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Belated Battleships (KanColle) [REHOST]

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theJMPer said:
Fifteen hundred pounds of case-hardened American Iron shoved its way through the battlecruiser's deck and punched through watertight compartments like they were made of tissue paper. A half-dozen of its comrades followed suit, tearing into the battlecruiser's bow and reducing everything forward of A turret into twisted metal even a scrapyard would reject.
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Brutal 14" murder at its best. Go Ari!

I just write said:
Curiously, what does the process of upgrading a shipgirl look like?
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I suspect we will find out soon enough.
 
I am now wondering ifthe Philippine Navy ship BRP Rajah Humabon will make an appearance, given that she's the only WW2 ship (formerly known as USS Atherton, a Cannon-class DE) that's still in active service to this day.
 
So, tonight I had a special treat - I got to watch Top Gun in IMAX 3D at the Smithsonian Air and Space Udvar-Hazy.

That "Squee" sound you're hearing is all the carriers in my head being ecstatic and wistful at all the F-14 action.
 
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Plushies were only the beginning
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    • Jane Richardson examined her handiwork with a beaming smile. Sitting on the middle of the kitchen table, surrounded by construction paper shavings, globs of half-cooled hot-glue, tape scraps, and several empty bottles of white glue was an exact replica of the Sasebo summoning chamber.

    Well… not quite exact. Jane hadn't gone into obsessive rivet-counting detail for a simple class diorama, but it was pretty close. She'd copied the Japanese calligraphy from the wall-hanging scrolls as best she could—it took her seven tries, and she was really proud of how they turned out. She'd made little paper figures of her dad and Jintsuu to watch over the summoning pool, and she'd even built the diorama around a Tupperware container. It could even hold water!

    A smile passed over the girl's face, as a sudden realization dawned.

    Maybe she was just being silly, but…

    Jane bolted for the garage with the frantic energy only a small girl who'd consumed her own body weight in sugar products to fuel her artistic efforts could produce. Before long, she was back with a can of Iron filings—which were as messy as they were fun to play with—a battered bottle of three-in-one oil, and a few rounds from her dad's nine-millimeter.

    She hadn't touched his gun of course, Jane knew far better than to do that. Although she would like it stated for the record that she was a better shot than him, mostly due to Arizona's teaching. She'd just tore into one of the open cardboard ammo boxes and grabbed a handful of cartridges.

    If this didn't work, she'd put them back, but she was sure she'd need them.

    "Ahem," Jane said. But before she could continue, she realized she was missing something. She darted over to the wall and turned the lights out, and scrounged up a few matches. They weren't incense sticks like the Shinto priests used, but it was probably close enough.

    Jane struck one of the big matches against the box and held it carefully between her fingers. "Ahem. Steel—" she dumped some of the iron filings into the pool. "—fuel—" she dribbled the 3-in-1. It wasn't fuel oil, but it was the closest she could find on short notice. "—Ammo—" she let the bullets slip between her little fingers one at a time.

    "This we offer to the deep," Jane bowed her head to her little mini-summoning chamber. "In tribute to…" she tapped her toe against her chair and tried to remember the words. "In tribute service gladly rendered. And humbly, um… request a return to service."

    The girl closed her eyes and blew out her match.

    When she opened them, she wasn't alone.

    Standing quietly on the surface of the little pool was Mutsu.

    Only she wasn't Mutsu, she was a four-inch-tall version of the battleship Jane had decided her father was going to marry. This Mutsu—who Jane decided would be called Minimu—had a head nearly as large as the rest of her body, a tiny torso that was almost perfectly triangular, and tiny, stumpy limbs that hung quietly at her sides.

    "Eeeeee," Jane giggled and slammed her chin against the table in her haste to be at eye-level with Minimu. Not that she cared, she was too excited to even notice the pain. "Hi!"

    "Mu~" said Minimu with a gentle wave.

    "You're cute."

    "Muuu"

    "You hungry?"

    Minimu nodded.

    "Stay right there!" Jane darted off her chair, only to come back and give the tiny battleship a quiet one-fingered pat on the head.

    "Muuuuuu~"

    Jane giggled, and darted off to the kitchen. She wasn't sure what the little battleship would like, so she settled on a nice crisp apple. Jane liked candy, but she liked apples too. They were always delicious and made her want to do things.

    Also, the one she'd picked out was bigger than Minimu's head, and that was funny.

    "Here!" Jane handed the apple to the tiny battleship, who had to strain her tiny arms to hold onto it.

    Then, the girl just watched as Minimu enjoyed her meal. It took the little thing a few minutes to even figure out how to bite into the apple, but before long she was happily nomming away with her chubby little legs splayed out on the kitchen table.

    "You're so cute!"

    "Mu!" Minimu snapped a noise of protest as Jane squished her chubby cheek, but it was soon replaced by a contented "Muuuuu~"

    Jane giggled. She couldn't wait to show Mutsu-mama!
     
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    • Omake: Fairynapping
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    • Fairy Napping VII


    **


    Solace, her mind turned inward, was meeting with all of her officers in the dining room in officer country. The meeting was a planning session.

    From her position at the head of the long table, Solace looked down the table at the officer that had requested to speak about a potential problem. Boredom. "I don't understand, Captain, we all get bored sometimes."

    One of Solace's Navy Captains coughed into his fist, and Solace corrected herself. "Major." Then, after a moment, she continued. "Can't you do training or, well, read in your quarters?"

    Her ranking Marine officer nodded slowly. "Yes. And we are doing that. But eventually, there's going to be a problem, and no amount of training programs or shipboard recreation is going to solve it."

    Solace stared at the Marine for a moment. "Well, spit it out then, and let's do something about it."

    The Marine officer sighed. "Bored Marines are… different. Some of them like to read, others like sports, but, well, a lot of them like to fight. Even the ones that like to read and like sports will jump into a fight if you offer them one. We need that sort of attitude to do what we do. But when there is extended downtime, there can be issues."

    Two of her naval captains nodded sagely. Solace took their nods to be agreement based on experience.

    "So, what do you suggest, Major?"

    The Marine cracked his knuckles absently. "One thing that used to help was writing letters home, but, well, since we discovered that we've been dead for around seventy years, and humans can't seem to read what we write anyhow, writing letters to family just doesn't have a whole lot of attraction."

    "That's a problem most of the crew shares, Major." Solace spoke softly.

    He waved dismissively. "Nothing to be done for it, I agree. But we still need to address the boredom, and I have an idea that can potentially solve several of our problems."

    "I was hoping you had a solution for the problem you were bringing to us." Solace smiled.

    The Marine chuckled. "It's highly frowned on in the Marines to just complain, Ma'am. Sometimes the answers are not pleasant though, and I'm not sure how much you're going to like my proposal."

    "I can't comment until I hear them." She waved her right hand in the air in a rolling motion, indicating that he should speak further.

    "Well, we are in a major population center, and, as everyone is aware, there is a fairly significant crime problem."

    All the officers muttered in agreement. The would-be rapists that had attacked Solace a week ago hadn't been seen since, but she and her fairies had been buying papers and watching Television in her hotel room for most of that week, not actively hunting for them to make sure they left the city. Those same news sources had made it clear that crime was pretty bad in the docks area, as well as several other lower income sections of the city.

    The Marine let the muttering die down. "The money we got from the criminals won't last long. And it will disappear faster if we start spending it on things besides food, shelter, and news."

    Solace nodded. "Yes. We have about a week and a half of funds left at this rate." Four newspapers, the hotel's rent, and six buffet meals a day were taking a rapid toll on the twenty-five hundred dollars that she had taken from her attackers.

    "If you let us, we can make the money problem go away, and also deal with my men's boredom." The Marine paused. "As small as we are, we can hide and sneak around quite easily. We're more than a match for a human one on one, and if we are hurt, or even killed, we heal up good as new in just a day or two."

    "I see. You are proposing that I allow you to hunt criminals, and take their money?" She could feel herself frowning.

    The Major raised a finger before she could speak again. "Yes, but not only that. The police here need help. We've seen it on the news and in the papers. The criminals are hard for them to deal with. We'll be helping to support law and order."

    Solace leaned back in her chair, staring at the Marine. "So, you want to be vigilantes. That's not a whole lot better."

    The officer shrugged. "Yes, but that's not all. A lot of the people that are seriously hurt in the city are victims of gang-related violence. We aren't doctors, but that doesn't mean we can't help people."

    One of the medical staff spoke up. "How will you keep people from figuring out that Solace is here? We now know what she, and we, are. A shipgirl and crew. So far, there doesn't seem to be anything on the news to indicate anyone is looking for us, but if you start banging heads and taking money from criminals, that might change."

    "Retired." Solace muttered. "They had no need of me any longer. We don't have naval guns, and shipgirls and their crews don't need us to fight Abyssals. Humans need us."

    There was a nervous general consensus of agreement. Solace wasn't combative about it, but she clearly felt hurt by her forced retirement, years ago, even though she understood it.

    The facts were clear, even if Solace's reaction to them was not entirely rational. There was no news at all about non-warship shipgirls, except Vestal, but Vestal was useful to the war effort, since she apparently could act almost like a doctor for shipgirls. She was afraid to show up, and be found useless. What if humans could reverse the summoning? Solace had resisted returning to the world, but now that she was here, she could see she was needed. But not like other shipgirls.

    Even the Marine officer had finally agreed two days prior that Solace was not going to be much use in a battle against Abyssals.

    None of that was currently under discussion though, and the Marine shook his head slightly before continuing. "We need money for training aids. For document access, for references and books to study. All that is above and beyond the bare minimum required to keep you operational."

    "True, but we can find a way to make a living-"

    One of her Captains interrupted her with a cough. "Pardon me, ma'am, but I doubt it. You're undocumented. You don't have the skills that your crew does, and their knowledge is seventy years out of date, which is why you need a lot of money. You will have to take a low skill job, or an illegal job. The first won't pay enough, and the second won't go over very well with your crew."

    "We could set up a clinic-"

    Solace was interrupted as all of her medical officers started babbling angrily, all at once, some supporting her, most vehemently opposing.

    The Marine looked at her, and tilted his head towards the arguing medical staff.

    "I see your point, Major, and, yes, I agree it would be shady."

    He nodded. "Illegal. Not just shady. You would need at least a business license, I'm sure, and you're undocumented. Also, you would be exposing your medical crew to be seen by people who could recognize them, and lead the military to you. People that you couldn't threaten to be quiet."

    Solace stood and paced back and forth, the eyes of all her officers on her. She was living in a grey world. She wanted to help people, but she was useless against Abyssals. Her medical staff had seen enough about modern medicine to feel very insecure about their skills. Her money, gathered by violence against criminals, was quickly running out.

    But she did have two hundred Bored Marines, with skills that were quite well-suited for preying on human predators. Unfortunately, even if they were sneaky, they would certainly be seen, eventually, which might lead people to her.

    Unless.

    She stopped pacing and smiled. "Major, I agree with your suggestion, but we're going to have to set Rules of Engagement, and alter your uniforms."

    **

    One Week Later

    **

    Detective Wilbur Sanson stared up at the decorations hanging from the street lamps. One of the decorations stirred, apparently starting to wake up. A week ago, he would have never believed it would become a daily occurrence to find gang members dressed as French maids hanging from street lamps, drugged with chloroform.

    He waved at the ten officers and the forensics team that had converged on the scene when it had been reported. "You know the drill, boys and girls. Set a perimeter. Get pictures, then get them down. See if they have evidence on them like the last ones."

    The officers and forensics technicians leapt into action, yellow tape and ladders, cameras everywhere.

    As he looked around, Wilbur saw brightly-colored movement in an odd place, a spot of green and red on a nearby rooftop, but it was gone before he could focus. He dragged his gaze along all the nearby rooflines, looking for anything else out of the ordinary, with no luck.

    Three smartphones were found, and contained videos of drug deals, extortion, and the first two blows of an assault against a woman. Each ganger had a piece of coal and a very detailed list of 'naughty deeds' they had committed in their apron pocket.

    A reporter arrived and started pestering him as he supervised the scene. "So, Detective Sanson, Santa's Elves struck again?"

    "Off the record. It looks like it." Wilbur agreed, hands clasped behind his back as he watched his people wok, and watched the rooflines with his peripheral vision.

    "Anything on the record, yet?" The young woman asked as her cameraman surveyed the scene of police officers cutting men in French maid outfits loose of the bonds holding them suspended from streetlamps.

    "No. I'm not commenting on the record on anything this weird. I'll leave that to the commissioner."

    "Looks like the same people did this? Or copycats? Or are the gangers all still saying Santa's Elves attacked them?"

    Wilbur sighed, thinking about the green and red blur he'd just seen. "Off the record. No comments from these people yet. They are still drugged." He paused, considering. The commissioner had already issued a press conference that morning, so he wasn't spilling any beans. "On the record. The ones from yesterday are sticking to their story."

    The reporter raised an eyebrow. "The commissioner said that already, but it is strange. Do they actually believe it? What's your take?"

    Wilbur chuckled. "Again, off the record. I think the world is becoming a very strange place, ma'am. We have monsters in the ocean, and our old warships are coming back as young ladies and girls. I really wouldn't be surprised if Santa Claus has come to town."

    "In September?" The reporter gave him a lopsided grin. "That would confuse people, I'd think."

    He snorted and raised both hands in a rapid hands-up gesture indicating confusion. "Why not? Maybe he's making up for not being around for the last few hundred years."
     
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