Belated Battleships (KanColle) [REHOST]
- Thread starter theJMPer
- Start date
And now, just for the sake of adding some content for the first time in a while, enjoy the first part of a two-part omake that examines just why one potential theatre of the war remains silent and peaceful.
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EVEN SALTIES HAVE THEIR PLACE, HERE, Part One
It started out innocently enough, as such things usually do. A little burble of instability in the atmosphere, so small and hard to see that even the professional meteorologists missed it, forming over northern New Mexico and formed a shortwave low pressure system before getting caught up in the prevailing winds, which carried it east along a stationary front over the Texas Panhandle.
Once over the Panhandle, eddies of turbulent flow coming off the Rocky Mountains fed the low, strengthening it into a significant storm system. Swinging north to follow the boundary between warm, moist air coming off the Gulf of Mexico and cold, dry Arctic air that had migrated south through central Canada, the system fed on the rich temperature gradient and ample moisture, rapidly growing as its central pressure dropped.
Sweeping to the northeast as it passed over the central states, the system acted as if it was toying with those in its path, with clear skies and well above-normal temperatures preceding it that, within hours, would degenerate into bitter cold, heavy snow, and howling winds, causing havoc with the blizzard conditions it created--though the locals, well used to such things, merely chalked it up to an "early winter" and got on with their lives as best they could.
By the time the system was approaching the Mississippi River, the Weather Service had gotten worried, and issued storm warnings for the Great Lakes--but exactly what happened next, nobody could have forecast.
As the storm passed Illinois and Wisconsin and started to move out over Lake Michigan, the relatively warm lake waters provided it with a burst of heat energy that would fuel and intensify it, in much the same way that hurricanes are fueled by the warm waters of the tropical oceans. This was no great surprise, as it's the method by which the famed November Gales of the Great Lakes occur. At the same time, however, a strong high pressure system stalled out over Maine, providing an effective block to the storm's forward progress.
With the storm's motion forward all but stopped, all of its kinetic energy had to go somewhere, and ended up further intensifying the storm. Between the stalled movement and the influx of energy from the warm lake water, the storm became a "meteorologic bomb," rapidly intensifying, its central pressure dropping precipitously as it simply sat in place and savaged Michigan and the Great Lakes with hurricane-force winds and heavy snowfall for several days.
Then, doing something that the meteorologists would never be able to explain rationally, it got even worse...
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26 November 2016, 1703 hours (local)
USCGC Edson, WDD-946
46°59' North latitude, 85°04' West longitude
About 13.5 nautical miles NNW of Whitefish Point, Michigan
Commander Martin Gonsalves was not a happy man.
One might think that being in command of the largest, most powerful ship operated by the US Coast Guard would be a posting that would make a person happy, proud that the service trusted him with such a job--but only if one didn't know the actual condition of Gonsalves's command.
Put simply, Edson was a floating deathtrap.
Following Blood Week, fears arose that Abyssals could rise anywhere that shipwrecks lay, and the bottom of the Great Lakes was home to over 6,000 wrecked ships. While the Rush-Bagot treaty had demilitarized them since 1817, the events of Blood Week had made it clear that Abyssal ships were far more effective than they should be against modern ships, and with the wrecks of several major sail warships in the Lakes from the War of 1812, nobody felt comfortable with the thought of the lakes freighters sailing without some sort of protection.
That said, the Lakes were too vital a lane of commerce to simply shut down and keep the freighters tied to their piers; the cost of losing the Lakes for iron ore transport alone would cripple the already-shaken economy and make the war effort untenable. Thus, the governments of the United States and Canada had come to an agreement to suspend the treaty for the duration of the war, allowing warships to patrol against the potential threat of Abyssals raiding lake commerce; in the US, this job, naturally, fell to the US Coast Guard.
The problem arose, however, that because of the treaty, there were no ships of either nation on the Lakes that carried anything more powerful than machine guns for law enforcement duties, and with the losses suffered in that first week of hostilities, neither the Coast Guard nor the Canadian Forces could afford to redeploy any of their surviving steel-hulled ships to the Great Lakes. The best that could be done was to instead repossess museum ships already on the St. Lawrence Seaway and restore them to service, in hopes that the same odd effect that benefited other World War Two-vintage ships against the Abyssals would make them competitive, too.
The result was that Edson was pulled from her museum berth in Bay City, Michigan, and hastily refitted to restore her to some semblance of combat readiness. However, the refit, frankly, was a bodge job, with lots of ad hoc temporary solutions that would get her systems sort of working, to get her out on patrol as fast as possible. Only three of her four boilers were functional, for example, and only two of her three five-inch guns. Her radar seemingly worked only when it felt like working (no amount of proper maintenance, percussive maintenance, swearing, pleading, or blood sacrifice served to appease it otherwise), and the ship's engineer described her electrical system as "one giant dead short waiting to happen, held together by bubble gum and baling wire, and one circuit breaker that's older than I am." At times, it seemed like the "refit" had consisted of nothing but slapping on the white paint and red-and-blue hull stripes of the Coast Guard over her existing Navy paint job.
Understandably, Gonsalves had no real confidence in his ship's ability to fight should Abyssals appear. But with HMCS Haida, HMCS Sackville, and the now-USCGC Barry undergoing the major refits needed to restore them to service, Edson was what was available--while the Coast Guard was promised a trio of Freedom-class Littoral Combat Ships to supplement her, the Navy had priority until Marinette Marine could cut first steel on the ships, and replacing hulls lost in the war kept pushing the Coast Guard's trio farther and farther into the future. There was talk of reactivating the cruiser Little Rock to give the American side a ship that both had some significant punch and a hull old enough to actually count as a World War Two vessel, but she was in need of even more extensive refit work than the destroyers, so that wouldn't provide any rapid relief.
For the moment, as near-incapacitated as she was, Edson was the one ship that could provide anti-Abyssal patrols in the Great Lakes, much to her skipper's dismay.
But that wasn't the only reason Gonsalves was unhappy.
Gonsalves was a career Coast Guardsman, who had spent a good amount of time serving aboard cutters in blue-water assignments; he was familiar with violent weather. Unlike many saltwater sailors, however, he'd grown up near the Great Lakes, and knew from boyhood experience sailing sport boats that they were actually inland seas, entirely capable of being as vicious and capricious as any ocean; indeed, his familiarity with the Lakes was one of the deciding factors in his having been transferred to them ten years before. Gonsalves knew the Lakes, he knew their weather patterns, and he knew the Gales of November.
And this gale was simply not following the rules.
Edson had spent the previous three days sailing the length of Lake Superior at a painfully slow pace, fighting the storm's fury as the ship attempted to comply with orders to shift to a patrol in Lake Huron by the 25th; extreme heavy seas had forced Gonsalves to order a low speed and attempt to sail in the lee of the Canadian shoreline, with little benefit and preventing the ship from arriving on patrol on time. Twelve hours earlier, word came that the Army Corps of Engineers had shut down the Soo Locks because conditions were too bad for any ship to attempt a transit of them; Gonsalves had thus been forced to attempt to seek the only relatively safe harbor within reach, Whitefish Bay, to ride out the storm until the Locks reopened.
By this point, Gonsalves knew, the storm should have been beginning to weaken, having spent its fury. However, defying all logic, conditions were getting even worse. Edson's anenometer had been reading winds of 80 miles an hour gusting to 100 shortly before it had failed an hour earlier; Gonsalves estimated the waves at close to 40 feet, battering the old destroyer badly and forcing him to sail on a more easterly course to keep them closer to her bow. It was the noisiest storm Gonsalves had ever encountered, too. The crashing of water against the hull and the roar of the wind was one thing, but... Gonsalves had experienced thundersnow, once, but that was a few isolated bolts. The normal sounds of the storm were being backed by a continuous bass rumbling of rolling thunder, with different parts of the sky constantly lighting up from the latest bolt.
Continuous lightning in a blizzard wasn't supposed to be possible--but then, the last two years had seen a hell of a lot of changes in the boundaries of possibility already.
A particularly large wave came crashing over the bow; almost immediately after, a call came up over the 32MC (Weapons Control) circuit: "Bridge, Mount 51, we just had every breaker in the world trip down here. Looks like that last wave got through the weather seals and into the gunhouse; we're gonna be out of service for at least twenty minutes, probably more if the waves don't let up."
Biting back a curse, Gonsalves acknowledged the message. Now he was down to just a single five-inch gun if he encountered anything that needed killing--the Mark 54s in the torpedo tubes weren't going to be tracking anything in an environment this noisy.
"Fucking hate these Great Lakes storms," muttered the helmsman, not as quietly as he'd intended. "Can't even get into a rhythm, waves come at you from all directions, not just upwind..."
Gonsalves opened his mouth to chastise the man, but realized he couldn't blame him, not in the worst storm he'd ever been in. Instead, he just told him, "Just... do your best, Chief, and try to get us into the lee of the shore as soon as you can." He elected to take the blurted profanity that coincided with a particularly fierce side-on wave as acknowledgement. Moving unsteadily back to his seat, he got on the squawk box. "Radar, Bridge, can you see anything? It looks like the inside of a ping-pong ball from up here."
The reply wasn't that reassuring: "Bridge, Radar, our screens are just walls of snow at this point, only variation in intensity comes from the rotation speed changing with the wind angle. It's just too much spray and precip to pick up--" The call was interrupted by a horrible screech of stressed metal tearing, followed by a rumbling boom that reverberated through the deckplates. "Bridge, radar, correction, as of now we've got absolutely nothing, black screens without even the sweep line. Was that noise what I think it was?"
"Not sure, Radar, but if that wasn't the foremast letting go, I'll eat a bug. All your systems are dead now?"
"Bridge, Radar, that's affirm, even the push-to-test isn't responding. We're not gonna be able to give you anything more until this storm breaks. Requesting permission to secure station?"
The sound-powered phone next to Gonsalves started ringing. "Radar, Bridge, stand by." Gonsalves picked up the phone. "Bridge here."
"Bridge, Midships Lookout, we just lost the radars! Repeat, the whole goddamn foremast just collapsed and went over the side!"
"FUCK ME! Midships Lookout, Bridge, jesus christ, you don't need to scream into the phone, sailor, you damn near blew out my eardrum! Confirm--we lost the foremast? SPS-6 and SPS-10 are both gone?"
"Bridge, sorry, sir, but that's affirm, the whole thing crumpled about even with the top of the stack cap, slammed into itself as it bent over, then tore off, hit the deck, and bounced into the drink, nothing left but twisted metal."
"Midships Lookout, Bridge, very well, carry on as best you can, out." Gonsalves turned back to his command circuit squawk box. "Radar, Bridge, lookout reports both SPS-6 and SPS-10 antennas have departed the ship, so you guys aren't going to be any more help. Still, let's do it by the book, just in case some of the belowdecks equipment is still working; shut down your systems and secure your station."
"Bridge, radar, shutting down systems and securing station, sir. Request permission to secure circuit?"
"Radar, bridge, secure."
"Bridge, radar, aye, going off the line."
"This situation is just getting better by the minute," Gonsalves grumbled to himself. "How much longer before we reach Whitefish Bay?"
The navigator, who had just finished upchucking into a wastebasket at his station, wiped his mouth on his sleeve as he unsteadily checked his charts. Normally, Gonsalves would tear him a new one for dirtying his uniform like that; right now, though, he was simply thankful the man had gotten to the basket instead of puking directly onto the deck--or the charts. "Sir, we still don't have GPS signal and the SINS's gyros are so tumbled it's claiming we're in Minneapolis's eastern suburbs, but best guess, I'd say at least another three hours at this speed, if we don't have to turn any further east."
"Damn," Gonsalves muttered. "Helm, do you think we could safely come right to--"
The question was interrupted by a shout from the loudspeaker to the 18MC (bridge communications). "Bridge, Forward Lookout, contact, ten o'clock, very close--that's gotta be Abyssal!"
Gonsalves dashed over to the bridge window and looked out into the gloomy blizzard--there it was! A big, black ship, with the chitinous "teeth" in the bow characteristic of Abyssals, clearly a relic of the Age of Sail by the three masts. It appeared to have at least two gun decks, maybe a third, and couldn't have been more than a hundred yards off the port side, sailing parallel to Edson. "Sound General Quarters! Prepare to engage hostile ship!"
The gong of the general alarm sounded, followed by the announcement, and the seconds passed by agonizingly slowly as Gonsalves stared at the enemy vessel. Flush-decked, looked like a spar frigate, but far, far too big to be a frigate--this could only be a full-fledged ship of the line; even though it looked like it was suffering from the storm at least as badly as Edson was--even as he watched, Gonsalves saw its mainmast fall, splintered by the wind and waves--this would be a serious mismatch. He prayed that whatever effect was making modern ships less effective wouldn't work in reverse, because if it did, then he was in command of a destroyer about to knife-fight a battleship--a situation that rarely ended well for the destroyer.
The Abyssal's gunports never opened, though, and eventually, the just-arrived bridge phone talker reported, "Sir, all stations report manned and ready--wait one... stand by... correction, sir! Mount 53 reports loader casualty, sir, that last roll was enough to tip the shells and jam the hoists, estimate at least fifteen minutes to repair!"
"Goddammit! Do we have any sort of weapons working?! I'd even take a fifty-cal at this point!"
"Only if you count the hedgehogs, sir, unless you plan on a boarding action." Even before he was done saying it, the phone talker realized how stupid a comment that was; he was already cringing in on himself before Gonsalves could turn the Death Glare upon him.
Even as the talker wilted under his gaze, though, and despite the situation, Gonsalves couldn't help but twist the knife a little, just to save time in driving the message home. "Well, then, would you please contact the galley and see if they could scare up some steak knives for you to go out on deck and throw at the enemy?" he snapped. The chief manning the helm just barely choked back a snort of laughter before Gonsalves turned to him. "Chief! Keep that damned thing in view, but for christ's sake, don't get any closer to it--at this range, even old muzzle-loaders could hurt us pretty bad!"
"Maneuvering to maintain station as best I can, aye--FUCK!" The helmsman's acknowledgement was cut off by a much, much larger wave than the previous ones striking the ship at a quartering angle on the bow, rocking it violently enough to throw him to the deck--indeed, Gonsalves was the only man on the bridge to not take a spill from it, and only because he was sitting down. Before the decks could clear from that wave, the ship was rocked by another, even larger wave striking it from the same direction... after which it felt like the bottom fell out of the world as Edson dropped like a stone.
There was a hideous grinding sound of scraping, tearing metal from deep below Gonsalves as the ship's downward motion abruptly stopped... and time seemed to slow to a crawl for Edson's captain, as he looked out around him, surveying the situation.
There was still water on Edson's deck as he looked out the bridge windows. However, the water surrounding the destroyer was now so shallow--ten feet, at most--that Gonsalves could clearly see the bottom, with Edson obviously sliding along it, grinding away her keel plates. Off the starboard bow, the tallest wall of water Gonsalves had ever seen was approaching, seeming to be moving at less than a walking pace, though he knew full well it was coming much faster than that. And off to port...
Off to the port side, the Abyssal ship had also just been grounded by the trough between waves. Indeed, Gonsalves could see the planking of her hull splintering under the stress; there was no way it could ever survive what was coming. What's more, somehow, Gonsalves just knew that, despite not being able to see each other, he had just locked eyes with whoever--or whatever--was commanding that ship, and that they were realizing exactly the same thing he had. He distinctly felt as if he was getting a grim nod of understanding from the enemy, that they were both reminded that the true foe of all mariners remained the fury of nature itself.
The two ships' fates were now inextricably linked, Gonsalves knew. Neither one would survive the next wave. He, and every member of his crew, was about to die, and there wasn't a goddamn thing anyone could do about it.
It was ironic, he knew. Gonsalves had spent his adult life rescuing those in peril on the sea, often in severe storms, while the past two years, he had spent preparing to fight an inscrutable foe from the ocean's depths, but without ever encountering one. And now, he was almost within arm's reach of an Abyssal warship, the first time he'd ever seen one... and both it and his own ship were going to be lost with all hands to the same sort of weather he'd spent eighteen years saving people from.
But instead of helplessness, Gonsalves felt an odd sense of complete and utter peace rush through him--it was all over now; he didn't need to struggle, didn't need to make any decisions, didn't need to keep fighting against fate, he just needed to wait for it to come.
For the first time in years, he could relax.
As he turned back towards the approaching wave, Gonsalves did the only thing that was left to do--the only thing he could do--in this situation. He began to laugh.
The last thing he saw was a wall of green water smashing through the bridge windows.
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"Edson..."
The voice was dark and deep, simultaneously frightening and comforting.
"Edson, come to me."
She didn't want to go to it. There was still work to be done!
"Come, Edson. Now."
Yet she felt compelled to follow it, to go where it was calling her. Into the cold and dark.
"Edson, come to me, you no--"
"N̴̬̓̀͘Ǫ̸̯͕̾̄!̵̙͚̆ ̶̞͍͝ ̷̓̿͜B̴̜̞̋̈̄ͅE̵̬̒̎͘G̷̰̘͘͝O̷̠͛̒̉N̴̳͂Ȩ̴̡̅̍̕,̵̦̦͂̓̓ ̸͕͑͛J̷̝̥̟̓̎̈́O̸̮͗̐͝N̵̺͈̾Ē̵̝̹̩̈́̿S̵̢̬̏̓͠!̶̹͕̮̈́͋́"
"...what."
"S̭̉h̥̱̽͗e̒͜ ̮̈i͈̹̇̾s̝͛ ̛͚ň̖͢͞o̜̫͋͒t ̝͕̇͝Y̪͂OÜ̠̯͞R̟̲̓̾S͍̻̀̽,̠̬̌͂ J̲̍ọ̚n͈͎͛̔es̡̿! ̛̻S̜͋h͚̙̽̔ě̠̹̍ ͇̿ḏ̩̀͝ì͖d̜͋ ̥͒̀͟n̫̙̅͊ǒ͆͜ͅt̳̾ ̟̘̈͝s̢̠̐͑i͇͋n̛͉̞͒ḱ͕̝̾ ̪̞͊͝in̼̩̏̕ ̥̈́̋͜y̬̕o̢̬͋̊ū̧̹̍ṟ͗ ̱͌ḍ̮͂̿ọ͑m̠͋ä̧͍̎in, ̙͘s̼̥̊͘h̨͙͒͝e ̰̼̎͝sȃ͍̀͜n̯̦̓͝k͕͂ ̂͜in͉̆ ͓͠MI̢͑N̐͜E̥̩̓͞!̣̱̈͡"
"But she is of my--"
"S̳̤͍̝̫̮͗̔̈͂̈́͗H̰̖̣̜̮̤̺̗͖̣̀̉̎͗̐̑͗̏͠͝Ȩ̢͕̭̗̣̤̭̅̂̉̂͑̎́̚͡ͅ ̡̜͍̘̰͎̜͖̆̒͂̽̔̃͆͊Í̡̼̬̹̼̠͔̏̍͊̈͞͝Ş̛̥͖͎̻̩̪̂̓̍̄̄͛͘͜ ̡̨͍̲͍̩̦̥̞͍͛̆̇̀̍͒̿̐̕͝M͓̣̱̺̞̳̭͕̿͆͌̄͊͑̐̌̚ͅI̧̧̞͈͋̾́̆N͚̫͓͉̣̫̬̲̺̦͒͛̅̔̽͗̃̔́͞Ē̢̡̧̙͎̥̺͙͈͋̍̅̉̓̿͊̀,̧̲͇̱̙͔̹̘̼̖̪̠͛̏̈́̊̇͆̿͌͘͘̚͝ͅ JO̧̗͇̞̜̠͔͙̬̭̤̜͕̿̎͗̒̔̅̂̀̈̕͘͢͡͡͝N̨̰̠̘̻̤̂̍͊͛̌͘Ĕ̡̙͍͎͈͕͖͖̙̈́͌̔̋͒̾̓̀͢S̡̨̨͇͔̥̙̮͍̖͖͈͛̆́̏̀́̓͆͋̐́̉́͜͢͡!̧̤̗͍̔̽͌͘ ̢̧̝̱̠͙͔̱͇͊̑͐̈́̐͌̓͋̊͠ͅ ̥͍̭̺͉̋̓̀̉̃̚͟͡ͅM̟͛Í͓̯̙̠͔̥̣͇͈͇͙̾̐̅́̄͐̀͘̚͞N̨̳̞̙͍̲͙͎͌̅́͂͂̓́͛Ȩ͉̙̱͍͑̎͂̾̾!̻̫͍̘͎̩̪͒̅͂̔͑̂̏"
A deafening crack rang out across the icy plain.
"A͍̋n͔̝̉̓̾͟͢͡d̝̾͘͟ ̡̫̠͖͆̐͡͝h̛̼̩́è̼̞̃r̞̙̯̒͒̽ ͕̤̓͌ŕ̺ȍ̬̞̲̊͡l̮̓ȩ̙͓͇̀̎͑̄ ̪͝i̛̥̤͓͓͒̓͋n̜͆ ͙̌ṱ̥͕͐̇͝h̡̰̻͛̿͠is í̧̺̈́s̹̃ ̜̒ń̨̲̮͍̼̋̍̍͝o̥̜̐͌͢͝ẗ̨́ ̟͡y̫͚̞̫̻̋͑͋́͞et ̩̩̼̽̽͑ǫ̝̱̹̾̐̓̆v̪̫̆͌ḛ̜̭̌͘͝ř̫͍͞.͙̆́͟͠ͅ.̡̜̄͡.̬̫͛͠"
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EVEN SALTIES HAVE THEIR PLACE, HERE, Part One
It started out innocently enough, as such things usually do. A little burble of instability in the atmosphere, so small and hard to see that even the professional meteorologists missed it, forming over northern New Mexico and formed a shortwave low pressure system before getting caught up in the prevailing winds, which carried it east along a stationary front over the Texas Panhandle.
Once over the Panhandle, eddies of turbulent flow coming off the Rocky Mountains fed the low, strengthening it into a significant storm system. Swinging north to follow the boundary between warm, moist air coming off the Gulf of Mexico and cold, dry Arctic air that had migrated south through central Canada, the system fed on the rich temperature gradient and ample moisture, rapidly growing as its central pressure dropped.
Sweeping to the northeast as it passed over the central states, the system acted as if it was toying with those in its path, with clear skies and well above-normal temperatures preceding it that, within hours, would degenerate into bitter cold, heavy snow, and howling winds, causing havoc with the blizzard conditions it created--though the locals, well used to such things, merely chalked it up to an "early winter" and got on with their lives as best they could.
By the time the system was approaching the Mississippi River, the Weather Service had gotten worried, and issued storm warnings for the Great Lakes--but exactly what happened next, nobody could have forecast.
As the storm passed Illinois and Wisconsin and started to move out over Lake Michigan, the relatively warm lake waters provided it with a burst of heat energy that would fuel and intensify it, in much the same way that hurricanes are fueled by the warm waters of the tropical oceans. This was no great surprise, as it's the method by which the famed November Gales of the Great Lakes occur. At the same time, however, a strong high pressure system stalled out over Maine, providing an effective block to the storm's forward progress.
With the storm's motion forward all but stopped, all of its kinetic energy had to go somewhere, and ended up further intensifying the storm. Between the stalled movement and the influx of energy from the warm lake water, the storm became a "meteorologic bomb," rapidly intensifying, its central pressure dropping precipitously as it simply sat in place and savaged Michigan and the Great Lakes with hurricane-force winds and heavy snowfall for several days.
Then, doing something that the meteorologists would never be able to explain rationally, it got even worse...
---------
26 November 2016, 1703 hours (local)
USCGC Edson, WDD-946
46°59' North latitude, 85°04' West longitude
About 13.5 nautical miles NNW of Whitefish Point, Michigan
Commander Martin Gonsalves was not a happy man.
One might think that being in command of the largest, most powerful ship operated by the US Coast Guard would be a posting that would make a person happy, proud that the service trusted him with such a job--but only if one didn't know the actual condition of Gonsalves's command.
Put simply, Edson was a floating deathtrap.
Following Blood Week, fears arose that Abyssals could rise anywhere that shipwrecks lay, and the bottom of the Great Lakes was home to over 6,000 wrecked ships. While the Rush-Bagot treaty had demilitarized them since 1817, the events of Blood Week had made it clear that Abyssal ships were far more effective than they should be against modern ships, and with the wrecks of several major sail warships in the Lakes from the War of 1812, nobody felt comfortable with the thought of the lakes freighters sailing without some sort of protection.
That said, the Lakes were too vital a lane of commerce to simply shut down and keep the freighters tied to their piers; the cost of losing the Lakes for iron ore transport alone would cripple the already-shaken economy and make the war effort untenable. Thus, the governments of the United States and Canada had come to an agreement to suspend the treaty for the duration of the war, allowing warships to patrol against the potential threat of Abyssals raiding lake commerce; in the US, this job, naturally, fell to the US Coast Guard.
The problem arose, however, that because of the treaty, there were no ships of either nation on the Lakes that carried anything more powerful than machine guns for law enforcement duties, and with the losses suffered in that first week of hostilities, neither the Coast Guard nor the Canadian Forces could afford to redeploy any of their surviving steel-hulled ships to the Great Lakes. The best that could be done was to instead repossess museum ships already on the St. Lawrence Seaway and restore them to service, in hopes that the same odd effect that benefited other World War Two-vintage ships against the Abyssals would make them competitive, too.
The result was that Edson was pulled from her museum berth in Bay City, Michigan, and hastily refitted to restore her to some semblance of combat readiness. However, the refit, frankly, was a bodge job, with lots of ad hoc temporary solutions that would get her systems sort of working, to get her out on patrol as fast as possible. Only three of her four boilers were functional, for example, and only two of her three five-inch guns. Her radar seemingly worked only when it felt like working (no amount of proper maintenance, percussive maintenance, swearing, pleading, or blood sacrifice served to appease it otherwise), and the ship's engineer described her electrical system as "one giant dead short waiting to happen, held together by bubble gum and baling wire, and one circuit breaker that's older than I am." At times, it seemed like the "refit" had consisted of nothing but slapping on the white paint and red-and-blue hull stripes of the Coast Guard over her existing Navy paint job.
Understandably, Gonsalves had no real confidence in his ship's ability to fight should Abyssals appear. But with HMCS Haida, HMCS Sackville, and the now-USCGC Barry undergoing the major refits needed to restore them to service, Edson was what was available--while the Coast Guard was promised a trio of Freedom-class Littoral Combat Ships to supplement her, the Navy had priority until Marinette Marine could cut first steel on the ships, and replacing hulls lost in the war kept pushing the Coast Guard's trio farther and farther into the future. There was talk of reactivating the cruiser Little Rock to give the American side a ship that both had some significant punch and a hull old enough to actually count as a World War Two vessel, but she was in need of even more extensive refit work than the destroyers, so that wouldn't provide any rapid relief.
For the moment, as near-incapacitated as she was, Edson was the one ship that could provide anti-Abyssal patrols in the Great Lakes, much to her skipper's dismay.
But that wasn't the only reason Gonsalves was unhappy.
Gonsalves was a career Coast Guardsman, who had spent a good amount of time serving aboard cutters in blue-water assignments; he was familiar with violent weather. Unlike many saltwater sailors, however, he'd grown up near the Great Lakes, and knew from boyhood experience sailing sport boats that they were actually inland seas, entirely capable of being as vicious and capricious as any ocean; indeed, his familiarity with the Lakes was one of the deciding factors in his having been transferred to them ten years before. Gonsalves knew the Lakes, he knew their weather patterns, and he knew the Gales of November.
And this gale was simply not following the rules.
Edson had spent the previous three days sailing the length of Lake Superior at a painfully slow pace, fighting the storm's fury as the ship attempted to comply with orders to shift to a patrol in Lake Huron by the 25th; extreme heavy seas had forced Gonsalves to order a low speed and attempt to sail in the lee of the Canadian shoreline, with little benefit and preventing the ship from arriving on patrol on time. Twelve hours earlier, word came that the Army Corps of Engineers had shut down the Soo Locks because conditions were too bad for any ship to attempt a transit of them; Gonsalves had thus been forced to attempt to seek the only relatively safe harbor within reach, Whitefish Bay, to ride out the storm until the Locks reopened.
By this point, Gonsalves knew, the storm should have been beginning to weaken, having spent its fury. However, defying all logic, conditions were getting even worse. Edson's anenometer had been reading winds of 80 miles an hour gusting to 100 shortly before it had failed an hour earlier; Gonsalves estimated the waves at close to 40 feet, battering the old destroyer badly and forcing him to sail on a more easterly course to keep them closer to her bow. It was the noisiest storm Gonsalves had ever encountered, too. The crashing of water against the hull and the roar of the wind was one thing, but... Gonsalves had experienced thundersnow, once, but that was a few isolated bolts. The normal sounds of the storm were being backed by a continuous bass rumbling of rolling thunder, with different parts of the sky constantly lighting up from the latest bolt.
Continuous lightning in a blizzard wasn't supposed to be possible--but then, the last two years had seen a hell of a lot of changes in the boundaries of possibility already.
A particularly large wave came crashing over the bow; almost immediately after, a call came up over the 32MC (Weapons Control) circuit: "Bridge, Mount 51, we just had every breaker in the world trip down here. Looks like that last wave got through the weather seals and into the gunhouse; we're gonna be out of service for at least twenty minutes, probably more if the waves don't let up."
Biting back a curse, Gonsalves acknowledged the message. Now he was down to just a single five-inch gun if he encountered anything that needed killing--the Mark 54s in the torpedo tubes weren't going to be tracking anything in an environment this noisy.
"Fucking hate these Great Lakes storms," muttered the helmsman, not as quietly as he'd intended. "Can't even get into a rhythm, waves come at you from all directions, not just upwind..."
Gonsalves opened his mouth to chastise the man, but realized he couldn't blame him, not in the worst storm he'd ever been in. Instead, he just told him, "Just... do your best, Chief, and try to get us into the lee of the shore as soon as you can." He elected to take the blurted profanity that coincided with a particularly fierce side-on wave as acknowledgement. Moving unsteadily back to his seat, he got on the squawk box. "Radar, Bridge, can you see anything? It looks like the inside of a ping-pong ball from up here."
The reply wasn't that reassuring: "Bridge, Radar, our screens are just walls of snow at this point, only variation in intensity comes from the rotation speed changing with the wind angle. It's just too much spray and precip to pick up--" The call was interrupted by a horrible screech of stressed metal tearing, followed by a rumbling boom that reverberated through the deckplates. "Bridge, radar, correction, as of now we've got absolutely nothing, black screens without even the sweep line. Was that noise what I think it was?"
"Not sure, Radar, but if that wasn't the foremast letting go, I'll eat a bug. All your systems are dead now?"
"Bridge, Radar, that's affirm, even the push-to-test isn't responding. We're not gonna be able to give you anything more until this storm breaks. Requesting permission to secure station?"
The sound-powered phone next to Gonsalves started ringing. "Radar, Bridge, stand by." Gonsalves picked up the phone. "Bridge here."
"Bridge, Midships Lookout, we just lost the radars! Repeat, the whole goddamn foremast just collapsed and went over the side!"
"FUCK ME! Midships Lookout, Bridge, jesus christ, you don't need to scream into the phone, sailor, you damn near blew out my eardrum! Confirm--we lost the foremast? SPS-6 and SPS-10 are both gone?"
"Bridge, sorry, sir, but that's affirm, the whole thing crumpled about even with the top of the stack cap, slammed into itself as it bent over, then tore off, hit the deck, and bounced into the drink, nothing left but twisted metal."
"Midships Lookout, Bridge, very well, carry on as best you can, out." Gonsalves turned back to his command circuit squawk box. "Radar, Bridge, lookout reports both SPS-6 and SPS-10 antennas have departed the ship, so you guys aren't going to be any more help. Still, let's do it by the book, just in case some of the belowdecks equipment is still working; shut down your systems and secure your station."
"Bridge, radar, shutting down systems and securing station, sir. Request permission to secure circuit?"
"Radar, bridge, secure."
"Bridge, radar, aye, going off the line."
"This situation is just getting better by the minute," Gonsalves grumbled to himself. "How much longer before we reach Whitefish Bay?"
The navigator, who had just finished upchucking into a wastebasket at his station, wiped his mouth on his sleeve as he unsteadily checked his charts. Normally, Gonsalves would tear him a new one for dirtying his uniform like that; right now, though, he was simply thankful the man had gotten to the basket instead of puking directly onto the deck--or the charts. "Sir, we still don't have GPS signal and the SINS's gyros are so tumbled it's claiming we're in Minneapolis's eastern suburbs, but best guess, I'd say at least another three hours at this speed, if we don't have to turn any further east."
"Damn," Gonsalves muttered. "Helm, do you think we could safely come right to--"
The question was interrupted by a shout from the loudspeaker to the 18MC (bridge communications). "Bridge, Forward Lookout, contact, ten o'clock, very close--that's gotta be Abyssal!"
Gonsalves dashed over to the bridge window and looked out into the gloomy blizzard--there it was! A big, black ship, with the chitinous "teeth" in the bow characteristic of Abyssals, clearly a relic of the Age of Sail by the three masts. It appeared to have at least two gun decks, maybe a third, and couldn't have been more than a hundred yards off the port side, sailing parallel to Edson. "Sound General Quarters! Prepare to engage hostile ship!"
The gong of the general alarm sounded, followed by the announcement, and the seconds passed by agonizingly slowly as Gonsalves stared at the enemy vessel. Flush-decked, looked like a spar frigate, but far, far too big to be a frigate--this could only be a full-fledged ship of the line; even though it looked like it was suffering from the storm at least as badly as Edson was--even as he watched, Gonsalves saw its mainmast fall, splintered by the wind and waves--this would be a serious mismatch. He prayed that whatever effect was making modern ships less effective wouldn't work in reverse, because if it did, then he was in command of a destroyer about to knife-fight a battleship--a situation that rarely ended well for the destroyer.
The Abyssal's gunports never opened, though, and eventually, the just-arrived bridge phone talker reported, "Sir, all stations report manned and ready--wait one... stand by... correction, sir! Mount 53 reports loader casualty, sir, that last roll was enough to tip the shells and jam the hoists, estimate at least fifteen minutes to repair!"
"Goddammit! Do we have any sort of weapons working?! I'd even take a fifty-cal at this point!"
"Only if you count the hedgehogs, sir, unless you plan on a boarding action." Even before he was done saying it, the phone talker realized how stupid a comment that was; he was already cringing in on himself before Gonsalves could turn the Death Glare upon him.
Even as the talker wilted under his gaze, though, and despite the situation, Gonsalves couldn't help but twist the knife a little, just to save time in driving the message home. "Well, then, would you please contact the galley and see if they could scare up some steak knives for you to go out on deck and throw at the enemy?" he snapped. The chief manning the helm just barely choked back a snort of laughter before Gonsalves turned to him. "Chief! Keep that damned thing in view, but for christ's sake, don't get any closer to it--at this range, even old muzzle-loaders could hurt us pretty bad!"
"Maneuvering to maintain station as best I can, aye--FUCK!" The helmsman's acknowledgement was cut off by a much, much larger wave than the previous ones striking the ship at a quartering angle on the bow, rocking it violently enough to throw him to the deck--indeed, Gonsalves was the only man on the bridge to not take a spill from it, and only because he was sitting down. Before the decks could clear from that wave, the ship was rocked by another, even larger wave striking it from the same direction... after which it felt like the bottom fell out of the world as Edson dropped like a stone.
There was a hideous grinding sound of scraping, tearing metal from deep below Gonsalves as the ship's downward motion abruptly stopped... and time seemed to slow to a crawl for Edson's captain, as he looked out around him, surveying the situation.
There was still water on Edson's deck as he looked out the bridge windows. However, the water surrounding the destroyer was now so shallow--ten feet, at most--that Gonsalves could clearly see the bottom, with Edson obviously sliding along it, grinding away her keel plates. Off the starboard bow, the tallest wall of water Gonsalves had ever seen was approaching, seeming to be moving at less than a walking pace, though he knew full well it was coming much faster than that. And off to port...
Off to the port side, the Abyssal ship had also just been grounded by the trough between waves. Indeed, Gonsalves could see the planking of her hull splintering under the stress; there was no way it could ever survive what was coming. What's more, somehow, Gonsalves just knew that, despite not being able to see each other, he had just locked eyes with whoever--or whatever--was commanding that ship, and that they were realizing exactly the same thing he had. He distinctly felt as if he was getting a grim nod of understanding from the enemy, that they were both reminded that the true foe of all mariners remained the fury of nature itself.
The two ships' fates were now inextricably linked, Gonsalves knew. Neither one would survive the next wave. He, and every member of his crew, was about to die, and there wasn't a goddamn thing anyone could do about it.
It was ironic, he knew. Gonsalves had spent his adult life rescuing those in peril on the sea, often in severe storms, while the past two years, he had spent preparing to fight an inscrutable foe from the ocean's depths, but without ever encountering one. And now, he was almost within arm's reach of an Abyssal warship, the first time he'd ever seen one... and both it and his own ship were going to be lost with all hands to the same sort of weather he'd spent eighteen years saving people from.
But instead of helplessness, Gonsalves felt an odd sense of complete and utter peace rush through him--it was all over now; he didn't need to struggle, didn't need to make any decisions, didn't need to keep fighting against fate, he just needed to wait for it to come.
For the first time in years, he could relax.
As he turned back towards the approaching wave, Gonsalves did the only thing that was left to do--the only thing he could do--in this situation. He began to laugh.
The last thing he saw was a wall of green water smashing through the bridge windows.
-----------
"Edson..."
The voice was dark and deep, simultaneously frightening and comforting.
"Edson, come to me."
She didn't want to go to it. There was still work to be done!
"Come, Edson. Now."
Yet she felt compelled to follow it, to go where it was calling her. Into the cold and dark.
"Edson, come to me, you no--"
"N̴̬̓̀͘Ǫ̸̯͕̾̄!̵̙͚̆ ̶̞͍͝ ̷̓̿͜B̴̜̞̋̈̄ͅE̵̬̒̎͘G̷̰̘͘͝O̷̠͛̒̉N̴̳͂Ȩ̴̡̅̍̕,̵̦̦͂̓̓ ̸͕͑͛J̷̝̥̟̓̎̈́O̸̮͗̐͝N̵̺͈̾Ē̵̝̹̩̈́̿S̵̢̬̏̓͠!̶̹͕̮̈́͋́"
"...what."
"S̭̉h̥̱̽͗e̒͜ ̮̈i͈̹̇̾s̝͛ ̛͚ň̖͢͞o̜̫͋͒t ̝͕̇͝Y̪͂OÜ̠̯͞R̟̲̓̾S͍̻̀̽,̠̬̌͂ J̲̍ọ̚n͈͎͛̔es̡̿! ̛̻S̜͋h͚̙̽̔ě̠̹̍ ͇̿ḏ̩̀͝ì͖d̜͋ ̥͒̀͟n̫̙̅͊ǒ͆͜ͅt̳̾ ̟̘̈͝s̢̠̐͑i͇͋n̛͉̞͒ḱ͕̝̾ ̪̞͊͝in̼̩̏̕ ̥̈́̋͜y̬̕o̢̬͋̊ū̧̹̍ṟ͗ ̱͌ḍ̮͂̿ọ͑m̠͋ä̧͍̎in, ̙͘s̼̥̊͘h̨͙͒͝e ̰̼̎͝sȃ͍̀͜n̯̦̓͝k͕͂ ̂͜in͉̆ ͓͠MI̢͑N̐͜E̥̩̓͞!̣̱̈͡"
"But she is of my--"
"S̳̤͍̝̫̮͗̔̈͂̈́͗H̰̖̣̜̮̤̺̗͖̣̀̉̎͗̐̑͗̏͠͝Ȩ̢͕̭̗̣̤̭̅̂̉̂͑̎́̚͡ͅ ̡̜͍̘̰͎̜͖̆̒͂̽̔̃͆͊Í̡̼̬̹̼̠͔̏̍͊̈͞͝Ş̛̥͖͎̻̩̪̂̓̍̄̄͛͘͜ ̡̨͍̲͍̩̦̥̞͍͛̆̇̀̍͒̿̐̕͝M͓̣̱̺̞̳̭͕̿͆͌̄͊͑̐̌̚ͅI̧̧̞͈͋̾́̆N͚̫͓͉̣̫̬̲̺̦͒͛̅̔̽͗̃̔́͞Ē̢̡̧̙͎̥̺͙͈͋̍̅̉̓̿͊̀,̧̲͇̱̙͔̹̘̼̖̪̠͛̏̈́̊̇͆̿͌͘͘̚͝ͅ JO̧̗͇̞̜̠͔͙̬̭̤̜͕̿̎͗̒̔̅̂̀̈̕͘͢͡͡͝N̨̰̠̘̻̤̂̍͊͛̌͘Ĕ̡̙͍͎͈͕͖͖̙̈́͌̔̋͒̾̓̀͢S̡̨̨͇͔̥̙̮͍̖͖͈͛̆́̏̀́̓͆͋̐́̉́͜͢͡!̧̤̗͍̔̽͌͘ ̢̧̝̱̠͙͔̱͇͊̑͐̈́̐͌̓͋̊͠ͅ ̥͍̭̺͉̋̓̀̉̃̚͟͡ͅM̟͛Í͓̯̙̠͔̥̣͇͈͇͙̾̐̅́̄͐̀͘̚͞N̨̳̞̙͍̲͙͎͌̅́͂͂̓́͛Ȩ͉̙̱͍͑̎͂̾̾!̻̫͍̘͎̩̪͒̅͂̔͑̂̏"
A deafening crack rang out across the icy plain.
"A͍̋n͔̝̉̓̾͟͢͡d̝̾͘͟ ̡̫̠͖͆̐͡͝h̛̼̩́è̼̞̃r̞̙̯̒͒̽ ͕̤̓͌ŕ̺ȍ̬̞̲̊͡l̮̓ȩ̙͓͇̀̎͑̄ ̪͝i̛̥̤͓͓͒̓͋n̜͆ ͙̌ṱ̥͕͐̇͝h̡̰̻͛̿͠is í̧̺̈́s̹̃ ̜̒ń̨̲̮͍̼̋̍̍͝o̥̜̐͌͢͝ẗ̨́ ̟͡y̫͚̞̫̻̋͑͋́͞et ̩̩̼̽̽͑ǫ̝̱̹̾̐̓̆v̪̫̆͌ḛ̜̭̌͘͝ř̫͍͞.͙̆́͟͠ͅ.̡̜̄͡.̬̫͛͠"
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- Location
- Minot, North Dakota
"Superior, it's said, never gives up her dead when gales of November come early..."
- Location
- Minot, North Dakota
Not necessarily. I think when Sara was trying to come back that same text was used for Jones (who hadn't yet been identified in story then).
Regardless of allegiance, a Great Lakes personification would likely be ancient and powerful.
I guess we have to wait for part two.
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- Location
- Beyond the Unknowable Veil
But we're impatient! We don't want to wait, we want it now!
Hopefully, it won't be too long. Part two is probably going to be shorter than part one... the only reason I released it as a two-parter is because I got sort of writer's blocked on the last portion of the story, and realized I had a natural break point here.
- Location
- Beyond the Unknowable Veil
How horrid! Here, take this chisel and this comically oversized mallet.
Burning Baron
This position needs more entrenching.
- Location
- In here, not out there.
Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings. In the rooms of her ice water mansion.
- Location
- Mountains of Appalachia
"And every man knew, as the Captain did too, twas the Witch of November come stealin'."
Omake: Fast and ready!
Shadows
Sacred Priestess of the Benevolent Dice Gods
- Location
- USS Civilian, DDG-214
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Fast and Ready, Part III
For a moment, the Admiral looked confused.
Then he twitched, and actually looked at her.
"Stout?" he asked, voice suddenly hoarse.
"In the, um, flesh, sir." Stout said, scuffing one boot against the office carpeting. The Admiral blinked, mouth hanging open, before swiveling around in his chair, standing, and marching directly for the well-stocked liquor cabinet off to the side. He pulled out a bottle of bourbon, poured himself two fingers, and knocked it back.
"When did you get back?" he asked.
"A couple of hours ago?" she replied, checking her internal clock and nodding. "About eight, to be exact, sir." she said, and looked down. "Sorry I failed you, sir."
"Failed?" he asked, his tone incredulous. "You stayed afloat long enough for almost half the crew to get to safety!"
Stout looked up, blinking.
"The hit that sunk you blew up your deep mag, Stout! Five-hundred-odd five inch shells plus powder up in a ball of smoke and ash, blew forward VLS to smithereens and tore your bow off! But your bulkheads held long enough for basically everyone who wasn't forward of the superstructure to get free. I'd say you did well - damned well!" he said, face and voice firm.
"Y-yes sir." she stammered. Half her crew had followed her down. That was still a minimum of a hundred and fifty souls who'd found their graves at the bottom of the ocean because she couldn't do what she was built to. The Admiral saw this and sighed.
"Not like I haven't seen that look before," he muttered. He raised his voice back to normal levels. "Have you eaten yet, kid?" he asked, looking pointedly at the plate of half-forgotten food sitting on his desk. Stout's stomach let out an absolutely indecent growl, her cheeks pinking despite herself.
"Uh, no. Do you mind if..?" she asked, and the Admiral waved his assent. Without any further ado, Stout picked up the Chief's Special, three pounds of burger, cheese, bacon and toppings, and proceeded posthaste in its destruction. Admiral Cheatham smirked slightly, picked up his own, rather smaller, burger, and joined her.
Stout was three enormous bites in before she slowed down enough to taste the glorious monstrosity she was devouring.
"Ohmygod." she tried to say, though it came out more like "omguh". THIS IS FOOD?! She bounced in her seat, deep in the throes of absolute culinary bliss. Admiral Cheatham chuckled, and despite himself ruffled Stout's hair, her loose bangs briefly obscuring her vision before she bucked her head and got them out of the way.
She found out, then, that it was incredibly difficult to glare at someone with your mouth stuffed full. Well, at least, do that and have them take you any kind of seriously...
--
Some time later after a thorough and exhausting debrief, Stout's too-heavy footsteps clunk-clunked down the stairs to the dockyards. Behind her, the Admiral's lighter steps followed as they made their way inside. Black paused in her backstroke to wave at them when she saw them, with Blakeley wrapped around her middle, sleepily paddling while positively festooned with faerie damage controlmen busily patching up shrapnel marks.
"Hey Stout, Admiral!" Black called out cheerily. "Blake's awake!" she said, poking the drowsy destroyer escort in one chubby cheek. The little escort looked up and spotted Stout, face lighting up as she came to full wakefulness.
"Stout!" she called out, unmooring herself from Black and paddling over to the edge of the pool. Her Chief Engineer stood on her head and was evidently yelling in her ear, if the tiny high-pitched "OI!"s were anything to go by. Stout somehow found that she knew exactly what he was saying despite that, and chuckled as Blakeley paid him absolutely no mind, pulling herself up out of the pool and launching herself, sopping wet from head to toe, into Stout's arms. The little CHENG grabbed two handfuls of her hair and held on for dear life as she impacted with a solid thump. Stout rocked on her heels, the breath momentarily knocked out of her.
"Hey, that's my escort you're stealing!" Black said, following hot on Blake's heels. Stout rocked a second time as the bigger destroyer smacked into her, and the three of them went down in a heap.
Stout looked up at the Admiral, who was hiding his laughter (ineffectually) behind his hand. "Help?!" she mouthed at him.
"Better get used to it. The older destroyers are used to working in packs, and they behave as such. It's good to see Blakeley this lively again so fast." he said, still laughing. She sighed and resigned herself to her fate, smiling and bringing her new sisters in close. The rapid-but-slowing chugging of their diesels contrasted with the constant near-inaudible whine of her turbines, and the absolutely freaking stuffed state of her stores and fuel reserves left her feeling sluggish and...drowsy…
--
Stout woke up some time later, and for a brief moment wondered what was going on. Her radars kicked to life as she opened her eyes, and felt water licking at her as light waves bounced off her hull. Someone had changed her into a one-piece swimsuit at some point, and she wasn't sure whether that was any kind of a problem or not. She started to move her arms and found she couldn't - Blakeley was moored to one side of her, and Black took up the other. The three of them floated in the pool, warm salt water surrounding them, as one near contiguous nest.
She smiled and looked around, spotting her clothes hung up to dry on a peg on the wall, and next to it was a sticky note that she could just about read without squinting.
Report back to me at 0900 tomorrow. Til then, enjoy your rests. - Admiral C
Stout checked her internal clock and found it to be one in the morning. Her reserves were good. She had nowhere to be for another… seven hours, six if she wanted enough time to make good her fuel burnoff in the in-between.
I can live with that.
She shut everything back down, and returned to her slumber.
Lady Darkhound
Haha, tanks!
- Location
- My very own personal hell
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Named ships at Norfolk, now that the Exetertimes trio have left, are Eldridge, Black, Blakeley, Buchanan, Akron, and Macon. Oh, and a fuck ton of K-class blimps.
EDIT: I may have missed a few, but I've no idea who they might be.
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Omake: Fast and ready! (aka: how can DDGs be this cute?)
Shadows
Sacred Priestess of the Benevolent Dice Gods
- Location
- USS Civilian, DDG-214
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Fast and Ready, Part IV
"Wake up, sleepyhead!" was the call that broke through her slumbering mind. Stout gave an audible groan as she stirred to life, sucking a huge breath of air into her lungs, coming off of single generator ops sluggishly as her other two kicked online. She opened one bleary eye and stared at her current tormentor. Blakeley's face was about two inches from her own, and the cherubic little destroyer-escort was nudging Stout's head with her own in between attempts to rock her.
"Nnnnh, do I have to?" Stout groused. "This is the best yard work I've had done in…" she trailed off, interrupted by an enormous yawn. "Years, at least…"
"C'mon, lazybones…" Black said, tugging her over to the edge of the docks.
"Hey, watch who you're callin' lazybones!" Stout huffed, indignant, which only made her diminutive ancestor grin at her.
"Callin' 'em as I see 'em, lazybones." Black teased, poking her tongue out at Stout. She followed up with a splash of water that doused Stout's head and left her spluttering. Stout blinked away the water in her eyes, scowling.
"So that's how it is." Stout muttered darkly, her eyes glittering. "It is on!" she shouted, tackling Black in a fountain of water. Black squeaked before going under the surface, wriggling like a fish as she got herself free.
Across the pool from them, a mildly annoyed submarine woke up from her perch at the bottom and watched them with at first irritation, and then confusion as she watched the two destroyers thrash about underwater before surfacing. She huffed internally, and shook her head.
Back on the surface, Black and Blakeley were busy giggling and swimming circles around Stout, taking turns splashing her with very respectable waves. Stout counterbatteried with a mighty sweep of her arms that sent what seemed like fully half of the pool up at them, but the two of them weaved and dodged, Black even being so cheeky as to push off of Stout as she passed by her going the opposite direction.
Stout heeled around and kicked off the edge of the pool, launching herself back at them once more, red hair trailing like a coppery banner behind her as her hands stretched out, seeking her target. Blakeley eeped and found herself lifted clear of the water as Stout turned her headlong charge into a flying exit from the pool, slipping on the only-slightly roughened tiling, falling flat on her stern and skidding sideways into the wall with an armful of escort tucked against her chest for protection.
Stout stood and grinned, her prize in her arms.
"Ha! You missed!" Black said, her nose in the air in victory and a wide grin on her face.
"Nope!" Stout said, bouncing Blakeley on her hip. "I got exactly who I was gunning for." she gloated.
Black's eyes narrowed as she started to put two and two together. "Oh you wouldn't." she said, voice dropping.
Stout smirked. "Totally would."
"Don't you dare."
Stout nuzzled Blakeley's cheek with her own, making the little escort giggle. "Mine~" Stout singsonged. Black yelled a battle cry as she surged up out of the water, but Stout was already up the stairs, legs pumping as her gas turbine motors gave it all they had. Blakeley giggled and shrieked as Stout sped out the front doors of Admiralty House, already up to three-quarters ahead full. Her bare feet churned up the lawn as she ran across it, before hitting the street. Black burst out of the house a couple of seconds later, looked around, spotted the fleeing Stout, and took off in hot pursuit.
The three of them blew past a base security car thirty seconds later, only moments apart, and the master-at-arms in the car blinked, straining to see the three swimsuited blurs that had just gone by. He looked at his partner and raised his eyebrow.
"Willing to bet they were doing more than twenty-five."
"Do you really wanna try to run down a squadron of shipgirls, MA2?" the MA3 in the passenger seat asked.
"No, as a matter of fact, I don't."
The trio continued their flank-speed game of chase, giggling all the while as they zipped over the grounds of the base. At long last, with the ocean approaching, Stout veered off and leapt up a lifeguard's tower, climbing the ladder one handedly as the wooden structure creaked and groaned. She set Blakeley down and peered over the edge of the railing at the rapidly approaching cloud of sand that marked Black's imminent arrival.
"That was so much fun!" Blakeley all but shrieked, bouncing to give herself the leverage to pull herself up so she could see over the rails. Stout offered her her interlaced hands, and Blakeley promptly shifted tack, clambering up over Stout to perch on her back, her legs wrapped around Stout's middle and her chin on her shoulder.
Black slowed to a slow jog below, looking up with her hands on her hips and trying to scowl at Stout. She couldn't manage to keep a straight face, and, giggling, tried her luck at a pout, and was only barely more successful. "Hey! I want my Blake back! Stop stealin' all her cuddles!"
"I didn't steal anythin'!" Stout crowed, and turned her head to glance at Blakeley. "Did I?"
"Nope!" Blakeley said with an almost violently firm nod. She grinned at Stout and waved down at Black. "You look really small from alla way up here, sisser!"
"Hey, pipsqueak! Who're you callin' small? You look tiny up there!"
"But I am tiny!"
"...point."
A smug meow grabbed all their attention for a moment, and Stout looked up with her sisters, before staring at the sight before her.
"Is that cat… flying?" she asked incredulously, staring at the blimp-cat.
"Yeah, that's one a' the K-types!" Blakeley said, stretching her hand out in the floating cat's direction. It considered her with cold disdain for a moment, before something like recognition flickered in its little slit-pupiled eyes. It slowly descended and made its way over to her, butting its head against her outstretched hand. She scritched it affectionately behind the ears, and when presented with a belly for rubbing she did so, smiling the whole time. "They're really really good at finding Abyssal subs for us."
"...okay…" Stout said, blinking, reaching out to pet the cat. "But why's it a cat? Why's it an honest to dog ceiling cat?"
"It was too little to manifest a… I guess a blimp-girl? We've got a couple of those around here too!" Blakeley chirped as Black made her way up the ladder. "Akron and Macon!"
"Those airheads." Black said with a roll of her eyes, adding her own hand to the belly rubbing going on, and the K-type purred. "They're both always like 'ohh lookit me I can fly, oooh I'm inna cloud, blowin' up all your botes'. And their skirts-"
"What about their skirts?" Stout asked, eyebrow raised incredulously. "What are they, short?"
"No!" Black said. "That I could get, but they're huge!" she went on, holding her arms all the way out to her sides. "Like, bigger than this huge!"
Stout blinked, and tried to picture it. "But… they fly, right?"
"Yes!"
Stout thought it over, and shook her head. "That wouldn't cover anything! Please please please tell me they wear, like, leggings or something…"
"Not. Always." Black said, her gaze fixed on something in the middle distance.
Stout shook her head again, more slowly. "I don't wanna know, I don't needta know, just… AAAAAGH." she groaned. "THE SENSE, IT MAKES NONE!"
"Welcome to bein' a shipgirl, leave your sanity at the gate!" Blakeley chirped. "That's what Admiral C says, anyway!"
"Admiral C is-" Stout began, then stopped abruptly, checking her internal chronometers. Her eyes went wide as saucers. "Oh crap, it's eight thirty! The Admiral wants to see us at nine!"
The three of them blanched and shared a look.
Then, as one, Black and Stout jumped off the lifeguard tower and sprinted flat out in the direction of the Admiralty House, with a laughing Blakeley clamped to Stout's back the entire way.
Thus it was that thirty minutes later to the second, three shipgirls came skidding into the Admiral's door, the bigger two panting, Stout rather wishing she had thought to procure some clean clothes to wear, given the salt-encrusting her blouse and skirt had undergone the day before. Black misjudged her stopping distance and actually hit the door, smashing her nose (and the rest of her) against the wood hard enough Stout heard it creak.
"...Enter?" came the Admiral's voice from within. Stout shook her head and opened the door, pulling Black back to her feet.
"Hello Admiral!" Black chirped, none the worse for the wear; Stout and Blakeley chimed in nearly in unison.
"Ah, girls, right on time." he said, and gestured at the little meeting area in one corner. Two small sofas were on either side of it, and a coffee carafe of industrial proportions sat on the table between three shipgirl-approved helpings of breakfast. "I heard you woke up and promptly began raising seven kinds of Cain on my base. Thankfully, unlike the last two you kept the property damage down."
All three of them blushed, though none of them had the capacity to feel very ashamed at the moment. "Sorry for makin' your morning interesting, sir."
"My mornings are always interesting, Stout. Now, have a seat and dig in. I'll get started on the briefing while you girls are getting your grub on. We've got some work for you to do." the Admiral said with a kindly smile.
Not needing to be told twice, the girls attacked their breakfast with all the gusto they'd attacked the morning in general with thus far. Blakeley turned out to be a fan of hashbrowns by the bowl full (not the pressed kind, the old-fashioned style), while Black made prodigious amounts of waffles and eggs disappear into her stores. Stout munched through what seemed to be half a pig's worth of bacon, fully content, pausing here and there to sip from a jug of orange juice.
"Alright, girls, so the first order of business is this: pursuant to Navy regulations, Stout is now commissioned as a Lieutenant, Junior Grade. Congrats." he said, tossing her a pair of silver bars. She caught them instinctively, brain reeling mid-bite.
"Fank 'ou sir." she said around a mouthful of waffle.
"Swallow before you speak." the Admiral said with a sigh. Stout blushed a bit and nodded. "Now, moving on. Now that we've got a three-ship division of destroyers here, we're going to be stepping up our patrol duties. We still can't really engage their heavy hitters, but Stout here can dissuade them from getting too close. With that in mind, later today you're all going to go out to investigate some reports of Abyssal activity down by Cape Hatteras. K-types are saying something about a heavy in the area, as well as a couple of subs and tin-cans. Your mission, of course, is to engage and destroy the enemy if you find them - but don't pick fights you can't win. Am I clear?" he asked, his voice firm and his eyes settling on each of them in turn.
Stout nodded.
"We won't let you down, sir!"
- Location
- Canada
So, am i the only one that thinks the Iowa sisters resemble She-Hulk just minus the green skin?
The Witch of November is really more what the most powerful Abyssals wish they could become when they grow up. And she more than likely scares them shitless.
Picture an old-style winter Fae, say, Mab, add split personality, then make one of those a psychotic repeat-offender yandere.
Omake: Doggos!
Admiral_Corgi
The Admiral of the PT Boats
- Location
- The Strange land of Florida
Well folks I've finally gotten this omake part done, I hope ya'll enjoy this.
An Officer and his Dogs part 8
William Corgi's eyes slowly cracked open as he woke up. He could feel that he was warm and that half of him was soaked. As awareness then swiftly returned to him, William realized he was still in one of the repair pools. He was still surrounded by the dogs of Squadron 3 and he still had PT-41 in his lap.
After examining her carefully, the Lieutenant noticed that while she looked a little bit better, she was still very seriously hurt. He briefly wondered how long he had been in the waters and got his answer quickly when he felt some very mild irritation on his stomach and chest area.
After a couple moments of bewilderment he realized what it was causing the irritation he felt. It was the result of prolong contact with diluted gasoline. No doubt from some of the still slowly seeping wounds some of the dogs had.
Taking care to be extremely careful in his actions, William gently nudged a few of the PT Corgi's aside before he very carefully removed PT-41 from his lap. When he went to move her, he held his breath; unsure if he would accidentally reopen something while trying to move her so he could stand up.
When she didn't stir or whimper as he cleared her from his lap. The Lieutenant released the breath he had been holding. Though the irritation he felt on his belly and chest was starting to annoy the hell out of him.
Especially at the junctions between the scarred and unscarred skin of his back and on his sides, it was starting to itch like hell. Though the irritation was only where he had been at the waterline and several inches or so above it.
Checking his watch, William realized that he had been asleep for nearly six and a half hours now. A sigh slipped past his lips as he started to make his way out of the pool.
However he only got three steps away from the PT Corgis of Squadron 3 before he stopped and looked back at them. Part of him wanted to head back to the barracks, shower and change into dry clothes before getting back to his work.
However, another part of him wanted to stay with Squadron 3 and keep a vigilant watch over them and PT-41 in particular. He was deeply worried about 41, she might be healing now but he wanted to be there to help her in case one of her wounds decided to reopen.
It was then that William noticed that the dogs of Squadron 3 had woken. He quietly sucked in a breath through his teeth. "I'm terribly sorry girls; I didn't mean to wake y'all" He apologized to the dogs of squadron 3.
Who only sleepily yawned before they signaled to him with semaphore flags, that they were thankful he stayed with them as long as he had and that he should get back to his duties. He stood there for a moment, unsure if he should actually go.
And then William saw PT-41 make a small movement with her one intact foot. Just slightly pushing it forward just enough to transmit the intent without it hurting her to perform the action, she was telling him to get going.
William closed his eyes with a smile for a moment before he gave the dogs a nod goodbye and then proceeded to leave the repair docks building.
Though as William stepped out of the building, the brisk, even cold winter air rapidly chilled his still very soaked half of his body; the smile on his face faded away. Instead a cold stony expression took the place of the smile he had worn before.
Though many thoughts crossed his mind as he walked back to the PT Boat Barracks, his first and foremost one would be to shower and get into dry clothes. The next thing he'd do after that would be to check both of his pistols, clean, dry and perform maintenance work on them.
After all he didn't want either weapon to jam if a situation arose where he'd need to use them. After that, then he'd get to the paperwork that had certainly piled up while he was away.
Ensign Matilda Jones idly poked at the other half of the Salisbury steak on her plate with a fork. She wasn't able to bring herself to finish eating despite the fact that she was having dinner much later than normal.
A fair number of people on base seemed to be having dinner far later than normal. Given how the mess Hall was fairly crowded despite the fact that the time was almost 2300.
Though that didn't surprise her, not at all given what had transpired earlier today. She was relieved that they weren't under the threat of possible Abyssal invasion anymore. However, she still felt very uneasy. Especially since the all clear wasn't given until a couple of hours ago. Matilda was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she jumped slightly in her seat when she felt someone tap her shoulder.
Looking up she saw Crawford looking at her with a rather concerned expression on his face. "Are you alright Matilda?"
"Not Really Mikey... it's the Lieutenant, he hasn't come out of the repair docks yet and it just makes me think about..." Matilda hesitated for a moment before she took a breath and pushed on. "It makes me wonder just how hurt did some of the dogs in squadron 3 get. But I'm also wondering if William is okay." Matilda took a quiet breath to center and gather her thoughts before she resumed.
"I mean, when he left early this morning with Ellen and the others... his face had that tension in it, like he was about to snap or something." Jones said quietly while thinking back to some of the people she had trained therapy and Service dogs for before she went into the Naval Academy.
Ensign Crawford reached over the table and placed a hand on Matilda's shoulder. "Matilda, I think William's gonna be fine. He's standing watch over his girls, like they do with him." He said in as best of a reassuring tone as he could muster. While he had his own concerns about the lieutenant's state of being, Mitchel decided to keep those concerns to himself for the time being.
"I don't know Mikey... I mean, you saw how the other squadrons were right? I've never seen the dogs look so, tense and worried before." Matilda whispered quietly, her doubts not quite completely cleared away despite Crawford's attempt.
The morale in the PT Boat Barracks had slumped quite a bit when Sanderson, Banks and Sandbar had returned and spoke of the condition of PT-41. Crawford was rather glad that the XO had quickly taken charge of the situation and got everyone busy before morale could sink any further. But now that everyone has time to sit and think about what happened. He knew there was a good chance that morale could dip down once more, if not among the support staff, then certainly amongst the dogs.
Crawford knew that despite however much he, Matilda, or really anyone else in the unit except for Clayton worried about William. It didn't hold a candle to how the rest of the PT Corgis worried about the Lt. Honestly to Crawford, the dog's mood reminded him of a bunch of little girls being worried and concerned for their father's wellbeing.
However before he could say anything else to Matilda, the sounds of a few trays setting down at their table made both Ensigns jump. Looking in the direction of the sound, they both did a double take for they saw three people sitting down at the table.
Gunnery Sergeant Clayton, Sergeant Banks, and a third man that the two quickly realized was Lieutenant Gallow. The expressions on all three men's faces set the two Ensigns on edge.
"We overheard y'all talking about Lt. Corgi. It just so happened that we were talking about him as well. And the three of us share Ensign Jones' sentiment; we're worried about William and what he's going to do in the wake of this." Gallow said with a grim tone as he, Clayton and Banks all took a seat at the table.
Matilda looked at the three men for a few silent seconds before her curiosity finally made her speak up and shatter the silence that had fallen over the five of them. "Sergeant Banks and Gunnery Sergeant Clayton being worried about William I can understand. But, I don't quite get why you'd be worried about what Lt. Corgi's going to do, Lieutenant Gallow." Matilda said before she realized a split second later that Lt. Gallow, Sergeant Banks and Gunnery Sergeant Clayton could very easily take her statement the wrong way.
A mortified expression and a flustered blush crossed Matilda's face. "I, uh, didn't mean any disrespect to Lieutenant Corgi or y-you Lieutenant Gallow! I j-just was curious about h-how you know my CO." She stammered out while trying her best to not sound as panicked as she was currently feeling. For a moment, she thought she had made a very big mistake and was about to get reamed by Lt. Gallow.
However, after a moment passed the stony expression that was on his face melted into a vaguely sympathetic smile. "That's alright Ensign, it's been a damn long day for all of us and for you especially, the both of you-" Gallow briefly paused as he looked over to Ensign Crawford "-because among many other things. You both saw a side of William you never really saw before, but you have heard countless amounts of scuttlebutt about since you arrived to his unit. Am I wrong?" The way Gallow had asked the question and the matter-of-fact manner in which he had correctly deduced that the Ensigns had heard the rumors about William, made the hairs on both Jones' and Crawford's necks stand up.
Crawford was especially flabbergasted by the other Lieutenant's deduction, however before he could open his mouth to say anything. He was silenced when Gallow raised his hand up in a clear 'I'm not done talking yet' gesture.
"Anyways, to answer your question Ensign Jones; I know William from back before we started having our Shipgirls, PT Corgis and Blimpcats return with any sense of regularity. I was the XO for a squadron of five Dauntless Sea Ark 34-foot patrol boats based here that William was given command of, about seven months after the war began." Gallow said before he took a breath and sighed.
"William's a good squadron leader, did a damn fine job at marshaling the rest of us to get on with our duties despite how fucked just about everything we ever knew became." Gallow briefly paused before he faintly frowned.
"Though William was a bit of a hardass about preparedness. When we weren't doing patrols or training exercises, he'd do scarily thorough inspections on our boats and kit. Just to make sure we were at peak readiness if we had to engage the enemy." Dominic said with a brief half chuckle before resuming.
"I and the other Junior Officers commanding the other boats in our little squadron, which was another LTJG and a pair of Ensigns due to the manpower shortages the Navy had right after Blood Week. We knew something wasn't quite right with our squadron leader. Granted, it took us almost two months to figure that out. However, when we did figure out something wasn't right with William; the rest of the junior officers agreed on me being the one to approach the Lieutenant and get some answers, since I was the squadron XO and all that." Gallow paused once more as the memories of that talk came back to him.
Gallow's jaw tensed for a moment and then relaxed again before he resumed. "I'll tell ya, that talk was perhaps one of the scariest moments of my life. Started out innocent enough, but as it went on…two things became very clear to me."
Dominic shivered as image of William's eyes that day rushed to the forefront of his mind, then after a moment he continued. "One was his hatred of the Abyssals. Good god, while I've seen hatred before in a person's eyes; not even the most hateful look I ever had directed at me could compare to the hate I saw in William's eyes as he described what he saw those things that man those monsters do to his shipmates in the water."
Clayton, Banks and the two Ensigns didn't speak as Lieutenant Gallow took a moment to find the words to say next. "Their intensity was like looking at the sun…my grandmother once told me that a person's eyes can look very different when their emotions are in an extreme. When William told me his steadfast wish was to kill every last one of those monsters for what they did to his shipmates, for what they did to him." Gallow paused as the image of what had happened next reentered his mind.
"And then he showed me the scars he had from that day, scars that nobody in the entire squadron realized he had… I swear the man's eyes had turned a yellow color from his rage and hate. Yet he never once raised his voice that whole time, if anything as he went on; his voice got quieter and icier till it felt like it could freeze Hell itself over."
It was at this point that Matilda found her voice and spoke up despite the fact she was quite literally shaking with fear. "A-and t-the other thing y-you learned a-about the L-lieutenant?" She barely managed to stammer out. She briefly looked over to Crawford and noticed that his face was pale and his hands shook ever so slightly. She then looked back to Gallow, who seemed a lot more collected now.
"The other thing that I learned was that he cared deeply for the people he commanded. It was strange, seeing his entire attitude go 180 like that. That change made me realize that despite his anger and hatred towards the Abyss, it hadn't consumed him entirely." Gallow said and watched the two ensigns visible relax for the most part.
"However" and he saw them coil back up with tension again "That didn't mean that William didn't push himself too far. Sleepless nights, constantly checking to make sure his sidearm was ready to go. You almost could say the man was married to the thing from how he always kept it on hand. And the work, good god the man never stopped doing work it seemed." Those statements caused the Ensigns to relax, but only fractionally because they realized that to some extent, they saw this behavior in William still.
"So, how do we help him right now?" Crawford asked Gallow, Banks and Clayton. He didn't want to just sit here and worry about the Lt; he wanted to help the man. Or see to it that he got help.
"Maybe we could try to get him to visit a psychiatrist?" Matilda forwarded with a hopeful expression on her face. An expression that swiftly fell as Banks, Gallow and Clayton all shook their heads side to side sadly at the idea she forwarded.
"We tried that before in the past, twice. Didn't really help him either time-" Clayton started to say before Banks interrupted him.
"That second time actually did get somewhere Clayton."
"Sergeant Banks that second time doesn't really count because the only real advice the psychiatrist was able to give to William was for him to spend more time with the dogs, even though they already make it a point to try and spend as much time with him whenever and wherever possible." The Gunnery Sergeant said in a low whisper. While they were in a more secluded place in the mess hall, they still didn't want to be too loud now.
"What about a karaoke night? Maybe that could pull his mind away from things?" Crawford said which made Gallow rub his chin as he thought about the idea.
"Yeah, that could possibly work. The tricky part is going to be trying to get him out of the office, but it could work. Hell I remember when I served under him we managed to drag him to a karaoke bar a couple times before in the past. He's got a fairly decent singing voice and he always seemed to have a better mood for a few days afterwards." Dominic said as Clayton gave a nod of approval.
"Shouldn't we probably contact his family too? Tell them what the situation with William is?" Crawford suggested once more, his time as a cop influencing the idea. Though Crawford grimaced as he saw the expression on Clayton's face change to one as if though he had just eaten bad food or drank spoiled milk.
"No" Clayton practically spat the word out before taking a moment to compose himself and more importantly, speak quietly. "The backlash that'd bring from William…yeah that would get ugly fast. Don't bring his family into something he considers his problem and not theirs…His folks and two Siblings are worried enough about him as it stands. You make em freak, you'll make him snap." Clayton said with a small shudder.
"Maybe get the Admiral to forcibly make him take a small vacation?" Matilda said somewhat sheepishly before promptly wilting under the gazes of the other men at the table who weren't Crawford.
"Yeah that won't work. Like, that'll backfire completely. William isn't the kind of man to just let something go if someone puts him on a vacation." Gallow said rather flatly to Matilda. From the Lieutenant's tone, Matilda realized that Gallow was speaking from experience.
After a brief minute of silence an idea crossed Crawford's mind, one he figured might work. "What if we give him a hand with his work? Shoulder some of the burden so he ain't carrying it all alone? Could it work?" The former police K-9 handler asked the other three men. They all gave Crawford's suggestion a moment's thought before they nodded their heads in approval.
"Yeah that could work, but we'd need to make sure we don't neglect our own duties. Otherwise William will get on us about that." Clayton said somewhat wearily.
"That could work, but there's not much I can do there. Since my duty post is vastly different from what y'all are doing." Gallow said in a rather sheepish tone. Clayton gave the other Navy Lieutenant a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
It was then that another idea crossed Matilda Jones' mind, one that was probably crazy enough to work. She tapped her finger against the table hard enough to get the attention of the other occupants.
"How about getting a ship girl involved? If we think the Lt is pushing himself way too far, maybe a ship girl will be able to reach him and talk some sense into him. Get him to ease up some." She noticed that everyone at the table was now looking at her very intently.
Matilda took a moment to push down her sudden unease and explain her reasoning for the idea. "I mean I've heard from the grapevine that's what happened with Admiral Richardson and Battleship Hiei. So it's worth a shot right?" She spoke with a somewhat unsure voice now that she said the reasoning for the idea aloud.
Clayton looked at her for a few moments as he thought it over before he grinned slightly. "That could work, it'd probably be a last resort, but it could very well work. Though the big question then is who would have the best chance of reaching through to him?" The Gunnery Sergeant as he rubbed the faint stubble of his chin.
They'd go on for almost another hour discussing which ship girl stationed currently in the Gulf would have the best chance of talking sense into the Lieutenant.
Private First Class Lisa Ellen was at the base's main supply depot. Picking up replacements for the medical supplies she had used to treat the wounded dogs of Squadron 3. She was still a bit shocked that of the amount of medical supplies she had used, two thirds of it had gone into patching up PT-41 alone.
She wasn't alone at the Supply Sergeant's desk, PFC Sandbar and WA-5 Sanderson where there with her. Though she knew they were making a run at picking up damage control tools and supplies to help Desmond and Lake with repairing Squadron 3's damaged rigging vests.
Yet despite their presence, she still felt fairly alone. Especially as she thought back to earlier in the day, when she and the lieutenant were working on Squadron 3, when she swore she saw William's eyes turn a pale yellow color for a brief moment.
Lisa shuddered as the image of the Lieutenant's eyes in that moment came to the forefront of her mind. Had she really seen that? Was it just a trick of the lighting in the room? Or perhaps it was a result of the stress she was under making her see things? She wasn't sure and that worried her greatly.
Ellen jolted when she felt someone touch her shoulder, whipping her head around she saw that it was PFC Sandbar. "Lisa, are you alright there? You look like something's weighing down on ya something fierce." Sandbar said with a worried tone.
Ellen sighed and looked to her feet briefly before she looked up and met Raphael's eyes. "I'm just thinking about PT-41. I'm wondering if she's gonna be okay…" She trailed off before sighing.
"I've never seen a PT Corgi so damaged before. Honestly, there were a few points where I thought I was gonna lose her." While what she said wasn't a lie, However it wasn't what was really bothering her either.
Sandbar gave Ellen a small squeeze on the shoulder and a reassuring smile. "Well Ellen, you saved 41 in the end. You and the Lieutenant both did."
Ellen was at a loss of words for a few moments before then gave Raphael a small smile. "Yeah we did. I just hope the Lt's gonna be alright from all of this. I mean if I didn't know any better, I'd say that he treats those dogs as though they were his daughters." Ellen said a bit jokingly. Sandbar chuckled at the remark.
However, Sanderson looked at the two marines with a somewhat impassive expression on his face. "Actually Lisa, you aren't far off the mark there. I mean the dogs have more or less adopted him as their collective dad boat."
Upon hearing Sanderson's remark, Ellen and Sandbar's quiet chuckles died in their throats. An expression of disbelief crossed Sandbar's face, while an expression of terror crossed Ellen's face.
Sanderson rubbed his temples with one hand and sighed. "This means like any father, he's going to do his damned best to find where the responsible party for hurting his girls has gone off to and well, do what you'd expect an angry dad to do."
"Oh hell…" Sandbar muttered quietly. Ellen on the other hand began to faintly tremble with fear as she finally realized what that other emotion was she had seen in William's eyes. It was a determined and completely focused wrath.
Her realization was doubly confirmed when Sanderson spoke again. "So the sooner we can get Squadron 3 back to full operational status. The sooner William's wrath will settle down." Sanderson spoke with a degree of resignation in his voice.
"In the meantime, I suggest you let the dogs or Clayton try handling William directly." The WA-5 cautioned the PFC's before the supply Sergeant returned with two other people carrying various boxes of supplies.
Sanderson and Sandbar loaded up the tools and various other supplies onto a dolly they brought with them before they departed to the equipment and maintenance building. Ellen grabbed the small crate of assorted medical supplies and started carrying it towards the repair docks. She had a patient to check up on after all and it'd save her making a couple trips between the Barracks building and the repair docks if she brought this crate with her to the docks.
When Lieutenant William Corgi entered the PT boat barracks, he didn't find anyone there besides the dogs of the day patrols. He briefly gave them some head pats before he went off to shower.
After he came out, dried off and got dressed again; William then went about completely stripping down and cleaning both of his pistols. He didn't need anything in either weapon to corrode or jam after all. It didn't take long for him to complete the task, though he did place the Desert Eagle and its accessories back inside its custom pelican case before putting the case back up.
With the task done, William left his quarters and stepped out into the Barracks proper. When he noticed that no one had returned to the barracks yet, he headed to his office and stepped inside.
He saw waiting for him on his desk was a somewhat sizable amount of paperwork. A closer inspection revealed that it was post-patrol and post-battle reports. Further inspection revealed that some of the reports were from squadron 3, while other reports were from the Shipgirls that had sortied to cover Squadron 3's retreat.
The rest others were from the patrols that had sortied and returned while he had been with Squadron 3 at the repair docks. A small smile tugged at the corners of William's lips, Jim must have been the one who collected all of these reports and sorted them out by type if the sticky notes on the side of the stack with the Gunny's fluid cursive handwriting were any indication.
William sighed as he sat down at his desk, though before he grabbed the first report off of the pile and started reading it. He heard his stomach growl. "Right, I haven't eaten anything all day." He quietly muttered to himself as he opened up one of his desk drawers and pulled out a protein bar.
After tearing the package open and taking a few hearty bites out of the bar, he briefly paused with an amused smirk on his face after swallowing. "Well Clayton, I guess I can say I'm glad you insisted that I keep a box of these in one of my desk drawers." William quietly said before he finished off the protein bar and tossed the wrapper into the small garbage can he kept in his office.
Now with his rumbling stomach taken care of, William plucked the first sheet of paper off of the pile and began reading the post-battle reports. However as he read them, a realization started to dawn on him.
A realization that some of the mine laying forces, and even possibly some of what was escorting them had escaped. By the time he had gotten to the last post-battle report, Atago's. He was thoroughly convinced that some of the Abyssal forces had escaped.
The mere thought of some of the bastards responsible for hurting his dogs, responsible for laying the mines that had claimed over three dozen lives during the past week; had escaped their deserved execution. It made the Lieutenant's blood boil with anger.
He finished reading the last of the post-battle reports and before he opened up the central drawer of his desk. Looking around briefly, he pulled out a box of specially colored and marked push-pins as well as a few spools of colored string.
Carefully placing the post-battle reports in a separate pile from the rest of the reports on his desk, William took the pins and string and walked over to the wall mounted map board and placed them down on top of a filing cabinet.
He then took a picture of the map with his phone before he grabbed a small empty cardboard box that was sitting in one of the spare chairs and cleared off all the existing pins on the map.
With the map now clear, he walked back to his desk and picked up the stack of post battle reports before returning to the map. He then began the tedious process of marking down with pins where what was located, and marking down their directions of travel with the colored strings.
William color-coded the pins and strings to represent abyssal ships, ship girls, abyssal fast attack boats and the dogs.
After a good ten minutes, he could visually see that there was at least two sizable gaps were minelayers or their escorts could have broken off contact and slipped away in the night.
However, William knew that just because there was two possible ways for some of the enemy to have broken contact and escape, didn't mean that any had. Though he just couldn't dismiss the suspicion that some had indeed escaped.
For he suspected the amount of minelayers that were sunk didn't match up to the number required to equal the rate at which the number of mines had been increasing in the days prior to what happened last night.
As William stared at the map he felt his anger slowly rising more and more until it stuck a critical point. Where then his anger transformed from a hot fiery rage to a cold methodical fury.
They might have hurt the abyssal bastards, but they failed to kill em all. He rightfully feared that the next time this particular force was encountered again; it'd be stronger than before.
"Not unless we find and sink the bastards before they have a chance to recover first that is." William muttered quietly to himself.
After a few minutes of silently thinking and fuming on the matter, William walked back to his desk to go through the patrol reports and write up their respective comprehensive reports. He also filed requests to get copies of the patrol reports written by the various helicopter and fighter jet pilots that were sortied last night.
He was certain that there were survivors of the Abyssal force that had been mining the region, and neither Hell nor high water was going to stop him from finding out where they could have possibly went to hide. And he silently swore to himself that when he found them, he'd do everything possible at his rank to see to it that those Abyssals were sunk.
"None of you bastards will escape your execution." William quietly said to himself with a voice so full of cold fury that if there was another soul in his office at that moment. They would have sworn the room fell a full five degrees in temperature.
An Officer and his Dogs part 8
[=]
William Corgi's eyes slowly cracked open as he woke up. He could feel that he was warm and that half of him was soaked. As awareness then swiftly returned to him, William realized he was still in one of the repair pools. He was still surrounded by the dogs of Squadron 3 and he still had PT-41 in his lap.
After examining her carefully, the Lieutenant noticed that while she looked a little bit better, she was still very seriously hurt. He briefly wondered how long he had been in the waters and got his answer quickly when he felt some very mild irritation on his stomach and chest area.
After a couple moments of bewilderment he realized what it was causing the irritation he felt. It was the result of prolong contact with diluted gasoline. No doubt from some of the still slowly seeping wounds some of the dogs had.
Taking care to be extremely careful in his actions, William gently nudged a few of the PT Corgi's aside before he very carefully removed PT-41 from his lap. When he went to move her, he held his breath; unsure if he would accidentally reopen something while trying to move her so he could stand up.
When she didn't stir or whimper as he cleared her from his lap. The Lieutenant released the breath he had been holding. Though the irritation he felt on his belly and chest was starting to annoy the hell out of him.
Especially at the junctions between the scarred and unscarred skin of his back and on his sides, it was starting to itch like hell. Though the irritation was only where he had been at the waterline and several inches or so above it.
Checking his watch, William realized that he had been asleep for nearly six and a half hours now. A sigh slipped past his lips as he started to make his way out of the pool.
However he only got three steps away from the PT Corgis of Squadron 3 before he stopped and looked back at them. Part of him wanted to head back to the barracks, shower and change into dry clothes before getting back to his work.
However, another part of him wanted to stay with Squadron 3 and keep a vigilant watch over them and PT-41 in particular. He was deeply worried about 41, she might be healing now but he wanted to be there to help her in case one of her wounds decided to reopen.
It was then that William noticed that the dogs of Squadron 3 had woken. He quietly sucked in a breath through his teeth. "I'm terribly sorry girls; I didn't mean to wake y'all" He apologized to the dogs of squadron 3.
Who only sleepily yawned before they signaled to him with semaphore flags, that they were thankful he stayed with them as long as he had and that he should get back to his duties. He stood there for a moment, unsure if he should actually go.
And then William saw PT-41 make a small movement with her one intact foot. Just slightly pushing it forward just enough to transmit the intent without it hurting her to perform the action, she was telling him to get going.
William closed his eyes with a smile for a moment before he gave the dogs a nod goodbye and then proceeded to leave the repair docks building.
Though as William stepped out of the building, the brisk, even cold winter air rapidly chilled his still very soaked half of his body; the smile on his face faded away. Instead a cold stony expression took the place of the smile he had worn before.
Though many thoughts crossed his mind as he walked back to the PT Boat Barracks, his first and foremost one would be to shower and get into dry clothes. The next thing he'd do after that would be to check both of his pistols, clean, dry and perform maintenance work on them.
After all he didn't want either weapon to jam if a situation arose where he'd need to use them. After that, then he'd get to the paperwork that had certainly piled up while he was away.
[=]
Ensign Matilda Jones idly poked at the other half of the Salisbury steak on her plate with a fork. She wasn't able to bring herself to finish eating despite the fact that she was having dinner much later than normal.
A fair number of people on base seemed to be having dinner far later than normal. Given how the mess Hall was fairly crowded despite the fact that the time was almost 2300.
Though that didn't surprise her, not at all given what had transpired earlier today. She was relieved that they weren't under the threat of possible Abyssal invasion anymore. However, she still felt very uneasy. Especially since the all clear wasn't given until a couple of hours ago. Matilda was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she jumped slightly in her seat when she felt someone tap her shoulder.
Looking up she saw Crawford looking at her with a rather concerned expression on his face. "Are you alright Matilda?"
"Not Really Mikey... it's the Lieutenant, he hasn't come out of the repair docks yet and it just makes me think about..." Matilda hesitated for a moment before she took a breath and pushed on. "It makes me wonder just how hurt did some of the dogs in squadron 3 get. But I'm also wondering if William is okay." Matilda took a quiet breath to center and gather her thoughts before she resumed.
"I mean, when he left early this morning with Ellen and the others... his face had that tension in it, like he was about to snap or something." Jones said quietly while thinking back to some of the people she had trained therapy and Service dogs for before she went into the Naval Academy.
Ensign Crawford reached over the table and placed a hand on Matilda's shoulder. "Matilda, I think William's gonna be fine. He's standing watch over his girls, like they do with him." He said in as best of a reassuring tone as he could muster. While he had his own concerns about the lieutenant's state of being, Mitchel decided to keep those concerns to himself for the time being.
"I don't know Mikey... I mean, you saw how the other squadrons were right? I've never seen the dogs look so, tense and worried before." Matilda whispered quietly, her doubts not quite completely cleared away despite Crawford's attempt.
The morale in the PT Boat Barracks had slumped quite a bit when Sanderson, Banks and Sandbar had returned and spoke of the condition of PT-41. Crawford was rather glad that the XO had quickly taken charge of the situation and got everyone busy before morale could sink any further. But now that everyone has time to sit and think about what happened. He knew there was a good chance that morale could dip down once more, if not among the support staff, then certainly amongst the dogs.
Crawford knew that despite however much he, Matilda, or really anyone else in the unit except for Clayton worried about William. It didn't hold a candle to how the rest of the PT Corgis worried about the Lt. Honestly to Crawford, the dog's mood reminded him of a bunch of little girls being worried and concerned for their father's wellbeing.
However before he could say anything else to Matilda, the sounds of a few trays setting down at their table made both Ensigns jump. Looking in the direction of the sound, they both did a double take for they saw three people sitting down at the table.
Gunnery Sergeant Clayton, Sergeant Banks, and a third man that the two quickly realized was Lieutenant Gallow. The expressions on all three men's faces set the two Ensigns on edge.
"We overheard y'all talking about Lt. Corgi. It just so happened that we were talking about him as well. And the three of us share Ensign Jones' sentiment; we're worried about William and what he's going to do in the wake of this." Gallow said with a grim tone as he, Clayton and Banks all took a seat at the table.
Matilda looked at the three men for a few silent seconds before her curiosity finally made her speak up and shatter the silence that had fallen over the five of them. "Sergeant Banks and Gunnery Sergeant Clayton being worried about William I can understand. But, I don't quite get why you'd be worried about what Lt. Corgi's going to do, Lieutenant Gallow." Matilda said before she realized a split second later that Lt. Gallow, Sergeant Banks and Gunnery Sergeant Clayton could very easily take her statement the wrong way.
A mortified expression and a flustered blush crossed Matilda's face. "I, uh, didn't mean any disrespect to Lieutenant Corgi or y-you Lieutenant Gallow! I j-just was curious about h-how you know my CO." She stammered out while trying her best to not sound as panicked as she was currently feeling. For a moment, she thought she had made a very big mistake and was about to get reamed by Lt. Gallow.
However, after a moment passed the stony expression that was on his face melted into a vaguely sympathetic smile. "That's alright Ensign, it's been a damn long day for all of us and for you especially, the both of you-" Gallow briefly paused as he looked over to Ensign Crawford "-because among many other things. You both saw a side of William you never really saw before, but you have heard countless amounts of scuttlebutt about since you arrived to his unit. Am I wrong?" The way Gallow had asked the question and the matter-of-fact manner in which he had correctly deduced that the Ensigns had heard the rumors about William, made the hairs on both Jones' and Crawford's necks stand up.
Crawford was especially flabbergasted by the other Lieutenant's deduction, however before he could open his mouth to say anything. He was silenced when Gallow raised his hand up in a clear 'I'm not done talking yet' gesture.
"Anyways, to answer your question Ensign Jones; I know William from back before we started having our Shipgirls, PT Corgis and Blimpcats return with any sense of regularity. I was the XO for a squadron of five Dauntless Sea Ark 34-foot patrol boats based here that William was given command of, about seven months after the war began." Gallow said before he took a breath and sighed.
"William's a good squadron leader, did a damn fine job at marshaling the rest of us to get on with our duties despite how fucked just about everything we ever knew became." Gallow briefly paused before he faintly frowned.
"Though William was a bit of a hardass about preparedness. When we weren't doing patrols or training exercises, he'd do scarily thorough inspections on our boats and kit. Just to make sure we were at peak readiness if we had to engage the enemy." Dominic said with a brief half chuckle before resuming.
"I and the other Junior Officers commanding the other boats in our little squadron, which was another LTJG and a pair of Ensigns due to the manpower shortages the Navy had right after Blood Week. We knew something wasn't quite right with our squadron leader. Granted, it took us almost two months to figure that out. However, when we did figure out something wasn't right with William; the rest of the junior officers agreed on me being the one to approach the Lieutenant and get some answers, since I was the squadron XO and all that." Gallow paused once more as the memories of that talk came back to him.
Gallow's jaw tensed for a moment and then relaxed again before he resumed. "I'll tell ya, that talk was perhaps one of the scariest moments of my life. Started out innocent enough, but as it went on…two things became very clear to me."
Dominic shivered as image of William's eyes that day rushed to the forefront of his mind, then after a moment he continued. "One was his hatred of the Abyssals. Good god, while I've seen hatred before in a person's eyes; not even the most hateful look I ever had directed at me could compare to the hate I saw in William's eyes as he described what he saw those things that man those monsters do to his shipmates in the water."
Clayton, Banks and the two Ensigns didn't speak as Lieutenant Gallow took a moment to find the words to say next. "Their intensity was like looking at the sun…my grandmother once told me that a person's eyes can look very different when their emotions are in an extreme. When William told me his steadfast wish was to kill every last one of those monsters for what they did to his shipmates, for what they did to him." Gallow paused as the image of what had happened next reentered his mind.
"And then he showed me the scars he had from that day, scars that nobody in the entire squadron realized he had… I swear the man's eyes had turned a yellow color from his rage and hate. Yet he never once raised his voice that whole time, if anything as he went on; his voice got quieter and icier till it felt like it could freeze Hell itself over."
It was at this point that Matilda found her voice and spoke up despite the fact she was quite literally shaking with fear. "A-and t-the other thing y-you learned a-about the L-lieutenant?" She barely managed to stammer out. She briefly looked over to Crawford and noticed that his face was pale and his hands shook ever so slightly. She then looked back to Gallow, who seemed a lot more collected now.
"The other thing that I learned was that he cared deeply for the people he commanded. It was strange, seeing his entire attitude go 180 like that. That change made me realize that despite his anger and hatred towards the Abyss, it hadn't consumed him entirely." Gallow said and watched the two ensigns visible relax for the most part.
"However" and he saw them coil back up with tension again "That didn't mean that William didn't push himself too far. Sleepless nights, constantly checking to make sure his sidearm was ready to go. You almost could say the man was married to the thing from how he always kept it on hand. And the work, good god the man never stopped doing work it seemed." Those statements caused the Ensigns to relax, but only fractionally because they realized that to some extent, they saw this behavior in William still.
"So, how do we help him right now?" Crawford asked Gallow, Banks and Clayton. He didn't want to just sit here and worry about the Lt; he wanted to help the man. Or see to it that he got help.
"Maybe we could try to get him to visit a psychiatrist?" Matilda forwarded with a hopeful expression on her face. An expression that swiftly fell as Banks, Gallow and Clayton all shook their heads side to side sadly at the idea she forwarded.
"We tried that before in the past, twice. Didn't really help him either time-" Clayton started to say before Banks interrupted him.
"That second time actually did get somewhere Clayton."
"Sergeant Banks that second time doesn't really count because the only real advice the psychiatrist was able to give to William was for him to spend more time with the dogs, even though they already make it a point to try and spend as much time with him whenever and wherever possible." The Gunnery Sergeant said in a low whisper. While they were in a more secluded place in the mess hall, they still didn't want to be too loud now.
"What about a karaoke night? Maybe that could pull his mind away from things?" Crawford said which made Gallow rub his chin as he thought about the idea.
"Yeah, that could possibly work. The tricky part is going to be trying to get him out of the office, but it could work. Hell I remember when I served under him we managed to drag him to a karaoke bar a couple times before in the past. He's got a fairly decent singing voice and he always seemed to have a better mood for a few days afterwards." Dominic said as Clayton gave a nod of approval.
"Shouldn't we probably contact his family too? Tell them what the situation with William is?" Crawford suggested once more, his time as a cop influencing the idea. Though Crawford grimaced as he saw the expression on Clayton's face change to one as if though he had just eaten bad food or drank spoiled milk.
"No" Clayton practically spat the word out before taking a moment to compose himself and more importantly, speak quietly. "The backlash that'd bring from William…yeah that would get ugly fast. Don't bring his family into something he considers his problem and not theirs…His folks and two Siblings are worried enough about him as it stands. You make em freak, you'll make him snap." Clayton said with a small shudder.
"Maybe get the Admiral to forcibly make him take a small vacation?" Matilda said somewhat sheepishly before promptly wilting under the gazes of the other men at the table who weren't Crawford.
"Yeah that won't work. Like, that'll backfire completely. William isn't the kind of man to just let something go if someone puts him on a vacation." Gallow said rather flatly to Matilda. From the Lieutenant's tone, Matilda realized that Gallow was speaking from experience.
After a brief minute of silence an idea crossed Crawford's mind, one he figured might work. "What if we give him a hand with his work? Shoulder some of the burden so he ain't carrying it all alone? Could it work?" The former police K-9 handler asked the other three men. They all gave Crawford's suggestion a moment's thought before they nodded their heads in approval.
"Yeah that could work, but we'd need to make sure we don't neglect our own duties. Otherwise William will get on us about that." Clayton said somewhat wearily.
"That could work, but there's not much I can do there. Since my duty post is vastly different from what y'all are doing." Gallow said in a rather sheepish tone. Clayton gave the other Navy Lieutenant a sympathetic pat on the shoulder.
It was then that another idea crossed Matilda Jones' mind, one that was probably crazy enough to work. She tapped her finger against the table hard enough to get the attention of the other occupants.
"How about getting a ship girl involved? If we think the Lt is pushing himself way too far, maybe a ship girl will be able to reach him and talk some sense into him. Get him to ease up some." She noticed that everyone at the table was now looking at her very intently.
Matilda took a moment to push down her sudden unease and explain her reasoning for the idea. "I mean I've heard from the grapevine that's what happened with Admiral Richardson and Battleship Hiei. So it's worth a shot right?" She spoke with a somewhat unsure voice now that she said the reasoning for the idea aloud.
Clayton looked at her for a few moments as he thought it over before he grinned slightly. "That could work, it'd probably be a last resort, but it could very well work. Though the big question then is who would have the best chance of reaching through to him?" The Gunnery Sergeant as he rubbed the faint stubble of his chin.
They'd go on for almost another hour discussing which ship girl stationed currently in the Gulf would have the best chance of talking sense into the Lieutenant.
[=]
Private First Class Lisa Ellen was at the base's main supply depot. Picking up replacements for the medical supplies she had used to treat the wounded dogs of Squadron 3. She was still a bit shocked that of the amount of medical supplies she had used, two thirds of it had gone into patching up PT-41 alone.
She wasn't alone at the Supply Sergeant's desk, PFC Sandbar and WA-5 Sanderson where there with her. Though she knew they were making a run at picking up damage control tools and supplies to help Desmond and Lake with repairing Squadron 3's damaged rigging vests.
Yet despite their presence, she still felt fairly alone. Especially as she thought back to earlier in the day, when she and the lieutenant were working on Squadron 3, when she swore she saw William's eyes turn a pale yellow color for a brief moment.
Lisa shuddered as the image of the Lieutenant's eyes in that moment came to the forefront of her mind. Had she really seen that? Was it just a trick of the lighting in the room? Or perhaps it was a result of the stress she was under making her see things? She wasn't sure and that worried her greatly.
Ellen jolted when she felt someone touch her shoulder, whipping her head around she saw that it was PFC Sandbar. "Lisa, are you alright there? You look like something's weighing down on ya something fierce." Sandbar said with a worried tone.
Ellen sighed and looked to her feet briefly before she looked up and met Raphael's eyes. "I'm just thinking about PT-41. I'm wondering if she's gonna be okay…" She trailed off before sighing.
"I've never seen a PT Corgi so damaged before. Honestly, there were a few points where I thought I was gonna lose her." While what she said wasn't a lie, However it wasn't what was really bothering her either.
Sandbar gave Ellen a small squeeze on the shoulder and a reassuring smile. "Well Ellen, you saved 41 in the end. You and the Lieutenant both did."
Ellen was at a loss of words for a few moments before then gave Raphael a small smile. "Yeah we did. I just hope the Lt's gonna be alright from all of this. I mean if I didn't know any better, I'd say that he treats those dogs as though they were his daughters." Ellen said a bit jokingly. Sandbar chuckled at the remark.
However, Sanderson looked at the two marines with a somewhat impassive expression on his face. "Actually Lisa, you aren't far off the mark there. I mean the dogs have more or less adopted him as their collective dad boat."
Upon hearing Sanderson's remark, Ellen and Sandbar's quiet chuckles died in their throats. An expression of disbelief crossed Sandbar's face, while an expression of terror crossed Ellen's face.
Sanderson rubbed his temples with one hand and sighed. "This means like any father, he's going to do his damned best to find where the responsible party for hurting his girls has gone off to and well, do what you'd expect an angry dad to do."
"Oh hell…" Sandbar muttered quietly. Ellen on the other hand began to faintly tremble with fear as she finally realized what that other emotion was she had seen in William's eyes. It was a determined and completely focused wrath.
Her realization was doubly confirmed when Sanderson spoke again. "So the sooner we can get Squadron 3 back to full operational status. The sooner William's wrath will settle down." Sanderson spoke with a degree of resignation in his voice.
"In the meantime, I suggest you let the dogs or Clayton try handling William directly." The WA-5 cautioned the PFC's before the supply Sergeant returned with two other people carrying various boxes of supplies.
Sanderson and Sandbar loaded up the tools and various other supplies onto a dolly they brought with them before they departed to the equipment and maintenance building. Ellen grabbed the small crate of assorted medical supplies and started carrying it towards the repair docks. She had a patient to check up on after all and it'd save her making a couple trips between the Barracks building and the repair docks if she brought this crate with her to the docks.
[=]
When Lieutenant William Corgi entered the PT boat barracks, he didn't find anyone there besides the dogs of the day patrols. He briefly gave them some head pats before he went off to shower.
After he came out, dried off and got dressed again; William then went about completely stripping down and cleaning both of his pistols. He didn't need anything in either weapon to corrode or jam after all. It didn't take long for him to complete the task, though he did place the Desert Eagle and its accessories back inside its custom pelican case before putting the case back up.
With the task done, William left his quarters and stepped out into the Barracks proper. When he noticed that no one had returned to the barracks yet, he headed to his office and stepped inside.
He saw waiting for him on his desk was a somewhat sizable amount of paperwork. A closer inspection revealed that it was post-patrol and post-battle reports. Further inspection revealed that some of the reports were from squadron 3, while other reports were from the Shipgirls that had sortied to cover Squadron 3's retreat.
The rest others were from the patrols that had sortied and returned while he had been with Squadron 3 at the repair docks. A small smile tugged at the corners of William's lips, Jim must have been the one who collected all of these reports and sorted them out by type if the sticky notes on the side of the stack with the Gunny's fluid cursive handwriting were any indication.
William sighed as he sat down at his desk, though before he grabbed the first report off of the pile and started reading it. He heard his stomach growl. "Right, I haven't eaten anything all day." He quietly muttered to himself as he opened up one of his desk drawers and pulled out a protein bar.
After tearing the package open and taking a few hearty bites out of the bar, he briefly paused with an amused smirk on his face after swallowing. "Well Clayton, I guess I can say I'm glad you insisted that I keep a box of these in one of my desk drawers." William quietly said before he finished off the protein bar and tossed the wrapper into the small garbage can he kept in his office.
Now with his rumbling stomach taken care of, William plucked the first sheet of paper off of the pile and began reading the post-battle reports. However as he read them, a realization started to dawn on him.
A realization that some of the mine laying forces, and even possibly some of what was escorting them had escaped. By the time he had gotten to the last post-battle report, Atago's. He was thoroughly convinced that some of the Abyssal forces had escaped.
The mere thought of some of the bastards responsible for hurting his dogs, responsible for laying the mines that had claimed over three dozen lives during the past week; had escaped their deserved execution. It made the Lieutenant's blood boil with anger.
He finished reading the last of the post-battle reports and before he opened up the central drawer of his desk. Looking around briefly, he pulled out a box of specially colored and marked push-pins as well as a few spools of colored string.
Carefully placing the post-battle reports in a separate pile from the rest of the reports on his desk, William took the pins and string and walked over to the wall mounted map board and placed them down on top of a filing cabinet.
He then took a picture of the map with his phone before he grabbed a small empty cardboard box that was sitting in one of the spare chairs and cleared off all the existing pins on the map.
With the map now clear, he walked back to his desk and picked up the stack of post battle reports before returning to the map. He then began the tedious process of marking down with pins where what was located, and marking down their directions of travel with the colored strings.
William color-coded the pins and strings to represent abyssal ships, ship girls, abyssal fast attack boats and the dogs.
After a good ten minutes, he could visually see that there was at least two sizable gaps were minelayers or their escorts could have broken off contact and slipped away in the night.
However, William knew that just because there was two possible ways for some of the enemy to have broken contact and escape, didn't mean that any had. Though he just couldn't dismiss the suspicion that some had indeed escaped.
For he suspected the amount of minelayers that were sunk didn't match up to the number required to equal the rate at which the number of mines had been increasing in the days prior to what happened last night.
As William stared at the map he felt his anger slowly rising more and more until it stuck a critical point. Where then his anger transformed from a hot fiery rage to a cold methodical fury.
They might have hurt the abyssal bastards, but they failed to kill em all. He rightfully feared that the next time this particular force was encountered again; it'd be stronger than before.
"Not unless we find and sink the bastards before they have a chance to recover first that is." William muttered quietly to himself.
After a few minutes of silently thinking and fuming on the matter, William walked back to his desk to go through the patrol reports and write up their respective comprehensive reports. He also filed requests to get copies of the patrol reports written by the various helicopter and fighter jet pilots that were sortied last night.
He was certain that there were survivors of the Abyssal force that had been mining the region, and neither Hell nor high water was going to stop him from finding out where they could have possibly went to hide. And he silently swore to himself that when he found them, he'd do everything possible at his rank to see to it that those Abyssals were sunk.
"None of you bastards will escape your execution." William quietly said to himself with a voice so full of cold fury that if there was another soul in his office at that moment. They would have sworn the room fell a full five degrees in temperature.
[=]
Admiral_Corgi
The Admiral of the PT Boats
- Location
- The Strange land of Florida
Okay folks, I had enough time at the airport before my flight to put this up. While by all means, I have part 9 completed and ready to roll. I'm actually going to wait on posting it until a little bit after @CompassJimbo posts up the next wolfbait omake. If for nothing else then to make any needed last minute adjustments to part 9 before it goes up. In the mean time however, I give you a preview of part 9
...A careless movement from his hand as he reached over for the stapler nearly knocked one of the models he had on his desk off. While he was able to quickly catch the model before it fell to the floor, the papers under it weren't as lucky.
"Ugh that's just fucking great like I needed that to happen." William muttered to himself as he got up from his chair and picked up the scattered papers roughly in the same order they were in originally. Though as his eyes lazily wondered the top most paper, he realized what it was he had knocked off his desk.
The letters that were from his older sister, his parents, his younger brother David, from his family; family he hadn't really spoken with for a little while now. Especially with his younger brother, who was stuck in England since the war started over two years ago.
Sitting back in his office chair and pulling it up a bit closer to the desk. William placed the rest of the letters under the ship model that guarded them, save for the most recent letter from his younger brother. "Damn dork, he knows I can talk over skype or text, but he still sends me these things every now and again." William said with a small chuckle before he read the letter over again.
As William read the letter he thought of his current situation and realized that if his younger brother saw him right now. His current state would have been confirming David's worst fears. The Lieutenant sighed as he felt the built up exhaustion creep up on him.
Placing the letter to the side, he pulled out a sheet of paper and pen. He would at least write a response, to hopefully quell some of his younger brother's fears about his wellbeing. He could write the letter tonight and mail it in the morning after he got some much needed shut eye.
However, as William began writing a response. He felt himself become more and more tired by the minute. So much so that he couldn't really stop himself from dropping his pen before his head slowly came to a rest on top of his desk. "Dammit…William…Ya fell asleep at yer desk again…idiot…" William murmured somewhat angrily to himself before he passed out.
William found himself floating. Floating in a seemingly infinite void of darkness, he wondered if this was going to be another dreamless night of sleep. It would be his first actual sleep in around three days. He silently chided himself for doing that. It wasn't lost on him that he only realized what he was doing had been reckless only after he had passed out at his office desk from exhaustion.
His only solace was that after piecing together all the information that had been gathered from the past three days, as well as from the action that took place when Nachi's group went to bring Squadron 3 home. He had a fairly good idea now where the remains of the mining force had gone, somewhere on the western tip of Cuba.
Which while somewhat worrying, it meant that his vengeance was within reach now. Even in the void he floated in, he felt himself smile as the thought of finding and finishing off those monsters crossed his mind. It gave him a degree of malicious glee.
William was taken by surprise when he felt himself shift in the void, as if though something had grabbed him by the feet and suddenly pulled him downward. An instant after he felt that sensation, he couldn't sense anything. It was all dark, he couldn't even tell where he began and the darkness around him ended...
"Ugh that's just fucking great like I needed that to happen." William muttered to himself as he got up from his chair and picked up the scattered papers roughly in the same order they were in originally. Though as his eyes lazily wondered the top most paper, he realized what it was he had knocked off his desk.
The letters that were from his older sister, his parents, his younger brother David, from his family; family he hadn't really spoken with for a little while now. Especially with his younger brother, who was stuck in England since the war started over two years ago.
Sitting back in his office chair and pulling it up a bit closer to the desk. William placed the rest of the letters under the ship model that guarded them, save for the most recent letter from his younger brother. "Damn dork, he knows I can talk over skype or text, but he still sends me these things every now and again." William said with a small chuckle before he read the letter over again.
As William read the letter he thought of his current situation and realized that if his younger brother saw him right now. His current state would have been confirming David's worst fears. The Lieutenant sighed as he felt the built up exhaustion creep up on him.
Placing the letter to the side, he pulled out a sheet of paper and pen. He would at least write a response, to hopefully quell some of his younger brother's fears about his wellbeing. He could write the letter tonight and mail it in the morning after he got some much needed shut eye.
However, as William began writing a response. He felt himself become more and more tired by the minute. So much so that he couldn't really stop himself from dropping his pen before his head slowly came to a rest on top of his desk. "Dammit…William…Ya fell asleep at yer desk again…idiot…" William murmured somewhat angrily to himself before he passed out.
[=]
William found himself floating. Floating in a seemingly infinite void of darkness, he wondered if this was going to be another dreamless night of sleep. It would be his first actual sleep in around three days. He silently chided himself for doing that. It wasn't lost on him that he only realized what he was doing had been reckless only after he had passed out at his office desk from exhaustion.
His only solace was that after piecing together all the information that had been gathered from the past three days, as well as from the action that took place when Nachi's group went to bring Squadron 3 home. He had a fairly good idea now where the remains of the mining force had gone, somewhere on the western tip of Cuba.
Which while somewhat worrying, it meant that his vengeance was within reach now. Even in the void he floated in, he felt himself smile as the thought of finding and finishing off those monsters crossed his mind. It gave him a degree of malicious glee.
William was taken by surprise when he felt himself shift in the void, as if though something had grabbed him by the feet and suddenly pulled him downward. An instant after he felt that sensation, he couldn't sense anything. It was all dark, he couldn't even tell where he began and the darkness around him ended...
Harry Leferts
Suave Shadow Cabal Kaiju
Hmm... or summon one... and I think that I know some that could work.
Skywalker_T-65
Writer with too many ideas.
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- Plural/They/He/Her
It's been a long time since I've done a proper summoning.
...I mean, I've still got Austro-Pringles available if I really wanted....
...I mean, I've still got Austro-Pringles available if I really wanted....
Omake: Destroyertimes
Lady Darkhound
Haha, tanks!
- Location
- My very own personal hell
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Destroyertimes 1
HMS Intrepid
HMS Intrepid woke as a chill ran down her keel. The terror that clouded her mind faded with the nightmare. She had been at sea. A monster attacked. Men burned in the water. She had been helpless.
The details drifted from her mind, just out of reach. There was no use dwelling on it. Weeks upon weeks of similar nightmares had taught her that dwelling on the bad dreams and bad thoughts only made them worse. It was hard to do sometimes.
Instead, she had to focus on the good things. Mama Exeter was on her way home! She had left America a few days ago, and was coming home. Intrepid missed her Mama. They hadn't known each other very long, but Exeter was her Mama nonetheless.
Yes, thinking of Mama Exeter's imminent return helped calm her down. Now that she was awake and no longer panicking over a dream, Intrepid looked around the room. A fire burned low on the hearth, and Miss Dreadnought had fallen asleep in a chair near it.
Intrepid wrapped her blanket close around her body as the winter chill bit deep, despite the fire. It was not nearly as bad as arctic convoys had been back in the old war, but without a scarf, her body was not capable of fending off the cold.
The destroyer slid off the couch she had been resting on and moved to a chair closer to the fire. Chilly bare feet made not a sound on the hardwood floor as she approached.
As Intrepid pulled herself into the big chair nearest the hearth, a floorboard creaked just behind her.
She nearly jumped at the sound, and swiftly turned to scan the dark room for any sign of movement or life. Only the soft rumble of Miss Dreadnought sleeping and the occasional crackle of the fire disturbed the otherwise silent room.
A shadow cast itself over the room as something moved in front of the fire. Intrepid turned, half ready to scream in terror. There was no need. A familiar silhouette knelt at the hearth, placing another log on the fire.
One of the submarines. With her face towards the fire, Intrepid couldn't discern the submarine's identity, even as her well endowed form revealed her class.
"Ah, fair Intrepid!" whispered the submarine, turning from the fire. "I did not mean to disturb your rest."
"You didn't wake me." Intrepid replied, pulling herself back into the comfy chair near the fire.
"I see. Did milady suffer another night terror?" The submarine approached, and sat in the chair next to Intrepid's. Flickering flames bit at the newly placed log in the fire and revealed the submarine's face to be that of Tally-Ho.
"I did. I was at sea, a-and we were attacked. I-I never saw what it was, b-but they were on fire. I couldn't help them! They were burning, a-and drowning, and I couldn't do anything!"
Tally did not say anything, but instead reached over and took the shivering destroyer's hand in hers. "Fear not, fair maiden. The terrors of the night cannot harm you. If it would help you, I would stay by your side til morning comes."
"T-thank you." Intrepid said, clutching the submarine's hand tightly.
They spent the next ten minutes just sitting quietly in front of the fire, Tally-Ho holding Intrepid's hand tight. As Intrepid drifted back asleep, she became distantly aware of warm hands lifting and moving her to the couch.
When Dreadnought awoke four hours later, she found Intrepid fast asleep, wrapped in a warm blanket, and leaning on an equally asleep Tally-Ho. The two shipgirls held hands in their sleep.
It was an adorable image, and she took a photo on her phone to share it with Exeter when the heavy cruiser arrived back in Portsmouth. The battleship smiled as she switched the lights in the room back off. The girls still needed their rest.
HMS Intrepid
HMS Intrepid woke as a chill ran down her keel. The terror that clouded her mind faded with the nightmare. She had been at sea. A monster attacked. Men burned in the water. She had been helpless.
The details drifted from her mind, just out of reach. There was no use dwelling on it. Weeks upon weeks of similar nightmares had taught her that dwelling on the bad dreams and bad thoughts only made them worse. It was hard to do sometimes.
Instead, she had to focus on the good things. Mama Exeter was on her way home! She had left America a few days ago, and was coming home. Intrepid missed her Mama. They hadn't known each other very long, but Exeter was her Mama nonetheless.
Yes, thinking of Mama Exeter's imminent return helped calm her down. Now that she was awake and no longer panicking over a dream, Intrepid looked around the room. A fire burned low on the hearth, and Miss Dreadnought had fallen asleep in a chair near it.
Intrepid wrapped her blanket close around her body as the winter chill bit deep, despite the fire. It was not nearly as bad as arctic convoys had been back in the old war, but without a scarf, her body was not capable of fending off the cold.
The destroyer slid off the couch she had been resting on and moved to a chair closer to the fire. Chilly bare feet made not a sound on the hardwood floor as she approached.
As Intrepid pulled herself into the big chair nearest the hearth, a floorboard creaked just behind her.
She nearly jumped at the sound, and swiftly turned to scan the dark room for any sign of movement or life. Only the soft rumble of Miss Dreadnought sleeping and the occasional crackle of the fire disturbed the otherwise silent room.
A shadow cast itself over the room as something moved in front of the fire. Intrepid turned, half ready to scream in terror. There was no need. A familiar silhouette knelt at the hearth, placing another log on the fire.
One of the submarines. With her face towards the fire, Intrepid couldn't discern the submarine's identity, even as her well endowed form revealed her class.
"Ah, fair Intrepid!" whispered the submarine, turning from the fire. "I did not mean to disturb your rest."
"You didn't wake me." Intrepid replied, pulling herself back into the comfy chair near the fire.
"I see. Did milady suffer another night terror?" The submarine approached, and sat in the chair next to Intrepid's. Flickering flames bit at the newly placed log in the fire and revealed the submarine's face to be that of Tally-Ho.
"I did. I was at sea, a-and we were attacked. I-I never saw what it was, b-but they were on fire. I couldn't help them! They were burning, a-and drowning, and I couldn't do anything!"
Tally did not say anything, but instead reached over and took the shivering destroyer's hand in hers. "Fear not, fair maiden. The terrors of the night cannot harm you. If it would help you, I would stay by your side til morning comes."
"T-thank you." Intrepid said, clutching the submarine's hand tightly.
They spent the next ten minutes just sitting quietly in front of the fire, Tally-Ho holding Intrepid's hand tight. As Intrepid drifted back asleep, she became distantly aware of warm hands lifting and moving her to the couch.
When Dreadnought awoke four hours later, she found Intrepid fast asleep, wrapped in a warm blanket, and leaning on an equally asleep Tally-Ho. The two shipgirls held hands in their sleep.
It was an adorable image, and she took a photo on her phone to share it with Exeter when the heavy cruiser arrived back in Portsmouth. The battleship smiled as she switched the lights in the room back off. The girls still needed their rest.
- Location
- Pacific Northwest
An early Christmas present!
I give to you....
Tales from the Ship Girl Buffet
Commander Laura Michaels was well past being frustrated. It wasn't the early start of the morning or the orders to fly to Los Angeles to be in time for the All You Can Eat Ship Girl Buffet to open. No, it was the fact that it took her longer to drive from LAX to Long Beach than it did to fly from Payne Field to LAX that started the whole frustration train. Having to park nearly a mile away didn't improve her mood any.
Dressed in NWUs, it was still hot for a November morning and Laura was sweating like she'd run 5 miles, instead of walking nearly one. She was dodging news trucks, stepping over cables and avoiding collisions with rushing news personnel. Finally arriving, she saw the throng of uniforms in front of the main door of the renovated warehouse. Checking her watch, she was grateful to see she was some 20 minutes early.
Laura paused for a moment to recall Admiral Williams' orders. He wanted a first hand report of the facility, what it was like and how many ship girls could be accommodated. Secondly, she was to check in with the senior SP on duty and make sure everything ran smoothly. Thirdly, since Abyssal air attacks on the convoys were increasing, the 15th Carrier division and the 61std Destroyer division were added to the convoy escort. These were all composed of late war Ship girls, and Laura was to shepherd them through and make sure they all ate their fill.
"Excuse me Ma'am, can I help you?" an older male voice said from right next to her.
Laura turned and saw that she was spoken to by an elderly gentleman in an expensive suit. He stiffened slightly as he saw that Laura turned to him.
"Yes? May I ask who you are?" she inquired politely.
"Ma'am, I'm Jack Williams, Mr. Morris' executive vice-president and COO of Bally's International. Admiral Williams mentioned that he was sending a representative, so I guess you're it." the elderly man stated, as he stood at what looked suspiciously like parade rest.
Something about the man's demeanor struck Laura as familiar, so she voiced her guess.
"You're ex-Navy, aren't you, Mr Williams." she said cautiously
Jack just smiled.
"Does it still show after all these years? Yeah, I was an A-6 armaments specialist aboard Ranger, when she was on Yankee Station, Winter of '67. You can just call me Jack, ma'am" Jack said with a chuckle.
"What can I do to help you, ma'am?" Jack continued in a more formal tone.
"Well, you can explain how this all works, and how it's organized. The admiral wants to make sure you are capable of providing everything you promised." Laura said, bluntly.
Jack stepped aside to reveal another person. This turned out to be a teen-aged girl. She was about Laura's height, slender with her long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was wearing a dark blue t-shirt with US NAVY in gold letters, dark blue shorts with gold trim and gray running shoes. She smiled uncertainly at Laura.
"Ma'am, this is Charlotte Morris, Daniel's sister. She can explain how everything was put together, how it works and so on." Jack said, with a warm pride in his voice.
"Grandpa Jack! Stop, you're embarrassing me!" the girl exclaimed.
"Hi there, Commander! Please, call me Charlie! Everyone calls me that except Grandpa Jack and Grandma Charlotte, but they're so old-fashioned! I can tell you anything you want to know about the buffet. Just ask me, ma'am!" Charlie said in bright but respectful tone, turning to Laura.
"Glad to meet you, Charlie! You can call me Laura. No need to be so formal, since you're a civilian." Laura replied, shaking Charlie's hand.
"Danny said that showing officers respect at all times, was the right thing to do, ma'am." Charlie answered, seriously.
"What was Danny like?" Laura asked.
"Danny had an independent streak a mile wide and two miles deep. He wanted to make his own way, and not be known just as Grandpa John's grandson. That's why he joined the Navy. He also wanted to travel, but not like some rich kid. The last call we got from him was when Antietam was in Yokosuka. He said he loved Japan, how it was both ancient and modern at the same time." Charlie said.
"Your Grandpa Jack said you can explain how this is all going to work." Laura said, changing the subject.
"Right! Have you been to any casino buffets before?" Charlie asked.
When Laura shook her head, Charlie continued.
"We bring people in, find them a place to sit, and let them go after whatever food they want. I've been told this warehouse has over 175,000 square feet of space, with 50,000 square feet of that being the dining area. In the remaining space are food prep and serving stations, drink bars, the industrial bakery and two separate stations for ice cream and doughnuts. The two biggest serving stations are American and Japanese, but we also have stations for Mexican, French, Italian, Chinese, Indian, Thai, German, Greek, Korean, Scandinavian, British, Brazilian, Argentinian, Hawaiian, and Turkish cuisine. We can add more if there's a demand for it. We've got a total of over 500 chefs from all over Southern California as well as about 6,000 culinary students to do the work under them. A normal shift is about 50-100 of the chefs and about 500-650 culinary students. Everyone's a volunteer who works a 5 hour shift, and gets a buffet meal and a take home box at the end of each shift. Except for today, when we open at noon, we're going to be open 6 AM to 9 PM until the convoy departs for Japan". Charlie rattled off, from memory.
"What happens to any leftover cooked food?" Laura asked.
"Well, we've been talking about preparing lunch packs for the ship girls. We figure that we can give them enough food to keep them full till they hit Hawaii or Dutch Harbor, depending on which way they're going. Any excess beyond that, goes to the Meals-on-Wheels kitchens and homeless shelters around Southern California." Charlie announced proudly.
"Wow, it sounds like you've got it all covered! You should know that ship girls are always craving ice cream. You think you'll have enough?" Laura asked.
"According to Grandpa Jack, we got Baskin and Robbins to donate 7,500 gallons in their 62 most popular flavors. Also, Dairy Queen has provided 5 of their "World's Fair" soft-serve stations and enough supplies for 250,000 human size servings. We think that may be enough for this convoy, but they're just a text message away, if we start to run low." Charlie stated.
"We also have an industrial bakery, capable of turning out 500 pies, cakes, cobblers, turnovers, muffins, and other baked goods an hour. Krisky Kreme and Dunkin' are competing to be the "preferred doughnut of ship girls", so they have separate doughnut shops set up inside as well." Charlie went on, breathlessly.
"Wow. You sure seem to know a lot about this operation." Laura said, her head spinning from all the information pouring from Charlie.
"Well, I've been working as a hostess at Caesar's Palace buffet for the last three summers. I've always wanted to try managing a buffet after I graduate, so Grandpa John and Grandpa Jack let me watch and learn on how they planned the Ship Girl Buffet, and they're going to let me be involved in the management of it." Charlie proudly declared.
"Have you ever met any ship girls before, Charlie?" Laura asked.
"No, I haven't ma'am. I've seen New Jersey's press conference and some of them on the evening news, but never met any up close," Charlie admitted.
"Come with me. I 'm going to need your help in getting these girls fed properly." Laura said, as she turned and strode to the crowd around the entrance of the warehouse.
Coming across a group of girls and young women not dressed in Navy NWU or SWUs, Laura identified a young woman dressed in the JMSDF winter blue uniform with Lieutenant's rank insignia
"Excuse me, Lieutenant?" Laura asked, coming up to the woman.
The young woman turned around and saw Laura's uniform and rank insignia. She snapped to attention and saluted.
"Lieutenant Yomi Kimura, JMSDF Deputy Ship Girl Liaison, ma'am!" the young woman announced.
"Commander Laura Michaels, representing COMPACFLT" Laura replied, returning the salute.
"At ease, Lieutenant. So, you're the Liaison officer managing the ship girls assigned to this convoy?" Laura said, in a less formal tone.
"Hai, ma'am!" Lieutenant Kimura replied.
"You speak excellent English, Lieutenant." Laura observed.
"Before the War, I was a foreign exchange student in San Francisco. After I graduated from high school, I came back to America and attended college at the University of Washington, ma'am." Lieutenant Kimura said, humbly.
"Good. I'll need you to translate for me, since my Japanese is pretty basic." Laura admitted.
"No worries, ma'am! All ship girls assigned to convoy escort duty are required to be proficient in understanding, speaking, reading and writing English, ma'am." Lieutenant Kimura responded brightly.
"Lieutenant, can you introduce me to the ship girls who are on this escort mission?" Laura asked, motioning Charlie to follow her.
"Of course, Commander! 15th Carrier Division, report!" Lieutenant Kimura snapped, turning to the group of the biggest ship girls.
All of the indicated ship girls snapped to attention. The first ship girl in line had platinum blonde hair in a thick braid down to the middle of her back. She wore a short white top with a short green over vest that left her midriff bare. She also wore a white green-trimmed skirt that seemed WAY too short, with green and white thigh high stockings and gray knee high boots. She bowed to Laura.
"Greetings, Commander! I am Unryuu, first ship of the Unryuu-Class. The America Navy has have been training us hard. I am looking forward to performing well on this mission!" Unryuu said, formally.
The second ship girl was easily the tallest of all the ship girls. She was broad shouldered and muscular, with impressive 'fuel bunkers'. She also had long lean muscular arms and legs. Her shoulder length hair was brown to go with her brown eyes. She wore a long sleeved white top, a short red skirt and a black over skirt. Dark gray thigh high stockings with black ankle high boots completed her outfit. She bowed low to Laura.
"Konichiwa, Commander. I am Taihou of the Taihou class. Franklin-sensei has been teaching us the fundamentals of American damage control. I am honored to be selected for this mission" Taihou said in a quiet, shy voice, as she slouched, in an unconscious attempt to look inconspicuous.
Lieutenant Kimura barked an order at Taihou, and she snapped to attention. Lieutenant Kimura then leaned over to Taihou, and spoke quietly to her for a few moments. Taihou listened intently to the Lieutenant, nodded and drew herself up to her full height.
The third ship girl was shorter and slimmer than Taihou. She had short blonde hair and blue eyes. She wore a white top, with a red skirt came down to mid-calf. Gold ankle high socks and gray ankle high boots completed her outfit. She drew herself up to attention, clicked her heels together with a clang and gave Laura a short formal bow.
"Guten Tag, forgive me. Good day, Commander. I am Shinyou, a light aircraft carrier. I was converted from a German ocean liner. I've been training in the American ways of air defense and anti-submarine warfare, and I am anxious to show what I have learned." Shinyou said quietly.
The fourth ship girl of the carrier division was as short and slim as Shinyou. She had long light brown hair and brown eyes. She wore a long sleeved white top with red knee-length shorts. She had white ankle-high boots and wore what looked like a leather chest protector. She bowed low to Laura.
"Hello Commander! I am Zuhio, of the Shohou class of light carriers. Like my division mates, I've been training intensely in the American ways of carrier warfare. I am proud to be selected for this vital mission." Zuhio said, sweetly.
"And that is the 15th Carrier Division, Commander. 61st Destroyer Division, report!" Lieutenant Kimura barked.
All of the four ship girls snapped to attention. Destroyer ship girls normally looked very young, like elementary or middle school students., but these four appeared top be noticeably older and more mature looking. They were similar in height and build as well as dress, so Laura concluded must be sister ship girls of the same class. All of them seemed to be about as old as Charlie but they all appeared taller and slimmer.
The first girl had shoulder length black hair pulled back into a short ponytail, held by, was that an AA director? She also had a black headband with gold writing. She had blue eyes, and was wearing a white sailor outfit trimmed in gray, and a short white skirt also trimmed in black. She also wore a yellow neckerchief. White knee high socks with black knee high boots completed her outfit, She bowed formally to Laura.
"Greetings, Commander! I am Akizuki, lead ship of the Akizuki class. My sisters and I are Type- B destroyers, built to be fleet Anti Aircraft escorts. I am anxious to go out and do my best" Akizuki announced clearly.
The second ship girl had long light brown hair in two braids, secured by what looked like propellers. She also had the same black hair band with gold writing on it. Her eyes were gray, and she wore a sleeveless white top that had black trim. She had a black neckerchief held together by what looked like an AA director. She wore a short black skirt trimmed in white. She had white knee-high stockings and knee high boots in anti-fouling red. She gulped and bowed low to Laura.
"Ah, Commander. I'm Teruzuki second ship of the Akizuki class. I am a little nervous, but I will do my best on this mission!" Teruzuki said in a small, quavering voice.
The third ship girl had short dark brown hair and dark brown eyes of immeasurable depth. Like her sisters, she wore a black headband with gold writing. She wore a black body suit that covered her arms and legs. She wore a white short sleeved top trimmed in black, a black skirt trimmed in white, a black neckerchief and knee high red-gray boots. Her AA director was on her right wrist, like a watch. She bowed to Laura.
"Yes, Commander. I am Hatsuzukl of the Akizuki class. My sisters and I have been training hard with the Americans. I look forward to fighting alongside them and showing what I've learned." Hatsuzukl said, in a surprisingly resonant contralto voice.
The last ship girl seemed to be a photo positive of Hatsuzukl. She had long platinum blonde hair, pulled into a ponytail on the left side of her head, held together by, what appeared to be an AA director (must be a class thing, Laura thought). She also wore a black headband with gold writing (probably another class thing). She wore white bodysuit that covered her arms, hands and legs. Over that, she wore a gray and white short sleeved top trimmed in black and a gray over vest. She had a short white skirt trimmed in black. Gray and red knee high boots completed her outfit. She bowed formally to Laura.
"Konichiwa, Commander. I am Suzutsuki of the Akizuki class. The American Navy has been training us hard on the 'Big Blue Blanket'. I am eager to show my senseis that I have learned their lessons well." Suzutsuki said in a calm voice.
To Laura's surprise, Lieutenant Kimura and all the ship girls bowed low to her.
"We are in your care, Commander! Please treat us well!" they all chorused.
"Let's go, ladies. Follow me!" Laura announced, as she turned to the entrance of the warehouse, which was now mobbed by sailors, both Navy and civilian.
"Charlie, I'll get the carrier girls situated and fed. Can I count on you getting the destroyer girls fed properly?" Laura asked, as she turned to Charlie.
"Yes, ma'am! I'll make sure everyone eats their fill and more!" Charlie responded, brightly.
The entrance to the warehouse was as crowded as an Apple Store on Black Friday. Laura took a deep breath and used the "command" voice she hadn't used since her ROTC days.
"MAKE A HOLE, PEOPLE! SHIP GIRLS COMING THROUGH!" Laura bellowed.
Everyone turned to look at Laura and the entourage she was leading. The mass parted, and as they passed, senior chiefs and junior officer saluted. Laura and Lieutenant Kimura returned the salutes as they strode towards the entrance of the warehouse.
Coming to the warehouse entrance, the CPO manning the entrance counter nodded to Laura and Lieutenant Kimura. His eyes widened at the ship girls following them. He made a move to stop Charlie, but Laura reached out to him.
"She's with us, Chief" Laura said.
The CPO nodded, and went back to his task on checking the crowd that mobbed the entrance counter. Walking into the warehouse, Laura's breath was taken away. Even though Charlie said the warehouse was huge, It didn't convey the size properly. To Laura, the interior of the warehouse could easily house the hanger deck of a Ford class carrier with room to spare. Tables and benches were neatly arranged before them, with the food court areas behind those. What looked like more tables and benches were beyond the food court areas. The food court areas themselves were islands of color, activity and enticing aromas. The two biggest ones appeared to be Japanese and American, but there were several others clustered around them.
Charlie waved to the destroyer girls.
"Let's go and get you fed! I know just what you'll like!" she exclaimed, as she let the destroyer girls towards the food court areas.
"I'll go with Charlie and the 61st. They tend to insist that all they want is miso, rice and daikon. I'll do my best to encourage them to have more to eat." Lieutenant Kimura said, as she trailed after Charlie and the destroyer girls.
Laura turned to the carrier girls. They were all agape at the massive abundance of food, as well as seeing people thronging around different food courts. Laura caught their attention and gathered them together.
"Let's get you girls fed. Everyone, grab a big tray. Unryuu, what would you like to eat?" Laura asked, turning to the carrier girl.
"I think I'd like some katsudon, please" Unryuu replied hesitantly.
"Let's go and get you some." Laura said, leading them to the Japanese food station.
Getting to the Japanese food station, Unryuu stepped up and caught the attention of an elderly Japanese woman.
"Excuse me, I'd like some katsudon, please" Unryuu asked politely in English
"Anata wa kyaria-sen no on'nanokodenakereba narimasen" the elderly woman said, (You must be a carrier ship girl)
The elderly woman turned and spoke to the people behind her.
"1Tsu no kyaria shōri no purattā!" the elderly woman shouted. (One carrier victory platter now!)
The elderly woman, with the help of another person, handed Unryuu a huge bowl of rice. This was followed by what looked like a two gallon pitcher of sauce. Two people came out, carrying a huge platter, with two piles of katsudon. They placed it on Unryuu's tray and bowed to her before leaving.
"The stack on the right is chicken, the stack on the left is pork. If you're still hungry after finishing this, come back and we'll make sure you get filled." the elderly woman said In English, as she handed Unryuu chopsticks, a large bowl of miso soup and a spoon.
Unryuu rejoined the group with her loaded tray. Laura pointed her to the drink bar.
"Unryuu, go over there, get what you'd like to drink and find a spot to sit. We'll find you when we all get something to eat." Laura said, motioning to the drink bar and dining area.
"Taihou, what would you like?" Laura asked, turning to the tallest ship girl.
"I think, I think I'd like some beef, please" Taihou shyly replied to Laura.
Laura looked around, and spotted a serving station that fit. She turned to Taihou.
"Follow me! I've got just the thing for you!" she exclaimed, as she led Taihou to what she had spotted.
Coming up to the American food court, Laura saw a carving station with a huge cutting board, with heat lamps over it. Looking for someone, Laura waved at a man behind the counter.
A burly figure in a white apron and a white paper chef's hat came over. He looked at Laura.
"Yes ma'am, what can I do for you?" he asked respectfully.
"We have someone here who wants some beef. Have you got anything ready?" Laura asked.
He looked intently at Laura for a moment, and then his gaze went to Taihou, who was standing behind Laura. Taihou was conscious of his attention, and did her best to shrink behind Laura, a futile endeavor. He broke out in a broad smile.
"Yes, ma'am, I understand. We've got some really good stuff ready right now." he said.
It was then Laura noticed the fouled anchor tattoo on his left forearm. Again, Laura hazarded a guess.
"You're ex-Navy, aren't you?" Laura asked.
"Yes, ma'am! Just call me Red" he exclaimed.
Looking at Taihou, his smile broadened further.
"And you, miss, are the biggest, most impressive looking carrier girl I've ever seen! I think you're even bigger than Intrepid! Big strong carrier girl like you needs lots of food to make sure her air group, ammo magazines, bunkers and stores are all fully loaded. I got just the thing for you here!" Red exclaimed.
Red took a couple of big forks, and opened a door below the counter. He then lifted out a huge roast and set it on the cutting board. Putting one fork down, he picked up a carving knife. He sliced the end off the roast, revealing its juicy medium-rare core. It was then that Laura realized that it wasn't just roast beef, but prime rib. He turned to Taihou.
"How much would you like, miss?" Red asked.
"Not very much, just a little bit. I'm not very hungry" Taihou replied in a small voice.
At that moment, Taihou's stomach rumbled loudly enough to stop conversations in the dining area. She blushed a deep red, and tried to slump further behind Laura in another attempt to appear inconspicuous. Laura turned to her.
"You're a carrier girl of the JMSDF! Be proud of that! Now stand up straight!" Laura whispered to Taihou.
Taihou nodded, and drew herself up to her full height, which was easily more than a foot taller than Laura. Red smiled again, and quickly sliced four huge slabs of the prime rib. These he put on a platter and handed it to Taihou. He then turned and lifted another platter weighed down with a half dozen huge baked potatoes, covered in butter, sour cream, bacon bits and cheese. He handed that to her as well. Finally, Red picked up a big bowl of sauteed green beans and mushrooms and put it on her tray. He then handed her a full service of silverware and a couple of napkins.
"If you're still hungry after you finish these, just come on back and we'll make sure you get enough to fill you up!" Red announced, smiling.
"Go get your drinks and find a seat with Unryuu" Laura said to Taihou, pointing out the drink station and where Unryuu was sitting and waving at them.
With Taihou on her way, Laura turned to Shinyou.
"What would you like to eat?" Laura asked the carrier girl
"I'd dearly love some German food. Is there any around?" Shinyou asked.
Laura looked around and finally found what she had hoped to find.
"Come on, follow me!" Laura said, as she tugged on Shinyou's arm.
Coming up to what looked like the German food court, Laura caught the attention of a young blonde girl, who was attending a large frying pan on a range. The girl came over to Laura and Shinyou.
"Gruss Gut! How can I help you frauleins?" the girl asked, in a brisk cheery voice.
"I'd like some schnitzel, please" Shinyou asked shyly.
"Du bist ein Trägerschiff, nicht wahr?" the girl behind the counter asked in an incredulous voice. (You're a carrier ship girl, aren't you?)
"Ja" Shinyou replied, bowing her head.
The young girl turned to the large skillet she had been tending. She picked up a platter and a fork. Reaching into the skillet, she lifted out half a dozen fried objects onto the platter. She turned to a large pot and ladled out a thick brown gravy with large lumps onto the fried food. She then handed the platter to Shinyou.
"There you go, Fraulein! Fresh Jaegerschnitzel with fresh mushroom gravy!" the girl exclaimed.
Turning around, the girl picked up a large bowl filled with what looked like noodles.
"And here's some fresh Spätzle!" the girl said, as she handed the bowl to Shinyou.
She turned around and picked up another bowl and a silverware setting that she handed to Shinyou.
"And finally, here's some Kartoffelsalat! Genießen!" the girl said, beaming at Shinyou. (Enjoy!)
"Vielen Dank, Fraulein!" Shinyou exclaimed, staring at the bounty on her tray. (Thank you very much, Miss!)
Laura tapped Shinyou on the arm to catch her attention. She pointed Shinyou to the drink bar and where Unryuu and Taihou were sitting.
"Go ahead and get your drinks, then join up where everyone is sitting" Laura said.
Turning to Zuhio, Laura asked her.
"Is there something you'd like to eat?"
Zuhio thought for a second and straightened up as she came to a decision.
"I remember Mikasa saying that Admiral Togo had a liking for British food. It was something he learned while he was studying in Britain. I think I'd like to try some, if I could." Zuhio said wistfully.
Laura looked around and saw what she was looking for.
"Follow me!" Laura exclaimed, tugging on Zuhio's arm
Coming up to what looked like a British food court, Laura waved at an older looking woman to catch her attention. She saw Laura and Zuhio, and came over to them.
"Hello Luvs! What can I get you?" the woman said with a cheery British accent.
"I'd like to have something really British to eat" Zuhio said timidly.
"Is there anything that strikes your fancy?" the woman asked.
"Something the Royal Navy would have" Zuhio said.
The woman broke into a bright smile.
"Got just the thing here for a hungry carrier ship girl!" the woman announced.
Laura looked closely at the woman behind the counter. The woman didn't seem to stand out in any major way, so Laura ventured another guess.
"You're ex-Royal Navy, aren't you?" Laura asked the woman behind the counter.
"Nope! Not a whit. But me family's from Devenport, and I do come from a long ling of British Tars!" the woman announced proudly.
"How did you know she's a carrier ship girl?" Laura asked, gesturing at Zuhio.
"I've seen plenty of the Royal Navy ship girls, and she's about the same size as Hermes. The leather chest protector also kinda gave it away." the woman replied, in a matter of fact tone.
The woman looked at Zuhio, and broke into a big grin. She turned back to the counter behind her and picked up a big bowl. Turning to face Zuhio, she placed it on her tray, along with a big spoon and some napkins.
"Here you go, Luv! Shepard's pie, with beef carrots, peas, green beans and covered by mashed potatoes. Standard fare aboard any of Her Majesty's ships! Eat up and come back, if you're still hungry!" the woman said to Zuhio
Zuhio stared at the bowl that seemed to occupy more than half of her tray. The fluffy white stuff covering it was steaming slightly, and it smelled enticing and savory. She bowed deeply to the woman behind the counter.
"Dōmo arigatōgozaimashita!" Zuhio exclaimed (Thank you very much!)
"Yer welcome, Luv! Eat up and enjoy!" the woman behind the counter replied brightly.
Laura pointed Zuhio to the drink bar and where the other carrier girls were sitting.
"Go ahead and get your drinks and find a seat with the other girls over there. I'll join you when get my lunch" Laura said.
Deciding on something quick and simple, Laura got an order of fish and chips from the British food court. Getting to the drink bar, she was amused to see that some of the cups were upwards 4 gallons in size. She picked up a quart sized one and decided on Diet Pepsi.
Arriving at the area where the carrier girls were seated, Laura saw that everyone was waiting for her, with their food. She saw that Charlie had gotten the destroyer girls well taken care of. Akizuki had a large stack of hamburgers along with a huge pile of french fries. Teruzuki had a platter of enchiladas covered in sauce and cheese with Spanish Rice along with another platter stacked with burritos, tacos and taquitos. Hatsuzukl had a platter stacked with gyros and souvlakis. Suzutsuki had a large stack of various types of pizza. Charlie herself had a pile of fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy with biscuits. Lieutenant Kimura had what looked like a large plate of chicken yakisoba.
As Laura sat, everyone put their hands together and bowed.
"Thank you for this meal!" they all chorused.
With that, the picked up their utensils and began to eat. There was no talking, as everyone addressed their food with a single-minded relentlessness. Everyone had impeccable table manners (unlike New Jersey), but Laura was surprised at how rapidly the ship girls finished their meals. The wait staff came and cleared the used dishes with quiet efficiency. All of the carrier ship girls went back for seconds, thirds and fourths. The destroyer girls went back at least for seconds. As the pace of eating seemed to wind down, Charlie stood up.
"Who's ready for dessert? We've got ice cream!" Charlie asked, brightly.
"Ice cream?" all the destroyer ship girls chorused, echoed by the carrier girls.
"As well as cake, pie, doughnuts and all sorts of other good stuff! Let's go!" Charlie exclaimed.
As one, everyone, except Laura, stood,, forming up like a true carrier task force. and followed Charlie Laura sipped her Diet Pepsi, totally stuffed by her fish and chips, and making a mental note to cut back on lunch next time she came here to leave room for dessert.
Presently, everyone came streaming back, carrying their desserts. Each of the destroyer girls were carrying a plate with a huge slice of pie, covered by what looked like soft-serve ice cream. It looked like Akizuki had apple, Teruzuki had cherry, Hatsuzukl had blueberry, and Suzutsuki had pumpkin pies. Of the carrier girls, it looked like Unryuu had a large slice of chocolate fudge cake, and heaps of chocolate fudge ice cream. Taihou had an enormous banana split, accompanied by a pile of filled chocolate covered doughnuts. Shinyou had a big stack of strudel, along with a huge bowl of butter pecan ice cream. Zuhio also had a large bowl of vanilla ice cream, with a big bowl of what she said was, "a berry trifle." Charlie came back with a large (for her) hot fudge sundae. Finally, Lieutenant Kimura returned with something she called a "Blizzard", that looked like soft server ice cream with bits of Heath Toffee bars blended in it.
As one, everyone attacked their desserts with machine like intensity and relentlessness. Unlike lunch, the pace soon slackened, as most of the desserts disappeared quickly. Finally, all of the desserts were consumed, and the dishes were cleared away. Everyone lounged around, enjoying the memory of the myriad of flavors and the satisfaction of fullness they all felt.
After a few minutes, Laura stood up. Everyone looked at her, heedless of the increased clamor of the dining area.
"Well, is everyone full for now?" Laura asked.
Everyone, including Charlie and Lieutenant Kimura, nodded vigorously.
"Let's go and make room for everyone else." Laura said, as she heeded to the entrance.
Everyone formed up around Laura. Charlie and Lieutenant Kimura led the way,, with the carrier girls grouped around Laura, and the destroyer girls on the flanks of the formation, like good escorts. They made their way outside, and came to the ramp leading down to Long Beach Harbor.
Lieutenant Kimura turned to Laura and Charlie and bowed.
"Thank you, Commander, and you too, Charlie. It was a very enjoyable experience." Lieutenant Kimura exclaimed.
All of the ship girls bowed to Laura and Charlie as well.
"Thank you for such a wonderfully delicious and filling meal! We are grateful for your generosity!" they all chorused.
"Tell all the other ship girls about this, when you get back to San Diego! Let them know that they are welcome anytime the buffet is open and that they can eat their fill, no matter how hungry they are, until the convoy sails for Japan." Laura said.
"So what happens next?" Charlie asked.
"The ship girls will sail back to San Diego. I'll be catching a chopper ride back" Lieutenant Kimura said.
"Will I ever see you again?" Charlie asked, turning to the destroyer ship girls.
"Of course you will! If we're on convoy escort duty again, we'll be back and be looking for you!" Akizuki exclaimed, and her sisters all nodded vigorously in agreement.
Unryuu waved at Laura as she stepped down the ramp and onto the water. Her rigging manifested, and she cried out as she stood there on the water.
"I'm sinking!" she cried out.
"No you're not, you silly! You're just fully loaded for the first time!" Lieutenant Kimura called out with a giggle.
Unryuu shifted her footing, realizing that she wasn't sinking. She unfurled the scroll that served as her flight deck, and cried out again in surprise.
"I've got a full air group! A REAL AIR GROUP! 18 Zero 52Cs! 21 Suiseis! And 27 Tenzans! I've got Type 91 Mod 7 torpedoes! And advanced armor piercing 500kg bombs! My fuel bunker are full! My aviation fuel tanks are full! And my magazines are full as well! It's like I'm a real fleet carrier now! "Unryuu gushed excitedly.
"Remember what Franklin-sensei taught us! Stow those extra bombs and torpedoes in your magazines! Purge your aviation fuel lines! Safety above all!" Taihou cautioned.
"Okay, if I gotta." Unryuu said resignedly., her expression going blank, as she ordered her fairies to carry out the tasks.
Akizuki stepped out on the water and her rigging manifested. She moved slowly ahead of Unryuu,, an expression of concentration on her face.
"Radar and sonar are clear, Unryuu-san. It's safe to proceed out of the harbor." Akizuki said respectfully, looking back at Unryuu.
"Keep to starboard of the orange buoys, and you shouldn't have any trouble getting out of the harbor. Rendezvous with the harbor pickets, and wait there till everyone gets underway." Lieutenant Kimura called out.
Both Unryuu and Akizuki waved their acknowledgment, and both sounded a long note on their horns, waving to Laura and Charlie as they slowly sailed out of the harbor. The scene was repeated for each of the carrier girls, raving about their complete air groups, full magazines and bunkers, and loaded supply lockers, as they were escorted closely by one of the destroyer girls. As the last group left, Lieutenant Kimura turned to Laura and saluted.
"Thank you, ma'am! It was an enjoyable experience! I hope we can meet again soon! I 'm sorry to be abrupt, but my chopper ride leaves in 15 minutes, so I need to leave." Lieutenant Kimura said.
With that, Lieutenant Kimura saluted again, and began walking rapidly towards the helipad the distance.
"Thank you, Charlie, for all your help and information. You provided me lots of good information, and the destroyer girls were thrilled with your help. Again, thank you!" Laura said enthusiastically, turning to Charlie and extending a hand.
t
"Thank you, Commander! The ship girls were a blast! I know they aren't human, and that I shouldn't judge them by human standards, but the Akizuki sisters were SO MUCH FUN! I can hardly wait for them to come back!" Charlie gushed, taking Laura's hand and shaking it vigorously.
"I've get to go back to Everett, and report to the Admiral. I think he'll be pleased. I've also got a lot of pictures ti put in my report as well." Laura said, looking at her watch.
"Okay Commander. I've got to get back and help this shift get cleaned up and ready for their relief. Have a safe trip, Commander, and come back soon!" Charlie called out, as she turned back to the warehouse, waving as she went.
Laura turned towards the harbor again, and saw the last of the ship girls sailing away. She waved and she heard a faint honk of a ship's horn. Then the last ship girl duo disappeared from view. She pulled out her cellphone and punched the first speed dial button.
"US Navy, Pacific Fleet Headquarters, office of the Admiral" the clear voice answered on the first ring.
"Lieutenant, this is Commander Michaels. Is the Admiral available for a short call?" Laura inquired.
"Let me check, ma'am." the Lieutenant said, as the line went quiet.
"I'm transferring you now, ma'am" the Lieutenant said.
"Howgozit, Commander?" Admiral Williams' gravelly voice boomed over the phone.
"It went very well, sir. I'll have a full report when I return to Everett." Laura said.
"I'd like a verbal report when you get back, Commander. The written one can wait a day or so." Admiral Williams ordered.
"Aye, aye, sir. I'm heading back to LAX and catching the next flight to Payne Field." Laura stated.
"Good, Commander. I'll see you when you get back. Williams out." the Admiral said, as he hung up.
It took Laura another 5 hours to get back to LAX, fly to Payne Field, find her staff car and drive to NAVSTA Everett. By the time she walked into the headquarters building, it was almost 2200 hours. She made her way to Admiral Williams' office, dropping her coat, hat and purse at the outer office. The inner office door was open, and the Admiral was at his desk. He looked up, saw her and motioned her into the inner office. As she entered, the Admiral gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk.
"Report, Commander" the Admiral said, gruffly.
"Sir, it was an amazing facility, almost 200,000 square feet inside, filled with at least 50 different food courts, a drink bar with over 300 different beverages, an industrial bakery turning out 500 over sized baked goods an hour, two independent doughnut stands, and enough ice cream to float a carrier." Laura said, breathlessly.
"So how did they handle the ship girls? Were there any problems?" Admiral Williams asked.
"None what so ever, sir. There was more than enough food. Everyone ate well, including dessert. I saw a carrier girl put away over 150 pounds of prime rib, 40 pounds of loaded baked potatoes, two 10 gallon banana splits, 5 dozen custard filled doughnuts, washed down by about 10 gallons of iced tea. The only questions asked were, "are you still hungry?" "would you like more?" and "is there anything else we can get you?" Laura said, shaking her head.
"Were the other Navy and civilian personnel behaving themselves?" inquired the Admiral.
"As far as I could see, sir. There were no eating contests, there were no food fights, and everyone there was sober and behaving themselves." Laura responded.
"Any other thoughts, Commander?" the Admiral asked.
"It was a unique experience, seeing ship girls used to rationing and shortages finally getting permission to eat their fill. Afterwards, when they manifested their rigging to sail back to San Diego, the carrier girls were almost in tears. One exclaimed that her magazines and bunkers were full for the first time ever. Another one kept on gushing on how she finally had a full air group. And two others were giggling with happiness, that they felt like real carriers now. Everyone was in high spirits as they left Long Beach, anxious to use their new found equipment to show how well they've been trained. Oh, one other thing, sir. The management of the buffet said that they could put together lunch boxes for the girls when they finally depart for Japan, packed with enough food to keep them well fed for at least half the trip to Japan." Laura rattled on.
Admiral Williams' craggy features broke out into a huge grin.
"Well done, Commander! I had hopes that this would work, but it's apparently exceeded my wildest expectations. I think this is the beginning of a long productive relationship with the All You Can Eat Ship Girl Buffet! Tell you what, take tomorrow off, and have the written report to me by close of business the day after tomorrow! You've worked hard and it shows!" Admiral Williams said, waving Laura out of the office.
Laura stood and left the Admiral's office. She picked up her purse, hat and coat on her way out. It had been a long day, but one that was full of accomplishment. With tomorrow off, she decided to sleep in, and have a quiet day to reflect on what had happened, and formulate her report with all the photos she'd taken.
I just wish there was a place like the Ship Girl Buffet around here, where I could get breakfast tomorrow morning! Laura thought as she headed home.
I give to you....
Tales from the Ship Girl Buffet
Commander Laura Michaels was well past being frustrated. It wasn't the early start of the morning or the orders to fly to Los Angeles to be in time for the All You Can Eat Ship Girl Buffet to open. No, it was the fact that it took her longer to drive from LAX to Long Beach than it did to fly from Payne Field to LAX that started the whole frustration train. Having to park nearly a mile away didn't improve her mood any.
Dressed in NWUs, it was still hot for a November morning and Laura was sweating like she'd run 5 miles, instead of walking nearly one. She was dodging news trucks, stepping over cables and avoiding collisions with rushing news personnel. Finally arriving, she saw the throng of uniforms in front of the main door of the renovated warehouse. Checking her watch, she was grateful to see she was some 20 minutes early.
Laura paused for a moment to recall Admiral Williams' orders. He wanted a first hand report of the facility, what it was like and how many ship girls could be accommodated. Secondly, she was to check in with the senior SP on duty and make sure everything ran smoothly. Thirdly, since Abyssal air attacks on the convoys were increasing, the 15th Carrier division and the 61std Destroyer division were added to the convoy escort. These were all composed of late war Ship girls, and Laura was to shepherd them through and make sure they all ate their fill.
"Excuse me Ma'am, can I help you?" an older male voice said from right next to her.
Laura turned and saw that she was spoken to by an elderly gentleman in an expensive suit. He stiffened slightly as he saw that Laura turned to him.
"Yes? May I ask who you are?" she inquired politely.
"Ma'am, I'm Jack Williams, Mr. Morris' executive vice-president and COO of Bally's International. Admiral Williams mentioned that he was sending a representative, so I guess you're it." the elderly man stated, as he stood at what looked suspiciously like parade rest.
Something about the man's demeanor struck Laura as familiar, so she voiced her guess.
"You're ex-Navy, aren't you, Mr Williams." she said cautiously
Jack just smiled.
"Does it still show after all these years? Yeah, I was an A-6 armaments specialist aboard Ranger, when she was on Yankee Station, Winter of '67. You can just call me Jack, ma'am" Jack said with a chuckle.
"What can I do to help you, ma'am?" Jack continued in a more formal tone.
"Well, you can explain how this all works, and how it's organized. The admiral wants to make sure you are capable of providing everything you promised." Laura said, bluntly.
Jack stepped aside to reveal another person. This turned out to be a teen-aged girl. She was about Laura's height, slender with her long dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was wearing a dark blue t-shirt with US NAVY in gold letters, dark blue shorts with gold trim and gray running shoes. She smiled uncertainly at Laura.
"Ma'am, this is Charlotte Morris, Daniel's sister. She can explain how everything was put together, how it works and so on." Jack said, with a warm pride in his voice.
"Grandpa Jack! Stop, you're embarrassing me!" the girl exclaimed.
"Hi there, Commander! Please, call me Charlie! Everyone calls me that except Grandpa Jack and Grandma Charlotte, but they're so old-fashioned! I can tell you anything you want to know about the buffet. Just ask me, ma'am!" Charlie said in bright but respectful tone, turning to Laura.
"Glad to meet you, Charlie! You can call me Laura. No need to be so formal, since you're a civilian." Laura replied, shaking Charlie's hand.
"Danny said that showing officers respect at all times, was the right thing to do, ma'am." Charlie answered, seriously.
"What was Danny like?" Laura asked.
"Danny had an independent streak a mile wide and two miles deep. He wanted to make his own way, and not be known just as Grandpa John's grandson. That's why he joined the Navy. He also wanted to travel, but not like some rich kid. The last call we got from him was when Antietam was in Yokosuka. He said he loved Japan, how it was both ancient and modern at the same time." Charlie said.
"Your Grandpa Jack said you can explain how this is all going to work." Laura said, changing the subject.
"Right! Have you been to any casino buffets before?" Charlie asked.
When Laura shook her head, Charlie continued.
"We bring people in, find them a place to sit, and let them go after whatever food they want. I've been told this warehouse has over 175,000 square feet of space, with 50,000 square feet of that being the dining area. In the remaining space are food prep and serving stations, drink bars, the industrial bakery and two separate stations for ice cream and doughnuts. The two biggest serving stations are American and Japanese, but we also have stations for Mexican, French, Italian, Chinese, Indian, Thai, German, Greek, Korean, Scandinavian, British, Brazilian, Argentinian, Hawaiian, and Turkish cuisine. We can add more if there's a demand for it. We've got a total of over 500 chefs from all over Southern California as well as about 6,000 culinary students to do the work under them. A normal shift is about 50-100 of the chefs and about 500-650 culinary students. Everyone's a volunteer who works a 5 hour shift, and gets a buffet meal and a take home box at the end of each shift. Except for today, when we open at noon, we're going to be open 6 AM to 9 PM until the convoy departs for Japan". Charlie rattled off, from memory.
"What happens to any leftover cooked food?" Laura asked.
"Well, we've been talking about preparing lunch packs for the ship girls. We figure that we can give them enough food to keep them full till they hit Hawaii or Dutch Harbor, depending on which way they're going. Any excess beyond that, goes to the Meals-on-Wheels kitchens and homeless shelters around Southern California." Charlie announced proudly.
"Wow, it sounds like you've got it all covered! You should know that ship girls are always craving ice cream. You think you'll have enough?" Laura asked.
"According to Grandpa Jack, we got Baskin and Robbins to donate 7,500 gallons in their 62 most popular flavors. Also, Dairy Queen has provided 5 of their "World's Fair" soft-serve stations and enough supplies for 250,000 human size servings. We think that may be enough for this convoy, but they're just a text message away, if we start to run low." Charlie stated.
"We also have an industrial bakery, capable of turning out 500 pies, cakes, cobblers, turnovers, muffins, and other baked goods an hour. Krisky Kreme and Dunkin' are competing to be the "preferred doughnut of ship girls", so they have separate doughnut shops set up inside as well." Charlie went on, breathlessly.
"Wow. You sure seem to know a lot about this operation." Laura said, her head spinning from all the information pouring from Charlie.
"Well, I've been working as a hostess at Caesar's Palace buffet for the last three summers. I've always wanted to try managing a buffet after I graduate, so Grandpa John and Grandpa Jack let me watch and learn on how they planned the Ship Girl Buffet, and they're going to let me be involved in the management of it." Charlie proudly declared.
"Have you ever met any ship girls before, Charlie?" Laura asked.
"No, I haven't ma'am. I've seen New Jersey's press conference and some of them on the evening news, but never met any up close," Charlie admitted.
"Come with me. I 'm going to need your help in getting these girls fed properly." Laura said, as she turned and strode to the crowd around the entrance of the warehouse.
Coming across a group of girls and young women not dressed in Navy NWU or SWUs, Laura identified a young woman dressed in the JMSDF winter blue uniform with Lieutenant's rank insignia
"Excuse me, Lieutenant?" Laura asked, coming up to the woman.
The young woman turned around and saw Laura's uniform and rank insignia. She snapped to attention and saluted.
"Lieutenant Yomi Kimura, JMSDF Deputy Ship Girl Liaison, ma'am!" the young woman announced.
"Commander Laura Michaels, representing COMPACFLT" Laura replied, returning the salute.
"At ease, Lieutenant. So, you're the Liaison officer managing the ship girls assigned to this convoy?" Laura said, in a less formal tone.
"Hai, ma'am!" Lieutenant Kimura replied.
"You speak excellent English, Lieutenant." Laura observed.
"Before the War, I was a foreign exchange student in San Francisco. After I graduated from high school, I came back to America and attended college at the University of Washington, ma'am." Lieutenant Kimura said, humbly.
"Good. I'll need you to translate for me, since my Japanese is pretty basic." Laura admitted.
"No worries, ma'am! All ship girls assigned to convoy escort duty are required to be proficient in understanding, speaking, reading and writing English, ma'am." Lieutenant Kimura responded brightly.
"Lieutenant, can you introduce me to the ship girls who are on this escort mission?" Laura asked, motioning Charlie to follow her.
"Of course, Commander! 15th Carrier Division, report!" Lieutenant Kimura snapped, turning to the group of the biggest ship girls.
All of the indicated ship girls snapped to attention. The first ship girl in line had platinum blonde hair in a thick braid down to the middle of her back. She wore a short white top with a short green over vest that left her midriff bare. She also wore a white green-trimmed skirt that seemed WAY too short, with green and white thigh high stockings and gray knee high boots. She bowed to Laura.
"Greetings, Commander! I am Unryuu, first ship of the Unryuu-Class. The America Navy has have been training us hard. I am looking forward to performing well on this mission!" Unryuu said, formally.
The second ship girl was easily the tallest of all the ship girls. She was broad shouldered and muscular, with impressive 'fuel bunkers'. She also had long lean muscular arms and legs. Her shoulder length hair was brown to go with her brown eyes. She wore a long sleeved white top, a short red skirt and a black over skirt. Dark gray thigh high stockings with black ankle high boots completed her outfit. She bowed low to Laura.
"Konichiwa, Commander. I am Taihou of the Taihou class. Franklin-sensei has been teaching us the fundamentals of American damage control. I am honored to be selected for this mission" Taihou said in a quiet, shy voice, as she slouched, in an unconscious attempt to look inconspicuous.
Lieutenant Kimura barked an order at Taihou, and she snapped to attention. Lieutenant Kimura then leaned over to Taihou, and spoke quietly to her for a few moments. Taihou listened intently to the Lieutenant, nodded and drew herself up to her full height.
The third ship girl was shorter and slimmer than Taihou. She had short blonde hair and blue eyes. She wore a white top, with a red skirt came down to mid-calf. Gold ankle high socks and gray ankle high boots completed her outfit. She drew herself up to attention, clicked her heels together with a clang and gave Laura a short formal bow.
"Guten Tag, forgive me. Good day, Commander. I am Shinyou, a light aircraft carrier. I was converted from a German ocean liner. I've been training in the American ways of air defense and anti-submarine warfare, and I am anxious to show what I have learned." Shinyou said quietly.
The fourth ship girl of the carrier division was as short and slim as Shinyou. She had long light brown hair and brown eyes. She wore a long sleeved white top with red knee-length shorts. She had white ankle-high boots and wore what looked like a leather chest protector. She bowed low to Laura.
"Hello Commander! I am Zuhio, of the Shohou class of light carriers. Like my division mates, I've been training intensely in the American ways of carrier warfare. I am proud to be selected for this vital mission." Zuhio said, sweetly.
"And that is the 15th Carrier Division, Commander. 61st Destroyer Division, report!" Lieutenant Kimura barked.
All of the four ship girls snapped to attention. Destroyer ship girls normally looked very young, like elementary or middle school students., but these four appeared top be noticeably older and more mature looking. They were similar in height and build as well as dress, so Laura concluded must be sister ship girls of the same class. All of them seemed to be about as old as Charlie but they all appeared taller and slimmer.
The first girl had shoulder length black hair pulled back into a short ponytail, held by, was that an AA director? She also had a black headband with gold writing. She had blue eyes, and was wearing a white sailor outfit trimmed in gray, and a short white skirt also trimmed in black. She also wore a yellow neckerchief. White knee high socks with black knee high boots completed her outfit, She bowed formally to Laura.
"Greetings, Commander! I am Akizuki, lead ship of the Akizuki class. My sisters and I are Type- B destroyers, built to be fleet Anti Aircraft escorts. I am anxious to go out and do my best" Akizuki announced clearly.
The second ship girl had long light brown hair in two braids, secured by what looked like propellers. She also had the same black hair band with gold writing on it. Her eyes were gray, and she wore a sleeveless white top that had black trim. She had a black neckerchief held together by what looked like an AA director. She wore a short black skirt trimmed in white. She had white knee-high stockings and knee high boots in anti-fouling red. She gulped and bowed low to Laura.
"Ah, Commander. I'm Teruzuki second ship of the Akizuki class. I am a little nervous, but I will do my best on this mission!" Teruzuki said in a small, quavering voice.
The third ship girl had short dark brown hair and dark brown eyes of immeasurable depth. Like her sisters, she wore a black headband with gold writing. She wore a black body suit that covered her arms and legs. She wore a white short sleeved top trimmed in black, a black skirt trimmed in white, a black neckerchief and knee high red-gray boots. Her AA director was on her right wrist, like a watch. She bowed to Laura.
"Yes, Commander. I am Hatsuzukl of the Akizuki class. My sisters and I have been training hard with the Americans. I look forward to fighting alongside them and showing what I've learned." Hatsuzukl said, in a surprisingly resonant contralto voice.
The last ship girl seemed to be a photo positive of Hatsuzukl. She had long platinum blonde hair, pulled into a ponytail on the left side of her head, held together by, what appeared to be an AA director (must be a class thing, Laura thought). She also wore a black headband with gold writing (probably another class thing). She wore white bodysuit that covered her arms, hands and legs. Over that, she wore a gray and white short sleeved top trimmed in black and a gray over vest. She had a short white skirt trimmed in black. Gray and red knee high boots completed her outfit. She bowed formally to Laura.
"Konichiwa, Commander. I am Suzutsuki of the Akizuki class. The American Navy has been training us hard on the 'Big Blue Blanket'. I am eager to show my senseis that I have learned their lessons well." Suzutsuki said in a calm voice.
To Laura's surprise, Lieutenant Kimura and all the ship girls bowed low to her.
"We are in your care, Commander! Please treat us well!" they all chorused.
"Let's go, ladies. Follow me!" Laura announced, as she turned to the entrance of the warehouse, which was now mobbed by sailors, both Navy and civilian.
"Charlie, I'll get the carrier girls situated and fed. Can I count on you getting the destroyer girls fed properly?" Laura asked, as she turned to Charlie.
"Yes, ma'am! I'll make sure everyone eats their fill and more!" Charlie responded, brightly.
The entrance to the warehouse was as crowded as an Apple Store on Black Friday. Laura took a deep breath and used the "command" voice she hadn't used since her ROTC days.
"MAKE A HOLE, PEOPLE! SHIP GIRLS COMING THROUGH!" Laura bellowed.
Everyone turned to look at Laura and the entourage she was leading. The mass parted, and as they passed, senior chiefs and junior officer saluted. Laura and Lieutenant Kimura returned the salutes as they strode towards the entrance of the warehouse.
Coming to the warehouse entrance, the CPO manning the entrance counter nodded to Laura and Lieutenant Kimura. His eyes widened at the ship girls following them. He made a move to stop Charlie, but Laura reached out to him.
"She's with us, Chief" Laura said.
The CPO nodded, and went back to his task on checking the crowd that mobbed the entrance counter. Walking into the warehouse, Laura's breath was taken away. Even though Charlie said the warehouse was huge, It didn't convey the size properly. To Laura, the interior of the warehouse could easily house the hanger deck of a Ford class carrier with room to spare. Tables and benches were neatly arranged before them, with the food court areas behind those. What looked like more tables and benches were beyond the food court areas. The food court areas themselves were islands of color, activity and enticing aromas. The two biggest ones appeared to be Japanese and American, but there were several others clustered around them.
Charlie waved to the destroyer girls.
"Let's go and get you fed! I know just what you'll like!" she exclaimed, as she let the destroyer girls towards the food court areas.
"I'll go with Charlie and the 61st. They tend to insist that all they want is miso, rice and daikon. I'll do my best to encourage them to have more to eat." Lieutenant Kimura said, as she trailed after Charlie and the destroyer girls.
Laura turned to the carrier girls. They were all agape at the massive abundance of food, as well as seeing people thronging around different food courts. Laura caught their attention and gathered them together.
"Let's get you girls fed. Everyone, grab a big tray. Unryuu, what would you like to eat?" Laura asked, turning to the carrier girl.
"I think I'd like some katsudon, please" Unryuu replied hesitantly.
"Let's go and get you some." Laura said, leading them to the Japanese food station.
Getting to the Japanese food station, Unryuu stepped up and caught the attention of an elderly Japanese woman.
"Excuse me, I'd like some katsudon, please" Unryuu asked politely in English
"Anata wa kyaria-sen no on'nanokodenakereba narimasen" the elderly woman said, (You must be a carrier ship girl)
The elderly woman turned and spoke to the people behind her.
"1Tsu no kyaria shōri no purattā!" the elderly woman shouted. (One carrier victory platter now!)
The elderly woman, with the help of another person, handed Unryuu a huge bowl of rice. This was followed by what looked like a two gallon pitcher of sauce. Two people came out, carrying a huge platter, with two piles of katsudon. They placed it on Unryuu's tray and bowed to her before leaving.
"The stack on the right is chicken, the stack on the left is pork. If you're still hungry after finishing this, come back and we'll make sure you get filled." the elderly woman said In English, as she handed Unryuu chopsticks, a large bowl of miso soup and a spoon.
Unryuu rejoined the group with her loaded tray. Laura pointed her to the drink bar.
"Unryuu, go over there, get what you'd like to drink and find a spot to sit. We'll find you when we all get something to eat." Laura said, motioning to the drink bar and dining area.
"Taihou, what would you like?" Laura asked, turning to the tallest ship girl.
"I think, I think I'd like some beef, please" Taihou shyly replied to Laura.
Laura looked around, and spotted a serving station that fit. She turned to Taihou.
"Follow me! I've got just the thing for you!" she exclaimed, as she led Taihou to what she had spotted.
Coming up to the American food court, Laura saw a carving station with a huge cutting board, with heat lamps over it. Looking for someone, Laura waved at a man behind the counter.
A burly figure in a white apron and a white paper chef's hat came over. He looked at Laura.
"Yes ma'am, what can I do for you?" he asked respectfully.
"We have someone here who wants some beef. Have you got anything ready?" Laura asked.
He looked intently at Laura for a moment, and then his gaze went to Taihou, who was standing behind Laura. Taihou was conscious of his attention, and did her best to shrink behind Laura, a futile endeavor. He broke out in a broad smile.
"Yes, ma'am, I understand. We've got some really good stuff ready right now." he said.
It was then Laura noticed the fouled anchor tattoo on his left forearm. Again, Laura hazarded a guess.
"You're ex-Navy, aren't you?" Laura asked.
"Yes, ma'am! Just call me Red" he exclaimed.
Looking at Taihou, his smile broadened further.
"And you, miss, are the biggest, most impressive looking carrier girl I've ever seen! I think you're even bigger than Intrepid! Big strong carrier girl like you needs lots of food to make sure her air group, ammo magazines, bunkers and stores are all fully loaded. I got just the thing for you here!" Red exclaimed.
Red took a couple of big forks, and opened a door below the counter. He then lifted out a huge roast and set it on the cutting board. Putting one fork down, he picked up a carving knife. He sliced the end off the roast, revealing its juicy medium-rare core. It was then that Laura realized that it wasn't just roast beef, but prime rib. He turned to Taihou.
"How much would you like, miss?" Red asked.
"Not very much, just a little bit. I'm not very hungry" Taihou replied in a small voice.
At that moment, Taihou's stomach rumbled loudly enough to stop conversations in the dining area. She blushed a deep red, and tried to slump further behind Laura in another attempt to appear inconspicuous. Laura turned to her.
"You're a carrier girl of the JMSDF! Be proud of that! Now stand up straight!" Laura whispered to Taihou.
Taihou nodded, and drew herself up to her full height, which was easily more than a foot taller than Laura. Red smiled again, and quickly sliced four huge slabs of the prime rib. These he put on a platter and handed it to Taihou. He then turned and lifted another platter weighed down with a half dozen huge baked potatoes, covered in butter, sour cream, bacon bits and cheese. He handed that to her as well. Finally, Red picked up a big bowl of sauteed green beans and mushrooms and put it on her tray. He then handed her a full service of silverware and a couple of napkins.
"If you're still hungry after you finish these, just come on back and we'll make sure you get enough to fill you up!" Red announced, smiling.
"Go get your drinks and find a seat with Unryuu" Laura said to Taihou, pointing out the drink station and where Unryuu was sitting and waving at them.
With Taihou on her way, Laura turned to Shinyou.
"What would you like to eat?" Laura asked the carrier girl
"I'd dearly love some German food. Is there any around?" Shinyou asked.
Laura looked around and finally found what she had hoped to find.
"Come on, follow me!" Laura said, as she tugged on Shinyou's arm.
Coming up to what looked like the German food court, Laura caught the attention of a young blonde girl, who was attending a large frying pan on a range. The girl came over to Laura and Shinyou.
"Gruss Gut! How can I help you frauleins?" the girl asked, in a brisk cheery voice.
"I'd like some schnitzel, please" Shinyou asked shyly.
"Du bist ein Trägerschiff, nicht wahr?" the girl behind the counter asked in an incredulous voice. (You're a carrier ship girl, aren't you?)
"Ja" Shinyou replied, bowing her head.
The young girl turned to the large skillet she had been tending. She picked up a platter and a fork. Reaching into the skillet, she lifted out half a dozen fried objects onto the platter. She turned to a large pot and ladled out a thick brown gravy with large lumps onto the fried food. She then handed the platter to Shinyou.
"There you go, Fraulein! Fresh Jaegerschnitzel with fresh mushroom gravy!" the girl exclaimed.
Turning around, the girl picked up a large bowl filled with what looked like noodles.
"And here's some fresh Spätzle!" the girl said, as she handed the bowl to Shinyou.
She turned around and picked up another bowl and a silverware setting that she handed to Shinyou.
"And finally, here's some Kartoffelsalat! Genießen!" the girl said, beaming at Shinyou. (Enjoy!)
"Vielen Dank, Fraulein!" Shinyou exclaimed, staring at the bounty on her tray. (Thank you very much, Miss!)
Laura tapped Shinyou on the arm to catch her attention. She pointed Shinyou to the drink bar and where Unryuu and Taihou were sitting.
"Go ahead and get your drinks, then join up where everyone is sitting" Laura said.
Turning to Zuhio, Laura asked her.
"Is there something you'd like to eat?"
Zuhio thought for a second and straightened up as she came to a decision.
"I remember Mikasa saying that Admiral Togo had a liking for British food. It was something he learned while he was studying in Britain. I think I'd like to try some, if I could." Zuhio said wistfully.
Laura looked around and saw what she was looking for.
"Follow me!" Laura exclaimed, tugging on Zuhio's arm
Coming up to what looked like a British food court, Laura waved at an older looking woman to catch her attention. She saw Laura and Zuhio, and came over to them.
"Hello Luvs! What can I get you?" the woman said with a cheery British accent.
"I'd like to have something really British to eat" Zuhio said timidly.
"Is there anything that strikes your fancy?" the woman asked.
"Something the Royal Navy would have" Zuhio said.
The woman broke into a bright smile.
"Got just the thing here for a hungry carrier ship girl!" the woman announced.
Laura looked closely at the woman behind the counter. The woman didn't seem to stand out in any major way, so Laura ventured another guess.
"You're ex-Royal Navy, aren't you?" Laura asked the woman behind the counter.
"Nope! Not a whit. But me family's from Devenport, and I do come from a long ling of British Tars!" the woman announced proudly.
"How did you know she's a carrier ship girl?" Laura asked, gesturing at Zuhio.
"I've seen plenty of the Royal Navy ship girls, and she's about the same size as Hermes. The leather chest protector also kinda gave it away." the woman replied, in a matter of fact tone.
The woman looked at Zuhio, and broke into a big grin. She turned back to the counter behind her and picked up a big bowl. Turning to face Zuhio, she placed it on her tray, along with a big spoon and some napkins.
"Here you go, Luv! Shepard's pie, with beef carrots, peas, green beans and covered by mashed potatoes. Standard fare aboard any of Her Majesty's ships! Eat up and come back, if you're still hungry!" the woman said to Zuhio
Zuhio stared at the bowl that seemed to occupy more than half of her tray. The fluffy white stuff covering it was steaming slightly, and it smelled enticing and savory. She bowed deeply to the woman behind the counter.
"Dōmo arigatōgozaimashita!" Zuhio exclaimed (Thank you very much!)
"Yer welcome, Luv! Eat up and enjoy!" the woman behind the counter replied brightly.
Laura pointed Zuhio to the drink bar and where the other carrier girls were sitting.
"Go ahead and get your drinks and find a seat with the other girls over there. I'll join you when get my lunch" Laura said.
Deciding on something quick and simple, Laura got an order of fish and chips from the British food court. Getting to the drink bar, she was amused to see that some of the cups were upwards 4 gallons in size. She picked up a quart sized one and decided on Diet Pepsi.
Arriving at the area where the carrier girls were seated, Laura saw that everyone was waiting for her, with their food. She saw that Charlie had gotten the destroyer girls well taken care of. Akizuki had a large stack of hamburgers along with a huge pile of french fries. Teruzuki had a platter of enchiladas covered in sauce and cheese with Spanish Rice along with another platter stacked with burritos, tacos and taquitos. Hatsuzukl had a platter stacked with gyros and souvlakis. Suzutsuki had a large stack of various types of pizza. Charlie herself had a pile of fried chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy with biscuits. Lieutenant Kimura had what looked like a large plate of chicken yakisoba.
As Laura sat, everyone put their hands together and bowed.
"Thank you for this meal!" they all chorused.
With that, the picked up their utensils and began to eat. There was no talking, as everyone addressed their food with a single-minded relentlessness. Everyone had impeccable table manners (unlike New Jersey), but Laura was surprised at how rapidly the ship girls finished their meals. The wait staff came and cleared the used dishes with quiet efficiency. All of the carrier ship girls went back for seconds, thirds and fourths. The destroyer girls went back at least for seconds. As the pace of eating seemed to wind down, Charlie stood up.
"Who's ready for dessert? We've got ice cream!" Charlie asked, brightly.
"Ice cream?" all the destroyer ship girls chorused, echoed by the carrier girls.
"As well as cake, pie, doughnuts and all sorts of other good stuff! Let's go!" Charlie exclaimed.
As one, everyone, except Laura, stood,, forming up like a true carrier task force. and followed Charlie Laura sipped her Diet Pepsi, totally stuffed by her fish and chips, and making a mental note to cut back on lunch next time she came here to leave room for dessert.
Presently, everyone came streaming back, carrying their desserts. Each of the destroyer girls were carrying a plate with a huge slice of pie, covered by what looked like soft-serve ice cream. It looked like Akizuki had apple, Teruzuki had cherry, Hatsuzukl had blueberry, and Suzutsuki had pumpkin pies. Of the carrier girls, it looked like Unryuu had a large slice of chocolate fudge cake, and heaps of chocolate fudge ice cream. Taihou had an enormous banana split, accompanied by a pile of filled chocolate covered doughnuts. Shinyou had a big stack of strudel, along with a huge bowl of butter pecan ice cream. Zuhio also had a large bowl of vanilla ice cream, with a big bowl of what she said was, "a berry trifle." Charlie came back with a large (for her) hot fudge sundae. Finally, Lieutenant Kimura returned with something she called a "Blizzard", that looked like soft server ice cream with bits of Heath Toffee bars blended in it.
As one, everyone attacked their desserts with machine like intensity and relentlessness. Unlike lunch, the pace soon slackened, as most of the desserts disappeared quickly. Finally, all of the desserts were consumed, and the dishes were cleared away. Everyone lounged around, enjoying the memory of the myriad of flavors and the satisfaction of fullness they all felt.
After a few minutes, Laura stood up. Everyone looked at her, heedless of the increased clamor of the dining area.
"Well, is everyone full for now?" Laura asked.
Everyone, including Charlie and Lieutenant Kimura, nodded vigorously.
"Let's go and make room for everyone else." Laura said, as she heeded to the entrance.
Everyone formed up around Laura. Charlie and Lieutenant Kimura led the way,, with the carrier girls grouped around Laura, and the destroyer girls on the flanks of the formation, like good escorts. They made their way outside, and came to the ramp leading down to Long Beach Harbor.
Lieutenant Kimura turned to Laura and Charlie and bowed.
"Thank you, Commander, and you too, Charlie. It was a very enjoyable experience." Lieutenant Kimura exclaimed.
All of the ship girls bowed to Laura and Charlie as well.
"Thank you for such a wonderfully delicious and filling meal! We are grateful for your generosity!" they all chorused.
"Tell all the other ship girls about this, when you get back to San Diego! Let them know that they are welcome anytime the buffet is open and that they can eat their fill, no matter how hungry they are, until the convoy sails for Japan." Laura said.
"So what happens next?" Charlie asked.
"The ship girls will sail back to San Diego. I'll be catching a chopper ride back" Lieutenant Kimura said.
"Will I ever see you again?" Charlie asked, turning to the destroyer ship girls.
"Of course you will! If we're on convoy escort duty again, we'll be back and be looking for you!" Akizuki exclaimed, and her sisters all nodded vigorously in agreement.
Unryuu waved at Laura as she stepped down the ramp and onto the water. Her rigging manifested, and she cried out as she stood there on the water.
"I'm sinking!" she cried out.
"No you're not, you silly! You're just fully loaded for the first time!" Lieutenant Kimura called out with a giggle.
Unryuu shifted her footing, realizing that she wasn't sinking. She unfurled the scroll that served as her flight deck, and cried out again in surprise.
"I've got a full air group! A REAL AIR GROUP! 18 Zero 52Cs! 21 Suiseis! And 27 Tenzans! I've got Type 91 Mod 7 torpedoes! And advanced armor piercing 500kg bombs! My fuel bunker are full! My aviation fuel tanks are full! And my magazines are full as well! It's like I'm a real fleet carrier now! "Unryuu gushed excitedly.
"Remember what Franklin-sensei taught us! Stow those extra bombs and torpedoes in your magazines! Purge your aviation fuel lines! Safety above all!" Taihou cautioned.
"Okay, if I gotta." Unryuu said resignedly., her expression going blank, as she ordered her fairies to carry out the tasks.
Akizuki stepped out on the water and her rigging manifested. She moved slowly ahead of Unryuu,, an expression of concentration on her face.
"Radar and sonar are clear, Unryuu-san. It's safe to proceed out of the harbor." Akizuki said respectfully, looking back at Unryuu.
"Keep to starboard of the orange buoys, and you shouldn't have any trouble getting out of the harbor. Rendezvous with the harbor pickets, and wait there till everyone gets underway." Lieutenant Kimura called out.
Both Unryuu and Akizuki waved their acknowledgment, and both sounded a long note on their horns, waving to Laura and Charlie as they slowly sailed out of the harbor. The scene was repeated for each of the carrier girls, raving about their complete air groups, full magazines and bunkers, and loaded supply lockers, as they were escorted closely by one of the destroyer girls. As the last group left, Lieutenant Kimura turned to Laura and saluted.
"Thank you, ma'am! It was an enjoyable experience! I hope we can meet again soon! I 'm sorry to be abrupt, but my chopper ride leaves in 15 minutes, so I need to leave." Lieutenant Kimura said.
With that, Lieutenant Kimura saluted again, and began walking rapidly towards the helipad the distance.
"Thank you, Charlie, for all your help and information. You provided me lots of good information, and the destroyer girls were thrilled with your help. Again, thank you!" Laura said enthusiastically, turning to Charlie and extending a hand.
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"Thank you, Commander! The ship girls were a blast! I know they aren't human, and that I shouldn't judge them by human standards, but the Akizuki sisters were SO MUCH FUN! I can hardly wait for them to come back!" Charlie gushed, taking Laura's hand and shaking it vigorously.
"I've get to go back to Everett, and report to the Admiral. I think he'll be pleased. I've also got a lot of pictures ti put in my report as well." Laura said, looking at her watch.
"Okay Commander. I've got to get back and help this shift get cleaned up and ready for their relief. Have a safe trip, Commander, and come back soon!" Charlie called out, as she turned back to the warehouse, waving as she went.
Laura turned towards the harbor again, and saw the last of the ship girls sailing away. She waved and she heard a faint honk of a ship's horn. Then the last ship girl duo disappeared from view. She pulled out her cellphone and punched the first speed dial button.
"US Navy, Pacific Fleet Headquarters, office of the Admiral" the clear voice answered on the first ring.
"Lieutenant, this is Commander Michaels. Is the Admiral available for a short call?" Laura inquired.
"Let me check, ma'am." the Lieutenant said, as the line went quiet.
"I'm transferring you now, ma'am" the Lieutenant said.
"Howgozit, Commander?" Admiral Williams' gravelly voice boomed over the phone.
"It went very well, sir. I'll have a full report when I return to Everett." Laura said.
"I'd like a verbal report when you get back, Commander. The written one can wait a day or so." Admiral Williams ordered.
"Aye, aye, sir. I'm heading back to LAX and catching the next flight to Payne Field." Laura stated.
"Good, Commander. I'll see you when you get back. Williams out." the Admiral said, as he hung up.
It took Laura another 5 hours to get back to LAX, fly to Payne Field, find her staff car and drive to NAVSTA Everett. By the time she walked into the headquarters building, it was almost 2200 hours. She made her way to Admiral Williams' office, dropping her coat, hat and purse at the outer office. The inner office door was open, and the Admiral was at his desk. He looked up, saw her and motioned her into the inner office. As she entered, the Admiral gestured to one of the chairs in front of his desk.
"Report, Commander" the Admiral said, gruffly.
"Sir, it was an amazing facility, almost 200,000 square feet inside, filled with at least 50 different food courts, a drink bar with over 300 different beverages, an industrial bakery turning out 500 over sized baked goods an hour, two independent doughnut stands, and enough ice cream to float a carrier." Laura said, breathlessly.
"So how did they handle the ship girls? Were there any problems?" Admiral Williams asked.
"None what so ever, sir. There was more than enough food. Everyone ate well, including dessert. I saw a carrier girl put away over 150 pounds of prime rib, 40 pounds of loaded baked potatoes, two 10 gallon banana splits, 5 dozen custard filled doughnuts, washed down by about 10 gallons of iced tea. The only questions asked were, "are you still hungry?" "would you like more?" and "is there anything else we can get you?" Laura said, shaking her head.
"Were the other Navy and civilian personnel behaving themselves?" inquired the Admiral.
"As far as I could see, sir. There were no eating contests, there were no food fights, and everyone there was sober and behaving themselves." Laura responded.
"Any other thoughts, Commander?" the Admiral asked.
"It was a unique experience, seeing ship girls used to rationing and shortages finally getting permission to eat their fill. Afterwards, when they manifested their rigging to sail back to San Diego, the carrier girls were almost in tears. One exclaimed that her magazines and bunkers were full for the first time ever. Another one kept on gushing on how she finally had a full air group. And two others were giggling with happiness, that they felt like real carriers now. Everyone was in high spirits as they left Long Beach, anxious to use their new found equipment to show how well they've been trained. Oh, one other thing, sir. The management of the buffet said that they could put together lunch boxes for the girls when they finally depart for Japan, packed with enough food to keep them well fed for at least half the trip to Japan." Laura rattled on.
Admiral Williams' craggy features broke out into a huge grin.
"Well done, Commander! I had hopes that this would work, but it's apparently exceeded my wildest expectations. I think this is the beginning of a long productive relationship with the All You Can Eat Ship Girl Buffet! Tell you what, take tomorrow off, and have the written report to me by close of business the day after tomorrow! You've worked hard and it shows!" Admiral Williams said, waving Laura out of the office.
Laura stood and left the Admiral's office. She picked up her purse, hat and coat on her way out. It had been a long day, but one that was full of accomplishment. With tomorrow off, she decided to sleep in, and have a quiet day to reflect on what had happened, and formulate her report with all the photos she'd taken.
I just wish there was a place like the Ship Girl Buffet around here, where I could get breakfast tomorrow morning! Laura thought as she headed home.
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