Remove ads

Belated Battleships (KanColle) [REHOST]

Reader mode
theJMPer said:
Someone asked what Wash's been up to...

Part 37



North Carolina class battleship Washington pursed her lips, staring up at the brilliant crescent moon. Night was not a battleship's natural element. True, she'd earned her moment of glory under the cover of darkness, but even with her exhaustive suite of advanced radar, she couldn't hope to claim she owned the night.

At best, she merely rented it, sneaking the odd scrap from the banquet table of the night's true owners. Submarines. With no airplanes to spot them from above, nor light to detect their surfaced hulls, Submarines were as at home in the dark of night as they were in the dark of the depth.

Ever since Jersey's convoy left for Japan, the Abyssals had stepped up their efforts, including their submarine patrols. It'd gotten so bad that Williams simply couldn't afford the several hours it took Wash to steam up the Puget Sound and down the coast to wherever she was needed.

Which was why the battleship was out steaming lazy circles around an imaginary anchor point twenty miles off the coast of her namesake state. She could be anywhere between the Straight of Juan de Fuca and the port of Astoria inside of two hours if she had to be.

It was a rather boring assignment most of the time. She'd spend endless hours sailing in random circles while she tried as hard as she could not to think about submarines. It'd be hard enough to spot a Mark 14 in this gloom, let alone one of the bubble-less Japanese fish.

But tonight… the big battleship wasn't scared at all. Crowning and his team of slightly-crazy sailors might not have produced another battleship, but they'd delivered her a clutch of adorable escorts of her own.

"Hear anything?" asked Wash, her hands resting loosely on her hips as she threw her rudder over.

The diminutive form of DE-635, USS England held up a finger as she glided to a stop. Her button nose was scrunched up, and concentration oozed from her doll-like features a she focused on the sounds coming though her over sized SONAR headphones. The girl held one tiny hand against her earpiece, pressing it tight against her ear to make sure she caught every little sound.

Wash smiled at the little girl. Her first few weeks back as girl had been terribly lonely, but it was all worthy it for the lovely company she'd been graced with.

Finally, England pulled her headset up, her turbines humming to life as she caught up to her flagship. "We're good," she said, her cheeks puffing into a smile as her little chest swelled with pride. "Not even a whale!"

"Aww nuts." Wash's other escort, the far more precocious but equally adorable USS Boriemade an exaggerated scowl, one of her little fists resting against the pocket knife she wore on her gunbelt.

Wash smiled, reaching out to ruffle the hair of both her escorts. "Now now, you'll have your chance at action."

England shrugged, her oversized coat dragging behind her as she steamed a lazy course in a generally cuddle-wards direction. Meanwhile, Borie made finger-guns at random patches of ocean, complete with obligatory "pew pew" sound effects.

Wash laughed. It was good to be with friends, even if she did miss her sister so.

"Washington, this is Cominch" the tightly-wound voice of an Everett operations chief rattled though the battleship's radio room.

"Go for Washingtion," replied the battleship, instinctively resting two fingers against her ear for no readily apparent reason.

"Astoria's under attack," the voice slipped into cold, soulless rote as it rattled off the details of an attack in progress, "One, possibly two dreadnauts plus escorts. They're requested heavy gun support."

"Copy," said Washington, glancing at the 'GPS' on her 'phone' and doing a quick bit of mental arithmetic. "Making for Astoria at best possible speed. Eta two hours."

She signaled her escorts to form up on her as she threw her rudder hard over. Her turbines roared into life as she spooled up to her full twenty-eight knot sprint. "Will we have air cover?"

"Air Force is scrambling Vipers, but…" A resigned sigh, "They can't see shit in this light."

Wash scowled. She was a gunfighter, but she'd seen enough Carrier Air Groups in action to realize the awesome power of a proper airborne strike. She solely wished she had proper backup from above.

But she had her duty to do regardless.

"England," said Wash, glancing at the slow little Destroyer Escort.

"Mmm?" the little girl stared back at Wash with enormous sea-green eyes.

"I'm sorry, kiddo," said Wash, her five knot advantage already starting to build up distance, "Divert back to Everett. The coasties will escort you back."

"Okay," mumbled the little Destroyer Escort. Her shoulders slumped like half-filled sandbags at the thought of leaving her charge, but she didn't try and deviate from her course home.

"I'll nab one for ya!" cheered Borie, waving her little knife so energetically she almost dropped it in the inky-black water.

"Borie?" asked Wash with a smiling sigh.

"Yeah, boss?"

"Are you planning on stabbing a dreadnought?"

"No?" Borie shrugged, "But, you know… if the opportunity arises…"

Wash shot her a look, and the destroyer sheepishly put her knife away, mumbling something about "better than those fish…"

—|—|—

Wash heard the battle before she saw it. The rolling thunder of heavy guns ripple-firing rumbled though the still night air like an angry drumbeat. It mixed with the equally-thunderous sounds of shore-batteries, the crash of shells exploding against water and shore alike, and the occasional scream of "YASEN!"

Borie smiled a grin that seemed—somehow—to consist of nothing but razor-sharp canines as she stared in the general direction of the battle. Luckily, she glanced to Wash for permission before she bolted off to torpedo something.

"Stay tight on me," said Wash, squinting into the blackness as she tried to make sense of the muddled mess of radar returns she was getting. At this distance, all she could gather from the chaotic muck was that there were ships out there.

Which she knew already.

She couldn't break radio silence to contact the local fleet. Not without giving away her position. Direction-finding loops were a thing after all even in the forties. And even giving away her existence could cost her the precious element of surprise.

Luckily, this wasn't the forties. The battleship fished her phone out of her pocket and tapped in the lock code with her free hand. She still hadn't gotten the hang of typing on the featureless screen, but she could work the morse keyboard almost as fast as she could an actual key.

It took her all of a few seconds to get in touch with the local naval authorities, and a scant few more for her call to be bounced to the flotilla leader.

"Yo, Name's Maya," A surprisingly relaxed voice spoke over the rumble of gunfire, "Nice to-"

"YASEN!" screamed another voice.

"SENDAI! For the fuck of fucking fuck! I'm on a call!"

Wash blinked. "Maya, this is USS Washington," the battleship endeavored to keep her demeanor calm and professional in the face of such a battle-weary cruiser. "I'm here to assist."

"Gotcha," Maya grunted, and Wash heard a number of splashed that sounded like shells landing far to close for comfort. "Me 'n the girls knocked out the escorts, but there's one dread left, and we're all fresh outta fish."

Wash nodded, staring out into the soup of gloomy night and blazing muzzle flashes. She was almost close enough to get a good firing solution, but on what. She couldn't see well enough to distinguish friend from foe, and the battleship refused to have more friendly blood on her hands.

"Be advised," said Wash, "I can't acquire a target."

"Don't you have that fancy radar shit?"

"I do," said Wash, bristling internally at her top-of-the-line radar-assisted fire control being derided as 'radar shit.' "But it can't tell friend from foe."

"Heh, is that all?" Maya grunted as yet another volley bracketed her far too close for comfort. The heavy cruiser didn't seem that upset however, "Just tell us when you're in position and we'll illium that fucker."

Wash scowled. Using one's searchlights in a night battle was asking to be shot out of the water, especially if one as already being bracketed. "Illuminating at that range? Is that safe?"

"Eh, probably not. But Yasen-Baka-"

"Yasen!"

"-lives for that shit. Just give the word, Washington."

Wash nodded. One eye was glued to her radar as she steamed in, watching the range data plummet as she closed the distance to her ignorant prey. Ten thousand yards… nine… eight… seven… six….

"Now!"

"Light 'em up!"

Searchlights from a half-dozen ships erupted to life, bathing the Abyssal dreadnought in light. Every detail of its twisted carapace was on display, its six turrets skewed at every angle as they focused on every shipgirl at once. Its towering masts shown like polished bone in the manmade glow, and its stacks belched sickly black smoke.

Just looking at the horrid thing made Wash's stomach churn, but she had the advantage. While it struggled to bring its turrets to bear, hers were already within degrees of a perfect solution. Her guns were loaded, her solution perfected, her target was showing a fat broadside.

At this range, she simply couldn't miss.

"FIRE!" bellowed the battleship, her nine 16in/45s barking their thunderous reply. The massive Mark 8 rounds tore though the dreadnought's belt armor like it was tissue paper, burrowing deep into the citadel before exploding.

Great gouts of flame erupted from the dreadnought's superstructure, and Wash's secondaries opened fire, hosing down every exposed surface with high-exposive rounds.

While Wash reloaded her main batteries, Borie sprinted ahead, adding her torpedoes into the mix while her little four inch guns blasted away at anything that looked shootable. Wash even swore she heard the tiny ting of a pocketknife bouncing against battleship armor.

The dreadnought, already slowed by the damage Wash's first salvo had incurred, couldn't maneuver fast enough to avoid the spread of torpedoes. Two of them were duds, bouncing off the hull with an infuriating clang!. But the rest stuck true.

Geysers rippled down the dreadnought's side as its torpedo bulges were torn open by more explosive than they were ever intended to handle. The twisted abomination of a ship slumped to the side as water poured into her.

Wash felt her main guns slam back into battery. She had nine more rounds to deliver, and she refused to allow the Abyssal warship to remain afloat. Not after firing on her homeland.

She folded her arms, letting her guns speak as one. The deadly chorus of American Steel thundered over the ocean, crating the water with their voices.

The first hit sealed the Abyssal's face. A single 2700 pound shell burrowed its way into the dreadnought's after magazine, touching off an explosion that tore the ship almost in half. The next eight merely removed any glimmer of doubt.

The dreadnought was denied even the privilege of sinking gracefully. A boiler explosion and detonation of the amidships magazine tore what was left of the ship into unrecognizable shrapnel. In an instant, the ship simply ceased to be, leaving nothing behind but a slick of burning oil at the mouth of the Colombia river.

Wash smiled. Tonight had not been a boring night.
Click to expand...
Click to shrink...
Woohoo! More Wash! And more girls too. Borie, England, Maya, and Yasen-Baka! It is a good day. And holy shit Maya has a mouth on her. XD

I love the fact that Borie actually went fuck it and tried to stab a dread. With a knife. USS Borie tried to stab a dreadnought and that is awesome. I can't wait to see more of her. She'll be a really good foil to Washington from what I can wager. Poor England though. She'll need some proper cuddles when they get back to base.

I love Maya. She's like a shorter, angrier Jersey. Sendai must be driving her up the wall to no end.

The battle was really good. Short and sweet, but packing a lot of punch. Well, it's obviously going to pack a punch when you've got a NorCal saying hello, but still. I really liked it. Wash just tore that thing to shreds like it was nothing. And the lighting was a really cool touch. :D

EDIT: And I just remembered that Maya and Chokai are of the Takao class. LIttle sisters of those ludicrously top heavy ladies. Huh...
 
Last edited:
still_guns said:
I guessing, that because she has 4-inch guns, our Borie is the old Clemson Borie DD-215?
Click to expand...
Click to shrink...
Yep! The one that got into a literal knife-fight with a submarine.
Old Iron said:
Woohoo! More Wash! And more girls too. Borie, England, Maya, and Yasen-Baka! It is a good day. And holy shit Maya has a mouth on her. XD
Click to expand...
Click to shrink...
Maya's spent enough time in America to pick up swearing. She's just not very good at it yet.
Old Iron said:
I love the fact that Borie actually went fuck it and tried to stab a dread. With a knife. USS Borie tried to stab a dreadnought and that is awesome. I can't wait to see more of her. She'll be a really good foil to Washington from what I can wager. Poor England though. She'll need some proper cuddles when they get back to base.
Click to expand...
Click to shrink...
Well, you know... it can't hurt. And who knows, maybe Mr. Pointy will hit some particularly sensitive bit. I might show a bit more of her and England from time to time, but they're really part of the "B-team" of Kanmusu. Most of the time, they'll be doing convoy runs and such while Jersey, Wash, and their divisions wreck things.
Old Iron said:
EDIT: And I just remembered that Maya and Chokai are of the Takao class. LIttle sisters of those ludicrously top heavy ladies. Huh...
Click to expand...
Click to shrink...
Yeah, but they fixed the top-heaviness problem. Maya and Choukai aren't particularly stacked. Much to Jersey's happiness.
 
Old Iron said:
I love the fact that Borie actually went fuck it and tried to stab a dread. With a knife. USS Borie tried to stab a dreadnought and that is awesome.
Click to expand...
Click to shrink...
A pocketknife! Maybe a 2-inch blade. Washington needs to get the girl a proper k-bar, or one of those things Crocodile Dundee was waving around. :D

Uh, and maybe some training from the Marines. :eyebrow:

Or a leash.
 
So since all the WW2 flattops lack cats, I assume its ok to make basic steam cats compound bows, for refrence?

Also, destroyer escorts are tiny little escorts.
 
Another Sighting of West Virginia

Omake: Ghosts of Pearl pt 2

"Thank God you showed up when you did." Admiral John Kimmel said stepping around his desk to shake West Virginia's hand. "They were probably going to go for a third wave when you showed up and hit them like that. If they had done that we wouldn't have a thing to throw at them at all." At this point he sighed. "As it is we barely have enough to hold the islands, maybe."

"Sir, do you know how I got here?" West Virginia asked.

"Unfortunately, no I don't," he answered. "There is supposed to be this big summoning ceremony to call those like you from your rest, but you just appeared." He looked pensive for a few minutes as he sat back in his chair and gestured for her to sit as well. "Maybe we can summon some of your sister's here," he half said half asked his tone hopeful.

"I don't know sir." West Virginia answered. "I came because I could hear the screams and cries. People needed me so I came. It wouldn't hurt to try I suppose though." She replied

Admiral Kimmel nodded. "I'll get on the horn to Admiral Richardson in Japan shortly," he said looking at the clock. "It's way too late to talk to anyone in DC, and not likely that Professor Crowning will be awake in Everett, so that will have to wait till tomorrow. Until then I know you must be hungry so why don't I have one of the yeomen take you down to the mess and fill those fuel bunkers?" he finished with a smile.

"Thank you sir," West Virginia replied. Getting something to fuel her sounded good right then.
...
West Virginia sighed as the Lance Corporal gathered the last of the dishes on the tray, "Would you like anything else Ma'am?" he asked.

"No James," she answered taking a drink from her glass of cola. "I think that last round of fried chicken did me in," at that the Lance Corporal chuckled and she couldn't hold back her own grin. The Admiral had not been able to find any Navy personnel who were not up to their eyeballs in trying to straighten things out after the attack. The Marines on the other hand were rotating between security, recovery and rest, and after calling the senior Marine on station was detailed a fire team under the Lance Corporal to see to the battleship's security and care. West Virginia was just thankful that the Lance Corporal was a bit of a book worm and a history buff, it allowed him to carry on a decent conversation while she ate.

Food was another novel thing for her. The general mess was serving fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and gravy, with a choice of biscuits or cornbread as well as a half dozen different vegetables in addition to the salad bar. A drink dispenser sat in the open for general serving allowing someone to refill their glass as much as he or she wanted. The tastes and textures were something for her to marvel at to begin with but after the first plate it was more about stoking her boilers and the Lance Corporal was all to happy to keep her supplied. She was sure he ate his meal as well while they were there, but how much he ate was lost in her mind amongst the food and conversation.

Finally filled up however, West Virginia thought about what should be next. The Admiral was going to talk to people about the summoning ceremony, but she didn't know how well that was going to work since it seemed like few had been called so far. Maybe they had been doing something wrong, or maybe they just needed someone else to call for them.
 
Remove ads
Omake: An Old Cat
  • Threadmarks
    • Took longer than I thought it would, but here's the second Tiger Omake.

    Omake: A Cat's Dilemma​

    "Hey, Tiger!"

    "Yes?"

    "You busy?"

    HMS Tiger sighed softly, as she looked over at the excitable girl next to her. The girl's short red hair was tied back by a bandanna, sweat stained black cloth contrasting heavily with her tanned skin. Her brown eyes, on the other hand, were bright and staring up at the taller girl. Staring above a cocky grin, as the girl stretched her arms out, pulling the fabric of a very non-regulation t-shirt along with it. At the least, her out-of-uniform outfit didn't have much to stretch on. If Tiger were small compared to a proper battleship, this girl was even smaller in the bust department. Bigger than a cruiser, but that was about the most that could be said.

    Not that she seemed to care, stretching her long legs as well. Patched-up khaki shorts rode up those legs, the tanned and heavily muscled limbs kicking aimlessly at the water they were standing on. Tiger payed no mind to that, her attention focused on the exit to Sydney Harbor, watching for any sign of Abyssals. The girl next to her realized that, jetting in front of the battlecruiser, her grin never once leaving her face. Tiger just sighed, directing her attention back to her predecessor.

    "Come on Tiger, how much longer until you're done eh?" HMAS Australia complained, the older battlecruiser looking out at the Pacific, "Nothin ever happens anyway mate."

    "I'm aware," Tiger replied.

    But this is all I can do, and I will not fail at it.

    That was left unsaid, because the British battlecruiser knew her Australian counterpart knew that very well. Australia sighed heavily, kicking at the water again.

    "Look, all work and no play is boring. You need to go out into the outback some time or something, stretch those..." the girl gestured at Tiger's longer legs, maybe a hint of jealousy in her voice.

    Not that it was the British girl's fault that her larger hull and engines translated into legs rivaling newer battleships.

    "I would think you'd understand why we need to stay on patrol," Tiger softly pointed out, a significant look at the burnt out Opera House in the distance.

    Australia just sighed again, "Right right...just think you need a break sometimes mate. Ever since the Admiral got on your case, you've been spending all your time out here."

    "It is my job."

    "But even soldiers need a break."

    This was a familiar argument, and had Tiger smiling ever so slightly, despite herself. While she was still uncomfortable sailing with the destroyers and forcing them to adjust their training to stay with her, patrolling like this? That was something she was perfectly fine with doing. It kept her from growing soft, and it was something that even she could do. It wasn't to say she enjoyed mindless rotations like this, but Tiger would take what she could get. This allowed her to serve in her own way, a way that she could handle.

    Of course, while it worked for her, since the British girl was well aware of her limitations...it didn't do the same for Australia. Much as one could expect, that girl was all for the action and getting out and fighting. Even more so, perhaps, because of the way she was summoned. Summoning oneself, in defense of the nation she shared a name with? Australia was unsurprisingly all for taking the fight to the Abyssals and getting them away from Australia and New Zealand. This, despite the fact she was as obsolete as a battlecruiser could get, even more so than Tiger herself.

    Still, she knew that Australia was just being caring, in her own very strange way.

    "'Sides, I think that a certain someone is interested in seeing you~"

    Tiger turned slowly, violet eyes narrowing slightly at the teasing look on the other girl's face, "I beg your pardon?"

    "You know exactly what I'm talking about mate," Australia's grin didn't fade in the slightest.

    "Yes...I do."

    "Let's both be honest here Tiger, you need a break and she's interested in seeing you. Why waste time out here?"

    The teasing tone aside, the British girl could tell her dominion counterpart wasn't joking. Still...

    "I should be on duty, not spending time with Amy," Tiger sighed softly.

    "All work and no play..." Australia repeated, looking out at the exit of the harbor, "And I know you like spending time with her. Even though she bugs the bloody hell out of ya, but hey, who am I to judge?"

    That wasn't a lie, really. Tiger felt a wistful smile cross her face, as she looked up at the cloudless sky. It was true, that the excitable teenager in question could oftentimes bug the more formal Tiger. Or, at the least, push her buttons rather well. Even so, that didn't mean she didn't like spending time with her. It was...well, it was a nice break from the job. The battlecruiser didn't mind her work, and was happy when she was able to do something, even if it wasn't what she would want. But since fighting it out was something she couldn't do anymore...

    Well, having a distraction was nice on occasion.

    But, that didn't change the fact she was on duty right now, and she needed to continue watching for Abyssals. Honestly, Australia was the one who could be spending time with the teenager, not Tiger. Her older counterpart was the one off-duty at the moment. Which was why her coming out here to bug her, had just lead to Tiger ignoring her at first. Australia should be back on shore, not out here.

    Still, I wouldn't mind spending time with Amy...but I have to stay out here.

    It was a problem, to be sure. Between what she wanted to do, and what she had to do.

    "Hey, Tiger?" Australia's voice spoke up again.

    "What now?" the British girl sighed.

    "Why don't you head back, and I take over your patrol?"

    Tiger's head swiveled around so fast it was a miracle she didn't snap her neck. Even so, she had to bring a hand up and rub at her neck with a small wince, as Australia- the little jerk -giggled at her. Even as she held a hand to stop her giggles though, the tanned girl nodded back at the docks.

    "You didn't hear me wrong," she explained, noting the look on Tiger's face.

    "But you..." Tiger began to protest, before snapping her jaw shut with a long-suffering look on her own paler face, "You never want to be on patrol."

    "Of course not!" Australia looked aghast at the very suggestion, "I bloody hate patrols! I'd rather be out fighting Abyssals. But, well, I can take one for the team mate. You need to go see Amy."

    The battlecruiser looked at her feet, "Why do I get the feeling I'm missing something..."

    "You worry too much. Just go back already, ya hear?"

    Tiger wanted to argue the point, she really did. Her duty was out here, and she needed to do something for her nation- or, at least her nation's sister. But, on the other hand...there was the part of her that really wanted to see the teenager. Nothing was ever easy in her life, was it? Even so, Tiger felt another small smile cross her face as she looked over at the other battlecruiser. Australia wasn't her favorite person to be around, but her elder knew what to say sometimes. She wasn't serious for the most part, but...

    Well, even the most joking of people could be serious on occasion.

    "Thank you," Tiger nodded at the older girl.

    Australia just waved lazily, "Thank me later."

    Shaking her head with her small smile refusing to leave, Tiger spun around and began to make her way back to dock. She wondered why Amy, the Admiral's niece, wanted to spend time with her today. But she wasn't going to turn it down...even if the girl was a good deal younger than even the battlecruiser's physical appearance, she always had something interesting to talk about...
     
    Last edited:
  • Threadmarks
    • "Ping..." Finale
  • Threadmarks
    • Ping... Finale
    ​
    It took the best part of three hours for Albacore to make it back to the ocean she belonged in. The base as waking up around her, and she had to move even slower and more cautiously than before. It didn't help that her stomach was still growling its indignation at her. The food she'd scrounged from little Jane had barely been enough to dull the pangs of her hunger, and thinking of the succulent cake she had passed up almost made up the difference.

    Albacore loved her cake, it was one of the precious few luxuries her crew had enjoyed. And she had to walk away from a perfectly good cake to live off… off whatever it was she kept finding in the dumpsters behind the restaurants the passed. The packages were all labeled in Jap scratch, obviously. The subgirl wasn't entirely certain what she was eating, other than some of it was noodles and at least one item was actually just a box.

    She found it slightly worrisome that she'd been so hungry she'd ate most of a cardboard box before realizing it was, in fact, cardboard. But she was a submarine of the US navy. Doing miracles with supply lines that'd make shoestrings look lavish was in her blood. So to speak. The subgirl wasn't sure if she had blood or not. Ideally, she wouldn't find out for a while.

    By the time she finally made it back to the comforting ocean embrace, the first rays of sun were starting to glimmer on the horizon. Jap ASW might be hilariously bad, but eventheycould spot a sub running on the surface in broad daylight. Especially from the air, Albacore's heart—if she had one—was racing a million revs a minute as she slipped into the water, her long legs powering her out to the open sea.

    She glanced at the glowing dial of her watch. She should have another hour or so before there was enough light for air operations. If she couldn't reach water deep enough tofucking fade in by then… well, she didn't really want to- wait.

    The sound of high-speed screws screamed though the submarine's sonar, and she could see a-

    Albacore blinked. It was only her submarine instincts that caused her to run for the bottom and go silent as night, the human part of her brain was frozen. The sight ahead of her was so bizarre… so incomprehensibly strange that her mind just gave up even trying to explain it.

    A destroyer, obviously Japanese by the design, rocketed across the water with all the speed of a chastened PT boat. Except it wasn't any mere destroyer… it was… a stripper destroyer? Her skirt was the tiniest thing Albacore had ever seen. Her mind couldn't even comprehend a piece of fabric so small, and from her position below the waves, the subgirl could see clear up it.

    Albacore was no stranger to observing horrible things though her scope, but this took the cake—mmm… cake—for the worst thing her optics had ever observed. But she couldn't look away. Even if she'd been somehow able to peel her eyes off her periscope, she had to know if that destroyer spotted her.

    There was precious little water under her keel, but dammit, the USS Albacore would put up a fight before she sank!

    Thankfully, the destroyer-slut was too busy rocketing across the waves way to damn fast to notice Albacore. What little noise the sub generated as she held her breath was all but lost in the destroyer's roaring turbines. In fact, her turbines probably drowned out the horrified screamed of her parents at that disgusting little outfit!

    At that speed, there was no way the destroyer could hear her. But if she was doing a sprint-and-drift… Albacore didn't want to think about it. This water was too shallow to offer any protection.

    She waited a good thirty minutes before moving again. She couldn't afford to screw up, not here. Not now… She felt her heart pounding in her skull, her fingers quivered as she checked her luminescent watch.

    Thirty minutes… She was clear to move. Albacore spooled up her electric motors, creeping out of the harbor at her frustratingly low top-submerged speed of nine knots. It took her an hour to break out into water deep enough for her to really feel safe. Or as safe as a hungry Gato could this far behind enemy lines.

    The submarine glided to periscope depth, spinning her scope around as she checked for anyone that might notice her. Sonar was clear, but it never hurt to check twice. Lazy sub skippers didn't tend to live very long. There wasn't any hint of surface ships or aircraft… or anything for that matter. Albacore was sitting right under a thick fog bank.

    Which suited her just as well, she could surface and stretch her legs a little. Her air-search radar would give her enough warning for her to hit the bottom before any Jap planes spotted her. It as a risk, but cruising at twenty-one knots was worth it.

    But Albacore had one last decision to make… where to sail. Her fuel tanks weren't the fullest, but she could reach Pearl, maybe even California if she pushed herself. The Submarine wasn't afraid to admit she was scared. She was lost and hungry, and all she knew was that she was surrounded by Jap forces.

    Well… that wasn't true. She also knew she had a full load of fish. Albacore scowled to herself. She was hungry… but she'd scavenged for herself, she could do it again. She was scared, but since when was that new.

    She was a Gato class submarine of the United States Navy. She wasn't running from a fight, not when her hull was sound and her fish were hot.

    Albacore picked a course at random—south, as the case was—and steered herself along it. This might go down in history as the strangest war patrol a submarine ever sailed. But dammit, she was gonna sail it. Come hell or high water!

    —|—|—

    Albacore'd been sailing for almost three hours when she spotted the impossible. Two battleships steaming hard into the waves without so much as a dinghy to escort them. The submarine felt her mouth start to water, and not just from the salty brine she swam in. Two juicy targets steaming along dead-straight… even if they had sonar and depth charges, there was no way in hell they'd hear her over their own turbines.

    She recognized the first battleship right off the bat. A Jap Kongou class, probably Hiei from the superstructure. Which was weird as hell since she was certain Hiei had sunk in 1942. The worrisome part was that wasn't even the strangest thing.

    The other battleship was… distinctly American. Her chubby hull was adorned with two towering lattice masts, and her gleaming paint had none of the wartime grime Albacore associated with a working battleship. It almost looked like…

    Albacore gasped, swallowing a lungful of seawater when she spotted the battleship's hull number. She slammed her scope down, slumping back from the eyepiece in bewilderment.

    BB-39

    Arizona.

    The Arizona.

    What the FUCK?

    This wasn't possible. This couldn't be happening… and yet it was. Arizona, the martyr of Pearl, was steaming side by side with a Jap battleship. Before even that could fully process, Albacore watched both battleships bring their guns to bear on yet another ship.

    The sub felt her stomach churn as she spotted the object of Arizona's ire. Equal parts battleship and demon, the twisted ugly.. thing sent Albacore's heart racing in furious anger. It waswrong. It was evil and wrong. It must be removed.

    The Submarine smiled as Arizona and Hiei's guns barked their furious invocation at the demonic thing. She had to fight back the urge to blow her ballast and zoom-climb with a roaring scream.

    That… thing would die. And she had just the fish to kill it with.

    Above her. Arizona closed in for the kill, her massive armor bouncing shells that would rip the little submarine open from stem to stern. Rounds poured into the reborn super-dreadnought, tearing at her clothes and punched though her shattered belt.

    Arizona… the Arizona, the martyr of Pearl was going to die once more. She was fighting back with every tooth and claw she had, brawling like a caged bear. But it just wasn't enough.

    The bastardized excuse for a battleship engaging her had found its range. Its guns barked in murderous hate. Its armor angled perfectly against Arizona's defiant turrets…

    And its hull placed squarely in the sub's firing solution.

    Albacore fired her first two torpedoes, her eyes glued to her scope as she watched the bubble trails race towards their mark. Impact in five… four… three… no. No NO!

    The Mark fourteen torpedoes lazily yawed off course, their bubble trails making their deviation painfully evident as they sailed clean past their target and into fucking nowhere.

    "Goddamnit," grunted Albacore. She couldn't even spare the anger for a proper furious outburst. She still had four fish in her tubes, her TDC still worked. So suck the gyros, fuck the BuOrd, and FUCK THAT BATTLESHIP!

    "Die you fucker," breathed Albacore, rippling off all four of her remaining tubes and slamming her motors to flank. She closed her eyes in a silent prayer. Run straight. Just this once, run fucking straight.

    Albacore opened her eyes once more, throwing her rudder hard over to bring her stern tubes to bear. She couldn't believe it. Four fish left her bow tubes… and four bubble trails ran straight as arrows at the twisted excuse for a warship. Four fish slammed into their targets square and true.

    And four explosions erupted along the battleship's hull, signaling four troublesome exploders somehow all working at once.

    "YES!" screamed Albacore, pumping her fist as adrenaline flooded her system. She emptied her stern tubes into the listing battleship, but her fish were beaten to the punch by a salvo of fourteen inch shells from The Martyr of Pearl.

    "FUCK YES! FINISH HER, ARIZONA!"
     
  • Threadmarks
    • The victory feast for this battle is going to be epic, especially since I think that Albacore is going to match the battleships dish by dish.
     
    So in this universe, munitions are still prone to misfires instead of working perfectly? Well, then…
     
    This just brings up, how long till she gets to re-arm with the 'Good Stuff'?

    I am curious how she will react to meeting a certain Jap sub, now with a tan and sunny smile?
     
    Reader mode
    You must login or register to reply here.
    Remove ads
    Back
    Top