Three cruisers steamed in a narrow arrowhead formation. Alaska knew the sleek, multi-turreted design by heart. Atlantas. Her stomach twisted inside her at the sight. Those were American ships, but they were notAmerican. She let out a low, involuntary hiss. Her hands shook too badly to write, and the corners of her vision tinged a pinkish red. Those ships were not her friends.
Her friends… Flint and Sandy and… Juneau and San Juan… and all of them deserved better than this. They were good ships, proud ships, honorable ships.
Her pencil shattered in her grasp.
"Alaska?" the voice of her Admiral shook her out of her rage.
"S-sir?" Alaska shook her head to clear the red haze. "Sorry, I…"
Then she noticed the ship in the center of the formation, the battlecruiser from her briefing. Its hull was long and wickedly pointed at both ends. Its four twin-turrets lay menacingly against its decks. A towering monolithic superstructure all but identical to Alaska's own loomed over the fore turrets, and it's massive funnel trunking was surrounded by a single inky black band.
But more importantly, the water around burned with a brilliant blue-white light. This wasn't the subtle glow of churned up algae, the water almost boiled in hate.
"That's—"
"A Lexington-class battle cruiser," said her Admiral solemnly.
"What's that glowy stuff?" asked Hamakaze.
Then, in an instant it all clicked for Alaska. All those books she'd been reading in her down time… that black stripe on the stacks… she knew what that glow was. "Cherenkov radiation," she whispered.
Her Admiral nodded. "I'm afraid so."
"What…" even Atago's voice was dark and worried, "what does that mean."
"Radiation," said the Admiral. "That ship's so hot she glows. Combined with that stripe on her stack, and we know the exact ship she's based on."
"Saratoga," breathed Alaska. "We're hunting sister Sara."
