They are going to love Skyrim then.
I swear, every single game I start intending to play a axe wielding warrior, fireball slinging mage or such, I find myself crouched in a bush shooting Forsworn eventually. Every single damned game.
Belated Battleships (KanColle) [REHOST]
- Thread starter theJMPer
- Start date
They are going to love Skyrim then.
I swear, every single game I start intending to play a axe wielding warrior, fireball slinging mage or such, I find myself crouched in a bush shooting Forsworn eventually. Every single damned game.
- Location
- Eastern Coast Fleet Command
No defcon fans?
- Location
- United States
Too strategic. That, and the subgirls are all attack subs, not boomers.
Defcon would also make Crossroads girls uncomfortable as hell.
Icywinter
50% ice, 50% winter
- Location
- ?
- Pronouns
- She/Her
San Fran : What about Crysis? I play the shit out of that game, and I love it. I can either be stealthy as the morning breeze, or thunderous as Ragnarok. I think our American subs would love it... though they would be quite patient as well, and prefer practical solutions than flashy explosions.
Greek Fire
One of these days, I'll actually start writing.
- Location
- The Earth Sphere
Louisiana: EXPLOSIONS!?
Icywinter
50% ice, 50% winter
- Location
- ?
- Pronouns
- She/Her
San Fran : Aww, and not my computer?
Actually that's great. Yeah, you go do that. I'll keep my laptop all to myself~
Old Iron
Admiral Unfun
- Location
- The Southwestern Deadlands of America
Yeah... I don't think we need to expose the Taffies to any more of the modern interwebs than necessary for now.
Of course, they could just get bored and go blow things up in reality. They may be girls now, but they're still warships. XD
Icywinter
50% ice, 50% winter
- Location
- ?
- Pronouns
- She/Her
San Fran : I shudder to think what would happen if they went onto /k/.
Old Iron
Admiral Unfun
- Location
- The Southwestern Deadlands of America
Dare I ask what it is? Hyperspace? Something psychedelic? Lewd shots of an Iowa-Class hull?
And I have officially posted on my phone enough that my auto complete has ship names and class hyphenation popping up after only two letters. Jintsuu only takes one. XD
No, think simpler. Pong.
obssesednuker
Commander of 10 Million Men
- Location
- In the Kremlin, activating Perimtr.
The Bad Apple video?
Hypopheralcus
Lazy Fox / Lurker
- Location
- Germany
the WoWS release/Launch trailer?
Last edited:
Icywinter
50% ice, 50% winter
- Location
- ?
- Pronouns
- She/Her
San Fran : I wonder what they would think if this was playing as the screensaver.
And yes, it is my screensaver.
And yes, it is my screensaver.
- Location
- United States, EST
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Best-case, they try to steal the computer to have that playing all the time in their room.
Worst-case, it gives them Ideas.
ecs05norway
Zenryoku Zenkai!
Because "Destroyer" is short for "Torpedo Boat Destroyer". They were originally meant to escort battleships and defend them against attacks by small torpedo boats (such as WW2 PT boats and their ilk) which were considered a major threat at the time.
Part 34: Northern Princess
- Location
- 'Murica
Well, I was going to write some Albacore-time, but I ran into writer's block. So instead, I did this, hope you enjoy!
Naka smiled to her reflection, narrowing one eye as she threw up a cutesy gesture with her gloved hand. Her hair was done up in its usual buns, her skin was fresh and crisp from her saltwater shower, her brilliant day-glow orange dress was neatly ironed, and her neckerchief was tied just so. The Idol of the fleet was ready to start her day!
Which, in this case, meant hopping onto her computer to livestream for her adoring fans. It wasn't exactly hard work, but Naka enjoyed it. She loved to get up early and get a few rounds of League or World of Warships in before everyone else was awake. If she timed it right, she'd claim her victory just as the first beams of sunlight crested over the eastern horizon!
Of course, she loved her fans too—the one annoying troll who kept calling her turret arrangement stupid excepted of course. They were such an interesting cross-section of people! There were music fans who'd never picked up a controller in their lives, hardcore naval history buffs who'd claw their ears out after just one of the Idol's catchy little ditties, and gamers who lay somewhere between.
"Testing, one two…" Naka fiddled with her mic stand. Like just about everything on her desk, the taffies had moved it out of alignment during their very enthusiastic Pong binge. The Idol pursed her lips, listening to her voice as it echoed back to her though her speakers.
Content with her levels, Naka keyed in her 'Begin Broadcast' hotkeys and smiled for the camera. "Hi~Hi!" she waved to the camera with boundless enthusiasm, "This is the Idol of the fleet, Naka-Chan, desu~" She let slip a little giggle, "I'm coming to you live for gametime with Naka! Today we're playing…"
The Idol paused, drumming one hand against her desk as she scrolled though her extensive game library, "World of Warships!"
"Not that bloody boat game again ;" said someone in the chat. But the majority of her fans were happy with her decision.
"Today," said Naka, making a show of checking that her buns were done up perfectly, "We're playing the American Tier Nine Battleship! The USS New Jersey."
Naka silently counted off the seconds. One… two… three..
"You mean Iowa" "T9 is Iwoa" "I mean Iowa" "The Tier Nine is the Iowa, Naka."
"Yes yes, I know," said Naka, "But the new patch changes her to Lady J, isn't that cool!"
A few more seconds and the tide of corrections petered out. And more than a few people started asking if Naka could get Jersey to join the show.
"Could I get Jersey to join me…" Naka tapped a finger against her chin, her lips puckering in an exaggeratedly cute 'lemme think' pose. "Probably! I'll make sure to ask her!"
Naka spent the next few minutes answering questions about the new patch while her game loaded, followed by a few more minutes describing how the new New Jersey was different from the old Iowa. She was seconds away from hitting the battle button when familiarly frightening contralto cut though the layers of cuteness Naka surrounded herself with.
"Yo, Naka," The Battleship New Jersey—the flesh-and-steel version, not the one that merely existed as a set of ones and zeros on Naka's computer—ducked into the light cruiser's room.
"Ohai!" said Naka with a cute giggle. She tossed an adorable wave at the battleship before motioning to her webcam, "Welcome to Twitch, Jersey-chan!"
The towering battleship blinked, her ice-blue eyes gliding over to the webcam with the oiled precision of her main batteries. "What-the fuck-ever," she grunted. She settled her hands on her broad American hips, apparently tuning out the legion of Naka-fans, "Look, I got shit to do, can make sure the fucktards don't go fucktarded?"
"I… what?" now it was Naka's turn to blink.
"Taffies," growled Jersey. "Keep them…" she waved her hands in the air, describing a rough sphere with her gestures. "Contained and shit."
"Oh, no problem!"
"Thanks, I'll get 'em," said Jersey, tossing a lazy gaze at the computer, "Uh… carry on." Without another word, the battleship spun on her heel and jogged out of the room at a lanky gallop.
Naka spun back to her computer. In the scant few minutes she'd been taking with Jersey, the chat-log had filled to bursting with comments espousing profuse praise for her American's friend's legs. And stern area. Naka had a hard time arguing with them herself, so she settled on a teasing, "Hey now, be careful what you say, she's got a boyfriend."
The light cruiser giggled as she sat back in her chair. She'd probably pay for that later once the battleship… woke… up.
Naka froze, her eyes suddenly going as wide as dinner plates. "Gottagobye!" she yelped as she smashed the 'End Broadcast' so hard she felt plastic shatter under her finger.
It was five. In the morning. In the AM. Before Noon! Jersey couldn't be bothered to string together two coherent syllables before noon! What the hell? Something was up, something very very serious was up.
"Comin' though," grunted Jersey, bumping the door to Admiral Goto's office open with a thrust of her plump stern. It wasn't the most graceful way to enter a superior's office, but one hand was occupied holding to carafes of coffee—fully caffeinated Navy coffee, none of that heretical un-American decaf shit—and the other was equally occupied keeping her hoard of breakfast muffins from falling off her chest.
The Japanese Admiral glanced up from his desk, but other than a tiny smirk at the battleship's breakfast selection, he didn't react in the slightest. Apparently months of Kongou antics had instilled a rather more relaxed definition of "normal" to the good Admiral.
Secretary Ship Nagato's reaction was no less subtle. Her nos trials flared by fractions as the bridge of her slender nose crinkled minutely. One hand rested on her hip, framing that so-called skirt that was really more of an unusually wide skirt and a set of abs almost as nice as Jersey's own. The other slowly crept up to massage the battleship's temples in what Jersey instantly recognized as a "I'm so done with this shit" look.
"Oh, Welcome, Jersey," said Ooyodo as she carefully extricated herself from under her desk.
Jersey nodded, setting her carafes down atop of a bookshelf and dumping her muffins in a pile next to them. "Lieutenant Commander USS New Jersey, BB-62 reporting, sir!" she snapped a hand to her brow, her posture instantly going ramrod straight.
"As you were," said Goto, return her salute with a rushed one of his own.
Jersey took a quick gulp of her coffee. The salty Navy brew wasn't the best tasting, but it at least intimidated her tummy into temporarily ceasing its cries for muffins. "Admiral, what uh… what exactly going on?"
"Iku just finished developing her photos," said Goto, motioning to a pile of printouts sitting on a plotting table. "Take a look."
"Admiral Williams will be joining us shortly," said Ooyodo, her head bouncing between the six screens setup haphazardly around her desk. "I've emailed the scans to him."
"But," said Goto, "I want your opinion."
"Yeah," said Jersey, popping a muffin into her mouth, "Nu prubum." The battleship brushed a loose crumb off her scarf before leaning over the pictures. By the look of it, Iku'd caught the images on film with her seaplane, developed them overnight, then snapped a few pictures with her cell-phone.
She could tell because not only did every glossy color printout feature a black-and-white aerial photo, each one also somehow managed to include the submarine's breast and/or crotch.
But there were other, far more interesting sights to be seen. Sights like a pair of hulking abyssalized battleships. Looking at them sent shiveres down Jersey's keel, and she had to fight the urge to scrunch the printout into a tiny ball.
They were seagoing castles, with a monolithic tower mounted aft of their three triple turrets. There wasn't a hint of grace or elegance to their design, nothing but pure malice radiated from their scarred hulls. War machines with all the finesse of a sledgehammer. Like someone had dug up a medieval castle and somehow made it float. "I'm guessing those are NelRods?"
Ooyodo nodded, "That's what we think. Iku reports there's at least three, possibly four."
"And these," Jersey glanced at another photo. A pair of battleships steamed in line abreast. These ones didn't have quite the same concentrated hatred as the NelRods, but they did have the same monolithic bunker superstructure. They carried three turrets in the same layout as Jersey herself did, but there were two quadruple turrets and a twin. "KGVs?"
A nod from Ooyodo confirmed her suspicions.
"Well, I hate to be cocky," said Jersey, "But I can tank fourteen inch shells all day long." She tossed the photo back onto the pile, "Even the sixteens shouldn't be a problem without heavy shells."
"Not everyone has your armor," said Nagato, her tiny microskirt ruffling just so as she hunched over the plotting table.
"And they," Goto waved to the abyssal battleships, "aren't what we're worried about," said Goto.
"Sir?" Jersey felt a shiver run down her spine.
"Take a look," said Nagato, "we've given it the codename 'Northern Princess'." The battleship slid one last photo over to the American. The image was slightly out of focus, clearly taken at the very limit of the camera's zoom lens, but the content was unmistakable.
An aircraft carrier made of ice dominated the frame, its colossal white deck spotted with tiny blobs that had to be aircraft. Beside the carrier sailed two escorting destroyers—no, escorting battleships—each dwarfed by the carrier's sheer size.
"Fuuuuuuuuuuck," breathed Jersey.
"This is our main concern," said Nagato, her slender fingers coming together in a steeple as she stared at the image. "The Abyssals have an untold number of aircraft based on that iceberg-"
"It's no an iceberg," said Jersey, her scowl deepening by the second, "that's a battle station."
Nagato cocked an eyebrow.
"Project Habakkuk," said Jersey, "A secret project to make an unsinkable aircraft carrier from… from ice and wood pulp."
Nagato offered a confused look, but Ooydo spoke up before her. "Admiral," said the command cruiser, "Admiral Williams is on the line."
Jersey instantly snapped to, pivoting on her heel to face the television screen displaying Her Admiral's face. "Sir," she said, snapping off a smart salute.
"Relax, Jersey," said Williams, "You've had a chance to look over the images?"
"Aye, sir," said Jersey, "That carrier's gonna be a tough bitch to sink…." She cradled her chin with her hand, staring at the picture as if her glare would damage it. "The Air Force has been working on those glass-nosed B-52s, right?"
"Right, what's your plan?"
"Load them to the gills with bunker-busters, sir."
"Might not be that easy," said Williams, his frown mirroring the one adoring Jersey's face, "But Edwards to Alaska's a long flight… I'm not sure I can pull that much kerosene. And that's assuming the modifications even work."
Ooydo glanced over her wall of television screens,"The US Navy is willingly including the US Air Force? Over an iceberg?"
"I agree," Nagato glanced up from her steepled fingers, "I fail to see why a ship of ice is so intimidating."
"Because it's not just ice," said Jersey, "It's ice and wood pulp. We called it pykrete because it's as strong as reinforced concrete. And that thing-" she jabbed her finger at the carrier, "that thing's got sides forty feet thick. It's built to shrug off torpedoes like they were nothing. Hell, even if I had Katies, it'd just laugh."
Nagato glanced from Jersey to Goto, "Katies?"
"Uh…" Jersey winced. Crossroads. Nagato. Right… "Bombardment shells."
The Japanese battleship nodded, her jaw suddenly clenched tight.
"She's right though," said Goto, moving a little closer to Nagato and gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "We'll need armor-piercing shells."
"No, you don't," said Jersey. "Sirs… " the battleship held her hands up, "Forty fucking feet thick. Regular AP rounds won't cut it. Even my Mark 8s will barely penetrate that much, and they're the best damn AP round ever made." She let her hands fall to her hips, "I'm the only ship you've got who can kill this bitch."
Goto let out a low huff, his brow furrowing as he glanced from the pictures to Williams. Williams' jaw tensed, and he pursed his lips as he returned the Japanese Admiral's questioning look with one of his own.
"Unless…" Jersey smirked, "There's something you're not telling me."
The Yeoman gulped as he knocked on the door of a kanmusu who, officially at least, didn't exist. Her utility was limited, her appetite enormous, and her prestige unimaginable. If word got out to the public that she'd been summoned, the clamorous demand of public opinion would force her into battles she had no place in.
She wasn't built for escort duties, she was built for fleet actions. And now she finally had one.
"It's open!" came the husky Japanese of the SDF's most closely-guarded weapon.
The Yeoman gently pushed the door open, squinting into the gloom of the kanmusu's room. Her windows were closed, and only the glow of her computer revealed anything of the luxurious quarters.
The Kanmusu gave a half-nod of acknowledgement, her attention focused on her computer and the game she was playing. World of Warships, if what he could see though her tied-up tufts of snowstorm-white hair told him anything.
"What do you want?" she asked. Her tone was clearly trying to be friendly, but the Yeoman could tell her heart just wasn't in it. Too many disappointments… too many times when she'd been told 'Not yet.'
The Yeoman smiled. Not this time. "Admiral Goto wants to see you," he said, "For fleet deployment."
The Kanmusu instantly snapped from her gaming slouch to sitting bolt upright. "Deployment?" she breathed, slowly pivoting in her chair to look at him, her glasses glinting in the light.
"Deployment," said the Yeoman, snapping his hand up in salute to the battleship. The battleship who had no equal.
- - - - -
A/N: Remember that battleship I said wasn't going to show up? Yeah, I lied.
Part 34
Naka smiled to her reflection, narrowing one eye as she threw up a cutesy gesture with her gloved hand. Her hair was done up in its usual buns, her skin was fresh and crisp from her saltwater shower, her brilliant day-glow orange dress was neatly ironed, and her neckerchief was tied just so. The Idol of the fleet was ready to start her day!
Which, in this case, meant hopping onto her computer to livestream for her adoring fans. It wasn't exactly hard work, but Naka enjoyed it. She loved to get up early and get a few rounds of League or World of Warships in before everyone else was awake. If she timed it right, she'd claim her victory just as the first beams of sunlight crested over the eastern horizon!
Of course, she loved her fans too—the one annoying troll who kept calling her turret arrangement stupid excepted of course. They were such an interesting cross-section of people! There were music fans who'd never picked up a controller in their lives, hardcore naval history buffs who'd claw their ears out after just one of the Idol's catchy little ditties, and gamers who lay somewhere between.
"Testing, one two…" Naka fiddled with her mic stand. Like just about everything on her desk, the taffies had moved it out of alignment during their very enthusiastic Pong binge. The Idol pursed her lips, listening to her voice as it echoed back to her though her speakers.
Content with her levels, Naka keyed in her 'Begin Broadcast' hotkeys and smiled for the camera. "Hi~Hi!" she waved to the camera with boundless enthusiasm, "This is the Idol of the fleet, Naka-Chan, desu~" She let slip a little giggle, "I'm coming to you live for gametime with Naka! Today we're playing…"
The Idol paused, drumming one hand against her desk as she scrolled though her extensive game library, "World of Warships!"
"Not that bloody boat game again ;" said someone in the chat. But the majority of her fans were happy with her decision.
"Today," said Naka, making a show of checking that her buns were done up perfectly, "We're playing the American Tier Nine Battleship! The USS New Jersey."
Naka silently counted off the seconds. One… two… three..
"You mean Iowa" "T9 is Iwoa" "I mean Iowa" "The Tier Nine is the Iowa, Naka."
"Yes yes, I know," said Naka, "But the new patch changes her to Lady J, isn't that cool!"
A few more seconds and the tide of corrections petered out. And more than a few people started asking if Naka could get Jersey to join the show.
"Could I get Jersey to join me…" Naka tapped a finger against her chin, her lips puckering in an exaggeratedly cute 'lemme think' pose. "Probably! I'll make sure to ask her!"
Naka spent the next few minutes answering questions about the new patch while her game loaded, followed by a few more minutes describing how the new New Jersey was different from the old Iowa. She was seconds away from hitting the battle button when familiarly frightening contralto cut though the layers of cuteness Naka surrounded herself with.
"Yo, Naka," The Battleship New Jersey—the flesh-and-steel version, not the one that merely existed as a set of ones and zeros on Naka's computer—ducked into the light cruiser's room.
"Ohai!" said Naka with a cute giggle. She tossed an adorable wave at the battleship before motioning to her webcam, "Welcome to Twitch, Jersey-chan!"
The towering battleship blinked, her ice-blue eyes gliding over to the webcam with the oiled precision of her main batteries. "What-the fuck-ever," she grunted. She settled her hands on her broad American hips, apparently tuning out the legion of Naka-fans, "Look, I got shit to do, can make sure the fucktards don't go fucktarded?"
"I… what?" now it was Naka's turn to blink.
"Taffies," growled Jersey. "Keep them…" she waved her hands in the air, describing a rough sphere with her gestures. "Contained and shit."
"Oh, no problem!"
"Thanks, I'll get 'em," said Jersey, tossing a lazy gaze at the computer, "Uh… carry on." Without another word, the battleship spun on her heel and jogged out of the room at a lanky gallop.
Naka spun back to her computer. In the scant few minutes she'd been taking with Jersey, the chat-log had filled to bursting with comments espousing profuse praise for her American's friend's legs. And stern area. Naka had a hard time arguing with them herself, so she settled on a teasing, "Hey now, be careful what you say, she's got a boyfriend."
The light cruiser giggled as she sat back in her chair. She'd probably pay for that later once the battleship… woke… up.
Naka froze, her eyes suddenly going as wide as dinner plates. "Gottagobye!" she yelped as she smashed the 'End Broadcast' so hard she felt plastic shatter under her finger.
It was five. In the morning. In the AM. Before Noon! Jersey couldn't be bothered to string together two coherent syllables before noon! What the hell? Something was up, something very very serious was up.
—|—|—
"Comin' though," grunted Jersey, bumping the door to Admiral Goto's office open with a thrust of her plump stern. It wasn't the most graceful way to enter a superior's office, but one hand was occupied holding to carafes of coffee—fully caffeinated Navy coffee, none of that heretical un-American decaf shit—and the other was equally occupied keeping her hoard of breakfast muffins from falling off her chest.
The Japanese Admiral glanced up from his desk, but other than a tiny smirk at the battleship's breakfast selection, he didn't react in the slightest. Apparently months of Kongou antics had instilled a rather more relaxed definition of "normal" to the good Admiral.
Secretary Ship Nagato's reaction was no less subtle. Her nos trials flared by fractions as the bridge of her slender nose crinkled minutely. One hand rested on her hip, framing that so-called skirt that was really more of an unusually wide skirt and a set of abs almost as nice as Jersey's own. The other slowly crept up to massage the battleship's temples in what Jersey instantly recognized as a "I'm so done with this shit" look.
"Oh, Welcome, Jersey," said Ooyodo as she carefully extricated herself from under her desk.
Jersey nodded, setting her carafes down atop of a bookshelf and dumping her muffins in a pile next to them. "Lieutenant Commander USS New Jersey, BB-62 reporting, sir!" she snapped a hand to her brow, her posture instantly going ramrod straight.
"As you were," said Goto, return her salute with a rushed one of his own.
Jersey took a quick gulp of her coffee. The salty Navy brew wasn't the best tasting, but it at least intimidated her tummy into temporarily ceasing its cries for muffins. "Admiral, what uh… what exactly going on?"
"Iku just finished developing her photos," said Goto, motioning to a pile of printouts sitting on a plotting table. "Take a look."
"Admiral Williams will be joining us shortly," said Ooyodo, her head bouncing between the six screens setup haphazardly around her desk. "I've emailed the scans to him."
"But," said Goto, "I want your opinion."
"Yeah," said Jersey, popping a muffin into her mouth, "Nu prubum." The battleship brushed a loose crumb off her scarf before leaning over the pictures. By the look of it, Iku'd caught the images on film with her seaplane, developed them overnight, then snapped a few pictures with her cell-phone.
She could tell because not only did every glossy color printout feature a black-and-white aerial photo, each one also somehow managed to include the submarine's breast and/or crotch.
But there were other, far more interesting sights to be seen. Sights like a pair of hulking abyssalized battleships. Looking at them sent shiveres down Jersey's keel, and she had to fight the urge to scrunch the printout into a tiny ball.
They were seagoing castles, with a monolithic tower mounted aft of their three triple turrets. There wasn't a hint of grace or elegance to their design, nothing but pure malice radiated from their scarred hulls. War machines with all the finesse of a sledgehammer. Like someone had dug up a medieval castle and somehow made it float. "I'm guessing those are NelRods?"
Ooyodo nodded, "That's what we think. Iku reports there's at least three, possibly four."
"And these," Jersey glanced at another photo. A pair of battleships steamed in line abreast. These ones didn't have quite the same concentrated hatred as the NelRods, but they did have the same monolithic bunker superstructure. They carried three turrets in the same layout as Jersey herself did, but there were two quadruple turrets and a twin. "KGVs?"
A nod from Ooyodo confirmed her suspicions.
"Well, I hate to be cocky," said Jersey, "But I can tank fourteen inch shells all day long." She tossed the photo back onto the pile, "Even the sixteens shouldn't be a problem without heavy shells."
"Not everyone has your armor," said Nagato, her tiny microskirt ruffling just so as she hunched over the plotting table.
"And they," Goto waved to the abyssal battleships, "aren't what we're worried about," said Goto.
"Sir?" Jersey felt a shiver run down her spine.
"Take a look," said Nagato, "we've given it the codename 'Northern Princess'." The battleship slid one last photo over to the American. The image was slightly out of focus, clearly taken at the very limit of the camera's zoom lens, but the content was unmistakable.
An aircraft carrier made of ice dominated the frame, its colossal white deck spotted with tiny blobs that had to be aircraft. Beside the carrier sailed two escorting destroyers—no, escorting battleships—each dwarfed by the carrier's sheer size.
"Fuuuuuuuuuuck," breathed Jersey.
"This is our main concern," said Nagato, her slender fingers coming together in a steeple as she stared at the image. "The Abyssals have an untold number of aircraft based on that iceberg-"
"It's no an iceberg," said Jersey, her scowl deepening by the second, "that's a battle station."
Nagato cocked an eyebrow.
"Project Habakkuk," said Jersey, "A secret project to make an unsinkable aircraft carrier from… from ice and wood pulp."
Nagato offered a confused look, but Ooydo spoke up before her. "Admiral," said the command cruiser, "Admiral Williams is on the line."
Jersey instantly snapped to, pivoting on her heel to face the television screen displaying Her Admiral's face. "Sir," she said, snapping off a smart salute.
"Relax, Jersey," said Williams, "You've had a chance to look over the images?"
"Aye, sir," said Jersey, "That carrier's gonna be a tough bitch to sink…." She cradled her chin with her hand, staring at the picture as if her glare would damage it. "The Air Force has been working on those glass-nosed B-52s, right?"
"Right, what's your plan?"
"Load them to the gills with bunker-busters, sir."
"Might not be that easy," said Williams, his frown mirroring the one adoring Jersey's face, "But Edwards to Alaska's a long flight… I'm not sure I can pull that much kerosene. And that's assuming the modifications even work."
Ooydo glanced over her wall of television screens,"The US Navy is willingly including the US Air Force? Over an iceberg?"
"I agree," Nagato glanced up from her steepled fingers, "I fail to see why a ship of ice is so intimidating."
"Because it's not just ice," said Jersey, "It's ice and wood pulp. We called it pykrete because it's as strong as reinforced concrete. And that thing-" she jabbed her finger at the carrier, "that thing's got sides forty feet thick. It's built to shrug off torpedoes like they were nothing. Hell, even if I had Katies, it'd just laugh."
Nagato glanced from Jersey to Goto, "Katies?"
"Uh…" Jersey winced. Crossroads. Nagato. Right… "Bombardment shells."
The Japanese battleship nodded, her jaw suddenly clenched tight.
"She's right though," said Goto, moving a little closer to Nagato and gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "We'll need armor-piercing shells."
"No, you don't," said Jersey. "Sirs… " the battleship held her hands up, "Forty fucking feet thick. Regular AP rounds won't cut it. Even my Mark 8s will barely penetrate that much, and they're the best damn AP round ever made." She let her hands fall to her hips, "I'm the only ship you've got who can kill this bitch."
Goto let out a low huff, his brow furrowing as he glanced from the pictures to Williams. Williams' jaw tensed, and he pursed his lips as he returned the Japanese Admiral's questioning look with one of his own.
"Unless…" Jersey smirked, "There's something you're not telling me."
—|—|—
The Yeoman gulped as he knocked on the door of a kanmusu who, officially at least, didn't exist. Her utility was limited, her appetite enormous, and her prestige unimaginable. If word got out to the public that she'd been summoned, the clamorous demand of public opinion would force her into battles she had no place in.
She wasn't built for escort duties, she was built for fleet actions. And now she finally had one.
"It's open!" came the husky Japanese of the SDF's most closely-guarded weapon.
The Yeoman gently pushed the door open, squinting into the gloom of the kanmusu's room. Her windows were closed, and only the glow of her computer revealed anything of the luxurious quarters.
The Kanmusu gave a half-nod of acknowledgement, her attention focused on her computer and the game she was playing. World of Warships, if what he could see though her tied-up tufts of snowstorm-white hair told him anything.
"What do you want?" she asked. Her tone was clearly trying to be friendly, but the Yeoman could tell her heart just wasn't in it. Too many disappointments… too many times when she'd been told 'Not yet.'
The Yeoman smiled. Not this time. "Admiral Goto wants to see you," he said, "For fleet deployment."
The Kanmusu instantly snapped from her gaming slouch to sitting bolt upright. "Deployment?" she breathed, slowly pivoting in her chair to look at him, her glasses glinting in the light.
"Deployment," said the Yeoman, snapping his hand up in salute to the battleship. The battleship who had no equal.
- - - - -
A/N: Remember that battleship I said wasn't going to show up? Yeah, I lied.
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jwolfe_beta
Semi Genre-Savvy Overlord
- Location
- Canada
Hi Musashi.
Although pretty sure that even 18 inch guns won't be able to crack that sucker easily.
- Location
- Eastern Coast Fleet Command
I don't think Jersey could break that, even with the Yamato at her side. You could kill the escorts, but you would need either some super torpedoes, H bombs, or themobarics, (oh god its a gigantic wait mission till the AF gets the themobarics, isn't it).
Whiskey Golf
Being of Editing & Technical Assistance
- Location
- Chained to my desk
Saraba chikyuu yo~
tabidasu fune wa~
Uchuu Senkan~
YAMATO!
Admittedly, it's Musashi we're running, not Yamato. Still.
tabidasu fune wa~
Uchuu Senkan~
YAMATO!
Admittedly, it's Musashi we're running, not Yamato. Still.
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Whiskey Golf
Being of Editing & Technical Assistance
- Location
- Chained to my desk
@Ryand-Smith not sure thermobarics would work.
If there was ever a mission you needed tacnukes, this is it.
If there was ever a mission you needed tacnukes, this is it.
jwolfe_beta
Semi Genre-Savvy Overlord
- Location
- Canada
Depending on how heavily armed the Habakkuk Abyssal is, strategy would vary.
If it's closer to a traditional carrier, sink the support vessels while bringing a metric ton of AA to fend off fighters.
Bigger guns? Max range bombardment and pray it's not carrying 20 inch guns or something.