Castles of Steel - Lesbians Good, Imperialism Bad

[open_sketch]

Akitsukuni: A proud and ancient land balancing on the edge. Between modernity and antiquity, between democracy and authoritarianism, between traditional and foreign ways. Ruled from time immemorial by the Empress, descendant of the Sun, who would guide and protect her people, and a warrior class that ruled the waves, the tiny nation was shocked rudely into the modern world towards the end of the last century. Akitsusuni has made great strides in catching up to the West, which stands poised try to plunder Akitsusuni of its wealth and traditions, as it has many other parts of the world. With a modern Navy, a modern Army, and an expanding economy Akitsusuni now faces the challenge of maintaining its tenuous position in the world against the powers that would see the Land of the Sun fail.

That's where you come in as an officer of Her Majesty's Imperial Navy. A rather special officer, actually. You're the first woman to graduate from the Imperial Naval Academy and given a commission, a consequence of politics local and international. Akitsukuni society has long been stratified by gender, with men in positions of power and authority and women doing what they can in the space allotted to them. But this, like many things, is changing. The men of the old nobility (rather, the continuing nobility even if wasn't official anymore) have decided that it would be better to allow women of the "proper" class into the Navy's officer academy before they allowed commoners, or horror of horrors, untouchables into the Imperial Naval Academy. It was thought that even if they were women, they had the proper warrior caste breeding and could be relied upon to do the jobs they were given, limited as they would be by the frailty of their gender.

So, you are of good breeding, responsible, dutiful, and can be relied on. But beside that, who are you?

[ ] The rebellious daughter of a noble-turned-capitalist family, escaping a suitor after her for her wealth. (+Strategy & Subterfuge)
[ ] The dutiful child of a New Independent representative in the upper house of the Diet, who pushed the idea. (+Diplomacy & Strategies)
[ ] The daughter of an ancient noble family, whose unwillingness to give up masculine ambitions after her transition has become socially difficult. (+Prowess & Tactics)
[ ] A daughter from a cadet branch of the Imperial Family, who brought up the idea with her cousin and, thus, was put to the front of the line. (+Subterfuge, plus great political connections)
[ ] An enthusiastic but less than competent officer, chosen by the Admirality with the hopes that her failure will end such talk permanently. (Hard Mode)

New quest by @Artificial Girl and I!!!! Set in the same world as Aircraft Design Quest, and the same time, we're gonna be doing politics, cool ships, and explosions! EXPLOSIONS!​

 

[Sturmi]

[X] The dutiful child of a New Independent representative in the upper house of the Diet, who pushed the idea. (+Diplomacy & Strategies)

Now I don't mean to be a dead wood Kantai Kessen addicted admiral, but carriers shouldn't even be a twinkle in our eyes yet. I made an effort post a while ago on why aircraft carriers are actually not very useful in pure tactical terms in the 1920s, and even up to the mid 1930s, so here's that:

I have relatively little knowledge of modern naval war compared to early-mid 20th century naval warfare, so I will give my two cents for aircraft carriers.

The first thing to understand about carriers, is that there original purpose was essentially to serve as a fleet scout. Not until the mid-late interwar period did aircraft come into being that were truly capable of posing a threat to the majority of surface vessels, such as the Fairey Swordfish - Wikipedia , Aichi D1A - Wikipedia , Northrop BT - Wikipedia . Until aircraft like these enter service, carriers IMO are useful only as scouts. While Billy Mitchell's tests did prove that aircraft had the capacity to sink surface warships, it wasn't until this generation that they could practically do so under combat conditions due to the exponential speed of aircraft development in the first third of the 20th century.

Also, coordination between aircraft and carrier was close to incomprehensibly difficult before radios could be practically fit into carrier aircraft. As a result of the limited performance of these 1920s aircraft, and the lack of radio coordination, as well as the general mediocrity of the first generation of purpose built carriers, I would consider carriers only somewhat more useful than a particularly large destroyer screen for scouting. They would also be useless in attacking anything larger than perhaps a light cruiser, and even then, I would question the ability of a carrier to sink one without using most of its air group.

In essence, 1920s, to early 1930s carriers would be very limited in their ability to influence whether a fleet battle would be fought to annihilation, or to stalemate. It could perhaps bring two large fleets into contact, but carriers too are limited to daytime operations during this period, and would not be able to assist in tracking a fleet during the night in a meaningful way, and on the off chance that they discover the fleet after a disengagement, it lacks a serious ability to slow them down due to the pitiful payload of these aircraft.

However, once you move past this area, a series of technological innovations suddenly makes carriers utterly devastating weapons. Aircraft suddenly gain enough munitions to seriously threaten any ship, with thousand pound bombs, or torpedoes approaching 53cm or larger in diameter, while maintaining reasonable handling characteristics, something unimaginable a decade before. Radio also makes it possible for aircraft to actually coordinate with the fleet effectively, so they are not effectively cut off once in the air. Some aircraft, such as the Grumman TBF Avenger - Wikipedia could mount surface search radars as the size reduction of these technologies swiftly increased, vastly increasing an aircraft's ability to find ships at any point. Finally, carriers gain the ability to operate at night to a degree.

All four of these innovations and more essentially nullify all my points about interwar carriers. Radar along with radio allows near real time reports of the positions of ships, attempting to seek combat or disengaging, allowing for superior positioning, or exact knowledge of where your opponent is attempting to retreat. Aircraft suddenly have the capacity to seriously hamper and slow down any fleet with their vastly increased payloads(as well as numbers as carriers advance in the number of aircraft carried). With the ability to operate at night as well, suddenly, there is no place you are safe from a carrier, except out of range of their aircraft.

TL;DR Interwar carriers would have very little influence except in the initial contact, or pursing the defeated due to the massive time delay of information due to lack of radio, and lack of sufficient anti-surface weaponry, and numbers. WW2 Carriers, get tech that nullifies all of that and become unkillable death gods as long as they have aircraft, aircrew, ammunition, and a flight deck.

Click to shrink...

For the foreseeable future, battleships will still be the king of the seas, and assuming we even play to the point where carriers become tactically relevant, it still should not be a concern to give though to now.

Also, here's the map of the world!

Spoiler: Big map

 

[Artificial Girl]

Spring in Akitsusuni is always lovely. The weather is cool and clear, the cherry blossoms are in full bloom and the Imperial Naval Academy graduates the class of 2535. You are standing with the rest of the cadets in formation, glad that it is not warmer today. Even with the gentle springtime sunlight, you can feel sweat trickling down the back of your neck.

"Ladies of gentle birth do not sweat," you can remember your mother telling you when you were young. "It is not seemly." Well you had done a lot of unseemly sweating over the last four years and now here you were, twenty-one years old in sharp, clean Navy whites waiting to be called up to receive your naval commission and to have the silver bellflower crest, representing the Imperial family, pinned to your shoulder boards. It had been hard, something you had anticipated. Many of your classmates had laughed at you behind your back and despised you for intruding into what they considered a male world, even if you were technically a princess of the Imperial blood. You had had to work twice as hard and do twice as well to get the same recognition any of them did. You had lived alone in an empty dormitory that had been set aside specifically for 'women cadets' of which you were the only one.

Even then it was only by the grace of your cousin, Her Imperial Majesty, the Empress. She had been the finger on the scale that had allowed this experiment to even take place. You had been determined not to let her down and here you were. Graduating. You thanked your ancestors and the spirits, thanked your family. You would not waste this opportunity that is being given to you. Another cadet is called forward. The one next to you. He steps forward, salutes, fingers barely touching the brim of his peaked cap, then steps back.

Arisugawa is the name of your family, a cadet branch of the Imperial family split off two generations back. Your mother is the Empresses' first cousin, your grandmother the Empresses' aunt and your great-grandmother was Empress herself. Which makes you a 2nd cousin, if you recall correctly. The youngest of the cadet branches, not that it made much of a difference. Closer to the Empress, but lacking some of the gravitas of the families that split off in the 2000s.

The grave looking man in the vice-admiral's uniform takes another step, his aide carrying the box of carefully arrayed insignia behind him. He looks you in the eye for a long moment and you can tell that he would rather that you were not here. He clears his throat.

"Her Imperial Highness, Cadet Arisugawa…."

First name?
[ ] Write in!

Spoiler: "Your stat line"

Diplomacy 11, Strategy 10, Tactics 10, Prowess 10, Subterfuge 14, Technical: 8

Please vote for a given name for our girl!

 

[open_sketch]

It was the morning after your graduation and this was going to be your first time back in the palace wearing the uniform of the Imperial Navy. It didn't exactly make you nervous, since you basically grew up inside the palace walls, but there's a heavier sense of duty now, the idea that you were serving your country and representing your family in a way no one else had before (though there are old tales of warrior-Empresses and princesses, the last one to actually lead an army was… a long time ago). You peered through the window of your car (the very latest in exciting new technology) as you rumbled across the cobbled roadway that leads through the space between the inner and outer walls (the Army was allowed here, you remember) and then towards the gate that protects the inner palace complex where only ministers, certain nobles, family members of the Imperial house and those who serve them were allowed to enter. Foreign embassies did not come here--they are greeted in the pavilion specifically for foreign embassies within the outer walls.

As you puttered past the two Imperial guardsmen at the inner gate, they came to attention to offer you a salute and then you were past into the inner sanctum of the Empress and the Imperial court.

To someone who had never been within the sacred inner walls of the Imperial Palace, this place might seem very much like a paradise on Earth. The gardens here were even more exquisite than those of the outer palace, with neatly trimmed lawns, bright flowers, and a whole flowing artificial river that twisted and turned its way through the palace grounds, spilling into small ponds and lakes along the way. There was even a small artificial woods, carefully tended to have the appearance of the ancient forests that once spanned much of the islands the Empress now ruled. There were fish here, birds (including peacocks imported from overseas), and grand courtyards and walkways. To call the palace a simple home or mansion would be an understatement. It was really more a complex of multiple houses and compounds, its own small world isolated (for protection, of course) from the temporal world to allow the Divine Empress to focus on the matters that were truly important.

There were shrines to ancestors and to spirits and housing for the thousands of staff required to keep things running smoothly. A spring house, a summer house, an autumn house, and a winter residence could all be found here, lived in according to the strict progression of the seasons. There was housing for the extended Imperial families to live or to just use when they visited. There were stables and space for riding through the artificial woods, an archery range (that had also become a place where the Empress target shot with rifles, a favorite hobby of hers), baths, a whole complex of kitchens, private studies, and vast, grand halls and audience rooms that were startling in their stark simplicity and simultaneous beauty.

Your car and driver rattled along the winding roadway until you pulled into the entry of the spring residence. A finely dressed footman, already waiting, stepped forward to hold your open. As you stepped out of the car, the man bowed.

"Your Imperial Highness, Her Imperial Majesty is expecting you in the morning tea room. If you would be so kind as to follow my humble lead." You smile slightly. All the servants speak in this grandiose and archaic style and it's… very homey to you. You practically grew up within these walls and know exactly where the room he speaks of is. Of course, denying the offer would probably make him feel that he has failed in his duty in some way and so you simply nod.

"I would appreciate it that very much. Please, take me to Her Imperial Majesty."

"Of course." He bowed again and then lead the way further into the spring residence. You weren't technically inside the building yet. Instead you followed a winding path through its gardens and across the river until you reached the appropriate place. A stone step allowed you up on to the engawa. You sat down there to remove your boots, carefully leaving them off the floor and change into the pair of house shoes that sit there, neatly arranged for you. As you change your shoes, you can hear your cousin's voice carrying through the thin paper of the shogi doors.

"Minister, We assure you that the hum of electric wires shall no more disturb Our tranquility than the hiss of gas or the flicker of the fire in the hearth. We hope that you will take this strongly under consideration for your future plans."

A second servant waited at the sliding doorway into the tea room. She bowed deeply, slides the door open slightly and bows inwards.

"Your Imperial Majesty, your cousin, the princess Arisugawa-no-miya Haruna-hime has arrived." You grimaced inwardly at the archaic way of saying your name, but that's the way of things here. You much prefered just to be 'Ensign Arisugawa.' You waited off to one side as a rather frazzled looking man in a western-style suite, long mustache and bald head backed out of the room in a deep bow, followed by another man in more traditional clothing. You recognized the Minister for the Interior as the man in the Western clothes and the other was likely the palace groundskeeper, a humble title that actually encompassed the running, maintenance, and construction of all the facilities within the inner palace. They paused to give you a bow as well, and then the servant ushered you inside and closed the door behind you.

The moment the servants were out of sight behind the closed door, the Empress' regal bearing relaxed, imperceptible to any but yourself. "Haruna, welcome to my humble home. We have all the latest amenities, such as last century's gas lamps!" The Empress was older than you (she had fifteen or sixteen years on you) and you remembered toddling along after her as a child. She had always doted on her little cousin a bit and that relationship had continued into a fairly warm friendship now that you were an adult. She was frankly, a petite woman who stood only an inch over five feet tall and her small stature belied the frankly terrifying willpower that she exerted constantly in her efforts to thrash the country into a more modern shape in the same way her mother had. At the moment, she was dressed relatively casually. A simple ('simple' in that it was only the finest silk and only embroidered a little) house kimono and her face delicately done in the pale makeup that had been fashionable in the Imperial court a century ago instead of modern cosmetics. Her long hair was, of course, done up into a perfectly coifed updo without a hair out of place. How she managed to sit and let her maids do that every morning, you had no idea.

"Humble indeed." You said, taking a seat on a beautiful and probably centuries-old cushion. "How can you live in these conditions?"

"Right? Enough of that, though, look at you!" You stood back up and did a little twirl for her, showing off your pristine new white officer uniform and hat, especially the shiny new Ensign pins on your shoulders.

"I love it! Still putting you in skirts, though?" She said, indicated to the lower half of your garment. "At least it's more trim than the first sketches they showed me. Big Western-style petticoats! I don't think even they are wearing that anymore, and I told them so."

"Well, thank you, cousin!" You said, settling back on your cushion. "Speaking of, how's your fight with the Steward of the Imperial Wardrobe and his legion of tailors going?"

"The battle was hard and long, but finally I emerged victorious. I shall finally be able to wear trousers to ride next weekend, providing that the entire palace be locked down and the operation kept top secret. Do keep your hat on that, would you?"

You covered your mouth with a gloved hand in mute agreement.

"Perfect."

You left a polite lull in the conversation perfectly designed to indicate to the invisible but omnipresent servants to present tea and then vanish back into the walls, then you resumed your conversation.

"While I do love the uniform, dear, I must speak my heart." Your cousin had a mischievous smirk on her face. "However will you find a man dressed so?"

"Oh no, I am doomed! Whatever shall I do?" You joked, putting an arm to your forehead and mock-fainting into a beautiful silk pillow. "Truly, my life is now without meaning without the gentle touch of men."

"I see. My poor cousin, her life ruined by her unfeminine ambitions. A tragedy to rival the life of O Schichi." The Empress said, dabbing nonexistent tears with a silk handkerchief.

"Nothing for it now. I shall have to settle for merely being a sailor and a ruffian, and find solace in the women who apparently throw themselves at anyone in a naval uniform." You said, face still down in a pillow which, now that you were this close, you suspected pre-dated Western contact. Not last century's gunboats, but the Burgundy traders and missionaries of the 19th century.

"Really now? I thought you were spoken for on that front. What was her name? Himiko?" Your cousin teased.

"Spirits, cousin, that was primary school." You said. You had boldly proclaimed that a girl in your first grade class of your rather exclusive girl's academy was going to be your wife one day and your cousin had never let you forget about it ever since. "I think she's living overseas now anyway. Her father was made ambassador to… I don't know. One of the little places in the southern half of the New World." You struggled to recall. "I think they make coffee?"

"I think they all make coffee." Your cousin shrugged casually, a bizarrely incongruent action for one of her status. "Or coca, perhaps? One of those." You knew she was probably feigning a degree of ignorance here; your cousin had a mind like a steel trap.

"In any case, I can't have my mind on any of that." You produced the sealed envelope containing your orders. "As promised, I kept it until now. We shall learn my new posting together."

You shifted to the other side of the low table, setting the envelope down. A beautiful letter-opener (inlaid in gold) seemed to appear in the Empress' hand as a servant scuttled forth, and the seal was broken. Inside, your orders to report tomorrow morning to…

[ ] IAN Hatsuuna Hospital ship (A ship responsible for treating sick and injured sailors and soldiers, and rescuing drowning men in battle. Protected under international law from being attacked by the enemy. You were likely put here as a commentary on the place of women: waiting at the back and taking care of the men. Gross).
[ ] IAN Okinami, Fleet tender. (Responsible for refueling, assisting, and minding larger ships, incapable of combat. A widely scorned position, this is an insult to any combat officer, as it lets them get close to glory but never danger. Sometimes they let civilians pilot these, to give you an idea.)
[ ] IAN Kamomeshima, Supply ship. (Carries food, spare parts, or whatever else the Navy needs to get from Point A to Point B. Sometimes found in company with fleet tenders or hauling supplies to farflung naval bases. Carries little if no armament. Usually the dumping ground for anyone useless, incompetent, or close to retirement, you'll be the youngest officer aboard by a considerable margin, because it usually takes a few years to fuck up this badly.)
[ ] IAN T-55, unofficially the Tachibana, Troop ship. (The least honourable post in the Navy, ferrying to colonies and beachheads. You will have to interact with the lowest of the low… soldiers, something that will make you the laughing stock of the entire Navy. Urgh, you feel filthy just thinking about them getting their muddy boots on everything.)​

Adhoc vote count started by open_sketch on Nov 6, 2018 at 11:16 PM, finished with 53 posts and 28 votes.

• ---

  16 people have voted

  [X] IAN Okinami, Fleet tender.

  • Ato
  • mcclay
  • brmj
  • Night_stalker
  • veteranMortal
  • Cmd. Frost
  • FlyingScanian
  • Teen Spirit
  • firestorm440
  • commando2341
  • AlphaDelta
  • Random Paul
  • Shebe Zuu
  • bdun140
  • Simon_Jester
  • Dermon

  9 people have voted

  [X] IAN T-55, unofficially the Tachibana, Troop ship.

  • Mortenkam
  • cB557
  • Balaur
  • VicSage
  • Ramble
  • Karlito
  • bdun140
  • Simon_Jester
  • Dermon

  4 people have voted

  [X] IAN Okinami, Fleet tender. (Responsible for refueling, assisting, and minding larger ships, incapable of combat. A widely scorned position, this is an insult to any combat officer, as it lets them get close to glory but never danger. Sometimes they let civilians pilot these, to give you an idea.)

  • Axslashel
  • Wolfhunter
  • Uhtread
  • samdamandias

  2 people have voted

  [X] IAN T-55, unofficially the Tachibana, Troop ship. (The least honourable post in the Navy, ferrying to colonies and beachheads. You will have to interact with the lowest of the low… soldiers, something that will make you the laughing stock of the entire Navy. Urgh, you feel filthy just thinking about them getting their muddy boots on everything.)

  • NemoMarx
  • DocMatoi

  1 people have voted

  [X] IAN Kamomeshima, Supply ship. (Carries food, spare parts, or whatever else the Navy needs to get from Point A to Point B. Sometimes found in company with fleet tenders or hauling supplies to farflung naval bases. Carries little if no armament. Usually the dumping ground for anyone useless, incompetent, or close to retirement, you'll be the youngest officer aboard by a considerable margin, because it usually takes a few years to fuck up this badly.)

  • Shebe Zuu

 

[Artificial Girl]

[X] IAN Okinami, Fleet tender.

To say you were disappointed was an understatement. With your performance as a cadet, and your standing, if you were a man you'd be serving on a battleship. Instead, you'd be stuck on a depot ship for spirits knows how long.

Your cousin wasn't too impressed either, but unfortunately you had little time to talk it over. She was a busy woman, obviously: she was needed to approve legislation, and later today a warship (the Mochizuki, a ship you'd both hoped you'd have ended up on) was being commissioned and required the touch of the Empress to safeguard her across the waves. You took your leave and made your way back out to your car, escorted the whole way by servants.

The next morning, you reported to the Okinami. She was 3,500 tons of thoroughly mediocre steel, resting in a cloud of her own rust in port next to a line of bigger, more beautiful ships. A tender like this was tasked essentially with being a floating port for cramped destroyers; they would accompany patrols or attack groups and essentially provide all the repair crews, spare parts, and consumables which destroyers were too small to carry. Okinami even had an expanded infirmary to help deal with casualties that couldn't be kept in a destroyer's own sickbays, though it was only 16 beds.

This one was to be assigned to the 10th Destroyer Squadron operating in southern waters near the colonies. In short, you were going to sit out in the ocean while the destroyers ran out to catch smugglers, intercept unregistered shipping, and basically did all the interesting parts of being in the Navy.

Oh spirits, you were going to be a destroyer mom.

There was a lot going on. And it didn't even quite look like it managed to be organized chaos. There were sailors everywhere, petty officers bellowing and shouting as cargo was swung up on cranes to be loaded into the hold and people going every which way at once. You managed to make your way to the gangway and clamber up to the deck. First--you needed to report yourself to the officer of the watch, whoever that was. You suspected it was the annoyed looking man in the senior lieutenant's uniform leaning over the railing to yell at some sailor on the dock. He seemed… small, almost as if his uniform wasn't quite the right size. You waited until he seemed to notice you, then gave a sharp salute.

"Ensign Arisugawa Haruna requesting permission to come aboard, sir." The response was not exactly what you would have hoped. He stared at you blankly for a moment before he remembered himself and gave half-hearted salute in return.

"...Permission granted. You're our new commissary officer." That… wasn't phrased as a question. You had the sinking feeling that this was akin to a field appointment, and you did your best not to show surprise. That was usually a post held by at least a lieutenant. Not by fresh academy graduates.

"I have orders to report aboard, sir. I don't know much more than that." Which was true. And polite.

"Ah. Well, you'd better report to the captain then. Come on." He turned to lead the way into the ship, then paused.

"Oh. Yes. Lieutenant Muramoto Kiyohisa." That's the most you got out of him. He was quiet the rest of the way to what must be the captain's cabin. The way there was a maze of bulkheads and you have to squeeze past hurrying sailors and others as you high step to get over bulkheads. Thankfully you weren't carrying your sea chest, which would be sent aboard later. Finally though, he stopped and knocked at a door and a gruff voice replied.

"Enter!" Kiyohisa swung the door open to allow you inside. You stepped inside with all the military precision you could muster, then saluted.

"Sir! Ensign Arisugawa Haruna reporting aboard as ordered!" You held your salute until the man inside lifted his own hand in reply. As cabins go, it wasn't all that large but you suspected it was downright luxurious compared to yours. There's even a proper desk squeezed in here. The man behind it was decidedly not luxurious in any way.. He was older, not so much greying at the temples as he is going grey, a full beard and a body that seemed to be getting a touch portly. He squinted at you for a moment.

"Ensign Arisugawa. Welcome aboard." He didn't sound all that welcoming. "I'm the captain of this sodden tub, Commander Shinsato Hachiro. I needed a replacement commissary officer but I suppose that you're what I'm going to get. An ensign just out of the academy. The girl at that. I'm sure you're quite suited to keeping track of your household budgets, but this--this is a naval supply vessel. It's not as simple as adding up how much you'll be spending on groceries this week." You manage to keep your face impassive at this rather stunning insult. It's nothing harsher than what you heard at the Academy and you're not about to let him see that he gets to you.

"Of course, sir," you replied. "I'll do my best to meet your expectations." Exceed your expectations. Should have said exceed. Well, at least the bar was set low.

"I'm sure you will." Commander Shinsato looked at you dubiously for a long moment, then waved a hand to dismiss you.

"Make sure you keep the cat well fed, or I'll hear of it!"

-

Eventually, a sailor lead you below decks, to the labyrinth depths of the cargo hold, much of which was below the waterline. You did your best to familiarize yourself with the layout. Put simply, the lower decks of the ship were divided in half: the rear was taken up by engines, coal storage, and everything else needed to keep the ship running, leaving the forward half of the vessel's hull packed to the brim with supplies. You counted at least thirty doors heading off into various supply rooms containing shelves, barrels, crates, and (far too often) loose piles of vital goods ranging from food to ammunition. In the very center of the vessel was the main hold, spanning several decks with a hatch in the roof. This is where the big ticket items went: torpedoes, cannon barrels, massive pistons and rods for the steam engines, and stacks of shells to the ceiling. A whole propeller, just sitting there. All of it just placed inside with, at best, a few ropes thrown over them to hold them in place.

Nestled in there was the tiny, damp closet which qualified as your office. Lit by a single bare bulb hanging from a wire, it had a tiny desk, smaller than the ones from your theory classrooms, several filing cabinets (all the older documents were waterlogged and useless), and it looked like somebody had already gone ahead and shoved a futon in there atop a pipe of some description. Well, that would solve the issue of who you roomed with, at least.

Down a short hall was a small room containing a shower/sink/toilet which was apparently yours. Somebody had helpfully written "Powder Room" on the hatch in big white characters. Cute.

The desk itself had been left in a sorry state. There was a haphazard pile of logs, ledgers, and other documents piled atop it with no discernible system for organization. It made your flower-arranging heart break in two: this was definitely not aesthetic. You made a half-hearted attempt to sort out the useful from the useless, eventually producing the last few weeks of logs, what looked like a fairly up to date catalog of goods, and, tucked between two folders of general orders, a rather lewd woodcut which, after a few moment's consideration, you stashed back safely in one of the drawers. It was going to be a long voyage, after all, and for all your predecessor's obviously considerable faults he apparently had pretty good taste.

The sorry conditions of your office were measurably improved by the appearance of a rather rounded cat. Black with white markings, it suddenly seemed to materialize between your ankles to give a pitiful 'nyan' before it looked forlornly at an empty dish that sat in one corner. Clearly the poor thing was starving to death.

In other words, in 48 hours the Okinami was going to be at sea again, and expected to supply its four destroyers for the foreseeable future. That meant you had about two days to unfuck this situation as best you could and get your section shipshape, which seemed an impossible task. Everywhere you looked there was something wrong. You didn't even know who your subordinate petty and warrant officers were.

Hey, this game has a stress system! Every option you select below will give you 1 Stress. At the end of a chapter, we're gonna roll 3d6 and, if you roll less than the amount of stress you have, it's bad!
[ ] Get the ledgers updated, and make sure you know how much of everything you have and where.
[ ] Get the supplies organized and ready to use when you need them, so a man with a lantern doesn't need to search for things.
[ ] Properly secure the heavy loads in the cargo hold before somebody gets killed.
[ ] Meet with your subordinates and figure out how the hell things got this bad. Make them feel guilty about it.
[ ] Get this place cleaned up. There's mold. There should not be mold!
[ ] Introduce yourself to the other officers. It's only polite to get to know the people who are going to be looking down on you and hindering your work for the next spirits know how long.
[ ] Feed the cat.​

 

[open_sketch]

[X] Get the ledgers updated, and make sure you know how much of everything you have and where.
[X] Properly secure the heavy loads in the cargo hold before somebody gets killed.
[X] Feed the cat.
[X] Get the supplies organized and ready to use when you need them, so a man with a lantern doesn't need to search for things.
[X] Meet with your subordinates and figure out how the hell things got this bad. Make them feel guilty about it.

5 Stress
​

When you looked back on the last 48 hours, it felt like a blur. First things first: you had sat down at your desk and immediately began going through all of the paperwork and ledgers to find what was actually relevant to you now and what was old records that could be stored away. It had taken you hours to do that, partially because in order to double check the records you often had to go clambering into the hold to do a count yourself. But it was done. You even managed to arrange your desk into a semblance of order so that you could find things when you were looking for them. Brilliant.

Then you took a brief break to eat something--fish, unsurprisingly, and rice. Simple, just the way the Navy liked it. Thankfully even though you didn't have much appetite, the cat was happy to help you with the fish you didn't want to eat and once it had eaten, it plopped into your lap with a content purr. How cute! Unfortunately, cute was not something you had time for and you were forced to dislodge your new best friend in order to set out on the next part of your mission. You would need hands, lots of hands, to get things organized and tied down in the time you had left. Which meant finding your subordinates, where ever they were.

You marched through the lower decks until you found a berth marked 'Storekeeping' and swung the hatch open with enough force to clatter it against the bulkhead before you stepped inside. It seemed that you had startled the occupants, who were all in various states of half-dress, most of them stripped to their undershirts and work trousers as they sat around smoking and playing dice. Gambling. In the Navy. You are shocked. You stood there for a moment, hands on your hips, and stared at them as they all stared back at you. Satisfied that no one was brave enough (or smart enough) to speak, you barked at them in the best imitation of your instructors from the Academy.

"WHAT ARE YOU ALL STARING AT? HAVEN'T YOU EVER SEEN AN OFFICER BEFORE? COME TO ATTENTION WHEN I'M ADDRESSING YOU!" That prompted a scramble of activity as the men hurriedly jumped to their feet and came to attention next to their bunks and chairs. You think you understood your instructors from the Academy a bit better, watching sixty men scramble to make themselves presentable on short notice.

Off to one side, a curtain partition was shoved back and an older man with a trimmed mustache and a couple days of stubble comes stomping out with a grumble, pulling on a uniform jacket with an insignia identifying him as a chief petty officer. The senior non-commissioned officer in charge of this pack of hooligans, no doubt.

"Who the hell brought a woman on board?! Taro, if this is another one of your whores I am going to PT you until you die--" He comes up short himself when he actually sees you standing there in your pristine white officer's uniform, clipboard under one arm and glaring death at the men standing around sweating. "Oh fuck, the girl."

"Chief petty officer, I know you've been in the Navy long enough to know that's not how you address an officer. Perhaps I misheard you."

"Sir! Apologies, sir! Er, ma'am! Chief Petty Officer Sakiyama Eichi, sir! Ma'am." He hurriedly buttons his jacket and then salutes. The terror of pissing off an officer had clearly outweighed whatever opinions he had. The Akitsukuni Navy still had flogging, and worse besides.

"Chief, do you want to explain to me why the stores in this ship look like they were arranged by a pack of Caspian wolves?"

An unfortunate rating pipes up.

"Lieutenant Yoshigahara never complained about how we loaded the ship…" You glance towards him.

"Chief. Take that man's name." You pause. "Remind him not to talk back to officers. And that I will have more fitting punishment for him later." The poor bastard gets a half-whispered bawling out at close range from the chief, who is getting redder by the minute.

"In any case, I am not Lieutenant Yoshigahara. I am Ensign Arisugawa and some things are going to change around here. To start, we are going to reorganize and properly stow everything in the cargo hold. Everything. Starting now. I expect you to have it done and done properly by the time we set sail. I will be inspecting your work. I will also be inspecting all of you and your berths. This berth is filthy. It's a disgrace to the pride of Akitsukuni Navy. Is that understood?" You pause, wait to hear the ragged chorus of 'Yes sir/ma'am!, then nod.

"Good. Sakiyama, you're going to be right there with the rest of them if it's not to my expectations. Now get to work!" You spun on your heel and stomped out of the berth, smiling as you heart the CPO begin yelling at his men to get themselves dressed and get moving, didn't you hear the damn officer?

---

The next twelve hours were spent supervising the men as they got to work. And it was a lot of work. Everyone storage compartment had to be emptied out, inventoried and then re-stowed to your specifications. Things were even worse than you thought. Rotten food was dumped off the side, compromised powder charges were discarded, and at one point you found a crate in the back of a storage room filled with cannon balls.

Actual, solid iron cannon balls.

They had to be from the war in Cathay twenty years ago. At least. You decided to keep a small one as a paper weight and had the rest dumped over the side.

By the time it was finished, it was well into the night, the men were exhausted, and you still had the main hold and a few more storage compartments to take care of, but you were making progress. You let the men get some sleep, then sat down at your desk for a few more hours, sipping lukewarm coffee and updating your new ledger and then checking it against the old one. Finally, your hurled yourself onto your futon for a brief two hours of sleep before you arose early, scarfed down some cold rice and rish and then went looking for your purser in the early hours of day two.

Him you found several decks up in his cramped office. The purser was a warrant officer. Technically his title was 'Warrant Victualing Officer' but everyone called him the purser, really. He was a mousy little man with a thin mustache and spectacles, sitting at his desk and scratching at a ledger. He looked up when you came in and blinked owlishly.

"Ah, Ensign Arisugawa, I presume?" You almost came to a stop. This was the first time someone had actually addressed you by name and rank since you came aboard before calling you 'the girl' or 'the woman.'

"Yes, that's me. I'm looking for…" You look at the list on your clipboard. "Warrant Officer Ikeda Kanbe?"

"That's me." He offers a brief salute with his pen and goes back to writing. "I suppose you're here about the sorry state of the hold--I know and I have argued for improving it for years." The thought of the hold being like that for years makes your blood run cold. How has this ship not capsized? Sheer luck?

"Your predecessor had twenty years in and was not. Ahem. Big on work."

"I see. Well, I want to change that. I have Chief Sakiyama reorganizing and stowing the whole hold from stem to stern. I wanted to see if there was some part of my new section that works well--I hope you're it."

"Yes, I do my job and I do it very well, ma'am." He smiles at you and you slowly sit down on the stool opposite his desk.

"I manage to keep the kitchens in line and running smoothly, so you don't have to worry about that. I think the whole ship would mutiny if the food wasn't on time and at least edible." He chuckles quietly to himself. "But Yoshigahara wouldn't let me come down on the hold. Said it wasn't my business. I'm glad to see that you have no such ideas, ma'am."

"I don't. I want this to be ship-shape and proper."

"No doubt why they gave you this assignment. They expect you to fail. No one," he coughs briefly. "No one is happy about having a woman in the Navy that I've seen. Personally, I don't give much of a damn--if you're a good officer, you're a good officer and that's what I care about."

"Well. That's refreshing. Well, as of now consider the hold and its stowers back under your purview. I need someone to make sure they stay on the job." You paused. "Here. I have an updated ledger that you should probably make a copy of." You offered it out to him and he took it without even looking up from his work.

"You can count on me." He said, still scratching. He should… probably salute, but he was busy. You ducked back out.

The rest of the day was spent down in the hold again. You hadn't seen sunlight in something like 36 hours and you wouldn't know what time it was without your pocket watch.

Today, tired of your skirt getting in your way, you had pinched a pair of trousers from the stores in the closest size they had, tightened your belt, and pitched in. It seemed to surprise the men. Not just seeing you in trousers, but also to see you not just standing there, pencil and notes in hand and haranguing them about where things went but also helping to shove pallets of canned food into place. You even hauled sacks of rice when you felt they weren't moving fast enough. You had the feeling that it made them respect you a little bit, but you couldn't be sure. The hold took the most time, since you had to commandeer the overhead crane to move things around. The propeller was stowed and lashed down, the stacks of shells were carefully arranged to ensure even the roughest seas wouldn't accidently discharge them, and torpedoes were stacked neatly. Crates of spare parts were sorted. It was something like midnight by the time it was all done to your satisfaction and you dismissed Sakiyama and his men with a smile.

"Well done. You have exceeded my expectations. Let me say that as your officer I am grateful for your hard work and proud of what you have managed to do. Now, let's keep it this way and we'll never have to work that hard ever again. Dismissed!" The reply was a ragged salute and the weary sailors slouched off to their berth. You wanted to do much the same, but you still had to finish the last of your paperwork and double check that you had everything loaded that was on your list, which took you another two hours of squinting at Navy forms in your office until you finally fell asleep on your desk at 2 in the morning, the cat curled up in your lap.

---

"Ensign Arisugawa, Ensign Arisugawa--report to the bridge, Ensign Arisugawa." You awake with a start. You can feel the rumble of engines vibrating through the hull. The ship must be under way. You flail out and grab the speaking tube that's squawking at you.

"Ensign Arisugawa here?" You still feel addled by sleep.

"Ensign Arisugawa, this is Lieutenant Commander Narita. The captain requests that you report to the bridge at once."

"Yessir." You stumble to your feet and then look down at yourself. You're still wearing your purloined trousers from the night before. But you were told to report immediately.

[ ] Report immediately: Look, he said immediately. If they wanted you in skirts, they should have given you some time to get changed.
[ ] Take time to change: Technically you are out of uniform by wearing these, so maybe it'd be better to get back into your skirts before you head up to the bridge. Which you still have to find.
You made your way up the various halls (growing increasingly less confusing with familiarity) and out onto the deck, then up to the superstructure and bridge. The morning sun was harsh on your eyes, and you tripped slightly on a cable as you made your way into the bridge, staggering to attention in front of your captain.​

Commander Shinsato did not look impressed, to say the least. You spared you about a half-second glance before going back to staring out the window in a way he clearly thought was commanding. (He was mostly looking out at the back of a crane).

"Ensign. Finally. I've heard you started something of a commotion belowdecks. This ship has served the Imperial Navy smoothly for 15 years. Mind explaining why you think you know better?"

Roll Diplomacy to explain yourself (3d6).​

 

[Artificial Girl]

Partial success, barely. At least he won't make you undo the work, right?

"Sir, the hold was a danger to anyone working in it and to the whole ship The way the cargo was stowed completely contravened Naval regulations--"

"Let me make myself clear: you are here because of politics and politicians, two things I despise. You do not belong. I will not have you interrupting the operation of this vessel any more than you do with your general presence. Every time you give one of my men an order, you shame this entire institution. So here's your orders going forward: Stay in your cabin, keep your records straight, and keep quiet. The men can handle themselves. Understood?"

Fuck no. Fuck this old man and his garbage ship and his stupid policies he was going to get people killed-

"Understood, sir." You said evenly. Princesses did not swear. Even at old fools.

"Dismissed." He said, and turned his back to you. You felt the eyes of the entire bridge crew on you. "And make sure you're properly dressed the next time I have to see you."

You turned on your heel, stepped carefully over the loose cable, and headed down the stairs as fast as dignity would allow. You'd gotten pretty good at keeping yourself in check over stuff like this, but you felt it would probably be good to get back to your cabin as fast as possible, just in case. You threw yourself into the chair and were just about to break down when you realized there was still a speaking tube pointing in your face that would probably pick it up.

You didn't have time for this. You would have been top of your class, if things were fair. You did the right thing by every metric the Navy had. You were doing your duty: the politics was all the Commander.

Outside, you could hear the crane moving as something, probably a spare, was retrieved from storage. Without a guiding hand, it would probably take mere weeks for the hold to revert most of the way back to its awful state. Your duty to keep this ship running smoothly and safely overrode any orders the commander could cook up.

[ ] Go behind the Captain's back. Find the subordinates you can trust to keep quiet and coordinate the running of the hold through them. Give no orders, merely suggestions. Stick to the letter of the orders and completely ignore the spirit. If the captain finds out, though, there will be hell to pay. (Roll +Subterfuge)
[ ] Ignore the old man, and get together every regulatory and legal argument about your duties to back you up in the process. You'll be most effective, but it could go very, very badly for you. (+Diplomacy)
[ ] Obey the parts of the order you legally have to: stay in your cabin and keep the books in order. He can't actually strip you of your authority like that. Run the hold from your office. It'll be less effective, but it'll still work. (+Diplomacy)
[ ] Cuddle up with your cat and those woodcuts and wait it out. Something will go wrong eventually, and then you can I-Told-You-So them to death. At least the cat appreciates you. (Remove 2 Stress)​

 

[open_sketch]

Things went better than you expected. A lot better. You had been worried that once the captain found out what you were doing (you were certain someone was a squealer) he would come down hard on you and your attempt to impose order. Thankfully, he seemed to be happy to look the other way as long as you kept things demure in what you suspected he thought was an appropriately feminine manner instead of emasculating his manly sailors by shouting at them and dressing them down publicly. In fact, he even invited you to dinner the second night of your quiet rebellion, made no mention of the incident, and was… well not friendly, but he and the other officers were polite, at least. You took that as tacit approval of your actions and pressed onwards. You relayed most of your orders through WO Ikeda and CPO Sakiyama. Okeda remained friendly, if a bit aloof, and Sakiyama seemed to be warming up a bit once he realized that this actually meant less work for him.

Three more days at sea passed and by now you'd started keeping a rating or two near your office to run orders and deliver paperwork (the captain got neatly written report of the status of the stores every morning like clockwork,just according to regulations). Things seemed to be working out. You were poring over the amount of rice that the kitchen had used this morning when there was a nervous rap at your door. One of your ratings, a petty officer, came to attention.

"Ma'am. An officer to see you, ma'am."

"Well, send him in." Almost immediately you saw the reason for your seaman's nerves as the massive (and familiar) form of Kishimoto Hideaki blocked the doorway.

He was an old classmate and he, like you, was wearing the uniform of an ensign. He was also made for recruitment posters. He stood six feet tall (six inches over the Akitsukuni average), had shoulders like an ox, a lantern jaw, and was the fittest man or woman you had ever encountered. Rumor was he had simply shoulder checked his way through one of the climbing obstacles instead of climbing over it at the Academy PT course but you were pretty sure that was just a rumor.

Pretty sure.

He had also been one of the boys who had laughed behind your back, tripped you during PT and refused to associate you. Though he'd stopped participating in the hazing in your third year, he'd stayed distant and cold through graduation. Besides that he was from a good family, merchant stock (your mother disdainfully referred to them as 'new money) and you would have thought he'd end up on a cruiser or a battleship. Not here.

"Can I help you, ensign?" You asked cooly as he stepped through the doorway and then closed it behind him. Somehow all of him fit into your tiny office, though you weren't sure how.

"Arisugawa…" He spoke your name as if you were still at school. Then he dropped to his knees and planted his face and hands on the floor as he prostrated himself in front of you.

"Forgive me, Ensign Arisugawa! I have to apologize for all the hard times I gave you at school and for being too cowardly to make amends before we graduated. Please! Forgive me!" That caught you off guard. He was asking you to forgive him? Was this a prank? You manage to restrain your urgent to be sarcastic and instead shake your head.

"Only if you explain what you're doing here and why." There, that sounded okay, right? He slowly sits up, though he stays on the floor.

"I've been an admirer of yours now for a couple of years. I realized between second and third year that you were… incredible. Your perseverance, your determination not to show that anything got to you. It's admirable! A warrior's bearing!" Oh Spirits, was he asking you on a date?

"You know I'm one of those girls who wants to get married in silk one day, right?" you answer, referring obliquely to the ceremony for two women to declare their inseparable love. He blinks. Stares at you for a moment.

"...Of course not! Did you think…?" He stumbles to his feet, blushing right to the roots of his hair. "It's not like that! I'm going to be exchanging swords with my fiance next spring…" he fumbles into his breast pocket, looming over you as he produces a photograph of himself in uniform with a shorter man dressed in a Western suit, a smile, and a huge corsage. You recognized the photo background from the graduation party.

"My Osamu," he explains with a goofy, lovestruck grin. "He's a drafter for Mizushima Shipyards. He's working on the new destroyer that's supposed to be coming down the pipe but he won't tell me anything. Says it's 'top secret' and that he 'signed a non-disclosure agreement.'" Oh Spirits. He's kind of adorable, like a big confused puppy. "Did you really think I'd apologize to you to get into your skirts?"

"Men have tried stranger things," you reply with a dry tone. "I thought you would be with the main fleet?"

"So did I, but here I am." He shrugs nonchalantly. "I'm the junior signals officers, so I get to stand watch on the bridge! Sorry you're stuck down here, though."

"It's not so bad. The work keeps me busy." You said, sweeping your hand over your paperwork domain. "Through these ink-stained fingers, our destroyers are fed!"

"Those ink-stained fingers are going to get worked to the bone if you don't have more help, don't you think? Let help you!" Your impression of him as an eager puppy increases tenfold.

"Your apology was quite enough. I don't need favours." You eyed him warily. Politics 101: Nobody offers to do anything without wanting something in return. If not now, later.

"It's not a favour--I want to help!" He looks at you with a heartbreakingly earnest expression. "They might have given you what they thought was scut work but it's the most important part of our mission as a tender. The captain is old--he doesn't understand what's coming in the future! It's for the good of the squadron and the service. I promise you, there's nothing I want out of it except to help you and maybe make up for lost time when it comes to being friends and good shipmates."

"Well…"

[ ] Try to get some of the topside sections to coordinate with my section. My men can only do so much: we need everyone on top of their paperwork and filing. (+Technical. This will effectively autopilot much of your job going forward in non-emergencies.)
[ ] See if you can get some of the other officers on my side. My job will be easier without half the crew blatantly disregarding me and my position. (+Diplomacy. This will make headway towards some respect and friends.)
[ ] Honestly, can you just come talk to me every once and awhile? It's isolated as hell down here. (-1 Stress)

Hideaki Big.​

 

[Artificial Girl]

Total: 23, partial success; some junior officers are going to warm up to you but your CO and XO are still giving you the cold shoulder.

"Maybe see if you can get some of the other officers to come around? It would make my job a little easier if I didn't have to send my subordinates to talk to them about what they need instead of just talking to them myself…" You sighed. You didn't slump or put your chin in your hand because you were a proper lady and didn't slouch but spirits, sometimes you wanted to!

"I think we can do that!" Hideaki beamed happily. "One thing that would probably help would be if you actually eat with us in the officer's mess instead of hiding down here all the time."

"I--" You huffed indignantly. "I am not hiding. I am doing important work!"

"Right. But getting to know your brother officers is also important work, right?"

He was right. You hated that he was right, but he was.

"...Okay, good point. I'll be there tonight."

"Great! You can sit with me and I'll introduce you to some of the others. I'm sure they'll take a liking to you right away!" Somehow, you felt that he was being optimistic. It was kind of nice to see him being so enthusiastically in your corner, though.

So, it was that that evening you closed your books, washed your hands to get the ink off of them, and changed from your comfortable trousers into your pristine white skirts and made your way up to the officer's mess. It was a big change from your cramped life below decks. Actually it was almost like sitting in a Westerrn-style dining room back home! Wood paneled walls, paintings and artwork, fine wooden tables (though they were bolted to the deck), comfortable chairs. Even a rack full of wine bottles, brandy, and a door labeled 'smoking room.' Somehow, it made you feel even more like an intruder into what was clearly a masculine world. As you stepped through the door, there was a faint stir as a few people glanced up at you, seeming unsure of what to do with you, but Hideaki is sitting at one end of a table and he gestured you over.

"Arisukawa-kun! Over here!" Like he was talking to an old school buddy. Hoo boy. You walked over in the practiced step that had taken you ages to perfect as a child and delicately sank into the chair opposite him, pointedly ignoring the eyes on you. Dinner hadn't been served yet, but the table was set. Ivory chopsticks, white tablecloths, napkins and all the rest.

"I should have come up here earlier," you said with a wry grin. "I was eating out of a bowl at my desk."

"Well now you're eating properly!" You resist the urge to roll your eyes, then hurriedly stand up to greet a lieutenant that's coming up to the table with an ensign in tow. You bow slightly and Hideaki does the same.

"Lieutenant Otonari, have you met Ensign Arisukawa? She was in my class at the Academy," Hideaki says as you all take your seats. The lieutenant peers at you through his spectacles--he's a little doughy and has a face give to floridness.

"I haven't, no," he replies. "Lieutenant Otonari Masahide. Signals officer"

"Ensign Arisukawa Haruna. Commissary officer. A pleasure to meet you, sir."

"Likewise. This is Ensign Ikehara Akio. Junior gunnery officer." You bowed towards Ikehara as well. You knew him, vaguely. He was in the class the year before you at the Academy but you'd never spoken to him. He was small, barely taller than you, and had a dour look to him that never quite went away. You sit there for a long moment, not really sure what to do next. Fortunately, Hideaki was there to break the ice.

"Can you believe she hadn't eaten in the mess yet? It's crazy! So I told her that she had to get out of that tiny hole of an office and eat dinner with me. Ha ha!" His laugh was booming and you almost wince. It's definitely not the sort of laugh anyone had in the Imperial palace.

"Where have you been eating then? With the men?" Ikehara said suspiciously.

"No, of course not! In my office, there's been so much work to do."

"I've heard. You've caused something of a stir down there. I heard a man almost got killed by a propeller?" Otonari said. Not really an accusation, just idle talk.

"Nono, they would have. It was completely unsecured." You said. The only thing keeping it upright was that it was leaning against a series of cannon barrels.

"... huh. Didn't we bring that up with Lieutenant Yoshigahara like, a year ago?" Otonari said, a puzzled look on his face.

Once you actually started talking about your work and ships, the tension around the table eased quickly. You were starting to figure out a lot of the caution others had around you was a conviction that you were ignorant: once you started talking their language, this conviction faded. As the conversation went on, neatly dressed stewards arrived to place food on the table. Individual bowls of rice for everyone, small bowls of soup, another bowl of pickled vegetables and the main course, a steaming fillet of fish with lemon and spices. Much better than the canned stuff you'd been existing on below decks.

"Did anyone see that article in the Sunday Herald? About that new Albian ship?"

"HMS Juggernaut? She's a monster."

"All big guns. Wild! What was the displacement they said?"

"25,000 long tons!"

"Bullshit. That's almost half again as big as the Hideshima."

"Bigger than the Mochizuki, even. She's a mere 19,000 long tons! The pride of our fleet, obsolete before she left the dock! Curse this modern age!" Wow, Hideaki was kinda broken up about this.

You were busy discussing the theoretical ship which the Naval Board had obviously just ordered to rival the Juggernaut when a breathless ensign ran into the room.

"Sirs! Um, ma'am. Report from Hanatsuki! First catch of the patrol!"

"Huzzah! Come, sit! What can you tell us!" Hideaki boomed, offering the ensign a seat.

"Unregistered ship under a Lusania-Carvale flag! It looked like a mail runner, but it was carrying two dozen missionaries! Latitudinarians, I think."

"Ichthysians? We should hole the ship and let them sink." Ikehara rubbed his hands together with a grin. " If they like fish so much…"

"Hey now. Ruin a perfectly good boat?" Otonari said. "A waste. Besides, I bet they can't swim in those robes."

Everyone laughed, save for Hideaki, who looked a bit put out.

"My fiance is Ichthysian." His voice rumbled across the table. "I don't think that's very funny." There was an awkward silence.

"I don't mean all of them, Kishimoto, knock it off. There's good ones, sure. But these are their missionaries! They're out to rob us of our culture, lie to our kids about their fiery ocean or whatever." Otonari said.

"They'd have me at home in a fucking dress." Ikehara scowled.

"Nonsense, man! You could always join the princess here in her skirts." Otonari joked. You winced: they had to be good friends for that one to acceptable.

"Fuck off." Ikehara said, but not angrily.

"Speaking of, Arisukawa, they're intruding on your family's sacred land or whatever. Everyone, let's hold court, the princess can decide what we do with them!" Otonari proposed.

Now this was something you were familiar with. Mock court! Your favourite game. You posed yourself with as much exaggerated dignity as you could and summoned up your best imitation of your cousin.

"Well, my subjects, We have thought it over and We have decided…"

[ ] Lean in on the joke and appeal to their sensibilities: "Obviously, all these foreigners are intruders on our waves. Have them put to the sword!" (Appeal to the politics of your comrades! Roll +Prowess)
[ ] Play the wise monarch. "Their ways are strange and stupid to us, but perhaps they can learn from their betters." (Stand up for Hideaki! Roll +Subterfuge)
[ ] Make a historical in-joke. "Well, this being the 2100s and my court, I say we all convert and promptly upset all our neighbours. Everyone, pick a western name!" (-1 Stress.)
[ ] Write In​

I wish to stress that write-ins will be subject to harsh veto for tone purposes.

 

[open_sketch]

"Well, this being the 2100s and my court," you began, arms outstretched regally, "I say we convert to this new religion. Obviously nothing shall go wrong at all, and we shall still get along famously with our neighbours!"

Of course, anyone who knew anything about the Warring States period knew how that typically went.

"Here here!"

"Wonderful insight!"

"And of course, we shall need to take new, Western names." You pointed to Otonari. "Who shall you be?"

"Sleve McDichael!" He announced.

"Shown Furcotte" Ikehara said automatically, like he'd been thinking about it a while.

"I shall be… Bobson Dugnutt." Hideaki offered. Oooh, authentic.

You pointed to the new ensign, who actual name you still didn't know. "And you, good sir?"

"Um… Joseph… Smith?"

Everyone at the table booed. "Come on man, take this seriously!"

"Quite. And I shall be… Rey McSriff."

There was a knock on the mess door.

"Ah, that'll be the legions of Hachisuka come to murder us in our beds." Otonari said, referring to the shogun who had done just that to converts at the time. "Come in!"

A nervous looking rating emerged. "My apologies for interrupting your meal..." He coughed.

"Ensign, er, sir, Lieutenant Commander Narita asked that you return to the bridge as soon as possible." Ensign Joseph Smith (that was his name in your head now) hurriedly got to his feet.

"Of course. I'll be there directly." With a sheepish bow, he hurried out of the room with the rating in his wake. There was a general burst of laughter from the table and then Otonari launched into a conversation about his enthusiasm for the new model of wireless set that was supposed to be getting installed soon and started pouring everyone glasses of rice wine. The rest of the evening passed in a pleasant buzz of warmth until you finally stumbled down to your office and your futon a couple of hours later. It felt good. Like you actually belonged, at last. Then you slowly slipped off into a happily boozy sleep.

---

The next morning, the Okinami pulled in to resupply Hanatsuki, who was running low on coal after their daring chase against a small, unarmed mail carrier (and the journey from home to the duty station of course). Destroyers had little space for things like coal reserves, food, medicine, or leg-room, so this was your job for the next month; following them around and making sure their crew and boilers had something to eat, patching up any scratches they accumulated, and letting the crew have a proper hot shower and a bath and enough room to run around for a bit. At the end of your time on station, another tender would replace you, you'd stop in at Nokor in Kambuja for a few days, and then head for home.

Surprisingly, you were called up on deck for the process so that you could meet with your opposite number from the Hanatsuki, who was supposed to fill you in on what exactly they needed. The Okinami was moored comfortably in a warm tropical cove on Cathay's coast, the smaller Hanatsuki nestled against her side. It was a safe little natural harbor with clear blue water and surrounded by tall foothills covered in luxurious greenery. It looked like a painting. Or a postcard. The Navy really did let you see the world, you guessed.

A few peasants or something were moving a little boat around near the beach, probably some kind of tiny fishing vessel. Obviously somebody aboard the destroyer thought they were getting too close, because there was the crack of a rifle shot into the water near them, and they scrambled back ashore.

That wasn't your problem, though. What was your problem was trying to organize the movement of supplies and men between ships. You had a lot to do.

What's your priority here? Organize and vote by plan for this, putting your highest priority first and so on down the list.

[ ] Recoal: The Okinami has huge coal bunkers, not just for herself but to top off the supply on the destroyers, which are older models without as much endurance as the newer models that are supposed to be coming off the slipways soon.
[ ] Victuals: The destroyers carry enough food for their patrols, but need periodic resupply if the crews don't want to live off of nothing except barley, millet, and rice. For this reason, you carry vast amounts of tinned and pickled food to help provide a bit of spice to the otherwise monotonous diet of the small ships. You'd say that you hoped the newer models have better legs but then you might be out of a job.
[ ] R&R: Not real R&R but the tender has facilities that help to keep the moral of destroyer crewmen from getting too low. Especially because they're expected to stay out on patrol until the relief gets here at the end of the month. There's a small bath house so that the crew can take a proper Akitsukuni style bath in shifts, a library full of uplifting Navy approved literature that can be checked out and taken back aboard their vessel, room for them to exercise on the deck and even a small shrine that they can use to take a quiet moment for contemplation in.
[ ] Maintenance: While the destroyers have their own facilities, the tender has a much larger and better equipped machine shop and tons of spare parts that destroyers need to function. While there probably isn't a lot that needs work, you need to figure out when to send across your maintenance crews to take a look so that you know what, if any, spare parts should be sent over.​