More like
"Wha? What happened to my coffee? *pouts* Guess I need to find mo-*trips* I'mokay! *gets up, goes wide-eyed* Umm, Iowa, w-why are you pointing your guns at me?"
Camperdown: "Pff. Americans making a mountain out of a molehill, aren't I right Victoria?"
Victoria: "Would someone be so good as to remind Camperdown that I'm not talking to her?"
Camperdown: "I know you're a queen but you don't have to be a drama queen."
Victoria: "Someone? Anyone?"
Camperdown: "And it was your admiral's fault."
Victoria: (removes glove and slaps Camperdown across the face) "How dare you? I demand satisfaction!"
(Rigging materialises and Victoria is pointing her pair of 413mm guns at Camperdown's four 343mm).
The clock strikes five.
Camperdown: "After tea, of course."
Victoria: "Naturally."
(rigging dematerialises)
Yep. Just about anything with 14+ inch guns can cause issues, and the Iowa-class had some real hiccups with determining overpressure before they mounted the AA guns on the B turrets. That's not so bad, though- the Yamato-class battleships couldn't have anyone on deck period when the main battery fired, and things like floatplanes and the ship's boats had to be stored internally or the overpressure wave would destroy them. If you look close, you notice that American battleships, even the Iowas, have open-topped AA mounts all over the place. Yamato didn't because of overpressure issues, and Musashi had a shitload of 25mm AA singles bolted on, but she couldn't engage with the main battery while they were being used.
You're half-right though. A lot of the AA gunners would've been killed if the ship had to fire her rifles. It was a known trade-off, since the navy figured they wouldn't have to fight off air-attack and surface attack at the same time.
Please, come in. Take a seat. Can I take your hat? Get you something to drink?
(Arizona) That's uncommon kind of you to ask, Miss! But I don't touch any kind of color of liquor and it's a chore to hang my hat what with my tsiyeel done up for you two.
I'm so happy to finally meet the two of you!
(Mahan) I just have to say, Arizona, before we progress any further into this interview, that I loved you in Here Comes The Navy. You did all of us Belles proud.
What was it like, being on an actual film set? Or... I guess, being an actual film set? What were James Cagney and Gloria Stuart like? Gloria Stuart always looks so glamorous on screen... she was so very glamorous, wasn't she?
(Arizona) I'll tell you what, Mahan. Why don't we proceed with the interview - you interview me like you would any other Belle you've met over these past months. And then, once we're done, I'll answer any questions you have about the movie.
I don't want to keep the Captain tied up any longer than I have to.
(Mahan) That's... well, that's just so considerate of you, Arizona!
(Arizona) Better wait 'till you learn how terribly considerate I am! Now, let's see...
I was constructed at the New York Naval Shipyard decades ago, while we were still fighting the Huns during the Great War. My commissioning was on 17 October 1916, just a few months after my only sister -and the namesake for our class- Pennsylvania. Call her Penny, if you ever meet, she loves that.
She was constructed at Newport News, Virginia, and is a thoroughly respectable East Coast ship. She went to college and all that, while I hit the trail- we're as different as blood can be. Why, I ain't scarcely civilized, if you ask her. But I can wear proper feminine habiliments with the best of'em, and we get on fine, mostly.
I was given my name by Miss Esther Ross, the daughter of a prominent pioneer family, and was christened by the finest bottle of Salt river water you've ever quenched your thirst with.
And I'm not ashamed by that humble beginning. I thrive on a life of simplicity and hard work, happy to forgo the struggles which come as a result of ambition. I do believe I would be content to look on the Arizona landscape for the whole of my life, with its towering red and orange rock, high forests, more than our fair share of blue sky, and, well, the sunsets...
...no painter or poet could do'em justice.
(Mahan) You certainly do make the, uh, desert sound more welcoming than anyone else I've ever met.
(Arizona) I will admit, it's likely an acquired taste.
I'm half Navajo and half pioneer, so I'm at home in the valley, the river, the mountain and the desert....and I'd be happy to talk your ear off about them any old time. The real thing's more impressive than any Hollywood movie, I warrant.
I was laid down on 16 March 1914 as "Battleship Number 39" and launched on 19 June 1915. I was christened with a bottle the first water to pass over the Theodore Roosevelt dam spillway down Phoenix way. Now, most sailors thought it was a bad omen not be blessed with grape juice- well, Arizona is dry, and so am I. So even Navy custom had to clear out of my way.
Anyway, I got my star on 17 October 1916, and I was downright eager to get out to Europe, but I faced a few issues with my engines which put me back in dry dock until Spring 1917. I was back in the saddle in no time, but was foiled again. Oil was a touch hard to come by in those days, so I couldn't join up with the British Grand posse- I served during the Great War as a gunnery training ship with the Atlantic one instead.
One week after the armistice was signed on 11 November 1918, I finally got the supplies to join up with Battleship Division Six. First thing I did was provide an honor guard for President Woodrow Wilson who was traveling to Brest, France for the Paris Peace Conference. I just about burst my bulkheads with pride!
Afterwards, I offered a ride back home in style to our boys, steaming back to New York the day after Christmas. Now that was a proper party, let me tell you. I ain't on to all those foxtrots and tangos; but I can dance! No one sang like Lillie Langtry, but they did their best.
There were some fine Choctaw soldiers who sailed with me -radio-talkers, they called themselves- who confounded German codebreakers by communicating in their native language, which the Huns never had a dictionary for. That's a pretty clever idea. The 158th sailed with us, too- never met a finer bunch, and all Arizona too.
In 1919, I sailed for Turkey as our representative during the Greco-Turkish War. Really had to dress up for that one. Gave me flagship for Battleship Division Seven, afterwards. I kept busy, of course. I conducted training exercises, gunnery practice, torpedo defense practice, and participated in the Fleet Problems.
The Bureau also sprung for some modernizations in the late 1920s, which included a new superstructure, boilers and turbines, and additional armor to protect me from aerial attacks. I keep my old cage masts around, though. When the drydock was done with me, off I went to the Caribbean with another fine, moral President, Mr. Herbert Hoover.
When the Long Beach earthquake struck on 10 March 1933, I pitched in, feeding and sheltering the victims. It's only right to help a fellow in need.
These days, oil is getting scarce again, so apart from the Fleet Problems, I don't get out on the trail too much-. Besides, the old friendship with the Nipponese marus is souring, so I'm staying Pacific side to remind everybody I've got what they call a sudden temper.
(Mahan) I noticed you skipped your time shooting Here Comes The Navyin your recounting of your service history there, Arizona.
(Arizona) Lawsy-massy, that particular subject has a tendency to derail all others, don't it? At least you didn't bring up Blackie. Anyway, like I said, it's best to leave it until the end.
(Mahan) *Sigh*
(Arizona) Now, as for my capabilities it's like this: you've met any number of girls who are faster and more modern. But there aren't but a few that have a broadside like I've got, nor the experience, nor armor as tough as all git-out.
If the Bureau would shell out for a few more upgrades, I'd show them a thing or two. 'Sides, if they don't spend their modernization budget every once in awhile they'd git too wealthy. Also, a Belle of my age and reputation makes for a good chaperone, if there's call for one.
I can make 21 knots at battle speed. That isn't much, I know, but, at a set speed of 10 knots, I can go 9,200 miles - which isn't shabby for anyone you might meet.
In my arsenal, you'll find twelve, count'em, 14"/45 guns, twelve 5"/51 casement guns, eight 5"/25 dual-purpose guns, and two fine Corsairs on catapults. I like a little range in my hunts.
You know, Mahan...?
(Mahan) Yes, Arizona?
(Arizona) I don't get it out very often, but I do have an album of pictures taken on set during the making of...
(Mahan) I WANT TO SEE IT.
(Arizona) I figured you might. You won't mind keeping the Captain company while I go track it down?
(Mahan) NO.
(Arizona) Ha, all right, then. I'll be back in a few minutes.
(Mahan) Oh... she's so neat, isn't she, Captain? So down to earth! You have to recruit us both, okay? Promise me! Because I want to be friends with her...before...well, sir, I've been dreading this day.
Arizona joined the Pacific Fleet at their new homeport of Pearl Harbor in the Spring of 1940. She traveled to Bremerton where she underwent an overhaul that included additional anti-aircraft guns. After the overhaul, Arizona took part in fleet exercises to prepare for possible war.
On 7 December 1941, the Empire of Japan launched a surprise attack on the Pacific Fleet in Pearl Harbor. Arizona's color guard were on deck raising the flag, the band was tuning their instruments, and chairs had been set for church when the attack came. As General Quarters sounded, the first torpedoes struck Battleship Row.
Nevada, Utah, California, Maryland, West Virginia and Oklahoma all were struck by Type-91 torpedoes in the first minutes. High level bombers, carrying converted 41cm armor piercing shells, targeted the battleships from 10,000'. 6 shells were aimed at Arizona. One struck her on the faceplate of her number 4 turret, crashed through three decks and started a fire. Another struck near the anti-air deck, and the third was a near miss. The others missed.
Two further bombs struck USS Vestal, a repair ship moored to Arizona, although she was able to get away under her own power. Aft, Nevada was getting underway- as last ship on the Row, she had more room to maneuver. Fore, West Virginia and Tennessee were fighting for their lives. As the crew of the Arizona struggled to their stations, the decks were strafed mercilessly. In the chaos, her 1,521 crew began to defend their ship.
Fourteen minutes from the beginning of the attack, at about 8:09am, another 41cm shell crashed forward of her number 2 turret igniting her forward powder magazines. The resulting explosion lifted her out of the water and utterly destroyed the forward part of the ship. Her forward superstructure and foremast collapsed and were engulfed by the conflagration. Of her crew, she lost 1,177 from these explosions and the resulting fire- the largest single source of the 2,403 that died that day. As she began to sink, more of her crew were helplessly trapped inside, unable to escape.
In the days after the attack on Pearl Harbor, efforts were made to recover the bodies of her crew while she lay on the bottom of the harbor. Even with these efforts, more than 1,000 of her crew remained entombed inside her.With her masts and superstructure removed for scrap, and her turrets salvaged to be used as shore batteries, Arizona was stricken from the US Navy on 1 December 1942.
In 1962, the Arizona Memorial opened, which serves as a national shrine for the events of that day. From the Memorial, you can view the hull fore and aft in the clear blue waters of the harbor, and throw flowers into the water in honor of the fallen.
*sniff*
What an awful end to...
(Arizona) Awww Mahan, buck up!
If you don't mind me paraphrasing ol' Mustapha, "leaving aside the unspeakable treachery of it...they did a fine job."
Have to say, as surprise attacks do, it was something straight out of a Hollywood movie.
(Mahan) B-b-but...it's just...
(Arizona) Now, now, I've got just the thing for you, Mahan. Here's my album, as promised.
(Mahan) Aah! It's James Cagney!
(Arizona) He does have a way of drying tears.
Anyway, Captain, I give you my word, when it comes to this coming war, I won't allow any silliness to distract anyone on board my ship from the task at hand. I figure these Morganas threaten everything, and the sea is just the first thing in their way. Now, if you need a Belle for the kind of place that's too tough for ladies and churches, a Belle to pour out fire as hot as Billy Hell, if you need a Pearl Hart on the right side of the law...search me out.
On the one hand, Gale was happy her mother had made up a bed for her. Her dinner was still digesting, and the tired sailor wanted little more than to curl up under heavy blankets and sleep until hours even Jersey's lazy ass would consider excessively late.
On the other hand, the bed her mother had made up for her was barely big enough for her and Wash to share. If they snuggled real tight. And even then, Gale wasn't sure there would be enough room for her to avoid using the battleship's bosom as a pillow.
At least Wash seemed to be enjoying herself. The battleship's face barely flickered from its usual supernaturally beautiful serenity, but Gale'd known her long enough to tell the tiny twitches of her lips were her version of a beaming smile. Her miniskirt swished against the tantalizing strip of bare skin between her barely-visible spats and the navy blue thigh-highs that puckered the soft flesh of her legs.
The room might not have much space to sleep, but there were plenty of things to catch Wash's interest. Gale's mother always kept a selection of legos, barbie dolls, and Lincoln logs around for the grandkids—plus a collection of models Gale and her siblings had built over the years that the sailor desperately hoped Wash wouldn't read too much into.
Gale couldn't quite motivate herself to speak as Wash flowed from thing to thing with the grace of a seagoing titan. There was something adorable about the way her gentle face beamed with all the soft gentleness of the moon every time she saw something new. And one of the battleship's hands never left the gentle swell over her stomach her fudge binge had given her.
The sailor knew the battleship was just displaying the aftereffects of a Gale family dinner, but she couldn't shake the thought that Wash looked like an expectant mother. And from the contently happy look on Wash's face, the battleship was indulging in a little bit of fantasy herself.
"Uh," Gale coughed. There was no way in hell they were both fitting on that bed. Not without getting really squished. "I'll sleep on the floor."
Wash closed the book she was browsing—Macaulay's The Way Things Work, a childhood favorite of Gale's—and smiled. "Why?"
"Well…" Gale blushed, and tried to look anywhere but the smiling battleship's… anything, really. Every inch of her glowed with the kind of artful beauty that made renaissance sculptures look like a three year old's doodles. "Uh… the bed…"
"Yes?" Wash set the book on a table and took a few tender steps towards the brilliantly blushing sailor.
"There's no way we're both…" Gale stopped abruptly. Without saying a word or shifting her expression in the slightest, Wash had put her hands on the sailor's hips and tugged her close, until their bodies were almost touching.
"Gale," Wash beamed, her slightly misshapen nose just kissing the tip of Gale's. "I'm a battleship."
Gale blushed, and tried to think of anything but the very full, soft, and warm breasts with their slightly nutmeggy aroma that squished against her chest. "I'm… aware."
"I don't like," Wash's eyes narrowed, and she leaned in to touch her nose to Gale's again. "To be unescorted."
"We're ashore," Gale bit her lip and tried to stifle a happy purr.
"And I'd still rather have someone I love watching over me," said Gale. "Someone I'd trust with my life."
"Uh…" Gale smiled, and leaned in to plant a quick kiss on Wash's lips. Mmm, there was still a bit of fudge on her creamy skin. Or maybe that was just how the big battleship tasted? Fudge with a hint of vanilla and cordite?
Wash's eyes closed the rest of the way, and her hips slowly swayed against Gale's. "I don't lie."
Gale blinked, her mind thrown for a hormone-addled spin at that. "S-sorry?"
"I don't lie," said Wash. "What I said earlier, it was true."
Gale stared with utter uncomprehension.
Until Wash's hands moved from her waist to grab two very full handfuls of her rear. "You have a very nice butt."
With her already confused mind swimming in enough hormones to drown a small country, the only intelligent thing Gale could think of to do in response was grab the battleship's much curvier stern.
Wash seemed to enjoy it though, judging by the way her tongue danced when they kissed.
—|—|—
Alaska knew, on an intellectual level, that she was back at base. The truck had groaned to a stop, and the panting gasp of an overworked diesel engine had faded to nothing, leaving only the quiet sounds of a coastal breeze. She knew it, but she didn't want to believe it.
The large cruiser scooted a tiny bit closer to her date and nuzzled at the hints of stubble gracing his jaw. She didn't bother to open her eyes as a happy purr slipped past her lips. She was content to just drink in the smell of her boyfriend, to feel his warmth against her skin, and to have his arm wrapped gently around her slender waist.
"Like you," mumbled Alaska as she prodded his cheek with her nose, lazily trying to coax another kiss out of him.
"Hmm?" Cameron smiled at her, but she could feel his heart beating a hundred miles a minute. She was pressed so close she could sense everything he did even with her eyes blissfully shut. His grip tightened on her waist, his fingers digging into the tiny bit of softness padding out her wiry belly.
Alaska just nuzzled him again and pursed her lips. A faerie darted out onto the crown of her head with a string of signal flags in tow and frantically waved them at Cameron. "K-I-S-S-H-E-R" it read.
Cameron chuckled, and twisted in his seat so he could face the dreamy cruiser. "You're beautiful, 'laska." His free hand wrapped around her, slipping under her arm to grasp her right where her bra strap would be if she had enough of a bust to need one.
"Heheh," Alaska giggled and shifted her hips to be a bit closer to her boyfriend. She would say something more coherent, but she was too swamped with bliss to put together a coherent sentence.
"What did I ever do to deserve you?" Cameron nuzzled her nose with his, and took a second to admire how stunningly pretty the girl's face looked with her shimmering snow-white hair framing it. Alaska's smile was as derpy as ever, but somehow that just made her prettier.
Alaska just giggled.
Cameron moved his hand to cradle the back of her head. Her hair glittered like new-fallen snow, and it was impossibly soft against his skin. "I… we're back at base. I have to let you go now."
"Okay," Alaska nodded.
"You, uh…" Cameron was thankful her eyes were still blissfully shut. He didn't think it was possible to blush this red. "You want a parting kiss?"
"Mmmhm," Alaska nodded.
Cameron closed his eyes and leaned in. She might not be as busty as Atago, but when her chest kissed his, he wouldn't have traded the feeling for anything in the world. Her lips were cool starkly calm when they touched his. It was like kissing a quiet winter evening, but with the tiniest hint of warm marshmallow.
The cruiser's hands wrapped around his waist as she held him close. She nibbled at his lip for a moment, then pulled away. "Mmm…" she purred and let her head rest against his.
"Uh…" Cameron gulped. "I… yeah."
"Heh," Alaska's sea-blue eyes flickered open and she smiled at him. "I liked that."
"Me too."
Alaska smiled blissfully.
"We should, uh…" Cameron bit his lip and tried to fight down the brilliant blush tinting his features. Alaska's normally snow-white face had taken on its own crimson hue, but she didn't seem to know or care. "We're here."
"Yeah," Alaska sighed.
"Wouldn't…." Cameron smoothed his shirt, then smoothed it again for good measure. "Uh, want to keep anyone waiting."
"Right." Alaska's shoulders slumped, and she let go of his waist. "Thanks."
"It was my pleasure," Cameron smiled at her, and ruffled her hair a bit, momentarily reducing the large cruiser to giggling bliss.
He ducked back to the cab door and swung it open. The marine driver stood silent at parade rest. But the smirk on his face and the nonstop bouncing of his eyebrows made Cameron's blush only intensify.
"It was just a kiss," he felt compelled to explain.
"No comment, sir." Said the marine with a smirk that was most certainly a comment.
"I…" Cameron glanced back as Alaska exited the truck. For a moment, he was so captured by how beautiful she looked in her dress that he didn't realize he was staring squarely at her amply-rounded stern. His pulse rocketed and he tore his gaze away. "I wasn't—"
"I know how it is, kid," the Marine smiled. "I'm sure she does too."
Cameron glanced at the pretty girl stepping down on the blacktop parking lot. The girl who's soul was—essentially—made up of a thousand-odd men not much older than him. "Y-yeah."
"You give her a kiss goodbye?"
"Yes, sir." said Cameron.
"C'mon," the Marine patted Cameron on the back. "Let's get you to the Admiral, pay you back for that dinner of hers."
Cameron gave Alaska a long look.
"Trust me, kid," said the Marine, "you do not want to visit her dorms."
Something about the stern look on his face made Cameron trust the Marine without needing any further explanation. "Okay." He turned to the cruiser and gave her a hug. "See you around, 'laska."
Alaska smiled. "See you, Cameron."
And then the two parted ways, Cameron heading to admiral Raleigh's office to get Alaska's gluttonous dinner expensed, while Alaska did… Whatever she did. Even the large cruiser wasn't quite sure where the rest of the evening would lead her.
Even on a normal day, the cruiser's social life just followed along with the twin currents that were Texas and Atago. And her date had depleted Alaska's already feeble ability to girl. So she decided she'd head back to her room and try to find her best friend.
Alaska was still new to this whole 'date' thing. As well as the 'being a girl' thing. And if she was being honest, she'd never quite gotten the hang of the 'being a ship' thing either. But Atago knew everything about romance and love, she'd be able to help Alaska get her thoughts in order.
And she was really cuddly, which made Alaska happy.
But before the cruiser had even made it to the dormitory building, she spotted someone she didn't recognize strolling the base grounds.
She was a woman—not a shipgirl, but an actual woman. Alaska didn't see any rigging. A very short woman, as short as a standard. But she didn't have the soft, comfortable plumpness of a Standard. She was slender and lithe and playful like a cat, and her face that radiated equal parts coyish playfulness and wholesome love.
Alaska decided she would hug that woman. Which, as it turned out, was entirely a moot point. By the time she'd made up her mind, her body was already moving. Her arms were outstretched, and her feet almost dragged behind her as she closed the distance.
The large cruiser happily wrapped her arms around the tiny newcomer and smiled. "You're so tiny!"
The woman sighed, and glanced up at the taller shipgirl. "Alaska, I presume?"
Alaska shot the woman a confused look. "How did you know?"
The woman just rolled her eyes. "Why are you hugging me?"
Alaska blinked.
The woman blinked.
Alaska glanced down at her embrace. "I don't really know."
"So the stories are true," the woman smiled, and slipped out of Alaska's grasp. "Katherine Solette."
"Oh!" Alaska beamed. "Docboat's wife!"
Katherine sighed, then chuckled at the innocent cruiser. "Yes, that's me."
"Nice to meet you!" Alaska beamed, and pounced on Kat for another hug. "Hi. Imma call you Kat."
Kat laughed. "Nice to meet you too, miss Alaska."
"You can call me 'laska," said the cruiser. "Um… if you want, ma'am."
Kat smirked like her namesake and planted a hand on her hip. "You're just as cute as they say."
Alaska giggled with a blush.
"So," Kat stifled a yawn. "Think you could show me to my quarters?" She handed the cruiser a note with her room number. "Was a long flight down from Washington."
"Oh, sure!" Alaska nodded. After a moment, she stopped and pivoted back at the woman. "Um.. Kat?"
"Yeah?"
"Uh…" Alaska shuffled her feet and blushed. "Y-you're married, right?"
Kat smiled and flashed the ring on her finger.
"Um…" The large cruiser blushed. "How do I wife?"
—|—|—
Jane Richardson was not an Admiral. She wanted to be one when she grew up though. She'd been keeping a very close eye on her dad, and the notebook hidden under her pillow had exhaustive notes on everything an Admiral did.
There was a whole section devoted to naval tactics—with a few excerpts she'd lovingly copied down from her dad's thick, picture less books. There were annotated transcripts of the interviews she'd gotten from every ship and sailor she managed to corner. Her Japanese wasn't the best, but it was good enough to communicate with a few SDF captains about their ships.
There was even a whole appendix dedicated to figuring out the future of her dad's little fleet. Jane had picked out a really pretty wedding dress for Mutsu-mama (a strapless dress with a fitted bodice in the classic white. With a matching headband, because Mutsu-mama just didn't look like herself without a headband.) She'd even drawn a few sketches of what her sisters-to-be would look like. (Mutsu would have twins, and they would be adorable. No, it wasn't up for discussion.)
But, taped to the very front of the notebook and written in extra-big glitter-pen letters was a list of an Admiral's responsibilities. And right there at the top was the most important of all. "Keep the ships happy."
Jane knew she couldn't do most of her dad's job quite yet. But she could try her best to keep all her big sisters and mamas happy. So she'd do that.
"Miss Jersey?" Jane beamed up at the big battleship. She was used to being around taller people, anyone above destroyer tonnage could beat her in the height department, and even the duckies—Jane had invented that term, she was quite proud of how popular it'd gotten—stood taller than her.
But Jersey wasn't just tall. She was… big. She seemed even bigger than she really was with the way she carried herself. She didn't stand, she loomed. And to make things even more complicated, Jane still hadn't quite decided of Jersey was a bigsister-boat or a mama-boat.
She didn't act like any mama Jane had ever met, but she was too protective to be a sister.
"Sup?" The battleship glanced up from the frosty nickle plating of her gun with a lopsided smile. It was a very rough smile, like the one you'd find on some of Jane's more… vintage drawings. But the comfy roughness just made Jane feel happier.
"I baked you cookies!" Jane beamed and presented a plate full of gooey chocolate-chip goodness.
Jersey's gun was instantly forgotten as she stuffed a handful into her waiting mouth. That was something else that made her special. Ari-mama always ate like a lady. So did Mutsu, except something about the way she ate her noodles always made the Admiral blush, Jane wasn't sure why. But Jersey devoured her food like the cookie monster, only she made sure every crumb eventually made its way back into her mouth.
"'s fucking good!" Jersey beamed and reached over to tousle Jane's hair with her half-gloved hand.
Jane beamed. Jersey cussed a lot too. Jane wasn't a newcomer to the world of bad words, she'd spent most of her life on a navy base. But Jersey cussed as easily as she breathed. Jane wasn't sure what to think about that, it was a question that could wait until she actually made Admiral. "Thank you!"
Jersey gobbled down another few cookies. "Yuh wehcum."
Jane giggled. If she ever tried to talk with her mouth full like that, Ari-mama would… Jane wasn't actually sure, but she knew it would be stern and disciplinaryish. Of course, Jane didn't have the appetite of Jersey, either.
"Hey," Jersey swallowed, and absentmindedly drummed her fingers against her flat belly—her tummy was about the only part of her that wasn't comically huge. "You're a good kid, you know that?"
Jane just smiled and nodded.
"Richardson knows his shit," said the big battleship. "He's a fucking awesome dad."
"I think so too!" Jane pulled herself up onto a chair next to Jersey and crawled onto her lap. She wasn't as soft and cuddly as Ari-mama. But her bare legs were warm like Mutsu-mama's, and her chest was just soft enough to snuggle.
The battleship blinked, then slowly wrapped her arms around the little admiral-in-training and purred. Actually purred. Like a cat. With her head pressed against the battleship's firm chest, Jane felt it more than she heard it. The Iowa was definitely purring. "Hey, Jane?"
"Hmm?"
"I gotta ship out soon," Jersey cradled Jane in her arms and gently rocked her side to side. "Mind passing a message to your dad for me?"
"Sure!" Jane peeled her face off Jersey's chest just long enough to smile at the battleship.
"Tell him…" Jersey's lips split in a wicked grin. "If he doesn't lay his keel in Mutsu's slipway, the poor girl's gonna blow. Again."
Jane giggled. She knew enough about ships to know what that meant. Her little sister was on the way! Hopefully her dad would be able to figure out his part. He was a people, not a ship. Jane was pretty sure he didn't have a keel. "Okay!"
On the one hand, Gale was happy her mother had made up a bed for her. Her dinner was still digesting, and the tired sailor wanted little more than to curl up under heavy blankets and sleep until hours even Jersey's lazy ass would consider excessively late.
On the other hand, the bed her mother had made up for her was barely big enough for her and Wash to share. If they snuggled real tight. And even then, Gale wasn't sure there would be enough room for her to avoid using the battleship's bosom as a pillow.
"Uh," Gale coughed. There was no way in hell they were both fitting on that bed. Not without getting really squished. "I'll sleep on the floor."
Wash closed the book she was browsing—Macaulay's The Way Things Work, a childhood favorite of Gale's—and smiled. "Why?"
"Well…" Gale blushed, and tried to look anywhere but the smiling battleship's… anything, really. Every inch of her glowed with the kind of artful beauty that made renaissance sculptures look like a three year old's doodles. "Uh… the bed…"
"Yes?" Wash set the book on a table and took a few tender steps towards the brilliantly blushing sailor.
"There's no way we're both…" Gale stopped abruptly. Without saying a word or shifting her expression in the slightest, Wash had put her hands on the sailor's hips and tugged her close, until their bodies were almost touching.
"Gale," Wash beamed, her slightly misshapen nose just kissing the tip of Gale's. "I'm a battleship."
Gale blushed, and tried to think of anything but the very full, soft, and warm breasts with their slightly nutmeggy aroma that squished against her chest. "I'm… aware."
"I don't like," Wash's eyes narrowed, and she leaned in to touch her nose to Gale's again. "To be unescorted."
"Uh…" Gale smiled, and leaned in to plant a quick kiss on Wash's lips. Mmm, there was still a bit of fudge on her creamy skin. Or maybe that was just how the big battleship tasted? Fudge with a hint of vanilla and cordite?
Wash's eyes closed the rest of the way, and her hips slowly swayed against Gale's. "I don't lie."
Gale blinked, her mind thrown for a hormone-addled spin at that. "S-sorry?"
"I don't lie," said Wash. "What I said earlier, it was true."
Gale stared with utter uncomprehension.
Until Wash's hands moved from her waist to grab two very full handfuls of her rear. "You have a very nice butt."
With her already confused mind swimming in enough hormones to drown a small country, the only intelligent thing Gale could think of to do in response was grab the battleship's much curvier stern.
Wash seemed to enjoy it though, judging by the way her tongue danced when they kissed.
Alaska just nuzzled him again and pursed her lips. A faerie darted out onto the crown of her head with a string of signal flags in tow and frantically waved them at Cameron. "K-I-S-S-H-E-R" it read.
Cameron chuckled, and twisted in his seat so he could face the dreamy cruiser. "You're beautiful, 'laska." His free hand wrapped around her, slipping under her arm to grasp her right where her bra strap would be if she had enough of a bust to need one.
He ducked back to the cab door and swung it open. The marine driver stood silent at parade rest. But the smirk on his face and the nonstop bouncing of his eyebrows made Cameron's blush only intensify.
"It was just a kiss," he felt compelled to explain.
"No comment, sir." Said the marine with a smirk that was most certainly a comment.
"I…" Cameron glanced back as Alaska exited the truck. For a moment, he was so captured by how beautiful she looked in her dress that he didn't realize he was staring squarely at her amply-rounded stern. His pulse rocketed and he tore his gaze away. "I wasn't—"
"I know how it is, kid," the Marine smiled. "I'm sure she does too."
Cameron glanced at the pretty girl stepping down on the blacktop parking lot. The girl who's soul was—essentially—made up of a thousand-odd men not much older than him. "Y-yeah."
"You give her a kiss goodbye?"
"Yes, sir." said Cameron.
"C'mon," the Marine patted Cameron on the back. "Let's get you to the Admiral, pay you back for that dinner of hers."
Cameron gave Alaska a long look.
"Trust me, kid," said the Marine, "you do not want to visit her dorms."
But before the cruiser had even made it to the dormitory building, she spotted someone she didn't recognize strolling the base grounds.
She was a woman—not a shipgirl, but an actual woman. Alaska didn't see any rigging. A very short woman, as short as a standard. But she didn't have the soft, comfortable plumpness of a Standard. She was slender and lithe and playful like a cat, and her face that radiated equal parts coyish playfulness and wholesome love.
Alaska decided she would hug that woman. Which, as it turned out, was entirely a moot point. By the time she'd made up her mind, her body was already moving. Her arms were outstretched, and her feet almost dragged behind her as she closed the distance.
The large cruiser happily wrapped her arms around the tiny newcomer and smiled. "You're so tiny!"
The woman sighed, and glanced up at the taller shipgirl. "Alaska, I presume?"
Alaska shot the woman a confused look. "How did you know?"
The woman just rolled her eyes. "Why are you hugging me?"
Alaska blinked.
The woman blinked.
Alaska glanced down at her embrace. "I don't really know."
Lesson 1: Anything you see or hear Jersey or Musashi do? Don't.
Lesson 2: Court your man/woman for another few years.
Lesson 3 Before you marry, go over each other's financial situation. Financial problems are the #1 cause of arguments and divorces in the US.
There was even a whole appendix dedicated to figuring out the future of her dad's little fleet. Jane had picked out a really pretty wedding dress for Mutsu-mama (a strapless dress with a fitted bodice in the classic white. With a matching headband, because Mutsu-mama just didn't look like herself without a headband.) She'd even drawn a few sketches of what her sisters-to-be would look like. (Mutsu would have twins, and they would be *adorable. No, it wasn't up for discussion.)
But, taped to the very front of the notebook and written in extra-big glitter-pen letters was a list of an Admiral's responsibilities. And right there at the top was the most important of all. "Keep the ships happy."
'Laska a dork. A very cute dork, but a dork nonetheless.
And Kat, being the wonderful soul she is, is sure to help 'Laska dork in harmless ways, and take the relationship at an appropriate pace. As will Texas and 'Tago.
Maybe not 'Tago.
'Laska? Don't listen to 'Tago. She means well, but she rushes things way too much.
Huh. That's a convenient thing to have. It shows that the staff review system is totally a thing people use, and nobody tries to report content that you all OK'd...
Unless they don't know what the rating means.
Or just don't care.
Or are abusing the report system.
But still convenient!
Huh. That's a convenient thing to have. It shows that the staff review system is totally a thing people use, and nobody tries to report content that you all OK'd...
Unless they don't know what the rating means.
Or just don't care.
Or are abusing the report system.
But still convenient!
Approved x 1