The machine gun. If that raked the exposed deck or the bridge, it might put any number of you out of action. You had to move, quickly.
"Ota, the machine gun," you shouted, gesturing with one hand. He nodded briskly and started yelling at the other sailors as a shell finally rolled down the hopper and was rammed into the breech of the gun. It was cranked hard around to bear on the destroyer, the man on the wheel overshooting his mark and having to correct.
"Open fire!" Your voice sounded weirdly distant, like you were hearing yourself from far away. The destroyer was still turning and the men at the guns on her deck were still frantically moving. Behind you, you heard Ota's voice.
"Fire!" The deck gun roared and faster than you could think it, a plume of water erupted on the far side of the destroyer as she continued her turn. The motion of the submarine and the turn of destroyer was widening the gap.
"Overshot!" You said without thinking. "Try again!"
"We're close enough to stick a knife in them, how are you overshooting?" Ota was yelling. "Load another round! Quick!" The men on the gun cranked the loading arm around, pulling the spent casing and feeding the next shell from the hopper. The cannon was like a giant lever-action rifle, which made combat loading fast but required a lot of crew on deck. Two other men were desperately keeping the hopper topped up.
Ice-cold seaspray spattered you and swayed a little on your feet, trying to focus your binoculars on the enemy. You saw pinpricks of light spring into being from the railing and an instant later the chatter of a machine gun carried over the waves. You watched, almost dispassionately, as a line of splashing bullet impacts churned up the water only a few feet ahead of you, the metallic ping and whine as bullets struck the hull. They were firing short, too.
The gun roared again and the side of the destroyer erupted into an explosion as the shell found its mark. As smoke cleared, you saw the wreckage of the machine gun post, dead and dying men scattered on the deck.
"Good shot," you said. As if this were the gunnery range at the Academy. As if this were nothing more than a target barge being towed for the benefit of instruction. "The rudder, go for their rudder now!"
"You heard her!" Ota bawled, waving the gun around to aim, and you took a moment to assess your crew crew. They were sweating and soaked by the sea, moving the mechanical motions of loading and sighting the gun with a regularity that surprised you. There came the roar of guns and you heard (and felt) something rumble overhead like a freight train to splash into the sea beyond the submarine.
It was exhilarating. There was a thrill in your chest, taut and eager and you didn't want to contain it. The realization that you were
excited by this, that this seemed to bring you some kind of joy… well you'd have to think about it later but this,
this is how ships were supposed to fight. Gun to gun across the expanse of the sea, not skulking underneath it. The deck gun fired again and you heard an empty shell-casing clatter to the deck as the aft deck of the destroyer vanished in a rumbling cloud of smoke. As the forward motion of the destroyer and the sharp winter wind cleared away the smoke, you could see that a fire had started on the after deck, but you weren't sure if the rudder had actually been damaged. More of the destroyers guns were coming to bear on you now.
Your deck gun fired and this time it was short, a splash of water near the destroyer's side. You ordered a correction, heard it relayed, then a machine-gun chattered. Up on the bridge, Takamitsu had brought the machine gun into action, two sailors playing it across the deck of the destroyer, blue tracers stitching up around the guns, or near enough that it didn't matter. Despite the distraction, the two guns the destroyer had bearing on you fired again. One was short, throwing up huge plumes of water that soaked the deck. Another, you swore it looked like it was coming right at you, you had just enough time to know it was going to kill you, then there was an almighty clang and the whole boat shook. But you were still alive, so you shook your head, rubbed a hand across your eyes and steadied yourself as you peered through your binoculars.
"Fire!" Ota again, a blue streak of a tracer shell whizzing between ships, and there was another explosion on the aft section of the destroyer. You felt the submarine heeling over a little as you turned, trying to keep up with her foe and keep on a course that would prevent them from ramming you. You still weren't sure if you had managed a hit on the rudder. The machine gun was still firing in bursts. The range was widening again, out to maybe 450 or 500 meters and separating. The deck gun fired and there was a third hit on the destroyer. You would have to commend Ota and his gun crew, assuming you survived.
This time, it seemed to have an effect as the destroyer's maneuvering faltered and she swung around
hard in a way that they can't have meant. She was turning away from you now, the opposite direction from her previous turn and the men at her guns were desperately trying to compensate for the sudden change in direction. Your own men had to do the same, and you felt the submarine turning again, angling towards the destroyer.
"Her guns," you shouted. "Knock out her guns!" If you took out the turrets facing you now, she'd never get another chance. You could just stay in her dead zone indefinitely.
Ota didn't reply but you had the feeling he was doing what he could. There was a fresh burst of machine gun fire from the destroyer as her port side came into view now, exposing the other machine gun post opposite to the one you had turned into carnage. Yellow tracers whipped overhead then pinged against the bridge tower and you heard something that sounded impossibly human and simultaneously unlike anything you had heard before, a sharp noise of pain and fear. No time to worry about it. You tried to get a good gauge on the range again as the deck gun fired again. The shell struck just in front of the forward gun and the destroyer's bow turned into a crashing inferno as a secondary explosion went off, hurling the forward gun skyward. Stacked ammunition maybe. Your pulse was pounding in your ears and you let out a whoop of triumph and the gun crew cheered.
"Again! Don't let up!" You ordered and they set to loading again as the destroyer's turn continued, bringing her other three guns to bare and the machine gun kept up its jerky bursts of fire. You wanted to duck every time you heard the flat cracking whizz of the bullets flying overhead or to either side but knew it wouldn't help--you had to stay where you were, an example. The destroyer's other guns were still in action, one amidships just aft of the bridge and two aft behind her funnels. The one amidships hadn't been able to get on target yet but at least one of the aft guns was either well crewed or just lucky, since it fired as it came to bare against you and you heard the heavy train-like rumbling whirr of the shell as it flew overhead, snapping off the radio antenna and splashing into the sea beyond. Your grip tightened on your binoculars and you laughed in spite of yourself.
The 'krump' of the gun made your head spin. You were almost certainly going to have your ears ringing for hours after this was over. The next shell from your gun missed the aft gun but landed squarely amidships and you thought you heard a distant, keening scream across the waves but that had to be impossible with the distance and the sharp wind sweeping across the deck.
Somehow, though it had been afternoon when this had started the sun had started to sink below the horizon as it always did this far north and the destroyer was lit eerily by the crackling flames of the blazing fire on its forward bow and the other just aft. Another shell from the Caspian, this one a much longer overshoot than before. You realized that with darkness coming on, they had to be having trouble actually spotting you in the gloom and weren't quite able to get a grasp on where their shells were landing.
Just as you thought this, a light flickered to life on the destroyer and a search-light stabbed across the dark and swelling waves to try and fix on the submarine. The machine gun on the bridge rattled out what sounded like half a belt of rounds in response and the light vanished a moment later. You saw the flash of powder again as your own gun went off and it landed squarely among the burning debris of the aft deck. This time you were straddled, two shells bursting on either side of the submarine, one so close that the patter of steel against steel rang out, like hail on a tin roof. One of your gun crew let out a sound of pained surprise as some piece of shell caught him and threw him to the deck. Behind you, you heard Takamitsu.
"Stow the gun, Arisukawa! Get your men below!"
"Aye aye, sir!" The last shell they had been preparing was lowered back into the watertight locker in the deck they hurriedly began to prepare the gun for submerging as tracers and shells flicked overhead again, the destroyer groping in the dark. As the gun crew stumbled back towards the bridge in a rush, you heard and felt the shudder that went through the ship as one, then two tubes were emptied. The torpedoes had been gotten off at last, delayed until now by the desperate weaving of both vessels.
You clambered up onto the bridge. There was a pool of blood on the deck, though no sign of who it belonged to, and the machine gun had just been lowered back down the hatch. Takamitsu stood here, arm in a sling and his uniform stained red around his left shoulder--he must have been clipped during the exchange of machine-gun fire.
"Get below," he said again, his face pale in the growing darkness. "We've patched the pericope--should hold for now--" As he spoke you heard a dull 'wump' of an explosion and looked out across the sea to see the still flaming destroyer beginning to heel over in the waves. At least one of the torpedoes had found its mark.
Oddly, you felt no triumph, just a wave of exhaustion as you made your way belowdecks.
----
Somehow you had gotten away with it. The boat slipped southwards, running on electric as long as it could to ensure no one could follow you. Two men had been killed on the bridge. One manning the machine gun had been wounded and died in the cramped sickbay a few hours later, drifting in and out of consciousness. The other had been killed instantly. Takamitsu had taken a bullet in the shoulder and would need serious time to recuperate once you got ashore again. If he was lucky, he'd keep the use of his arm. Kenshin had a bad cut over his eye and according to Warrant Officer Abe, was lucky that he only had a concussion and not a cracked skull. Your own sailor at the gun crew had had a piece of shell smash his right wrist--somehow he still had a hand, but whether he would ever use all his fingers again was up in the air.
With the boat so badly damaged from the encounter with the destroyer, you were ordered to return to Tokei immediately and you spend the next week running home, mostly on the surface once you had left northern waters. Kenshin was on his feet and mostly himself by then and seemed morose and withdrawn, angry with himself about having been knocked out of the fight so early. This was despite reassurances from everyone that he had done everything he could and no one could blame him for being wounded in the line of duty.
Arriving in Tokei brought another blow, however. After looking over the badly damaged I-02, it was decided that due to continuing mechanical problems and the cost of repairing her to make her seaworthy again, she was to be retired from active service, possibly for use as a training boat and possibly simply to be broken up and her materials used for another, newer vessel. It hurt you, and most of it all you saw that it hurt Kenshin, who felt personally responsible for not having done better. As a result, most of the enlisted crew was soon shuffled off to other postings and the rest of the officers were left to recuperate or given new assignments.
You went to visit Kenshin at the hospital, where he had been ordered to spend some time resting. He looked grim when you saw him, though he smiled when he saw you.
"Arisukawa! You're still here?"
"No orders yet, just 'await further instructions,' so here I am. Waiting." You groaned and slumped down into the chair next to his. He wasn't stuck in bed, but he
was stuck in the hospital while they made sure he was fit to go back on duty.
"I have my orders already," he said after a moment. "Surprised you don't."
"What? Really? Are they giving you another sub."
"No." He sounded rueful. "I'm being attached to Rear-Admiral Hatano's staff." He didn't explicitly say what that meant, but Hatano was the man in charge of organizing and deciding how best to use these new-fangled submarines. Kenshin was perhaps the most experienced (and most successful) of the submarine commanders out there, so it perhaps wasn't surprising. It wasn't a punishment--in fact, it was a good step for Kenshin's career to make connections on a staff posting and to help shape the future of the Navy. It just wasn't what he wanted. And it likely meant a promotion, too.
"Isn't that good news?" You asked.
"I suppose." He sighed. "I just would rather be out there. They gave me a medal, too. Order of the Precious Seal, Third Class. I'm ennobled again." He laughed. "After grandfather gave up his swords and everything, too."
"I know," you said quietly. "Did you hear about Takamitsu, though?"
"No! I've been starving for news."
"Order of the Golden Hind, Fourth Class. And a promotion to Lieutenant-Commander. I hear he's getting his own boat. You know, once he's out of the hospital. Guess that's what happens when you get shot," probably not what Kenshin wanted to hear right now but he wasn't the kind of person to hold grudges.
"Good for him. He should do well." His praise was genuine, though you could see the disappointment and jealousy hidden behind the words.
"Chin up, Ken. They can't keep us away from the sea forever." You said.
---
Reality, of course, seemed keen to prove you wrong. Your orders came in two weeks later, arriving promptly at your Tokei hotel room by courier while you were… slightly compromised. Aiko ended up having to open the door on your behalf.
"I have a letter here for Lieutenant Arisukawa-hime." The courier said. Aiko, dressed in a hastily thrown on kimino and nothing else, started in on a stream of apologies.
"Don't worry, I can take it for you!" She concluded, casting nervous glances back at you.
"I'm afraid my orders are explicit, miss. I need to give it to her directly." The courier said. He sounded young, maybe even a cadet or something.
"Well, she's… um, she's a little tied up at the moment."
Cute. Aggravatingly close to the truth, but cute. "Seriously, it'll be okay."
"But…"
"It'll. Be. Okay." You presumed this exchange was punctuated by her seizing the orders from the poor courier, because the door swung shut and she returned a second later with orders in hand. She waved them mockingly in front of your face.
"Can I open this? That won't get me shot or anything, will it?"
You rolled your eyes. "It's not like I can. Go ahead, just don't blab to anyone."
"Okay." She grabbed the safety scissors from the bedside table and tore open the top. "Wow, okay, there's a lot of words here. Umm…."
You weren't being sent to sea again. After the
Mochizuki someone had suddenly decided that the Imperial family needed protecting, especially it's most delicate elements. That meant shore postings. It seemed like somebody, however, was either pulling for you or trying to get you killed, because your shore posting was in Joseon. Not at the docks, but at the front lines. To command a new-fangled "aircraft destruction battery", whatever that meant. From what you understood, they used Navy guns and so the Navy, not wanting to trust their precious guns to the Army, had simply decided they would use sailors to do the job.
The assignment did come with one pleasant surprise, however. Kwon was coming along as your 'official translator' or whatever. He'd basically been handed to you as a sort of aide and you figured you were meant to decide what to do with him. Apparently they needed more translators over in Joseon and Kwon had been grabbed for the job, though you spoke excellent Joseon yourself (not that he, or anyone really, knew that yet). You only found this out when you arrived at the train station in Dazaifu to take a ship across the narrow sea between Akitsukuni and Joseon and found newly-minted Petty Officer Second Class Kwon Ji-Hu waiting for you at the station with a smile.
"Seam--No, Petty Officer Kwon!" You were genuinely happy to see an old shipmate. "I didn't expect to see you here. No Ota?" You laughed and looked around, as if he might pop out of the lavatory or emerge from the small restaurant at the station, which swarmed with men in uniforms of all types.
"No, I'm afraid not." Kwon gave a small smile. His Akitsukuni was superb these days. "He's been assigned to a new sub, I think. We can't say, obviously. Security." He sighed, then gestured for you to walk ahead of him.
"There's a motor bus waiting."
"A motor bus?" They had those now? Since when?
"Takes all of us to the transport, ma'am. Have your sea bag?"
"I need to retrieve it from the baggage car--just a moment." After hurriedly retrieving your luggage, you piled into the waiting bus with a gaggle of other junior officers and senior enlisted men (the enlisted sat in the back, of course) and soon rattled down the road to the port, where everyone had their papers checked at the gate before you had to march the rest of the way to your waiting ship. The trip across was quiet, though the ship did a LOT of zig-zagging to avoid torpedoes. Then, once you arrived in Joseon it was a very long train ride up the peninsula. You spent most of the time sleeping or writing letters while Kwon sat across from you in the compartment and did much the same. The further north you got, the fewer Navy uniforms you saw and the more sky-blue Army replaced it.
When you finally arrived, it was still cold despite it being early March. Or maybe because of it. You stamped your feet and shivered with other black-coated Naval personnel (a few other officers and men), not quite sure where you were supposed to go. It was a run down little place and seemed dismal and isolated from everything. It smelled faintly of cordite and hot brass and it was damnably frigid. It wasn't really a picturesque winter here--it was just grey and brown and
drab. Soon though, a man in neat Army blues marched up to the group, his rank insignia denoting him as a lieutenant-colonel (which you thought was like a Lieutenant-Commander? Or a commander? You weren't sure). He cleared his throat and spoke.
"Attention." That wasn't quite the command you were used to, but close enough. The various naval officers and men stopped muttering amongst each other and snapped to attention. Even if he was army, he was still a superior officer. You'd complain about it later, not to his face.
"I am Lieutenant-Colonel Muranaka. I'm technically your liaison with the Army, but you will notice I outrank all of you. This is intentional. I know that there's been bad blood between the Army and the Navy before, but there's no time for that here. The front is deadly serious, and while none of you will be
at the front, you will be very close behind it, so it is imperative that you all listen to what I have to tell you. Each of you,
including officers, will need to make sure you are familiar with small arms as well as the guns you are using. It is also imperative that if an Army officer gives you an order, you follow it. If you wish to complain later, you may do so through the usual channels, but frankly, we don't have time for any bullshit here. It's life and death, and none of you will be an authority unless you want to find a lake to swim in. I am afraid we have no motor transport available, but there will be horse transport along shortly to take you to your units. Your officers there can give you more information." He paused. "Also, watch out for shrapnel. It is rather dangerous. Cover your heads."
The enlisted men were dismissed and they immediately crowded into the miserable little tea shop at the station for something hot to drink. Maranaka brought the officers closer for a one on one. The gruff exterior he presented earlier melted away.
"Do you have any questions? If you think of any later, don't hesitate to ask. Look, I know none of you want to be here, and frankly I can't blame you, but if we act like
adults we might just get you all back on your boats by the end of this, okay?"
"We can hold up our end." One of the Naval officers said. "Don't you worry about us."
"Like it or not, Lieutenant, I'm effectively your commander. It's my job to worry, especially when none of you have done a decent march in your life. Any more questions? No? Then get your baggage and get out front. We have a ways to go."
The ride to your position was dreary and done in the back of an open horse cart. You passed by what seemed like an endless stream of soldiers on the road, marching by in neat columns in their blue uniforms. Occasionally, you would have to stop and pull off to the side as horse-drawn cannon trotted by or when the rare truck or staff car beeped insistently. At one point, the whole road cleared as an entire aircraft, the wings stacked in the back of the truck towing it, rolled by and off the side of the road to what looked like a set of hastily-erected barns. The sounds of the engines running there resonated across the whole field.
The carts carrying casualties were the worst. You didn't have a weak stomach by any means and had seen plenty of wounded men (at least that's what you'd thought), but the ambulance trucks and carts carrying men with shattered limbs, the trail of walking wounded behind them, and the horse carts with dead men stacked three deep… that stuck with you. One of the carts hit a bump, and a disembodied hand fell off the wagon: a nearby soldier picked it up and chased it down to ensure it didn't get left behind.
You weren't quite sure what to make of the spot once you got there. It looked like nothing more than a series of four sunken pits dug into the ground. Inside the pits there were guns, four of them on strange looking carriages that angled them towards the open sky.
This was what you were supposed to command? Ugh. You hopped off the cart, smoothed your skirts, and made your way up to the largest building with Kwon. There was a sailor there, looking very bored and standing guard with a rifle and bayonet. He looked at you, head tilted, and called to Kwon.
"Hey buddy, what's with the chick? A bit out of the way for a WNA post, huh missy?"
Right. The Women's Naval Auxiliary was the new thing they put together for the war, basically recruiting civilian clerks and such to fill clerical positions and free more sailors up for the war.
"That isn't how you talk to an officer, sailor. Not a WNA officer, and certainly not a Navy one." You said, tilting your head to make sure he could see your rank pins. "You have about fifteen seconds to summarize the current situation, or my first orders are going to be to form a punishment detail."
Normally, this was about the time that the colour drained from a man's face and he stammered and apologized and did his best to treat your office, if not your person, with respect. Discipline in the Navy was no laughing matter: you'd seen men flogged, and had been tempted to order it a few times yourself. Unfortunately for both you and him, this sailor didn't seem to get the message.
"I didn't ask you, little miss," he replied laconically. From one of the pits, you heard some cheers, laughter, a sailor whistled, and someone else let out a catcall involving what he thought the WNA should
really be doing to help the war effort, but you couldn't see any of them. You felt blood starting to pound in your ears.
"I am not your 'buddy.'"Kwon said. You had rarely heard him sound angry. There was a hard flintiness to his voice and you were thankful to have him, though part of you felt embarrassed at having to have him back up your authority. "I am Petty Officer Kwon to you, sailor. And this is Junior Lieutenant Arisukawa, your new commanding officer. Now who is in charge here?" You did your best to appear unruffled and carefully laid your hand on the hilt of your sword. As far as you knew, the WNA, lovely as they were, didn't go armed. On being reprimanded by a petty officer, the sailor (who was a Seaman, Third Class) went a little pale.
"Er, sorry Petty Officer, I didn't, um…" Kwon reached out and slapped him across the face with surprising force. You were surprised it didn't knock him to the ground, really. Kwon was not a large man, and you'd never thought of him as somebody with an ounce of malice in him… but of course you'd think that. He was a low-ranked foreigner trying not to draw attention to himself. This was the first time you'd ever seen him with authority.
"I didn't ask you to be sorry. I asked you who was in charge!" The sailor yelped and held a hand to his cheek, then hurriedly gestured inside. Some of the other men, who were emerging now from the pits (they hid them from the bitter wind) were staring on. This was your first impression to the men under your command.
"P-Petty Officer Third Class Kudo. He's inside, Petty Officer. Er, ma'am." The threat of Kwon's wrath apparently motivated the man to speak to you with some respect. You nodded and then opened the door and stepped inside.
It was a small building--maybe it had been some kind of roadhouse or small shelter before the war. There was a pot-bellied stove in the middle of the room, casting warmth around the room. Off to one side there was a half-open doorway showing a bedroom, the sign on the door reading 'officer's quarters.' Next to it, another which read 'petty officer'. This room was apparently combination dining hall, office and general use space as there was a small table here as well as a pair of desks. At one of them, a small, squat man was peering at paperwork while a young woman, Joseon you thought, was tending the stove where a kettle sat steaming. The man looked up when you entered.
"What is it? Don't you know how to knock?" He glared at you, scowling.
"I usually have somebody open my doors for me." You quipped. "Still, you want to try that again?" You held up one hand to show the golden threaded rank on your coatsleeve's cuff, designating you a junior lieutenant.
"Er!" That caught him off guard. Unlike the sailor outside, he wasn't stupid enough to keep mouthing off.
"Sir! Er, ma'am! I didn't realize we were expecting our new officer today!" He stammered an excuse.
"A sailor should always be vigilant, lest the enemy catch him unawares, petty officer!" You yelled and smashed your scabbarded sword down onto his desk, scattering the papers he had been examining. "I shouldn't need to remind a man with your responsibilities of this basic maxim of our Navy. Disgusting!" It felt perversely satisfying to finally be able to tell someone off for not showing you respect. It felt… thrilling and powerful. You understood how officers could get used to this--to operating with bluster and anger and threats. It didn't hurt to indulge a little, though. Right?
"Ma'am, I apologize, I just--" You cut him off with a wave of your hand.
"Turn out the men. All of them. Now. I want to inspect them and their quarters
immediately."
"I-Immediately, Lieutenant?"
"You heard me. Petty Officer Second Class Kwon will accompany you to make sure that you follow out my instructions." You knew it was an unreasonable request. They couldn't possibly make themselves and their living space presentable enough for an inspection in the five minutes it would take to turn them out, but you weren't trying to be reasonable. You were trying to establish that these men needed to obey you, and if that meant they feared you for now, then that's what it meant. "Get moving!"
"Yes ma'am!" He jolted to his feet. Jamming his hat onto his head, Kudo hurried out the door with Kwon in his wake, leaving you alone with the Joseon servant woman. You looked her over. She was dressed simply, bundled against the cold, and she looked maybe twenty or thereabouts. Would be pretty, if somebody scrubbed her off.
"
Men, right? No respect." You said. She was huddled at the stove, staring at you, and when you spoke she jerked with a little shock like she'd stuck her finger in a light socket. You winced. "
Sorry. I just had to make sure they would take me seriously."
"Of course, sir." She said quietly.
"
Hey, you're not a sailor, don't worry about it. I'm Junior Lieutenant Arisukawa Haruna." You bowed respectfully. "
I hope these men haven't been too much trouble?"
She cast a look around the room, then returned the gesture. "
Let me just say I'm very glad you're here." More accurately, she was probably very glad you were asking that question. She hesitated. "
I didn't know that the Akitsukuni had women officers."
You sighed and nodded. "
I'm the first. Do you speak any Akitsukuni?"
"
Um. A little bit. I understand more than I can say. I'm pretty much limited to... You want tea? I make fire.. Ah…" She hesitated, seemingly trying to recall some other Akitsukuni phrase. "...Don't touch me."
You nodded sadly.
"
Let me know if any of them lay a finger on you. None of them know I speak Joseon. If you need to say something else, say… I'm going to tell Lieutenant Arisukawa
or I'm going to tell Petty Officer Kwon.
I'll make sure he knows to look out for you."
"
Okay. Your Joseon is pretty good, but you need to work on your accent, I can barely understand you. Did you say Kwon? He's Joseon?"
"
Yeah. I think he's from the southern part? I don't really know, he doesn't know I speak Joseon yet. Should… probably let him know. Anyway, what's your name?"
"
Min-Seo, ma'am."
---
Your inspection of the sailors went about as inspected. Practically all of them had something amiss with their uniform or personal equipment whether it was unpolished boots, tarnished buttons, or rusty rifles. Their personal quarters, dugouts in the side of the gun pits, were in disarray and the guns themselves, while serviceable, weren't nearly the sort of parade-ground shine that you remembered your instructors demanding in the Academy. Enough that even if you weren't looking for an excuse, you would be totally within your rights to dress down the whole unit.
The question was, how badly did you
want to?
[ ] Just give them an earful and call it good: If you give them a chance to shape up, that might make them more disposed to appreciate and respect you. On the other hand, they might just think of you as a weak woman and think they can still get away with not taking you seriously. (1d6 if done alone)
Or… make a plan and pick as many as you want from the list. Yelling is included for free but adds no dice. When we have a plan, we roll all the dice and that tells us how well you did.
If you want respect, you want a 6-7. To be obeyed but resented, you want 8-14. If you want to be feared and respected, you want 15-18. If you want a mutiny, 20+)
Corporal and other punishment is part of the culture and the IAN. This is just the first time that Haruna has really been in a position where she has a need and authority to really administer it. You can expect that this either establishes Haruna's pattern going forward, or acts as a serious learning opportunity.
[ ] PT them. PT them until they fucking die: Have Kwon put them through rigorous PT every day until they wish they'd never been born. Make them too sore to talk shit ever again. (2d6)
[ ] Inspections. Forever: Inspect them again tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that. Until they finally wise up and get their act together. (1d6)
[ ] Watch on watch: The worst get extra watches to stand. Everyone else gets to see what happens if you fall asleep on watch (it's not good). (1d6, exploding 6s)
[ ] Weekend pass? REVOKED!: You sure hope no one had liberty coming up because they sure as hell don't any longer. (1d6)
[ ] The floggings will continue until morale improves: Have Kwon smack the worst offenders around. Or better yet, have Kwon make Kudo do it. (2d6)
[ ] Decimate them: Best, get Tiberian on their ass and make the sailors punish their own, like they did on the Hachinosu. Oh, they'll hate it, but they won't ever, ever talk back. Not actual decimation, but the guy who talked back to you and the worst offenders from the inspection can get beaten up by their buddies for their lapses in discipline. (4d6)
