Burning Baron
This position needs more entrenching.
- Location
- In here, not out there.
Parasite fighters like that passenger Zeppelin in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade?
Belated Battleships (KanColle) [REHOST]
- Thread starter theJMPer
- Start date
Skywalker_T-65
Writer with too many ideas.
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- Plural/They/He/Her
We Crimson Skies now
Technically, that should already be part of her rigging... Akron and Macon were designed from the start to carry a dozen biplane fighters that would launch and recover from a trapeze arrangement; they were billed as "flying aircraft carriers" in the press.
CompassJimbo
Where’s Your North?
- Location
- The former Rubber Capital of the World
Lots and lots of confused Goodyear engineers.
esseresse
R'lyth Power Make-up
- Location
- divorceville, state of depression
- Pronouns
- They/Her
Can you mount Squids on a Rigid AirOtterCatGirlShip?
Edit: Holy fuck brain what is wrong with you.
Last edited:
- Location
- Beyond the Unknowable Veil
Too much exposure to the Great Old Ones?
Rogue Gemini
Wanderer without a Twin
- Location
- Here
After having celebrated our Navy's 243rd birthday I realized that number matched a certain ship's hull number... the USS New Jersey.
EDIT: Hold on...243. Hm. A model ship of it was used for the celebration. Maybe a mistake was made?
EDIT 2: Okay. I do admit my mistake there, I must've missed something when I saw the model next to the cake and saw a different ship sitting on the cake, thinking it was just the same thing but smaller. Wow I feel stupid. Looking up the actual ships associated with the hull number...
USS Sands (DD-243/APD-13) a Clemson-class Destroyer from WWII and USS Bream (SS-243), an American Gato-class Submarine.
EDIT: Hold on...243. Hm. A model ship of it was used for the celebration. Maybe a mistake was made?
EDIT 2: Okay. I do admit my mistake there, I must've missed something when I saw the model next to the cake and saw a different ship sitting on the cake, thinking it was just the same thing but smaller. Wow I feel stupid. Looking up the actual ships associated with the hull number...
USS Sands (DD-243/APD-13) a Clemson-class Destroyer from WWII and USS Bream (SS-243), an American Gato-class Submarine.
Last edited:
- Location
- Somewhere between here and there
Some interesting scar he has there. Given the previous lines and what come after this one, I have an idea when he might've gotten it but not how.
Nice call back to an earlier scene with Solette and shipgirl fairies. Are curse words also written as 'Bork' or are they written as 'Bark'?
Is this self bullying I'm seeing here? I think it is. However...
...Even if you are good personal friends with your superior officer to a point where you can get away with some stuff that others wouldn't stand for, expect equally creative and interesting consequences for certain things as well.
That's a very cute mental image. Also, I am sure that this will change as time goes on as more American destroyers are summoned.
Well now this gives a strong hint as to when he got that scar. Also, I like this part because it reminds us that despite the number of shipgirls that have been summoned since Jersey, the Navy is still very much recovering from the initial attacks during the aptly named Blood Week.
Is this a reference/shout out to the movie Watchers?
Well this certainly is an interesting noddle incident. It also makes me remember certain things that Jersey has said about destroyers in past chapters.
That must've been interesting explaining that to the base logistics officer.
One must wonder how many incidents involving destroyers and super glue that Corgi has had to deal with to warrant this.
Pretty nice way to end this omake. Also I can't help but to giggle from imagining the creative ways in which a PT Corgi can wake a person up.
Last edited:
Admiral_Corgi
The Admiral of the PT Boats
- Location
- The Strange land of Florida
I'm glad you noticed that call back. And yes when Corgis have swear words in their reports, its written as 'Bark' instead of the usual Bork. Which has led to some rather.... interesting comments from the Lieutenant to few of the dogs in the past...
Lieutenant Corgi: "I can't transcribe this in my report! Its nothing but swear words! ... No, I don't care that if you play em though a bleeper that it spells out a proper report in Morse code, I still can't send this up to my superior, he'll blow a gasket. Besides Coding in swear word is a terrible way to code a message. Go rewrite this!"
<.<
>.>
Someone's gotta do some more bullying. Its been a bit since the last Iron Bullying and Sky's self bully. May as well volunteer myself
Oh certainly. and Take my word for it, you'll see some of the creative and interesting consequences get explored in future chapters of this omake line~
Yes and yes, Though I will say that scar shown in the beginning is most certain not the only one he has from that time. Without giving totally away, I will say there's a good reason why Lieutenant Corgi wears a shirt or even his NWU jacket even in situations were its the normal for one to forego such things, like visiting the beach while on Leave. You'll see soon enough~
Guilty as Naka's dress is Orange.
I wasn't anyone would get that reference.
Considering that roughly 90% of Corgi's experience with ship girls has been with the Japanese Destroyers in the Gulf Theater. Noodle incidents were bound to happen. And there's more than a few that'll be mentioned in later updates.
Oh trust me, you'll get to see some of them eventually~
Last edited:
Omake: Wolfbait's daily life
CompassJimbo
Where’s Your North?
- Location
- The former Rubber Capital of the World
Part Three of the proper show.
The smell of gasoline and fresh food filled the chilly winter air as Karen Hunter stepped off the crowded bus. The car had been low on gas, and she wasn't wasting it for only a handful of things, even if the route to Market District had become more convoluted. The store was brand-new, a sign of defiance against a sluggish economy. The worst of the Abyssal Recession had begun to pass, but that didn't mean things were all of a sudden pleasant. The roads were on the emptier side, which was fine by her. Traffic in this part of town was usually hellish, especially this time of year.
Across State Road, she could hear some doomsday preacher rambling on about how the Abyssals were the 'Beast From the Sea' predicted by the Book of Revelation. The man didn't really care that said beast had been punched in the face repeatedly by large shells, rather than making the world kneel before it.
Letting out a small sigh, she pressed on and crossed the street, ignoring the doomsayers. She had dealt with far too many of them where she had came from, years ago. Each dealt with the world they now were a part of in their own way. Cathy was a shining example of that.
A buzz came from her phone, a text from one of Cathy's old teachers. Strange that she was checking in. Her daughter had graduated several months ago, and had no interest in college.
'Is Cathy doing alright?'
Another sigh, as Karen paused and typed back.
'She's been even more stressed out recently. My son is dating one of the ship girls, and she thinks that Jimmy's new girlfriend is desperate.'
'Japanese?'
Karen couldn't help but let out a small laugh. 'Of course.'
'I still remember him mentioning how Japanese ships had all sorts of problems.'
Oh, the joys of her kids having the same teachers. 'Sounds like him.'
'Tell Cathy I said hi, and that we're praying for her.'
'Alright. Take care.'
'You too'
Putting her phone back in her pocket, she pressed on. If there was one place that had a good curry mix, this had to be it. She was not going to let Ashigara go without something homemade. There were a few cars in the lot, mostly people who had the gas to spare, or who had to haul a bunch of groceries home. Most took the bus, and Metro was working to expand its services, even though a route ran not too far from home. A shame it was still a bit of a walk from her house to the stop.
The warmth of the store's heating greeted her a brief walk later, as the countless and unique smells of fresh-cooked and yet-to-be-cooked food surrounded her. Hopefully this wouldn't take long. However, her phone buzzing again got her attention. Letting out a sigh, Karen made her way to the second floor, grabbed a seat, and checked what the fuss was all about.
It was a follow request on Skype, from an admittedly handsome-looking woman named Nachi. The purple uniform meant that she was likely Ashigara's sister, the only one she hadn't talked to yet.
Well, may as well get this over with. It was definitely interesting to peer into the world of the so-called 'Shipgirls', who enamored everyone except Cathy, who thought they were but cosplayers. She had heard stories about Kongou, and seen New Jersey tear into those battleships outside of Seattle while blaring rock and roll over her loudspeakers. They were a hell of a sight, on and off the battlefield. And she was one of the lucky few outside of the Navy to have an actual connection to them.
That, and she had also been told to expect something from the woman in question.
Hitting the 'accept' button, Karen was soon greeted with a DM.
'My salutations, Mrs. Hunter. I am Nachi, of the Myōkō-class, and I hear that your son is in a relationship with my dearest younger sister.'
If that wasn't a strong way to say hello, Karen wasn't sure what the hell was.
'That he is,' she typed back.
Karen was starting to get a feel for what she was going to be dealing with down the road with the other three. Ashigara came off as determined, ironically not unlike Cathy. Myoukou was cool-headed, and Haguro needed a hug. Nachi, however, was giving off the impression of being either highly-protective, or being all bark, and no bite.
'I thank you for raising such a considerate gentleman. Ashigara has been seeking a man who could love her, and finally seems to have found one who can deal with her rather strong-willed nature.'
'He's had to deal with us.'
'I see.'
Karen supposed it was inevitable that her son would end up with someone who was strong-willed. Of course, Ashigara was more open about it, while Karen and Cathy simply quietly pushed one anothers' buttons.
'So how's New Orleans? Probably warmer than it is here.'
'I have not had much chance to explore the city. I do enjoy the bourbon, though.'
A sigh escaped her, as she remembered that she had stuff to pick up. 'I have to go right now, but we can talk later.'
'I bid thee farewell for now.'
Pocketing her phone, Karen made her way downstairs, before grabbing a shopping cart. First stop, the deli.
[=]
Some time later, Karen had managed to find what she needed, and hoped would be enough to make the curry Ashigara liked. Thankfully none of what she bought needed refrigerated, or at least, not too quickly.
The doors opened, and the chill of the Ohio winter was all too happy to bring her into its embrace, even beneath her coat. Snow had begun to fall, and it would likely get worse as the afternoon went on. Quickly making her way to the bus stop, Karen was quietly thankful that she only had to wait a few minutes for the bus to arrive. All that was left was to get to Chapel Hill and board the other bus home.
Quickly swiping her pass, Karen made her way towards the back, where there were a few seats empty. She didn't mind the bus, and fewer people were rude than she feared, but it didn't make things any less claustrophobic. A myriad of sounds played, from conversations to bad rap music. As the bus passed by the Riverfront, Karen couldn't help but notice that the Christmas lights seemed duller, and the Cuyahoga more icy. She shuddered slightly, remembering the photos of the ice floes rolling in towards Hawaii that had gone viral.
Eventually the bus made it to Chapel Hill, only for the one that was supposed to take her home not to be present. Dammit.
There were shelters, but none heated, and the building in front of her was closed off. It was going to get dark soon, and she would rather not have to be out this way after sundown, especially with this cold snap. Taking out her phone, she noticed a rather curious offer from Nachi.
"I think I'm going to need to call off work," she quietly said to herself.
Letting out a contented sigh, Nachi set her phone down for the moment, trying to think of what else to say. Civilians weren't usually allowed onto active military bases, but that didn't mean they couldn't stay nearby. Indeed, Karen could be incorporated into the Meet-and-Greet the Admiral had planned, after he had caught wind of what was going on with Cathy, thanks to a minor social media debacle between the young woman and Myoukou. He laughed at the absurdity of the situation, but realized it would be a good idea to have herself and the others meet the civilian populace directly. While they were ships, that didn't mean they sat at dock until it came time to sortie, not in this form.
The only thing they really needed was a venue, though suitable ones weren't exactly hard to find. It would also make up for the statement Kaga had made, of not hesitating to kill herself should the Americans request it. She had no doubt visited the site of Arizona, even though the ship in question had long returned, and was known to be friends with a few of her Japanese counterparts, such as Hiei, Mutsu, and Shimakaze.
Of course, Nachi, as well as Atago and the four Kagerō sisters of DesDiv 17, weren't exactly famous. Everyone knew who New Jersey, Kongou, Yuudachi, and the destroyers of Taffy-3 were, but not her group. Even her own sister, Ashigara, was an unknown outside of Japan, where her determined quest for a spouse went on until recently, when she met an American submariner, setting all of this in motion.
"Pan-paka-pan~!" Came the sunny voice of Atago. "Is something up, Nachi?"
"I was having a conversation with someone," Nachi replied, crossing her arms. "This business doesn't concern you at the moment."
"Is it over Ashigara~?" The blonde inquired, before letting out a giggle.
"How—"
"Information spreads fast, you know~!" She cut her off. How rude. "Ashigara has a boyfriend, just like 'Laska!"
A small sigh escaped Nachi. Alaska was as happy as she could be with Young by her side, and there was also Saratoga and Daniel Stewart. Speaking of, she still needed to download and read Destiny.
"Indeed she does," Nachi replied. "An American submariner."
"I didn't quite learn all of the details, so can I ask if he lives around here?" Atago beamed.
Nachi shook her head, before facing her counterpart. "No, though it would be convenient," she answered. "He and his family live near…" she paused, before looking at her phone, pulling up the profile of Hunter's mother. "A town called Akron."
"Ooh, the city Akron was named for!" Atago said. "I hear she's been hoping to go there so she could get a refit!"
"We're on a base meant to support us. I doubt they have any facilities meant to handle kanmusu," Nachi furrowed her brow.
"Ships can be handled here, but not airships!" The blonde stated. "I hear there's hangers that should be able to handle Akron up that way and give her a refit!"
Another sigh escaped Nachi, who decided to take Atago's word for it. "I presume the K-Blimps will handle ASW in the meantime?"
"Of course~!" Atago giggled. "Though I still don't like how mean they get…"
Nachi let a small smirk grow on her face. Those 'blimpcats' were indeed cruel creatures, fussy and ready to sink their claws into whatever they could find. They also didn't get along with the contingent of PT Corgis stationed here, with the barking and hissing having roused Nachi from her sleep more than once.
"Anyway, where was I?" Asked Atago, a look of confusion on her face.
"I believe you were inquiring as to my sister's new significant other."
"Oh! Right!" Atago shouted, before sitting herself on the desk chair. "What do you think of him~?" She inquired, leaning in, hands on her chin.
A deep breath escaped Nachi. "I've yet to talk to him personally, but as long as he doesn't break my sister's heart or try to do her harm, all should be fine."
"I think they're gonna get married~!" Atago giggled. "And have a whole bunch of kids, too~!"
Nachi took a moment to think upon that. Nieces and nephews, running around some American suburb raising all sorts of hell. Of course, there was no telling if they would be ordinary children, or be carrying 8" rifles and oxygen torpedoes like their mother, or worse. Mutsu would be giving birth fairly soon, but until her twins arrived, the nature of any children born to a kanmusu was very much open.
"I honestly wouldn't mind being an aunt," Nachi replied. "I had always figured that if any of my sisters were to bear children, it would either be Ashigara or Haguro."
"And what about you?"
Until the revelation that Mutsu had become pregnant, Nachi never gave much thought towards children. A spouse, perhaps, but unlike Ashigara, she could wait. But children of her own, with her eyes, or her hair, or her personality…
"Mama? Can you play with me?"
"Of course, sweetie! You're growing up to be so strong, like I am!"
"I wanna be a ship like you when I grow up! I wanna play ship!"
"Then let's get into formation! Follow m—"
"—i? Nachi?" Snapping out of her thoughts, Nachi saw Atago waving her hand in front of her face. "Is everything alright?"
Quickly composing herself, Nachi brushed the other cruiser off. "I'm fine, Atago."
"Really? Didn't seem like it~."
Nachi let out a sigh before opening the drawer by her bed. A bottle of whiskey called 'Fireball,' which had a nice, cinnamon-y aftertaste. "Care for one?"
"I'm on the night patrol with Hamakaze and Urakaze. I shouldn't," Atago quietly objected.
"Your loss," Nachi replied, before filling a shot glass. Yeah, that wasn't bad stuff.
"Also, 'Laska and Sara should be getting back tomorrow," Atago informed her.
Nachi let out a small sigh. She wouldn't envy the poor bastards who had to clean up the planes they would be travelling on. "Good," she said flatly. They still needed their heavier ships should something like Atomic Battlecruiser Princess show up, though, and the only other unit with capital ships was a Royal Navy squadron in the British Virgin Isles. There had also been some rumblings from the few merchantmen who made port here, of something brewing in the Atlantic. "Is there anything else I should be informed of?"
Atago pursed her lips, placing a finger on them. "The Admiral wants to try a summoning attempt in a few days. He figures we could use an extra destroyer or two."
A low hum left Nachi. "I concur in that regard, though a light or escort carrier would be welcome, too."
"I'll put your recommendation in."
Catherine Hunter awoke from her nap, pretty much the only restful sleep she could get nowadays. Mom was supposed to get back soon, and with her, the food that was to be sent all the way to Japan, for Jimmy's 'girlfriend'. She was still in shock over how he fell for one of those women, and someone she suspected would ditch him the moment she got bored.
That wasn't to say he wouldn't be a loving husband. He was a little absent-minded at times, but he usually knew how to do the right thing. But the woman he ended up with, the one who somehow got him to fucking dance, when he refused to do so because he 'didn't want to make an ass out of himself'…
Her train of thought was stopped by the sound of her phone's ringtone, the display reading 'Mountain Mama.'
Country roooooaaaaaaddds, take me hooooommmmme, to the plaaaaaccceeee I beloooonnnnnggg!
"Hello?"
"Hey, Cathy," Mom answered. "I just got off the bus. Can you unlock the front door and turn on the porch light?"
"Yeah, I can do that," Cathy replied. "Be seeing you in a couple minutes," she yawned.
"Alright. And can you take the trash can out to the curb while you're up?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Thank you, Cathy. Love you."
"Yeah. Love you, too, mom."
The phone beeped, before Cathy ended the call on her end. Forcing herself out of bed, she threw her coat on and flipped the switch by the front door, before stepping outside and dragging the trash can to the edge of the driveway. Snow was falling steadily, as the sun went down and darkness fell.
Her breath hung in the air, highlighted only by the lights from the house. Looking to her right, she could see her mother making her way up the street, flashlight shining brightly. Things seemed a little calmer now, in spite of what happened.
"You didn't have to wait for me, you know," her mother ribbed, shutting off her flashlight.
Cathy shrugged, before starting to make her way back into the house.
"Is something wrong?" Her mother asked.
"Nothing," Cathy replied. "Just tired."
The two stepped inside, the relative warmth of the house embracing them. The sound of boots kicking off snow echoed through the living room, before Cathy's mother picked up the remote and turned on the TV.
"—expecting about eight to ten inches in the snow belt tonight, and about six to eight in northern Medina, Summit, and Portage Counties. The National Weather Service has said this likely was triggered by the recent Invasion of Hawaii disrupting weather patterns…"
What a bunch of bullshit.
"Glad I got those groceries when I did," her mother remarked. "God, is it gonna be a mess…"
Her mother stepped into the kitchen, the crinkling of the reusable bags sounding as the rice, pork, and curry mix were removed and put away.
Cathy sat herself on the couch, grabbing the remote and looking through the TV guide. Ooh, Nick was airing an iCarly marathon.
"Nice try," her mother smirked as she swiped the remote. Dammit…
The channel was changed to USA, playing the endless reruns of NCIS, as usual.
Her mother sat herself down on the recliner, grabbing her Kindle from the side pocket. Like many she knew, her mother was entranced by that book series, Changing Destiny. Cathy somehow forced herself to finish the first book, but most of it went over her head. Something about a ship having boobs, time travel, a plot by time travellers to kill Hitler (wasn't that a Doctor Who episode?), and Pearl Harbor starting a week before it happened in reality.
In short, it was probably going to be adapted by Michael Bay, who would consider such a thing to be beyond his wildest dreams of America, Boobs, and Explosions.
But there was something in the air, a certain calm before the storm. She could hear the wind gusting outside, alongside the windchimes singing away. It wasn't the weather, though. Something was on her mother's mind, her eyebrows furrowed as she swiped on the screen. Her eyes widened, no doubt caught by a plot twist.
"Something going on, mom?" Cathy asked.
"I'm reading the book, and…" she took a deep breath. "I'm not sure how to explain this to you. You never cared too much for this stuff, but there were three battleships lost at Pearl Harbor—"
"Not the book," Cathy cut her off impatiently. "Is there something else going on?"
Her mom's eyes widened, as she remembered something. "Oh, thank you for reminding me!" Her mother exclaimed. "I got a Skype message from Nachi, one of Ashigara's sisters, and she wants us to come down to New Orleans and meet her."
Cathy felt her stomach drop. They may as well meet her at an anime convention. "I'm not going," she stated bluntly.
"Cathy, you're too young—"
"I'm eighteen, mom!" She pouted. "You let Jimmy go out and get shot at, and I'm treated like I'm five!"
"He had some time to mature a little," her mom countered.
"He was in it to get laid!" She yelled. "And now we're being dragged to New Orleans—"
"We aren't being dragged, Cathy, and believe it or not, but your brother very much loves that woman, and he's probably going to marry her. We need to know who we're going to be dealing with once he does," she stated firmly, rising from her seat. "I don't know what has gotten into your head, but—"
"Gee, maybe it's because Jimmy's going to die!?" Cathy stated, rising as well. "The Navy vanished, and he's going to vanish, too!" She shouted, tears welling in her eyes.
"Cathy…"
"He's a fuckin' idiot!" She wailed. "We needed him, not this country, and he decided to fuck off and a-abandon us anyway!" She sank to her knees, trying to wipe away at the tears in her eyes. "W-We had this conversation b-before, so I dunno why you act so surprised…"
The next thing she felt was her mother's embrace. "I'm not, Cathy," she said. "We'll get through this."
Not with the faint scent of death in the air.
To see Jintsuu-mama with such a sad face didn't make Jane Richardson happy. Was it over Sendai?
"Oh, Jane," she greeted. "I almost didn't notice you. I'm terribly sorry," she bowed. "Do you need something?"
"Are you sad, Jintsuu-mama?" Jane asked. "You look that way."
Her frown turned into a small smile, as a small laugh left her. "I'm quite alright, just a little concerned is all," she replied. "I was told by Myoukou that Ashigara's new boyfriend has a sister who isn't taking his deployment well."
"Really?" Jane asked. She knew that many sailors had families back home, who wanted their spouses, children, parents, and siblings to be safe. She felt much the same way when Jintsuu and the others sortied, hoping they could return home safely.
"Yes. She lives well inland, and apparently doesn't understand why her brother chooses to fight."
"Why?" Jane asked, confused and surprised. "The Abyssals are evil, and they want to kill everyone."
"I'm not sure," she said. "Perhaps it's because she doesn't live near the sea, and hasn't been subjected to shelling or bombing raids. But it troubles me because even during the last war, when our countries were enemies, our peoples were still proud to send their sons to fight. With everything at stake, she should be proud that he's willing to lay down his life if it keeps her safe."
Jane looked down. She remembered her father, before the war, sometimes talking to someone about 'war fatigue,' or how fewer people wanted to serve their country. "Maybe I can send her something to cheer her up?" She asked.
"Like what, may I ask?"
"Chibis!" Jane suggested. "I can summon some chibis and send them her way!"
Jintsuu smiled, laughing. "I'm not sure if Chibis will truly fix it, but they may help."
"And maybe I can have her talk to you, too!"
"I think she wouldn't want to take a phone or Skype call from someone as young as you, even if you're on your way to being an Admiral," Jintsuu quietly replied.
"But I am the Admiral!" She playfully pouted.
"Not yet," Jintsuu smirked, before patting her head. Jane couldn't help but laugh. She had her own fleet, but they were small, not big. One day she would be the Admiral, but until then, she just had to make do with her growing armada. "But still, maybe the chibis aren't a bad idea. Do you have an address?"
From: Jane Richardson, US Fleet Activities Sasebo, Sasebo, Japan
To: Catherine Hunter, PO Box 21, Munroe Falls, Ohio, United States, 44262
I heard you were sad and missed your brother, so I sent you some friends to keep you company! Take good care of them, please!
With love,
Jane Richardson
RDM John Richardson, US Navy
JS Mutsu
JS Jintsū
JS Hiei
JS Yamato
JS Shimakaze
USS Arizona (BB-39)
On the Home Front (Part 3)
Bills trying to expand public transit have been pushed, especially by the Democrats in the wake of fuel rationing, but there have been numerous debates between passing them, or more emergency naval construction bills. Amtrak, meanwhile, is all too eager to take advantage of the airline industry being kicked between the legs, but aren't in the position to do so, having their feet stepped on by freight carriers and few people being in the mood to travel to traditional tourist locales, like Los Angeles or Miami.
Meanwhile, many religious groups are divided on the Abyssal War and shipgirls. Some, naturally, consider it to be a sign of the End Times. Others see the shipgirls as Angels sent to cleanse the seas from those who dared escape Hell. Some Muslims consider the shipgirls to be a form of djinn, though an immodestly-dressed one. Still others are completely dumbstruck, never considering ships to be alive in the first place, regardless of whether they've held any particular faith or not.
War fatigue from over a decade spent trying to pacify the Middle East has also taken its toll on the American populace. The Abyssals struck at a bad time, with many still having bitter recollections of the events in Iraq and Afghanistan. Coupled with the fact that this is largely a naval war, recruitment hasn't been the best, which is bad considering the Invasion of Hawaii has spooked America's military command. If the Abyssals can try and take Hawaii, they can make an attempt against Los Angeles or New York, and that fear, of civilians jam-packed onto the interstates like cattle lined up for slaughter, among countless other potential horrors, casts a shadow over both the Pentagon and the White House.
[=]
"Route Ten, Howard, Portage Trail."The smell of gasoline and fresh food filled the chilly winter air as Karen Hunter stepped off the crowded bus. The car had been low on gas, and she wasn't wasting it for only a handful of things, even if the route to Market District had become more convoluted. The store was brand-new, a sign of defiance against a sluggish economy. The worst of the Abyssal Recession had begun to pass, but that didn't mean things were all of a sudden pleasant. The roads were on the emptier side, which was fine by her. Traffic in this part of town was usually hellish, especially this time of year.
Across State Road, she could hear some doomsday preacher rambling on about how the Abyssals were the 'Beast From the Sea' predicted by the Book of Revelation. The man didn't really care that said beast had been punched in the face repeatedly by large shells, rather than making the world kneel before it.
Letting out a small sigh, she pressed on and crossed the street, ignoring the doomsayers. She had dealt with far too many of them where she had came from, years ago. Each dealt with the world they now were a part of in their own way. Cathy was a shining example of that.
A buzz came from her phone, a text from one of Cathy's old teachers. Strange that she was checking in. Her daughter had graduated several months ago, and had no interest in college.
'Is Cathy doing alright?'
Another sigh, as Karen paused and typed back.
'She's been even more stressed out recently. My son is dating one of the ship girls, and she thinks that Jimmy's new girlfriend is desperate.'
'Japanese?'
Karen couldn't help but let out a small laugh. 'Of course.'
'I still remember him mentioning how Japanese ships had all sorts of problems.'
Oh, the joys of her kids having the same teachers. 'Sounds like him.'
'Tell Cathy I said hi, and that we're praying for her.'
'Alright. Take care.'
'You too
'Putting her phone back in her pocket, she pressed on. If there was one place that had a good curry mix, this had to be it. She was not going to let Ashigara go without something homemade. There were a few cars in the lot, mostly people who had the gas to spare, or who had to haul a bunch of groceries home. Most took the bus, and Metro was working to expand its services, even though a route ran not too far from home. A shame it was still a bit of a walk from her house to the stop.
The warmth of the store's heating greeted her a brief walk later, as the countless and unique smells of fresh-cooked and yet-to-be-cooked food surrounded her. Hopefully this wouldn't take long. However, her phone buzzing again got her attention. Letting out a sigh, Karen made her way to the second floor, grabbed a seat, and checked what the fuss was all about.
It was a follow request on Skype, from an admittedly handsome-looking woman named Nachi. The purple uniform meant that she was likely Ashigara's sister, the only one she hadn't talked to yet.
Well, may as well get this over with. It was definitely interesting to peer into the world of the so-called 'Shipgirls', who enamored everyone except Cathy, who thought they were but cosplayers. She had heard stories about Kongou, and seen New Jersey tear into those battleships outside of Seattle while blaring rock and roll over her loudspeakers. They were a hell of a sight, on and off the battlefield. And she was one of the lucky few outside of the Navy to have an actual connection to them.
That, and she had also been told to expect something from the woman in question.
Hitting the 'accept' button, Karen was soon greeted with a DM.
'My salutations, Mrs. Hunter. I am Nachi, of the Myōkō-class, and I hear that your son is in a relationship with my dearest younger sister.'
If that wasn't a strong way to say hello, Karen wasn't sure what the hell was.
'That he is,' she typed back.
Karen was starting to get a feel for what she was going to be dealing with down the road with the other three. Ashigara came off as determined, ironically not unlike Cathy. Myoukou was cool-headed, and Haguro needed a hug. Nachi, however, was giving off the impression of being either highly-protective, or being all bark, and no bite.
'I thank you for raising such a considerate gentleman. Ashigara has been seeking a man who could love her, and finally seems to have found one who can deal with her rather strong-willed nature.'
'He's had to deal with us.'
'I see.'
Karen supposed it was inevitable that her son would end up with someone who was strong-willed. Of course, Ashigara was more open about it, while Karen and Cathy simply quietly pushed one anothers' buttons.
'So how's New Orleans? Probably warmer than it is here.'
'I have not had much chance to explore the city. I do enjoy the bourbon, though.'
A sigh escaped her, as she remembered that she had stuff to pick up. 'I have to go right now, but we can talk later.'
'I bid thee farewell for now.'
Pocketing her phone, Karen made her way downstairs, before grabbing a shopping cart. First stop, the deli.
[=]
Some time later, Karen had managed to find what she needed, and hoped would be enough to make the curry Ashigara liked. Thankfully none of what she bought needed refrigerated, or at least, not too quickly.
The doors opened, and the chill of the Ohio winter was all too happy to bring her into its embrace, even beneath her coat. Snow had begun to fall, and it would likely get worse as the afternoon went on. Quickly making her way to the bus stop, Karen was quietly thankful that she only had to wait a few minutes for the bus to arrive. All that was left was to get to Chapel Hill and board the other bus home.
Quickly swiping her pass, Karen made her way towards the back, where there were a few seats empty. She didn't mind the bus, and fewer people were rude than she feared, but it didn't make things any less claustrophobic. A myriad of sounds played, from conversations to bad rap music. As the bus passed by the Riverfront, Karen couldn't help but notice that the Christmas lights seemed duller, and the Cuyahoga more icy. She shuddered slightly, remembering the photos of the ice floes rolling in towards Hawaii that had gone viral.
Eventually the bus made it to Chapel Hill, only for the one that was supposed to take her home not to be present. Dammit.
There were shelters, but none heated, and the building in front of her was closed off. It was going to get dark soon, and she would rather not have to be out this way after sundown, especially with this cold snap. Taking out her phone, she noticed a rather curious offer from Nachi.
"I think I'm going to need to call off work," she quietly said to herself.
[=]
Letting out a contented sigh, Nachi set her phone down for the moment, trying to think of what else to say. Civilians weren't usually allowed onto active military bases, but that didn't mean they couldn't stay nearby. Indeed, Karen could be incorporated into the Meet-and-Greet the Admiral had planned, after he had caught wind of what was going on with Cathy, thanks to a minor social media debacle between the young woman and Myoukou. He laughed at the absurdity of the situation, but realized it would be a good idea to have herself and the others meet the civilian populace directly. While they were ships, that didn't mean they sat at dock until it came time to sortie, not in this form.
The only thing they really needed was a venue, though suitable ones weren't exactly hard to find. It would also make up for the statement Kaga had made, of not hesitating to kill herself should the Americans request it. She had no doubt visited the site of Arizona, even though the ship in question had long returned, and was known to be friends with a few of her Japanese counterparts, such as Hiei, Mutsu, and Shimakaze.
Of course, Nachi, as well as Atago and the four Kagerō sisters of DesDiv 17, weren't exactly famous. Everyone knew who New Jersey, Kongou, Yuudachi, and the destroyers of Taffy-3 were, but not her group. Even her own sister, Ashigara, was an unknown outside of Japan, where her determined quest for a spouse went on until recently, when she met an American submariner, setting all of this in motion.
"Pan-paka-pan~!" Came the sunny voice of Atago. "Is something up, Nachi?"
"I was having a conversation with someone," Nachi replied, crossing her arms. "This business doesn't concern you at the moment."
"Is it over Ashigara~?" The blonde inquired, before letting out a giggle.
"How—"
"Information spreads fast, you know~!" She cut her off. How rude. "Ashigara has a boyfriend, just like 'Laska!"
A small sigh escaped Nachi. Alaska was as happy as she could be with Young by her side, and there was also Saratoga and Daniel Stewart. Speaking of, she still needed to download and read Destiny.
"Indeed she does," Nachi replied. "An American submariner."
"I didn't quite learn all of the details, so can I ask if he lives around here?" Atago beamed.
Nachi shook her head, before facing her counterpart. "No, though it would be convenient," she answered. "He and his family live near…" she paused, before looking at her phone, pulling up the profile of Hunter's mother. "A town called Akron."
"Ooh, the city Akron was named for!" Atago said. "I hear she's been hoping to go there so she could get a refit!"
"We're on a base meant to support us. I doubt they have any facilities meant to handle kanmusu," Nachi furrowed her brow.
"Ships can be handled here, but not airships!" The blonde stated. "I hear there's hangers that should be able to handle Akron up that way and give her a refit!"
Another sigh escaped Nachi, who decided to take Atago's word for it. "I presume the K-Blimps will handle ASW in the meantime?"
"Of course~!" Atago giggled. "Though I still don't like how mean they get…"
Nachi let a small smirk grow on her face. Those 'blimpcats' were indeed cruel creatures, fussy and ready to sink their claws into whatever they could find. They also didn't get along with the contingent of PT Corgis stationed here, with the barking and hissing having roused Nachi from her sleep more than once.
"Anyway, where was I?" Asked Atago, a look of confusion on her face.
"I believe you were inquiring as to my sister's new significant other."
"Oh! Right!" Atago shouted, before sitting herself on the desk chair. "What do you think of him~?" She inquired, leaning in, hands on her chin.
A deep breath escaped Nachi. "I've yet to talk to him personally, but as long as he doesn't break my sister's heart or try to do her harm, all should be fine."
"I think they're gonna get married~!" Atago giggled. "And have a whole bunch of kids, too~!"
Nachi took a moment to think upon that. Nieces and nephews, running around some American suburb raising all sorts of hell. Of course, there was no telling if they would be ordinary children, or be carrying 8" rifles and oxygen torpedoes like their mother, or worse. Mutsu would be giving birth fairly soon, but until her twins arrived, the nature of any children born to a kanmusu was very much open.
"I honestly wouldn't mind being an aunt," Nachi replied. "I had always figured that if any of my sisters were to bear children, it would either be Ashigara or Haguro."
"And what about you?"
Until the revelation that Mutsu had become pregnant, Nachi never gave much thought towards children. A spouse, perhaps, but unlike Ashigara, she could wait. But children of her own, with her eyes, or her hair, or her personality…
"Mama? Can you play with me?"
"Of course, sweetie! You're growing up to be so strong, like I am!"
"I wanna be a ship like you when I grow up! I wanna play ship!"
"Then let's get into formation! Follow m—"
"—i? Nachi?" Snapping out of her thoughts, Nachi saw Atago waving her hand in front of her face. "Is everything alright?"
Quickly composing herself, Nachi brushed the other cruiser off. "I'm fine, Atago."
"Really? Didn't seem like it~."
Nachi let out a sigh before opening the drawer by her bed. A bottle of whiskey called 'Fireball,' which had a nice, cinnamon-y aftertaste. "Care for one?"
"I'm on the night patrol with Hamakaze and Urakaze. I shouldn't," Atago quietly objected.
"Your loss," Nachi replied, before filling a shot glass. Yeah, that wasn't bad stuff.
"Also, 'Laska and Sara should be getting back tomorrow," Atago informed her.
Nachi let out a small sigh. She wouldn't envy the poor bastards who had to clean up the planes they would be travelling on. "Good," she said flatly. They still needed their heavier ships should something like Atomic Battlecruiser Princess show up, though, and the only other unit with capital ships was a Royal Navy squadron in the British Virgin Isles. There had also been some rumblings from the few merchantmen who made port here, of something brewing in the Atlantic. "Is there anything else I should be informed of?"
Atago pursed her lips, placing a finger on them. "The Admiral wants to try a summoning attempt in a few days. He figures we could use an extra destroyer or two."
A low hum left Nachi. "I concur in that regard, though a light or escort carrier would be welcome, too."
"I'll put your recommendation in."
[=]
Catherine Hunter awoke from her nap, pretty much the only restful sleep she could get nowadays. Mom was supposed to get back soon, and with her, the food that was to be sent all the way to Japan, for Jimmy's 'girlfriend'. She was still in shock over how he fell for one of those women, and someone she suspected would ditch him the moment she got bored.
That wasn't to say he wouldn't be a loving husband. He was a little absent-minded at times, but he usually knew how to do the right thing. But the woman he ended up with, the one who somehow got him to fucking dance, when he refused to do so because he 'didn't want to make an ass out of himself'…
Her train of thought was stopped by the sound of her phone's ringtone, the display reading 'Mountain Mama.'
Country roooooaaaaaaddds, take me hooooommmmme, to the plaaaaaccceeee I beloooonnnnnggg!
"Hello?"
"Hey, Cathy," Mom answered. "I just got off the bus. Can you unlock the front door and turn on the porch light?"
"Yeah, I can do that," Cathy replied. "Be seeing you in a couple minutes," she yawned.
"Alright. And can you take the trash can out to the curb while you're up?"
"Mm-hmm."
"Thank you, Cathy. Love you."
"Yeah. Love you, too, mom."
The phone beeped, before Cathy ended the call on her end. Forcing herself out of bed, she threw her coat on and flipped the switch by the front door, before stepping outside and dragging the trash can to the edge of the driveway. Snow was falling steadily, as the sun went down and darkness fell.
Her breath hung in the air, highlighted only by the lights from the house. Looking to her right, she could see her mother making her way up the street, flashlight shining brightly. Things seemed a little calmer now, in spite of what happened.
"You didn't have to wait for me, you know," her mother ribbed, shutting off her flashlight.
Cathy shrugged, before starting to make her way back into the house.
"Is something wrong?" Her mother asked.
"Nothing," Cathy replied. "Just tired."
The two stepped inside, the relative warmth of the house embracing them. The sound of boots kicking off snow echoed through the living room, before Cathy's mother picked up the remote and turned on the TV.
"—expecting about eight to ten inches in the snow belt tonight, and about six to eight in northern Medina, Summit, and Portage Counties. The National Weather Service has said this likely was triggered by the recent Invasion of Hawaii disrupting weather patterns…"
What a bunch of bullshit.
"Glad I got those groceries when I did," her mother remarked. "God, is it gonna be a mess…"
Her mother stepped into the kitchen, the crinkling of the reusable bags sounding as the rice, pork, and curry mix were removed and put away.
Cathy sat herself on the couch, grabbing the remote and looking through the TV guide. Ooh, Nick was airing an iCarly marathon.
"Nice try," her mother smirked as she swiped the remote. Dammit…
The channel was changed to USA, playing the endless reruns of NCIS, as usual.
Her mother sat herself down on the recliner, grabbing her Kindle from the side pocket. Like many she knew, her mother was entranced by that book series, Changing Destiny. Cathy somehow forced herself to finish the first book, but most of it went over her head. Something about a ship having boobs, time travel, a plot by time travellers to kill Hitler (wasn't that a Doctor Who episode?), and Pearl Harbor starting a week before it happened in reality.
In short, it was probably going to be adapted by Michael Bay, who would consider such a thing to be beyond his wildest dreams of America, Boobs, and Explosions.
But there was something in the air, a certain calm before the storm. She could hear the wind gusting outside, alongside the windchimes singing away. It wasn't the weather, though. Something was on her mother's mind, her eyebrows furrowed as she swiped on the screen. Her eyes widened, no doubt caught by a plot twist.
"Something going on, mom?" Cathy asked.
"I'm reading the book, and…" she took a deep breath. "I'm not sure how to explain this to you. You never cared too much for this stuff, but there were three battleships lost at Pearl Harbor—"
"Not the book," Cathy cut her off impatiently. "Is there something else going on?"
Her mom's eyes widened, as she remembered something. "Oh, thank you for reminding me!" Her mother exclaimed. "I got a Skype message from Nachi, one of Ashigara's sisters, and she wants us to come down to New Orleans and meet her."
Cathy felt her stomach drop. They may as well meet her at an anime convention. "I'm not going," she stated bluntly.
"Cathy, you're too young—"
"I'm eighteen, mom!" She pouted. "You let Jimmy go out and get shot at, and I'm treated like I'm five!"
"He had some time to mature a little," her mom countered.
"He was in it to get laid!" She yelled. "And now we're being dragged to New Orleans—"
"We aren't being dragged, Cathy, and believe it or not, but your brother very much loves that woman, and he's probably going to marry her. We need to know who we're going to be dealing with once he does," she stated firmly, rising from her seat. "I don't know what has gotten into your head, but—"
"Gee, maybe it's because Jimmy's going to die!?" Cathy stated, rising as well. "The Navy vanished, and he's going to vanish, too!" She shouted, tears welling in her eyes.
"Cathy…"
"He's a fuckin' idiot!" She wailed. "We needed him, not this country, and he decided to fuck off and a-abandon us anyway!" She sank to her knees, trying to wipe away at the tears in her eyes. "W-We had this conversation b-before, so I dunno why you act so surprised…"
The next thing she felt was her mother's embrace. "I'm not, Cathy," she said. "We'll get through this."
Not with the faint scent of death in the air.
[=]
To see Jintsuu-mama with such a sad face didn't make Jane Richardson happy. Was it over Sendai?
"Oh, Jane," she greeted. "I almost didn't notice you. I'm terribly sorry," she bowed. "Do you need something?"
"Are you sad, Jintsuu-mama?" Jane asked. "You look that way."
Her frown turned into a small smile, as a small laugh left her. "I'm quite alright, just a little concerned is all," she replied. "I was told by Myoukou that Ashigara's new boyfriend has a sister who isn't taking his deployment well."
"Really?" Jane asked. She knew that many sailors had families back home, who wanted their spouses, children, parents, and siblings to be safe. She felt much the same way when Jintsuu and the others sortied, hoping they could return home safely.
"Yes. She lives well inland, and apparently doesn't understand why her brother chooses to fight."
"Why?" Jane asked, confused and surprised. "The Abyssals are evil, and they want to kill everyone."
"I'm not sure," she said. "Perhaps it's because she doesn't live near the sea, and hasn't been subjected to shelling or bombing raids. But it troubles me because even during the last war, when our countries were enemies, our peoples were still proud to send their sons to fight. With everything at stake, she should be proud that he's willing to lay down his life if it keeps her safe."
Jane looked down. She remembered her father, before the war, sometimes talking to someone about 'war fatigue,' or how fewer people wanted to serve their country. "Maybe I can send her something to cheer her up?" She asked.
"Like what, may I ask?"
"Chibis!" Jane suggested. "I can summon some chibis and send them her way!"
Jintsuu smiled, laughing. "I'm not sure if Chibis will truly fix it, but they may help."
"And maybe I can have her talk to you, too!"
"I think she wouldn't want to take a phone or Skype call from someone as young as you, even if you're on your way to being an Admiral," Jintsuu quietly replied.
"But I am the Admiral!" She playfully pouted.
"Not yet," Jintsuu smirked, before patting her head. Jane couldn't help but laugh. She had her own fleet, but they were small, not big. One day she would be the Admiral, but until then, she just had to make do with her growing armada. "But still, maybe the chibis aren't a bad idea. Do you have an address?"
From: Jane Richardson, US Fleet Activities Sasebo, Sasebo, Japan
To: Catherine Hunter, PO Box 21, Munroe Falls, Ohio, United States, 44262
I heard you were sad and missed your brother, so I sent you some friends to keep you company! Take good care of them, please!
With love,
Jane Richardson
RDM John Richardson, US Navy
JS Mutsu
JS Jintsū
JS Hiei
JS Yamato
JS Shimakaze
USS Arizona (BB-39)
[=]
On the Home Front (Part 3)
Bills trying to expand public transit have been pushed, especially by the Democrats in the wake of fuel rationing, but there have been numerous debates between passing them, or more emergency naval construction bills. Amtrak, meanwhile, is all too eager to take advantage of the airline industry being kicked between the legs, but aren't in the position to do so, having their feet stepped on by freight carriers and few people being in the mood to travel to traditional tourist locales, like Los Angeles or Miami.
Meanwhile, many religious groups are divided on the Abyssal War and shipgirls. Some, naturally, consider it to be a sign of the End Times. Others see the shipgirls as Angels sent to cleanse the seas from those who dared escape Hell. Some Muslims consider the shipgirls to be a form of djinn, though an immodestly-dressed one. Still others are completely dumbstruck, never considering ships to be alive in the first place, regardless of whether they've held any particular faith or not.
War fatigue from over a decade spent trying to pacify the Middle East has also taken its toll on the American populace. The Abyssals struck at a bad time, with many still having bitter recollections of the events in Iraq and Afghanistan. Coupled with the fact that this is largely a naval war, recruitment hasn't been the best, which is bad considering the Invasion of Hawaii has spooked America's military command. If the Abyssals can try and take Hawaii, they can make an attempt against Los Angeles or New York, and that fear, of civilians jam-packed onto the interstates like cattle lined up for slaughter, among countless other potential horrors, casts a shadow over both the Pentagon and the White House.
ijnfleetadmiral
CinC Rengo Kanmusutai
- Location
- Admiral's Bridge, HIJMS Kongo
And in other words, he'll find some way to fuck it up epically. (See Pearl Harbor as evidence of that.) Better let Spielberg, Eastwood, or Ronald F. Maxwell handle it.
In the meantime, I wonder who's going to be summoned?
"Welcome back, sailor. Report!"
"U.S.S. Guam, CB-2, reporting for duty, sir!"
"EEEEEEEE!!!"
"'L-'Laska? Is it really you?!"
"GUAMMIE! You're back! I have a boyfriend! He's awesome! Ooh, and I have Hot Wheels! And Legos!"
Admiral_Corgi
The Admiral of the PT Boats
- Location
- The Strange land of Florida
Just a small preface to this analysis/review post. Warning: May have been unwittingly done under the influence of contact cement fumes due to a careless Brother.
I can't be arsed to go back and make any needed changes to this here right now. Its 2 am and I wanna sleep. So yeah. When I repost this on SB. I'll be sure to correct anything that seems majorly outta place.
This whole section here, All of it. Its gives me a better idea of just how hard the civilian population is being impacted by the on going war. The fact that the roads are more on the emptier side tells me that Gas is probably hovering somewhere around $5.50 a gallon, though this is just a speculative guess. Hell it could probably be as high as $7.25 a gallon or higher still in some areas. Which would certainly make people use public transportation when and were possible. Though I do find a measure of comfort in that bit with the Brand new Store. Gives a good sense of American resilience, we may haven been dealt a sucker punch but we ain't gonna stay down forever from it.
I had fully been expecting the Doomsayers to come crawling out of the wood work ever since I read the first chapter of this story. Its inevitable to see em, and its even better to see Karen ignore em. There ain't no time for nonsense like that after all, there's a war to win! Though I do imagine that there is a fair number of people inland who believe said doomsayers and perhaps more in the areas that actually have the threat of a Abyssal raid/attack hanging over their heads. But again this is speculation.
I liked this entire exchange here, and I can share Karen's assessment that Hagerou needs a hug. I do find it amusing the archaic way Nachi speaks also makes its way to her texts. Something tells me Nachi was using voice-to-text during the conversation. Though seeing how Karen was not surprised that her son ended up with some one strong-willed makes think that its something that's ran in the family for Generations.
I love seeing Nachi think over on how to go about meeting Karen and Catherine. I'm curious about what exactly happened in that social media debacle involving Cathy and Myoukou, but part of me thinks its better if it isn't shown. At the very least the Gulf Admiral (I need to see if this fella has been named or not prior) didn't have anything like the PR disaster that the Jersey-Musashi 'Dragon riding' (that's what I've personally nicknamed it) tweet was. But yeah a meet and greet between civilians and Ship Girls would certainly do wonders to get people to firmly believe the crazy that's going on. And well, I believe, become more willing to give aid and support for the war effort.
Wait... There's four Kagerō's in the Gulf?! Oh boy this is gonna be interesting. I mean I knew Hamakaze was in the gulf, but I didn't realize (or more likely I forgot) that she had her sisters with her.
I loved this exchange here (well actuallt the other half of the converstion) when you had originally shown a preview of part of it, and now seeing the whole hing is even better. Also Nachi, you underestimated the Cruiser information network, you shouldn't do that.
Though I can't shake the feeling that Atago may have gotten the info from a source that many people don't pay attention to... The PT Boats. They can be gremlins in their own right at times.
Okay this here gives me ideas for my next Omake segment. Oh poor William, just when he thinks he can breath easy. The other shoe gonna drop on him.
Okay that was cute. very cute. I also think Nachi might be one who's brave enough to try Moonshine. Maybe.
Okay this entire sequence here. Boy oh boy does it show us how Cathrine is scared of losing her brother. That desperate gripping fear of him vanishing like the Navy had essentially vanished when the war started. I could empathize and now clearly understand why Cathy holds such anominostiy towards things.
Oh my, much fun and interesting times lay ahead here. I wonder who Jane sent~
But alas theform of the destroyer has been chosen final irrefutable instrument to make Cathy believe is at hand if this meet and greet doesn't do the trick!
I can't be arsed to go back and make any needed changes to this here right now. Its 2 am and I wanna sleep. So yeah. When I repost this on SB. I'll be sure to correct anything that seems majorly outta place.
"Route Ten, Howard, Portage Trail."
The smell of gasoline and fresh food filled the chilly winter air as Karen Hunter stepped off the crowded bus. The car had been low on gas, and she wasn't wasting it for only a handful of things, even if the route to Market District had become more convoluted. The store was brand-new, a sign of defiance against a sluggish economy. The worst of the Abyssal Recession had begun to pass, but that didn't mean things were all of a sudden pleasant. The roads were on the emptier side, which was fine by her. Traffic in this part of town was usually hellish, especially this time of year.
Across State Road, she could hear some doomsday preacher rambling on about how the Abyssals were the 'Beast From the Sea' predicted by the Book of Revelation. The man didn't really care that said beast had been punched in the face repeatedly by large shells, rather than making the world kneel before it.
Letting out a small sigh, she pressed on and crossed the street, ignoring the doomsayers. She had dealt with far too many of them where she had came from, years ago. Each dealt with the world they now were a part of in their own way. Cathy was a shining example of that.
A buzz came from her phone, a text from one of Cathy's old teachers. Strange that she was checking in. Her daughter had graduated several months ago, and had no interest in college.
'Is Cathy doing alright?'
Another sigh, as Karen paused and typed back.
'She's been even more stressed out recently. My son is dating one of the ship girls, and she thinks that Jimmy's new girlfriend is desperate.'
'Japanese?'
Karen couldn't help but let out a small laugh. 'Of course.'
'I still remember him mentioning how Japanese ships had all sorts of problems.'
Oh, the joys of her kids having the same teachers. 'Sounds like him.'
'Tell Cathy I said hi, and that we're praying for her.'
'Alright. Take care.'
'You too
Putting her phone back in her pocket, she pressed on. If there was one place that had a good curry mix, this had to be it. She was not going to let Ashigara go without something homemade. There were a few cars in the lot, mostly people who had the gas to spare, or who had to haul a bunch of groceries home. Most took the bus, and Metro was working to expand its services, even though a route ran not too far from home. A shame it was still a bit of a walk from her house to the stop.
The warmth of the store's heating greeted her a brief walk later, as the countless and unique smells of fresh-cooked and yet-to-be-cooked food surrounded her. Hopefully this wouldn't take long. However, her phone buzzing again got her attention. Letting out a sigh, Karen made her way to the second floor, grabbed a seat, and checked what the fuss was all about.
This whole section here, All of it. Its gives me a better idea of just how hard the civilian population is being impacted by the on going war. The fact that the roads are more on the emptier side tells me that Gas is probably hovering somewhere around $5.50 a gallon, though this is just a speculative guess. Hell it could probably be as high as $7.25 a gallon or higher still in some areas. Which would certainly make people use public transportation when and were possible. Though I do find a measure of comfort in that bit with the Brand new Store. Gives a good sense of American resilience, we may haven been dealt a sucker punch but we ain't gonna stay down forever from it.
I had fully been expecting the Doomsayers to come crawling out of the wood work ever since I read the first chapter of this story. Its inevitable to see em, and its even better to see Karen ignore em. There ain't no time for nonsense like that after all, there's a war to win! Though I do imagine that there is a fair number of people inland who believe said doomsayers and perhaps more in the areas that actually have the threat of a Abyssal raid/attack hanging over their heads. But again this is speculation.
I liked this entire exchange here, and I can share Karen's assessment that Hagerou needs a hug. I do find it amusing the archaic way Nachi speaks also makes its way to her texts. Something tells me Nachi was using voice-to-text during the conversation. Though seeing how Karen was not surprised that her son ended up with some one strong-willed makes think that its something that's ran in the family for Generations.
I love seeing Nachi think over on how to go about meeting Karen and Catherine. I'm curious about what exactly happened in that social media debacle involving Cathy and Myoukou, but part of me thinks its better if it isn't shown. At the very least the Gulf Admiral (I need to see if this fella has been named or not prior) didn't have anything like the PR disaster that the Jersey-Musashi 'Dragon riding' (that's what I've personally nicknamed it) tweet was. But yeah a meet and greet between civilians and Ship Girls would certainly do wonders to get people to firmly believe the crazy that's going on. And well, I believe, become more willing to give aid and support for the war effort.
Wait... There's four Kagerō's in the Gulf?! Oh boy this is gonna be interesting. I mean I knew Hamakaze was in the gulf, but I didn't realize (or more likely I forgot) that she had her sisters with her.
I loved this exchange here (well actuallt the other half of the converstion) when you had originally shown a preview of part of it, and now seeing the whole hing is even better. Also Nachi, you underestimated the Cruiser information network, you shouldn't do that.
Though I can't shake the feeling that Atago may have gotten the info from a source that many people don't pay attention to... The PT Boats. They can be gremlins in their own right at times.
Okay this here gives me ideas for my next Omake segment. Oh poor William, just when he thinks he can breath easy. The other shoe gonna drop on him.
Okay that was cute. very cute. I also think Nachi might be one who's brave enough to try Moonshine. Maybe.
Okay this entire sequence here. Boy oh boy does it show us how Cathrine is scared of losing her brother. That desperate gripping fear of him vanishing like the Navy had essentially vanished when the war started. I could empathize and now clearly understand why Cathy holds such anominostiy towards things.
Oh my, much fun and interesting times lay ahead here. I wonder who Jane sent~
But alas the
ijnfleetadmiral
CinC Rengo Kanmusutai
- Location
- Admiral's Bridge, HIJMS Kongo
When all else fails, send in the Mark X Puppy Eyes. Guaranteed to melt even the coldest of hearts. Even Grinchsylvania's ( ) is slowly beginning to thaw.
) is slowly beginning to thaw.
Harry Leferts
Suave Shadow Cabal Kaiju
Oh, by the way @Admiral_Corgi? I still ship you with possible Corgigirls if it goes the way of Japanese mythology (where an animal who lives long enoug develops mystical powers which includes shape shifting into human form). Because considering Texas also being a tsukumogami, it's not impossible....
Admiral_Corgi
The Admiral of the PT Boats
- Location
- The Strange land of Florida
Wouldn't it take another additional 100 years for them to gain the shape shifting into human form ability though?
- Location
- Minot, North Dakota
Second Chances
Pt 5. "Homecomings"
GM1 Jennifer Nash walked through the terminal at the Jacksonville International Airport. The cross-country flight had been long, and she had slept a good bit of it. She wasn't sure if this was where she wanted to be, but it was the only place she really had to go. She had called the security office at King's Bay to let them know she had arrived, and they said someone had already been sent to pick her up. She hoped it would be one of the civilian employees. She wasn't sure if she could face another serviceman. She hadn't even worn her uniform because the last thing she wanted to hear was another "thank you for your service."
She had asked for permission to join the reinforcements headed to support the rest of the Hawaiian Islands. She had asked for permission to join the task force supporting the ship girls that were gathering at San Diego. The answer was a resounding "No." She was told by very caring medical personnel that she had suffered a psychological trauma when all her shipmates and friends were killed aboard USS Missouri. The paperwork for her leave had already been sent through by the time Almirante Grau docked in San Diego.
She picked up her luggage off the carousel, then heard a voice behind her.
"How ya doing, Guns?" She spun around to see who had called her. Damn. Of all the people who could have come to get her. Jennifer looked at the short blonde beauty who had spoken to her. Blue CPO cap, blue uniform coat that was regulation before the first world war with a Chief Boatswain's Mate patch and 14 red hashmarks up her sleeve, white shirt, black string bowtie, and a tight fitting blue mid-thigh skirt that wasn't regulation ever. Almost 60 years of service, how could Essa even look at someone who had missed her ship's final battle? Jennifer put on the best smile she could, "Not bad, Boats."
Master Chief Essa grinned at the response and walked over and hugged the young sailor. Essa hadn't been around a long time as a ship girl, but she had become fast friends with her CO's oldest daughter.
"Come on, Jen, let's get you home." She picked up Jennifer's luggage and led her out to where she had parked her car.
Jennifer had expected to see a regular Navy fleet car. What she was not expecting was a 1961 Lincoln Continental. "Holy crap, Essa! Is this yours?"
Essa beamed. "Don't you love it?! Some guy was bailing out of St. Mary's. Just tired of worrying about Abyssals, I guess, and was selling off his car collection. This one…just spoke to me."
Jennifer couldn't resist, and as she got in, said "What did it say, 'Please don't drive me past a book depository'?"
Essa playfully waved a finger at her, "Don't be cheeky, Gunner's Mate." "Aye, Aye, Master Chief. I have no cheeks.", was Jennifer's laughing response.
Once they got on the road, Jennifer became quieter and Essa became more concerned.
Finally, Jennifer spoke. "How do you know if a sailor is a..a..Jonah?"
"A Jonah?" said Essa. "I think you've been watching too many old movies, Jen. Why do you ask?"
"I was thinking, I was on Wisconsin when she sank, and I had been aboard Missouri before she sank. Maybe…" Jennifer was suddenly thrown against the seat belt as the big antique sedan screeched to a stop on the side of the highway.
"Maybe what? Maybe you caused them to sink because of some kind of mystical bad luck? Wait, did someone say you were bad luck, because you need to point me to them, so I can shove an eleven-inch cannonball up their fourth point of contact!" Essa reached over and took Jen's hand. "You are not to blame for what happened", she said gently, "I am a ship from the time when people actually believed that kind of nonsense. If you were a bad luck seaman, all my older faires would be whispering about it. Not wanting to defend your honor, like they are doing now. I know you miss your friends. But you shouldn't blame yourself for things you can't control."
"I know.", said Jennifer, "Thank you."
Essa held onto Jennifer's hand. "Anytime you need to talk, or cry, or drink and talk, or drink and cry and talk, I am here for you. OK? I wish I could fix it for you. But I will be here for you. Like the Good Book says, 'Bear ye one another's burdens'."
Jen asked, "Are you sure? I don't want to intrude."
Essa grinned, "Well, I'm between boyfriends at the moment, so it's not like I have a full social calendar."
Jen smiled, "You know, you can form relationships with guys..."
Essa laughed. "Oh well. I'll repeat a mistake once in a while, as long as he was good the first time around..."
Jen laughed and shook her head. That was Essa. Quote the Apostle Paul one second, and quote Mae West the next.
The car pulled back onto the highway. "You know", said Essa, "Essex really dislikes that movie."
"Which one, Master and Commander? Why?
"Well, first, the British are the heroes. Second, she thinks it's funny that they had to play up the enemy ship into a heavy frigate, more like Connie, to make it believable as a threat. Said it would be like making a movie of Samar and having the Taffies portrayed as Cruisers and Battleships."
Jennifer started laughing at the mental image of the 5th rate frigate, watching the movie and complaining at the screen about its inaccuracies.
"Oh, one other thing, when you get home your sheets might have a slight whiff of burned whale blubber."
"What?" It wasn't the strangest thing Jen had ever heard from a ship girl, but it was definitely in the top ten.
"Yeah, your mother let a whaler sleep in your room for a few nights."
"Ok, I'm not following. What happened?"
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Later that night, About 10 miles offshore
Commander Essex stood leisurely in the rolling swells. Her lookouts were on alert, watching for any sign of U-boats or PT Boats. The new moon didn't allow much light, but it also couldn't reflect off her sails or silhouette her masts. She had held her own in a few skirmishes against abyssal lightweights, but had no illusions about fighting, well, surviving anything larger than herself with a steel hull. Desk work, however, made her stir crazy, so she relished the opportunities to come out and check the shoreline blackout compliance. She couldn't see anything more than the authorized lighting, so she turned to face out to sea. It was incredible, just taking in the sounds, the smells, the sights.
She knew Essie was approaching on her port quarter, as one of her lookouts had been stating her range for a while now. She turned to look at the little whaler.
"Essie! Douse your running lamps and weather deck lamps! You're making yourself an easy target!"
"Oh! I'm sorry!" The offending lights were quickly extinguished. The little brunette looked at her bare feet.
"Sorry, for snapping at you like that.", said Essex. "I know you are still getting used to being a girl and a ship. Just remember, to the enemy, you may appear as both, so you need to be aware of your conditions at all times."
"Of course, Commander. I'll keep it mind for next time. Isn't it dangerous for us to be out here alone in the dark?"
"We're not alone, Essie. We have three ASW blimps overhead as we speak. SMS Hindenburg is about 20 miles north of us, as well as 2 ASW Seahawks south and west of us." She held up her phone for the whaler to see.
"That's incredible." She shook her head. "The technology today is astounding."
"How are you adjusting?", asked the frigate.
"Oh, I'm doing alright. Learning all about the computators, and the radioterers, and the televideators…."
Essex looked at her with a raised eyebrow and a questioning smirk.
"OK! I called the Commodore's wife a witch when she made light appear!"
Essex laughed. "Don't worry. It's a learning curve for all of us. Essa had the easiest time, since she served up into the 1920s."
Essie asked, "did you think the lights were magic?"
"No," said the Commander, "I thought it was still a lamp of some kind with a striker in the wall. My problem was the phones and the TV and computer screens. I thought everyone was a witch or a wizard who had trapped people's souls in these little boxes."
"Oh no! What did you do?"
"What any good American would do. I struck the boxes from people's hands and desks with my saber to free the captive souls! It took a while for them to talk me down.", laughed Essex.
The two ships drifted side by side for a while.
"You know something, Commander? This is the first time I have touched the Atlantic in nearly two hundred years. I spent a lot of time in the Pacific when I was hunting, but I never considered it home. When this war is over, I would like to sail up to Nantucket."
Essex smiled. She hadn't really talked to the newest ship girl outside of duty. She was glad Essie had sailed out to visit. "Well, hopefully you will get your chance. The Atlantic was always home for me as well. I would like to see the Mediterranean and the Pacific in peacetime though." She looked down at the fish swimming about her shoes. "This is why I love being out here. The quiet. You can almost imagine it's still the nineteenth century."
Essie kicked a splash of water at a fourteen-foot Tiger shark that got a little too inquisitive. "Blasted beasts. Too many of my crew have lost their lives or limbs to them. You are right. Nothing but the sound of the water, the wind..."
"The creaking of the rigging, the ships bell on the hour, maybe some fiddle or flute music from the off-watch. No turbines, no pumps, no reciprocating pistons, no blowers, no machinery. All that's missing may be some whale songs.", said Essex.
"Wrong time of the year, commander. The humpbacks will be making their migration back north in a few months. The rights will be moving south to their breeding grounds a few months after that. By the way, I wanted to thank you, for what you did during the War." Seeing the question on Essex' face, she said, "Taking the stand for sailor's rights against impressment, and going after the British whaling fleet. I had men talking about that for years, they were so proud to be sailing on a ship bearing the name, Essex."
Commander Essex looked down. 'Thank yous' for a War most people didn't remember nowadays wasn't something she was used to. "Well, I can't take all the credit. Captain Porter had those banners made, though I agreed with the sentiment. It was he and my crew that deserve the credit." She wanted to change the subject. "How do you feel about whales now? Given what happened?"
Essie laughed. "Oh, whales don't bother me. Just because one got too temperamental doesn't mean anyone should fear them." She paused. "We never imagined that they could ever disappear. We figured no matter how many we killed, they would just keep being born to replace the ones harvested. We were wrong. At least there's no need to keep hunting them anymore. Whale oil would be one of the least profitable resources now, so without a demand, there's no market in the Americas."
Essex looked at the whaler and reached over to squeeze her shoulder. This had been an enlightening evening. Fair weather, good company, and the camaraderie of the sea. It was almost a pity to return to shore and the twenty first century.
Pt 5. "Homecomings"
GM1 Jennifer Nash walked through the terminal at the Jacksonville International Airport. The cross-country flight had been long, and she had slept a good bit of it. She wasn't sure if this was where she wanted to be, but it was the only place she really had to go. She had called the security office at King's Bay to let them know she had arrived, and they said someone had already been sent to pick her up. She hoped it would be one of the civilian employees. She wasn't sure if she could face another serviceman. She hadn't even worn her uniform because the last thing she wanted to hear was another "thank you for your service."
She had asked for permission to join the reinforcements headed to support the rest of the Hawaiian Islands. She had asked for permission to join the task force supporting the ship girls that were gathering at San Diego. The answer was a resounding "No." She was told by very caring medical personnel that she had suffered a psychological trauma when all her shipmates and friends were killed aboard USS Missouri. The paperwork for her leave had already been sent through by the time Almirante Grau docked in San Diego.
She picked up her luggage off the carousel, then heard a voice behind her.
"How ya doing, Guns?" She spun around to see who had called her. Damn. Of all the people who could have come to get her. Jennifer looked at the short blonde beauty who had spoken to her. Blue CPO cap, blue uniform coat that was regulation before the first world war with a Chief Boatswain's Mate patch and 14 red hashmarks up her sleeve, white shirt, black string bowtie, and a tight fitting blue mid-thigh skirt that wasn't regulation ever. Almost 60 years of service, how could Essa even look at someone who had missed her ship's final battle? Jennifer put on the best smile she could, "Not bad, Boats."
Master Chief Essa grinned at the response and walked over and hugged the young sailor. Essa hadn't been around a long time as a ship girl, but she had become fast friends with her CO's oldest daughter.
"Come on, Jen, let's get you home." She picked up Jennifer's luggage and led her out to where she had parked her car.
Jennifer had expected to see a regular Navy fleet car. What she was not expecting was a 1961 Lincoln Continental. "Holy crap, Essa! Is this yours?"
Essa beamed. "Don't you love it?! Some guy was bailing out of St. Mary's. Just tired of worrying about Abyssals, I guess, and was selling off his car collection. This one…just spoke to me."
Jennifer couldn't resist, and as she got in, said "What did it say, 'Please don't drive me past a book depository'?"
Essa playfully waved a finger at her, "Don't be cheeky, Gunner's Mate." "Aye, Aye, Master Chief. I have no cheeks.", was Jennifer's laughing response.
Once they got on the road, Jennifer became quieter and Essa became more concerned.
Finally, Jennifer spoke. "How do you know if a sailor is a..a..Jonah?"
"A Jonah?" said Essa. "I think you've been watching too many old movies, Jen. Why do you ask?"
"I was thinking, I was on Wisconsin when she sank, and I had been aboard Missouri before she sank. Maybe…" Jennifer was suddenly thrown against the seat belt as the big antique sedan screeched to a stop on the side of the highway.
"Maybe what? Maybe you caused them to sink because of some kind of mystical bad luck? Wait, did someone say you were bad luck, because you need to point me to them, so I can shove an eleven-inch cannonball up their fourth point of contact!" Essa reached over and took Jen's hand. "You are not to blame for what happened", she said gently, "I am a ship from the time when people actually believed that kind of nonsense. If you were a bad luck seaman, all my older faires would be whispering about it. Not wanting to defend your honor, like they are doing now. I know you miss your friends. But you shouldn't blame yourself for things you can't control."
"I know.", said Jennifer, "Thank you."
Essa held onto Jennifer's hand. "Anytime you need to talk, or cry, or drink and talk, or drink and cry and talk, I am here for you. OK? I wish I could fix it for you. But I will be here for you. Like the Good Book says, 'Bear ye one another's burdens'."
Jen asked, "Are you sure? I don't want to intrude."
Essa grinned, "Well, I'm between boyfriends at the moment, so it's not like I have a full social calendar."
Jen smiled, "You know, you can form relationships with guys..."
Essa laughed. "Oh well. I'll repeat a mistake once in a while, as long as he was good the first time around..."
Jen laughed and shook her head. That was Essa. Quote the Apostle Paul one second, and quote Mae West the next.
The car pulled back onto the highway. "You know", said Essa, "Essex really dislikes that movie."
"Which one, Master and Commander? Why?
"Well, first, the British are the heroes. Second, she thinks it's funny that they had to play up the enemy ship into a heavy frigate, more like Connie, to make it believable as a threat. Said it would be like making a movie of Samar and having the Taffies portrayed as Cruisers and Battleships."
Jennifer started laughing at the mental image of the 5th rate frigate, watching the movie and complaining at the screen about its inaccuracies.
"Oh, one other thing, when you get home your sheets might have a slight whiff of burned whale blubber."
"What?" It wasn't the strangest thing Jen had ever heard from a ship girl, but it was definitely in the top ten.
"Yeah, your mother let a whaler sleep in your room for a few nights."
"Ok, I'm not following. What happened?"
--------------------------------------------------------------------
Later that night, About 10 miles offshore
Commander Essex stood leisurely in the rolling swells. Her lookouts were on alert, watching for any sign of U-boats or PT Boats. The new moon didn't allow much light, but it also couldn't reflect off her sails or silhouette her masts. She had held her own in a few skirmishes against abyssal lightweights, but had no illusions about fighting, well, surviving anything larger than herself with a steel hull. Desk work, however, made her stir crazy, so she relished the opportunities to come out and check the shoreline blackout compliance. She couldn't see anything more than the authorized lighting, so she turned to face out to sea. It was incredible, just taking in the sounds, the smells, the sights.
She knew Essie was approaching on her port quarter, as one of her lookouts had been stating her range for a while now. She turned to look at the little whaler.
"Essie! Douse your running lamps and weather deck lamps! You're making yourself an easy target!"
"Oh! I'm sorry!" The offending lights were quickly extinguished. The little brunette looked at her bare feet.
"Sorry, for snapping at you like that.", said Essex. "I know you are still getting used to being a girl and a ship. Just remember, to the enemy, you may appear as both, so you need to be aware of your conditions at all times."
"Of course, Commander. I'll keep it mind for next time. Isn't it dangerous for us to be out here alone in the dark?"
"We're not alone, Essie. We have three ASW blimps overhead as we speak. SMS Hindenburg is about 20 miles north of us, as well as 2 ASW Seahawks south and west of us." She held up her phone for the whaler to see.
"That's incredible." She shook her head. "The technology today is astounding."
"How are you adjusting?", asked the frigate.
"Oh, I'm doing alright. Learning all about the computators, and the radioterers, and the televideators…."
Essex looked at her with a raised eyebrow and a questioning smirk.
"OK! I called the Commodore's wife a witch when she made light appear!"
Essex laughed. "Don't worry. It's a learning curve for all of us. Essa had the easiest time, since she served up into the 1920s."
Essie asked, "did you think the lights were magic?"
"No," said the Commander, "I thought it was still a lamp of some kind with a striker in the wall. My problem was the phones and the TV and computer screens. I thought everyone was a witch or a wizard who had trapped people's souls in these little boxes."
"Oh no! What did you do?"
"What any good American would do. I struck the boxes from people's hands and desks with my saber to free the captive souls! It took a while for them to talk me down.", laughed Essex.
The two ships drifted side by side for a while.
"You know something, Commander? This is the first time I have touched the Atlantic in nearly two hundred years. I spent a lot of time in the Pacific when I was hunting, but I never considered it home. When this war is over, I would like to sail up to Nantucket."
Essex smiled. She hadn't really talked to the newest ship girl outside of duty. She was glad Essie had sailed out to visit. "Well, hopefully you will get your chance. The Atlantic was always home for me as well. I would like to see the Mediterranean and the Pacific in peacetime though." She looked down at the fish swimming about her shoes. "This is why I love being out here. The quiet. You can almost imagine it's still the nineteenth century."
Essie kicked a splash of water at a fourteen-foot Tiger shark that got a little too inquisitive. "Blasted beasts. Too many of my crew have lost their lives or limbs to them. You are right. Nothing but the sound of the water, the wind..."
"The creaking of the rigging, the ships bell on the hour, maybe some fiddle or flute music from the off-watch. No turbines, no pumps, no reciprocating pistons, no blowers, no machinery. All that's missing may be some whale songs.", said Essex.
"Wrong time of the year, commander. The humpbacks will be making their migration back north in a few months. The rights will be moving south to their breeding grounds a few months after that. By the way, I wanted to thank you, for what you did during the War." Seeing the question on Essex' face, she said, "Taking the stand for sailor's rights against impressment, and going after the British whaling fleet. I had men talking about that for years, they were so proud to be sailing on a ship bearing the name, Essex."
Commander Essex looked down. 'Thank yous' for a War most people didn't remember nowadays wasn't something she was used to. "Well, I can't take all the credit. Captain Porter had those banners made, though I agreed with the sentiment. It was he and my crew that deserve the credit." She wanted to change the subject. "How do you feel about whales now? Given what happened?"
Essie laughed. "Oh, whales don't bother me. Just because one got too temperamental doesn't mean anyone should fear them." She paused. "We never imagined that they could ever disappear. We figured no matter how many we killed, they would just keep being born to replace the ones harvested. We were wrong. At least there's no need to keep hunting them anymore. Whale oil would be one of the least profitable resources now, so without a demand, there's no market in the Americas."
Essex looked at the whaler and reached over to squeeze her shoulder. This had been an enlightening evening. Fair weather, good company, and the camaraderie of the sea. It was almost a pity to return to shore and the twenty first century.
Admiral_Corgi
The Admiral of the PT Boats
- Location
- The Strange land of Florida
Well folks while I've been working on another Corgi omake. I figured I should give ya'll a preview of whats coming around the corner~
"God dammit. God fucking dammit. I fucking knew it. I knew some other shoe was gonna drop! I just knew it was gonna happen. I never have any good luck!" Lieutenant Corgi fumed as he looked at his email on his smartphone. He made no attempt to keep quiet or suppress the borderline-furious tone of his voice as he flipped on his room's light and pulled a small suitcase out of the closet.
His phone had gone off at some point during the night but he hadn't been woken by it The PT Corgi that was watching over him during the night on the other hand had heard it and recognized it had to be important.
Of course though, because the normal pawing and whining hadn't succeeded in waking the Lieutenant, the PT Corgi had to use drastic measures to wake him up.
Which involved pulling out his dresser drawers to climb up to the top of the piece of furniture before jumping off it and onto his chest. At least that was what the Fairies told him after the PT boat had woken him up. At two thirty in the morning, almost a full two hours before he was suppose to be up.
"I knew I was gonna regret letting Pfc Ellen watch Garfield in the PT Barracks." Lieutenant Corgi muttered to himself as he got a day bag packed. He figured them seeing that movie was the only way the Corgis could have known that particular trick.
Of course though, the commotion in the middle of the night had woken Gunnery Sergeant Clayton and the rest of the PT boat support staff. Though only the Gunny dared to open the door to the Lieutenant's room to investigate.
"William what the hell is going on?" Clayton asked his friend in a rather concerned manner as he noticed the pulled out dresser drawers, Corgi packing a suitcase while simultaneously trying his dammed best to hate his phone out of existence.
"Jim, You Remember that Lieutenant Junior Grade that came in to take over my post in New Orleans when our unit and most of the PT Corgis got transferred here two months ago?" William asked his friend as he finished packing his suitcase.
"Yeah... Aww hell what happened to him?" Clayton said as realization dawned on him.
"Well, He's laid up in the infirmary right now. I don't know the details just yet, but what I do know is that the LTJG tried to break up a scuffle between one of the PT Corgis and a fucking blimpcat by grabbing the cat and trying to move it away from the PT Corgi. It goes without saying, the LTJG got savaged by the K-blimp." William said with gritted teeth.
Yet had no other choice but to contact the Corgis that'd certainly be on their way back from their night patrols. And inform them of the situation. The PT Corgis ... didn't take it too well if he or really any of the support staff were suddenly absent without advance notice. Corgi reasoned it was either because of the pack-like nature the PT boats had in their original lives or the fact that they had returned in the present day as dogs. Either way, if he didn't radio in to them about the situation. They'd probably end up upturning the ad-hoc base over in an attempt to find him.
As his hands picked up the headset, he felt a twinge in his left side. As he placed the headset on, two things struck him at once. One was an old Familiarity, the cozy comfort of memories from happier times. However accompanying that was a wave of phantom pain.
It was transient, there for no more than a split second, but the pain seared and rippled across the lower third of his back with raw intensity. In the pain's wake, came a flood of memories fountaining into the forefront of his mind like water from a five inch hole below a ship's waterline.
Lieutenant Corgi remained steadfast as he wrestled the flood of sights, sounds, smells, feelings, thoughts and sensations from dark day back then under control once more. It took only a few moments at most for him to finish that task. The only sign of his brief inner struggle visible to the outside was a brief white-knuckle clenching of his right hand. The Lieutenant keyed the microphone on with a heavy sigh...
[=]
"God dammit. God fucking dammit. I fucking knew it. I knew some other shoe was gonna drop! I just knew it was gonna happen. I never have any good luck!" Lieutenant Corgi fumed as he looked at his email on his smartphone. He made no attempt to keep quiet or suppress the borderline-furious tone of his voice as he flipped on his room's light and pulled a small suitcase out of the closet.
His phone had gone off at some point during the night but he hadn't been woken by it The PT Corgi that was watching over him during the night on the other hand had heard it and recognized it had to be important.
Of course though, because the normal pawing and whining hadn't succeeded in waking the Lieutenant, the PT Corgi had to use drastic measures to wake him up.
Which involved pulling out his dresser drawers to climb up to the top of the piece of furniture before jumping off it and onto his chest. At least that was what the Fairies told him after the PT boat had woken him up. At two thirty in the morning, almost a full two hours before he was suppose to be up.
"I knew I was gonna regret letting Pfc Ellen watch Garfield in the PT Barracks." Lieutenant Corgi muttered to himself as he got a day bag packed. He figured them seeing that movie was the only way the Corgis could have known that particular trick.
Of course though, the commotion in the middle of the night had woken Gunnery Sergeant Clayton and the rest of the PT boat support staff. Though only the Gunny dared to open the door to the Lieutenant's room to investigate.
"William what the hell is going on?" Clayton asked his friend in a rather concerned manner as he noticed the pulled out dresser drawers, Corgi packing a suitcase while simultaneously trying his dammed best to hate his phone out of existence.
"Jim, You Remember that Lieutenant Junior Grade that came in to take over my post in New Orleans when our unit and most of the PT Corgis got transferred here two months ago?" William asked his friend as he finished packing his suitcase.
"Yeah... Aww hell what happened to him?" Clayton said as realization dawned on him.
"Well, He's laid up in the infirmary right now. I don't know the details just yet, but what I do know is that the LTJG tried to break up a scuffle between one of the PT Corgis and a fucking blimpcat by grabbing the cat and trying to move it away from the PT Corgi. It goes without saying, the LTJG got savaged by the K-blimp." William said with gritted teeth.
[=]
Lieutenant Corgi hated using the radio set in the corner of the PT Barracks to contact the PT boats that were out on patrol. In fact he despised using the radio set for a few reasons, some where practical like the need to maintain radio silence, some though were very personal to him.Yet had no other choice but to contact the Corgis that'd certainly be on their way back from their night patrols. And inform them of the situation. The PT Corgis ... didn't take it too well if he or really any of the support staff were suddenly absent without advance notice. Corgi reasoned it was either because of the pack-like nature the PT boats had in their original lives or the fact that they had returned in the present day as dogs. Either way, if he didn't radio in to them about the situation. They'd probably end up upturning the ad-hoc base over in an attempt to find him.
As his hands picked up the headset, he felt a twinge in his left side. As he placed the headset on, two things struck him at once. One was an old Familiarity, the cozy comfort of memories from happier times. However accompanying that was a wave of phantom pain.
It was transient, there for no more than a split second, but the pain seared and rippled across the lower third of his back with raw intensity. In the pain's wake, came a flood of memories fountaining into the forefront of his mind like water from a five inch hole below a ship's waterline.
Lieutenant Corgi remained steadfast as he wrestled the flood of sights, sounds, smells, feelings, thoughts and sensations from dark day back then under control once more. It took only a few moments at most for him to finish that task. The only sign of his brief inner struggle visible to the outside was a brief white-knuckle clenching of his right hand. The Lieutenant keyed the microphone on with a heavy sigh...
Harry Leferts
Suave Shadow Cabal Kaiju
That's foxes though, spiders are something like 3,000 years and cats are... well, around fifteen to twenty years. So it is sort of all over the place.
- Location
- Canada
I had no idea somebody made a movie about Iowa...
- Location
- Minot, North Dakota
There is an episode of JAG based on the Iowa's turret explosion as well.
Omake: Doggos!
Admiral_Corgi
The Admiral of the PT Boats
- Location
- The Strange land of Florida
Well this took a bit longer to write up than I expected it to and ended up a bit longer than I had originally planned. And I can't believe I forgot to post this here too after I posted it on SB. But oh well, I hope y'all enjoy this omake.
Omake: An Officer and his Dogs; where blimpcats are the bane of the LT's life
"God dammit. God fucking dammit. I fucking knew it. I knew some other shoe was gonna drop! I just knew it was gonna happen. I never have any good luck!" Lieutenant Corgi fumed as he looked at his email on his smartphone. He made no attempt to keep quiet or suppress the borderline-furious tone of his voice as he flipped on his room's light and pulled a small suitcase out of the closet.
His phone had gone off at some point during the night but he hadn't been woken by it. The PT Corgi that was watching over him during the night on the other hand had heard it and recognized it had to be important.
Of course though, because the normal pawing and whining hadn't succeeded in waking the Lieutenant, the PT Corgi had to use drastic measures to wake him up.
Which involved pulling out his dresser drawers to climb up to the top of the piece of furniture before jumping off it and onto his chest. At least that was what the Fairies told him after the PT boat had woken him up. At two thirty in the morning, almost a full two hours before he was supposed to be up.
"I knew I was gonna regret letting Pfc Ellen watch Garfield in the PT Barracks." Lieutenant Corgi muttered to himself as he got a day bag packed. He figured them seeing that movie was the only way the Corgis could have known that particular trick.
Of course though, the commotion in the middle of the night had woken Gunnery Sergeant Clayton and the rest of the PT boat support staff. Though only the Gunny dared to open the door to the Lieutenant's room to investigate.
"William what the hell is going on?" Clayton asked his friend in a rather concerned manner as he noticed the pulled out dresser drawers, Corgi packing a suitcase while simultaneously trying his dammed best to hate his phone out of existence.
"Jim, You Remember that Lieutenant Junior Grade that came in to take over my post in New Orleans when our unit and most of the PT Corgis got transferred here two months ago?" William asked his friend as he finished packing his suitcase.
"Yeah... Aww hell what happened to him?" Clayton said as realization dawned on him.
"Well, He's laid up in the infirmary right now. I don't know the details just yet, but what I do know is that the LTJG tried to break up a scuffle between one of the PT Corgis and a fucking blimpcat by grabbing the cat and trying to move it away from the PT Corgi. It goes without saying; the LTJG got savaged by the K-blimp." William said with gritted teeth.
Lieutenant Corgi hated using the radio set in the corner of the PT Barracks to contact the PT boats that were out on patrol. In fact he despised using the radio set for a few reasons, some were practical like the need to maintain radio silence, some though were very personal to him.
Yet he had no other choice but to contact the Corgis that'd certainly be on their way back from their night patrols. And inform them of the situation. The PT Corgis ... didn't take it too well if he or really any of the support staff were suddenly absent without advance notice. Corgi reasoned it was either because of the pack-like nature the PT boats had in their original lives or the fact that they had returned in the present day as dogs. Either way, if he didn't radio in to them about the situation, then they'd probably end up upturning the ad-hoc base over in an attempt to find him.
As his hands picked up the headset, he felt a twinge in his left side. As he placed the headset on, two things struck him at once. One was an old Familiarity, the cozy comfort of memories from happier times. However accompanying that was a wave of phantom pain.
It was transient, there for no more than a split second, but the pain seared and rippled across the lower third of his back with raw intensity. In the pain's wake, came a flood of memories fountaining into the forefront of his mind like water from a five inch hole below a ship's waterline.
Lieutenant Corgi remained steadfast as he wrestled the flood of sights, sounds, smells, feelings, thoughts and sensations from that dark day back then under control once more. It took only a few moments at most for him to finish that task. The only sign of his brief inner struggle visible to the outside was a brief white-knuckle clenching of his right hand. The Lieutenant keyed the microphone on with a heavy sigh.
"Knight Dogs, Knight Dogs. This is Dog-Actual. Priority situation happened at Kennel House, Devil dog-actual will act in my place until the situation at Kennel house has been resolved. How copy?" William said tersely and quickly, naturally he said the message in code so its true meaning couldn't be understood by those who didn't already know its meaning. At least that was his hopes.
He couldn't put faith into his radio being incapable of having its signals intercepted by Abyssal forces. So despite his disdain for using the radio set when the dogs were deployed, he made sure that the dogs, his staff and other friendly units understood the meaning of his coded transmissions. Even if his particular method of coding messages did nothing to abate the dog related nicknames the enlisted and his fellow officers gave him and by extension, the unit he lead.
When Corgi heard four quick barks from the other end of the line, he knew the dogs had received and understood his message. "Solid Copy Knight Dogs, Dog-Actual out." Corgi spoke as with another sigh as he took the headset off and then switched the unit to receive only.
Yet despite this, Lieutenant Corgi found himself drifting asleep. But he'd find no restfulness in his slumber, only memories and nightmares awaited him.
His world was darkness.
He couldn't find any light, no matter how hard he tried; he couldn't even see his own hands in front of his face. Sound itself seemly ceased just mere inches outside the confines of his body. Leaving his own rapid fire breathing and terrified heartbeat as the only things he could hear.
And then the world came back to him slowly, the lapping of waves against steel, the groaning of metal under stress... the Screams of the wounded, the dying, those who were maliciously being plucked out of the water by some kind of monstrosity. But all these sounded were muted, muffled by a nigh-all consuming, agonizing ringing in his ears. He suddenly felt himself knocked down to the ground, the right side of his face smacking into something hard and unyielding in the seemingly never ending darkness.
He opened his eyes and realized he could see things other than endless darkness, but he couldn't focus on anything, his world was a blur of colors, his head spun and his limbs felt like they were made of lead dust and wet concrete. He saw a vague mass of black moving along in the distance, slowly closing in...
"-utenant! Lieutenant! Are you alright, Sir?" came the concerned if a bit distant voice of a Marine. A Marine that William realized was the driver of the truck. With desperation like a shipwrecked sailor clinging to flotsam amidst a storm, William jumped up off the deck he was on towards the voice to escape his nightmare.
Lieutenant Corgi awoke from his nightmare with a hard jolt, jumping up in his seat like his body was a heavy spring that was under a load that suddenly got removed. His seat belt biting into his shoulder as the sudden motion tripped the safety belt arrestor and kept him from banging his head against the cab's ceiling. His Hazel green eyes were wide and madly searching the Cabin for a few transient moments before reality caught up with him.
"What the hell were you murmuring on about in your sleep sir?" The driver asked with a considerable amount of concern in his voice, his head turned as much as he could toward William while still keeping eyes on the road.
"Uh-what? Are we there yet marine?" He asked his Marine driver while rubbing his face with one hand; it was a rushed attempt at changing the subject and deflecting the question. The driver for his part only gave him a nod before answering him, seeing no point in trying to get the LT to answer his original question he turned his head back to facing completely forward. "Yes sir, we just entered New Orleans proper, we'll be at the operations base in about 15."
"Good, good." Corgi said to the marine as his heart rate and breathing finally came back under control. The slight tremor in his hand from the spike of adrenaline that had coursed through his veins until moments ago was concealed by a prolonged check of his wrist watch. It was almost 0415.
He glanced out the window and saw the streets that were illuminated by dim street lights. The light themselves felt dimmer than there were and the shadows cast by them felt deeper and more sinister than they had right to be. Lieutenant Corgi didn't try to sleep for the extra 15 minutes. He wouldn't dare it.
It didn't take long for Lieutenant Corgi to find the command building and report in for his summons. It took an even shorter amount of time for him to get to the PT Barracks since he still remembered the route to that part of the base from the Headquarters building.
When he entered the building, William saw eight PT Corgis in the main room, who when they saw him. They reacted by doing what William had called 'The PT Boat Shuffle', knowing what was about to happen next, he managed to set his small suitcase aside and get clear of the doorway just as the Corgis finished the shuffle. Which then they promptly tackled him to the ground and attempted to lick his face clean all at once. Needless to say, his face was slobbered and the Dogs that couldn't get his face got his neck instead. Needless to say, William was trying and failing to keep himself from laughing as wet noses and silky snouts tickled his face and neck.
"Okay okay! Stop, stop! I know y'all missed me but come on lemme up please! I have work to do you know." He said in between bouts of laughter he utterly failed to hold in. For a moment, he forgot all about the nightmare he had on the ride over to here, forgot there was a war on. For moment, he felt like a kid receiving the affection of a bunch of puppies. And then that moment passed as the PT Corgis relented and allowed him to get back up on his feet.
Taking a minute to retrieve his cover, which had been knocked off of his head when he was tackled, once he had his cover he then straightened out his NWU's. Once he was presentable again the Lieutenant gave each of the PT boats present head pats and ear scratches. "Alright boys so how was the guy that took my post when the squad and I got transferred over to Port Fourchon?" He asked the PT Corgis.
When he saw their ears drop drown, the happy energy they were showing just prior suddenly vanish, and watched their expressions change; some became sad looking, others agitated. One PT boat even had their teeth bared!
When Lieutenant William Wallace Corgi saw all this, the residual happiness he felt from the PT boat's greeting vanished like a puff of smoke in a hurricane. The smile on his face fell and was replaced by a deep furrowed frown.
"Okay, I want y'all to write a report of exactly what this LTJG has done with y'all since he took over this posting from me. I'll be in the Office to see what he's written up as far as reports go." William said with ice creeping into his voice before he took his suitcase and headed for the office.
William briefly greeted and questioned a Marine he saw poking their head out from one of the Support staff quarters. William learned that besides the LTJG he was the only other person who managed the PT boats, and that the Pfc's comment about doing most of the grunt work. It didn't put a good feeling in Corgi, not at all. He needed to get to the bottom of this and needed to do so soon.
Needless to say the Lieutenant was thoroughly unimpressed by the job his Replacement in the Big easy had done. It wasn't completely horrible, otherwise he was certain the LTJG would have been removed from his post well before this point, but it was just the bare minimum to keep operations moving forward.
"I don't fucking get it. How did this guy fuck things up like this? He only had to manage 16 goddamn PT boats!" Lieutenant Corgi said to no one in particular as he sat in the LTJG's office, which was originally his office before Admiral Raleigh had seen it fit two months ago to transfer him, his support staff, and the Majority of the PT Corgis that were originally stationed in New Orleans to Port Fourchon to keep a Light Quick Reaction Force much closer to the oil fields in the event a monster like the Atomic Battlecruiser Princess ever showed up again.
While William did have his doubts back then on just how effective PT boats would have been in a last ditch effort to stop a monster like that from busting the oil rigs in the fields. He did his marked best to carry out his orders to the best of his abilities with the help of his support staff, and he was reasonably confident to claim that he and his staff had done a good job at preparing the PT boats under his command for such a, nightmare scenario.
The replacement that took over his station here in New Orleans on the other hand, didn't do so well in comparison. Corgi read the reports his replacement had wrote, the PT boats were acting difficult, they kept getting into scuffles with the K-blimps, they kept sneaking off at night, chewed up chairs and doors, and myriad of other things that led to Lieutenant Corgi to come to one conclusion.
The man who had taken Corgi's position in New Orleans when he was transferred to Port Fourchon had almost completely, utterly, failed to read the document that Corgi had left for him that had details on how to effectively manage the PT Corgis. And William suspected that the LTJG who took his post in New Orleans had falsified some things in the reports he was reading right now, because the man's notes and reports didn't have the kind of things that would cause a PT Corgi to bare their teeth. Something was clearly at a miss here.
When he heard scratching at the door, he acted on reflex. "Enter." He said in a casual, but somewhat tense matter. When he still heard the scratching on the door and small whines, he was confused. Standing up from his desk William walked over to the door, and finally noticed that the dog door had been covered over with a bit of plywood. He was shocked for a full second and then, he felt his blood boil if only for a brief moment before he forced himself to regain his composure.
While tempering his anger he opened the door and allowed the PT Corgi to come in. The Fairy on the top of its head gave him a salute, while holding out a rather large stack of large postage stamp sized papers. William felt his heart and stomach sink at the sight of the reports. Doubly so when he took them back to the desk along with the PT Corgi, who he kept in his lap.
He read the incident reports the crews of the eight dogs had written up detailing the last 2 months. Things didn't seem bad at first and this he read slowly, but as he went on he started to read through them faster and faster as the situation detailed in them deteriorated. His disbelief and shock was quickly becoming anger at the LTJG's actions, he was angry. The neglect and sheer incompetence that his replacement had shown the PT Corgis was damn near straight up abuse. Hell he was sure that some of this would be legally defined abuse in some jurisdictions.
The only thing that kept his mounting anger from completely boiling over was when he read how the only Marine he saw in the Building treated the PT boats and what that marine was like according the PT Corgis. Hard working, doing an honest effort to give the dogs the Care and attention they needed in addition to his other duties, often pushing himself to near total exhaustion. His only real demerit was that he was described as a doormat regarding his Superior Officer. But William wouldn't hold the marine in contempt for that.
"Raphael Sandbar, so that's the name of the man I saw poking his head out of one of the support staff quarters earlier correct?" The Lieutenant asked the PT corgi in his lap, who looked up at him and gave a short cheery bark and a few wags of its tail. William rubbed the side of the dog's face with his free hand.
"I can clearly see from y'all that he's a good man here. I'll make sure he's not condemned by the report I'm going to write about this. I am not letting this shit stand, not at fucking all." Corgi said to the PT boat in a voice so low and filled with icy fury that the dog couldn't help but have a few fearful shivers go up its body, even though the PT boat wasn't even remotely the object of William's anger.
As dawn broke over New Orleans, Lieutenant Corgi got with Pfc Sandbar and the two of them went about doing the work that needed to be done. Topping off the Day Rotation's fuel reserves,
Setting out the Food for the returning night rotation in advance before they went helping the PT boats of the day rotation with their Rigging, After that it was finally time for them to meet the Returning night Rotation out on the docks.
William learned that Pfc Sandbar had read the entire Document he had left behind for the LTJG that was his replacement here in New Orleans. And Corgi could see that Sandbar had rather meticulously memorized the finer points of the Document. However though the Marine never had a chance to complete the quasi-ritual that was the rotation of the patrol.
For when the eight corgis of New Orleans' Night Patrol PT Boat Rotation saw Lieutenant Corgi standing on the docks with Pfc Sandbar. The dogs accelerated to flank speed and practically jumped the last ten feet of way to the floating dock.
Which their landing upon almost tossed both Corgi and Sandbar off the floating dock and into the water. Almost since Corgi recovered his Balance first and grabbed the back of Sandbar's MCCUU jacket to keep the Marine from falling face first into the water.
It was here where Sandbar witnessed the affection the PT Corgis held for the Navy Lieutenant and it wasn't till after they had given the Lieutenant an affectionate welcome that the PT Corgis of the night rotation sprinted off to the Barracks. The two of them then saw the Day rotation off before they began making their way back to the PT Barracks.
"W-wow Sir, I never realized that the PT Boats loved ya so much." Sandbar spoke with a sense of awe.
"Course they do Pfc Sandbar, I was the one that commanded all the PT Corgis here up until two months ago when me, my Team, and all but twelve of the PT Boats station in New Orleans got transferred over to Port Fourchon. I can see that a couple more of em got summoned since I last here." Corgi spoke with a degree of pride in his voice as they entered the PT Barracks.
Though once they were inside, Lieutenant Corgi turned and gave Sandbar a hard look, though it wasn't direct at Sandbar the Marine flinched regardless at the intensity of the look in the Lieutenant's Hazel Green eyes. "Private, Your Commanding Officer here, the incompetent dumbass who thought grabbing and moving an angry fucking blimpcat was a good idea. I will not mince words with you. I am going to report everything incompetent and neglectful thing this dumb Son of a Bitch has done. And I will see to it that he answers for his treatment of you, and the PT Corgis. I don't how this shit went on for this long without anyone noticing let alone doing something about it but I'm going to do something about it now. Do I make myself clear Private First Class Sandbar?"
Sandbar wouldn't have been lying if he admitted that he was terrified of the Lieutenant's statement, not due to the words themselves but the manner that they were delivered. Sandbar knew, like how every marine ought to, that the volume of the person chewing someone out was inversely proportional the rank they held. Even so, Sandbar was caught off guard by how quiet and deathly calm the Lieutenant had spoken to him in stark contrast to nigh-apocalyptic anger his eyes had.
It was like the like Corgi was a senior Flag Officer instead of being a mere Lieutenant. Was this what his friends on base meant when they had told him about The 'Admiral' of the PT boats? If so, he finally understood why his fellow Marines didn't dare attempt to get on Corgi's bad side when he was still stationed here. And then the Lieutenant sighed and placed a hand on Sandbar's shoulder.
"Listen, As much as I hate leaving you with managing the PT Corgis after all the crap the LTJG has put ya through, I need to sit down in the Officer and make a report about this mess so that it can get properly unfucked yesterday." William said in an earnest and somewhat apologetic manner to Sandbar.
"That's Fine Sir-"
"You can drop the Sir stuff for now Sandbar; just call me William or my middle name, Wallace for now alright? Because Right now, we're both just two men trying to do the right thing for these PT Boats."
"Yes Si- yes Wallace." Sandbar replied, catching himself from saying 'Sir' when the Lieutenant had told him to drop it for the time being. He was confused at the nearly 180 Wallace's personality had done, it took Sandbar a few moments to realize it, but the sudden change was because the Lieutenant was now directly speaking to him, instead of the situation at hand.
"Hey Wallace?"
"Yes Sandbar?"
"Are you going to chew out the LTJG when you're done writing your reports?" The Marine asked the Lieutenant, a hopeful glen in his eyes. There was silence for a moment, before the Lieutenant gave the Marine a down right evil smile.
"After I get the report from the night patrol compiled and the report on the LTJG's negligence and overall incompetence written up and sent up the chain. I will Sandbar, trust me I will. "
It wasn't until noon time that Lieutenant Corgi was able to finish writing up both the Night Rotation's report and his report on the LTJG's misconduct as the handler of New Orleans' PT boats. The later report taking far longer to write than the former but when he was done, William emailed both reports to the Admiral's Secretary with the later report flagged as being high priority.
Having a fair idea on how the Admiral would take the later report once it reached his desk, Corgi got up and out of the Office and into the rest of the PT Barracks. He noticed that the eight PT Corgis of the night patrol were fast asleep in a cuddle puddle.
Since he didn't see Pfc Sandbar anywhere, he assumed the marine headed off to the mess hall. Hearing a growl from his stomach, William realized he skipped out on breakfast entirely. He grabbed a dry-erase board and marker and wrote out a note for the PT Boats in case they woke up from their sleep before he or Sandbar returned.
While William was in a bit of rush to get something to eat before he'd go have a few words with the LTJG laid up in the infirmary, he didn't move faster than a moderately fast walk. He saw that there was some changes to the base, a few new buildings, but overall it wasn't drastically different to what he last remembered when was stationed here until two months ago.
He followed a group of Ensigns through the Mess Hall doors, grabbed a tray and got in line. Nobody seemed to have noticed him at first and he was fine with that, at least until he passed a group of Marine Lieutenants sitting at a table. One of whom got a good look at him, and promptly dropped the lasagna laden folk he was holding.
"Holy Hanna, that's Corgi, I knew someone had to fill in for the unfortunate bastard that got mauled by a blimpcat last night but I didn't think they'd bring the PT Boat Whisperer himself here." The marine said to his fellows while trying to not attract William's attention. This didn't work out too well since the Lieutenant shot a look over his shoulder at the marines before he got himself a plate of Lasagna and moved down the line.
After filling his tray with a sizable meal of Lasagna, a slice of Pizza, some garlic bread, and a small cup of gumbo. William looked around the room for a place to sit, his eyes wondered until he saw Pfc Sandbar sitting at a mostly empty table that had another marine, a Staff Sergeant from the looks of it, and an Ensign as the only other occupants.
Both they and Sandbar were surprised when William sat down at the table with them. "As you were gentlemen, don't mind me." William said to put the three of em at easy before he started to eat.
"So, Lieutenant, what's it like managing so many PT Boats?" The rather nervous sounding Ensign asked William as he was taking a bite out of his slice of pizza after finishing the last of the lasagna and gumbo. The Lieutenant chewed and swallowed the bite before answering the Ensign.
"Lots of work, especially since I don't have enough people in my Support Staff to allow members of it any significant time off even if I wanted to give it to them." William said in a blunt matter of fact manner. This made the ensign balk.
"But Sir isn't there like a bunch of Marines and Navy enlisted where you're normally stationed that you could have transferred to your unit to bolster your staff?" The Ensign said, for a moment unaware of the offense to the Lieutenant he had just done, well that was until William rounded on the junior officer with a hard steely gaze.
"Let me make one thing clear Ensign." Corgi's voice was even and matter of fact in tone, even perhaps friendly. However it brokered no argument.
"PT Corgis are far more of a challenge to handle than you and 92% of people realize. They are often more energetic than Destroyer Shipgirls are even if they don't quite have the same stamina. And they can cause a whole lotta chaos in short order if you don't teach them very clear rules or keep on top their activities like a hawk. Even then they still sometimes get themselves into trouble because of their dog instincts." The Lieutenant said in a somewhat tired tone.
The Ensign tried to speak but the Lieutenant silenced him with a glare before continuing. "Unlike Shipgirls who, who while being also ships, are also human. So they think and conduct themselves like people do most of the time. The PT boats way of thinking on the other hand takes more after the breed of dogs that their physical bodies take after. If Normal Corgis are considered to very independent and strong-willed, then the PT Corgis are even more so, and they are very intelligent. They understand every word you're saying, even if they can't speak like you and I."
"This means you need to be able to train them effectively to follow your rules. If you don't, they will form their own set of rules and then they'll try to train you to follow them. This also means you shouldn't speak ill of them in their presence. They may also become more stubborn than a damn Battleship if you don't give them the attention they need. And unlike normal Corgis, the PT Corgis are very capable of biting straight through an eighth of an inch of armor plate if they feel like they are threatened by someone they haven't yet come to know and trust, if they aren't an 0-5 or higher that is." William took a breath before he delivered the finisher.
"With all of this in mind, I need people who are either explicitly trained to handle and work with Military Dogs, or whom had a background of handling or training dogs before they came into the Military. That is the requirements needed to get into the unit I run, and there is exactly one way to get an exception to those requirements to get in." Corgi said a rather flat voice before waiting for the Ensign to digest the information and ask the question he was expecting the junior officer to ask him.
"W-what is that exception S-sir?" the Ensign stammered out. "Well that's rather simple Ensign, if the PT Corgis trust you right off the bat. If they trust you, I trust you, but it does also seem like the reverse is true as well." William said with a far more friendly voice than he using beforehand.
William finished demolishing the rest of the food on his tray in short order before he spoke again. "Gentlemen, I have a LTJG to go chew out for being almost completely incompetent with handling the PT Corgis and dumping it nearly all the responsibilities of managing them onto Pfc Sandbar." He said as he picked up his tray and went to put it away.
"Holy shit, the LTJG is getting torn apart in there." Pfc Sandbar said quietly as he, the Staff Sergeant and the Ensign he shared a table with, heard what was going on in the other room. Which while muffled, it was still loud enough through the closed door for the others to just be a foot from it to hear what was being said by Lieutenant Corgi.
"-JUST WHAT IN THE SAM HELL WERE YOU THINKING PICKING UP A K-TYPE BLIMPCAT? YOU ARE NOT AN AIRSHIP AND THAT CAT SURE AS HELL DIDN'T TRUST YOU!-"
"Now, I get why some of the other guys that'd been here for a while called The Lieutenant 'Captain Barker'" The Staff Sergeant quietly whispered to the other two as they listened in.
"-F I HAVE TO AIR MAIL YOUR ASS BACK TO THE NAVAL ACADEMY. SO HELP ME SECNAV I'LL SHIP YOU THERE WITH SAME DAY EXPRESS!"
"You'd think he was a marine with the mercilessness with which he's chewing Lieutenant Junior Grade Jackson with." The Ensign said, wide eyed but utterly transfixed with what he was listening to.
"Hey! What are you three doing by that door?" came the commanding tone of a voice from further down the hall. The three looked and realized it was another Navy Lieutenant. On reflex they came to attention before the Staff Sergeant answered the Lieutenant's question. "Sir, we were listening to Lieutenant Corgi chew out LTJG Jackson, Sir!"
At the mentioning of Corgi's name, the Lieutenant, who was now close enough for the three to see Gallow on the name tape, had a look of shock and disbelief on his face. "Wait, did you say Corgi? Like William 'Mad Dog' Corgi? Make some room, I gotta hear this." Lieutenant Gallow said as he joined the three in listening to what was going on in the other room.
"I DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU LTJG JACKSON, BUT I SURE AS FUCK DON'T WANT MY GODDAMN NAME IMMORTALIZED IN HISTORY AS BEING THE FIRST PERSON TO HAVE DIED BY AN ANGRY FLOATING CAT! WHEN AD-"
"Oohh yeah, that's 'Mad Dog' Corgi alright. I knew Jackson got mauled by a blimpcat for grabbing it and attempting to remove it from the presence of one of the PT Boats. But if Corgi is yelling at him like this? He must've found something the LTJG was hiding that pushed his buttons." Lieutenant Gallow said with a slight grimace at hearing the verbal carnage that was going on in the other room.
"Is Lieutenant Corgi always like this Sir?" Pfc Sandbar asked Lieutenant Gallow. Who shook his head side to side. "No son, he isn't always like this. He's best known for being pretty damn hard to get angry actually. Only the completely idiotic or the negligently incompetent can get him this angry. Judging by the way he's yelling at Jackson; seems like Jackson was a bit of both."
"Then why did yo-" Sandbar started to say before Gallow cut him off with a look. "I and a Few others call him 'Mad Dog' for what he did during Blood week when his ship got attacked." Gallow said before he gave a sigh, seeing the question the marine was about to ask him, Gallow beat him to it.
"Listen, I know the story of what happened then, but it isn't mine to tell. You want to know it? You have to ask him about it yourself Private." Lieutenant Gallow said in a voice that had no room for Argument. Pfc Sandbar only gave a hasty nod in reply.
It was then that it dawned on the four men that the yelling had stopped and footsteps were approaching the door. Pfc Sandbar, the Staff Sergeant and the Ensign all backed away from the Door and attempted rather badly at that, to not look like they were eavesdropping in on Corgi's Chew out of the LTJG. Lieutenant Gallow on the other hand only moved to the side of the door so he wouldn't block it.
As Corgi opened the Door and walked out of the room, he noticed and recognized Gallow. "Dominic my old friend! It's good to see you again." William said in a happy tone as he shook the others hand. "Same here William. How has Port Fourchon treated you?" The other Lieutenant asked his friend.
"Ah you know Dominic, the usual, whole lotta PT Corgis, not enough support staff to easily manage em. Everyone including me are running double shifts, and generally helping one another to the best of our abilities." William said in a devil-may-care manner. "Ah yeah I figured as much, but ya glad that you don't have to worry about Destroyers spoiling the dogs rotten?"
"Damn right I do Dominic, their hearts are in the right place but spoiled PT boats just makes prone to misbehaving and stealing all the Peanut butter." Corgi said with a small laugh. "Well Dominic, it's been great but I gotta cut it short for right now. I've gotta make preparations for the returning Day Patrol." William said to the other before he went to walk away.
It was then that he noticed the other three. "As you were gentlemen." He said in a voice that didn't betray anything, but the smile on his face. A 'smug dog' kind of smile that said that he knew that the three of them heard him chew out the LTJG. As Lieutenant Corgi walked past the group of three, he paused and turned his head towards Sandbar.
"Pfc Sandbar, I'll go make sure things are ready for the changing of the Patrol Rotation in a few hours. Your job is going to be to sortie the Night rotation. Once you're back from that with the returned day rotation, your orders will be to then take the rest of the evening off. After everything, you've earned at least that much and much more. Do I make myself clear private?" William spoke in a voice that while friendly, made it exceptionally clear that the only answer he'd accept from Sandbar was a 'yes sir'.
"Sir, Yes Sir." was Pfc Sandbar's immediate response. "Excellent, carry on as you were." William said before walking off.
It had been a rather long day, but now with the day rotation back and fed and the night rotation sortied by Sandbar. The post patrol reports from the day rotation were compiled into an overall daily report and send up the chain of command, along with a few requests to supply for items like rawhide bones, tennis balls and other dog toys for the PT boats. The two men sat in adjacent couches in the main room of the PT Boat Barracks.
"Lieutenant, do you want to get something at the mess hall sir? Its 20:11 and tonight's dinner is fish Tacos." Pfc Sandbar asked Corgi, while rubbing the head of one of the PT Boats that lay across his lap. Corgi just shook his head, his eyes holding an exhausted look to them.
"I'll pass Sandbar, but you go ahead and get yourself some chow, okay?" William said as the building exhaustion from the day was now finally catching up to him. Sandbar nodded and went to get up; the PT Corgi in the Pfc's lap jumped off and walked over to the couch William was on.
The marine looked back at the Lieutenant when he got to the door of the Barracks; all the dogs were gathered around William, who noticed Sandbar's look and waved him on. Once the marine had left the building, William let a tired sigh pass his lips as he looked up at the ceiling of the building.
"Everyone worrying about me like this makes me feel old. I'm not that old, 35 isn't that old now. Yet I'm making people worry about me like I'm at least twice that age and doing the work I do. Does that make me a shitty leader?" William said to the eight PT boats that were gathered around him. The dogs looked him as he brought his gaze down to them and they gave him either side-to-side shakes of their heads or two short barks. The responses made a smile crack across the Lieutenant's tired features.
"Thanks. I appreciate the vote of confidence boys." Corgi said to the PT boats. Who wagged their tails and smiled at the praise. "And I'll be damn sure, to personally vet whoever Admiral Raleigh sends to take over this post. So something like this mess with the LTJG...doesn't happen again." The comment made the PT boats whine a bit.
"You stop that, you know I can't stay here boys, I've got a lot more PT boats back in Port Fourchon who're waiting for me to return. Clayton is a good man, but he can only cover for my job for so long. We might be getting a pair of ensigns added to the unit in two days. But you he can't show em the ropes, cover his duties and my duties all at once." William said before another yawn escaped his lips, his eyelids felt heavy so he just closed them for a bit.
"Unless...Raleigh decided to bring Dog Squad and all those PT boat Squadrons back to New Orleans... but I don't think he'll do something like...that." William mumbled out as he nodded off into a deep sleep. The PT boats looked at the sleeping Lieutenant, and they knew that he'd have one badly sore neck if he was allowed to remain sleeping like that.
With a series of nudges and pushes with their noses as well as light pulling and tugging on the Lieutenant's NWU's with their mouths; being careful to not leave more than a slobber mark on the uniform. The eight PT Corgis of New Orleans' daytime patrol rotation carefully moved Lieutenant William Corgi into a more comfortable position lying down on the couch. One of the dogs had managed to nudge one of the couch pillows under the LT's head.
With their beloved commander now comfortably position on the rather comfortable couch and already sleeping, the PT Corgis gathered around him in a cuddle puddle. Leaving a very memorable sight for Private First Class Raphael Sandbar to see when he returned to the PT Boat barracks after dinner. As for William, his dreams were quiet and pleasant for the remainder of the night.
Omake: An Officer and his Dogs; where blimpcats are the bane of the LT's life
[=]
"God dammit. God fucking dammit. I fucking knew it. I knew some other shoe was gonna drop! I just knew it was gonna happen. I never have any good luck!" Lieutenant Corgi fumed as he looked at his email on his smartphone. He made no attempt to keep quiet or suppress the borderline-furious tone of his voice as he flipped on his room's light and pulled a small suitcase out of the closet.
His phone had gone off at some point during the night but he hadn't been woken by it. The PT Corgi that was watching over him during the night on the other hand had heard it and recognized it had to be important.
Of course though, because the normal pawing and whining hadn't succeeded in waking the Lieutenant, the PT Corgi had to use drastic measures to wake him up.
Which involved pulling out his dresser drawers to climb up to the top of the piece of furniture before jumping off it and onto his chest. At least that was what the Fairies told him after the PT boat had woken him up. At two thirty in the morning, almost a full two hours before he was supposed to be up.
"I knew I was gonna regret letting Pfc Ellen watch Garfield in the PT Barracks." Lieutenant Corgi muttered to himself as he got a day bag packed. He figured them seeing that movie was the only way the Corgis could have known that particular trick.
Of course though, the commotion in the middle of the night had woken Gunnery Sergeant Clayton and the rest of the PT boat support staff. Though only the Gunny dared to open the door to the Lieutenant's room to investigate.
"William what the hell is going on?" Clayton asked his friend in a rather concerned manner as he noticed the pulled out dresser drawers, Corgi packing a suitcase while simultaneously trying his dammed best to hate his phone out of existence.
"Jim, You Remember that Lieutenant Junior Grade that came in to take over my post in New Orleans when our unit and most of the PT Corgis got transferred here two months ago?" William asked his friend as he finished packing his suitcase.
"Yeah... Aww hell what happened to him?" Clayton said as realization dawned on him.
"Well, He's laid up in the infirmary right now. I don't know the details just yet, but what I do know is that the LTJG tried to break up a scuffle between one of the PT Corgis and a fucking blimpcat by grabbing the cat and trying to move it away from the PT Corgi. It goes without saying; the LTJG got savaged by the K-blimp." William said with gritted teeth.
[=]
Lieutenant Corgi hated using the radio set in the corner of the PT Barracks to contact the PT boats that were out on patrol. In fact he despised using the radio set for a few reasons, some were practical like the need to maintain radio silence, some though were very personal to him.
Yet he had no other choice but to contact the Corgis that'd certainly be on their way back from their night patrols. And inform them of the situation. The PT Corgis ... didn't take it too well if he or really any of the support staff were suddenly absent without advance notice. Corgi reasoned it was either because of the pack-like nature the PT boats had in their original lives or the fact that they had returned in the present day as dogs. Either way, if he didn't radio in to them about the situation, then they'd probably end up upturning the ad-hoc base over in an attempt to find him.
As his hands picked up the headset, he felt a twinge in his left side. As he placed the headset on, two things struck him at once. One was an old Familiarity, the cozy comfort of memories from happier times. However accompanying that was a wave of phantom pain.
It was transient, there for no more than a split second, but the pain seared and rippled across the lower third of his back with raw intensity. In the pain's wake, came a flood of memories fountaining into the forefront of his mind like water from a five inch hole below a ship's waterline.
Lieutenant Corgi remained steadfast as he wrestled the flood of sights, sounds, smells, feelings, thoughts and sensations from that dark day back then under control once more. It took only a few moments at most for him to finish that task. The only sign of his brief inner struggle visible to the outside was a brief white-knuckle clenching of his right hand. The Lieutenant keyed the microphone on with a heavy sigh.
"Knight Dogs, Knight Dogs. This is Dog-Actual. Priority situation happened at Kennel House, Devil dog-actual will act in my place until the situation at Kennel house has been resolved. How copy?" William said tersely and quickly, naturally he said the message in code so its true meaning couldn't be understood by those who didn't already know its meaning. At least that was his hopes.
He couldn't put faith into his radio being incapable of having its signals intercepted by Abyssal forces. So despite his disdain for using the radio set when the dogs were deployed, he made sure that the dogs, his staff and other friendly units understood the meaning of his coded transmissions. Even if his particular method of coding messages did nothing to abate the dog related nicknames the enlisted and his fellow officers gave him and by extension, the unit he lead.
When Corgi heard four quick barks from the other end of the line, he knew the dogs had received and understood his message. "Solid Copy Knight Dogs, Dog-Actual out." Corgi spoke as with another sigh as he took the headset off and then switched the unit to receive only.
[=]
If there was one thing that Corgi was glad for, it was that there was already a transport truck that had been ready to deliver aviation fuel to New Orleans, the matter was a simple one of having him hitch a ride in the Cab for the little over hour and half drive to New Orleans. The seat wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world and the road wasn't in the best condition either.Yet despite this, Lieutenant Corgi found himself drifting asleep. But he'd find no restfulness in his slumber, only memories and nightmares awaited him.
His world was darkness.
He couldn't find any light, no matter how hard he tried; he couldn't even see his own hands in front of his face. Sound itself seemly ceased just mere inches outside the confines of his body. Leaving his own rapid fire breathing and terrified heartbeat as the only things he could hear.
And then the world came back to him slowly, the lapping of waves against steel, the groaning of metal under stress... the Screams of the wounded, the dying, those who were maliciously being plucked out of the water by some kind of monstrosity. But all these sounded were muted, muffled by a nigh-all consuming, agonizing ringing in his ears. He suddenly felt himself knocked down to the ground, the right side of his face smacking into something hard and unyielding in the seemingly never ending darkness.
He opened his eyes and realized he could see things other than endless darkness, but he couldn't focus on anything, his world was a blur of colors, his head spun and his limbs felt like they were made of lead dust and wet concrete. He saw a vague mass of black moving along in the distance, slowly closing in...
"-utenant! Lieutenant! Are you alright, Sir?" came the concerned if a bit distant voice of a Marine. A Marine that William realized was the driver of the truck. With desperation like a shipwrecked sailor clinging to flotsam amidst a storm, William jumped up off the deck he was on towards the voice to escape his nightmare.
[=]
Lieutenant Corgi awoke from his nightmare with a hard jolt, jumping up in his seat like his body was a heavy spring that was under a load that suddenly got removed. His seat belt biting into his shoulder as the sudden motion tripped the safety belt arrestor and kept him from banging his head against the cab's ceiling. His Hazel green eyes were wide and madly searching the Cabin for a few transient moments before reality caught up with him.
"What the hell were you murmuring on about in your sleep sir?" The driver asked with a considerable amount of concern in his voice, his head turned as much as he could toward William while still keeping eyes on the road.
"Uh-what? Are we there yet marine?" He asked his Marine driver while rubbing his face with one hand; it was a rushed attempt at changing the subject and deflecting the question. The driver for his part only gave him a nod before answering him, seeing no point in trying to get the LT to answer his original question he turned his head back to facing completely forward. "Yes sir, we just entered New Orleans proper, we'll be at the operations base in about 15."
"Good, good." Corgi said to the marine as his heart rate and breathing finally came back under control. The slight tremor in his hand from the spike of adrenaline that had coursed through his veins until moments ago was concealed by a prolonged check of his wrist watch. It was almost 0415.
He glanced out the window and saw the streets that were illuminated by dim street lights. The light themselves felt dimmer than there were and the shadows cast by them felt deeper and more sinister than they had right to be. Lieutenant Corgi didn't try to sleep for the extra 15 minutes. He wouldn't dare it.
[=]
It didn't take long for Lieutenant Corgi to find the command building and report in for his summons. It took an even shorter amount of time for him to get to the PT Barracks since he still remembered the route to that part of the base from the Headquarters building.
When he entered the building, William saw eight PT Corgis in the main room, who when they saw him. They reacted by doing what William had called 'The PT Boat Shuffle', knowing what was about to happen next, he managed to set his small suitcase aside and get clear of the doorway just as the Corgis finished the shuffle. Which then they promptly tackled him to the ground and attempted to lick his face clean all at once. Needless to say, his face was slobbered and the Dogs that couldn't get his face got his neck instead. Needless to say, William was trying and failing to keep himself from laughing as wet noses and silky snouts tickled his face and neck.
"Okay okay! Stop, stop! I know y'all missed me but come on lemme up please! I have work to do you know." He said in between bouts of laughter he utterly failed to hold in. For a moment, he forgot all about the nightmare he had on the ride over to here, forgot there was a war on. For moment, he felt like a kid receiving the affection of a bunch of puppies. And then that moment passed as the PT Corgis relented and allowed him to get back up on his feet.
Taking a minute to retrieve his cover, which had been knocked off of his head when he was tackled, once he had his cover he then straightened out his NWU's. Once he was presentable again the Lieutenant gave each of the PT boats present head pats and ear scratches. "Alright boys so how was the guy that took my post when the squad and I got transferred over to Port Fourchon?" He asked the PT Corgis.
When he saw their ears drop drown, the happy energy they were showing just prior suddenly vanish, and watched their expressions change; some became sad looking, others agitated. One PT boat even had their teeth bared!
When Lieutenant William Wallace Corgi saw all this, the residual happiness he felt from the PT boat's greeting vanished like a puff of smoke in a hurricane. The smile on his face fell and was replaced by a deep furrowed frown.
"Okay, I want y'all to write a report of exactly what this LTJG has done with y'all since he took over this posting from me. I'll be in the Office to see what he's written up as far as reports go." William said with ice creeping into his voice before he took his suitcase and headed for the office.
William briefly greeted and questioned a Marine he saw poking their head out from one of the Support staff quarters. William learned that besides the LTJG he was the only other person who managed the PT boats, and that the Pfc's comment about doing most of the grunt work. It didn't put a good feeling in Corgi, not at all. He needed to get to the bottom of this and needed to do so soon.
[=]
Needless to say the Lieutenant was thoroughly unimpressed by the job his Replacement in the Big easy had done. It wasn't completely horrible, otherwise he was certain the LTJG would have been removed from his post well before this point, but it was just the bare minimum to keep operations moving forward.
"I don't fucking get it. How did this guy fuck things up like this? He only had to manage 16 goddamn PT boats!" Lieutenant Corgi said to no one in particular as he sat in the LTJG's office, which was originally his office before Admiral Raleigh had seen it fit two months ago to transfer him, his support staff, and the Majority of the PT Corgis that were originally stationed in New Orleans to Port Fourchon to keep a Light Quick Reaction Force much closer to the oil fields in the event a monster like the Atomic Battlecruiser Princess ever showed up again.
While William did have his doubts back then on just how effective PT boats would have been in a last ditch effort to stop a monster like that from busting the oil rigs in the fields. He did his marked best to carry out his orders to the best of his abilities with the help of his support staff, and he was reasonably confident to claim that he and his staff had done a good job at preparing the PT boats under his command for such a, nightmare scenario.
The replacement that took over his station here in New Orleans on the other hand, didn't do so well in comparison. Corgi read the reports his replacement had wrote, the PT boats were acting difficult, they kept getting into scuffles with the K-blimps, they kept sneaking off at night, chewed up chairs and doors, and myriad of other things that led to Lieutenant Corgi to come to one conclusion.
The man who had taken Corgi's position in New Orleans when he was transferred to Port Fourchon had almost completely, utterly, failed to read the document that Corgi had left for him that had details on how to effectively manage the PT Corgis. And William suspected that the LTJG who took his post in New Orleans had falsified some things in the reports he was reading right now, because the man's notes and reports didn't have the kind of things that would cause a PT Corgi to bare their teeth. Something was clearly at a miss here.
When he heard scratching at the door, he acted on reflex. "Enter." He said in a casual, but somewhat tense matter. When he still heard the scratching on the door and small whines, he was confused. Standing up from his desk William walked over to the door, and finally noticed that the dog door had been covered over with a bit of plywood. He was shocked for a full second and then, he felt his blood boil if only for a brief moment before he forced himself to regain his composure.
While tempering his anger he opened the door and allowed the PT Corgi to come in. The Fairy on the top of its head gave him a salute, while holding out a rather large stack of large postage stamp sized papers. William felt his heart and stomach sink at the sight of the reports. Doubly so when he took them back to the desk along with the PT Corgi, who he kept in his lap.
He read the incident reports the crews of the eight dogs had written up detailing the last 2 months. Things didn't seem bad at first and this he read slowly, but as he went on he started to read through them faster and faster as the situation detailed in them deteriorated. His disbelief and shock was quickly becoming anger at the LTJG's actions, he was angry. The neglect and sheer incompetence that his replacement had shown the PT Corgis was damn near straight up abuse. Hell he was sure that some of this would be legally defined abuse in some jurisdictions.
The only thing that kept his mounting anger from completely boiling over was when he read how the only Marine he saw in the Building treated the PT boats and what that marine was like according the PT Corgis. Hard working, doing an honest effort to give the dogs the Care and attention they needed in addition to his other duties, often pushing himself to near total exhaustion. His only real demerit was that he was described as a doormat regarding his Superior Officer. But William wouldn't hold the marine in contempt for that.
"Raphael Sandbar, so that's the name of the man I saw poking his head out of one of the support staff quarters earlier correct?" The Lieutenant asked the PT corgi in his lap, who looked up at him and gave a short cheery bark and a few wags of its tail. William rubbed the side of the dog's face with his free hand.
"I can clearly see from y'all that he's a good man here. I'll make sure he's not condemned by the report I'm going to write about this. I am not letting this shit stand, not at fucking all." Corgi said to the PT boat in a voice so low and filled with icy fury that the dog couldn't help but have a few fearful shivers go up its body, even though the PT boat wasn't even remotely the object of William's anger.
[=]
As dawn broke over New Orleans, Lieutenant Corgi got with Pfc Sandbar and the two of them went about doing the work that needed to be done. Topping off the Day Rotation's fuel reserves,
Setting out the Food for the returning night rotation in advance before they went helping the PT boats of the day rotation with their Rigging, After that it was finally time for them to meet the Returning night Rotation out on the docks.
William learned that Pfc Sandbar had read the entire Document he had left behind for the LTJG that was his replacement here in New Orleans. And Corgi could see that Sandbar had rather meticulously memorized the finer points of the Document. However though the Marine never had a chance to complete the quasi-ritual that was the rotation of the patrol.
For when the eight corgis of New Orleans' Night Patrol PT Boat Rotation saw Lieutenant Corgi standing on the docks with Pfc Sandbar. The dogs accelerated to flank speed and practically jumped the last ten feet of way to the floating dock.
Which their landing upon almost tossed both Corgi and Sandbar off the floating dock and into the water. Almost since Corgi recovered his Balance first and grabbed the back of Sandbar's MCCUU jacket to keep the Marine from falling face first into the water.
It was here where Sandbar witnessed the affection the PT Corgis held for the Navy Lieutenant and it wasn't till after they had given the Lieutenant an affectionate welcome that the PT Corgis of the night rotation sprinted off to the Barracks. The two of them then saw the Day rotation off before they began making their way back to the PT Barracks.
"W-wow Sir, I never realized that the PT Boats loved ya so much." Sandbar spoke with a sense of awe.
"Course they do Pfc Sandbar, I was the one that commanded all the PT Corgis here up until two months ago when me, my Team, and all but twelve of the PT Boats station in New Orleans got transferred over to Port Fourchon. I can see that a couple more of em got summoned since I last here." Corgi spoke with a degree of pride in his voice as they entered the PT Barracks.
Though once they were inside, Lieutenant Corgi turned and gave Sandbar a hard look, though it wasn't direct at Sandbar the Marine flinched regardless at the intensity of the look in the Lieutenant's Hazel Green eyes. "Private, Your Commanding Officer here, the incompetent dumbass who thought grabbing and moving an angry fucking blimpcat was a good idea. I will not mince words with you. I am going to report everything incompetent and neglectful thing this dumb Son of a Bitch has done. And I will see to it that he answers for his treatment of you, and the PT Corgis. I don't how this shit went on for this long without anyone noticing let alone doing something about it but I'm going to do something about it now. Do I make myself clear Private First Class Sandbar?"
Sandbar wouldn't have been lying if he admitted that he was terrified of the Lieutenant's statement, not due to the words themselves but the manner that they were delivered. Sandbar knew, like how every marine ought to, that the volume of the person chewing someone out was inversely proportional the rank they held. Even so, Sandbar was caught off guard by how quiet and deathly calm the Lieutenant had spoken to him in stark contrast to nigh-apocalyptic anger his eyes had.
It was like the like Corgi was a senior Flag Officer instead of being a mere Lieutenant. Was this what his friends on base meant when they had told him about The 'Admiral' of the PT boats? If so, he finally understood why his fellow Marines didn't dare attempt to get on Corgi's bad side when he was still stationed here. And then the Lieutenant sighed and placed a hand on Sandbar's shoulder.
"Listen, As much as I hate leaving you with managing the PT Corgis after all the crap the LTJG has put ya through, I need to sit down in the Officer and make a report about this mess so that it can get properly unfucked yesterday." William said in an earnest and somewhat apologetic manner to Sandbar.
"That's Fine Sir-"
"You can drop the Sir stuff for now Sandbar; just call me William or my middle name, Wallace for now alright? Because Right now, we're both just two men trying to do the right thing for these PT Boats."
"Yes Si- yes Wallace." Sandbar replied, catching himself from saying 'Sir' when the Lieutenant had told him to drop it for the time being. He was confused at the nearly 180 Wallace's personality had done, it took Sandbar a few moments to realize it, but the sudden change was because the Lieutenant was now directly speaking to him, instead of the situation at hand.
"Hey Wallace?"
"Yes Sandbar?"
"Are you going to chew out the LTJG when you're done writing your reports?" The Marine asked the Lieutenant, a hopeful glen in his eyes. There was silence for a moment, before the Lieutenant gave the Marine a down right evil smile.
"After I get the report from the night patrol compiled and the report on the LTJG's negligence and overall incompetence written up and sent up the chain. I will Sandbar, trust me I will. "
[=]
It wasn't until noon time that Lieutenant Corgi was able to finish writing up both the Night Rotation's report and his report on the LTJG's misconduct as the handler of New Orleans' PT boats. The later report taking far longer to write than the former but when he was done, William emailed both reports to the Admiral's Secretary with the later report flagged as being high priority.
Having a fair idea on how the Admiral would take the later report once it reached his desk, Corgi got up and out of the Office and into the rest of the PT Barracks. He noticed that the eight PT Corgis of the night patrol were fast asleep in a cuddle puddle.
Since he didn't see Pfc Sandbar anywhere, he assumed the marine headed off to the mess hall. Hearing a growl from his stomach, William realized he skipped out on breakfast entirely. He grabbed a dry-erase board and marker and wrote out a note for the PT Boats in case they woke up from their sleep before he or Sandbar returned.
While William was in a bit of rush to get something to eat before he'd go have a few words with the LTJG laid up in the infirmary, he didn't move faster than a moderately fast walk. He saw that there was some changes to the base, a few new buildings, but overall it wasn't drastically different to what he last remembered when was stationed here until two months ago.
He followed a group of Ensigns through the Mess Hall doors, grabbed a tray and got in line. Nobody seemed to have noticed him at first and he was fine with that, at least until he passed a group of Marine Lieutenants sitting at a table. One of whom got a good look at him, and promptly dropped the lasagna laden folk he was holding.
"Holy Hanna, that's Corgi, I knew someone had to fill in for the unfortunate bastard that got mauled by a blimpcat last night but I didn't think they'd bring the PT Boat Whisperer himself here." The marine said to his fellows while trying to not attract William's attention. This didn't work out too well since the Lieutenant shot a look over his shoulder at the marines before he got himself a plate of Lasagna and moved down the line.
After filling his tray with a sizable meal of Lasagna, a slice of Pizza, some garlic bread, and a small cup of gumbo. William looked around the room for a place to sit, his eyes wondered until he saw Pfc Sandbar sitting at a mostly empty table that had another marine, a Staff Sergeant from the looks of it, and an Ensign as the only other occupants.
Both they and Sandbar were surprised when William sat down at the table with them. "As you were gentlemen, don't mind me." William said to put the three of em at easy before he started to eat.
"So, Lieutenant, what's it like managing so many PT Boats?" The rather nervous sounding Ensign asked William as he was taking a bite out of his slice of pizza after finishing the last of the lasagna and gumbo. The Lieutenant chewed and swallowed the bite before answering the Ensign.
"Lots of work, especially since I don't have enough people in my Support Staff to allow members of it any significant time off even if I wanted to give it to them." William said in a blunt matter of fact manner. This made the ensign balk.
"But Sir isn't there like a bunch of Marines and Navy enlisted where you're normally stationed that you could have transferred to your unit to bolster your staff?" The Ensign said, for a moment unaware of the offense to the Lieutenant he had just done, well that was until William rounded on the junior officer with a hard steely gaze.
"Let me make one thing clear Ensign." Corgi's voice was even and matter of fact in tone, even perhaps friendly. However it brokered no argument.
"PT Corgis are far more of a challenge to handle than you and 92% of people realize. They are often more energetic than Destroyer Shipgirls are even if they don't quite have the same stamina. And they can cause a whole lotta chaos in short order if you don't teach them very clear rules or keep on top their activities like a hawk. Even then they still sometimes get themselves into trouble because of their dog instincts." The Lieutenant said in a somewhat tired tone.
The Ensign tried to speak but the Lieutenant silenced him with a glare before continuing. "Unlike Shipgirls who, who while being also ships, are also human. So they think and conduct themselves like people do most of the time. The PT boats way of thinking on the other hand takes more after the breed of dogs that their physical bodies take after. If Normal Corgis are considered to very independent and strong-willed, then the PT Corgis are even more so, and they are very intelligent. They understand every word you're saying, even if they can't speak like you and I."
"This means you need to be able to train them effectively to follow your rules. If you don't, they will form their own set of rules and then they'll try to train you to follow them. This also means you shouldn't speak ill of them in their presence. They may also become more stubborn than a damn Battleship if you don't give them the attention they need. And unlike normal Corgis, the PT Corgis are very capable of biting straight through an eighth of an inch of armor plate if they feel like they are threatened by someone they haven't yet come to know and trust, if they aren't an 0-5 or higher that is." William took a breath before he delivered the finisher.
"With all of this in mind, I need people who are either explicitly trained to handle and work with Military Dogs, or whom had a background of handling or training dogs before they came into the Military. That is the requirements needed to get into the unit I run, and there is exactly one way to get an exception to those requirements to get in." Corgi said a rather flat voice before waiting for the Ensign to digest the information and ask the question he was expecting the junior officer to ask him.
"W-what is that exception S-sir?" the Ensign stammered out. "Well that's rather simple Ensign, if the PT Corgis trust you right off the bat. If they trust you, I trust you, but it does also seem like the reverse is true as well." William said with a far more friendly voice than he using beforehand.
William finished demolishing the rest of the food on his tray in short order before he spoke again. "Gentlemen, I have a LTJG to go chew out for being almost completely incompetent with handling the PT Corgis and dumping it nearly all the responsibilities of managing them onto Pfc Sandbar." He said as he picked up his tray and went to put it away.
[=]
"Holy shit, the LTJG is getting torn apart in there." Pfc Sandbar said quietly as he, the Staff Sergeant and the Ensign he shared a table with, heard what was going on in the other room. Which while muffled, it was still loud enough through the closed door for the others to just be a foot from it to hear what was being said by Lieutenant Corgi.
"-JUST WHAT IN THE SAM HELL WERE YOU THINKING PICKING UP A K-TYPE BLIMPCAT? YOU ARE NOT AN AIRSHIP AND THAT CAT SURE AS HELL DIDN'T TRUST YOU!-"
"Now, I get why some of the other guys that'd been here for a while called The Lieutenant 'Captain Barker'" The Staff Sergeant quietly whispered to the other two as they listened in.
"-F I HAVE TO AIR MAIL YOUR ASS BACK TO THE NAVAL ACADEMY. SO HELP ME SECNAV I'LL SHIP YOU THERE WITH SAME DAY EXPRESS!"
"You'd think he was a marine with the mercilessness with which he's chewing Lieutenant Junior Grade Jackson with." The Ensign said, wide eyed but utterly transfixed with what he was listening to.
"Hey! What are you three doing by that door?" came the commanding tone of a voice from further down the hall. The three looked and realized it was another Navy Lieutenant. On reflex they came to attention before the Staff Sergeant answered the Lieutenant's question. "Sir, we were listening to Lieutenant Corgi chew out LTJG Jackson, Sir!"
At the mentioning of Corgi's name, the Lieutenant, who was now close enough for the three to see Gallow on the name tape, had a look of shock and disbelief on his face. "Wait, did you say Corgi? Like William 'Mad Dog' Corgi? Make some room, I gotta hear this." Lieutenant Gallow said as he joined the three in listening to what was going on in the other room.
"I DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU LTJG JACKSON, BUT I SURE AS FUCK DON'T WANT MY GODDAMN NAME IMMORTALIZED IN HISTORY AS BEING THE FIRST PERSON TO HAVE DIED BY AN ANGRY FLOATING CAT! WHEN AD-"
"Oohh yeah, that's 'Mad Dog' Corgi alright. I knew Jackson got mauled by a blimpcat for grabbing it and attempting to remove it from the presence of one of the PT Boats. But if Corgi is yelling at him like this? He must've found something the LTJG was hiding that pushed his buttons." Lieutenant Gallow said with a slight grimace at hearing the verbal carnage that was going on in the other room.
"Is Lieutenant Corgi always like this Sir?" Pfc Sandbar asked Lieutenant Gallow. Who shook his head side to side. "No son, he isn't always like this. He's best known for being pretty damn hard to get angry actually. Only the completely idiotic or the negligently incompetent can get him this angry. Judging by the way he's yelling at Jackson; seems like Jackson was a bit of both."
"Then why did yo-" Sandbar started to say before Gallow cut him off with a look. "I and a Few others call him 'Mad Dog' for what he did during Blood week when his ship got attacked." Gallow said before he gave a sigh, seeing the question the marine was about to ask him, Gallow beat him to it.
"Listen, I know the story of what happened then, but it isn't mine to tell. You want to know it? You have to ask him about it yourself Private." Lieutenant Gallow said in a voice that had no room for Argument. Pfc Sandbar only gave a hasty nod in reply.
It was then that it dawned on the four men that the yelling had stopped and footsteps were approaching the door. Pfc Sandbar, the Staff Sergeant and the Ensign all backed away from the Door and attempted rather badly at that, to not look like they were eavesdropping in on Corgi's Chew out of the LTJG. Lieutenant Gallow on the other hand only moved to the side of the door so he wouldn't block it.
As Corgi opened the Door and walked out of the room, he noticed and recognized Gallow. "Dominic my old friend! It's good to see you again." William said in a happy tone as he shook the others hand. "Same here William. How has Port Fourchon treated you?" The other Lieutenant asked his friend.
"Ah you know Dominic, the usual, whole lotta PT Corgis, not enough support staff to easily manage em. Everyone including me are running double shifts, and generally helping one another to the best of our abilities." William said in a devil-may-care manner. "Ah yeah I figured as much, but ya glad that you don't have to worry about Destroyers spoiling the dogs rotten?"
"Damn right I do Dominic, their hearts are in the right place but spoiled PT boats just makes prone to misbehaving and stealing all the Peanut butter." Corgi said with a small laugh. "Well Dominic, it's been great but I gotta cut it short for right now. I've gotta make preparations for the returning Day Patrol." William said to the other before he went to walk away.
It was then that he noticed the other three. "As you were gentlemen." He said in a voice that didn't betray anything, but the smile on his face. A 'smug dog' kind of smile that said that he knew that the three of them heard him chew out the LTJG. As Lieutenant Corgi walked past the group of three, he paused and turned his head towards Sandbar.
"Pfc Sandbar, I'll go make sure things are ready for the changing of the Patrol Rotation in a few hours. Your job is going to be to sortie the Night rotation. Once you're back from that with the returned day rotation, your orders will be to then take the rest of the evening off. After everything, you've earned at least that much and much more. Do I make myself clear private?" William spoke in a voice that while friendly, made it exceptionally clear that the only answer he'd accept from Sandbar was a 'yes sir'.
"Sir, Yes Sir." was Pfc Sandbar's immediate response. "Excellent, carry on as you were." William said before walking off.
[=]
It had been a rather long day, but now with the day rotation back and fed and the night rotation sortied by Sandbar. The post patrol reports from the day rotation were compiled into an overall daily report and send up the chain of command, along with a few requests to supply for items like rawhide bones, tennis balls and other dog toys for the PT boats. The two men sat in adjacent couches in the main room of the PT Boat Barracks.
"Lieutenant, do you want to get something at the mess hall sir? Its 20:11 and tonight's dinner is fish Tacos." Pfc Sandbar asked Corgi, while rubbing the head of one of the PT Boats that lay across his lap. Corgi just shook his head, his eyes holding an exhausted look to them.
"I'll pass Sandbar, but you go ahead and get yourself some chow, okay?" William said as the building exhaustion from the day was now finally catching up to him. Sandbar nodded and went to get up; the PT Corgi in the Pfc's lap jumped off and walked over to the couch William was on.
The marine looked back at the Lieutenant when he got to the door of the Barracks; all the dogs were gathered around William, who noticed Sandbar's look and waved him on. Once the marine had left the building, William let a tired sigh pass his lips as he looked up at the ceiling of the building.
"Everyone worrying about me like this makes me feel old. I'm not that old, 35 isn't that old now. Yet I'm making people worry about me like I'm at least twice that age and doing the work I do. Does that make me a shitty leader?" William said to the eight PT boats that were gathered around him. The dogs looked him as he brought his gaze down to them and they gave him either side-to-side shakes of their heads or two short barks. The responses made a smile crack across the Lieutenant's tired features.
"Thanks. I appreciate the vote of confidence boys." Corgi said to the PT boats. Who wagged their tails and smiled at the praise. "And I'll be damn sure, to personally vet whoever Admiral Raleigh sends to take over this post. So something like this mess with the LTJG...doesn't happen again." The comment made the PT boats whine a bit.
"You stop that, you know I can't stay here boys, I've got a lot more PT boats back in Port Fourchon who're waiting for me to return. Clayton is a good man, but he can only cover for my job for so long. We might be getting a pair of ensigns added to the unit in two days. But you he can't show em the ropes, cover his duties and my duties all at once." William said before another yawn escaped his lips, his eyelids felt heavy so he just closed them for a bit.
"Unless...Raleigh decided to bring Dog Squad and all those PT boat Squadrons back to New Orleans... but I don't think he'll do something like...that." William mumbled out as he nodded off into a deep sleep. The PT boats looked at the sleeping Lieutenant, and they knew that he'd have one badly sore neck if he was allowed to remain sleeping like that.
With a series of nudges and pushes with their noses as well as light pulling and tugging on the Lieutenant's NWU's with their mouths; being careful to not leave more than a slobber mark on the uniform. The eight PT Corgis of New Orleans' daytime patrol rotation carefully moved Lieutenant William Corgi into a more comfortable position lying down on the couch. One of the dogs had managed to nudge one of the couch pillows under the LT's head.
With their beloved commander now comfortably position on the rather comfortable couch and already sleeping, the PT Corgis gathered around him in a cuddle puddle. Leaving a very memorable sight for Private First Class Raphael Sandbar to see when he returned to the PT Boat barracks after dinner. As for William, his dreams were quiet and pleasant for the remainder of the night.
[=]
- Location
- Pacific Northwest
Some people deal with the loss of their loved ones to the Abyssals differently. Here's one of them
Feed the Ship Girls
Since the beginning of the Abyssal War, ports like San Diego, Seattle, and San Francisco had assumed major strategic importance. But Los Angeles and Long Beach still proved to be vital to the war effort. No other port on America's West Coast had Los Angeles' infrastructure and capacity for efficiently gathering massive amounts of goods and material from around the country, and packing it onto container ships. This made both Los Angeles and Long Beach the natural staging point for supply convoys headed to Japan, the Philippines and other nations of the Far East.
Long Beach Naval Shipyard had been closed for decades, turned over to the city of Long Beach and mostly converted to civilian use. All except for the long row of warehouses on Nimitz Blvd, right on the edge of Long Beach harbor. These have stood empty and abandoned since the base was closed in the last century. Some have withstood the assault by water, sun and time and were still standing. Others had proven to be less durable and had collapsed, but all showed signs of neglect and disrepair. It was inevitable the City Public Works department would soon order them torn down, and offer the land to commercial developers.
One day, a year or so after the start of the Abyssal War, four vehicles drove up to the largest warehouse. Three were nondescript, but the fourth one was an expensive foreign limousine, bearing the logo for Bally's International. Getting out of three of the vehicles were obviously construction people, dressed in rough work clothes. The occupants of the fourth vehicle were dressed in suits. Two of them were city officials, the mayor and the city planner for the City of Long Beach. The other two were elderly men, dressed in expensive suits, named John and Jack. At a nod from John, everyone dressed in work clothes opened the warehouse and swarmed inside. Some of them started minute inspections of the walls. Some of them shone bright lights at the ceiling and made detailed notes of what they saw. Some of the workers found the fuse boxes and began tracing down the wiring. Others began examining the doors and floor. Meanwhile, John, Jack, the mayor and the city planner stood by, waiting patiently.
After a few hours, the whole construction crew gathered together, and there were intense discussions about what they found. One of them, obviously the primary contractor, took notes, asked questions of everyone else and took more notes. After a lot of discussion, the primary contractor took his notes and went to John and Jack. He delivered a condensed report of what the various groups had found, what it would take to refurbish the building to meet code, what it would take to remodel it as John had laid out. He then quoted a price in the range of seven figures, and a time line that would take more than a year. He also cautioned that these were preliminary figures, subject to revision upwards, depending on what detailed inspections found and the availability of material and workforce to do the job.
John asked if the job could be done in 3 months. The primary contractor blanched. Such an undertaking would be prohibitively, even ruinously expensive. As he expressed this opinion, John turned to Jack and nodded. Jack handed the primary contractor a business card bearing the Bally's logo, with a number hand written on the back. Jack then explained that the number was a purchase order, and that all expenses were to be charged to it, no matter what. There would, of course, be periodic audits of the expenses and progress reviews by other contractors to assure that the project stayed on schedule.
The primary contractor looked at the card for a moment, before turning back to the gathered construction crew leaders waiting to hear from him. He gave a sharp whistle to catch their attention and when everyone was looking at him, he raised his right fist and pumped it up and down, and shouted,
"Let's do this! Deadline is 3 months! Move it!"
As one, all the construction crew leaders pulled out their cell phones, called their respective teams, and began giving orders. Within an hour, the first work parties arrived in big trucks hauling large amounts of construction material. John nodded approvingly at al the activity. He and Jack turned to the mayor and the city planner and nodded to them. The mayor and city planner nodded back and they went back to the limousine as one and drove off. The project was underway.
By that evening, over 300 construction workers were swarming all over and inside the building. Four construction cranes and half a dozen portable 50KW generators had joined them, as portable floodlights illuminated the exterior and interior of the building. The work continued on throughout the night, as trucks of various size carried in construction material and left empty to fetch the next load. There was a momentary pause in activity as a new shift of workers came in and the preceding shift left.
The next day, PG&E crews showed up to lay natural gas lines, and start construction on a power substation nearby. The work inside and on the outside of the warehouse continued unabated, with pauses for breakfast, lunch, dinner, shift changes and as required by law. This continued on for the next six weeks without interruptions. Finally, teams of inspectors came in and scrutinized all of the work. This process lasted for 5 days. At the end of it, the chief inspector certified that the building was now compliant with all federal, state and local building codes.
There was a brief break as another team began surveying the interior of the refurbished warehouse. After a few hours and many sketches, they left and trucks with assorted equipment and materials began to roll up. Some were massive, hauling huge industrial freezers, refrigerators, ovens, griddles and other more exotic appliances. Others had huge slabs of drywall, rubberized flooring and granite counter tops. Still others had numerous lighting fixtures, wiring and other electrical supplies. Plumbers came with piping, fixtures, huge industrial dishwashers and other items.
The work continued unabated for the next 5 weeks. By the end of the 5th week, more inspectors from the City of Long Beach, Health Inspectors from Los Angeles County and others swarmed through the interior. They inspected the wiring, the plumbing, drainage, the newly built kitchen areas and the newly installed industrial refrigerators and freezers. The inspection was passed. In the final week, trucks carrying various furnishings, tableware, kitchen implements and huge loads of frozen, canned, bulk and other food items steadily streamed from warehouses, dropped their loads and returned to pick up another load.
Finally, everything was in place. The food storage areas were packed full. Final decorative touches to the dining areas had been completed. Volunteer chefs from various restaurants and culinary schools around Southern California had been signed up. All that was needed, was notification of the next supply convoy headed to the Far East.
That notification was soon to be coming. The signs were unmistakable. There was a sharp increase of rail and truck traffic heading west. Convoys of trucks jammed the westbound lanes of Interstate 10 and 15, as well as other convoys crowding the southbound lanes on Interstate 5, all of them converging on Los Angeles. Mile-long trains rolled relentlessly west to the Los Angeles' rail yards. Large container ships arrived at Los Angeles harbor and were directed to either dock, with the assistance of the harbor tugs, or to anchor and wait their turn to be loaded. The longshoremen and cargo handling crews worked feverishly to move the loaded containers off the arriving trains and trucks and load them on the waiting vessels. Even working at full capacity for three full shifts, it was going to take some time to load everything. In the meantime, a squadron of destroyer and destroyer-escort ship girls took up the duty of patrolling the waters off Los Angeles and Long Beach. It was time to open the show.
A text message flashed to all the volunteer chefs, notifying them of the time to report and the time of their shifts. All local news outlets were notified. To finish it off, a huge banner was hung on the harbor side of the warehouse "Bally's presents the ALL YOU CAN EAT SHIP GIRL BUFFET! FREE TO ALL SHIP GIRLS! COME AND EAT YOUR FILL! NO RESTRICTIONS!" In smaller letters was "In appreciation to the dedication and courage of all shipgirls. Dedicated to the memory of Machinist Mate Third Class Daniel Morris, USS Antietam.
In local news spots that were picked up by national and international news outlets, showed an older man, dressed in an expensive suit, holding a picture of a young sailor. He introduced himself as John Morris, the owner of Bally's International. The picture he held was that of his grandson, Daniel. Daniel had enlisted in the Navy, and had been assigned to the USS Antietam at the outbreak of the Abyssal War. This was John's way to honor Daniel's memory and contribute directly to the war effort, by doing what he knew how to do best. He had gotten the idea for this venture, after seeing news reports from Japan on how the nationwide rationing often left the ship girls fighting the war going hungry. This was his response to that.
The reporters asked John questions. Ship girls were known to eat vast quantities of food. Were they prepared to feed such vast appetites? John pointed out that, just before the war, more than 75,000 people crowded through one of his casino's buffet to take advantage of a $9.95 New Year's Eve dinner special from 6 PM to midnight. Not only was everyone served, but everyone left full and happy, including the buffet staff. And that casino buffet in question had only one third the space and one quarter the staff he had planned for the Ship Girl Buffet.
"Why are you doing this for these creatures? They aren't even human!" Another reporter asked.
"If what the Navy has told us is true, these "creatures" have returned from the depths of the ocean and time. They have picked up the fight against the Abyssals, who are bent on wiping humanity from the seas. They are fighting on the front lines to defend us, expending their very lives in doing so. True, they may not be human, but they live, they think and feel, much like humans do. They understand and live such human concepts as courage, honor, and sacrifice. You ask any sailor, and they'll tell you that these ship girls are their comrade in arms. Should we not honor those who fight, bleed and die for our sake? My grandson fought and died to protect us from the threat of the Abyssals. I do this to honor those he would have welcomed as ship mates in this war." John stated emphatically.
"Of course. the buffet is open to all uniformed Navy personnel, as well as to the sailors crewing the container ships headed to the Far East as part of the convoy." John added
At his office at NAVSTA Everett, Admiral Williams was watching the newscast. Turning off his TV, he turned to his PIO, Cmdr Laura Michaels.
"Commander, is this guy legit?" He asked.
"Yes, sir. He was on Forbes' Top 20 most wealthy people in the world last year. Bally's owns the 10 biggest casinos in Las Vegas, five biggest in Atlantic City and 3 of the biggest in Macau. Bally's is privately held, and he's the sole owner. He's wealthy enough that he could probably buy a new carrier strike group, equip and supply it for a year, and pay all the crews for a year without breaking a sweat." she stated.
"What about this grandson of his? Did he really exist?" the Admiral asked, after picking up his jaw off the floor.
"Yes, sir. Machinist Mate Third Class Daniel Morris was aboard Antietam, when the Carl Vinson strike group encountered the Abyssals." Commander Michaels stated
Admiral Williams wrinkled hus forehead, as if trying to remember something.
"Antietam? Wasn't she the one that led 'Pickett's Charge?'" he asked
When the Abyssals had sunk most Carl Vinson's escort screen, Captain Steven Pickett, commander of Antietam, turned towards the Abyssals, and charged them with the 2 surviving Burke-class destroyers. Carl Vinson turned west and sped away at over 32 knots, as Captain Pickett urged them to do. Antietam and the Burkes held off the Abyssals for two hours as Carl Vinson made her escape. The three vessels were lost with all hands, some of the heaviest losses the Navy had suffered since World War 2. The press called the action "Pickett's Charge", and Captain Pickett was posthumously awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor.
"Sir, will you authorize any ship girls on convoy duty out of Los Angeles to visit the Buffet? If what Mr. Morris has planned is true, it would be an incredible boost to morale of those ship girls headed east." Commander Michaels asked.
"You really think so, Commander?" the Admiral asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Sir, some of the bigger ship girls have never had a chance to eat their fill. I say we give it a try. It would be an experience for them, especially the Japanese girls." said Commander Michaels.
"Okay, Commander, Draft a statement for release.
'The United States Navy and its allies are pleased to accept Mr. Morris' most generous offer to feed the ship girls on convoy escort duty out of Los Angeles. We look forward to a long and harmonious relationship. As of now, all ship girls on convoy escort duty, as well as all actice duty Navy personnel are authorized to visit The All-You-Can-Eat Ship Girl Buffet in Long Beach. We expect all participants to uphold the highest standards of behavior and to thank Mr. Morris and all those that have made this most generous offer possible'
Forward this to CNO, all PacFleet commands and all news outlets." Admiral Williams commanded.
"Aye, Aye, Sir` Commander Michaels replied, as she saluted, turned and went to her office to get the word out.
Feed the Ship Girls
Since the beginning of the Abyssal War, ports like San Diego, Seattle, and San Francisco had assumed major strategic importance. But Los Angeles and Long Beach still proved to be vital to the war effort. No other port on America's West Coast had Los Angeles' infrastructure and capacity for efficiently gathering massive amounts of goods and material from around the country, and packing it onto container ships. This made both Los Angeles and Long Beach the natural staging point for supply convoys headed to Japan, the Philippines and other nations of the Far East.
Long Beach Naval Shipyard had been closed for decades, turned over to the city of Long Beach and mostly converted to civilian use. All except for the long row of warehouses on Nimitz Blvd, right on the edge of Long Beach harbor. These have stood empty and abandoned since the base was closed in the last century. Some have withstood the assault by water, sun and time and were still standing. Others had proven to be less durable and had collapsed, but all showed signs of neglect and disrepair. It was inevitable the City Public Works department would soon order them torn down, and offer the land to commercial developers.
One day, a year or so after the start of the Abyssal War, four vehicles drove up to the largest warehouse. Three were nondescript, but the fourth one was an expensive foreign limousine, bearing the logo for Bally's International. Getting out of three of the vehicles were obviously construction people, dressed in rough work clothes. The occupants of the fourth vehicle were dressed in suits. Two of them were city officials, the mayor and the city planner for the City of Long Beach. The other two were elderly men, dressed in expensive suits, named John and Jack. At a nod from John, everyone dressed in work clothes opened the warehouse and swarmed inside. Some of them started minute inspections of the walls. Some of them shone bright lights at the ceiling and made detailed notes of what they saw. Some of the workers found the fuse boxes and began tracing down the wiring. Others began examining the doors and floor. Meanwhile, John, Jack, the mayor and the city planner stood by, waiting patiently.
After a few hours, the whole construction crew gathered together, and there were intense discussions about what they found. One of them, obviously the primary contractor, took notes, asked questions of everyone else and took more notes. After a lot of discussion, the primary contractor took his notes and went to John and Jack. He delivered a condensed report of what the various groups had found, what it would take to refurbish the building to meet code, what it would take to remodel it as John had laid out. He then quoted a price in the range of seven figures, and a time line that would take more than a year. He also cautioned that these were preliminary figures, subject to revision upwards, depending on what detailed inspections found and the availability of material and workforce to do the job.
John asked if the job could be done in 3 months. The primary contractor blanched. Such an undertaking would be prohibitively, even ruinously expensive. As he expressed this opinion, John turned to Jack and nodded. Jack handed the primary contractor a business card bearing the Bally's logo, with a number hand written on the back. Jack then explained that the number was a purchase order, and that all expenses were to be charged to it, no matter what. There would, of course, be periodic audits of the expenses and progress reviews by other contractors to assure that the project stayed on schedule.
The primary contractor looked at the card for a moment, before turning back to the gathered construction crew leaders waiting to hear from him. He gave a sharp whistle to catch their attention and when everyone was looking at him, he raised his right fist and pumped it up and down, and shouted,
"Let's do this! Deadline is 3 months! Move it!"
As one, all the construction crew leaders pulled out their cell phones, called their respective teams, and began giving orders. Within an hour, the first work parties arrived in big trucks hauling large amounts of construction material. John nodded approvingly at al the activity. He and Jack turned to the mayor and the city planner and nodded to them. The mayor and city planner nodded back and they went back to the limousine as one and drove off. The project was underway.
By that evening, over 300 construction workers were swarming all over and inside the building. Four construction cranes and half a dozen portable 50KW generators had joined them, as portable floodlights illuminated the exterior and interior of the building. The work continued on throughout the night, as trucks of various size carried in construction material and left empty to fetch the next load. There was a momentary pause in activity as a new shift of workers came in and the preceding shift left.
The next day, PG&E crews showed up to lay natural gas lines, and start construction on a power substation nearby. The work inside and on the outside of the warehouse continued unabated, with pauses for breakfast, lunch, dinner, shift changes and as required by law. This continued on for the next six weeks without interruptions. Finally, teams of inspectors came in and scrutinized all of the work. This process lasted for 5 days. At the end of it, the chief inspector certified that the building was now compliant with all federal, state and local building codes.
There was a brief break as another team began surveying the interior of the refurbished warehouse. After a few hours and many sketches, they left and trucks with assorted equipment and materials began to roll up. Some were massive, hauling huge industrial freezers, refrigerators, ovens, griddles and other more exotic appliances. Others had huge slabs of drywall, rubberized flooring and granite counter tops. Still others had numerous lighting fixtures, wiring and other electrical supplies. Plumbers came with piping, fixtures, huge industrial dishwashers and other items.
The work continued unabated for the next 5 weeks. By the end of the 5th week, more inspectors from the City of Long Beach, Health Inspectors from Los Angeles County and others swarmed through the interior. They inspected the wiring, the plumbing, drainage, the newly built kitchen areas and the newly installed industrial refrigerators and freezers. The inspection was passed. In the final week, trucks carrying various furnishings, tableware, kitchen implements and huge loads of frozen, canned, bulk and other food items steadily streamed from warehouses, dropped their loads and returned to pick up another load.
Finally, everything was in place. The food storage areas were packed full. Final decorative touches to the dining areas had been completed. Volunteer chefs from various restaurants and culinary schools around Southern California had been signed up. All that was needed, was notification of the next supply convoy headed to the Far East.
That notification was soon to be coming. The signs were unmistakable. There was a sharp increase of rail and truck traffic heading west. Convoys of trucks jammed the westbound lanes of Interstate 10 and 15, as well as other convoys crowding the southbound lanes on Interstate 5, all of them converging on Los Angeles. Mile-long trains rolled relentlessly west to the Los Angeles' rail yards. Large container ships arrived at Los Angeles harbor and were directed to either dock, with the assistance of the harbor tugs, or to anchor and wait their turn to be loaded. The longshoremen and cargo handling crews worked feverishly to move the loaded containers off the arriving trains and trucks and load them on the waiting vessels. Even working at full capacity for three full shifts, it was going to take some time to load everything. In the meantime, a squadron of destroyer and destroyer-escort ship girls took up the duty of patrolling the waters off Los Angeles and Long Beach. It was time to open the show.
A text message flashed to all the volunteer chefs, notifying them of the time to report and the time of their shifts. All local news outlets were notified. To finish it off, a huge banner was hung on the harbor side of the warehouse "Bally's presents the ALL YOU CAN EAT SHIP GIRL BUFFET! FREE TO ALL SHIP GIRLS! COME AND EAT YOUR FILL! NO RESTRICTIONS!" In smaller letters was "In appreciation to the dedication and courage of all shipgirls. Dedicated to the memory of Machinist Mate Third Class Daniel Morris, USS Antietam.
In local news spots that were picked up by national and international news outlets, showed an older man, dressed in an expensive suit, holding a picture of a young sailor. He introduced himself as John Morris, the owner of Bally's International. The picture he held was that of his grandson, Daniel. Daniel had enlisted in the Navy, and had been assigned to the USS Antietam at the outbreak of the Abyssal War. This was John's way to honor Daniel's memory and contribute directly to the war effort, by doing what he knew how to do best. He had gotten the idea for this venture, after seeing news reports from Japan on how the nationwide rationing often left the ship girls fighting the war going hungry. This was his response to that.
The reporters asked John questions. Ship girls were known to eat vast quantities of food. Were they prepared to feed such vast appetites? John pointed out that, just before the war, more than 75,000 people crowded through one of his casino's buffet to take advantage of a $9.95 New Year's Eve dinner special from 6 PM to midnight. Not only was everyone served, but everyone left full and happy, including the buffet staff. And that casino buffet in question had only one third the space and one quarter the staff he had planned for the Ship Girl Buffet.
"Why are you doing this for these creatures? They aren't even human!" Another reporter asked.
"If what the Navy has told us is true, these "creatures" have returned from the depths of the ocean and time. They have picked up the fight against the Abyssals, who are bent on wiping humanity from the seas. They are fighting on the front lines to defend us, expending their very lives in doing so. True, they may not be human, but they live, they think and feel, much like humans do. They understand and live such human concepts as courage, honor, and sacrifice. You ask any sailor, and they'll tell you that these ship girls are their comrade in arms. Should we not honor those who fight, bleed and die for our sake? My grandson fought and died to protect us from the threat of the Abyssals. I do this to honor those he would have welcomed as ship mates in this war." John stated emphatically.
"Of course. the buffet is open to all uniformed Navy personnel, as well as to the sailors crewing the container ships headed to the Far East as part of the convoy." John added
At his office at NAVSTA Everett, Admiral Williams was watching the newscast. Turning off his TV, he turned to his PIO, Cmdr Laura Michaels.
"Commander, is this guy legit?" He asked.
"Yes, sir. He was on Forbes' Top 20 most wealthy people in the world last year. Bally's owns the 10 biggest casinos in Las Vegas, five biggest in Atlantic City and 3 of the biggest in Macau. Bally's is privately held, and he's the sole owner. He's wealthy enough that he could probably buy a new carrier strike group, equip and supply it for a year, and pay all the crews for a year without breaking a sweat." she stated.
"What about this grandson of his? Did he really exist?" the Admiral asked, after picking up his jaw off the floor.
"Yes, sir. Machinist Mate Third Class Daniel Morris was aboard Antietam, when the Carl Vinson strike group encountered the Abyssals." Commander Michaels stated
Admiral Williams wrinkled hus forehead, as if trying to remember something.
"Antietam? Wasn't she the one that led 'Pickett's Charge?'" he asked
When the Abyssals had sunk most Carl Vinson's escort screen, Captain Steven Pickett, commander of Antietam, turned towards the Abyssals, and charged them with the 2 surviving Burke-class destroyers. Carl Vinson turned west and sped away at over 32 knots, as Captain Pickett urged them to do. Antietam and the Burkes held off the Abyssals for two hours as Carl Vinson made her escape. The three vessels were lost with all hands, some of the heaviest losses the Navy had suffered since World War 2. The press called the action "Pickett's Charge", and Captain Pickett was posthumously awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor.
"Sir, will you authorize any ship girls on convoy duty out of Los Angeles to visit the Buffet? If what Mr. Morris has planned is true, it would be an incredible boost to morale of those ship girls headed east." Commander Michaels asked.
"You really think so, Commander?" the Admiral asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Sir, some of the bigger ship girls have never had a chance to eat their fill. I say we give it a try. It would be an experience for them, especially the Japanese girls." said Commander Michaels.
"Okay, Commander, Draft a statement for release.
'The United States Navy and its allies are pleased to accept Mr. Morris' most generous offer to feed the ship girls on convoy escort duty out of Los Angeles. We look forward to a long and harmonious relationship. As of now, all ship girls on convoy escort duty, as well as all actice duty Navy personnel are authorized to visit The All-You-Can-Eat Ship Girl Buffet in Long Beach. We expect all participants to uphold the highest standards of behavior and to thank Mr. Morris and all those that have made this most generous offer possible'
Forward this to CNO, all PacFleet commands and all news outlets." Admiral Williams commanded.
"Aye, Aye, Sir` Commander Michaels replied, as she saluted, turned and went to her office to get the word out.
Last edited: