have to apologize to Vickers personally for Kongo dying of a massive aneurysm." While Houshou is chuckling, I pull out the flyer.
"A hot spring, how oriental and risque," Houshou says as she looks through it.
"A hot mineral spring," I say, "I suspect that part of our mutual reticence is that doing it on dry land feels, off. And if we should indulge ourselves in the lagoon . . . "
"The apology to Vickers," Houshou says.
I nod and continue. "The mineral content makes it seem more like sea water, it's rather exclusive, helping ensure privacy, no one is going to happen to walk in. And during winter the heat of the springs makes a serious steam cloud." I showed her some aerial photos of the area.
"Like a smoke screen, so no aerial recon or strike packages," she notes.
"Exactly," I say, "So, should we see the admiral about leave?"
"Indubitably," she says and grins, "Except it will take away one thing we've always beeen able to tease them about."
"Oh, I've got that covered as well. We've both seen that we are excellent cooks, when we return we can introduce each other to some of the more - exotic queasines as it were," I say.
"Well and good, but how will that help?" Houshou asks, then her eyes open wide. "Oh, that's just evil."
"If one is to do something, it shouldn't be done with half-measures," I say. We laugh all the way to the Admiral's office.
"And this is perfect timing," Houshou says.
"How so?" I ask.
"I just had the shotgun delivered," Houshou says.
"Capital!" I reply. The Admiral is utterly scandalized.
------------------------------
I've heard destroyers are cute and cuddly murderballs. While lacking in literary flair, I'd hardly call it inaccurate. Some alliteration would improve it. They are also fiercely proud of their extremely aggressive behavior. So when Glowworm and Johnston were out on sweep patrol and sighted random Abyssals, they attacked. Four supply ships and a light cruiser. They dropped torpedoes and raced away to make the call for reinforcements and heavy support. All good, all according to orders and standard protocols.
Then they circled around north to get home, and encountered a second formation of a few supply ships and a light escort. They brought that formation under fire, because of course they did, and moved to report in and flank the force to head home.
My navigator and sound detection teams have a vector on the gunfire I'd heard, a slight course change and the bridge crew ring up flank speed. I load flechette and the Sanshiki in my H&H as the ship goes from Condition X-Ray to Condition Zulu.
On their flanking maneuver, the pair encountered another force of a few supply ships and a light escort. This time they broke off without shooting and screamed for help. Everything afloat and aloft sortied. In all, fifteen small forces were trying to slip through the Kurils towards Sakhalin. A big convoy would have attracted too much attention, so a host of smaller ones should have slipped by. Whether Glowworm and Johnston were lucky or unlucky at having encountered seven of the groups, each one placed to block the direct route home, but light enough they could damage them and report them to the bigger girls.
"I'll kill you! You little shits!" an Abyssal transmits from up ahead.
I remind myself I need to get radar upgrades.
The explosion and screams of rage mark where Glowworm and Johnston are. I'll have to remember to tell Ooi and Kitakami, when hunting destroyers, don't have a full load of torpedoes in the deck launchers. To snipers like those two, it's like wearing a suicide vest. I spot the sinking, burning Chi-class, and the Ru-class who's shooting at something. My rigging is out and I give her gorilla-rigging eight of Her Majesty's best greenboys right through the back at center of mass.
If you want Maquis of Queensbury, you agree before the fight starts and you'd better be if not a friend, at least an ally. The female in the black dress turns to look at her rigging as it emits its death scream. I'm not trying to be cute by shooting her in the sternum with a Sanshiki, but a ship sinking and on fire is a nightmare for the crew. She's screaming in rage and pain, but all her heavy guns are on her rigging, which is dying.
A Mark 15 and a Mark IX caught the Ru unawares and she sank while still trying to beat out the fires that wreathed her from ankle to crown.
"I'm so gangsta, I ripped off a heavy cruiser's belt and wore it as a hat!" one voice calls.
"I'm so gangsta, I hit two heavies with one spread then fought the entire IJN myself!" comes another voice from about 120 degrees off the first.
If that's the recognition signal they've chosen, I can deal with that. "And I'm so gangsta, when I yells, the whole hood runs to another continent."
The two charge out of the smoke and rain squall they'd been hiding in, tears in their eyes. Sea spray they'd likely claim later. I kept my face neutral at how they wobbled and how gaunt they both looked. Equally worrying is the lack of jokes based on my name. If they couldn't even tease me, I downgraded their condition to critical. Likely exhausted after days of staying at high alert and running at high speed, and likely they had used the bunker fuel that normally was just ballast, and was probably not the best fuel after sitting in the keel tanks all that time. I kneel down and accept their hugs. I transfer them to my shoulders and my crews run lines to theirs to begin transferring fuel.
I also had a couple of bento boxes created from a recipe worked out by Miss Houshou and myself: appetizing to a wide variety of nations, nutritionally dense, and the containers provided gave ship-girls the extra they needed. So you could hand them out to ordinary humans safely. The galley crews had heated them before delivery, so they were getting hot food. Johnston pulled out the chilli, natto replacing the beans as it was about the only way to make it palatable to Westerners. Glowworm ate the sausage from hers without removing the aluminum foil wrapper, while Johnston ate the can of chilli the way most people would eat an ice cream cone.
"You can eat the box too," I tell them as I steam back towards the main fleet, "Rice paper, laminated with honey, and cornbread hardtack as a moisture barrier." I enjoy the appreciative noises, and am a little worried at the lack of demands for ice cream. My crew report the two of them have clasped hands and draped themselves on my head to use it as a pillow. I send a team to make lines fast to each, and to relieve their steaming watches. They deserve the rest, and they're almost immediately asleep.
Of course they drooled on my hair the whole trip back to Yokosuka. What's your point?
------------------------------
Wisconsin approached South Dakota and Washington as the pair shivered. "You two look like you completed the Murmansk run in midwinter," she said of the ice caking the two ships. "What happened?"
"We assked if we sshould take Johnsston and Glowworm, ssince he carried tthhem all the way baback here," Washington said with chattering teeth.
" 'Thank you'," South Dakota said in a falsetto, then in the deepest register she could manage, " 'But no.'"
The pair shuddered again at the reminder.
Wisconsin glanced to the battlecruiser and Houshou each carrying a destroyer and proceeding towards the repair baths. "Your plan to find out the hot spring, and crash the party to give your anguished declaration of love?" Wisconsin said, waited for the shivering pair to nod, "Unless you want to cure global warming by starting another ice age, scuttle it."
The shivering pair exchanged glances, then nodded.
------------------------------
Houshou steps back and while it could technically be termed snuggling, it is decidedly not what is generally meant. "Madam, please step forward, you are the only one who should be shooting," I tell her. The minx grins at me, then frowns and rubs her shoulder.
"I didn't expect it would kick like that," she says as she steps forward and brings her drilling up to bear on the target. Her Sanshiki has left the target a flaming mess, but while she is charmingly petite compared to my height, she's at most 2/9th's my displacement.
By necessity we are in close proximity as she is learning to fire the weapon. While a bow has some reaction when releasing an arrow, it isn't like the recoil of a powerful firearm. There is a large crowd of destroyers, which is expected. The light carriers are somewhat surprising, but not unexpected. The number of Essexes is quite surprising. I suspect that the custom manufacturers may find orders increasing once the Essexes return to the States. The cloud of steel AA defense is present in the Essexes, but there's something more satisfying about having a direct hand in who is targeted and when.
She is taking full advantage of the proximity, but she needs to concentrate on keeping the gun tight to her shoulder. The other difference between our weapons is I wanted maximum pattern density at range, she wanted higher dispersion. We'd tested with ordinary weapons and she preferred the Improved Cylinder while my weapon was full-choke on both barrels. An unusual arrangement on fowling pieces, typically the first was wide the second tight for a follow-up shot. Although some praised the reverse. Preferences. The same reason I didn't argue her choices. A weapon you are comfortable with is a far better performer than a superior one you loathe.
The shotshells are more controllable. We practice the fast reload drill: one barrel, second barrel, reload, and first barrel, second barrel. Firing both shot barrels at once ends up with her laying atop me some distance from the firing point.
"Now you know why I never do that," I chide as she keeps the gun pointing skyward until her shaking stops.
"I had to try," she explains. The range officer carefully takes the weapon from her, only then does a mixed force help us back to our feet. We escort her to a bench to sit and recover a bit.
"Do you need damage control parties?" I ask quietly, afraid she's injured herself.
"No," she says, and holds her head, "I just need to silence that klaxon in my bridge and recalibrate the gyrocompasses."
I put my arms around her. "Take your time," I tell her as the destroyers recover what's left of the targets.
"Johnston and Glowworm seem to have fully recovered from their ordeal," I note as she does a proper snuggle against me.
"Benefits of youth," Houshou says, "And the rescue by dad-bote. I doubt SoDak and Wash recovered as quickly."
"I was unfailingly polite," I reply.
"I'll bet you were," she tells me, and we enjoy a companionable silence as the destroyers and carriers argue who could outshoot whom. Fortunate we are at the battleship range.
Then Iowa entered with Unryu both softly smiling, and looked around nervously at the four capital ships with a raised eyebrows. Iowa blushed, but Unryu looked at them and raised her eyebrow.
Haruna and Musashi faced Howe and Houshou and raised their eyebrows, but Howe and Houshou didn't.
New Jersey entered with all of Taffy 3 and no one raised an eyebrow. But Taffy 3 glanced at the capital ships, and multiple hands covered several mouths and ushered them towards the food line. Wisconsin and Ise entered and faced a number of raised eyebrows, both blushed and glanced at each other.
The arrival of the other three Kongos caused the battleships to stare at the scraggly trio. "Where were you?" Kongo marched up and asked. The mildness of the tone did not eliminate the madness in her eyes.
"We were on our walk to the restaurant," Houshou said, "When we saw all the destroyers without supervision. That's a recipe for disaster, we checked around and their normal caretakers were no where to be seen. Someone had to take responsibility, Howe and I decided to have someone pick up our food and we watched over the destroyers until they made it home."
The open-mouthed trio of Kongos stared at Houshou. Howe took Houshou's arm and led her to the food line with the other battleships forming up behind them. They glanced back at the three statues staring into the middle distance.
The arrival of Tenryuu, Ashigara and Tatsuta each wearing broad smiles caused everyone to raise an eyebrow. The trio looked ready to run.
------------------------------
We are walking outside after a nice breakfast, and I realize it is time to break the last ice between us. "I believe aside from the underaged and the Admiral that we were the only ones who didn't have Aboriginal Perturbations," I say causing Houshou to laugh.
"So, I was wondering -"
"Yes," Houshou says as she stops to face me, "Yes."
"Please allow me to finish," I admonish, "If we simply did it on the parade ground I'd have to apologize to Vickers personally for Kongo dying of a massive aneurysm." While Houshou is chuckling, I pull out the flyer.
"A hot spring, how oriental and risque," Houshou says as she looks through it.
"A hot mineral spring," I say, "I suspect that part of our mutual reticence is that doing it on dry land feels, off. And if we should indulge ourselves in the lagoon . . . "
"The apology to Vickers," Houshou says.
I nod and continue. "The mineral content makes it seem more like sea water, it's rather exclusive, helping ensure privacy, no one is going to happen to walk in. And during winter the heat of the springs makes a serious steam cloud." I showed her some aerial photos of the area.
"Like a smoke screen, so no aerial recon or strike packages," she notes.
"Exactly," I say, "So, should we see the admiral about leave?"
"Indubitably," she says and grins, "Except it will take away one thing we've always beeen able to tease them about."
"Oh, I've got that covered as well. We've both seen that we are excellent cooks, when we return we can introduce each other to some of the more - exotic queasines as it were," I say.
"Well and good, but how will that help?" Houshou asks, then her eyes open wide. "Oh, that's just evil."
"If one is to do something, it shouldn't be done with half-measures," I say. We laugh all the way to the Admiral's office.
"And this is perfect timing," Houshou says.
"How so?" I ask.
"I just had the shotgun delivered," Houshou says.
"Capital!" I reply. The Admiral is utterly scandalized.
------------------------------
I've heard destroyers are cute and cuddly murderballs. While lacking in literary flair, I'd hardly call it inaccurate. Some alliteration would improve it. They are also fiercely proud of their extremely aggressive behavior. So when Glowworm and Johnston were out on sweep patrol and sighted random Abyssals, they attacked. Four supply ships and a light cruiser. They dropped torpedoes and raced away to make the call for reinforcements and heavy support. All good, all according to orders and standard protocols.
Then they circled around north to get home, and encountered a second formation of a few supply ships and a light escort. They brought that formation under fire, because of course they did, and moved to report in and flank the force to head home.
My navigator and sound detection teams have a vector on the gunfire I'd heard, a slight course change and the bridge crew ring up flank speed. I load flechette and the Sanshiki in my H&H as the ship goes from Condition X-Ray to Condition Zulu.
On their flanking maneuver, the pair encountered another force of a few supply ships and a light escort. This time they broke off without shooting and screamed for help. Everything afloat and aloft sortied. In all, fifteen small forces were trying to slip through the Kurils towards Sakhalin. A big convoy would have attracted too much attention, so a host of smaller ones should have slipped by. Whether Glowworm and Johnston were lucky or unlucky at having encountered seven of the groups, each one placed to block the direct route home, but light enough they could damage them and report them to the bigger girls.
"I'll kill you! You little shits!" an Abyssal transmits from up ahead.
I remind myself I need to get radar upgrades.
The explosion and screams of rage mark where Glowworm and Johnston are. I'll have to remember to tell Ooi and Kitakami, when hunting destroyers, don't have a full load of torpedoes in the deck launchers. To snipers like those two, it's like wearing a suicide vest. I spot the sinking, burning Chi-class, and the Ru-class who's shooting at something. My rigging is out and I give her gorilla-rigging eight of Her Majesty's best greenboys right through the back at center of mass.
If you want Maquis of Queensbury, you agree before the fight starts and you'd better be if not a friend, at least an ally. The female in the black dress turns to look at her rigging as it emits its death scream. I'm not trying to be cute by shooting her in the sternum with a Sanshiki, but a ship sinking and on fire is a nightmare for the crew. She's screaming in rage and pain, but all her heavy guns are on her rigging, which is dying.
A Mark 15 and a Mark IX caught the Ru unawares and she sank while still trying to beat out the fires that wreathed her from ankle to crown.
"I'm so gangsta, I ripped off a heavy cruiser's belt and wore it as a hat!" one voice calls.
"I'm so gangsta, I hit two heavies with one spread then fought the entire IJN myself!" comes another voice from about 120 degrees off the first.
If that's the recognition signal they've chosen, I can deal with that. "And I'm so gangsta, when I yells, the whole hood runs to another continent."
The two charge out of the smoke and rain squall they'd been hiding in, tears in their eyes. Sea spray they'd likely claim later. I kept my face neutral at how they wobbled and how gaunt they both looked. Equally worrying is the lack of jokes based on my name. If they couldn't even tease me, I downgraded their condition to critical. Likely exhausted after days of staying at high alert and running at high speed, and likely they had used the bunker fuel that normally was just ballast, and was probably not the best fuel after sitting in the keel tanks all that time. I kneel down and accept their hugs. I transfer them to my shoulders and my crews run lines to theirs to begin transferring fuel.
I also had a couple of bento boxes created from a recipe worked out by Miss Houshou and myself: appetizing to a wide variety of nations, nutritionally dense, and the containers provided gave ship-girls the extra they needed. So you could hand them out to ordinary humans safely. The galley crews had heated them before delivery, so they were getting hot food. Johnston pulled out the chilli, natto replacing the beans as it was about the only way to make it palatable to Westerners. Glowworm ate the sausage from hers without removing the aluminum foil wrapper, while Johnston ate the can of chilli the way most people would eat an ice cream cone.
"You can eat the box too," I tell them as I steam back towards the main fleet, "Rice paper, laminated with honey, and cornbread hardtack as a moisture barrier." I enjoy the appreciative noises, and am a little worried at the lack of demands for ice cream. My crew report the two of them have clasped hands and draped themselves on my head to use it as a pillow. I send a team to make lines fast to each, and to relieve their steaming watches. They deserve the rest, and they're almost immediately asleep.
Of course they drooled on my hair the whole trip back to Yokosuka. What's your point?
------------------------------
Wisconsin approached South Dakota and Washington as the pair shivered. "You two look like you completed the Murmansk run in midwinter," she said of the ice caking the two ships. "What happened?"
"We assked if we sshould take Johnsston and Glowworm, ssince he carried tthhem all the way baback here," Washington said with chattering teeth.
" 'Thank you'," South Dakota said in a falsetto, then in the deepest register she could manage, " 'But no.'"
The pair shuddered again at the reminder.
Wisconsin glanced to the battlecruiser and Houshou each carrying a destroyer and proceeding towards the repair baths. "Your plan to find out the hot spring, and crash the party to give your anguished declaration of love?" Wisconsin said, waited for the shivering pair to nod, "Unless you want to cure global warming by starting another ice age, scuttle it."
The shivering pair exchanged glances, then nodded.
------------------------------
Houshou steps back and while it could technically be termed snuggling, it is decidedly not what is generally meant. "Madam, please step forward, you are the only one who should be shooting," I tell her. The minx grins at me, then frowns and rubs her shoulder.
"I didn't expect it would kick like that," she says as she steps forward and brings her drilling up to bear on the target. Her Sanshiki has left the target a flaming mess, but while she is charmingly petite compared to my height, she's at most 2/9th's my displacement.
By necessity we are in close proximity as she is learning to fire the weapon. While a bow has some reaction when releasing an arrow, it isn't like the recoil of a powerful firearm. There is a large crowd of destroyers, which is expected. The light carriers are somewhat surprising, but not unexpected. The number of Essexes is quite surprising. I suspect that the custom manufacturers may find orders increasing once the Essexes return to the States. The cloud of steel AA defense is present in the Essexes, but there's something more satisfying about having a direct hand in who is targeted and when.
She is taking full advantage of the proximity, but she needs to concentrate on keeping the gun tight to her shoulder. The other difference between our weapons is I wanted maximum pattern density at range, she wanted higher dispersion. We'd tested with ordinary weapons and she preferred the Improved Cylinder while my weapon was full-choke on both barrels. An unusual arrangement on fowling pieces, typically the first was wide the second tight for a follow-up shot. Although some praised the reverse. Preferences. The same reason I didn't argue her choices. A weapon you are comfortable with is a far better performer than a superior one you loathe.
The shotshells are more controllable. We practice the fast reload drill: one barrel, second barrel, reload, and first barrel, second barrel. Firing both shot barrels at once ends up with her laying atop me some distance from the firing point.
"Now you know why I never do that," I chide as she keeps the gun pointing skyward until her shaking stops.
"I had to try," she explains. The range officer carefully takes the weapon from her, only then does a mixed force help us back to our feet. We escort her to a bench to sit and recover a bit.
"Do you need damage control parties?" I ask quietly, afraid she's injured herself.
"No," she says, and holds her head, "I just need to silence that klaxon in my bridge and recalibrate the gyrocompasses."
I put my arms around her. "Take your time," I tell her as the destroyers recover what's left of the targets.
"Johnston and Glowworm seem to have fully recovered from their ordeal," I note as she does a proper snuggle against me.
"Benefits of youth," Houshou says, "And the rescue by dad-bote. I doubt SoDak and Wash recovered as quickly."
"I was unfailingly polite," I reply.
"I'll bet you were," she tells me, and we enjoy a companionable silence as the destroyers and carriers argue who could outshoot whom. Fortunate we are at the battleship range.
