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Belated Battleships (KanColle) [REHOST]

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The Grand Return
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    • --Mini-update 'cause I'll be busy for the next while.--

    To her immense frustration, Sarah Gale didn't—yet—look pregnant. Every morning she'd wake up and—after prying a gorgeous but excessively cuddly North Carolina off her—give her middle a quick inspection. Thus far, the only bump she'd noticed was a tiny glimmer of roundness that could've been wishful thinking or a trick of the light. It wasn't, Wash lent a few marines with survey gear to make exhaustively detailed measurements, but still. Whatever baby bump the sailor had developed all but vanished into the baggy digital abyss of her utilities, taking with it the very tangible totem of her and Wash's love.

    She wouldn't have been nearly as annoyed if Mutsu hadn't given her middle its own Instagram account. Admittedly, the Japanese battlewagon had a much larger public-relations profile than some no-name Sailor did. And was married to the next CNO's dad. And had a magnificently toned belly to start with that her armored micro skirt was always showing off. And was carrying twins.

    Okay, there were a lot of very valid reasons Mutsu's twins were in the news more than the child in Gale's belly, but it didn't make the sailor any less grumpy.

    Luckily, she could blame the hormones and move on. Because while she might not lookpregnant, she most assuredly felt pregnant. In that her stomach felt like it was stuffed full of lead shot and she had an uncontrollable craving for chicken liver and clams at all hours of the day. She'd never much cared for clams before, but now she couldn't get enough.

    "This seat taken?" Doctor Crowning smiled at the sailor with far less-laden tray balanced on one hand.

    "Nah," Gale shook her head and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. She was starting to understand why Jersey ate like a starving eight year old boy, but she hadn't quite given into her carnal temptations just yet. "Go ahead."

    Crowning set his tray down and smiled. "You're looking good."

    Gale rolled her eyes. "You can't even tell I'm pregnant!" She snapped with a tiny bit more vitriol than she meant.

    "Mmm," Crowning glanced over the carnage of shells littering Gale's half of the table. "You're eating for…" he made a show of counting, then shrugged with a smirk. "I'm not a math guy, afraid I can't count that high."

    Gale narrowed her eyes and took an angry mouthful of liver.

    "How's Wash doing?"

    "Well…" Gale shrugged. "She's stopped puking every morning."

    Crowning shuddered. "That's good to hear." He glanced out into the gray waters of the Puget Sound. "She's… it's okay for her to be out there, right?"

    "Vestal says so," said Gale. "Her womb's deep inside her citadel. As long as she's afloat, the kid's fine as can be. Or… something like that."

    "You want her back?" asked Crowning in a tone far from inquisitive.

    "Yeah," Gale nodded. "She'd never go for it though. We need battleships. Just getting her to accept light duty was a pain in the aft."

    "Ass," said Crowning.

    "What?"

    "You said aft."

    Gale narrowed her eyes. "Did not."

    Crowning just nodded.

    "Motherfucker, they've got me doing it too."

    Crowning chuckled for a moment, but his face quickly went still. "So, I've been thinking…"

    "Huh?"

    "We should be loosing this war," said Crowning. "We should've already lost it, right? I'm no expert on naval matters. But the abyss holds most of the oceans, and without our satellites or all the other trappings of modern technology they should've rolled right over us, right?"

    "They did, doc," said Gale. "We lost four decks in three hours. Most of China is just fucking gone."

    "But they stopped," said Crowning. "They've stopped and we're holding the line. We're even pushing them back in places. Why?"

    Gale shrugged. "Dammit, I don't know, doc! Maybe they've…" She trailed off. She didn't have the slightest idea. But Crowning was staring straight at her belly, and he had that look in his eyes. "Doc?"

    "Gale," Crowning's voice was only tangentially connected with the world in general, his mind clearly a million miles ahead. "Did you read the report from Woody island?"

    "The maternity ward shit?" Gale shuddered. For the first time in more than a month, she lost her appetite entirely. "Yeah, that was fucked—oh."

    "How much have you been eating?" asked Crowning.

    "I…" Gale shook her head. "I don't know, a lot? You think they've got a supply problem?"

    Crowning nodded. "It makes sense, doesn't it? They blew everything on one massive blow, but now they're settling in for the long haul."

    "Okay," Gale blinked. "Ignoring how you changed sports mid-metaphor there… the only territory they really old are tiny islands. You sure as hell couldn't feed… Jersey or whatever from one of those."

    "Maybe it's not food," said Crowning. "Maybe there's something else they need that we're not seeing, but… there is something they need."

    Before Gale could say anything further, the two were interrupted by the quiet arrival of a very small destroyer with her nose buried in a very thick book. The destroyer placed a tray of chicken nuggets and milk on the table and pulled herself up into a chair, all without shifting her eyes from her reading.

    "Hey, Walker," Gale smiled and ruffled the destroyer's tawny hair. Maybe it was just her pregnancy talking, but she'd always found the little four-stacked to be far more pleasant than the rest.

    "Miss Gale," Walker turned the page. "Doc."

    "Walker," Crowning lifted his drink at her. "What're you reading?"

    "Destroyermen," said Walker. "It's about me. Well… kind of. Me if I stayed a destroyer instead of a dam-con hulk." She set her book down and smiled. "I was reading in my room, but…"

    "But?" Gale coaxed.

    "But it got loud." said Walker. "Bannie came in and yelled something about tubers. Then Borie got really mad but she only does thirty-five knots and…" Walker shrugged. "It's quieter here."

    "That seems reasonable," said Gale. "Was Borie at least wearing pants?"

    Walker thought for a moment. "Last I saw, yes."

    "May miracles never cease," said Crowning with a sly grin.

    Gale scowled, but couldn't bring herself to be too upset. Walker might be a four-stacker destroyer, but her time as a damage-control hulk had mellowed her out considerably. Of course, Vestal had snapped up the little destroyer for her budding medical wing practically before the summoning was over. "Hey, you wanted to come to the ob/gyn with me, right?"

    Walker nodded. "If it's not too much trouble."

    "Nah," Gale shrugged. "It'll be nice to have someone there."

    —|—|—​

    For battleship New Jersey, the completion of her trans-pacific trip home came as something of a mixed bag.

    On the one hand, getting to see the soggy evergreens of Washington State filled her with a comfortable sense of familiarity. Gone were the unnecessarily fucking Japanese trinkets and cutesy bullshit the goddamn islands were thoroughly infested with. Left behind was the bizarre obsession with turning each and every goddamn thing in the fucking universe into a schoolgirl wearing an unnecessarily fucking short miniskirt. All that had been left behind as Jersey entered the land of hot coffee and warm sweaters.

    But on the other hand, seeing the glowing face and coy smirk of battleship Washington—and the way her hands never quite left her midsection—filled her with an unreasonable fucking hatred for life in general and that particular fucking North Carolina in particular. Oh, Wash wasn't showing like Mutsu was, but Jersey could tell.

    "Why the fuck," Jersey cursed at nobody in particular. She'd almost forgotten that she hadn't gotten laid fucking once the entire goddamn time she'd been fuckable. "Is every goddamn boat I know getting knocked up except for fucking me!"

    "But—" Kongou's oppressively British accent was snapped off in an instant by an angry Iowa fueled by her immense libido.

    "Stuff it, Dessboat," grumbled Jersey. "Don't pretend like the fucking nanosecond this war's over you're not gonna have exclusive fucking ownership of Goto's dick for like ninety-goddamn-six hours until he's fucking begging you for mercy in fucking dutch."

    Kongou's mouth hung open for a moment. Then she closed it with a smile so bright it forced her brown eyes into a squint. "Correct, dess!"

    Jersey scowled. "She's fucking pregnant. Mutsu is fucking pregnant. Kongou will be pregnant without a fucking shred of doubt. Sister Sara was fucking summoned because someone wanted to rail her fucking turbo-electric ass that fucking badly. I hear fucking Alaska hooked herself a boyfriend, and that fucking cruiser couldn't seduce her way out of a fucking anime convention if her goddamn life depended on it. All of my friends are getting fucked but goddamn me!"

    "What about Shinano?" asked Naka.

    "Watch your fucking tongue," Jersey clapped her hands over Naka's ears. Or that was the intention, but she ended up just grabbing handfuls of the carrier's buns. "Shinano is young, and therefore unfuckable, like the destroyers."

    "Okay," said Naka. "But what about me?"

    "You're a traffic cone," said Jersey. "Next question."

    "The cruisers?" Naka glanced over at where Prinz Eugen, Lou, and Frisco were already linking up with Wash's taskforce.

    "Naka," Jersey shifted her hand to the slight cruiser's shoulder. "Poor… innocent, pure Naka."

    "Clearly you've never seen my fans," grumbled Naka, but Jersey wasn't paying attention.

    "If I know the first thing about lesbians—"

    "Which you don't."

    "—then those three are having lesbian threesomes every time we're not looking," explained Jersey. "Also fuck you, I'm the lesbian fucking queen."

    "Says the girl bitching about never getting laid." Naka glanced up at Jersey. Then without a sound, she winked and threw up a peace sign while throwing her hip to the wind in the most Japanese of ways.

    "Okay, fuck you," said Jersey. "But also, good to see you're back."

    Naka smiled. A genuine smile, not the fabricated idol shit she wore to build her fanbase an annoy the living shit out of Jersey. "Thanks."

    Jersey shrugged. "Gotta play nice," she stiffened her posture, subtly transforming from Jersey-the-battleship to Jersey-the-officer. "Wash, it's nice to—"

    "ONEESAMA!" A warship that could only be described as Kongou, but Asian-er and even less connected to reality, howled at the top of her surprisingly capacious lungs.

    "KIRISHIMA-CHAN!" Kongou howled back and took off at a sprint. Her stern sank into the water as her screws beat the choppy Pacific surf to foam.

    "I hate Japan," grumbled Jersey, and she decided to ignore the two insane battleships for now. "Wash."

    The serene, yet smugly pregnant, North Carolina smiled as she approached at a far more sedate pace. "Jersey, you've filled out."

    "Thanks," Jersey smiled and self-consciously weighed a handful of her newly-enlarged bosom. She still wasn't totally used to having a rack as objectively awesome as her ass. "You're… uh… fucking pregnant."

    "You noticed?" Wash said. If it was anyone else, Jersey would've assumed Wash was teasing her. But Wash was so fucking hard to read.

    Jersey nodded, "Who's the—"

    The sound of Kongou and Kirishima hugging each other cut her off. Given that they were both thirty-six thousand ton warships closing at a combined speed of almost sixty knots, it was a very loud and somewhat unpleasant sound.

    "Goddamn, they're loud." Jersey scowled. "Anyway, who's the father?"

    Wash smiled. "Gale."

    Jersey blinked. "That's the weirdest thing I've heard all month."

    Wash shrugged with a dissonant smile.

    "You understand I was in Japan like… a week ago, right?"

    Wash's smile vanished. "Oh."

    "Yeah."

    —|—|—
    ​
    Sarah Gale sat on the examination table with her head cradled in both hands. She couldn't believe she'd actually been excited for her checkup. Her hormones must be royally fucked up if she thought that, somehow, her visit to the OB/GYN would give her some shred of happiness or joy instead of suffering and frustration. She'd actually thought that something nice would happen to her! Something nice!

    It'd all been going so well. The doctor—a kindly man with hair the color of snow who'd traveled all the way from the Mayo Clinic who'd flown in specifically for her—had actually made getting her blood and urine collected for testing feel like a day a the spa. He'd even given Walker a lollipop and patiently answered all her questions with what sounded like genuine enthusiasm.

    And then the tests came back.

    "Um," walker tugged at Gale's sleeve. "Miss Gale?"

    "No, Walker." Gale glanced over at the kindly Mayo-clinic doctor. The man with three degrees to his name. The man who was curled up into a small ball in the corner of the room squinting a folder and mumbling something about boats on repeat. "This doesn't normally happen."

    "Oh," Walker nodded, and scribbled in her Dora-the-explorer notebook. "Okay."

    "Except," Gale added under her breath, "To me."
     
  • Threadmarks
    • theJMPer said:
    She wouldn't have been nearly as annoyed if Mutsu hadn't given her middle its own Instagram account.
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    *headdesk*
    theJMPer said:
    "How much have you been eating?" asked Crowning.

    "I…" Gale shook her head. "I don't know, a lot? You think they've got a supply problem?"

    Crowning nodded. "It makes sense, doesn't it? They blew everything on one massive blow, but now they're settling in for the long haul."
    Click to expand...
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    The Fleet of Fog called, they want their plot and motive back.
    theJMPer said:
    "Why the fuck," Jersey cursed at nobody in particular. She'd almost forgotten that she hadn't gotten laid fucking once the entire goddamn time she'd been fuckable. "Is every goddamn boat I know getting knocked up except for fucking me!"
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    Because Fuck You, That's Why.
    theJMPer said:
    "No, Walker." Gale glanced over at the kindly Mayo-clinic doctor. The man with three degrees to his name. The man who was curled up into a small ball in the corner of the room squinting a folder and mumbling something about boats on repeat. "This doesn't normally happen."
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    You're giving birth to a boat. You will have to nurse it with oil, feed it steel, and deal with never ever sleeping again.:V
     
    1. Marine quarters. Go there Jersey and I swear you'll be knocked up within the hour.
    2. Welp, more MSSB and our first natural-born. Wonder who it'll be. BB for sure.
     
    Always Late said:
    The Fleet of Fog called, they want their plot and motive back.
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    ...I don't think that's what happened? They specifically have the directive of driving human ships from the seas. Not wiping them out afterwards. In point of fact, firing on major inland targets, particularly population centers, is a big FoF no-no. So they did their job, and then started patrolling to make certain, rather than screwing up their logistics royally.

    Their plot is more about them deciding to mimic human minds, and the fallout from that decision, particularly what to do next. They're seeking a purpose, either one they make themselves, or to figure out what the intent behind their orders was, because they're now able to question, empathize with humans, and also, importantly, experience boredom. Mindless patrolling is a lot less appealing when you can feel boredom.
     
    theJMPer said:
    She wouldn't have been nearly as annoyed if Mutsu hadn't given her middle its own Instagram account.
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    What.
    theJMPer said:
    "Walker," Crowning lifted his drink at her. "What're you reading?"

    "Destroyermen," said Walker. "It's about me. Well… kind of. Me if I stayed a destroyer instead of a dam-con hulk." She set her book down and smiled. "I was reading in my room, but…"
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    We're getting real meta up in here, Hitomi...
    theJMPer said:
    "That seems reasonable," said Gale. "Was Borie at least wearing pants?"
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    Gale has long since learned she needs to make this a regular check.
    theJMPer said:
    Left behind was the bizarre obsession with turning each and every goddamn thing in the fucking universe into a schoolgirl wearing an unnecessarily fucking short miniskirt.
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    Botes, rifles, fighter jets, mountains, Japanese municipalities, you name it. Though I question the characterization of their outfits as 'unnecessarily fucking short miniskirt(s)'. I think they are juuuuuust fine. :)
    theJMPer said:
    "Stuff it, Dessboat," grumbled Jersey. "Don't pretend like the fucking nanosecond this war's over you're not gonna have exclusive fucking ownership of Goto's dick for like ninety-goddamn-six hours until he's fucking begging you for mercy in fucking dutch."

    Kongou's mouth hung open for a moment. Then she closed it with a smile so bright it forced her brown eyes into a squint. "Correct, dess!"
    Click to expand...
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    Oh, you know she's been thinking about it... :V

    Kongou: "But I do not speak Dutch. Guess that means I don't need to stop, then! Dess!" :D
    theJMPer said:
    "Okay," said Naka. "But what about me?"

    "You're a traffic cone," said Jersey. "Next question."
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    I... I have several?
    theJMPer said:
    "Naka," Jersey shifted her hand to the slight cruiser's shoulder. "Poor… innocent, pure Naka."

    "Clearly you've never seen my fans," grumbled Naka, but Jersey wasn't paying attention.
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    Innocent? She's been on the internet! She's so far past innocent it's not even in the rear-view mirror anymore. That having been said, the only way she's not noticed the cruiser trio is determinedly not looking.

    (Pringles needs cuddles)
    theJMPer said:
    "No, Walker." Gale glanced over at the kindly Mayo-clinic doctor. The man with three degrees to his name. The man who was curled up into a small ball in the corner of the room squinting a folder and mumbling something about boats on repeat. "This doesn't normally happen."

    "Oh," Walker nodded, and scribbled in her Dora-the-explorer notebook. "Okay."

    "Except," Gale added under her breath, "To me."
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    Triplets? Just the WTF of the doctor having to listen to the blatant sounds of riveting and welding coming from her belly? I hope this just means Gale has to eat more steel or something.
    theJMPer said:
    She's an officer, she can't fuck an NCO.
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    Easy solution! Just screw somebody not in the same chain of command! Say, like, a nearby Soldier! Not even the same Department, anymore, so you're all clear! Find some nice strapping Green Beret, tell him to strap in tight, and GREEN LIGHT JUMP JUMP JUMP! :V
     
    Nixeu said:
    ...I don't think that's what happened? They specifically have the directive of driving human ships from the seas. Not wiping them out afterwards. In point of fact, firing on major inland targets, particularly population centers, is a big FoF no-no. So they did their job, and then started patrolling to make certain, rather than screwing up their logistics royally.
    Click to expand...
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    Let me rephase my point somewhat:
    1. Global push by impossible navy out of nowhere against an entire world.
    2. Navies decimated due to ineffective weapons.
    3. Said push stops roughly at the shoreline.
    4. Humanity rebuilds and creates new weapons against the enemy based on said enemy's own operating principles.

    Shall I elaborate further?
    Nixeu said:
    Their plot is more about them deciding to mimic human minds, and the fallout from that decision, particularly what to do next. They're seeking a purpose, either one they make themselves, or to figure out what the intent behind their orders was, because they're now able to question, empathize with humans, and also, importantly, experience boredom. Mindless patrolling is a lot less appealing when you can feel boredom.
    Click to expand...
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    That's part of the narrative conflict. Slight difference.
     
    *Doctor holds stethoscope up to Gale's belly*
    welding, steel grinding, tiny swearing voices
    *Moves stethoscope to the left*
    heartbeat, stomach grumbling
    *Moves stethoscope back*
    hammering, diesels grumbling, more swearing
    "You are far beyond medical science"
     
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